#also it saved a couple of other white shirts that had stains on them i'm so happy

[margaritalaux-antille]

tie dyed a whole bunch of shirts and i'm literally a new person

[thewornoutandtired]

Waking Up

When I first woke up, nothing looked familiar. I wasn't in my room, or a classroom, or any of my friends' houses. The bed felt uncomfortable under me, like it was much thinner than any of my other ones. I finally opened my eyes, looking up at a ceiling that was dimly lit by a light I couldn't see. The bare, off-white ceiling had a brownish stain on it that my half-asleep brain told me was an eevee.

Wait? Where the fuck am I?

The realization hit me like a freight train, and I sat up quick enough that I got dizzy for a second. As I fought the gnaw of panic inside me, I took in my surroundings.

The entire room was the same off-white color, save the fake wood flooring. I was laying in a twin bed in one corner, my feet hanging off the end, with a single sheet and blanket covering me. There were two chairs against the wall opposite me with a nightstand between myself and them, a window with built-in shades just past the foot of my bed, a nightlight built into the far-right corner, and a door with a little window in the far left. The room had no decorations, no electronics, no signage or any clue as to where I was.

Where the hell was I? The last thing I could remember was...getting into a fight? I remembered yelling, arguing with someone or someones, and then everything was black. My arms hurt, but I couldn't remember how I had injured them.

I tried to crawl out of bed, and realized that my right wrist wouldn't come with me. I pulled the covers back and saw a set of handcuffs locking chaining me to a rail on the bed. I also realized that I was wearing clothes I didn't recognize. I had never owned a pair of sweatpants or a t-shirt in this shade of grey. The long sleeves of shirt were really scratchy on the inside, like they had some kind of padding, and I figured that must be what was hurting me.

A shadow passed by the window, and I tried to call out to it. My voice was hoarse, like I had either been screaming nonstop or hadn't spoken in days. All that came out was a raspy croaking noise, but apparently it was enough. The door opened.

In walked an old woman wearing scrubs. She smiled at me as she flipped on the lights, but I saw it falter when she looked at my face. My rising panic must have been showing.

"How are you feeling, dearie?" She asked me. Her voice reminded me of my grandmother. It was soothing, and I could actually feel myself getting calmer.

"Where am I?" I managed to choke out, my voice still sounding like I'd been smoking since I was born.

"You're in the hospital, dearie, do you really not remember?" the nurse asked me, kneeling next to my bedside. She pulled a remote out of the nightstand as I shook my head. "I'm sorry for that, dearie. Would you like some water?"

I nodded enthusiastically at that, and the nurse pushed a button on the remote. It made a beeping noise, and she showed it to me.

"This here is a remote just for you. This one calls the nurse's station, these two control the temperature in your room, and this one is the nightlight.

A second nurse entered the room, this one a man who was probably in his thirties. He handed the nurse a cup of water and a smaller cup that rattled. The lady nurse handed me the water and let me take a couple of awkward sips using my left hand before she handed me the other one.

There were three pills in the cup, two oblong white ones and a circular blue one. I looked at the nurse in confusion, but she merely nodded.

"Take them please, dearie. It's important that you do."

I swallowed all three down, juggling the pill cup with the water cup before looking at the nurse again. "What were they?"

"One antipsychotic, one antidepressant, and one sedative." She said primly.

"You're knocking me out?"

"You're supposed to be out for another two days while your arms and insides heal, dearie. The next time you wake up, press the call button and either I or the doctor will come see you, okay?"

"Can I ask one more question?" I asked, already feeling groggy from the sedative.

"I suppose one more won't hurt." The nurse smiled kindly at me.

"Why am I chained to the bed?"

"Because you hurt people, dearie, and the police are afraid that you might escape or try to hurt me or someone else."

The shock from what she told me couldn't stop the chemicals from dragging me down, but her words did echo into my dreams.

[cades-outsider]

Older Johnny Lawrence X Reader

Warnings: HUGE TW: DADDY ISSUES, BLOOD, MENTIONS OF DRINKING (requests closed)

Hidden Issues

Nobody knew what you went through each day, they had no clue. On the outside you were simply a happy and energetic person.... but on the inside you felt like you didn't belong in your own body sometimes.

You had a couple issues but so does everyone, but that doesn't make it okay. You have issues and it's not okay, you shouldn't have to suffer for other people's... pleasures.

You had a couple issues mainly with your dad, as some would say 'daddy issues'. These issues struck most of your others, it really only took one main issue to strike thousands of others... some people understood and some people didn't... simple.

Right now your body currently felt numb, your dad had got drunk at a bar, came home and pretty much beat you.... with a glass beer bottle. There wasn't to much damage but you had a couple opened wounds that were bleeding profusely, but slowing down with time.

You didn't know who to go to, as you were wiping off as much blood as you could you were also thinking of a place to go. The only person you could think of was Johnny, he pretty much saved you though he didn't know about your issues... but that's okay he had them to but you didn't know either.

Your old man was passed out drunk in the hallway so you didn't have to worry about him until the next day. You wished it was like any movie where you only live a couple feet away, but no you lived a little on the out skirts so about a mile or two.

You may think it's not much but, walking for 2 miles would be about roughly 20-25 minutes and for how tired you were having being woken up in the middle of the night, plus you were bleeding.

You just decided on grabbing your dads keys and stealing his car for now, you would deal with the consequences later... after all he put you in this position so you had the right.

Driving as calmly to Johnny's by car it only was 10 minutes away, that was still time on your body, as you were still bleeding. The blood soaked through your white t-shirt so it didn't only feel like you got beat up, but looked like it to.

You park the car and grab the keys as you take a couple deep breaths before going up to Johnny's apartment and knocking on the door.

Some noises of stuff falling over soon covered your sound as Johnny opened the door, squinting his eyes at the street lights. His vision soon coming into view as he scans your appearance.

You were only wearing a white t- and some pajama shorts as you were in bed before it happened. "Oh my god.." his mouth falls open as he feels like he just whiteness a nightmare.... which for you he did.

"Hey" You said lowly as your eyes started to feel droopy, from the loss of blood. Your tear stained cheeks felt like they started to form rashes from the constant wiping your tears.

Your whole body started to fall as you passed out from loss of blood, being tired, and the constant moving around. You fell straight into Johnny's arms, snapping out of his daze he picks you up bridal style and carries you into his bathroom.

He was stuck on what to do for a while, he didn't want to remove your clothes without your consent but he didn't want you to stay covered in blood.

Running you a hot bath he just decided on taking your shirt and shorts off, thankfully you fell asleep with a bra on. Though he could tell you were wearing a bra because of the see through while.

Your blood soaked in through your shirt which stained your light pink bra, he gently placed you in the tub and began washing you with a wash rag.

Soon your body comes back to life as you wake up feeling the warm water on your skin, you slightly smile visually as you feel more relaxed, the cuts weren't bleeding anymore because of the hot water but you could still feel it.

Soon your heavy eyes open, your vision is quiet blurred until you blink your eyes a couple times to reveal Johnny looking at you with worry evident in his features.

"Hey.." You croak out, your voice a bit hoarse.

"Y/n, I wouldn't normally ask this soon but please.. what happened?" He questions.

You look away shameful for a few seconds "my dad..." you mumble loud enough for Johnny to hear though.

His eyes visibly darken but you feel like you don't even have enough energy to speak more that one sentence.

He places his hands on his face leaning on the edge of the bathtub with a angry sigh "why didn't you tell me before? I would have helped" Johnny questions.

"I was scared..." You mumbled fidgeting with your finger pads.

"Come on we need to get you patched up" He sighs, lifting you up bridal style once again using a towel to dry you off in the process.

He puts a towel on the toilet seat and sets you down gently before drying off spots he could with less pressure not wanting to deepen the cuts.

Fixing you up with quick patches he gives you one of his clean band shirts before picking you up and placing you on his bed with him.

"Thank you Johnny... really" You say great full.

"It's no worry, I'm just glad you're okay" He stresses.

You gaze up at Johnny as he was letting you lay on his chest, you had felt romantic feelings towards Johnny and you couldn't help it really.

You lean forward and press a kiss against his lips before pulling away pretty fast "I-I'm sorry I don't know what came over me" You say embarrassed.

Johnny smiles before pressing a kiss against your lips "I feel the same" he gives a slight smirk, as you blush.

The night almost ended with you both sleeping and cuddling into each other peacefully.

By almost I mean Johnny waited until you fell asleep to drive to your house and deal with your old man, he would never hurt you again.

_______________________________________________

Requested by @comingofagegirl

Sorry it took so long!!!!

[nonstoplover]

happily ending catastrophies ~ Fred Weasley

summary: Fred is accidentally (and fortunately) at the right place in the right time, and is able to save a muggle girl's life.

pairing: Fred Weasley x muggle (female) reader

words: 5K

meaning of: (y/h/c) means 'your hair colour'

(kinda) warnings: (1) this plays after the war and Fred lives, because i refuse to accept anything else; (2) i'm not from the UK so excuse the possible mistakes i made about the underground; (3) also there are a couple time jumps, i didn't want to drag it for too long and had quite a few ideas i wanted to write

a/n: this was an idea born whilst i was studying for this year's most difficult exam at uni lol but i thought it was worth giving a shot so here it goes xx

my masterlist

(y/n) wakes up to the sweet scent of some kind of flower filling up her nose and lungs. Despite the panging in her head she cracks her eyes open to find the source, though as soon as she takes in the totally unfamiliar room around her, the flower immediately gets forgotten.

What the hell?

She frowns, pushing her upper body up on her elbows to get a better look around. She has never seen this room ever before. Or has she? Suddenly she's not so sure as a foggy memory appears in her mind. Her glance travels across the cardboard boxes beside the wall on the floor, piled high on top of each other, then a desk, a wardrobe, arriving to the bedside table that has a lamp and several strange things - looking like some foreign country's small candies in colourful wrapping - on the wooden surface.

Sitting up fully she tries to move her legs to place them on the floor, but finds that it's much harder than it usually is - than it should be. All her attention turn to her legs now and the weird feeling that surrounds her left leg she hasn't noticed before. Carefully she lifts the covers that wrapped her body in a warm embrace to see what's wrong with her leg. A gasp leaves her lungs right away as her eyes fall on the cast wrapped around it from her knees straight to her toes.

In that exact moment the door slowly opens and her eyes snap towards the entering figure - a flaming red haired young man - whilst her fingers scramble to get the blanket back on her lower body, hiding the lack of clothing she's wearing as she's in nothing else but her underwear.

"Ah, you're awake! How are you?" He asks when his eyes connect with hers and slightly widen.

And his voice brings back everything. Literally everything to her mind about how she got here, all the memories flashing by in front of her inner eyes.

- - - - - - - flashback - - - - - - -

Friday the 13th. The day of misfortune and disasters. (y/n) huffs as she makes her way down the street towards the underground station to go back to her apartment. Now she knows this fact from experience.

She woke up a bit late that morning and didn't have time to drink her usual morning coffee in the comfort of her home, so she had to wait until her first break at work to drink one. When she just finished brewing a cup for herself in the small kitchen at her work, the handle of her favourite mug she kept in there broke and the now handle-less mug full of the brown beverage fell to the ground and shattered to a thousand tiny pieces, and if it wasn't already bad enough, the coffee splashed on her white shirt, colouring it light brown and leaving a wet stain behind all across her chest.

After that she managed to get through the day quite normally, right until 3pm, when her boss called her in to his office.

"The company is facing a hard time," his voice still echoes inside her head, making her shiver in sadness and anger. "I'm sorry, (y/n), the performance you showed us in the past two years was truly great, but you gotta understand that I have to decrease the number of employees. And that unfortunately includes you. I'm sorry."

If the way she worked was actually 'truly great', then why do they fire her and not someone else?

Well, probably her boss told the exact same thing to everyone he kicked out today, she thinks, but it doesn't help at all - it doesn't get her her job back.

So half an hour ago she packed everything in a box and set off to go back home, mentally raging about the cursed day. She has never believed in any superstition like this, but today she's changed her mind. Maybe all these things are true.

And that's when the next string of catastrophies starts.

As she's moving along the pavement next to the tracks at the station, the heel of her shoe breaks and she stumbles, her box flying away from her grip, all the contents of it scattering all over the ground. (y/n) tries gaining her balance back, taking a couple steps back, but the pavement disappears from under her feet as she reaches the edge, completely unaware of it.

She falls back, down to the tracks, and an impossible pain shoots up from her left leg as she lands, the air totally knocked out from her lungs. As she tries catching her breath, her hands move to lay flat on the ground so she can push herself up, but the world around her seems like it's spinning and she feels too weak to move a single muscle in her body.

Everything decelerates into slow motion and she glances around to see what she could do when something bright catch her eyes. A shiny warm yellow circle in the distance, getting slightly bigger and bigger with every second. She observes it carefully, thinking about how pretty it looks as she wonders what it might be. It only takes a second or two for her mind to catch up and suddenly she's more than aware that a train comes towards her and she's not capable to do anything to stop the collision from happening.

Friday the 13th.

Out of nowhere she feels a presence next to her, and just as she turns her head that way to see what's going on and her eyes fall on locks of bright red hair and a freckled face, the man has already grabbed her arm and with a fierce pull hoisted her up to a standing position. It feels like her arm is ripped out from her body, for a moment even the unstoppable hurting from her leg fades out to give space for the one in her upper body and she gasps before everything goes black.

- - - - - - - end of flashback - - - - - - -

The following events go by as a dozen of blurry pictures (y/n) can't make out in her mind and she blinks a couple times to get back to the present, to reality. She focuses on the redhead again, the last person she clearly remembers seeing.

"Where am I?" Her voice comes out hoarse and quiet and she clears her throat, waiting for his answer, knowing how she behaves quite rude completely ignoring his question, but she just can't help it.

She hasn't a clue where they could be, she's never seen a place like this in her entire life. It's obvious it's not a hospital. And after what happened it's just as obvious that she needs hospital treatment.

"The Burrow," he replies with a small smile playing on his lips.

And though she thought his answer would help clear some of the fog inside her head, it only confuses her more. Fred bites back the chuckle that threatens to burst from him seeing her cute frowning expression and waits for her to ask again, knowing it'll soon happen.

"The what?" The girl speaks up again, her voice now much clearer.

"My family home."

The confusion still stays on her face, and Fred truly can't blame her for it - who wouldn't be distraught after waking up in a stranger's home? Still, seeing the same expression he first ever saw on her face brings him back to the Tube station in London.

- - - - - - - Fred's flashback - - - - - - -

He's rushing down the stairs to catch the apparently soon arriving underground train, cursing his twin brother under his breath for winning the bet that resulted in the usage of any and every magical thing being forbidden for Fred for this whole week. Now he has to run errands adjusting to the timetables of muggle public transport and he's running out of time. Everything takes so much more time in the muggle world, and in the past few days he's grown to appreciate being born into the world of magic more than ever.

Arriving next to the tracks he catches sight of a dozen or so people there and relief fills his body. So the train hasn't left yet. He slows down to a walking pace and tries to catch his breath, and that's when he notices something weird about the people, something he has never seen in the past days when he used the Tube. They're all moving closer to each other, slowly making a tight circle, all of them looking in the same direction, as if something was on the tracks.

Curiosity rises in Fred and he makes his way to the edge of the crowd, standing on his toes to tower over it and glance down. His eyes immediately fall on a young woman lying there, one of her legs twisted in an abnormal way. She's looking to the side, towards the tunnel from where the train should arrive any minute now. Her expression displays confusion and slight fear, but her breathtaking beauty is still obvious, and it makes his heart skip a beat. His eyes slowly turn to where she's looking and he can see the light that swiftly grows brighter and brighter inside the usually dark tunnel, but his mind can't comprehend what he sees as all his thoughts are still only about the gorgeous woman lying there.

"The train's coming!" Somebody in the crowd shouts and that's what wakes Fred from his daze. His head snaps back and forth from the tunnel to the girl a couple times, so fast it's a miracle his neck doesn't break.

His body moves before he can fully think about his actions and suddenly he's pushing people away to make a path for himself in the crowd and he jumps down to the tracks. He hears a couple gasps from behind him, even a couple voices trying to inform him again and again that the train is actually soon there, but he doesn't care. All he focuses on is the task in front of him.

Squatting down he grabs one of the woman's arms and drapes it around his shoulder, standing up again as fast as he can, pulling her with him a bit harsher than he intended. She lets out a gasp in obvious pain, but he knows there's no time to be more gentle. Both of his arms move around her, one around her shoulder blades and one around the backs of her thighs to lift her up bridal style as he knows one of her legs is broken and she can't stand on it. And he's thankful for his own speed and thoughtful actions as he feels her body go limp as she faints.

The head-splittingly loud sound of a horn fills the air just as he turns around, signalling that they were noticed by the people on the train. As he takes the first few steps back towards the pavement he glances up, seeing two or three men already there bending down with their arms stretching in his direction. Fred quickens his pace as much as he's able to and practically throws the woman in the waiting hands, helping them pull her up by pushing her body from under, the screeching of brakes, iron on iron being the only sound that can be heard.

He stays on the tracks until he's completely sure that she's safe, than he grabs the edge of the pavement and swiftly pushes himself up, crawling on the cold surface until his legs are lying there as well. He feels a breeze moving against his back as the train arrives to the station, but he doesn't care about it, neither the cheering that erupts from the people around him, celebrating his heroic act, not even the burning feeling in his muscles from being strained. He just pushes himself up and stumbles to the woman, falling back down on his knees to be able to get a better look of her.

From up close he can see how she's even younger than he has thought, probably close to his age. She's obviously falling in and out of unconsciousness every other second. The word 'ambulance' enters his ears from the people around them, and he finds himself with a new task ahead of him. Somehow he has to get the girl away from this place and back to the shop so he can take her to the Burrow. Muggle hospital treatment isn't enough now, the wizarding world offered much better methods of healing. His mother will know what to do.

- - - - - - - end of Fred's flashback - - - - - - -

"And why am I here?" (y/n) continues asking.

"You broke your leg."

"Yeah, I figured, but shouldn't I be in a hospital then?" She tilts her head, raising an eyebrow.

"This is better than a muggle hospital," the young man shrugs.

"Mu... a what?"

"Ah, sorry. Slipped out," he let out a small chuckle, scratching the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.

Here comes the moment he dreaded. When he has to explain the existence of magic and the wizarding world to a completely clueless person and trying to do that without making a complete fool out of himself in front of the angel-like girl when she won't believe him - which he's sure she'll do.

"Wait, who are you? I don't even know your name," she speaks up again. "And how could I truly thank you for saving my life if I don't know even that?"

"There's no need to thank me," Fred protests.

"Of course there is!" (y/n) squeals as loudly as her weakened state allows. "Not everyone would jump down to the tracks when there's a train coming to save a complete stranger."

"Yeah, well, true," he mumbles, thinking back to how nobody did anything for her, anger filling his veins. Then he clears his throat, shaking his head to get rid of the negative thoughts and to focus on the girl again. "I'm Fred. Fred Weasley."

"Thank you for all you did, Fred. I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)," she sticks her hand out and a smile makes it's way to Fred face, matching the one on hers as he steps closer to shake her hand.

- - - - - - - 2 months later - - - - - - -

"I'm absolutely fine, Freddie, stop acting like I'm made of porcelain. I'm totally able to walk down the stairs on my own two feet," (y/n)'s giggling voice fills the air on the second floor of the Burrow when the redhead gently pulled her arm around his neck as he's done so many times in the past weeks.

"Alright, alright, I get it," Fred puts his hands up in surrender, backing away as laughter erupts from his throat and he turns his head away to hide the blush forming on his cheeks from the nickname she used.

Unfortunately he only gets completely face to face with his smirking twin brother who winks his way before pushing past him, a knowing chuckle sounding from him as he rushes downstairs, past (y/n), who follows him right away, only a bit slower, with Fred's careful, watching eyes trained on her back.

"See? I told you," the girl glances back at him over her shoulder after arriving downstairs, not stopping on her way to the dining table, only to stumble in a shoe someone left in the way. Fred immediately reaches out to grab her elbow and stop her from falling. From the strength of his attentive pull on her arm, instead of flying to the ground she crashes into his chest.

"I don't know, I'm not so sure," he teases, looking down with a smirk playing on his lips.

(y/n) moves her head up to connect her eyes with his, and Fred glances around her face, taking in the pink colour of her skin on her cheeks caused by the embarrassment of almost falling, then as his eyes reach the sight of her lips, he suddenly becomes almost too aware of how close the two of them actually are, and the breath hitches in his throat.

"Come on, kids, dinner's gonna get cold!" Molly's voice breaks the moment they shared and (y/n) regains balance, then gently pushing the boy away she turns around and limps the rest of the way to the dining table.

All of the Weasleys are already sitting there, watching the two of them appear in sight, and (y/n) has to bite back a giggle, still not used to the seemingly infinite number of redheads, all smiling wide and sweet at her. George pulls the chair she has always sat on ever since she was able to get downstairs out for her, offering a helping hand knowing that it's harder to sit down with only one properly working leg. Fred reaches out for her other arm just as she makes contact with George's hand, and the two of them don't let go until she's stopped moving.

She glances back and forth between the two boys sitting on either side of her, rolling her eyes at how overly protective both of them behave, when she's already told them hundreds of times that she's able to get by on her own.

The meal is delicious and the company is entertaining, just like it has always been since (y/n) stepped foot into the Burrow. Conversation flows without a hitch, only the occasional laughter breaking it for a second or two, and the (y/h/c) girl finds it hard to think about the inevitable - the moment that's coming fast, the moment when she has to leave these people and go back to her normal life. The Weasleys has become like a second family for her, and she fears that if she walks out that door, she'll never see them again. They're living a different life, in a completely different world. Their paths most likely will never cross again. She tries to brush off the sad thoughts, knowing that she'll have all the time to mope and grieve when she's back in her (ordinary and plain) flat on her own.

As she's helping Molly clean the dishes after the family finishes dinner, (y/n) pauses for a moment to glance at the redhaired woman. "Thank you for letting me stay here and for taking such good care of me."

"Oh, sweetie, you're more than welcome. It's our pleasure to have you here."

"That's true," Ginny chimes in with a joyful grin on her face as she places another dirty plate in front of her mother. "Your presence brightened up our boring lives."

"Boring?" (y/n) lets a loud laugh escape her throat. "Your lives are nothing even close to boring. Everything around here is breathtaking and spectacular."

"Is it though?"

"Try living my life for a week or so, and you'll know what boring really means," she shakes her head, the different memories and thoughts swiftly filling her mind as she turns around to lean the small of her back against the counter top, her eyes instantly connecting with Fred's, who's still sitting at the table, shamelessly watching her with searching eyes.

"I still can't believe there's a whole world of wizards and witches that we have absolutely no clue about. It makes me wonder how many things are there that's hidden from us. And it makes me scared how clueless we all are in the muggle world."

(y/n)'s only able to stand the intensity of his gaze for a couple seconds before she has to turn her head away, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks and heat them up. She swallows, only hoping that it stays unnoticed by the boy, but when she finally dares to glance back for the shortest of moments, she catches sight of a small smirk playing on his lips and she knows that nothing has gone unnoticed by him. Clearing her throat she tries to find something else to say, speaking the first words that come to her mind.

The newly learned word still rolls uncertainly from her tongue, not sure if she says it correctly, but when her restlessly moving eyes accidentally catch Fred's again, she sees a new kind of glint sparkling in his eyes, and it's enough to let her know that she used it correctly.

"It's not your fault," Ginny places a hand probably destined to be reassuring on the older girl's shoulder. "We're just too good at hiding it."

The two of them share a laugh, and unbeknownst to (y/n), it turns the shape of Fred's eyes into something that very much resembles a heart. His own heart flutters at the sound, the temperature of the room suddenly feeling too hot for him to bear, and he abruptly kicks his chair back, standing up and swiftly moving out of the house to get some fresh air and somehow try to cool the fire that's burning inside of his chest.

(y/n)'s eyes follow him, an eyebrow raised in question, deep in her thoughts right until the door closes shut again behind the boy. The sudden noise brings her back to the present and she shakes her head to get rid of the things running around in her head.

"Anyway, I gotta go upstairs and pack. I really have to go back home now," she sighs, pushing her body away from the counter.

"I'll come help you," Ginny immediately offers, hurrying after her.

Two and a half hours and a heart wrenching goodbye later (y/n) and Fred come to a stop outside her apartment's door, both of them feeling a previously never felt sadness fill their hearts.

All (y/n) can think of is flashing images of the flaming red haired boy. The way he sat at the edge of the bed she was lying in, telling her everything about the wizarding world. The way he lifted her up so effortlessly as if she weighed nothing to bring her downstairs when she was unable to walk in the first weeks. The way he walked her around the house and the garden, showing her everything and explaining things to her, adjusting to her extremely slow pace without a word. The way he showed her multiple of the products he and his twin brother sell in their shop, sometimes only speaking of their effects, other times even showing her, not caring with the fact it caused something inconvenient for himself as long as he made her laugh - which she did so many times and so hard that it made her sides hurt. The clothes he let her have when winter set in and her own became too thin to keep her warm, and the way the material smelled like him. The lingering touches of his calloused fingertips against the skin of her cheeks when he thought she was fast asleep - when in fact she was completely awake, fighting back the urge to press her face further into his touch.

In the meantime all Fred can think of is flashing images of the gorgeous muggle girl. The genuine curiosity that sparkled in her eyes whenever he told her about the world he's living in, the endless amount of questions she's asked him about anything and everything, the pure interest she showed from the first time he told her about the existence of magic. The way she bonded with each and every member of the Weasley family, finding a common thing with all of them and eventually making them all grow fond of her. The way she told him all about the muggle world and her own life, sharing all the details with him without hesitation - trusting him right away. The way his name rolled from her tongue - even more when she called him Freddie. The bubbling, loud laughter that erupted from her throat when he told her about the shop and all the pranks George and him did back in Hogwarts or when he showed her the products they now sell in the shop, the laugh that always made his heart skip a beat, the laugh he couldn't help but adore along with the fact that she seemingly didn't care the slightest bit how loud she is or how funny her laughter might sound. The way she looked in his clothes, always taking his breath away, making him wish nothing more in the rest of his life than to see that very sight every day as long as he lived - and possibly even after that.

"Well, thanks for getting me home," (y/n) points at the door behind her back as she looks up into his mesmerizing eyes. "And for jumping down in front of a train for me. And for letting me into your family home. And for taking care of me."

"It was the least I could do," Fred smiles sheepishly, his mind spinning, trying to come up with something to say that would keep the girl in his life.

"Bye, Freddie," she hesitates for a moment, then decides it doesn't matter anymore and leans in, pressing a soft kiss on his left cheek.

Fred's eyes flutter closed, heart bursting with the sudden feeling of love from both her lips touching his skin and the oh so loved nickname. He freezes, unable to think anything else than eight very important letters.

The girl moves back, fiddling with her keys to find the correct one, pushing it in the slot and turning it, gently shoving the door until it's wide open. She steps in, her eyes taking in the furniture and decoration she once loved but now finds unbelievably plain and mundane. A sigh escapes her lungs and she turns around to close the door - and wave once more the boy.

Fred still stands in the exact same spot, obviously not moving even the slightest bit since she backed away from him. (y/n) raises her hand to wiggle goodbye with her fingers at him whilst moving to close the door with the other hand, already feeling the tears blur her vision as she tries to take in the sight of him as best as she can to be able to remember him forever.

"Wait!" Fred exclaims, placing a palm flat against the wooden material to stop it before it fully closes.

This time (y/n)'s the one to freeze, hand pausing high in the air and she even holds back the breath in her lungs as she waits for him to continue.

"Can we meet again?"

Her eyes widen in surprise. She always thought that he'd never want to see her again. That he'd be happy to finally get rid of her and be able to continue his life as before. He wants to meet with her again?

"I... y-yes, of course," she stutters, heart stammering inside her ribcage so wild and loud, she's almost sure he can hear it.

The extremely wide smile that splits his face in two hearing her answer makes it impossible for her not to mirror it, her own lips curving on their own accord. Fred, feeling the previous nervous shyness evaporate from his body and the always present confidence fill his vein up again, takes a step closer to her, then another until he's right beside the door, gently pushing it wider open again. (y/n)'s hand on the door handle inside goes limp, and she lets it fall down to hang loose beside her body as Fred steps inside.

When he's so close that she can feel the breath coming from his nose reach the skin of her face, his lips open again to let out a whisper. "Can I kiss you?"

The already abnormal rhythm her heart beats in gets even more uneven, and her head moves in a nod as she breathes out the word 'yes'. Fred's eyes sparkle up even more, and his hands slowly start moving up, one reaching out to gently caress her cheek whilst the other wraps around the small of her back. Slowly, extremely slowly he leans down, pausing for a second just before their lips could touch, and as a wave of impatience rushes through the girl, she raises her head and presses her lips against his.

Fred lets out a muffled chuckle at her eagerness before tilting his head and snaking his arm further around her torso to pull her flush against his own body, his hand that's resting on her cheeks moving slightly further back until his fingers completely disappear in her (y/h/c) locks, his lips moving passionately against hers.

She completely melts into his touch, feeling like she's floating in the air, as if she's only dreaming. But when they both run out of oxygen and pull away to fill their lungs again, their foreheads pressing against each other in search of support and their eyes connecting without problem, looking deep into his beautiful brown orbs (y/n) grows sure right away that it's truly reality, not just a dream.

"I love you," he breathes in-between his quiet pants, but it's enough to make (y/n) totally dizzy as a love-struck grin spreads across her face.

And in that very moment they both know that their story is just starting.

.::the end::.

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[ladyfawkes]

Eugene Appreciation Week - Day 1 - Childhood | The Trial and Tribulations of Fitzherbert and Schnitz

The Trial and Tribulations of Fitzherbert and Schnitz

Current word count: 3178

Current Rating: T for upcoming chapters

This is my version of that now-infamous RTA lost episode, "The Trial of Fitzherbert and Schnitz". Most of you are aware how I took issue with Disney having used both adoption AND Eugene's having adopted his lifelong persona as Flynn as a 20-minute throwaway plot. I'm gonna try to beef up that premise.

I suppose this is ALSO my way of refuting some of the (very limited) spoilery stuff I've read that's included in the upcoming traditionally published Flynn Rider novel.

My own plot line will be significantly darker than your average Disney plot, though.

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

Chapter 1: Sister Eunice

Several years into the past....

Arnie was skipping down the corridor just past the chapel, minding his own business, when suddenly a loud CRASH!!! sounded from just behind him. He whipped around to see an enormous new hole in a large ornate stained-glass window behind him that was intact just seconds ago.

Thinking one of the rowdier orphans to be at fault, Arnie ran to have a looksee outside. He was shocked to discover nobody except Sister Eunice opposite him next to the stone wall. Surely she couldn’t have been the one to shatter the window??

The young nun noticed him from outside the chapel though and hissed, “Arnie!! Arnie, don’t tell anybody you saw me here! Please. I’m trying to save Eugene!! I’m trying to save you all!! If anybody asks, especially Father Francis, tell them you saw Eugene throw a rock at the window. I can’t explain why, but it’ll help out. A LOT. Can you do that for me, please, Arnie? Would you do this to save your best friend, Eugene?” She was looking at him with frightened eyes, taking surreptitious furtive glances behind her.

Ten-year-old Arnie had stared back, wide-eyed, and had only barely begun to nod when Sis Eunice turned back, ran around the corner of the chapel toward Arnie’s right, and disappeared. Young Arnie was left standing there, mouth agape, wondering why on earth a nun - a nun!!! - would throw a heavy rock through a church-owned stained glass window. And especially a window that the children were told was hundreds of years old!

Not long after that, to his left, Arnie saw someone else outside out of the corner of his eye. The young boy instinctively hid behind the full partition of the wall where the stained glass window ended. It was Fr Francis, the priest for the local parish, walking at a brisk pace. And Arnie could’ve sworn the scary priest might be tracking Sis Eunice. Arnie and Eugene hadn’t ever been particularly fond of Francis. In fact, they went out of their way to avoid the older dour-faced man.

Although Fr. Francis was currently looking at the hole in the window from a ways off, he couldn’t see where Arnie was from his vantage point. Arnie slinked away to go find Eugene.

Turned out he bumped into Eugene almost immediately since Eugene had been in the chapel, waiting to meet up with Lord and Lady Boskin. Arnie stopped in his tracks at the sight of his friend, all freshly bathed, his hair combed, and so unexpectedly dressed in a new blue velvet skeleton suit, white stockings, silk shirt, and leather shoes. It was the latest modern fashion that all the rich boys were wearing in Vardaros. He knew that because Eugene told him every time they were fortunate enough to go to town with one of the sisters. Arnie would have to pry Eugene away from the shop window where Eugene’s face would sometimes get so close to the display that his nose print would remain on the glass. Arnie didn’t understand why Eugene cared about stuff like that. Fashion and velvet and lace. Orphans weren’t supposed to care. Food was more important anyway.

“I heard a terrible crash and came to investigate!” Eugene said breathlessly.

All thought of the broken window had flown from Arnie’s mind at the sight of his transformed best friend and he demanded, “What’re you wearing alla that for??”

Suddenly self-conscious, Eugene crammed his hands in his new pockets, stared at the floor, scuffed the sole of his new shoe against the mosaic tile and mumbled, “Fr Francis took me aside after breakfast to the rectory and said that Lord and Lady Boskin have chosen to adopt…..me.” He said it with the same amount of awe he felt when he first saw the suit in its parcel.

“....and….and you didn’t think to tell me any sooner? You were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” accused Arnie, his eyes filling with tears. Eugene could see his pouting lips tremble from several yards away. “But...but I didn’t know either…!” protested Eugene, now fighting tears himself, before he was abruptly cut off.

As Arnie stood there simultaneously hating and envying Eugene, a whole crowd of people had arrived from both sides of the corridor, to all of the ensuing hullabaloo of the shattered window. Unfortunately, it was just in time to see these two boys standing by themselves right near the new gaping hole in the priceless stained glass window.

Fr Francis had reappeared inside followed by the Mthr Superior, Sis Eunice, several dozen children, and a few other nuns. Everyone was chattering and buzzing and arguing about which of the two boys had broken the window -- Arnie or Eugene. Perhaps both? Immediately they both protested their innocence and the bored aggressive older boys used the moment as an excuse to break out into a fight…

Two brawny red-headed boys quickly left the mob only to have one boy each bowl right into Eugene and Arnie. All four boys toppled over to the floor.

All of the other children started shouting, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” and just before the redheads could land their first actual punches, Fr Francis easily intervened by grabbing both of their pulled-back fists, squeezing them, and ordering the boys to get up off their intended victims and up off the floor. They reluctantly complied. Then Francis ordered Arnie and Eugene off the floor and to follow him to his office.

As Eugene looked down in dismay at the visible dirt on his beautiful new suit, Sis Eunice surreptitiously put a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, in a voice so softly only he could hear, “Don’t worry -- these are play clothes. More than capable of taking a few layers of dirt from rambunctious young boys.” She always had a way to help him feel better….but this time, since he was effectively being frog-marched to the priest’s office over something he didn’t do, the good feeling didn’t last nearly long enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))((0))((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Hours Earlier…..

Eugene had been called to the rectory by Fr. Francis immediately following breakfast. Without any prior notice whatsoever, he informed Eugene that Lord and Lady Boskin had actually chosen to adopt him!!!

Young Eugene couldn’t believe his luck! He wondered why he’d been chosen. What had the wealthy young couple seen in him? Even though he’d only been formally introduced once or twice, and had spoken only a few sentences to them, they chose him. And he supposed they seemed nice enough.

Eugene and most of the orphans had already seen the younger couple several times. He learned from the nuns over the past couple of years that the pair were evidently unable to have children of their own and as such, had been growing their own family a different way. Twice per year for the past two years, they had chosen a new child from amongst the orphans at this orphanage. Prior to their more formal choosing-times for each child, they would come to the orphanage for several trips and take turns meeting and chatting with the children. Yet this time, they had actually chosen Eugene.

Sis. Eunice had entered the rectory right behind Fr Francis and his announcement; the latter then vacated the building. Sis Eunice had taken Eugene by the hand and led him to the home’s water closet. And already waiting for him was a fresh bath -- mid-week, even! He was accustomed to every Saturday at most. For the first time in his life, Eugene was treated to his very own bath where the water was actually extra warm and didn’t contain the sloughed-off post-bathing scoodge from a zillion other children lurking in the bottom.

Eugene had seen the nuns sniffle and get misty-eyed plenty of times when other children had been adopted. But their crying was always rather delicate and they always tried to smile through it. However, as Sis Eunice helped him to properly wash his fingers, toes, and ears during what Eugene thought of as his luxurious bath, Sis Eunice also kept repeatedly bursting into tears. And apologizing for it. She seemed genuinely….worried.

The nuns weren’t supposed to have favorites but Eugene knew Sis Eunice was easily the most fond of him. She had arrived at the orphanage during the height of a disease outbreak which had very nearly claimed little Eugene’s life. And it would have done so too, if it weren’t for Sis Eunice’s dogged persistence. They had originally bonded over their funny-sounding first names. She’d turned her own name into a joke to try and give him a reason to smile….and it worked. Most if not all of the other nuns were quite hands-off but Sis Eunice believed in healing touch. As Eugene’s stricken body fought the virulent infection, the Sister held him, rocked him, and sang to him. After that, she promised to come back to the room that housed the most ill children and read aloud a story once she finished her rounds. She had sat closest to little Eugene as she read aloud “Flynnigan Rider and the Pirates of Penzance” for the very first time. It was the first time Eugene had become familiar with the novels.

And though Eugene hadn’t really noticed before (nun’s habits often made it difficult to tell who was older than whom) right now, after he learned he would soon be leaving the orphanage forever that day, it was almost as if Eugene were seeing Sis Eunice for the first time. And for the first time, he noticed how young she truly was. She had a spray of freckles across her face and a little space between her front teeth. A halo of strawberry blonde curls framed her face and perpetually worked their way out of her wimpole. It’s possible Sis Eunice was even younger than Lady Boskin.

He couldn’t help but notice as she had him put on a clean slick-feeling shirt -- a brand-new one, just for him!! -- yet that was only the beginning. Apparently with each chosen child, the adoptive couple provided a freshly purchased outfit from the shops in town. Even Sis Eunice couldn’t help but smile this time as she presented Eugene’s new clothes to him. She asked him to tug open the string holding the paper parcel together. He stared at the parcel, eyes darting between the string and the Sister’s face. “Another present?” he whispered in awe. “For me?” Inside lay a brand new velvet suit. “It’s my favorite color!” he squeaked in delight. “Cornflower blue!” And Sis. Eunice nodded with the same huge smile on her face as him. “Shall I?” she asked softly, reaching into the parcel so he could see the whole suit. Eugene was utterly thunderstruck now. He stared wide-eyed at this beautiful boughten suit which was already quite familiar to him.

“But this is the same…..” he trailed off as Sis Eunice finished for him, “It’s the same suit you’ve had your eye on all year in that shop window?” Mouth agape, Eugene nodded slowly, clearly still in shock.

Eugene recalled how Sis Eunice had begun reading the Flynnigan Rider story with a splash, quite literally, and encompassed the first three chapters. The very first words of the book started with Flynnigan Rider on the mains’l full on the mast of a tall ship, shouting, “As long as I possess air in my lungs, I shall never surrender!!” And right before an enemy bullet could pierce him, Rider had sprinted and dove off the end of the mains’l to plunge down into the sea below. Sis Eunice had taken a fresh mildly damp cloth and spun it above her head, so everyone could feel the ‘splash’. That’s all it took for her to hook every single one of her charges. Sis Eunice had read aloud in every voice. Acted out each scene. She had as many props as feasible. And at the end of chapter 3 that first night, she closed the book amidst many “awwws”, protests, and left the children clamoring for more and some even wanting to help star in the show. Six-year-old Eugene had finally found the strength to speak for the first time in days and tugged Sis Eunice’s robes. “Tomorrow? Please?” he whispered breathlessly. The Sister knelt down close by his ear and pushed his hair away from his fevered brow. “I’ll tell you what,” she said softly. “If you think you can stick around for me by this time tomorrow morning, I promise to come back and read for you. Deal?”

And she turned to the rest of the room, “Tonight’s life lesson from Flynnigan is to hold air in those lungs -- by breathing deeply -- so that you can keep fighting.” Eager to prove to Sis Eunice that he could be brave like Flynnigan Rider, he concentrated on breathing as deeply as he could. Though it was by far the most difficult and painful thing he’d ever done in his young life, he followed through with it nonetheless. And Sis Eunice had returned each morning and night, as promised, to divulge more of Flynnigan’s adventures and life lessons. By the time he was well enough about a week later, she’d ask for Eugene to actually promise to wait for her the next night and bit by bit, little Eugene had found the strength to come back from the brink. And it was all because of one (or was it two?) very special people -- Sis Eunice and Flynnigan Rider.

“Shall we dress you smartly then? It’s not proper for a young man of your new status to be prancing around, half-dressed, you know,” Sis Eunice teased, bringing Eugene back to the present. Usually he’d act silly in return but right now….as soon as he had the new trousers on….Eugene was overcome and couldn’t help but throw his arms around the Sister’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, “so much.” It was the nicest clothing -- the nicest anything -- that anyone had ever given him. And Sis Eunice thought he was misinterpreting who’d provided for him this suit but he wasn’t. “I know it wasn’t your money,” as Eugene was well aware that the nuns scarcely had more than the orphans due in large part to their vows of charity and poverty. And yet he replied, still embracing her, “But I just know that you had something to do with it somehow, Sis Eunice.”

She briefly taught him the tricks with helping Eugene learn how to dress himself up in the fancy new suit. It had a lot of buttons. Big shiny brass ones. She was insistent that none of her charges was going to be reliant on servants to dress them, even after they left the orphanage. Once Eugene was fully dressed in his new comfortably-tailored playsuit, Sis Eunice also presented to him new stockings and new mahogany leather shoes.

Sis Eunice looked adoringly...and then somberly at Eugene as the thunderstruck little boy could not stop studying his own reflection in a full-length mirror.

Though most boys hated baths, he actually liked them (especially when they were warm with fresh water) almost as much as he liked playing in the dirt. He wondered if he’d have his own bed at his new home. He wondered if he’d get to have a mattress, bedclothes, and a pillow every night.

“Well, I suppose it’s time,” said Sis Eunice with a watery smile. The pair of them began to head over to the parish chapel just off the orphanage and across the compound from the rectory. Halfway through the walk, Sis Eunice asked him to continue onto the chapel and said that she’d meet up with him again in a very short few moments. And that was apparently where he was supposed to meet up with Lord and Lady Boskin to sign the final papers and officially become their latest son for real. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

After his arrival in the chapel, and within 3 minutes, he heard a very loud crash outside in the corridor to the right of his vantage point near the front of the chapel. He thought maybe he should stay put just in case, but his curiosity got the best of him and he went to investigate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in the Office of the Clergy….

Arnie had been called into the clergy office with Fr Francis, Mthr Superior, and Sis Eunice. Eugene had been left outside to stew and fret by himself.

“So you witnessed Eugene Fitzherbert throw a rock at the stained glass?” said Fr Francis imperiously. Arnie’s wide frightened eyes kept darting back and forth between Fr Francis’s unpleasant features and Sis Eunice’s equally terrified eyes. She nodded imperceptibly to encourage Arnie to say yes. Arnie didn’t want to lie but he didn’t want to be the one who got in trouble either. Not to mention….it utterly broke his heart that Eugene was getting adopted and that he wasn’t even gonna say goodbye to Arnie. Thus Arnie looked to the floor and nodded downward at it half-heartedly.

Eugene was brought into the office and not even given a chance to defend nor explain himself.

“Naughty misbehaving boys who destroy priceless works of church art don’t deserve to get adopted,” Fr Francis began imperiously. “Remove that clothing at once. It’s no longer yours and you are no longer fit to wear it.” Poor Eugene recoiled in shock and horror and Sis Eunice stepped in to try and intervene. She shared scared looks with Arnie, even more frightened than before. “There’s no need for that, he hasn’t physically harmed anybody,” Sis Eunice reasoned, “there’s no reason to treat him like he’s a criminal. He just had an accident, that's all.”

Eugene kept backing further and further away, “Not adopted??” was all he could manage to say. “That’s precisely it,” Fr Francis replied coldly. “I’ll tell Lord and Lady Boskin not to follow through with the paperwork because misbehaving children are evil children, and they shan’t have evil brought into their perfect home. Now give back that clothing or I shall turn you in for theft of property.” Sis Eunice’s hands flew to her mouth in open dismay. Arnie had correctly deduced that this was definitely not a development she had anticipated. Now the Mthr Superior and other church lackeys outside the door had begun to put their hands on Eugene in effort to take back his new boughten clothes.

Clearly, not knowing what else to do, Sis Eunice pressed her advantage, knelt down by Eugene's ear, and said, “You must run, Eugene!! Stay as far away from here as you can! Make certain they can’t ever catch you. I’ll take care of the rest.” His eyes bugged out and still he hesitated before Sis Eunice hissed, “GO! NOW!”

Eugene spun on the heel of his new shoe, managed to just barely pull away from the sea of grabbing hands, and sprinted out into the great beyond. P.S. Yes, I have every intention of continuing this. And hopefully even seeing it to completion, like a real "episode", even though the timelapse will be more like a full hour as opposed to 22 minutes? In fact, I've already written a bit more beyond it. I just have to write other things for the time being.....

@gleamful-lanterns @kingreywrites @autumn-ravenclaw

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, and thanks for sticking with this. It’s quite fun to write for this ship, and I hope you’re all ready for homoerotic exercise and another argument between men who don’t know how to communicate :)

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Three - Proving a Point

Day Two: Tuesday

Gajeel woke in a pissy mood. This wasn't going like it was supposed to.

Freed was meant to be a smug, self important man with no practical skills, no world-hardened experiences, and no way of keeping up with what Gajeel was demanding of him. His three day plan had focused around humbling Freed, telling him that he wasn't hot-shit like he clearly thought, and making him realise that his cushioned life didn't mean he was Gajeel's equal.

What was not meant to happen was for Freed to be competent! He wasn't meant to make a shelter, he wasn't meant to be able to make a fire without a match, and he wasn't meant to be able to cook the damn fish and make them taste good! Even Gajeel couldn't do that.

Worse, the fucker knew. Oh he knew what Gajeel wanted but wasn't getting.

He hadn't been so smug when he'd lost though, had he? He hasn't been running his mouth when he'd been in the stream, gurgling his pathetic little surrender. Nah, he'd looked exactly how Gajeel wanted him; weak, embarrassed and unable to deal with the fact he was out of his league.

Sure, it hadn't taken long for Freed to recover and spout some bullshit about Gajeel being intimidated by his magic, or whatever the hell it was he said. He was trying to save face and Gajeel wouldn't let him; he had lost their fight because he couldn't live without his spells. That was impractical, short sighted and the way a spoiled brat of a man worked. No doubt if he had to rely on his fists more, he would have seen the stream as something to take advantage of and used it, rather than falling into Gajeel's trap.

Hah. At least one thing had gone Gajeel's way.

Mostly.

Kind of.

Look, Gajeel might hate the man and the things he seemed to stand for, but Freed wasn't bad looking. And Gajeel was just a man, who had been stripped to the waist with Freed in the same state of undress, wrestling one another. He was bound to get distracted for a moment. Thankfully, Freed's nasty kick to the balls and the ensuing tantrum after had quickly quelled any growing interest.

Gajeel knew what he had to do today, though. Because if he was going to fight with Freed at the end of the week, he needed to respect the man. He wasn't going to respect Freed if he couldn't take a defeat, and if he couldn't handle himself without his magic. So today, Freed was going to prove he had the ability to back up his words.

Okay, it was a tenuous reason for what he had planned, but fuck it. Fuck Freed too.

It was tempting to wake the prick up by dumping some of the water Gajeel had gathered over his sleeping face - a nice little reminder of how the fight had ended - but he decided against it. He needed to have everything prepared before he woke up, so it would be better to check that everything was in place. That, and Freed apparently snored a little when he was sleeping, and Gajeel certainly didn't want to interrupt the possible blackmail that could come from it.

And perhaps it was nice to have something cut through the silence of the forest.

Gajeel had trained in this forest many times, and as such had come to know how to utilise it's assets. He wandered slowly, blinking away the sleep in his eyes, and eventually found what he was looking for. A large tree that had fallen down years ago, and stumbled down a hill. What remained was a leafless trunk at the bottom of a steep incline, perfect for strength training.

Next, he walked to the largest upstanding tree within reasonable walking distance. Gajeel had often climbed this tree to push his agility and upper body strength, and it was the perfect way to test Freed's practical skills. The tree was still standing tall, the branches Gajeel used to climb still attached. Perfect, no excuses for when Freed fucked up.

When he got to the lake, Gajeel grinned a little. The morning was cold and the water would be freezing, the worst temperature to take a swim in. Normally Gajeel would have hated to swim in weather like this, but it would certainly be a nice wake-up call for the spoiled little Prince.

Yeah, this was gonna be fun. For Gajeel anyway.

——

"I think yesterday proved pretty damp conclusively that you're out of luck if you don't have your magic," Gajeel said with crossed arms, looking down at Freed. "So, today I'm gonna teach you a couple techniques that'll come in handy when you're in a situation where you can't spell yourself out of trouble."

Freed clearly wanted to make a comment, but held his tongue. He was learning, huh.

When Gajeel had returned from his check of the forest, Freed had woken up, set up a new fire and was using the rest of the fish (and a few berries that he had picked) to make them both a breakfast. Gajeel had wanted to reject it out of hand, but it had smelt great and if it was anywhere near as good as his meal the day before, refusing it would be a mistake. It had tasted amazing, so Gajeel had huffed out a thanks and gave a short nod of thanks.

Soon after that, Gajeel had motioned for Freed to follow him. Freed had done so without complaint - Gajeel couldn't prove it, but liked to think it was because the asshole was too embarrassed after his loss - and allowed himself to be led down the stream, towards the lake.

"You've got wings right, when you use yer magic?" Gajeel asked. "So yer probably gonna use 'em to get over every little thing, right?"

"Like you do with your little cat friend, I expect," Freed commented, and Gajeel stiffened slightly. Freed noticed and smirked a little. "My apologies, I interrupted you. Please, go on."

"Don't need yer permission," Gajeel grunted, more to himself than to the man standing before him. "But if yer using yer wings as much as I think you are, you ain't ready to deal with terrain that ain't easy to walk through. So, if this week's about improving then this is gonna help you get over that flaw. We run from here towards the lake, taking us through forested ground which ain't even and ain't safe, and then we swim from one side of the lake to the other."

"So it's a race then?" Freed asked, annoyingly not intimidated by the proposition.

"If you want," Gajeel shrugged. "But I ain't got a prize or anythin'. Definitely not one for participation, like yer probably used to."

Freed rolled his eyes at that, but didn't ride to the bait. Instead, he said, "Perhaps when I win, you'll cook for once."

"You ain't gonna win," Gajeel claimed.

"We'll see," Freed hummed a little, far too smug for his own good.

"Stretch up," Gajeel muttered, even though he wanted to push the man further, maybe even see if he could add an actual forfeit for losing, something to really make the fucker squirm. But, well, Gajeel didn't know for sure he would win, so couldn't risk things just in case.

Just as Gajeel went to start stretching his calves, he heard the sound of ruffling fabric and frowned. He ignored it for a moment as he felt the gentle burn of his muscles working, but caught sight of Freed's white - now dirt stained and crumpled - shirt now hanging over the branch of a nearby tree. With slightly furrowed brows, he turned towards Freed to demand an explanation, only to see him kicking off his pants and placing them right next to his shirt, leaving him only in his boxer-briefs. His tight and eye-catching boxer-briefs.

Before the thoughts could even form about how Freed was wearing his underwear to perfection, Gajeel forced his memory back to the night before. About how he'd acted and how he had tried to make Gajeel feel like crap just to feed his own ego.

Freed had lost a wrestling match, and had thrown a fit about it. Gajeel couldn't respect a man like that, and he couldn't find a guy hot if he didn't respect him.

"The hell are you doing?" Gajeel demanded.

"If we're going to swim, then I'd rather not get my only set of clothes wet when it could be avoided," Freed explained, and Gajeel was momentarily thankful that he didn't look ready to remove his boxers. He couldn't think like that, so spoke again.

"Cause you can't stand a bit of discomfort, right?" Gajeel grumbled.

"No, I just don't see the point of making things worse for myself to prove a point," Freed looked pointedly towards Gajeel when he said that. "The water is clearly going to be cold and the weather doesn't look like it'll improve, meaning it'll be a struggle to dry ourselves already. The fire can only do so much, and we'll either have to lounge around in wet clothes out of stubbornness, or remove them and wait for them to dry while we ourselves get dry. That extends the time we'll be cold, making us both uncomfortable and wasting time before whatever inane task you've got next. That, coupled with the fact that this is flu season, seems like good enough justification for avoiding a stupid problem."

Gajeel could hardly argue the point, so instead he mumbled, "We ain't gonna be lounging around."

"What an astute and well thought out argument," Freed deadpanned, and Gajeel wanted to punch him again. He didn't, instead averting his eyes as Freed started to stretch his arms. "Nobody is forcing you to do the same if you're shy, Mister Redbox. To me it just feels like the reasonable course of actions."

Rather than speaking, Gajeel turned his back. He also removed his shirt and boots; but he wasn't getting half naked like the pervert next to him.

Calling him a pervert was maybe a stretch.

He pushed back that thought, as well as the thoughts of how damn good Freed's ass looked in those boxers - Gajeel was only a man, and he couldn't deny what he saw - and instead got himself into line with Freed. The race is what he should have been focusing on, not the fact that Freed didn't look half bad when he was taken away from his pampered and luxurious sheen. Tangled hair and the odd spec of dirt really did wonders for the pretty-boy.

The race. Focus on the race. And the fact the guy couldn't deal with a loss.

"Ready?" Gajeel asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Go."

He lurched forward before he could think, sprinting through the undergrowth of the the forest as he ran towards the lake. Years of guild work in places like this had allowed for the perfection of running through the forest; you kept alternating your gaze between the ground and on the trees.

Usually he would have turned his skin to iron so he wouldn't have to focus on the branches in his way, but he was trying to prove a point. He winced a little as a sharp end to a twig scraped against his cheek, far too close to his eye, but didn't let it stop his pace. He could hear Freed's breathing very close behind him, so evidently Freed knew how to run through a forest as well as Gajeel did, so he couldn't let up for a moment.

When they were out of the forest, there was a short run towards the lake with more space than there had been in the forest. Gajeel forced himself to run as fast as he could, not wanting to let Freed overtake him now he had the width to do so. And not having a view of the man's body might-

The race. The way he'd acted the night before. Focus dammit!

If telling himself wasn't enough to cut off his libido, the face first plunge into freezing, dirty water certainly did. He let out a shuddering gasp when his head broke the surface, but couldn't allow the ice-cold water to stop him. He quickly started to swim, smirking a little when he realised he still had the lead.

The smirk died when Freed overtook him pretty damn quickly.

Gajeel saw nothing but ripples of water ahead of him, and gritted his teeth as he tried to speed up. He was a man built to brute force his way through a problem, while Freed was apparently more agile. He should have expected that, but he had wanted to leave Freed in the dust during the run so it wouldn't be an issue.

All he could do now was swim to the other shore of the lake, pissed off.

When he reached the end of the lake, he saw Freed resting on one of the large boulders that made up the shoreline. He was panting, soaking wet and still wearing those fuckimg boxers. When he saw Gajeel haul himself up from the water, he looked towards him and smirked.

"That didn't end up how you wanted, did it?"

"Shut up," Gajeel snarled. "Get yer clothes, we've got a busy day."

When Freed laughed, Gajeel nearly pushed him into the lake again.

——

"So, you think ya can beat that?"

Gajeel had more than got his confidence back now, and he was smirking at Freed with his arms flexed intentionally.

Both he and Freed were stood at the bottom of a steep hill, where the dead tree-truck sat. Gajeel had explained this challenge; they would both have to push the tree-truck up the hill as far as they could. The justification for this exercise was that Freed might one day find himself in a situation where he was trapped without his magic and needed to force his way out with his strength alone, and the exercise was meant to simulate that. Freed clearly saw that Gajeel just wanted to push his limits, but he didn't say anything.

This was the last task of the day. They'd already attempted the tree climbing that Gajeel had planned, and Freed had been obnoxiously good at it. Gajeel had been faster, but they both knew that he had a natural advantage because he'd had practice. Gajeel could hardly boast about being slightly better then Freed at something he had done many times and Freed was new to.

Gajeel had just finished his attempt at pushing the trunk, and was fucking delighted when he saw he'd beaten his own personal record. This was how he would regain his control over things.

Freed didn't stand a chance.

"I'm sure I'll be a worthy contender," Freed stated, walking towards the tree-trunk. "Which is a feat, I expect, given that you've clearly been setting me up for failure from the beginning."

"Maybe if you weren't so predictable then I wouldn't have been able to plan things out so well," Gajeel grunted.

"So you predicted that, in everything other than tasks that relied solely on physical strength, I have exceeded your expectations and beaten you in completion, I suppose?" Freed taunted quietly as he positioned himself against the tree-trunk. "I expect you did all of this simply to prove your inferiority."

"Inferiority?" Gajeel scoffed. "You ain't done anything but bitch about this because it's not going yer way."

"Not going my way?" Freed laughed, turning from the log and looking at Gajeel again. "You are joking, aren't you?"

"All you've done is make yer little comments about how you don't think it's fair," Gajeel challenged, taking a step forward and glaring the other man down. "And when ya lose, you throw a tantrum."

"I throw tantrums," Freed demanded, sounding equal parts exasperated and annoyed. "As opposed to you, who has been acting perfectly rational throughout this? It hasn't escaped my attention that you clearly see Makarov's initiative as some sort of personal affront to you, and you have apparently seen it fair to force all of these grievances onto me. So for you, a man who has been as close to stomping his feet and wailing as his pride allows, to complain about me throwing a tantrum is practically laughable."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Gajeel took another step forward. "I'm doing this because yer clearly a spoiled little city-boy and I ain't associating myself with something who can't-"

"Can't what?" Freed snapped. "Can't make a shelter? Can't start a fire? Can't swim across a lake faster than you? Because I've done all of this despite your clear hopes otherwise. Or would you rather judge my worth as a mage by seeing me push a dead tree up a hillside, or to wrestle you without the weapon I use nor the magic I wield? Because, Mr Redfox, if you need to force such strict parameters to best me and you consistently lose, then perhaps your plan isn't a good one."

Fuck, he wanted to punch the guy. Fully encase his fists in iron and beat the shit out of the guy. It would be damn satisfying to see the guy knocked out, while the smugness straight out of him.

"Nothing to say?" Freed continued, a patronising look on his face.

"Fuck off," Gajeel growler, turning around and going to walk away. Before he could take a step, a wall of glowing runes shot up in front of him, blocking his exit. He turned to Freed with an expression of fury. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You," Freed snapped, and magic seemed to emanate from him.

He looked feral in that moment, with all the shields of fancy clothes and smart ass words replaced by anger and magic. His shirt was billowing in the magic induced winds, and the glare on his face was accentuated by the purple swirling in his eye. Fuck, he looked like a man on the edge and it shot straight to Gajeel's dick. Freed was a gentleman gone wild, and if that wasn't one of Gajeel's most well-buried fantasies then he didn't know what was.

The expression was gone as quickly as it came, and the magic swarming Freed's eye fell away. For a moment, Freed looked worried, but he was talking again before Gajeel could understand why he looked like that.

"Neither of us are happy about this, but at the end of the week we have to fight side by side, and the biggest issue we have right now is that we can't stand one another," Freed seemed more calm now, as if the bubble of anger had burst. What the hell had caused that? "So, either you plan something that might make us work together, or at least respect one another, or we both stop trying and say to hell with the consequences."

Gajeel didn't say anything. It felt like the rug had been pulled from under him.

Suddenly, a wave of shitty realisation hit him. Freed had a point when he said he was taking his anger out on him, when he really just didn't want to do the damn training thing at all. He wasn't being fair.

"I think that's enough," Freed sighed. "I'll gather my things and go home. You needn't contact me again."

Freed was walking away before Gajeel could react, and the walls of runes fell around them both. A horrid feeling of regret filled Gajeel, and he quickly jogged to catch up with Freed, who was clearly ignoring him. He kinda deserved it.

"Shit, Freed, wait," He placed a hand on the man's chest, and Freed glared at him. "Yer right, I ain't been fair," It wasn't a fun thing to admit. "I had some ideas about who you were, and didn't wanna let ya prove me wrong, even when you were kicking my ass," He sighed. "And yer right about me wanting to fuck you over, that's why I did this shit, and it wasn't right. That was shitty of me."

"Well, I can hardly blame you for judging me. We were both guilty of that," Freed admitted. "And thank you for admitting that. But I don't see how we could suddenly become a cohesive, effective team, we're hardly compatible."

Gajeel sighed, Freed had a point.

But if a Fairy Tail mage was good at anything, they were good at being stubborn.

"What if we have a fight?" Gajeel proposed, and Freed frowned at him. "Talking like this ain't gonna get rid of the attitude we have for each other, right? You're still pissed at me, and you said some things that made me wanna sock a punch in yer jaw. Maybe having the chance to beat the shit outta each other might break through the attitude problems we have."

"That's not too bad an idea," Freed admitted, glancing at the evening sky for a moment. "It would be cathartic to make you scream."

"Buy me dinner first, city-boy," Gajeel teased before he could think. Freed all but gaped at him, and Gajeel was speaking to fill the silence before he could stop himself. "Y'know, I ain't ever seen you fight before. Don't know how you work."

"Then I have the advantage," Freed grinned slightly. "And you're voluntarily giving it to me. Perhaps you really are repentant."

"Nah, just wanna kick yer ass without you having an excuse."

"We'll see," Freed smirked, and Gajeel found himself grinning back.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~82

~*~Emma~*~

I awoke to see Sebastian laying on his side, leaning onto his elbow, with his head propped up on his hand. Diffuse sunlight filled the room and clearly showed me his face. He didn’t look sleepy. His face was relaxed with the slightest smile. Who knows how long he'd been watching me sleep. That thought made me smile.

He jerked his head up a little, "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I like seeing you when I wake up and knowing you'll be the last person I see before I fall asleep. And I'm excited about everything in between."

"The Louvre, dinner on the Seine, cabaret. Fun day."

I shook my head with a frown, "No, not what we're doing. I'm excited to spend the day with you." Sebastian closed his eyes, smiled a little wider, and took a few breaths. I knew what he was doing. He was taking in my words, feeling them, believing them. Before he opened his eyes, I moved closer to kiss him. "Je t'aime."

"I know that one." His fingers ran through my hair, smoothing the morning disarray. "In how many languages can you tell me you love me?"

I gasped and held my mouth open, "Just three, but now I have a goal."

"Crazy girlfriend."

I rolled on top of him, "Just about you." I did exactly what you’re supposed to do when you're naked in bed laying on top of a naked man.

I tickled him.

Our tickle fight lasted until we were laughing so hard it was hard to breathe. That and when Sebastian pinned my hands to the bed. "Je veux te faire l 'amour." He kissed me and pressed his erection closer between my legs. "I have a good memory too."

I don't know how it gets better than this. Waking up in Paris, with a gorgeous man watching me sleep, making love, then sitting on the terrace in big fluffy robes having coffee and croissants.

The guide at The Louvre was knowledgeable but a little stuffy. We spent much of the tour hanging back with another couple laughing inappropriately. The museum was incredible and we stayed around after the tour to revisit areas and check out some places not included. Sebastian liked items where I was mesmerized by the vibrant colors of the paintings. Lunch today would become our go-to. Pick up something near to and find a spot to sit in the park. Food and people watching was always a good time.

We headed back to the hotel to fool around before dressing for dinner. On the boat, we were seated by the window. We headed to the upper deck with a glass of wine for sunset. Last night's sunset view was unforgettable for many reasons. Tonight's was more beautiful with the lights of the city and bridges. It was romantic in a more refined way. Last night was casual clothes sneaking kisses in the dark. Tonight was dressed up, high heels, and elegant stemware. Kisses weren't as sneaky in the wide open space. The food was delicious. We started with duck foie gras and Scottish salmon. My main was scallops with sweet potato risotto and seaweed cream. Sebastian promised to save me from the seaweed if it triggered me. He went for a filet of beef, pea pudding, and veal gravy. The aroma from the fresh bread with the cheese course was mouth watering. Sebastian enjoyed my excitement and took more pictures of me eating cheese than anything else except drinking wine. For dessert, we decided one decadent and one fresh. A white chocolate raspberry lychee sphere and lemon basil tart. I nearly had to stab Sebastian with a fork for hogging all the sphere. The return trip was dark. Only the lights of the city and running lights illuminated to boat.

The night included a visit to a cabaret. That the Moulin Rouge was more touristy led us to the Crazy Horse. Still famous, but not the most sought after. We'd been told the Moulin Rouge was over the top and Crazy Horse more subtle. That may be true, but one important detail was left out. The dancers at the Crazy Horse were often naked. Sexy dance numbers, visual effects, and vibrant light shows. At times the lights were the only clothes. Darkness was used strategically as was glow in the dark body paint. What I noticed was all the women were in Louboutin, which lead me to believe the lingerie was expensive as well. There was a part with a very good looking man stripping. It was more funny than sexy. The combination of erotic dance and risqué humor kept both of us entertained

We talked about our favorite parts on the ride back to the hotel. Sebastian opened the door, letting me walk by into the hotel, "Is it wrong that I asked where the lingerie was from?"

"I wondered, but didn't think to ask. I loved the black bodysuit with all the straps."

"So did I."

Imagine my shocked face. You'd have to imagine because I wasn’t making that face. I waited until we were in the room to ask, "Did you find out where this shop is?"

He pulled his phone out and went to maps. A slow smile formed, "About two blocks. Across from Dior."

I folded my legs under me and sat on the couch. "Fun."

He sat next to me. He was fiddling with the bottom hem of his shirt. He was nervous. "Are you running up a crazy credit card bill to amuse me?"

What a sweety. My recent shopping habits didn’t match my teacher salary. I guess we were going to have this conversation. "My grandfather has it set up where his stock dividends are split between the grandchildren. It's paid out quarterly and there's no way to know how much, so I've never factored it into my budget. It goes into a savings account. I have a rule that it's only for fun. I took Angie and Eli with me to Hawaii. After a horrible start to the year, Malory and I went to Key West." I grimaced, "I don't remember much of that trip. And if I want to go shopping I can. I do appreciate your concern." I leaned over and kissed him. "There is a trust fund, but I can't touch that until I'm thirty. That's partly why it was important to go off on my own. I grew up with money, so when Jimmy said I couldn't take care of myself I needed to prove it to myself, even though I know it wasn’t completely on my own."

Sebastian interrupted, "Don't diminish what you’ve done. You started over in a new place where you knew no one or even where to grocery shop. You've got a Master's and accepted into a Doctoral program. Anyone who thinks you can't take care of yourself is wrong."

This fierce defense was very attractive. Money can be embarrassing. I realize I'm privileged, and I try not to behave like a trust fund baby. I would never go shopping as I had with anyone but Angie. I know it was a splurge.

“I just wanted to check.” I wanted to ask what if I had been, but he kept going, and I didn’t feel the need to stop him. “Back to the fun stuff. Is it bad form to buy you a gift that's really for me?"

"For my birthday or Christmas, yes. Otherwise, no. I'm not sure that sexy lingerie that gets you hard isn't as much a benefit to me as it is you."

"You realize you in sweatpants and a t-shirt gets me hard. You in a bathrobe. You in a potato sack."

"I wonder who that says more about?" We laughed and I laid across him, counting on him to support me. "It does make us both lucky."

"Oh, don't I know it."

We spent the next day touring Versailles Palace. We jumped off the tour to explore as soon as we hit the outskirts of the city. When we were out of interesting places we jumped on the metro until we saw something new to explore. Dinner was at this Ping Pong cafe. The food was delicious and fortified us for the play to come. I am just as competitive playing ping pong with my boyfriend as I am on a volleyball court. There was a lot of trash talking. What made it more fun was how truly awful we both were. Neither was sure of the rules so we argued over and made them up as we went. In the end, I lost due to a combination of unsuccessful attempts at cheating and Sebastian being slightly less awful than me. Our overly dramatic antics did amuse nearby patrons and when Sebastian was recognized he was gracious in conversation and signing autographs. We made it to the Pont Alexandre III bridge just as the sun set. It was ornate and a beautiful end to the day.

Next up was a day of museums and checking out wherever in between. We met up with a guide in the afternoon for a walking tour of Art Nouveauarchitecture. On our way back to the hotel we passed by the lingerie shop. A quick discussion later we decided not to go in. It would ruin some of the fun if the other knew what we bought. I also decided I needed to find some sexy underwear for him. I checked; he'd wear them. Dinner was my responsibility tonight. I found a rooftop restaurant with a great wine list and an even better view.

Tuesday, the day before the fashion shows, was the day I was looking most forward to. It was an early start and long trip to Mont Saint Michel. Claire had hired us a car and we napped most of the trip. The town is a tidal island and when the tide comes in it covers the causeway, only cutting off access for about an hour, but still. We parked at the tourism office and took off our shoes for the half mile walk over the mudflats. It didn’t look like a dangerous trek, but apparently, quicksand was real here.

We weren't far into our walk when Sebastian asked, "Is this Hogwarts?"

Our guide laughed, "No, but yes. The movie was not filmed here but as you will see much of the architecture is similar and the street does resemble Diagon Alley."

Sebastian looked at me, "Did you know?"

I shook my head, "I love gothic architecture and castles. Versailles was incredible, but this is a hundred times better. Stonework, stained glass, the high pointed arches." I grabbed onto his arm, bouncing on my toes. "I'm so excited. This is surreal." I held my hand out toward the Abbey. "Look at this, I mean, look at this."

He was smiling at me, "Should take you home to Romania. Lots of castles."

"Don't tease me." I let go of him and walk to stand in a small puddle. The water was cool and the sand squished between my toes. I felt like I was in the bubble from my favorite guided meditation. I put my arms out with my shoes dangling off my fingers and twirled. I stopped facing Sebastian. He had his phone out, pointed at me. "What are you taking pictures of?"

"You." He laughed, "With a castle island thingy in the background."

I heard the guide say, "Your mademoiselle is much more beautiful than the background."

Sebastian nodded, "That she is."

I walked back to them and reached for his hand. He handed his phone to our guide to take a couple of pictures before we headed on.

I was in absolute heaven. Even more so when I saw Sebastian as in awe as I was with the narrow cobblestone streets and stairways that appeared out of nowhere. Our guide had stories and let us lead, only giving direction if we were missing something. He took the lead when we approached the Abbey and guided us through spaces as tiny as closets and large as cathedrals. The arches along the walkway did look like a scene off the bridge in Hogwarts.

Our guide left us at the end of the Abbey tour and after lunch, we walked the ramparts and worked our way around looking at everything and nothing. Talking and laughing.

It wasn’t long into the ride back that I realized my thighs were aching. "What is it with Paris and stairs?"

"There's a fuck ton of them." Sebastian smirked and leaned in to kiss the side of my neck. "I will be happy to massage your thighs when we get back."

"Stretch them out?"

"Definitely."

We both retreated into our phones for a while. Neither had paid attention to them since we got here. The return trip was good for nudging each other to show a picture we took. I texted my chosen family and sent pictures. Sebastian was doing the same thing. He showed me responses on his group chat.

Charles ~ You took her to Paris? Chace ~ You can't take a woman to Paris for a first vacation Will ~ Go big or go home Toby ~ That's it. I need to meet her. Charles ~ Find a date and take the last bedroom in the villa. Toby ~ Chace, wanna go to an island with me? Chace ~ Do I have to put out? Toby ~ What do you think? Will ~ Who has the lube? Chace ~ I bet there's some in Paris.

I'd lowered my phone while I read his. Sebastian pointed to my screen, "What is that?"

"It's that app we made the list on the train."

"You need to send me the list."

"I can do better than that. Can I have your phone?" He handed it over and I went into the app store, installed, and signed into the app under my user name. "Now you can see, edit, add." I kept typing while he looked around. There was more than a sexual to do list. I was currently adding to a notebook called "Moments".

"Can I add to this?" Sebastian was in the same notebook.

"Sure." I bit my lip, "I had a thought. You can say it's stupid or you don't want to."

He put his hand on my leg, "What?"

"I was thinking since we're going to be apart for a while, we could write to each other. Not like texts talking about our day. I'd write things I want you to remember or know. When I'm missing you, I could write a couple of sentences to you or go read what you've written to me. Not any expectation of how often. Just a place for sweet things, sexy things."

I'd gotten the idea while thinking about distance and time zones and insecurity. Perusing old texts is good, but a one-stop place for just love notes is better.

"I love it." He brought me to him and met me for a kiss. "Is this for me or you?"

I had no problem with him knowing I was planning for our time apart. "You saw my love notes from high school. I love them. Texts get lost in a hundred other texts. We can even copy texts over. Pictures. You keep a gratitude journal. This is similar."

"Did you make that up?"

I shrugged, "I doubt it." I showed him how to navigate and create new notebooks. Our first notebook was "Sex To Do" We'd done that together. The one I’d been in, "Moments”, was short form memories. "Holding hands for nine hours with food and conversation.", "Waking in Paris to see you watching me sleep”, "Me showing you architecture", "You showing me artifacts".

Sebastian immediately knew something he wanted to add, I showed him how to create space between limes so he could insert his words. He was going to write in burgundy and me in navy blue. He created a notebook for longer things. He liked to write and wanted a place for more words.

I waited until he’d gotten down a thought before showing him what I'd been most excited for. "Things for Sebastian." I’d already started.

· Te iubesc, Sebasti-an

· I was so lucky to find a lost boy in a grocery store

· You always make me feel cherished and safe

"This one is for battling insecurities. You can read my words and know what you mean to me. You've said you struggle with distance, insecurity, feeling emotionally cut off. I thought this might help keep a connection."

"You've made a security journal."

I thought a moment, "I guess. We've hit a couple of bumps and worked through them. I hoped this may help keep it away over distance."

I watched him switch notebooks and read what I'd written. "Anything I write shows up for you?"

"Yes, once the app refreshes.”

Sebastian looked over with the softest smile I'd ever seen on him. "I love you." The softest kiss followed. "I tell you I'm looking for the perfect moment to kiss you and you create it. I tell you I have confidence issues and you tell me everyone hears that voice. I have a panic attack and you push me to take care of myself. I lay out my anxieties, overthinking, insecurity, and history of shutting women out and you don’t even blink. Now you come up with this way to stay connected with old-fashioned love notes." He bobbed his head back and forth. "More or less." He kissed me. "You want me to feel safe and loved."

I took a deep breath, "Partly." I was telling him my plan to battle his stuff so it was only fair I let him in on mine.

He looked at me questioningly.

"I've never been away from some I love for six weeks. I'm going to miss you and it's going to be hard. This is for me too." I am not going to cry.

His hand went under my hair to my neck, "Are you about to cry?"

"I'm trying not to, but the chance of tears Friday about noon is one hundred percent."

I let him pull me close enough to kiss, "I better get busy." He retreated to his side of the seat, stretching out a leg over my lap, and turning where I couldn't see what he was typing on his phone.

"You realize the whole point is I can see what you write."

"Don't refresh yet. I don't think we should tell each other when we add stuff."

I nodded my agreement.

He stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth like he was thinking. He typed a bit then looked over, "If I miss you in the middle of the night, I can write you and it will be there when you wake up. I don’t know which I’m looking more forward to. Writing or reading.”

I didn’t either.

[jamiebluewind]

Character Descriptions for Fantasy High 2.9!

***

As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

Warning: trauma, abuse, mental abuse, neglect, starvation, manipulation, memory loss mention, dark themes, isolation, imprisonment, fantasy racism, vomit mention (please let me know if I missed any)

All pronounciations typed out have a rolled R.

***

Facts

The party is currently at 44,100 exp. each. Next level is at 48,000 (which will probably take 3 more big battles, 2 if Brennan is super generous with RP awards).

Abernant family had all their land and wealth reclaimed by The Court of Stars for their treachery and failure to prevent a war with Solace. Elianwyn committed treason and betrayal as well.

To save Adaine, the group decided to break up into 3 teams: Pylon 1 (Ragh, Tracker, Cathilda, and Sandra Lynn), Pylon 2 (Gorgug, Fabian, and Riz), and Recovery (Ayda, Fig, and Kristen). Team 1 and 2 would simultaneously take out the pylons. Then, the recovery team would go in (invisible and/or disguised) and gets Adaine and Aelwyn. They would all meet back at Van where they would most likely use Ayda's teleport to leave Fallinel (or regroup to plan their next move).

***

New Characters

Tell-ah-mine Low-men-el-da

Fabian's grandpapa

Tall elf with regal green robes, a silver circlet, long platinum white blond hair with a widows peak, and shimmering blue eyes

Crinkle in the corners of his eyes shows his age in sort of an Elrond way. He look of a dude in his late 40s/early 50s who took excellent care of his body and kept it tight

Moves with supernatural grace

Can turn into silver sand and float away

Has no concept of what time means

Obsessed with the fact that his grandson will die before him (Your human blood has brought mortality to this family. You will one day die.)

Offers to send word to an elf who is a fabled eye smith who lives on the high mountains at the heart of Fallinel that can craft a working eye (from songs, whispers, beams of moonlight, jeweled edges of the blue of the sea, and shimmering poems pulled from the ether itself) for Fabian, but has no clue how long it will take (a moment, a year, or a hundred years).

Can't pronounce words in common very well, especially words he's never heard before (which delights Fabian and pisses off Gorgug)

Calls Fabian Aramais Seacaster fa-bee-ahn ah-rye-ah-my-ess Seacaster (which might actually be the proper pronouncations of his name in that region as "Seacaster" was said correctly and that's how all the other elves say his name as well) and calls Hallariel ha-lair-ee-el

Weeps without moving his face, but also sometimes makes a soft eeehhhh sound when he cries (at one point he cried over a drop of water)

Gifted stewardship of Khy-low Meh-new-rah 3000 years ago after he crafted The Sword of the North Star (he was the smith of fung-dran-ghoor) for the ancient king of Fallinel Th-wrist-win Eversong.

"Without the Elven Oracle, we are lost."

Saw the Abernants as power hungry and cruel and can't understand why they would leave Fallinel. He found Anguin in particular to be a crass and small man with no nobility, only a thirst for power.

Thinks Riz has a harsh energy, is "a little dick", and calls him "a strange green mouse thing"

Got physically ill when a gun was explained to him, calling it gross and some dwarven kind of thing before vomiting which he turns into a flock of white crows

Vhan-lair-ee-el

Fabian's aunt

Tried to heal Fabian's pneumonia with elvan singing

Said "I have failed" when her singing doesn't work before she fades into starlight and vanishes

Hal-door-in and [unnamed youth]

Elven teens in white linen shorts arguing because [unnamed] believes Hal-door-in took his lute.

Calmed by a distant song which stopped their fight.

Faf-threth-riel

Lithe elven youth (around 17 or 18 years old) with a blond mop of hair covering one eye

Bakes elven whey bread

Lived a sheltered life

Ragh was the first half-orc he met

Mostly into Ragh due to Ragh being half orc, excessively talking about his green skin (like the boughs of a tree leafy, my leafy man), being big and beefy (your legs are like the mighty trunks of trees), was really into rage (like when Ragh punched a seat cushion) to the point of it making Ragh uncomfortable

Sang in bed

Treth-thren-ren

Elven youth who does morning dance yoga

Tried to get Fabian to eat a grape

Oak Warriors

Elemental plant based automaton soldiers made of pure magic

Look like 8 foot tall green men with leaves coming from their faces

***

Changes to Established Characters

Aelwyn

Matted long blond hair

Dry skin, chapped colorless lips, and thick bags under her eyes

Severely dehydrated and trance deprived (probably hasn't been allowed to trance for nearly a year)

5 points of exhaustion. Only magic is keeping her from going to the 6th level and dying.

Her "room" is a large large beautiful elven chamber with silver and marble. Ambiant light glows from the white stone.

Trapped inside a 15 foot diameter orb that's constantly turning so she can't trance

Crawling on hands and knees while trapped, shaking with the effort

Doesn't give Adaine up to Kear

Can still remember how to cast the message cantrip

Feels strange and addled (unable to think clearly; confused), can't remember what's real or imagined anymore, doesn't clearly remember what happened in her past (including what she did to get imprisoned), and forgets what she and Adaine have already talked about (causing a lot of reputation).

Thinks her parents "tried their best they could" and that "they expected quite a lot of us, but isn't that what- doesn't that... didn't that make us great?" (possibly due to something her father said or did since her imprisonment as it echoes a few things he's said)

Gilear

Looks scruffy (from not shaving), dirty, and has pit stains

Somehow didn't mess up being diplomatic with Fabian's grandpapa

Unbuttons the top button on his shirt when he "lets loose"

To Fig about Sandra Lynn and Garthy: Are you aware of such... hanky panky?

Learning of Sandra Lynn's infidelity with Garthy "Honestly? Perhaps this is... fucked up. It makes me feel... like there wasn't something uniquely wrong with me. Maybe a tiny little w for Gilear."

Spent the night walking through the forest with Hallariel's father, reciting poetry (badly)

To Fabian after Hallariel's father threw up "You're low and he's low. It's Gilear's day baby! It's Gilear's day."

Tried to ask Hallariel's father for her hand, but even though Fig gave him bardic inspiration and Riz helped by covering Fabian's mouth, he failed... so much. ("Lord Tell-ah-mine of Khy-low Meh-new-rah I like you am-" *makes himself throw up* "We get it. We both get it. We... We're the throw up boys." *passes out*)

Ayda

Hid in the van the entire visit

Might have rejection sensitive dysphoria (which is common in those with autism or ADHD)

Did a sending spell to Zelda for Gorgug for 150 gold (after reminding him that she very much does not like anyone in her debt or visa versa)

Offered to exact vengeance on Zelda for Gorgug

Is powerful enough to know teleport and learn plane shift (so level 13 or higher)

Stated that Adaine is her best friend and decides that since Fig is also Adaine's best friend, by the transitive property she is best friends with Fig as well (and Fig agreed). Learning this, she says "Fantastic. I grow richer by the day. I'm emotional." before starting to cry fire "I'm emotional. I'm gonna fly away." She then flew away, returning after she had calmed down.

Ragh

Ate grapes and started burping musical notes after he left Khy-low Meh-new-rah.

Lost his virginity to Faf-threth-riel who then got creepy and kinda racist, making Ragh very uncomfortable (and want to get out of there asap)

Fabian

Lost both points of exhaustion thanks to the 8000 thread count elven sheets (did they get to keep the sheets or at least one sheet for help with exhaustion?)

Felt really good when he tried out dance yoga, even wondering if he should be some kind of yoga dancer instead of a fighter (how about a whirling dervish dancer like Cathilda?)

The grapes he put in his pocket (after refusing to eat them) turned into song

Indifferent towards saving Aelwyn and doesn't want to be on the retrieval team

When he started feeling anxious about the Aelwyn stuff, Riz told him to lose himself in dancing again to feel free (Riz: You are the only one that I wanna see dancing right now.) It made him feel much better.

***

Other Characters

Adaine

Taken by Court of Stars

Her jacket and spellbook were taken

Trapped in an orb which is soft and doesn't hurt her, but the constant movement of its slow turning doesn't allow her to be still or trance

The walls of her room glow with runes and there are many perminant magical effects, making her captors capable of some crazy things (like prepared directional counter spells), but the setup wouldn't counter cantrips

Escaped the orb with dispel magic (dc 15) which makes a couple counter spells go off and an alarm sound

Hid in Aelwyn's room. The sister's spoke before she was recaptured and placed back in her orb. Adaine told Aelwyn that she was going to get her out

Discovered that her room was close enough to Aelwyn to talk to her via the message cantrip

Repeatedly cast Ray of Frost to turn her orb into a slip and slide to stay entertained

Instead of speaking to her father in elvish, she responded in common. Also cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter on him.

Anguin and Kear said she would be executed for treason for staying in Solace and refusing to cooperate. She demanded a lawyer and then the Ambassador to Solace, citing her age and being a student at Augefort Adventuring Academy which summoned a recorded hologram of Arthur Augefort.

Arthur Augefort

Has a recorded hologram that is activated when a student claims the need of his diplomatic help in foreign affairs.

It threatens the listeners with graphic and terrifying violence and doom, giving them the options of either rectify the actions that summoned him (Yes) or refuse and welcome the aforementioned punishment for their actions (No).

Gorgug

Fabian's grandfather called him Jhor-judge

Finally got a message to Zelda via Ayda using her sending spell (Zelda. Safe in Fallinel. Gonna finish cell tower soon. Sorry about everything, but hope your break is going well in spite of this. Miss you.) and got a reply the next morning a little while after waking up (Sorry. Was at a party. You don't have to build a cell tower. That's crazy. It's all whatever Gorgug. I don't blame you.)

Didn't sleep well, but still got the benefit of a full night's sleep due to elven sheets.

Kristen

Got in a fight with Tracker and then got 3 nat 1s on persuasion checks when she tried to make up with her.

Slept in Adaine's room

Doesn't know how to make a cell tower

Took one of the 40 to 50 foot long diaphanous silk scarves with her

Gave (inspiring?) speech ending with "Friendship is thinker than water and we need water to live." which gave everyone 11 temp hit points

Accidentally called Pok a "smiling elf" and then blew it off as being due to her being human

Can now see Shadow Cat in the picture (along with Tracker, Sandra Lynn, Garthy, Riz, and Sklonda and possibly the dead cambian, Pok, Jace, and Adaine's mom) and reacted by saying "Was I spooning the cat all night in the milk!?"

Sandra Lynn

Dropped out senior year and got her diploma after the fact to join an adventuring party

Joined as a replacement member for an existing adventuring party that was already active in the world and included an older much more powerful married couple.

Fresh out of high school, fell in love with one person from the couple (nonbinary or gender intentionally hidden) who "did not treat her very kindly"

When it all came out, she was ejected from the adventuring party, her romantic partner took great pains to smear her name (so no one would accept her), no other party would take her as a replacement, and she was forced to become a Celesian Ranger

Gilear knows who the couple were, but doesn't want to tell Fig (could she know the people involved?)

Key-heir/Khear

Child-like elven maiden with long brown braided hair, a white gown, and a large staff.

When confronted by Arthur Augefort's hologram, she chose to not heed his warnings.

***

More from 2.9!

***

Previous

[lozenger8]

So Scott sleeps with no shirt on and I'm honestly so endeared by that? I mean it's obviously fanservice (dear jesus this boy is beautiful) but it's just. So sweet. For some reason. I imagine the nuzzliest sleepovers with Stiles tbh.

ALL RIGHT, I’M OKAY. I’M DEFINITELY NOT HERE BUZZING UP AND DOWN BECAUSE I’M IMAGINING IT. 

How about Scott initially wearing a loose T-shirt when Stiles starts climbing into bed with him? (I’m thinking they’re in that liminal space where they’re a couple, but don’t have the words for it yet.)

Scowling down at the fabric before he pulls it over his head, but he doesn’t want to make Stiles uncomfortable, doesn’t want to presume. Stiles is almost always layered up, so he’d expect that of Scott right?

So Scott wriggles, and tosses and turns, and unbeknownst to him pulls at the neckline while he’s asleep with the most disgusted moue of distaste. 

After a couple of days, his sleep shirt disappears. Scott doesn’t have the world’s largest wardrobe or set of drawers, but he requisitions another shirt for sleeping. It’s a slightly smaller one and it chafes against him even worse. He gets over-heated and wakes up with sweat in the dip of his back. Has to have another shower in the morning, despite having had one before bed.

That shirt also disappears into thin air.

He goes through another 4 shirts -- initially thinking maybe his mom was doing his laundry for him on the sly even though she told him she wouldn’t -- that a nineteen year old man needs to know how to take care of himself. (Scott kindly doesn’t point out the numerous times he’s had to save his own fucking life, but okay mom, knowing how to use the cold wash so he doesn’t have to separate his colors from his whites should be his TOP priority.) 

Obviously he asks her about the shirts and she points out that she’d only rescue him from supernatural foes, not stains and sweat marks.

He’s standing in his room after his shower in his pajama pants, about to relegate yet another daywear shirt into nightwear when Stiles makes a noise from the bed. 

Scott turns around, inquisitive.

“Why?” Stiles whines. 

“What?”

“Why are you masking such beauty with that gray monstrosity?”

“... would you prefer blue?”

“Scotty, I would prefer whatever term you’d like me to use to describe your skin tone. I know foods are out. Can I use the pantone palette? You’re like 156 C depending on the lighting.”

Scott ignores most of what he says to ask, “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I was hoping you’d gotten the hint with your magically decreasing wardrobe. By the way, you are never getting those shirts back. They’re mine now.”

“I’m gonna need at least two of them back. You can keep the others.”

Stiles does a little victory wiggle that has Scott leaning down and kissing him senseless. Stiles slides his hands over Scott’s bare torso, caressing and lingering with tender touches. It feels good. Like the pitter patter of cool rain after a heatwave. Or the soft crunch of sand underfoot after tiptoeing over gravel.

When they pull apart, Stiles brushes his thumb over Scott’s lips reverently and frowns. “Why did you wear a shirt night after night?”

“I didn’t wanna make you feel pressured,” Scott says. “You’re always clothed, sometimes from head to toe. Stiles, you came to bed wearing a beanie and slippers the other day.”

“I get cold.”

“It’s June.��

“And I have poor circulation!” Stiles says, moving his hand through the air like an exclamation point. “You know what they say -- cold hands, warm heart. And all of it in love with you.”

Scott sits on the bed next to Stiles, tongues at his lips. He blinks down at his hands. “I don’t remember that last part.”

“I added it. Maybe I need to use my words more often rather than assuming you know exactly what I’m thinking at any given moment.”

Scott looks up at Stiles, sees that he’s awkward in the kind of way that means he’s trying. 

“I’m in love with you too. And I guess, if I have to bear the burden of shirtlessness, I’ll manage. For you.”

“You think I never noticed how much you hate every fiber of those shirts at night? And probably sometimes during the day? You’re a nudist in the making, it’s patently clear.”

“You wish.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Scott has no response to that. Anything he’d say would be egomanical, and then they’d be stuck bickering for another two hours.

He swings his legs up onto the bed, tugs at the blanket to cover them. Stiles doesn’t twist to his side and wrap himself in Scott’s arms like usual, though. Instead, he starts to kiss every inch of Scott’s exposed skin. Scott sighs into it, adoring every second, encouraging and directing Stiles with a hand casually resting on Stiles’ crown. 

That night they both sleep in the nude, too tired to re-clothe, though Stiles has crawled so close to Scott they may as well have become one symbiotic system or their own little biome. Scott wraps Stiles up tight and shares his warmth -- it’s so easy to do with them skin-to-skin.