#he's gonna be so mad when he realizes there's a second ghost knight next door lmao

[hiding-under-the-willow]

ENAMOURED by your ghosts au I would love details on what happened to etho 👀 from my understanding it was hels??? Very obssessed with that art btw it's so cool

Yeah yeah yeah I've worked out a little more of the detail for this whole backstory in my head since I last talked about it so I can actually get into it sure :]

So while the property that Grian and Joel end up in during the main plot of the au is large, it's mostly taken up by like the giant ass manor that's on it and the grounds around that. Which is why they've got such a plethora of ghosts, there have been thousands of people living there over thousands of years. Etho's property however, which he bought for cheap maybe ten years before the main story of the au, is almost entirely undeveloped, and has very rarely been a place people lived, hence why he's got like 3 ghosts total. There's a single cabin on the property, one that hasn't been used since around the 1890s when the property was used as a hunting grounds, which was promptly abandoned after the hunting accident that led to Gem's death. Hels had, up until Gem's death and subsequent residence on the property as a ghost, been the only one haunting the property for about 500 years.

He was generally unpleasant in his life, but 500 years on his own building resentment and anger in his loneliness in his unchanging world as he watches Wels across the fence seemingly finding companionship in his afterlife hadn't exactly made him any better. He was stubborn, and unfriendly, and averse to change, and extremely quick to anger. He had lost the deft touch of control that most knights wield over their acts of violence. Lacking his sword in death and unable to leave any touch on the world other than the occasional scratch from the sharp talon like ends of his gauntlets' fingers, he has taken to leaving long, animal like scratches in his environment when he cannot ignore that call to violence in his anger. The cabin looks like it's been ransacked by a bear, claw dug grooves in doors and tables, old dusty furniture with fabric tears revealing rotted insides, wallpaper that peels in unnatural places and forms. The trees around the property are often similarly marked. The only thing seemingly left fully intact, is a dark sword mounted above the fireplace.

Gem, being the strong-willed individual that she is, manages to mellow him out a bit in the 100 or so years they spend alone together on the property. She herself is strange and unusual in a way that seems to throw him off enough to manage to endear her to him in the time he spends too confused to be angry. And so he remains this kind of sulking, possessive, angry thing, but they share the house, and having as sharp a tongue as she does, Gem starts to turn him towards more verbal sparing than enacting any physical violence on their surroundings.

And so that 100 years of joint solitude passes by, Cub dies on the property and haunts his respective corner, seemingly uninterested in sharing the little cabin with Gem and Hels, and so Hels remains comfortable in his unchanging world.

And then Etho buys the property.

And it isn't exactly strange that someone has bought the property, it had probably passed through a dozen hands in the time since Hels had been stuck there, but no one had ever really moved in. It had been used as a hunting estate and as a scout's meeting place and as a garden, but never had anyone looked at the little cabin he had claimed as his own and decided they were going to live there. And the assumption had been that with the state it was in, no one would. Until Etho came along.

He comes in, all on his own, and starts fixing things in the little cabin, pulling out old furniture, cleaning dusty floors and struggling through plumbing work and tearing out old wallpaper. The only other person around in this time is XB, who he seems to have hired to handle the grounds while he handles the house. By the time the house is even slightly livable he's moved in.

This, obviously, does not make Hels very happy. Gem is happy to see the house get an update, and is intrigued by this weird lonesome guy who has moved onto their property, and this only seems to upset Hels more. He starts acting out I little ways, tearing Etho's clothes, scratching new furnature he brings in, messing up repair work.

Etho isn't oblivious to this, and isn't exactly a skeptic when it comes to the supernatural, so he starts talking to whatever entity he imagines to be antagonizing him throuout the day, and decides to antagonize him right back, much to Gem's entertainment and Hels' increasing agitation.

It is the day when Etho finally decides to take down the old sword above the fireplace that things go wrong.

Etho probably should've known not to touch the sword when he watched a set of scratch marks appear in the stones of the mantle beside him as he prepared to take it down. But he kept going. And maybe when a second set raked across his brand new dining room table as he pulled the sword down he should've thought to just put it back. Instead he continues to verbally antagonize Hels as he brings the thing down. Maybe he gets a little too on the nose, connecting the sword to his antagonizing spector, either way he says just the wrong thing to set the ghost off. Hels, used to interacting with Gem, who he can touch but can't injure, attempts to grab at Etho in a moment of anger, instead managing to claw the shit out of the side of his face. In the panic of realizing what he had done he attempts to catch him by the arm as he stumbles back and does the exact same thing to his arm. Queue panic and blood and such. XB hears the commotion from wherever he is outside and is the one who calls an ambulance and such. I imagine Etho gets his first shaky glimpse of Hels right as he's passing out from the blood loss.

Etho survives, of course, but looses an eye and has some pretty severe damage to his face and arm. Gem is the first of the ghosts he meets when he returns to the property, Hels hiding away when he comes home. He kind of shuts himself away in the house after that. If it seemed like he was running away from something moving to this middle of nowhere empty property before, it certainly seemed like he was hiding now. Xb is the only one he keeps around, and even he's stuck at an arms distance. It takes him a long time to not be terrified of Gem, or of Cub when he meets him. How he and Hels eventually manage to coexist is a whole other story. But either way I've been typing for too long lol I need to wrap this up

Crazy place for this au to have ended up at from 'haha wouldn't it be funny if Etho was Grian and Joel's weird shut-in neighbor that can also see ghosts' but whatever

[death-himself]

Love is Dead—Chapter 8

MY SANDERS SIDES WRITING HAS RETURNED

Summary: Janus possesses Remus to try and speak to Patton. When that doesn't work, he moves on to Roman.

Word Count: 1,570

Warnings: Possession, Manipulation, Doll Decapitation

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Patton came back from college at eight that night, yawning as he entered the house. Janus waited for him to eat whatever dinner his father had made before following him up to his bedroom to enact his plan. Virgil noticed him following and sighed, grabbing the chocolate bar from his room and walking reluctantly after him.

Patton went to sit on his bed as Virgil stood outside of his room, waving the chocolate bar around to get Janus’s attention. The ghost took a deep breath, holding out a hand and allowing the candy to leave Virgil’s hand, floating over to be right before Patton’s eyes.

Patton looked up, staring blankly with a glazed-over look at the bar of candy. A smile grew on Janus’s lips; Patton must believe that he exists now! But then the human yawned, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, then lied down and pulled his blankets over him. Janus allowed the candy to drop to the ground.

“My gods, does he think he’s hallucinating?”

“Yeah, probably.” Virgil mumbled, pulling out his phone as if bored.

“What the hell?”

“Hey, he had a long day at college, you’d probably think you were hallucinating too.” Janus had the chocolate float into the air, debating which of the brothers to throw it at for a moment, before chucking it at Virgil’s head. Virgil cursed, grabbing it and preparing to chuck it back, before remembering who exactly had thrown it.

“Fuck you.” Janus ignored him.

“We’ll try again tomorrow, when his mind is more awake.”

As it turned out, that didn’t work out either.

After giving up on the floating candy Janus moved on to more drastic measures, completely against Virgil’s will. After the kids came back from kindergarten one day he floated over to Remus, who was happily cutting off the head of one of Roman’s dolls. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Can you help me guillotine all these dolls first?” He didn’t even want to know where an eight-year old had learned that word, simply taking a seat in front of the child and telekinetically ripping the head off of a doll. Remus giggled excitedly, working at the doll in his hands faster with his safety scissors.

“I’d like to possess you.”

“Like in a scary movie?”

“Yes, like in a scary movie. I figured it would be the easiest way to get Patton to recognize that I exist. Would you be willing to go through with that?” Remus nodded far too eagerly.

“Would you be able to bully Ro in my body? Because then you’ll get in trouble and not me!”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s how your parents will see it, but alright.” Remus hummed at that.

“Okay! You can possess me after we kill all the dolls!” The safety scissors managed to make a small cut in the neck of Remus’s doll, encouraging him to cut at it harder. Janus sighed, preparing to have to stay there for another few hours.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had possessed a living person, but he knew it had been a while. Yes, quite a while. And he had definitely never possessed a child before, but rather an adult. He rubbed at his eyes, looking around as the world came into focus. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Remus singing the same chorus of a children’s song on repeat. He had to make this quick, before that kid drove him insane.

He raced up the stairs, knocking on Patton’s door before entering quietly and politely, trying to make it obvious that he wasn’t Remus. “Good afternoon Patton.” Patton looked him up and down, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Heya kiddo, what’s up?”

“I am not a “kiddo,” Patton.” Janus said, the high-pitched squeakiness of Remus’s voice making him want to pound his head into the wall. “My name is Janus. You’ve heard of me, haven’t you?”

Patton nodded, laughing awkwardly. “Sure have. It’s, uh, good to meet you, Janus.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Ah, well...you’ve kinda done this before, Remus kiddo. It’s not really all that weird.” Janus blinked, mentally turning to the five-year-old, who had finally moved on to repeating the next verse of his song.

“You’ve done this before?” The thought came out almost as a screech. Remus went silent.

“I can get away with a lotta stuff if I pretend to be possessed.”

“And how did you find that out?”

“Back in one of our other houses a ghost possessed me.”

“Fuck!” Janus shouted, leaving Remus’s body and storming up to his attic. Every time, every time he makes an attempt, it always fails! What on earth was he supposed to do? He let out a huff, running a hand through his hair.

The other kid. He didn’t seem like the type to fake being possessed. Perhaps he could be of some use, if Janus could just get him to trust him enough to possess him. He flew back downstairs, searching every room.

Roman was drawing while lying on the floor of the living room. He had luckily not walked in on the carnage that was his doll collection just yet; if he knew of Janus’s involvement in that he may be a bit less willing to hand over his body.

“Good afternoon, Roman.” The kid jumped, eyes flicking around before landing on Janus. He scooted away, brandishing a crayon at the spirit shouting “Get away! Evil! Demon!”

“You are so threatening. I am absolutely terrified of your pink crayon.”

“As you should be! I’ll call Virgil in and he’ll exorcise you right outta here!”

“Are you done yet? I’d like to ask a favor of you.” Roman squinted his eyes, not lowering his crayon.

“What kinda favor?”

“A simple one. It’ll only take a few moments. Just a simple possession, for only five minutes or so.”

“Possession?” Roman shrieked. “No! I won’t let you!” He threw his crayon at Janus, saw it pass through him, then threw a second, then a third, giving up only when a fourth of his crayons were lying on the floor behind Janus.

“A simple “no” would’ve been enough.” Janus floated back, giving Roman plenty of room to pick up all his thrown crayons. He huffed. This would be difficult, though. How could he get a kid like Roman to trust him, especially since his twin seemed to have a hobby of pretending to be possessed to get his way? He watched as Roman got back to drawing, warily glancing up at Janus every once in a while.

“You like to draw?” Janus asked. Roman nodded, picking up a green crayon and scribbling out what the spirit could only assume was a dragon. “You’re very good for your age.” Roman glanced up at him skeptically, before nodding again. “I’m gonna be the next Mona Lisa.”

“You mean the next Da Vinci? Mona Lisa was the painting, not the artist.”

“Yeah.” He clearly didn’t care about the difference. Janus hummed, thinking for a moment.

“Say, Roman, I’ll be perfectly honest here. There’s a reason why I’d like to possess you.” The kid made a resolute “mhm” sound, saying “To do evil stuff!”

“No, not to do “evil stuff.” Rather to find...love.” That seemed to get his attention. Roman looked up curiously.

“Like true love? Do you need a true love’s kiss to not be evil anymore?”

“Ah, you could say that.” Roman leaned closer, his body seeming to bounce a bit with excitement.

“Really? So you’re cursed with the evilness and need a true love’s kiss to take it away?”

“Sure.” He lied. “And you can think of Patton as...a knight in shining armor of sorts.”

“Patty gets to be a knight?!” He yelled happily. Janus quickly shushed him, worried that his parents would end up interrupting. “He sure does, Roman. Which is why I would like your assistance in getting his attention. Because he can’t see me, Roman, and that makes it quite difficult to get this...true love’s kiss from him.”

Roman nodded dutifully, seeming to have forgotten all of his fear in the name of making one of his fairy tale stories come to life. He picked up one of his crayons and a new sheet of paper and began scribbling out a new drawing. Based on the splotches of yellow, red, and black Janus realized with dread that the child was trying to draw him.

He finished proudly, holding it up for Janus to see. “There! Now Patton’ll be able to know what you look like so he can fall in love with you! What do you think?” The drawing was awful, a mess of splotches with a yellow smiley face where his head was. But he couldn’t tell him that, he wasn’t enough of a monster to tell a child their drawing was the worst image he had ever laid eyes upon.

“It’s lovely.” He said bluntly. Roman cheered, racing up the stairs screaming for Patton faster than Janus could blink. “Wait, don’t—fuck.”

And that’s how a child’s drawing of him ended up stuck to the fridge. Virgil laughed for a good five minutes when he saw it, making sure to take a picture just in case the spirit got mad enough to rip it up. “It’s pretty accurate, don’t ya think?”

“Shut up, Cain.”

“He captured your face perfectly.”

“I despise you.”

Tagging: @rebelrewriter @arodynamic-enby @bullet-tothefeels

[its-pronounced-quoassoint]

Power Rangers AU-Chapter 8

Pairings: romantic Logicality, Prinxiety, Demus, Remile

This Chapter features: Logan centric, trans!Logan

This Chapter Warnings: talks of past violence, brief mention of PTSD, description of scraped hands, mention of past ‘possession’, talks of manipulation, some cursing, sympathetic Deceit and Remus

Credit for this AU goes to @when-day-met-the-knight (specifically this post).

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic please let me know in reply!

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Chapter 8-Renette

Logan still thought they should have brought Patton to a medical proffessional. Thomas had practice with typical medical proceedures from his own time as a Ranger, but Patton's collapse should have been treated more carefully. However, he also knew that taking him to see a real doctor could potentially reveal his and their identities. Logan complied with Thomas's instructions and allowed Patton to be taken back to Thomas's home. The team was frantic. Remus and Dee weren't speaking to anyone but each other and it was starting to get on Logan's and Roman's nerves. Yes, they may be good friends, or friends-with-benefits, or whatever they were, but they had to confide in the others. The risk they had taken of talking to Virgilius like that was too great to not at least ask Thomas about. Then when their plan-well it didn't fail, to be honest Logan didn't know what had happened-but the two's plan didn't have the outcome they wanted and now they were shutting everyone else out.

Finally they reached Thomas's house. Emile discreetly hurried them in through the back. Remus set Patton down on the couch carefully and the rest of the Rangers, plus Emile sat around the table. They all deactivted thier Ranger armor and looked around. Emile came over to Logan and sat down next to him, pulling up a first aid kit and silently asking for Logan's cooperation. Logan hadn't even realized how badly his hands hurt. He looked at his palms to see them scrapped and raw, bleeding slightly in a few areas. When had that happened? He asked himself.

Logan allowed Emile to begin the disinfecting. It didn't hurt as badly as he had anticipated.

"I'm sorry." Thomas croaked out. "There's been quite a few attacks since Roman and Remus became Rangers, but I didn't expect she'd-she'd do . . . that so soon."

"Thomas it's okay." Roman gave a weak smile. "Really, you couldn't have known."

"Yeah, but I could have given you a warning."

"Even with such a warning, we likely wouldn't have known the extent of her ability, and I'm assuming that was barely scratching the surface of what she can do." Logan winced a little as Emile pressed the cotton harder into his palm.

"What even was that?" Dee asked. Oh so he hasn't totally forgotten us? Logan rolled his eyes to himself.

"Joan and Talyn called it possession-"

"Any ghost can do that in less than one lesson." Logan heard Roman whisper. That must be some Broadway reference I have yet to learn, he thought.

"The Dragon witch, sometimes she would possess the Generals that attacked us. When we came too close to actually stopping them. She'd take over their body and that black cloud would leave us almost defenseless." Thomas continued.

"Did she ever do, ya know, that?" Roman grunted, likely referencing the Dragon Witch's verbal maltreatment towards them.

"Only a couple times. She never really took possession of her generals, and when she did she was never that mad. She acted impressed, almost proud. It was so unnerving. Like she wanted her generals to fail against us. We didn't know why." Thomas sagged back into his chair. "She's never really said any of those things before."

"So we should expect her to do it again?" Roman asked incredulously.

"If you keep trying to make Virgilius turn to our side, I'd say so." Thomas sighed.

Logan, Roman, and Thomas turned to Reus and Dee, they held somewhat guilty expressions, but weren't backing down.

"What the hell you two?" Roman finally broke the silence. "Why didn't you tell us you were going to do that?"

"You didn't seem too keen on the idea when I asked you the first time, Roman!" Remus crossed his arms and huffed.

"What?" Logan looked to Roman. "When did you talk to Roman-"

"Saturday. Dee read up to the second to last chapter at that point and we came up with the plan." Reus stated.

"Remus talked to Roman about it later that day but apparently he said Virgilius wasn't gonna be convinced and we were just wasting time." Dee growled. "Figured if that's what Roman thought you two would be even less inclined to do it."

"But you did it anyway! And look at what happened!" Roman gestured to Patton on the couch.

"How could we have known that was gonna happen!" Dee refuted. "We just figured if we talked to him long enough he might see our side. We could help him!"

"And if he didn't then we'd know not to hold back." Remus lowered himself further in his chair.

"Not hold back?!" Roman stood. "What so when we fight him you're just holding back!"

"Roman you don't get it. That's not him." Dee's voice simmered.

"You don't know him!" Roman harshly put it.

"Patton and the two of us are the only ones that have gotten this close to him. He just gives off this feeling it's-"

"Unnatural." Patton's soft voice said from the couch. "Pink Ranger deactivate."

The Rangers and Emile rushed over to him frantically. Logan felt the weight on his chest that he hadn't realized was there, get lifted off of him. Patton smiled a little, but his eyes showed a  protectiveness Logan was familiar with.

"Patton what-" Roman started.

"Dee and Remus are right. Virgilius, he's-well-I don't know what he is, but being so close to him, it just felt wrong. Unnatural. It doesn't feel right. He's just like what Dee said; a pawn in her game. She's using him and if he hasn't seen it already then he's going to real soon." Patton explained.

"Patton-"

"I think he needs our help." Patton looked to Logan, desperately trying to get him to understand.

"I think he's been using Downright as a message. I mean why else would he attack after each chapter is posted, he wanted us to read it for a reason." Dee said quiety. "Then the last chapter was posted and it was all about Richie and Eddie leaving Derry, it was such a strange choice, but after talking to Dee we realized there were two ways you could look at it. We didn't really know for sure if he wanted to leave the Dragon Witch or not, but asking him what he thought was the perfect way to really figure it out."

"If he thought what the writer did made snese, then we could be even more sure that he's coming to our side." Remus finished. "Then his explination, it just made everything click! He wants to leave just like Richie and Eddie left Derry! I mean come on it just makes so much sense."

"We were getting through to him! Thomas said she only possessed the Generals when they were about to lose, we didn't even start fighting!" Dee went on. "We were making sense to him and it scared her."

"Before she possessed him, he seemed so tired." Patton said. "His emotions were just so strong I could feel it! He was so tired of the fighting! I'm not making this up. I know what I felt."

"How?" Roman asked. "Pat you're so sure this was how he felt, but you don't know him."

"I could feel what he was feeling!" Patton tried.

"Patton has always been better at sensing people's emotions, and knowing how to help them in times of distress." Logan nodded

"Megan calls it my sixth sense. It's not a super power but I'm almost never wrong. I know what I felt, it-it came from him." Patton stated firmly.

"If you're so sure that's how he feels, then what do we do about it?" Thomas asked. "Knowing the Dragon Witch, she's just going to make him hate us more now that she knows you two tried to help him. He's not going to be as easy to sway."

It was quiet. Logan looked to Patton and sat next to him, allowing Patton to intertwine his pinky with Logan's. Patton moved to fully hold his hand, but Logan felt the sting of his scrapes and pulled away. Patton looked at Logan curiously, to which he showed Patton his palms.

"I hate her." Patton whispered for just Logan to hear. "You know I don't say that lightly, but it's how I feel. She shouldn't have said those things to you. I didn't like her before, but when she sa-said that, gosh it made me snap."

"Patton-"

There was a knock at the door, interrupting Logan. Everyone was still.

"I'll get it." Emile said calmly.

"Wait Emile!" Patton whisper-yelled after him.

Emile only waved off Patton's concern and strode to the door.

"Renette!" He exclaimed giddily, jumping into the person's arms.

"Hey Sugar." The person responded.

Emile was set down and he dragged the person into the room for everyone to see. A tall, built woman follwed him. Her dark skin and even darker hair complimented the rose gold color of her suit, and her boxbraids were up in a bun. Her overall look was proffessional and Logan admired it greatly.

"Renette." Thomas sighed, relieved.

"Sorry you had to wait so long Thomas. Every time I planned on arriving something got in the way. Luckily, I was here for this one, so less work on my part had to be done. I came over here as quickly as I could." She stated.

Logan then recognized her, she was a pedestrian that he had helped in the square.

"Sorry, but, who are you?" Dee asked.

"Right, oh this is long overdue." She adressed the rest of the room. "My name is Renette Rademeyer-"

"That's awesome." Remus remarked.

"Thanks I picked it myself." Renette chuckled. "And I'm going to be working with you all on behalf of the federal government."

"You work with the FBI?" Roman asked.

"With your part of the FBI." She clarified. "I'll be handling a lot of things for you boys like foreign affairs, and other aid you can provide, I'm a go between, and a form of mentor. Thomas has been doing good, but you boys need to get some real training in."

"Foreign affairs?" Logan asked.

"You've been doing a great job fighting Virgilius and whatnot, but that's not the only thing you can help with. Other places around the world need you."

"Like the Avengers. They didn't just defeat aliens, they stopped terrorists and stuff." Patton said.

"We have to fight terrorists?" Roman asked.

"Oh, no no. Fighting terrorists is far too complicated to send you boys in." Renette stopped him. "Mainly outreach. Helping people in other countries get food, supplies, help during natural disasters, that sort of thing."

They nodded.

"And of course there are other things that I have to speak with you all about. This may take a while, so please get comfy." Renette waited.

Roman the sat next to Logan, then Dee, then Remus. Thomas sat in a chair, and Emile on the ground, looking up to Renette happily.

"To start, there's the matter of none of you except Thomas have summoned your Zords yet, so we'll be working on that." She began. "And because of this, we aren't going to be asking for any outreach, but know that once you can consistantly summon them, your participation in world helping efforts will be madatory."

Logan and the others felt a twinge of guilt at that. The zords were a vital part of the Power Rangers and to deafeat the Dragon Witch they would definitely, need them. Thomas said it had taken a long time for any of the last Power Rangers to summon them, but that didn't make it any easier.

"Then there's the matter of publicity. Currently as I'd hope you know, mattel is coming out with a new line of Power Rangers action figures and other companies plan to make products in your images. Then there's movies, music, and other forms of entertainment about you. Since, technically the Power Rangers have been copyrighted, you will all be compensated. However, you will not be actually receiving any compensation until after you've become a legal adult and college fees are paid."

"I've been wondering about college." Logan piped up. "I don't plan to stay in Florida for college and if the Dragon Witch is still attacking-"

"I guess I should get into that now." Renette sighed. "While there's no demand for you all to go to college here, I would hope by the time you leave you'll be able to summon your Zords and arrive to the sight of the attack quickly. If not, other arrangements will have to be made. Whichever college you attend shouldn't be a problem."

"So um, what was that about money?" Remus asked.

"And movies?" Roman piped up.

"Yeah that too, but mostly the money."

"Well, the compensation you all will be receiving for items being made about you, will go into a fund for each of you to attend a college that you are accepted into. When the time comes to go to college, that money will be paying for all of it, and if it doesn't cover wherever you would like to go the government will handle the rest." Renette explained. "Also any explaination to your parents will be provided, so don't worry about that. Any questions so far?

"No? Good. Next we have to talk about any invites you as Rangers may receive. Movie screenings, parades, celebrity parties, lunches, news station interviews, possibly even public addresses." Renette went on. "You'll obviosly have to go as a Ranger so your identity isn't revealed. You will be briefed later about how to speak to the public, but really it'll depend on the situation."

"Are we gonna be invited to see Broadway shows?" Roman asked expectantly.

"I would assume so. Thomas, I believe you and Emile saw Hamilton in Chicago upon invitation, correct?"

"And Dear Evan Hansen in New York." Emile nodded.

"So yeah, I would expect that." Renette shrugged and smiled at Roman's happier expression. "As for celebrity parties, well, you're not encouraged to go to all of them obviously. If you are able to attend a party that you've been invited to, you have to run it by me first and get my approval. There will of course be consequences if these rules aren't followed. When it comes to the news, like with public addresses, we'll brief you on what to say beforehand."

There was a beeping from inside her suit jacket that Logan recognized as the same text tone he set for his own phone. Renette pulled her phone out and scrolled up, likely unlocking it. Logan noticed the case looked much like his own, but rather than black, hers was yellow and clear.

"My son needs me." Renette grunted as she looked at the screen. "I-I'm sorry boys this was supposed to be a longer talk, but I've got to leave. One more thing though! On friday, I need all of you here after school. We'll be taking you to meet with your therapists."

"Therapists?" Dee asked.

"Of course, you think we expect kids to fight aliens every week and not have some kind of PTSD? You're all mandatorily meeting with seperate therapists. You can figure out schedules with them when you all meet." Renette stooped down to give Emile a hug, pulling the boy up into the air and squeezing before setting him back down. "And so you know Sugar, Remy says 'hello', but in that caffeine pumped voice he gets."

"Aww!" Emile folded his fingers. "How's he doing?"

"Better. Renae and Roland are being way over protective of him, just so you know."

"Well, tell him I said hi and that the cappuccino machine in Mr. Richard's room doesn't work anymore." Emile replied. "It was good to see you Renette."

"Always a pleasure Sugar." She smiled and left for the door. "You too Thomas. We'll talk again soon boys!"

With that she was out the door.

"Who's Remy?" Patton asked, there was a tone to his voice that suggested he was subtly trying to say something else, but Logan didn't know what.

"Renette's son." Emile said happily.

"That was so weird." Dee remarked. "I mean she just walked in here, said she was our FBI agent and left."

"Why didn't you tell us we were gonna have to see therapists?" Roman asked Thomas.

"Well, they were still trying to find some for you all, and frankly it wasn't the right time."

"It feels like no one's talking in this team anymore." Roman pouted.

"Renette tends to just show up and leave a lot Dee, you get used to it." Emile shrugged.

Behind him Thomas mouthed 'No you dont'.

"I liked her." Logan decided to say, not quite intending for anyone to hear.

"Agreed." Patton said back, softly though so only Logan would get the response.

Logan smiled at Patton and looked back down. His own phone suddenly alerted him of a text message.

Nora Montgomery:

Mama's home.

We told her you were in bed already. Come in through the back, Lauren's ready to let you in whenever.

"Shit!" Logan stood suddenly. "I have to go!"

"What why?" Patton followed, standing as well.

"Lo, what's going on?"

"Roman, my mom's home." Logan breathed out.

"Shit." Roman agreed.

Taglist:

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors @maddarc @pheonix-inside-reblogs @thisismysanderssidesblog @almost-all-my-ships-are-gay @mostpeopleannoyme @the-smol-est @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @nadja-chamack16@too-bi-too-function @rainbowbowtie @mistypelt1234 @tricksterangel25 @authorized-trash @echocw @stripestar128128 @coffee-mugz @slitherynchicken

[404fmdhaon]

creative claims verifications — let’s not love each other

summary: written circa mid-2019 — friends to lovers, it gets complicated and chung gyujeong is a teenage drama queen writing an ode about his feelings. mentions of @fmdjade warnings: none, rough translations...yeah wc: 1918, not including lyrics/dates

(sometime in april 2019)

restlessness catches him off guard.

it’s in the dead of night when the dorms become hollowed out with the memories of seven years inside knight. a deserted storm takes in the aftermath of members gone (he’s lost track of who’s still inside living and who’s reaped the benefit of leaving early). drunken steps staggered in the corridor, he barely manages to slip past the boxes packaged up, sealed away and stamped with heavy nostalgia along the walls.

past the first door and to the next, he stumbles inside the buildings built from cardboard boxes lined up. there’s a straightaway for the keys. 

maybe he’s had too much to drink and the one-punch wayward feeling settling inside the pit of his stomach all fixes itself on too many soju bombs poured in high spirits. or maybe, he’s just a schmuck on the verge of an impending crisis. (high alert, he knows it’s the latter) — his mind makes a dart straight towards jiae.

acceptance comes in waves when he sees her cat-shaped eyes engrave themselves inside his head past the visions of a hazy blue screen — his screen holds the remnants of a beat left unsalvageable, and he scraps it when he knows what he’s trying to say.

she stares at him blankly like a phantom ghost lingering in the room. the sound laughter brimming from her lips (the edges of her lips quirked, just like he always remembers her) as the soju muffles it whole. the way her head tips in tandem with the glass balancing in her hand and all to the drops of alcohol spilling in when he observes her still. 

fuck.

he snaps. 

snaps back to reality where her image fades, but present still lingers. haunts him reaching in and pulling him out with subdued warmth that follows when he closes his eyes and shakes his head, mirroring her own smirk. and when he peeks up, acceptance in stage one: 

“let’s not love each other it’s hard when we break up let’s just be like this friends but not friends”

he hums the words hugged in the hysteria of acceptance. his voice, incredulous. his laughter, a complete sham. 

and it becomes a piteous ode to her when his voice cuffs the words in a drawl, stretched thin barely flitting past two tones and yanked down to a mere monotone. let’s just be like this — he repeats, eyes closed and voice hushed. 

for the sake of his sanity, his eyes peek open to a blank screen. logic open, new scratch from start. hands scrambling through a half-empty box, he fishes out the mic, plugs it in. hits record.

a full on acapella — he’s never done this. not when he’s fixated to a crooning denomination of himself, fidgeting with the words (say it till you believe it. except, he knows he’s known it all along).  his voice doesn’t remain coherent when he drowns inside the effects of alcohol doused in woes, no. he doesn’t coax himself into believing, just continues singing.

autopilot takes over, and he loses control of reservations serving as barriers. a peek into honesty, he lets himself relive a play-by-play of moments in highlight. the first, shoulders barely grazing in the dead of christmas 2018. banter laced shoves disguised as taps on skin, singing the cries of those martyred by holidays — holidays never painted lonely nor cold, only each one collected by her. his t-shirt contradicting the barren winds of winter, but it’s the pink hues flushed against his skin, and the counter of her hand flitting his. she takes seoul in her palm, lets it marvel with her head held high and the turn of her shoulder — he watches her from behind. 

“even if we’re sorry to each other when we break up, we’ll be strangers let’s just be like this. friends but not friends.”

he mutters each word, each one being a pang to his beating heart bruised blue. it’s no longer god-sent the way he shrivels his hesitation in averted conversations and empty gaze. instead, silence becomes the rumination of what-ifs, and pessimism lined outcomes of endings — an ending bound to end, he’s ignorant to what side to place.

a few mouse clicks, and he stops. doesn’t want to think or hover over territorial lines. there’s no more savoring of dignity nor the pride that’s dissipated to mindless nothings. what remains is one: chung gyujeong with palms stamped to his head, reeling back inside words carved out from his mind.

—

(sometime in july 2019)

“what’s jiae up to?”

“i don’t know why the fuck are you asking me.”

“you’ve always been a shitty liar, gyujeong.” 

“hey siwoo? fuck off.”

fingers on the end of a dead line, he tosses the phone in lieu for the keyboard set in front. 

first comes the technical run of scales that become embedded like pieces of muscle memory when he loses track of a one-sided mind. and his fingers make room for the chords that become an ode to slow-moving jazz in a dark room. softness conflicts the hard shove of his words when he’s stripped to nothing but what lies when he’s left alone.

chung gyujeong versus gyujeong enticed and intoxicated in fleeting playbacks of jiae.

he slams the keys, a mangled cacophony of jarred emotions. dismembered — he abandons the call to ignore, slides away the keys for an old file he’s hidden deep inside folders and folders of his hard drive. yet, when he clicks, he’s reminded again in the drags of his voice crooning some lyric off-key, yet coherent to his ears.

he remembers.

catharsis is best served in a track, it’s what he’s always known. acceptance is long and gone, and he allows himself to tune into each and every yank of the words he doesn’t voice.

so, he records.

the chords come in iterations, one then two. the grand piano he doesn’t have sitting inside the living room of family he’s abandoned long ago. now, he’s in the place of some musty jazz club inside the heart of soul, the taste of anonymity on the tip of his tongue with a hat pulled low and a mask covering him whole. glimpses of the guitarist on stage, and some pull of the keys entice him for mere seconds before he finds why he’s there in the first place: her. 

her eyes narrowed, chin askew. the grin pulling the edges of her lips higher as she melts into the sounds of low-spoken jazz — he finds himself as the reflection of her.

fuck. 

one deep breath and the recoil of another flashback — he loses. tongue in cheek, he keeps the chords on file. 

there’s a storm thrumming in the beats of his heart, steadied by the taps of his feet. a bite of his nail that festers uncertainty of what the night brings because sleep’s never been kind to him. not when his head barely stays afloat the tempest waters and the crash of realizations that keep him in the undertow.

catharsis. it’s what he craves, and what he sprawls out when he finds the notebook inside the half-empty box pushed to the side.

he keeps the keys on loop, filling the empty void of silence.

it becomes less suffocating when the pen scrawls itself against the pages — pressure digging deep enough to tear. 

“when you’re sick, i worry a little  enough to bring the medicine i have lying at home 'i just have it lying around so use it if you need it’’

it comes in stages when the resolution in muffled voices across seas come clear cut — one husky voice, and he’s jolted awake in heavy sighs, counting down the hours with a vinyl bag wrapped around his wrist. ‘it’s nothing’, he shies away from, steps out of comfort and loses himself when he tip-toes into her dorms, shedding the excuse of icy glares and dead-beat stares.

concession in pride comes when envy fills his bare bones. the gritty voice he punctures through her widened eyes, voice dull. her voice still soft like summer-lines, echos blaring enough to mute away everything else — he turns away.

“when you’re with other guys, i get mad but i want to pass it like it’s nothing even if it sucks, a bad heart hurts a little.”

turns away from the aftermath of something ugly with the tinge of contempt harboring resentment inside each person who unravels her. it’s easy on the surface, but he’s no liar — he’s cracking underneath.

he cracks, fissures out into an implosion of self-doubt. inside the questions of what becomes when they’re stationed in complacency of her head on his lap. his fingers in her hair, and the image of smiling inside no words spoken inside a dusty club. 

friends.

friendship doesn’t come in stares across tables. recklessness doesn’t come in a countdown to holidays scattered across busy schedules. warmth doesn’t, shouldn’t root itself in her.

not when early mornings of sunrises catches itself in the yawns of stepping outside inside a club. old faces trespassing into new, and the chest-heavy, soul-deep laughter mixes itself outside of a hongdae club he calls home. dislodged and out of place, he remembers one instance.

the narrowed in stares that come from faces he calls ‘friends’, fingers pin pointed with his own arm balancing on her shoulder, and the trail of smoke that reaches the early morning skies. his eyes rove over hers, a chuckle guised as an escape coming in something left unsaid. it’s breathy, airy. weightlessness puncturing the mask he wears.

“not friends, but deeper than friends you and i should be more like wine a bit darker. if you leave, i’ll have nothing we’re pretending to be comfortable, mixing friends when people ask when we’re gonna date i just laugh, look over to see your reaction i laugh because i’m embarrassed for nothing no, i laugh because it’s funny”

—

(a few weeks later, august 2019)

he knows he’s bound to come back.

and he does inside an empty room, all packaged up with nothing more than the same blue screen, dusty mic and the keys laid out. his fingers rest on his chin, pressing harder when his eyes cast over the words smudged in black ink and the echoes of the piano. 

catharsis doesn’t feel any better than when it started.

but he finishes it not knowing where it’s headed — had he ever known?

he’s never been the valiant force, nor one to wield together the pieces of bravado he wears. because when it comes to jiae, he’s only stripped down to the bare vulnerability that comes in soft curves of a meager grin and vacancy of laughter that tugs him wayward.

his voice taps against the baselines of the bass, and the steadiness of the kick drum of the beat. no punch of a hitting-heavy tone, nor the rapid-fire of words — he doesn’t take any of it with stride. instead, he keeps his voice talking, the rise and fall of his breath taking in the first words with nothing more than the exhaustion tethered to full-on rumination.

yet, he shakes his head and pauses the record. (too heavy and spoken, it’s a cesspool of things he’s never been.)

take two.

he’s never given more than he has, told himself he never would. yet, the words he harvests become nothing more than the gentle lullaby of his voice coddling each syllable of the second verse — the song was never meant for him, no. it’s notes and words were always poised on the line of her.

he tries again. this time, the drunken mumbles in the rough hash of april reformed into the sobering melodies of august. it’s the crumble in the misery of acceptance when he lays all walls down, lets himself revel in each and every word he wrote for her. 

because between each stolen glance, brews the culpability of his image juxtaposed onto hers. each year, a pass that brings a near decade of himself next to her digs deeper until he realizes — it’s too late to crawl out now.

“i don’t want to love you. i don’t want to kiss you.” 

he stops the recording. palm in cheek, he stares blankly at the screen. minutes, an hour. it goes in loop, the echoes of acceptance now unavoidable — he can’t face it dead-on without the underlines of a detonation.

(save. he doesn’t scrap it).

[noncanon-mcd-stories]

River Reaper Chapter 1

@ohbeetles asked for a garmau fic with requited love and, uh, yeah, looks like there’s a new AU on this blog. Introducing Flowerfell AU, and if you know what Flowerfell is, then you know what a rollercoaster of a ride this fic is gonna be. If you don’t, well, you’re about to find out. :)

Alternatively: This fic is inspired by Shy Siesta’s cover of Secret Garden 

(Next time you might wanna specify if you want fluff or angst)

tw for character death

Ru'aun had a mountain, cursed for generations. They say those who climbed it never returned. A thousand years ago, The Matron Irene had climbed it and since then, magic has laid heavily upon the soil, making the trees bloom eternally. 

Every year, someone was chosen to be casted into the mountain, and every year, the magic around the area grew, though not even the best Spellcasters could understand why. 

So when Aphmau woke up with her back hurting her and cheek and arms throbbing, she instantly knew what happened: she was thrown into Mount Ebbot for the magic to consume. With her hands still bound, she forced herself to stand and shuffle into the other room, where… A ghostly child was crying in the corner? 

“Are you ok?” She asked, making him jolt and look up at her in panic. “Hey, it’s ok! It’s just me…" 

"Another one?” He whispered, sounding tired, horrified and angry. “They just won’t stop will they? The others can barely survive down here as it is!” Blinking at the boy, her heart broke a little and she knelt down in front of him. “You’re… not scared of me?”

“How could I ever be afraid of a cutie like you?” she asked, smiling and tilted her head before holding out a hand. “I’m Aphmau, who are you?”

“I-I’m Malachi… you really are different from the others, aren’t you?” The woman looked at him, hand falling to her side once she realized he wasn’t going to shake it. “Some of the others, they try to attack everyone they see.”

“Some people aren’t very willing to be sacrificed,” she mumbled, head throbbing again. “I’m in Ebbot, right? The rumors about the Magic of the Mountain eating people, that’s false, right?”

The ghost looked hesitant before shrugging. “I’ve been down here for almost a thousand years and I don’t even know where everyone went. All I know is that if the Shadow Knights find you, they’ll take your soul and try to break the barrier with it. They need seven, but only have six, and it has to be a fresh sacrifice.”

————– 

She met a kind man, Corey, who was there one second, gone the next when she talked him through a fight he apparently had with his wife. It wasn’t until she had gotten into a fight with Malachi about grabbing a lost knife for protection that Aphmau realized that the boy was afraid and shaking so badly it was a miracle he didn’t phase from the physical plane.

After some prodding, he told her of Zoey, and how one day, there was a potions accident that resurrect him for only a short time. His second death (the first one having been from the fall) had been a major part of the caretaker slipping into insanity, and walking around unarmed was asking for death.

So after a few minutes, she tucked the dull blade into her belt and smiled kindly at the ghost. “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t plan on going anywhere just yet then, huh?”

————– 

Zoey was a blonde elf that had been the first sacrifice. The years of solitude, of having to watch the ruins for newcomers, it made her mad. Had she been lucid for even a second, she’d be horrified by how she was treating those who still resided in the ruins for some odd reason.

The two had only met because she and Malachi had gotten separated while she was buying food. When she had turned around, the elf was looking at her with wide eyes, her unfocused gaze on her telling the woman that she was seeing something else.

“Irene...?” the elf whispered, making Aphmau and the few people in the room take a fearful step back.

“N-No,” she stuttered out. “I’m Aphmau.” the elf frowned before letting out a knowing noise.

“The newest sacrifice. You’re very welcome to stay with me.” the elf’s deranged grin had Aph shying back. The elf turned around and walked away, but even after she left their sights, the small market area was still dead silent. Feeling too many eyes on her, Aphmau turned around and ran outside of the room, not watching where she was running and ended up going straight through Malachi-

-death, burning, screams of everyone she ever loved filled the air as blood red eyes smirked down at her, a familiar staff in hand-

“-mau!” Blinking, she shook her head and saw Malachi floating in front of her with a worried look on his face. “Oh, Aphmau, thank the matron you’re alright! I was so worried when you touched me; not many people can snap out of their Nightmare like that.”

“Their nightmare…?” she whispered, voice unable to grow any louder.

“Nightmare, y’know, like your worst fear? I-it’s my magic, the reason why I was given to the mountain. No one could touch me, so they decided I would be the best option…” Something was squeezing her heart painfully, and she felt something resolve in her.

“Then they were idiots, all of them,” she said firmly. “Magic or not, dead or not, you are an amazing kid, and they were blind not to see it.” the boy blushed and turned away, no where near fast enough to hide his tears.

————– 

Aphmau stared at the pie in front of her, unsure if she should eat it or not. Around her neck, the pendant Malachi possessed glowed dimly, a thin warmth over her skin, reassuring her that he was still there. Apparently Zoey didn’t like seeing him and forbade him from entering the house, she they had came up with the plan of him possessing the small heart shaped ruby necklace she had found in her pocket.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Zoey asked, having gotten something different to eat, claiming to not feel all that well enough to stomach pie. Aphmau hesitated before taking a small bite, the flavors clashing in such a way it… almost tasted wrong. Forcing herself to swallow, she gave the elf a grimacing smile.

“What’s, ah, in this?” she asked, poking a bit at the food inside.

“Oh, to get everything tasting right, I use a fire res potion!” she said this with a smile, but when Aphmau tried to smile back, the world blurred a little and her ears rang. The pendant grew brighter, flashing urgently. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt as if it was closing and as her head rolled back against the chair, the elf suddenly let out a deranged giggle. “Oh, silly me, I completely forgot! Fire res potions are poisonous to humans, hehe~!”

————–

Aphmau jolted awake with the smell of golden flowers invading her nose. Slowly sitting up, she barely had a chance to realize what happened when Malachi flew in front of her, looking at her in awe… and worry. “What was that…?” she whispered, and the ghost looked at her sadly.

“You’re a magic user.” he answered. “This is bad. The mountain’s magic, it’s barrier, it doesn’t react well to outsiders already having magic.”

Aphmau blinked. “I can’t be the first one to have had this happen.” At the boy’s nod, her stomach twisted into a knot. “What happened to the others?”

“You have a flower, just above your ear,” At the boy’s words, she reached up and felt one of the golden flowers she had landed on mixed in her hair. When she went to pull it out, however, it felt as if someone was tugging at her skin, horror welding up in her a second later. "Do you need help getting it out?"

"No!" She yelled, scrambling back. "Malachi, it-it's attached! To my skull! Is this what happened to the others? Did they just randomly started having flowers grow on them?!"

"N-no," the boys voice shook and her eyes snapped open, horrified even more at his scared expression. "They just got sick. But your magic, with how it rewinds time… I think this is it's way of fighting back."

————–

Aphmau avoided eating the poisoned food Zoey had, instead claiming to have a stomach ache and went to her borrowed room to lay down. She hadn't planned on actually falling asleep, but the warmth that the blankets gave settled a chill she hadn't realized she had and sent her fast into sleep.

She woke up in the bed of flowers and Malachi crying above her. 

Another flower had sprouted, slightly bigger and a few inches away from the first one.

————–

She woke up on the flower bed seven more times due to Zoey, six due to the others in the ruins and three times due to her own clumsiness. By round 20, she had accidentally lashed out at one of the inhabitants and watched in an awed horror as they crumbled to dust.

She gained a flower when she purposefully rewound time.

"Why did he crumble to dust?" She asked as her and Malachi wandered down the hall.

"Some of the people here are almost a thousand years old. The mountain's magic makes it to where once you live here, you don't age, but your body gets weaker as if you do. Poor guy was probably one of the first ones down here."

His words did nothing to settle her guilt as she pointedly kept her eyes away from the heckler.

Malachi didn't say anything as she purposefully avoided the mini-market for those next four goes.

————–

Finally, with 28 flowers beside her right ear and cheek, Aphmau found herself in front of a giant red and black door, a familiar rune painted on it.

"Please," she said to the angry elf. "Please let me leave!"

"You don't know anything about what's outside these doors! I refuse to let another person go walking to their death!" She snarled, and there was a surge of magic as fire was summoned into her hands. "If you want to get through, you'll have to kill me!"

No. Aphmau thought instantly, not realizing she had said it aloud until the elf faltered. "No more death." She continued, still in a cold tone that warmed as she spoke again. "No more death. Sometimes, you'll find that kindness is enough." 

The elf shook, a sad look in her eyes. "You'll be killed," she whispered.

"Maybe so, but it's happened before," she motioned to the flowers with a rueful grin. "I'm not afraid of dying. Please, let me see what's beyond the doors."

The elf hesitated before her eyes hardened. "No, I cannot allow you to leave. Not with the Shadow Knights roaming freely."

Shadow Knights? Aphmau thought, but was quickly forced to forget it as she yelled and jumped to the side, barely avoiding fire to her face. This continued, the woman barely dodging as the elf, tears slowly starting to stream down her face, continued to throw fireball after fireball.

"Why won't you fight back?!" The blonde sobbed as the woman fell to the ground to avoid another shot to the face, and when she looked up, the elf was on her knees, crying into her hands. "Why don't you fight…?"

"Because," she said, her voice low and hoarse. "I was raised to always be kind and to know when to pick your fights. I will never fight you, Zoey. I think that, perhaps those who are loneliest in the world are the kindest… what happened? What made you so mad?"

"I lost my sons," she whispered. "My children, my little Levin and Malachi. I couldn't save them… but I can save you."

"Loneliness takes a lot out of someone. I know how it feels, thinking there's no one in the world who hears or sees you and your suffering. But there is; there always is. I can't promise you that I will always be safe, but I will do my best. You can't keep me here forever Zoey."

"I suppose the ruins are quite small once you get used to them," the elf half laughed, looking up and slowly wiping the tears off her face. "If you do choose to leave… I have one request."

"Of course," she nodded, ready to hear it.

"Please, never return."

Well wasn't that a punch to the gut? Granted, she didn't know Zoey or the people here that well, the fact that she was even asked it… swallowing, the human slowly nodded. "I-I see… I suppose, then… this is goodbye."

"Farewell, and beware of the king called Zvhal. He will not hesitate to kill you if it means being free from his Shadow Knight bond."

Taking in the blonde's words, they tentatively hugged one another before the human turned towards the doors and slowly stepped out into a bone chilling blizzard.

[agentverbivore]

Hello, my friend! For your ficlet giveaway, how about FS + THE CROWN :D (any scene/moment you want!) Thanks for doing this!

@whatlighttasteslike​ *heavy sigh* do I thank you or scold you for enabling me? XP I had so much fun writing this - but now it’s gonna end up being a full (if shortish) fic at some point when I finish my vastly delayed FSSV present. {Much of this scene includes dialogue from the first episode.}Anniversary Ficlet 3/8.Rated G. FitzSimmons. “The Crown” (Queen Elizabeth & Prince Philip) AU.

The room’s familiar gilding served as no distraction for Jemma as she paced the elaborate carpet that adorned the floor. Her dress swished around her legs, and she resisted the urge to curl her fingers into the cream-colored fabric. That would not be ladylike. Voices droned on in the room across the hall, and although she knew that it would be seen as very improper for her to be present or even eavesdrop, the latter was precisely what she was trying to do. It just didn’t seem fair for her to be excluded from such an important occasion; but, that’s just how things were done, and Crown Princess Jemma Simmons was excellent at following royal protocol. She’d been an expert ever since she was a child, and she wasn’t going to stop now. Still, she paced back and forth in front of the drawing room door, managing to catch a handful of words:

“…From henceforth, he will be known as Lieutenant Leopold James Fitz, Royal Navy. Leopold Fitz, I grant you and the heirs, male of your body, lawfully begotten, the dignities of Baron Greenwich, Earl of Meioneth and Duke of Edinburgh, and Knight Companion of our Most Noble Order of the Garter.”

Reserved applause sounded through the hallway, and Jemma realized that she was grinning in an entirely unseemly way, but she couldn’t convince herself to stop. When she accidentally caught the eye of a nearby butler, she quickly tried to school her face into an expression of polite contentment, and gave him a nod. Then she turned on her heel and paced back to the other side of the room, wholly impatient for the men’s congratulating to finish so that she could finally, finally see her fiancé.

Within a few minutes, as she stared pensively out the window onto the grounds of Buckingham Palace, she heard sharp footsteps cross the hall and become muffled as the person entered the drawing room. A bright smile spread across her face, and she twisted quickly around to see that the new person was, in fact, her Fitz. He looked so dapper in his dress uniform, ever-unruly curls barely tamed and blue eyes shining as they met hers, that she sucked in a small breath of pleased surprise. Even though she’d seen him like this before, everything in the next twenty-four hours was guaranteed to be heightened, routines and familiar dress becoming all the more exciting for the life that it was designed to usher in.

The movement of the other dignitaries, guards, and servants now passing through the hall caught Jemma’s eye, and her smile faltered. For although Fitz’s touch was not precisely foreign to her, now was not the time for her to run up and throw her arms about his neck as she had been about to do.

“Well?” she said quietly, slipping around the large table with an enormous vase of decorative flowers that separated them. “They got through it?”

Fitz chuckled, slipping one finger into his collar and tugging slightly. “Yeah. I got through it, which is probably more impressive.”

“Well done, you,” she murmured, taking another step forward. Someone in the hall made a distinct huff, and they both turned, although the noise-maker had disappeared by the time they did. Jemma sighed. “I think they’d have preferred a nice, pink-faced marquis with a grouse moor in the Welsh borders.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t’ve preferred one of those?” Fitz said, clearly teasing but a hint of insecurity hovering beneath his words. “Someone with a grand title, instead of a homeless Scot with a disreputable family?”

“No,” Jemma answered right away, her gaze clear as she met his. Tension leeched out of his shoulders, and the look he gave her was one of adoration that she knew quite well by now. A smile teased at the corners of her mouth. “That would have been much too… antiseptic.”

“You like antiseptic, if I remember correctly,” he said, and she laughed, raising one hand to hide her mouth.

“So do you,” she retorted, folding her hands primly in front of her skirts as she glimpsed someone’s disapproving glance from the hall. “Otherwise you’d never come into my lab again.”

“If you didn’t leave cat livers lying about,” Fitz groused, and she giggled again, “then it wouldn’t be as much of a problem.”

“The livers keep things interesting.”

“You do that well enough on your own.” Another fond smile spread across his face as he finished talking, and she felt fit to bursting with her own happiness.

With the way Fitz was looking at her, she knew that he was likely to throw propriety to the wind at any second. Oh, on any other day she would love for him to just sweep her off her feet; but there was too much riding on the next couple of days. After all, she’d had to spend months pressing her case for their marriage, had needed to convince everyone from Buckingham to sundry that Fitz was worthy of the titles that had just been bestowed upon him. With luck, it would be very many more years yet before she became queen and he became the queen’s consort, but marrying the crown princess was still not something permitted to just anyone in the kingdom. Jemma, however, having found the source of her future happiness in her best friend in the world, had refused to let anything in the world keep them from being together. The trade-off was that for the next little while, they had to behave as good as gold in order to convince the rest of the world – and the extended royal family – that the match had not been a complete mistake.

After a few seconds, he half-glanced behind him and then stepped towards her. Reluctant to seem like she was rejecting him and yet also wary of drawing the attention of the judgmental people around them, Jemma tensed, prepared to step hastily back if need be. But all Fitz did was lay his hand on the round table, reaching towards her, and she realized he’d just been angling them so that the flowers hid their hands from any outside viewers. Giving him an admiring smile, Jemma slid her hand along the gray and white marble until it met his, their fingers slipping gently over each others’, skin barely ghosting against skin lest they need to separate again soon, all too soon. It had been well over a week since they’d been alone, and truth be told it was driving Jemma mad. If they could even just dance together, chests pressed so close they could nearly feel each others’ heartbeats, at this second, that would be enough for her.

Her eyes caught a smudge of grease on the outer side of his palm, and she let out a sharp hiss of annoyance. “Oh, Fitz! Please don’t tell me you were mucking about in the garage again, not now. You know you can’t do work like that until things have calmed down. The queen thinks it looks common.”

At least he had the grace to look sheepish. “The engine just needed a quick fix,” he explained, bright blue eyes widening imploringly. “It only took a second, and I was really careful that no one saw. Other than the drivers. And my butler.” She raised an eyebrow, and he grimaced. “Yeah, I know. I just – I like helping. I’m good at that, you know, that’s what I do out on tour. It makes me feel useful.”

“And normally, I love that about you,” she murmured, smoothing her palm up so that it rested firmly over his hand. His mouth twitched up at the corner, half in surprise and half in affection. Sometimes, she had the impression that he didn’t quite believe how in love with him she truly was. “But you have to give it up for now. For a few weeks. Until things have settled.”

Fitz sighed, giving his head a chastened nod. “I do miss working when I’m not. But,” he continued, turning her hand over and grasping it tightly with his, “like a great many other things, I’m going to give it all up for you.”

Jemma nearly found herself stepping forward, but the sound of more voices passing by in the hallway kept her in her place. Instead, she gave her fiancé a warm smile. “Well,” she said, tilting her head mischievously, “you still have twenty-four hours to change your mind.” Glancing down at the slim-banded watch on her wrist, she let out a small hum. “Closer to twenty-one hours, actually.”

“Do you really,” Fitz started quietly, taking another half-step forward and entwining their fingers completely, “think I would ever change my mind?”

They stood there in silence for a few moments, energy spinning between them along with all the words they knew had to go unsaid for just a little longer. Tomorrow night, at the end of far too many hours of pomp and circumstance, they would be able to leave propriety at the door and be together as they should. Without artifice, without costume, without company – other than each other. To say that Jemma had been dreaming about that moment for months was something of an understatement.

“No,” he said at last, breaking the quiet spell that had woven between them, “much too late for that.” With a laugh, he gestured back at the room across the hall, which seemed to have finally nearly emptied. “I just signed myself away and everything.”

Watching as a last medalled dignitary exited the room and closed the door, Jemma’s smile thinned. “Or won the greatest prize in the kingdom.”

Fitz made a small noise of dissatisfaction, separating their hands and turning briefly around to follow her gaze. “I dunno. I mean, that’s what they’re all saying, but I’m not so sure.”

A brief laugh sounded from her throat, and she propped one hand on her hip. “Oh? You’re not, are you?”

“Nah,” he said, turning back to meet her gaze, his own expression a mix of amusement and adoration. “Greatest gift on the planet, maybe. Or in the galaxy.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she murmured, instinctively reaching up to tuck a nonexistent lock of stray hair behind one ear. He liked making these grandiose statements that, paradoxically, made her feel uncharacteristically small. Yet she still avidly tried to memorize each one.

After watching her for a few seconds, he glanced around again, noting – as she did – that the rest of the royal dignitaries and signatories and whatsatories had all finally disappeared down the hall, and they were left only with the guard at the entrance to the room.

“Watch out,” Fitz said in a low voice, and before Jemma could register his movement, he was cupping her jaw with both hands and kissing her as if it were the first time all over again.

A small huff of surprise sounded from her throat as their lips met, and although she knew now was a bad time, knew that anyone could walk in at any moment, she didn’t step away. Instead, she wrapped one hand around his wrist and rested the other on his arm, knowing she shouldn’t cling but clinging anyway. Fitz’s lips were warm and gentle and still passionate, pressing in over and over again until she was breathless. But with time being so short, she chose his mouth over air, heart skipping a beat when he broke away to brush their noses together and then capture her lips again.

Oh, damn propriety and damn reputation, Jemma thought, leaning further into her fiancé’s embrace. She and Fitz would be married tomorrow; they were allowed to be blissfully, unreservedly happy, and to forget what anyone else thought.

The full fic is now being posted on AO3!