#so scuff but been meaning to do this edit for a while

[harleehazbinfics]

Home is where my heart is.

Chapter 4: Family Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 2000+ A/N: WHERE ALREADY AT CHAPTER FOURRR AAA this concludes the life they had while they were human, but we'll still have a few flashbacks to see cuz plot. also thank you for over 1,000+ of likes and reblogs that means so much to me that you enjoy my works. i think y'all really liked the devout one lol, i'll just say now that i have plans to make it about lucifer so if you're into that please expect more and hit follow, really helps when peeps comment on stuff <33 much love, enjoy!

there were so many errors bro LMAO also I added a few paragraphs to this, so pls enjoy my scuff (edited as of Feb 20)

“I’m home~,” my husband’s voice calls out from the doorway.

Wiping my hands on my apron, I greeted him coming from the kitchen, “Al! Welcome back. How was your day?”

“Same as always. It’s gotten quite dusty out, I wouldn’t recommend you and the lil’ munchkin to go out for a while. I’ll take a shower first,” he responded dusting himself off briefly by the door before removing his shoes and coat. Heading towards the bathroom past me, but not before giving me smooch on the cheek and a gentle rub on my swollen belly.

Yes. Miledy got pregnant with Alastor’s child. He slowly warmed up to the idea when he saw her babysitting the neighbor’s toddler and when they both visited an orphanage, albeit to Al’s hesitance, where he saw her dote on the children, as she was also a kid that grew up in an orphanage feeling great empathy towards them. If Alastor didn’t stop her, she would have adopted all of them. At the end of the day, he concluded that you would be the best mom possible out there and gave her wish. Making him very sentimental and missing his late mother, which she often comforted him about.

I sighed happily and rubbed my stomach. I stared at the cradle with much longing, I couldn't wait to see our baby. Above the cradle was a mobile, it was a string of ornaments that were meant to be a toy for them, it was decorated with shells, dolphins, rabbits and a deer—as requested by Al.

I picked up a music box that had our favorite music. Alastor had this requested as a gift for your child, I was surprised when he presented it to me. I didn't think he'd be attached to them as much as I was, but I guess he adores them in his own way. Making a family does make it seem more real.

It makes me think back all those lives we've taken just to protect our family. I wonder if those people had family too? Did they look for them?

I was pulled from my thoughts when Alastor stood beside me, gazing at the cradle as I was.

“And how have the two of you been, my love,” Alastor asked, his hair still wet and changed clothes.

The both of us walked towards the couch, him making me sit on his lap as always after work, where he would rub my stomach and lower back, and even sometimes my chest whenever they get too heavy.

“Been kicking and moving around so much lately. I’m so sore all over,” I moaned as I leaned my back on his chest, letting him massage my lower back.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give them a good talking to,” he joked poking around my stomach.

Giggling and squirming in his hold I cried, feeling fluttery inside when the baby kicked in response, “Al, that tickles! Haha!”

“What?~ I’m just disciplining our child,” he explains himself in a light tone.

“You’re such a loser,” I rolled my eyes playfully at him.

“Oh, please,” he scoffs, “I’m anything but a loser. Have you seen my wife? The most sought out singer in all of Louisiana? You must have heard of her surely.”

“I have indeed,” I giggled, “but I heard she unfortunately got knocked up by some random radio broadcast guy that does his shows in a basement.”

Alastor gasps dramatically clutching his hand over his chest and exclaims, “You did not! One, I own a studio in the city where I do my shows, thank you very much. Two, how dare you say unfortunately, I’m the most highly paid broadcaster. Any person would drop on their knees to even get to be in the same room as me.”

I chuckled at his haughtiness and conceded lying on his chest once more, “You’re right, you’re right, your royal highness.”

He lets out a hum similar to a purr contently embracing us.

(3 years later)

“Abigail!”

A little squeal sounded down the halls along with little pitter patters of her tiny feet as she tried to get away from me.

“Come here, Sunshine. You need to get changed. Don’t you wanna go and see Dad?” I asked her walking to her slowly.

She excitedly jumps from behind the couch and yells, “Dad! Dad! I wan’ta see Dad!”

“Alright, alright. Come’re,” I called her to come closer to put on her little yellow sundress. I took my bag that had all our necessities while Abby tried to put on her shoes that she immediately showed off when she did it all by herself.

“Well done, Abby! Dad will be happy that you can put on your shoes by yourself now. Do you want to tell him yourself?” I asked putting on her hat.

“Mhm! I’ll tell him myself!” she answered cheerfully holding my hand after I shut the door and locked it.

“Alright then. You ready?” I asked her again with a doting smile.

“Yes! Let’s go meet up with Dad!” she replied excitedly trying to drag me with her.

After we arrived at his studio, we went to his office and waited for him to finish with his morning show so we could take Abby to the park and eat at a restaurant for lunch after. She was on the floor playing with her toy doll and stuffed bunny, playing pretend by herself.

“Hello there, darlings,” Alastor greeted with a smile. Arms already open for his daughter to dive in.

“Dad!” She yelled excitedly jumping into his arms, “Are you done with work?”

“Yup. You excited to go to the park today?” he asked booping her nose playfully.

She laughed delightedly making both Al and I’s hearts to melt.

“Yeah! I wanna go now please!” she requested politely hugging her father’s neck.

“Okay, Sunshine,” he replied petting her back.

Hand in hand, the three of us spent the day together happily on our family outing. Of course, it couldn’t be helped that we would be stopped a few times, but we immediately excused ourselves from them to enjoy as much time as we could while we were together, not letting all the disturbances get in the way for our plans today.

Reaching home with a tired Abigail in my arms. Alastor carried all our bags and toys that we bought for our daughter along with a balloon with a smiley face on it tied around his wrist. As he was opening the door for us, he stopped suddenly, making me look up to him alert.

I clutched Abby closer getting ready to run. Alastor fully opened the door and dodged a swing from a brass knuckle to his head.

“Run!” he yelled as he fended off the intruder from getting to us. Abigail waking up from the shout of his father, she trembled in fear as she saw him fight another man.

“Mom? What going on?” she asked, confused and afraid grip tightening around me.

“Shh, I’m sorry but mom’s gonna ask you to stay quiet, okay? Just-just close your eyes, honey.” I requested seriously making her tuck her head in my neck.

I ran as fast I could, reaching our other house that was used for emergencies. We entered together and pushed her inside a bunker in the bedroom.

“Baby, you need to listen to me. I need you to be quiet for me, okay? No matter what, don’t open this door if it isn’t me or Dad, got it?” I ordered her with a serious face making her nod despite being afraid out of her skin. I swiped the tears under her eyes and gave a kiss on her forehead saying, “I love you so much, Abby.”

I left her after locking the door and pushed the vanity on top of the door. Holding my gun close to me and creeping my way out the bedroom to check for any of followers, as I was rounding a corner someone tugged at my hair making me throw my head back.

I whacked him with my gun up on his chin making him back up from me, taking this opportunity to shoot him in the chest twice. I aimed my gun to the window when I saw a sliver of light catch the corner of my eye, shooting when he jumps in through the window stopping him from letting him move further in.

I turned my gun to the door when I heard it open, only to feel relieved when I saw the familiar tuft of brown hair styled in a certain way that I could immediately recognize. I run towards him for an embrace that he returned.

“Where’s Abby?” he asked looking around the room.

“She’s in the bunker. Did anyone follow you?” I asked placing my hands back to my sides.

“None. I had 4 people outside, you?” he said rushing into the room making sure Abby’s safe.

“Just 2,” I sighed rubbing my face frustratedly. “I’m sorry. It must’ve been Alex’s men. They’re getting pretty fucking desperate if they’re attacking from our house,” I snarled.

“It’s fine, darling. That’s why we prepared this to make sure Abby stays safe,” he said assuring me, and giving me a quick peck on the head. Then helping him push the vanity off the door and took our daughter out.

“Let’s stay in the cabin for a while, we aren’t safe here,” Alastor suggested which I agreed to.

Morning come; Abby woke up confused, she then realized she was in her father’s cabin seeing his prized hunting gun on wall. Her eyes scanned the room for her parents and found none of them there, so she slowly opened the door and was greeted by the smell of cooked meat. She found her father in the kitchen cleaning while you were knitting on the sofa. Hearing the door creak, both the adults turned their heads to their daughter’s little round head.

“Good morning, Sunshine~,” Alastor greeted waving his spatula.

I got off the sofa, leaving my knitting materials and scooped her up into my arms, “Hello, bunny. Did you have a good sleep? It’s already 10pm.”

“Mhmm, but I had a bad dream. Mom and Dad where fighting some bad guys and I was so scared that you got hurt,” she mumbled making my face ridden with guilt.

I never wanted my baby to experience this, I never knew that Alex’s obsession would ever get this deep.

To briefly explain what happened over the years, I sang in a private bar where some very important people were having a meeting. Unfortunately for me, one of people there was interested in me. So, I explained to him that I had a husband, but he refused to leave me alone until Alastor came with the owner of the establishment to diffuse the situation. However, it didn’t stop there, he insistently showered me with gifts and letters that I had to refuse each time. I confronted him saying that I would never be with him as long as I lived, so in retaliation his obsession turned sinister, believing that if he couldn't have me then I was better off dead.

Alastor, fueled with irritation, confronted him almost successfully killing him in the process if it weren’t for Alex’s group to look for him and warded Al off. And to this day he’s eager to hurt our family.

“I’m sorry, honey,” I replied eyebrows furrowed kissing her head, “it’s just a bad dream don’t be scared.”

“Exactly, nothing to be worried about. Why don’t you have some breakfast first? Breakfast is indeed the most important meal of the day, Sunshine,” Alastor spoke up after setting the plates, taking Abby into his arms, and placing her on her chair.

At the end of the day, when Abby passes out from exhaustion from playing in the meadow all day. Alastor takes his gun off the wall making me stand up in worry.

“Where are you going?” I asked, holding his arm.

“To finish this once and for all. I don’t want Abby to be in danger anymore. Most of all, I don’t want you to live in fear that we’re going to lose Abby, neither do I,” he reason placing his hand on your cheek.

“Just please... please be careful, Al,” I pleaded him covering his hand over mine.

He gave me a smug smile and replied, “I’ve never lost before, darling. I’ll be back before sunrise. I promise.”

I nodded as he gave me a kiss, as much as I was worried about him, I knew Al could take care of himself.

“Stay safe,” I said staying by the door frame while he waves goodbye, painfully unaware how devasted I would be when he never returned the following day.

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[brunboel16]

Burberry Belts Males's Belts

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[oswlld]

CREATORHUB SUMMER EVENT 2021 ✨ DAY 5 : TYPOGRAPHY

↳ “Forever is composed of nows.” - Emily Dickinson

#creatorhubevent21 #typography #typographyedit #typo #typoedit #dailytypographyedits #emily dickinson #litedit #quotes #words #i have a love hate relationship with this edit #so scuff but been meaning to do this edit for a while

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Completely 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: On to part three. Sorry for being a human disaster.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

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

Chapter 3: Or it will move right through me

💀💀💀

Jerome annoyed you as he picked through your tool box and clicked the ratchet noisily. He was excited but impatient and complained that you were taking so long. You told him if he wanted to pay out of pocket for labour, you could finish faster. 

You sat by his bike, parts strewn at your feet, and bent your head to look under the tank. You still had a lot to go and hadn’t yet added anymore of the gross chrome to the frame.

“Do you realise how filthy this is gonna get?” you huffed as you sat up and leaned your elbows on your legs, “not to mention how ridiculous it looks.”

“I like it. It’s just my style,” your brother grinned, “I don’t remember you spending this much time on Bucky’s ride and you and him--”

“He had me replace the tailpipe, you want nothing short of a rebuild,” you scoffed, “and you’re not the boss.”

“Don’t remind me,” he rolled his eyes, “guess it could be worse though. It could be Steve.”

“Thank god it’s not,” you chuckled, “I don’t know how many women had to toss beer in his face before he latched onto that mousy one at the bakery.”

“She’s nice,” Jerome shrugged, “far as I know. She doesn’t talk to anyone but Steve.”

“I wonder why,” you tisked, “he has insecurity written across his forehead.”

The tinny bell rang and the door whooshed open as the wind caught it. Jerome glanced over and dropped the ratchet noisily into the drawer of the tool box. You growled in warning as you spent much of your spare cash on those. He apologised quietly as he squared his shoulders at the man who appeared.

“Hey,” Bucky wiped the flakes from his hair and blew out a shiver.

“Bucky,” Jerome said rigidly.

The other man nodded and stepped further inside the garage. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced aimlessly around the concrete floor. You watched him as you fiddled with the bolt in your hand.

“You wanna head down to the bar?” It wasn’t a question as Bucky came to face you, “I gotta talk to your sister.”

“Sure,” Jerome replied sharply, “you got it, boss.”

Bucky grumbled and waited for him to leave. He sniffed and kicked his toe into the floor.

“So… what’re you doing here? Been a while so must be urgent,” you sat up on the rolling stool and stretched your back.

“The whole town’s talking about it. You fighting him,” his brows drew together, “I told you I’d take care of him.”

“You didn’t,” you said evenly, “so I did.”

“I talked to him--”

“And said what?” you snorted.

“Look, you don’t understand. You said it yourself, you don’t care about my business. You don’t get what’s going on but what I need from him is bigger than your temper.”

“Excuse me? This is my fault? He broke into my shop, he followed me from that diner and he put his hands on me,” you stood and tossed the bolt away, “what do you want me to do, Buck?”

“First, I want you to remind yourself who I am. We’re not fucking anymore so that mouth isn’t as cute,” he warned, “and I want you to play nice.”

“All you have to do is keep him away from me. How hard is that for a man like you, huh? You’re the big dog.”

“Watch it,” he pointed at you, “I won’t tell you again.”

“He’s here to deal with you, not me,” you insisted, “he grabbed me, I defended myself, and I’ll do it again.”

“This isn’t grade school anymore, you can’t fight the boys,” he sighed.

“What are you saying?”

He was silent as his jaw ticked and his blue eyes strayed to the ceiling. You stepped closer and gripped your hips as you stared him down.

“There’s nothing else I can do for you. Nothing else I will do. He’s your problem.”

He met your glare and you scoffed in disgust, “you’re fucking serious? What do these idiots have on you?”

“It’s not what they have on me, it’s what I want from them. I’m planning for something bigger than Birch, that means there’s gonna be some sacrifices,” he shrugged.

“Sacrifices? Is that what you call it? Well, here’s one for you, the next time you get a little scuff on your tank or your headlight starts to flicker, you can head down to Carl’s,” you scowled.

“Don’t do this,” he gritted through his teeth.

“I can get business without you. I do better work than Carl, you know that. So go, I’ll deal with that asshole on my own, how I see fit.”

He inhaled and lifted his chin. He closed his eyes and thought. 

“Damn it,” he swore, “you can’t make anything fucking easy. What is it with you women and your god damn--” he lifted his hand and stopped himself, “you get in the way of my business, and you won’t be so worried about Loki.”

“Oh yeah? That’s what he said about you,” you mocked, “what’s with you men and your egos?”

His lip curled and he breathed through his teeth. His eyes lit up and he punched his palm as he turned away quickly.

“I hope he has his fun with you. Maybe he can fuck some sense into you,” Bucky growled, “God knows I tried.”

“You weren’t that good,” you snipped.

He kicked the shelf of wipers hung near the front of the shop and grunted. He stormed to the doorway and stopped to look back at you.

“You’ll be wishing it was me…” he hissed.

He waved you off and continued through the front door, slamming it behind him loudly. You stared at the scattered packages of wipers and bit down on your tongue. You wanted to run out and strangle that idiot but you knew how he could be. It was the reason you broke off your little fling; he was too much like you. Hard-headed and volatile.

💀

You weren’t going to change just because the town was overrun by asshole men. You were standing your ground and that meant you were going to finish your club sandwich and enjoy one lunch without interruption. 

The café was busier that day as the snowfall dwindled and the streets were mostly cleared as the plows made their regular rounds. You looked through the window as the school kids stopped by the bakery for hot drinks on their lunch and circled the rim of your mug with your fingertip. You sensed it was only the lull before the storm.

Further down you could see the corner of The Asp and heard a rumbling engine. Your shop remained empty except for Jerome’s bike. Since Bucky’s visit, you were too worked up to concentrate anyway. You wanted to take your wrench and knock every man in town in the head with it.

Nora brought your sandwich as Kimmie didn’t work on the weekends and your side of soup. You would eat both and leave satisfied. You wouldn’t let anyone ruin your day off. Well, not that you had very much to do aside from that.

You dipped your crusts in the tomato soup and stared at the seat across from you. Empty. Perfect.

You scooped the last of the bowl into your mouth and wiped your lips with the napkin. You stood and gulped up your coffee. You left money on the table and headed out. A peaceful, solitary lunch all to yourself.

You skipped the shop and continued down the street. You pushed into the hobby shop you rarely ventured into, more a bookshop if you were honest. You greeted the man at the counter with a smile. When you were a girl, you remembered he ordered you a special set of paints as the ones in his store were all dried up. Lu, you recalled his name.

You went to the shelves of models and looked over the new arrivals. You took the Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am off the shelf and smirked. Your father had one just like it when you were a kid. It wasn’t exactly new. You grabbed a bottle of black paint with it, always running low on the stuff, and headed for the counter.

Lu punched the buttons on his till and you heard a creak. Light footsteps emerged from the basement of used books as you opened your wallet.

“I didn’t take you as bookish,” Loki’s voice made you cringe.

You didn’t answer and counted out the bills for your purchase, “actually, you got any glue? I didn’t see any on the shelf.”

“Hmm, oh,” Lu turned and bent to reach into a box, “haven’t stocked up but these came in just before the storm.”

He added the orange and white tube to your bag and you added another bill. He counted out your change and handed it to you.

“Quite interesting what small towns can hide,” Loki didn’t wait to step up to counter and stood close, his sleeve against yours, “An antique edition of Whitman. One of the only Americans I read.”

You looked down at the worn tome, the edges fraying and the letters faded. It was marked up to a couple hundred. You could appreciate a love for reading but you weren’t entirely sure some old paper was worth all that.

“I’ll need the reading material as my visit has been prolonged,” he mused as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, “my brother is due to return so I will stay in his place… get to know the town of Birch more intimately.”

You hid your disgust at his words and continued out the door. His exaggerated tones stuck in your head as you passed the window and absently swung your bag. You hated him. You really did. You should have bashed him over the head with that dumb book. 

You thought of that day in the snow and smiled. You knew that shame lingered in him. You would have no problem repeating that scene.

You came up to your shop and stopped short. The burly redhead who arrived with the pestilent man stood at your door, peering in through the window, angling his head as he tried to see around the blinds. You cleared your throat as you neared.

“Something I can help you with?” you asked dully.

“Oh, ah,” he turned and laughed at himself, “I thought… Loki, I thought he’d be here.”

“No. He wouldn’t be,” you said, “he’s down at the book shop.”

“Thanks. He apologise?” He prodded.

“You seem to know him well. You think he did?” you challenged.

“Ah, nah,” he smiled awkwardly, “s’pose he didn’t.”

“S’pose he didn’t,” you echoed, “it would be smart if you kept him away from here.”

“Yeah, uh, should do,” he sidled past you and you listened to his heavy boots clump along the beaten snow.

You took out your key and unlocked the door. You closed it quickly behind you, that man’s presence set you on edge. He hadn’t shown any of the venom of his associate but he was loyal to him. You double checked the locks on all the doors and made certain all windows were closed. 

You went up stairs into your apartment and stripped off your coat and boots. You sat at the small table where you ate those dinners you didn’t forget and unpacked your new model. You sorted the pieces and spread out the instructions. The image of the car on the box brought back nostalgic memories. You wouldn’t know all you did about bikes if it wasn’t for your dad. You missed him every day for the last… too many years.

You lost yourself in the tiny parts. You hunched over the table and carefully dabbed glue onto the plastic. Your eyes began to itch as the windows dimmed and you got up to turn on the lamp. You kept building well after dark and finally left the half-finished car on the table.

You stretched out your limbs as you stripped down to only your loose tee and yawned. You fell into bed and turned on the old tube television. You hit play on the VCR and the loud previews blared from the boxy speakers. You rolled yourself in your comforter and sat through the same movie trailers you’d watched a dozen times.

You were never a romantic but you the movie was another shadow of your childhood. Your grandma used to watch Kathleen Turner whenever you went to her place. She would serve you yogurt and berries and turn on the cheesy action flick and if you slept over, she would put in the sequel right after.

Your rituals kept you sane. You found it was easier to know what to expect and given your temper, it was better not to be surprised. You were always the trouble child and you regretted all those times your dad had to come talk to the principal or walk you home from school. You promised him you would be better.

Still you didn’t regret what you did. He always told you to stand up for yourself. Hell, he taught you how to throw a punch and all your best insults were inherited from him. You smiled as you thought of him and hugged your pillow as the intro played and the credits flicked up one name at a time.

You drifted off in the glow of the television and the sound effects sank into your dreams. You were still in Birch but thick vines had grown around all the buildings and billowing leaves shrouded the skies. The town had turned to jungle and you could hear the growls and grunts of beasts unseen.

You spun as a twig snapped and a snake uncoiled from a branch and fell into the brush at your feet. You stepped back and it slithered towards you. You stumbled and ran away as you could hear its skin smoothly glide through the grass at your feet. You tripped as its long body wrapped around your ankles and you crashed to the ground.

You struggled as the snake constricted your body and wound its neck around to face you. Its green eyes shone as its black scales gleamed. Its tongue flicked against your cheek and you felt its hot breath as it opened its mouth and revealed long, frightening fangs. You screamed as its bite loomed and you woke with a start.

The visions of the wild jungle faded but the heat did not. You blinked as an amber haze took over the room and you fought through your messy blankets and tumbled onto the floor. Your curtains were alight along with much of the wall. You bachelor was blazing with orange flames and you could barely see the door through the smoke.

You coughed and scrambled to your feet. Your eyes streamed and you blindly ran for the door and flew down the stairs. The shop was almost entirely engulfed as you reached the lower landing and you fumbled with the front door as flames licked closer and closer.

You burst out into the frozen night and your feet were numbed by the ice and snow. You retreated from the burning building, your life set aflame, and turned back as you reached the sidewalk. Sirens screamed and made you wince as you crossed your arms and chattered against the cold.

“Pity,” the slither made your skin crawl, “though I suppose it is a blessing you at least saved yourself.”

You glanced at Loki as your vision blurred with the tears of realisation. Everything you had was turning to ash before you. You blinked away the droplet and sneered at him. He smirked and you knew. He smirked and he knew. It wasn’t an accident.

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[monstersandmaw]

Sleep paralysis demon/nightmare x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This was begun on a Twitch writing stream, with lots of input from the chat, and while I did say I would post it straight to Tumblr, I ended up adding another 3k words to it, and a tiny bit of plot, so I figured I'd put it up on Patreon first. Since Patreon supporters voted so highly for a ‘nightmare’ on the 'next monsters' poll (thank you!), I thought it should go up there first too.

Our reader has been experiencing anxiety and insomnia lately, and this draws something to us... There's a bit at the start that's got creepy vibes to it, but the creature means us no harm. Because of the sleep paralysis element, I'm going to say watch out for non-con vibes, but nothing really happens without our consent first time round. Just putting it here in case that's a major issue for anyone.

Ft. dapper mothman landlord Reggie, and gnoll best friend too.

“You’re living where now?” Francis practically barked into his whisky as you sat together after work. The gnoll’s enormous, dish-like ears flicked forwards, dark and fuzzy and full of concern. “Seriously, you do know how shitty that part of town is, right?”

“It’s not that bad,” you growled, taking a sip of your own drink and leaning back into the soft leather back of the chair. You stifled a yawn and blinked, the exhaustion of a week’s worth of broken sleep catching up to you in one brutal rush.

Francis flicked an ear and levelled you with a flat look, dark eyes serious for once. “You’re kidding…?”

“Ok, fine, it’s not amazing, but it’s really not the worst bit of town. Anyway, it’s all I can afford right now until I find a new job.” That seemed to shut him up on the subject, at least for now. He couldn't argue with your dwindling bank balance after all.

“When’s your first interview?” he asked, raising the whisky to his lips and sipping it with surprising elegance for someone with such big hands and such a powerful jaw.

Taking a deep breath, you forced the nerves down and muttered, “Monday. I’m not prepared, but at least it’s something.” You tried not to think about the inbox full of rejection letters which, in a mere two sentences and with surgical succinctness, told you that they were not hiring, nor looking to hire, nor to take on any new staff just at the moment. Thank you for your interest.

It wasn’t interest; it was sheer bloody desperation.

“You’re not going to be at all prepared if you get mugged to death on your way home tonight,” Francis grumbled.

“It’ll be fine.”

He looked at you again and took another final drink of his whisky, long tongue lapping out the remaining dregs before he set it down with a clonk on the circle-stained table. “Please text me when you get there?”

With a solemn promise to do just that, you stood and he followed you outside into the cool evening. A scuffle of dry leaves drew your attention to your right, and the fleeting shadow of a cat projected huge along a brick wall made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Francis’ concern had got you jumping at the smallest things, and as you separated from him with a warm hug and the reiterated promise that you’d be fine, you gritted your teeth and told yourself in no uncertain terms not to flinch at the slightest sound.

To be honest, the neighbourhood honestly wasn’t that bad. There had been a few break-ins, and the police had conducted a drug raid a few streets over last month, but other than that, it was mostly just… tired. Perhaps it would be the subject of the city council’s next ‘rejuvenation’ scheme, and some commerce and life could finally be injected back into this wallowing, languishing, crumbling part of town. Still, the mothman who had let you rent one of the apartments in his old, converted town house had been very pleasant when you’d met to discuss rent, and that had gone a long way towards heartening you. Without his offer, you might not have had anywhere at all.

You tried to keep that fact in mind as you passed by the closed grocery store, the lights inside low, the neon sign flickering and drawing moths to it like supplicants to a shrine. For a moment, you caught the rapid drumbeat of footsteps behind you and tensed. In under a minute, they disappeared down a side street, and you let out a shaky breath. “Get a grip,” you breathed, reaching into one pocket for your keys all the same.

After fifteen minutes of striding at a quicker pace than was cardiovascularly comfortable, the old, slightly shabby, turn-of-the-last-century building loomed out of the gathering night. At the pedestal-base of the antique, cast-iron street lamp, a narrow pool of golden light shimmered and flickered intermittently, illuminating cracks in the pavement that seemed larger and more treacherous than they had in full daylight. Your imagination conjured black, coiling shadows creeping up from those dark cracks in the earth like smoke on a stage set, and as you paused a moment beneath it to sort your keys out, a breath of wind stippled goosebumps across the nape of your neck.

Glancing once over your shoulder, half expecting to discover someone standing silently at your back, you found nothing at all out of place, swallowed, and scuttled up the uneven garden path to the main door of the converted apartments.

No sooner had you put the key in the lock than the door rattled and swung open from the other side. Reeling away in surprise, you stumbled half a pace backwards and gasped as your eyes registered nothing but blackness inside the hallway beyond. From within the swath of darkness, two points of crimson glowed, then tilted slightly to the side, and you would have shrieked, had the entity inside not murmured your name at that exact instant in his deep baritone.

“Reginald!” you practically whimpered in relief, body going slack as you encouraged your heart rate back to normal with steadying breaths, and then huffed an embarrassed laugh. “You scared me… sorry. I’m just super jumpy this evening.”

“No, no,” the mothman purred, stepping delicately out onto the path and holding the door open for you with his lower right arm. His black fur rippled and shimmered in the soft night breezes and he buzzed his wings once. The fur around his nose was beginning to turn silver, and on his hands and around his antennae too. “I apologise. I felt you coming and I should have announced myself. How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” you croaked, equilibrium mostly recovered. The cool night wafted across your clammy skin and calmed your racing heart while you stood there making polite conversation with him until you yawned conspicuously.  

“Thank you for indulging an old moth, but I shan’t keep you up any longer. You look as though you could use some sleep,” he said, inclining his head in an old-fashioned bow, antennae dipping too and making you think of a gentleman dipping his hat at you. As you headed inside, fumbling on the wall for the light switch, you heard the distant buzz of his wings, and closed the door with a soft click as Reginald took off into the night.

The decor of the main areas of the building left a bit to be desired, with the odd peeling corner and scuff on the antique dado rail, but it was clean, which had set it well apart in the list of other apartments you'd scouted in the last month or so, and as you traipsed up the stairs to your first floor flat, the boards creaked raucously beneath your feet. No one was sneaking in or out of here without making a huge racket, and that thought provided a little comfort.

The interview on Monday loomed in your mind, ticking your resting heart rate up higher than normal, but after you went through the motions before bed with a strange sense of detachment, you let the weariness building behind the anxiety creep over your limbs and draw your eyelids down. Reginald hadn’t been wrong when he’d remarked on your appearance; it had been a while since you’d slept really well. So, it was with a familiar sense of dread that you let your mind slide away into unconsciousness, praying that the nightmares that had plagued your sleeping mind would stay away that night.

With a jolt, your eyes flew open to find the room dark, the street lamp outside extinguished, and a familiar sense of crushing dread weighing on your chest. Lying there, motionless, you breathed slowly, trying to figure out what had woken you so suddenly. Nothing stirred, and as you strained your ears, you caught no whisper of autumn leaves in the reaching branches of the walnut tree outside.

No sooner had you closed your eyes again, hoping to slide back into dreamless sleep, something touched your hair with a spider-light touch and you tried to scream and flail. Finding yourself utterly unable to move, you could only lie there as adrenaline flooded your whole body, your throat went dry, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, and the sensation returned, stronger now.

Pinprick sharp claws - like a cat’s but much, much larger - raked through your hair, softly stroking your scalp, and you felt a silent scream tear itself from your chest. Something was there in the dark with you and you couldn’t move a muscle.

A shadow in the blackness of the room, a darker blur than the rest of the inky room, shifted along your bed from behind you in a coiling tendril, unfurling across the sheets and over your body like the root of a plant or the limb of an octopus, and your blood began to hammer in your ears. All you could do was lie there and gasp for breath.

Claws, long and glistening and dripping with darkness, scraped almost gently down your temple and as the entity moved into your limited field of vision, you felt another soundless yell rip itself from you. An involuntary trembling began in your limbs as a dark, black, skull-like face loomed over you, a wide maw stretching open to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth.

You were going to die. If this was a nightmare, you’d probably be found a few days later, dead of a heart attack, and if it were real… gods above - the thought of being mugged was abruptly shunted to the bottom of your list of things to fear in this neighbourhood. The last thing you’d said to Francis was ‘I’ll be fine.’

The creature opened its mouth wider and wider as if trying to draw out your soul from your body, teeth glistening, breath completely silent, leaning in close to your face. It looked veiled, somehow, as if a wet, gauzy material had been draped over a skeletal form, which then stuck to the emaciated body beneath. With a jolt, you realised it looked like a shrouded corpse, wrapped in black fabric. The ragged shreds of material that floated eerily, slowly, as if the creature were underwater and the wisps were nothing more than kelp, and the tips constantly dissolved into fine smoke that curled lazily around the figure.

Was this Death itself?

Please… you begged silently. Please… I don’t want to die.

To your surprise, the creature tilted its terrifying head to one side in a motion that reminded you of a cat; as though it was curious.

Oh please don’t be something that toys with your prey first…

Fractionally, the entity drew back a fraction, though its four-inch long, sickle-claws remained at the side of your face. As you stared at it, wide eyed and sweating with fear, you got the fleeting impression of an emaciated torso and two equally skeletal arms beneath the floating veil.

In a moment of oddly detached clarity, you wondered if it could understand you.

It nodded.

The fuck?

That grin stretched wider. It had teeth like an angler fish, and the moment you thought that, all you could imagine was it lunging for you out of the darkness like a sprung trap, teeth sinking in, blood pouring, ending in nothing but pain and fear…

The creature nudged its clawed hand against your lips, and for a horrible moment you thought it was going to slice open the skin of your mouth, but instead, like anaesthetic wearing off, your lips began to tingle. You could move them again. Swallowing, you rasped, “Can… you understand me?”

Again, the entity nodded and retreated a little further from the bed. Like an aura of shifting mist around it, the darkness of the room rippled and moved, and you realised it really was floating beside your bed, one hand tethered to the headboard, the other near your shoulder.

“Can you speak?”

The creature paused, going still, and the air in the room thrummed with a sudden tension. Your lungs squeezed and your ribs creaked under the pressure of it.

Eventually the strain on the atmosphere snapped, and a rasping, polyphonous voice from somewhere to your right hissed, “Yes.”

Stunned, you could only lie there as it remained beside you, suspended and shifting like waterweed in a lazy current.

“What do you want?” you managed to croak. You still couldn’t move anything else but your eyes and your mouth. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Again, the air seemed to vibrate, and a chill ran through you.

“Is that you?” you asked. “Are you doing that?”

This time it took longer for the creature to make a sound, but it nodded slowly first. Its claws returned to your body and you gasped as the muscles unlocked and you found you were able to move again. Scrabbling to sit up, you blinked, and the creature twitched, lurching backwards away from you like a skittish horse.

“You can’t be… You’re afraid of me?” you blurted, almost laughing. It didn’t seem like it wanted to hurt you or scare you any more, but the surreal vision beside your bed was enough to keep your heart pounding. “Are you Death?”

Its wide maw stretched open again, revealing its mouthful of deadly teeth, and you balked, fear leaping into your throat again as you clutched the sheets around you like a child. Those claws could slice a sheet - or a body - to ribbons, and yet you clung to them.

It reached out slowly for your ankle, latching its long fingers around the joint, and you choked out a whimpering yell. Knowing you were alone in the house, with Reginald out on his nightly business and the only other apartment in the building still unoccupied, your fear crescendoed to a peak and your words failed you.

With what appeared to be a gargantuan effort, the entity paused, then inhaled, and then chorused, “Not. Death. You… fear… me…”

No shit, you thought. “What do you want?”

“Fear… is… all I… know… Without it… I am… nothing.”

Was that sadness that tinged its many voices? Was there more than just one entity within those constantly-twisting shadows?

“Just… me,” the creature murmured, half-turning away and releasing its solid grip around your leg.

The emotion in those two words made something crack inside you. “You’re lonely…” you breathed, and the creature began to tremble, glitching like a badly aligned SCART connection.

In that instant, your fear drained out of you to be replaced by a wave of compassion, and the tension left your muscles. Whatever this was, it was alone as well.

The creature’s form continued to flicker, and as you blinked in confusion, the misty veil covering them seemed to boil off, leaving nothing but the emaciated, charred-looking skeletal figure beneath, strangely vulnerable for just a heartbeat before it seemed to evaporate away altogether.

The stillness in the room left your mind reeling as you sat there. Had you dreamed the whole thing?

Scrambling, your fingers found the light switch beside the bed, and you squinted and scowled as harsh, yellow light flooded the room at the click of a button. Nothing was out of place beyond, and no hint of creeping shadows drew your eye.

“Are you still there?” you whispered, but after waiting for what felt like hours, you got no answer.

If you returned to sleep at all that night, it would be a miracle, but still you tried. Lying in the dark a good while later, and curled on your side with your eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t help straining your hearing for the slightest hiss of claws on fabric, but nothing came, and eventually, you must have drifted off into an exhausted sleep. Remarkably, no nightmares plagued you that night, and when you woke the next morning, you felt oddly peaceful and well rested for a change.  

You stretched and yawned, and only remembered about the strange experience from the night before when the soft weave of the cotton sheet snagged across your ankle and a sharp prickle made you frown.

Upon investigation, you discovered a long, thin scratch in your skin, as if a cat had nicked you with its claws in passing.

You froze.

It had not been a dream after all.

For the next two nights, nothing unusual happened, unless you counted the fact that you actually slept well for the first time in weeks. You found it almost physically impossible to make it past midnight, whereas before you’d frequently seen midnight tick by and vanish into the past as you lay there with prickling eyes and an exhausted, restless body, anxiety tingling along your nerves, counting the minutes as time ticked closer to dawn.

Astonishingly, as you faced the interviewer on Monday morning, you felt alert and almost chipper.

The naga smiled and held out a hand to you as she wrapped the interview up. “Thank you so much for your time,” she said. “You’ll hear back from us tomorrow, most likely, but let me say now that I was extremely impressed.”

Your brows rose and she laughed kindly at your evident surprise. “Thank you,” you croaked, and left politely before you ruined anything.

That night, you lay back alone on your bed after celebrating with Francis again, spread-eagled and stared at the ceiling. The old-fashioned plaster moulding made it look like you were underwater, especially if the huge tree outside swayed in the wind and cast shifting, kaleidoscope patterns on it. A cold draft prickled over you and you shivered. “Is that you?” you asked almost hopefully, wondering if the nightmare creature was back.

Nothing.

With a huge sigh, you looked around without moving, nervous in case you spooked it. “Listen, if you’re the one that’s given me such amazing sleep lately, then… well… thank you. I think I might have got the job…”

A movement in the darkest corner of the room caught your attention, but when your gaze landed on it, all was as it should be.

“Seriously, if you’re there, please… let me know.”

Again, you experienced that strange pulling sensation, like some kind of energy was being drawn from the room, and as you sat up, your bedside lamp flickered. In front of the darker form of your dressing gown on the back of the door, something had begun manifesting into a tall, slender figure. Shrouded as before in shadow, the creature glided forwards, every bit like a nightmare, and your heart thudded.

“Afraid…” came a chanting, polyphonic voice, “And yet not…? How?”

“Have you seen yourself lately?” you hissed. “You’re kind of intimidating. What are you?”

“Nightmare…” it hissed.

You blinked. “You’re a literal nightmare?”

Its claws glinted in the half-light of your small bedside lamp as it just hung there, swaying softly like a corpse on a gallows. “Yes.”

“What are you doing here? Does Reginald know you live here?”

It turned away and you saw a ribcage jutting out like a mummy’s fragile body, though every inch of them was a soft, matte black, pock marked like volcanic stone.

It shook its head. “I found you…” it croaked in its struggling, faltering voice. “Your fear… drew me… to you.”

“You vanished when I stopped being afraid,” you said and again, the creature nodded.

“I was using your fear to… manifest. Without it… I could not stay.”

“But you’re not using my fear now, are you?” you were excited, your heart was pattering out a wild rhythm, but you weren’t afraid.

It shook its head.

“How?”

Turning towards you, it brought up one lethally clawed hand and let a tendril of wisping black smoke play through its dead-looking hand. The fingers were longer than a human’s, and tipped in those sickle claws. “You sleep… better now,” it said, as if that explained everything.

Sitting there on the bed, you frowned. “Yeah, the nightmares have gone and — wait, are you… are you feeding on other nightmares?”

Slowly, the creature nodded. “I fought one that night, for you…” it rumbled. “I won. Now… they fear me.”

“And me? Do I have to fear you?”

The nightmare shook its shrouded head, the fabric wafting slowly as it billowed around the skeletal body beneath.

“So why are you here? Why me?”

“May I… come closer?” it asked.

“So long as you’re not going to hurt me,” you said in a reedy, weak voice. “A bit closer is fine…”

Hovering, the nightmare seemed uncertain, but then made up its mind and loomed a fraction nearer. This close, the glow from your lamp gilded the empty sockets of its skull and showed the stretching maw, and while you might not have been terrified any longer, it certainly made you wary.

“Will not hurt you…” the creature snarled. “I swear it.”

“Ok, fine, but you can’t blame me for being a bit… you know… I’ve never met anything like you before, and you are technically in my apartment…”

“Should I leave?”

Probably, but you found you didn’t want that just yet. “No, not yet. Can you answer some more of my questions?”

It shrugged. “I will try. Remaining here is tiring though. I don’t have much time left.”

“Where do you go?”

“There are many realms beside yours… Nightmares exist… in the cracks between, belonging nowhere, lingering only a while…”

“Sounds lonely,” you muttered.

“It is. That is why I stayed. You… You spoke to me, even when you were afraid. I have never had that before.”

The mist moved like snakes between its fingers and you watched, half mesmerised. “Your claws… are they why I couldn’t move?”

It nodded. “Sleep paralysis causes… much fear. I’m sorry I had to… frighten you to show myself.”

You snorted and pulled your legs close to sit cross legged on the bed, staring at the hovering nightmare in your room. It was so surreal, you wondered if you’d hit your head on the way home. “You tried to reassure me at the same time as scaring me shitless didn’t you?”

It flashed its claws again and swung a close to you. “Soft,” it purred, now mere inches from your face.

This close up, you found yourself frightened again. The horror of its empty black eyes, its gaping maw full of black, pointed teeth, the coiling shadows around it, its skeletal hands with tipped with onyx scythes… and yet, they smelled like the very best of winter nights; slightly smoky with a coldness that, as you inhaled, stung the back of your throat.

“Afraid, and yet not,” it repeated.

“Can I touch you?”

The nightmare clearly had not been expecting that, but nodded. Trembling, you brought your fingertip to its cheek. The skin was cool and hard like leather, but a fine mist floated around them, and you realised that the shroud wasn’t cloth at all, but intangible and made simply of smoke and shadow. The creature shuddered and you pressed your whole palm to their face as they leaned into your touch.

A moment later, they began to flicker and let out a broken moan. “I cannot stay.”

“Come back?” you whispered.

The mouth that held the promise of death, with all those teeth, suddenly smiled and they nodded. After that, they vanished.

Another week went by, but as you faced the fears of starting a new job, and the nearer that your starting date drew, the better you slept.

“It’s you again, isn’t it?” you asked the empty, black room on the night before you started work. “Come on, come out. You’ve been trying to manifest all week. I can feel it.”

Rippling out of the darkness, the nightmare swayed towards your bed and hung in the space beside it, drifting.

“Thank you,” you smiled and stood up. The nightmare didn’t move as you walked towards it, and this time when you reached for it, the creature did anticipate it, wafting closer, apparently keen for the contact. “I actually missed you, you know?” you said as the creature’s whole body quivered.

It brought its hand up to your face in a mirror of your gesture and brushed the curved back of its claws against your cheek. It tingled but you were still able to talk.

“You can touch me,” you whispered, drawing it back towards your bed by taking its skeletal fingers in yours.

Having its permission, the nightmare raked those claws through your hair with a tenderness that left you breathless. “Let me take the fear from you…” it murmured.

Examining your feelings, you discovered a small knot of anxiety about tomorrow, and smiled. “Leave me a little bit, ok? Trust me, a bit of nerves helps.”

Nodding, it leaned close and inhaled.

Standing there beside the bed, your body ignited with what could only be described as a deep and yearning lust, and you gasped, knees going weak. The nightmare caught you as you swayed, head spinning, and laid you easily down on the bed, despite the fact that it hardly looked strong enough to withstand a slight draft.

“What…?” you gasped, core burning.

The creature looked at a loss as it hung in the space beside your bed.

“I’m assuming this has never happened to you before?” you snorted, feeling a little recovered. “How lonely do I have to be to get turned on by a literal nightmare?”

A chuffing laugh made you look back at them.

“You find that funny too?” you asked and they nodded. “Well, if I’m honest… now that I know you’re not going to hurt me, I think you’re kind of beautiful.”

A soft, broken, crooning sound escaped them and they floated nearer, hovering over your bed and extending a hand to stroke talon-tips down your cheek again. “You are beautiful,” it murmured in all its numerous, whispering voices.

“Touch me,” you breathed.

“It will paralyse you,” they snarled, leaning backwards. “I can only… control it for so long.”

“But you won’t hurt me, and it’ll wear off, right?”

They nodded.

“Then touch me… please… I… I want your touch,” and you did. In a way you’d never felt with anyone else, human or otherwise, you needed them.

Rearing closer to you, the creature hung in the air above you like a cloud. It raked its claws down your body, but instead of shearing your clothes open, they simply evaporated, reappearing on the floor nearby in a tangled, crumpled heap.

“Neat trick,” you muttered before gasping as their hands landed on your bare torso, spreading their fingers wide and inhaling again. “Magic?”

“In dreams, anything is possible. We are not bound by your laws.”

“Of course not, but you’re —” you cut off sharply as they opened their mouth and a long, black tongue slithered free and coiled around your hardening nipple. You lurched and your back arched before falling back onto the bed. A tingling spread rapidly all down your right side as their hands gripped you more strongly now.

Working steadily first down one side and then the other, the nightmare scraped its teeth over you in a hundred scratching lines that made you want to yelp and buck, but their paralysis had begun to sweep over you. Every almost-bite it chased with its soothing, teasing, paralysing tongue and fingertips until you could do nothing but tremble and twitch beneath its touch.

A voice hissed, “I will know if you want me to stop,” and you let the last of your fears slide away, giving into the intense pleasure that their mouth offered on your body.

Finally, breath heaving, you felt your release crashing towards you. Never before had you been utterly immobile like this. You wanted to thrash and buck, to squirm and writhe - the pleasure was so intense and visceral that you needed to scream, but the nightmare held you in its grasp and wrung your release from you with relentless focus. Before you could recover fully, it demanded a second orgasm hot on the heels of the first and you thought you might shear apart with the force of it.

Gasping for breath, you begged silently to be allowed to move again, and as it sat back, that long, clever tongue lapping up the last of your release, it touched you once again and your body went slack.

“Oh my god,” you panted. “I’ve never come like that…”

“Your… energy,” they whispered, touching their fingers and thumb together as if their skin was tingling too. Something cool and dark slid over your leg and you looked down to find black liquid dripping from their robes, all over your legs from where they were hovering above you.

You had to laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re switching careers to an incubus now?”

The nightmare looked at you. “It’s just you,” they said. “I want only you.”

“If you’re going to make me come like that, I think we could come to an arrangement…”

The creature grinned, showing all its deadly teeth, and you lay back and stared at the ceiling for a long time, drained and tired but deeply satisfied. You didn’t even notice yourself sliding into a blissful sleep.

When you woke with your alarm the next morning, there was no trace of the creature, but on the back of the door as you were preparing to leave, you found the words ‘good luck’ scraped into the surface of the wood.

“You’d better come back and fix that tonight,” you grumbled with a smile on your face as you spotted it. Even as you stared at it, the wood melted back into the shape it had always been before, and in its place, a simple, line-drawn heart appeared.

You snorted. “See you later,” you said as you grabbed your coat and headed out. “And… well… thank you.”

___

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[glacecakes]

Wild Hunt

Eugene isn't exactly well liked by his men, but when they want to induct him into their ranks, he's not going to complain! All he has to do is hunt down a beast that they prepared for this event specifically-

It's Varian. Eugene is accidentally hunting down Varian. Now the two have to survive the night together, while one of them is injured, against a squadron of Corona's best men.

Uh oh.

IM BACK! Kinda. Finals are due Tuesday and I wrote this instead of doing them but WHATEVER WHO CARES

This was mostly written on the Varian Hivemind server, with some lovely inputs from the folks on there, and I edited it and finished it before throwing it up here. So uh. Yea. Team Awesome my beloved

Life and Times and VVO will also be updated soon!!! I hope to have at least one if not both chapters done by the end of the month 

ANYWAY HERES 8K OF TEAM AWESOME ANGST

Being Captain of the Guards sure had its perks.

For one, he got to attend meetings with Rapunzel, finally. You'd think being the princess's future husband (probably) and Prince of the Dark Kingdom got him some recognition, but noblemen are jerks and elitists, so what can you do. Granted, the meetings were boring as all hell, but still, it felt like he was actually being respected and taken seriously. Something Rapunzel had been pushing for since the start. Personally, he wasn't all that sure he deserved it, but if she was happy, so was he.

Another was that the guards no longer gave him shit. That's not to say they did before... well, they did. Stan and Pete didn't, but every other guard called him Flynn Rider at least once or twice before begrudgingly accepting him as their teacher and now commander. He no longer had to worry about someone breathing down his back, waiting for him to slip up or commit a crime, eager to throw him back in prison.

Speaking of which...

He turned the corner to see a few guards, couldn't remember their names off the top of his head, forming a small circle around a corner. Their predatory grins barred down on whatever their target was, whichever poor soul had angered them. One of them had his hands on someone much shorter, so short he couldn't make them out beyond the red coats and gleaming gold... which could only mean it was one person.

"Don't get comfy, brat," the one hissed, pushing Varian up against the wall with an audible crack as a skull hit stone, no doubt hoisted up by a shirt collar. "One of these days the princess is gonna get sick of you, and when she does, we'll toss you back into your old cell... and we'll restart our favorite game. Ain't that a swell idea?" Varian hissed, a soft thunk of his boots scrambling for purchase against the wall.

"Hey!" Eugene snapped, having heard more than enough. "Put him down now ." His words were like fire, causing the other two to jump back and reveal the battered and bruised alchemist. His lip was split, a large scuff of dirt on his white shirt.

One of the guards snapped his head around, whacking the leader's shoulder to get his attention. The guard frowned. "Oh yea? Or what?"

Before his new position, he would've leapt into the fray, hackles raised, punching the lights out of these jerks, but now, he had a much better stance. "Or you're fired." He crossed his arms, the perfect picture of a guy in charge who knew how to keep his men in line.

Someone who was clearly not him.

The guard hummed. "You don't have the nerve." To emphasize his point, he shook Varian a little harder, the kid's toes barely scraping the floor and his hands gripping the soldier's wrists. Leather gloves creaked with how tight the pressure was.

But Eugene's glare didn't waver, hand itching for the sword at his hip, his anger radiating in waves. It was enough to get the other two to back off.

"Cmon, Aaron," one whispered. "It's not worth it."

"Yeah, it's not." Eugene agreed. "Put him down now, and I'll lighten your sentence to a week in the stables instead of a month."

Aaron's face turned sheet white, then bright red. With a huff, he dropped Varian to the ground, readjusting his gloves while Varian cried out on the floor.

"You got lucky this time, brat," he hissed.

Oh, he knew that type of speech. The Baron used it all the time. Anyone who got told that never lasted to the next month. "And all other times," he said. "Because if I see you go anywhere near him I'm taking you to the princess."

Aaron rolled his eyes, clearly uncaring, and stormed off with a huff, his buddies trailing after. No doubt they didn't like a criminal ordering them around. Or, ex-criminal. He'd have to keep an eye on them.

A sniffle broke Eugene's musings, the fog of satisfaction and annoyance quickly replaced by concern for his younger friend. Varian sat up, wincing as he did so. He rubbed his neck, feeling for any injuries and finding none except for his ruined collar. "Aw man," he mumbled.

Dad had fixed his collar for him that day, a proud smile on his face. "You need to look sharp for your first day on the job," he'd said, ruffling Varian's hair. They'd grown so much closer in the past few months, the man always seeing his son off. Today was the first day back after his kidnapping, after all; he'd spent a month recovering from a broken rib.

"It's not my first day, I've been working there for weeks," Varian had grumbled, but let him do it with a cheeky grin.

"First day of the week," Quirin rectified, placing a kiss to his baby's forehead.

A forehead now covered in dust and a bruise.

"Hey kid," Eugene offered a hand that Varian gladly took, stumbling a little as he was helped upright. "You ok? Nothing knocked outta place?"

"Just my pride," Varian joked, smile quickly fading. "I'm ok though, really. I'm used to it." He shrugged, hugging himself for comfort. Maybe he could pretend dad was here, hugging him... he always had the best hugs. Even when Varian was little, before they drifted apart. Back when he was just the weird magic kid. Back when his biggest worries were some older kids picking on him... Dad would always scoop him up into a big hug with flowery words and a book of Flynn Rider.

A warm hand wrapped around him, pulling him into a red chest. Eugene took his other hand to ruffle Varian's hair, earning a squawk of complaint.

"Just because you're used to it doesn't mean it's ok, you know that, right?" Silence followed. Gosh, this kid... say what you want about being an orphan, at least everyone around you was on the same boat. No place for bullies, nothing to bully about, when everyone was doing just as badly. "If they ever give you more trouble, you come to me, yeah?"

"Huh?" Confused blue eyes met warm brown.

Eugene smirked. "You say the words and I boot them out of the castle, goggles. Team Awesome looks out for each other."

"Oh," Varian mumbled, dazed. He'd never had a protector, never had anyone looking out for him. Cold sneers and flowery words, manipulation and secrets and ulterior motives, sure. His chest fluttered, a laugh escaping.

But then... the anxiety returned full force, maybe even stronger.

If those guys got fired because of him, good god, he could only imagine the fallout. Well, that's not true. He absolutely could. One time in prison a guard got fired for beating a cellmate within an inch of his life, and though the guy lived, the second he was out of prison he got jumped, or so the story goes. In all honesty it was probably an embellished truth, stretched out to frighten prisoners into silence, but god damn if it didn't work. No one ever complained about their beatings. A peep was all that was needed to spend a night in the infirmary for even worse injuries.

"No, no, it's fine," Varian flicked his wrist. The dial on his hand spun with each flick, the ticking grating. "Besides, we have work to do!"

"Oh, yea!" Eugene gasped. Right! The whole reason he came out to this part of the castle was to look for Varian specifically, after all.

"So, right, maintenance stuff." Varian waved his hand, motioning for Eugene to follow. "Here's what I had in mind..."

-

It was a week later, late at night, when Aaron approached him. The moon lay low in the sky, just bright enough to allow for vision without torchlight, but not bright enough that anything beyond shapes were clear. True to his word, the guard had been stationed on stable duty for the past several days, coming back to the barracks covered in dirt and angry every time.

So maybe Eugene had whispered to Max about him. Big deal.

Anyway, the captain was knee-deep in paperwork when Aaron knocked on his office door. "Sir," he said. "Finished up for the day, and I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" Eugene put his quill down hesitantly. Aaron was his first big show of power, the first punishment he'd dished. Everything else had been a variation of "keep doing what you're doing" as he settled into his new role. Who knew being in a position of power was so stressful?

(Everyone. Literally everyone.)

"I wanted to apologize for testing you, sir." The man shifted, eyes never meeting. His face was unreadable. "I wasn't sure you were going to be as..... sharp, as our previous captain. And I'm sorry for that."

"....Ok," Eugene said. "Thanks? I think?"

"So, I uh... wanted to do something for you." The man continues. "Me and a few others. It's sorta a ritual for guards. We didn’t do it before cuz of, yknow, Cassandra and stuff. And you're one of us now, so...?" He raised an eyebrow, a quiet invitation.

Oh boy.

Knowing these guys, it was probably something really stupid. Most of the guards were pretty nice, maybe a bit airheaded, but a lot of meatheads mostly. Big fans of machismo and showing their strength, boosting their ego, stuff like that. It's why none of them were fans of being run by a criminal. And no doubt Eugene would have to clean up their mess anyway, so he sighed deeply and rose from his seat. "Alright, what did you do now?"

Aaron placed a hand to his chest. "Why, sir, we did this out of the goodness of our heart! We're just welcoming you to the team!" He laughed a bit at that last part. He pointed out the door, leading his superior down the suspiciously empty barracks, and out into the courtyard.

About a dozen or so guards were outside, waiting. One of them was holding a horse's reins, and a crossbow.

"He's in!" Aaron called, and the guards all broke into cheers and raucous laughter.

"Yea, nice to see you guys too, uh. What am I... in?" Eugene asked, shifting awkwardly.

Aaron's smile widened. "It's just a fun little game, sir."

"The game is simple, really," Aaron slung an arm around Eugene's shoulder, pulling him close, not unlike how Lance does. But unlike his larger friend, this man is wiry, more of a weaselly kind of build, with stick thin arms that hide his muscle. "See, when someone new joins the guard, we test their skill by having them hunt down a beast in the nearby forest. Once they catch it, we all celebrate together! And welcome him into the ranks!" The guards all cheered, no doubt thrilled at the prospect.

"....right...." Eugene smiled uncomfortably, cheeks pulling and stretching, a puppet controlling the strings attached to his face. His stomach swirled, bouncing all over as he was passed around.

"But see, you're not just any guard, you're the Captain," Aaron's smile took an equally unpleasant demeanour. "So we figured we'd give you some extra... challenge." Outside of their little circle, no sounds could be heard. Not a peep from a cricket, or a cry from a bird, just dead silence in the surrounding glen. Just the crackle of torches, and the rustling of men.

"The beast for this occasion is small, smart, and fast. The goal is to catch it before it reaches the wall at Old Corona. All you gotta do is," he makes a noise with his mouth to emulate the crossbow. "Hit the target, and the rest of us will finish the job."

"Finish?" Eugene echoed.

The guards around him smiled with all of their teeth. "Well yea, we're not just gonna waste a perfectly good beast, are we?"

Eugene narrowed his eyes. If Rapunzel heard about this, no doubt she'd flip. "How will I know what I'm looking for? And why should I even approve of this?"

"Relax, sir," Aaron shook him, patting his chest with a heavy fist. "We're not just killing an innocent creature. It's always something that's been marked for slaughter, or is causing problems. And trust me," his voice deepened. "You'll know."

No horse was as good as Max, but that was probably for the best, what with his gut screaming about how this all felt so goddamn sketchy. "This isn't some trap where it turns out I'm the one being hunted, right? Cuz I don't want to shoot any of you with this," he joked, brandishing the crossbow.

"No, sir, not at all! In fact we'll be supporting you! No one makes the first shot until you do." He promised, patting the horse's flank. "Rest assured, no tricks here. Just a beast already marked for capture. Or recapture, in this case. We picked this one special for you."

"That sounds like it's supposed to be flattering but it really isn't."

Aaron shrugged. "Not my problem. Good luck!" With a smack to the horse, she cried out, spurring Eugene forward.

They rode through the Capital, out into Corona proper, lush with trees. At this time of night, no one would be about, not even thieves, laden in their straw beds and cots. The only things out right now are animals, or a beast, in this case. How is he supposed to know what he's looking for? What, is it going to be some giant thing with red eyes? No, Aaron said it was small, how the hell is he going to...

Then he hears it.

It's faint, almost like a windchime, but sure enough, the clanking of chains, and a small whimper. Somewhere through the trees there's a rustling, something moving. He can't make it out, the guards didn't give him a torch, but a blob of something rushes forward, the only thing he can make out the distinctive shine of metal, a chain reflecting in the moonlight.

Ah.

Eugene smirked, the rush of adrenaline from a chase beginning to pump through his veins. It'd been a while since an adventure without any stakes, without any daring challenges or risking death. The last time must've been... gosh, probably the Herz de Sonne misadventure? And even then he and Lance had just goofed off for the majority of it. Maybe the Spire? That one was much riskier but he and Rapunzel had been so outrageously drunk during that whole endeavor that it felt more like a fun jaunt.

He shook himself out of his reverie. Focus, Eugene! Fun or no, you're proving yourself to the guards! Show them that you're a worthy Captain beyond just barking orders and supporting the princess!

He spurred the horse forward, hooves thundering against the undergrowth and disturbing the leaves below. The beast let out a shriek, shrill and shaking, rushing forward. It weaved between trees, trying to throw Eugene off. Man, Aaron wasn't kidding about how fast it was. Even on horseback he couldn't keep up very well. The chains wrapped around the beast's legs screamed in complaint, clanking and clattering with each huff of its breath.

Eugene lowered the crossbow, sticking his tongue out. Steady... steady.... he fired.

The bolt whizzed through the air, lodging into a tree just a few feet away from its target. The beast flinched but didn't slow, scampering through the undergrowth, leaping over a fallen tree towards the river.

"Hyah!" He yelled, leading his horse over the log and splashing down into frigid waters. Water rushed past his horse's hooves, dulling the sound of chains, and when he looked around, the beast was gone.

Drat.

Eugene grumbled, reloading the crossbow before urging his horse onward. If this beast got away he'd never hear the end of it! They'd be all "Yes sir, Captain! We'll catch that criminal! As soon as you catch that beast!" And then they'd laugh and he'd moan and he'd have to go catch the criminal himself which is honestly not too far off from how it is already-

Anyway.

It took a few minutes to find it again, the beast trying to muffle it's movements by shuffling, but the metal song was too alluring to ignore. There was no time to waste. With the horse at a fast trot, quieter and steadier, he fired the bolt, this time getting much closer, barely whizzing past the silhouette and lodging into a tree trunk with a chunk of hair.

The creature cried out again, beginning to run and renew this dance of cat and mouse, but Eugene wouldn't have it. Dexterous fingers clasped a new bolt and quickly reloaded, giving barely a few seconds for the creature to try and run before firing again.

He didn't miss.

It was almost silent, the bolt's descent. Its tip gleamed in the moonlight alongside the chains keeping his prey in place, the one thing that slowed it and gave Eugene the upper hand. Whatever this beast was was quick, too quick, and if he lost it again, no doubt he'd never find it again. So when he aimed, he aimed down, and sure enough, the bolt embedded itself into the beast's calf, sending into stumbling.

It shrieked, screamed and sobbed in agony, noises bordering on almost human-like as it thrashed on the floor. The arrow stuck straight up, bright color on the end almost a beacon for the beast's location. Poor thing. He really should've just aimed for the head and put it out of its mercy, but this was the only way to ensure a clean shot.

Eugene slid off his horse, crouching low to the ground as he readied the final blow. But as he got nearer, as the moon hung lower in the sky, providing light through the filtering trees. He hesitated.

The beast was crawling, still trying to run, front legs pawing at the forest floor and clenching the leaves beneath with hands.

Hands...?

Eugene's stomach sank, lower and lower with each passing step, heart climbing higher and higher in his throat, the closer he got, the more ill he felt.

He saw the chains first. No, not chains like that on a cattle’s neck. Prison shackles, the kind wrapped around a prisoner's legs. And they were wrapped around legs, keeping strides from being too large.

And their torso.... clothed torso..... The beast heaved, each breath causing it to rise and fall with rapid panic.

The Captain's hands brushed against the tree with his other bolt embedded in it, eyes trailing onto it, and he froze.

Blue hair, stabbed by the bolt.

"No," he breathed. "No no no no no..." His boots picked up the pace, speed walking over to his catch, to his victim. Please, for the love of god, let him be wrong. Let this be a cruel prank, just a bear or deer dressed up to fool him... don't let it be...!

The creature heard him approach and sobbed, flipping itself over on shaking hands to get a better look at its assailant.

There, lightened by the moonlight, chest heaving, tears streaming down his face and blood oozing from his leg, was Varian.

"Varian....?" Eugene whispered, tears of his own budding when his friend whimpered, scooting back and away. With each step forward Varian scrambled back until his back hit a tree, at which point he curled into a ball. Like a frightened animal. Like a cornered beast.

Oh god... this whole time, he thought it was just one of the farm animals marked for slaughter, or a meddlesome woodland critter... he thought it was an animal destined for someone's table, so why not the guards'? Why on Earth did he agree to this? Was he so desperate for approval from his peers that he would simply shrug off the ringing alarm bells, put aside his gut instinct, and dive in blindly?

Yes, his mind whispered. You would, and you did.

"Hey, buddy," He leaned down, inching closer. "Varian, goggles, it's me. It's Team Awesome." His hand shook as he reached forward, but Varian flinched violently, causing his leg to spasm. The boy hiccuped, a hand clamping over his mouth to stifle his sobs. A small mercy came from the shadows of the night, with it too dark for details, Varian wouldn't see the blood rapidly soaking his pants.

The crossbow glinted, a sharp refraction bouncing off frightened blue eyes and causing him to wince. Eugene tossed the weapon away like it burned him.

"It's me, it's Eugene," he reassured, scooting closer bit by bit. "I'm here to help. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You did," Varian gasped, whole form shaking. "You did."

And that really was the crux of it, wasn't it? At the center of Eugene's self loathing was the spiral of guilt that you shot him, you shot the kid. He trusted you, and you shot him.

"I know," he rasped, trying to keep his voice level. "I did. I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." Varian sobbed, unfurling slightly if only to reach out for comfort. Even if this was the man who hurt him, who hunted him on horse and acted as the boogeyman straight out of nightmares, he was also Eugene, his friend, the one who stood up for him against Cass and Aaron, held his hand and promised he'd be there if Varian ever needed it. And god did he need him now.

Shaking, gloved hands connected in the middle, Eugene's grip gentle but grounding, a careful smile on his face. "That's it, bud. You're safe."

“Aw, ain’t that cute?”

Faster than a bullet, the smaller hand retracted, Varian’s eyes wide and horror-struck. In his attempt to comfort the boy, Eugene had let his guard down. He’d forgotten the final rule of the game.

No one moves until you make the first shot.

They were surrounded.

Aaron swaggered up to the duo with a grin, torch in hand. It flickered and sputtered, illuminating his blinding white grin amidst the darkness. The other guards formed a circle around them. Every other man carried a torch, while the rest had a weapon or tool or rope.

“The Captain has captured the beast! And in remarkable time, too.” Aaron simpered, waltzing up and gripping Varian’s cheeks in his hand. The boy snarled, teeth grit as he stared up at his bully.

From behind them came Aaron’s two buddies, the guards from before, each one wrapping an arm around Eugene’s shoulder, hauling him up and away.

For a moment, Eugene's insides were pure ice, frozen in time, unable to react despite the screaming in his mind as the puzzle pieces failed to connect. They jumbled and sloshed in his mind, the picture only half complete and the rest of the pieces strewn atop, obscuring the image from his view.

"Eugene...?" Varian whispered, thawing him.

"What have you done!?" He bellowed, anger hardening his voice. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?" He strained against the guards.

"Just as we told you, sir!" Aaron mocked, forcing Varian to meet the Captain's gaze. "We captured a beast for you to hunt down! And now that you have," The grin was razor sharp, shark's fangs practically drenched in blood. "We'll dispose of it properly."

A guard from the circle threw a rope, the ends tied into a loop. Like a ring toss, the aim was true, ensnaring Varian's wrist and tightening when he pulled. Another guard followed suit, yanking the boy back and forth till his arms were spread eagle and unable to move.

Varian turned a stark white, paler than the moon that neared the horizon. He cried out, straining to try and escape, but another spasm from his leg paralyzed him. “N-no, please not again…!” He sobbed. “Let me go-!”

"Again!? Varian, what do you mean? VARIAN!" Eugene yelled. "VARIAN!"

The boy screwed his eyes shut, praying for the nightmare to end.

"LET HIM GO!" Eugene strained against the guards, lamenting once again, his own stupidity. He should've brought Max, or an actual weapon, like his sword, or something! He'd gone in totally blind, expecting that the guards were decent people and that this wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. Honestly, he should've known better! After everything he's seen and done, never leave the house without a concealed weapon! You were almost executed by half these assholes!

When he gets back, he's firing everyone except Stan and Pete.

A third rope flashed through the air, this time with a loop larger than the others. It latched itself onto Varian's neck, wrapping tight and close. His eyes snapped open in pure terror, mouth opening in shock. But before the boy could protest or scream, the rope was pulled taut, and his face turned an awful shade of purple. He coughed, thrashing in place with tears of fear and hypoxia trailing his cheeks.

"Aw, the beast is scared! Doesn't he know how all animals are slaughtered?" Aaron cooed, faux sympathy marring his features. "You know, don't you? You were raised on a farm, after all." His question went unanswered, Varian too busy rasping for breath to respond.

The man with the rope pulled harder, forcing Varian's face down into the dirt where his muffled cries barely caused the leaves beneath to move. A steel boot stomped onto his head, and the cries went still.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?" Eugene bellowed, the protective instincts in his mind going haywire, overheating and exploding with pure rage and an intense need to save him, free him. He let this happen, if he had been smarter, stronger, if he hadn't shot him, hadn't let his guard down, hadn't shrugged and taken the guards' words at face value… “Oh relax, it'll be painless!” Aaron hummed, producing a knife from his belt. “The beast didn’t answer the question, but, I’m sure you can figure out how animals are killed after falling unconscious.” He jokingly slashed the dagger in the air above his throat, and Eugene saw red.

"YOU ARE SO FIRED!" He screeched at Aaron. "WHEN RAPUNZEL FINDS OUT-"

"Oh?" Aaron mocked, turning around and placing a hand to his chest daintily. "When the princess finds out? You're making her do all the heavy lifting?" He sauntered up to Eugene, hips swaying with each step till they were nose to nose. "This is your job, sir. You are in charge of keeping us in line, keeping the prisoners in their place."

"Varian is NOT a prisoner," Eugene hissed, meeting his gaze with pure fury. "He is a friend, my friend, my brother."

"Perhaps to Eugene Fitzherbert, but not a Captain of the Guard." Aaron shrugged.

Eugene lowered his head. For a brief moment, Aaron grinned victoriously. Now he's getting it.

"Too bad for you, I'm both."

Aaron's face fell, the cheerful facade falling into a brutal glower. "What does that mea-"

He was cut off when Eugene slammed his face into Aaron's, hitting the bastard's nose with a CRUNCH. He staggered back, and his buddies loosened their grip on Eugene to see if he's ok. It's all the advantage Eugene needed, quickly pushing them both off him and charging Aaron. His shoulder bowled into Aaron, sending him sprawling, and Eugene only stopped to grab the dagger he dropped before sprinting for Varian's crumpled form.

"Oh sun, please be ok, come on kid," Eugene chanted, slashing the rope around his neck. It leaves a brutal ring of red around his neck, as do the ones around his wrist when they're dispatched. There was no time to remove the chains, what with the remaining guards quickly regaining their senses and gearing up for a fight.

He lifted Varian up into his arms as if he were made of glass. Dark black hair lolled against the Captain's chest as he stood to his full height, glaring down at his employees, the hazers, the conspirators.

There was no hope of taking them all on, that much was clear. Charging into battle with hands full and armed only with a knife was stupid. He'd have to outrun them, play the game, and make it to Old Corona where Quirin could protect his son and he could get actual backup from loyal men.

Perhaps this was the true game, the true test of his worthiness.

Aaron snarled, staggering up while clutching his nose. "GET HIM!"

Eugene crouched, letting the first guard try and charge him before jumping out of the way at the last second. This he was used to, dodging men who wanted nothing more than to hurt and destroy what he held dear, making a run for it to the relative safety of the familiar. He fell into the old routine without too much difficulty, leaping over heads and ducking under blows. It helped that Varian barely weighed more than a few grapes, still a stick from his year in prison. He and the others had been hard at work trying to help him gain at the very least some muscle, though Varian was a big fan of skipping meals for science.

According to Quirin he's had that habit for a while, and right now it was a minor blessing.

Huh, he thought to himself as he dodged a crossbow bolt, taking off into the trees. Captain of the Guard isn't all that off from my usual life, just with some added benefits. Another arrow nearly took off his ear. Yea, same old stuff.

His feet pounded against the forest floor, dredging up leaves and dirt alike as he ran. There was no time to cover his tracks or be discreet, there was a whole battalion after him, so it wouldn't do much good anyway. But as his steps quickened, as Varian bounced up and down in his arms, the chains still rattling, the boy stirred, groaning in pain with each motion.

"Gene...?" He mumbled, muffled through the man’s coat.

"Hey kid," Eugene grinned down, not slowing for a second. "Glad to see you're ok. How's your throat?"

"On fire..." a weak hand pawed at his throat, rubbing the soreness away.

"Sorry about that, you're gonna be just fine, ok? It's all gonna be ok."

Varian hummed, eyes glossy and not fully there. His head fell back onto Eugene's chest, a soft smile full of love that he didn't deserve. "K. I trust you."

Varian fell back into an uneasy sleep after that, his breaths wheezing against Eugene, lips stained blue and face clammy. Anytime exhaustion tried to creep into his bones, tried to sneak into his soul and drain him to surrender, he looked down at Varian and his spirit would renew.

At some point, they were hiding behind a tree, keeping to the intense darkness. A few guards could be heard not too far off, their annoyed mutterings like an alarm bell, a siren's song of false security. Just as they passed, Varian coughed, clutching at the fabric for comfort. It was an ugly sound, weak and ragged, as if there was something coming up.

When he looked down, those blue lips were now stained red.

He picked up the pace after that.

But even he couldn't run forever, no matter how light Varian was or how determined he was. Inevitably he had to stop for water, hiding Varian behind a fallen tree and drinking from a stream whose sounds hid them from view.

He just finished his own drink when Varian stirred, and the Captain was quick to help Varian get some water of his own.

They sat by the stream for a bit, catching their breaths, Eugene from exertion, and Varian from strangulation.

It was here that Varian recounted his side of the story, tears dripping and mixing with the stream below him. "I was so scared..." he whispered, voice hoarse.

"I bet," Eugene soothed, running a thumb over Varian's palm. "What happened?"

"....I got jumped," his eyes turned downcast, shame coloring his features. "T-they grabbed me when I was gonna head home. Said that they wanted to make it up to me, to... to give me "a job befitting my talents"...." He sighed. "You can probably guess what that was, huh."

Eugene's ears burned. A flame simmered in his gut, nausea falling away as his free hand clenched at the leaves below him. "Yea. I can." He bit out.

For a moment, neither spoke, unsure of what to say. What could they say? The situation was insane, it was cruel, it was... it was…

Varian hacked, more blood than before coming up and splattering on the shackles that remained.

"Oh, let me get those," Eugene hissed. "I'm sorry, shit," He fumbled for his pockets, procuring a lock pick and making quick work of the shackles. "We gotta move. We can't let them find us." His hands hovered over the bolt, unsure. "Can I... I mean, you can't run with..."

Varian turned a shade of green, barely visible. “It’s stopping the blood from coming out.”

"Yea, good point, sorry." He coughed awkwardly, the stream bubbling and gurgling a simple melody.

"Why do... why do you keep apologizing?" Varian asked, not meeting Eugene's eye for a second.

"Wh- seriously?" He let out a bark of laughter, fading when Varian's face didn't change. "Kid, it's my fault you're in this mess! Sun above, I shot you. I said I'd keep you safe and I shot you." Anger swelled in his words, but Varian didn't flinch. He knew it wasn't directed at him. "Some Captain I am, I'm being chased by my own guys."

Varian bit his lip. "Did..." he hesitated to ask. If the answer wasn't what he was hoping for, he'd never recover. "Did you know it was me?"

"No!" Eugene's eyes widened. "No, I never would've agreed if I knew it was a person, let alone you!" He ran a hand through frazzled hair.

"So..." Varian hummed. "You shot me on accident, and then saved me. Again. Even when your men tried to convince you otherwise." Each sentence was slow, filled with Varian needed to take in a breath, but he met his friend's eyes this time. "I think that's a pretty good Captain."

Eugene blinked, then smiled. "Thanks, kid."

Dark voices shouted across the clearing, words incomprehensible. Varian jolted, hands flying up before doubling over hacking. Each cough shook his body so hard you’d think the boy was trembling with fright.

“Woah, easy,” Eugene’s hand rubbed over his back. “Deep breaths. Come on goggles. You got this.”

“You would think,” Varian rasped. “But I do not.”

Finally, with one final hack, his coughs ceased. Each gulp of air felt like heaven, or at least it did for the first few seconds. Then it was replaced by a searing hell, leaving him scrambling again.

God, what is the culprit?

As his breathing quieted, as the burn turned to a small simmer, Varian’s eyes trailed to the forest floor beneath him.

Stained with blood.

Varian’s eyes widened, his pupils shrunk to pinpricks as his entire world focused in on the blood. The dark blues of night left it hard to see, more a black shine than the vicious red, but there was no denying what it was.

“What-oooh,” Eugene hissed, grabbing Varian’s shoulders for support. Shit, this was bad. He made a mental list of symptoms for the inevitable doctor visit: raspy voice, struggling to breathe, coughing up blood... all signs pointed to the noose as the culprit. Whichever guard had tried to strangle Varian was getting fired and arrested.

No, screw it, all of them were.

“Focus on me, hair stripe,” he warned, shaking his brother slightly. “Are you ok to move?” All he got was a weedy moan.  “I’m taking that as a maybe.” With no preamble, he scooped his arms under Varian’s knees and back, pulling him into his arms as he stood in one fluid motion. “I’m gonna try and make a run for it, ok? We’re almost to your dad. I just need you to stay with me.”

Silence, and then a faint nod moving against his coat.

Each step sent vibrations up Eugene’s spine, tingling and thrumming in his veins and pounding in time with his heart. The sun would be rising soon, it had to be, with the dew that is forming at his feet.

At some point Varian readjusted, shifting so that he could see over their shoulders. He couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, but at least he could keep an eye out.

And it’s a good thing he did, when he beats wildly at Eugene’s chest in a signal. The captain was about to duck behind a bush, but the forest’s edge is within sight! Maybe if they made a break for it...?

An arrow grazed his side.

The pain looped through his system, joining the adrenaline for a joyride through his mind and it sent him sprawling. Varian rolled out of his arms, collapsing at the forest’s edge.

Eugene groaned, raising his face with the sun to see Aaron’s smug grin glowing in the upcoming dawn.

“Well, look what I caught! A daddy beast and a baby beast!” He said.

Eugene gaped. “Could you be any creepier? Really, gotta go for the weirdest shit to say, don’t you?”

“Eh,” Aaron shrugged, crossbow in hand. He stepped past his boss (Er, ex boss), boots crunching on leaves and leaving nothing but dust in their wake. “I’m a weird guy, I guess.”

“Yea, a real weirdo. Kidnaps a teenager and has the captain hunt him for sport. A nice quirk, ain’t it!” Each word is angrier than before until he is spitting acid.

Aaron doesn’t even argue; he’s too caught up in his victory. Varian shook as he struggled to sit up, arms quivering with effort. Just as he raised his head his eyes met the gleaming tip of an arrow, aimed right between the eyes. “Say goodnight, kid. Don’t worry. I’ll make a fine trophy out of you. Hang your goggles over my mantle.”

“Would you knock it the fuck off!?” Eugene wheezed, scrambling up. His feet gave out near instantly, but he leapt forward, colliding with the guard and driving his aim up. The arrow whizzed overhead, harmlessly lodging into a tree.

“Varian, run!” Eugene yelled, still on top of the other.

“I CAN’T! What part of arrow in my leg don’t you get!?” Varian yelled, immediately followed by coughing.

Eugene went to answer, only for the butt of the crossbow to whack him in the face.

Aaron laughed, loud and manic, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. It was quickly stopped by a punch to his stomach from the furious man above him. If the others found them, it’d be game over. Literally.

Whether or not Eugene would be killed was unclear. While he didn’t always need Rapunzel to save him, her good graces granted him immunity from most local threats. But they’d definitely kill Varian, and that was the bigger concern to him.

Unfazed, Aaron slammed his skull into Eugene’s, sending him tearing back. The guard quickly flipped them, crossbow still in between.

“Face it,” Aaron snarled. “You’ll never be a true captain. You can’t control your men, can’t protect a kid, can’t even protect yourself. You just got the job because you saved the lost princess.”

“In my defense,” Eugene wheezed. “Your previous guard couldn’t do that either.” That only angered him more, digging the crossbow into Eugene’s Adam’s apple.

The two men wrestled briefly, Eugene finally getting a good grip on the crossbow, and kicking Aaron off of him. He scrambled to Varian, fully prepared to scoop him up and begin the dance again, just for a little longer, but Aaron just yelled out in anger, drawing a sword from his belt. As strong as Eugene was, he couldn’t outrun him with Varian in his arms. He would know, he trained his men to match him in speed and strength.

Varian moaned in pain. He had to do something, he couldn’t just sit here! Eugene had spent the whole night running around, working his ass off to keep him safe after the initial mistake, he couldn’t let him down...

But the arrow scraped against his bone, pain sending stars across his vision any time he stood…

The captain’s hands clenched down on wood, eyes calculating. He looked into Varian’s eyes, then down at his leg. Then up again. And down again. He hissed between teeth, kneeled down, and clenched his fist around the arrow. It sent a pulse of pain through Varian’s leg, the boy wincing, but understanding.

“Do it,” he hissed.

And yanked.

The pain was so sharp, so intense, that for a moment Varian was certain he was dead. There was no way anyone could survive with this much pain, he must surely be dead or dying. White hot agony stabbed into his leg, and he bit so hard on his lip he broke skin. It took everything in him not to scream.

Aaron laughed again, shadow blanketing them. Eugene turned to see him looming over them, sword above his head. “Say goodnight, Sir!” he shrieked.

Fwip!

Thunk!

The man’s grin vanished in an instant, replaced by sheer shock at the arrow sticking straight into his throat. Blood trickled down the wound, looking more like an impulse tracheotomy. Suddenly, he pitched forward, face hitting the forest floor with a sickening shick as the arrow went the rest of the way through his throat. There wasn’t even a struggle, no death rattles or cry of pain, just the sounds of a morning dove in the coming dawn.

Eugene’s shoulders slumped, and Varian leaned back into the cool grass.

“You doing alright there, Goggles?” Eugene called.

“My lungs are on fire, I can’t feel my legs and I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know I could sweat. I’d say I’m in the mood to die, but I literally just spent the whole night trying to prevent that.”

“...fair enough.”

-

The weeks that followed were, for lack of a better term, a total fucking nightmare.

After pulling themselves together, the brothers managed to hobble to Varian’s house in Old Corona, just in time to greet Quirin at the door. Imagine the poor man’s shock when he was headed out to work only to be greeted by his son’s blood and the captain’s exhaustion. Suffice to say, they got a proper tongue lashing the whole cart ride to Corona proper, the father fussing over them both while he rushed them to the infirmary. And then they had to get chewed out by Rapunzel, and Lance, and pretty much everyone else, despite their repeated insistence that it wasn’t their fault this time.

“What did you expect us to do? We were being hunted!” Eugene whined at Rapunzel while a nurse cleaned up a cut.

“Uh, I was being hunted. You were hunting me .” Varian hoarsely piped up from his own bed, leg propped up in a cast. He paused at the frantic stop motion Eugene was making, and the paling faces of his father and princess. “Oh. Was I. Not supposed to say that.”

“You’re not supposed to be talking,” Rapunzel chided lightly, though that was clearly not the problem. The doctor had been pretty quick to explain Varian’s breathing issues were just from the throat trauma, and would heal with time and supervision.

“I didn’t know! In my defense,” Eugene held up his hands as if to shield from Quirin’s murderous face, but if looks could kill he’d be a pile of bones. “I didn’t know.”

“How do you…” Quirin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to remind myself that you saved my son’s life and ignore the part where you endangered it in the first place.”

“Yes, please do,” He said, shifting under the glare.

And then came the paperwork.

Trying to figure out who among the guards was part of the hunt was hard enough, seeing as outside of Aaron and his cronies, no one was going to say a word. All they had to go off of were the men who saw Eugene off, and the ones who initially captured Varian. And since they hadn’t run into anyone else directly, no one could be properly accused and charged. But Eugene wasn’t going to take any chances, and therefore anyone who he saw at least once was fired, and if they wanted to dispute it they could come to him and explain why they were willing to throw his little brother to the wolves.

Suffice to say, no one did. Which left Eugene with only two thirds his original squadron. He spent a good while of his recovery vetting new recruits and creating incentives for others to try out, and while he was able to replenish his ranks, they weren’t nearly the same elite task force they’d started with. And considering the threats they faced on the regular, that was a serious problem.

It was after a long day of training and interviews that Eugene finally stumbled into the castle library, ready to destress with a nice long binge read of Flynn Rider. He grabbed a few books off the shelves as he walked, headed for his favorite couch and the cozy fireplace at its side, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Varian lay spread across the couch, foot propped up on the armrest as he glossed over some scientific text that Eugene had no hope of understanding. His eyes flitted up and down the page, clearly not actually reading and more just staring at the words.

“Hey,” Eugene called, and Varian barely reacted. “Oi, kid, that’s my spot. Scooch it.” “I got here first,” Varian said, not looking up for a second.

“Older brother gets first dibs.”

“Little brother gets his way.”

Oh he was gonna play it like that was he? Eugene smirked, plopping his books down at the floor before collapsing directly on top of Varian, making care to not crush the injured leg. Varian squawked in protest, limbs flailing.

“Get off! You’re heavy!” he yelled, trying to push him off. When that failed, he resorted to whacking at him.

“Never!” Eugene laughed. “Your little punches feel like flowers!”

“I have an iron deficiency!” Varian responded, cheeks red but smiling slightly. The captain finally stopped suffocating him, but didn’t get off, instead wiggling in close so they could share. “Mean,” Varian whined, a pout on his lips, but didn’t complain.

“Oh hush,” Eugene chided, grabbing a book from the floor. “You know you love me.”

Varian simply hummed, buck teeth peeking through a tiny grin. “So, what did you grab for today?”

“Ah, glad you asked!” Eugene held up the cover, which Varian oohed in appreciation. “One of the older ones, came out when I was your age.” He wrapped an arm around Varian, pulling his brother close, the warmth of his side and the fire combining to create a heavenly cocoon. “You want to read, or should I?”

“Your turn,” Varian responded, stifling a yawn.

The book creaked in protest, Eugene gazing down at his little brother with a smile. He leaned his cheek on the boy’s hair, deep voice dripping with fondness as he started to read.

Being Captain was fun, but being a brother was even better.

#tangled the series #varian #tts #tangled #team awesome #tts eugene #eugene fitzherbert #tts varian #rta #rapunzel's tangled adventure

[moved-to-void-kissed]

Split of Twin Flowers

After being rescued from the realm of darkness, Aria seeks a way to give Ves a chance at living her own life, while also continuing to survive in her own right. Aqua brings her to the scientists at Radiant Garden to see if they have a solution, and for Aria to explain her situation, but the only option available may carry some worrying implications.. (3937 words)

Takes place after the ending of KH3. Content warning for mentions of battle scars, talk of a character being possessed, an event comparable to an exorcism (it’s kind of hard to explain in non-series-specific terms, sorry), and rather a lot of self-insert-focused exposition.

(Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required. I recommend reading this piece on the original document, but if that doesn't work, a transcript has been copied and pasted under the readmore.)

tag list: @thatslikesometaldude | @garchompp | @beeon | @tex-treasures | @catake | @tartaglialovemail | @catcao | @lilacslovers | @kissofthemoonrabbit | @vilehusband | @dragonsmooch | @childrenofmeyneth | @kalliopi-ships | @blackbirdcrime | @strawberryshipz (to be tagged in what I make, please click here!)

This is a piece I have been working on for a long time, and am very proud of, so I really appreciate anyone who takes the time to read it. I hope it isn’t quite as heavy as the content warnings may possibly indicate. I’m also using it as my post for the twenty-ninth day of sapphic September; there’s just one more to go!

Document transcript:

The door to the laboratory opened halfway, and a young woman tentatively poked her head around it. Upon seeing that she was not interrupting anything, she smiled and emerged more properly, brushing a lock of blue hair from her face.

“Oh, Master Aqua!” The lone scientist in the room smiled warmly as he noticed her. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Thank you, Ienzo.” Aqua replied, even if she did still in fact look rather tired. The long battle to defeat Master Xehanort and the true Organisation still felt fresh in her mind, and although it was a fight that the light had eventually won, it had still taken quite a toll on her. Not only that, but she hadn’t had the same chance to rest as the others - though thoughts of locating Sora still weighed on everyone’s minds, Aqua had been more concerned with finding a way back into the realm of darkness in order to rescue Aria, her partner who she had so unwillingly abandoned..

Now that Aria was finally free as well, Aqua could let herself relax a bit more, and with that lowering of her guard came much contemplation of everything she had gone through.

“Um.. Master Aqua?”

“Ah!”

She’d been staring off into space again, judging by Ienzo’s worried expression half-visible under his hair.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry!” she replied, slightly embarrassed at her lapse in concentration. The young scientist did not look entirely convinced, but he seemed content enough to continue.

“I’m the only one here at the moment, but I should still be able to help with what we talked about over the Gummiphone. Did you happen to bring Aria with you?”

At this, the half-open door Aqua had come through continued to swing open as if of its own accord, only to reveal another young woman entering the laboratory with a somewhat nervous expression. She had clearly been through a lot, and the realm of darkness she had reportedly been trapped in for aeons had definitely left its mark on her; several large patches of darkness could be seen spanning her face and body, with one reaching down her left eye like a melting wound.

“Yes, I’m here..”

Her catlike eyes flickered nervously around the room, and it soon became apparent that what Ienzo had thought was a cape were in fact a pair of black feathered wings, both subconsciously curling around her shoulders. It was only upon recognising that Ienzo was the only one present, and that his initial reaction to seeing her was not as negative as she was expecting, that she was able to relax slightly and explain herself from behind a now-steeled facade.

“My name is Aria.” she said, looking up at the scientist from under her messy blonde hair. “Aqua said you might be able to help me achieve something. Has she already.. told you about, well-”

“We’ve already spoken a little bit using the Gummiphone I was given before, but he said it was best for us to come and talk in person to try and get everything clear.” Aqua stepped in after sensing Aria’s hesitation and took her hand to support her partner. “It’s alright - you can trust him,” she whispered close to her ear.

Trusting only in her love’s reassurance, Aria started to explain her intentions to Ienzo, who seemed content to listen even considering the clear presence of darkness she had; this silent gesture of tolerance was greatly appreciated. She appeared hesitant to reveal much of her true nature as a Heartless, but she did what she could to inquire whether the young scientist knew any way for a heart to be released from its current body and inhabit a different one, allowing the dormant self within the original body to reawaken. Unfortunately, Ienzo remained pensive, even after she had said her part.

“So, you’re looking for a way for a heart to enter a new body? I’m sorry, but.. I’m not sure we’ll be able to help you. Any of the resources we could have used - which is to say, the replicas, they would have been perfect for this - were taken by Roxas, Xion, and Naminé’s hearts.”

“Oh. So, there is nothing you can do?” Aria persisted, but Ienzo shook his head.

Then came a flash of hesitant inspiration.

“Unless..” He trailed off and turned to look down one of the corridors leading away from the main lab space. “Could you two come with me, please?”

“Of course!” said Aqua brightly, as Aria nodded in assent.

==========

The three left the main hub of the laboratory to walk down the corridor, which felt as though it was turning downwards into a basement level of sorts. Once there, they came to a tall door which Ienzo unlocked with some sort of biometric scanner, and this opened out into yet another laboratory space with a similar layout to the first - however, this one seemed in a less presentable condition than the other, and its lack of windows seemed to be what was giving it a more foreboding presence. There was a distinct sense that something bad had happened here, once upon a time.

“After you and the other Guardians of Light helped to defeat Master Xehanort,” Ienzo was saying to Aqua, “we went back to the Keyblade Graveyard to see if there was anything to salvage from the battlefield, and we were able to bring this back with us.”

He gestured to a container at the far wall, in which the two Keyblade wielders could now see a strange white figure suspended inside, resembling a featureless mannequin. It appeared to be dressed in some kind of dark robes, of a dull purple colour inlaid with sharp red motifs, worn over pieces of tarnished metal armour. A number of scuffs and dents littered the otherwise-smooth surface, and Aria could sense traces of a dark presence seeping from the container, despite the blank nature of the figure itself.

“What is this..?”

“This is one of the replicas that Even created, back when he was still Vexen, and a member of the first Organisation.” Ienzo explained. “The first twelve were prototypes, initially abandoned as failures, since they were made before his assistant provided the data needed to perfect them, but.. From what I understand, the real Organisation - which Vexen was also a part of at the beginning - repurposed those twelve into vessels for Xehanort’s heart, as backups in case the people they brought through time fell in battle again.”

“That’s right, I remember fighting these now.” muttered Aqua. “But, didn’t they fuse into one form, eventually?”

“That’s what I thought, too, from your accounts of the situation.” replied the scientist. “I’m not sure if Sora defeating the replicas in battle made them all separate out again, since they weren’t really designed to be fused, or if this one was already too damaged to combine with the others in the first place. Regardless, it was the only one we recovered.”

He now turned to face the blank figure with a concerned expression. “We’ve been running some experiments to see whether it can be repurposed for anything, but.. There’s a lot of darkness still lingering within it, so it wouldn’t be safe for a heart of light to inhabit without risking it also being afflicted by that darkness. And we haven’t found a good way of destroying that darkness without compromising the replica, either.”

“I could sense the dark power when I saw it, so corruption would seem a likely outcome.” Aria mused. “This would also be darkness from Xehanort, so.. it isn’t that surprising that some part of it stuck around. Persistence did seem to be his only worthwhile trait.”

She had crossed her arms in contempt at this last part, but seemed satisfied enough to relax after studying the replica further. “It shouldn’t matter any more than he did in the long run, though.”

“Hmm..” Aqua seemed concerned about the prospect, but was trying to keep an open mind. “What do you make of it, Aria?”

“Well..” She took a moment to examine the figure with an unchanging expression. “The replica body itself has sustained some damage from the fight, but I don’t see why that would affect my ability to inhabit it - it’s just possible that those injuries would reflect in my new appearance, which is.. nothing I’m not accustomed to. And, if the heart within a replica determines its appearance, then maybe what’s left of my heart - or, I suppose, the heart that I once was - would be able to smooth over those gaps. Though, if it’s the latter, that could mean my appearance ends up changing, which.. is not what I want.”

Aqua tentatively nodded, but Ienzo seemed more visibly confused.

“I’m sorry to interject, but- what do you mean by “the heart that you once were”? You’re saying that that’s different to your heart, somehow?”

“..In a sense, yes. How do I explain this..?” There was a slight pause as Aria tried to gather her thoughts, and it was clear she was still trying to think by the hesitant nature of her words that followed. She had seen right through to the heart of the man standing before her, which glowed with a newly-restored lustre. It was a heart that sought to help people, and sought knowledge in order to do that, though there were visible flickers of a long-seated regret present as well. Still, it was a heart that she judged would not judge her, so she decided to provide it with the truth she hoped would sate it.

“Though I look mostly human to you, this- isn’t technically my body, however much I treated it as such. If I were to let go of this vessel, or be driven out from her, you would see me as I really am - a Heartless, a flowering thing. However, Heartless are created when a heart is consumed by darkness, so.. surely the appearance I would take if I were to possess a blank replica would be that of the person this heart - my heart - used to belong to. Only, I don’t- I don’t really see myself as him, or as Ves. I am different, I am my own- well, person, if I can even call myself that. Yet, when I imagine my appearance outside of this vessel, I can only see myself as a Heartless. Does that make any sense?”

“I think I follow..” the scientist mumbled, though his still-furrowed brow seemed to indicate otherwise. “So, you kept your memories of who you were, even after turning into a Heartless? Kairi had implied that the same thing happened to Sora, but.. I’d just attributed that to him turning the Keyblade of heart on himself to free her, so it wouldn’t have happened to anyone else.”

This claim caused Aria to shake her head. “To my knowledge, the method is irrelevant; what matters is the intention. The more willingly a person opens their heart to the darkness, the more of their mind they keep when their heart is consumed, and they become a Heartless. I believe this is what happened with Ansem, though he actively sought after darkness so strongly that he retained a human appearance as well as mind. The emblem on his chest was the only way an onlooker could tell his true nature. When it comes to my original self, he was a Keyblade wielder, very similar to what I know of Sora, but… though he certainly did not willingly or deliberately let his heart be consumed, he was able to accept his fate in his final moments, and that is what allowed the Heartless formed at his demise - so, in other words, me - to retain some semblance of mind and self. Just.. not as much of it.”

“Oh. Yes, I think that makes more sense now. Thank you for the clarification.” said Ienzo. He was writing something furiously in a book that seemed to appear out of nowhere, then became startled when he realised his blunder. In an instant, he opened his mouth to ask something, but closed it with relief when Aria’s expression reassured him she did not mind him making notes about her.

It was Aqua’s turn to speak up now. “It’s so interesting to hear about this from you, Aria - but, I can’t say I’ve seen that kind of behaviour in any of the Heartless I’ve fought before. Had you noticed it at any point while we were in the realm of darkness?”

“Not that I can recall.” she replied. “It isn't exactly that common of an occurrence, considering most people’s disdain for the darkness. And, not only that, but..” She turned away from the other two here, and her next words came much more reluctantly again.

“Before I took over Ves, I remember feeling that I was losing myself - all I was driven by was this desire to be complete again, to be human again, but that was fading away over time. Then, when I found her, I didn’t necessarily feel more human, but what sense of humanity I did have was no longer fading away. So, if I hadn’t found her or someone like her in time, I probably would have lost my sense of self completely, and become just as mindless as most other Heartless are. It’s only thanks to the type of Heartless I became that I was even able to possess her in the first place, and.. I didn’t start to truly feel more like a person until I met other Keyblade wielders, and they interacted with me.”

“I see, I see.. So you’re saying that, in those Heartless that retain a sense of who they were before becoming Heartless, the remnants of normal heart behaviour - of humanity, if you will - have to be nurtured by others in order to be sustained, and will just be lost to the darkness if not actively encouraged?”

“Yes.”

Ienzo paused to finish hastily scribbling this knowledge down in his notebook, then lifted his head in realisation once he had had some time to think. “I think I might remember something of that from the old Organisation, actually.. Though, the memory is very hazy..”

To stop his mind from wandering as it wanted to, he returned to address the matter at hand.

“From what you’ve said, Aria, it does sound like you’d be able to make use of this replica - and you may well be the only one who could. I don’t think there’s any other solution here for you, and.. I say there’s no better way to find out than by experimenting. Give me a moment to get everything ready, and then we’ll be set to see if it works!”

Aria nodded, content with the proposal, but Aqua reached out to take her hand with a worried expression.

“Aria, are you sure you want to do this..?”

“Of course I am, Aqua. This is why I came here.” she replied. Then she hesitated again. “..Why, is there something wrong?”

“Well, no, it’s just-” Aqua took a moment to settle her whirling thoughts, holding both of Aria’s hands in her own now. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when I use my Keyblade on you. I don’t want to hurt you, or even destroy you. And, if something happened with the darkness infecting the replica, then..”

Aria couldn’t bring herself to meet Aqua’s gaze, but it was clear she appreciated the consideration, and did her best to reassure her love. “If I could leave of my own accord, I would have done so by now, but.. we’ve become too intertwined for me to do that myself. And Ves is not quite strong enough to drive me out from within - it’s enough of an effort for her to stay existing in the first place. So.. an outside force seems to be the only way to separate us. And there isn’t anyone I’d trust to wield that force, other than you.”

Despite herself, Aqua couldn’t help but smile at the last admission, and she felt her normal confidence returning. “..Alright then. If you’re sure about this, then.. I’m happy to be able to help.”

The two embraced for a moment, then there was a pause of silence as Aria took a few steps back to stand in the middle of the room. Once Ienzo had brought the replica out of its container, he carried it around to the other end of the laboratory, closer to the other two. Aqua summoned her Brightcrest Keyblade, then slowly raised its tip to be level with the X on Aria’s outfit. She took a deep breath, then pointed the Keyblade directly at her partner, echoing the movement used to open the paths to new worlds.

Aria instinctively flinched when a thin beam of bright light shot forward from the tip of Aqua’s Keyblade, striking her directly in the chest. She was then forced down into a kneel as an aura of pink-tinted darkness began to escape from her body. Her expression was grim, as if she was in pain, but Aqua caught sight of a hint of a smile before the darkness now emanating much more rapidly from her form started rising up to create something above her. It almost completely engulfed her body as if to pull it upwards too, seeming particularly concentrated around her head and wings, before disconnecting entirely to drop a drained figure to the floor. This left a dense collection of dark pink wisps, amalgamating in the air.

Ienzo was now well off to the side, looking rather alarmed, but his expression was replaced with complete surprise when the amorphous cluster of darkness coalesced, giving way to what looked like a floating mass of pink petals. Eventually, it turned around to reveal a large jagged mouth and piercing yellow eyes, staring with an expression he found difficult to interpret. The Heartless stayed floating in place for a moment, as if disoriented, then suddenly appeared to notice Aqua, staring at her curiously.

“Aria..?”

Her tentative call was clearly recognised by the flowering monster, which began to float cautiously towards her. She still had her Keyblade summoned, and her hand was trembling ever-so-slightly - whether with nervousness, uncertainty, or something else entirely, it was impossible to tell. Then, Ienzo stepped between the two and lifted up the replica body, hoping that Aria still remembered the plan.

“Here!”

It seemed the Heartless remained aware, as she moved forwards more purposefully after this, and collided directly with the empty vessel’s centre. A few petals scattered from the force, but it took only a few moments for the Heartless’ form to disappear entirely, appearing to be absorbed into the replica body. This caused another aura of darkness to manifest, enveloping the blank surface of the replica and making Ienzo recoil from the body - but it caught itself as it fell from his grasp to end up kneeling on all fours. A few more moments passed, as the darkness engulfed the entire body in a shell, before gradually dissipating after a few gold sparks were seen being forced out of the system.

The figure that stood up was slightly smaller than the replica had looked in the container, with catlike ears now poking upwards from a fluffy head of golden blonde hair. As she lifted her head, a cluster of cute freckles were seen scattered across her face, though in what Aqua thought was a slightly different arrangement than before. There were other little differences here and there, as well - the shape of her face, the way her hair fell at the back, how she stood dressed in the unfamiliar clothes from the replica in the middle of the silent laboratory.

But all of Aqua’s worries disappeared when the girl standing before her opened her eyes. Neither the bright, empty yellow of the lesser, mindless Heartless, nor a piercing orange like the seeker of darkness, nor even the harsh cold shade between the two that Aria’s eyes had been before, but a warm and resolute amber was the colour that met Aqua’s gaze, and regarded her with a renewed sense of gratitude and love.

“Aria!”

The Keyblade Master ran across the room towards her partner and nearly knocked her over with the energy of her emotions. Aria was nervous, but comfortably allowed herself to melt into Aqua’s embrace, now able to feel the connection between the pair even more strongly than before. Something felt so much more tangible about her presence now, and the relief coursing through her new body was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“Aqua, it really worked..!” she smiled, speaking in a quiet voice filled with gratitude.

“I’m so glad you’re alright!” exclaimed Aqua, who also had a few tears in her eyes. “How do you feel? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s all fine, I promise.” she asserted. “The replica’s darkness was not organised; it was just remnants that my presence has removed. I feel.. different, but in the best possible way. I could never have done this without you here with me - thank you, so much, for being here..”

She trailed off, still smiling at her partner, and another wonderful moment came and went. Then, a movement from behind Aqua caused Aria’s expression to take on a slightly fearful quality, and she turned her head to see what was happening. The cause of this movement was the figure left behind when Aqua set Aria free, who was slowly trying to get to her feet, her heart’s light flickering nervously. A bright green eye could be seen darting anxiously around the room from under her hair, but she was too weak to properly move, and quickly fell back to the ground again. Ienzo stepped in to support her, and his assistance was clearly welcomed as she was just about able to stand.

“Please take her somewhere she can recover.” Aria requested hurriedly. “After everything I put her through, she needs every opportunity she can to rest and adjust to being herself again..”

“Don’t worry. We have good facilities here.” Ienzo assured her. “Everything will be fine.”

This did little to ease Aria’s guilt, but the gesture was nevertheless appreciated. “Thank you, Ienzo.”

The scientist nodded, and then slowly helped the girl walk to the corridor. She appeared to be very shaken, and was glancing at everything with apprehension and unfamiliarity, but as she turned the corner of the corridor, she looked back at the couple still standing side-by-side, and met the eyes of both her saviour and her prison.

(For all that you have done to me, I know why you do not deserve forgiveness.

But, this is not the first time we have seen each other face-to-face since that day, thanks to that mirror you found in the darkness.

And ever since that moment, you have sought a way to free yourself from me. To let me live the life you once denied me. To break the hold that any other being you’d call your kind would do everything to strengthen.

You calculated the risks, but you still took them - the risk you would lose everything and the one person you cared for, for the sake of me getting to “get rid of you”.

So, who am I to judge a person - the person you have become - by the actions of the creature you once were..?)

A ghost of a smile flickered over her face, and the long-held vessel finally free again spoke of her own accord for the first time since the age of ancient fairytales.

“Thank you, Aria..”

#a call from the void #creations from the void #kingdom hearts selfshipping #this post is okay to reblog! #sapphicseptember2021 #selfship #selfshipping #love: wayfinding waters (aqua) #selfship: survivors of the dark (aqua/aria) #self‑insert: darkness' champion (aria) #and also featuring #self‑insert: ruby in the light (ves) #read the post carefully before opening the readmore please #or opening the document (which is how I recommend reading this one) #I have spent a long time trying to write this piece #i am proud of it

[geniusgub]

BAD DAY//MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

word count: 3k

warnings: body image issues

before we get into the writing i just wanted to say that i’m not, in any way, criticizing mgg’s body in this fic. it is never my intention to make others feel bad about their bodies. i have plenty of experience w that and it feels awful. if anyone has a problem w this fic then please let me know. thank u.

i collapse onto the couch after a long day of cleaning the house, blasting music and dancing around while i have time alone. the house has been in need of a serious cleaning and when i woke up this morning with the energy to be productive, i didn't let it go to waste. the dishes were washed, all the laundry washed and folded and put away, rugs vacuumed, trash put on the curb, bathrooms scrubbed down, and mirrors cleaned of scuffs. and by dinner time, i've finished and feeling accomplished.

matthew has been away at work all day and was only able to spare me one text around lunchtime to tell me that he might be later than usual. i responded with a text that was far sweeter than it needed to be, professing my love multiple times and adding a slew of cute emojis. days that run long typically mean bad days, and bad days mean a very upset boyfriend. that never ends well.

when matthew doesn't arrive home by six, i send him a text to let him know that i'm going to order chinese food for the both of us, and that he can eat when he returns home. i get nothing in return.

i watch tv while i wait for the food to arrive and only half pay attention to whatever is on the tv. my only thoughts are of my boyfriend and how horribly his day must be going. the food arrives and i put it away for later so that neither of us have to eat alone. i take my place on the couch again and wait anxiously for the door to open.

surely enough, the front door swings open and matthew comes stomping in. i hear his backpack hit the floor and then his keys following, and then the door slams closed. he doesn't come into the living room where he know i always am when he gets home, and instead goes rushing up the stairs and presumably to the bedroom. surely enough, the door slams shut a second later.

a heavy sigh falls from my mouth. i shut the tv off and go to pick up the things he had thrown onto the ground. i give matthew a moment alone to collect his thoughts and once i've tucked away his keys and hung up his backpack, i make my way up the stairs and to our bedroom.

i knock on the door softly before entering, my heart breaking at the sight before me. matthew is sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, arms trembling and shoulders shaking. i can hear him sniffling softly, fighting back tears. he looks so helpless and so broken and in the five years that we've been together, i don't think i've ever seen him like this after a day at work.

i close the door gently behind me, and when the door clicks, i see matthew flinch slightly. "hi, sweetheart," i whisper, walking a few steps closer. "can i do something for you? can i help?" matthew hesitates with his answer, sniffling before nodding a tiny bit. "yeah? okay, what can i do?" i move to sit next to him now, a few inches away. i know he won't give me an answer when he's in this state, but sometimes, just asking helps. so i just sit and wait with him as he fights off his tears.

"you can cry, you know?" i whisper. "you can cry if you need to. don't hold it in." matthew shoulders start to shake even more, his hands sliding up and into his hair. he tugs on the strands, letting out a strangled sob for the first time. my heart absolutely breaks, and i reach forward to place a hand on his back, stroking up and down the fabric of his tee shirt. "baby, i'm here right. it's okay. you're okay."

he reaches his hand back and clutches my hand, tugging on it, but not lifting his head. i scoot closer, but as soon as our legs are touching, matthew's other hand starts pulling at my thigh, trying to get me even closer. so i move to stand in between his legs, pulling his hands out of his hair so he won't give himself a headache.

and once his hands are away from his hair, he grabs my waist and pulls me right into his lap, tucking his face into my neck. this is the time that he finally lets himself go, sobbing into my shoulder and holding my waist as tight as he possibly can.

"oh, my love," i coo, brushing my fingers through his hair and running my fingers up and down his spine, "i've got you. i've got you. just let it out. i love you so much."

he hiccups and trembles as he cries, and cries, and cries. i rock him back and forth just slightly, hoping the movement will bring him some sort of comfort and tranquility. and i'm not sure how long we just sit like that, holding each other as i whisper sweet nothings into matthew's ear. but eventually, his cries slow down and he's just shaking in my arms, clutching my sweater.

"can you look at me, baby? it's okay, i've got you," he lifts his head slowly, staring at me with bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks, pretty lips pouting and nose scrunching up as he sniffles. but i give him a smile, raising my hands to wipe the tears off his cheeks and brush his hair off his forehead. "hi, my love."

matthew's lips quirk up in the slightest but they don't stay that way. "hi," he whispers, voice cracking.

"so do you wanna talk about it or go do something else?" i keep touching his face, wiping the new tears away and letting his nuzzle his cheek into my hand.

"something else, please." he says.

"okay, that's fine. are you hungry? do you want dinner? it's in the fridge, i can go heat it up."

"no, no, i'm not hungry." he shakes his head, turning his head to place a kiss on the palm of my hand. "i think i wanna go take a bath, if that's okay?"

"of course that's okay. you do whatever you want. do you want me to come or do you wanna be alone?" matthew just shrugs in response. "okay, well, why don't you go alone and i'll come by in a little while?"

"yeah, okay," matthew nods and slowly ushers me off his lap, dragging himself into the connected bathroom. he closes the door behind him and i hear the water running a few seconds later.

i can honestly say that i've never seen him so upset, at least not in recent times. he's had his fair share of breakdowns over the years but this feels different. he's been upset over a bad day at work or not getting a role, but i can't recall a time when he cried that much.

i go downstairs and, regardless of what matthew said, heat up the food i ordered. i know that he doesn't have time to eat on busy days and usually tears through the fridge and pantry when he gets home. he didn't do that today so i can only imagine how hungry he is.

i leave the food in the microwave so it will stay hot and then head back upstairs. i knock gently on the bathroom door, waiting for a response that i never get. "matthew?" i crack the door open just the tiniest bit but don't poke my head in. "is it okay if i come in for a few minutes?"

i hear the water sloshing around before he hums. "mhm."

i enter the hot bathroom and close the door behind me. matthew's legs are pulled up to his chest, forehead resting on his knees and arms wrapped protectively around himself. i sit down beside the tub and reach over to run my fingers through his damp hair.

"sweet boy," i coo softly, "i know you said you don't wanna talk about what's making you upset, but i think it'll help. i don't wanna force you, but i wanna help you feel better." he leans into my touch when i trail my fingers down his cheek, almost purring like a cat.

"m'dizzy," matthew murmurs so quietly i barely even hear him.

i furrow my eyebrows at him, cocking my head to the side. "you're dizzy? from the heat in here?" i jump up and open the bathroom door so some of the heat can travel out. "did you drink enough water? have you eaten enough today?"

matthew shakes his head no, sniffling yet again. "no."

"no," i repeat, defeated. "well, i heated up the chinese i ordered and i left it downstairs. so maybe you can jump out of the bath and come eat and you'll feel better? sound good?"

i stand and hold matthew's towel out for him as he slowly climbs out of the bathtub. i watch him carefully, making sure his dizziness doesn't overcome him. not that i could do anything like catch him if he fainted. he’s too tall and i’m too short. i pull the plug on the drain and usher matthew back into the bedroom.

i watch in careful silence as he pulls on pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt, scrunching up his nose in the most adorable way. and once he's dressed, he turns to me with his shoulders hunched forward, almost like he's waiting for me to tell him what to do and where to go. i've been doing it since he walked in the door so i suppose he's too far gone that he needs me to continue.

i give him a small smile and grab onto his hand, leading him down to the kitchen. i point to a barstool in a silence instruction to take a seat, and retrieve our food from the microwave.

"so," i state as i sit down and dig into my fried rice, "i finished the next chapter of my book today! it's not the best writing i've done so i'm gonna do extensive editing on it, but at least it's done. i've been stuck on this chapter for weeks and i'm just relieved that i can move on."

"i'm sure what you've already written is amazing," he half heartedly, stabbing a piece of chicken before pushing it off his fork again.

i keep talking about my writing process, and observe him as he plays with his food and doesn't eat anything at all. i've finished my food in ten minutes and matthew hasn't eaten anything. he responds every now and then with short sentences or one word answers, and doesn't lift his head much.

i throw out my containers and fill up a glass with water and ice, placing it beside matthew's hand. i sit on the barstool beside him, facing him instead of forward. "you haven't eaten anything, sweet boy. you need to eat. did you eat anything today?" matthew ducks his head even further down and shakes his head no. i resist my urge to sigh. "okay, can you tell me why? i made breakfast for both of us and i thought you ate."

"no," he shakes his head again. "i don't- i just don't wanna eat."

he's never acted like this before and it's truly heartbreaking. he doesn't seem like the man i feel in love with and he's even a completely different man from the different man he is when he's upset. this is a new version of my boyfriend that i hope makes a one time appearance.

matthew takes a long breath and pushes around his rice before starting to speak. "last week, on set, i had a fitting for outfits for the episode we filmed today. and the kevlar vest that i've been using for years didn't fit. it was too small. so i," he hesitates, and then tilts his head a little towards me. i instantly bring my hair up to his wet hair and start scratching his scalp, "i just, well, this past week i just decided to eat less and hope that i could fit into the vest today. but it didn't work. it was still too small and it looked absolutely horrible. i looked horrible. ugly."

and yet again, my heart breaks for him. i've never really heard of matthew having issues with his body, except for the off comment that he didn't look good in an outfit or that it didn't flatter him. nothing to this extent. but i've had my fair share of body image issues over the years and matthew has always been quick to remind me that i'm stunning, regardless of whether i'm wearing an extra small or a large.

"i'm sorry you feel this way, love," i drag my hand back to the nape of his neck and play with the short hair there. "and i know exactly how it feels to not fit into clothes that you used to fit into. but you've helped me realize that we don't keep the same body every year. our bodies change as we get older. remember that red dress you really liked on me? it doesn't fit me anymore because i'm not as skinny as i was when we met. but i got a new one that suits me better. it's okay for your body to change and there's nothing wrong with it. you're beautiful no matter what, or handsome, if you'd prefer that."

matthew nods, wiping his cheeks when he finally lifts his head. "i just looked so bad today."

"i'm sure you didn't. i always tell you that i look horrible in outfits you think i look good in. everyone is always really hard on themselves and that's natural."

he drops his head again and let's go of his fork, letting out a heavy sigh and resting his hands in his lap. but i stand, moving his hand away and sitting down on his lap, placing my hands right on his ribs. "when you filmed season twelve, you started to work out more. remember?"

matthew nods. "yeah, of course. what does that have to do with anything?"

"you thought that you would put on weight in muscle, and that's exactly what happened. your shoulders got broader, your thighs got thicker. and you know what?" i lean forward until our noses are touching. i manage to get a tiny smile out of him when i give him an eskimo kiss, our noses rubbing together. "i absolutely loved your body before and after you started working out. you know how much i love your thighs. they're sexy, baby. i know that me telling you things like this doesn't really help but i love your body, no matter what it looks like. what your body looks like doesn't define you."

"really?" he gives me the most adorable puppy eyes. "you like my, you know, my body?"

"i love your body, matthew," i move my hands down from his ribs to his stomach, slipping them under his sweatshirt and placing them on his bare skin. "i love everything about you." matthew lets his head fall forward and presses his forehead into my shoulder as i let my hand continue to roam his skin. "i'm not gonna force you to eat if you really don't want to, but i don't want you to starve yourself either. so i'm gonna go, okay? i'm gonna go sit in bed and you can either eat or not and not feel pressured by me staring at you, and you can join me when you're ready."

i place a kiss on matthew's nose before retracting my hands and heading back to our bedroom. part of me wants to hold him down and force him to eat all of his food and another part of me knows that letting him make his own decisions is the right choice. forcing him to eat when he feels badly about his body is the worst thing i could do. it could make him spin even further out of control and that is obviously the last thing i want.

so i curl up under the duvet on my side of the bed and flip the television on, skimming through the channels until i find some random romcom that i watched with matthew years ago. i leave that on and start scrolling through my social media.

just a few minutes later, matthew comes wandering into the room and closes the door behind him. when he walks towards the bed, i notice he's holding his pint of fried rice in his hand, and while i would normally not support eating in bed out of fear of getting the sheets dirty, i make an exception for this.

he gives me a weak smile as he climbs in beside me, instantly tangling his legs with me. i roll over and rest my head on his chest, bringing my arm around his stomach, resting my hand in his sweatshirt pocket. i try my hardest to ignore it as matthew scoops rice into his mouth slowly. i can tell it's a little bit of a chore for him to be eating, but nonetheless, i'm proud of him for doing it, even if he only eats a few pieces of rice.

"we watched this movie a long time ago. one of our first dates, right?" matthew mumbles.

"mhm," i nod against his chest, "we watched this in your house in the living room and ate pizza and complained about the acting."

"i love you," matthew randomly confesses, leaning down to press his lips to my forehead. "thank you. i don't know what i'd do without you."

"well, you'll never have to find out because you're stuck with me," i quip, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "and i love you too. a whole lot. and i love your tummy too. i think i might love your tum more than i love you. no offense."

#matthew gray gubler #matthew gubler #mgg #gublernation #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler fic #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler one shot #matthew grab gubler x oc #spencer reid #dr spencer reid

[doctorthreephds]

Synapses: Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 4.8k

TW: Mentions of death and drugs--specifically from the episode Demonology

A/N: Hey! Just a forewarning, the forensic techniques in this are complete speculation from what I know and they are probably not accurate at all. 

Summary: After starting your new job and getting closer to Spencer, you find yourself having your first fight with your new friend when the anniversary of your mother’s death approaches. 

Masterlist

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​ @green-intervention​ @eevee0722​

Starting your new job was hard, like all things, but enjoyable. The first few days were learning the ropes and the area and you often came home exhausted, tired from a long day’s work in a lab you were unfamiliar with. The little things were what kept you going. Every day, you made an effort to eat lunch with your father--leftovers or food to go from a nearby restaurant or deli. When your father went away on his case, you spent time with Penelope in her bat cave. It was fun to hang out with her, spouting comedic rhetoric whenever someone called her for advice.

“Please don’t eat near the merchandise, baby, it’s my money maker,” she states, typing away at the speed of light as someone rings in. “Information highway speaking, you’re on speaker with me and the good doctor.”

You snort and let out a small laugh as you silently dig into your takeout box of chow mein.

“The good doctor? I thought that was me,” you hear Spencer speak up from the phone and smile, lifting your chopsticks to your mouth.  

“You’ve been replaced, Dr. Reid. Sorry!” you say before taking another bite of the noodles.

“What are you doing--”

“Stay on track, boy genius. What do you need from me?” Penelope asks and you zone out, not wanting to listen into the details of the gruesome murders they were investigating. While your job sometimes involved dead bodies, you were in fact eating lunch and wanted to keep your lunch down for the rest of the day. After they were finished, you could hear them wrapping up and you inserted a final goodbye.

“Bye Spencer! I’ll see you soon,” you state as the phone beeps to signal that the call has ended. 

“See him soon?” Penelope spins around as she fiddles with a pink pen with a puffball on the end that almost matches the pink blush on your face. 

“I mean I’ll see him when the case ends,” you mumble and toss your takeout box into her trash, taking a sip from your water bottle.

“Hm, I’m sure that’s what you meant,” she smiles and turns back to her computer, typing something up. “If you need any info on him, I can tell you anything you want to know, sweets.”

“I’m not gonna do that, it’s an invasion of privacy,” you stand and check your watch, it’s about time for you to get back to work. “But if anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

Other times, when your father was too busy to entertain you, you would eat with the others--or more specifically, Spencer. Travelling up to the sixth floor, you check to see if Spencer is anywhere nearby. When you deduce that he is nowhere near, his plush office chair becomes your new home as you open up your bag and grab the tupperware full of salad while you wait for his arrival. Opening the small container, you poke at the leaves with your fork and make a face when you see that they’re soggy and limp.

“Have a salad today?” he asks as you look at the sad lettuce in your small tupperware container. 

“Yeah. Although, it doesn’t look very appetizing,” you state and put it down on his desk, looking up at the cup of coffee in his hand that looked far more delicious than the monstrosity that was sad salad. 

“Did you know that salad comes from the latin word ‘herba salta’ which means ‘salted herbs,’ so perhaps you don’t have enough salt on your herbs,” he states and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you close the container and put it away. 

“Any more salt and my blood pressure’s gonna be at risk. Wanna grab lunch at the deli?” you ask and stand. He nods as the two of you exit the bullpen, taking the elevator down.

This was your schedule, and you loved it. It didn’t take that long for you to build a good relationship with everyone, constantly checking in on their lives outside of Quantico. Emily was doing well with Sergio, Henry was growing at a rate that JJ couldn’t comprehend, Penelope was still going out with Kevin, and you and Spencer were often found hanging out on the weekends when he wasn’t called away for a case. 

You found it odd how easily you took to Spencer, how his fun facts were always there to brighten up every conversation and his constant pursuit of knowledge was admirable. He took you to his favorite bookstore as well as his favorite used bookstore that he frequented in hopes of finding first editions and original copies. He also would take you to his favorite park, the one that he went to so that he could play chess and he would always win. It wasn’t always about him, though, you loved taking him to go see new movies as opposed to the older and foreign ones that he enjoyed. The two of you also committed to trying new foods together. With his sensory issues and your picky nature, you both embarked on a journey to eat new foods in hopes of finding something new and delicious.

While your new found friendship was almost perfect in the way that you committed yourselves, it too could not come without ups and downs. The first bump came when you helped consult on an unofficial case, something that had happened with Emily’s close friends. It was only a few days before the anniversary for your mother’s death and you were running on fumes.

“Hello?” you ask sharply, pouring over several reports that were due soon. Your temper was short today and you just wanted to go home.

“Hey it’s Spencer. Are you okay?” he asks and you sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What do you need?” you sit back in your chair and take a sip of your coffee, attempting to quell your anxieties while he speaks.

“I’m not at Quantico right now, I’m at a victim’s house. His name is Thomas Valentine and he died of dehydration but Emily believes there’s foul play. I’ll have Garcia send over his tox reports along with Matthew Benton’s to see if the pathologist missed anything. We’re on our way back so feel free to meet us upstairs when we debrief,” he says and you nod, writing down the information on a stray post-it note so that you don’t forget. “By the way, your dad says ‘hi.’”

“Tell him I say ‘hi’ back. I’ll meet you upstairs,” you state and hang up the phone, sighing as you run your hands through your hair to release some nervous energy. It was only a few more days and you would be on your day off, it was only a few days until you would be able to visit your mom again.

Just as if she heard it from five floors up, you receive an email from Penelope with the toxicology reports from both victims. A quick skim shows that there is a lack of intense scrutiny due to the simple cause of death. But, if Emily and Spencer believe otherwise then it was in your best interest to assume so as well. Looking into Matthew Benton’s report, there was evidence of long-term methamphetamine abuse which could contribute to the death but nothing out of the ordinary. It was only midday and you were running out of steam but your friends needed you so you had to pull it together.

After printing out all the information you have and stashing it in a folder, you make your way up to the bullpen and watch people rushing around. The busyness and chatter made you a bit woozy but the sight of Spencer helped to ground out a bit. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to be here,” he frowns as he sees you approach and you shake your head.

“I’m fine, I just want to help out in any way I can,” you mumble and move past him toward the conference room where almost everyone was gathered. Once Hotch arrived, they began to pour over details and possibilities within this pseudo-case. 

Listening intently, you take note of the evidence as it is laid out for you, the scuff marks under the bed, the missionary church in Spain that the two victims had visited, the idea that each family had been highly religious. Years of going to church in France and D.C. were being brought back in an instant. 

“That sounds like an exorcism,” you blurt out and look up to see everyone staring at you. It was odd to hold their attention but you nestled down in your chair and continued to listen. 

“Look, I know the Bible just as well as anyone, but I also know there’s nothing more open to behavioral interpretation than religion,” Derek comments.

“Meaning what?” Emily asks, shaking her head.

“I think it’s dangerous for us to wanna find a connection between these deaths,” he states.

“Wait, was Thomas’ wife religious?” Emily frowns and looks around at your father. 

“She was concerned that he had been cursing God,” your father recalls as Spencer dives into an inference. 

“Exorcism ritual can take days to complete. It’s possible the stress induced could cause a heart attack, especially in someone with a history of drug abuse,” he explains and looks at you. 

“Definitely, drugs leave marks on your body that are irreversible unless you completely stop. It makes an impact on your hair growth, your skin, your heart, so it’s completely plausible. And it could explain how someone died of dehydration,” the facts fly so fast through your head as you try to connect the dots while you speak, your head spinning. Even a couple minutes in the conference room was overwhelming, you couldn’t imagine doing this all the time.  

“Guys, look, I’m willing to say that we might have an unsub who ritualizes killings as if they were exorcisms, maybe. But, right now, we don’t even know if we have a crime yet,” Derek voices his concerns and you slowly nod, thinking about how you could help to clear up any room for error. It was possible if you were able to look at the bodies and examine them that you may have the ability to try and see if there were any other traces of possible deadly substances. 

“Morgan’s right. We need to step back. Let me talk to someone before I have us all telling ghost stories,” your father suggests and everyone appears to take this as time to cool off and rethink any possibilities, standing and leaving the room to follow their own leads. Dread settles in your chest as you sit in the chair, looking down at the folder to find any piece of information that could help you come to a conclusion but the words were flying around in your head and you felt too sluggish to do anything. 

“Do you think that you can get me the victim’s clothing? Perhaps something was done to them topically that would explain their deaths further,” you stand and sigh, already dreading going back to your reports. 

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be our lunch break,” he says and smiles. While his smiles usually have the power to brighten your entire day, your sour mood only extinguished any fire of joy inside your body.

“I have too much to do, just go on without me,” you respond and begin walking out of the conference room. You can already feel Spencer’s pestering bubbling up and wanting to know what’s wrong but you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Are you sure? Studies have shown that taking breaks help boost blood flow and information retention--”

“I’m sure, Spencer,” you snap and continue walking toward the elevators before he reaches out and grabs your arm to stop you.

“What’s going on? Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“God, I’m fine Spencer! Stop babying me, you’re not my dad,” all the emotion that had been building up in the morning spilled out in anger and your heart shattered to see Spencer so confused and sad. “I’m sorry.”

Stepping into the elevator, you press the button to go down and watch the doors close in front of you, not looking anywhere in the direction of Spencer. The fluorescent lights above you suddenly look far too bright and tears well in your eyes. What would your mother say if she could see you now? Would she be disappointed? Would she be angry? A vibration in your pocket breaks you out of the self-loathing spiral.

From Dad (12:24PM):

I think you just about broke this kid’s heart.

To Dad (12:25PM):

I didn’t mean to. It’s just so close.

From Dad: (12:25PM):

Just tell him. He’ll understand.

To Dad (12:26PM):

I know. I love you.

As you sit at your desk and stare at the papers, your mind moves on autopilot to complete the rest of your tasks. With only two cups of coffee in your system, your head was starting to hurt and your focus was fizzing but when Spencer came back with a couple bags full of clothing to be processed, the guilt overpowered any feeling of fatigue.

“I brought the evidence. Just send the report to Garcia,” he states and drops the bag off at your desk before turning to leave. 

“Hey, Spencer?” he turns to look at you, his eyes narrowed as you speak. “I’m really sorry. I’m not feeling well.”

“I could have told you that, and I’m not even a medical doctor,” he mutters and sighs. The air between you is stale and you want to speak, but don’t know what to say.

“Do you want to stay and help me process the evidence? It’ll only take a little bit,” you ask, your voice small. He appears to ponder the thought before nodding and you smile, standing and taking the evidence over to one of your machines. This was where you thrived. While you worked in silence, it was comforting to have Spencer around, even if the two of you were still on rocky ground. 

You first started with isolating the fabric and the substances on the clothing. From there, you take them and test what they are to see if there are foreign substances that may have contributed to the deaths of Matthew Benton and Thomas Valentine. Processing goes quickly and you print out the report, frowning at the traces of nerve agent on the clothing.

“There’s sarin on their clothing,” you tell him and hand over the papers for him to read through. 

“Thanks,” he mutters and stands to leave. 

“Are we okay?” you ask him, watching him turn as you wrap your arms around your torso in a comforting way, warming your hands from the cold lab.

“Obviously not, if you’re not telling me something,” he puts down the folder and comes up to you, reaching out to take your hands. It was a bit of a shock, considering the fact that you knew he hated touching hands, but it was progress and it made your heart melt to think that he would feel safe enough to do so. “I know something’s wrong and I want to help you, but you’re not being honest with me.” 

“I just haven’t eaten, Spence. And I’m under the weather, which doesn’t help. I promise that I’ll be okay,” you tell him, staring up into his eyes and speaking with as much truth as you can. But it wasn’t convincing enough and he pulls away as if you just burned him.

“I guess you don’t trust me, then,” he mumbles and turns around, picking up the folder and getting into the elevator. As the doors close, he stares back at you like he was disappointed and it completely broke you. Fat tears roll down your cheeks as your chest bubbles with anxiety and sorrow. You find a seat at your desk and desperately try to wipe the tears away, breathing in deeply to calm yourself down. You were still at work and you still had work to do. 

Quickly, you dive back into your reports, writing them up as quickly as possible and pushing Spencer to the back of your mind. Before you know it, the end of the day comes and you’re out of the building and on the metro at record speed. The vibration of the wheels rolling over the tracks lulls you into a sense of security, distracting you from the pangs in your stomach. Without the distraction of work, your mind was able to wander.

Was it fair for you to hide this from Spencer? Why did you? Why did you need to keep this secret so badly?

Perhaps it was the years of being on your own after her death or the fact that showing sadness was opening yourself up to vulnerability and connection that you feared. Perhaps it was both, you didn’t have many friends in grad school and only talked to your dad once every blue moon. The thought of being a burden was unbearable, but losing Spencer was unfathomable. You could deal with a little bit of vulnerability if it meant getting your friend back. 

Your legs guide you home once you reach your stop and you reheat some rice and add some soy sauce to make something that is edible and that you can keep down without issue. After eating, you shower and head to bed, falling asleep the second that you hit the pillow. 

The next day, your alarm jars you out of a dreamless sleep, shaking you from a night that felt far too short. Your entire body was fatigued and your brain was a mess, but it was your last day at work before you got the day off. As you got ready and out the door, your phone was blowing up with information sent by Penelope and Emily. There was another death and they needed you to analyze the clothing of the third victim to confirm that nerve agent was being used to kill these men. 

One you reach the office, you sit down and begin writing as you await the evidence. If you worked quick enough and finished the reports, you would be able to go home early. The fog in your brain makes it hard to focus as you work on more write ups, the words barely forming sentences, but you force yourself to persevere through lunch. Late in the afternoon, Spencer appears again with the evidence bag you need to process.

“Just send the report to Penelope when you’re done,” he states and turns back around to get into the elevator but you stand and pipe up.

“Can we talk?” you ask, hoping and praying that he would let you speak. 

“I don’t know, can we? Because you seemed pretty adamant about keeping secrets from me last time we tried to talk,” he mumbles as he turns to look at you, his eyes dark and full of storm clouds. 

“I’m sorry,” you begin, trying to find the right words so that your thoughts form coherent sentences. “I’m bad at talking about what’s plaguing me. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse, I know, but it’s a start.”

You want to say ‘I’m sorry’ over and over, but it wasn’t an explanation and he deserved at least that.

“Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother’s death,” his frown almost vanishes from his face as you speak which makes you feel a hint of encouragement to keep talking. “And I’ve always dealt with it alone. Maybe because I don’t let myself handle it any other way, but I hope that you’re able to understand. I’m sorry, Spencer.”

Staring down at the ground, you will the tears to stay in your eyes so that you can keep up some image of togetherness, but they fall as quickly as they form. Suddenly his arms are wrapped around you and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. This was him accepting your apology and you suddenly felt like you could breathe. You worm your arms around his torso and pull him close, allowing yourself to take in all of him. The smell of his cologne, the feeling of muscles as they squeeze you tight, the fact that his hands were intertwined behind your back and his head was settled on top of yours. 

“I’m sorry too,” he mumbles and you pull away slightly to look up at him. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

He pauses as he also stumbles over his words.

“But, I’m glad you did.”

You let out a sigh and hug him tight again, wanting to memorize the way his arms felt around you. After another long hug, you pull away and wipe your nose, shaking your head as you look over at the evidence bag. 

“I’m sorry, Patrick. I’ll get to processing your clothes now,” you mumble and let out a light laugh as you wash your hands and ready the evidence, processing the substances on his clothing. Beside you, Spencer leans against the wall and watches silently. It’s a bit nerve wracking to have someone watching you the way that he does, with bright eyes and attentive body language, but you do your best to explain it to him as the machine brings up the results. 

“Nerve agent, it’s sarin,” you turn to him. “Go tell them.”

He nods and picks up the newly printed report.

“I’ll come get you afterward,” he promises. “We can ride the train together.”

“There’s no need, I’m going home now. Just text me,” you smile up at him as he nods and takes your hand, squeezing it one last time before leaving.

You feel lighter now, like you lifted a rock off your chest. It was a burden, keeping secrets, but now you could feel a little bit better. After writing up all the procedural stuff on how you processed the evidence, you pack your bag and head to the metro. When you’re on the train, you get a text from Spencer telling him that they caught the priest and he was being deported back to Italy. 

To Spencer (7:45PM):

I’m glad.

From Spencer (8:01PM):

Do you want me to come over?

To Spencer (8:02PM):

No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay.

When you finally arrive at your stop, you easily find your way home. There was still sadness lingering, it was getting to be that time, but you had Spencer and that was enough. Getting home and getting to bed is a quick ordeal after you eat something and drink way too much wine to try and drown your sorrows and quiet your mind. The same days every year, you take a couple off so that you can mourn the loss of your mother and visit her grave. It was almost like a way to pretend that she was alive, even if just for a day. You had a lot to tell her after everything that’s happened, but it still didn’t help the fact that she was gone forever. 

Waking up the next morning is rough, it feels like a train plowed into you after a night of tears shed and one too many glasses of wine as you reminisced. Looking at your phone on this bright Friday morning, you see that you’ve managed to sleep in pretty significantly, but at least it was still technically morning. Waiting for you are a text from your father and a text from Spencer.

From Dad (6:00AM): 

Chin up, tesoro. Your mother loved you very much, she would be proud of everything you accomplished. 

From Spencer (7:02AM):

Do you want to get dinner after work?

From Spencer (7:34AM):

Where are you?

From Spencer (8:01AM):

Let me know what I can do.

The blanket of isolation took over you as you slowly began your morning routine, slowly being the key word. While Spencer knew, you didn’t know what to do now. This was uncharted territory for you and while you knew you weren’t alone, you had also never mourned with another person besides time spent at your mother’s funeral. Perhaps another year, another time. He was only just your friend. 

After you throw on comfy clothes and brush your teeth, you put your hair up so that it’s out of your face and eat some cereal--something easy and virtually effortless. Once you finish, you make a mental note of what you’re going to pick up at the store before heading to the cemetery to spend time with your mom. Throwing on a coat and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you punch in the security code and open the door to see Spencer there.

“Spencer? What are you doing here, it’s only like two,” you frown and close your apartment door behind you, locking it with your keys.

“I finished up all my paperwork so I took a half day and I wanted to cheer you up,” he states as you look up at him. “Maybe we can watch some Star Wars or that vampire movie you always talk about.”

“I’m going to visit my mom,” you tell him.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll go then,” he says and begins to turn and walk away but you pipe up before he can get too far.

“Why don’t you come with me?” you ask. He was already here and he wanted to help you feel better. His presence alone was grounding, reminding you of what you had and not of what you lost. 

“Are you sure?” he asks and you nod, walking up next to him.

“She would have loved you,” you almost reach out and take his hand before you realize what you’re about to do. “Can--Can I hold your hand?”

You’re almost positive he’s going to say no. After all, you know he has issues with germs and sensory issues, the day before being a special occasion because you had broken down crying in front of him. But, when he nods and holds out his hand, you feel your heart flutter. The two of you make your way downstairs in a comfortable silence and the warmth of Spencer’s hand in yours is comforting. As you exit the elevator and make your way out onto the street, the cold D.C. air is refreshing.

Together you walk to the local grocery store to grab some food and flowers, daffodils, which were your mother’s favorite. After, you ride the metro down near the cemetery. This whole time, the presence of Spencer is enough to distract you from the ever present cloud looming over your head, but when you finally walk through the cemetery’s gate, all hell breaks loose. 

When Spencer hears you sob, he instantly wraps his arms around you. The floodgates open and you softly sob into his chest, your arms wrapped around him in a vice. Your heart hurts, you miss your mother. She should have been alive to see all the accomplishments, to see your wedding and your second graduation. It’s times like these where you wonder if anything could have been done, if you could have seen the symptoms sooner or if you could have found another doctor, but your father always reminds you that you did everything in your power to help her and that she would have been proud of the person you were today. 

Once your sobs subside, you sniffle and pull away to wipe your nose. 

“Sorry for crying on you,” you huff out a small laugh and try to wipe away some of the snot that got on him while you cried.

“It’s okay, I understand,” he says and you sit down on the blanket, Spencer sitting next to you and helping to lay out the food. 

“Hey mom,” your voice breaks a little and you clear your throat before turning to Spencer. “This is Spencer and he works with dad. He’s my best friend.”

You smile at him as he turns and waves at her headstone. The notion is so heartwarming that you feel the tears rise up again.

“Hi Ms. Montgomery, your daughter is one of the best people I know,” he says as you begin to eat cheese and crackers from the charcuterie board.

“He works in the same building I do, I got the job at Quantico. I know that FBI agents and you don’t mix very well but I enjoy my job and they have all these new machines for me to play with,” you lay your head on Spencer’s shoulder and continue talking as he wraps an arm around you instinctively. As the two of you sit there and pick at the food, continuing to talk about your mom and your fondest memories, there’s a part of you that wishes it could be like this always. Maybe you didn’t have to always hide your sadness and spend it in isolation. And just maybe, there was always a rainbow after a storm.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia

[today-only-happens-once]

and miles to go before I sleep

Title: and miles to go before I sleep

Word Count: 6,650

Chapter 1

Summary: Virgil came here to stop a curse and save his kingdom. But another Prince has the same goal in mind... and only one kingdom is supposed to come out on top. Slowburn Romantic Prinxiety. A Two Princes Podcast AU. 

Chapter Warnings: stealing; lying; Patton is kind of working in a gray area but he means well and is only trying his best; Janus does some light treason I guess?; violence; giant hornet; plant monster; killing monsters/violence; blood mention/description; threats; if you are a die-hard fan of the podcast please be warned that I do take a few creative liberties with stuff from the podcast at times. 

A/N: this idea has been knocking around my head for a while, and I finally started to write it. I thought I’d write it all before posting, but I’ve found that I’m starting to lose steam. So here’s the first part! If you like The Two Princes, I hope you’ll enjoy this Prinxiety twist to it! If you’ve never listened to it, I hope you’ll consider giving this a shot and then maybe going to check it out! <3 Editing done by yours truly. All mistakes are mine. 

...

“Stop! Thief!” 

Virgil takes a hard left turn down the Western Corridor of the castle, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush. He sprints down the stone hallway, racing past the familiar stained-glass windows. The book in his hand is heavy and leather-bound, and Virgil tucks it tighter under his arm as he runs. The hood of his dark cloak nearly slips off his head in the process, and he uses his free hand to keep it from falling. 

“Halt!”

Ahead of him, three members of the Royal Guard appear from around the corner. Virgil skids to a stop, whirling around only to find two more guards running up behind him. He’s surrounded and cornered. Nowhere to go. Virgil huffs a breath, holding his hands up and kneeling on the floor in surrender. He lets the book thud to the ground. He’s grateful that the hood of his cloak swallows his head, and he keeps his head downcast to let it shadow his face from view even though he knows his anonymity is really only a matter of seconds.

There’s the scuff of boots against the stone floor approaching him, the clanking of armor as the guards move aside, and Virgil grimaces to himself. He has the sinking feeling it’s his older brother. 

“Your Majesty,” one of the guards from behind him greets the newcomer, confirming Virgil’s suspicions. “We caught this person attempting to steal the Forbidden Book.” 

Virgil keeps his face hidden in the hood of his cloak, but he sees his brother’s boots step into his vision. “What’s your name?” his brother asks with that familiar soft friendliness. 

Virgil knows that he can’t hide much longer--someone is going to pull the hood off his head at any moment--but he really doesn’t want to deal with the look of disappointment in his older brother’s eyes that he knows awaits him. He’ll push it off as long as he can manage. So Virgil stays resolutely silent. 

He feels a slight tug on the hood of his cloak and the silky material causes it to fall to his shoulder blades effortlessly. 

“Virgil?” 

Virgil looks up sheepishly. “Hey, Patton.”

His brother was twelve years older than him but only a couple of inches taller. His hair wasn’t much lighter than Virgil’s, and their eyes were the same shade of brown that their mother’s had been. But Patton had seemed every bit older than him. Virgil couldn’t explain why--if maybe it was the weight in his eyes that would show only when he thought nobody was looking or if maybe it was the way he’d mastered the ‘I’m not angry I’m just disappointed’ stare years ago--but there were times when Patton seemed even older than twenty-nine. 

“What the heck were you doing?” Patton swoops down and snatches the book from where Virgil had placed it on the floor in front of him. Virgil tries not to grimace. His brother hands it off to one of the guards who immediately rushes to take it back to the vault. 

Virgil sighs and accepts the hand that Patton extends to him to pull him up to his feet. Patton waves a hand and the guards only hesitate for a moment before they turn abruptly to head back to their post. Virgil waits until they’re alone in the corridor before he answers.

“Patton, come on. You know exactly what I was doing.” 

Patton frowns, his brow pinching together. “Virgil,” he starts, and Virgil has to stop himself from rolling his eyes because he knows that tone, “I already told you that book is no good for anybody.” 

“No, I know you keep saying that. But our kingdom is under siege, and--”

“Siege?” Patton repeats. “I think that’s a bit of an overstatement there, kiddo. I should start calling you just ‘Anxiety’ with as much as you worry.”

“How else would you describe the forest that is overrunning our kingdom and has been for years? It’s nearly at our palace walls.” Virgil gestures out the stained glass window. “You can’t go anywhere in town without having to step over and around roots and vines. It’s been choking our food supply, it’s overrun our farming villages… That’s not normal. And nobody in this godforsaken castle will talk to me about it.”

Virgil sees that flicker of something he can’t identify pass through Patton’s eyes. It was the same look he got any time Virgil tried to mention the Forest or the Curse. But it was always too fast for Virgil to be able to identify it. 

“Have you ever thought that’s because there’s nothing to talk about?” Patton tries. 

“When was the last time you looked outside, Patton? That Forest is going to destroy our kingdom,” Virgil snaps. “I know it’s the Curse and I know that book has answers. I just don’t know why you don’t want me to know them!” 

Patton presses a hand to his temple. “Virgil, will you just drop it? Please?”

“All I’ve done is drop it. From what I’ve been able to piece together from books that you will let me read, two kings from rival kingdoms held a grudge against each other a thousand years ago, and that grudge started some kind of curse. But I need more if I’m going to do anything to fix this.”

“Nobody is asking you to fix it--”

“Somebody has to!” 

“Virgil…” Patton looks at him then. He looks tired, Virgil thinks. And… afraid. “Please. I… you’re my baby brother. I’m just trying to look out for you, okay?”

Virgil wants to argue. He’s seventeen. He doesn’t need his older brother protecting him like he did when they were little kids. He sometimes wonders if Patton still sees him as that six-year-old kid that would run to his room when he had a bad dream. He wasn’t. But he doesn’t know how to get Patton to understand that. Besides, a part of him falters at the tinge of desperation that colors Patton’s words. 

“Okay,” Virgil agrees with a sigh, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Fine.”

There’s a grateful twitch to the corner of Patton’s mouth. Then, his expression brightens with a sudden idea and Virgil has the feeling he’s not going to like it.

“Hey,” Patton says. “Your birthday is almost here. What do you say we throw an early birthday party for tomorrow?”

Virgil arcs an eyebrow. “My birthday isn’t for another four days.”

“I know, but I think we all could use a little something to boost the kingdom spirit, y’know?” 

Virgil hesitates. “Patton, you can’t just use parties to distract yourself from problems.” It’s a conversation they’d had before, so he knows what Patton is going to say even before the words leave his brother’s mouth. 

“I’m not, Virgil,” Patton replies, right on cue. “But I think focusing on something good and happy is better than wallowing in the negative. Right?”

“Right,” Virgil says hollowly. 

…

Virgil hates parties. They’re crowded and loud and the repetition of forced, awkward small talk reminds Virgil of everything he doesn’t like about being a prince. Nobles and dignitaries mill around the ballroom, talking to one another without talking about anything that Virgil thinks ought to be discussed. He nods his appreciation and mutters a quick “thank you” as people wish him a happy birthday, and he tries to ignore the increasing desire to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Virgil snags a piece of bread off the snack table and clings to the edge of the growing crowd in the ballroom. 

“You look like you’re having a positively terrific time, Your Highness,” a familiar voice says to Virgil’s left. When he looks, Virgil feels a twinge of relief at the familiar face of Lord Janus: his brother’s closest political adviser. 

Virgil snorts. “Yeah, well. This was hardly my idea. You know how my brother is.” 

“Hm,” Janus hums, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Indeed.” Virgil stifles a yawn. Janus arcs an eyebrow at him. “Tired, Your Highness?”

“Sorry,” Virgil replies. “Just… didn’t sleep well.”

He thinks about the dream he’d had last night. He’d been cold, in the dark, surrounded by looming shadows that looked almost like trees. There’d been a deep, echoing, vaguely familiar voice calling his name. Virgil. Then a tugging sensation around his waist so strong it yanked his feet out from under him, and the falling sensation had jolted him from his sleep. He’d woken up in his room, trying to catch his breath, the echo of his name still reverberating in his head. 

“I see,” Janus replies, his gaze narrowing slightly.

Virgil avoids his eyes, instead letting his gaze flit over the crowd of people. Some of them he recognizes from various meetings and prior parties that Patton had thrown over the years. He watches as a tall man he recognizes as Sloane--a long time family friend--lean over to whisper something into the ear of Corbin, one of the royal scribes. Corbin suppresses a smile. 

“Are they… together?” Virgil wonders aloud. He couldn’t describe it, but there was something about the way they seemed to gravitate near each other, even while Sloane turns to talk to someone else, that makes him wonder.

Janus follows his gaze. “Yes,” he confirms. “To my knowledge, there’s an expected engagement to occur soon.”

There’s a part of Virgil that’s surprised. He wouldn’t describe himself as particularly close with either one of them, but they seemed like near opposites. His gaze lingers a bit longer on the two of them, catching the way Corbin deftly slips his hand into Sloane’s and squeezes. Virgil tears his gaze away, feeling oddly like he’s intruding on something intimate even though they’re in the middle of the ballroom. 

He finds Remy weaving through the crowd, seemingly at ease in the sea of people. Remy is another of his brother’s advisers, though he doesn’t work as closely with Patton as Janus does. Virgil knows that Remy’s area of expertise is primarily in trade and commerce. Most of that had stopped around a year ago, as the growing Forest cut off most trade routes into and out of the kingdom.

“How does he still have a job?” Virgil wonders aloud, watching as Remy laughs politely at a joke a dignitary that Virgil doesn’t recognize makes. 

Janus hums. “Your brother ensured that Remy’s original conception as an economic adviser would not be limited to inter-kingdom trade. Exchanges occurring within the kingdom and city walls fall under his domain of expertise as well.” 

“Won’t be long before he’s out of a job anyway,” Virgil mutters.

“There are few things that the king cares about more than the well-being of his kingdom.”

“And I’m one of those things.” Virgil looks at Janus, challenging him to disagree. Janus merely returns Virgil’s stare with a steady, silent one of his own. Virgil has known the adviser long enough to recognize it as silent agreement. 

Virgil releases a frustrated breath. “I’m not a child anymore, Janus. He doesn’t need to protect me.”

“I assure you that Your Majesty doesn’t view it that way.”

“I don’t even know what he’s trying to protect me from,” Virgil continues. Realization dawns suddenly, and Virgil narrows a glare on Janus. “But you do, don’t you?”

It makes sense to Virgil. There is little that Janus doesn’t know--he’s often said it’s his business to know things as the chief political adviser--and though Virgil may not understand how Janus gathers his information, he has no doubt that Janus knows exactly whatever it is that Patton has been hiding from him. The suspicion is only confirmed when he sees Janus’s lips press into a thin line. 

Virgil shakes his head. “Unbelievable. I don’t understand.”

Janus arcs an eyebrow. “I think Your Highness does.”

“No, no I don’t,” Virgil hisses back in a low, frustrated voice. “What is my brother hiding from me?”

Janus grimaces, his gaze flitting over to Patton across the ballroom. Patton doesn’t seem to notice, too engaged with a conversation with the Lady Valerie to pay them much mind. Janus sighs, then turns back to the prince.

“Your Highness--”

Janus cuts off as the floor beneath them rumbles. The dining ware on the table clatters loudly from the tremor, and the ballroom falls silent with uncertainty. Virgil braces a hand against the nearby wall to keep balance. 

“Uh, what is that?” he asks, too late.

With the sound of shattering stone, sections of the marble floor splinter open. Virgil watches, horrified, as green vines rise from the fissures almost like tendrils of an awakening monster. Cracking wood snaps sharply in the hall as what Virgil can only describe as tree roots thicker than his own body push their way up through the cracks in the floor. 

Screams and shouts of alarm fill the ballroom, ricocheting off the stone pillars. Virgil watches as a vine curls around the ankle of a dignitary, yanking her off her feet. One of the guards, sword already drawn, rushes forward. They slash at it, slicing through the vine and helping the young woman back to her feet.

“The Forest is invading!” the guard shouts. “Everyone take cover! Guards, attack!” 

The clamor of battle swells, and Virgil presses flatter against the wall. His gaze sweeps over the crowd, trying to locate his brother. Virgil sees a tree root snake around Corbin’s torso with a speed that isn’t natural for a plant. Sloane shouts for him, but a vine snaps around his wrist and he yanks a knife out of his boot to cut himself free. 

Virgil goes to move to help--he may not be athletic exactly, but he can’t just stand around and do nothing when people are in danger--but something yanks him back to the wall like he’s attached to it. He glances over his shoulder and sees the vine twisting in the jacket of his suit. Virgil desperately wrestles out of the garment, but another has already begun wrapping around his chest. 

“Hey!” Virgil yelps, trying to wrestle it off him. He sees a sudden flash of metal in the corner of his eye and the vine around his chest goes suddenly slack. Virgil shoves it off, looking over and realizing it was Janus, wielding the sword that had been at his hip, who cut him free.  

“Janus,” Virgil says. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Here, take this.” Janus pulls out a piece of paper from his breast pocket and shoves it into Virgil’s chest. 

Virgil stumbles back a step from the force, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s this?”

“A map,” Janus answers, quick and urgent. “It will take you straight to the Hollow. You have to leave immediately.”

“What? What Hollow?”

“Here.” Janus shoves the hilt of his sword into Virgil’s hand. “Take my sword.”

“Wh--No! I can’t leave you all in the middle of a battle!”

“You have to!” Janus snaps, and Virgil falters under the intensity in the adviser’s eyes. “The real battle--the one that will decide the fate of everyone in this kingdom--can only be fought in the Hollow, and only by you.” 

“What are you talking about?”

Janus grabs both of Virgil’s shoulders. “There’s a prophecy your brother has been hiding from you. You have to go to the Hollow. Once you get there--”

“Look out!” a voice barks.

Janus’s head snaps to the side before he gives Virgil a hard shove, sending the prince staggering back. A tree root slams into the wall, precisely where Virgil had just been standing.

“Janus!”

“Go!” Janus shouts sharply over the clamor of the raging battle around them. “Get to the Hollow!”

Virgil runs, not noticing the vegetation shrinking back into the cracks in the floor as he races towards the Forest. 

…

Hours later, Virgil is beginning to think that the Forest must hate him personally. If it’s true, the feeling is very much mutual. The Forest is dense with trees that leave long, lurking shadows on the damp floor. Virgil climbs over a particularly large tree root, hissing in pain as a thorn catches his shoulder.

“Great,” he snaps sarcastically. “You know, you go through all this trouble of getting me to come to you what with the weird dreams and then attacking during my birthday party--which, between you and me, I didn’t really mind the interruption, though I could have done without the violence--so you’d think maybe you could extend a little hospitality.” Virgil waits as if the Forest might actually respond to him. The chirp of insects and distant song of birds is the only answer the Forest offers. 

“Of course not,” Virgil mutters. “I don’t know what I expected. You’re a monster-infested forest.”

Or in the very least, that’s what the rumors had always said. Virgil wonders if that might have been an old wives’ tale, passed on through the thousand or so years since the Curse first started to convince children to steer clear. Just because Virgil had heard his whole life that monsters lurked in the Forest’s shadows didn’t mean it was actually true, right?

Right.

Virgil sighs and yanks the map Janus had shoved at him out of his pocket. If the skull on the map was referencing the tree ahead of him whose branches vaguely resembled a skull, then--

A twig snaps behind him. 

Virgil freezes, his head snapping up. “Hello?” he calls, shoving the map back into his pocket and yanking his sword out of the scabbard. 

Nothing answers him. Wind rustles the leaves in the canopy above him. Virgil studies the trees and shadows around him. He can’t shake the vague feeling that he is being watched…

A distant buzzing interrupts his thoughts, and Virgil sees a dark blur rush towards him. He yelps, ducking his head and slashing blindly with the sword. When he looks, Virgil chokes. In front of him, buzzing loudly as it hovers a couple of feet in the air, is a giant hornet--nearly Virgil’s size. 

“Look,” Virgil says to it. “My brother always says to avoid violence, but the last few hours has been the culminating impact of years of frustrations, so my patience really isn’t up for--”

The hornet dives for him, and Virgil slashes at it, clipping its side. He narrowly dodges its stinger, slashing again. Virgil’s arms are suddenly coated in a dark, viscous spray of black blood. The giant hornet falls to the ground at Virgil’s feet.

He releases a breath, grimacing against the acrid smell of monster blood that stings his nostrils. His heartbeat is still thudding in his ears, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He just slayed his first monster. A relieved smile tugs at the corner of Virgil’s mouth. He wonders briefly if Patton would be proud of him or horrified. He tries not to think too long about it.

“Not too bad for a--whoa!” Virgil steps back and immediately finds himself falling through the forest floor. 

He lands hard and takes a moment to blink stars from his spinning vision. With a grunt of effort, Virgil pushes himself up into a sitting position. The air around him smells… sweet and oddly familiar. On the ground beneath him is loose dirt and a carpet of white and pink mushrooms. A few bright green vines helped to cushion Virgil’s fall. A quick glance around also tells Virgil that he didn’t just fall into a hole--he fell into some sort of underground tunnel that continued on to his left.

He takes in another breath and feels the tension bleed out of his shoulders. It smells like… like Patton’s fresh-baked cookies on a rainy day and… was that his mother’s perfume? Virgil had never really been able to remember his mother’s face, but he remembers the scent the instant he inhales. He suddenly has the near overwhelming desire to curl up and sleep as the syrupy feeling of warm comfort spreads through his chest.

Maybe Virgil could just live here instead of… of… how did he get here again?

“Oh darling!” calls a soft, honey voice and for the briefest moment, Virgil wonders if it’s his mother. He dismisses the idea almost immediately. That isn’t possible.

“Wh--” Virgil’s tongue feels slow, his thoughts shifting through a molasses-sweet haze. “Who said that?”

“I did,” the voice echoes back, melodic and sweet. “Are you my darling?”

“I mean, maybe,” Virgil slurs, blinking owlishly at his surroundings. “I could be someone’s darling.”

“Where are you, darling?”

Virgil squints up at the hole he’d fallen through. “I’m at the bottom of a pit. Where are you?”

“I’m here too, just a bit further in. Come find me, darling.”

Virgil glances over to his left and sees a prick of light down the dark tunnel. Something in his chest tugs, urging, towards it. Virgil pushes himself to his feet, sliding his sword into the scabbard at his hip (why did he have it out to begin with?) and rushes down the tunnel, tripping over stray roots and the increasingly thick network of green vines. As he grows closer to the light, the smell of cookies and his mother’s perfume grows thicker and heavier. He can feel the way it clings to his thoughts in his mind, sticky like melted candy.

The tunnel opens up into a small cavern overrun with moss and flowers. Vines wrap up dirt walls, sprouting flowers of different sizes and colors so bright Virgil squints against the sudden onslaught on his vision. At the center of the clearing is a feminine figure--green skin and green hair that look almost like vines themselves. She turns towards Virgil as he steps into the clearing, her face brightening so much that Virgil almost doesn’t notice that her eyes are bright red like the flowers that dot her arms. 

“There you are, my darling. I’ve been waiting so long for you.”

Virgil frowns, his brow creasing. “I’m sorry.”

She giggles, light and delighted. “Oh, that’s all right. What’s important is that you are here now. What’s your name?”

He… can’t remember. It starts with a V, doesn’t it? “V-V...Virgil. Yeah, that’s it. My name is Virgil. What’s your name?”

The woman floats closer. “My name is Flora. I’m the goddess of love.”

Her voice sounds like a music box, soft and lilting. Virgil wants to curl up and use her voice as a blanket. “Where… where am I?”

“This? Why this is the Garden of Delight. You needn’t worry about anything ever again.”

A soft, warm feeling squeezes around Virgil’s chest and it reminds him, distantly, of Patton’s hugs. “That… that sounds nice…” 

The woman hums, stepping closer. The dress she wears seems to shimmer, like it had been spun from spider silk and dripped with dew. It did feel rather humid in here, now that Virgil thinks about it. Virgil feels an unusual draw to her, but as he goes to take another step, he finds his feet don’t move. Confused, he glances down. Green vines have snaked around his ankles, locking him in place.

“What--”

“My darling,” the woman purrs, moving closer. “Virgil is a beautiful name. You’ll stay here with me, won’t you? Forever?”

Something about that sounds extremely tempting, and Virgil had the vague sense that it had something to do with the lingering sweetness in the air that reminded Virgil of when he was a child. When things felt easier. Simpler. But he… couldn’t stay, right? He… he was supposed to be going somewhere…

“I… I can’t,” Virgil says, beginning to wonder why it’s so hard to just think right now… “I’m supposed to… um… there’s something I’m… I gotta get to the, uh… I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?” He can feel the vines snaking up his legs, wrapping around his waist and anchoring his wrists to his hips.

He feels like his brain is fighting through gelatin. 

“If you could uh, let me go?” he asks.

The woman smiles again, but Virgil swears it’s a row of sharp, pointed fangs that he hadn’t seemed to notice a moment ago. “But you only just got here.”

Virgil tries to wrestle his arms out of the net of vines but they only constrict tighter. He wheezes a cough as the vice-like grip forces some air from his lungs. “Yeah, I know, but--”

“Nobody leaves the Garden of Delight, darling.”

“I just really--”

“They stay here forever.”

“I really gotta--”

“You’re not going anywhere,” the woman growls, with something that definitely isn’t human edged sharply within the words. 

Virgil jerks away. “You’re not a goddess.”

“No,” she agrees, grinning wickedly. “And it’s been ages since I’ve had a meal as large and scrumptious as you.”

Virgil thrashes, but he’s held fast by the vines that are only getting tighter. “Let me go!” This is how he’s going to die, isn’t it? He’s such an idiot. “Don’t!” he shouts, though he knows it’s fruitless. There’s nobody around to hear him. Not for miles. How could he have been so stupid--

“That’s enough, fiend!” A new voice, a rich baritone, shouts from the cavern entrance. Virgil tries to crane his neck to look behind him but he only gets a flash of red, white, and gold before the monster in front of him hisses with a flash of pointed teeth.

Through his haze of muddied thoughts, it’s hard for Virgil to follow exactly what happens next. But there’s a glint of silver out of the corner of his eye and the creature before him shrieks in pain and anger. The constricting grip around him slackens suddenly and Virgil shrugs out of the plant cocoon that had been ensnaring him. 

He whirls around and sees a boy in a dirtied white prince suit jacket and a red sash across his chest. His dark brown hair falls across his forehead, and his dark eyes are intense with urgency. 

“Who are you?” Virgil asks.

“Go back the way you came,” he says instead of answering the question. “You’ll find a rope that you can climb to the surface. I’m going to take care of this overgrown fly-trap.” 

“Wait--”

The monster shrieks, her enraged scream echoing in the room. “I’m going to destroy you, you filthy, egotistical human!”

“Funny,” the boy shoots back, “because I was about to say the same thing about you.”

The monster lunges, and Virgil instinctively throws up an arm in front of his face to protect himself. The other boy snarls and slashes with the sword in his hands with expert precision. Virgil can’t help but be impressed. He’s certain that he never has looked that comfortable with a sword in his hands in his entire life. 

The scream from the monster cuts out abruptly as the other boy lodges the blade inside of her. She falls, disintegrating into a pile of dirt and vines. The boy wipes the back of his hand across his brow and arcs an eyebrow at Virgil. 

He motions to the cavern entrance. “After you.”

….

Virgil sighs as he pulls himself up over the ledge and back onto the forest floor. He never thought he’d be happy to see the Forest again, but he can’t deny the odd rush of relief. Anything was better than sharp fangs flashing in front of his face. 

“That… was intense,” he says as he hears the boy behind him pull himself up and start untying the rope from around the nearby tree he’d used as an anchor. “What was that thing?”

The boy pauses thoughtfully. Sunlight filters in through the leaves of the canopy above them and they make the boy’s dark eyes sparkle a bit. “I don’t know what they’re called, but the Forest is full of them.”

“Huh. Well, it’s a good thing you came along, I guess.” Virgil rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Thank you for rescuing me, and for being so beautiful.” Virgil freezes.

So does the other boy, his gaze flashing over and his brow furrowing. “What?”

“Brave!” Virgil blurts and has to stop himself from cringing at his own lack of a filter. He wasn’t usually this clumsy. “Thank you for being so brave. Not beautiful. Wow.” He laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know why I said that. I think some of the toxins must still be messing with my head, y’know? Making me say crazy things. It’s not like I think you’re beautiful.”

The boy’s frown deepens and Virgil holds up his hands. “Not that I think you’re ugly! I mean, obviously you’re not ugly. Like, if you put a sword to my head and said are you attractive or ugly, obviously I’d have to go with attractive because objectively that’s just a fact--” Oh my God, Virgil, stop talking--“but it’s not like you’re so attractive I can’t stop looking at you or anything. Am I talking a lot? I feel like I’m talking a lot.”

“You are,” the boy replies absently, his gaze narrowing at something off in the distance. Virgil is oddly relieved to get the sense that he stopped listening a while ago. 

“Right. So uh, I’m trying to say thank you.” Virgil takes a deep breath, trying to slow his still-racing thoughts and pounding heart. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve been following you.” It’s only then that Virgil realizes the boy hadn’t been untying the rope from the tree--he’d been securing it more firmly. 

“What? You’ve been following me?” He watches as the other boy loops the rope over the tree branch, then makes a lasso with the loose end in his hands. “Um, what’s the lasso for?”

“I have some questions,” he answers, his gaze narrowing. “And since I don’t know you nor do I trust you, I thought you might be more inclined to answer them if you’re dangling from a tree.” 

“Oh,” Virgil says before it sinks in. “Wait, what--Hey!” Before he can stop it, the boy lasso’s Virgil’s waist and pulls, and Virgil sees the world spin violently before he’s staring dizzily at the boy upside down. “Let me down!”

The boy crosses his arms over his chest. “Now then. Who are you and what are you doing in this Forest?”

Virgil’s fingers twitch for his sword, but he figures he’d be about as likely to poke his own eye out than cut himself down. And even then, what would happen? He’d seen the boy face off with the forest monster and he’d sliced her like it was nothing with barely a flick of his wrist. Virgil couldn’t very well fight this boy. And besides, he doesn’t really want to. 

“Me? Just--I’m nobody. I���m just walking through.”

The boy scoffs and shakes his head. He waves a hand at him. “Your clothes are filthy but clearly Western from the design and fabric choices. And your sword carries the insignia of the royal family.” His gaze darkens then, and he takes a step closer. Virgil watches the way his grip on the sword flexes in preparation. “Do you work for them?”

“No!” he says immediately. “No, I--I don’t. No royal family for me.” 

“You’re alone then? You aren’t traveling with any member of the royal family?”

“No, definitely not.”

The boy studies him for a moment before he seems satisfied with the answer. “My apologies. You can never be too careful. Especially in this Forest.”

Virgil finds himself nodding despite the wave of confusion the comment brings. He just wants to get out of this in one piece. “No, of course.” 

The boy slides his sword into the scabbard at his hip. “My name is Roman. Prince of the East. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

“Uh, not really?”

“The younger brother of King Thomas? Heir to the Polished Throne. Defender of the Perished Realm.”

Virgil sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Sorry.”

“Vanquisher of the Dragon Witch. Protector of the Sacred Flame. Champion of the Hero’s Forge.”

This is ridiculous, Virgil thinks. He arcs an eyebrow. “What was that last one?”

Something sparks in Roman’s eyes, and he places his hands on his hips as if posing for a portrait. “Champion of the Hero’s Forge?”

Virgil does take a second to wrack his memory, wondering if maybe he had read something about any of the ridiculous titles Roman had just rattled off, but nothing rings a bell. “Champion of the--no, sorry.”

Roman seems to deflate, his hands falling from his hips. “Really?”

He knows he shouldn’t--the boy is dangling him from a tree for crying out loud--but Virgil does feel a little bad for him. His ridiculous batch of titles notwithstanding. “We just don’t hear much about you guys in the West. Honestly, we weren’t even sure there was anyone left in the East. We’d sort of assumed the Forest had finished you all off.”

Which, now that Virgil thought about it, he honestly wasn’t sure if that was simply a misguided belief or another intentional deception to further obscure the truth about this Forest and the Curse from Virgil. Then again, Virgil thinks, Patton may have made a lot of mistakes, but he didn’t think willful deception like that was really Patton’s preferred method. He tended to just avoid things.

The most Virgil had heard about the East Kingdom had been in history books, scribbled in the margins of notebooks. From what Virgil’s been able to gather, the two kingdoms had gone to war ages ago. Virgil couldn’t figure out why, exactly, or even a direct timeline. He assumed it must have been thousands of years ago; so long that the true reason for the feud had been lost to history.

“Hm,” Roman says, his brows pinching together.

“But,” Virgil adds, “it’s nice to meet you, I guess. I’ve never met anyone from the East before. Honestly, I don’t even really know why we were at war with you. So like, maybe you could cut me down now?”

Roman’s careful, scrutinizing gaze sweeps over Virgil. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword. “You still haven’t told me who you are or what you’re doing in this Forest.”

Virgil’s thoughts trip over each other. He can’t very well give his real name--not when the boy had looked almost murderous when he asked about the royal family. He wracks his head for some kind of alternative. “My name is, um, Anxiety.” 

Roman blinks at him. “Anxiety?”

Virgil could kick himself. Of course that was a stupid answer. “Uh, yeah. That’s--that’s what everyone calls me, anyway. Not that I know a lot of people. I, um, live here. In the Forest. Alone.”

“You live in the Forbidden Forest?” Roman arcs a skeptical eyebrow. 

Virgil silently curses to himself. He’s really not that well-practiced in lying. He didn’t like it, generally. In his experience, it tended to just make things worse. But he could almost hear Janus’s voice in his head, telling him that lying to preserve his safety was preferred to getting hurt. 

“Yeah. I’m uh, on the run. From the royal family in the West.” That was… at least somewhat true?

“Why?”

The memories from yesterday morning flash through his mind. “I’m a thief.” Also kind of true.

“A thief.”

“Yes,” Virgil confirms. “How else do you think I got this sword with the royal insignia on it?” Virgil hopes silently and fervently that Roman’s unexplained contempt for the royal family would work in his favor here.

Roman scoffs. “Great,” he mutters, mostly to himself though loud enough for Virgil to hear, “Just what I need. A vagabond with no sense of honor. Fine. The Forest can deal with you.” He turns his back and starts walking away.

“Wait!” Virgil calls out. “Where are you going? You can’t just leave me here.”

Roman turns back to him, crossing back the short distance. “What I can’t do is have a confessed criminal traipsing around the Forest.” He waves a hand to gesture around them. 

So apparently his contempt did not outweigh his morals. Virgil has the vague thought that Patton would approve of that, if nothing else. “You misunderstood,” Virgil stammers hurriedly. “When I said thief, I meant like a… a…” What was that story Patton used to read to him when they were kids? “Robin Hood kind of deal. You know, steal from the rich, feed the poor. That’s why the royal family hates me. I’m like a, um, hero.”

Roman’s brows shoot up in surprise. “A hero?”

“In a looser sense of the word--”

“How long have you been hiding in this forest?”

“Wh--oh. Years. Like… forever.” Virgil is starting to get a headache from the blood still rushing to his head. 

Roman looks unimpressed. “Yet you nearly got killed by a talking plant moments ago because you stumbled blindly into her lair.”

“Yes,” Virgil says, unable to disagree with that point when they both had been there and Roman had been following him, apparently. “But that’s the first time that’s ever happened.” True. “Which, if you think about it, is sort of a point in my favor, right?”

“Hm.” Roman purses his lips before yanking the sword out of his scabbard. Virgil flinches as it flashes in the sunlight, but there’s the sound of snapping rope and Virgil lands clumsily on the forest floor. The sudden headrush makes spots dance across his vision and Virgil blinks to clear them away.

“Warn a dude, next time?” Virgil grumbles.

“I’ll make you a deal, Robin Brood,” Roman announces, ignoring the comment. 

“You can call me Anxiety.”

“My first night in the Forest,” Roman presses on, “my horse got spooked and ran off with my map. Since then, I’ve been--”

“Completely lost?”

“In need of direction.” He points his sword towards Virgil with ease, like it’s an extension of his arm. “If you can take me where I need to go, I promise to spare your life and let you go at the end of our journey.”

That… seems fair to Virgil. He’d take this prince guy on a little side quest, and then he’d be able to rush to the Hollow shortly thereafter. A little detour should be fine, right? “Uh, sure. Yeah. I guess. Where do you need to go?”

“The Hollow of the Kings,” Roman answers as Virgil pushes himself to his feet. 

Virgil freezes, his brow furrowing. “Uh, sure. Yeah. But why do you need to go there?”

“That is none of your business. Do we have a deal or should I get my rope?”

Virgil holds his hands up in surrender. “No, sure. Yeah. I’ll take you to the Hollow.”

Roman crosses over to a heavy-looking bag and picks it up. “Now that you work for me, you’ll carry my things.” He shoves the bag into Virgil’s arms. Virgil staggers under the sudden weight, cursing under his breath.

“Yeah, no problem, buddy,” he quips sarcastically, adjusting his hold on the bag to more easily manage the weight. 

“Don’t call me buddy.”

“You got it, boss.” Virgil tries to hide a smirk. He couldn’t explain why, but there was something a little fun about teasing the other prince. 

“Your Royal Highness is fine,” Roman replies without a shred of irony.

Virgil snorts. “All right, Princey.”

Roman scowls. “Also, please only speak when spoken to. You talk a lot, and it’s beginning to give me a headache.”

Virgil arcs an eyebrow. His ears are still ringing from the headrush. “I’m giving you a headache?”

“Yes. Also--”

“Oh my God, how many rules do you have?”

Roman whirls around and Virgil finds the tip of his sword poised just below his chin. Roman’s expression darkens. “If I find out you’ve been lying to me about anything, I will feed you to the nearest plant. Got it?”

Virgil swallows. “Got it.”

“Great!” he says brightly, sheathing his sword once more. “Then onward we travel. Lead me to the Hollow, Robin Mood.”

“Same joke.”

“It was a variation.”

...

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff, @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, @theburntesttoast, @monroig, @secretlyawyvern, @puddinglec4t, @give-me-a-minute-to-think, @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear

#sanders sides #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #prinxiety fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #stealing #lying #violence #blood #heed warnings #the two princes #ttpp #the two princes podcast #fanfic

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Destiel shippers come get ya’ll juice!

SO @deadwright​ and I were inspired by Some Tumblr Posts and the twitter Roadhouse  Wedding stuff and keep writing headcanons about Thee Destiel 2021 Married Ever After S16 SPN Romantic Event Of The Season, so here’s that. 

Arranged in order of marital chronology and cutting out us keysmashing too much:

oh man imagine all the burgers they get catered for the reception dean got it done himself he would’ve been so particular about the catering bridezilla cas would probably be THEE bitchiest bridezilla

it's also definitely that trope where all the other hunters ect KNOW that that many of them and the wedding party are essentially a target for trouble so everyone spends the 24 hours leading up to the vows taking out every beastie who shows up on a revenge kick out of sight because they'll be damned if they let ANYTHING stop this wedding and Dean and cas are both having their marital jitters oh god im not good enough what if something goes wrong about mundane things while monsters are getting their ass kicked outside AWWWWWWWW for sure for sure, they’re hunter royalty this wedding is a big deal like half the attendees are nursing injuries but grinning widely

they don't do the can't see eachother before the wedding thing because you KNOW dean would be fixing cas' tie last minute

dean wears a blue pocket square to match cas' tie cas wears a FLANNEL SQUARE

I’m obsessed w the idea of cas giving dean a little bit of his grace in a small bottle on a chain for him to wear or like a wing feather or some part of him god the grace in a bottle breaks me every time in fic dean probably builds cas something but every time i try to think of something specific i choke up

i was thinking like what if trading grace is as close to a romantic gesture as angels have and he's like..... technically i left some grace behind in your mark when i dragged you from the pit and dean is like ARE YOU SAYING WE'VE BEEN MARRIED THIS WHOLE TIME? 

they are so sweet i’m on the verge of tears the ability to do anything by halves in their relationship was burnt out by like the second return from the dead moment they are too insane to be anything less than All In And Then Some

at one point someone was like hey cas do you want to run your vows by someone as practice? and he started reading what he'd prepared and it devolved into Biblically Grand Statements Of The Power Of Love And The Redemption Of - ect ect ect and it's because unlike the confession scene he's had TOO much preparation and overshot into uncanny angelic vibes he makes some edits because he know the expressions he gets when he reads it aren't what he intended

dean writes page after page after page of unused drafts, none of them are particularly floral

he does the cliche of ripping up his vows and improvising at the altar, something he gets mercilessly teased for because he swore he wouldn't but it classifies as a chick flick moment

THAT’S SO PEAK HIM OH MY GOD and you knoooooow you just KNOW it’s beautiful and emotional and everyone is crying

god the NOVELTY of dean being emotionally honest in front of people......im gonna faint YEA yeah... ONE TIME ONLY DEAL he thinks loudly at Sam's smug expression

anyway, at the wedding dean is the one who spends the whole ceremony with like crying cat meme eyes after the confession scene i’m pretty sure the minute the vows start cas is in the same boat USELESS HUSBANDS dean gets passed a handkerchief for his tears and immediately goes to use it on cas' face and they both laugh sob love the idea that everyone individually thought they were too tough to cry but they all broke at various stages yeah sam definitely starts to choke up just standing up there with his brother sam chokes up before the ceremony even started, like probably when he was pinning on dean’s corsage

anyway, Jack dancing with his two dads at the reception CAS’ BEST MAN / FLOWER BOY FLOWER MAN let him heelie down the aisle with the flowers LITTLE MAN GO NYOOM who makes him a little flower crown he wears with a proud lil smile? claire ofc, with those hair braiding skills? she makes it BEAUTIFUL flower crown: on nails: painted dads: MARRIED!!!!

when they say i do and kiss and everyone is cheering you can't convince me that someone doesn't let off what is either a gun or a dubiously legal firework in celebration jack pops a few lightbulbs in his uncontrollable joy

Dean and Cas can't let go of each other, it's at LEAST one point of physical contact for the rest of the reception PERIODT

CAN YOU IMAGINE THEM DANCING TO AIR SUPPLY

they definitely didn't do the wedding gifts thing but a few mysteriously show up anyway; discuss waffle iron from sam bc he remembers the becky incident meanwhile claire gets them flavoured lube because she’s an insane little mean girl she gets them a sampler package with like novelty flavours, gotta spring extra for a wedding PIE FLAVOURED LUBE

it’s gonna be the party of the century omfg you KNOW it! that dancefloor going OFF the BAR is FLOWING

dean gets dragged up onto the bar to make a speech and there's a moment at the end where he drags cas up there too and they're being playfully yelled at not to scuff it and there's hooting and catcalls as dean and cas kiss and dean gestures rudely before almost falling backwards off the bar before cas grabs him and climbing down is less romantic or dignified but he couldn't care if he wanted to

meanwhile sam and claire are outside defacing the impala with silly string and lewd graffiti and tin cans tied to the bumper for the going-away oh it is one hundo percent a just married atrocity there's enough condoms hidden in the car that they're still finding them months later

anyway wanna hear my disgustingly soppy honeymoon roadtrip concept? YOU KNOW I DO OKAY SO

you know at some point dean must have said some sad thing like for the longest time he never thought he'd live long enough to get married and the only circumstances he could imagine was hooking up drunkenly with a stranger at some vegas wedding scenario like that's the best he would ever get and he thinks it's mostly forgotten but then during their cross country honeymoon roadtrip castiel does in fact navigate them to las vegas and quietly mutters that the legal veracity of the little chapel on the city limits is dubious at best and they're already married so it couldn't do any harm and they get officiated by an elvis impersonator and a woman wearing more sequins than fabric throws cheap confetti over them

and after that they stop into every venue they can find that would be friendly to them to pretend they're eloping and at one point dean even pulls out the fbi id badges and the officiant is under the impression he's facilitating some sort of covert workplace romance 

one place is a kitchy little house that's clearly just the couple who run it opening their strange home to anyone who needs it and have been since the 70s and Castiel thinks for a moment when they're asked to pin something to the collection of stuff on the walls and ceiling before pulling the receipt for the pie they'd shared earlier in a dinner out and scrawling his and dean's name on it to be added to the clutter 

and at one point they stand ankle deep in a pond while some old hippie lady wraps their clasped hands together with soft fabric and chants something that dean knows isn't real magic but hey he's not going to tell her that and after the ceremony they sit on the grass and feed each other sweet bread to complete the binding or whatever and it's nice but it doesn't compare to the ranch where they both tossed their cowboy hats in the air and were given a horse to ride to their camp site

i thought about riverboat gambling for point one seconds and now i know in my bones that one of their many weddings was on a riverboat, they made the captain officiate after cornering him on deck in like five minutes, the crew sent them complimentary champagne and they threw fries at the birds following the boat while sharing it straight out of the bottle

if destiel can go canon multiple times they can get married multiple times CHANGE MY MIND THEY GET MARRIED SO MUCH the MOST married i just want them to get gay cowboy married

eventually i want them to end up at the beach bc dean has canonically never been to the coast their road trip is to get to the other coast

they send just married postcards back to sam from every stop sam stops feeling hurt he was left out of their vegas elopement wedding by the third wedding postcard he recieves sam saves them ofc bc GOD can you imagine them looking at the postcards on their 30th anniversary or s/t 🥺 showing their grandkids and recounting the story of each wedding there's a seashell taped to the last one

cas gets a terrible sunglasses tan and dean gets burnt on the tips of his ears and there's sand on sand on sand in all their clothes and at one point dean is blinking away salt water and cas is gripping his arm and saying something about the coral by them in the water and dean thinks that he likes floating beside cas a lot better than flying

dean has cas pick ice cream for them from a truck and hustles at carnival games enough to win them both big novelty foam hats and they both go back to their room and pass out immediately post shower sprawled across the bed and still smelling like sunscreen and salt water

dean tucks a little cocktail umbrella behind cas’ ear

cas spends most of the next day in dean's zepplin shirt and a pair of shorts they only picked up once they got there because neither of them thought to bring beach clothes, they sit on the balcony and dean sips his beer and idly plays with the ring on cas' finger and they play a game of what fictional monsters could they beat in a fight

cas’ true form is the size of the chrysler building he can fight king kong easy that's what he says and dean's like okay but what about mothra and castiel is like how would YOU defeat mothra and dean just goes "bugspray." GDJSGSHSGSHDSJ DEAN WOULD

in honour of misha putting his whole pussy into the role, cas wears a dress in at least one of their weddings

it's at one of those theme parks that's just historical re-enactments and people get their vows renewed there and there's costumes for the photobooth and the staff are like how long have you been married? castiel says two weeks, three days, eighteen hours, and twenty five minutes................ approximately.  and the photo is cas in a classical wedding gown and dean is wearing the veil with his old timey suit and there's a moose head on the wall behind them wearing the top hat he was given and they send that print with an arrow pointing at the moose with sam written next to it

i keep thinking bitch!!!! you KNOW WHAT!! you KNOW that dean is the type a guy who's heart races every time he feels his wedding ring/is always fiddling with it in the weeks after the wedding, like an anchor to remind him they really got married this is real he would NEED that physical reminder that he can have good things

he’s never ever going to take it off, the tan line will be permanent

how funny it would be if dean gets injured on a hunt and the monster guy is about to kill him and then the lights blow out and the monsters are like what was that and dean is just like "[spits blood] that's my husband." and nek minnit cas has just ripped through them thanks to teleporting in angel style and is just like Cas: [heals dean] "you're late for movie night" Dean: "Well if you'd gotten here earlier i would have been on time." Cas: >:| [kisses him]

cas is like i didn’t burn the popcorn this time you BETTER be alive to see it

#destiel #supernatural #long post #supernatural season 16 #twitter roadhouse wedding about to pop OFF #destiel wedding #deancas

[sleep-i-ness]

*Let Bygones Be Bitches (Klaus Hargreeves x reader)

For @the--sad--hatter​‘s Tea Party Challenge

**TRIGGER WARNING**: Substance abuse, mentions of overdose, probably swearing, glamourisation of drugs

I’m not really sure where I went with this. I also haven’t edited it but it’s something I wrote a while back for this challenge and I realised the deadline is tomorrow so I banged out the ending :)

Taglist: @neymarlionelmessi7​ @persephonehemingway​ @blisfvll​ @20coldhearts​

There was something so exhilaratingly freeing about drugs. No one had ever talked to you about that, school had drilled into you the terrible effects of them but as you fell into harder and harder drugs, that had been the last thing from your mind. Really, what you blamed was society. Drugs were only seen as bad if you were poor, if you were a junkie and homeless, or living in poverty. Never mind the upper classes who were almost always off their asses on cocaine; snorted off gold dishes and offered around at social gatherings. Your parents certainly had seen no problems in them; most of your childhood they were high, living life as carefree as possible. Who cared if they had a kid to look after? Well, that was what nannies were for. And you craved their attention. Their approval. So, you acted out more and more, getting kicked out of one posh private school after the other with nothing more than a warning letter from your father each time.

And so, drugs had ended up becoming an escape rather than the rebellion you had hoped to lead against the careless lifestyle of the rich. The schmoozing amongst those of your ‘kind’ was done over lines of cocaine and ever-flowing bottles of champagne, never sober enough to have to remember enduring pointless small talk. Life was too fun to bother with formalities, you and the reckless debutantes and bachelors of your age were jumping off roofs into pools and committing arson instead. And when you reached the ripe age of 21, you moved back to your childhood home, surrounded by staff and peers just like yourself, but no one who really cared. Your parents weren’t frugal to say the least, and your allowance grew each time you reached the limit. It was almost like a challenge to see how much you could spend in a month. It wasn’t like you were anywhere near close to running out.

Your town was almost a cultural phenomenon, known for being the residence of the Umbrella Academy, back in the days when they were actually a team. Not just one pitiful member left to sort out the messes by himself. You weren’t sure what had happened to anyone other than Allison, who had launched herself into super-stardom and therefore was constantly a topic of gossip when local drama was dull. Tonight, you had agreed to host your ‘friends’, who were bringing a few of their friends and you knew the place would be wrecked by the end of the night. You wished you could pretend to care about the priceless antiques and expensive imported furniture, but it was all just stuff. Stuff that could easily be replaced. It didn’t truly matter.

You awoke the next day under blinding light in an unrecognisable room, blank white walls glaringly painful. You weren’t at home, that was for sure, nowhere was decorated this hideously at home. As your vision swam into focus, you saw the IV drip hooked up to your arm and heart monitor beeping steadily. Oh fuck, you were in the hospital again. And they hadn’t even bothered to put you in your family’s private suite; you were sure to be making a complaint as soon as you got out.

“Oh good, Miss Y/L/N, you’re awake.” A nurse bustled over, and you bit back the remark that was on the tip of the tongue. You were so sure that nurses were meant to be female, but clearly not in this case. “You were brought in last night, having had a seizure with a dangerously high body temperature and heart rate.”

Oh, that would be the effects of a cocaine overdose. You knew enough about them, having both experienced them first-hand and seen others having them, to know the symptoms. You remained silent, knowing that your family’s private doctor would soon have you out of this dump in the more public area and away from prying eyes. Your parents had people working to ensure that any scandals would be hushed up, so you assumed that this was just a blip before they set you up in a place a bit more suited to your wealth.

“How are you feeling now?” The nurse asked, checking the monitor at the end of your bed, and noting down something on a clipboard.

“Absolutely wonderful,” you remarked dryly, voice hoarse, mouth dry as sandpaper.

“Good, good,” he muttered, placing the tatty clipboard back in the scratched plastic holder. Your upper lip curled; that did not look very sanitary.

The nurse strode out looking purposeful and you wondered what purpose he actually had considering that doctors were the ones who actually did any work.

As the plastic ticking of a clock and heavy breathing of the infirm filled the air, you rolled your eyes, feeling ill at the thought of all of the germs floating around you. The off-white paint was peeling in the corner, cracks running down the wall, disrupting blotchy yellow marks of discolouration. As your eyes roved over the disgusting state of the ward, the scuff marks on the blue linoleum floor caught your gaze and you held back a groan. Did they not clean the place?

“Hey,” a languid voice called from the bed next to you and you frowned, brows furrowing as you tried to figure out whether he was talking to you. “Hey, miss judgemental.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, don’t know your name.” His tone implied he didn’t even care, and you sneered, why had he even bothered to try and start a conversation? “Was I not meant to notice the disgusted looks you were giving the ward?”

“Do I know you?” He clearly wasn’t somebody you would have mixed with, eyes ringed with the remnants of a couple day’s old eyeliner and hair mussed up, strands sticking up in various directions. But there was still something that made you hesitate.

“I’m Klaus.” Klaus… That was a Scandinavian name, right? Maybe he was related to the Bengtsson twins.

“I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You waited for the expected exclamation of awe or some form of recognition at least. There was nothing and you snuck a peek at Klaus who had merely raised an eyebrow.

“Y/L/N?” He seemed to be trying to recall something from deep in the dregs of his memory, eyes fluttering shut. “Hang on, wasn’t there a kidnapping? Something about a ransom that wasn’t paid?”

You froze.

There had been so many lawsuits and pulling of strings to ensure that that story never came out.

“How the hell do you know about that?” You hissed lowly, glancing around at the other patients who seemed fast asleep or too deaf to hear anything.

Klaus raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, taken aback at your reaction. “What do you mean?”

“No one knows about that. No one.”

“Well, I do.” Clearly. Your breathing had sped up and your head felt light. It was all over. You were safe. You were okay. They weren’t here. Goddamn it, why wasn’t it working! The sudden bolt of anger flashed through the fog, but you were too numb to process it.

Klaus had pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, and eyebrows furrowed. Your brain marked that it was an amusing expression. “Hey, Y/N, just breathe with me, okay? Breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, hold for 1, 2, 3, breathe out for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.”

You followed his counting, eyes squeezed shut as your ears focused in on his voice. The bustle of hospital eased out as your breathing filled your thoughts. Every breath was forced out, long but shallow as your heart pounded in your head, the beat deafening.

You gasped, suddenly realising where you knew him from. “Klaus… Hargreeves? You were there. That’s why you know.”

The crisp, starchy sheets were clean under your grip, crinkling between your fingers as you clenched your hands subconsciously. Leaning closer to him to watch his response, he nodded slowly, head slowly lifting to make eye contact. A mask had dropped, eyes showing something a lot more vulnerable.

“Yeah. That one was one of the worst.”

“I’m sorry.”

It was your fault. And you’d thought the only one affected was you.

“Parents, right?” Klaus murmured, propping himself up on one arm as he continued to watch you.

Your parents hadn’t even cared. They hadn’t bothered to pay the ransom. The kidnappers had slowly stopped bothering to even come visit you with food. Leaving you to slowly died. No one had cared.

And then the Umbrella Academy had turned up. And you’d had the hope rekindled that someone cared.

Your return to your parents had been a surprise, a ‘wonderful surprise’ as they claimed. And the hope has sunk, like a lead balloon as you realised that they hadn’t wanted you back.

“Yeah.” You nodded, knowing nothing needed to be said to explain it. “I feel like it might be a billionaire thing.”

Klaus hummed, rolling onto his back with a dramatic groan as he threw his arms into the air. He stretched out, limbs unfurling like a cat, lithe and supple. The crinkle of plastic caught your ear and you snapped your head towards him, just catching sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed quickly. He stretched out his arms and the plastic bag glinted in his hand. You grabbed it from him, gratefully swallowing the small blue pill inside.

“You know what, Klaus,” you paused, fiddling with the end of your sleeves. “I feel like we might be more similar than expected.”

He grinned, an almost maniacal twinkle in his eyes. “God, we’re such a cliché. Bonding over childhood trauma? Where’d we get that idea from? Some angsty YA novel?”

He snorted at his own joke and you couldn’t help but smile in response, noting the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the small dimples popping in his cheeks.

Hopefully, this would follow the cliché trope right to the happy ending.

#klaus #klaus hargreeves #tua klaus #tua #the umbrella academy #tua imagine #klaus x reader #klaus x you #klaus x y/n #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x you #klaus hargreeves x y/n

[aloesarchives]

Imai Cosmo Headcanons

Alright, now it's time for sunshine boy Cosmo. 

(Edit: I am so sorry, I accidentally deleted this for some reason. Sorry for the inconvenience) 

You met Cosmo when you both were first years in high school. You just recently transfer to his school in the beginning of the year for reasons not disclose(just move to Japan, came from a different school, etc.)

It was a hard time making friends because you were new and no one would approach you. But it didn’t stop Cosmo from wanting to be with your friend.

Cosmo is pretty much a social butterfly and is always friendly to everyone. When he said hi to you, the first thing you took notice was his bubbly personality. After that encounter, Cosmo actually made it his goal to be your friend. Everyday at school, he would always talk to you when he has the chance. And during after school you two would hang out together whether it be eating out or looking at the latest version of some Martial Arts magazine.

Thanks to the time you have been spending with him, he’s one of your closest friends you have. It’s kinda known around the school that you two always hang out with each other.

You also come over to his house to tutor Cosmo b/c he wasn’t doing so well in math so you had to help out a homie. You did have some encounters with his brother, Meteor. You get along with him as the two of you share the struggle of taking care of Cosmo.

Cosmo’s enthusiasm is contagious and even when you kinda hit your lowest Cosmo’s vibe just somehow revives you and you smile once again.  

Cosmo’s energy is so bright and powerful that you feel like you’re standing in the presence of the sun and you need some goddamn visors to look because he’s just pure and happy all the time that it hurts your entire being. But it’s in a good way, sis.

Throughout the time you spent with Cosmo, you notice that every once in a while that he would have a bruise or a bandage on his face or arm when he wears his short sleeve shirt. Come to think of it, Cosmo somehow has some sort of injury that can’t be explained in normal terms. Even when you ask Cosmo when he gets his injuries and small scuffs, he’ll just brush it off with an excuse that wouldn’t add up or make sense to the injury. But again you don’t push it since when you try to press on the issue that Cosmo switched the topic immediately and has completely forgotten about the conversation.

You did at one point remember that Cosmo did have a small rebellious stage but one day he stopped for some reason you don’t know about. But even so, it doesn’t calm your concerns of Cosmo’s random injuries.

In short, he’s really bad at hiding them and not making something obvious. But you being you, you didn’t push on the matter out of consideration.

Now that I mention that, you also notice Cosmo getting ripped and becoming more muscular. Cosmo actually lets you feel his arms and back when you ask him, he’s completely fine with it. Fam, no gonna lie, it has a nice feel to it.

(Y/N):Hey Cosmo, have you been working out lately? You’re back has been getting toned as of recently.

Cosmo: Actually yeah, I’ve been working out more nowadays. Do you want to feel my back, (Y/N)?

(Y/N): Sure, if you’re fine with it.

Cosmo: Go right ahead.

*Proceeds to feels Cosmo’s back

(Y/N): Woah! You’re pretty ripped, Cos!

There were some subtle hints that Cosmo had that kept being in your sight. Like his physical strength when the class would play volleyball, or doing those fitness test everyone has to take, he was somehow on the top on it. Or at least there was a far seeable gap than he was to you and the rest of the class.

You, for sure, know Cosmo is hiding something when Cosmo would turn you down to hang out because he had some business to do. What only push your suspicions was when you were walking home one day from school and a car past by you. Although it was a nice car and you didn’t really care for it, the thing that caught your eye was who was in it. You saw a tan man with cool shades driving the car and Cosmo was in the passenger seat next to him. As the car sped off, you stood still on the sidewalk, completely confused. You’ve seen that guy before when you would go to the gym, but you didn’t put any thought to it.

I mean you don’t to bug him about all of this because you don’t want to be nosy and pester him about it. But you know Cosmo isn’t gonna spill the beans anytime soon so you keep it to yourself.

God, I really, really like to headcanon that Kureshi is a distant uncle/relative of your’s that you’re somewhat close to. You don’t tell Cosmo right off the bat because you thought it wasn’t super important. All you tell him is that your uncle owns a gym and during after school sometimes you go there to train/exercise with him. Cosmo doesn't think much of it too since you didn’t make a big deal out of it. But he was curious on what gym your uncle runs and that at you one point you mentioned he was a fighter too.

The way you found out was pretty much very coincidental. While you were at the gym, your uncle aka Kureshi mentions to you that he took up a student and took him under his wing. This was odd for you because you never saw your uncle to be one to take up someone for training. When he mentions to you that the person he’s training is around the same age and goes to the same high school, you were intrigued by who it was. The week you found out about this was the same week that finals/ heavy testing was being held and so you wanted to distress by going to the gym. You asked Cosmo if he wanted to hang out 2 hours before you go to the gym but he said he was going to do training at a gym beforehand and had to turn down your offer. You were kind of bummed out but you couldn’t convince him otherwise so oh well. Upon going to the gym, you get a text from your uncle that his student came to train and asked if you wanted to meet him. You said why not and when upon arriving to the gym, your uncle greet you and took you to see his student who was dealing some good blows to one of the gym’s punching bags. Upon further inspection, the boy looked familiar, too familiar. Without thinking, you blurted out Cosmo’s name. After stopping his workout, he turn to you and the both of you had equally shocked faces while Kureshi was having a kick out of it. When you looked at your uncle and asked if he was his student, the answer was fairly obvious and you just stood there while trying to process all of this. When Cosmo asked you why you were there, you explained Kureshi and stuff. It was a awkward few minutes before you decided to change into your workout clothes and doing some training of your own. After you were done with your workout, you took a shower and changed into some casual clothes. You waited for Cosmo to be done and the two of you would head home together after bedding your uncle farewell.

Since you caught Cosmo training, he couldn’t really hid it from you anymore because you saw him there at the gym and he had a entirely different training regiment than the average person. You got the courage to ask him about what’s the training for while telling him your suspicions. Cosmo kinda went silent, which is unlike him to do so especially in your presences. Then Cosmo just spills everything to you, the training, the bruises, the times he had to decline your offers to hang out, he explained himself to you why he had to it. At the mention of Kengan Matches and underground fighting, you thought this was like fight club or something. But snapping out of your thoughts, you didn’t see Cosmo any less differently and told him that his secret is safe with you. Cosmo is grateful for you and that he’s glad you’re understanding.

One day, when Cosmo didn’t come to Kureshi’s gym, you asked your uncle how he meet Cosmo. He told you that Cosmo got into a fight with a few guys that had him on the ropes before he stepped in himself to save Cosmo. While at it, your uncle ask about your thoughts on Cosmo and his potential in fighting. When you answered with a Cosmo having untapped potential, Kureshi made a deal with you. He said he’ll allow you to watch Cosmo’s matches and cover your back when you parents ask about your whereabouts. In return, you have to help him train Cosmo and update him on his matches. You didn’t even think about it, you just took the deal and the rest is history.

Another time, you met Mr. Nishihonji while training Cosmo. Apparently he used to use this gym a while back. After learning he was Cosmo’s sponsor/ fighting for his company, you do remember Cosmo subtly mentioning him in your conversations in the past and now you meet him in the flesh. He made a good impression of himself to you and ever since then you’ve been chill with him. The man means well so he doesn’t really give off any bad vibe that you can tell.

Mr. Nishihonji has picked up the both of you from school when Cosmo has a match. Once school is over, you two would head over to where his car is and people from your school would just gawk because who knew the two of you were hanging out with a rich man with a nice car. This happens a lot where you kinda get use to it.

Your crush/love for Cosmo is built up over time and isn’t too obvious  that other people can catch on but people close to you can see something is up with you when your around Cosmo. When people ask you about it, you brush it off as simple friendship you have for him. People won’t push it but people like Kureshi and Mr. Nishihonji can piece things together to where they have an fundamental understanding that you really care about Cosmo.

Speaking of Kureshi, your uncle Kureshi loves to fucking tease you about you and Cosmo. He really gets a kick out of how you get all tsundere on him when he does. It’s like an inside joke you have with each other and it’s family love, that’s all.

You never confessed to Cosmo because you 1.) don’t want to ruin or make the friendship awkward, and 2.) you don’t think Cosmo feels the same way as he is oblivious to your small actions/hints towards him.

And by the way, Cosmo is fucking oblivious to everything unless pointed out by him. This sadly includes your feelings, sis. This is one of the things Cosmo needs you in his life because of this. He’s oblivious to the point where you had to point out or explain things to him when he doesn’t get it or it goes over his head.

But your feelings becomes evident when the Kengan tournament goes under way and that you were invited to go with him. You watch on the sidelines, with Mr. Nishihonji of course, Cosmo’s matches. You knew after his first match ended that this tournament was something else when you saw the line up and after Cosmo fainted into Mr. Nishihonji’s arms after exiting the pit. You knew that Cosmo was not going to have an easy time in his matches and he needed to know this. Although you have faith in Cosmo, it’s not impossible to remember that this isn’t a simple walk in the park.

After beating Adam, Adam kinda just became your friend instantly. Like after Cosmo convinced him, he just stuck around the two of you. Even though you hate what comes out of his mouth, Adam isn’t really a jerk and tries to unlearn the things he has said to the two of you. When Adam stays in Japan for training, he literally becomes you best friend/ brother at this point. Adam is probably the only person that actually caught on

But the thing that has been bothering you is Cosmo’s naivety. There’s nothing wrong with his happy go lucky attitude. It’s just, Cosmo doesn’t seem to be grounded a lot in certain situations where he’ll understand the dangers/risks that come with this. Especially when it came down to fighting. You do warn him of being careful and taking the fight seriously, but he just say don’t worry and not really mean it. You knew that this would be problem because Cosmo takes his fighting skills for granted. You love the man but wish he would understand how grave some matches could’ve been if he didn’t take them down sooner.

But that fight with Akoya, oh my fucking god. First off, Fuck Akoya and his justice boner. Second, god this fight did some ever lasting damage on you. This was one of those surreal life changing moments that you can never forget even if you tried. The fight, in it of itself, was one of the most intense, gruesome, but slightly breathtaking things you have ever bear to witness. Although you hate to say this, this was the fight that Cosmo needed for his break through. This gave Cosmo what he’s been looking for in order to evolve and better his fighting.

However, this fight was to you was gut wrenching and mentally breaking. Like when you caught Hiyama helping out Akoya in the matches with Adam and Mr. Nishihonji, something was wrong by her desperate reaction to continue to help Akoya. Then the next you know was when you look down towards the arena, Akoya goes berserk and went total psycho on Cosmo. From biting a chunk of Cosmo’s leg off, cracking his ribs, and practically torturing him by bring him back to conscious after Cosmo pasted out. You, on the other hand, couldn’t shout as nothing would come out of your mouth no matter how hard you tried. Tears were building up, your heart was pounding out of your chest, it was hard to watch. Two things could’ve happened next, you either fainted from the immense fear where Adam had to catch you or you glued your eyes to the match and gripped the concrete so hard your finger nails got damage along with bleeding finger tips. Let’s go with the second one, then. The match in-front of you seem one sided and you feared for Cosmo’s life. But deep down, for some goddamn reason, you believe he can pull through if he found his motivation and drive. You called yourself stupid for having so much faith in him but he never has once let you down, so why should you? Once you said that Cosmo has a chance, Adam thought you were nuts but the unwavering hope said otherwise. For Cosmo, he has the classic anime protag shit where in a near death experience he has a bunch of flashbacks. Most of them was his time training with his master, however, some were times spent with you. With all the memories, Cosmo wanted to win, not just for his life and master, but for you as well. When Cosmo started to have his epiphany and turning the fight around in his favor, you never yelled as hard and as loud in your entire life. You bet his ass that he heard it. After the brutal few minutes, Cosmo came out the victor and you have never felt so relieve and exhausted in your life. You cried, fam, there's no doubt (I cried too, don't worry). When you came to get him and send him to the infirmary, you stuck to him for the rest of the tournament.

The fight didn’t make Cosmo realize he loved you, but it did stir up something inside of him that made him view you in a new light. In which he didn’t want to spend a moment without you. Man, you yelled at him for almost dying on you but spoke of your relief to him. He just apologizes and said he’ll win his next fight. It’s a very tender moment between the two of you.

What shock you the most was Kureshi suddenly appearing at the quarter finals tournament, he stated that he wanted to see Cosmo’s progress. It was odd seeing him but it was probably important as the tournament was nearing the end. He was up against Ohma which prove to be a powerful opponent. But alas, Cosmo was defeated by him. While he sat in one of the waiting rooms, you were right next to him, comforting him. Then you let your emotions speak for themselves, how you were proud of him for coming so far especially someone for his age, that he shouldn’t stop here and strive for more, and that you’ll give him your undying support. Then Cosmo pulls you into a hug and just cries it out, you smile and held him close.

After a few months after the tournament, Cosmo realizes he has feelings for you and confessed to you after he took you out to eat. And the rest is history.

Being with Cosmo is great (I say this with almost everyone, so bear with me). Being happy 24/7, a lot of hugs and kiss, spending endless hours with him. The man, himself, is a ball of sunshine at just happens to be your boyfriend.

The man loves you unconditionally no matter what. He doesn’t really have a preference on appearance. However, I’ll do say that if you’re shorter than him(he’s 5′6 i think), he’s over the moon because it adds some cuteness to you. The man loves you.

Cosmo really likes hugs and cuddles. He knows not the strangle you when he’s cuddling with you, but he loves to squeeze you tight. Meteor has caught the two of you sleeping on the couch in each other embrace in more than one occasion. Meteor thinks it’s cute and doesn’t disturb you two.

Cosmo is more than okay with PDA. He can’t really keep his hands off of you, yet he’ll respect your boundaries. He’ll hold your hand, arm around your waist or shoulder, giving small pecks to you. He’s not afraid of showing you off.

He’s a playful kisser, he likes to play around with you. But there are times where he does kiss you passionately, but that’s usually in private though. Before his matches, it’s a must for you to kiss him before he goes out and fights. Sometimes he kisses you out of nowhere and when you ask him, he just says I love you and stuff.

I can see him calling you baby/babe/ and love. It just sounds like him.

The man’s always hugging you from behind.

I’m gonna say since no one has said it louder: Cosmo with his hair slicked back makes him from cute to instant HOT. Deadass when you see he like with his hair like that, you cheeks heat up quickly and you just quietly freaking over his hair. You tell him that it looks better on him(which it does, btw) but he says it’s a simple haircut for him.

I headcanon that you and Kureshi gave him the idea to grow out his hair since it’ll suit him more. When his hair gets long enough, you sometimes braid his hair or brush it. To him, it’s a very relaxing moment since you’re kinda spoiling him.

Cheer for this man and he will definitely fight even harder in his matches. You’re his motivations.

Cosmo does have nosebleeds so make sure to bring some tissues.

Before the Kengan Omega, you had to help him take care of himself but after the two years he doesn’t have to, or rather not as much.

The only time you got jealous was probably when you found that Mr. Nishihonji took Cosmo to a brothel(?) and you finding out Cosmo had a taste for older women kinda sat with you the wrong way even though you two weren’t an item yet. You didn’t tell him out right what was wrong because you thought it was stupid to be feel jealous. It made you avoid Cosmo for like a day or two. You still haven’t told him yet about it and it will remain like that to this day.

You did take note on Cosmo’s estrange friend group aka the fighters. They’re not intimidating people. You actually had a run in with Wakatsuki on accident. Cosmo invited you to come hang out with him but you were busying with errands that you sadly had to decline. While you were fast walking to your next destination, you bumped into someone and tripped on your own foot. Before your face touched the ground, Wakatsuki caught you and helped you up. He apologizes for bumping into you because he didn’t see you. You said you were fine and ask what he was doing, he stated he was waiting for a friend of his. After you excuse yourself to continue your day, Cosmo comes around the corner as you left. While they were eating, Wakatsuki told Cosmo ran into you. When Cosmo said “oh, you met my girlfriend?” Wakatsuki had to pause because, like what?, the girl/person he bumped into was Cosmo’s girlfriend. Big shocker for him. Before you guys became a thing, Sakura, Sekibayashi, and Wakatsuki, would tease Cosmo about girls that would know him. I mean, they do this a lot when it was with you but to know the two of you ended up together caught them blind sided.

The fact Cosmo can take down opponents twice his size and age is pretty amazing in your eyes. Man’s short but damn can he pull off some impressive moves. Proud to call him your boyfriend honestly.

Food buddy, you guys love to eat with eat other. It’s pretty obvious that Cosmo loves to eat. The man takes you out to eat all the time, fucking bet on that shit.

When Cosmo loves you, he will LOVE you to death. Sure, you were hard on him when he’s training, but he is thankful for you being with him for the long run.

Being in a relationship with Cosmo is just full of fun and love even though it does get serious at some points. Cosmo never fails to show you that he loves you and how much you mean to him.

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #kengan ashura headcanons #imai cosmo × reader #imai cosmo

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [1]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: You meet Steve Rogers for an interview but he’s not what you expected.

Note: I’ve been trying to chill the last five days but I obviously got some writing in. It has resulted in this impromptu series and I hope you all like it. It’s looking like it will be about 10 chapters when all is said is done but that being said, I am still working on it.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

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

Reader

Your left ankle bent as you leaned heavily on your heel. You stood before the thick walnut door, a round frosted window on its face. The townhouse stuck out on the old Brooklyn row and all knew its resident. It surprised many that he remained in the borough and he was cherished all the more for it. He was the golden boy of New York.

Well, that’s what people like to believe. You weren’t there to paint another flowery picture of the saviour. You were there to speak with the real man behind the plan. There was a story behind Steve Rogers that had yet to be told and when you were selected to tell it, you knew you had to do it right. The task was both daunting and humbling. It could be your big break.

You knocked and adjusted the bag that hung from your shoulder. You didn’t miss the group of kids at the end of the block gathered around for a glimpse of their hero. The door opened and you were greeted by the man himself. He smiled at you as his hand rested on the curled door handle.

“Hi,” He greeted you. “Thanks for coming. It saves me a lot of trouble.”

“Not at all,” You shook his hand. 

You’d spoken to him briefly over the phone and negotiated the time and place for your interview. You agreed that him coming to the office would cause too much of a flurry. You were sure he was over that.

“Come in,” He stepped back and waved you through.

He closed the door as you looked around the entryway. A thick banister with the same dark wood as the walls led up to the second level and a finely carved archway peeked through to the next room. It was cozy and a lot quainter than you expected. The exposed brick above the panelling lent it a warmth.

“Shoes?” You stopped by the mat.

“Your call,” He said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers, but I’m fine,” You assured him as you stepped out of your heels. You’d hate to scuff the hardwood. “I’m sure you're just as impatient as me to begin.”

“Steve. And yeah, I suppose. I don’t really do much more than pressers and usually, I don’t do much talking.” He confessed. “Just through here,” He pointed to the front room. 

You nodded and stepped through. He directed you to the pair of armchairs before the artificial fireplace and you set your bag down as you sat. He lowered himself across from you as you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone and notebook. You swiped up and flicked your finger across the screen.

“Do you mind if I record you? It helps with editing and of course, accuracy,” You said.

He scratched his jaw and shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Great,” You hit the red dot and set the phone down on the small table with the mic facing him. 

🖋️

You were a bit surprised by how it had all unfolded, but, you supposed, you were right when you said no one was ever exactly what they seemed. Steve was nice enough as he showed you the door but you could see the agitated impatience behind his eyes. You should’ve eased him into it more. Timing was everything.

Even so, you had promised your editor a story and if you didn’t deliver after being chosen for such a coveted one, well, you would never see its likes again.

So you sat at your desk in your small but comfortable city apartment. It was nothing compared to the star-spangled hero’s walk-up but it was home. If you could work the interview the right way, it might mean an upgrade, or at least a television that didn’t flicker.

You hit play on your phone for the third time that night. Steve Rogers’ voice was etched into your brain. And that tension in his forehead, the tic in his jaw. A thinly veiled wrath unexpected of the valiant soldier-turned-saviour. You shivered and paused the recording. It was almost startling how quickly he’d turned on you, but you weren’t entirely innocent.

You stretched your fingers over the keyboard and sighed as you stared at your blinking cursor. You couldn’t just sit on this forever. You had a deadline and an extension was an impossibility, if not a death warrant for your career.

So you hit play and began to type, pausing to play back snippets as you went.

🖋️

‘It’s early afternoon in the heart of Brooklyn. Amidst the old brick buildings that line the cracked sidewalks is a townhouse unlike any other. The home of a man born there over a century ago. A living ghost that haunts the block. Most would say he is a friendly spirit.

Steve Rogers answers the door as a boy lets his baseball roll under a car and his friends lower their mitts to watch. A teen on a bike, a ring in his nose, even slows to admire the hometown hero as he smiles; a beacon of the borough. A glimmer of hope for all to think that the block is not the whole world.

He greets me like an old friend. “Hi.” The same smile seen in newsprint. He thanks me for coming and ushers me inside. This is the first time I’ve met him in person. I can’t lie; I’m intimidated. I’m just another person in debt to this great veteran.

His house isn’t what you would expect from a man as prestigious as him. No medals hanging on the wall, no vainglorious cut-outs of his image, or pictures of him shaking hands with men in suits. Only framed baseball cards along freshly laid wood-panels. It’s like any other house in Brooklyn, just newer. An ancient skeleton revived.

We sit in the front room, he offers me a drink. I’m not very thirsty. I’m more anxious to start talking. I can see he is too though his facade is hard to crack. He tells me to call him Steve as my recitations of ‘Mr. Rogers’ become almost pathetic. We begin.

Interviewer: “Great.” I hit ‘record’. “I’ll start by saying you have a nice place.”

Steve: “Thanks.” He seems to relax as he leans back in the chair which is nearly too narrow for his broad shoulders. “It took a while but I think it’s coming together.”

Interviewer: “Can’t take the boy out of Brooklyn, I guess.”

Steve: “Wouldn’t leave it for the world.” He smiles again, though he never truly looks less than amiable.

I: “Only to save it,”

S: “I do what I can.

I: “More than most; New York, Sekovia, the world. You’ve done it all. Do you ever just take a break?”

S: “I try. And sometimes I get a chance to just… be here.”

He looks around, proud of himself, of his home.

I: “Any hobbies?”

S: “You know, I used to love to draw. Nothing special, you know. But I found it calming. I actually bought a bunch of pencils and a pad but I never touched them. I’m sure they're just sitting up in my closet, neglected.” 

I listen intently, imagining this man bent over a notebook. It’s an absurd picture as my mind returns to the man in his cowl with shield in hand. The red, white, and blue bullseye is more suiting in my head than a pen.

I: “Anything else? Anything you actually do?”

S: “I like to run. Helps me get to know my neighbours, reconnect with my roots. I read… a little. I’m still not really into the whole internet thing but I try. I still get the newspaper just to read the strips and fill in the weekly crosswords.”

He confirms my suspicion. A man lost in time, but it seems he has found his place.

I: “A man for all times. And you work? I’m sure you get tired of talking about it but well, there’s been a lot of speculation about a possible retirement.”

He ‘s silent as he looks away and fidgets in his chair. He becomes the rehearsed hero at his podium. 

S: “I’d hate to fan that fire but I think it’s only natural to consider it.” 

I: “Thinking of settling down?”

S: “It’s always a thought but I’m not stupid. It’s not that simple. I’m not the type of man that gets to settle down.”

This remark might break the heart of every woman in Brooklyn and beyond but it seems to hurt him more. A grim truth for a man who many would say has the world in his hands.

I: “And if you did hang up the shield, is there anything you want to do? Anywhere you want to go?” 

S: “I’d like to try fishing. I’ve heard it’s relaxing. I love the city but it’s nice to get away now and then.”

I: “Is there anything keeping you from retiring? Besides the obvious; we all know you’re a good man and a great hero. You’ve shown commitment to the city, the world, humanity.” 

He looks to the artificial fireplace and shrugs. He’s thinking; perhaps censoring his response.

I: “Co-workers? The world is well aware of what you did for your old friend. And it has proven to be a point of contention, even after the pardon.”

He clears his throat and he’s no longer smiling.

S: “Bucky is an old friend and a commendable soldier. He does his job well. I wouldn’t take anything back. He has more than earned his place.”

I: “So, if you retired, you believe that he would retain his place among the team?”

He’s frowning now. He adjusts his posture so that he seems even bigger than before. A formidable opponent, if not an overwhelming one. 

S: “He is not there because of me. He’s there because of himself. Because he is an asset to the world.”

His blue eyes are darker now. No longer the crystalline waves shining in the sun but those foreboding tides which crash together beneath the moonless sky. My ship has gone awry, carried by an errant wind.

I: “Well, I can’t help but point out that many wouldn’t agree. You put yourself and several of your associates on the line to save him. To bring him into your fold. To place a man who was once a national enemy beside you. I hate to say it but, frankly, even if he were pardoned on his own merit, I fail to imagine him being allowed the same access to confidential intelligence and tasked with the protection of civilian life.”

His hands are fists. I could put up a front and say I’m not nervous, but I am. I have done what I once thought impossible. I have angered Steve Rogers.

S: “He wasn’r Bucky, but he is now and he has been cleared. I’m sorry, but I thought you were here to talk about me.”

I: “Yes, I am, but the world is well aware of your friendship with Mr. Barnes and all its implications. It is hard to separate him from your life.”

S: “I agreed to talk about me.”

His tone is set in stone. I attempt to stay calm myself.

I: “We are talking about you, but we can move on. Now, even with its dissolution, there are still questions being asked about the Sokovia Accords and your opposition to it. While many can acknowledge the need for your team and their work, they can’t help but wonder at the lack of restraints placed upon it. There are regulations even for the FBI and CIA and other protective services. So why should you be exempt?”

He sniffs and stands up slowly. He retreats behind his chair and nears a table along the wall. He distracts himself with a signed baseball. I don’t have a chance to ask who scribbled along the stitches as he tosses it and finds his voice.

S: “I never disagreed with the sentiment of the Accords. As heroes, of course, we should have obligations. Our first and foremost being the protection of innocent lives. The hardest to uphold but we do it.”

He is ever the statesman but he isn’t finished and his voice gets low. Dangerous, even.

S: “At the same time, we put our own lives on the line and you come here and nag me about formalities? What is it you want? Paperwork? Reports on how I threw my shield to stop a bullet from striking an innocent bystander? How a piece of shrapnel nearly severed my tendon as I threw myself in front of a speeding vehicle?”

I: “With all due respect, I am only asking about transparency. People deserve to know more. They deserve the truth.”

S: “Is that what you’re looking for? The truth? You want to know what we don’t tell you and your readers?” 

He puts the baseball down and his hand is on his hip, disapproving. I suspect his lecture will continue. He nears the chair and grips the back of it as he narrows his eyes at me. I fear he might throw it in my direction though for now, I hope it should act as my own shield against him.

S: “About how I have to lie about how many men I lose to keep this world safe. Because I can’t scare the people. Because I have to keep on this mask of the brave hero.”

His eyes go to the ceiling. He takes a breath to calm himself. I can tell he wants to continue. That he is holding back something which has brewed within him for a very long time. It is a moment before he speaks again.

S: “We’re done here. That’s it. Turn your phone off and go.”

The interview is over. What happens next will remain off the record. I leave with a mouth full of bile. My childlike wonder has been extinguished. I came to seek out the man behind the shield and I have done just that, but he is not who I expected. 

I was ready for a humble man, a man like any of us; the same wants and desires. Still human despite his enhancements; despite his superhuman status. What I discovered was a man who’s exceptionality has nurtured a sense of entitlement. 

And we do owe him our lives, our gratitude, we owe him the world. Yet I cannot dismiss the sense that he might regret his good deeds. That to him, it has become a thankless chore. That we are the needy children and he has been burdened with our cries for help.

So we should not be surprised or upset upon his retirement, not if, but when it comes. And we cannot fault him for his departure. It has been a long-time coming.’

🖋️

You took a breath and sat back in your chair. You rubbed your cheeks as the recording began to repeat itself. You stopped it and checked the time. You’d spend your morning editing and hope you would be ready for submission by the evening.

As you hit save, you felt an odd tremor deep inside. This could be it. Your big story. Or you could be tired and entirely up your own ass. You only hoped it was the former.

🖋️

You sat across from Poppy as she read your article through the glasses which sat low on her long nose. She was just past forty and wouldn’t look it if she didn’t wear the ridiculous half-circle spectacles. She wore a shade of red which paid homage to her name and her lipstick was just as bold. Her long lashes flicked up as she lowered the pages and her blonde hair fell behind her shoulder.

“Well…” She said carefully. “It is…interesting.”

You swallowed nervously as you teetered on the edge of the acrylic seat. Her long manicured nails played with the corner of the article.

“I had initially planned to have this in the back pages. No one really cares about the Avengers anymore.” She said. “But this is… I will discuss it with our marketing team but I know a feature when I see it.”

“A feature?” Your lips parted and you sat back as you gripped the thin arms of the chair.

“Oh, yes,” She said. “Another celebrity break-up is not exactly scandalous and to be frank, I do tire of that ridiculous narrative. But this… you will be hearing from me soon.”

“Uh,” You stood awkwardly at what you were sure was a dismissal. “Thank you.”

“For what? Doing my job? Should I thank you for doing yours?” She countered.

“N-no,” You stuttered.

“Go on then. I’m certain you have other work to do.” She tapped her long nails. “You certainly will once this is ready to print.”

You nodded and left her. She was already on her phone before the door closer behind you and you looked around the blindly bright office. It would be your first feature and it was the first article which had earned you more than a passive grumble from the woman. Perhaps you hadn’t been so foolish to think you had actually done something well.

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #she #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #fic #mcu #marvel #captain america

[technofade]

Untitled Bat Dad Phil Hybrid AU?

Intro | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (you are here) | ?

Italics - Instinct voice

Bold Italics - Phil’s thoughts

Beware, None of my writing is beta read or edited, so it can get a little messy.

Word Count: 1,362

---

Phil has been living with Technoblade for about a week now. And let it be known that Phil has absolutely no idea how to take care of a child, much less a hybrid child, and while the voice in his head was loud and annoying… it was also helpful.

The voice seemed to always know what Technoblade needed, even before the boy really needed it.

Techno was cold? Make a nest.

Techno was whimpering? Nuzzle him.

Techno was making that (admittedly very adorable) squeaking noise? Coo at him, he wants attention.

The voice always knew and as much as Phil hated having something else in his head… He also really liked having Techno around and the voice made taking care of Techno feel easy. The kid added a new aspect to his life that he found himself enjoying. Ever since Techno’s cuts fully healed, the kid’s been showing more of his true colors.

The boy was also very interesting; Phil’s been taking notes about every new thing the hybrid boy does. There were so many intriguing things that Phil had managed to fill one of his notebooks halfway with nothing but his observations.

Observations such as:

Techno made a lot of noises. Grunts, squeals, squeaks, oinks, huffs, etc.

Techno appeared to be a pure hybrid. Meaning that he only had one non-human gene set.

Techno has an affinity for flying. He loves it when Phil flies around with him.

Techno was extremely shy. The poor kid had freaked out when Phil introduced him to the farm animals.

Techno really liked sword fighting.

There were more notes of course, but the last one was the most important. Especially since, not long after the kid started feeling better, he’d started aggressively stomping his little hooves on the floor, which, while it was adorable the first few times it happened… It eventually started leaving scuffs all over his nice floor. 

Phil’s solution? ...Give the kid a sword.

And so he did. Phil gave Techno an old wooden training sword, which the kid immediately used to start attacking everything in the house until Phil made a training dummy. Although, he didn’t really mind the damage, he just loved seeing the little hybrid look so happy as he slashed with his sword, happy squeals filling the house.

Everything was good! Everything was fine. 

...

Well, okay, maybe the voice had been acting a little more sad than usual, which had caused Phil to definitely not panic. Speaking of...

The voice let out a sad whine, distracting Phil from watching Techno.

What’s wrong with you? All you ever seem to do is whine nowadays.

Chick happy… Chick lonely…

Mildly surprised that he’d gotten an answer, Phil continued to talk to the voice.

I know he’s technically alone, but, look! Phil made a small, subtle gesture towards where Techno was currently attacking the training dummy, Look at how happy he is!

The voice just sighed, Need more.

Phil paused, Need more? What does that mean?

More chicks.

Almost bursting out in laughter, but deciding against it since it made him look insane, Phil responded.

I-I can’t just get more! I didn’t even mean to find the first one!

Their conversation was abruptly disrupted by a tugging at Phil’s hand. Techno, his sword left on the ground, squeaked at Phil, doing his best to get the man’s attention. Almost instantly, Phil cooed in response, leaning down to pick up the boy.

“What’s up, piglet? I thought you were having fun?”

Techno pointed a hand towards the door, specifically the door that led outside to the animal pens.

Phil looked from Techno to the door, thinking about what the boy wanted, before remembering he’d forgotten to check on the animals that morning. He brought his empty hand up to his head, facepalming. Of course! He’d forgotten to take Techno to see the pigs today!

“Sorry, kiddo, I promise I didn’t mean to forget.”

Techno nuzzled Phil, as if that was his way of telling the bat that he forgave him. With a soft smile on his face, Phil walked out the door. All the animal pens were kept a decent distance from the house, so that the noise wouldn’t disturb anything, which meant that the fastest way to get there - Phil’s wings started to spread; Techno immediately taking notice and holding on tight with an excited smile on his face - was to fly.

Without much of a second thought, Phil launched into the sky. The child let out a happy squeal as they soared through the air, rapidly ascending. He felt Techno let go of his clothes and instantly knew what the boy wanted. Making his grip firm, Phil carefully held Techno in front of himself; the boy quickly spread out his arms as they glided through the air.

Phil can faintly recall seeing humans do something similar to this with their children, back when he used to travel more, although their version was much less extreme.

Watching as Techno was happily giggling, Phil couldn’t help but feel... fulfilled. The voice agreed, for once not whining about Techno being lonely. 

Of course, this happy moment had to stop eventually, as Phil pulled Techno close as they landed. Years of flying experience meant that their landing was smooth (aside from the slight stumble when Phil’s feet first touched the ground). He put down Techno and watched as the boy ran over to the fence, peaking through it to get a closer look at the pigs. Chuckling at Techno’s excitement, Phil approached the fence, watching as one of the pigs came over to Techno, who extended a hand forward, petting the animal. 

Moving his gaze to the rest of the pen, the other pigs could be seen lazing about, merely enjoying the nice weather. Or at least they were until a shrill squeal sounded out from one of the back corners, disturbing the peace. The loud noise caused Phil to flinch, his sensitive ears twitching at the sound. On the other hand, Techno’s reaction was more positive, as the boy lifted himself over the fence, into the pen, and rushed to the source of the sound. From where he was standing - hands over his ears, Phil could see Techno tackling something, another squeal emanating from the corner. 

“Tech’!”

Once again, Phil’s wings opened as he flew over the fence and over to where Techno had gone. However, the sight he was greeted with was much different than the one he expected. Techno had another kid pinned to the ground and the pinned child wasn’t even attempting to escape. Techno’s long, curly tail was wagging back and forth, excitedly.

“Techno? What’s going on?”

The piglin hybrid snapped his attention towards Phil, scrambling to get off the other kid and offering the other boy a hand. As soon as the other boy accepted the offered hand, Techno pulled him up and dragged him closer to Phil. Now that the new boy was no longer on the ground, Phil could get a good look at him. 

You have got to be kidding me…

The boy was a hybrid, but not just any hybrid, no, this boy was a pig hybrid. A wild pig - a boar perhaps? - with his brown colored, fuzzy, not-floppy ears, his curly tail, and hooved feet. Half of his face was covered with his messy brown hair, but Phil could still see the hints of fear on his face.

Crouching down, Phil held out his hand, just like he’d done for Techno. The pig hybrid uncertainly looked at the man’s hand before turning to Techno, whose hand he was still holding. Techno responded by letting go of the boy’s hand and pushing him towards Phil, who immediately caught him. The boy tensed up for a moment before relaxing in Phil’s hold. Techno squeezed his way into the hug, grabbing the boy’s attention. The piglin hybrid leaned up and nuzzled one of Phil’s cheeks, the pig hybrid watching with a confused look, before his eyes widened and he quickly mimicked Techno’s actions on Phil’s other cheek.

If a disembodied voice could look smug, then Phil’s definitely would be.

More~

---

It wouldn’t be Dadza if he didn’t acquire more than one child, right? 

#haha writing go brrrrr #Bat Dad Au?

[kingfallsamtranscripts2]

King Falls AM Episode Twenty: Referencing Aladdin Don’t Make It Right

King Falls AM Transcript

Episode 20: Referencing Aladdin Don’t Make It Right

Run time: 22:17

First Aired: Feb 15, 2016

Summary: Sammy & Ben get a quick update on the little ones off Route 72 and learn live on-air that not everyone had a great evening on the night of the Valentine’s Day Dance.

(For a list of characters and references from this episode see the end of this post)

[King Falls AM theme plays]

Troy: Hey folks, if you or anyone you know has any information on these hybrid werewolf slash human baby thingamagigs-

Sammy Stevens: Is that a technical term, Troy?

Ben Arnold: Can you please let Troy finish, Sammy, this is important!

Troy: Heh, thanks, little buddy.

Ben: Go on, Troy.

Troy: Well if you see those little beasts or have information on them you just got to let us know. Don’t harbor them, they could have the rabies and or the colic. And please don’t try to adopt while it’s in its human form, cause that ain’t gonna end up well. Just use your common sense and be safe.

Sammy: Thanks for calling in officially with police business and alerting the public to the issue.

Ben: Yeah, nice hearing from you on the job, Troy.

Troy: Whilst I’m still on official police biz, I’d like to make one more little statement if I could, fellas.

Ben: Dude, of course! The floor is yours!

Troy: Well the sheriff is a real foul mood regarding these hybrid wolf babies and what have you just running amok, and he wants to make it completely, perfectly, crystal clear that if anyone should have these animals or any other illegal animals in the city limits of King Falls, they will be apprehended and exterminated on site with extreme force of malice. King Falls is a zero tolerance town for any illegal animals of any kind, up to and including wolf-human hybrids.

Ben: So… uh (clears throat) you’re saying that anyone listening that may have access to a cute and cuddly but illegal animal should do… what?

Troy: Now I’m not talking to no one in particular, I mean this isn’t a warning, it’s just a fact. Sheriff Gunderson is making it a personal project to bring down any and all animals that shouldn’t be in town.

Sammy: But cats are fine, is that right, Troy?

Troy: No doubt about that. Ain’t nobody gonna get any cats while I’m patrolling the streets, friends.

Sammy: There you have it, folks. If you or anyone you know has any information on the werewolf puppies last heard from around Route 72 or any other illegal animals not allowed in the city, please contact the sheriff’s department at once.

Ben: (sounding strained) Thanks for the info, Troy.

Troy: All you listeners, you stay safe out there, alright?

Sammy: Thanks, Troy. We’ll talk to you soon, sir.

Troy: Roger that, Sammy.

[The sound of a phone hanging up]

Ben: (clearing throat) Well… that’s good information there, huh?

Sammy: Are you okay, Ben?

Ben: Yeah! You know, I’m just… I’m not a fan of the idea that Gunderson is sending out gangs of thugs to dispatch animals, man! Aren’t there real issues for law enforcement in this town? Last week, I saw old lady Turner jaywalking in front of the grocery store.

Sammy: So you’d rather Gunderson take down the organized jaywalking underbelly of King Falls?

Ben: No, I actually helped her cross the street, but the point is that this werewolf issue seems like an animal control issue! Let Ralf Harkins take care of this! Why are the police even involved, man?

Sammy: Your guess is as good as mine. Moving forward-

Ben: Yeah! Yeah, uh, moving forward we’ve got about thirty minutes of open calls lined up before acclaimed ebook author Kirk Sycamore- don’t judge this, Sammy- will be joining us to talk about his new book Dead Tom Turkey: The Perils of Uncooked Poultry.

Sammy: I’m sorry, what now?

Ben: I mean… it’s a thing. Undercooked anything can’t be good, right?

Sammy: I would assume, but seemingly that one sentence just covered everything you need to know. Cook it longer.

Ben: Then it might get dry. I don’t know man! Don’t look at me like that! Merv emailed and asked to book this guy. His book topped Beauregard’s King of King Falls, it’s got to be worth something, right?

Sammy: The perils of uncooked poultry.

Ben: In thirty minutes.

Sammy: I don’t know if I can hold this excitement in for thirty minutes, Ben. You must be bursting at the seams! Surely you’ve waited your entire journalistic career to talk about under-broiled birds.

Ben: Uh, if it makes this any better, apparently this is a novel, not an instructional guide.

Sammy: (outraged) That actually makes it worse! This is a fictional piece of work?!

Ben: Merv emailed this to us, Sammy.

Sammy: Listeners, please immediately stop what you’ve got going on and mark this down: I’m going to do my damndest to get you the info on Merv’s book of the month club. I’m on your side and I am fighting for you.

Ben: Merv, if you are listening, I do not need to be cc-ed on the email you are penning. 

Sammy: (laughs) You heard it folks, that’s coming up quickly, but until then we are taking your calls, King Falls. What would you like to talk about this evening, Ben?

Ben: Whatever’s clever. 

Sammy: Talking about whatever’s on your minds before what is sure to be a Pulitzer winning interview. 

Ben: It’ll be good- you’re making fun- but it’ll be good. 

Sammy: How could it not be? You heard our story, King Falls, now let’s hear yours. 

Ben: Give us a call at the station- 424-279-3858, or hit us up at the tweet machine!

Sammy: That’s @ kingfallsam and @ kingfallssammy respectively. Line seven you are on the air with King Falls AM. 

Pete Meyers: You’re saying to yourself: I don’t think Pete Meyers would listen to a show of this terrible quality, as handsome and as smart as he is. He’s probably watching Big Bang Theory or something. 

Sammy: That is exactly what I was thinking, Pete. 

Ben: Word for word, almost. 

Pete: Look, I don’t like talking to the two of you either. 

Ben: Yet you continue to call! And listen! And show up at events!

Pete: Ben if you don’t drop a little bass out of your voice I will roundhouse you right in the gullet the next time I see you. You hear me? I will skullf-(beep) your mom.

Ben: So now you’re threatening me? Do you hear this Sammy?

Sammy: (annoyed) Just hang up. 

Pete: (stammering) Whoa, wait, wait, alright? You know, I’m sorry. I’m a little emotional right now… I would never intentionally try to scuff up my lugs on your face, Ben. I apologize. 

Sammy: I don’t think that-

Ben: What’s the matter? Got a vampire not appreciating the hedge art you’ve been clipping into the bushes?

Pete: Well it’s kind of about him- did you say vampire?

Ben: (triumphantly) Knew it! Man, just fess up and tell everyone that your boss is a vamp!

Pete: Ben Arnold, I just bought domain to your name. And you know what? I’m going to fill up all the pages with babies and donkeys. What’s the world going to think of you? Some weirdo guy, making an internet site about babies and donkeys? Yeah, that’s right-

Ben: (all riled up) Oh yeah? Ooooooh, Pete! Why don’t you come down here, look me in the eyes, when you’re saying this huh? Huh?!

Sammy: Guys. 

Ben: Meanie!

Sammy: Guys! That’s enough. Pete, state your problem or move along. 

Pete: Alright, fine. I messed up big time. Worse than the time I dressed up as Edward Scissorhands for Halloween and ruined Mr. B’s hedges. Apparently I pushed a button or didn’t-really-push-a-button on a fancy thing… that’s beside the point. What I really want to know is- did you guys hear something funny on your station a week or two back?

Ben: Um, um, I’m hearing something stupid right now but I don’t know if that’s-

Pete: Come on, Ben! Be serious. I take you seriously- I almost respect you! Now, I heard a little something like maybe you guys got hijacked or something like that and I just wanted to know… you know, what’s up.

Ben: This again?

Sammy: Wait, Ben, we’ve heard this a few times actually. The shotgun guy said it, we’ve had a number of tweets about it. We don’t know anything about this but apparently another feed cut into ours about a month or so ago. 

Pete: Oh sh-(beep).

Ben: Watch your language, Pete.

Pete: Watch your… face, Ben.

Ben: Wait, what the hell are you and Beauregard up to? 

Pete: None of your damn business. 

Beauregard: (from the background of Pete’s call) Yard boy, what are you doing in this chamber without supervision?

Pete: Uhhhhhhh what? Uh, Mr. B, uh nothing!

Beauregard: Don’t act like an ignoramus around the transmorgrifier. 

[There are metallic clanks and scrapes in the background and the sound of metal pipes moving around. A whirring humming sound begins like a machine turning on which grows steadily louder]

Sammy: What the hell is going on over there? Pete?

Pete: You made me mess up again you butt smackers. 

Beauregard: Don’t just stand there all slack-jawed and drooling. Turn it off this instant. Celestia!

[The whirring cuts off and there is the sound of a call ending]

Ben: What the hell?

Sammy: Well, folks, this is a first for me that I believe an on air failed attempted felony will lead us right into break.

[Cheerful music starts as a commercial begins]

Ernie: Hey there! Ernie Salsado’s leather bound books ain’t your normal bookshop. Maybe you’re asking yourself: Ernie, whatever do you mean? What I mean is that Ernie Salsado’s leather bound books is more than just a hipster reading book nook. We don’t carry none of those cheap-ass paperback books or harlequin novels here, plus you sure as hell ain’t gonna find nothing to read on your I-pad kindle whositswhatsits. For what I understand it’s only first edition leather bound books and (???) up in this joint. Maybe you’re thinking you need to gussy up your place to impress some broad or you have a real need to make people think you got a bigger vocabulary than some Johnny come lately. Either way, Ernie’s got you covered. That’s a book joke! Ernie Salsado’s leather bound books- we got fancy books! F-(beep) you, pay me.

[King Falls AM rock music plays then fades out as the commercial break ends]

Sammy: Ernie Salsado’s leather bound books? There’s two of these stores here? I’ve never even heard of one of them until Rich McGuff! I don’t know what’s more surprising, Ernie’s entrepreneurial rise in the community or him almost making me forget what happened before the break…

Ben: I’m literally afraid to comment one way or another on this. 

Sammy: (amused) He is an intimidating specimen. 

Ben: (carefully and slowly) If he… likes to hear that, then, yes, you are right. If not, please don’t slander that gigantic human!

Sammy: Ha, no slander intended. We’re taking calls and counting down the seconds before we get a riveting interview with the man who some call the Dan Brown of bird related mysteries. 

Ben: Wow, they say that?

Sammy: No, they don’t! (laughs) The phone lines are still lit up, let’s take some calls.

Ben: Good evening, you’re live on King Falls AM. 

Greg Frickard: (smugly) Well look who decided to pick up the phone. 

Ben: (quickly) Um, let’s take another-

Greg: Hey, Sammy! I’ve got a topic of discussion. Let’s talk about how that co-host of yours is just gonna sit there all quiet and not even mention the fiasco he caused earlier this week at Granny Frickards!

Sammy: Greg? Is everything okay?

Greg: Oh, it’s not okay, Sammy. That- pardon my French- moron, that he would even-

[the sound of a call ending]

Ben: Whoops!

Sammy: Ha! 

Ben: Line five you are on with Sammy and Ben!

Sammy: Wow, it looks like you learned a thing or two from Chet, I see. 

Ben: Don’t know what you’re talking about!

Caller: Hello?

Sammy: So what happened at Frickard’s?

Caller: Are you talking to me?

Ben: Nothing happened to… let’s just-

Sammy: Not only are you my broadcast partner, I thought we were friends! 

Ben: Hey! We are friends! I just didn’t think to tell you that I happened to have dinner at Frickard’s earlier in the week.

Caller: Hellooo?

Sammy: Uh huh. This wouldn’t happen to be the same night Emily was on a business meeting with Greg, would it?

Ben: I really don’t recall but it might have been… that’s a good question. 

Sammy: You don’t recall going to your least favorite restaurant in town, which you never eat at, on the night of the King Falls Valentines Day Dance where your main squeeze-

Ben: Watch it.

Sammy: Where the girl you pine for-

Ben: Watch it!

Sammy: Where Emily Potter-

Ben: Thanks.

Sammy: Happened to be roped into a business meeting with Greg Frickard.

Ben: My mortal enemy. 

Sammy: Paid sponsor of King Falls AM. 

Ben: Whatever. 

Sammy: You don’t recall if that’s the night you dined at Granny Frickard’s?

Ben: Ehhhh it’s not really ringing any bells! 

Sammy: Maybe we should call Emily. 

Ben: Don’t do that!

Sammy: Things coming back to you now? 

Ben: Did- ugh… can I fill you in at break and not on the air?

Sammy: You’d better! You know, I’m a little sore that you didn’t tell me to begin with! And this was days ago! 

Ben: I’m sorry, man, it’s just it’s not the best story. Believe me.

Caller: Hello? Can we talk now?

Sammy and Ben: No!

[The sound of a call ending]

Sammy: The turkey guy is not sounding so bad right now.

Ben: Ha, why don’t we try… lucky line one, you’re on King Falls AM. 

Greg: Hey Ben Arrrnold! Why don’t you tell the whole friggin town about you showing your butt and ruining my business meeting with Emily Potter!

Ben: Greg, I really don’t wanna get into this. 

Greg: Ohh, you can’t talk in front of Sammy and the whole town- what’s the matter? Frog got your tongue?

Ben: That's not a saying. 

Greg: You sure didn’t have a problem causing a ruckus at the restaurant! In front of Granny no less!

Ben: Can we take another call, Sammy?

Sammy: Is this true, Ben?

Greg: You can’t deny it, Ben Arnold! I’ve got it on camera from multiple angles! You are a heathen.

Ben: Why do you have me making a scene on camera?

Sammy: Multiple angles?

Greg: I’d like to say it’s just the security cameras… but, if you must know, I hid a few cameras around the Froggery for my big night. 

Sammy: You call a business meeting your big night?

Greg: With Emily Potter I absolutely do! She is the most beautiful creature in King Falls!

Ben: So you admit that it was a date?

Greg: It was a business meeting with a gorgeous woman! Take it as you will!

Ben: You’re so creepy! God!

Greg: Oh, so it’s creepy. Wanting your gramma and your future children to see the moment their future mother and I fell in love? Recorded for prosperity forever. Probably. Classily edited to voice a man and everything. 

Ben: Yeah! It’s creepy!

Greg: (singing) I’ll make love to you! Like you want me to, oh baby hold me tight I will love you all through the night…

Sammy: That is really creepy, Greg.

Greg: You’re just a heathen. You don’t know what love is. What do you know? Tell them what you did, Ben!

Ben: I’m not getting into this on the air, Greg. Let’s just-

Greg: I am a paying sponsor of this show, Ben Arnold! Fess up, right now!

Ben: What are you gonna do, Greg?

Greg: So help me I’m gonna ask Granny- real nice- to pull your sponsorship money!

Sammy: Greg... are you crying?

Greg: (in a high pitched voice) No...

Ben: Hmm, so you’re threatening the show over a personal issue?

Sammy: Greg, we appreciate what you and Granny do for the show and the station-

Greg: I’m glad to see one of you does.

Sammy: But I’m not about to let you threaten taking money away from the station to pressure Ben into talking about something he doesn’t want to. Do what you got to do. 

Greg: Ha! Don’t think that I won’t wake up Granny right now!

Ben: You want to talk about this on air, Frickard?

Greg: Tell the people what you did. Just tell them!

Ben: Ugh, okay. So, I made a reservation for myself at the King Falls best f-(beep)-ing Froggery the same night as your video taped date with Emily. 

Greg: Keep going.

Ben: Jack-In-The-Box-Jesus, this is ridiculous. Sammy, I made a reservation and I made a scene! The end.

Greg: Details, heathen!

Sammy: Details would be nice here, Ben. 

Ben: So, uh, (clears throat) I got there right as Emily was sitting down. 

Greg: At a table right next to ours! He requested it!

Ben: That is also true. 

Sammy: Ah.

Ben: And that’s that! I watched Greg lose his mind. Nature took its course. 

Greg: He ordered every single flambé frog special on the menu.

Ben: Yeah? So?

Greg: Everybody who’s anybody knows that that’s the most romantic frog dish in the world! And you cleaned us out!

Ben: So what? You don’t need romance on a business meeting!

Greg: You ordered twenty of those things just for you!

Ben: And I paid for twenty! What’s your point?

Greg: My point? You didn’t even eat them! You brought in Chipotle!

Ben: Yeah, man! Cause frogs are gross!

Greg: You… you’re gross!

Ben: Oh yeah?

Greg: Yeah. You’re gross! A gross heathen and I… I hate you! I hate you! Ha! I said it. I hate you.

Sammy: Guys…

Ben: I’ll do you one better- I never liked you to begin with. You creep me out. 

Sammy: Ben…

Greg: Well, heh, that’s not what your mom says.

Ben: Don’t you bring my mom into this.

Greg: Your mother things I am a fine, upstanding, entrepreneur, and model citizen!

Ben: She’s an idiot then! Sorry mom.

Greg: Heathen!

Sammy: Guys! (Clears throat) Okay so you disturbed Greg’s meeting with Emily. You ordered food you didn’t eat. I-is that it?

Ben: Basically! He lost it because I was probably in the shot of his candid camera date!

Greg: I lost my temper, but you had it coming! You get Emily whenever you want and I schedule months in advance!

Ben: Yeah, and you did it during the Valentine's Day Dance. Just real messed up, man. You’re a stalker. 

Greg: Who showed up at whose date, Ben?

Ben: I was just having dinner at my favorite sponsor’s restaurant.

Greg: You don’t even like frogs!

Ben: Nobody does!

Greg: Why don’t you tell them how you got escorted off the premises?

Ben: You just did, idiot!

Sammy: If you were just eating, or not eating as the case may be, how did they have the grounds to toss you out of Granny Frickard’s?

Ben: Ugh. I- I may have started throwing tiny hush puppies in Greg’s general direction.

Greg: You, you, you may have? Pah-lease! You were pretending to be Nolan Ryan while you’re lobbing them at my head.

Ben: You had no right to kiss Emily’s hand!

Greg: Well you wouldn’t have even known if you weren’t, you know, stalking us to begin with!

Ben: Yeah? Well, uh, stay away from Emily!

Greg: Well I won’t have a problem doing that since she hates us both.

Sammy: I’m sorry, what’s that, Greg?

Ben: Can we move on… please.

Greg: Emily left in a huff and said she wasn’t a prize to be won. Totally thought she was roleplaying and I called her princess Jasmine… Which she also didn’t appreciate… 

Ben: Nice touch, dumbass. Referencing Aladdin don’t make it right.

Greg: It’s kind of ludicrous when you think about it. I mean, she is a prize to be one. She’s the trophiest of trophy wives to ever be trophy won!

Ben: She’s pretty mad, Sammy.

Sammy: It sounds like she kinda should be…

Ben: She probably hates me now, man. Stupid stunt…

Sammy: I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, Ben.

Greg: Oh yeah, she hates him big time. I mean, she hates us both, but it’s basically a win for me. She was only lukewarm to my intentions but she can’t stand Ben now. She’ll eventually come back around to the Frog Prince if, uh, he’s out of the picture.

Ben: Greg.

Greg: I’ll take your apology on air, Ben. But I would also like it written on a nice piece of cardstock so I can show it to Granny.

Ben: I sincerely hope that you catch a frog-based STD and die.

Greg: And I hope that you find another perfect woman to fall head over heels in love with, Ben, because you just struck out. You stuck out big time.

Ben: You’re an imbecile! Nobody likes eating frogs! It’s 2016, Greg! You’re gross!

Greg: Ha! Shows what you know. Some cultures consider frogs the poultry of the pond.

Ben: Literally no cultures say that!

Greg: Oh yeah? Well ask Kirk Sycamore when he comes on, he’ll show you.

Ben: I’m not asking anybody anything.

Sammy: Greg, I think it’s best if we part ways for the night.

Greg: Fine! No skin off my bubble butt! Later haters!

[The sound of a phone hanging up]

Sammy: I think-

Ben: Can we just go to commercial, Sammy? I just- I can’t right now.

Sammy: D-do you want to? Is that on schedule?

Ben: No! And, no… Ugh, just take a couple more calls before the bird man pops in.

Sammy: Lucky line one you’re live on-

Caller: Hi, Sammy. Hi, Ben…

Sammy: Good evening, Emily. I assume you’ve been listening.

Emily. I’ve been listening.

Sammy: You know what, let me put you on hold so you can talk to Ben off the air.

Emily: No! I’d like to talk to Ben on the air, if you don’t mind, Sammy.

Sammy: You know, I uh… Ben?

Ben: Uh, whatever you want, Emily.

Emily: Okay, you know I don’t hate you, Ben. Far, far from it.

Ben: I’m so sorry Emily. I just, I lost it sitting there, thinking that you were all alone with that creep and-

Emily: You acted like a real ass.

Ben: I know I did!

Emily: I’m not a child, Ben. When I told you that I would love to go to the dance with you, that was the truth. But when I also told you that I was a woman of my word and was going to honor my prior engagements, as stupid and contrived as they were, I meant that too.

Ben: I just-

Emily: You acted like an ass!

Ben: I know, but-

Emily: There’s no explanation that will make this better, Ben! You acted like a jealous boyfriend and I’m not sure if you know this, but you aren’t my boyfriend.

Ben: Can I just say-

Emily: Even if I wanted you to be before, you aren’t. So you have no right to act like this!

Ben: (Pausing) You wanted me to be your boyfriend?

Emily: Before the incident there was no doubt about it.

Ben: After?

Emily: I- I- uh- I can’t let my feelings override the fact that you treated me like a kid, Ben. I am a grown woman! I am a professional woman. I don’t need some white knight to save me from the likes of Greg! And while I appreciate the idea behind it, like I said to you and I said to Greg, I am a person! I have feelings! I’m not a prize to be won! 

Ben: I really messed this up, I’m… I’m sorry. Emily if you’ll just-

Emily: I just- I need some time to evaluate what the next step is. 

Ben: Because you hate me.

Emily: No! Bec- because I lo- I strongly strongly like, probably definitely on the verge of more. I mean, I was scared to death that you were hurt or worse during Lincoln’s revenge! But I was scared even more when I saw you acting like a high school bully during that meeting. 

Ben: You strongly strongly like me?

Emily: I do. But it’s, it’s gonna be a little bit before I can trust you to be okay with that.

Ben: I understand. 

Emily: But I… I wasn’t going to let another minute go by of you think that I hated you. Cause I don’t. But you really need to fix this.

Ben: And I will. I- I promise.

Emily: I hope so. (pause) Ah, goodnight, Sammy. Ben.

Sammy: Goodnight, Emily. We will talk soon.

Emily: I’m sure of it. Ah, I actually wanted to talk to you about being one of the library’s spring break speakers soon. I’ll send you an email.

Sammy: Oh, please do. Anything to get the kids back in the library after, you know, Lincoln’s revenge…

Emily: Thanks, Sammy. Goodnight, guys.

Ben: Hey- hey, Emily?

[The sound of a phone hanging up with a beeping that slowly fades out. The King Falls outro music and credits begin.]

References:

Nolan Ryan: a baseball pitcher.

The Big Bang Theory: A television show.

Edward Scissorhands: a charactor from an old fantasy movie by the same name about a man who had scissors for hands.

Harlequin novels: a trashy romance story.

Characters:

Sammy Stevens, Ben Arnold, Troy, Greg Frickard, Emily Potter, Pete Meyers, Beauregard, Ernie Salsado.

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