#she really just made a whole pumpkin collection for herself and i love that for her

[myoduri]

spoopy pearl with her moonkins!!

[elentiyawhitethorn]

A Sneeze on Hallows’ Eve

CW: language

AN: This whole fic is my way of complaining about being sick on Halloween, then complaining some more about not having a Rowan to make me feel better lmao

Holiday Collection//2504 words

“Oh gods I’m so excited!” Aelin squealed. “It’s almost Halloween!”

Rowan chuckled. “That’s only the, what, eighth time I’ve been reminded? And that’s only today.”

Aelin sent him a look. “Halloween is tomorrow, Rowan,” she told in her most serious voice. “This is important.”

He nodded, trying to hide the smile pulling at his lips. “So I’ve heard.”

Aelin crossed her arms. “If you expect to be getting any within the next decade you will stop dampering my holiday cheer. Understand?”

Rowan grinned. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a salute.

Aelin not-so-playfully punched him in the arm. “You’re an ass.”

“And what a fine ass I am.”

A startled laugh escaped Aelin’s mouth. “I hate you.”

“So I’ve heard.” Rowan waggled his eyebrows.

Aelin snorted. “You just love to bully people, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. I get a real kick out of it.” Rowan’s smile turned soft. “I just love how much you adore the holidays. It’s cute.”

Aelin smiled. “I can’t help it. I don’t understand why all grownups don’t dress up and go trick-or-treating. Even the old grumpies like you should want to go. It’s free candy for fuck’s sake.”

“Did you just call me an old grumpy?” Rowan asked incredulously.

Aelin only tossed a saucy grin his way. She made to open her mouth and give him a comment about what an old man he was, and how prominent that four-year age difference was that she loved to tease him about, but instead a loud sneeze came out.

“You all good?”

Aelin smiled. “It’s just a sneeze, Rowan. Less a sign of my ill health and more an indication that you need to start dusting more frequently.”

Rowan scoffed and argued that he already cleaned most of the house and if she wanted the place dust-free, that was her responsibility. So began a jesting quarrel about who needed to pick up the slack, and the sneeze was forgotten entirely.

—

Aelin sleepily opened her eyes. She hummed as she felt a hand stroking her hair and gently turned her head to her husband.

“Good morning,” Rowan said with a soft smile on his lips.

Aelin smiled back and opened her mouth to reply… then her brain started functioning and she realized two things.

One, it was Halloween.

And two, something felt off. Really off.

Ignoring the second thing, Aelin sat up. “Happy Halloween!”

Rowan grinned. “We’re in for a busy day, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Aelin asked innocently. “The candy’s sitting on the counter. Our costumes are ready. The house has been decorated for weeks. What is there left to do until this evening?”

Rowan crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Don’t think I don’t know you, woman. It’s not a true holiday without a trip to the store because you couldn’t stop yourself from downing all the candy and a last-minute accessory emergency.”

Aelin winked, trying not to think about the weird chill to her skin. It was just excitement.

“This is going to be the best day ever.”

She got out of bed and dragged Rowan downstairs with her, pretending she didn’t have a feeling that the exact opposite was going to happen.

—

Their day was indeed busy. As predicted, Aelin got into the candy they were supposed to give to trick-or-treaters before they set out to have some fun of their own. Rowan was sent to the grocery store to buy some more.

And there was a dreadful feeling that their costumes just didn’t work right. Aelin drove down to the Halloween store and bought a different crown. The one she’d already had for herself didn’t match Rowan’s, and that just wouldn’t do. They were meant to be a queen and king, after all. Gods forbid they didn’t match.

Not too long after that, Aelin grew unsatisfied with the number of pumpkins on their front porch and grabbed another from the store, then carved it meticulously. That had been a bit time-consuming.

Then they’d fixed the cobwebs on the brick of their house, which had fallen down overnight. Aelin coughed so much during the process that Rowan sent her back inside, claiming she was going to catch a cold without a proper jacket on.

But Aelin was starting to realize she already had one.

Perhaps realize wasn’t the best word. Aelin kept sneezing and coughing and leaning against the walls for support, but through it all, she firmly denied such a thing in her own head. There was no way Aelin would be able to come to terms with being sick on Halloween.

And so the day went. Aelin insited that she absolutely needed to go for a walk down the street while it was still light out, so that she could see the autumn leaves. Rowan dutifully allowed himself to be pulled down the road. It was at that point that he started asking how she was feeling. He even tried to feel her forehead, but Aelin slapped his hand away.

“It’s Halloween, Rowan. I’m fine.”

Rowan hesitated, then smiled tightly, surely aware after being married to Aelin for three years and knowing her for two more before that there was no arguing with her.

—

Rowan was already dressed in his tunic and old-fashioned pants, crown and scepter, and cape. Aelin was in the bathroom fixing her makeup and Rowan was outside the door, making fun of her for the length of time it was taking to dress up. He even went as far as to say that back in the age of monarchy, nobody even showered.

Aelin tried to send him a scathing retort about the numerous monarchies still present in the world, but a wave of nausea hit her and she leaned over the sink, gripping the linoleum tightly.

A moment of silence passed as Aelin tried to push aside the dizziness, to no avail, and then Rowan spoke again. “You okay, babe?”

Aelin bit her lip. “Yeah, of course,” she rasped. “Just doing my hair.”

She was apparently not believable enough for Rowan’s liking. A soft knock sounded on the door, and when she didn’t reply, Aelin heard the knob creak.

“Ace,” Rowan sighed, coming to her side. His hand came to her face, brushing her hair aside gently. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m just dizzy,” Aelin insisted, sounding fake to her own ears. “Stood up too quickly.”

Rowan shook his head. “Baby—”

“No!” Aelin snapped. “We’re going to go stand at the door and give candy to children. Then we are going to go trick-or-treating. Come on.”

She spun around and made for the door, bending over and nearly falling to the ground as vertigo took over.

When Aelin’s vision cleared, she vaguely registered being in Rowan’s arms as he carried her up the stairs. She tried to struggle but a choked sob came out instead, and then she was crying.

Rowan set her down on the bed. “It’s okay, Aelin.”

“No it’s not!” Aelin sobbed. “I can’t be sick. I can’t.”

“You’re allowed to miss one Halloween.”

“No,” Aelin said, still crying.

Rowan wrapped Aelin in a hug. “Just breathe.”

“How can I?” She wailed. “This is important to me. I want to go have fun. I need to.” Aelin didn’t care that she sounded like a baby. Holidays were her special days. The moments she got to dress up and have fun, moments she cherished more than any little kid.

“I know, baby,” Rowan soothed. “I know. But you’re sick. You need to rest.”

Aelin shook her head, quieted slightly but still shaking.

“You haven’t been vomiting, right? Nothing that bad? It’s probably just a cold made worse by how hard you’ve been pushing yourself all day.”

“Which means I’m okay to go out,” Aelin insisted.

“Absolutely not.” Rowan scooted closer to her side as she tried to sit up. “You’re twenty-five, Aelin. This is far from your last Halloween.”

Aelin could feel herself reluctantly agreeing with him.

“I know how much this means to you, but there’s nothing either of us can about it at this point, other than try to make the most of it. Let me help you feel better.”

Aelin bit her lip to hold in a whimper. “Okay,” she whispered.

Rowan reached for Aelin’s hair. Tears of silent anguish started anew as he gently undid the braid she had pinned to her head. By the time he was done with that, a handful of bobby pins and several hair bands were stacked on the nightstand.

Then came Aelin’s outfit. Off came the Victorian dress and slightly slutty corset, and the cape and her shoes and everything else until Aelin was in her underwear. Before she could start shivering too badly, Rowan pulled a nightgown over her head and helped her into the flannel nightwear.

Several moments passed after Rowan murmured something unintelligible to Aelin’s pounding ears and left before he reappeared with a wipe and started cleaning the makeup from Aelin’s face. He took off her earrings and vanished once more with the dirty wipe and numerous jewelry items.

Aelin was still crying noiselessly when Rowan knelt beside her. She expected him to pull up the covers and tuck her in, but he scooped her up instead. She could only sniffle, both from the cold and from crying, as Rowan brought her down the stairs and set her on the couch.

“I’m going to go set the candy outside so no one rings the bell. Wait here.”

Aelin crossed her arms as she started shaking, feeling far too cold for their heated home. Soon enough, Rowan sauntered back in with a glass of what looked like juice, possibly grape, and an extra blanket.

He pulled the blanket over Aelin, then did the same with several other blankets already on the couch.

“Dink this, baby.” Rowan handed Aelin the glass of juice. “You need to stay hydrated. I’m going to go heat up some soup; I’ll be right back.”

Aelin shook her head and grabbed his wrist. “Rowan, I know how much you love to coddle me, even when I’m only minutely ill. But I think I just need to mope right now.”

Rowan put his hands on his hips. “And what kind of husband would I be if I let you do that?”

Aelin just sniffled.

Bending down, Rowan grabbed the remote and tossed it at Aelin. “Pick out your favorite Halloween movie. I’ll be back with the soup in a couple minutes.”

Aelin was holding back tears all over again, this time out of love for her husband, as she turned the TV on and went straight to Netflix. She immediately selected The Nightmare Before Christmas, then started obediently sipping her juice.

The microwave dinged in the other room, then Rowan rentered with a steaming bowl in his hands. He set it down on the coffee table, careful not to spill as he situated the cloth underneath it, there to avoid burning his hands.

“Let it sit while it cools,” he instructed.

Aelin cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sick, not mentally deteriorating. I know how soup works.”

Rowan smirked and sat down next to her, pulling the blankets over himself and snuggling next to her. “Come here,” he murmured.

Aelin moved in and wrapped her arms around his chest. She buried her head in his neck, smiling as he reached for the remote and started the movie.

—

Everything went well enough. The soup was good. The movie even better. Aelin only went through half a box of tissues, thoroughly grossing herself out every time she blowed her nose. Her throat started to feel sore partway through the movie, and Rowan left and grabbed her some medicine, despite her numerous protests that she was fine.

The credits started rolling through and Rowan flipped the TV off. “It’s off to bed with you, missy.”

Aelin pouted. “I’m not tired.”

“Liar.”

Aelin could only stick her tongue out at him as he unnecessarily picked her up again, the third time tonight, and carried her back to the bedroom.

Rowan was on his way out of the bedroom, finally, finally going to change out of his king costume and get himself ready for bed, when Aelin spoke up.

“I’m sorry.”

Rowan turned back around. “Whatever for?”

Aelin pulled the blankets up farther. “For making this a horrible night for you.”

A sad frown crossed Rowan’s face. “Love, this isn’t your fault. You can’t help when you catch something. We’ve both been through this before, many times. Remember when we were first dating and I had the flu? I vomited all over your favorite pair of shoes, which by the mercy of the gods were not on your feet at the time.”

Aelin shook her head slightly into the pillow as Rowan smiled and tried to make a joke out of it. “I didn’t mean having a cold. I meant this whole day. All of it. Things we were going to do, too. You don’t like dressing up, no matter how much you tell me otherwise. And you probably only want to go trick-or-treating when you’re taking out your kids, not your wife.”

Rowan came forward and knelt by her bedside. “Milady,” he began, and Aelin couldn’t help but crack a smile at his formal king speak and his cape swirling around his body. “Don’t thou think I could have changed earlier if I had such desired?”

Aelin laughed. “Stop that horrid accent at once, my liege.”

Rowan only bowed his head.

Giggling, Aelin scooted closer to the edge of the bed to smack him, then her brain caught up with what he said. “You what?”

Rowan grimaced. “Oh, I know I’ll be teased now. I’ve always been very carefully maintaining my cool. It’s a careful balance of upmost enthusiasm to spare your feelings and semi-reluctant behavior to attest for my suaveness.”

Aelin was torn between snorting and gaping. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I won’t lie. Five years ago I’d be laughing my ass off to see myself now. I never would have imagined being married to a woman who forces me to dress up on Halloween like a little kid. But honestly, this isn’t the worst costume you could have picked out.”

Aelin sat up in bed, sickness forgotten. “You have fun doing these things with me?”

Rowan smiled tenderly. “I love dressing up. I love decorating the house and watching cartoons and carving pumpkins. I love it all because I love you.”

Aelin’s lower lip wavered. “I love you so much.”

Rowan pressed a kiss to Aelin’s cheek. “And I adore you, milady.”

Aelin laughed faintly, her throat aching in protest. “That’s Your Majesty to you. Now go get ready for bed.”

Rowan winked and did as ordered.

Not a minute after Rowan left the room, Aelin heard a sneeze, followed by several expletives. She groaned into her hands, but smiled too as she imagined how they’d both likely be taking sick days tomorrow.

There would be plenty of time to watch another movie or two.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowaelinismyotp

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

[lxngbottom]

Mute | N.L.

in which the reader doesn’t talk, and neville tries to change that.

warnings: bullying, swearing, mentions of mental illness/anxiety, some angst (let me know if there are more!)

word count: 2,298

thank you for all of the love on my last two one shots!! it means so much ty ty okay now enjoy

—

“trauma, maybe? my dad’s friend who’s a muggle doctor said that trauma can completely change a person.”

there the three boys were again, sitting at the gryffindor table in the great hall, trying to understand the girl who would always sit ways away from everyone else.

“maybe she’s just really shy!” dean quickly replied, shooting down seamus’s suggestion. seamus shrugged, and took a large gulp of his morning pumpkin juice.

“no! longbottom is “shy”, but y/n? i haven’t heard her say one single thing since second year.”

neville listened in on his friend’s conversation, only letting his eyes leave them when he went to take quick glances at the girl of the hour.

y/n was to put it into simple terms... mute. it was very difficult to hear her utter a single vowel, let along a whole statement. everyone at hogwarts knew that she was not just quiet or shy, but completely silent. people wondered how one person could go without speaking for so long. she was a bit jittery, seemingly nervous all the time. if someone shot a single look at her and she noticed, she would look away without even giving the person a chance to smile or wave.

weirdly, she had always been this way. since the first day of first year, she kept to herself, not even attempting on taking the chance of getting to know someone who might become a life long friend. it really got under people’s skin when they asked her a question, and she just simply wouldn’t respond. so, this caused for students to completely avoid her. it seemed that it was a collective agreement among the school that no one should even try speaking to her. and that was because, again, they would never get a reply.

out of these students, neville longbottom seemed to be the most intrigued. he would never forget the first time he heard her speak. it was one day in third year, of course neville was clumsily making his way down the hallway. as he did so, he didn’t notice that y/n was walking straight for him. and of course, she didn’t notice him either until they both crashed into each other’s bodies. neville fell back onto the ground, letting a small huff escape from his lips. surrounding students cackled at the two as they continued walking. when he looked up, he saw the panic in her eyes and the way she quickly reached down to get her books.

“uh—merlin... sorry about that...” he stuttered, reaching down as well to help her. she glanced at him, but quickly looked away when he noticed. of course, she stayed silent. “are you alright?”

she nodded her head, and stood up with the books in her hand. “yeah. thanks.” and with that, she rushed away from him, not even giving him a chance to say one more word.

he would never forget it. the way her voice was so soft and fragile. he had honestly wished he could hear it more.

admittedly, neville felt bad for her. every time he looked at her, something nagged at him about the girl. every time she got called out in class to answer a question, he would panic for her as her face would drop.

she looked so lonely. she would sit in the back of the class always. he had seen her in the library quite often, just reading, sitting all alone at a table. he hated that she seemed so alone.

he wanted to change that.

—

the day was quiet. only the sounds of birds outside and the wind blowing through the trees on the castle grounds. saturdays were always the perfect days for going to the library, studying, or just to read a good book. that was y/n’s plans consisted of most of the time.

y/n made her way through the large halls, waving discreetly to the paintings on the wall. it seemed as if the lively pictures were the only people that ever respected her, told her hello as she walked by.

her fingers were tightly grasped around two books, as she was planning on returning both of them. her face didn’t show it, but she was quite excited to find two more books to add to her reading list. reading had always been considered an easy escape to y/n. pages filled with so many words, but told so many different stories. stories about love, heartbreak, dragons, princesses, noble wizards, y/n enjoyed all of it.

as she daydreamed about her next book, she hadn’t noticed the small group of students exchanging glances and laughing as they saw her approaching. before she knew it, her books were being slapped out of her hand, and hit the ground with a loud noise.

she looked up finally and saw draco malfoy standing right in front of her, hands in his pockets, chuckling with all of his friends from his choice of action against her.

“you gotta be quicker than that, mute!” he teased, and y/n bent down to grab the two books. when she stood up and met eyes with him again, he shook his head at her. “can’t think of a good comeback? or are you just too scared to say anything?”

she held the books tight to her chest, trembling from malfoy’s presence.

“thought so. see you around, mute.” he spat her way, but not forgetting to bump into her figure as he walked away, his friends following behind him.

y/n sighed, and turned around to make sure they were completely gone.

she started her journey once again, making her way to her sanctuary that people called the library.

when she arrived, she returned her books to madam prince silently, and this didn’t shock the librarian whatsoever. she was used to y/n coming in, checking out countless books, and checking them out and returning them muted.

as y/n skimmed the aisles, she came to the conclusion that she would once again read one of her favorite books. she had read it about seven times, but she could never get over how beautifully written it was. it was truly the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on, and she knew she would probably read it once more after this time around.

but when she went over the familiar bookshelf, the book in question wasn’t in the place it always was. she furrowed her eyes brows, and checked the rest of the shelves near just to make sure it hadn’t been misplaced. but of course, it was no where to be found.

malfoy had provided her with a sour experience already that day, and now she couldn’t even check out her favorite book? she already knew where this day was going, and she frowned in disappointment at the thought.

y/n had settled on some other fantasy novel that seemed to acquire to her taste. she checked it out, and made her way to the back of the library. she always went where it was secluded, almost no one else but her present. but little did she know, behind all the shelves she was walking by, someone followed her.

she finally found a small table to sit down at, and she did so with relief. it always made her so nervous to think that she might have to actually sit with other people one day. but luckily, that day wasn’t today. or so she thought.

because as a few minutes went by, and her eyes were glued to the book pages in front of her, she heard a chair being pushed. she looked up, and met eyes with neville longbottom. he shot her a small smile before speaking,

“can i sit here? it’s okay if not, everywhere else just feels a bit stuffy.”

she stared at his features for a moment, thinking back to the day when she bumped into him in the hallway. she gave him a single nod, and luckily, he didn’t miss it.

as he sat down in front of her, she gulped heavily. she hated being around others, even in a peaceful place such as a library.

a few minutes went by, the silence filling in the gap between the two. neville would glance at her a few times over his book, and she seemingly seemed lost in her own world. but at some point, she finally did look away from the words on the pages. she looked at the book he was “reading”, and noticed the familiar cover. if she hadn’t caught herself, she would’ve let out an audible gasp.

he had her book.

she seemed to be staring for too long, because neville looked at her.

“have you read this before?” he suddenly asked, snapping her back into reality. “it’s actually pretty good. i’m not big on fantasy, but this isn’t too bad.”

yeah, it’s an amazing book. she knew that very well.

but of course, she didn’t express that into words for neville. she only snapped her eyes back to her book, and neville frowned a bit.

did he say something wrong? he thought for sure that this was her favorite book. i mean, he had seen her with it more times than he could keep track of, so he could only assume.

“what’s that you’re reading? is it good?”

she looked up at him through hooded eyes, still not budging.

“well, anyways... i’m more of a herbology book lover. i love learning new things about plants. i think it’s really cool...”

y/n felt herself becoming confused, and almost bothered. she knew who neville was, but couldn’t understand why he was attempting to spark a conversation with her.

“i noticed that you like to read,” he mentioned, and y/n finally looked at him fully. “i mean—i see you here a lot, and you’re always reading from what i can tell. what’s your favorite genre?”

as neville attempted to get the girl to speak, he closed his book without looking. he realized that was a mistake when the heavy book closed onto his finger, and he let out a loud yelp.

as much as y/n tried, she couldn’t hold in the small giggle that fell from her lips. she covered her mouth in an attempt to hide it, but neville’s ears caught it.

“oh, you think my suffering is funny, huh?” neville joked, smiling out of triumph. she hadn’t spoke, but she laughed. and neville swore it was the most angelic thing he had ever heard.

she shook her head at his question, her cheeks turning a dark red from embarrassment. she had hoped he was okay, but nonetheless, it was funny.

the whole time they were in the library, neville rambled on about random things. he had brought up his interests in plants, making sure not to over explain his love for them. he talked about books, and random things that had happened to him and his friends during his time at hogwarts. he was making it his number one goal to get her to talk at least once.

but as darkness began to fall, and as curfew approached quicker and quicker by the minute, he hadn’t succeeded. he was quite shy at the fact that he had just sat in the library all day rambling to someone who never even spoke back. she had seemed to be listening, which took him by surprise. he had never had someone to listen to him as he spoke, let along not interrupt him in a conversation.

as much as she hated to admit it, y/n had a good time herself. she loved the way neville talked, how he explained things so deeply and with so much detail. he never seemed to miss a beat in a conversation, even if it was practically with himself. it made her realize that she wish she had the strength to speak. she wished she could respond to his questions without feeling her stomach churning.

the two left the library, their bags draped over their shoulders as they walked. y/n still had two books clutched into her hand, as she has checked out a random herbology book before leaving. neville smiled when she did so, feeling giddy inside that he had managed to spark an interest in her.

“that book is really good! it’s all about water plants! which are really cool, by the way. you should read up on gillyweed! it’s this really cool plant that—“ when he went to ramble on once more, he stopped himself. “never mind. i think i’ve talked a bit too much, today. wouldn’t you agree?”

for some reason, y/n wanted him to keep talking. it filled the silence that she considered her serenity, and she enjoyed every last word he spoke.

“well... i think this is where we part ways. do you need me to walk you back?” he asked, secretly hoping that she would say yes. but, she shook her head no. he was greatly dissatisfied, but, he tried his best to understand.

“oh, okay. well... goodnight, y/n. maybe we can hang out in the library some other time.”

he smiled at her, not expecting a word, but only catching a glimpse at the red that rose to the tips of her ears.

neville began to walk away, feeling a bit defeated.

suddenly, something that neville never wouldn’t expected:

“goodnight.”

he stopped in his place, and turned around. she covered her mouth with her books, but neville could tell that she was smiling. he couldn’t believe that the word had left her mouth.

“goodnight, y/n.” he repeated, and she shot him a smile before walking in the other direction. a genuine smile. the first one he had ever seen besides from her giggling.

he wanted to hear that voice, and those giggles more than she could ever have guessed.

[sapphiccrypt]

The Names You Call Me

Oh boy- I don’t have an Ao3 account so I guess I’m putting this here.

Ship: Wanda x Agatha (MCU) AU: Soulmate AU Word Count: 2578 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha had been around for a while- of course she had. She was a witch from all the way back in the time of the Salem Witch Trials. However, in the roughly estimated 350 years she’d been alive (she’d lost count around the first World War), she hadn’t figured out who her soulmate was. Everyone had one, or at least, everyone was supposed to. Every little nickname or term of endearment your soulmate called you was supposed to be inked somewhere on your skin. However, she herself had been a blank canvas for centuries. It’s not like she minded, she was always more focused on acquiring more magical knowledge.

However, this didn’t stop the witch from giving little nicknames to everyone. It had become a habit over time. Was it so that she’d finally find her supposed soulmate one day? Or perhaps it was just to prove to herself that said soulmate didn’t exist and would never exist. Either way, this habit hadn’t shown any positive results, at least, that’s what she thought. 

It was one of her habits that carried over into the nosy neighbor persona she had become forced to play. 

------ 

Wanda’s parents always told them about soulmates, how those little names that appeared on your skin were supposed to be so meaningful and lovely. Oh how she wished that was the case. Of course, life always seemed to want to throw a curveball at her. 

She was in her cabin in the vast wilderness when she had decided to shower. As she stepped out, her hair was intricately braided with magic. She had decided to check said braid in the mirror when she noticed something that made her heart sink. 

Written in small lettering along her lower back were different words. Wanda knew what this meant, of course she did. Everyone was told about soulmates. There were so many rom coms and tv shows about it. Hell- in the show she’d weaved together from the town of Westview, she’d finally been able to make Vision and herself soulmates. However, the few nicknames the deceased synthezoid had called her in the past weren’t written there.

Instead, there were ones like “buttercup,” “hon,” and “toots,” among a few others. In the back of her mind, she knew where those nicknames came from- who those nicknames came from. She stared at the writing for a while. Why her of all people? The one that betrayed her and tried to take her magic? Why couldn’t it have been Vision, or anyone else for that matter? Why did it have to be Agatha?

The mirror shatters.

------ 

Agatha didn’t know how long she was trapped in the lonely and painstakingly quiet void of own mind. Mere minutes could feel like years just for the next hour to pass like milliseconds. Feeling and watching herself do and say things, think things, without it really being her was a fate worse than death. No matter how hard she would scream, no one could hear her there.

Agnes, meanwhile, was brewing herself a morning cup of coffee. She had always been a coffee person, for as long as she could remember, just like she had always been living in the quiet town of Westview. Of course, she found her hobbies. Along with being the neighborhood gossip, she would tend to her garden and watch fun movies. It was a simple life, and she liked it, despite the part of herself buried deep within the far corners of her mind that told her this wasn’t what she should be doing.

As the housewife was pouring her coffee into one of her many ornate mugs, a knock at the door echoed above the noise of the television and her own humming. She almost spilled her coffee but set the pot aside on the counter. “I’ll be there in just a moment!” Agnes called as she speed-walked over to the door and opened it to see her former neighbor. 

“Wanda! What a pleasant surprise,” Agnes began with the same neighborly smile she always put on. The one that seemed so permanent that her cheeks would often hurt after a while. “And here I thought you had forgotten about little ol’ Agnes,” she teased, stepping out of the doorway so the other could enter. “Please, come on in.”

Wanda would nod, smiling calmly over at the other. “It’s nice to see you again, Agnes,” she’d comment as she looked around the neatly decorated house. The whole place had a sickeningly sweet atmosphere, as to be expected of the role she had put upon the other. She sat down on the couch Agnes guided her over to, looking over at the sitcom playing on the television. She had been meaning to watch that one.

“Would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea, something a little more...adult?” Agnes asked with a mischievous smirk as she moved into the kitchen. “Take your pic, pumpkin.”

She looked down as the other called her a new nickname, knowing it was probably added to the list of words that were written on her back. “Tea is fine, thanks,” the Sokovian woman commented, quietly resting her hands in her lap as she prepared for what was to come. Hopefully the runes she’d placed on the house and Agatha herself would stop her from attacking or playing with her mind again.

Agnes rambled on about life in Westview and tidbits of gossip she’d picked up on since the other had left the small New Jersey town. Soon enough, the shrill noise of the teapot pierced the air and she prepared the other’s drink, walking in with both mugs after reheating her own coffee. 

Wanda talked with Agnes for a few minutes, thanking her for the tea and sipping it as they chatted and watched the television program. When the other set her mug down on the coffee table, the younger witch moved a glowing red hand to the other’s temple, bringing back the witch that she had previously locked away. 

Agatha’s eyes widened and she gasped as all her senses came back to her and she was in her own mind again. She looked over at Wanda, stumbling away from the other on the couch some before her gaze narrowed. “What do you want?” She asked. She knew deep down she couldn’t really do much besides listen to the other, as she couldn’t feel the usual buzz of magic underneath her skin.

“Well it’s nice to see you too, Agatha.” Wanda said, still keeping a calm demeanor about her as she looked over at the other. “I had to come by and see how my nosy neighbor was doing.”

The older of the two grumbled as she got up, blue eyes gazing at the other and desperately trying to figure out her motives. “You and I both know that isn’t the reason, Red.” Agatha commented. At least she was herself again, although being powerless like this was still worse than death, in her opinion.

Wanda sighed. What was with this woman and all her nicknames? She was sure her back was soon to be covered in words. “I just want to talk,” she paused, considering her next words. “Ags.” She noticed the hint of some marking on the other’s left arm, although it was mainly covered by her sleeve.

Agatha looked a bit surprised at the nickname before glaring once more. “What do you want to talk about.” She muttered, sitting down at a chair adjacent to the other. She didn’t really want to talk, but she didn’t quite want to be Agnes again either.

“Well- I have two things. First, a sort of proposal of sorts,” Wanda replied. “You said I would need you, so this is a time to make yourself needed. Teach me the secrets of the Darkhold, I know you know it well.” Some of the spells in the book were quite confusing, and at times the book itself seemed like it didn’t want to be read, and surely giving this incentive would give her the insight she needed on the book.

“The second...” she began again, “....is this,” Wanda said as red magic rolled up the left sleeve of the other’s shirt, causing Agatha to tense some. “Take a look for yourself.”

The brunette’s gaze settled on her arm, eyes widening as she read out the small, 3 letter nickname the other had just called her. She opened her mouth to speak for a moment before promptly closing it right afterwards. She was silent for what seemed like eternity before she let out a low chuckle.

“You must be covered then, huh, dearie?”

------ 

Months passed as the two resided in Wanda’s cabin. The Scarlet Witch’s training was going alright- save for a few clearings in the forest that definitely weren’t there before. Overtime, arguments and harsh words turned to cheeky and sarcastic remarks. Neither of them brought up the soulmate thing too much, as if the situation was a creature one would be advised not to poke with a stick. This didn’t stop Agatha from coming up with new nicknames just to add to the collection and tick off Wanda, however. Meanwhile her own arm was mostly bare save for a few names she was called when the other wanted to try at the game that the older witch was playing. 

It was late morning, Wanda was usually the first to wake up, whether it was from her just being an early riser or nightmares she got frequently was up for debate. She prepared a small meal, just some bacon and eggs, making her some tea. Agatha often made her own coffee, through normal or magical needs.

She had decided after a couple weeks to let Agatha use her magic, as trust had grown between the two and it was easier for the magic lessons to have someone who could actually use magic. Agatha hadn’t attacked or anything, she seemed to know it wouldn’t end well. Plus, through the passing months, both women were beginning to take a liking to one another, whether they wanted to admit it or not. 

Agatha came down from her room a few minutes after Wanda had sat down for breakfast, pushing messy brunette hair out of her face so her vision wasn’t obscured. She grabbed a mug, magically making herself some coffee before getting a portion of breakfast and sitting down across from Wanda at the small wooden dining table.

“Good morning.” Wanda commented with a soft smile. Although part of herself hated to say it, she really enjoyed Agatha’s company. She had grown to enjoy the little nicknames, the teasing remarks, the way her laugh made her feel like her heart was made of butterflies. Disregard that last part.

Agatha nodded, sipping her coffee. “Morning.” She said, taking a few bites of breakfast that the other had prepared. “This is good, buttercup.” She smirked some at the other before sipping her coffee. “Ready for today’s practice?” 

Wanda looked up from her cup of tea and over at who had become her mentor. “Of course.” She responded. Her control over her magic had been getting better, and she’d been learning all sorts of spells and runes from the other witch.

After breakfast, the two women got changed and went out into the forest, into one of the clearings that had been there before the two had started using the area for magic practices. This spot was quite peaceful, and the two spent many hours reading through the Darkhold, along with other books of magic that Agatha had acquired over the centuries of her life.

Practice went as normal, going over a few new runes and such, like one Agatha had used to block out her mind from the other’s telepathy in Westview. It was a difficult rune but Wanda had proved to be a quick and skilled learner. After a couple more runes, Agatha would switch over to spells. 

Wanda didn’t like to admit that elemental magic was really frustrating. How was chaos and creation easier than controlling water? The two had moved to a nearby creek for this spell. Agatha instructed how to control the water but each try ended in one or both of them getting splashed. 

Agatha had an idea and moved closer to Wanda. “Here.” She began, standing behind her and placing her hands on her wrists, ignoring the quickened beating of her heart. Yeah, she was falling for the other, who also happened to be her soulmate, so be it. She’d deal with that “problem” later. “You have to follow the flow of the water with your body, be fluid in your movements and calm in your emotions.” 

It was hard to be calm when Agatha was against her like this and her cheeks were tinted the same color of her magic, but Wanda was determined to get this seemingly simple spell down. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths as she tried to cast the spell, moving in tandem with her mentor. Things seemed to be going quite well, opening one eye to see the water moving with them.

Until she fell, of course.

She had heard a rustling in the bushes and her concentration broke and caused her to stumble and fall forward, Agatha falling along with her into the cold shallow water. A deer ran out of their view. Wanda began to apologize before the other let out what was probably the most genuine laugh she’d ever heard, causing her already pounding heart to skip a few beats. She found herself laughing along.

Agatha stood up, helping the other to her feet as well. “Well that’s a way to become one with the water,” she teased, smiling at Wanda. “If I wasn’t already awake, I definitely am now.” She added before smirking and splashing the other.

“Hey!” The younger witch exclaimed as the cold water made her shiver, although the smile she had on never left her lips. “No fair,” she added before splashing the other in return. 

Agatha chuckled before reaching over to move some wet hair out of the other’s face. Her hand lingered on her cheek for a moment as their eyes met before she quickly looked away, going to climb out of the creek before a hand grabbed hers, and she looked back at Wanda. “What is it, darling?” She asked.

Wanda ignored how much the nickname made her face heat up. She hadn’t really been thinking as she grabbed the other’s hand, and she ended up staring into the other’s eyes for longer than most normal friends would. Her heart kept beating and she felt like if she didn’t say something to break the tension would be infinite.

“I think I’m falling for you.”

Ok- anything but that.

The older witch was the one blushing now, before chuckling softly as their fingers intertwined. “And here I thought you couldn’t stand me.” She teased, smiling at the other as they moved closer to one another.

It doesn’t matter who ended up kissing who, what matters is that it happened, and neither seemed to want to pull away.

When they finally did so, Wanda found herself leaning into Agatha’s touch as the other woman caressed her cheek, and she entangled one of her hands into the other’s unruly dark hair. 

“I don’t think I mind being your soulmate, Aggie.”

Another mark appeared on Agatha’s arm, and they both leaned in for another kiss

[demigodreading]

The Boo Crew

SVU FALL BINGO! This covers the Trick or Treat square for @storiesofsvu​‘s bino. Full of Rolivia fluff and another chapter for my Ella Alina Benson Series.

Characters: Olivia Benson, Amanda Rollins, Ellan Alina Benson (Original Character), Noah Benson, Jesse Rollins, Billie Rollins

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Amanda Rollins, Olivia Benson x Daughter! Original Character

Warnings: Fluff!

Summary: Ella is getting older now and is trying to enjoy as much of the “college experience” as she can... but there is one thing that she can’t seem to get out of her mind. Trick or Treating with her family

Word Count: 1886 

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Noah had been begging Olivia all morning to get into his Spiderman costume. No matter how many times Olivia protested telling him trick or treating was still hours away, Noah insisted that he had to put it on right away. Liv knew that by the time they did go out for the evening it would be covered with any arrangement of the arts and crafts they had for the day and the spaghetti she had planned for dinner. But finally, she just couldn’t take it anymore. When the words alright flew out of her mouth Noah was already halfway into his bedroom to get changed. Olivia braced herself against the kitchen counter letting out a large sigh as the baby monitor in Bille’s room started to go off. 

She reached down, gently putting her youngest daughter into her arms. She kissed the top of her forehead welcoming her from her afternoon nap. Just as Billie had settled down Jesse ran into the room. Olivia smiled at her young blonde daughter as she crossed her arms across her chest. She already was beginning to look exactly like Amanda. It always came out the most when she was about to be sassy.  As Jesse cocked her head to the side, Olivia prepared for Mini Amanda to begin talking.

“Momma,” Jesse began.

“Yes, my love.”

“Why does Noah get to put his spiderman suit on? I want to put my princess dress on!” Jesse asked and then curled her lip into a pout.

“You know Jesse that is a great point. Why don’t you go put your dress on and then we can start making all of those cool pumpkin decorations you wanted? Sound like a plan?” Olivia replied conceding that it was easier to let both of them run wild.

Jesse entangled her tiny limbs around Olivia’s legs, “I love you Momma!”

Olivia returned the sentiment as Jesse rushed out of the room as quickly as she entered. As her bedroom door shut, Bille let out a small babble. Olivia looked down at the grinning child, “Hey, I told your mom I would try to keep them out of their costumes. I tried...for exactly two hours. I think I deserve some props.”

Billie merely gave Olivia a small smirk, “You know she could have helped me but she is out with your sister getting a last-minute costume for this big party she is going to. So it is just me and you against the hooligans for the moment.”

Billie smiled at Olivia and reached her hand up towards Liv’s cheek. Olivia took the tiny hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. Once she had changed Billie and got her settled in a ghost Halloween onesie, they walked out into the living room. Noah was kneeled down on one knee in front of Jesse with everything but his mask on for his costume. In Jesse’s right hand she had what she deemed her magical fairy wand. She gently tapped each one of Noah’s shoulders with the wand declaring him the knight to her kingdom. As Olivia watched she couldn’t help but let out a small giggle.

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

Ella huffed as they left the third costume store with only two pieces of her costume for the evening in hand. Amanda stifled a laugh as they clambered back into Ella’s Subaru. Ella scrolled through her phone looking for another place they could go to find what she needed after turning her Halloween playlist in the background.

“You know if you had just gone to the store with the rest of us we probably could have found everything that you were looking for,” Amanda told her as Ella finally place her phone in the cupholder.

“I had an exam that day and hockey practice,” Ella reminded her, “Plus Noah would have tried to convince me to be another superhero again with him this year.”

“Oh come on hun you looked great at Storm last year.”

Ella smiled at the memory of holding Noah’s hand walking down the streets of New York knocking on every door with him. Jesse had been attached to Ella’s hip with her large purple jack o lantern candy bucket too young to be walking around on her own. It was one of the many pictures she had hanging up in her dorm room. Olivia and Amanda brought up the rear of the party pushing Jesse’s stroller that was full of all the surplus candy they were collecting. For as long as Ella could remember it was a  tradition for the whole family to go trick or treating together. Except for this year. This year was the year Ella was going to the most popular Halloween party at her university. She was determined to make friends and not be stuck sorting out candy with her younger siblings. 

However the more she thought about it the more guilt started to rise up. She was going to be missing Billie’s first Halloween. All for a party that she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be a part of. As if reading her thoughts Amanda placed her hand gently on top of the one Ella had clutched around the gear shift.

“You know it is okay to want to go out and do your own thing for Halloween? You are almost done with the college experience. Live it up while you can.”

Ella sighed, “I know, Halloween is just my favorite time of year. It is one of the only times that we are all together.”

“Well if you change your mind you are more than welcome to come. You know we would love to have you,” Amanda smiled, “But I will remind you though that your mom is going to throw a fit if you go out in that outfit tonight.”

Ella laughed, “It’s a warmer October than usual! I am almost twenty-one. She will be fine. I’ll make sure I cover up if I go out with y’all”

“If you say so,” Amanda giggled, “I love you Ella.” “I love you too Mom.”

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

Over an hour later Ella and Amanda were making their way through the front door with a large bag in hand. As they entered the living room Ella couldn’t help but laugh. The large foldable table Olivia had set up was covered in various colors of glitter and paint. Billie was in her rocker silently watching the show but Noah and Jesse were making their presence in the home known.  They giggled excitedly showing their painted hands to the two newcomers. Their costumes were covered in spots of paint and patches of glitter. Olivia looked up from her craft with a sheepish grin, her Shego costume already on.

“Welcome home my loves,” Olivia said standing from the table, “Would you like a pumpkin to decorate? The kids each left you one.”

“But you have to be in a costume to participate!” Noah pointed out.

“Oh and who made that rule?” Amanda asked, eyeing Olivia skeptically.

“We did!” Jesse smiled, causing Amanda to laugh.

“I tried babe. I really did,” Olivia sighed.

“Oh I know you did. They actually are covered less than I had thought,” Amanda replied, kissing her wife, “I’ll go get change and join the festivities.”

As Amanda disappeared down to her bedroom Noah turned to look at Ella. She smiled as his curls bounced around his face. When he finally calmed down he asked the question she was dreading the most, “Are you coming trick or treating with us?”

“Please sissy!” Jesse chimed in.

The two of them together were a dynamic duo that always seemed to get their way. Before Ella could answer Olivia tried to reason with the two, “Loves, don’t forget that Ella is a lot older. She might not want to go out with us. She could have her own plans with her friends.”

Noah’s lips curled into a pout as he looked at his older sister, “Please Ella. You are gone aaalll the time. We just want to be with you.”

Ella did her best to contain her tears as she looked at the curly-haired boy in front of her, “Of course I can come but only to help you get candy. Then I have to go hang out with some of my friends but I’m sure Mom and Momma will help you both sort it.”

With a loud cheer, both of her siblings launched themselves into Ella’s arms. Olivia merely smiled from her spot at the table trying to contain her excitement. She wanted Ella to get the full college experience but nothing beat all five of them together.

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

“I remember this neighborhood from last year,” Amanda told Olivia as she adjusted the shirt on her Kim Possible costume.

Olivia laughed pointing at a large rose bush that was two houses in front of them, “I sure hope you do because you spent five minutes puking in that rose bush. One kid… I think a pirate almost puked on his mother when they walked by us. She was so mad.”

“Hey! In my defense, I was seven months pregnant,” Amanda said shoving Olivia with her shoulder, “But I am talking about the picture we took before that whole incident.”

Olivia knew the picture well. It was still the lock screen of her phone. All of her kids dressed up holding hands. It was her favorite. Well besides the wedding picture that she kept as her home screen photo. She linked hands with Amanda as she looked at a similar scene unfolding in front of her.

“I think we need an updated picture.”

“Think they will notice?” Amanda asked reaching for her phone.

“Nope, just do it before Jesse decides that she has to give us fifteen different photos and Noah hides behind Ella.”

Amanda and Olivia paused momentarily so she could focus the camera. Walking in front of them Ella had Billie tucked against her hip. Billie’s Tigger costume was a stark contrast to the dark angel costume her older sister wore. Large black wings sprung from Ella’s back. Her arms were covered by a light long-sleeved shirt and she wore a long black skirt that dragged slightly on the ground behind her. Attached to her other side was Noah whose Spiderman fingers were entangled in hers. He had decided to forgo the mask claiming that it was too hot so his curls sprung in every direction. Next to him, Jessie was holding his hand letting his Marvel pillowcase hang in the air between them. Her purple dress sparkled under the dimming light and her crown was cocked to the side. In her other hand, she held her Rapunzel pillowcase full of candy and her magical fairy wand. Amanda took a series of pictures and then turned to kiss her wife. 

“Look at our babies.”

Olivia smiled taking the blonde’s hand as they kept walking, “It’s so nice having them all together.” “We did good Liv. We did good.”

Olivia nodded and then looked at Ella again, “That’s not really what she is wearing out tonight is she?”

Amanda let out a large laugh, “Oh god no. She is basically wearing her undergarments to that party.”

Olivia let out a large sigh before shaking her head, “They grow up to fast.”

“I know my love. I know.”

[silksandcravats]

Love Language Series: Words of Affirmation with Flip

masterlist

love language series masterlist

warnings: swearing, female-reader, end of friendship,

It was a nasty fight, and everyone who was in the Colorado Springs’ Howard Johnson’s that day for lunch got to witness it, including Flip. You hadn’t even expected to see her today, after all, it had been quite some time since you’ve seen her last.

One of your closest friends had recently thrown herself entirely into her new relationship and you were happy for her, at least at first. You’d found your other half in Flip, your wedding was the best day of your life and of course you’d want that for your friends! But you quickly became suspicious of the mystery man when you met him in person. You could tell by your friend’s behaviour that she wasn’t totally comfortable with him, she couldn’t be herself. You watched as she slowly shifted into someone else, just last week she’d gone dancing three times, and she hated dancing. 

Flip was just finishing up paying for the check when she came in, on the arm of the man you’d grown to hate. Immediately you knew something was wrong, she looked so...tired. He leaned in to say something in her ear and she smiled at him, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. The couple moved to the corner of the counter, probably waiting for a takeaway order, and that was when you saw it. Her left hand came up to fiddle with the earrings she was wearing, and your eyes were drawn to a big shiny diamond sitting on her ring finger.

You must have made some kind of audible noise of shock because Flip’s head perked up, his brows furrowed, and then the detective followed your line of vision and seemed to catch on. No way she was engaged? She knew him for all of a month! You knew she was eager to settle down, but this was absolutely absurd. 

The waitress spoke some words to the couple, probably informing them it would be another minute or two on their order based on the current state of the restaurant. Your friend’s apparent fiance mumbled something to her, pressed a kiss to her cheek and excused himself, moving towards the mens room. The second she was alone you shot up from your seat, and before you could stop yourself you were marching up to your friend. 

“I know that’s not a fucking wedding ring?” A bold introduction to be sure, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Well hello to you too y/n, yes, it is. Burt proposed at the country club this past weekend, pretty isn’t it?” She smiled briefly, holding it up and staring at it. For some reason it almost sounded like she was convincing herself more than you.

“Well-uh yes, it’s very pretty,” you acknowledged, fumbling for the words you were looking for. How could this have happened? “Little soon though no?”

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head quickly. “I mean I’ve been dreaming of getting married since I was a little girl. You know that y/n, I thought you’d be happy for me,” she frowned, she looked disappointed in you.

“Of course, I want you to be happy! but,” you paused, looking behind you to make sure he was still nowhere to be seen. “You’re both so different. I just don’t think he’s the one, I want better for you, that’s all.”

“Well what the hell am I supposed to do with that y/n?” she snapped. Her temper has apparently shortened greatly since you’d seen her last.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” you backtracked quickly. “I know how important this is to you and that’s why I want you to be with someone perfect for you!”

“Alright, well why don’t you go hand this back to him!” She pulled her engagement ring off, slamming it on the counter. “Since you seem to know my life better than I do, huh?”

“No-no I didn’t mean-”

“God this is all so like you ya know?” She was basically yelling now, and you were sure more than a few eyes had turned to look at you. “You are so selfish y/n, do you know that? You claim to care about your friends so much but the second anyone else has any chance at happiness, however fleeting, you gotta go and shoot em down to make you feel better about yourself!” 

“I can’t believe you would say that,” you whispered, stepping back.

“I should have said it a long time ago!” She continued to yell, her words slicing deep. “You were always such a miserable sorry excuse for a friend, and now you’re going to act like you’re some kind of victim! You’re going to start crying like the slimy, manipulative bitch you are, because I’m the bad guy! Aren’t I y/n?”

You set your jaw, you could feel wetness collecting in your eyes but you didn’t dare let a tear slip. You were practically in a stare off as silence fell over the two of you. If the whole diner wasn’t already watching the two of you, they certainly were now.

“You know what,” you lowered your voice so only she could hear, “I hope you're happy in this trap you’ve set up for yourself. I really do.” 

You didn’t wait for a response, instead you spun on your heel, turning for the door. Flip stood from the booth to follow you, he got to the door and paused, turning to face your ex friend. There were plenty of things he’d like to say in that moment, he felt an intense need to defend you, but he refrained, shaking his head and pushing the door open, following his wife into the parking lot.

You marched towards Flips’ Chevrolet, your mind was reeling, you simply couldn’t believe the events that had just occurred. Her words stung, she must have known they would, they were meant to. You couldn’t wrap your head around how you had lost such a dear friend so suddenly, she had just slipped between your fingers. You weren’t selfish, were you? 

You approached the passenger door and tugged at the handle twice before realising it was still locked. So you crossed your arms, waiting for Flip to catch up and unlock the car.

The car ride was silent, Flip hated it. He knew you were turning those words over and over again in your head, digesting them. When he’d first pulled out of the parking lot he’d tried placing one of his big warm palms on your knee to comfort you, but you pulled away, curling up against the door and staring out the window. He’d tried speaking to you once, but you responded quickly that you didn’t want to talk about it.

When you arrived home he followed you into the house and up to your bedroom. You picked up the laundry basket that was laying at the foot of the bed, and plopped it on top of the bed. You busiest yourself folding the rest of the load you had meant to finish it before going out for lunch. Flip sat on his brown armchair in the corner of your bedroom, a few feet away from you, and you could feel his gaze on you as you worked. You folded in silence for a few minutes, still muddling in the events of earlier, and then you heard Flip let out a loud sigh.

“Alright, come here,” he called, patting his lap, nodding his head to further emphasis himself. 

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it, please Phil,” your voice came out defeated.

“Ok,” he sat for a moment. “Well can I talk to you?” You turned to stare at his face, considering him. He gestured you over again with his head and this time you gave in, tossing one of your tops to the side and walking over to him, a little smile slipping out.

You purposefully perched yourself on the very edge of his lap, teasing him, and looked at him expectantly. He rolled his eyes and grabbed your waist tightly, tugged you all the way into him until your shoulder bumped into his chest, the sudden motion causing you to squeal. He tightened his arms around you and poked his big strong nose against your cheek.

“You know I love you honey?” He kissed your jaw.

“You don’t think I’m a selfish bitch?” you forced a half laugh, trying to pretend it didn’t bother you too much. As if that would ever work with Flip.

“You know what I think of you woman?” He asked, grabbing your chin to direct your gaze to him. He has the prettiest eyes, you thought to yourself. His intense gaze was still enough make your stomach flutter even after all these years.

“What do you think of me?” You indulge him, giving another small smile.

“I think you’re too kind for your own good sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes at that, shaking your head at him, and tried to look away.

“Nuh uh, don’t roll your eyes baby, I mean it,” he said seriously pulling your face towards him again. “Don’t you be worrying about some shit somebody else said ok? You’re the farthest thing from selfish pumpkin. You’re such a good person, and you don’t even know it. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.  You're my favourite person in the whole world baby, I’m so glad you let me marry you. Don’t know what I did to deserve you gorgeous.” He leaned forward leaving a quick, sweet kiss on your lips. Then he let go of your chin and you moved forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“God I love you Flip,” you spoke, voice muffled as your mouth was on top of his flannel.

“I love you more baby.”

And then he’d probably fuck you into the mattress while he made you say nice things about yourself but I’ve done my very best to keep this series PG so we’ll have to address that another time.

Tags: @aloneandsleepless​ @maryforyou​ @emeraldsiren20​ @leather-flannel-liquor​ @ellenmunn​

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[the-knights-who-say-book]

Of a Witch, a Gossip, and a Library

The library on the corner of Oak and Vine was an accident. The crown didn’t bother opening libraries this far out west, so far from any of the major cities—so far that the townspeople joked to each other the king might someday forget to send his tax collectors out there, too. So Feldwidth had never had a library before.

When the local witch died a few years back, nobody quite knew what to do with her narrow corner cottage, with its living space upstairs and walls lined with shelves of witchcraft ingrediants on the single ground floor room. The witch hadn’t any children or relatives to continue living there, and nobody else claimed the space in the months after her death. The downstairs room, shelves on all four walls (even on the inside of the door!), just didn’t invite new inhabitants. No one in Feldwidth, except for the general store owner on Main, practiced a trade which required so many shelves, and no one wanted the tedious task of taking them all down.

It was Margorette Clay, who lived just outside the village and came in once a week supposedly to sell produce but mostly just to gossip, who said they ought to get themselves another witch.

“Not like you find them growing in a road ditch,” Jame Clott said irritably, because Margo was leaning against his fence. As far as he was concerned, no one who hadn’t painted that fence themselves were allowed to lean on it.

“Suppose not. Guess that’s only where you find Clotts,” Margo said, and ducked the dirty sheet that Jame had been beating out on the stone path and was about to beat out on her head. Cawing her distinctive laughter, she ran down the street, apron full of apples jostling and jumping with her loping stride.

Jame leaned over his fence to yell after her, “And they find Clays on the streets after it rains, too dumb to get back into the dirt!”

Margo’s laughter drew Catty Loose to the open doorway of her house as sure as if she’d had a ringing bell to announce new gossip. “What’s got Jame worked up?”

“Cause I said you ought to get yourselves a new witch,” Margo said, barely half-truthful as usual. “Buy an apple? They’re almost as blushing pretty as your kitling.”

Catty’s smallest daughter went red and buried herself deeper in her mother’s skirts.

Another kid, barely older, leaned against Margo’s leg and pulled her hand, nearly spilling all the apples from the apron she was holding up. “Why nother witch? What for?”

“Ah, every place ought to have one,” Margo said vaguely. “It’s the way of things. One apple for each of your kitlings, Catty, and I’ll throw two in free.”

————————

“Margo’s right,” Catty Loose said after temple that Saturday, as the townspeople gathered in the yard to mingle and eat, her arms full of children and another two playing at her feet.

With preternatural hearing, Jame Clott turned from speaking with his husband Willem across the yard to say loudly, “Margorette Clay has never been right once in her life.”

Catty ignored him. “We ought to get a new witch. Sooner or later we’ll want one.”

“That’s crap,” Jame said, coming into the circle that surrounded Catty, which seemed to be half made up of her own children. “What’ll we want a witch for? No one’s been cursed in ages.”

“Aida Macintosh,” someone put in.

“Aida Macintosh ate the red berries by the stream. That’s not a curse so much as a punishment for stupidity.”

No one could really disagree.

“Need one for love shpells,” a tiny Loose kitling named Alfed suggested.

Jame crouched down, his face softening, to look into his small, earnest face. “Love spells are a gross affront against consent and should have been outlawed years ago,” he said gently.

Little Alfed Loose sneezed in his face.

“For getting a baby when you can’t make one yourself,” Mendy Hark said, one hand squeezing her daughter’s shoulder protectively.

Jame, wiping his face, didn’t say anything.

————————

“So how’s one get a witch anyway?” Lukey Keening asked, continuing the conversation from several days ago without preamble, as he tended to do. He and his overly long teenage limbs were sprawled in the grass of the meadow where the families of Oak street gathered once a week for a community meal, conspicuously not helping.

The eldest Loose girl, siblings hoisted on either hip, made a thoughtful sound. “You don’t get one, I think, they get you.”

“I don’t wanna get gotten,” one child on her hip sniffled.

“That’s only bad witches that get you,” Lukey said.

Lettie sighed. “No, I mean, you don’t do something to get a witch, they come to you.”

“That’s right, girly,” Margo Clay said from her perch watching over a pot of stew on the open fire. She had not been invited. Like witches, Margo simply appeared without being fetched. “But I tell you what, you can make them know you want one.”

“How’s that?” Daff Keening asked, arms crossed over his comfortably large belly. His sudden and stout presence made his son scramble up and pretend to be busy helping Lettie wrangle several children, all of whom resembled her as nesting dolls resemble the one they fit inside.

“You make a place ready for her.” Margo’s brash tone, as ever, drew more people from their tasks to pay attention to her. “Like baiting a trap. Can’t expect a mouse to walk into your trap unless you make it look inviting.”

“What do you know about mice?” Sal Hark asked skeptically.

“They’re close relatives of hers,” Jame Clott said, unable to resist. “The better question is, what does she know about witches?”

————————

Margo Clay was an incorrigible gossip, but people who liked gossip liked Margo, so she was listened to anyway.

Catty Loose sent Lettie  to sweep the empty store and dust the unnecessary amount of shelves. Lukey Keening tagged along to clean the small windows and help keep three small Looses in hand. The gaggle of children in and around the shop drew Jame Clott to poke his head in and see what was going on.

“Well! It looks clean, but it doesn’t look like a witch’s shop,” he declared.

“He’s right, Mama,” Lettie told her mother that evening. “I tossed out all the shriveled up herbs she had in there when I cleaned the shelves. Some of them had crumbled near into dust. But with the shelves empty it doesn’t look much like a witch’s place.”

Catty relayed this to the Macintoshes, who were eager for a replacement witch, in case anybody got cursed like Aida had last year.

“Mmhmm,” Catty said to that.

“I think the Harks have the magic books the old witch left,” Theo Macintosh said. “We can put those in there.”

—————————

Sal Hark brought the books around the shop a few days later, squinting in the sunshine at the man who was already there. “Hey, Jame. Witch showed up yet?”

Jame Clott startled back from the window he was peering through. “Nah, no witch is coming.”

Sal let out a whistle of agreement, but his smile was amused, like he thought Jame was wrong.

“Not with the shop looking that shoddy, anyway,” Jame said with a sniff. “There isn’t even a sign.”

“Blew down in a storm a few years ago, I think,” Sal said. “We know what shop it is, anyhow. Not like we’ve got shops every which way.”

“The witch wouldn’t know, since she’s new,” Jame said testily. If the whole town was going to take up Margo’s logic, they had better be consistent.

“Tell you what, then, you ought to paint a new sign. You’re the only one here who knows which end of a paintbrush goes where.”

Jame shook his head and waved goodbye. He wasn’t making a sign for an empty shop, a shop that would remain empty.

That night he saw Willem look out their kitchen window at that empty shop, something sad and wistful in his eyes, several times during their quiet dinner. Their dinners were always quiet, though they told each other about their days in detail, and debated if Margo’s pumpkins were any good at length. It was the quiet of something missing, the kind of quiet the Loose’s house down the street, full to the brim, had never known.

“Sal Hark said I should paint a sign for the witch’s shop, to make her want to come,” Jame said, surprising himself.

Willem tore his eyes away from the window and looked at him. After a moment, he smiled. “Face it, Jame, they won’t get her to come without your help.”

————————

Jame put up the new sign next week, his back so stiff-straight that nobody dared tease him about coming round to Margo’s thinking, though several people gathered across the street to watch.

The sign was big and square and sturdy, and painted on both sides was an open tome with stylized curls of magic shooting from it. Willem held the ladder steady while he hung it up, and Jame felt almost hopeful. Through the shining little windows passersby could see the neat shop room and the witch’s small collection of spell books sitting on one of the many shelves, and it looked almost inviting.

————————

Margo, who lived outside town, was the first one to realize someone had come to town overnight.

“Your witch is here!” she crowed, all but dancing down Oak Street in the early morning. “What did I tell you? Make it nice and she’ll come!”

“Quiet your racket,” said an irritable Jame, poking his head out his door. “Witch isn’t the word I’d use for you.”

“Wheel tracks!” she yelled at him. “Fresh wheel tracks down the road before I left my farm! Who brings a cart into town except for me and the tax collector? And the tax collector wouldn’t have set up shop in there!” She pointed one victorious finger at the corner shop where Jame’s sign swayed gently in the breeze. A rickety wooden cart was collapsed on the ground below it.

Jame opened his mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Down the street, Catty Loose stuck her head out the window. “Margo, what are you whooping about? Oh my—Lettie! Lettie, find my shawl!” Her head ducked back inside, and before the last copper curl had followed it out the window, she was rushing out the front door, Lettie close on her heels.

Jame snapped his mouth shut and hurried after Margo, Catty, and Lettie, following them to the corner shop. A sleepy bundle of Loose kitlings, a couple of Keenings, a herd of Macintoshes and even a Hark or two were all heading in the same direction.

Someone had moved into the witch’s shop.

There were muddy shoe prints down the stone path, a new blue-checked curtain drawn over the window, and Margo standing triumphantly in front of the house, hands on her hips. “Didn’t I tell you! Didn’t I!”

“So you did,” said Sal Hark, “but quiet, Margo, or you’ll wake her up. She must’ve come in dead of night.”

Margo ignored him. “Well, I hope you all remember this. When I’m right, I’m right!”

Behind her, the witch’s door cracked open.

The girl who opened it was no older than Lettie Loose, and probably younger. Her face was nervous, but as she took in the crowd outside her door, it broke into a shy smile. “Oh. Hello. I didn’t expect... I’m not all set up yet. But I suppose the library can be open now if you want.”

“What?” said Margo.

“Library?” said Catty.

“I knew it,” said Jame. “You didn’t catch yourself a witch. You caught a librarian.”

Margo glared at him, apparently lost for words.

The girl looked back and forth between them. “I’m sorry?”

Margo rounded on her. “A librarian! Is that what you are? Then you have to leave. We’re waiting for a witch.”

The girl’s mouth opened and shut, her eyes big, and then she looked down and sniffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jame snapped, a protectiveness in his voice so fierce that Margo took a step back from both him and the girl. He glared around him, making sure no one else was going to follow Margo’s lead, and then turned back to the girl. All anger dropped out of his face immediately, replaced by a gentle warmth. “Have you got family?”

“Not anymore,” she said. “I’m... I’ve just been taking my library around. That’s my family. I thought we could stay here, maybe, If that’s alright.”

“That’s just fine. We’ve never had a library before, we’re all real grateful you came. Come have breakfast.” He didn’t wait for an answer, already thinking of having a full kitchen, and Willem no longer staring out the window, and needing to find more eggs for breakfast, and who in town might have extra shoes to replace the worn-thin boots on her feet.

A layer of tension seemed to slough off her. She stepped out of her doorway and a few feet onto the path to follow Jame, then paused. Looking back at them, she said, “When you take a book, write the title and your name in the ledger, and return it in two weeks.”

Skipping to catch up with Jame, she grabbed his hand with an easy sort of trust. She turned her face up to him. “If it’s not for a library, why is it full of shelves? Why were there already books there? Why does it have a book sign?”

“Sometimes,” Jame said, “People think they’re waiting for one thing, but they’re really waiting for another.”

“Were you?” she asked.

He saw the moment Willem noticed them through the window, saw hope dawn in his eyes as he watched them come up the path; his husband, and a girl who looked like she needed a home.

“No,” he said. “We were waiting exactly for you.”

[shimmershae]

Just watched the episode and I’m going to have a lot of thoughts for you, most of them probably bordering on incoherence (LOL) so this is your last chance to nope on out of this post because I’m going to go ahead and put everything else behind a cut to save the eyes that do not want to see any  spoilers at all.  Unlike mine, that very much wanted to see but in a lot of cases?  Could not see shit, but I digress.

Shae’s stream of consciousness coming at you in 3-2-1.  

First of all, can I saw how good it is to have my show back again?  Like, no.  I don’t quite have Season 5 levels of excitement about the new/last season, but it is definitely nice to have all these characters back.  

So all these thoughts of mine.  Okay.  Bear with me because there be a whole lot of them, lol.  

My immediate impression as the episode opened was WHOA.  Such a cool shot of Daryl with one light wing, one dark wing (representing the two sides to Daryl maybe--the man of honor versus the man he was raised to be, hmm?) looking out over some dark vista of something.  Seriously.  It’s dark.  My room is also dark at the moment and still I was squinting to see.  To make out what I’m “looking” at.  I really, really hope the rest of this season isn’t this hard to make out.  

Is that a tank?  Kinda sorta a callback to Rick’s first episode?  If so, cool.  If not, well.  Us fans have always put way more thought into things.  For real.  Change my mind.  

Holy intense eye contact, Batman!  Daryl Dixon has literally never looked at anyone--not BethusConLeah--in quite the same smoldering way as he looks at Carol.  It’s next level.  I don’t know why people be fooling themselves into thinking different.  

Let’s see.  I can make out--besides Daryl, Maggie, and that face mask dude I already forgot the name of--Kelly, Magna, Jerry (who’s that with him?), and Carol.  Sorry.  My world, like Daryl’s, inevitably narrows to Carol.  She’s loking fierce and fine AF per usual.  

Was that Rosita I noticed rewinding to relive Daryl eye-fucking Carol?  

I’m guessing this is the army base they talked about in 10C.  

That Walker perking up like “I smell food--pancakes and bacon and oohhhh” has me giggling inappropriately right off the bat.  WTF.  

Look at all my fabulous ladies tiptoeing through that Walker minefield.  And Carol spotting that gun that might be useful right away.  Listen, if you don’t think her mind ain’t always ten steps ahead of everybody else’s, you’d be wrong.  

So.  Are these Walkers just so old and feeble not even the call of fresh meat attracts them?  Because just tiptoeing through their midst without the knockoff Lady Gaga meatsuits or skin masks has never really worked before that I can remember.  

I just want to see most of this season.  Is that really too much to ask?  Don’t X-Files and Game of Thrones us, Angela.  Please and thank you very fucking much.  

Okay.  Is the one drop of blood thing making anybody else have 28 Days Later vibes?  Kinda?  Sorta?  No?  Just me?  Okay then.  Carry on.  

Wait a minute, though.  How they be explaining how Daryl keeeps acquiring all these new tats all the time?  Hmm?  It’s like they just quit giving a shit about continuity in these latter seasons.  

I mean.  Do Walkers sleep now?  LMAO.  What is this?  I guess they’re constantly evolving?  

There’s my baby Lydia.  Love my smol bean.  

Alright though.  I love to see the ladies of TWD kick some ass.  It’s very gratifying.  Gimps would never.  Thank you, Angela.  

Clever, resourceful, calm and collected, quick thinking Carol to the rescue!  Seriously.  Her haters must be withering away inside with absolute envy.  

Hey, ya’ll.  Remember when Carol was still mastering her sharpshooting skills at the Prison yard and shot at Rick’s feet?  Her little “sorry, sorry”?  LOL.  If Rick could only see her now.  Wait.  He already knew what so many of his stans refuse to acknowledge--Carol=ultimate survivor and true savior to the group many times over.  

Maggie’s got herself a gun, too.  Go my badass girls.  

Of course, Carol’s got everybody’s back.  Of fucking course, Daryl’s got hers even when everybody else seem frozen in some kind of awe or stupification or something.  Microcosm of the whole damn show right there.  

Carol’s like “here’s your knives, love of my life.”   

Eh.  Maybe that’s just me.  

Nah.  She’s totally thinking it, too.  

YAS!  YAS!  Norman Reedus and Melissa McBride with the top billing.  How very far my babies have come.  

Listen.  I miss all the characters we’ve lost.  Absolutely.  But I love the ones that are still with us, that have been with us for so very long so hard.  Whether I love their stories or decisions or not.  

Is that THE Alexandria sign?  That sign’s been through some shit.  

DOG!  Daryl kneeling to embrace our Grimes babies has me all up in my feels.  And how cute is Dog getting all excited and making sure he’s the first one there to welcome back, Daddy?  

Hershel is literally just as puppy dog cute as Glenn ever was.  Really some Grade A casting.  

What did Maggie call Mr. T?  Ducky?  Dougie?  Sometimes with Maggie?  I really cannot tell.  Anyway.  He’s Mr. T. for me until I find out differently, probably through rewatching with close captioning, lol.  

Maggie’s got more people.  So.  Some new redshirts to sacrifice for plot purposes.  I don’t know if I should bother learning their names or not. 

I seem to remember Meridian being mentioned in one of the episode synopses.  

Sophia’s hair tie around Carol’s neck will never fail to be an emotional throat punch.  My heart.  

“They come at night and by the time you see them, you’re already dead.”  Welp.  Guess that means we ain’t seeing shit for at least this first third of the season, lol.  Very horror-eque though.  

“You’re leaving to fight ghosts.”  Aaron, to Maggie.  So I see Aaron’s the type to get the hell outta Dodge when the Boogeyman comes calling, hahaha.  Least he was.  In the old world.  

Rosita’s pissed off expression at Gabe’s decision to volunteer for the so-called suicide mission gives me life.  

My baby Carol is tired AF of suicide missions.  You can tell.  Also?  Methinks she has something to prove to Daryl here.  Or at least feels like she does.  

Dog with his little tactical vest.  I love it.  

I guess I get why they had Carol and Rosita stay behind.  They had to more evenly split up the badassery to make things more fair and balanced, lol.  

Okay.  So Negan’s definitely earned everybody’s disdain.  But they’re being woefully short-sighted by not at least hearing the dude out.  Isn’t he at least native to the area?  

“That is God telling us to turn around.”  I’m actually on Negan’s side with this one, but Gabe answering him with “I’m pretty sure he would have run that past me first” has me howling with laughter.  Father Gabe has gone straight up savage in these last couple of seasons.  Rosita’s influence, perhaps?  

I see what Angela is doing.  Trying to make Negan the voice of reason.  In this particular case?  It’s kind of working.  I’m still ultimately on Maggie’s side with this though BECAUSE GLENN.  

Imagine showing up to work and unironically dressing like a storm trooper every day.  Excuse me while I LOL.  

Even in the ZA, there’s bullshit paperwork.  

“Pumpkin colored spacesuit.”  Good one, Ezekiel.  

LOL forever.  I love Princess.  

“Michonne.  Our Michonne shut people out of Alexandria for years.”  Timely reminder that choices aren’t always perfect.  Neither are people.  

WTF is reprocessing?  Sounds ominous.  LMAO at Eugene’s “Okay.  We gotta go.”  

What in the actual hell with all those bagged, squirming undead?  Creepy AF in that subway tunnel.  

Should I just go ahead and call that the Easter bunny?  We’ve had some version of it pop up since Season 1.  

Is it stubborn pride with Maggie or what?  Why go through with something when all signs point toward the wisdom of stopping?  You can argue that she’s acting similarly to Carol last season, but there’s a huge difference here folks.  Carol did her damndest to Lone Wolf that shit and minimize the danger to those she loved.  Maggie’s straight up enlisting those she “cares about” to carry out her mission of revenge or vengeance, what have you. Let’s see if she gets near the amount of hate for it.  Personally, I don’t blame her for her feelings one bit.  They are valid.  But her knowingly drawing the others into the game?  That’s my sticking point.  That’s how she and Carol differ, even if some people refuse to see or accept it.  Anyway.  Hopping right on off my soapbox.  

“Why don’t you get up on your little tippy toes and try?”  Omigosh, I’d dying.  When I tell you I about passed out with laughter, I do not exaggerate.  I should hate Negan forever and I do.  Really.  But I adore JDM and he frequently makes me LOL.  He’s made Negan entertaining if not completely redeemable since Angela took over and more layered so I say kudos.  

He has a point about Maggie playing dictator.  Damn you, show, for slanting the writing just that smidgen that makes Negan make sense over his victim.  I guess, though, it’s better this way.  Gives both characters more shades of gray.  

“He’s a dick but he makes sense.”  I feel like this is Angela calling us all out when we dare to harbor any lasting resentment toward Negan for what he did to Glenn.  

Speaking of--Negan.  You deserved Daryl’s punch to the mouth.  You just went a bridge too damn far.  

“Keep pushing me, Negan.  Please.”  Warning shots fired, Asshole.  You better watch yourself around the Widow Rhee.  

Have I mentioned how much I love Princess?  Her shipping the Commonwealth guards is killing me, lol.  I can’t wait ‘til she meets Carol and Daryl.  She’s going to have their number in two seconds flat.  

I like Ezekiel and Princess as a duo.  I’m not saying romantically necessarily.  I just like them in scenes together because they’re fun.  There’s sort of a protective indulgence Ezekiel seems to telegraph whenever they’re in scenes together.  Like he’s like don’t hurt this one.  I don’t know.  For all these words I’ve written, I can’t quite find the ones to adequately describe what I mean.  

The wall of the lost gives me such Battlestar Galactica feels.  What sad thoughts it inspires.  

Eugene in that Commonwealth gear.  Omigosh, lol.  So did they just sneak up and take Princess’s little Commonwealth ship’s gear when they were sneaking off on their own to have a quickie?  

Princess finding that note for Yumiko on the wall actually gave me chills.  Yeah.  I’m easy.  Just the suggestion of someone getting reunited with lost family gets me all up in my feels.  Yumiko saying “I have to stay”?  I felt that.  

Oh no.  Dog ran off!  Somebody protect my favorite fictional puppy.  Of course, Daryl goes after him.  He’s always been the sweet one.  Merle said it.  

Eh.  Negan taking Maggie’s hand at the end there would have smacked too much of Negan Sue and Maggie’s biggest plot of the season would have been prematurely dealt with so I get why they did what they did.  But c’mon.  It’s not really that big of a cliffhanger, is it?  

Okay, so Angela calls those sleeping beauty Walkers “Lurkers” and I get it.  Apparently they’re a bigger deal in the comics, but I really don’t remember seeing them all that much on the actual show.  Somebody jog my memory.  

Of fucking course, you can actually see what’s happening in the inside the episode clips.  I wish we could choose to view the episode with that lighting because some of us be blind.  And this time I mean in the more literal sense.  Not the figurative one.  

Anyway.  I’m going to stop trying to write a novel for ya’ll and move on to better things.  Like maybe a nap.  Maybe some early dinner.  I don’t know.  I’m tired AF and need a little recharge.    

Before I go, though?  Overall impression of the episode?  I liked it.  There were parts that I loved (all the ladies being badass, every second of Carol, Daryl reuniting with the Grimes babies and Dog, all things Princess, some of Negan’s one-liners about had me busting a gut, Rosita serving looks, Kelly and Lydia getting to be badass too) and parts I didn’t love (not being able to see a damn thing, Angela trying to tip the scales in Negan’s favor, not enough Carol or Aaron or Rosita, no reunion between Aunt Carol and the Grimes babies even though that picture floating around suggests it was at least shot, not being able to see a damn thing, all the Alexandria people playing follow the leader for Maggie when she’s been gone 6 years and Daryl’s right there--hell, even Father G deserves the honor over her because it’s obvious they’re not exactly on the same wavelength anymore).  

I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m just glad to have our show back.    

Later, lovelies.  

[reidecorating]

Waking up Slow

Requested: Nope, this is just what happens when I decide to avoid studying for physics 

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x Female Reader 

Word Count: Around 2k

Summary: It’s been a dream of mine to wear Gube’s alien shirt and make him food and just have a good old yarn with the man so I decided to write about it. This is just a whole lot of flirting and banter and making out on a Sunday morning

Warnings: None, a lil spicy but pretty SFW, might mistake this for a pillow though, with the amount of fluff

Rays of impatient late morning sun poured in through the gaps in the curtains, which were hastily shut the night before, as they failed to meet in the middle. Matthew never minded sleeping with them half open. Some nights, he would squint and try to make out constellations in the cosmos as his whole world lay curled up beside him, her ear against his heartbeat the way a young child would listen to the ocean through a shell. Other nights, when they would both lay tired and out of breath, she would call him moonlight as her fingers danced along his collarbones, shimmering in the star shine as the thin veil of sweat painting them was the only evidence of what they had been doing previously. However, now, while the two of them remained entwined, the white sheets appeared to glow yellow in the wake of the stars which had collected into one, hours ago. She woke up to Matthew’s arm draped around her waist, having found its way under the fabric of the shirt that scantily covered her, in an attempt to share the warmth of her skin. Stretching and letting out a yawn, she debated falling back asleep, seeing as her only interlocutor was still doing the same. Craning her neck over the pile of poetry sitting on the bedside table, obscuring her view, she made out the small digital numbers reading just before midday, and turned to face the dozing man beside her.

Her eyes brushed over him in all his sleeping beauty, head resting against the supple skin of his upturned palm, brown hair brighter in the morning light, pixie nose tilted up towards the headboard. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks at whatever he was dreaming of, and she wanted, so badly, to taste the pink of his parted lips, to join his dreamscape by breathing into his lungs. A large portion of the sheets had been stolen by her in the middle of the night. While she was bundled up like a cinnamon roll, Matthew lay exposed to whatever monsters and ghosts he claimed reside in his house. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath, but her eyes trailed down to where the waistband of his pyjamas hung temptingly low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination. Catching her off guard, he pried open one eye, the murky waters of a pond spilling into her view. “It’s rude to stare,”

“Not at art, it isn’t,” she combated his teasing. He groaned theatrically as he stretched out across the span of the bed before regaining his position. “I won’t take sugar in my coffee then, you’re sweet enough,” he smirked. “Oh no, could you please move, I’m actually trying to look at the portrait behind you,” she teased. “Evil,”

“But you love me,”

“I do.”

He removed his arm from where it rested, a little too low on her body, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek, absentmindedly stroking his thumb against the slight flush of her face. She tilted her head slightly to delicately graze her lips against the inside of Matthew’s wrist, making his breath hitch. “Kiss me?” She asked, giving into the adoring look in his eyes. “Your wish is my command, m’lady,” 

“Wow, a magician and a genie, I really hit the jackpot with you,”

“You’re really going to leave bodybuilder off the list? With muscles like these? I’m built like…Dwayne Johnson. Did you know they wanted me to be in the Fast and Furious series? But they actually thought I was ‘too buff’ and ‘too macho’ and all my sex appeal would distract from the plot, so they had to settle for Dwayne.”

Laughing into his chest, she pulled herself up and straddled his waist, bringing the blanket with her as if it were a cape. “I’m not joking, Y/N, my net worth is sixty thousand dollars per muscle,” he continued, one hand behind his head and the other now resting on her bare hip, tracing light circles on the skin where her giant shirt had ridden up, revealing the black band of her underwear. “Essentially, what you’re saying is that I could sell you on the black market and make a lot of cash?” She asked him raising an eyebrow and toying with the mess of his hair. “You could, but then you would miss out on this.” He finally kissed her, slow and tactile. Resting on her forearms, linked together above his head, she let her hair drape down and tickle the sides of his face. He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, at a painstakingly low pace, his hands now caressing her jaw and dabbling with her hair. She breathed him in while he continued to gently suck at her lips, then jaw, then neck, eliciting faint moans from her. “We’re hungry,” he spoke, halting his actions, removing her from her reverie. “Matthew, don’t stop,” she whined semi-facetiously. He gave her a smug look, eyebrows raised. “Fine, I’ll make you food - only because you did it yesterday - but we’re not done here,” she huffed, making him chuckle as she crossly got off him, and out of bed. “It looks nice on you, pumpkin,” Matthew chirped. Tilting her head in confusion, she looked down and realised he was referring to his whimsical alien shirt she had stolen the night before. The buttons that were undone torturously left Matthew craving her skin, as she gave him a glimpse of his favourite view each time she bent down to slide on a sock. “Considering it is a woman’s top…”

“Hey!” He threw a pillow at her, “I thought it looked nice, something a space cowboy would wear during his leisurely time,” “I didn’t say it didn’t look nice!” Her hands went up in surrender, suppressing a smile when she threw the pillow back in his direction. Making her way towards the kitchen, she left him starstruck and staring at the ceiling, smiling to himself like a teenager in love.

Eyes getting tired of reading the words of Robert Frost, when his stomach grumbled loud enough to genuinely frighten him, he placed down the book and followed the enticing aroma wafting into his room. When he saw her, she was humming to herself, swaying to the rhythm of whatever song was playing in her head. He admired her bare legs as the hem of his shirt skimmed the tops of her thighs. Gazing at her tied hair swinging to and fro, giving him snippets of the back of her neck, he became eager to pick up where they had left off. “Hey there lover of mine, wasn’t it you who told me its rude to stare?” She beamed at him, turning around cradling a giant bowl of some sort of mixture in one arm while sporting a giant wooden spoon with the other. He realised she must’ve heard him shuffling around, he wasn’t the most graceful person alive after all. His heart melted at the smile she sent his way, tucking his lip beneath his teeth to avoid grinning back so hard he would sprain something. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he glanced down at his feet from where he leant against the doorframe. She still made him nervous. However, the man never failed to make her fall past the point of no return each day, so they were even. “I’m so in love with you, Gube,” she shook her head and laughed, facing the stove again. He stepped forwards and slunk his arms around her, planting a kiss on her cheek before dipping a finger in the batter to taste it. “I tried making us heart shaped pancakes,” she muttered sheepishly. “Key word, tried.” He stifled a laugh, looking at the piles of pancakes on their plates, decorated in berries and cream. “Maybe if you squint and look at them from really really far away they look a little bit like hearts…”

“Do you have a warrant for all this pancake slander? Because I wasn’t aware that you were the geometry police,” she poured the last of the batter into the pan before piling up more dishes. “The proportions in my paintings can speak to that,” He pointed to his latest work in progress leaning against the wall, its newest layer drying in the spring breeze which was fleeting past the rickety handles of the kitchen windows. “I’m glad Picasso came and went when he did, poor man’d be facing some real competition if he was still around,” setting down his warm brew in front of him as he dug into his - what was now - brunch, she continued to tantalise him. “Are you mocking my curvaceous abstract cockroach? It actually came to me in a dream once,”

“Matthew, you did not just use the adjective ‘curvaceous’ in regards to an insect,” she chuckled, “but a dream? Really?” She pressed on, wondering, one, why he was dreaming about the revolting beasties and, two, whether she should leave him while she still could. “No, I lied, I just saw your face and felt inspired,” he winked. “Hurtful,” she scoffed. “All the artistic recognition is getting to your head, fame changed you Gube,”

“What’s a man without his roach?” A fake western accent glossing his words as he made a gesture of stroking a bug between his hands made you throw your head back in laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned, a roach-less man!” She chimed in, sounding almost as Texan as he did, making it his turn to laugh.

They ate in a serene silence, aside from Matthew’s odd compliments to the chef, both enjoying the view from opposite sides of the kitchen counter.  “So, aside from finishing that horrid thing,” she tilted her head in the direction of his painting, “what’s on the agenda for the one, and the only, Salvador Dali, today?” Matthew breathed out a laugh in response to her comparison. “Would you still love me if I grew out my moustache like his?”

“Bold of you to assume I love you even without the moustache,” A false and dramatic look of hurt found its way onto his face as she teasingly blew him a kiss from where she stood at the sink. “Anyway, now that you’ve completely destroyed my self confidence and broken my tiny, fragile heart, to answer your question… You are, actually,” he spun around on his bar stool. A sea of scarlet rose up her neck and made a home in her cheeks at his simple remark. “Well… I’m glad, because you’ve been at the top of my ’To Do’ list for a while now.”

She placed their cups in the sink and made her way over to where he sat, the seat of the stool resembling a bottle cap. “Is that so?” He smirked, now wearing the same shade of blush she was, as she stood between his knees, letting her hands snake up around his neck. “Mhm,” she gently planted her lips on his, “and you’re one thing I’m not going to procrastinate on getting done,” 

“You’re killing me, Y/N,” he breathed against her mouth. “You’ve always wanted you be a ghost, haven’t you?” She felt him smile against her as her lips glided over his. She placed one hand, still warm from the coffee it had been cradling, on his chest while the other inattentively played with the wiry tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck. The effect she had on him hadn’t changed with time, even after two years, she realised, his racing heartbeat evident beneath her palm.

This time, when their lips met, it was slightly more desperate, the need for one another gushing from both of them. She captured his bottom lip beneath hers, gently biting down before drawing back for air. Matthew gazed at her devotedly, eyebrows furrowing together when she kissed him again. While her tongue traced over his lips, enchanting him, his hands travelled down to her thighs, gripping each of them firmly before standing up and lifting her onto the counter. Their lips separated with a small smack as she gasped at the contrast in temperature between the granite and her skin. His nose skimmed hers when he made his way back down along the same path he had travelled earlier that morning, this time, unbuttoning the remainder of the shirt she wore, the heavenly sounds she was making leaving him in a trance. He adored seeing her this way, unguarded and sinking in his touch.  “You’re sensational, Matthew,” she sighed, tugging at his hair and craning her neck back to allow him more access. He nipped at the column of her throat, smiling to himself at the comment. She had no clue what she did to him. “Angel, I don’t often get dessert after breakfast, but do you think you can make it happen for me today?”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

We Dream in the Dark, for the Most Part

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Jason is in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when suddenly the lights go out, leaving him in darkness. An instinctive chill runs down his spine, only to be replaced with annoyance. Of course. Beyond the shower spray, he can hear Lian shriek in fear, followed by Roy muttering curses.

Jason sighs. “Roy?” he calls.

“Handling it!”

It was a grueling patrol, but Jason is relieved to be home. He missed having Roy by his side tonight, but their usual babysitter, Mrs. Peterson from next door, came down with pneumonia yesterday and canceled. She doesn’t seem to have any idea that her neighbors are vigilantes, but they pay her enough that she doesn’t ask. Lian is coloring at the coffee table while Jason toes off his boots, leaving them at the front door. She’s wearing her fluffy Stitch pajamas, which she’s been practically living in for the last week and a half. “Hey, princess.” Jason drops a kiss on top of her head as he passes. “Where’s your dad?” “In the kitchen. He’s playing with the electricity again.” “Oh, good. Because, you know, I was actually hoping our place would explode, just to spice things up.” Lian giggles. “Has he fed you yet?” She shakes her head, her black pigtails swinging back and forth. “Nope. But he promised me special sushi if I cleaned up all my books.” Jason will never understand Lian’s passion for her “special sushi,” which is just deli ham slathered in strawberry yogurt and rolled up like a spring roll from hell. Jason gets nauseated just thinking about it, but the kid loves the stuff. “And did you clean up?” Lian points over at the bookshelf against the wall. They don’t have a huge apartment by any means, but Jason insisted on dedicating an entire wall to his books. That was one of the conditions when Roy first asked Jason to move in with him and Lian. It took weeks of finagling to convince Jason to relinquish a small section of the bookshelf for Lian’s picture books, which are indeed all in their right places. “Then it looks like you’ve earned your sushi, little miss. I’m gonna shower first and then I’ll make it for you, alright?” “I can make it by myself.” Jason snorts. “After what happened last time? I don’t think so.” It was his own fault for thinking a five-year-old could prepare her own food. It took a solid hour to scrub the yogurt stains out of the carpet. Jason pokes his head in the kitchen on his way to the bathroom. “Tell me you’re not burning the building down.” “Okay, then I’m not burning the building down,” Roy says around the screwdriver trapped between his teeth. He stands in front of what was once a light switch, tinkering with something that he most definitely should not be tinkering with, but Jason is picking his battles today.

“I’m not going to bother telling you that you’re on your second strike with the landlord. If he has to come up here again, I’m not defending you.” “You know what I miss? The old days when people would greet each other by saying things like, ‘hi, sweetie, how was your day?’ ‘Oh, it was lovely, darling. How about a kiss after spending hours apart and missing each other dearly?’ ‘Babe, it’s like you read my mind!’ You know, stuff like that?” Jason arches an eyebrow. “I’ve got mobster blood caked in my hair. Still want a hello kiss?” “Not really, no. Go shower.” “Try not to blow a fuse in the meantime, please.” Roy salutes with his screwdriver. “Aye, aye, captain.” Jason goes to the bathroom and relishes in the feeling of peeling off his armor and the bodysuit underneath, every layer soaked with sweat and blood. It’s a good thing his Red Hood getup is all dark colors, or he’d have scarred Lian for life ten times over already. He turns the shower knob as hot as it’ll go, letting his muscles slowly unravel under the spray. He takes his time scrubbing off the blood and dirt, whistling some shitty pop song that Dick paid Barbara to blast through the comms all. Night. Long. Jason has plans to add that to his repertoire of torture techniques if he ever needs some extra edge. It’s definitely effective. Jason is in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when suddenly the lights go out, leaving him in darkness. An instinctive chill runs down his spine, only to be replaced with annoyance. Of course. Beyond the shower spray, he can hear Lian shriek in fear, followed by Roy muttering curses. Jason sighs. “Roy?” he calls. “Handling it!” Another sigh. This is what he gets for leaving Roy alone. It’s Jason’s own fault, really. He quickly rinses the shampoo from his hair and leaves the bathroom, and towel wrapped around his waist. He navigates the pitch black apartment and finds Roy lighting a match in the kitchen. He’s got Lian tucked in one arm. “What did I say?” Jason asks. “I know, I know—” “I said not to blow a fuse. That was your one job.” “Technically, I didn’t blow a fuse. I just overloaded the circuit and cut off the electricity for the whole building.” Jason smacks himself in the forehead. “Wonderful.” Remind him again why he’s in love with this man? “I’m sure it’ll be fixed in no time.” “You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes.” “You’re overreacting. It’s just a little blackout.” “We have ice cream in the freezer.” “I’ll buy more.” Jason runs a hand through his wet hair. “You’re killing me, babe. Again.” “It’s just one night without power, right? I’m sure it’ll come back on in the morning.” He bounces Lian a little, who’s got her face buried in Roy’s neck. Poor thing is terrified of the dark. “What do you think, pumpkin? You think you can be brave for one little night in the dark?” “I don’t like it. It’s scary.” “I know it is, sweetheart. But do you want to know a secret?” He leans in close to her ear, mock-whispering, “Jaybird over here is afraid of the dark too.” Lian looks at Jason with wide eyes. “Really?” Roy nods. “Yep. But you know what? He’s so brave and strong that he overcame that fear and now it hardly bothers him anymore. Do you think you can be brave like that?” “I can be super brave.” “That’s my girl. Not, sit here for a minute, ‘kay?” He sets her down on the arm of the sofa. The match has fizzled out by now, leaving them in complete darkness. “I know I have some scented candles around here somewhere. Dinah keeps getting them as gifts and pushes them on me when she doesn’t like them.” Jason’s eyes widen. “Wait, watch out for the—” Roy trips with a shout, glass shattering as he falls. “—coffee table.” Roy just groans in response. “Hang on, let me get a light.” Jason makes his way to the drawer they keep the emergency flashlight in. He turns on the beam to show Roy on the floor, surrounded by glass shards and clutching his leg. There are several small cuts peppering his knee like he crawled on a beach made of broken bottles. Jason gasps. “Oh my god, Roy! You broke Lian’s crayons!” Roy flips him off, angling his hand so Lian can’t see. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Jason helps him up and hands him the flashlight. “Lian, honey, will you help him get to the couch? I need to put some clothes on.” And he’s almost positive there’s another flashlight somewhere in Roy’s nightstand. They’re going to need all the light they can get. Jason gets dressed and retrieves the flashlight, plus one of Lian’s Disney princess glow sticks. When he returns, Roy is on the couch with his leg propped up on what remains of their coffee table. Lian is shining the flashlight on her tiny first-aid kit which Kori gave her last Christmas. She sifts through her collection of band-aids. “One to ten?” “Barely a two,” Roy says. “I already dug the glass out, and none were deep enough to need stitches.” Jason checks him over anyway, just to be sure. He wipes away the blood and applies some ointment over the cuts. He turns to Lian when he’s finished. “Can I trust you to finish this up while I make dinner?” She nods enthusiastically. Perfect. Lian can keep herself busy plastering Roy in Hello Kitty bandages, and Jason will have time to figure out what the hell they’re doing, food-wise. “How do you expect to make dinner without electricity?” Roy asks, reading his mind yet again. “What, did you never have to eat cold leftover pizza in your million-dollar mansion growing up? Weird.” He dodges the pillow Roy throws his way, laughing. “Those jokes don’t count when you also grew up in a million-dollar mansion.” Thirty minutes later and the three of them are sitting on the couch, Roy and Jason eating cold mushroom casserole while Lian enjoys her ham and yogurt. Once you get over the temperature difference, cold casserole turns out to be just as tasty as hot casserole. Gordon Ramsey should take notes. Jason managed to track down the candles Roy was talking about earlier and set them in various places around the living room, lighting the room in a dim glow. It’s not perfect lighting by any means—not even good lighting, really, but at least no one will be falling into another coffee table anytime soon. Roy’s knee is covered in Hello Kitty band-aids, some of which are in spots that weren’t even cut up by the glass. Roy doesn’t seem to mind. Jason took a picture for potential blackmail reasons. “I’m bored,” Lian says after a while. “You could always go to bed,” Roy suggests, “given that your bedtime was fifteen minutes ago but your daddies are nice enough to let you stay up this long.” “That was nice of us,” Jason agrees. “I think we’ve earned a quiet night to ourselves.” Lian pouts. She grabs Jason’s arm, clinging to his bicep like a koala. “But it’s dark in my room.” “It’s dark in there every night.” “It’s really dark tonight. Can I stay here with you instead?” Her eyes are big and innocent, perfectly disguising the mischief lurking within. This girl could be a successful con artist one day. (Not that Jason or Roy will ever let that happen. She’s going to grow up and become a veterinarian or something equally harmless.) Roy and Jason meet eyes, having a silent conversation over Lian’s head. Finally, Roy sighs. “Fine. You can stay up with us a little longer, but only because of the blackout, okay? Don’t go thinking that this trick is going to work tomorrow night.” Lian claps her hands, bouncing in her seat. “Can I have coffee?” “Absolutely not.” She isn’t deterred in the slightest. “This is gonna be so fun! We can stay up all night long, even past midnight and three o’clock which is when the ghosts come out.” “Ghosts, huh?” Jason says. “Yeah, Aunt Stephanie told me all about it! Three o’clock is when the witching hour happens and witches and ghosts come out like Bloody Mary and Freddie Cougar and they call come into your house and walk around but you can only see them if you’re awake, which I’m gonna be because I’m not even tired, I could stay up all night long and for a million, bazillion years, and—” She lasts seven minutes. Lian is fast asleep now with her head in Roy’s lap, her tiny feet dangling off the arm of the sofa. Jason drapes a blanket over her, kissing her on the forehead. He’s careful not to jostle Roy’s bandaged leg as he takes a seat beside him, putting his arm around Roy’s shoulders. “Well, I’m fucking exhausted.” “It’s cool if you want to go to bed,” Roy says. “I don’t mind sticking around here with Lian until the power comes back on.” “Nah, it’s fine. I like it better in here, anyway.” In here, where the light is. Roy doesn’t comment on the hidden meaning that he definitely catches on to, and Jason loves him for it. He just kisses Jason’s cheek, settling against his side. Jason doesn’t mention the darkness thing often. Or at all. After all, grown men don’t get scared of the dark—especially when they live in a place like Gotham and were raised in a literal cave. But if Lian insists on having the hallway light on in addition to the night light next to her bed, then Jason isn’t about to discourage her. Roy never says a word about it. Every night he keeps the door to his and Jason’s bedroom cracked open just enough so a sliver of hallway light floods in, and it’s good for both of them, really. Jason feels safer with the light on, and they both feel safer being able to hear every creak and draft in the apartment, falling asleep knowing that nothing will sneak up on them. Even when Jason was living on his own, post-resurrection, he always kept a lamp on when he went to sleep in whichever safehouse he was squatting in that night. Back before he had a place to call home. On especially bad nights, he would turn on the lights in every single room, even the one in the microwave. Only then could he sleep soundly. He can’t exactly do that now, but he doesn’t need to. Whenever his head gets too heavy to bear, he’ll simply wrap his arms around Roy and fall back asleep to the sound of Roy’s heart beating under his ear. He falls back asleep in minutes. Jason isn’t entirely sure what caused the light issue in the first place. Sometimes he can’t remember if it arose before or after he was adopted by Bruce. Other times he’s sure it’s lingering trauma from the coffin, from waking up in pitch blackness six feet underground. No bearings, no sense of what was happening or where he was. The only thing in there with him was the thick, cloying darkness on every side of him. Jason shivers just thinking about it. “We should get her a new night light,” he says. “Battery powered, not a plug-in. It would be a good investment if you ever try destroying our electricity again.” Roy hums. “We can pick one up tomorrow. I need to take her clothes shopping anyway. And it might be a good idea to have a couple for the living room and bathroom so we don’t have a repeat of tonight.” “Good idea.” God, Jason’s craving a cigarette right now. Every nerve in his body urges him to get one and soothe the anxiety buzzing in his brain, but he has a rule against smoking in the apartment or anywhere near Lian. He’d settle for a beer instead, whatever keeps the buzzing at bay, but he doesn’t drink at home either out of respect for Roy’s sobriety. He’s stuck. Roy must notice Jason’s twitching fingers because he reaches into his pocket, careful not to wake Lian as he pulls out a stick of nicotine gum. “Here.” Jason unwraps the gum and shoves it in his mouth. He takes a deep breath in as he chews, letting it out slowly. It takes the edge off some, but not completely. Still, it’s better than nothing. “You’re just carrying these on you now?” "Came in handy, didn't it?" “And I thought Bruce was the king of being prepared for everything.” Jason straightens the wrapper until it’s flat like a card. He holds it over the nearest candle until it catches, watching the flame consume the paper, eating away at its edges. He blows it out just before it gets too close to his fingers. “When I was a kid,” he says after a minute, “my mom and I used to light candles like these. The heat would get turned off pretty often since she was usually too high to remember what day it was, let alone when the bills needed to be paid. But whenever it happened, she would send me to the store with a couple dollars and I’d buy a bag of marshmallows. We’d roast them over the candles and pretend we were camping.” “That sounds nice.” “It was. I mean, now I realize that it’s actually really fucking sad that we had to resort to candles ‘cause my mom wasted all her cash on drugs and couldn’t pay the heating bill. But at the time, it was nice. It’s one of the few good memories I have of that time.” He feels more than sees Roy’s fingers lacing through his own, clasping their hands together. “I was telling the truth earlier, you know. You’re brave and strong and badass all the way.” Jason snorts. “Even if I get freaked out every time the lights go out?” Roy doesn’t laugh with him. “Yeah, even then. And you know why?” He rests his head on Jason’s shoulder, lets Jason feel his warmth. “Because of all the things to be afraid of, you picked the one that can be fixed by just turning the lights on. Once you do that, there’s nothing left in the world that can scare you. And that’s pretty damn badass if you ask me.”

[totallynormalfanficauthor]

The Visitor - Chapter 6 (Final)

Short Summary: Jack finds Sally outside his home, so he invites her inside

Pairings: Jack/Sally

——

Chapter Six

Just Friends... For now

"You've hardly touched your soup, Sally. Not hungry?" Finkelstein's voice came from across the table. She looked up.

"Oh. Um, no. Not really." She released the note and folded her hands on the table. "My, uh, stomach doesn't feel too well. May I be excused, Doctor?"

"Hmm" he grumbled. "Alright. Fine. Go ahead, get some rest." The end of his sentence was muffled by the spoon in his mouth. Sally smiled and stood up, thanking him as she headed for the ramp in the other room. But his voice stopped her for a moment before she could get there. "-I'll be up to check on you in a little while, so don't think about sneaking out again. Alright?"

She nodded her reply- although she didn't really mean it- and finally headed up the ramp and into her bedroom.

Once there, Sally sat down on her bed and held back a deep sigh. She debated on what to do as she glanced at the window. It was a bit soon, but would it really hurt to get there a little bit early? Afterall, it might do her good to relax and calm her nerves before Jack arrives.

She hopped off the bed and trotted up to the window. Sally observed the scene below her- it was a gorgeous evening. The breeze was soft, and she could tell from the sky that the sun would be setting soon. It seemed now would be a fine time to head out.

Clicking the window open, Sally flung her left leg over sill, and soon the rest of her, until she was falling quickly onto the golden leaf covered pavement below.

When she opened her eyes, the world around her was dark until her vision finally focused. Blinking, Sally sat up. Her right arm was barely hanging on by a thread, and her left leg had come apart at her thigh. She quickly stuffed the leaves back in and sewed herself up, and, using the side of the building to balance herself, she stood. After hesitating for a moment, her trip to the spiral hill had begun.

——

The pumpkin sun had barely begun to go down by the time she got there. Sally approached the withered gate. She found her hands slightly shaky, which was odd. Perhaps she was more nervous to speak with Jack than she originally thought.

A breeze swept through her hair and around her neck as she passed through, giving her chills.

Not much had changed about this place since the last time she was here, which had been quite awhile ago. It was nice to be back. Fog still covered the gravestones, moss lined the ground by her feet, the atmosphere was still creepy, yet soothing. It was a nice feeling.

Sally's eyes scanned the area around her. As they glanced around, her gaze found its way to the hill. A tall figure was standing at the top.

Jack.

He was already here. It startled her a little bit- she really was expecting to have arrived before him. But seeing as he was already waiting on her, there was no point in hesitating any longer. She approached the hill from the side, quietly, waiting for him to notice her. He must have been able to hear the crunch of the leaves under her feet, because after one step closer the skeleton suddenly turned to her direction, spotting her immediately. He looked a little surprised, but forced a smile anyway. She smiled back. Stepping a tad closer to her, he greeted, "Horrible evening, Sally"

"Horrible evening, Jack"

He nodded to her and finally took a seat on the hill, motioning next to him. "Please, some sit."

Sally did as asked and started her way up, sitting down a few spaces beside him. She awkwardly forced a smile as well. Her heart raced inside her chest. Finally, it was time... the conversation she had been waiting for. And there was no way out of it now. But as nerve wracking as it was, she couldn't wait to hear what he had to say.

"I'm glad you could make it.", Jack started.

"Oh, yes. I am too.."

The skeleton sat back a little, Sally noticed him avoiding her gaze. "I hope it wasn't any trouble? I know this was kind of short notice.."

"No, no. Not at all."

"Well, that's a relief...I-"

"Arf!"

The bark of a dog sounded to their left, cutting him off. Sally recognized it right away: Zero. And when she looked, sure enough, the ghostly pup had come up beside them, holding what must have been one of Jack's ribs in his mouth.

"Oh, Zero! Thanks, boy." Jack took the rib back and popped it into his shirt, then patted the dog on the head. Zero licked his hand before yawning, turning and flying away, barely acknowledging Sally. She watched him go with a smile.

"He's a very good dog..."

"Yes, he is."

"Did you train him?"

"I did."

"Well..." She folded her legs. "...you did a very good job."

"Thank you. Zero is a fast learner, so it wasn't too difficult."

"I see..."

They both grew silent. The ragdoll shuffled in her seat, unsure if it was because of the cold, uncomfortable ground beneath her or from the awkward tension rapidly growing between the two. The wind continued to whistle past them, and Sally gazed up at the large moon. She brought up all her courage, finally ready to finally ask what's been on her mind.

"...Jack..?"

"Yes?"

"...." she took a deep breath. "....was there a reason you asked me here..? Something you wanted to...discuss?" Her words came out a bit shaky, but Jack didn't seem to notice.

Sally watched his posture stiffen, his hands nervously tugging at the ground. But it was hard to read the expression on his face. "Ah..yes, of course..." he cleared his throat before continuing. "...I assume you may already have a bit of an idea on... what this is about?"

Her heart thumped, "I might.."

"I thought maybe..." Jack sighed, finally tilting his head up to make eye contact with her. She shivered as his sockets met hers. "Sally, you know that, you and I have been good friends for quite some time. And I do enjoy spending time with you, really. You listen and understand me better than anyone else. So please, understand that I care about you." He paused momentarily, looking at his friend. Sally's eyes were wide, her cheeks slightly pink. She liked the way this sounded, and hoped it was going where she thought it was. He continued.

"I think that...sometimes, when we get caught up in the moment, we're not...thinking properly. Or at least, I know I wasn't thinking properly. And it doesn't help when, you don't fully understand the way you feel. Don't get me wrong, I did mean everything I said about you that night.. but, I guess, what I'm trying to say is that..."

Yes...!

"...I'm sorry, Sally"

....what...?

"I shouldn't have kissed you. It was wrong of me. I'd never want.. to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. So I sincerely apologize if I did."

Sally felt something inside of her break. He was....apologizing? She could feel the frown making its way onto her lips. Perhaps she got her hopes up too soon... but Jack wasn't finished talking yet.

"When I saw you in the morning I could tell... something was off by the way you were behaving. That's why I wanted to speak with you this evening. I can assure you, Sally, the, ah.. Kiss, it didn't mean anything. I'd never want you to think bad of me... and, really, I view you as nothing more than a dear friend of mine- of course. But I'm hoping, now that this has been cleared up, it will make things a little less... awkward, heh. Wouldn't you agree?"

The skeleton smiled a bit as he looked at her, but his expression quickly faltered.

"...Sally..?"

He tilted his head. The ragdoll wasn't smiling. She stared downwords, eyeing the ground. Her hands were shaky, and her breath was coming out slow and shallow. It felt like the world around her was shattering. Jack's words were replaying inside her head, tearing a piece of her heart each time they did.

It...meant....nothing...?

All hopes for this moment were gone. Of course it meant nothing...she suddenly felt ridiculous for ever thinking otherwise. Deep down inside she knew this would happen. But it still hurt. A lot.

"..Sally...? Are you... crying?"

"What?" She lifted her head suddenly, reaching up to slide a finger under her eye. Sure enough, it was wet. Somehow the tears must have slipped out without her noticing. She quickly wiped them away then dried her hands on her dress. She did her best to collect herself, not wanting to appear too upset- although, even she knew it was a little late for that.

"N-no, I'm not. I'm fine. And, yes, of course. I... I agree with you, Jack.." She did her best to force a smile. Jack didn't look convinced.

"Are you... sure?"

"What? Of course I am. I-I think that, we both just, as you said.... not thinking straight. You never made me uncomfortable, I think I was, was just confused.." She managed to reply through wobbly lips. But her voice cracked at her next sentence, "Of course I...I only view you as a...as a friend as well. I mean that's what we are, right? It would p-probably be better if we just forgot about all of this anyways.."

"I suppose so..." Jack looked at her, frowning with a puzzled expression. "Sally... please, what's the matter? You seem upset."

"I..." she thought for a moment. Should she...tell him? Tell him the truth? That she was actually in love with him and has been the whole time?

What's the point... he already said he only sees me as a friend. What, am I trying to get rejected even harder?

"...I'm just tired Jack, really. It's been a long day. And I think... I got something in my eye. That's all."

Jack didn't seem too convinced, but didn't argue this time. "Oh... alright. If you say so."

"I really do agree with you, I promise. And I'm... I'm glad we were able to talk. I appreciate the, uh...c-clarification."

"Of course." The skeleton sat up a little, resting his hands on his knees. "I know it hasn't been long, but I'm sure things will be back to normal between us now."

"Yes..."

They both fell silent again. Jack was watching her quietly, while Sally stared at the ground in front of her. She was still holding back tears and trying to think of anything besides the pit of emptiness and despair that was growing quickly inside her stomach, torn open by the pieces of her broken heart.

"Jack...?"

"Hm?"

"Can I...ask you one more thing?"

"Of course"

She hesitated before boldly but genuinely asking, "..if it meant nothing, then, why did you kiss me?"

She found the courage to look up at him. He tapped his finger on his chin, eyes half closed in thought. After a moment, he sighed.

"Truthfully? I don't... really know." Their eyes met once again, a sorrowful glance. "Like I said... I don't think I was thinking correctly. I felt awfully... strange that night. I don't really know what it was that had come over me. But, I am terribly sorry, Sally. I'd never want to-"

"No, Jack, please. Don't apologize. It's okay." She let out another shuddering breath. ".. thank you for inviting me here, it was nice to speak with you."

"Of course, thank you for joining me."

Sally didn't respond, but gazed up at the moon. Another year rolled down her cheek, but in the darkness, Jack didn't seem to notice. He gazed at the sky as well.

"It's getting quite late.. perhaps we should get back."

"...that's okay, you go. I think I'd like to stay here for a little while longer."

There was concern in his reply, "are you sure? It gets quite chilly out here at night, and most likely darker too."

"That's alright."

"-if you come with me, I'd be happy to walk you home"

She had to bite her lip. God, what was this man trying to do? Of course, yes, give her another reason to remember why she fell so deep in love with him in the first place. Such a gentleman. And yet he broke her heart without even realizing what he had done.

"I'll find my way home later. It's okay."

"...well, if you're sure."

The pumpkin king stood up, brushing his suit off. He stepped past her and began heading down the hill. He called back his goodbye, but Sally did not turn to face him.

"We'll talk soon, Sal. Have a horrible night."

"Horrible night, Jack. Sleep well."

The only response that came was the crunching of leaves under Jack's feet and he crept down the hill and back through the graveyard. Sally turned to watch just as he went through the gate, and waved her final farewell. As soon as his figure disappeared down the trail, she couldn't hold herself back any longer.

Sally collapsed down onto the hill in sobs, the tears rolling down her stitched cheeks one after the other. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth in an attempt to muffle her cries. Her chest ached, and her hands and arms shook. This was an overwhelming sadness she had never felt before: absolute heartbreak.

Sally had known in the back of her mind the entire time that the chance of this happening was greater than she liked. But what was she to do about it? If Jack only wanted to be friends with her, then that's that. She was just going to have to accept it, as much as it pained her.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she wiped her eyes again, trying to calm herself down. Her weeping began to slow as she collected herself. But she was still sad.

'What am I supposed to do now...?' she wondered. Should she just... give up? Forget about her feelings for him entirely..? Perhaps that would be better... but, no. No.

Jack's words rang inside her head.

'I felt awfully... strange that night. I don't really know what it was that had come over me.'

Hm....

She sniffled. Felt strange... doesn't know what came over him... , something about that seemed oddly familiar.

Finally pulling herself together, Sally sat the rest of the way up again, staring into the night sky as the stars twinkled around her. The tears kept falling slowly, her nose sniffling quietly. She couldn't stop thinking about what her friend had said to her. Something about it seemed... not right. What did he mean he 'felt weird' ?

'But he told me he only sees me as a friend... this doesn't... make sense..' She shook her head. "Oh, Jack. You puzzle me."

Wiping her eyes for the final time, Sally stood up. The wind passed calmly through her yarn hair. She decided then that, all she could really do was go home. Go home, and sleep. Get the rest that she needed. And when she woke up in the morning... nothing would be different, would it? She would sneak out, see Jack again most likely, and everything would be back to how it was before. But maybe this... maybe this was a good thing. Despite everything that had happened that night, the pain she had felt and the tears she had cried, Sally still felt something.. else inside her heart, after what Jack had said. Like one tiny, tiny flame still burning at the bottom of a fireplace that had supposedly been put out. She couldn't help but think, and hope, with all of her phantom heart, that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance her and Jack could end up together, even if it seemed so far from possible in this moment.

...

...

And she was right.

——

...

Sally always thought Skellington manor was a beautiful place. Jack's home, it was gorgeous on the inside and out. She always enjoyed being there, even if she hadn't gotten to visit very often as a good friend to the owner. Not that that mattered anymore.

Truth be told, she always felt at home around those parts. Even if it was hard for her to understand why. The energy it radiated was so oddly comforting. And it made her feel... happy. Perhaps it was a sign.

But had you told Sally years before that she would end up living within these walls? She may not have believed you.

But it was the truth.

It had taken a long time for Sally to get where she was now. But she was grateful for it, to be able to look back and think just how far she'd come. And it was worth the wait.

Sally often took time during her days and evenings, to relax on the soft furniture in her home and reflect on things in the past, just letting her mind wonder. And this is where she was now. She leaned her head back, drawing in a nice, long breath. The dim evening sunlight was shining through a window nearby, reflecting brightly off the golden ring on her finger.

She looked down, feeling a stir in her arms. The little bundle she was holding shifted over slightly, turning in it's sleep. She smiled. Moving the blanket away from its face, she gave her baby a kiss on the cheek. It wiggled a little, making a tiny grab motion with it's skeletal hand, but continued to snooze soundly. Sally sighed blissfully, closing her eyes. She felt content.

"Sally?"

She opened her eyes. Jack was walking into the room, his skull tilted and his hands behind his back. "Ah- there you are. I've been looking for you." He walked over and sat down on the couch next to her, leaning over to give her a long kiss on the forehead. She giggled a little at that.

"Yes. Is there something you need?"

"No. I just...wanted to see you."

Jack leaned over and placed his arm around her, holding her close. She leaned on his shoulder and yawned.

Reflecting back on how far she'd come with this skeleton man— that was her favorite. Even after all they had been through, Sally wouldn't have guessed that they'd actually end up together. And yet here she was. Holding the little skeleton baby in her arms, and wearing a matching ring on her finger. And she still loved him just as much as she always had, if not more.

...

It would be hard for Sally to forget that one moment. The moment when her world came crashing down, her heart split into two. When Jack said those horrible words to her-, "I view you as nothing more than a dear friend of mine". She thought he had meant it. And for a while, Jack did too. But slowly, with the more time that passed, he discovered: he did not.

In the end, it didn't matter what happened in the past, did it? Because the important thing was? They are together now. Together, happy, and in love. And Jack and Sally know, that they always will be, now and forever

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees 13: Spirit

CW: Slavery, depression, less than great self-image, ghosts and the discussion thereof, multiple whumpees, aftermath of abuse, blink and you miss it references to noncon, catholicism (brief)

Tag List:  @bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @icannotweave  @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101 @adventuresofacreesty @arlennil @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @lumpofwhump @thatsthewhump @pinkdiamondprince @shameless-whumper  @whump-only @infested-with-bloodv2 @kiretto-laorentze @eatyourdamnpears @whumpzone @bluebadgerwhump

How many references can I fit into one whump story on the internet? And yes, Galo’s ass is canonically phat.

Masterlist

They had never discussed it, really, never quite put it into words, but when they went to bed there were common configurations they all slept in. Evan almost always insisted on sleeping with his back to the wall, Sasha needed the edge of the bed so she didn’t wake them when she got up in the morning, and Greyson was almost never in the middle so he slept just in front of Sasha. Lilah and Nyla would take turns in the middle, occasionally switching with Evan or Sasha if they were hurting. 

Evan was hurting, now, his leg making the journey all the way to the wall a lost effort, so he was in the center. Lilah curled up in his arms, so Nyla’s back was to the wall. In theory, then, Greyson should be at Evan’s back, and Sasha at his back, and yes, that had been how they’d slept the night before.

But that night, Greyson had insisted that Sasha lay between himself and Evan, knowing he’d been weirdly adamant about it and that his family was concerned. But he knew, very well, that he would not be able to sleep that night, and would need to move out of bed without waking them.

And, indeed, the sliver of moonlight that managed to find its way in through the tiny rectangular window at the very top of the room landed on Greyson, wide awake, propped up on one elbow. His tired eyes (and god, he was so tired, but not in a way that craved sleep) surveyed his family, their soft bodies, their loose hair, the gentle curves of their hands.

He sat, apart from them.

Honestly, he’d been apart from them for a long while. 

He could ask for no firmer proof of that than the events of that very day. Lilah, little Lilah, who had clung to his arm, to Nyla’s skirts, to Evan’s vests, who had hid behind their bodies from Mistress Bethany’s wrath, now bravest of them all. But should he be surprised? She and Evan were always thick as thieves, didn’t it make sense that she would collect some of his bolder habits? She had always been playful, among them, was that something that she’d extended towards free people? Was this new? In small part, Greyson felt like he should know.

In large part, Greyson didn’t feel a damn thing.

He knew he had, once. He remembered feelings, could even summon the ghosts of them, as he looked over his family. Fondness. An aching longing that stretched over his skin. He’d felt something at his Mistress’s grave, though he couldn’t summon even the phantom of such emotions now.

Lilah was brave, standing proud before the man who, by all rights, should terrify her. Evan was calming down, lashing out less, barely lashing out at all, really. Happier. Easier. The defensive hunch so characteristic of his shoulders was slowly lowering, so slowly Greyson hadn’t even noticed until he looked and found Evan had practically no hunch at all. Nyla, she was happier, unwinding sliver by tiny sliver, but she was. She’d allowed herself to be gently corralled into bed, even if it had been backed by an order from their master. She was willing, just barely, to let down her guard, even if it meant an increased chance of imperfection. She did not, by Greyson’s observation, seem so petrified of imperfection, anymore. And Sasha, Greyson ran a thumb very gently over the skin of her upper arm, Sasha was going outside, she was smiling, her eyes had lost the permanently watery quality to them. She was more openly affectionate, freer with touch.

What was Greyson?

Greyson was the same as Greyson had always been. Quiet. Thoughtless. Hollow. The shell of a man who’d broken and been left to gather dust where he shattered. 

His family was growing, healing, but an inanimate thing cannot heal. He was beyond repair. An old plaything that had been used dry, and when opened found empty inside.

If someone were to take a knife against him, carve open his skin and split the seam, would they find anything? They’d find blood, oh yes, he knew that he could still bleed. But beneath his skin and blood, would they find bones? Beneath where his ribs should sit, would anyone find a heart? Did he still have lungs, were there entrails to be lifted? Or would they find empty air and still, placid blackness? A broken papier mache balloon, a wrinkling, decaying pumpkin with its insides carved out.

He took his hand from Sasha’s skin. It didn’t feel right to touch her as he thought such things.

Three decades. Perhaps only two and a half. The years...they were blurry. And Greyson wasn’t naturally inclined to keep track of the time. He’d spent more of his life with his Mistress than he had without her. Was he even good, for anything else? He knew other men his age didn’t look like him, like they were faded and falling apart. She’d had every right to get bored of him, uncomely as he was.

His thoughts were all over the place, slipping and sliding this way and that. He should go to sleep. It was late. He was tired. God he was so tired. He laid down. His eyes stayed wide. He forced them shut. Attempting to relax made his eyes open again. This was pointless.

He leaned back up on his elbow again, looked at his family. The fondness there was growing colder. Not in general, just for right then. Would he go cold in the larger sense, though? Was a thing like him even truly capable of actual, meaningful love?

He got out of bed.

The bed fit four better, anyway. At the very least it was what they were all used to, though they’d all adapted to the company of their fifth quickly, since Master Galo.

Greyson wished he understood him. He doubted he ever would.

But that wish, that doubt, they were glancing, shallow things. Sort of like how everything in Greyson’s life felt incredibly shallow, like an optical illusion. His whole person, his whole life, he was just an illusion. Presenting the facade of depth but if you reached out to touch him, you would find your perception all wrong.

The basement was too dark to see in, but that was fine. He knew where the stairs were, where the rail was, he’d walked them multiple times a day, every day, for three decades. Or perhaps just two and a half.

The main floor was lighter, distant street lights and the moon curving their way in through the dark, casting long shadows where the blackness did not already swallow them whole. It was still dark, but Greyson did not want to turn any lights on here, either. He could navigate the darkness fine. Was it because his own soul was like this house? Kindred spirits, filled with lonely shadows in the black.

But, that was strange. Light cast against the familiar portrait at the end of the hall, like someone had left a light on in a nearby room. Greyson approached, the lack of glasses making the details fuzzy but he certainly knew what he was looking at. He peered around the corner and came to a halt.

The door to the den was open, which was hardly noteworthy in itself, but lamplight spilled out of it, yellow and warm. The sight settled a coldness in Greyson’s chest, whatever he had left in there frosting over. There had only ever been a single lamp in that room, and Mistress had knocked it over when she collapsed, that day before she died. Greyson had picked up the larger pieces and vacuumed the smaller, had emptied the vacuum’s basin into the same bag as the larger pieces and lampshade and set the bag outside for the garbagemen to collect.

But there was lamplight coming from the den.

Greyson felt numb. Numb, and cold, a churning pit of fear pounding at the glass his feet walked across, shadowy hands ready to swallow him whole as soon as the numbness broke. With each step towards that light, his body grew colder, colder, so by the time he reached the doorframe his whole body shivered violently.

The old, well-worn armchair was positioned so that it looked over the rest of the room, and would only require someone sitting in it to turn their head to look at the doorway. So he did not see her face, right away, just her dark, curly, slightly-frizzy hair that stressed her so, the fabric of her light blue nightgown over her arm and shoulder.

Slowly, she turned her neck and looked straight at him.

The numbness broke the moment their eyes met, Greyson’s hand snapping up to his mouth and his body convulsing, curling in on itself, with a hand to his stomach. This can’t be happening some part of him thought desperately.

“M-Mistress--”

“I’m barely in the ground and already your behavior’s gone to shit,” she snapped, in her voice, her voice. “Is that how I taught you to greet me? Do you think this is appropriate?”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, rushing forward, in front, to bend and kiss her hand but she stopped him two feet away.

“Kneel.”

He crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, elbows wedged between his spread knees and hands clasped out in front of him, head bowed and eyes staring wide and vacant at his shadow on the carpet.

“Up and about dressed like that. Disgusting.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hot tears against his forearms. He hadn’t cried from fear in...years. He’d forgotten he could.

“I heard you, you know,” she said, voice pitching low.

His eyes squeezed shut and he choked on a sob. “I’m sorry.”

“Think you can just go to my grave and say whatever you want?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Did you think ‘oh there won’t be any consequences, I’ll just do whatever I want’ like a little entitled rat?”

“Please, I’m sorry, Mistress, I’m sorry!”

“You like my nephew better than me, don’t you?”

“No, Mistress, I--”

“Liar. You only say that because you got caught in the act.”

“Please,” he blubbered, rabbit-pulsed and shaking apart on the carpet.

“You’re a disgrace, Greyson.”

“I’m sorry,” he wept, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry Mistress I’m sorry.”

--

Galo moved to a room at the front of the house, peering through the window, but yup, the driveway was still empty. Not that he had genuinely expected that to change overnight, but still, better to check. He yawned, stretched his hands up above his head, and went back to his room to grab his cell phone.

“Hi! My name is Galo Fotia, I scheduled to have a dumpster dropped off at my address two days ago, but it did not arrive that day or yesterday. I was--no, go ahead? ...Yeah, no, I absolutely understand that, sometimes things just get lost in the process. Yeah, yes please, I appreciate it.” Galo descended the stairs as he spoke, bare feet against the soft carpet. “No, it’s no problem, just, as soon as you’re able. I--” Galo stood straighter, something… off. “Mhm, yep, thanks a lot. Have a nice day now, bye!” he said, cutting the conversation a little shorter than he would’ve liked.

But he felt alarmed. And in this house of horrors, any bad vibes he got were very much worth listening to. He pocketed his phone and rolled his shoulders, ready to widen his stance and square himself to look as massive and menacing as possible if he found a threat. He made a beeline for the den, whatever signals his brain was giving him were leading him there, and blanched to find Greyson, of all people, there. Face down on his knees with clasped hands extended out. Wearing pajamas.

“Uh, Greyson?” Galo asked, anxiety spiking up at the full body flinch--really, more of a jolt--that came with Galo’s words. “You alright there dude?” He tried to keep the alarm out of his voice but was pretty sure he did not succeed at all. He moved to Greyson’s side, noticing how the man was kneeling pointed at the old armchair, and carefully went down on one knee, not wanting to spook him more.

Greyson was awake. Mouth-breathing, twitching, but he didn’t move for a long moment, not until Galo lightly placed his hand on Greyson’s back and gave a light, slow stroke downward. He heard Greyson swallow, and watched him slowly separate his fingers and press his palms to the floor. Galo moved a hand to Greyson’s front, helping him lift up to somewhat-sitting, and winced sympathetically at the dark shadows under his eyes and the dried tear-tracks there.

“Hey,” Galo said gently, leaving his hand on Greyson’s chest and continuing to pet up and down his back, “Ground control to Major Tom. What’s goin’ on here, dude?”

Greyson looked at him, then up at the armchair. His body trembled all over, then went still again under Galo’s palms. His lips cracked open but no sound came out, and Galo rubbed a circle into the back of his neck. “Take your time.”

“She was here,” Greyson stated, and fear crawled up Galo’s spine. Haha, that was fucking ominous.

“What do you mean by that, Greyson?” Galo asked, kind of proud at how his mental screaming only barely filtered into his tone.

“She. Mistress, she, she was here. Last night. The light was on and she was sitting here.”

“Okay,” Galo said, mentally adding the armchair to the list of things he would be throwing into the dumpster when it arrived. Actually, he might put it in the middle of the driveway and set it on fire. “Okay, that’s alarming.”

“She spoke to me,” Greyson whispered, lifting a knobby hand to his face and covering his mouth. “She--she was here. She was right here.”

“Right, right okay, Greyson, can you stand for me?” Galo asked, moving the hand on his back to under his elbow. Greyson nodded and Galo stood slowly, hands bracing Greyson and glad of it. His legs were shaky at best, and Greyson caught himself on Galo’s strong arms, body trembling and staggering.

“How long were you kneeling there?” Galo asked gently, waiting as Greyson winced through the pain of circulation returning to his lower body.

“I… at least half of the night--I didn’t sleep, Master.”

I can tell Galo thought with another glance at the bags under Greyson’s eyes. But oh, the thought of this poor man kneeling there for half the night, more, dawn sliding over his body as he continued to kneel in one of the worst rooms in the building…

“Okay,” Galo said, mostly to himself, “Okay, deep breaths. Greyson, do you maybe wanna go get dressed? I’ll get this all sorted out, don’t worry, but I think you might feel better if you do.”

Greyson nodded, because when did Greyson ever disagree with him, and Galo helped him down the steps. He kept an arm extended for Greyson to brace himself on all the way to the slaves’ room, and he knocked twice on the door. Nyla opened it with confused alarm, which turned into just-alarm when she caught sight of Greyson.

“Hey, weird developments in the night,” Galo said, looking at the spot just above Nyla’s head because her nightgown was very flimsy and pretty and he Was Not Looking, “Greyson’s kind of going through it. Could you all come up to the kitchen once you’re dressed?”

“Yes, Master,” Nyla said, glancing at him as she reached for Greyson, and Galo brought his arm forward to help Greyson along.

“Cool, excellent, let me know if Evan needs help with the stairs,” Galo said and rushed off. There were two wolves inside him: one that was absolutely flipping its shit about potential ghosts and one that was blushing about seeing Nyla in her nightgown and what was his life that these were the things warring for his attention? What was his life? Why was this his life?

Sasha was in the kitchen but nearly jumped out of her skin when he came in through a different door than he usually did.

“Hey, morning, weird things going on,” Galo said, bypassing his usual greeting. “Can you freeze bread dough? Or like, refrigerate it? Because uh, yeah, just, I don’t want your work to go to waste but I think today is a good day for us all to be outside.”

Galo reached up on top of the fridge and pulled down a nicely sized cooler. “And, in the spirit of being outside, like, all of today probably, would you please pack breakfast and a buncha fluids into here for me?”

Sasha took it with a nod, visibly befuddled. “Great, thanks, sorry to alarm you but some weird--I already used that adjective--just, stuff’s happening, okay? Stuff is happening that I think we would all prefer not to be happening aaaaand I’m gonna take care of it but I’m gonna take care of it outside.”

Sasha nodded again, wrapping the bread dough in saran wrap and setting it in the fridge.

Galo pulled out his phone and started googling. It turned out people could get dressed pretty quick here, though, because he’d barely saved two phone numbers to his notes app before the other four were entering the kitchen, dressed with pinched expressions. Evan was on his crutches with Lilah at his side, and Nyla had one of Greyson’s arms braced in both her hands. He was covering his mouth again.

“Great, cool, so, Greyson saw a ghost last night and I think we should all just have a nice day off outside.” Sasha’s head snapped towards Galo with wide eyes, dropping the bag of grapes into the cooler which, hey, of all the places they could be dropped. “Yeah, yup, I’m gonna talk to some people who are, uh, more professionally inclined to the supernatural than I am, but in the meantime I would like not to be in this building. Or for any of you to be in this building. So, garden party.” Lilah stiffened, “Oooooor whatever we wanna call it. Just.” Galo gestured towards the door and lifted the cooler for Sasha. “Outside.”

Lilah helped him find and set up a large umbrella to keep the sun off them, Galo carrying the heavy weighted base for her. While they were in the garage, away from the others who sat together around Greyson, Galo asked, “Has Greyson ever seen ghosts before?”

“No, Master,” Lilah answered, sticking a can of bug spray in her jean pocket.

“Good thinking,” he praised briefly, “Okay, I’m gonna drink my breakfast and make some phone calls. Do you think it’d be more reassuring for me to stick close to y’all, or should I move over and give you some privacy?”

“Privacy, sir, just for a bit. We all want to ask Greyson for details. And comfort him, if we can.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Galo said, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not holding the metal base. “I appreciate the guidance.”

Lilah looked up at him and gave a brief smile. “Well, hypothetically we’re in cahoots, right? I’m only behaving sensibly, sir.”

“Yeah. Even so, I’m still grateful for it.”

Once the umbrella was up and Galo had snagged the thermos Sasha had prepared for him, Galo told the group that he was gonna be a couple benches over so he could make some phone calls, but please come get him if they needed him for literally anything.

He was an hour into calling people when he finally got ahold of someone willing to help. “Hello, may I speak to Father O'Reilly?” Galo asked, and when the man was on the line he took a deep breath, ready to repeat himself for the umpteenth time.

“Hello Father, my name is Galo Fotia and let me preface by saying this is not a prank call. I am legitimately asking, do you do exorcisms?”

“I… would like more details,” the priest answered, and honestly? That was the best response Galo had gotten so far.

“Someone I live with saw a ghost last night, and while I do not consider myself a man of any particular faith: I don’t mess with the supernatural. Someone who lived here recently died and it seems like a very real possibility that she’s haunting us, since she was a bitter, malicious, cruel person. It could also be a demon. It could also be a nightmare or hallucination but personally I would prefer to cover absolutely all my bases, so, do you do exorcisms? Or, I dunno, at least come take a look?”

“I believe that would be doable.”

Galo heard himself sigh, shoulders slumping. “Thank you, Father. Today?”

Galo gave him his address and number, asking him to call him when he arrived because, again, Galo didn’t fuck with ghosts. He was not going back into that house until someone with a degree in Weird Bullshit was there with him.

He was not a man of faith, but he went to religious men first. He was aware of the irony. “Yeah, well, in the immortal words of Regina Spector, no one’s laughing at god when they’re desperate,” he muttered to himself. Or however that song goes. Whatever adjective she uses, he thought. It was a whole song. Not important. Focus.

Google reviews spoke very highly of a website that was designed to all but physically scream “I’m a scam.” But every person who left a comment professed that the psychic agency in question had solved their problems, and it had a five-star user rating. So Galo cautiously navigated the page, bright colors and comic sans putting him on edge to exit out at the first sign of a popup or potential malware.

His phone call with the agent was nearly identical to his call with the priest, explaining the ghost situation. He was asked more questions: when did this start happening (last night) what was the person’s relation to the deceased (he was her slave) how recent her death was, did Galo know of any unfinished business she might have, and a brief discussion of prices. Galo might’ve been daunted by the gaudy webpage, but the agent was nothing but professional on the line.

Satisfied he’d exhausted both a religious and non-religious form of supernatural-fuckery, he returned to the group. They were sitting clustered together on a long stone bench, Nyla and Evan on either side of Greyson, Sasha holding onto Nyla’s arm and Lilah sitting on Evan’s leg, the uninjured one. Nyla held Greyson’s hand and Lilah’s palm rested on his shoulder, and his hand still covered his mouth. Poor guy.

“No, please, stay sitting,” Galo rushed when Sasha heard his approach and triggered everyone else realizing he was there. “I’m just comin’ back, no need for formalities.” He looked directly at Greyson, face involuntarily screwing up in pity. “How’re you doing, Greyson?” he asked with a low, quiet voice.

The older man shook slightly, his fingers curling against his lips before lowering his hand. “Better than you found me, Master.”

“Good,” Galo said, sinking down to sit with crossed legs. “No, no! Stay,” Galo said, raising both hands to stop the group. They all, Lilah included, looked panicked to be sitting up higher than their Master. “I’m sitting on the ground because I want to, I happen to like it down here. Please, just stay where you are.”

“...Yes Master,” Nyla answered after a tense moment, deliberately settling herself back on the stone and smoothing out her skirts. She looked different without her usual apron on. Galo couldn’t wait to see her in one of the dresses she’d ordered.

Now was not the time brain, get it together.

The others took their cue from her and sat back, Lilah shifting off of Evan to sit next to him on the stone. 

“Thank you,” Galo said supportively, smiling up at them. “Nyla, where’s the carbon monoxide detector located in the house--or, a building this size would probably need more than one actually…”

“I, sorry sir?” Nyla said, smiling but eyebrows twisted up in confusion.

“The carbon monoxide monitor?”

“I… am not certain, sir, what you mean?”

“Oh. Okay, uh, hm.” Galo nodded slowly. “Yeah, so, that’s something I’m gonna go ahead and order. You don’t need to mind me, I’m just gonna sit here and do that real quick.”

Galo pulled out his phone again and googled how many he should even get. Google suggested one for each floor, and possibly extra ones in or directly outside sleeping areas.

“I would actually kind of prefer it if you all didn’t stare directly at me while I do this,” Galo mentioned as mildly as he could, but they all snapped their gazes away in an instant anyway. He… ugh, whatever, don’t overthink it. He ordered six, just to be safe, and pocketed his phone again.

“Alright, so, I’ve got a priest coming over hopefully within the hour, and an appointment with a psychic this afternoon. I’ll just order lunch and we can eat out here, because, uh, ghosts.” Galo gestured vaguely. “I’m not taking chances with that shit.”

“Yes, Master,” Nyla said, “Is there anything you would like us to do in the meantime?”

“Mmmnng” Galo hummed, scratching at his undercut. What to do with a group of people who’d never relaxed a day in their lives? 

“Oh, uh, actually, since I have you all here!” Galo said, remembering. “I wanted to make a statement that you’ve all been very good for me so far, and I appreciate all the effort you’ve put in, but I want to do away with some of my aunt’s old rules.” Galo noticed confusion on most of their faces, but Sasha’s was the only one holding any real sense of distress so he marked that down as a win.

God he needed to find a way to make Sasha, specifically, feel more comfortable around him.

“So,” Galo lifted three fingers, eyes rolling back to the side as he tried to remember if that was right. “First, I don’t care about stuttering. I understand my aunt apparently had a thing about it, but I don’t, so if you stutter I won’t mind.” Evan’s eyes flicked, briefly, barely noticeable, to Sasha, before he resumed being as stony-faced and attentive as the rest of them. Lilah, Nyla, and Greyson didn’t react, but Galo suspected that might be because they were deliberately refraining.

“Second, it’s okay if you don’t move super gracefully around me. It’s okay if you do, too, but like, you don’t have to put an effort into it if you don’t feel like it.” Nyla, impossibly, sat up straighter at that, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“And, uh, fuck,” what was the third one? Oh yeah, “Smiling! I don’t need you to make pretend-expressions at me. If you wanna frown or anything you’re allowed.”

They collectively looked baffled. Galo, who was pretty sure he was just allergic to awkward situations, pulled out his phone again with a cheery grin.

“I have Netflix! There are a couple different movies I’ve thought looked cute that I haven’t gotten around to yet. I mean, my phone screen is kinda small but I bet we could make it work if we all just sorta get in close.”

Evan reacted positively to that, though his expression shuttered the moment Galo’s eyes flicked to him. “That sounds wonderful, Master,” Nyla said politely, but she also kinda sounded like she meant it, her smile taking that softer quality that Galo associated with genuine pleasure. Galo smiled up at her. “Cool.” He’d need to grab his portable charger while the priest was in the house, but he should have enough battery to last until then. He pulled up Song of the Sea, which had selkies, not ghosts, and sat with his back to the group, right in front of Greyson, lifting his phone with one hand. He was strong, so he could keep his hand lifted up like that for a while, and he’d just switch hands when he did get too tired.

They were about 3/4ths of the way through the movie when it auto-paused for a phone call. “Aw, shit, to be continued,” Galo said as he rose, answering the phone with a hello. He jogged around to the front of the house, not passing through it, and waved hi when he caught sight of the priest.

“Hello Father,” Galo greeted politely, extending a hand. 

“Hello, my son,” Father O'Reilly greeted in turn, eyes darting to Galo’s tanktop and then doing a double take. Galo glanced down, and oh, yeah. He was wearing his “Mothman wants what I have” shirt. The one with the art of Mothman’s GIANT ass. Probably not the most professional. C'est la vie. 

“So about the ghost,” Galo said, attempting to get back on track. “Wait. My shirt probably makes it seem like I’m not taking this seriously. I am taking this seriously. I just, didn’t realize what I was wearing, I--”

“It’s alright,” he cut in, much to Galo’s relief.

“I’m a little jumpy today,” he said with hands held half in front of him, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Please, show me where the spirit was seen.”

Galo led him to the den, very much hoping that Greyson had just had, like, a super bad nightmare while sleepwalking. That would be the best option. 

“He said the light was on, but when I found him this morning the lights were all off,” Galo said, settling a hand on top of a bare side table near the armchair and leaning on it. “This is where he saw her,” he said with a gesture towards the chair. 

“Mm,” Father O’Reilly hummed, examining the armchair. He examined the rest of the room lightly, not opening anything or prying. Which. Good. Because the dumpster still wasn’t here and Galo really didn’t wanna explain the cabinet full of weapons and chains to a Catholic priest. The man just said a few chants, what Galo assumed were Hail Mary’s. He finished with the lord’s prayer which Galo did know, due to his own churchly upbringing, and Galo muttered along under his breath. Well over a decade later and Galo still knew it word for word (but then, he could also probably sing Veggie Tales verbatim so who knows if that was indicative of anything). 

“The Lord has blessed this home and those within it,” the priest assured as he headed out, “Rest easy now, my son.”

Galo did not believe that at all but he thanked the priest gratefully regardless. He grabbed his portable charger and his laptop, then headed back out to the slaves.

“Good news, the priest has come and blessed the house. I’ll meet with the psychic this afternoon and then we should be able to head back inside.”

Galo ordered pizza, plugged his phone into the portable charger, and then pulled up the rest of Song of the Sea on his laptop. Nyla, interestingly enough, settled herself on the ground next to Galo when he sat down again, and he was gonna protest but…

Well, if it was just her.

This was an interesting exercise in proximity, too. Galo tended to see them fleetingly, just here or there unless something was going on, and rarely all of them together at once. They were stiff around him, but he was kinda stiff around them too, for all he tried to project only friendly, relaxed ease. They were… still figuring out how to exist around one another.

The dumpster arrived mid-afternoon (yay! A project Galo could work on some other time) and they’d started another movie by the time the psychic arrived, and Galo took his laptop inside with him to plug it in while things happened. He was a little more okay cutting through the house with the priest having been there, which meant his first look at the psychic was when he opened the door.

Before him stood a relatively short, middle-aged Japanese man with a polite smile who was absolutely SHREDDED. Just completely fucking JACKED. Galo’s face immediately lit up in unadulterated delight.

“Hi!” he greeted, extending a hand. 

“Hello,” the exorcist greeted with a mild accent. “Are you Galo Fotia?”

“Yes, that’s me! Mr. Kageyama? Or, uh, Kageyama-san?”

“Oh, either’s fine,” the man said with a wave of his hand, smiling pleasantly. “I apologize for coming alone, my coworker had something come up so it is just me today.”

“Yeah, that’s cool. You can uh, you can get rid of ghosts without your partner though, yeah?”

“I am the primary agent who handles spirits, yes,” he reassured.

“Thank you, great, so, uh, this way?” Galo led him to the den and pointed at the armchair, but Mr. Kageyama shook his head.

“There is an evil spirit in this house, but it is not here,” he stated plainly, and Galo’s face froze in a wide eyed smile. 

“Ah. Yeah?”

“Mm,” Mr. Kageyama said with a nod of his head. Fortunately, he looked utterly unperturbed, because if the professional looked bothered Galo was going to Lose His Whole Shit. “May I lead the way?”

“Uh, yeah, yes, please,” Galo said with a weak gesture, edging closer to the older man. No way in HELL was he going to be alone in this house for even a moment.

It occurred to him, distantly, that between the shady website and Galo’s own nerves, this man might possibly just be winding Galo up to scam him. But Galo had the money! Scamming was a non-issue. And if there was an issue, Galo was all too happy to pay this nice, buff man to make it go away. Please dear god.

Mr. Kageyama walked out of the den, over into the dining room, but paused, staring up at the ceiling. “No, upstairs,” he mumbled, turning back around and leading Galo up the steps, down the hall, directly to Auntie Bethany’s bedroom. Galo’s steps slowed as he realized where Mr. Kageyama was heading, and he felt his breathing going tight as he came to a halt completely, a couple feet away.

“Well,” Galo said with a strained chuckle, making Mr. Kageyama pause and turn. “I know you’re the real deal,” Galo told the man standing in front of Auntie Bethany’s “tool closet.”

Mr. Kageyama nodded and turned back to the closet, settling his hand on the door handle. “This is not a ghost,” he stated plainly, “but it is an evil spirit. They can sometimes form in places of concentrated hatred, pain, and anger. It does not have any memories since it was never alive, but it does have a ‘mind’ that might interact with the living.” 

Mr. Kageyama stared at the door a moment, then removed his hand from the handle. “It is strong. It would’ve taken years to gain this sort of strength.”

“Yeah,” Galo breathed. “My uh, my aunt--look, the stuff that’s in there, please know that I would never…”

Mr. Kageyama glanced at him, nodded once, and placed his hand against the plywood. “I don’t need to open it. I can do my work from here, and I feel I probably do not want to know.”

Galo blinked as the light in the room warped, physically waving around Mr. Kageyama in a purplish blue, then just as suddenly went back to the cheerful, neutral light of the daylight coming in through the windows.

“...ah.” Galo said. Ghosts were real. Evil spirits were real. Psychics? Also real apparently! This was a lot to take in during one day.

“So, that thing, the evil spirit,” Galo said, fiddling with the neckline of his top, then rubbing his undercut, “that’s what looked like my aunt last night?”

“Probably not. Although it was powerful, usually only ghosts can look like human beings. It could have induced a nightmare in a susceptible mind, though.” Mr. Kageyama approached Galo and asked, “May I speak with the man who saw the ‘ghost?’”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Galo took the lead this time, and debated on if it would be impolite to ask about leisure activities during a work assignment. Eh, fuck it, Galo was friendly. “So, what gym do you go to?” Galo asked. Mr. Kageyama brightened, and the two talked companionably the entire way out to the garden. Mr. Kageyama seemed to favor afternoons for his exercise, while Galo was definitely a morning man, and they compared notes on their weekly rotations. Apparently Mr. Kageyama had a group of people back in Japan who he videochatted with he’d befriended back in middle school, where they all kept tabs on each other and stuck to a group routine, even though many of them didn’t live in the same city or even country as the others, anymore.

Galo longed for friends like that.

“Hey, guys,” Galo greeted as they rounded a hedge. Nyla was on her feet in a flash, and Galo hastened to assure the others they could stay sitting, yes, even with Mr. Kageyama here. “He just wants to ask Greyson a couple of questions, okay?” Galo said, and Greyson’s adam apple bobbed visibly. He stood and walked to Galo and Mr. Kageyama, and Galo pressed a hopefully reassuring hand to his back as he passed. “We’ll just be over here,” Galo said to both Greyson and Mr. Kageyama.

“Yes sir,” Greyson said as Mr. Kageyama nodded, and Galo went to Nyla as they left.

“Everyone over here holding up okay?” Galo asked, reaching up and letting her kiss his hand before he caressed the side of her head, stroking a thumb over her hair.

“Yes, Master,” she answered, and if his eyes did not deceive him she actually smiled a little as she leaned into his touch, eyes slipping slowly closed like a cat before she blinked them back open and stood straight.

“Easy,” he breathed, not wanting to scare her off but feeling like that was so precious. “So, I can repeat myself when Greyson gets back if Mr. Kageyama didn’t catch him up to speed, but Mr. Kageyama found an evil spirit in my aunt’s old bedroom. Not a ghost, apparently, but like, a conglomeration of evil energies? I’m pretty sure. He got rid of it though.”

Galo explained how Mr. Kageyama had walked straight there, and Evan confirmed that the dining room was in fact directly underneath Auntie Bethany’s bedroom, and everyone knew that the ‘tool closet’ was as good a place as any for terrible things to fester.

“So… magic is real, sir?” Lilah said, sounding dumbfounded and struggling with the information as much as Galo felt.

“Honestly, I’m just gonna ignore that and ideally never bring it up again,” Galo stated. Sasha nodded, Nyla and Evan staring into the middle distance, Nyla with a fist lifted to her lips.

“...Yes Master.”

When Greyson and Mr. Kageyama returned, Gresyon’s hand was tight-knuckled on the lapel of his jacket, eyes down, but his posture immaculate. “Mr. Fotia?” the psychic asked.

Galo rejoined Mr. Kageyama and walked out of earshot, Galo drumming his fingers on his thighs. “So,” he prompted, scanning Mr. Kageyama’s face.

“I do not believe the evil spirit was what caused last night’s vision,” Mr. Kageyama stated mildly. “It is not impossible, or even uncommon, for extreme stress to manifest as audiovisual hallucinations. I would strongly urge you to seek the counsel of a psychiatrist.”

“Yeah,” Galo said with a heavy sigh, “yeah, trust me, I know. They’ve all got appointments with therapists this upcoming week.”

Mr. Kageyama hummed and nodded approvingly. It made Galo feel… nice. It was pleasant, knowing that at least someone approved of his decisions.

“There are no more evil spirits in the house or nearby; did you have anything else I could help with?”

“...If I may get oddly personal, how do you get your glutes to look like that?”

“Oh, I was simply born with very little fat on my hindquarters.”

“God, I’m so jealous,” Galo said, laughing. “I feel like one of those old ladies that jokes about everything she eats going straight to her ass and thighs.”

Mr. Kageyama laughed politely, bringing up the exercises he favored that really worked out those muscles, and Galo compared his own routine. They both seemed to welcome the positive change in topic, and kept it up all the way back to Mr. Kageyama’s car, where Galo thanked him again, paid him for his time and service, and waved goodbye.

He sighed, and looked to the house, rubbing at his undercut. It was safe to go back inside. No ghosts. Just demons of a metaphorical kind.

--

Master Galo had been generous. More than generous.

Greyson was aware that he was, in a large way, very ignorant, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew how it looked, to find him kneeling in front of an empty chair, talking about lights when the lamp was gone. He knew that the questions the psychic had were only asked to gauge his mental state, whether he was a raving lunatic or not, no matter how politely the man had framed the words. He knew that it was foolish, for a man in his 40’s to be frightened by ghosts.

But Master Galo had taken his concerns seriously. His large hands had been gentle on Greyson’s aching, tired body, bearing his weight when his own hollow legs couldn’t. He’d touched him softly, brought them all outside and forbade them from work, removed long-standing rules when by all rights he should be punishing Greyson for the inconvenience, hired not one but two different professionals to handle Greyson’s childish fears.

He knew he did not deserve this.

But Master Galo demonstrably cared very little for what Greyson deserved. He gave very openly, very freely, very frequently. 

He had ordered them to please try and take the evening off, and allowed Nyla to beg to water the plants, and hadn’t been even remotely irritated by the contradiction. Lilah disappeared while Sasha and Greyson helped Evan back down to the basement, and Greyson was almost inclined to worry on her whereabouts, but only almost.

Master was inexplicably kind, and Lilah had tried strange boldness with him before. If Master Galo caught her out and about with no reason for her wandering, the worst he would do would be direct her back down to the basement. Greyson was surprised by his own certainty, that she was fine.

But Master Galo had always been kind, even from his youth, and Greyson had known him, in whatever small way, the longest out of everyone here. Should he truly be so surprised by his Master’s kindness?

Shortly after Nyla and Lilah had both returned to their room, Greyson gave voice to the rattling thought that had taken up new residence inside his empty skull.

“Greyson,” Sasha tried to dissuade, because apparently the only times Greyson felt want were when his wants were absurd.

“No, he can go,” Nyla said, her brow furrowed a little, Lilah and Evan glancing between the three of them.

Greyson nodded to Nyla, his shoulders curving in a shallow bow, and left their room. He heard Sasha’s frustrated noise, and then, surprisingly, the door.

“Sasha?” he asked, surprised, and she firmly wrapped her arms around his, her strong fingers digging into the nonexistent flesh of his arm.

“So you d-don’t see any more ghosts a-alone in the house,” Sasha said firmly, her mouth pulled in a determined line.

Greyson opened his mouth to protest--he didn’t need walked up the stairs and down a hall--but found he simply did not have the energy to argue, and he didn’t really want to in the first place. He was surprised he had even the single want he currently possessed, and even his surprise was a shallow, hollow thing. Like a car wreck glanced at on the morning news.

“Thank you, Sasha,” he said, lifting his free hand to pat at hers, and he left it there. Palm to knuckles, skin to skin.

He was so tired.

But regardless, he wanted to do this, despite his fatigue, so he climbed the stairs again and sought out his Master. He was sitting with a damp cloth over his eyes, arms spread over the back of the couch, legs spread carelessly, head tipped back and his ridiculous shirt on display.

Greyson really shouldn’t have an opinion about his Master’s wardrobe, and yet, that one thought continued to flit about in the back of his mind, like a tone deaf background character in a serious scene.

Greyson, silent as the air, pressed his lips to Sasha’s cheek in thanks for taking him here, then waited until she was gone to knock on the doorframe.

“Master Galo.”

“Greyson?” Master Galo asked, sounding alarmed, sitting up in an instant and pulling the washcloth from his eyes. “Hey, dude,” he said, beckoning him in, and Greyson went, straight-spined and graceful despite his Master’s earlier retraction of the rule. “Are you okay?”

“I am, Master, thank you,” Greyson, and it was more or less the truth, he figured.

“What are you doing here, instead of with the others?” he asked as Greyson knelt and kissed his hand. It was so big, he noticed, like he’d noticed every time he kissed it. At first it had alarmed him. Now he didn’t feel anything at the observation.

“I wanted to thank you, sir,” Greyson said. My body is present and available for your service and pleasure, please use me as you see fit. The words were familiar and worn, though he was perhaps the only member of his family who had ever meant them, when he said them. He would’ve meant them now, too, if he thought he was allowed to say them.

“You don’t need to,” Master Galo said, sounding tired of Greyson’s fawning, and Greyson at first resisted the urge to grip his own wrist to soothe himself. “You didn’t sleep at all last night, aren’t you tired? Go to bed, Greyson.”

“Please, I wanted--” his words cut out. He… was not the most eloquent speaker. He did grip his wrist, then, and swallowed hard. This was defiance. He’d been given an order. He pressed himself to speak anyway. “To… seek comfort, Master.”

He hadn’t told Nyla and the others about that part. They weren’t… they hadn’t had the same relationship with Mistress, as he had. They never saw the part of her that Greyson missed the worst.

“Yeah?” Galo asked, no more than a whisper. “What--what can I do for you, Greyson?”

Greyson’s shoulders slumped in relief that his defiance had not pushed his Master to anger. “Please, Master, may I rest my head against your leg?”

“Ah, sure?” Master Galo leaned back against the couch, shifting as he did. “Like, just, sit there?”

“Unless you would prefer I do something, Master?”

“No. No, definitely not. Uh,” Master Galo gestured at the thigh closest to Greyson, which was probably about as large as Greyson’s waist if he was honest. “Go ahead?”

When Greyson was a teen, he’d pillowed his arms across Mistress’s knees and rested his head there as well, her fingers petting at his hair and shoulders. As he’d aged, his arms had left the equation, simply kneeling at her side with his head against her skirt.

Now, with his Master, he let his posture relax further, sitting on his rear instead of his ankles, his wrist grasped in his lap, his glasses held loosely in that hand. Master’s thigh was warm against the side of his face, his eyes closed and knees pressed to the front of the couch. Master’s hand gently caressed his skull, passing over his hair just behind his ear.

Greyson sighed, some pale shade of contentment passing through him, his body slowly, very slowly, unwinding. It happened in increments, first his legs, then his shoulders, then his jaw, then his brow, all of him melting under the steady, slow pass of his Master’s hand over his head.

God, he was so tired.

He woke in bed, with the others, in the basement, with no recollection of how he’d gotten there.

Next

[chaptersofnow]

the royal kiddos of Chrysalis, Cadance and Shining armor

Flurry Heart, Skyla, Instar Pale and Crimson Sweet

Bios under the cut

Name: Flurry Heart Nickname(s): Age: 26 Pronouns: She/her, They/Them Identity: Nonbinary Lesbian crush/relationship: Dating Pumpkin Cake Parents: Cadance, Shining Armor, Chrysalis Sibling: Skyla, Crimson Sweet, Instar Pale Special Talent: Magical blacksmith, Love magic Occupation: Princess Location: Crystal Kingdom Likes: Heavy metal, wrist bands, doing make up, teddy bears Dislikes: annoying men, people who think she isnt working hard as a princess Bio: Flurry Heart, oldest child to Shining armor and Cadance and heir to the crystal empire. she was an absolute sweet heart,  curly pigtails absolutely beloved by the kingdom. However when she entered her teen years she went into a hard goth phase and never got out of it. a real 180 on her personality. none the less she still works hard to work on her hobbies often, keeping up with her princess duties and making her family proud. At the end of the day she happily cuddles up with her girlfriend Pumpkin as they show each other funny pictures on their phones and watch stupid movies until they pass out. Growing up Flurry heart and Cozy Glow were good friends,when Cozy Glow had to come along with Celestia and Luna for trips to the empire for Flurry heart to cantorlot the two got to spend time together. it took a bit of warming up as Cozy glow was a few years older than the royal princes, but when the two started hanging out they were best friends. Cozy glow would often sneak her to cool places, steal snacks from the royal kitchen and so on. Cozy also was the one who introduce her to heavy metal saying quote "I don't know if you'll like this you seem like the type to like classy music like the nutcracker of sumthin'" the next visit  Flurry heart had dyed her whole mane black and had on the messiest smudgiest make up. it was a real kicker to watch this 15 year old walk is like she was hot shit. Cozy glow gave her more CD, taught her to style her hair, put on makeup and the whole thing. When they got older Flurry returned favor by custom making Cozy Glow her armor when she was officially made a guard of cantorlot. Flurry heart tries to not let the comments of the citizens and visiting dignitaries get to her, and it helps to have her parents supporting her . She met her girlfriend Pumpkin Cake when the mare began to take on Sugarcube corner deliveries herself, like Flurry heart recalls knowing her when they were real little, and seeing her at gatherings where pinkie brings the cake twins to come have fun. but they never really got to talk. but with the constant deliveries and Flurry Hearts development for a sweet tooth Pumpkin cake was around often. at some point the two started dating and Pumpkin moved to the Crystal empire and lives with flurry heart. Pumpkin works in the royal kitchen and Flurry heart is a black smith specializing is creating magic infused armor. 

🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️

Name: Skyla Nickname(s): Age: 24 Pronouns: She/her Identity: Agender Bi pony crush/relationship: Parents: Cadance, Shining Armor, Chrysalis Sibling: Flurry Heart, Crimson Sweet, Instar Pale Special Talent: Love Magic Occupation: Princess Location: Crystal Kingdom Likes: keeping on schedual, looking good, being looked up to, tradition Dislikes: not receiving recognition for her work, physical labor Bio: Second born to the empire, Skyla is defiantly the most cookie cutter princess of the four crystal heirs. She takes after her mother but is a lot of uptight in keeping tradition, making sure everything is set to be on scheduled and so forth. she may have picked this up from her aunt twilight more or less. while her family around her tries to keep her grounded and calm she can't help but get in a big tilly over not having control over things. its gone from not being able to control her pretend play dates as a filly to making sure the daily happening don't get off course. Her older sister Flurry Heart, while working hard and still making sure to get her work done, is a lot more laze in things and is ok with letting things slide if they don't go according to plan. Which tends to lead Skyla to try and follow after her and fix these things even if they don't need to be fixed. Skyla puts on a nice happy face for the people but all her siblings know she holds quite the temper when no one is looking, especially when Flurry tries to tell her to calm down. Flurry was originally the one being trained to take over Cadance's spot as queen of the empire one day, training in the use of her magic. However when Flurry found her true calling as a black smith the honor was passed down to Skyla who has happily worked hard to catch up. Skyla see's herself as bearing a torch for the future of the empire and that she has to be perfect and so must everything else around her. Fearing things to be able to fall apart at any moment. after the big war against darkness Skyla had begun to realize for a few years, realizing no great danger would ruining the kingdom. But after the Queen Erroria incident where her and her family had been captured she has brought back up her walls and has become more uptight then before. 

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Name: Crimson Sweet Nickname(s): Stripes Age: 11 Pronouns: They/Them Identity: Nonbinary Girl crush/relationship: Parents: Cadance, Shining Armor, Chrysalis Sibling: Flurry Heart, Skyla, Instar Pale Special Talent: helping  people make friends Occupation: Princess, student Location: Crystal Kingdom Likes: friends, beetles, small notebooks, the beach Dislikes: Mirrors, thunder, rotten food Bio: Oldest of the two kids born after the marriage of Chrysalis to the crystal family. a marriage made out of many years of apologies, forgiveness and new found friendship. After Chrysalis accepted the friendship of twilight and equestria she spent many years making up for what she did, so her people and everyone else. She was blinded by anger and sadness, when she ruled she truly believed the only way to feed her people was to take their love, and when shown a new way she felt foolish for never realizing and having let her people starve that she denied the change at all. After the Hive came to accept her as their own again she led beside Thorax and his council. Thorax had always been too young to rule all by himself so with a queen with years of experience around to help him things in the Hive improved in new ways. now with her relationship with the Hive repaired Chrysalis slowly made progress to apologize for what she did to Candace and Shining armor. it took awhile to move past the day she invaded and tried to ruin their wedding, but in time over years of forming bonds they had a new wedding. introducing Chrysalis to their family. Chrysalis still lived in the Hive and though their wedding was official for the time it more stood for political alliance between the two, as chrysalis wasn't ready to let thorax stand alone as leader yet. Her staying ended up being what saved the colony, when the war of darkness arose through equestria the entity tried to reclaim the changlings once again as is minons. Had chrysalis not been there to protect them they would have surely been corrupted once again. After the war ended Chrysalis felt safe leaving Thorax as ruler, chrysalis now lives in the crystal empire with Cadance and Shining armor. over the years they have had two children, Crimson Sweet and later Instar Pale. Crimson sweet is still of the younger royal kids, they are quite rambunctious and love to run around with all the other kids in the kingdom. they love to eat and their favorite thing to do is make picnics, they take outings with their school friends almost every week. Bringing along cute snacks that Pumpkin Cake has made for them. 

🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉

Name: Instar Pale Nickname(s): Age: 10 Pronouns: He/him, Any Identity: Genderfuild bi pony crush/relationship: Parents: Cadance, Shining Armor, Chrysalis Sibling: Flurry Heart, Crimson Sweet, Skyla Special Talent: Studying Occupation: Royality, student Location: Crystal Kingdom Likes: cool weapons, books with cool covers, drawings, collecting things Dislikes: loud noises, making decisions, strangers Bio: Youngest of four, Instar is the quiet baby of the family. Growing up in a family as big as his everyone around him babied him, saying he was always so sweet and cuddly. Which led to an amount of coddling that turned him into a very antisocial pony. he struggles to talk to new people and wont go anywhere unless he is with someone he knows so he can duck behind them to avoid conversations. hes a total hypochondriac, believing to be constantly sick and feeling weak all the time dispute his health being fine. Instar likes to spend time with Flurry heart and shining armor the most, Flurry heart because she is quite and they get to just sit around listening to music and reading. and his father because he gets to sit on the side line and watch him work. Instar doesn't think they'd make much for a guard but they love to read all about the different weapons, armors and Technics taught through history and the country. watching his father display these things, or Flurry heart MAKE them is right up his ally. If you do manage to get him to talk to you he is an info dumping machine and will talk your ear off about some obscure history thing he's learned recently.

[wrctings]

Bill Guarnere x fem!reader | Happy Halloween

happy october 31st everyone! for this imagine, i’m mixing two of my favourite things, halloween and this angry (actually soft inside) italian <3 🎃 (this is based on the character portrayed by frank john hughes, all my respect goes to the real bill guarnere and his family, which i by no means mean to disrespect). I wrote this while listening to The Yodeling Ghost by Bring Crosby and The Andrews Sisters, so that could be a nice song to read this to ❣️

October 31st, 1945 

You stopped in the kitchen doorway to a sight that coated your heart with a warmth that even the thickest of blankets couldn’t have generated. You almost didn’t want to enter the room anymore, a smile instantly lightening your features as you allowed your gaze to longer linger on the scene you had just walked in on, coming to a halt as though unwilling to shatter the moment you had just caught.

“Daddy, when are we going to go?” A little girl, no older than ten, with bright eyes fixed upon her dad’s frame, was gently tugging at the man’s shirt. 

“Soon, Y/child’s/n, soon. I swear you’re even more impatient that I am, aren’t you?” Bill shook his head but a twinkle of fondness could also easily be discerned in the man’s gaze, which briefly landed upon his daughter’s face before his attention went back to the reason why the child’s patience was wearing out. Indeed, on the table before Bill sat an emptied pumpkin — its innards and light-coloured, almond-like seeds having been set aside in a nearby bowl —, and your husband was making an effort to craftily dig into it with a knife.

“Then we’ll go?” Y/child’s/n asked hopefully, hauling herself on tiptoe to better observe Bill’s endeavour. 

“Then we’ll go,” he promised, cutting through the hardened surface of the fruit with quite a bit of struggle to form of a serrated mouth. “I swear you’re even more impatient than me, aren’t you?” he gave her a quick smile as he continued his task. Once he was done with carving such an outline, he could then push the cut-out surface out of the way, leaving a whole in the shape of a grin. ‘There you go,” Bill put the knife down, rubbing his hands together as he took a final look at his creation, then seized the pumpkin and showed it to your daughter. “What do you think?” 

“It’s not a very scary pumpkin...,” the little girl commented with a chuckle, though her face showed a pleased expression.

“Not a very scary pumpkin? Let me tell you, I’d be really scared if I came across a pumpkin like that,” Bill retorted, giving the pumpkin a fake suspicious look that made your daughter laugh, and you couldn’t help but join in. This drew your husband’s attention, whom gave you a joyful glance as soon as he noticed your presence in the doorway. “See,” he continued, addressing the girl, “I wouldn’t trust it too much. But thanks to it, I have a feeling somebody’s gonna get some candy tonight.” 

“I have the same feeling,” you said fondly, stepping inside the room to join your daughter and husband. Bill got up, leaning on his prosthesis to regain his balance, and gave you an affectionate smile before he washed pumpkin flesh off his hands. 

“Mommy, are you going to go treat-or-treating with me and daddy?” Y/child’s/name wrapped her small hands around your leg as she shifted her head backwards to give you an inquisitive look. 

“Do you want me to?” you replied tenderly, hearing Bill’s footsteps come closer behind your back, meaning that it would soon be time to grant your daughter’s wish.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully. “Please come with us!" 

“Then count me in,” you stroke your daughter’s back, nodding decidedly. “But before that, you need to put on your costume. Come on, I’ll help you out. I’m sure that daddy will manage not to get too scared of Mr Pumpkin even if we leave him alone with him for a bit,” you gave Bill a playful, loving smile. 

“I’ll be on the lookout for anything suspicious from Mr Pumpkin,” Bill answered gravely, and the two of you exchanged a knowing and affectionate glance as you were leaving the kitchen in your daughter’s wake. 

*

You were standing at the bottom of the staircase a quarter of an hour later, readjusting Y/child’s/n’s halloweeny cape as the little girl expectantly hopped up and down, struggling to remain immobile.

“Daddy! Look!” As soon as Bill appeared in the doorframe, she spun on her heels to face him, a proud beam shimmering upon her lips. “I’m a vampire!” 

“Wow,” holding the pumpkin he had carved earlier, your husband came closer to take a thorough look at the girl’s new disguise. “You’re a terrifying little vampire! Ain’t nobody stands a chance against you.”

“Now I can scare Mr Pumpkin if he tries to scare you,” Y/child’s/n announced confidently, eyeing the jack-o’-lantern as if she was giving it a warning. Such a bravely sweet statement made Bill’s and yours parent’s hearts melt and your husband picked her up, momentarily putting the pumpkin down so he could plant a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he told her with a smile not devoid of emotion as you rubbed his shoulder.

The three of you then put their shoes on, Bill once again getting hold of the jack-o’-lantern, and you took off for the Halloween-night trick-or-treating which your daughter had been awaiting so impatiently. The sun had already almost set, only remnants of fading warm light rippling upon the ginger and brown leaves that rustled on the trees all around, but most of the houses’ porches were alit with lanterns or lights, some of them even placed inside of carved pumpkins used as decorations. You were not the only ones to have gone out on that evening, meeting some your neighbours whom you greeted before your daughter energetically shot the decisive question: trick or treat? Even without approaching the houses, your pumpkin already filled with a few pieces of candy, which your daughter counted before urging you to go up to the first front door. Her father lifted her up so she could ring the doorbell by herself, and you waited for your neighbours to show up, Bill carrying your pumpkin-container while you were in charge of other sweets that you could give away for other trick-or-treaters. 

“Good evening,” you greeted the woman who opened the door, a sheepish smile slipping onto your lips as your daughter joyfully exclaimed: trick or treat, even forgetting to say hello first. 

“Well, look at you,” the woman laughed kindly, visibly finding the child’s enthusiasm endearing. “Good evening. I’ll see what I can do for you.” She reappeared a few moments later, carrying a piece of chocolate candy that she put into the pumpkin that Y/child’s/n insisted on taking from Bill. “There you go.” 

“Thank you very much, Ma’am,” your daughter replied, this time not giving politeness a miss, which got her another smile from the woman. 

“Thank you, we’re sorry for the trouble,” Bill apologised, though giving your daughter a fond glance as he did so.  

“It’s nothing, I’m glad I won’t be tricked by this very frightening vampire,” the woman shook her head breezily, but your daughter’s face shone with pride at the fact that your neighbour had got her costume right, and found her scary. 

After warmly wishing the woman a good evening, you set toward your next destination. To make your daughter content, you decided to try your luck at all the houses bordering your street, and thankfully got a positive response from every one of their inhabitants — to give away candy was one of Halloween night’s customs, so everybody played along in a joyous atmosphere, especially since your daughter managed to remain polite in spite of her being giddy with excitement. You and Bill couldn’t have been prouder, congratulating the girl on her behaviour and promising her that she would get to taste some of the candy you had collected when you would come home.

Your little expedition came to an end around an hour later, tiredness starting to weigh upon Y/child’s/n as you left the front yard of the last house you had visited. Her eyelids fluttering shut while you were heading back home, Bill ended up picking her up, handing you the jack-o’-lantern, and cradling her in his arms so she could rest peacefully. Although she awoke when your husband and you took her up the stairs leading to her room, then helping your daughter undress and get into bed, her misty state of mind made the drowsy little girl forget all about candy and she quickly cuddled up to her stuffed animal, letting you tuck her in and tenderly kiss her goodnight. You softly closed the door, your daughter already fast asleep, and found yourself alone with Bill.

The two of you quietly went back downstairs, careful not to make any loud noises lest you disturbed Y/child’s/n’s slumber, and in a few minutes you were inside the living room, the door shut behind you. Warmth was flooding the room, the fireplace still ablaze with remnants of fluttering flames and the wood inside crackling cosily, which made an appeased sigh part your lips. You were home.

“Y/child’s/nickname fell asleep quickly tonight,” Bill commented, taking your hand in his. “That was a really good Halloween celebration.” 

“But it’s not over yet,” you had had an idea, a smile now spreading upon your face as you let go of your husband’s hand. You came up to the radio stationed near the fireplace, turning it on, and after a few seconds of uncertain hissing and murmuring from the frequency modulation, music spilled from the machine, its jazzy notes instantly swirling in the air and engulfing you and Bill in their rhythm, smooth and ample like velvet to the ears. Matching the date, you realised that it was Halloween-themed after catching some of the lyrics.

“There,” you grinned, turning back around to meet Bill’s inquisitive gaze. Moving along to the song, you came back to him, putting your arms over the man’s shoulders. “Now, I’ve got you all for myself,” you murmured with longing playfulness, your mouth still curved. 

“I’m all yours, darling,” your husband’s dark eyes anchored in yours, he slid his arms around your back, his body drifting along the shifting of yours. He had never told you out loud, but dancing with you had always felt incredibly special to him; in spite of losing his leg, it made him feel whole, like he could do anything. Like he was still himself — and he was. He was incredibly strong, and you would forever be proud of him. 

As you danced, Bill kissed you slowly, savouring every contact that you shared, before pulling away, which allowed you to look into his face. Waltzing shadows from the fireplace were grazing his skin, skin which you had left so many breathless kisses on, and the amber of his iris appeared lighter in the dimly-lit living room, reflecting the glistening of embers in the fireplace. You had feared losing him so intensely, back when you went through the war together, and now he was standing there in front of you, so alive. And even though the memories of what happened after you had learnt about Bill’s injury still sometimes cut through you like a blade — sobbing uncontrollably in Cpt. Winters’s foxhole, Cpt. Nixon had even offered you his flask of alcohol as Richard had tried to console you best he could —, at least your pain had been alleviated by the certainty that he had made it. You had come home to him, and he had been there. 

But on that merry Halloween evening, nothing could have clouded the sheer and simple happiness of dancing with your husband to a spooky tune. You hands in his, you moved along to the music, your merry state of mind translating into the suavity with which your limbs moved in synch; Bill had even forgotten about his prosthetic, feeling like every move was effortless with you. Though being the night of horror, for the two of you that 31st of October was marked with blissfulness that would have made even the scariest of creatures meek. And perhaps, at that very moment, some ghost was watching you from the corner of the room, daydreaming about a long-lost love that it had suddenly set its mind to find again. 

[sandpumpkin]

Tender touches

More..metalpumpkin...because Soft Kid is adorable and I love it...

Much fluff

It had been almost a month since Kid had started officially dating Hana and it was a learning curve for Kid. He wasn’t used to being in an actual relationship but that was apparently the same for Hana. She was always so gentle and soft with him, the way she looked at him so kindly and she made him feel so wanted and loved. But Kid was still struggling to convey what he felt in return. He had had one long time girlfriend in the past but before and after it was just one night stands. 

Things were going by so slowly with Hana but it didn’t really bother him, he enjoyed her company more than anything. 

Today would be a turning point in the relationship, she would be spending the night at his place. Kid had made sure to clean: or more like Killer insisted he clean. 

Hana arrived at his house after work with an overnight bag, looking pretty nervous herself. She poked her head into the living room where the others were watching Wire play a game “Good evening,” she said brightly, getting a chorus of ‘hello’s’ in return.

“Don’t worry, Kid cleaned.” Killer announced making her blush more “I don’t think you want to see Kid’s horde of po-” 

“Shut up!” Kid snapped, grabbing Hana by the shoulders and guiding her out of the room and up to his own. “I-ignore them.” he grumbled, which just spurred her cute laughter in response. Kid felt his ears burn as he tried not to grin wildly. Opening the door to his room, he held it open to let her in, closing the door behind them. They stood in awkward silence for a moment. Kid coughed, “y-you can put your stuff wherever..” 

Why am I making this weird?!

He watched Hana set her bag down and instantly honed in on his film collection “oh..I love this film!” she stated pointing at Akira. “You’d look so cool with that jacket.” she smiled turning her attention back to the films. 

“-D-did you want to use the shower or something...I mean you were at work…” Kid mumbled “I don’t- It’s clean!” he half shouted. Hana chuckled again and nodded. Rummaging through her bag she gathered a change of clothes and followed Kid to the bathroom, where he showed her how to work the shower. “Be careful with the temperature..it’s kinda broken but it works.” he explained, “you can use my towel...it’s the red one.. So er .yeah..” he excused himself and headed down stairs to make drinks

I need to calm down...we’re not doing anything..just sharing a bed... 

He watched the kettle boil and made a tea for Hana in her pumpkin cup: that he had bought specifically for her use and a coffee for himself. Grabbing the cups he headed back upstairs, his bedroom door ajar. 

“no..ahh..I’m so stupid..” he heard her self-scolding. Pushing open the door he saw her on the floor frantically rummaging through her bag. “Kid!” she jumped as he kicked the door shut. 

“You okay?” he asked, raising his absent eyebrow. 

“yes..I just..forgot my cardigan..” she explained, rubbing her arms anxiously. He realised he never saw her without long sleeves. Setting the cups down on his desk, he pulled open drawer after drawer

“Shit. It’s here somewhere!” he ranted, “here it is!” Kid announced pulling a chunky black and red jumper from a tightly stuffed drawer and launched it across the room before he released what he’d done. Turning sharply when he heard a light ‘oof’ he saw Hana with the jumper hanging over her head. “Sorry..didn’t mean to throw it at you.” he said rubbing the back of his head “you can wear that...if you want..” 

“Thank you.” Hana giggled from under the jumper before pulling it on promptly, her orange hair popping through the neck hole. It was far too big but she looked content and cute in it. Closing her eyes as she raised her non-visible hands up to her nose, 

Shit..did I wash it…

She smiled softly “It smells like you.” 

“..is that bad..”

“Of course not. It’s like a hug.” she added, snuggling into the jumper. Kid blushed, he hadn’t taken into account, one: how cute she looked in his oversized jumper and two: coupled with the cute things she said. His heart was beating quickly. They spent the evening talking and watched Akira sitting closely to one-another. 

When time to sleep came around, Kid panicked, he was so used to sleeping naked, what if he stripped when he was asleep. He changed quickly into shorts and a vest, setting his prosthetic arm on the bedside table. God. I hope I don’t freak her out..

She was already nestled under the covers, the jumper laid on top of her ready for the morning. Kid chuckled, she couldn’t get any cuter. Her eyes just peeking over the top of the covers playfully. Kid climbed into his bed and shuffled to get comfortable. What did he say? Goodnight? Sleep well? 

“Thank you for having me over..” she said, resting her back against his ever so slightly. 

“Sure…” he mumbled, pressing his back in retaliation hearing her body laugh quietly. “Night..”

“Goodnight Kid..” 

Kid closed his eyes and fell asleep quicker than normal. Before he knew it, it was morning. He felt Hana stir behind him, the covers shifting with her as she sat up and instantly pulled the jumped over her head. Kid rolled to watch her rub the sleep from her eyes and yawn. “Mmmorning.. You look cute.” he purred, resting his good hand behind his head as he watched her slowly wake up. 

“Morning Kid.” she stammered, trying to hide in the jumper.

“Come here..” Kid smiled moving his hand to touch her face pulling her down to kiss him sleepily. 

God. waking up like this..is pretty good. 

-

The next few times, Kid looked forward to her staying over. Made sure the jumper was out ready for her. And everytime she had to leave and he slept alone: he hated it. Not feeling a small form against his, made him feel empty and lonely. 

“Goodnight Kid.” she said, stealing a kiss on his cheek before she snuggled back under the covers, their backs touching. Kid smiled as he drifted off to sleep. 

Though when he woke up, he had rolled over and Hana was curled up against his chest still fast asleep. Kid tried to process the moment and grinned wildly before shuffling back into the covers and running a hand through her soft orange hair and dozing back off. 

-

The next time was more embarrassing for Kid. He woke up to a gentle hand combing through his hair, he had snuggled right up to her resting his head on her chest, coiling his legs between hers. She chuckled and nuzzled his hair, assuming he was still fast asleep. A kiss was planted into his hair, before her fingers stroked the back of his neck which made his whole body shivered happily. “Mgh…” 

“Good morning,” she whispered to him, he raised his head out of her chest, his ears tinged with red. 

“Yeah..morning. Sorry..I must be heavy…”

Hana replied by cupping his face and peppering his face with soft kisses “you’re so warm like a big old teddy bear.” she mused, “I was so toasty..”

Kid grumbled and pulled her closer again. 

This..why am I doing this..but..I like it..

“I should get up-”

Hana moved to sit up but Kid rolled on top of her quickly, pinning her to the bed. She squeaked from the sudden attack. Burying his face into her neck and sliding his good hand around her waist. 

Don't..go…

“Don’t..go..it’s early..stay with me longer…” he pleaded into her skin. He felt her arms slide over his shoulders, one hand lacing through his crimson hair.

“I can’t say no to that but-” Hana chuckled in between her sentence “Kid..you are crushing me..” Kid felt like his face was burning like a thousand suns. Mumbling a panicked ‘sorry’ He quickly laid beside her snuggling right back in as if he would die without knowing more of her soft embraces. 

I want to wake up like this forever…

“I do have to get up soon though-” Hana reminded scratching his scalp lightly, making Kid almost purr.

“No. Stay..” he whined squeezing her tightly, “just a bit longer..” he whispered, closing his eyes and savoured the gentle lovingly touches she was bestowing upon him. 

How the hell did I deserve this? When did I deserve to be this loved..

[missypawz]

Pumpkins

Petra is adamant that she wants to do pumpkin carving for Halloween at headquaters, but she has to put it through the captain first.

♡*♡

"Come on captain it would be a great idea!"

"No."

"But sir- the younger soldiers would surely love it."

"I said no."

Petra looked at the man infront of her, a frown evident on her face, she really wanted to do this idea that she had come up with, but it seems that the captain wouldn't allow it. She supposed it was childish in a way, especially for soldiers, carving pumpkins wasn't part of the job. Levi was purposely looking away from her, seeing that look on her face would only send a wave of guilt through him, it was difficult to say no to her.

"You could help me with one..Are you really sure you don't want to have a night of doing something fun? I'm sure the commander won't be angry if we tell him before hand." She moved round so he had to face her, her large golden eyes staring at his own slim grey ones. "..You really want to?" He asked.

"Yes, I do, with yo- well just..yeah." she settled on cutting that sentence short, words were just spilling out her mouth and she wasn't prepared to embarrass herself, not quite yet. ... "I'll allow it, just this once."

"You will? Oh thank you, we'll have to buy plenty of pumpkins, this will be wonderful, I'm sure it will make the soldiers happy.." she looked excited, it made his heart fill with warmth that something like this could make her so ecstatic. "We'll head down to town and see what we can do." He replied, picking his tea cup up and pushing himself up with his elbow from the chair he was sat on. "I'll go and ask the squad to help us carry pumpkins back, we won't get too far by ourselves, and thank you again." She flashed the man a smile before hurriedly saying goodnight and leaving the room, leaving him by himself.

He stayed there for a moment before taking his cup back to his room. Levi put his hand on the doorknob and opened it before walking inside the neat and clean room, it was just how it always was, nothing was ever out of place. By now Petra would be telling the squad about her idea, whether or not they were in their rooms and trying to relax, he felt his expression soften just thinking about it. Damn it. He quickly shook his head and focused on putting his teacup down and getting ready to sleep, which didn't take very long, seeing as he simply had to take off his boots, straps and cravat.

Tommorow they would be heading down to town to collect the pumpkins, he wasn't sure just how many Petra wanted to get, but he imagined just some for the new scouts that had joined this year, and maybe a few extra. He would see tommorow.

♡*♡

As usual, the captain was up at the crack of dawn, he was sat on the edge of his bed buckling his odm all together and tying his cravat, lastly he pulled his boots up and let out a sigh. At this time, people were still asleep, so he walked through the silent corridors towards the squad room to make himself some tea before the day started. Usually Petra made it, but he could make do for today.

When he walked over to get his tea leaves and such, he noticed Petra already there, preparing what looked like 2 cups of tea.

"What are you doing up so early?" He asked, watching her as she finished preparing the tea and put it down for him. She put it down instead of giving it to him so it was easier for him to hold it the way he preferred, it was just a little gesture that he appreciated. "I woke up early then decided to come in here, I know you're usually up at this time, so..I thought I could keep you company." The man hummed and thanked her, picking up the teacup and sipping it. It was perfect, like usual.

"The squad also said that they would help today, they were eager, actually." She said, mindlessly swirling the tea round in the cup in her hand.

"Good, we'll go as soon as."

"That sounds fine captain, I'm sure the others will be ready soon." The pair of them talked for a while, Petra told Levi about the newest letter from her father and how he always worried too much, although, she didn't tell him some of the things her dad had written. "He sounds nice."

"He is..just a worrier." Petra smiled, there was a bit of sadness behind it though, she surely missed him, they didn't get to see family very often. "When will you write back to him?" He asked.

"Soon, maybe tonight..whenever I have time."

"Good, don't forget to do it."

Petra wasn't sure what he meant and why he wanted her to write back, but the man always had good reasons, maybe he couldn't write to anyone.

Some time passed and the other squad members made their way into the room, yawning and greeting the pair that were sat down. "You two are here early." Eld said, a grin creeping onto his face. He never said anything, but he'd always thought the two had a little something for one another, the others saw it too, the way they were usually near each other or Petra would be extra carefully making the tea just how the captain liked it.

"Can we go now Captain? I'm excited - I haven't done anything for Halloween for some years now!" Eren looked down at Levi, his eyes full of excitement. He watched Levi and Petra both get up, their tea all gone. "We can go." He confirmed and eren hurried infront of them, wanting to get their as quickly as possible. Eren might have been a soldier, but he was still a child, Petra wanted to do anything for the boy, if it meant doing little things like this and celebrating holidays then she would do it any day.

"Brats excited."

"He is, it's nice to see it, the poor kid has been through a lot, especially these last few weeks." She sighed, watching him as she walked near Levi.

After some time they arrived at a stall that sold pumpkins, Petra made sure to pick good ones, every so often asking the squad for their input. Soon they were brought and ready to be taken back to to headquarters, they were quite heavy and it was rather difficult with the amount of them that there were, they also looked a little odd, soldiers in the survey corps carrying a load of pumpkins around with them. They certainly got a few strange looks, though some people just smiled, understanding that they had to do other things than just kill titans all of the time.

"I've got dibs on this one." Eren looked at the one pumpkin he was carrying, and patted it, making Levi roll his eyes.

"That's great, what are you going to carve on it?" Gunther asked.

"Hmm..I don't know, but if I did it would be a suprise still."

"What are you doing on yours Petra?" Orou made his way next to her.

"That's something that I will not be telling until I'm finished! You aren't ready for what it will be, it'll be amazing- I hope."

"All of you are so secretive." Orou replied as they got closer to hq and walked back inside, setting the pumpkins down on the wooden table in the canteen.

"Be patient and you'll see!" A few of the scouts in the canteen turned their heads towards the levi squad, nothing like this had happened here before and they wanted to have a look.

"So Eren, are you going to go and get your friends? They might as well join in."

"Are you sure?"

"Certainly." Petra smiled at the boy as his face lit up. "Thank you!" When he returned Levi noticed he was with that girl Mikasa, the one that never left his side. She was a strong soldier, top of her class, she would be helpful for the future of the scouts. The other person that Eren had brought along was Armin, he was a nice kid, always polite, he wasn't very strong, but what made him useful was his brain and the ideas he could quickly come up with. Mikasa was almost always next to Eren, Levi didn't know if it was just a crush, or something that ran much deeper, it was non of his business anyway, he just knew Mikasa would do anything to protect the titan brat.

♡*♡

"Captain no-! You can't look!"

"Can't I? Fine, tell me when you're finished."

"I won't take long.. " Levi noticed Petra's wavering voice and her shaky hands as she cut into the pumpkin, she seemed nervous, but he knew better than to ask her and just wait until she was finished. Her face was deep in concentration, her mouth was in a thin line and her eyebrows were slightly furrowed as she carefully carved out the pumpkin.

He couldn't say he didn't want to know what she was working so carefully on, she was desperate to not let him see until she was finished, even the others weren't allowed to see it. While Levi was walking around the room, Petra finished off, a sigh escaping her lips, this could go amazing or just so wrong.

"Captain." The strawberry blond picked up her pumpkin, the carved part towards her chest so that he couldn't see it yet.

He hummed and walked towards her. "Are you done?"

"Yeah..just..please don't be mad."

He raised an eyebrow questioningly as she looked towards her feet. "Show me." Slowly, Petra turned around the pumpkin, a pink blush creeping onto her face as he studied it. On the pumpkin, Petra carved out "I ♡ u", it would be embarrassing if he quickly rejected her, but she wasn't expecting too much, he was the captain in the scouts, humanities strongest soldier, a man who has devoted himself to wiping out the titans. She was just his subordinate, a woman with a silly crush that she should never have acted on in the first place..just it was so hard to not tell him. Any day one of them could die, and she was terrified of dying without getting to tell him, or even him dying, it was a mystery each day what could happen.

"I'm sorry I know it's out of line..and I'm your subordinate, I shouldn't have said anything but with this job I don't know when I'm going to die and I just had to tell you."

"Leave the pumpkin, come with me."

She gulped and nodded, walking after him after placing her pumpkin down, leaving the room stunned and silent. "I know feelings shouldn't be in the scouts..and I'll take whatever punishment- stable duty, cleaning the whole of hq by mys-" To stop her talking, Levi awkwardly took a step foward and pressed a small kiss onto her lips, making her eyes widen. "I'm not going to punish you, I accept your feelings."

"You do-?" She felt a little giddy after that, it was not at all what she was expecting but..it was much better. "Happy Halloween Petra, i love you too."