#at least with books I don’t have to worry about a half-baked story that will never have an ending

[trashticality]

rise, written media… rise to spite the deaths of your brothers (shows getting cancelled on streaming platforms after 1-2 seasons)

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan reaps what she has sowed.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 1,891. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 18: Lady Trevelyan's Folly

It was about a half-hour after luncheon that Dagna requested Trevelyan take something to the Commander’s office. Perfect.

Up to the Great Hall she went, straight through the library—good afternoon, Dorian!—and into the great outdoors. The Commander’s tower was merely a stone’s throw away, but her brief excursion was pleasant all the same. The sun was bright and shining, as if it wished to match her mood. A fellow mage passed her by, exchanging a cheery smile. Everything was quite perfect!

She tapped a little melody upon the Commander’s door. A second later, came his invitation:

“Enter.”

Trevelyan did exactly that, and was delighted by what she saw.

He stood behind his desk, his eyes upon the report he held—in one hand. The other brandished a spoon, which he casually dipped into a little baking dish, and pulled from it a sweet bite of apple crumble. Trevelyan smiled as he ate it, and noted happily that half the dish was already empty.

“Good afternoon, Commander.”

His head sprung up, to look in her direction. He desperately tried to finish his mouthful, so that he might say: “Lady—!”

But some crumble must have lingered, as his speech turned to a choke. He coughed and spluttered crumb over his desk, urgently trying to turn away.

“Maker, are you all right?” Trevelyan asked. “Have you a drink?”

But the Commander’s coughs already slowed. The back of his hand pressed firm against his mouth, in an effort to abate them.

“I’m fine,” he croaked, turning to catch sight of his desk. “Maker’s breath.”

There was a nearby rag he snatched up, wiping away flecks of crumb and spittle from his documents. Trevelyan concealed the laughter that dared sneak into her mouth. The poor man was embarrassed enough.

“Good crumble?” she asked.

“Ah—yes, it is”—he glanced to it, then her—“would you… like some?”

Trevelyan smiled. “No, thank you. It is yours. And you seem to be... enjoying it.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to make such a fool of myself.”

“Not at all. Besides, I made quite the fool of myself yesterday,” she said, recalling the prior morning with the Baroness. “I am sorry for running off. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

The Commander stopped, to look at her. Maker, those honey eyes of his, they bore so much solemnity. “It’s all right,” he told her. “I’m… sorry, if I overstepped. I hope I did not cause you any trouble.”

At least he was somewhat self-aware, if only after the fact. “Don’t worry. It has all been levelled out.”

“Good.” He took to cleaning again. “Do the other Ladies speak to you like that often?”

“Goodness, no! The Baroness made a mistake, that’s all. She has since apologised, quite sincerely. She is a good woman; they all are.”

“Ah, I see. Then, forgive me for misinterpreting.”

Oh. What an interesting angle to consider this from. Not only did the Commander think he was protecting her from Touledy, but he thought he was defending her against the Ladies as a whole? Well, at least correcting him on the matter had provided Trevelyan another opportunity to talk them up.

“Forgiven,” she said, watching him continue his cleaning work. His rag ran over the cover of a book, that was perched right at the edge of his desk.

Trevelyan could have sworn she recognised the title from one Lady Erridge had described. ‘His Lady’s Promise’. Sequel to ‘His Lady’s Word’. Apparently, not as good.

“Do you read romances, Commander?”

“Yes—ah, no!” The Commander opened a drawer, and shoved the book inside. Not before Trevelyan had noticed a slip of paper marking a page partway through, however. “Or—well, yes. It was… recommended by a friend.”

His sheepishness pointed to a certain meaning. Perhaps he was looking for advice, amongst those pages? Perhaps Trevelyan’s scheming had worked. Perhaps he cared for one of the Ladies!

Hiding her excitement, Trevelyan asked, “Do you like it?”

“I have… only just started it.”

“Oh? Do you read much?”

He shrugged. “When I have the time.”

“Oh!” Trevelyan laughed to herself. “So, never?”

“Well, I,” he stammered, “sometimes, before bed, I may read.”

“Just reports, or—?”

He laughed. Maker, it was such a terrible laugh. She could not help but find it lovely.

“No,” he said.

Trevelyan raised an eyebrow, for he was, at that moment, glancing down at something on his desk. She crept closer, and snuck a peek. Some Duke sending recruits to the Orlesian frontlines after ceasefire, how intriguing. Almost seemed like… a report?

“And what is this you’re reading?” she asked. He startled to see how close she’d gotten.

“It’s, ah—” he sighed. “Sorry, I… it caught my eye.”

Trevelyan smiled, and noted to herself how full of apology he was. That had to be his fourth this conversation. If he knew what she’d heard him say at the gala… would he be sorry? She couldn’t help but think he might.

“One would hope a man like you would have better focus,” she jested.

The Commander smiled. “Did you come to tease me, Lady Trevelyan, or have you a report yourself?”

Trevelyan giggled. “Why not both?” She produced the envelope given to her by Dagna. “Here. The Arcanist wishes to request usage of the Inquisition’s red lyrium sample. We are almost ready to perform our first tests on the substance itself. We require your approval first.”

The request was more formally, and more verbosely, laid out in the letter which the Commander now read. He straightened, and nodded.

“You have my approval. I’ll have the keys to its chamber sent.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”

Trevelyan blinked. The Commander began to stutter.

“I—I didn’t mean, forgive me, it was, it’s a habit, I…”

Trevelyan laughed. Like the Templars at the Circle would, she stood to attention. “Yes, Commander!” She crossed an arm over her chest, and did a little bow. “I’ll see to it, Commander! Right away, Commander!”

He smiled, though it did not clear his shame. “I am determined to humiliate myself in front of you,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Trevelyan chuckled. “Don’t worry, Commander. It’s endearing.”

He managed to look in her direction, but struggled to find his words. “I, ah…”

“I shall leave you to it, before another incident occurs,” said Trevelyan. “Enjoy your apple crumble, Commander.”

“I shan’t say another word, just in case,” he muttered, before adding: “Farewell.”

Trevelyan curtsied, and turned for the door. As soon as it closed behind her, she heard a grumbling from inside.

It made her smile. There was a little flutter in her chest, which she could not quite explain. Her heart beat as if she’d had some death-defying experience in there, when all it had been was a conversation with the Commander.

Or perhaps it was knowing the success of the apple crumble. Oh, she had to report to Lady Erridge right away! Dagna could wait a few more minutes—she was rather lax about Trevelyan’s attendance anyway, given how easily she had waved off this morning’s absence. Then again, Trevelyan had worked every single day since taking up the role. She was technically owed some break.

So Trevelyan hurried away, into the keep of Skyhold, to locate Lady Erridge. The search was rather easy—Erridge had taken to her room after luncheon, and was, coincidentally, reading romances.

“Come in, come in!” she said excitedly, when Trevelyan appeared at the door.

Her room was much like Trevelyan’s in style, except there were vases of flowers on every available surface, in every available colour. And also, Erridge had a teddy bear sat beside her pillow. Trevelyan assumed the name would be saccharine enough to turn even soured milk sweet.

“Have you seen the Commander?” Erridge asked, as they sat upon her sofa.

“I have,” Trevelyan told her, “and you will be pleased to hear that, when I walked in, he was eating the crumble!”

Lady Erridge gasped. “Truly!?”

“Yes! He said he liked it, and was very much enjoying it. He even offered for me to try some!”

Erridge applauded. Her face was bright and beaming, her cheeks the rosiest they’d ever been. “Oh, how wonderful! I am ever so glad to hear it. Our efforts have been well-rewarded—though I do wish you’d taken some of the credit.”

“No, no!” Trevelyan waved a hand. “It was your idea! And it is better for him to think it was a solitary endeavour.”

“Yes, but—it does sort of feel like lying, and I do dislike lying.”

Trevelyan shook her head. “A white lie, perhaps. But it does no harm to anyone but me, really, and I am fine with it.”

Erridge sighed. “Well, if you are, and if you think he is not deceived, then… all right.” She perked again. “Maker, how much had he eaten?”

“Nearly half!” said Trevelyan. “I do think he might finish it all in one day, he likes it so much!”

“I should find that recipe again, and copy it down for when we are married—for if what you say is true, then it is almost a certainty!”

Trevelyan smiled, but struggled to nod. She could not imagine the Commander marrying Erridge. No, Lady Erridge would be better off with Lady Orroat. The Commander could… marry someone else.

“Will you ask him about it again, Lady Trevelyan?” Erridge begged. “I must know if he finishes it!”

Trevelyan giggled. “Well, if you wish me to, I shall happily find an excuse, and pay him another visit. A few hours should do the trick!”

If she could wait. Trevelyan was quite eager to see the Commander again. But the visit was supposed to be for their scheme’s sake, and so there was little purpose in seeing him right away.

Even if she, for some reason, wanted to.

***

The hours passed by excruciatingly. But finally, the sun began to dip, and Trevelyan took that as her signal. She’d had plenty of time to think of an excuse. She would tell him that she needed more details of the approval he was speaking of, in regards to the red lyrium sample. Easy.

And while there, she could see if there were any crumble left. It was not such a big dish, and he might well have eaten it all. Lady Erridge would be so pleased if that were the case.

Trevelyan made her excuses to Dagna, and slipped away to the Commander’s office once more. The sky had turned cloudy, but it could not dim her mood. There was no-one to greet her on the way, but she smiled to herself all the same.

She knocked melodiously upon the door. And waited.

It took a few seconds longer, this time; she had almost raised her hand to knock again. But then, the call came:

“Yes?”

Trevelyan pushed open the door, and entered. Her face fell.

The Commander sat at his desk, head slumped in his hands. The baking dish was empty, sure, but he—he was pale. Sweating. Something was wrong.

“Commander?”

He lifted his head, slow. His eyelids drooped half-closed. His eyes were glassy, ghostly. He looked to her with even more sadness than before.

And to her call, her answered: “Greagoir isn’t here right now.”

[wish-incorrect-quotes]

Fairy Godmother Practice: Chapter 1

I've been working on a little fanfic series about Asha getting some experience with her newfound powers. Here's the first part!

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

“Do you think I’m gonna be any good at this?”

Asha had spent most of the day sitting off to the side in the kitchen, reading and rereading an old book of fairy tales. The book was supposedly for inspiration, as she’d explained to Dahlia. Though from what Dahlia had observed, there was very little inspiring going on, but quite a bit of worrying.

“Of course you will.” Dahlia assured her friend. “Star chose you for a reason.”

Not looking convinced, Asha continued to stare down at the book with a troubled frown. She skimmed through a few more pages, then let out a frustrated sigh.

“It’s just a lot to live up to. Fairy Godmothers have been a part of so many amazing stories.”

“And I’m sure all of them had to start somewhere.”

“But how do I even know if I’m doing it right? It’s not just throwing magic around at everyone. I mean, you need to help people, but you can’t just hand them their dreams, you’re supposed to let them earn success on their own, and it’s your job to figure out if there’s something they’ll need to get there, but if I do too little or too much, I might just be messing everything up, and-”

“Okay, breathe.” Dahlia interrupted. Deciding that the rose-shaped cookies she had been decorating looked completed (she was enjoying getting to try out some different designs instead of always making Magnifico cookies the way she used to), she slid the tray closer to Asha to allow her to take one. In her opinion, there were very few problems that couldn’t be made at least a little less stressful with baked goods. “It’s the same as any other skill. You just need practice.”

Asha took a deep breath, had a bite of a cookie, and then nodded. Dahlia did always have a way of being right about these sorts of things.

“You’re right. Practice… practice is good.” A few more moments of thinking, and then she asked, “How do I get practice?”

“Well, it would probably make sense to start with the people you know best. Why don’t you see if you can give our friends some help with their wishes?”

“Yes! That’s a great idea!”

With her spirits restored, Asha set the book down and jumped to her feet, reaching to pull her wand from the place where she’d taken to carrying it in her sleeve. Dahlia half expected her to immediately run off to find the nearest person to help, but Asha continued to linger in the kitchen a bit longer.

“So, anything I can help you with?” She asked.

Dahlia hadn’t realized they’d be starting with her when she suggested it. But after a little bit of thought, she did have an idea. She reached to open the nearby junk drawer, and pulled out her favorite eggbeater, which had finally become so well-used that it gave out and the handle had snapped clean off.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could fix this? Baking has been taking longer without it.”

“Alright, let me see what I can do…”

From what little experience she had gotten so far, Asha knew that she shouldn’t be focusing on the tool itself. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to let the magic find its connection to the wish. She thought about how much Dahlia loved baking, how her dream was to be the best, and how having the right tools would leave her free to focus on developing her talent without getting slowed down.

When she dared to open her eyes again, she was relieved to see the contraption looking completely whole again, not to mention just as shiny as if it were brand-new.

Dahlia briefly took the time to examine in, then looked up to smile at Asha. “Nicely done. You’re a natural.”

Aha didn’t know if she would quite agree with that. She had certainly had a few mishaps while learning how to manage a wand. But still, she was getting better. Dahlia was right, she just needed to get some experience. And with any luck, she’d be able to figure this out for the rest of her friends too.

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 74 - Baking something with apples in the kitchen (I think it was just a pie?)

Original statement given 8th June, 2015. So this cooould potentially be another statement that was given when our Archive crew was already in charge. If Gertrude's death was in May and not March, if could be a close one though. HR works slowly I heard…

"Even as a child, my mother would always check my room to find me reading well into the night. If I heard her coming up the stairs, I would turn off my light and dive beneath the covers to try and convince her I was sound asleep." - I did that with my old Game Boy. The big grey one. I had this magnifying glass with a small lamp to attach to the Game Boy so I could play in the dark (The first Game Boys didn't have a backlit screen. You needed proper light to see anything).

"I work as a freelance writer. It’s not a good job." - Lol, ok considering that Jonny wrote this statement sleep-deprived and based a lot of it of what he was feeling in that state, is there something he wants to tell us with this statement? xD

"There is a man in my living room. He is tall, with sandy blond hair that twists into unruly curls." - Michael's not even subtle with this one.

"Your vision goes strange when you don’t sleep for a long time. I think it’s something to do with changing pressure on your eyeballs. You start to detect faint movements on the edges, on the periphery," - this is what I meant in my ask to MAG 65 when I said I see things in the corner of my eye when I'm sleep-deprived (or filled to the brim with anxiety). I also thought this to be a great plot device for a potential story.

"Your body will go through phases where it seems to be trying to completely shut itself down, and keeping your eyes open is quite literally a physical struggle. Then all at once you’ll enter a period of manic energy, a second, third or fourth wind that leaves you giddy and nauseous, struggling to find an outlet for your sudden rush." - Yep, can relate very much.

The ambient track in this episode is btw one that will get used a lot in the following seasons, I think? It's more subtle then the one I love so much and I'm sad that it got ditched somewhen in S2 and we only once hear it again in MAG 121.

"Michael, did you drive her to this? Another victim of your warped games? Or were you simply drawn like a vulture? Or maybe a shark sensing blood." - Yeah actually, do we know how it works? Sometimes you can see there was a tendency to things that could attract certain Fears, other times it seems completely random. Or maybe it's just that. Some are just unlucky, others attract it.

"I’m rather glad I don’t really drink coffee." - This answers the question if Jon meant it in MAG 163, when he said to Martin "I hate your tea and wish you made coffee instead". It was just to tease Martin in case he could still hear him.

"I decided to get somewhat more proactive and purchased a small motion-sensor camera, which I hid in view of the trapdoor. After a week, I reviewed the footage." - That was actually very clever, good job Jon!

"They appear to be a man, or at least male-presenting. Middle-aged or older judging from the frame, but hard to be sure. They emerge around three in the morning, holding what appears to be an attaché case. Then, they spend about half an hour rifling through archives, and retreat back down after stuffing a handful of files into the case." - Leitner living in the tunnels and sneaking around will never not be funny to me xD

"but what worries me is the manner they leave the trapdoor. Rather than picking the lock or forcing their way through, they seem to move the floor itself out of their way somehow, and replace it when they return." - That book is handy!

Reading this statement got me thinking that maybe Michael was also initially created as a result of sleep deprivation

Jonny started seeing blond curls and long fingers in his peripheral vision and decided to give them a personality

[dreamerstreamer]

Human GPS

Pairing: c!Technoblade x f!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] Technoblade really needs some books of mending, and you just happen to be the daughter of the village cleric.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: this a repost of the first ever story i posted when i first made my blog. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you like it as much as i did! <3

Technoblade blinked, his eyes squinting up at the clear, cerulean sky. It was about midday now, and the beating sun sat in the center of the sky, almost taunting him from where it hung.

If the sun is directly above me, he thought, then west must be… He frowned. Somewhere. Maybe.

He groaned and swung his legs off of Carl, the horse letting out a soft whinny as he hopped onto the ground. He had been travelling for what must have been close to an hour now, and he still hadn’t found a village. It was almost like the universe was trying to waste his time. All he wanted was to get his hands on some books of mending so he didn’t have to worry about any of his armour breaking, yet the world was sending him on a wild goose chase, anyways.

“Seriously,” he muttered, irritation gnawing away at his already dwindling patience, “how hard can it be to find just one cleric? It’s not like I’m asking to find a woodland mansion, or something.”

Letting out yet another long groan, Technoblade flipped open the pack he attached to Carl’s saddle. He pulled out a baked potato and bit in, allowing himself a few seconds of relief as he ate.

For a brief moment, he considered digging through his bag to look for a compass or—better yet—a map. But then he remembered that just prior to leaving, he had reminded himself that he was a human GPS and that “Technoblade never fails.”

He sighed. No compass, it is.

He took another bite of the potato in his hands, looking around at the terrain around him. There was a lush birch forest to his left and a barren desert on the opposite side. Just a little to his right was a river and—

Wait a second.

Technoblade froze, his jaw freezing halfway through chewing another bite of potato.

He recognized that river.

A wide grin split across his lips.

He totally knew where to find a village.

Doing his best not to choke, Technoblade stuffed the rest of the baked potato in his mouth and buckled his pack shut. With a grunt, he pulled himself back onto Carl, picking up the reins. “Like I said, Carl, who even needs a compass? I’ve got the map memorized, and my inner compass is perfectly calibrated.”

Carl looked back at him and let out an almost sarcastic sounding neigh that seemed to say, “Sure.”

Technoblade’s face rolled his eyes. He snapped the reins once, and Carl charged forward.

The human GPS never failed.

You let out an ecstatic cry as you pushed the last book in your hands onto the creaky bookshelf, stepping back to look at your work in pride. You’d been organizing the library for a little over half the day now, and you were almost finished. Each shelf was now in alphabetical order.

Dusting off your skirt, you took one last glance at the shelves before settling down at the table in the corner of the room, looking over the to-do list you had set out for yourself the night before. “Let’s see,” you hummed to yourself, “I already dusted all the tabletops, mopped the floor, and delivered that order to Mr. Hart. Now I can check ‘organize bookshelves’ off the list, too.”

You set the quill down on the table. “Meanwhile, dad’s out trading with Mrs. Lee and said he would be back soon.” You stared down at the page for a moment longer before sighing. A frown etched itself onto your features. You leaned your elbows on the oak tabletop as your gaze trailed out the church window and up at the cloudless sky.

You had lived in the village your whole life with your father, the village cleric. Everything was peaceful and you loved the familiar environment you resided in, but things had also become so… boring in the village. So bland, so dull. You can’t even remember the last time you did something fun. Sure, you were productive and made sure to help your father around his workspace the best you could, but you wanted more than this.

Please, you thought to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut in a silent prayer. Please, please, please let something new and exciting happen. At least just once in my life.

All of a sudden, you heard a distant rumbling.

You sat up straight, blinking awake from your reverie. What’s that sound?

The rumbling grew louder, and you could now recognize it as the galloping of a horse. Your thoughts were only confirmed by the loud whinny you heard right after the rumbles stopped.

You pushed your chair back, standing up from the table and walking over to the front window, crouching down to peek outside. You squinted, your eyes scanning around outside before they landed on an unfamiliar shape.

Your heart suddenly barrelled over in your chest.

Sitting atop a horse wearing diamond armour in the center of the village square was a stranger.

His back was facing you, but from what you could see of him, the first thing you noticed was the crimson robe hanging off his shoulders, cascading down his back like a scarlet waterfall. An axe was strapped to his back, tinted with a murky, violet hue. His hair was a vibrant shade of cherry blossom pink like nothing you had ever laid eyes on before, and on his head sat a golden crown encrusted with glittering gems. You wondered what his face looked like, curiosity bubbling in your chest.

Just then, he slid off his horse, landing on the ground with a small thump. He stood tall and proud, turning his head this way and that as he looked around at the houses around him, an air of regality surrounding him.

Then, he turned.

Your eyes only met for a fraction of a second before you immediately ducked down, hiding your figure from view in the window. The moment you were out of sight, you stilled, doing your best not to give yourself away.

He was handsome.

His face was calm and demure, reflecting his royal air almost perfectly, and his eyes, like his robe, were a piercing crimson red. They almost seemed to stare into your soul, laying every part of yourself bare for him to see.

He looked like a king in every sense of the word, and you just had to meet him.

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you struggled to regain your breath. You peeked over the windowsill carefully, glancing past the glass outside once more. The stranger had tied his horse to a post in the square and was walking around, glancing at the villagers here and there. Most of them seemed to be slightly wary of him—after all, it wasn’t everyday a king showed up at your doorstep. He seemed to be looking for something with the way he kept looking around him, his eyes sweeping over every inch of the village. Perhaps you could help him.

Slowly, you slid away from the windowsill and carefully clicked open the front door, stepping outside. The sun shone brilliantly on your face as you made your way toward the stranger. Once again, his back was turned to you, and you stopped a few feet behind him. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up what courage you had before speaking.

“Hello.”

The man turned at the sudden sound of your voice, his scarlet eyes piercing into yours. “Oh, hello.” His voice was deep, laced with a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your offered him a warm smile. “Welcome to our humble village. I’m [Y/N].” You extended your hand, and he took it in a friendly handshake, smiling back.

“The name’s Technoblade.”

Your eyebrows quirked. “Technoblade,” you repeated. “That’s a unique name.”

“Thanks,” he said, jokingly adding, “I got it for my birthday.”

You giggled at that. He may look regal and intimidating, but right off the bat, it seemed that his personality was far from it. “You know what they say, a bad joke is always the best way to leave a good first impression.”

He frowned, feigning sadness. “Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”

Your lips twitched. “Well, I laughed at it, so I’ll give you that.” His face lit up once more, and you felt your stomach churn with warmth. “Well, what brings you here?”

He gestured to the pack he had clipped to his belt. “Just looking to do a few trades, really.”

You looked at him in confusion. “A king? Trading with commoners like us?”

He blinked for a moment. “Ah, about that, I’m not really a king, per se.” He plucked his crown from off his head, tossing it casually in his hands. “The crown and robes are more for… aesthetic purposes, to say the least. I don’t really rule over my own country or anything.

Your tilted your head at him. “Where do you come from, then? I can only imagine you travelled for a while to get here.”

He shrugged. “It was kind of far, but it wasn’t a big deal, really. I never got lost.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Never?” you said.

“Never,” he confirmed. His grinned smugly, your heart reeling at the sight. “I’m a human GPS, if you will.”

You stifled a laugh but couldn’t hide your smile. What a dork. “Totally.”

His grin only widened. “Anyways, I’m from this place called Pogtopia.” You must have made a face at his words, because he laughed at you and god, even his laugh was pretty. “Yeah, it’s kind of a funny name, isn’t it? Well, I didn’t come up with it. My friends Tommy and Wilbur did.”

“They must be…” You looked for a good word. “…interesting people.”

He laughed. “It’s okay—you’re allowed to say they have bad taste in names.”

You giggled, your cheeks flushing in slight embarrassment. “Okay, yeah, their taste is pretty poor.” You glanced at him. “Are they the kings of your country then, since they named it?”

“Kind of. I guess you could call them kings, but they’re more like self-instated presidents, even though that kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a president.” You nodded, following along in agreement. “They’re trying to win back some land they were exiled from a while back called L’Manberg, although it was recently renamed Manberg, but there’s also Dream and his SMP, and—” He sighed, running a hand through his rosy locks. “It’s complicated. Basically, we’re sort of in the middle of this war, and I just kind of got roped into it.”

Your eyes widened in alarm. “A war?! Surely we wouldn’t get involved, right?” Your village, like many others, was a pacifist group of people, having no source of defense or battle skills to protect yourselves with. If this supposed war came all the way to your little village, all of you would surely perish.

Technoblade raised his arms in front of him, quickly shaking his head. “Oh, definitely not. You’ve got nothing to worry about, I swear.”

You pressed a hand to your chest as you let out a breath of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.” Technoblade smiled at you from the corner of your eye, amusement lacing his lips. You suddenly straightened, another thought popping into your head. “What about you, then? Aren’t you worried?”

He laughed again, though it sounded more like a cackle. “Me? Worried? Nahhh.” He swung his axe off his back, being careful to point it away from you. “I may not look like it, but I’m actually one of the most feared warriors in the land. Tommy and Wilbur basically begged me to join their side so I can help them win.” He gestured to himself. “You don’t have to believe me, but I think it’s pretty clear to see I’m pretty much a god at PVP.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No, I believe you. You do look like you could seriously teach someone a thing or two with that axe, but I really don’t think I need to feed your ego anymore.” You smiled bemusedly. “It already seems to be quite large on its own.”

His grin dropped. “Wait, please, feed my ego, I thrive off complime—”

A giggle escaped your mouth as you waved your hand at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Your expression grew a bit more serious. “But honestly, you’re not scared? Even a little?”

Technoblade shook his head. “Nope. A war is just a lot of fights lined up one after the other, and I’m great at winning fights. Heck, I could probably wipe out the other side in a heartbeat with what I’ve got in my arsenal. Tommy and Wilbur might just send me out by myself to do just that.”

“They would?” you said in disbelief. “Aren’t they worried for you, either?”

He snorted. “They were the ones who wanted me here to help them win, so they definitely aren’t worried.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Well, that was no good—no good at all. Wasn’t a single person concerned for this man’s safety, not even just one? No matter how powerful he may be, this was a war you two were talking about, and wars don’t always go according to plan.

Suddenly, it hit you.

“I see,” you murmured. You raised your chin, resolve filling your veins. “Then I’ll worry for you.”

Technoblade stared at you for a long moment, stunned into silence. Panicking, you began to ramble. “You and your friends may have overwhelming confidence in you and your abilities,” you said, “but it’s still important that you recognize that sometimes things don’t go according to plan. That’s why you should worry, and if you won’t, then I’ll do it in your stead.”

When he still didn’t say anything after yet another moment, you felt embarrassment rise up in you. “I’m sorry, we just met and that was totally uncalled for of m—”

“No, no, really,” he abruptly said, shaking his head. “It’s all good. Seriously.” There was a slight pause. Then, he softly added, “Thank you. I appreciate your concern.”

His lips curled to form a smile, but this one was different from the ones he gave you before. Those ones were proud and teasing, full of mirth and some level of arrogance. But this one was softer, kinder. More genuine and real.

You liked this one more.

Still feeling slightly embarrassed from having just rambled about caring about a near stranger to his face, you quickly shifted gears. “W-Well, I should probably ask what exactly you wanted to trade for,” you said as your cheeks flushed pink. You lowered your gaze to the ground, trying to avert your eyes from his. “I can probably help you find whatever it is you need.”

Technoblade hummed. “I have a bunch of stuff with me that I can use to trade, but I’m looking for a cleric to get some mending books from.”

Your head shot up in recognition. “A cleric, you say?” Your lips curled into a small grin when he nodded. “I know just where to find him. Wait here for a minute, okay?”

As soon as he nodded his head once more, you had already taken off, bounding down the grassy path with your skirt trailing behind you. Technoblade’s gaze followed you as you rushed down the path, a pleasant warmth bubbling in the pit of stomach and he watched you run off.

Usually whenever he came to a village, the people he met were wary of him and hardly ever spoke more than the bare minimum to him. Most of them were intimidated by his appearance, others thrown off by his cockiness. And yet here you were, treating him like a friend when so many before you had done the exact opposite. You were kind, compassionate, and you saw more than just his arrogant exterior. You genuinely cared for the person he was underneath the crown and the robes. Not to mention, you were quite the sight for sore eyes.

Warmth blossomed in his chest and something fluttered in his stomach.

He was glad he came to this village.

To say your father was more than pleased to trade some books of mending for the stacks upon stacks of emeralds Technoblade had was an understatement.

“I thought you said you weren’t a king,” you said to him, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head when you saw him open his pack.

“I’m not,” Technoblade said, twirling an emerald between his fingers. “I just happen to be very wealthy.”

You shook your head at him, a smile gracing your lips. “You’re a maniac.”

He shot you a smug look. “Oh, don’t I know it.”

After he had traded for some mending books with your father, he had asked you if your village had a fletcher.

“Oh, I made a delivery to Mr. Hart earlier today,” you said. “Here, follow me.”

The trek to the other side of the village was short enough, and you were content to wait on the sides while Technoblade made some negotiations. Just then, Mrs. Lee spotted you and strode up to you.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N],” she greeted, her lips tilting into a familiar gentle smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee!” you chirped happily, turning to face her. “Thank you for the pumpkins, earlier today! I’ll be sure to give you some of the pumpkin pie I bake tomorrow.”

“Why, there’s no need for you to do that, dear.” She leaned close to your ear to whisper, “You know you’re my favourite of the youngins here.”

You blushed. “You know that’s not true.”

She held a finger to her lips. “It’s our little secret, alright?” She looked over your shoulder at Technoblade, who was still debating with Mr. Hart. “Looks like you’ve become acquainted with our visitor, haven’t you, dear?”

Your blush deepened. “Y-Yes! I have. His name is Technoblade and he comes from a country called Pogtopia. He traded for some books with my father just now.”

Mrs. Lee wrinkled her nose. “Weird name, the both of them, but never mind that.” She smirked at you, glancing just behind you. “He’s quite the looker, isn’t he?”

Your face exploded like a bright red tomato. “I-I, um, he’s. Um.” You took a deep breath and fanned your face, lowering your voice. “He’s handsome.”

Her smirk only grew larger. “I hope the two of you become even more acquainted then,” she said cryptically, patting your shoulder. “I’ll be on my way now, but do let me know how it goes, okay?”

You nodded dutifully, too embarrassed to say anything else. Mrs. Lee turned away and continued her way down the grassy path, smiling to herself.

If only you had seen the way he had looked at you.

Hours had passed since Technoblade had first arrived in the village, and the sun was just beginning to set. The two of you had visited just about every working person in the village, chatting away as Technoblade traded for whatever he needed from each person you two saw.

The two of you learned a lot about each other in the time you spent together. You learned that Technoblade wasn’t a huge fan of government and much preferred anarchy. He learned that you longed for something much more than your normal life in the village, but you had yet to discover what it was you wanted to do. You learned that he owned a dog named Floof. He learned the location of your favourite spot in the village. By the end of the day, it felt like you two had known each other for ages.

You secretly hoped that he would stay, but you knew that he couldn’t. The village wasn’t his home, after all.

You stood nearby as Technoblade strapped his pack back onto Carl’s saddle, chewing the inside of your lip. He climbed onto Carl, securing his axe on his back and picking up the reins in his hands. “Well, [Y/N],” he said, a hint of disappointment tinging his voice, “it looks like this is goodbye.”

“I guess so,” you murmured sadly, casting your gaze down at your feet. You had only known him for so long, but an overwhelming sense of loss filled you knowing that Technoblade was leaving and may very well never return. He was funny with his dry, dorky sense of humour and charming with his sharp grins and deep voice.

You weren’t sure you were quite ready to let go just yet.

“Um,” you spoke up, your voice cracking a little, “will you…” You peeked up at him, nervously biting the inside of your cheek as you fiddled with your fingers. “Will you ever come back?”

Something in Technoblade’s chest seized at the shy look on your face, your cheeks rosy and your gaze darting back and forth between his eyes and the ground. While he had originally only come in search of this village to trade with a cleric, he supposed he might always need more mending books in the future. Not to mention, he would also get to see you.

He smiled, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll be back, so wait up for me, yeah?”

Your eyes lit up and an elated grin spread across your face. “I-I will!”

He chuckled at your giddiness, his own heart beating wildly against his rib cage. “Good.”

Sharing one last look with you, he snapped his reins and held on tight as Carl dashed forward, his gaze trailing behind him as he watched you wave your arms frantically at him. He couldn’t help but crack a smile at your enthusiasm, raising his arm to wave back at you himself. He kept waving until he could no longer see you, and only then did he face forward to find his way home.

The journey back was significantly shorter than the trip to the village, and before he knew it, he was tying Carl to his usual fence post. He was a human GPS, after all. How else would he have found the village—and you—with so much ease?

He tilted his head up, looking up at the rising moon in the east. Now he knew that the village (and you, his heart helpfully supplied once more) lay to the west, just beyond the birch forest, desert, and river. Above him, he could make out the shapes of a handful of constellations, the stars twinkling and winking down at him from space. He wondered if you were looking up at the same starry sky as him. He wondered if your stomach was full of butterflies, too.

“So,” he mused to himself aloud, his heart thump-thump-thumping in his chest, “[Y/N], huh?”

He was definitely going back.

[dreamkidddream]

I’d like to request hc’s of the Brothers and Diavolo reacting to an MC that’s so cute, she could pass off as a doll. If she stands perfectly still, she could pass off as a full sized doll until she moves again. She has adorable doe eyes, wears cute clothes (Lolita fashion or just has an anime girl style), and even makes cute desserts. If the usual MC was weak and frail to them already, Doll!MC seems so dainty, precious, and fragile; these guys would ban paper if she ever got a paper cut.

Oooooo this is really interesting! I can just imagine Doll!MC just making everyone so scared every time she moves because they could probably hurt themselves just bumping into a wall because they look so fragile lol. These were short, so hope you enjoy!

Update: here’s part 2 with the other Undateables!

The Brothers and Diavolo Reacting to Doll!MC

Lucifer

...maybe he made a mistake in picking you for the exchange program after all

You just look so delicate, and just so pure. 

You have definitely made cute little snacks and brought it to him while he locked himself in the office with paperwork

He lowkey highkey likes it no matter how he brushes it off with the usual thanks. Keep doing it, MC, he really appreciates it

When you get in trouble and he gives you the usual lectures, he can’t look into your eyes for long

Geez, he already can’t stay mad at you for long but now he can just feel his resolve cracking

If you get hurt oh Diavolo prepare for helicopter parent Lucifer

As soon as you accidently cut yourself in the kitchen (it would be the tiniest cut, barely noticeable),  you’re no longer allowed in the kitchen unsupervised and can’t handle anything with a sharp end (whether its a butter knife or kid proof scissors that would be safe for Luke to use unsupervised)

“Let me do it for you, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Lucifer, thank you but I’ll be okay. It’s just a frosting spatula it’s not sharp-”

Will punish his brothers 10x worse and demons 100x more if he finds out you got hurt (doesn’t matter what the injury is, could be so much as a paper cut there will be hell to pay)

Constantly checks on you when he can’t see you in person

Handles you so lightly that you barely feel his touch

Move over Belphie, you’re the baby of the house now 

Mammon

Protective x100000

Is still tsudere around you, but doesn’t insult you as much

Who are you kidding as soon as he looks into your cute doe eyes, he forgets what he’s saying 

Complains about having to do stuff for you but doesn’t mind at all really. He loves it because it feels like you’re depending on him, and that makes him feel worth something.

“C’mon human, let the Great Mammon carry your books! You’re gonna hurt yourself and I don’t feel like hearing Lucifer’s mouth today!”

It was just your planner and a small recipe book that Luke gave you, and it weighed less than 10 pounds but okay. You don’t complain either when you see that he genuinely wants to help and do these things

Basically your loud guard dog and secret service agent rolled into one

He’s gotten into trouble more than once for “protecting you”. A student barely bumped your shoulder and Mammon already tackled him. Lucifer was not pleased (but he secretly understood)

He can’t help it that you’re weak and surrounded by hungry demons! It’s a pain to go through this much effort to just protect you, since you look so helpless

MC he’s just worried that you easily break if a demon so much as breathes on you but he likes that he can protect you because he knows that he can keep you safe. You’re just too cute and sweet okay??

Also stand in his room after watching a horror movie to freak him out and he’ll be sounding like Mariah Carey lmao

Leviathan

RURI-CHAN IS THAT YOU??!

Is for sure having an otaku/weaboo freakout moment

You blend in with figurines so well, every time you come into his room he asks you to stand next to them so he can feel that his collection is complete 

He does it sometimes when he streams so people can think he has a rare limited-edition life sized doll that they can’t get. Makes him feel superior 

DRESSING YOU UP IN COSPLAY 100%

You’re like an anime character but in real life and he does not know how to handle it 

Can’t stare into your eyes, it makes them too flustered because he’s used to seeing it in his otome games and not from an actual person that he likes

Who needs maid cafes when he has you? You even dress and make anime themed desserts (once he built up the courage to ask you to make it for him)

Has to calm his beating heart every time he talks to you, you’re too precious for him MC! 

Your like his very own idol, minus the singing and dancing. However, if you can sing and dance....

Levi.exe has stopped working 

Satan

Thought you were a real doll until you introduced yourself

He really thought that someone brought you to life Pinocchio style

You looked like a princess from the many stories that he read, and he was smitten

Treated you so graceful and elegant like until he had his rage moments, which he told you to stay far, far, far away from him until he calmed down completely

Secretly placed a hex on you to where if someone tried to attack you or touch you with harmful intentions, they would be somehow be subjected to looking at their worst fear

You were wondering why that random stranger was just staring wide at you with extensive terror, but then you saw Satan grinning, so you left it alone. You thought it was just some weird demon thing

Loved when you made him cat-themed desserts

If you wore cat ears while doing it, he will turn extremely red

If you meow for him, he won’t know how to handle himself 

Asmodeus

You are just the cutest thing he has ever laid his eyes on!!

Besides from himself of course, don’t get it twisted he’s still #1

He has most definitely had more than one photoshoot done with you both. And you guys have been trending on the Devilgram a couple of times already

Really you guys trend at least twice a month, and his fans love you!

They always ask where he got the doll from but he always laughs and says that “it’s a secret”

Imagine their shock when they see you walking and talking at RAD, some are amazed and some are downright scared

Fashion shows! 

He lives for dressing you up in cute clothes. Your style already suited you and he had great tastes so the new outfits he got you were just *chef’s kiss*

The cute little desserts that you made for him, he always posted it on the Devilgram before he ate it. They were just so cute MC and he couldn’t not show his fans!

Is the most careful brother when it comes to keeping you out of danger. He refused to let his body or skin damaged, and he wasn’t about to let it happen to you either! You are both way too dainty and fragile to let anything happen

Also spa days and self-care nights weekly!

You’re the perfect match made just for him MC

He finally has someone that can understand his struggle of being beautiful, bless you MC

Beelzebub

Soft boy is scared of touching you :(

He towers over you, and he’s scared to even be near you

It takes some time, but he starts to warm up to you

Is always gentle with you, no matter the scenario

Holding hands? He is hardly gripping your hand, said hand fitting loosely in his

Getting hugs? He’s meagerly holding you, not wanting to crush you

You once complained to Beel that it wasn’t fair to get half done hugs (if you were hugging, you were getting a real hug, not a scared one). 

He made you swear that if he was hurting you to let him know, so now you have your very own signal to use for him just in case

He was very tempted to wrap you in bubble wrap and just carry you around like that

He LOVES your sweets, even more than Luke’s and Barbatos’

No matter the size, he loves them, mainly because you made them and it was made with love, just for him

It always makes him feel so warm inside, and he doesn’t feel his appetite gnawing at him like usual

No one is dumb enough to try anything with you both in his presence and not, unless they want to end up either a: deep into the ground or b: into his stomach

You just make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he just loves everything about you. He just loves you

Belphegor

Hm, you look cute 

For a human

Acts like he doesn’t care, but you’ve caught him blushing before (he still does it too)

Won’t outright admit that you’re charming in your own little way, but he does in his sarcastic way like usual

“MC, you’re such a half-pint. You’re like my personal sized teddy bear.”

Has cuddled with you like you were his personal teddy bear (and still does, but you don’t complain at all)

Has a secret sweet tooth and eat your desserts whenever you make it just for him (and he doesn’t even share it with Beel, that monster)

Demons just have to look Belphie in the eyes, watch him flex his claws, and they all of a sudden forget about whatever they were planning. Good

He hates that you look so fragile, but at the same time he kinda likes it

You just look so soft, and you’re just so kind

It makes him feel like he’s protecting and caring for you, and that makes him feel calm and peaceful 

Please make sure that he’s okay MC, he’s scared that he’s gonna mess up again

Diavolo

The Prince of Hell is both surprised and pleased at your appearance

Do all humans look this charming or is it just you??

If someone as soft as you can survive living and going to school with demons, then this is great

Knew that you weren’t a doll, but still liked to admire you like one

Has asked more than once for pictures, you are just too enchanting!

Wants to have a portrait painted of you so he can hang it up in the castle

LOVES you baking for him! Loves when Barbatos does it too (even though it is kinda part of his job), but it feels different with you. It feels...domestic in a sense. Makes him feel like Diavolo, your friend and very interested in being your boyfriend, instead of Lord Diavolo, the prince that will be residing over Hell in the future

No one would be foolish enough to hurt you. If someone was, they wouldn’t even get the chance to lift a finger before they were directly dealing with him. Don’t take his kindness for weakness, he still is a demon after all, the future King of Hell to be exact

Was scared of touching you at first, but quickly grew out of it! He can handle his own strength, and you guys also have a signal to use just in case he does squeeze a little too tight

Will want to dress you up in royal clothes (if you were okay with it). Nothing is wrong with your current style, as a matter of fact it suits you! He basically just wants to play a fancy game of dress up/have a fashion show with royal clothing

Will take 100s of photos, no exaggeration

Asmo will be jealous, so be warned

Plus, he wants to know how his future lover/ruler would look in a crown so he can start taking measurements. You can never be too ready, right MC?

[therenlover]

Therenlover’s Official Fanfic Glossary!

Hey hey hey! This is the place where you can find all my up-to-date fanfics linked nicely, read about what projects I have upcoming, and learn what requests I’m taking at the moment! Cheers!

This post is massive so, for the sake of your dash, everything is under the cut

A NOTE ABOUT REQUESTS!

I will do my best to fulfill any requests I get while my ask box/requests are open! That being said, I cannot promise every request will get done, and that if they do, they’ll be done in a timely manner. I’m currently working on a long-form project that needs a lot of time and energy to come out consistently, so unless I’m doing a writing event most of my writing juice will be focused on that. That being said, if you want something ask! The worst I can possibly do is direct you towards someone else who might be able to write what you want if I cant.

If I choose not to do your request based on personal preference (it makes me uncomfy/I don’t write for the character at that time/I don’t feel I can write what you want/etc.) I will do my best to contact you and let you know! That being said, if you think your ask got buried/forgotten, feel free to message me again and let me know, but please tell me when you message me if I should be looking for a prior request.

Characters/Fandoms I will write for currently

 💙 = I’m Currently Super Inspired To Write For This Character

Marvel/X-Men

Bucky Barnes

Loki

Peter Maximoff 💙

Pietro Maximoff

Helmut Zemo 💙

Hank McCoy

Ralph Bohner 💙

Vision

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

Kit Walker 💙

Kyle Spencer (Pre- and Post- Death)

Jimmy Darling 💙

James Patrick March 💙

Kai Anderson

Fallout 4

Nick Valentine

Hancock

Star Wars

Poe Dameron

Armitage Hux 💙

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

Finn

Han Solo

Assorted/Random

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne - FGO

Cu Chulainn/Cu Alter - FGO

Warren Lipka - American Animals 💙

Enjolras - Les Miserables

Grantaire - Les Miserables

Gabriel - Supernatural

Imagines - REQUESTS CLOSED

Songs From Musicals Y/N Would Sing To The Evans

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

How The Evans (+ Quicksilver) Would React To Yoplait’s New Gushers Yogurt

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Rory Monahan, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Headcanons - REQUESTS CLOSED

Modern! AU Armitage Hux Boyfriend Headcanons

Zemo With A Well Dress S/O Headcanons

Zemo Getting Jealous Headcanons

Oneshots - REQUESTS CLOSED

Marvel/X-Men

Helmut Zemo

One Last Night In Madripoor

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4200~

Still Some Catching Up To Do

Synopsis: As a member of the criminal underworld, people walk out of your life all the time. Some are killed, others kill themselves, most get caught and only a couple get out of the life unscathed, disappearing into the world never to be seen again. Very few walk back in. So when your supposedly incarcerated ex-lover, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon waltzed through your door and made you murder your boss, needless to say, you were surprised and more than a little bit pissed.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 6800~

Nine Years Starved

Synopsis: It had been a little over nine years since Helmut Zemo lost his family, his country, and his sanity. Nine years since his last kiss. Nine years since he felt like a human man. Finally, he was ready to start over again, but first, he had to pay his penance back where it all began; Novi Grad. That’s when, by the grace of the fates, he met you.

Rating: G

Word Count: 7000~

Daddy Dearest

Synopsis: Not everyone gets lucky enough to go from being a broke college student in New York to being the sugar baby to literal royalty, but not everyone is you. Most people would be worried about messing things up or losing him to someone else, but you knew he would never find another baby just like you. Besides, you knew exactly what to do to keep him wrapped around your little finger. He may have been the daddy, but you pulled the reins.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 8000~

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs

Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four

Synopsis: As a wanted man, Helmut Zemo spends most of his time jumping from place to place in the hopes of avoiding a trip back to prison. Unfortunately, that means he can’t always be home in your arms. When he is, though, in the rare moments of calm, you’re reminded of just how worth it it’s been to wait, even if that wait was only shortened by the arrival of your enemies.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 35,700~

Two Bodies In The Rain

Synopsis: It was raining the day you finally had to admit your feelings to Helmut. You hated to tell him the way you did, under the grey skies as your blood pooled below you, but at least you knew, in the end, he had seen the real you, even just once. That was enough.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5600~

Rest

Synopsis: Living life on the lam with your escaped super-villain lover means things rarely slow down enough for a real rest. When the exhaustion starts to take its toll on you, though, he knows exactly what to do to ease the pain. He may not be a good man, but he’s a good husband when it counts.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3200~

American Horror Story

Jimmy Darling

Red Nights In Jupiter

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3000~

James Patrick March

Heartsick

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3700~

In Sickness And In Health

Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5500~

Fallout 4

Currently Empty

Star Wars

Currently Empty

Assorted/Random

Currently Empty

Long Form Works/Series

Young Artist!Zemo AU

Chapter One: The Boy With The Easel

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Rating: T

Word Count: 7000~

Till Forever Falls Apart (A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Chapter One: Welcome Home

Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2400~

Chapter Two: The Doctor Is In

Synopsis: Peter’s first few days in his new home are mostly uneventful, so he decides it’s the perfect time to dust off his running goggles and steal some shit. The building with the massive circular stained glass window seems like a great place to start! People with buildings that lavish are usually rich and weak, so what could possibly go wrong?

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800~

Chapter Three: It’s Always Been You

Synopsis: After a month of adapting to his new universe, Peter Maximoff can confidently say that he likes his new life more than his old one. Sure, he misses home sometimes, but he’s been far too busy flirting with his new roommate to spend time crying over the things he’s lost. Everything is smooth sailing until a strange journal in his roommate’s study leaves him with more questions than he knows what to do with. Now he’s on a mission to discover who he’s really living with before she has the chance to turn against him.

Rating: T

Word Count: 8600~

Chapter Four: Before You Go

Synopsis: Peter, after days of contemplation, has realized that part of him loves Y/N no matter what she is or what she’s been through. Unfortunately, he can’t find her anywhere. When she finally returns home with the intention of leaving again, Peter realizes it’s his last chance to tell her how he really feels. Will he succeed, or will he fail to be fast enough once again?

Rating: T

Word Count: 4000~

Chapter Four And A Half: Gimme Swayze

Synopsis: Now that the issue of Y/N leaving is out of the way, and Peter has finally kissed her, he falls into the motions of learning how to love someone for the first time. It’s easier than he thought it would be.

Rating: T

Word Count; 2600~

Cakes For The Evans: A Blogging And Baking Adventure!

Kai Anderson’s Disaster Cake

Hey you! If you’ve made it this far down the list, thanks for supporting me as an author! I’ll be linking my AO3 here. I post everything there shortly before I post it here, and there are some older fics there you might enjoy along the way! It’s also easier to drop comments over there and I keep them open for non-members, so give me a shout if you liked what I wrote!

I love you all, you make me so happy, and without you support I would never be motivated to write! Cheers!

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 26 - The Higher Realm

The Higher realm continues. So close to the end!

Master post linked here

Enjoy!

______________________________

Time passed, but it was difficult to tell how much. Time worked so differently in the different realms. How long did we really spend trying to save one lower realm? Minutes? Decades? It felt like no time and forever. Adonis and I traveled to lower realm after lower realm, fixing the stories, stabilizing the world before heading back to the higher realm.

Some lower realms were easy, if a bit annoying, such as the high school dramas. In those I would often play the “average” new girl at a school. I would meet new people, and was supposed to go on to have romance, betrayals and coming of age realizations. I quickly realized that befriending all my supposed romantic leads instead of dating them, reconciling with my rivals instead of humiliating them, and pushing towards success all together was a much more satisfying strategy. Fortunately, graduating valedictorian with a happy and psychologically healthy group of teenagers often stabilized worlds that had been torn apart by half-baked character design or infighting between rivals.

I took calculus so many times that I could recite lessons in my sleep, but at least the worlds were saved. Despite our success, however, Adonis was often frustrated. He had his own vision of how we were to save these realms. His plans almost always involved us dating, making the high school romance “successful”.

I refused.

He had been a lot more likable since our first meeting, and I was able to consider him a close friend and ally… but I felt uncomfortable at the idea of even pretending to have a romantic relationship. It was definitely a more difficult route to stabilize the world without a romance, but I chose it every time. Adonis pouted and complained, but couldn’t argue with success, and I was successful.

Some lower realms were more difficult. In particular, zombie apocalypse stories were my least favorites. The worlds often couldn’t be stabilized until a cure was found or humanity’s survival was assured. This meant that Adonis and I sometimes spent decades within these realms, working to build armies, or teams of scientists. There was hardly ever any running water, which meant showering was few and far between.

My unwashed self was made even filthier by my absolute failure at using anything with range. Bow and arrow, guns… anything that would keep me out of the gore, I couldn’t hit even the largest of monsters. Fortunately I picked up a sword with relative ease, which allowed me to fight… but this also meant I got covered in rotten blood and guts.

I hated zombie worlds the most.

Realm after realm. We worked constantly, spending very little time in between in the higher realms. Adonis would often try to use those moments to push his ideas regarding fate and the higher realm’s story, but as soon as I rejected him, which I did every time, he would simply scowl and pull us into the next lower realm to save.

It was getting old.

“How many lower realms are there?” I asked one evening as we recovered from our latest mission, rubbing my sore shoulder where I had taken a blow in the last sci-fi alien battle. The wounds disappeared with the realm traveling, but my mind still could feel the wound, projecting the pain long after I had left that form behind.

Adonis leaned back in his chair, his grin a little too bitter to be a natural expression. “How many unfinished stories are there? Infinite, Bel. There are infinite lower realms. We will never be able to save them all. Not like this.”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of options.”

“There are options. You just don’t want to hear them.”

“What, this fate you keep talking about?” I sighed, closing my eyes, tired. “ It sounds like a terrible idea.”

“It’s not.” His voice was quiet, but the intensity shown through all the same. “It’s our duty. Everyone’s survival depends on it.”

“But what you’re saying is: we follow along some sort of script…”

“Fate.”

“…fate… here, in the higher realm. And that is somehow supposed to fix the lower realms?”

He chuckled. “You’re oversimplifying it, but pretty much. We follow our fate, and the heroes of the lower realms will find their happiness tied to ours.”

“What if they don’t want that ending? What if they don’t want that happiness?”

“Of course they do! Everyone wants a happily ever after with their destined one.” He snapped. My eyes flickered open to study his enraged expression.

“I don’t.”

“You’re selfish!”

I shrugged. “Am I? If you’re right, we submit to fate here, everyone in the lower realms gets an automatic happy ending… but most of those worlds aren’t breaking because they don’t have a happy ending. They need a wider world, different ideas… and what about the side characters, even the villains… what about their happiness?”

“They don’t matter.”

“Why not?” I raised an eyebrow. “Just because they’re the villains?”

“They’re evil.” He stood up, trying to tower over me. An intimidation tactic, one that might have worked before we’d spent countless years fighting in life-or-death battles together.

“Have you met the heroes and heroines of some of these realms?” I laughed. “They’re not much better. I don’t think these roles are as clear as you would like them to be. And I don’t think you and I having a happy ending together, and forcing a simplistic ‘and they lived happily ever after’ on all the lower realms will actually fix them. In fact…” I stood up, and he stepped back slightly at the danger in my tone. “I bet we would break them all the more. Are you really so foolish as to think that saving a universe of worlds would be so simple?”

“…” Adonis was gritting his teeth, his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. But I didn’t back down. Didn’t step back. I knew he wouldn’t hit me. He wouldn’t dare step out of the role he imagined himself to be in. Wouldn’t dare cross a line that might ruin his chances at the happy ending he seemed to crave so desperately.

“…” The silence stretched on between us. We were at an impasse. He wanted to follow fate. He wanted clearly defined roles and rules to follow. And I?

I wanted freedom.

*** Soul transfer 11% complete. ***

It’s been forever since I last saw those words… I thought it had disappeared. For some reason, I felt a deep sense of relief at the glowing blue sentence. Something within me had frozen during these many trips to the lower realms, but finally it was growing again.

“The next world is waiting.” Adonis spoke up, his tone flat. I noticed an odd shifting of his gaze, a reluctance to meet my own, and felt a sense of unease.

I won’t like this next world. I cracked my knuckles and gave him a thumbs up. Well, no sense running from a challenge.

We left.

______________________________

I woke up in a luxurious canopy bed. Staring up at the fabric , I raised my arms and have a cheer.

“YES! NOT A ZOMBIE WORLD!”

On the downside, the setting appeared to be a more primitive era, medieval at best, which meant no running water, but at least I appeared to be noble or wealthy.

At least if I suffer, I’ll be clean while I do it!

“Princess?” A young woman dressed as a servant entered the room, seeming very confused. “Are you all right? I heard you yelling.”

I smiled brightly at her. “No worries. It was just a nightmare.”

She visibly relaxed. “Even so, you seem in a much better mood, if I may say so.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you haven’t broken a single thing this morning.” She, unfortunately did not seem to be kidding. “I’m so glad you’ve accepted your father’s decision.

I didn’t have my character’s memories yet. I needed to accept the mission first. In the meantime, acting too out of character could destabilize an already poorly functional world.

“I’m still… thinking it over.” I spoke up cautiously.

“It’s not so bad, your highness.” She smiled at me. “Most young girls feel a little uneasy when their father arranges their husband. But you’ll be happy. I just know it.”

Arranged marriage?

“After all, Prince Harold is reported to be a true gentleman, a might warrior, and a handsome young man!” She sighed dreamily. “Any woman would be thrilled for a chance to be his bride.”

“I’m. Sure.” I spoke through gritted teeth, the satin sheets crumpling in my grip. Adonis, when I find you, I’m going to make you regret every life decision you’ve ever made… and the ones you’ve only considered making. What kind of lower realm did you land us in? As I plotted my revenge, the mission screen popped up.

**** NEW WORLD: A Divided Kingdom****

This is a romance fantasy story featuring a prince and a princess from different kingdoms, putting aside their differences to save the world.

“I already don’t like this.” I muttered.

The Princess Alaire of the Yenlar Kingdom was a clever, independent woman, horrified at the idea of an arranged marriage. Prince Harold of the Bestion Kingdom felt differently. He fell in love at first sight and vowed to woo the young maiden. The couple was different in almost every way, and seemed destined to bicker and fight.

“Then how about we don’t get married?”

But fate had other plans…

“Of course it did!”

A terrifying beast threatened to destroy both their kingdoms, and to survive, the political marriage had to go forward. Uniting the kingdoms, and therefore their armed forces, was the only way to save their people.

However, despite the happy ending, the first book was not well received by readers and the trilogy was abandoned due to poor sales. The reason given was that the romance was “forced” and unbelievable.

Your mission is to bring a satisfying end to the story, while making ensuring the survival of both kingdoms.

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

“Quick question.” I spoke quietly to the glowing words in front of me. “Do I have to marry the prince to ensure an ending?”

The kingdoms will not unite without the political marriage.

“That wasn’t what I asked. I asked if I HAVE to marry the prince. What if I can save both kingdoms without a political marriage?”

The stability of the world is all that matters.

“No lecture on the necessity of fate?”

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

I grinned. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

As the words faded away, I jumped out of bed. My head spun slightly as I accepted the memories from the poor princess of the original story.

She had not been happy.

She had dreams, ambitions. The Kingdom of Yenlar allowed for women to inherit the throne, and as the firstborn she was ready to take over from her father, to rule her nation. She had spent her entire life preparing. Studying law, economics, warfare…

And all of it had meant nothing in the end.

She had begged for a political treaty. One that did not involve marriage. The Kingdom of Bestion had refused to even discuss it. They stated that there was too much distrust between the kingdoms to move forward without some sort of permanent assurance. Even the threat of annihilation from the ancient beast of legend wasn’t enough to have them reconsider. That wasn’t the full story, though.

Later she discovered that Prince Harold had seen her at a party. He had supposedly fallen in love with her at first sight, and became determined to marry her. He had learned of her plans to marry a minor noble, one who would support her position on the throne without causing an imbalance of power within the nobility. He had no chance, as far as she was concerned. The threatened destruction of their people was just the perfect opportunity to force the matter.

She had lost all power. Becoming a figurehead, a beautiful statue beside the true king, Harold. He ruled over both nations with an iron fist, treating her own people more harshly, much to the approval of his staff. She slowly became bitter and deranged, watching the destruction of the people and the nation she loved so dearly.

Beyond the end of the first book, when the realm’s story ended, she had attempted to poison him and failed. Harold had been disappointed, but felt that she still had use as a figurehead. They faked a stroke, and kept her mute and weak with poisons. A lovely doll. A perfect figurehead.

…is this a fantasy or a horror? Sheesh, no wonder the trilogy wasn’t going to sell. I shuddered, still standing awkwardly next to the beautiful bed that had belonged to a lovely young woman.

I will change this story. I spoke silently to the memories, feeling a sense of relief that didn’t belong to me as I did so.

First, let’s try to reason with Adonis. He and I had worked together in multiple realms, side by side. We were friends. We may not see eye to eye when it came to our approach towards fate and the lower realms, but he had never forced me to do something I didn’t want. He had always respected me and backed off when I said no, even if it made him unhappy.

Hopefully this time will be the same. I thought uneasily. Hopefully he will listen.

______________________________

“No.” His tone was gleeful, but his face was calm, towing with a silver goblet rather than meeting my gaze.

“Are you joking?” I leaned forward, keeping a gentle smile on my face to fool the guards and our fathers who sat on the other end of the enormous dining table.

“I’m perfectly serious, Princess Alaire. Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to work together. We can only work together if we trust each other. The only way the Kingdom of Bestion will trust the Kingdom of Yenlar is with a marriage alliance. It’s out of my hands.”

I reached forward and took the cup from his hands, forcing him to look at me. “Why are you forcing this, Adonis? You know it didn’t work out so well for the originals.”

“Careful Princess.” His eyes glanced over at the nearby guards. “You don’t want anything to destabilize the situation further, now do you? Better to act as a proper princess should.”

“Answer the question. This plan already failed. Why do you think it will work?”

“Simple.” He leaned forward and plucked the goblet back from my hands. “We’re different. You may not want to admit it, but we have spent lifetimes at each other’s side. Growing up, going to school, facing enemies, fighting together… we could make this work. It would be a wonderful ending.”

“You know what happened to Alaire after the first book.”

“I would never do that to you.”

“But you are.” I growled, wishing I could punch him. “You are trying to make me a beautiful figurehead, just like Harold did to Alaira.”

“We would rule side by side.”

“What use is that promise, if you are already ignoring my wishes and forcing me to do this in the first place?”

He shook his head. “You have to trust me. This is the only way we can defeat the monster, and stabilize this realm. We’ll save this world. Together.” He smiled. “It’s our fate.”

I threw a plate at him, forcing him to fling himself on the floor to avoid injury. Walking out, I ignored my father’s shouts of rage. Picking up a bag I had packed ahead of time, just in case, I changed into some light armor, grabbed a sword, and headed out into the forest.

If I couldn’t win by a political alliance, I was going to find another way to save the world.

I was going monster hunting.

I searched Princess Alaira���s memories of the legends and stories, going out in a northern direction towards the area known as Death Valley.

As I marched onward, my thoughts wandered over the time I had spent since I had woken up in the Higher Realm. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed with Adonis. He might truly think that he was saving the world by insisting on going through with the marriage, but his lack of willingness to even consider other options was frustrating. He was the only person consistently by my side through every one of these worlds, someone I considered a friend, and being unable to rely on him served to make me feel all the lonelier.

My mind briefly touched on the assassin of the first realm, Liam. I had thought with his comments and actions that he had known about my mission… that he might be from the higher realm too. But no matter how much I looked for him, no matter how much I hoped to see him again, I never did.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was someone from the lower realm, and I’ll never have the chance to see him, to thank him.

I felt a sense of despair. How long can I keep doing this? Is this why Adonis preaches following our fate so much? Is he as tired of traveling, tired of the missions and the different lives? Is he just hoping to end all this?

I sighed, keeping moving. I’m not that tired, not tired enough to sacrifice my freedom. Not yet, anyways.

It took several days of traveling. Fortunately from my years of experience in zombie worlds, I was well prepared to survival in the wilderness. At least here the rivers were clean, allowing me to bathe occasionally. Finally I was at the entrance of the valley, staring up at the pillars on either side.

There were ominous words carved deeply into the stone.

Only death lies ahead.

I stared at the words silently for a few moments, and then shrugged.

“Still better than marrying Adonis.”

I moved forward.

______________________________

The valley was dark, a deep fog settled in permanently, apparently unaffected by the weather beyond its borders. Dark twisted purple trees rose all around me, their roots tearing through the earth desperate searching for nutrients. The valley was quiet, suffocating in an unsettling silence. My presence there felt like an intrusion, my instincts screaming at me to run away, to escape.

I kept moving.

There were no other signs of life. But I knew at least one other being lived here, the reason why nothing else dared to.

The Ancient beast.

There were no descriptions of it in the legends. Just that it was deadly, enough to take on entire armies. And that it was terrifying.

I feel like I should have seen something by now, if it was so large. I sighed, sitting on one of the trees, staring up at the mountain ahead of me. Shouldn’t it be easier to find an enormous beast that terrified an entire world?

…

Wait.

I looked up, struggling to see the top of the mountain in front of me.

I’m in a valley…

The mountain moved up and down, with regular motions.

There shouldn’t be a mountain here.

It was breathing.

I drew my sword, inwardly despairing. I had underestimated the sheer scale of the monster. I had thought it would be the size of a house, an elephant. Instead it towered stories above me, unimaginably large.

I was doomed.

There was a rumble as the beast in front of me shifted. I couldn’t tell the shape, just an impression of scales and spikes. Slowly, something lowered down in front of me, stretching forward in all directions, filling my vision. I saw teeth larger than my own body, the white of them contrasting with the dark fog around us. As I prepared myself for my death, an eye opened to stare at me.

It was a beautiful dark blue.

“…”

Suddenly, I felt relief. It was incomprehensible. I was standing in front of an ancient beast, enormous and terrifying, and instead of fear and dread… I felt safe.

I raised a hand, almost despite myself. “Hello there.”

The eye blinked. I comforted myself that it hadn’t eaten me yet.

“I think you look awesome. I’m Princess Alaira from the nearby kingdom of Yenlar. I actually came here to kill you, to protect my people… but now I realize that you could crush me like an ant, and that was a bad plan.”

The eye blinked twice. It seemed more confused than anything.

“I have a much better plan, if you would be willing to listen to me.” I let out a laugh, slightly startled at how… villainous it sounded.

*** Soul transfer 20% complete. ***

The creature let out a sound like thunder. I felt that it was laughing too.

______________________________

The wedding was this morning.

I was surprised as I drew near to see the party going. You would think that after I disappeared, they might have canceled or delayed it. I assumed that Adonis had felt sure that I would agree with him in the end. That I wouldn’t be able to let the world end just because I didn’t want to marry him.

Well too bad, buddy. This princess has a different plan in mind!

I could see him, standing on the elevated stage before two thrones, waiting. I couldn’t see his expression from this distance, but I imagine he was barely hiding his worry. Alaire’s father and Harold’s father were also waiting on the platform, their postures betraying their impatience.

“Let’s get this party started!” I yelled.

ROOOOOOOAAAAAAR!

The ancient beast let out a triumphant roar as he flew closer and lowered his head, letting me jump down onto the platform before landing behind me, a large, threatening mountain of a creature.

“Alaire?” The king called out, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Hello, Father.” I also nodded to Adonis, who stared back.

“What is this?”

“Your daughter is a witch!” The King of Bestion shouted, drawing his ceremonial sword. “She betrayed us!”

“Hold on, father.” Adonis held out his hand, stopping his attack. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

I grinned.

“Nope. It’s exactly what it looks like. I’ve teamed up with the Ancient being. We’re friends now.” I gestured at the monster high above us, who let out a grim chuckle, shaking the ground. “So now I make the rules, got it?”

“…”

“I’ll take everyone’s stunned silence as happy agreement! Now, first rule: Wedding canceled.”

“What?”

“What?”

“You can’t do this!”

The three other royals on stage shouted simultaneously. I simply pointed again at the enormous creature.

“I can do whatever I want. The big scary monster behind me says so. Next, the kingdom of Bestion will surrender to me, as will the kingdom of Yenlar.”

“You want to rule the world?” Adonis’s gaze was… disappointed. I grinned shamelessly. “Nope. But here’s the thing: Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to convince the monster not to kill us. The monster only trusts me. So I have to rule both kingdoms.” I shrugged. “It’s out of my hands.”

I threw his words from earlier back at him, and felt satisfied as he winced in recognition.

“We… surrender.” His words were quiet, defeated.

“You unruly child!” My father tried to shout, but a roar from the monster above us silenced him. He quickly surrendered too. I accepted both surrenders, quickly organizing the meetings to bring our governments together under one rule. Fortunately, the princess’s years of study served me well, guiding me smoothly through the process.

______________________________

I had one more confrontation with Adonis, the night before the coronation. He was escorted to my rooms by guards, saying he had a request. I hesitated briefly, but allowed him in, waving the guards behind the door so we could speak freely.

“What was that?” He shouted as soon as they had left.

I stayed sitting, forcing myself to be calm. “I fixed the story.”

“You ruined everything! Even if it stabilizes this world, it will ruin it in the long run.”

“Says you.”

“Trust me.” He threw up his hands as he paced back and forth. “Everything will go a lot smoother if you STOP CHANGING THE STORY.”

“I thought that was why we were here, though?” I sighed, leaning back in my chair and cleaning my nails with a blade. “To fix the lower realms, to save these worlds? That requires change, right?”

He paused in his movements, glaring at me. “Stop acting stupid. These worlds are broken because they didn’t follow the rules. We have to follow them perfectly.”

“I don’t want to though.” I shuddered. “No offense, but if the story is going to require us to have a romantic relationship, I’m finding an alternate solution.”

“That’s what the story requires, you have your role to play. You know the consequences of not playing the right part.”

I sighed. “No, there’s always different paths to take. You’re a good friend, and I’m glad to have you by my side, but that’s different than love.”

“…”

“You clearly don’t love me either, so why are you making such a fuss about this? As long as we complete what we came here to do, that’s all that matters, right?”

“…”

“Right?”

Adonis stepped closer to me, his atmosphere slightly threatening. “Why are you so different from what you are supposed to be?”

“What are you…?”

“Why can’t you just accept.”

His hand grabbed my wrist, the grip painful.

“your.”

He pulled me closer until our faces were inches apart. His bright blue eyes were blazing with anger as they stared into my own.

“fate.”

Letting me go, he walked away, putting some distance between us, before turning back to face me.

“This lower realm is stabilized. We should return.” His smile was cold. “The next mission is a little different from our previous ones. We’ll talk about it later.”

“…”

“And next time…?” He laughed, a bitter sound. “You’ll play your part whether you want to or not.”

THUD.

The blade in my hand threw through the air, stabbing into the wall inches from his face. I smiled cheerfully as he looked back at me, shocked.

“Try touching me again, and I’ll cut off something you’ll miss. We’ll discuss missions and roles again in the higher realm, but for now?” I rang a bell and guards came in, escorting him out. “I have a coronation to plan.”

______________________________

My coronation was held outside so that the Ancient beast could stand behind me. It seemed cheerful, letting out victorious roars and swaying from side to side. The people cheered as well, seeming a lot happier than I expected them to be. I guess they’re relieved that they won’t be eaten by the giant monster? I wondered idly how I was going to incorporate the creature into the day to day life of a monarch. For an odd reason I had very little doubt that the monster would stick around.

However, all my plans came to nothing. As the crown was placed on my head, bright blue words formed in the air in front of me:

100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

It was time to go.

At little sad, I looked up at the ancient monster above me. “Thank you, friend for your help. I wish I could stay with you longer.”

A mournful cry echoed through the world. It seemed to understand that I was leaving. Before I could say anything more to reassure it, the world around me shimmered and disappeared.

Only to reveal a furious Adonis standing in front of me.

“Happy now, Your Majesty?” He sneered.

“Oof, someone’s still a little angry that I used an ancient monster conquer the world. Believe it or not, I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you. But you know why I did what I did. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

I walked away, feeling his glare on my back long after I was out of sight.

______________________________

When I woke up, I realized that I couldn't move.

I panicked, struggling to move my arms and legs, only managing to turn my head slightly. Enough to see Adonis’s smug expression as he sat by my bed.

“It’s time for our story to progress, Bel.” His smile was strange, twisted. I couldn’t talk back, I shook my head slightly side to side.

“I’m the hero, you are the heroine. If the relationship between us can’t be advanced by working together, than it must be forged in adversity." He reached down and picked me up, carrying me out of the small cottage I had arranged for myself and into the castle courtyard. Whatever drug he had injected me with was slowly wearing off, and I struggled in his arms, finally able to shout.

“Put me down!”

To my surprise he did, and although I struggled to stay upright, I kept my balance and glared at him.

“What are you planning?”

He sighed quietly. “I’m tired of always being the one to compromise. It’s time for you to make a sacrifice, Bel. I’ve avoided this so far, worried that progressing our story this way would kill you, but it seems that it is our fate that we take this risk. It’s… unfortunate. I do very much hope you don’t die.” He paused, trying to smile at me. “Don’t worry. It’s only temporary. I’ll come and rescue you soon.”

“A sacrifice?” I felt cold, even as I stood in the warm afternoon sun. My thoughts were slow to form, possibly a side effect of the medication. “Why?”

He shrugged. “There’s an order to everything. Rules. Law. They are all that stand between us and pure chaos. No one can ignore them. Not you. Not even me.”

“Then sacrifice yourself, asshole! Why send me?”

He shrugged. “It’s your role to play, not mine. Your fate.”

“Screw fate! I don’t care if you say it’s temporary or not! Friends don’t sacrifice friends!” I was furious, still weak and feeling helpless.

His hand reached out and brushed my cheek, the touch freezing my skin. I wanted to move away but I could still barely move, only managing to glare at him. “Don’t look at me with those eyes. It’s not my fault. If you want to blame anyone, blame the story.”

“Ad…”

“Sorry, you must accept your fate.” I felt a pinch in my arm, the stick of a needle as he injected something into the muscle. Immediately darkness overwhelmed me.

“We all do.”

Everything faded into darkness.

______________________________

When I woke up, I was in a strange world, surrounded by forest. I lay on my back, still feeling weak, fury coursing through my veins.

Adonis and I had worked well together, despite arguing multiple times in the past. But now… any goodwill I had towards him was gone. He had betrayed me. Knocked me out and sent me to somewhere dangerous, somewhere I could be killed, just to follow his precious fate. To get the story he wanted.

“Are you lost?

I looked over at the source of the voice. It was a tall young man with dark hair, wearing grey, non-descript clothing. He kneeled down next to me, and I found myself staring into dark blue eyes.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I smiled despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

Liam? Could he be…?

“…Nice to meet you, Liam.” I laughed. “Or should I say: nice to see you again?”

*** Soul transfer 25% complete. ***

[doubledgesword-2]

I just wanted to drop by and say that I really like your writing style and I loved your soulmate AU story so far!

Just wanted to drop a request too since it's open. It might be a weird [kind of contradictory] request but maybe some fluffy yandere hcs/scenarios for the adult trio? If you only want to write for one, would Hisoka or Chrollo be ok?

One big cup of Rose Tea coming right up! WARNING SLIGHT YANDERE TENDENCIES, FLUFF AND NON-CON DRUGGING

I hope these are to your liking, it's my first time writing hcs so I apologize if the characters are a bit OOC. Enjoy your Rose Tea!

Hisoka

We all know Hisoka is low-key already yandere...I mean, look at his lustful half-lidded eyes and his tongue licking his lips. 

You're an innocent little peach in his eyes, and he wants to keep it that way. This means all his blood-related business and quirks are hidden from you, but you're bound to find some bloodstains on one of his shirts.

"Oh that, mmhhh just a little accident with some wine, (Y/N)-Chan. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about"

Do not look at his phone's gallery unless you want to see how many times he's slipped into your room and watched you sleep or worse... 

It's alright in this scenario if you don't have a powerful nen ability or if you're not strong to fight off anything, he needs you to be so you don't leave him. That doesn't mean he won't tease you to death and try to rile you up so you at least playfully punch him. 

"Oh, Oh, little peach, don't give me that look, you're going to turn me on˜"

Hisoka is touchy-feely and clingy; he will be on you all the TIME to the point of suffocation, and if he isn't touching you, his bungee gum sure is. 

Surprise hugging from behind is a thing. He will tackle you to the ground or unto the bed, and from there is mandatory cuddles, constricting you as a snake would, and it's wise not to refuse him. You're not getting out either way so just accept it. 

"Hisoka, I have to work! Come on, it's important!"

"But I'm more important, right?˜," he says playfully, but there's a sliver of a threat in his undertone as he drawls the last word. 

Definitely, PDA and heated kisses in public; everyone needs to know who you belong to if the hickeys and bite marks are not enough proof, not to mention you wouldn't be able to get far from him; his bungee gum would be on you at all times. 

He's very whimsical, so it might be difficult to differentiate his normal behavior from his obsession. But IF you do get wind of his fascination and try to avoid him, then it's time to move on to more drastic measures. 

"Oh, Hisoka, you baked cookies for me?! They look so good!" you happily say as you bite the first heart-shaped cookie, his eyes never leaving your lips as you lick the crumbs off. 

"Mhhhm, anything for my little fruit is my pleasure." He offers a close eye smile as you hold your lower region; there's a sudden and painful feeling like a liquid fire consuming you from the inside out. But Hisoka just smiles at you as you writhed on the floor from the need. "Since you've been avoiding me lately, I guess you can deal with this by yourself, can you little peach?"

Illumi 

Out of all of them, I feel Illumi is most likely the one to lose control, but he's not lovey-dovey like the other two might be at the occasion. His emotions are more reserved and minimal, which makes them special, and that's how he gets you.

At first, he wouldn't understand why there's a need for you, why he can't seem to be away from you for a long while, or why can't he stop thinking if there's someone else with you at the moment.

This feeling is annoying, but the cure is simple, he just needs to spend time with you, so they'll go away. 

Wrong.

You give him so much love and affection is hard not to be addicted to it after being neglected in that area of his life for so long. The more time he spends with you, the more he needs. He wants longer hugs, longer cuddle sessions, more kisses to the point where it turns plain out possessive. 

lllumi will come by every day to make sure you’re okay and don’t need anything. But the undertone of his visits is to see if you’re still there for him and will never leave him, not that he’ll actually let you, but you know semantics. 

He doesn’t smile much, but when he’s with you the corners of his lips quirk up a bit, and it seems he enjoys being with you and knows something you don’t. 

Will rest his chin on your shoulder and your head while you do things, his arms snaking around your waist, keeping you close to him. He needs to be reassured that you're there and won't leave him. 

If your work is taking all of your time, he will grab your wrists and pull you into his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder, leaving a small peck on your temple. 

"Llumi! I need to submit this by midnight; we can cuddle after that."

"No," there's no explanation or reply, just a simple rejection that sends chills up and down your spine as he places one kiss to the pulse on your neck. 

I don't think you would want to say otherwise while he hugs all of you like a child with his teddybear, suffocating you.

There would be no PDA and no signs of affection in public, but make no mistake; just because he doesn't seem to coddle you in front of everyone doesn't mean you can do whatever and stray away from him. You so much as step outside the line he established to grab a shirt from the racks, and immediately your right to go outside is revoked. 

After that display of possessiveness,  you surely know something's not right here, but it's not like you can go up to him and say so, so you'll try to lessen the amount of time you give him and put that time to do other things. 

Big mistake, one night while working late, he will come in with a nice cup of rose tea, steaming hot and warm to your fingers. You thank him as he sits on the corner of your bed, watching you intently as you take your first sip. 

"Thanks, Llumi, this paper is driving me up a wall." 

"You need to rest; you have been overworking yourself... and neglecting our time together." Your heart drops to your stomach when you lose feeling in your throat; trying to gulp down feels like a hard task all of a sudden. Your head is slowly spinning until it's so heavy you can't keep upright, and he catches you, pulling you close to rest on his chest.

"If you can't take care of yourself and finish your tasks in time to be with me, I'll do it for you."

Chrollo

He wouldn't show signs of the obsession plain out; instead, he will be subtle about it.

"Are you eating healthy? Here have this instead. Don't say up too late working, don't stress, I don't like you wearing that, wear this instead. Read this one instead."

All these are normal, right? But he's slowly trying to mold you into his perfect image of you. 

Still, he's charming and gentlemanly about everything; he likes to hold you close no matter where you are, give you hand kisses like a prince and a princess before their dance. 

He's a romantic, giving you forehead kisses when he feels overwhelmed with gratitude for having you in his life. Will read to you while having you rest on his chest as he pets your hair until you fall asleep. Spontaneous waltz in your living room. 

Definitely, would steal for you. He hands you a catalog of several things in a museum or an auction and will tell you to hypothetically pick the ones you like if you had enough money to buy them. To you, it's a pretend game, something for giggles, but for him is all about getting anything you want. 

After months of the reported robberies in said auction, he will come by one day with a nice gift box and guess what's inside. 

"Oh no, I can't accept this, it's too much how did you manage to buy this, you-"

"It's a replica; they were stolen; remember, love, don't worry about it. I know how much you wanted it" He snaps the clasp around your neck as you thank him profusely, not minding that the thing on you is the real deal. 

You will never catch a glimpse into his dirty business, not unless he actually lets himself slip to gauge your reaction. 

"They will never find it," he casually mentions as the news that the objects stolen have not been found. He doesn’t even look up from his book while drawing small circles on your shoulder. You chuckle, sipping your hot chocolate. 

"Come on, don't be that negative; they might one day, and when they do, I would love to see it in person." 

"Why, love, you see it everyday," he chuckles, side glancing at you. 

"That's a replica!" you turn to look at him with a smile, but he isn't smiling; he's not kidding, and you're feeling a bit lightheaded. "Right? Chrollo?"

Your cup falls from your hands as you stumble a bit forward, and he catches you, closing his book. He hugs you close, your head resting in the crook of his neck. 

"Don't worry, my love, you're the best treasure I've had the pleasure of stealing." 

I hope this was good!! 

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 16: Summertime Nightmares (Alt prompt: Consolation/advice)

AO3

Prev

The following week was the last of the school year. And it was...weird to say the least. Some of her classmates were upset that she hadn’t been the one to tell them. Many of them (most) assumed that she’d known and just hadn’t told them. She didn’t want to argue with them and she knew her dad hadn’t announced her existence in Gotham yet, so she just pointed out the fact that the Wayne family was very private.

That mostly worked. Lila kept poking though, insisting that Marinette would have told them if she trusted them. Nino disagreed, which shocked Marinette. He usually believed Lila, or at least he hadn’t ever openly gone against her before. But not this time. This time, he insisted that Marinette trusted them and it was probably her dad who asked her not to say anything. While wrong, Marinette didn’t disagree. She’d let her dad take the fall for this one. Alya though...she wasn’t taking it well. She thought Marinette should have told her ages ago. If she had known before Lila came, maybe she would have told Alya. But Alya had been more lax on what she posts on the Ladyblog since Lila’s arrival. She’d done less research, and was posting things not related to Ladybug and Chat Noir. While that wouldn’t usually bother her, Marinette did not want her newly discovered family to be the next big story on Alya’s blog.

So she basically just kept her head down, kept quiet at the class hangouts. And now school was finally out for the summer. It would be a little over two months with no Lila. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Marinette walks into the bakery and smiles widely at her Maman and Papa.

“Hello honey, how are you?” Her Maman asks, sliding a croissant into her hands.

“I’m fine, Maman.” She says, mentally preparing herself to ask what she’d been avoiding. Her dad had offered to let her stay in Gotham for the summer. It was both a chance to bond, and a chance for him to train her a little so that she could fight better, help her make a case against Hawkmoth, maybe even find his identity. He also wanted to give her a break. He thought that taking a step away from Paris, from always policing her emotions, was in her best interest. She agreed, but she still hadn’t talked to her Maman. Or her Papa.

“Bruce called.” Her Papa says. Marinette freezes. He wasn’t supposed to call yet! “Asked if we’d made a decision about letting you go to Gotham for the summer.” Rats.

“I was gonna talk to you guys today! I didn’t wanna upset you. I love you guys so much, but I also really wanna spend time with the other half of my family because I just met them and we haven’t really had a chance to bond or get to know each other and-”

“Honey, we understand.” Her Maman says, cutting off her ramble with a smile. Marinette blinks.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. She didn’t want to hurt them. Her Maman smiles and relief floods her body.

“Of course honey. It would also give you a chance to not deal with constant akuma attacks.” She says. Marinette squeals in excitement, running over and wrapping her parents in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She yells. Watch out Gotham, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Wayne is coming back!

---

“Why hasn’t Marinette answered yet? She’s always down for a class picnic.” Alya says with a pout. Lila suppresses an eye roll, opting instead for a worried frown.

“Do you think she’s mad at you?” She prompts, knowing exactly why the little brat wasn’t answering. She was supposed to be on a plane right about now. Lila had borrowed Alya’s phone the day before (to make sure Marinette hadn’t tried to say anything about her again) when she saw the text. Marinette would be spending the entire summer in Gotham.

Lila, in a moment of what was surely pure excellence, deleted the text. It was perfect! Alya wouldn’t know Marinette had left and Marinette would be waiting for a text from her stupid BFF. But Lila had thought of that too. She’d changed the phone number on Marinette’s contact in Alya’s phone. It was now set to go to a fake number in a messaging app that Lila spent €1 on each month. It was worth it though, it’d definitely come in handy before. And now all she had to do was wait. Sure Marinette could always text Alya first, but Lila had heard too many times that Alya usually reached out first. Probably because of how much of a scatterbrain Marinette is.

“Why would she be mad at me?” Alya asks with a nervous smile. Hook, line and sinker. Lila frowns and places a hand on Alya’s arm in a faux attempt at reassurance.

“I didn’t wanna say anything, I really shouldn’t.” She says, shaking her head.

“Please. I’ll owe you one!” Alya insists, just as Lila had hoped. This would be a key part of her plan later on. Once Marinette has been silent for a few weeks.

“Well...okay. I heard her talking to Adrien the other day.” Lil starts, using the only other person who could go against her (but won’t!) “She said- she said she couldn’t trust you!” Alya flinches back as if she was hit.

“She said that?” She asks in a small voice. Lila nods sadly, celebrating on the inside. She’d be able to use this summer, while Marinette is away, to finally take everything away from that no good brat. It would be glorious.

---

Marinette was moments away from committing a murder. She was only going to do it because she knew for a fact that she’d get away with it. With a singular pout, she’d have the world’s greatest detective on her side. She was certain of it.

“Miss Marinette please put down the knife. I assure you prison is not lovely this time of year.” Alfred says with a sigh as he walks into the kitchen.

“Then tell Dick to get out of the kitchen!” She complains, pointing at her oldest brother who was currently covered in frosting and flour. She was trying to make cupcakes for after dinner, since she knew how much Dick likes sweets. She was trying to do something nice. And when Dick came into the kitchen, claiming he just wanted to spend time with his baby sister, Marinette let him stay. Because she loves her brother, she does.

But somehow in the two minutes that he was in the kitchen, he managed to dump the entire canister of flour. Not good, but she’d already baked the cupcakes so it wasn’t the end of the world. But then somehow, he’d managed to dump the entire mixing bowl of frosting. The entire thing. She had no clue how he had managed to do that, considering the fact it was frosting. It didn’t exactly run smoothly out of a bowl. It’s supposed to be able to hold its shape. Honestly, it was a mystery.

“Master Dick, you know that you are not allowed in the kitchen.” Alfred says with a frown. Dick pouts.

“I just wanted to spend some time with Mari.” He mumbles. Marinette almost regrets wanting to kill him. Until she watches as he wipes some of the frosting off of his head and eats it. Yeah, she doesn’t regret it anymore...but she does still love him.

“Okay, we’ll definitely have to spend more time together later. But for right now please go take a shower or something. I need to make more frosting and I do not trust you to be in the room when I do.” Marinette says exasperatedly. Dick sighs but leaves. Marinette puffs out her cheeks, giving Alfred a look.

“Yes?” He asks, his lips quirked up slightly.

“I honestly don’t know how you deal with them sometimes.” She grumbles before grabbing a new bowl. The cupcakes aren’t going to decorate themselves.

---

Jason huffs, annoyed that he’d been talked into staying at the manor with Marinette. He wasn’t mad at Marinette, he would do just about anything for the kid. Didn’t mean he wanted to stay at the manor just to make sure she didn’t sneak onto patrol. She’d assured them that she was too tired to try anything, but Bruce hadn’t believed her. Thus, Jason stuck at the manor.

But the kid had made a shit ton of cupcakes and Jason had a copy of his favorite book, so the night wouldn’t be too bad. After a few hours lounging in one of the rooms near Marinette’s, Jason starts to nod off. He’s about to welcome the rest, knowing everyone would be back from patrol soon, when he’s yanked from sleep by an ear piercing scream. Shit.

---

Marinette blinks as she looks around. Oh god. No, no please don’t let this be real. She chokes out a sob as she looks around her. Paris was once again completely underwater. The Eiffel tower was split in half. Hands shaking, she glances up and sees the moon. Or, what’s left of it. She moans in distress, letting her tears fall freely. She tries to breathe, but it won’t come. She’s panicking now, trying to ignore the burn in her chest as she sees the disaster around her. The terror around her. The destruction. She clutches her throat, trying to force her body to breathe. Force herself to suck in air, to be okay.

“Oh, Marinette, I see you’ve decided to join us again.” A familiar voice says. She tenses, slowly turning and looking behind her. Standing in front of her, just as she remembered him, was Chat Blanc. She should’ve known. She should’ve known that just because it was okay for a couple days didn’t mean it would stay okay. She should’ve tried harder to find Bunnix, should’ve tried to find a way to stop Adrien from finding out. Movement by Chat Blanc’s feet catches her attention and she glances down, regretting it immediately.

“What have you done?” She asks, rushing forward and falling to her knees, desperately trying to stop her little brother from bleeding out. “What have you done?” She yells, glaring at Chat Blanc through her tears. Her hands shake as she puts pressure on the wound, using Damian’s cape in an attempt to stop the blood.

“Marinette-” He tries to say, and she just shakes her head, hating that there’s blood coming out of his mouth. She knows what that means. She knows that this is bad. And there are no hospitals anymore. Everything is underwater. Everything except the three of them.

“Hey no, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you little brother.” She chokes out, trying to smile at him.

“Father,” He manages to say, his voice barely audible. “Help him.”

“No, no, please. Please don’t leave me! Please, no, no!” She screams, trying to wake him back up, trying to force him to get back up. He couldn’t die like this. He couldn’t die at all. She just found him. And now she’s lost him.

“Now we can be together forever Marinette.” Chat Blanc says, finally speaking up. She glares at him and his stupid smirk. The smirk that had haunted her since the first time she saw the white suit.

“I don’t want anything to do with you! You killed my brother!” She screams. Glancing down at her shaking hands, she can’t help but notice they’re covered in blood. She shudders, trying hard not to throw up.

“Brothers, actually.” He quips. She snaps her gaze back to him.

“What?” She hisses, standing so that she can hopefully run and get to one of her brothers before it’s too late. She can’t lose all of them. She can’t. He casually steps to the side, revealing her other brothers. But none of them are moving. Cass is also lying with them, but she’s not moving either. Gone. All of her siblings. And it was all her fault. She let Adrien know her identity. She didn’t try to fix that mistake and this is what happened. She lost every- her dad. Damian said- She turns and runs away from Chat Blanc, scanning the horizon and trying to stay as together as possible. She had to try. She could still save her dad. She could still help him. As she looks around, she manages to spot his cowl. Rushing towards it, she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Marinette?” He says, looking at her with a frown. She scans him for injuries, relieved that he just had a few small wounds. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

“I’m so sorry dad.” She whimpers, throwing her arms around him. He holds her for a moment before pulling away.

“Marinette, we have to go. We can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before-” He stops talking and his face morphs into the most horrified, anguish filled face that Marinette had ever seen. Right before he starts to crumble into ash.

“No!” She screams, horror and grief washing over her in waves. She was all alone and it was all her fault. And now she was going to die too.

---

“Come on Pixie, wake up kid. Come on, it’s okay, I’m here. Jay’s here.” A familiar voice soothes. Marinette stops thrashing, coughing slightly as she realizes the loud noise had been coming from her. She’d been screaming. Jay’s here? But then- She immediately opens her eyes, sobbing in relief when she sees Jason looking at her. No blood. Okay. She lunges forward and wraps her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She cries. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh kid, you don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He whispers, holding her close. They sit like that for a few minutes, until a knock on the door frame makes her reluctantly pull back. She glances over and a new wave of tears immediately appears. She launches herself off the bed and runs into her dad’s arms, sobbing once more.

“Jason, what happened?” He asks quietly, she knows that Jason doesn’t know, but she doesn’t answer for him. She can’t. All she can do is cry in her dad’s arms, relieved that she could cry. That her nightmare didn’t end with her almost being akumatized like it had before.

“No clue. Heard her scream so I ran in here, but she was asleep. Once she woke up she started crying and apologizing.” Jason says softly, probably for her benefit. She tries hard to remind herself that the nightmare didn’t mean anything. Her family wouldn’t be hurt because of her.

“Is everyone okay? Damian and Tim and Dick?” She asks, still buried in her dad’s arms. She’d ask about Cass, but she was still in Hong Kong. Marinette made a mental note to text her later.

“Everyone’s fine. Did you- do you want to talk about it?” He asks, and she almost agrees. Maybe it would be better to finally tell someone about Chat Blanc. To share that burden with someone else. But...maybe not her dad. Especially not since Adrien actively knows her identity and she wouldn’t be opposed to dating the boy in the future.

“I- er, um.” is all she manages to say before shaking her head. She won’t talk to her dad about this, and she doesn’t want to leave his arms right now. Not while she feels safe. She can almost hear him whispering to Jason, but she knows he’s trying not to let her hear, so she ignores them and instead wraps her arms around him tighter.

“Can I go get you a glass of water? Maybe a cookie for Tikki?” Her dad asks after a few moments of whispering with Jason. Marinette frowns. She didn’t want to be left alone. Not yet.

“I’ll stay with ya Pixie Pop.” Jason says, almost as if he had read her mind. She nods, giving her dad one final squeeze before walking back over to the bed and climbing up, letting Jason wrap her in a hug.

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” Her dad says before walking away. The silence only lasts a beat.

“You wanna tell your big brother why you woke up screamin’?” He asks. Marinette squeezes her eyes shut, desperate to get rid of the images from her nightmare.

“Nightmare.” She says simply. Jason chuckles.

“Kinda figured that part out Pix.”

“I’ve had it before.” She starts, aware of how her voice shakes. “But this time it was a lot worse. This time, I wasn’t the one who died.”

“What could be worse than dyin?” Jason asks, though she can tell by his tone that he knows. He knows what’s worse than dying.

“Watching all of you die.” She says simply. His hug tightens and she lets out a shaky breath, desperately wiping at her tears. “That’s not even the worst part Jay.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna.” He says softly.

“I know.” She says. “A version of it has happened. In a different timeline. That’s the worse part. Luckily when I had to go save that timeline, I didn’t know you guys. So you weren’t caught in the middle of everything. But in my nightmare, since you know about me and- and you guys just wanted to help but no one can win against that. No one. It was so hard to beat him when it actually happened. But the dream. It was awful.” There’s silence as he just holds her, lets her know he’s there without saying it. She’s so thankful for her family. For her brothers.

“Here’s your water.” Her dad says. She finally sits up and looks at him, noting the way his face is creased in worry. She manages a small smile.

“Thanks dad.” She says, her smile growing slightly as his face begins to relax.

“Mari! You’re still up?” Dick says, walking into the room. She blinks at him in confusion, not expecting him to just walk in. She watches as he looks between everyone else, clearly putting it together that something was wrong. He frowns, before his face stretches back into a grin. “Come on, bring all your pillows and blankets and we’ll have a Disney movie marathon until we fall asleep.” He directs, running out of the room to presumably get his own materials for the movie marathon.

“You don’t have to.” Her dad reassures her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shrugs.

“Might as well. I know I’ll definitely not be able to sleep anymore tonight.” She says, grabbing a couple pillows and her blanket, dragging it with her to the movie room. Leave it to her brothers to have a way to help her feel better after a nightmare. Marinette smiles to herself, once again relieved that she was in Gotham.

Next

Masterlist

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82

[hhjs]

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary  —   Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

 You accept it. 

 For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

 Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all. 

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour.  Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe.  While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him. 

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell. 

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

 Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose.  You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger  stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

 You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night.  See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart. 

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.”  he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

 “I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

 Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've  passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side. 

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous. 

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it. 

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say. 

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

— 

Kiss underneath a mistletoe. 

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right. 

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different.  Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

  Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

 He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

— 

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh.  Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

 Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you?  "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."  

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know.  Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

— 

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of  honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear,   "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

[freddie-weaselbee]

Everything You Do

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, love potion, small argument but honestly really fluffy

Summary: Y/N tries to get back at Fred for years of pranks, only to have her plan blow up in her face and she has to suffer the consequences for 48 hours. 

Request: @darthwheezely i literally loved writing this so much and now magic’s gonna be stuck in my head for the next week so thanks for that

Word Count: 7.9k yeah I may have gotten a little carried away

Song: Magic by One Direction

A/N: For the sake of the story One Direction exists in the 90′s and Hogwarts has Muggle radios. Also I spent my Valentine’s Day writing this instead of actually doing something romantic because Fred owns my heart and real men don’t compare. That’s my excuse. 

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

“This is a really dumb idea.”

“I know, that’s what makes it so fun!”

Angelina Johnson was standing guard outside of a small broom closet while you were mixing together dozens of ingredients you had swiped from Snape’s storage room. He had been distracted punishing the troublemaking twins, giving you the perfect opportunity to grab everything you needed. Ironic how they were the ones who made it possible for you to enact your plan against them. 

“I still can’t believe you roped me into this.” Angelina was one of your best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. The two of you had been inseparable for years, which meant she always had your back, even if that consisted of concocting a love potion for a certain redhead Gryffindor. 

You added the last of your ingredients and continued to stir, being careful not to mess up the very specific directions for this spell. “C’mon Angie,” you said, “you know you want to get him back as much as I do.”

Angelina sighed heavily but didn’t argue. The two of you were usually on the receiving end of pranks from Fred and George and anything you ever planned to do to get them back failed miserably. But the second you overheard them talking about making love potions to sell an idea formed in your mind. 

“It’s finished.” You poured the cauldron’s contents into a small vial before cleaning up any traces of your unlicensed actions. This small potion was about to make your life a lot more interesting. “You can get us into the kitchens, right Angie?”

The girl nodded and led you out of the closet and down abandoned corridors. Angelina’s prefect status had been extremely helpful in many cases, as no one would question why the two of you were out late. You could barely contain yourself as you thought about the chaos that would be happening in less than 24 hours. And by God did Fred Weasley deserve all that was coming to him. 

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

You had everything planned out. Angelina and you spent the night baking the potion into some brownies with the help of the house elves, a treat you knew Fred wouldn’t be able to resist. The plan was simple. 

Angelina had asked George the other night if he would want to go on an early morning walk and get in some extra Quidditch practice, so it would only be Fred and Lee in their dorm room when they woke up. The way the potion worked was that, once consumed, the first person the victim makes eye contact with is the person they fall madly in love with for 48 hours. And you and Angelina had decided on the perfect person to be on the receiving end of Fred’s love. Lee Jordan. 

While both Fred and George were responsible for the annoying pranks, Fred was always the instigator, which meant it was he who deserved revenge. Angelina had a soft spot for George and didn’t want to involve him in this prank. However, she had no reservations about seeing Lee, the boy who constantly flirted with her during Quidditch games, suffer from Fred’s pining for a few days. 

You made your way to the boys dormitory, bouncing with excitement of the prospect of messing with the boy who would tease you to no end. You knocked loudly on the door, which you knew would only put Fred in a bad mood. But you didn’t care. He’d be feeling nothing but love and bliss shortly.

The door was jerked open and a tall mess of ginger hair was standing in front of you, clothed in only a pair of boxers that had cute little Gryffindor lions on them. You had to stifle a laugh and remind yourself that it’s probably not polite to knock on someone’s door early in the morning and proceed to stare at their crotch. 

“What the bloody hell do you want?” he groaned, eyes still half closed. 

“That’s not a nice way to greet someone who just brought you food, now is it Freddie?” His face changed as he registered your voice and finally opened his eyes wide enough to see you. A slight blush formed on his face as he realized the little clothing he was wearing, but it was quickly replaced by his signature cocky smile. 

“And what can I do for you this morning, love?”

You rolled your eyes and pulled the brownies from behind you, one of them normal and the other containing the love potion. “Angelina and I snuck out to the kitchens last night and snagged a bunch of brownies. I’ll give you one if you promise to leave me out of your pranks, at least for a little bit. I’m tired of waking up to centipedes in my bed and green dye dripping from my hair.”

Fred laughed and snatched the brownie you handed to him. “I appreciate the negotiation, darling, but it’s gonna take a lot more than some baked goods to get me out of your hair. Just ask my mum.” 

He was about to take a bite from the brownie, you knew this was it. “You’re insufferable Weasley, I’ll see you in class.” You turned and walked away, counting the minutes until the fun would begin. A door slammed behind you and you assumed Fred had gone back to his bed. With a skip in your step you made your way back to your dorm. 

You were about to open the door when you felt a rough hand on your shoulder. You gasped and spun around to see Fred towering over you. 

“Sorry to scare you love, but I needed to ask you something.” Before you could stop yourself you looked up at him. In his right hand was the half eaten brownie. His eyes caught yours and you watched, horrified, as they glazed over. The spell had worked. But now you were the target of Fred’s love. 

“Oh Godric, oh no.” 

Fred’s expressions suddenly changed. His previous cheeky and somewhat nervous grin was gone, replaced with a lovesick smile. “Have you always looked this beautiful?”

You screamed and pushed him into your dorm room, casting a locking charm from the outside. You hoped Fred didn’t have his wand and that would buy you some time. 

Sprinting back to Fred and Lee’s dorm you threw open the door and practically jumped on the dark haired boy sleeping tangled in his sheets. 

“Lee, wake up wake up!”

He groaned and slapped your arm away but you wouldn't give up. It took all of your might but you rolled him off of his bed, and he gasped loudly as his limp body hit the floor.  

“You’re an arse, you know that right?”

Lee finally sat up after he realized that pretending to be asleep would not stop you from frantically shaking him. As he rubbed his eyes and moved to get off the floor he saw the scared look that adorned your face. 

“Lee…” you said in a panic, “I messed up.”

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

George, true to his nature, was absolutely no help. Angelina had brought them back up early so she could check up on the plan, only to walk in on you groaning into Fred’s bed and Lee yelling about how you deserved it for trying to prank him. It only took a few minutes to fill George in, and he and Lee were both beside themselves imagining the possibilities of this turn of events. 

“Guys shut up,” you said, slamming your head into one of Fred’s pillows. “This is serious. How am I supposed to deal with Fred being in love with me for two days?”

“I don’t know Y/N,” Lee began mockingly, “it must be really difficult. Not something you would want anyone to have to experience, huh?”

You threw the pillow at his face. “You deserved it Jordan, Angelina agrees.”

The other girl nodded hesitantly. “I did think it would be great to see Fred madly in love with Lee, but now that this has happened…” her face shone with a sly grin that was so rare to find on the prefect, “I think I want to see it play out.”

“You are all horrible people.”

George moved to sit next to you and rub your back. “Hey, don’t worry, love. Maybe the potion isn’t as bad as you thought? Maybe Fred’s not going as crazy as you expected.”

He was. 

As you opened the door to your dorm you were engulfed in a bone crushing hug, one very similar to Molly Weasley’s embraces. “I missed you so much, don’t ever leave me for that long again!”

George and Lee had to walk away because they were laughing so much, leaving Angelina to stare at the scene in front of her. 

“Umm, Fred,” she asked, peering into the bedroom, “what the hell did you do in here?”

Fred released you from his hold and you could finally see the mess that he created. Everything you owned was pulled from your trunks and scattered across the floor. Your uniform, your books, even your underwear was haphazardly thrown onto your sheets. 

You and your roommate were glaring daggers at the boy in front of you, but if he noticed he didn’t care. 

“You like it?” he asked. “I wanted to be as close to Y/N as I could while she was gone, so I spread all of her belongings out to make it feel like she was right next to me.” He said the last few words with a dramatic sigh and you smacked your head, hoping it would knock you out of whatever nightmare you were in. 

You grabbed his hands in yours and led him back to his room, hoping too many people wouldn’t see him clad in only his underwear. “C’mon Freddie, let's get you dressed. We have a long two days ahead of us. 

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

You didn’t know if having most of your classes with Fred was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, at least he wasn’t skipping class to be with you all day and you could keep a close eye on him. On the other hand, you already had lost 50 house points and it wasn’t even lunch yet. 

“You look stunning with your hair pulled back like that.” Instead of doing his potions assignment, Fred was bent over resting his head on his hand and staring at you mixing together your ingredients. 

“And you look like an idiot standing like that, get back to work before we get in trouble again.” You thought that if you were rude to Fred then maybe he would get the hint and back off. But your potion turned out to be stronger than expected, and nothing you did could get him away from you. 

He pushed a strand of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ear, letting his fingers linger for a few seconds. It made you blush furiously but you didn’t want to give the boy any satisfaction. “Back to work Fred, now.”

The ginger sighed and grabbed a few ingredients, not checking to see what they were. He hummed and danced around the table, throwing them in while he quietly sang a familiar tune. 

You rolled your eyes and looked down at your own cauldron, before his hands were on your chin and your faces were inches away from each other. “Everything you do is magic, love. I could watch you all day.”

“I’m a witch, dummy. Of course everything I do is magic.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He went back to throwing random ingredients into his pot and you couldn’t help but laugh at the lovesick mess standing in front of you. That is, until the cauldron exploded. 

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Y/L/N, you insufferable idiots.” Of course Snape would blame you too. “Detention tonight.”

You groaned and slammed your head onto the table, but Fred just wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Isn’t that great? Now we can spend even more time together.”

“Don’t remind me Weasley.”

------------------------------ 

The rest of the day had gone by surprisingly smoothly. George and Lee tried to distract Fred for a few hours to give you a little peace and quiet, but he always found his way back to your side. You started to attract odd glances as you moved through the castle with Fred’s hands intertwined with yours and his constant complimenting that made you turn even deeper shades of red. 

You tried to avoid public spaces as much as possible. If people saw the way Fred was acting around you it wouldn’t take long for them to piece everything together and recognize the effects of a semi-illegal love potion. And you really didn’t want to be known as the girl who forced someone to fall in love with you, even if it was a complete accident. 

However, dinner was difficult. Fred walked into the Great Hall with his arm draped over your shoulder, booping your nose and handing you a flower he had picked from the courtyard. You blushed and quickly put it in the pocket of your robe, hoping no one would notice. But they did. 

“Finally!” someone shouted, and you turned to the Hufflepuff table to see Cedric Diggory yelling. “MacMillan, you owe me 5 galleons!”

You furrowed your brow in confusion and turned to look at Angelina and George, who avoided eye contact with you. “Guys, what is he talking about?”

The four of you sat down, followed by Lee. Fred’s arm stayed stuck to you, even when you tried to shove him off. Angelina looked a little sheepish as she took a seat in front of you. 

“Well, we tried to keep it from you and Fred because we didn’t want it to get awkward, but…”

“Everyone has bets on when they thought you two were gonna shag, or at least snog or get together or something,” Lee piped up. 

You looked between the faces of your friends, searching for a joke. “You’re kidding. I know you’re kidding.”

George just shook his head and gave a small laugh. “Nope. Everyone’s in on it too. Even heard McGonagall and Dumbledore discussing their bets.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked up at Fred. “Did you know about this?” 

“The only thing I know, bunny, is how incredibly adorable you are.” He leaned his head on your shoulder and nuzzled himself into you, breathing in your scent. 

Your mind started to race with what this meant. “Oh no, now everyone’s going to be paying attention to us! How am I supposed to explain it in two days when suddenly we’re back to normal and everyone’s asking what happened? I’m gonna be in so much trouble…”

“Better you than me,” said Lee, who was growing increasingly more glad that your plan backfired and he wasn’t the one having to deal with Fred. 

“I hate this so much.” You tried your best to eat your dinner in peace, but with people congratulating you and passing around money the entire meal you started to lose your appetite. You completely lost it when you saw George grab a few sickles from a Ravenclaw student. 

“You bet on this too?” He shrugged sheepishly and looked down to count the coins in his hands. “I told you, everyone knew you were gonna get together, might as well place my own bets on it.”

“Are you forgetting Georgie,” you said, starting to get angry with him, “that we’re not together?”

A few confused heads turned your way and you immediately quieted down. If you had to play along, then that was what you would do. 

You stood up and grabbed Fred’s hand in yours. “C’mon, Fred, it’s time for detention. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” They said their goodbyes as you rushed out of the Great Hall, ignoring the comments thrown in your direction. 

The two of you arrived in Snape’s classroom and you practically broke down the door, just ready to get all of this over with. 

“Miss Y/L/N, please refrain from damaging my classroom any more than you and your idiot boyfriend already have.” The greasy professor stood in the corner, flipping through the pages of one of his potions books. 

“He’s not an idiot, professor. And he’s not my--” you stopped yourself from correcting your teacher and instead opted for quietly dragging your ‘boyfriend’ over to where your detention assignment was. 

“I want this room spotless, do you understand me? Not a speck of dust. And if I find out that you two have gotten up to anything...funny--”

“Trust me professor, you don’t have to worry about that.” You looked at Fred whose eyes were glassy and looking at you. You had to admit, the thought of something happening with Fred had crossed your mind in the past, but you knew it was only a fleeting thought. Besides, you would never take advantage of your best friend or anyone for that matter, especially when he was literally under a spell that made him fall in love with you. You’d have to be really careful with anything Fred did while the two of you were alone. 

Snape set out a checklist for your tasks for the night before sweeping his cape dramatically and gliding out of his classroom. 

“So,” Fred began with a sly grin, “now that we’re alone…”

“Not a chance Weasley. You’re under a love potion and I want to get this done quick so I can head to bed and pretend this day never happened. So let’s get to work.”

He pouted and tried to put his arm around your waist but you slapped it away. “I’m serious Fred. If you love me then you’ll help, ok?”

Fred’s expression changed quickly and he nodded with enthusiasm, grabbing all the supplies needed to begin cleaning. You couldn’t help but stare at your best friend gleefully prance around the room, sweeping all of the dust while humming that familiar tune under his breath. 

Your mind went back to what your friends were saying earlier at dinner. Did everyone really think that you two would get together? I mean, you did always flirt with each other, but that was just how you were. Your personalities bounced off of each other so well, which led to you being practically inseparable for the past few years. Even after his pranks and jokes you could never be mad at him for more than a day, and you always found your way back to his side. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice that the boy was suddenly right behind you. “Dance with me, my love?” 

As you turned you saw him bowing with an arm extended to you, and you couldn’t help but giggle at him as his long red hair covered his face. “Fred, I told you, nothing’s gonna happen tonight.” 

But he grabbed your hand anyways and pulled you tighter to him. “Who says anything has to happen? This is just a friendly dance with the love of my life.”

“There’s not even any music, how are we supposed to dance?” He dipped you down and pulled you back up to his chest. You hated to admit it, but his lovesick state was growing on you. 

“We can dance to the beats of our hearts, my dear.” And the feelings were gone. You rolled your eyes at his tacky remark and had to remind yourself that this was just a fabrication of love and obsession that was created in a cauldron and consumed by your friend against his will. But some innocent dancing wouldn’t hurt. 

“Fine,” you said, “we can dance for a little bit, but then we work, got it?” 

He cupped your face and his thumb rested on your slightly parted lips. “Anything for you, my love.”

While you hated the cheesiness of Fred’s words, you had to admit that dancing haphazardly around the potions room, knocking over empty cauldrons and vials, was pretty fun. Fred hummed the song he had been humming nonstop for the past few days as he spun you around and pulled you back close. 

There were many instances where he tried to press his lips to yours, but every time you would spin away and distract him with some more dancing. His smile grew wider and wider after every second, and you thought it was a sight you could get used to. You probably would have continued to dance all night, except for the fact that you tripped over the broom Fred used earlier and it reminded you that you had a punishment to fulfill. 

But while you cleaned up the mess you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the ginger boy across the room, and wondering what it would be like to dance with the real him some day. 

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

You awoke with an awful crick in your neck and aches all over your body. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light you realized that you weren’t in your dorm room lying on your comfy four poster bed. No, you had fallen asleep sitting against a wall of the potions room floor, with Fred laying his head on your lap, still fast asleep. 

You blushed at the position, but selfishly stayed still for a few minutes, staring at the slow rising and falling of Fred’s chest. He’d always been the cuter twin in your opinion. Slightly shorter, but with a rounder face and less bumped nose than his brother. His soft features were a huge contrast to his sharp and blunt personality, and they balanced each other so perfectly. 

He slowly shifted so his head was facing you, still laying on your lap. He looked up through his lashes, smiling softly. 

“Hey beautiful, hope you slept well.” Your heart melted at his words, along with his deep morning voice. But you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. It would never be real. 

“I reckon you slept fine, you had me as a pillow.” You lifted his head and shoved him off of you, standing up to brush yourself off. “I was stuck leaning against these cold walls with a 6’ 3” ginger laying on top of me. Best sleep of my life.” 

That was when the reality of what happened actually kicked in. It was the next morning, and the two of you were still in your clothes from yesterday and still in Snape’s classroom, who was bound to return any minute. 

“Shit.” You grabbed your friends hands and dragged him to the door. “C’mon Freddie, we have to get back to the Common Room before Snape sees us. Or someone else.”

“Who cares who sees love?” He stopped in his tracks which made you fly back into him. “I want the whole world to know how much I love my little angel.”

“I care who sees. And you don’t love me Fred, it’s the spell. C’mon let’s hurry up, please.” No matter how many times you tried to explain the love potion Fred just wouldn’t listen. But he finally decided to follow you through the labyrinth of the dungeon and back to Gryffindor tower. 

You thought you were home free before you heard a voice from behind you. “Looks like someone had a fun night, didn’t she?” 

You increased your pace and shouted back at the laughing figure, clad in green and silver. “Sod off Malfoy, it’s none of your business or anyone else’s for that matter.”

But he just continued to laugh and ran away, probably to tell his goons all about what he saw protruding from Snape’s classroom early in the morning. 

“He’s a real arse, isn’t he, doll?” Fred’s words made a small smile spread on your face, glad that the potion didn’t take all of his personality away. 

“Yeah he is, Freddie. Now let’s get you dressed and ready for class, ok?”

Fred grinned as you spoke the Gryffindor password to the fat lady. “Only if you promise to meet me in the courtyard for lunch. I have a surprise for you bunny.”

You pushed him through the door and back to his room. “Fine, but don’t call me bunny, ok?” He nodded reluctantly. “Oh and Fred?”

The boy turned around and stared at you dopily, hanging on to every word you said. 

“Please give me my tie back. I see it in your pocket.”

Fred sighed and gave you his best puppy dog eyes, which almost worked. But he eventually grabbed the tie and handed it to you. “Just wanted something to remember you by, that’s all rabbit.”

“I think that’s worse than bunny. Now get dressed and meet me back here for class. And if anyone asks you where we were last night, you lie, ok? We were in our dorms.”

He nodded so hard you thought his head would fall off. “Yes ma’am! How about a goodbye kiss?”

You sighed and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s all you get. Now off you go Weasley.”

Fred skipped back into his dorm room and started singing some song, which quickly turned into a scream, making you assume that one of his roommates had attacked him for waking them up so early. One day down, one to go. Easy, right? But what scared you was you didn’t know if you wanted this to end or if you wanted it to continue forever. 

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

“He’s insufferable, Angie. How am I supposed to deal with this again? Especially alone.” It was only minutes away from when Fred was supposed to take you out to lunch, and you really didn’t want to see him, especially since you had no idea how to feel about him now. 

Angelina smiled at you and sat down in the courtyard. “He can’t be that bad. It’s Fred!”

You gave her an ‘are you serious’ look. She nodded in understanding. “Yeah, ok it’s probably bad.”

“I just want things to go back to normal,” you groaned. “But that won’t even happen, because everyone thinks we’re dating now! Oh he’s gonna hate me when the potion wears off.”

“As if Fred could ever hate you, Y/N. You’re his favorite person, he’s said so himself.” Her words were not helping the internal crisis you were having.

“But what is everyone going to think? There’s no way they’ll believe we broke up after two days, and it’s not like Fred would play along and fake date me. I’m doomed.”

“You’re overdramatic, that’s what you are. We’ll figure it out, ok? And Fred will help once he’s back to normal. He could never get mad at you.”

“I hope you’re right. I just wish that he’d keep everything quiet and not make any big scenes.” The second you said that you saw Fred approaching you, but not from the ground. No, the drama queen decided to fly down on a broom, attracting everyone’s attention. “Oh great.”

“Have fun on your date you lovebirds!” Angelina called after you. You flipped her off as you walked to where Fred had landed. 

“Hello lovely, care for a ride?” Everyone was staring at you and you wanted nothing more than to get out of there. A display like this probably wouldn’t have bothered you if it was with someone you were actually dating, but the more people saw you and Fred together the more complicated an explanation would be. 

So you hopped on the back of his broom and whispered for him to fly away, fast. You zoomed through the air, away from the castle and down toward the Black Lake. 

The strong lake air filled your nose as your hair whipped around your face at top speed. You wrapped your arms around Fred tighter as he made twists and turns in every direction, causing you to scream and laugh at his antics. 

The afternoon sky was beautiful, and you took a mental note to do this again sometime, preferably with the man sitting in front of you. 

Fred finally landed the broom on an open piece of land, wildflowers blooming all around and the wind whistling in your ears. 

He grabbed your hand as you stepped off the broom and led you to a spot set up with a blanket and a basket of food. 

“Freddie…” It was too much for you to take in. This love potion must have been powerful stuff to make him go out of his way to do this for you. 

“Come here, dove, let’s eat.” 

You were speechless as you sat down on the blanket and were handed an assortment of foods, from mini sandwiches to grapes and strawberries to cupcakes for dessert. Fred grinned at the shocked expression on your face. 

“Fred, I...I don’t know what to say.” 

“Then don’t say anything, love.” He leaned in toward you, eyes flicking down to your lips. His beautiful, soft lips. At the last second before your lips met you grabbed a grape and plopped it into his mouth. Fred looked surprised at first, but he quickly recovered and did the same thing to you, feeding you a grape that he grabbed from the basket. This quickly turned into a food fight, with the two of you grabbing handfuls of fruit and chucking them at each other, diving out of the way and making barricades to protect yourselves.

You were laughing harder than you ever had before, so much so that the two of you lost track of time. 

“Oh, shoot, Fred. It’s probably time for our next class.” You tried to grab all of the supplies and pull him over to his broom, but his big hands wrapped around you from behind and held you in place. 

“Don’t leave, darling. I want to spend every minute of every day with you.” He rocked you from side to side, his words sending shivers down your back. You knew his words weren’t his. Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t the real Fred Weasley talking. But that didn’t stop you for pretending that it was real, at least for a few seconds. 

“Don’t say things like that, Freddie,” you said, unwrapping yourself from his hold. “You’re only making this harder than it already is.”

He followed you to the broom, you carrying the basket and blanket while tangling your arms around him again. You took off into the sky and you closed your eyes, soaking up every ounce of this fleeting beautiful moment. 

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

“So how are things with my brother going? Do I hear wedding bells in the future?”

You slapped George upside the head and huffed as you sat down for dinner, ignoring the laughs from your friends. 

“Shut up, George, I’m just glad this day is almost over. All I have to do is make it through dinner and then we can go back to our dorms and go to bed.”

Lee gave you a suggestive smile. “Yeah, our dorms. Just like what you two did last night.”

George started cackling like a hyena and you smashed your hand over Lee’s mouth. “Don’t say one word about that,” you hissed. “Malfoy’s already talking to enough people, I don’t want Fred thinking I took advantage of him and slept with him while he was practically drugged!”

This seemed to get through to the boys and they quieted down. 

“Nothing did happen though, right?” George was starting to get nervous, finally realizing what could’ve happened to his brother in this state. 

You shook your head. “Of course not. Only some dancing and falling asleep in awkward positions.”

“I am so glad that wasn’t me then,” Lee joked, trying to lighten the mood. You smiled slightly and turned to look for the man of the hour. 

“Hey, where is Fred anyways? We haven’t been apart for this long since he ate the brownie.” 

As soon as you spoke your words, Angelina sprinted into the room and sat next to you. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your eyes went wide at Angelina’s words. “Angie, what are you talking about?”

Suddenly the doors to the Great Hall were flung open, and in rode Fred on his broom, throwing rose petals from a basket he was carrying. 

“Oh no,” you muttered. 

“Oh yes,” said George, who tapped Colin Creevey and asked him to get as many pictures of this as possible. 

Fred made a couple of laps around the hall and landed right in front of you. “Hello, lovely, are you ready for the show?”

You wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table and hide for the rest of eternity, but Lee was holding you in place and you were forced to witness the monstrosity of what was about to happen. 

Fred waved his wand at a nearby Muggle radio that he had planted, and the song he had been humming for the past few days came on, blaring louder than a normal radio should be able to. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Fred began to sing. 

“Baby c’mon over I don’t care if people find out!”

George whistled at the scene and Creevey snapped a photo, the first of many to come. 

“They say that we’re no good together and it’s never gonna work out.”

You scanned the room frantically, looking for someone to help you out of this situation. But even Dumbledore looked intrigued as he sat back in his seat. 

“But, baby, you got me moving too fast,”

He kicked some food off of the table and it landed next to Malfoy, splattering his face with warm mashed potatoes. 

“Cause I know you wanna be bad,”

Fred started to do a very provocative dance move involving his broom and you could hear dozens of girls cheering for him. 

“And girl, when you’re looking like that, I can’t hold back!”

He held your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead before jumping on his broom and flying around the room, singing the chorus of the song at the top of his lungs. 

“Cause you, you’ve got this spell on me!”

Oh if only he knew. 

“I don’t know what to believe”

He did a loop on his broom and winked at you, making you smile against your will. No matter how annoying Fred was, especially under a love spell, he was still cute. 

“Kiss you once, now I can’t leave! Cause everything you do is magic, but everything you do is magic.”

He continued the song getting louder with each verse and making occasional stops to give you a small peck on the cheeks or forehead. 

After what felt like an eternity, the song died down and cheers from every table grew, even the Slytherins getting excited about the display. 

Fred landed next to you and sat down, hugging you tightly into his chest. “I love you, Y/N, with all of my heart.”

You felt yourself give in to your desires and you hugged him back tightly. “I love you too Weasley. More than you’ll ever know.”

He finally released you and you went back to your meals, your red blush not once leaving your face throughout dinner. After you and your friends finished you made your way back to your rooms. 

“I think I’m gonna turn in early Freddie, ok?” You didn’t really give him a chance to respond before you stepped into your room and started getting ready for bed. As you brushed your teeth and put on your pjs, the events from the past few days raced through your head. You pushed the thoughts out of your mind. After tomorrow morning, they wouldn’t matter. You and Fred would be back to your normal friendly selves and you would be struggling to come up with a way to justify the scene he had made in front of the entire school. 

As you pulled the covers up over your body you heard a shy knock on the door. Assuming it was Angelina you yelled for her to come in, only to see Fred standing in the doorway looking at you. 

You sat up slowly and gazed at the tall man, the one you felt yourself falling for even more in the past two days. “What’s up Freddie, are you alright?”

He nodded and made his way to sit on your bed. “I can’t sleep. Wanna sleep here with you. Can I sleep with you my love?”

You blushed at his words but nodded, scooting over to let him crawl into bed with you. You made sure to stay as far away from Fred as possible, but it didn’t help that he was constantly trying to pull you closer. 

“Fred,” you said, shifting out of his hold once again. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re not in your right mind and I don’t want normal Fred to wake up and wonder why we’re laying together.”

“But I wanna be here with you, pumpkin.”

You sat up again and adjusted the pillows underneath him so he would be comfortable. “How about you sleep here and I can lay on the floor, ok? That way I’m still close to you.”

Fred whimpered at the lack of heat from your body, but he nodded as you made a makeshift bed on the ground. Two days in a row sleeping on the floor. You guessed this was payback for ever thinking you could get back at Fred Weasley. 

You slowly fell asleep on the ground, listening to Fred’s soft breathing and your own pounding heart. Everything would be different in the morning. Everything would be normal again. 

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

You woke up early again, more aches and pains haunting your body. Groaning, you sat up to look for Fred, but he had disappeared. Had the potion worn off and he decided to head to his own bed? No, it wasn’t a full 48 hours yet, there was still a little time left. 

Your bathroom door shot open and out bounced Fred, looking more energetic than you had ever seen him this early in the morning. 

“Glad you’re up, love. I’ve got something to show you.”

Before you could protest, Fred was dragging you out of the Gryffindor tower and straight to the Astronomy Tower, which was usually empty this time of day. You were still clad in your pajamas but you figured no one would see you this early.

You made your way to the top and saw what Fred had meant. There was another blanket set up, but with a radio sitting on it instead of a basket of food. 

“I figured we could watch the sunrise together, sunshine,” he whispered into your ear, before pulling you onto the blanket with him. 

Fred turned on the radio and some soft music began to play. He threw his arm around your shoulders but you shrugged it off, knowing that the potion was going to wear off any minute now. 

“Y/N?” Fred asked. 

You looked at him tilted your head, gesturing for him to continue. 

“You know I love you, right?”

The look in his eyes made you want to break down. He was so beautiful, sitting in the glow of the sunrise. His eyes gleamed brown and gold, and you wanted nothing more than to get lost in them. 

“Yeah, Freddie. I know. Right now you do.”

Fred looked like he was about to say something else, when he started to get dizzy and he had to steady himself by holding onto your shoulders.

“Fred, are you alright?”

He didn’t answer, but instead took a deep breath and looked up at you. 

Fred shot away faster than a snitch at a Quidditch game, and you knew this was it. Your prank was over. 

“Y/N? What, how…? What’s going on? Did I just say I loved you? Bloody hell…” Fred’s head was spinning and you tried to calm him down. 

“Hey, it’s alright, don’t worry Fred.” You took his hand in yours and pulled him closer to you. “What do you remember?”

You didn’t know how this specific love potion worked in regards to memories. Whether Fred would completely forget the last two days or if he would remember them completely, you had no idea. Either way you planned on filling him in on everything. He deserved to know. 

“I, umm, I remember eating a brownie, and, and I needed to tell you something, but you looked too beautiful and I couldn’t. And all I wanted to do was tell you how amazing and incredible you are...and there was detention, and a picnic, and--did I really sing that song to you in front of everyone?”

You laughed at the boy who finally felt the embarrassment of his actions. “Yes you did Freddie, but it’s not your fault.”

He furrowed his brow at you. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you began, “you know how you’re an insufferable twat who likes to prank me all the time?”

Fred smiled and gently nudged your shoulder. “That I do know, continue.”

“So, Angelina and I decided to get back at you, using my expertise in potions.”

His face dropped. “Potions? What potions? Did you use a potion on me?”

You felt horrible having to explain this to your friend. While nothing bad happened during the last two days, you couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Fred. “You see, we sort of concocted a love potion to give you, as a joke--”

“What?” he screamed incredulously. 

You jumped as he spoke and he pulled his hands back from you. 

“A love potion? Are you serious?”

“I-I’m sorry Freddie, we didn’t think you’d get this upset, it was honestly--”

“So this… all of this?” Fred looked as if he was going to explode. He was tugging at his hair so hard you expected him to pull it out. “You toyed with me? You played with my feelings? So everything I’ve felt for you the last year has been nothing more than a stupid love potion?”

You were taken aback by his harsh words, dumbstruck by the side of Fred you’d never seen before. He was furious, and not at Snape or Malfoy like usual. He was furious with you. 

“Fred, what--”

“I can’t believe you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you since the summer and now I find out that my feelings aren’t even real, just one big joke. Is that all I am? Just a joke to you?”

What was he talking about? The potion didn’t make up false memories of love. He shouldn’t have been in love with you for longer than the 48 hours. You reached forward to put your hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off. 

“Freddie,” you began, “we gave you the potion two days ago. Everything else was...not our doing. I promise you that. We just thought it would be a fun joke and we knew it would rub off quickly. But I swear, we haven’t been toying with you. I care about you too much to do that.”

You’d never seen Fred look more confused in his entire life, and that was counting the time that you took polyjuice to make yourself look like him and convince him that you were his long lost triplet. 

“You...I...only two days?” He turned to face the edge of the tower, staring into the sunrise. You moved with him and ended up sitting in front of him, so close that you were practically on his lap. 

“I gave you the potion thinking that you were going to fall in love with Lee. But you of course had to ruin the plan and fall in love with me instead. Everything you’ve been feeling for the past two days in fake. But other than that, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your brain was racing with possibilities of what he could mean about the last year. It settled on one, but there was no way that could be it. 

You rubbed your thumb over Fred’s knuckles soothingly as you watched him try to comprehend what was going on. “So, the butterflies I got when I saw you in a swimsuit over the summer? The way my heart beats faster every time you look at me? The way I can feel myself falling in love with everything you do? That’s not...that’s not fake?”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. Butterflies? Heart beating? Falling in love? “Fred, if this is some sort of reverse joke to get back at me it’s not funny at all.”

He shifted and pulled you into a tight hug as he noticed your vulnerability, so uncommon with you. “Of course this isn’t a joke, love. But you have to tell me, was it all real? Please tell me it was all real and that the potion’s over with now.”

You smiled and felt small tears prick your eyes. “The potions over, Freddie. Whatever you felt before and whatever you feel now...it’s real. There’s no spell on you anymore.”

Fred pulled back from the hug and cupped your cheek in his hands. His eyes seared into yours and you never wanted to look away. “Y’know,” you whispered, “sometimes I wonder if you’ve got me under a spell.”

Fred laughed and twisted your hair in his fingers. You thought he had never looked more handsome laughing at you in the morning light. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, love.”

You scoffed at his remark. “You got up and sang that to me in front of the entire school!” you nearly shouted, slapping his chest. 

“Yeah, while I was literally under a love potion that you gave me! Just that desperate for me, are you?”

You knew he was joking, but he was poking at the truth. “Maybe I am Freddie, maybe I--”

But you didn’t have time to finish, because you were cut off by his lips on yours. It caught you by surprise, but it wasn’t long until you melted into the kiss. His one hand rested on the small of your back and the other moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. 

You sighed into the long overdue kiss and crawled on top of the love of your life, straddling his hips.

Your hands played with his hair like they had countless times before, but this time it was different. This time it really meant something, to the both of you. Fred pulled you closer and you shifted so you were pushing him onto his back. Unfortunately, neither of you were very aware of your surroundings and his head hit the radio, forcing it to change stations. 

The two of you giggled and continued to make out in the morning sun, but you stopped once you heard the song that came on. 

“Is that…” you asked. 

“It can’t be. There’s no way.”

But the radio was without a doubt playing the song that the whole school was now familiar with. You sat up and stared at Fred, eyes asking him if he somehow planned this. 

Fred just shrugged and pulled you back onto him. “Must be magic love.” You smiled and went in to kiss him again. As the song ended Fred spoke the last lyrics into you, sending shivers down your spine. 

“But everything you do is magic.”

[wrenhyperfixates]

Secret Santa

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When you pick Loki’s name for Secret Santa, you are at a loss for what to get him. Some quality time with the God of Mischief sheds some light on the situation. Warnings: pure, unadulterated fluff; very long A/N: It’s almost Christmas now; less than a week to go! And a big thank you to my best friend @lokistan​ for writing the beautiful poetry for this story. I love you my bean! Happy reading all :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​ @gaitwae

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Oh my gosh, thank you Nat!” you said, throwing your arms around her shoulders in a hug. She had been your Secret Santa and gotten you the expensive jacket you’d been wanting for months. “It’s perfect.”

Christmas Eve in the Avengers Tower was full of laughter and drinks as the team exchanged Secret Santa gifts. Tomorrow morning you’d be opening regular presents, so it was tradition to set this aside for the night before. It was more fun that way, maybe because you could focus solely on the excitement of learning who had picked your name.  

“You’re welcome. I know you were nervous about being able to pull it off, but it’ll look great on you,” she reassured, hugging you back. “Ok, now it’s your turn.”

You shot a nervous glance at Peter, who flashed a thumbs up. Thor, who was sitting next to you, pat your back. You stood and picked up the carefully wrapped package, all decorated in gold and green. You were nervous about what you had picked, but whether the recipient liked it or not, you were happy that this anxiety of if it was good enough or not would be over. You’d rather know. After all, you’d been feeling this way ever since you’d picked the name a week earlier...

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

“Alright everyone,” Tony said, holding a stocking filled with little pieces of paper. “It’s time for Secret Santa. And remember, if you get me, cash is accepted.”

You gathered around with the rest of the team as they started to pick names. You said a little prayer that you would get Peter, your best friend, seeing as you already had about thirty different gift ideas for him. Wanda would be pretty easy, too, as you were also really close with her. In fact, looking around, you were able to come up with at least some scrap of an idea for almost everyone. Almost being the operative word.  By the time Tony got to you, there was only one slip left. As you stuck your hand in the stocking, you made a silent wish that it wouldn’t be the one person you had no clue what to get for.

Please, you thought. Please be someone I know. Please don’t be...

Loki.

“And that concludes the name picking process,” Tony announced as you cast a dismayed look at the four-letter name on the paper. “You have a week to figure it out, so good luck.

“Remember, no swapping!” Steve added as the group began to disperse.

You looked around for the trickster, wondering why he was even participating. It’s not that you didn’t want him to, just that it didn’t seem like his kind of thing. From the way he was clenching his fists and scowling, you still guessed it wasn’t. Not like you really knew him all that well, unfortunately. When he’d come to the Tower, Loki seemed like he preferred the solitude. You often wondered if you should have made more of an effort to be his friend, wished that you had. There was this one time you were both reading Macbeth in a common area and had gotten into a very animated discussion about it. Nothing more ever really came of that, though, as he left for a mission the next day and didn’t return until two weeks later. By then, you’d both moved onto different books.

Later, you made a trip to the library, hoping to solve the enigma that is the God of Mischief. You were the only two people who went in their regularly and more than half the conversations you’d had with him had been held in that room. Granted they were all short, but you figured it was a start. In fact, you found yourself rather wanting to have a conversation with him right now. Yes, because of the Secret Santa thing, but also because they’d been getting more frequent recently. With every one, you realized how much you enjoyed talking to him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in his usual spot by the crackling fire. You considered just leaving, but decided you should at least make some use of this trip. You’d seen him reading some works by James Joyce most recently, and you went to go look for the one he’d had last. Maybe seeing what he likes to read could give you some gift ideas. Your eyes scanned the shelves, but you couldn’t find it. It was possible you were just remembering the cover wrong. Just as you were about to give up, someone tapped your shoulder.

“Pardon me,” Loki said as you whipped around. “I think you may be looking for this.”

He held out the copy of the book you’d been looking for and raised an eyebrow when you just stared at him blankly for a second. Who could blame you, though? He was standing rather close, and he was... Well, quite frankly, he was hot. With his raven black hair framing his smooth, pale skin, and with striking blue-green eyes that stare into your soul, he was the most handsome man you’d ever met. Then again, he wasn’t really a man, was he?

“Oh, uh, yes. Yes I am,” you said, coming to your senses. “Thank you. Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much so. I have read it five times now. I apologize for that, if you were looking for it.”

“Don’t worry about it. You have nothing to apologize for.” He looked rather surprised that you would say such a thing, and you briefly wondered how many times people had made him apologize unnecessarily. “You could even just keep it if you want.”

“No, that is alright. At least, not until you have gotten to read it, too. Perhaps we could discuss it?” he said hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping.

You looked at the title in your hands. Dubliners. You’d read a few of the short stories in high school and hadn’t enjoyed them much. But you were older now, so maybe your tastes had changed. Either way, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have another conversation with Loki. That slight smile and those intelligent eyes were just too captivating.

“That’s a wonderful idea. May I ask what your favorite is?”

“A good question. I think I will have to say Eveline. The way she ends up trapped, the mere emotion in the implication... It’s exquisitely done.”

“Wow, Loki, you have such a way with words. You’re beautiful,” you told him without thinking. As his eyes widened, you realized what you’d said and tried to cover it up. “I, um, I meant that that’s beautiful. The, ah, way you weave words. Sorry, I obviously don’t have the same ability.”

“It is quite alright. They do not call me silver-tongue for nothing, you know,” he said, though he was blushing now. “Still, I look forward to hearing your thoughts. But for now, my dear mortal, I must bid you goodbye. I have a sparring session with my brother to get to.”

He swept into a small, princely bow that made your heart stutter. Hugging the book to your chest, you waved goodbye, feeling much more awkward than he had been. You were also about a hundred times more determined to get Loki a perfect gift. You looked at the book again. It was a special first edition, unfortunately, and you couldn’t really do better than that. Besides, you got the impression he appreciated books more when they were well-loved. So, you could scratch that idea off the list.

You sighed and headed to your room for the night. Maybe an inspiration board could help you figure things out. Unfortunately, that led to you having a poster board with pictures solely of Loki. You’d meant to add other things, but you’d gotten so caught up in how beautiful he looked with his soft pink lips and carefully styled hair and... Ok, maybe you had the slightest, tiniest crush on the trickster god, but it was silly. You’d hardly even been friends for half a year. And yet, he was very hard to resist. You ended up destroying your project, cringing at the idea of anyone finding it and taking it the wrong way.

The next morning you woke up just as idealess as you had been the night before. You had been hoping that you could figure something out if you slept on it, but to no avail. Frustrated, you kicked your blankets off and got ready to attack the day. You absolutely hated the fact that you couldn’t come up with a gift idea on your own, and the last thing you wanted to have to do was ask someone else.

Splashing some water on your face, you had another idea that you quickly shut down. You’d thought for a second that maybe you could buy him some cologne, but then you realized you had no idea what scent or brand he used. In fact, you weren’t sure he used and fragrance at all. The smell of leather, pine, and old books that he had just suited him so well you couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a natural thing. Either way, he always smelled so safe, so wonderful. You cursed yourself for letting your thoughts take that turn again. It was a lot easier to ignore this crush when you didn’t have to be thinking about him 24/7.

Traipsing into the kitchen, you found Peter and Thor having an animated conversation about what was better, pecan or pumpkin pie. You wondered if you could bake something for Loki as a gift, then you realized that still required knowing what he likes. You would get him tea, but you already knew for a fact that was what Thor had gotten him as a regular present. Plus it was a special Asgardian blend, so there was no way you could top that.

“Good morning, guys,” you greeted as you tried to decide what to eat for breakfast.

“Morning,” they chorused back.

You bit your lip, coming to a split second decision. “Can I ask you two a question. It’s about Secret Santa.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Peter said while you took a seat across from them.

“Ok, this is top secret, right? So don’t tell anybody.” They both eagerly nodded their heads. “I know you’re both friends with Loki, and well, I picked his name. I have no clue what to get him, though. Any ideas?”

“I have the perfect idea!” Thor declared as you motioned for him to keep his voice down. “Get him some causal Midgardian clothes. You have excellent taste, I am sure he will love whatever you pick out.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Are you sure that’s not just what you want for him? I mean, he seems plenty happy to wear his Asgardian clothes around the Tower. And there’s nothing wrong with dressing up when you go out.” You sighed when Thor just seemed confused by your words, not understanding that his brother had embraced the Midgardian style as much as he wanted to. “I’ll just consider that a back-up plan for now. What about you, Peter? Any thoughts?”

“What if we just went shopping together?” he excitedly suggested. “Then if we see something we think is good, we can just point it out.”

You hurriedly agreed, anxious to get the gift-buying out of the way. The plan was to head out right after your training session with Nat and Steve. Unfortunately, that meant you were distracted nearly the whole time, leaving you with a few more bruises than normal. You loved your teammates to death, but boy did they ever need to learn how to ease up a little in practice. You stayed a few minutes extra to do some cool down stretches, and in waltzed the trickster god who had been occupying so much of your brain space recently. The way he was flipping and catching his daggers as he walked was slightly mesmerizing.

“My apologies,” he said, noticing you. “I did not think there was anyone else in here. I can come back later if you still need the space.”

“No!” you shouted as he began to turn away. It was a bit louder than you had meant to say it, and you mentally kicked yourself. “I mean, I was just on my way out, so please, stay.”

He smiled and set his things down on the bench next to yours. You eyed the daggers that had just been wielded by his expertly trained hands moments ago.

“May I?” you asked, gesturing to them.

He picked one up and handed it to you. Turning it over in your hands, you noticed that handles were slightly worn, but it was still excellently crafted. The blade had obviously been sharpened a great number of times before and was looking like it might need to be again. You’d never personally used a dagger in battle, but the way Loki was so graceful with them made a part of you want to.

“To be very precise with such a weapon,” Loki began as if reading your thoughts, “requires great focus and skill. There is no room for error when used to block another’s attack, and to deliver a powerful blow, you must strike in just the right spot.” A shiver of excitement shot down your spine as he picked up his other blade and began adeptly demonstrating, moving like a flowing river as he sliced the air. “It is much smaller than most weapons, sure. However, it is just as deadly. And if the sword is an extension of your body, the same can be said for the dagger tenfold.”

You blinked a couple times, beyond impressed by his majestic, fluid movements. It was breathtaking. He was breathtaking. Now you just had to find a way to say that without sounding obsessed.

“Wow, Loki,” you finally gasped, unable to hide your amazement. “I don’t know how you do it, but you even make weapons sound beautiful. And you’re very talented, too. I could never,” you nervously laughed.

“You are too kind to me, my dear mortal,” he said, and you felt a spark of pride in your chest that you were making him blush yet again. “You are not kind enough to yourself, though. I am certain you would be excellent. Perhaps you just need to find a teacher.”

“Would you teach me?” you asked, oddly worried to do so. You tried to calm your swelling nerves.

“Well, I did not mean to imply that I should be your instructor, for I fear that I would not be very good at it.” He watched your smile falter just the tiniest bit and found himself rushing to bring it back to full strength. “However, if you so desire, I can certainly try. I must warn you, it will not be easy.”

“Loki, you’d really do that for me?” Your heart beat a little faster in your chest as he shyly nodded his head yes. “I would love to. And don’t worry about going easy; I want to be as good as you.”

“Excellent! We shall have out first lesson, say, at the start of the New Year?”

After the plans were set, you excused yourself so you could meet your friends for shopping. You were late as it was, and you still had to go freshen up. The whole reason for the trip was you, and you’d feel bad to keep them waiting much longer. Still, you stole one last glance at Loki before exiting.

Hours later, you still had no gift for Loki. You barely even had an idea, much to your dismay. Peter and Thor kept pointing out little trinkets, a couple of which you did pick up as a regular gift for him, but your Secret Santa gift had to be a showstopper. Something about him drew you in, and you wanted to give him the most amazing present you could. If only it weren’t so difficult.

You were walking down a street when you happened to notice the trickster god himself in one of the store windows. You waved your companions on with the excuse you wanted to check something out for one of them and entered the shop Loki was at. For a second you considered just watching him to try to get some ideas, but that was quickly dashed when he let out a sigh of frustration. He just looked so perplexed and adorably aggravated.

“Hey, Loki,” you greeted after clearing your throat. “Funny running into you here. Are you alright?”

“Hello, my dear mortal. Thank you for asking,” he said. “I am alright. It is just this blasted Secret Santa.”

“I know what you mean,” you replied before you could help yourself. “But I’m, uh, not going to say who it is. I mean, you can tell me if you want to, but I’ve already told so many people it’ll hardly be a secret if anyone else knows,” you covered your tracks.

“Ah, I see. It is supposed to be a secret, and I do so ever hate to crack under the pressure, but I find myself in dire need of assistance. Do you suppose you could help?”

You beamed at him as you realized you’d talked with him more in the past few days than you had in the last three weeks. If there was one thing you knew, it was you had better be careful, or you’d get addicted to the sound of his voice. You were on thin ice with this crush as it was, you really shouldn’t let it blossom into more.

“Sure! I’d love to. Who do you have?” you finally said, looking around the store. “Wait, let me guess. Steve?”

“Stark.”

“Oh. Well, he did say cash was fine,” you giggled.

“Believe me, I was tempted,” Loki chuckled along with you. “But I promised Thor I would make more of an effort this time around. I do not know what he is talking about, though. Bruce loved his socks last year!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth as your loud laughter garnered a few stares from other shoppers. Loki’s eyes held only soft admiration, though, and your hands got a little sweaty from how nervous that made you. You subtly wiped them on your pants as you calmed down.

“Well, it you want to get something more personal, I might have an idea.”

“By all means, do tell,” he urged.

“You know that tool set he was talking about the other day?” you questioned, but were met with a blank stare. “I’ll take that as a no, but he was saying he didn’t want to get them because he doesn’t actually need them.”

“When has that ever stopped him before?” Loki scoffed.

“I guess he’s trying something new,” you shrugged. “But anyway, if you got them it would show you were thinking about what he actually liked and stuff. Or maybe that’s dumb, sorry.”

“No, no, it is a splendid idea!” he was quick to reassure you. For a second it seemed as if he was going to reach out and touch your shoulder, but then he thought better of it. “You do not happen to know where they are sold, do you?”

You nodded and led him out of the store you were in, towards the place where he could buy them. You were waiting at a corner for a light to change, amicably chatting. Nothing groundbreaking, just small talk. Regardless, it made your heart beat just a little faster. Still engrossed in the conversation, you took a step out into the crosswalk when the light said it was safe to go. You didn’t notice the car speeding towards you until Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into his chest. You gasped as he glared after the driver, who gave no acknowledgement or apology to you. The god’s arms were wrapped around you in a protective manner, and you looked up at his face, appreciating his beauty at this close angle. Given what had just happened, probably not the thing you should be focusing on.

“My dear mortal,” he fretted, looking down at you, not yet letting go. “Are you alright? You are not injured at all, are you? Shall I take you to the hospital wing to make sure?”

“I’m ok,” you reassured him, though a part of you didn’t want to. He seemed about ready to scoop you up and use his godly strength to carry you home. Alas, your moral compass decided that wouldn’t be very fair to him. “Just a little shaken, but you saved me. Thank you, Loki. That doesn’t really cut it, but thank you so much.”

“Do not mention it. I am just glad you are alright,” he replied, though his voice did still have a tint of worry to it. Maybe you were imaging it, but he seemed almost reluctant to let you go from his tight embrace. “Now, you may carefully lead the way. Carefully,” he emphasized.

With a giggle, you brought him to the store where the tools were. After browsing the aisles for a few minutes, the two of you found the shelf they were on. With a frown, you examined the price tag.

“Sorry, Loki,” you said. “I didn’t realize how expensive it was.”

“It is fine,” he replied, looking at the cost himself. “This is actually plenty within my price range.”

You waited outside of the busy store while he made his purchase and checked your phone. You felt a pang of guilt as you noticed a number of missed texts from Peter and Thor.

Sorry guys, you texted the group chat. Ran into someone I know and got carried away. Carry on without me.

Don’t worry, came Peter’s reply. See you back home :)

You pocketed your phone as Loki walked back out, giving you a smile. You looked at the ground to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“I hope I am not keeping you from anything,” he said as you started walking back towards the Tower. “Is there any shopping I can assist you with?”

You lamented the irony of the situation. Despite the entire point of this venture being to buy a gift for Loki, you were still empty handed. It was tempting to try to ask him what he wanted, but you were sure he was far more clever than you were subtle.

“No, I’m good, thanks. But if you don’t mind my asking, how do you have so much money?” you asked to satisfy your curiosity. “I mean, Tony’s always complaining about how you use his credit card.”

“That, my dear mortal, is simply because I can,” he replied as you both laughed. “I have been around for much longer than you might imagine. I have amassed a certain amount of wealth in my many years.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool, actually. You’re making me wish I was an immortal being,” you joked.

“And tell me, my dear mortal, if you were to treat yourself to something nice, what would it be?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Maybe I’d go to a nice restaurant,” you finally said. “It doesn’t have to be anything too far from home. Oh! Like, Nobu has really good sushi.”

“Well then, perhaps I will have to pay for us to have a meal there sometime.”

“Yeah! I bet the team would really like that.”

“Actually,” he sheepishly said, bringing you to a stop on the sidewalk, “I meant for just the two of us to go. That is, if you would like to. Maybe one day after we start our training. You are not obligated to say yes, though. The offer for me to pay is still open if you would like to take another friend instead of me.”

“Loki, no. That’s so generous, of course I’d love to go with you,” you reassured him, settling a hand on his arm. Though, admittedly, you were beyond flustered, especially when you realized how that last sentence sounded. “I mean as friends, of course. It sounds amazing, thank you.”

“Well then, I look forward to it.” He brought his hand to rest on yours, and goosebumps erupted on your skin, not only from his cold touch, but the wave of excitement you felt. “And speaking of our lessons, I was thinking you may want some daggers of your own. We do not have to get them now but-”

“That’s it!” you suddenly shouted, then apologized for cutting him off. “Can I borrow your daggers, Loki? To go get myself a pair?”

He offered to come with you, but you waved him off, saying you’d be fine on your own. It was a little suspicious, he thought, but decided to drop it. Handing you the weapons, he bid you goodbye. As soon as he was out of eyesight, you examined the daggers, trying to get a clear picture in your mind of what you wanted.

A few quick stops later, and after gaining permission from Tony, you were in the lab, carefully crafting Loki’s gift. It took a few days, and you were by no means used to doing this kind of thing, but you were finally satisfied with the finished product. You wrapped it and then hid it with the rest of your presents, just waiting to be given to their recipients. With only a few days left until Christmas Eve, you were filled with an anxious excitement to give Loki his gift. There was nothing left to do but hope that he likes it.

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

...You looked everywhere but at Loki as you approached him, nerves bubbling in your stomach. By the time you reached him, his mouth had curled into a soft smile. It occurred to you that you’d never seen him look that way at anyone but you. Building on the confidence that thought brought, you held out the gift.

“Here, Loki,” you told him, averting your gaze again. “This is for you.”

You perched on the edge of the coffee table across from him as he accepted the package with a thank you. There was some light chatter coming from the rest of your teammates, but it felt like the only people in the world at this moment were you and Loki, his fingers skillfully unwrapping the present. You sat on your hands to keep from fidgeting with them. It took all your focus to keep your eyes on Loki and not wandering the room in anticipation. As he opened the lid of the box and revealed what was inside, his mouth formed into a surprised “o”.

He picked up the gift, a pair of new daggers, each with a gold hilt. His name was engraved on it, and there was a band of emeralds at the top and bottom. You’d made them the same dimensions as his old ones.

“My dear mortal,” he breathed in awe, his eyes full of sincerity, coming up to met yours. “This is so thoughtful, so beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Loki. I’m really glad you like it.”

“I do. I love it,” he replied, taking your hand in his for the briefest of moments. He pulled away before anyone could really think anything of it. Neither of you said anything else, instead just staring into each other’s eyes.

“Ok, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, interrupting the moment you were sharing with Loki. “Now it’s your turn. So, who’d you get?”

“Well, actually, I picked your name, Stark. Here,” he said, nonchalantly handing over the gift. Though he seemed completely uninterested, you could tell he was a little nervous. “For you.”

“Alright, let’s see what it is. I swear, this better not be socks or-” Tony cut off, seeing the very thing he wanted. “Wow, Rock of Ages. This is really thoughtful. Thanks. I had no idea you actually listened,” he finished with a laugh.

“You are quite welcome,” Loki said, but he was more looking at you than Tony.

Later that evening, after all the gifts were given out, you were sitting by the fireplace, waiting for the flames to completely die out. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, your feet pulled up next to you, a blanket draped over your shoulders, and a book open on your lap.

“My dear mortal,” Loki’s voice suddenly said as he appeared in the doorway, pulling you from the words on the page. “I thought you were supposed to be in bed, lest Santa skip this house and move onto the next.”

“Yes, but I have to make sure the fire goes out so he can get in,” you laughed, playing along. “As long as I’m up, I wouldn’t mind some company. Care to join me?”

Wordlessly, he sat down, and you closed your book. The both of you just stared at the dying flames in a peaceful silence for a while. Your mind seemed to be content to be filled with thoughts of Loki; the way he was sitting so close, the way his hands kept brushing his hair away from his face every few moments, the way he’d looked at you earlier when he’d received your gift. After you weren’t sure exactly how long, he gently said your name, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?” you replied.

“I truly do your love your gift. It is beyond lovely, your generosity and thoughtfulness a true reflection of what is in your brilliant soul.”

“Loki, I can’t even express how happy I am to hear that. And thank you for your beautiful words.”

“Speaking of,” he nervously said, “the gift that I have for you, it is, well, my words. A poem. I am sorry to say, I would be a little self-conscious to give it to you in front of everyone else. Would I... Would I be able to recite it to you now?”

“Of course, Loki. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m just grateful that you’re willing to share it with me.”

“Alright then, my dear mortal. Here goes nothing.”

You shifted to a more position as he took a deep breath and opened up a journal. You waited with bated breath as he began to speak.

“From your eyes that shine as the brightest stars, to your smile that's a reflection of your radiant heart. From your gentle hands that fit as though they belong in mine, to your laugh that stops my perception of time. You've shown me kindness when I didn't feel I deserved it, you welcomed me into your world with a caring embrace and showed me I am not my mistakes. My heart beats stronger for you, the love that I feel couldn't be more true. If you will have me, I will show you the world, for you have shown me the universe, the place also known as your touch, as your mind, as your heart, as your soul. You, you are my universe.”

He looked at you expectantly, but with a hesitation understandable given what he’d just confessed. You wanted to tell him how you felt just as eloquently, but were dumbstruck that the feelings were even reciprocated.

“Loki,” you said, holding his cold hands in your warm ones. “That’s so beautiful and I-I love you, too.”

He seemed just as shocked as you that the feeling could be mutual. He squeezed your hands, at a loss for words for the first time since you’d known him. With no one to interrupt you this time, you remained lost in each other’s emotion-filled eyes. It was Loki who broke the silence.

“My dear mortal, I... May I kiss you?”

You answered by surging forward and pressing your lips to his. His hands came to cup your cheeks, and yours found his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks. He tasted like heaven, and you sighed against his mouth. You could have stayed that way forever, and yet it could never be enough. Sadly, you had to pull away, but Loki was quick to pull you against him, holding you to his chest as if he didn’t believe you’d stay, didn’t believe he could have something so wonderful.

You stayed like that for a while, conveying things even words couldn’t say in the silence, just holding each other. Eventually, you began talking, enjoying the way a light conversation was flowing between you. Your eyes were drooping shut as you snuggled against his chest, the final embers of the fire going out. You glanced at the clock and saw that it read midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Loki,” you whispered. “There’s no one I’d rather be with than you.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, my dear mortal. I could write you a thousand poems, and still I would never properly express how much I feel the same.”

As sleep slowly claimed you, it occurred to you that you may have never even admitted how you feel without the whole Secret Santa ordeal. It seemed that it had revealed more secrets than you’d ever expected, and for that, you’d be forever grateful.

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds

Dukeceit Week Day 3: Snakes/Bugs

Remus and Janus break up. But literally everyone knows that's not what they want. Everyone, including their plants.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 4337

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

Unknown Number

hey so i kno i said i wouldnt text u but rupert isnt doin good. can i bring him back? he misses u

Janus stared at the text for several minutes. Rupert was, of course, the Monstera Variegata that he and Remus had raised together all the way from propagation. It had been one of the pride and joys of their plant collection. Losing Rupert in the split had hurt almost as much as losing Remus.

...Almost. 

Janus

Is it getting enough light? Remember it needed the grow light even next to the window. 

Janus texted back against his better judgement. He and Remus were broken up. They’d agreed not to text for a while. They’d agreed to give each other space, get used to being apart. 

It sucked, though. The apartment felt empty without Remus and half their plant collection.

Unknown Number

ya i kno. but i don’t have any south facign windows here. our place is better

Unknown Number

i mean ur place

Janus sighed morosely. Well, if it was for Rupert…

Janus

Fine. Rupert can come back.

Unknown Number

yay! ill be in town this weekend. ill bring him ok?

Janus

Ok.

And then Janus promptly threw his phone across the room.

Because here’s the thing. Janus and Remus were broken up. Remus had moved eight hours away and everything. He’d been accepted into the Nuclear Engineering graduate program a state away, and they had both heard too many horror stories about long-distance relationships to brother trying. So they’d had a very civil and mutual split. Janus kept the apartment. Remus took the TV. And they’d divided their plant family between them: they each kept their favorites, and Remus had taken the hardier plants, while Janus kept the ones that were likely not to survive an interstate move.

And then… Remus left.

And Janus had not immediately wanted him back. Not at all.

(And, of course, Janus was lying to himself.)

Remus texted him Saturday morning that he was on his way, and Janus spent the first few hours of the wait stress-cleaning. He then checked on every single plant in the apartment. Watered the ones that needed it. Rotated some of the more vivacious growers so that they wouldn’t lean full-body toward their light source. Moved his small army of Sansevierias out to the apartment balcony for some extra sun.   

Then, when all that still failed to fill up the entire eight hours of waiting, he started stress-cooking. So by the time Remus texted that he’d just gotten off the highway, Janus had himself a pot of minestrone soup simmering on the stove, a tray of made-from-scratch lasagna in the oven, and was mixing up a batch of double chocolate chip cookies. 

There was no way he was going to eat all this food himself, he realized. He was so used to booking big meals like this, because Remus ate like he was three people. And lasagna was his favorite.

“Oh, Jake, what am I doing?” he groaned to the N’Joy Pothos that cascaded down the side of the refrigerator. And then his doorbell rang. 

Janus opened the door to find Remus, dancing awkwardly from foot to foot, with his face half-hidden behind the green-and-white leaves of Rupert. 

“...Hey,” Remus said, sounding sheepish. Janus’ heart clenched.

“Hi,” he said. They stood there in the doorway for a full minute before Janus stepped back and motioned for Remus to follow. Remus hesitated, but obeyed. 

“Uh… I’ll just…” Remus looked around. Janus hated how uncomfortable he looked. Until about two weeks ago, this had been Remus’ apartment, too. “Can I put him in his old spot?”

“Sure,” Janus replied with a nod. Rupert’s old spot had been in the bedroom, where the big, beautiful south-facing window let in a ton of light. He’d moved Venus de Milos, his Marble Queen Pothos, and La Hoya Jackson, the finicky Hoya Carnosa that Remus had wanted but didn’t expect to make the 8-hour drive without going into shock, to free up Rupert’s spot. Remus hesitated again, before he nodded awkwardly and wandered off to the bedroom, all three feet of plant and two gallons of soil in tow. Janus went to the oven and took out the lasagna. 

“Howl looks good,” Remus said when he came back into the kitchen. Janus glanced up from where he was laying balls of cookie dough out onto baking sheets. 

“Thank you,” he replied. Howl was their dramatic fiddle leaf fig tree, which had decided to throw a fit just before Remus left. “I switched it to a terracotta pot with peat moss and pearlite, and doubled its water intake. It seems to be tolerating it well.”

“Good.” There was a long pause. Then,” How are you?”

Janus looked back to the cookies. “I’m doing well,” he lied. “And you? Do you start class soon?”

“Next week,” Remus answered. “And, uh. Yeah, I’m doin’ good.” Another long pause. “Uh… I’ll just. Head out, I guess.”

“You could stay,” Janus blurted out. Shit. “For dinner, I mean.” He gestured to the tray of lasagna, fresh from the oven. “If you want.”

Remus gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, then nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything, though, so Janus just gestured for him to take a seat at the table. And then he joined him, a plate of lasagna for each of them.

“So tell me, how’s living with Roman again?” Janus asked, a few bites into the meal, because he could not take the awkward silence a moment longer.

“It’s ok,” Remus answered. He shoveled another forkful of lasagna into his mouth. “This is really good, Jan.”

Janus smiled softly. “Thank you.” A pause. “Roman doesn’t mind all the plants?”

“Nah, he’s dating this guy Patton who apparently loves plants, so the apartment being full of houseplants is a huge plus to him now.”

“Good for him.” The oven timer went off, startling him slightly. He started to get up, but Remus waved him off.

“I got ‘em, you did all the cooking.”

Janus didn’t protest. Remus got up and took the cookies out of the oven. And he even moved them to a cooling rack like Janus had taught him to do. He came back to the table. 

“How’s work?”

Janus sighed. “Oh, terrible as always,” he answered. “I really must start looking for a new job.”

“Finally getting fed up?” Remus teased. Janus rolled his eyes. More seriously, Remus continued, “You deserve better, Jan. You gotta find some place that treats you right and pays you what you’re worth.”

“Thank you, Remus.”

“And hey, just sayin’, I still think you’d make an excellent stripper.”

Janus snorted at that. “I haven’t fully ruled out that particular career change.”

They fell easily back into their usual banter, lingering late into the night over a dessert of milk and cookies. It was pushing 10pm when Remus glanced at his phone and cursed softly. Janus glanced at his phone as well.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said. Remus shrugged.

“Nah, it’s cool. Thanks for dinner, Jan. It was real good, as always.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Uh… well, the plan was to stay with Logan, but I guess he had some kind of family emergency, so I don’t wanna trouble him. I’ll probably see if I can find a hotel room.”

Janus’ brow furrowed at that. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t wanna trouble you. I kinda feel like I already overstayed my welcome a bit?”

“Nonsense. A hotel room will cost you at least $100 for the night, and that’s simply ridiculous,” Janus insisted. “You should just stay here.”

Remus worried at his lip, which Janus knew meant he was mulling over his options. Then, he nodded. “If it’s not a bother?”

“Of course not. You’re not a bother, Remus.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and he smiled. “Ok. Thank you. Oh… lemmie go get my overnight back outta my truck.”

When Remus came back inside, Janus had just about finished making up the couch. 

“Hey, you don’t gotta get all fancy,” Remus teased. “You know I can sleep basically anywhere.”

“This is for me,” Janus replied. He fluffed up one of the pillows a bit more. “You take the bed.”

An odd look flashed across Remus’ face. “No way, Jan. I’m good on the couch.”

“Remus, you just drove eight hours, and you’re doing it again tomorrow. I am not letting you fuck up your back.”

‘I don’t-”

“Yes you do, no matter how often you say you can sleep anywhere,” Janus scoffed. “You can’t lie to me.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and after a moment, he sighed. “Ok, Jan. But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You hate sleeping on couches.”

“It’s only one night-”

“And don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Yes, but-”

“You’re going to be so grumpy at work without a proper night’s sleep.”

“I’m usually grumpy at work anyway,” Janus pointed out. Remus snorted.

“Ok, that’s true. But I don’t want you to be even grumpier,” he said. “Let’s just share the bed.”

Janus eyed him for a moment. This was a terrible idea. They should not do this.

“Ok,” Janus said anyway.

They got ready for bed in awkward silence, which just made Janus miss Remus’ long, rambling chatter that much more. When Janus finished in the bathroom, he found Remus sitting gingerly on what used to be his side of the bed. Janus came over and sat down on the other side.

“Hey, uh… thanks,” Remus said. “For lettin’ me stay.”

“Of course,” Janus answered. “I… I still think of you as a friend, Remus.”

At that. Remus grimaced slightly. He didn’t say anything, seeming unable to find the right words. Before he could, Janus pulled back the top blankets on the bed and laid down. After a moment, Remus did the same.

“Good night, Remus,” Janus said quietly.

“...Good night, Janus,” Remus answered. Then he reached over and shut off the light.

-

Remus played that night over and over in his head in the days after he got home, and each and every time, he was just as stumped. 

He knew, in his brain, why he and Janus had broken up. It had been the only thing that made sense at the time, when the facts were just that Remus was moving away to pursue a lifelong dream, and Janus would never ever try to stop him from doing so. So they broke up. It made sense… right? 

But… That morning, he’d woken up to Janus curled up in his arms, face smushed against Remus’ neck, and… Remus had completely forgotten why they had even broken up in the first place.

Remus was back at Roman’s apartment, now. Eight hours away in his own cold bed, arms empty of the man he loved, just staring at the ceiling. A sharp knock on his door snapped him out of his daze.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Roman called. “Don’t you have class in like an hour?”

“Fuck!” Remus scrambled to get up, but succeeded only in rolling out of the bed.

“Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave,” Roman added. Clearly he was unconcerned by the loud “thump” of a body hitting the floor. 

“Yup, got it,” Remus groaned in reply. He staggered, successfully this time, to his feet. 

Getting dressed was a rushed affair of ‘grab whatever’s closest,’ and soon he emerged from the bedroom with one shoe on, the other in his hand, and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He rushed into the kitchen to grab the travel mug of coffee Janus always set out for him in the mornings. And then the realization hit: Janus didn’t live here.

Remus dropped his shoe. 

The rest of the day went about as well as it could have gone without any coffee- that is to say, terribly. He got lost trying to get to campus, then he got lost again trying to get to class. Then he got stuck in traffic on the way back to Roman’s apartment. And then, to top it all off, the grocery store had been out of his favorite chips. 

So here he was, mopey and chip-less, and fucking exhausted. He dumped his backpack and collapsed face-first onto the couch. Roman, who happened to be sitting on said couch, made a noise of protest.

“Move, I need to sulk,” Remus mumbled, though his voice was thoroughly muffled by Roman’s thigh, since that was where his face had landed. 

“What on earth do you need to sulk for?” Roman asked incredulously. He moved to shove Remus off of him, but Remus went full ragdoll, and Roman couldn’t do a damn thing. “You are a grown man, you know.”

Remus turned his head just enough to stick his tongue out at Roman. Roman stuck his tongue out back.

“I had a terrible day, I earned a good sulk.”

“Didn’t like your classes?”

“Nah, they were great.”

“Professors?”

“Great.”

“Classmates?”

“Great.”

“Then Zeus Almighty, what are you so mopey-dopey about?” Roman remanded.

Remus squirmed around so he was laying on his back, head still in Roman’s lap, to look up at his brother. “So… uh… you promise not to get all, like. I told you so and shit?” 

“You miss Janus!”

“No! I-”

“You do!” Roman crowed triumphantly. Remus rolled onto his side so he didn’t have to look at his brother’s dumb gloaty face.

“...Maybe,” he groaned. Abruptly, he clamored to his feet and started for the stairs. “I gotta go build a chair.”

“Carpentry won’t solve your relationship problems,” Roman called after him.

“I know,” Remus called back. “Wrong type of wood.” If Roman had a response to that, Remus was already out the door and didn’t have to hear it. 

Patton found him out in front of the apartment building some time later, a jigsaw in hand, and a pile of cut wooden dowels at his feet.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you up to?”

Remus looked up from where he was balancing a plank of wood precariously across a milk crate, because his work table was one of the things he’d had to leave behind at Janus’ place.

“Oh, hey. Ro-bro’s upstairs.”

Patton gave him the sort of smile teachers gave to the kid they caught eating glue for the fourth time. “That doesn’t look super safe. Do you want any help?”

Remus took in Patton’s soft blue sweater and the dad-jeans from the nicer end of his closet, as well as the reusable grocery store bag that smelled suspiciously like some kind of lovely home-cooked meal; he shook his head. “You look dressed for a date night,” he said. “I don’t wanna fuck up two relationships this week.”

Patton’s eyes, impossibly, got even bigger and softer than they normally were, which honestly was quite the feat. He walked over to the stairs but, instead of making his way up to Roman’s apartment, he plopped down on the third step, facing Remus. Remus stared, bewildered.

“Uh, what’chu doin’ there, pops?”

“Well, it just sounded like you needed to talk,” Patton replied cheerfully. “So here I am.”

Remus stared a moment longer, somehow even more bewildered than before. “Uh…”

“I know I haven’t known you very long,” Patton continued. “But something tells me you’re the type of person who busts out the power tools when you’re upset.”

“How the hell can you tell that?”

Patton glanced over his shoulder, then leaned forward slightly. “Because,” he said, voice lowered conspiratorially. “I’m like that too.”

Remus blinked. “You?”

“Yup! I replaced all the tables and chairs in my house with ones I made myself after my last breakup,” Patton giggled. “Only two of them collapsed when I sat in them, too!”

Remus glanced down at the jigsaw in his hands, and then he sighed. He set it down, and went to sit next to Patton on the steps. 

“Ok, well. Yeah, maybe I’m kinda upset.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah? No? Maybe?”

“Yup, those are your three options!” Patton teased. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Ok, fine. You win, daddy-o. I’m upset because I miss my boyfriend. Or, well, my ex-boyfriend. I want him to be my boyfriend again.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Of course not,” Remus whined.

“Why not?”

“Because… I mean. It wouldn’t change anything. I still moved away. And I don’t even know if he’d want to be my boyfriend again either. Maybe he’s happier now.”

“You don’t know that,” Patton said gently. “Sure, maybe the circumstances aren’t the best right now, but if you both want it, things have a funny way of working out. But you have to talk to him.”

“I…” Remus paused. And then he sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right. Hey thanks, that did actually sorta help.”

Patton offered him a gentle smile. “Of course, Remus! Any time!”

“Hey!”

They both turned to see Roman standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed.

“My own brother, hogging my boyfriend like this! The betrayal-”

“Relax, Ro, he’s not my type,” Remus shot back. “I prefer sarcastic little menaces.”

Patton giggled at that. He stood up and patted Remus on the shoulder. “I hope things work out,” he said. Remus smiled back.

“Yeah, I hope so too.”

Really, he just wanted Janus to be happy. Ideally with him, but if Janus was happier without him, well… so be it. 

- - -

Janus was miserable. 

“Dude, c’mon,” Virgil grumbled, immediately upon seeing the state of the apartment. “You’ve been watering your plants and filling the humidifiers, but you can’t be bothered to throw out your gross pizza boxes?” A pause. “Wait, you don’t even like pizza, what the hell.”

Janus just shrugged. After letting Virgil and Logan into the apartment, he’d gone straight back into blanket-burrito-on-the-couch mode. And really, he’d only bothered to get up and let them inside in the first place because Virgil had threatened to axe down the door- and Janus knew for a fact that Virgil owned multiple axes. 

“I believe he is engaging in what is described as ‘emotional eating,’ or using food as a coping mechanism in a time of stress and emotional turmoil,” Logan said helpfully. Virgil just huffed.

“That’s fine and all, but Jesus Christ, dude.” He gestured around the livingroom where… ok, yeah, it was a mess.

“Did you two come here just to insult me?” Janus grumbled. His face was half-mashed into a pillow, though, so who knows how much of that was actually discernible.

“We came to make sure you were still alive,” Virgil snapped, indicating that at least most of what Janus had said was discernible. “You weren’t answering any texts.”

“Yes, and you called out of work three days in a row,” Logan added. “We are concerned for you, Janus.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Janus lied from the comfort of his depression blanket burrito. He was not particularly surprised when neither Virgil or Logan looked even remotely convinced.

“Alright, drastic measure time,” Virgil growled. He walked over to the window, and picked up the young Burgundy Rubber Tree Janus had yet to name. Janus sat bolt upright. 

“Virgil? Don’t you dare-”

Virgil walked past him and vanished down the hall. When he came back, his hands were empty, and he had a smirk on his face.

“Oh, fuck you,” Janus hissed. He dragged himself up off the couch to go rescue the poor thing, finding it stashed in the dark, windowless bathroom. When he came back to the livingroom, Virgil and Logan were sprawled across the couch.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Janus set the rubber tree back on the windowsill alongside the Snake Plant Army. “Ok, I’m up. Are you heathens happy now?”

“I take offense to that,” Logan muttered, while Virgil just crossed his arms and said, curtly, “Spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset-”

“Falsehood,” Logan interrupted. “I have known you since high school, Janus, and I have never seen you like this before. It is highly alarming.”

“Is this about Remus?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Janus said immediately. “Of course not.”

Virgil and Logan exchanged a Look. Janus groaned.

“Fuck. Ok, fine. Maybe it is.”

“Was that so hard?” Virgil asked. 

“Yes.”

“You-”

“Janus,” Logan interrupted Virgil’s retort. “It is my understanding that emotional distress is often alleviated through, as they say, ‘talking it out.’ It is clear you are not handling the break-up as well as you initially believed-”

“Of course I’m not!” Janus snapped. He took a deep breath, and turned back to the plants on his windowsill. Kaa, the Sansevieria Moonshine Remus had gotten for Janus as an anniversary present last year, was already leaning slightly toward the window again. He rotated it, and a few of the other snake plants on the sill. And then he realized the others had been quiet for far too long. He turned to find them both watching him with sympathetic expressions. “What?”

“Keep going,” Virgil prompted. Janus sighed. He felt exhausted.

“Of course I’m not,” he said again. “Because I love Remus.”

“And?” Virgil prompted.

“...And I didn’t want us to break up,” he finished, feeling glum. Wordlessly, Virgil stood up, and approached Janus, arms out. Janus stepped into the embrace. Nobody said anything; Janus didn’t cry, but he stood there for a long time. Then, he stepped back.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. Virgil gave him a small smile. Logan cocked his head, seeming confused.

“I don’t understand. You just… needed a hug?”

“Hugs are great, Logan,” Virgil replied. “You should try them sometime- hey, where are you going?”

Janus strode past them both, beelining for his bedroom to find his laptop. Over his shoulder, he answered, “To fill out some job applications.”

- - -

Remus was outside building a new bookshelf- because Patton was moving in, and Roman's teenie-tiny sad little excuse for a bookshelf, which held only Disney DVDs and no actual books, wouldn’t suffice for all of Patton’s cookbooks- when his phone rang. Which was weird, because nobody ever called him, because he never fucking answered.

“Not interested, Mr. Spam Man,” he crooned over the sound of the generic iPhone ringtone. He was learning how to do kerf bending for this bookcase, and goddamn it he wasn’t going to be distracted by-

His phone started ringing again. He swore and ripped off his gloves to silence his phone. But as he did so, he realized the number flashing across his screen was a familiar one. 

“Janus? Are you ok?” he answered the call, half panicked, because Janus hated phone calls almost as much as he did.

“Hi. Yes, everything’s fine.” Janus sounded slightly hysterical, which made Remus feel even more frantic. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Roman’s. Are you sure you’re ok-”

“Great, don’t leave. I’ll be right there.”

“What does that mean-” Remus demanded, but the line was already dead. Remus swore again. He briefly considered calling him back, because what the actual fuck was that all about, but he was only about 30 seconds into that brief consideration before a familiar car tearing through the apartment complex parking lot caught his attention. He quickly brushed as much of the sawdust off his clothes as he could because holy shit Janus had just parked right there in front of Roman’s apartment.

Remus watched, dumbfounded, as Janus scrambled out of his car- dressed in his very nice black suit and pale yellow button-up- and came running across the lawn toward where Remus was working. He had a tiny plant clutched to his chest.

“Uh, Jan, you good?” Remus asked. Janus stopped in front of him and doubled over, breathless, for a few moments. Then, he straightened up, and fixed Remus with a look of sheer determination.

“Remus. I want to get back together.”

Remus’ heart, the traitorous bastard, leaped up into his throat and blocked all his words from coming out. 

“It’s… it’s ok if you don’t want that,” Janus continued. His look of determination faltered slightly. “It’s ok. But I needed to tell you. Because I love you, so much. And I… I didn’t want you to think I didn’t, even if you don't-”

Remus found his words abruptly. “Jan, fuck! I do! I do love you. I never stopped loving you. All I want is to be with you.”

Janus’ eyes softened. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Good, because I’ve just been offered a job here.”

Remus choked. Janus was eyeing him smugly. “You. Just like that, you got a job here?”

“Just like that,” Janus grinned. “I just came from the interview. They offered me a position on the spot.”

Remus couldn't help himself any longer. He lurched forward and pulled Janus tightly into his arms.

“Hey, be careful,” Janus said, though he made absolutely no effort to get out of Remus’ embrace. “You’ll crush our new son.”

Remus pulled back just enough to look at the small plant Janus held in his hands, and only then did his brain register what it was. 

“Is! Is that-”

“Yes,” Janus replied, holding up the tiny Drosera Capensis seedling. Remus had wanted one of these for ages.

“For me?”

“Well, for us, ideally,” Janus answered, with a shy smile. “But, mostly for you, yes.”

Remus gently plucked the baby octopus plant- their new son!- from Janus’ hands, and placed it carefully on top of the milk crate that was serving as his carpentry workbench. Then, he hoisted Janus up off the ground and spun him around.

“Oh- Re-” Janus exclaimed, though he was laughing. “Put me down!”

“No!” Remus trilled. He spun Janus around once more. Then he just stood there, holding Janus, gazing up at him. Janus’ eyes grew soft. Slowly, he carded his fingers through Remus’ hair.

“Hey,” Janus said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Remus set Janus down, but kept his arms still wrapped tightly around him. His heart felt warm.

“Hey.”

Janus looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I love you, too.” 

[toorumochi]

Hello~ I created some KaruShuu Headcanons for you guys~ hope you enjoy ❤️🧡 (Questions ain’t mine, I just answered them) Also some of them are based off fanfics I have written/read.

Who rocks the Ferris Wheel seat and who flips out and begs them to stop?

KARMA IS A BITCH AND IS ROCKING THE FERRIS WHEEL SEAT WHILE SHUU IS HOLDING ONTO THE POLE FOR DEAR LIFE

Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place and at any time?

Hm. Both. Lmao

Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Karma is the sexy time, always time and Shuu is the relaxing time one BUT. That doesn’t mean he isn’t playing along with Karma

Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put some clothes on?

Karma. Karma walks around at least half naked maybe some boxers - and it’s not like shuu doesn’t enjoy watching his manly man walking around the house beefy af and flexing his muscles without even trying but he still tells karma to put some clothes on

Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

I DONT CAREEE HOW SOFT THE ARGUMENT WAS. KARMA SLEEPS ON THE COUCH.

Who takes photos of the other while they sleep?

BOTH DO. BOTH DO TAKE PICS OF THE OTHER ONE AND THEY TEASE THEM WITH THE PICS LATER ON

Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

I would say that Karma was the first one who said ‘I love you’ and the ‘bc I love you’ feels like smth Shuu would say

Who likes to wear the others sweatshirts?

Shuu likes to wear Karmas, and then:

“...shuu pls give me my clothes back I swear I have nothing to wear-“

Who wakes the other up in the middle of the night to tell them a cool dream they had? Who has the most nightmares, and who sings them back to sleep after?

Karma would be the one with cool dreams and wake Shuu up but since Shuu is a supporting bf/husband he will listen to him ❤️ and when it comes to nightmares, I would say that Shuu gets them but Karma is always there to comfort him ❤️❤️

Who is more likely to cheat?

No❤️ but if it’s in a video game- karma. He is a little bitc-

Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

NDNSNSNSBD KARMA WOULD MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT LIKE

“Wait whattt??? You have a crush on me? Omggg stahp I’m blushing now”

“......Karma we are dating-“

Or better!

“What? Omg- really? You actually have a crush on me? Damn Shuu why didn’t you tell me”

“...Karma we are marrIED-“

Who starts a food fight in the kitchen?

Karma is a little bitch and he would start with maybe splashing some water onto Shuu and then Shuu turns to face him with a straight face “oh it’s on”

Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Both initiate duets; anywhere and everywhere - and Shuu is the better singer. Karma sounds like a bitch

Who starts the hand holding? Who grabs the others butt? Who slides their arm around their waist? Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops?

Hmmm maybe Karma would take it easy with the hand holding; like he would start taking Shuus hand when they are at home and when it comes to public he lets it be and waits for Shuu; cause if he is ready to hold hands, Karma is ready too.

GRABBING BUTTS- OMG PLS. KARMA. KARMA WOULD. AND AND HE WOULD TEASE SHUU ABOUT BEING HEAVIER THAT HE IS AND SAY THAT HIS ASS IS 4KG HEAVIER.

AND THE ARM SLIDING AROUND THE WAIST- *slams fist on the table* KARMA WOULD DO THIS ANYWHERE LITERALLY ANYWHERE.

AND THE BELT LOOPS- SHUU. SHUU WOULD THIS BUT LIKE HE WOULD DO IT AS A SIGN THAT HE IS UNCOMFORTABLE AND WANTS TO LEAVE SO HE SHOWS IT TO KARMA THAT WAY AND I THINK ITS ADORABLE.

Who likes to write the others name on their wrist?

Karma would doodle his own name on Shuus arm during study sessions or so ksksksks bonus: Shuu does NOT wash it off, when in the shower, he has this one hand stretched out so the water won’t touch the doodle.

Who is more seductive when they are drunk? and who is louder in bed?

Shuu. Both is Shuu. Pls.

Who is more protective?

Karma is pretty protective- but not in an obsessive way, more like taking care of Shuu and his health as well as his eating habits and sleep

Who talks to the other while they are sleeping?

Karma would just talk and talk till Shuu falls asleep but karma KEEPS ON TALKI-

Who drives and who has the window seat?

Karma drives bc he is the most terrain oriented and besides, Shuu likes to drink from time to time (like coming back from parties or so) so there is no way that a drunk Shuu at the steering wheel would survive.

Who falls asleep in the others lap and who carries them to bed?

Shuu would fall asleep in Karmas lap (DURING SHREK MARATHONSSS 🥴 Idk if anyone gets that but in my fanfics on Wattpad Karma is OBSESSED with Shrek lmao so Shrek marathons >>>) and Karma would carry him to bed.

Who cuts the others hair?

I would say Shuu would cut Karmas hair, pls he is perfect at everything. (.......except cooking and baking *clears throat*)

Who is super bad at sexting? and who sends them encouraging messages throughout the day?

Shuu is hella bad at sexting, but when he is drunk he is the god of flirting lmao

And the encouraging ones- hm... both djdjdjd

Who thinks they are not good enough for the others love? and who’s more afraid of loosing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

AAAAAA NOOOO *war flashbacks: “You’re my Moron” fanfic ending II”*

Who starts random slow dancing with the other in the kitchen? Who holds the other just above the ground and kisses them?

KARMA KARMA KARMA WOULD. KARMA WOULD START TO RANDOMLY SLOW DANCE WITH SHUU IN THE KITCHEN AND THEN KISS HIM AAAAA

Who says shitty puns and sex jokes just to see the other giggle and blush?

KARMA DOES THIS IN THE MOST INAPPROPRIATE TIMES PLS

Who kissed first?

OH OH!!!

I think!!! That if maybe Karma was the first one to confess bc come on, Shuu has a reputation so yea, but when it comes to first kiss- Shuu would. Shuu would be the one who kisses Karma like totally randomly, maybe hanging out at each other houses and watching a movie and then Shuu leaNS IN AND KISSES HIM AAAAA-

Who orders take out at two in a morning? and who wakes the other up at three in the morning to go downstairs with them to get a glass of water because it’s too dark?

JDJSJSHS KARMA WOULD ORDER TAKE OUT BUT ONLY WHEN THEY ARE MAKING MOVIE MARATHONS AND THE FOOD RUNS OUT- AND THE THREE AM WATER GETTING IS SHUU BC HE IS JUST SCARED OF THE DARK YES.

Who writes poems/stories and love songs about the other? Do they sing the songs the write for them?

YES. THIS. SHUU WOULD. Since he plays many instruments, he finds himself creating love songs for Karma butttt he wouldn’t give them to him bc he would be too embarrassed ndndndnd on the other hand, Karma would write poetry and stories for Shuu like very dorky ones and cute and Shuu finds it adorable on the inside but he has to keep his reputation and standards and stuff like that up so he just says it’s stupid but let me tell you, that boy loves Karmas poetry and stories

Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

KARMA WOULD TRY TO IMPRESS AND THEN BAM. HOSPITAL.

BUT. JUST BC KARMA IS A DORK, IT DOESNT MEAN THAT SHUU ISN’T. IMAGINE SHUU TRYING TO BAKE SMTH FOR KARMA FOR THE FIRST TIME AND HE FUCKS UP SO BADLY THEY HAD TO CALL A FIRE DEPARTMENT-

Who is embarrassed when they have to wear their glasses and who thinks they look super cute?

KARMA WOULD WEAR GLASSES BUT HE WOULDN’T BE EMBARRASSED BUTTT SHUU WOULD FIND HIM EVEN MORE ATTRACTIVE

who worries about what they will look like when they are older?

BOTH, they worry that they won’t be good looking enough for the other one

who hogs the blanket?

Karma is a hoe.

who eats the others uneaten pizza crusts?

Pls, Shuu would rather die than not eat his own pizza left overs butttt Karma sometimes wont finish them and Shuu gladly accepts 😩❤️ (also a fanfic reference, bc Shuu loves pizza in that one fanfic so yea-)

who is more likely to cry over a sad book or movie?

BOTH BUT WHEN THEY ARE WATCHING A MOVIE TOGETHER AND ITS SAD THEY WONT ADMIT NOR SHOW IT

who talks while playing video games?

KARMA WOULD CONSTANTLY TALK AND THAT WAY HE CAN BEAT SHUU BC HE DISTRACTS HIM BUT SHUU ALSO TALKS BC HE HAS QUESTIONS ABOUT THE GAME

who sings along with the radio?

KARMA SINGS BUT HORRIBLY AND SHUU IS THE TYPE TO HUM TO THE SONGS

who would enter them both into a talent show?

KARMA BUT NOW THAT I THINK OF IT, RIO WOULD FORCE THEM TO DO THAT BEFORE KARMA CAN EVEN THINK OF IT

who would accidentally set the kitchen on fire while cooking?

DO I NEED TO ANSWER THIS? 💀 (Shuu.)

who would throw the other into a pool?

KARMA WOULD THROW SHUU INTO A POOL. IDC. HE WOULD. B U T SHUU WOULD QUICKLY GRAB ONTO KARMA AND THEY BOTH LAND IN THE POOL. I DON’T MAKE THE RULES.

who shops for groceries?

THEY BOTH DO BUT KARMA IS MORE ORIENTED DJDJDJ

who kills the spiders?

PLSSSS SHUU IS S C R E E T C H I N G AT THE SIGHT OF A SPIDER. KARMA IS THERE TO KILL/GET IT OUT TO SAFETY BUT BEFORE THAT, HE CHASES SHUU AROUND THE HOUSE WITH IT

who is the morning/night person?

SHUU IS A MORNING PERSON AND KARMA A NIGHT PERSON. BUTTTT ON SOME DAYS- *EHEM* SHUU ISNT A MORNING PERSON BC THEY HAD S-

whO PROPOSES?

KARMAAAAAAAA

I thinkkk that I have more of those- as soon as I find them, I’ll post them here 😩✨

[jacksjoke]

Title: definition Pairing: Pitch/Bank Summary: Based on episode 6 promo and this upcoming scene Ao3 link

Read below

     The fire had dwindled to little more than embers what has to be an hour ago, Pitch’s classmates dispersing for their late-night activities around the same time, but he’s not moved from his spot. Bank nudges his cheek against Pitch’s shoulder in an attempt to relieve his ant bites, even in sleep, and Pitch shakes his head. He scratches the back of his neck, the area that the wind had so thoughtfully dumped the nest, with a sigh.

     “Bank,” he murmurs, then a little louder, “Oi, Bank.”

     Bank lifts his head with squinted eyes and a not so coherent, “What’s it?” that Pitch will excuse because it’s almost midnight. He glances around the camp, frowning. “Where’s everyone?”

     “Beats me,” Pitch says. “As you can see, I’ve been preoccupied.”

     “What happened?” Pitch lifts an eyebrow and Bank looks at his shoulder, then back up at him. “You let me sleep on you?” he asks. Pitch nods, unable to hide a smirk, but Bank whacks his arm. “What’d you do that for?”

     Not quite the grateful response Pitch might have expected from his junior, but he’s learned to roll with the punches. “You’re right,” he says. “Next time I’ll just put you on the ground and leave you to get bitten up by more ants.”

     “You could’ve gone to sleep hours ago 一 ” He pauses. “How long has it been?”

     “You passed out around Juno’s third scary story,” Pitch supplies, “which for her is describing the plot of any given Twilight book in what I can only call excruciating detail.”

     Bank shakes his head, standing up to make for their camp. “You should’ve woken me up.”

     “Seriously?”

     “You had no problem on the bus,” Bank points out.

     In fairness, Pitch had only pushed off Bank’s touch because he could already feel his friends’ grins on them and wanted to avoid their teasing, however inevitable. He hadn’t meant to hurt Bank’s feelings, hadn’t even thought to apologise because he hadn’t considered Bank might be sensitive enough to care.

     “That was a one-off,” Pitch says, no frills, and bumps Bank’s arm. “I think having you asleep on my shoulder for an hour and a half makes up for it, don’t you?”

     “You’re a menace,” Bank answers, walking ahead.

     Pitch can’t help laughing even as he calls after Bank, “Ouch!” He shakes his head again, smiling to himself, and follows after. He ducks into their tent where Bank has already settled down, blanket set aside to catch whatever breeze he can.

     “You’re actually going to sleep?” he asks as he lays down to his right.

     “What do my closed eyes tell you?”

     “You’re having a long blink.” Bank looks over at Pitch only to find a shit-eating grin. He smiles too, despite himself, and turns away to hide it. “Hey, I saw that!”

     “I’m sleeping.”

     “After that nap you’re ready to call it a night? You should be more energised than anyone. I’m surprised you’re not hunting down more of that special liquor and dancing pantsless on a table.”

     Bank turns over to look at him in dismay. “As if I’d do that!”

     “I’d love to see it.”

     “You’re a jerk.”

     Pitch makes a face and Bank shakes his head, though he’s still unable to prevent a smile of his own.

     “And you’re helpless to my charms,” Pitch says. “We all have our things.” Bank pokes a vindictive finger against Pitch’s cheek, leaving a streak through the baking soda there. Pitch stares at him with wide eyes. “Are you trying to make my face itch?”

     “We’ve been itchy all day; a little more won’t kill you,” Bank says, making Pitch’s grin widen slyly. By the look on Bank’s face, Pitch doesn’t have to explain his reaction. “You’re the worst.” Releasing a grieved sigh, Pitch sits up in his spot. “What’re you doing now?”

     “I’m sure there’s someone here who’ll take pity on me for the night. I’ll no longer burden you by being ‘the worst.’”

     Bank covers his face with his hands, laughing. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met!”

     “That settles it.”

     Bank opens his eyes to see Pitch pushing up out of the tent, and Bank reaches out for his arm in a split second.

     “Don’t go!” he orders. Pitch grins, making Bank frown. “Did you miss this morning, when everyone laughed at me for wanting a tent-mate?”

     “I definitely didn’t miss it,” Pitch promises. He shrugs. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I’d rather sleep here than outside Sun and Sky’s tent anyway. Who knows what I’d hear.”

     Bank laughs aloud in something like surprise and horror. “No more talking. Jesus.” He tugs Pitch’s arm and Pitch tugs back with waggled brows. “P’Pitch,” Bank starts, laughing again as he yanks harder.

     Pitch goes then, falling on his back next to Bank. “I’m not tired,” Pitch says after only a few seconds.

     “Are you serious?”

     “Maybe it was all the talk of Edward and Bella’s steamy passion but I’m wide awake.” He props onto his elbow. “We should do this again.”

     “Listen to Juno’s stories?” Bank asks, eyebrows lifted. “Cuz I didn’t even listen the first time.”

     “The volunteer trip here,” Pitch clarifies. “I’ll even commission the dinosaur onesie to make a comeback.”

     “That thing has to be burned after all the sweat I got in it.”

     “The water didn’t help?”

     “You mean the water you poured on me?” Bank asks, dry. “I can’t say it did. Half the time I’m pretty sure you’re trying to wreak havoc.”

     “That’s hurtful, and untrue. I consider myself the picture of an earnest man,” Pitch says. “The word ‘heroic’ has been tossed around.”

     “If ‘heroic’ means loud,” Bank says, grinning, and Pitch’s jaw drops.

     “Take it back right now.”

     “Good night.” He closes his eyes, but the fact that he’s still smiling widely takes away the effect.

     “Oi!” Pitch clambers atop Bank, knees on either side of his legs. “Take it back. I’m heroic!”

     “To help you sleep tonight, sure.”

     “Bank.” Bank jabs a finger into Pitch’s side, making him freeze. “Don’t.” After the afternoon’s beatdown from the kids, Bank had been fortunate enough 一 to Pitch’s even greater misfortune 一 to discover Pitch is ticklish. He knew it would come back to bite him (not unlike the ants), but not twice in one day. Bank grins, all teeth, and next thing Pitch knows he’s fallen chest to chest with Bank, breathless from laughter.

     “Next time you’ll listen when I say to sleep, right?” Bank asks.

     Pitch lifts up slightly, shaking his head. “I regret everything.”

     “That’s not what I asked.”

     Pitch meets Bank’s eyes and he’s a sight to behold, face covered in a ridiculously uneven coat of white powder. But his smile is huge, and Pitch suddenly recalls how he’d looked earlier, when they’d been this close. Before his eyes, Bank’s expression is softening into one similar to that moment, and it’s as scary to Pitch now as it had been then. But he’s the person to move closer this time around, rather than the one to put a stop to it.

     Their lips haven’t met for more than a few seconds before Bank is pushing Pitch off and disappearing from the tent. Pitch goes too, stunned from their kiss, however brief, and what appears to be Bank’s consequent fleeing of the scene.

     “Bank!” he shouts after him. “What’re you doing?”

     “What do you think you’re doing?” Bank retorts, spinning to face him.

     “Huh?”

     “Why did you kiss me?”

     “I think it’s obvious.”

     “I don’t think it is.”

     “Why are you so upset? At the lake, it seemed like 一 weren’t we 一 ” Pitch stops, frustrated that he can’t find the words.

     “You left me there,” Bank reminds him. “Why would you kiss me now and not then?”

     “I 一 Why does it even matter? It’s just a kiss; either way, it was just a kiss.” Bank shakes his head and turns again to go on walking. Pitch hurries to follow. “Can you share with the class here? Bank?”

     “You liked Juno. And Toktaeng. Whichever would give you a chance, anyone who looks at you. You flirt with them and with me and none of it means anything.”

     Pitch shakes his head, taken aback. “That’s 一 not true.”

     “You call me cute and mess with my feelings. I try to kiss you and you run, but when it’s convenient for you you’re all for it,” Bank says, eyes shining. “That’s really shitty, you know?”

     “That’s not what this is,” Pitch tries.

     Bank looks at him. “Then what is it?”

     Again, Pitch is at a loss for words. “Does it need a definition?” he manages to ask.

     “No,” Bank says, his shoulders drooping in renewed tiredness. “But if you can’t at least say you like me for real, it’s better to stop before I…”

     “Bank.”

     “I don’t want to fall for you, P’Pitch,” Bank says. “So, don’t worry about it.”

     “Bank, where are you going to sleep? I thought you didn’t want to be alone!”

     “I’ll figure it out,” is thrown over Bank’s shoulder.

     You better be careful. That you’re going to miss me too much.

     Like I’d miss you!

     “Fuck,” Pitch curses into the air.

     His phone buzzes with a question from Sky: why did Bank just message he’s gonna be sleeping in our tent? what did you do?

     Bank’s saddened eyes stare at Pitch from inside his own head and he swears again. More like what he didn’t do.