#I’m anxious people think I’m ridiculous and that all the measures I go through are stupid

[cal-is-a-cryptid]

Self Reflection//: Cal-is-a-cryptid

Instagram: @cleebdoodles

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Weighted Blanket

I blame the Bog for enabling me here. This got out of hand. It was just gonna be a cute little drabble I swear yall. But the feels took over? I want a Geralt for myself? Preferably the fanon himbo variety? Idk fam, ya get what ya get today.

Warnings: anxiety/anxiety attack (not panic attack), new established relationship, Jask feels like he has to hide his anxiety from people, Geralt being a soft ass himbo, someone plz find me one? plz?

_______________

Jaskier had spent the night at Geralt’s a few times and he was always incredibly nervous until Geralt opened the door. He adjusted his backpack strap and tapped his foot on the concrete porch and felt a little bit like a child at a playdate. He was a grown ass man. This wasn’t that big of a deal. At least that's what he told himself while he waited for Geralt to scramble out of whatever pretzel yoga pose he was undoubtedly in. Jaskier was all for taking care of himself, he just preferred the ‘extra whip and a pedicure’ style rather than ‘whole foods and regular exercise’ route. He was worried Geralt would try to get him to go to the gym and drink kale but he seemed perfectly content to let Jaskier do what works for him. 

When Geralt opened the door he had a goofy grin and his hair in a sweaty floppy bun, “You’re early,” he said it like it was a treat every time, regardless of how early Jaskier really was. Be it fifteen minutes or an hour and a half, he always looked like an excited puppy and it set Jaskier at ease. 

But today he didn’t feel the tightness in his chest melt away when Geralt smiled at him. Not when he pulled him into a hug before he could utter his greeting. Not even when Geralt kissed the top of his head and rubbed his arms vigorously to warm him up because, “I know you have a sweatshirt in your backpack.”

Jaskier shrugged and leaned into his chest, “I kinda forgot.”

“You weren’t cold?”

“Well now that you mention it....” Jaskier forced a playful tone and got two handfuls of Geralt’s ass, that wonderful, perky ass. And it did absolutely nothing to him. 

Geralt frowned and tilted his head, brushing the damp hair out of jaskier’s eyes, “I was gonna invite you to shower. But you don’t sound excited.”

Jaskier sighed and gave him a weak smile, “I want to be excited.”

Geralt just tilted his head the other direction and tightened his grip on Jaskier’s shoulders and oh wasn’t that nice. That eased the ache a little bit. 

“I’m just a little anxious from work,” Jaskier assured him, patting his hands over Geralt’s perky asscheeks, “Go shower. I’ll be good by the time you’re done.” 

“Are you sure?” Geralt slouched just a bit to draw Jaskier’s eyes to his, “Come with? I’ll wash your hair?” 

Jaskier shook his head with a little smile, “Tempting. But I’ll drink some tea under my blanket then we can enjoy our evening.” 

Geralt kissed his forehead and gave him a quick but firm hug before darting down the hallway to rush through his shower. Jaskier measured his breathing as he made tea, now fairly familiar with Geralt’s kitchen, and settled down on the couch to dig through his backpack for his weighted blanket. 

Only it wasn’t there. His backpack had felt light when he left but it was just such a hectic day and he’d just wanted to see Geralt so bad. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, seeing his hands start to shake as he rezipped his pack, “It’s just a little anxiety Jask. It’s fine. You are fine. It isn’t the end of the world. It will pass. It’s just because that asshole yelled at you, not anything to do with Geralt. You two are fine, good even…” 

He sat back on the couch and pulled his knees into his chest, clutching at the mug of too-hot tea to keep his hands from shaking. Every few seconds he remembered he had to breathe, and do so slowly, if he wanted to get through this feeling and he would gasp a little bit with the realization he hadn’t been. He whispered his logical thoughts he’d prepared for this. The spiral would get a little momentum and he’d count his breaths and repeat his prepared sentences and he’d feel it receding but that was as much momentum as he could get. 

As soon as he started to calm down, he’d think about Geralt coming out of his shower to see him like this and it would start up again. He’d managed to keep his anxiety under control in front of Geralt so well. Geralt was so calm and steady and gentle that Jaskier hadn’t had to try so hard to begin with. But now his crazy was all out on the table and he wasn’t quite mentally prepared to be thrown out of Geralt’s house. 

In the middle of repeating one of his calming thoughts, he heard Geralt pad around the couch and felt more than saw him sit down.

“Jask?” Geralt’s voice didn’t quite sound real, but it was still soft and gentle enough not to spike his anxiety any worse, “You okay?”

He just shook his head and forced himself to exhale slowly. 

“What’s wrong?”

Jaskier swallowed hard and whispered with more effort than he’d like to admit, “Just an anxiety attack. I… I forgot my weighted blanket.” 

Gods did that feel horrible. Admitting to your hot new boyfriend that you have a security blanket at 30 and it sends you into an anxiety attack when you leave it at home wasn’t really on his to do list, but here he fucking was. 

Geralt gripped the tea mug by the rim and took the now lukewarm tea before his shaking hands spilled it all over his knees, “What do you need?”

Jaskier felt tears brimming behind his eyes and squeezed them shut, “Wh- what?”

“What do you need? To help you.”

“Oh,” Jaskier opened his eyes and tears fell down his cheeks, “No one’s ever asked me that before...”

Geralt took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling and offering his hand to Jask, palm up, “Can we try something that helps my brother?”

Jaskier nodded, he didn’t even care what it was, he was too shocked by the realization that Geralt wasn’t scared off or disgusted with him. 

“Your weighted blanket helps, right?”

Jaskier nodded and set a trembling hand in Geralt’s palm, swiping at his face with the other. 

“Can I hold you? See if that helps?” 

Jaskier nodded again and uncurled from his ball a little bit so Geralt could pull his legs over his lap and wrap his arms around Jaskier’s body. He squeezed a little tighter than his usual hugs but the pressure was just barely registered with the way Jaskier’s body was in overdrive. Regardless, he burrowed into Geralt’s shoulder, partly to hide his tears and partly because it felt safe. 

“How’s this? Are you okay?”

Jaskier nodded, “Can you squeeze tighter?”

“How about we lay down?” 

“Lay down?” Jaskier’s voice cracked on his words but he barely even noticed. 

Geralt rested one large hand over his soft brown hair, “I could be your weighted blanket? It works for Skel sometimes.”

“Yeah- yeah, okay,” Jaskier muttered as he forced his creaking knees to straighten as Geralt laid him back onto the couch. Geralt positioned them so he was laying on his side against the back of the couch and Jaskier was on his back in front of them. He laid his head on Jaskier’s shoulder and half draped his body over him, just testing the waters. 

That alone was nice, but the little bit of relief only made Jaskier crave more. He tugged at Geralt’s elbow, not really pulling but guiding him to completely cover him. That was perfect. Jaskier could think a little clearer after a few seconds, then he could feel his limbs again and hummed happily. 

“Good?” Geralt’s hopeful smile beaming up at him from where he was resting his chin on Jaskier’s sternum was bright enough to end wars. 

“Very.”

Geralt closed his eyes and sighed, that soft little smile still on his face. Jaskier took a deep breath and basked in the way Geralt’s torso pinned him to the cushions. His thighs were pressed over his legs and pleasantly heavy and the way he’d cushioned his chin with his hands meant Geralt’s lovely, squishy, heavy arms were keeping his shoulders down. 

After a few minutes Jaskier felt the post-anxiety exhaustion hit that let him know it was really over, but he didn’t want to move. Instead he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s ribs and laced his fingers together over his spine. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes closed with a tired smile, “You’re the best weighted blanket I’ve ever used.” 

“Anytime,” Geralt’s voice reverberated through Jaskier’s body in the most soothing way, deep and strong but gentle as well, “I mean it. You don’t need to hide this from me. I want to help.”

Jaskier giggled, “Oh don’t tell me that.”

One of Geralt’s hands floated up to trace Jaskier’s jaw and the high points of his cheekbones, “Why not?” 

“Well, I might believe you. It's a little overwhelming- believing you. -And my anxiety,” Jaskier clarified, brushing his thumb over Geralt’s back as he spoke.

“That’s okay.”

Jaskier frowned and looked down at his boyfriend. He was staring up at him with ridiculously round eyes and his eyebrows drawn in and together with a not-so-subtle pout to his lips. Regardless of the cute face, his eyes held sincerity. And Jaskier didn’t really know what to do with it. 

“I-” Jask took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling as he spoke, “I’m used to hiding it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Geralt tapped Jaskier’s chin to get him to look at him, “Yeah, that’s okay. If it’s hard for you to tell someone, that’s okay. We’ll work with it.” 

If he weren’t pinned underneath Geralt at an uncooperative angle, Jaskier would have kissed him, but he settled for resting his palm on his jaw, “You’re too sweet to me.”

“You deserve it,” Geralt hummed, turning his head to kiss his wrist. 

For once, Jaskier didn’t fight him on it. 

[expectingtofly]

Take a Load Off

2.5k

fluff, post-canon, human!cas, anxious dean, established dean/cas

(i saw this post by @emptymeg and couldn’t get it out of my head, so here’s a fic :)

also posted on ao3

“What’s in the box?” Dean asked, coming into the library to see Cas setting a large package on the map table with a huff. The table creaked under its weight. “Hey, name that movie.”

Cas cocked his head. “What movie?”

Dean groaned. “Seriously, dude, you’re hopeless. What’s in the box! Brad Pitt?” Cas shrugged and Dean sighed. “Forget it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Cas said, fetching scissors from a drawer, “This box is for you. I bought you something.”

“Oh?” Dean came to the table, interest even more piqued. “What kind of something?”

Cas gave him a look. “Not what you’re thinking.” He cut through the tape securing the box. “I read that this can relieve stress and help you sleep better.”

“I already know something that can do that.” He added a wink for good measure.

“So,” Cas continued, ignoring him, “I thought you should try it. You haven’t been getting enough sleep lately and I’m worried about your anxiety levels.”

“Wait a moment,” Dean protested. “What do you mean, my ‘anxiety levels’?” Cas opened the box and he leaned over to look at the contents. Folded, silky dark grey fabric. “What is that, a blanket?”

“A weighted blanket,” Cas corrected, heaving it out of the box. “Twenty pounds.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He plucked at the fabric. “This is supposed to help?"

“It’s proven by science.” He nodded at a chair by Dean. “Go, sit.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean sat down and Cas draped the blanket over him. “Fuck.” Dean lifted his arms up under the blanket, then dropped them. “This is actually heavy.”

“Do you feel relaxed?”

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You don’t look it at all,” Cas deadpanned and Dean kicked at him. Cas pulled a brochure out of the box. “Soft cotton filled with poly pellets,” he read. “Alleviate anxiety and increase serotonin.” He studied Dean, eyes squinted. “You still look tense.”

“Sorry, Cas.” Dean shoved the blanket to the floor with a thump. “Think you got duped.”

“You’re not doing it right,” Cas grumbled, picking it up off the ground. “You have to give it a chance.”

“I just gave it a chance.” Standing, he brushed Cas’ hair off his forehead, gave him his best you love me smile. “Now, do you really wanna help me relax?”

Cas studied him for a long moment, then said, “Okay.” He carefully folded the blanket. “We’re keeping this, though. I still think it’ll work.”

Dean made a face behind his back and started to follow him out of the room, but the phone Sam had recently installed in the library for a hunter hotline started ringing. He groaned and Cas hesitated in the doorway.

“Do I have to?” Dean asked him.

“I suppose so,” Cas sighed and set the blanket down on a chair. Turns out the call was from a hunter out near Boise who needed help with a case. Of course, Sam was away visiting Eileen, so he and Cas got stuck spending the next two hours going over the case information, trying to figure out what the monster was. They finally settled on vetala, a whole pack of them, and after instructing the hunter on how to kill them, Dean hung up the phone.

“Fuck,” he swore, rubbing at his eyes. “Who knows how big the pack is. Could be a whole dozen of the freaks.”

“Well, now she knows how to kill them,” Cas said. “And there’s other hunters in the area who can help.”

“Yeah...” Dean fiddled with his pen, tapping it on the open pages of his dad’s journal.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

Dean realized he was frowning. “Nothing.” Flexing his shoulders, he stretched out his back, stiff from poring over books. “Just, three people are already dead. I better be right that it’s a pack of vetala.”

Reaching over, Cas rubbed his back in small circles and Dean leaned back into his hand. “We did all we could, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t so sure that was true. But, short of driving all night out to Boise, he supposed there wasn’t much else they could do. Still, he didn’t like the idea that he might’ve missed a clue, might’ve misled the hunter. He clicked his pen again and again, going over the case in his mind, worst case scenarios—

“Are you going to sleep now?” Cas asked, and Dean glanced at him.

“No.” Dropping the pen, he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “Don’t think I can now.”

“Would you say you’re feeling stressed? Anxious, perhaps?” Cas deliberately looked to his right and Dean followed his gaze to the weighted blanket folded on a chair.

“Dude, don’t even start.”

“You should use it,” Cas urged. “There’s no shame in feeling anxious, I often feel the same way too.”

“I’ve dealt with worse before, this is nothing new. Just comes with the job.”

Cas sighed. “You put too much on your shoulders.”

Dean shrugged. “Like I said, comes with the job.” If he wasn’t always on edge, he figured he was doing things wrong. Get too comfortable and bad things happened. Just the way it was.

“Still, you can admit you need a break.”

“Jeez, Cas, I’m wounded.” Dean pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Cas rolled his eyes and stood. “Don’t stay up too late.” He seemed to hesitate, fighting against saying more, and Dean said,

“I’m fine, Cas, really.”

“Okay.” Cas didn’t look too convinced, but he kissed Dean goodnight and headed off to their bedroom.

Dean cleaned up the mess of books and papers on the table, turned off the lamps just to do something with his hands. Normally, this is when he’d grab a drink, try to calm his head, but he’d been trying to cut back lately—blame Cas’ concern for his liver—so instead he decided to head to the Dean Cave. Maybe a few episodes of Dr. Sexy would distract himself enough to sleep.

Leaving the room, his eyes fell on the weighted blanket again. Cas and his ridiculous ideas. If Dean hadn’t been sleeping too well lately, that was just the result of living their kind of life. Nothing to do about it. Ignore the stress or end up drowning in it, that was his motto.

(And a horrible coping method, according to Sam and Cas)

Either way, lying under twenty pounds of “cotton and poly pellets” wasn’t going to help. Though the blanket had been really soft, he’d give it that.

He forgot all about it the following day, though, when Sam found a case a few towns over, and Dean and Cas drove over to meet him there. Disturbed gravesites, people disappearing near the cemetery at night. A ghoul, by all signs. A day of morgue visits and interviewing witnesses, then another two days of sitting parked in the cemetery, waiting for the ghoul to emerge again and feed. Dean was almost happy to see the thing when it crawled out of its grave. Almost.

Killing the damn thing hadn’t been too easy. But after inadvertently destroying a few gravestones, nearly falling into an open grave, and narrowly avoiding losing a few limbs, they finally bashed the ghoul’s brains in thoroughly, and split up from the cemetery. Dean went to speak to the latest victim’s mother while Cas and Sam got rid of the remains.

Returning to the bunker first, Dean showered, blood and ghoul remains washing away down the drain. But even the warm water couldn’t ease the jitteriness sitting high in his chest. The ghoul had been strong, fast, and Dean’s heart had leapt into his throat when it got a hold of Sam. Even Cas had struggled to stop the thing, gunshots only serving to anger the son of a bitch more.

Getting out of the shower, he scrubbed himself dry with his towel, inspected a cut along his arm. Not deep enough for stitches. If Sam had avoided a concussion, they were lucky. The ghoul was dead, at least. Left a dozen ruined graves and a few torn apart teenagers in its wake, but dead.

As he changed into clean clothes, he heard the bunker door open. “All good?” he asked, entering the war room to find Sam and Cas setting down their bags.

“If you mean will the trunk always reek like ghoul, then yes,” Sam said. He grimaced as he took off his boots, muddy footprints already leaving a trail down the bunker stairs. Then he glanced at his phone and smiled, said, “Eileen’s calling.”

“Whipped,” Dean mouthed at him as Sam answered his phone, smiling at the screen and walking off down the hallway. “Well,” he told Cas, ”you look like shit.”

Cas gave him his best, I can smite you even without my grace look. “Charming.” He headed off down the hallway towards their bedroom and Dean followed. “How did Mrs. Landis take the news?”

Dean sucked in a breath. “Uh, 'bout how you'd expect, I guess. Told her a bear had gotten to her son, but it was all taken care of now. Not much else to say.”

The mother had sobbed and thanked him. He’d done a piss poor job of comforting her and left with an all-too-familiar sick feeling in his stomach; they hadn’t done enough, they could never save everyone.

“And you?” Cas asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at Dean as he pushed open the door to their bedroom. “Are you alright?”

Dean started to nod, say fine, but he knew Cas would see straight through the lie. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he shrugged, dropping his hands into his lap. “Just shook up. Coulda been a bad one.”

Cas nodded as he pulled off his trenchcoat, the edges bloody and muddy. “We’re all safe. You don’t have to torture yourself thinking about what could’ve happened.”

Dean shut his eyes, took a deep breath. “I know.” Easier said than done.

He heard Cas’s footsteps, then felt Cas’ fingers on his cheek and tilted his head into his palm. Breathed in and out. Cas smelled like blood and guts and sweat, not a particularly pleasant combination, but his hand was warm and his other hand was carding through his hair and, shit, that felt nice.

“Go to sleep,” Cas said quietly. “You need rest.”

Dean nodded and Cas kissed the top of his head. He left to take a shower and Dean scrubbed his hands over his face.

Fuck, this hunt had been a close one. Closer than they’d had in a long time.

Dropping his hands, his eyes settled on the weighted blanket that Cas had left folded on the chair at the desk, a silent plea for him to use it. He rolled his eyes. Anxious, his ass.

He started to pull the covers back on the bed, but the thought of lying down with the hunt running on repeat through his head was less than appealing. Cas’ trenchcoat hung bloody on the wall, and Dean clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking, adrenaline and nerves still rushing through him.

Alright, maybe a little anxious.

With a glance at the door to convince himself Cas would be in the shower for a little while longer, he grabbed the blanket, brought it to their bed.

Getting under the covers, he draped the blanket over himself and lay down, shifting to get comfortable. Once settled, he stared up at the ceiling and waited for the miracle blanket to work its wonders. How much money had Cas spent on this shit? He really had to hide the credit cards.

He shifted again, the mattress creaking, and dropped back with a huff. Not that he didn’t appreciate Cas trying to help, but a twenty-pound blanket wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was a full night of sleep and a blow job and an all-expenses-paid trip to Cancún. His nose was itchy, his knee was bruised, his back was fucked up from getting thrown against a gravestone, Sam had already found another case in Albuquerque, and, fuck, he was just so damn tired.

Shutting his eyes, he forced himself to breathe through the sensation of his chest tightening. He could feel the blanket rise and fall with every deliberate breath, and he counted like Sam had taught him years ago when he’d woken with a panic attack—breathe in for seven seconds, hold for four, let out for eight.

Don’t think about what could’ve happened. We’re all safe. Cas is safe, Sam is safe. I’m safe.

His heartbeat slowly settled. The blanket’s weight was strangely comforting, warm, trapping him under the covers. Forced to stay still, he felt his limbs slowly relax into the mattress, the tenseness in his shoulders dissipating, his back easing and hands curling loosely along the sheets.

Okay. Shit. Maybe there was something to this weighted blanket thing. His mind grew hazier as his thoughts began to wander, and he found himself drifting off to sleep when the bedroom door creaked open and startled his eyes open.

“You’re using it,” Cas whispered excitedly, standing in the doorway. “Are you relaxed?”

“Fuck off,” Dean told him. He would’ve flipped him off, but that would require lifting his hand out from under the blanket and he was too—dammit, Cas was right—relaxed to move.

“I knew it would be perfect,” Cas said, sounding too triumphant. Shutting the door softly, he got into bed next to him—well, tried to. He shoved at the blanket encroaching on his side of the bed. “Dean, move over.”

“Nope.” Dean shut his eyes again. “Reap what you have sown.”

Grumbling, Cas turned off the light and got under the covers with more rustling and movement than necessary. Finally, he settled down. The bunker hummed, the heating running, the pipes in the walls creaking as a shower turned on down the hallway. The blanket heavy on top of him, Dean began to fall asleep again.

“Are you really gonna keep that on all night?” Cas asked, disturbing the quiet.

“Yup.”

Cas huffed and Dean could only keep up the ruse for a few more seconds before lifting the edge of the blanket. “Come on, get under.”

Sliding over, Cas got underneath, and they laid side by side, pressed against each other. Their fingers brushed, and Dean crooked a finger around Cas’ thumb.

“This is nice,” Cas commented, voice quiet. “I’m glad it’s helping.”

“Mhm.” He was starting to think he should’ve bought one of these things a long time ago. He hadn’t realized how strung out he was before until now, all the tension in his body slipping away.

Cas shifted onto his side and Dean blinked open his eyes to look at him. “I guess I was right all along, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t push it.” He caught Cas’ smile in the dark and elbowed him on principle before shifting over to kiss him. Then he tugged at Cas’ arm and turned onto his side, prompting Cas to press close against his back and wrap an arm around him.

He smiled, eyes falling shut at the warm press of the blanket and Cas’ body around his. Now he was relaxed.

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[babbushka]

The Rabbi Is Coming

Flip Zimmerman x Reader (Darling Jewish Wife AU)

A/N: This oneshot is based entirely off of one of my favorite videos of all time, Company is Coming by Chris Fleming. Every time I see it, it reminds me of preparing for my own family holiday gatherings, so I’ve taken it and run with it lol. I just wanted to write something short and silly for Passover, lol, and I hope you enjoy! 

Also inspired by this prompt sent in by anonymous: From your Passover prompts, will you please do this one for Flip? It sounds just like him!“They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat.”

2k, crack treated seriously lol, humor. Putting a small cw for the Zimmerman’s son, in case folks don’t like reading about kids (this is the last time he’s mentioned for a while I promise lol)

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

Early in the morning, just after sunrise, Flip yawns and stretches awake. The golden light of morning shines through the curtains that gently move from the breeze of the ceiling fan, and a melody of chirping birds signal the official start of morning. Despite having to get up early for work every day, Flip isn’t much of a morning person. But something about Springtime and the warmth that’s on the way makes him appreciate getting up, even on the weekends.  

“Good morning, sunshine, light of my life – ” Flip rolls over onto his side, ready to coax you out of your sleep as well, ready to kiss you and start the day together, but when he reaches you’re your sleep-snuggled body, he finds the bed empty, and frowns.

Sitting up, he looks around the bedroom. Your side of the covers are neatly made, and Flip can only blink, his frown deepening. He clears his throat, raspy from disuse overnight, “(Y/N)?��

It isn’t until he hears the vacuum cleaner going downstairs, followed by a frustrated groan echoing through the house, that he remembers just what day it is, and falls back onto his pillow with a wince, lighting up a cigarette and scrubbing a hand over his face with a low,

“…Oh shit.”

He checks the clock, sees that it’s practically seven o’clock, and gets out of bed. Pulling on a casual t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, he leaves his room to see his son standing tentatively in his own doorway, as loud sounds come from downstairs.

“Pop?” The five year old asks with no small amount of hesitation in his voice, immediately reaches for Flip, who scoops him up and balances him on his hip.  

“Mornin’ honey.” Flip kisses his son’s cheek, and the boy giggles, clinging to him as Flip walks down the stairs.

He’s obviously annoyed that it’s not you who gets to wake him up and carry him downstairs, as he normally prefers, but Flip doesn’t know how to tell him that today isn’t a normal day. Still, the boy is always filled with questions, and his little eyebrows furrow into an all too familiar frown as they move closer to the chaos that is you deciding to vacuum first thing in the morning.

“Why is Mama acting like that?” He demands to know, as the two of them stop at the landing, watching as you, still in your pajamas, are fighting with furniture.

“Tonight’s the first night of Pesach.” Flip explains.

“So?” His son challenges, and Flip wants to laugh, because he agrees with the kid, but when you get into a mood like this, there’s no stopping you.

“So, there’s a very special guest coming for dinner tonight, and she wants to make sure the house looks nice and clean for him.” Flip sets the boy down, and he purses his lips, like he’s trying to assess the validity of that, eventually settling on complaining,

“But we already cleaned the house.”

Flip sighs, because he’s right, you spent the entire week cleaning to prepare for Passover. It wasn’t like a normal house cleaning, Passover had special rules that had to be obeyed. One of which, was the complete and total elimination of chametz, or food made from leavened dough. The other, was the koshering of the kitchen.

But he wasn’t so sure his five year old would care to hear about all that this early.

“I know son. Let’s go see what she fixed up for breakfast,” Flip leads his son through the living room carefully, before crouching down to his level and saying very seriously, “And then when you’re done eating, just do whatever Mama says, you hear me? Whatever she says.”

Just then, you come barreling through the living room with the vacuum and a tangle of cord in your hand, shouting at a completely inappropriate volume for the hour, “Zeeskiet if you haven’t made your bed just throw it away it’s too late to make it now!”

The boy looks up at Flip, and Flip immediately shakes his head and amends, “Not that.”

Flip is a good helper. He likes to help, and he wants to help, but sometimes when you get like this, it’s a danger to himself and everyone around for him to try and insert himself into a situation where you are a hurricane of anxious energy. He busies himself with getting your son settled at the kitchen table, giving him a big breakfast of fresh fruit, nuts, and yogurt, before bracing himself to venture back towards the dining room.  

“The Rabbi is coming – get rid of the couches we can’t let people know we sit!” You shout, pointing an aggressive finger at one of the dining chairs, “This chair needs to be pushed in, there cannot be any signs of living in this house.”

Flip is quick to do as you say, even though what you’re saying is nonsense – he knows better than to point that out.

“I don’t care if we have to throw everything out,” You’re mostly talking to yourself at this point, just…loudly, and aggressively, “I want this place looking like a contemporary fusion restaurant by noon.”

It was a miracle and a half that the Rabbi agreed to lead your Seder dinner, and to say that the pressure was getting to you was the understatement of the century. You had everything picked out, what you were going to wear, what Flip and the kids were going to wear; you’d been cooking and prepping all week, and now the day was finally here and you were totally freaking out.

“Flip?” You shout, walking in circles around the dining room, trying to get rid of any possible point of contamination of chametz.

“Yeah?” Flip replies, already knowing that because he’s in the other room, you probably can’t hear him. He already is walking towards you when he hears you again.

“Phil!” You call a little sharper, and Flip huffs out a laugh, his suspicion correct.

“I’m right here ketsl, what can I do?” Flip startles you by suddenly being behind directly behind you, and you throw your hands up in exasperation.

“Oh my god – we need more pillows.” You gesture to the den where the conversation pit is decked out entirely with pillows. “Can you fluff the pillows? I need these things looking fluffed.”

Flip does exactly as he’s told, and the rest of the morning follows suit.

You wandered around the house cleaning; vacuuming sweeping dusting sanitizing every possible surface, the floors, even the ceiling, shouting out random demands and requests like:

We need more flowers. We gotta put flowers in every window. Philly can you put flowers in the kitchen?

We can’t have any clothes! Everyone take off your clothes!

At that, your son cast a semi-distressed look to Flip and asked, an uncertain, “Pop?”

“Not that either!” Flip immediately answered, lest his son think it’s okay to go running around in the nude tonight.

Somewhere around hour two, your mood shifts from manic to meltdown. Your son had been instructed to make sure his toys were all nicely put away in his room, mostly to keep him out of trouble or to prevent any accidental tripping over wires. Flip though, is still running around trying to keep up with you, out of breath from your own chaos.

“What is this?” You yank the perfectly good little towel out of the oven door handle where Flip had just watched you place it, and near-tears, you groan, “This is a dish towel! We need a hand towel! What are we, barbarians?”

He’s about to say something, try to console you or at the very least calm you down, but then you come to a complete and sudden stand-still and point out, “Phil oh god there’s muffins on the counter.”

Frowning, Flip whirled around and wondered how the fuck those even got there. All of your friends knew that there was absolutely no leavened product allowed in the house, Rabbi or no, and he’s trying to wrack his brain around where they came from as you back against the wall.

“Oh my god oh – that’s it -- we have to go into the witness protection program folks!” You chuckle humorously, effectively giving up. “Shalom Rabbi! Welcome to the Zimmerman household. We live outside. We eat mud. And sticks.”

At this, you give one big overwhelmed sigh, and a little sob hiccups out of your chest.

“Hey,” Flip frowns, kicking himself for not trying to get you to take a breather earlier than this, “Hey it’s going to be okay.”

Flip gets down on the floor with you, and pulls you into a tight hug. You shove your face under his neck and cry it out, and Flip soothes your back. He knows how big of a deal tonight is for you, and he wants to do everything he can to make you happy, but letting this go on any longer won’t be good for anyone.

“I’ll get rid of the muffins, we won’t tell anyone about it, okay?” He pulls you to face him, your eyes wet and wide, your chin wobbling. He thinks you’re so ridiculous, working yourself up like this, but he loves you so much to see it regardless.

“Did you fluff the pillows?” You ask in a small sad voice, and Flip nods seriously, brushing some of your stray locks that escaped the scarf you have wrapped around your head to protect your hair, away from your face.

“Yes ketsl, I fluffed the pillows.” He kisses each of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your forehead.

“Okay, alright okay, everyone calm down.” You say, wiping your tears away and taking deep measured breaths, suddenly asking, “What time is it?”

“Uhh,” Flip cranes his head around to try and catch a good glimpse at the clock on the wall, wondering how the hell it’s only, “Nine-thirty.”

You blink, and blink again, and then shuffle to sit upright there on the kitchen floor.

“Oh.” You reply, pursing your lips and scratching the side of your jaw. “In that case…I’m going to take a nap.”

Flip chuckles and lets you go. You’re too much all the time, and that’s exactly why he loves you. He’s never met anyone who cares as much about something like this, than you, and he wants you to go relax while he takes care of everything.

And he does, his son a proper helper as you snooze in bed, already having worked yourself to exhaustion and needing your strength back for the long dinner that’s going to come. The offending muffins are given to a neighbor, the surfaces re-sanitized, the kitchen all prepared. Your son even sets the table all by himself, enjoying being tall for his age thanks to Flip’s genetics.

When evening falls much later, and all your other guests have arrived, you feel your pulse spike as the doorbell rings. You’re dressed to the nines, as is everyone else, but Flip thinks that you’re the most radiant thing in the universe. You’re holding your son on your hip as Flip opens the door, already extending a hand for him to shake.

“Shalom Rabbi, thank you so much for joining us tonight, we can’t tell you how much of an honor it is.” You beam, as if you hadn’t had a total breakdown only that morning, as Flip invites the Rabbi inside.

“Of course Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, the honor is mine. And may I say, you have a beautiful home.” He looks around appreciatively, giving a nod of approval that has all the air rushing out of your lungs.

“I’m thrilled to hear you think so.” You grin, leading him through your home and into the dining room where your other guests have been happily entertaining themselves, “Shall we get started then?”

“They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!” Flip announces, and that has everyone laughing, including the Rabbi.

And as the Seder commences, Flip looks across the table and gives his son a wink. In return, he lets out a small giggling laugh, glad that all the preparations and chaos you put them through have successfully paid off.

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

Taggin’ some Flip lovin’ friends! @mochabucky​​ @sacklerscumrag​​ @artsymaddie​​ @bitchydecisions​​ @direnightshade​​ @reyloaddict55​​ @thembohux​​  @sunflowersinthesnow​​ @babayagakeanu​​ @safarigirlsp​​  @steeevienicks​​  @the-unmanaged-mischief​​ @materialisthicc​​  @hswritingrecs​​  @han68000​​ @rosi3ba3z​​ @chapterhappygirl​​​ @loverofallthings​​​  @bxnnywriting​ @groovetoob​ 

[lovelivingmydreams]

Paper Flowers: the final count down

Roman and Virgil have a fight as the end of their character’s time on Vine draws nearer every day.

You are giggling as you finish reading a PrincexNemesis fanfic on AO3.

It was a great story about Nemesis, named Marcus/Marcia in the story, was cursed at a young age to switch gender every time the sun passed the horizon. Leading to the poor kid being Marcia by day, the Prince’s bethroted whom he could not stand, and Marcus by night, the Prince’s sworn enemy who he was madly in love with. It was mainly a very funny story and the author left it very vague which gender Nemesis was born with. All they said was that Nemesis would be stuck with the gender they were when the received their first kiss. Which was given to them as Marcus. The tension came from whether Nemesis would be able to avoid getting stuck as Marcia on the wedding day, as he preferred Marcus.

It was very funny, but also surprisingly deep. Or maybe you are reading too much into it.

Just when you pressed ‘post’ on your comment you get an alert.

It’s vine time!

The video opens up and you see Prince pushing of an enemy and stabbing him.

You can hear a cheer and the camera turns to dad. “That’s my boy!” he cheers.

Prince kisses a maidens hand. Once more a shout is heard and you see dad. “Great job buddy!”

Prince polishes his sword, yet another shout. “Just look at you!” dad squeals from the doorway.

Prince looks up exasperated. “Can you not!?” Dad looks sheepishly and slowly glides out of view.

You wipe away a tear as you let your laughter subside. Everyone who’s been to any game or play ever has seen one of those parents.

You’ve seen people on tumblr who have jumped on this ‘the characters all live in the same kingdom’ concept and ran with it. It was a fun world they’d created. Teacher was the Prince’s tutor. Nemesis had several potential backstories, from the son of a nobleman to an orphan servant in the castle. Prince was, obviously, heir to the throne. And dad was either a nanny to the prince and other children in court, or father to the Prince or the nemesis. It made for some fun imagined shenanigans, that was for sure.

You are curious though, what will come next.

...

“No.”

Roman groaned in annoyance. “Anxiety, I don’t need your cooperation to propose a skit idea to Thomas,” he reminded him. He didn’t, he’d never asked before they became friends. But they’d been doing so well on communicating since. What, one might ask, made Roman dismiss Virgil’s input now?

A couple of bad nights, for starters. The fact that they’d been having this argument in front of Patton and Logan for the past half hour, meaning he had to keep up pretenses. And lastly, Virgil was just being difficult on purpose it seemed.

All Roman wanted was to have a nice final skit between their characters before they moved to youtube. There still would be skits involving either of them, but he liked the thought of wrapping up the nemesis story line before starting the story of the prince of creativity and Anxiety on youtube.

Virgil, however, seemed unwilling to even entertain the idea of another Prince vs Nemesis skit entirely. Let alone one to wrap up the semi storyline they’d made.

“Then go ahead and do it. See if I care!” Virgil growled before storming off.

Roman let out a frustrated sigh and dropped in the couch. “Impossible! That man is simply impossible sometimes!” he complained loudly. He was angry with Virgil right now. He wasn’t even going to try to deny that. Virgil could be infuriating sometimes.

And he was going to complain and pout as long as he liked, thank you very much. He was not the unreasonable one in this scenario.

“Kiddo, Anxiety is just like that. You know that he has a tendency to disagree on principle.”

Roman huffed. He knew better. Virgil was not usually difficult for no reason. He was a safety measure of sorts. He made sure they all thought through every decision. Every action.

Often a little too much, but he meant it well.

It was rare that he gave Roman no room to argue. A straight up ‘no’, even before their alliance, was rare. There were arguments, objections, doubts. But ‘no’ was usually with very good reason.

Roman just could not phantom the reason right now though. Which was why he was so angry.

He had learned to manage patience when he could see the source of Virgil’s concern. But now?

“Actually Patton, usually when Anxiety disagrees with us, he has at least some form of reasoning behind it. Be it of an irrational sort. It is not often that he gives no form of motivation behind his outbursts. This would lead me to believe that he has reasons, he just does not wish to discuss them, or maybe even might not wish to acknowledge them to himself.”

Roman listened to Logan making perfect sense, as he tended to do. But he didn’t feel like really thinking about that. He was still upset with Virgil.

“Or maybe he is just in a rude mood,” Roman objected stubbornly.

Logan took in a deep breath. “As much as I dislike figuratively feeding your ego, Roman, I feel like the positive changes in his behavior over the last year might be largely due to you.”

Oh, now this was something Roman was willing to pause his sulking for.

He shot up and looked at Logan expectantly.

Logan looked like he regretted speaking to begin with. Luckily for Roman, Patton had gotten curious.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Roman thought there was a strange sting to Patton’s voice, but he must’ve been mistaken, surely.

“Roman… You have been different ever since you asked for your memories of interactions with Anxiety… What was it that you found in there?”

Oh, no. Damn him and his promises.

Roman shrugged, feigning losing interest. “He saved Thomas and his friend earlier that day, and he didn’t seem to consider that a big deal. So I got curious and looked back and found that most of what he said, like you mentioned could maybe be read as trying to help somehow.”

Roman prayed Logan wouldn’t ask more. Luckily he didn’t.

“I see. I assume that this new information led to you changing your approach to your communication with Anxiety and this led to him being less tense around you.

He let you convince him to interact with us, he made an effort to explain himself and collaborated more on your projects,” Logan deduced.

“Could it be that to Anxiety, the start of that positive change in his life is connected to the skits between your character and his?” he wondered.

Roman’s eyes widened. “What? So me ending that storyline feels like me rejecting him or something?” he asks a little incredulously.

Logan looked up in surprise. “Well… That is a possibility,” he nodded. Why was he so shocked Roman could figure stuff out on his own. He could be empathetic enough for this. He might be the ego but he was not that self-centered. Bonds with others was high on his priority list too.

“The poor kiddo feels like he’s all alone now,” Patton mused sadly.

Roman got up. He was not ready to feel bad for Virgil. Especially when he was being ridiculous. As if Roman would end their friendship like this. Did he think so little of him?

He stormed off to his room and landed himself on his bed.

He wasn’t in the wrong, it was not his job to apologize. He kept repeating that to himself but occasionally he wondered if Virgil was overthinking right now. Thinking that Roman hated him now…

No. He was not in the wrong, he got to be mad if he wanted to. Virgil got to be mad with him when he got lost in a monologue and got all kinds of ideas stuck in Thomas’ head without consulting anyone making Virgil feel like he had to be the bad guy for scaring Thomas away from the ideas he loved too much to let anyone else convince him to adjust them.

He’d swallowed his pride and apologized to Virgil then.

So he was going to be petty and stubborn for as long as…

There was a knock at his door. Roman shot up and walked over to his front door and opened it. There was no one to be seen. When he looked down though, he saw something that took his breath away.

He picked up the paper purple hyacinth and the accompanying note.

“I know you are mad. Please let me explain before you hate me forever? I’ll be waiting.”

Roman let out a sigh. Purple hyacinths represent sorrow and regret. And it must’ve been such a pain to get the paper to bend to his will like this.

Now Roman had to go and meet Virgil. He put the flower in the vase along with the rest of the assemble bouquet and hurriedly opened the door to the field.

“Virgil?” he called out before he even closed it.

The anxious man was pacing through the field, trampling a path in the ground.

Luckily the field fixed itself every time they left.

Virgil looked up and his shoulders relaxed. Clearly he saw Roman’s swift arrival as a good sign.

His anger already fading, Roman added the hyacinths to the field to show he’d gotten his apology gift and accepted it.

“I thought about what I said… Or didn’t say and… Maybe I was just… I didn’t want us to stop making skits together,” he rambled, playing with his hoodie sleeves and pointedly not looking at Roman.

Roman let out a sigh. Logan had been on the right path then.

“Virgil, you really think that I did not enjoy working on those with you?” he asked.

Virgil shrugged.

“Well I did. Therefore I will call upon your aid any chance I get. I actually expect you to assist me quite often in the creation of the sanders sides series and many other projects. I merely wanted to give the fanders a satisfying ending to the adventures of the prince and his nemesis on vine,” he explained calmly.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah… I’m sorry. Really I am. I was pretty rude to you and you did nothing to deserve it,” he said softly, glancing up at Roman nervously.

“You are forgiven, Grim Creeper,” Roman smiled reassuringly.

Then he got an idea. It would let him vent the last bits of frustration and Virgil could maybe work of some angsty energy as well. “If you really feel like you’ll miss the prince and the nemesis that much though…”

And just like that Roman summoned two swords, tossing one to Virgil who caught it in surprise.

“I shall teach you the art of the blade!” he declared.

Virgil rolled his eyes but smirked. “Let me have it Princey,” he challenged.

...

While the two younger sides sparred in the field, the fatherly side was headed to the stairs leading down in search of an anxious sides room. Hoping he’d be let in now.

“Patton?” Logan called.

Patton flinched at being spotted. Though he wasn’t sure why. Was it so bad that he tried to help Anxiety?

“Hya Logan!” Patton greeted sheepishly. “I was going to make sure Anxiety was okay…”

Logan cocked his head. “Patton, I’m obviously no expert, but if my interpretation of his thought process of today was correct, he feels rather vulnerable right now. While that might mean he’s more open to sharing and closeness, it also means he might be in a state of heightened alertness.

If you attempt to approach him now you could very well make things worse with small mistakes.”

Patton bit his lip. Logan was right. Anxiety was not in a right state of mind. If Patton wanted to him to let him in, then it couldn’t happen when he was feeling hurt and alone. No matter how badly Patton wanted to comfort him. Going in now would be for Patton’s sake. Not Anxiety’s.

“We will make our way back to him Patton. Who knows? Maybe Roman’s youtube project lends us a chance to interact with him more frequently,” Logan offered.

Patton nodded. They’d get there. Sooner or later they’d be a happy family.

He just had to be patient and let Anxiety decide when he felt ready to try again.

Intorducing the sides

@vixdoesbadart @vpow @apinkline2715 @tired-yeetling @firegirl156 @soysaucevictim @1nsomniacwriter @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

[shelli-gator]

Hey I'm going through a rough time righ now, do u have any cute Panchulien hc's or scenarios that might cheer me up?

I love the content u create 4 them lmao

So I wrote you this <3 I hope you like it! One of my fav and earliest scenarios for them was Julien painting something for Pancho, and Pancho just -thrives- off seeing Julien happy about it. And also that the king would give him something.

Also, Julien totally deserved more support for his art than he got. I know Pancho was one of the people who gagged at his art, but I don’t think he actually knew it was his. And I do what I want. I can see Pancho humoring him to make him happy.

This also leads into a Valentines fic I have to still write for them fffff. But I’ll get to that xD. Anyway I hope you like this, and I hope you feel better! I’m here with more content/a ear to listen if you need it. :)

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

"Pancho, my man!"

His ears prick at the sound of his name, and the crowned lemur sits up on the rock where he's been lazily whiling the afternoon away in the shade, scratching at his chest absently.

King Julien trots up to meet him, wearing a decidedly keen smile with his paws tightly held around a length of canvas. The shade of the palms and fronds above them paints him in the subtlest shades of green, gold eyes gleaming with excitement even in the half light.

"Julio!" He throws a lopsided grin back at him, enjoying the way Julien seems to practically vibrate with glee at the use of his nickname, his ringed tail swishing and twitching, "What do ya need?"

"So," Julien starts off, trying and failing to maintain some composure, "I heard you're a, what, art collector-"

"Who told you that?!" Pancho barks, instantly on edge as he sits up a little straighter in his alarm, "Was it Horst? That friggin' rat! I'll kill him!"

"Hey! Relax man! You're totally killing my vibe." Julien scolds him before waving a paw dismissively, "And no it wasn't Horst. What's the big deals about it anyway?"

"Oh," Pancho deflates sheepishly, and he looks about awkwardly, rubbing his arm, "Er, n-no reason. Yeah I totally dig art. So, um, what about it?"

Julien perks up again, leaning in abruptly with his canvas, and Pancho grunts in surprise as he finds his space so suddenly invaded, "Well, as a collector of the fine arts, no collection is complete without a KJ original piece! I have made you this to grace your collection!"

He thrusts the canvas upon him with a clumsy air of pomp, and Pancho blinks hard, thoroughly staggered, "You made me this?"

"Of course! It is birthed from my creative juices!" 

Pancho makes a face at that, but he turns the canvas around to get a look at it, and his eyes widen, a strangled yelp of surprise escaping him.

For one, it's very... vivid, rays and bursts of orange, red and yellow radiating outwards from what looks to be an abstract character of… himself? He can only guess it's him, from the black crown and the ragged tooth smile he's got on his face.

The tentacles however? That's different, unless he suddenly sprouted them without him realizing it. They seem to be coming from his back. Wielding dynamite.

And is the canvas burnt around the edges?

Julien shifts on the spot, and Pancho looks over the rim of the canvas to see the King actually looking genuinely anxious, his tail curled around himself, “So, heh, what do you think? I used up all my orange paint for this one!”

If it had been literally anyone else, or perhaps another time, he might have put his nose up to such a thing. But all he can think about is that Julien made him this. That he cares about what he thinks of it. That the King would take time out of his day to make him something. 

As if he hasn’t given him so much already.

Pancho clears his throat, his lungs burning in his chest in the most agonizing and delightful way. Julien hangs on his response, his heart in his eyes as his gaze flicks over Pancho’s features, trying to read his response.

And when Julien’s ears slowly start to droop Pancho quickly pulls himself together, trying to throw together some coherent response, “Aw, I like it! Like a lot! It speaks to ya, know what I’m sayin’?”

Julien gasps dramatically, his pupils the size of dinner plates. He squeals happily to himself, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, “You mean that?! You like it? You really really like it?!”

“Heck yeah I do, what do I look like, some classless backwoods hack?”

“I’m not gonna answer that.”

“Did ya burn these edges?” Pancho presses, and he runs a finger over it, watching as the pad of his finger comes away black, burnt flakes coming off in places. He sniffs it for good measure, and Julien’s ears twitch adorably, betraying his interest.

“Yeah! Is that- is that good?”

“Oh yeah, like a mixed media piece, maybe some… er, abstract expressionism? Evokes all the senses!”

Julien is practically vibrating, and Pancho grins at him, enjoying seeing the King thrive off his praise. And then the ringtail hops up onto the rock beside him, scooting in eagerly to sit beside him with a giddy grin, “Yes! And there I was, hehe, worried you wouldn’t like it! How ridiculous is that?!”

Pancho snorts, resting the canvas on one knee while his arm rests atop it, trying to ignore the way his heart thumps! pointedly in his chest as Julien’s knee brushes against his own, “Wouldn’t dream of it, your Majesty.”

Julien sways on his perch beside him, still practically glowing, “I’ll make you something else, too! Ya know, to like, double the worth of your collection. Least I could do for my peeps.”

“Uh-huh,” Pancho chuckles dryly, rolling his eyes up towards him, “Thanks, Julio.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a beat, enjoying each other’s company and the filtered sunlight streaming in through the canopy. Pancho indulges himself, watching how it plays across the silvery fur on Julien’s stomach. He commits the feeling of Julien’s knee against his own to memory, hyper aware of every shift in Julien’s movement that he feels against his leg.

Finally he arches a brow at him, grinning playfully, “I gotta ask though. What’s with the tentacles?”

Julien giggles before waving his paw, rolling his shoulders with a smirk, “Consider it my artistic signature. And also, I really dig the tentacles. Imagine what you could do with those!”

“Yeah, I could steal, like, a bunch of stuff at once! More loot, baby!”

“Exactly!”

[sweeethinny]

No, I don't wanna fall in love

I really like this scene, but I never finished writing it, so I did it yesterday :)

James stayed focused on his potion, trying not to notice how close Mira was, and that when she moved her head, her hair brushed against him, as well as sometimes her arms beat and he felt a shiver run down his spine. They hadn't talked, in fact, the two seemed to ignore the fact that last weekend, they were almost swallowing up behind the Three Broomsticks. And it disturbed him.

The next day, James waited for Mira in the Common Room at dawn, they had all gone to see Hedite, as well as walking around the castle with Blanca while she was doing the rounds as Prefect, but the blonde did not come down from the room after they arrived, no matter how much he had implied that he wanted to speak to her.

On the other days, every time he tried to be alone with Mira, something happened, even Lily appeared to interrupt them, wanting his help on something to do with the flight lesson, a perfect excuse the girl found to escape.

He should be angry, as he was when Rosalia did it, but differently from the other time, this James was sad.

Their friendship had not been spoiled, not least because she was there, always beside him, but now everything seemed as before, and inside him, nothing was as it was before. How could it be? Kissing Mira was an almost otherworldly experience, his neurons barely knew how to organize themselves in the brain for hours -days-, there was no way to just move on as if it were just something stupid that had happened, like flying upside down.

Unlike what happened with Rosalia, James liked to go out with Mira and kiss her, he wanted to continue, do that again, repeat until his mouth fell, at the same time that he wanted to jump from the Astronomy Tower, because he felt so affected thus. It was exhausting, to say the least.

Yesterday, while he and the boys were studying in an empty room and she played the piano, he wondered what would happen if he kissed her again. It was masochism after all, so he chose to make up an excuse to get out of the room and help Lily learn to fly.

'What do we do? Do you want to study?' They were walking towards the Common Room, it was after eight when Michael and Piper had to follow Johann in detention, looking like two Azkaban inmates, and James was left with Mira (Blanca had gone to talk to McGonagall about something from her OWL's).

'I thought we were going to Hog's Head, to get a beer,' she commented, adjusting the Ghost Tears blouse out of her pants, the clothes bigger than her body and falling almost close to her thighs, while the red cap with a white pompom held her hair. 'What do you think?’

'Wanting to break the rules, Hazel?' James joked, and her black eyes rolled over, as a muffled laugh came out and her hand pushed his shoulder.

'Are we going or not? Because I can go alone.' She replied, in her usual way, lifting her chin to look tough while raising her eyebrow and looking at him as if she measured two heads more than she did, which made him laugh and nod, giving the password for the Fat Lady and letting it pass through the portrait hole first.

They prepared as they did in the old days, he took the cloak and the map just for security, she spent time around the Room, and they went out together carrying some bag - it was never good to leave empty-handed, unless you wanted someone to think that you went out to make out.

'I think Beth and Michael broke up.' The two hid by the cloak before going through the passageway that left at Honeydukes, since going straight to the pub was never a good option.

‘Man, don’t step on the cloak,’ James had to keep her close, much more than necessary, but all because of the cause, they couldn’t be caught. ‘They didn’t break up, they were kissing today.’ Why did she want to talk about their friend's relationship and not theirs? Girls... ‘Mira-’

'James.' She interrupted him. The two stopped, in the gloom of the cramped passage, only a faint light coming from the cracks in the wood on the floor, too close for James to think of anything other than kissing her. 'You first,' Mira said.

'No, you.' He would have to have at least five minutes to remember what he wanted to talk about, or more, her scent was getting strong on his nose and it confused him.

'I'm sorry for not talking to you about ... you know, the kiss.' Was Mira really blushing or was he imagining that? James wanted to be the cause of her blushing? He hated himself for thinking so.

'Huh ... ok.' The words seemed to have slipped from the brain, James was a little anxious. 'We are fine?'

'I think so, don't you?' Mira looked around, and then at him again. Her eyes almost disappeared in the darkness, but maybe his brain wouldn't be able to ignore them and complete them in his mind, anyway, they were a beautiful pair of black holes.

‘Yes.’ The height difference, however small, along with the proximity made him almost hit his chin on her nose whenever he moved his head, but he didn’t want to move away, not at all. James thought about saying many more things, or saying nothing and just kissing her. It was ridiculous how nervous she made him. 'Can I ask you something?'

'No,' James laughed, watching her turn forward and leave under the cloak. 'Let’s go, I want my beer.' Mira was the first to climb the narrow staircase, taking a good look at the store before nodding and sneaking out. He followed, still a little dizzy from how close they had come and how her citrusy smell had made him stay in the clouds. James threw the cloak back on it as soon as he finished closing the passage, looking both ways and seeing that everyone was far away and talking, seeming to pack up the new sweets that had arrived.

'You didn't even know what I was going to ask,' he said, and the two went out the back, the wind whirling in the half-empty village, looking a lot like the last time they were in that alley.

'It's less scary without your dad pointing a wand at our face,' She said, remembering the same day as James, and he nodded 'And of course I know, you're predictable, Potter.' It was not colder than the last few days, they still wore a scarf and gloves, some people even wore the thick, heavy boots their father wore when going on a mission in an absurdly cold place, some said it was the biggest cold front in years. James regretted not having wrapped up better before leaving.

‘What would I say then?’ His fingers were frozen and aching inside his coat pocket.

'That you are sorry for everything and-'

'Wrong.' He interrupted, Mira turned her head like a crow, blinking her eyes. 'I'm not sorry.' James shrugged, taking care to stay away from others, even if invisible. There weren't many people and the stores were still open, but it was always bad to run into someone.

'No?' He had to pull her by the sleeve to keep walking, Mira looked a little shocked by his revelation, but James tried not to take it to the staff as she looked shocked, as if it was even a bad thing he had liked to kiss her.

'Why would I feel it?' The Hog's Head seemed far away now and the air was heavy, but James remained steady, walking with his head held high. If she said that she didn't like it, or that he kissed badly, or anything ... Merlin, he should have said yes, that he was sorry.

'I don't know ... we are friends,' she said, and James thought it was a good point to remember, some nights his head seemed to forget that important fact. ‘What did you mean by that?’

‘We’re here,’ he said, ignoring her question. Before entering, they left the cloak, taking care not to be seen. 'Good night Mary.' The woman was cleaning the old counter, a goat standing next to her eating something that looked more like hay and a yellowish paste, and as always, it was empty at that time.

'Good night kids... shouldn't they be at school?' Abertnorth, the owner, was no longer down there, which was good, since he never liked James to appear, unlike Mary, who smiled and was kind.

'Just an escape,' Mira commented, sitting down on one of the high stools in front of the clean counter. 'You know how it is ... with the OWL’s coming and everything.' James sat next to her, leaving considerable space between their arms.

'Where are the other three?' Since last year, the five have always fled to that pub when they needed beer, or just go outside, making friendly faces for Mary to give them a few bottles before returning.

'Detention,' James said, and the woman, with auburn and short hair, raised her eyebrows and denied it, looking discredited.

'I can hardly imagine why ... The same as always?' They nodded and smiled excitedly, while the redhead disappeared to the back, preparing drinks for them to take (they always said they drank near the Shrieking Shack, just so that Mary wouldn't feel horrible for letting students smuggle something at Hogwarts).

‘Blanca and I-’

'It means that I enjoyed kissing you.' The two spoke at the same time, James completing the thought before his mind analyzed the situation well, taken by the urge to speak the truth. Mira's black eyes blinked at him, too big. It was so suffocating to look at Mira at those moments.

‘Oh…’ That was it, he kissed badly, there was no other explanation for someone making that face, but it was Hazel, the girl who looked like a potato every time something involved her feelings, and the thought made James have a little hope.

‘What does that mean?’ He asked, and he didn’t want to be irritated, but he was already clenching his teeth and feeling overwhelmed. Where's Mary with the beers?

‘What the fuck James, we’re friends!’

‘I am well aware of that Hazel, thank you.’ His molars would break soon, if he kept squeezing them like that.

'Don't be dramatic, Potter, you started it,' Mira pointed out. He rolled his eyes, pulling on his hair and feeling stupid. James thought he should have listened when Michael said that Mira would not want to be with him, and that it would end the group.

'Again, I'm well aware of that.' Mira sighed, denying and squeezing the Cat's Eye pendant that was hidden under her clothes, as she always did when she was nervous.

'Here, kids.' Mary dropped the two bottles on the counter, properly packed and safe, smiling affectionately. James insisted on paying, they talked a little more with the woman (neither of them seemed to want to face each other), and then, putting the bottles in the bag and hiding under the cover after leaving the pub, the two started their way back to Hogwarts.

There had been no conversations this time, the two were silent as death all the way, jumping into the Shrieking Shack, empty and dirty as always, because it was much easier to go back there after Honeydukes closed. James wanted to scream, ask her to say something, hit him, scream, do anything. He wanted to hear something.

But he didn't, he walked beside her as usual, they passed through the snow-white gardens and then they started up the stairs. The corridor to the Tower was empty and there was no one around, so they shed the cloak, which for him was even worse since Mira seemed to want to be as far away from him, eyes steady on the way.

Congratulations James, now you've screwed up, he thought.

The Fat Lady seemed to look at them expectantly, smiling as she watched them both approach and James felt comforted to see her seem sad by the silence, opening the portrait with no joke about the two disappearing together or anything else. In the Common Room, the girl's head seemed to almost smoke out of thinking, and she threw herself into one of the armchairs near the window she liked so much, taking off her cap and scarf, carefully opening the bag. They were not alone in the room, but there were not many people, some younger students here and there, too entertained in their conversations or in the music they played, to worry about both.

Throwing himself on the couch next to her, and placing Amethyst who came to greet them, Mira's cat, in his lap to have something to do with his hands, James wanted to get out of there, still feeling suffocated by the feeling that had ruined everything. It was excruciating, he didn't want to have feelings, no, he didn't even want to meet Hazel right now.

That was a lie, but he could be fooled into thinking that if he didn't know her, he wouldn't be suffering - but who's to say that his life wouldn't be miserable? Mira was the most fun person James had ever met.

'What did you mean by that?' Mira asked again, she didn't look him in the face, paying full attention to the sly cat on his lap, with her only eye closed and purring, it was good, after all not having the attention to you. James felt a little foolish to think that if Mira looked at him, he would say everything he had been hiding for almost three months.

'What I said.' James bent down to pick up one of the bottles from the bag, thanking them that they were away from the rest, and then opened it and took a big sip, his sandy throat thanking him for some liquid.

'Potter, we are friends. Best friends.’ It became sore the more she repeated it.

'You kissed me too.' His stomach clenched with anxiety. 'Was it bad?' James asked, not wanting to know the answer, at the same time that he couldn't help but ask.

'What?' Her eyes finally went up to him, her eyebrows high and her pale cheeks turned a reddish color, the beer in his hand was sweating cold and James was squeezing the bottle harder, trying to control all the emotions that seemed to want to suffocate him.

'It was bad. The kiss. Because, okay, we’re friends, but that can’t be your only justification, I just said that I liked what we did and it looks like I said I want to marry you.’

'Here you go again with this.' Mira rolled her eyes, looking irritated.

'Don't even start Hazel, answer the fucking question.' James also got angry, getting even more nervous, hyperactivity dominating all his senses, he felt vulnerable, like when Albus made him cry when they were kids and he hid from his parents so they wouldn’t see it.

'No. Merlin, James, no.' She messed up her blond strands, settling on the couch a little further away from him, and looking at the window that reflected the dark night outside, he waited. 'I don't want our friendship to end.' Mira looked at him.

'It's not over, at least I don't think so.' James shrugged, trying to look as unaffected as possible, but his monster wanted to break his rib cage and run away from that room.

'I'm sorry.' She rubbed her face in her hands, and Amethyst chose that moment to jump off James' lap, looking at him as if she blamed him, before going to her owner, as if she wanted to comfort her. ’I don’t want you to think about these things, but .. James, it’s too much for me to think about.’

'I think we're in it.' The silence was unbearable again, as he plucked the damp paper around the beer bottle in his hand and she paid attention to the cat, as if she also wanted to escape. 'I don't know what to think,' he admitted, after a while.

'Are we still friends?' She asked again, but this time, James could see in her eyes that Mira seemed very concerned about this, as he also felt when he thought of her in an unfriendly way.

'We never stopped being, Mira,' James assured, and she nodded, looking back at the cat. 'From 0 to 10-'

'I'm not going to answer that.' The blonde laughed nervously, denying and blushing as James followed her laugh, at least the tense moment seemed to have subsided momentarily. He thought he shouldn’t be so pleased that he made her blush and laugh like that, but he did.

'You don't even know what I was going to say.' James defended himself.

'I will not give a grade for your kiss, it is better not to even try.' Mira at least did not look angry, still smiling when she looked at him.

‘Ah, I’d really like to know,’ The silence returned and the boy didn’t even think before speaking; 'In case you want to know, it was 10.' He moved his shoulders and took another sip of his beer, also feeling flushed.

‘I don’t believe it, do you go around scoring everyone’s kiss?’ She was red, but she looked more confident than before.

'No, just for yours.' James blinked and smiled, happy to be able to disguise how nervous he felt, barely managing to control her hand before bringing it to her hair.

Neither said anything else, they drank their beers in silence, both of them looking lost in their own thoughts. He wanted to tell someone, Teddy took too long to answer and he also couldn't be bombarded by James' crude questions, he wanted to be able to tell Albus at least, or his father ... He could tell his father, as embarrassing as that was, he knew the man would give his opinion and help him, but perhaps his father thought it was very stupid that James interrupted his work to help him with his loving questions. Maybe at Easter they could talk.

'Let's forget about it.' Mira was the first to speak, dropping the beer next to her on the floor and running a hand through her blond hair.

'Come on, Hazel, I just said that your kiss is a score of 10, how would I forget that? It's not even an option,' he said, a little anxious that Mira wanted to forget the kiss while James wanted to kiss her until he lost all of the air in his lungs.

'We are friends.' Mira stared at him with big, dark eyes, looking at least ashamed, her cheeks flushed like two peppers. ‘I don’t want to ruin this.’

'But we are not ruining anything, you are the one who is saying this.' James defended himself, trying at all costs not to look flustered.

'We can't even be together in the same room without you looking awkward, and we can't even look at each other.' Redness ran down her cheeks, running down her neck and ears, and James wanted to throw himself off the tower because he thought she looked adorable .

'I can't look at you because I want to kiss you again, and every time it feels like I'm running out of breath and that I'm only going to breathe if we do it again. That's why I can't look at you. Besides, it was you who ran away from me in the last few days.’

'All of this is so confusing.' Mira hid her face in her hands, her hair falling beside her hands, the golden locks shining with the candlelight and the fireplace burning. ‘James…’

'If you say that we are friends again, it will hurt my ego, I swear.' James swallowed. 'Look, if you want ... if you want this to be just a slip, if, I don't know, you want to forget all of that, it's fine.' He felt his stomach churn, as if something inside him broke.

'You said you didn't want to forget.' Mira looked at him, her head still in one hand, her eyes as always seeming to send James into that hole where he felt suffocated, lost in feelings he couldn't name.

'But you keep reminding me that we are friends, so I believe that is what you want.' He shrugged, pretending to be okay with that. 'It's fine by me.'

'You’re sure? James, please- ’

'It's all right, Mira.' He smiled, placing the empty beer bottle and the label all wrecked by his nervous hands, next to hers on the floor, getting up and picking up the map and cloak, feeling anxious. ‘Tomorrow we have training early, don’t go to sleep late, you know that Helen hates delays.’

‘I like you, don’t be weird with me, please.’ Her hand cupped his, black eyes pleading.

'We are fine, Hazel, I promise,' James assured, even though his chest seemed to break into a million more pieces.

‘Why don’t you stay here? The boys are still going to take a while .. ’

'I need to finish my Potions essay, and if Michael knows that I took his to copy, I won't have peace for the rest of the week.' James smiled, squeezing her hand just once before releasing it, feeling suddenly empty. ‘Good night, Hazel.’

'Night, Potter.' James didn't look back, his ego aching, making him scowl to his room, ready to hide under the covers and ignore the outside world. He didn't even care about the essay anymore, he wanted everything to explode around him now that Mira had dismissed him.

He felt like an idiot for having tears in his eyes when he fell on the bed, forcing himself not to cry for a girl, even if that girl was his best friend and James had fantasized several times how things would occur when they talked about the kiss. Thinking that she was going to say that she also kept thinking about kissing him, and then they would be together, kissing for as long as they could.

James narrowed his eyes to wipe away the tears, hating that the scent of her perfume was on his shirt, as if Mira was there beside him, lying with him, as James had dreamed a few times in the past few weeks.

How many times did he think and remember what Mira looked like after they kissed, her cheeks pink and her hair messed up by his hands, her lips pink like when she ate strawberries. James still remembered the feeling of her kiss, of her hands in his hair, of her tongue dancing with his in a sync that James thought was perfect ... He felt like an idiot for being attracted to her.

For a second, he thought of calling his father in the mirror, just to have somebody to talk and feel less alone than he felt, maybe he and Harry could talk about the Easter vacation schedule, or maybe James would tell him that he had been feeling for Mira… But it made no sense to tell, not after she made it clear that they were just friends.

His chest burned, as did his watery eyes, when he looked at the photo he kept on the table beside the bed, of the two of them together at the ball, Mira wearing her beautiful blue dress, the constellation dancing across the fabric, while she looked more dazzling than ever, smiling from ear to ear when James pinched her waist, just to make her laugh.

The book she had given him for Christmas/birthday was there, where it always was, and just because James liked suffering, he picked it up, reading her well-drawn handwriting on the back cover:

'If I had another best friend, I would hit him and go after you.

I love you.

Mira. ’

Best friend. That's what they were, and James knew he should be thankful that Mira hadn't told him to stay away from her forever. But James couldn't do that now, not when he felt like a complete idiot.

[dragonseattofu]

Spaces Between My Fingers (NEO TWEWY fanfiction)

Summary: Neshiki NEO reunion. NEO TWEWY spoilers. Everyday for two years after Neku’s disappearance, Shiki sits behind Hachiko talking to what looks like herself, her hand securely in another that she can feel but can’t see. Warnings for depression and panic attacks. Check source content for Ao3 link.

Preview:

“Great work on the presentation Misaki-san!”

“Excellent job as always Misaki-san! Have a wonderful evening!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Shiki smiled and nodded at the outpouring of compliments from her staff as they filed out of the conference room. It was her last meeting of the day, and she was exhausted. Never in a million years could she have imagined being the youngest CEO of any clothing company, much less her own brand at the age of eighteen. But, being young didn’t make the responsibilities of a trending brand owner any less tiring. On the bright side, the remainder of the evening was all hers to spend at her own pace.

With that in mind, Shiki gathered her laptop and papers under her arm, turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. She retrieved her messenger bag from the coat rack in her office, pulled the keys from the front pocket, and said a habitual goodnight into the empty space before locking the office for the night.

The soft tapping of rubber on carpet filled the empty hallway on her way to the elevator, the sounds of mindess instrumental music soothed her tired nerves on her voyage down from the eight floor. Slow clicking of gears moving, and the opening the heavy metal doors woke her from her stupor, gesturing light apologies on her way out as more bodies piled into the elevator.

Fresh air filled her lungs as she finally reached the ground level, going westward toward the neighborhood coffee shop where she’s a regular, and the barista started mixing her drink before she could even fish out her wallet. Condensation on the side of the plastic cup collected at her fingertips, leaving a wet smudge on the door as she exited, her sneakered shoes guiding her in the direction of a statue, faithfully waiting for his master that will never come.

Shiki takes a seat behind Hachiko, and looks down at her watch. 19:01. She chuckles, she’s a minute late. She pops an earbud in her ear, and rests her right hand, palm up, on the side of the seat next to her, and waits. She takes another sip of her drink, licking her lips, savoring the overly sweet beverage on the verge of crystallization.

A couple walks by talking about dinner plans, and a group of female students discussing Prince’s recent social media posts pass by as well. A shiba stops in front of her, tilting its head to the side for a brief moment, almost as if he sees something that others can’t, before his owner tugs him along.

Her breath catches and she waits for a split second before she feels a slight shift in the wind around her, an even lighter pressure on her palm. She exhaled, relishing the feel of the spaces between her fingers filling, and she smiled.

“So, I had another productive meeting today....”

She speaks for about an hour into the wind about how her day went, what her last conversation with Eri was like, even about her new not inanimate pet, Mrs. Mew. From afar, most people think she’s talking to herself, those closer assume she’s on the phone. Little do they know that they are both wrong, but that hasn’t stopped her from coming to Hachiko everyday, and speaking into the void as if she’s carrying on a conversation with a long lost friend.

She’s not exactly sure when she started doing this, but it became her way of, well, grieving. After a couple months of blissful dating, getting to know one another outside the confines of a death game, she had sort of … fallen in love.

Only for that love to be suddenly ripped from her with nothing left but a note, from a not so helpful composer. The first couple of days were devastating, she didn’t leave her bed, she wouldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The weeks thereafter weren’t much better. Eri, and Rhyme were constantly by her side, making sure she didn’t end up in the hospital for malnuritionment. Beat showed up soon after to smack some sense into her, mostly figuratively.

Beat slammed open her bedroom door, Eri and Rhyme trailing behind yelling at him to calm down. His usual sympathetic expression was replaced with one of impatience and frustration.

“Shiki, enough of this. Get up and go eat somethin’!”

An empty gaze was his only response. He growled, stomping into her room and ripped open the curtains, beams of sunlight showering her floor, her bed, her listless face. In the light he could see that she lost a significant amount of weight in such a short period of time. She was already lean before, now her face began to look sunken in from the starvation and constant darkness. Beat suddenly felt another overwhelming wave of emotion sweep over him.

“This is ridiculous, girl, ya can’t keep goin’ like this or you’ll…” He choked up; he didn’t complete his thought; he just couldn’t. Rhyme and Eri lunged forward to try and hold back the blonde as he grabbed Shiki by the front of her shirt, pulling their faces closer, glaring at her with an intensity he didn’t think he would ever use on her.

Her world shook as droplets fell onto Shiki’s glasses. She could feel Beat shaking from his grasp, his usually clear cerulean eyes were stormy, almost like the sky had broken. A lump formed in her throat. She forgot through her heartbreak that other people might also feel the same pain she was feeling. Sure, she was his first partner, but Beat was also his partner too.

For a tense moment nobody moved, Beat stared into Shiki’s eyes hoping to get his message across wordlessly, Eri and Rhyme holding onto Beat on both sides to restrain him. She had every right to grieve and her pain was more than he could ever imagine, but Beat needed her to know that she wasn’t alone, and that he was there for her, if she would let him. He couldn’t afford to lose her before he got the chance to save him.

Ever so slowly, Shiki moved her one hand over Beat’s. She grabbed a fistful of his jersey in her other hand. For that excruciating week, she went from feeling anxious and depressed to just numb. Now she felt relieved that there was someone else who understood this persistent gnawing ache in her chest. Brotherly simpleton Beat wasn’t being sympathetic to her heartache, but rather empathetic in her mourning.

Her face started to prickle, as the wells that had dried up started to free fall again. She moved to grab Beat, nestling her head into his chest and just … cried. He rested his large hand on her head and hugged her tightly, supporting each other in this moment of catharsis. They stayed like that until Shiki passed out again.

When she came too, Beat, Eri and Rhyme stayed with her that day to make sure she consumed something.

Sometime in the afternoon, Eri decided to attack Beat to get some measurements for a pants design. Big muscular Beat hiding behind tiny Rhyme who was doing little to nothing to protect her older brother from the teen designer wielding a measuring tape going too close for comfort to his ... particular body parts. Shiki graced them all with a smile none of them saw in days.

Big brother Beat decided to have all his meals with her that day forward. Eri said that she could handle this, and found him to be a nuisance, but he didn’t care. Slowly Shiki’s appetite and strength returned, more places ventured outward, even the whirling of her bobbins clicking could be heard throughout the house.

Everytime she had a relapse, a brief moment of chest-tightening, her breath catching, she’d reach out and Beat would be there, embracing her until the panic attack subsided.

With her good days and her bad days, Shiki decided to go back to school after taking a month of absence. Eri got her back into the sewing club, pelting her with designs to keep her busy. The distraction was helpful, almost becoming necessary.

Sometimes she’d go to the skate park, sitting on the bench watching Beat and Rhyme do ollies in front of a setting sun. She would sketch out pieces inspired by the skaters, a little black cat signature adorning each one. Rhyme uploaded some of her designs and completed outfits on a popular social media platform, and named it Gatto Nero with her permission. Sooner than later, Shiki had a following of over one thousand, then five, then over ten approaching twenty. It also helped that her best friend was an influencer and modeled everything Shiki made.

Before anyone knew it, Shiki was approached by the founder of Jupiter of the Monkey, who was impressed by her work, and offered her an intern position while she was still in school. With more tasks to keep her busy, everyday slipped by faster and faster, and the relapses became more infrequent.

A year had passed since his disappearance, and Shiki never really forgot, more so distracted herself with other things to keep her busy on a day like today. After classes, Shiki would go to her internship to work on a couple of assignments and with her last meeting with her supervisor over, she headed out to catch the train home.

She slowed her pace down when she passed the 104 building, mindlessly loitering near the window displays to check out the trends. The Scramble Crossing was busy as usual, and she found herself wandering closer and closer to the statue of Hachiko.

Shiki stared at the bronze canine, her mind drifting to the promise she made quite a long time ago. Realizing she wasn’t in a rush to go home anyway, she took a seat behind the statue.

“Well Neku,” she hesitated, having not uttered his name in almost a year, “it looks like I didn’t keep my promise to be here everyday waiting for you to come back.”

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.” She could feel her anxiety bubble in her throat, like digging at a wound that had scabbed over and was threatening to bleed out again. Thinking of him was painful, but she realized then that they did have a lot of memories, wonderful, happy memories that she had forgotten in her grief. Memories that were hers to hold onto for as long as she wanted them. Shiki could feel her heartbeat slowing down, the tension in her body subsiding ever so slightly.

“I hope that you’re alright somewhere out there,” she said into the open space in front of her, “I-I miss you.”

Just then a slight touch graced her hands on her lap, but when she looked up, no one was there. The ticking of the crosswalk signs, the pattering of shoes on asphalt, and the shouts of last minute sales continued on as if time and sound hadn’t stopped for a moment. Not exactly sure what she was doing, Shiki raised her hand out in front of her, and a second later, she felt a resistance, an air of familiarity filling the spaces between her fingers effortlessly.

Shiki jumped up in surprise, her bag holding Mr. Mew clattering to the floor before whispering, “...Neku?”

An invisible thumb tapped the back of her hand lightly. She couldn’t hear him, she couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. He was probably in the UG, but for some reason, she could tell he was standing right in front of her.

She sobbed, “Is that really you ---?”

“Shiki! Why ya cryin’? What happened, yo?”

The connection was lost as Beat skated up to her, visibly concerned, looking for some clue as to why his best friend was crying in public. He pulled out a crumpled cloth handkerchief from his back pocket, a gift from Rhyme that came in handy more times than he thought it would.

Shiki continued to stare at the open space, trying to make sense of what had just happened, grasping for what she thought was remnants of a lost love, but the sensation was gone. Whatever was there, it wasn’t there anymore. Even if he was in the game, she shouldn’t have been able to touch anything in the UG. Her mind raced with different jumbled thoughts. What was that? How did that happen? Why now?

“Earth to Shiki!” Beat waved his hand in front of her, successfully snapping her out of her trance.

She looked at him, accepted the handkerchief and dried her tears. Whatever that was, talking about it would only land her another session at the doctor's office. She knew Beat would believe her, but after her long painful year of recovery that he had witnessed, she doubted he would be open to the thought of dredging that wound up again.

Shiki didn’t trust her words, so instead she reached over and hugged him. Without hesitation, Beat returned the gesture. When her sobs had subsided, he gently asked, “let’s bounce?”

In an overprotective brotherly way, he kept his arm around her shoulders after retrieving her bag from the floor.

“Yeah.”

The next morning, Shiki found the day dragging on. She was on autopilot at school, and her assignments at her internship were more clerical in nature, requiring very little brain power. Anything not immediately due would be tomorrow’s problem.

She rushed out of the office building, crossed the scramble and stopped in front of the metal statue. Shiki held her breath as she sat down exactly where she was yesterday. Her muscles tensed as she inhaled deeply.

“So I might be losing my mind, and everyone will think I’m crazy but if you are here, if-if you’re really still here, I’d want you to know that … I miss you Neku.”

For an agonising moment, nothing happened. She wasn’t really sure what she was hoping for. Was everything yesterday just her imagination? Was she just feeling sentimental and willed the tactile sensation into reality?

After a couple more minutes of fruitless imagination, Shiki was about to give up and leave when she felt something, no, someone, grab her hand. Frightened at the sudden contact, Shiki looked down to see that nothing was there, just the fortune lines on her open palm and her silver pinky ring. Yet someone was there, holding her hand in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. She smiled as her eyes began to water.

“It’s you isn’t it.” She said more confidently, though she felt nothing of the sort. A light tap on the back of her hand was her only affirmation.

“I have so many questions for you, but I’ll save them for when you get back. The only one I need to ask is w-will you be back?” She tentatively prodded the air metaphorically, hoping she hadn’t pressed her luck. Another light tap had her smiling once more.

“Beat’s going to kill you if you ever make it out of the UG. Rhyme’s not going to stop him. Eri hates your guts for leaving me.” She chuckled at that. She felt her hand move slightly, almost as if he sat down next to her. He brushed his unseen thumb over her knuckles.

A couple of people passing by looked at Shiki as if she wasn’t having a completely one sided conversation with herself in broad daylight. She honestly couldn’t care less. She rambled on about random things, hoping to catch him up on the entire year he had missed, only the good things because she wasn’t quite ready to talk about the bad ones. She would have continued well into the night if her phone hadn’t rang.

“Girl, why you don pick up ya phone? I’ve been tryin’ to reach ya for hours!” Beat shouted so loudly into her phone she had to remove it from her ear.

“Shiki, where are you?” the smaller girl gently inquired, seemingly having pulled her brother’s phone away from him before he crushed it, “he was about to call the police if you didn’t pick up.”

She could still feel their hands interlocked, but reluctantly replied, “I’m at Hachiko, Rhyme. Tell Beat I’ll text when I leave and get home.”

“Beat wait -- , nevermind he just left. We’ll come pick you up. Just stay there. See you soon!” The phone line clicked.

Shiki sighed, “Beat and Rhyme are coming to get me. It won’t be long before they show up.” She paused, wondering if she could ask what has been on her mind, if the fates were on her side today.

“I’ll promise to be here, everyday, waiting for you to get back to the RG. Until then, can you promise to meet me here, everyday, until I can see you again?” She knew this went against the rules of the game, but the game had dictated her happiness for long enough. If there was any chance of being with him, invisible or otherwise, she would take it.

Her hand moved again, this time their fingers separated, but not completely. His pinky finger wrapped around her silver ring, the same one she wore during the first game, and a new promise was made as they gently shook on it.

And then he was gone. Her hand tingled from the absence of his light touch. She thought she could see faint sparkles from where she presumed he had been sitting. When the Bito siblings found her shortly after, her dazed expression had them both worried, but then a genuine smile broke out on her face as she proposed they go have a light dinner before heading home. Rhyme and Beat looked at each other, communicating through their eyes that they had no idea what had happened, but were glad Shiki’s original spark had finally showed up all the same.

That had been two years ago, and everyday of those two years Shiki spent pretending to talk to someone on the phone instead of an apparition. Everyday for two years of updating his shadow on her daily life routine and not being able to ask him how his day went. This arrangement wasn’t perfect, but just knowing that he was alive, even if they were on separate planes, meant that there was hope she would see him again. Even as the weeks went to months, and months went to years, everyday, he would faithfully show up, and they would hold hands just to exist together behind the symbol of loyalty and patience.

“Tomorrow’s my big collaboration presentation to the executives of Jupiter. Eri and Rhyme are going to be there. We could honestly all use the distraction after what happened with Beat. Please look out for him in the UG? Times like this I really wonder what’s going on with the game now and how many people I have to lose to it before it’s satisfied…”

About two weeks ago, Beat magically disappeared. Shiki was going to his classroom to invite him to lunch with her and Eri when she saw a student in his class hand Beat a pin of some sort. They were trending for a while now, but they reminded Shiki too much of the game to want one for herself. Trauma, bad luck, she wasn’t really sure, but she wanted no part in it.

When the student handed it to Beat though, he vanished into thin air. She dropped her bento and unceremoniously ran into the classroom. Shiki demanded what just happened, when Beat’s classmate just looked at her, his eyes dilated for a second, returned back to normal, and looked surprised. She again pressed on for an answer, to which the student had no idea who or what she was talking about.

It was almost as if Beat’s entire existence was … erased. When she realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she ran to the first year classrooms and shouted for Rhyme. Shiki couldn’t imagine why this was happening again. She finally was able to talk to Neku again and now her pseudo brother, Beat, was missing.

Despite the inner turmoil she was feeling, Shiki had enough sense that day to ask Neku if he’d seen or heard from Beat. It was difficult to communicate when the only responses she got were taps on her hand but she managed to find out that Beat was indeed in the UG, even if Neku hadn’t seen him personally yet. Rhyme had a look in her eyes, almost as if she was looking beyond the plane of the RG and was preparing her next move. Rhyme said not to worry, she was going to track down her brother down one way or another.

For the past two weeks, Shiki had a few depressive relapses. Even though she had her coping mechanisms, her rock was gone. Rhyme was working on her military grade computer system to find Beat in the UG, and Eri helped keep her distracted with work. But it wasn’t the same. It helped that Neku was there for her everyday though, like today.

“Well that's all I have for now. Please keep on eye out for the skaterbrain, and wish me luck on my presentation,” she felt a tap on the back of her hand, “till tomorrow.”

As predicted, Shiki was a ball of nerves during her presentation, but she warmed up at least a quarter way through. It helped that she knew most of the execs from her internship days at Jupiter, and were impressed with her work. The collaboration looked promising for the coming days. Eri and Rhyme, both of her founding Gatto Nero board members, ushered her to leave for her date while they settled some details, promising to meet up with her afterward. She felt like she was on top of the world after that meeting, and was bouncing happily to the coffee shop to grab her customary celebratory drink before heading to Hachiko.

What she saw standing behind the statue made her drop her drink and had her flying across the scramble. She barreled into the boy, causing his headphones to fall into his hood. He took a step back to steady them both before bringing his arms around her.

“Hey Shik’s, did ya miss me tha much?” the blond boy flashed a mischievous grin.

“You idiot! I’m so mad at you! I’m going to sew your feet to the ground if you ever do that again!” Shiki screamed at him, throwing fists into his lean chest to demonstrate how mad she really wasn’t.

“Gah girl, when did ya get so strong?” Beat shrieked, trying to hug her again to stop her from hitting him.

“I missed ya too, now stop hittin’ me yo!” She pouted as she squeezed him tight. She had gotten so used to his hugs, she really missed them.

“I got a surprise fo ya.” He pulled away from her so she could see who was behind him.

She stopped breathing. It was like her lungs and heart decided to shut down at the same time, leaving her body to scramble on how to save the rest of her. Her hands tingled from the lack of oxygen as she stared at his face, the one that had matured, but never really changed after three years. He sported his boyish smile, not hidden behind a collar, the ones she admittedly had forgotten about but made her stomach flutter all the same.

“Hey Stalker.”

She could tell that he was nervous, the same nervous energy he had when they started dating years ago. Shiki had dreamed about what their reunion would be like, what she would do when it happened, what she imagined he would say. It wasn’t that, and she wanted to punch him for it if she could just MOVE.

But she felt paralyzed, and he was getting even more nervous from the silent treatment. There were a couple of people she didn’t recognize around them, but all she saw was Neku.

Growing impatient, Beat slapped Neku on the back so hard he fell forward, catching his balance before he could fall into Shiki. When he was close enough she reached out and grabbed his hand, with all the familiarity she had gotten used to for two years. Then he tenderly touched her face, wiping away her tears.

“I’m home.” He said gently.

She managed to mutter, “welcome home,” before he sealed his promise with a kiss she had been waiting too long to return.

OMAKE

“Phones get a room bro! We got kids ‘ere!”

“Yeah Neku-san get some!”

“We aren’t that much younger than you”

“I believe that I am older than all of you. And with that I bid you all farewell as I am in jeopardy of major spoilers. I must get the new EleStra DLC immediately!”

“Boss, wait, we got to celebrate our victory, come back!”

Notes: Full disclaimer, I haven’t finished TWEWY NEO yet, I’m starting the third week now. I’ve spoiled myself, so I sort of know what happens, but a lot of what I do know is out of context. So take this story as you will, it might not make a whole lot of sense, and might be completely off, but I’m excited that when I do finish the game, how my headcannons will have matched up! Or don’t!

That also being said, I starved myself from reading other fanfics on the Neshiki reunion because I didn’t want it to unintentionally change my headcannon and I also wanted to write without feeling like I was copying someone else’s ideas. If my story is similar to someone else’s, it’s purely because great minds think alike. An example of convergent evolution if you will. (I will be devouring those fics very soon though).

Notes regarding the story-wise: I like found family tropes, and I wanted to make it clear that Beat and Shiki’s relationship are purely brother/sister related if I haven’t already. If you have other shipping goggles on, have at it in this judgement free zone. This story was inspired by this idea I had of Shiki sitting behind Hachiko holding hands (I love hand holding. I wrote two other fanfics about that) with Neku, who is transparent being in the UG, just smiling at her while she talks about her day even though she can’t see him. The miracles of love and friendship traverse all planes right?

Anyway, if you’ve read this far, thanks for listening to my Ted Talk and I hope you enjoyed this Neshiki food I’ve haphazardly prepared in like 7 hours.

[yandere-mha-blog]

Chapter 11:Outside

words :1171

You looked down at your dog crossing your arms and shaking your head in disappointment

“Panchan you can't just run into people's houses when you feel like it.” You said, “That is being a bad boy.”

“Arf”

“Well I can see on your face you don't believe you did anything wrong.” you said squishing his face a bit “you are lucky you're cute.”

With that, you decided to check your emails, and message Hana, you waited and waited and nothing till you got a ding

To whom it may concern

I don't know what ridiculous notion my daughter has put into your head, but you are to stop seeing Tomura Shigaraki at once, this is a family matter and we don't need strangers interfering with family matters.

You felt your eyes roll deeply into the back of your head and cracked your knuckles oh how you were gonna tear into this man

Hello, Mr,Shimura i presume

Sorry but as stated on company policy we don't  do refunds unless our clients have become physically violent or need more extreme measure of help, so I will continue to conduct the six-month program With a Tomura Shigaraki, It is documented that you had a son by the (name) of Tenko Shimura so I'm not seeing how Tomura Shigaraki is a matter of family business when no one in your family is stated to have that name, you must have confused this man I am helping with your son

-good day

Now onto the rest of your day, meal prep, cleaning, and showering, You slipped into a pair of comfy Pjs’ and scrolling through your phone, only to get a call from your supervisor, just great.

“Hello Mr, Ito.” you said, “what is the pleasure?”

“(name) you recently took on a new case, correct, for a Tomura Shigaraki?” He said

“Yes, I've been seeing him for a little over a week now,” you said

“It's well I got a very angry phone call from a man called Kotaro Shimura.” he said, so that was the (name) of Tomuras dad “I told him we have no one under the (name) Tenko Shimura like he was yelling at me for, and well it says his (name) was legally changed to Tomura Shigaraki and all ties to that family were cut off.”

“Yes I sorta put two and two together, please tell me you aren't going to tell me to stop seeing him?” you asked feeling a bit nervous if this was the case

“Oh of course not, I just thought I should let you know that this is well a mess of a citation, and this Kotaro man may try to harass you and the company if you decide to continue, just something to keep in mind.”

“Don't worry Mr.Ito i'll be able to handle my own, thanks for checking up, have a good rest of your day,” you said

“You too.” He said and hung up, now you were even more motivated to help Tomura than you were before.

Tomura was still held up in his room looking thought a couple of formes, and man where these people dumb, no wonder they were alone, he just wanted a nice form to talk about being single and how this woman is confusing him, but all they are doing is calling them a bunch of bitches, so Tomura did what he did next, and sent in a trojan virus to mess up the server. Seeing a bunch of messages pop up saying their original account got deleted when he opened an email and it apparently got sent to his friends who were on the form made him laugh at the panic of their post and accounts getting deleted.

But it still didn't fix the issue he had at hand. There seemed to be no one that could give him an outsider's opinion on this, the only person was You, and you were the reason he was trying to look for answers in the first place. He needed to get his mind off you, that video game he wanted should be coming out soon he saw the preorder page. Unfortunately, the universe must have wanted to smack him in the face twice today because it was every introvert's worst nightmare.

In-store pick-up only.

“You gotta be shitting me,” he said

You arrived the next day and Panchan must have known where you were because he was already scratching on Tomuras door wagging his tail and whining.

“Down Panchan, you don't usually get this excited.” you said as you knocked on the door “Tomura I'm back.”

“Ugh.” you heard through the door and then a thud, then the click of the locks and then the door opening to see Tomura with a few hair stragglers popping out the front of his hood

“Did you just wake up, long night?” you asked as Panchan let out a woof.

“Hard time falling asleep.” Tomura said, rubbing his eyes, “Lots on my mind.”

“I see, do you want to talk about it?” you asked

“No.” Tomura said as he leaned down to pet Panchan who licked his hand “I'm not in a good mood.”

“Why is that?” you asked

“The video game I wanted is in-store pick up only, so I know I'm gonna have to pay ten times the price cause a bunch of scalpers are going to get their grubby hands on them and sell them.” He said

“Why don't you go and get one in person,” you suggested

“I don't think so, I'm not exactly the most excited going out during the day in large crowds,” Tomura said

“What if I go with you?” You said, “If you really want this game and being alone in a crowd makes you anxious, I can come as a moral support.”

“It comes out today, don't think you want to go last minute,” Tomura said

“Nonsense Tomura lets go right now, don't think about it, just think about you getting your hands on your game, also Panchan can come with moral support as well, right Panchan?” you said

Panchan just barked in response, Still, maybe this would work, but Tomura was still unsure.

“And if you change your mind we can just turn around and come back home.” You said

“Can’t I just give you the money and you go get it for me?” Tomura said

“Sorry, Tomura but that's a no, I don't exactly like the idea of you spending most of your day playing video games, but if you are willing to leave your house for thirty minutes to go get it, then I can compromise,” you said, Tomura thinking you were not as much of a pushover as he first thought clicked his tongue.

“Fine…” he grumbled

“Great and remember if you want to head back, we can at any time,” you said, as Tomura looked down seeing the street when was the last time he went outside while the sun was still out?

[reynie-muldoons]

'Depends on the Wagon' liveblog!

I saw someone do timestamps in their liveblog and it was absolutely lovely, so I think I'll try that too

1:55 why does Curtain sound like an mlm ceo LMAO

2:07 WOW ASSHOLE 😂😂 waving off your own teacher when he was complimenting you is not the vibe

2:17 so Dr. Curtian is only available through chain emails. Got it.

2:27 he seems like the kind of asshole to say that people on welfare are lazy and exploitave but then like, not pay his taxes

2:42 I DON'T LIKE HOW HE SAID THAT, THAT WAS CREEPY

2:47 oooooh Constance, always asking the right questions

3:05 Kate, why are you yelling, it's literally past curfew 😂

3:35 oh hai Jackson.. gtfo

4:22 oh yeah, the best way out is through the hallway that Jackson just entered. Good plane, babe.

4:25 soooo Kate Depending On Friends arc :)

4:59 AYYY HI RHONDA!!

5:13 why do I kinda fucking love then all deciphering the Morse code together

5:20 so the kids use the gemini riddle? Not the adults???

5:36 his face when he figures it out 😭😭😭

5:46 Nathaniel? Guess that's Dr. Curtain's name now. Less ridiculous than Ledroptha, but you dont get the badass Let Drop the Curtain reference

6:53 okay so no one knew he had a brother? But he did???

7:21 his faaaace 🥺

7:29 AWWW HE COULDNT BRING HIMSELF TO SHARE 😭😭😭 okay I'm kinda on board with the change if they can make it work in the long-haul

7:42 hi Milligan, good timing 😂

7:56 "not the time.........I'll take a dozen" Number Two my LOVE

8:23 interesting. I dont think Mr. Benedict was adopted in the books? He certainly didn't let Violet's family, the Hopefields, because he knew their financial troubles would be even worse. So who?

8:54 ohhhh dear, stages of grief at work. Maybe don't do that

9:05 I talked about this in the MBS discord server, but I think the show is really nailing Mr. Benedict's feelings. He's always been an emotional person, but he has to be so careful. Bottling up your feelings only leads to bigger feelings later. It makes so much sense for Mr. Benedict to be a whirlpool of strong, repressed emotions.

9:11 MILLIGAN'S FACE JAHAHS

9:34 RHONDA'S FACE HAGSKDGDJ

9:40 Mr. Benedict, sweetheart 🥺❤

10:01 "brothers stick together" why does it sound like he's talking about Reynie here 😭😭😭😭

10:12 that is a good ass point, Mr. Benedict already lied to them once

10:21 it makes sense for Sticky to be the one questioning the most because of his anxiety, but damn

10:46 AWWWWWW

10:56 KATE MAKING A BED FORT KATE MAKING A BED FORT KATE MAKING A BED FORT

11:00 I dont like how aggressive Kate is but it makes sense considering she's been in the circus for years, taking care of herself for far longer than she hasn't. She's not good at depending on people, and she's not good with difficult people.

11:10 Yeahh, Constance gets it!

11:40 Yeahhh, Constance gets it

12:55 that teacher seemed pretty nice last episode, nice to see that they're not what they seem just the same as Dr. Curtain lol

13:28 CONSTANCE I LOVE YOU 😂😂

14:00 "check again" okay so Krista from the tests and Martina give off the same vibe.. perfect 😂

14:16 "yeah......hang in there :D"

15:05 all of the apologies to the general class.. he's such an anxious sweetheart. He's really reading as autistic to me.

My sister just called me 😑 it's like 8 am, I answered her like "did you ever consider that you might be waking me up?" She did not consider that 😂

15:22 Martina's face just growing more and more annoyed and disgruntled HAHA

15:29 that was CORRECT?? WHAAAA

15:51 throwback to when I compared Dr. Curtain to an mlm ceo.. definitely like a cult

16:44 ohhhh Martina

17:30 CONSTANCE HEARING VOICES HELLOOOOO

18:22 ayyyyyy helper man

18:40 he seems too cheery to be a helper .-. The helpers all being super sad made [redacted]'s story make a whole lot more sense

19:35 aaaand now we get to it. You know, it really does seem a lot more cultish on screen than in the book

19:53 WAIT CONSTANCE GOOD JOB PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER 😂😂😂😂

19:53 that cut to Milligan making that exact face was INCREDIBLE

20:05 was he tryna leave? Yeah, good fuckin luck bucko

20:10 "critical papers at home" my ass, they packed everything up

20:24 the stages of grief back at it. 🥺

20:38 their relationship >>>>

21:00 "located in the..?" *description of envelope* "located in the....?" *more description* "located in the????" 😂😂😂😂

21:34 ohhhhh Thursday must be the student ranking day

21:56 Martina seems like the kind to throw out "pick a god and pray" as a crit quote 😂

22:07 I don't see any of the Society'a names on the list. Maybe they havent been there long enough

22:17 OH SHIT JK THERE THEY ARE

22:25 ohh Kate and Constance

22:55 the combination of the ferry horn and the bell makes it weirdly grim

23:55 them bringing Kate up and reminding her that she's needed 😌✨

24:29 hi Milligan bb ilyyyy

24:35 real good lookout guys, y'all are so well hidden

24:52 AYY HE'S DOING IT KATE STYLE

26:31 "visionary" is a word for it

26:31 I really kinda love that Number Two and Rhonda are going to such depths to try and help Mr. Benedict figure this out for sure

26:56 Mr. Benedict fully walking away while they talk about his brothers accomplishments 😂 I'm laughing, but poor guy

27:08 his FACE 🥺

27:28 HERE'S THAT TANTRUM FROM THE TRAILER

27:28 take your guesses how many times will he fall asleep

27:50 "he just has to work through some things" you dont fuckin say

27:55 you mean to tell me he had a full blown meltdown and they didn't show him falling asleep once??

28:35 like father like daughter 😌✨

29:10 ayyyy secret desk compartment

29:19 honestly I'm surprised there were actually papers he needed and it wasnt an excuse to go confront Dr. Curtain

29:32 oh shit, how'd they manage to get that far inside? No one was there to guard it, but the maze itself is a security measure

29:42 KATE STYLE STRIKES AGAIN

29:47 ooooh I like Dr. Curtain's office

30:01 WAS THAT SQ AND DID HE JUST CALL DR. CURTAIN HIS DAD

30:41 birds have careers. Got it 😂

30:50 JOURNAAAL

31:02 the fox?? Reynard the fox???

31:27 ohhh here we go, Dr. Curtain sees himself in Reynie only to resent it later

31:37 Mr. Benedict called Reynie a leader once too.. the parallels have ✨begun✨

32:12 is this the "keep your enemies close" conversation??

32:15 I'm honestly surprised he called him Sticky and not George

32:42 IT IS SQ IT IS SQ IT IS SQ

32:59 sooo that starts by not letting his caution down with you

33:11 Dr. Curtain congratulating himself mid-conversation on saying something deep is so in character

33:20 "I was betrayed by someone very close to me" so that was Mr. Benedict. Who the fuck else would it be

33:23 WHAT DID I SAAAAY

33:31 oh noooo Reynie starts doubting Mr. Benedict here? Is that the move?

33:43 that transition was so pretty stoppp

33:53 again how hasn't he fallen asleep

34:55 ayyyy journal snooping

35:05 Constance, my love, you are cut throat

35:11 Milligan is in the DRYWALL? ohh buddy be careful

35:21 omfg are they talking about water polo 😂 I love that that's the sport of choice

35:51 ayyyy they put the Milligan dots together too. Shame the guy's not with them rn

36:36 so Mr. Benedict brings up cheating first? I really like how we get to see the adults riddling out what to send back, we didn't get that at all in the books

37:46 I LOVE THAT THEY KEPT "don't get caught"

38:51 Kate riddling out the island schematics engineer style is so like her

39:07 they're just walking out the door?? Huh???

39:29 babe... turn off your flashlight

39:33 AND THAT'S WHY

39:58 is that the precursor to chuckroot?

40:38 the papers were from his orphanage 🥺🥺🥺

41:14 why does that break my heart

41:19 Dr. Curtain and SQ doing shit together it just.. so heartwarming

42:00 HAHA

42:16 okay, so show!Curtain is a kissass 😂

42:35 wait wait wait so Dr. Curtain is actively trying to contain his brother? That would explain why the Recruiters were looking for him and weirdly not the kids

43:25 "power wants to be free" sounds more like a personal mantra than a conversation between engineers

43:41 YES A LETTER TO MISS PERUMAL

44:02 more voices. Poor Connie girl 🥺

44:36 he loves her so much 😭😭😭

44:45 SHE TRIED TO SEND HIM A CARE PACKAGE

45:13 WORRIED MOM TIMEEE

[cruelfeline]

The Hordak Bleatings Masterpost

The new and improved Masterpost! All of my ridiculous bleating in one place! Now with categories to allow you, dear friends and neighbors, to better marvel at the utter nonsense I get up to in my spare time. It shall be updated every so often/when I remember. 

some of these categories may overlap or perhaps not be perfect; I tried; there was... a lot

Enjoy!

Biological/Medical Musings

A Fairly Comprehensive List of Hordak’s Clinical Signs

I Wrote Too Much About Hordak’s Arms

And Then Someone Asked About His Elbows So Voila

Someone Else Asked About His Eyes

Yes; I Did Measure Hordak’s Ears via Fuzzy Math; You’re Welcome

A Brief Word About Dentition

Some Sad Thoughts About Clone Lifespan

I Like to Headcanon that Clones Have Naturally Different Eye Colors

Counting Hordak’s Ports

Thinking About Terrible Ways Prime Could Institute Biological Control

Doing Very Fuzzy Math And Wondering Just How Young Hordak Could Be

Spending Way Too Much Time Figuring Out Whether Hordak is Left or Right Handed

Why Tiny Food is Probably Ideal for Hordak (a joke ask I essentially took Seriously)

Discussing Hordak’s Temper

Considering Whether Hordak Needs Oxygen

Discussing Whether Prime and his Clones are Genetically Identical

Hordak in Relation to Other Characters

Entrapdak

Hordak Can Get Close to Entrapta Because He Needn’t Fear Her

Discussing Entrapdak Age Discourse

Bit More Regarding Hordak’s Maturity vs. Entrapta’s

Hordak Didn’t Manipulate Entrapta… But Catra Did

Assessing that Unfortunate Moment When Hordak Snapped at Entrapta

Further Assessing Hordak Snapping at Entrapta by Noting When He Doesn’t

On Hordak’s Wardrobe Change

Entrapta Shushing Hordak is One of My Favorite Interactions

The Entrapdak Scene Was Also One of Self-Love

I Really Like How Entrapta Talks to Hordak About Failure

Hordak Tells an Actual Lie and Succeeds

Entrapta’s and Hordak’s Social Differences Help Them Connect to One Another

I Would Have Appreciated A Scene Where Entrapta Learns About What Happened To Hordak

Hordak Takes Strength From Realizing That Entrapta Came For Him

Hordak and Entrapta Just Like One Another, and I Enjoy That

There is a Huge Difference in How The Alliance and Hordak React to Entrapta Being on Beast Island, and it’s Jarring

This is Mostly About Catradora But Kind of in the Sense of Why Entrapdak is Better, so Here it Goes

Entrapta Didn’t Teach Hordak How to Love; She Taught Him How to Be Loved

The Soup Scene is a Condensed View of Why Entrapdak Works in Light of the Rest of Hordak’s Arc

Hordak and Entrapta Search for One Another Alone, and it Makes Me Sad

I Love How Hordak Scooches Over for Entrapta to Join Him on his Throne

Catra

The How-Catra-Manipulated-Hordak Masterpost

Watching Catra and Hordak Switch Roles in Season Three is Fascinating

Hordak and Catra’s Low Points Indicate Their Core Problems

Did Hordak Abuse Catra? Did She Abuse Him? The World May Never Know

Comparing Hordak and Catra in Terms of Consequences and Agency

Hordak and Catra’s Apparent Ages Likely Affect How People Judge Them

Why Doesn’t Hordak Subdue Catra?

Losing and Regaining the Will to Fight is Another Hordak/Catra Parallel

Sometimes I Wish The Show Would Focus Less on Catra and More on Hordak

Why Catra Besting Hordak Isn’t As Satisfying As Catra Besting Shadow Weaver

Hordak Exhibits Some Level of Trust in Catra Even in Season 2... and She Betrays It

The Difference in How Hordak and Catra Handle Relationships followed by Why They Are Like This 

Some Brief Words on the Differences Between How Hordak and Catra End Up Driven to Destruction in Season Four

Musing About What I Actually Would Accept as “Hordak Abusing Catra”

I Think It’s Kind of Funny that Some Expect Catra to be Suspicious of Hordak Post-Canon

Two Scenes That Look Distressing Side-by-Side

Discussing How Catra and Hordak Start Off as Parallels but Later Deviate Due to Character Differences

Adora

How Adora and Hordak End Season Four Differently

Hordak and Adora Parallels

I Wonder if Adora Recognizes Some of Herself in Hordak

Other

This is Actually About Shadow Weaver, but Compared to Hordak, So…

Hordak Doesn’t Seem to have a “Rule the World!” Moment (compared to Shadow Weaver)

On Hordak’s Weird Interactions with DT

Watching DT Circle Hordak is Interesting

Let’s Compare the Circling Scenes, Shall We?

What Wrong Hordak’s Arc Teaches Us About Clones and Hordak

Wondering if Hordak Actually has Control Over the Etherian Horde (could he have stopped the war?)

Prime

There Is A Huge Difference In The Standards Prime And Hordak Hold Others Two Versus Themselves

Hordak and Horde Prime Handle Their Own Vulnerabilities Quite Differently

The Difference Between How Prime and Hordak Use Anger

The Moment Prime Touched Hordak’s Face is the Moment I Truly Knew That Something About Hordak’s Backstory was Very Wrong

Clone/Origin/Prime-Related Sadness

The Clone Thing

More Distressed Bleating about The Clone Thing

Hordak’s DMV Photo Disturbs Me

Hordak Isn’t Actually an Idiot About Disease Transmission

On Hordak’s Bodily Autonomy, or Lack Thereof

How Much of Hordak is “Hordak?”

I’m 99% Certain That Hordak Sucks at Lying Because he Literally Couldn’t

You’d Think Hordak would Think Things Through, But…

Hordak isn’t Really Proud of “Hordak” (with a bonus Adora mention)

Hordak Provides Excellent Fridge Horror

Hordak’s Behavioral Pathology Isn’t Actually Pathology

So! That Purification Ritual was Really Something

Despite Erasure, Hordak Remains Himself

The Clones Are Essentially Trapped By Prime And It Upsets Me

I Get Annoyed That The Clones Aren’t Discussed More By Our Heroes

Again, I Wish The Show Acknowledged The Clones A Bit More, Wrongie Edition

Wouldn’t It Be Swell If Prime Really Did Manage The Clones Like Livestock? 

It’s More Emotionally Poignant That The Clones Are Individuals Rather Than Drones

Prime’s Doctrine Ensures Hordak Blames Himself, and it’s an Awful Control Measure

Hordak Probably Isn’t Dumb for Using Uninsulated Cables; Rather, Clone Sadness is in Play

Why I Can’t See Hordak and the Other Clones As Colonizers (unlike Prime) (also a whole convo thread)

Thinking About Clones and Self-Care

Each Clone Will Have to Realize That They Were Victimized

Wondering if Horde Clones Might Feel Anxious Sleeping Alone

Why Prime Might Encourage Some Autonomy in His Clones (spoilers: for cruelty)

Completely Arbitrary Classification of Clones Post-Prime!

Prime is an Actual God to the Clones and it is Terrifying

Canon Plausibility of Blanket Burritoing Horde Clones!

I Appreciate That, Despite Their Devotion, the Clones are Portrayed as Legitimately Suffering due to Prime

Catra and Adora have Happy Memories; do the Clones?; does Hordak?

Morality/Punishment/Redemption Related

Morality is (sadly) not a Universal Thing

Don’t Talk to me About the Reset as “Proper Punishment”

Why Hordak Doesn’t Just Become a Good Citizen

I Think About Hordak’s Choices a Lot

Hordak as an Abuse Mimic Rather Than Pure Evil

Looking at the Horde Child Soldier Thing From a Certain POV

Emotional Support is a Necessary Part of Healing

Hordak Was Forgiven Without Redemption, And I’m OK With That

Hordak’s Arc Speaks Directly to People who were “Raised Wrong”

I Wonder if Hordak Would See anti-Princess Propaganda as Propaganda

Semi-Intelligent Plot/Story Observations

Hordak’s Portrayal is a Function of Character Lens

Hordak Gets Very Legit Development in Season Four

She-Ra Isn’t a War Drama and Here’s Why

Hordak Suffers From a Distressing Lack of Agency

Hordak is a Weirdly Unenthusiastic Lord

The Season 4 Finale Reframes Hordak’s Vulnerability 

Untangling Hordak’s Backstory in Light of What We Now Know

Why Hordak Getting Possessed is Narratively Good

Hordak’s Rebellion and Subsequent Possession Essentially Summarize His Story

There Are Big Differences Between Hordak and Prime’s Etherian Wars

It Is Pretty Unlikely That Hordak Would Have Pulled The Portal Lever

It Occurred To Me That Hordak May Initially Ignore FO’s Tech Because It’s Just Really Old

An Assessment Of The Villain Intro Cards, Focusing On Hordak

I Think It’s Silly To Blame Hordak For Everything - Especially When Considering Prime

Literally Just a Thread Explaining Why Hordak is Sympathetic

Some Words On Exactly How Terrible DT’s Reveal Was For Hordak

The Escalation of Hordak’s Situation is Really Something

An Anon Asks a Normal Question and I go on a Tangent About Hordak Compensating for his Inability to Innovate via Entrapta and Catra

There are Monumental Differences Between the Galactic and Etherian Hordes in Terms of Brainwashing and Agency

Thinking About Why Chipped Etherians May Not be That Sympathetic To Clones After All

Random Bit of Logicking About Why Hordak Calls the Princesses a Rebellion

Figuring Out Why I Find Hordak So Much More Sympathetic Than The Princesses

Brief Musing on How Hordak Might Face Antagonism From Both Sides Post-Canon

Hordak’s Story Touches on the Concept of the Imperfection of Authority

Someone Asked Me if I Found Hordak’s S5 Arc Satisfying

Discussing Whether Or Not Hordak Planned on Leading Anything After Conquering Etheria

Taking Apart an Abysmal Twitter Take Because It’s Fun

Talking About Prime’s Clone Troops v. Robot Troops

Talking About Hordak’s Emotional Age

Hordak’s S3 Backtory Being Part-Delusion Helps Emphasize the Inequality in Attachment Between the Clones and Prime

A Few Not-So-Nice Acts Hordak Commits That I Find Justifiable

Random Headcanons of All Sorts

Stupidly Cute, Pointless Headcanon #3825 (ears covered)

Stupid Pointlessly Cute Headcanon #4853 (yawning, with appropriate artwork)

Stupid Pointlessly Cute Headcanon #2938 (snoring)

Stupid Pointlessly Cute Headcanon #1423 (REM sleep)

Stupidly Cute, Pointless Headcanon #7845 (blushing)

Random Hordak-Related Thought #2935 (forearms)

I Like to Think That Hordak Does Cute Things in his Sleep

I Like to Think That Hordak’s Eyes Dim While He Sleeps

Literally Me Just Having Emotions

Thinking About the Stress of Maintaining His Image in the Horde

Why Hordak’s Trauma is Particularly Disturbing To Me (compared to Catra/Adora)

Catra Overcomes her Fear of her Abuser; Hordak Does Not

All of my Emotions over the S4 Finale

Hordak’s Goddamned Smirk Lied to Me

I Have Feelings about Hordak’s Enforced Self-Care

I Need Hordak to Know that He is Loved

Hordak Goes Pew Pew and It’s Cute

Watching Hordak Lift Things Makes Me Smile

Hordak’s Unreasonable Expectations Make Me Sad

Please Just Let Hordak Rest

A Sassy Post About People Complaining the Hordak and Catra are Forgiven

All My Words About That Hordak/Adora Scene

Hordak Taps the Asphyxiation Lever With Two Fingers And It Makes Me Happy

I Wonder If Individuality Felt Blasphemous To Hordak

Please Don’t Stab Clones In Their Ports, Thank You

Hordak Clasps His Hands And It Makes Me Anxious

Hordak Shaming Catra Mimics the Purification Room And It’s Disturbing

Watching Hordak Give Up Is Heartbreaking

I Worry About Hordak Handling Anxiety

People Being Considerate of Hordak Makes My Heart Smile

I Wonder If Magic Was Frightening to Hordak at First

Thinking About Hordak Progressing in Terms of Self-Care

Prime Never Calls Hordak by Name, not Even Once

Just Being Sad While Realizing the Sort of Life Hordak had to Look Forward To

Strange Fic-Like Things No One Should Read

Please Consider: A Concept Masterpost

Hordak Practices Eyerolling

Imp Hacks Up The Worst Color of Hairball

[everlarkficexchange]

A Simple Choice

Written by: @justajjfan​​​​​​

Beta’d by: @sunsetsrmydreams​​​​​​

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous].

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous] 

Rating: Mature 

Warning: Mention of whipping. Use of coarse language.

A/N: This is it…the very last chapter! Thank you to @everlarkficexchange​ - @javistg​ and @xerxia31​ ; the 2 anons ; @sunsetsrmydreams​ and to all you lovely readers! 😘

~~~

Chapter 7 + Epilogue

Taking it as a reassuring sign we’ve reached our destination, my ears prick up to the sound of engines humming and people shouting at Gale to hurry. I’m further reassured when the terrain changes from dirt and tall grasses to black steel.

This must be our ride.

Gale runs onto the steel ramp just as it begins to close and sets me down onto a cold steel seat a little further into the belly of the craft.

“Peeta!”

I look around frantically to the sound of Katniss’ voice calling out my name and see her on the opposite side trying to free herself from the restraints of her own seat as two armed soldiers on either side try to convince her to stay seated. 

“Katniss!” I shout back, awkwardly pulling myself up on my good leg only to feel Gale’s heavy hand on my shoulder pushing me back down.

“Strap yourself in. We’re about to take off,” Gale informs me.

Ooompff. I don’t have time to protest as Katniss pushes Gale out of her way and launches herself at me. I grab her tightly in my arms breathing in her scent as she peppers kisses over every inch of my face.

“My stupid leg…it wouldn’t work—” I try to explain but she continues to kiss me and I can feel the wetness from her tears on my cheeks.

“I thought I lost you,” she chokes between each word.

“Shshsh, I’m here now,” I say in a hushed tone, holding her tightly in my arms, “if Gale hadn’t shown up when he did, I would have missed our ride,” I tell her. “He saved me Katniss,” I say, lifting her chin to look at me. “Gale brought me back to you.”

Katniss lets out a shaky laugh and I flick my eyes to the side to where Gale now sits buckled to his seat, his head lowered. She kisses my lips sweetly before slowly turning to Gale, “Thank you,” she says in an almost whisper but Gale hears it and lifts his head to look at her and nods, a brief smile appearing on his face.

“The star-crossed lovers reunion can wait until we get to District 13,” Haymitch announces and I hadn’t even noticed he was sitting across from me.

“Thirteen?”

“You heard me. Welcome to the revolution lovebirds. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of questions and I’ll explain everything but for now buckle up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.” We do as he says and Katniss takes the empty seat next to me holding onto my hand tightly.

As the hovercraft begins its assent, I take a moment to look around my surroundings and see most of the seats are filled with people from our district…survivors just like us.

At first estimate, I count in my head at least 200 hundred people. Amongst the small crowd, I’m surprised to see peacekeeper Darius who sits next to his look-a-like, both obviously happy to see the other and the resemblance is unquestionable. Brothers.

Haymitch begins his story by telling us about how he first joined the rebel underground after President Snow killed his family, his contact with District 13 after rebel spies discovered a plot to reap the surviving Victors for the quarter quell and how this planned attack was about freeing Panem from President Snow’s sadistic rule once and for all.

I scan my eyes further along the craft after Haymitch was done talking, hoping to find my own brothers. My breath hitches when I lock onto a small group of people unmistakably Merchant. Madge Undersee is the first person I recognise followed by a shell-shocked Delly Cartwright who has her arm wrapped protectively around her younger brother seated beside her.

But they’re not there.

“They could’ve made it out somehow,” Katniss says hopefully, noticing my gaze.

“Yeah…maybe,” I answer, kissing the top of her head softly. But deep down I know the probability is next to zero.

***

We gawk in amazement as our hovercraft lands safely in District 13. An impenetrable fortress made of concrete and steel strategically built deep underground.

Once the steel ramp of the hovercraft lowers and locks securely, a flurry of uniformed officials welcome us not as refugees but as new soldiers of District 13…a title I’m not sure I like.

We are quickly ushered towards a ‘clearance team’ waiting to check everyone, giving those who need medical attention priority. Hardly considering myself a medical priority, I’m nonetheless placed on a steel gurney and wheeled into a curtained partition of their hospital emergency room and assessed.

Katniss refuses to leave my side the whole time and holds onto my hand tightly insisting she can be checked just fine next to me, a fierce look in her eyes silently warning no one try and challenge her.

To my relief…no one does.

Temporary repairs are made on my prosthetic leg by a robotics technician and even though my gait is somewhat compromised, I’m grateful I can at least walk unaided. I’m to report to someone called Beetee tomorrow morning for further evaluation on my leg with the view of a more advanced replacement and think to myself maybe life here in Thirteen won’t be so bad.

Medically cleared, we are moved on to another team who measure us from head to toe before handing out a parcel each containing a set of clean clothes, shoes according to our size and a package labelled ‘personal hygiene’.

With parcels in hand, compartment allocation is next and my heart starts to sink knowing I’ll have to spend my nights in this place without Katniss.

“There she is!”

We both turn around to see Mrs Everdeen rushing towards us with Katniss’ sister in tow wearing the brightest of smiles. Katniss immediately locks Primrose in a loving embrace, ignoring her mother altogether.

“Gale told us you were here,” her mother says, brushing off her daughter’s cold welcome. “I was so worried Katniss. You shouldn’t have runaway like that,” she adds.

Katniss steps away and reaches her hand out for me to hold, “you gave me sleep syrup to stop me from going back for Peeta.”

“You almost scratched poor Gale’s eye out. It was the only way to calm you,” Mrs Everdeen says in her defence. Katniss doesn’t respond but I can see how much she resented being drugged. A feeling I know only too well.

“I’m glad to see you are safe Peeta,” Mrs Everdeen turns to me and says genuinely, breaking a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Katniss huffs but I smile and thank Mrs Everdeen just as an officer orders us to line up and register our details for allotted compartments.

“There’s no need for my daughter to register, she’s been assigned to the Everdeen family compartment; Katniss Everdeen; Level 32; Room 234a,” Mrs Everdeen informs the District 13 officer.

“No, I’m going to register with Peeta.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mrs Everdeen responds. “Peeta will need to reg—”

Katniss doesn’t wait for her mother to finish her sentence and leads me to the registry desk in the middle of the processing room.

“Name…age…occupation…marital status?” the registry officer asks robotically, not bothering to look up and stares at the small screen on his device waiting to key in my answer.

“Peeta Mellark…17…baker…s—”

“Married.” Katniss answers the last question for me and squeezes my hand. I turn my head, mouth gaped open in surprise but I don’t say anything and play along with the ruse.

The officer raises his head from his device and looks at Katniss, “and you would be..?”

“Katniss Mellark…17…hunter…wife of Peeta Mellark. We’re married…to each other,” she gestures, pointing her finger between the two of us. The officer darts his eyes suspiciously from me to Katniss.

Holding in an anxious breath, I feel Katniss’ grip on my hand tighten but the officer eventually lowers his gaze and types in the information, allowing us to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

I hear a shocked gasp behind us which could only have come from Mrs Everdeen but I don’t dare turn my head to look. Primrose on the other hand, rushes over to hug me first then Katniss and whispers something in her ear causing Katniss to blush.

“That’s not true! She’s too young to be married,” Mrs Everdeen informs the officer who raises his head and huffs in frustration.

“I usually keep my noise out of people’s business but I’ll make an exception in this case,” Haymitch says, appearing out of nowhere accompanied by an older soldier and by the looks of his uniform, he’s someone of high-ranking importance.

“Sweetheart and the boy technically became of age the moment they became Victors.”

Shock covers Mrs Everdeen’s face, “but she’s only been gone for 2 days and Twelve’s traditions state—”

“There is no District 12!” Haymitch exclaims. “What matters is the here and now and if they say they toasted then it’s good enough for me, he announces. “Young love, Lily…have you’ve forgotten what that’s like?”

Mrs Everdeen swallows hard and looks across to Katniss and me as her eyes begin to glisten, “no…I haven’t forgotten.” she replies softly.

“We don’t know what the future holds for any us and these two have been through a lot. They deserve a little happiness…don’t you think?” Haymitch questions. Mrs Everdeen ponders his words before eventually nodding in agreement. “Now what do you say we leave the newlyweds to themselves while we enjoy a hot cup of tea in the dining room,” he suggests.

Mrs Everdeen agrees and before she leaves, insists Katniss accompany her to the medical clinic in the morning and another blush appears on Katniss’ face but she relents.

“Congratulations Mr and Mrs Mellark. Enjoy your honeymoon,” Haymitch says, giving us a sly wink before he and his friend, who introduces himself as General Maximus Jackson, escort Mrs Everdeen and Prim to the dining room.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles us both, “so…you two married or what?” the frustrated officer asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Married!” Katniss replies without pause.

The officer then looks to me for confirmation, “married,” I tell him swallowing hard and hoping the blush on my own face doesn’t give anything away.

***

Stepping into our compartment, we take a look around and see it adequately furnished with a large bunk bed, a chest of draws; a small closet and an equally small bathroom but it’s nothing to complain about.

We haven’t said a word to each other since we were given our compartment passcode. But the burning question I want to ask Katniss must wait, both of us agreeing to shower before settling in.

Although brief, the warm spray of water felt good on my skin and I quickly changed into the clothes marked ‘bed clothing’ from my parcel. When I slide the bathroom door open, Katniss is sitting on the bunk bed dressed in her District Thirteen issued pyjamas, her hair slightly damp from her shower.

Katniss raises her head to see me looking at her and I’m mesmerised by the beautiful sight before me. “Will you braid my hair Peeta?” she asks softly, offering her hairbrush to me.

My breath hitches as she leans her head back and sighs in contentment when my hands whisper over her neck and sweep the dark mane to trail down her back. I begin to brush her hair, carefully working through the knots and snags caused by our harrowing race for safety. Katniss hums as I continue until the brush moves through smoothly.

I reverently run my fingers through the long locks before dividing them into sections then gently braiding them together. I’m struck by the intimacy of the moment, bringing my question bubbling to the surface.

“Why did you lie to your mother about us being married?”

Katniss straightens her back and turns around looking deep into my eyes, “I didn’t. You baked the bread and I asked you and you agreed…remember?”

With my forehead creased in deep thought it takes only a few seconds to understand what Katniss is saying and there’s no hiding the huge smile forming on my lips, “yes.”

“I know I’m not good with words but it was the same bread you gave me all those years ago and it was perfect,” Katniss says. “You’re not taking it back are you Peeta? You do want me as your wife…don’t you?”

My hands instinctively cup her cheeks, “Katniss Everdeen, a life with you has been my fantasy for as long as I can remember. I’ve dreamt of asking you to toast with me,” I start to explain. “I’ve wanted to say so many things to you, solemnly vow to honour and keep you safe for the rest of my life, then take you in my arms and show you how much I love you,” I say, feeling heat slowly creeping up my neck as the warmth rushes to my groin.

She steps away and I immediately begin to worry I’ve said too much. Katniss searches through the pocket of her father’s hunting jacket hanging over a chair and brings the napkin she grabbed earlier today and unfolds it onto the bunk.

There in front of my eyes is the untouched triangle-shaped piece of toast and I have to wonder how it wasn’t confiscated when we were being checked over. 

Katniss smiles, the same blush appearing on her face, “it’s Katniss Mellark now but you can ask me to toast with you again if you want and the answer will be the same,” she tells me. “You can say all those words you’ve dreamt telling me…then when you’re done husband, you can show me how much you love me.”

…and so I do.

~~~

Epilogue

Katniss

My eyes are closed but there’s a sense of comfort and mellowness blossoming inside of me as I take in a deep breath to enjoy the familiar scent I’ve come to love.

In my relaxed state, it takes some effort to force my eyelids to open and when I do, my eyes focus on the edge of the bank as a paddle of ducks swim lazily across my father’s lake.

Gone are the electrified fences. The curfews. The peacekeepers.  The fear.

This was the first place I took Peeta to see after the war had ended. So many lives were lost during our fight for freedom but for now, there is peace. So, we rebuilt our towns and our families and we vowed to honour the dead by living well.

As I take in the peaceful surroundings, the smell of freshly baked bread invades my senses and all thoughts of death and destruction is forgotten when I feel a pair of warm, muscled arms wrap around my rather large and protruding stomach.

Bringing a child into this world was something I told myself I would never experience and the idea of new life growing inside of me should seem utterly terrifying. Yet as my hand rests on top of his, waiting for our little one to let us know she’s awake, what I’m feeling right now has nothing to do with fear.

I lean back into his loving embrace and instinctively tilt my head to the side allowing him full access. The moment his lips start to trail kisses down my neck, an enticing shiver courses through my body and I hum my approval with great fervour.

“We don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he whispers softly.

“No, we don’t have to be afraid,” I whisper back, as we stop to watch his favourite colour slowly disappear below the horizon.

The End

[sunshinejihyun]

Wedding Bells - Saeyoung Choi

Summary: A dating app brings two unexpected people together

A note about this work: All of the RFA members have significant others (besides Saeyoung, MC is used for this fic as normal) that are referred to by name. Those are my OC’s and they’re the names I use when I play those characters routes. I just needed to give everyone a happy ending, okay?

Here is a quick breakdown: Yoosung and Wenyn Zen and Briar Jaehee and Cordelia Jumin and Luce

You can meet all my OC’s here!

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

“What do you mean I have to have a date to your wedding?” Saeyoung Choi stood staring out his kitchen window, his phone pressed against his ear and his best friend, Yoosung was spewing some ridiculous ideas into his ear.

“I mean just that. Bring a date, everyone thinks you have a girlfriend.” Yoosung’s voice sounded muffled on the other end and Saeyoung’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, Wenyn was trying to tell me something. But seriously, bring a date or else!”

“Where am I supposed to find a date in the next two weeks?” Saeyoung rubbed at the part of his nose that his glasses rested. “You know what - never mind. I’ll figure it out. Talk to you later!” Before Yoosung could get another word in, Saeyoung was pressing the end call button.

Two questions were ringing clearly in his head: first, why the hell would Yoosung tell everyone he was seeing someone and where the hell was he supposed to meet a girl to bring to a wedding on such short notice?

Sitting himself down at his computer, Saeyoung found himself looking at dating sites, only half considering making an account. After one bad tinder date, he had ended up deleting himself from the app (and hacking into her phone to erase his number, but that was a different story) and vowed to never go on another dating app. But desperate times called for desperate measures, so he’d have to make do with the resources he had which is how Saeyoung found himself signing up for Tinder for the second time.

-

“Any luck on the date hunt?” Yoosung had stopped by Saeyoung’s bunker in hopes of stowing away for a few hours; wedding planning was tough and the blond needed some time away from it all.

“No, I rejoined tinder but it seems the only people who match with me want me to pay for their OnlyFans - I don’t even know what that is! - or just don’t respond! I’m getting frustrated.” Saeyoung whined, glaring at his blond friend. “Tell me why you had to tell everyone I was seeing someone?”

“I don’t know! You’re the only one from the RFA not bringing a date, I didn’t want you to feel left out!” Yousung replied, looking over Saeyoung’s shoulder and swiping right on the tinder profile Saeyoung was currently looking at. “What if.. You make your own app?”

“My own app?” Saeyoung echoed and Yoosung nodded, letting Saeyoung bounce the idea around in my head. “I’d have to hack some websites like Facebook and Twitter to advertise it, but that would be a good idea.”

Yoosung grinned, happy to have supplied Saeyoung with a good idea and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Wenyn’s probably freaking out wondering where I am since I said I was going to the convenience store for milk. I’ll text you later and check on how your app is coming along!”

Saeyoung barely heard his younger friend, mind already reeling as he started figuring out how to design his new app.

-

“MC! Good morning, the usual?” Jaehee Kang was standing behind her bakery’s counter, cleaning the steam spout on the coffee machine as you approached the counter. Ever since Jaehee and her partner Cordelia had opened up this shop, you’ve been a frequent customer and have become friends with both the women who ran it.

“Good morning, Jaehee! And, yes please.” You replied, looking down at your phone and chewing your nail nervously.

“Something on your mind?” The girl’s long hair was tied back today and you laughed as she continually pushed a piece of hair that fell out of place before starting on your coffee order,

“Eh, it’s nothing bad. Just having a family party and everyone’s expecting me to bring a date. A date that I definitely don’t have.” You locked your phone before shoving it in your pocket so you were able to grab your drink from Jaehee.

“I have a friend who just finished designing an app,” Jaehee’s voice was soft as she spoke of this person, like they were someone who she held very dear to her heart. “It might help you with your problem. It’s called Wedding Bells, look it up on the app store.”

“Wedding Bells? I’m not looking to get married!” You laughed and headed for the door, letting the next customer order from Jaehee. She sent you a small smile and a wave before putting all her attention on the man standing in front of her.

As you were walking back to your house, curiosity got the best of you and you pulled out your phone before searching Wedding Bells on the app store. A simple ‘W’ was the app’s logo and the description was: ‘Looking for a fake date to a wedding or another family function? Look no further! With Wedding Bells, you’re connected with other people looking for dates!’

Without thinking about it too much, you downloaded the app and when you got home, you sat down and started filling out your profile. It asked for specifics, like the exact date and time you needed someone with you as well as your likes and dislikes and from there gave you a small list of 10 people they think you’d be a good fake date for and vise versa.

Scrolling through the first two profiles, you were virtually unimpressed. These people seemed bland - like they had no personality, which was probably the reason why they weren’t able to find dates. The third profile you clicked on had potential, he seemed funny in his answers and like he actually cared about how people perceived him. Plus he was good looking, which was always a bonus. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided to message him.

MC: Hey, Saeyoung! I see you need a date to a wedding, what a coincidence, I’m also in need of a fake date to a family function.

You put yourself out there, now no one could say you didn’t try. Just as you were about to exit out of the app, you noticed that Saeyoung was typing so you stayed, anxious to see his response.

Saeyoung: MC! Greetings! Yep yep yep I need a date… it’s to my best friends wedding and everyone thinks I have a girlfriend! You have any experience in the being-a-fake-girlfriend department?

MC: Can’t say I’ve ever been someone’s fake girlfriend, but I have been a real girlfriend once or twice so I think I can handle it!

Saeyoung: Amazing! I think I’d be a great fake boyfriend if I did say so myself! Would you be interested in being my fake girlfriend?

MC: Only if you’re interested in being my fake boyfriend!

The rest of the night was spent chatting with Saeyoung. You had even switched over to a video call at one point and the entire time was spent with you both choosing outfits for the other to wear to the events. You had even caught a peek at him shirtless a few times during that process, which was a very welcome surprise.

“I can’t believe it’s already 3am,” Saeyoung whispered. You were both currently laying in bed, each holding their phone with one hand, your head being popped up by the other. “You’re so easy to talk to.”

“You are also,” you admitted, moving your hair out of your eyes. “I think I should probably get some sleep now.”

“You should, you’ll need that beauty rest for the wedding.” Saeyoung teased, sticking out his tongue at you.

“Says you! You look like you haven't slept in days!” You watched as he closed his eyes, his breathing starting to slow. “Goodnight, Saeyoung.”

Sleepily opening one eye towards you, he sent you a crooked grin. “Goodnight, beautiful MC.”

-

The wedding day was approaching fast and Saeyoung was a nervous mess. Throughout the week of getting to know MC, he had quickly come to enjoy her silly little texts she would send during the day and the nightly phone calls that went into the early morning that they spent planning their fake relationship and just learning about each other.

Saeyoung was curious about MC. She was quick to laugh at his jokes and was even speedier at supplying her own remark back. She would be the perfect date to Yoosung and Wenyn’s wedding, she was so perfectly in sync with him that no one would be able to suspect that they haven’t been together for the last six months and he only hoped she thought the same about him.

“Hello? Saeyoung?” Her voice brought the redhead out of his thoughts and he zeroed back in on what she was saying. “As I was saying, give me a run down on your friends that I’ll meet at this wedding! I’m gonna need to be on my A game if I want them to like me.” Saeyoung smiled at the bright girl in front of him, so eager to please his friends and set in on telling her about his friends and their significant others

-

“Your chariot awaits, m’lady!” You opened the door to your apartment to find Saeyoung standing there, a corsage in his hand and a goofy smile on his face.

“Why thank you, my good sir.” You replied before accepting his outstretched hand. “I got you a pink boutonniere to match your tie and my nails, I hope that’s okay.”

“I’ve never gotten one of those before so the fact that you even got me one makes it more than okay.” Saeyoung answered honestly before leading you to a red sports car sitting out front. “Figured we’d arrive in style.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you had a nice car!” You exclaimed, getting in the passenger seat, careful not to wrinkle your dress. “What is it you do for work again?”

“This and that,” he answered nonchalantly before throwing you a grin and putting the car in drive. “Now, are we ready to go?”

“I was born ready, fake boyfriend.” Saeyoung laughed at that before turning on the radio. The beginning of the car ride was spent with you and him quizzing each other on your fake relationship but by the end, you both were belting along to the loud music blaring through the speakers.

“At last we’ve arrived!” Saeyoung exclaimed before getting out of the car. “You stay there, I’m going to come open the door for you and then put this corsage on your wrist.” Sitting still, a smile played on your lips as you watched the lanky man run around to your side of the car and open the door for you. “Wrist please,” silently holding out your left arm to him, he gently gripped your hand, thumb rubbing a soothing pattern for a second before letting go to slip the band on your wrist. “There, it looks good! Matches your dress and everything!” It did, although it wasn’t what you would have picked out for yourself. The corsage was adorned with deep green and white flowers and light pink and silver ribbon woven throughout. It went well with your black and green dress, and it was from Saeyoung which was the most important part.

“Okay, now let me put this boutonniere on your jacket.” You opened the case before pulling out the simple pink rose with white ribbon wrapped around it. “These get a little tricky to put on, so hold still.” You warned, hand poised with one of the needles ready to pin the flower to his jacket. As you were about to pin it, Saeyoung shifted his weight from one hip to the other and you pricked yourself, blood immediately blooming at the small wound. “Ouch!”

“Oh man, I’m so sorry MC!” Saeyoung replied, gently grabbing your hang before bringing the finger up to his mouth and gently sucking on the wound to clean it of blood. You watched him, open mouthed and he immediately dropped your hand, face flushing red. “I have no clue why I just did that.”

“MC?” You heard your name being called and you turned to find Jaehee and Cordelia making their way over to you and your date, Cordelia’s arm was wrapped around one of Jaehee’s, both of them with confused smiles on your faces. “I didn’t know you and Saeyoung knew each other?”

You glanced nervously at the boy standing next to you before clearing your throat. “Yes, Saeyoung and I have been dating for six months now.”

Jaehee sent a confused look your way. “What are you talking about? Just last week you were in the shop complaining about not having a date to a family function. I recommended trying my friends app and…” her speech slowed down before she stopped completely, realization dawning on her face. “Oh! I see, you downloaded Saeyoung’s app and you two are now pretending you’re in a relationship.” “Don’t worry!” Cordelia’s bright smile was a welcome change after the awkward encounter. “Your secret is safe with us! Have a nice time guys, we’ll see you inside.” Jaehee bowed her head to you both before reconnecting her hand with her partners, both of them whispering quietly to each other as they walked inside the venue the wedding was being held in.

“Jaehee said I downloaded your app?” You turned to pin the flower again and this time he let you step closer. You could feel Saeyoung’s breath disturbing some stray strands of your hair as you adjusted the flower so it was sitting straight on his jackets lapel.

“Surprise?” Saeyoung’s face was contorted into an awkward sheepish smile and you rolled your eyes with him. “I didn’t want you to think I, like, hacked your list to put me on there because I needed a date. The algorithm naturally matched us, I had nothing to do with it. I created the app and then answered the questions same as you and every one else who’s using it.”

“I think that’s really impressive, Saeyoung. And it’s another fact that I know about you - you create apps - that we can sell to make our relationship seem real.” You found yourself getting lost in his eyes. Normally when you video chatted with him, he was wearing glasses  but today he must have been wearing contacts. His honey colored eyes portrayed his every emotion, and it would have been easy to spend all day looking into them.

“Umm… we should probably head in.” Saeyoung suggested, holding out his hand for you to intwine your fingers with him. “Ready, darling?”

“Yes sweetie,” you giggled, letting him lead you into the venue. When you walked in, an impeccably dressed man with long silver hair waived you both over.

“Saeyoung!  We were starting to worry that you wouldn’t show up. And you must be MC! So nice to meet you, I’m Zen and this is my girlfriend, Briar.” Zen gestured to the girl sitting next to him and you smiled at them both.

“Nice to meet you both, I’ve heard lots about you guys.” You replied, Saeyoung nervously  squeezing your hand as he watched Zen’s face. Zen was the tough one to trick; he was an actor so it was super easy to tell when others were bluffing around him.

“All good things, I hope?” Zen looked at you curiously and you flushed before turning teasingly to Saeyoung.

“Mostly,” Saeyoung sent you a small smile and you smiled back before finishing your sentence. “You know Saeyoung, he has to throw some weird facts in about everyone. He was telling me about the time he sent a picture of him dressed as a maid and you-”

“Okay! I get it, he’s an annoying jerk who promised not to tell that to anyone.” Zen’s face dropped into a pout and you internally ‘aww-ed’ when Briar leaned over to kiss his bottom lip that was sticking out.

Soon after, the service started which made it hard to talk to anyone. As Yoosung was saying his vows, you looked over to find Saeyoung swiping away at a tear that had filled his eyes and you reached over and reattached your hands, squeezing gently. “You okay?” You whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, leaning his head on your shoulder. “I’ll tell you more later but I never expected to be friends with these people for this long, let alone see my best friend get married. Just kinda hit me all at once.” You didn’t respond, opting to rest your head on top of his and you both stayed like that, your breathing in sync with each other for the rest of the ceremony.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I think that was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” Zen remarked once Yoosung and Wenyn had walked out of the venue as man and wife. “It’s time to head over to the reception.”

You and Saeyoung took your time walking over to the reception hall, your hands still connected and a comfortable silence settling over the both of you. “What did you mean earlier?”

Saeyoung stopped and pulled you to a small bench, both of you sitting down, your thighs pressed together. “When I met this group of people, I was working for a secret agency as a hacker. I couldn’t make friends then and when I did, I’d have to change my identity eventually and never talk to them again. With the help from Jumin, I was able to successfully get out and start over after deleting my data and information from their systems.” Saeyoung turned his body slightly to face  you and you could see how hard this was for him. His lip was trembling  and he had a deep sadness etched in his eyes that was replacing the normally playful gleam. “That’s also a reason why I never met anyone romantically, I didn’t want them to get to close and then have to hurt them in the long run.”

“But you don’t have to hide anymore, you can be with someone now.” You pointed out and Saeyoung smiled sadly. “Have you thought that maybe…” you trailed off, shaking your head almost like you were physically trying to rid yourself of the thought. “Never mind.”

“You can ask me if you want to,” Saeyoung encouraged, his smile causing your heart to stutter for a moment before it permanently picked up speed. You swallowed hard and wiped your sweaty hands on your skirt before smoothing it out, playing with the hem to avoid meeting the eyes that you continuously find yourself lost in.

“Just hypothetically… do you think you’ve already met the person you could be with romantically?” Your heartbeat was in your ears and you could barely hear his response after you turned to look him in the eyes. Those damn eyes. They were already hard to resist but when he was looking at you like you were the only person in the world and you were sitting so close to him that you could feel his breath on your nose, those were the only things in the world you could look at in that moment; everything else in the world had faded dim behind those golden eyes.

“MC…” Saeyoung’s hand came up to gently push your bangs from your eyes and when he did so, his fingers lightly brushed your forehead before his palm rested on your cheek. “I…” he inched closer to you and you could feel his breath against your lips. Not wanting to waste a moment more not kissing Saeyoung, you met him the rest of the way. The kiss was awkward and clumsy and your teeth clashed quite a few times - it was his first kiss after all - but everything about it in that moment was just so Saeyoung and it had you yearning for more. Saeyoung’s other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you up so you were straddling him, your knees resting on either side of his legs on the bench, feet dangling off. Once he had pulled you closer, his tongue quickly darted out in search of yours and when you eagerly met his with your own, he moaned softly, sending a shiver down your spine. Pulling away once, he softly pecked your lips again before helping you off his lap. “Well that was…” you giggled as he adjusted his pants, hands covering his crotch, and waited for him to speak. “That was-”

“A sight for sore eyes?” A black haired man cut off Saeyoung and you watched as his cheeks flushed red at the sight of the older man. “I wasn’t aware this was a soft-core sex warehouse, I thought it was a wedding reception.”

“Um, Jumin… this is my girlfriend, MC. Darling, you remember me telling you about Jumin?” You immediately straightened up where you were sitting, eager to make a good impression on another one of Saeyoung’s friends.

“Yes, I do. Saeyoung told me that you helped him get out of a bit of a sticky situation. You seem like a very good man to have done that for him, and without you I never would have met him. So, thank you. And you must be Luce?” You directed your attention to the small redheaded girl standing side by side with Jumin.

She nodded her head and Jumin cleared his throat. It was crystal clear that when he was in a room, he naturally commanded the attention of everyone around him and you found yourself shrinking into Saeyoung’s side as he fixed his stare on you. “We should be heading in, yes? We wouldn’t want the bride and groom to think we’re all being rude.”

Once Jumin and his wife walked inside, you buried your head in Saeyoung’s chest, face blaring red in shame. “That was mortifying!”

You could feel his laugh vibrate through his chest as he cupped the back of your head holding you to him. “At least now they have no reason to doubt us!”

Pulling away from him you frowned before standing up. “We should head on in,”

“We should,” Saeyoung agreed, linking your fingers together. You turned to go and as you did, he pulled you back to him, sweetly connecting your lips once more. As your chest collided with his, you let out a ‘hmph’ sound that caused the redhead to smile and softly nip at your lip. “I couldn’t help myself, you’re so cute.”

“So are you,” you admitted and he laughed before letting you lead him into the wedding reception.

The reception was already filled with dancing, drinking, and all other kinds of celebrating when you and Saeyoung finally made it inside the room and when Yoosung and Saeyoung made eye contact, the blond quickly made his way over to you both.

Without saying anything, Saeyoung wrapped his arms tightly around Yoosung’s shoulders and you saw his amethyst eyes widen in shock before closing as he let out a deep sigh, wrapping his arms tightly around his best friends waist. You looked away from the pair, letting them have their moment, and made eye contact with Jaehee who quickly made her way over to you.

“It seems you and Saeyoung are getting along well?” She nudge your side and sent a wink your way, causing your face to flush as you look at the ground. “I mean, I’m glad it’s you he ended up bringing, instead of a complete stranger.”

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” you admitted, glancing at Saeyoung and when your eyes met he smiled and threw a cheeky wink at you before excusing himself from his conversation and crossing the room to you, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“Jaehee, what are you and my gorgeous girlfriend of six months up to?” You felt Saeyoung pull you closer and you immediately relaxed in his arms, moving side to side to the beat of the music.

Jaehee narrowed her eyes at him and sighed, pushing a piece of her hair out of the way. “You’re really subtle at this,” she remarked sarcastically. “Anyway, I should be getting back. I’ll catch up with you both before I leave.” You watched as she wandered back over to her girlfriend and taking her hand, spinning her around.

Turning in Saeyoung’s arms, he tightened his grip on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Dance with me”

“I don’t dance.” His voice was low and husky as apposed to his normal higher voice with a teasing lilt, something that sent a shock straight to your stomach and caused butterflies to permanently reside there.

“Please,” you begged, tugging on an unruly lock of hair that was sticking out from the back of his head. “For me?”

Saeyoung brought his lips up to your ear, brushing them against it as he spoke. “Everyone will be looking at you if I take you on that dance floor. I want you for myself. Next time, I won’t be able to handle myself if you wear a skirt that short, you’re driving me crazy.” That last word was barely a whisper but it left you a mess on your insides, your legs felt like jelly.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” You whispered back and before you could say anything else, his lips connected with yours for the third time that night.

“Aw, look at these two love birds.” Zen teased as you both broke apart. “Do we hear more wedding bells in the future?”

You and Saeyoung shared a look before bursting out laughing. No one but Jaehee, Cordelia and Yoosung understood why something like that was funny, but they all looked on at the both of you with small smiles playing on their lips - they were just glad Saeyoung was happy.

After the reception, Saeyoung and you were in his car, his hand resting possessively on your thigh and when he pulled up to your apartment building, he turned to you. “MC,”

“Saeyoung.” You replied, reaching out to brush some hair from his eyes. “I don’t want to go inside. That means leaving you.”

“I’ll see you the same time next week.” He replied, a faraway look in his eyes. “I can’t wait to be your fake boyfriend again.”

“I can’t wait either,” you agreed and leaned in to rest your forehead on his for a moment before getting out of the car.

“Hey, wait!” You turned around and watched as Saeyoung got out of his car, walking up to you and cupping your face. “I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend next week.”

“You don't? Well, I was under the impression that we were getting along well but...” The end of your sentence fell off as your brows furrowed in confusion and he was quick to retrace what he said.

“No, not like that! I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend because I want to be your real boyfriend. I know it seems sudden, but it’s not really! We talked for a week before this and I enjoy your company and people say that when you know, you know. And I know. You’re the one for me, right now in this second.” His eyes were pleading with you and your heart swelled as you listened to the words coming out of his mouth.

“Would you be interested in being my real boyfriend?” You asked, a small smile playing on your lips as you repeated the words he asked you a week ago, only this time you were asking for real.

“Only if you’re interested in being my real girlfriend!” Saeyoung replied, before his lips delicately brushed yours, just long enough that he could inhale your breath and leave your heart beating in your chest.

“Text me when you get home, I want to make sure you made it safe.” You said after he had pulled away to study your face, eyes brimming with tears. “Hey, what’s going on?” You cupped Saeyoung’s cheek and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and letting a tear roll down to his chin.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he replied, eyes opening and looking at you intently. “It feels nice to have someone care like that.”

“Well get used to it mister,” your thumb brushed under his eyes, catching another tear before it could fall. “I’m gonna care the heck out of you.”

Saeyoung laughed and you found yourself laughing with him, eyes welling with tears as well, and when he noticed you were both crying tears of joy, he laughed harder, causing you to as well. “I should get going, let you sleep.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you whispered, moving to wrap your arms around his waist. “I just said hello.”

“It’s not a goodbye.” Saeyoung promised, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I promise, it’s a see you soon. And I’ll text you when I get home safely.”

You looked up at him to find you already looking at you. Saeyoung was looking at you like he couldn’t believe you were real, almost like you were part of a dream and every moment he was expecting to wake up. “You better,” you jokingly threatened before standing on your tip toes to press one last sweet kiss to his lips.

After watching him drive off, you followed the steps up to your apartment and hopped in the shower, checking your phone after you had dried off. Two notifications had popped up in the time you were away from your phone.

First checking the message from Saeyoung, a smile danced across your lips as you read it: Just got home. sweet dreams. I know I’ll dream of seeing you again.

You quickly replied that you were glad he made it back and you’d dream of him as well before you checked the second notification from Wedding Bells. It was a message from someone on your list of 10 people and you exited out of it before deleting the app. There was no need for it anymore; you had someone to bring to weddings and family functions now.

A week later when you introduced your family to your boyfriend Saeyoung, you proudly showed off your relationship with him, eager to display to your family how amazing he is. He did well too, got along with your younger cousins and helped your mom cook dinner and by the end of the night, everyone couldn’t wait to make plans to see the both of you again. Saeyoung had not only wormed his way into your heart, but the rest of your family’s as well.

“I think they liked me,” Saeyoung joked once you guys had left your parents house. You both were back at your apartment, him holding you in his arms as you both lounged on the couch.

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed, moving your head to press a kiss to his jawline. “They loved you. I haven’t seen my family that enthusiastic about anything related to me since I graduated college. I’ll have to keep you around purely for that fact.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have a huge family for you to meet.” Saeyoung’s voice drooped and you shook your head smiling at him.

“What are you talking about? I met your family at Yoosung’s wedding. Like it or not, but those people love you. Family isn’t blood, it’s the people who love you unconditionally. And there’s a whole bunch of them for you specifically.” You had turned so you were facing him. “Everyone who I met that day cares so deeply about you, never for one second think that you don’t have a family.”

“What would I do without you?” Saeyoung’s forehead came to rest against yours and you laughed, ruffling his hair.

“Perish, probably.”

“I care for you more than I probably should.” He admitted, honey eyes locked on your own.

“I don’t know about that.” You responded. “I care for you a lot too.”

Saeyoung leaned in to gently brush his lips against your own and he pulled back, a goofy grin on his face. “Am I the smartest person in the world for creating that app, or what?”

“Or what.” Grinning back at him, you squealed as his fingers prodded your side, hitting a ticklish spot. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Your laughter rang out in your quiet apartment and Saeyoung wanted to record that sound to have it play whenever he forgot how beautiful your laugh was. “I’m extremely grateful that Jaehee recommended me the app that you made that resulted in me meeting you.”

Saeyoung didn’t respond, instead opting to hold you close and pull you onto his lap before both of you settling back down. He played with your hair as your eyes started drooping and once your soft snores filled the room, his eyes closed as well, content to fall asleep holding you.

[maevemarethyu]

Unexpected (3/?)

(Not my GIF)

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fic.

You were a whole new level of anxious as you wait outside the diner for James. Matt and Foggy were already inside and you could tell how worried they were by the looks on their faces. On the bright side, they didn’t seem murderous so you would have to thank Karen later.

Then, you see him. Well, not so much him as the crowd parting for him like the red sea to avoid him; doing nothing to hide their fear and disgust. You roll your eyes at the ridiculousness of it. It would seem that no matter how much good the man did; people would still look at him like the Winter Soldier.

It really pissed you off and did nothing to help the migraine that had taken residence in the back of your head; crying all night would do that to a person. You probably looked as bad as you felt and you feel self-conscious despite your best efforts. You weren’t here to look good. You were here to get started on your divorce and get home to Laysa. If you were feeling generous, you’d try to talk Matt down from hunting Patrick.

Speak of the devil. Your phone goes off in your pocket for the tenth time this morning, another good morning/have a great day text from your loving husband. You used to think that him finding the time to send you a text was a sweet little gesture, now it made you sick to your stomach. How could he just lie to you like this?

A warm hand on your shoulder jolts you out of your thoughts and your phone slips from you hand and onto the concrete.

“S-shit sorry. I didn’t mean-“ You wave James’ apology off with a tight laugh.

“It’s not your fault.” You mumble as you pick up the phone. By some miracle, the screen had yet to shatter. “See? No harm no foul. This phones been through a lot.”

Up close, he looked good. His blue eyes seemed brighter and the stubble on his face brought out how sharp his jawline was. Seriously how could anyone take a man like James Barnes for granted?

From the corner of your eye, you see Foggy notice you and the man you were with and his face twists into an amusing mixture of shock and worry. “Are you ready?” You ask, flashing him the papers in your hand like a child showing off a good grade and he shows you his.

“As I’ll ever be.” He radiates discomfort so you lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I know this is gonna be hard but, I know this is what’s best for me. I’ve been with Patrick for nearly fifteen years, he’s basically all I’ve ever known. And yet, I know I’ll never be able to forgive him for this. Divorce isn’t for everyone; some couples manage to be happy after working through these situations. Today is just to see whether or not you think this is the right path to take.” Once your spiel is complete, a small smile graces his face before he nods his head towards the door.

“I needed that. Thank you… for all of this.”

“No need to thank me.” You shrug, plastering a smirk on your face. “We’re basically best friends by circumstance. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

You meant it because, even though the way you met was awful, you didn’t want to go your separate ways after today. You needed a friend to vent to too.

“Me too. I mean you too- I just... I’m here for you too” Once again, he’s stumbling over his words and, in the morning light, you can see a blush take over his cheeks. It drags a genuine laugh from the deepest part of your stomach; James Buchannan Barnes, the ex-Winter Soldier, was a shy giant. A teddy bear.

A teddy bear that reaches over you to hold open the door. “After you.”

Matt and Foggy are out of their chairs and flagging you down as soon as you step into the building. God, you loved these two.

You unconsciously grab James’ metal hand to drag him towards your friends and, much to his surprise, you don’t flinch or recoil. Claire always complained that his hand was too cold.

“James, these are my friends Matt Murdock and Franklin Nelson. Guys, this is James Barnes.” You introduce and purposefully ignore Foggy’s wide eyes. You were sure Matt’s eyes were wide as well but, they were hidden behind his dark glasses. You could see they had a hundred question but, ever the professionals, they stay quiet.

“It’s good to meet you” James greets awkwardly.

The waitress comes to take the drink orders and you’re thankful for the momentary distraction. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today.” You start and Foggy snorts.

“We are actually.” Matt nods, whilst elbowing Foggy’s side. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh. No. Not really.” You stall, throat closing at the mere thought of explaining what happened to two of your dearest friends. The last thing you wanted to do was release the Devil of Hell’s kitchen in front of an Avenger. Your hand ball into fists subconsciously and you only notice when your hand is engulfed by James’.

“You’re bleeding.” He whispers, probably thinking it was quiet enough to go unheard by Matt and Foggy but, you knew better. A quick glance at you palms show he was right; your nails had managed to cut through the flesh of you palm.

You know you should pull away but, the warmth of his hand relaxes your tense shoulders and allows you to unclench your jaw.

With a deep breath, you turn to face your friends once more.

“Patrick is cheating on me with James’ wife. I want a divorce but, I want the papers in my hand before I confront him.”

Just as you expected, Matt’s face twists into something terrifying and a shiver runs down your spine at the sight but, to your surprise, its Foggy that starts.

“That fucking piece of shit! I always told you he wasn’t good enough for you.” He growls, pulling out his phone. It took a lot to get Franklin Nelson to the point of belligerent rage. “I’ve had those forms ready for the past six years.”

That had you choking on your water. You knew they didn’t particularly like Patrick but, having your divorce planned out since the day of your marriage?

“You what?! Who are you calling?” You ask and he waves off your question.

“Hey Marci? Can you print the file on my computer labeled When Y/N finally wises up? Thanks hon.”

Next to you, James chuckles and it’s enough to warm your face. This was not how you expected breakfast to go. You look towards an unusually quiet Matt for answers but, his eyes are on the man next to you.

“What about you?” He asks, directing the question at James. “The papers in your hand tell me you and Y/N have the same plan.”

If James is shocked by Matt’s intuitiveness despite his handicap, he doesn’t show it and you give his hand a thankful squeeze.

You interject. “Actually, he just came here for information on-“

“Yeah. I want a divorce too.” He nods, leaving you dumbstruck. “It’s what’s best for me.”

Hearing your words on his lips made your traitorous heart skip a beat and the way Matt shifts in his seat tell you he noticed. Damn him.

He hands Foggy the small stack of papers and the lawyer in him wastes no time; skimming through the pages with a pensive face. The waitress returns to take everyone’s orders and your face scrunches up when James asks for tomato juice with his omlette.

“Seriously? You drink that stuff?” You tease, a welcome reprieve from the seriousness and the man physically relaxes for the first time since you’ve sat down.

“Yeah actually. It’s good for you.” You open your mouth to retort when Matt cuts you off.

“Don’t act like you don’t eat tomatoes like apples. You literally ate enough cherry tomatoes in one sitting to send you to the hospital.” He reminds you of the time when you were in college and ended up in the ER because you’d managed to burn a hole into your stomach lining because of the amount of tomatoes you ingested. Who’d have thought you could throw off your stomach acid’s pH by eating four cartons of cherry tomatoes?

“You did what?” James grins. “And you don’t like tomato juice?”

“It’s the texture.” You defend while adding a shiver of disgust for good measure.

“This is an air-tight contract. Whoever wrote it up was good.” Foggy hums. “One of Stark’s lawyers I’m guessing. Is there any particular reason you aren’t using one of them?”

James didn’t actually have a reason. He supposes he could have used one of Tony’s multiple lawyers but, when you had asked him to come with you today, he had agreed without putting too much thought into it. Coming here with you just seemed like the right thing to do.

It was a good call too. Claire worked in the compound, and secrets never seemed to stay secret there for long. If word got out that he was talking to a lawyer, she’d track him down and he didn’t think he was strong enough to confront her. Not yet.

“Uh- Claire works with me. This was the easiest way to go about it without her finding out.” He explains, suddenly aware of your eyes on him and the fact that his hand was still wrapped around yours. Neither of you make a move to break the contact.

The answer seems to satisfy Foggy but, Matt doesn’t give anything away and you have half a mind to kick his shin under the table. He wasn’t here to intimidate Barnes. Thankfully, it was clear James wasn’t so easily discouraged.

“We could probably have yours done the day after tomorrow.” In reality, two days is extremely fast for things of this nature but, this meant that the two of you have to keep this to yourselves for two more days. You had to pretend to be loving spouses for the next thirty-six hours. It would be torture.

Foggy starts going through what the process was for filing a divorce and you’re so engrossed in it that you don’t notice Matt pull out his phone until you hear him

“Hey Siri; call Frank.” Matt orders and all the blood drains from your face. No.

“Matt please don’t-“ You beg, tightening your grip on James’ hand. “He can’t find out.”

“He has to know Y/N.” Foggy affirms in a much gentler voice and you can feel James’ eyes burning into the side of your head. Panic had gripped your voice and he wanted to know why.

“Can we please wait until after I confront him?” You plead. “I’m not six anymore. I can handle this.”

“Yeah Murdock?” A gruff voice speaks from the device and your breath catches.

You hold Matt’s blank gaze firmly, neither of you yielding until-

“Sorry; meant to call Hank. You know how Siri never gets it right.” He lies and you exhale in relief.

“Whatever.” The phone murmurs before disconnecting just in time for the waitress to set down your table’s food.

“If you don’t tell Frank, I will.” Matt warns once the waitress is out of earshot and, with a roll of your eyes, you unlink your hand from James’ to pull your plate of Belgian waffles towards you.

Your friends begin discussing how to handle both yours and James’ divorces when the latter leans in towards you.

“I’m guessing Frank is that scary friend you warned us about?” He asks, once again keeping his voice low, not realizing just how futile it was.

The answer to his question was yes and no. Frank was scary but, he wasn’t the only one. Unbeknownst to the Avenger, one of your scariest friends was sat across from him, white cane folded on his lap, discussing the legality of your situation.

Matt Murdock played the perfect civilian but, you were one of the few people who knew who he really was.

“That’s putting it lightly.” You mutter, loading your plate with enough syrup to have James’ teeth rotting by just looking at it.

“You really like your sugar, huh?” He chuckles as he watches each pocket of your waffle fill up with the golden brown delicacy and you hum.

“Need it to keep me awake. Can’t stand the taste of coffee and energy drinks just keep me exhausted with an accelerated heartbeat.” Once you’re satisfied, you hand Foggy the syrup out of habit without looking up from your plate and he takes it with a quiet thank you.

“So, how’s Laysa?” He asks and a bright smile crawls onto your face despite your full cheeks.

“She’s doing a lot better.” You say after swallowing. “It was touch and go for a while but, she’s on the way to being a normal, healthy, baby.”

“Good! Because Marci and Karen want to fawn her with gifts and attention. Even Elle admitted to wanting to see her.” Matt grins, finally dropping his glare and conversing like a normal person.

“Elle?!” You snort in disbelief, turning to James to explain why you were shocked, words catching in your throat when you catch him staring at you. There was a look on his face you couldn’t quite describe; the best you could come up with was awed. You felt heat creep up your neck at the sight of it and you quickly focus your attention back to your food.

It was a ridiculous thought. Why the hell would James Buchannan Barnes be in awe of you? You were just you.

“I’ve gotta ask.” Foggy flashes a sardonic smirk. “How are you gonna do it? I’m partial to you setting all of his shit on fire and tossing it off the GW.”

You knew he meant well but, all his words did was make your skin crawl with the realization that you were going to have to confront Patrick and it wasn’t going to be pretty. There would probably be yelling and crying. God, you hated crying.

“I’m… not sure.” You say quietly. “I’ve never had to do anything like this before. I almost want to leave his stuff at the station and text him but, I know that’s cowardly.”

“And you are anything but a coward.” Matt reminds tenderly. You sometimes forgot how well your friends knew you but, you were always grateful they did. He was right. You were not a coward.

That didn’t make this any less terrifying.

“Steve had to talk me out of leaving a letter on Claire’s desk and moving back to Romania.” James admits and the ridiculousness of it lightens the weight on your heart. You weren’t sure if it was true or if he said it to make you feel better but, you decide it doesn’t matter.

“Why don’t you guys do it together? Two birds one stone and all that.” Foggy suggests through a mouth full of hash brown. You and James share a look.

It wasn’t a bad idea. You two could be a united front against your soon to be exes and, having him there wouldn’t allow you to back out, or worse, take Patrick back. Your husband always had a way with words and you always fell for it.

“Are you-?” James begins.

“Yeah… you?” You interject.

“Yeah. I mean yes- I-“

“Okay its settled, you’ll do it together.” Matt finalizes with a slight frown. It was obvious he wasn’t fully behind it but, knew better than you fight you on it. You were stubborn. “I want a call as soon as it’s over.”

Foggy chokes on his food when he garbles Live Stream It and you can’t stop the roll of your eyes. It’s been like this since you met them while studying at Columbia. You could practically picture Foggy’s long hair and hear Matt’s shy voice. A voice you hadn’t heard since you graduated.

Even when you continued your education at a more specialized school, you hadn’t grown apart and it irked Patrick to no end. You were glad that who you hung out with was the one thing you never compromised with him.

“So…” You turn to James. “How are we going to do this?”

[malumsmermaid]

Sweet Dream or a Beautiful Nightmare?

Happy Halloween everyone! This is the halloween event fic for the collab discord!

I chose the prompt of “Person A sells their soul to Person B, a crossroads demon,” for Mashton.

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Demon Michael x Ashton

Description: So I made this an alternate timeline. 5SOS is still 5SOS, but, they don’t really take off until after Ashton is already 18, and Ashton joins the band much earlier than Michael does, for the sake of the prompt and my plans.

Warnings: Demons, mentions of death

Event Masterlist        My Masterlist       Buy Me a Ko-Fi

Ashton took a deep breath, giving the book and bag of supplies sitting in his passenger seat an anxious glance. He’d bought the spell book from a local used bookstore months ago, assuring his two friends that it was just as a joke. This week however, curiosity and desperation took over, leading him to dig through his closet until he found the note-laden spell book, still in the bag it was placed in the day it was purchased. 

He steeled himself, grabbing the book and bag and turning off his car, climbing out and taking sure steps towards the intersection of the streets. He grabbed chalk from the plastic bag, trying not to look too long at the other ingredients for the summoning. He set the book next to him on the ground, shivering as it fell open to the exact page he needed. “Okay Ash,” he breathed, “get yourself together and let’s do it, for the boys. Six guitarists in six months is fucking ridiculous.” 

He dug in the cloth bag for the box of chalk, taking a piece out and walking to the center of the intersection. He kneeled on the pavement, focusing on the crossroads he was at mentally as he drew out the symbol illustrated in the spell book. He knew that Luke, Calum and himself had a great fit for their band, the only thing they were lacking in their balance was the right guitarist. He had a feeling that if they didn’t find another guitarist soon, and if this seventh guitarist wasn’t the missing piece they’d been searching for, the two younger boys may lose hope and give up. He maintained focus on his goal as he meticulously followed the instructions laid out in the book.

Everything completed he took a step back, eyes closed as he focused on what he needed. When he opened his eyes again, there was a cloaked figure in front of him, orange glowing eyes showing from beneath a hood. Ashton stood his ground, even with the lit candles flickering out, staring the orange eyes down as he waited for the crossroads demon to speak. Ashton thought he could make out a smirk on the demon’s lips as he sized up the eighteen year old in front of him.

“Was this just some dare from your friends or do you actually need me for something, kid?” The demon’s voice was low, almost bored.

Ashton squared his shoulders, standing up straighter and sticking his chin out, pushing down even the slightest bit of fear. “I truly believe my band has a good chance of making it in our field, we just are failing desperately at finding the right guitarist.”

The demon blinked, “You’re willing to sell your soul to a demon...for a guitarist. Not the success of the band, just the guitarist.”

Ashton nodded, sighing, “We’ve been through six guitarists in as many months. I’m here for the perfect guitarist for our band. The success will follow from that.”

“Are you sure about that?” the demon asked, fingers fiddling with the large sleeves of the cloak. “This is really what you want to sell your soul for, no little extra guarantee that it will actually work out on top of this guitarist?”

Ashton looked at the ground, silent for a moment, before looking up into the glowing eyes through his fringe, “It really is. I think my bandmates may give up if this next guitarist doesn’t work out, and I don’t want that to happen. Besides, if it had been one of their ideas, I would’ve made sure I was the one to do it. They don’t deserve that.”

“And you do?” The demon retorted, though his voice took on a concerned note.

Ashton paused, eyebrows pulling together before shaking his head. He reached his hand across the sigil he’d drawn in the road, “Do we have a deal?”

The demon took in Ashton’s unwavering position, his refusal to back down, convinced that this was the measure he had to take for his friends. “Deal.” The demon responded, grasping Ashton’s hand in his own. “Guitarist lucky number seven will be at your next rehearsal,” he stated before turning around and getting ready to disappear back into the darkness, “Can’t wait to see how this one turns out.” He muttered to himself.

Ashton gathered what remained of his ingredients, taking them to the car and grabbing his thermos full of water, rinsing the chalk off of the roadway before finally getting back in his car and going home.

~~~~~

Two days later Ashton was setting up his drum kit in Luke’s house. He was anxiously tightening a wing nut to a cymbal when the doorbell rang. Luke frowned, putting his guitar down and going to answer the door. Ashton could hear Luke talking to someone and hummed, continuing his set up. Soon Luke returned, another boy following behind him. “This is Michael,” the blonde started, getting both Ashton and Calum’s attention. “He told me that he heard from a friend that we were looking for another guitarist?”

Luke’s blue eyes were questioning, wondering if his other two bandmates had spoken to anyone about the recent opening. Calum looked just as confused as Luke and Ashton whirred through some excuse he could make up. “I uh, may have mentioned it to one of the people at the barbecue I went to after practice the other night. Didn’t think they’d actually know someone looking for a band though, guess I was wrong.”

Luke simply shrugged and nodded, turning back to Michael, still hanging behind him. Ashton caught the guitarist’s eye and...did he just wink at him? No, he had to have imagined it. Michael’s brown hair fell in his face and he crouched on the floor, pulling his guitar out of the case and tuning it, knowing that the band would need to hear him play before anything was decided.

Ashton finished setting up his kit and took a seat in front of the Hemmings’ Christmas tree. Calum was on one side of him, fidgeting with the shoulders of his tank top, Luke on the other looking at Michael. He’d pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder, guitar hanging on his back as he fidgeted with the strands of his hair before stepping up to Calum’s keyboard. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves before he started playing the opening notes to Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold. He swung his guitar around and began to play. He leaned into the microphone and began singing the lyrics as well and Ashton thought he caught another furtive glance and a smirk from him. 

Luke got to his feet halfway through the song, stopping Michael. “Dude, if you can get along with the three of us as well as you can play guitar, I’d say you’re in. What do you guys think?”

Calum spoke up from his spot, “Yeah, hang out with us some after practice today and same at the next and if we’re all getting along, I’d say it’s going to work out.”

Ashton simply nodded his agreement with the other two boys and got to his feet, going to settle behind his drum set, ready to start practice. Michael was beaming as he moved to the other side of the living room stage, looking at the tabs Luke was showing him for one of the original songs that he wanted to work on today.

~~~~~~~

Michael blended into the group with ease, Ashton and Calum welcoming him in before the first rehearsal with the new guitarist was even over. Ashton brushed off his apprehension about the looks that Michael had been giving him, he was a nice guy and there was no way he could know about the deal the drummer had made. By his third rehearsal, Michael had come up with a name for the group, the other three boys having been struggling with that for a long time, especially with the more pressing issue of keeping a guitarist on the forefront of their minds. 

Soon, 5 Seconds of Summer were posting more videos to Luke’s youtube channel and playing more local shows. With Michael fitting in so well with the group they were now working harder than ever before. After a few months, they finally got a call from a label. They worked out the details with their parents and began touring around the country, and then across the world. 

The years went on and the band’s success continued to grow, multiple albums debuting at number 1 and playing larger and larger venues. During one tour Ashton dyed his hair black, posting a picture in front of a window, captioning it “feeling like a demon again.” Michael was in another room, and he let out a low chuckle when he read the caption, double tapping the photo and carrying on.

It was coming up on ten years since Michael joined the band, ten years since Ashton made a deal with the crossroads demon. He wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate his 28th birthday when it came along, knowing in five months, he would no longer be himself, if he was even still here. They finished recording their sixth album and Ashton went back to Australia for a month, spending time with his family. When he got back to LA in mid-September he began pulling away from his friends, only responding to band related texts immediately, sometimes taking three days to reply to even Calum when he tried to check in. He tried to say that he was working on a second solo album during the lull before they had to start promoting the new record, but he knew that would only hold them off for so long.

By October Ashton’s nightmares of the orange-eyed demon he’d been having from time to time since they met were now nightly. The first week of November he just gave up on sleeping entirely, throat raw from waking up screaming as the cloaked demon dragged him out of bed and down through his bedroom floor into darkness. 

At the end of the week without sleep, Ashton once again found himself spending the whole day sitting on his couch, staring intently at a blank page of his journal. The room grew dark around him as the sun sank in the sky. The last few golden rays travelled through the windows when he recognized the sound of Michael knocking on his door. Before he could get up or even respond to the sound, the door opened, Michael walking straight in. Ashton wearily raised his head, looking at his friend standing in the doorway to the living room. “You look soulless.” Michael said, “Trust me, I would know.”

Ashton shook his head, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning his head on his hands. “What do you need Mike?”

“I know why you’ve been avoiding us, pushing everyone away.”

Ashton let out a dark chuckle. “Sure. Take a guess.” He muttered, keeping his head down.

Michael stepped further into the room, boot stomping on the hardwood. “Ashton. Look at me.”

There was something different to Michael’s voice, and Ashton found himself unable to disobey. He sat up, turning to look at the blonde and gasped. The same glowing orange eyes that had been haunting his nightmares were staring straight at him, coming from Michael’s face. Ashton scrambled backwards until his back was against the far arm of the sofa, the guitar that had been next to him dropping to the floor. Michael frowned, stepping forward, picking up the instrument from the ground, checking it and carefully beginning to tune it again while Ashton searched for words. 

“Y-you!” He choked out, “Get out of Michael!”

The demon sighed, eyes fading back to green as he fiddled with the guitar. He snapped his fingers, turning on some lamps. “Ashton,” he said, voice soft, “I’ve been Michael the whole time, from before you came forth to make the deal to now.”

Ashton shook his head, “So I wasn’t being paranoid about the looks you were giving me when you tried out for the band.”

Michael chuckled, nodding. “I was sort of hoping you’d notice much sooner. I was just drawn in by your confidence that all you needed was a guitarist. And you were right.”

Ashton was still pressed against the arm of the sofa, so Michael stayed where he was, tenderly cradling Ashton’s guitar, letting him set his boundaries, letting him figure out how he felt. Finally, Ashton shifted, actually looking at Michael, no longer pinning himself to the end of the couch. When he spoke, his voice was raw, “It’s just...god, Michael. I’ve trusted you with things I wouldn’t tell anyone else. I’ve been vulnerable with you...I--I’m in fucking love with you.” Ashton’s scoff turned into a disbelieving laugh. “I would fall in love with a demon, makes so much more sense now.”

“Hey now,” Michael said, voice soft as he moved to sit next to Ashton, hand resting on the drummer’s thigh. Ashton didn’t pull away and Michael carried on, “I gave up my original job out of curiosity after we met. The past ten years I’ve spent with you...and the band...I’ve been closer to my old mortal life, old feelings, than I have been in centuries.”

“What do you mean?” Ashton asked, hazel eyes meeting green.

“I mean, I wasn’t always a crossroads demon, if that’s what you’re asking. In my old life I was a travelling minstrel, and one day, I performed the same ceremony you did, summoned the demon who would be my master in order to make a deal.”

Ashton tilted his head, understanding crashing over him and he nodded, curls bouncing. “Did you make the deal you expected me to make? Asking for success and fame?”

Michael chuckled, “No, Ashton, I assumed that’s where you were going because I’ve been a crossroads demon for four hundred years. The number of times I’ve heard that request in the past fifty years alone...it’s not a hard assumption to make.” 

Ashton nodded, quietly waiting to hear Michael’s story. Michael hummed, leaning back into the couch as he began. “It was a festival, celebrating the arrival of spring. We were playing in the market square and a boy caught my eye. I later learned he was the son of the lord and lady of that region and doubted I had much chance. But I had to have him. So, that night, I made a deal and within the next fortnight, I was a regular in his bed. 

His parents knew nothing of the matter and within two years he was married to the daughter of some duchess, but we had an understanding with her. She had little interest in lying with her husband anyway, her heart laid with one of the maids who helped her dress.

Much too soon my time came and I became a demon. I stopped aging, learned my trade, and began my work. I still spent nights with my beloved, but he continued aging, and soon, at least to me, it became clear that he couldn’t keep up with me anymore. I held his hand as he crossed over. He and his wife never had children, even for the sake of appearances, and so their line ended with their deaths. He chose to be reborn, I check in on him once every century, but I always miss when he would be my apparent age. The two times that I caught him in his later years, his soul recognized me for who I was and we had long talks when I came by, but nothing more.”

Ashton stared, nodding as he listened to Michael’s century’s old tale, of who he had been before Ashton was even a thought. “H-have you found him in this century?” He voiced.

Michael chuckled, “Yes, I have. As much as you remind me of him, you aren’t him. No, he’s the man you’ve known as my dad the past few years. Hate that I had to put that sort of spell on him, but I needed a cover. But, like I said, my timing has been off, probably the curse of being a demon, can’t keep up with the man I loved.”

Ashton nodded slowly. “But you know why I can’t tell anyone why I’ve been pulling away. Luke and Calum wouldn’t understand. I...I don’t want to hurt them.”

Michael hummed, pulling Ashton to rest on his chest. “I know, but I have a plan. I’ll get us both out of this. But first you need to get some sleep.”

Ashton wanted to protest, to explain his nightmares, but the warmth of Michael’s body and the song beginning to fill his ears were making his limbs heavy, eyelids drooping.

~~~~~~

Ashton awoke in his dark room, feeling more rested than he had in months. He was dimly aware of the other body in his bed, but opted to continue to lay still, see if sleep would claim him again, unsure how long he had been out. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Michael murmured, shifting to face Ashton.

Ashton didn’t jump, he wasn’t as foggy as he would normally expect upon waking up. He still remembered his conversation with Michael before he’d fallen asleep, and he still felt comforted by Michael’s presence, despite now knowing the truth. “How long was I out?” He hummed, turning to look at Michael’s silhouette.

Michael shifted, picking up his phone to check the time. “So it was like almost 7pm when you fell asleep the other night, then all of yesterday, I cleaned up the house by the way, and now it’s 5am the next day. Thought you were gonna wake up a few times during the day, but you just rolled over after mumbling something.”

Ashton blinked as he tried to take that in. He didn’t think that he’d ever slept that long, even at his most jet-lagged or exhausted following a long tour. “Makes sense, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten any sleep, since I’ve slept without any nightmares.”

Michael nodded, tentatively reaching out. Ashton moved closer, letting Michael place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Looked up tickets, got us a flight home tomorrow afternoon, figured you’d be awake by then. Do you wanna get Luke and Calum together for lunch or dinner today and just have a boy’s night, have a heart to heart?”

“But we can’t really tell them all of it, can we?”

“Up to you, I don’t mind them knowing, my plan includes shrugging off my old job, getting rid of these guys.”

Even knowing the truth, the sight of Michael’s glowing orange eyes still made Ashton flinch. “Let’s just plan getting together today, and decide what we’re going to tell them when we get there. I’m going to go do some yoga, stretch out after being in bed so long.” Ashton got out of bed after Michael nodded, stretching out his back as he walked around the bed. “How about dinner? Then we can come back here and talk more.”

Michael agreed, “I’ll send them a text later to get everything planned, doubt they’d appreciate a 5am text.”

~~~~~~

Ashton ended up deciding against telling Luke and Calum the full story, since it sounded like Michael was planning on no longer being a demon by the end of the week, and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to explain how Michael had really become part of the band, by Ashton making a deal with the demon. They’d been nothing but supportive, reminding him that they’re always there if he needs to talk. Michael was sitting next to him, occasionally giving him gentle touches and reassuring looks as he explained some of what he’d been going through. 

Ashton slept the whole flight back to Australia the next day, only waking during a spot of turbulence to find Michael had rested his head on Ashton’s shoulder, also asleep. Once they’d landed, Michael rented a car and they went to get dinner before checking into the hotel. “Let’s get some rest,” Michael said after he set his bag down, taking a seat on the bed. “Then tomorrow night we’ll go back to where we first met and get this reversed, neither of us will have anything to worry about anymore.”

Ashton nodded, and both men took turns getting ready for bed. There were two beds in the room, but Ashton looked over at Michael anxiously. “Can I sleep next to you? I...I don’t want to be alone in a bed again.”

Michael nodded and Ashton flipped off the lamp by the bed he’d originally claimed, crawling in next to Michael. He moved close to him, scared to be touching him, still not entirely sure where they stood. Michael however, closed the distance after he turned off the lamp, pressing his body closer and throwing an arm over Ashton’s shoulder.

The pair slept soundly through the night, spending the day laying low, having lunch and dinner out at quieter local cafes. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, full moon rising higher in the sky, Michael drove out to the crossroads where Ashton had summoned him just a month shy of ten years ago. He pulled over, reaching into the backseat for the bag he’d brought with him. Ashton followed him to the center of the intersection, watching as Michael began the summoning ceremony Ashton had followed, but in reverse order. The asphalt swallowed up the ingredients as Michael threw them down, the demon chanting in an ancient language as he circled the ground. He traced glowing orange runes into the road. 

Once there was a glowing circle surrounding the runes, Michael stepped back, arms open wide as he continued chanting, Ashton hesitantly stepping forward to stand at his side. Michael fell silent as before them appeared a figure far more terrifying than anything Ashton’s nightmares had conjured. Ashton was petrified, rooted to the spot. Michael gave him a glance before looking back at the entity before them. “Hey Cain, been a minute. Could you do human form, for the sake of my best friend here?”

The figure began to shrink, swirling shadows of dark fog turning to flesh and animal skin clothing, terrifying features morphing to human. “Cain?” Ashton squeaked, “Like Cain and Abel, Cain? Like…”

Michael simply nodded, “Told him about 150 years ago that he owed me a massive favor, now I’m cashing in.”

Cain snorted, now fully human, leaning on a wooden club. “I have existed for millenia, young minstrel, that may as well have been yesterday.”

Michael simply rolled his eyes, carrying on. “Look, you owe me big time and that’s what matters. Ash owes me his soul and his day is coming up, but I don’t want it anymore. I’ve spent the last ten years with Ashton and our bandmates and I’ve been more in touch with my mortal side than I’ve been since my beloved died the first time. After watching him die that first time, and then several times after that, I’m done. I have a new love and I can’t go through that again, watch him age and die. And none of that redemption myth stuff that goes around. I want to be mortal, I want to grow old for the first time in my entire existence, and I want to do that with Ashton.”

Ashton blinked, staring at Michael before he turned to look at Cain, who was deep in thought over Michael’s request. “That definitely is well within your right to request, and fills my debt to you without leaving you in debt to me...well thought out, minstrel.”

Michael’s face remained neutral and Cain held his hands out on either side of him. In his right hand, a scroll with what Ashton recognized as his signature at the bottom, in his left, a glowing ball of light. Cain released the ball of light, which began to float toward Michael as the scroll tore in two and burst into flame. “The deal is complete.” Cain stated, disappearing into shadow as the ball of light reached Michael, floating into his chest.

As soon as the light touched Michael’s chest, he collapsed onto the pavement, Ashton gasping and rushing to his side. Shadows poured from Michael’s eyes, nose, mouth and ears, sinking into the ground. Ashton crouched on the road, holding Michael’s head in his lap as the last of the shadows trickled out and faded away. The blonde’s eyelids slowly fluttered, finally blinking open fully. Ashton stared down at him, an extra glimmer of life showing in Michael’s green eyes that Ashton didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “Ash,” Michael croaked, trying to push himself up, but Ashton firmly pushed his shoulders back down.

“You just got blasted back by that bright thing, you need to chill for a moment.” He stated, hands staying on Michael’s shoulders.

Michael remained still, smiling up at Ashton. “It was my soul, my original soul, the one I signed over,” Michael whispered, “I can feel it.” He paused, then his eyes widened, “Do I look fucking ancient now?” He gasped.

Ashton chuckled, shaking his head, “No, you look like Michael, the same Michael I’ve known for the past ten years, just a little more soul behind your eyes.”

Michael rolled his eyes at the joke before looking up at the stars. “I meant it, when I said I wanted to grow old with you.”

“I know. I do too, I’m glad we have that option now.”

Michael smiled and they sat there quietly until Ashton felt that Michael had recovered, finally getting to their feet and driving back to the hotel. They spent the rest of the week in Australia, Cain’s deal hadn’t undone Michael’s spell on his parents, and both he and Ashton were glad of that, visiting with both their families while they were there. 

Once they were back in LA, Michael began moving his things into Ashton’s house. They had dinner with Luke and Calum, and the other two men could tell that something had changed between their friends, but didn’t push it. They knew that they’d be told when Michael and Ashton were ready.

Months later, Michael and Ashton were in their garden, sitting around the fire pit. They’d told Calum and Luke about their relationship at New Years, to which Luke yelled “Finally!” They’d all laughed and hugged before staring into the sky as fireworks exploded across the city, well ahead of midnight. 

Tonight was the last night of peace before they were set to go back into the studio. Ashton cuddled closer to Michael on the bench, lazily poking at the burning logs with the hook. “Y’know,” he whispered, “I feel like, if we were both human the whole time we’ve known each other, I’d still offer you my soul.”

Michael glanced at him, green eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Ashton giggled, dropping the metal rod to the grass and leaning up and giving Michael a kiss.

“Like in the I’m totally in love with you way, you worry wart.” He said. “I trust you with my heart and every bit of my being. I know that you won’t hurt me.”

Michael hummed, smiling at Ashton, watching the flames dance in his hazel eyes. “You know what?” He said after a couple of minutes, “I’d give you my soul too.” Michael tore his gaze from Ashton for a moment, sticking his skewer into the flames, watching the marshmallow goo that was still stuck to the metal blacken and drip into the fire. “Feels a lot better this way.” He observed, “With my first love I signed over my soul to get it, but to you, I’d give it freely.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Ashton whispered.

Michael nodded, dipping his head for another kiss. “I love you Ashton Irwin.”

“And I you, Michael Clifford.”

Tag List: @irwinkitten @calpops @goth5sos @wildflowergrae @talkfastromance4 @maluminspace @notinthesameguey @superbloomirwin @sexgodashton @castaway-cashton @treatallwithkindness @theyorthemrecords @another-lonely-heart @ghostofmashton @opheliaaurora23 @loxerofmine @youngblood199456 @megz1985 @strawberriesonsummer

Slash Tag List: @tigerteeff

Want to be added?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 V

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

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

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

This Chapter: The court celebrates the harvest.

Note: I’m a goddamn liar and ended up writing this after work and staying up past midnight because I have a problem people. I need help but until then I’m gonna keep posting so here ya go, my lovelies.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

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

The week of the harvest celebration had come, though time seemed to stand still. Each day dragged on dreading the next. Anxious of what the king should do next, of how the court should roil once more, of your own part in the brewing mess. Even as the waters calmed it did not comfort you. Peace only assured you that chaos was on the horizon.

Rose continued to stew in her anger. You dared to think it was jealousy. While the king persisted in his prolonged stares during rehearsals, your partner did not ease matters as he passed along his master’s messages. Each added to the weight on your shoulders, the guilt that stabbed you each time you looked at the queen. Though you did not encourage it, you felt your part in it just as grievous.

And your father. When you met again, he did not spare a word. His disappointment, his frustration, his anger all spent upon you. Your disobedience had nearly cost him. Never mind that it kept your reputation in tact, that it gave hope to a future betrothal. He didn’t want an earl’s wife, he wanted a king’s mistress. The baubles you refused to accept, the promise of a title greater than his own father’s. You factored little in his desires outside your ability to fulfill them.

The saffron brocade was stiff across your chest, cut much lower than your usual gowns. Each woman was to wear a different shade of autumn for the performance. The king and queen would lead in goldenrod yellow as satins and silks of auburns, scarlets, and moss would swirl in. In imitation of a rush of leaves falling from the barren trees, heralding the change of seasons.

A seamstress knelt at your feet and pinned the skirts. The queen ran a finger along her throat as she considered you. It was the final fitting before the banquet; you were the last of the women to attend their measurements. 

You could barely look Eleanor in the eye. Hearsay was rife as it always was but did she believe the whispers. Did she think the king truly enamoured by you? Did she know of the letters? The gifts he sent along with them? The ones you would not open, that were sent back untouched.

If she did, she did not betray herself. She smiled as she neared and touched the golden border along the top of the bodice. “Tighter around the waist,” She suggested to the tailor. “A half inch lower here.”

You looked down at your chest. You blinked. You really didn’t need less fabric there. As it was, your cleavage was more than noticeable. You bit your lip but did not protest.

“The colour is marvelous,” The queen looked you in the face. “Are you well, my lady?”

“I am but…” You hesitated as the seamstress pinned the bodice. “There are matters we should speak of, your highness.”

“Yes, I think there are,” She nodded and gestured to the seamstress. “If you would excuse us a moment.”

The other woman acquiesced with a bow and quickly retreated. The door closed behind her and left you alone with Eleanor. She smiled and swept away from you to sit on a cushioned bench as the pins in her ashy blonde hair caught the light. She patted the cushion next to her.

“Sit, let us talk of what worries you so.” She cooed.

“Your highness,” You approached reluctantly. “I do not think myself fit for this. I am a poor dancer.”

“You are not so bad,” She said as you sat beside her. “Heavy-footed but not entirely hopeless.”

“Hopeless enough.” You grumbled. “Especially in a place such as this.”

“I know you shall do just fine.” She smiled. “But you do not refer to only the performance, do you, lady?”

“No, no, I do not,” You looked at your lap. “Surely, you’ve heard.”

“There are no secrets at court,” She returned. “I know my husband’s attention has strayed again. I hear Lady Rose and her detest, her complaints of her neglect. And it makes me most happy.”

“But the king…”

“The king does as he wishes. I cannot stop him but I can abide it so long as I am not met with nonchalance and scorn.” She held her head high. “I can stand any mistress but none who would shame me so openly.”

“I...I have refused the king. Every time. I do not wish to involve myself in your marriage. Your highness,  I admire you too much. I would never--”

“You’re a smart girl. I trust you are able enough but this court is perilous. Allies are rare but should be welcomed,” She pulled a loose string from the tail of your hood. “So long as you are...covert, I would have no reason to mind the dalliance.”

“P-pardon? Your highness, I don’t understand--”

“Do with my husband as you please. I know you, my lady. You are loyal and you will not so blatantly degrade me. If I must bear this marriage, I shall bear it with a mite of dignity.”

“I please none of it and yet he does not relent. If you are truly my ally, can you not stop him?”

“He will not relent. He never has and I’ve never been able to stop him. No one has.” She sighed and her long lashes flicked. “I do prefer you to Rose. Oh, I do very much.”

“You…” For a moment you gasped for air. The realization struck you in the chest. “You have maneuvered me thus, haven’t you? Because you knew the king would never tolerate your mistreatment of his mistress and so you thrust me before him.”

“I did not thrust you, my lady,” She smiled. “You were merely well-positioned at a most opportune moment.”

Your mouth was bitter with betrayal. The queen had seemed the only genuine character at court but in a moment, she revealed herself to be just as vile as the rest. Perhaps it was easy to pity a scorned woman but it was little excuse for the disgrace of another. You could not forgive her crime on the grounds of another done to her. You clenched your hands together as you tried not to scowl.

“And you expect me to appease him? To forfeit my virtue to him?” You stared at your skirts.

“I expect you to do as you think necessary,” She said, “But my husband gives little heed to what is necessary. To what it proper. He will take as he pleases, not as you please.”

You looked up at her. Terrified. “And you would not stop him?”

“Cannot.” She shrugged and a glimmer of regret flashed her in eyes. She pitied you. “It is not so bad. You will be taken care of after. A husband will be found, or if that does not please you, a household all your own. I swear it on my honour.”

“Your honour?” You scoffed. “You bartered me to your own husband.”

“A barter you could only dream of,” Her green eyes sharpened. “You don’t know, cannot know, what is like. To be ridiculed daily. To be tied to a man who can never love you, a court that will never accept you as their own.” She shook her head. “I did mislead you, I admit it, but only because I know you to be honest. To be without presumption. You would not bring me further shame because you fear it yourself.”

“Do you not realize that you’ve already brought shame upon me?” You stood and crossed the room. You couldn’t stand to be near her. “You are not a friend to me, my queen. I am...alone.”

Silence. You heard the rustle of her skirts but she did not near you. You turned as she reached the door. She adjusted a pin in her hair as she reached for the handle. She exhaled softly. 

“You will change so that the dress may be altered and you will go. And you will never speak to me as you have again. I am still your queen.”

👑

The day of the harvest arrived. The feast hall was draped in golden and bronze silks as the court gathered along the trestles. The benches did not overflow as dancers hid beneath the canopy just beyond the doors, awaiting their grand entrance to the plucking of lutes and trill of flutes.

You stood quietly, head down, hands clamped together as you recited the steps in your head. You weren’t prepared. No matter how often the master led you through the steps, you’d never be ready. You weren’t a dancer and you were too distracted to retain the simple choreography. 

A shiver went up your spine as a familiar voice met your ears. The space was tight and the performers were close. Steven’s laughter boomed in the small space and you looked up. The king and queen were at the front of the procession, several pairs between you. He was drawn by your movement and grinned at you before you shied away. The queen batted her lashes and took her husband’s hand. Her response was not heard.

“You should not be so nervous,” Lord Barnes intoned. You’d forgotten his presence beside you. “You are not so tragic as you think.”

“Ever gracious but a poor liar, Lord Barnes.” You huffed. “I have noticed how you’ve padded your boots.”

He chuckled. “Of the dozen pairs among us, do you think we would stick out so sorely?”

“I hope not,” You said. “Thought I apologize if I should make fools of both of us.”

“You are much too cynical.” He stepped closer. “You deny yourself even the slightest error. How can one find any pleasure in life with such suffocating restraint?”

“As a lord who would never face consequence for his lack of, I doubt you could understand the caution of a lady.” You returned. 

“Surely not. I could never be so pious. So...boring.” He mused.

You bristled and turned your face away from him. You looked around at the other dancers as they chattered and fidgeted in their impatience. Rose snarled as she caught your eye and shrugged off Lord Alan. You blanched and tucked your chin to your chest.

“I was teasing, my lady,” Barnes leaned in. “You needn’t take it so heavily.”

“I am aware, my lord. I can understand humour, as poorly as it may be presented.” You looked to him pointedly. “I may be plain but I am not simple.”

He laughed again. He glanced around and you followed his gaze to the door. The king peered between the bodies and watched intently. You stiffened and returned your attention to your partner.

“So I’ve noticed.” Barnes said. “As has he.”

“And you, his infiltrator?” You arched a brow. “Do you recount our every word?”

“I might be a loyal companion to the crown but I am no informant. What we speak of remains between us, I swear it.” He assured you. “But I might tell you something...most intimate.”

“So you would?” You prodded.

“I’ve known Steven since we were children. I know him better than any. I know him beyond the courtly disguise he wears.” Barnes faced you and took your hand. He drew you close. “As I stand near to you, he watches, he seethes, because he is quite taken by you.” His voice was low. “And the more you refuse him, the more taken he shall be.” He raised your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “And he has rarely been refused in his life...he will not stand for it long.”

“Is this a warning or another message?” He dropped your hand and stepped back.

The queen’s voice rose above the babble and she clapped her hands. “Lords, Ladies, we are due. Positions, please.” 

She turned and the king raised his hand for her to take. Each couple mirrored them and you took Barnes hand as he stood side by side with you. He looked to his feet and pretended to kick the dust from his toe as he spoke under his breath.

“It is both, my lady,” He whispered. “A king’s requests quickly become commands.”

👑

“May I?” Barnes was beside you before you could flee. 

You’d hoped to cling to the wall until you could manage to sneak away. As late, you’d grown much too conspicuous for that. You turned back to him, caught in your retreat, and sighed. He was not the only to note your attempted escape. Your father sneered from his seat and the king raised his head above the queen’s as they spun along the boards.

“I wouldn’t pain you or your toes further, my lord.” You replied. 

“I can bear it,” He assured you. “And there is no other partner I wish. They’re all rather dull.”

“Dull of foot might be more painful than dull of wit.” You returned and he grinned.

“The wit does outweigh the foot, my lady,” He offered his hand. “Come on.”

Your eyes were drawn back to your father. He tilted his head dangerously. You couldn’t tell if it were to deter you from dancing or from leaving. You forced a smile and took Barnes’ hand. He guided you onto the floor lithely. His feet were swift and kept clear of your own.

“Did I mention how wonderful you look, tonight?” He marveled as you turned in time with the room. “The cut of that dress is quite complimentary.”

You kept your head high and did your best to follow the steps. “Thank you, my lord. That is kind of you to say.”

“Not so drab as that habit you wore before,” He japed. “Was it the queen who recommended the brocade?”

You stared at him. You struggled to piece together the puzzle. Did he operate upon his own resolve? Upon the kings? Or perhaps he was just as much the pet of the queen? Your lips pressed together as you peeked again across the room. Both king and queen watched you as they moved their bodies gracefully to the music.

“The queen did,” You answered evenly. “She was certain to see that all her ladies were attired fittingly for the event.”

You avoided his gaze as he watched you. As you tried to decipher him, he did the same to you. Your foot came down on his but he did not flinch as he smoothly guided you along the floor. The music swirled around you with your skirts as you were led in the jig. Your head spun with the candlelight and crowd of satin and silk.  He squeezed your hand and you looked to him. He smirked as the music eased to the next tune and he bowed to you. 

“My lady,” He said as he led you by your hand. 

As he turned you, you found the king waiting. You searched through the crowd, the queen was already swept up by Lord Samuel. She paid no heed to her husband’s ploy. You wondered if she were not a party to it. Lord Barnes released you and nodded to his king. “Your highness.”

“Would you allow me a dance, my lady?” The king coaxed.

You fought not to dissemble. You glanced around and found your father still watching. He leaned forward as he nodded. His hand was in a fist on the table. You didn’t dare resist. You took the king’s hand and let him lead you to the melody.

“My lady, you are more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you,” He said breathily. His eyes did not meet yours as they wandered to the top of your bodice. “I’ve found it most difficult to think of anything but you this night ...truly every night.”

“You flatter me, your highness.”

“I am honest. I bear myself to you.” He said. “And you still refuse my gifts? Still refuse me?”

“You know I cannot--”

“I know you are afraid but you haven’t reason to be. I shall protect you; from the queen, from the court. You shall be mine and I shall make certain you are kept well.” His blue eyes burned down at you. “I only long to give you everything. To give you all of me, all I ask in return is you.”

“You are married--”

“But not in love.”

“You are king and I am an earl’s daughter. Unwed and without betrothal.”

“As king, I can see to your future. I can give you title, a castle, lands…”

“So I shall lower myself to courtesan for you?”

“No, no, never. I shall raise you, my lady. Hold you in the highest esteem.”

“You shall ruin my reputation.”

“Can you not see how I suffer? My lady, you torment me so.”

“Your highness,” You stopped short and he nearly stumbled. “It cannot be. To prolong it will not change the circumstance that divides us. I do not seek infamy, I do not seek controversy, nor will I lower myself to be your mistress.”

“Lower…? I do not ask you--”

“You do. For what shall people say? What do they already whisper?” You rescinded your hand. “Your highness, you have not considered fully what you ask of me. You have not considered me.”

“I--”

“Excuse me, your highness,” You touched your stomach as it knotted. “I think I am unwell.”

He blinked, stunned. He bowed his head and you backed away from him. You readied yourself for his pursuit. For him to stop you. He did not and when he was hidden by the crowd, you turned and scurried to the door.

You didn’t slow until you reached an alcove just along the corridor. You were shaky as you leaned against the stone and caught your breath. Would the king be upset? Surely your father would but you could face his wrath as you had your entire life. You recalled Barnes’ words. Would the king cease to merely ask?

And who could save you? The king had a dozen allies and you had not one. The queen would not stop him, nor would his leal friend. Your father, surely, would find a way to assist him. Your own blood would sell you into scandal. You were so very alone.

A sole scuffed upon the stone and drew you from your reverie. A shadow loomed just around the corner and you tucked yourself into the alcove. You flattened your skirts with your hands and held your breath. The footsteps neared and you didn’t dare to move.

The king’s tall silhouette appeared before you. He walked past the alcove as he looked around. He sighed softly and hung his head. He tapped his toe as he stopped and hooked his thumbs in his belt. You watched, paralysed. 

He let out a disappointed grumble and turned back. The toe of his boot caught the hem of your skirt as it splayed out from your hiding spot and he stopped. He looked over and his eyes met yours in the dim of the lanterns. They pierced you through the shadows and his lips curved.

“My lady,” He greeted, “Why do you run from me?” He stepped forward. “Hide from me?” He lowered himself to his knees as he reached for your hands. “Can’t you see how desperate I am? How I am completely at your mercy?”

“Your highness, please,” You begged as he gripped your hands tightly. “Please, this is indecent.”

“My lady,” He brought your hands to his lips and laid a dozen kisses upon them. “I cannot wait. I’ve never waited so long and it pains me deeply. Every second I am away from you, I cannot think. I cannot live.”

“Your highness,” Your voice was coarse as you tried to escape his hold. “You would tarnish me.”

He released your hands and you tried to brush past him. He caught you around the waist and pulled you against him. He pressed his face to your stomach and kissed the taut brocade. He nuzzled into you and raised his chin to look up at you over your bosom. You caught his shoulders as you struggled with him.

“Please, please…” You could barely speak. You were terrified at his strength, at how easily he held you there. He walked forward on his knees as he pushed you back into the alcove until you met the wall. “Please…”

He dropped his arms and you felt your skirts lift and you sobbed. He lowered his head as he tugged at your skirts and you felt the cool air on your ankles. He bent and you pressed yourself to the wall. You could barely breathe as you watched him. He lowered himself until his lips met your slippers. He kissed both and sat back on his heels.

“Can’t you see, my lady?” He peered up at you. “You have me on my knees?” He bent to kiss them again. “I am yours.” He declared as he sat up once more. “Entirely yours.”

You clasped your hands before your chest. You were trembling. You could not speak as you stared down at him. He let your skirt fall back into place as he stood. His shadow enshrined you as he reached out to touch your cheek.

“Are you afraid, my lady?��

You nodded and turned away from his touch.

“You needn’t be for I shall find a way for us to be together. A proper way.” His fingers trailed down and he dragged his thumb along your lower lip. “I promise you, I will.”

For a moment, he held your face. His hand firmly cradled your chin and he leaned in until his breath was upon your lips. His thumb traced your lips and he closed his eyes. He let out a long sigh and pulled away from you suddenly.

“I will wait,” He said, though he spoke more to himself than you. “I will wait.” He opened his eyes and bowed to you. “My lady.” 

You watched him back away, too stunned to move as his shadow faded down the hall and his footsteps softened to silence. You cowered in the stone alcove until you were certain he was gone. At last, you found your strength and stepped into the amber light of the lanterns. 

Lord Barnes’ foreboding rang in your head; ‘A king’s requests quickly become commands.’