#but they bicker like this so no one knows they’ve been married for several years

[blackthorn-faerie]

The sillies!

[kitkatpancakestack]

For anonymous, who requested an outsider POV from a Target employee's perspective. This was fun. I might have to continue this one later.

XIII

There are two things Tamara Boone knows for certain. Firstly, that she’s worked at Target five years too long, and secondly, that on the Saturdays her favorite, quirky little group of three shows up, she knows she’s in for an interesting day.

It’s been happening for a couple years now. It used to just be the brunette, and then it was the brunette and his son, and then further on down the line a blond man joined the group. There’s something inherently fascinating about the dynamic, about everything that happens when they walk through the store, really. Then again, she’s currently working toward a master’s in psychology with a focus on relational issues, so she’s probably just predispositioned to see it.

She perks up from behind the customer service desk, snapping her gum as she watches the two older men bicker. The kid laughs, teetering forward on his crutches. Months they’ve had these sporadically regular Saturday trips to Target, and still, Tamara has yet to place a definitive label on their relationship. She’s met them at the check-out line several times, and not seen any evidence of wedding rings, so probably not married. She’s never seen them kiss, hug, or hold hands, and yet, they have such a distinct vibe she can’t quite put her finger on.

“What is it today?”

Her colleague and friend Shea strolls up, flicking her box braids over her shoulder. She’s worked at the store nearly as long as Tamara has, and is the only other employee she can tolerate for extended periods of time. “Not sure. Looks like he’s headed for home goods.”

“He’s always headed for home goods.”

“Not true. Remember a couple Saturdays ago? When he spent two hours looking at dish towels and bath mats?”

Shea snorts, plucking a piece of gum from the pack Tamara hides under the customer service desk. “Yeah, I was the one who had to ask him if he needed any help. And then I had to run his husband and kid out of the store! The faces they gave me. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror the rest of the day.”

“Shut up, it’s way too early to be this dramatic. Also, they’re not husbands.”

“They’re totally husbands.”

“And how do you know this?”

“You’re kidding right? Just, watch, for a second. Look at Blondie.”

Tamara finds Blondie with the kid, over by a free-floating stand with snacks and movies. He crouches down, says something to the boy, who devolves into a fit of giggles, and then the man stretches to his full height and peers around the store. His eyes are a watercolor mosaic of blues and greens, bright and piercing even the twenty feet away he’s standing from the customer service counter. And even that far away, Tamara can identify the soft and loving fondness that relaxes his face when he finds the dark-haired man still standing rigidly in the home goods section.

She’d never say it out loud, but she always volunteers to work Saturdays on the off chance they come in, because there’s something about them that wraps her insides in warmth and gives her hope for something she never wanted to look directly at before.

“Whatever,” she mutters. “Doesn’t mean they’re husbands.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.” Shea flicks a glance down to her watch. “Okay, stopwatch is going. It’s been ten minutes already. Take your bets.”

A gaggle of people stroll through the doors, then, and she shoves her friend away to go make herself useful. Tamara collects a steady stream of returns and isn’t able to come up for air until about thirty minutes later, and when she searches for her favorite group of three, Blondie and the kid are nowhere to be found, but the brunette is still standing in the home goods aisle. He’s migrated to the throw pillows.

With the desk now vacant of customers, Shea ambles back over, flashing her watch as she does. “Almost an hour!” she squawks. “Can you believe it? What is he even looking at!”

“Throw pillows.”

“Oh, God help us.”

“Where are the other two?”

“Saw them head out a few minutes ago. The inevitable Ice Cream Run, most likely.”

“Right. Okay.” She snags a penny from the register drawer and locks eyes with Shea. “Coin flip for who has to go over and ask if he needs any help?”

Horror washes over Shea’s face. “Uh, no! I had to do it last time!”

“Yes, as decided by the coin flip. It’s equitable, Shea, you know that. Now call it in the air.” Tamara flips the coin, and Shea calls heads.

It lands tails.

“Fuck,” Tamara mutters, as Shea pumps a victorious fist and trades places with her on the stool.

“Don’t worry, Tam, I’ll keep it warm for ya.”

She flips her off and straightens her godawful red polo before meandering through the aisles to the home goods section. Once upon a time, when he first started gracing their area Target with his presence, she couldn’t quite get over herself with how attractive he was. It was all that brown hair, and those eyes, and that smile, and those hands, Christ. Be that as it may, it was an exceedingly fleeting infatuation. Whatever the dynamic was with that blond guy, he was obviously taken, and Tamara had never met such a fussy shopper in her life. She’d watched him deliberate over two different ladles, once, and then walk out of the store with nothing in his hands. He was a personality she didn’t want to bring her psychology degree anywhere near.

Still, a coin flip is a coin flip, and fair is fair.

“Hello, sir, can I help you with anything today?”

His eyes glance up, and familiarity enters them. It’s kind, she thinks. Most people, even the locals, never remember her face. He remembered her name after their first meeting. “Hey,” he says. “Nice to see you again.”

“Ditto. Find everything you’re looking for?”

He nods, gaze returning to the aisles of throw pillows. He has his phone in one hand, and she sees the telltale layout of the Pinterest app on the screen. God Almighty. This man. Wonder of wonders. “I think so,” he mutters. “You got more options in the back?”

“Nope. Whatcha see is whatcha get.”

“Right. Sorry. Just thought I’d ask.”

Tamara shrugs, and then hears a loud clatter, and when she looks over, she sees Blondie standing with a sheepish look on his face, and several large bouncy balls go rolling by. The little kid has his eyes rolled up to the ceiling but can’t suppress the giggles.

The dark-haired man heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Jesus, Buck,” he mutters to himself, and then looks at her. “I’m so sorry. He may look like an adult, but he is more of a child than my actual son.”

Tamara shugs. “No worries. Kids see those giant bouncy balls and, well . . . it happens more often than you think.”

“Still.” His eyes flicker over her shoulder, and his brows furrow. “Buck, what the hell are you doing? Stop setting a bad example for Christopher.”

Tamara turns and sees the other two shuffling forward. A fine red hue spreads over the blond man’s - Buck’s - face. “It’s not my fault, Eddie. Do you see the size of those things? Besides, it was Christopher’s idea.”

The kid snorts in indignation, and the dark-haired man - Eddie - rolls his eyes. “You’re making Tamara’s job harder than it needs to be. Apologize.”

Buck bows, nearly prostrates himself at her feet. “I am so sorry. Please don’t ban us from this store. There are only so many Targets in LA.”

And that is a story Tamara definitely wants to unpack, but she doesn’t ask. “No worries. I’ll be over at the customer service desk if you need any help.”

They express their gratitude and their bickering resumes as she walks away. Shea shoots her a questioning look when she returns.

“So?” she asks, sliding off the stool. “How’d it go?”

“They broke the big bouncy ball display.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. You see any rings on those fingers yet?”

“No.” she pauses, watches as Eddie finally tucks two pillows under his arms. Buck latches onto the already full cart and steers it toward the check-out area. “They’re definitely in love though, don’t you think?”

“Obviously.”

The trio was only in the store for a few hours, a remarkably shorter time than average. Tamara is hit with another mini-rush, and by the time she glances back, they’re gone. She indulges herself a bit, allows herself to lament their absence, and is already looking forward to when they'll be back.

Which, to nobody’s surprise, ends up being later that evening, when Eddie requests a return on the throw pillows at her customer service counter, and then spends an additional two hours picking out new ones.

[rubykgrant]

(More Grimmons first-date nonsense, where restaurant staff are enthralled by the bickering romance that is Grif and Simmons, and also I like food about much as Grif, and it shows~)

Grif decided on the bacon cheddar cheese burger (which was made by frying the bacon up first, then crushing the crispy bits up, and mixing it with the burger meat, so the bacon was cooked inside of the patty), with sweet and spicy barbeque sauce. He chose the diced potatoes fried with onions, bell peppers, and garlic to go with it. Plus, a side of fried mozzarella sticks with marinara dip. Simmons ordered a grilled chicken burger that came with sauteed mushrooms and avocado (the chicken was seasons with mixed peppercorn and garlic). He also ordered a bowl of cheddar broccoli soup, and a side salad.

They both got rootbeers, and when the drinks came, Grif teased Simmons; asking if he was still pretending to be vegan, and Simmons pointing out he never specifically claimed to be any such thing, he just didn’t eat a lot of meat, except Grif remembered several times years back when Simmons used that word to describe himself and acted very superior about it, to which Simmons argued that eating a vegan diet and actually BEING vegan weren’t the same thing, and a playful argument ensued as they waited for their food… and continued once it arrived.

“Hey, you see those guys over there?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think?”

“Just buddies. Obviously,”

“Nah, I think they’re exes trying to be friends again. They’ve got that weird I-used-to-love-you-but-you-drive-me-crazy energy,”

“Hey, maybe DON’T gossip about customers while they’re still here, and also maybe DON’T make assumptions about relationships between total strangers, hmm?”

The two employees gathering up plates and cups jumped at the new voice; they had been looking across the restaurant as they worked, watching the booth with the two men who seemed to be constantly bickering. The men also kept on sharing bites of each other’s food, leaning close, wrapped up in their own little world, and tapping their feet together under the table (like an attempt at playing footsie). It was surprisingly fascinating, the way they were almost seeing who could annoy the other the most, upping the ante, and then turning it around by sharing a compliment instead of an insult. Suddenly, grumbles and flustered noises would turn into fond laughter. It all seemed like one big inside joke, and even though the onlookers didn’t understand what was happening over there, it was undeniably entertaining.

Now they had been caught by one of their coworkers, and hurried to finish with the cleaning.

“Right, right, sorry!”

“Yeah, sorry, we really weren’t trying to be nosy, we just got distracted…”

“I know, you didn’t mean any harm. You’re not in trouble. It can just kinda be a little rude to talk about random people in public,” the third person explained, not wanting to scold the others too harshly, but hoping they would understand why somebody else might get upset. “Besides, those guys over there are DEFINITELY married…”

When the food was done, somebody came by to ask if either man wanted dessert.

“Oh, ABSOLUTELY!” Grif started checking out the menu of various treats. “Simmons. Simmons, look at this. Oh my GOD,”

He held the menu out, thumb tapping to one picture, so Simmons would find it.

“S’mores Supreme…” Simmons read the name out-loud, then smiled up at the waiter. “OK, what exactly is that?”

“Oh, it’s one of our specials! Vanilla ice cream and hot fudge, with toasted marshmallows and crushed up graham crackers!” the young man, name-tag reading Hayden, explained.

“The ice cream has toasted marshmallows on it?” Simmons asked.

“Yep! They’re flambeed, right there on top of the ice cream, so they’re golden-brown and warm inside. Seriously, this is so good. Might just be my favorite,” the waiter continued.

“I think I’m in love,” Grif spoke in a dreamy voice, looking at the picture on the menu. Simmons laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Should I be jealous? I mean, I can leave if you’d rather continue the date with the food-” Simmons turned away, pretending to be offended.

“Don’t be like that, you know I have room in my heart for you AND ice cream,” Grif reached out and scooted closer in the booth, dramatically attempting to console his boyfriend.

“Well, I don’t know if I want to share you…” Simmons said, fighting the smile that wanted to spread across his face (the smile was winning).

“Aww, ice cream comes and goes, and eventually melts…” Grif was holding Simmons’ hand now.

“Are you trying to be all romantic and philosophical about dessert right now?” Simmons couldn’t hide how amused he was.

“BUT, we’ll always be together. And besides, YOU make ME melt-”

“You are so embarrassing, shut up! I’m sorry, please ignore him!” Simmons looked back at their poor waiter, who had to witness this lovey-dovey act from his boyfriend… but he was also undeniably proud of this too (having somebody who fussed over him, who said such over-the-top mushy nonsense, but also meant it with absolutely no trace of irony. Attention and compliments from somebody he loved? Simmons couldn’t get enough, despite his protests of embarrassment). “Yes, we’d like a S’mores Supreme, please!”

“OK, so- one to share? We can do two scoops, three, four, or five…” Hayden began writing it down.

“Better go with five,” Simmons tried to say with an even tone (difficult, because Grif was giggling and grinning as he cuddled against Simmons’ shoulder, enjoying how much he had made his boyfriend blush).

“Alright, five it is. Also, we try to make sure the marshmallows are just right… but some of them can get a little bit burned,” Hayden warned.

“That’s fine, honestly,” Simmons said.

“Yeah, burned is one of my favorite flavors!” Grif added.

As Hayden walked away to hand-off their order, he heard them begin a whole new discussion about how “Burned is NOT a flavor!”, “If you can taste it, then it’s a flavor! That’s exactly what flavor is!”, followed by more laughter.

“Hey, the guys at booth 17 would like a S’mores Supreme!” Hayden told two of the desert chefs who handled ice cream in the kitchen. “And I think they just got engaged or something. Maybe celebrating their anniversary. Either way, they’ve been love-birds for a long time…”

[jae-canikeepyou]

| kismet | j.jh | part one

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

word count: 10k+ welps

summary: his parents sends him for a month long vacation to the country side to meet his other half, which so happens to be you. and alternatively, your beloveds asks of you to be in your best behaviour while he’s around. disliking how things turn out, you both come up with a pact with each other before your two families gathers together for christmas eve dinner.

genre: arranged marriage + bad 1st impressions

a/n: happy new year ✨ and you know what that means? *wink wink* new layout for my oneshots hihi! ok you guys this took soooooo long to write ;-; i wasn’t satisfied with the first draft so i had to reboot everything! and i mean everything!! :3 so i had this specific genre in mind for a long time and i’m glad that someone requested at the same time while i was in the progress of writing it~ i should’ve posted this on christmas day but i was spending time with my family :D hope you understand hihihi anyway i’ll stop this here so you can enjoy reading! ~j

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| part two | part three (final) |

jaehyun never reacted so quickly in his entire life, simultaneously spitting out the drink he consumed and eyes growing at the news his parents suddenly brought up. his neck ache at sudden twist. “what did you say?” he wiped the drips of coffee at the corners of his lips. his breathing intensified the more the silence passed.

mr. and mrs. jeong playfully sighed & exchanged looks as their son shouldn’t be this surprised regarding the topic. they have discussed about this when he turned eighteen. now twenty-three, he shouldn’t be so surprised or over-reactive about it either. 

“you heard your father,” mrs. jeong chewed her meal elegantly, yet giggles were still heard through closed lips. “you’re meeting her next week.”

he squinted with plenty of doubts filling his head, he was sure that there was still a year left. and to him that also meant he has exactly a year to convince his parents to call off the marriage he never asked for, let alone planned it. he still has a lot- correction, have yet to achieve in his mid-twenties and having a wife now would be slightly cutting his privacy short. 

in other words, the path to leisure he wished for after years of academics would divert to spending a life planned out for him. he had a diary and planner, and 

they were organised and well-thought out. but he had enough of his parents writing out his future for him, why couldn’t he write his own love story?

jaehyun was on his second last year of veterinary medicine, having some of the weight and pressure of academics lifted off his shoulders. of course he knew he still has to study, he just felt a little relaxed knowing that he would soon practice his dream career.

never had he expected that time flew and was going to meet his fiancé soon. 

his phone blinked with along with a message from his friends— mark and johnny. he briefly looked at the wallpaper of his long-time girlfriend of four years; she was the one who was on his mind. “nononono, i can’t get married now.” jaehyun’s panicking voice echoed the dining area, shoving the phone into his pockets.

mr. jeong raised a brow, placing his cup of coffee on the glass table. “relax, you’re not putting a ring on her finger yet.”

“‘yet’?!” the dimples on his face deepened as his cheeks bubbled. “mom, dad, i haven’t even met her!”

“hm? that’s why you’re spending the whole month at the countryside!” mrs. jeong exclaimed excitingly, and to jaehyun it seemed she was enjoying herself as if she were the one going there too.

“a month?! what am i going to do over there?!” 

“isn’t this great? we finally get to see you outdoors instead of a laptop and report papers! you need a break honey.” his mother clasped palms.

“ugh i can manage my time—”

“once you start working i’m pretty sure you won’t have the time to, jaehyun.”

since the love topic was brought up, his parents started to dig out their memories during their dating years. jaehyun groaned and massaged his temples, feeling uncomfortable with all the love stories he already heard or been told about. “did you forget that i have a girlfriend?” mumbling, he let out a deep, long sigh hoping they would hear him. and that failed miserably. his parents were in their own world. 

he shook his leg underneath the table and grew impatient with the duration of their conversation. “please, i’m begging you. i’ll get married in my own time and pace. sue and i are pretty much going to settle once we graduate-”

a certain ringtone perked his ears and his hands quickly pat his pockets to search his phone. he let out a sigh of relief, that his girlfriend psychologically read his mind and knew how much he wanted to get out of the dinner table, not to mention his parents’ overly attachment to one another. 

“sue you called! i was wondering if you want to hang out for a while.” his voice was high in spirits. but word has it when it reached its high, it would plummet to the ground shortly after. “hey, what’s wrong?” 

on the other line, just a call away from his girlfriend, was her held-in sob and whimper. “where are you right now? i’m coming to get you.”

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jaehyun’s limbs shook in anger and slammed his fists onto the stirring wheel so hard that this time he promised himself he would move on. last week, she didn’t just break up with him— that was a call for farewell, something kept well hidden from him and all this time he didn’t know she felt the way she did for the years they’ve spent together. 

for a minute he wished this was all a dream, that conscious world would wake his slumber mind. it wasn’t. the reality pretty much awoke him and kept him up all night. he blinked several times, her words still numbing his hearing, wishing it was a lie... but he heard her loud and clear that night. 

“...you’ll always have a place in my heart.. but i’m really sorry..”

he grew speechless though his heart had millions of questions. the windows of his lips sealed closed no matter how much he wanted them to be answered. opposite from where he was at, he stared at the porch of her house, waiting for a silhouette to appear before him. instead a luxurious car pulled over and an unfamiliar man took his coat off to wrap around sue. that action didn’t hurt jaehyun, but it was sue’s smile of comfort that triggered his pain more. seemed like she knew this man given that she let him into her house, like nothing heartbreaking happened before this. 

the door closed and jaehyun’s teary eyes never left her residence until loud slams of swinging car doors opened on both sides of the passenger’s seats. “tsk.” he hissed and quickly rubbed the tears meaning to fall. him being seen crying would really make him a target for his friends, for not moving on. couldn’t risk being the attention more than he already was.

“goodness mark it’s not like we’re on vacation that you have to pack almost everything,” johnny threw one of mark’s duffle bags at the boy, earning a so-what kind of look from him. “we’ll only bring jae to the y/l/n’s then leave afterwards—”

screw this, jaehyun thought. by now he shouldn’t look too swollen to his friends. but screw mark for renting and living across from his ex’s house. 

“save your explanation john.” jaehyun growled and started the engine, fastening his while seatbelt the two continued their bickers. more of it was mark’s shallowness that pissed johnny.

“yeah, save your explanation john- ow!” mark gave the tall lad a death-gazing glare at the pain that stayed on his skin.

johnny leaned forwards, tapping the dimpled boy on the shoulder. “dude, you changed your mind?”

jaehyun scoffed, resting his left arm onto the window’s edge as he drove. “mom said i should be accompanied. i didn’t want you both to come but she’s so insisting it’s getting into my nerves.” 

“actually mrs. jeong said you might need us after your sudden breakup,” mark pressed the button. the window rolled up and down whereas him and johnny exchanged looks to try to liven up the mood in the car. “what are friends for, hm?”

“o-oh yeah. you’ll need us.. as in.. ‘sue’pport.” he nodded with a fake sob. soon mark bursted out in giggles and joined the wagon. 

“‘cause you lost your ‘sue’weetheart.” “she’s making you ‘sue’per emotional.” “we were ‘sue’prised she dumped you.” “but as your brothers, we ‘sue’wear we’ll be here—”

“ugh! i don’t know why mom suggested you to come but your side comments really aren’t helping at all—” jaehyun rolled his eyes regretting instantly at the pain afterwards.

his friends found him hilarious. they were laughing so hard that jaehyun couldn’t continue or interrupt their exploding voices. “since when did you need help, mr. leave-me-alone?” johnny took a huge leap from his seat to be beside the offended boy. “for all i know you’re the type who wants everything perfect, in control and planned.”

“nah dude, right now..” mark zipped his bag. “he needs help with love issues.”

“this has nothing to do with my love! and for the record, about the y/f/n’s? it’s arranged!” he lowered his cap and slid back slightly against the seat while the car was on idle. “do i need to spell it out for you?”

“that can change dude,” johnny slurped on his giant soda takeaway. jaehyun battered his eyes but was careful enough to not leave his sight off of the road. “who knows this fiancé of yours could meet your expectations. maybe more than sue could ever do.”

jaehyun’s mind clouded and still had the effects from the breakup. still so fresh. he didn’t want to believe it in fact happened; that it was all true. he was sure sue was the one for him. hearing his pals say it word per word only had it finally sunk in— she dumped him.

it terrified him in ways he couldn’t imagine, haunted him countless of nights because he failed her. he even bragged to his parents that he would marry her and slip a ring on her finger. thinking about it, how stupid was he to hold onto that hope?

he looked like an idiot, felt like one and his friends probably viewed the same. they said his fiancé could outstand sue? she was the perfect package! what more could he get?

he had her.

honks of the vehicles behind led jaehyun’s eyes trailing to the stoplight that emitted green. he pulled over and johnny knew he had to take his place. 

“here, let me drive. you’re not fit for driving. now, just be comfy back there, okay?”

—

hours later violent jolts of the car hit jaehyun’s cheek, regaining consciousness from his slumber just to witness the beautiful sunrise peeking from the horizon. he sat up, his posture trying to straighten to denumb nerves that held long during his sleep.

his playlist blasted the speakers. johnny had his legs on the dashboard and hummed with the music. mark was still sleeping peacefully like he hadn’t had a care in the world other than his precious bag of unfinished chips in his hands. 

he groaned at the discomfort of pulled muscles and the sudden break to the countryside. if johnny needed an hour intervals for the drive he could’ve said so, right? but now they were at the open road, greenery and fields merging together in one land. 

“what time is it? where are we and are we there yet? i’ll drive if what you do delays the journey.” jaehyun gestured him to move aside. “johnny, stop eating.” it was quarter to two.

“wha-? i’m hungry. hey, you’re the one who didn’t want to come and yet you’re rushing to get to the y/l/n’s?” johnny unwrapped his second burrito. “besides, we’re only five minutes away—”

“tsk ‘cause i need to piss real bad.” jaehyun was fidgety and panned the view before setting eyes on his friend. 

johnny felt a churn in his stomach as his cheeks bubbled. “oh gross! i’m eating dude! if you’re gonna piss then do it outside?!”

jaehyun shoved the burrito into johnny’s mouth to not speak anymore. “rather hold it in than for you to puke in my car!” he held his strength while johnny fought his way to breathe properly. “i won’t piss outside and there are cattles who feed on fields!”

“bruh stop lecturing me with your vet knowledge- ah!” johnny held his forehead from the sudden finger flicking.

“dude, it’s called common sense. now move aside!” he shooed the tall boy off the driver’s seat. jaehyun stepped on the gas, heading towards a small town entrance.

they finally reached a couple of stores & restaurants, surveying and asking its townsmen using your family name to locate your residence. maybe they would know which apartment or house you resided in. except that was the twist of their understanding. 

jaehyun and his boys were shocked to know how your family name plastered in posters and brand products displayed at open stores, but were more shocked to see the gazes from the people. 

a little over an hour, they managed to get hold of more information as they were told your house was ten minutes away from the town. jaehyun walked along the pavement to grab something to drink, only to be poked by a young man who was around the same age as they were.  

“hi.” he greeted the unfamiliar man. “i take it you’re looking for the y/l/n’s?”

he took a squint as he observed jaehyun from head to toe, circling around him. “uh-huh, you look like m’lady’s husband-to-be in the pictures.”

“e-excuse me?” jaehyun cleared his throat, seemingly unwilling to have this conversation going.

mark held his laugh per usual, it would take time to get used to jaehyun stumbling his words. 

because the engaged man really wasn’t ready at all. 

“yeap he’s the guy.” johnny popped the ‘p’ with a lollipop in his mouth. jaehyun rolled his eyes, taking the candy stick and tossing it away. he didn’t care about johnny’s scoffs.

the new young lad wore his motorcycle helmet. “sweet.” he prolonged the word. and that was when both mark and johnny lost it. they recalled the pun they entertain themselves with prior to arriving here.

“oh, i work with the town’s famous family,” he showed his i.d. wrapped around his neck. “you can follow me since i’m heading there too.” the three quickly twitched at his quick paced movement. “i’m kunhang by the way, but i’d rather be called hendery. it’s my professional name, it just sounds cooler.”

jaehyun furrowed his brows at the praise. “okay hendery, uhm famous? they’re big time?” he pointed at the posters holding your family name. “how so?”

hendery swung his face shield downwards. “you’ll see.”

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gallops of horses were drumming the entire farm. dust and dirt swirled with the wind in the air and it took a while for the boys to adjust their sights at the distance. hendery dropped a couple of spare boots for them to wear. jaehyun was in awe. horses were majestic animals and though he got to study them, he never seen such a number of them on the fields.

“oh goodness me our guest is here!”

they turned around to voice of a jolly lady, an apron on and folded cuffs from her clothing. “hello there! welcome! you must be jaehyun! my soon to be son-in-law!” she shook his hands and later pulled him for a hug. “oh you look just like your mother!”

“hi mrs. y/l/n. y-yeah, i get that a lot these days,” jaehyun scratched his head. “thanks for having us.” 

her eyes trailed at mark and johnny, and they too, were pulled in for a hug. “i see jaehyun brought along his handsome friends with him! do enjoy your stay here with us!” she caught a glimpse of a figure approaching the crowd. “c’mere baby and meet the boys!”

jaehyun looked over his shoulder, lips parting and exhaled a short breath. she seemed young, she has a pretty face but obviously still in high school. what the? oh g- i’m marrying you?

“pfft no ew. i’m not getting married to you. i’m only 17.” she let out a chuckle, almost sarcastic enough for jaehyun to explode.

crap i said it unconsciously.

your mother lightly slapped her arm. “marg, where’s your sister?” she asked. “i told her to specifically come at the barn 1600.”

“she took jet for a ride. ‘detour’ she said, but i guess she’s on her way here.” she replied and mark choked on his water bottle. marg rolled her eyes. “green minded ass-”

“language marg!” hendery flicked her forehead, the latter held the pain. “the rudeness. sorry, kiddo here is the family’s baby. you’ll see the eldest daughter soon- oh! right on time m’lady!” he waved his hands up high.

jaehyun didn’t know what pissed him off more; one was at himself for being starstruck and in awe at you after his breakup, and two? 

the beautiful black horse you were riding on didn’t seem to be halting. it was trotting at first. you were on its saddle. he squinted his eyes, were you smirking? unbelievable. he thought you were doing this on purpose. no, you were really going to run him over. 

he noticed a change in speed, trotting then galloping on dirt. the sounds of it matched with the beatings of his rising heart. jaehyun took a step back, then it became more than one, until he was worried that he would end up being chased. there were couple of gasps and reminders of voices. he fell on his bum with palms hitting the ground as he breathed heavily, eyes still on you.

the horse listened to your rein, it let out a loud neigh with its front legs heavenwards. your laugh merged with it. “whoa- hey, easy jet, easy.” you cooed the animal, soon removing your helmet and hair flowed like those in shampoo commercials. “i think he got the message.”

jaehyun sat there dumbfounded, his brows drew together. what message? you were centimetres from killing him- wait. he saw you turn cold and your smile disappearing.

bingo! he got it. he knew the reason why you did this. 

you were against the arranged marriage too.

johnny leaned into mark’s ear, who had his hands cupping his lower face. “bro, jet’s a horse so stop giggling and clean your mind.” 

“dude i’m not laughing at that. just look at jae. i’ve never seen him so helpless.” he cackled a laugh. 

once your feet were on the ground, he finally got a better look on you. you were wearing a light wooled grey sweater with denim blue jeans. your hair now on one side and boots stained with dried mud. you took off your gloves to put your hand out for a handshake, one rested around your helmet. “hi, i’m y/n.” you greeted with a smile, ensuring it was fake enough for jaehyun to notice. 

“quite of an entrance.” jaehyun dusted his jeans and groaned at the exerted strength as he stood. “jeong jaehyun. veterinary medicine student..” he was about to grab your hand until you shoved yours into the pockets of your jeans. 

“y/n!” your mom exclaimed with warning. “your manners-” she clamped her lips when you put up a hand, eyes darting at her later at him.

“alright, okay. look mr. i didn’t ask for your field of study and i don’t need to know or do anything with you.”

jaehyun crossed his arms, a fake smile plastered on his face. what an attitude. “apparently you will? because i’m here for the next thirty days.”

“is that so?” you hummed and jaehyun didn’t like how you singsonged.

he knew something was coming and sometimes he thought it was best to keep quiet instead of letting his annoyance towards you spark up. “good, that means you’re helping me out with everything i do here.” he heard you say. “and do things i tell you to.”

“what?” his eyebrows snapped, and for you it was quite entertaining to see this reaction from him. following the trail of your footsteps, jaehyun stomped on wet soil as he stood before you. “hey you can’t just order me around like i’m your staff!”

“of course i can, you’re in my property-” you gestured the land.

“no, it belongs to your parents.” the tone of his voice irked you. he was grinning too.

“i can do whatever i want and choose whenever to help. i’ll only listen orders from mr. and mrs. y/l/n if they want me to do work..” he trailed off, your mother waving at him with admiration— typical as she saw him like an long lost son. “..but i guess not. my mom did say i needed a break from studying too much and she’s totally right. i must be pardoned from labour.”

it was your turn to cross arms and give him a lop-sided smile. the audacity of this man. you felt like ripping all your hair out. “you think staying here would prevent you from doing labour, your highness? sitting on your throne all dignified and at peace? well guess what, just because you’re a guest that doesn’t mean you get to be treated differently-”

you heard him bubble out a forced snicker. what was it this time? “of course it’s different! i am the guy you’re betrothed to-”

“i won’t allow it.” your jaw tightened with lips in a hard line. “a person like you is not worth my time and definitely not someone i’d want to marry.”

he pursed his lips. “wow do people ever tell you how bad of a host you are? you just don’t go shoving assumptions into people’s faces for your own entertainment. we’re humans.”

“i’m only rude to you. and yeah, people are humans. but you’re the devil’s incarnate.” you pulled jet’s reins and led him to the stables in which jaehyun observed how you gave that same smirk from earlier. “see if you’ll enjoy your stay here, hubby.” 

jaehyun clenched his fists and was sure little crescent moons already indented his palms. he only wanted sue to call him that. yet that was useless, they broke up. your face remained in his head and anger filled him up, now boiling so much that he felt a little lightheaded arguing with someone like you. 

he wanted to yell but johnny and mark sandwiched him between them with hendery walking in front. “tsk it’s only the first day and i want to go home.” he scrunched his nose. 

hendery had his palms behind his head, lips jutting to hold his grin. “m’lady—” he corrected himself. “y/n’s not usually like that. it’s a first seeing her so cranky and hotheaded.”

“really? how is she usually like?” mark asked with curiosity. “she seems cool because she smiled at johnny and me before the tables.. y’know, turned.” he shrugged with implications towards jaehyun.

“not cranky and not hotheaded.” hendery opened the door to your house, showing them to the large living area. “a lil’ different today but i tell you, our y/n is a professional equestrian. she’s passionate with what she does and—”

“a horse rider?! passionate?!” jaehyun hissed as he took off his shoes and brown coat, kicking it slightly to the side and hung it on the wall respectively. “she almost killed me!”

johnny hit the back of jaehyun’s head and clicked his tongue. “snap out of it jae, you’re overreacting. we’re at your future in-law’s residence and i think it’s a bad idea to badmouth their daughter.” 

only a low groan escaped out of jaehyun as he refused to listen. “look, first impressions don’t always hit off a good start. but thinking how you both don’t have a say to this arranged marriage, your feelings towards each other are totally understandable.”

jaehyun pressed the bridge of his nose as he took in his friend’s words. if what johnny said was true, was it right for him to begin holding grudge on you on the first day? you barely knew each other. clearly he knew you hated him, yet if his parents were here and saw the whole thing, they’d ask: why risk the chance of not trying? and again, he remembered he was told, people can change. 

—

throughout dinner, he got to know what your family business was and why it was well-known. he didn’t ask questions, they were just told to him like they were comfortable with it. they weren’t bragging either. perhaps it was due to the fact jaehyun would soon be part of this family that they told him the entire story. 

you didn’t show up during the hour and honestly it got jaehyun feeling so much relief since he wouldn’t have to deal with another useless argument. he disliked wasting time and preferred to do this schedule accordingly, so remembering it only made him rage inside. he was glad he wouldn’t have to deal with you tonight. 

except that relief was shortlived. you had to appear right when he thought of you.

great.

he tried to fix himself in his seat on the sofa by the fireplace, averting his gaze upon you while your mother continuously slapped you light on the arms. you probably finished your bath, given that you still have a towel wrapped around your head and a.. robe.

“y/n! have some courtesy! we have guests!” your mother warned as she gestured in front to cover you, apologising to the new boys. hendery immediately stepped in as well, his eyes shutting to a close and pushing you back to the bottom of the staircase. 

“but mom! i’m hungry and there might not have any cookies left if you keep giving it to them-” you were cut off with hendery’s pats.

he brushed his hair. sighing, he had to shoo you away because you were clearly attracting eyes, definitely not the decent kind. “i have a jar prepared for you m’lady so please.. get dressed!”

you quickly ran up as you were told, mumbling and complaining. jaehyun and his friends were definitely at a loss for words. because not only were you careless, you were oblivious too. 

mark scrunched his nose to start a conversation with jaehyun. “looks like she called you ‘hubby’ too quickly.” he closed his lips to contain his laugh. 

“pfft jae your ears really are honest huh?” johnny pointed at them as he held his chest, fistbumping mark for another win. 

he wasn’t going to tell them that he in fact did find you pretty, and the thing was, he shouldn’t be giving a reaction too soon. “it’s the spicy chocolate cookie!” jaehyun defended.

“huh, i didn’t bake any cookie with those flavour-” hendery pondered, but he stopped since he spotted jaehyun begging to help him here.

“you know that we know if you’re lying right?” the two squinted eyes, putting more pressure to the boy to admit what he felt when he saw you earlier. “bet ya felt something.”

afraid that your family could hear them, jaehyun grabbed their shoulders to huddle them in close. he cleared his throat to catch their attention, yet his friends continued their giggles. “i swear if you both embarrass me in front of the y/f/n’s, consider the days with your precious.. phones.”

“ah c’mon dude. don’t do that. we bought our i12’s together-” mark whined.

“then at least help me out here guys. i have a reputation to hold-” 

“oh for being her hubby?” johnny gave a playful grin and soon was replaced with a nervous smile. “okay i’ll zip it.”

he heard your mother facetiming his mom, voices loud enough for him to know that there would be a huge gathering at christmas eve dinner. great, another one i have to deal with.

jaehyun put down his beanie and crossed his arms to snooze for a bit. he had too much going on in his head the whole day that maybe sleeping it off would let him calm down from all feelings he felt tonight. on the sofa, the weight beside him lowered, the scent of freshly baked cookies along with lavender perfume got him peeking under his beanie. 

it was you, who looked like a squirrel happily munching away with your jar of cookies whilst eyes glued to the television.

he smiled a little to himself. so you can have this cute side-

fragments of sue’s face appeared in his mind. right. he was supposed to be heartbroken. he still was. a week into the breakup had remains to his heart. bothered with sue’s ultimatum and your annoying munches, he grabbed your wrists and out at the veranda.

it pissed him because it seemed like he was the only one who cared about both of your futures or actually would do something to change your families’ minds, where as you were carefree with your cookies. “hey!” you held the jar tight in your arms as you quickly slid your feet into your slippers. “rude! i’m eating!”

the rest of the people in the dining and kitchen area grew voices of woohoo’s, jaehyun’s pupils flared at their cheers. “just come with me for a second!” he hissed, turning the knob and closing the door.

“seriously jaehyun you can’t just ruin my happy time! what do you want-”

he looked in between the curtains from the outside, where he could faintly hear his friends talking the embarrassing things about him— especially how he felt for this arrange marriage. “aren’t you pressured or angry at the situation our parents have put us into?” he leaned against a column. “even my friends are joining the wagon.”

you cackled whilst scrolling your phone. “here i thought you only cared about animals, dr. jeong.” hearing how jaehyun scoffed at your comment, you shoved your device in your pockets. “and yes of course i’m mad! what they decided is so against my will.”

jaehyun stared at you and surprised that he actually felt exactly the same. “really? then let’s make a pact. sounds good?” he offered with arms folded while you still were occupied with your phone. “well?”

“why would i listen to you? as far as i know, we already clashed and hate each other.” you rolled your eyes. “what makes you think i’ll agree?”

he sighed. “y/n, i know you don’t want this, i don’t too. at least there’s something we have in common. i’m just thinking that we have to show them we’re not meant to be together. we both have lives we want to live without the other.”

there was a change in his voice. you could tell he was serious and trying to suggest something he’d want you to agree on. “fine, what’s the pact?” you gave an uninterested tone. probably a bad idea, you thought.

“like you said, ‘clash and hate each other’. we have exactly twenty four days to convince them that you, me, us?” he pointed at his chest then yours. “is impossible. twenty four days, it’s until the night of christmas eve.”

actually that’s not bad at all. “hm, that’s easy since i can’t stand you.” you said, now standing up to face him. “even better if we can do this in less than 24.”

“cool, we have to make our fights as natural as possible. no signals or heads-up. full-on make me angry and i’ll do the same. the more we argue the more they’ll believe there’ll never be an ‘us’.” his voice a bit lively than before. “i want my buds to be fooled into this too. just be realistic and- nghf!”

you shoved a huge cookie into his mouth. “tsk, you’re noisy. i get you so shut up. i agreed with the pact, but i have conditions, okay?”

jaehyun nodded as he chewed angrily with his eyes closed, though the cookies’ taste might’ve simmered down his temper towards you. “ha, then i have conditions too-”

“see you in the morning.” he heard you say as the door slammed with the attached bell ringing his ears. 

now that was one of his conditions; no interrupting while he talks. he sighed seeing you head up the stairs. he sighed. “ugh, i can never marry a girl like her.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

stretching as high as you can, the muscles loosened in every part of your body from riding yesterday. the sun shone its brightest despite the cold weather. you remembered the pact and you knew you would not let a day pass without bothering him. somehow his existence annoyed you to the bone, not even words were enough to explain how you felt. 

at the farthest point your peripheral could reach, you spotted jaehyun peacefully— and actually enjoying— the hammock whilst faintly you heard mark and johnny debating which pronunciation was the correct one. fixing your boots as you walked towards them, the two scurried off to the side, noticing the stomps of your feet getting closer. 

“get up.” you wriggled the hammock, causing it to be lop-sided. 

jaehyun managed to balance himself from the swings. “what the-” his voice hitched. “you’re ruining my relax time!”

you pretended to ponder as you looked up to the sky. “hm, sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it?” referring to his sudden action towards you the night prior.

“seriously y/n what do you want? i’m in no mood to do work today and i clearly told you last night-” jaehyun fixed his eyes onto your finger that silenced his lips.

jaehyun raised a brow and rolled his eyes. what was your deal? he thought. “condition number one.” you started, bringing your voice down. “starting today you’ll do the work for me and with me. considering you’re taking veterinary science, i’m guessing you know your ways through equine husbandry. so in the coming days you can check the horses’ health while i practice my rounds.”

ah, so that’s what this was about. “uh-huh, but my condition number one is you shouldn’t make me do labour unless you really need it.” jaehyun got off the hammock, chugging his glass of water like it’s one-shot. “it’s the first light, y/n. my service starts in the afternoon.”

“i see. you’re not a morning person.” you checked your nails.

“i so am! but it’s my month long vacation. let me enjoy this before i experience exploitation from you.” he forced a smile that made you want to push him off the veranda.

you walked down the steps and straight to the barn opposite from your house. “it’s either exploitation today or exploitation for the whole month.” you singsonged while you twirled in your stance. hearing him growl meant your tactic worked. “i’ll let you experience the beauty of country side, city boy.”

jaehyun’s brows narrowed as he followed you anyway, later looking back at his friends who were stifling a laugh. “did you just compare me to feces first thing in the morning?”

“did you just boggle up my brain with scientific terms?” you hid a giggle when you heard his friends finally bursting out and losing it. because they too, experienced jaehyun’s sudden blabber of uncommon usage of words, especially conversational-wise. “i made a pun but it seems like you acknowledge the nickname.”

“i did not!” jaehyun pressed his temples. “i may have misheard you but i didn’t acknowledge it! you’re too assuming!”

“mhm sure.. but you are stepping on one though.” you whistled and gestured mark and johnny to the stables.

jaehyun grumbled as he checked the soles of his shoes. indeed he stepped on it and licked his lips in annoyance that it’d be hard to clean it off. the door opened and hendery’s morning face only turned sour at the unsightly view. he tossed another pair of spare boots for him to wear before they both headed to where you all were. 

hendery introduced the things they do here; feed the horses, fix their saddles  repair them if damaged. they were minor things since your family did hire people to do them. and since you and him were professionals in equine sports, he mentioned you both spend all days practicing. 

good, if it was you who toured him around the area, he wouldn’t think lasting a day with your intentions of ruining his mood. though it was part of the pact, it seemed like you enjoyed this a lot more than he expected. hendery brought him to places your family owned, land properties that expanded until the mountains. it’s no wonder you were free to roam around and unafraid of getting lost. 

you made him do a lot. and he was glad he was able to handle, thank heavens. however he didn’t feel much of a challenge from any of them, where you claimed they were ones he couldn’t do. jaehyun lost track of time, the sky was his only companion to tell the hours and probably lost count of the tasks too. all he could remember was the endless bickering, yells and frequent eye rolls. 

in all those, he still let you off the hook— first day of work and all, he has to be patient. and he wasn’t bothered with what you tasked him to do, until his friends stood behind you as you showed them the rest of the horses. 

after you told him to move the bundles of hay he thought was the last, you were currently trying to make mark pet the horses as they were bobbing their heads towards the young man while johnny recorded his reaction. 

“isn’t she all well now.” jaehyun rolled his eyes as he helped hendery lift the infinite bundles. “my friends get the leisure and i have to work?”

hendery laughed as he unbuttoned his collar. “she was told by her mom that you’ll be in her care since you both will get married eventually. plus mrs. y/f/n said it’s a way to get to know y/n too.” he explained, seeing you walk towards them with a hay cart, hands signalling your childhood friend to get some bundles from you. the final bundles were finally fed to the horses, and you skipped your feet to fetch jaehyun.

jaehyun knew you had intentions to make fun of him because the way you walked really pissed him off. so he decided to have his fun too. ”are you that weak you’re unable to carry a small patch? guess my hourly pay needs an increase.” he low-key flexed his muscles. truthfully speaking it was a sight to look at, too bad his attitude didn’t match it.

you rested on one leg while you look at him. he was testing the waters with you, smile slowly resurfacing as you gave even the slightest reaction towards him. oh it’s on. he annoyed you yesterday and would be a lot more in the next coming days. jaehyun leaned forwards that he was towering over you. his body made you feel small but that didn’t stop you from getting back at him.

“the only thing increasing for you is workload.” you hummed, putting back the cart into its place.

he glared at you as if you were dead meat. you ignored him. “i’ve had enough for today. muscles are sore.” hands in his pockets, jaehyun kicked the remains of hay off his shoes before he was stopped by you. “ugh you’re so annoying.” he clicked his tongue. 

“nope, you’re not done until i am. we have to find materials for christmas wreaths at my grandpa’s up north.” you pointed at the mountains as you took hendery’s hands and soon mounted on jet with him.

“oh and i’m supposed to walk there while you’re so relaxed miss bossy?” jaehyun shook his head in disbelief looking at the distance.

“uh yes?” you laughed to yourself. “i don’t think you’ve ever ridden a horse before, but if ever you did, it’s probably at a carnival.”

sudden outbursts of emotions evident on his face now. “was i born under a rock? of course i’ve ridden!” he took the reins given to him by hendery. “and it’s not a carousel!”

for a while he had a certain confidence, his soles stepping on the stirrup and dimples deepening with the strength he gave to put his right leg over. but once that was done and high up off the ground, his heart beat an army per second. cash, hendery’s horse gave loud neigh. jaehyun had done this before as a child and definitely felt like one now. he should be able to handle a 30-minute journey.

jaehyun heard you giggling, perhaps he knew how hideous he looked. despite hendery seated behind you, you led the way for the most part of the ride. you were surprised to see jaehyun have gotten the hang of it. it pissed you a lot because he was vlogging with his phone— sputtering out words to keep the diss battle going. johnny and mark hopped on the available bikes, cycling on your sides, and their laughter rather calmed you than annoy you. 

it pissed you a lot more because you’ve practically ran out of ideas to tell him in return. keeping quiet wasn’t your forte, you were a young woman with plenty of things to say, even more so to jaehyun. going through the woods, you signalled hendery to halt the horse for you and the rest of the boys followed you to gather the materials needed. 

“this shouldn’t be too long to take.” jaehyun looked at the trees towering meters above him, then straight to you who was shaking head in disbelief. “we’re just taking the materials at your grandfather’s and head back, right?”

“did i mention my granddad?” you balanced yourself on large wood log. the tone of your voice started to warm up with bickers you weren’t able to tell him. 

“you did!” jaehyun anticipated this and somehow he didn’t. “now lead the way to his place and we can get the hell out of here.” his eyes grew squints of disgust at his surroundings, as if he hadn’t been into the forest before. his friends went on ahead with hendery around the woods to look for what’s needed.

“nah, we’re picking acorns, pine cones, berries and other leaves by hand. his cottage is just around here but that doesn’t mean the materials are from him. let’s go, whiney.” 

“oh my g-” jaehyun pulled you on the arm and off you went towards him. “y/n i’ve had enough for today and i’m so tired of taking your orders- i’m physically tired of doing things your way and i can’t think straight-”

“pecans?” you said as his eyes crossed to see your palms full of the shelled nuts. “you’re hungry, aren’t you? that’s why you’re so cranky and agitate-y.” placing one but onto a flat rock, you smashed it strong enough for it to crack yet not totally destroying the inside. you popped one into your mouth and gave the most taunting grin jaehyun has seen from you all day. 

he was about to grab the rest of the nuts until you swung your arm that he wasn’t able to reach them. “y/n! give me some!” he yelled and the rest of your friends look at you both after hearing you laugh in the most evil manner.

“never!” you scurried off deeper into the woods. jaehyun rolled his eyes not at how fast you were, but due to how slow he actually was because of the amount of disgust he had.

he knew this would take all day and he didn’t know how long his patience can take for another three weeks with you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

jaehyun couldn’t describe in words with what he experienced since arriving. if he had to compare with school, it was similar to studying and cramming for hours non-stop. it gotten him mentally exhausted, physically too. but the only difference between being cooping up in his room and doing work outdoors was the continuous nagging from you. 

it was far from quiet. he could handle his mom’s high pitched yells. but you? anything that came from you or done by you made him want to plaster a duck tape on your lips. you were as annoying as a five year old child who looked for someone vulnerable to bully. unfortunately he became your prey because he was in your lands. and though there were times he was able to banter back, he always felt you still had the upper hand.

it was all sunny and good days out in the countryside and jaehyun found that fact the only bright side. he enjoyed it every single morning. yet sometimes good sunny mornings meets its bad, that is, when grey clouds destroyed the beauty of the sky. in this case, it was you. you were far from his dream girl— sue. she was elegant, poised and had a heart of gold. you were the complete opposite who’d rather be rogue and do things your way. other than completing ten christmas wreaths and feeding the horses or more farm work, he couldn’t remember what he did for the past eight days because all that entered his mind was the dictator you. 

but today he felt different, maybe things wouldn’t be as hard than last week. he felt good. he sat at the long dining table with all morning faces exposed. it was currently 7 a.m and your mom have already prepared breakfast. and per usual, you were the only one they waited for before they start the first meal. 

“marg, is your sister still asleep?” your mother put down a large casserole to warm up everyone’s stomach in winter. 

marg only shrugged because for one, she didn’t care, and two, she stated that it wouldn’t be her doing this since jaehyun was marrying you. “oh jaehyun. please do head upstairs to her room and awake y/n up.”

“and why do i have to do this?” jaehyun mumbled to himself and johnny nudged him on the arm. he groaned and got up, his stomps were heavy and unwilling. 

once he was in front of your door, he knocked twice loudly so he wouldn’t have to spend so much time to get you. there was a small tune playing in your room, like it was from a music box. the door was already opened. he peeped through the thin gap, seeing you still sleeping soundly. goodness’ sake, he thought, and entered the room since your mother was asking if he woken you up. 

your room was in fact, neat. all things were organised and arranged. if there was one thing he learned from you other than being an ass, was that you loved stuffed animals. not a hint of dolls or barbies or any toy displayed related to that spectrum. two lines of medals displayed and they all shone in gold. plaques had your names and young portraits of you with smiles of victory. hendery wasn’t lying when he said you were a professional. he wasn’t going to lie— you were impressive despite the little horns coming out of your head.

he stood next to your bed where you were all bundled in a huge blanket. he raised a brow, it was strange for you to have two thick blankets covering you. “hey y/n.”

no response. 

“y/n. wake up, your mom is calling for breakfast and you’re usually the first one seated at the table.” he wriggled your body with the butt of the umbrella and you didn’t budge.

“she baked croissants and aren’t they your favourite? dipped in chocolate ganache and sprinkles?” he tried sounding happy. note that, he tried.

this girl.. he bit the insides of his lips, spotting the markers in a cylinder container and took one to begin drawing on your face. his soft giggles filled your room and the strong scent of markers met your nostrils, waking you from your slumber. 

“what the he- jaehyun?!” you hissed at how close his face was to yours, failed to realising he was done drawing on your morning skin. “get away from me!”

everyone downstairs could hear the both of you, arguing like cats and dogs. each footstep might’ve covered the entire floor above them and the ceiling could give in. 

“you ruined my morning with your ugly face!” “what?! you’re more ugly, ugly!” “you entered my room?! you have no rights!” “breakfast’s ready and your mom asked me to!” “well my nose could’ve smelled mom’s food but i smelled your stinky breath instead!”

“whatever, i finished your share of croissants!” jaehyun quickly head down the staircase.

“you dare eat my food?!” you still had a blanket from head to toe as you followed him down. “no one takes my food!”

“your loss since you’re still in bed you lazy ass!” jaehyun sat beside johnny and continued his meal. “and you were snoring loud too-”

“i did not- agh!” you grumpily sat and immediately eyed the last croissant sitting at the center of the table. all eyes were on you with black ink scribbled on your face. 

there was an awkward silence then you felt jaehyun’s stare at the only food you wanted for breakfast. there was a back and forth battle of stares between you, him and the food. maybe it was the slow reflexes you have in mornings that jaehyun took the bread before you did. he stuck out a tongue as he deliciously ate half of it, chewing slowly just to let you imagine the flavours of sweet silky chocolate. you could feel yourself drooling and the cravings of your stomach rising up to your throat. every chew he did was a stab to your guilty-pleasure heart. 

jaehyun stopped and gave a smug grin. “you wanted this y/n?” his question sounding a song rather than an honest one. “all you have to do is beg.”

you gulped, rolling your eyes. “shut up!” you kicked his knee out of jealousy and savoured the soup instead. 

“ow!” he hissed through a laugh and looked at your mom. “mrs. y/f/n, i’d like to know the recipe for this. do you give lessons?” jaehyun licked the remains of chocolate around his lips, hopefully it was enough to cover up the violence you did under the table.

your mother giggled at his sweet talk. “why learn it from me when you have y/n to teach you?”

you choked on your soup and tear your gaze away from jaehyun to your mother, where she was already enjoying your shocked reaction. “oh give me a private lesson, bulldog terrier.” he propped his chin and mimicked clicks as if he was calling animal.

you quickly touched and rubbed your face to see the ink contaminate your fingers. the spoon reflected the dark circle around your right eye. “oh my g- you! this will be hard to remove!” the fork around your hand pointed directly at him. 

“y/n!” hendery put down your wrists as jaehyun laughed loud. you took the wet wipes marg gave you and whined a little whilst you stood by the mirror behind jaehyun.

“don’t be so bummed out honey.” your mom assured, giving a wink to jaehyun. “it’s a small prank. marg did it to you before.”

checking yourself for the last time at the mirror, you rolled your eyes. “i have enough patience for marg,” with one hand you cupped jaehyun’s lower face from the chin spreading to the cheeks, soon pinching hard on his dimples with a pointer finger and thumb. “but none for the human bread.”

“ow don’t touch me!” jaehyun swifted his head to look at you and he saw you flashed a smile like you were satisfied. 

��a human bread with molds. ew, i lost appetite so i’ll be out for a ride.” you stood up to grab your coat. “see ya ugly.”

“remember to you have to clean the barn house y/n!” your mom called out.

“yeah got that!”

johnny and mark bent their heads down and let their friends suffer from multiple dots on his faces. what made it funnier was that jaehyun munched happily on his meal, hadn’t gotten a single clue. he then eyed you when you passed the window and straight to the stables. “isn’t it too early for practice?” he drank his cup of hot chocolate. 

“she can ride all day. sometimes she doesn’t arrive home and the next morning you see her sleeping in the barn house.” marg tied her hair into a high bun. “the amount of dedication is there, except the passion she used to have isn’t really there anymore- hey!” she glared at hendery who gave her a warning look. 

what was that all about? jaehyun thought while his eyebrows met together and good thing it wasn’t obvious to your family. he was indeed curious, but he’d rather hear it from you than to look like a jerk who wanted to gossip about personal lives. the thing was, it’s you. though majority of the week was him suffering with workload, he liked to bicker with you until you gave up and had nothing to say. 

so far he recorded as 5-11 in terms of owning the other. the latter was his score and he was proud of it.

hendery’s phone vibrated and slid it to jaehyun’s place. jaehyun blinked to adjust his sight to the brightness of the phone. a sigh came out of his lips and the rest of them could tell it was another order from you. “ooh that doesn’t sound good.” mark slurped his soup. 

“it’s not.” jaehyun brushed his hair and hesitation slowly crept his body. “she asked me to clean the upper floor of the barn by the time she arrives.”

—

jaehyun massaged his wrists by twisting them. he looked at the barn house’ entrance because he noticed a figure approaching. you’ve had the best morning after jaehyun ruined it. as you rode, nothing beats the freshness of the cool wind. you love riding through the woods and grasslands. it sets you free from everything keeping you caged. your smile began to falter when you saw jaehyun who was not even halfway close to finishing. “you’re late. your mom had to apologise on your behalf because i’m doing the job for you.”

“ooh thanks! i’ll count on it!” you laid comfortably on a chair.

“hey!”

you leaned against the furniture, arms crossed where he was a floor above and standing at your 2 o’clock view. “dr. jeong it looks like you’re having a hard time. need help?” you stifled a laugh because he still has the ink marks you left on his face.

“on with the assumptions again, aren’t we?” he fixed his gloves and moved wooden planks from one place to another. 

“yeah you make yourself too easy of a target, jaehyun. and i thought you’re the type to not take things seriously.” you tied jet’s reins to a pole.

“you’re forgetting my condition number two, you can only badmouth me if the others are around. now get your flat butt up here and move the tool box aside so i can continue what i’m doing.” he grunted whilst lifting. 

dusting your pants, you were now standing a storey high. the sight of the height below you made you sick. jaehyun nudged your arm and you took the items blocking his way. you sighed and he noticed how fidgety you were. he put up a small smile. his entertainment from you didn’t end at the breakfast table. 

he scooted closer to you, pretending to bump into you with the pile of tall wooden planks in his arms. he heard you hiss, and that was the signal to begin. “oops didn’t see you there shorty.” there was a change in his voice, a more aggressive type of approach. 

“you’re doing that on purpose.” you checked the pained area of your forearm.

“what if i’m not? it could be an honest mistake.” he tilted his head away from the wood to see you.

a held-in soft disbelief laugh came out of your lips. “honesty doesn’t really blend in well with you.” 

jaehyun gasped with arched brows. “wow i’m very offended— you think this face..” he largely gestured himself. “would ever lie?”

“if you want to hear me saying you’re handsome.. it’s not happening.“ you took the rope to hang on a nail. 

“but you did say it.” he singsonged and you could push him off the loft but that could only happen in your head. 

“then that’s an honest mistake.” you flashed a forced smile at him. you carried the boxes stacked upon one another. “if you have a huge ego like that i bet you never dated. no girl would ever date you.” 

jaehyun fell silent, his mood to bash you suddenly changed. the shifts in his steps became heavier and as if he was putting his anger upon them. he didn’t like being reminded of sue, even if you unconsciously did so. “can’t you just keep quiet as you work? do you always have something to say? keep your damn mouth shut if you think all the fun you get is from belittling people.”

“okay sheesh sorry i didn’t know you have a heart for people too.” you removed your helmet to relieve the discomfort from it. 

as time passed— two hours to be exact, the more your guilt begin to seep in you. jaehyun never spoke after that. silence was like death at this point. not a hint of sniffs and sighs from him. did you go too far that he actually chose not to talk anymore? all you thought about was the pact he suggested. what now? anyone could appear any moment. 

this wasn’t like you at all. you hesitated to talk to him and to give the first move to bicker. you stood there staring at him piling boxes after boxes and sweeping the floor where dust accumulated like piles of sand. you bit your lips because screw this, you hated this atmosphere, you hated this silent treatment. “j-jaehyun?” you called out.

nothing. 

“hey-”

“hm? guilt eating you up now?” you froze at his voice as he chuckled. “it has, hasn’t it? look at your face!” he was laughing, his hands holding his ballooning stomach. “y/n you should’ve seen yourself!”

your gaze followed his hands that quickly took his phone placed at one corner. he was recording and your obliviousness blinded you. “oh you have no idea how much i wanted to laugh! my cheeks hurt so bad! hahaha!”

“you’re not using that to blackmail me!” you strided towards him.

he put his arm high as you struggled to reach it. “i might as well do that thanks for the idea!” faintly you heard his friends coming to check as to why their friend had the laughter of the century, only to find you both bickering again like this morning.

“delete that video jaehyun! i mean it!” “not until you agree to clean the loft!” “that’s like telling me to do everything!” “then that’s exactly what i’m telling you to do!”

johnny put up his phone to recording the struggling you and jaehyun enjoying his time to take advantage of his height. “dude i’ve never seen jaehyun this happy since sue broke up with him.”

“yeah his dimples are legit showing it’s scary me.” mark squinted at the two of you.

jaehyun swung his arms to avoid your attempted catches. he scrunched his nose and although that was undeniably cute, you couldn’t afford to feel humiliated for another two weeks. “jaehyun please delete it!”

“it’s not convincing enough you know?” “stop joking around we could fall!” you hissed. “fall?! then stop trying to get my phone!” “then put down your ridiculously long arm!” “yours are just too short!” “i swear— delete the footage!”

“you have to sound like you beg for it—” he cackled and with a few stretches you managed to reach his wrists as you lunged forwards. “oi stop!” that one last reach only made jaehyun lose his balance and fell backwards. 

and all you heard were yells of worry.

to say that you both gladly fell on soft pillows of hay was an understatement. at least that what it looked like to your friends. jaehyun was shocked, his arm felt numb. he took a good look at you and there you were laying on his arm with pale lips. “hey, you okay?” his hands were already out to help you. “y/n—”

“m’lady!” hendery rushed to you, causing jaehyun to flinch at the tone of his voice. he gently took your right arm, but you gritted your teeth and asked him to take the left. “painful?”

“not that serious.” you said, feeling the stares from jaehyun. “ew don’t look at me like that. i’m fine, really. let’s just call it a day.” you gave a small smile and he wasn’t buying it.

because jaehyun saw you clung onto hendery for dear life. 

[mimiplaysgames]

Terraqua Week Day 6 (Free Day)

Summary: Terra and Aqua are getting married—and Ven is the Bridezilla. || Word Count: 9,058

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek​ I could have never written this without my dear friend @localcryptideli​. We talked about this wedding years ago, and I promised to write it. It’s here, three years later, blending their headcanons with mine and I couldn’t be more proud of it. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

the threads that tie hearts together

Terra never once considered in his entire life that his wedding preparations would include the perk of mice squeaking in his ear—but he here is, in the tailor’s studio, getting re-fitted for his tuxedo, with Princess Cinderella’s team of seamstress mice on his shoulders, measuring the length of his arms. His muscles were too big for the previous suit. 

Ven refuses to hire a proper tailor, and instead rents out the parlor so the mice could do their work in private.

Lea sits on a nearby bench by the shoe shelves, the top button of his shirt open, jabbing at his Gummiphone. He’s quite popular today, pinged every two minutes. Isa and Roxas share a mirror, trying to get the mechanics of their bow ties right. 

Terra is getting married. 

The thought. Married. Soon. Yes. Damn. He can’t cry right now.

Terra stands in front of a mirror and bends his elbows to see how the fabric moves. The mice are tiny, three of them in skirts. They’ve developed an efficient obstacle course of threads all down his entire body, a network so the mice on the floor can deliver them supplies—spools, sewing needles, thumbtacks, measuring tape—in a jiffy. 

Lea groans, squeezing his Gummiphone. “This twerp is going to turn me into a serial killer.” He yawns, possibly for the fortieth time.

“Not an ill-fitting job, all things considered,” Isa says from across the room.

“I do appreciate your sarcasm.”

“Who’s bothering you?” Terra asks, lifting his collar so the mouse on his left could thread through it with a sewing needle.

Lea snorts, slaps his knee and leans forward. “Did you not know your buddy is a monster?”

“Ven?”

“Oh, he’s a joy.” Lea holds his Gummiphone up as if he’s about to make a speech. “Come help me pick out Aqua’s flowers. Now. If you could.” He glances at Terra, then back at the phone. “He writes that in all-caps.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be so pushy.”

“The other day, he called me to model the bride’s dress because Miss Aqua couldn’t be bothered to come to the fitting herself.”

“Master Aqua was away on a mission,” Isa explains.

“Isa took photos of me in it—” Lea scrolls through his phone, but stops. “Oh, I can’t show you before...” He clicks his tongue. “It’s very nice. Very bridal.”

Terra is sure that’s true, but the image of Ven hanging his head so much on someone else’s wedding is worrisome. Last night, he fell asleep at dinner. “I think Ven is taking on too much stress.”

“Lea,” Roxas says, snorting a chuckle and giving up on his bow tie, “you should show him the texts.” 

“Gladly.” Lea stands to shove the Gummiphone into Terra’s face. Out of the history, a couple of messages stand out.

Ventus

I got 500 cake flavors come taste them with me

Ventus

Which cologne do you think terra should wear

COME SMELL 

i need a second opinion

Ventus

Do you have aqua’s flowers yet?

remember 

we want orange roses and bluestars

Ventus

Aqua isnt here im freaking out

Youre closest to her body type

HELP

After all that, Terra feels as though he’s being watched by several microscopic eyes. One of the mice squeaks with urgency, and he straightens one of his arms. “I don’t know what to say... Why doesn’t he talk to me directly?”

Lea purses his lips as though this is a secret not worth sharing. Roxas is the one to step forward, a knowing grimace plastered on his face.

“He told me that he doesn’t want to bother you with anything.”

That doesn’t sound entirely false but not true either.

“That’s ridiculous.” Terra tests the bend of the elbow to fiddle with his bow tie. It’s already done but something about it doesn’t sit right. “He could come to me for anything,” he says with a low voice, wondering if there’s something he’s missing. Terra has also been a mess. He’s getting married. Holy stars. 

Isa huffs out of frustration, turning away from the mirror, his bow tie undone. He studies Terra’s suit. “I don’t like it.”

His straightforwardness is well appreciated. Aqua would probably smirk at the sight of it and stare at his neck the entire ceremony. “I don’t either,” Terra says.

“Smart man.” Isa smirks, and tugs Terra’s bow tie to undo it. “Let’s change it.”

Lea snorts. “You might want to ask permission from he-who-shall-be-slapped.”

“It’s my wedding,” Terra says.

“So you think.”

He-who-may-be-slapped enters the tailor’s parlor through the front entrance, announced by the bell of the ring. He’s perfectly dressed in his ringbearer’s/best man’s/maid of honor’s suit, vest fitted, bow tie sublime, sleeves coiffed. He sees what Isa is doing. He gapes.

“Hey guys,” Ven asks with a frustratingly shaky voice. “What are we doing?”

“They are unbecoming,” Isa answers, wrapping a traditional tie around Terra’s neck.

“Oh.” 

Sometimes, speaking to Isa is like getting clocked in the stomach. By the looks of Lea’s expression, chewing on the edge of his Gummiphone, it’s well deserved.

“Okay,” Ven says, with a tight smile. He takes the tie from Isa’s hands. “Do they match?”

“A hello would be less rude,” Terra says. “Hi, Ven. Can we talk?”

Ven glances up. “Later. There’s lots to do.”

Lea inhales sharply. “Hey, Ven. Here’s an idea. Did you know you could tame cicadas to sing in harmony on command?”

Ven whips his head around. “You can?”

Isa brings a hand up to hide a smirk and Lea passes him a subtle wink.

“Picture it.” Lea opens his arms. “From nine until eleven at night, they gather in the bushes. They mutter, a light dusting of atmosphere on a peaceful summer night.”

Ven’s eyes grow wide with obsession. 

Roxas comes near. “You can also make them glow.”

“Like stars in the bushes,” Ven whispers to himself.

“Come on, guys,” Terra says, unimpressed. “Leave him alone. We’ve got better things to do.”

Ven snaps himself out of it, but not before pulling out a notepad and writing notes. He eyes Terra over, nudging him to open his arms and pinching the sides of the suit. Ven draws them in by the measure of a finger and pulls pins out of his pocket, like he’s been expecting to use them, and marks their places. “Jaq Jaq,” he calls, “where’s Suzy? We need to make sure these ties look right. Oh, and we need two extras—we have to ship some to Riku and Sora.”

Some mouse squeaks in reply.

“I can help her carry things.” Ven gives a flash of a smile and then hurries off.

Out of earshot, Lea gives Terra a look. “Anyone able to talk to mice is a crazy person in my book.”

Terra glares back and quotes, “‘You could tame cicadas to sing on command?’”

“He needs something to obsess over. How else am I going to get peace?”

“This is going to bite you in the ass,” Roxas says, wrapping his new tie over the neck and having a much easier time.

“Ventus may very well task you with hunting and gathering the cicadas,” Isa says, a tie already in place, immaculate. 

Lea groans and Terra feels it’s well deserved. 

Well deserved… the suit may be. The future wife, maybe not. The suit is a glove for every finger with no excess. It makes him a good-looking groom, a nice addition to the closet for any special occasion. The bride is beautiful, no matter what she wears. She is loyal, patient, strong, intelligent, loving, funny when she’s stern, too good for him, a divine gift he didn’t earn and he still can’t understand how she said yes.

“I hope you’re laughing at the face of my misery,” Lea says.

Terra knows that’s sarcasm. Weddings are headaches, emotions are terrifying and Terra needs Aqua like a sip of medicinal tea to calm down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The others squeal when they walk into Le Grand Bistro. It’s sunset, the city lights already ignited and giving it the glow of evening fairies welcoming the moon. They’ve just discussed dresses—Xion requests a pantsuit instead, which looks stellar—and they can choose their own styles so long as they all wear the color of night. Simple, elegant. That’s the kind of effect Aqua prefers. Thank goodness they’re almost done. Aqua couldn’t handle more hands in her hair and she rejected the flower crown that would have come down on one side to compensate for the lack of length. 

She fiddles with the ring—a thin, intricate design weaved around a small, blue stone—as a waiter escorts them to the kitchen. On days when she doesn’t have missions, she wears it.

Aqua is getting married. Some part of her wonders about the surreality of it, like it’s a dream or a picture she created in her mind when she was a child, at the altar with a faceless person next to her. Sometimes, it feels like she is already married. Terra has always been with her. Every day in class. Every day strolling through the woods. Every day sparring, sharing meals, bickering and laughing. Her best friend, her confidant, her rock.

There is something about nearly dying that challenges perspective. When they both thought they’d never see each other again, it made them realize there’s more to it and there’s been more to it for years. The emotional intimacy that strengthened after the fact. The physicality of it, when he takes her to bed. They argue differently, they laugh the same. Terra has always been with her, so what is the difference between being with him and being married to him? A part of her is eager to find out. The other is already at peace, a kind of joy Aqua has always wanted.

Ven is in the kitchen, talking with Remy (responding to Remy, who is naturally unintelligible). Plates of cake pieces sprawl out on the table, eliciting oohs and aahs from the others, all patient like they’re waiting for Aqua’s permission to take a small bite.

Aqua reads through the description of flavors—strawberry, fudge, angel food cake with blueberries, red velvet, even coffee. “The one we requested isn’t here.”

“You mean…” Ven pulls out his notepad and looks through his notes. Remy climbs onto Ven’s head, squeaking and pointing to a bowl of flour and eggs, unmixed. “Dark chocolate and rum?”

“That would be correct.”

“A spicy cake? Are you insane?” At his shock and at Aqua’s denial, Kairi helps herself to a spoonful of vanilla. “This is a wedding, not a club!”

“My wedding, Ven.” Aqua isn’t annoyed, but amused. Ven has such strong opinions about for some reason. 

“Try this one.” He holds up a plate of a decorated piece that honestly looks delicious. “Triple chocolate, with the rarest berries found in the woods, matured at thirty-five degrees Celsius for a week.” 

“Burnt cake?” Kairi asks with a smirk.

“Not the cake, the berries.” 

“Oh,” Xion gasps, with need in her eyes. It takes a nod from Aqua to grab a fork and have at it. She approaches each piece with so much excitement— Aqua wonders if there are flavors here she’s never tried before in her short life. 

“What will the final cake look like?” Naminé asks, the only one not to dive forward. She’s so gentle, so serene. When they were trying out dresses, everyone was saying what a beautiful bride she’ll be one day if she chooses. 

“Perfect,” Ven says, like it’s the most obvious thing. “It has to be perfect so it will look beautiful. Painted like a night sky, with stars everywhere. You got that, Remy?”

Remy glares at Ven.

“I want,” Aqua starts, and when Ven frowns, she smirks. Sometimes, for the sake of maintaining control, she has to play dirty. “Rosewater and cardamom.” 

Ven sticks his tongue out in disgust.

“Terra needs something to enjoy,” Aqua insists. “These are all too sweet for him.”

“Terra is the bane of my existence.”

“By the way, I don’t know if I want King Mickey and Queen Minnie to officiate.”

“You are way more difficult to deal with.”

Aqua and Ven have a staring contest as the others talk about their favorite flavors. Ven, a glare, a challenge to outwit her. Aqua, a calm knowing that she’s going to win. Ven relents.

“Fine,” he stresses. “Remy, change of plans. We’ll need some damage control. Let’s add some”—he writes into his notepad—“fruit pastries, sweet cheese with chocolate—”

“Triple chocolate,” Kairi adds.

“Custard and kiwi,” Xion says.

“All good choices.” Ven writes them down.

“Sea salt ice cream?” Naminé says, lifting a shoulder. “Everyone else eats them, I hope to try some.”

“Ven.” Kairi slams a hand on the table. “You need to add marshmallows covered in hazelnut and chocolate.”

“We need all the chocolate,” Ven agrees. “Call it revenge on this nasty cake.”

Kairi cackles, but it’s nothing malicious. They’re young and excited about the wedding, their suggestions a way of helping. Aqua takes it all in stride. The small details don’t matter, only the intent, and letting friends have fun deciding makes the entire process easier. What’s bothering her is Ven. He’s exhausted from taking it all too seriously. Aqua assumes the best intentions, but she doesn’t get it.

“You know what would be really cute?” Xion says. “Little petit fours shaped in your symbols.”

Ven blinks. “What symbols?”

“Oh, the Keyblade Master symbols.” Naminé claps her hands. “That would be so lovely.”

“In different colors,” Xion says.

“Each a different flavor,” Naminé adds. “Maybe the same colors as your Wayfinders?”

“You two are geniuses.” Ven taps his notepad. “Remy, we gotta get to work.”

Remy stomps a paw and squeaks vigorously.

“No worries. You’ll get paid.” Though it seems that’s the last thing on Remy’s mind.

“Ven,” Aqua says softly, pulling him aside as the others brainstorm ideas. “I don’t think we can afford all this.”

“Sure you can,” he says too confidently, though she and Terra were the ones to save up their munny. “Don’t worry,” he stresses when she’s not convinced, giving her a squeeze on the arm. “You asked me to bookkeep your finances” 

“Reminder that I did not ask you to take full responsibility. Remy can’t do all of this alone, he’s going to need you.”

“I’ve got plenty of time, and we’ve got plenty of budget.”

Aqua does not know how that is possible. After the dresses, the refitting of Terra’s tux, the decorations… sure, since they’re using the ballroom in the Land of Departure, they saved on not having to rent out a venue, but the original plan was to have a small, intimate wedding in the woods, something private with just the three of them, minimal decorations necessary, all plucked from nature. 

All of this is out of their price range.

Ven goes back to the table, back to the stovetop and oven where he follows Remy’s instructions and mixes the flour in the bowl with some milk. He doesn’t assuage her at all, like he knows something she doesn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Home should be a solace but not when it’s the wedding rehearsal. 

Ven has ushered in movers from different worlds to carry in artifacts, all decorations, all star-themed. Terra has yet to see the ballroom, but the amount of people rushing through the hallways makes him nervous. 

Ever since Terra called Riku in the dead of night (in a panic, needing someone to talk to, alone in the kitchen with a cracked mug of tea), blabbing about tripping on the way to the altar, or cutting the cake clean through the table, or stepping on linen and ripping the curtains, or dropping his plate of food, or looking like an idiot on the dance floor, or worse—forgetting his vows—he hasn’t lived a moment of peace. Sora won’t let him. 

Terra finds it hard to breathe. What if he chokes on his vows and accidentally offends everyone?

He stays far away from the workers—it’s for the best. No one needs a huge bull stampeding in a china shop, destroying everything.

Lea crosses the hallway on his sixth trip and enters one of two entrances to the ballroom, vases of flowers in his hands. Terra peeks. From the looks of it, Ven did a fantastic job. 

The ballroom, once gold, now looks like the set of night. The ceiling is covered in blue with twinkling lights. The table linens are also dark, with napkins and silverware sets a solid gold. Glass windows that take up one entire side to the ballroom are bare of curtains—the wedding is planned for after sunset so they’d be declaring their vows under the stars. Two navy blue carpets come in through both entrances of the ballroom, meeting in the middle and then straight to the altar at the far end. The point is for him and Aqua to enter together, like equals. With her in a bridal dress, she’ll look like a light in the darkness.

Through the doorway, Terra can see Riku and Sora, the latter making motions with his arms as if he’s flapping like a bird. Terra lets the door close so they don’t notice him. 

There are fears he’s never voiced.

What if she realizes she doesn’t want to get married to him after all? At the altar no less?

Oh stars, what if he makes a terrible husband? 

What if he neglects her?

What if, years down the road, she realizes after a slowly oncoming epiphany that she isn’t happy and regrets it?

Tonight is the party, tomorrow is the wedding, and Terra still has no vows. He pinches his nose hard enough to distract him from crying. He’s already cried five times in the arc of three hours.

Footsteps—light, brisque, confident, hers—approach him, and Terra embraces her in his arms, taking her in with a needy kiss. She smells like home, she lets him breathe again. 

“You look like you’re about to fall apart,” she says, stroking a thumb on his cheek.

“Not if you’re my glue.”

She snorts, smacking him on the bicep. “What did I say about the puns?”

“Shower you with them.”

He kisses her before she can roll her eyes—

—and gets interrupted the moment Ven peeks out of one door. 

“What’s with the hold-up?” he says.

Terra breaks from the kiss, casually noticing how Aqua is patting his shoulder, as if to warn him. “What’s with your attitude?”

Ven pouts like he’s about to choke and slaps the notepad to his forehead. “No one listens to me. I said baby blue and champagne on the napkins, all shaped to form the constellation of Juno… and they gave me yellow. I am gonna complain so much.”

“There are worse things?” Terra says and Aqua shakes his shoulder as another warning. 

Ven snaps his eyes open. “Get into position, we’re starting.”

Aqua stands behind one door and Terra goes to the other, waiting for the cue to enter. On the other side, Ven is speaking out loud, organizing people and where they should stand. Grooms and bridesmaids will enter the altar from behind and gather together, leaving the carpet only for the star couple (no pun intended). He interrupts himself, raising his voice about vases that match too much and Terra can imagine him pointing across the room.

“I have to tell you something,” Aqua loudly whispers from the other side of the hall. 

Terra runs to her and wraps an arm around her waist. Touching her is a panacea. Despite knowing there is still a possibility she’ll rethink this entire relationship, it seems unreal, like a nightmare.

“It’s about Ven,” she continues, keeping her voice low even though they’re the only ones in the hall.

“Lea threatened to slap him.”

She frowns.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Don’t you think it’s too expensive?”

“I don’t know. Ven doesn’t tell me how much anything costs.”

“It’s way more than we have saved up.”

Terra gapes. “Then how—?”

Aqua stammers, fiddling with her fingers. “I looked into his books.”

Terra melts into a breath-heavy laugh, careful to keep his voice out of it. “Reading people’s diaries? Aqua, I thought I knew you better.”

She blushes. “I didn’t mean to, but I was worried.” Now Terra is worried. Her expression is too serious. “Ven has been doing side-missions and hustles for months just to earn enough to hire the best chefs and tailors, to buy linens and all these flowers and carpets—” 

“He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

“Why?” 

“I think it’s because he wants us to be happy.”

“We are.” Terra doesn’t appreciate how he doesn’t sound confident, scared he’s assuming too much on her behalf. “How could he just…”

“We were stuck in darkness for so long and he couldn’t help us.”

“But that’s not his fault.”

“He feels he is the weakest and wants to compensate.” Aqua grimaces and she blinks back tears. 

“I feel so guilty.”

“I feel worse.”

“Why?”

Aqua bites her lip. “I’m still attached to the idea of a small, intimate ceremony in the woods. Just the three of us. Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No. Our wedding has become a spectacle. Maybe pointing that out makes me terrible, too.”

She groans. “I found a book. I left it in your room. It’s very last minute, but there are some ancient rituals in there that I found so beautiful… the exchanging of rings is beautiful, too, but modern and there are some lost traditions from our Keyblade history that I’d love to do instead... if you could take a look?” 

The way she smiles, stars. Ancient, modern, he’d do anything for her. “Sure. I’ll read it tonight.”

Aqua winces. “He’ll be so angry with us.”

Terra squeezes her hand. “He wants us to be happy. Think about that.”

One of the doors burst open, and Lea sticks his head out. “Kindly stop being an ass and don’t keep your guests waiting anymore?”

They start: Terra at one entrance, Aqua on the other, entering the ballroom at the same time, where guests will watch them approach one another, like the shadow of the moon to a star. They meet at the point where their lanes merge into one. 

Terra offers his arm—

“Nonono,” Ven warns, running up to them. “You can’t meet her like this. You must bow at a forty-degree angle.” Ven scans the room frantically. “Here, I have a ruler.”

After that hiccup, Aqua finally takes Terra’s arm, walking down the single aisle, where guests can ogle at them. Their groomsmen and bridesmaids take pictures with their Gummiphones for their arrival at a wall of flowers. 

Sora has his hands behind his head and snickers when they reach the end. “I made sure the carpet is ironed out so she doesn’t fall with you.”

“I’m going to kick you in the shins,” Terra says.

He snorts and wipes his nose. “I’ll kick you back.”

At the altar, Ven is too excited to stop rambling. “We have to make sure that you arrive here, at this spot, at exactly nine-thirty so we can finish the vows at ten because...” He frames the windows with his hands. “We’ve got a perfect spot for star sighting so we need to be on time.”

“Do you mean, right after the wedding ceremony?” Aqua asks. 

“Before the reception, yup. We’re walking out to the balcony, we’ll watch the meteor shower where a new world will be born, then we’ll come back in for supper and dancing.” When he notices their stupefied faces, he continues, “I spent three weeks finding the right angulations so you can witness a unique astronomical event, and we’ve got a miracle of a spot right here so we can’t be late.”

“It’s a wonderful thought, Ven,” Aqua says, her voice shaky.

“Okay, now you get into position and face each other.” He points and they follow. “Next, Mickey and Minnie will talk some stuff, you know, all official, and then you say your vows.”

Terra freezes up. “Our vows.”

“Yeah. That’s what I said. You ready?”

Terra hesitates and Aqua speaks for him. “We’re keeping those a secret until tomorrow.”

Ven pauses, then shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Aqua doesn’t let Terra have another thought, leaning forward to kiss him in front of everyone (aahs and awws elicited), and ending the rehearsal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“How do you get your skin so clear?” Kairi asks, though the warm glow of the fire makes for spectacular lighting. 

They’re camping in the woods near the waterfall, equipped with warm blankets and pillows, a bowl of cookies, and toasted marshmallows on sticks; Aqua’s vision of a bachelorette party. No gifts necessary.

“Mountain spring water does wonders for you,” Aqua says.

“I’ve read in a magazine,” Xion says, crawling out of her sleeping bag, “that some people like to put mud on their faces to get clean skin.”

“Why?” Naminé asks, chewing on a marshmallow.

“Something about the properties. Lots of good minerals.” She walks over to the creek, digging her hands into the dirt and smashing it into her face against the shocks and cries of the other girls. “If mountain water is good for you, then that must mean this mud is magical.” 

“Is that true?” Kairi says, though she’s asking no one. She hurries over and joins in on the mud-mashing, running fingers over Xion’s face in places she’s missed.

With globs of mud in their hands, they bring over the excess to the camp. 

Xion offers it to Aqua. “For beautiful skin on your special day?”

“It’s our job to pamper,” Kairi says with her hands out so that Naminé can scoop up the mud on her own. 

Aqua tries not to chuckle too loudly. It’s adorable. “Okay,” she says, and Xion gets to work, massaging it into her skin. It smells unpleasant, earthy and mukky. She closes her eyes and tries to relax regardless.

“I think we’re supposed to keep it on our faces for at least a half hour,” Xion says, rubbing more on Aqua’s nose. 

“This will make us prettier?” Naminé asks.

“Cleaner,” Kairi says. 

Naminé blinks, already covered in the mud and hesitating to put on more. “But we look dirty,” she says quietly.

“Can I request something, Miss Aqua?” Xion says, patting her fingers onto Aqua’s forehead.

“Certainly.”

“Can you tell us the story of how Terra proposed?”

Kairi jumps and squeals, and Naminé claps her hands, both of them chattering please, please, we’re dying to know.

“We’re around a fire,” Kairi says, as if that’s a convincing argument. “We’re supposed to tell stories.” 

“I feel bad for asking,” Naminé says. “You’re very private, and I don’t want to intrude…”

Aqua reads her face. “But you’re curious.”

Naminé pouts. Xion’s eyes go wide, and Kairi nods excitedly. Everyone is guilty as charged.

“It’s a simple story, I guess,” Aqua says, crossing her legs and watching the fire. It’s not often that she talks so openly about the details of her relationship. The two of them together is something people know, but never knowing where they come from and why, except for Ven—even then, there’s so much he never pries to. Watching their reactions is a little overwhelming. She rubs the stone on her ring. “Terra made the engagement ring with his own hands, but he took months to propose.”

“I remember that,” Xion says, sitting on her chair and smiling. “It annoyed Lea so much that he offered to set you both up just to get it over with.”

Aqua laughs. “I’m grateful we had it to ourselves.”

“Was it romantic?” Kairi asks.

“Not at all. I… knew he was up to something. I know him.” She lifts a shoulder. “He was burning breakfast too often, he couldn’t look me directly in the eye, and he left on his own to do more missions than usual. I took that as though he had done something wrong. The last time he was that clumsy and avoidant, it was because he accidentally cast Firaga in the library and was trying to hide it. Or when he broke the oven. Or when he offered to do my laundry but didn’t know how to treat my fabric and ruined my clothes.”

“He sounds like a clumsy oaf,” Kairi says.

That makes Aqua smile. She loves that oaf. “He is. The general rule of thumb is that a clumsy, avoidant Terra is usually hiding something.”

“So how did the proposal happen?” Naminé asks.

“I cornered him—”

Kairi snorts.

“—and he blurted it out.”

They giggle, Kairi acting out how that may have looked and Naminé holding her hands over her heart in a show of genuine affection. 

Aqua smiles to herself, a finger to her lips. It might be her favorite memory, her standing her ground and demanding to know what was going on. 

Terra, looking all around the terrace except for her face, guilty, guilty, guilty, pulling a box out of his pocket and stammering for a cohesive sentence. Well, I don’t know what to say, he had said, like a child getting grounded. I-I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I’m a big lump of a human being. He paused, his cheeks rounding up like he was about to vomit. Will…will you marry me, anyway?

It felt like racing in a train and pulling all the stops, crashing. He got red in the face, tears welling in his eyes and she realized he took her silence as rejection. Aqua had to hold his forearms, and all she could utter was a soft, I genuinely thought you burned down a building.

Terra’s eyes went wide. Do you mean you’re not mad?

Of course not. Why would I be?

So… He licked his lips, reaching for her but not touching her, forgetting that he had the box with the ring inside. What do you say? I mean, you don’t have to give me an answer straight away. I mean, I just thought you would… you know… because… He sighed. Yeah.

Aqua finally laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. Of course I will marry you, you beautiful dork.

The laughter quiets around the fire. They’re waiting for Aqua to continue her story.

“Then he drops the ring.”

They howl, melting into a blissful exchange of cheers and gossip, a vibrant hearth brighter than the one keeping them warm. 

“I had hoped to propose first, actually,” Aqua continues. She shrugs. “The end.”

“That was beautiful,” Naminé says, wiping her eyes.

“If Sora hears about this, he’ll never leave Terra alone,” Kairi says, grinning something mischievous. 

“I don’t know what love is supposed to look like,” Xion says thoughtfully, gazing at the sky. “But it sounds sweet.”

In Aqua’s opinion, the proposal was perfect, him scattered on the ground frantically searching for the ring, her on her knees helping him. How he slipped it on her finger, how they kissed for an hour in the dirt, unaware that they were dusty, unaware that anyone else existed in the world. 

Aqua nods, mostly to herself. It aches to be away from Terra tonight but it burns her insides to see him tomorrow and finally do this. Aqua wants to sleep and get this night over with but she doesn’t want to sleep so she could see the sunrise, knowing he’d be up early watching the same thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bachelor parties aren’t fun.

Sora is whooping about a cannonball, the water splashing when he makes contact. Ven and Roxas race to the lake, testing who will be the first to dive, the first to swim across and come back. Considering the expanse of the surface area, they’ll be gone for a while and the barbecue will get cold, but maybe it’s for the best. It’s not the right time to talk to Ven right now, not when all of them have a moment of fun (except for Terra, the only one here thinking about tomorrow). Lea and Isa prefer to relax, sipping drinks on their chairs by the lanterns erected onto the sand, speaking quietly about memories, about chores, about home and what ifs. 

Terra sits by himself, the thin booklet Aqua gave him on his lap, tucked under layers of parchment. It’s titled The Way, no author. She was right: old Keyblade rituals are interesting, almost possessive, their focus on the literal binding of hearts. They’re from the Age of Fairytales, and Terra realizes as he reads through it that ancient Keyblade wielders were for some reason obsessed with the loss of memory and the prevention of it. The rituals sound painful, too—maybe Aqua has developed a mild taste of macabre from her time in the Realm of Darkness. 

All Terra has left to do are his vows. His stupid, dorky-sounding vows. He should have accepted the simple, “I do.” He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute.

He’s tried dramatic.

You are my other half, my heart, my breath of life, my sky, my angel, can we keep our souls together? 

He’s tried poetic.

The mountain will thirst if not for the water— 

He’s tried being honest.

I don’t know why you love me, but I’ll do my best to make it up to you.

All dumb.

Terra groans into his hands, eyes wide in existential blunder. 

“Keep doing that,” Riku says, setting a chair next to him and sitting down, “and you won’t be able to blink again.”

“I’m not finished.”

“But if you don’t sleep, then you’re more likely to have accidents.”

Terra gapes and almost whacks Riku on the side of the head from the sight of his constricted smirk. “You’re so mean. I called you one time.”

“In a huge panic talking about causing mass destruction of a wedding the worlds have never seen.” Riku shrugs nonchalantly. That’s his state of being—too cool for anything, too sensitive for everything. It’s refreshing. “It was the funniest phone conversation I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll never call you again.”

“Not in the middle of the night, please no.” Riku bites a forkful of steak. “Is it cliché to tell you to speak from the heart?”

“This entire conversation is cliché, but here I am, living it out.” Terra stares at his messy pages, where he pressed the pen so hard that it left ink blots.

“You could do the very committal thing and tell her you love her fifty times.”

“All the guests would leave by the time I reach twenty-five.”

“More like fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Disaster.”

Terra grimaces, not entirely comforted, but not entirely anxious anymore, either. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“It is a big deal, I’ll give you that,” Riku says, more serious. “I don’t have any advice.”

“None of it makes sense. Be honest, but not too honest. Be loving, but don’t make it cheesy. Express yourself, but hold back on certain things. Do make it personal. Don’t expose personal details. How am I supposed to know how to do it right?” 

It would be easier if there are no witnesses. If it’s just Ven, if Aqua is the only person he’s talking to, if he could simply say, You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I know I’ve fucked up. For as long as I live, I’ll never do that again. I will never take your forgiveness for granted.

And if she doesn’t want to be with him anymore, there’d be nothing he could say to make her stay.

“I think if Aqua was the kind of person who expected you to do it right,” Riku says, looking out to the lake where Ven and Roxas are swimming back to their shore, “you wouldn’t be marrying her.”

Terra bends the pages, exposing the cover of the thin, leather bound booklet. There are no vows he could use in there, except for the officiator declaring their hearts intertwined. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Sorry I can’t be of more help.” 

Riku pats him on the shoulder and leaves him alone to take a walk, Sora begging him to enter the water. Terra flips to a page where he’s repeated I love you, I love you all over, each in different calligraphy, like doodling, like losing his mind and procrastinating the night away, hoping that any moment, inspiration would drop bricks on him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s time.

The strangest part of the day is waiting it out in her bedroom until it’s her turn to show herself. Over the years, her bedroom has been a reflection of her personality. The cleanliness, the artifacts from her home world long ago, the size of the bed, the furniture—they all stayed the same. What’s come and gone were the paint colors, the bedsheets, the art on the wall, the smaller vanity mirror. Her bedroom is her old life, and she sits in front of the mirror in her bride’s dress, about to start a new one. For now, they both collide, as though her childhood doesn’t know her.

The cape dress is simple, plain white with the neck scooped across the collarbone. The sleeves slit at the shoulders, draping over to the floor with the rest of the train. Aqua couldn’t have asked for something better. She completes the look with the ring, a jeweled hair pin on one side, and an armored choker. Makeup is minimal. 

Aqua is surprisingly calm and the sun is going down. 

Her Gummiphone buzzes with a text message.

Terra

Let’s do it

Aqua sighs, not texting back immediately.

Aqua

I don’t want to break Ven’s heart

Terra

I’ll talk to him

We can both get what we want

I already stole some flowers from the wall

Don’t think he notices

She chuckles, moving a hair strand behind her ear. She hasn’t noticed that her stomach has been a knot, from excitement, from nerves, from anticipation. The sun takes so long to set. Terra is the warmth of a tight blanket.

Aqua

Will this label me as a runaway bride?

Terra takes a long time to answer, giving her the impression that he must have been distracted and forgot to reply. 

It buzzes.

Terra

The shame

Aqua

What will they think when they find out the groom seduced her to it

Terra

The scandal 

when they hear how she met him secretly at the creek 

an hour before the ceremony

It sounds like an action plan. Aqua picks up her bouquet of orange roses and bluestars from her vanity table, heading out the door.

Aqua

I want Ven there

Terra

Definitely

I love you

Aqua

I love you too

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra finds Ven in the dining room, taking inventory of an indulgement of sweets and a feast of meats, fritters, and rice. The wedding cake is as tall as his body, a dark blue with smacks of gold glitter in the shapes of galaxies, large stars framing each layer, and topped with two halos. Ven is mostly dressed in his vest and tie, the suit missing. By comparison, Terra is overdressed, a groom ready for his encore.

Ven sighs when he sneaks a cookie the shape of the Keyblade Master symbol into his mouth, as though Terra’s presence reminds him of disappointment. 

“I couldn’t tame the cicadas,” he says morosely, like he’s apologizing, and for a moment Terra second-guesses what he’s about to do. Ven eyes the white rope curled around Terra’s shoulder. “What’s that for?”

“This may either cheer you up or piss you off,” Terra says, dropping The Way on the counter.

“I don’t like how you said that.” As Ven flips through pages, he frowns, chewing on the side of his lip. “Are you... not happy with the wedding preparations?”

Terra inhales, caught off guard. “Of course I am. Happy, I mean. It’s… huge. It’s a giant ordeal.”

“And you don’t like that,” Ven says quietly, stroking one of the pages with his thumb.

“I think there are things we’ve always wanted to have privately.” Terra sits on a stool, but Ven won’t look him in the eye. “And we want you to be there. We can do it now. We’ll be back in time for our guests.”

The booklet shakes in his hands. “I messed up.”

“From my point of view, I’ll be eating very well tonight. There’s nothing to compensate for.”

Ven closes the book. “I just wanted to do a good job.”

“If you allow Lea to slap you, he’ll forgive you.” Terra smiles, but Ven doesn’t join him. “We’re still doing your grand ceremony—that, we could never pull off on our own. But we also want something tiny and ours, and we won’t do this without you.” Terra takes Ven’s hand and squeezes it, before glancing at the cake. “I hope it’s delicious.”

“It’s disgusting so you’ll definitely like it.”

“See, I can always count on you.” Terra stands up. “Now come on. You wouldn’t want us to be late for the bride.”

Terra takes him to the creek, not far from where Aqua hosted her bachelorette camp, where the sound of rushing water is gentle and the creek splits into two directions, one that would drip off the side of a cliff and one that would join a massive river downstream. The trees huddle close in the clearing, a soft shadow from the fierceness of the setting sun, like a pocket of protective magic in the middle of the forest. 

Ven gasps. “You stole my flowers.”

“Please, you didn’t even notice.” Terra had built an easy wooden arbor before the crack of dawn that morning, an arch weaved with orange and blue flowers, spotted every so often with green lilies. He showered right after so no one would suspect.

“Let’s take it over there.” Ven points to a short boulder against a tree nearby, a good photo op. They pluck the arbor up from both sides and plant it in front of the boulder. Ven takes stock of the sight. “Not bad.”

“Thanks!”

“I take credit for the choice of flowers.” Ven rolls the rope into a tight circle, layering it on the boulder with each loop in equal circumference. He splays the book open and studies. “It’s kinda creepy,” he says though he gets no response and he doesn’t ask for one.

Terra shoves his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo and waits. Aqua isn’t here yet. The vest constricts his breathing, the thicket suddenly feels humid, and Terra wipes his cheek, realizing that his heart is beating fast. Time sped up to this moment and dropped him here without warning. Now it’s slowing down out of pure, unjustifiable spite to torture him in the final hour. 

“You okay, dude?” Ven asks.

Terra lifts his face to the sky to keep the tears in his eyes. “If I cry now, I think I’ll cry for the rest of the night.”

Ven snorts. “No one would be surprised, trust me.”

But it’s not working. He’s two seconds from sobbing. “I don’t know. I…” He scoffs. “I can’t believe it’s happening. I’m expecting her to never show up or brush me off last minute when she realizes what we’re doing—”

“No.” Ven approaches Terra like he’s about to punch him in the stomach to make a point. “Don’t think like that, she’d never do that.” 

Ven has good faith and better timing. Aqua approaches the other side of the clearing, the fabric of her dress gracefully making waves with every step, the foliage fluttering light and shadow on her figure. She holds her bouquet in one hand and a framed photograph tucked under the other.

It shocks Terra.

He can’t stop the flow of tears. He covers his shivering lips and the drip of his nose, his face twisting from the sight of her—brilliant, like she’s made of stars, a gift walking the earth.

“Terra, are you okay?” Aqua asks, rushing to him now, the train of her dress bouncing behind her. 

In the flash of an instinct, Terra runs to meet her, tripping over a branch and landing right into her arms. 

“You’re—” Terra sucks air in, his heart shoving itself up his esophagus. “Y-you’re s-so beautiful.”

Aqua uses her pinky to wipe his tears. “So are you.”

“Let me help you.” He takes the frame—a portrait of the Master, bordered with a white ribbon—and walks her to the arbor. Ven takes the portrait and places it on the boulder, their little family tied together, fractured in glued pieces, now and always. Before they start, Terra asks Aqua to pose under the arbor so he can take a picture of the trees and the flowers surrounding her. Beautiful.

“How do we do this?” Terra asks when he finds his voice again, still trembling. Aqua stands to the side to take her place. She’s beautiful.

Ven takes the book in his hands. The description of this ritual covers at most two pages. “Well, it’s archaic. It’s from the Age of Fairytales but it sounds like we will intertwine your hearts—but in an intense way, like we’re sewing them together.”

Aqua holds her bouquet to her chest. “Shall we start?”

Terra chuckles too hard, gasping for breath. “Simple as that.”

They wait for Ven’s cue, who also has no idea how to do anything. Ven clears his throat, shrugs his shoulders, and reads:

“We witness today the soldering of two hearts. To intertwine like the roots of a tree, the severance painful, the nourishment plentiful. A physical bond, a magical one, the merging of two sprites under the guidance of one truth. Two hearts, but one.” Terra watches the way Aqua watches him. There’s no one else in the world, Ven’s voice disconnected, like it floats on air. “Now it says to summon your Keyblades. Dig the tips into the ground, and offer your hilts to each other.”

Ends of the Earth is massive, taller than Ven. Stormfall looks delicate but it’s menacing, sharp, direct. They offer their hilts, the shafts crossed over each other, Stormfall light and airy in his hand, Ends of the Earth weighty and thick in hers. 

Terra finds it interesting that they’re using the hilt to connect each other’s hearts—the Keyblade should never be used against a person’s heart in traditional Mastery, because it’s such a dangerous weapon and it’s so violating. The blunt hilt, on the other hand, the physical manifestation of their hearts, is like exposure, an offer of vulnerability. 

Aqua’s feels like it’s thrumming, singing. She’s happy.

Ven steps forward with the rope and ties it over the hilts in loops. “This is just an image, the ties that bind, two Keyblades, but one. To intertwine a heart is to forge a chain, a friend, a companion, a memory. If missing then a void, a dream, a wish until reunion.” He steps back into position. “Before we go on, I think this would be a nice place to say your vows. Terra, you first.”

Terra stammers, looking into her eyes. “I-I couldn’t write one. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Ven whispers, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. “I wrote some just in case.”

Terra doesn’t take it. He licks his lips. “It wouldn’t have been graceful. None of it—all of my thoughts—pale in comparison to you, Aqua.” He steadies himself with labored breathing, the squeeze on her Keyblade like a hold on her waist. “You’re so, so beautiful, and I’ve spent my days believing I don’t deserve you, because… because I couldn’t make things right like I should have.” 

Aqua quivers, gently touching his arm with her free hand and motioning for him to breathe. 

He continues, “I’m sorry. I wish the Master was here. I wish I was smart enough to prevent it from happening.” He inhales, choking up from the mention of Eraqus. “I never thought you would marry me of all people, so… I promise... I will be there every step of the way. I promise you, if you’re scared at night, I’ll be there to protect you. If you’re hurting in another world, I’ll come find you. If you’re confused, I’ll hold you close and help you make sense of it. I’ll brew you tea to help you sleep, I’ll step in the line of fire even if you wish to do the same for me, I’ll walk to the ends of the earth to make sure you are safe and healthy. I promise I’ll be with you.

“And I’ll mess up. I know me. I’ll fix it. If you want to clobber me, I’ll be patient. I’ll learn. I’ll do better. Every day you save me from myself. This is the least I can do. I’ve loved you since I was a kid. I’ll love you every day.”

Silence falls on all of them, Terra sniffing just to get some fresh air, Ven wiping his eyes, Aqua blinking too much. 

“Now you, Aqua,” Ven says. 

Despite being teared up, Aqua holds it together. She’s so good at that.

“Terra, I stand with you because I do want to be here. I do want to be by your side. I do want to laugh at your bad jokes.” She relieves a giggle. “I love you. I have for as long as I can remember, even if I didn’t know the words for it.” She studies his face. “I’m sure the Master is here with us, and he couldn’t be prouder of you. I’m proud of you.” Suddenly, she switches her tone, as if to lecture. “And if you even fathom taking a hit for me, remember that I’m faster than you. I’ll protect you first.” Then she softens. “I promise to be your shelter when the storm falls on us. I promise to sit on your bedside when you’re sick, to lift you up when you’re down about yourself, because you are sometimes. 

“You are my home, no matter how far your heart is from me. If you need a star to light your way back, I’ll give it to you.” She smiles widely, like she’s about to laugh. “If something between us breaks, I’ll mend it with you. I can’t imagine my life any other way.”

Their words are now spoken. Aqua suppresses a laugh and grins like a child. Terra holds his breath, just in case he screams from every emotion that he can’t name.  

“Well,” Ven says, rolling his sleeve up so he could wipe his nose on his forearm. “I guess it’s time. This bond is an oath you will remember each other until you close your eyes for the last time, for the tragedy to forget is to be alone forever. Do you accept this?”

“I do,” Terra says.

Aqua hums. “Yes, I do.”

Ven smiles. “You know what to do.”

With his free hand, Terra presses two fingers to his chest, over his heart, where he builds a golden glow. Twenty years living with her, ten years in darkness thinking about her, this vow is impossible to break—even if they can’t do this any longer, Terra could never forget her. Never. In his hand is now a piece of himself, a nugget of his heart, a memory of her in his bed that he never wants to lose.

He takes those fingers to her chest, two thick golden threads drawn out from his heart. She winces at the touch, quick to dissolve. Stormfall shifts in his hand, growing longer, its hilt thicker and darker, wrapping around like a weaved shield. A subtle change, a little piece of him.

Aqua does the same, fingers to her chest first to create the threads, bringing them to his chest. It does hurt, like a needle digging into his skin, sharp for the entire length until it’s suddenly gone. 

He feels full, as though his insides are creating space for something extra. Warm, frightening, whole, exciting. Her piece is a memory he can’t read but he doesn’t need to. Ends of the Earth opens way for an icy blade to cut through the middle as the hilt fans out like wings. A piece of her to take with him where he goes.

“Alright,” Ven chirps, snapping the booklet closed. “The book ends with the quote, Two hearts, only one, but I think this means I can call you husband and wife in secret. So kiss.”

Their Keyblades dissipate when they hold each other, tender but with appetite, unaware of their surroundings for several selfish moments. With sewn threads, it’s as though he breathes through her. Terra presses her onto him, feeling how her heart now beats in sync with his.

“I love you,” she whispers. They are married. 

He’ll never tire of hearing it. Stars, they are married. “I love you, too.”

Terra hears Ven sniff before a handkerchief is shoved into his face. “You need your face dry and clean before everyone sees you,” Ven says. 

The sunset now is deep, a fiery orange. Terra doesn’t want to let go.

“I’ll hold you again tonight,” Aqua says, patting his chest. “I want to see the meteor shower Ven promised.”

“It’ll be a good one,” Ven assures.

Terra kisses her. “Then we have to make a run for it.” He picks Ven up like a log, jogging through the thicket of the forest with Aqua close behind him, the Master in her arms. When they approach the castle, in the twilight, they hear chatter coming from the halls, as though ghosts are partying outside. 

Terra feels at peace despite that he now has to perform, balancing on a tightrope where he doesn’t care if he falls. He turns around and holds her neck to kiss her again, feeling her laughter in his mouth. “One more?” he asks when they break. 

Ven, still tucked in Terra’s arm, groans. “I never asked for a front seat to the kissing show. Is this my punishment?”

Aqua kisses him one more time, whispering to him I love you for what will be a string of I love you’s in the night to come. Friends will cheer, Terra will trip on the way to the altar, Sora will cry because Terra will cry, Xion will eat too much cake and get sick, Isa will laugh because he is drunk, Kairi will be the star of the dance, Aqua will be the star in his eyes. 

[shih-coulda-had-it]

43 Nanahiko?!? :D

43. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.” | [Nanahiko]

*Scenario where Nana gets hit by a Hallucinatory/Coma Quirk that places her in Paradise but with a Twist. kudos to @thisauthorisscreaming for letting me play around with her premise

//

Nana’s head is ringing.

She takes stock of the situation. Her back is flat on the ground because Nana can see the ash-flecked sky; her sight must be intact if she can discern the decimated piles of rubble that were once buildings. Nana flexes her aching body, in its entirety a raw nerve, and finds to her relief that she isn’t missing a single limb.

The gray sky flickers blue, a picture-perfect blue, the kind Nana loves to patrol in with Sorahiko. Although she had felt the gritty texture of crumbling asphalt and dust before, now it is a soft blanket, slightly warmed and snuggle-able.

Are her lungs breathing clean air? Nana reflexively inhales deep, and is stunned to not feel pain.

She sits up. One for All must have kicked into overdrive, even as dregs, because Nana no longer feels like she’s been scoured by sandpaper. Moreover, she’s wearing a long sundress and sandals. First she looks left, and then she looks right, just in time to see Sorahiko out of his gear, a wry smile on his face.

He is sprawled out on his stomach. He looks carefree and happy in a way that Nana has not seen in a very long time.

“You’re such a cat,” he teases. “Asleep at the first ray of sunshine.”

“It’s a nice day,” she automatically says, and does a double-take.

Because next to Sorahiko is a picnic basket, and that means they are on a picnic blanket, having a pleasant picnic in a meadow Nana knows they trained Toshinori at. And there is no Toshinori.

Sorahiko reaches out. She takes his ungloved hand in hers, and is startled to find a plain gold band on his left ring finger. For one thing, Sorahiko doesn’t wear gold because it’s a soft metal and he likes to throw punches with the best of pro-heroes. For another thing--there is no way Sorahiko is married.

Mean, perhaps, to disbelieve the idea that Sorahiko had agreed to tie the knot to anyone, but Nana has been partnered with Sorahiko for the past decade. Sorahiko barely dates. His idea of a good time is a piping hot pastry in one hand, a mug of sweetened coffee in the other, and a light breeze while he sits at his balcony and reads.

“I’m glad you found time to take a day-off,” he says, earnest. “You deserve it. You deserve this.”

“I do?”

Her vision grays out for a second, pain rushing in, and Nana is disoriented by the fact that she is flat on her back again. But her hand is being held, and Gran Torino kneels beside her, murmuring prayers into their entangled fingers.

They had been fighting a villain. A wily one, with a penchant of leaving victims comatose for varying periods of time. The victims had woken up, eventually, but they could report nothing but their joy at returning to ‘reality.’

Tied to All for One, which would explain the firepower behind the villain’s support. It also provided her and Sorahiko a reason to chase the villain.

Toshinori had stayed at the agency. He had a test in the morning, and despite Toshinori’s belief in his luck with multiple-choice questions, Sorahiko had threatened to revamp the test and increase the difficulty if Toshinori did - not - stay - put. 

“Hey,” she tries to say, but the greeting leaves her parched throat in a raspy exhale.

“Squeeze my hand if you can hear me,” Sorahiko begs. “Stay with me. Shimura, please, not now, fight the Quirk.”

Ah, right. The smart thing to do would have been to leave the majority of the fight to Gran Torino; the villain required skin contact to use his Quirk, and Nana is the one who opted to forgo sleeves. Nana is the one who prefers to grapple her opponents, sometimes spiraling them up into the air and corkscrewing back down to really send a point home.

Nana had gotten slapped with the Quirk.

She tries to squeeze his hand, but the environment flickers into green and blue and the open adoration and affection in Sorahiko’s pale brown eyes.

Her mouth dries, and something locks, settles into place, because Nana knows that this is enough to ensnare her. Deep down, she is selfish enough to be intrigued by Sorahiko indulging in this kind of shameless behavior. Deeper still, Nana remembers her responsibility.

Just a little longer, she reassures herself. I just want to see what the fuss is about.

“Yes,” says Sorahiko. “You’ve put so much of your time into teaching ungrateful teenagers, you’re beginning to forget that you’re going to have an ungrateful teenager in your own home.”

“Who’s ungrateful?”

Before he answers, there is a light thump of sneakers pounding at dirt and grass. Nana turns her head and feels a steel cord fastening her tighter to this hallucination. Kotarou, age five, scrambles up to the edge of the picnic blanket.

“Tou-san, don’t be mean!” her son lisps, and he trips, falls into Sorahiko’s arms as her partner surges to catch him.

“Careful!”

“Kotarou, don’t run,” Nana hears herself chide. It sounds natural. Like she’s been saying it constantly, and not like she hasn’t had to say it for the past year, having severed this connection on a cold winter’s day. 

Alright. If Kotarou is here, if Kotarou is referring to Sorahiko as his dad, then what follows?

Nana flexes her hands, wondering at the lack of calluses. Her hands don’t feel like her hands, and Sorahiko’s certainly don’t feel like his. Yet they still fit the same way, fingers interlocking like an overdue homecoming.

Her body does not feel the same. A lack of hard musculature, she diagnoses, and she finally dares to extend her arms in a stretch.

Looping her left ring finger is a plain gold band, a mirror of Sorahiko’s. Nana hadn’t even wore gold for her late husband; a fact that her husband accepted, since the reality was that Sorahiko wasn’t the only one relishing the capability to punch villains square in the face.

Sorahiko and Kotarou’s bickering registers as white noise. It’s clear that Sorahiko is just playfully bantering with her--with their--son, even if Kotarou treats the argument like a war. 

“Sorahiko,” she says.

He pats Kotarou’s nose, telling him in a patient manner, “Time-out,” and then Sorahiko meets her eyes. His expression turns concerned. Now that’s a familiar frown. “Nana?”

“I…” Nana hesitates. It’s a nice day, isn’t it? Her son is sandwiched between her and her partner, even if he’s been slotted into a role as her fake husband, and they’re out for a nice picnic in a meadow.

What right does she have to ruin this memory, false as it is?

She can end this when they’ve returned home. Wherever home is. All Nana has to do is not trick herself into believing that Sorahiko really did marry her.

She smiles at him, a toothy grin that says, ‘There is nothing to fear! Why? Because I am here, with you, my beloved, and our family!’ (That’s wrong; where is Toshinori? Perhaps he is stuck in school, and Kotarou is still too young to attend. That must be it.)

“I can’t remember if I put on sunblock,” she jokes, wiggling her eyebrows.

He smiles back. “Give me a moment to feed the gremlin, and I’ll put it on myself.”

[utterlyinevitable]

Can you do a headcanon for Ethan and mc breaking up

after writing this i realize it seems excessive and that ethan and becca are so toxic for the amount of times they’ve broken up (well she’s broken up with him). i hc that after the memorial, ethan will let her set the pace and he will never ever let her go again. so that’s why becca’s doing the majority of the severing. she’s scared he’s going to pull away at a given moment, and all the things he’s previously said about a domestic, nuclear life start to haunt her. she loves ethan but she also doesn’t want to change him just to get her way. 

Ethan x Becca Breaking Up 

The First (Unofficial) Time 

The first time Ethan and Becca broke up was when they seemingly just started. 

And, no. It wasn’t when he disappeared to the Amazon. According to Ethan, they “both knew what this was” and that they couldn’t be together because of work - it was imperative. He crushed any notion of them being further entangled before his Great Sabbatical. 

As much as Becca wanted to believe him - as much as she wanted to file him in the back of her mind as a one night stand, she just couldn’t. She’d fallen hard for him and every moment they spent together meant something. 

She was heartbroken when he left without a trace. 

The First (Recognized) Time

They broke up for real only a few months after the Hopeful Hearts Gala and a short time before Valentine’s Day. 

Becca was convinced he didn’t see them together long term and decided to cut her losses. 

They were at his condo eating takeout on his couch when she broached the subject of applying to transfer her residency to other hospitals. 

“Don’t base your decisions on me. Your career is more important.”  “I based all my decisions on you. I’m only a doctor and at Edenbrook because of you.”  “I’m not going to make the decision for you, Rebecca.”  “I don’t want you to! I want to know where we’re at.”  “We’re dating, I thought that was obvious.”  “Will we keep dating if I’m on the other side of the country? Are we gonna do long distance? Are you gonna follow me?” “My life is here. My Dad is here.”

She retorted that her family is on the east coast too, and that she understands he wants to be close to his father. 

They bickered back and forth. 

“What’re we doing Ethan?” she asked exasperated. 

It hung in cold silence. 

Ethan just looked at her. 

Eventually he spoke; “What do you want from me?” “I want…” She looked at him. 

Really looked at the man sitting before her and the way his arms were folded across his chest. The way his blue eyes were a darker shade. The way he felt cold sitting there across from her. 

So she made the decision for them; “Never mind,” she shook her head as she stood.   “Where are you going?”  She threw the overnight bag she’d packed earlier to keep at his over her shoulder, “Home.”  Ethan stood, reaching out for her but she was just a bit too far away; “Don’t -”  Turning her back on him she simply shrugged, “I need to finish my applications.” 

That was the last time she was in his apartment for months to come. 

He sent a gift to her apartment for Valentine’s Day. She sent a simple “thank you” text the next day.  

They were estranged and she ignored him for a few weeks.    

The Second Time 

Was a mix of personal and work-related factors, months after Bloom took control of Edenbrook. 

Dr. Mendoza was a new addition to the diagnostics team, transferring from Mass Kenmore. He was a vile stickler. 

While most people knew of Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Lao’s history, it was kept under wraps. They were two of the brightest doctor’s and they managed to keep a very fine balance between their working relationship and their private one. 

Mendoza saw Becca as a challenge. He fell to the belief that she slept her way into her job and used her wiles to get Bloom to buyout the hospital. He figured he’d try her on for size. 

Mendoza was honing in on Becca. She was uncomfortable and tried to brush it off. But she couldn’t... one day he stepped over a line. 

Ethan was pissed - he was going to kill Mendoza. He was going to fire him and punch him in the face. But Becca wouldn’t let him. 

After talking him down they agreed she would bring the sexual harassment case to HR. 

Oh how that backfired. 

HR researched Mendoza and Ethan’s conduct regarding Becca. Mendoza brought Ethan down with him. 

Ethan and Becca fought about claims and outcomes and he said some things he didn’t mean. Some things along the lines of: “I knew this was going to happen. This is the exact thing I was protecting you from. Every reason why we shouldn’t be together just came to fruition.”  

The couple had to take some time apart while claims were investigated but they weren’t broken up.

Ethan was cleared and Mendoza got a slap on the wrist. 

But that wasn’t the biggest obstacle they faced that year. 

Even after the case was dismissed by HR the breakup still happened.

Becca was closing in on her final year of residency and weighing all her offers. 

Just like the year before, Ethan wouldn’t acknowledge that she could end up anywhere else. He didn’t want to influence her decision or her career more than he already has. 

And if she asked, of course he would give her a permanent position on the team. 

But he had no idea what was going on in that brilliantly befuddled mind of hers. 

She was going mad at his lack of commitments. At his lack of “I love you’s” and promises of a future. 

Ethan and Becca had been doing this dance for nearly three years and he still hadn’t said it. And Rebecca Lao refused to say it first.  

So she broke up with him, right before he planned to ask her to move in. 

The break up only lasted a day. They made up in his office and she moved in shortly after. 

The Next Time (based on Stuck)

Becca still didn’t really believe Ethan could commit to her in all the ways she wanted. She didn’t believe he could give her the family and life she always craved. 

They had a fight. 

She used her fall back to run away. 

And when she came back to the apartment to pack up her things she saw Ethan sitting on the sofa, waiting for her. 

She didn’t expect to see him home this early in the afternoon. 

They exchanged awkward words and she fled to the bedroom to quickly pack up her things. 

Ethan followed. 

He stood in the doorway and begged not to fight anymore. He begged her to stay. 

She yelled, she said all that she was afraid of. All that she knew he wasn’t in the business of giving. 

She tried to leave.

But he caught her at the door. 

He bent to her level and begged her one more time. Told her he wanted everything with her. 

Ethan held her, kissed her exposed skin and rooted them both to their apartment, carried her back to their bed. 

The Last Time 

Planning a wedding was expensive. 

Weddings also came with so many expectations. Never would Ethan have expected that he and Becca would fall victim to crowd pleasing. 

It was all too much for him. 

And one day Ethan snapped. 

She was sitting at the dining table with their two wedding planners and binder rattling off a bunch of things that need to be done and chosen when he snapped; “I can’t do this, Rebecca. It’s too much.” “Can’t do what?” she half-asked, attention on what she was writing and not the terror in his tone. “This. All of it.” 

The conversation escalated from there. 

“Well if you didn’t want a wedding, why’d you even ask?”  “I want you, not all this shit.”  “This is part of it! You can’t keep running away when things get hard, Ethan!” 

He was red with rage. 

He wasn’t the one that kept on leaving once they started actually dating. So he made some digs about all the times she’s left him because she was scared. And that now he’s given her everything and why can’t she just listen and see things from his side. 

He needed a breather so he left. 

Becca threw the books, scattering them around the kitchen before the sobs took over. 

40-minutes later Ethan returned home. He found his fiancée curled atop the covers of their bed, her back to him.

They said nothing.  

He moved wordlessly to the back of the storage closet. 

Then a flash of pink fell at her feet. 

Ethan threw a duffle bag at her;  “Pack a bag.”  “What -” 

She sat up and skeptically watched him as he packed. 

First into the bag was his tux followed by enough clothes for two days. 

When he was done haphazardly throwing essential items in his bag, he looked over to where she hadn’t moved with arms folded across her chest.

“Hurry up,” he commanded. “We need to get to New York by 1pm if we plan on getting married tomorrow.” 

Becca’s jaw dropped. She was stunned. 

Yet she was glowing. 

And the shit-eating, megawatt smile on his face was infectious.  

________________________________________

Masterlist

Perma:

@rookiemarsswiftie @lucy-268 8 @binny1985 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @adrex04 @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @theeccentricbibliophile @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @kaavyaethanramsey @mvalentine @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @lifeaskim @otherworldlypresents ts @therookie @aylaramseycarrera @angela8754 @fireycookie @stateofgracious

Ethan:

@udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @hutchereverlark23 @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @claredal424 @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @openheartthot @senseofduties @lilyvalentine @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart @casey-v @ramseyandrys @peaceinmidstofchaos

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: 12 Grimmauld Place Setting

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

�� Colliding By Design by Asterie Rated:  Explicit Words:  21491 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Interior Decorating, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Witch Weekly, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Auror Harry Potter, Interior Designer Draco Malfoy, Hipster Wizarding London Summary:  Draco Malfoy has used his time under house arrest to launch a promising career in interior design, and Harry Potter has inherited a magical house in desperate need of renovation. It’s an age-old story, brought to you with a little “help” from Witch Weekly Magazine. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Only Ash Remains by Saulaie, shilo1364 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  66870 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Depression, Disability, invisible disibilities, Healing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Family, Malfoy Family Feels, POV Harry Potter, Community: harrydracobang, Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018 Summary:  One year after Harry defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts, he still has no idea what to do with his life. He’s been living at No. 12 Grimmauld Place with Hermione and Ron, but they’ve spent the past few months on an extended stay in Australia to try and restore Hermione’s parents’ memories. Alone, he feels set adrift. Everyone else is focused on enjoying their summer before Hogwarts reopens (after a one year rebuilding period), but without Ron and Hermione, Harry doesn’t know if he can go back. Everything changes when the Malfoys dramatically re-enter his life, and together they learn to live again. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 keep it down by warmfoothills Rated:  Explicit Words:  13657 Tags: Living Together, Housemates, omg they were roommates etc, Grimmauld Place, switching POVs, between the boys and ginny also gets a couple of interludes because we love her!, backyard quidditch, Yoga, Masturbation, references to draco/others, including blaise, not so accidental aural voyeurism, not so accidental aural exhbitionism, Clothes Stealing, shampoo borrowing, wall sharing, rugby and denial (harry), snobbery and slobbery regarding food (draco), Massage, a long hot summer, bit of breathplay, one small linny reference, it’s porn but i make you read 10k of faffing about first, an EXCESSIVE amount of parentheses, harry’s an idiot, draco’s only slightly less of an idiot Summary:  Malfoy’s an inconsiderately loud roommate and Harry’s over it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 almost heaven by M0stlyVoid Rated:  Explicit Words:  12432 Tags: Sentient Magical House, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Manor, House magic, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Sex Magic, Rituals, Happy Birthday Tacky!!, Minor Character Death Summary:  Draco’s father dies. Harry’s house has a tantrum. When it turns out the two are related, Harry has to decide how far he’s willing to go to set his home to rights. And when Malfoy ends up looking like that, Harry finds he’s willing to go a lot farther than he ever thought he would. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 I could be wrong, I could be ready by harryromper Rated:  Mature Words:  57343 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, POV Alternating, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Romance, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, wizarding houses, House magic, Magic, Families of Choice, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter), Magical Theory, Brooklyn, Roller Coasters, Socks, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Professor Neville Longbottom, Curse Breaker Bill Weasley, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Godric's Hollow, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place, H/D Erised 2018, Community: hd_erised, Lovers to Friends Summary:  At first Harry wonders if they’ve managed to destroy his vaults and are trying to tell him in the most oblique way possible. But when he turns the page he realises they’ve found a vault. A vault in the name of Lily and James Potter. The parchment trembles a little in Harry’s hand. He takes another gulp of wine. Harry Potter left Britain after the war and didn’t look back. Ten years later, when Gringotts discovers a vault containing his parents’ belongings—including their badly spell-damaged wedding rings—he’s forced to face up to friends and family who’ve grown in ways he could never imagine, a wizarding London rebuilt beyond his expectations, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s the entirely unforeseen problem of Draco Malfoy. Featuring pureblood wizarding traditions, ancestral magic, open mic nights, marriage equality, a diner in Brooklyn, and the return of Fleamont Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Modern Love by tackytiger Rated:  Explicit Words:  61322 Tags: Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Slow Burn, Oblivious Harry Potter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, idiots to lovers, Politics, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Songfic, Friendship, Found Family, Mentions of Cancer, References to Illness, Chemotherapy, references to canonical child abuse, references to canonical deaths, References to Depression, Drunkenness, Sad Harry Potter, Church Services, Hymns, Atheism, Kissing in Church, Religious Discussion, Light Angst, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Minor Injuries, Blood and Injury, Gay vicar, Original Character(s), Original Character Illness, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Scars, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Minor Draco Malfoy/ Sexy Tall Vicar, Draco Kisses Someone Briefly That's All I Promise, Magic/Muggle Relations, Jealousy, Family Drama Summary:  Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is. And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t? Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years. And that’s what starts it all. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 In Every Universe by skeptique Rated:  Mature Words:  27179 Tags: Dubious Consent, More Detailed Warning in End Notes, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Several Dracos Malfoy, depiction of mental health issues, Depiction of Anxiety Attacks, Brief Mentions of Drowning (in a dream), Mystery, Multiverse, Parallel Universe, Canon Content Warnings Apply, Moral and Ethical Quandaries Abound, Implied Drug Use, alcohol use, Smoking, Biracial Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, Minor Character Death, A Very Light Sprinkling of Smut Summary:  They sent Professor Harry Potter to search for Unspeakable Draco Malfoy. Draco has stolen a Firebird, an experimental magical device from the Department of Mysteries that lets you enter parallel universes as yourself. As Harry traverses from universe to universe, he begins to think Draco might be the one searching for him. A story about whether knowing what's possible makes it possible. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Haunt the corner of my eye by harryromper Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  23358 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Mystery And Angst With A Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Student Draco Malfoy, Healer Luna Lovegood, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Number Twelve Grimmauld Place Summary:  Harry’s life is very much on track. After a successful career as an Auror, he’s set to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic. But strange things are starting to happen at Grimmauld Place. Items he doesn’t recognise are appearing left and right, and somehow he never feels quite alone. There’s only one thing Harry knows for sure: it has something to do with Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Portrait of a Marriage by glitteringvoid Rated:  Mature Words:  130626 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Proposal, Domestic Fluff, Developing Relationship, Relationship Discussions, Enemies to Friends to Something More, Lack of Communication, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Consent Issues, Internalized Acephobia, Ferrets, Bickering, Asexual Draco Malfoy, Touch-Averse Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Can't Cook, Slow Burn Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Minor Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Dubious Consent Summary:  Harry didn't want to marry Malfoy, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and Malfoy looked so smug and well - now they are married, and the house still doesn't like him, and Malfoy only looks more smug. Draco didn't want to marry Potter, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and he never seems to be capable of escaping Potter anyway, so if he is already doomed to being married off he might as well decide for himself what he is worth, sign the papers and ignore everything wrong with that plan until physically no longer possible. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Litany by thistle_verse Rated:  Mature Words:  7170 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Pandemics, Quarantine, Isolation, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Wizard's Chess (Harry Potter), Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Touch-Starved, Drinking, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Ghosts, Guilt, Lists, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  With the wizarding world on lockdown due to a magic-draining pandemic, Harry is stuck in Grimmauld Place, bored and alone—until the ghost of Draco Malfoy shows up to haunt him. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Cleaning Up The Mess by Samunderthelights Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  3469 Tags: Drarropoly: Founders Edition - A Drarry Game/Fest, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, 12 Grimmauld Place Summary:  Harry has been hiding away at 12 Grimmauld Place, trying his best to clean up the place. He has fallen into a quiet and boring routine. But when Draco shows up at his door one day, asking for his wand back, that quiet and boring routine of his is about to be broken. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Grimmauld Christmas Curse by crimsonheadache, inspired_being, kitty_collab (kitty_fic), Ladderofyears, Vaysh Rated:  General Words:  2323 Tags: Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Christmas Tree, Christmas Decorations, Aunt Walburga (portrait), Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Meme Insert Summary:  "I'm telling you, Hermione, the house is out to get me." Harry poured two cups of tea and passed one across the kitchen table. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry, it is not out to get you." Or is it? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Distractions by pottergerms Rated:  Explicit Words:  2239 Tags: Grimmauld Place Summary:  Kingsley was not his friend. He was not a paperboy. And Harry Potter was definitely not the hottest thing alive. ❤️ Read on AO3

[shijiujun]

I saw your "Send me a ship and number" post last night and thought, nahhh, can't be, I was sure you had posted wanting to take a break from writing after 2 more Chuyao prompts, days ago. And then I wake up this morning to your "I'll write them kiss prompts" and I literally turned into my avatar! So, if I'm not too late, may I request Chuyao fics (as I love how you write them) for 43 (LY *is* greedy) and 37 (because QCS). Thanks so much! xxx

[37] Without a Motive [43] Out of Greed

They’ve been together for several years now, and by all definitions are an old, married couple. At the very least, they definitely do bicker like they’ve been married to each other for decades.

“Lu San Tu! Did you break into the liquor cabinet again? I thought I told you that you can’t have any more alcohol without supervision after what the doctor said?”

“Aiya~ Lao Qiao, it was... it was only two glasses, I promise-”

“You! San Tu, if you continue to do this, I’m going to remove all the alcohol in the house, do you believe me?”

“I already said I’m sorry! I made beef in the afternoon for lunch and I really felt like having it! Why’re you yelling at me? You must not love me anymore. Did you go to Chang San Tang?”

“...”

They argue a lot more, but they never go to bed angry with each other, and that’s what counts. Lu Yao either whines his apologies or sticks as close as he can to Chusheng until a smile appears on his boyfriend’s face, or Chusheng simply buys and coaxes his way into forgiveness. When everything fails, Chusheng always gets his way in bed at the end of the day anyway.

The sweet moments don’t seem to decrease, however, and Lu Yao still continues to marvel at the way Chusheng surprises him with little dates and gifts, and even holidays to Paris and London twice in the past few years. Given how busy they are at the station, it’s a miracle that Chusheng managed to take  6 weeks off each time just to indulge in Lu Yao’s whims. 

Lu Yao proves to Chusheng that he loves him, every single day without fail. He’s not the kind to go for grand gestures - he leaves that to Chusheng - but Lu Yao knows how much a home of his own and someone that puts Chusheng in first place, means to him. 

So Lu Yao always makes sure there is lunch or dinner waiting for Chusheng whenever he returns home or to the office, if work hours run late. Even if Lu Yao isn’t on a case, he still turns up at the station and waits for Chusheng to get off work. While he’s not a morning person, Lu Yao never fails to send Chusheng off to work with a sleepy kiss, if he’s not dragged out of bed for a case together with Chusheng, that is. 

And when Chusheng has a bad day and ends up at Bai Le Men’s private bar on the third floor for a drink alone, Lu Yao is already sitting there, two whiskey glasses ready on the counter in front of him.

This life that they have together, Lu Yao and Chusheng are doing their best to keep.

===

They must be getting old, because Lu Yao finds himself craving the little things more and more these days. Sure, he’s still happy when Chusheng brings little trinkets home or hands him his wallet and tells him to go wild with whatever he wants to buy, but there’s something about finding happiness even in the smallest of things.

The way Chusheng helps him to put on his socks before they go to sleep each night because Lu Yao is afraid of the cold in winter, or when he allows Lu Yao to lie down on him with his head on Chusheng’s laps while the man reads the papers in the morning, one hand playing at Lu Yao’s messy bed hair. 

The touches that happen without a single thought, born out of habit and time.

If Chusheng used to kiss him to flirt, get him all riled up and persuade him into a sleepless night in bed, then a lot of the kisses that happen these days just... happen. 

A peck to his forehead when Chusheng returns home. A press of his lips to Lu Yao’s cheek and a fond, indulgent smile when Lu Yao joins him at a crime scene late. A caress to the side of Lu Yao’s face and a kiss to his nose when he’s whining about breakfast while Chusheng is perusing some documents, his boyfriend not even bothering to look at him as he says, “Behave, San Tu.”

He loves it all, of course. They’ve gotten so used to being with each other that every loving gesture is now as necessary as air is for survival. There’s no need to frequently touch with conscious intent.

Chusheng returns early in the afternoon the next day and finds Lu Yao lounging on the couch in his pyjamas, an English song crooning from the gramophone placed in the corner of this living room at a soft volume. 

“You’re home early,” Lu Yao says, sitting up.

“Mnn, decided to take the afternoon off. I haven’t been home much this week helping lao ye-zi to settle some misplaced shipments,” Chusheng answers with a tired smile.

And as he passes Lu Yao, heading in the direction of the bedroom, Chusheng bends down swiftly and gives Lu Yao a chaste, absent-minded kiss on the lips, before continuing on his way.

Pressing his fingers to his lips, Lu Yao sits there for a moment, quietly happy at the touch. Today, however, he wants just a little more. His boyfriend is such a fine, considerate, handsome and fit young (middle-aged now) man. How can Lu Yao resist?

He’s going to regret tempting Chusheng later, but for now, Lu Yao sneaks into the bathroom quietly, stripping along the way.

His boyfriend startles when another person squeezes his way into the shower right next to him, and before Chusheng can react, Lu Yao has him pressed against the wall, skin pressed against skin as he dives in for Chusheng’s lips.

Kissing him once, twice, thrice- sliding his mouth hotly against Chusheng’s, Lu Yao is unable to get enough of him today. He doesn’t give Chusheng the opportunity to talk, taking the initiative for once.

He wants- needs Chusheng. Right now, and for all the days they’ll spend together.

===

Lu Yao does regret it later, because when Qiao Chusheng gets serious, no matter how many times Lu Yao begs him to go easy on him, to let him rest, Chusheng only says, “Who’s the one who started this earlier? You should take responsibility, Yao Yao.”

They wake up way after dinner, and as Lu Yao scolds Chusheng for being a barbarian, Chusheng laughs and agrees to cook supper for them both.

Just for that, Lu Yao supposes he’ll forgive him.

--

From this list of kiss prompts!

[misslittykitty]

I Don’t Need A Hero

Titel: I Don’t Need A Hero

Characters: Steve, Y/N, OC Gabe (no pairing)

Prompt: “I’m not a damsel in distress, I’m a damsel doing damage.” (bolded in story)

Warning: 1st person reader, nothing else

Word count: 2,255 word

A/N: This was written for Kaytees1000FollowerChallenge.- Dear @kayteewritessteve​ I am so, so sorry this took me ages to write. I had more than half of it already written but then with everything corona going on and my mental health taking a turn for the worse during summer, I couldn’t bring myself to write at all. But now, finally, I found a good ending and was able to finish. I hope that you like it even though it’s way, way too late. Big hugs to you.

----

I Don’t Need A Hero

Steve let the pen fall out of his hand and, with a sigh, stretched his arms high over his head. Looking up at the clock, he realized with surprise that it was already 9.15 p.m. and therefore after closing time. His gaze went back to the paperwork on his desk which had held his complete attention for the past hour.

Deciding that he was done for the day, Steve got up. He arched his back to stretch out the muscles while turning to the offices’ windowfront to overlook the training area.

He counted four of his regulars still finishing up their workout or collecting their bags to head out and one of his instructors, Gabe, cleaning and stowing away equipment. The boxing ring which had been occupied by Bucky and Sam last time he’d checked, was now empty

A movement at the back of the training area caught his attention and he focused on the person at one of the punching bags. It only took him a few seconds to know he’d never seen her before.

His lips formed into a crooked smile as he watched her punch and pummel the bag with a lot of determination but not much else. Wondering why none of his staff had at least instructed her with the bare minimum, he headed for the office door and down the stairs.

His intention of directly approaching the woman was diverted when he passed Gabe at one of the equipment racks.

“Bucky and Sam already left?” he asked unable to hide his grin. Gabe returned it while shaking his head.

“Yeah, and both were still alive when they did. And bickering like an old married couple”, Gabe replied while he continued to wipe down one of the benches. “I’m really, truly amazed they’ve not yet seriously injured one another.”

“Nah, they won’t. Deep down, they like each other”, Steve said with a smirk, “at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

Gabe threw his head back laughing before he went on to pick up several skipping ropes. Those too received a thorough wipe-down.

“By the way, what’s the deal with the woman back there?” Steve wanted to know and motioned with one hand to the back of the gym. Gabe hung up the ropes he was holding and closed the locker before he shrugged.

“Oh man, she walked in a couple minutes past nine, slammed fifty bucks on the counter and asked to just punch something for a few minutes”, he explained, holding up his hands in a ‘Don’t ask me’ kind of gesture.

“And you just let her?”

“Sorry, Steve, really but I was already in my close-up routine and got no time to argue. It’s fifty bucks for our coffee fund, man. I didn’t think it would hurt anyone,” Gabe replied and shrugged again.

“Yeah well, not anyone but her.” Steve rolled his eyes at Gabe and continued his way. He’d just noticed that a) she was wearing a white and blue striped blouse, a black skirt reaching to her knees and high-heeled strappy pumps  - in short, clothes entirely not suited for this kind of workout - and, even worse, b) no hand protection whatsoever. If she hadn’t already severely bruised her knuckles, she would in the next few minutes with the way she was going at it.

Approaching her cautiously from the side to not startle her overly much, he came to a stop right next to the punching bag.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

------

I had no idea how I’d ended up in this place. All I knew was that I’d desperately wanted to get away from my apartment. And on my mad dash, anger started to boil up inside me, growing quickly and evolving into the urgent need to hit something, anything. Hard.

A gym sign had registered even in my agitated state of mind and I’d simply walked in, put some cash on the counter and asked for a punching bag.

After that, everything else had faded away. Almost all thoughts had fled my mind, leaving me with the image of him projected onto the punching bag and I’d gone to town. Swinging my fists to punch and pummel his face wearing that unbelievably gentle, stupid ass smile – the last thing I’d seen before running from the apartment with tears blurring my vision.

I still couldn’t believe how everything had gone downhill. We’d been so happy once, not too long ago even. Where had we taken the wrong turn? And why? But I was tired, so very tired of thinking these thoughts, these never-ending questions which had been going round and round in my head for the past hour.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

The voice startled me momentarily and delayed my next punch by a millisecond. But I kept going, letting my fists connect with the bag again and again while mumbling out, “I’m fine.”

“It’s just that…you forgot to use gloves and didn’t even wrap your hands.”

“It’s fine, I don’t need it”, I replied curtly, concentrating on the target in front of me and simply continuing to hit the bag with as much force as I could muster. Which sadly wasn’t a lot.

“I could show you how it’s done”, he said, an upbeat tone to his voice.

Heaving a deep sigh, I stopped my actions and turned toward the intruder. The second I laid eyes on him, recognition set in causing a slight shiver (probably of nerves) to run down my back and my eyes to widen for a moment.

Then I sighed again and said, ”Listen, thanks for the offer but I don’t need a hero. I’m not a damsel in distress, I…I’m a damsel doing damage, okay?”

It was his turn to widen his eyes before he had the audacity to smirk and shrug. Putting one hand on his hip, he lifted the other to gesture at nothing while saying, “Sure, go ahead, damage away. But the way I see it, going on like you have, the only thing you’ll really damage is yourself.”

I stared at him, lost for words, lost for even the tiniest reaction to what he said. Inside my head, his words reverberated around and around, creating an echo but instead of fading away it increased in volume, screaming, and screaming the words “The only thing you’ll really damage is yourself”.

And I promptly burst into tears. The anger, the rage which had held me up and had kept me going vanished and I felt myself deflate. My sight blurred by tears, I made a grab for something to hold, to keep myself upright and found a forearm – an extraordinarily strong forearm – being offered.

By touch alone – because I couldn’t see anything through this onslaught of saltwater pouring from my eyes – I managed to find his upper arm and eventually his shoulder to cry on. Which I did for an unknown amount of time.

-----

When I’d somewhat calmed down, I noticed that he’d walked me over to one of the benches and had sat down with me there.

His shirt bore the real signs of my outburst, wet tearstains all along his right shoulder. Heat rose up my neck and I averted my gaze while embarrassedly wiping at the lingering moisture on my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a sniffle. “And…well, thank you, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, withdrawing his arm from around me now that he knew I had calmed down. “Uhm…what brings you here, anyway? Haven’t seen you around before.”

His question made me snort so hard, snot threatened to burst from my nostrils. Blushing even more, I put up my left hand to try and stop the flow.

Meanwhile, the man…okay, let’s be honest here: I knew who he was, I had recognized him right away…. So, meanwhile, Steve Rogers aka Captain America chuckled and got to his feet to collect some paper towels which he then handed to me.

Mumbling a soft thank you, I blew my nose and, while I was at it, dried the last spots of tear residue from my cheeks.

“Who thought to make crying so messy, hu?” I said, more as a statement than a question and Steve chuckled again.

“Probably the same asshole who invented nosebleeds and asthma”, he replied to my surprise and I burst out laughing.

“Sounds about right,” I said but felt the grin fading from my lips as his earlier question still hung unanswered in the air between us. I sighed, hoping for the right words to miraculously fall from up high directly onto my tongue but I ended up blurting out,” My marriage fell apart about an hour ago and I was so angry, so frustrated…and I came across this gym and needed to…just hit something.”

“Oh”, he said, sounding genuinely surprised and when I met his gaze, his eyes held a mixture of embarrassment, pity, and compassion. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I”, I agreed, felt my shoulders sag again and looked away. For several minutes no on spoke, the only sounds those of the few clients and staff, clattering, footsteps, and in the distance, a shower running.

My eyes studied the floor, not daring to look up, straying only as far as to where his shoes met the linoleum.

“How…how long….” He trailed off just as quickly as he’d started to speak. I heard him clear his throat and lifted my gaze just in time to see him rubbing the back of his neck. He’d probably realized his question might come off insensitive.

I laughed without any real humor behind it and sighed, opting to just answer him anyway,” 7 years, the darned seventh-year itch. How cliché is that?”

“I can go and beat some sense into your husband,” Steve offered, signaling with a wink that he was joking, and I laughed, really laughed this time.

“Oh god, no. It’s not…well, he didn’t cheat on me or anything. It’s…we fell apart. Somewhere in the past year we’ve started to drift away from each other.”

I shrugged my shoulders, my lips forming a half smile before I continued, “And…well, I guess I’m just frustrated because I wasn’t really surprised. I mean when he brought up during dinner today that he wanted to separate…it should’ve come as a surprise. But it didn’t. It didn’t. And that’s when I knew.”

“What did you know?” he asked, and my gaze met his once again.

I shrugged again, my smile turning even more lopsided before I heaved a deep sigh. “That there is nothing for me to do but to accept that my marriage is truly over.”

My voice had taken on a slight tremble, tears once more started to burn behind my eyes. But I bit my lower lip, averted my gaze from his and tried to blink them away.

“Oh”, Steve said and added, “I’m truly sorry.”

For lack of a better response, I graced him with another of my grimaced smiles which he mirrored.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, just remember my offer stands.”

“Which one?” I inquired and upon the confused look on his face, I elaborated, ”Your offer of showing me how to box or to beat up my husband?”

Was it my imagination or did a slight blush creep across his cheeks when he chuckled and said, “Both, I guess?”

My smiled widened. “Thank you, Mr. Rogers. I really appreciate it.”

“Steve. Please call me Steve”, he corrected and held out his hand. “And you are?”

“I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”, I told him and took his hind to shake. Yet, the moment his hand closed around mine, I winced, let out a hiss and yelped “Ouch!”

Steve quickly took my hand into both of his and lifted it up. A small crease appeared on his forehead while he inspected my knuckles and when he met my gaze a few seconds later, the ‘I told you so’ was written all over his features.

“Don’t”, I warned him and shook my head. “Don’t you dare say, what you want to say. I know, okay?”

“How can you possibly know what I wanted to say?”

“Oh please”, you groaned, “your expression was screaming it very, very clearly.”

“Alright, fine”, he laughed, shaking his head. “I won’t say it, but I would recommend an icepack and maybe some arnica gel overnight.”

“Okay, advice taken”, I giggled and gently pulled my hand from between his. “And, well, thank you. For…”

I trailed off, saw his smile from out of the corner of my eyes.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Anytime.”

“I should get going. So….” I said and motioned toward the exit.

“Yeah, okay. Have…well, despite everything have a good night then.”

We smiled at each other once again before I turned and walked toward the door. When there were only a few steps left to reach the front desk, I turned back around and called out, “Hey, Steve? Turns out that I did need a hero after all!”

The last thing I saw was him throwing back his head laughing and if that didn’t lift my spirits, nothing would.

Yeah, may words rang true. Maybe it had been fate that I’d chosen this particular gym. Maybe I had really needed a hero tonight.

[musetta3]

17 from the prompt list! :D

Hi, @shadowcrow! Thank you for the ask! I’ve answered for my Warden, Valena Cousland, and Alistair. Hope you enjoy. :) 

Valena rubbed the bridge of her nose and groaned. The Landsmeet had been dragging on for several days now, with no end in sight. Endless bickering, petty squabbles—they gave her a headache. She leaned against her longsword to catch her breath, exhausted and sweaty, while the others argued over who would succeed the throne.

“I am the best choice,” Anora said. She looked terrifying, still wearing her blood-stained gown. Stained with her father’s blood, Valena noted. She shuddered.

“I’ve ruled Ferelden in all but name for the past five years; it’s clear who the Landsmeet should choose.” Valena rolled her eyes; if she heard about this one more time.

“You are the Dowager Queen,” she said, voice sharp and clear, “you have no claim to the throne. You have neither royal blood nor royal issue; there’s nothing for you here.”

She scoffed. “I am noble by birth; I have every right as any of you here—”

“And yet by law, your position as Dowager Queen negates it. What a pity.” All those hours with her tutors as a girl, bored out of her mind during lessons, had finally paid off. Valena crossed her arms across her cuirass, triumphant. “Alistair has claim through blood; he’s the last of the Theirin line—”

“You think I’d leave Ferelden to that bastard? He knows nothing of kingship.”

Valena smirked. “Kings are made, Lady MacTir,” she took particular pleasure in that jab, “and I have every intention of making Alistair into the greatest king he can be.” She turned to the Landsmeet council. “I have decided: Alistair shall take the throne, and I’ll rule beside him.” She caught her beloved’s attention as she crossed the throne room to him; his wide-eyed gaze was quite amusing.

“This is usually the point when I wake up,” he whispered to her, “except I’m usually in my underclothes and everyone’s laughing.” She scoffed a laugh.

“I usually find myself bald or toothless in that kind of dream; the royal portraits are ridiculous.” Of all the things she loved about Alistair, his sense of humor was her favorite part of him. He gave her a silly grin that was so him, her heart smiled. His hand slipped into hers.

Anora refused to swear fealty and renounce the throne, which troubled Valena immensely. Even if Alistair had her imprisoned to deal with later, it still wasn’t enough. She told him so, later that evening after all the speeches and toasts were made.

“She’s a danger, Al,” she said. “As long as she lives, she’ll always be threat to us and the throne.”

Alistair paced up and down the room. “There’s a darkspawn horde gathering at Redcliffe; don’t you think that’s more of an immediate threat than Anora?”

“She has supporters among the nobles. They’ll take advantage of the chaos the horde provides and strike while we’re away.”

He heaved a sigh. “You’re right. I’ll… speak to Eamon, come morning. We’ll decide what to do with her before we leave for Redcliffe. Hopefully we can find somewhere to send her; more than enough blood’s been shed.” It was the best she could do, given the circumstance. Valena nodded, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning against his chest.

“I heard quite the story at dinner: some hapless man was made king and betrothed all in one day. Remarkable, isn’t it?” Alistair asked. Valena stiffened; sarcasm dripped from every word. He habitually used humor to mask his worry, but also his anger. Which was it now?

“About that. You don’t have to follow through with it—”

“A bit late for that now; they’ve already declared me King!” He heaved a sigh. “I never wanted the throne, I told you that before. But the betrothal—” he held her at arm’s length. “Val. Val, tell me I wasn’t dreaming.”

“You weren’t.” The silence worried her. “Y-You’re not angry about it, are you?”

“Of course, I am! I never got a proper proposal! What happened to the romantic music and the candlelit dinner? And roses! Leliana said there were supposed to be roses at a proposal; I feel rather cheated.” His eyes danced with merriment; she covered her chuckle with a cough.

“I only have one rose, messere. This one.” She pulled out a pendant; a dried red rose fanned beneath the glass panes. His hand closed over hers.

“It’s beautiful, just like you,” he said with a smile, “I’m so fortunate to have you, you know. I’d be lost without you.”

Valena untied the ribbon from around her neck, sliding her father’s garnet ring off. She ran her thumb over the carved gold band. This was the only thing of her father’s she had left; to give it away was such a bittersweet moment. She closed her eyes; she could feel the warmth and love of her father’s embrace around her.

She cleared her throat and fell to one knee. “I have no lutenist to play music for us, but… King Alistair of House Theirin, first of your name, Lord of the Landsmeet, Defender of the Chantry, Protector of the Realm, and heart of my heart: will you marry me?”

It was quite possibly the silliest, grandest thing Valena had ever done—and that was saying a lot, considering the drunken antics she and Zevran had gotten into after drinking Oghren’s ale. But she had never been more sincere about something in her whole life. Alistair blinked hard and nodded.

“Maker, yes,” he said immediately. Relief crashed over her, she remembered to breathe again. She slid the ring onto his finger; much to her dismay, it wouldn’t budge over his knuckle.

“Andraste’s plaideweave knickers,” she cursed under her breath, trying another finger. He couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Plaideweave? No wonder they left that out of the Chant.” So much for making the moment a solemn one. The two burst into the laughter they’d been holding back, catching each other’s eyes. Valena smiled so much that evening, her cheeks ached.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Haven (25/50)

Summary: They say Resembool is a haven, and they’re right. Lush pastures, quaint country town, farmers’ markets on Saturdays: a bucolic paradise.

But it’s more than that. Resembool is a haven for the runaways, the deserters, the people who don’t want to be found…

The Resembool community knows there’s something odd about Hohenheim, but they’re not going to let that stop them helping him out. This is Resembool after all, a place where no one has to hide and neighbours help neighbours, be they building a fence, chasing a sheep, or trying to save the country from an evil they inadvertently helped release centuries ago…

Or: A series of slices of life in an AU in which Hohenheim never leaves, and several broken state alchemists find hope and home in Resembool.

Rated: T

==

Haven

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [AO3]

Summary: At the annual Resembool bonfire, Pinako reflects on what has happened over the last few years and looks forward to the future.

Characters: Pinako, most of her friends and family

Pairings: Background Yuriy/Sarah and Trisha/Hohenheim

==

Resembool is not a village really known for its social calendar, but of the few events that take place throughout the year, the bonfire is definitely Pinako’s favourite. The whole town comes together and lets their hair down for an evening of celebration - although precisely what they’re celebrating has long since been forgotten, and now it’s just an excuse to drink and dance the night away. 

It was at the bonfire that Pinako first persuaded Hohenheim to open up and get to know some of the rest of the town, and it was at the bonfire that she persuaded him to take a chance on Trisha. She looks over at them now as they twirl around the flames with ease, lost in each other and paying no mind to the rest of the couples, not really paying any mind to the music either. She’s glad that they’re still going strong. 

Yuriy and Sarah glide past, just as besotted with each other. It’s the first bonfire that they’ve been to for a few years now, having been at the border in the field hospital for the previous ones. Pinako’s even more pleased to see that they’re still young at heart and having fun despite all the horrors that they saw during the war. They deserve this time, this chance to be unapologetically happy. Goodness knows that they’ve earned it. 

Pinako looks sideways from her comfortable perch on a log, turning her gaze towards the children. Winry, Ed and Al are clustered together with a group of others from the school, and Pinako almost dreads to think what they might be conspiring to do. It certainly wouldn’t be anything remotely related to the dancing. They’ve reached that age where the opposite sex is some kind of strange disease, and whilst Winry and the Elric brothers get on like a house on fire as friends, they wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything as smushy as dancing. 

Pinako remembers when Yuriy was the same age and had been in his own trio with Sarah and Trisha. She always knew he’d end up with one of them in the end, and despite all their protests that they were never going to get married ever, ever at all, she’s not surprised that it was Sarah, always the most vehemently opposed to matrimony of the three, that he ended up with. 

She has to wonder what the eventual outcome of Winry, Ed and Al will be. 

She thinks Ed. He and Winry tend to bicker the most and that’s usually a good indicator.

“Hey.” 

Pinako breaks off her train of thought and looks up as another tankard of beer appears in front of her. She jabs her pipe back in her mouth and takes it as Kenneth from the guesthouse sits down beside her. For a while, nothing is said. Nothing needs to be said. Theirs is a small town and everyone knows everyone else. Even the new arrivals that they’ve had over the last few years, fleeing out of Ishval from all sides, are quickly becoming part of the furniture now. 

“Well, it’s been a year,” Kenneth says eventually.

“It has indeed.” It’s been a tumultuous year, all of the good mixed in with a hefty dose of bad. The war in Ishval has officially ended now and there’s peace in the region - but that peace has come at the price of almost an entire population being wiped out. There are pockets of survivors here and there; their own Ishvalan community is thriving if living in a state of constant unease at the moment, and Pinako knows that a lot of them made it out to Xerxes. 

(Hohenheim was very happy to hear that the place that was once his home is now becoming a home again, to a people who are ultimately victims of the same villain that wiped out Xerxes the first time around.) 

It feels like they should be celebrating the bloodshed ending at last, but at the same time, the losses that they’ve faced have been sobering, especially when Resembool itself has escaped relatively unharmed and with few casualties, remaining the safe little haven that it’s always been. 

She looks around at the other clusters of people around the bonfire. The Ishvalans generally keep to themselves but are happy to mingle when approached, and she’s not surprised that their small cohort of ex-state alchemists are absent from the festivities. Roy has never been near the bonfire and she can’t say she blames him. Maybe one day he’ll look on the fire in a different light, but she’ll be the last person to hold it against him if he never truly gets over that trauma.

Pinako wonders if they’ll get any more newcomers. During the war, when people started coming, they didn’t tend to stay very long for the most part, Resembool being so close to the action. Maybe that will start to change and people will make more long-term plans here. None of those who have stayed show any signs of moving on any time soon. Pinako hopes that people will stay. There’s more than enough room in the village’s collective heart for them.

There’s a definite shadow lurking over the bonfire this year, just as there has been for all of the previous years throughout the war. Pinako doesn’t think that it will ever go away, not when she knows what’s at stake and why everything has been happening. They’re living in a dark time. They’ve been living in a dark time for longer than they can ever fathom; it’s only now that they’ve really realised it.

Still, the bonfire has always traditionally been a time of celebration and happiness, and Pinako’s not going to let the dark thoughts get in the way of enjoying good beer and good company. 

The kids rush over, pleading to be allowed to roast marshmallows on the bonfire now that the dancing has stopped to let the musicians get their breath back. Yuriy rolls his eyes and takes them to find long enough sticks as Sarah, Trisha and Hohenheim come over and settle down around Pinako. 

Ultimately, despite everything that’s gone on over the last few years, Pinako feels that right now is a moment for happiness. She’s surrounded by her family, both blood and bond, and she knows that this is a time that she will hold in her heart for a long time to come.

[the-iron-kettle]

We (I) demand coffee-related smut! Let's get frothy.

Mod Ali: Oops, this gets a 1/10 in smut, but I think I make up for it with yearning. Here ya go!

Tony hasn't felt wanted in a long time.

That's a lie. Every day his son looks at him with the big brown eyes he'd stolen from Tony and wants him around, needs Tony to protect him; and, honestly, being that person day after day is enough. Peter is his whole world. He hadn't known this before, but he wasn't complete until Peter came along. Feeling wanted in the way Tony Stark had always been wanted—for money, for sex, for… well, it was mostly sex—doesn't even cross Tony Carbonell's mind anymore. The only person in his life is Peter, and he was content with that being true for almost 8 years.

But then somewhere along the way he met Pepper Potts, and for someone who is so keen on schedules and plans, she sure threw a redheaded wrench in all of his.

As soon as Tony and Pepper make it into her apartment after a date, the door is locked and lights are dimmed and they're falling together onto her big, soft bed with the eggshell linens. The food was good and Peter was sleeping over at Happy's so Tony could sleep over at Pepper's. The first time he'd been here, he'd made a stupid offhand comment about how colourful the place was, glancing pointedly at the varying shades of cream and warm grays. Hey, he'd been nervous. He still is nervous.

But then, he catches glimpses of colour, like a bright red Hotwheels car on the dining room table from the last time he and Peter were here for dinner, or the (to her total distaste) neon green hoodie he'd lent her after she got caught in the rain on the way to the shop, hanging in her open closet. Or the small collection of picture frames on Pepper's bedside table, the only instance of anything that can be described as 'clutter' in the entirety of her apartment, of him or Peter or all three of them or of everyone—Rhodey and Happy, too. Then, he feels a little less nervous and a little more like he belongs here, in Pepper's neat little apartment and her neat little life, when his own is so complicated and rough around the edges.

He and Pepper stop their bickering (about the ultimate pastry, of all things) between the gentle kisses, and now they're just sort of looking at each other. Tony knows her face better than his own at this point, for all the admiring he's done; the curve of her cheeks are familiar, and the smattering of freckles across her nose are delicious. He knows her eyelashes, underneath the light makeup she wears, are pale and delicate. Her cheeks and lips are a little ruddy at the moment, and that's his fault, as is the softly quirked smile. He only realizes he's not breathing when she touches his cheek and pulls a sigh out of him.

Pepper has this way of looking at Tony with her intelligent blue eyes—she's doing it right now, studying her lover the same way he was doing—that screams to Tony that she wants him. It scares him and, on top of that, confuses him, because she is pretty much the coolest, smartest person in the universe, he's damn sure. What does she want with his sorry ass? She could have anyone with a snap of her perfectly manicured fingers but she's here, inviting a scruffy, washed up murderer into her bed. 

(She knows it, now; she knows who he was, and she still wants who he is.)

The worst, and best, thing about Pepper's eyes is that he's pretty sure they see right through him. Without saying a word, Pepper ends the silence with a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, and she leans in, and Tony is just selfish enough to stop thinking and meet her halfway. She knows him so well, knows when he's thinking too much, knows how to distract him. That's the first way Pepper makes him feel wanted—by just knowing him. By taking charge, carefully pushing him back into the cushions, an increasingly firm grip on his collar or hips or hair, and just letting them make out like teenagers for a while.

(As the kids say: no thoughts. Head empty.)

"Tastes like coffee," Pepper whispers, because she always says that, like a running joke. It's not very funny, bless her, and it's probably true; Tony would be surprised if his body wasn't actually just 70% coffee at this point.

"I can definitely keep you up all night, honey," Tony smirks back, because his mouth runs independently from the rest of him, and thank god, because broadcasting his anxiety all the time would be a fucking bummer.

Pepper scoffs, but she loves his puns, he knows it. That's another way she makes him feel wanted. She laughs at his jokes. He always seems to catch her giggling in the corner of his eye, even when he's just being himself. She has an incredible smile.

Pepper makes him feel wanted with her hands, exploring his body in a way that made him squeamish at first. Tony Stark had never once been body-shy, but Tony Stark stopped existing several haircuts and thirty pounds ago. It hadn't mattered one bit to him until he and Pepper had started—this—and it struck him that the guy Pepper should be seen with was someone like Tony Stark, with the crisp Armani suits and shiny Italian shoes and nicely windswept hair. Damn, Tony had had really sexy abs at one point.

But despite his pudgy stomach—the result of many blueberry danishes, his haphazard cooking skills and a now non-existent vanity budget—and because Pepper can undoubtedly read his mind, she throws a leg over his and their thighs slot together, which is a pretty good distraction. She pulls her face away from his, which really kind of sucks, but then kisses his jaw like it's an apology. She trails down his neck where he's only somewhat ticklish, and her small, thin hands have somehow crept onto his love-handles without him noticing. She squeezes gently and giggles when Tony jumps because his ribs are also somewhat ticklish. Somehow, he doesn't have it in him to be any kind of upset, though, especially with her grinding low and slow on his groin like that. Her mouth does a slow, sensual tour of him, tasting him, nipping him. 

(Pepper Potts is a biter, to Tony's awe and, ultimately, delight.) 

She coaxes him out of his shirt and slides out of her own, and right when Tony feels a dumb joke coming up she grins and takes a convenient break from her exploration to return home and kiss him. It's been a while since his last partner, but Tony was never one to be useless in bed, and he just barely lets Pepper finish giving him the hickey on his collar (Tony remembers suddenly that she got him a couple turtleneck tops this past Christmas and he wonders if the two actions are correlated) before flipping them over and turning the tables, showing her how much he wants her. He tongues at her throat, her arms, her breasts in a way that makes her sigh happily, a now bare leg wrapping around his back and pulling him in tighter. He obediently kisses where she directs him to and he tells her in low murmurs how beautiful she is.

Neither of them had a drop to drink tonight besides sparkling juice, or a hit of anything that would remind Tony of his club kid youth. No mind games, no sex games; unless what Pepper is after is a lifetime of free chocolate croissants, he has nothing to offer but himself. So maybe it's caveman of him to think this, but yeah, when he reaches a hand down and Pepper is wet after a half hour of their usual quips and some smooching, it makes him feel wanted. The hand Pepper has snaked around his wrist feels like it's grounding him. The other hand vacillates between his hair and his ass, which is really just the cherry on top of the ego cake.

Pepper kisses him slowly while he fucks her the same way. They both enjoy the moment. Pepper makes him feel wanted when they've both finished and she tucks herself into his arms, and there's something in the way that she fits so perfectly there that makes him kind of lightheaded. 

She does it when she continues her argument from, like, two hours ago that Happy's chocolate croissants are in fact the best treat The Iron Kettle serves, and she does have the authority to make this decision because she has tried everything over the last few years where she came in just to be with Tony, with Peter, with Happy. She does it when she keeps his and his son's shit all over her apartment, in plain view despite the immaculate tidiness of everything else, because she likes having these pieces of her new family around her all the time. She does it when she fights him, because he knows he has a bad habit of pushing away and she knows it too, and she doesn't let him indulge in it for a second. She does it when she makes every excuse to come up to his and Peter's apartment, because she has apparently made it a game to discover something new about them every time she stops by, in the form of a toy Peter made or the books on the shelves. She does it when she laughs at his dad jokes, and when she cares for Peter like he was her own son.

(Peter could be her son. Tony realizes suddenly that he wants to marry her. Can she hear his heart thudding? Fuck. Let's shuffle this terrifying thought to the back for the moment. A heart attack, even a small one, would really ruin the afterglow.)

Pepper makes him feel wanted. Pepper, a shining light in his life, another piece that he hadn't known he was missing until he had them, like Rhodey, like Peter… Tony couldn't not want them if he tried.

For as long as they wanna keep Tony around, he is going to be grateful, try not to cry, and do his fucking best to act like he deserves it.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the Meet Ugly Prompt: #23 Sternclary NSFW if you can :)

23: our mutual friend has been talking us up to the other and when we finally meet, we have to tell them that we’ve been in a feud for the last six years (and I can’t stop thinking of all the nice things our friend has said about you). NSWF

“EeEEH, I’m so excited for you to finally meet him.” Aubrey tugs her uncle down the hall, “he’s practically like another uncle to me, and he’s really such a fucking amazing cook--he made all the stuff tonight--so he’ll go with your whole foodie thing-”

“Critic, firebug, food critic” Stern smiles at her.

“Right, right, and he’s got the hunky lumberjack thing going that you know you love.”

“Geez, you buy one calendar-” he elbows her, chuckling. Then the world screeches to a halt. 

“Mr. Cobb.” He nods, polite as he can manage with rage-horns blaring in his head. 

“Stern.” The bearded man nods back, pushing off of the counter where he’s leaning, glass in hand, talking to Dani.

“Why do I have the bad feeling you two know each other.” Dani looks at her uncle nervously.

“You remember when Amnesty was first getting off the ground and we were struggling to get anyone to take us seriously? This” he points to Stern, no anger or ice in his voice but plenty in his eyes, “is the fucker who gave us the bad review that set us back months.”

“I was doing my job, I’ve told you that a dozen times since then, it was nothing personal. Unlike what you did afterwards.” He replies coolly. 

“Oh for fucks sake, I apologized for that.”

“Yes, two years after the fact, which hardly makes up for arguing with every review I wrote so forcefully that Hayes pulled me from the review circuit for months and made me do cookbook reviews instead.”

“Poor Stern, had to do a slightly different desk job while I was terrified the restaurant would go under.”

“You ended up fine, and if the food at Hornet is any indication, you improved.”

“Lucky me, getting such kind words from the illustrious Joseph Stern.”

“I was trying to-”

“Nevermind. I gotta go check the stuff on the grill.” He reaches the screen door to the back yard, then turns, “and I appreciate the thought, kid, but he’s just not my type.”

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

The problem is, of course, that Stern is exactly Barclay’s type. Or maybe he’s everyone’s type, all nice suits and handsome face and perfectly slicked down black hair. They’ve run across each other at plenty of food functions in the city over the last six years, and Barclay always feels like a scraggy mountain man standing near him. It doesn’t help that Stern talks about food the way other people talk about fine art, and Barclay could listen to him do it all day. 

He also tells really, really corny jokes when he thinks no one is listening, and Barclay hates his mouth for how many times it’s laughed at them. 

Making amends is the right thing to do, but every time he considered it his whole being--piloted by his ego-- recoils. 

But they’re going to be family soon. And his niece doesn’t deserve to deal with their feud. He picks up his phone, Stern’s number on his desk thanks to Dani’s wedding planning list. 

Me: This is Barclay. If you’re still reading, I think we should meet and talk things over. For real, not in the way we keep fucking up.

Stern: Why?

Me: Because your niece and my niece are getting married and I don’t want us bickering like jerks at the wedding.

Stern:Good point.

Me: Meet me at the Arch? Bar there is good.

Stern: Ok. 8 tomorrow work?

Me: See you then.

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

Stern fights the urge to shred his napkin as he waits at the bar. Maybe this is a set up, or a trap, or-

“Hey.” Barclay announces himself with a tap on the shoulder. His auburn hair is hanging loose, and the blue shirt he’s chosen brings out the brown of his eyes and the copper in his beard.

Stern should stop staring. 

He picks up the drink menu as Barclay sits down next to him, “Um, the, um, I can buy. Consider it another apology. What do you get?”

Barclay gives him a mild smile, “How about you pick for both of us?”

It’s an olive branch wrapped in a challenge, and so Stern studies the menu carefully. Chooses the Bigfoot, a mixture of bourbon, chocolate bitters, with a splash of cherry soda, for Barclay and and the Roswell (smoked prickly pear juice and tequila) for himself. 

“Good choice.” Barclay smiles at him over the rim of his glass, the first genuine smile he’s ever sent his way, and he straightens proudly at the praise. 

“I remember the drink menu at Hornet was bourbon heavy.”

“Goes with the food, but yeah, it’s my booze of choice.”

“So…” Stern swirls the toothpick in his drink, “how do you suggest we go forward?”

Barclay sighs, “Was kinda hoping you had some ideas.”

“Look, how about we agree that when we’re together for wedding planning stuff, we don’t talk about our history, restaurants or food that isn’t specifically related to the wedding menu?”

“Deal.” Barclay finishes his drink, “what do we talk about instead?”

“Books?” Stern signals the bartender, orders them both another round.

“Works for me. Hmm, lemme guess, you read those big-ass historical ones.”

Stern snickers, “I prefer mysteries, or well done travelogue.”

“You’ve read Bourdain, I’m guessing?”

“Of course. He put me on to a cooking memoir by, by, oh damn it all, he wrote that Madeline series.”

“Bemelmans! Shit, I love his memoirs. They’re my comfort reads along with My Life in France.”

“Classic.” 

Before Stern even knows it, an hour has gone by, they’re three drinks in, and he has a new reading list. He also sees now why Aubrey thought to set him up with the cook; Barclay is easy-going and friendly, even stopping their conversation to exchange hellos with several staff that recognize him, a needed counterpoint to his own professional demeanor. That soft, deep voice slips under his skin, sets his nerves humming, and Stern wants to move closer, let those capable hands do whatever they wished to him if it meant Barclay would keep stealing appreciative glances at him. 

Then he puts his foot in it.

“....food was just a little heavy, like how it is at Amnesty.”

Barclay frowns, “have you even been back there lately?”

“No, I assumed I’d be forcibly shown the door.”

“I would’ve been tempted, but I’m a fucking professional, thank you very much.”

“Besides, it wouldn’t prove your point; I know you’re the exec, but you don’t cook there anymore.”

“Hold the fuck up, it’s my cooking you think was the issue?”

“I didn’t mean that, just that...no, actually, I did mean it. That menu never played to your strengths.”

“That so.” Barclay slams his glass down, the dram undercut when he flashes an apologetic look at the waitstaff before standing in Stern’s space and looming over him, “my house, Tuesday at seven. I’ll show you exactly how good that menu can be in my hands.”

“I look forward to it.”

Barclay leans closer and whispers “bring an appetite” in his ear, voice just shy of a growl. 

Somehow, Stern doesn’t think he’ll have trouble doing so.

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

Stern knocks on the door of the modest house. He knows Barclay is now worth quite a bit of money, so the fact he’s chosen an A-frame that looks like it belongs in Tahoe is charming. As was the afternoon they spent with their (clearly relieved) nieces testing out wedding cake ideas. Barclay even laughed at his corny puns and complimented his flavor choice (and how the suit he’s having fitted for the ceremony fit him).

“Come in.” 

He steps into the house, finds the kitchen off to the right, just beyond the dining room. There’s only one place set at the table, and when Barclay comes into view he sees why. The taller man is in his chefs whites, hair tied back, making Stern relieved he’s wearing a suit. 

“Should I…”

“Take a seat, first course is gonna be out shortly.”

“Right, of course--what’s that sound?” Something is whining behind a door down the hall.

“Hmm? Oh, just Sass, he heard someone come in and wants to be the welcoming committee. He’ll chill out in a sec, he has a dog puzzle there to keep him occupied.” Barclay turns back into the kitchen as Stern sits down. Thanks to the pass through, he can watch as he pulls down a plate and sets three parcels of dough on it. 

“You’re getting tasting portions” he sets the plate down, “I’m not blowing through a bunch of ingredients just to prove a point. Smoked salmon pierogies to start.”

Stern takes one bite and knows he’s beaten. The filling is perfectly seasoned, feels like butter in his mouth, and the dough is impeccably made. Maybe it’s a fluke, but all three are gone before Barclay sets the next plate in front of him.

“Bacon, arugula, goat cheese, and blueberry jam on sourdough.” The aroma from the sandwich is intoxicating. 

The first course was not a fluke, and he moans after taking a bite. Barclay chuckles, turning back to the kitchen. 

“So, Aubrey told me something interesting.” Barclay says casually as he slices what looks like lamb, “she said you don’t only write about food.”

“Oh lord.” Embarrassment creeps up his back, so he focus on his meal.

“Weekly World News is almost as good a byline as the Times.”

“Please don’t say more.”

“Bigfoot is my boyfriend’ was especially good.”

“Oh lord, you looked them up?”

“Yep, Aubrey gave me your pen name. I had a blast reading them, you should, uh, let that funny side out more.” The oven shuts and he returns to the table leaning against the counter of the pass through, “gonna be a minute more on the third course. How is it so far?”

“Incredible.”

“Glad to hear it.” Barclay wipes his hands on his apron and Stern has a moment of clarity; the cook is nervous.

“Can I tell you something nobody else knows? I, um, I’m working on a pitch that combines the two. I want to travel to famous paranormal locations and write about local food at the same time.”

“That sounds amazing.” Barclay pulls out a chair, “do you know if anyone’ll take it?”

“I’m trying some magazines and websites first, to see if they’ll pick it up as a series, which’d make it easier to jump to a book later on.”

A timer dings and Barclay stands, returning with a lamb pot pie for one that Stern eats without concern for how conspicuous his sounds of delight are getting. 

Dessert arrives on a small, round plate. Stern tucks into the airy chocolate strawberry cake with raspberry sauce on the side, notice Barclay already washing up. Pity, he was hoping he could stay and talk awhile. There’s only a bite or two left when he decides to admit defeat.

“This is one of the best meals I’ve ever had, Barclay. Whatever you were trying to prove, you proved.”

“Good.” Is all he gets in reply. 

“Barclay, I have to know: I wasn’t the only critic to give a less than stellar review of Amnesty when it opened. We both know that. So...why me? Why act as if I was the one who wronged you.”

Barclay turns, wiping his hands on his apron before hanging it up as he sighs, “yeah, you weren’t the only bad one, but the Times held more weight than any other food section in the city. When you reviewed us we were floundering, and when I saw it I just, I almost gave up; I’d put everything, my heart, my soul, my last dime, into Amnesty. And here was some critic basically dooming us. But once I was done being upset, I got pissed, threw myself into proving the bad reviews wrong and you, uh, you became the avatar for every critic who wrote us off as not being fancy enough to compete in the food scene here.”

“Are, did you make me your  fucking mental punching bag?” Stern stands just as Barclay leaves the kitchen.

“Yeah, and I’m not fucking sorry. That spite was the kick I needed.”

“And it nearly cost me my job, and my reputation!”

“Maybe you should have lost both, given that you helped Hayes shoot down anyone who threatened the old guard.”

“No I fucking didn’t! I fought him time and again to let me review new chefs, feature them, praise them. Lord almighty Barclay, I’m not some soulless fucking machine who just does as I’m told. In fact-” they’re toe to toe, his lower back to the table, as he pulls out his phone and searches, “even in my review, the one you hated, I was defending you, telling people to give you a chance.”

“Like hell you were.” Barclay snorts. 

“I’ll prove it, here” he clears his throat, reads off an excerpt, “Chef Cobb is clearly talented, with a sense of flavor that’s at once exciting and comforting. It is my hope that as Amnesty leaves it’s growing pains behind, we will see incredible offerings from him. There.” He tosses his phone on the table, “see?”

Barclay stutters once, twice, then mutters, “finish your meal, Stern.”

“No, not until you apologize.”

“Jesus christ, just eat the fucking cake!”

“Make me!”

Barclay inhales, long and measured, as he reaches around Stern and picks up the bite of cake. When he holds it to Stern’s lips, he keeps them in a firm line. 

“Open. your fucking. Mouth.”

“Fuck youOghm” he flails backwards, hand landing on his plate as Barclay shoves the cake into his mouth. He’s never had sweetness applied so forcefully, and the part of him that isn’t annoyed is screaming with arousal. 

He swallows, feels something sticky on his fingertips. 

Barclay leers, rumbles, “that’s bet-”

Stern smears his hand across his face, streaking raspberry sauce on his cheeks and mouth. 

Barclay licks his lips, growls, and lunges forward at the same moment Stern grabs his shoulders and pulls. Teeth connect first with his neck, then his lower lip before Barclay shoves their mouths together, moaning when Stern tugs their hips flush. Grinds against him so hard the table digs into his back as they yank ineffectively at each other’s clothes. 

“Tell me, Stern, four courses enough for you?”

“I’m satisfied. Barely.” He bites Barclay’s ear, making him grunt. 

“Barely? Barely? Fine, think I got one more you. On your fucking knees.” Strong hands shove him down by his shoulders, or they try to; he’s already dropping, panting in anticipation as he fumbles with Barclay’s pants. When he finally gets a look at his cock he groans hungrily at the size, lips staying parted as Barclay guides it between them with one hand and yanks his hair with another. 

He’s craving, praying for, and expecting roughness. Even so, he gags when Barclay thrusts as far as he can, toes curling and eyes watering as he bumps the top of his throat again and again.

“Fuck, fuck, there we go” he tugs his hair, wonderful pain prickling his neck and making him moan, “oh fuck yeah, every time I do that you tighten, so good, so fucking good.” He tightens his hold, fucking his mouth harder as Stern brings a hand up to stroke the base of his cock, “nmm, yeah, that’s it, show me what those hands are good for, god, fuck, Joe.” 

Stern whimpers, delighted at how his name sounds in that rough, demanding baritone. 

“Shit, fuck, you want something else to swallow tonight?”

He nods, paws at Barclays thigh. 

“Then you, fuck, you got it, fuckfuck Joe, baby, that’s it ohfuck.” Cum spurts down his throat and he swallows like he’s starving, licks and sucks when Barclay orders him to finish it all. 

As soon as the cook releases him, he drops to his knees on the hardwood next to Stern. Stern, for his part, is wondering if Barclay will at least let him hide in his bathroom a few minutes so he doesn’t have to drive home hard and soaking wet. 

Then his back hits the floor, one calloused hand cupping his face and the other yanking his pants open so messily a button goes flying. 

“I, you, you don’t have to-”

“Do you want me to?” Barclay pauses, meeting his eyes with such genuine, tender concern that he melts like butter in a pan. 

“Lord yes.”

Barclay’s hand slips beneath his boxer-briefs, three fingers sliding into him when he spreads his legs.

“Fuck, fuck, ohlord, Barclay, just a little shallowerAHfuck, yesright, right there.” He cranes his neck and Barclay gets the hint,dipping down to kiss him to the slick sound of his fingers fucking into him. 

Jerking his hips, he can’t find the friction he needs, so he reaches between them and tilts Barclay’s hand so his dick can drag across his palm. His vocabulary has diminished to affirmation laced profanity (or profanity laced affirmatives) and Barclay is faring the same, growling praise in his ear as he gives him more pressure to rut against. 

“Lookit you, god, shoulda known you’d look as good fucking as you do eating. Take me so well, gonna find every way to fill you.”

“Please.” He whispers, eyes squeezing shut in concentration.

“Gonna spread you out on a table and eat you like a fucking gourmet meal, gonna fuck that perfect mouth til your so full of cum you can’t swallow any more.”

“Lord, Bar, Barclay, please don’t stop, don’t tease.”

“Who said anything about teasing?” A tender kiss to the corner of his mouth even as the hand fucks him hard enough to make him cry out, “you’re my new favorite taste, babe, and I got so many fucking plans for you.”

Stern cums so abruptly his leg kicks out and bangs his heel on a table leg, but he doesn’t feel it. His would is the pleasure speeding through him, the repetition of Barclay’s name, the affection that overwhelms him and the fear nipping at it’s heels. 

He comes back to himself on his side, face nestled against Barclay’s chest. 

“Christ, think we both needed that.” The cook sighs, content, and pets his hair. 

“I, um, I certainly no longer feel the need to argue with you over things from six years ago.”

“Me neither. And, uh, I’m sorry for being a dick for so long.”

“And I’m sorry for the spot my review put you in.” 

Barclay laughs, shaking his head, “only took six years and some killer sex to get us there, huh?”

“It is pretty silly, in retrospect.”

“Your foot okay?”

“Uh huh. I, um, I can be out of your hair in a moment.”

Barclay raises an eyebrow, “because you want to be or because you think you should be?”

“The second one.” 

“Don’t gotta leave on my account. In fact, uh, I, uh, I was hoping maybe you’d stay. I want to test out some breakfast ideas on you. Also I like cuddling you and don’t want to stop.”

“A compelling argument. Though we should move to the bed.”

“On it.” Barclay stands, scoops him up with some effort, and carries him precariously to the still-shut bedroom door.

“Damn it.”

“On it.” Stern reaches out and turns the knob, whereupon Barclay barely gets him to the bed without dropping him, as Sass is boinging about their feet.  

“What kind-”

“Rottweiler, corgi, spaniel. I think. Not sure where the huge feet came from.” Barclay cuddles up next to him as he strips off his clothes. As he rolls under the covers, Barclay nuzzles his cheek.

“Would, um, would you like to try having a, um, a different kind of relationship? Like a dating one?”

“I’d love it.” 

Barclay’s smile is pure bliss, and when he kisses him, it’s the best taste in the world 

[siapsymud-moved]

❤

Send me a ❤ and a ship and I’ll answer these questions about them.

@ofcongress

Dating:

Where was their first official date? First ‘date’ they didn’t really have one. Now official date, took Hancock with them to the beach for a weekend to themselves.

What is their favorite date location? Green Dragon, they’re just personally attatched and it’s fun to go.

How many dates before their first kiss? None, kiss came before the dates

Who asked who out first? Oh goodness... it was really neither. The two of them caught feelings and then eventually acted on them

How many dates before they considered each other a couple? So this one is tricky. They already consider themselves best friends and when they eventually found out all the things they’d gone through together it just kept strengthening their bond. When the truth came out that they’d already once had been in love with each other they ended up kissing again. There was never any label formally put on them, no dates they went out on because they’d always been together and after living together for all this time and spending so much time around each other, it was one of those things that just happened. I don’t even know if this makes any sense. They just have always been partners in a way, before it was definitely just partners in crime/treason, and now they’re just--- partners.

Friends:

How many mutual friends do they have? ...They’re all kinda dead now. BUT They used to have quite a few as their social lives were rather intertwined due to the Sons of Liberty as well as due to the fact that Sam was John’s mentor. Now really the only friends they have in common are Alexander if you count him and Abigail and Joseph. 

Which one of their friends is most likely to get in between an argument between the ship?

Which one has more friends? Back then, it was probably John. Nowadays it’s kind of a toss in between them both, but I feel like Sam might have more just because he keeps befriending teachers.

Which one has introduced the other to more people? I feel like John has always won at this one, even more so with modern times because he’s got friends like Theodore and Dustin while Sam really had no one.

Did they start out as friends and made their way to a couple, or were they a couple almost right away? They began as mentor/mentee and just very close friends, that is all they remained as for their first time around. During the war they were allies and friends who’d caught feelings for each other, sadly due to death there was little time for that. Now in modern times they were friends for a long time before they found out the secrets from the past and are exploring a relationship again.

Arguments:

What do they argue about the most? Gosh uh- anything? Mostly stupid arguments that relate to the past in some way or another.

How do they usually solve their disagreements? Sam apologizing and then trying to get John to forgive him, that’s really the only way it’s ever gone.

Do they argue a lot or not very often? They used to argue a lot more in the past, more differences in between them to pick at. Now a days there’s less fights and they happen with less frequency. At the end of the day though, they have been best friends for far longer than partners so butting heads it’s inevitable. But at least the arguments are less explosive.

Who admits to being wrong more often? Samuel does 99.999999% of the time.

Sex:

Who is more likely to initiate sex? Toss of the hat and depends on the day.

Do they prefer to do it in a bed, or do they prefer a chair, or perhaps the shower?  Maybe other spots? Bed is just easier and more convenient, but it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened in other spots.

Do they practice any kind of bdsm in the bedroom at all and if so, what kinds? EEEEH? I don’t know

Who’s usually more dominant in the bedroom? Sam tries to be and just because he’s a bossy lil shit, but also because he likes to surprise John

Lights on or off? On

Do they share any kinks? A handful, I think

Does either one have any kinks that they don’t have in common with the other? Not as far as they’ve found out

Have they ever had sex anywhere public before? ...honestly, yeah. DC Fieldtrip, kids were busy with a movie and the two of them slipped away for a few minutes.

Who would be most likely to suggest bringing in a third person and who would that person be? Neither, it’s just them both and they like it that way.

Cuddling:

When are they most likely to cuddle? At night when they’re both done with work and are usually hanging out after dinner or putting on a movie. And definitely any time one o them is just laying down in bed either reading or scrolling through things on their phone.

Where is their favorite place to cuddle? In bed with Hancock laying down next to them or in between them.

Who’s usually the big spoon? Depends on the day, but Sam likes to hold him so it goes that way.

Do they cuddle often? When they’re both in Boston yes, if you consider they’re apart for 4/7 days of the week then no.

Marriage:

Are they married?  If not, is it something that could happen between them? Not married, and whether that’s something that could or could not happen is just up in the air. Their relationship is so far from normal that it’s hard to say if it would ever happen, but Sam would like to one day. Or at least just give a ring to John. Can’t exactly get married when your fake identity doesn’t exist. It would be mostly just symbolic and for them if it did happen.

If they are married, where did they get married at?  If not married, what is their dream wedding location? Probably Boston ngl, they’re attatched to the place

If married, who proposed to who?  If not married, who would be more likely to propose to who? Sam to John

If they are married, which one moved in with the other?  If not married, who would be more likely to move in with the other? I mean--- Sam moved in with John already just because John has the bigger place and Hancock is happy

Children:

Do they have kids?  If not, would they consider having kids? They have one Hancock

How many kids do they have?  If no kids, how many kids would they want to have? 1 because John is a party pooper and won’t let Sam get a second dog

What are the children’s names?  If no kids, what would they name their kids? Hancock

Random:

What are three random headcannons you have about the ship that are not related to romance or sex? 

Samuel steals John’s clothes, even before they were together it just happened. But I mean is it really stealing when John is okay with it and Sam always returned them and you have permission? Also when John himself would just pick out Sam’s clothes

Back many years ago, Sam used to write letters to John. This was back when he still thought John was dead for good. But he was so depressed and so alone that he would write to John as if he were still alive and like he would answer him back and they could bicker like in the old times. Those letters remain but they’re stashed deep into a box.

One of the reasons Samuel regrets that ten year period of not speaking to each other and why he was so broken inside when John died so young was because during those ten years he came close, several times to apologizing to John himself. In the end he always talked himself out of it, convicing himself that he was right and it was John that was wrong and should apologize first. They could have had more time together.

Which one is more likely to suggest getting pets? Samuel, always Samuel.

Which one eats more snack foods? Samuel, he keeps a drawer stashed with snacks in his classroom 

What is their favorite movie to watch together? Hamilton, they have the whole thing memorized

What is their favorite tabletop game to play together? It’s hard to say when you’re just playing with each other, I’d say probably something really dumb like a trivia game or something that requires actual strategy like chess or so.

What are your three absolute favorite things about this ship? How close to each other they are and their bond to each other, how they’re absolutely ridiculous sometimes when you put them together but it just feels so organic that it works, and what they mean to each other and how far they would go for the other.

What is one thing you don’t like about this ship? That they are absolute DUMBASSES who can’t seem to communicate on the fact they’ve both had or have feelings for each other, and do all these cutesy things together but it’s always ‘nah we’re just bros’. IT IS GAY WHEN U KISS THE HOMIE AND U BOTH LIKE IT

If you had to rate this ship on a scale of 1-10, what would you give it? 11/10

[thankskenpenders]

Yeah, this is the big one. Grab your popcorn

Sally finally gets a moment to talk to Sonic after being ignored all day, and tells him what’s up. With her being put in charge, and Sonic being her royal consort (basically, the guy who’s committed to marrying her someday but isn’t quite her fiance yet), Sally wants Sonic to stop going on away missions and lead Knothole by her side

Look. Let’s set aside all of our preconceived notions about what a Sonic comic should or shouldn’t be. Ignore the fact that we obviously want to see Sonic go on adventures. Forget it. Let’s look at it from Sally’s perspective for a second

Yes, this is the post in which I explain that “The Slap” isn’t that bad. It’s certainly not great, but it’s not The Worst Thing Ever like it’s been made out to be. I wish I didn’t have to spend my evening writing this, but 15 years of hyperbolic fan outrage (note: some Wikia rando added that “reception” section this year) have forced my hand

First of all, again, Sonic is formally committed to marrying her and ruling alongside her someday. This was established ten issues ago. He was already committed to this. Then, Sonic went and died. Sally still spent an entire year of her life thinking her basically-fiance was dead, and had to deal with shit in Knothole without him as things continued to get worse and worse. No one can just bounce back from that unscathed. After his return, she WANTED to help Sonic and go be a Freedom Fighter on the last mission, but her parents forbade her and the royal guards kept her in the castle. (That SUCKS, but is a whole ‘nother conversation.) She wants to fight by his side and keep him safe, but her parents are forcing her to stay home and be the princess, which only makes her more distraught. Last issue, she broke down into tears when she saw Sonic get shot by M over Eggman’s video feed, and her mother had to console her and reassure her Sonic wasn’t dead

Sally very clearly has PTSD over Sonic’s “death” a year ago. She doesn’t want to lose him again. She’s outright said as much

And also... when she says Sonic isn’t the only hero around, she’s got a point?Sonic barely did anything in the last arc! Tails was the one who outsmarted ADAM. Shadow dealt with Eggman. Bunnie did most of the damage to M and took out an entire fucking aircraft carrier on her own. Knuckles, the Chaotix, Rouge, and Amy took out the robot horde. All Sonic did was land the final attack on M--which, honestly, someone else could’ve done. And he got his arm injured in the process

Add on to this all of the chaos of the last few days. Sally’s barely had a free moment to see Sonic since she found out he was alive. They nearly got nuked by Eggman. They’re being harangued by the paparazzi. It sucks. And hell, it goes back WAY further than this! She spent years as a kid trying to save her parents, and now all they do is belittle her. She found out she had a secret older brother, and then her parents decided he was the more important child. She went through all sorts of relationship drama. She nearly died a few times herself. And now, her parents have decided to leave her in charge of their whole kingdom at a time of war, while she’s still a mess from the trauma of losing Sonic. The idea Bollers had was apparently that Sally had been bottling up her issues for years (which she totally had been), and this was just the breaking point

I know Sonic’s desire to keep being a hero is understandable. I know he’s right. That’s all he really knows how to do, and he feels useless in times of peace. And obviously, we the readers want to see Sonic go on adventures. But Sally’s concerns are valid. We don’t have to agree with her plan to have Sonic rule by her side for her emotions to be understandable

Sally’s been on the verge of a breakdown for who knows how long. She should be mad at her parents, but they’ve worn her down to the point where she thinks she’s unable to confront them. (It would be very, very easy to make a case arguing that Sally’s parents are emotionally abusive. Max especially.) She thinks that Sonic is the one person who will listen to her and have her back. They’re betrothed, after all. This is literally what he signed up for. After trying to get his attention ALL DAY, she finally gets a chance to talk to him. But he wants other things in life, and refuses. In front of a crowd, no less

So she lashes out at Sonic and slaps him

Then they both start yelling at each other and crying. Sally asks Sonic if she’s more important to him than fighting Eggman, Sonic can’t answer, and Sally runs away in tears. For all intents and purposes, Sonic and Sally are now broken up. (For now.)

Should Sally be lashing out at Sonic? No. Could this scene be done better? Oh, absolutely. This is not the direction I would want Sally to go in as a character, and if you ARE gonna have them fight, this wasn’t written with the care required to make fans sympathize with both parties. The fact that we’ve seen everything from Sonic’s perspective with barely any insight into Sally’s certainly doesn’t help. But as the several lengthy paragraphs above explain, this does not come out of nowhere. It’s easy to find lots of fans online calling Sally all sorts of names (sometimes very misogynistic or ableist ones) because they think she just flipped out on Sonic out of nowhere. But she didn’t. Sally having some sort of breakdown had been foreshadowed for several issues, and the reasons why make sense. No, she shouldn’t have lashed out at Sonic, but this isn’t just her going “Oh no, my period! Let’s nuke England!” as so many have made it out to be. (And hell, the comics already had a lengthy history of treating Sally even worse than this, with Gallagher making her the nagging girlfriend who bickered with Sonic all the time and Penders sympathizing more with her shitty dad.)

Again, this was supposed to be a turning point in which Sally bottling up all this crap and carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders finally leads to her breaking. It’s a dramatic low point to build back up from. The problem is that Bollers left the series only a few issues later, and Penders and “Chacon” never did much with this. So in hindsight, many view this as her randomly snapping “for no reason,” because the followup stories that would have explored how she’d been bottling up her feelings were never actually written. But it’s not hard to figure out what’s supposed to be going on in her head if you actually go back and look at the preceding Sally scenes

For the most part, this is just run of the mill relationship drama for Archie Sonic. You see this kind of shit all the time in serialized media. Characters date, but the writers need to keep things ~spicy~, so they break up, see other people... then inevitably end up back together, and the process repeats ad nauseum. You ever watch Scrubs? You know how JD and Elliot are obviously love interests from episode one, but they had to do that will they/won’t they shit for years and have flings with other characters to keep up ratings? Yeah, it’s just that. For Sonic, there’s also the added pressure from Sega, who never allowed Sonic to be in any stable relationship for very long. Several writers have talked about how this limited what they could do with Sonic and Sally. Do I like that this cycle of drama is the norm? No. But after over 200 of these comics, I’m used to it

(And hell, at this point in the comics, they had literally just broken up Bunnie and Antoine, and Rouge was starting to get in the way of Knuckles and Julie-Su’s relationship. Between Julie-Su and Knuckles’ first kiss and them actually dating, Penders had Julie-Su get mad at Knuckles and go out with some random other guy. They do this shit all the time)

The worst you can really say about this scene is that Jon’s art is a little too goofy and undermines the drama a bit. In his own words from his website’s FAQ: “I’m sorry. Like I said, I was an overeager noob and I drew what I was given.” But really, he had been drawing these sorts of exaggerated, frantic expressions throughout the entire issue. Not just with Sally. Look at all the panels of Sonic wigging out in the previous pages. I still think his work is fantastic. If anything, it was a bad call on Archie’s part to give this somber scene to a brand new artist with a very exaggerated, silly art style. He just drew what was in the script

You know what really blows about this whole thing, though? Jon Gray is still, to this day, over 15 years later, getting harassed for drawing The Slap

That is so utterly ridiculous and shitty. People have made up all sorts of conspiracy theories about the slap, saying that Jon had some sort of “anti-Sally agenda” and that it wasn’t in the script. (This is completely false.) People are so stuck in the past and bent out of shape over this one panel in a pretty run-of-the-mill Archie Sonic issue that Jon has to block people who come into his Twitter mentions accusing him of “sabotaging” the series on a regular basis. Y’all, Jon’s a good guy, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like that

And lord. There’s so much nastier shit within this series. Penders hooking a 15-year-old Sally up with a dude in his 20s (and later saying that he wanted her to lose his virginity to said dude). Gallagher making Barby Koala have a creepy crush on Tails. Penders rephrasing a poem about the Holocaust to be about hedgehogs. Penders having Sally rationalize her dad’s attempt at genocide. (I could go on and on with Penders, can you tell)

This whole thing is just, so blown out of proportion. It’s not a great scene, but it didn’t “ruin” Sally’s character. Neither Jon nor Bollers had some sort of “anti-Sally agenda.” They weren’t out to ruin your fucking ship. And for god’s sake, quit yelling at them about it. This was 15 years ago and all parties involved have moved on. It’s just more melodrama in a series that’s always 90% melodrama

It’s a single panel in a comic about Sonic the Hedgehog. Can we move on