#how can i have hope when the moment i decide to pluck a silver of it out of my core i read something that in a better world would not even-

[chemicalbrew]

achievement get (for the billionth time): take one look at an assignment and get severely overwhelmed AND discouraged for the rest of the day and do nothing

[sentientgolfball]

Devotion

Part 1/3 of how Rain and Dew got together and perhaps also their first time

Read here or on Ao3

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Before Dew could become fire he had to make sure the new water ghoul would fit the needs of the Ghost Project.

Behind heavy wooden doors decorated with golden sigils stands four beings dressed in uniform. They have been working all evening for the ritual to come. When the full moon is at its highest point, a ghoul will be summoned. Dew is not entirely sure he is ready for it. He has only been Topside for a little over a year yet once that water ghoul pops out of the circle, he will be a mentor. He swallows thickly, the mask and the cloud of incense making it hard to breathe. He cannot be getting nervous now, this is his idea after all. 

He is the one who went to Sister Imperator proudly claiming he will be the fire ghoul they need. He is the one who twisted the Clergy's arm until they agreed to do the elemental transition, refusing to heed the warning of Delta. He is the one who agreed to wait, just long enough to make sure the new water ghoul is a good fit before he is burned down to his very core to be rebirthed. At the time it seemed like a great deal, he would get to become fire and thus be closer to the Morning Star and all he had to do was make sure the new water ghoul could pluck a few strings. Now that he is staring at the summoning circle though, he is starting to realize he may have bitten off more than he can chew. 

He shifts on his feet, the tip of his finned tail twitching between his legs. He vaguely knows about summonings, he was present for Mountain’s after all, but this one feels different. It somehow feels more intimate, knowing whoever pops out of the Pits will be his replacement. Knowing that he alone is going to be responsible for deciding if they will fit the needs of the Ghost Project; if not the Clergy will proceed with a fire ghoul summoning. He is solely responsible for not just his fate, but the fate of someone he has not even met yet. It makes his stomach churn and he has to fight to keep his fins from flaring. 

He tries to focus on what is happening around him. Anything to take his mind away from how in a few short moments everything is going to change. He watches Omega and the Sibling of Devotion converse as they prepare the necessary ingredients. Salt water, fresh water, rain water, and moon water all ready to be poured over the sigils painted on the floor. Knowing this is exactly how he was brought Topside is a weird feeling. He pictures Mist standing in his spot; was she just as nervous as he is now? Probably not. She was a Ministry ghoul long before she was involved with the Ghost Project. Who knows how many summonings she’s seen, how many water ghouls she’s helped adjust to a new world? Is she angry that he is here instead of her? He hopes not. If he messes this all up he will need her. He always needs her. 

His attention is stolen when the sound of muttering fills his webbed ears. Dew glances to his left to see Cardinal Copia quickly flipping through a gigantic book that looks like it is ready to turn to dust. He looks about as nervous as Dew feels, eyes wide while he scans over the ancient passages. He huffs as he watches him nearly drop the tome. He may not have known Terzo for long, but he still cannot believe this is the best the Clergy has for a replacement. 

Copia must feel Dew staring because he looks up from the book, catching his eyes behind the silver mask. Dew tenses when he closes the book and walks over to him. He offers Dew a weak smile. 

“It is exciting, no?” 

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” Dew says bluntly. 

“Ahah well yes but ehh it is still exciting.” He fidgets with his hands as he talks. 

“Didn’t you summon those air ghoulettes like last week?” 

“Si. Yes I did.” 

“Then why are you so?” Dew gestures to Copia. 

Copia sighs, “the rituals are easy to ehh mess up. I do not think I could live with myself if I accidentally destroyed an innocent being.” 

Dew scoffs at the word innocent, but he doesn’t say anything. There is a long moment of silence before Copia speaks again. 

“Are you not afraid?” 

“Afraid?” 

“Si. I am well aware of your ehh deal with Sister.” 

“Why would I be afraid? All I have to do is make sure the new guy is competent enough to hold a bass,” Dew says with more force than he intended. He does not understand why the Cardinal felt the need to approach him. The longer this conversation goes on the more Dew wants to yell at him to fuck off. He doesn’t need some sweaty human trying to be friendly when there is so much on his mind. 

“Apologies I ehh I suppose you are right. Your task is much easier than mine.” Copia offers him a lopsided smile. 

Dew glares at him through the mask. Easier? What a joke. All he has to do is provide a little blood and maybe say a few words. Dew has to do everything else. Of course he’s afraid. Who cares if the ritual is easy to screw up, it’s even easier to ruin a person. A faulty ritual can be blamed on a number of factors, but a person? Dew would be the only one to blame. Why did he think he was cut out for this? He should not have taken this deal. He should have demanded he be made into a fire ghoul so someone more experienced could be there for this new water ghoul. 

He cannot back out now though. Omega takes a deep breath, the scent of ozone filling the air when he exhales. The moon is at Her peak. It is time. Dew shuffles back into a corner, staying out of the way so the others can work. He is only here for formality. Copia, Omega, and the Devotion will be doing the actual rites. He is thankful really, he has no idea how much help he would be with the moon calling out to his own water. He can feel it responding to Her presence, but he cannot give in. He has to be present. He cracks his neck, eyes following the bustle around the room. 

The blinds that were previously drawn tight are thrown open, allowing the moonlight to stream in. Copia makes quick work of extinguishing the candles in the room so that it’s only Her light. The Devotion steps up to the circle of sigils. In one hand she has a leather bound book, in the other is one of the jars of water. As she begins to read the ancient passage Omega’s voice joins her. He repeats the same words only in Infernal instead of English. Dew’s ear twitches at the sound of the familiar language. It is different from what he spoke when he was in the Pits, yet close enough to make something in him twist. He wonders if this is some type of  quintessence dialect of Infernal or perhaps some ancient form of the language. 

As the Devotion finishes the passage she begins to pour the first jar of water. She starts at the first sigil, letting the contents spill counter clockwise to create a circle. She grabs the next jar from the stone altar, not pausing as she starts the next passage. Omega’s voice continues to drone along with her as sparks of quintessence begin to ripple over his body. She draws the first two lines of a pentagram with the next jar. The process repeats until every last drop of water has been used. Each time a new line is drawn Dew can feel something. It’s heavy. It’s strong. It sits in his gut like a stone at the bottom of a river. He doesn’t remember feeling like this when Mountain was summoned. 

When the last jar is emptied Copia approaches the circle of water. Omega picks up the dagger that had been sitting on the altar. He holds it in both hands, giving it his infernal blessing before handing it over. Like a mirror of who he was moments ago, Copia takes it from him with steady hands. He removes the glove on his left hand. There’s already a cut on his palm, just barely healed over. He brings the dagger to his palm, the edge placed right over the mark. He mutters a prayer in Italian before drawing the blade quickly across his skin. Dew’s nostrils flare when the metallic scent of blood hits his nose. His fangs throb. Every fiber of his being is telling him to go drink his fill, until there’s nothing left. He has to dig his claws into his arm just to keep his head clear. He will not be the reason this ritual fails. 

Copia turns his hand down, letting his blood drip into the center of the water pentagram. Omega and the Devotion finish the final passage as the ingredients combine. It's silent. The only sound is Dew’s breathing from under the mask. They wait. The tension is palpable as the seconds turn to minutes. Nobody moves. 

Copia opens his mouth to speak right as a fat raindrop lands in his eye. He gasps and brings his non-bloodied hand up to wipe it away. He looks to the ceiling as more begin to fall. Everyone in the room begins to relax as the drops pick up in intensity. Everyone except for Dew. Something is wrong. He can feel it. There’s something in the water. Something that’s not supposed to be there. As the shower turns into a storm his stomach churns. He rips his mask off and rushes over to the circle. 

“Close it!” He shouts over the pounding of raindrops. 

“Stay back. An active circle is volatile.” Omega holds an arm against his chest. 

Dew pushes on it, “You have to close it now!”

“Dewdrop why would we—“ Omega’s pupils dilate when it finally hits him. The taste of something else. 

He turns back towards the circle fully prepared to force it closed. But he’s too late. The drops begin to swirl, the shape of a body begins to form. Dew watches with a mix of awe and horror as the ghoul fully materializes. The moment it happens the ghoul falls to the floor. Unconscious. His dark hair is wet and clinging to his face. The bioluminescent stripes on his shoulders and tail are pulsing with each breath. An oceanic variant. His gills are flared, they flutter each time a raindrop hits them. Dew stares at him. He can’t look away. He doesn’t want to look away. He wants to reach out and touch him. He’s so enraptured he doesn’t notice the black smoke spiral that’s formed in the circle. 

He finally looks up when the sound of sizzling fills the air. A smoky hand has reached through, its claws digging into the wood of the floor. A head appears next. Most of its features are obscured by the thick cloud of smoke, but Dew can smell the fear. Omega scoops up the unconscious water ghoul as a torso starts to form. Dew is frozen in place. He doesn’t know what to do as this creature made of smoke takes form. He’s not even entirely sure it’s a ghoul. 

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as the thing finally pulls itself all the way through the closing circle. His gills flare when its featureless face turns towards him. It takes a step forward, hand extended. Dew doesn’t know if he should try to fight it or run from it. He does know he needs to protect that water ghoul though. He lets the thing approach him, slowly backing away from it. If it keeps its attention on him then maybe the Devotion will have a chance to come up with a way to banish it. 

It doesn’t work that way though. A sharp hiss cuts through the panicked silence. Dew whips his head towards the sound only to be met with a vicious sight. The water ghoul is awake and pissed. Omega is clutching his forearm. There’s blood staining the ghoul’s mouth, dripping down his chin. Copia tries to get to Omega’s side but the ghoul swipes at him when he moves. He snarls at both of them, showing off rows of serrated teeth. 

The commotion captures the attention of the smoke creature. It slowly turns towards the water ghoul and Dew panics. He tries to get its focus back on him; hissing and calling out to it but to no avail. He looks towards the Devotion only to see her back turned. She has candles lit, pouring oil over a small silver plate and muttering something quickly. Dew curses and snaps his head back towards the creature just in time to see one of the residual raindrops drip onto its outstretched hand. It stops moving when it hits, a strangled sound emanating from it accompanied by the sound of sizzling. Dew’s eyebrows raise. 

“You don’t like water do you?” 

He looks up at the ceiling to see it’s still slick from the initial summoning, occasional drops falling. He swallows before closing his eyes, letting his element come to life. He focuses on what energy remains, tapping into it to recreate the downpour. He can feel the pull. He’s never been more thankful for a full moon in his entire existence. He’s not sure he’d be able to do it without Her. He furrows his brow, extending his hand towards the ceiling. When he’s sure he has a hold on the water that remains he quickly pulls his hand down almost as if he was pulling on a rope. All at once a sheen of water splashes down making a loud splat when it hits the floor. 

The creature falls to the ground, the same strangled sound filling the air. It’s barely audible over the sound of crackling, like water poured on sun baked pavement. Dew opens his eyes to see steam rising from its body as it writhes on the ground. His brief moment of victory melts away when the strange sound begins to morph into something more familiar. A scream. Dew watches in horror as the smoke begins to dissipate, revealing the figure of a ghoul. 

He’s not a water ghoul, that’s for sure. At first Dew assumes he’s quintessence, the grayish purple hue of his skin standing out. But then he notices the patches of shimmering gold all over his body. A hybrid maybe? 

He takes a tentative step towards him. He’s still shaking, head tucked between his legs and forehead pressing against the floor. Dew doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but what else is new? He just knows he needs to do something. He crouches down next to his huddled up form. He hesitates for a moment before placing a hand on his shoulder. The ghoul stops shaking, slowly raising his head to look at him. Dew sucks in a breath. His eyes are black and white. He’s not a hybrid. He’s a multi ghoul. 

Is it over? His raspy voice whispers in Infernal. 

Dew doesn’t get the chance to respond because the next thing he knows Omega is yelling at him. 

“Dewdrop move!” 

He turns just in time to see the water ghoul struggle out of Omega’s hold. He launches himself at the multi ghoul, eyes wide and lips pulled back in a snarl. Dew is knocked back, landing hard on the floor. The water ghoul snaps his fangs dangerously close to the multi’s face. He’s only stopped by the firm hands pressing against his chest and shoulders. They struggle against each other for a moment before the multi makes a move. As quick as lightning, he traps one of the water ghoul’s arms against his side. He bridges his hips with a hiss, rolling them over in one smooth motion. He wraps his arms around the water ghoul, keeping him tight to his chest as he flails. 

The multi ghoul’s eyes begin to shift; black and white melts away replaced by yellow and orange. The scent of cinnamon and campfire fills the room as the multi’s fire sparks to life. Dew feels sick. He jumps up, fully prepared to join the fight. 

“Wait.” Omega comes to stand beside him. 

Dew looks between him and the tangle of ghoul on the floor, “What do you mean wait? They’re going to kill each other!” 

“No they are not. Look.” Omega motions with a flick of his tail, hand still tightly wrapped around his injured arm. 

Dew turns to look at them again, stomach still churning. The water ghoul is still struggling, but slowly he begins to settle until eventually he stops all together. He visibly relaxes, resigning himself to the hold of the multi ghoul. The multi doesn’t make a move to retaliate any of the aggression. He just sits there keeping him in the warmth of his fire. 

“What in the absolute fuck?” Dew narrows his eyes. 

“You learn not to question the things that stop a scared ghoul.” Omega shrugs and takes a step forward. There’s a gleam of purple from the holes of his mask. He stares at the two new ghouls for a moment before a satisfied hum rumbles through his chest. 

“Alright Cardinal Copia. They are your responsibility now.” 

“Are you…are you positive?” He looks pale and his hands have a slight shake to them. 

“Quite.” 

He swallows, “Very well then…Dewdrop would you mind ehh…?” 

Dew jumps a little when his name is called. With all the excitement he completely forgot he actually has to do something now. He shuffles over to the ghouls on the floor, staring down awkwardly at them. He offers the water ghoul a lopsided smile before sticking his hand out. The water ghoul sniffs it before taking it. Dew hoists him to his feet. He’s taller than him, more broad. His eyes never leave Dew. He looks at him with an intensity that makes him feel like he’s going to be eaten alive. But there’s also something else in his gaze, something Dew can’t quite place over the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Curiosity maybe? He’s not sure. He tries to ignore it, he has to at least pretend he can handle his new task. He can’t freak out just because he’s being stared at. 

Dew keeps his eyes trained on Copia as he tentatively approaches. The water ghoul doesn’t look away from Dew until Copia is right in front of him. He looks at the Cardinal with a blank expression, waiting to see what he does next. Dew just hopes whatever it is it doesn't involve more fang. 

Copia clears his throat, “You gave us quite the scare there pesciolino.” 

The water ghoul blinks at him. 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Ehh heh right…well…I would like to be the one to formally introduce you to the Ministry. You will be joining us in the Ghost Project. Helping spread the Old One’s message, si.” 

Silence. 

Copia shifts, wringing his hands, “Si okay how about a name? A new name for your new life? You caused a rather big storm so…” 

Dew holds his breath. His naming. Sure, he saw Mountain receive his name, but that doesn’t change the fact that this moment carries so much weight. This is a name that will echo through every hall in the Ministry, through every branch of the Church, to every corner of the globe. The Cardinal will offer him the name and he can choose to accept it or not. If not, he will receive a placeholder title until he finds the perfect thing that fits. Names hold power, after all. Dew still remembers how it felt to receive his. How everything just clicked into place when Terzo addressed him. He glances at the water ghoul from the corner of his eye. 

“…we will call you Rain.” 

Something in his gaze shifts when Copia speaks the name. It’s almost imperceptible the way his eyes soften, but Dew notices. He can’t help the little smile that spreads across his face. Rain. Rain. Dew likes it. Rain is unpredictable, it can be a torrential downpour or a soft shower. It’s fitting for the ghoul that lashed out at everything that moved only to be stopped by a hug. A rather violent, unorthodox hug but still. 

“Welcome Topside Rain.” Dew finally turns to look at him. 

“What about me? What are you going to do with me?” The multi ghoul chimes in. He’s still sitting on the floor, propped up on his hands. 

There’s a beat of silence as everyone turns their attention towards him. It’s a unique situation, summoning multiple ghouls at the same time. Though the Cardinal seems to have a talent for it considering he somehow managed to get two air ghoulettes out of one circle. But that was different. Two of the same element can be useful. It’s not exactly difficult to get a second set of keys or find a job around the Ministry if one doesn’t make the cut. A multi ghoul though? It’s unheard of. The only other multi ghouls that exist within the Ministry are the Special and Cowbell. That Chimera is a freak of nature even by ghoul standards. Hiding in the walls, only coming out to roam the halls in the dead of night or when the Clergy needs its assistance. Cowbell is just an earth ghoul for all intents and purposes. He himself did not even realize he was a multi ghoul until he came Topside. 

There is no procedure for multi ghouls. There is no standard. They are rare and unpredictable. 

“I am fully prepared to do a banishment ritual,” the Devotion breaks the silence. 

The multi ghoul’s eyes go wide and he tenses. Dew holds his breath. That decision is up to Copia. He alone can decide whether or not to keep him Topside or throw him back like a fish that is too small. Dew has no reason to be concerned for this stranger, but the Pit is not exactly a kind place. Maybe he did have a good life Down Below, but considering he risked destroying himself to claw through a summoning circle Dew is confident in assuming it was not. 

Thankfully, Copia looks just as disturbed as the multi ghoul at the suggestion. He walks over to him and holds out his hand. The multi hesitates for a moment before taking it. Copia helps him to his feet. Dew stares a little dumbfounded at his size. He’s taller than Aether. Probably close to Mountain’s height when he’s glamoured. Suddenly he does not feel so small standing next to Rain. 

Even when the multi is stable on his feet, Copia does not drop his hand. He looks up at him, a gentle smile on his face. He clasps his other hand overtop the multi’s. 

“We are not going to just get rid of you. If you made it through then you are meant to be here. We will find a place for, si. I can promise you that,” Copia speaks earnestly. 

The multi ghoul returns his smile, relief flooding his features. 

“What do you say? Will you join us…Shadow?” 

He freezes and purses his lips, “Shadow?” 

“Si, a new name for—“ 

“Yeah yeah new name for my new life I heard that part, but I am nobody’s shadow.” 

Dew has to bite his tongue to not laugh at the look of dread on Copia’s face. Rain raises an eyebrow at him. Omega nudges him when he walks past him. 

“Don’t worry Cardinal Copia, this was bound to happen with the amount of ghouls you have been summoning. Not every name can be a winner.” Omega approaches the two. 

“Since you rejected your summoning name you will be given a placeholder until you decide on something for yourself.” 

He turns to look at Omega. 

“You will be known by your element. You are Multi.” 

“And I get to pick my own name?” He asks. 

“Correct. This is just a formality.” Omega confirms. 

He shrugs, “Alright I can live with that.” 

“Welcome Topside Multi.” Omega nods at him. 

With that the two new summons are given their ceremonial robes, a simple garment made of black silk, and the remains of the ritual are cleaned. Four becomes one as each group splits to take care of what comes next. Copia and Multi leave to visit with the Clergy. They need to be informed of the additional ghoul so they can figure out where he fits in. Omega leaves for the infirmary to get his arm patched up. As powerful as quintessence ghouls are, even they can’t fix themselves. The Devotion stays behind to oversee the cleaning. Dew and Rain make their way to the Papal ghoul den. 

Dew speaks the entire time, the need to fill the silence evident with the way he points out every little statue or stained glass window they pass. At this point he has no idea what he is saying, but he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He glances at Rain occasionally, trying to gauge his reaction to the world around him. His expression remains neutral and Dew takes it as a win, at least he didn’t seem unhappy or scared. 

When they get back to the den it is empty, or at the very least no one is in the common room. Dew can smell one of the air ghoulettes nearby, the citrus and honey tells him it’s the shorter one. Cumulus he thinks is her name. He leads Rain into the hallway, turning down the right side. They walk past Aether’s door, stopping in front of the next one. Dew turns the knob and motions for Rain to follow him inside. 

The room is furnished but devoid of any personality. There is a queen sized bed, desk, nightstand, and vanity dresser. This is the first time Dew has been in here since he cleaned everything out. This used to be his room. It is one of the only rooms in the ghoul den that has a bathtub designed for soaking. The other one is in Mountain’s room and he couldn’t exactly give his up, he doesn’t fit into regular tubs. When the decision to make Dew fire was finalized he had to move out so the new water ghoul would have the ability to soak without having to trek to the bathing pools. It feels weird giving his old space to a stranger, but he can’t complain. Soon enough he will have no use for hiding underwater. 

“So…this is your room. I know it looks super boring right now, but once you start to find things you like you can do whatever you want to it.” Dew floats around the space. 

Rain sits on the edge of the bed, a noise leaving his throat when he feels the plush mattress. 

“Oh yeah, the beds are so nice. Beats sleeping on moss by a long shot. But if you think that’s cool you should check out the—“ 

“You can leave now.” 

Dew snaps his mouth shut when Rain’s deep voice fills his ears. There is a beat of silence as Dew processes the words. 

“What?” 

“You can leave.” 

Dew blinks. He wants him to leave. It’s barely been an hour of Rain being Topside and he already wants Dew to leave. Has he seriously fucked it up already? That has to be a record even for him. If Rain does not even want him around to settle in, then how is he supposed to figure out if he’s what the Ghost Project needs? He swallows thickly, mind racing with what he should do, with what Mist would do. The way Rain’s dark eyes look at him though tells him he should just listen. 

“Uh yeah…well if you need anything I’m uh the door on the right.” Dew just nods and then walks out, closing the door behind him. 

He stands outside of Rain’s room for a moment, letting what just happened wash over him. He sighs and walks to the common room. When he turns the corner he sees Mountain and Aether sitting on the couch. He forces a small smile when they notice him enter. 

“So how’d it go?” Aether asks, scooting over and patting the space between him and Mountain. Dew can tell he’s tense just by the tone of his voice. 

“You patched up Omega didn’t you?” Dew asks as he walks over and settles between the two bigger ghouls. 

“Not like anyone else could,” Aether sighs, “Is he really that aggressive?” 

“No I mean I hope not. He wasn’t as bad as the air ghoulettes, but well you saw Omega’s arm.” 

“Where is he now?” Mountain asks, taking a sip from a steaming mug. 

“He’s just…in his room. Hanging out I guess?” Dew shifts to slump against him. 

“You guess?” Aether raises an eyebrow. 

Dew groans, rubbing his hand over his face, “I dunno he kicked me out the moment he could!” 

The two bigger ghouls look at each other. They stay silent, letting Dew continue. 

“What did I do wrong? I mean his first words Topside were telling me to fuck off.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong Dewbug,” Mountain assures him. 

“Yeah,” Aether runs a hand through Dew’s hair, “Summonings are rough and we have no idea what was happening to him before. He just needs to get used to everything. I mean Mountain didn’t even speak until we were halfway to our first show.” 

Mountain rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his mug. 

“So I should just what? Let him be alone?” Dew huffs. That doesn’t seem like something a good mentor is supposed to do. 

“Not necessarily,” Mountain hums, “but at least give him time to settle.” 

He sighs and closes his eyes as Aether’s fingers continue to rub against his scalp. They’re probably right, he just needs to let Rain come to him or anyone else for that matter. He can still recall his own summoning. He was always so on edge, didn’t trust a single person. He didn’t start to feel comfortable until Mist took him out to the lake and swam with him. He still thinks about what they talked about under the waves when he gets stressed. But Rain isn’t him. Maybe he does just need to be left alone and he’ll sort himself out? The thought alone makes something in Dew twists, but he shoves it down. 

“What’s his name?” Mountain eventually asks. 

“Rain,” Dew says, eyes still closed. 

Mountain doesn’t get the chance to respond before the doors of the den swing open, amber and spice filling the air. Dew can feel Aether shift around to look at the sudden intrusion. Mountain wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer with a growl in his throat. 

“And that’s Multi,” Dew supplies, completely unfazed. 

“A pleasure.” He grins at the three ghouls on the couch. 

“Who are you?” Aether rumbles. 

“That little sprite there already answered that question.” He points at Dew. 

Aether and Mountain both turn their attention towards Dew for answers. He shrugs. 

“Copia has a knack for double catches.” 

“He’s new too?” Mountain glances back up at him. 

“Yes. He is.” Another voice rings out. 

Cirrus enters the den, stopping just next to Multi. 

“I cannot believe you let a new summon wander around in the middle of the night by himself,” she snaps. 

Dew flinches, a sudden pang of guilt flaring. 

“Sorry…” he mumbles. He feels like he should apologize. He was the only one of them who was present at the summonings. He just assumed Copia would take things over but it appears he was wrong. 

Cirrus just shakes her head before making her way through the common room and turning down the left side of the hallway.

“You know I think I like her.” Multi’s eyes track her as she leaves. 

The three ghouls stay silent. Dew thinks she’s intense, though he supposes that’s all she knows how to be. He doesn’t know much about her or Cumulus, but he does know that Cirrus used to be the leader of her flock. Up until a week ago she was responsible for the lives and safety of who knows how many ghouls and now she gets a memory foam mattress. He tries not to take it to heart when she snaps, just like Aether told him, but some days it feels personal. Maybe he has a talent for new summons hating him? 

Mountain sighs and nuzzles his face into the top of Dew’s head, “It’s late. I’m going to turn in. Do you want me to show you to your room Multi?” 

He shakes his head and plops down on the loveseat, “Nah. Think I’ll hang out here.” 

“I’m gonna head out too,” Aether kisses Dew’s forehead, “Omega wants me to work the early shift tomorrow.” 

Dew feels a stab of disappointment as both ghouls mumble their goodnights to him. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with Multi, it's just that he wants the comfort that only those two can provide. It has been a very long and exhausting day and he wants his packmates. Though Multi is his pack now he supposes. But he doesn’t know Multi. Not like how he knows Aether and Mountain. Sure he could follow one of them back to their nest, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He’s too wired from everything that has happened. He would just be alone, replaying the last few hours over and over as the other slept soundly. So he stays put, stretched out on the couch while Multi stares at him. 

“I never thanked you.” Multi is the first to break the silence. 

“Thanked me?” Dew cracks his eyes open to look at him. 

“Yeah back in that room when I was all…” he gestures vaguely at his body, “you saved me.” 

This grabs Dew’s attention. He sits up, turning his body to face Multi. 

“I was trying to kill you. How in the fuck did I save you?” 

“Well I like to think it’s obvious what my strongest elements are.” 

He’s not wrong. His grayish purple skin and the splotches of gold scream quintessence and fire. But that’s where multi ghouls are different from hybrids. They have every element flowing through their veins, not just two. Sure there are imbalances, one or two or even three elements can be more present than others, but still, they are all in there to some capacity. 

“Uhhuh.” Dew nods. 

“Can’t feel my earth and water for shit. Never could, probably never will.” 

“And so you jumped into a summoning meant for a water ghoul?” Dew deadpans. 

“Had nothing better to do.” He shrugs, fang filled grin still on his face. 

“Oh so you’re stupid. That’s good to know.” 

“I like to think of it more as willing to take new opportunities,” he laughs, “but it did hurt like nothing else. Could feel myself falling apart, that is until you dumped all that water on me.” 

It’s silent for a moment as the revelation hangs in the air. Dew shifts in his seat. He’s never been good with praise or gratitude. It always makes him feel like he’s lying, like he somehow tricked whoever into believing he's a responsible and competent ghoul. 

“Well it’s good to know at least one new summon doesn’t hate me.” Dew tries to joke. 

“Who? Rain? Please, that little fishy was all by himself when The Light snatched him. Who knows how long it’s been since he's seen another ghoul?” 

All by himself. Somehow knowing that doesn’t make Dew feel any better. Actually, it sort of makes him feel worse. Rain was presumably left alone in the Pits and even now that he’s Topside he’s alone. Dew has half a mind to knock on his door, just to see if maybe he has changed his mind in the last hour. He doesn’t though. Rain was the one who asked to be left alone. Maybe he prefers it that way? It’s not uncommon for oceanic water ghouls to live by themselves. That would be just great if they happened to summon a loner for a band position. 

“So…how did things go with the Clergy?” Dew asks. He doesn’t want to think about possibilities anymore. 

“You’re looking at an official member of the Ghost Project…whatever that means.” 

“No shit they actually let you join? Just like that?” 

“What? Didn’t think those humans would like me?” 

“It took the Cardinal two days to convince them to let Cumulus actually in instead of just as backup. How the fuck did you manage that?” 

“They offered me the spot and I said yes.” He shrugs, twining his hands behind his head. 

Dew narrows his eyes. He may not know Multi well enough to see his tells, but scent is never wrong. He’s lying. Dew can smell the subtle shift in that amber and spice scent of his. It became muddled. Muted. Replaced with something bitter. But what part is he lying about? Is he not actually in the band? Did the Clergy not actually offer him anything? Dew can’t tell. He is curious though. 

“So…what are you gonna be doing then?” Dew asks. He’ll find a way to pull the right thread. 

“Guitar.”

Dew freezes. What the fuck does he mean guitar? Aether is already on rhythm and Dew is supposed to be lead. He’s supposed to be. That was the fucking deal. Lords Below he is quintessence and fire. He could be either. They wouldn’t get rid of Aether…would they? Multi must sense the shift in his demeanor because the corners of his mouth twitch up. 

“And backing vocals. And whatever else little Cardi needs. Imperator’s words, not mine.” 

Dew relaxes slightly, but he’s still tense. He may have only been here for a little over a year, but even he can tell the Clergy likes to play games. He was there when Terzo was ripped off stage after all. Forcibly removed from the position of Papa for reasons that still are not clear. He would not be surprised if Sister actually did give him a deal. One of the only times Special appears is when the Clergy needs it. Maybe Multi will be the new Special? Dew’s tail twitches at the thought. Dew suddenly does not feel like pulling anymore threads. 

The two sit in silence for a long time, occasionally breaking it with conversations of Dew’s favorite things he has discovered since being Topside. He tries to not let his mind run wild and he begins to find Multi an interesting person to talk to. It’s comfortable. It’s easy. But eventually everything catches up to Dew. His eyes are dry and he swears he can hear his bones creak when he moves. He slowly stands from the couch after the next lull in their chat. He stretches and looks towards Multi. 

“Think I’m gonna go sleep. You wanna be shown to your room now?” 

“Nah I’m fine out here.” 

Dew raises an eyebrow, “You sure?” 

“Positive.”

Dew can see the exhaustion in his eyes, but he doesn’t force him. Maybe he should, but his mind feels sluggish. 

“Well you can pick any room that’s empty.” Dew murmurs before turning and heading down the right side of the hallway. He doesn’t get far though. 

“Hey Dewdrop?” 

He stops, turning around to look at Multi. 

“For the record, this new summon doesn’t hate you.” 

Dew blinks and turns back around. He ducks his head so that his hair falls over his face to hide the smile that creeps onto his face. 

“Goodnight Multi,” he throws over his shoulder. 

He barely has the mind peel himself out of his uniform when he gets back to his room. He does not even bother with braiding his hair like he normally does. He will be annoyed in the morning when he has to brush out knots and tangles, but right now all he cares about is crawling under his blankets and burying his head under a pillow. Once he’s out of his clothes he does just that, forgoing pajamas. Not a single patch of skin is visible in the mess of his nest. The only thing that shows he’s even there is the vaguely Dewdrop shaped lump curled up in the middle of the bed. 

Despite his exhaustion, sleep does not come easy at first. He is almost hyper aware of the fact Rain is just on the other side of the wall. Talking with Multi nearly made him forget about his shortcomings with the new water ghoul, but now that he’s alone it’s all he can think about. He thinks about the possibility that Rain was a loner in the Pits. If that is true Dew is fucked to put it simply. There is no way a loner is going to fit the needs of the Ghost Project. Even if he ends up being a magical prodigy on bass, it completely ignores everything else that goes into it. He has to be constantly surrounded by other ghouls. Not even ghouls from his pack, but others that the Cardinal may interact with. He’s not just a band ghoul. He’s a ghoul that was summoned by a high ranking Clergy member. He has innate responsibility that goes beyond plucking a few strings and showing up to rehearsals. If he cannot perform the more social aspects there is no way the Clergy will let that fly. Dew will not be able to become fire. He hopes to any Lord that is listening that Rain is not a loner and he just does not like him. At least then he can get what he wants, who cares if he’s hated? 

Sleep eventually claims Dew as his thoughts turn silent. For the first time in a long time, he dreams of the Pits. He dreams of what used to be his home. He dreams of the shining lake he was chased out of when he was deemed a hindrance to his school. He sinks down, down, down below the waves, unable to reach the surface no matter how hard he kicks. Just as the light disappears though he blinks and he is in Aether and Ifrit’s arms sitting on the dock of the Ministry’s lake. Both of them are whispering in his ears, but he cannot focus on them. He can only focus on his reflection in the water. It is not him. It is a silhouette with red glowing eyes, staring back at him. He reaches out to touch it. It feels almost familiar. He needs to see what happens. The moment he does the dock disappears and he’s thrown right back into the cold, dark depths. 

He wakes up with a start, sitting up so fast the pillow over his head gets launched across his room. He blinks and shakes his head, brow furrowed as he looks around. He turns towards the window, early morning light filtering in through the blind before glancing at the clock on his nightstand. 

“Figures,” he grumbles to himself. 

Even when he is exhausted he cannot sleep past sunrise. He could try to roll over, burying himself back in the warmth of his blanket nest, but he knows he will not fall back asleep. Once he is up that is it, he cannot go back. He does not know why, maybe it is because he is a light sleeper who knows? All he knows is that it sucks. The only other people that get up this early are the Ministry fire ghouls, called awake by the sun Herself. He knows well enough that Ifrit would rather sit in bed and watch Zephyr sleep than do anything else. He would sooner cut off his own fins than hang out alone with Alpha, so he is used to spending mornings alone. 

He sighs deeply, running his hands over his face before rolling out of bed. The chill of the room is the only thing that reminds him he did not bother with pajamas last night. He digs around in his dresser, pulling out a pair of black sweatpants to head to the kitchen. The den is quiet as he walks through the halls, though he is not complaining. Sometimes it is nice to simply exist in a space without having to make yourself known.

 It is routine for him. He goes to the kitchen to grab a before breakfast snack to chew on in his room while he waits for everyone else to wake up. He could go down to the feast hall or figure out how the stove works, but why bother? He does not like to eat meals alone. He would much rather go hungry. The silence is nice at first, but the longer it stretches the more his skin starts to itch. So he grabs a bag of dried seaweed and turns right back around to curl up and scroll on his phone while he waits. He pauses when he sees Multi still sleeping on the loveseat. He looks uncomfortable. He is sweating and he reeks of fear. Part of him screams to go wake him up, but the part of him that is still half asleep wins. He makes a mental note to prod at him later and heads back to his room with his snack in hand.

When he gets to the hallway though, something makes him stop. It's faint, but he can hear commotion coming from Rain’s room. It does not sound just like he is waking up, it sounds like a struggle. He can hear the sound of his deep voice, though he cannot make out what he is saying. He stares at his door, chewing his lip. Mountain, Aether, and Multi’s voices all overlap in his head telling him the same thing.

 Leave him alone. He asked you to leave him alone. He wants to be alone. 

He should listen. He should just ignore it and walk right into his room. He makes it one step past Rain’s door before turning around and grabbing the handle. He is almost surprised when it pops right open. Thank the Lords Rain has yet to discover locks. The room is dark save for the dim light of the sunrise. At first, Rain is nowhere to be seen and Dew’s stomach flips, but he quickly notices the door to the bathroom is open. He walks over, flipping the light on when he steps through the threshold. 

Rain is on the ground next to the bathtub clawing at his gills. He glares up at Dew, but he can see the panic in Rain’s eyes. Even if the mask was not slipping, Dew can smell the sharp scent of fear in the air. He drops to his knees, coming up beside him. Once he is closer he can see just how dry the skin around his gills are. He can see dots of blood where the skin is cracked. The sight makes him feel sick. 

“Shit fuck okay hold on just hold on.” He reaches up to turn the faucet on. 

The moment the water sprays out Rain practically leaps forward. He crawls into the tub, sticking his head under the running water so that it covers his gills. Dew can see them flare and pulse as he sucks in air. How could he be so stupid? Rain is an oceanic water ghoul. He has never existed out of water before. Dew did not even think to explain that he needs to soak. It is second nature to him as a freshwater ghoul. A ghoul designed to live on both land and water. He let something so important slip his mind and now Rain’s gills might be damaged. He really has fucked up in record time. He swallows. He needs to fix this. He needs to get out of his head and actually be there for this ghoul. 

He sits up on his knees, reaching into the tub to plug the drain. Rain’s hand darts forward, grabbing his wrist. Neither of them move. He keeps his head down under the faucet and Dew just stares at him. He can feel his claws prickling against his skin. Dew cannot pull away even if he wants to lest he shreds his own wrist. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest, pushing down every instinct he has. After what feels like an eternity, Rain slowly lets go of Dew. He still does not look at him though. When he fully drops his hand, Dew plugs the drain. 

“Now you can soak,” Dew mumbles. 

At the sound of his voice, Rain turns his head. Dark blue peeks out from behind wet strands of inky black. His eyes search Dew’s face and that feeling from the summoning room returns. He still cannot place it, the look he gives him. It makes him feel like the rabbit locking eyes with the wolf moments before the chase begins. He is not confident he will survive if Rain decides to spring. But he will not run. If this is what it takes to become fire then he will do it. He will prove his devotion. 

When the water is high enough to lick against the gills on Rain’s abdomen, he turns his attention away from Dew with a noise of surprise. He leans back in the tub, resting against the cool porcelain with his knees to his chest. Dew does not think he has ever seen a ghoul so big look so small. They sit in silence, the only sound filling the room is running water. When it’s high enough Dew flips it off. He wants to talk to him but he has no idea what to say.  He picks at the grout in between the tiles as a million things race through his head. Should he apologize? For what? Leaving when he was asked to? He cannot exactly ask how his first night was, it is pretty obvious given they are in this situation to begin with. Even he is not stupid enough to ask about his life in the Pits. That is a story he has to tell on his own, if he ever tells it. 

He keeps tracing the lines of the tiles with his claws until something catches in the corner of his eye. The bag of dried seaweed. He completely forgot about it when he saw Rain’s condition. He flicks it with his tail, pushing it close enough to him that he can grab it. He can feel Rain’s eyes on him as he struggles to open it. 

“Stupid fucking,” he mutters as he tries to pull it open, “forget it.” 

He puts the corner of the bag into his mouth, tearing it open with his teeth. When he looks up again Rain is right at the edge of the tub peering at him with big eyes. Dew nearly jumps at the sudden proximity, Rain’s face about only a foot away from his. He can see his nose twitch as he scents the air. He looks between him and the bag before tentatively extending it to him. 

“Want some?” 

Rain mirrors him, looking between Dew and the bag a few times before hesitantly reaching forward. He takes a handful before pulling back, putting a bit more space between himself and Dew as if he would suddenly change his mind about sharing the food. He watches Dew stick some in his mouth before darting his tongue out to taste it. Dew has to fight back a smile when he sees his pupils dilate. Maybe he can coax him out of his self isolation with food? He’ll have to beg River and Lake to catch some fish for him. And then beg Mountain to cook it. He thinks it would be worth it just to see any expression on Rain’s face other than a snarl. He wants to know what he looks like when he smiles. 

The thought catches Dew off guard, makes him pause. Who cares if he ever smiles as long as he can hold a bass? That is all Dew needs right? That is all he thinks he needs, but sitting here staring at Rain without his hair covering his face as he tries Topside food for the first time something else blooms. He does want to see him smile. He wants to see him laugh. He wants to see him comfortable. He does not just want him to be his replacement, he wants Rain to be his friend. Suddenly he cannot live with the idea that Rain hated him the moment he stepped out of the circle. Unfortunately Dew has never been great when it comes to his emotions so he ignores it. He has too many things to worry about and one of them does not need to be if Rain likes him or not. 

He is pulled from his thoughts when a deep voice fills the silence, “Why did you help me?” 

“Huh?” Dew blinks. 

“Why did you come back here to help me? Why are you sharing your food with me?” 

How the hell is he supposed to answer that? 

“I…heard you struggling and I got concerned. What type of ghoul would I be if I let you die the first night you’re here?” He tries to keep it light, almost joking. 

“A smart one.” 

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not.” He pauses when he hears himself. Rain raises an eyebrow at him. 

“That’s not what…nevermind. The point is you’re Topside. You don’t have to fight to survive anymore. You have a pack now.” 

It’s subtle the way the corners of his eyes soften, but it is there. He still looks tense, but Dew does not expect him to magically adjust just because he was a decent person to him. As long as he does not try to claw or bite anyone anymore Dew will take it as a win. 

“Can I have more of those things?” Rain eventually mutters. 

“All yours.” Dew hands him the entire bag. Rain does not take it at first though. “Seriously, it's fine. The others should be getting up soon so that means breakfast.” 

With the affirmation, Rain takes the bag from him. They sit in silence while Rain eats, but for once Dew does not mind. It gives him a chance to think. He needs to find the thing that will actually help Rain. Mist did that for him. He can do it for Rain. Maybe he should take him to the lake. Although River and Lake are usually out there and something tells him throwing him out there with more random ghouls probably is not the best idea. Why is this so hard? He taps his claws against the tiles, trying to come up with literally anything. All the while the scent of cooked meat slowly filters in. Mountain must be up. Maybe he can help. 

Dew stands, stretching his back with a pop that makes Rain visibly cringe. He eyes Dew with that unfamiliar look, “You’re leaving?” 

This takes him by surprise. Clearly Rain does not like other ghouls, and now he is concerned where Dew goes? 

“Uhh yes? Was gonna go see what’s cooking.” 

They stare at each other for a moment. Dew flexes his fingers. He might as well take a chance, what’s the worst that could happen? 

He extends his hand, “You can come if you want.” 

“The other ghouls will be there too won’t they?” 

“Yeah. Well. It’s early still so it will probably just be Mountain for a bit.” 

Silence. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. No one is gonna make you.” 

Rain nods, pulling his knees back up to his chest. 

“I can…bring you a plate? If you want?” 

He nods again. 

Dew smiles a little, “I’ll be back.” 

He leaves Rain’s room, shutting the door behind him before heading to the kitchen. Multi is awake now, no longer on the loveseat. Instead he is sitting at the table watching Mountain who is staring down at the pan in front of him with his arms crossed, spatula in hand. 

“Hey little sprite,” Multi greets when he sees him. 

Mountain blinks, looking up from the stove when he hears him, “Morning Dewbug.” 

He hops up onto the counter, nuzzling against Mountain’s shoulder, “What’re you making?” 

“Sausage and potatoes.” He replies as he presses the spatula down against the meat, sizzling growing louder as he does. 

Dew hums, “Can you make me two plates?” 

Mountain cocks an eyebrow, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. 

“What? Am I supposed to let the new summon starve?” 

“Oh the little fishy let you back in?” Multi chimes in. 

“Yeah…something like that.” 

“Few more minutes and it’ll be done. I made extra so bring him as much as you want.” 

Dew stays sitting on the counter, legs idly swinging while he zones out. Mountain and Multi are talking, but he does not pay attention to their conversation. He is not really paying attention to anything, letting his stream of thought flow. He is only snapped back into reality when Mountain nudges him. He blinks and shakes his head, eyes flicking up to meet Mountain’s. 

“Foods ready.” 

Dew can see four plates dished out and sitting on the table over his shoulder. Multi is already digging into his. Dew smiles. 

“Thanks Mount.” He presses a kiss to his cheek and hops off the counter. 

He takes the plates from the table, wincing a little at the heat. He carries them back to Rain’s room, using his tail to open the door. He is surprised to see Rain out of the bathtub. He is sitting on the edge of his bed, hair still wet. He looks tense when the door first opens, but he minutely relaxes when he realizes it is Dew. 

“I know it’s not fish, but it’s meat. I know it’s weird but trust me it’s so fucking good.” Dew hands one of the plates off to Rain. 

Dew takes a seat at the desk, turning the chair around so he can face Rain. He hopes he will eat it. He remembers when he was first summoned he refused to eat anything besides the bag of raw shrimp he found in the bottom of the fridge. It took Mist weeks to get him to try something else, something that was not seafood. He watches Rain eye the sausage, poking at it with his claws before picking it up and sniffing it. He takes a bite and visibly grimaces. Dew is sure he will spit it out, but he just chews it slowly. 

“You don’t have to eat it. I can ask Mount to make you something else,” Dew assures him. 

Rain shakes his head, “No it’s…fine. I can eat it.” 

Almost as if to prove his point, he scoops up some of the potatoes and pops them into his mouth. Thankfully he does not seem to have as much of a visceral reaction to them as the sausage. Dew wants to say something, but he also does not want to push his luck. It is amazing Rain did not just kick him out once Dew turned on the tub for him, so he is not going to test his limits. As long as he does not get sick Dew is happy. He will ask Mountain to make something special for him when dinner rolls around. Maybe he will even ask him to make his favorite smoked salmon dish. He is sure that is something Rain will like. 

“What happens to me now?” Rain eventually asks as they both eat. 

“Uh well we have a week before you have to start rehearsal? I think? I didn’t really pay attention so in the meantime I guess you just…hang out?” Dew has the sudden realization that perhaps he needs to learn how to plan ahead. 

“Rehearsal?” Rain cocks an eyebrow. 

“Yeah I mean that’s why you were summoned. To play bass for the Ghost Project.” 

“I was summoned. To play human music. In a human band. Summoned from Hell itself to be in a band.” 

“Well when you put it like that it sounds crazy.” 

Rain blinks at him. 

“It’s really not so bad,” Dew shrugs, “I think it’s really fucking fun.” 

“You’re in it too?” 

“Yeah I…used to play the bass.” Dew can feel the fins on his arms twitch. Technically he is not wrong. If Rain is deemed worthy then he will have no reason to ever pick up a bass again. 

“Used to?” 

Dew nods, “Can’t do it anymore so they uh they summoned you. I’m here to help you get used to it.” 

It is that he doesn’t want to talk about his planned elemental transition, it is more so he does not want to burden the new summons. It is bad enough dealing with Mountain, Aether, Ifrit, and Zephyr, he does not need people he barely knows pitying and worrying about him too. If he just never mentions it then he will never know how they look when tears fill their eyes if something goes wrong. He knows he will be fine, but if his time with them is brief then he only wants to know them with smiles. 

Rain hums, “So those other ghouls. They’re in the band too?”

“Yeah. Everyone in the den has played at some point or another. Mount and Aether are still in it,” he pauses, “and I guess those two air ghoulettes and that multi ghoul as well.” 

“Him?” 

Dew nods. 

Rain scoffs but does not say anymore. Interesting. That is going to be something he digs at when he is not so afraid of being kicked out again. 

The two talk for a while longer, empty plates long forgotten. Though, it is mostly Dew speaking with introjections from Rain every now and then. Dew ends up suggesting he meets the rest of the pack, but Rain is quick to shoot that down. Instead, they settle on something much simpler. A tour of the Ministry. They both get dressed after Dew steals some of Mountain’s clothes for Rain and they head out. He really cannot say if he is cut out for this whole mentoring thing, but watching Rain’s face fill with wonder as he shows him around makes something swell in his chest. He is more than happy to be the one Rain falls to. 

[collidescopeeyes]

Time is a Roulette Wheel

Viego: Pt 1

League of Legends | Viego x F!Reader

Chapters: Prologue | Viego: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Crossposted on AO3 here

SFW

Decided to break this up into parts because Tumblr is a Super Functional Website, but you can read the full thing on AO3.

Summary: Turns out that Runeterra isn't the only place that has a Void. Plucked from your world into one of a video game with nothing but stolen time powers, an inability to die and a middling recollection of lore, you're prepared to do just about anything to get back home again. You just have to find the right Champion to help.

Viego is handsome even with his face frozen in a rictus of rage and despair, you'll give him that much. You can fault Vex for a lot of things, but her taste in faces wasn't one of them. That being said, you're pretty sure the only reason she told you where to find him was so you'd leave her alone, so whatever crush she had on him was clearly skin-deep. Still, you were lucky to run into the edgy little yortle–navigating the shadow isles wasn't exactly easy. The mist was still thick, the dead still restless, and the castle itself still a mess of floating broken ruins. You could've been here for weeks before you found him. Not like you don't have the time, though.

The mist is warm when you lower your hand to Viego’s face, and it hums on your skin in a way that vaguely unnerves you. You wind his past around your fingers and twist, rewinding his months of imprisonment until you reach the moment of his defeat. Then, ever so carefully, you creep his time back and watch the mist creeps down his face, to his shoulders and torso. You freeze it there, just free enough for him to speak, and he looks tiredly up at you.

“Are you here to kill me?” He croaks.

“No,” you answer honestly.

He closes his eyes. “How disappointing.”

Your purse your lips, suddenly uncertain. You suppose that answered that question–you weren't sure if he was actually awake in the mist this whole time. He must have been, if he's not still raging and wailing from watching his wife die before his eyes again. You'd been expecting him to try and kill you, to yell and scream and generally just lose his shit. You'd been planning to exploit that for your benefit. This, the utter defeat in his voice, you weren't prepared for. “I'm here because I need your help,” you say, trying to project confidence into your voice. “I’m not from this world. I need to find a way to get home, to get safe passage through the Void to worlds beyond Runeterra.”

He slowly opens his eyes to half-lidded, looking up at you dispassionately. “So you came to me?” He gives his still-frozen body a derisive look, skepticism dripping from his every word.

“You scoured the world for anything that would bring your wife back, I figured you might've found something,” you explain evenly. “That, and all my other leads either couldn't help or wanted to kill me, so I'm running out of options.”

He doesn't look impressed. You sigh. “Look, if you help me, I can help you.” And here you pause, because you know what you're about to offer isn't yours to give, but goddamnit, you just want to go home. “I know what you want, and I can give you it.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment he looks heart wrenchingly hopeful, and you think for one glorious moment that you've got him. Then his expression shutters, and his mouth pulls into a thin line of grief. “I suppose you're offering to give me Isolde, then?”

You pause, but after a moment hesitantly nod. This wasn't what you were expecting. He was supposed to be obsessed, wasn't he? You thought he'd leap at your offer, but he just looks…tired. Like you're ripping open an old wound and he's sick of hurting–not offering him everything he's ever wanted on a silver fucking platter like you are. “Whole. Alive. Exactly as she was before she died.” You say, trying to impress upon him that you're offering exactly what he wants.

He snorts bitterly. “She is gone, specter, dead in the truest of ways.” His tone is mournful as he casts his eyes up, through the broken ceiling to the mists swirling overhead. “I cannot feel her in this world no longer.”

He's not listening. You guess you just have to prove it. You reach out and touch your fingers to his forehead, and in your hands you twist the past until centuries fold beneath your fingertips. The sun and moon flit overhead as you rewind, the walls rebuilding themselves from the onslaught of time and decay. He gasps, then chokes, as all at once he is human again, and you stand in the living past of his dead kingdom. There is an echo of the Void in your voice when you say, “Time is mine to command, Ruined King. She may be gone, but I can bring her back, just as she was the day before the poison touched her.”

Viego looks up at you, utterly human and trembling, and you decide your point has been made. The present pushes harshly back against your manipulations, and you let it snap back to it's rightful place with a wave of your hand. Viego is once again a broken thing bound to the floor of his ruined homeland, and he…begins to laugh. It is most assuredly not a happy sound–rather, it's as if he's about to transition into sobbing any second. “Cruel fate,” he moans, and you realize as he looks up to the heavens that he is indeed crying; slick black tears as thick as oil which wisp into mist at the edges, sure, but tears nonetheless. “The one my heart most desires detests me, rejects me in favor of the oblivion I laboured to free her from, and you offer her to me once more?”

You shift uncomfortably, only to lurch as you realize you're swaying on your feet. That little demonstration took more out of you than you thought–time wasn't as malleable here as it was in the Void, and bringing so much back from so long ago was more difficult than anything else you've done since you got here. Viego is still wailing and moaning almost incoherently, and you really don't want to pass out in front of him. “Give it a think,” you say as casually as you can manage. “I'll be back.”

And with that, you walk away with measured steps that hopefully disguise how unsteady you feel, physically and otherwise.

---

You're not sure how long you're out for, but Viego seems to have composed himself by the time you come back. At least a day, maybe two, but it's hard to keep track of time when you can't see the sun. He regards you evenly as you approach, and before you can speak he announces “I decline.”

You blanch. “You what?”

“I. Decline.” He says purposefully.

Shit. You hadn't planned for this. He was your last concrete lead, everything after him was a shot in the dark. “Why? Don't you want your wife back?” You ask, baffled and more than a little panicked.

He closes his eyes as if your words pain him. “More than you can possibly imagine. But Isolde…it is time for her to rest. I see that now.” When he opens his eyes they stay low, gazing down into the weeping hole in his chest. “I thought that she would love me no matter what became of me, as I did her, but I was wrong. I thought that we could be happy together, if only I could find a way to bring her to my side once more.” His tone is mournful, but when he looks up at you his gaze is no less resolute for the pain in them. “My Queen has made her decision. I will not cause her more pain than I already have.”

You blink, desperately searching his expression for a crack, for some indication that he's just putting up a brave face. Then you sigh deeply, and practically collapse onto the cold stone floor. You may as well– no point pretending to have it together anymore. “God, the first time you exhibit a fucking iota of self-awareness just had to be when I was relying on you being a selfish prick, didn't it?” You gripe, though you sound like you're on the brink of crying. The bastard just had to have time to self reflect, didn't he?

He has the gall to look offended. “I'm not so thick as to ignore condemnations from the person I hold dearest.”

You roll your eyes. “The first time you brought her back she stabbed you with your own sword, and then you decided to try doing it again. I would think she was pretty clear about her feelings on the matter the first time.”

He jerks back slightly, which is as far as his bonds will allow. “She…what? I don't…” he casts his eyes down, brow furrowed in thought. “Isolde was the one who killed me…?”

You give him a scrutinizing look, but he seems genuinely baffled. “You don't remember,” you realize, remembering that single line of text in his bio.

He shakes his head faintly. “I had wondered what could have shattered her soul so thoroughly,” he says, voice so soft you're not actually sure he's speaking to you. “My blade and those waters…so that is what happened.” He tilts his head back to look up at the black mist choking the sky, and laughs bitterly. “I truly do destroy everything I touch, don't I?”

You don't have a response to that. You wonder if you should leave, but summoning the strength for that seems like a Herculean task right now. Where should you go next, anyway? Track down more voidspawn? None of the Void's other servants you've found seemed amicable to helping you so far, and the Voidspawn themselves seem mostly concerned with trying to eat you. You hadn't found Ryze yet, but that was just hoping his poorly defined magic crystals somehow could help.

“Your home,” Viego says some time later, interrupting your thoughts. You'd almost forgotten he was there. “Where is it?”

You shrug one shoulder, your body feeling like one big dead weight. “Far. Beyond the stars and the Void, in a world where all of this is nothing but a story.” You wave your hand around you vaguely. It was the best way to describe ‘you were a video game character’ that didn't end with you covered in blood.

He's quiet for a moment. “In my study,” he says finally. “There are notes on the Void. I thought it might hold the answers to returning Isolde to me, but the toll it would take on her fragile soul would have been too great.”

You don't bother to hide your surprise when you look at him. “You…why?”

He sighs. “You speak as if you know me, which means you must know that I am…” his brow furrows. “What did you say? Ah, yes. A selfish prick. But Isolde…Isolde was kind, and selfless, and everything I am not. If I am to make my transgressions up to her, wherever she is now, then I should start by trying to be the kind of man she would have wanted me to be.”

You pause, considering him. He seems genuine, if no small amount grief stricken. “Hard to do that stuck in there,” you point out, testing the waters.

He shrugs as much as he is able. “I cannot say I blame them, the doll and the sentinel. I did kill them. I suppose this is as close as they could get to doing the same to me.”

You tilt your head, examining him closely. “What would you do, if I let you out of there?”

He looks at you warily, but seems to seriously consider the question. “I am…unsure,” he says slowly. “I have lived with but a single purpose for so long, I don't…”

“Vengeance?” You suggest. “Isolde is off the table, sure, but wreaking havoc on the world that dared to take her from you? Covering the continents in black mist and turning it into an unliving graveyard of cursed souls?”

He grimaces immediately. “No, that's not…she would not have wanted that.”

You stand, dusting off your clothes. “That's good enough for me.” You reach your hand out to him, and the Hallowed mist recedes into its needles, the thread falling limply from his wrists without Gwen to guide them. He slumps as it goes, as if he weren't prepared to hold his own weight up. He flexes his hands, and when he looks up at you he seems confused. You can't blame him. You're not even fully sure why you're doing this–just that leaving him here, trapped in this nightmarish stasis surrounded by the memory of everything he's lost, seems wrong.

That doesn't mean you fully trust him, though. “If I hear about you causing problems, I will find you,” you say casually. “I don't know if you can die, but I can stop time from ever passing for you again, and that's basically the same thing.” You glance at the needles still stuck in the stone. “You won't be awake, at least.”

He stands gingerly, and then nods grimly. “If I fail her again, I will be counting on it.”

---

You're expecting that to be it. That you'll go your separate ways, possibly until such a time he turns out to be fully crazy and you have to kill him. Instead, he shows up a week later while you're pouring through his notes. You only notice him because of the reflection in the dusty glass in the study's single intact window.

“You have shit note-taking skills, y'know that?” You say somewhat accusingly. “Beautiful handwriting, but shit note-taking.”

In the reflection, you see him he shrug casually where he's leaning against the doorway. “Academics were never my strong suit, ‘tis true.”

You turn around, holding out a sheaf of yellowed parchment and pointing to it accusingly. “What the fuck is this supposed to say, anyway?”

He leans forward, blinking at the offending word. Then he gives you a skeptical look. “Rest. It says, rest.”

You whip the page back to face you, squinting. “What? How is that an R? How is that an S?” You glance up at his skeptical expression, then flush. “Look, I wasn't taught cursive, gimme a break.” You toss the paper back on the desk. You're pretty sure it's useless to you. All of it is. “What're you still doing here, anyway?”

He gives you a blank look, as if he doesn't understand the question. “Where else would I go?”

You raise a brow. “I dunno, somewhere less miserable? What, are you planning to mope around here forever?”

He looks around as if you're referring to this specific room. “The idea has its appeal,” he says, almost to himself.

Somehow, the thought of him wandering around his ruined castle for eternity like some sort of kicked dog is both depressing and irritating to you. Like he's giving up, when you've been fighting so long and so hard the very idea revolts you. It has to–you don't have any other option. “Didn't you say you were going to try and be the kind of man Isolde wanted you to be?” You ask, probably a bit too sharply. He glances at you, surprised and a little on guard at your tone. “I can't claim to have known the woman, but somehow I doubt she wanted you to spend eternity in what is possibly the most depressing way anyone could spend eternity.”

He looks away, mouth a thin line. “I would not be so sure, after all the pain I caused her.” You open your mouth to argue, and then remember that she did kill him.

“Look, was she a spiteful person?” You try instead.

He recoils as if the thought offends him. “No, of course not.”

“Then she wouldn't want you to punish yourself like this,” you say.

His brow furrows, though you're not sure if it's in confusion or irritation. “And what would you know?”

You shrug one shoulder. “I am a spiteful person, and if you tried that shit on me I would've tried to kill you the second time too.”

“Ha!” Surprisingly, Viego laughs. It's a dry, self-depreciating sound closer to a bark than anything, but it is a laugh. “What am I to do, then? How can I possibly begin to undo what I have done?” His tone as a challenge, and you're about to snap back, but when you look in his eyes he just looks horribly, terribly lost. This is a man who has lost everything that meant anything to him, you realize, and he's desperately struggling to find his way back to the line. You've been there, and despite yourself, empathy tugs at you.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Look. Did she love you, before all of this? When you were alive?”

He opens his mouth, then pauses, brow scrunching. “When we were alive, yes, we were in love.” he finally says, his voice slow as if he's not entirely sure of his own words.

“Then she would've wanted what anyone wants for their loved ones after they've gone. She wanted you to find a way to be okay without her, to be happy without her.” Your voice is measured, with an edge of imploring. You weren't good at the whole conversation thing even before the Void happened, let alone during emotionally charged conversations.

He gives you a look that is all at once bitter, mournful, and as if you're suggesting something both impossible and idiotic. “There is no happiness for me without her.”

“You're like a broken record, y'know that?” You say archly. “Yes, she's gone, and I know how much that hurts, believe me, but that grief isn't all you are. You were happy before her, you can be again.”

He blinks oddly, a strange haze entering his eyes. “Before…Isolde?”

You nod slowly, suddenly unsure. “Yes. You were a prince before you two met, right? Nobility?” You pick up a random note and gesture at the fancy, curling script there. “You obviously had a lot of calligraphy lessons. Did you enjoy those?”

He stares at the paper as if he's never seen it before, then at you in apprehensive confusion. “I don't remember.”

You sigh, tossing the paper away. “You said you weren't very academic, so I suppose that makes sense.”

“Did I?” He murmurs, touching his mouth. “I don't…it seemed like it was true when I said it, but when I think back, there is nothing.” His hand travels to his cheekbone, and he frowns. “I recall that I look like my father, but I can't even remember his face, or why I know that to be true. Nor my mother, or anything of my childhood, my past…anything. Anything but Isolde.”

You blink. You thought he had just been obsessed with her because of love, but maybe it wasn't just that–if Isolde was all he remembered, all he had left, of course he would become fixated. If she was the last thing on his mind when he died, when he was trapped in that sword…you guess it wasn't a stretch, that she's the thought he would hold onto while everything else fell away over the centuries. “Dying really did a number on you, huh?” You muse.

His hand falls to the ragged hole in his chest. “The mist takes everything from those who are too weak to withstand it. Everything they are, everything they have ever been. I did not think I…” he trails off, and you both watch as plumes of mist roll from his broken heart to the floor, and he laughs bitterly. “But of course. How does one remember that they have forgotten something, when all reminders have been destroyed by their own hand? Why would I be spared the curse I created?” That seems like a rhetorical question, so you don't respond.

A long moment of silence passes, Viego deep in thought. It seems wrong to interrupt him, and you don't exactly have anywhere better to be right now. Eventually, he looks up at you, face creased with concentration. “I think,” he says slowly, “I enjoyed horseback riding, through the forests. I remember I wanted to take Isolde, but she did not know how to ride and horses scared her terribly, and I recall being very disappointed, so…I must have wanted to go. I must have enjoyed it, if I wanted to share it with her.” His voice gains certainty as he speaks, as he reasons out something so basic about himself from what little memories he has.

You make a decision, then and there. “Come with me,” you offer, except it comes out like you're telling him.

He blinks at the non-sequitor. “With you? To where?”

“You can go anywhere your mist goes, right?” He nods, confused, and you hold out your hand. “Gimme your sword, then follow me.”

“My sword?” He repeats, uncomprehending.

You wiggle your fingers at him impatiently. “This place is super depressing, Viego, and I've got a long list of places I'd rather be. So you can either let me borrow your sword, or you can stay here and be miserable. What'll it be?”

For a long moment he just stares at you. Then he gives a disbelieving little laugh, and raises his hand above yours. The blade materializes in it as if he were already holding it, before he drops it into your waiting palm. The moment it touches your skin, a strange flash of sensation travels up your arm, like dousing yourself in cool water. Your arm sinks with the sudden weight of it, but you manage to avoid dropping it. You grin at him, pleased. “Okay, now follow me,” you say, and rewind.

You pick a few months ago, when you were passing through a lush woodland. You pull yourself back to that time, then let the past push your intrusive presence back to the present where it belongs. Teleportation in two easy steps, if only to places you've already been.

For a long moment, you think Viego isn't coming. His sword is cold in your hand, thin sheets of mist dripping from it onto the grass, and by God is it heavy, so you stab it into the dirt. When you look up, Viego is there.

He looks around, brow furrowed. “Where are we?”

You shrug. “Somewhere in Ionia. I wasn't keeping track. I don't have any horses, and I somehow doubt they would tolerate you, but we can walk. See how you feel.”

He gives you a puzzled look. “Why are you doing this?”

You pause, and your voice is soft when you reply. “Because I know what it's like, to lose so much of yourself that a monster is the only thing you can be if you want to survive. And because I'm trying to find my way back to being the kind of person the people I love would want me to be, too.”

There's something unreadable in his eyes when he looks at you. Then, he draws his sword from the ground, and as it disappears into mist he begins to walk. Without a word, you follow. Somehow, leaving him alone seems cruel. For all that he's probably insane, he also strikes you as terribly, unbearably lonely.

He doesn't speak, and the silence begins to wear on you, so you do. You tell him about your world, how different it is, how you relied on machinery instead of magic. It's a dangerous game, feeling out the edges of what you're allowed to say, but it's also somehow freeing. To say you converse would be a stretch, but for all that his expression says that he thinks you might just be delusional, he seems intrigued by the world you describe. His questions are tinged with skepticism, especially when you get into trying to explain the Internet. You even get a laugh out of him as you offhandedly mention that your mystical worldwide library that contained the accumulated knowledge of your entire species was obviously largely used for disseminating pornography.

As night falls, for the first time, Viego comes to a stop and looks at you. His eyes are oddly bright in the dark, and his crown casts a dramatic glow over his face. He's looking at you like he can't quite make sense of you. “I do not know your name,” he finally says.

You guess you hadn't actually introduced yourself. As always, your real name rises to the tip of your tongue before you swallow it back. “You can call me Iso,” you say instead.

His lip quirks, and he gives you a very princely half bow, though his movements are slow as if he's following half-remembered steps. “Viego Santiarul Molach vol Kalah Heigaari, at your service.”

You laugh as he straightens up. “You can remember all that, but not whether you like calligraphy?”

“I did not like calligraphy,” he says decisively. “And my penmanship is middling at best. I suspect your standards are simply low.”

And then he vanishes.

“Bitch?” you say, disbelievingly, to the empty clearing

[kuzann]

The Wayward Heart

Written as my gift for @vixianna for the @valentines-core-exchange!

Summary

A ghost has stolen Vlad's heart, and now there's only one thing he can do to get it back: pretend to date Jack Fenton. Will he be able to work past his feelings, or will the entire matter end in disaster?

You can also read it on Ao3!

I think I got a bit too ambitious with trying to fit this entire story into only 20k words. ^^; But I still had an absolute blast writing it and I hope everyone(especially Vix) enjoys reading it! 💜 I'll be posting outlines and notes for it later today. Also, here's a link to the development of this fic for anyone who's interested in having a look!

Acquiring Help

Vlad paused before the front steps of FentonWorks and tried to get himself in order; he’d flown over so fast that he’d collided with a few trees on the way, and the disheveled result carried over to his regular attire. He plucked a particularly clingy twig from his hair and smoothed down a few silver locks that had come loose from his ponytail. The pronounced shadows under his eyes were something he could do nothing for at the moment—they were a consequence of the power drain he’d been hit with earlier, and a visible reminder that his ghost form held very little strength now.

The day had gone downhill so fast and it wasn’t even noon yet. If only he’d never heard of that wretched artifact to begin with. Then he wouldn’t have to beg Jack Fenton of all people for help and hope that Maddie was willing to play along.

Vlad took a deep breath, let it out, and steeled himself. Best to get this whole humiliating affair over with as soon as possible.

There was a distinct... Lack in his chest despite the nervous pulse thrumming in his fingertips. Another reminder of what was on the line here.

The door opened mere moments after he rang the doorbell and he was greeted by Jack Fenton’s wide smile and typical lack of volume control.

“Vladdie! Good to see ya!” Jack said as he stepped aside and gestured for Vlad to enter. “How’ve you been? Wanna play chess?”

“Perhaps another time, Jack,” Vlad said as he strolled past Jack and into the living room. The rest of the Fenton family was there, each watching him with either annoyance or suspicion or a mix of both. So circumstance had decided to hand him an audience. Just great. As if having to ask Jack for help to begin with wasn’t humiliating enough already. “I’m actually here because I need your help with something,” Vlad continued as he turned to Jack. “I’ve run afoul of a particular ghost—”

“And you need me to hunt it down? Say no more, pal!” Jack already had a gun in hand and was about to rush out the door when Vlad hung onto his harm to stop him.

“Not necessarily!” Vlad said quickly; if he couldn’t get ahead of Jack’s triggerhappy tendencies then they’d be in real trouble. “I require help of a more... Delicate variety. We have to play along with the ghost’s game this time.”

“And why would that be?” Maddie asked as she joined them. “Why should we cater to any ghost’s unreasonable whims?”

Vlad sighed. “Because that ghost has collateral right now. Very important collateral.” He was going to have to say it eventually, a statement as simultaneously ridiculous and as it was horrifying. He’d been trying to avoid it.

“And what ‘collateral’ might that be?” Maddie asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

“My heart,” Vlad said, flushing a bit with embarrassment. “Not in the metaphorical sense!” he added quickly, upon seeing their disbelief.

“Hold on—” Maddie grabbed his wrist and held her fingers against the underside for a few moments. “But you still have a pulse,” she said, one fist braced against her hip as she dropped his arm. “How do you know the ghost wasn’t trying to trick you?”

“Well, that would be far better than the alternative,” Vlad admitted, feeling a tiny bit of hope and no small amount of embarrassment. In truth he’d been so freaked out by the reveal that he hadn’t thought to ask someone else to check. Still, best to be sure. “But shouldn’t you also listen for it, all the same?”

Jack swung Vlad to face him and put an ear to his chest, even as Vlad fought down the rush of annoyance at having his personal space invaded so suddenly. He was a little paler than usual when he straightened. “Uh, you usually need a stethoscope to hear it, right?”

“You’d need one to hear it better but you should be able to hear it as long as you’re close enough.” Maddie was beginning to look a little worried as well, not a good sign. She also brought an ear to Vlad’s chest—something that would’ve made his heart race in better circumstances—and came away with an even deeper frown. “I’ll go get the stethoscope.” She took the steps two at a time as she sprinted upstairs, but Vlad’s smidge of hope was already dashed.

“Don’t worry, V-man. We’ll figure this out!” Jack pulled Vlad into a tight side-hug that he must’ve thought would be reassuring. Instead it added a distinct thread of anger to Vlad’s present anxiety.

Vlad glanced at Danny and Jazz and found the two watching him with keen interest in the latter’s case and smug amusement in the former’s. He was about to give Danny a glare when Maddie returned with the stethoscope in hand.

Maddie put the stethoscope in her ears and brought it to Vlad’s chest. She went a few shades paler after a few moments. “How can he still be alive like this?” 

“Isn’t it possible that Vlad just never had a heart to begin with?” Danny asked, his smirk still firmly in place.

Vlad gave him a look. That was a low blow given the circumstances, even with the relationship between them as bad as it was.

“Danny!” Jack said, looking at his son in shock. “How could you say something like that?!”

“Now’s not the time for distasteful jokes, Danny,” Maddie added. “I know what you’re getting at, but there was a time when Vlad was a kinder person than he is now.”

Vlad looked at her in shock—that comment felt like she’d actually slapped him. “Maddie—”

“Don’t interrupt,” Maddie said, holding a hand up for silence. “I’m thinking.” She brought a hand to her chin as she considered the current predicament more. “We should run some tests—”

“There’s no time for that!” Vlad said, holding his hands up in a silent request that they give him a little distance. The last thing he needed was them running tests that could reveal his secrets, especially without the cover of chronic ecto-acne to explain his more ghostly qualities. “I can’t keep the ghost waiting forever!”

“Then what game is my dad supposed to play with this ghost, Uncle Vlad?” Danny asked, with as much disdain placed on the name as he could muster.

Vlad ran a hand down his face and sighed. They’d arrived at the worst part of the whole affair. “We have to pretend to be a couple,” he said after some hesitation, feeling absolutely wretched as the words left his mouth.

Momentary silence followed the statement, and then Danny began laughing so hard that he fell off the couch.

Maddie tried to hold back her laugh, and failed.

“Well that shouldn’t be hard!” Jack declared, grinning as he pulled Vlad into another side-hug. “Vladdie and I were basically a couple back in college!”

“Don’t talk about that!” Vlad snapped as he pulled away from Jack.

Danny’s laughter came to an abrupt end. “Oh, gross!” he said, wrinkling his nose as if he’d just smelled something foul.

“Now Danny, just because those moronic churchgoers are so loud—” Maddie began.

“It’s not about two dudes being together,” Danny said. “It’s about one of the dudes in question being Vlad.”

“Anyway,” Maddie said, sweeping the conversation past its temporary tangent as she turned to Vlad again. “You still haven’t told us much about this ghost. What sort of powers are we talking about?”

“This ghost is called Mitzi the Matchmaker. As indicated by her title she’s all about matchmaking and helping ghosts form stable couples.”

“Ghost couples... So why’s she after you, then?” Jack asked with sincere confusion.

“Well, she had a particular artifact that I feared she might misuse, so I attempted to retrieve it,” Vlad began, the lie running smoothly enough; he’d gone over it on the way over, after all. The embarrassment necessary for selling that lie, however, was genuine. He wouldn’t hear the end of this one for a while. “And unfortunately it ended up activating on me instead.”

Danny let out a single snort of amusement at that. Jazz, meanwhile, was watching him the way a microbiologist watched a particularly interesting microbe on their slide. She even had a notebook open on her lap.

“So if we can convince her that you two make a good couple she’ll give your heart back and leave?” Maddie asked, giving him an incredulous look.

“That’s what she told me,” Vlad replied. “First I have to bring Jack back to her so she can do some sort of test. She’s at my mansion now.”

“And may I come along?” Maddie asked.

“Of course, I was hoping you would want to,” Vlad said quickly. In truth he’d been a tad hopeful that Mitzi could perform her compatibility test on him and Maddie as well; hopefully the result would be an even better match than whatever match he and Jack made.

“And if you try to use this to threaten my marriage, Vlad...” Maddie began, fixing Vlad with a glare.

Jack gasped. “Maddie! Vladdie would never do something like that!”

“I won’t!” Vlad said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “I just want my heart back, and to avoid that ghost she was trying to pair me off with instead!”

“Wait, other ghost?” Danny cut in. “What other ghost?”

Vlad let out a grumbling sigh. “She said that if I couldn’t find a good match myself then she’d force me to marry a ghost instead. He calls himself the Future Ghost King or some nonsense.”

Danny looked surprised. “Since when was there a Future Ghost King?”

“He picked the title himself, he’s some sort of wannabe tyrant from what I’ve heard,” Vlad replied with a wave of his hand. “And naturally he gets a large portion of my assets if I’m forced to marry him.”

Any lingering humor at Vlad's expense evaporated.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Danny said.

“The last thing we need is a maniacal ghost with Vlad’s resources,” Maddie added.

“No scummy ghost is laying a finger on my buddy!” Jack declared. “Let’s get over there and prove what a great couple we are, Vlad!” He grabbed Vlad by the hand and dashed out the front door, dragging Vlad along behind him like a hapless kite.

~~~

Vlad led the way to his library once they arrived, and there they found Mitzi the Matchmaker waiting for them.

She looked like your busybody aunt. Well, your busybody aunt who happened to be dead and had a taste for Edwardian fashion. Bright teal eyes blazed beneath the brim of her merry widow hat, the perfect contrast to her dusty rose attire and gray skin. She sat in the air as if perched on a bar stool, her floor-length gown trailing into a ghostly tail where it would’ve otherwise shown her boots, and looking perfectly at ease in Vlad’s library. The fur shawl draped over Mitzi’s shoulders shifted and raised its head, revealing itself to in fact be some manner of ermine ghost.

“Well you took your sweet time,” Mitzi said. Her voice was deep and somewhat husky, the sort that was uniquely suited to certain varieties of jazz accompaniment. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d decided to run off.”

“I was simply explaining the situation to everyone,” Vlad replied. He spotted the wretched artifact at her hip, a glass globe surrounded by a framework of interlocking metal rings similar to an armillary sphere. The beating heart inside the central globe was clearly visible even at this distance. “I’d like to introduce Jack Fenton and family,” he added, gesturing toward Jack with one hand.

“Hmm.” Mitzi drifted a tad closer as she sized him up, and Jack’s brows came down in a glare when he saw what was inside the artifact—Vlad had to put a hand on his shoulder to remind him to behave. “He will suffice, if the test proves your compatibility.” She drifted over to the nearest table and gestured for them to follow, her pet slipping from her shoulders and pulling chairs over for them to use.

They sat down across from Mitzi with Jack in the middle. Vlad noticed his pulse starting to pick up, and his eyes were drawn to the artifact at Mitzi’s belt; his heart was beating faster in time, making him a little sick as he watched.

The ghost nodded with satisfaction and shook her gown free of the ghostly tail, then summoned a wide shallow bowl of pale ceramic with a wave of her hand. Her pet passed a small bag to her, and she drew two black oblong stones from within. The stones had a silver sheen to them in the light, and she passed one each to Vlad and Jack. “Hold it in your hand for a few moments, and it will be attuned enough for the test.”

Vlad closed his fingers around the stone; it was heavy for its size and slightly warm, and its appearance reminded him of those magnetic hematite toys now that he’d gotten a chance to see it up close.

Mitzi gestured for the two to give the stones back, and she positioned each over an opposite side of the bowl once she had them in hand once again. “Now we will see.” She released them into the bowl. They skittered down the sides toward the center, repelling and dancing around each other twice before snapping together with a sharp click. “A good result,” Mitzi said with a smile.

Jack grinned. “Check me and Maddie next,” he said, probably seeing the little display as something akin to a game. Vlad couldn’t help but feel his hatred flare at the sight.

Mitzi passed the stones to Jack and Maddie and performed the test again as soon as she took them back. This time the two stones clicked together as soon as they drew near each other.

Maddie smirked. “I suppose Vlad is wanting to test with me, just out of curiosity,” she said without even a glance in his direction.

Again Mitzi performed the test. This time the two stones repelled each other so strongly that one of them shot out of the bowl and skittered off the table into a far corner of the room.

Vlad let his head drop to the table with a loud thump. He should’ve known, yet he’d still held out some hope. Seeing the stone leave the bowl felt like he’d been kicked in the chest. But at least the first test might allow him to get Mitzi to give his heart back and shove off if he could convince her that he and Jack were a thing. His skin crawled just thinking about the fact that he might have to get... Intimate, with Jack.

“Are you done moping yet?” Mitzi asked, cutting Vlad’s silent pity party short.

He lifted his head as Mitzi’s pet brought the errant stone back to her.

“You should be happy, really. You’re more compatible with Jack here than with Reginald,” Mitzi said. “Be that as it may, however, I still expect you to prove your relationship to me.”

“Of course,” Vlad said with a wave of his hand. “How should we do it? A tender embrace? Something of that sort?” he asked, his stomach churning even as he made the suggestion.

“You will perform a series of trials that I have devised for you, perhaps more beyond them if things prove difficult,” Mitzi said, without even considering his suggestion. “And when I am satisfied you will have your heart back. We start tomorrow.”

Vlad was expecting Danny to pull him aside once Mitzi dismissed them for the day. He’d even been expecting the boy to use force. The landing still ended up being painful, however.

~~~

“Must you do that every time you’re annoyed with me?” Vlad asked as he shoved the remains of a bookshelf off of himself. Danny had waited around half an hour before jumping him, catching him by surprise in his library as he tried to find any way out of this mess that didn’t involve playing Mitzi’s game.

“You’re the one who set the precedent the first time we met, I’m just following through,” Danny replied, arms folded over his chest as he watched Vlad. “Now spill it, Plasmius. What are you really up to?”

Vlad let out a grumbling sigh and got to his feet, shedding a few books as he did so. “Basically what I told your parents, with a few details omitted, obviously,” he replied.

“Those details being?”

There was a brief pause as Vlad considered whether or not he could trust Danny with the information, then realized it didn’t matter; the boy would find out either way, and he might even win a bit of trust from him if he was open about it now. “My heart wasn’t the only thing the artifact stole. It carved out a considerable portion of my ghost powers as well, it took most of my strength just to fly over to FentonWorks.”

“So that’s why you look worse than usual,” Danny quipped. He paused, one hand to his chin as he thought about something. “Sooo the chances that I could get rid of this ghost and get you away from my parents early—”

“Don’t fight her,” Vlad said, cutting Danny off. He didn’t want to think about what could await him if she succeeded in destroying his heart—full ghost at best, total annihilation at worst. “It’s too risky, just as I said to your parents.”

 “And you decided to tick off this ghost, why?” Danny asked. “I know it wasn’t some noble goal of keeping the artifact out of her hands. It was probably hers to begin with, wasn’t it?”

“A curiosity, to see if it could help me achieve a long-term goal,” Vlad replied stiffly.

“Right. So you were gonna try to use it to pair up with my mom,” Danny said, hitting the nail on the head. He smirked and huffed a short laugh through his nose. “And now you have to pretend to pair up with my dad instead, how’s that for irony?”

“Are you quite finished with your little interrogation?” Vlad rolled his shoulder, holding back a wince when it twinged; his healing factor was down too with his power levels being so low. His entire body was a mass of aches thanks to Danny’s attack. “I have special time with your father to prepare for.”

“Well, I do have to warn you that if you’re planning to use this to ruin my parents’ marriage—”

“Which I am not because that could jeopardize my own survival,” Vlad snapped. “Not to mention that your mother already implied ugly things if I did anything of the sort. I just want to put this whole mess behind me so I can forget it ever happened.”

“You’re lucky my dad is willing to go the distance for you like this,” Danny said, his smile fading. “You really do take him for granted.”

That got Vlad angry. He took a deep breath through his nose and clenched his fists; had he been at full power he would’ve blasted the brat right out of the air before he’d even finished the sentence. Go the distance? For twenty years Jack had proved what distance he was willing to go for Vlad, and it was woefully short. He only cared because Vlad was worth something now, and there was no way Vlad was falling for such an obvious trick. “I will give him as much esteem as a fairweather friend deserves, and nothing more,” Vlad said, forcing his tone to remain level. “I don’t know what your father told you about our past, but he gave me no reason to keep seeing him as a true friend after what he did to me.”

“Oh come on! Would you just move on already?” Danny said, his own frustration starting to show itself. “Everyone would be happier if you could just get over yourself and—”

“Do not speak of things you clearly know nothing about,” Vlad snapped, his tone declaring that while he could do nothing about Danny now he would certainly remember everything that happened and act on it later. “He ruins my life and pretends I don’t exist for two decades, then acts like nothing happened the next time we meet. Why don’t you tell me how you would treat a friend like that?”

“Ruined your life? What, by giving you superpowers?”

“You’re lucky that your own transition was so brief,” Vlad said, the breath behind his words hot with fury. He tried to calm himself by smoothing the wrinkles out of his sleeve and adjusting his suit cuff, his hands shaking as he did so; it didn’t work. “You would’ve broken long before I did had you endured mine.”

Danny didn’t reply, but by the incredulous look on his face the message hadn’t made it through. At last he sighed and leaned back. “Whatever. As long as you’re not after my parents I guess I won’t do anything.” He flew away, flashing into invisibility just before he phased through the far wall.

The clean noon light faded back into proper prominence, having been temporarily chased away by Danny’s ghostly influence. It was the sort of thing Vlad typically didn’t notice, given that he was usually the source. The room’s return to normal temperature also brought his attention to the heat pouring off his face.

Vlad looked down at his hand. The trembling was barely noticeable now, but it was still there. How had Danny managed to get a rise out of him with such ease? And when he wasn’t even trying to do so, no less.

He let his arms drop and took a deep breath to steady himself. It had to be the exhaustion that hung over him. Being low on ghostly power always made his human body tired. This was no different. Now he had to mentally prepare for the hell to come and try to get as much sleep as possible tonight.

~~~

The blast doors on the Fenton Portal were closed, to keep any additional ghostly interlopers from causing problems in the days to come. Jack missed the low hum it filled the lab with whenever it was open. He found it strangely comforting.

Noise from the various devices spread around their lab filled the gap in the background noise instead. Jack and Maddie had gotten back to business as usual after leaving Vlad’s house, though Vlad’s situation never strayed far from Jack’s mind.

“Man, I can’t believe Vladdie’s heart got stolen like that! Talk about creepy…” Jack said during a brief break from working on the circuitry of their latest prototype.

“Well, I suppose that’s what he gets for not leaving such things to the professionals,” Maddie said, not bothering to look up from her work on the prototype’s outer shell. By the way she paused in her work Jack knew she had more to say, but she chose not to share whatever it was.

“You’re… Okay with this, right?” Jack asked hesitantly. While she hadn’t objected to it while they were caught up in what was going on, he was still wary that she might have changed her mind. He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Vlad to some ghost, but if Maddie wanted otherwise that would complicate things.

“It’s fine. In fact, this might be exactly what Vlad’s been needing lately,” Maddie replied. “It’ll make him appreciate you more.”

Jack released the tension that had been building in his shoulders as he waited for her reply. That was a relief. The confidence in Maddie’s voice reassured him that she didn’t see Vlad as some sort of romantic threat, too. He’d been a tad worried about that from time to time but never had the courage to bring it up. “I’m just happy to spend time with him. Wonder what kind of stuff we’ll be doing tomorrow...”

The First Trials

It was a beautiful day. The light was clear and the air crisp and gilded with golden threads of birdsong. A light breeze caressed the trees around the trail, its chilly touch just strong enough to keep any heat of exertion at bay, even through the long sleeve shirt, jeans, and hiking boots Vlad had chosen to wear.

The natural beauty of the place was lost on Vlad as he focused on two things: getting away from Jack, and trying to figure out a way to avoid having to spend more time with Jack. He’d hit his limit before they even reached the trail Mitzi had chosen for the trial and now he set a relentless pace that kept Jack on the move and out of breath, keeping the excruciating smalltalk at bay and putting a good bit of distance between them.

Vlad arrived at the first overlook and spared a few moments to stare out over the forest below, spotting the shining blue sliver of Lake Erie in the distance. He moved on just as Jack made it to the overlook.

It was just past noon when Vlad arrived at the trailhead again. He had as many answers as he’d started the hike with, which was none. Frustrating, but at least they would be heading home soon.

Maddie raised an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. “Where’s Jack?”

Mitzi floated beside her, looking completely unamused. “Yes, where is your partner? I had hoped you would be enjoying the trail together.”

“He was right behind me just a moment ago.” Vlad turned back to the mouth of the trail and started toward it.

Jack joined them before Vlad could set foot on the trail again, out of breath and very sweaty in the long sleeve shirt and overalls he’d worn for the hike. “That was—” he paused to catch his breath, “—a real workout. Thanks for pushing me there, Vladdie.” Jack gave Vlad a thumbs up, and for a moment Vlad wondered if he was actually trying to trick Mitzi into thinking this was intentional.

Mitzi spoke before Vlad had the chance to roll with it: “This is how you treat someone so close? How disappointing.” She shook her head, arms crossed over her chest. “You have failed this trial.”

“Failed?!” Vlad broke out into a cold sweat as he scrambled silently for some way to talk her out of giving them a failing grade. “But we completed the hike, didn’t we?” A weak attempt, one that he regretted even as it left his mouth.

“The point of this trial was to enjoy nature together. You barely enjoyed the nature and you were not together. It’s as if you can barely stand to be around this man you claimed to be your partner.”

“But—”

Mitzi held up a hand, silencing him before he could get another word out. “You have failed this assignment. Do not embarrass yourself further by trying to talk around this.”

Jack straightened and huffed as big a laugh as he could while still out of breath. “Don’t worry, Vladdie! We’ll ace the next one!” he declared as he pulled Vlad in for a tight, sweaty side-hug—and made Vlad regret every moment he’d forced Jack into a fast pace on the hike.

“You’d better. This is your first strike. Two more and I’ll be shipping you off to Reginald.”

Vlad went pale. They were doomed. He couldn’t even remember saying Jack’s name when Mitzi asked if he had anyone he’d want to be with, he’d been scrambling through the beginnings of a plan to get Maddie to help him and was thinking so intensely on it that he must’ve said it by accident. There was no way he’d be able to tamp down his anger long enough to make it through the rest of these trials; they were only delaying the inevitable at this point.

“I will let you rest for a few hours, then the next trial will begin,” Mitzi said, cutting Vlad’s ruminations short. “Take care not to disappoint me next time.”

~~~

Mitzi wanted them to waltz. Jack had never waltzed before, but he could dance and that had to be good enough. They’d ace this trial no problem and put things back on track.

They were in the small ballroom on the west side of Vlad’s mansion, making space while Mitzi selected the music they would dance to. Jack did his best to ignore the ache in his legs as they moved the furniture to the walls. He’d had a few hours to clean himself up and recover after the hike trial, but he was definitely going to feel it for a few days with the pace Vlad set for them.

At last Mitzi found the music she wanted and played it for them. It was a classical piece, definitely not something Jack was used to dancing to, but they only had to waltz until the end of the song and that would be this trial in the bag.

Jack met Vlad in the middle of the cleared space. The floor under their feet was hard polished wood that made even Jack’s boots sound fancy as he walked across it and held the afternoon light like the surface of a still pond.

Vlad’s usual suit was as crisp as ever, but he looked tired. The shadows under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, and Jack hadn’t seen him smile even once today. “Do you know how to waltz?” he asked as he looked up at Jack. The light playing across his hair made it shine almost like moonlight, and Jack’s pulse quickened a bit as he looked at it.

“Nope, but we’ll figure it out,” Jack said with absolute confidence. There was nothing they couldn’t face when they worked together, after all. The hiking trial was just a fluke.

“Right.” Vlad closed his eyes for a moment, then drew himself up to full height. “I’ll take the lead, then. Just follow my movements and we’ll be fine.”

Their first silent attempts were clumsy, but as long as Jack kept his attention on their feet he managed to keep time. His grin faded somewhat when he looked up and noticed that Vlad still wasn’t smiling. Nerves, probably. Jack couldn’t blame him with his actual heart on the line.

“Passable,” Mitzi said. “Let’s see how well you do with music.”

They started their waltz with Vlad leading them in time with the music. It was getting easier and easier as they moved. Jack lifted his attention from their feet and grinned at Vlad.

“We’ve got this one in the bag,” Jack said, his voice just loud enough for Vlad to hear over the music. 

“Yes, just keep following my lead and we’ll make it through this,” Vlad replied, looking a little more relaxed now. Jack couldn’t help but admire his grace, he was dancing so well even when he was this tired.

“We could even spice things up a bit and pass this thing with flying colors!”

“Wait, Jack—” Anything else Vlad had to say was cut off as Jack yanked him into a spin. “Jack, we just have to do a waltz!”

“We got that down, let’s try to impress her.”

Vlad pulled Jack back into the waltz and winced. “You can’t just change the plan without asking me first!”

“But I did ask,” Jack said as he let himself get swept up in the music again.

Another wince from Vlad as they completed another round. “You did not ask.” Vlad winced again and his frown deepened. “You told me your idea and just went ahead with it before I could say otherwise.”

“Come on, it’ll be fine! We’re already halfway through!” Jack swung Vlad around again and tried to push back into the waltz at the end.

Vlad winced and grit his teeth. “Jack, stop.”

“But we’re past the halfway mark, we just have to keep going a little longer!” Jack caught Vlad as he fell back and kept up with the dance. Probably soreness from the hike making him stumble, poor guy.

“Jack—”

“Don’t worry, Vladdie. We’re almost there!” It had to be because Vlad was tired from the hike. With that being the case Jack would just have to lead.

“Jack!” Vlad stumbled again and almost lost his footing.

“It’s fine, we’re doing a-oka—”

“You’re hurting me!”

Jack stopped and stared at Vlad for a few moments, then he looked down. He was standing on both of Vlad’s feet. “Oh.” Jack stepped back.

Vlad pulled himself free of Jack’s grasp, then limped to the nearest chair and sat down.

The CD moved to the next track.

Jack remained where he was, unsure of what to do with himself. They’d almost done it. They were even having a good time...

Vlad had his head down, his expression hidden from Jack. He had to be tired from the hike, and had to be stressed over what was going on. Taking risks was probably even scarier than usual.

Which meant Jack had gotten carried away again...

Jack approached slowly, and Vlad didn’t stir when he reached him. “Uh, could we try again?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ll let you lead.”

For a moment he worried Vlad might not reply. “Fine,” Vlad said finally. “Just don’t step on my feet this time.” He allowed Jack to pull him up from the seat and followed him to the center of the dance floor.

Mitzi started the music again.

Jack watched Vlad’s movements and followed, taking special care to avoid his feet. Their waltz was still clumsy, but it caused a minimum of pain for Vlad this time. The music dulled to background noise as Jack focused on his dance partner.

Vlad still wasn’t smiling. In fact the set of his jaw suggested he was angry and trying to hold it back. It brought to mind something Mitzi said earlier: it’s as if you can barely stand to be around this man... But that couldn’t be right. They were friends. Vlad invited him back into his life with the reunion invitation, and then he’d even moved to Amity Park to be closer to them... The situation was just a bit awkward because Jack was a married man.

There was the way Vlad was holding himself at a distance too... But that could be explained by the fact that Jack was married again. Didn’t want to give Maddie the wrong idea. But it still hurt after how close they’d been back in college...

The end of the waltz was drawing near. Vlad’s knees buckled as they came to a standstill and Jack swept him into a dip to hide it. Not that they needed to, but it felt natural.

Vlad blushed deep red when he realized what was happening, but he said nothing.

Jack felt the sudden desire to complete the dip with a kiss the way he did with Maddie. He resisted and brought them back up to a standing position again. That would definitely be too far, despite their current couples act. It would only be acceptable if Vlad invited it. Jack held Vlad a little closer all the same and met no resistance; he was still worried that Vlad’s legs might give out again.

Mitzi applauded them, her pet joining in with a toothy grin. “Excellent. You have passed the trial.”

Vlad let out a long sigh and went limp in Jack’s arms. “Thank goodness.”

“That’s it?” Jack asked, looking at Mitzi with surprise.

“I don’t expect you to waltz professionally, just successfully,” Mitzi replied. “And you did, I’m pleased to say.”

“Good, good,” Vlad said distantly. He started to step back. “Alright, Jack. You can let me go now.”

“Oh, right.” Jack let him go.

Vlad made it back to the chair and collapsed into it. “Are we doing any more today?” he asked after taking a few moments to recover, his tone fearful.

“That’s all for today,” Mitzi replied. “I can’t expect you to show me your best if I run you into the ground, after all.” She paused to consider something. “Though one’s true mettle does reveal itself under stressful situations, now that I think about it.”

Jack and Vlad shared a worried look.

“Perhaps another day,” Mitzi said, finishing the thought. “For now, go take your rest and prepare for tomorrow.”

~~~

Vlad stared up at his bedroom ceiling, too tired to do anything other than lay around with his feet up and mope. He’d alternated between ice and compression as soon as Jack was out the door, and they still ached terribly regardless. The fact that his body was more durable than that of a typical human had saved him from worse than the multitudinous bruises he dealt with now. Any normal human would’ve walked away with a few broken toes at best after dancing with Jack.

Just what was he thinking earlier? They were doing fine with Vlad leading the waltz but all of a sudden Jack had to ‘improve’ on it. As if what Vlad was doing just wasn’t good enough. Stepping all over his feet like that had probably been intentional too.

Vlad shifted his legs to keep them from falling asleep.

Jack probably would’ve kept on doing it had Vlad not told him. And not even a whiff of an apology afterward too. Some things never changed, but at least he wasn’t making excuses for himself this time. No, he’d just pretended it didn’t happen and moved on. It wasn’t in Jack’s nature to admit to doing wrong. Danny’s ability to say ‘sorry’ at all had to have come entirely from Maddie.

The way he’d told Jack bothered him. You’re hurting me. It was the truth, but it sounded weak and pathetic. Like he was beneath Jack when he should’ve been above being able to be hurt by thim.

Vlad turned onto his side to give himself something new to stare at, his legs slipping off the pillows as he did so.

He’d been letting Jack hurt him for years, by carrying that grudge. But doing otherwise felt like letting Jack off easy after the damage he’d done. After all the years of pain he’d caused without so much as an ‘I’m sorry’ to say for himself when they finally met again. Jack Fenton was an arrogant fool who forced everyone around him to pay the price of his good fortune.

A set of paws kneading biscuits into his ribs cut off any further musing. Vlad turned his head and found his slender white cat Marty standing over him, purring and biscuiting away without a care in the world.

“Hello there my little man,” Vlad said as he turned over to give Marty a better perch. “Are you making your bread again?”

Marty gave a little chirp of a meow and settled on Vlad’s chest, eyes closed and fangs hanging out of his mouth in a way that Vlad found absolutely adorable.

“Oh what would I do without you,” Vlad said, smiling. He scratched at Marty’s neck and was rewarded with an even louder purr. Yes, no point in wasting any more energy on Jack than necessary. Vlad would just have to rest up and try to get through the next day with as much grace as he could muster.

~~~

Jack set his needlepoint project on the bedside table; he was making clumsy stitches, and it was clear that he would just keep doing it if he tried any more tonight. “Maddie?” he asked, looking over at her.

“Hmm?” Maddie kept her attention on her book for a few moments longer, then looked up at him. “Yes, Jack?”

“Do you think Vlad still likes me?”

Maddie’s eyebrows snapped up with surprise. “What brought this on?”

“Well what that ghost said after the hike, and Vlad wasn’t having fun at all even though I was…” Jack fiddled with the sleeve of his night suit as he thought it over again. “So it made me wonder.”

“Better late than never,” Maddie said to herself as she placed her bookmark and set her book aside. “Though to be fair, Jack, you were stepping all over his feet during that first waltz.”

“I didn’t know I was doing that!” Jack said defensively. “I would’ve stopped sooner if he told me,” he added.

Maddie gave a quiet sigh. “I know, you do get caught up in your head so easily. It’s just something people have to get used to.”

“But Vlad knows me. He knew how to roll with it back in college.”

“That was twenty years ago, Jack,” Maddie said. “And you didn’t part on the best terms back then. You really don’t think he’s changed?”

“Well I...” Jack stopped. He had no real answer. Didn’t want to find the answer, more like. He’d caught glimpses of his old friend here and there, behind the mask of wealth and success. The Vlad he knew had to be in there somewhere. He’d assumed that Vlad just needed time to unwind around him, that they would eventually reclaim what they’d left behind in college. He’d assumed that Vlad was trying in his own way, and just hadn’t found his stride yet. That he wanted to be Jack’s friend too.

He’d assumed, and he’d assumed. Earlier he’d assumed that Vlad needed him to take over the dance, but really he just needed Jack to keep following along with what they already had planned. They hadn’t needed to do the fancier things that Jack wanted, just what was necessary. In the end he’d been trying to show off for Vlad instead of doing what Vlad needed.

“I don’t know,” Jack said.

“Well, maybe it’s about time you found out,” Maddie said. 

~~~

The stove was on fire. Not the parts of the stove that should have fire coming out of them, but the pans and pots and all the parts in between.

Vlad put a fire blanket over the lot and tucked in the edges to trap out the air. His physical movements were carefully controlled, but inside he was screaming. He never should’ve left Jack unattended in his kitchen. This was an absolute disaster.

“Whoops, haha,” Jack said, at least having the grace to sound embarrassed over what he’d done. “Guess things got away from me there.”

“Yes, you managed to put us back to square one in a single stroke,” Vlad grumbled. He should’ve known better than to let Jack handle something like this by himself—he’d always been an absentminded cook at best from what Vlad remembered. Vlad sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I don’t have enough ingredients on hand to make the same thing again. We’ll have to figure something else out.”

“I’ll uh, go check on everyone,” Jack said, and he slipped out of the kitchen before Vlad had a chance to tell him otherwise.

That was just as well for now. Let Jack try to explain the delay to his family without admitting he was at fault. Vlad didn’t need Jack distracting him while he tried to think anyway, that was already hard enough at the moment; his feet still hurt from yesterday, he was tired from most of his ghost powers being absent, and the stress of falling behind and dealing with Jack’s antics had him near breaking point.

What he needed most right now, at this moment, was to get off his feet.

Vlad took a seat at the kitchen table and rested his head on his arms, trying to will ideas into his tired and overwhelmed brain. He had sandwich makings, but the meal had to be more elaborate than that. Something he and Jack would be putting together as a team that didn’t just take five minutes to make.

“Hey, Vladdie.”

“What is it?” Vlad growled.

“I know how to buy us some time.”

“Oh what, are you going to distract them by setting my dining room table on fire too?”

“Nah that would make things worse,” Jack said with complete seriousness. “I was thinking we should do a cheese board. Y’know, as a warm up for the main course.”

Vlad lifted his head and looked up at Jack. “You got the idea from Maddie, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Actually it was all mine!” Jack declared proudly.

Vlad wondered if he was lying to save face, then decided it didn’t matter at the moment. “Well I’ve got a good selection on hand at least,” he said as he hauled himself to his feet and started toward the fridge.

“I can put it together,” Jack said, moving to head Vlad off before he could get there. “You plan a new meal while I do that.”

“Fine, fine,” Vlad said with a wave of his hand. “Just don’t set the board on fire too.”

“No worries, V-man. This’ll be easy!”

Vlad retrieved his best cheese board from its slot in a cupboard and passed it off to Jack, then took stock of the ingredients they had on hand. Sandwich makings... He could turn them into monte cristo sandwiches, which were at least more entertaining than regular sandwiches. Vlad took a few cookbooks down from the shelf and flipped through at random in search of ideas. Now what to serve with it, something light and crisp to counteract the savory sweetness of the monte cristo… Fresh fruit parfaits? Those would be a good dessert. A green salad with light vinaigrette dressing would do for a side, and tomato bisque was always a winner when it came to soups.

“Hey, Vlad.”

“Hmm?” Vlad looked up from his planning and found Jack standing across the island from him.

“Ta-da!” Jack swept a hand over his creation.

Vlad had been expecting Jack to simply throw cheese and crackers on the board and call it a day, but what he found instead was much more than that: a variety of cheeses and crackers of course, but there were also grapes, apples, pears, artichoke hearts, olives, and a green dip that he guessed was pesto. In all it was a board that offered a nice variety of flavors to accompany the cheese, and all it needed now were some suitable refreshments to accompany it.

“Well, I’m impressed, Jack,” Vlad said. It was a sincerely pleasant surprise to see something turn out right. “How did you make your selections? You did a good job.”

“Uuh...” Jack stared at him blankly. “I dunno, I just thought it would taste good together,” he said with a shrug.

“Right... You’ve always been a man of instinct, haven’t you?” Vlad said, partially speaking to himself. It was a trait that, paired with Jack’s amazing luck, allowed him to get away with his spontaneity a lot of the time. “I have some ciders that will go well with this, they’re in the fridge.”

Jack took the cheese board out while Vlad wrote down their new menu and found the required recipes for it. They had more time to prepare the new meal, so Jack had at least somewhat redeemed himself for what he’d done earlier. Vlad was not letting him use the stove under any circumstances, but that didn’t mean Jack couldn’t help elsewhere...

Vlad was ready when Jack returned. “I have a plan,” he said. “Are you ready to help?”

“Lay it on me, Vladdie!” Jack said with utmost gusto.

“I want you to be my assistant while I prepare the dishes. So you’ll be doing things like prepping ingredients and getting plates and such ready. Can you do that?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jack replied. “Let’s get cracking!”

~~~

The lunch was a success. What Jack lacked as an individual cook he made up for as an assistant to one. He’d been at Vlad’s elbow throughout, ready to help and even able to preempt what Vlad needed at times, and it had even become somewhat enjoyable to work with him toward the end. Not that those feelings would last long. It was just a matter of time before Jack hurt him again.

“You have passed the trial,” Mitzi said, giving them a genuine smile.

“We did it!” Jack gave Vlad a wide grin.

“That we did,” Vlad said, his voice flat with exhaustion. He swirled his peach spritzer and took a sip. The trial had taken its toll regardless of success. Hopefully there would be nothing more today.

Real Talk

The picnic was pleasant enough. They’d again worked together to prepare it, as they’d done the previous day, a light affair like an afternoon tea since lunch had already passed. It was a sunny spring day, and the hill they’d picked out in Amity’s largest park offered a nice view of the city.

“Hey Vlad, have you been okay lately?” Jack asked as he looked over at him.

Vlad stared at him blankly. He was really asking that, given the circumstances?

“I mean outside of the stuff that’s going on right now,” Jack said hastily.

“Am I okay?” Vlad had to stop and think about it, swirling his iced tea as he did so. If he was being honest with himself, his life didn’t feel particularly… Happy. It was one long string of goals with a temporary high whenever one was achieved, but the moments in between weren’t particularly happy on their own. They gave him too much time to brood on the past, so he moved through them as quickly as possible. “No, I suppose not,” he admitted aloud, to his own surprise.

A panicked look settled on Jack’s face upon hearing that. “Oh, uh…” Jack looked away, plainly unable to think of an adequate reply. The fool, he shouldn’t have asked such a question if he wasn’t prepared for the truth. “Chin up…?” he tried as he turned to Vlad again, giving him a weak smile and a thumbs up.

Vlad said nothing in reply, settling for a cold stare before turning away himself. He hadn’t had any hope that Jack might be supportive to begin with, but that reply was so pathetic that he couldn’t even glean any joy from watching Jack squirm. The resulting silence that stretched between them quickly became too much, and Vlad got to his feet. “I’m going for a walk,” he said, and he left it up to Jack on whether he had the nerve to follow or not.

Jack did follow him, after letting him walk ahead a few paces, and tailed him all the way down to the shore of the nearest duck pond.

A pair of swans swam past, along with several ducks that kept a respectful distance from their larger relatives. The breeze that meandered over the pond and stirred its surface was sharp enough to bite through Vlad’s suit. Part of him acknowledged that such would be a catalyst for getting a real couple to draw closer together for warmth, and so he ignored it.

“So you’re not supposed to feed them bread, huh?” Jack said.

Vlad looked over at him and noticed the sign he’d been reading, a handy infographic that pointed visitors away from bread and toward foods that were better suited for aquatic fowl, such as lettuce, frozen peas, and birdseed. “Well if you can’t convince people not to feed them to begin with, it’s best to tell them what you should feed them instead,” he acknowledged. Such an empty conversation. It left him as cold as the sharp spring breeze.

“I’ve been having fun spending time with you,” Jack said, perhaps to make up for his lackluster performance earlier. “Even though it’s not happening for the best reason, I mean,” he added.

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Vlad said. This charade of friendship was so tiresome without some other goal to occupy him. Part of him wished Jack would wise up already, even as another part wished it was easier to be around him. He did miss those college days, when he let himself be honest, but Jack was just so… Unreliable. Vlad couldn’t trust him not to cause the equivalent of a proto-portal accident all over again and then just make excuses and disappear like last time, if he even remotely acknowledged that he had some hand in it, anyway.

Jack seemed to get some sort of hint from Vlad’s lack of reciprocity and dropped the matter without comment. “I guess we’ve been out here long enough,” he said after more silence filled with the sigh of the breeze and the chatter of the ducks. “Should we head out?”

“Sounds good,” Vlad said. He turned, putting all his weight on the leg nearest to the pond.

The bank gave way under his foot and dumped him into the pond with a loud splash, scattering the nearby ducks and drawing the swan pair’s ire. They hissed and swatted at him with their wings a few times—Vlad covered his face to avoid a broken nose—before swimming off in a huff.

“Man, you have the worst luck sometimes,” Jack said, a sympathetic tilt to his brows as he helped Vlad out of the pond. “Your house blowing up, that ghost attack at the reunion, the proto-portal accident... You didn’t break any mirrors, did you?” Jack added, adding a small nervous chuckle to the question.

The final item on the list didn’t escape Vlad’s notice. He grit his teeth and glared at the grass between their feet as his anger flared to a roaring blaze. Just bad luck? Was that what he’d convinced himself it was? “Do you know how long I was stuck in the hospital after the accident, Jack?” Vlad asked, his gaze still on the grass.

“You said it was a few years,” Jack replied. Any humor in his voice was gone, replaced with a hesitant wariness.

“Five years,” Vlad said. “And do you know what it’s like to be infected with ecto-acne?”

“I mean, it’s pretty bad stuff. You and the kids were dying there for a bit, before we found the cure.”

“Ah yes, the diet cola component. However could that have gotten mixed into the proto-portal’s power signature, I wonder?” Vlad made a show of pondering on the question, one hand held to his chin as he did so. “It’s as if someone poured the wrong substance into the filtrator because they weren’t paying enough attention,” he said, noting Jack’s flinch as he spoke. “‘Pretty bad’, hmm? Those paltry little words fail to encapsulate what it was like to live with ecto-acne. It returned for monthly flare-ups after I got out of the hospital and every time I had to wonder... What function would I lose and for how long, and would it be the end of me this time?” Vlad paused for a humorless chuckle. “Ecto-acne. What an embarrassing, innocuous name for such a wretched illness.”

“Vlad?”

“What’s wrong? Haven’t you been wanting to talk to me?” At last Vlad looked up and met Jack’s eye. “Does this subject matter make you uncomfortable? I can’t imagine why.”

“Well it’s just, you shouldn’t dwell on the past, right?” Jack offered with an attempt at a smile. The worry was apparent on Jack’s face now, but Vlad took no pleasure in it. After all this time and all this pain, Jack still wanted to run away; to say that Vlad was disappointed by this was a gross understatement. “And besides, look at where you ended up! A genius billionaire, and you used your time in the hospital to plan it out.” Jack’s smile widened a little, despite the worry that still hung across his brow.

“And how lucky I was that those plans succeeded,” Vlad said smoothly. He was not letting Jack run away from this. Not this time. “After all, it wasn’t as if I could count on anyone else to help me out of the mountains of medical debt I was saddled with. Not family, not friends,” Vlad said the word with a special amount of venom, making Jack flinch again. He closed his eyes and lifted his head toward the sky. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened to me had my plans fallen through, and I always come to the same answer.” Vlad lowered his head and met Jack’s eye again. “I would’ve died, drowning in medical debt as I succumbed to a disease that had no cure.”

“I—” Jack reached out to Vlad, but stopped short of touching him. “Vlad, I would’ve helped you before that happened.”

“Oh please,” Vlad said, his voice cold. “We both know that’s a lie, Jack. You didn’t work for a cure until Danny’s friends were involved, and even then you couldn’t find it. I’m lucky that Danny was willing to go the distance for his friends. It’s such a shame that I can’t say the same of his father.”

“That’s not true,” Jack said, getting a little strength back in his voice. “I’m right here helping you now, aren’t I? I’ve been ready to help you get through this since the moment I heard about it.”

“Yes, I do admit that you’re eager enough when it comes to fixing problems you didn’t cause. I suppose I can commend you for that.” Vlad watched Jack for a few moments. “But there’s still something that’s bothering me about what you said earlier.”

“Which part...?” Jack asked, the worry returning in full force.

“So the proto-portal accident and all that came of it was just bad luck? Is that really what you think?” Vlad said, his words slow and deliberate.

“Well yeah, none of us expected it to blow up,” Jack replied with a shrug. “What else would it be?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Vlad said coldly, tapping one sodden shoe against the grass. The cold was a distant memory now, with the fire of anger burning hot in his chest. “I always saw it as an easily preventable accident.”

Jack held his hands palm-up in a placating gesture. “But we had no idea it would happen!”

“Maddie spotted the mistake in your calculations within seconds of seeing them.” Vlad kept his voice level, but the seething heat was making its way through, in the tension that made his neck and jaw ache. He couldn’t believe Jack was trying to pull this. As if the accident and the moments prior hadn’t played themselves back in Vlad’s head over and over as he lay in that hospital bed. “If you had taken even a moment to listen to her or to check your calculations it wouldn’t have happened.”

“But it was just an accident—”

“An accident does not preclude one from fault, Jack!” Vlad snapped. “If you hit someone with your car while speeding, you are at fault. If you drop something from a tall building and it hits someone on the sidewalk, you are at fault.” An angry heat poured off his face, and his breaths came quick and hot; the only thing missing was his heart pounding against his ribcage, though he was sure it was doing the same against the interior of the artifact even now. “And if you turn on an experimental portal device without so much as checking that the area is clear and giving no time for someone to get out of the way, you. Are. At. Fault!”

Vlad paused to catch his breath, surprised by his own vitriol. But he’d been waiting to say this to Jack for years, hadn’t he? He’d just hoped that Jack’s reaction would’ve been different...

“I mean, you shouldn’t have been standing so close to it to begin with...”

Vlad’s breath caught in his chest, as if he’d been kicked. He remembered that one, or rather, one of its kin, from the frantic minutes following the accident. The first words out of Jack’s mouth were excuses, attempts to pass blame, and what Jack just said had been among them. Never once had he admitted fault or apologized for what he’d done.

“You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” Vlad’s anger cooled somewhat, tempered by sorrowful disappointment. They would never see eye to eye on this, and Vlad would never get his resolution. It was time to give up on that. “No matter what happens, it’s never your fault.”

“I didn’t mean it, Vlad. You know that.” Jack’s tone had a gentle desperation to it. Vlad didn’t care to puzzle out what that desperation might be for. It certainly couldn’t be his friendship. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.” Vlad took a step back, and the cold of the breeze playing across his soaked suit crept back in. “You hurt me, and then you left me for dead and never looked back.” He turned, and started back up the hill. “I’m going home. We have nothing more to talk about.”

Vlad noticed Mitzi lurking under the shadow of a nearby tree. “Strike two,” he said as he passed her by. There was no point in trying to talk his way out of how this one ended. One more failure and it was off to Reginald, though part of him wondered if that might actually be preferable to the possibility of being stuck with Jack Fenton. He’d certainly found ghosts easier to exterminate than humans, and this Reginald had to have cracks in his armor...

~~~

Jack knew it wouldn’t help to follow Vlad. So instead he packed up the picnic and, after a brief check to make sure Vlad wasn’t still around and in need of a ride, drove himself home.

He had his answer now, the one he’d been dreading. Vlad didn’t see him as a friend anymore. The accident made sure of that. What he didn’t understand was why Vlad had to keep holding on to something that was so painful. Jack would be drowning in misery if he did that.

Jazz was in the living room when Jack walked through the front door. “Hey dad, how did the picnic go?” she asked.

“Badly,” Jack replied. He left the picnic basket by the door and dropped onto the couch.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Well I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Jack said with a shrug.

“So what happened?”

Jack sighed. “Vlad started talking about the accident, I can’t really remember why.” The start of the conversation’s descent was blurry, but Jack did remember mentioning bad luck… “He still hasn’t forgiven me for what happened. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Did you ever apologize...?”

“Of course I did!” Jack said defensively, then he stopped himself. “No, wait...” He tried to recall, then heaved a long sigh. “I don’t remember doing that right after the accident...”

“Then maybe you could start with an apology?” Jazz said with a hopeful smile.

“What’s that gonna fix? He already hates me,” Jack said, hanging his head.

“You’d be surprised,” Jazz replied. “That kind of acknowledgement can accelerate someone’s recovery after trauma. And it can put a relationship on better terms.”

“You really think so?”

Jazz sighed. “Dad, you do need to get better about apologizing anyway. Just in general. It’s kinda sad that it was such an outlier for you to apologize to mom about forgetting your anniversary last year, and it’s still an outlier now.”

Jack drooped against the couch. “I guess it’s worth a try... But how am I supposed to make it stick? I can’t just say the word with nothing else to back it up.”

“Well, you need to make it clear that you understand what you did wrong and try not to do that again. Part of the apology is you proving you can be better.”

“But what if I mess up again?” Jack asked hopelessly. He knew his track record, though he tried to ignore it; any attempt he’d made at changing his ways just hadn’t stuck.

“Then you make sure you stick around to fix things afterward.”

Jack reddened slightly with embarrassment. That was another way he’d failed Vlad, now that he thought of it. Twenty years of absence was magnitudes worse than forgetting his anniversary a bunch of years in a row. Who knew if it was even possible to fix their relationship at this point.

But at least he had some idea of where to go from here.

“Thanks, Jasmine,” Jack said, smiling as he put an arm around her shoulder. “You’re the best daughter a dad could ask for!”

“Guilty as charged!” Jazz declared, lifting her head high with a grin. “I hope things work out with you and Vlad. I think it could be really good for both of you to have an actual friend.”

“What? I have—” Jack struggled to name a friend he had other than Vlad, and came up with nothing. “I mean, Vlad probably has friends, right?”

Jazz laughed. “He does not act like he has friends,” she said, her tone dead serious.

“Well if I can salvage this maybe he’ll have one.” Jack’s spirits were lifting already, though the thought of his coming talk with Vlad made him nervous. He’d have to prepare... Or trust on instinct now that he had a better idea of what to do.

Jack stood and started off, then stopped short and swung back around to give Jazz a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks again, Jasmine.”

“No problem.” Jazz gave him a kiss on the cheek in turn. “What’re you gonna do now?”

“I’m gonna go try out my new kitchen skills with your mom!” Jack declared.

~~~

Jazz waited for her dad to leave the room before calling out the spy who’d been listening in on the conversation: “I know you’re there, little brother.” She opened one of her notebooks as Danny popped back into visibility and leaned on the back of the couch.

“You really think things’ll get better if they’re friends?” Danny asked, his eyes on the kitchen doorway.

“It’ll mean Vlad has less motivation to mess with us if he actually cares about dad,” Jazz replied. “Plus maybe he’ll stop doing the villain stuff as much once he feels better in general.”

Danny didn’t answer right away, his attention temporarily turned inward to his own thoughts. “Yeah, maybe.”

Jazz knew there was something on his mind and patiently thumbed through her notebook as she waited for him to share it.

“I guess dad really did mess things up back then, huh?” Danny said finally.

“Did Vlad tell you something new when you went to talk to him the other day?”

“Well, he implied that it was long and painful when he turned into a half-ghost.”

Jazz grimaced. “And that would be on top of dealing with ecto-acne.”

Danny ran his hands down his face with a groan. “Why am I the one having to deal with dad’s crazy ex-friend all the time? It’s so dumb.”

“If this goes well then maybe you won’t have to anymore,” Jazz said, smiling.

~~~

Vlad turned the conversation over in his head again and again. He’d been unusually direct with Jack, almost suicidally so given the stakes. He should’ve been able to handle himself better, should’ve been able to pretend everything was fine and make it through the trials without issue, but his emotions were getting in the way.

And he had an idea as to why.

He’d come to the realization after mulling things over in the shower and putting on his pajamas, and now he strode toward the sun room at the back of his mansion where he was sure he would find the ghost he had in mind.

“You did something to me,” Vlad said as he came to a halt next to the round glass table she was seated at.

“Of course I did,” Mitzi said with a smirk. “I took your heart, do you need me to refresh your memory on how to get it back?”

“Not that,” Vlad said. “It’s my emotions. You’ve done something to them, haven’t you?”

“Oh, that.” Mitzi lifted the artifact, giving Vlad a good view of his own heart. It still made him slightly queasy when he saw it. “It’s the artifact you were trying to steal from me, dear. It opens a person’s heart, metaphorically speaking.”

Vlad’s eyes widened. “You’re going to force me—”

“Into loving someone? That’s not what it does, darling,” Mitzi said. “By open I mean that you’re simply more honest about what you already feel.”

“So you were intending to sabotage me from the start.” That made sense, perhaps she’d brokered some sort of deal with this Reginald and then lured Vlad into messing with the artifact. It sounded like a typical ghostly scheme.

Mitzi gave a melodramatic sigh. “Now you’re just being silly again. You’d be surprised at what a little emotional honesty can do for a relationship. Perhaps you should try it more often.”

“That ‘emotional honesty’ made me fail today’s trial.”

“I never said you failed. You did that yourself.”

“I was only stating the obvious.”

“The obvious?” Mitzi leaned one arm on the glass tabletop before her and looked up at him. “My my, I never thought the illustrious Vlad Plasmius would turn out to be such a quitter.”

“A quitter?!” Vlad snapped, indignant. How dare she say such a thing. His track record was not that of a quitter! “I am not a quitter, madame!”

“Oh really?” Mitzi stood, bringing her face level with his own. “So what’s the matter, then? Is this Jack Fenton just too much for you to handle? Has he already won?”

“He has not—” Vlad’s face began to heat up. Just how much did Mitzi know? She couldn’t know that Jack had defeated him in a head to head fight once, he’d worked so hard to make sure no one found out about that! No, she had to be talking about the trials. “Jack Fenton has not defeated me!”

“So you say,” Mitzi said. “But given your attitude I can’t say I’m terribly convinced.”

Vlad’s eyes flashed red for a moment. “Then I’ll prove it. I won’t let him stop me this time.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear it. In that case, I’ve picked out your next trial.” Mitzi leaned back with a smirk. “And as for when it will happen...” She looked up as her pet drifted down through the ceiling and coiled itself around her shoulders, whispering something in her ear as it did so. “Ah, excellent!” She returned her attention to Vlad. “Tonight you will be sharing a bed with your to-be partner. What you do in it is up to you, but I expect the two of you to share it for the majority of the night.”

Vlad could feel the color draining from his face when he heard that. “Tonight? I don’t get more time to prepare?”

“You’re the great Vlad Plasmius, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll figure it out!” Mitzi declared with a grin.

~~~

The hour of the next trial arrived far too soon. Vlad let Jack in at around eight in the evening but was unable to manage more than a frigid smile. So despite his earlier enthusiasm he wasn’t able to push back the artifact’s effects. He would have to play this carefully if he intended to win.

Mitzi escorted them to the bed they would be using. Not Vlad’s own massive bed, but a queen size bed in one of the many guest rooms scattered around his mansion. So she intended for them to get cozy. Just lovely. Vlad could only hope that Jack was as uninterested in anything but sleep as he was.

Jack gave Vlad a nervous smile as Mitzi closed the door behind herself and left them alone. “Well this shouldn’t be too hard. We got plenty of practice back in college.”

The memories of those warm nights rose in Vlad’s mind, and he viciously kicked them back down into the abyss where they belonged. “I expect you to not shove me out of the bed by morning, then.”

“Sooo what do you normally do before bedtime, Vladdie?”

“I’m going to sleep early.”

“Oh, okay,” Jack said weakly.

Vlad climbed into bed and pulled up the covers.

Jack took the other side of the bed. It was too small to keep the two from touching each other—if they were going to both stay on the bed at the same time, anyway.

An expectant silence hung over them after Jack turned off the light on his side of the bed. He probably wanted to talk.

Vlad braced himself, his anger already rising. What more was there to talk about after what happened today? Jack would have nothing but more excuses. They were the last thing Vlad wanted to hear right now.

Jack inhaled as if to say something, but nothing came of it. He resumed his normal breathing for a while as Vlad listened and waited.

“Sorry, Vlad,” Jack said finally. “About today, and the accident. I’m gonna do better from now on.”

For a moment Vlad couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Jack Fenton, apologizing for something? Had Vlad fallen into a parallel universe without noticing?

Vlad couldn’t deny that he’d wanted an apology from Jack ever since the accident, but he let it hang in the silence between them regardless. There was always the chance that he didn’t mean it.

And there was something else Vlad wanted, too. The answer to a question that had cut at his heart ever since he’d first asked it.

“Why did you leave me behind?” Vlad asked, his tone more tired than anything else. “I needed your help.”

“You told me to get lost, so I did,” Jack said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, you mean while I was in severe pain and reeling from the shock of getting my face blasted by spectral radiation? And while my so-called best friend was giving endless excuses for why it wasn’t his fault?” Vlad glared at the far wall. Yes, he did remember telling Jack to kick rocks, but he’d only done that as a response to the stream of excuses Jack had flung at him following the accident. What he’d wanted was for Jack to go and think about what he’d done and come back later. He hadn’t meant forever.

“I tried to visit you at the hospital, but they wouldn’t let me in,” Jack added.

“They deemed it non-contagious a month after I was first admitted,” Vlad said. “You could’ve visited then.”

Jack had no immediate reply. “I was too scared to face you by then,” he said. “I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Funny. That’s exactly what you did by never showing up.”

“I know, I screwed up. I hurt my best friend cause I was careless. I made everything worse cause I was scared.” Jack heaved a long sigh. “I’d go back and change everything if I could.”

Vlad gave a humorless chuckle as Clockwork immediately came to mind. Best not to risk mentioning him though; with Vlad’s luck they’d both end up dead or with some other worse outcome. Jack meddling with the timeline was a thought too horrifying to entertain for long.

“And after I got out of the hospital?” Vlad asked.

“I did notice when you were making strides…” Jack admitted. “But I figured you had it handled, and how would that look if I only showed up then, right? So I decided to stay away until you decided you wanted me back.”

“I see.” Vlad couldn’t say whether he was satisfied with Jack’s answers or not. They sounded sincere enough, and they certainly weren’t meant to save face given that Jack had admitted to being a coward. A sort of numbness hung over Vlad now, coupled with a lighter feeling. As if something was no longer weighing him down.

“I still want to be your friend. I’ve really missed having you in my life, all these years... But I understand if you don’t want that, after everything.”

Vlad had no answer for him now. Twenty years of hate and resentment wasn’t something to be undone with one conversation... But said conversation could open up new avenues for them. It felt good to finally feel like he was being heard, that Jack was actually listening to him instead of bumbling endlessly on and assuming that everything was fine. Now he needed time to let everything sink in.

Perhaps the fact that he was even taking the time to consider the thought was a ray of hope.

So that issue needed time. Now to take care of the other thing that needed dealing with at the moment. Vlad pushed himself toward the center of the bed until his back made contact with Jack’s ribs.

“Vlad?” Jack asked, startled by the sudden move.

“The gap where the sheets hung between us was cold,” Vlad replied.

Jack gave a hesitant chuckle. “Yeah, I understand.”

~~~

Jack’s arm was draped over Vlad’s waist when he woke up the next morning. Vlad checked the time and found that it was a few minutes past seven. He slid out from under Jack’s arm and sat up, lingering on the edge of the bed. That was one of the best nights of sleep he’d had in years, though he hated to admit it. The human desire for contact wasn’t such an easy instinct to shake.

A strange unmoored feeling hung over him now, but he had to admit that it wasn’t a particularly unhappy feeling at least. Perhaps bewilderment might be a better descriptor. Had someone told him that Jack was capable of apologizing he wouldn’t have believed them, but he’d heard it with his own two ears last night. Jack was finally starting to acknowledge the gravity of what he’d done. There might be hope for them yet…

Movement on the other side of the bed derailed Vlad’s train of thought. Jack grunted as he did a full-body stretch, then flopped back against the bed again. “Wow, I slept great last night!” he declared as he sat up.

“I did as well,” Vlad said.

“So what now?”

“Call your family over. I think breakfast is in order.”

Jack grinned. “You got it, Vladdie!”

Where things could go next, Vlad wasn’t sure. He was content to watch and leave himself open for now.

~~~

Vlad and Jack walked abreast as they climbed the grand stone steps of Amity Park’s main museum. Jack had been eager for the new trial, though a tad hesitant for some reason. He finally spoke up as they walked into the main hall after buying their tickets.

“Hey, Vlad?”

“Something wrong?” Vlad asked as he turned to Jack.

“I’m not much of an art guy,” Jack replied, fidgeting by scratching at the back of his head. “I don’t think I really get it? So I probably won’t have anything interesting to say.”

“You don’t have to be an expert to enjoy art, Jack,” Vlad said. “Just look at it with an open mind, see where that takes you. There are plenty of other halls we can explore if you get bored.”

“Sounds good,” Jack said, giving Vlad a relieved smile. “Let’s do that first.”

The current seasonal art exhibit displayed a collection of paintings by Van Gogh and his contemporaries. Every last one was a replica due to the security concerns associated with Amity Park—too many ghost attacks to risk displaying the real thing. They wandered for a while until Vlad stopped before one particular painting, a snapshot of country life by Constant Troyon that depicted a group of farm workers next to a tree-ringed pond. Vlad stared into the painting for a while, taking in its details, and slowly the chatter of the museum patrons behind him fell away, replaced by birdsong and the contented clucking of chickens and distant conversation carried on the breeze…

“Find a good one?” Jack asked, snapping Vlad out of his imaginings.

“I can hear this one,” Vlad said, gesturing toward the painting with one hand.

“Uh—”

“Not literally,” Vlad said quickly. “Just look for a bit and try to imagine what this scene would sound like.”

“Hmm.” Jack stared at the painting for a while, his chin resting on one fist. “Oooh, I think I get what you’re saying,” he said finally. “It’s like it draws you in?” Jack squinted at it, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Are we sure this thing isn’t haunted?”

“I think it’s just doing the typical art routine. Plus, this is only a replica of the real one,” Vlad replied, a touch of genuine amusement to his smile. “Though I don’t doubt there are haunted paintings out there.”

“Yeah, maybe even ones like— What was that author again? His stuff was pretty creepy.”

“That’s a very broad category of authors, Jack.”

“Back in college, remember? That story about the painting that changed every time the guy looked at it?”

Vlad took a moment to plumb the depths of his memory, going back to those college nights when they had enough time between their studies to read to each other. “I think I remember the story you’re talking about. There was that undead creature that stole a baby, right?”

“Yeah! That’s the one,” Jack said, his enthusiasm building. “Maybe we could read that guy’s stories again.”

“But what was his name?” Vlad closed his eyes as he tried to remember. He knew the name he was searching for was a common one, but which…? “His stories had a bit of a Lovecraft feel to them, didn’t they?”

“Yeeaaah.” Jack paused, trying to recall the name as well. “Wasn’t he from before Lovecraft though?”

“Was it James?” Vlad guessed.

“Yeah!” Jack said with a grin. “I think you got it. M… M. R. James?”

“That does sound right,” Vlad said, then he grimaced as he recalled something else. “And I do recall getting some weird nightmares after reading some of those stories.”

Jack laughed. “Guess we should postpone picking those up again?”

“Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe it’s about the state of mind you’re in when you read them.”

“I’m kinda glad that ghosts aren’t like those stories after all. Not the ones I deal with, anyway.”

They both looked at the painting again. It was the same as when they’d looked before, and Vlad breathed an inward sigh of relief. He had enough on his plate without having a haunted painting to worry about.

They returned to wandering among the paintings until Vlad called Jack’s attention to Van Gogh’s Starry Night. “What do you think of this one?”

Jack looked self-conscious again as he turned to the painting.

“You don’t have to say anything profound,” Vlad told him. “Just think about how it makes you feel.”

Jack calmed under the assurance and let his eyes wander the painting for a while. “I mean, obviously it’s really pretty. I like that the brush strokes are really big.”

“Yes, it’s a style that Van Gogh is well known for.”

“It looks kind of like something from a dream, y’know?”

Vlad regarded the painting again. “You’re right, it does remind me of something I’ve seen in my dreams before.”

~~~

They enjoyed lunch in the museum’s food court, after which Vlad led the way to a hall that he was sure they would both enjoy.

Jack’s face lit up when he spotted the first dinosaur display, a bold triceratops posed with its head up and mouth open. “Now we’re talkin’!” he declared as he looked down the rest of the hall.

They strolled among the dinosaurs, admiring what the ancient beasts left behind and trying to imagine what their lives may have been like. As with the paintings no one wanted to risk letting the real thing get destroyed in a ghost attack, but they were casts of the original fossils and thus good enough.

“Hey, Vladdie,” Jack said as they looked over an allosaurus exhibit. “Do you think dinosaur ghosts are a thing?”

“I haven’t heard of any being found,” Vlad replied after some thought. He certainly hadn’t come across any, even in his extensive exploration of the Ghost Zone. “But the Ghost Zone is a truly vast dimension. Who’s to say that they don’t exist in some far-flung corner that rarely sees contact with more modern ghosts?”

“We should go look for them sometime!”

“Hah, maybe so,” Vlad said with a small smile. He had to admit that he’d love to see a dinosaur ghost as well, if they existed. “That would be quite an adventure, wouldn’t it?”

Accidental Marriage

Mitzi summoned them all to the sun room the following day. Vlad faced her with less trepidation than before, his usual anger toward Jack having faded to background noise since the apology. “I have decided on an optional trial for you to consider,” Mitzi declared as they gathered round. She lifted the artifact and placed it on the table before her. “If you pass this test of trust I will give you your heart back without complaint.”

“So what will it be, then?” Vlad asked, eying the artifact warily.

“Jack will take care of your heart for the next forty-eight hours. Accomplish this without incident and you will pass,” Mitzi replied. “So how about it? Do you trust him enough to give him your heart?”

Vlad broke out into a cold sweat as he considered it. The condition would guarantee an end to this whole matter in two days, but allowing Jack to watch over the artifact was...

His heart beat frantically within its glass prison.

“You don’t have to,” Jack said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I can keep doing this as long as it takes!”

“But we can’t let this whole mess burden us forever,” Vlad replied. He knew that even Jack would grow weary of having this ghost constantly disrupt his life in the name of the trials, no matter how much he liked spending time with Vlad. This was a sure way out, but the thought of literally putting his life in Jack’s hands terrified him.

“Do you need a moment to think about it?” Mitzi offered.

“I’m—” Vlad pressed his hand over his mouth as he agonized over it, thumb digging into his cheek and index finger pressing the opposite cheekbone. Jack had promised. Surely he could do this for two days, and there was no condition to keep Vlad from staying nearby for the duration. He could endure the anxiety for the next two days and then he would be free to figure out their relationship going forward, without Mitzi and her trials hovering over them. Yes, he could endure that. He’d suffered through far worse before.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Maddie said hesitantly. “Jack cares about you a lot, Vlad, but I don’t think he should be saddled with this.”

He distantly appreciated Maddie’s honesty. She knew Jack better than anyone, she was only being realistic.

But at the same time, he worried. There had been a spark of... Something, the previous day. A feeling he didn’t want to let go of. If the trials became a burden to Jack, and if that drove him away...

“Vlad, you don’t have to do this,” Jack said again.

At last Vlad lowered his hand and took a deep breath. “Do you want to do this, Jack?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

“It’s your heart, Vlad. You should decide—”

“I would like to take what you want into consideration before I make my choice,” Vlad said as he turned to him.

Jack brought a hand to his head, brow creased with worry as he considered Vlad’s question.

Vlad swayed slightly where he stood as he watched Jack. Everyone in the room was watching with him.

“I want to do it,” Jack said as he lowered his hand. “I’ll do it.”

“Very well.” Vlad turned to Mitzi. “Then I accept the terms of this trial and I look forward to getting my heart back in two days’ time.”

“Very good. Then hand it over to him and we will commence the trial.” Mitzi stood and passed the artifact to Vlad.

He stared down at his heart for a few long moments, the sight of its frantic rhythm only heightening his anxiety. Vlad turned to Jack, who looked every bit as worried as he felt. “I need you to take care of this, Jack.” It was difficult to speak, anxiety had his throat in a stranglehold. He pressed the artifact into Jack’s waiting hands. “Please don’t let me down.”

“I won’t,” Jack said, holding the artifact close to his chest. “I promise.”

“Best of luck to you both,” Mitzi said, looking very pleased with herself. “You may do as you please for the next two days.”

They left Mitzi in the sun room. Maddie stopped them as they walked through the library.

“So we do have the artifact in our possession now,” she said as she eyed it. “Maybe we could see if we can undo it ourselves—”

“No!” Jack and Vlad said in unison.

“It’s too risky,” Vlad said.

“If we mess up even a little it could kill him,” Jack added.

“Alright, you have a point,” Maddie said, a tad taken aback by how quickly the two had given their answer.

“I still can’t believe you actually gave it to him,” Danny said, staring at the artifact in shock. He looked up at Vlad. “What’s with you right now? Just, why?”

“I’m tired of this ghost’s antics and I decided to put a little faith in your father,” Vlad replied, annoyance creeping past the anxiety. “It’s just two days. We’ll be fine.”

~~~

They made it through the first day and night without issue. Vlad was always nearby throughout and only disappeared for brief stints to take care of his cats, as expected. Jack didn’t even see it as an insult to his abilities; Vlad was simply worried, as he had every right to be. He was really going the distance by trusting Jack with this after what happened twenty years ago.

And Jack, in turn, felt like he was going to lose his mind from the sheer anxiety of it all. If he messed this up Vlad could die. Even if Vlad didn’t die it would hurt him, and Jack so desperately wanted to avoid hurting him again. The artifact felt like a lead weight no matter how he carried it with him, while at once being something he assumed to be so delicate that he feared what would happen if he dropped it even a few inches onto any surface. Any time he lost sight of it for more than a few minutes he panicked, even if he was in fact holding it at the moment. In all it had been a miserable twenty-eight hours so far.

They’d made plans to watch a movie together earlier that morning. It was during preparations for heading over to Vlad’s house that Jack decided to hide the heart. Nightmare scenarios played themselves back in his head over and over, of him knocking the artifact off a table and breaking it or dropping it or some other accident, and so he decided that the best way to keep it safe would be to store it under lock and key.

Key code, anyway. Jack opened up the ghost-proof safe and carefully placed the artifact inside, then muttered the code under his breath as he punched it in—they’d be in just as much trouble if he forgot how to get back into the safe, after all.

Jack was already feeling better as he walked away from the safe. It would survive even if FentonWorks were to collapse on top of it—in fact Vlad’s heart would be the least of their worries if that were to happen. They’d only have to dig it out of the rubble and open it in that scenario.

An unfamiliar ghost slid down from the wall where it had been spying on Jack, invisible and unnoticed. It approached the safe with the numbers for the code still in its mind. Its master would be very pleased with this prize.

Vlad let Jack in as soon as he knocked on the door. “Jack,” he began when he noticed something was missing. “Where is—”

“I was worried about dropping it, so I locked it up in a ghost-proof safe,” Jack said proudly.

“Ah.” Vlad relaxed a little. “Not a bad idea, actually. Better than carrying it around.”

They took their time picking out snacks for their Back to the Future movie marathon, chatting away aimlessly about other movies they might want to watch together all the while. Vlad had an indoor theater that they could use, but instead they chose a more comfy setup in the den. There they sat sharing a couch among the dark hardwood furniture and shelves of books and antiques, a snack-laden coffee table sitting between them and the widescreen set into the wall.

The movie was well underway when a ghostly presence filled the room. They both jumped to their feet, ready for the intruder, when the ghost appeared between them and the widescreen tv.

“Greetings, Vlad,” the ghost said in a bellowing, slightly metallic voice. He was clad in a full suit of armor with a helmet that displayed its owner's blocky face across its visor, and a necklace of large multi-colored gems rested across his breastplate. “Today you will have the honor of giving me, the great Reginald, your hand in marriage!”

Jack and Vlad shared a look for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“What makes you think he’ll say yes, ghost?” Jack raised an ecto-blaster that he’d stowed away in a pocket and noted that Vlad had taken one from within his coat as well.

“Yes, what indeed? I’m not intending to marry anyone at the moment,” Vlad added.

“Such insolence,” the ghost said with a scowl. “I’ll rephrase it, then.” He lifted his deep red cloak and retrieved an object from within—the artifact, with Vlad’s heart still inside. “Give me your hand in marriage or I’ll crush your heart under foot. Is that more clear?”

Jack’s whole body went cold upon seeing the artifact. How? When had that ghost—

“Come on, now,” the ghost said with a smirk. “I don’t have all day.”

Vlad lowered his weapon and let it fall to the floor. He gave Jack a look of utter betrayal, eyes wide with fear and face pale. “I can’t believe I trusted you,” Vlad said quietly. He stared at Jack for a few more moments, then slowly walked over to the ghost and stood beside him.

“Very good. Let us be off, then.” The ghost swept his cloak around and the two, one of the gems on his necklace glowing intensely as they vanished in a swirl of scarlet energy.

The light returned to normal. The movie continued as it had been doing throughout the encounter, so thoroughly ignored that it might as well have been on mute. Jack slumped back onto the couch and let the weapon fall from his hand, his fingers numb with shock.

He’d failed. Things had been going so well, only for him to ruin their chances in the second half. Some ghost had Vlad in its clutches and who knew what horrors it had planned for him.

And the way Vlad looked at him...

Jack surged to his feet, fists clenched as he drew himself up. No, it wasn’t over until he ran away and hid like he’d done last time. He’d get Vlad back if it was the last thing he did.

Again the lighting of the room shifted as another ghost drew near. Jack swept up his gun again and prepared for a fight.

Any hope that the ghost might’ve come back for a rematch was dashed when Mitzi appeared before him. “What is going on?” she demanded. “Why has my artifact just appeared in the Ghost Zone?”

“You!” Jack snapped as he pointed his ecto-blaster at her. “You were in cahoots with that ghost, weren’t you? You were gonna hand Vlad over to him all along!”

“What ghost?” Mitzi asked as she glared down at him. “And put that thing away while I’m talking to you!”

The ermine ghost flowed from her shoulders in a flash and wrapped itself around Jack’s arms, yanking them down to keep the ecto-blaster away from Mitzi.

“Hey!” Jack struggled against the ghost, only for it to wind itself around his body and pin his arms to his sides instead.

“Now tell me what happened,” Mitzi said, a little calmer now. “What did this ghost look like?”

Jack’s ire cooled a little; Mitzi would already know what the ghost looked like if she was working with him, after all. “Big, wearing some kind of techno armor with a cloak, said his name was Reginald...”

“Oh dear.” Mitzi looked embarrassed. “Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Let’s go find your family. We’re going to need all hands on deck to deal with this and I don’t want to repeat myself.”

~~~

Vlad woke up on a dais. Reginald had done something to force him to fall asleep soon after they arrived in his lair, he had no idea how much time had passed between then and now.

The dais had been built within an elaborate ballroom with sweeping arches and tall windows that gave clear views of the swirling eddies of the Ghost Zone beyond. Red garlands and sharp white flowers like fragments of bone decorated every inch of the place, giving it an elegant but hostile feel. A crowd of ghosts milled around the room, most of them of the skeletal variety, finely dressed in black and shades of gray. They had been invited to a very special occasion.

Vlad looked down at himself and found that they’d left him in his usual suit for the occasion, either because it was already fancy enough or because he wouldn’t last long enough to merit something nicer.

He had no idea how he would make it out of this. Reginald had not let on to what he planned after marriage, but given that he held all the power in this situation it couldn’t be good. That the ghost might simply kill him immediately after the vows were said was a distinct possibility. There just wasn’t enough time to figure a way out of this...

“Welcome to the rest of your life, sleeping beauty,” Reginald said with a smirk. He stood across from Vlad on the dais and now wore a suit of gaudy gold armor with a red cloak and accents, the artifact hanging from his belt. “Enjoy it while you can.”

The rest of the proceedings passed in a blur—Vlad was oscillating between panic and being consumed by thoughts on how to escape and took no notice as the dusty lich in robes mumbled the vows they would be agreeing to.

“Well, what say you?”

Reginald’s voice snapped Vlad back to the present. He looked up, and Reginald patted the artifact at his belt once he had his attention. Would it even be worth delaying in the hopes that he’d figure something out before Reginald had the chance to dispose of him afterward? Wouldn’t it be better to die now before the wretched ghost could lay claim to everything he owned?

“Just say what’s on here, and the name of the one you would bind yourself to,” the officiator said as he passed an ancient-looking piece of paper to Vlad.

The vows were surprisingly simple. Apparently ghosts didn’t like to waste time on such things, though they had a far longer span of existence to look forward to than average humans did.

Reginald wrapped his fingers around the glass globe at the artifact’s center, his hand big enough to nearly hide the heart within. He would crush it if Vlad didn’t obey.

Naked survival instinct pushed Vlad into reading the vows aloud: “In all the vastness of the Ghost Zone there is but one I wish to bind myself to, power and soul.” Vlad shuddered a little as Reginald took his hand away from the artifact; apparently he would wait a bit before doing the deed, once the vows were said. The thought made him feel sick. “With them I will share all triumphs and failures, all joys and sorrows. Together we will face eternity. This I promise to you—”

A black-gloved hand dropped onto the artifact, attached to an arm clad in an orange hazmat suit.

“—Jack Fenton!?” Vlad stared in shock as Jack threw off the rest of his potted plant disguise and grabbed at the artifact with his other hand as well.

“That’s right, Vladdie!” Jack said with a grin, ducking under a punch from Reginald as he did so. “I’m gonna get you outta here! And I brought the whole family to help!”

An explosion went off on the far side of the room. Bits of wedding cake flew through the air, splattering onto guests and decorations, as Maddie stepped through the smoke with a Fenton Bazooka in her hands and started firing on the guards.

The guests scattered as the skeletal guards started pouring in.

Back on the dais a tug of war had broken out between Jack and Reginald. Each had both hands on the artifact and was trying to swing the other off of it.

“You might want to be a little more careful with that!” Vlad said, wincing as he watched the two swing around again. It was a wonder they hadn’t pulled it apart yet.

“Wretched oaf! Just what do you think you’re doing?” Reginald said as he tried to kick at Jack and missed. “Now I’ll have to go through a mountain of paperwork to get the next wedding set up!”

“I’m saving my best friend!” Jack declared. He blocked a kick from Reginald with his own boot and pushed him back. “We’re going home, whether you like it or not!”

“Best friend?” Reginald laughed. “That is funny. Do you have any idea who you’re trying to save?”

“Quit trying to mess with me, ghost!” Jack glared at him over the top of the artifact. “It won’t work!”

The sick feeling that had been driven away by Jack’s arrival returned. No, he wouldn’t—

“Why don’t I show you.” Reginald turned a dial near the top of the artifact with his thumb.

—a painful jolt of power surged through Vlad. The black transformation ring appeared without his bidding and split, revealing his ghost form and his secret.

Jack stared at Vlad in shock, though his grip on the artifact never wavered. “What...? Vlad?”

Vlad instinctively wanted to hide his face from Jack, for what little good that would do. The sudden wave of shame and fear mixed into a heavy feeling of nausea in the pit of his stomach. This was not how he’d wanted any reveal to go.

Reginald let out a long laugh. “Hasn’t your so-called friend attacked you before? And I recall him putting out a call for ghosts who would be willing to go after you in the past as well. Some friend he is.”

“But, why did you do it?” Jack asked, his eyes still on Vlad. Pleading, probably for some explanation that would keep his worst assumptions from being proven right.

Vlad could think of no lie that would satisfy those terms. Not in such a short amount of time, anyway. So he settled for the miserable truth. “Because I was angry, and stupid, and selfish,” Vlad replied as he looked away. “I thought getting back at you would make me feel better, but it never did.”

Reginald tried to wrench the artifact out of Jack’s hands, only to find that the man still had as firm a grip on it as ever.

“But we were having such a good time at the museum...” Jack said, the pleading look replaced by sadness. To Vlad’s surprise it made him feel even more sick to see it.

“I did have a good time with you then. Things got... A bit easier after you finally apologized,” Vlad said. He looked up at Jack again and took a deep breath. Ever since he’d started feeling better around Jack he’d known that this was likely to come up. If only it had been under lighter circumstances. “And I also need to apologize for what I’ve—”

An ecto-blast bursting over the rug at his feet interrupted any further discussion. Vlad staggered back and looked up at the source, finding Maddie on the other end with her ecto-rifle still raised and ready to fire.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone, Vlad? I always knew there was something rotten about you.” Maddie took aim, her finger closing around the trigger. “I suggest you start running.”

Anxiety turned to cold gut-wrenching fear as Vlad focused his full attention on Maddie. His ghost form might be a little stronger after the power injection, but he was still too weak to even conjure a shield, let alone try to fight her off. If she caught him he’d be done for.

Vlad darted forward, intending to duck past Jack and Reginald, only for a shot from Maddie to shatter the ornate vase ahead of him and drive him back in the opposite direction.

“What? No! You can’t kill him until he’s bound himself to me!” Reginald howled. “Guards! Protect him!” One of the gems on his necklace flared green as he gave the order.

The skeleton guards that had been pouring into the room to fight the Fentons turned and focused their attention on blocking Maddie’s shots or lunging at her once they got close.

“Maddie? Maddie, no!” Jack released the artifact and dashed over to his wife. “Maddie don’t kill him! Please!”

“Not now, Jack. I’m busy.” Maddie paused just long enough to swing Jack to the floor in a controlled throw and resumed her onslaught. “Kids, restrain your father and watch my back.”

“Wh—” He sat up, and was immediately hit and tied up by his own Jack o’ Nine Tails.

“Sorry, dad!” Jazz said, giving him an apologetic wave before activating her Fenton Peeler and shooting down a charging ghost. 

Guard after guard fell as Maddie fired, her shots always scattered around Vlad’s current location.

Vlad overturned a table for cover and darted behind it. Maddie blasted holes in it behind and ahead of him, forcing him to break cover while she paused to reload.

“Maddie! At least let him explain himself!” Jack struggled against his bonds, trying to get free, and only succeeded in falling over.

“He had sooo many chances to explain himself before now,” Maddie replied as she raised her rifle again. Rather than fire she took an ecto-grenade from her belt pouch, pulled the pin, and hurled it into the cluster of guards that were trying to get between her and the target.

Vlad was moving before the grenade had a chance to bounce a second time. It exploded directly behind him, close enough that it knocked him into a roll that left him on his back.

With a yelp he scrambled back to his feet and started running again as another shot from Maddie’s rifle knocked out the guard just behind him.

“Maddie, stop!” Jack said, wincing as Vlad dodged another shot.

“Don’t worry about it, Jack,” Maddie replied as she fired another round of shots that dropped yet more guards near Vlad. “You’ll thank me later, I promise.”

“Kids!” Jack turned to Jazz and Danny instead, who were watching Maddie’s back as she’d asked.

“Dad, it’s gonna be fine,” Danny asked as he reeled in the Jack o’ Nine Tails and prepared for another shot; both he and Jazz were dressed in hazmat suits like their parents, a sight that had made Jack proud beyond words as they were setting out on the rescue. “Vlad’s not gonna die.”

Jack tried wriggling out of the cords again and found that they were starting to loosen.

At last the stream of guards slowed, and Maddie finished off the last few as Vlad’s frantic flight brought him to the dais again.

Vlad lost his footing and hit the floor hard, the last of his energy long spent. He lifted his head to find Maddie standing over him—she’d thrown Jack to the floor yet again to give herself time to dash over. The sight was enough to make his heart feel as if it was trying to escape his ribcage.

“Any last words, Vlad?” Maddie asked as the whine of a charging ecto-rifle filled the air between them.

“I wish I’d just talked to Jack to begin with.” Vlad screwed his eyes shut and waited for the end, too tired to escape.

Reginald snatched the rifle by its barrel and lifted Maddie into the air. “Enough of this! You will stop—”

Maddie kicked off his chest, dropping the rifle and drawing an ecto-blaster instead as she vaulted through the air. Three well-placed shots shattered the gems on Reginald’s necklace before she even touched the ground.

“No!” Reginald dropped the rifle and staggered back. “How did you—”

Jack scrambled over to them, having finally gotten back to his feet, and threw himself over Vlad. “Maddie, I know you’re mad—”

Maddie straightened and breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry, Jack. I’m not going to shoot him.”

“You’re not?” Jack sat up, still clutching Vlad in both arms.

Vlad clung to Jack like a terrified cat, returning to human form as he sat up. “But you just—”

“Used you as the perfect distraction, yes,” Maddie replied with a sunny smile. “Thank you for doing such a good job, by the way. Your abject terror was very convincing.”

Jack and Vlad shared a glance—they were both blushing.

“The three of us are going to have a long talk after all this, though,” Maddie added, her eyes sharp as she glared at Vlad. 

“Yes, Maddie.” For once he wasn’t looking forward to being able to talk to her.

“I’m just glad you’re alive!” Jack blubbered, and buried his face in Vlad’s neck as he started crying in earnest.

There was no response Vlad could think to give right now, save for sheer bewilderment. Even after discovering how hostile Vlad had been to him, he still cared enough to cry over almost losing him. The blush that settled on Vlad’s face was one of embarrassment this time. Perhaps he had been taking Jack for granted, at least a little. It really was amazing, the work that a sincere apology could do.

Vlad looked up at Maddie again. “Were you planning to attack me all along? And was that really necessary? Just look at the state Jack’s in now.” His coat was going to be quite soggy after this.

“Oh that was spur of the moment,” Maddie replied. “Our original distraction got derailed, so I had to think fast. This one worked even better than the one we originally had planned.”

“Distraction for what—”

“How dare you ignore me!” Reginald hauled himself to his feet, the artifact clutched in one hand. “You’ll pay for such insolence! If I can’t have him then no one can!” He hurled the artifact to the floor. It shattered on impact, leaving a pile of fractured metal and broken glass behind.

A shot from Maddie knocked Reginald to the ground once again, his suit twitching as its electronics glitched from the damage.

Vlad let out the gasp he’d taken as Reginald threw down the artifact. He was alive, to his immense shock. Pale and shaken, to be sure, but alive. And currently having his ribs ground to dust from how tightly Jack was hugging him again.

Reginald lifted his head, the terrible grin on his face falling when he realized that Vlad was still very much alive. “How?!” Reginald cried as he stared at the remains of the artifact. “That should’ve killed you outright!”

“I returned his heart while you were all so distracted by the chase.” Mitzi stepped out from behind one of the scarlet curtains and sauntered over with a smirk on her face. “Maddie made it quite easy with her clever little play. Excellent work, darling,” she added with a nod to Maddie.

“I do admit that it was cathartic watching Vlad run for his life,” Maddie said. She turned to Vlad, her smile dropping as she added, “I might not have been trying to hit you, but I’m still very angry over what you’ve done.”

Vlad drooped a little under the force of her glare. “And we’ll talk later, I understand.”

Jack breathed out a long sigh of relief, his face still pale from watching the artifact shatter. “I guess it’s over now.”

“Yes, it seems so.” Vlad pushed at Jack, who released him. With a sigh Vlad got to his feet and straightened his coat. The blush was back, and now he couldn’t find the words for what he wanted to say. “This probably sounds meaningless after all that’s happened, but I’m sorry for the whole, sending ghosts after you and all of that. I’m honestly not sure why you’re willing to give me another chance.”

“I’m not sure you really meant it,” Jack said with a shrug as he stood.

“Huh?” Vlad stared at him. That did not compute.

“Well I mean, if you were really trying to kill me why didn’t you just hire a human hitman? I never would’ve seen that coming,” Jack said, his tone suggesting that this should’ve been obvious.

“Yes, I was wondering the same,” Maddie added. “Honestly that’s one of the reasons I didn’t just shoot you on sight for what you’ve done. Of all the things you send after Jack, it’s ghosts? It’s like you were trying to fail.”

“Well I—” Vlad had gone completely red now. The whole thing made him feel downright stupid. “I don’t know, I just never thought to use anything other than ghosts.” Had he really been holding back this whole time without realizing it? Was that why he’d failed time and again when it came to disposing of Jack? 

“And didn’t ghosts stop showing up to kill dad after he kicked your butt that one time?” Danny asked with a smirk.

“That was a fluke!” Vlad snapped, his ears burning. “I lost because I was tired!”

Jack burst out laughing. “That was a great fight! Maybe we could do it again sometime!”

“Absolutely not!” Vlad snapped. His ego couldn’t take another loss like that. Even after getting the Skeleton Key he’d still suffered momentary stabs of humiliation over having lost to Jack Fenton in a head to head fight.

“If everyone could settle down for a moment.” The officiator glided over, his feet hidden under the length of his robes—or perhaps he had no feet to speak of. “There’s still the matter of the vows.” He turned to Jack. “Do you accept this half-ghost, Jack Fenton?”

“Well yeah, of course I do! He’s my best friend!” Jack declared. He pulled Vlad into a side-hug, eying the officiator with suspicion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then congratulations,” the officiator said, satisfied. “You’re married.” He then tossed a handful of confetti over the two and started toward the remains of the dessert table.

Everyone watched him in stunned silence as his words sank in.

“Wait, what do you mean we’re married?!” Vlad pushed away from Jack and dashed after the officiator.

“But I’m already married!” Jack said, looking worried and bewildered as he trotted after them. “This doesn’t cancel the first one out, right?”

The officiator stopped to address them, looking annoyed. “It’s a separate affair, it doesn’t interfere with any Earth marriages you might have.” He turned to Vlad. “You said the vows that opened the contract, and your partner here sealed it with his agreement.”

“And if we want to undo it—”

“Well you’ll have to complete the paperwork and the rituals to undo the binding,” the officiator replied. He squinted at them for a few moments as he thought it over. “It’s going to be difficult given that only one of you is part ghost, though.”

Vlad groaned and covered his face with one hand.

“Don’t worry about it, Vladdie! We’ll figure it out,” Jack said as he put a hand on Vlad’s shoulder. “As long as Maddie is understanding,” he added with a nervous laugh.

“You really think I’m going to acknowledge a ghost-marriage as valid?” Maddie asked as she joined them. “And on the bright side, maybe it’ll help reign in Vlad’s more...” She gave him a look. “Annoying tendencies.”

“Maddie—!”

She cut him off. “Also if anything does happen to Jack, I know exactly who I’ll be blaming first.”

“Maddie stop, we both know he wouldn’t do that!” Jack said, pulling Vlad close again.

“Or couldn’t,” Danny added. “Vlad’s kinda incompetent, let’s be real.”

“Oh shut up!” Vlad snapped, only to receive an even bigger smirk from Danny in return.

“Guess Mitzi’s plan worked out,” Jazz said with a knowing smile. “Though I’m not really sure how well getting dad and Vlad to team up will work out for the Ghost Zone...”

“Yeah yeah, keep being smug that you figured it out before anyone else,” Danny said with a roll of his eyes.

“Plan?” Vlad turned to Jazz. “What plan?”

“She wanted to get you and dad to reconnect all along so you’d stop causing trouble in the Ghost Zone,” Jazz replied. “That’s why she set up the trials the way she did.”

“That’s right,” Mitzi added as she joined them. “Even down to making the artifact and spreading rumors about it that would get your attention, and convincing you that you’d said Jack’s name while you were panicked about losing your heart.”

Vlad blushed with embarrassment yet again. It was one thing to play him for a fool, quite another to brag about it in front of an audience.

“Come now, darling, you should be happy. You finally heard what you needed to and set foot on the right path. Isn’t that worth all the hardship?”

Vlad gave her the biggest scowl he could manage, fists clenched at his sides.

“You’ll thank me one day,” Mitzi said knowingly. “For now though, I think it’s time we said goodbye.”

“Should we do anything about Reginald before we go?” Maddie asked, casting a glance at the ghost.

Vlad glowered at the ghost and pulled himself from Jack’s arms. “I think a little extra punishment is in order for him trying to force me to marry him, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, even you wouldn’t go so low as to do that,” Maddie said. Vlad was beyond tired of getting sniped like this, but perhaps he did deserve it. “Let’s show him what happens when he messes with us.”

“That might not be necessary,” Mitzi said, gesturing to a small group of ghosts who had just entered the room. They had their eyes fixed on Reginald and violent thoughts in mind given the way they glared at him. “Those ghosts were bound in service to him by that necklace. They’re quite unhappy with him, so perhaps you should leave it to them. You have more important matters to attend to anyway.”

~~~

The ride home in the Specter Speeder was quiet. At last it glided through the Fenton Portal and coasted to a stop in the lab.

“Woo! Home sweet home!” Jack said as he swung the hatch open and stepped into the lab.

“Not bad for a day trip,” Maddie added as she hopped out after him. “And as for our talk, Vlad—”

Vlad sighed. “Can it wait for now? It’s not like I can get away from you,” he said. He was still tired, despite having his full power back; the sheer stress of everything had taken its toll, and he was in no condition to be having an intense conversation at the moment. 

Maddie considered it. “Fine. We’ll put it off until tomorrow, then.”

“Glad to have you back, V-man!” Jack pulled Vlad into another hug, and Vlad let him.

“Yes, glad to be back, Jack,” Vlad said. He resisted the urge to rest his head against Jack’s shoulder. “Thank you for saving me back there. It seems I can put a bit of trust in you after all.”

Jack looked at him with surprise. “Even though—”

“Yes, even though you caused it. You actually came back and helped fix things, and for that I’m grateful,” Vlad said, giving Jack a sincere smile.

“Gross!” Danny said, completely ruining the moment—likely on purpose.

Vlad glared at him. “Get used to it, Little Badger,” he said, smirking as he draped an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “Oh, and be ready for me to make him even more embarrassing than usual. You’ve been warned.”

“Send him back,” Danny growled.

“Aw, cheer up, Danny! You have a super-powered uncle now!” Jack said with a grin. “Just think of all the fun things you could do together!”

“Let’s put a pin in that until after we’ve had our little chat,” Maddie said. “But for now let’s take it easy. Things have definitely been interesting lately.”

“Hey, we should finish watching Back to the Future!” Jack said. “That stupid ghost interrupted us earlier.”

“That he did. Sounds like a good idea to me,” Vlad replied.

“I’ll get the snacks going!” Jack declared, and he dashed up the stairs to the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t mind watching it again, so I’ll join you,” Maddie said, smiling as she followed Jack out of the lab.

“You have a lot of stuff to answer for, Vlad,” Danny said before Vlad could leave the lab. “I’m not gonna let you off easy.”

Vlad turned to him. “Yes, I will have to work on that,” he said. In truth he was dreading more than a few of those, especially the clones. Maddie just might try to kill him when she found out about that... “But for now I suppose you’ll be down an arch-nemesis. I do hope you don’t get bored.” Vlad cleared his throat. This was all so terribly embarrassing. “Sorry for... All of that. I’ll prove to you that I mean it.”

“You’d better,” Danny said, arms crossed over his chest. “Cause if mom finds out even a fraction of the stuff you’ve been doing to us, you’re dead.”

“Just think of this as extra incentive in your rehabilitation,” Jazz said with a sunny smile. “Don’t let us down.”

Vlad forced a smile. They were absolutely going to use this to blackmail him. He had no doubt. “Well then, I look forward to working with you both.” 

[gashface]

Hey team,

Great to see you all out there on the field, submitting incredible edits this week! WOWIE! Thank you all for your time and thought spent on this week's edits, all of them were great!

Before we get to the results, we bid farewell to two of our beautiful models.

Mandy by @skaterboisims

And

Dawn Pepper by @bigppton-jpeg

Thank you for entering the competition, while it is sad to see you guys go, we wish you nothing but the best <3

Now onto the results! This week I was looking for themes based around the idea of a "homerun" This could be sports or even something outside the box with this phrase.

Charline Morel by @cyazurai

Baseball is one of the few sports where a fan has the opportunity to take away a physical memory. A moment frozen in time, in the form of a baseball. When a foul ball sails through the air, up, up over the heads of players and fans alike, an excited fan has the opportunity to pluck it straight out of the air (as long as it doesn’t crash into their face first). Some bring catcher’s mitts to increase their odds of being The One to catch the ball, and others improvise with baseball caps. Some are young, some are old, but the wonder in their eyes is all the same. Because that ball is undeniably special - it was a part of the action. A piece of the game, broken free, for someone to catch. Something that almost every player has interacted with - even the team you aren’t there to see. That ball embodies the hopes and dreams of every player on that field, as well as every single fan in the stands, and when a fan catches it they feel a rush of emotion. Excitement. Joy. Disbelief. Then they have the choice whether to keep that joy and excitement all to themselves, or give it away to a younger fan and spread the joy. No matter what, catching a foul ball can be a magical experience for fans, and make them feel like they were the ones to hit the Home Run.

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 5/10

STORY: 8/10

EXECUTION: 9/10

STYLE: 8/10

Parker Winston by @morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy

As a vampire hunter, I like to get a little creative with my weapons. A silver barbed bat might not be the most effective, but it pisses of the vamps, it amuses the hell outta me, and hey they call me a vampire bat for a reason. Also, for those wondering; yeah, I pitch as good as I hit ;) Swing batter, batter! - Parker &lt;3

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 5/10

STORY: 7/10

EXECUTION: 9/10

STYLE: 8/10

Ember Arendse by @wolfrynn313

Ember: "When I saw this week's prompt I thought: Well I don't know my way around a 'Homerun!', but I do know my way around a K.O! My Dad made it his personal mission to make sure that my brothers and I knew how to defend ourselves should we ever need to. I decided to have some action shots taken f.t my younger brother Phoenix." (Disclaimer, no siblings were harmed in the making of this shoot)

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 8/10

STORY: 7/10

EXECUTION: 7/10

STYLE: 6/10

Babylon Fleur Beppu by @everythingtapioca

Babylon, a petite girl with a fiery spirit, had an unbreakable love for basketball. Despite her size, she dribbled with determination, her tiny frame swiftly dodging towering opponents. The court became her sanctuary, where she defied stereotypes and soared through the air like a shooting star. Every bounce of the ball echoed her dreams. With relentless dedication, she practised tirelessly, her passion igniting a fire within. And when the final buzzer sounded, Babylon's unwavering spirit shone brightly. She may have been small, but her love for the game was colossal. In the world of basketball, she stood tall, inspiring others to reach for the stars.

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 8/10

STORY: 6/10

EXECUTION: 7/10

STYLE: 7/10

Eli Sims by @simsinfinitylt

Eli Sims, a renowned model, was photographed this morning enjoying the Mt. Komorebi mountains. Onlookers can confirm she was like a pro in the board, and everyone was very impressed. It seems Ms Sims was so confident in her skill she was riding the Ludicrous section of the mountain. In other news, after 6 years of the disappearance of Elizabeth Gil, daughter of the owners of Gil Fashion House, her parents are now addressing the matter and they have declared they hired a private investigator to look for their daughter.

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 8/10

STORY: 5/10

EXECUTION: 8/10

STYLE: 9/10

Dillion Carter @mewo-ita

(Home run as in running away inside your home) A once cheerful and beloved doll, Penny Cheerful— is possessed by an entity taking on the appearance of a cake accessory. Her soul is snuffed as it uses the doll’s body to rampage the other toys, causing them to run away in terror from both their former best friend and their toybox home.

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 10/10

STORY: 8/10

EXECUTION: 7/10

STYLE: 8/10

Su-Yen by @dododoesstuffs

I wanted to do a skateboard but I could find good stuff and I still had some skates. So why not combine two of Su-Yen’s hobbies, dancing and skateboarding, and do dancing on skates.

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 8/10

STORY: 5/10

EXECUTION: 6/10

STYLE: 7/10

Good work everyone! I was very impressed with everyone's edits, once again I want to emphasise please don't let a number define you~! I want people to think outside the box and just have fun ya know! Thank you to everyone who submitted this week, it was so lovely reading all the stories and just seeing how creative you all are~

INFORMATION FOR THE NEXT PROMPT WILL BE RELEASED AROUND 10:00PM AEST 1ST OF JUNE

This week's prompt hint!

That's all guys! Can't wait to see what everyone does for WEEK 3

- Buddy

[tsumune]

haikyuu boys get glasses

features: atsumu, osamu

tags: fluff, ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗᵉˢᵗ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ

a/n: atsumu’s part is inspired by @/zan_miya’s art on ig!

miya atsumu

atsumu is stubborn

he often stays up watching volleyball matches on his phone in the dark

you and osamu have both warned him about his habits before, but he just brushes it off

finally, it’s time for his yearly eye checkup

“this isn’t fair! why doesn’t ‘samu need glasses too!” atsumu complains while seated in the black leather chair of the optometrist’s office.

“because i don’t spend all day and night glued to my phone watching volleyball matches,” osamu replies with an exasperated side eye to his brother.

atsumu groans and slumps further down his chair. the optometrist, bless him for putting up with the miya twins, tells him he can go and pick out a pair of glasses when he’s ready.

“help me pick a good pair, ‘samu.”

osamu snickers to himself as he picks out the tackiest pair he can find: thick, bright orange frames.

“wow, these aren’t bad,” atsumu says as he takes and examines them. osamu is about to shoot his brother a disgusted look when atsumu whacks him over the head.

“take this seriously! this has to fit well with my public image. i’ll treat ya to a meal if you find a better pair than me.”

of course atsumu finds a way to make this into a competition, but osamu knows he’s just as competitive and they begin searching the racks in earnest. finally, osamu comes across a pair that are genuinely pretty good.

“those don’t look half bad on ya, ‘tsumu.”

“really? then ya should wear a pair with me!”

“no.”

“aw come on-“ osamu walks off in the middle of atsumu’s unconvincing whining and starts heading for the front desk, atsumu trailing behind dejectedly.

-

“babe! what’s taking you so long to get ready?” you call out to your boyfriend in the bathroom. atsumu gives a muffled “i’ll be done soon!”, but he doesn’t move just yet. he stares at his reflection, black frames sitting comfortably on his face. atsumu has always cared about his appearance, so while he doesn’t love the idea of having to wear something he didn’t choose to willingly, he admits the pair osamu chose isn’t all that bad. now he’s just worried about whether you’ll like it or not. he thinks the glasses make him look more dorky. are you into that? well, only one way to find. atsumu gives one last sigh and lightly slaps both sides of his cheeks.

“took you long enoug-“ your words are cut off as you stare at the blonde in front of you, eyes shyly cast downward and a faint pink blush dusting his cheeks. neither of you move nor speak for what seems like minutes. atsumu shifts uncomfortably in his spot, too intimidated by the silence to look for your reaction. but he can feel your stare boring into him, and it withers his confidence more and more, until eventually he can’t stand it anymore.

“does it look that bad!”

“you look so adorable!”

the two of you yell at each other at the same time, and are both taken aback by the other’s exclamation.

“you think so?”

“what, why would it look bad!”

atsumu’s blush deepens as you suddenly move up flush against him, your head tilted up to look into his eyes.

“‘tsumu, you really look so cute, they suit you so much.”

no way. how can you be so cute and sincere while saying that? atsumu feels like he can melt into a puddle, but he doesn’t want to let you realize your effect on him, so he feigns confidence.

“yeah, i knew they’d look good on me.”

you snicker softly at your boyfriend’s pride, and pretend as if you didn’t just hear his insecure words or see his clearly nervous stance as he waited for your approval. you grin.

“well then, why don’t we go see a movie after dinner tonight? you’ll actually be able to see the screen this time.” you tease.

“hey, i could see the screen perfectly fine last time.”

“really? then tell me, what was the demon slayer movie about?”

“...a slayer...slaying demons.”

“you were blind as a bat.”

miya osamu

osamu is often staring at bills and budgets all day for his restaurant

you have a feeling his eyesight is worsening because he always asks you for help finding things

he wonders where his calculator is when it’s right next to him, or drops a pen and loses it forever

one time as you walked towards the meeting place for a date he didn’t wave until you were a few feet away from him because he didn’t recognize you

so you finally force him to go to the eye doctor and he gets a pair of glasses

“hey osamu- woah.” a regular enters onigiri miya and is stunned for a few moments as he looks at the shop owner.

osamu glances up at him and smiles. “the regular?”

“yeah. when’d you get glasses? it doesn’t really suit you,” the customer says as he sits himself down. osamu furrows his brows but decides to brush off the comment.

“just a few days ago, i’ve been having vision problems for a while.” the customer hums in response and osamu gets to work on his order.

for the rest of the day, more regulars filter in and out, some seeing osamu since he got his new glasses for the first time. some of them make comments, such as ‘well that’s new’ or ‘you look different’, and osamu can’t help but think on the negative side. sure, they probably didn’t mean anything bad, and osamu didn’t think he’d be one to care so much about others’ opinions, but for some reason they got to him more than usual. he stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror on his break, and slowly removes his glasses.

-

that night, you hear yelling from osamu’s home office again.

“y/n, have you seen my calculator?”

that’s a question you haven’t heard in a while. you walk in to find osamu bent under his desk, looking around and feeling the ground. when he comes back up, you realize why he couldn’t find it.

“baby, why did you take your glasses off?”

“they were giving me a headache. just help me find my calculator,” osamu says quickly, but you don’t buy his lie. the glasses fit perfectly fine before, and he even mused about how it’s amazing he can see every little detail now (he pointed out a pimple on your face and you wanted to smack him).

“no. i’m not helping you until you tell me why you took your glasses off. or you can just put them back on and find it yourself.”

osamu sighs in defeat, and a small pout paints his face.

“some of the regulars said they don’t suit me...”

you stare at osamu, and then spot his glasses on the table beside him. you pick them up and slowly slip them over his eyes.

osamu looks up at you like a hurt puppy, and you feel your heart melt.

“don’t listen to them. you’re the prettiest boy in the world, glasses or not.” you place small kisses all over osamu’s face, watching as his expression brightens. he laughs when you don’t stop, complaining that it tickles, and you take in osamu’s face, the way his smile lifts his cheekbones and his eyes twinkle in laughter.

“there’s my pretty boy,” you say solemnly, hand patting osamu’s head. before he can react, you pull out your phone and take a picture, turning it around to show him. you zoom into his face and point out everything you love about it while osamu feigns protest.

“i love the way your lips sit in a small cute pout, but curl up when you’re happy. i love your nose, and how it scrunches up when you get cold. i love your well-kempt eyebrows, and how you pretend you hate me plucking them but you really love it,” osamu shakes his head playfully, but a smile is playing on his lips as he pulls you down to sit on his lap.

“but most of all, i love your eyes. i love how i can clearly see them through your glasses, how the silver frames highlight their colour even more, and how i know that you can clearly see the world and all it has to offer through them too. i hope you can see how truly beautiful you are.”

osamu stares into your eyes and feels like he’s drowning in their sincerity. he can feel tears threaten to come up, and he blinks quickly to get rid of them. looking at the picture of himself on your phone, he decides he does look pretty good.

“ah, i found my calculator,” he says as he reaches behind you. “thanks for helping me,” his eyes shift to the side, and you understand what he means.

“anytime,” you reply with another kiss to his cheek.

[jadequeen88]

Incel Tomura

I couldn’t think of a good title for this, so... I just went with something real blunt. Anyway, this was inspired by a friend and how she actually met her IRL boyfriend.

PAIRING: Incel!Shigaraki x egirl!reader

TW: face sitting, degradation, mommy kink, reader basically bullying Tomura (he deserves it)

3.2k~

AS ALWAYS MY FICS ARE STRICTLY 18+

“TCH!”

Tomura scoffed at the screen of his laptop. The Discord server he helped admin had gone to shit since he let that idiot Dabi loosen the requirements to join. It was one thing when Toga joined. He knew she was a decent gamer. But you? With those stereotypical cat-ear headsets, perfectly done make-up and short skirts? Please… He saw right through you. Just another fake ~uwu~ e-girl trying to pretend they knew what they were talking about.

It didn’t end with you being annoyingly informed in the gaming chat, either. You were always in the anime and manga chats, too… Suggesting different ones that there’s no way you actually enjoyed.

But the WORST part of you being in the server? Spamming the picture chat with selfies and outfit pics. No, it wasn’t against the guidelines and yes, you got lots of compliments (of course, you were clearly hot), but it made Tomura livid. Where there used to be pics of half-built PCs and screenshots of character upgrades, now there were endless pictures meant to tease and bait the guys in the server.

Today’s picture is what sent him completely over the edge. Your hair was put up in two messy space buns, signature pink cat-eared headset perched on your head. Your black, mesh top was straining against your tight, hot pink bra, barely hiding your cleavage and your slender neck was adorned with a chunky, black collar with a large, silver ring hanging from the front. The icing on the cake, though… the thing that broke him, was the face you were making. Eyes crossed, little pink tongue lolling past your perfect hot-pink lips, it was an obvious ahegao face. The caption read:

“New collar! Thank you for da gift @XxXknifey_wifeyXxX”

Followed by a bunch of annoying ass emojis.

Tomura shifted in his gaming chair, his growing bulge making his sweats tight. He gritted his teeth and opened his DMs…

******

You snickered as you opened your text chat with Dabi. Poor Tomura… He had no clue his friend was an old high school buddy of yours and sent screenshots every single time he bitched about your presence on the server. At first, it was just a couple of snide comments, but you quickly decided to turn it into a game. You’d add more emojis than you normally would, flirt shamelessly with Toga in the chat, and be very vocal with your opinions. Then it progressed with more and more selfies, pics showing off your new skirts, and pics of your pink, girly gaming setup. Today you pushed it with the ahegao face, you’ll admit. It was pretty out of character for you, but you couldn’t wait to hear about Tomura’s reaction from Dabi.

It was everything you hoped it would be:

Decay_666_

So can we give those bitches their own chat or what? Seriously, I’m sick of seeing their shit everywhere. Did you see her ahegao face selfie? This server was supposed to be for ACTUAL gamers, not fake e-girl sluts spamming the chat with their bullshit…

Cremation_Daddy

Lol, damn dude, calm down… we can make a separate chat. You’re the only one on the server complaining. Y/N really fucking you up that bad?

Decay_666_

Oh, fuck off… she’s just being an attention whore and it’s getting on my nerves.

Cremation_Daddy

Yeah, whatever you say. Prolly jerkin it to that selfie right now

You didn’t know why, but you kinda had a crush on the skinny loser. Knowing how worked up he’d get over the smallest things you did thrilled you. You wanted to know just how badly you affected him and today was the day you’d find out.

*****

Tomura heard a ping from his monitor alerting him to a new DM. expecting it to be Dabi giving him more shit, he scowled and clicked over to his Discord tab. When he saw that it was you DMing him, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He could barely type he was so nervous.

Y/N

Hey :)

Decay_666_

Hi

Y/N

How did you like my new collar?

Tomura panicked. Had Dabi said something? There’s no way he’d do that. How did he even respond to that? He decided to feign ignorance.

Decay_666_

What collar?

Y/N

*image*

He audibly gasped. You sent him the selfie you’d posted in the chat earlier. Somehow, it was even hotter than the first time he’d seen it. Probably because you had sent it to him. You wanted to make sure he saw it. The thought alone made him painfully hard. He typed out a shaky response:

Decay_666_

Yeah… you look really pretty :)

He grimaced. He couldn’t think of anything clever when he was put on the spot like that. Plus, how long had it been since he’d spoken to a girl one on one? Much less a hot one? Never. That’s when.

Y/N

Aww, you’re so sweet :) wanna see it in person?

Now Tomura was wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. Did she want to meet up? Wearing that fucking collar? There’s no way… He stared at the screen for a good ten minutes before another ping brought him back to reality.

Y/N

I’m free now if you are. Plus, there’s a new episode of *insert favorite anime* out and I didn’t wanna watch it alone.

Decay_666_

Yeah. Sure.

His response was almost uninterested but inside he was panicking. When was the last time he showered? How much time did he have to get ready? Did he even have any clean clothes? He leaped from his chair and ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Another ping rang out and he raced to check his DMs to see that you’d sent your address. To his surprise, you only lived a short walk from him. Another jolt of excitement shot through his spine as he quickly responded.

Decay_666_

Be over in 30 :)

He turned on the shower then started picking through his pile of clothes finding the ones that smelled the least offensive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous and excited at the same time.

*****

 Tomura shifted from one foot to the other, nervously scratching at the side of his neck. He caught himself before the skin there broke and he ended up having to deal with a bloody neck on top of already being a nervous wreck. He’d only been standing outside your apartment for a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. He kept checking his phone to distract himself. Just as he was starting to question if this had been a good idea, the door flung open.

His eyes widened and his mouth turned into a thin line. You answered the door in a fucking towel. He began opening and closing his mouth like a fish that had been plucked from the water. You giggled innocently like it was perfectly normal to answer the door nearly naked.

“You’re here a little earlier than I expected! I just got out of the shower. Come on in,” you moved to the side to give him room to walk through the door into your small apartment. You were sure to not move completely out of the way so he’d have to almost brush against your chest. You could feel him stiffen and hold his breath as he passed by.

This was going to be so much fun…

*****

Tomura’s dick had been painfully hard the moment he’d seen you in that towel. Luckily, when you’d gone into your bedroom to get dressed, he was able to position it in his waistband so he wouldn’t be pitching a tent in front of you. The thought of you noticing him popping a boner just by looking at you in a towel was mortifying. 

However, what you decided to change into didn’t help his situation. Your baby pink terry cloth shorts would have shown the curve of your ass had it not been for the little row of ruffles around the bottom. Your tank top, the same baby pink color as your shorts, was pulled tight across your chest (holy shit, were you not wearing a bra?!). A fleeting glance at your chest proved to Tomura that you definitely were not wearing a bra.

“You can come on back,” you beckoned from the doorway of your bedroom, “I thought we’d be more comfortable in here…”

He gulped and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans before nodding and rising to walk towards you. Your room was foreign to him. Decorated with all shades of pink and purple, soft, plush bedding, and a soft pink glow emanated from the LED strip lights that lined the walls. Tomura stood awkwardly, looking around for a chair to sit in when you flopped onto your bed and began pulling up the streaming app on your tv. 

You looked up at him sweetly and patted the spot on the plush comforter next to you. “Come sit, Tomu! You don’t have to stand way over there. I don’t stink, ya know,” the wink you gave him made his knees buckle.

“Umm,” he chuckled nervously, “No, of course not. You, uhh… you smell…”

No, you were way too close. This was bad. There’s no way he would be able to string together a coherent thought, much less hold an actual conversation with you. You pout and lean in even closer to him.

“Tomuuuuu!” fuck, he hated that he loved that stupid nickname, “You think I smell?!”

“What?! N-no, not at all. I was trying to say that-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you tilted your head to the side offering up your neck for him to smell and he swears his eyes crossed as he tried to absorb what was happening.

“I even wore my new perfume! Go on, smell. Tell me what you think,” you smirk looking out of the corner of your eye.

Fuck.

You were teasing him, he knew you were, but his dick was so hard that he was completely at your mercy. He leaned in to take a tentative sniff and his eyes wandered lower. His breath hitched when he noticed the outline of your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank top. Before he knew what was happening, you turned your face forward and put your mouth next to his ear.

“Are you looking down my shirt, you pervert?” you purred. Tomura made some sort of incoherent noise and pulled away.

You laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully, “Geeze, I’m just kidding! You’re wound so tight.” you pause making a thoughtful face.

“Oh, I know how to help! Come on, over here,” you pulled him between your spread thighs and proceeded to rub his shoulders, working out all of the knots in his lean back.

After a few seconds, Tomura began to relax into your touch, slumping slightly and letting out a tiny sigh. He was deathly still the entire time you massaged him. He was terrified if he moved too much that his raging boner would free itself from his waistband. When your hands left his shoulders, he started to move away just to be pulled back into your lap. His head landed in your cleavage as your hands trailed down his chest. 

“Hmm, so tense, Tomu,” you whispered into the crown of his hair, “Is my massage not working?”

He wanted to yell that of course he was tensed up. That his dick is the hardest it’s ever been in his life and if he doesn’t hold as still as possible, he’s scared he might start humping the air like a pathetic dog. Before he can answer, your hand trails down to the waistband of his jeans, and he freezes. The tips of your fingers brush across his leaking tip and Tomura lets out a low, needy moan before he can stop himself.

“Just what I thought,” you purred as you began to trail your fingers up and down the hard bulge in his jeans, “Pathetic. Look at you, so fucking hard for me. And all I did was rub your shoulders.” He wanted to defend himself, but all he could do was whine as his eyes rolled in the back of his head while you continued touching him through his jeans.

“And to think, I never thought you’d want anything to do with some fake bimbo like me. Because I only game and watch anime for attention, right?” you squeeze his cock through his jeans, causing him to yelp. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, incel? Wanna tell me why your dick is this hard for me if I’m so annoying to you?”

The realization that Dabi had told you everything flitted through the back of his mind, but he didn’t have room in his brain right then to be mad at him. He had to do whatever he needed to do to keep you touching him.

“I, ahh... I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered pathetically. The front of his jeans was wet from your teasing and the denim was rubbing him raw through his thin boxers, “D-didn’t, fuck, didn’t mean it like… ahh, l-like th-that.”

You loved how easily you could wreck him. You pet his hair back from his sweaty brow as you cooed at him lovingly.

“You know,” you removed your hand from the front of his jeans and he whined from the lack of friction, “You really hurt my feelings, baby. I thought you were so cool and the whole time, behind my back, you said just mean things about me.”

He sat up and turned to face you. His pathetic, needy gaze shot straight to your core. The power you held made you drunk and you desperately wanted more.

“No, no no no…” he grabbed your hands and you realized how clammy they were, “I’m-I’m so sorry. Please! Please…”

“Hmm,” you studied him for a moment, “Well… There might be a way you could make me feel a little better.” you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, “You were so mean to me.”

“Anything! Please! I-I’ll do anything for you!” desperation started creeping in, thinking you’d leave him hanging with no relief. Little did he know, you had no intention of letting him go any time soon. Your plush lips curled into a devious smile. A soft hand reached up cupping his jaw.

“What a good boy, Tomu,” a tremor passed through his body. You reached over to your nightstand and pulled out the collar you’d taken the selfie in. 

“You know,” the collar danced between your painted nails, “This also came with a leash. I was thinking,” your lust-filled eyes meet his, “If you wanted to be a good boy for me… You’d let me see how pretty it looks around your neck.”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes rapidly moving between your eyes and the collar you held. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. You giggled and clapped your hands together excitedly leaping off the bed. You returned with a short, chain-link leash.

“Now,” you leaned in and fastened the collar around his neck. Your bodies were centimeters apart and Tomura thought he might pass out, “When you’re wearing your collar, you don’t call me Y/N,” you nudge his ear with your nose and whisper, “You call me ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?” you feel him nod against your face.

“That’s not how good boys answer their Mommy. When you answer me, you say, ‘Yes Mommy’ or ‘No Mommy.’ Is that clear?”

“Y-yes… Mommy.”

“Mmm, what a good boy,” you placed a soft kiss on his neck and he let out the most delicious whimper. You hooked a finger through the ring on the front of the collar, “You’re gonna go sit in Mommy’s gaming chair and let her use you as a toy. Okay?” 

Tomura’s head was spinning and he almost couldn’t answer until you jerked him by his collar, “Y-yes, Mommy. Please, please make me your toy.”

You stood and dragged him over to your chair and made him sit, “What a polite boy you are! Saying ‘please’ without being asked. If you keep that up, you just might get a reward,” his belt buckle rattled as you worked his jeans down his narrow hips. 

A ragged breath escaped his chapped lips as you removed your tiny shorts revealing a black, lace thong. You straddled his lap, your dripping slit hovering a centimeter over the angry, leaking head of his cock. His hands shook as you placed them on your hips and slowly moved your thong to the side. Descending an inch at a time, only teasing his tip, was causing him to come undone underneath you.

“You’re already so close and I’ve only put the tip in. You better be a good boy and not come until I tell you to or you’re going to be punished,” you pushed another couple of inches inside and he nearly wept.

“I-I’m trying, M-mommy! I wanna be a good boy!”

“Mmm, I know, baby. You’re doing so,” another inch, “So…” and another, “Well.” you were fully seated on his cock now. Tomura knew he wouldn’t last. Your velvet walls were sucking him down harder than anything ever had before. It made his fleshlight feel like it was made of sandpaper. You had ruined him for anything else. 

With a few rolls of your hips and some high, airy moans, he was about to bust. “Mommy! Mommy, please! I-I’m g-gonna…”

“Tomu,” your voice was authoritative now, “If you come in Mommy’s pussy, I’m going to make you clean it out with your tongue then I’m going to sit on your face until I come as many times as I want.” your hand wrapped around his throat and you started bouncing on his cock. Your filthy words and aggressive motions catapulted him into an orgasm.

“You bad, BAD boy,” a smack to his cheek broke off his moans, “You disobeyed me! Did you do that on purpose?” your hand around his neck flexes, “Are you just a dirty incel that wants Mommy to get mean with you? Answer, Tomu!”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“Tell Mommy what you are…”

“I-I’m a-a… dirty incel.”

“And what do you want?”

“W-want… want Mommy to b-be mean to me…”

You lift him by the collar and attach the leash. He’s thrown onto the bed and you waste no time hovering your dripping slit over his face.

“Now,” you jerk the leash, “Clean up your mess.”

Tomura knew he should be disgusted right now, but his dick was getting harder by the second. With each lick inside your sloppy hole, he shamelessly moaned against your skin. The vibrations were going straight to your clit, causing you to ride his face harder. This went on until you’d almost reached your peak.

“Oh, baby,” you’re making Mommy feel so, so good, “I-I’m gonna…”

Tomura grabbed your ass and moved you back and forth on his face as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your orgasm hit hard and fast. You lifted your body giving him a moment to breathe before sitting back down, earning a startled mumble from him.

“Don’t think that’s all,” you laughed and humped his face, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, “Be a good boy and mommy might even let you come…”

Tomura only nodded as he began to eat you again like he was starved. Maybe all the stuff you posted in the Discord server wasn’t so annoying anymore...

[angelguk]

omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3

here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)

didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)

soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz

(titled — honeymoon fades)

Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant  communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence. 

It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?). 

“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut. 

“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow. 

“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up. 

“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead. 

“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”

She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled. 

“Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”

“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words

“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”

“But he should!”

“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”

And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt. 

“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”

“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I do! He knows this.”

“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to. 

You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.

That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head. 

So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way. 

It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.

“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”

And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too. 

Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks. 

You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside. 

“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.

“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”

You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone. 

“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”

“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed. 

“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.

“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”

Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”

“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance. 

His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his. 

“Do you really?”

“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.

“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.

“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”

“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head. 

“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”

He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.

“You don’t love me.”

“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”

“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces. 

“I think we should break–"

“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”

His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”

He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck. 

“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”

Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”

He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away. 

“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.

“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.

[infernal-fire]

Hey, can I request a soft dark bucky or Steve as a family man. Like some domestic fluff with kids and/or a pregnant reader? Have a nice day regardless and stay hydrated!🌸

you have good taste m’lady. i really hope this is up to par with your expectations!

warnings: implied kidnapping, soft dark buck, Stockholm syndrome, pregnancy feels, some angst but some good fluff for balance :)

wc: 1k

Just Wondering

Subconsciously, you groggily stuck out your left hand, only to be met with a cold, empty space. With a low sigh and lazy stretch, you moaned in annoyance and slid out of the bed. This belly, now an extension of you, has been preventing you from sleeping on your stomach, effectively inhibiting a good night’s sleep. To top it off, Bucky has been repeatedly called away to last-minute missions. You wished so badly for him to come home soon - not necessarily because you wanted his presence, but because you craved McDonald’s fries. 

Yet, with the monotonous brushing of your teeth, your mind secretly wondered whether you actually craved his person. 5 months into your pregnancy and you had been able to fend him off more easily, blaming the baby hormones as an excuse to get out of sex. It had not been that easy when you were first plucked from your life; Bucky would have you however and whenever he wanted. 

The first time you had morning sickness, the pivot in his behaviour had you wondering if this were the same man. 

Present time, you considered changing out of the large nightgown but decided against it when you remembered you would have to do it without your husband’s help. 

As you waddled down to the kitchen and made your way to the kettle, something in the corner of your eye piqued your attention. You cautiously stalked to the slip of paper that was haphazardly pinned to the fridge with a little button magnet.

I will be back tomorrow. Could you prepare a nice dinner, my love? I would love to spend some time together. It’s been too long x

There was no signature, but you absentmindedly traced where it would be. During those early days of courting, he would leave notes and messages in unsuspecting places. It would frighten you, and although that wasn’t his intention, it foreshadowed the behaviour that eventually removed your choice to say no. 

His signature used to brew dread and bubble panic. Now, you could recognize that the note no longer brought up fear within you. 

No, it wasn’t the lack of a signature. In fact, you had an epiphany, realizing that the note itself was actually comforting.

A sharp exhale escaped you as the note was crumpled and thrown into the nearest trashcan. 

“The audacity,” you muttered under your breath and went about your day. 

The house was spacious, your existence in it not taking up much of the expanse. It was a reflection of yourself - all this space in your mind, yet you were all alone most of the time. Bucky was there, but through no fault of his own, he was pulling back and giving you space. 

You sighed for the umpteenth time since waking up, now regretting every instance you pushed him away when he tried to hold, cuddle or kiss you. 

As you went about your day, you scolded the thoughts that pondered how he was doing and whether he was safe. Then, while you were halfheartedly reading a book, your hormonal brain entertained the possibility of Bucky’s death. 

You knew that he could die during any mission. It could be a simple recon, but this life wasn’t a safe one, the scars littering his body a testimony to this fact. 

You should hate him. You shouldn’t care if he died. Hell, you should be figuring out how to get out of here. Instead, you slumped into the reclining chair and crumpled into a ball, falling asleep from the tiredness that came with crying. 

Your brain was awake before you, nose picking up on an extravagant smell that evaded the ability to think. Not thinking much of how the aroma came to be, you wafted to the source: the kitchen. There, facing away from you was the broad breadth of Bucky’s shoulders. You noted the way his muscles rippled through the tight black shirt, which you were sure he wore to tempt you.

“You gonna stand there or come give me a kiss, dollface?” 

You pouted, crossing your arms and turning your head, only to catch a glimpse of yourself in the silver of the fridge. Your eyes were puffy, hair a mess, swollen and generally unattractive. 

He did this to me. 

You marched over to him and pounded your fists to his back repeatedly; though it would feel like nothing more than a pat to him, he turned around, taken aback. 

“You did this to me, you did this, you did this you bastard,” you sobbed, now resuming your assault on his chest. 

Bucky reached behind him and clicked the stove off before pulling your form into himself. 

“Hey,” he cooed, “What did I do, baby?” 

You sniffled, now crushed between his arm and his chest. 

“You made me all swollen and ugly, and- and, I can’t even sleep on my stomach.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle and rested his on top of your yours.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” you chanted.

“I know sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

His dialogue paused your rambling. The way he said I know as a response to I hate you did not sit well with you. The hurt in his voice was so evident, and though you had heard it before, you never bothered to care. On the other hand, you spent the whole day not-so-secretly wishing for him to come back. 

So what was true?

“I don’t mean that,” you meekly responded. 

“You didn’t mean what?” 

“I love you, Buck. I missed you so much.”

The super-soldier grasped your shoulder and pulled you off of him, only to look you straight in the eyes.

“Come again?” he asked, unable to believe what he heard.

“Don’t make me say it again. I’m glad you came back early, that’s it.”

Bucky gulped as a stray tear tainted his cheek. You took the opportunity to nestle back into the crook of his neck. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered. 

“Not the ruin the moment, but I’m very hungry.” 

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled and the pair of you laughed in unison.

Masterlist

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[fairestwriting]

Hiya, Lis! Hope you're doing well :3 and if it's not too much, can I ask for some sweet headcanons for Vil, Silver, Trey, and Rook kissing their fem! s/o who's just too cute for her own good please? Like it starts out as one kiss, then it just balloons into a makeout session? Thank you! (Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, senpai-)

hiii ^_^ i hope youre doing well too!

+ if you like my writing, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me!

Vil Schoenheit

You ended up becoming his makeup dummy again. He has a myriad of new products from brands wanting to be sponsored that you promised to help him with, so here you were, at his room, hair pulled back as he gets to work on your face.

You have almost a full face on, but there are a lot of lip products specifically, and Vil is trying to go through all of them at a timely manner, but it’s been hard. He’s testing out this apple-flavored lipgloss on you that promised the world, reading the label with squinty eyes as you kind of smack your lips together, then mutter about how it didn’t taste like apples at all...

He looks up from the labels for a second, while you’re distracted with musing about the lipgloss and looking at yourself in the mirror. The makeup is soft, all in springy tones, and you have so much blush on you look embarrassed. It’s so... strangely endearing to Vil, and in his tired mind, he decides that he wants to kiss you now.

And so he does. Taking your chin into his hand and surprising you, Vil kisses your lips softly, but he underestimates how much he wanted to do that right now. He looks at you for a moment and hesitates, before he dives in to kiss you again. You don’t know where that came from, and neither does he, but... you welcome the change.

It’s a while before it becomes genuinely hard to breathe, and you have to pull away, panting. The lipgloss is on Vil’s lips too, now. Breathing hard, he shakes his head. You’re right, it really doesn’t taste like apples at all.

Silver

You two had spent the afternoon studying together for upcoming exams in your room, and needless to say, you were exhausted. Pushing the worksheets aside, you decide to take a nap, and Silver joins you. So the two of you just cuddle up on your bed and pass out together.

Silver is surprised to find out that he’s up first, taking a moment to stretch and regain awareness of his surroundings. He looks around your room, takes note that the sun had set already, and then sees your sleeping face, head leaned against his chest. He can’t help but smile, you looked so peaceful and cute.

He cups your cheek gently and places a kiss on your lips --  Not with the intent of waking you up, but it does, and you kiss back. The two of you pull away at the same time, drowsy smiles at each other before you kiss again.

There’s no way to tell how much time has passed, really, but you’re both still sleep-addled and comfortable, sharing warmth without a word. Silver doesn’t mean to get overexcited but maybe at some point he just loses track of himself and climbs on top of you to kiss you harder. You pull away to breathe, staring at each other like you just realized where you were.

Silver actually gets sort of flustered at this. He laughs sheepishly as he hides his face on the crook of your neck, and you wrap your arms around him. You probably just fall asleep again.

Trey Clover

Of course you two bake a lot together. Whether you’re a chef so lethal it rivals Lilia, or a renowned cook between all of your loved ones, Trey will want to bring you to the kitchen to make some cakes together. It’s just a fun way to bond for him, plus you get to eat something delicious in the end.

Today’s pick was a cherry pie, as Ace’s suggestion. Trey was at the stove, stirring cherries and sugar together as you tried punching flour and butter into shape, but it was tougher than you thought -- Some flour flies around, staining your apron and your face white, you sigh in exasperation.

Trey looks over, attention caught by your surprised noise, and it’s just you powdered with floor, messy haired as you work the crust with all your might, but something about it is just so cute to him. He smiles and takes a step towards you to sneak a kiss, meaning to land on your cheek but you turn so it gets your lips instead.

He jokes about you trying to steal a kiss from him, mocking shock at how you’d do such a thing. You’re annoyed and amused at once, leaving the crust behind to actually kiss him on the lips -- You don’t remember exactly what point you were trying to make with it, but before you notice it, you get into it, and he’s kissing you against the counter.

Until the cherry mixture starts smelling weird, that when Trey pulls away in genuine desperate shock to turn the stove down. You laugh as he sighs in relief from saving the pie from what could have been a disaster.

Rook Hunt

Rook took you out for a nice stroll at the woods, not quite hunting but he had his bow and arrow with him, if he happened to catch anything he wouldn’t complain about it. You two were just talking, hearing the crunching of leaves under your feet, when you find a flower field.

You hadn’t seen it before, so you’re excited, running up to the plants for a closer look. Rook follows behind you as he calls for you to be careful to not get lost, Mademoiselle!

You barely hear him, marveling at all the colorful flower bushes you’d never seen before. You excitedly pluck one from the ground to show him -- And he feels all warm inside, oh, that’s no good, you were just too cute.

Rook is usually all words, but this time he just pulls you for a kiss, taking a surprised noise from you before you melt into it. When you pull away, he takes the flower from your hands and tucks it behind your ear, thought that’s not nearly as beautiful as you, he’ll say with a big smile.

This time you kiss him, and he kisses back, and it just snowballs from there, your hearts beating fast and world around you losing sense until you fall onto the grass together, dirt and leaves on your uniform. You laugh, it looks like you two made a bit of a mess, huh.

[malfoysstilinski]

flower crowns | draco malfoy

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: it’s the first sunny day of the year and you want to spend it outside with draco. he wants to make you a flower crown.

a/n: shout out to everybody else in the uk rn that’s had to deal with this shitty weather since september and is now in a third lockdown :))) these are the vibes we all need rn i think

It felt as though it hadn’t been sunny in years. You were used to the bleak weather that Britain provided nearly all year round, but it didn’t stop you from jumping out of your bed as soon as you saw nothing but sunshine peeking through the high windows of your dorm room.

“It’s sunny!” You gasped, “Oh, Merlin— Hannah, please tell me it’s as warm as it looks outside!”

Hannah Abbott glanced up from her book where she’d risen early. “I think so. It’s been getting warmer all week.”

You squealed, your roommates exchanging glances with each other as you rushed into the bathroom to get ready for your Saturday off from classes. You did have homework that needed to be done, but it could wait. You were not wasting the first nice day cooped up in the castle.

After showering and changing into one of your favourite summer dresses, you bounded back into the dormitory room and found your friends all slowly starting to get ready for the day.

“Anyone fancy going down to the Black Lake?” Susan Bones asked, “I heard a bunch of the Gryffindors are going down if the weather turned out nice today and Ernie mentioned joining them.”

A chorus of excited replies came from everybody else, but you smiled politely.

“I’ll have to ask Draco what he wants to do. He doesn’t really get along much with some of the Gryffindors,” you said, applying some makeup and then slipping on your shoes.

Hannah huffed. “Fine. I don’t know what you see in him, Y/N. You’re way too soft for someone like Draco Malfoy.”

Raising your eyebrows, you smiled. “There are many sides to Draco you’ve never met. I can assure you that there are billions of reasons why I’m with him.”

None of the girls said anything as you bid them a farewell before pulling open the door to your dorm. Wandering through the bright common room, which seemed to thrive with the sunshine pouring through it, you waved and greeted some of your peers, the smell of sunscreen filling your nose and making you excited.

You bounded through the corridors of the castle, saying ‘hi’ to Ron, Harry, and Hermione as you passed them. They seemed slightly taken aback by the bounce in your step, Hermione hitting Ron before he could make some sort of sarcastic comment.

You made it down into the dungeons, finding the bare wall you’d come used to staring at. Whilst a huge majority of the school would never be able to catch a glimpse of the Slytherin common room, as the girlfriend of Draco Malfoy, you’d been given the password and was updated of the change fortnightly.

Whispering the new one, you were thrilled when it opened to reveal the green and silver room. It was much darker and drearier than the Hufflepuff common room, perfect for when you were in a cozy mood, but today wasn’t one of those days.

“Hey, Y/N,” Blaise greeted you as he looked up from the leather couch. “Draco’s in the dorm room.”

“Thanks, Blaise!” You replied, waving to Pansy and Theo as you walked by them, making your way to the fifth year boys’ dorm.

You knocked once before you entered, finding it empty. You frowned as the door closed softly behind you, but your ears pricked upon hearing the steady rushing of water coming from the attached bathroom.

You settled down onto Draco’s bed, eager for him to hurry up in the shower so you didn’t have to waste anymore time inside. Who knew how long the good weather was going to last for? British spring was unpredictable— tomorrow it could go back to jumper weather and stay like that for weeks, with nothing to do but watch the rain drip drip drip.

Water dripped from Draco’s broad shoulders as he finally left the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his torso. He looked gorgeous— in platinum hair soaked and pale skin slightly flushed from the temperature of the water. His face lit up when he saw you on his bed.

“Let me guess,” Draco hummed, “You want to spend the day outside?”

“Please?” You sent him the same very pout that always allowed you to get your way with him.

Outsiders often believed that Draco was as cold as ice and as hard as steel, that, even for you, he would never be soft. However, it seemed like only you, him, and his friends knew the truth-- all you had to do was breathe and Draco was putty in your hands. You could probably ask him to jump off of the Astronomy Tower and he’d just ask if you wanted him to do a run-up or not. 

He tried to keep up his tough exterior around you at first, but with every laugh that escaped your lips, every excited gasp you gave when you learned something new, Draco felt his walls crumbling and he had to admit that he was hopelessly in love with you. Soft Draco was your favourite Draco, and it was the one he had reserved for you and you only. 

When people teased you, whether it be for your naive nature or because they were taking your kindness for granted, Draco was always the first to defend you. He’d ended up in countless detentions for hexing multiple other students who even looked at you wrong. You were his sunshine and he swore to preserve you and keep you safe from any harm. Even if he was your opposite.

“Fine,” he sighed as if it was a chore, but the corner of his lips twitched up at the idea of spending the entire day whilst you were out in your favourite weather.

“Hurry up and get dressed then,” you said, bending down to reach into his trunk and chucking him some clothes.

Draco caught them, sending you a look. “You sure? We could just stay here all day, I could just wear this...”

He watched you blush and shake your head. “Another time. Right now, it’s sunny-- so we have to go outside.”

Draco didn’t bother delaying you anymore. He knew you’d been hoping for good weather for a long time now. It felt like you hadn’t seen sunshine since the very start of September, and now it was early April. The cold, dark evenings always got you down a little unless you were wrapped up warm in the arms of Draco.

Within a few minutes, he’d dried off and chucked on the clothes that you’d thrown at him, slipping his shoes whilst you practically bounced up and down on your heels by the door. As soon as he was done, you grasped his hand and tugged him away. 

“Can we pick somewhere with a bit of shade?” Draco asked once you’d made it out onto the fields, finding multiple other students who had the same idea as you two. “I don’t want to burn.”

A group of first year Gryffindors ran by, nearly knocking Draco over. He let go of your hand and went tug out his wand, his nose scrunched up in disgust, when you grabbed his wrist.

“Draco!” You scolded him, “You don’t need to hex the eleven-year-olds for nearly knocking you over.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “They should watch where they’re going. I would have only done a tripping hex, anyway.”

Shaking your head at your boyfriend, you felt his slender fingers intertwine with yours once again and he led the way this time. It felt surreal to be outside without having to stuff your hands in your pockets or complaining about rain water seeping through the small hole in the sole of your school shoes.

“Here.” Draco stopped beneath a tree and settled down, his back against the trunk. 

“I’m going to sit in the sun,” you said, moving a few feet away so you were no longer under the shade.

Draco knew you wanted to make the most of it on your skin. He saw it glow on your shoulders, light up your hair and relax your mind as you lay down on the grass, nose pointing towards the sky. He smiled, simply watching you from the shade. 

He grabbed the book he’d managed to pick up before you’d forced him out of his dorm room, burying his face in it for a few moments as you sighed happily, sunbathing nearby. He’d glance up every now and then and become distracted by your beauty, his brain having to force his eyes back down to the pages in front of him. 

Eventually, he gave up, settling the novel beside his legs and moving over. He found you lying on your stomach, plucking daisies out of the grass and arranging them into a pile next to you. 

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, lying beside you, facing the sky. 

“You’ll burn,” you protested, “You wanted to be underneath the shade, Draco--”

“I don’t care,” he murmured, “Just let me be next to you for a bit, yeah?”

You smiled softly, shaking your head a little as you blushed. Draco turned his head to continue watching what you were doing. He saw that once you had a pile of maybe twenty or so daisies, you began to pick them up one by one before piercing a hole through the long stems with your thumbnail. 

He watched with furrowed brows, studying the way your hands delicately began to thread each daisy through another, tying a knot on the end so they couldn’t slip back through. He realised you were making a daisy chain, and quite a large one at that. Eventually, you closed it off and tied it back around to the first daisy. 

“What is it?” He stared at the circle of plants.

“A daisy crown,” you chirped, moving across and straddling him, his hands moving to your hips as you placed it on top of his head. “For my Prince of Slytherin.”

Draco grinned, reaching up to adjust it on his head. “How does it look?”

You beamed as you peered down at him. “You look like a dashingly handsome young prince.”

You leaned down and kissed his nose, watching his own cheeks blush a little. He managed to sit up, your body moving back a little so you were sat in his lap with your legs around his waist, one hand on you to adjust you and the other to keep his daisy chain on his head. 

You decided your words were nothing but the truth. He looked adorable with the white and yellow daisies in his platinum hair, which was fluffy from the shower he’d just had. He looked like the epitome of soft, his silver eyes melting as he stared at you in a mixture of complete adoration and love. 

His hands circled your waist and he managed to pull you even closer. Your sunscreen filled his nose, as well as the shampoo you wore, the sun beating down on the two of you as he moved to meet your lips in the middle. He hummed against you, enjoying the taste of your lip balm and the way you felt against him. 

One hand reached to stroke your cheek, the slightly calloused pad of his thumb brushing at your jaw. His lips worked against yours softly in an attempt to pour every inch of love and appreciation into you, his touch feeling like fire on your warming skin. You wished you could stay like this forever; just you, Draco, and the sun in the sky.

“If I’m the prince, I want to crown you my princess,” Draco murmured against your lips when he pulled away. 

“Do you know how to make a crown?” You asked.

“I can try,” Draco offered, “I watched you.”

Smiling, you climbed off of his lap and watched as he turned to look at the grass. He plucked a few more from the ground until he estimated that he had enough. Draco’s face scrunched up for a second. The boy was clearly deep in thought. 

“You pierce the stems next,” you whispered in his ear.

“I know, I know,” he played it off, grabbing one.

He inspected it for a few moments before trying to stab a hole through it with his thumbnail like you did. He groaned when it ripped all the way through, leaving him with half a stem. Draco tried again three more times before throwing his latest destroyed daisy to the grass in a fit. 

“I can’t make the holes!” Draco complained. 

“I’ll pierce them for you,” you suggested gently, “You pass them to me, and I’ll make the holes. Then you can tie them up as you go along.”

Draco didn’t reply but handed you your first daisy, watching intently as you made a hole with your nail and passed it to him. He grabbed another daisy and handed it to you and you did the same thing, and then he looped it through. 

“Good, now you need to tie it up,” you reminded him. 

Tongue poking out slightly, Draco did as you had said, creating a knot in the stem of the daisy. He grinned when it worked, his pearly whites on display as he practically threw it in your face.

“Look!” 

“Good-- you have one chain. Here’s your next daisy,” you beamed, passing him another with a hole in it.

Draco took longer than you had, his eyes focused and his nose scrunched in concentration as he created you your very own daisy crown to match his. When he was done, he sighed in relief but, overall, looked quite pleased with himself.

“Here you are, my love,” he murmured, placing it on top of your head. 

His fingers adjusted it and moved some of your hair out of the way so it sat perfectly. Draco moved backwards a little and smiled at the sight.

“How do I look?” You teased.

“Like the most gorgeous girl I have ever laid eyes on,” Draco promised breathlessly, kissing you hard on the lips again. 

You kissed him back. Maybe your roommates would never understand because they never saw this side of him, but this was one of the million reasons you loved Draco Malfoy.

[sourholland]

A Royal Convenience || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part Two

AN → You might all be wondering where I’ve been, I honestly just needed a bit of a break for my mental health! I’m sorry, I’ve missed taking to you all <3

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 2.0k

“Could one of you run off and find out if my son is planning on gracing us all with his attendance.” Nicola’s voice was assertive, dripping with irritation at the Prince’s tardiness.

A man holding a closed box with an assortment of rings stood off to the side of the drawing-room. He was stiff, awkward even, in the presence of not only the Queen, but the Princess and future Queen of England. His eyes were trained on the freshly polished floors, clutching the velvet.

Behind you stood your newly introduced ladies in waiting, there were three: Lady Eloise, Lady Charlotte, and Lady Andrea. They were very young, pretty, and had very clearly come from aristocratic backgrounds. Each of them held a title, meaning they’d soon enough marry. You’d planned on meeting them for tea, but Queen Nicola figured it would be better to bring them in before you chose an engagement ring.

“Apologies, mum,” Tom came through the double doors, his hair skewed and his shirt disheveled. He bowed, taking a spot beside his mother and averting his eyes from you.

“Thomas, wonderful of you to join us,” she drawled. “Do begin, sir,” she said, motioning towards the man.

He opened the box a bit shakily, dozens of diamonds gleaming. They ranged from color to carrots of gold, each holding a different and more interesting background. You couldn’t help but to reach out and pick up one with a deep sapphire.

“That was once worn by the late Queen Elizabeth l,” he droned on, continuing to tell you about the long history of where the ring had come from and what it signified.

“What do you think, Thomas,” Nicola asked. She was practically beaming at each ring you slid onto your finger. Like no matter which one you chose, none would be the wrong choice.

“It is not I that will have to wear the dreadful thing,” he replied shortly. “Therefore, I should not be the person deciding which one she chooses, though I wish you’d quicken the pace a bit.”

“Since you’ve made it clear that you have no intention on weighing in on the decision, I ask you kindly, Prince Tom, to please refrain from commenting,” you quipped. He took a step back irritably, pulling at the collar of his undershirt.

You reached into the box once more, pulling out a large European cut diamond ring. The several diamonds displayed at the golden band left you lifting your hand, staring at your ring finger absentmindedly. It was classic, yet had too many diamonds to be considered simple. A royal staple, much like the tiara you’d eventually choose to wear on your wedding day.

“This one,” you said. “This is the one.”

The Queen drifted towards you, biting back excitement as she assessed the ring. It was clearly too large and would need to be sized, yet still had the same effect. She held it up as you had done, clutching your hand and motioning towards your ladies to come and look.

“That’s absolutely darling,” Charlotte mused.

“It’s stunning,” Andrea agreed.

The Prince soon enough took his leave, slipping out of the room before Nicola could notice his absence. She looked disappointed when she looked over and was met with an empty space where he’d just stood.

“He’ll come around soon enough,” she said, this was less reassuring to you and seemed more comforting for herself.

-

“Do tell me about yourself, Andrea,” you murmured on, arm in arm as you both perused the large gardens.

“Well there’s not much to know, miss,” she replied swiftly.

“Please, I wish you’d call me Y/N in private company,” you laughed a bit. “I’ve never had much of a thing for titles.”

“Her Majesty would simply chastise me.”

There were blooming flowers and the grass was slowly becoming more and more green. The air was a bit brisk, the cloak draped along your shoulders thinner than you’d like. The soft breeze felt nice, though. Andrea was simple looking, pulled back brown hair and a heart-shaped face. She explained that she was one of three girls, the third daughter of an earl.

“I must admit, I do wish we’d have met under different circumstances,” you mused, plucking a lily from the shrubs.

“I’m not sure what you mean, miss,” she looked over at you a bit sideways.

“I just mean—well under the circumstance that I wasn’t being pawned off on the Prince.”

You fumbled at your skirts for a moment, pressing at the fabrics of your afternoon dress. It was ivory, beautiful, really. Though, much different from anything you’d have worn in France.

“I’m sure His Royal Highness will be as pleased as everyone else once you are both wed.”

“That’s hard to believe,” you chuckled. “He has hardly said a word to me since I arrived in London.”

She looked nervous, like she was afraid to say the wrong thing. Her cheeks flushed lightly, the glint in her eyes a bit brighter. Andrea just looked over to you and gave a soft smile, as if to say everything would be alright.

“Do you think that Prince Thomas is handsome?” You asked, curious of her opinion. You watched her cheeks redden, an awkward laugh escaping her lips.

“That is not for me to judge, miss,” she answered almost immediately.

“No—but, I just want your opinion, do you think he is handsome?” You asked once again.

She hesitated for a moment, “yes, I think the Prince is certainly very handsome.”

You thought for a moment, of his brown hair that had been swept back and so carelessly skewed about earlier in the morning. The way his freckles scattered lightly across his nose like a constellation, you’d only known this from when he’d pulled you in so closely the night before. He wore his signet ring proudly, this amongst what looked like another ring with a crest on it.

“Yes, I suppose he is quite handsome. Though, if I’ve learned anything, it is that looks count for almost nothing when you’re forced to spend everyday with a person.”

-

The quiet clattering of silverware sounded throughout the large room, beside you sat Prince Tom. Down the table were the two older princes, assuming the youngest, Prince Patrick, was still too young. At the head of the table was King Dominic, at his right was Queen Nicola. Occupying the rest of the table was an assortment of dukes and duchesses, earls and ladies.

It had been too late to join everyone for dinner the night before, so tonight was the first time you’d been in everyone’s company. The room was large, grand even, gold trim and deep royal red walls filled with paintings dating back centuries. Candles burned while you ate, attempting to steal a glance at the Prince while he spoke with his brother Harry.

It had taken you weeks studying the British monarchy to completely grasp their political and traditional protocol. You had to learn who to curtsy to and who not to, and then in what order, how to determine the sovereign and whether or not to address someone with a title or not to.

“Tell us, Y/N, how are you finding England?” The Queen chimed, staring at you from her seat across the table.

“Well, ma’am—I haven’t seen much of it, I do hope to see more. It is far different from France, though.”

A quiet murmur spread across the table, “I’ve always found the French quite curious,” a duchess, whom you could not recall the name of, said lowly.

“Curiously dreadful,” Tom laughed to himself in a whisper you were sure only you could hear.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards him, the sound of your cutlery against the plate louder than you’d liked. “I thought you said something, sir.”

The King looked up at you, the scornful way in which you looked at Tom, seething at his teasing words. You felt the heat in your face spread when you noticed an almost surprised look from a majority of the long and stretching table.

The rest of dinner you kept quiet, avoiding the looks from the prince at your side. He seemed quite bothered, you put your head down and braced yourself once the King stood. Once the King finished his meal, everyone else was finished as well. He stood soundly, the paleness of his skin off-putting, the deep purple crescents underneath his eyes prominent in the candlelight.

You stood with everyone else, retiring to your chambers in a fleeting moment once it was appropriate to get away. The long, narrow halls were ages older than you, the artwork clearly showing that. You recognized past monarchs, the kings and queens of the years earlier. The twists and turns reminded you of a labyrinth, easy to get lost in.

Once you reached the double doors to your chambers, you pulled at them quickly, shutting them behind you soundly and sinking against the wall. The room was still filled with burning candles, the servant at your vanity looking at you curiously.

She curtsied quickly, motioning you off of the floor in a maternal way. You said nothing, letting her help you slip out of the evening gown and undo the tight lacing of your corset. You breathed deeply as she slipped the white nightgown over your head and took down the silver pins from your hair.

“Are you alright, miss?” She asked, the look on her face a bit concerned.

“Yes, just tired,” you excused. “I can put myself to sleep, thank you.”

“Are you sure, miss? I really do not mind,” she trailed off as you waved her away laughing stiffly.

“I am sure, thank you, Anne.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, brushing through your hair as you sat. Anne had long left, the doors shut tightly and the guards posted at them for the night, however, you turned quickly at the sound of them creeping open.

“How thick in the head must you be?”

Prince Thomas.

“You should not be in here,” you warned. “It’s bad enough to be caught alone in the daytime without a chaperone, but at night—in my bedroom!” Your tone was sharp, your arms wrapping around yourself. His eyes scanned your bare ankles, the curve of your legs underneath the thin material.

“You need not be concerned about your virtue, not after what you decided to pull at dinner tonight, before mother and father! I mean seriously, it’s like you enjoy humiliating yourself in front of the whole family!”

His cheeks were flushed in anger, his eyes fixed on you. You hair was undone, your eyes stuck on him. The silence was deafening, the space between the both of you closing when you stood up and marched over to him.

“I have been here a day. A day! And you cannot allow me the luxury of my own chambers, parading in here like you were not the one who provoked me!” You rammed a finger into his chest, gaze not faltering as you looked up at him.

“I told mother, I told father. You are nothing but a child, a little girl with no clue what she’s getting herself into,” you flinched at his voice.

“I will be your wife—”

“You will be the Queen of England!” He shouted, “the way you acted tonight was not that of a queen, but an eighteen year old girl in way over her head.”

He grabbed the hand that had jabbed into his chest, skewing it to the side. “Do not forget yourself, Y/N. I can promise you this, if you cannot at least act like you have any idea what you’re doing, this engagement is off. I will not tarnish the name of my country, nor title or reputation for a French princess that I had no desire to wed in the first place.”

taglist- @justapurrcat @witchyartemis @keithseabrook27 @clara-licht @dummiesshort @username2002 @imaginationisgrowth @nova-sup3r @jeyramarie @the-avengers-assembling @veryholland

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife For Thor Pt.01

10/12/2020

Arrivals and Departures

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 6,990

Warnings: language, talks of death, angst, talks of sex,

A/N: This is seriously...I mean, I don’t even know where this came from. Credits to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ because Roo gave me the idea and I kinda ran with it. Like omg, y’all. Blame Roo. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo Dialogue from Thor Ragnarok has been used in the beginning of this story.

Please do not REPOST my stories anywhere. Reblogs are most welcome!

He stands with his arms crossed in what appears to be a small sitting room with a large window that opens to the sublime sight of the black space beyond. Sterling silver, radiant red, and brilliant blue stars twinkle into infinity.

This is a sight that Thor had seen many times before and yet, for the first time in an age, he felt hopeful for the future.

His fight had ended. With Ragnarok, his journey had reached an end. Not the end, but certainly that of a chapter I which his battles might rest.

He imagines that this might be how his father felt when he had taken charge of the nine realms.

However violent that takeover might have been, his father had lied about many things—his sister for one—it had been the beginning of a quieter reign. A new formative time for his father. He may not have been a perfect man, but he’d grown wiser in many ways. Still not the best father, but his father, nonetheless.

Thor can almost picture his life on Earth, a time of peace. A time to rebuild. He will be able to give his people a good life there and he’s certain that his friends will appreciate having him closer. Friends from work they may be, but friends.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?” Loki asks, standing beside him with his hands held gently at his front.

Thor looks at him, waiting a moment to allow him to finish speaking.

“Yes, of course.” Thor assures him. “The people of Earth love me. I’m very popular.”

Loki takes a breath, looking out the window as he quickly accepts his brother’s reasoning while simultaneously realizing he must word this differently to get his point across.

“Let me rephrase that.” Loki begins, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring me back to Earth?”

Thor knows that Loki has a point. His history with Earth is…not perfect. To say the least.

“Probably not, to be honest.” He admits, noting Loki’s apprehension.

Loki smiles, a little knowing.

“I wouldn’t worry, brother.” Thor tells him, both turning back to the void outside. “I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”

The moment seems endless, the two of them waiting as if the something should or might happen after Thor’s optimistic sentiments.

Then the moment passes and Loki sighs.

“Right, well, I’ll start rounding up the people who will be of the most use once we arrive.”

Thor gives his brother one parting smile but doesn’t watch him leave.

Thor doesn’t know exactly what has changed in him, what makes him so confident in this decision, but he knows it’s the best decision he could have made. And if he’s honest, though he’d never admit it out loud, the possibility of finally being on the same planet as Jane…well, he’d be a fool not to consider the possibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something feels different today.

As you wake, turning onto your side to stare across the small room at the blinking line on the blank word document on your computer screen, you can’t quite put your finger on what is making you nervous.

Your stomach is rolling, making you queasy, despite the fact that you have no reason to be anxious.

Yesterday was like the day before and today will be just like yesterday. Nothing in your life ever changes, and that’s become so much of who you are that whenever you have even a doctor’s appointment your heart begins to race in dreaded anticipation.

With trembling hands you clutch your blanket, trying to find a reason behind this mood. Your breath quickens as your heart panics, your mind scrambling to make sense of these emotions but nothing comes to mind.

So, you get out of bed. You get dressed choosing a simple knee length black dress that fits loose enough to keep you comfortable throughout the day. Then you head into the kitchen and start the coffee pot.

Halfway through the brew you shut the machine off and rush to dump out its contents into the sink.

“Fuck.”

You sigh, realizing you should really invest in decaf coffee for morning just like this.

“Tea. Tea is better.” You rationalize and pull your kettle off the warmer and fill it in the sink.

You replace it in its dock then turn your back to it, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you lean against it.

Your fingers stroke the smooth and unvarnished wooden countertop, suddenly going rigid around the lip as your heart goes frantic again.

The island counter directly in front of you is made of the same unvarnished wood, a slightly mismatched chair on the other side, tucked in beside the open shelving that holds your pots and pans. Along the center of the island sits a small vase with nearly completely withered flowers.

You’re filled with relief as your hands are given new task and you hurry forward and take the clear glass vase, toss the flowers—which crumble as they hit yesterday’s empty cereal box—dump the water in the sink and quickly refill it.

Setting the vase aside, you pull open a drawer and pluck from an array of contents a small packet of flower food, a pair of small pruners, a long piece of twine, and head out the back door to your modest backyard.

There isn’t much in it, and it’s unfenced. A large tree at the back-left corner provides shade and pecans. In the center of the yard sits a set of antique iron work garden furniture. Twisted and shaped into what reminds you of lace. Two smaller chairs and one long bench with curved backs.

You’ve been of a mind to buy cushions for them, but you haven’t found an excuse to justify the expense.

In between the garden set sits an outdoor coffee table made of wood and painted white. It’s fading and will need a new coat soon but again the expense can wait. At least until you sell another story.

Apart from this set and a small wooden shed beside the pecan tree, your yard is mostly overgrown grass and carefully cultivated flowers lining the length of your narrow back porch.

You smile, noticing the length of your grass, grateful for another something to keep you busy today. Something to keep your mind off this mysterious and anxious premonition of something to come.

Quickly you move to a large blooming bush at the end of your porch and cut from it several bunches of pink and blue garden phlox.

You admire the shade of the blue flowers. The color reminds you a pair of blue eyes you’d once seen on a woman who’d come to your school as a child.

She’d been beautiful and kind, but she hadn’t picked you. Still, you’d never forgotten the color of her eyes.

The pink is pastel at the edges of its petals and vibrant magenta at the center.

As you head back in, the kettle only barely beginning to steam, you quickly arrange the bunches you’ve picked and wrap them up with the twine. You set the bushel aside and with the vase pulled close, you tear the packet of flower food with your teeth and pour it in.

Replacing the flowers, you give the kettle one more look before you race back into your bedroom to pick out a more appropriate outfit for cutting the grass.

You decide on a pair of jeans and a plain yellow t-shirt. Pulling them on, you pause with your shirt hooked around your arms as your eyes find your laptop screen, annoyingly black still.

With a groan you pull your shirt on and from the kitchen you hear the whistle.

Breakfast is simple. A store-bought muffin and a cup of breakfast tea do the trick and while you’re still chewing your last bite you head out to cut your grass.

It doesn’t take you too long and you lament the last bit as you cut it, the machine vibrating violently in your nervous grip.

No matter how much you try to distract yourself, this feeling of something terrible coming will not go away and you’re about to go out of your mind when a shout from your back door pulls your mind from it.

Standing there is an older man with an unconventionally handsome face. His lips are thin, cheekbones prominent, brown eyes sunken, and his nose long and defined. His dark hair slicked and parted, neatly kept to match his crisp navy suit.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed?” You shout at him as the whirr of the machine dies into silence.

The man moves towards you, a smile brightening his face.

“I was just at a meeting.” He explains.

“Do you ever stop working?” You wonder, pushing the lawn mower towards the shed as he follows.

“Only when I’m on vacation.” He tells you, amusement in his voice but subdued and you only hear it because you’ve known him for years.

“You don’t take vacations.” You sputter, almost laughing.

“Precisely.” He agrees.

He waits for you to shut the door and when you turn, he greets you with open arms.

“How have you been?” He asks, holding the hug for longer than you’re used to which only adds to the anxiety you’ve been feeling all morning.

What’s going on?!

“Hey, you okay?” You ask him, ignoring his question in favor of satisfying your curiosity.

He doesn’t answer but holds the hug a moment longer before pulling back to look at you.

“We have to talk.” He tells you, making your heart pound.

“Okay. You want some breakfast?” You offer, and swallow hard as your fear mounts.

“Sure.” He says and follows you inside.

You make him a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, breakfast sausage, and buttered toast with a cup of coffee. Just because you can’t stand the idea of being hyped up on caffeine today doesn’t mean David won’t.

He digs right in while you stand on the other side of the island, sipping on your second cup of tea in hopes that it will ease your frayed nerves.

For a few minutes he gobbles down your food but when you shift on your feet for the fourth time, he clears his throat, takes a drink of his coffee, then puts his fork down.

“It’s not exactly bad news.” He assures you, easing you a little but something tells you that you still won’t like it.

“Just tell me, David.”

“As your lawyer,” He begins, sitting back in your old wobbly chair. “It’s my duty to inform you when there are developments with your family’s estate.”

“Right.” You agree, remembering the day he’d found you when you’d turned eighteen to tell you that you weren’t exactly as poor as you’d thought.

You’re not really rich either. You have a little money that your parents set aside for you. Old money that you hadn’t really touched. You use it mostly for bills when you can’t sell a story fast enough and most of your wealth is in this cottage. A family home that you’d had no idea was yours until David brought you here.

Finally, a home, after living in that school all those years.

“Well, I think it might be time to reveal a little more of that estate’s history.”

“Why?” You put down the floral porcelain cup and wrap your arms around yourself, afraid of what he’ll say.

How did you know that something was coming? What kind of sixth sense do you have?!

“After all this time, why would it matter?” You sigh, moving to pull out the second chair to his right on the shorter end of the island.

“Don’t panic.” He tells you, reaching over to place his hand over yours. “Let’s keep our heads. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“You say that, but why do I feel like that’s not exactly true?” You sigh.

He blinks, gathering his thoughts before he nods.

“I think I’ll tell you all at once. Like ripping a band-aid. Might be the easiest for you.” He realizes.

You don’t disagree.

“Your family comes from a very small people in Europe. Their origins are hard to trace but we know that they travelled between France, Norway, Denmark, Romania, Belgium, Sweden, Austria, Greece, and even spent a large amount of time in hiding in the United Kingdom.”

“I get it, they were nomads.” You sigh, your mood taking a turn from the anticipation of clarity.

“Yes. Nomads.” David agrees, patting your hand in an attempt to calm you. “I only mention it because there are many questions as to where they had originated from. No one seems to know. Unfortunately, I don’t think that question will ever be answered as all records before their stint in France have been lost.

“What we do know is that your ancestors, your bloodline are royalty.” David says, as easily as if he were telling you your age. “Even though the titles have long since been lost, you are technically—though you have no country to rule over—a princess.”

Slowly his words sink in and your face begins to relax. You look down at his hand over yours and without warning you laugh once. Then again, and again, until you’re leaning on your chair, head thrown back as your whole body shakes with it.

“What is so funny?” David asks, unamused but he goes back to eating.

“This is a joke, right? You’re pulling my leg.” You gasp, breath shallow.

“Not one little bit.” He shakes his head. “If we knew what country your ancestors came from, you would very much be in some palace or castle, reigning over your people. Your parents, were they alive, would have been King and Queen.

“You may not think it possible, but that is your legacy, Y/N. You are of royal blood.” David insists which sobers you a little, but you think it’s so silly that this is what you’d been so scared of.

This is what you’d been dreading?

“Okay. Fine. I believe you. But what does it matter? You said that if I still had a country then I would be princess, but clearly, I don’t. So, I’m not. What’s the point of telling me this when it makes absolutely no difference to my life?

“I don’t feel any different and it’s not like that makes me any richer? I’m still sitting on a decently sized fortune to assure that I don’t want for anything at least until my forties. What could this possibly change that you felt it necessary to tell me?”

David wipes his mouth with his napkin, finishing up the last bit of his coffee before he gets up and with his dirty plates moves towards the sink.

“Leave it, David. I’ll clean up later.” You watch him, sitting up a little straighter as that anxious feeling begins to grow again with his extended silence.

He washes the plate and as he does, your nerves begin to fray again. You anxiously pick at a small splinter in your island, waiting for him to speak.

He turns towards you as he finished washing his plate, then meets your eyes.

“You weren’t just revealing my heritage, were you?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I felt I needed to reveal your heritage because someone has reached out with the hopes of setting up a meeting with you.”

“Why would anyone wanna meet with me simply because they know of my lineage?” You wonder, slouched, hands moved to your lap to rest limply as you stare at David, fear increasing with every moment that passes.

“May I ask you a personal question?” He says, moving to stand closer as he dries his hand on your dishtowel.

“David, you know everything about me.” You sigh.

“Why haven’t you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? I’m not sure I’ve ever asked if you-?”

“To be honest, I don’t know either.” You shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Not even as a child?” He wonders.

“I was too busy wishing for parents as a kid.” You clarify. “I didn’t have time for crushes or any of that stuff.”

“Are you opposed to a relationship?” David asks, dropping the towel then moving around to sit back down in his seat.

“Opposed?” You ask, shaking your head. “Not exactly opposed. I’ve just never known anyone worth caring about like that. I’m mainly here at home. I do go into town when I need to get my packages but there isn’t anyone there that…I don’t draw attention like that.”

“You’re a pretty girl.” David tells you, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. “When you aren’t sweaty and covered in grass clippings.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“It’s not something I really worry about.” You admit.

“Would you ever want to get married?” David asks, and your heart is suddenly pounding.

The idea of being someone’s wife had crossed your mind once or twice. Mostly when you’d been jotting down ideas or plotlines for your books. In the end, because you didn’t think you had enough insight, you’d opted to remove all romance. You write mysteries.

“I don’t know that I’d be any good at it.” You confess. “I’m not…I can’t exactly picture myself being someone’s wife.”

“Why not?”

“Because I…I don’t even know what I’d be like in a relationship, sharing space and time, much less sharing an entire life?” You shake your head. “I’m not saying that I haven’t thought about it but it’s only ever been in passing.”

David goes silent, tapping his index finger against the island.

“David, please. You know I can’t take the suspense.” You plead.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He nods then reminds himself, “Band-aid.”

You take a deep breath and turn to face him a little more in your seat.

“Well, you are aware of our planet’s newest inhabitants?”

“Th-The Asgardians in Norway?”

“Yes.” David nods. “Well, as a sign of good faith, to ensure that they will abide by Earth’s laws and to assuage any ideas from panicked world leaders that they might try and overtake the planet and make it their own, they have decided that marriage to someone from Earth might be the best way to do that.

“The Asgardian known as Brunnhilde has reached out to all families of royal blood and asked to meet with any eligible women, preferably—as she so tactfully put it—maidens.” He explains. “Which I take it you are?”

You swallow hard, your lungs rubbed of oxygen and yet you somehow manage to quietly acknowledge, “Yes. I’m a virgin.”

How can you not be after spending your whole life unconcerned with romance?

“You don’t have to do it, Y/N.” David suddenly says; however, you can see the ‘but’ in his eyes. “But if you don’t and the Asgardian king cannot choose from the women he does meet, you will probably be hunted down and forced to meet with him anyway.

“All world leaders are in agreement that this is the correct and only way to ensure the safety of the planet. They will not give up until every woman meeting the Asgardian’s requirements have been given the chance to meet with Thor.”

“Thor?!” You gasp, rising to your feet as hundreds if not thousands of images flash through your mind of the Thunder God and the Avengers fighting side by side.

“Yes.” David affirms, rising to his feet with you. “With the death of his father, he is now King of Asgard.”

Of course, Thor is going to be King. You already knew this. It’s common sense.

For some reason though, the confirmation made out loud, vocally…how the fuck are you supposed to marry Thor? An Avenger? That’s not…this cannot be real life!

“David,” You begin, apprehensive.

“I know. I know it is a lot to ask but as I said, I don’t believe we have much of a choice. He might very well not pick you.” David adds, rushing to comfort you and point out how unlikely you’d be the one Thor chooses to wed. “There are plenty of other women that he’s already met with. Women that are more suited to life in a palace than you are. The Hungarian princess is so eager to be Queen of Asgard that she’s been sending the other women bribes to try and convince them to refuse.

“It won’t make a difference, since they cannot refuse should Thor choose them.” David admits.

“A-all I have to do is meet with him?” You stutter, heart in your throat.

“Just a quick one-hour meeting. He’ll ask you questions. Get to know a bit about you. See if you are suited for life as Asgardian queen and then it’s over.” David assures you.

“I’m…There are lots of other women better for it, right?”

“Loads of them.” David promises.

New fears begin to take hold in your heart and mind.

It conjures up the last time you’d seen Thor, strutting from a massive spaceship docked over the ocean by New Asgard. He’d risen from its depths all wide shoulders and biceps. Heavy steps thudding as he’d stopped at the end of the massive ramp, waving at the cameras as his people had filed out behind him.

His hair cropped short as opposed to the long tresses he’d had when he’d last been on Earth, one eye missing with a sleek black and gold metal patch over it the absence.

You’ve never been threatened by him before. He’s a hero. But the prospect of being his wife and having wifely duties...

Your mind flies into panic as it shifts that large body over you, crawling towards you with his hands prying your legs open. The years of sexual experience radiating off of this fantasy Thor and all of his bulging muscles.

You almost want to throw up at the prospect of having to consummate a marriage. You haven’t exactly been eager to be with anyone since you haven’t met anyone special, but you’d at least imagined something more intimate. More personal.

“David I-they won’t choose me though, right?” You reach out for him because your legs are suddenly weak.

He takes hold of your arms and helps you stand still.

“They won’t.” He tells you, sounding convinced. “There are better candidates. Women with actual titles.”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. He has to be right.

“It’s just a quick meeting.” He promises. “Then it’ll all be over, and you can come back to your cottage and live just as you have been, with no one to bother you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving your little place is difficult. After spending years without a home to call your own, now that you have your cottage, tearing yourself away from it is like pulling splinters.

You like your little yard. You like your flowers. You love your bed and its white sheets, little pink and yellow flowers printed on the soft fabric.

You’d made it more feminine. You’d brought flowers back and frills and lace. You’d made it everything you thought a cottage at the edge of a wood should look like and as time had gone by you’d brought in more personal touches.

After several years, your home is finally completely you.

This place, this massive Asgardian structure is less gold and more wood, stone, and iron. Silver steel polished so bright it gleams even in moonlight. This place is not you. It’s him. It’s Thor. His home.

Right now, with the day almost over, the palace takes on a warmer tone. The wooden structures and gray stone pillars are bathed in orange light, giving the place a pleasant glow and despite yourself, you can almost picture Thor meandering through these Nordic halls, a long crimson robe around his thick form.

It isn’t an unpleasant image now that you’ve given yourself some time to get used to the idea of him.

When you arrived you were greeted and seated in a large round room, the lower quarter of the sturdy walls made of ornate stone brick, the rest of the wall beautiful dark oak. The floor is also stone, massive carpets underneath several pieces of obviously Norse inspired furniture.

Well actually, the Norse was probably derived from Asgardian styles. There’s a difference in them that you can see but don’t understand. The coffee table in front of you has ornately carved legs, golden embellishments, and a black coat of paint.

The sofa you’re sitting on is mostly wood, painted gold, with plush and soft satin covered cushions in wine red.

There are two other tables around the room, a collection of books on one and an array of fruits, foods, and drinks on the other. There are several different statues and stands. Lamps that look as if they should have flames instead of the electric bulbs they now hold.

Small touches of modern design filter through the room complimenting the more traditional décor.

“Hello there.” Says a lilting voice.

You recognize it and turn to find Loki, slipping through a narrow opening in the large set of doors you’d been escorted through almost half an hour ago.

He’s dressed in a black suit with a plain white t-shirt underneath dressing the look down.

“H-Hi.” You stammer, surprised by his appearance.

You stand, knowing well that he may not be King but for Asgard, Loki is still a prince.

“No, please. Do not get up on my account.” He gestures at your seat and you settle back in as he crosses to the table with all the books. “I forgot some papers in here, I only came to retrieve them. Do not mind me.”

You avert your eyes, afraid to see something you shouldn’t and sit just as stiffly as before, hands fisting the royal purple dress you’d chosen to wear. It’s simple, quarter sleeves, high neckline with a small V at the center. Just above your knees in length, it rises as you grip it.

“Nervous to meet my brother?” Loki asks, stopping by the doors as he eyes your tight grip.

“This whole situation is a little stressful.” You admit. “I’m…I live in a small house in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Ah, you’re the one with the lost lineage.” Loki realizes, moving closer with interest. “A hidden princess. You could have refused to come, you know?”

“I would have been forced eventually.” You point out. “There are a lot of people who want this marriage thing to happen.”

“True.” Loki agrees, “My fault, I’m afraid. I make them nervous.”

“You did very nearly destroy New York.” You point out, remembering the carnage reported that day. The aftermath had taken forever to clean up.

“I did.” Loki agrees. “Do you fear me?”

“No.” You admit. “If you weren’t safe, Thor wouldn’t have brought you back here.”

“He could just be too trusting.”

“Maybe.” You agree. “But with the fate of his entire people tied to the successful acclimation of Asgard and Earth, if you were really a threat, I think he’d have cut you out before coming back.”

Loki’s lips slowly curl up into a smile before breaking apart into a toothy grin.

“What is your name again?” He asks, a sparkle of something in his eyes.

“Y/N.” You tell him. “Why?”

“No reason. This has been very illuminating, Y/N. It was lovely to meet you.” Loki says then with a quick bow of his head, he leaves you to your solitude.

Confused, you sit there completely at a loss for what just happened.

Had you taken too many liberties with Loki? What had that smile meant? You’d been made aware that Loki was also involved in recruiting women of royal blood into marriage meetings for Thor, but you hadn’t expected him to know you by the description of where you live.

Maybe because it’s so unlike anyone else’s?

You sit there stewing for another twenty minutes, wondering if maybe you’re being stood up when the large doors open once again.

You shoot up onto your feet, so damn nervous your body reacts without your permission. Through the door this time comes the man of the hour. The massive Thunder God dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain gray t-shirt crosses over to the table with food and pours himself a stein of what looks like beer from a sloshing brown pitcher.

“Estrid, is this from the new batch of ale?” He booms loud enough that he can be heard even outside of the room as he takes a quick sniff of the liquid.

His voice is so deep.

Licking your lips, you watch him drink the entire stein without taking a breath or waiting for an answer, and then refill it before grabbing it and taking an apple with his other hand.

He turns, holding the fruit up to his mouth and freezes with it pressed to his lips as he meets your eyes, realizing he isn’t alone.

You’re not exactly sure what to say or what to do, completely taken aback by this strange and sudden exposure to candid Thor. Both of you unprepared to see each other despite the fact that you’ve literally been waiting nearly an hour for him.

His confusion mounts as he lowers the apple, looking around as if expecting an explanation or to see if he’s in the correct room.

“What time is it?” He suddenly asks, meeting your gaze again.

“N-Nearly six.” You tell him, and his one good eye goes slightly wide.

“Oh!” His lips curl up into an easy smile. “I did not think it was that late.”

His smile makes you feel a little more at ease, but you’re still on edge.

“You’re my meeting.” He tells you, as if you don’t already know that. “Y/N? Y/L/N, right?”

“Yes.” You nod, then before you can stop yourself… “You’re late.”

Thor blinks. Startled it seems or maybe just surprised, but then he smiles again. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I mean, you can be as late as you’d like. This is your meeting. Sorry. I didn’t…I don’t know why I said that.” You rush to say.

“No, no.” Thor turns to put down his stein of beer and the apple replaced in its bowl. “You’re right. I am late. We were supposed to meet at five, weren’t we?”

When he turns back to you, you nod.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have much you could be doing.” Thor says, moving towards you and gesturing at the spot you’d been in before sitting down at the other end of the sofa.

“No.” You confess. “Not really. I’m actually one of the only people that probably doesn’t have much to do. Well, I mean, I could be writing. Or cleaning house.”

“They tell me that you had no knowledge about your lineage before Brunnhilde reached out to your lawyer?”

You nod. “It’s not really important. Or…no. That’s not the right-what I mean to say is that it isn’t significant to my life.”

“Don’t you want to know who your family is?” Thor wonders.

“I know who my family is. I had a mom. And a dad. Both died just after I was born. That’s my family.” You explain. “Apart from getting to meet you, the news that my family was once royalty doesn’t change it in any way. I’m still just as insignificant today as I was before.”

Thor narrows his brow, watching you for a long torturous moment as he considers what you’d just said.

“Tell me about yourself.” He suddenly says, turning to lean back against the arm, his own thrown over the back, right leg bent up onto the sofa.

“There isn’t much to tell.” You admit. “I was born, my parents died in an accident. I was taken to a school for orphans where I grew up and aged out. On the day I had to leave, Mr. Valis found me and gave me my inheritance which is a good amount of money and a small house. I’ve been living there ever since.”

“You didn’t take any additional schooling?” Thor asks, relaxing. “All the other young women I’ve met have made it a point to tell me about the universities and colleges they’ve attended.”

“I took a few correspondence classes.” You tell him, “But I’ve only ever wanted to write, and I didn’t feel that I needed a higher education to do it. I mean, it would probably look better on my resume, but my writing should speak for itself.”

You can’t really tell what he’s thinking with the way he’s watching you, his hand playing with a thread on the back of the sofa.

You take it as a good sign that many of the other women have a degree of some sort. They must want someone respectable with a good education, right?

“How do you feel about political marriages?” He asks, and you’re stunned for a moment.

“Um…”

“Be honest, please.”

“I guess I don’t like the idea?” You admit. “Being forced to marry someone you don’t love because duty demands it? Feels archaic. If you love someone, whether they fit into whatever political standards are being demanded or not should not be a reason to get married.”

Thor sits up, shifting a little closer as he leans towards you.

“If you were asked to go along with a political marriage in every way but the heart, could you?” He wonders, much more interested than before.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Well, let’s say for example, you and I were to marry. We’d be expected to have children. You’d be bound to do your duties as Queen of Asgard, but you would not be required to love me. Would you be able to fulfill these requirements?”

“You don’t want to do this, do you?” You realize, seeing the eagerness in his eyes. His shoulders slump. “If you don’t want to get married, why don’t you just say something?”

“I must do what I can to ensure the future of my people.” Thor says, sighing deeply.

“I’m guessing there’s someone else you do love that you can’t marry?”

“Not that I can’t but won’t. She isn’t ready for marriage and I don’t feel right making that kind of demand from her when she clearly has other things she’d like to be doing with her life. And…yes, maybe a little bit can’t. A royal marriage would make the most sense. I need a Queen.” Thor says.

You can’t find the words to tell him how fucked up this all is so instead you sit in silence.

“I know this is not ideal. I’ve tried to find other ways of assuring Earth of my commitment to this planet but nothing I’ve suggested is good enough.”

He needs a Queen. This gives you solace. No one is less of a queen than you are.

“I’m sorry.” You finally tell him. “It’s not fair. But I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who checks all those boxes for you. I hear the Hungarian princess is pretty eager.”

Thor ignores you, stroking his beard as he watches you. “What do you want from a marriage? Let us say it’s many years from now and you have found someone you love beyond all reason. You two decide to get married. What does that look like?”

You’re a little surprised by the question but you humor him and take a moment to really think about it.

The man you picture has no face. There is no one you care enough about to imagine. So…because he’s the only option, you take Thor’s face and give your imaginary husband a face.

“We’d be partners.” You tell him. “Open about everything important. We would respect each other’s individualities. If something is troubling me, I would like to know that I could turn to him and if he had something on his mind, I’d hope that he could turn to me too.

“We’d be honest about even the unpleasant aspects of our life together. If we disagreed, we would talk about it openly. We wouldn’t hide from each other. We’d spend as much time as we could together and always make time for each other.”

You picture Thor sitting at your island in your comfy cottage. He’s so massive that he’d take up so much space. You’d have to squeeze past him, and he’d turn to wrap his arms around your waist as you pass.

He’d trap you there, not letting you move.

“We’d make breakfast together. Cramped up in my little kitchen, it would turn into play.” You smile. “We’d lounge around the house, reading and listening to music. In the evenings we’d move out to the backyard and watch the sun set then watch the stars until I’d fall asleep on his shoulder.”

As if you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t be, you startle yourself out of your daydream and feel your neck heat up.

You’d crossed from rational marriage into sentimental and you’re a little shocked at the detail in which your mind has gone.

You’re also a little startled by the pleasant feeling that picturing Thor in those situations has given you.

For someone who has never had a crush, you’re startled by the butterflies it gives you.

“But I’ve never been into anyone like that before.” You tell him, looking away from his intense gaze. “So, even if that’s what I picture, it’s not like it’s ever gonna happen.”

“It might.” Thor says, sounding as if he might be trying to comfort you.

“It won’t.” You assure him. “I hope your girl changes her mind.”

There’s a bitter ache in your chest as you say it, and you’re certain it’s only there because of the little fantasy you just allowed yourself to have. You should have picture someone else.

“I hope they relax on the royal blood thing and let you marry someone you love instead.” You hope.

“You say that as if you already know that I won’t pick you.” Thor observes.

You smile wide, laughing even as you bite your lip. “Well, I’m nothing like the girls you’ve met with. I don’t have endless amounts of money. I don’t have a prestigious education or extensive family. I don’t know anything about being royalty. The others have been doing it their entire lives. I’m the least likely candidate. I don’t fit the requirements, except for the bloodline thing.

“I only agreed to meet with you because I knew that the likelihood of you picking me was almost non-existent.”

“Ouch.” Thor says.

“No!” You rush to say. “You’re very…I mean, you’re kind from what I can tell and honorable. You’ve saved Earth a couple times and you’re a little self-centered but only in a superficial way that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good man.

“I honestly don’t know why your girl won’t marry you but I’m not right for this.” You nod. “I wouldn’t make a good Queen for you.”

Thor nods slowly, thinking for a minute before he straightens up and turns to rise, slapping his hands on his knees before he moves back towards the table of fruit and beer.

“You’re probably right.” He agrees, and for some reason, you’re disappointed.

Not so much that he isn’t picking you, but rather that he sees you aren’t enough. You’re lacking in some way. Which you already knew but…knowing he thinks that makes you feel a little lousy despite that being something you wanted.

“I suppose I’ll just have to pick someone more suitable. Someone who knows better about ruling a people. All the same, thank you for coming.” Thor says, dismissing you.

He picks up his stein again and turns to look at you as you rise.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

You nod, “Likewise.”

After a moment of hesitation, you give him a wave and move for the doors, trembling hands reaching out to yank the doors open and make your escape.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been weeks since you met with Thor and you’ve completely forgotten the whole thing. Life has gone back to normal and even though you now know that you’re from royal stock, nothing, as you expected, has changed.

The only plus that has risen from this whole situation is that you can now picture marriage a little better, however inexperienced and cliché it might be, you can make something up now.

Your little fling with the idea of Thor had given you fuel to slip a little romance into your writing and your fingers are flying across the keyboard of your laptop as you type up a new and promising mystery about a set of lovers and the body they discover in the attic of their new home.

You hate to be interrupted during a writing session, but you must have forgotten that about yourself because your phone starts to ring.

Normally you mute it before you even sit down to write.

With a growl you reach over and take a quick look at the number.

David flashes on your screen and quickly you swipe to answer.

“Hey, can I call you back in like an hour? I’m in the middle of a chapter and I’m on a roll.” You plead, fingers still flying across the keys.

“Y/N, Thor chose you.” David’s voice says and your fingers freeze.

There’s a pounding in your chest and your head is full of white fuzz. Your legs are numb, and your stomach is swirling with both flutters and nausea.

You can’t have heard that right.

“What?” You ask, voice shaky.

“Thor. He chose you. I just got off the phone with Brunnhilde and she wanted to let me know so that I could call you and let you know that she’ll be by tomorrow to pick you up.”

This can’t be happening.

“She said to pack only what you absolutely need. Everything else will be provided for you.”

“David…I…I can refuse, right? I don’t have to marry him.” You plead desperately.

“Y/N…” David sighs. “You agreed to this before you went to see him. I’m afraid the time to back out has come and gone.”

“But I can just not do it.” You argue. “They can’t force me to do it.”

“The government will seize your assets if you refuse.” David explains. “They want this done. I’m sorry, Y/N. There’s no backing out of this now.”

“But…But he loves someone else.” You tell him and even though your mind knows that this should be the last thing to concern you, it should not be the first reason you can think of why marrying Thor is a bad idea, it is.

As your eyes focus on the little blinking line of your word doc, your heart gives a painful ache knowing that your husband will be loving someone else.

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: joshua x reader ⚬ word count: 5040 ⚬ warnings: mentions of alcohol ⚬ genres: FLUFF, shallow angst, guitarist/bandmate!joshua, some annoying neighbour tropes, a little bit of pining, wintery pizzazz, joshua is a hopeless romantic :( 

✧✎ synopsis: somebody new just moved into the upstairs apartment. they’re loud, irritatingly sweet, and unfortunately, very pretty. but you’re not looking for a new relationship, even if it comes in the form of joshua hong. 

✧✎ a/n: oooUUooouu YES! this is a gift to my lovely secret santa, @luvshuas !! ♡ in my first ask, i learned that dani liked using paint by numbers, AND I THOUGHT THAT WAS ADORABLE so i helped use it to create this fic! dani, you are such a joy to talk to AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS XOXOXO !! :D

Last week, someone new had moved into the empty apartment one floor above yours. You didn’t know who. Not their name, not their face, just that they occupied the once vacant space of room 24D. Supposedly, their next-door neighbours had already brought them some housewarming gifts. A watering can filled with flowers, a wreath of white candles, and an old sewing tin now converted into a container for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

All closely resembling the gifts you received during your first week at the apartment complex. It made sense though, considering most rooms were home to very elderly couples. At first, you planned a brief gap in your day to visit this stranger and welcome them to such a small complex. Find out if they were old or young, endearing or irritable, sensible or flat out crazy. But you never visited room 24D, because you were currently in a moat about your ex-partner.

An extremely deep, inescapable moat.

Not only had they broken up with you on the day you planned to introduce them to your parents, they decided it would be most efficient to do so through a stupid text message. From Monday to Friday, you’d been moping in a curled-up ball on the couch, blowing into tissues and flicking through the holiday romcoms even though they were all so cookie-cutter and dull. To make matters worse, it had been snowing all week, shutting you indoors as a draft built up outside the windowsills.

You had completely forgot about the newbie who’d just moved in upstairs. Until one day, when they decided to make their presence known in the most jarring way possible.

That particular morning, you were finally feeling stable enough to not eat dry, stale cereal straight from the box. You were feeling well enough to avoid another twelve hours moulding into the couch. While a cold wind blew against the windows and rattled the glass, you poured yourself some tea with the new teapot your mother parceled as an early present. And that’s when you heard it: an eruption of electric sound from the floor directly above yours. It sounded like a guitar, if that guitar were plugged into a massive amp and its chords were being plucked by one thousand fingers.

Coincidentally, you spilt tea, scalding and runny, all over the countertop. It started dribbling down your cupboards and creating blotches on the tiled flooring. At random, the sound stopped.

By lunchtime you were unwinding in the shower, your eyes shut as the water poured onto your face and streamed toward the drain. When you squeezed out some shampoo onto your fingers, you heard the chord progression again. This time louder, if that was even possible. The bottle flung from your wet hands and crashed against the floor, startling you half to death, a trail of wasted shampoo then painted to the wall. But the sound didn’t stop immediately. Unlike last time, the stranger railed on their guitar for half an hour at least.

Yet the last straw didn’t come until evening.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a water jar next to your elbow, you were using your new paint by numbers kit. You had been waiting all day to try it, brushing in the mesmerizing colours of a watery-purple landscape. For the last time that day, you were jolted by the riff of an electric guitar, causing you to jerk a huge, thick streak of black paint right across the paper, effectively ruining it. How horrible. How Terrible.

And you were not going to let the incident slide.

Room 24D. 

The room directly above yours. After banging your fist rather inhospitably against the door, you couldn’t lie that the face which greeted you was a definite shock. A young man probably in his early twenties, with curly, brown hair styled neatly yet in disarray, and these wide, glass-like eyes that felt so penetrating you were afraid to glare him down. In fact, you were a bit nervous.

“I don’t know where you stayed at last, b-but at this complex, people don’t usually slam on their electric guitars.”

But so what if you were nervous? You had grown accustomed to sharing this complex with seniors. The thought of someone this young (and admittedly – quite beautiful) had somewhat stunted your brain. The stranger looked at you as though he had nothing to say. He started bobbing his head and shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing it doesn’t happen ‘cause everyone here is over seventy and crochets scarves until bedtime. It’s not my fault you’re the only one who’s still got decent hearing.”

Your eyes narrowed; your brow heavily creased.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

 He hesitated at first, then replied, “Joshua.”

“Okay, Joshua, I’d rather have everyone in this building crocheting scarves out the damn window if it meant not listening to a stupid electric guitar all day. You ruined my paint by numbers kit.”

Joshua laughed. “Your what?” He then flashed a grin which suggested he was holding back a satirical comment.

“My paint by numbers kit!” You repeated, feeling your nervousness dissolve into irritation. “It’s ruined, and I’m blaming it on you because it’s your fault. My whole week has been awful and you just made it even worse. So there. I hope you’re happy.”

For some reason, Joshua leaned his shoulder against the doorframe like someone who had all the time in the world. He appeared way too comfortable. Something about it irked you while simultaneously pulling this weird, fuzzy string in your chest. The boy folded his arms and raised a curious eyebrow.

“Why was your week awful?” He questioned.

There was a sweetness to his voice which hadn’t been there before, and you absolutely weren’t going to fall for it, even if it sounded like he ate a spoonful of honey and might taste just as good.

“No. Forget it,” you sighed, waving a dismissive hand, “I said what I had to say. Just be quieter, please.”

You turned around sharply, making your way toward the elevator based at the end of the corridor. Those magnetic eyes of his seemed to be glued to your backside, an almost palpable feeling.

“Okay!” He called out. “Great chat! Nice to meet you too!”

The boy was being wholly sarcastic of course. After returning to your apartment, you cleaned up the kitchen table, sweeping away your paint by numbers kit into a drawer just in case you were one day struck with the motivation to fix it up. Probably not.

“Uh—excuse me? You called me, remember? So don’t go shifting the fault like always. I just can’t believe how immature you are! And, you know what, I’m hanging up now! Don’t call back!”

Smashing your finger against the phone screen, you ended the call, silencing the aggravated voice that had pounded through the line just a second before. An unfortunate misdial resulted in your ex phoning you at the supermarket. The interaction immediately turned south, prompting you to hurry outside into the snow, wedging the brown paper bag of produce underneath your arm and against your chest, all while you barked into the phone with the other hand.

Snowflakes were brimming the edge of your wool hat; your fingertips numb and stiff. Your pacing, impatient footsteps were stamped across the white ground. Things had been difficult enough without your ex invading even the most boring parts of your life, and now a mundane stop at the market had left you intensely unsettled.

As you huffed a web of your breath into the air, you spotted something unexpected: Joshua helping Mrs. Akané load the groceries into her small silver-bullet car. She lived alone on the bottom floor of the apartment complex, one of the kindest old ladies in the whole building. Every winter she had knitted you a pink pair of mittens. When Joshua opened the car door for her, she gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder and her patented rosy-cheeked smile.

Since you scorned him for his abrasive guitar playing, it only happened less often, though it was never any quieter. You realized that he belonged in a band. From time to time they would take the stage at the downtown bar, engendering a space so packed it was nearly impossible to wriggle to the counter for a quick drink. Joshua invited you to his Friday night gig – which was tonight – and while you had contemplated the decision to attend, the disheartening encounter with your ex had officially soiled the mood.

Joshua noticed you, probably looking cold and mad.

“So,” he began, “are you coming tonight?”

Adjusting the groceries underneath your arm, you shrugged, meanwhile the hollow nature of your eyes screamed a blatant no. If anything, you wanted to be back on that living room couch, eating an entire tray of frosted shortbread cookies and dabbing at your tears.

“Seriously?” Joshua frowned. “You’re gonna pass? It is ‘cause you’re still mad about the guitar playing? I’m sorry, okay.”

“No,” you shook your head, “no, no. It’s not because of your disruptive, loud guitar playing. I’m just not having a good day.”

Bits of snow began to powder Joshua’s brown hair. His cheeks were blushed and his nose rosy.

“No offense,” the boy laughed, “but it seems like you’re never having a good day.” He then shook his head, scattering the snowflakes from between the fibres of his hair. “How about you come to our little concert shindig thing, listen to our set – which is great, I promise – then we can talk about it, back at my place.”

For a moment, you paused, and this perplexed expression briefly eclipsed your features. Did he just subtly attempt to persuade you into some sort of… Date? No, it was too soon for anything like that. He was probably joking anyways (despite his straight face).

“I don’t know… I’m tired. Maybe another time.”

You started carrying the brown bag of produce to your car, parked just down the street. Joshua chuckled and tagged along at your side, the snow crunching softly under your feet.

“When’s another time?” He asked.

Throwing open the car door and sliding the bag inside, you sighed. “Another time is another time. It’s self-explanatory.”

“So you’re not coming?” Joshua questioned in finality.

“No.” You replied, rubbing your cold fingers together, attempting to spark some warmth. “I’m not.”

It was then that Joshua took your hands in his, a gesture that completely flicked you off your axis, and started to squeeze them, kneading your skin with his thumbs until you felt the uncomfortable stiffness gradually wear off. He brought your hands close to his face, pursed his pink, very pretty lips, and started to blow on them. A sensation fizzled to life in your lower tummy. Not only were you heating up significantly, but you felt too hot. Scary hot.

“That’s a shame.” Joshua said, releasing your hands carefully, like he’d just touched gold. “But I can wait for another time.”

You couldn’t sleep that night.

Most likely because you were regretting the decision to not attend Joshua’s gig at the bar. The fact that no matter how hard you pushed, memories of your past relationship would still linger like a heavy mist, preventing you from being happy, from detaching, from forming new connections. Wet drops of snow tapped against your window. And then, at around one in the morning, you heard a knock at your apartment door.

Joshua. Evidently intoxicated. His guitar case slung over his back. A foggy sort of look disrupting his usual countenance.

“Hey there,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eye, “couldn’t get into my room. Think I could crash—” the boy stopped midsentence to yawn and hiccup, his face flushed pink, “crash here?”

“Did you walk home from the bar?” You asked, disregarding his inquiry. 

“No, Jihoon drove me.” Joshua answered, bracing his hand against the threshold. “Pretty please? Can I stay?”

“Fine.”

You took the dark green guitar case from Joshua’s back, stamped with numerous luggage stickers that made it seem as though he’d flown all over the globe. After settling the case beside the couch, you helped Joshua lie down, though he flopped rather ungracefully with his face squished into a pillow.

For an awkward moment, you were just standing there, twiddling your thumbs as Joshua squirmed onto his back.

“Do you want a glass of water?” You proposed.

Joshua carded a hand through his brown locks and further dishevelled them. His face seemed to glow and the manner in which his eyes softly shut had you feeling oddly sympathetic. Like you needed to take care of him.

Rather than answering your question, Joshua sighed.

“I can’t believe you flaked on me.” He said. “I looked forward to seeing you there all week. I told my friends about you.”

Your toes dug into the carpet; teeth fastened into your bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if he was rambling drunken nonsense or being wholly truthful. Joshua titled his head to the side, nestling his cheek comfortably against the pillow.

“Like I said, there’ll be another time.”

“Can I have a blanket?” He mumbled sleepily.

Disappearing into your bedroom for a moment, you grabbed Joshua a spare blanket which often lied next to you on the bed, just in case it got a little too cold at night. Your heating was fairly shabby.

“Here you go.” You said, dropping it on him.

After pulling the fabric up to his chin and spending a minute getting comfy, Joshua started smiling, lashes long against his cheeks.

“Appreciate it.” He replied. ”Kick me out early if you want.”

When Joshua scheduled his next gig at the bar, you made sure to be there, settled near the back at the cocktail counter. As you anticipated, the space filled up quickly, and you kept tucking in your legs whenever someone scooted by to use the washroom or find a better vantage point. You didn’t mention that you were coming. It was supposed to be a surprise which had oddly excited you. Like you were someone important to him, even though you probably weren’t.

You enjoyed his band’s performance. While sipping at something syrupy and a little too cherry flavoured, you couldn’t help but smile behind the glass, shake your foot even, as Joshua strummed down on the electric guitar. There was a pink-haired drummer seated behind him, and a bassist with a dashing, heavenly smile. Eventually, the tone of their music shifted near the end of the set. Joshua exchanged his electric guitar for the acoustic one kept in that dark green, stickered case. And when he started to sing a slower, more sentimental song, you felt something cotton-like in your chest.

How could his voice be this soft? How could it turn so sweet? How could his eyes switch from a powerful ripple to calm water? And why were you heating up all over? The glass hit your knee as you continued to watch Joshua sing, as though you’d fallen into a trance, like a sailor caught by the lullaby of a siren.

But then, as your eyes scanned the crowd for a brief moment, they attached to some who looked awfully familiar.

Goddammit. Of course.

Why did your stupid ex have to be everywhere? 

Why did they have to invade every aspect of your life? Especially the enjoyable parts? Once the stage ended and Joshua began thanking the crowd for an energetic reaction, they turned around and grabbed their friend excitedly. Yet, the thrill on their face disappeared the second they noticed you, glaring bitterly, angrily, still clearly hurt. That’s when you decided to leave.

You were halfway down the block when you heard your name being shouted. Pausing beneath a street lamp, you attempted to peer through the heavy flurries sweeping down from the night sky. A silhouette began to take shape. Joshua finally pressed through into the light, without his jacket, his equipment, or even a damn sweater.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” You questioned him, wondering how cold he must be feeling in that white t-shirt.

Joshua took a few more steps forward. “I saw you there,” he replied, still trying to catch his breath, “but then you just stormed out. I nearly threw myself down the back entrance trying to catch up with you, y’know. How do you walk that damn fast?”

“I just—I wanted to beat the crowd home.” You lied.

Joshua took in another big breath, then nodded his head. “So, what did you think? You like the music?”

“It’s cool… Why did you leave without a jacket? I mean, it’s snowing like crazy. You’re gonna get hypothermia or something.”

“Well, I didn’t want to let you get away.” The boy laughed, brushing off some flurries compiling on his shoulder. “It was great to see you there. But, why didn’t you tell me? Why the secrecy.”

You shrugged. “Why should I tell you?”

At that, you weren’t expecting Joshua to have a response. Maybe he’d be a little puzzled and have to think about it. Instead, he seemed to be formulating a surprise of his own.

“Because I have a song for you,” Joshua revealed, “I wrote it with Jihoon. It’s an acoustic thing. But I could turn it hard rock too.”

It felt like someone had turned the table. Ironically, you were the one struggling to reply, your brow furrowing in the dim light as you stared at this boy with his glowing cheeks and his hair disrupted by the flakes of snow. You sniffled, cold air hitting your lungs.

“Why would you write a song about me?”

No one had ever done such a gesture for you before. Not that you had been acquainted with many musicians or lyricists. You felt strange, but also warm, and heart-fluttery, and like you were possibly falling for someone harder than ever before. Joshua approached you tentatively and grabbed your hand, his eyes soft.

“Probably because I like you.” Joshua murmured. “A lot.”

Your heart started to pound, and it felt like someone was banging their fists against your chest. Even if you had denied it in the beginning, the truth was that you liked Joshua too. And yet, those reciprocating words somehow fell to the bottom of your feet. Because as much as you wanted it, you still weren’t ready for someone new.

“Joshua…” you squeezed his hand and looked into those endearing eyes of his, “I-I can’t right now. I was in a relationship not too long ago, and now that’s over, but I’m still trying to get over it. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

The boy shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry.” Joshua answered, running his thumb between your knuckles. “You’re not ready, I get it.”

Breathing out slowly, you smiled at him. 

You were yanking open all the drawers in the kitchen, trying to remember where exactly you had stuck that little metal whisk. A bowl of unmixed cupcake batter was waiting to be stirred. Each year that it was open, you signed up for the Complex Gift Exchange, and it just so happened that sixty-five-year-old Miss Dupont really liked vanilla cupcakes. You pulled out the drawer that had been hiding the ruined, stained paper courtesy of your paint by numbers kit.

Rolling your eyes, you slammed it shut, only to realize you’d left the whisk sitting behind the big bag of flour on the counter.

Even though you had turned down Joshua that one night in the snow, he didn’t act spiteful or weird about it. And somehow, you two had grown closer since. Joshua was very easy to talk to. He was a good listener. No matter how many times you ran into each other on the elevator, or at the supermarket, the letter boxes in the lobby or at the car lot, Joshua always made time to listen to whatever mishap had bothered you that day. He still railed on his electric guitar every now and then, though you were beginning to accept it. Baby steps.

Apparently, one of his bandmates was visiting today. 

You knew exactly when he’d arrived too, because as soon as you pulled the cupcakes out from the oven to cool, this wave of intense sound; drumming, symbols, guitar, everything, exploded from the floor above, like someone had just thrown a clump of instruments into a hurricane. You stared up at the ceiling winsomely and sighed.

Dressed in a long, thick winter coat, you went outside the complex to visit the garden, now blanketed by snow and sparkling white. You brushed off the bench that had once sat before a fiery pink row of petunias and took a seat. It was much quieter.

“Hey!”

Or so you thought.

Turning around, you gazed up at the apartment complex, spotting two familiar faces hanging out from a fourth story window.

“What?!” You shouted back.

Joshua grinned, then cupped his hands around his mouth as an amplifier. “Were we being too loud?!” He asked.

“Yeah!” His friend yelled. “Were we too loud?!” You had learned the other face was Jihoon, the band drummer, his hair now a rusty shade of crimson. He helped write most of their music.

“No, I’m just sitting out here in the wind and snow and below zero temperatures because I want to!” You replied at the top of your lungs.

Waving at you apologetically, Joshua kept smiling. “Sorry! I’m gonna kick him out soon!” He pointed at Jihoon. “If you want, you can come up here and listen to our last rehearsal!”

Jihoon shoved Joshua’s head out of the way.

“Don’t come up here!” The drummer exclaimed. “It’s not even close to ready yet. He’s just saying that because he’s in—”

A hand clamped swiftly to the boy’s mouth, muffling the remainder of his sentence like it was top secret. Joshua then dragged him away from the open window. Quirking an eyebrow in confusion, you stared at the vacant space until Joshua reappeared a moment later, scratching the back of his head and looking sheepish.

“Sorry about that!” Joshua called. “We’re almost done!”

“I’m in no rush!” You answered, turning back around.

It was true. There weren’t too many pressing things you needed to get done today, besides making the buttercream frosting for Miss Dupont’s cupcakes. The weather wasn’t even as terrible as you made it seem. The wind was light, and the shining sun helped mitigate the usual bitterness of winter. It was quite nice out.

Until about ten minutes later, when Joshua threw a snowball at your back. You spun around quickly, glaring at the boy who was dusting his hands clean of snow, standing near the complex doorway. In that moment, you wanted to be angry at him. But, to be honest, you felt like laughing instead.

“Shouldn’t I be the one throwing snowballs at you?”

Joshua shrugged. “If you could even hit me.”

“Keep your eyes open tonight, Joshua Hong.” You comically threatened him. “Where are you going, anyways?”

“I have to get my person a gift for the exchange thing.” He said, pulling a hat over his hair. “And a new guitar pick.”

“Have fun with that.”

Then, waiting for him to turn around, you hastily packed together a snowball and threw it against the back of his coat.

Miss Dupont somehow figured out who was responsible for her gift. She asked you to give her the cupcakes early, because she swore, she was had been able to smell them baking through the air ducts. Maybe you added too much vanilla. Everyone was supposed to exchange their gifts tomorrow, leaving them by the door or delivering them in person. You didn’t have a clue as to who could be preparing your gift. As long as it wasn’t another candle wreath to collect dust in your closet, you figured you’d be fine with it.

Tonight would be your last opportunity in a long while to watch Joshua’s band perform at the downtown bar. You’d missed their last show, ruminating over the possibility of encountering your ex again; feeling those horrible emotions which were nothing more than poison in disguise. After the New Year, Joshua was planning to visit South Korea with his bandmates for a few weeks. It would be awfully strange to not hear another symphony from his electric guitar, or Jihoon’s drumkit. Jeonghan never really stopped by much.

It was at least an hour or so before Joshua was scheduled to perform. So, you decided to walk down the street to the lane of trees now wrapped and curled with lights. There were small, twinkling white lights. Large, blue lights shaped like hanging icicles. Some blinked in a specific pattern while others morphed colours. At night, it made quite the spectacle. Many people had stopped, much like yourself, to admire the aurora and pull their significant other a little bit closer. You huffed, hating this lonesomeness inside you.

But then you felt a quick pair of fingers dance up your back, and immediately recognized his eyes shining like stars.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you at the lights.” Joshua remarked, zipping up his jacket. “They’ve been up for a while now.”

“It’s always a magnet for couples.” You told him, glancing around at all the handholding and heads leaned adoringly on shoulders. “And I am—well, I was, standing here alone.” Inside your coat pocket, you played with a piece of lint, realizing that perhaps you finally felt ready and significantly healed to consider another relationship.

Looking at you from the corner of his eye, Joshua nodded.

It seemed as though the lights were a place he visited frequently, even amongst all the couples. To you, Joshua seemed like someone who was inspired by love. The not so subtle nature of awkward yet enamored eye contact which made people giggly. Holding onto the very tips of someone’s fingers because you couldn’t let go of their hand even for a second. Pressing an ear to a comfortable chest, listening for a rhythmic, thumping heartbeat. You bet he liked kisses too. Quick kisses on cheeks and gentle kisses on noses and slow, warm kisses to the mouth which could set a fire in your belly.

Out of the blue, you asked him something personal.

“How fast do you usually fall for someone?”

Joshua’s eyes traced the twinkling lights of the tree, all the way to the very top.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it.”

Kicking at a lump of hard snow, you sighed. “I think I fall too quickly. Maybe that’s why my last relationship ended the way it did. I just… I don’t know, it could be that I jumped in without knowing what’s beneath me. I don’t want that to happen again.”

The boy glanced at you, snowflakes already beginning to stick in his hair. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with taking things slow. I mean, there’s always going to be some chance in a relationship. You don’t know until you’re in it.”

“I guess so.” You replied. “When I think about it, anything’s better than getting text message-dumped right before a family dinner.” Joshua wasn’t a stranger to the humiliating affairs of your past relationship. One night, after one too many beverages at the bar, you introduced him to the entire story.

“Bad luck.” The boy said.

“Bad taste, more like.” You sighed. “I mean, what was I thinking?”

Joshua shook his head, his hand rubbing your shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up. Seriously, the right person will come along.”

Short laughter burst through your nose, and you looked at him with a knowing, lighthearted grin. “Are you supposed to be that person, Joshua Hong?”

“I’d like to think I am.” He chuckled, his cheeks getting rosier. “But I know you’re not ready. I can be patient, though.”

“So, you’re going to wait for me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joshua nodded. “For you, and you only? Of course.”

At that, something deep in your chest began to stir. The feeling robbed you of your words and left you breathless. Afraid of what you might do in the silence between you, quickly, you changed the subject.

“Am I going to hear that special song you wrote? Or have you scrapped it already?”

“You’ll hear it.” Joshua said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an ivory guitar pick. “Save your applause for the very end, though. I know you might be tempted to start cheering, come up on stage in front of everyone and try to kiss me or something.”

Rolling your eyes, you started to laugh, your breath becoming a thin cloud in the still coldness of winter.

“You wish, Joshua Hong.”

He sighed, a faint smirk on his lips. “You’re right. I do.”

At approximately five o’clock in the morning, you were awakened by a fist banging at your front door. For a moment, you believed it was nothing more than part of a fuzzy dream, and simply tossed over in bed as your arms dug further under the pillow. However, the banging resumed almost instantly, and though it was very muffled, someone was calling your name.

Groaning, you dragged yourself from between the sheets and into the washroom, taking a quick sip of water before splashing some to your face. In a loose pair of shorts and a poorly adjusted tank-top, you stumbled to the front door, throwing it open while yawning.

“J-Joshua?” You mumbled, rubbing circles to your eye.

He stood on the opposite side of the threshold with a glimmery-red gift bag in his hand. For some reason, he was dressed in his jacket, those dark brown locks of his seeming damp or partly soaking as they were brushed back from his forehead. His cheeks and mouth were rosy, eyes glistering, and he was breathing deep.

You thought he looked gorgeous.

“Hey!” He exclaimed a little too loudly, as though he’d forgotten how early it was. “So, uh, weird news. Turns out we’re leaving for South Korea today, and we have to catch this seven-am flight. We’re kinda pressed for time. Jeonghan’s been helping me throw all my shit into these suitcases and—anyways, besides the point.” Taking in another breath, Joshua then held up the pretty red gift bag. “I got you for the Gift Exchange. Well—not really. But I made Mrs. Akané switch with me. This is for you.”

The sudden splurge of information had for feeling even more disorientated than when you first awakened. Joshua had to leave already? Had he been packing ever since you walked home together from his show? He pulled strings to get you for the Gift Exchange?

Reaching into the bag and pushing around some tissue paper, you pulled out a rectangular-shaped kit. It felt fairly heavy.

And then you realized just what he’d gotten you.

“Really?” You smiled, letting the bag drop to the floor because all you cared about was the project in your hands. “Another paint by numbers kit? I didn’t even know they sold these here!”

Joshua nodded, brushing some melted drops of snow off his cheek. “It wouldn’t have arrived on time if I ordered it online. Trust me, it was a process. I had to get Jeonghan’s grandma to make some calls because she’s friends with this craft store lady.” He half-sighed, half-laughed. “I just remembered you were so upset about it when I met you. About a lot of things. And I never stopped feeling sorry. I know I laughed at it and everything, but I thought it was cute.”

You brought the project to sit on the dinner table. Looking outside into the street light, you were shocked at how heavily it was snowing. Huge, fluffy clumps. No wonder Joshua’s hair was so damp and his skin so flushed. You couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, you were sitting on that barstool near the back of the dim room, listening to him sing and feeling like you were starting to love all over again. Now, Joshua was being whisked away.

“I should really get going.” Joshua said, rubbing his pink nose, “Jeonghan and Jihoon are waiting for me down there.”

“W-Wait!” You exclaimed before the boy could disappear.

Joshua paused, though you could read the look of urgence coloured to his face. It was merely a few seconds you stood in that spot, fiddling anxiously with your fingers and struggling to take another step, yet it felt as though time had stretched itself out like plasticine. 

And even though it was slightly terrifying, you had never felt so warm and full of thrill until you had crossed the space to kiss him. Your hands pushed against Joshua’s chest, searching for stability, as you experienced the soft sensation of your lips pressed so desperately to his. Joshua grabbed your cheek in his cold hand to tilt your head a little more left. He stared at you with a hazy, sort of dreamlike look, just for a moment, before kissing you again.

“Am I making you late?” You laughed breathily in between the heated breadth of another kiss.

Joshua shook his head, taking your face in both his hands, moulding his mouth against yours in a smile.

“They can wait just a minute longer,” he answered, “I can’t believe you’re doing this right when I have to leave. You’re really screwing me over, here.”

“Then finish it when you get back.” You smirked.

This time, you were certain of something: you hadn’t jumped too soon. You weren’t going to crash. You were falling in love.

✧✎ a/n: the end the end!! happy holidays !! <3 honestly think it’s kind of the dream to get joshua as ur apartment neighbour xoxo. HOPE U LIKED THIS DANI AND THAT IT GAVE YOU SOME SMILES heheh. i actually haven’t written for joshua in quite a while so i rly appreciated getting to experiment with this. i also love the idea of joshua in a band and being a sappy romantic who always writes abt his future muse ;_; i’m not a huge fluff person BUT I WILL GLADLY GIVE UP EVERYTHING FOR THAT! 

[yandere-wishes]

Sacrificial Bride Part 1//Twisted Wonderland X Reader//

Alright well, that's enough writing for the next few days if you excuse me I'm going to go sulk in my corner. Huge thanks to @softyswork​ who’s story about reader being sent to Malleus as a bride inspired this series. Also, I REALLY want to make some sort of modern-day Frankenstein it would be an amazing scientific breakthrough! You'll understand what I mean when you get to Idia's part lol.

💚🐉Malleus Draconia🐉💚

It was a common rumor around your village that ever since the death of the sleeping princess your settlement had never been the same. For you, this was nothing more than a fairy tale meant to spark a scrap of hope in the hearts of naive, suffering children who were still too young to fully understand why their fathers never returned from their hunting trips or why there was barely anything to eat for dinner.

Every time you heard this dreaded tail, you couldn't help but scuff. For as long as you've been alive your town had been in utter disarray and chaos. Monsters from the woods -what the town's folk called "fae"- attacked the village daily. Stealing jewels, destroying homes, sometimes even swallowing children or sucking the blood of the dormant. There was also the looming threat of the green flames. Blazing emerald fires who couldn't be subdued by neither water nor dirt. They advanced further into the territory of the village by each full cycle of the moon. Leaving behind in their trail, thick impenetrable thorn bushes that had taken the homes of many and the lives of many more.

Awful, dreaded creatures those fae where...

But alas you did not yet know just how cruel they could be.

On another periodic morning, your younger sister jolted you awake, dragging you to the town center before you got a chance to change out of your nightgown.

In the center of the square was short man..no...not a man you noticed his pointed drawn back ears. "Fae" you gasped under your breath. But unlike the monstrous fairies that ravished your town taking on the appearances of trees and woodland creatures, this one resembled a boy of 15. The young-looking male began to speak, his voice was clear like crystals, and to his tone bats began to flock overhead. "Truly dreadful, these fairy folk are" your sister uttered in terror as she buried her face in your side.

"Heed my words, mortals. The young prince of thorns has decided to take a wife. By the setting of the sun a full day from today, two of his guards will come to collect your offering. If you chose to disregard this Wa-- friendly advice, then what is left of your town will be decimated before the end of summer. Your children eaten, wives imprisoned and husbands killed!" An unsteady hush rippled through the crowd. Some hothead youths began to throw rocks at the stranger only for the bats hovering above to shield him from the stones. Mothers hugged their children close begging for the man to "just leave".

"If" the man's voice rose once more like a cadaver emerging from the grave " my young master is pleased with your sacrifice than we shall reward you! Bring good health and prosperity to your otherwise sick and decaying village." His last words melted into the open air before he vanished in a cloud of squealing bats and ebony smoke.

The town's folk erupted in screeches, cursing at their deities while simultaneously praying to any god that would listen.

"Help us!"

"save us!"

"Don't let them take our daughters!"

The screams escalated to the point where you had to cover your ears with your shaking hands. Your eyes scanning each of the villager's faces, a pathetic lot they were, you thought to yourself. Scared by the words of a young magician. In a flash, your heart sped up, adrenaline pumping through your veins, as you marched to the center square where the boy had been mere moments ago. You stood tall, cupping your hands over your mouth.

"Listen well you disquiet, mindless lot!"

All eyes turned to you. Some holding looks of confusion, whilst others harbored glances of hope.

"This fae is lying! No way will they be satisfied with just one measly girl! No matter who we sacrifice to their so-called master, they'll still come after us! They'll still destroy our village! Let's not be stupid! Let's find a way to barricade the city instead of arguing over who to sacrifice!"

For an endless second all was quite. It was like the world had stopped turning, frozen in its place in the universe trying to decide what to do.

Then it happened,

Chants reverberating through the air

"Sacrifice her!" "Sacrifice her!"

"Sacrifice her!" "Sacrifice her!"

"Sacrifice her!"........................

WHAT!

NO!

DID THOSE MORONS NOT LISTEN TO A SINGLE WORD YOU SAID!

The crowd started advancing. Eyes locked on your figure like those of a leopard on its prey.  Their mouths were all a gap, chanting the words "sacrifice" over and over again. From behind the mob, your eyes locked with your sister's. You could practically feel the despair rolling off her figure as she covered her eyes and fell to her knees, her whole body rattling with a sort of distant rage...

A full day....it's funny how time passes all so quickly no matter what you do. Day in and day out nothing changes, pain is still pain, laughter is still laughter. Time just keeps slipping from between your fingers like sand. Even in the direst of times, Time doesn't show mercy, never once does it cease. It just ticks and ticks away until the inevitable moment arrives.

Your sister and aunt -the only two relatives that you hadn't lost to the fae- were in charge of preparing you for your so-called "wedding". Since your town was poor and isolated from other civilizations there wasn't much they could do to enhance your beauty. Smashing some berries to add color to your lips -and fervently ravishing the remains- using some coal to add shade behind your eyes, as well as around them and patting the dust of rose petals against your cheek. By the end, you hardly recognized the person staring back from the mirror. Sure the adjustments were minor but this was the most stunning you'd ever looked. "Is it almost time" your voice quivered, failing to hide the tears that began to fall. "Please don't cry sweetheart, we don't have any more coal to fix your eyes with." Your aunt's tone was monotone almost bordering on heartless. You couldn't really blame her, she'd gotten so used to having her loved ones plucked from her. One more would be no different. Sniffing as to keep the tears at bay, you nodded slowly. Your glossy eyes locked with your aunt's you could see the same fear and exhaustion in her fading irises as the night her son was slaughtered in front of her.

"Just a few reminders" your sister's voice was cheery like the chirping of early morning birds, but her face mimicked that of a kicked puppies. "Remember when the prince...fae...when he..you know...Oh, Lord please tell me he won't" She was shivering again. Her face twisted in horror. You knew what she was thinking, she was imagining you laying in the bed of that...that thing. She was imagining him entering you, kissing up and down your neck. Leaving patches of red skin over smooth flesh, bruises wherever his clawed hands touched you. She was imagining what was no doubt going to happen to you tonight...

the mere thought made bile rise to your throat.

"Darling, just keep saying how much you like it. It's all any man wants to hear." again your aunt or rather her lackluster form of speech was the rope binding you to your sanity.

"Do fae even have...those parts like humans do?" Your sister asked, only to be met with a glare from your aunt. "Stop wasting time on pointless questions! Hurry up and see if this dress fits your sister."

Sure enough, as you were escorted to where the thorn bushes met the village, two men, one standing tall and proud, whilst the other looked like he may topple over from fatigue at any moment, were awaiting you.

The green-haired man let out a haughty laugh, his blazing eyes scanning you from head to toe. "She's hardly worthy of the young master!" His dreadful voice was like the booming of thunder clouds. "It doesn't matter, Malleus-sama needs to be wedded off quickly so he can produce an heir. None of us are getting any younger by standing here debating the "worthiness" of yet another measly human" the silver-haired male's voice was the exact opposite of his comrades, his voice was soft and breathy like light drizzle after a storm.

The green-haired man looked ready to argue once more, but before he could open his mouth, his violet-eyed counterpart waved something thin in the air casing a pathway to open between the hedges.

It was dark between the brambles. The air was thick, stuffy, every breath was a struggle. Although it seemed neither of your traveling buddies minded the discomfort. Did fae even need air to survive?

After what could have been no less than a couple of hours, your small group made it to a large clearing where only a few rays of the sun leaked through the thick smoky clouds. Miss matched flowers in shades of grey littered the rocky barren ground. Maybe at some point, this place had been beautiful, stunning even...but whenever that time had been it was long gone now.

As you ventured farther into this monochrome land of loss and sorrow, the three of you approached a castle. It towered over everything else, grim in all its glory. "Young master Malleus is awaiting you inside..." The green-haired male's voice trailed off as his speech was interrupted by the deafening creaking of the doors parting open. Without another word the two men dragged you inside, pushing you through spiral staircases and long bleak passageways. Until you arrived at a lavish-looking room, a large throne sitting smugly in the front of the room. It's black, spiked appearance was enough to make you gasp in horror, you didn't desire to meet the monster that perched atop that throne. "Don't be so afraid." the silver-haired man whispers, his head is almost resting on your shoulder. "Malleus-sama is kind and fair. He is sure to love you better than any human ever could." you catch a hint of nostalgic sadness in the last part, like a long lost part of the lavender eyed boy's past caught in his throat like a glass shard.

Trumpets roared through the room blaring as two men, one short and fickle whilst the other tall and brooding walked in. "Malleus~" The short one sang as they both stopped in front of you "Say hello to your lovely new wife." the tall man's emerald eyes landed on you. His lips parted in a threatening smile...or maybe it was a smirk? He didn't seem to be too good at displaying emotions. Slowly he descended onto one knee, slipping your hand into his and kissing the top lightly.

"Hello, my darling little wife."

🧡🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁🧡

The After Glow Savanna was an absolute hell to be born in if your family did not belong to some royal inner court class. The endless days spent scavenging for scraps of food, walking miles for a simple glass of water, had become a sort of broken, habit beaten into the residents of the smaller less fortunate districts.

Eventually, you too would follow in your parent's footsteps, working odd jobs around the neighborhood, getting married to some guy, having kids, and giving them the same dreary life your parents had given you. It was simple -miserable- but simple never the less. In an odd way, you found a sort of comfort in how everything was set in stone. How you'd suffer through a few years then die of starvation or some disease in your husband's arms.

But little did you know that the only comfort you had in your horrible life was also going to be swiped from you.

When Ruggie, a dear childhood friend of yours returned from his prestigious school for the winter holidays you were overjoyed! A week with your best friend was the greatest gift you could ask for! But that excitement soon dulled when he announced to the neighborhood what the royal family had planned for the underdeveloped parts of the country.

"They want to demolish the homes and build parks and shopping strips instead"

The people of your tiny community gasped, shock and hopelessness mixing over their dirty, worn out faces. Some older siblings shielded the ears of their younger kin, some mothers hugged their children closer to their chests. "They can't do that to us!" Your voice was like a beacon through the thick fog of confusion. "We can't let them!" You turned to Ruggie who was seated next to you. His blue-grey eyes held a foreign sadness that you had never seen before. He was hiding something...something so grim that he was forced to shove it into the depths of his soul, locking it up and throwing away the key.

"There is a way..."

For such a hopeful phrase, Ruggie's tone harbored no happiness. You could practically see the tears that were clouding his beautiful eyes. "Tell us" someone from the crowd demanded, others soon joined in with their own chants. For a long moment, Ruggie said nothing, the shouts of despair falling on deaf ears.

"If.." his voice trailed off, as his gaze grew distant.

"If someone from the neighborhood were to marry the second prince..." Gasps of fear filled the air. Even the mere mention of the second prince's name was enough to send chills down people's spins.

"Then they could, as the newly appointed  princess, convince the royal family and counsel to scrap this monstrous plan." No one uttered another word. No one was brave enough to face the man who could destroy anything with a simple touch.

But the sake of these people, people who had nothing but their families and a muddy roof over their head was on the line.

Do something, a tiny voice in your head screamed, save them, it begged. You shifted your head so to get a glimpse of Ruggie's face. "I-" you began but were cut off before you could even finish.

"I know you would say that."

His voice broke over every syllable. He knew you would give up your depressing nostalgia for the sake of others. Life in the castle would be hell, being married to that monster would be something worst than the dwellings of the devil.

It was a speedy arrangement, so fast that your head didn't have time to process anything. In the end, it almost seemed like the royal family was desperate to find a spouse for their youngest son.

Just marry him! Was what all the absentee looks told you.

Early that morning, Ruggie had dragged you to the castle, all tears, and grumbles. The palace guards let him in with no restrain, it almost felt like he'd been here before. Your childhood friend led you to a room in the further corner of a grand hall. He told you to stay outside as he went in to chat with the prince. Moments later the newly appointed king and queen came to usher you into a privet room and discuss the marriage. Not an hour later your fate had been sealed, you'd be married off to prince Leona tomorrow at sunrise. For "historical purposes" your neighborhood would be preserved and even taken care of. 'Historical purposes' you thought 'more the like a bribe to get you to marry this beast.

that night you were dragged this way and that by the queen herself. Taken for fitting after fitting. Trying on hundreds of wedding dresses who's prices could feed every mouth in your neighborhood for months! "Leona isn't very classy" the queen sighed in disappear. "He would probably prefer you to be in something laxer, shorter if you will" the tailors ran around trying to find something that would fit her vague description, as you stood facing her royal highness.

"What's he like?" you asked soullessly

"Spoiled, although not as heartless as the rumors make him out to be"  She didn't seem to like giving straight answers

"will he harm me? It was an honest question, although the lack of thinking it took before the queen replied made your heart skipped a beat.

"Quite possibly, he is rather...aggressive at times. Just don't let his degrading comments get to you. He's not used to being around people"

The more she described the second-born prince the more it seemed she was actually speaking of some feral dog that had raised in isolation.

Oh, how doomed you were.

The wedding was even faster than the preparation. Ruggie walked you down an aisle of flowers, walking over the petals, killing them once and for all, ending their pointless existence. You stood by your self at the altar awaiting your husband to be. It took a rather long time before the doors were flung open and the king waltzed in carrying his struggling brother under his arm. "No need to worry, Leona was taking one of his catnaps again and forgot about today's events" the king announced, in what could only be described as a mock lively tone.

How on earth does someone forget their wedding! This prince really wasn't a typical human...heck you where beginning to think that the feral dog would have made a better groom.

snap, snap

A few magazine pictures here, a couple of family photos there...

Everything was so bright and loud...

right before you and the second prince were thrown into the darkness of his room. In the obscurity, you could ONLY make out the glowing of his emerald eyes.

You could feel him shifting closer, all the while you took shaking steps backwards. " I thought wives were supposed to leap into the arms of their husbands? Tell me little herbivore do I frighten you?"

Your voice refused to leave your throat, too afraid to come into contact with the prince.

"What's the matter? Did they not teach you to speak in on the streets you grew up on. Poor thing~"

Leona pounced across the room, tackling you to the ground. His sheer weight pinning you to the carpeted floor. The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the silence.

How careless these royal were was the only intelligible thought that came to your frenzied brain.

Goosebumps littered your skin as Leona's claws cut into your flesh. His lips kissed over each wound as he made his way up to your cherry painted lips.

"You look so cute, you know, like a little mouse about to get devoured by a starving lion."

💙💀Idia Shroud💀💙

The rhythm of his heartbeat was slowing down, it felt like the patter of ants atop one's flesh. He was dying...this was an irreversible fact. The love of your life was dying and there was nothing you could do but sit idly by and watch the life fade from his pale bruised face. Your thumb ran over his knuckles in robotic-like strokes. Hours had passed, you'd shed all the tears that you had. He was gone...that was all there was to it.

For a hopeless second, you flicked your eyes to the open window on the opposite side of the room, There was never any sun on the island of lamination but regardless today seemed brighter than any other day. "How cruel" you muttered in a deadpan voice. Outside something...or better yet...someone was running through the fields, chasing what looked like a butterfly. The young child had blazing blue hair a symbol of the Shroud family...

THE SHROUD FAMILY

Your breath hitch in your lungs, your heart began to pound furiously in your chest. They could help you though hopefully. There family where distant relatives of the god of the underworld and a few years back -to your regulation- the hair of the family had been able to semi revive his younger brother. If he was able to bring back a child from the dead than surly they would have no problem returning your lost lover to you.

Your eyes waltz over his dormant face one last time before you got up and ran for the door.

"This is all for you my love, all of this is for you"

The Shroud family mansion was located at the top of one of the many hills that plagued the island. It was a dark grisly building that resembled the castles from old tales, where monsters laid dormant. Rumors spiraled around the rural civilization, some saying that the family was cursed by the lord of the dead, whilst others claimed that the shroud family were the long lost descendants of the lord of the dead and the maiden of spring. The curse had been placed on the family by the temperamental mother of the maiden of spring, anathematizing the family to be plagued with death and disappear for the rest of eternity.

Regardless of what their misfortune was, they may very well be the last people on earth who could help you. Surely if the family had brought back their youngest than they could bring back your lover!

You knuckles tapped furiously at the old metal doors of the frightful residence. The rhythm was unkept, unsteady, it's mere sound radiated urgency.

"PLEASE HELP ME"

Your throat burned as you screamed out those three lousy words.

After what felt like forever, the doors cracked open, revealing a tall man obscured by the shadows. Any light that touched the interior of the house seemed to die acidity, making peering inside nearly impossible.

"What business do you have?" The man's voice was croaky as if his vocal cords hadn't been used in years. For a split second, you closed your eyes, trying to organize the thoughts in your head. "My...my...h-hus...lover, my lover is d-dead...o-or rather he is dying....probably fully gone by now..." despite the mess of stuttered letters and mixed-up words, the man seemed to understand your situation. With a long sigh, he pulled you into the somber house.

Fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist he pulled you around, guiding you through the darkness until you reached a large room lit only by the mysterious blue flames of the fireplace. Sitting by the warmth was a...well it was hard to tell, her face -despite it displaying every bone of her visage coupled with dark sunken eyes- resembled that of a woman no older than thirty, whilst her body resembled a decaying skeleton. What was she? Was she the lady of the residence or yet another monster this bizarre family had created.

"My, love" the man began to speak, his voice was somehow cleared like it had been given some sort of jolt. "This young lady needs Idia's help, she wants to bring back her lover from the dead."

The woman said nothing, her eyes staring ahead, burning a hole in the wall right by your head. "What will she give him in return" despite her "deteriorating" appearance her voice was like soft silk on one's skin, melodious and fair.

"Why herself!" This time the man's voice boomed across the house, echoing through the hallways and falling on you like a cave in.

"M-myself! What the hell do you mean!"

"It sounds fair" the women agreed "my darling sweet son saves your lover and instead you agree to marry him! Oh how wonderful, just like in the tales about grandfather Hades!"

She seemed too thrilled about this, her snow-white eyes gleaming with a sort of delusional passion.

"Idia! Idia honey! Come down your father has a surprise for you!"

The hollow sound of footsteps soon filled the quiet air. Followed by another soft blue glow.

Was there no normal fire in this house?

But it wasn't fire, not exactly. When your eyes fell on the heir of the Shroud family, you suddenly felt a nervous wave crash over you. There was something -even more- unsettling about him, he looked nothing like his charming little brother. For one his hair wasn't...well hair! Sure you'd expect a small batch of blazes heading upwards but this was something else entirely! It resembled a large bonfire that floated towards the ground, rouge sparks falling in every which direction, sizzling and then dying abandoned on the floor. And his eyes, Miosis like pupils floating around in a pool of lemon yellow.

But all the physical appearances aside, the most unsettling thing about him was the gloomy aura that leaked off him, suffocating anyone in his presence. Nervously you took a step back only to be yanked forward again by the taller man.

"Idia baby!" His mother ran over to him, cradling his hands in hers "This cute young lady has agreed to marry you if you can save her lover, just like in that old tale about your great grandfather! Oh, my this is all so romantic!"

It seemed like no one here understood that you were in love WITH SOMEONE ELSE! Or maybe they did and chose to disregard it. Instead, using the bits they retained as kindling to feed their raw excitement. You shifted your gaze back to Idia's face. To your utter terror, he was...smiling? Could that...look...even be called a smile? It seemed more like the way a shark would bare its teeth at a defenseless seal! Oh, gods please don't let this...thing...be your future husband!

"It should be easy enough," His golden gaze landed on you "W-when did...did he die?" it took a few moments before you register that he was talking to you or technically asking you something. "A...A  few..." your voice cracked, tears streaming down your eyes.

"So recently...okay that shouldn't be a p-problem." He turned on his heels and walked back into the seclusion of the halls "I'll grab some things and meet you by the front door"

A few things ended up being a pile of wires and bolts. Something that looked like a light blue ball of energy and so many tools whose names seemed to go over your head.

Idia was kneeling by your lover's bed, pulling apart the skin and fusing metal in its place. Your darling's chest was cracked open, his ribs poking out towards the sky as if praying for life from the lord of the sky. Every once in awhile Idia would pull out a long tool with smoke floating from the top. He'd lay it on an organ watching as the tissue fiber sizzled away under the heat. He would then tie wires and small circular batteries inside.

"His heart stopped working, I'm guessing from some sort of shock"

You just hummed in response, too caught up in how the man you loved was beginning to look like a modern-day Frankenstein rather than a human being.

The sun had long since faded when Idia finally got up from his spot. His bones cracked and screeched at the sudden change, his muscles giving out halfway leaving him to rely on the wall for support to stand. Your lover's chest had been sewn back and covered with a silver piece of metal. His neck was wrapped in the same sort of alloy. His left arm had been cut open so Idia could shove the energy ball inside than cover it, leaving a small enough gap for wires that stretched from his chest to weld into the ball.

"He just needs a boost" Idia murmured that shark-like grin overtaking his pale face once more. From the side table, he plucked up to jumper cables and clipped them on either side of his neck. Jolts and crackles filled the room and sparks flew in every direction, the once-dead body shuffled around, arms and legs moving at random. You shrieked and duck behind Idia.

Only then did he pry the clips from his neck.

Nothing

for too long nothing happened... then there was a slight wiggle in one finger, then another. His eyes slowly began to prey open, looking over his surroundings. The moment his confused gaze feel onto you. Idia turned you around to face him, clumsily smashing his blue chapped lips onto yours.

From the corner of his eyes, Idia watched as the other man began to understand what was happening...even if he was just resurrected there was still agony at the sight of his lover kissing another...

Good! That should show him who you belonged to now!

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

The Night of the First Mistake

Sequel to

Synopsis: pre X-orcist, almost a year after Nightmare's death, Dream is still not on top of his grief and causes him to resort to desperate measures.

Tw mentions of death/dead loved ones.

X-orcist au belongs to me and @zu-is-here

Dreams, Demons and Desires is by me.

Enjoy

Almost a year had past since he'd last seen Nightmare. The skeleton couldn't say he had mourned him, but the news of his death had been unfortunate to say the least. Who could have seen someone like Nightmare dying in such a preventable way? Not him, that's for sure.

He was a friend... Or at least a friendly acquaintance, clearly he'd not been quite close enough to Night's inner circle to be invited to the funeral. He'd never even met Night's brother. Despite that, the news of his parting had deeply saddened him and every so often, he thought of him with a sigh.

A good customer and a good person.

This evening, Nightmare played at his thoughts again, probably drudged up by the anniversary of the accident approaching, he hadn’t meant to make note of the day, but he had. a few weeks would be the anniversary of the day he heard the news. 

He thought back to a year ago, a few weeks before his death. The words he’d said about his brother and the increasing frustration about his sinful thoughts. Killer didn't judge him for such feelings, he was no stranger to sin.

Other then that, there was nothing at all strange about this night.

Tonight, just like any night, he was in his shop and the counter. It was a cold October and pretty soon he'd be closing up.

It was dark and chilly in his shop and had a strangely pungent smell, which hit the moment you walked in. A mix of crushed herbs and spices, old books and stale coffee.

An old set of scales sat on the counter top in front of him, as did a till, several glass jars and containers and a large collection of dirty coffee mugs.

Behind him there was a large book case full of many strange books. Ones with faded titles, ones with thick leather bindings, some with large strains spreading across the covers or pieces missing. If you asked him, he'd liked to have said that he'd read all of them... But there were a few he hadn't. He wasn't much of a reader outside of this collection.

As he nursed yet another cup of coffee from the café next door, he tapped his slender skeleton fingers on the counter top. He was bored.

With a glance at the clock, he decided today that he could close up early. It was his shop after all, he made the rules. A small collection of trinkets and charms hung around his neck and clinked together against his old coat, as he got to his feet.

Just as he prepared to take today's earnings from the till to count it, he heard the door and a jingle of the shop bell, indicating someone had entered.

He set an empty eye socket in their direction as they froze, looking nervous.

The person was new, but also something about them was strangely familiar. After scanning them for a moment, his face twisted into a sly smile upon realising who the new comer could be. He turned his face to them fully, staring his pitch eyes right through them. They tensed, which amused him slightly.

"well hello Little Light.... How may I help you"

Dream seemed taken back slightly by the pet name. It wasn't something he was used to. His hands fused with the fastening on his coat.

"uhh Hello.....I’m..... Uh.."

The shop keep chuckled again. Such nervous behaviour wasn't something he saw often from his customers. Looks like it was going to be an interesting night and to think, he was going to close up.

"nervous Lil light?"

Dream once again tensed and shuddered slightly.

"Please.... Don't call me that" he stammered slightly before taking a breath "My name is Dream"

The shop keepers grin got even wider and it made a chill run up Dream's spine. There was something extremely unnerving about this skeleton. Maybe it was the emptiness of his eyes or the strange carvings around them, but Dream was sure that it was more then that.

The atmosphere of the shop was very unsettling and kind of cramped in Dream’s opinion. There were many trinkets, stones, crystals and small animal bones stacked neatly on the shelves. It was this, along with bags of salt and bundles of sage and garlic, that reassured him he was in the right place for what he needed. 

"Dream huh?.... Thought so" he said in a low tone "I'm so glad to finally meet you"

The nervous shifting of his hands continued, as Dream once again tensed even further. He was acting friendly, but it still felt ever so slightly...off.

"h-how do you know me?"

"I knew your brother and I'd recognise that pendant I sold him anywhere" he said, with his eyes looking at Dream's chest.

Dreams fingers quickly shot to the star charm hanging from his neck, and gripped it tight. Looks like this was the right place.

"Not to mention there's your golden eyes" he  continued, shifting his gaze straight into Dream's eye sockets. It was strange how Dream knew where he was looking, even without eye lights.

"he often talked about them......He was right when he said they were very beautiful if I do say so myself~"

Dreams face blushed slightly, but he felt a familiar twist in this chest at the mention of Nightmare and a sinking feeling when he was reminded how Night felt about him. His brother had often complimented his eyes.....

He'd just never really understood it was more then brotherly affection. At least until now.

"I.... Uh" Dream said before clearing his throat "You're Killer.... Aren't you?"

Flexing his fingers, Killer nodded. The grin didn't leave his face.

"looks like my reputation proceeds me"

Dream let go of his necklace and a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I thought it might be you.... Based off something he wrote in his diary".

Before Night's accident, Dream had never even considered reading his diary. That was just a basic code of conduct. However, after his death, it became something Dream had often thought about. The diary, and everything else Nightmare owned, now belonged to him. For that reason he'd taken the book out of Nightmare's room.

However, he'd just kept it on his bedside table for almost a year before he finally had the courage to read it.

It had mostly been a fond look over some old memories, some good and some bad. But there were also passages about his feelings for Dream, sometimes written confessions addressed him. Every word was full of truth, longing and pain. Dream had felt it all.

Those had been hard to read, but he'd not skipped a single page and read them each through several times.

Nearer the end of the book, Nightmare had started talking about his interest in the supernatural. Dream remembered his twin getting fascinated in that and spending long evenings talking with him about it over tea and biscuits.

One thing Dream hadn't known about, where his trips to the next town over, where he wrote about finding this shop and the shop keep. This had been where the interest started. It was this that had lead Dream to come here.

"right..." Killer said, downing what was left in his coffee mug and setting in on the counter top.

"well.... What can I help you with?"

Yeah.. Nightmare had written that Killer was always one to cut to the point. Dream knew that what he was going to ask sounded insane and he wasn't even fully sure if Killer was the right person to ask. But at this point he was desperate, he just needed to know. With his grip returning to his brothers pendent, he remembered who he was doing this for.

He took a deep breath.

"Can you bring people back from the dead?"

Killer didn't react visibly to that. But he drew out a long silence. After a little Dream was sure he saw his jaw clench. The silence was completely deafening, broken only by the sound of Killer's fingers tapping the counter top. Dream figured that he was probably struggling to think what to say. After what felt like a life time, he spoke.

"I specialise in charms and equipment for preventative measures to stop spirits inhabiting homes....I do not....." he paused

"I don't try and bring the dead to the living realms".

Dreams face fell. He really shouldn't have been so disappointed, it was a crazy ask. But with the way Killer spoke and what he sold in the shop, he'd felt so close to what he wanted. But maybe it really was just impossible.

He felt tears threatening to spill, he just couldn't take all this guilt anymore. All he wanted to do was tell his brother he was sorry. That night. That kiss. That dam horribly wonderful kiss...and that car. 

"however...." Killer continued.

Dream felt hope flush through at those words and stood up slightly straighter. Killer turned his back to dream and started looking over the bookshelves behind the counter.

He didn't say a word, as Dream curiously watched him. He ran his thumb across the spines of several of the oldest and most dusty looking of them, eventually plucking out a large leather bound book with silver straps.

He walked back over, blowing dust off it as he did, and set it down on the counter with a light thud. The cover was extremely dusty and the leather was cracked and split in several places, yet the title still read fairly clearly and Dreams felt his heart skipped a beat.

The Practice of a Necromancer. Vol one of three. Summoning, Controlling and Banishing.

"I've not read this one fully, but it's been in my collection for years.... I suppose this would be the right place to look"

With that, he slowly opened the book and very carefully started to turn its pages. The paper was completely yellowed and clearly very fragile. There were no photographs, only hand done drawings of various items and also what looked like people, but with strange and uncanny faces. There were also other frightening images that Dream was trying not to look at.

Killer eventually stopped and ran his finger across a page.

"ah ha" he said "to summon a spirit into the living world"

He read over the text for a moment, as Dream watched impatiently. Killer knitted his non-existent eyebrows and narrowed his eyes.

"this stuff sounds overly complicated to me..... so I guess I'm not sure really"

But Dream didn't really seem to be playing much attention to Killer's words now. He was so desperately trying to read the text upside-down. Reading was something that Dream always struggled with anyway, so reading upside down would be near impossible. He reached forward to try and pull the book to him.

But he jumped back in surprise as Killer slapped his hand across the book, sending some dust into the air.

"now now now not so hasty Lil Light" he said returning back to a sweet tone, as he said the a pet name that made Dream's toes curl.

In his haste Dream had forgotten that this was a shop, not a library, so of course he wouldn't just hand it over.

The smaller skeleton knew that the book was probably pricey so it's not like Killer would just let him have it. It was clearly very old and Dream worried that he wouldn't have enough for it, but if he had to pay all the money he had to buy it. He would.

Reaching inside of his pocket, Dream pulled out a bundle of paper money and placed it on the counter and next to the book. Killer looked at it for a moment, before he took it and counted how much money was in the bundle. He ran his fingers across the notes, looking as if he was very tempted and contemplating his next move.

But then, much to Dream's disappointment, he put it back down on the counter.

"I don't want your money dream... That's not what I meant"

An unhappy wine left Dream's mouth, as Killer proceeded to hand his money back to him. Just as he was about to ask why, Killer cut him off.

"it's not for sale"

"but what if I just borro-

"or for rent or loan"

Dreams soul twisted. This felt so Incredibly unfair. He wasn't ever one to really get angry or feel hatred for people. But why had Killer gotten this book down if he didn't intend to sell it? Was he just trying to mess with him?

It was that moment that he wasn't sure he really liked Killer all that much.

He sighed.

"h-how come? Can I do anything to change your mind?"

Killer sadly shook his head.

"Dream....... I like to read the stuff for research purposes not for a practical use"

Dream opened his mouth to object, but killer silenced him.

"and I don't care what you say... but I don't think you're just interested in the topic"

Dream tried very hard not to show disappointment on his face, but of course Killer picked up on it. It upset him that his intentions were so easy to guess. Then again he'd opened with 'can you bring people back from the dead'.

He really should have asked in a different way. Feeling like an idiot, he tried to say that he wasn't intending to use the book in practice. But Killer once again shook his head.

He stood up slightly and gave Dream a sympathetic look, or a sympathetic as he could make it through his cold eyes.

"look....I know you miss him and that's ok I've lost people myself to" he said in a uncharacteristically gentle tone, which sounded fake. 

Dream looked at his feet.

"but the dead need to be left dead. Trying to bring them back never ends well, Nightmare wouldn't want you to get hurt trying to help him"

Dreams eyes stayed fixed on the floor, not wanting to look at killer any longer. He didn't want him to see him cry. He didn't want to look like a baby. Just as he was going to try arguing again, behind him he heard the shop door open and the bell ring

He looked back at Killer seeing he'd straightened up.

"K-killer...." came a soft but slightly panicked voice.

Curiously, Dream looked over his shoulder at the source of the voice. It was another skeleton stood by the door.

In all his life, Dream had never seen someone look to tired. They seem to be slightly younger then Dreams age but it was hard to tell how much. Their appearance was clearly young, but the huge bags under their eyes aged their face several years. The most notable thing about them was that their eye lights where small, indicating that they were on edge.

They were wearing a oversized cream knitted sweater and had a maroon scarf decorated with a paw print pattern tide around their neck. They fiddled with it as their eyes a looked at Killer and then to Dream.

From where he was, Dream could also see them wearing several of the necklaces and charms that Killer a sold, as well as a few layers of bandages around their arms.

Killer hastily exited from behind the counter and approached them.

"Hey Cappuccino......." he said, trying again to sound soft.

Ccino wasted no time in burying his head to Killers chest and wrapping his arms around him.

In response, Killer stumbled slightly and looked momentarily taken back and very uncomfortable. After a moment he sigh, before gently placing an hand on his back.

"hey.....it's ok ya wimp... I'm guessing they're back right?"

Ccino simply nodded, Killer sighed.

"Dream can you show yourself out? I've got to take care of this, we're closing anyway. I'm sorry I couldn't help you better"

As Killer attempted to comfort the shaking skeleton, Dream turned his attention back to the book in front of him. It was just within his reach, the page was tantalising.

It was so clear, a set instructions of the exact thing he'd need to do to reach his goal. 

Killer's warning played in his mind. 

But he knew what he was doing right? It was his brother, what did Killer really know about what Nightmare would have wanted. He didn't know how.... Close... They were. At least he thought he knew.

It was a split second choice.

As Killer continued to try and comfort his companion, he saw Dream hastily exit the shop without saying another word. He stared at the door.

It didn't feel right. 

He narrowed his eyes and stepped back from Ccino slightly.

"hang on"

He walked back to the counter and was relieved to see that the book was still there, however a moment later he noticed something else that make him freeze and curse under his breath.

"what's wrong?" Ccino asked, walking up next to him.

Killer didn't answer and instead picked up his book and looked at it closely to confirm what he saw. When he saw he was right, he near growled.

"Killer?" Ccino asked not seeing the problem.

"look....."Killer said quietly.

He ran his finger down the spine where the pages joined together. Once you looked closely you could see the remnants of torn paper sticking out.

"he took the page"

references coming soon.