#the good news! I’m getting a better and better idea of the things I gravitate towards!

[peaches2217]

I went to Dillard’s yesterday after work in order to procure some sample vials, but I was informed they “don’t do that anymore” and they instead offered to spritz a few cards for me instead (but only a few, because paper is a precious commodity, and having worked in a printing department for a few years I didn’t question that mindset). In discussing this with one of my coworkers, who herself is an opulent and well-dressed middle-aged woman, I discovered that this was, in fact, a lie; Dillard’s DOES give you sample vials of perfume if you ask. The catch: you just have to look like the kind of person that could actually afford a few bottles of $200 perfume when you show up.

Having waltzed in in a pink Mario hoodie and smelling like a mix of Tobacco Vanilla texturizing spray and off-brand Tuscan Leather, I can see now why I was deemed unworthy. 😅

[gf2bellamy]

Hii! I am in love with your writing! Specially the sunshine!reader x Spencer, I don’t know if you are taking new requests, if you aren’t feel free to completely ignore this, but I would love to see your take in one of the BAU member (maybe Emily) sort of call out Spencer in the “soft spot” he has for reader. And he’s all like I don’t???? But ofc they would notice this bc 1. They are profilers 2. They just know him. I can imagine Emily’s speech on how it’s ok to let people in and how she thinks they would be good for each other 🥰 or idk something better you can come up

Anyways I just want to thank you for sharing your writing with us 🤍✨

good — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: postprison!spencer so mentions of insecurities in regards to that a/n: hiii !! this is such a wonderful idea <3 i wasnt entirely sure if you wanted post!prison spencer but i thought it fit your request best so i hope thats alright !! <33

Emily narrowed her eyes as she studied the scene unfolding before her. There you and Spencer were, sitting close together in the back of the jet.

Spencer was leaning in slightly, helping you solve a crossword puzzle. She watched as his fingers brushed yours gently when he took the pen from your hand, as he wrote the next answer. You glanced up at him, as if you weren't sure whether to be grateful or flustered. 

He’d practically solved the whole thing in the blink of an eye, but instead of simply finishing it, he waited for you to catch up, his gaze flickering to yours every so often with a small, encouraging smile. 

Emily couldn’t help but shake her head as she looked out the window again.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen the two of you like this—closer than anyone else on the team. She could see it in Spencer’s eyes—he had a soft spot for you, no question. The way he took his time with you, how he tried to make you laugh or ease your stress, it was so different from how he interacted with the rest of them.

And as much as she had grown to appreciate the dynamic, Emily had to admit, she was getting tired of watching both of you dance around the obvious.

Emily couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Spencer smile this much, this freely. It had been a long road since his release from prison, and though he was slowly piecing himself back together, it was clear that you played a significant role in his recovery.

The way he would light up at the smallest of gestures from you, or the way he would seek out your company without hesitation—it was a refreshing change.

Her thoughts were interrupted by your laughter—loud and genuine—as Spencer cracked a joke about one of the crossword clues.

Emily’s eyes flicked to the two of you just in time to see your shoulder brush against his, your body language open, comfortable.

But it wasn’t just your laughter that caught Emily’s attention—it was the look Spencer gave you in that moment. His eyes lingered on you, soft and warm. Emily noticed the way his lips curled upward ever so slightly.

Emily sighed inwardly, leaning her head against the seat. She wasn't sure what either of you were waiting for, but she hoped, for both of your sakes, that you would stop pretending like nothing was happening between you.

The next instance was when Emily had had enough.

The moment you and Spencer walked into the bullpen together, Emily's gaze immediately locked onto the way he had a hand resting casually on the small of your back.

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She knew she wasn’t imagining it—there was no mistaking the way Spencer was always hovering just a little bit closer to you, the way his body seemed to naturally gravitate toward yours. 

“Do you want some coffee?” Spencer asked you. You hesitated for a moment as you approached your desk, dropping your bag down with a soft sigh.

You glanced at the stack of files waiting for you. “Yes, I have like 20 files to get through,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m going to need that coffee.” 

Spencer smiled. “I’ll make you one,” he said, his tone soft as he set his own bag down on his desk. He didn’t waste a moment before heading toward the break room, but not before he threw one last comment over his shoulder. “I’ll help you with some of your files later.” 

He didn’t wait for your response, though Emily could already predict what it would have been—a quick “No, that’s fine.”

You didn’t want him to do too much for you, but Spencer had this way of offering help, and even though you would have rather tackled the work yourself, you knew it would have been pointless to argue with him. 

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to slip out as you watched him leave. You turned your attention back to the files, your hand instinctively covering your mouth to keep yourself from letting out the giggle that bubbled up in your chest. 

Emily saw her opportunity and took it.

Without hesitation, she walked into the breakroom, where Spencer was carefully pulling two mugs from the cupboard.

One was your favorite—white with a print of Snoopy lying on his red doghouse. Spencer had gotten it for you on your birthday after overhearing you talk about how much you loved Snoopy as a kid.

The other mug was his—bright yellow, with an image of Woodstock perched happily on a branch. 

That one had been your gift to him. 

Emily still remembered the way Spencer had reacted when he unwrapped it, his fingers brushing over the design as realization dawned on his face.

“Snoopy and Woodstock have to stay together,” you had said with a grin, eyes twinkling with amusement. 

For a moment, he had just stared at the mug, lips parted as if he couldn’t quite find the words. Then, without thinking, he had pulled you into a tight hug. You had stiffened for half a second, caught off guard, before melting into his embrace.

Emily had caught the entire moment from across the room, sharing an exasperated look with JJ. The two of you were so painfully oblivious to what was right in front of you.

Now, standing in the breakroom, she cleared her throat.

“Morning, Spencer,” Emily greeted, reaching for a cup of her own. 

Spencer, clearly lost in his own thoughts, blinked at her before nodding. “Morning, Emily.”

He carefully poured coffee into the Snoopy mug first, taking his time, as if it was second nature to prepare yours before his own. 

“Have a good weekend?” she asked casually, watching him with thinly veiled curiosity. 

He glanced at her briefly before continuing his task. “Yeah. I was happy to have some days off,” he said with a small nod, carefully placing your cup aside before starting on his own. “You?” 

“Yeah. Thanks,” Emily replied, swirling her own coffee absentmindedly. She was biding her time, figuring out the best way to ease into the conversation she really wanted to have. 

“Did you do anything fun?” she asked, the question innocent enough but leading somewhere more intentional. 

Spencer shook his head. “Not really.” 

Emily hummed. “You know, you should do something fun.” 

Spencer finally glanced at her, a little suspicious now. He knew Emily too well to think she was just making small talk. She wasn’t one for casual, meaningless conversation. 

She didn’t say anything else right away, though. Instead, she took a slow sip of her coffee, eyes drifting through the breakroom window, settling on you. 

You were sitting at your desk, chewing absentmindedly on the end of a pencil, clearly lost in thought. Your brows were furrowed as you studied whatever was in front of you, your lips pursed slightly.

It was such a small, unconscious habit, but Spencer had noticed it long ago. He had seen you do it a dozen times when you were concentrating, and for some reason, it was something he always found himself captivated by. 

Emily turned her gaze back to Spencer, and—just as she expected—his eyes were already on you. 

And then, just as quickly as he had let himself get lost in the sight of you, he pulled himself away, dropping his gaze back to his coffee as if it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. 

Emily smirked. Gotcha. 

“She’s good for you, you know,” Emily said, her voice softer now. 

Spencer’s grip tightened slightly around the handle of his mug. He stared at her for a moment. 

Then, just as quickly, he looked away again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered. 

Emily chuckled. “Spencer.” 

He sighed, shaking his head, but Emily could tell he wasn’t annoyed. Just… hesitant. 

“You should tell her,” she said, shrugging. 

Spencer swallowed, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested against the counter. “It’s not that simple,” he finally admitted. 

Emily tilted her head. “Why not?” 

Spencer didn’t answer. Not immediately, anyway. But he didn’t have to. 

Emily already knew. 

She knew Spencer was afraid. Afraid of ruining what he had with you. Afraid that you didn’t feel the same way. Afraid that, after everything he’d been through, he wasn’t allowed to have something good. 

"She likes you too, you know that, right?" 

Spencer stilled, the metal spoon clinking softly against the ceramic mug as he hesitated. Emily’s words hung in the air between them, impossible to ignore. 

His grip on the spoon tightened slightly before he forced himself to continue stirring his coffee, feigning indifference.

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, his voice quieter than before. 

Emily huffed. “Spencer, you’re a genius. Do you really expect me to believe that you haven’t noticed the way she looks at you? The way she leans into you when you talk, the way she lights up when you’re around?” She tilted her head, eyes sharp as she studied him. “She likes you, Spencer. And you like her. So why are you making this so complicated?” 

Spencer swallowed, staring down into the dark liquid in his mug. “Because… because what if I ruin it?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but Emily heard him. 

Her expression softened slightly. “You won’t.” 

Spencer let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You don’t know that either.” 

Emily sighed. She could see it now—the self-doubt, the hesitation, the fear that had been planted deep within him after everything that had happened. After losing so much.

He was afraid of getting too close, afraid that if he let himself have this, it would eventually be taken from him, just like everything else. 

Her voice gentled. “Spence, it’s okay to let her in.” 

He glanced up at her then, his eyes conflicted, torn between hope and uncertainty. 

“She’s already in,” Emily continued. “You just haven’t let yourself admit it yet.” 

Spencer exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly.

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to let himself have this—have you. But that lingering fear, that quiet voice in the back of his mind, kept telling him that if he did, he’d lose you too. 

Emily must have sensed his hesitation because she suddenly reached over and took the spoon from his hand, placing it on the counter with a firm clink. 

“Talk to her,” she said simply. “Or don’t. But don’t sit here and pretend like this doesn’t exist. Because we both know it does.” 

Spencer stared at her, then down at the two mugs once again.

Snoopy and Woodstock.

A pair that was always meant to be together. 

And then, before Emily could say anything else, he grabbed both mugs and walked out of the breakroom—straight toward you. 

Emily watched as Spencer placed the coffee in front of you. You barely even glanced at the mug before flashing him a wide, grateful smile as you wrapped your hands around the warm ceramic.

Spencer’s lips quirked into a soft smile, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than necessary. Emily caught the way his fingers twitched at his side, the way he hesitated—as if debating something in his head. Then, as if gathering every ounce of courage he had, he took a deep breath. 

And then—he said something. 

Emily couldn’t hear it from where she stood, but whatever it was made you freeze. Your mouth dropped open slightly, eyes widening in surprise. 

For a brief, agonizing second, Spencer looked like he regretted saying it, his expression shifting into something nervous, almost panicked. His fingers flexed at his sides, waiting for you to react. 

Then, suddenly—your face broke into a huge smile. 

A real one. The kind that made your eyes crinkle at the corners. The kind that held no hesitation, no uncertainty. The kind that answered whatever question Spencer had just asked. 

You nodded. Quickly. Eagerly. Almost as if you couldn’t believe it had taken this long. 

And Spencer—who had been watching you anxiously—grinned. A wide, relieved, genuine grin. 

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his whole body seeming to relax. His fingers tapped lightly against his leg before he instinctively reached up to push his hair behind his ear, a nervous habit that Emily had seen a million times before.

Only this time, it was different. 

This time, he was happy. 

He glanced at Emily from the side, as if checking to see if she had seen everything unfold. 

Emily, still watching, simply smirked and shot him a small, knowing smile. 

Finally. 

[moonstruckme]

Prince Sirius plz? 🥺 only if you want to

Thank you for requesting!

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’d thought originally that the dinner was set remarkably early, but three hours in, when everyone had finally stood from the table after the fourth course, you finally understood why you’d sat down to eat midafternoon. You’re beginning to worry you’ll be here all night. You wonder if princesses are allowed to fake headaches. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, relieved that the baron whose name you can’t recall seems to be exiting the conversation. “It was really lovely meeting you.” 

He inclines his head, smiling in a way you can’t decipher. (Is he onto you, or is he just being kind? He’s been perfectly friendly while you’ve spoken, but for all you know he could go and snitch to the Queen about what an embarrassment you are straight away.) “You as well,” he says politely. “I hope we’ll have a chance to get to know each other better soon.” 

“Oh, I’m sure we will,” you reply, though of course you’re sure of nothing. For the life of you, you can’t even conjure an idea of who this man is. But thankfully, he’s backing away without seeming to have noticed your ignorance. “Nice speaking to you!” 

You take a breath once he’s gone, glancing around to be sure no one else has set their sights on you for the moment. The atmosphere in the dining room really isn’t as intimidating as it feels in your head. The decor screams old money, but the dark wood table and chairs make things feel a bit more cozy, and a gas fireplace at one end of the room keeps you all warm while casting a natural, orangey light on the people closest. You’d gravitated towards it instinctively, not realizing that of course everyone else would do the same. You cover a yawn with your hand, somehow at once on edge and exhausted.

“Well done.” You jump at the smooth voice behind you, only to recognize it a second later. Your head turns just as Sirius comes around you, a brief touch to your elbow serving as an apology for startling you. He’s smiling, that practiced, extra-suave one you’ve become familiar with seeing at these functions. 

“That was good,” he tells you. “Did you know who that was?” 

You shake your head, smiling too in relief at seeing him. “No clue.” 

Sirius inclines his head like suspected. There’s a sparkle in the corner of his eye as it catches the light, and you realize he’s wearing an almost imperceptible amount of glittery makeup. Your lips give a tug. You’ve noticed that whenever Sirius is with his family, he’ll do anything to set himself apart from them—whatever he thinks he can get away with. He slouches, or he talks to someone his parents appear to be shunning, or he wears a dark gray just slightly distinguishable from their pitch black. You can’t help but admire his boldness; stepping even an inch out of line with any of the royals you’ve met terrifies you, and from what you’ve gleaned Sirius’ parents aren’t the most forgiving of the bunch. 

“Well,” he says, “you passed it off rather well. You know he was flirting with you, right?” 

You feel your mouth drop open before the tilt of Sirius’ lips reminds you to close it. “He was not.” 

“Oh, come on.” Sirius raises a brow. “He wasn’t being subtle about it, don’t tell me you didn’t notice. He asked for you to show him around the grounds.” 

“That seems normal.” 

“Doll, you’ve been at the palace less than a month. Everyone here tonight knows these grounds better than you do. He obviously only wanted to be alone with you.” 

The reminder of your newness doesn't sting because you know Sirius doesn’t mean for it to. Your ignorance, however, is like a bruise that keeps being pressed every day you’re here. 

“Oh god,” you close your eyes, laughing despairingly. “What am I supposed to do about that?” 

“Don’t worry.” Sirius gifts you with another smile, one of his real ones. “Word will get out that we’re courting soon enough, and anyone who has less-than-professional intentions will know to keep away.”

“Right. Okay.” The idea of yours and Sirius’ fake courting doesn’t frighten you as much as it did at the conception of the plan. At the moment, you actually find it rather reassuring. You catch yourself covering another yawn. 

Sirius tuts. “Long night, hm? Poor thing.” 

Warmth tickles your cheeks. There’s teasing in the bent of his voice, but Sirius’ expression is tender, genuine. His eyes hold an increasingly familiar kindness. 

“This has gone longer than I thought it would,” you admit. “This dress isn’t super comfortable, either. When you said it would be nice, I was thinking I’d be wearing a nice sweater, not anything as formal as this.” 

Sirius shrugs, the shoulders of his suit jacket moving stiffly. “I know; it’s a lot of posturing. You look stunning, if that’s any consolation.” 

You bite down on a shy smile. You’ve learned the best way to endure Sirius’ compliments, since he won’t stop giving them, is simply to brush right past. He doles them out like candy anyway. “Do women always have to wear dresses to these things?” He nods, and you grimace. “It seems a little…” 

“Elitist? Pompous? Misogynistic?”

“I was going to say old fashioned.” 

Sirius grins. “You’re kinder than I am, gorgeous.” 

You almost roll your eyes, but stop yourself when you remember you’re not alone. 

Sirius glances around, lowering his voice. “If you want to leave,” he says, “we could always say you’re showing me around the grounds.” 

Your lips give a tug. “Didn’t you just say that was an obvious excuse?” 

“So what? We’re supposed to be courting anyway. Our families will probably have a toast the minute after we sneak off.” 

You shake your head at him, still fighting a grin. “You are going to absolutely entrench me in scandal, aren’t you?” 

Sirius’ eyelid sparkles as he drops one in a wink. “Sooner or later.” 

“Fair enough. Let me show you about the grounds,” you say, voice just barely loud enough for the courtier lingering nearest you to hear as you loop your arm through Sirius’. His brazenness must be catching. He puts on a good show of looking pleased and eager as you lead him towards the door. You lean over, murmuring, “Do you think we can change, too? I’m desperate for my cozies.” 

Sirius grins at you as though you’ve said something wonderful. He fits his arm around your waist, drawing you close just as you exit the room. 

“You’re adorable,” he says, the pretension gone from his voice now that you’re alone. “Of course we can. You’ll have to lend me your sweatpants again, though; I won’t be left out.” 

[pucksandpower]

Silverstone Silver Linings

Charles Leclerc x Oscar Piastri x George Russell x Reader

Summary: the British Grand Prix was a difficult race for all three of your boys, luckily you have an idea to make it better

The hotel room door clicks open, revealing three dejected figures silhouetted in the hallway. Charles, Oscar, and George shuffle inside, their clothing rumpled and their expressions downcast.

You sit up on the bed, concern etching your features as you take in their defeated postures. “Oh, darlings,” you murmur, opening your arms. “Come here.”

The three drivers gravitate towards you, drawn by the comfort you offer. Charles flops face-first onto the bed with a muffled groan. Oscar perches on the edge, running a hand through his tousled hair. George paces restlessly, unable to settle.

“That was ... not ideal,” Oscar says, his voice strained.

You reach out to stroke his back soothingly. “I know, love. You all drove brilliantly, though. Sometimes things just don’t go to plan.”

George lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s putting it mildly. A bloody water system issue? After starting on pole? It’s like the universe was laughing at me.”

“At least you didn’t have to suffer through the whole race,” Charles mumbles into the duvet. “I felt like such an idiot out there.”

You frown, tugging gently at Charles’ shoulder until he rolls over to face you. “Hey now, none of that talk. You followed the call that seemed right at the time because you trusted your team. How were you supposed to know the rain would stop and Ferrari fed you wrong information?”

Charles sighs, his eyes meeting yours. “I know, I know. It’s just ... frustrating. I thought maybe this would be our weekend, you know?”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Tell me about it. P2 felt so close I could taste it. Then being held out without pitting ...” He trails off, shaking his head.

You pull Oscar closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You showed everyone what you’re capable of today. That won’t be forgotten.”

George finally stops pacing, sinking onto the bed next to you. “I just feel so ... helpless. Like no matter what I do, something always goes wrong.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands. “You can’t control everything. What matters is how you handle the setbacks.”

Charles props himself up on an elbow, a hint of a smile finally tugging at his lips. “She’s right, you know. We’re lucky to have such a wise girlfriend.”

Oscar chuckles softly. “And a patient one. How do you put up with three moody drivers?”

You grin, playfully ruffling his hair. “It’s not easy, but someone’s got to do it.”

George leans into your touch, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “We don’t deserve you, truly.”

“Nonsense,” you reply, pulling him closer. “You all deserve the world. And I intend to remind you of that.”

Charles’ eyes spark with interest as he finally seems to notice your attire. “Is that ... new?” He asks, gesturing to the lacy ensemble.

You blush slightly, a coy smile playing on your lips. “Maybe. I thought you boys might need some cheering up after the race.”

Oscar’s gaze roams appreciatively over you. “Well, consider me thoroughly distracted.”

George grins, some of his usual charm returning. “You know, I’m suddenly feeling much better about that DNF.”

You laugh, the sound bright and infectious. “Good. That was rather the point.”

Charles sits up fully, his earlier despondency forgotten as he drinks in the sight of you. “You are far too good to us, mon amour.”

“Never,” you insist, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “You all work so hard. You deserve to feel appreciated.”

Oscar’s hand finds yours, squeezing gently. “How did we get so lucky?”

You turn to him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m the lucky one, darling.”

George wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “I beg to differ,” he murmurs against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Charles watches the exchange with darkening eyes. “Perhaps we should show our appreciation more ... thoroughly?”

You bite your lip, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. “I certainly wouldn’t object.”

Oscar’s fingers trail along your collarbone, feather-light. “Where should we start?”

“I have a few ideas,” George says with a roguish grin, his earlier frustration melting away.

You laugh, playfully swatting at his chest. “I’m sure you do, Mr. Russell.”

Charles moves behind you, his arms encircling your waist as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “And what about you, chérie? What do you desire?”

Your breath catches as Oscar’s hand skims up your thigh. “I ... I just want you all to feel better.”

George cups your face, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “Oh, we feel much better already. But we’d like to return the favor.”

Oscar nods in agreement, his voice low. “Let us take care of you for a change.”

You melt into their touches, overwhelmed by the love and desire radiating from all three men. “Well, when you put it that way ...”

Charles chuckles, the sound vibrating against your back. “I think that’s a yes, hmm?”

George’s lips capture yours in a searing kiss, effectively silencing any further discussion. You lose yourself in the sensations, grateful for the chance to comfort your boys and be comforted in return.

As clothes are shed and caresses grow bolder, the disappointments of the day fade away. In this moment, there is only love, passion, and the unbreakable bond between the four of you.

Later, as you lie tangled together in a blissful haze, Charles breaks the comfortable silence. “You know, I think I’ve changed my mind about today.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Charles nods, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Mhm. Any day that ends like this can’t be all bad.”

George laughs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. “I have to agree. Though I still wouldn’t mind a do-over of that race.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Always the competitors, aren’t you?”

Oscar grins, pulling you closer. “Can you blame us? We like to win.”

“Well,” you say with a mischievous smile, “I’d say you all won today, wouldn’t you?”

Charles’ eyes sparkle with amusement. “Absolutely. Though I think we should double-check, just to be sure.”

George nods solemnly, though his lips twitch with suppressed laughter. “Very true. We wouldn’t want any doubt about the results.”

You giggle as Oscar’s fingers find a ticklish spot on your ribs. “And how do you propose we do that?”

The three drivers exchange a look, matching grins spreading across their faces. “I’m sure we can think of something,” Oscar says, his voice full of promise.

As hands begin to wander once more, you send up a silent prayer of thanks for these three incredible men and the love you share. No matter what challenges they face on the track, you know that together, you can weather any storm.

[callsign-mayhem]

to the moon and back

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Mitchell!Reader Word Count: 5.2k

You are the daughter of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell and the lifelong best friend of Bradley Bradshaw. Nothing has ever been able to get in between the two of you, not even the feelings you’ve been harbouring for him for as long as you can remember. But when you both get called to Top Gun for what seems to be a suicide mission, you realise that life is too short to keep your love for him a secret.

Y/CS - your call sign

Use of Y/N but no description of reader

You couldn’t remember the last time you laid eyes on Bradley Bradshaw, and if you’d known you would be this affected by the mere sight of him then you would have better prepared yourself. He was in his rightful place behind the piano at The Hard Deck, performing ‘Great Balls of Fire’ with all his usual enthusiasm, and then some. His infectious personality had every person in the bar gravitating towards him, belting out the lyrics along with him as though their lives depended on it. You had to draw from every reserve of strength you had so as not to march right up to him and kiss him senseless. You’d missed him so much.

Being deployed had been difficult for you and had felt like exactly the wrong thing at the time, but eventually you realised that it was what you needed. If you’d stayed, it would have only been a matter of time until you spilt your guts to Bradley about the feelings you’d been harbouring for him since you were teenagers.

The song was almost over and so was your time for composing yourself. It was ridiculously warm in the packed bar, so taking a deep breath was no good. You resigned yourself to a few shots of something strong - liquid courage if you will - and headed to the bar to speak to Penny.

‘Y/N!’ she exclaimed, ‘what are you doing here?’ ‘I have no idea,’ you told her, ‘an assignment of some sort. I find out more tomorrow,’ you gestured to Bradley and a few of your other friends from the academy, ‘and apparently I’m not the only one they called. I don’t know whether I should be worried or relieved.’ ‘Your dad was just in here. He know you’re back?’ ‘Yeah, I haven’t seen him yet though,’ you gestured to the bottle of Jack behind her, ‘can I get one of those, please? Or three?’ Penny reached for the bottle and a shot glass. ‘Not wasting any time, huh?’ You glanced behind you to where Phoenix was patting Bradley on the back and getting everyone to cheer for him, ‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen these guys.’ ‘You mean it’s been a while since you saw Rooster,’ she smiled knowingly. You downed your shot and slammed the tiny glass back down. Penny refilled it immediately, ‘That too,’ you admitted with a wince. ‘You already know what I’m going to say.’ ‘Yes, and you already know why I can’t tell him.’

You downed your second shot and just as you were about to do your third, someone covered your eyes with their hand. You knew who it was without having to hear him speak or look at his face because you’d know him deaf and blind. Hell, you’d know him in death.

The familiar rumble of his voice in your ear set your entire nervous system alight: ‘Guess who.’ ‘Hmm,’ you pretended to think, ‘I don’t know. Hangman?’ Rooster scoffed, ‘I haven’t seen you in two years and the first thing you do is insult me? Glad to know some things never change, Y/CS.’

You spun around and looped your arms around his neck, pressing your face into the side of his. He lifted you off the floor and spun you around with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, laughing like a little kid. It felt like no time at all had passed.

‘And you’re still shooting whiskey like it’s water,’ he noted, setting you down gently, ‘so you definitely haven’t changed.’

You drank him in hungrily, trying to act like you weren’t totally out of control on the inside. In one of his dad’s old Hawaiian shirts with his aviators perched on the tip of his nose, he wasn’t exactly a brand new man. Something about him was different, though, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Even as the two of you had gotten older, you’d always seen him as the goofy kid in the cowboy hat that could make you laugh on the darkest days. Throughout high school and your time at the academy, he’d been the person you confided in about everything, and the only secret you’d ever kept from him was your ever-growing feelings for him. But now, after just over two years apart, he felt more like a stranger than ever before. Nothing had changed, but everything had changed, and you were struggling to figure out how that could be.

‘You want a beer?’ you asked. ‘Sure, but no more shots for you. We gotta be up early and I know if you carry on drinking like that you won’t get out of bed.’ ‘When you’re right, you’re right.’

You got Rooster a beer and a JD and coke for yourself before heading over to the rest of the group. There were a few people whose reputations preceded them but you’d never met in real life, and then there was Phoenix, one of your closest friends from the academy. When she saw you she practically jumped on you and Rooster had to take your drink from your hand so it didn’t spill everywhere.

‘Y/CS!’ ‘Hey,’ you giggled, ‘Phoenix, it’s great to see you too but I can’t breathe.’ ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she relented, ‘how’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since your deployment. When did you get back?’ ‘Couple of months ago,’ you told her, ‘I’ve been in South Carolina.’ ‘You’ve been back months?’ Rooster cut in, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘You know how it is, Roo,’ you said, ‘you get deployed, come home and your whole life is upside down for a while. By the time you’ve settled back in, weeks have gone by and you still haven’t had a chance to see anyone.’

He nodded, but his hurt was apparent. Hangman sidled up next to you and you’d never been more relieved by his incredibly annoying presence. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, hugging you tight. He was a massive ass, but you’d somehow ended up friends while being stationed together a few years ago. A lot of his bravado was an act, and when he let his guard down he was actually a great person to talk to.

‘Y/N Mitchell,’ he said, ‘Long time no see.’ ‘Can’t say I’m mad about that.’ His usual shit-eating grin was plastered across his face, ‘You and I both know that’s a lie.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, Seresin.’

Everyone makes small talk for a while and those who have never met before are introduced. You pull a barstool over and sit next to Bob, Phoenix’s new back-seater. She’s the first one to point out the elephant in the room.

‘So anybody know what this ‘special detachment’s’ all about?’ ‘A mission’s a mission,’ Hangman replies, ‘They don’t confront me. What I wanna know is who’s team leader. And which’a ya’ll have what it takes to follow me?’ Hangman winks at Rooster, needling him, ‘Hangman, the only place you’ll ever lead anyone is an early grave.’ Hangman looks up from his next shot and walks over to Rooster until they’re standing face to face. ‘Anyone follows you is just gonna… run outta fuel. But then that’s you all over, ain’t it, Rooster? Snug on your perch, waitin’ for juuuuust the right moment. That never comes.’ Rooster tenses visibly and you grab his arm, ‘Hey, you wanna get another drink? Feel like we’ve got some catching up to do.’

You leave the rest of the group to their game and grab a couple more drinks before heading outside. The Bronco is parked out front looking prettier than ever, paintwork glinting in the late-evening sunlight. If you had a dollar for the amount of late-night drives you and Bradley had taken in that thing, you’d be a billionaire.

You intended to sit at one of the tables outside The Hard Deck, but Rooster had other ideas. You ignored the swarm of butterflies in your stomach when he took your hand and led you down towards the beach and reminded yourself that you had no reason to be nervous; he was your best friend, he didn’t know about your feelings and nothing had changed.

‘I still can’t believe you’ve been back months and you didn’t tell me.’ You cringed, ‘I’m sorry, Bradley. I should’ve called, I know.’ ‘Mav know you’re back?’ Yeah, he’s here too.’

Your father was a touchy conversation subject and you tried to avoid talking about him as much as possible. Once you’d eventually realised that there was no way of convincing Rooster that everything he’d done had come from a place of love and concern, you’d given up trying to keep the peace. It was difficult, letting him fester in his own anger, but it wasn’t your fight. However, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t still holding out hope that things would go back to the way they used to be someday.

‘How’ve you been, anyway?’ you asked, swiftly changing the subject, ‘What’s new in your life?’ ‘The usual. Getting called down here is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in months.’ You laughed, ‘That can’t be true. What happened to the girl you were dating?’ ‘Molly? Jesus Christ, that was over as quickly as it started. I stopped seeing her not long after you left,’ he sipped his beer, ‘what about you? Meet your future husband while you were away?’ ‘Nope,’ you sighed, ‘starting to think I’m destined to be alone forever.’ ‘What about Hangman?’ Rooster asked, Jake’s callsign sounding like ashes in his mouth.

To call your brief fling with Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin a mistake would have been putting it lightly. You’d been stationed together in Alabama for a little while and he was the only familiar person there so, naturally, you’d gravitated towards him and him to you. After getting to know each other better, one thing had led to another and you’d ended up sleeping together after one too many JD and cokes. That one night had led to another and another until you were pretty much dating, although neither of you had ever mentioned putting any kind of label on whatever it was the two of you had going on. Rooster had been up in arms when he found out, yelling at you down the phone that Jake was a complete and total asshole and that you deserved so much better, leading to the worst - and only - fight you’d ever had.

While getting involved with Jake was definitely a mistake and you didn’t plan on walking down that particular path ever again, you still stood by what you said in his defence: you have to get to know him in order to understand him.

‘You already know that’s over.’

Rooster looked at you and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You’d never wanted to kiss him more in your entire life.

‘I’ve got no idea why we’re here,’ he said, ‘but I’m glad you’re with me, Y/N.’ ‘Me too, Bradley. Me too.’

-

The special detachment, as it turned out, was a suicide mission. There was no other way of putting it. Your dad was immensely proud of you and your accomplishments and had never once doubted your abilities as a pilot, but he wasn’t happy that you were on this particular mission. He wasn’t happy that Rooster was on it either. After your first day of training, you went to dinner with your old man so you could catch up and talk about what you’d be in for over the course of the next couple of weeks. You hadn’t realised just how much you’d missed him until you were sitting in front of him, but part of you wished it was under different circumstances.

‘Surely me being part of the team you’re training goes against some kind of rule,’ you said around a mouthful of steak. ‘The stakes are so high, I think mostly every rule has already gone out the window.’ ‘I haven’t been this scared since I climbed in a cockpit for the first time,’ you admitted, ‘but I’ve also never wanted to be on a mission more.’ Your dad smiled, but there was fear in his eyes, ‘I don’t like that look, Y/N.’ ‘It’s the only one I got, Dad, and I got it from you.’ ‘Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.’

-

White hot rage blinded you like a fire poker between your eyes. The minute Rooster walked through the doors you were racing up to him. Jake had to grab both of your arms and pull you off him to prevent you from swinging at him.

‘What the fuck was that Bradshaw?!’ you roared, ‘You got a fucking death wish?!’

He ran a hand through his hair, face flushed from the heat and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You weren’t just angry at him for endangering his life, or your dad’s, for that matter, you were angry because you understood why he’d done it. And you knew that if you were in his shoes and you were up there with something to prove, you’d have done the exact same thing.

‘Can we not do this here?’

You shrugged Jake off and straightened out your flight suit, leading Bradley out of the room. He followed you outside into the blazing heat of the San Diego sun where you preceded to turn around and punch him so hard in the shoulder that he took a step back.

‘Jesus, Y/N,’ he huffed, ‘was that really necessary?’ ‘I don’t know, was nearly killing yourself and my dad really necessary?’ ‘I had it under control!’ You laughed humourlessly,  ‘Yeah, it looked like it.’ ‘I’m not gonna have this fight with you,’ he said matter-of-factly, ‘I’m sorry for scaring you, but you have to understand-’ ‘I do understand!’ you screamed, ‘But just because I understand, doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed as hell!’

He pulled you flush against his chest and you softened immediately, unable to resist the comfort and security that came with one of Bradley’s bear hugs. If you had it your way, you’d stay in his arms like this for the rest of time.

‘You really need to have it out with Mav,’ you mumbled into his flight suit, ‘this is getting beyond ridiculous - it’s dangerous.’ He kissed the top of your head, ‘I know.’

-

You had to admit, dog fight football was a stroke of genius on your dad’s part. It was the perfect way to relieve any tensions between the team and also take everyone’s minds off the upcoming mission. Jake and Bradley - the two team captains - tossed a coin to decide who would pick first, and Jake ended up picking you. You suspected he did it just to get underneath Bradley’s skin, and judging by the set of his jaw as you marched over to Jake, his plan worked.

You also had Payback on your team, and between the two of you, you were carrying the whole game. You didn’t like to toot your own horn but… toot toot.

‘Come on Bradshaw!’ you yelled, smirking devilishly, ‘You really gonna let me kick your ass so spectacularly in front of everyone?!’ ‘You’ve got Payback! It ain’t fair!’ ‘Oh, so you don’t think we could win without him?!’

He was holding one of the balls and was preoccupied with insulting you, so when you ran at him at full force and snatched it right out of his hands, he was too stunned to try and stop you. Hangman and Payback both cheered, but as soon as Bradley refocused he was on your heels, and he had the advantage of extremely long legs.

Just before you could score, he came up behind you and wrapped both of his arms around your middle, lifting you off the ground and throwing you over his shoulder. You were so startled you dropped the ball and unluckily for you, Coyote was right there to pick it up and score another point for their team.

‘Put me down you cheat!’

Rooster was laughing so hard you could feel him shaking with it as he ran. He didn’t stop running until he reached the water and it was up to his waist, and then he dropped you in. It was freezing but actually quite a relief after running around in the sun all afternoon. You came up for air coughing and sputtering to find him doubled over with laughter, and you took the opportunity to drag him back down with you, pushing his head down further under the water. You knew you wouldn’t be able to overpower him long and before you could even comprehend what was happening he had a tight grip on both of your thighs, yanking you back under.

If not for the fact that it all happened so quickly, you would have spent more time revelling in the feeling of his big hands wrapped around the tops of your thighs. Your whole body broke out in goosebumps, and you knew it wasn’t from the chill of the water. When you both resurfaced you were smiling like fools and laughing like two lovesick teenagers, and you never wanted the moment to end.

‘Hey!’ Hangman called out, ‘Are you two still playing or what? I’ve got a game to win!’ With an eye roll, you yelled back: ‘Yeah we’re still playing, you couldn’t win without me anyway!’

Somehow, Rooster’s sunglasses had remained on his face throughout the entire fiasco, and you reached out and gently slid them off. He blinked against the sunlight and watched in awe as you put them on.

‘Did I say you could wear those?’ he asked. ‘Did I ask your permission?’

The two of you made your way back towards the rest of the squad, and it looked like your team was back in the lead. A sly remark about Rooster’s sabotage failing was on the tip of your tongue, but then he put his hand on your waist and pulled you into his side, ruffling the top of your head affectionately. The skin-on-skin contact was enough to drive you insane, and your words died on your lips.

‘Keep them,’ he murmured, ‘they look better on you anyway.’

-

When the mission got moved up, any calmness you felt dissipated like water on the hot asphalt of a runway. Your dad was now team leader and you had mixed feelings about it. You’d spent your whole life fearing for him, but knowing he was going on this mission really took the cake. And then there was the small issue of you being his kid, which would undoubtedly cloud his judgement when it came to selecting the rest of his team. For one, the chances of him even wanting you on the mission were slim to none, but then there was the worry that if he chose you, it would be seen as favouritism.

The final day of training was over and you’d been told to go and get some rest before tomorrow, and despite your exhaustion, you knew that if you were to lay down in your bunk now sleep wouldn’t come. It was one of those rare moments where the sky over Fightertown was empty and as a result, an eerie quiet had settled over the base. You were still in full flight gear - minus your helmet - sitting on the ground in the shade provided by the wing of your F/A-18. Before settling in for the night you still had to find time to shower, get something to eat and see your dad, but you were paralysed.

You dreaded to think how long you would’ve sat there if Rooster hadn’t suddenly materialised. He sat down opposite, stretching his long legs out so they were on either side of you.

‘What are you still doing out here?’ he asked gently, ‘You feeling okay?’

You were fiddling with your dog tags, a nervous tic you’d picked up in the academy, and Rooster never failed to notice. Looking into your eyes earnestly, he took both of your hands in his.

‘Talk to me, Y/CS.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I’ve never been this nervous about a mission before. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ ‘This is the highest-stakes mission either of us has ever gone on in our careers. I would be worrying if you weren’t nervous.’ ‘Yeah, but you know me, Roo. I don’t do nerves.’ ‘You think I’m not shitting my pants at the thought of having to fly tomorrow?’ You laughed despite the lump in the base of your throat, ‘You hide it better than me, then.’ ‘You can’t keep anything off your face, Y/N. I always know what you’re feeling.’ ‘You do?’

Your heart dropped at the thought of him being able to read you so well, but in hindsight, you should have known. You’d literally been destined to be best friends since before you were born, since your dads stayed up late one night talking about their futures, wondering if they’d have kids and how well they’d get along. As far as you knew, he’d never kept anything from you, and you’d only ever kept one thing from him. You lived your life at the same pace, shared the same moral compass and wanted all the same things. You finished each other’s sentences and could have secret conversations through facial expressions, without even having to speak. If he called, you answered. If he needed you, you ran to him, and vice versa.

You didn’t need him to confirm your worst fear: he knew you were in love with him. There was no doubt in your mind and you were a fool not to have seen it sooner.

As though he’d read your mind and sensed the worsening of your anxiety, he changed the subject.

‘What do you say we go and grab a bite to eat?’ ‘Like a last supper?’ Bradley laughed, ‘You can be really morbid sometimes, you know that?’

-

‘It’s been an honour flying with you,’ your dad said, ‘each one of you represents the best of the best. This is a very specific mission. My choice is a reflection of that, and nothing more.’ ‘Choose your two Foxtrot teams.’ Cyclone told him.

You fought the urge to vomit down your flight suit.

‘Phoenix and Bob. Y/CS and Payback.’

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘And your wingman.’

The tension in the air was palpable. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck.

‘Rooster.’

You could feel Bradley’s eyes on you, but judging by the unpleasant feeling that had overcome you, turning around to face him wouldn’t be a smart idea. For one, he more than likely looked just as nauseous as you and seeing him like that would only cause your anxiety to skyrocket. Secondly, he was the one person you could be completely vulnerable in front of and since it was already taking every ounce of your strength not to cry, it was probably best not to engage.

For the next hour, the seconds passed you by like cars on a highway. You listened to Warlock explain the mission for the final time, but his words went in one ear and came out the other. You stayed at Payback’s side up until it was time to go, but just as you were heading out to the flight deck, your dad pulled you aside for the conversation you’d been anticipating since he said your name.

His expression was, as ever, unreadable and you decided that it was probably a good thing that you didn’t know exactly what he was feeling in that moment. If Maverick was nervous, then you really had something to worry about.

He pulled you close and squeezed you tight, and you let out a single, strangled sob.

‘I know you can do this.’ ‘Me too,’ you were clinging onto him for dear life, ‘but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified.’ ‘If I didn’t believe in you completely, I wouldn’t have chosen you.’ ‘I know, Dad.’ ‘I love you, Y/N.’ ‘I love you too. I’ll see you when we get back.’

He kissed the top of your head before letting you go and you headed out to the flight deck together. Payback was already waiting for you, but it seemed as though there was one more conversation to be had. Maverick patted Rooster on the back as he passed, throwing one final glance back at the two of you. All you could do was remind yourself over and over again that you’d be seeing him later and that you’d be going for steaks at your favourite diner back in San Diego before you knew it.

You could tell Rooster didn’t know what to say but it didn’t matter. You already knew, because you were thinking all the same things.

‘When we get home, I have some things I wanna talk to you about.’

He reached out to touch your cheek and you leaned into his hand, almost nuzzling his palm with the side of your face. Hugging him, you decided, would be too final. It would feel like a goodbye, and this wasn’t a goodbye, it was simply ‘see you later.’

‘There are some things I want to talk to you about as well,’ you smiled sheepishly, ‘but if you can read me as well as you say, you already know that.’ ‘Yeah, I know.’ ‘Fly safe, Roo.’ ‘Give ‘em hell, Y/CS.’

-

It wasn’t humanely possible to count how many times you’d flown. It was as natural as breathing oxygen, almost a second thought at this point. Getting into the cockpit of a fighter plane felt more like coming home than walking through the front door of the house you grew up in with your dad.

But nothing could have prepared you for that mission.

And nothing could have prepared you for the immense feeling of sheer panic and terror when your dad was hit. It was as though the bottom of your plane had dropped out and you were in freefall. If that wasn’t horrific enough, Rooster had gone after him. This paired with the chaos of the dogfight was traumatising enough that you’d forgotten how to breathe and what you were supposed to be doing. You had absolutely no idea how Payback managed to talk you down from going after both of them, but he did, as well as calming you down enough so you could fly back to the aircraft carrier.

You weren’t in the habit of being overly emotional in front of anyone who wasn’t Bradley or your father, but when you climbed out of the cockpit and Phoenix was already waiting for you, arms open, you collapsed onto her and broke down. You’d been completely inconsolable up until you got word of Rooster’s signal in an unidentified F-14.

Surprisingly, the relief came after cursing yourself for ever believing that your father could be bested by anyone. At this point, you were almost entirely sure that he was immortal. And as for Bradley, he was much stronger than everyone else realised. He gave Maverick a run for his money, and that was saying something. Phoenix was the only reason you hadn’t collapsed onto the ground when you realised they were okay and coming home, with the help of Hangman, of course. In the back of your mind, you were wondering how long it was going to take to hear the end of it from Jake.

And there you were on the flight deck with Phoenix’s arm around your shoulder and Payback’s around your waist, watching your dad and your best friend make the rockiest landing you’d ever seen. It felt as though all your internal organs were in your throat as you watched the net get thrown out, ready to catch the incoming aircraft and stop it from going overboard. The sound was near-deafening but you hardly noticed with the rushing blood in your ears. As soon as that plane stopped moving, you tore away from Phoenix and Payback and made a beeline towards the F-14, safety concerns be damned.

Your dad climbed out first, somehow steady on his feet despite what he’d just been through. But that was Mav all over, wasn’t it? He didn’t so much as wobble until you threw yourself at him.

‘Dad!’ you shrieked, ‘Are you okay? Are you hurt?’

He held you with the strength of someone who had a newfound value for their own life. He cradled the back of your head with one hand and stroked your hair like he used to when you were small.

‘I’m okay, are you okay?’ ‘You’re seriously asking me that?’ He laughed breathlessly, ‘I’m okay now.’ You squeezed him tighter than ever before, ‘I love you, Dad. I love you so much.’ ‘I love you too,’ he replied, releasing you reluctantly, ‘and I want you to know how proud I am of you for pulling that off.’ ‘It’s in my blood.’ He put his hands on either side of your face and leaned in to kiss your forehead, ‘I think you should go and speak to Rooster,’ he whispered, ‘we’ll talk more afterwards, okay?’

At the mention of Rooster, all the wind was knocked out of you. All you could do was nod at your father before he headed over to the rest of the squad, leaving you alone in front of the battered F-14. Rooster had jumped out right after your dad, but he’d given the two of you some space. You locked eyes like they do in the movies, but this wasn’t a movie. The world didn’t tilt on its axis or stop turning altogether; it was more like the two of you were the only ones in it that actually mattered. Everyone around you might as well have been frozen in time.

He was taking long strides towards you, but he couldn’t get to you quick enough so you ran to meet him halfway, not stopping until your face was mere millimetres away from his. He was filthy, covered in blood, and sweat and God only knew what else, but you were blinded by the light behind his eyes. You’d always been totally mesmerised by him, but this was something else entirely. It was suddenly very apparent to you that you would do anything this man asked of you, follow him down to the eye of any storm, love him until you took your final breath.

‘Y/N-’ ‘Don’t say anything,’ you interjected, ‘I already know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t wanna waste any more time.’

And before he could utter another word, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started out soft but then he ran his fingers through your hair and somehow managed to pull your face even closer, deepening the kiss. He ran his tongue along your lips and you parted them for him, finally tasting him the way you’d wanted to for as long as you could remember. Your veins were thrumming with so much electricity you thought your head might explode. When you eventually parted, the space between you was too much for you to bear (you never wanted there to be any space between you and Bradley ever again) so you looped your arms around his neck just like you always did when you hugged him. His face was full of so much adoration, anyone would think you’d hung the bloody moon in the sky.

‘Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?’ he asked. ‘If it’s anywhere near as long as me, we’re going to be kicking ourselves.’ He kissed the tip of your nose and you damn-near melted, ‘I don’t want to go another day without kissing you like that.’ ‘Neither do I.’

You’d forgotten that the rest of your squad was standing a few feet away, waiting to celebrate with you. When you turned around, they were all cheering for you and Rooster and you could just about make out Phoenix’s ‘finally’ over the sound of Payback’s hoots. You knew you had to go over there and that there would be plenty of time to be alone when you got back to San Diego, but you couldn’t wait until then to tell Bradley how you felt about him. If he hadn’t already guessed.

You had to stand on tip toes to reach his ear, where you whispered: ‘I love you, Bradley Bradshaw. To the moon and back again.’ You felt him shiver beneath your touch. ‘I love you too, Y/N.’

[novasintheroom]

favorite flower - Prince!Vash x Reader

He finds out first that you don’t like roses. The walk in the rose garden comes to a halt when you voice this.

��They’re beautiful,” you say. He still sees the small wrinkle of your nose when you speak of them. “They are just…very common.”

“Common? How so?” Vash asks.

You clasp your hands behind your back. Your foot reaches out to toe at the earth. “They…are a favorite among potential suitors in all kingdoms. Every noble girl receives them.” You look up desperately, willing him to understand something, “It’s as if the suitors do not ask their lady if she even wants them.”

Vash laughs, a little startled. “Don’t all ladies want flowers?”

You sigh, and Vash feels like he missed a mark somehow. “Yes, we do.”

 “Well…wasn’t your bouquet filled with roses at the wedding?”

You tense and look up, face carefully blank. “I didn’t have much choice in anything that day.” After a beat, you continue your walk through the garden.

Vash trails a bit behind, face stinging. He should have known better than to bring up the wedding; it is still a delicate subject. But still, his mind grabs hold on what you said: no choice on that day.

Looking around the immediate garden, he wonders.

--

“If you were married – “

“Stop. I’m not entertaining your delusions today.”

“Just wait!” Vash puts both palms out, willing Nai to stop his work and listen for a moment. His brother looks up from his desk, deadpanned and ill-humored. It never bothers Vash. “If you were married, what kind of flowers would you get your wife?”

Nai pushes a sigh out and goes back to the writing before him. “You’ve already messed up badly enough to warrant flowers?” He scoffs. “What did you do?”

“No! It’s nothing like that.” Vash sighs, pacing around the room. “She told me that she doesn’t like roses. Which, what girl doesn’t like roses?”

“Your wife, apparently.”

Vash groans and pulls a hand down his face. “I want to make her feel comfortable here! We’ve only got a rose garden. What do I give her that isn’t roses?” Nai doesn’t answer. His pen scritches across the paper before him, marking and taking notes. Vash turns to his twin. “So? What would you get your wife?”

Nai takes a breath in and out of his nose. “Lillies. Daisies. I don’t know.”

“No, she doesn’t really like those either…”

A single white brow raises. Nai glances up. “Have you asked her what she would like?”

Vash freezes and clears his throat. “No…”

Nai only shakes his head. “You’ve said yourself how direct she can be with her answers. Why haven’t you asked her?”

Vash slumps into one of the chairs in front of Nai’s desk. “Because…I want to show her I pay attention, without her having to tell me everything.”

Nai finally puts his pen down and regards his brother. What a silly concept. Only Vash would complicate something as simple as an arranged marriage. He dregs up an old memory. “Do you recall what Mother told us about marriage?”

Vash picks at the chair’s leather arm. “She said a lot of things.”

Nai tilts his head. “What I’m referring to is when she said marriage takes commitment and understanding between both parties to succeed. If you don’t ask her what she likes, you are taking away her chance to be understood.”

It makes sense. Of course it does. Mother was always wise in her counsel, even when they were young. But…Vash sighs. He wants to be a good husband. And good husbands notice things about their wives!

Suddenly, an idea hits him. “Maybe,” he says, “I can take her to a flower shop in town, and see what she gravitates towards?”

Nai sighs. Hit and a miss. “Get out.”

--

Despite Nai’s tendency to believe his brother stupid, Vash is not dull. Very, very stubborn, but not dull.

He starts with having servants plant new flowers in the garden. Lilies, poppies, orchids. He takes you on a walk to point them out. You look at them, smile, but nothing more. So, he continues. Tulips, dahlias, carnations, irises. You stop at your favorite colors, point at them and smile again, but nothing that screams, this, this is my favorite flower.

Vash gets down and dirty after that. He helps the servants plant the new flowers, fingers growing dark with dirt and cheeks red from the sun. Bushes of roses are removed to make room for new blooms. It becomes his new hobby, his time off when not in dreaded meetings and other princely duties. He researches flowers, finding exotics from other lands and having them shipped in on his own dime. When they are planted, he looks around at the work and hopes. Then, he fetches you and you take a walk.

After the twelfth time of doing this, you finally ask, “What are you doing, exactly?”

Vash almost trips. “What do you mean?”

You give him a look that makes his heart skip. “We’ve been taking an awful lot of walks lately. And I’ve noticed your work in the garden. It’s very beautiful. But I can tell you’re waiting for something.” You nod your head at his expression. “Speak.”

But he doesn’t want to. He wants to find out for himself! Without realizing, he pouts and shakes his head.

You hook your arm through his and pull him along, a small smile on your face. “Husband,” you say softly, “has this got to do with my not liking roses?”

Vash swallows. His heart pitter patters at being called ‘husband’ so quietly. “What makes you think that?”

Your lips lift more, and with your free hand you gesture around. “There are remarkably less roses in this garden than there were a few weeks ago. More flower varieties as well. You’ve been spending more and more time out here, planting your plants. I’ve been wondering where you have been.”

A sudden guilt overtakes him. “I did not mean to neglect you for this project.”

“Ah, so it is a project.” You pat his arm with your hand. “And you didn’t neglect me; wipe that look off your face.”

You both walk to a part of the garden that sits against the wall of the castle. Red geraniums grow around a stone bench and bird bath, along with small forget-me-nots that twine with the red. You sit at the bench, and Vash sighs. It’s time to come clean. “I did not mean to keep it a secret, but I wanted to find out what your favorite flower was.”

Your brows raise. “So that is it. All of this work, just to find out what I like? You flatter me.” You hesitate before taking his hand, ��But wouldn’t it have been easier if you had merely asked me?”

Vash flushes. “Of course. But I…I wanted to show that I pay attention to what you like and don’t like.” It sounds silly saying it out loud now. He feels it further when you laugh.

“That is very sweet of you. More sweet than I deserve. But I think we should put an end to the mystery and allow the servants to get back to their regular duties, hm?” You lean forward and touch some of the flowers growing under the bench. “I enjoy all flowers, truly – even roses on occasion. But the ones I like most are the small ones – the ones that pollinators can easily get to. Forget-me-nots, baby’s-breath, that sort of thing.” You straighten and look ponderously ahead. “I suppose that would have made a poor bouquet for a royal wedding.”

“No!” He’s emphatic, holding your hand tighter to get you to look at him. “It would have been beautiful! Just having small flowers, it would have been a new start to a tradition!”

You smile. “I hear that’s what village girls do for their weddings – pick whatever small flowers are in bloom for the spring and that is their bouquet. It likely would have just made nobles call me a village girl if I had it my way.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he says, playing with your fingers. “Nothing wrong with any of it.”

“I know,” you say, and grasp his fingers in your own. “Thank you, for trying so hard. I think the garden looks much livelier now than ever.”

It does. There are more butterflies, hummingbirds, and other small creatures around now than there were before. Fat bumblebees buzz low to the ground, picking at the little flowers found there. Vash watches a smaller honeybee land on one of the geraniums nearby, and smiles.

Maybe he could have asked you what your favorite flower was and been done with it. But, as you shyly lay your head on his shoulder, he thinks he likes this arrangement better.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: May 4

2019

[Podfic of] give away the game [david/patrick, E, podfic] by @exmanhater

“So, it occurs to me that I was making some assumptions,” David says, when Patrick opens the door. “Okay,” Patrick says. “About our sex life,” David explains. Patrick raises an eyebrow and leans one shoulder against the door frame. He looks relaxed and ironic, but David can see the little blush splashed across his cheeks. “You’re sure this is a conversation you want to have out in the hallway?”

against the odds [david/patrick, T, 4,219] by Acacius

AU | What if David had said yes to Patrick's invitation to crash at his place in 3x11 ("Stop Saying Lice!")?

Found [alexis/twyla, E, 36,162] by witchplease

Alexis isn't quite sure why she's feeling so drawn to Twyla all of a sudden. She insists she's just trying to be helpful since Twyla broke her foot. David has other ideas, but he doesn't know what he's talking about. (Rating bumped up for later chapters)

heart of blue [david/patrick, G, 1,031] by LoveAndAttention

Imagining a different way David + Patrick’s second kiss could have gone down (post-first kiss from 3x13 with rearranged dialogue and setting).

i'm alright with a slow burn [david/patrick, T, 12,142] by @brewerspatrick

"You totally favor Patrick.” “I do not.” “Oh my god, David, yes, you do! You think I didn’t notice how you always take the leftovers of his bakes instead of anyone else’s?” “He’s a good baker!” David hates that his voice hitches. “‘He’s a good baker’?” Alexis repeats. “You can just say that you’re friends, the world won’t explode if you make a friend other than Stevie.”

shades of blue. [david/patrick, M, 12,226] by @focksii

Actor and Music Superstar, Patrick Brewer, releases his highly anticipated new album, Shades of Blue. (Alexis Rose teases that it’s a visual album.)

Voices In His Head [david/patrick, G, 327] by thisisfromawhileago

This is the last time he listens to the voices in his head.

2020

A Perfect Complement [david/patrick, T, 4,256] by @reginahalliwell

David finds out that Stevie and Patrick get along a little too well.

a spark to light my flame [david/patrick, G, 1,698] by @flashbastard

It’s been months, and he certainly hopes they know each other pretty well by now, but he still thrills at the sight of David like this thing they have is brand new. He’s always aware of where David is in relation to him, like David has some kind of gravitational pull on him. After Singles Week, David and Patrick still have something to say to each other.

Dance of the Clairvoyants [david/patrick, T, 4,233] by pennilesspoet

“David. You are Patrick Brewer’s guardian angel. You are supposed to be watching over him, guiding him, helping him along his path!” “Okay, yes, but Patrick is boring! He is SO boring! He’s a business major who wears straight-leg, mid-range denim!” “That is not the point! You took your eyes off of him, and he has fallen off of his path! He nearly died tonight, David!” David gasps, heart in his throat. Oh no. This was...he was in so much trouble.

Good Morning, Mr. Rose [david/patrick, M, 37,860] by @agoodpersonrose

“Hello David Rose, my name is Patrick Brewer, I am the new maths teacher and I am looking forward to teaching here and getting to know you better.” Patrick says, standing up to attention and sticking a hand out. David doesn’t even try to hide his smile as he reaches for the hand, “nice to meet you.” He says, “does this mean we can pretend that every embarrassing thing that happened today didn’t?” “Oh, absolutely not.” Patrick says, “just the bad stuff, I’m keeping everything else.” OR an AU where David and Patrick meet as teachers at Schitt's Creek High School.

Maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me [david/patrick, E, 5,082] by @vivianblakesunrisebay

Patrick is feeling out of sorts. David helps him out.

not alone anymore [david/patrick, G, 1,043] by @tuatarasa

Patrick pulled away first, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of the same shirt he was wearing for the wedding yesterday. As she let him go, David pulled her closer but she could hear his breath evening out and his sobs subsiding. He barely whispered it but she heard him say, “I don’t want to lose them again.” Marcy’s heart broke. This poor boy has been burned by the people he loved so much that that’s all he has come to expect. It makes the fact that Patrick was able to get through to him all that much more remarkable to her.' Marcy and Clint comfort the kids after Moira and Johnny's departure.

This Will Be Our Year: An Epistolary Peek [david/patrick, T] by @meadowharvest4856

A random sampling of text message images from the year after the finale.

Warmest Regards [stevie & david, M, 1,159] by princesstigerlily

A companion piece to Just as Long as I'm Here in Your Arms, this time an exploration of David and Stevie's friendship through a series of missing conversations. And occasionally more.

2021

[podfic of] we look here and we look there, seeking answers anywhere [alexis/twyla, G, podfic] by idellaphod

Alexis misses her brothers back home in Schitt's Creek.

A Whole Lot to Gain [ted/alexis, G, 1,721] by @kiwiana-writes

A story about identity, gender, and coming out.

breaking open the game [david/patrick, T, 6,375] by @swiftlythebest

But the worst thing, the absolute worst thing about how instantly attracted he was to the new guy on the Cafe Tropical softball team was the fucking cliche of it all. A jock? Really? David felt like he was back in high school, pretending he was too cool to notice the tall boys in their letterman jackets strutting around the school. or, David has a reluctant crush on Jock!Pat.

Collect Me With Your Steady Hand [david/patrick, T, 5,695] by @roseapothecary

David looks down at his hand, and a gold ring catches the light through the blinds. It’s not one he’d choose for himself, at least not in his right mind. It’s a little on the thin side, for one, and a little too… round, making it simultaneously too small and too bulky. It’s hard to explain. See, David prefers flatter rings, like the silver ones that line his right hand. And, actually, he’s not totally convinced this thing is it’s 24-karat gold (or even 16-karat), while he’s at it; it shines a bit more like gold-dipped sterling silver and the thought of that is almost as horrifying as the ring being on his finger in general. Almost. “What the fuck is that? ” he asks, his voice lilting nearly a full octave. Patrick holds up his hand, palm in front of his face. “I’ve got one too.” They’re wedding rings. He and Patrick are wearing wedding rings. OR: David and Patrick go to Vegas. You know what happens.

Crazy In Love [johnny/oc, NR, 1,493] by genewilderkinnie

Johnny's ex-boyfriend, who's a famous movie actor, comes to Schitt's Creek for a visit. Old feelings between the two emerge. Roger then does something for Johnny he should've done a long time ago.

favored nations [david/patrick, T, 31,113] by @blueink3

Ronnie is blinking at him like David just announced he wants to take tap lessons so he can headline a revival of 42nd Street. “Patrick Brewer,” she drawls, eyebrow raised in what might be respect. Incredulity, but respect. “David, when I said you needed a name to get your next project off the ground, I didn’t expect you to point to the cover of People Magazine and say, ‘ah yes, him.” “Excuse you, it was Vanity Fair.” Or, a music superstar and a disgraced theatre director try to find common ground in the state of Denmark.

Give Me Your Hand to Hold [david/patrick, G, 2,013] by @rosedavid

David and Patrick go to a local art walk in Elmdale, which leads to their first (and second and third) time holding hands.

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips [david/patrick, T, 7,393] by @samwhambam

Patrick asks David to go with him to visit his parents at their cabin for emotional support, as Patrick plans to come out to them on this vacation.

I'd Rather Be Sad With You (Than Anywhere Away From You) [david/patrick, T, 1,153] by @olrhys

“Hey. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” David shook his head. “No, I’m just not a great sleeper. What are you doing up?” Patrick shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Just thinking about some things.” David couldn’t help himself. “Regrets?” Patrick shot him a wry look, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Not the ones you’re thinking.” Or, in another take on the “night at Stevie’s”, Patrick is left with a sense of regret.

If i were you [david/patrick, G, 2,772] by @pine67

The spitting image of David shoves the covers off of himself and jumps out of bed, mirroring David’s stance and keeping the bed between them. “What are you? A burglar? A demon?” David gasps, fear overtaking him. “Are you my ghost? Have I died?”

It's Nice to Have a Friend [david/patrick, G, 1,695] by fairmanor

“So.” There’s a pause. Birds sing in the tree above the car. Ray shuffles where he sits, wincing when the car creaks lowly underneath him. “…So?” Sat on the hood with his feet planted and knees bent, Patrick shrugs. “I don’t know, really. I was kind of expecting you to have something to say.” “Like what?” “A question, maybe? Or ten?” “I think it sort of speaks for itself,” Ray says eventually. “It’s perfect.” David and Stevie weren't the first ones to sit in front of the cottage on the hood of a car.

More than a Bird [david/patrick, M, 17,391] by @asoftplacetoland

One look at the bleeding man in the very distinct and very familiar black and white spandex uniform lying prone on the rusty metal floor immediately banished all thoughts of sleep from Patrick’s mind. Patrick is a beat reporter who covers the good deeds of the local superhero, the Bolt. When the Bolt is injured one evening and in need of help, he goes to Patrick and they fall into a fast friendship. David, feeling isolated and alone from his time spent keeping the city safe from all sorts of threats, is struggling to keep his newly opened store afloat amid his busy crime fighting schedule. In which love proves to be faster than a speeding bullet.

putting roots in my dreamland [alexis/twyla, G, 4,078] by @lilythesilly

“Are roses your favorite flower?” Twyla asks, setting it down. “Mm, no, but they’re kind of my brand?” she says, picking it up to snap a picture on her phone. “And as cute as it would be to have a peony in my logo, my company isn’t named ‘Alexis Peony Communications.” “So, Alexis...Rose?” Twyla puts together, the name sounding vaguely familiar. Alexis nods, taking a photo at a different angle. “Well, I’m Twyla. It’s nice to meet you.” “Twyla,” Alexis says slowly. Twyla loves the sound of her name in Alexis’s voice. “Nice to meet you.” -- a twylexis flowershop au

Rim Around the Rose [david/patrick, E, 3,680] by @redwineandqueer

Then, David started talking about how good it felt and how much he loved it and, like with everything else David-related, Patrick couldn’t get it out of his head. So, when David had coaxed him onto his stomach and asked if he wanted to try, Patrick had been more than willing. And by the time David’s talented tongue was done taking him apart, Patrick had been fully converted. Then he’d tried it out on David. *** David gets insecure about something in bed. Patrick makes it better.

to the end of reckoning [patrick & ronnie, T, 1,308] by @dinnfameron

He should get David a coffee. He could deliver it to the motel, see how he’s doing. His arm is raised halfway to flag Twyla down when he catches himself. David doesn’t want to see him right now. He may never want to see Patrick ever again. The thought makes him sick. “Brewer.” Patrick turns at the sound of his name. There aren’t many people in this town who call him that, and sure enough, there’s Ronnie Lee at a table near the front. He’d missed her, somehow. “You look like shit,” she says.

What's New Pussycat [david/patrick, T, 4,136] by @agoodpersonrose

A curse has been laid on you that will remain, Thanks to mistreatment, cruelty and pain, And the symptoms will persist, Until you get your true loves kiss. OR, David has been turned into a cat AU, and he needs his true loves kiss to be turned back into a human.

2022

[Podfic] a very fortunate soul [david/patrick, M, podfic] by HowOldAreWe

Patrick wants to watch the Little Mermaid with David but says some mean things about Ursula. David’s not sure how to feel.

mess [david/patrick, G, 291] by @schittyfic

Several years into married life, Patrick encourages a budding passion of David's - with a healthy dose of teasing on the side. For the prompt: "I can't believe you talked me into this."

you hate the nights without me (baby, i hate ‘em too) [alexis/twyla, T, 557] by @sarahlevys singsongsung

Alexis: I wouldn’t call it an anniversary Alexis: maybe like a milestone? Twyla: What milestone is this? Alexis: like no pressure twy seriously but we’ve had sex 299 times Alexis: so if we have sex tonight that’s 300

your driver has arrived [david/patrick, T, 6,803] by @dinnfameron It’s been a shitty night, preceded by a long line of shitty nights, and all David wants is to go home, shower off the stench of desperate bar patrons, and wrap himself in sheets with an obscenely high thread count. Of course, there is still the ride back to his place. David can only hope his driver isn’t one of those friendly ones who tries to chat with you about how your night’s going or something. “So, how’s your night going?” his driver asks before David can even buckle his seatbelt. +++ Recovering from a bad breakup, David relocates to the town he technically owns, and every time he drowns his sorrows at the nearest bar, he somehow ends up with the same snippy rideshare driver.

2023

[podfic] scenes from a marriage [david/patrick, M, podfic] by @trueillusion82

Audio recording of blackandwhiteandrose's drabble collection, "Scenes from a Marriage"

Catch Me if You Can [david/patrick, T, 750] by @a-noble-dragon

Patrick's stuck in a tree... Oops!

Flower [david/patrick, G, 100] by @sspaz1000

It's time to plant the flower beds at the cottage. Will David find the perfect flower?

idiots offering olive branches [david/patrick, G, 826] by @aoubooming

A short introspective fic exploring Patrick's thoughts just before David comes back to the store set during Olive branch.

New Year's Realization [david/patrick, G, 814] by @wearpersistencewell

Upon waking up on New Year's Day, something occurs to David. He and Patrick work through it.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2024 2019: 7 fanworks (6 fics, 1 podfic)/66,137 words 2020: 8 fics/55,331 words 2021: 16 fanworks (15 fics, 1 podfic)/92,029 words 2022: 4 fanworks (3 fics, 1 podfic)/7,687 words 2023: 5 fanworks (4 fics, 1 podfic)/2,495 words Total: 40 fanworks (36 fics, 4 podfics)/223,679 words

[missfortunetherogue]

The Embrace of Love and Death

Welcome to the first chapter of my fanfic, “The Embrace of Love and Death”! When rogues Astarion and Miss Fortune (OC) get abducted from Baldur’s Gate and infected with mind flayer tadpoles, they both become “conveniently lost” from their troubled homes. As they grapple with their past traumas they find companionship, healing, and eventually love and renewed purpose in each other. Will getting a mind flayer parasite inserted into their eyes wind up being the best thing that ever happened to them? This slow burn tale of romance, sex, and healing will reveal the answer to that in due time.

Prefer to read on AO3? Gotchu covered right here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298#main

Chapter 1: Fresh off the Nautiloid

The sun was beginning to set on a day so bad that calling it a nightmare would be about as euphemistic as calling a raging owlbear a hungry house cat. One moment Miss Fortune had been trailing their mark through an alley in the slums of Baldur’s Gate, and the next they were abducted into a nautiloid, strapped in a mind flayer pod with a tadpole burrowing into their brain. They’d met that green woman, rescued a cleric named Shadowheart from her mind flayer pod, fought screeching imps, and then crashed the whole damned ship into who-knows-where. They had no idea how they survived the ordeal, but the screaming pain in their head didn’t give them much hope that their luck would last.

They’d never even been outside of Baldur’s Gate before, and now they were lost in the wilderness with two strangers. They’d lost sight of the green woman after the crash, found Shadowheart outside, and met a handsome, effeminate high elf with blindingly pale skin who’d tried to slit their throat on sight. The elf’s name was Astarion, and while they’d talked him down from violence and convinced him their odds of survival were better together, the half-elf rogue resolved to keep an eye on him. Not that they could fully blame him for the attempted murder; had the roles been reversed, they probably would have done the same. But still, they much preferred their blood inside their body.

Miss Fortune couldn’t for the life of them understand why their new companions were already looking to them like some kind of leader. While they were used to people gravitating to them in more mundane settings due to their good looks and charismatic persona, those skills hardly felt useful out here. What the hells did they know about anything real? They’d have to fake it, they realized.

“Sun’s going down, and this spot looks as safe as any to set up camp,” they said with feigned confidence. The companions nodded, set down their packs. Still they looked at Miss Fortune, waiting for instructions. “Err…do either of you know how to start a fire?”

“Gods, this is hopeless!” cried Shadowheart. “Have you never camped before?! No matter, I’ve done it plenty. Watch and learn, gentlemen, because I won’t be doing this by myself every night. I’m not your camp mother.”

Shadowheart walked the others through the process of setting up camp, showed them how to catch fish from the river and impale them on sticks to cook over the fire she started. Miss Fortune stumbled over their actions, and Astarion was even more helpless - but they managed, and they had places to sleep and food to eat by the time the sun winked out of the sky.

“So, Miss Fortune is an interesting name,” Shadowheart said cautiously between bites of fish and the other rations in their packs. “Did you come up with that on your own?”

“I did,” they replied. “I don’t like to take myself too seriously.”

Astarion snorted. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

“Why ‘Miss Fortune’ if you’re…well, you know,” Shadowheart pressed, gesturing to their masculine body.

The half-elf was about 185 centimeters tall and lanky to the point of looking underfed, but their lean frame had the buds of muscles beginning to form from the last couple moons they’d spent running with the city’s thieves guild. Their tan skin was sprinkled with freckles over the slight bent of their nose and high, prominent cheekbones. They had raven-black hair with violet highlights that was shaved at the sides while the long top was pulled into a tight bun at the back of their head. A purple-inked tattoo of three swallows swooped out of their hairline, fluttering across their left temple, and despite the harrowing day they’d had, the berry-colored lip stain and angled purple eyeshadow they donned each morning remained fairly well intact.

Miss Fortune worked hard to cut a visage that danced the line between masculine and feminine, though they often found themselves shackled with the ill-fitting label of ‘man’ by strangers who could only see the world in terms of this or that. All of which was more than the rogue was willing to explain to someone they’d just met.

“It suits me,” they said instead. “To my foes, an encounter with me spells their misfortune. And to my friends, well…I can only hope they feel fortunate to know me. And besides, everyone knows luck is a lady.”

“I can go with that,” Shadowheart agreed. “If not for you, I would have had the misfortune of staying stuck in that mind flayer pod. Though I hope you and our pale friend here will be able to hold your own out here. You both strike me as pampered city boys, judging by your lack of survival skills and soft hands.”

“I’m a city person, yes, but I would hardly consider myself pampered,” Miss Fortune replied. “Not everyone works with their hands, you know.”

“Yes, some of us work with our minds,” Astarion chimed in. “I’m a magistrate back in the city. All terribly boring work I assure you, though I can handle myself with a dagger.”

Having finished their fish and rations, Miss Fortune looked over at Astarion as he spoke and noticed him slowly pushing his food around the plate without eating.

“Food not up to your standards, your honor?” Miss Fortune jabbed. “I’ll take whatever you don’t want.”

“Oh, by all means enjoy,” Astarion said, handing the plate over. “This is hardly the fare I’m used to.”

“So, how about you, Shadowheart?” Miss Fortune changed the subject while shoveling Astarion’s food into their mouth. “You mentioned you’re a cleric - you from The Gate?”

“I am, and I’ll be headed back not a moment after we find a cure. I’ve something very important waiting for me back home.” Shadowheart’s facial expression darkened; Miss Fortune sensed it was a touchy subject and wondered if it had anything to do with that strange artifact she carried. She’d been dodgy when they asked her about it after they reunited on land.

“Impatient to get back to a lover, perhaps?” they jested.

“I don’t see how that’s your business, but no, and we’ll leave it at that” she replied.

“All right, all right, we girls all have our secrets,” they said, crossing their legs and miming tucking an invisible strand of hair behind their ear. “Anyway, thanks for showing us how to set up camp. I’ve got cleanup.”

The trio each went their separate ways after dinner; Shadowheart and Astarion heading to their respective tents, Miss Fortune down to the river bank with the dirty dishes and a rag. As the half-elf knelt by the river scrubbing away, their senses were assaulted by all the unusual sounds and smells surrounding them. They were used to the din of pedestrians day and night, the hawking of vendors and clopping of horse hooves on cobblestones. There were always sounds and scents in the city, and even when they were unpleasant their presence was oddly comforting. Out here in the dark with all these new sensations, they found themselves feeling utterly alone and insignificant.

Another familiar and unwelcome sensation began to coalesce at the edges of their consciousness, as if their head were filling up with a swarm of angry bees. It happened often enough that the half-elf knew they didn’t have long before their mind assaulted them and robbed them of rational thought. They quickly finished their cleanup duties and rushed back to camp, placing everything in a neat stack by their packs. By this point, Miss Fortune’s lips and the tip of their nose had started to tingle, their chest felt tight, and the buzzing feeling in their head had intensified to a dull roar.

This can’t be happening right now, they thought to themselves. Please, please not now. For a devout person this would have been the time to begin praying, but Miss Fortune knew it was pointless; no god had ever deigned to answer before.

Perceived danger lurked in every corner, every shadow of the camp. Frantic and woozy, the half-elf began to search for a place that would be out of both Astarion and Shadowheart’s line of sight. They ducked behind a large rock that seemed to fit the bill and let their trembling legs give out beneath them. Crumpled into a ball, their breath grew shallow and ragged as a world of nightmares clawed into their thoughts.

Everything is terrible. I’m going to die out here, Miss Fortune’s thoughts screamed at them. I can’t do this, I can’t survive whatever those monsters did to me on the ship. We’ll never find a cure. I’m going to turn into a grotesque mind flayer, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My life is over. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die! And I can’t do anything to stop it…I’m too weak…I’m going to die all alone. Utterly unloved. And nobody will miss me. Worst of all, I deserve this. I’ve never done anything worthwhile with this pathetic life of mine, not once in these miserable 28 years.

Tears rushed out and streamed down their face in an ugly, snotty mess as the panic fully gripped their mind. A gulping cry escaped their lips in defiance of their efforts to fall apart quietly, which only made them wish to hide somewhere further away from their new acquaintances.

“Is…something the matter?” they barely heard a cautious man’s voice call out. “Why, you’re positively shaking!”

Miss Fortune buried their face in their knees. “Please, don’t look at me,” they sobbed.

“I…should I leave?” Astarion asked.

“Go ahead. I’m…fine,” the half-elf lied.

“I’m not stupid, you are clearly not fine.”

“The Ma—my old boss always told me I’m just overly dramatic. I’m having a dramatic episode, as she used to call it.”

He’s going to hate you now too, the negative thoughts intruded. Not even a full day in and you’ve shown just how weak and pathetic you are.

Astarion stood there in dumbfounded silence as he watched Miss Fortune gulp for air, seemingly unsure whether to approach or wipe his hands of the whole situation and return to his tent.

“You should try this thing called breathing,” he called out eventually. “In, out…in, out…surely you know how it works.”

While the tone was condescending, it struck a cord. Miss Fortune focused on their breath between sobs, inhaling slowly through their nose and exhaling through their mouth. It took several long moments, but the angry bees began to fade and the maelstrom of negative thoughts receded along with them. Their chest still felt tight, their eyes ached, and as the last of the panic ebbed they were left with the usual crushing exhaustion; the usual collateral damage when they lost a war with their mind. Their body posture slackened as they heaved a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” they mumbled into their knees. “I’m not usually this weak, I swear. It’s just been a hell of a day.”

“…you should get some rest,” Astarion replied, his voice deadpan and unreadable. “I’m not feeling tired just yet, so I’ll keep watch over you and the camp.”

Miss Fortune rose unsteadily to their feet, lurching to the side as their knees threatened to buckle. They recalled the flash of steel against their throat hours earlier; were they less drained from their mind’s attack they would have laughed at the irony of his offer.

“Thank you, I’ll feel better knowing you’re watching over us,” they lied instead. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, Miss Fortune,” he replied coolly.

It was all the half-elf could do to keep from hurting themselves as they collapsed onto their bedroll. Despite their misgivings about Astarion, they were too tired to keep their eyes open. And if he slit their throat in the night, well, they probably deserved it anyway.

[squicky-fannish-discourse]

The Gauntlet!

In a world where BEGA wins, Beyblader Hiromi wants to create her own BBA. And she's dragging Kai along.

Author's note: I really want to post this on AO3, but I don't remember my password and it seems like most of the beyblading fans are on here?

But here's a Kaihil Au that I may or may not continue depending on how many ideas I get. I'll just update it in a different post or something.

Also, at this point, can be taken as platonic or romantic.

They are childhood friends in this AU

oh and also @citruscloudsandmoon who eggs me on hahah

Chapter 2 >>>

Main directory

.

Hiromi opens her eyes to the mid-afternoon blue skies. 

It’s been almost a year, and this is a BEGA hell-infested town, which is the home of the former G-Revs, now just nothing. She stares up at the birds which fly over.  

In any world where she beyblades, Hiromi thinks. She’s always been more interested in the ins and outs of beyblading rather than the glory and fame. So it makes sense that she gravitated towards street blading and their community of building hack builds and doing funny sciencey things with beyblading and street gangs. 

Streetblading will never die. Ever. They will always go underground, or so Maiko-nee tells her. Even when the whole world commercializes beyblading. 

Hiromi looks around at Hiwatari Kai. He stares at her.

”Why are you sleeping on the grass?” 

“Why are you watching me sleep like a big creep?” 

“Did you know,” he said slowly. “Some strange guy could be hiding in the bush watching you?” 

“You mean you?” she asked with a laugh as she held out a hand so he could pull her up, but he doesn’t take it, so she huffs at him. So she pulls herself up grumbling— “Oof! You don’t know how to treat a lady! You’re a big creep!” 

He’s her childhood friend. 

And the Bladebreakers are nothing but a scrambled bunch of kids who used to beyblade. Kinomiya’s in her class. She knows Max’s father owns a beyblade store, but his son doesn’t blade anymore. His friend, Rei has gone back to China. 

And Kai? Kai is focusing on highschool. She’s the only one she knows since they were childhood friends, and she came back from London. Crabbier than she remembered as a child, but when he’s immature, you can see child Kai.

Like now.

He smirked at her. 

Her Grandpa loves Kai for no good reason—coz he’s got a good business sense, and he’s old and likes the company news. And Kai’s had—for lack of better word—a no good grandfather at home, who his mom is taking care of. And he just doesn’t like going home either lately. 

So while her Grandfather is crabby, and complains. At least he has a civil sense of responsibility, Hiromi supposes. He did often look after Kai with them as a child, and was horrified to learn about the abbey. 

But her Grandpa associates beyblading with insanity anyway. 

Kai doesn’t blame Voltaire for the fall of BBA. But he doesn’t like being home. Or anywhere right now. Everything is suffocating, and they took the one thing he’s been ambivalent in his life about—beyblading. And now he’s just frustrated. So he probably did like it after all. At least that’s what Hiromi understands about him.  

And in return—on days like this—he shows up, and vents frustration in a match at her. 

“Let’s go.” 

“I wanted to visit Tsurugi and Maiko-san today,” Hiromi said. “I have been thinking of something crazy lately.” 

“Whatever. Give me a match, and then you can go off on your own merry way.” 

Hiromi wants to street blade, and she uses him as an excuse. Like oh, I’m with Kai. 

She’s not with Kai. 

And her Grandfather’s just fine with that. 

“I’m planning on dragging you though,” she said. 

“What is it?” he asked her in annoyance. 

“Just come along!” 

So instead of them going to the bey-dish which they usually go to, she just grabbed him by his arm, and he nearly tripped over a rock.

”I can walk myself,” he called out. 

“I don’t know if you’ll run away though!! You're not trustworthy at all! Like the neighborhood cat,” she said.

”Maybe it knows you’re pushy as hell,” he calls out, annoyed, but she’s basically dragging him.

“C’mon!!! I just want to show you something.”

Has he been working out? Hiromi wonders off handedly. 

✧.*

Hiromi thinks that this place—-which isn’t much at all like the bigger street blading communities—but it’s kind of homey anyway, located in the middle of a bit of an empty industrial abandoned area near the coast. It smells of fish and rust and sometimes funny. There’s parts you can’t enter.  

The city knows that they frequent this place, and they allowed them to build this indoor ramp in the warehouse. And they cordoned off other bits. 

The older college kids—and now highschool kids who come here to beyblade as part of “Bakuten’s Street blading Resistance” or BSR for short—come here. It’s very tongue in cheek. 

Trade parts. Yammer about beyblading. Host mini-competitions. Because they’ll never switch to BEGA. 

Street blading will never die.  Ever. Hiromi thinks with a happy smile. After all, where else does she go to mess around and debate physics with? It’s her best subject because of street blading. 

They built a half-pipe skateboarding ramp right smack in the middle of the warehouse. 

”Hibiki!” Tsurugi called. “What are you doing?” 

“Trying to test out this beyblade,” he said. He was releasing a wonky beyblade. 

”Can you help me fix up these lights? Someone?!” he called out. No one’s listening. “Oi—“ He called out to Kai. “Think you could hand me one of those bulbs?” 

Kai wordlessly helps him as he reaches into a messy pile of tools and things over to hand over the bulbs.

The warehouse lights up.

”Finally!” 

“Wow, it kind of looks cinematic,” Hiromi says, as she steps atop the ramp. “Like I’m a model in a runway!” 

“Ooo!” Maiko said. “This could be funny if we used it as a concert venue too.” 

“Can we stick to beyblading alone?!” 

“I’ll bring my band.” 

“And now it’s the best place in the city,” Hiromi announced. “We have lights—ramps, everything. Our tournie is going to be a blast.” 

Kai stares at her in slow confusion.

”What?” 

“We’re hosting a tournament,” she said happily. “The biggest tournament that ever tournamented!” 

“It’s not even that big,” Tsurugi siad. “But Hiromi’s been pretty awfully excited about it.” 

“I’m going to call it gauntlet, and we’ll be so popular, we’ll overtake BEGA’s popularity.” 

She spread out her arms. 

He stares at her.

”Well,” Tsurugi said with a laugh. “It was Hiromi-chan’s idea, and she’s been trying to source everything. I’m Tsurugi by the way—the oldest one in this group. Don’t ask my age. I’ll feel old.” 

“He knows Hitoshi!” Hiromi said as she got off the ramp. 

“Maiko-chan!” the girl called out. “I’m the same age as Hitoshi. Myself and HIbiki went to highschool together with him. He's kinda of a butt. We’re supposedly going to college together. But he quit for what’s it—Bitbeast archaeology?” 

“Where is Hitoshi anyway?” the one called Hibiki asked.

“Heck if I know.” Tsurugi asked with a laugh. “That brat doesn’t even call me.” 

"He's vague as hell, about what he's doing."

He’s… older than Takao’s brother. 

“Is that Kai Hiwatari?” one of the highschool kids called out. They don’t go to Hiromi’s highschool—but they are in the area. 

Kai stiffened up awkwardly, unsure of how to respond as the others were looking at him.

”He’s joining us!” Hiromi announced. “He’s like m’childhood friend.” 

”What?”

”Your’re joining our tournie?” 

”The prize is like—one pack of gum,” another girl announced. “S’all I got.” 

He just awkwardly shrugs. They all shrug. 

“Hiromi!” one of the boys yells. “Give me a match for last time!” 

“Okay!” she calls out with a laugh. “Wanna go right now? We’re up first!” She climbs the staircase to the top. “Whooo! It’s wobbly!” 

“It ain’t known for it’s safety,” Hibiki called out. “Don’t fall or die.” 

“Hibiki, your dad’s a carpenter, right? Can’t you get him to come and inspect this?” 

“Yeah, I could, but he’s so done with me beyblading when I should be looking for a job.” 

She angles Suzumebachi over the skateboard ramp, while he glares at her and he launches his own bey, and Suzumebachi speeds up through the platform, downhill, knocking him out flat to the left. 

“Hahaha! Having no sides to this ‘beydish’ is actually kind of fun.” 

“Increases the pace of the battle though,” Tsurugi said. “On either side. You either increase in velocity.” 

“Or get punted out ahhahaha!” 

“Helps the folks here who aren’t Hiromi,” Maiko said with a laugh. “She knocks you out in three seconds flat with her speed build.”  

Kai thinks that they are relatively nice though. 

He looked around at the warehouse. The skateramps are built of steel.

”This thing will fall apart in a bad-beybattle,” he said slowly, expecting someone to get mad. 

They looked contemplative. 

”You think so?” one of the other kids asked. He noticed that none of them were very hostile or weird towards him. “Think it’s good for a start.” 

“Why didn’t we stick to a traditional bowl?” he asked. 

“Hiromi-chan suggested a skate rink instead of a beydish. Less traditional and more control needed.” 

“Maybe we should invest in bamboo.” 

“And have it catch fire?” 

“If the city gave us a permit,” Maiko said. “We should just built several rinks or something—into the ground.” 

“I still think we should solder toy train tracks onto it,” Hiromi said. “And someone controls it at the side!” 

”Hiromi-chan sure comes up with the most ambitious ideas.” 

“But they are quite fun though!” 

"Hear me out thoughhh! If we remote controll it! Rig it to a beat or something!"

✧.*

The chewing gum pack was a prize you got in the mini “Street tournie.” 

Hiromi glared at Kai.

He blew a bubble slowly.

It popped in her face.

Hiromi opened her mouth in annoyance. 

He chewed again with a grin. 

”Hey!!” she yelled as he laughed. The match came down to the two of them, because he managed to really blow off steam, because she's really annoying to beat. “Heyyyy!”

He won. 

“Maybe,” he said. “I can acquire the warehouse,” he said. 

“That’s a lot of money.”

”Wow,” he said sardonically. “Sure pays to be rich. Did you want gum?"

"I don't want the cavities."

“Let’s go home,” he said. 

“Your home?” 

“No. I’m dropping you off, and then I’m going back home.” 

“You could just hang out with us,” she said as she caught up to him, because he walks fast. “Grandpa loves you honestly. He’s better than your weird Grandpa.  Better yet, just live with us. But wait, then what would I use as an alibi? Also what if you just steal my beyblade parts.” 

“It’s astonishing the amount of beyblade parts you’ve managed to hoard. What the… hell are you doing?” 

She grinned impishly. He wants to flick her nose or something.

“Not telling youuu.” 

✧.*

Later that night—at Hiromi’s place, hearing the sounds of Grandpa and her Father talking downstairs, and Hiromi talking to one of her British street blading friends beside her about ‘The tourney is an absolute success! Lou!” He closes his eyes.

”Hiromi!” Grandpa yelled. “Go to sleep!” 

And their family cat, Mochi enters through the door, and climbs atop the bed. 

Unsurprisingly, of the four of them, Kai’s more at ease right now. He has the Tachibana family to thank to just… anchor him back down. Hiromi’s the type of person who’s comforting to be around with, and she just has that excitement which he finds infectious sometimes. 

Suddenly the door opens. He opens his eyes to see her peeking in. Hiromi blinks. He stares her down. 

“What?” 

She propped her hands on the bed. 

“Kai!” 

“What?” 

She grins brightly.

“So, will you tell your team to join the street tournie?” 

He stares at her. Then he reaches over to her face.

And he flicks her nose. 

“Ow! Hey!! Why are you hurting m’nose for?” she whines. 

“Kinomiya’s in your class. Just go ask him.” 

“He’s kinda closed off though,” Hiromi said as she crouched, and she peeked at him. “Maybe it’ll come out better from you. Like hey—my childhood friend, Hiromi. She’s so amazing and even better than me at beyblading.” He scoffed. “I am though! I did win like 4 out of 5 matches.” 

“2 out of five!” 

“Mochi disagrees. He believes Hiromi wins all the time.” 

“Right."  

“And she’d like to take us street blading. It ain’t BBA, but it’s something. We’re callin’ it the gauntlet! All Hiromi’s idea. Then mebbe I could meet Rei for real?” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“He’s not to come all the way from China just for a street beyblading match.” 

She pouted, as she rested her chin on his bed edge.

“Buuuuut, what if we go worldwide.” 

“Oh okay,” he said. “You do that then I call Rei.” 

She flapped her arms happily. 

“We’ll be so amazing. Oooh! I have more ideas. We’ll be called the Gauntlet. The more challenging BEGA, Mochi!” Mochi flicked his tail lazily as he stared at her. “With extreme bey-dishes, I can see the VISION!” 

He wants to say something sarcastic, but in all honesty, Kai doesn’t think it’s a bad idea. Because she and streetbladers world wide are resisting BEGA by making their own parts and building their own extreme ramps or bey-dishes. 

They could very well create something like this—including himself. 

He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want to talk to Kinomiya.” 

“Huh?!” 

“I think you should go talk to him.” 

 “He’s nice to his fangirls, so I could probably approach him like that.” 

“Approach him like a normal person. What’s the worst he’s going to say? No? Or maybe you should talk to Max first.” 

Hiromi’s eyes lit up at him like a million stars.

✧.*

Chapter 2 >>>

Main directory

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday Lovely fandom. Not a ton in these episodes for them. Gonna combine these two. Thank you for idea D ❤️ These are my least fav of the season. Not gonna lie whenever I reach the Simone eps in a rewatch I skip around her stuff LOL Never resonated with me. So it’s funny the first ep is called Simone and I won’t really be covering her much at all. Probably be a shorter one with some crumbs. Let’s get going though shall we?

4x19 Simone/4x20 Enervo

We start off with an actual bang. John and Lucy respond to a suspicious activity call. It's near a power station in Griffith Park. They find a bomb and get out just in time but not before they’re thrown to the ground by the blast. They get thrown pretty damn far and are fairly banged up. It's insane how much damage they took even clearing the building.

Tim shows up to the scene and does a worried husband look I love. Checking in on her by doing a once over once he makes it to them. Does a silent check in as he reports it’ll take 12 hours to fix the damaged power station. The silent check in is everything. Once again it’s the little things I cherish especially in low content episodes. It's subtle but noticeable once you know it's there. Trying to contain his concern with her all banged up. It’s ok love your wifey is fine hehe

I love these two shots for quite a few reasons. One you know I love the tall/smol shots. I wish I could put into words why I love it so very much. It’s just aesthetically pleasing is one of the reasons I suppose. All I know is I’m a sucker for it. Second how in-sync they are in their movements and how they mirror one another in the second one.

Third the lack of personal space. Especially in that first gif. Theme of this season I adore so much. Always that gravitational pull of theirs. Lastly look at them. They’re gorgeous just standing next to one another. Also it is unfair Lucy is covered in dirt and soot and looks amazing still. Not fair haha

Oh right there’s a SL too LOL Not me just gawking at them haha The feds show up because this is a terrorist attack. They ask Nolan and Lucy about what they remember about the bomb. Nolan of course is no help. Smh Lucy is able to describe little better for them. FBI says they’re taking over from here. Grey fights it since John and Lucy were almost killed discovering the bomb. Garza concedes and they’re able to work together on this one.

We rejoin our ship headed towards National Guard Armory. They’ve deduced this guys real target was this. Reason he shut down the power was to gain access inside there. They’re en-route to catch him. They find out he’s already on the move and they’ve gotta catch him. Which leads us to this car chase. First off let’s note Lucy getting to drive in this intense moment. It is more common these days for them. I just love seeing Tim trust her so implicitly nowadays. That this is new normal for them. *heart clutch*

Control freak in him has eased up quite a bit with her at least. Maybe not with anyone else LOL Once again it's the little things to love. The spurts of growth. They make me happy. Anyways dude stole a friggin Humvee so taking him down will not be easy. Nolan says they need to stop this guy. No shit John...What do you think the purpose of this chase is? To have fun at a high speeds in a shop for kicks?

Sometimes the words out of his mouth floor me..and not in a good way. Tim is using his military experience in this moment. (Yum) Explains why that’s not going to be easy. He’s basically encased himself in a mini tank. Their usual pit maneuver isn’t going to work on this guy. Nolan offering up another solution. I adore the silent communication and the look. That automatic instinct to check in with each other. I'll never be over it. I love watching them in the field so very much. Just a well oiled machine. Tim is considering Nolan’s suggestion then checking in with wifey before executing it. Love it.

Tim explains their plan to Nolan while Lucy listens in. Tim advices they both hit the doors. Tells them it has to be at the same time though. To avoid the wheels at all costs. Lucy needing to know the why of course. Asks why they can’t hit the tires? Tim explains they’ll die and be a cautionary tale for future rookies LOL Gotta love Lucy questioning why they can't in the middle of a high speed chase. I'm sure she wasn't expecting that to be his answer ha.

Her comment about her mom cracks me up. Anything to prove to her mother she’s wrong and she is right about being a cop. Her first thought not being she’ll die. No it’ll be about her mother being right about her career choice. Lmao Oh Lucy Chen I love you. Also I relate to this train of thought all too well sadly. I do love her saying they’ll be disgraced together. Be more married please.

Tim doesn’t even fight her on this thought. Lucy basically saying if I’m going down you’re coming with. Tim isn’t fighting her at all. His silence is saying lead the way. They’re in this together and I love that so very much. Being a literal ride or die right now in this moment.

I love me some crumbs in a low content ep. Also only they could banter during a high pressure situation and still get the job done. I love them so much. They are successful but find out the driver isn’t their guy but a decoy. Wah Wah.

They regroup at the station after their chase. Nolan asking Lucy if she got any sleep? She then calls out Tim for getting some. Not only does she call him out but nicknames him 'Sleeping beauty.' Looking directly at him the entire time. Making sure he know she is talking about him and only him. All aboard the flirt train Nolan is an unwilling participant in the matter haha

Such blatant flirty flirts. Tim fires back a sassy reply to her jab. Just openly flirting and doing heart eyes out in the open. Ain’t no thang this season lol Shoots back not to be jealous he was allowed to sleep and she hasn’t. Lucy’s reaction is the best. That fond exasperation they’ve had all season long. So used to her husband antics at this point but has to let him know she’s annoyed at him. Damnit I love them sfm.

They end up finding his base of operations. Lucy of course breaking the case. Cause she’s brilliant finds a word he’s written down by doing an etching off a wall he used. ‘Enervo’ Garza telling them it means 'To deprive of power.' John asks Tim what the military’s first target is? I love watching Tim flex his military background again. It’s sexy af. Seriously gets me hot and bothered *fans self* Tim and Lucy cracking this case right open. You’re welcome everyone haha That’s it for this one. Low content one since it was meant to launch rookie feds. Next one has even less so this is why we’re combining them.

~~~

Side notes-Non Chenford

I do love when Nyla and Angela work together. Two bad ass woman just doing their jobs like confident BAMFS.

4x20 Enervo.

We find out he’s rented U-Haul’s and it’s going to take out the biggest roads with them. Crippling the city and killing thousands. They can't get a warrant right away to track them so everyone is in on the hunt. As always I love watching them in action in the field. That second gif their cop eyes have been activated. You can see them combing the street together. They’re so in-sync as they search the streets for one of the five U-Haul’s. I could go on and on about how much I love their work dynamic I really could. But I'll stop there ha

The trucks are divided up into states. Cause well that’s U-haul haha if you’ve ever driven one you’d know. Always got graphics or other states on them. One has already exploded unfortunately so they're down to 4 trucks that need to be found. Lucy and Tim spot ‘Florida’ and are in pursuit of it. I love how calm they look. They’re chasing down a bomb and look determined af. Like I said before well oiled machine. The gifs above represent that. They are poetry in motion in the field. What made 5x22 battle scene so epic. Was that on steroids ha

That’s kinda it for them in this one. I can add this last lovely gif of them in the field. Seeing how they move in motion together. It is impressive to see how in-sync they always are. Shared brain thing I love so much. I’m sorry there isn’t more. I mean it’s not my fault but I’m still sorry LOL

We shouldn’t hit this again. Even the light one in S5 is really good and would fill a review well so this will be the last scant ep for them. Probably won’t combine them again ha

~~~

Side notes-non chenford

Smitty reporting in he got ‘Utah’ Grey being ecstatic and saying he took back every negative thing ever said about him. Poor Smitty is all sad ‘You’ve said negative things about me?’ LMAO

Thank you as always for those who like, comment and reblog these reviews. You’re all amazing and I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. Shall see you all in 4x21 :)

[celestie0]

Best way to start off 2025 is with a new chapter of IHM 🥹 I hope you’re feeling much better btw! Food poisoning is a bitch to deal with so I hope the recovery is going well 🥹

I DID NOT except THAT being the Gojo family lore drop holy shit. There’s so much to unpack that even the Gojo’s haven’t started on and it breaks my heart seeing how they tip toe around the topic. The vibes I got are: plaster that smile on your face and keep the convos cute which… yeah it be like that for a lot of us 😭

Sana get behind me, PLEASE. I love that reader was her anchor throughout the evening keeping her sane. It’s miserable feeling like you’re the only person in your own corner so I can’t imagine what she’s been feeling like every gathering before now. I’m hoping that reader and Sana develop a good friendship because I think the two of them could really be good for each other and I love women supporting women 🥰 and Sana needs someone in her corner if reader’s intuition is correct (and we know it is 😭).

Gojo has been so reserved this chapter, which is fine considering this is probably the most vulnerable place location wise he has been so far. He’s always been very calm and collected but after this dinner, it definitely makes sense why he’s like that. He reminds me of how I handle things (as the oldest sibling, I’m usually the one that has to have their shit together and keep the peace) so I got those vibes from him (I could also just be projecting lmao). Instead of talking about it, he seems to avoid it altogether. We still don’t have the whole story so I’m making some assumptions about his person as a whole, but it’s been so interesting to see this family dynamic in action.

Reader, hang in there 😭 I remember slipping once and saying something extremely raunchy in front of my in laws and I wanted to bury myself… but it’ll pass and become a cute little anecdote for dinner in the future. It’s also cute seeing her thought process when she’s questioning why she cares about how Gojo perceives her appearance and who the girl he took to homecoming was (that side bangs image is bringing ME back to my school years 😭). It’s little things like these that build up their relationship that make me feel all warm and fuzzy. The small physical things like their bodies gravitating towards each other at dinner (her knee touching his thigh, almost leaning on his shoulder), Gojo placing his hand on her back, etc is absolute PEAK 😩 you apologized for the lack of romance but I’m HERE for the small things.

I’m probably forgetting a couple things but I fear this ask is getting too long and I don’t wanna overwhelm you 😭 I wanna say, I appreciate every word you put out for us and I’ll continue to do so for as long as you’re willing to share with us! Your talent for writing immersive and realistic scenes keeps me afloat and I’m thankful I get to read it. I hope 2025 treats you incredibly well and I cannot wait to see how the rest of this story plays out 🥰

Have a great week and I hope you feel better soon ❤️

HIII makimais dear i’m so sorry for the late response on this :”) but thansk you SO much for the insight ask aaa i look forward to your ihm reviews so much <33

awh in happy you enjoyed the budding friendship btwn sana and reader <3 reader keeps saying she doesnt want to get too involved in the whole marriage yet she’s privy to sana’s feelings! i loved the idea of having that sort of “perfect family” resolve crumble slowly throughout the chap so it was a lot of fun to write :)

oh no you’re absolutely collect, that’s what i was going for w the whole older sibling thing! im a youngest myself but a couple of my close friends are eldest siblings and they have often shared w me the obstacles that comes with…especially when you’ve had to kinda step up into that parental role! he was absolutely reserved in that chapter n for a reason

yippeee im glad you’re enjoying the small lil romances btwn them <3 i LOOOVEEE when characters just gradually get closer together n before they realize it theyre in love 😩😩 that’s that good shit right there

you’re so sweet bb n omg never hesitate to send me stuff i love hearing your insights :””) have a lovely day my dear!

[readingandwritingandreading]

Some Hearts ~ Part 5

My Blurb: I have returned! I am feeling much better and to make it up to you this one is the longest chapter I have ever written. I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer:  Alas, I own nothing but my ideas. I do not give permission for my writing to be shared anywhere without my consent. 

Summary: Reacher never needed anyone, he was a lone wolf and preferred it that way. But when he finds his mate beaten and bruised one night, she and the rest of the 110th show Reacher the benefits of being in a pack. Fated Mates, Shifter AU

Pairing: Jack Reacher x OFC Morgan Stone

Warnings: There are some darker things in this fic. Morgan is a rape and abuse survivor. Nothing is explicitly detailed but be advised. Your media consumption is your responsibility. This is a fated mates, wolf shifter AU and will contain claming, biting, mating and other wolf pack related things. 

Tagging: @pioched | @ashes-writing | @titty-teetee2 | @may85 | @msripleybennet | @lemmons1998 | @tonadavis264-blog | @screechingdreamercollectorsblog

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Rock Hill Village, New York

The next few days followed the same pattern. Jack was already up and working on projects by the time I made my way down stairs. He joined me in the kitchen while I made breakfast and we talked while we ate. We cleaned up, drove into the village and usually ended the day at the pack house before returning home. It was…comfortable and safe. 

The third day I convinced him that I was feeling good enough to walk into town instead of him driving. That’s how I found myself staring at the covered windows of the building that sat between the school and road to Jack’s cabin. Dixon had come out of her cabin to discuss training some of the younger members when she saw us walking by and I gravitated towards the building. 

“It’s technically the pack library.” Lily O’Donnell’s voice sounded from my left and I jumped, hand immediately going to my chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Oh, it’s ok. I was a little lost in my snooping.” I smiled and waved at Jack who had turned immediately at my sudden fear. “Why do you say technically?” I turned my attention back to Lilly who sent Jack a wave also.

“David & I inherited it when we started the school but between that and the kids we don’t have time to maintain or organize it and no one else in the pack has taken it on yet.” She shrugged. “Maybe someday.” Jack approached then, his hand finding the small of my back, sending the familiar wave of warmth through me.

“Reacher” she nodded to him. “Dixon recruiting you for training today?” 

He nodded, “Bobby’s mate went into labor this morning.” 

“I didn’t think she was going to make it much longer.” Lilly grinned. “I better get going. It was good to see you, Morgan.” 

“You as well.” I waved before turning to Jack, a question that had been bothering me bubbling to the surface. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Always.” he answered without hesitation, surveying the village square as we walked.

“I don’t want to overstep. I just…” I bit my lip, memories of my curiosity getting me in trouble when I was younger flooding through me. 

“Morgan,” he stopped, turning me to face him. “You can ask me anything and I will always answer you honestly.”

“Do you have a specific job? I noticed almost everyone else does.” I blurted out before I lost my nerve. 

“This is the longest I've ever stayed on the pack lands since I left the military.” He pulled me to a bench by the statue of the Moon Goddess. "After we left the military, most of the 110th came here and started the pack but I couldn’t help but wander after a lifetime of being an army brat. I was thirty-six years old, a citizen of a country I had barely seen, and there were places to go, and there were things to do. There were cities, and there was countryside. There were mountains, and there were valleys. There were rivers. There were museums, and music, and motels, and clubs, and diners, and bars, and buses. There were battlefields and birthplaces, and legends, and roads. There was company if I wanted it, and there was solitude if I didn’t. Then three weeks ago I found myself getting off the bus on the highway five miles from here. Neagley runs a tight ship, everyone earns their place so I stepped in whenever they needed someone. Sometimes training, mostly security. I was on duty two weeks later when you set off one of the south sensors.”

I stared at him in shock as his words sunk in. The comments about his cabin, the lack of personal items and other little moments all came crashing together. “You’re not going to stay?” The words came out as a coldness wrapped its way around my heart and I became aware of how attached I had already become to the friendly little village. 

“I told you I would be honest,” he heaved out a sigh, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know, I never planned on finding you. I couldn’t imagine I had a fated mate out there. It was a fairytale that some of my friends had but wasn’t in the cards for me. I’m still getting my head around the fact that you are here.” I forced the threatening tears down when he gently used my chin to force me to look at him. “I won’t make a decision without you. We’re a team now.” 

I searched his face before nodding, bolstered by the sincerity in his words and gaze. “It’s nice to be a teammate and not just a pawn for once. Thank you Jack.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek, smiling inwardly at the hint of shock in his expression when I pulled away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A lingering warmth remained in the spot Morgan’s lips had touched him, even a couple hours after it happened and he sparred with the trainees. Dixon was a good trainer and all of her students excelled in learning how to use their wolves in a fight should the need arise. The focus today, however, was fighting without their wolf, something that Morgan seemed to be watching closely. Reacher had offered to take her somewhere she would be comfortable while he helped Dixon but after their talk she seemed to need the closeness, assuring him she wanted to watch.  

He could see her on the other side of the training area, watching Dixon show another smaller female how to use her speed against a bigger opponent. He walked over to her as the class wound down, an idea forming in his head. She had no power in her old life. He had seen the way it soothed her that he considered her his equal. Roscoe had no leads on why she couldn't shift and without her wolf she was at huge disadvantage against other shifters.

“Do you want to learn?” Reacher asked, stretching his hand towards her. She hesitated for a minute before determination crossed over her face and she nodded, grabbing his hand and letting him lead her away from the other students. “You heard Dixon telling them about speed?”

She nodded, stiffening slightly as he positioned her body. “Make yourself a smaller target and you're harder to hit.”

“And there’s no shame in running if you can.” he added, circling around to face her. “I’m going to try and grab you, try and avoid me.” Morgan nodded, taking a deep breath and watching him carefully. He waited a few seconds before pouncing towards her, catching her easily when she darted to the right. “You gave yourself away. You turned right and then hesitated. Once you make a decision, act, don’t hesitate.” 

They practiced for another couple hours before he noticed her wincing and rubbing at the cast on her arm. He was impressed with her determination. She was a quick learner and had mostly overcome the hesitation that gave her away managing to avoid him two times. “We better call it for today. Roscoe will have my hide if you hurt your arm more.” 

Morgan chuckled before sinking to the grass. “Thank you for teaching me. My father never would have allowed me to learn with my…handicap. He just surrounded me with bodyguards or kept me locked away in the house.”

“Everyone should know how to defend themselves. I will protect you until my last breath, but you need to know how to at least get away if someone attacks you.” Reacher sat down on the grass beside her looking towards the river that she had fallen into. 

She looked in that direction as well and smiled when she saw two wolves splashing out of the water, an black and tan one chasing a smaller brown one. The smaller one nipped playfully at the bigger one's snout before turning and running into the tree line at top speed. The bigger one howled and then followed. “Who was that?” Morgan laughed, following their path as they disappeared. 

“Sanchez & Melina. Their bonding ceremony is next week.” Reacher replied. 

“Can I see your wolf?” Reacher looked over to find Morgan staring at him apprehensively. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I held my breath as Jack studied my face and then nodded slightly. His shift was smooth and well practiced. One second I was sitting next to a large man and the next I was sitting next to a large wolf. I reached out and ran my hand through the blue gray fur of his chest. In human form Jack towered over me and his wolf did as well. In our sitting positions my head came to his shoulder. Standing I let my hand drift to the fur around his ears pulling back when he nuzzled my hand with his snout. “I’m sorry, I guess I should have asked before just petting you.” 

Wolf Jack moved into a standing position and made a growling sound before nudging my hand again until it rested on top of his head. When I scratched his tail began to wag and I giggled. “I feel like I’ve seen this wolf before.” Wolf Jack cocked his head as I thought, moving to stroke his neck and back. 

“Is Reacher wagging his tail?” An astonished shout came from several feet away and I squeaked in surprise when I found myself firmly behind Jack as he growled in the direction of the voice. Oscar Finlay appeared a moment later. “Down boy, I was just coming to let you know food’s almost ready at the pack house.” 

Jack suddenly shifted, as fluidly as before, blocking my view of Finlay. Peeking my head around him I waved. “What’s happening at the pack house?”

“Our monthly pack meeting, everyone eats there and we go over anything we need to.” Finlay filled in. “And we are definitely going to need to go over Reacher’s tail wagging.” He chuckled when Jack shot him a glare. 

I patted Jack’s arm before sliding it down to intertwine my hand with his. “Am I allowed to go? I’ve never gotten to be involved in pack activities.” 

I asked the question to Finlay but Reacher squeezed my hand and responded. “If you want to go, you can.” 

Finlay nodded, grinning at our intertwined hands. “I’ll see you there.”

Jack led us into the pack house half an hour later, winding us through the crowd and to a couple empty chairs at one of the trestle tables that had been setup in rows throughout the room. “Stay here, I'll grab some food.”

Charlie quickly joined me, dropping into an empty chair and greeting me with a hug. “Paul will be here in a minute, he’s dropping the girls off upstairs. They always have a movie set up for the kids up there while the adults handle business. I heard you did some training with Reacher today. You didn’t hurt your arm did you?” 

“He’s trying to teach me to be able to escape. I only managed to out maneuver him twice in three hours of practice. He made us stop when my arm started aching.” I smiled. 

“Twice is pretty good. Reacher is exceptionally trained, maybe more so than Alpha Neagley. Plus you’re his mate. He’s naturally more attuned to you.” she shrugged. 

I nodded, “I hadn’t thought of that.” 

Paul joined us then, placing their plates on the table.  “I couldn’t tell if Reacher was getting plates for both of you or just him, but I’m glad to be in front of him in line. I don’t know how he stays in that kind of shape but eats like that.”

“Genetics.” Jack’s voice sounded from behind me before four towering plates of food appeared in front of our seats. He placed an empty one in front of me before continuing. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want so take the first pick and I can eat whatever’s left.”

Neagley appeared at the front of the room where a podium was set up. The crowd quieted immediately, everyone found their seats and I watched in amazement at the respect the pack had for their leader. Reacher nudged me as it continued, pointedly looking at the pile of food in front of us. Rolling my eyes I grabbed some chicken and a few other items before picking up my fork and digging in. 

Near the end of the meeting Neagley announced Sanchez and Melina’s ceremony and the room came alive with applause and whistles while Sanchez pumped his arm in the air and Melina blushed at his side.

Turning to Charlie I got her attention before asking, “If I order a dress for the ceremony would it get here in time? I just realized I don’t have anything and I hate to keep hogging your wardrobe.” 

“We’re going into Utica in a couple days, why don’t you come with us?” Charlie offered. “I have to pick up our medicine shipment. Angela, Franz’s mate, is also coming. She has to pick up some supplies for the inn.” 

“That would be great.” I turned to Jack who was putting the last piece of chicken from my plate in his mouth. “What do you think?”

“You do need some more clothes and a coat,” he shrugged. 

“It’s settled then!” Charlie waved down Dixon who joined them. “Morgan is going to join us on our trip to Utica. She needs some more clothes.” 

“I hope that’s ok.” I offered. “I’m living out of Charlie’s wardrobe at the moment.” 

“Not a problem at all little wolf, it will be a girls trip.” Neagley planted herself on the table beside Dixon. 

“Wait, girls trip. I’m going with Morgan.” Jack looked between the women.

“I don’t think so big guy, I need you to take over training for Dixon while we’re gone.” Neagley put her hand up when he went to argue.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Reacher’s Cabin, Rock Hill Village, New York

Neagley gave him a look he knew from their time in the service. One that said she wasn’t discussing the topic anymore, he was not going on this trip. “She will be with Dixon and me the whole time. You know she’s safe with us. We have Charlie if her arm acts up.”

“Nothing can happen to her, Neagley.” It was more of a plea than an agreement but she still nodded. They turned as Morgan came down the steps to meet them at the SUV. “Stay with Dixon or Neagley,” he reached into his pocket and handed her his card. “Get whatever clothes or other stuff you need. And a coat, it’s going to get colder.” 

Morgan put her hand up to stop him, “I have enough of my own to get a dress and a couple things I need. I’m not spending any more of your money.”

Before he could reply Neagley stepped in and swiped the card from his hand. “I have no problem spending more of your money. Thanks for lunch. Come on little wolf.” 

Jack gently grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Morgan, get what you need. He kissed her forehead before adding, “Stay with the group. Please, mon reve.”

Morgan nodded, giving him a quick hug before hurrying into the backseat beside Angela. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Utica, New York

“Are you sure this is ok for the ceremony?” I asked, twirling in the mirror. 

Angela turned from where she was handing Dixon a different top to try on. “You look lovely! Have you ever been to a bonding ceremony?”

“Angela.” Charlie snapped and Neagley shook her head but I put my hand up.

“It’s ok. I have only been to my own and I didn’t get much of a say in it.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t allowed to attend many events.” 

“I’m sorry Morgan, I didn’t think before I spoke.” Angela was ringing her hands together. “When you and Reacher have one you will be able to choose whatever you want.” 

A hush fell over the group as they all looked at me and my heart plummeted. “Oh, um. I don’t know…we’ve never really talked about it…and I…I can’t shift. Excuse me, I should change.” Hurrying back into the dressing room I pulled the dress off and hung it over the door. “Get it together Morgan” I whispered to myself, fighting to keep the tears that had sprung to my eyes from falling. I hadn’t considered that a bonding ceremony would be expected. Did Jack want one? I was a defective wolf. Did I want to go through that again? Knowing how my one to KJ had gone. It had been a miserable few hours in a dress that was too tight and not in my style at all. And then that night…I shuddered, biting my lip hard and covering my mouth to mask the sob that tried to escape. 

By the time I pulled myself together and left the changing room the other women had made their purchases and were waiting by the register. “Did one of you grab the dress off the door? I think i’ll just get that today.” 

“Already taken care of, went ahead and got you a few more things also.” Dixon held up four large bags.

“Big guy wanted us to make sure you were taken care of since we wouldn’t let him be here. That was the only way we were leaving the village without him tailing us and I still double checked on the way here.” Neagley shrugged, flashing Jack’s credit card. 

Charlie stopped me from replying with a hard look. “Morgan, Reacher has plenty of money. He hardly buys anything with his pension and Paul started making investments for him after an incident a few years back.”

“He also cares about you.” Angela smiled shyly. “My comment was foolish before. I wasn’t thinking. But you have to know how much he cares for you. Reacher never lets people in but I see, we all see the way he looks at you.” 

I wiped a tear that slipped out giving the group a watery smile. “I’m really glad I stumbled into this village. You are all wonderful.” I pulled Jack’s card out of Neagley’s hand. “Who’s ready for lunch?” 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Margrave, Northern Georgia

‘Alpha, there’s something you both need to see.” The Kliner packs new head of security appeared in the doorway with an envelope and a tablet. Kliner waved him in, sitting in the big chair behind his desk, leaving KJ to stand beside him. He placed the envelope on the desk and opened it revealing several pictures of Morgan. 

“Where was this and how long ago?” KJ grabbed a photo, studying it closely. 

“Face recognition flagged it ten minutes ago in Utica, New York sir.” the guard answered, reading off the tablet. 

KJ cursed, slamming the photo back onto the desk. “How the fuck did she get to Utica, load up the cars, we leave in one hour.” 

“Wait.” Kliner said calmly but everyone in the room froze. “Who is she with?” He looked over the photos at the other women sitting at the restaurant. 

“We’re running facial recognition on them now Alpha.” he glanced between Alpha and son. 

“We don’t make a move until we know what we’re going into.” He put his hand up to stop KJ’s outburst. “Your stupid decisions regarding Morgan Stone are what got us into this situation.” He turned back to the guard. “Notify her father we have a lead and I want to know the minute we find out who is sheltering her. 

*Italicized section is a direct copy from The Affair by Lee Child

[arachnixe]

Her Triumphant Return

(Part 10 of The New Goddess - Previous: Surrender)

The king’s palace leaves much to be desired. The moment I step foot inside, the first thing I notice is how poorly lit it is compared to mine. Dim and drab and dull, this is what passes for opulence, I guess, anywhere that lacks the benefit of Goddess’s touch.

And that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? We will fix this world.

Velle stands at my side, dressed for the occasion to resemble the sorceress she once was. Not that it took any prodding, really. Given the choice, she gravitates toward her old fashion sense on her own.

I’m sad that I had to fudge the truth a bit, but if a small lie can prevent those awful headaches of hers, I can accept the burden. She believes Goddess has enveloped her in a glamour, making everyone misremember her as the evil sorceress that I, the king’s daughter, quested to stop with the aid of my faithful and loyal friend, Knight Jackdaw.

Of course the truth is that, of the three of us, Velle is the only one anyone perceives accurately.

We kneel before the king’s throne as he offers his formal greeting.

“At last, my daughter returns. Our kingdom’s beloved princess…” his words trail off, momentarily lost within the glamour, knowing he is expected to recognize me but struggling to conjure a name.

“That’s right. I, Princess Canina Rosadeus Lillian Ruten, have returned with good news for the kingdom. Jackdaw and I have captured the Sorceress Velle and stripped her of her magic.” The amulet hanging around my neck bears Her symbol—the eye in the linked rings—and it sparkles as it exerts its influence. It exactly matches those worn by Velle and Jackie, each kissed with holy blessings.

“Princess Canina, yes.” The amulet does what it’s meant to, asserting our modified history in the king’s memories. “Though I forbade you from leaving the palace on this quest, I cannot deny your courage, and I choose to celebrate your accomplishments rather than dole out punishment.”

The king casts his eyes on Velle, and his expression darkens. “You, however. Velle. Enemy of the royal family. Enemy of all Rutennia. I never wished to see your face again.” My woman remains kneeling with her eyes meekly averted, as she knows she must. “That my daughter wishes to keep you as a trophy, I accept only because I know you must find that more humiliating than prison and therefore a better punishment than execution. However, if I see any sign of you resisting your place beneath my daughter, or your magic returning to you, my lenience will end and you will be put down like a dog. Is this understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I hear you, and I vow to obey Her Highness in all things.”

The king responds with a snort. “Acceptable. I do not know how you’ve done it, Canina, but Velle does appear more docile than I’ve ever known her to be.”

“I would be happy to share the story of how we found and won the blessings of the Living Goddess, father. With Her, taming Velle is the least of what we can accomplish. I believe She will help us heal the scars of the rebellion and bring about a new era of prosperity.”

“A living goddess, you say. Well, I grant that you have earned the right to try to sell me on this idea. Not now, however. You should rest, and I have more important matters to attend to. We will speak more at a later date.”

Velle handles her role as my prisoner with skill and grace, meekly following me as the royal servants guide us to the princess’s chambers. Jackie’s uncharacteristic silence through our little performance has me worried, though. When we arrive, I dismiss the servants so that we can have our privacy.

“Hey.” I knock on its armor. “How are you holding up?”

“Who, me? Just fine. Better than fine! I am going to kill everyone in this palace and then myself if I don’t get out of this cage immediately, but other than that, this is basically a vacation for me.”

“Aw, no… I was afraid of that.” I move swiftly to attack the straps and start peeling the armor away. “C’mon, Velle, help me out here.”

She has far less experience with armor than I do, but an extra pair of hands is always welcome for a task like this. I’m just glad that I’m better at handling more of my own memories these days, so we can make this process as quick as possible.

Soon my dear friend is once again able to stretch all its limbs. It blinks open its six other eyes and yawns wide with its whole mouth. “Okay, whew, crisis averted. I’ll probably only kill one or two of the lords or ladies and maybe the king if I’m still hungry afterward.”

I put on my “oh no you don’t” face, raising my eyebrows and tightening my mouth into a thin line.

“Okay! Okay! The king lives.”

“Thank you.”

Velle chimes in. “My dear, as satisfying as it may be, picking off high profile members of the court shortly after we arrive seems like a good way to complicate things unnecessarily.”

Jackie groans in dismay, but she’s right of course. “Yeah, maybe stick to eating people who won’t be missed. Or, you know, regular food… Don’t give me that look, Jay-jay! You won’t have to spend all your time cramped in that armor. You can make some sacrifices like the rest of us.” Still I have such trouble saying no when it looks at me with those big sad eyes. “But… I guess on days like today when you do have to stuff yourself into that thing, you can have one or two people.”

Jackie beams in happiness. “Alright, I’ll take that and run with it before you have a chance to change your mind. Bye-bye!”

In a flash, it skitters out the window. I lean outside to shout after my favorite monster, “remember, nobody important!”

“I’m sure it’ll behave, Nina.” Velle rubs my back in soothing circles. “That thing loves you almost half as much as I do.”

I turn and plant a kiss on her beautiful face. “And that’s almost half as much as I love Nina. I’m sure you’re right as always.”

---

The wardrobe disappoints, even by the standards I thought I lowered enough. Such a meager selection of dresses, all dreadfully tasteful and conservative. If I have to be stuck in such stuffy clothes for too long, the Jackie strategy of murdering everyone will start to sound a little too appealing.

The servants, too. They are well dressed, I suppose, in clothes fine enough to be pleasant on the eyes without overshadowing the wardrobe of the princess, but none of this matches the pure elegance of the maid uniforms of my palace. Did Goddess invent those Herself? I should give thanks for that as well. These here are all so very disappointing.

I kiss my amulet and put my hand on the little statue on my makeshift bedroom altar. “Goddess, give me strength to spread Your message.”

Our first challenge is convincing “father” to grant my Velle a little more autonomy. She can’t accomplish much if she is expected to remain within my sight at all times, after all. It’s just a matter of proving how well-trained she is, and it turns out to be quite persuasive when I have her demonstrate how good she is at tea time in front of the king and his inner circle. My Velle finishes the whole pot by herself and gives the audience a smile and a pretty curtsy while they stare in aghast horror.

“Have you ever seen someone so well domesticated? Are any of your servants so loyal?”

Even the king acknowledges that this Velle has become someone else entirely and agrees “on a provisional basis” to allow her the same autonomy as other servants of the house. I maintain enough self control to wait until we’re alone before tongue-fucking the taste out of her mouth.

---

“Father” is insufferable. Despite what he said at my arrival, he refuses to listen to my proselytizing. He is unmoved by my tales of Her miracles, even when She is the reason Velle listens to me at all. My demands to build an official shrine within the palace are ignored. The only topic he wants to speak to me about is arranging a political marriage and producing a proper heir.

I am grateful to Velle for her tireless work among the servants. Increasingly I see them bearing hand-crafted symbols of the eye-in-linked-rings, flashing the icon where I can see it and giving me a conspiratorial nod as they pass by. I hear their murmurs, thanking “High Priestess Velle of the Living Goddess” and referring to me with awe as “The Chosen.”

Occasionally someone within the palace proves themselves overly hostile about the idea of worshipping Goddess, and Velle carves up a “Jackie treat” for our monster to enjoy. She seems so proud of herself too for bringing a meal it genuinely enjoys. Ah, I never thought I’d see the day that the two of them would get along so well!

It takes time, but we continue making progress sending our invisible tendrils through the royal palace. However obstinate the king proves to be, not all the noble houses are as unreasonable as he is. Plenty of people are desperate for something to believe in, and the idea of a Living Goddess in the world appeals to many. I seek the ear of the nobles, who are often surprised to discover that Goddess has many adherents among their servants already, and this news bolsters their resolve to spread the faith.

I only permit members of the faith to serve me, and I reward those who are most willing to demonstrate their loyalty by giving them the most coveted positions close to me. One earns her place by organizing other servants to build a shrine in secret, against the king’s explicit orders. Another earns a place when they nearly die stopping a knight from reporting the illicit shrine. A third is honored for poisoning her lord after learning he planned to lead a campaign against our “cult.”

The first time I visit the palace’s secret shrine, the beauty brings me to tears. Truly it is no less fine than the one at home, after all, how can a place of worship crafted by loving hands not be perfect just the way it is? I grant a small gathering of faithful the blessing of watching me invoke Goddess for the miracle of bestowing the shrine with a statue in Her likeness. It is a flawless reproduction of the one I know, and the congregation buzzes with excitement that their faith is so rewarded.

Our influence grows by the day, and soon even Jackie is welcomed in its true form by those initiated into the deepest mysteries of our faith.

“Be not afraid,” High Priestess Velle assures them. “This blessed creature is a servant of the Living Goddess and will protect you from retribution for acts carried out in Her name. Go forth and spread the truth of Her divinity, and you will come to no harm.”

---

Something has gone very wrong.

“I don’t understand. Did we anger the Living Goddess? What does this mean?”

I stare in horror at the statue of Goddess, at a loss for words. Grotesque fleshy vines coil all around it, sinking tendrils inside and pulsing horribly. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Goddess didn’t tell me anything. I do my best to compose myself so I don’t scare anyone.

“Fetch me the High Priestess and the Angel if you see it. We must commune with Her together.”

I pray for an answer and hear nothing. I pray for a miracle to stop this, and there is no response. I feel like the floor has suddenly vanished from under my feet, sending me into free fall. Goddess? Where are you?

I’ve never been so scared.

Velle and Jackie arrive hand-in-hand and stop dead in their tracks behind me.

“What the f—“

“She is sick.”

All eyes turn to Velle, the only one who seems to have any idea what’s happening, and we wait for her to continue.

She exhales. “I had a feeling. Jay, you… see Her when you die, yes? What do you remember?”

“Tears,” Jackie shakes its head. “Something about abyssal tears? The Goddess was seeking the power of another dead god.”

My Velle’s mouth moves, voicelessly repeating “dead god” in confusion. I wish she had her memories back already; we could really use a sorceress right about now. Goddess just didn’t think Velle was ready yet.

“Give me the 30-second summary. Quickly.”

I see it in her eyes, headache blooming from merely mentioning dead gods in front of her. If she’s willing to try enduring the pain for Goddess, I should do my part. “Goddess ascended from mortality by claiming the blood of a dead god. Since then, She’s been consuming other dead gods too.”

A scream rips through Velle’s throat as she drops to her knees. Through gritted teeth she hisses “keep going!”

“This is number four,” Jackie adds. “Last time She struggled to digest it. I thought She’d evolved beyond having that problem again, but…”

“She didn’t.” Velle gasps. “It’s too much for Her, isn’t it?”

Goddess never told me She struggled to digest the last one. Nothing is supposed to be too much for Her. This is too much to bear. Goddess! You have to stop!

“I need to touch the statue.”

Jackie cradles her in four arms and brings my dear Velle within arm’s reach of our blighted idol. She reaches out and grabs hold of one of the pulsing vine-things, her face contorted with agony while she pushes herself onward.

“What do you feel?”

“I don’t… know…”

“Can we do anything?”

“I don’t know!“

With that strangled cry on her lips, Velle passes out.

---

“Did you know that the king worships one of the old gods?”

My Velle is still asleep, her dreams apparently troubled, tossing and turning while I sit at her side and hold her hand. I look up at the messenger with tired eyes. “Where did you hear this?”

He hands me a package. “Stolen from his private library. There’s some letters in there, correspondence with some old god cultists, and, uh… references to a secret passage down in the royal catacombs.”

I sigh. “Is this relevant right now?”

The man fidgets, suddenly nervous about failing Goddess’s Chosen. “I just thought you might like some insight into why he resists the Living Goddess. Also…” his words pick up speed with embarrassment, “I dunno. The boy who stole it, his name is Caleb by the way, good kid, really pious, please don’t get mad at him, he said it was divine inspiration that told him you needed it, and I didn’t know what to say to that, I mean, I don’t hear voices or nothin’, but I definitely don’t wanna get in the way of that divine godly stuff, so I said I’d deliver it to you, and maybe you could decide if that relic is important or not, and if it’s not then you can blame me, but don’t blame the kid, he’s just doin’ his best, and…”

Without warning, Velle jerks upright as if awakened by the man’s words. “A relic? Give me those.”

The poor guy flicks his eyes back and forth between the two of us, and with a nod I invite him to hand the package to Velle. He does and promptly flees the room in reverse, bowing to us the whole time.

“Are you sure you’re okay looking at that stuff? I’m worried about you getting another of those headaches.”

“Hm? It’s fine, don’t worry.” Velle ignores my concern, pouring over the contents of the package like a woman possessed, a look in her eyes I don’t recognize as she mutters to herself the whole time. Looking up at me with an unsettling expression, she barks, “paper, ink, quickly!”

I get her to a desk with the writing implements she demands, and soon she’s scribbling notes furiously. “No time, there’s no time. Not a chance in hell he won’t notice this missing. If we’re lucky, he’s occupied, and maybe we can beat him there.” I don’t know if she’s speaking to me or to herself, but I stay out of her way until she finishes, snatching up her notes and bolting to the door.

I follow her down through the passageways of the palace. I have not learned so much of the lower levels as she seems to have, but as I follow her I feel a sinking feeling in my gut telling me this isn’t my Velle any longer.

By torchlight we make our way through the royal catacombs dug beneath all other levels of the palace. The woman who looks so much like mine finds a hidden switch and reveals a path still deeper. We descend a staircase that looks far less worn than its age would suggest, and before long we arrive at a room illuminated by its own unnatural emerald light.

The king is already there.

“I don’t know how you contrived this scheme, Velle, but you truly had me fooled. I always thought your ego precluded debasing yourself for the sake of even a plan like this.” He turns to face us, and I see the same emerald glow in his eyes. “And my false daughter. Now I have the vision to pierce through your glamour. Tell me, what happened to Natalia and that boy Wolfgang? What is your plan for them?”

“Every scheme and every Plan I ever made has crumbled into dust, Alexander. I’m playing it by ear now.” Velle’s voice is as cold as it was during that fateful confrontation so long ago. It makes me shiver. “Wolfgang is dead. Natalia is dying, and one way or another both you and your kingdom will not be far behind.”

“No bitch like you is going to end my line.” The king bares his teeth in a snarl. “You have no idea the power that lurks down here. The ancient signet ring of Lord Turasz, God of the Waking Nightmare, rests in this very tomb.”

He gestures behind him at a skeletal hand bearing a shining emerald ring. “It is heresy to access its power, but once you tripped Lange’s wards on that book, well, better me than you, I think.”

“Velle,” I’m at a complete loss. Everything is going wrong. “What are you—?”

“Learning from past mistakes,” she says, holding out her hand.

Without transition, the signet ring rests in her palm.

[snakxreader]

how.... how about wambus inviting the reader to garden.... and. spmehow getting in a situatio nwhere he has to pick me I MEAN THE READER up in his big strong paws

A/N: Feeding the Wambus simps, but ALSO, I did add a little bonus of how the Sauce plants in-game regrow so quickly! I’m, uh, sorry if you didn’t want that, but I figured it’d be a fun way to twist the gardening idea ^^’ I still hope you enjoy nonetheless!!

Wambus x Reader (Gardening)

“W-woah!”

“Careful now, this terrain is tricky. Here, hold onto my paw.”

You grabbed his paw as he pulled you down towards him, and barreled into him. Your face turned scarlet. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright. Ain’t got nuthin to apologize for.”

You pulled away from the farmer, groaning from the impact still. “How much farther…?”

“Only a bit of a short walk. Come in!” Wambus called eagerly, almost heading off by his damn self. You run over and smack him on the back, which he barks out a laugh. “What? Thought you were followin’ me!”

“No you didn’t, you giant douchebag!”

Wambus shrugged his shoulders innocently, and you got him again, as he laughed harder this time, his eyes bright and cheery. The sight makes you blush a bit, as you turn away out of pretend annoyance.

You’ve had a bit of a crush on your close friend, Wambus, for a while now. Something about him just makes you gravitate towards him and despite your hidden feelings, you two became close friends. Close enough where he invited you to garden with him.

When you first heard, you didn’t quite believe your ears. “Uh, Wambus? I don’t know the first thing about gardening.”

He shrugged. “So? I’ll just teach you then.”

“Really….?!”

“We’re close, ain’t we?”

And that was that. The two of you set off at dawn, which if it weren’t for the adrenaline of constantly moving, would’ve drained you completely. But, it lets you see Garden Grove in a whole new light.

Even with the chilly morning air, the sunrise was beautiful. You could see multiple Bugsnax just flying around, or bumbling in the ground, enjoying life to the fullest. The orange hue in the clouds and sky is something you never wanted to forget.

“Really pretty, ain’t it?”

You blinked. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

“The sky. It’s really nice.” His raspy tone turned a bit brighter. “You don’t see sights like this much….”

“Not in the city, you mean?” You can’t help but tease as he huffs.

“Maybe. One thing I like about this island? Still full of natural beauty.”

“I suppose.” You shrug. “I don’t really see that much beauty in Snaktooth often.” Wambus looks behind you as you walk up a slope-like cavern. Glances you up and down, but as he turns away, you could almost swear you see him smiling.

“Yeah? You should look a bit closer then.”

He clearly found something humorous. You didn’t get the chance to ask him what, before emerging at the garden. You noticed a White Strabby roaming around, before it darted into the bushes at sight of you and Wambus. Other than that, it seemed like an abandoned garden. Roots over flowed, and while there was some output, it wasn’t as plentiful as Snaxburg’s farm. Wambus cringed.

“Grump damn.”

“H-hey, it’s not that bad!” You tried to see the positive side. “We just gotta pull out some roots, no big deal, right?”

Big deal, actually. There were multiple, burrowed deep into the ground. You and Wambus must’ve spent at least an hour pulling them out. However, it was incredibly rewarding, seeing the garden look even just a little bit better.

“I assume we can actually start now?” You asked. Wambus stuck his hand deep enough into the dirt, and massaged it for a bit before nodding. “Yeah. This seems good ‘nough, at least.”

“Thank Grump.” You sigh in relief. “So, what exactly are we planting anyways?”

He digs into a pocket in his flannel, pulling out a sauce seed bag. He picks a tiny one, covered in a reddish hue. You blink. “Huh…those little guys are what turn into Sauce?”

“If you plant 'em’ right.” He motions you closer. You crouch, as Wambus gently cuts away at the seed with a spade. Once the tip is opened, he rests it down. “See, this is the quickest way. Its tip eventually breaks out itself, but it’s a longer while.” He then produced a small canteen, and poured a small amount in a little dirt hole. “And it grows better submerged in water. Increases germination rapidly, especially for these critters.”

“Germination?”

“Process of seeds to seedlings.” He burrows it carefully, burying it under the soil with a few pats. “Alright…four..three..two..one…”

The seedling pops out of the ground, leaving you looking shocked. Wambus laughs. “Surprised the shit outta me too! This place must have miracle soil!” You could believe that, especially after what you just saw.

“Alright, lemme try!” You had to do this yourself, mainly out of curiosity. You picked a seed, and began to gnaw away with Wambus’s spade.

“Woah, woah, woah!” He grabbed your hands, pausing you. “You’re gonna split the darn thing in half! Here, hold on a minute.” He got up for a second, and before you could ask, plop down behind you, intertwining his hands with yours. Your breath hitches, your heartbeat accelerating. He’s soft with you, careful because of the seed in your hand. He holds the seed using your thumb and presses the spade down at the tip, cutting it with ease.

“See? You gotta find the perfect mix between gentle and firm.” His murmur sent shivers down your spine, being so close to your ear.

“Easy for you to say, you’re an experienced farmer.” You retort, face aflame. He’s still holding you so gently and so grumping soft, you feel like your heart’s gonna explode.

“Well. Good thing you have me in your life then, eh?”

The next few minutes are quiet and gentle. Slowly, oh so slowly, you cut seeds and put them in the ground, sealing them up with a little pat. Of course, this is simply Wambus helping you because you still can’t cut them properly after five examples and totally not because you like the feeling of his hands covering yours. He humors you anyways, and you both get 5 separate seedlings out of it.

He pulls you in close. “Well, I’d say you did pretty well for your first time doing this.”

“You walked me through the entire thing.”

“Nah. More like I was helping out a professional.”

You snorted, a bit of a yawn escaping your mouth. Wambus looked at you with a raised brow, but you shrugged him off. You were just a bit tired. You’d be fine.

So, you began the trip back to Snaxburg, because Wambus couldn't leave his farm alone for too long. But your body didn’t make it easy. Your adrenaline was gone, and you were feeling incredibly drowsy. You could still walk though, so maybe…just keep walking…and stay close to Wambus so you don’t-

“WOAH!”

You blinked, inches away from the dirt ground. You feel your right foot trapped in one of the tree roots in the grove. Oops.

“Shoot- sorry, I’m just a little tired.” You apologized. Wambus glowered at you.

“A little? You nearly fell face first into the ground.”

“It’s fine-“ But that’s all you could get out before Wambus picked you up and carried you in his arms. “What the-?! Wambus!” Your face is absolutely on fire right now, as the farmer carried you.

“I don’t want you rolling down a hill or somethin. Just stay still!”

A part of you wanted to protest, but that part was quickly overturned by the thought of being carried by Wambus. You fell silent as he switched to carry you in an almost bridal style position.

“I still could’ve walked by myself.”

Wambus snorted. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

You didn’t even half the energy to try and figure out the meaning of that.

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

The Lair in the Woods: Part 10

A/N: I’M SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, Y’ALL😭💜 Life’s been busy, but it’s all good stuff (okay well, not all of it but like 90% of it cause life is life and it’s not perfect😂) Good news: book 2 is published, formatting for book 3 is well under way, and I love the job I started around the time of my last update😎 Bad news: I have no idea what free time is anymore (hence my overall disappearance from social media aside from scheduled posts and the dramatic decline in my interactions on here and the actual hellsites)😵

Warnings: reference to being stalked, deception, reference to anxiety, reference to potential murder, hidden identity, some swearing…I think that’s it?? If I missed anything, please let me know😊

My Masterlist | Taglist Info or Taglist Request Form | The Lair in the Woods masterlist

Supervillain wiped their hands dry on a kitchen towel without much thought to the action. Their mind was too preoccupied by Civilian.

More specifically, speculations about who their stalker might be wholly consumed their mind until their phone buzzing on the counter broke their concentration. Setting the towel aside, Supervillain’s brows drew together as they read the caller ID.

“And here I thought I’d have to call you,” they said quietly.

“Yeah, well,” Hero said, “it’s considered professional courtesy to keep each other informed, so don’t get used to it because once we find Civilian Surname’s stalker, this ends and I go back to investigating you.”

Supervillain hummed. “Then I suppose we needn’t drag this out any longer, because I’d rather not get too close to one of the Agency’s pawns.”

They didn’t have to see Hero to know the look on their face. They’d seen it plenty enough times when they’d goaded them in the past—truth be told though, that felt like another lifetime now. Supervillain’s smirk only grew sharper at the tension in Hero’s voice when they replied.

“Very funny,” they said, “but I have better things to do with my time than investigate something so—”

Supervillain’s smirk fell. “Hero, we had an agreement, you said—”

“And there it is.” The Hero’s grin was irritatingly audible, causing Supervillain to clench their jaw as they could see the expression as clear as day in their mind. “We do have an agreement, which is why I’m calling you in the first place. I just hope reminding you that this is a partnership for Civilian’s sake isn’t going to be a recurring thing because I do have better things to do with my time that isn’t rubbing elbows with a wanted criminal.”

Supervillain let out the breath they’d been holding in an effort to stop themselves from snapping at Hero. “What did you find?”

“That’s better. So anyway, I formally adopted the case and took a look, but as far as I can tell, the police investigation is as thorough as it can be. Whoever Civlian’s stalker is, they’re either a professional or have a little extra help, maybe both. I’ve gotta ask,” Hero started, taking a breath, “who are they again?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Supervillain mumbled. Pinching the bridge of their nose, Supervillain turned around and leaned against the counter. Just as they went to respond, a shadow of movement caught their attention. Their eyes flicked toward the movement in time to see Civilian quietly slinking into the living room and sitting back down by the fire. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see what I can find and have Right Hand send you what they’ve dug up thus far.”

“Wait, what do you me—”

Supervillain didn’t let them finish, hanging up and shoving their phone in their pocket.

Making certain their footfalls were heavy enough that Civilian could hear them coming but soft enough that they wouldn’t startle them, Supervillain joined them, sitting in their favorite armchair and offering them a smile.

“Feeling better?”

Civilian met their gaze. “Yeah, actually. I think I am.” They paused, glancing about uncertainly. Nibbling on their lip, Civilian’s eyes slowly gravitated back toward them. “Was that your contact, in the city?”

“It was,” Supervillain nodded. “They told me that they’ve started looking into your case and confirmed that the investigation conducted by the local PD was at least thorough.”

Civilian bobbed their head, though their face remained unchanged. Supervillain studied them curiously.

“So what does that mean for me?”

“Well…” Supervillain began hesitantly, “maybe you could help me? Do you mind if I ask you some questions about your life, your routine, the people you know, things of that nature?”

Civilian drew their knees up to their chest and wrapped their arms around them. They still looked exhausted, but behind their eyes was a spark. Supervillain wondered if that meant they were ready to start fighting instead of trying to outrun their stalker.

If so, that was good.

Better than good, it was perfect, actually.

Already, a plan began to bloom in Supervillain’s mind as they asked about anything that could help shed a light to help guide their own investigation.

***

Hero stared at their phone with a frown. Whoever Civilian was, they’d certain changed Supervillain. But now they knew Supervillain didn’t know Civilian Surname. That as much was true.

That’s what I’m trying to figure out, they’d said, sounding just as confused and in the dark as Hero was.

Over and over again, their question and Supervillain’s unguarded response echoed in their head. But it wasn’t as simple as who was Civilian Surname. What really mattered was, how?

How did Civilian catch their stalker’s eye? What made their stalker drawn to them? Where had they first seen Civilian? And when had they chosen to stalk Civilian? How many times had they seen them before that decision was made?

The place they’d first seen or had been in contact with Civilian was perhaps the most important in Hero’s opinion. If they could just narrow it down to that, then maybe they could narrow down a list of suspects specific to that particular facet of Civilian’s life.

Shaking their head, Hero pulled their coat back on and grabbed their keys. They’d just barely have enough time to pick up some coffee before their meeting with Detective…and still be five minutes early like Detective liked. So help the fool that that showed up late. Hero learned that the hard way one time. It didn’t matter that they’d stopped Other Villain from melting Central Museum’s vault and stealing the Precious Artifact worth millions on the black market that could’ve funded their world domination plan, all Detective had cared about was the disrespect they’d shown them by being late.

And so began the vicious cycle of Detective returning the courtesy by making Hero’s job as difficult as possible for the next two weeks until Hero finally decided to show up an hour early and sat and waited for Detective outside their office to get a records release form signed.

Hero hadn’t thought Detective would come around after that, but as it turned out they were both spitefully petty.

Ever since then, they’d had one hell of a working relationship and tight-knit friendship.

“Well, well, well, look who’s early. I wish all my caped partners were as punctual.”

Hero pressed a hand to their chest in mock offense. “Detective, are you working with other heroes behind my back?”

“What can I say,” Detective sighed, taking the coffee Hero offered them, “someone’s got to do your grunt work and we all know that when Other Detective does the paperwork, it’s never admissible in court because they don’t do it right.”

“Vigilante case fell through again?” Hero sat on the edge of Detective’s desk as they resumed their seat.

Detective groaned in response. “Don’t even get me started. It’s like they want the case thrown out.”

“Have you ever wonder—”

“Every. Single. Time.” Detective’s face turned to stone. Their eyes withdrew, focusing on whatever internal thoughts were flitting through their head.

“Well Supervillain owes me a favor,” Hero said quickly, taking an innocuous sip of coffee.

“What?” Detective shot up and slammed their hands on their desk, nearly toppling over their coffee cup and the precarious stacks of paperwork scattered across their desk. “You mean Supervillain, the most ruthless criminal that’s always one step ahead of the law and probably has dossiers on all of us, owes you a favor because you promised to help their precious civilian?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Detective rolled their eyes. “Wow. So, Supervillian gave away one of the most powerful chips in the caped community—no, the entire professional world regardless of profession—to the likes of you.” Detective plopped back down in their seat with a crooked smile. “This has got to be the worst week of their career!” Detective sobered, “Well, this and when Partner dropped off the face of the earth. That’s another one I can’t seem to find. It’s like they’re a ghost.”

Hero’s brows furrowed. They dropped their gaze to the floor. “They’re probably dead. I’ll bet all I have that Supervillain killed them and that’s why you can’t find a body. There probably isn’t one, if Supervillain’s reputation is anywhere near accurate.”

Detective threw their head back laughing.

“You’re probably right! There’s no way Supervillain would let someone, anyone, walk away. I guess you’ll just have to do a little digging for me while you’re working with them to catch Civilian’s stalker.”

“I’ll do my best, but no promises, Detective.”

“And that’s what I like about working with you,” they said, motioning for them to hand over the copies of Civilian’s files Hero had made up for them. “You don’t have a super-inflated ego or think that I’m somehow lesser than you just because I haven’t got a cape and mask and glowing hands or whatever.”

“Superhero again?”

“YES!” Detective burst, “If the media knew half the shit I do about them, they’d drag Supes through town square like they deserve.”

“Or I could make sure back up shows up a little late and they take a few more punches to the face from Other Supervillain?”

“I would love that,” Detective smiled, scanning the pages before them. “This is it? This is all we have to work with?”

Hero nodded. “Supervillain said they’d have Right Hand send over what they’ve got so far.”

“It’s a start, I guess,” Detective grumbled, “If we manage to find their stalker and bring them to justice, it’ll be nothing short of a miracle.”

Hero didn’t bother to agree. Whatever Supervillain was scheming in order to catch Civilian’s stalker, they only hoped it ended the whole affair sooner rather than later, like before anyone had a chance to connect the dots.

The Lair in the Woods Taglist: @just-a-space-rabbit @classicplesiosaur @pigeonwhumps @heninthegarden @kaiwewi @korejon @rivalriotrenegade @alpacamelons @averyconfusedhuman @amerementdoux @istealpants @sweetpeaflower01 @theimportantbreadtraveler Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed (no reason necessary😊)! You can also fill out this handy dandy form if you’d like to be added too!

[axisjr]

TIMING: June 14th, 2023 PARTIES: Nora @honeysmokedham & Van @vanoincidence LOCATION: A Latte to Love SUMMARY: Van runs into Nora once again with the pink drink. This time, Nora is prepared and sidesteps her. WARNINGS : N/A

Van wasn’t sure that more caffeine was a good idea. She had stayed up all night playing games so that she wouldn’t think. So that if she closed her eyes, she’d see the bright hues from her screen instead of the face of somebody who she didn’t think she was ever supposed to know. It was easier, distracting and distancing herself from everything that had happened. It was easier to pour herself into what she enjoyed than it was to confront the very thing that made her so desperate for the distractions in the first place. But she was paying for it now. She did her best to stay hydrated, her grandmother’s voice ringing in her ears with every sip of red bull she took. She tried her best to stay fed, too, but it was getting harder to not gorge herself on uncrustables instead of anything with actual nutritional value. 

Like a zombie, Van shouldered the door of Latte Love open. She wasn’t watching where she was going, but luckily, the person she had nearly run into had stepped out of the way. Her drink went everywhere, pink coming to splash up on her shirt, as well as across the sidewalk. The espresso shot at the bottom of the cup leaked out of the crack of the cup and she stared downwards, mortified. It took her a moment to look up, but when she caught Nora’s gaze, she could have laughed. Instead, she sagged against the wall and held her face in her hands, a high pitched whine leaving her. She felt sticky and embarrassed, just like that day in New York. This time, at least, Nora didn’t seem like she’d gotten any on her. “You’re like a magnet.” Taking a deep breath, she looked between her fingers at Nora. “For frappe’s.”

–

Latte to Love was just a place Nora ended up gravitating to. There were always new people going in and out. There was the barista she liked to torment. Then there were the scenes she could cause if she went in to make a new friend. The location held the ability to feed many aspects of her needs: food, fear, fun. It all depended on who was around at the time. As Nora approached the building, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face exiting the premises. A pink drink was clutched firmly in her hand. This was a moment of true Deja vu. Nora knew how this panned out. Without skipping a beat, Nora stepped to the side. Just in time as the pink drink splattered everywhere. 

Van's face was covered by her hands, but Nora could smell the familiar fear drifting from her. Something had changed. A scent in the fear had shifted becoming deeper and more powerful. Nora took a deep breath in as she wondered what event changed her friend's fear. Was it because of Debbie or something before? Nora crossed her arms looking down at the mess splayed in front of them. "I think you are bad at carrying things," Nora stated noticing a tiny flick of pink shown on her combat boots. She wiped it off against the pavement. "Have you tried carrying different drinks? It might work better for you."  

–

“I’m not…” Nora was right. She was bad at carrying things. Or maybe it was just the pink drink she so sorely wanted. Van sighed and wiped her hands off on her jeans, grimacing at the way her fingers felt sticky with sugar. The drink probably wasn’t even the best choice, so maybe it was for the best that it had gotten destroyed. “Usually bad at it.” Only when it mattered, she guessed. How many more times would she throw a frappe at Nora’s feet? She looked down and noticed flecks of pink on her boots and she bit the inside of her cheek hard, but not hard enough to draw any blood. 

“Can’t survive on water, so I’m not sure I can do that.” Van ignored the fact that water was one of the things that she could survive on in its entirety. Maybe not alone, but in terms of liquid. The specifics didn’t matter. What mattered was her lack of sleep and hydration and the way that her vision was blurring every so often with said exhaustion. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, looking up to see a figure standing behind Nora. “Wha–” She blinked, then looked at the other girl who seemed unaware. “Hey–” She jabbed through the air at the man, nowhere near close enough to actually reach him. Fear acted as a blanket the longer he stared. She felt her skin begin to prickle. “Who–” 

–

Nora’s hands found their way back into her pockets, as she stood slumped there. “Third’s time the charm.” Nora noted, a hand casually leaving her pocket and swatting at Van’s arm. That was what friends did right? Friend swats to the arm? In support? The moment had been awkward. The movement hadn’t felt right to Nora. Her hand slunk back into its pocket and Nora summoned an illusion to make up for the awkward moment she’d attempted.

“You can survive on water.” Nora answered back, “You just want pink drink.” The amount of sugar in those drinks made her stomach hurt. Nora was decidedly a savory girlie.  Behind her, her illusion lurked. It was the hat man, world famous for his appearances in people’s sleep paralysis. Normally Nora wouldn’t summon an illusion of a famous monster. Not only were most of them copywritten, but everything she created was so much better. Today was an exception to the rule. This scare was spur of the moment, and Van’s need for coffee probably meant she was tired. Hat man seemed right. He stood lurking behind Nora, blurring in with the background. As Van tried to focus on the figure, it blurred more and more. “Who?” Nora turned around, making the illusion disappear. “You alright Van? Really needed that coffee, huh?”

–

Only half paying attention to Nora, Van shook her head. “The pink drink is better.” Better than the cheese she’d wanted, too, even though now she wasn’t sure it’d been cheese at all. Emilio had probably been right, and she really needed to stop putting so much faith in strangers. The last time she had, they ended up killing somebody. Then again, they’d saved her life, too. She cleared her throat and tried to distract herself both from the memory of Debbie as well as the figure that was behind Nora. Clearly it was because she hadn’t gotten any sleep. This had happened once or twice after she’d played a particularly horrific game. It had haunted her for weeks. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Van let out a nervous laugh and took a small step back, nearly falling off of the curb. She struggled to stay upright, grabbing onto the nearby waste basket. Its metal didn’t budge beneath her grip and she was grateful. “All over the place, sorta.” The man– no, the thing– the thing that didn’t exist, was still behind Nora. Van tried her best to focus on the other girl’s blank expression. “I ran into Ren,” Van tested, “got her to join us for Into the Spiderverse, if you wanted to join.” She gave Nora a hesitant smile, noticing the way that the figure’s shape shifted from behind her friend. A cold chill went down her spine and she began to fidget with the half-torn belt she was wearing. “But um, I’m not sure… when…” Her gaze found its way back to the figure, its features still blurred. “Are you sure–” She turned around, squinting up at the shop’s roof to see if there was any kind of projection equipment bolted to it. No dice. She turned back to look at Nora with an apologetic expression. “Been nothing but red bull lately, and like, a few slim jims. Some asshole keeps buying out the whole store when I go.” There were other stores, but she didn’t feel comfortable going back to the one they’d murdered Debbie in, and the gas stations always had stale slim jims. “You can imagine how constipated a bitch is.” Why did she say that? “Sorry.” 

–

 Nora’s head titled to the side as a look of distraction crossed over Van’s face. “Have you been sleeping?” She asked. Nora had only been sleeping because of the physical effort she put her body through each night. Each night she made sure to train until her mind turned off, and if her brain couldn’t turn off then she put in enough physical effort to shut her body off completely. Sure, she was sore all the time, but it was better than the sore feeling of remembering everything that had happened. “Do you wanna work out with me? At night before bed. To sleep.”

Behind Nora, she increased the illusion. She sharpened the lines; she moved him closer. His hand was reaching out towards her own shoulder, just to add a flair of the dramatics. Just for the fun of it. The horror of what would a stranger be doing grabbing my friend. These were the games Nora played. Nora did wonder if Van was too sleepy to notice. She noticed the other girl grip a garbage can to stay up straight. Interesting.

“I’m down.” Nora accepted her invitation to watch Spiderverse with grace. It was funny, just a week ago Nora wanted to do nothing but sit in her crypt and isolate herself from the world. Now she was ready to get back out there again. It helped to know that the Allgoods were bound together by something more than friendship. They shared a bond, an oath. It was irreplaceable. “Who’s the asshole who keeps stealing your slim jims?” Nora liked slim jims, she’d been stealing some from Emilio lately. “You want me to fight someone for you?” And Nora, even though she was actively trying to scare Van at the moment, knew she would. What she didn’t know was what to do with the information of her friend’s constipation. “I think coffee would help more with that than a pink drink.” 

–

Nora’s question caught Van off guard, but only slightly. She let out a nervous laugh and ran her fingers through her hair. “Why wouldn’t I be sleeping? I’ve been sleeping.” She’d always been a terrible liar. The only place she could effectively lie was behind a computer screen, and even then, sometimes she felt guilty abou tit. At the other girl’s offer, she shook her head. “No, it’s okay, I mean… I don’t want to ruin your routine.” Plus, the idea of working out even if it did exhaust her to the point of no return made her prematurely exhausted. “I’ve been sleeping though, so it’s okay.” She tried to give her best attempt at a reassuring smile, but it fell a little short. 

The figure behind Nora moved and Van felt her mouth go dry. She glanced from Nora who was still blissfully unaware, to the man behind her. He wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. Wouldn’t Nora have noticed? She felt the anxiety bubble, felt her stomach start to churn. “Um–” 

And then Nora accepted the invitation. She cleared her throat, glad for the distraction, no matter how small. “Cool, I’ll uh… I told Ren I’d pick up snacks..” She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing her gaze to remain on Nora’s unmoving expression. At her question, Van shook her head. “I’m not sure.” She hadn’t even thought that it could have been Emilio. It made sense, if she really paid attention to the fact that she’d gotten him hooked on them, he had even admitted it. “Hm?” Distracted, Van did her best to keep her gaze from lifting back up to the figure behind Nora. He looked so clear, even out of the corner of her eye. “No, you don’t…” She rubbed her eyes again, hopeful this time that he’d be gone completely. Of course he wasn’t. “You don’t need to do that.” Van dropped her gaze to the drink that was splattered on the ground. She still felt sticky. “Yeah, maybe. More fiber. People say to eat beans, but I’m not…” She shook her head again, supplying Nora with a nervous smile. “Sorry, I’m–” The figure was still there, no matter how many times she looked away. “I um…” She swallowed thickly, mouth still dry, desperate for some reprieve. “Yeah. Beans.” 

–

“Because you look like you’re running on caffeine and your caffeine just spilled all over the pavement.” Nora answered, kicking her a foot at the slowly drying pink drink that was congealing into the pavement. “It wouldn’t be ruining my routine. It would be adding to it.” Nora added that last bit. “It won’t change anything I do. You’d just be joining.” Nora pulled a knife out of her overall pockets, flipping it between her fingers. Something she’d gotten good at during the restless nights training. “Don’t you think you’d sleep better knowing how to defend yourself?” 

Nora tracked Van’s eyes flicking between herself and the little friend Nora had conjured up for Van to enjoy. The scent of fear was slowly starting to trickle out around them, giving Nora a nice little snack as the conversation progressed. Move night and snacks. “Shame its not a horror movie.” Nora commented, that would have given her ample snacks. “I’ll scrounge up something. Do you want me to steal alcohol from my boss? He’s always got so much around he probably won’t notice a few bottles missing.” It was a shame when Van said she didn’t need to fight the asshole who kept taking her slim jims. Nora was recently certain she could probably win in a fight. It could be fun to fuck around and find out.

Van was starting to get into peak nervous territory. She was stumbling across her words as she tried to grab on to a train of thought long enough to convey whatever constipation talk she’d be on to. Now was the time to strike. The figure behind Nora reached forward, wrapping an arm around her neck and a hand clamping to her mouth as if he was going to drag her back. A portal to “hell” opened behind the both of them, tentacles emerging and waving around ready to drag anyone in. Nora was surprised at how empty their piece of street was, normally this sort of scare would cause a commotion, instead it was just the two teen girls there to enjoy her performance piece. Oh well. 

–

“I–” Van’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the knife. She looked from it, back to Nora as she flipped it easily over her fingers– to and fro, between, outward. Van was a little mesmerized at the motion, but her grandmother’s voice rang at the back of her mind. “I’m not allowed to play with knives. They’re dangerous.” She was dangerous, too, she thought. What would happen if somebody gave her a knife? Something like what happened with Debbie, only worse? “That’s.. it’s okay, I.. thanks, anyway.” She didn’t think she had much to defend herself from other than girls who wanted her dead, but the only one who did was already gone, decaying in a pit underneath how many more bodies? 

Van blinked at Nora, doing her best to ignore the figure that was still standing behind her. “We could… watch a horror movie, if you want.” She was too tired to argue about what movies they should watch. She had already told Ren they’d be watching Into the Spiderverse, so she felt guilty trying to swap it just to appease Nora. “We can have a sleepover with a scary movie another time if it doesn’t work out.” She swallowed, throat still dry. “Steal… alcohol from your boss?” Every word that Van managed to say was long and drawn out, as if she were only now learning how to speak. It was hard to keep steady when somebody was staring at her from over Nora’s shoulder. But they couldn’t be real, so telling Nora about them would be stupid. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.” 

She thought very briefly about what kind of horror movie they could all watch together. Van knew gore was out of the question, so maybe something with a haunting. She tried her best to adjust her mind to the here and now, to not think about the figure continuing to loom over Nora’s shoulder even as it– what was it doing? Van opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. The figure clasped its hand over Nora’s mouth and began to drag her backwards. The portal was reminiscent of one she’d already seen, but– 

“Nora!” Van’s scream was loud, and just next to them, the trashcan that she had held onto began to melt into a puddle. A nearby car alarm went off, and then the windows of it shattered. She made a grab for her friend’s hand, her nails clawing at the other girl’s skin to keep her from falling backwards. Tears wet her eyes as she pulled the other girl back towards her, throwing her arms around her as the figure disappeared. 

–

The look in Van’s eyes struck Nora. Quickly, she shoved the knife back into her overalls. Of course it had been tasteless to pull out the knife. Not after the last time Van had seen Nora with a knife. She hadn’t even thought. The knife she’d pulled out had been Slayer, the old and worn bowie Emilio had given her. The knife that had killed Debbie was also tucked on her person, Vampire, given to her by Metzli. Van said something about not being allowed to play with knives and fuck. Of course, she was fucking normal. Nora had walked away from their Debbie encounter determined to protect herself and everyone she loved. Van had probably walked away traumatized and not wanting to see a knife ever again. Nora was really so fucking stupid. It was a good thing she had a scare on the way to change the subject and get Van’s mind off of it.

“I thought we were watching spiderverse? We can do horror some other time. No one is going anywhere.” Right? The right was silent. Nora didn’t want to lose her new group of friends now that she had made them. “Yeah. Some other time.” Nora agreed. Mission steal alcohol from her boss for a sleep over was ago. Nora knew it wouldn’t be hard. The old man got pissed when she touched his alcohol but he could go out and buy some more.

The scare was ago, the fear coming from Van was ramped up giving Nora a full meal to enjoy. Except something else happened.  Something that didn’t normally come with Nora’s scares. It was as if a disturbance had touched the streets. Windows burst around them, showering the girls in a thin glass rain. Van was dragging Nora back from the illusioned gates of hell, her fingernails digging into Nora’s skin causing pricks of pain to prickle at Nora’s arms, but Nora didn’t care.  Nora let the illusion dissipate around her, standing there like an emoji as she tried to piece together what had happened. The trashcan next to Van, the one that she had been leaning on was melted into a puddle. Nora’s eyes flickered between the two, the melted trash can, a mockery of the pink drink, and to Van, who must have done it?

“What just happened?” Nora asked. Her face refusing to give away any emotion. “What was that about?” Nora flipped around, staring in the opposite direction to see if anyone else was around. People started coming out of the shops to check why their windows had suddenly exploded. Nora could catch whispers of a sudden earthquake, or just too much sun. Someone even joked the car alarm must be pitched too high. Sound other then Van’s screaming, windows shattering, and the car started to fill their world. 

–

Maybe in another life, Van could have listened to Nora talk about self defense and identify with her. Maybe she’d take the knife from Nora and play with it, too. In that life, she wouldn’t be afraid of everything. She would go outside and enjoy the world without care, and she would take Nora up on her lessons, and Cass up on the visit to her supposed home-cave. She could do things without worry. But that was not this life, because Nora was slipping away. 

The figure behind Nora was hard to remember, despite it only having just disappeared. Van stood in front of Nora, fingers digging into her friend’s arms. She stared at her, eyes wide with surprise, completely ignorant to anything that had happened around them. 

Nora was speaking, but Van couldn’t quite hear her. Or maybe that was wrong. Maybe she needed to listen. Van tried to focus, her mouth still dry from the fear that’d dug its talons into her. She felt it all over her body– the way it felt ablaze, the cold sweat at the back of her neck. “What–” She blinked at her friend, not bothering to wipe the tears away from her cheeks as they rolled down, hitting her t-shirt. “I don’t–” She looked behind Nora. The figure was still gone. She blinked rapidly as if to trick the being into coming back, but nothing happened. She let go of Nora’s arms, her fingers stiff. “I don’t… did you…” Van chewed her bottom lip, staring at the other girl, words escaping her. “The man. You didn’t see him?” How had she not? She’d almost got ripped backwards into a void of some kind. It was absurd to think that she hadn’t been aware. But she didn’t seem scared. 

It took her too long to notice the broken glass and the melted trash can. Once she did, something rooted itself in her. “No, no, no.” She shook her head, looking at Nora with a pleading expression. “I didn’t– I didn’t do this, you have to believe me.” Van grabbed one of Nora’s hands and squeezed it tightly. “You believe me, right? I didn’t do this. Please, Nora.” 

—

Van was crying. For a moment, for the briefest moment, Nora was starting to suspect that the scare had been too much. That after everything they had gone through together, Nora should have held back her fun little joke in favor of something soft. The soft place to land that reassured her everything was going to be okay, the place she had in Emilio, Leti and Metzli. It was something she should have offered her friend here. That moment passed; a thought too slippery for Nora to grasp in the confusion of the moment. Nora stared at her friend’s tear-stained face, a question on her lips drowned out by the car alarm.

People were starting to look at them. People were swarming. Van still struggled with words. Nora tried to follow the lines of conversation. See the man? Yes she had created the man. But Nora couldn’t answer, Van was still going. Nos followed by a I didn’t do this believe me. Please believe me. The hair standing up on the back of Nora’s neck told her that she didn’t know what to believe. The windows didn’t explode because of Nora. If Van didn’t do it, then something did. Right?

Nora flipped the grip on Van. No longer being held on to by her friend, Nora was holding her, dragging her into the crowd and propelling them through. Her elbow met with any person that didn’t move fast enough as Nora shoved them farther and farther from the scene of the… of whatever that had been. If it wasn’t Van, and it wasn’t Nora it was something. “We’re going to your house.” Nora told Van. “It’ll be okay. I’ll keep us safe.” Nora looked back at her friend. Her friend that was bonded to her through promise and their shared scar. “I believe you.” Because Nora did. At least she wanted to.