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wardenparker · 3 years ago

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From Dorne, with Love - part 6

Oberyn Martell x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Your little sister is marrying her fairy tale princess on the exotic desert island nation of Dorne. Your soon-to-be sister-in-law’s playboy uncle is the other member of the wedding party along with you, but will your opposite approaches to life drive you apart before the ceremony even begins? Or is it possibly the beginning of a future you never thought possible?

Rating: Teen for the chapter, but this is an 18+ blog! Word Count: 14.5k Warnings: *Some instances of reader being pig-headedly stubborn and some ‘ugly American’ moments, but we learn and grow in this house. Another one of our patented shitty families.* Vague discussions of politics, pregnancy, pregnancy cravings, Aja being an absolute menace, Oberyn is also a menace but in a much more evil way, confessions/secrets, Karen-like behaviour, talk of cheating/domestic discord, but in general just a metric fuck-ton of fluff. Summary: Aja brings a surprise up to the mountains, and a very different surprise walks through the door back in NYC. Notes: This is it, guys! Next week is the epilogue. ✨💖 Thank you so much to everyone who came along for this journey and fell in love with this beautiful family. And a giant, jumping, excited WELCOME TO THE FANDOM to my work sis Aja - who granted us the use of her name for this lovely character before ever having read a word of fanfic.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Epilogue

Lily and Aja arranged for the car to drive up to see your parents. Living in the city was too expensive to justify the cost of garaging a car, so the SUV they had arranged was definitely far different than what Lily normally would have gotten. Since their marriage, she had officially become a part of the royal family and was given a living expense account that she’s sure they will never spend all of so it’s good to be able to indulge a bit on the trip back home.

“You’re in charge of renting cars for the rest of our lives,” you joke halfway through the three-hour drive. Lily is playing deejay on the complex sound system while Aja snacks on yet another dried-seafood smelling shrimp chip from yesterday’s trip to Koreatown. They had come with you to your doctor’s appointment this morning, but only after playing a round of Will these weird smells make our pregnant sister sick. Aja had declared herself the winner when her obscure chip flavours survived the game.

“I have no problem with that.” She grins over at you before sliding her hand into Aja’s chip bag to steal one. “Why should we drive when someone else can?”

“Where is this guy going to hang out for two more days before we go back to the city?” The divider is up, separating the three of you in the back of the car from your driver, but you still instinctively lower your voice to try not to be rude. “Is your travel budget going to cover his motel room or something?” There are intricacies of the whole allowance thing that you don’t really understand, and you’ve never asked about a number, so you truly are clueless as to how the whole thing works.

Aja gives a small laugh and nods. “Yes, the service provides for lodging and meals for our driver while we are here.” She tells you. “Although he can always go back to the city and come pick us up in two days if he wished.”

“He might be better off.” From your own bag, you’re snacking on Cheez-Its like it’s the last food on earth, digging out the last crumbs from the box you had only opened this morning. “There’s not much to do in the mountains.”

“He’s not going to.” Aja tells you. “He gets paid to sit in a hotel, eat out and watch tv.” She snorts. “It’s his own vacation.”

“I’d take that job in a heartbeat.” You hum at the idea of being paid to relax despite knowing you’d be bored within hours. “Me and all the Cheez-its in a twenty-mile radius.”

“First pregnancy craving.” Lily squeals happily and reaches over into the over large bag she had stuffed with snack to pull out two more boxes of Cheez-Its. “Pizza flavor or regular?” She demands, holding them up for you to choose.

“Regular!” The way your eyes light up at seeing the boxes is comical and Lily is completely right. The way you’ve been chowing down on the salty snack lately definitely qualifies it as your first craving. “Save the pizza for a couple of hours from now when I’m pouting over Mom’s inevitable lecture on restraint that will be seven weeks too late.”

“I also brought a couple cans of Pringle’s.” She confides in a low voice. “Sour cream and onion and salt and vinegar.”

“You’re my favourite sister.” You tell her in the completely deadpan voice you always save just for that statement and immediately laughing afterward. “We all packed so many snacks. I have a whole bag of Australian licorice and an unopened box of hot and spicy Cheez-Its in my weekender.”

Aja giggles and shakes her head. “Cheez-Its are definitely a must for this baby.” She muses fondly. “I wonder when your fruit craving will start. All of the mothers had intense fruit cravings.”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” Popping a few of the cheesy, salty crackers in your mouth, you sit back in your seat and ruminate on the question a little while you chew. “It’s a good thing summer’s coming, I guess. If I’m going to have fruit cravings, at least the fruit will be at its peak.”

“I will have Dornish plums sent to you.” Aja decides. “They are amazing and one of my own favorites. As well as Oberyn’s.”

There’s no use pretending the gesture is anything less than sweet, or that it doesn’t make you ache a little in spite of that sweetness. “Thanks.” You reach across Lily and squeeze Aja’s hand gently.

The rest of the drive goes by quickly, only a few comments made about the fact that you plowed through the entire box of Cheez-Its. Soon the car is turning into the familiar driveway of your parent’s house, making Lily reach for your hand to reassure you. “We’ll be right here.”

“Should I just pull the bandage off right away?” You stare at the massive outdoor staircase that leads up to the front door of your parents’ house and genuinely consider sneaking in through the basement-level garage but that really would qualify as pure cowardice.

"I wouldn't walk in the door and announce it." Lily tells you seriously. "But the question of why everyone is here is bound to come up and that would be your queue." She squeezes your hand again and Aja pulls out here phone when it dings, checking a message.

“Here goes nothing, I guess.” With a loaded sigh, you square your shoulders and climb out of the car. Lily is right behind you while Aja gives instructions to the driver before catching up with you. The earthy smell of the woods and the babbling of the small stream that runs in back of your childhood home are welcoming comforts on a day when you’re about to tell them that everything is changing - just as much of a comfort as your father’s two giant mutts barking and howling their hellos from the back porch. “The welcoming committee.” You joke as you turn to head for the back of the house instead of the front door. If the dogs are out, then your parents probably are too.

“I will get the bags inside.” Aja offers, knowing the front door will be unlocked. “You two walk around back and greet your parents.” She moves over to the few small bags that the three of you had packed for a weekend in the mountains.

“Where are my boys?” From the top of the porch steps, the two giant Golden Saint dogs that your parents have had since you were in high school are bouncing up and down with absolute joy to see more of their pack at home. Even if they’re getting a bit older now, the slobbering sweet dogs are still your favorite cuddle buddies.

“They are wherever your father is, as always.” Your mother is sitting in her favorite Adirondack chair with a book of crossword puzzles and a midafternoon cup of coffee while your father has veered in the direction of a bottle of Dr Pepper and a bowl of potato chips that he’s munching on while petting the dogs.

“How was the drive, girls?” She looks around for a second and her eyebrows pinch in confusion. “Aja didn’t come? We were looking forward to seeing all three of you.”

"She's taking the bags into the house." Lily explains, coming over to hug her father, who has lumbered out of his on chair with a groan before leaning over your mother's chair to kiss her cheek. "Hey mom." Coming home was both relaxing and stressful, good memories intertwined with those of awkwardness and disagreements, but this was home.

“Hi sweetie.” Your mother squeezes Lily’s shoulders gently and returns her kiss before giving you the same greeting. You go say hello to your father right after, and plop inelegantly down on the porch with the dogs. “Not that we don’t love a surprise, but what’s the occasion?”

“We can’t just want to see our parents?” You ask, trying for an air of innocence but knowing that it falls woefully short. Both of your parents shoot you ‘you could but you don’t’ looks and you laugh at having your bluff called. “Fine. I have some news. But it can wait until dinner. Lily and Aja’s honeymoon photos are an absolute sight to behold.”

"Are you alright?" Your mother's frown is one of concern, trying very hard to change her own behaviors that are so quick to rise to the surface. Normally she would demand to know what was going on, but her part of building a better relationship with you was patience. "I'll wait as long as you can assure me you are okay."

“I’m totally fine.” And so is the baby, supplies your mind, but you shove your hand under your leg to keep from rubbing your still-unsuspecting stomach. “Really, the photos are gorgeous. They’re worth seeing.”

"Alright." There is still a worried look on her face, but she doesn't push the issue. "There's still coffee in the pot if you want a cup."

“No thanks.” God yes. You’d love it, but the little sand snake means it’s no longer an option. “We snacked on the way up, I might explode if I put anything else in my system.” That’s the explanation you give, anyway, to soothe your mother’s surprise. Seeing you turn down coffee is like seeing one of the dogs turn down a treat.

She hums but doesn't comment. Instead, she turns to Lily with a smile. "So, your honeymoon. Did you have a good time?" She asks. "I looked up the resort you were at and it looks beautiful."

“I didn’t want to leave.” Lily sighs happily, easily pulling focus away from you so you can relax a little before dropping your bomb on the family. She has a whole album of photos on her phone to share and a small handful of PG rated stories. Once those run out, you’re on your own.

“I could imagine. Lots of sunshine, like Dorne, I’ve noticed.” Your mother takes a sip of her coffee and looks out at the mountains. “You girls have always loved the hotter climates. I remember our trip to Florida. You both begged to move there.”

“I wanted to move to Florida, Lils wanted to move into Cinderella’s Castle.” You can’t help the smile that appears on your face, adoring that your little sister got her fairy tale that she always dreamt of. “She was very specific.”

Lily winks at Aja when she comes out onto the back deck. “Why do you think I went for a princess?” She teases, knowing that everyone knows that she had no clue who Aja was when they met and started dating. She just knew she was interested in the other girl.

Both dogs loll their heads in Aja’s direction and their tails start wagging immediately when she reaches down to scratch their heads. “That reminds me. Uncle Doran and Aunt Mel will be traveling by the time we get back, so we can have them at the new house when get back from Portugal.”

“I cannot believe a king and queen make house visits.” Your mother shakes her head, amazed at the difference between Dorne’s royal family and others. “But then again, didn’t Queen Elizabeth show up to someone’s wedding after getting an invitation?”

“Aja is second in line to the throne.” Lily reminds them proudly, glad to give her wife a soft kiss when the princess in question comes to sit down beside her. “Having the king and queen to dinner at our house would be like Queen Elizabeth going to have dinner with Will and Kate.”

“Forgive me for saying, but I hope that you never become queen.” She tells Aja, knowing that it will mean that the prince she had met would have been lost to the world. Along with his parents.

“Trystane will be a very capable king someday, and I look forward to supporting him.” It’s not even a diplomatic answer even though it sounds like it. Aja’s cousin Trystane may be young, but he has pride in his country and optimism for the future - two things which are key. “We have plenty of things to do now that Lily is officially part of the royal family. Uncle Doran has been picking out her royal patronage.”

“What does that mean?” Your mother asks, completely unaware of what goes on in a royal family.

“It means that I get to be an advocate.” Lily’s legs are tucked under her in her seat while she holds her wife’s hand. “I’ll be on the board of some charities and sponsor some organizations that the royal family supports.” She’s proud that Doran and Mellario are ready to trust her with actual royal duties and don’t just regard her as a supporting character in Aja’s life. She has been welcomed into the family with open arms and wants to make them proud. “The first few will probably be science and education related. I’m hoping to be patron to the royal hospitals if Doran agrees to it.” It all connects to everything she studied, and since her studies are what brought her and Aja together, it’s both sentimental and a point of pride.

“That’s incredible.” She’s proud of Lily, and reaches over to pat her husband’s hand. “Our girl is going to be important. Do good in the world.” She huffs and looks back at Lily. “Just don’t become like our politicians.”

“I’m not a politician at all.” Lily returns her mother’s gesture and beams at Aja. “I’m a politician’s wife. And Aja’s new patronage is an organization for queer kids who are having trouble at home. Everything from discreet therapy and help hotlines to funding shelters and resource centers across the country for kids who have been kicked out or disowned.”

“That will be right up your alley.” Your mom comments, your dad nodding in agreement. “Although your family is wonderfully…open…not all are.” She muses, more tactful that she would have been and there is not a hint of disapproval in the comment. Since telling you about her past, at her husband’s insistence, she’s started seeing a therapist.

“We are trying to use that openness to set an example of tolerance and acceptance for our people.” Aja glances at you slightly, not wanting to say anything but believing in her heart since your announcement a few days ago that you are more family than ever. “The world is changing fast, and it can be hard to keep up with sometimes. But we don’t want any Dornish children to fall through the cracks.”

“Children are innocent and shouldn’t have to suffer because of adult small mindedness.” She hums. “I owe you and Lily an apology for my behavior at your wedding.” She shifts slightly and squeezes her husband’s hand for reassurance. “I realize I was not the best at times and I’m sorry if I caused a moment of unhappiness. And….” She sighs. “I’ve thought about what you have said, Lily. If you and Aja decide not to have children, I won’t say a word about it.” She promises. The disappointment in not having a grandchild is fierce, but she also didn’t want to lose her kids.

“It’s not just our decision.” Lily slides off her seat to hug her mother tightly, knowing that it can’t be easy at all for her to say these things and actually mean them. “If we adopted, the laws about the line of succession get dicey. And if we chose to use a sperm donor so Aja could carry our baby, whoever that man is who is our donor becomes attached to the royal family permanently. They have to be carefully screened and make it through all kinds of background checks. It’s…a lot to ask of someone.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way before.” She admits, hugging her daughter back fiercely. “I just want you to be happy. All three of you because Aja is my daughter now too.” She looks over at her daughter-in-law over Lily’s shoulder and gives her a smile.

“We are happy.” Aja assured her, lifting one arm for Lily to cuddle into her side when she comes to sit back down. “We promise.”

There couldn’t be a clearer or more obviously appropriate time for your news, since you’re all on the subject anyway, and you glance over at Lily and Aja nervously before digging into your purse for the carefully wrapped framed sonogram photo you brought from the city. “Since we’re on the topic of happiness.” You exhale carefully, willing the sudden feeling of terrified nausea to subside as you hand your mother the little parcel. “I brought you guys something.”

“Honey.” You dad shakes his head and sighs. “You coming home is all the gift we need.” He promises, making your mother hum in agreement even though she’s already opening the package. “Oh, a picture frame. And—” she stops and stares at it for a long moment before she looks up and her eyes find yours.

“Surprise.” You manage, much more weakly than you’re proud of. It’s still such huge news and every time you say it out loud it’s like processing it for the first time all over again. “You’re going to be grandparents.”

“Oh...” For once in her life, she speechless, looking back down at the photo before your dad reaches over to take the frame from her hands. “Oh!” She looks at you again, her face a combination of delight and concern as she realizes when this must have happened. “Oh baby.” She gets up out of the chair and moves over to you. “Are you okay? How do you feel about it? Does he know?” She asks as she wraps her arms around you.

You’re frozen for a full thirty seconds before hugging her back with all your might, and making a mental note to send your mother’s new therapist a basket of expensive wine and chocolate because she is a miracle worker. There is no yelling, only support and concern, and you’re so grateful that your tears are almost instant. “I’m okay.” You sniffle, looking over her shoulder to get a beat on your dad’s reaction. “But I, uh…I don’t know if I’m going to tell him. I haven’t decided…”

Your dad is staring down at the photo, a quiet sniffle coming from the silent man, and he reaches out to touch the picture. “A grand baby.” He murmurs to himself.

There’s a surprised squeak from your mom, but she cuts herself off before she can give unsolicited opinions. “It’s your choice.”

“I know you’re disappointed about how it happened.” The look you give your mother says you appreciate that she didn’t say it even though you know it’s true. “But having my parents support me in this will mean a lot.”

“Of course we are going to support you.” That comes out of her mouth instead of anything else. “You are our daughter. And you’re going to become a mother of your own child.” She sniffles slightly and looks back at your dad. “I remember when I was pregnant with you like it was yesterday.”

“She’s got her first craving.” Lily pipes up, wanting the conversation to stay fun and upbeat. If she can steer your parents towards the silly things right now instead of the hard or scary ones - at least for today - then she’ll have done her job as your cheerleading little sister. You’ve been all alone in this and scared for weeks now. It’s time to start looking forward to things.

“What were you craving?” Your mom asks, smiling at the idea of you already experiencing some of the fun things of pregnancy.

“Cheez-its.” It feels silly, but it has you cracking a slow-growing grin and you can finally let your hands rest on your unchanged belly. “I was hoping it would be something I could at least make new recipes around, but I went straight to snack food.”

You mom blinks and then laughs. “Oh, I craved potato chips when I was expecting you. Lays original and chocolate ice cream together.”

“Oooh,” your eyes blow wide and Lily snorts. “That sounds really good.”

“Don’t give her ideas, dear.” Your dad chuckles and stands up, groaning as he gets out of his chair again. Coming over to you and when your mother pulls away, he takes her place hugging you. “Had me going out to the convenience store two towns over at one in the morning for a bag of chips and a carton of ice cream.”

“I’ll have to make sure my kitchen is always stocked with possibilities.” Thankfully, life in New York City means almost anything can be at your fingertips if you’re willing to go for a walk, but that doesn’t mean you want to be out walking the streets at two in the morning. The dogs all but lay on top of you to get in on being hugged, and you and your father both scratch them behind the ears reflexively. “My doc says everything looks great and I’m taking my vitamins and her instructions seriously. It’s just…it surprised the hell out of me. I’ve only known for about two weeks now.”

“Are you experiencing any nausea?” Your mom asks. “I have some peppermint tea if you are.”

“So far it’s when I get tired, I’ll get nauseous too.” It was odd to connect the dots - thinking you had been ignoring your eating habits and letting yourself get too hungry, but it was actually the pregnancy. “So I’m trying to respect the idea that naptime might be a very real thing for the next eight-ish months.”

“Oh it will be.” Your mother strokes your back and smiles. “It’s hard work, growing a human. Takes a lot out of you.” She bites her lip and pauses before she opens her mouth again. “Sweetheart, your life, your work is hectic.” She ventures. “If you need to come home during this, you say the word.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You lean into her side as easily as you used to do when you were a kid, grateful that this conversation went nothing like you expected. “I’m not sure what I’ll need yet, but I’ll call. I’ll keep you updated with calls and text you sonogram photos and everything.”

“I know I’ve made mistakes with you girls.” Your mom murmurs bashfully. “But I love you and I’m proud of you no matter what.”

“We love you, too.” The quiet surprise on Lily’s face assures you that you can speak for her, too, and she moves across the porch again to wrap her arms around your mother in turn.

“Why don’t we all go inside and decide what we are going to do for dinner?” Your mom asks. “Your dad needs to set up the fireplace and I’ll boil some water for tea.”

******

“No place good will be open,” your father protests the idea of going out, knowing that the options nearby are limited. “I’m not a pro like somebody over here.” He pokes you teasingly. “But you girls have never said no to my bacon cheeseburgers.”

Lily groans slightly, mouth watering at the idea of her dad’s cheeseburgers. “Still have that ground venison?” She asks.

“He’s got more than we can possibly eat.” Your mother looks positively relieved to have some of it eaten by a person other than her. “I can run into town and get some buns, and tortilla chips and salsa to go with it?” She knows Aja likes spice, so her normal potato chips and French onion dip won’t go over as well, but she doesn’t mind going an extra step or two to make all of you happy. “And maybe some root beer?”

“That sounds good to me.” Lily agrees immediately and looks over at you with a grin. “Add some better cheese than Kraft to the list for our chef.” She teases.

You practically pout at Lily, but still mumble, “Sharp cheddar goes well with venison,” against the rim of your mug before taking a sip of tea.

“Sharp cheddar. Right.” Moving over to the counter, she collects her purse and her keys. “Anything else you want?”

“No. Thanks, Mom.” You’re already planning on making a big batch of cookies for everyone tomorrow afternoon, but basic baking ingredients are always in the house. “We appreciate it.”

Opening the door, she makes a noise of surprise. “Are you expecting someone? There’s an SUV coming up the driveway.”

“That’s probably just our driver.” Lily shrugs, looping her arm around her wife on the sofa. “Big honking black car with tinted windows, right? The guy probably went into town to check into his hotel room and came back.”

“It is.” She nods and looks back at the three of you. “Maybe you left something in the car?” She suggests.

“I’ll go check.” You hop up off the couch before anyone can protest and wrap your cardigan around your shoulders to ward off the evening mountain chill. Down the front steps to the sunken driveway at the bottom of the hill your house was built on, you can’t see the car until you reach the gravel path and then it’s all too clear that this is not a simple ‘sweater left behind in the car’ situation.

“Oberyn…”

Watching him climb out of the car feels like you’ve just been punched in the gut, with tears instantly pressing at your eyes. You are going to KILL Aja.

At first he was unsure if the directions were accurate, Aja sending him the address. But seeing you on the porch, looking like you’ve seen a ghost, makes him both nervous and relieved. The call he had gotten days ago from his niece had told him that he needed to come to New York, now. If he loved you, he needed to get his ass on the jet and come. He had landed in Albany an hour and a half ago and been eager to see you immediately. “Iris.” He keeps his eye on you as he starts walking up the path to the door. “I decided to deliver my promise of books for your mother’s book club personally.” He jokes with a warm smile. “The author was busy.”

“Th-that’s…not why you’re…why you’re here.” The words are halting, stumbling over each other and unfamiliar, like you’re not even speaking them. “Aja called you.”

“She did.” Oberyn nods, frowning when you don’t seem at all pleased to see him. It’s not quite the reunion he was expecting after finally figuring out what it was that he wanted. “Was she mistaken?” He asks softly. “Should I leave?”

“No.” Stepping down two more steps, you’re on even footing with him. He looks exactly the same - same dark chocolate hair and plush lips and broad shoulders, but he looks a little…sad? You’re probably imagining that. “No…she called you for a perfectly salient reason. I just—” You’re just going to kill her. “I asked her not to tell you anything. So, I’m a little upset.”

“Tell me anything?” Oberyn shakes his head and looks past you to where Aja is standing in the doorway. “She told me to get my head out of my ass and come tell you how I feel.”

It’s easy to follow his eyes - he’s to bewildered to be subtle - and you turn around to see Aja by the door. “Tell my dad there’s one more person for dinner. You and I will talk later.” You tell her in your patented older sister you fucked up tone before turning back to Oberyn. How he feels? What the hell could that possibly do to affect things? Suddenly every bit of you hurts, like an ache that won’t let go. “Come on.” You shake your head at him. “Leave your stuff in the garage and let’s go for a walk.”

Oberyn helps the driver stack a few boxes of books and he brings his suitcase out. The driver hands him his card and for a moment he wonders if he should have left Dorne. He doesn’t like this feeling of unease he has. You act like he is the last person you wanted to see. When he’s done, he turns back to you and glances around. “It’s colder up here than in the city.” He comments.

“It’s the mountains.” Your impulse to offer to go back in the house doesn’t hold, instead you easily slip out of your overlarge sweater and offer it to him. “We can go inside in a little bit, but…I’d rather have this conversation alone.” Now that you know it’s going to happen - he’s here in front of you, how can you not tell him? - you genuinely don’t know what you want him to say. Perhaps…whatever is meant to happen will happen. With no expectation.

He huffs, shaking his head and looking at you like you offended his mother. “I’m not taking your sweater, Iris.” He tells you, pushing it back in your direction gently. “I mean it, I can go back to Dorne. I had imagined you would be happy to see me.”

“I need to talk to you.” You wrap yourself back in the safety of your favorite sweater and take a step toward the backyard. “I just…I hadn’t made up my mind if I was ready to yet. That’s why I’m upset. It’s not because you’re here, I…” Swallow the pride and stubbornness, woman. “I am happy to see you…I’m just a few other things, too.”

That tone doesn’t seem like it’s especially positive. Oberyn looks out towards the mountains, the easy reunion he had imagine whisked away like a puff of smoke. “I was set to be married once.” He announces, unable to look at you. “An arranged marriage.”

“O—okay…” You go first then, that’s fine. He’s starting to talk and you skip two steps to keep up with him. “That didn’t happen, I take it? You said the royal family doesn’t allow divorces.”

“Obviously not. It couldn’t have happened.” He sighs, hands in his pockets. “She’s a lovely woman. Charming, beautiful, anything a man could want, but there was no way I was going to marry her.” He explains.

“Why not?” Your own posture mirrors his, hands in your jeans as you walk side by side.

“Because she is in love with my brother.” He chuckles, looking over at you for the first time since you started walking. “And he was -is- desperately in love with her.”

“Mellario?” The surprise on your face is obvious, with your eyebrows up at your hairline and pinched together. But you had seen them together several times - his brother and sister-in-law - and no one in the world could deny how crazy they are about each other. “That, um…that explains her remark at the wedding.” And to think…you had wondered if they had a history. Yes. Yes they absolutely do. “About loving siblings doing anything for each other.”

“Yes.” He looks back towards the trail. “I vowed that I would not marry, not her, not anyone until my brother had secured his heir.” He gives a small shrug. “It broke the agreement my grandfather made with hers when we were babes and left them free to be together.”

“But Trystane is a teenager.” Your eyebrows shoot down again, furrowing. “You could have married anytime you wanted.”

He smiles, ironically. “Ellaria is as much a free spirit as I was. Not to be tied down. Especially given that a divorce would never be granted.”

“Was?” Oberyn chooses his words carefully, you learned that over your time with him. Unlike you and your notable history of blurting things out at random.

His smile morphs into one that is more pleased by the fact that you caught his wording. “I came here not only to give your mother the books, but to give you something as well.” From the inside of his jacket pocket, he pulls out an envelope and hands it to you.

“What’s this?” For the last few days you’ve been the one handing surprises to other people, so you weren’t expecting this. He looks at you like It wouldn’t be any fun if I told you, and you roll your eyes. That fond warmth is seeping back into your bones the longer he’s next to you and it’s only going to make this conversation harder.

The envelope is sealed with wax like some kind of ancient decree, and you slip the wax seal away from the base of the envelope with only a small tear. There’s a single piece of paper inside, and your minimal Dornish comprehension isn’t great, but you know the word for restaurant, the listing of square footage, the address in the Old City district of Sunspear, and his name signed at the bottom with a flourish all add up to you being very confused. “What is—” You look up at him from the page curiously. “Did you…buy a restaurant?”

Oberyn smirks, looking down at the paper and then back at you. “I believe you once told me that Lily joked that you should be proposed to with the deed to a restaurant.” He murmurs.

“Oberyn…” Never in a million years could you have dreamt that he would surprise you more than you’re likely to surprise him. “Is—are you—” You feel like you’re about to pass out from the way your heart is beating and all the thoughts swirling around in your head, but you can’t stop staring between him and the paper. Say yes, you moron! your heart screams in spite of your head. “We barely know each other…”

“But we do.” Oberyn insists, reaching for you and taking hold of your arms. “We do know each other. I know the way that the morning light looks kissing your skin and the way that you blink owlishly when you are sleepy, but you don’t want to admit it.” He rubs your arms and licks his lips. “I’ve missed you. In my kitchen, in my bed, in my life. Iris, I have wanted you back since the second you stepped on that plane. You are the flower that I did not know was missing from my life and wish to see you bloom by my side.”

The freight train of emotions slamming into you is too much, and the water brimming behind your eyes spills over just a little, splashing onto his shirt ever so briefly when you sink into his arms. There is nothing about any of this situation that you could have possibly prepared yourself for and yet it has never been more important that you answer a question before in your life. Sniffling back actual tears, you hug Oberyn tight before leaning back to look into his face. “Before I—I will answer you, but you have to—” You shake your head, trying to remember how to form a sentence. “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widen in delight, and he looks down at your stomach before looking back up at you. He has questions of course; it answers the primary one of what you weren’t ready for him to know. “That’s wonderful.” He rushes out, a wide grin on his face.

“That’s why Aja called you.” God, he really is just endlessly handsome. Especially when he smiles. “I asked her not to say anything…I had barely just found out and it’s terrifying but at the same time I’m starting to get really excited but I swore to myself that I wouldn’t ask you for anything and now you’re here and you’re asking me things and I just—” A great, shuddering, gasping sigh breaks out of you and for the first time in all of this you feel truly, utterly, freely happy. “I—I love you, Oberyn. And I know that that wasn’t part of our arrangement. But I realized it happened really quickly, so I just decided to try to love the memory of that week instead and I…well, it didn’t work. I fell in love with you that week, and I…I was scared. I’m still scared. I’m scared and rambling.” A laugh hiccups its way out of your throat and you can’t stop smiling, seeing the absolute joy on his face.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, pulling you close and crushing the deed to the restaurant between the two of you. “You will become my princess?”

“Are you sure?” Your voice is small, nearly a whisper as you look up at him in concern. “You’ve gone this long without getting married.” The finality of it doesn’t scare you. You always figured that if that mysterious day came when you actually got married, it would be forever. Til death do you part. But he’s lived so freely for so long, the last thing you want is for the person you love to feel trapped by you in any way. You pull back slightly, searching his eyes for a moment. “I want to be with you.” Finally saying that out loud is a weight lifted from your chest. “We don’t have to get married.”

He sighs and bites his lip. “Do you want to be with other people? Bring others into our bed?” He asks.

“No.” You tell him honestly, shaking your head. “But I know that you might sometimes, and I don’t want to keep you from being happy.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “I am happy with you.” He insists. “I have slept with one person since you. Selvin. And to be honest, it was not the same. I was thinking about you and have not fucked anyone since.”

It washes over you like a clean, cold rain, and your smile grows impossibly wider. “Ask me again,” you murmur, honestly just desperately wanting to hear the question from his lips in real life rather than your dreams.

“My love, my Iris, my sun, will you marry me?” From his pocket he pulls out a small red box, letting go of you so he can open it up to reveal the ring he has chosen for you. The deed was symbolic, both of your joke and of his commitment to you. If a restaurant is what your heart desires as a wedding proposal, he would do it, but he was a traditionalist in some senses. Wanting to have his ring on your finger.

“Yes.” Through watery eyes and a blanket of disbelief so thick you could wrap up in it, you surge forward to kiss him - finding that the most important thing you could possibly do in this moment. “Yes.”

His lips on yours was what he had been missing. Clutching you to him, the ring is forgotten while he takes over the kiss. Licking into your mouth with a moan when you open for him. Nothing outside of you and your embrace exists, just like it had been with you for that entire week. How he hopes for it to always be with you.

The sensation of time standing still has been lost since you left Dorne - but it turns out that it has much less to do with the country than it does with the man currently bundling you against him. Nothing can possibly be wrong when this is so wonderfully right. “Today has not been anything like I thought,” you admit, shrugging sheepishly when the two of you break apart for air.

“Is that a good thing or a bad one?” He asks, smirking at the fact that the deed is still in your hand but completely forgotten. His own elation of you accepting his proposal has him feeling a bit disoriented as well.

“We came up here to tell my parents.” You barely have to lean forward to kiss him again, keeping it short but reveling in the spark of having him close again. “I was expecting a lecture and maybe a dusting of I told you so. Instead, I got two fully supportive parents…and you.”

“Yes.” Oberyn nods, taking out the ring and reaching for your hand so that he can slide it on. To make sure he had not messed up your measurement. “As it should be. Although I’m surprised your mother did not come for my head.”

“She started therapy. My dad got her to agree to it. Seems like it’s been going really well.” The ring slips on to your finger perfectly, with both of you staring down at the beautiful pearl center of the diamond starburst ring. “It’s beautiful…” You breathe the words out like a sigh before looking back up at him. “I have a necklace I can wear it on while I’m working. To keep it safe.” A gift like this is far too precious to be knocked around a restaurant kitchen, but you’ll also be damned if you ever aren’t wearing it somehow.

His hand squeezes yours and he bends down to kiss your knuckle over the ring before he lets go to slide his hand over your belly. “My ninth little sand snake.” He coos, rubbing your stomach. “Have you been good for your momma?”

“So far, so good.” Hearing him talk to the baby - the man should probably have a Ph.D. in talking to babies at this point - makes you sniffle again, and you put your hand softly over his. “I haven’t known for very long. Just two weeks. But, um…I had a doctor’s appointment this morning. Everything looks good and I started my prenatal care. And…I-I have a sonogram picture if you want to see. I mean I know you’ve seen plenty of them before so it’s not a brand-new phenomenon or anything but—” You clamp your mouth shut when you realize you’re rambling again. “Let’s go back to the house?”

He chuckles, cupping your cheek and nudging his nose against yours before he kisses you softly. “Of course I want to see our baby.” He promises you. “You have nothing to worry about. I understand what’s going on and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

Sliding your hand into his is comforting and easy, and you lead him back to the house with a soft tug. “How long can you stay?” It occurs to you that you suddenly have a hell of a lot to do, and don’t really know where to begin. So, you’ll begin with him. “We just got here a couple of hours ago and had planned on staying a few days before heading back to the City.”

“Until you send me away or I have you on the plane with me to go back to Dorne.” Oberyn tells you. “It’s why I did not show up while you were still in the city, I was clearing my schedule. I am at your service.” He promises with a grin. His exact words to Doran were ‘I’ll be back when my Iris is back.’.

“I’m not going to send you away.” You didn’t actually wander too far from the house - just out to the stream along the tree line - and you’re back at the garage in no time. “I promised Chef that I would help a little extra at the restaurant for a few weeks. His sister is sick and she’s moving in with him and his wife so she can be looked after. I can’t go back on that promise, especially if I’m going to be leaving. Do you have that much time to spare? Two or three weeks?”

“There is internet in your apartment, right?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. “I can work from there if I need to. Or visit the Embassy.”

“And you can come to the restaurant while I’m at work if you want.” It wouldn’t be the first time that someone in the kitchen had a friend or family member hang out to use the WiFi and it definitely won’t be the last. “I guess…I can tell my landlord I’ll be gone at the end of the month, too. Since…” You look up at him quizzically. “Since I don’t want you to displace your girls’ memories, so I guess I’m moving into your suite in the palace?”

“If you want, or we could choose another suite, or renovate it together.” He offers, knowing you might have some issues with living where he had lived with Ellaria and had countless lovers. It was one thing to be his guest, a temporary lover, it was another to be his wife.

“Maybe we can think about renovations, but that’s your home.” Squeezing his hand in yours makes the weight of the ring very apparent on your finger and you smile. “That’s where we made our first memories together, too. Besides, your kitchen is to die for.”

He grins. “You’re just marrying me for my kitchen, aren’t you?”

“I’m marrying you because I love you.” Words you absolutely never thought you would say, but here they are dripping from your tongue with glee. “Your kitchen is a beautiful bonus.”

“Would you have told me?” He asks, making sure that your hand is firmly in his as you walk back towards the house. “If I had not come. Would you have used the phone number I programmed into your phone while you were sleeping?”

“Yes.” You can breathe now, and admit it to yourself that you had wanted to tell him all along. It was fear that stopped you. “Because of something Lily said.”

“What did she say?” He’s curious to know what could possibly change your mind. He’s seen firsthand how stubborn you can be and he admires it in a sense.

“That if it turned out to be a boy, then I would be keeping you from your only son.” Your eyes flick up to his carefully, and you know he can see the guilt there. For not calling him right away. For even considering keeping it from him at all. “I’ve been thinking about it for days. The baby’s gender doesn’t matter. They’re your child and you should be able to know them. I just…hadn’t built up the courage to call yet.”

“I understand.” Oberyn does, he’s had a couple of the women he had children with hesitate in telling him for different reasons. “I am happy you told me.” He smiles. “Don’t be too angry at Aja, she just told me that I needed to come and tell you that I was a, and I quote, ‘a pathetically mopey mess without you’. End quote.”

How could you possibly stay mad when she was ultimately completely right? She knew what you needed - what he needed - and she acted accordingly to make sure you both got it. You might be a bit annoyed that this conversation was thrust on you, but how can you possibly be mad with how it turned out? “She said you’re writing again?”

He rolls his eyes but nods. “Painful stuff.” He muses.

“Painful like…pathetically mopey painful?” You ask, not bothering to mask the tease or the hope in your voice as you start to tote his things up the stairs together. “She seemed to be sure it was a sign you were pining for me.”

“The only reason you are allowed to carry that is because it’s light.” He warns you. “And she’s completely right. I was pining. Considered beating your flight back to New York.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t come to the restaurant.” You tease him gently, knowing you’ll be working much harder at your job than he might like. But you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek at the front porch of the house. “I have to be honest, love. I cried the whole flight home. The flight attendants must have thought I was at a funeral except that I saw some of them looking at a tabloid that definitely had a photo of us in it.”

“Ah yes, I saw all of them. I am sure they plied you with drinks and apologies, thinking I had broken your heart.” He gives a small chuckle. “If they only knew I was just as miserable.”

“Drinks that I apparently should not have accepted.” The amount of times you checked with your doctor about your alcohol intake in your baby’s first few weeks of life had actually made the generally kind middle-aged woman groan, promising you repeatedly that everything was perfectly fine. At the front door to the house, you stop and offer him a smile. “Ready?”

Oberyn smiles at you, his hand in yours and he nods towards the door teasingly. “Am I going to be met with a shotgun for a famous shotgun wedding for ruining their daughter?” He jokes.

“There’s no shotgun for the man who already proposed.” Gently patting the pocket of your cardigan where the deed to the restaurant - you absolutely can’t believe he did that - sits, you push the door open and let him in first. Those boxes definitely look heavy, and he’s got two of them in his arms.

Lily immediately pokes her head out from the kitchen where she was helping your dad patty out burgers and she grins. “I knew there would be another for dinner. Hope you like venison burgers, Oberyn.” She calls out with a wink.

“Did Mom leave?” You set Oberyn’s suitcase by the stairs. It can be brought up to your room later and he can tease you about all your girly things from growing up, then. “We were in the backyard. Didn’t see if the car left.”

“Yeah, she’s gone.” Lily rolls her eyes. “Almost didn’t leave, just in case. But I reminded her that we are out of Cheez-Its. And that made her sling rocks in the driveway.” She giggles.

Oberyn looks confused and you smile as he sets the boxes by the front door. “My first craving,” you explain.

“Oh, I see.” He chuckles and reaches over to rest his hand on your stomach. “We will have to make sure we keep them stocked for you then. Until you start craving something else.”

“Aja says fruit is next.” Your sister-in-law is nowhere in sight, but you have a feeling she’s not far away. Probably hiding just out of sight at the kitchen counter. “Isn’t that right, Aj?”

Her head pops out immediately, as if she had just been waiting for this. “Oh, are you speaking to me again?” She asks with a very pleased grin on her face. “I could have sworn I was in trouble with you.”

“I’m annoyed that you skirted around my asking you not to say anything, but I can’t be mad at you for doing the right thing.” Pacing across the room, you easily throw your arms around her and give her a quick but intense hug. “Thank you.”

She pulls away after the hug was over. “You were being an idiot. And so was my uncle…. auntie.” She giggles. “Slash sister-in-law.”

“Auntie??” Lily’s head pops up from the counter again so fast it looks like she should get whiplash and your father’s eyes open wide.

“If my eyes aren’t mistake, your sister is wearing some jewelry she wasn’t before.” Aja tells her wife with a very smug tone. “Specifically on the left hand.”

When Lily nearly jumps away from the counter you step back and point one solid finger at her. “No raw venison on the pregnant lady or my brand-new engagement ring. Wash your hands and then you can screech and hug us all you want.”

Oberyn chuckles at your orders and how quickly Lily rushes to obey your order. Moving over to Aja and giving her a hug. “Thanks brat.” He murmurs, kissing her head.

“Did you do the other thing?” Aja whispers, not wanting to ruin an extra surprise or peak anyone’s interest if it wasn’t happening.

Nodding, he looks over where Lily is practically smothering your in a hug. “She has the deed.” He confirms with a grin. “Still don’t have a clue what she actually thinks about that though.”

“She probably doesn’t think it’s real.” Aja chuckles, hugging her uncle tightly. “That sounds like a good pillow talk conversation for later. Once her mom gets back I guarantee it’s going to be wedding planning all over again.” She remembers announcing her and Lily’s engagement very clearly, and how Lily’s mother had had a host of very specific ideas that had to be tactfully shot down or adapted to fit a royal Dornish wedding.

He snorts and shakes his head. “We will have to see if she wants to do it before the baby or after.” He wouldn’t care about when you get married, but he can understand that you might. As long as you walk down an aisle towards him, he would do it tomorrow for all it mattered.

“All the menu will be full of her cravings.” She laughs, nudging him toward where you are being smothered by your sister and tearful father. “I’m glad we won’t have to break up the sisters after all.”

“Yes.” He smiles at you as your hug ends with your father and holds his hand out to the man to shake. “I am sorry for showing up unannounced.” He offers. He won’t apologize for the baby in your belly or for asking you to marry him without your father’s approval.

Your father is generally as stubborn as any other member of this family, but he will cave on nearly anything that makes his girls happy - and right now you are beaming. “Family is always welcome.” He tells the man that he has had plenty of doubts about before. But he showed up here today and did right by you. That’s enough.

******

Sunspear is not a small city. There is congestion and traffic and all of the perks and headaches that comes with city living. It’s bustling and thriving. But Oberyn honestly believes that nothing will ever match the energy of New York City.

It’s been two weeks since you have come back from your parents. Two weeks of living in your small – tiny – apartment and going through what you want to bring to Dorne. Oberyn is often with you, either at the restaurant where you are finishing up your obligation, or walking the streets with you and getting a firsthand view of the real city. Beyond the tourist spots, much like he had done for you in Dorne. Tonight, however, it’s his turn to take you out. To show you the Dornish restaurant he had told you about so early in your trip. “Here we are.” He grins as he sees flag on the awning. “Best Dornish food to be found outside the country.”

“Can I tell you something very sappy?” You lean into his side as you walk down the street, having decided that a long walk was preferable to the subway just this one time.

“What is that?” He tightens his arm around you. It’s still brisk enough for a jacket, especially since he is used to much warmer climates, but he has enjoyed this time with you. Dressed casually in jeans and a Henley that you swore makes him look sexy.

“I spent the first couple of weeks after coming home from Dorne almost getting food from here nearly every day before swearing off it.” It had hurt your heart to do absolutely anything that reminded you of him, but thank god that hurt was over. “It just made me miss you.”

“Do you know how many times I turned down making limoncello mousse?” He turns and kisses your head. “But I am happy that I am getting to show you the food.”

“We’re just great big saps for each other.” You slip your hand around his waist before he pulls the door of the restaurant open and step inside with him easily. Things have been going well. Very well, honestly. Oberyn fits into the rhythm of your life well and you hope you’ll be able to fit into his just as easily when you arrive in Dorne next week. He’s been by your side, supportive and loving and doting on you and the baby at every step. All you want is to be able to give him the same.

It’s very clear that the woman behind the hostess stand recognizes Oberyn, from the way her eyes widen to her choked gasp. Ignoring that, he gives her a charming smile. “I was hoping that you could seat us for dinner?” He asks hopefully. The restaurant is busy, which he will take as a great sign for the immigrant family from his home country.

“Uh—of…of course!” She is flustered, not sure if she should curtsy or bow or try not to show that she recognizes him at all, but she plucks two menus out of the hostess stand and beckons for you to follow her. There seems to be only one empty table in the whole place but it is a big, rounded booth in a corner by the windows that ensures you will have minimal interruptions and be able to enjoy both the ambience of the restaurant and the bustle of the city just outside. If tabloids knew him here, you would be swamped at this table, but fortunately for your quiet dinner plans that isn’t the case. It’s not until you get back to Dorne that you’ll be sought after by cameras again.

“Thank you.” Oberyn smiles at the flustered girl, nodding his head politely.

“I—you’re welcome. Your server will be right with you.” She ends up doing a small curtsy and dashing away, no doubt to let everyone in the back know that the Prince of Dorne was sitting at one of their tables.

“You just gave her the best story she’ll tell all year.” You grin at him, sliding into the booth first at his insistence. “The prince of Dorne in her restaurant. And she spoke to you.” Hell, if you were her, you would be telling that story for the rest of your life.

“Then I guess I better tip well.” He’s jokes, hand finding your thigh under the table to caress it easily enough after he follows you into the booth. “I would hate that she would tell me to be a miser.”

“You’re as generous as you are handsome.” It isn’t even really flattery since it’s the truth, but you lean in to press a kiss to his lips gently before your whole body goes tense against him at the sound of a woman’s voice coming from the front door.

“What do you mean we have to wait? We have a reservation! You know? A guaranteed table?” The shrill voice is met with profuse apologies from the hostess, much lower in volume.

Oberyn frowns at the unnecessary hostility and looks over at you. “What is it?” He asks, not liking the slightly nauseous look on your face. “Something not agreeing with the baby?”

“Baby’s fine.” That’s always first priority over anything, but you swallow the bile threatening to build up. “I—I just…um…” Of all the fucking gin joints… “That’s Whitney’s voice.”

Oberyn’s expression is one of delight and mischief as he squeezes your thigh. The argument at the entrance is continuing on and he pats your leg before he speaks again. “Perhaps I should go offer a solution since we are the cause for the ruckus.” He murmurs before sliding out of the booth.

“No— I— Oberyn— Oberyn!” You hiss his name to try to get him to come back but he’s already gone, striding back up to the hostess stand with confidence and pure mischief in his eyes while you have your head buried in your hands at the table. A server brings two water glasses, and you thank the young man, telling him your companion will probably want wine but you have no idea what, so it might be best to come back in a few moments.

“Ma’am, I do apologize.” The hostess that seated you and Oberyn just a moment ago looks tired and a bit exasperated. “It is a very busy night, but a table should open up very soon.” It’s nearly ten minutes before the reservation time this woman gave her and she could point that out, but she’s dealt with plenty of people like this before. That never ends well.

“That’s not even remotely what a reservation is supposed be - ugh, you know what? Just get me the manager. Obviously, you messed up.” Whitney tells her.

Oberyn comes and stands beside the hostess, touching her shoulder in reassurance. “I’m afraid this mishap is my fault.” He explains. “I apologize.”

“Are you the idiot who doesn’t know how reservations work?” Petite and full of fire, the woman standing a full two feet in front of her timid-looking husband in the doorway levels her eyes at this casually-dressed new arrival with disdain. The hostess tries to speak but she holds up her hand to silence the girl. “It’s our anniversary. We reserved a table. That means we get a table. You’re already going to get a hell of a negative Yelp! review for this.”

“Of course.” Oberyn’s smile is sharp, looking over at the hostess who’s eyes are large and wary. Being raised in Dorne and still staying current in gossip and events makes her well aware of how volatile the prince can be. “Since we apparently took your table - my apologies again, I wished to celebrate with my fiancée tonight - why don’t you join us and I will pay for your meal?”

“Your hi—” She catches herself when Oberyn shakes his head, looking towards her with a gentle smile. “It’s okay. You had no idea I was coming in.”

“I’ll inform the kitchen you are a party of four now.” She nods hesitantly, but she’s going to disobey her prince of all people. “The chef — my father — was hoping you might allow him to prepare a specialty of his for your appetizer?”

“I would be delighted to experience whatever he wishes to make. I am sure that it will be delicious.” He smiles and nods towards the couple. “Also have a bottle of champagne and a bottle of sparkling water brought to the table to celebrate?”

“Yes, your—” She stops herself again and just nods. “Of course.”

Whitney huffs and shuffles impatiently so Oberyn turns to her. “My fiancée is sitting at the booth but is large enough for both couples.” He tells them before he turns to guide them back to where you are seated.

“Oberyn, please don’t tell me you—” The light of fond exasperation in your eyes when he reappears extinguishes almost instantly when you see who is walking beside him. “Whitney.” Saying her name makes you feel a little sick, but that still leaves you in better shape than the slumped man in the gray trousers and light sweater behind her. “Not a whiff of each other for years and this is what…twice in eight months?”

“This is your fiancée?” Whitney’s eyes widen as Oberyn slides into the booth beside you, his arm going around your body and immediately kisses your cheek.

“You deserve a little revenge.” He murmurs in your ear quietly. Kissing you again he turns to the couple. “Please, sit.”

“I don’t think we’ve met?” Whitney’s husband tries to straighten a little, smoothing his sweater and offering his other hand to Oberyn to shake while his wife situates herself, then shaking yours as well. “I’m Andrew.”

“No, we never met.” You hate the way your hand seems to revolt at shaking his and keep it very short. “I’m the woman your wife was living with before you got married.”

“Oh!” Andrew chuckles nervously. “You were her roommate back then? Wow, what a wild coincidence, huh?”

Oberyn chuckles. “Roommates. Very discreet word for lovers.” He comments as he picks up his glass of water to take a sip. “I will have to use it to describe Ellaria, see how long it takes her to throw a knife at my head for the insult.” He murmurs quietly to you.

“I’m sorry?” Andrew clearly didn’t understand the remark and you clear your throat.

“So, Whit. Why the temper tantrum over a ten-minute wait?” You could hear her screeching but not all of what was being said, hence your surprise at seeing them appear side by side coming toward the table.

Whitney grits her teeth, narrowing her eyes at you since your fiancé apparently knows about the two of you. “It’s our anniversary.” She tosses out with a smug smile, holding out her hand to show an impressive looking ring. “Six happy years.”

“I’m well aware of how long you’ve been married.” The chance to explain why is cut off by the reappearance of the young waiter with a bottle of sparkling water and another of champagne. He sets down four flutes and hands the bottle to Oberyn to inspect, looking nervous at the interaction.

Oberyn approves the bottle with a nod but takes the sparkling water and opens it himself to pour into the two flutes for you and him while the nervous waiter nearly tipples the bottle over in his haste to pour for the other couple.

“Thank you.” It seems like a small mercy to dismiss the young man, and anyway, Whitney still has her hand out on the table like she’s waiting for some fucking applause or something. It’s a very conventional set - a large pear-cut diamond halo setting engagement ring and a pavé wedding band to complement. The research of a spurned lover - which you definitely had been - told you Andrew’s job title was project manager, whatever vague bullshit that meant. Apparently, he was doing okay for himself and his family

Oberyn nudges the glass into your hand, urging you to take it as he glances at the ring. “It’s remarkable how they cut cubic zirconia to look real, isn’t it?” He holds his glass up. “Shall we have a toast?”

Whitney’s gasp sounds like she just had all the breath violently pushed out of her and you can’t help but snicker as your fingers curl around the stem of your glass. Your own ring is stunning - the center pearl and starburst of small diamonds making it unique and eye-catching - but you would marry Oberyn with a ruined piece of string in the middle of the Department of Sanitation. It’s a symbol, not the reason to be engaged. “Don’t be rude, love.” You chide, though you’re not sure you mean it.

“I meant no offense.” He gives a very believable performance of his protest. “It’s a solid, safe choice. If they divorce or she’s mugged, he’s not out thousands of dollars.”

“How dare you!” Whitney’s face is starting to morph to a shade of angry pink and you have to pinch your own arm discreetly to keep from laughing. “My husband is an extremely successful businessman and would never stoop so low as to buy me fake jewelry!”

The extremely successful businessman in question looks like he wishes he could sink into the ground and disappear.

“I assumed it was something you knew.” Oberyn tells her. “However, after a lifetime of dealing with diamond gifts, I am well capable of spotting a CZ. I have too many daughters not to know the difference.”

“And who are you that you have such a lifetime of giving out diamonds?” She demands, starting to go from pink to red. Any second now she’s going to start spitting fire, you’ve seen her do it before. Good lord, what did you ever see in this woman? Was she always this bad?

“You are right.” Oberyn looks over at you, happy to see less distress and more disgust on your face concerning your previous paramour. “I didn’t introduce myself. Please forgive me.” He gives you tiny wink before he turns back to her and gives her a highborn look, one cultivated from moving in the upper echelons of society for his entire life. “I am Oberyn Martell. Prince of Dorne.”

Whitney scoffs, a huffed snort of disbelief mixed into the sound, and raises her eyebrow at you. “What is he really?” She insists. “An actor? An escort?”

“No.” You hum a little, pulling out your phone to quickly Google one of the Dornish tabloids that had followed you around Sunspear during your week with him. “But he fucks like one.” The slight glance you give Oberyn is full of that same mischief of his that has clearly rubbed off on you, and you turn your phone around in your hand to show her the cover of The Dornish Sun, an English-language gossip rag that circulates around the island nation. American Invasion! reads the headline plastered over the picture of you and Oberyn dancing together in one of the many clubs you went to that week. There is an inset photo of Lily and Aja from their wedding day, as well. “Lily married his niece two months ago. We met the day before the wedding.”

Whitney stares at the pictures, mouth open like a fish out of water, and then glances back at the prince, blanching slightly as she realizes who she has been rude to. “So you are engaged after meeting two months ago?” Her smug facade deflates slightly, making her seem to wilt around the edges.

“He’s everything I ever wanted.” The adoration in your voice is obvious as you look back at the man you’re going to marry, and a wide, true smile splits your face. “And more.”

“And my Iris is the only woman to make me want to marry her. Divorce is not possible in the royal family. Especially since I am third from the throne.” Oberyn tosses out casually.

“You’re—?” That puffed up ego of hers is deflating like a cheap balloon and your ex is starting to look genuinely panicked.

“Lily’s wife is second,” you supply helpfully, more and more amused by how she and your sister never got along.

“Succession is such a funny thing.” He muses. “While I have other children, my love carries my heir as we speak.”

“Oh.” Whitney nods as if she only now understands and all but rolls her eyes at her husband despite talking to you. “Shotgun wedding. Clever, to make sure it was this guy that knocked you up.”

Oberyn can’t help but laugh. “I have eight daughters by four women.” He tells her dismissively. “Even if she had tried that age old trick, she knew I was the wrong one to play it on. However, she was not even going to tell me.” His face drops into a more vicious setting and he leans close, “I would not let that viper’s tongue loose again, for fear you lose it.”

“Love…” Setting your hand gently on his arm, you shake your head at him. Over the last few weeks he had laid his heart and soul bare to you, including telling you stories of his ruthless youth. You know the man you’re going to marry had a violent streak and a penchant for justice and revenge - still perfectly visible in moments like this. But this isn’t the time or the place to go further. “Diplomatic immunity aside, you wouldn’t be doing the family that owns this restaurant any favours if the Red Viper made an appearance tonight,” you remind him quietly.

“You are right.” He relaxes slightly under your touch and leans in to kiss you softly. “I would hate for them to have bad Yelp reviews.”

Andrew, mostly forgotten throughout this entire exchange, coughs slightly, covering his mouth with his hand. Oberyn thought he saw a whisp of a grin on the hen-pecked man’s face.

“Ahh, the appetizers.” Oberyn notices the waiter hustling towards them with a large tray. “Barbed words work up an appetite, don’t they?” He asks, throwing you a wink.

“You’re not going to defend me?” Whitney looks at her husband with undisguised exasperation and near disgust. “Of course you’re not. He threatened me, and my ex-girlfriend has to defend me because my husband isn’t man enough to open his damn mouth.” She is ranting just barely loud enough for the waiter to hear and pause in his steps, and the look of absolute shock on Andrew’s face says he did not know his wife liked women.

Oberyn snorts, shaking his head and turning to look at you with a raised brow. “Please tell me that she tastes better than she acts?” He begs you, unable to see what you had seen in this woman to make you pine for so long. “Treat a man like a man and he will defend you. Treat a man like your lap dog and he will tuck his tail.” He muses as he looks back over at her.

“She didn’t used to be this bad.” Is your murmured (and admittedly sheepish) answer, but Andrew’s palm hits the table a second later and makes all of you jump.

“I didn’t know you…you dated women. What else don’t I know about you?” He asks, his wounded expression trained on Whitney.

Oberyn lifts a brow at the other man’s shocked tone. Whitney’s face pales and she shakes her head. “Nothing. It was just— just experimentation.”

“It was a year.” You lower your voice so people won’t state, but under absolutely no circumstances are you going to let the relationship that shaped your entire adult life be played off as inconsequential. “I’m—” You breathe a shaky sigh and thread your fingers through Oberyn’s for support. “Whitney was cheating on me with you.” Is the way you phrase it to the man that she had married, actually making it sounds much less dramatic than it was. “I don’t know how long.”

Oberyn snorts and shakes his head, “She used you. Don’t mince words or make it sound prettier than it was. She lived in your house, slept in your bed, had sex with you - all while she was seeing this man behind your back. While you were planning a life together.”

“Whit?” Andrew’s eyebrows pinch together, the worry on his face starting to build as his wife - your ex - sputters under the heavy weight of the truth. “How. Long?”

“What does it matter?” She spits, angry to have this come out and make her seem like the bad guy. “She’s just bitter that I didn’t stay with her. She’s overly dramatic and that doesn’t need to affect us, baby.” She turns her eyes on Andrew and tries to give him a pleading look.

“I was bitter.” Though thankfully that is behind you now, with every ounce of credit for that change to the man beside you.

Oberyn and Andrew have Whitney boxed into the booth so she can’t just storm out like she so clearly wants to, and from the way he looks like he’s about to start pleading for an explanation, you actually feel a little bad for this random man. It seems like she must have been playing him, too, and that doesn’t surprise you at all. “I came home from work one day—” The second you start your sentence Whitney is trying to drown you out, calling you a liar and a bitch as quietly and forcefully as possible, but you’re only talking to Andrew. “And she was packing. Told me she was getting married at the end of the week and that I had been practice for her. She said one day I would make a great meal ticket for somebody who actually loves me.” You shake your head a little at the man. “Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know you. But you should know who you married.”

Andrew looks properly horrified at that, shaking his head and nearly chokes out a sob. “Fuck.” He manages. “No - I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He turns to look at Whitney who has stopped talking and just sits there like a mutinously little toddler who’s not gotten their way. “And apparently I didn’t know you. At all.” He spits. “There’s also the fact that you signed our prenup before you left her, Whitney.”

“I was never really with her.” She objects, as though just saying it would make it true. But there is pleading in her voice. “Baby, I wanted to make sure I could be a good wife to you, that’s all! Plenty of people have roommates before they get married.”

“Roommate?” You scoff, the old rip in your heart aching, though the wound has finally healed. “We had sex the morning of the day you left. Does that affect your prenup, Andrew?”

“It damn sure does.” Andrew’s voice is hard, surprising Oberyn and he swears he just saw the man take his balls out of his wife’s purse. “The prenup she signed swore that she was faithful from the time I proposed.” He smirks slightly. “My mother was right to suggest a cubic zirconia.”

“She’s a liar, Andy!” Whitney is practically crawling into his lap, or at least trying to despite him recoiling. “Why would you listen to her and not to your wife?”

“Why would she lie, Whit?” Is Andrew’s comeback. “She’s pregnant with a fucking prince’s baby! Going to be a princess. She doesn’t give a shit about your pathetic - all for show - life. How you parade the kids around like they are your little accessories and ignore them at home. Or the fucking way you refuse to either get a job or take care of the house like you are on Real Housewives or some shit.” He blocks her attempt to touch him again and grabs her wrists. “We’re done. The house is mine, you will move out, the girls and I are staying.”

“It was nice to meet you.” Is what comes out of your shocked mouth as you vaguely wave goodbye to Andrew’s retreating form. What the hell else can you say? You just witnessed the implosion of Whitney’s lies and her marriage all at once - right now all you have the brainpower for is clutching Oberyn’s hand while Whitney fails to scramble to her feet to run after her soon-to-be ex-husband. “Ya know, Whit…” Despite yourself, an ironic smirk pulls at your lips that you have to tamp down. “I’m giving up my lease at the end of the week to move to Dorne…you could always move back into the old apartment.”

“Bitch.” She hisses angrily before she is chasing after Andrew, desperate to salvage her marriage.

Oberyn leans back and chuckles. “At least the last thing she will be thinking about tonight is reviewing the restaurant.” He jokes before he looks over at you. “Are you okay, Iris? I know I shouldn’t have, but it turned out to be vastly entertaining. I think we saved that poor man’s life.”

“Hug, please?” To admit that you’re shaken is a massive understatement. The plentiful tray of appetizers sits at the edge of the table where the waiter has left it while trying to get out of the line of fire and people are definitely staring, and right now all you actually want is the comfort of Oberyn’s arms around you.

That is something he is completely willing to do, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against him. “If you had stayed with her, you would have been as worn down as that poor bastard.”

“And I definitely wasn’t smart enough to be looking at cubic zirconia rings.” Buried against his chest, a few overwhelmed tears of genuine relief fall before you can brush them away. “Jesus Christ…and it’s their anniversary.”

“Karma took a big wet bite out of her ass.” Oberyn says before he chuckles again. “That means on the anniversary of the day she left you…hmmm—” He smirks. “That was the day I laid you out on the island in your apartment and feasted on you for hours.”

“I think I remember that.” You tease, leaning back to smile at him. “The neighbors will be happy when we go. We got two noise complaints from that.”

“Yes, they will.” He winks at you and leans in to kiss you again. “Now that we’ve successfully put your ex in her place, why don’t we eat?”

All you have to do is nod ‘yes’ to food and he is pulling the platter closer and filling your plate with delicious looking morsels. “We only have four more days in New York.” You murmur, picking up your glass and taking a sip of the crisp sparkling water. “Is there anything else you want to make sure we do before we leave?”

There is a moment where he sees you push aside what happened and relax, unfurling in the happy knowledge that in four days you will be on the jet back to Dorne. “Honestly, just anything you want to do. Little places you will miss.” He tells you indulgently. “The men will be here to take all your belongings you want to bring in two days. Get everything stored on board before we leave.”

A large part of this is the fact that if you don’t force yourself to think about something else, you’re afraid the grasping, aching sadness of being hurt by Whitney will flood you, and you don’t want that. Not now. Not when things are changing for the better every day. “Maybe we can spend our last days being tourists? I’ve already taken you to all my favourite places except museums, and by the last day the charity will have come for all the stuff we’re not taking with us so I can’t even suggest we stay in bed. There won’t be a bed.”

“Why don’t we get a hotel?” He suggests, wanting you to smile. “There has to be one hotel in this city you have wanted to stay in?” It would feed the fantasy of being tourists and keep you from wanting to ‘camp’ in your empty apartment.

“Sure,” you snort a little, shaking your head as you apply yourself to the first course of your dinner. “Everybody wishes they are fancy enough to stay at the Waldorf Astoria or the Plaza just once. But that’s so out of the realm of possibility that I don’t even know what a room would cost. Those places are for the ultra-rich. Celebrities and stuff. I’m sure there’s a thousand little hotels all over the city to pick from.”

He hums, charmed by the notion that you still have not realized that you would be considered among those now. While Dorne is a small nation, they were still wealthy, their economy one that seemingly thrived in various industries. “Waldorf or Plaza?” He asks. “Or we can split the time between both if you want.”

“Oh, we’ll obviously let’s split the difference.” If he’s going to tease you, you can tease him back, and you poke him playfully with your elbow. “And let’s have dinner as Per Se while we’re at it.” Even the mere suggestion makes you laugh, giggling at the insane luxury that you can’t even process. Even having spent time in his family’s palace, the disconnect is just too wild to process. “Seriously, love. We can grab a couple of nights at a DoubleTree and it won’t make a difference at all. Just as long as you’re there with me.”

"Pfft." Oberyn shakes his head. "No." He looks towards you and smiles, lucky that you are not demanding luxury. "I want to see you experience them firsthand. And I'll call Per Se and get a table for tomorrow night? How does that sound?"

“If you can actually get a reservation at Per Se on twenty-four hours’ notice, I’ll…” It takes a second to find a hyperbole big enough, considering getting a table at the legendary Michelin-starred restaurant normally requires a month minimum of advance planning. “I’ll suck your cock every day for a year and never ask anything in return.”

The dark gleam has nothing to do with your promise, he knows that the two of you will find yourself tangled together, but he nods. “Deal.” He winks at you and pulls out his phone. “Should I call now? Or wait until we get back to your apartment?”

“Call later.” You huff but can’t help laughing. It won’t make a difference when the call happens, and you both know you’ll happily give him head every day with no other incentive but his pleasure. “For now, eat with me, and let’s talk about the wedding?” Conversation about that particular event at your parents’ house had been less than productive and you haven’t really talked about it since, but you remember the small amount of planning you helped Lily and Aja with - and even that much had been overwhelming at times.

“What we have is completely up to you.” While royal weddings being small affairs were rare, he would fight for it if that’s what you wanted. “It’s our day, no one else’s.”

“Doran will eat us alive if we don’t do something respectable and at least vaguely traditional.” The video call you’d shared with his older brother after you got back to the city had made that abundantly clear. The rumour of Oberyn settling down has had the local press in an uproar. “Besides, the only Dornish wedding I’ve ever been to was beautiful.”

“Then we shall have a traditional Dornish wedding.” He takes your hand and kisses the back of it. “Do you want to wait until after our child is born or do it before that date?”

“I don’t really know how the legality of succession works.” You admit, picking at a particularly beautiful croqueta with your fork nervously. “Would it make any difference to the baby? In terms of…status?” You really desperately need to do some reading on the historical and legal end of things.

He nods, “There is a way to make the babe legitimate after their birth, but it is a process.” He acknowledges. “Don’t worry about that. I just want you to be comfortable when we marry.”

“Why don’t we just do it before, then?” It doesn’t have the same feeling as a shotgun wedding at all, but you know Lils will tease you a little about rushing - but only a little. “I don’t mind being pregnant at our wedding.” That thought actually makes you smirk, and you laugh again. “For all we know, I was already twelve hours pregnant at the last one.”

He can’t help but laugh at that. “True.” He smirks and leans in to kiss your lips. “And you’re going to sit on my cock again during this wedding reception too.”

“You’re incorrigible.” It’s barely a scold as you kiss him back, and you can feel a little swirl of lust burst to life in your core. “And I love you.”

“I love you too.” Oberyn promises, taking the offered kiss and then another. He had never anticipated this when he had first spotted you gawking in embarrassment by the pool, but he has you, another baby on the way and a lifetime of love for the Dornish prince ahead of him.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog

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handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years ago

Text

Sticky Notes - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

It all started on the set of Ragnarok. They hadn’t even started filming yet. Table reads, choreography, costume fittings, set development…The cast, crew, and even Taika started finding little notes.

Some were specifically to certain people…

“Your laugh is contagious. Thank you for making this set so down to earth and inviting.” You slipped that into Taika’s (the director’s) fanny pack when he left it on his director’s chair.

“I know how hard you’ve been working on your fight choreography, and I just wanted to let you know you absolutely killed it today!” You left that stuck to Tessa’s (Valkyrie’s) water bottle.

Some you posted for everyone, like “I know that you all put such amazing effort and time into bringing this movie to life and I just want you all to know that it doesn’t go unnoticed.” That note was posted above a table full of ‘easy to grab’ snacks you laid out such as protein bars, fruit snacks, pretzels, and dried fruit.

This continued well into filming. Everyone had tried to figure out who was leaving these little daily encouragements. It got to the point that Taika started calling you Casper, as in “Casper the Friendly Ghost.” Every day at the start of filming he would say. “Come on guys. Let’s make Casper proud.”

Everyone had a theory. Most thought that it was actually Taika just trying to keep morale up. Taika accused Tom but took it back after some comment about the notes not sounding very British.

Your job on set was to cast extras. While you were present daily, you honestly only had to meet with Taika once or twice a day to make sure the next day’s cast extras were ready. You two fell into an easy rhythm working together and he started asking for your opinion on some other aspects of the set. One late afternoon, after an incredibly chaotic day of filming, Taika decided that he was going to scrap the entire scene and start it over.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text to you, Tom, and Chris. “Today can suck it. I’ve just watched the dailies, and something just isn’t right about that scene. Meet at mine in 30 so we can get ahead of it.” A few seconds later he added, “And for the love of God, someone bring some tequila.”

You laughed at his text, jogging to the trailer you shared with the other casting director. You changed into a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt and grabbed your keys and wallet. You jumped in your car so you could make a quick trip to the Starbucks down the street since it appeared it was going to be a long night.

“One Venti iced coffee with milk and 1 sugar, one Grande Americano hot with cream and 2 sugars, one Venti hot latte with vanilla, and one Venti hot water with two earl gray tea bags and four sugars on the side. Can I also get one of the small kid’s milk boxes?” You heard the barista repeat your order back and pulled forward and paid.

When you got to Taika’s trailer, Tom and Chris were already there.

“Oh, bless you” Taika thanked you, taking the Latte from you.

“You’re the best” Chris said, taking the lid off of the Americano so it would cool off a bit.

“Tom, I grabbed you tea.” You handed him the hot water and two tea bags, setting the sugars and milk next to him so he could make it to his liking.

“You’re too kind” Tom graciously took the hot water from you, noting that you grabbed his favorite kind of tea.

In Taika’s trailer there was a table with a bench on each side. Chris and Tom were sat on one side, leaving a space for you to sit next to Taika.

“Anyone grab the tequila?” you laughed, dropping your keys and wallet on Taika’s counter and sitting at the table with your iced coffee.

Taika grabbed the bottle and sat it down in front of you. “You’re already two swigs behind, love.”

“Bullshit” you laughed. “Prove it. Where are the shot glasses?”

“I said swigs, not shots” Taika smirked. “We don’t have shot glasses.”

“Look at how much is missing from that bottle. I just bought it.” Hemsworth backed Taika up.

You looked at Tom, knowing he would be honest with you.

“Hey, you trust Tom more than me?” Taika pretended to be offended.

“Tom always looks out for everybody. I don’t think he’d let me get two shots drunker than you fools.” You teased Taika, poking his side and sticking your tongue out at him.

“Watch” Taika said, putting his arm around your shoulders and looking towards Tom. “How many swigs did we all take?”

Tom laughed, “I’m sorry darling, but he’s telling you the truth.”

“Fine, fine.” You opened the bottle and took three swigs, handing it to Taika. “Catch up, then.”

Tom started thinking about the compliment you had given him as he took his third swig of Tequila. He felt flattered that you felt that way, but it also reminded him of one of the notes he had found stuck to his trailer door.

“Okay, we need to re-block this whole scene. It just did not translate from script to screen…” The four of you worked on a few line changes and mapped out a better way to execute the scene for over two hours.

There was a bit of dialogue that Taika felt was getting lost that he really just didn’t want to let go of. “We may just have to mess with this tomorrow while we’re filming.”

“Or you could have Loki say it instead of Thor.” You suggested.

“Could do.” You could tell that Taika was thinking it over.

“Here you have Thor immediately going into another hard-hitting line” you explained. “If that line comes from Loki, it makes it less likely to get lost.”

“I think that will fix this problem too” Chris started underlining other parts of the dialogue.

“What do you think?” Taika looked at Tom.

“I mean, I personally think Loki has already evolved enough at that point in the script that it suits him quite nicely.” Tom explained in a way only Tom can explain.

“I agree” you said. “You guys make Loki grow quite a bit in this film and as usual, Tom is hitting it out of the park. I’m 100% confident he will have conveyed that message to the audience by this point.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” Again, Tom was flattered. However, he was growing more and more suspicious that you were Casper.

“Always” you replied, smiling at Tom as you finished your coffee.

“Let me type this up and we can table read it.” Taika grabbed the papers and went to the other side of the trailer where his computer was set up.

“While you do that, I’m going to steal your restroom for a moment.” Chris stood, throwing his empty coffee cup away and closing the bathroom door. Chris joined Taika a moment later.

“Y/n?” Tom said, kind of quietly.

“What’s up?” Your elbows were resting on the table with your chin sat on your hands.

“Can I ask you something?” Tom didn’t want to bring it up in front of anyone. He didn’t want the notes to stop, but he had to know.

Tom looked a bit serious, but you didn’t know why. “Of course.”

“Are you…” He stopped, reaching his hand into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. “Is this you?”

Your eyes went wide as Tom pulled a small stack of pink sticky notes out of his wallet, laying them down next to each other. There must have been 10 of them in total. You were touched that he actually kept them. Sometimes you felt silly leaving them for people not knowing if they appreciated them. You tried to play it off, laughing. “I thought those were from Taika?”

He pointed at one of them, reading it quietly. “I tried the tea you always drink. I don’t think it could ever replace my love of coffee, but I wanted you to know it pairs well with a good book.” He pointed to another note. “I know you paid for everyone to Uber home after our last night out. I just wanted to tell you I appreciate you. Thank you for always looking out for us.” You could feel his eyes on you as he moved his hand to a third note. “I envy your ability to capture a room. You’ve got an amazing knack for making those watching you feel whatever emotion you’re trying to convey.” When Tom’s hand moved to the fourth note, you heard Taika’s printer turn on.

“Put them away” you said, trying to stack them quickly. Chris started walking towards you and you grabbed the small stack you had gathered and put them in your pocket.

Tom put the rest back in his wallet. “What do you think?” he asked Taika about the changes he had made.

“I think tomorrow is going to be a lot fuckin’ better.” He passed the printed copies around after joining the two of you back at the table.

Tom’s line went over great, and the dialogue flowed much more smoothly. All of the other changes made the scene feel more natural. When Taika called it a night, Chris laid down on the couch refusing to go back to his own trailer.

“Can I walk you to yours?” Tom asked as you stepped out of Taika’s trailer.

The two of you walked back to your trailer in comfortable silence, tired and a little drunk. When you got to the door, you turned around and pulled the pink notes out of your pocket.

“Please don’t tell anyone?” You placed the notes in Tom’s hand.

“I didn’t plan on it” he replied, tucking them neatly back into his wallet.

“I feel silly now that someone knows it was me. Why did you keep them?” You had to ask. You assumed, at most, that people read them, smiled, and threw them away.

“Hmm…” Tom laughed humorlessly, his eyes focused on his wallet. “I think you’re doing a lot more than you realize when you leave your ‘silly’ little notes.”

His response caught you off guard. He almost sounded…sad? Serious?

“Y/n, I’ve had to work with actors and crew that have made filming a project miserable. Whether they were rude or critical or just an absolute diva, there is always someone to bring the room down.” He put his wallet away and looked you in the eyes. “I wish you knew how many of us have kept these notes. Taika has them in the glovebox of his car. The catwalk above the set is covered in notes you’ve left the crew. They’re stuck all over the mirrors in the make-up trailer so that the cast sees them first thing in the morning.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

Tom put his hands on each of your arms as if to ensure you were paying attention. “An encouraging word or a genuine compliment can change someone’s entire day, y/n. You have no way of knowing what life has dealt any of these people. They could be depressed or stressed out or wishing they hadn’t woken up that morning…and all of a sudden they receive a tiny bit of kindness from someone and it makes it that much easier to get through another day. Maybe even with a smile on their face.”

Tom wore a soft smile and even though you felt a bit overwhelmed, you couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you for telling me that.” You moved towards him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Please don’t forget it.” Tom pulled back a bit and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I hope you get a good night’s sleep.”

“You, too.” You watched Tom walk away before slipping into your shared trailer.

Over the next few weeks, Tom had left you multiple green sticky notes with compliments written on them.

“You looked stunning yesterday”

“Thank you for still being a good listener when I go on rants about things you couldn’t care less about”

“Taika was bragging about you to someone on the phone. I just wanted you to know. I know sometimes you hesitate to suggest your ideas, but you shouldn’t.”

“I appreciate how much time you spend making this a better set to work on.”

“You are an incredible friend.”

You’d find at least one note a day and for every note he left you, you’d leave one for him. The two of you got quite a bit closer after he found out about your secret. You’d spend breaks on set together and often times wound up back in Taika’s trailer with him and Chris. You cuddled and flirted and shared more than a few loving glances, but you never went any further. It felt like it was turning into something more, but Tom was such a gentleman you couldn’t tell.

The note you found this morning, however, completely caught you off guard. The filming was almost done and everyone’s time on set was almost over. You had just sat down next to the director’s chair and opened your laptop. There, stuck to the screen, was a green sticky note. “Darling, would you please be mine?”

You looked up at Tom on stage only to find him already looking at you. He lifted his brow and tilted his head, waiting for your response. You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded ‘yes’.

Taika looked between you, noticing the interaction and intentionally teasing you. “Oi, what’s this then?”

Tom turned, trying to hide his grin by talking to Chris. You closed your laptop to hide the sticky note.

“Nah, I saw you two. Don’t pretend like I’m crazy.” Taika was still looking back and forth between you and Tom.

“Maybe you’re still drunk from last night” you teased, putting your laptop in its bag so you could retrieve the note later.

“Oh, sure.” He dropped it, knowing he’d bring it up tonight when you all gathered in his trailer.

The rest of the filming flew by crazy fast. You and Tom had decided that you would go stay with him in New York until the press junkets and interviews started. When the premier rolled around, you two were already publicly dating so you got to escort him down the red carpet. It had been just over a year since the two of you had started dating.

As the credits for the film started rolling, you felt like you were walking down memory lane. So many people go into making movies of this scale and watching all of the names roll by, one by one, really puts that into perspective. You’d met almost all of these people and worked closely with quite a few of them. As the credits came to an end, you saw that Taika had added an extra credit.

The last few “SPECIAL THANKS” credits were in order as listed…

“The filmmakers acknowledge the assistance of the New Zealand Government’s Screen Production Grant”

“The filmmakers would like to acknowledge the Yugambeh and Bundjalung Peoples of Australia”

“The director would like to thank ‘Casper’, Ragnarok’s own personal friendly ghost”

It had been a year since you’d written one of those notes and it caught you off guard. Tom put his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I told you.”

You and Tom mingled amongst your friends at the after party. Taika was flying. He was so happy with how it turned out and grateful for such a positive response. Everyone in the cast was telling stories from filming and catching up with their friends. By the time you two got back to your hotel room, you were blissfully tipsy and exhausted. You slipped out of your dress and threw on a baggy t-shirt before washing your face and getting ready for bed. When you left the bathroom, you saw Tom sitting on the edge of the bed in his pajamas with a soft, warm smile gracing his beautiful face. He was wearing his glasses and his hair was a mess and he could not have been more attractive if he tried.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling you to stand between his legs.

“Pretty good. How about yourself?” you put your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his.

“I think there’s only one thing that could make me happier in this moment.” He answered.

You thought he was being a bit cheeky, so you replied with, “oh, yeah? I wonder what that could be.”

Tom reached behind him on the bed and pulled out a small box with a worn, green sticky note on top of it. He didn’t say anything, letting you read it. It was the same note he had left stuck to your laptop screen. “Darling, would you please be mine?” Only now the word “forever” was written at the bottom.

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston imagine #loki

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sunsents · 4 years ago

Text

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

#angst #hp angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley series #reader insert #harry potter fluff #harry potter fic #fred weasley imagine

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atlabeth · 3 years ago

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everything happens for a reason part 3 - zuko x fem!reader

I feel so much, I get carried away

part 2 | masterlist | part 4

a/n: enjoy the fluff in this chapter bc its not gonna last

once again for reference - this chapter takes place 2 years after the last one so y/n is 11 and zuko is 12

warning(s): eating/food, but otherwise its pure fluff

wc: 3.3k

chapter title comes from carried away by madison beer!

i ran out of kid zuko gifs so i had to make my own smh if you want something done you gotta do it yourself

The young friendship only flourished after that fateful day. Zuko and Y/N began spending almost all of their freetime together between Y/N teaching him about her culture, their usual talking in the hallways, and finding ways to hang out together outside of her schedule. She was absolutely delighted to be teaching Zuko though, so she always made sure there was time for her self proclaimed academy.

Y/N was constantly busy around the castle, so in order to hang out they had started waking up extra early — the pair had become experts at sneaking around the castle with the first rays of the sun. The gardens were a favourite because of its availability, and of course, the turtleducks. It also gave Y/N a chance to bend outside of healing, something that they began to take advantage of as they got older.

Sparring sessions became a regular between them as a way for Y/N to get some practice with martial bending, Zuko to experience fighting against a waterbender, and just another way for them to spend time together. Of course, they had to keep it as quiet as possible to avoid alerting anyone of their presence, but that became the least of their worries over time.

They each pushed each other to be better, and with Y/N’s healing skills, they were able to walk away every morning without any injuries. But after discovering a very unfair advantage that the prince held, she decided that morning sparring just wasn’t enough.

(“Firebending gets stronger in the morning,” he had told her after a particularly brutal blast resulting in some emergency bending on Y/N’s part to extinguish a tree. “My teachers always say that we rise with the sun.”

“Well,” she had said with a smile. “We rise with the moon. You just signed yourself up for some late night sparring sessions.”)

Y/N had truly started to come into her own. It had been two years since her capture, and though she had in no way made peace with her life in the Fire Nation, she was trying to take advantage of it as much as she could. Even though she despised being at the beck and call of nobles and guards, she couldn’t deny the opportunities it gave her to hone her abilities. Her healing had improved tenfold and her martial bending wasn’t too shabby either. Between all of the time spent with Zuko and practicing her bending, she was able to distract herself from her dim reality.

But the world was a cruel, cruel place, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. It didn’t treat souls like Zuko and Y/N kindly, a fact that they would soon become aware of.

In the moment though, Y/N was more focused on not getting burnt.

She twirled to the side as a small flame shot past her, just barely managing to dodge it as she bent a stream of water out from the pond and sent it at Zuko. He turned it to steam as he blocked it with his own fire, which he then sent back at her with a combination of a punch and a kick. Y/N raised her hands and bent up a large wall of water from the pond, and with a small grunt on her part, sent it flying towards Zuko. He tried to conjure up his own fire shield in an effort to extinguish the water once more, but it was too little too late and he ended up getting knocked to the ground and completely drenched.

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips as Zuko wiped water off of his face, sputtering incoherently while he pushed himself up. “Did you really have to do that?” he complained.

“You know I do.” She grinned as she walked around the pond to his side, cracking her knuckles before she began to bend the water out of his clothes. “This was in the morning, too. Admit it, I’m getting better!”

He cracked a smile of his own. “You really are. I just wish that you getting better didn’t end up in me getting soaked every time.”

She bent the water she had extracted from his clothes back into the pond and held out her hand to help him up from the ground, which he took gratefully. “That just makes it more fun.”

As she helped pull him up, Y/N found herself more than a little transfixed. The rays of the rising sun shone down on him perfectly, and the smile still on his lips made her feel flutter bats in her stomach.

Y/N didn’t know when she had started seeing Zuko in a different light than usual. When his laughs became melodious, his smile like a ray of sunshine on its own, his company coveted. While she was usually able to trade verbal jabs with him without a second thought, doing her self-assigned job of keeping him humble, something had changed in the past year.

They grew steadily closer over the years after they had met, but one event in particular all but pushed Zuko into her arms.

Ursa’s banishment.

Of course, they didn’t know that she had been banished. No one aside from Ozai knew the true nature of her disappearance — to her children and the other inhabitants of the palace, it was just that. A disappearance.

It was suspicious, yes. All in the span of a day, Princess Ursa vanished, Fire Lord Azulon mysteriously perished, and Ozai took his place, but nothing could be done. It was a somber day for every servant — Ursa showed them a kindness that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the palace, and to rub salt in the wound, a man just as cruel as Azulon had risen to the throne.

Zuko was devastated. He had always been close with his mother, and the only thing she had given him before leaving was a short goodbye and a kiss. He was angry beyond belief at the abandonment, and that anger overshadowed his grief.

Y/N tried to help him, but he lashed out at her.

“Your mother is still here and she loves you! Mine left me like I was nothing. Don’t try and say you know how I feel.”

“But my father is gone. I do know how you feel Zuko, and I want to help you, but I can’t help you if you keep pushing me away.”

“…you don’t know anything.”

It hurt, but she knew he needed space. She gave it to him, letting him brew alone and take out his anger however necessary, but let him know that the door was open when he was ready to talk.

He did — he had apologized for what he said and she accepted, and Zuko ended up spilling every emotion he had to her over the next few weeks. She listened, offered advice when she could, and made Zuko feel a little bit less alone in the scheme of it all. It was a horrible experience, but it brought them closer together, and the prince was eternally thankful that he had a friend to help him through the ordeal.

The night that he came to her room, admitting that he was hurting and asking for her help — Y/N thinks that was the moment she fell for him. She cursed herself at the time for developing feelings for her only friend in the palace, but over time she learned to cover them up. She had to remember her place.

She understood her role, but it got harder and harder to keep up with it the more time she spent with Zuko — this moment was no exception.

“Yeah, yeah. I just hold back because I don’t want to burn you.”

“Liar!” she exclaimed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. “You forget that I can heal myself if anything goes wrong. Besides, I know you’d never burn me. I trust you.”

Zuko smiled and smoothed his clothes back down, the only sign of their sparring session now gone. “Good, because I trust you too. No matter how many times you totally drench me.”

She snorted as she started to walk back to the palace. “Like I said, that just makes it more fun. And as fun as it has been completely crushing you in combat, duty calls.”

He sighed, giving a reluctant nod as he started to follow her — then his eyes lit up, and he grabbed her arm to stop them. “Wait, how much work do you have today?”

Y/N thought for a few seconds then shrugged. “Dunno, it varies. I got stuck working with Jaysa all this morning, so that’s going to take forever, I have my usual healing lessons with Master Rika after, and then I usually just end up going around with whatever else comes my way for the rest of the day.” She grinned and lowered her voice as if the subject of the matter could somehow hear her. “I’ve been working on a dress for my mother in secret because her birthday is coming up soon, so the free time I get between my shifts that isn’t spent with you has been going towards that.”

Zuko gaped. “You’re making her a dress all on your own, with no help? How?”

She held up her hands with a proud smile. “These things are good for waterbending, sewing, and hitting best friends.”

He gave her a sideways grin at that. “I’m your best friend?”

Y/N snickered and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, dummy. You’re like, the only person that likes me in this whole nation. Of course you’re my best friend.”

“Well…” he started. “Would a best friend like to break the rules even more tonight?”

Her eyes lit up in turn, completely betraying her excitement despite her attempt to look nonchalant about it. “That depends — what d’you have in mind?”

He grinned and leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper as he spoke in her ear. “So, after you finish work for the night, we…”

It was a struggle to get through all of her work after the plan that she and Zuko had formulated — sure, they broke the rules all the time. The basis of their entire friendship was breaking the rules, but this was going farther than they ever had before. Y/N wasn’t thinking about the consequences though, she was thinking about the journey — that was her first mistake.

She had rushed through all of her chores with Jaysa, hardly paid attention in her healing lessons, and made quick work of the rest of her day until she was finally able to meet up with Zuko at one of the various servant entrances that she had shown him.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, his body buzzing with nervous energy. “I thought you were never gonna come.”

“Some of us actually have work to get done, mister crown prince,” she joked as she bumped his shoulder with hers. “But that doesn’t matter — let’s get going before someone catches us! I don’t want it to get too dark either.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Zuko reassured. “My dad is in war meetings all day, no one is going to catch us. Now come on!”

Zuko pushed open the door, grabbed her hand, and began to pull her along. A laugh fell from her lips as they ran, unable to stop herself from casting a cautionary glance behind them as they got farther from the palace. Y/N tried to push her worries out of her mind — like she had told Zuko earlier, she trusted him.

That was her second mistake.

It was surprisingly easy to sneak past the guards around the wall and just as quick to get through Royal Caldera, and before Y/N knew it, they had arrived in the city.

It was nothing like she had ever seen before.

The village she had grown up in was miniscule compared to anything in the Fire Nation, and she was especially awestruck upon entering the city. As home to more middle class citizens than anything, it was a bustling marketplace filled with workers and nobles alike — if she hadn’t been preoccupied with the stars in her eyes, she would’ve been able to see the way Zuko was absolutely beaming at her.

“Come on!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand once again as he began to walk — at a much more moderate pace than their run here — down the streets. “There’s so much here that I wanna show you. Have you ever been out here?”

She shook her head, allowing herself to gawk at her surroundings while they went down the street. “We aren’t really allowed to leave the palace since we’re technically still prisoners, just… ones that work. My mother always had to give her money to one of the other servants so that when they went out to buy their things, they could pick some stuff up for us as well. This is all totally new.”

Once again, a frown found its way onto Zuko’s face, but only for a split second before he pointed at a stall opposite to them. “Oh— there’s a fruit stand! Come on, you have to try this.”

Y/N let Zuko pull her over to the stand, looking at the array of fruits on display while Zuko conversed with the merchant. A few silver pieces later and they were walking away with a basket of produce — miraculously, the prince hadn’t been recognized, so she figured he wouldn’t need a disguise. Third mistake.

“Here,” he said, offering her a mango from the basket. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Fire Nation mango.”

She took the fruit from him and bit into it, her eyes immediately widening as she turned on Zuko. “Tui’s gills, this is delicious! You’re telling me that you people just have this on hand but we don’t get any of it?”

He shrugged and took a fig from the basket as Y/N wiped some juice off of her chin. “There’s a reason I’ve helped you break into the kitchens so many times. Now, where do you wanna go next?”

The pair spent the next couple of hours browsing the marketplace, enjoying their day on the Fire Lord’s coin. Zuko was more than happy to show Y/N parts of his culture after all she had taught him, and she was more than happy to experience it. They had been able to buy lanterns for the upcoming Festival of Szeto, purchase their own blends of tea leaves, and of course Zuko insisted on getting fire flakes and gummies.

(Y/N thought he was insane. Why in the world would the Fire Nation want to make food that hurt them on purpose? She was going to stick with her newfound love for mangoes.)

But Zuko hadn’t even brought her to the best part yet.

“Can I open my eyes now?” She asked, her anxious tone betraying her curiosity.

“Now you can.” Y/N was met with Zuko’s grin and as she focused on the stand in front of them, she had to make a conscious effort to not gape.

Zuko had brought her to a sewing stand with all the threads, fabrics, and silks that she could dream of in all kinds of colors. She immediately rushed forward, unable to stop herself from running her hands over and through each and every piece of material — she was in a seamstress’s heaven.

“I take that as a sign you like it?” Zuko asked happily.

“Oh, definitely,” she confirmed, still completely caught up in all the choices. “This is so much better than all the material we’re given to work with!”

“That’s why I brought you here. I thought you could get some stuff for yourself, and some stuff to help with the dress you’re making for your mom. I don’t really know how sewing works, but I thought that this was one way I could help.”

“That is so sweet of you!” she gushed. “Thank you so much — you should probably get around to some of the other stalls because I… I think I’m gonna be here for a while.”

Zuko laughed and fished out of a couple of golden pieces then set them in her hand. “That’s okay. I’ll meet you over by the steps; we can watch the sunset together.”

They nodded as parting gifts and each was enveloped in their tasks; Y/N beginning to ask the merchant questions about everything at their stand and Zuko off to entertain himself for a few more minutes.

Soon enough, Y/N had her own small bundle of silks and fabrics, her mind already going off in a million different ways of how she could incorporate it into the design. She found Zuko sitting on the steps and as she took her own seat next to him, he handed her another mango.

“Did you find everything you wanted?” She nodded and hummed gratefully as she accepted the fruit, taking a bite as her eyes fell on the skyline in front of them.

“I had a really great time today, Zuko. I really can’t thank you enough for taking me out here. I… I think I forgot what it was like to feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“...happy.” She paused for a second before allowing herself to meet his eyes. “All the time I spend with you in the palace… It’s one of the only times that I really do feel happy. And being out here today, getting to walk around where I wanted and buy things and just— I feel free, Zuko. And that means everything to me.”

She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and she turned away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that—“

Zuko gently reached out for her hand, drawing her attention back to him and the soft smile on his face.

“Well… I care about you. You’re nice to me, and you take time out of your day to help me which you don’t have to do. This is just me trying to pay you back for all you’ve done to help me. We can do this more often — whenever my dad’s busy.”

Her own smile grew on her lips and she nodded as she laced her fingers with his. “I care about you too. And.. I’d like that.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder and together, they watched the sunset over the city.

There was no place either of them would rather be.

Y/N and Zuko made their way back to the palace as quickly as they could after realizing how late it had gotten. Y/N was sure that she was going to get the talking-to of her life after what she had done, but she was almost giddy after what had just happened. She could deal with any of Kura’s consequences later — right now the only thought in her mind was the feeling of Zuko’s hand in hers.

The night had been nothing short of perfect. She had felt freer than ever before out there in the city with Zuko, and knowing that he reciprocated the feelings she had for him was enough to make her heart burst. She cared for him, and he cared for her.

Of course, there was that nagging question of how they would continue now that their friendship had morphed into something more, but once again — it was something she would deal with later. Her fourth and final mistake.

But as a guard turned the corner, Y/N realized she might not get the chance. She quickly let go of Zuko’s hand and tucked it under the bundle of fabric, hoping that the gesture of affection had been missed by the man.

If he had noticed, he showed no sign of it. He stopped in front of them, a gruff voice speaking from behind the mask with words that made her heart stop.

“Prince Zuko, the Fire Lord has requested an audience with you.”

haha OOPS

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27

atla: @marianne1806

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko fic #zuko #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar fic #avatar the last airbender fic #atla #atla fic #zuko avatar #sadie writes

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Lie to Me

Prompts: Post Pof: Janus is not doing ok, everday he can taste Roman's lies, he can feel Roman's pain. He can feel the ego crumbling. Guilt plagues him as hes done the opposite of protecting the ego. Hey uh... could you write a fic when you have the time? - meltheromanstan

Roman is having issues trying to keep up his facade (and maybe struggling with his work cause ADHD makes everything difficult on top of everything because I love the idea of the twins having ADHD) and he is one bump in the road away from a full on meltdown. And Janus realizes a lie in a conversation that’s concerning and at some point in Roman begrudgingly gives a self deprecating reason and Janus is like heck no and Roman’s like why not and Janus is like because i care? And then Roman breaks down because no one has told him anything like that in a long time. Sorry that’s so long. You can write this whenever, or never if you don’t wanna. Anygay, bye and thank you! - anon

Thank you for the requests! oh this poor man. roman i'm so sorry you didn't do anything to deserve this and here I am hurting you. I'm so sorry bb you need to be wrapped up with a hot chocolate and sat far away from everything.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-hatred, self-doubt, poor roman’s got so much internalized hatred this poor man, some things that can be interpreted as self-harm but nothing explicit

Pairings: main focus on roceit but it can be platonic or romantic you decide, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Word Count: 10,554

Janus hears every single lie in the Mindscape. It doesn't matter whether or not the liar believes it to be true or knows it's a falsehood; if it isn't true, he hears it.

Roman lies. A lot.

Or: 5 times Janus had to hide that he was taking care of Roman, and 1 time he didn't.

They never gave Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he can be.

The wedding is an absolute dumpster fire. The aftermath is a nuclear explosion. Roman sinks out in silence, long before the video is over. Virgil never shows up, neither does Remus. Logan is cut off before he can realize it.

Well, that’s not true.

Janus cuts Logan off before he can realize it.

Because he didn’t care about them, no. Patton has the most influence over Thomas. Patton is the one who influences the other Sides more than they realize most of the time. And Patton is the one who needed to listen.

So it didn’t matter that the others weren’t there when Janus had to talk to Patton and Thomas, because it worked. Thomas listened, Patton finally understood, and things could start getting better.

…or so he thought.

In fairness, the others came around…fairly quickly. He approached Logan with a book on philosophy and an apology on his lips, only to be swept up into a conversation that had drawn both Patton and Virgil into the living room by the end of the day. It felt…well, right isn’t the correct word, but…warm, perhaps. Yes, let’s go with warm.

Of course, Remus belly-flopping onto the couch—and the rest of them—near the end was certainly an additional factor.

But Roman…

Janus didn’t expect Roman to forgive him. Certainly not quickly. He certainly expected Roman to forgive the others for whatever little parts they played in harming the prince’s precious ego. And he absolutely expected the prince to admit that he was wrong, that it was indeed his fault that everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.

The first time Roman walks into the kitchen after the wedding, Janus flinches.

Virgil notices and all but jumps in front of him, snarling a ‘what do you want?’ in Roman’s direction. Patton had turned around and his smile had frozen, staring at Roman.

“Hello, Roman,” Logan says cooly, “may we help you?”

“Yeesh, aren’t you lot jumpy this morning?” Roman shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “I am not here to grace you all with my glorious presence, simply to grab a little food and depart on a quest!”

“Thank god,” Virgil mutters, too low for Roman to hear.

He pushes Janus behind him as Roman waltzes into the kitchen to take something out of the cupboard.

“…when will you be back,” Patton asks warily, “and where are you going?”

“Into the Imagination, my dear Padre!” Roman spreads his arms wide. “To see where the spirit of adventure takes me!”

“That answers only one of the questions.” Logan closes his notebook sharply.

“Time is a social construct,” Roman says airily, “but I suppose I shall try to return for dinner?”

“Don’t force yourself,” Virgil snarks, crossing his arms, “looks hard enough already.”

Roman just laughs and leaves.

“Goodness,” Patton mumbles, leaning on the counter, “I didn’t expect him to be so—so—“

“Roman?” Virgil rolls his eyes. “Princey’s got a head bigger than a fucking balloon—“

“Language.”

“—and he’s not gonna come down to earth for anything.”

“Roman is—or can be—remarkably immature when it comes to admitting his mistakes,” Logan adds, “it’s not to be completely unexpected that he is still in denial.”

Patton sighs. “I know, I just…expected better.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Virgil huffs, “what about you, Janus? Are you hurt?”

“I also noticed you flinch,” Logan says, standing, “are you alright? Did Roman…”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he, kiddo?”

No. No, Janus is absolutely fine right now.

The instant Roman had appeared in the doorway, the lies slammed into Janus.

They hate you, they never want to see you again.

Everything is your fault.

Virgil is right to try and shield Janus from you, you were so fucking cruel to him.

They don’t deserve to be burdened with you.

Leave. Leave so they never have to put up with you. You know they don’t want you.

They’ve never wanted you.

And yet, as clearly as he heard those lies, he heard Roman, the blustery, pompous Prince, loud as ever, spoiled as ever. He saw Roman, the swaggering adventurer, the cocky Creativity who was always right, always the center of attention.

The actor.

Janus had definitely given him enough credit for that.

“Janus?”

Right, they’re still waiting for an answer.

“I’m fine,” he says, a beat too late, “just caught off guard, that’s all.”

Virgil eyes him suspiciously. “You’re lying.”

“Well of course I am,” Janus sighs, rolling his eyes, “it’s not like Deceit is one of my primary functions, after all.”

“Kiddo,” Patton says, “you know you can tell us if Roman—if someone hurts you, right?”

Something pinches just under his chin. “I know.”

“…so?”

He shakes his head. “Roman hasn’t hurt me, nor has he threatened to.”

Virgil bumps his shoulder. “Just…keep us in the loop, okay?”

“Because it’s very likely that Roman will hurt me.”

The others chuckle or brush it off. Of course, they did. When they aren’t paying attention, Janus lets his gaze trail up the stairs, following the line where the prince vanished. The others have never paid much attention to when Roman returns from his ‘quests.’

Janus does.

Even if Janus weren’t consciously coming to the prince’s aid, he’s certain he’d be summoned regardless.

He waits, quiet in the shadows, for the telltale squeak of the lower hinge on the red wardrobe door in Roman’s room. He’s learned to keep still, keep quiet, not yet fully materialized, watching as Roman stumbles back through the door, one of his arms sagging in relief as the other holds him up. The door creaks shut and a shuddering breath leaves the prince’s chest.

His head bows.

Before the charade completely falls away, Roman pushes himself up and starts getting ready to sleep. His sash, normally laid so carefully over the back of his chair, is given barely a second thought as he throws his costume onto the floor. Janus winces at the slam of the bathroom door and again at the way Roman all but collapses into the bed with a miserable expression on his face. He doesn’t need to pry away the pillow to know that Roman is desperate.

Stupid, stupid, worthless prince.

Not even a fucking prince, not even the fucking squire.

Useless, can’t even do your fucking job.

Can’t even stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself even though you know damn well you don’t deserve it.

You don’t deserve anything.

Janus grits his teeth and waits. Waits for Roman’s lies to grow less vitriolic, more sluggish, waits for Roman’s breathing to even out, sagging against the pillow, before he moves.

His footsteps are silent as he crosses the room, keeping a wary eye on the door, lest someone else knock and wake up the now sleeping prince. He swallows, leaning down, his lips barely brushing the curve of Roman’s ear.

He doesn’t touch, doesn’t want to risk waking him now.

“You’re not stupid, Roman,” he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard, even by himself. “You’re not worthless, you’ve never been worthless.”

Roman shifts in his sleep. Janus freezes. He stills and he breathes out. Bends just a little closer.

“And you deserve to know that.”

Even if he can only even whisper it when Roman is too deep in sleep to hear him.

The lies don’t stop. They just get worse.

Fortunately, Janus’s powers aren’t limited by the physical space, not when the lies are particularly pervasive. For example, every time Logan insists that he doesn’t have feelings, or Virgil insists he doesn’t care about the others, or Patton says—particularly passionately—that everything’s fine, Janus hears it. These ones typically merit a scoff and a roll of the eyes, or a quip if he’s actually in the same room. These ones he’s used to.

Here’s the thing about the lies that Janus can hear; it doesn’t matter whether or not they’re lies that someone knows is a lie or whether it’s something they believe. If it isn’t true, Janus will hear it.

Case in point: Roman’s lies, and the lies that took Janus far too long to figure out were lies.

When he decides to tune into Roman’s mind, he’s normally greeted with statements lauding about how amazing the prince is, how he’s the best Side, how much he loves himself. Even when he’s not paying particular attention to Roman, he can hear those sentiments loud and clear.

The issue with that? He can hear them loud and clear.

Now, is it likely that these are things that Roman believes that aren’t true? The possibility exists.

Is it more likely, given recent…developments, that these are things that Roman has known aren’t true, and is intentionally thinking them in order to keep playing a role?

No, of course not, why would you ever think that?

They won’t go away. He can barely look at Roman now, can’t stop seeing, hearing all the lies he tells himself every day. The others are starting to worry, growing colder towards Roman, concerned about how much Janus tries to put distance between them. Virgil keeps shoving himself in between the two of them, Logan keeps pulling Janus into long conversations that Roman wouldn’t dare insert himself into, Patton makes sure the two of them are never alone.

Well, almost never alone.

The lies are the worst at night. When Roman is in his room, curled up under the covers, his head buried in his hands, they roam freely, coloring the red curtains with shadows, smearing themselves over his paintings, his drawings, his writing, his keyboard.

They’re right to be scared of you, right to hate you.

You don’t deserve their forgiveness, especially when you haven’t even apologized for the amount of things you’ve done wrong.

And you’re selfish enough to want a fucking apology from them?

Janus, waiting in the corner for Roman to fall asleep, winces, the strength and magnitude of the lie filling his mouth with bitterness.

Does he deserve an apology from Roman? Yes, perhaps, that would be nice. Laughing at his name in a moment of vulnerability was…perhaps not ideal.

But the idea that Roman doesn’t deserve an apology? From any of them?

Roman, the only one who consistently defers and gives and tries and hopes for them, the one who works nonstop to make sure they have something, anything to do, for Thomas, for each other, the only one who’s called out to apologize to them, who apologizes to them when he realizes he’s done something wrong?

Roman deserves an apology. If only to make up for the amount of times he’s been blamed for something that someone else started.

A noise.

Janus blinks, coming back to the present as Roman stirs. For a moment, he worries that the prince has woken up, that he’s discovered someone else in his room, only for a trail of sluggish lies to funnel into his mind.

Janus hates you more than anyone else and he’s right to.

You hurt Janus on purpose.

You never stop hurting Janus.

You will always be someone he can use, a puppet, until you are nothing more than an obstacle.

Before he can stop himself, he’s striding across the room to murmur in Roman’s ear again, chest aching with the weight of the lies.

“The others,” he murmurs, flooding the words with as much sincerity as he can, “they don’t know what I can hear, what they have never noticed, and that is what hurts me, my prince, that you are so quiet and so brave that you can convince the world that you’re not suffering.”

Roman clutches his pillow a little tighter.

“I don’t hate you, my prince, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me like that, and I know—“ he takes a deep breath— “I know that the hurt you caused me is nothing compared to what I have done to you.”

He closes his eyes and feels the guilt well up in his chest. He knows he can’t say the full apology that Roman needs—that he deserves right now. He can’t even begin to imagine all the little things he hasn’t even realized he’s done to Roman, how many things he’s done that he’s forgotten that were just another Tuesday to him, but rewrote entire chapters of Roman’s life.

He can’t begin to imagine how much of this could’ve been stopped if only he’d realized just how hurt Roman has always been.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry that I never realized how far I let this get.”

Roman is touch-starved, he realized, horrified one day when he walks into the living room to see Logan and Patton sitting on the couch, Virgil sprawled across their laps, and Roman in the corner, far away from everyone else, hiding such a look of heartbreak that Janus almost stops in the doorway as Remus brushes past him.

“Hey!” Virgil splutters when Remus lies down on top of him.

“Remus!” Patton pushes lightly at him. “You’re going to squish Virgil!”

“He’s durable, he’s used to it.”

Logan raises his eyebrows, looking to Janus for confirmation. Janus sighs.

“I can remember every single time I’ve walked into our living room to see the two of them on the couch,” he says dryly, “and I’m certain that all of them have started with Remus asking Virgil’s permission to lie on top of him for hours.”

“See?” Remus wraps his arms around Virgil. “He’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, Pat and L’s knees won’t be though.”

��Ooh! Did you know that some people have a third bone in their knee?”

“I would be more than happy to follow this train of conversation,” Logan mutters, “if you were to get off my lap.”

“Fine.”

Janus shakes his head again as Remus clambers off, landing cross-legged next to Logan on the couch and immediately info-dumping. Virgil sighs and scoots, laying his head in Patton’s lap and going back to his phone. Patton runs his hand through Virgil’s hair and wiggles his free hand at Janus.

“Come on, there’s plenty of room.”

Remus snorts, interrupting his tirade long enough to say: “Jan-Jan’s not a cuddler,” before going back to talking about…something to do with knees. Patton frowns.

“What?”

“’S true.” Virgil peers up at him. “He’ll hug you if you ask for it but he’s not big on cuddling.”

“O-oh.”

“He should still come sit with us, though,” Virgil says quickly, shooting Janus a very subtle look, “so get over here, J.”

Janus sits, pulling out his book and opening it. After a few seconds, Patton looks away, and Virgil tunes out again.

Good.

The lies were getting a little too hard to stand.

Here, behind his book, he can shift his attention to Roman, scribbling in his notebook and looking every bit the creative genius at work, dead to the world, couldn’t give less interest as to what’s going on around him.

As he said, Roman is a fantastic actor.

This time, it’s not even that the words are the thing hurting him now. No, these lies are the type he’s more used to, someone frantically muttering the same thing to themselves over and over and over, trying to convince themselves it’s true. The problem is what’s being carried with the lies, and how deep this need must run in order for it to make it to Janus.

I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

Roman’s hand is trembling a little on his pen as his brow furrows, eyes skating back and forth over the page. The ache starts just under his chin, right where it meets his throat, and surges, rushing through his arms to the very tips of his fingers. All of them, even the hidden ones. His gloves twitch on the pages of the book.

He’s so cold.

I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

The words start to blur together. It hurts. His arms ache. He risks looking more openly at Roman only for him to notice, looking back and quirking an eyebrow.

“Something wrong, Deceit?”

“He has a name,” Virgil growls.

“Janus,” Roman amends, shooting Virgil a glance, “is there something wrong?”

“Why’re you over there?”

He meant to ask why Roman wasn’t sitting with the other Sides. He meant to ask whether Roman chose to sit by himself and starve himself of physical contact or if the others had cut him off. He meant to ask if Roman wanted to come to sit with the rest of them.

Instead, Roman smiles.

“You’re right. It’s getting quite late. I must be off!”

Before Janus can say anything, Roman assumes his dramatic pose and sinks out, cheerily declaring his farewells.

Next to him, Patton lets out a shaky breath.

“Goodness.”

Logan adjusts his glasses. “Quite.”

“Thanks, Janus,” Virgil mutters, making himself more comfortable, “I thought he’d never leave.”

No.

No, no, no, this is all wrong.

“Why did you want him to leave?”

Virgil shrugs. “It’s harder when he’s here.”

“Harder how?”

“We do not know how to act around Roman,” Logan admits, fixing his tie, “he’s not—well, he seems content to behave as if nothing is wrong, and…”

“It’s not,” Patton says softly. He fiddles with his hands. “We can’t go back to the way it was before, and Roman…Roman doesn’t seem to know how to move on.”

Virgil snorts. “Not that he seems to care enough to try.”

Well, if the lies still plaguing Roman’s thoughts are any indication…

Why would they want to touch you? You ruin everything you touch, haven’t you ruined enough already? Haven’t you ruined them enough already?

They’re done trying with you. They hate you. It’s a wonder they only realize it now.

Broken, useless, toxic prince. Finally left out in the cold where you deserve to be.

Roman curls up under his thin sheet, the heavy blankets put away for the colder seasons too far away and too close to Patton’s room for him to get them safely. Janus watches as he twitches miserably, curling up tighter, turning over, hugging his pillow to his chest, trying, trying to feel warm. Every now and then there’s a quiet noise, quickly stifled. His arms start to ache again, not just from the cold, but from how much Roman seems to believe that no one wants to touch him.

He makes up his mind.

He sinks out to his room, quickly grabbing one of his weighted blankets from his own storage. Returning to Roman’s room, he waits with bated breath until Roman’s chest rises and falls at a steady rate before carefully creeping forward and spreading the blanket over the prince.

“Don’t make yourself cold,” he murmurs, tucking it into place, “stay warm for me, my prince, stay warm, it’s alright.”

Roman shifts, turning his head so it accidentally brushes Janus’s hand.

Janus freezes.

Roman hums slightly and falls back asleep. Shaking, Janus moves his fingers, letting them card through Roman’s hair. The prince mumbles and doesn’t wake.

He does it again, firmer this time. Roman all but melts under this, just this, just a proper blanket over him and someone running their fingers through his hair.

“Oh, Roman,” Janus murmurs, unable to resist cupping Roman’s face in his hand, “you’re don’t ruin everything you touch, far from it.”

He cups the back of Roman’s head, guiding it to a more comfortable angle.

“On the contrary,” he whispers, “you make us better.”

And maybe…maybe he can try and provide a little of what Roman needs. Even if they have to be stolen moments, felt only on the very edges of sleep, when Roman is conscious enough to remember them but not lucid enough to lie and say he doesn’t deserve it.

The time when Roman barely managed to stumble through the door in his room before passing out is the only time Janus seriously considers calling the others to help.

But no, he reminds himself as he rushes to the prince’s side, they would want to wake him up, to scold him, to figure out exactly what he thought he was doing, whether or not he’s considered whether this is hurting Thomas.

Janus bites back a growl as he starts examining the prince.

Perhaps if they were so concerned about whether or not hurting Roman hurts Thomas, they’d be more considerate about what they say to him.

He pushes that away for now, more focused on getting Roman’s tight collar away from his neck and checking the state of his bruises. From what he can see from the dirt on the costume, he’s fallen, from quite a significant height, and who knows what else might be hiding under here?

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he looks around for something to help, “but I may have to peel you out of these.”

Sure enough, he can get most of the costume top off fairly easily—and gains a newfound respect for how difficult it must be to put the thing on by himself, there are so many buttons—but the undershirt proves more difficult, especially as it seems to be stuck in places that it should not be stuck in.

…oh.

Oh, no.

Janus bites back a curse and moves quickly. One arm reaches for the first aid kit he knows is in the bathroom, one arm grabs a pillow and stuffs it under Roman’s head, two gently move his arms up and over his head, and two carefully, carefully take the edge of the undershirt and beginning to take it off.

He presses a gauze pad to the wound over Roman’s hip.

He holds an ice pack to the swollen lump on his rib cage.

He checks over the wound on his chest.

He tilts Roman’s head from side to side to see how far up the bruises go.

The pants have to come next and Janus grits his teeth, running his hand over Roman’s forehead as an apology before he shucks the article of clothing.

More bruises. So many bruises. Thankfully no more bleeding wounds.

He lets out a breath and sits back on his haunches, staring down at the injured prince.

The best thing about it, he decides, is that there’s no way for Roman to know that he would’ve been safe passing out and not taking care of any of these.

The wound on his hip has all but stopped bleeding as Janus tends to it carefully, wiping away the blood and soothing the angry skin with a balm, covering the whole thing with a bandage. The mark on his chest isn’t as bad as it looks, bits of dead skin that Janus clears away and brushes off Roman’s torso. The antiseptic makes him hiss a little and he rubs soothing circles into his tummy until he resettles, murmuring that he’s doing so well, he’s almost done, they’ll get him into bed and he can rest.

None of the bruises on his legs are bad enough to merit bruise cream, let alone keeping the poor thing from his bed for a moment longer. Instead, Janus quickly covers the one on his ribs and lifts the prince into his arms.

Roman jolts.

“Shh, shh,” Janus murmurs, stroking a free hand through his hair, “shh, shh, shh…”

Roman shushes, just in time for Janus to lie him down and tuck him in, one hand still in his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed. A furrow grows between his brows.

Should’ve gotten hurt worse.

Janus freezes.

Should’ve let them hit you more.

Got off too easy.

It should hurt more. You deserve it. Maybe if you pay enough it’ll get better.

“No, sweetie,” Janus whispers, reaching out before he can stop himself and cradling Roman’s sleeping head in his hands, “no, no, no, don’t ever believe that we want to see you hurt.”

Shouldn’t have come back.

Shouldn’t be a burden.

At least none of the others know about it, they would only complain and ignore you. Useless, worthless prince.

“You’re not worthless, sweetie,” Janus promises, still cradling the poor thing’s head, running his fingers through his hair to keep him lulled and asleep, “shh, now, everything’s alright, hush now…”

As the lies drift off into nothingness, Roman along with them, Janus’s face falls.

Roman is the protector. The prince that will always put himself between them and whatever dared to try and hurt them. He’s not meant to fight a war on two fronts.

Who protects the protector?

“I will, sweetie,” Janus whispers, so, so quietly as he tidies up Roman’s room and gives the sleeping prince one last pat, “I’ll look after you.”

Roman, perhaps more than any of the others, is essential to Thomas’s mental help.

Roman is Thomas’s hopes and dreams, the things he wants above all else, the things he strives for, the things he desires. He reaches and reaches and reaches for Thomas, holds every single one of his wants close to his chest, and keeps them safe until they can bubble up into reality.

Roman is romance, the reason Patton gets all fluttery and bubbly inside. He’s the suave, fabulous, gay disaster that encourages Thomas to be happy, to reach for who he wants, for who he desires.

Roman is creativity, the livelihood that Thomas has chosen. He works nonstop, tirelessly producing idea after idea for Thomas to film, to write, to create, so Thomas can live and be proud of what he’s doing.

Roman is the Ego.

What is the Ego, you may ask? Well, although Freud is largely considered bullshit by modern psychologists—or at the very least, upsetting due to the fact that his research was largely corrupted by the rich men funding it—there are certain aspects of his work that remain in the public mind.

Simply put, the Ego is the conscious mind. It is the sum of your thoughts, beliefs, and habits as they interact with your physical body. The tether that stretches into your awareness and consciousness and into your physical form. It is a combination of body-thoughts-feelings and the consciousness taken to activate it.

The Ego gives you a sense of self-worth. It is a mask, one you put on and play as a role.

Everyone and anyone, it seems, has been warned about the dangers of an out-of-control Ego. Overconfident, hubristic, arrogant, with no regard for others. A vapid complainer, sustained by the power of approval hoarded selfishly. You are encouraged, if not instructed outright, to learn how to live without paying any attention to your Ego.

Here’s what they don’t tell you.

The Ego is what you think of yourself. It gives you self-worth because that’s its job. To make you feel secure in who you are. It is sustained by approval because it lives in fear. It itself puts on a mask of strength, of imperviousness, that it is indestructible, because it is soft, malleable, and so very afraid.

It is true that the Ego is nourished by positive comments, because it isn’t a crime to feel good, or to feel proud, or to want to be validated. It is true that the Ego sometimes reaches too high, only to fall, because that is its nature, to want, and to hope.

They don’t tell you that when you turn your hatred inwards, your Ego doesn’t just bruise, it crumbles.

So when Logan constantly tells Roman that they can’t do something, or it isn’t a worthy use of their time, despite his best intentions, he’s not doing much other than snatching Roman’s dreams away. Roman learns not to ignore Logan, yes, but at the expense of constantly being told that it is his fault when Thomas feels crushed, never mind that Roman is crushed, too.

So when Virgil insults and belittles his worth, tells him he’s stupid and unimportant, despite the fact that Roman will snipe back at him, all he does is reinforce the idea that Roman is the only one at fault, that Virgil is allowed to sit and insult him to his heart’s content while Roman has to apologize for standing up for himself. Roman learns to stand quietly while Virgil tells Thomas he’s a disappointment until the time comes where he believes it’s true.

So when Patton decides that Roman is bad, after how much Roman has sacrificed for Patton, to do what would make Patton happy, Thomas happy, when all he needs is just someone on his side, something, anything, Roman has to stand there, alone, hurt, angry, upset, and be told that he’s wrong. Roman learns that he’s only here to give, not to receive, that no one will hold him when he falls apart.

So when Remus starts to show up, more and more, less and less restrained, no one puts it together that Roman literally does not have the strength to hold him back. Roman learns that the others don’t realize how little confidence he already has, only that their approval of him is directly proportional to how much they hate his brother.

So when Janus decides that Thomas needs to take better care of himself and that the only one he needs to focus on is Patton, Roman is the perfect tool, the perfect puppet, to be used and tossed aside when he no longer needs him, because it’s so easy to twist and turn the little prince so he dances in just the right way, never mind how much it hurts. Roman learns that no one ever cared about him, not really, and perhaps they never will.

As you might be able to imagine, destroying the thing that gives one self-worth is absolutely the best way to go about things.

Can any of you guess where the blame gets pushed when Thomas’s mental health suddenly plummets?

It’s definitely where it should be.

The thing that scares Janus the most about how that meeting goes is how resigned Roman is.

His hands are folded neatly behind his back. His face is politely blank. His mind is quiet.

When there’s a break in the conversation—if you could even call it that—he opens his mouth.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Have you not been listening?” Logan adjusts his glasses. “To…anything we have said?”

“Of fucking course he hasn’t,” Virgil grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Kiddo,” Patton admonishes, crossing his arms, “Thomas hasn’t had any ideas or dreams lately and it’s stressing him out.”

“Which means you need to get out of the pity party and back to reality with the rest of us,” Virgil adds.

“Which means,” Logan sighs, crossing his arms too, “you are going to have to start talking to us again.”

Roman looks between them. “Are we not…talking now?”

“He means actually interacting with us, Princey.”

“Have I…not been doing that?”

“It means accepting that things have changed,” Logan snaps, “and working through it.”

Roman tilts his head. “How would you like me to do that?”

“Well—“ Logan adjusts his glasses— “let’s start with an apology.”

Something flickers across Roman’s face. Janus looks back and forth between Thomas and Remus. Thomas just looks a little confused as to what’s going on—which, when doesn’t he?—and Remus is staring right at Roman. There’s a strange expression on his face.

“What would you like me to apologize for?”

Janus winces when Virgil scoffs, turning away, and Logan’s mouth hardens into a thin line.

“Why don’t you try starting,” Patton says, “and we’ll see.”

“No, you know what? No.” Virgil points a finger at Roman. “I’m done holding your hand through all of this. Waiting for you to realize that you fucked up.”

“Virgil—“

“No, Pat!” Virgil gestures between the three of them. “You know how hard it’s been on us, waiting for something to change, and now he wants us to just…what, walk him through what he did wrong?”

Patton spares a glance at Roman before looking away.

Roman’s face twitches. He looks down.

“Perhaps Virgil is right,” Logan says, “when Roman can try taking the first step, then maybe this conversation will be more productive. Until then, I see no reason to waste time.”

“Great. Bye, Thomas.”

“Wait, you guys are just leaving?”

“I see no reason to simply stand here and be unproductive,” Logan shrugs, “perhaps if something changes, you can summon us back.”

“Doubt it,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Logan’s shoulder and sinking them out. Patton spares one last look at Roman before he leaves too.

Thomas shuffles a little. Remus keeps staring at Roman.

After a moment, Roman moves.

“…you want me to apologize?”

Janus definitely imagines the chill that goes through the room.

Roman raises his head. He does not look at where Patton stood, he does not look at where Virgil stood, he does not look at where Logan stood.

He looks directly at Thomas.

“I’m sorry, Thomas.”

Thomas splutters. “Roman—“

“I’m sorry that I sent you to the wedding,” Roman says softly, Thomas’s words dying in his throat, “I’m sorry that I made a decision that I thought you wanted. I’m sorry that I tried to put your friends above your own wants, because I thought that was right. I’m sorry that I thought I was doing what was right.”

Thomas’s eyes go wide.

“I’m sorry that you never had faith that you would win the callback,” Roman continues, never once looking away from Thomas, “I’m sorry that your dreams are always too far away, that you must always feel the need to crush them in favor of what is more practical. I’m sorry that you constantly feel like you’re set up to be one big disappointment.”

Janus’s arms drop in shock.

“I’m sorry that I can’t do what you want,” and by this point, Thomas looks on the verge of tears, “even though that’s supposed to be my job. I’m sorry that nothing I do is ever good enough on its own, that you feel so afraid, so scared of doing the things you want. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel even the tiniest bit of my fear.”

Thomas stifles a noise.

“I’m sorry that I don’t know things.” Roman chuckles sadly. “I’m sorry that it takes me so much time to figure out what to do. I’m sorry that it always feels like everyone’s one step ahead of me, that you have to wait for me to catch up, even though I never, ever do. I’m sorry for not sticking to the plan.”

Something heavy presses against Janus’s throat.

“And I’m sorry that I’m hurt. I’m sorry that it’s been a little too much for me to handle. I’m sorry that my pain is an inconvenience to you.”

“R-Roman—“

Roman just smiles sadly when Thomas can’t finish the sentence. He spreads his arms, giving a little gesture to himself.

“I’m sorry that this is your Ego.”

Janus sees the moment the horrified realization dawns on Thomas’s face.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Remus snarls and it’s only years of practice that makes Janus’s reflexes fast enough to catch hold of him before he sinks out. “Let me go!”

“You can’t hurt them,” Janus grunts, “you know you can’t.”

“Fucking watch me!”

“No, no, Remus,” Thomas splutters, “don’t—don’t do that.”

“Why the fuck not?” Remus snarls, spittle flying from his lips as he struggles against Janus’s hold. “You heard what Roman just said, they—they—“

“We did it too, Remus,” Janus says softly, glancing at Roman, “we’re not blameless either.”

Remus keeps struggling. “Let—me—“

“Remus.”

Roman’s soft voice still the duke entirely, his head whipping around. Roman just stares at him, resignation and acceptance written plainly on his features.

“It’s not fair, Ro,” he mumbles.

“Life isn’t fair.”

“I—I can summon them back, we can get them back, they can listen to you—“

“But they won’t,” Roman cuts off in the same soft fury, “they won’t listen to me.”

“Roman, they love you!”

Janus winces. Roman just turns to look at him. He can’t meet his eyes.

“Maybe,” Roman says eventually, “maybe not. Either way…”

He spreads his hands.

“Here we are.”

“Let me go, Jan.”

“If I do, will you stay?”

“Fine.”

Janus lets him go, only for Remus to lunge and wrap his brother in a tight hug. Roman stands there, immobile, until Remus lets out a howl. Roman just murmurs another soft ‘I’m sorry,' and sinks out.

Remus collapses to the floor, his Morningstar cupped in his hands.

“What—what just happened?”

“The twins share things,” Janus murmurs quietly, his eyes still on Remus, “including emotions when they are particularly strong.”

“So—“ Thomas shakes his head— “so Remus is feeling what Roman’s feeling?”

“No,” Remus snarls, still gripping the weapon tightly, “I’m feeling what Roman isn’t feeling.”

He stands up, eyes blazing.

“I am what Roman isn’t. To you. What Roman isn’t, I am. Which means—“ his knuckles turn white— “the fact that I’m feeling so strongly right now means that Roman isn’t.”

Thomas goes pale. “What?”

“Roman is numb,” Janus says quietly, “he’s closed himself off from…everything. To protect himself.”

“It means my brother, the good Creativity, passion, desire, romance, hopes and dreams, whatever you want to call him,” Remus growls, “is now numb, touch-starved, and too afraid of rejection to reach out for anything.”

“What do I do,” Thomas asks frantically, “how do we fix this?”

“You can let me kill the others.”

“No, Remus.”

“Talk to them,” Janus suggests instead, “I’m not sure they realize what Roman being the Ego means.”

Thomas nods. “Okay, we can do that. Should we do that…now?”

Janus opens his mouth to respond only for something very familiar to trickle into his mind, along with an all-too-familiar tug.

Stupid, useless, worthless, toxic, dumb, unimportant, bad, can’t do anything right, selfish, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong—

“Not now,” he manages, “get some rest. You need it.”

Thomas nods tiredly. Remus just gives him a look that says ‘you’d better not fuck this up’ and leaves, probably to go work out some of his aggression on creatures in the Imagination.

Janus sinks straight into Roman’s room and his heart breaks.

Roman is on the floor, pieces of his prince costume thrown haphazardly around him, sobbing hysterically. It’s so loud that for a moment, Janus worries that someone else will come, trying to figure out what’s wrong, before he’s hit with another wave of lies.

Broken broken broken broken broken broken broken broken wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless—

He aches.

Because he knows he can’t do anything while Roman’s awake. He’d never let him close, never let him see this. A sick feeling crawls into Janus’s stomach at the thought of invading Roman’s privacy like this but it wars with the knowledge that he’d be summoned anyway, and that Roman is falling apart.

So he has to wait.

Watching as Roman falls apart, believing himself unloved, unwanted, and unseen.

Slowly, far too slowly, the harsh sobs morph into softer cries, then sniffles, then Roman stills, slumping on the carpet as his breathing evens out. Tears of his own threaten the corners of Janus’s eyes.

The poor thing cried himself to sleep.

But as he moves closer, reaching out a hand to stroke back his hair, he lets out a coo before he can stop himself when he sees more tears.

The poor thing cried himself to sleep and kept crying.

“Oh, sweetie,” Janus whispers, moving to cradle him as gently as he can without waking him, “sweetie you come here, shh, shh, honey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

He lifts the poor prince into his arms, moving swiftly to the bed and laying him down, tucking him in protectively and running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re safe now, it’s okay, you’re safe…” He settles Roman’s head on the pillow. “Shh, shh, shh, that’s it, shh…”

Sleep-clumsy fingers curl around his arms. Oh. Oh, dear. Well…

“Oh, sweetie, are you—do you want me to stay?” Janus tries to pull away a bit only for Roman to grumble and hang on. “Oh—okay, sweetie, I’ll stay, just—just a moment.”

He snaps the fingers on a free hand and changes into something softer, something he can sleep in, something Roman can hold and cuddle. He slides into bed next to him, only to be immediately cuddled by a sleeping, still crying Roman.

“Shh, sweetie,” he whispers, nuzzling Roman’s head, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving, I won’t leave you.”

Roman mumbles something and snuggles into Janus’s chest. He makes another comforting noise at the evidence of more tears.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetie, I promise, I’ll look after you, I’ll take care of you.”

And when Roman lets out a little cry, still asleep, he breaks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Roman melts.

“Oh, sweetie…”

Janus spoils him with kisses, across his forehead, down his tear-stained cheeks, running his hands through his hair, down his arms, over his back, soothing a particularly painful hitch with a hand on his tummy, rubbing gently until he lapses back into a peaceful sleep. He buries his face in Roman’s hair and holds him tight.

He swallows heavily, guilt and concern warring in his throat.

“I don’t want you to think,” he begins carefully, “that I’m only apologizing because I feel guilty over seeing you hurt and that it’s my fault.”

He tightens his grip on the sleeping prince.

“I am sorry, Roman,” he whispers with his lips against Roman’s forehead as if to speak the truth into the prince’s dreams, “for all the hurt I have caused you. For using and manipulating you, for dismissing you and letting you think you were useless, and for letting the others make you believe you were so unlovable.”

He shudders, his breath coming out shaky.

“But mostly…” he swallows, “mostly I’m sorry that I won’t be brave enough to say that to you when you’re awake.”

+1.

Janus blinks. There’s sunlight coming in through the curtains.

His room definitely has curtains.

Oh. Right. He’s in Roman’s room.

Shit, he’s still in Roman’s room.

He’s fallen asleep, he realizes, in Roman’s bed, with Roman cuddled protectively to his chest, after the poor thing had sobbed himself to sleep in the aftermath of that awful, awful meeting.

Unconsciously, he goes to tighten his grip on the sleeping prince before realizing that he should be doing the opposite.

He should leave. Now. Before Roman wakes up and sees him.

He definitely wants to be around for that conversation.

So, despite the ache in his stomach at the thought of leaving Roman alone right now, he grits his teeth and starts trying to disentangle himself from Roman, despite Roman’s best efforts to cling onto him. If he weren’t so afraid of the consequences of getting caught, he’d find it adorable.

Okay, maybe he still finds it adorable.

But Roman’s so soft when he sleeps, so lovely, so unabashed at chasing what he wants. He clings to Janus’s shirt with clumsy fingers, burbles soft noises of protest when Janus’s warmth leaves his side.

“Come on, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, gently prying Roman’s fingers off, “let me go, you don’t want me to be here when you wake up.”

“Mmno.”

“You say that now…” He still won’t let go. “Come on, sweetie, let me go…”

He leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, hoping Roman will melt and he can escape.

“That’s it, just go back to sleep, sweetie,” he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic, carding his fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead, “sleep, sleep, sleep…”

“Stay,” comes the sleepy little mumble, its voice still lost in the dream, “take care ‘f me.”

The earnest plea brings a sad little smile to Janus’s face.

“If you knew who I was,” he whispers, “you wouldn’t ask that.”

Roman opens his eyes and stares right at him.

Janus freezes, his hands still caught in Roman’s hair, Roman’s hands still gripping his shirt.

“Stay,” Roman repeats, his tongue thick with sleep but awake, “don’t run away this time.”

This time?

Oh.

Oh, no.

Janus swallows. “How long—“

“You said you didn’t hate me,” Roman mumbles, still tugging on Janus’s shirt to get him back, “and that it hurt more that the others didn’t realize.”

“You were supposed to be asleep.”

“You were supposed to hate me.” Roman tugs harder. “Come back.”

Janus gets slowly back into position, letting Roman cling to him like a child with a teddy bear. Without permission, his own arms wrap around the sleepy prince, and Roman all but purrs.

“We c’n talk later,” the prince mumbles, already drifting back to sleep, “but stay. Want you to stay.”

And…well, if it’s the first time Roman’s asked for something he wants in god knows how long, what else is Janus supposed to do but obey?

“Alright, sweetie, I’m right here,” he murmurs, curling his arms tightly around the poor prince, “do you want to try and go back to sleep?”

“Mm.”

But his eyes don’t drift closed. Instead, they stay glassily alert, one hand fisted loosely in the slack of Janus’s shirt.

“Sweetie,” Janus calls after a little, “do you want to change into something easier to sleep in?”

He lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.

“Can I help?”

Another shrug. Janus tucks a loose piece of hair behind Roman’s ear, snapping his fingers to put the costume on the mannequin in the closet and replace it with a soft red shirt and boxers. He presses another kiss to Roman’s forehead and ruffles his hair.

“Why don’t you hate me?”

Janus frowns, pulling Roman closer. “How could I hate you?”

He holds a finger gently up to the prince’s lips before the lies can fill Roman’s head again.

“Let me rephrase: I don’t hate you, Roman, I promise.”

Roman’s disbelief is palpable. “But why?”

...maybe he is going to have to do this.

“I can hear lies,” he murmurs, “whenever someone says them or thinks them. If they’re not true, I’ll hear it. No, no—stay here, sweetie, shh, I’m not angry, I’m not disappointed. I can hear them when you tell yourself that you’re worthless, or toxic, or that we all hate you.”

He lifts Roman’s chin gently.

“They’re lies, sweetie, that’s why I can hear them. You’re not worthless, you’re not toxic.”

Roman whimpers.

“You’re not broken,” he continues softly, holding him still, “you’re not hard to love, we don’t hate you.”

He cups Roman’s face and pulls him in to rest their foreheads together.

“And I care about you, sweetie, so, so much.”

Roman’s breath shudders warmly on his cheeks.

“Shh, shh, oh, come here, sweetie—there you go, you can cry, honey, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh...”

The weight of the prince’s tears drying on his collar makes it hard to swallow. He tugs the blankets closer around them and lets Roman cling onto him as he cries.

“I know you don’t believe me,” he whispers as familiar lies start to drift across, “but it’s true, sweetie. It’s true, it’s true, I promise. I’m here to take care of you.”

“I’m—I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor—sorry—“

“Shh-shh-shh, don’t apologize to me, sweetie, you don’t have to apologize, I’m right here, I’m not angry, nothing’s so bad.”

“I’m sorry.”

Janus hushes him gently with a kiss to his cheek. “I know you are...even though you don’t have to be, not like this.”

His chest aches when Roman won’t stop burbling apologies.

“Roman.” He takes the prince’s face firmly in his hands. “Roman, look at me.”

Roman’s glassy eyes fixate on Janus’s face.

“I forgive you, my prince,” he says, “I forgive you.”

Roman’s mouth stills.

“If that is what you need to hear,” he continues, softening his grip, “I forgive you, my prince.”

“You...you do?”

“I don’t want you to think that you need my forgiveness for me to love you,” Janus murmurs, “but yes, sweetie. I forgive you.”

Roman collapses.

Janus catches him. Of course, he catches him. He curls around his prince and murmurs sweet nothings, reassurances, anything he needs right now.

It’s messy, it’s frantic, it’s desperate, it’s human.

He can care for Roman while Roman lets himself be human. So he holds the poor thing while he cries himself out.

He doesn’t cry himself to sleep again, thankfully, just enough to slump against Janus��s chest and huff.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, that was long overdue.” He runs his knuckles up Roman’s back. “Can we get you something to drink?”

Roman stiffens. “Does that mean going downstairs?”

“No, sweetie. Come on...”

He gets Roman seated on the edge of the bed with a glass of water in his hands. Roman drinks, blinking as Janus passes him a warm cloth, then a cool cloth, to clean his face.

“What do they want me to do,” he asks after he’s finished the glass and the cloths are hanging over the laundry basket, “now?”

Janus winces. Is he surprised? No.

“Shh, sweetie, I’m not angry,” he soothes when Roman tenses, “I’m concerned. You’re still—you still need to take care of yourself first before you worry about everyone else.”

But everyone else is worthy of the worrying, not me.

Janus hisses gently. Roman just sighs.

“It’s what you’ve told me,” he mumbles, “I don’t—I can’t just stop it.”

“I’m not expecting you to be able to just stop it, sweetie, it’s going to take time, but part of it is going to be recognizing what’s not true.”

“I know.”

Janus opens his mouth to say something else when Roman gasps, his hand flying to his chest.

“Sweetie? Sweetie, what is it?”

“I’m—I’m being summoned.” Roman clutches his shirt, staring up at Janus. “Thomas—Thomas—“

“I’ll go.” Janus gives Roman’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just wait here for me, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”

He can still feel the warmth of Roman’s shoulder tingling under his palm as he appears in the living room.

“I’m sure you have a wonderful reason for trying to summon Roman,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at a Thomas.

Thomas looks up from his computer. “We were still filming.”

Janus stiffens. “You’re not thinking of trying to continue—“

“What? No, no, I’m saying that while Roman was talking the camera was still rolling.” Thomas points to the screen. “Which means we have it. All of it.”

Ah, now he sees where Thomas is going.

“You want them to watch.”

“They should, shouldn’t they?”

Yes, a bitter part of Janus growls, they should see how badly they’ve made Thomas’s Ego crumble.

“What do you think?”

Thomas rolls his shoulders back. “I think up until Roman said...all of that, I didn’t think the others were wrong either.”

He glances up at Janus.

“Did you?”

Janus huffs. “I don’t think we ever give Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he is.”

With that, the whole sorry tale spills out of him. He doesn’t reveal the exact nature of the lies, just the broad swaths of them and how many there are. To Thomas’s credit, he deals with it better than Janus expected. That is, he doesn’t burst into tears.

Thomas takes a deep breath.

“...yeah, we’re watching this now.”

“Right now?”

“Answer me this,” Thomas says, looking up at him again, “where is Roman? Right now?”

“...on his bed.” At Thomas’s pointed stare, he relents. “He’s not alright, Thomas, he hasn’t been for a very long time.”

“Then yeah. Right now.”

“Then I’m going to ask Roman if he wants to be here.”

Thomas nods. “Can you—can you tell him I’m sorry?”

“You can do that yourself when he’s ready to hear it.”

Understandably, Roman does not want to be there. Janus wraps him tightly in the softest blankets he has, tucked up with a pillow and a glass of water nearby if he wants it, along with the reassurance that if Roman wants him back here, at any point, to call. He’ll listen.

“Thank you.”

Janus leaves him with one last squeeze, appearing in the living room with the others. Thomas is back to setting up the computer so they can all see the screen.

“Thomas?” Logan adjusts his tie. “I was unaware we had something scheduled for today.”

“We didn’t. Spur of the moment.”

Remus shoots Janus a look. Janus nods. Remus shifts a little closer to him and his hand grips his Morningstar.

“Is this about the video from yesterday?” Virgil looks around warily. “Or is it something else?”

“It is about yesterday.”

“Shouldn’t we...wait for Roman?” Patton rubs the back of his neck. “He kinda—well, if we’re talking about yesterday—“

“Roman’s not coming.” Thomas keeps fiddling with the computer.

Logan raises an eyebrow. “Are we deciding how to film the video without Roman?”

“No.” Thomas glances at Janus. Janus nods. Thomas looks back at the others. “Roman’s not coming because he doesn’t want to.”

“What the fuck?”

“Language, kiddo,” Patton mumbles halfheartedly.

“Wait, so—“ Virgil doesn’t look so much as chided— “you’re just gonna let Princey throw his temper tantrum and not come work?”

“How much attention were you guys paying to what happened after you sunk out yesterday?”

“…not much, why?”

In response, Thomas just pushes ‘play.’

Their voices fill the room, telling Roman what he’s done wrong, why he’s holding all of them back, why he’s the source of all their problems. Lies, lies, and more lies. They get to the part where the other three sink out and Remus tightens his grip on the handle.

“…you want me to apologize?”

Virgil opens his mouth, presumably to make some quip, only to cut himself off with a strangled noise once Roman’s apologies begin.

Janus watches with a sick sense of satisfaction as Patton’s hands fly to his mouth, eyes wide at the hopeless tone coming out of the computer. Next to him, Virgil goes rigid, borderline catatonic. He looks as if one little push would send him toppling over.

He can’t see Logan’s face until Thomas stops the playback. It’s only when Logan takes his glasses off to clean them that he can see the tears on his cheeks.

Thomas looks up at Janus.

“Can you still hear them?”

“The lies?” Thomas nods. “Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Roman is the Ego,” Logan whispers, mostly to himself, “Roman is the Ego. Of course…of course, I understand—I understand now.”

“What does that mean?”

Logan takes a deep breath and looks up at Patton. “It means that Roman is Thomas’s sense of self-worth, more or less, and that he—he takes the brunt of Thomas’s reactions to…any sort of feedback, more than any of us. Good or bad.”

Virgil stifles a curse. “And we’ve taught him to hate himself.”

“Quite.”

“We—“ Patton takes a breath— “we need to apologize.”

“We all do.” Thomas closes the computer and sets it aside. “I don’t…I don’t know how we do that, though.”

“Breaking patterns of thinking is hard,” Logan says, “and…especially hard when you have been taught not to ask for help.”

“But there has to be something!”

“Touch-starved,” Virgil breaks in, staring at a spot on the carpet, “Roman’s touch-starved.”

Janus raises an eyebrow.

“…when I was still having trouble,” Virgil says after a moment of them all looking at him, “Roman—Roman would just come and ask me if I wanted to—to—“

He hunches his shoulders.

“Sometimes it’d be a hug. Sometimes he’d sit next to me and—and lean on me. Sometimes he’d just—you know, with the forehead thing—“

“Bonk.”

They all turn to Logan, who has…a surprising flush to his cheeks.

“Roman said that he—he wanted to be able to express affection for me and not disturb my work,” he manages, “so we…came up with a solution.”

Patton blinks. “Is that why Roman will just walk up to you and bonk his forehead against yours?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

“That’s adorable,” Thomas says quietly, “that’s—wait, hang on, that’s really adorable.”

“It was Roman’s idea.” Logan swallows. “Most of his ideas are good.”

“Yeah,” Thomas says, “maybe we should try telling him that next time.”

Janus looks around. The others look to be in various states of remorse and determination. With the exception of Remus, who still looks like he wants to bash a few of their skulls in.

“…can we go hug Roman now?”

“I wanna do that.”

“If he’s—“ Logan glances between Thomas and Janus— “do you know if he would be amenable to that? If he—would like that?”

“We can ask,” Janus says quietly, “but I don’t know.”

“And if he says no,” Remus growls, “you get out.”

“We understand, Remus,” Logan promises. He looks at Thomas. “Thank you, Thomas.”

Thomas shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. Not yet. We all have stuff to fix.”

Janus adjusts his cape. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

They don’t sink right to Roman’s room. Instead, Janus knocks quietly on the door and waits for the soft ‘yes?’ from the other side to open it.

“Roman,” he calls softly, “hey, sweetie, why’re you over there?”

Because Roman, the poor thing, is at his desk, trying to work.

“I—um—“

“I’m not angry, sweetie,” he murmurs, arms going around the prince to pull him up out of the desk chair, “just concerned.”

“I figured that if I got to work they’d be less mad that I wasn’t there,” Roman mumbles, even as he lets Janus pull him back to the bed, “so I…”

“Oh, sweetie, no one’s angry at you.”

Roman looks up at him with such a heartbreaking look of disbelief that he lets out a soft noise, cupping his face.

“Would you believe me if I said they want to apologize and make it up to you?”

“No.”

He squints. “Have you believed anything I’ve told you since you woke up?”

“No.”

The lack of hesitation makes his eyes widen. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against Roman’s as he pulls off his gloves, reaching up to cup the prince’s head.

“I meant every word,” he murmurs, doing his best to wipe away the bits of salt in the corners of his eyes, “every single word.”

He pauses, then leans closer.

“They’re sorry, Roman,” he whispers, “they’re so sorry and they want to know how to make it better.”

They don’t want you. They hate you. They’ve never cared about you. They don’t even want to touch you.

Janus hisses softly as he pulls Roman in for a hug. The poor thing still reacts like it’s the first time someone’s touched him in years.

“They want to see you, sweetie,” he whispers, “and I believe their exact words were ‘can we go hug Roman now?’”

“W-what?”

In response, Janus pulls away a little and nods to the door. Roman’s eyes widen.

“Can we let them in, sweetie?”

“They’re here?”

“Right outside.”

“They want—they want to—“

Roman’s desperate gaze flies to the door. He raises a shaking hand and lets it open.

Patton’s through the door before it’s even all the way open. Roman lets out a wounded noise as Patton barrels into them, his arms wrapped around Roman before Janus can blink.

“Pat—Patton—Pa—wha—?”

“I’m sorry, Roman, I’m so sorry, kiddo—“

Virgil follows not too long after, pulling Roman’s legs into his lap and reaching out to take Roman’s outstretched hand.

“Hey, Princey,” he says, the growl from not five minutes ago softened to a low rumble, “missed you.”

“Mis—miss—missed me?”

“Yeah, Roman, missed you. Didn’t feel the same without you there.”

Then Logan. As Patton and Virgil move to get Roman into a more comfortable position, Logan sits behind him so that when Roman leans back, his head rests against Logan’s shoulder. Logan reaches up to tangle his fingers in Roman’s hair, smiling softly at the low noise from Roman’s throat.

“Bonk?”

Roman nods, still blinking in confusion but lets Logan press his forehead gently to his.

“Thank you, little star,” he murmurs, smiling at the way Roman’s mouth falls open, “I didn’t forget, Roman, even if I haven’t been the best at showing it.”

“We don’t hate you, Princey,” Virgil says, squeezing his hand, “and we—well, we owe you one hell of an apology.”

“But we don’t have to talk about that now.” Patton adjusts his grip around Roman’s waist. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Remus picks this moment to not walk through the door and climb onto the bed but to sink down through the ceiling and land on top of them.

“Re!”

“Hey, Ro-Bro.”

“Re, get off, you—it’s too much.”

Remus rolls to the side, right into Janus’s lap, effectively making sure that none of them are leaving, not that they particularly wanted to.

Janus watches as Roman slowly asks if they can stay like this for a while, smiling when the answer is a resounding ‘yes,’ the cuddle pile closing in around their prince. Roman’s head rests against the crook of Logan’s neck, one of his hands wrapped in Janus’s, the other in Virgil’s. His legs lie in Virgil’s lap, Patton cuddling him protectively as Logan strokes his head. Remus and Janus keep watch, sentries over the resting prince.

For the first time, in a long time, as Roman drifts off to sleep, the only lie in his head is this won’t last forever.

They’ve got time to prove him wrong.

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taki118 · 4 years ago

Text

Go Watch the Venture Brothers

So just heard the complete and utter Bullshit news that Adult Swim has cancelled one of (if not the best shows) they have the Venture Bros. This series is one of those shows that for WHATEVER reason never got to the level of fandom Rick and Morty has even though they’ve been at the genre parody game longer and in my opinion better.

The series is about Rusty Venture former boy adventurer and failing super scientist who in an attempt to keep his head above water in debt goes around with his two boys Hank and Dean, and bodyguard Brock on misadventues while various legal archnemisis go after him, such as the Monarch.

So if you never watched or never heard of this 7 season series let me give you a break down on why you should,

1) Art Style & Animation

Venture bros is one of those rare Adult aimed animated series that that really truly tries to utilize their medium to the best of their abilities. Season 1 had like such a small budget and corners had to be cut so it can be a little hard to watch at times.

But with each passing season they get a little better, a little more fluid, go just a little harder and it truly feels rewarding to watch. Like seeing an artist you follow online improve over the years. Like they COULD have stayed with the choppy and stiff animation from season 1 it fit right in with its fellow adult animated shows but it didn’t. They strove for quality to have something that matched the story they were telling.

2) The Writing

Venture Bros has some of the tightest and consistently great writing of ANY serialized show I’ve seen, adult, animated or other wise. Wanna know why? Cause it’s all done by TWO people (save for like one ep each season where one other person is allowed to touch their baby). Yeah TWO people and they work their asses off every season to interject, humor, refrences, parody, plot and character development in equal measure.

3) Character Development

Um yes in case you were wondering that’s right an adult animated show has CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT that holds as the series goes on. Not to give spoilers but characters will go through changes in alignment, relationships will develop and change, some characters will go through negative arcs where they are straight up unbareable for a season before coming out the other side even better than they were before. There is no end of epsiode or even end of season reset. Characters, settings, and dynamics all change over the course of the show and it feels just so god damn good.

4) Story Development

Just like the characters the story of the Venture Bros grows and changes each season. Things that are set up even as early as season one are paid off as the series goes on. Like not to be that bitch but you know how RIck and Morty teases an overarching plot ALL THE TIME but like will often just spit in the face of fans hoping for more than like one episode a season addressing it? Yeahhhhhhh that doesnt happen here, fans are consistently rewarded for putting the time in to rewatch and really think about what happened in the series. Characters that are seen in the background or are just referenced by other characters will be brought in to be recurring characters, things that start off as a small detail or gag will be given larger relevance and each time they do this you get that “OH I remember that from last season! So thats what it was!” The writers WANT you to rewatch, they WANT you to analyze and they WANT you to theorize, and they give you a show that gives back the time you put in.

5) Parody & Reference

This series does a great thing with parody. They make real characters who are just as enjoyable as the characters they parody, they make story lines that both poke fun at the absurdity of the media but shows the writers love for it. So often parody and references are just used to mock the thing but with Venture Bros you feel the love and care so when you know the thing being parodied you can laugh but feel good about laughing cause they are never laughing at a thing maybe you cared for in your youth but rather laughing with it.

And it’s never just one thing. When they parody a thing its often layered with other things to make it even more unique. Scooby-Doo is overlayed with famous criminals, Laura Croft is mixed Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, GI Joe is given the look of the Village People and so on. They never go for the easy joke or reference. Hell theres an episode that starts with them reciting the lyrics to David Bowies Space Oddity for really no reason other than they could. They weave these things in naturally with their setting and characters so nothing feels out of place. Like if you dont catch a reference or parody you dont feel like “I think this isa reference to something?” like a LOT of things do not just adult animated shows. You arent taken out of the moment cause it all feels so natural.

6) The Characters

God damn these characters, I could go on for hours about these characters. From main to one off these are some of the most likeable characters you can find. I mean it when I say I can’t think of a single character I wish they had cut cause they are all so well created. Even the ones I hate i have fun hating cause they were made to be that way. I’ll be good though I’ll only talk about my absolute top faves.

- The Monarchs

You ever sit and wish villain couples could have functional healthy relationships? Well look no further than Malcom Fitzcarraldo aka The Monarch and Dr. Shelia Girlfriend (yes that is her last name). The Monarch is a high strung impulsive saturday morning cartoon villain whos tendency to over react is only matched by his unspecified hatred of Dr. Venture. And Dr. G is his nonsense partner in crime who will cut a bitch if they don’t play by their admittedly weird rules. Both characters are great on their own but are better together. Though that doesnt mean they always get along. Like a real couple they have their ups and downs they fight, break up, make-up and grow stronger in their relationship with each season.

- Shore Leave

Ok ok so I want you to imagine James Bond, mixed with GI Joe simmering in a cocktail of the most flamboyant gay men you have ever seen and you have one of my favorite gay characters/characters in general. Shore Leave is a member of OSI (the shows SHEILD/GI Joe parody organization) he’s loud, brash, flippant, sassy and highly competent at his job loving every second of getting to beat bad guys down within an inch of their life. I love seeing him play off the stoic Brock and the two have this great brotherly dynamic that’s never called into question. He also gets to have a very cute romance with Al the Alchemist (who is also great). I could talk about this man all day.

- Dr. Rusty Venture

They did such a good job with this man. He’s a self serving, sexist, perverted, whinny, self important asshole and yet you feel pity and genuine sympathy for him and want him to succeed. You can see how Dr. V was given a raw deal by his father who seemed to care more about his adventures than his sons well being and how this molded him into the bitter man he is today, but on the flip side you can see where he chose to use that as a crutch for his worst behaviors and impulses. Seeing him slowly grow and change and be an actual good father to his boys while all the while still be a giant dick is actually really great.

- Dr. Byron Orpheus

Ahhhhh Dr. Orpheus part Dr. Strange Parody part busybody stay at home dad, he’s just such a delight. Dr. Orpheus is a divorcee, with an unfulfilling job of maintaining order to the cosmos (which isnt as hard as one might think), and uses his magical ablities in ways most of us would (ie menial tasks and home chores). Overly dramatic and affectionate Dr. O is a delight whenever he appears, but he’s at his best around his daughter and old friends The Order of the Triad.

Again I can go on but all these characters ranging from main to recurring are crafted with the utmost care for you to want to see them succeed or fail, to see them again even if you know it’ll never happen, and want them to cross paths with other characters.

The Venture Bros is one of those series that I will ALWAYS recommend even to the pickiest of humor tastes. But if you don’t believe its as good as I said or don’t think the concept is to your tastes I’ll recommend a few eps that I think best show off the base idea of the series without giving much away. In terms of plot and spoilers, though somethings wont make a lot of sense.

- S1 ep10 "Tag Sale – You're It!" - Dr. V is having a yard sale so of course all manner of costumed weirdos show up. - S2 ep5 "Twenty Years to Midnight" - basically a fetch quest around the world to save the planet with daddy issues - S3 ep2 "The Doctor Is Sin" - Again daddy issues but with one of the best recurring characters and a great showcase of the series deeper emotional plots - S4 ep6 "Self-Medication" - Really embraces the parody as Rusty goes to a former boy adventurer support group. Anyway the show is 7 seasons with 80 episodes, please go watch it. I will never forgive @adultswim for cancelling what was to be their final season. And in closing GO TEAM VENTURE!

#venture bros #the venture bros #venture brothers #adultswim #adult animated shows #animated shows #animation #go watch this show #go watch #adult animation

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cloud9in · 3 years ago

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You’re the only one who’s writing poppy x mc fics sooo, i have a request “ bea is a bad girl (like in a gang) in high school and also went jail couple of times for getting in trouble in high school senior year poppy was new transfer student and after 2 months bea join back school and met poppy bea and they just click yk like a connection slowly they started dating and in school everyone was shocked to see bea in a relationship ( bad girl and new girl) poppy is always worried about bea and few days before graduation bea got hurt really bad and poppy gives bea 2 options that she has to choose between her or her this (gang).. bea didn’t say anything to her so poppy left, after 2/3 years they met in college bea was a different person but so does poppy they become enemies (no one knows why they hate each other) one day they were arguing and poppy shout at her and says why you're back and bea put her hand on her cheek and smile and say i am here to win you back because i love you 😬

Promises (Poppy x MC)

Part 1/?

Can i just say I'm absolutely invested in this plot? You've got me hooked on my own story, as hectic as my life is, this is enjoyable to write. I hope you like it as well @iamsimpforpoppy

Word count: 1.8k (i got carried away)

“You know what to do Jackson, same old shit.”

“Yeah but it feels like a movie every damn time”, Bea responds confidently as she unbuckles her seatbelt. She sports a black mask with a yellow bandana, a vivacious color worn by only the Southside Spades, a notorious street gang who were known for robbery, and occasional blood.

Bea found herself wrapped up in the world of gangs when she turned sixteen. But before that the brunette would assist in transporting goods, also known as hardcore drugs. There was plenty enough to go around so Bea could indulge in any she wanted. Drugs didn’t give her the high she craved though, instead it was the thrilling game of cat and mouse with the cops.

Every now and then she’d get thrown in the slammer overnight. But this particular evening earns her one year in the NY State Penitentiary. See, the cops never gathered significant evidence to build a case against her, even though she was well aware of Detective Steinhelm who had some sick obsession with her. Following her everywhere, until Bea confronted her directly after noticing the same black sedan parked a street down from her house.

But she played the game right, and nothing ever led back to her. Until now.

“Where’s the money Bradley? I feel like I’ve been kissing your ass all week, the boss needs it now.”

A skinny blonde boy who looks like he had better days grunts in annoyance, “You’ll get your money...I’m just a little short right now.”

“Time’s up Ken doll, you know Carter will have your head for this.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to know. Maybe this can be between us…”, Bradley strides carefully towards the blonde, a disturbing grin on his face which screams junkie. “Back the hell up now.”

Bea pulled her knife out with ease and pointed it towards him. She didn’t plan on actually using it. Murder was way out her budget for a simple money pickup but she knew that it would scare the boy easily. Except he kicked the blade out of her hold which prompted it to screech across the concrete before coming to a stop. Before Bea could think her fists reacted as she intercepted a punch that aimed straight for her jaw. She twists Bradley’s arm and he falls on his knees in pain. With his back to her, she kicks him down until he’s flat on his stomach.

“What is it exactly that you plan on doing now Bradley?” The blonde boy struggles under Bea’s foot but manages to reach around and slash at her ankle with a surprise shiv. Bea yelps in pain before kicking his head, rendering him unconscious.

“Stupid idiot. Had to make this harder than it should’ve been.”

Bea eventually finds the stash of money hidden under his mattress, an amateur hiding place at best. She congratulated herself for another job accomplished (kinda) and headed home. What the seventeen year old didn’t expect was the repulsive sound of a siren filling her ears as she stepped out onto her driveway. Her blood rushed to her head when she spotted Detective Steinhelm among the police officers surrounding her and retorts, “oh come on. I thought I told them about you harassing me. What do you want? Back here to strip search me again?”

The older woman only watches the blonde in eerie silence before smiling and gesturing to a police officer. “Beatriz Jackson you have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law-”

“What the actual fuck!” Bea yanks her arms out of the officers reach which initiates a struggle for dominance. This was nothing new to her, but it still felt sickening. Like she was some pet.

“You have the right to have a lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire.” Detective Steinhelm finishes speaking and approaches the still scuffling blonde, “if you keep resisting I will tase you myself.”

Bea bites back the urge to headbutt the old hag right in her stupid face but she didn’t need any extra charges, for whatever the hell it was she was being charged for.

“Tell me why the fuck I am being arrested and I’ll calm down.”

That’s when Bea notices a familiar (bruised up) face from earlier. His smirk was enough to eat at her skin and she felt burning hot rage.

“Your blood was found at the scene of Mr. Denbroughs assault. You are being arrested in the case of second degree assault with intent to hurt someone with a deadly weapon.”

***

Bea only got one year in prison due to her kickass lawyer Ina Kingsley who played the minor card at every opportunity given. She also pointed out the fact that the knife wasn’t bloodstained, and Bradley never had any stab wounds so there is no proof the weapon was ever used against him. And it technically wasn’t. Good thing she didn’t bring a gun instead.

She did miss her 18th birthday though. And a few months of her senior year. But that’s what summer classes were for right?

All eyes were on the blonde when she returned, and whispers spread throughout the school about a certain new girl. Bea paid no mind to the fingers that pointed in her direction but the newcomer did manage to catch her attention, and pretty quick at that.

“Hey Jackson, how was solitary confinement?”

“I heard they make you use the bathroom right through the tiny food slot.”

Bea rolls her eyes and pelts a piece of not-so-fresh bread right at Ford’s head. The other people at the table join in on the laughter and Bea shakes her head and smiles, “it was Juvie you dumbass, and they made us sit in a circle together every Thursday like we were in an AA meeting.

“That’s jail for babies, goldilocks here wouldn’t last a minute in a real prison”, Carter joins them at the table with a cocky smirk, yet his eyes soften when landing on Bea. She shares a similar look with him knowing they’ll have a real conversation later. Because they definitely didn’t get to have that when Bea was getting dragged away to the police station in cuffs, and every event after that.

“It’s our girl’s first day out, we have to celebrate. And it’s not like she’s on probation...right Bea?”

“I do have a curfew, and I’m on juvenile probation so…when we partying?” The crew laughs as Bea shrugs. Her mother will deal with it. Zoey scoots in next to the blonde and wraps her arm around her shoulder in a side hug. “So glad to have you back Bea, and we are not risking you breaking parole so let’s just go to a sport’s bar tonight.”

Bea nods her head in agreement as the first warning bell goes off and everyone starts to clean up. Zoey taps on her arm and points towards one of the farther tables where a lone figure sits, wiping her hands with a napkin. All Bea saw were blonde tresses until she turned and they made brief eye contact.

“She’s the new girl, Poppy Min Sinclair. Rumor is she’s got a rich white daddy. You should totally invite her to the party.”

“And why would I do that?”

Zoey squints her eyes and leans in closer, her hands under chin in thought, “she seems like the broody type, you two would click.” She laughs at Bea’s comical expression but the blonde can’t bother to look in her direction, she’s way too wrapped up in what little the stranger a few tables away had to offer. She would sit on that thought, Bea was not one to shy away from anything.

***

The two became friends quicker than anyone could think.

One day after school, Poppy’s car wouldn’t start. It just didn’t comply. You would think she’d be poised and call her mechanic to come fix it, but instead the blonde slumped against the driver’s side window and let out a visibly frustrated, high-pitched yelp. Bea watched her pace around the car and even...kick?...the front bumper with her heels in efforts to wake it up.

“You know I may be wrong but I think that only makes it worse..” She approaches the helpless blonde with a small grin. Poppy’s persistence amazed her though, she’s never seen anyone determined to beat a car up. An expensive one at that.

“I hope you have some idea how to fix it, unless you’re here to waste my time and ask me on a date.”

Woah.

Okay that definitely threw Bea on a whim. She lets out a sharp laugh and bites her lips in amusement. She strolls towards the front of her car, holding Poppy’s gaze the whole way. She liked that the blonde didn’t avert her eyes. “And if I did? We couldn’t take your car of course, it’s obviously impaired.”

Poppy smiles and turns to look at Bea properly. She checks out every inch of her with no visible shame. An assessment so to say, and she likes what she sees.

“It’s your lucky day Poppy, I happen to know a thing or three about cars, and I desperately want to get this thing working so we can go on that date.” She winks playfully but god does she mean it. Bea silently prayed that the blonde wouldn’t take it the wrong way, but she knew she won when Poppy didn't protest, instead getting comfortable under some shade and holding her hand out, “the stage is all yours Jackson.”

***

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that I can’t jump over this obvious not-so-protected fence?”

“Judging by the sign right next to it that says...oh wow who would’ve thought, “DO NOT ENTER”, I don’t think so”, Poppy deadpans. It didn’t phase Bea of course because she was already halfway up the fence when the blonde turned away from the sign. The girl had a point to prove, maybe not a valid one, but still a point.

Poppy pinches her eyebrows in exasperation before looking back up to a nonchalant Bea swinging her legs from the top of the fence. She winks down at the blonde, “join me?”

Poppy didn’t expect to be climbing fences with a charismatic girl who had the same color hair as her when she moved schools, but she found herself embracing every moment of it. Although the trip up there was a struggle and some.

“I swear to god there’s a wire in my ass.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And we’re both going to end up in the hospital. Get. me. Down.”

Bea tries to hold in her laughter the whole way down but lets it loose when she sees Poppy still up there, partly hovering in the air. “Pops...I’ll catch you, don't worry. Climb down slowly.” She doesn’t. But Bea had her feet planted and ready because any moment with the sassy blonde was unpredictable. And she loved it. Especially because she had Poppy engulfed in her arms and they were so close their noses touched.

Bea promised herself she’d kiss the girl next time.

***

“You’re...in a gang?”

Bea felt a clasp of cold air enter her lungs as she stared ahead. It wasn’t like she could hide it from Poppy. She has a reputation, and word has gotten around about the two getting close. This was just like that one time at the end of sophomore year where Bea met Kelly Hall, a beautiful girl with golden rimmed glasses. Unfortunately she only could imagine what could’ve been after whispers ended up right on the doorstep of Kelly’s parents, and she suddenly changed her number, and switched out of every class she had with Bea.

The blonde didn’t want to entertain the thought of Poppy doing the same, but this was a lifestyle she chose.

“I mean...how?”

Bea sighs and turns to look at her, “I fell into the wrong crowd. Or maybe it’s the right one because I never found a true home until I met them. They’re family, I wouldn’t expect you to get it though and I understand if you want to distance-”

“I of all people know what it’s like to not fit in Jackson. You’ve found people who make you feel safe. Maybe I don’t agree with the troubles that come with being in a gang but I don’t know the whole story.”

“Do you want to?”

Poppy wraps her arms around Bea’s and lays her head on her shoulder, “I want to know that you won’t get yourself hurt but I know that’s nearly impossible.”

Bea exhales slowly, not knowing what to say. She knew that this would upset Poppy but her acceptance meant more. She didn’t know what this would mean for the two of them, if there was a “them”, but she felt more encouraged to share more of her other life with the blonde.

“Just promise me one thing Jackson.”

“Yeah?”

Poppy’s voice comes out softer than expected, and Bea ingests every emotion that comes with it, “Promise me you won’t ever put yourself in a position where you have to choose between me or the gang.”

Bea finds her hand in the space where their thighs touched and latches onto it like a lifebuoy,

“I promise.”

***

“I just remembered something Poppy.”

“What, that you have half a brain cell? I thought that was established Jackson.”

Bea launches a pillow that (purposely) misses Poppy’s head by an inch. If she actually hit her and frizzed up her locks then she’d never hear, or see..or walk again.

“I’m being serious. I just remembered this too, we never went on that car date we talked about.”

Poppy squints her eyes in confusion, but was fully aware of what Bea was referring to. “You mean the first time we met?”

The blonde smiles to herself as she replayed that day in her head over and over again. She couldn’t decide if Bea’s openly flirty behavior is what drew her in or if it was her ability to fix any of her possessions with ease. And for free.

Bea pulls Poppy up by her hands until her back is against the lockers. Another perfect opportunity for the blonde to make do of that promise she made to herself, but something told her to wait just a bit longer. “So what do you say? Poppy Min Sinclair, will you go on a date with me?”

Poppy rolls her eyes playfully, pulling Bea in closer by the collar of her letterman, “now who’s being dramatic?”

“I didn’t hear a no”

“I think you know what the answer is.”

That night Zoey helped Bea prep for her first date with the girl that she could say she was almost in love with. The taller girl brushed some dust off of Bea’s jacket and planted her hands on her shoulders, “remember Jackson, give her the ride of her life. And I mean that in every way possible.”

Thanks Zoe.

Bea watched Poppy drive up in front of her house and something inside her mind couldn’t deny the pang her heart let out when she saw Poppy smile the way she did.

Bea took control of the driving and told Poppy to recline her seat and enjoy the ride, with her seatbelt on of course. Safe sacrifices. They cruised through an empty highway blasting Poppy’s spotify playlist named “Rich Bitch Songs” because that was their ideal perfect date. It’s amazing that the two could even come to an agreement, but here we are.

She watched the beautiful blonde sing her lungs out and couldn’t help but mirror her joy, taking her hands off the steering wheel. The pump of adrenaline prompts a new excitement in the air and Poppy wraps Bea into a secure hug, her hair flying wildly with the wind. Bea slows the car down but the rapid beating of her heart made it seem they were going 100 miles per second.

“I feel so alive Jackson.”

Bea stared at the girl in the passenger seat with a look that could only be described as love.

“You make me feel alive.”

Poppy kept talking and Bea found a way to focus on both the road and the blonde next to her. Because when you truly enjoy something, you’ll find a way to keep experiencing it. And Bea enjoyed hearing Poppy’s voice, she loved everything about her.

“I feel like kissing you.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“...Nothing. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

They kiss when Bea pulls over. A hot feeling consumes them like fire when their tongues collide and Bea plants her hands around Poppy’s hips, pushing her back into her seat until she’s on top. The windows easily start to fog up in reaction to the heat, and not once did they take their hands off each other.

Promise 1/2 kept

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

End Note: This chapter was to build their relationship, more angst incoming. BIG THANKS to @somewillwin for letting me use Jackson <3333

Taglist: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @poppysmc @doey-eyes8 @veenast @straightlikewetspaghetti @phoennixxsblog @a-ghost-girl

#poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #mc x poppy #a huge bug flew onto my screen during the writing process #gave me motivation to HURRY MY AAAAAAASSS UP

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thisdreamplace · 4 years ago

Text

30 Days of Manifesting the Mental State (Part 1)

Guidelines:

- Focus on manifesting the mental state of who I desire to be

- Let the external world be, the internal world has all my focus

Why?

I was inspired by this short post:

Decide to Manifest the Mental State

My goal with this was to manifest my ideal mental state in regards to whatever I deem important to me, so this was a heavily self concept based challenge. Compared to the challenges I did in the past, where I was interested in physical manifestations.

Reflection:

Y’all, if you feel like you’ve done all you can do and you’re stuck, try this challenge. lmao You will be fucking read to filth. And it’s the best thing ever.

During the first week, I really got shown myself. Before this challenge I thought I was good with not taking the 3D too seriously. By implementing this challenge, I realized how much I actually paid attention to it for validation. Given this challenge is all about manifesting the mindset, I could no longer use the 3D an excuse for why I’m upset or wonder why I see no changes. Because I only had one job and that’s to manifest the mindset, no matter what the 3D shows. I often would remind myself, “I need to conform to myself first.” This helped me to stay on track during the first week.

Plus, I realized, once again I was slacking on everyone is you pushed out as a concept. It really was difficult for me to take responsibility for others. But thanks to this challenge, I couldn’t put this concept on the backburner anymore. And I know if I want the people in my world to change for the better, I must change for the better within first. Once again, “I need to conform to myself first” was such a solid reminder. How could I look at the 3D in disappointment, when I hadn’t even conformed to myself first? This is still a work in progress, but it’s at the forefront of my mind now instead of an afterthought.

After about the first week, things got easier. I read a couple posts that really clicked for me and it honestly became chill af after that. Things started moving more in my life. It’s honestly so weird how the law works. This shit really is subtle as hell, it’s so natural when your world starts conforming you barely even notice. There’s so many things that happen in a day that align with my new conception of self and it’s difficult to remember them all.

But basically, I moved into an entirely new state. Like, things just are not the same for me mentally or with the way I feel. Like... how do I explain this? Basically, my desired self concept has become so natural... a lot of my state of lack habits have disappeared. And I didn’t even expect that to happen. Like, getting worked up about how long it’s been... wondering if I did something wrong... like all of that just vanished. I feel extremely... fulfilled and satisfied. I actually know I did everything I could do. So what else is there to do? I don’t feel the need to search for more anymore. I truly feel satisfied with my mental efforts. I have done my best, now all that is left to be done is to live and allow life to do it’s thing, really.

On the final week, I hit a wall. It was like I simply could not shake the anxiety. Each day I was thankful it came to an end, hoping for a more pleasant following day... that didn’t come. The emotional rollercoaster! I would go from “it’s okay, I don’t need to analyze how I’m feeling” to “okay, wtf is going on????” I was a mess, but as always, I persisted. I know there’s mixed opinions on this, but from my experience I definitely have moments where my mind is purging the old story. And it’s difficult as fuck. I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t exist because someone out there might be going through the same. I want y’all to know, we can make it through to the other side.

During those days, I had these moments where I can actually feel myself as God? And it’s not this super powerful feeling. It’s been more... calm and peaceful. Like I just know I am taken care of. Honestly, it usually only lasts in glimpses. But that’s okay. Because I know I am just uncovering that part of me more and more. It’s actually so exciting.

From experience, I know every dip like this on my journey has lead to more mental and emotional freedom. So even though in the moment it feels like absolute meaningless torture, I know it makes sense and it’s happening for a good reason.

But this is where I left off. The challenge ended before I was able to make it through the low moment. So now, I am just going to revamp this challenge with a part 2, with everything I have learned about myself from it.

Best Self Concept Manifestations:

- I have felt more fulfilled than I ever have in my life. And I did that on my own. Pretty fucking great.

- The main theme on my journey has continued to improve: love. People LOVE me. Like they LOVE me lmao. I constantly get compliments on not only my appearance but also my character and who I am as a person. My ideal life is entirely in view, I can see the destination now.

- Not needing to constantly read about the law anymore. This is my favorite, because I love the law. lol So, when I deleted Reddit and actually had weeks pass where I didn’t feel the need to redownload it, it was like wow. I know everything I need to know. There’s nothing else to read. I have my comfort/motivation posts, and I would go back to those time to time. But I have very little interest in the search for “new” information now. There’s nothing else to learn, there’s only concepts to apply.

- Despite the downward spiral, I can say I have definitely seen improvement in my bounce back from the 3D circumstances overall. I have my moments, of course, but overall it’s definitely become easier for me to remember this world is malleable and nothing is set in stone.

- Kdramas. LOL I always end up watching one that aligns with my journey, which is cool af. I started “When the Camellia Blooms” while on this challenge and it was funny because my sister watched in months ago. And she was like, “Dongbaek (the female lead) is the character I said you remind me of.” Which was such a huge compliment. She’s literally what I strive to be? Loved for no reason other than existing and super pretty. LMAO She’s simply adored and unforgettable, simply because she is. That was such a boost to my work on my self concept. It may not sound like the best manifestation ever but for me it was motivation to keep persisting. If I can see it, I can have it. Period.

Conclusion:

This isn’t over yet. I am moving into part 2 of this challenge as we speak, which will be similar but with a more precise focus. So in conclusion, all I can say is try it for yourself. It’s definitely worth it.

Resources That Inspired Me the Most During this Challenge:

Nothing Outside Will Help You Change Your Mind

Dissolving Fears to Manifest Effortlessly

Self Concept, Self Love, and States

Hug Your Inner World Tight

#journey

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years ago

Text

Speedy one night stand part 2

Part 1 here

“Ok, so do we go over our story again?”

“We did that a thousand times. Relax, they’re not the brightest.”

Aelin smiled, resting her back against the hospital chair. Even though only one day had passed, Rowan was already feeling infinitely better. His wrist still hurt like a bitch, and it would probably remain like that due to the surgery, but the rest was just some small ache.

Differently from the previous day, this morning Rowan had woken up to an empty room. Aelin had decided to go home around eleven, promising to be back in time for them to go over their plan one more time, but a part of Rowan wondered if she was actually going to be back. It wasn’t a usual situation, and now that she knew he was not dying, maybe she wouldn’t feel any responsibility over him at all.

It had worried Rowan more than he liked to admit.

And yet, she had returned today. Just a few hours after Rowan woke up, Aelin walked into his hospital room. She was her bubbly self, walking through the door while oozing so much excitement and brightness that it was like the sun lodged itself in the room. She plopped down on her usual chair, barely bothering to create small talk before jumping right back to what they had discussed the previous night. Aelin wanted everything to go perfect— had said that she had grown up with a cousin who made her quite competitive when it came to pranks.

Forty five minutes later, they had gone over the details twice, flirted shamelessly every now and then, and Rowan had the pleasure of seeing Aelin play the distressed wife in front of three different doctors.

The woman was a devil.

Rowan couldn’t help but smile.

“When do they get here?”

“You’re so impatient.” Rowan grinned, slowly turning his non-shattered wrist. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re impatient?”

“You and my cousin would be such great friends.” Aelin gave him a sweet smile.

“Sounds like a nice guy, then.”

“He isn’t.” Aelin’s sweet— and oh so fake— smile widened. “A fucking asshole, if you ask me.”

Rowan snorted, looking at the door just in time to see five guys turning around the corner and walking in the direction of the room. A diabolical smile grew on Rowan’s lips, and he turned to Aelin who had a raised brow. “Show time.”

Just like the devil Rowan thought she was, Aelin returned his smile.

———————

Honestly, she shouldn’t be this excited.

Tricking a bunch of men she had never seen in her life should not be that high in her list of priorities. And yet.

Part of her wanted to stay at the hospital yesterday, make sure that Rowan was ok during the night. Even though they had just met, Aelin felt a weird connection to him. Not love— because love at first sight is bullshit—, but she definitely cared for him as a friend. But the doctor insisted that there were no chances that Rowan’s condition would get that bad over night, and so Aelin went home.

She could barely sleep, and in the morning she rushed to get to the hospital.

Because of the prank, of course. Not because of Rowan.

And now that his friends were actually there, that the plan was actually in action, Aelin was having some small doubts.

What if they tell the hospital she’s lying? What if that doctor loses her job? What if—

“Rowan!” A blonde haired man ran through the door, followed by four others. Just like Rowan, all of the men were massive. Tall, muscular, and almost sucking all the air in the room with their presence.

They were all so focused on Rowan that none of them even paid attention to her sitting by a corner in the room, and Aelin used that time to transform the smirk on her lips into a loving smile.

“Fucking shit, Whitethorn.” The tallest of them— the only one as tall as Rowan— said. His pitch black hair was tied back in a bun, but some of it fell out of it when he ran a hand through his head. Aelin tried to remember Rowan’s descriptions of his friends, and if she was right, that was Lorcan. “One day alone and you get hit by a fucking truck.”

“Any cool scars?” One of the golden twins asked, a grin on his face. Either Fenrys or Connall, but judging by the personality and Rowan’s description of the twins, Aelin was betting on the former.

“Shut up.” The one with a buzzcut— Vaughan, she recalled— said, hitting the back of the golden twin’s head. “We tried to come as soon as possible when we heard. We didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh.” Rowan said with all the innocence in the world, a smile as sweet as hers gracing his lips. “Of course I wasn’t alone, are you guys insane or something?”

“Huh?” The twins said in unison, looking at each other.

“I came with my wife.” Rowan said, the sentence sounding like a question. He let out a laugh, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Do you guys think she would just leave me alone?”

“Your fucking what.” Lorcan said very slowly after a few moments of complete silence.

Rowan looked so genuinely confused that even Aelin believed him for a second.

“Guys? Ace?” Rowan said, brows furrowing. His eyes then landed on her, and he gave her a smile that was supposed to be loving, but Aelin just thought he looked like a fiend. “Apparently they think you’re cold enough to enjoy your vacations while your husband is at the hospital.”

“I might not be the warmest, but that would have been low even for me.” Aelin said, voice charred with playful sarcasm. As if she was a magnet, all five heads immediately whipped at her direction, faces showing different levels of incredulity. “Hey, guys.”

Aelin had to bite her cheeks to keep herself from laughing. She didn’t know any human being could be that shocked and stand that still. The silence in the room was suffocating, except for Rowan who was smiling broadly now that no one was looking at him.

“Everyone is seeing the hot blonde, right?” The twin— Fenrys, she’d been right. It was just the type of comment he’d do— asked very carefully.

“I’m flattered, Fen.” Aelin said, taking some pleasure in how his jaw dropped when she said his name. She looked at each of their faces, forcing her expression to show both excitement and some confusion. “Guys? Not even a hug? I mean I know you guys are Rowan’s friends but I would expect some better welcome.”

At that, Aelin got up and walked in their direction. She hugged Vaughan and Fenrys at the same time, both as still as two pieces of stone.

She took a step back, doing the same to Gavriel and Connall. Aelin then looked at Lorcan, winking at him. “I know better than to hug you. Good to know that the change in continents doesn’t change the scowl on your face.”

They all just stared at her.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan was near busting out laughing. She walked to his side, feeling the eyes of his friends following her across the room. She bent down near Rowan, kissing him on the lips before stroking his cheek with a thumb. For a split second, they shared a knowing smile, one that would look very loving to whoever was watching, but both of them knew better.

“I’m gonna go check with your doctor what time we can leave, alright? I’m gonna let you guys catch up.” Aelin said, kissing him again.

Rowan nodded, but then his eyes turned to his friends and narrowed slightly. “Sounds good, honey.”

Vaughan soundly choked.

Aelin made her best impression of being embarrassed— not by the nickname, but by the reactions of his friends.

She left the room with a final smile at the five guys, and when her face was not visible to them anymore, she finally opened the biggest grin she had ever given in her entire life.

As she walked down the hallway looking for the doctor, Rowan almost jumped out of bed just to kiss her again if only for the absolute horror in his friends’ faces. He never thought he’d seen any of them that shaken— even Lorcan was shocked.

Using the fact that all five of them were still looking at Aelin’s body disappearing among doctors, nurses, and other visitors, Rowan controlled his facial expressions and turned them to a disappointed scowl.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked when Aelin completely disappeared. “Would it kill for you guys to be nice to her? It was never an issue, what the fuck happened?”

“Bro.” Connall was the first to tear his eyes away from the door.

“Rowan, I don’t know how to say this gently…” Gavriel started, voice calm and cautious as always.

“You must have hit your head really hard because you’re not fucking married.” Lorcan, on the other hand, had no problem just saying what came to his mind.

“What?” Rowan asked, dumbfounded.

“Man, some hot crazy chick is pretending to be your wife.” Fenrys was smiling, but his whole expression screamed terrified. “Holy fuck, some hot crazy chick is pretending to be Rowan’s wife.”

“Haha, very funny.” Rowan said, relaxing. “Is this why you treated Ace like that? A prank?”

“Her name is Ace.” Vaughan said, the only one still visibly shocked.

“Crazy girl name.” Fenrys added solemnly. Connall nodded profusely.

“Her name is Aelin, and you guys know that. We have been together for over a year not, married for a few months.” Rowan was trying so, so hard not to laugh.

The guys looked at each other, different degrees of worry washing they expressions.

“Rowan, you really have to understand that—“

“Understand what?” Aelin interrupted what Gavriel was saying, causing all of the guys to jump and scream.

At that, Rowan couldn’t contain his laughter. He was laughing so hysterically that not even Aelin managed to keep a straight face and started chuckling too.

“What the fuck was that?” Rowan said between laughs, smiling up at Aelin as she approached his bed even though he was speaking to his friend.

“When is his birthday?” Fenrys ignored Rowan’s question, eyes narrowing at Aelin as she rested against Rowan.

“January twentieth-first.” Aelin said, brows furrowing in confusion. “What the hell is this?”

“Favorite color.” Connall dismissed her question.

“Green.”

“His pet’s name.” Gavriel asked much more politely than the others, but suspicion was palpable in his words.

“We don’t have a pet.”

“What is he studying?” Vaughan finally looked more wary than fucking shocked.

“He’s studying to become an engineer. STEM, then? I don’t know, I’m an arts and humanities major. I don’t understand that shit.”

The guys looked at each other again before Lorcan’s eyes dropped on Aelin. “Mom’s name. Ex girlfriend’s name. Favorite movie. Favorite song. Dick size.”

Rowan choked when he heard the last sentence, but Aelin simply smiled. “Anya. Are you talking about Lyria or Remelle? The Godfather and Patience by the Guns n’ Roses. I will not be discussing my husband’s dick size with his best friend.”

“Holy fuck.” Vaughan breathed.

“Give me your phone.” Lorcan said, even more suspicious now.

Aelin raised a brow, but took the phone out of her pocket. She stole a glance at Rowan, but he was just as confused as her.

“Call the first person in your favorites.”

Oh, fuck.

It had been fun while it lasted, and Rowan was about to get his ass beaten by his friends even though he was still in a hospital bed.

But Aelin simply unlocked her phone for everyone to see, went to her contacts and called the second person in her favorites. She raised her eyes from the phone to smile sweetly at Lorcan. “Rowan is the first.”

Lorcan’s jaw clenched minimally, as if Aelin had just passed a test she was supposed to fail. Now, just like the rest of his friends, Lorcan looked expectantly ate the phone on top of Rowan’s legs. Aelin had put it on speaker, and the only sound in the room was their breathing and the dialing sound.

“Hey, babe.” A female voice answered, soft and warm. “What can I help you with?”

“I don’t know, actually.” Aelin raised her face to Lorcan, and she looked so beautiful that the smile that grew on Rowan’s face was genuine. “Why did I call her?”

“Is she married?” Lorcan asked loudly so the girl on the phone would hear.

“What did he say?” She asked anyways.

“Lorcan asked if I am married.” Aelin raised the phone to her lips so her friend could hear her better.

“Uhm, yeah?” Her friend laughed. “Aren’t you married to his best friend for a few months now? What type of question is this?”

Aelin smiled smugly at his friends, and Rowan made his best impression of pissed off husband. In reality, all he wanted was to be alone with Aelin and kiss her for her geniality.

She wasn’t kidding when she said she was competitive when it came to pranks.

“Hey, what’s up, Lys. Is that Ace?” A man sounded through the phone.

“Yeah.” Lys answered.

“Is Rowan ok?” The man asked casually, and even Rowan was surprised by that.

Turns out Aelin had been a few steps ahead of him.

“I’m fine.” Rowan answered, trying to sound casual. “But apparently my friends decided to be assholes even though I’m already suffering.”

Aelin snorted, resting her back against his chest.

“What are they doing?” The guy asked and Rowan could hear the smile on his voice. Even though the voice tone was completely different, the man sounded so much like Aelin that it could only be her cousin since she didn’t have siblings.

“Pretending they don’t know Ace.”

“I would also pretend I don’t know my cousin if I could. Disgraceful woman.” He grumbled. “She must be loving the attention, though.”

“Fuck off.” Aelin snapped at the same time Rowan laughed. She turned her head to him, eyes narrowing with enough emotion that Rowan knew she was being genuine. He just smiled, giving her a quick kiss before turning to the phone again.

“Me and Lys gotta go, but we’ll see you this weekend for dinner, right?”

“Yep.” Rowan knew nothing of it, but now he was knee deep into his lie so backing out wasn’t an option anymore.

“Oh, and Ace, Lysandra says the airline just sent your ticket back to Terrasen to the apartment.” Aedion announced before hanging up, leaving the comment hanging in the air.

Aelin heard sharp intakes of breath, and raised her head to see all men staring at her dumbfounded.

“What?” She asked innocently, resting once again against Rowan. His hand sneaked up to the back of her head, massaging her scalp. Even though she tried to play it cool, her heart was hammering inside her chest— both because of how big the lie had just become and because of Rowan’s touch against her skin. Her whole back was against his side, and Aelin hoped he thought the racing heart was due to the lie, not due to him.

“Very well, Ace.” Lorcan said after a moment of prolonged silence. “We are so sorry for the prank. Why don’t we all go out to dinner to pay you back.”

Aelin was gonna vomit her heart. All the guys looked at Lorcan, and even Rowan’s hand stilled against her hair.

And yet she just forced a smile on her face, nodding her head. “Sounds amazing.”

Rowan’s hand in the back of her head massaged now her neck, reassuring her everything was ok.

But that definitely wasn’t the sentiment on his friends’ faces.

Oh, fuck.

A/N: I’m sorry for such a small update for this story, but I’m trying to write some Valentine’s day oneshots but I wanted to continue this one a little! I’ll probably to a final part three for it sometime!

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @firestartsandseneschals @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004 @fromthelibraryofemilyj @rowaelinismyotp @fromthelibraryofemilyj

* tags in bold don’t allow me to tag

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sevlgi · 4 years ago

Text

aphrodisiac

requested: no

group: twice

pairing: mina x fem!reader

genre: fluff, extremely mild and short angst

contents: witch!mina, love potions, college!au

warnings: none

synopsis: You’re broke and desperate, so you don’t think twice before taking a love potion that’ll make you fall in love with a mysteriously perfect girl. But maybe you should.

a/n: hehe i like the idea of this!! i’m just not sure how well i executed it 🤔 happy valentines day, my loves ❤

word count: 6.0k

While everyone knew that working the 9-12 weekday shift at the campus bookstore was the worst job you could possibly get, you didn’t feel quite as exhilarated to have been laid off as you should have.

As the one who had suffered at the hand of old Mrs. Lee for almost the entire duration of your time on campus, you knew the torture better than most. So it was an understatement to say that you were exhilarated to be free of ironing book pages out and restocking the shelves at Mrs. Lee’s whims, that you were practically beaming when you got the email.

But on the other hand, it wasn’t like you had much money to spare, or like you had the ability to find another job in the crowded university. When you felt your wallet in your back pocket, completely empty save for a couple crinkled receipts, the grin faded from your face; after all, it would be even harder to survive without the aid of your measly salary.

So as you pinched together a couple quarters to buy yourself a consolatory iced chocolate, you found that being let go from the shittiest job in the world didn’t feel as triumphant as you had expected. Not when you were, once again, scouring the papers stabled to the lightposts around the campus for anything that offered a quick paycheck.

Well, almost anything.

“I will not.”

“Why?” Lisa was close to whining, though the pout that she directed fully at you did her no favors. “You said you needed to get paid.”

You sighed, “I said i needed to get paid, not launched in the air like a damn cannonball.”

Lisa scowled and tapped her fingers on her face, her hands still cupping her chin as she attempted to convince you. “Come on, the dance team’s willing to pay. It costs less to pay you than to get a dummy, so--”

“That’s not helping to convince me,” you warned. As desperate as you were, and as much as you liked Lisa and her fellow dancers, you definitely didn’t trust them not to launch you in the air and break your neck. “Are you sure that you don’t know about any other job offers? Anything that won’t murder me?”

She considered it, chewing on her bottom lip. You could feel other students eyeing where you sat, one of the only seats in the incredibly tiny boba shop, but you refused to budge until Lisa gave you an answer. “Oh! There is one I can think of, actually. You know the bio lab?”

“Yeah.” You watched her suspiciously, arms crossed. “I’ve been there a couple times. Why?”

“Well, it isn’t a normal bio lab,” Lisa mumbled, leaning in as if what she was about to tell you was the greatest secret in the world. “A lot of them are witches, you know.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t believe in witches, or the supernatural-- both had been proven to be true eons ago, and almost half of the students attending your university weren’t completely human. But you were still a little skeptical that the pretty and equally brilliant girls who ran the campus’s bio lab were... “Witches? Are you sure?”

“Why would I be lying?” Lisa rolled her eyes. “I’m friends with a couple of them, and I know that they’re doing an... experiment of sorts, and they need--”

“Lab rats,” you finished for the dancer. In all rationality, being a lab rat for a couple of young witches with access to a high-tech lab was probably worse than getting launched up in the air by a dance team, but when Lisa slid a flyer over and your eyes widened at the offered money, you instantly stood. “Take me.”

Lisa pouted but stood anyway, taking the flyer back to squint at the tiny scribbled building number. “I can’t believe you trust Mina more than you trust me.”

“Mina? Is that the name of the ‘witch’ I’m selling myself to?” you asked, slightly sarcastic but also slightly curious. At the dancer’s nod, you exhaled lightly and shoved your seat in just to watch the next people scramble for it, and hummed on your way out, “Then let’s meet this Mina.”

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that your entire school was close to dilapidated, but something about the bio lab was almost creepy as you approached it. Lisa had long since set off for the dance room (something about Seulgi breaking Ten’s ankle, she claimed), so you hesitated in front of the cloudy glass door alone. But the thought of the $600 dollars scrawled onto the flyer scrunched in your fist prompted you to push the doors open and step into the lab.

There was already a decent amount of people buzzing around inside; you recognized quite a few of them and nearly laughed at the amount of students willing to possibly be poisoned. But you took the nearest empty seat as someone appeared at the front of the room.

“Wow, this is a great turnout.”

The crowd chuckled lightly, and your eyes nearly bugged out at the sight of the girl standing at the front with papers in her hands. Honestly, she was the kind of girl that you imagined people wrote love songs about-- absolutely perfect without having to really do anything, elegant and soft in a way that still stood out. She smiled slightly and waved, eyes darting around the room. “Hi. I’m Mina, I’m part of the coven that sent out the flyers.”

You joined in the chorus of greetings, but your eyes stayed fixed on Mina at the front of the room. You could see several other girls lurking around in the shadows, probably the other members, though they kept beckoning Mina to speak on her own. “Um, I’ll just... explain the project to you,” she chuckled nervously, darting over to the computer.

Once a slide was displayed on the wall, she rushed back to the front and explained, “Being a potions-focused coven and also biology majors, we wanted to conduct an experiment. A love potion, or an aphrodisiac in scientific terms.”

Murmurs arose around you, and even your eyebrows scrunched together; as far as you knew, aphrodisiacs weren’t real, and if they were, they were probably illegal. In response, Mina raised her hands and her voice slightly to call out, “Hey, hey. It’s an experiment. We were originally planning to accept all of you, but... I think it’ll be hard to conduct an experiment with 50 people, so please fill out the form we pass out.”

And like that, Mina joined the rest of her friends in passing out the clipboards. You didn’t watch them, only scanned the lab for any signs that you were about to die, so when you were tapped on the shoulder, you almost fell off your stool. It was Mina herself, a slight pink tinting her pale skin as she held out one of the forms to you. “Uh. Thanks.” You accepted it with a bow of your head, staring down at the paper. It looked legitimate, with areas for your age, your height--

“What’s your name?”

In your haste to read over the paper, you hadn’t noticed that Mina hadn’t left. When you looked back up, you could feel heat burning at the tops of your ears, and you answered, “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N, though you’ll read it on my application.”

“Oh. Of course. Thanks for coming, Y/N,” Mina mumbled, bowing before moving on to someone else. You noted that she didn’t ask for the name of anyone else, but you passed it off and turned back to the form. Since when did becoming a coven’s lab rat require your blood type, anyway?

After nearly a week, you had almost given up on being accepted into the experiment. But just 5 days after turning your form in, you got the text.

Unknown number [4:57] Is this Y/N Y/L/N? My name is Mina, we met at the bio lab last week. I’m texting to tell you that you got accepted into the program; we’re meeting at the lab again at 9:00 tonight to discuss the experiment further.

You [5:00] yeah, it’s me. i’ll be there.

It wasn’t like what you wore to the meeting mattered; all you were doing was being briefed on exactly what was about to happen to you. But all through your classes of the day, through your futile studying, you couldn’t keep your mind off the experiment that you had somehow been accepted into, and whether it was a good idea to go at all.

Suffice to say, you went.

“Y/N?” the girl at the entrance of the lab asked. You recognized her from the week before-- dark hair, bunny-toothed smile. “You are Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you answered, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” she smiled. “We’re just taking roll, making sure everyone’s here. Take a seat inside, if you will.”

You obliged, nodding awkwardly before brushing past her. To your relief, the lab was nowhere as packed as it had been the week before, 7 people including yourself seated on the stools as the girls fiddled with test tubes in the back. One pair of eyes in particular lingered on you, before Mina was pulled back to talk, but your cheeks warmed nonetheless.

“Okay, everyone!” someone else announced, clapping her hands together. “My name’s Jihyo, I’m the head of the coven. This is Nayeon” -- the bunny-toothed girl from earlier waved-- “and Mina. We’ll be explaining the experiment to you today.”

She pulled the projector down and Nayeon stepped up, flashing a grin at all of you. “Basically, we made an aphrodisiac. And to test it, we’ll have all of you do the exact same things with the exact same person-- Mina.”

Mina stepped forward this time, and you couldn’t help smiling at the shy smile that tugged at her lips. “To keep conditions equal, you’ll all be going on the exact same 2 dates with me,” she explained. “I’ll take notes on how you act around me, and we’ll test how you feel about me at the very end. Any questions?”

The room was basically silent and honestly, you couldn’t see a downside to it either. Take a potion once and go on dates with a pretty girl, then get observed like a hamster on its wheel so you could get paid? A million times better than your old job. “Great,” Jihyo nodded. “Then, we’ll get started. If Y/N could be the first one? You’ll just go into a room with Mina to get interviewed and take your first dose.”

“Don’t die,” someone called out as you passed, and you flashed a glare despite not knowing who it was. Nayeon giggled as she opened the door for you and closed it behind you, leaving you in what you assumed to be a supply closet. Romantic.

“Hi,” Mina greeted softly, already seated across the table. “I’ll just ask you a series of questions, if that’s okay.”

“Go for it.”

“Rate how attracted you are to me on a scale from 1 to 10.”

Your jaw dropped immediately; for the first question, it was awfully invasive, especially when Mina voiced it with such a straight face. But you straightened your spine and answered stiffly, “9.”

It should’ve been 10, but you weren’t trying to look like a literal creep; Mina only hummed and marked a circle on her form, moving on to ask, “Are you considering dating anyone else at the moment?”

“No.”

And in that manner, the questions passed decently quickly, with Mina asking them as flatly as possible and you answering them with the exact same tone. As soon as she set the clipboard aside, though, she returned to her original sweet state. “I’ll just have you swallow this now, if that’s okay.”

The test tube was cold to the touch when you uncapped it, and the liquid inside was suspiciously clear. But you barely gave it a passing glance before downing it like a shot, asking with narrowed eyes, “Is it supposed to taste like nothing?”

“Well, we figured that not everyone would like to taste tequila once a week with none of the good effects,” Mina chuckled and placed the empty test tube in its place.

“How fast will I see results?” you questioned as you stood. “Like, am I gonna wake up in a cold sweat tonight because I can’t handle how much I suddenly love you?”

The girl shook her head, though it was a bit hesitant. “I don’t believe so. It should only become more prominent once you see me more often. Which reminds me, I’ll text you about our first date as soon as I can. Thank you for participating, Y/N.”

You snatched your jacket up and stumbled your way out of the room as quickly as you could, hoping no one was looking as you closed the door behind you with a quivering pulse.

Despite the witch’s words, you were sure that the potion was already taking effect. Why else would your heart start to throb terribly as you looked at her smile?

mina [8:16] Hello Y/N! I was wondering if you had class today?

Mouth full of cheap cup ramen noodles, you stared at your phone screen. If Mina was asking you about your schedule, she had to have something planned (for the experiment, of course. You weren’t delusional). And you weren’t sure if you were mentally ready to see her shy smile again.

But when the thought of the $600 dollar check popped into your head, you reached for your phone and started to type again.

You [8:19] hey, mina. i don’t have class, actually, is this something about the experiment?

mina [8:20] Yes! If possible, please meet me at the front of the school, we’ll be visiting the food trucks at the beach. I’ll pay!

Your stomach growled at the thought of the renowned food trucks at the beach by your university, and you typed out a hasty agreement before stuffing your phone into your bag and setting off for your apartment. There was no way you were enjoying such an opportunity for good food (and perfect company) in a slightly ramen-stained hoodie.

Thankfully, Mina didn’t seem to mind you being late when you approached her. “Hi, Y/N,” she smiled and hitched her bag higher up her shoulder. “I’m glad to see you.”

“Hi,” you breathed. Well, at least you tried to-- you could barely remember how to function when faced with Mina in a slightly cropped red top, her hair tied up in a little ponytail. But you followed her down the street well enough, towards where you vaguely remembered a fleet of various food trucks to be. “So, have you already conducted this part of the experiment with everyone else?”

Mina shook her head and answered, “No, you’re the first. You took the dose first, so you’ll be a bit like the guinea pig within guinea pigs.”

You snickered at that, nearly tripping over one of the raised cracks in the ground. Sure, the way down the hill to the beach wasn’t the safest one ever, but at least it was convenient for conducting test dates. “The lab rat. You know, this doesn’t seem remotely like a scientific experiment.”

“What do you mean?” the other girl asked, eyes on yours.

Coughing, you looked away from her gaze, though you could feel her still staring at the back of your head. “I mean... it’s not exactly normal for 7 people to drink a potion that tastes like nothing, then go on dates with a pretty girl and treat that as testing.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“That’s what you got from my whole spiel?” you sighed in disbelief, turning to look at Mina. She laughed, gums showing slightly and her eyes twinkling, and you were forced to turn to the front yet again. “Whatever. Which trucks are we raiding first?”

And as it turned out, Mina was... generous. You were tempted to ask how she was going to keep herself from going broke if she bought that much food for everyone, but watching her bring yet another load of snacks over to where you sat on the wall, you weren’t sure if she cared too much. “Hey. Are you gonna pay for every date?”

“Hm?” She looked up from her Americano and considered the question. “Well, yes? I mean, we planned for the second date next week to be the fair, and I wouldn’t want any college student to have to pay for those overpriced tickets.”

“Aren’t you a college student?”

Mina hummed lightly and dug into her ice cream, sucking thoughtfully on the spoon. “Well, my parents are... well off? I’d like to put it that way, at least. And I think that when I can, I’ll use that to make others happy. Or to further our coven’s experiments.”

“Rich family,” you observed. “Cool.” To be honest, you didn’t really care about how much money anyone’s family made, but it was nice to have all that food paid for. After all, the sheer amount of things Mina bought could’ve covered several months worth of the finest ramen that the restaurants around campus could’ve offered. “Then why’d you end up going to college here with us normal people?”

She raised an eyebrow jokingly and gathered her knees to her chest. “Am I not a normal person anymore?” When you opened your mouth, slightly sheepishly, she giggled and waved a hand, answering, “I ended up choosing this college because my best friends came here. We’re all Japanese, and Sana wanted to come to Korea, so Momo and I just came along for the ride.”

“Ah.” You turned to watch the sky, the sun melting golden into the surface of the waves just a couple dozen feet away. You understood why it was called golden hour as you watched bright yellow rays flicker in Mina’s eyes and glow in her hair, and you had to resist the urge to pull out a camera and capture the feeling of a first date, as much of an experiment as it was. “Makes sense. Then-- how’d you find your coven? I don’t remember a Momo or a Sana.”

“Our coven is a bit... unconventional,” Mina nodded. “It’s just me, Nayeon, and Jihyo. You know that most covens form as children, and they train together, but we only met in college. See, none of us had our own coven, so it was natural that we came together. Momo and Sana aren’t witches, or we should’ve been together.”

You nodded in silence, prompting her to go on. And she did, a soft smile pressing her lips against her teeth as she thought about the girls eh seemed to consider her friends, or her family. “And, well, none of the three of us have had great luck finding someone to love. Or, to love us,” Mina added as an afterthought. “A love potion was just the first thing we fixated on.”

“Finding someone to love you?” you repeated, hand pressed up against your cheek. “I don’t mean that I don’t believe you, but it’s kind of hard to imagine that it’s difficult to find someone to love you. You’re pretty great, Mina.”

She laughed, “I’m glad you think so. But there’s a reason why we chose me as the one to test the potion with.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Mina looked you right in the eyes, a kind of softness swirling in the brown of her own eyes, and responded equally quietly, “We chose me because we thought I was the hardest to fall in love with.”

“Bullshit,” you responded instantly, heat rising to your ears immediately after. But thankfully, the Japanese girl only looked endeared, and you continued, “I mean, I don’t know if this is just the potion talking, but you’re awesome. I... I think I’d like you even if I wasn’t part of this damn experiment.”

She blushed, the hue of her cheeks matching the pink clouds in the sky. “Well, I think you’re exaggerating on that. But it’s not them, I just volunteered myself. I think people just misunderstand me, you know? It’s hard to find the right person for you when you don’t let people see you. And-- I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. On a first date, too.”

“Hey.” When she looked away from you, you reached over to squeeze her hand. Mina didn’t look back up to you, but you knew she was listening from the way she chewed at her bottom lip. “It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. And I can’t say I know you yet, but I can say I wouldn’t mind knowing you. I’d like it, even.”

Mina laughed, barely loud enough for you to hear, and squeezed your hand. “Thank you, Y/N. I think we should finish our food before it gets cold.”

“Oh, yeah.” You let go to reach for one of the many desserts displayed in front of you, barely fazed by the topic change. “Wouldn’t want your parents’ money to go to waste.”

“Please let that go,” she whined.

“Not a chance,” you winked in response, laughing at her pout. “Not. A. Chance.”

“Lili, I think I’m done for.”

“Like, literally?” Lisa asked mindlessly, receiving a light hit on the head in response. “Ow, what was that for?”

You whined, “This isn’t funny. I can feel myself falling, and there’s no cushion underneath me for me to fall onto.”

The dancer rolled her eyes and reached for her milk tea. “Okay, Miss Overdramatic. You know falling doesn’t work like that, no one’s kicking you off a cliff. Especially not Myoui Mina.”

“I’m not being kicked off, I’m sliding.” You made the motions with your hand, a despondent expression on your face as you scowled, “I’m slipping through a puddle of aphrodisiac, that’s what, and Mina poured it at my feet.”

“Okay, enough with the metaphors, I’m not an English major,” Lisa sighed. She tossed a chip at your face, as if being smeared with salt and oil would wake you up from your Mina-induced trance. “You’ve gone on one date with her and spoken to her approximately twice, I think you aren’t falling just yet.”

“Did you forget the part where I’m drugged to fall in love with her?” you deadpanned.

Lisa paused at that. “Okay, I did forget that. Then what? There’s an explanation as to why you’re feeling this way, and there’s a way to get rid of it. Once you get your paycheck, you just stay away from Mina, should be easy enough, since you never met her before this. And you wait for the potion to wear off.”

“Does it wear off?” you groaned into your hands.

“Did you never ask?” Lisa asked in disbelief. “Wow, Y/N, ever heard of fine print?”

You smacked her with your rolled-up notes yet again. “Shut up. But I have a date with her tomorrow, and I don’t know what to do. I’m feeling like this because of the potion, sure, but I’m still feeling like this! And Mina has 6 other people vying for her now, all under the same effect as me. And it feels... bad.”

“Eloquent,” your friend sighed. “Then I have the perfect solution for you. Don’t go on the second date.”

“I need the money,” you shook your head. “Gimme another one.”

Lisa considered it, sucked on her straw as she did, until she shook her head. “I got nothing. All I can tell you is to enjoy it while it lasts, then just... wait. And if it doesn’t wear off, Jisoo unnie’s studying law.”

As horrible as her suggestions were, you could admit that you felt the slightest bit more assured. In the worst case scenario, you could sue Mina for winning your heart, and in the best, the somehow blissful stabs at your heart would be alleviated soon enough.

As it turned out, you got a chauffer to the fair. Not an actual one, of course-- it was just Jeongyeon, introduced as one of Mina’s friends who could actually drive.

You really weren’t intending to talk to her at first. She was quiet, too, didn’t even turn on the radio once she started driving, but when something that Mina said crossed your mind, you had to speak up. “Hey, Jeongyeon. Can I ask you something? About Mina?”

“Shoot,” she answered simply, keeping her eyes on the road.

“Do you think Mina’s hard to fall in love with?”

Jeongyeon glanced at you at that, her expression slightly quizzical. “What do you mean?”

“She said something yesterday,” you explained. “Mina said that they chose her for the experiment because they thought she was the hardest to fell in love with. She said-- something about being misunderstood?”

The older girl nodded in understanding at that and blew her hair out of her face. After a short pause, she sighed, “I think that’s more of what she thinks than the rest of us. Mina... she thinks she’s unapproachable, you know. She doesn’t open up easily, so I’m surprised she told you that at all. But... she’s been hurt several times, and a lot of people think she’s mean or something similarly stupid just because she’s quiet. That’s all.”

“Oh.” You wet your lips and looked forward to the road, where you could see the fair’s Ferris Wheel already in the distance. “I see.”

And that was that. The two of you fell back into silence, and as comfortable as it was, it only gave you more time to think about what you wanted to say.

Maybe you could see why they would choose the girl who thought of herself as unapproachable and quiet to be the test, but they also didn’t seem to think about the obvious warm color to Mina that she presented. She was quiet, sure, but she was sweet, kind... there was plenty to fall in love with, and even if there wasn’t magic coursing through your system, you thought that you could’ve fallen in love with her anyway.

After bidding goodbye to Jeongyeon at the entrance, you found Mina waiting for you by the fair entrance. “Y/N!” she called out, though her voice still wasn’t loud. You could’ve spotted her anywhere anyway, and made your way over. “You’re a bit early.”

“You were earlier,” you smiled. “So. Are we ready to go in?”

“Absolutely.” Mina linked her arm in yours slightly hesitantly and surprised the both of you, but you took it in stride and swung your arm slightly to bring a smile to her face. “I’ll get our tickets, you get in line.”

“I can pay for myself,” you protested, but she waved you off. “...Okay then.”

The fair was loud, a bit too loud to hear Mina’s voice if she talked normally, so you found yourself leaning in every time she spoke. You really didn’t mind it either, feeling her words tickle your ears-- maybe it was closer than you should’ve been comfortable with, but there was a certain adrenaline pumping in your blood that you weren’t really used to. So you continued on, fed cotton candy to her despite her blush, shared a soda, won a teddy bear for her. Nothing that should’ve made your heart beat as fast as it did.

Nonetheless, time ticked by all too quickly, whirling past in a gust of quiet laughter and honestly terrible jokes. The sun set yet again, the streaks of pink and purple across powder blue oddly similar to the first date you had gone on. Mina checked her watch and frowned, “I think we only have time for one more ride before Jeongyeon comes to pick us up. What do you think?”

You barely had to ponder it before you pointed at the tall, neon-lit Ferris wheel with a smile. “Classic date ride, of course.”

“Classic,” Mina laughed in agreement. She let you tug her towards it and stood in line with you with no complaint, digging a selfie stick out from her bag. “Should we take some pictures up there? It’d be a waste of a beautiful view if we don’t.”

You shrugged, “Of course. Might as well have some pictures to remember our last date by, right?”

Mina looked caught between saying something and staying silent, but she settled with a quiet, “Sure” before starting to set her phone up. Your hand in the crook of her elbow, you tugged her forward when it was necessary, keeping your eyes away from her red-tinted lips as much as you could.

Soon enough, wind was blowing your hair off your face and the cart of the ride was creaking slightly under your weight as someone started the wheel. “Whoa,” Mina laughed breathlessly and peered over the edge. “It’s really high up.”

“And we’re only starting,” you agreed, tugging her back by the wrist. “Don’t fall over, I don’t want to get off this ride with a murder charge on my hands.”

“Hm.” Mina reached over to set the selfie stick on the seat opposite the one the two of you shared, shoving you to get you to match her smile. “Come on, 1, 2, 3.”

With every click of her phone camera, you felt yourself coming closer to her, until you could feel the rise and fall of her chest beside you. You were almost at the top of the ride in barely a couple minutes, the soft sunlight almost blinding you. As you waited for the next camera click, you felt Mina’s hand creep up your arm, up, up, until her slightly cold fingers rested on your neck.

And then she tilted your head, fit her nose right next to yours like it belonged there, and slotted your lips together. You couldn’t think, much less fight whatever force pushed you up against her. You kissed back as best as you could with your senses battling within you, until you realized that the camera shutter had gone off at least ten times.

Mina couldn’t meet your eyes when you did pull back, and she reached over to fiddle with the camera. “Was that a part of the experiment too?” you questioned, your voice raspy.

“Maybe,” she answered, and your heart sank. But she looked up with a smile, her eyes just as confused as you felt. “And maybe not.”

“Oh. Okay,” you said dumbly, then reached over for her hand. There was nothing left to say, anyway, nothing that the slight swell to your lips didn’t already say for you, nothing that wasn’t conveyed when you leaned over to kiss her again.

The idea of allowing a love potion to work its wonders on you was like allowing yourself to be tossed into a trap. But instead of a cold, rough, and terrible trap that you would actively try to escape, you found the trap to be warm, cozy, a place that you wanted to stay-- and a place you knew that you would eventually be ejected from by force.

Once you were in the trap, though, there was no way you could pull yourself back out, especially when you didn’t really want to escape at all. You stayed up for all the nights leading up to the last time you would talk with the bio lab, just thinking about what you would do if everything that had passed by in the last couple weeks was just a figment of an aphrodisiac-induced haze. After all that time, you still didn’t quite know.

But Mina texted you often enough to pull you from that stupor. Thankfully, it wasn’t like one of those stories or dramas, where the main leads somehow fought after their first kiss-- maybe that would’ve been easier than being pulled in deeper. Instead, the two of you talked every day, even if it was only for a little while, and Mina was only worsening whatever situation you couldn’t seem to get out of.

And eventually, the day came where you’d be paid, a day that you had been looking forward to, until you began to dread it.

“Well, doesn’t someone look like a newlywed,” Nayeon greeted at the entrance with a smile, though she didn’t seem to be mocking you. “Come on in, Y/N, we’ll get you started right away.”

The closet was the exact same as it had been the first time that you stepped inside for the interview, but Mina’s smile was much more warm. “Hi, Y/N. How’re you feeling?”

“Good. Fine.” You cleared your throat and attempted to peer at her clipboard. “Questions for me?”

“Yes,” Mina nodded, flipping the pages over. “Are you ready to get started, then? On a scale from one to ten, how attracted are you to me?”

“Ten,” you answered without hesitation this time, and your smile only grew when Mina flushed.

“Okay. Are you considering dating anyone other than me right now?”

“No.” You shook your head, but gulped slightly and leaned back when Mina leaned forward to observe you.

“What about me?”

You paused, blinked, though Mina didn’t seem like she was going to move until you answered, “Yes. I would date you, absolutely.”

She flicked through the pages listlessly before setting them aside and turning back to you. Somehow, Mina looked like she was about to drop a bomb on you, her lips quivering as she calculated the right words. “I... Y/N, I have to tell you something. About the experiment.”

“I’m not going to die, am I?”

Your shitty attempt at humor did manage to prompt a smile from Mina, but she remained serious. “Not that. But- do you understand control groups? In experiments?”

“Um. I think so?” you answered, racking your brain for whatever limited knowledge of science remained with you. “It’s the normal group, right? The one that isn’t experimented on.”

“Yes, just about,” Mina nodded. She reached for your hands and clasped them within hers, eyes pleading for you to understand something that you hadn’t heard yet. “Y/N, you were the control. I... we had to make sure that it was the potion working, and not me, and you- we used you for that. You were never given any potion.”

“I...” you stammered out. Every instinct in you was screaming out to pull away from Mina’s grasp, to question every aspect of your existence that had led up to you being tricked into loving her. Somehow, everything being real only made it feel more fake, even though you now knew that what you had felt was completely you. “I don’t understand.”

Mina said softly, “You fell in love with me, or at least liked me, on your own. You didn’t work as a control group because the same thing happened to you as it did to the others, even though you never took the aphrodisiac.”

“So,” you faltered, “all seven of us fell for you. I’m just the sucker who’s in it for real, huh?”

“I was willing to sacrifice my own feelings for the experiment,” Mina clarified, shaking her head. “I knew I would fall for one of you, but I didn’t think that you, as the control, would be the one who I fell for. And who fell for me.”

Silence fell over the two of you, though you remained there, hands clasped together and eyes meeting with a clarity that speech could never capture. But you tried anyway. “Okay.”

“Just okay?” Mina questioned.

You smiled weakly as a response, “Yeah. Um... how about we go on another date to talk? After you finish interrogating everyone else?”

Mina let go of your hands and let you stand up, but you could feel her smiling at your back as you closed the closet door behind you. Like a repetition of when you thought that you’d be induced into loving her, your heart beat in your throat as you leaned against the wood.

But when you knew it was real, when you knew that it wasn’t magic seizing you by the hand and pulling you into the unknown, you smiled. Because it felt... right.

#twice #twice x reader #mina x reader #mina imagines #mina scenarios #twice imagines #twice scenarios #twice reactions #twice mina #mina #mina myoui #myoui mina

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