#rubs hands together. after the next chapter of symphony. it's Time

[desceros]

not here to request a song, but here to possibly recommend? I recently took a peak at your Wolf x lamb x sheepdog dynamic with Leo and Donnie and I was wondering if you had heard this song?

It gives me some major D vibes and thought you might enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/track/1Dusa3lhPOxkFIoo1qDhel?si=RRXM41h5Q3-LUKoDq3dnFw

ooooh.... warbles a lot.... yeah that has some nice vibes to it. excellent find, anon-chan!

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

A Swallow's Symphony In Spring (12/19)

Chapter 12 - While the Swallows Roam Alone

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Warnings: some non-graphic violence, more violence heavily implied, panic attack.

Word Count: 2124

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“Roman - Roman wake up,” said a hissing voice as his shoulder was shaken. Roman groaned softly and snuggled into what he thought was his lovely new boyfriend… he was still reeling from that a little bit. 

“Roman! Come on Ro you have to get up," said the voice again. The panic in the voice made Roman finally blink open his eyes, only to realise that what he was holding was not, in fact, his boyfriend, but a pillow. That explained how cold it was. 

“Virgil…?” Roman asked, voice a little croaky, rubbing his eyes and glancing around to find him.”’s dark…”

“I know, and I’m sorry for waking you but you really, really have to get up.” Virgil said. Once Roman’s eyes adjusted to the light in the room - coming from a single candle on his bedside - he saw that Virgil was fully dressed, and not in his guard uniform. 

He wore a dark cloak, fastened at the front with a glistening silver bird, shaped pin, underneath he wore what looked like sleek leather armour, a belt with pouches and weapons hooked up - he looked sort of like an assassin, which already put Roman on edge. Not because of Virgil, of course, Roman trusted Virgil but… he wondered what could have made his guard dress like that. The last time he had done so was when he went to rescue Roman’s cat. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, suddenly feeling a lot more awake.

“I- the- the palace is being attacked,” Virgil said, speaking quickly and stumbling over his words. “There’s - people, people at the gates, gotta get you out before they get in. Get dressed, quickly, it’s cold out.”

Any sleepiness still in Roman’s system was quickly flushed out by the adrenaline that rushed through him at those words. He didn’t even stop to think about how Virgil seemed to know about the attack before it had happened, how he had left time for Roman to get dressed. He was too busy thinking about how his life was in danger, if they were found - if people were trying to attack the castle then surely they were after him and his parents. 

He did as Virgil said, dressing simply and warmly, pulling on the red cloak Virgil offered him and grabbing a few of the things he had gotten from the festival they had gone to the night before. All of the riches in the world didn’t matter to him, but if they got out of the palace alive all Roman would want are these little things, these things that meant so much more to him than anything his parents had given him ever had. 

“Quickly,” Virgil said as Roman shoved something into his pocket. “Come on-”

There was a loud crash, distant to them far up in Roman’s tower, but heard nonetheless. Roman jumped and nodded, grabbing Virgil’s outstretched hand and allowing himself to be led hurriedly from his room. He cast one final glance back, knowing he would likely never see it again, whether they got out or not. There were no guards around - Roman could only assume that if there was really an attack on the castle they had gone to deal with it, with Virgil to defend him they could go. 

“Where - where are we-” Roman said, already a little out of breath as they ran through the halls.

“Catacombs,” Virgil replied. “We can - we can get out that way, right?”

“Mhm - okay- good-” Roman said, nodding quickly as they ran. Suddenly Virgil stopped.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered. Roman’s eyes widened and then darted around.

“This way,” he said, squeezing Virgil’s hand before pulling him back the way they came, lifting up a tapestry in the next hall to reveal a servant's passage, quickly ushering Virgil into it. 

“I know how to get down there through these passages,” Roman whispered as they heard a small group run past. Virgil nodded quickly, gesturing for him to lead the way.

Together the pair ran through the walls until they were in the palace basement. There was no-one in the kitchen and Roman was glad for it as they ran through to the back wine cellar. Virgil pushed the barrel off of the trapdoor and pulled it open, quickly ushering Roman down the ladder, holding his hand as he climbed down and following once he had reached the bottom, pulling the trap door shut behind them just in case. Once they both stood on the solid, stone ground next to the canal, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

“Okay - come on,” Virgil said, taking Roman’s hand again, they shared a small smile, “We should get going, can’t waste time.”

“Right,” Roman nodded, he wished he could have a hug right now. He knew they had to get out, it was important that they did, they could hug all they wanted afterwards once they were alive and free. Right now they couldn’t stop until they were out. 

—-

As silently as they could, the pair hurried along the path past the canal towards the entrance they had used to sneak out to the festival, the exit that meant that they’d get out free. They had been walking for five minutes before they heard quiet voices. Virgil froze, and with the way he was holding Roman’s hand, he was stopped too.

“Vir-” Roman started, before a hand was slapped over his mouth. Virgil’s eyes were wide and panicked. 

“Someone’s here,” Virgil whispered in his ear. “Quick - back this-”

“Oh!”

Roman whipped around, just as a small group of rebels came around the corner. Virgil froze, staring, and Roman did too. Just as quickly as he had frozen, though, Virgil darted to shield him. Roman tried to take a deep breath, Virgil was here to protect him, he didn’t have to panic. 

The leader of the group’s eyes widened too. Even in the dim light Roman could see that his tied back long hair was blonde, there was dark scarring all up one side of his face and he wore a pin exactly like Virgil’s swallow pin on the lapel of his cloak. He carried a cane too - Roman wondered if he’d come this way to avoid most of the fighting if he was disabled. But then that begged the question - how had they known about this place? No-one knew about this place besides him, Virgil and his brother, Virgil wouldn’t have told them, and his brother was dead.

The group in front of them was small, there were five people there who were obviously muscle, the leader of course and one more guy in the back wearing a cloak that obscured their face. No-one moved for a moment, before the leader spoke and Roman’s heart dropped. 

“Virgil?” He said, Roman immediately looked to his guard, who was wearing a twisting expression, full of guilt. What was happening? “Well, this actually makes things much easier. I didn't even think to have you bring him down here for us and meet us halfway. Everything should go much smoother now, the prince is in our hands and everything above us is going accordingly."

“What,” Roman whispered, voice small as Virgil looked back at him, “Virgil-”

“I know I can always count on you, darling,” he says, sounding genuine. He takes a step forward and makes a motion with his fingers. 

“Virgil - what-” Roman said, backing up a little - was this a trap? A set up? He didn’t understand what was happening, why did these people know Virgil? “What’s going on-”

“Roman I-” Virgil said, glancing back at the others, he looked torn, Roman felt like there was an iron hand squeezing his heart. He couldn’t cry, not right now, not here, this couldn’t be happening, it had to be a nightmare. 

“Virgil,” Said the leader again. “You can drop the act now, honey, we’ve got him.”

“But it’s-” Virgil said, eyes darting back and forth. Act? What act?

“Just go,” Roman said through his teeth, clenching his fists in an effort not to let himself cry as he put the pieces together. Virgil was dressed like them, he knew them, had he just been using Roman this whole time? Was any of it real? Anything at all. Roman turned his face away as Virgil looked at him - Roman didn’t want to see his guard (if he should even call him that) cry right now. 

The air was tense as Virgil hesitated, reaching as if to touch Roman’s arm or something, before sighing softly and taking a step away from him. The group’s leader nodded, waving him over whilst the others came up to crowd Roman. He gave Virgil one last pleading look, he knew it was useless - after everything they had been through, Virgil wasn’t on his side. He was handing him over willingly, he didn’t even try to defend him. The leader patted Virgil’s shoulder, and the cloaked figure nodded. Their face catching the torchlight for just a second as they did.

For a moment, Roman thought he saw amber eyes, red hair just like his own, a face older than he remembered but still just as familiar. For a moment, he tried to fight, to pull away from the person whose hand was on his shoulder, holding him in place, to reach for the cloaked figure who wore his brother’s face. He barely made it a step, though, before something struck the back of his head, his vision spotted and spun for a moment, before going black as he crumpled to the ground. He thought he heard a shout as he fell.

—-

“Don’t hurt him!” Virgil shrieked as the guy holding the Prince struck him in the back of the head. Dread pooled in Virgil’s stomach more like a flood as his hand came up to cover his mouth. Two of Janus’ guards lifted Roman’s limp form. The cloaked figure put a hand on his shoulder in some semblance of comfort, maybe it was to stop him from running to Roman, he couldn’t be sure. 

“Where d’we take him, boss?” One of them said, ignoring him - Virgil didn’t recognise the guy and he didn’t exactly care. He wasn’t really listening as Janus explained where they were going to keep him either, he could hardly hear him over the panic roaring in his ears, the hand he had clamped over his mouth was making it hard to breath. Especially with the short, sharp breaths he was already taking. He watched the men take Roman away like it was distant, foggy through the tears in his eyes. What had he done?

“Hey, hey Vee,” said a familiar voice, and he blinked to see Star in front of him, patting his cheek. “Deep breaths, you’re okay, ‘kay? Janny’s gonna sort all this out, your Prince ain’t gonna be damaged too much, they promised.”

Virgil tried, he really did, to take deep breaths as his hand was pulled away from his mouth and Janus came to his side too. 

“He’s- oh god he’s gonna hate me-” Virgil forced out through short breaths. “I - I’m such an awful person- I-”

“Virgil, darling,” Janus said, rubbing his shoulder. “No, look at me… I’m sorry darling, I didn’t realise… okay, it’s going to be difficult, but if he likes you as you said in your letter then you’ll be able to fix this, I know you, Virgil, and you’re very strong, you’ll get through this.”

“‘Sides, Roman’s basically incapable of hating anyone, he’s not gonna hate you - he’s just… probably gonna be upset,” Star shrugged. Virgil frowned. 

“I just - I just stood by and let him get captured by rebels.” Virgil said. “When - when in his mind I’m the only person who’s ever really protected him - I- I wouldn’t blame him if- if he wanted me dead, Star.”

Despite his face being obscured in shadow, Virgil could almost feel the eye roll. “You really think Roman is gonna want you dead? Really? Roman, who you described in your sappy ass letters as one of the kindest souls you’ve ever met?”

“I- I guess…” Virgil said softly. “Did -” he took a deep breath. “Did the revolution work?”

“Well,” Janus said, squeezing his shoulder before letting go. “I suppose we should go find out, hm? And then you can go see your Prince.”

—

The Queen and the King were to be dead. The castle had never been more alive, with people of the revolution using it as a new base, treating the wounded, inviting in the sick and starving. Virgil thought Roman might have liked to see it, maybe he would be happy with the change. But for now, Virgil simply sat in a chair in the palace dungeons, waiting for his Prince to wake. 

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[jjgrace42]

Symphonies: Chapter 36

Read on AO3

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Mother Knew Best

Akiko's grave was silent, but they were not.

Obito had started crying before they had even left the house. Shisui was trying his best to put on a strong face, but his eyes had been red-rimmed since he'd stepped out of his room that morning, and he couldn't stop sniffling as he clung to Kagami's sleeve. Kagami himself had done his best to keep himself as a solid foundation for his children, but his wife had been gone for a year, and he missed her. He kept himself from speaking as much as he could because his voice shook and broke and came with the threat of tears every time he said anything. Even when they tried to be quiet, sounds of sorrow kept tearing out of their chests as they stood before her headstone.

Akiko's grave was silent, and so was Kyoko.

His daughter had brought yuzu along, though she'd had to ask about Akiko's favorite food despite the dozens of jars of yuzu marmalade he still kept about the kitchen. After he'd given his answer the night before, she'd run to the market for it. She'd come back with the fruits as well as some white chrysanthemums. Common for gravesites, but the rest of them had brought shobu because they had been Akiko's favorite.

"I'll start," Kagami said as he poured the water over the stone, desperate to stop thinking about how Kyoko was staring at her brothers intently but hadn't looked at her mother's headstone once. He cleared his throat and hoped his voice would continue to work. He knelt and placed his incense. After he'd lit it, he pressed his hands together and started his prayer. Once he'd opened he eyes, he said, "Thank you for protecting our children. I know you're looking over them every day. I only wish—" His voice cracked as tears threatened to overflow. He had so much to say, but he said most of it every time he visited. "I know you're proud of them, but I miss having you here beside me as we raise them together. They've always needed their mother."

Obito choked out a cry. Kyoko shifted towards him, frowning, and adjusted her hold on her flowers so she could hook her arm through his.

Kagami kept speaking as he laid down his flowers and the yuzu mochi he had made two days prior. He'd barely finished and stood before Obito had dropped down in his place, almost knocking Kyoko down as he went. He started talking—rambling—through tears about the things he missed the most as he lit his incense and laid out his flowers and cookies.

"I miss you," he managed near the end of several minutes. "It's not fair. I don't want to miss you. I just want you here."

When Obito turned away and dragged both Shisui and Kyoko into a hug, he started sobbing. It was a while before he pulled back and rubbed at his eyes while apologizing.

"You don't have to apologize," Kagami rasped. "I'm proud of you." He held a hand towards his son and caught him as he collapsed into his hold.

Shisui tried to light his incense with shaking hands, but he couldn't get the match to strike. Kyoko knelt beside him, gifts set aside, and lit the match for him with a touch of chakra in her fingertips. Then she helped guide his hands to the incense bowl, and Kagami realized it was probably the first time she'd looked at the grave itself. Kyoko stayed at Shisui's side as he spent most of his time crying and clutching the flowers to his chest. By the time he managed to get out a few choked words about missing her hugs, the flowers were irrevocably twisted. Nevertheless, he put them down with the others.

Eventually, Shisui shuffled back and hid his face away in his arms. Kagami crouched beside him and put a hand on his back. "Kyoko," he croaked. "Go ahead."

She looked up at him with wide eyes as if the fact that she was next had blindsided her. She looked down at the grave, brow furrowing. Then she carefully placed the incense, lit it, and said a traditional prayer. She laid out the flowers delicately and then stacked the yuzu atop each out carefully so they wouldn't fall. She sat back seiza and stared at the stone for a long moment. Kagami nodded to her, hoping that would given her whatever encouragement she needed.

Kyoko took a breath.

"Akiko—" Kyoko's mouth snapped shut, and she blinked as if she had surprised herself. Kagami held his own breath, pushing his confusion aside as he watched the frustration that pulled sharply across his daughter's face. She took another breath, this one deeper. "Kaasan," she said tentatively, as if it was something she was testing. As if she hadn't called Akiko kaachan when she'd been alive.

Kyoko stared at the grave. Her hands twitched against her knees. After several moments of silence, during which Kagami could hear his own heartbeat, she said, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Kagami said softly. "Take however much time you need."

She shook her head. "No. I— I can't. I'm sorry." She got to her feet and took a step back.

"It's alright," he said again, unsure if his priority should be comforting her through the clear distress in her eyes or should instead be figuring out what was going on. He reached a hand for her and watched as she hesitated before stepping towards him. Pulling her into a hug, he tried his best to murmur words of encouragement. Assurance that things would be alright. But when they pulled apart, his eyes were stinging, and hers were dry.

"Let's head home," he rasped to all three of them.

"I need to meet with Tsunade-shisho," Kyoko said. She was frowning at the grave.

He took a breath. "Okay."

Before he could say anything else, his daughter disappeared in a shunshin.

— — — — —

Mikoto had set Shisui up a good ways away from the targets, meaning that collecting his two dozen kunai each time he wanted to restart took quite a while between the walk there, picking them all up, and the walk back. Kagami highly suspected that she had done that on purpose like she did with so many things. It gave them the opportunity to talk without anyone overhearing except for Itachi, who was managing some words but was still far from understanding their conversation or being able to repeat it. Despite all of that, however, it still took him a while to speak. When he finally did, he opened with, "Something is wrong with Kyoko, and I don't know how to fix it."

Mikoto hummed, not looking away from where Shisui was searching for his one stray kunai in the brush. Itachi was toddling circles around her as she constantly switched the hand he was holding from one to the other and back. "Maybe I've missed it," she said. "But what makes you say such a thing?"

"She does nothing outside of training unless I ask her to stop and sit for tea."

"She does do that." She finally glanced towards him.

"She's five, Mikoto. And there are things a five-year-old should be reacting to that she . . . doesn't. Like her first kill." He paused. "Kills," he corrected. "Or unlocking her sharingan."

Mikoto's brow creased. "She does seem different."

"And you didn't see her at Akiko's grave this morning."

"Everyone grieves differently."

"I know. But Kyoko used to grieve how you would expect a child to grieve. She cried and asked questions and missed her mother. And then she didn't. If this is grief, I don't recognize it."

They both paused as Shisui returned. Kagami stepped forward to help adjust the angle he was throwing at. Several minutes later, Shisui ran off to gather his kunai again.

"Maybe she isn't grieving anymore. Or maybe it just looks different now."

"Or maybe I've missed something important," he said, staring at where Shisui was excitedly examining his kunai groupings on the target. "And my daughter is suffering because of it."

"Maybe." She leaned down to pick up Itachi. "Have you asked her?"

Kagami huffed. "Have I asked Kyoko to tell me what's wrong with her?"

Mikoto narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't play dumb, Oniisan. Have you asked her to tell you what's going on?"

He looked away, dragging a hand through his hair. "Not in so many words. I've gotten her to talk to me about some smaller things, but . . . even with those conversations, I get the feeling that she isn't telling me everything." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do you think I did something that made her not trust me?"

"I don't know," Mikoto admitted.

"Obasan!" Shisui yelled, rushing back over to them with his kunai all packed away. "Can we try tree-walking now?"

Mikoto glanced briefly at Kagami. "I'm not sure if we're quite there yet."

"But I told Kyoko I was going to!"

"Ah." She smiled. "Well, if you told Kyoko-chan, then of course." She handed Itachi off to Kagami and ushered Shisui towards the closest tree. "We can't risk letting her down, can we?"

— — — — —

First Chapter — Previous Chapter — Next Chapter

[mystic-bookshelf]

Symphony for you and me - a duet for flute and violin

Chapter 4: Late night talks in F minor

AO3

For Luka, music was an all-consuming force. He'd forget everything around him, being completely lost in the melodies surrounding him. Especially when his mind wouldn't shut up about whatever troubles he might have. He just had to get it free out his system by playing it out.

As he was completely focused on the music, switching back and forth between Tschaikowsky pieces and heart songs, he didn't notice a cleaning lady entering the hall, until she directly spoke to him, which startled him so much that he almost fell out of his chair. People really needed to stop doing that to him. „Sir, are you okay?“, the cleaning lady asked. It was only then that he returned to reality and really registered his surroundings. Orange light flooded the hall, suggesting the sun was already setting. He looked down at his hands and noticed his fingertips being red and feeling sore. This normally never happened. God, how long had he stayed here? He got up and rubbed his hands over his face. The good thing was, he did actually feel better now. Like the music had cleansed his brain from all the overthinking he had done earlier.

„Don't let me bother you,“ the cleaning lady said, „but I have work to do in here.“

Luka nodded and mumbled an apology, which was followed by a loud growl. It seems his mind wasn’t the only empty thing about him. Now that he thought about it, the only meal he had had today was a piece of toast in the morning. Maybe it was time to call it a day and go home.

He packed up the violin, wished the cleaning lady a nice evening and exited the building just in time to see the bus leave right before his nose. Great, the timing couldn’t have been better! The bus plan said the next bus would come in forty minutes, so walking was the faster option. 

Well, some fresh air won't hurt him. So he walked through the streets, his mind allowing him to not constantly think about Marinette or Mr. Boulet or the concert or anyone but to just exist in the moment and take in the early nightlife of Paris.

He passed pubs filled with people chatting about everything and nothing, couples walking together hand in hand, little kids running around and playing made up games, arguing one minute and laughing together the next. Some pigeons were sitting on the rooftops looking over the city, others were being fed bread crumbs and seeds by a man sitting on a bench as they were cooing gratefully. Over all that sound, a gentle breeze whistled a sweet tune.

Luka smiled, listening to this concert of Paris and started humming to himself. People might say it was weird, describing all those noises as ‚music’, especially if that came from a classical musician such as himself. But he had picked up little melodies in the city noises even back when he was little and still lived on the houseboat by the Seine. He‘d listen carefully to the sounds of the small waves on the water, trying to mimic them on his instrument. Composers like Smetana had done this centuries ago with the Moldau, so maybe it wasn‘t so weird after all. He enjoyed finding music in mundane things such as random city noises the average person would find nothing but annoying. It just needed a closer look to find the inspiration.

The sun sank deeper as he kept walking, leaving the idle chatting and laughing in the livelier parts of the city behind him. It became quieter around him, until he picked up a new sound... What was that?

Luka slowed down and looked around confused. There was a very quiet and muffled melody he couldn't quite identify yet. Where did that come from? He made a few more steps, the melody becoming louder.

Was that… a flute? Playing Vivaldi‘s „Summer“?

As he looked around, his eyes fell upon a bakery at the street corner ahead of him which seemed to be the source of the sound. He approached the building, the music getting louder and as he looked through the window, his eyes widened.

In a pink apron, standing behind the counter, was Marinette.

He stopped in his tracks and stared at her like he was hypnotized by the notes making its way through the glass to him. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be completely lost in the music she created, so she didn't notice him. Luka took in the music. Usually Summer sounded like an angry song for him, like an untamed storm raging, tearing everything down that dared to stay in its way, leaving behind nothing. A song of rage.

This version felt different. The storm was still there, brutal as always, but the music seemed to tell the story from the perspective of someone trying to resist the storm instead of bending to its will. Like someone trying to regain control over their life, refusing to let the storm take away everything. The notes trembled with such intense emotion that he could feel it in his heart. Her fingers moved with incredible precision, which he had seen before with professional flutists. That girl was extremely talented. And the way she moved and her expression kept changing made him think that she not only was incredibly talented, but also incredibly beautiful.

He felt his lips form into a smile, completely in awe of the performance he was witnessing and kept the smile until the last note faded out and Marinette lowered the flute, looking down to it.

Wow.

What an interpretation.

There weren't words accurate enough to describe how Luka felt about this magical performance he had just witnessed.

He had kept thinking about her since Friday and if he was honest, he had wanted to see her again. Now that he was here, he should tell her hello. Hopefully she'd be just as happy to see him as he was.

He looked down on himself and removed a few lints from his jacket, then made a few steps to the door. Through the glass, he saw Marinette facing away from him, so she hadn't noticed him yet. After checking himself one last time to make sure he really looked presentable, Luka pressed down the door handle and above him, a chiming bell announced his entrance.

Marinette turned around and when her eyes met his, his heart skipped a beat. Her hair shimmered in the remaining sunlight flooding the bakery, the pink apron had the same color as her pretty lips and god it should be illegal to have eyes so blue that he wanted nothing more but to drown in them forever.

She was breathtakingly beautiful in this moment. To be fair, she was beautiful to him in every moment he had spent with her, but now even more so. Upon realizing that he hadn‘t done anything else besides staring and silently appreciating everything about her, he swallowed nervously and lifted his free hand. „Uh… hi,“ he said, waving. Marinette blinked at him.

„L-Luka? You… you’re he-here? W-what … are you-„

She shook her head. „Gah, sorry, that sounded so rude, uh, I- I promise I didn‘t mean it like that, uh… I mean… uh… h-hi.“

She lifted her hand shyly and if he didn‘t already think Marinette was the cutest person ever, flustered Marinette was a whole other level.

Luka smiled.

„You weren't rude, don‘t worry,“ he reassured her, „I‘m sorry I startled you like that. Uh... I just so happened to walk by and then I heard music from here and then I saw you in here and I thought I could tell you hi...“

To his disappointment, Marinette didn't exactly seem happy to see him, but rather uncomfortable. He bit his lip.

„You... heard music?“, Marinette asked carefully.

„I... I did,“ Luka admitted, „I mean, that... that was the most beautiful interpretation of Vivaldi's summer I've ever heard.“

She continued to stare at him dumbfounded and he slowly started to think that maybe he shouldn't have come here in the first place. The fact that Marinette seemed to not want him here made his heart sink.

„Y-You... you heard.... that?“, she asked in a shaky voice.

„Yes,“ he repeated himself, „b-but you don't have to feel bad or anything! It sounded amazing, really! I just... I really just wanted to say hi when I saw you.“

Marinette kept standing still like a deer in the headlight for a few more seconds, then she violently shook her head.

„O-Oh, really?“, she uttered, trying to sound confident but failed, „oh wow, haha, I didn't expect to have an audience. I mean, it's not just anyone, it's you!" She made a hand gesture towards him. "Luka Couffaine! The greatest, most talented musician ever, just casually listening to my playing."

"Marinette, I-"

"And you heard me, just casually. After I haven't played for literal months! And then you tell me I'm great and.... and....." Her erratic hand movements slowly stopped. "Did... did that really just happen?“

Her voice was barely a whisper.

Luka slowly nodded, unsure of how to interpret her reaction. „Yeah? That just happened.“

Marinette eyebrow twitched "Huh..."

The energy seemed to leave her body as she slowly made a few steps back and leaned against a wall. "Oh my god..."

Now Luka started to worry.

„Mari-“

„EXCUSE ME I'LL BE RIGHT BACK,“ she yelled and quickly disappeared through a door, leaving behind a confused Luka.

—

Marinette leaned against the wall and tried to focus on her breathing. What? The? Hell? Just? Happened?

The shift had been so uneventful and suddenly, Luka Couffaine, THE Luka Couffaine had walked casually through the door and had casually complimented her flute skills. Casually. And she had just made a complete fool of herself. Marinette groaned into her shaky hands.

This was a disaster! A DISASTER A DISASTER A DIS-

STOP.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Try to calm down.

Marinette pressed her cold fingers against her hot cheeks.

She tried to peek into the bakery as inconspicuously as possible. The unexpected visitor was still standing there, looking around. He gave off a feeling of uncertainty which, given how Marinette had just acted, probably wasn't surprising, but at least he didn‘t seem too offended or weirded out. Maybe he didn't totally think of her as crazy. Ok, Marinette, just calm down. Breathe in, breathe out. Even though you’re weird as hell, Luka is a nice person who just wanted to be nice and give you a compliment. And he's also your customer, so go back out there already! After calming down a little, Marinette returned from the kitchen, her gaze meeting Luka‘s. His face seemed to light up when he saw her, as if he were happy to see her again, and her heart skipped a beat.

„Uhm... I'm so sorry about... that,“ she apologized. „You just caught me a little off guard there.“

„Hey, it's okay,“ Luka smiled and reassured her, „I mean, I didn't mean to be weird or anything by just coming in here and-“

„You're not weird,“ she insisted and then managed a smile. „Out of both of us, I'm definitely the weirdo.“

Luka lifted his hands. „Please don't be so hard on yourself. I've kind of taken you by surprise there, I'm sorry. I just... I wanted you to know that I really liked your playing.“

Marinette gave herself credit for not flipping out again when he complimented her for the third ( third! ) time this evening, but instead kept it at an idiotic grin.

„You really think so?“, she asked.

His face lit up. „Trust me, I'm a pro, I know what I'm talking about. Not only was your technique exceptional, I could really feel the passion there. That is the key to good music! You can take my word for it when I say I was impressed.“

Marinette hoped she wasn't blushing as hard as she thought she was.

„That means a lot, really. Especially coming from someone like you.“ She rubbed her neck. „Thank you.“

Luka smiled. „I mean it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you could even play professionally!“

… Professionally.

Her smile vanished as the ugly feeling from the audition came back. She suddenly saw herself on stage, shaky hands playing a shaky flute. In front of her, the jury mocked her and her awful playing.

Right. The personnel managers wouldn't agree with what Luka had just said. In their eyes, Marinette had been nothing but an unworthy loser. There was no point in getting her hopes up about that.

Luka ruffled his brows. „Have I said something wrong?“

Marinette opened her mouth but didn't immediately answer. What should she even say to him? She really didn't want to tell him about the failed auditions, and her depressed episode that she was in way too long and probably hadn't fully recovered from yet and how she had decided to give up her dreams for something that she knew wouldn't make her as happy. Because admitting to that felt like finally accepting it. As if saying the words out loud would mean no turning back. And even though she had talked about this with her parents a million times, the thought of telling Luka all that.... that went hand in hand with a lot of shame.

She knew the thought was irrational. Maybe it was because he was already a big name in the industry, someone she had looked up to for a long time not only for his talent, but for the hard work he had put in. Admitting she was unable to work just as hard as he did...

Marinette gripped the counter.

„Luka, can I ask you something?“

„Sure," Luka said, giving her his full attention. „Did you... did you always know music would be your career?“, Marinette asked and met his eyes.

Luka softened and answered without hesitation. „Definitely." Marinette admired his confidence. „But... let's say there's something stopping you from achieving that dream. Like... I don't know, all the odds were against you. What would you-“ „Even then,“ His voice was firm. „there's nothing else I'd do. No matter what this hypothetical obstacle might be, no matter how hard it might be. I think if some universal force like destiny exists, it has decided that my life should always be filled with music. If I did anything but music... I wouldn't be myself..“ Marinette looked at him. „But... What is it that makes you so sure of it? Where do you take all this confidence from?“ Luka smiled and leaned on the counter. „It's not confidence, Marinette. Well, ok, that's not true, confidence does play a part, but it's mostly about... how do I put this?“

He scratched his chin, deep in thought.

„It's hard to explain. But music is... so much more than just a career to me. It's an essential part of who I am. I need it the same way I need water, or oxygen. And it's... I guess you could say it's a way for me to understand the world.“ Marinette tilted her head. „What do you mean?“ „I hear music in everything,“ he explained, „I'm constantly surrounded by it. In any noise, in any loud facility, in a loud heart, I hear little melodies which I can interpret in different ways. And it helps me understand people and sometimes communicate with them. I'm really not good with words at all, but things that can't be said with words can be said with music. Do you understand what I mean?“

Marinette shrugged. „I can sort of follow.“

„It's like... you can play a piece differently depending on what you try to tell the audience,“ he explained, „I can play the same tune either happy, or sad, or angry. That is why I think the way someone plays a song says a lot about them.“

Marinette's brows furrowed as she thought about what Luka had just told her. „I... I've never looked at it that way. But that's such a beautiful way to think about music.“ „It's not just that I love music, it's a part of me,“ Luka continued, „It's like, I don't function without it. This may sound weird and over dramatic but that's how I feel. And I would never do anything else because I know it wouldn't nearly come close to the feeling of fulfillment that music gives me...“ He chuckled. „That sounded so corny just now, sorry.“

„It didn't,“ Marinette replied. „Okay, maybe a little, but... I think I understand what you mean. Music being a part of you and all that. But love for music can't be everything. I mean, what if you weren't a virtuoso? You were born with the talent to play, but what if you weren't?“ Luka smiled and tilted his head. „Then I'd learn and practice until my fingers fell off.“ „But what if you still end up not being good enough?“

Luka looked down to the violin case next to him, bowed down, took the violin out and placed it under his chin. „You know, playing well, at the end of the day, is a learned skill,“

He played a short, simple melody.

„...but you don't learn passion. You have to be born with it.“

Luka played the same melody again, but this time more emotional, making the notes seem fuller, more meaningful. Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, considering his words.

„Born with the passion,“ she mumbled more to herself. Then she smiled. „For claiming that you're not good with words, you delivered quite the inspirational speech, you know,“ she said. „You think?“, he smiled back, putting the violin back in its case. „Yes. I mean it. Not just now but in general. I find your playing incredibly inspiring...“

Luka's smile widened and he averted his gaze. If she looked closely, she could see him blush. „I certainly hope to be. Thank you, Marinette.“

He met her gaze again and the eye contact felt so intense that Marinette's heart started beating faster. Not only was his music mesmerizing, he was overall a very handsome man with a gentle smile. Marinette could probably look at him for hours and never get tired of his face.

The moment was suddenly interrupted by a loud growl. Luka's face changed from soft to surprised and he put a hand over his belly.

„Right, I forgot,“ he mumbled, „I haven't eaten anything in... twelve hours, I think? Maybe more?“

„O-oh,“ Marinette looked horrified, „I'm so sorry, I keep talking about music and stuff without actually serving you! Hold on, I'll just...“

She grabbed one of the leftover baguettes, stuffed it in a bag and handed it to her customer.

„H-Here you go!“

He took the baguette and without thinking further about it, he tore off a piece and stuffed it in its mouth.

„Thank you,“ He said with a hand in front of his mouth. He continued after swallowing. „I can't believe I entered a bakery and didn't order a single thing despite almost starving,“ he laughed, „apparently making music and talking about music has that effect on me.“

Marinette looked at him worried. „But how come you haven't eaten until now? Were you at rehearsal this long? You came here pretty late.“

„Well,“ Luka leaned against the counter, „I stayed late. You know, Concert's just in a few days and I didn't have a great rehearsal today. So I decided to stay longer and practice on my own.“ Marinette put her chin in her hands. „For some reason, I can't imagine someone like you having an off day at rehearsal.“ He shrugged. „Happens to the best of us. It's quite common, actually. I just had some stuff on my mind, that's all.“ Yeah, off days are common, especially those that are also audition days.

Marinette let go of the negative thought and went back to focus on Luka. „Given your talent, the extra practice and everything. I don't think you have too much to worry about. I'm sure you'll be exceptional as always.“ Luka smiled thankfully. „Yeah, I hope to be. This concert's very special because it's the last one with our current conductor.“ Marinette tilted her head. „Isn't the conductor from the NY Philharmonic Louis Boulet?“ „Exactly. I see you know you conductors,“ he laughed and she blushed at the compliment. „O-of course I know the big names!“, she stated. „Never doubted that,“ Luka replied. „Anyway, he's retiring after the concert, so I want everything to be perfect. I'm not accepting anything less.“ As he kept talking, Marinette's expression softened. „That's very admirable of you, I'm impressed,“ she said in a soft voice, „He must be very important to you. How long have you worked with him?“ Luka rested his head on his hand. „Very long. In fact, he was the one who discovered me. I was just some small five year old boy, playing his violin out of boredom at the railway station and he just so happened to walk past.“ A chuckle escaped him. „He had stared at me for maybe five minutes before he approached me, had kneeled down to my eye level and asked me how I knew how to play Debussy and I, not knowing what a Debussy was, just said 'There are no bussys, only trains.'“ They both laughed. „I'm not surprised at all someone like you was able to capture his attention. Especially when you were able to play Debussy at that age. He does have some hard pieces.“ „And like I said, I had no idea what that meant,“ Luka continued the story, trying not to giggle, „I had just picked up the song somewhere and then played it. And well, one thing led to another and suddenly he offered me a scholarship and later a career in the New Yorker Philharmonic as the first violin.“ „What made you decide to go Overseas?,“ Marinette asked, invested in his story. „I mean, wasn't it scary to be alone, far away from your family?“ Luka shrugged. „Believe me, it was hard for me. But my family didn't have the money to send me to a music school, so I was dependent on that scholarship. Mr. Boulet had never pushed me to leave, but I knew this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. And so, I took the risk and went to New York.“ „That's impressive,“ Marinette said. She really admired his dedication. „I don't think I would've been able to do that.“

Luka nodded. „Yeah, it wasn't always easy. In the beginning, I was really homesick and it took me a while to get used to it. And the people at my school were... Well, some were nice, others weren't. Maybe they were envious because I was Mr. Boulet's protege instead of them, I don't know. But Mr. Boulet gave me so much support, reassured me time and time again. Everytime I doubted myself, he told me he wouldn't have offered the scholarship if he didn't think I could make it.“

He looked at Marinette again. „Just like him, I only complimented your playing because I meant it.“

There was so much confidence in the way he had said that and Marinette felt warm again. So he really thought of her as a talented musician? His words from earlier came back to her and her mind formed so many questions she wanted to ask him. If you think I'm so good, why didn't the jury? I worked so hard, why wasn't it enough? Was it because even with all the practice, she lacked the passion? Did he think she had passion? Did he believe in her? Instead of asking any questions, she just said: „Mr. Boulet seems to be a very supportive person. You're lucky you have him on your side.“ Luka smiled. „Sure am. But now he's retiring. I mean, he's been a conductor for decades now and he can't do it forever, so I knew it was coming. But...“ Marinette tilted her head and furrowed her brows. „Are you okay, Luka?“ Luka's face flickered away, his expression becoming almost troubled. He picked on his black nails, as if he were nervous. Marinette's heart fell. She didn't like seeing him look so down. For a long time, he said nothing, until he turned back to her. „I miss him, to be honest,“ he admitted with a strained voice, „I mean, he was my mentor since I was little. He helped me so much without ever asking for anything in return. My mom had warned me that people in the music business often were ruthless backstabbers, but he wasn't like that. This man has such a pure heart, full of love and dedication for his craft. He inspired me so much and helped me become the person I am today. The only thing he ever asked from me was to never stop pouring my heart and soul into the music. He always gave me so much creative freedom, as long as I make the music feel alive. And now, I... I...“ He swallowed. „God, I'm talking as if he will die soon,“ he said more to himself. Marinette could practically feel the anxiety surrounding him and him trying to get rid of the ugly thought. He took a deep breath. „Sorry, I don't know why I just said all that, I....“ Without thinking about it, Marinette laid a hand on top of his. His eyes grew just a tad wider at the sudden contact and Marinette prayed he couldn't hear heart beating loud in her chest. „You don't have to apologize, it's okay. I'm sorry to hear that you're feeling that way. I sort of get it. It's a big change for you, so it's only natural to feel that way, especially if Mr. Boulet is like family to you.“ He didn't answer, just locked eyes with her. Marinette would admire his beauty if he weren't so sad right now. She smiled sympathetically. „You don't have to feel guilty for... feeling anxious about the future. It's okay to be scared, and if you have the right people to support you, you'll be okay. Just... trust in yourself.“

She dared to lightly squeeze his hand. The sadness in his eyes slowly melted away and his features softened a little, until his lips formed into a smile that reached his eyes once again. He squeezed her hand back.

„You know, you're a very kind person, Marinette.“

His voice was barely a whisper and now it was her turn to look away out of embarrassment and a poor attempt to hide her blush.

The bakery went quiet once more, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. They just stood there, seeking comfort in each other's company, enjoying the moment of connection and oh god, was she still holding his hand!?

She pulled away out of embarrassment and instantly regretted it.

If Luka minded, he didn't show.

"Uhm... yeah. So anyway, I'm sure Mr. Boulet will keep cheering for you... and I will, too," Marinette said, „because I'm sure you'll be great and make your mentor proud.“

Luka still looked at her with a gentle smile on his face.

"Hey," he suddenly said, "would you... maybe consider coming to the concert as well?"

She turned her head back to him. "Huh?"

"Only if you want to. But you said you'd cheer for me and uh..." he looked away, "tickets are still available, as far as I know. So if you feel like it... I'd be happy if you'd come as well. If you're up for it."

He looked really cute when he was nervous.

Marinette considered the invitation, then nodded. "Actually I'd love to come and cheer for you.“

The nervousness disappeared and he grinned at her.“Great. Then I'll work extra hard to make this an unforgettable night!“

She chuckled. „You almost sounded as if you were asking me out or something."

Luka laughed. "Oh, I probably would if I didn't have to perfor-"

Realizing what he had just said, he stared at her wide eyed, cheeks as red as Marinette assumed her own had to be. Was he actually implying that he'd consider... to take her on a date?

Ok, Maybe he didn't actually mean it, don't overthink this. And god, don't freak out !!

Luka looked around the room, seemingly nervous. "Uh, anyway, it's gotten pretty late."

"Ah, right," Marinette said, trying to hide her disappointment that he was about to leave, "I have to close up shop... which I should've done half an hour ago... Not that I want to kick you out, but I think you should go home and have dinner."

"But I just ate an entire baguette."

"That doesn't count," she scolded him, "a baguette won't do, you should eat something proper!“

A chuckle escaped him. "Fine, I guess you're right. Thank you for looking out for me."

"It's what friends do," she said before realizing what she had just said. But Luka didn't seem to mind. Actually, his smile grew even wider. "Right, friends look after one another."

They both smiled at each other. "But speaking of baguette," Luka opened his jacket and fished out his wallet, but Marinette stopped him. "It's on the house."

"But-"

"It’s okay," she insisted, "Take it as a thank you. For last friday. Which reminds me, I still have your umbrella!”

"You can give it back after the concert," Luka said with a sheepish grin, which Marinette returned.

"Then I’ll definitely have to come. Just... promise me you'll have a proper meal tonight."

A laugh escaped him. „You keep insisting on that, you want photo proof or something?“ She thought about it for a second. „Actually sure, why not.“

„Then can I have your number?“

Marinette hid her giggles behind her hand. God, he was so smooth. She grabbed a pen, scribbled her phone number on a napkin and handed it to him. His finger brushed against hers and it felt like an electric shock ran through her body.

„Well then, I guess I'll text you later,“ he winked at her and Marinette did her best to not die on the spot.

„I'll look forward to it,“ she said and gave herself a pat on the shoulder for making it sound as casual as possible.

„Well then,“ he said, „Thanks again for the baguette. I'll see you.“ „No problem. See you.“ And with that, he was out the door.

~~~

Marinette was already laying in her bed, her laptop next to her, when her phone vibrated with a text message from an unknown number. She opened the message.

LC: Does this count?

The second message was a picture of... oh wow.

Marinette chuckled.

MDC: Are those dino nuggets?

She almost felt like a teenager as she watched the screen with anticipation, and her heart made a flip when the message was marked as 'read' and three dots appeared on the screen. LC: :))) LC: it's late, cooking takes forever and that was the next best thing MDC: fair MDC: alright, you're off the hook this time MDC: next time it'll have to be something healthier though! LC: Thank you for your generosity. I won't let you down next time. I'll have you know, I'm an excellent cook

Marinette chuckled.

MDC: Really? LC: Maybe not excellent. But good enough. MDC: Okay, I'll believe you MDC: Oh, and Luka? LC: Yeah?

She felt her heart beating in her chest. MDC: I'm looking forward to the concert. Buying tickets right this second:) LC: That’s great :D LC: I'm so happy you'll be there! LC: good night, Marinette MDC: Good night <3

[leftoverenvy]

Tastes Like Sugar (ch. 23)

Summary: India Mae, or Indi, is a music major, struggling to pay bills, tuition, work, and make good grades.  Emily Prentiss is a BAU profiler, as well as a DC socialite thanks to her huge family fortune.  The two enter into a mutually beneficial arrangement: Emily will pay for Indi's school if Indi accompanies Emily to her social functions for a few months, posing as her girlfriend.  As weeks go by, the lines between their arrangement and their true feelings start to blur.  But money can't buy love, right?

Pairing: India Mae Banks x Emily Prentiss; OC x Emily Prentiss

Warnings: fluffy smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.4k

Read on Wattpad | Ao3 | Previous Chapters

Taglist: @ssa-sapphic 🧸; @5raysofsunshine 🌮; @reidselle 🦭; @milfprotector 🐝💚; @gaelic-symphony 🎻 ; @scargarcia-magshotchner ; @sadgirlml 🌻💌; @hotchs-bitch ; @multiverse-mxdness ; @madelineleong

Chapter 23 - Exalted Entanglements

I sighed, reading the same paragraph for the fifth time.  My final recital song was constantly playing through my head, the discordant note I never seemed to get right resonating louder than the rest.  I really should go practice.  I needed it.  The recital was coming up in just a few weeks.  Dr. Brooke would skin me alive if I messed up that same measure again this week.

I turned a page backwards to re-start this section.  I needed to finish this chapter before school tomorrow.  Only then would I let myself get back to the hellish piece Dr. Brooke was punishing me with.  

"Hey you," I heard softly from the doorway.  I looked up from my book, my grin stretching my cheeks.  Em was rarely home on the weekends; she had been working so much.  Before me, she had worked on paperwork right after a case.  She never minded staying late at Quantico.  But now, she had something to come home to and she never did paperwork.  Apparently, that had caught up with her and most of her free weekends were spent in the office catching up.

"Get everything done?" I asked.

"Not quite.  I've at least caught up to this month, though," she said ruefully.  Her long legs crossed the library in a few strides, and she plopped next to me with a heavy sigh.  "I think I left my brain at Quantico," she said through a large yawn.

"Awe baby," I cooed at her.  Stretching my arms wide, "Come here."  Emily settled into my side and pecked the side of my head.  "Lay down," I commanded softly.

Emily settled her head in my lap, and my hand immediately fell to her hair, petting the top of her head gently.  Within minutes, her breathing slowed, and her feet rubbed together like they always did when she was asleep.  I smiled softly, content to be her pillow.  I only wished I could see her peaceful, sleeping face better.  I relished our sweet, silent moment together, loving the fact that she felt so safe with me.  I couldn't help but feel grateful I felt so safe with her, too.  Amazed to so quickly find a home in her.

I turned back to my book; my recital piece could wait.  Em's sleep was far more important, and I didn't want to disturb her.  Not that it was a hardship to lay with her.  I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than to lay lazily with Emily on the couch.  Especially because we hadn't had a weekend together in ages.

I finished my chapter, concentration issues gone now that Emily was here.  She slept so long, I even read next week's chapter.  This silence and tranquility re-centered me.  I wished Emily would let me be there for her more.  It thrilled me to be a source of comfort and strength for her.

"Mmm," Emily hummed.  I felt her turn over and mumble, "That feels nice, angel."

I looked down at her looking up at me through sleepy eyes.  "Did you have a good nap?"

"Mmm," she rubbed her eyes softly.  "Yes, thank you.  I'm sorry I fell asleep so quickly, but I needed that."

"I know, babe.  I wish you slept more," I lamented.  I put my book the side so I could caress her face, drawing one finger down the line of her strong jaw.  Her eyes closed in pleasure for a brief moment, and then she grabbed my hand and turned to kiss the palm.  Her lips trailed down to my wrist, her tongue sneaking out to flick against my pulse point.  I couldn't stop my heart from beating faster; Emily always excited me.

"Whatcha reading?" she asked after a few seconds. 

I picked my book back up.  "This novel for my lit class.  I was a bit behind," I rambled, "but I went to the bookstore a few days ago, so now I'm catching up.  I don't know how I missed it on the syllabus at the beginning of the semester, but I did.  Anyway," I rolled my eyes at myself, "I've got it now."

Emily's brows furrowed.  "Did you put it on your school account?  I didn't see a bill."

"No, I just went to Barnes & Noble," I brushed it off.  My fingers wrapped themselves around the tiny hairs framing Em's face.  She was so fucking beautiful, I couldn't concentrate on anything else.

"How much was it?"

"It was only $30 – no big deal!"  I internally paused.  No big deal.  Look how far I'd come.  Last semester, if I had a surprise book I forgot to buy for the semester, I'd have a freak out about how I would find an extra thirty dollars in the budget.  "I just used the card you gave me."

"Baby," she chided softly.  "That's not for school stuff.  I'll transfer money later this evening."

"Don't worry about it."  She sat up with a scathing look.  I knew better than to tell Emily what to do – especially about money.  "It's all your money," I defended anyway.  "What does it matter which giant pool of money it comes from?"

She sighed and combed her messy nap hair through her fingers.  "It matters to me, love.  I still want to take care of you, no matter what you are to me.  I'll always take care of you."

Her soft voice, dripping with sincerity, caused my heart to stutter.  I hadn't felt so safe or loved since I moved to DC.  This city was always so cold, the people detached.  Everyone was always thinking about whose neck they could step on to get ahead in this city.  It was hostile; no room for found family.  And I had no more blood family to fall back on.

I couldn't help it; I launched myself into her arms.  I needed to make Emily feel just as special as she made me feel.  My lips pressed against hers instantly.  But I needed more.  I swung a leg over her lap to pull myself closer to her.  But it wasn't close enough.  My lips were frantic, my fingers pulling at her shirt.

"Baby," Emily gasped in surprise.  "I just woke up!  Let me catch up."

"Hurry," I begged, already breathless, "I need you."

I nipped at her lips while I tangled my fingers into her hair.  "Baby, slow down," she commanded softly.  Her lips, deliberately slow, calmed my frenzy.  She sucked softly on my bottom lip, pulling a groan deep from chest.  Her hands smoothed down my body, settling on my hips.  She helped me rock them against her thigh; I wanted to move faster, but her hands forced an excruciating, teasing pace.  Her lips trailed down my neck, still sucking, leaving a trail of her saliva.  "We have all the time in the world," she murmured against my neck.

I rocked my hips harder, signaling to her I needed it faster.  Her hands slid around to the tops of my thighs.  "My my," she teased, mischief coloring her voice, "You are needy, aren't you?"  Her fingers trailed softly up my thighs, raising goosebumps the higher they rose. 

All I could manage was a whimpered, "please," as I buried my face in her neck, my hips continuing to rock.

Her hand slipped underneath my shorts, and her finger traced over my panties.  "Please what?" I didn't need to see her face to know she was smirking.  I should have been annoyed at her arrogance; I should have been embarrassed that she could rile me up so quickly.  But all I could focus on was getting her finger on my bare skin, getting her inside of me.

"Emily," I whimpered.  "PL-"  I gasped as she pushed my panties to the side and plunged one finger inside of me.  "Yes," I hissed.  I pushed my hips as low as they would go to get her deeper.  I grabbed the back of the couch and started pumping against her finger.  "Em," I begged, "More.  Please."

"My greedy baby," she cooed, but blessedly added another finger.  "So wet for me already.  So needy."

I was growing incoherent.  I couldn't help myself when she spoke to me like that.  Her low, husky voice – teasing and sexy – never failed to cease any thought but getting off.  I had no control over the noises coming from my mouth.  They were all for Emily.

"That's it, baby.  Ride my fingers."  Her other hand moved up the front of my body.  She lightly traced my lips before pushing her thumb in my mouth.  I sucked on her finger, trying to stay quiet.

"Harder," I moaned around her finger, pushing my hips down as far as I could.

"You need it deeper?"  I simply nodded.  As she pulled her fingers out, I whimpered in protest.  "Be patient, baby.  Lay back," she said gently.  She pushed softly against me, helping me lay on the couch.  She ghosted her fingertips up my legs as I settled my head against the arm of the couch.

"Em-"

"I said be patient," she reminded.  Her fingers hooked over the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down my legs.  "Be good for me and be patient."

She wasted no more time.  Her head fell between my legs, and she licked up my slit once before sucking on my clit.  "Oh god," I groaned.  One hand pushed her hair out of the way while the other tightly squeezed the couch cushion.  "More," I begged.  I felt her exhaled chuckle tickle my skin, but she didn't say anything.  She slid one long finger inside me.  She pushed into me so slowly I thought I'd combust.  She curled her finger slightly and then pulled back out.  Before I could protest again, she slammed two fingers into me roughly.  "Ung," I grunted.  "Fuck."

I sprinted to my peak, my stomach muscles tightening deliciously in anticipation.  "Emily, Emily," I chanted.  I couldn't think of any other words.  The only thing I knew was Emily.  All I could feel was Emily.  "Emily!"  I rocked my hips in time with her tongue and keened as I reached my release.  My muscles relaxed, and I melted into the couch.  I threw an arm over my eyes as I tried to catch my breath.

Emily pressed a kiss to each thigh and hip bone, and then trailed a line of kisses up my abdomen.  "Mmm," I moaned as the waves of my orgasm dwindled slowly.  How was it possible she always made me feel so good?

My earlier passion turned into a yearning to be close to her again.  I hadn't noticed before, but Emily had only half stripped me.  I pushed Emily back and pulled my shirt over my head.  "I want to feel you close," I whispered sheepishly.

"Closer than in between your legs?" she teased.  Though smirking, she shed her own shirt and laid down between my legs.  She rested her chin on my belly, looking up at me with sparkling eyes.  I sighed in contentment.  I would never get enough of Emily like this.  The majesty of being this intimate would never lessen.

I tilted my head to the side, resting my head in my hand.  "Thank you, baby," I whispered.  With my free hand, I ran my fingers through her silken hair.  I tried to untangle the knots I had created earlier.

"You look so beautiful like this," she muttered.  It was almost as if she were talking to herself.  "The lighting is perfect," she mused.

"For what?"

Her head snapped up.  "Don't move.  I mean it.  Please, just let me-"  She stood up and raced out of the room.  I sat up halfway in confusion.  I had been enjoying the connection and tranquility of just laying together.  Emily always brought me such peace.

I waited a few seconds, but it felt longer due to my confusion about what she was doing.  She returned with a sketch pad and charcoal.  Realization dawned on me that she wanted to draw me.  I was incredibly flattered to be her muse.  She leaned down, brushing a kiss against my forehead.  "My angel," she whispered.  "You are so pretty.  I have to draw you.  You are so fucking beautiful."

She sat down and opened her sketch book.  She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly.  Slowly, through her impossibly long lashes, she looked up at me from her spot on the floor.  "Don't move," she warned seriously.  And she was off.

I tried to peek at her work, but she had angled the paper so that I couldn't see.  But that didn't preclude me from seeing Emily's hands swiping back and forth over the paper.  She made endless, quick, harsh flicks against the paper, and then she would go back and smudge over the lines with her fingers.  It was fascinating watching her.  And now obvious why she was always covered in charcoal when she was done drawing.

Emily had failed to put a shirt back on, and watching her do what she loved while half naked was distracting.  I shifted onto my side to get a better view.  "Tilt your chin up," she interrupted my musings.  I wordlessly complied.  If the price of getting to cum like I just did was letting her draw me afterwards and get to stare at her half naked, I'd gladly lay and pose for her.

After several minutes, I nearly fell asleep.  Relaxed in our quiet, peaceful library, the slight scratch of her charcoal over the paper lulled me into a trance.  I lost track of time in my half-asleep daze, only to be awoken by Emily's soft "Okay."  My eyes snapped open and looked towards her judging her finished work.

"Can I see?" I wondered.

She shifted and stood, clutching her sketch in a way so as to hide it from me.  She traced one finger up my neck and under my jaw, tilting my head back.  She leaned down to place a soft, sucking, wet kiss on the underside of my jaw.  I sighed and tilted my neck further back.  "The slope of your jaw is…"  She trailed off, losing herself in lavishing my neck with attention.

"Is what?" I asked breathlessly.

"Divine." 

I pushed her sketch book out of her hands – I could always look at her work later – and pulled her towards me.  She came willingly, settling on top of me once again to start this all again. 

_ _ _

Continue to next chapter

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

We Fell in Love in October, chapter 18 - October 18th: Kiss Cam

For @gaelic-symphony, my beta reader, and @bacchicly @dungeons-are-too-cold @snailsandpuppy-dogtails @jacquiebethelina44 @penelopeminded @okimargarvez @mydreampenelope and every other Garvez fan because this is THE Garvez chapter

Summary: The Gang goes to a hockey game

Chapter word count: 916

Total word count: 17,060

Can also be read here on Ao3

That Friday, Derek had tickets for them to all go to a hockey game. They weren't all massive fans of the sport, but they enjoyed it well enough, plus, they enjoyed spending time together the ten of them. 

The game was set to start in half an hour, so first: snacks. 

"Damn you, Luke Alvez," Penelope said teasingly. "You got the last soft pretzel."

"Uh, yeah, for you," he replied, holding it out for her. 

Penelope was taken aback. "W-what?"

"Yeah, I don't like soft pretzels, and I know they're your favorite, so I thought I'd get it for you. Besides, I got popcorn for myself."

"I could have bought the pretzel myself," she pointed it out.

"True, but maybe I wanted to treat you. Besides, I know you'd much rather spend your money on the Starbucks downstairs to get one of your fancy hot chocolates."

Her eyes went wide. "There's a Starbucks downstairs?"

"Yeah." He extended an arm to her. "Want me to show you the way?"

She looped her arm through his. "Please." She looked back at their friends. "We'll be right back."

JJ looked like she was going to explode. "If those two don't get their heads out of their asses soon I am going to shove their faces together and make them kiss."

Will rubbed comforting circles on his girlfriend's back. "Breathe, darlin', breathe. It'll happen."

"It fucking better."

"I'm with you, Jayje," Kristy told her. "They're driving me batshit crazy."

By the time they all made their way to their seats, they found Luke and Penelope were already there and seated next to each other, deep in conversation about something and seemingly oblivious to their approaching friends. "Ten empty seats and they sat together," Matt said. "And they expect us to believe they aren't stupid for each other."

"How much do you want to bet they'll say they only did it because they 'didn't want to block anyone else from getting in?'" Derek asked.

"I believe it," Spencer whispered back.

Tara looked at Emily. "They have to be close to getting together, right?"

"I fucking hope so."

No one had any idea how close they were indeed.

***

Partway through the game, the Kiss Cam came on. They'd all forgotten about that. Derek pulled Spencer close to him and kissed him. 

"The camera wasn't even on us!" Spencer exclaimed. 

"I know," Derek replied smugly.

Then the camera landed on Luke and Penelope. She went bright red as their friends started cheering for them, and Luke began stammering. "You don't have to kiss me, I understand, it's totally cool if–"

"Oh my god, Newbie, just shut up." Then she grabbed his face and kissed him, full on the mouth. Luke placed his hand on hers that was resting on his face and absolutely melted. When she pulled away, he had the most dazed and love-struck expression on his face any of them had ever seen. They all knew it wouldn't–couldn't–be too much longer before they were finally a couple.

*** 

After the game was over, Emily was walking past a supposedly empty hall when she heard Luke's voice. "Hey, I hope you didn't feel pressured or anything back there. You really didn't need to kiss me if you didn't want to." Emily knew she shouldn't, but she ducked behind a wall so she could listen in on their conversation.

"Oh, I know," she replied.

Luke's smirk was obvious in his voice. "So… you're saying you wanted to kiss me?"

Emily knew Penelope well enough to know her face would be bright red at that exact moment. "No…"

"Mhmm."

"Seriously, get over yourself," Penelope replied playfully, hoping to squash any remaining awkwardness. "That kiss was nothing."

"Well… if that's really how you feel, then fine, but it didn't feel like nothing to me. And for what's worth… I liked it. And I really like you."

Penelope stammered in shock. "You do?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Oh. I, um, I really like you too."

"So… could I maybe take you out to dinner sometime?"

"Um, yeah. You may."

"And… could I potentially kiss you again? For real, this time?"

Emily didn't hear a response, so she poked her head out of her hiding place and saw Penelope and Luke engaged in a sweet embrace. She snapped a picture and sent it to the group chat with the caption, It finally fucking happened!!!

Tara: HELL yes

Derek: In the Wise Words of Lizzo, it's about damn time!

JJ: Heads have been successfully removed from asses, I repeat, heads have been successfully removed from asses!

Emily watched as Penelope and Luke pulled away from each other, confused by the buzzing in their pockets.

Emily: Shit. Their phones were on vibrate. Gotta run.

Tara: Lol nice knowing you, babe 😂

Emily took off running and seconds later she could hear two distinct sets of footsteps following her.

"Emily Prentiss!" Penelope shrieked.

"I'm sorry!" Emily called back.

"No you're not!" Luke shouted up at her. He was correct. She was not sorry in the slightest.

***

Later that night, after about half an hour of squealing into her pillow, Penelope texted Luke.

Penelope: So… you wanted to take me to dinner?

Luke: I know I said dinner, but how about lunch? Tomorrow, maybe? If you don't have any plans.

Penelope: Sounds perfect. Can't wait ☺️

Luke: Me neither ❤️

That night, in different parts of the city, two teenagers fell asleep with the most giddy of lovesick grins plastered to their faces.

[glitxhwayventeen]

Lonely Together

Jihoon: Chapter 3 (Ain’t Easy)

Characters: Jihoon x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, genocide mentions, health issues, panic/anxiety attack. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: Sorry for how short this is. The vaccine’s really killing my body. My head his pounding from how bad my headache is so I only managed to finish the one chapter. Let’s hope tomorrow is better 🤞🏼

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀 & ☁️

Lonely Together Master List

Chapter 3: Ain’t Easy

You stirred awake, having been knocked out from your little outburst for almost a solid day apparently. You realized that you were now laying in Jihoon’s bed, it smelt like him. You could also see the sun beams make their way across the walls. Your apparent mate was sitting in a chair next to you, holding your small hand inside his. You fluttered your eyelids open completely, widening them hesitantly for the day.

“Oh good. You’re awake. I was getting really worried” He sighed, running his free hand through his hair and rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand fondly with the other.

“What- what happened?” You groggily asked, voice hoarse from the lack of use.

You sat up to sit upright and rubbed your eyes to awaken yourself more. You could tell you were in his room. You could smell him all over, that sweet honey smell was intoxicating to you. You could never get enough of it. You could also see you were in a bigger shirt still, though this one was different than the one you were wearing when you were awake before. It had 3/4 sleeves and was a soft cotton feeling that made you want to cuddle into your blankets and pillows to sleep again.

“Well after… everything, you go a little too overwhelmed and passed out.” Jihoon informed you, quickly pushing himself to sit on the bed next to you and rubbed your back sweetly.

You could also tell that you had been changed into a pair of sweatshorts, which you were grateful for. And given the conversation you had before you had probably passed out, there was a fairly good chance either Jihoon changed you or one of the other mates did. Though you highly doubted that Jihoon would let ANYONE else touch your naked body as your mate.

If he had known more about your love life and who you were attracted to, he may have been a little more open to someone other than him changing you. But for all he knew you were attracted to everyone in his pack. So he wasn’t about to risk it. He was a very private person and he figured from what he knew about you, you were too. Not that any of that even really mattered at this point, there was just as good a chance he would’ve refused to let anyone else touch you even if he had known about your sexuality. He could already feel his territorial wolf instincts for you getting stronger. And the more time he spent around you, the worse it got.

“Oh…” you trailed, still trying to come to terms with being suddenly so conscious after having been dreaming for such a long time.

“Does stuff like that happen often to you?” He questioned you, giving you a warm concerned smile.

He couldn’t lie, seeing you passed out made him beyond terrified. He had just confessed to you that he was your mate and then you blacked out. He was worried you’d reject him. But he was just as worried for your own health. You were small, even smaller than him, and you seemed really tired and weak all the time. What if this was something that happened to you a lot? What if he couldn’t help you get better? He didn’t like the idea of you being sick. He didn’t like the thought of having to see you unconscious from fainting. He didn’t like it at all.

“It used to happen a lot when I was younger, and only when I got scared or nervous. My tribe’s healer used to say that I was… missing part of me? Like part of my soul had been missing? Or something like that? I dont know, I don’t really remember. It was a long time ago. The passing out hasn’t happened much since I’ve been on my own though.” You told him, your head abruptly pounding at the mere mention of your health issues causing you to wince in slight pain.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon cautiously putting the back of his hand to your head, eyes full of panic.

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine. How- how long was I out?” You wondered aloud, turning your eyes to him to get a better look at him.

Truth be told, you were out for a while. Jihoon hadn’t left your bed for nearly three days now. And when he had to for bathroom or showering purposes, he had some of the mates sit with you until he could rush back. He was worried sick about you, Seungcheol had to have Soonyoung practically force feed him so he would eat. He could help it though, he knew that had it been any of his brothers with their mates, they’d have done the same thing. When your mate was sad or sick, you didn’t care about taking care of yourself. You only cared about them and their well being. It was just their natural instinct.

He hesitated for a minute before he spoke, trying his best to come up with words that might sooth you rather than worry you, “Well.. let’s just say You’ve missed a few meals…”

“How many’s a few?” You pushed him to give you a less vague answer.

“Wellllll… we just got done with lunch… so Nine in total give or take” Jihoon earnestly let out, bringing his hand to play with the small locks of your hair.

Upon hearing his answer, you nearly jumped out of the bed nearly three feet in the air. But thankfully, your mate had stopped you from moving your limbs so quickly. He didn’t want you to end up collapsing from the lack of muscle use you’ve had the past few days.

“Nine! Jesus why didn’t anyone try and get me up that’s like three whole days!?!” You almost started to hyperventilate again. Your sight was beginning to turn fuzzy. You felt your heartbeat fasten in your throat. Your mind was buzzing in thought, you couldn’t stop it.

The water on the bedside table started to shake and pull out of the glass while your state worsened. Jihoon quickly picked up on what was happening with you and grabbed you by your face gently to get you to focus on him. He didn’t want you to pass out again, but he also didn’t want you using your powers accidentally from the shock of the whole situation.

“Just breathe (Y/N) you’re gonna pass out again…” he rested his forehead on yours and continued to try and ease your heart rate and calm your anxiety.

“One in… Two out… Three in… Four out… Five in…. That’s it… Just like that.” He cooed at you, rubbing your temples lovingly before sitting you back up straight.

Your breathing finally evened out enough for your vision to return to normal. Once you felt your chest start to slow down, your brain started to cease in thought.

“You sure that doesn’t usually happen?” He joked, still clearly concerned and half serious about your current state.

You shook your head slowly from side to side in response. You were grateful he was there to comfort you, but you still had so many questions running through your head. Your thoughts were going a mile a minute again and you didn’t know what to tackle first or what was most pressing.

“…Jihoon?” You hesitantly spoke to grab his attention. He already loved the way you said his name, it was like listening to a symphony in his head and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Yes (Y/N)?” He responded while holding your small hand in his larger one, enjoying the way it fit in his perfectly. He looked at you with eyes of such love and adoration that you began to feel nervous.

“What are we gonna do?” You looked away from the dazzling man in front of you to instead down at the both of your hands that were laying in your lap. You began to fidget with the tips of his fingers to distract yourself so you could get the burn in your cheeks to die down.

“I- I don’t know. I never thought I’d get a mate, let alone have one show up bleeding at my doorstep. But now you’re… here…” he thought aloud, confusion masking his face the entire time.

He was glad he had found you, but he definitely never even once considered that the universe would bring you to him. He never thought of himself as someone’s boyfriend let alone someone’s mate. He wasn’t sure he would be very good at it, but he knew with you there he had to try. He just needed to figure out how to be one…

You took a moment to think. He was clearly just as lost as you were. But you knew what your heart felt for him, and you knew that being mates meant one of two things.

“Well… do you even want a mate Jihoon? From what everyone says, you don’t like being close to people. And I know I work better alone. So what do you want to do?” You anxiously awaited his response.

You could practically see the gears in his head turning. On one hand, he liked being independent and preferred his solitude. But on the other hand, he knew he would already die for you if he had to choose between himself or you. So, logically, that only left him with one alternative.

“I want us to be together (Y/N). I know it’ll be… a challenge, but I also know that as long as I have you, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.” He finally answered, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks that were still semi-swollen from your long rest.

Tears began to form in your tired eyes, “But… how do you know it’ll all work out? What if we can’t figure out how to cohabitate. We’re both so single alone, what if we can’t be a couple?” You whimpered, eyes full of fear as you looked into his caring ones.

“I won’t lie, it ain’t gonna be easy. But together, we’ll be okay.” He assured you, moving his gaze down to your lips.

He looked back at your face, silently asking for permission. You gave him a small smile and nodded, giving him the go ahead. With that, he leaned down to press his pillowy lips to your relatively chapped ones.

He moved softly, careful not to move too fast or too far so you would stay comfortable the entire time. Kissing him felt like you could actually walk on water if you tried. He made all your worries melt away with such a simple action. It made your heart flutter in a way it never had before.

He soon pulled away from you and leaned his forehead against yours, pecking the top of your button nose gently before a large smile formed on his perfect mouth.

“I suppose you could be right…” you trailed, teasing the small wolf slightly before breaking out in small fits of giggles while you tried to hold yourself back.

“You’re gonna have to get used to that you know.” He chuckled while caressing your jawline and gazing at you like you were a piece of artwork.

“Get used to what? Kissing?” You blushed at the thought, nuzzling your face into his warm hand to hide it.

“No- Me being right.” He declared, pushing his chest out with pride causing you to really burst out in full on laughter.

You could already feel the difficult times ahead of you both, but you also knew you would do whatever it took to stay with him. He made everything around you feel safe and at home. He’s all you ever needed.

(Updated 9/6)

[zambie-trashart]

I Don’t Own an IPhone: Wanna Trade? chapter 7

Masterlist

Previous: “Good luck Marinette,” Jon said smiling holding his arms out and she ran over to hug him.“You too,” she whispered. The deal was on, and oh how chaotic it was going to be.

(song used I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry)

Chapter 7: I Hear a Symphony

Jon wrung his wrists nervously standing in front of the apartment building. His text to Damian was left on read, no begging him to stay, no confirmation that they were even broken up. Jon reached into his pocket grabbing the folded piece of paper. He rung Adrien’s doorbell on the door number Marinette had told him and Adrien opened the door looking at him in shock.

“Oh, hey,” Adrien said hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey, um Marinette told me what happened, I’m really sorry about your loss,” Jon said blue eyes glazed over in sadness showing Adrien he was truly sorry.

“Uh thanks, Marinette and I actually broke up last night so now I have no one to go back to the house with, did you want to come with me?” Adrien offered and Jon nodded.

“I’ll be there for you,” Jon said smiling lightly. The two started their trek across the city glancing at each other every now and then going to say something but both figuring it would be better to walk in silence. When they arrived at the house or more like manor Jon smiled at the familiarity of feeling less than, it wasn’t a bad feeling in fact it was welcome considering how nice the Waynes were to him.

Adrien stopped as the gate opened, his father stood there welcoming him.

“Who is this, where is Marinette?” Gabriel asked confused.

“This is Jon, he’s a friend. Marinette and I actually broke up last night, things just weren’t working out,” Adrien said to his father who’s eyes softened.

“I’m sorry she wasn’t the one for you Adrien, you know I’ll accept whoever you love into the family with open arms my son,” Gabriel said holding his son’s shoulder in affection.

“Thank you father, I’m going to go show Jon to my room if that’s ok?” Adrien asked and his father nodded. Adrien took Jon’s hand dragging him up to his room the grand piano caught Jon’s eyes first. 

“You play?” Jon asked and Adrien nodded.

“Not for a while, I might be a bit rusty, my father always has me play on this day every year,” Adrien said walking over and sitting down at the piano lifting the lid hands hovering over the ivory keys. “Sorry, I just don’t know what to play,” Adrien said and Jon reached into his pocket again and handed him the paper.

“Don’t play until I tell you ok?” Jon said and Adrien nodded. Jon took a deep breath sitting atop the piano. He looked at Adrien who was studying the upcoming notes and smiled opening his mouth.

Gabriel had a good feeling about this boy Adrien had brought into his home, he seemed a lot like Adrien’s previous partner. He heard a laugh and nodded to Nathalie to come up to Adrien’s room with him listening in on their conversation. The boy had written a song for his son to play, just like Emilie used to do for him. Gabriel felt pain crawl into his heart along with pride, yes, this boy will do nicely. Nathalie looked at him expressing his inner emotion outward on her face, soft smile etching it’s way onto her soft features. A deep breath knocked him from his thoughts. The voice of an angel started singing and Gabriel closed his eyes ready to hear what he had to say.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. Now in its place is something new, I hear it when I look at you,” Jon sang softly nodding to Adrien who started playing heart beating fast. He didn’t want to mess up the masterpiece in front of him.

“With simple songs I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore. You are more beautiful by far, our flaws are who we really are,” Jon sang and Adrien felt his face turn red looking up at him. This was too much.

Gabriel looked at Nathalie who had her eyes closed just like his were previously. This boy had talent, this was the one he wanted for his son no matter what plan he had before with Lila it could be replaced, he would get his son out of here and carry out his plan as Hawkmoth without having to worry about his son being in the way and if the italian girl had a problem with it he could simply bring up her harassment record to the police. He heard his son laugh playing happy for what felt like the first time in a long time.

Jon walked around the piano and sat next to Adrien leaning his head against the taller blond’s shoulder.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. You took my broken melody, and now I hear a symphony. Woah, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” Jon sang eyes closing as Adrien took in his angelic voice belting out taking a deep breath after watching Adrien’s fingers move expertly across the keys.

“And now I hear a symphony,” Jon sang looking into Adrien’s eyes that stared back faces inching closer together, eyes flickering down to lips then back to eyes asking for permission that was quickly granted as the gap between them almost disappeared. A knock at the door broke them apart as Adrien said come in.

“That song was quite something, did you write it?” Gabriel asked.

“I had help with the piano part from a friend but I wrote the lyrics myself,” Jon said telling most of the truth, he did know music from Damian having him take violin lessons, he didn’t know piano though.

“It was extraordinary,” Gabriel said. “You simply must perform it tonight when the guests arrive,” Gabriel added and Jon flushed. “If you don’t want to sing then Adrien should at least play it.” Jon’s blush faded and he nodded in agreement. Gabriel had opened his doors to family and friends on his wife’s death day after Adrien told him it would be better spent with loved ones then suffering in silence which he reluctantly agreed. As much as Gabriel hated to admit it he would do anything for his son, he was his one weakness.

“Thank you Mr. Agreste,” Jon said smiling at the man who smiled back. Adrien was shocked, his father actually liked Jon and liked something he did, it was a miracle. Another knock at the door shook him out of his thoughts, Felix and his mother stood there politely waiting. Ever since the mix up years ago Felix had been doing his best to regain Adrien’s trust and had succeeded for the most part.

The five walked down to the table and Adrien saw Alya and Nino sitting there already, normally Marinette and her parents would join but it didn’t seem that the elder Dupain’s would be joining them this year, Chloe and her mother walked in as well Chloe took a seat next to Alya and Audrey took a seat near Nathalie. Felix eyed Jon carefully watching the raven haired boy move more than he probably should, first Felix tried to steal Ladybug from him and now Jon, he couldn’t have that.

Adrien grabbed Jon’s hand pulling him out of the room.

“Did something happen with you and your boyfriend?” Adrien asked and Jon tensed up. “Please tell me the truth,” Adrien added grabbing his other hand and Jon looked him in the eyes nodding.

“We broke up last night too, I realized things weren’t working out and there was someone else that peaked my interest, he’s a bit new to me but there was just something about him when I met him yesterday,” Jon said smiling slightly. 

“Could you please sing with me? You have the voice of an angel and I need you to be there,” Adrien said moving his hands to cup Jon’s face and the younger grabbed his wrists nodding.

“Just for you,” Jon said, moving in hugging Adrien tight.

The two moved back into the room Adrien taking his place at the piano and Jon sat beside him on the bench and in the moment it felt like the first time, just the two of them as the music flowed through the room.

“It sounds like something dear Emilie would have written Gabriel,” Amilie said wiping her eyes and for a moment Jon panicked. “He’s so precious,” Amilie added running up to Jon pulling the boy into a hug.

“Mother,” Felix said embarrassed.

“He just, he reminds me of her, down to the voice,” Amilie said smiling.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” Jon said nervously and Amilie looked panicked.

“No, no, it’s ok. I just miss my dear sister, you’ll be a wonderful addition to the family,” Amilie said making both Adrien and Jon blush.

“I’m… we’re not… uh,” Jon said and Adrien’s mouth was just gaping. 

“Could have fooled me,” Chloe said from her seat at the table with a shit eating grin. Of course Marinette told them about the break up and they were all in the corner for the ship to set sail. 

The dinner went smooth in Jon’s opinion so when Adrien took his hand and led him back to his room he knew what conversation was to come.

“Jon, since I saw you yesterday I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. You infected me Jon, it made me feel guilty because of Marinette still being in my life…” Adrien started.

“You fell in love with parts of her but not the whole, Chloe told me, and I have the parts of Marinette you liked but without the others,” Jon said sitting down next to the blond.

“It makes me sound like a dick, I’m sorry if you don’t like me anymore after hearing that, if you even did in the first place,” Adrien said looking down, he wasn’t trying to make Jon feel bad for him or trick him Jon noticed that right away, he was being genuine.

“You’re funny,” Jon said putting his hand on Adrien’s cheek leaning in and the blond closed his eyes as their lips finally touched. There were millions of thoughts running through their heads creating a simple verse hands roaming to hold each other close as Jon pulled himself into the blond’s lap the two falling back against the sheets puffs of air escaping them as lips disconnected. Jon rolled off of Adrien laying next to the blond chest to chest, heart to heart. The steady beating was speeding up as the gentle caress of melody whipped through the air lips meeting again.

The two laughed as they broke apart again. “Does this mean we’re together?” Adrien asked and Jon bit his lip nervously.

“I’d like that but could we talk more in the morning when I’m not all distracted?” Jon asked and Adrien nodded as Jon’s eyes closed. Adrien held him close smiling softly closing his eyes as well. It may have felt rushed but it felt right.

Taglist (open)  @jumpingjoy82 @liquid-luck-00 @megaafangirl @zorua-adorable @dreamykitty25 @pinkittwice @ghostdragonfang @ramos123 @redbullgivescaswings @jayjayspixiepop @sekhmet5 @blur-of-colours @roseisred  @nightlychaotic @ladybug-182 @novaloptr @prettylittlebutterflie @hammalammadamdam @niknak-3 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @chaoticstarworld @niknak-3 @nightlychaotic @lunalamant @lovleyautumnsunflower @just-a-random-girl-loves-anime @hammalammadamdam @alexizlazy​ 

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony - Chapter 4

New chapter! This chapter is slightly fluffy, still angsty, but much less than previous chapters.

Catch up here: Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1685

Chapter 4 - Forgotten

A little piece of paper with a picture drawn

Floats on down the street 'til the wind is gone

And the memory now is like the picture was then

When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again

It was Monday, and he was healed enough that Maeve let him go to school. After a normal morning routine, Lorcan made sure he wore a hoodie that would do a decent job covering his neck. Hood up, hands in his hoodie pocket, head down, he headed to school.

He missed a lot of schoolwork. It was going to be a late night. Luckily, most of the teachers gave him until the end of the week to turn it in.

When P.E. came around, he went straight to the gym rather than the locker room. He found his teacher and handed him his doctor's note. Mr. Brullo sent Lorcan to the library to study. Lorcan was happy about that. He was able to catch up on some of his homework.

Lorcan's handwriting, luckily, wasn't hindered by his cast. Perrington at least broke his right arm, his non-dominant arm. That he was thankful for, if he could be thankful for anything that happened to him.

He was getting a headache from his pre-calc homework. Lorcan rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.

"Lorcan?"

Lorcan grunted and slowly turned to see Elide, who looked relieved to see him. That was interesting. "Oh, uh, hi."

"Aren't you supposed to be in gym?" Lorcan lifted his casted arm. Elide's eyes widened and her lips parted. "Oh." She swallowed. Fuck, here comes the pity. "How-" she closed her mouth. "How'd that happen? We thought you were sick." Why were they concerned?

He told the same story Maeve told the doctor. Something about getting in a fight and falling down stairs, and "you should see the other guy". She didn't seem to believe him, neither did the doctor.

"Can I sit with you?" Lorcan shrugged. She sat down and then proceeded to talk to him about what he missed in creative writing. He didn't realize her voice was so soothing.

"Has anyone signed your cast yet?" She was eyeing the black cast. "I have a silver Sharpie!" She pulled it out of her bag and held it up with a smile.

Lorcan huffed a small laugh. Not being able to say no to that smile, knowing he was going to get in trouble, well, what could really do to him anyway? So, Lorcan carefully pushed up his hoodie sleeve. She smiled brightly at him. He propped his head up on his hand, eyes closed and listened to her hum as she put ink to the black cast.

++++

It was hard to keep from asking Lorcan questions. Elide saw the handprint bruise on his neck, the exhaustion lining his body, and of course, the full arm cast. She thought about how his injuries were formed. Obviously, someone put their hands on him, but who?

She didn't know who he lived with besides his aunt. It was doubtful that a woman had done this sort of damage, but one never knows for sure.

As she put pen to plaster, she kept looking up at his face between strokes of ink. He had drifted off to sleep. His face was slack, a slight snore every time he breathed out. Lorcan looked so innocent like that and dare she say, gorgeous.

Having finished her artwork, she just watched him until the bell rang. She gently brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, delicately tucking it behind his ear. He didn't stir.

Elide wished there was something she could do to get him away from his more than shitty situation. Calling the police was probably out of the question, but that was really the only thing she could think of.

The bell rang.

---

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt his textbook being pulled from under his elbow. "Oh, shit. Sorry," Lorcan furrowed his brow as he started cleaning up his stuff.

"You looked tired, I didn't want to wake you, but it is lunch time." Elide smiled, "and you have to look at your cast!" She seemed so excited about it.

Expecting some nonsense, he was pleasantly surprised to find a nice line drawing from his elbow to his wrist. It was a row of detailed trees with her name under it. Lorcan looked at it with awe. He looked back at Elide, "You did that?" Obviously, she did that. Don't be stupid, Lorcan, he thought to himself.

She giggled. He thought her laugh was adorable. "Obviously." Lorcan's cheeks flushed while he finished packing up before they walked together to lunch in a comfortable silence.

---

He followed Elide through the lunch line, the lunch lady gave him an extra serving. He was probably looking a little gaunt these days having barely eaten for the past week. Lorcan started towards the empty table in the corner.

Apparently, Elide wasn't having any of that as she pulled him to the group table before he could go be alone. Everyone seemed excited to see him. His name was shouted amongst several other greetings. Lorcan felt a tug in his chest as he looked around at the friendly faces. Why were they always trying to be nice to him? And then his eyes fell on the silver haired boy, he instantly forgot what he was thinking. He stared at the green eyed beauty a fraction longer than he should have as he sat down.

Elide introduced everyone. Aelin, Lysandra, Manon, Dorian, Chaol, Fenrys, Connall, Rowan - the silver haired boy - and then Vaughn, who was the last one to join the table.

He was sitting between Elide and Fenrys. Lorcan kept his head down while he ate, feeling very out of place. Everyone was chatting around him, over him, leaning around him. It was a lot. He wished he was alone at the table in the corner.

Rowan spoke up, "Can I sign your cast?" Lorcan jerked his head up. The sleeve of Lorcan's hoodie was still pushed up, he had forgotten to pull it back down which was unusual, but under the current circumstances, it made sense.

Lorcan's heart sped and he suddenly felt warmth spread up his neck. It drove him crazy how much his body reacted of its own accord around Rowan. He wished it would stop.

There was no reason to deny him when the punishment was coming now anyway since Elide's Sharpie touched the cast in the library, so he just shrugged and moved his arm towards the center of the table, towards Rowan.

"Elide, can I borrow your Sharpie?" She handed it over with a nod and went back to animatedly talking to the other girls about something.

Lorcan was careful not to press into the edge of the table, as he adjusted his arm. "I don't think mine will be as pretty as Elide's. Sorry in advance." Lorcan just shrugged a shoulder. He watched Rowan do his little doodle.

Then Rowan grabbed Lorcan's hand to carefully twist his arm to get to a different part of the cast easier causing electricity to shoot through his skin. His breath hitched. The soft fingers lingering on his skin, he never wanted the other boy's hand to move. Lorcan's eyes darted to Rowan's face to see if he noticed anything weird. All he saw was intense concentration, the way his tongue stuck out just a tad and his brows stitched together. Suddenly he was too warm, chest tight, heart pounding. Hellas below.

"There!" Rowan smiled at his silly nonsensical line doodle signed with his name. "All done." That smile did weird things to his stomach and the absence of those warm fingers made all the heat he had just been feeling disappear. A shiver ran down his spine.

Rowan capped the Sharpie and went to hand it back to Elide when Fenrys grabbed it.

"Can I?"

"Yeah." He was screwed anyway.

By the end of lunch, his cast was covered in names and doodles by his... Friends? They couldn't be friends, could they?

As he walked to his next class, he started panicking. His chest tightening for a whole other reason than being in close proximity to a certain boy. A tightness that was only reminiscent of growing anxiety. He shouldn't have let anyone sign it. What was he thinking?

Fuck.

++++

"Lorcan," Rowan breathed as he saw the dark haired boy basically being dragged by Elide to their table. Everyone perked up at that and welcomed him back.

Rowan saw his pained expression. Then, he saw the cast and the light purples, greens, and yellows on his neck that Lorcan was obviously trying to hide with the hood of his hoodie. It looked like a handprint. A fucking handprint. His gut roiled at the thought.

But then Lorcan looked at him, and oh boy, those eyes were going to be the end of him. They were an amazing onyx, almost like pools of night. His cheeks heated and he hoped no one noticed.

He finally got the courage to ask to sign his cast. And when Lorcan leaned over to get his arm closer to Rowan, he noted the stiffness and slight discomfort that flitted over his face. There was so much damage to Lorcan's body that they couldn't see. It made him unbearably sad thinking about it.

For the rest of lunch, while everyone signed Lorcan's cast, Rowan just sat there silently, observing the beautiful dark haired boy. He'd catch his eye every now and then give him a small smile, which was never returned. His eyes just quickly flitted away. Lorcan, he learned was very hard to read.

Rowan wished they could hang out, just the two of them. He wanted to get to know him and help him. And know what those lips felt like, tasted like. How it would feel to thread his fingers through his long dark hair that was usually in a messy bun. Or just to hold his hand. Fuck, he had it bad.

____

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

A Swallow's Symphony In Spring (10/19)

Chapter 10 - And will the Swallows Come Again?

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Warnings: Some people being assholes in general. Shitty arranged marriage talk.

Word Count: 2851

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Roman’s life was over.

This was it, the end, he was never going to survive this. 

And that’s how Virgil found him, buried under all of his pillows like he was trying to hide with a pile of handkerchiefs looking practically miserable. 

One of the pillows was lifted and Roman found himself met with the concerned face of his guard. Roman sniffed - he couldn’t think he looked any good right now, a pile of tears and red puffy eyes and all sorts.

“Is it really that bad?” Virgil asked, sitting down next to him and patting his back. “It’s just a gala - we already went to one and it was fine - surely this one can’t be this bad?”

“Oh but it is, Virgil,” Roman said with another sniffle, rubbing his face with the heel of his palm. “It’s so much worse than the winter gala.”

“Your acting is quite impressive,” Virgil said. “I couldn’t have guessed you were feeling this bad about it from how you reacted to the announcement.”

Roman huffed and buried his face in a pillow again. He’d been practising his acting skills all his life - of course he was good at them. At least he was good at them when he knew what his mother wanted from him, and in this case it was for him to be excited about the Spring Ball coming up (as excited as was proper to show, at least). Knowing he had fooled Virgil gave him hope that he had fooled his mother too. 

“What’s so awful about this one?” Virgil asked, still rubbing his back. The action was soothing as it always was - he found himself relaxing practically against his will. “Should I be worried?”

“It’s… Spring is the season when everyone wants to marry,” Roman said glumly, “And because it’s being hosted here it means everyone will be wanting to marry me.”

“...Ah,” Virgil said softly. “And… I suppose you don’t particularly want that, huh?”

“I’m never going to fall in love with any of those stuck up, snobby nobles,” Roman groaned. “I don’t want to marry for power like the Queen wants - I don’t want to marry because I have to - if I ever marry at all I want it to be for love-” He looked up at Virgil, takes a deep breath and considers for a moment admitting something he should never, ever admit. Eventually he just drops his head down on the pillow. “It’s going to be awful.”

“Well… I’ll be there, at least,” Virgil said. “I’ll be by your side the whole time - if you’re being approached by suitors all evening they’ll want me to be, right? For protection.”

“Mhm…”

“So just focus on me, okay?” Virgil said, giving him a soft smile. “I’m gonna hate it too just because it’s a crowd of people - so - I mean hey, maybe we’ll be able to escape off together at some point.”

Roman sighed. “Mhm, maybe…”

—-

Somehow, the ball was even worse than he had expected. 

The ballroom itself was decorated in soft pinks and greens, huge blooming bouquets of exotic spring flowers sat in elegant vases on each of the small tables set about the room for people to sit at. The room was shimmering just as Roman was, in his soft lilac and gold blazer, a white tulip in his pocket and his hair done up in tight braids and woven with fresh flowers. Apt, for the season, he supposed, though he preferred his outfit for the winter ball personally. 

About a dozen people had attended in hopes of seeking his hand in marriage. Princes and Princesses alike from other kingdoms, as well as nobles of the highest rank from their own kingdom. Roman expected that almost all of them were likely after his power, and the rest just wanted to be royalty. His parents had sat him between the two of them, with Virgil standing amongst his mother’s guards off to the side whilst each suitor approached them and presented him with a gift, each of them just as fake and expensive and useless as the last. 

“Roman,” The Queen hissed at him, halfway through the presentation. “At least look like you’re having a good time, these people have travelled a long way to see you.”

Roman straightened his back and put a smile on his face as yet another Prince offered up a jewellery set, huge blue gems and silver detailing. It was beautiful, but it would clash with his skin, look awful with his hair - he looked better in gold, he would never wear it - it was just an expensive, useless gift. Roman hated it, all of it, but he couldn’t show that with his mother right there, he just had to smile and thank the Prince whose name he had already forgotten. He just had to wait for the next person to come up and present yet another pointless gift. 

Roman must have sat through an hour of it, the pleasantries, the compliments, the introductions, the gifts, they were all the same, everyone wanted the same thing and Virgil wasn’t even here like he said he would be. It wasn’t his fault - Roman knew that it was under his parents' orders that Virgil was stuck with their other guards - but it still hurt not to have his guard (and best friend) beside him as he was forced to make stilted, painful conversations with royal after royal. From every angle he was being judged, his parents were breathing down his neck, everyone was talking and talking and the music was too loud. It wasn’t long before Roman desperately wanted to leave. 

It didn’t even feel a bit like freedom when he was allowed to leave his throne to mingle with the crowd. He was still required to interact with everyone who was presenting themselves as a suitor and Roman was already dreading it all as a noble girl came up to intercept him immediately, bringing him onto the dancefloor with a smile on her face. Roman gave a slightly desperate look back at Virgil, who was also freed from his post with the other guards but couldn’t follow him into the dancing. Virgil looked worried and upset, Roman hoped they’d be able to talk for some point. 

—-

“So, your highness…” Said the princess he was currently dancing with. Roman was required to spend time with every one of the people who had attended this ball to court him, this girl was no different. Though Roman had made it quite clear he was not interested in women, his mother still seemed to hope he would change his mind so that he would be able to produce an heir one day, “Sir Roman, are you listening to me?”

“Huh- oh! I mean, yes, of course,” he says with a polite nod. “My apologies… go on.”

The princess was talking about her kingdom, the powerful alliance that Hirundia would be gaining if he were to marry her, pretty much the same thing that every other royal suitor had promised him. Roman knew a new alliance with one of their neighbouring kingdoms would be beneficial to them - and he’d told each of the suitors who had said so just how much he would appreciate an alliance with their kingdom, for money or resources or political power, and he hated every word that came out of his mouth. 

Too many suitors wanted to dance, and by the time he had managed to find someone willing to stand or even sit and talk his whole body was aching terribly. His feet hurt now as he made his way around the ballroom but at least Virgil was finally able to join him, standing behind him like a shadow. Once, the looming might have creeped him out, but now Roman was just relieved that Virgil was ready and waiting in case something went south, in case he needed an out. 

Roman had got through a conversation with almost every suitor and a dance with everyone who wanted one and now there was only one left. He’d talked about his kingdom’s politics and his parents more than he would ever wish to, he had been forced into uncomfortable discussions about who he would choose to marry, but this was far, far worse.

“Of course, I’d like to be able to provide heirs to both my kingdom and yours,” Said the woman who sat with him. She had been pleasant while they danced, making small talk about the decorations and his clothes, but this…. “I’d like to think such a handsome Prince would be able to make suitable children?”

“I…” Roman faltered, stunned, “I am - I have barely come of age for marriage, I have not put in the time to think about children yet.”

“Ah, of course,” She said, eyes flicking behind him to Virgil. Roman didn’t look back, but he could assume that Virgil was frowning. It wasn’t an appropriate topic, at least Roman didn’t think so, not for their first time meeting at least, and Roman didn’t want to marry her anyway, “But if you were to think about it - couldn’t you see us raising such fine children?

“This conversation is inappropriate,” Roman said, hoping that that would get her to stop.

“Oh I know, I know,” she said, waving a gloved hand dismissively, “But really, what does it matter? It’s a simple question.”

“His highness told you this conversation topic was inappropriate,” Virgil cut in from behind him. It took all of his years of practice for Roman not to droop in relief.

“Who are you?” She scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“He is my personal guard,” Roman said, frowning at her, “If you continue with this conversation I will have you removed from the list of potential suitors, I do not want to discuss having children, especially not with someone I do not know.”

“But you could know me, what better way to start?”

“I could, but I no longer want to,” He said, standing up and turning, “Come, Wynter, we are leaving now.”

Virgil nodded and quickly turned to follow him, leaving the woman to watch with wide eyes as Roman turned his back to him.

“She was the last, right?” Virgil asked him quietly, barely even moving his lips - impressive. Roman gave a subtle nod in response. “Come - lets get a break.”

With yet another relieved sigh, Roman led the way out of the ballrooms and onto the balcony that led the way down to the gardens. Guests were out here too, enjoying the way the flowers were just beginning to bloom after the snow had melted away a few weeks ago. Roman enjoyed it too, though with his training starting back up he had not had much of a chance to enjoy it. The best thing about the gardens right now, though, was that they were less crowded and bright than the main ballroom, and far quieter too. In the dim light of dusk Roman could even hear the last of the daytime birds. A few people looked his way as they passed, but Roman thought the look on Virgil’s face may have deterred them. Roman was grateful for the fact that no-one approached him either way. 

“Come sit here,” Virgil said quietly, leading him to one of the rather hidden benches at the back of the gardens that Roman liked to frequent to draw or write when he had free time. Roman gladly sat down with Virgil, taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh air and letting it out slowly. Only then he realised that the floral smell in the ballroom had been so overwhelming, he practically slumped once they were sitting, finally out of view of everyone’s prying eyes. 

“Okay,” Virgil said quietly. “That was awful.”

Roman couldn’t help a little, tired chuckle. “I told you so.”

He received a gentle elbow to the side for that one, “I was trying to be optimistic,” Virgil huffed. “Though I’m not very good at it, I know.”

“You’re fine at it,” Roman said with a soft sigh. “You did make me feel better - but… really, this event is terrible every year - at least last year, the Queen was presenting me as a suitor to a Prince from a different kingdom.”

“The role of ‘suitor’ does seem somewhat preferable,” Virgil agreed, “I’m glad he didn’t end up marrying you, though.”

Roman hummed, leaning back a little on the bench. “Me too - I don’t think he was interested in men. As far as I know, he ended up marrying one of the noble girls there. He wasn’t very attractive anyway.”

A small chuckle escaped Virgil, “Oh really?”

“Mhm he was… blonde, and short,” he said. “I would much prefer someone taller than me, at the very least.”

Virgil nodded, “You’re quite short yourself,” he pointed out, “How short was this guy?”

“Oh - just a few inches shorter than me, and he had this sort of - his hair was quaffed,” Roman said. “It looked like a big lump on top of his head.”

With his hand, Virgil was now hiding giggles, shaking his head a little as he smiled. “No I - I wouldn’t think that sounded attractive at all,” he shook his head.

“No…” He said softly, sighing. He knew he had put a bit of a damper on that conversation - but he was finding it difficult to pretend to be happy with everything going on in his mind. 

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked, nudging him again. Roman looked up at him. He wished he could see himself getting married, but he knew that he could never be married to the person he really wanted to be married to. Maybe he wanted a wedding - not a royal one, something cosy and warm and sweet, with friends and people they both cared about, with dancing that was fun and games and no stuffy etiquette and ballrooms. 

“Have you… have you ever thought about getting married, Virgil?” He asked softly, looking up at him. Virgil’s eyes widened just a little, turning to look at him properly.

“I mean - I guess not? Not really - no-one’s ever really put pressure on me to do that kind of thing,” He shrugged, Roman sighed and looked down. “But - if I did, I’d want to get married to someone I loved - I mean, someone I wanted to share my life with.”

Roman sighed and nodded. “That’s - that’s what I want too - I want to marry someone I love, not someone who wants to marry me for my mother’s gold.”

“Yeah - all of those people you had to talk to felt like they wanted to take advantage of you for your wealth or your kingdom’s power and it’s just - I hate it so much. I’m sorry your mother is putting you through this.” Virgil sighed, fidgeting with his cape.

After a long while of silence, during which Roman avoided Virgil’s eyes. Because he knew who the person he’d want to marry if he could would be. “What sort of wedding do you think you would want? I mean - hypothetically, if you found someone you loved enough to marry?”

For a moment, Virgil didn’t say anything, looking thoughtful. “I think I’d like something small - I don’t want a huge party filled with people I don’t know, you know? Nothing like these parties - I’d want my family there - and my friends… I think I’d want to do it at home, or in Jay’s tavern, that would be cool - but yeah, something small and sweet - maybe with like - a dinner? Enough food for everyone but not anything excessive, and a party that’s actually fun afterwards - definitely a commoner wedding, nothing like what you would get done here if you got married.”

Making a face, Roman sighed, “I don’t think I’d want a wedding with all of the bells and whistles my parents would plan if I married one of those people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just… all of this is - it’s a lot, even just the balls. I wouldn’t want my parents there, that's for sure. Honestly, I think I’d prefer something like you’re describing.” Roman chuckles, looking down at his gloved hands, “I don’t want to have to wear these. I want to be able to hold my partner - actually kiss him during the ceremony, you know? I would want - I want to actually be in love and be loved in return.”

“I wish you could have all of that,” Virgil said softly, “I…. I wish I could give all of that to you.”

Roman tilted his head, looking at him, a small spark of hope flickered in his chest - what was Virgil saying? That couldn’t be right, it was impossible, Virgil didn’t like him that way. Roman shook his head, he was getting his hopes up for nothing.

“We should… we should head back.” Roman said, taking a deep breath to compose himself as he stood back up. “My parents will notice that I’m gone before too long.”

Virgil sighed, looking down. Roman wondered why he looked hurt.

“Right,” He said softly, standing up as well. “I’m with you.”

----

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[lyssismagical]

evermore

Just a Solid Vent Fic 

I wanna do 30 days of Taylor Swift-inspired fics (folklore and evermore) lmao but idk yet we’ll see lemme know tho 

 *

As a compromise for Tony not being able to pay Peter’s tuition to MIT thanks to his full ride, Tony bought an apartment right beside campus for Peter to live in, to ensure no awkward adventures trying to be Spider-Man with a roommate.

Peter’s still adamant about getting a job and paying for his food, phone bill, and any other things like clothing or entertainment.

And balancing classes, patrolling, and a job, isn’t easy, of course. But it’s always been better for him to work hard than to give himself time to think. It’s not like his mental health is on hold, but it’s easier to put it aside when he’s got so much to do all the time.

It doesn’t help that he’s also on the debate team thanks to MJ, and in the robotics club thanks to Ned.

When November rolls around and it brings the final projects, Peter pushes himself to the limit to keep up with everything.

He starts dropping his sleep to only a nap whenever he can squeeze it in, working all afternoon, classes all morning, and Spider-Man all night, and he starts making up excuses for anything that isn’t a number one priority.

He stops seeing his friends, stops calling May back, stops replying to Tony’s worried texts, stops helping out with his professors or the librarian or his classmates. He stops cleaning his apartment, letting dishes pile up on the counters and laundry go unwashed.

It’s bad, and he knows that, rationally and logically, he knows.

But that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

Three weeks, he tells himself.

And he keeps pushing.

MJ shows up at his apartment out of the blue when he’s studying away, and he barely manages to clear the fog in his head to stumble for the door.

“I can’t talk right now,” he says before she can even say hello. “I’ve gotta study for my physics exam.”

“No, you’ve gotta chill the fuck out.”

He shakes his head, leaving the door open as he turns his back and heads into his kitchen for a quick snack so he can get back to his work. “No, I have to study.”

“Oh my god, you live in a garbage dump,” she says, eyes going wide as she takes in the state of his apartment. “When was the last time you washed a dish? Or, gross, your hair?”

He doesn’t bother responding, rolling his eyes and downing a protein bar. “Two weeks, now, and then I’m done for a month.”

“At this rate, I don’t know if you’ll make it through the next two weeks.”

Peter can’t help but roll his eyes again, part of him hating how much he’s lashing out despite wanting help, needing help, but unable to find the strength to stop it from happening as he brushes past her again.

“I know you’re stressed, I know you’re anxious about exams and papers and labs, but, seriously, Peter?” she says, following him to where he’s working in the living room, papers and binders and textbooks strewn across every surface. “You’re a genius, okay? You’ve been getting excellent grades all year. The only reason you might not do well on these projects is because you’re working yourself to death.”

He shakes his head, feeling very suddenly like he might cry. “It’s not that easy. Just… I don’t want to deal with this right now, okay?”

MJ doesn’t take that as a good answer, though, sitting beside him on the old couch. “I know you, okay? I know you better than most people do. I’ve seen you in some of the worst states you’ve been in. I know this. You can’t pretend that this is okay or normal or that this is you doing fine. I don’t believe it for a second.”

He opens his mouth to fight back, to argue, to try to convince her otherwise, or maybe just to kick her out. But he hesitates.

After the Snap’s reversal, she was the one who devoted all her time to taking care of him. He was such a mess of PTSD and depression and emptiness, but she was there. She kept the lights on for him, she brought him food and water, held him after nightmares, talked him down from panic attacks every other day. She was there, despite everything, she was always there.

Tony was too far and he never wanted to bother May, so he regularly would drop by her fire escape where she would patch him up after patrols, and occasionally, let him sleep next to her and make sure to get him to school on time.

She’s always been there.

She’s held him together, kept him sane, helped him through it all.

It wouldn’t be fair to get pissed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, shoving a hand through his mess of greasy, tangled curls. “I’m such a mess, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m drowning.”

And she nods because she’s always understood, always known what he means. She puts her hand over his. “You deserve a nap. C’mon.”

He goes to shake his head, looking to where his lab is only half-done, he’s only a few chapters into the textbook to get prepared for his exam, rough notes scribbled out for a paper.

“No, c’mon. You’re taking a nice nap. You deserve it,” she repeats, tugging more insistently at his wrist.

But he shakes his head this time, pulling his hand away. “If I stop, I won’t be able to start again.”

“Peter-”

“I’m serious, if I take a nap or a break or take a second to breathe, I will crumble and I won’t be able to put myself back together in time for these due dates. I won’t get back up. I just-” He stops, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his wet eyes. “I need to keep pushing for the next two weeks and then I can fall apart.”

MJ shakes her head, fingers wrapping around his thin wrist. “That’s not healthy. And it certainly wouldn’t be right for me to let you do that.”

“I’ll fail my classes if I don’t do well on these assignments and exams. I need to keep going. I know it’s bad, but if I get into bed, I will fall into a slump and I won’t get anything done.”

Surprising both him and what seems like herself, she nods, holding onto him a little tighter like he’ll disappear before her very eyes. “Fine. But I’m going to stay here with you and make sure you don’t die over the next two weeks, alright? And you have to listen when I tell you to eat or watch stupid reality TV shows with me.”

He hums out an agreement, letting himself slump into her side, eyes focusing in on his mess of homework laid out before him.

“Come on. Step one, is getting you showered and in clean clothes because you smell like you spent the night in a dumpster.”

*

MJ does exactly as she promised she would. She calls it a ‘mental health sleepover’ and they set up camp in the living room.

She calls in sick for him at work for most of the week, telling them that he caught the flu and wouldn’t be back until after his exams, and even then, he’d already booked most of Winter Break off to go home to New York.

There wasn’t much she could do, in all honesty, it wasn’t like she could force him to sleep or take a break without a fight, but she could make him healthy meals and stop him from going out patrolling, which was enough to take a big load off his shoulders.

And she occasionally can convince him to watch those dumb reality TV shows, which occasionally makes him fall asleep on the couch for at least an hour or two.

It helps, of course, but it doesn’t solve any of the problems.

As soon as he’s finished exams, he’s going to drop, he’s going to fall, he’s going to drown, let the waves take him.

And nobody will be able to help him then.

“I booked your flight home,” MJ says over dinner and while he’s finishing up his lab report. “My flight’s a few hours after yours, so I’ll be with you until you board and then the Starks will pick you up.”

“Thanks. I really owe you one,” he says, only half-listening as he starts on his paper.

She grabs him by his shoulder and makes him turn to her laptop screen. “Say yes to the dress time. Your paper can wait a bit.”

“There’s only so much I can procrastinate,” he says but he’s already closing his laptop and tucking himself into her side, and shoulders finally relaxing.

She starts the episode, on a low volume, and presses a quick kiss to his temple.

By the time they’re onto the second episode, Peter’s slurring out his insults to the dresses some of the women pick, making fun of the different styles, and blinking getting longer and longer.

“That neckline?” Peter goes, giggling into MJ’s shoulder. “Especially with those shoes?”

“You’re a bitch.”

“I know, but seriously?” he laughs again, a little window into the person he once was. “I mean the first option wasn’t bad, but the choice of a grey dress in the first place…”

MJ’s voice goes all soft and gentle when she next speaks up, “Come on, go to sleep, you can afford to take a little break.”

And he nods sleepily against her shoulder, tucking himself just a little closer, making himself small against her side. It’s simple, for now.

*

As soon as he’s done his last exam, he can feel the adrenaline wearing off, disappearing from within him, all energy draining from his very veins.

He goes straight home afterwards, ignoring everybody who tries to stop him for a chat. And as soon as he makes it to his apartment, he goes straight to bed, tugging the sheets right over his head.

He shouldn’t do this, he knows. He should call MJ, ask that she drop everything for him again because he can feel himself slipping, but he won’t. He can’t. He doesn’t even know when the last time he saw his phone was, let alone have the effort to leave his blankets and try to find it. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He feels empty and exhausted and strung out. Carved hollow. Putting everything he has into the past few months, he feels like he has nothing left to give.

There’s a knock on his front door, but he doesn’t move.

A few minutes later, his phone rings, somewhere in another part of the apartment. It rings again and again, a symphony for him to pass out to.

*

Time passes strangely when he’s this deep in a depressive episode. He doesn’t know how long he’s been huddled under his blankets, hiding from the world. It could’ve been anywhere between a couple hours and a few days, he doesn’t know.

His phone continues ringing, far away and echoing through his dreams, tears sliding down his cheeks at random intervals, hands trembling where they’re tucked under his chest.

He feels like he’s drifting away, collapsing into himself, fading away into nothingness.

He feels empty, hollow, gone.

He gave everything he had into school and work over the course of four months, and he has nothing left to give anymore. He’s nothing more than an empty well.

And he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to pull himself together, pack, get a flight home, and pretend to be one hundred percent for Morgan.

He’d rather just die here, in this cave he’s built, ghost-like and fading away already, than have to face another soul.

*

When he hears his front door unlocking, he knows he should be worried. Nobody has a spare copy of his key except for Ned, who already went home to New York a few weeks back.

He knows it should be at least a little concerning that somebody is breaking into his apartment, but he can’t find it in him to care. He doesn’t have the energy to move or hide or try to protect himself.

He just curls up a little tighter and hopes that this won’t be his last day.

“Peter?”

He lifts his head, just enough to see over his cave of his blankets.

And standing in his bedroom doorway is Tony.

“Hi,” he breathes, curling up a little tighter, knowing he’s safe.

Tony slips into his room and sits at the end of his bed, one hand on Peter’s ankle. “MJ called when you wouldn’t answer your phone or let her in. She knew something was up.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I saw something like this coming after you finished your senior year and spent two weeks sick and depressed. I thought you’d be home in time before you started feeling so run down, but I guess I was wrong.”

Peter doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that, so instead he lets his head fall into the pillows again.

“I’m not going to make you do anything yet, I think you could use a bit more time here. Though, Morgan thought two days sleeping was plenty, I think another one might do you well. But tomorrow, we’re going to get you fed and showered and your apartment clean, and then this weekend, we’ll get a flight home. Sound good?”

He nods, though he’s pretty sure he would agree to pretty much anything so long as the decisions are taken out of his hands.

“Come here,” Tony murmurs, sliding into the space beside Peter, arms open. Peter finally feels at home when he crawls into the awaiting hug. “MJ mentioned Say Yes to the Dress bingeing, you feel up for making fun of more dress choices?”

Peter laughs half-heartedly against Tony’s chest, tucking himself into him like a child would, and nods, breathing in the soothing scent of motor oil and expensive cologne.

He knows he’ll fall apart again, he knows that it’s not going to be a permanent solution, but the time being, he has Tony’s arms around him, a reality TV show quietly keeping them company, and the relief of having time to feel miserable before he has to pick himself up, it’s enough for now. It’ll be enough.

He’ll be okay with people like Tony and MJ at his side.

He’ll be okay.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @fancyxparker  @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[dramaticsnakes]

The Revived - Chapter 17: An Old Friend

This is chapter 17 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo (briefly), Ranboo (briefly), George, Sapnap (briefly)

Word count: 3816

Cw: playful violence, overstepping boundaries, brief discussions of loneliness, tension between characters, food (technically)

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Silence lingered after Tubbo left. It loomed in the air as Wilbur stayed frozen in place. 

He quietly sighed as a familiar ghost wandered into his thoughts, “So the door closing was Tubbo leaving?”

Wilbur quietly muttered, “Yeah.”

“I think we- you should go talk to him.”

Wilbur threw his head back in annoyance. “It’s not that simple.”

Ghostbur sighed, “I know, but they always say trying is half the battle.” The words were quieter than the air around them. Wilbur slumped against the wall for a moment. 

“I think I should just leave.” Wilbur didn’t even think about the words, it was just a universal thought that hovered over his mind.

“You and Tubbo are a little rough right now, but Michael would still miss you.” 

Wilbur let out a dry laugh. Ranboo barely knew him and Michael was just asked to go away from him. He pushed himself away from the wall, “How about we go on a small walk then?” The tiredness in his voice was present. Ghostbur was either too kind to point it out or he simply didn’t notice. Wilbur couldn’t guess which was more likely.

“We’re gonna come back though right?” Wilbur recognized hope in the ghost’s voice, one that he didn’t want to crush.

So instead of the truth, he muttered out, “Yeah.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, more so a slight twist on the answer Ghostbur wanted. Besides, Ghostbur probably didn’t have the attention span to even think about coming back. Wilbur was glad Ghostbur couldn’t hear his thoughts.

He opened the door to Michael’s room and proceeded to walk down the stairs slowly. He noticed the lack of sound in the house, his quiet footsteps echoing slightly. The air felt tight in his chest as he looked around. 

He peaked around the stairs, seeing a distant room that Ranboo was in. His back was turned from Wilbur as two pale arms were wrapped around his torso. He quickly realized it was probably a hug being exchanged between the two. He felt an awkwardness that persisted in his mind any time he saw Ranboo and Tubbo interact. It made him realize just how much he desired the past. Even if it wasn’t as good as now, with all the fighting and arguing, it felt much better than this solitude that lingered around him.

Besides, the quickest way to form a connection with someone was through a shared enemy. He supposed he was the enemy for a lot of people.

He tore his eyes away from the scene as he walked to the front door of the house, closing the door silently behind him.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding once he was outside again. The cold was a nice refresher to the stale air that filled the house. He walked peacefully in the snow, not even noticing that he was walking to the nether portal before he was right in front of it. He stopped his actions when he realized, quickly thinking through the pros and cons of just leaving. 

Michael was too little to properly acknowledge who he was. Ranboo wasn’t fond of him. Tubbo couldn’t stand him.

It was all to be expected, and Wilbur had been a fool for letting comfort settle even for just a moment. One of the most important lessons from the wars, and the election, was that things were constantly moving along. Things had been moving along without Wilbur for a long time now, even if it wasn’t for as long as he’d originally anticipated. It occurred to him that he’d sought refuge with Tubbo far too many times since he was revived. A hint of a home that no longer existed. Tubbo had treated Wilbur decently ever since they had their first proper conversation. 

Wilbur, the fool he’d apparently become, had accepted every crumb of it like a starving dog. He’d relied on the friendly banter and the mansion with open doors. He’d relied on the voice of the kind ghost within his mind, that was forced to spend time with him anyhow. Wilbur had taken every bit of kindness from the people who merely tolerated him, and wasn’t that pathetic? That wasn’t what Wilbur Soot was supposed to stand for. He used to be so much stronger than that, holding the world in his own hands, and being the commander of a nation, rather than just a pathetic shell desperately seeking kindness and safety.

He stepped into the nether portal, the whisps of it filling his mind.

He wandered through the scalding heat absentmindedly, before the familiar voice of the ghost chimed in. “Wait, are you in the nether?”

Wilbur slowed down for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Oh…” Ghostbur said, his voice going much quieter, “You didn’t tell me.”

Wilbur inhaled sharply at the realization. He was moments away from cursing but stopped himself in time. He facepalmed and groaned at his own forgetfulness, “Shoot, I forgot.” 

There was hesitance in the air and no immediate response.

“Sorry,” Wilbur said, and he meant it. Promises meant nothing, but apparently, Wilbur couldn’t even hold up the simplest ones. The ones that it would cause nothing constructive to break.

“It’s okay- but…” Ghostbur trailed off slightly.

“Yeah?” Wilbur said, continuing across the bridge.

“Are we…” Ghostbur sounded like he was trying to find the right words, “Are we actually going back to Tubbo and Ranboo?”

Wilbur let out a breath. “I mean, yeah,” he said with a shrug. The truth was, he had little to no idea where exactly he was going, or where he was returning. Everything was a mess in his mind. 

“Then why are you going to the nether?” Ghostbur asked, “Oh, do you just really like walking?”

“Uhhh.” Wilbur rubbed the side of his head with a hand as if it would clear the fog in his mind, and allow him to speak words that made any sort of sense. “I just wanted to check on Friend?” he said, realizing it sounded far too much like a question, and was far too close to a lie, “I was gonna surprise you. But I don’t want you to be worried.” He let a smile slip across his lips on instinct, even if Ghostbur couldn’t see it.

The excited gasp from Ghostbur indicated that Wilbur had said the right thing. That was the most important part. Why exactly it ached in his chest, however, was unknown. “Oh yay! I love him so much.” Ghostbur said happily, sounding relieved, “You’re such a good friend. I don’t know why I didn’t trust you!”

Wilbur hid the grim darkness settling in his throat at those words with a breathless chuckle. “Y-yeah.” he simply said, as he continued walking towards the next portal.

Upon his arrival at the ruins of L’Manberg again, Wilbur realized the promise held little to no weight at all. The sheep wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and that shouldn’t have been surprising to him whatsoever. He gratingly remembered the way Tommy had stayed close to it, trying to drag it away from Wilbur, as the air around them grew more and more desperate. He remembered the fear in the boy’s eyes, and the memory sent a numbing strike of a blade through his stomach. For a moment, the pain on his face seemed almost entirely fresh again.

It was kind of funny too. How out of all the places on the server, one he’d found himself repeatedly returning to, was his own unfinished symphony. Perhaps the thought to finish it remained too loud in his mind.

But he had other priorities, ones that seemed to be fleeing him quickly. The ones that danced around his mind tauntingly. At first, he considered a new nation or even just a community that united under his rule. That required people he didn’t have. He tried to be part of a family or just making friends in general. That required people that he didn’t have. He wanted Ghostbur to still be able to experience life through him. That required people he didn’t fucking have.

As if he needed them. He spent thirteen and a half years in limbo. He could spend some time by himself solving his own problems. 

So he settled on an objective that no one else had, and he didn’t need much help to achieve. Getting Ghostbur out of his mind. He didn’t know if it was even possible, yet it felt nice to have a mission for once instead of wandering aimlessly and interacting with whoever he saw first. 

He laid out the bullet points in his mind. He wanted to start with the library, but Tubbo’s trust in him was already so thin. He thought about Dream, but the man was locked behind bars. He considered the thought of someone who knew Dream, which didn’t seem to have any immediate cons.

He ran through his mind of who knew Dream well. He roughly guessed anyone that was his ally knew him decently, but from there it was the question of who would tell him what they knew.

He decided to walk out of the crater of L’Manberg and closer to the town. The walk was quite nice as he occasionally described the view for Ghostbur. There wasn’t much detail, just the tree leaves gently swaying and how the shapes of shadows the buildings left looked.

“Are there clouds in the sky?”

Wilbur looked up for a moment, turning around slightly. “Not that I can see.” When he looked back down, he saw a person wearing a blue shirt in the distance. He tilted his head as he walked, turned on the path, and walked closer to them. It took him a while to identify them due to the sun in his eyes, but he eventually realized it was George. The George that was very close to Dream and presumably wasn’t on negative terms with Wilbur. The George that could be quite useful. He slipped a small smile onto his face as he jogged towards the man. He muttered towards Ghostbur, the smile showing in his voice, “Slight change of plans, Ghostie. We’re chatting with an old friend.”

Ghostbur gasped, “Oh which one?”

George heard Wilbur’s footsteps and turned towards the sound. A confused smile came across his face, but he did a small wave nonetheless. When Wilbur arrived where George was as he happily exclaimed, “George, it’s been forever!” He held a hand out and when George latched onto it, he pulled them both in for a quick hug. It burned so wonderfully, but Wilbur made himself pull away. “How have you been?” George still seemed shocked, “I- I’ve been good, but you’re alive!” He ran a hand through his hair, slightly messing it up along the way.

Wilbur grinned at him, “Yeah! I’m back and better than ever.”

“Wow, that’s really great. Glad to see you again,” he said, looking at him with a lot of disbelief, as if he was still processing the sight, but seemingly didn’t intend to question him too much about it. That was a nice change of pace. It wasn’t as if Wilbur understood either.

Wilbur nodded, “You as well. Where you heading?”

George shrugged, “Mostly just taking a walk. You?”

“Same.”

“You wanna catch up? Oh- you’ve gotta see the prank I’m pulling on Tommy.”

“I’ll come along and see it myself.” George started walking again, and Wilbur followed suit. George was on his side- literally and figuratively- all he had to do was to gently bring up Dream and propose a few questions. It didn’t seem too difficult. So he continued with George, the conversation flowing surprisingly easily between them. They ended up at Tommy’s house rather quickly. Perhaps Wilbur was having a pleasant conversation for once.

Tommy’s house was small and made of dirt, something that surprised Wilbur quite a bit. Small and underwhelming, even after so long, and Wilbur wondered why Tommy still lingered there. A strange, very small part of him almost hoped that the house would expand. Wilbur left too much of a remarkable impact for Tommy to reside in somewhere so small and meaningless.

George took off his backpack once they were there, carefully placing it on the floor. He pulled out two cartons of eggs. He snickered as he handed one carton to Wilbur and kept one for himself. He grinned at Wilbur, as he picked up one, throwing it at Tommy’s house with force, as it splattered on the dirt wall. 

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows with slight surprise as he opened the carton, picking out an egg from inside when he had a bad feeling in his chest. It almost stabbed him out of nowhere, a pang of strong guilt about an action he hadn’t even committed yet. 

Yet, what had Tommy done for him? 

The thought settled like his own grip on a gun that he knew he knew exactly how to use. A familiar lack of faith in those around him, because they knew Wilbur was a villain, just as he knew himself. Once everything went wrong they would inevitably turn against him. He knew as much. It had been proven to him time and time again. He clenched the egg for a moment, accidentally creating a small crack in its surface, as George was already halfway through his carton. He turned to Wilbur, a big grin on his face. “Come on! The guy’ll be furious, it’ll be hilarious.”

George looked at Wilbur for a long moment, the grin barely fading, but wavering just a little. Wilbur huffed, and threw the egg towards the house. It landed with a faint ‘crack’, splattering all over the bottom of the wall. A smirk lingered on Wilbur’s lips, as George laughed.

 Though the feeling in his chest stayed just the same, because what exactly was Wilbur trying to gain? He remembered the sting of Tommy’s eyes, glaring at him, as if Wilbur was everything that was wrong in the world.

We were like family.

A lot of good that did them.

He picked up another egg, and threw it at the house with a little more force, though as it cracked against the wall, he noticed his hand was shaking. George shouted over to him, “Yeah, like that!”

“What are you doing?” Ghostbur asked. Wilbur was thankful he couldn’t reply.

He held another egg, his gaze settling on George for a moment. He stared for a second too long as he soon released it. The throw coming off weaker than he intended. George’s voice was one parallel to an eye roll, “Oh, C’mon. The leader of L’Manberg can throw better than that.” George moved closer to Wilbur, standing right next to him. He raised his eyebrows, “Do I seriously need to teach you how to throw something?”

Wilbur scoffed, “Oh you wish.” On impulse, he threw the egg directly at George’s shirt. He felt that familiar guilt for a moment. The one that foreshadowed George leaving just like everyone else. But in the moment, everything was fine. 

George just chuckled as he dramatically complained, “My favorite shirt!” He took an egg from his carton and smashed it on Wilbur’s face.  Wilbur wiped off the egg yolk and cracked shell, starting to slowly approach George.

“Wilbur, no,” George’s laugh swirled in Wilbur’s mind. Wilbur quickly ran up to him, effectively tackling him as he was pinned. Wilbur didn’t hesitate to smash the egg in George’s face. 

George groaned, “Dream, why do you always have to do this?” He chuckled near the end as Wilbur’s grin dimed. 

“Dream?”

George stopped smiling instantly, a look of recoil coming across his face. “Sorry, sorry, I just saw the fingerless gloves for a moment. I…” George gently sighed, “Let’s just pretend it never happened.” Wilbur distantly nodded. Another person was only around him because of someone he was not. Wilbur tried to hide how hurt he felt instead grabbing another egg and gently handing it to George. The man with goggles nodded and threw the egg hard on the front wall.

It almost reminded Wilbur of simpler times. Where pranks were pulled in good fun, with mild anger following, soon to be forgotten. When grudges were minor and actions didn’t turn into blood feuds. Though there was something in the way George looked at the house, that made Wilbur feel that this wasn’t just done in good fun. Few things were anymore. That was one thing that had been different, even last time Wilbur was alive. “What are you standing around for?” George asked, “I’m colorblind and I can see several eggs left in your carton.”

George was looking at Wilbur as if it was a test. If there was anything Wilbur fucking hated it was being tested. It indicated that someone else had the upper hand, and was going to use it against him, if he didn’t live up to their expectations. Wilbur caught himself scowling for a moment, before smiling lightly. “Yeah, sure.” He said, “Though I actually had something I wanted to ask you.”

George threw his last egg, cracking it against the window with no hesitation. “Yeah? What is it?” he asked absentmindedly. 

Wilbur let out a sharp breath, clenching the carton in his hand. He liked the way it slowly broke under his command. “You know how I was… Revived?”

George raised an eyebrow, dropping the empty carton on the ground. He laughed, “Yeah? I’m looking at you right now.”

“Right,” Wilbur said, straightening his back, and cracking his neck, as he threw his cartoon towards the house, most of the eggs breaking on the ground. George watched confusedly. “And I suppose you are aware that Dream was the one who did it?”

George frowned, the look in his eyes changing abruptly. “He did?”

It was the look of someone who’d suffered a loss, and it was strange, to see that in regards to Dream. It was strange because the look was given because of a person everyone else seemed to have agreed to hate with little hesitation. “Yes,” Wilbur confirmed, stepping a bit closer. George stood his ground. “Are you sure you didn’t know?”

George shook his head and shrugged, “How should I know? The guy’s in jail.”

Wilbur knew enough about George, to recognize when he was on the defensive. He huffed. “Even if you didn’t know that, I was just wondering if you knew anything else?” He watched George take a step back, and it sparked something in Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur being in control. The powerful commander, who won back L’Manberg, and declared it independent. The one whose voice everyone listened to during the war meetings. “Dream was your friend, wasn’t he? If anyone knew about his ability to revive people beforehand, surely it’d be you?”

Hurt settled on George’s face. He shook his head. “I didn’t know anything.”

“Have you visited him yet?” Wilbur asked, barely acknowledging George’s words. Information. He needed information, and he would get it this time around. “I’m sure he misses you.”

That seemed to strike a nerve, as George’s eyes widened for a moment. He closed them and shook his head against the ground. “No,” he said, sounding far too much like someone who tried to sound like they didn’t care.

The realization that George was uncomfortable, hit Wilbur early on. It reminded him of the way Tommy scowled at him. The quiet dismissal of Wilbur’s questions.

Yet what did Wilbur care about exactly? 

He’d been desperately cowering for so long, seeking approval, and any crumb of tolerance of his presence. And George had tolerated him, even if some of it was just a moment of remembering someone he lost. It was funny how George, his old enemy, seemed to have any respect left for Wilbur.

Though it wasn’t respect. Not really. George was testing Wilbur, and Wilbur was going to test him back. Wilbur was no longer going to rely on those who tried to care about the new him. About the him, who had spent thirteen and a half years at a train station, yet hadn’t changed at all. They were expecting someone else, and that was fine. Perhaps Wilbur shouldn't have expected them to even care in the first place. It was too naïve of a goal and much too optimistic for his liking. It was almost similar to the blinded confidence he possessed in Pogtopia, allowing help to be given to him with nothing to be given in return, only to be unsurprisingly betrayed in the end. The cycle repeated until he betrayed himself. A tragic flaw, a dramatic end, an end to a life-long monologue- call it what it was, but he was alone.

In Pogtopia, Wilbur had realized he was alone too far in.

In the ruins of L’Manberg, by the house of his old right hand man, years and months later, Wilbur had gotten used to that feeling.

“Why don’t you let me know what happened while I was gone? Fill me in from another side of history! Because the wars don’t matter anymore, George. I just want to know what I missed.” Wilbur smirked, as he watched George shake just slightly. Wilbur stepped closer, George walking backwards towards Tommy’s house. “Surely that isn’t so hard?”

“I have nothing to do with him anymore, you understand? He’s in prison, and you’re alive.” George said, the words sounding sharp, “That’s all I know.”

“Come on, surely I’m not that untrustworthy?” Wilbur tried to make it sound like a joke, “Tell me, was it a relief when I was gone? Did it lift any weights off your shoulders? Off of Dream’s?” The comment was barely related, though it came out of Wilbur, as if it had been urging to for years. A little requiem from an enemy. Not that Wilbur had considered George much of an enemy back then, but perhaps to the other side it was different. 

He was surprised when George looked him straight in the eyes. While George looked so small as he stood there, and despite how his voice wavered, for a moment he almost looked confident. “I didn’t want you to die. You were a good guy,” George said. “I can tell you that much.”

Wilbur almost didn’t comprehend the words. His face twisting strangely, as he watched George standing right by the wall, caught up in a corner. The words made no sense at all, because that wasn’t how anyone was supposed to view him. Not someone from another side. It was almost laughable, that George knew so very little about Wilbur. Yet, for a brief moment, he was at a loss of words.

“What the fuck is happening?” a new voice chimed in.

Wilbur turned his head abruptly, surprised that anyone was around. He was met by the sight of Sapnap, looking at the scene with confusion and concern.

[mandalorewhore]

Mirroring

PART THREE OF MOMENTS IN-BETWEEN!!

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2.6k AO3 link

Content: light angst, themes of anxiety, fluff, bonding, found family, subtle dinmera :), din learns how to communicate with kids

Summary:  Soft moments between Din and Grogu that the audience does not get to see In-between episodes, scenes, and seasons.  

A/N: this one is lighter/sillier than previous chapters, also there will be multiple Sorgan chaps owo

***

The kid won’t stop following Din. 

He doesn’t get it at first. If he’s being honest, he unconsciously expected to put the child down and come back to the child sitting right where he left it. The realization is slightly embarrassing. Of course, a baby isn’t going to sit nicely without supervision... even an odd baby with strange powers and the highest bounty Din has ever seen.

The child isn’t dumb or animalistic; Din knows that his physical growth relative to mental growth must be far slower than other species, especially since the kid has toddler-like mannerisms yet possesses enough strength to lift a full-grown Mudhorn with his mind. 

Din tries to not think about that, it’s too confusing to consider while he juggles running for his life. The child's powers don’t lend him self-sufficiency, the kid still needs help with feeding, bathroom breaks, and keeping clean. Din is struck over and over again with the realization that this child will rely on him for, well, everything. 

Even after choosing to lose everything for the kid, the reality of his situation is overwhelming enough to cause him some anxiety. The child will continually look to him for nourishment, entertainment, and probably affection. Definitely affection. He’s already seeking that comfort with the way he looks at Din, face so full of trust that it is almost uncomfortable to witness. The kid mirrors the bounty hunter’s actions, playing with the switches on the Crest console and attempting to follow him wherever he goes. 

He stubbornly waddles in Din’s shadow even after they landed on Sorgan, making his way through the lush woods on tiny limbs. Din learns to slow his pace once the kid falls a little too far behind. 

This planet is lovely. It is such a shame that they can’t stay. Warm, late-summer light breaks through the forest canopy to speckle the forest floor as if the lightbox antics from the night before have manifested in reality. The kid is just as distracted by the real thing, chasing the sunbeams and occasionally wandering to the side of the beaten path in a manner that makes Din nervous. He feels like he could blink and the baby will be lost in the underbrush. Once they get back to the ship Din will sit him down and have a chat about that habit. Hopefully, the little one will understand well enough to stick closer to him on their next excursion. 

He pauses in the shadowy path, smiling when a small bump at his ankle tells him the kid is keeping pace. He looks down and meets the baby’s dark eyes, the emotion within them is feverishly excited. The child babbles and points into the trees, swirling his hands around with an animated flair to gesture at everything and nothing. Din guesses he is trying to describe the woods.

The bounty hunter crouches down and listens attentively to the kids ranting, his large dark eyes so emotive that the language barrier is all but eliminated. Both the baby and Mandalorian nod and look around with exaggerated motions, the child's excited attitude rubbing off on him. Din doesn’t want to interrupt the moment but he knows they need to keep going if they want to make it back to the ship before dark. They’re still being hunted. 

The bounty hunter straightens with a heavy breath, settling his hands on his hips. “Come on little one. It will be dark soon.” The baby clutches Din’s calf and keens, a high whining sound that plucks the man’s heartstrings. The poor child is having so much fun here. For the millionth time, Din wishes that they could stay on Sorgan. If the baby weren’t under his care then he would just take down the shock trooper and claim the planet for his hideout… Unfortunately, that would bring too much heat onto the pair. 

Din tries again to convince the baby, raising his voice an octave to sound more excited, hopefully, it will catch the kid’s attention. “I’ll give you a treat when we’re back. How’s that sound, huh?” 

It works, he thinks. The baby perks his ears up and lets out a curious coo, backing up from Din’s legs and looking down the path. Din smiles again then starts up his pace again, a little faster now that the sunshine has taken on a deeper hue. 

They make good time, traveling several miles before dusk falls and the forest lays in shadow. It is a bit eerie now, bird song and animal calls have all but disappeared with the daylight. The only sound now is the rustling of leaves, insect buzzing, and an occasional breeze howling through the trees. Din flicks on his night vision setting and walks faster, forgetting in his haste that he needs to make sure that the child is keeping up. 

Seconds later, a twig snaps and Din whips around, the sound is just too loud and heavy for the kid to make. There’s nothing behind him, no movement in the woods, no footprints or body-heat register, and the path is clear. Everything is fine- Wait. 

The path is completely clear.

The kid is nowhere to be seen. 

Panic floods Din’s body, intense, choking pressure crushing his limbs and chest with enough force to rip the air out of his lungs. The sensation is akin to being sucked into space, although Din would take that fate over the current fear that overwhelms him. Hunter’s instincts take over as his body moves automatically to search the trees, prowling the space around him while his mind watches numbly from afar. It’s odd, he feels like a specter observing from behind the veil, unable to control his actions. The trees blur together, choking panic becoming harder to ignore with every second that passes in his search. 

He finds his voice. “Kid!” It comes out all wrong and hollow as if it were the cry of a stranger instead of Din’s voice. “Kid, where are you!?”

He ducks down to the forest floor, laying on his stomach and looking through the thick overgrowth at the child's eye level. Din hopes that the lower perspective will help him figure out where to look next, searching desperately for any eye-catching areas that may have drawn the kid. Unfortunately, nothing is out of the ordinary. Not even a suspicious twig.

Din sighs shakily and rises to his knees, about to give up and start grid searching when something catches his eye causing him to flatten once more. There was a flash of body heat on his current visor setting, the reddish-orange mark alarmingly vibrant against the darkness that surrounds him. Whatever produces the heat is only a few feet away, snuffling around a felled tree for its next meal. The fuzzy form is too big to be the kid, and if it eats meat then it may pose danger to a child the size of Din’s foundling.

Din doesn’t think before he launches himself at the creature. 

It shrieks as he lands heavily by its side, his hands shooting out to snatch the animal, a rodent, and flip it over, praying that its species is inclined to being herbivores. His answer comes in the half-eaten bark that tumbles from the rodent's mouth as it lets out a shriek, its wide mouth lined with round teeth and eyes dilated in fear. Din lets the creature go, his stomach tight with fear for the child and guilt for scaring the creature. It skitters away to its den, unharmed. 

The Mandalorian deflates, leaning forward until the forehead of his helmet rests on the forest floor. There is an empty place shredding inside of him, a place that was quickly woven by having the child at his side. It falls apart just as quickly. 

Din should’ve found him by now, a baby that young can’t hide so well as to lose a seasoned hunter. He'll go back to the settlement and scout out potential kidnappers, running the Guilds database program and comparing faces until he recognizes the culprit. Before that, he should scan the area again, just in case. Maybe the baby crawled down a den with one of those rodents. Din screws his face up in despair, turning to settle his temple onto the dirt before opening his eyes and-

There, in the hollow of the felled trunk, are two staring black pupils twinkling at him from the dark. A giggle bubbles up from the kid’s mouth, soft white bark spraying in every direction as he laughs.

Din is fucking furious. 

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

    Children's laughter fills the air like a symphony, fitting perfectly against the background noise of bird song, tittering parents, and working krill farmers. Din’s foundling runs on short legs to keep up with the human children, jumping as best he can to swat at hovering butterflies that tease the excited crowd. He fits in perfectly here, the happiest Din has seen in the short time they’ve been together. He should leave him here once the Guild calms down in a few months. 

    Din flinches from inside his hut, the thought hurts too much to consider.

    That will be months from now anyway, he doesn’t need to think about it. The only thing he should be concerned about is scouting the woods with Dune later, searching for the raiders that plague this community. For now, he can peacefully sit in his temporary lodging and observe life on Sorgan. It is a gentle one and, try as he might bury it, Din appreciates gentle things. 

    “Ow! Hey, he hit me!” One of the village’s children stands clutching his arm, glaring at his female friend who glumly scrapes the ground with a shoeless foot. 

    “I did not! It was the new kid.” The accused girl shoots back, pointing fervently at the little, green foundling who is standing agape in the crowd. “He did it!”

    Din straightens at her accusation, annoyance rising from his chest to heat his cheeks. Does she think she’ll get away with the lie? He thinks hotly.

His kid- the kid is too short to even reach any of their shoulders, let alone hit them. How dare she accuse the baby. Adjusting his helmet, Din stalks out of the hut and approaches the children, ready to defend the child against all offending claims but the other adults reach the group first. He recognizes Omera and freezes when she shoots him a sharp look, her eyes speaking wordlessly. Don't make this worse.

    “What happened here?” She asks in a firm, clear tone, pulling the three children closer to her and crouching to their eye level. The baby is transfixed, his mouth still hanging open as he twists his ears curiously at the woman. “Use your words and take turns please.”

    The hurt child, named Kaigo if Din remembers correctly, huffs loud enough for Din to hear from where he stands 20 feet away. Kaigo raises his chin and looks down his nose at Omera before answering her. “Winta wanted to catch the butterfly first but I’m taller than her and gooder at catching bugs, so she hit me. The baby is too short to even hit me!”

    Din nods. Damn right he's too short. And the kid doesn’t hit.

    “Better, not gooder,” Omera gently corrects Kaigo, brushing away a strand of hair while tersely turning to Winta, her daughter. “Winta, is this true? I’ve taught you about using your words before actions.” Winta seems to be fascinated by the dirt ground, kicking her foot and refusing to meet her mother’s gaze. 

Omera tries again, “Winta, look at me please.”

    “Fine! I did hit him. But everyone is obsessed with the new baby and Mandalorian, and I wanted to catch a butterfly so that everyone will like me again!” The little girl chokes up at the end of her confession, falling into Omeras lap with her arms wrapped around her mother. The baby makes a distressed sound and places his little hands on Winta’s knee. 

    Din takes this as his cue to join them, long strides leading him across the clearing in mere seconds. The baby runs up and hugs his ankle when he spots the Mandalorian while Kaigo retreats to his friend group with wide eyes locked on the warrior. A hush falls over the children in his presence, as the setting sun behind Din lays his shadow over their huddled group. Everyone seemingly holds their breath. The loudest sound is Omera’s soothing hand patting Winta’s back. 

    Din leans into one leg feeling awkward, he doesn’t know how to address the little ones firmly without scaring them. After a few tense moments, he clears his throat and turns to Winta.

    “I like you Winta. You have been very kind to the child.” The words come out halting and none too graceful but he means it, Winta and Omera have gone out of their way to welcome the bounty hunter and child, bringing him food and playing with the baby with open arms. Omera lends him a gracious smile when he speaks, a lovely sight that sends warmth throughout Din’s chest. Her daughter peeks from her hiding spot in Omera’s elbow, teary eyes stubborn and flashing in the sun. 

    “You don’t mean it.” She shoots back, harshly drawing her eyebrows together on her young face before burrowing into her hiding spot once more. The widow sighs and stops her soothing pats, stretching her arms above her head wearily. Din’s eyes catch on the curve of her neck then dart away, busying himself with picking up the baby who has started up a babble at his feet. 

    “Mando is nice, Winta. He’s helping us get rid of the raiders which he wouldn’t do if he disliked you. Come on,” she pulls the little girl upright and turns her reluctant body to face Din. “He’s helping us, sweetheart.” 

One of the young boys interjects, from the gaggle of children. “Yeah! He’s a good guy!” 

    Din nods at the boy then tries copying Omera’s earlier actions by crouching to the height of the girl, extending one glove to Winta while the other keeps the baby held against his cuirass. “I promise. Shake on it. Bounty hunter shakes are very serious.”

    Petulant eyes meet his own through the visor and he sucks in a startled breath, taken aback by the perceptive look. Most people tend to miss his eyes, always just slightly off enough to leave Din feeling unseen. The physical barrier of beskar leans into an emotional one as well. He’s noticing now that the children don’t miss his eyes as often. 

Winta slowly reaches out and grips his finger, shaking up and down so seriously that Din wants to laugh. He holds it back knowing it would only hurt her feelings more, instead, he says, “there. your very first guild contract.” 

Omera laughs softly and stands, picking Winta up off her lap and spinning her onto her back, child limbs wrapping around her slim figure like a spider. “Winta is not allowed to hunt bounties, sorry.”

“Shame. She is very skilled. Especially when it comes to catching butterflies.” He tilts his helmet knowingly at the little girl, who grins proudly back at him before remembering that she is supposed to be upset. Din smiles at her stubbornness, holding the foundling out to her to try and appease the attitude. Winta smiles and hesitantly holds the baby’s hand while he babbles and wriggles his ears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, frowning slightly in a way that seems self-directed. “I shouldn’t have lied. I like you. And I’m sorry Kaigo!” She shouts the last part to her friend. The baby laughs and starts flapping his arms, looking between his friend and the butterflies that still flutter just above the villagers. Winta squeals in delight and takes him in her spindly arms, hugging him tightly as he continues to imitate the colorful creatures. 

It’s so silly that even Din laughs. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 XIV

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader speaks with the king.

Note: Okay. Tomorrow is an early morning and I dunno if I’ll be posting but hey, 14 days in a row is fine, right? Let’s not worry about that though. We have some royal intrigue ahead of us and I know we’re all impatient but we’re going to have to take our time as it all comes to a head.💋 😉 I know what y’all are really waiting for lol.

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

A week ago, you would've resented the king's surveillance. His insistence that you travel with a guard and only under his blessing. You were cloistered in his concern but you could not spurn it. For you were afraid. Truly.

That morning after you supped, you requested a walk of the palace corridors. Marge returned with the king's permission but the guard who stood vigilantly at your door was to accompany you. His sword always at the ready; both alarming and assuring.

The castle was airy as the winter descended upon the new year. You wore a thin cloak over your gown as you traversed the ancient halls. The guard's sword tinkled against his belt as Marge's shivers whispered in your ear. Your own breath mingled with the beating of your heart in an ominous symphony.

You neared the royal corridors along your aimless path and paused just before that which led to Eleanor's chambers. You looked to your escorts and crept a few feet nearer. You turned to look up at the tapestry beside her doors.

The rosettes stuck out from the field and gave lifelike bloom to the grasses. You tilted your head as you took in the expanse of cloth and thread. There it was; that twist of cloth which marked the last day you'd been yourself.

"My lady," Marge said softly. "Are you well?"

"Well enough," You answered as you leaned closer to the wall.

"Should we linger here?" She breathed as the guard gripped his pommel.

"Do you think the queen should emerge and slay me where I stand?" You asked dryly. 

Marge frowned and shook her head. You turned away from the fabric and retreated from the corridor. 

"Let us continue our walk. Perhaps I should see to my father when he is free of council." You mulled. "Or perhaps we shall return as we were."

Upon the next corner, you heard the noise of approaching footsteps. Your guard stepped before you and slowed. Shadows reflected in lantern light as the figures neared and emerged at the end of the corridor. Your guard relaxed and stood at alert as you bowed in greeting of the unexpected royal. 

King T'Challa did not pass though. He instead stopped to greet you, almost as if he knew you.

"Your highness," You said.

"My lady," He nodded to you and smiled. "Do you tarry alone?"

"Alone?" You looked to Marge who looked to the floor shyly. "I have my maid."

"But should you not be in attendance of your queen?" He asked.

"She has pardoned me from her court," You replied carefully. "So I attend to myself."

"Oh," He considered you as thoughts glimmered in his eyes. "Not many queens would tolerate a paramour in her court."

You averted your eyes in shame. 

"Do not think I judge you, my lady," He continued. "I am only curious. I hear things and they do intrigue me. They say you are devious and calculating, others allege you to be pious and humble. I suspect they are all true." 

"Your highness?" You looked to him.

"You are calculating in that you did heed the king's reputation, devious in that you would withhold any particular leaning to save your own, pious in that you worship your honour, and humble in that you cannot see what a mess you've created." He smiled proudly. "Do not think my words to be unkind, for without even knowing you, I do admire you."

"Admire?" You echoed. "For what?"

"For your resolve. For withstanding a storm that would tear many apart." He said. "My lady, would you be averse to me walking with you?"

"I would not refuse such an offer," You accepted evenly. 

"Even now, you maintain your courtesy," He remarked. "And you bide my bald words."

He turned so that he was shoulder to shoulder with you, Marge retreated to walk with the guards. The king awaited your first step and you hesitated before you took it.

"I suppose I cannot find where to disagree with them." You countered. 

"Mmm," He hummed thoughtfully. "I do wonder… after all I've heard of you and your snaring of the king. Why, my lady, I might offend you again but you are rather plain for a seductress."

"I am aware," You said stiffly. "Believe me when I say I am just as shocked as any at my circumstance and wholly unprepared."

"And what would prepare you? What should make a lady ready for a king?" He pondered. "Do you think you should be like Queen Eleanor?"

"She is strong. Bred to be a queen." You said. "She is better made for it than me."

"A queen who has sewn discord among her court and without." He looked to you as he spoke. "I am certain you have heard of my pre-standing relationship with the queen."

"I've heard as much as you have of me," You said.

"So you would. She's barely changed since I knew her. Colder, perhaps." He mused. "I thought I did love her until I realized she did not love me."

You lowered your brow as he let his eyes float ahead of him.

"We were betrothed. I'd lived among her family for years. We spent hours a day together and I was quite taken by her. As any boy would be. 

“But when I was recalled home and war loomed over us, I did swear to her I would appease my father so that we may still marry. So that we could one day rule over our kingdoms peacefully. Together."

He paused and let out a long breath. "She told me she could not wait to be my queen and I thought she meant it. The next I heard of her, she'd set sail for another prince."

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked. 

"Because I am certain you know how Eleanor can be. One moment she is your friend and the next, she's not." 

He stopped and turned to you as you struggled not to trip on your skirts. 

"Eleanor's spies learned of my visit the day before I reached the capital. She did try to have them keep me from my arrival. She failed." He shook his head as a wistful air came over him. "I do not trust your king either but he has yet to betray me as Eleanor did. In so much as I can fathom it, she has betrayed us both."

"And so what? You seek kinship with him? A shared loathing?"

"I intend to rescue my reputation which has so long been stained by Eleanor and what she has done to me." His jaw set as he held his shoulders high. "I seek to repay the queen in kind."

"And what would be my role in all this?" You asked.

"Your role is at has been. If you remain as you are, you might just get out of this alive." He looked to his guard and nodded. "My lady, I shall leave you to your path as mine would diverge here, thought I am certain they will meet again."

He bowed his head and you returned the courtesy. He smiled kindly and turned sharply on his heel. You watched him go. You were stuck in place as the thoughts flurried in your head. Those which hadn't ceased for days now. Though this king had added to the list. 

As he disappeared around the next corner, you wondered if he offered you advice or issued you a threat.

👑 

That night, you went to the king to sup. His invitation had been firm and without refusal. Since the servant boy's demise, he was ever more insistent. Ever more demanding. Often, you found his presence overbearing; at one moment, entirely inflamed in his anger and the next consumed by his affections.

When his doors were opened to you, you stepped within nervously. You still weren’t used to his chambers. The skin carpet before the heart, the large desk that loomed before the window, the twin tapestries along the east and west walls, and the grated candelabrum which hung from the ceiling. 

Hugh remained and the replacement for the royal taster. This one lanky and blond, almost fearful as he but into the food. You couldn't blame him for as you watched him, you saw the red-headed boy open your carpet. Though this one did not keel over.

You sat across from the king as he ate with one hand and in the other shuffled through sheets of parchment. His blue eyes were vigilant as if the letters would move should he look away. 

You watched him as you ate. He rubbed his eyes as he set aside a page and leaned back. The wrinkles left his brow as he looked to you.

"I am happy to see you eating, my lady," He said. "You seem not so wary."

“I remain cautious," You assured him. "As this court remains treacherous."

"Oh, but we should search out the snake that does hide in the branches and drain its venom before its fangs should sink too deep."

"May I ask…" You began and caught yourself. "I dare not."

"Well, you've begun so you may." He drank from his wine and picked at his plate.

"I do worry at the presence of the Wakandan king. Of what should precipitate such a spontaneous invitation."

"You should worry of the presence which remained without invitation," He took another bite and wiped his mouth. "Of one who wishes you harm. Perhaps even wishes it upon myself."

"Then…" You began tentatively and he tilted his head. "Would it be wiser to send me away until they are found out? Until these ill tides wash over?"

"Send you away?" He sat back so heavily his chair wobbled. "So that they may have you upon your own. May see you vulnerable and far away."

"I would not be alone. I would see my mother and sister." You argued. "They have a household, and security of their own. Edward does keep my sister well looked after."

"No, you are safe here. With me." He snarled. "You are safest close to me and I will not, cannot, be without you."

"Your highness," You reached to him and placed your hand on his. "I am afraid."

"I know, I know," He softened and turned his hand to grip yours. "But I shall see you safe, my lady. My love." He tugged until you rose and pulled you to stand before him. "For I fear for you too and that drives me to see that you are kept well."

"Your highness," You lowered your lashes, "I thank you for your care but ask that you do consider my request further."

"I shall consider it," His hand trailed along your bodice and he played with the braided belt at your waist. "But you will not leave me. Ever."

"And will you answer my first question?" You asked as he took your hand again and admired it.

"You are in need of rings," He commented. "Rubies. Maybe a sapphire."

"You elude me again." You accused.

"I do not elude, only delay…" He looked up at you, "Because I cannot help but admire you."

"Well, then I await an answer, your highness," You said.

"Sit," He drew you between his knees and sat back. "And I shall tell you then."

You looked at him. He grinned and watched you patiently. You turned and lowered yourself into his leg. Your skirts fanned put around you both. You found, as Rose advised, to appease him was easy and most times, convenient.

His hand hovered along your back and he beamed up at you. 

"You asked why the Wakandan king should be here. You are clever and you see beyond my courtly explanations. A good omen for your future." He preened.

"I saw the queen's reaction as did many others." You said. "I saw her discomfort, her unhappiness deeper than before."

"So you can guess that she knows the king." Steven led you. "And that he does threaten her current position."

"I see not how he could intimidate her," You baited as you blinked in a show of confusion. "She is a queen, he is a king. They are of separate kingdoms, ordained in their own right."

"Oh, you are young and, despite your wisdom, still naive," His hand spread over your hip and squeezed. "The queen does put herself in a perilous position so that she may be easily toppled.

"And she is aware of it so she fears any. King T'Challa, me, you. And behind her paranoia is guilt, though that has yet to come to light. Though I do peer into the dark."

"And what shall the people think?" You asked.

"What I tell them to think. What the truth tells them to think." His arm was full against you as his hand was tight along your side. "They want a queen who loves them. A queen who is kind. A queen who can give them hope… an heir."

"Eleanor is young still." You argued.

"She has been young for many years and she does not quicken. She would say I strayed far too much to see to an heir but I laid with her as much as any woman." His eyes bore into you as his other hand fluttered along your thigh."But this past year, she does not yield to me. She does not even try."

"And you've gone to her?"

"Not in some time but only for when I dared to visit she did bicker with me." He sighed. "I could have not begot and heir if I'd tried, she does hate me so."

"And you would try no further?" You prodded.

"She would not let me and there is not to try for. " He grieved. "An heir must be lawful or he may not sit the throne."

You held his eye then looked to your hands as they clung to each other. His hand closed on your skirts and he squeezed your thigh through the layers. You winced and raised your head. 

He was aflame as he leaned in. His arm snaked up your back as he grabbed your head and pressed his lips to yours. You pushed on his chest as he kissed you. He did not relent until you were out of breath. 

"Your highness," You breathed but stayed in his lap, too afraid to move.

"I… must have you." He purred.

"We cannot--"

His arms cradled you suddenly and he stood with you aloft. You clung to him to keep from slipping, dizzy from the sudden movement. He kissed you again as he walked blindly around his chair. You squirmed and he hummed onto your mouth.

When he parted, you gasped, your cheeks burned. "It would not be lawful. As you said…" 

"Hugh, you may leave us." He said.

"Your highness," You pleaded as Hugh started for the door. "Please. You would ruin us both. Have we not waited this long?" 

The king took you to the couch and laid you down beneath him as you struggled. He had you pinned, his hand around your chin. He snarled at you, his nose almost touched yours.

"We do not wait on your accord anymore, my lady," He rasped. "I am your king. Do you feel how easy it would be? How simply I could have you?"

"I do," You gulped as he crushed you under him. He forced his knee between yours as you shoved on his shoulders weakly. Hugh's footsteps continued. "I do. Would you? For one night? For if you do that's all it could be."

He smirked and rubbed his nose against yours. "Hugh, you may remain," He said as he removed himself from you. "Let you be witness to our shared abstinence."

His voice was dull and irritated. You pushed yourself up and drew your legs away from him as he sat back entirely. You felt almost hurt by his demeanour as his blue eyes stared at the carpet and he moped.

"Your highness," You said softly but he didn't respond. "Steven?"

His lashes flicked and he looked to you. The tension left his jaw and he nodded.

"I'm...sorry."

"I am, too," He said as he took your hand. "But you are right. This will be over soon and we cannot spoil it in a single evening."

[samgtt700]

The Will of Time

Chapter Seven

Previous chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Kamilah x MC

The outskirts of Alexandria proved a safe haven to the downtrodden, the escaping slaves and those who didn’t want to be found. Kamilah knew the house was abandoned, her memories of her past giving them a desperately needed hideout, this is where Gaius waited for her, allowing Kamilah to pack a bag, a bag she would carry with her full of personal possessions, ones she still treasured and protected at all costs. Her mortal life packed away, like her heart for so long before Alice. Kamilah wiped the tears that pricked her eyes, her emotions weren’t so easy to hold back anymore, the love of her life softening her but she would never admit it. Not to anyone, except Alice. Who already knew. On the outskirts of Alexandria her life was altered for the first of many times, this is where she said goodbye to her mortal life, to her brother, to her family. Kamilah turned to see her brother, struggling to hold onto his. She had said goodbye once, she wasn’t sure if she could do it a second time. But she didn’t want to condemn him to a life in darkness. Kamilah walked back over to Alice’s side after her small break, taking over from Lily who went downstairs.

Kamilah slowly grasped Alice’s hand between her own, gentle with her wife, having pulled out every arrow in the brutal attack her wife defended her past mortal self from. She wasn’t sure whether to envy or scold Alice for her bravery. But she knew there would be more fights to come, and Alice would be in the centre of it once more. And she would stand at her side without any hesitation, facing it all. Her breathing steady compared to the struggled her brother faced, Kamilah squeezed her eyes shut and kissed her wife’s hand. “I need you to be okay. I can’t live without you.” She whispered against her soft pale skin. Dorian showed no mercy towards Alice and Kamilah would do the same, give no quarter. She would kill him for even touching her wife. Her eyes flashing red for the briefest of moments as her blood boiled at the thought of everything Dorian had done in her absence. How he had destroyed so much of her home. She didn’t understand why he went back to ancient Egypt but knew it didn’t matter, he would only fail once more and this time, his failure would cost him his life.

Alice shifted, slowly blinking as she went to move when Kamilah squeezed her hand. “I’m here.” Kamilah kissed her hand. “I’ve got you.”

Alice opened her eyes as she sat up, seeing her wife. “Kamilah...” she barely moved when Kamilah hugged her, pulling her on to her lap. Wrapping her up tight, in her arms, in the safety they offered.

“I thought I lost you.” Kamilah let her tears stream freely down her cheeks, not concerned for appearances. It had been too long since she held her wife, and every moment since. This was all she dreamed of. Her hand cupping the back of Alice’s neck. “I was so worried.”

“I’m here.” Alice buried her head in Kamilah’s neck, “I’m okay.” breathing in her lavender scent, trying to hold back a grimace when it hurt to breath, her ribs aching. “I can’t believe your here. How did you find me, is this a dream?”

Kamilah whispered. “This is real. I’m here.” Cupping the back of Alice’s neck. Holding her wife, at last in her arms. After what felt like years, her heart pounding, terrified of losing Alice for the first time since the Opera house. “I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. I love you Alice, so much.”

“I love you too.” Alice whispered back, a symphony to Kamilah’s heart. Her hands scrunching up Kamilah’s jacket. Her tears soaking Kamilah’s shirt.

Kamilah kissed the top of Alice’s head. Gently stroking her hair. “I’m not leaving your side again, god forbid anyone who tries.”

Alice softly chuckled. “I belong here. With you.”

“What happened when you landed through the portal?” Kamilah pulled back, caressing Alice’s cheek. “How did you end up with my brother?”

“I landed near his camp. Glad you taught me some ancient Egyptian.” Alice admitted, a little nervous when she realised she might have to explain she made out with mortal Kamilah. “It was enough to get me a meeting with your cousin Cleopatra. Your cousin is different.”

“My cousin has a flair for the dramatic.” Kamilah rolled her eyes, a small chuckle escaping before she stopped herself. “Nothing has changed in the two thousand years since I last saw her.”

“She hosted a b-”

“It was the last time I saw my brother alive before he died.” Kamilah remembered well. “We both laughed at our cousins attempt to marry Lysimachus off to one of the nobles.”

“Nothing like that. Though you should know mortal and immortal you are still similar.”

“We are?” Kamilah scoffed. “It’s been so long and I’m an entirely different person now.” Kamilah pecked Alice’s cheek.

Alice shook her head. “Not the point but your both intense and stubborn.”

Kamilah squeezed Alice’s hand, “stubborn runs in the family.”

“I know. Could tell that from the minute I met your brother. Who flirted every second he could until he knew the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Your awake.” Lily stepped up ahead of Serafine. Kamilah sighing when she couldn’t continue to press Alice for answers about what the truth meant with Lysimachus, she felt like it would effect her somehow.

Kamilah and Alice pulled away from each other. “Hey.” Alice sheepishly smiled. Kamilah shifting to grasp her left hand.

“How you feeling?” Lily asked. Pressing a hand to Alice’s shoulder as Serafine stood a few feet back, arms crossed. Her gaze fixed on Alice’s wounds.

“Sore but alive.” Alice touched her abdomen, gritting her teeth in pain. “I just remember getting hit by an arrow, Dorian talking about himself.”

“What did Dorian say?” Serafine asked.

Alice rubbed her temple. “About how I would watch Kamilah turn to ash.”

“Hmm...” Serafine glanced at Lily worriedly. “We don’t know where he is.”

Alice struggled to breath. Gritting her teeth. “Did I break my ribs?”

“You were in bad shape Alice.” Lily glanced at Lysimachus. “Between Lysimachus and you. I’m amazed your both alive.”

Alice saw Lysimachus, laying on a bed of his own. Bloodied and bruised. Struggling to breath, his breath shallow. She could feel how his heart struggled to keep up, “does he have long?”

“We don’t know yet. He needs a hospital but we can’t do much but monitor him for any changes.” Serafine answered. “I’m sorry Kamilah. I know how hard this must be.”

“I’m doing okay.” Kamilah smiled, glancing back at Alice.

“What’s going to happen?” Alice asked, rubbing her temple. “We staying here? I want to go home. I miss my bed. No offence Kamilah but your beds suck here.”

“Nothing quite beats our bed at home, the comfort zone we’ve worn in.” Kamilah gently rubbed Alice’s lower back. Sighing slowly when she realised they couldn’t leave yet, they needed answers and a solution to the problem. “We’re not going anywhere until we’ve found Dorian and put an end to his schemes.”

“I don’t know where he is.” Alice rubbed her neck. Feeling a spider scratch at her mind. Unsure what to make of it but remembering the times Rheya tried to enter her mind and how it felt similar.

“Let’s leave you to get some rest.” Lily said.

Serafine agreed with a curt nod. “We’ll need you Alice at full strength to find Dorian and his followers.”

“His followers?”

“Gaius is helping-“

Alice interrupted. “Gaius is missing an arm. I cut it off.”

“Nice.” Lily squeezed Alice’s shoulder.

“He could sense I was a vampire and it confused him.” Alice shrugged.

“He hasn’t turned anyone yet.” Kamilah knew. She was the first person Gaius turned.

Adrian walked up alone. “We’ve spotted scouts on the horizon.”

“Do they know we’re here?” Kamilah asked.

Adrian shook his head. “I think for the moment Lysimachus and you should stay inside. It might buy us more time.”

“Sounds like a plan for the moment but we should make this place more defensible.” Katherine appeared beside him, offering some food. “We managed to get some fruit from a local market.”

“We need blood.” Adrian insisted. “Specifically. Alice needs blood. I doubt your wounds have healed by the way your grimacing every time you breath.”

“I hate to admit it but he’s right.” Alice sighed. “I need blood.”

“What if Alex and Adrian jump back to modern New York and bring back more blood?” Lily suggested.

“That will work. And in the meantime. The rest of us can prepare for whatever is coming. Dorian will know we’re here and it won’t take long for him to find us.” Kamilah suggested. She caressed Alice’s cheek before smiling. “Why don’t you get a bit more sleep in the meantime?”

“Okay.” Alice nodded. “Can you stay?”

Kamilah nodded. Everyone leaving them. Alice snuggling into Kamilah’s side as they laid together.

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Gaius stared at Cleopatra and Dorian as they discussed battle plans, glancing down at his missing arm, unable to fathom how he was so easily defeated. But not fearing the next encounter, wanting blood for what had been done, for the injustice he felt was given. “Whoever they were. One of them was a vampire. But she was not of Xenocrates or my blood. Whatever she is. She possessed abilities even I do not have.”

Dorian uncrossed his arms as he stepped over. Putting his hand on Gaius’s arm. Healing the wound. “She is of Rheya’s blood, far beyond anything you can imagine and not the last time you will face her.” He spoke calmly, not afraid of the young vampire, not concerned about her abilities. “She has been a vampire for little over a decade. You will defeat her next time because we will not be alone.”

“What is your means of defeating them?” Cleopatra asked. Staring at Dorian. “My cousins can raise an army against me if they desired. It’s why my parents organised the death of their father. He was plotting to take the throne of Egypt, and my mother was the reason why Kamilah and Lysimachus survived the attempted coup.”

“It does not matter. I will kill Kamilah. She will die at my hands!” Dorian slammed his hands into the table, his eyes narrowing at Gaius. “You will simply be a distraction. a means to an end.”

“To what?” Gaius stood, walking over.

“To Octavian.” Dorian straightened his clothes. Opening a portal behind him. “I suggest Cleopatra, you prepare for war.”

“Against who?” Cleopatra asked.

Dorian spoke calmly, they will simply be a distraction for When my men attack,. “Your cousins will not be an easy fight, we will need an army to defeat them.” 

Cleopatra glared, crossing her arms before approaching Dorian and poking his leather jacket. “Your men? You mean to tell me you’ve had more men but have failed to let them intervene? Pathe-” 

Dorian gripped her chin tight, squeezing. “We let Kamilah and her friends think I’m alone so when we attack. We will overwhelm them.”

Gaius growled. “Let her go. This was not part of Octavian’s agreement.”

Dorian released Cleopatra, letting her hit the ground in a flurry. “You don’t know what Octavian wants. You don’t even know what you want.”

Gaius glared before feeling a hand pressed against his chest, Cleopatra doing enough to stop him for the moment. “Not yet. We need him. Whether you agree or not.” Dorian departed through a portal. Leaving the duo alone. “I want you to kill him once he’s done his job.”

“Kill him?”“ Gaius scoffed. “Octavian wanted him alive.”

“And I want him dead. You would rather serve a general or a Queen?” Cleopatra asked. “I won’t make you bow before me, make you lesser than what you are.”

Gaius stepped away, rubbing his shaven jawline as he thought over Cleopatra’s words. “Octavian wants Egypt. I agreed to help him. He offered me a sanctuary.”

“Do you really think Octavian wants to offer a sanctuary to a man who is more powerful than him and could easily take his place. He is like his father.” Cleopatra didn’t mince words and did what she was known for. Bewitching men and she was tying Gaius around her little fingers, like she had done to Anthony and Caesar before him.

Gaius sighed. “What do you want of me? My Queen?” He turned, fangs bared, his eyes red as the blood in her veins, his nails scraping her skin as he could feel it pulsing, hot and fiery.

“I want you to make me your Queen.” Cleopatra didn’t hesitate for more power, to seize Egypt and the world. Gaius smiling wickedly before approaching, pushing some jewels aside from the veins coursing through her body, sinking his fangs into her and turning her into a vampire. 

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[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 10

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

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Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

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Stepping towards the surface, Odd Eye and Mina breathed a sigh of relief as they landed on an empty part of the island, hearing gunshots and explosions from afar. As part of their mission briefed earlier, Team B will storm the capital city of Mendes to topple the Imperial government.

The planet was part of the Galactic Republic, but had fallen in the hands of the Galactic Empire recently. Hocura harvested crystals that were worth millions of Galactic Credits, and they were instructed to take it back from Imperial hands.

Rubbing her belly, Odd Eye turned around and counted all her troops from the 666th Battalion, from ARC Trooper Tarot, Ouija, Yeri, and others that survived for the past six months. “All members of the 666th are accounted for, General,” she reported to Erina.

“Excellent, Commander,” Erina praised her.

“What about you, Mina?” Raul asked. “Is everyone present?”

“We’re all here, General,” she responded, looking at Bouncy, Nygma, and another Mina.

After the death of Commander Gowon, the ARC Trooper was promoted to a higher position, something many of her peers could only dream of. She was pleased with her new position as a commander, but a bigger role means bigger responsibility for her, and she found it challenging for the past 6 months.

Mina looked up to Odd Eye for guidance, and while the latter has been helpful, the former wished that she had more time to learn about leadership. She may have received training from Alpha-17, but Mina was used to being in the shadows alongside her late commander. I wish Commander Gowon is still here. Why does she have to go too soon? I have a lot to learn about responsibility.

“Alright, we’re heading to the jungle,” Erina instructed them. “So make sure you all stick together and keep your eyes sharp. You never know what you have to encounter down there.”

“Yes, sir,” Odd Eye bobbed her head in acknowledgment. “Come on guys, we have a city to take back.”

”Understood, commander,” Tarot said, as he gestured to his siblings to keep moving.

As the 666th and 197th Battalion marched together, Raul frantically searched through his backpack for something important, making Erina cross her arms. “Let me guess, you forgot your bug spray again?”

Raul gave a nod, smiling sheepishly. “You know me well, Eri.”

“Next time, please remember it,” she advised, passing him the bug spray. “You always forget every time we’re heading to another planet.”

“Alright then,” he resigned. “Also, did you remember to pack your prayer mat? You always forget to bring that whenever we’re on duty.”

Her smile faded as she paused in her tracks, slapping her forehead in shame. “Shit, why do I always forget to bring my prayer mat? That’s like the most important thing on my list. Now I have to pray five times a day with my blanket, again.”

“Don’t worry about it, Eri. At least you don’t have to worry about forgetting your binder like me.”

She raised her eyebrows at the dark-skinned man. “But you don’t need to bring your binders anymore. You already had chest surgery a long time ago.”

“Well, that was way before my chest surgery,” Raul told her. “Remember, I had to work at the diner all day long?”

“How could I forget that, Raul? You wouldn’t even dare to take a day off just to go out with me. Your boss was pretty strict with you.”

“Hey, at least I took you out on a date after the surgery.”

Erina let out a chuckle. “Of course we went out. You came out as a trans man and I wanted to celebrate at your favourite ice-cream shop. That was an important milestone in your life, you know.”

“Yeah, it was the best day of my life.”

As they continued with their conversation, Odd Eye could not help but smile underneath her helmet. Their conversation reminded her of Erhan, back when he was still alive and cheerful. They always have a deep conversation with each other that lasts the entire night, before they would fall asleep in each other’s arms when the sun rose from the horizon.

Her last memory of her lover was before they left an island planet. I can’t wait to start a family with you, Odd Eye recalled his words towards her, before watching him die in front of her. All it took was a tank shooting him from behind. As much as she told Tori that she moved on, she wished he was with her right now.

“Aren’t they cute?” Mina spoke, bringing her back to the present. “They’re both holding hands right now.”

“Yeah, they are,” she agreed, focusing on Erina and Raul. “Who do you think will propose first, though?”

“I think it would be General Gomez,” ARC Trooper Tarot speculated. “He’s quite the romantic one in the relationship.”

“Really?” Mina raised her eyebrows. “I always assumed it would be General Almarez-Guttierez. She’s pretty confident in everything she does.”

“My money goes to General Gomez as well,” ARC Trooper Bouncy joined in the fun. “He’s always sweet towards his partner. I mean, he even carried General Almarez-Guttierez to safety more than once.”

“Okay, guys, let’s just relax with this gossip, alright? We should let their relationship go with the flow.”

“Yes, commander,” Tarot groaned. “Though my readings tell me that there might be a union, eventually.”

Odd Eye rolled her eyes. Of course Tarot would say something like that. That’s how he got his name. He’s obsessed with tarot cards. She wondered why Erhan had to get him those cards in the first place, though some of his readings were accurate most of the time.

One time, he pulled out The Tower card, and the next thing she knows, the 666th Battalion lost half their men in the Battle of Zamerth. It was the most devastating loss she had experienced, and it wasn’t the last time the Grand Army of the Republic had to fold against the Separatists.

“Speaking of readings, what is the card of the day?” the pregnant commander asked, hoping today will be filled with good fortunes and luck.

“This morning, I got the Temperance card. From what I can tell, it means that you’ll have to keep your cool, even when things aren’t going your way.”

“I’m trying my best, Tarot. You know how hard it is to carry a baby while fighting a war?”

“I’m aware of that, commander. That’s why the Temperance card appeared in my reading today.”

It’s an accurate reading, she acknowledged with pure intention. She had to give credit to that. It’s difficult to predict the future with tarot cards, especially if you’re not familiar with it.

The purple jungle looked like something that was from a fairy tale, and the symphony of crickets in the background felt tranquil for her. The rain from the clouds made it better, as she could concentrate on her current surroundings.

If Odd Eye was given a chance to live somewhere, Hocura is her number one choice. She would never get bored with the scenery from her treehouse. Her son would love it here too. He could sleep to the sound of raindrops while Odd Eye would just sit beside him, reading her favourite book. It’s the life she always wanted after the war ended.

“So, how long till we reach Mendes?” Mina questioned Raul. “We’ve been walking for hours and my legs are killing me.”

Raul opened his map from his device and showed their current location to his commander. “Mendes is 20 kilometres from here. If we meet up halfway through the jungle with the 212th and the Coruscant Guard, we will get there in two days.”

“So are the 212th and the Corrie Guards still fighting on the other side?” Mina bit her lips. “It must be a pretty intense battle. I hope they’re okay.”

“Two days is pretty long and I’m not sure whether they can survive that long,” Odd Eye commented, tapping her feet on the ground. “Is it alright if we rest for at least 10 minutes? My feet also hurt and I might need a bathroom break right now.”

Erina exchanged a brief glance with her partner for a moment before approving both their requests. “Alright then, you all can have a 20 minutes break for yourselves. Then we’ll continue through the jungle.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tarot sighed in relief. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Raul winked. “Rest is good for your health and you all need it.”