#i posted this on ao3 a couple days ago sorry for the delay but am trying to log on here less frequently

[palmofafreezinghand]

an early morning vignette

a regular morning in the Cullen-Masen-Hale household in 1934. or rosalie sees a functioning relationship. on ao3 here.

1934: 

Seldom had the house been this serene since the newest member of the group had unwillingly been introduced. The early morning breeze filtering in through the open windows was crisp, the smell of dew on freshly cut grass. 

Edward had spent the last hour working through a new jigsaw puzzle, one Esme had made for him for his birthday, the image more detailed and challenging to put together than the ones bought in department stores. Rosalie was disassembling an antique cuckoo clock that had recently stopped working. Esme was sitting on the front porch swing, her most recent knitting project in her lap, waiting for her husband to return from work. 

A half hour passed, not a word spoken, when the familiar rumble of a Ford engine fine-tuned to perfection came down the gravel driveway. Rosalie listened as the engine died, the driver door softly opening and closing, patent leather shoes walking a touch too fast to the front porch. 

“Good morning,” Carlisle said. 

“Welcome home,” Esme smiled, setting her knitting needles on her lap and offering Carlisle her hand, which he took. 

Rosalie watched the scene through the picture window, trying to hide behind the lace curtains. 

Carlisle set his leather medical bag down on the bottom stair, leaning down to tuck an unruly curl behind Esme’s ear with his now free hand. 

“How was your night?” Esme asked. Carlisle took a seat on the step next to her, never dropping her hand. 

“Better now,” Carlisle smiled. The two spoke softly. “What are you making?” He asked, motioning to the project in her lap. “A sock?” 

Esme sighed, dropping his hand to pick up the yarn. “A sweater,” she said defeatedly, holding up the lopsided, tiny square. 

“It’s a beautiful sweater,” Carlisle said, the corner of his mouth twitching, betraying his lie. 

“Hush,” Esme laughed, swatting at his chest gently. 

“I mean it. You will make a squirrel very happy.” 

Esme frowned, turning back to her ‘sweater.’ She stared at the stitches for a moment before frogging the entire square. She handed the needles and ball of yarn to Carlisle who, without question, began to wind the now crimped yarn back into a spool. He tucked the spool into the outside pocket of his work bag. 

The two sat on the porch, leaning into each other’s sides, attention focused on nothing in particular, hands interlocked. Minutes passed as they sat there, 

“May I have a kiss?” Carlisle asked in no more than a whisper, almost sheepishly. As if he hadn’t been kissing her for over a decade. 

“For rewinding my yarn?” Esme scoffed. “It’ll take a little more than that, Mister.” 

“No, I know it takes more than that to charm you. I just missed you.” 

“Just one kiss?” Esme asked, holding up her pinky. 

“One,” Carlisle smiled, lips quirking in a way that made him look barely twenty-three. He linked his pinky around hers, leaning in for the one kiss he had negotiated for. 

Rosalie looked back to her half disassembled cuckoo clock. 

“That was two, Doctor,” Esme chided after a few moments.   

“Apologies,” Carlisle smirked. “I’ll return one.” 

Rosalie looked away again. 

“You think you’re quite charming,” Esme laughed quietly on the front porch, getting up from the stairs. She pulled Carlisle up behind her. 

“You used to,” he grinned, wrapping his arm loosely around her shoulders. 

“I was young then,” Esme said wistfully as they started towards the treelines. 

“You? Young? I don’t believe it.” 

“Oh, you’re one to talk.” Their fond bickering faded into the distances. 

Rosalie looked away from the window, in the corner of her eye she caught Edward looking at her. ‘Stop it,’ she thought. 

“You’re the only one allowed to eavesdrop?” Edward asked, turning back to his puzzle. 

“I was not eavesdropping, their conversation was too loud.” 

Edward scoffed loudly. They fell back into silence as they worked on their respective projects. After a few minutes Edward opened his mouth. “To answer your question, yes.” 

“What question?” Rosalie asked, she hadn’t spoken, and if she had she certainly wouldn’t have asked him a question. 

“Yes, it has always been that way for them. And yes, they both thought it never would be.” 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“I’m only saying —” 

“Edward.” 

“Although your personality poses an obstacle.” 

“Edward.” 

Edward smiled, an almost goofy, an almost endearing lopsided grin, returning his attention once more to the puzzle he hadn’t made any progress on in the past three days. Rosalie looked back to the clock which she didn’t particularly care about but was determined to fix. Her thoughts were in a hypothetical world she rarely allowed herself to think of, indulging in the glimmer of hope which had been buried for a long, long time.

[aelaer]

Heeey, I've only recently found you and I think your works are so, so, so so so incredibly awesome. I may or may not have stalked your entire ao3 but... that's not the point. Anyway. I think it's a shame there's not much authors who enjoy whumping Stephen as much as some do... Nevermind those who write genfics of him. Do you mind listing a couple authors who write Stephen whump or angst? 👉👈 I don't even care if it's genfics or with pairings anymore, I'm just desperate to read anything about Hurt!Stephen TT-TT

Hello, sorry for the delay. I've been having a rough time of it lately and coming onto tumblr isn't bringing me a lot of joy the last couple weeks.

I am very happy you enjoyed my works :) "Stalking" an author's collection is one of the best compliments an author can get, and as a gen author who doesn't get as much traffic as, say, an IronStrange author, I greatly appreciate it.

I have a post here listing whumpy one-shots requested by someone else not too long ago, so this is a good step for one-shots.

I also recommend looking through the Hurt Stephen Strange tag on AO3 if you want any flavor of hurt Stephen, though I warn you that at least half of them are like, emotional hurt while he's looking after Tony or Peter or something so read the tags/summary carefully. In my experience, if there's, say, Peter Parker whump tagged, unless Stephen whump is explicitly tagged, it's (usually) emotional hurt.

Not many authors have several fics of the hurt Stephen variety, but a few that have a good handful (if not more) that I can think of off the top of my head are:

amethyst-noir (Arbonne)

InkDippedFingertips

FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls

dragonnan (though half the whump is art!)

I'd also recommend taking a look through my bookmarks. It's not all hurt Stephen, but the non-hurt Stephen stories I have on there are very high quality (though I'll also note that I will often only save a couple of one author's work since I can easily access the rest of their works through their username, so each author could be worth checking out).

Finally, if you haven't read the magnum opus of Hurt Stephen Strange known as Signature Move by perryvic, then you need to put aside a weekend/a week depending on your busyness and reading speed and read it. I'd say it's required reading for anyone who considers themself a Stephen fan. If I make a fic half as brilliant as this one day, I'll consider myself satisfied.

Best wishes.

[corellonsblessing]

A BLACK OUT/SLAM POEM based on the teletubbies (tv) tag on ao3

TRIGGER WARNING_MILK.

stray dogs literature clubs, the school for good and evil. ink sans angel—stranger things

horror sans guy—don’t hug me i’m scared. don’t hug me i’m scared, (don’t hug me i’m scared.)

free form plot twists. tragedy/comedy. alternate universe—high school. alternate universe—music.

the chaos unfolds each day, pristine, centuries ago, fight the many.

post divorce, living together, implied drug use, alcoholism. snippets from the end of the show, renunion, although it takes place a couple years before. we were the stars (but space was a void) by ponfarrpussyqueen.

corporate clash, bug, duck, the guardian pest, the prince, macarena, kissing, crack, as a joke, boys kissing, regret everything

underage julius caesar, emo napoleon, mating bond, tentacle dick, magic healing cock, holy water, holy roman empire, kissing in the rain, the battle of waterloo, a true story.

crossover, insanehappymealgiver, original character, original, simulator, mentioned, i’m at my limit, intentionally bad, wearing the other character’s skin, start praying because this sure ain’t holy, my dad went to get the milk because of this, sent to the void, put me in a coffin, rancid hope’s peak

we greet you with good luck and prosperity.

we love gay anal and lesbian smut and we hope you do too.

diminishing flame, not for kids, you’ll cry so hard you won’t have eyes, not sorry, commit a clarity, vaporized, freeform, sewer rat

2020 presidential election, spit as lube.

chaos bear, crack, crack, crack, has religious trauma, gay, gay, lesbian, lesbian sex, orgy, moist naked bodies rainbow is jesus, sex during tornado, this is NOT. finished.

there she was, in a new world. guess she’ll play the cards she’s dealt.

jesus confessed, sin shock, tears streaming down her face. “i fucked your sister.” crack. treated seriously, why did i write this. gay best friend—i can see that (i’m safe here.)

why did i write this!

crack. treated seriously.

slowly losing our sanity, we die.

crack, treated seriously. the moon of hope and the sun of despair LET IT GOOOOO LET IT GOOO.

crack, treated seriously, blue balls, orphan account

his little purse. what was once an inside joke is now taken seriously. crack. crack. fluff and crack. angst and crack. i am a man of my word, and i speak for the people.

a million other projects to complete

crack, crack, i dont know what’s going on, we’re idiots so we made this

it starts out all nice then it all goes downhill

satan, crack, this is a joke, please help me, please don’t hate me, i’m so sorry, i cannot think of anything else, please don’t read this. but. do, the author regrets nothing, the author regrets everything, why do i still exist? (discontinued, at least until further notice.) by even moderner prometheus

forbidden love, dead dove:do not eat.

so small in the midst of it all. rolling with the weird and unusual, traumatized teens to comfort, and an important decision to make

i came up with this, i will go down with this

i can’t believe i write this, why did i write this, i wrote this while listening to mother mother, sleep deprived, wrote this instead of sleeping, the guardian witnessed sex and is now scarred, touching, addiction, slut shaming

insufferable with apologies to all my followers, hell (literal), sewage

i got problems, so fucking random, pulled out of my ass, hard to explain, hard to word, each chapter will be posted, find me on wattpad,

near death experiences, major illness, declarations of love, love confessions, eating, marking, delay/denial, knotting, marking, mating bites, overstimulation, based on taylor swift songs, missing spleen

help me pleease, im scared, why did i write this?, just this really chill person who wants to take over the world, humanized teletubbies, my friend and i wrote this over the summer

you better not forgive me for this, im serious, vaginal fingering, a hushed voice, the contact making her shiver.

may your heart stay strong. torture, vomiting, blood and gore, self-indulgent, touch starved guardian, all characters are adults, electricity, suicidal thoughts, medical inaccuracies,

and yet… you lie again. i like noo-noo i hope he explodes, don’t show up

crack. i am so sorry. not in detail but it could’ve been so count your blessings

gods this can’t end well, good parent, to two children, bad parent, to the other one

IM SO SRRY BUT THIS WAS FOR THE GREATER GOOD, HAHA SUFFER,

attempt at humor, death, gore, i don’t even know, i’m so sorry, you have been warned, i posted this for my brother’s birthday

plague, companionship, through the fields we ran

it quickly turns into anti-demon propaganda

a play in one act, post-war, no sex, no killing

the prize of reading this is to meet god

help my poor soul this is a disgrace but it was my first fic so i refuse to orphan it, and the teletubbies followed

help, i was forced to write this and i’m sorry, i don’t even know what to call this monster, the southern pansy, aziphrale, the prince of hell, and the archangel gabriel

angst, satire, this is not serious, it’s meant to be funny

DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY, IT WAS WRITTEN BY THREE HIGH THIRTEEN YEAR OLDS.

this is what you’ve been waiting for and hoping would never come

hearing voices, broken bones, emotional manipulation,

live, work, play, a simple life, protected, until a stranger comes.

i can’t give you a summary of the plot. that would ruin the story.

the eternal rioting continues as it always will (part one)

the eternal rioting continues as it always will (part seventeen.)

let me know if i forgot to tag anything!!

blame the painkillers. i blame the painkillers.

[bottlesandcats]

hiii!! i hope it's okay to just ask you, i really want to start writing fanfiction but i'm so embarrassed of my writing style and in general, ever showing it to anyone? do you have any tips for beginners? 🥺

Hey there Anon! Sorry for the delay in getting back to you, but I was at work when I saw your ask, and wanted to really think about what to say before responding. With that in mind, I hope you don't mind a really lengthy answer.

I have to say I’m incredibly flattered to have someone ask me for writing tips, and will do my best to provide some insights based on my own experience. I'm no expert, but I've done a lot of writing both academic and creative. Of course, it goes without saying that the following strategies are what work for me, personally. Everyone works and thinks differently, so some of my suggestions may not fit the way you work and that's totally okay!

Because I am an anal nerd, I've organized my responses into categories.

Writing Style

Firstly, remember that your writing style is unique to you and you have nothing to be embarrassed about! But honestly, I think a lot of writers feel the same way; I don’t actually like my fiction writing style, either, and am always working to improve it.

One thing I’ve found that helps: find authors whose style you really like, and read and reread their stories and study how they write. What’s their sentence structure like? How do they write dialogue? How do they set up scenes? Is it through dialogue or more through the use of a character’s thoughts? This is what I do. I have three authors, who all write in a particular way that I really love, that I tend to reread and study for inspiration. Just know that your style is not set in stone and you do have the ability to adjust it, it just takes practice.

At the end of the day it's easy to wish we could write like our favorite authors, but don't be too hard on yourself; your style is special, too!

Getting Started

When I used to write research papers in school, I was a big fan of creating outlines before I'd start writing the actual paper. However, for creative writing, I don't use outlines because I find that I'm constantly changing things around. The outline would either have to be so basic in order to allow for flexibility that it wouldn't be of much use, or it would become irrelevant three chapters in.

Writing that first sentence is probably the hardest part of writing a story. What I did, for the story I'm working on now, is picked a part that I was really excited to write about and just started with that, first (I'm pretty sure it was something that comes much later in my story, that I haven't even posted yet). That helped me to get really into the process and feel confident about what I was doing, which made it easier to move onto other sections. What I'm trying to say is don’t be hemmed in by feeling like you have to write sequentially. I tend to write scenes as they come to me; I don’t force myself to write consecutive chapters, if that makes sense. For example, in my current story, I had chapter 14 finished before chapter 11 bc I had a burst of inspiration and just wrote it all out. Just be aware that sometimes this can lead to you writing yourself into a corner (which did happen to me in this fic), but the beauty of it all is that it’s your story and you can change whatever you want!

If you’re writing a story with chapters, keep a point in mind. My beta reader actually taught me this. With each chapter, ask yourself “What is the goal of this chapter?” Think of chapters as mini stories that, when combined and read in order, create one big story (duh). Therefore each chapter should ideally have a purpose that moves the overall story forward.

Write about what you know. If you don't know -> research

Authenticity is really important to me. I have googled the most random shit for this story: "Did soldiers have to repair their own uniforms in WWII?" "Popular slang of the 30s and 40s." "How to make jambalaya." "Popular cigarette brands of the 30s."

I have also been very careful around race in my story as it involves POC and I'm as white as white gets (I got a hyphenated name and everything). When I address a character's emotions around race I try to match it to how they acted in the show/movie. I don't rely on conjecture or how I think they'd feel, bc as a white person, it's impossible for me to truly know what it's like to be a POC. This also goes for dialogue; it can be easy to turn people into caricatures. I've watched TFATWS at least three times, and have watched numerous interviews with Anthony Mackie to try and make sure I write dialogue and emotion that fits him as an individual and not a stereotype. It's not perfect, and I'm sure I've made some mistakes, but it's something that's really important to me and I try my damndest to make sure Sam Wilson comes across as authentic.

Getting Edits

I see a lot of people suggest sharing your work with friends or family to get feedback. I'm not really a fan of this because I'm pretty private about my writing. I don't want anyone that I know reading it bc, frankly, I'm embarrassed (hey look how we came full-circle there!). Besides AO3, Tumblr is the only space that I feel comfortable enough to share my work without fear of judgement. I think the preferred alternative is to get yourself a beta reader. This is the first fic that I've worked on with a beta reader and...wow, what a huge difference it has made! I found my beta reader when he posted on tumblr expressing an interest in beta'ing, and so I messaged him (hey @3dg310rdsupreme). It’s the best decision I ever made. He has truly made me a better writer, and my current in-progress fic wouldn’t be nearly as good without him offering edits, acting as a sounding board, and reigning in my excessive use of lengthy paragraphs (he will probably cringe at these paragraphs, here).

Posting Your Story

If/when you do decide to post your story in a public forum, try to maintain a loose posting schedule. When I first started uploading I committed to a chapter a week, but by the eighth chapter I was getting too stressed and found myself glued to my computer 24/7 trying to keep up. Hold yourself to goals so you don't wind up abandoning the fic, but remember that you are your own boss and this is meant to be fun, so go easy on yourself. I'd also recommend getting several chapters finished BEFORE you even post the first one, to give yourself a head start. You think you have plenty of time but it's surprising how much time edits and rewrites can take.

It can be really scary to share your work with others. Writing is really hard, can be very personal, and it's an incredibly vulnerable feeling to put yourself out there like that and leave yourself open to the judgements of others. I was terrified when I first started to upload chapters because I just wasn't sure what reader etiquette was like. The last time I posted a fic was on FanFiction.net almost 10 years ago and ppl did not hold back their criticism (I think things have vastly improved since then or maybe AO3 readers are just nicer). I can't emphasize this enough: you are not obliged to take readers' criticisms/feedback whether they are constructive or not. I don't ever leave criticisms or corrections when I comment on other writers' stories; I honestly don't feel it's my place to do anything other than support them as they are sharing their talents for free. Some writers welcome constructive criticism, and will typically state that in the notes if they are open to it. I do not; it's why I have a beta reader. I did have one reader post a public comment correcting me on a couple things (one of which was a misunderstanding on their part) and I politely requested that in the future any corrections should be sent to me privately, not publicly shared.

Wow...I think that's a good start. I really hope at least some of these tips will be useful to you! Thanks for reaching out, feel free to do so again, and if you ever want to send some pages my way you are more than welcome to! Just remember, be kind to yourself and have patience bc seriously…

[yumichanhamano]

Gift fic for Nike

Hello @maskedremnant ! I am your gifter for @mdzsgiftexchange :) Apologies for the delay! Had some issues on my end and I’m not very active on tumblr anymore.

Here is your gift :D It’s around 2.7k cause I couldn’t hit the 3k mark :( Hope that’s okay! If you provide me with your ao3 handle, I could post it there and gift it to you :) Please check on "keep reading” for the fic! :D

-

“Lan Zhan!” The man let out a sigh as he finished his sentence he was typing when the couch dipped under Wei Ying’s weight. There was a pleasant warmth pressed against his side as Wei Ying looked at his screen. “Oops, am I bothering you? You’re usually in your room if you’re doing your work.”

Lan Zhan was used to working in a quiet environment. He used to stay in his room most often, leaving only to use other facilities in the apartment. However, since meeting Wei Ying, many things in his life has started to change. He spent more time outside of his room after dinner. He used to only go outside if necessary or for exercise reasons, but now he frequented restaurants and cafés with Wei Ying.

He still stayed inside of his room, his place of solace, when he needed to focus.

However, there was still time before the deadline for the report so Lan Zhan indulged in spending more time with Wei Ying instead. Compared to working on his report, he preferred to watch Wei Ying pace around the living room instead.

He found that his roommate often mumbling to himself when he’s inspired or deep in thought. Just a second ago, Wei Ying was trying to find a source of inspiration for his art projects before he sat down beside Lan Zhan.

“No,” Lan Zhan said. Wei Ying smiled and Lan Zhan resisted the urge to smile back.

“Sooooooooo,” Wei Ying started in the way that he had a request but he’s unsure of how to ask, “we’ve been roommates for a while…”

Lan Zhan lamented that with all the time they spent together, they were still nothing more than roommates. He nodded in response.

“Well, you also know how I love to post pictures of myself and send them to my friends.” Lan Zhan too has been subjected to Wei Ying’s surprise selfies but he doesn’t tell Wei Ying that he had been saving them in a private folder on his laptop. “What I’m trying to say is that one of my friends saw you in the background and I was joking that we were dating. Now they’re convinced that I found a boyfriend, didn’t tell them, and I either get the choice of them marching into our apartment or we meet up with them.”

Lan Zhan blinked at Wei Ying, closed his laptop and placed it on the coffee table before something happened to it.

His heart was racing at the mere thought of dating Wei Ying.

The most logical thing to say was “tell them the truth”, but Lan Zhan can’t bring himself to say it when he had a chance to have what he always wanted. Even if it was not real.

“When do they want to meet?” he said instead, choosing indulge in his desires. If this was the closest, he’ll get to getting what he wants, he will take the chance. Wei Ying, completely unaware of Lan Zhan’s inner struggles, hugged him and called him the best. If Wei Ying knew the truth, Lan Zhan wasn’t sure that he would say that anymore.

 On the day they were going to meet with Wei Ying’s friends, Lan Zhan made sure to dress up nicely. He wanted to leave a good impression them, even if their relationship wasn’t real yet. Lan Zhan will simply have to work harder to make it a reality. It felt like a dream far away, but he can only hope.

Wei Ying, as always, was whining that Lan Zhan always looked effortlessly good. What he didn’t know is that Lan Zhan always put effort into his appearance for Wei Ying. He was not a slob, but he dressed cleanly normally. But since Wei Ying complimented his outfit choice once, Lan Zhan wanted to continue to impress Wei Ying. It was natural to want to impress your crush.

Wei Ying had his hands stuffed in his pockets as they walked towards the restaurant they were meeting up in. But once the sign was visible, Wei Ying suddenly clung to Lan Zhan’s arm without any warnings and Lan Zhan felt like his heart was going to stop.

“Is this okay?” Wei Ying asked with a nervous smile.

‘More than okay,’ was Lan Zhan’s first thought that he had to bat away. Lan Zhan hated Wei Ying’s zero regard for personal space at first. It was a point of contention when Wei Ying first moved in. Eventually, Lan Zhan grew from being tolerant to not minding the small touches between them.

It was not the first time Wei Ying attached himself to Lan Zhan, but it was the first time they done such a thing in a public space. However, in this moment, they were a couple and this was normal for couples.

“Mm.” Lan Zhan was too caught up in his own racing thoughts that he didn’t notice the way Wei Ying snuggled closer with the permission or the small content smile.

They walked into the restaurant together, Wei Ying comfortably leaning on Lan Wangji’s side as they gave the name of reservation to the waitress. Lan Zhan noticed the way Wei Ying started loosening and tightening his hold on Lan Zhan’s sleeve. It was cute to see him nervous, but Lan Zhan was no better.

There was little comfort he could provide so Lan Zhan patted Wei Ying’s hands with his free one. Wei Ying looked at him in surprise before smiling fondly.

Lan Zhan wanted to tell him not to worry when he heard someone shouting Wei Ying’s name.

The moment was broken and Wei Ying turned to the source of the sound. He waved at his friends with one hand while pulling Lan Zhan with him with the other hand.

There were five people at the table, all watching them as they approached, and Lan Zhan unfortunately recognized one of them.

“Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang smiled slyly. Lan Zhan had a poor feeling that their lie was seen through already. Their older brothers were close friends and talked often, so Nie Huaisang had to know about Lan Zhan’s roommate. The only key thing is that he didn’t know if Nie Huaisang knew that Wei Ying was the roommate. Oddly enough, he didn’t recall Wei Ying mentioning Nie Huaisang in any conversations before either. “I never knew you two were dating.”

Wei Ying stiffened at his side and forced himself to relax as he smiled at Nie Huaisang, “Lan Zhan never mentioned about you either.”

“Our brothers are friends. We’re not that close actually. Enough of that for now, come,” Nie Huaisang said as he waved his hand, “Why are you two still standing there? Sit, sit.”

“So, this is the rumoured boyfriend,” Wen Qing said as she watched Lan Zhan like a hawk. “I was imagining someone… not him.”

“What do you mean? Lan Zhan is great,” Wei Ying pouted.

“I meant that he’s too good for you.”

“Hey!”

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Jiang Yanli said, as one of the nicer people in the group and broke up Wen Qing and Wei Ying before the argument escalated. “I hope you don’t mind us being a little nosy about you. I’ve never seen him so secretive and evasive about something before.”

Lan Zhan simply nodded in acknowledgement and kept that information in the back of his mind to ask Wei Ying later.

In the meantime, Wei Ying was already chattering away with his friends to bring the attention away from Lan Zhan, which he was grateful for. Lan Zhan could see why Wei Ying was such good friends with all of them. While each of them had differing personality types, they melded well overall as a group.

When the food arrived, the group kept chatting, which Lan Zhan can see why his previous attempts to keep Wei Ying from talking while eating failed.

Wei Ying was still an active participant in the ongoing conversation, but he talked less than he did before the food arrived. Although Lan Zhan was not largely successful in getting him to completely stop talking during meals, Wei Ying does keep the chatter to a minimum when they ate together.

Things went well until Wei Ying had to use the washroom.

Before he stepped away, he gave Lan Zhan a small peck on the cheek and a wide smile before running off. Lan Zhan felt like he was floating before he realized that everyone had put down their utensils and was staring at him again. Lan Zhan followed suit and placed down his utensils and suddenly got the feeling that he was in some kind of job interview.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Jiang Cheng said, “Hurt him and I’ll break your legs.”

“What he meant to say is that we all care a lot about Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang added. There was a calculating glint in his eyes that Lan Zhan did not like. “He is a very dear friend to all of us here. We would hate to see him sad.”

“As do I,” Lan Zhan said. He didn’t expect to be given the shovel talk, but it was nice to know that Wei Ying’s friends cared so much about him.

“Good, we’re on the same page then,” Wen Qing said, “but if you do find yourself in a situation where you hurt him, you better start running and pray that we never find you.”

Jiang Yanli and Wen Ning were the only two that kept quiet, but their calm smiles were threatening in itself.

“Sorry, I’m back!” Wei Ying announced a moment later as he skipped back to the table. “What did I miss?”

“Not much!” Wen Ning piped up and pulled Wei Ying into a conversation about sports. It was fascinating how fast the conversation turned back to lighter topics like they hadn’t collectively threatened murder if he broke Wei Ying’s heart. But they had nothing to worry about since he wouldn’t let that happen. If it did, Lan Zhan could not live with himself.

 “Lan Zhan, are you okay?” Wei Ying asked once they arrived back at the apartment. Nie Huaisang, Wen Ning, and Wen Qing ended up taking the same bus as them and then walked down a similar route for most of the journey home. Luckily, they all lived in different complexes so they eventually parted ways.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan said. He couldn’t tell Wei Ying he thinking about all the different ways he wanted to ask if they could start dating for real, or simply confess his feelings and wait for the other to reject him.

“I hope they weren’t too much. We’ve been told that we’re a noisy bunch,” Wei Ying said, his gaze glued to the floor as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Is it- Would it be rude if I asked for us to continue pretending for, I don’t know, the next few months? I’ll just tell them that we tried the dating thing but didn’t work out so we’re just roommates. Or should I move out? That would make more sense, right? I can always find–”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan called out, stopping the other’s anxious rambles. He too felt like his nerves were all bundled up and ready to explode into thoughtless rambles, but Lan Zhan couldn’t bare the idea of Wei Ying he completely disappeared from his life.

“Yes?” Wei Ying squeaked and looked up. Lan Zhan’s heart squeezed at the sight of his watery eyes. There were a number of things that Lan Zhan wanted to do, but he settled with enveloping Wei Ying into a hug. “L-lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan never initiated any kind of contact between them. He was never a big fan of physical contact, but it was always Wei Ying that reached out first. Lan Zhan didn’t mind it as much when it was Wei Ying for one reason and one reason only.

“Don’t leave.”

“Huh? I- Oh,” Wei Ying said and Lan Zhan hugged him tighter. “I won’t, I won’t! You’re such a good roommate! The best even! Where else will I find someone as amazing as you and is willing to put up with me?”

Lan Zhan huffed in amusement, “Then stay forever.”

“F-Forever?” Wei Ying asked as he tried to wiggle out of Lan Zhan’s hold. It was futile and he gave up after the second try. “W-What about when you get a girlfriend? I might be shameless but I can’t third wheel forever! She might not even like me!”

“I will not get a girlfriend then,” Lan Zhan stated as if it was the logical conclusion to the dilemma.

“I- What no! That’s not what I meant!” Wei Ying struggled again but gave up just as fast. “Lan Zhan, I like you but I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Wei Ying is never in the way.”

Wei Ying stilled in his arms. “Hey Lan Zhan… Do you like being with me too?”

“Yes.”

“Really? But I’m so clingy. And I’m always bothering you and annoying you.”

“Not annoying.”

Wei Ying laughed and snuggled further into the hug. “Even when I ask you for dumb favours?”

“Not dumb.”

“So… you don’t mind if we keep fake dating?”

Lan Zhan tensed at the question. He wanted it to be real, but–

“Why lie?”

“What do you mean…?”

“You could tell them that I am your roommate,” Lan Zhan said as he held Wei Ying in his arms, unwilling to let go. He wanted to ask this at first, when Wei Ying first proposed the whole fake dating thing. But he was being selfish when he was given an opportunity to be someone important to Wei Ying, even if it was not real.

“I could have,” Wei Ying agreed.

“Then why?”

“Don’t hate me,” Wei Ying mumbled against his shoulder. Lan Zhan thought it was a silly thought. There was nothing Wei Ying could do to make him hate him, ever.

“Mm.”

“I got a little lonely. Some of them have started dating and I’m still single. And I didn’t want to date just anyone! When they asked, I thought they would take it like a joke like other things I said. I never dated before, much less was interested in anyone so I thought they would know I was joking. But before I could tell them the truth, they got worked up over it and started asking about you. And… maybe… maybe I wanted it to be real so I’m lying to myself too.”

Lan Zhan’s mind went blank as he replied, “It can be real if Wei Ying wants.”

His mind is still repeating the last part of what Wei Ying said, trying to process the words and convince himself that he heard correctly, that Wei Ying wanted to be with him too.

This time, Wei Ying pulled away successful, but Lan Zhan’s hands rested at his waist. He stared into Lan Zhan’s eyes, looking for any hint that it was a joke, a prank, or anything to insist that he simply misheard. But all he saw was a hint of a soft smile that melted Wei Ying’s heart.

“Really?” Wei Ying asked. Lan Zhan nodded. “I… I really want to kiss you.”

Lan Zhan simply leaned down and they shared their first kiss. It was nothing mind blowing or fireworks going off like how media liked it play it off. It was a little clumsy but it was also their first kiss and Lan Zhan would never trade it away for anything.

“So, we’re dating dating now? Not pretend anymore?” Wei Ying asked when they broke apart.

Lan Zhan huffed fondly and Wei Ying pouted.

“What is that supposed to mean? That was my first kiss! I was saving that for someone special. Don’t laugh.”

“I am honoured to be Wei Ying’s first,” Lan Zhan said and smiled as Wei Ying’s face turned red.

“Don’t– don’t say it like that! Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying complained when Lan Zhan couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m supposed to be the shameless one! Why are you like this? Oh no, I’ve corrupted you. Lan Zhan, we just started dating and you’re already like this. How will I survive?”

“I will help,” Lan Zhan said seriously.

“Oh Lan Zhan, you’re the one bad for my heart with your smile so cute,” Wei Ying said dramatically. “I was already in peril just living in the space with you. Now I am subjected to a whole new side of Lan Zhan. Woe is me, death is coming soon.”

“I will protect Wei Ying.”

“How…?” Wei Ying asked dubiously.

“True love’s kiss.”

“Lan Zhan!”

[xwingsandlaserswords]

Stories from a Secret Garden

Collab with @jinkouuart​ for @codywanweek​ day 6, fairytale! Be sure to check out her amazing companion piece! 

Cross posted on AO3

Rey will be the first to admit that Finn and Poe's kids are great. They're smart, funny, and respectful. They don't fight and they know how to clean up after themselves. Her friends are great dads; that's evident every time she babysits. 

The one problem is bedtime. 

The minute she remotely mentions the b-word, all hell breaks loose. Damrus starts begging for one more round in his game. Shara hides in the cupboard. Leia tries to negotiate. Even Annihea, who is too young to understand a word anyone says, starts wailing. The babysitter is supposed to love bedtime; Rey can't help but detest it. 

Tonight is no different. Damrus sulked as he brushed his teeth. Leia hugged her teddy and demanded a thirty minute delay. She had to drag Shara out of her hiding place. Even Beebee seemed upset with her. Beebee is never upset with anyone.  

"My final offer is twenty more minutes," Leia stated, holding out her hand. 

"Or," Jannah, her co-babysitter for the evening, said, "you can get in bed now and Auntie Rey will tell you a bedtime story." 

It was like those four words flipped a switch. The kids perked up and hurried to their bedrooms. Rey looked at Jannah, stunned. "Why did you say that?!" She whispered, "I can't tell stories for the life of me!" 

Jannah shrugged and continued to rock and feed Annihea. "It always works when I have to watch them." 

Rey put her hands on her hips. "You, my love, are an excellent storyteller. I, on the other hand-"

"Will be fine," Jannah interrupted, "if you can't think of one, use a story from your life. They're only going to be awake for half of it; no need to panic if you aren't the next Emily Dickinson." 

Rey still frowned. "Why can't you do it?" 

"Because this baby is almost asleep and there's no way I'm risking waking her up." Jannah moved the bottle to the table and shooed Rey off to the bedroom. 

The brunette flipped her girlfriend off before calling the kids to Damrus's bedroom. The three sat in the eldest's bed and eagerly waited for their aunt to begin.

Rey sat across from them and smiled awkwardly. "What story do you want to hear?" 

"Princes!" 

"Knights" 

"Dancing!" 

Shara and Leia shouted their ideas one after the other. Damrus simply shrugged. "I like flowers," he mumbled. 

An idea came to Rey's head quickly. "Okay, here goes.

"A long time ago, in a kingdom far, far away…" 

                                                      ♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡

It really doesn't surprise Cody to learn the prince is missing. 

Everyone was frantically preparing for that night's dance. Soon, dignitaries were arriving from all over to meet the king to be. In a few short months, Prince Anakin would formally take his late father's place as monarch of their young country. Cody wasn't concerned: he'd seen the young man grow into a fearless and noble ruler. He didn't have the most conventional way of doing things, but Cody had to admit his methods were effective.

Most agreed that Anakin would settle down and conform to tradition once he was married. Cody thought that was ludicrous; marriage wouldn't change Anakin's foundation. Regardless, a dance was being held with the secondary hope of finding a spouse for the future king. The young man must have hated the idea as much as Cody if he'd been missing since dusk. 

Good luck finding him, Rex, Cody thought to himself. At least my prince isn't missing.

He walked the cobblestone path to a small, secluded place in the Queen's Garden. The sun wouldn't be up for another hour, but the humidity was already uncomfortable. He hated being outside in his formal wear. The armour encasing his legs and right arm made him sweat. The straps on his shoulders made certain movements difficult. The white uniform underneath was thick and stiff. His sword was positioned in an unfamiliar way. Cody understood that it protected and looked better than his usual outfit, but the dance wasn’t for hours! Did he have to wear it now? 

He would only endure this discomfort for one person. That person was currently sitting on a bench and rereading the same book for the fifth time. Cody would never understand why- he already knew all the words by heart. 

Cody was sent to retrieve him for some final inspection, but he couldn't help but take a moment to admire the prince's beauty. The long cape was swept into his lap, creating a pillow for his book. The golden shoulder plates and buttons glistened under the lamp light. The tailor must have modified the suit recently; Cody didn’t recall ever seeing the golden accents on his right leg and left sleeve. He also couldn’t help his slight jealousy: the prince’s outfit looked much more comfortable than his own. 

"If you stand there any longer the birds will mistake you as stone", the prince said, interrupting Cody's thoughts.

He smiled slightly. "I was allowing you to finish."

"Hm, yes," Obi-Wan turned the page of his book, "and I am oblivious to the fact Anakin is currently with the Queen of Naboo."

"Ah, well…" Cody cleared his throat. "The Duke has requested your presence in the ballroom. He would like your opinion on some things."

 Obi-Wan met his gaze, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes. "It is a shame I cannot be found, then."

"Yes, Sir, it is."

They shared a smile before Obi-Wan stood. He put his book in the bench's hidden compartment. How the prince managed to find these hidden places, Cody would never find out. 

He looked back at the Knight and smiled. "Would you care to escort me around the garden before I must see the Duke?"

Cody offered his arm. "It would be an honor, Your Highness."

Obi-Wan took his arm and they began their stroll. It was easy to get lost while surrounded by the beauteous flowers. The path diverged into three different sections: one leading to the castle, one to the stable and the last to the gates. Cody didn't need direction before heading down the path to the gates. 

"The roses are breathtaking this year," Obi-Wan said, breaking their silence. 

Instead of speaking his thoughts, Cody nodded. "Hevy has been working with Ninety-Nine to ensure the garden is ready for the summer. My suspicion is that he wants to show up the Alderanian gardeners."  

Obi-Wan chuckled. "I will never understand their competition." 

"It's a thing between brothers. Cutup did well for King Bail's wedding; Hevy wants to do better for the prince's coronation." Cody replied with a shrug. 

Obi-Wan put a hand on his own and stopped in the centre of the path. "Do you think he's ready?" 

"Oh, I'm sure Hevy is. Ninety-Nine is a great teacher." 

Obi-Wan shook his head fondly. "I have no doubt in that. I meant do you think Anakin is ready? He's still so…" 

"Headstrong?" 

" Young. At his age all I had to do was smile and nod. He is going to be running a country." 

"You did a little more than smile and nod, Your Highness." 

Cody recalled the prince’s marriage with the late Queen of Mandalore. Prince Obi-Wan had just turned seventeen. He proclaimed the union would unite their two countries for years to come. Cody, a teen himself, couldn’t help but feel bad for the elder. For years, it appeared the prince was stuck in a marriage of convenience. 

Later, he learned this was only partially the case. Yes, the marriage was arranged, but Obi-Wan had quickly fallen in love with the Queen. Years later, the couple had a son. Soon after the prince’s birth, King Qui-Gon passed away. Obi-Wan was forced to return to his home country to take over Anakin’s teachings and the role of acting monarch. For Mandalore to maintain its political position, it was agreed the best course of action was to dissolve Prince Obi-Wan and Queen Satine’s union. This was all before the prince had turned twenty-five.

So, no, Obi-Wan did not just "smile and nod" when he was the age of the young prince. 

Obi-Wan continued, "I had years of learning under Father before I was expected to lead, not to mention what I’d learned from Satine. Anakin-" 

"Anakin has known his duty since he was born," Cody interrupted. "He has watched and learned as you acted in the role he was born to take. You fail to give him enough credit, Your Highness. Anakin will be a fearless and noble ruler, just as you taught him." 

It was no secret Obi-Wan was treated unjustly by the former king. As the child of a non-traditional union, Obi-Wan held no place in line for the throne. Qui-Gon still educated him, but all his attention turned to Anakin when he was born. The younger son was the first born to the King and Queen. The throne was his right, not Obi-Wan’s. 

When Qui-Gon passed away, it was agreed that Obi-Wan would temporarily act as monarch. He was to educate his younger brother so one day, when he turned twenty-three, he may take the throne. Several protested this arrangement, arguing that a bastard should have no such power. By the time anyone cared to listen, Obi-Wan's reign was coming to an end. Now their attention is on the king-to-be and his courtship status. 

"I know you do not want to be king," Cody said softly. "But even the moonlight doesn't hide your worry. What is bothering you?" 

"Many things keep me up at night, my dear. You'll have to be more specific." Cody simply tilted his head and waited until the prince sighed. "I know he is ready, but I still feel Anakin is too young for such responsibility. I fear that his and the Queen from Naboo's courtship will be denied. I worry that my son resents me for leaving when I had no choice. I fear…" He looked to the ground for a moment. "I fear that once Anakin ascends to the throne, he will no longer need me." 

Cody gently tilted the prince's head to meet his gaze. "There is no doubt in my mind that he will always need you. You are his brother, his mentor, his beloved friend. He may not need an advisor anymore, but he will always need you." 

Obi-Wan put a hand over the knight's own. "What would I do without you?" 

"Not have a knight to cover your sorry arse." 

Obi-Wan shook his head. He waited a moment more before speaking again. "I've been thinking of moving upstate." 

Cody recoiled slightly in surprise. "Oh?" 

"Yes, once Anakin is crowned and married to Padmé. Nowhere too far: just somewhere to get away from the politics and so-called royal life." 

"Really?" Cody tried not to let his hope build. 

"Yes. I may invite Krokie to stay. It depends how he'd get along with my fiancé, however." 

"Fiancé?" This is the first time he'd heard the word out of the other's mouth. 

"After the coronation I will have no ties to the throne. I will be able to marry whomever I want." Obi-wan smiled cheekily. "Perhaps you've met him; he is in the guard, after all." 

"There are thousands of men in the guard. You must be more specific." 

"Well, this knight is loyal. He is always two steps behind me. Regardless of my rankings and status, he has never feared to speak his mind." Obi-Wan took a step closer. "He is also quite charming. Handsome too, if I say so myself, especially in his formal wear." 

Cody grimaced. He'd almost forgotten about the uncomfortable garments. "He'd only wear them for you, Sir." 

"Soon he may never have to dawn them again." 

"I love you," Cody admitted, tired of the banter that kept them apart. 

Obi-Wan kissed his cheek and pulled him close. "And I you, cyare." 

Soon, dignitaries would be arriving, Rex would arrive with the upset prince, and someone would pull Obi-Wan away for one reason or another. Cody tried to forget about that; right now it was just him, his beloved, and the stars. 

                                                      ♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡

Rey broke out of her story-telling trance and smiled. "The end!" She said gleefully. 

All three children were fast asleep. Rey looked to the door frame and frowned when Jannah laughed. "How long have they been out?" She asked. 

Jannah shrugged. "Leia fell as soon as you said the first sentence, Shara followed after Cody found the prince and Damrus was out not too long ago." Rey sighed before getting up and gathering Shara in her arms. Jannah came in and followed suit with Leia. "You did well," she continued, "I quite enjoyed your story." 

"Oh, that wasn't a story," Rey called as she exited the room. "That was simply the beginnings of my grandfather and his husband." 

… Well, maybe she had taken some creative liberties, but Jannah didn't need to know that. 

[xiolaperry]

Four Ways Gaston Could Have Died (and the One Way He Actually Did)

After much delay, here is the the story I promised months ago at the end of “The Piano”. It won’t make much sense if you didn’t read that one. A special thank you to everyone in my NaNoWriMo Rumbelle Writers group!!!

Summary:  We all agreed at the end of 'The Piano' that Gaston deserved to die. But how? I opened it up to prompts, and here they are...

Notes: Prompt from Brokensoul, “a haircut from Barney.”

Read “The Piano” on AO3.

Read “Four Ways” on AO3.

--

Gaston looked at himself in the mirror with a critical eye. He smiled a big toothy grin, then assumed a look of nonchalant superiority. His “intimidating” look was next and he finished with the charming, flirtatious smile he used with the ladies.

The reflection in the mirror confirmed he was as handsome as ever, but life hadn't gone back to normal since Belle left with Gold. Whispers followed him wherever he went. Instead of looking at him with admiration, people looked at him like they expected to see shame on his face. Shame? He may have overreacted a bit with Belle, but leaving a challenge to his superiority as a man unanswered was not an option.

He stroked his face in contemplation as he paced, the sound of his heavy boots filling the sparsely furnished bedroom. Perhaps he needed a haircut and a shave. Freshen up his look and maybe turn things around. His aunt Cora told him yesterday that a barber set up shop in the village. Before the incident, he'd have heard about it himself, but his friends no longer dropped by to share the local gossip.

“Not a very confident man,” Cora had said about the barber. “A bit nervous. But I can work with that.” Gaston had no doubt his aunt would find something about the fellow to exploit.

He passed Reverend Hopper and Ruby out on a stroll as he entered the town. Hopper said a polite hello and stopped to exchange pleasantries. The Reverend was one of the few that still spoke to him. His companion glared and said nothing. The charming smile on his face had no effect on her. If anything, it only made her frown harder.

How did such a mild-mannered man catch the eye of a firecracker like Ruby Lucas? Not that he wanted her for himself. Hopper could have her. No, he was done with women. They were more trouble than they were worth.

Ruby had a pretty face and a nice, lean body, he thought as he turned to watch them for a moment as the couple continued on their way. He was sure most men would find her attractive, but she'd set her mind on the mousy Reverend and pursued him with determination, ever since the day she arrived on the same ship that took them away.

His aunt was very unhappy with the match between Hopper and Granny's granddaughter. The sermons now were full of love and acceptance, instead of the grimmer messages Cora favored. Hopper was no longer her dutiful companion, and she was furious. Ruby had better watch out.

Gaston made his way down the main street with his head held high. He kept his smile on his face as he seethed at the snubs he received from most people he encountered.

The barbershop, with its new red and white striped pole, was easy to spot. He stomped up the steps and pushed the door open with a bang, making an entrance to attract attention. A slight man wearing a maroon jacket was sweeping the floor and he jumped at the noise. His hair, combed and slicked back from his face, shone in the light pouring in the large windows.

“Hello?” the man said. His voice, uncertain, made his greeting a question.

“You the barber?” asked Gaston.

“Yes, I am. Barney Thomson.” He stepped forward and extended his hand.

Gaston shook it, gripping with more force than necessary. It was important to establish dominance in all situations. After a final squeeze, the smaller man extracted his hand, wincing.

“Gaston Legume,” He introduced himself, satisfied with his superiority. “I need a shave and a haircut. Can that be done now?”

“Yes, sir. It will be a few minutes. I just need to heat some water.”

Barney scurried to one of the chairs, brushing non-existent dust from it with a handkerchief. “Please, have a seat.”

The man's meek demeanor made Gaston want to punch him in the face. And he looked familiar too. Something about the eyes, the sharpness of his nose... he shook his head. Aunt Cora told him he needed to lay low for a bit to let everything blow over. Now would not be a good time to lose his temper. He took a deep breath and sat in the chair Barney had gestured at.

---

Barney returned a few minutes later carrying a steaming basin. “If you could please lie back, Mr. Legume?” he asked, and with deft, practiced movements draped a damp, hot towel across Gaston's face.

Barney was nervous, which was not good. Bad things happened when Barney was nervous. And those bad things were how he ended up here in New Zealand, far from his home in Scotland. However, something about this man, with his massive arms and handsome sneering face, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Calm down, he told himself. Just be happy to have a customer. But his anxiety ratcheted higher as he tried to place the name. Legume. He knew he'd heard it since he moved to town, but could not remember where. Barney removed the towel and applied a soapy lather to Gaston's face. He attempted to make friendly conversation, reminding himself not to ramble.

“Have any advice for someone new in town? I haven't been here very long, just arrived from Scotland.”

“Make friends with my aunt, Cora Mills. She's the most important person around here, so stay on her good side.”

Barney almost dropped his razor. Wasn't this just his luck. Women flustered him as a general rule. But aggressive women? They reminded him too much of his mother and rendered him a cowering mess. After meeting Cora, he had planned to stay as far away from her as possible. And now here he was with her nephew in his chair.

“Cora Mills is your aunt?” Barney's hands began to sweat as he fumbled with the razor. He sent up a prayer not to cut the man sitting here, who would not be the type to forgive an accidental slice.

“Yes. That's what I said.” Irritation was creeping into Gaston's voice.

Barney spoke to fill the uncomfortable quiet as his blade glided across Gaston's cheek, its sharp edge making quick work of the stubble. “You have beautiful skin, Mr. Legume. I'm sure your wife will appreciate seeing you with this smooth, close shave. Very handsome.” He attempted, in vain, to keep a high pitched nervous tone out of his voice.

It was the wrong thing to say, judging by Gaston's response. His jaw tensed and his hands tightened into fists, the veins in his forearms standing out. “I'm not married,” he said through clenched teeth.

Barney laughed nervously. “I'm sure someday you'll meet a special lady.” Shut up, shut up!

Gaston's face darkened further.

“I have no luck with women, myself.” He knew he was babbling, but could not keep the words from pouring out of his mouth. “Maybe your aunt could set you up with someone. Not that you couldn't find someone yourself if you wanted to. Because you could. I mean, look at you. I bet you have to beat the women off with a stick. Who wouldn't want a strapping young man such as yourself?” He stopped to take a breath, his mind spinning, begging him to stop talking.

“I. Don't. Want. A. Wife. Women are nothing but trouble.” He paused, then muttered under his breath, “Especially if they're interested in books or music.”

Barney's hand froze where it hovered over Gaston's neck. Now he remembered where he'd heard the name Gaston Legume before.

“You're the one who–—!” The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“'The one who' what?” Gaston's handsome face contorted with rage.

“The one... the one..” Barney drew a blank. There was no way to fix this. He was unable to move, prey immobilized by the predator. The razor hung just above Gaston's neck.

Gaston knew exactly what “one” he was. The one who cut off his wife's finger. The one whose wife left him for a crippled old man. The one who looked like a fool. He'd been on his best behavior for weeks and still, no one would let him forget what happened.

He sat up and whipped around, ready to give the barber a beating he wouldn't soon forget. Warmth startled him as it spread down from his neck to his chest. When he tried to speak the only sound he made was a strange, wet gurgle. His hands fumbled, slippery at the slit in his throat. He looked at them and they were crimson.

“I'm sorry!” shrieked Barney, dropping the razor. He grabbed a towel and tried to stem the flood of blood gushing from Gaston's jugular. It was a futile effort, the white towel turned red and sopping in an instant. The anger and confusion in Gaston's eyes soon faded to a dull, lifeless gaze as his life drained away, and he slumped over.

“Oh, not again,” whispered Barney with panicked tears in his eyes. He hung his head and wrung his hands. No one would believe that Gaston had inadvertently slit his own throat. Another accident, and another body to dispose of. At least he had experience.

End Notes: I hope to post a chapter a week until this is finished-- and if you have a prompt, feel free to send it! I can always change the title to “Five” or “Six”...

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

Late again! Sorry about that, I am moving apartments rn, and it's taking up precious writing (and editing) time. Next week might be a tad delayed as well, but I dearly hope not!

For those of you wondering how the hell I plan to finish this story in one chapter, the answer is that I will be finishing an arc in the next chapter, and there will be a part two that wraps up the entire story. Enjoy! ❤️

M/M Romance, Arranged Marriage  - Also available on AO3

Chapter 9: A Fine Young Man

PREVIEW: I smiled at him, reaching for his hand. “I will set up a meeting with you two post-haste.”

I didn’t hail a ride, opting instead to walk home with my thoughts. I didn’t know how I could make this right. Margaret and Billy needed someone who would do right by them, there was no doubting, and Henry…

But that train of thought would get me nowhere. I would soon find myself overwhelmed and out of sorts. So what could I do? I had to keep looking. Surely there was someone, somewhere who could--

“Oy!”

I crashed directly into someone and landed on my ass in a hedge. I looked up in confusion to see a young man, perhaps a mite shorter than I was, in a fine dove coat and silk breaches. He looked down at me, the pain and confusion on his face quickly turning to concern.

“Oh, I say, sir, are you alright? You look utterly out of sorts.” His face was kind, and he was handsome, certainly more than me, fine-boned with light blue eyes. He reached down a hand to help me up. “What’s gone and happened to put such a sour look on your face on a beautiful day like this?”

I reached for his hand and he pulled me up. He had a firm grip, and once upright, I realized I was wrong. He was taller than I by mere inches. He had a graceful, willowy frame, and his clothes were expensive and had been tailored well to suit him.

“Sir?” He waved a hand in front of my face and it was then that I realized I had done nothing but stare at him while he fussed over me kindly. “Sir, are you alright, should I call a physician?”

I quickly mussed up a smile. “No, no need. I was simply lost in my thoughts. I truly apologize, Sir--”

He smiled kindly, shaking my hand. “Sir Oliver Metley. And you are…?”

Metley! The Marquis of Metley’s son! No one had seen hide nor hair of him in years, assuming he was forever lost to life on the continent. And now he was… Oh, yes indeed. I beamed at him. “Sir Philip Mallory at your service. The pleasure is mine! I apologize again for dusting up your suit, and what a fine one it is, Sir Metley!”

He laughed. “Oliver, please. And worry not, a bit of dusting isn’t enough to hurt me and you seem troubled. You’ll forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, as I’m essentially new here, but I can’t walk past such a troubled face without at least trying: Would you perhaps find ease by speaking your mind with a concerned stranger, Sir Mallory?”

This man was too genteel for words. He certainly put me to shame. He was kind, handsome, charitable…

Perhaps, he would do very nicely indeed. “Please, call me Philip. I believe that would be a balm, if it isn’t too much trouble. Would you be interested in taking coffee with me?”

He nodded and followed me to a coffee shop I knew of at the end of the lane.

We were soon seated and served. I observed carefully how Oliver treated the wait-staff. He was curious and grateful, didn’t flirt, but was polite to the serving girl. It seemed as though this man had fallen straight from the heavens!

I cleared my throat. “What brings you to town so suddenly, Oliver? No one has seen hide nor hair of the son or the Marquis of Metley for donkey’s years, and yet here you are!”

Oliver smiled with a bit of a sad grin. “I was touring the mainland. A fascinating project caught my eye--the origin of medicinal plants and how they can be better cultivated to make them more affordable, so that even the common man could afford them--and I got rather carried away. Next thing I knew, a letter arrived from my father while I was in the middle of the forests of Dor chopping leaves, and told me to head back home before I became an incorrigible bachelor and no one wanted to marry me.” He laughed, seeming embarrassed. “I tend to get obsessed, see. And science truly leaves me lost for words at how…” he trailed off, eyeing me, a light pink tinging his cheeks. “But of course, this would not interest you. I apologize.”  

He was right, it did not interest me. But I suspected Henry might not mind a few hours of this. “Please don’t worry, Oliver. The least I could do after knocking you about in the streets is endure a bit of science.”

He grinned at me. “Much as I appreciate your generosity of spirit, I’d be interested to hear about what is troubling you, if you are still interested in sharing.”

I nodded. “As a matter of fact I would. And it seems predestined that we, ah, bump into each other today. You see, I have a dear friend of mine who is also in the market to be wedded. He is looking for someone who is kind and intelligent and he has yet to find just the one.” I took a sip of coffee. “I should premise this with the fact that he is not of the nobility, but he has funds to spare and is a force to be reckoned with. I believe you are both very aligned in your wishes to do better for the common man. Would you be interested in meeting him?”

As I described him, I saw Oliver’s eyes spark with interest. “Yes, very much so!” He chuckled. “Lord knows I have enough noble blood for two, and my connections could help his efforts, and his funds mine!” His words could be considered calculating if his face and tone carried anything but curiosity and excitement.

I smiled at him, reaching for his hand. “I will set up a meeting with you two post-haste.”

***

“...For the longest time, it was believed that the tiny hairs on the leaves were a sign of poison, but in fact, those tiny hairs are used to collect rainwater and the plant is utterly harmless! Very good for stomach pains as well, and very easy to grow!” Oliver was gesticulating excitedly to Henry about his adventures. Henry regarded Oliver with interest as he spoke and he seemed genuinely delighted in Oliver’s company. “Until now, feverfew was the only remedy for such an ailment, but as you know, feverfew is dreadfully expensive and difficult to cultivate. With this new plan, there would not be a soul in all the country left with a headache or stomach ache, be they kings or street urchins!”

“Incredible that you were able to find such a thing.” Henry’s eyes twinkled.

He was not the only one looking at Oliver with warm regard. Edmond, whom I had also invited to this luncheon to further ease the meeting, was watching Oliver carefully, but didn’t interrupt the prospective couple’s conversation. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Philip.” Edmond observed. “Truly in every possible way, Sir Metley is a fine man and matches what Henry is looking for.”

I nodded, feeling a small quake in my stomach that I quickly blanched. “He deserves the best, and I believe Oliver is as good as it gets. I can still barely believe my luck that I all but ran him over in the streets. Henry will be well taken care of. ”

“And Margaret and Billy.”

I turned to him. “So you do know.”

Edmond turned to me. “Who do you think helped him locate her all those years ago? And Mrs. Blethely is a relation of our housekeeper, which is how we knew she could be trusted.”

I nodded dumbly. Of course Edmond had been involved. I assumed he and Henry had met only after Henry had gone to college.

“Regardless, I think you’ve done well this time round, young Philip, and I expect to see news in the papers soon.” Edmond turned back toward Oliver, his eyes hooded. “Be it that I could compete with Henry’s fortune… But that is no matter. They are already getting along splendidly.” He turned to me. “What say we leave them alone together to get better acquainted?”

I nodded and stood reluctantly, addressing Henry and Oliver. “Well, I must be off. Edmond, won’t you be so kind as to escort me home? I believe my father would like to make your acquaintance. He’s been interested in meeting you ever since I mentioned the, ah, noble thing of… Well, no matter.” I offered Edmond my arm, inwardly cursing myself.

Edmond, smiling at my word vomit, rose and grasped it gently. “But of course, Philip.” He turned to Henry. “I trust you will take good care of Sir Metley in our absence?”

Henry’s eyes turned from Edmond, to me, and went back to regarding Edmond. He nodded. “Of course.”

“Well then, this has been a pleasure.” Edmond tightened his hold on my arm and made to move away.

“It was a pleasure seeing you again, Phillip.” Oliver turned to me, his genuine smile so disarming, I had to smile back. “And… It was good to see you again as well, Edmond.”

Edmond’s face froze. Mechanically he turned back to the table, looking at anyone but Oliver. “Yes… The pleasure… is all mine.” He all but yanked me behind him out of the tea shop.

Edmond did not open his mouth for the rest of the ride home, and though I wanted to ask him what had been the cause of the tension, he seemed averse to answering any questions I had and I didn’t know him well enough to pry without seeming like little more than a busybody or gossip. So I took pity on him and spoke of mundanities until he seemed able to shake himself out of his dark mood. By the time we arrived at my home, he was almost himself again.

“Are you quite sure you wouldn’t want me to accompany you inside to meet your father and discuss the…” Edmond deliberately let his tone trail teasingly, waiting for me to again fill in the blank I had left open.

“Oh sod off home. Besides, you know well enough that you would find little satisfaction meeting my father to discuss anything.”

Edmond grinned one last time, and it was so carefree that I almost forgot that moments ago he had been despondent and withdrawn.

“And, uh, Edmond.” He turned to me, a look of caution in his eye. “I don’t wish to bring back unpleasant memories, and I know we don’t know each other entirely so well, and your impression of me is, well, shabby at best, but… If you are looking for someone to confide in, I would be honored to listen to whatever is troubling you.”

He smiled slightly. “With such a rousing self-recommendation, it’s a wonder I don’t have Percival park the carriage now and sit down to tea and talk.” He winked at me. “However, this particular issue is one better left in the past. No use digging it up again. Take care, Philip.” With that, he rapped on the coach and disappeared back behind the window as it rattled down the road.

[solacefruit]

Hi Grey! I'm really loving all of your stories, particularly m.a.m.s. Thank you very much for sharing them, and thank you for taking the time to share writing advice on your tumblrs. Is it okay to ask why you reply to some comments on AO3, but not to others? Would you prefer that your readers engage with you outside of AO3 comments?

Hello there! Sorry for the delay in getting back to you: it’s been a big and busy week for me. Thank you for writing in to say such lovely things. I always appreciate hearing that people like what I do. 

As for comments on AO3, I think I’ve only replied to maybe three or four comments since I first started posting about a year ago? There’s a couple of reasons for that, but the main one is: usually, I don’t actually have anything to say! 

I will almost always reply if someone asks a direct clarifying question about the story, provided it’s not asking for spoiler-y information, but other than that, a lot of what I have to say about things is in the stories themselves. I’d honestly rather watch people pull apart what I’m doing and listen to what they think about it than participate in the conversation myself most of the time, because I guess I feel like I had my chance to be part of it when I was telling the story. I’m not really needed in that space after the fact, you know? That’s when I get to chill and find out what the story actually means, because I don’t really decide that. How readers interact with the story is what finishes creating it, if that makes sense. 

But also, another reason I don’t respond to a lot of comments on AO3 is because frankly it feels pretty weird to just say a bland “thank you” over and over again to strangers! Don’t get me wrong: I really appreciate and love the comments people leave on my works on AO3 and it’s great to have that huge source of motivation to tap into whenever I need a boost. Sometimes when I’m having a bit of a bad day, taking a look at the lovely things people have said really makes a difference. It’s super touching to know that people have liked my work enough to say something to me and I’d love for people to continue leaving comments.

But I’m probably never going to be talkative on AO3. I don’t like artificially inflating the comment number with my own, and I often don’t have anything meaningful to say--and saying “thank you” to everyone feels kind of insincere and repetitive, even though I do appreciate everyone who goes to the effort to support my writing. There’s only so many ways to politely express gratitude.

However, if people want to engage with me, specifically, this blog is definitely the best place for that. I feel a lot more comfortable chattering about basically whatever here and I am very happy to talk about my writing and works (even if I have to go “sorry, you’ll have to wait for the next story” from time to time). I’m admittedly less used to talking about myself, personally, but I’m still most at peace doing that here than on AO3 or Ailuronymy. 

So basically tl;dr: if you’d like to inform me you liked my story or ask a clarifying question or otherwise tell me how a work made you feel, please leave a comment on AO3! I love to read them and it’s really great to have them all in one place like that, where I can look over them whenever I want. I might not always reply but know that I am stoked to see what you have to say.

If you want to talk to me about something, or you’re looking for more freeform conversations like that, this blog is the best place for that. I think it’d be neat to be able to engage with readers more--but after years of being an honestly pretty disembodied and emotionally distant spectre running Ailuronymy from the shadows, it’s new territory for me to be interacting with people like this and I’m still figuring it out. 

I hope this explains things!

[rangergirl3]

Are you gonna continue the lost paladins series? Or is it discontinued. I understand if you have lost inspiration or interest in it, but it would be cool to have some kind of conclusion or closure. Maybe if you don't plan on finishing it you could post notes or a rough plan on how it would have ended so we don't have to wonder? I just really love it and have reread it multiple times and wish I knew what happens next. It's alright if you don't want to though, your choice

Aw, I’m so happy that you love it!! :D :D :D Seriously, that really makes my day! <3 

I do fully intend on re-visiting that AU sometime in the near-ish future!! <3 (I know I’ve said that before, and that it’s been ages since I last updated, but I FOUND THE NOTES I’D WRITTEN OUT FOR THE REST OF ‘CHASING SHADOWS’ :D :D :D :D Like, a week ago? :D Soooo happy I finally unearthed them.) True, we’re just about to move cross-country, but I found ‘em, guys!! :D

I really am sorry for the delay in updating the series. I just got slammed by real-life emotional whump half-way through brainstorming/writing out ‘Chasing Shadows’ and it’s taken me a couple of years to sort of regain the writing drive when it comes to found family/sibling affection.

One of the things I’m still really struggling with is PTSD flashbacks/intrusive thoughts. It’s been getting somewhat better over time, but geez. (Somewhat) unfortunately the whole premise of the ‘Chasing Shadows’ fic just sort of lends itself to a very ‘jumpy’ and ‘on-edge’ sort of feeling. Combined with some really visceral memories of when a couple of jerks tried to kill me, I just kinda lost steam for brainstorming how to get the characters I love so much out of such a terrifying situation. But!! I’m BACK into WRITING NOW AND I LOVE IT! :D :D 

Thank you again for reading the Lost Paladins series. It was some of the very first fanfic I’d written in literal years and it’s what really got me started on writing all this Keith whump/other stuff. <3 <3

Link here to the series on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/579643

[damienthepious]

lizard kiss time thank you

The Rite of Movement (Chapter 2)

[Ch 1] [ao3] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5]

[Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters:  Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep, Original Monster Character(s), Sir Marc, Sir Talfryn, Sir Angelo, Quanyii, Sir Caroline

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Engagement, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Poetry, Presents, Monster Customs, Dancing

Fic Summary: Arum has a surprising revelation about his own feelings, and then decides to take matters into his own claws since his humans don’t seem to realize what they are denying themselves.

Chapter Summary: A conversation over breakfast. Hashing out the details, as it were.

Notes: Sorry for the long delay between chapters, I don't have as much of a well-defined plot for this one as I did for Reckoning, so Reckoning took precedence until it was done. Hopefully, this story will just keep going until we hit the actual wedding. Will I be able to actually WRITE said wedding, as an unmarried enby who hasn't been to a wedding since I was maybe eight years old? WE SHALL SEE.]

It isn’t until the next morning that Rilla remembers to question the technicalities, and Damien starts to worry again in the general sense.

“It’s one thing to be engaged,” Rilla says gently as Damien scoops out scrambled eggs and a vegetable hash onto their plates for breakfast. “There’s no law against engagement, regardless of how many people are involved or whether any of them happen to be monsters. But actually getting married… I don’t know if there’s a priest in the world who would-”

“I told you not to worry about what is possible, Amaryllis,” Arum says, voice warm and content and a little bit smug. “You are thinking too small. A human priest? Admittedly, you would be hard pressed to find one amenable to our situation. But your world is larger than just the realm of humanity now, is it not?”

“You are suggesting a- a monster priest?” Damien says, his voice lilting up in disbelief as he sets the skillet back on the counter and comes to join them at the table.

“Probably not a priest as you would recognize. But- there are monsters who oversee such ceremonies.” When they stare at him, doubtful, he scoffs, but he’s still smiling. “What, did you think that committing to each other was a strictly human desire? Not every monster wishes to, and some who desire commitment simply decide that they are married without the pomp and circumstance. But still others have a fondness for attention, ritual, the involvement of friends and rivals and underlings- you understand my meaning.”

“It wouldn’t matter that there are three of us?” Damien asks curiously. “I know that two in unity is a very human concept, but-”

“Monster unions are often complex, and often even more complex than three. Sometimes unions are more practical than romantic, sometimes they are mergers of families, sometimes a commitment of monsters will fall out of love and hold an extravagant ceremony of parting. Three instead of two in the human way is an unchallenging thought, honeysuckle. There is only one rule, for monsters.”

“And marrying you off to a couple of humans…” Rilla trails off.

Arum shrugs. “I know one or two powerful monsters who live far from the Citadel, who hold no specific grudge towards humanity, and if I asked them to oversee the ceremony for me… I think I could convince them.” He pauses, clears his throat. “I… may have already opened a correspondence or two… to test the waters.”

“Wow,” Rilla says. “You’ve really been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“… yes,” Arum admits, his tail curling around her ankle gently. “Yes I have.”

“A monster wedding,” Damien murmurs. “Saints, how my life has changed…”

“Does the idea bother you?” Arum asks, tone carefully blank.

“Once upon a time it would have,” he says with a wry smile. “Now I’m merely considering how to go about telling Sir Angelo about this without him accidentally revealing to the entire Citadel the event we are planning.”

“Oh, damn,” Rilla says with a sigh. “Working out the invitations for this is going to be interesting, huh?”

Arum gives a long-suffering sigh. “Marrying a knight, I suppose I shall have to endure a limited number of other knights in attendance,” he grouses. “I shall not be inviting many guests myself. The Keep shall be my most important witness.”

The Keep gives a joyous trill at that, and Arum hides a smile as he takes a bite of his food.

“Hm.” Rilla taps her fork against her plate absently. “Angelo obviously, and Tal and Marc and Dampierre…” she sighs. “We can’t invite Sir Caroline, even if we did kind of reach an understanding. She’ll still walk in and behead the monster that’s supposed to marry us in a heartbeat, no doubt. And I would invite Quanyii, but I have no idea how to get in touch with her, and, well-”

“You think she’ll start asking for my thumbs again, Amaryllis?”

“Oh hush, I was desperate and I never promised anything.” She pauses. “But I really don’t want her to bring it up again, yeah.”

“I am amused that you should wish such a chaotic creature attend our ceremony at all,” Arum says with a laugh.

“She was instrumental in the saving of our Citadel,” Damien muses. “I’m sure if we are determined, we can find a way to contact her.”

“Maybe,” Rilla says. “Either way, I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves a bit. Saints… I can’t believe we’re going to have to plan a wedding. I had resigned myself to perpetual engagement, to be honest.”

“It can be done however you want it to be, Amaryllis,” Arum reminds her, trying not to sound too eager. “You need not adhere to any human traditions that you do not find appealing. And the Keep will help make any arrangements with the space that we need, of course.”

“Will we hold the actual ceremony outside?” Rilla asks, tilting her head. “I don’t imagine that you would want any knights and critters running around the inside of the Keep at will, wedding or no.”

“I had-” Arum pauses. “I hadn’t thought of that. I had been imagining-” a new song filling the greenhouse, hopeful and content instead of yearning, this time. Arum clears his throat, continues, “imagining it in the greenhouse. But outside, yes, I suppose that makes more sense-”

“The greenhouse,” Rilla sighs. “It is the most incredible room in the Keep, I think.”

The Keep sings a soft pleased note at that, and Arum scowls but does not mean it in the least.

“And we could have the Keep seal it off,” Damien suggests, “and only have the guests come in through portals, limit access to the rest of the structure, if only to keep things simple and contained…”

“Yes,” Arum says, fiercely glad that they appear as enthusiastic about the idea as he is. “Yes, I think that will work quite well.”

“How soon were you thinking that we would hold the actual- ceremony?” Rilla asks, watching with amusement as Arum clenches and unclenches his fists, not meeting her eyes.

“I… a month, perhaps?” he suggests, his heart thudding, not sure if that time frame is at all reasonable by human standards. “Small ceremony, shouldn’t require too much planning, just- need to see if our ‘priest’ is willing, make sure those we want will be able to attend- and-” he sighs. “I am due to molt soon, and I had wanted to wait until after that unpleasantness for this.”

“M-molt?” Damien asks, voice tilting up.

“Lizard,” Rilla chimes, and Arum scowls.

“I am a magical construct-”

“Who just so happens to closely resemble a bunch of lizards and shares many biological similarities with them,” Rilla says with a shrug and a grin. “You haven’t noticed, Damien? The Keep’s been trying to keep him all moisturized and cared for, but poor Arum’s scales have been all dry and pale lately.”

“It isn’t exactly a pleasant process,” Arum grouses.

“But I bet you’ll look pretty incredible when it’s over.” She pauses, eying him. “Shiny new husband,” she muses, mostly to watch the way his posture freezes, the way his eyes go wide, and then narrow.

“Shameless tormentor,” he mutters, fondly, leaning so he can nudge an arm against hers. “So. After I molt at least.”

“Let’s wait until we hear from your monster officiant, and when we know they’ll be available we can start inviting the rest of the little group.”

“You are being remarkably quiet, honeysuckle,” Arum says after a moment, and Rilla feigns a wince.

“Oh, don’t get him started,” she teases.

“It’s only-” Damien laughs, possibly at himself. “I’m so happy,” he says wonderingly. “It’s quite overwhelming, actually. Distracting, even- I keep thinking about-” he glances towards Arum, then gives another pleased little laugh. “I keep half expecting to wake from a dream. This seemed impossible only a day ago, and yet-”

“The impossible is my business, honeysuckle,” Arum says mildly.

“I am overwhelmed by my love for the both of you,” he says, and Rilla smiles and sighs and reaches out to grip his wrist.

“You know we love you too,” she says gently. “No need to get worked up this early in the morning. Besides, you might wanna start saving up your speeches for the wedding itself, don’t you think?”

“I am going to preemptively set a time limit on any speechifying or poetry-reading during the ceremony,” Arum barks quickly.

“At the reception, then,” Rilla concedes with a smile.

“The what?”

Rilla blinks, then bursts out laughing. “Okay- I am asking this completely seriously, I’m not laughing at you, I promise. Have you ever actually been to a wedding, Arum?”

“Of-” he snaps his mouth shut, his snout wrinkling in irritation. “I-” he bares his teeth, and then his shoulders sink in defeat. “Of course not. When would I have ever? Who do you think would have invited me?”

Damien is making a face like he’s about to declare that he would, of course, he would invite Arum anywhere, for the rest of his life, anywhere and everywhere, all the most beautiful places- but Rilla steers the conversation before the poet can make Arum any more uncomfortable.

“It’s not a big deal, Arum. I just- didn’t want there to be any big surprises for you if you didn’t know what to expect. Usually after the whole actual ceremony, there’s a reception. A party, really. With food, and dancing, presents, and stuff like that. We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, though.”

“… dancing?” Arum echoes.

“Dancing,” Damien agrees in a dreamy tone, his head tilted and eyes looking somewhere distant.

“I… enjoy…” Arum pauses, frill flaring enough to reveal his embarrassment. “I enjoy dancing,” he says quietly, and then he coughs and sticks his nose in the air just a bit. “Of course, I’m sure your human dancing customs are just like all of your other customs: rigid and ridiculous and if you put one claw out of line someone will mock you for it.”

Damien, affronted, opens his mouth to retort, but Rilla gets there first with a laugh.

“Some dancing is like that,” she admits. “But obviously if you wouldn’t like that sort of lock-step, organized dancing, we just wouldn’t do it. I mean, I don’t really like that kind of dancing either, so that’s fine with me.”

Damien ducks his head slightly, almost pouting, but then he sighs and admits, “Most of that choreography is designed for… groupings of two, anyway.”

Arum wrinkles his nose. “Ugh. So invariably dull. You creatures cannot even cavort without putting restraints on every little step and turn.”

Damien frowns in earnest, now. “You don’t seem to mind terribly the restraint on my every little step and turn when I go through my exercises each morning, when you so often conveniently happen to be nearby and observing.”

“I-” Arum’s eyes dart to the side in a way that fails entirely to be stealthy. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I mean, I do,” Rilla says with a shrug. “Watching Damien stretch is my favorite part of my morning routine, just barely beating out coffee.”

Arum laughs. “Fine, fine. I suppose restraint can have its place.”

“What I’m getting from this is that you do want to dance, though,” Rilla says slyly.

“Dancing, food,” he deflects with a shrug, “none of that sounds… disagreeable.”

“How coy your phrasing,” Damien says, voice lilting. “Who would have suspected that a monster could be so very meek about the simple matter of a dance?”

“Meek,” Arum growls. He clearly knows that Damien is goading him, but he narrows his eyes and stands regardless. “I will show you meek, little knight. Keep?”

The Keep sings, then, but not in the usual way, not in its harmonious vagueness, but with rhythm and purpose. A full song, not a phrase of notes. Arum lifts Damien out of his chair with a hand on each side of his waist, and the movement glides easily into a waltzing turn. Arum is substantially taller than Damien, and Damien is less used to following than he is to leading, but he adjusts quickly with a laugh on his breath as Arum guides him through a series of steps that manage to be both unpredictable and elegant at the same time. Monstrous, but controlled. He turns Damien in a tight circle, and his movements to the music are measured and slow compared to his typical blurring speed. Finally he dips the knight back, leaning in close to nip at his jaw as if he just can’t help himself, and when that startles a more enthusiastic laugh out of Damien, Arum pulls him back to stand again, looking equal parts smug and smitten.

“Wedding ceremony planning, version two, entry one,” Rilla chimes into her recorder with a grin, and both of her breathless fiances pause to look at her. “Dancing at the reception is non-negotiable.”

[justpeachyshua]

part time

pairing: joshua x female reader characters: joshua hong, kwon soonyoung rating/warnings: teen+ for language; no warnings au: convenience store workers, college/university word count: 4,549 summary: “Working at a convenience store is about as easy a job as you can get. People come in and out, stopping on their way to bigger and better things, getting gas or food. Never did I think that working at a job like this could be remotely fun. Not until I began working alongside a guy so gentle, thoughtful, and oh so gorgeous. The only thing is, I don’t know his name.” 

note: hey guys!! this is my first one shot and svt fic in general, so i hope you enjoy it! i am fairly new to the fic community on tumblr, though i’ve had my ao3 account for a while and i’ve been working on a the boyz chat fic on there. i decided that i wanted to try to open up a tumblr dedicated to one shots and shorter fics and other things about my faves, so here it is! just about everything i post here will be on my ao3, but i might include some bonuses or extras here. anyways, on to the fic! 

Locking my phone and tossing it onto my bed, I let out a groan at the realization that this night would truly be one of the most boring nights of my life.

“I need you and the new guy to watch the store tonight. I’ve gotta take my son to the orthodontist at 5 and I don’t think I’ll be back in time to close the store. It’ll just be a few hours so I hope you guys don’t burn the place down.”

While in the middle of an intense Mario Kart race with my roommate, Soonyoung, I received that text from my boss and almost immediately wanted to fling my body into the sun. After quickly collecting myself and sending a polite yet casual response saying that of course I’d look after the store and of course I’d try to stay out of the break room and of course I’d be sure to card anyone looking to buy liquor and just about every precaution I could imagine, I settled back into my spot on the floor.

“Work?” My roommate muttered, eyes unmoving from the TV.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “He wants me to come in tonight because his son has an appointment. I guess we have to cancel movie night.”

“This is the third night you’ve cancelled though!” He set the controller down after finishing in 8th place. “Can he get off your ass? I swear you’re always out working.”

“Well, I mean, if it wasn’t clear from the fact that our fridge contains only juice boxes, milk, leftover pizza, and half a container of butter, we need money.”

He chuckled, turning the Wii and TV off. “Fine, fine, go. But bring me back some ice cream, kay?”

“I’m not gonna steal from the store just so you can have some mint chocolate chip ice cream.” I checked my phone and saw that it was already 4:30, then grabbed my coat and headed for the door. “Nice try, though.”

Soonyoung called out to me, stopping me before I left. “Wait! You gotta promise me you’ll actually talk to that guy today, okay? It’s been weeks.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, sure. I’ll try. Just go back to playing Mario Kart and let me go to work.”

As I made my usual trek to the bus stop headed for the store, I thought about Soonyoung’s words. There was, indeed, a new guy at the store and a fairly cute one at that. He had joined as the only other employee just a few weeks ago and was still a bit inexperienced and shy. He never spoke much in the store other than simple greetings and questions like “Have you stocked the chips yet?” and “Do you have the key to the cigarette case?” Still, he was definitely a nice guy. Whenever he could, he did a little extra cleaning and always made sure that his area of the store was completely organized before clocking out.

Even though we’d been coworkers for a while, we still hadn’t properly introduced ourselves to each other, partially because the store was so hectic the day he joined, what with our boss’s wife going into labor with their second kid that day and leaving the store in our hands for the first time. Since then, there just hadn’t been a good enough moment to ask without it being awkward. I liked to speculate what his name could be, especially when I brought the subject up with Soonyoung. While I thought he looked more like a Tae, Soonyoung stood by his belief that he was a Jae, especially after getting to see him in person while visiting me at work.

“Even if he isn’t a Jae, I’m telling you he’s a J guy,” Soonyoung stated with confidence and a mouthful of cookie when we got home that day. “I can feel it in my bones. Like a sixth sense or something.”

“I think that’s a sugar high, Soonyoung.”

Whether or not Soonyoung’s “sixth sense” was anything to go off of or not, I did feel the urge to finally start talking to this kid. Surely Soonyoung was tired of hearing me talk about how this guy was “pretty cute” and nothing much else so, if not for my sake then for his, I decided I would learn more about this kid. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that I had to prove to Soonyoung that I was right about his name and it most definitely had nothing to do with the fact that any moment in the store not spent lazily milling around was spent staring and daydreaming about him. Absolutely not.

The bus ride to the store took only about 25 minutes, so I entered with a couple of minutes to spare which I used to scan for the best spots I could stock while avoiding the most customers later on. Mr. Han, the boss of the store, interrupted my search, telling me to put my vest on so he could go. I heeded his words and headed to the back of the shop where we kept employee goods like an old TV and DVD player and a couple snacks. The new guy was already there, sliding his own vest on and staring down at his phone. Without a word, I grabbed my vest and quickly went back out with the new guy trailing behind me.

“Alright kids, you pretty much already know how to run the store. I won’t be back for the rest of the night, but be sure to lock up before 10:00. I don’t want to keep you guys here for too long on a Saturday night and there shouldn’t be too many customers anyways.”

We nodded along.

“Well, I’m off. Good luck and make wise choices!” He waved goodbye as he let the glass door shut behind him, the sound of the chimes above trailing off as well. Almost immediately, we went to our usual posts - me by the register and him milling about the aisles. We were completely silent for the most part. We stayed to ourselves, like usual, letting customers flow in and out every few minutes and attending to them as necessary. The store wasn’t particularly busy, though we were kept working long enough that we still hadn’t found the time to say a single word to each other by the time the clock struck 6:10, about an hour later.

I swiped the credit card of the last customer in line and handed him his bag of snacks. As he walked away, I was worried that another customer might enter and delay mine and the new guy’s introductions - maybe even causing me to lose the opportunity altogether - but no one came in. The store was quiet for a minute or two then. Awkwardly quiet.

With nothing to do, I realized I had my chance to talk. “So… what’s up?” I clumsily sat on the wooden stool behind me. Smooth...

I watched as the new guy paced around, poking at the shelves of ramen and mac and cheese. His long sleeve shirt wasn’t quite his size, so his sleeves came up to his palms as he extended his hands to the various boxes thoughtlessly. It was honestly pretty charming. “Not much. Missing out on a couple boring documentaries at home, but otherwise not a whole lot.” He picked a box up, shifting it around. “You?”

“Well, I could be with my roommate watching shitty horror movies and playing video games, but instead I’m here watching the store with some guy.”

With a box of Kraft in hand, he clutched his chest. “Just some guy? I’ll have you know I have a name.”

I smiled at his attempt at humor so early into the conversation. “I’m sure you do. But do you even know mine?” He looked down at the Kraft box as though it would give him the answer. “Ah, so you don’t.”

“I mean, neither of us has really asked,” he pointed out.

“Fair. Well, guy, I’m Y/N.” I stuck my hand out across the counter, which he strided over to in order to complete the handshake.

“Well, Y/N, I’m--”

“Mommy, can I get the Oreos?!” We both turned our heads towards the door which had just begun to chime at the entrance of new customers - those customers being a couple and their daughter. The mom looked stressed, the daughter hyperactive, and the dad fairly indifferent.

The mom grabbed the daughter’s arm, leading her away from the snacks aisle. “No, sweetie, we’re only going to be here for a short time, okay?” The little girl huffed and continued to tug at her mom’s arm.

The dad approached me and calmly asked where the bathroom was. I pointed him past the ice cream refrigerator and he briskly walked away. I made eye contact with the new guy once he left and shrugged my shoulders before walking around the counter to “inspect” some of the bottles of nonprescription medicine. Soon enough, the little girl was making another fuss, this time stamping her feet on the ground as she begged her mom for the Oreos. Among the loud shouts from the girl and the sound of little boots hitting the floor, the mom was clearly trying to quiet her down. This quickly proved to be unsuccessful when the loud thud of a large box falling resounded throughout the store, immediately followed by the sound of small items scattering across the floor. I rushed over to the aisle the two were walking through and noticed the jumbo box of cereal spilling out and the mother holding her daughter up off the floor.

“I am so so sorry! I was trying to take her away from this aisle and she pulled the box down. Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I’ll clean it up.” The mother began to profusely apologize, her daughter sitting in her arms looking passive.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” I politely smiled, already reaching for the broom and dustpan in the corner of the store and beginning to sweep up the colorful pieces of cereal. “It was cheap anyways,” I reassured her.

She ran her free hand through her hair in frustration and took out her wallet. “I’ll pay for it up front, I promise. I feel so bad for making you sweep this up.” She rushed to the front counter and the new guy quickly met her there, ringing up the price of the cereal and accepting her payment. As I finished sweeping up and hid the cereal box where I could find it later and reminded myself to check the seals on the other boxes, I watched him carefully count out change for the mom. His hands lingered over the tray in the register and delicately picked out the appropriate coins before he handed them to her, letting them fall from his fingers.

He walked around the counter and plucked a lollipop from a display we had set up, bending down and handing it to the little girl. She immediately quieted and a grin spread across her face. “I know it’s not Oreos, but, in my opinion, they’re just as good,” he smiled. He looked up at the mom standing beside her. “Ah, don’t worry. These things have basically no added sugar in them, they’re as clean as you can get them.”

The mom gave a tired smile. “Thank you so, so much. Again, I’m sorry for causing you two any trouble.”

“It’s no problem at all!” He beamed. He looked down at the little girl again. “Now, make sure you thank your mom for letting you keep the lollipop, okay?”

The little girl nodded enthusiastically in response and her father finally returned from the restroom and thanked us. As they left the store, the girl turned back and waved. “Bye bye, pretty man!”

I scoffed as I tried to hold in my laughter and I could see the new guy’s eyes widen in shock, caught off guard by the innocent compliment. I walked back over to the counter and perched myself onto the stool again. “I hope you know those things are packed full of sugar and preservatives.”

He sighed while he watched the chimes above the door slow to a halt. “I know. I just told her that so she wouldn’t get too upset over the lollipop. It’s pretty clear that girl wasn’t going to stop without getting some kind of candy.” He rused.

My eyes traveled over to the chimes as well. When they finally fell back into place, I looked back at him. “I see you’re good with kids.”

“I guess I am. I mean, back home I used to babysit the neighborhood kids a lot so I guess I just got used to being around children.”

“And where’s back home?” I inquired, leaning my elbows on my knees.

“Los Angeles. Cali boy in the flesh,” he gestured over himself.

“L.A., huh? That’s kinda fancy.” I looked him up and down. “I mean, now that I really take a look at you, I can totally see it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean the carefully-messy hair, the ripped jeans, the sun-tanned skin, just the way you talk - it’s sooo ‘Cali.’” I put air quotes around the word, mocking his use of it.

He stood up straight, making himself just taller than me when sitting on the stool. “You know, I bet you’ve never even been to California.”

I sat in thought for a second before hopping off the stool. “Hmm, you’re right. I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how L.A. boys act. I’ve done plenty of research.” I wandered the store again, eyes traveling over various sweets.

“Research?”

“You know, movies, shows, dumb YouTubers with cult followings, good sources,” I joked.

He chortled. “Oh, please. I promise I’m not like that.”

“Mmhmm, we’ll see. Next time I see you, you’ll have dropped a diss track on Soundcloud and I’ll have to pretend like I don’t know you, right?” I called back at him as I pulled a bag of cookies off the shelf for myself.

“Yup, and it’ll be entirely about you. I’ll be dropping hot bars on how the girl at the convenience store’s been taking shots at me,” he played along.

“See, the sad part is I can totally see you doing that.” I walked back towards him, opening the bag and pulling a chocolate chip cookie out. “Want one?”

He nodded, taking the cookie out of my hand and making me realize just how cold my hands were in comparison to his which were incredibly warm. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the warmth of his hands seemed right considering how warm he looked. A warm sweater, warm brown eyes, warm laughter, warm smile on warm pink lips. His lips, when I looked at them closely, were really endearing, curling up at the corners like a kitten’s. Seconds passed and I realized I had been staring for far longer than acceptable.

Looking away, I stuttered, “So, uh, what do you do? Besides work here, I mean.”

“Well, I go to university, study, and attend parties I shouldn’t really go to.”

“You local?”

“Actually, I go to Korea University.”

“Are you a genius? How the hell did you manage to get into KU?” I gaped.

He shrugged. “Just worked hard to get where I wanted, I guess.”

“Are you in any clubs or anything?”

“Hmm, not really, but I play music with friends every now and then. Nothing serious, just casual gigs at house parties.”

“What do you play?”

He hesitated quickly before settling on his answer. “Just guitar.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Just guitar? I doubt that.”

“I sing too, sometimes.” I began to speak when he interjected, “I’m not gonna sing now, though. Not happening.”

I snickered. “I wasn’t going to ask that, actually. I was gonna ask if you’d take me to one of those house parties. For the experience, you know.”

He looked taken aback by my question and took a moment to think before responding, “I’ll consider. I don’t even have a way to reach you, though.”

“Is this you asking for my number?” I joked.

“Is this you suggesting that you’d give it to me?”

I looked up at him, seeing his eyes move around the room in what seemed to be nervousness. They landed on me for a moment and I swore I saw a hint of uncertainty in his look.

“Are you flirting with me right now?” I stepped closer to him.

“I-”

The light sound of the storefront chimes sounded again. My eyes cast down and I took a step back. I could vaguely hear him mumble a frustrated “Again?” under his breath before he stepped out from behind the counter, changing face to become the polite store employee he normally was. I turned to see who was entering the store and saw a group of about seven teenagers flooding in through the door. I sighed and took my spot behind the register, disappointed at the lost moment.

The kids wandered about the store in their little group and chattered to themselves. After a couple seconds, I pulled my phone out and began scrolling through Twitter to pass the time. Soon enough, someone was standing in front of me and I looked up to see one of the kids, a girl with clearly bleached hair.

“How can I help you?”

“Can I get a pack of Marlboro Silvers?” She asked, looking me in the eyes.

I furrowed my brow. She was clearly a high schooler, probably not older than a junior. “I’ll need to see some ID.” She swiftly pulled a card out from her pocket and handed it to me. Upon close inspection, I saw a small corner of the card peeling up. I ran my finger over it and put two and two together: it was a fake ID, and a poorly made one at that. I quirked an eyebrow and slid the card over to her. “I can’t get that for you.”

“I think you should take a better look at it.”

“You should get a more convincing ID before you suggest that.”

She huffed and angrily took the card back. I rolled my eyes as she walked back to the group, shaking her head. Mr. Han had advised us to ID everyone but I didn’t think anyone would actually try to buy cigs illegally. It just seemed dumb, walking up to a store clerk as if you aren’t obviously an acne-sprouting teenager and trying to convince them that you’re a legal adult. But then again, people do dumb things to get what they want all the time.

I looked around the store. In the corner, the kids were looking through various refrigerators, picking out sodas and ice creams. Just a few feet away, the new guy stood, wiping down some of the refrigerator doors that didn’t need wiping down. I could tell he was just giving himself something to do while those kids were around, not wanting to particularly interact with them. I almost wanted to laugh at how obviously he was wasting time, doing such a useless task. To be fair, I did it all the time, but I noticed he was especially distracted as he looked back at me every now and then.

In the midst of watching him move the towel over the same spot for the tenth time, he whipped his head and shouted. “Hey, what are you doing?!” I jumped, thinking he was talking to me, before I realized he was looking directly at the group of kids. From where I was standing, I could see one of them was carefully putting something into her backpack and I realized it was a large bottle of, presumably, alcohol. As soon as they heard the new guy’s exclamation, they bolted for the door and, by the time I could even process what was happening, he was already chasing them out of the store. I rushed out to see where they had gone, but all I saw was the guy, about five yards away, hunched over and out of breath. Scanning the area, I concluded that the kids were already long gone.

“You okay?” I called out to him.

He turned around, continuing to huff. He seemed like he was going to have an asthma attack at any second, so I jogged over to him and placed my hand on his shoulder. Upon contact, he stood back up and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“They ran,” I said awkwardly.

“I know.” He shook his head. “If I was just a little faster, maybe I could’ve stopped them.”

“I mean, at least they’re gone now,” I offered. I motioned for him to follow me back into the store. “I’ll pay for the drink, it’s no big deal. How much was it?”

“Fifteen, I think. I don’t know, I’m just disappointed that I let them go like that.”

“It’s not your fault,” I insisted, dropping a ten and a five in the register. “They���re just a bunch of hoodlums.”

He chuckled. “Hoodlums. Haven’t heard that one used since the 20s.”

“It’s just what they are, man. Kids these days have no respect!” I exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air.

Laughing, he said, “We’re only, like, a couple of years older than them.”

I lowered my finger. “Still, I don’t associate with them.” He only continued to laugh and soon I was smiling and giggling too. His amusement was just so infectious and I couldn’t hold back. At some point in his laughing fit he let out a loud snort and I knew at that moment that I was way too enamored with him.

After calming down and catching my breath I picked my phone up once again, unlocking to check for any notifications. My eyes lit up as soon as they landed on the first notification, reading:

“Hey! We just got out of the appointment. Sorry it took so long, he ended up getting his braces put on today. You guys should probably go ahead and lock the store up now that it’s getting late. Hope you guys held the fort down well. See you Monday.”

I looked up at the time displayed at the top of my screen, seeing that it was already 9:46.

“What?” The guy asked, noticing my eyes glued to my phone. “What’s up?”

“Mr. Han said we can lock up and head home now,” I explained, shoving my phone into my back pocket and making a beeline for the break room and shrugging my vest off. “God, I am so ready to get back to wasting time at home.”

He, too, came to the back of the store with me, taking his uniform off and gathering his belongings. “What, did you not like hanging out with me for the last four and a half hours?”

I smiled to myself as I grabbed my bag. “No, quite the opposite actually.” I turned back to face him. “I had a pretty good time.”

“I had a good time, too.” He paused for a few seconds, remaining looking at me. He cleared his throat. “Let’s head to the bus stop.”

“You ride the bus, too? I always see you walking the opposite direction.”

“I thought I’d speed up the ride home,” he excused. I squinted, not totally convinced, but let it slide anyways.

We walked side by side in silence until we reached the bus stop, only a few blocks away. We stood there for a while, a foot apart, comfortable. I looked up at him and saw him staring into space, lost in thought. I tapped his shoulder. He looked at me with wide, curious eyes. “Hmm?”

“Earlier, before those kids came in, I asked if you were flirting with me. What was your answer going to be?”

“Ah, that.” He looked away sheepishly. “What would you do if I was?”

I paused to consider my response. “I think I would like it.” He turned back to me, shocked. “And I would probably flirt back and ask if you wanna hang out someplace other than a dingy convenience store.”

He nodded, looking away again. “Nice, nice. Well now I know for future reference.” I smiled at his awkwardness. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I’m ever flirting with you. So you know, of course.”

The bus pulled up a few moments later, signalling the end of this long night. I began to walk towards the bus, but he, for the first time in the past four and a half hours, wasn’t trailing behind me. “You coming?”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t actually ride the bus home. I only live a couple of minutes away, but maybe I wanted to walk you to the stop and talk for a couple of minutes more. Potentially. Hypothetically.”

“Then thanks. Hypothetically.” My grin stayed glued to my face as he ran through his explanation. I knew the bus would be leaving in only a few seconds more, so I had to turn and step on, but I didn’t want to leave this guy at all. Reluctantly, I started to take the first few steps on board. I turned back at the last second. “Wait, you never got to tell me your name.”

“It’s Joshua! Josh, for short, whatever works for you.” That kitten-like curl of his lip happened again and I wanted to melt. Joshua, of course. I don’t know how I could’ve expected his name to be anything else. It was sweet, gentle, and charming. It fit him perfectly.

“Well, Josh, I’ll see you Monday.” I waved while the bus door closed behind me and I made my way to an empty seat, sure that he was waving back at me. I thought about his earlier words - his semi-confession - and I could tell my face was heating up. It was almost childlike, the way I was getting so flustered. I sent a quick text to Soonyoung a few minutes before my arrival at the stop.

“Hey Soonyoung, I’m almost home. Go ahead and start making some ramen so we can pick a movie as soon as I’m in”

He responded within seconds.

“Lol you got it.”

I hesitated before sending another message.

“Oh and Soon? I learned his name today”

“It's Joshua”

The next couple of messages were sent in quick succession, each one in all caps and containing a variety of keyboard smashes, including one very long “I TOLD YOU SOOOOLKHJLKGDJHLK.” I chuckled to myself and shut my phone off, putting it away in my bag. The rest of the ride was short and sweet as I reminisced on the events that had unfolded. The spilled cereal, the little girl, the lollipop, the cigarettes, the alcohol, the flirting, the laughter - it all felt like a dream. The night was so simultaneously long and quick and all the best parts consisted of interactions with him - Josh. It felt odd knowing his name finally, but I never wanted that name to leave my mind. I wanted to remember it for as long as I could.

[wickerjulias]

okie dokie so i read all of the fics that you reccommended embarassly fast, do you have any long napollya recs i don't care if they're super angsty but I cannot deal with not a happy ending.... i'm sorry they were just so GOOD my favorites were toska and a literary manifesto !!! -your fic needing stalker anon

hey there anon!! i’m sorry for the delay. and omg yeah!! i love these two!! like wow!! 

unfortunately the tmfu fandom doesn’t a lot of very long fics, but i tried my best to find some for you. here you go, same format as your last ask, i hope you’re gonna have a blast reading them!

Tidings of Comfort and Joy by pinpointjudas (M)

Napoleon and Illya are sent to deepest, darkest Yorkshire to investigate a rumour that a THRUSH agent is spending Christmas at Castle Bellamy. Their brief is to hide in plain sight amongst other house guests. Napoleon is convinced it will be an almost enjoyable case, provided Illya cheers up, the ghost in his bedroom leaves him alone, and they catch the nefarious agent before anyone winds up dead...

Note: This one isn’t finished technically, because the epilogue is missing. I’d still give it a read though, because it’s written super well and because most of the issues the story deals with get resolved in the last chapter posted.

The Ghost War by manic_intent (E)

Aleppo was one of the oldest cities on earth, and once, it had been one of the most beautiful. Illya had been here before the war, when he was younger, young enough to be taken by wanderlust. He had walked through the very place he stood now, gawking at the crowds, the tightly packed stalls, listening to voices haggling in a language he did not understand, the market riotous with colour and laughter and spices. Now Al-Madina Souq was broken with rubble, its arched corridors blasted dark, its cathedral silence sometimes interrupted rudely by the distant staccato booming of artillery and gunfire, the ancient stone thick with the stench of rot and urine.

Note: This one is rather short in comparison to the others, but it’s so good!! I’d def rec it!

in sin + error by neroh, (M+E)

The mission is a simple one: retrieve a USB drive from a very bad man’s yacht off located in the Mediterranean Sea and confirm its destruction to HQ.Or another way Napoleon and Illya met.

Note: This one��s a series.

all that you have wished for, I know will come your way by janie_tangerine (E)

Napoleon isn’t quite sure he can put yes, because your superiors don’t get to see you gloating when you’re not playing chess against yourself, and they don’t get to discuss dumb opera plots with you, they don’t get to see you engrossed in cheap paperbacks and treat them like first editions because you care that much about what they say, and they don’t get to see that you have a personality and that it’s everything but unpleasant when one gets to know you, and I don’t understand why would anyone think it’s a good idea to treat you like an asset and not a person in words that might not sound completely ridiculous, never mind that he’s not even sure Illya would take such a rant seriously.

Or: where Illya has issues asking for what he wants if it falls under the unnecessary-to-his-job radar and Napoleon just might be a bit over in his head, but he's entirely willing to rectify that situation.

Wanting Too Much by Tallihensia (E)

A young soldier turned thief after the war, Napoleon goes to a black-market auction to sell a valuable painting... and comes away with something he didn't intend to buy – a Russian KGB agent. After an interesting night where they get to know each other, the next day finds them determined to do something to right some wrongs... but not all wrongs can be corrected that easily. As they work together, Napoleon learns some hard truths... but also comes away at the end with something more valuable than a painting.

Note: Technically speaking NOT with a happy end, but there is some sort-of sequel you can find in the endnotes of the fic.

By the Throat (T+E)

In which the KGB took some rather dubious measures to ensure Illya’s loyalty to Russia, and Napoleon doesn’t care for it.

Note: This is a series as well, but it’s restricted and only available if you have an AO3 account.

how certain the journey by Carthage (E)

Illya’s mark – Solo’s claim on his skin- is an ugly thing. In childhood it had shone like Solo’s, beautiful and good and bright, but then he had gone to the KGB, and there, they had tried to destroy the mark. To make him truly equal, and no one’s submissive. His mark has burned patches outlining it, thin crosshatches of scars, pockmarked pits of white skin- and yet, the mark returned, every time.

despite the passage by endquestionmark (E)

Illya has been waiting for something to happen for a very long time.

The Honey Trap by Mamalazzer (E)

"So congratulations, Peril," Napoleon drawled, looking so amused that he could see it was literally setting Illya's teeth on edge. "You have the supreme good fortune of getting to kiss me senseless. Now be a good sport and put your hands on my backside, would you? I'm beginning to feel neglected."

In which the boys have to go undercover as a couple, with Napoleon having a whale of a time while Illya isn't sure whether to knock Napoleon's teeth out or kiss him.

Spanning the Reaches byTallihensia (E+T)

Napoleon reflects on his partner while waiting to rescue him. Afterwards, Illya has a unique way of saying thank you for saving his life. Napoleon thinks it’s a good idea... and after Illya saves him, returns the thanks.

Note: A series as well.

The Trojan Affair bymanic_intent (E)

Ten minutes to go to ground zero and Artyom was still desperately trying to escape. “I have never attended little girl’s birthday party,” he pointed out repeatedly, and actually pouted, big blue eyes wide and pleading.

“Always a first time,” Napoleon said mercilessly, pulling on a charcoal Tom Ford blazer over his loose gray knit. “Mrs Siegfried invited us weeks ago, Artyom, don’t be a baby. You’ve had quite a while to gird your loins. We’re going to a party, not some sort of trench warfare. Smile.”

Artyom scowled, which was admittedly normally an adorable look even for a tall, blonde Russian giant of a man. “I do not like Mrs Siegfried,” Artyom declared, clearly intent on being as recalcitrant as possible.

The Gemini Affair by manic_intent (E)

In the first month of being co-opted into working with Illya Kuryakin full time at U.N.C.L.E., Napoleon stole Illya’s father’s watch four times, twice out of spite, once out of drunken curiosity, and once out of sheer boredom. After the fourth time, Gaby sprained one of Napoleon’s fingers and threatened to do worse if he did it again.

“You are not a spy,” she told him firmly, dangling the watch out of reach as Napoleon curled in a wincing, fetal position on his Le Corbusier couch in his upstate apartment. “You are a thief with the self-control of a child. Now give me back my ring.”

“What ring?” Napoleon asked innocently, even through the pain.

“How fond are you of your nose?” Gaby shot back blandly.

I am a part of all that I have met by ScribeofArda (T+M)

It's been over a year since Rome, since they stopped the world ending, since Napoleon made a choice and threw a watch across the room instead of pulling a gun. They've been spiralling together in that inevitable way, but neither Napoleon or Illya have been brave enough to take the first step across to the other.

Now it might all be too late, and Napoleon didn't think it would end like this: Illya lying in the street, ash and blood and Napoleon's name on his lips. There are a thousand unspoken words between them, begging to be heard before they become just another regret on top of the many they've already accumulated over the years, but the game never stops, not even for love.

Note: Again, a series.

Drowning Deep bySomedrunkpirate

Don’t follow the rabbit. He knows this. Don’t fall into the rabbit hole of memories. You’ll drown.

But Illya lives there, deep in the past, it’s the only way he gets through the day.

The Argonauts byleslielol

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin accompany one another on a journey.

[literal-literate-lucifer]

I’ve been a tad busy as of late, and since I didn’t want to just not post, I figured I’d upload another oneshot from my Ao3. Sorry for delays, I just don’t want to accidentally rush and have it affect the quality of my work!

Summary: Kakyoin x Reader, post-SDC AU (Kak lives/no one dies). Basically, Kakyoin and Reader work as kindergarten teachers. 

Your days were spent playing pretend and teaching basic addition. You were no different from any other Kindergarten teacher, really. You had the patience of a Saint, dreams of inspiring young minds, and energy to spare. As one must when dealing with groups of five year olds.

The job had its perks. Summers and weekends off, easy teaching material, the occasional e-mail from a parent about how much their child loved your class. There's really no better feeling than that of knowing you had a positive impact on a student's life. Despite all this, one perk stood above the rest.

The perk of getting to see your boyfriend at work every day.

You'd met on the job, hitting it off nearly instantly. He was a fairly introverted man, very friendly despite the vibe the scars over his eyes gave off. He didn't have the same boundless energy most of the other teachers did, but he was easy-going and patient. Thoughtful and compassionate, just your type really.

At lunch you two always sat next to each other on the staff tables, gossiping about the other teachers, telling stories about the dumb things your students did, or simply engaging in idle chit-chat. One day he'd been oddly quiet, though. Sure he wasn't extremely talkative but complete silence was unlike him.

"Noriaki?" He looked up from his food, cocking his head to show he was listening. "Are you okay? You haven't said anything all lunch..."

Pausing, he looked over at you. Thinking.

"Actually... I did have something I wanted to ask you-" the beep of his watch's timer alerted him that his lunch was over, and that he had to head to get his class back to their room. Muttering a quiet 'shit' he produced a pen and paper scrap from his pocket, quickly scribbling something down.

Standing, Noriaki handed you the paper, "It's my phone number. I was going to ask if you wanted to go out sometime... catch a movie or get dinner or something. Just... call me if you're interested, okay?" Your nod of acknowledgement seemed to put him at ease, as he smiled and walked off. Did the room just increase by ten degrees, or was it just you blushing?

That fateful day was a couple years ago. He still felt bad about how informal he had been, but it didn't matter to you given how things turned out. What was one informal invitation when compared to the dozens of fancy dates he'd taken you out on since then? The answer was simple; nothing.

So here you sat for what felt like the millionth time, eating in the school's cafeteria. Noriaki was packing up to leave while you two discussed tonight's dinner plans- he'd made reservations for you two at a popular new burger place.

"Great. I'll swing by your class after hours to pick you up," with that he gave you a quick peck on the cheek, and went to throw away his trash. The action surprised you, because despite being together for a couple of years now neither of you had ever shown any sort of physical affection during school hours. No one even knew you two were going out. His gesture was -of course- greatly appreciated, and you spent the rest of your lunch in a blithe state, mentally fawning over your cherry boy.

When it came time for you to go back to class, you noticed your students were uncharacteristically quiet. Given that they still had a great respect for adults they were normally fairly soft-spoken in the halls, but being completely silent was unheard of. The bathroom break went in the same fashion, as did arriving in the classroom.

Everyone had settled in their seats, still quiet, and you picked up your pointer to resume the lesson. What happened next could only be described as 'all hell breaking loose'. The entire class burst into excited discussion, all seemingly directed at you. In the bustle you couldn't discern on voice from another, save for one lone question.

"Are you and Mr. Kakyoin married?!" The girl closest to you called out.

Oh my god.

All of the discussion seemed to be centered around this one subject, and you found it hard to believe this was all based around one kiss on the cheek.  Leave it to a bunch of five year old kids to react like this. The fact that they were only kindergartners didn't soothe your embarrassment, mostly due in part to their questions about marriage. That'd get anyone flustered.

Finding your bearings again, you rapped your pointer against the whiteboard. This quieted your students, yet they still gave you expectant grins as they giggled among themselves. If you wanted them to quiet down you'd have to give in to their questioning, embarrassing as it was.

"No, I am not married to Mr. Kakyoin, though we are dating." A handful of children gasped at this, some making disgusted faces at the prospect of 'gross adult romance', others piping up with how cute you two were together.

It was probably shocking to them that their teacher had a life outside of school. Every time you saw one of them outside of class they'd gape and ask "You go here too???", as if you didn’t but need groceries to survive like any other human. Lord knows what they thought about you having an actual relationship.

"Now," you picked up a dry-erase marker, "Get out your colored pencils, please..."

Seemingly placated by the answer you'd given them, they all moved (in their usual chattery bustle) to get their coloring supplies. You were just relived to resume the lesson.

—

The day had resumed as normal after that, aside from a couple of off-comments you'd quickly dispatched- it's not like kindergarteners had great attention spans. You were adding little happy notes to the children's drawings they'd turned in for the day, and checking spelling on the sentences they'd wrote to go with them. A knock on your door pulled you from your focus as you called out a tired "Come in!".

"Ms. (L/n), I hope I'm not bothering you," Noriaki chuckled as he slipped into the room and pulled a chair up to your desk. You just rolled your eyes.

"Actually you've caught me at a bad time, I'm grading these essays and I don't think I'll be finished for another few hours." You joked, gesturing to the minuscule stack of papers you'd yet to check. "But... I suppose I can put off my work just this once, for you."

"You're too kind," he said, resting his elbows on the desk to observe the papers. "In all seriousness, we should leave soon. Our reservations are in an hour, and it'll take a bit to get there."

Leaning across the desk you gave him a quick peck on the lips, then stood up and grabbed your bag, ready to go. You could check the rest of the papers tomorrow anyway. He followed you out and down the hall.

"You know how you kissed me on the cheek at lunch?" You asked.

"Yeah," he nods, "That was alright, right? I know we didn't really set a standard for affection at work so-"

You laughed, gently gripping his hand in assurance. "It was fine, Nori! It's just that, well..." your faced flushed a bit as you recalled today's events. "My students thought we were married."

"Mine did too," He said, a slight laugh evident in his tone. Though he was just as red as you.

Honestly, you'd considered the idea before. But never had anyone actually confronted you about it, nor had he ever brought it up. But looking back on the past few years, you really wouldn’t mind getting married to him.

Your eyes met for a few moments and part of you knew he was thinking the same thing as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you to his side as you exited the building.

"I love you, (Y/n),” he murmured, soft smile on his handsome face. You nuzzled into his side.

"I love you too, Nori," you replied in the same contented tone.

Maybe one day you’d be introducing yourself to a class as ‘Mrs. Kakyoin’. And maybe this one day would be the reason for that. You really wouldn’t mind if it was.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTES: Really, I am sorry about the long delay. Mostly a lot of personal business that doesn't matter in the slightest, haha, but I've also just been really distracted by leisure pursuits and other projects. I promise I haven't forgotten this fic and it will get posted.

It would take another full day of circuitous travel before they made it back to Wicca Falls. First, as per usual, they plotted to head East to confuse their trail, then this time South and West over Quadling Country until they could skirt the Outer Vinkus northward to their home. Though Fiyero's offer of lodging at an abandoned castle had been tempting, they both agreed that the safety of their little cave was what they needed that night.

However, they only made it as far as the Thousand Year Grasslands when the weather began to turn. At first, it only seemed to be a stronger headwind, but they were still leagues away from Neverdale when they were forced to land amongst the tall fields. As ungainly as their landing might have been, they were thankful it had not been any rougher or they might not have lived to tell the tale.

"Great Oz, what is this?" Glinda yelped as their cloaks were whipped around them.

"A storm — and a twigging good one!" Having to hold down her hat and broom, Elphaba felt herself being buffeted around, and in the open grassland there was nothing behind which they could take shelter. "Glinda! Don't let go of me!"

Lying as flat as they could, they were able to keep from being knocked down or otherwise inconvenienced. The broom was the worst of it; so much wind seemed to encourage it to take flight, and there were times both witches had to leap atop it to keep from losing it altogether. On one such occasion, Elphaba just scarcely managed to snatch her hat before it was carried off into the wild blue yonder.

"It's just a hat!" Glinda called out over the gale forces. "We could get you another one!"

"You gave this to me!" she cried as she stuffed it into her cloak, no longer trusting it to stay atop her head. "I could never let it be taken from me in such a… an unworthy fashion!"

Glinda had no answer to that. She felt one in her heart, thought of one, but the words sounded so silly that she couldn't quite force them out.

Once the worst of the winds had finally died down, they cautiously began to stand. Then the air stilled completely. It was so sudden that Glinda found herself half-crouched and blinking, completely at a loss for what she should do next.

"That was horrible," she finally breathed. "Just… just whipped up out of nowhere, and we almost crashed!"

Elphaba took her rumpled black hat out of her robes and plopped it on her head. Glinda often wondered if she had a spell on it that helped keep it secure during their usual flights. "No… not 'horrible' — Morrible. I don't know why, and I don't know how, but she's to blame for this wind."

Her companion clutched at her arm, and Elphaba embraced her back to afford her some comfort. "She knew we were flying. Maybe she thought we'd slam into the Kells!"

"Oh, Lurline knows what she thought! That devil woman, that, that… blowhard!"

"She did at that," Glinda quipped. Elphaba only glared. "Sorry. My mouth gets ahead of me when I'm scared."

At that, Elphaba ran a hand over her hair, sighing. "I'm sorry. This whole situation is so infuriating to me that sometimes I forget that you must have your own feelings about it. But we'll-"

When she suddenly cut off, looking upward, Glinda's eyes followed to see a flock of crows swirling into the sky. Whether they were crows or Crows was unclear. It was such a stark omen, like a black cloud rising from the far East, that she found herself holding her breath, as if waiting for the consequences to crash down on the pair of them immediately.

"I'm… I'm afraid again."

"What?"

"Nessa," Elphaba breathed. "I'm sorry, I know I've said this before, and things turned out so badly… but…"

She dropped her eyes, both frustrated and full of hot shame. But Glinda couldn't hold it against her. She didn't even wish to try. One hand passed up and down her friend's back as she leaned up to press a kiss into her cheek.

"Let's go check on Nessie. I know you won't be able to sleep if we don't."

"Sometimes, I think you know me a little too well." They both shared a bleak smile before mounting the broom and taking off at top speed.

                                    ~ o ~

As it happened, there was something to distract them from making it to Colwen Grounds. A very prominent, very strange something.

By the side of the Yellow Brick Road, very near Nest Hardings and the seat of the Munchkinland government, was an odd little house. This wasn't all that strange to Glinda on its own; why shouldn't someone live just to the side of such a well-travelled route? Would be easy enough for their friends and family to find them. However, she could tell by the look on Elphaba's face that this was a house that did not belong.

Upon getting closer, it was easy to see why. The house seemed to be a single large room, and was drably painted a greyish colour. It was the single most unimpressive building Glinda had ever seen in all her years — including some of the Quadling shacks. No polka dots on the doors, no stripes on the eaves… not even a little gargoyle by the chimney. Just plain, grey wood, slapped together into an ugly dwelling, which only looked yet uglier for having just appeared there. The state of disrepair seemed to suggest it had been dropped, but that was impossible… wasn't it?

"I don't know what to make of it," Elphaba breathed as they descended. "How could a house not be there a couple of days ago, and suddenly be here now?"

"Maybe it was already there, and it was just so boring nobody ever noticed," Glinda reasoned. "I mean, it's a teensy grey hut. Who cares?"

Apparently, that was not a popular opinion, as a crowd had already formed. Several members of Nessa's Pike Guild had come to regard it warily, polearms at the ready in case some beast or witch came charging out to have their heads. Many other citizens were also beginning to approach in a slow trickle from the city proper, slowing yet more the closer they got.

"We probably don't have much time, Elphie. What should we do? Stop here, or go on ahead to check on Nessa?"

"She's already here."

The nature of the scene before them began to seem different now that they could see Nessarose flanked by her guards, staring down the house as if it were already alive and ready to gobble them up. It would have been comical if the witches weren't equally frightened.

"Elphaba!" Nessa screamed the moment they came into view. "What have you done?!"

The green woman started. "What have I done? Come to see if you were alright, that's what I've done, and no more! What's happened?!"

Though the polearms raised to pierce them when they drew close, Nessa's raised hand forestalled them. They did not draw back, but remained at the ready, waiting for her signal. Unlike before, she was now dressed to the nines, black-and-white striped socks drawing attention downward to her glimmering shoes. Though her violet cape and silvery dress were no less impressive.

"She cleans up nice," Glinda muttered out of the side of her mouth. Elphaba only elbowed her as they drew within easy speaking distance.

"Elphaba, I need you to swear to me," she said in a tight voice, chest heaving with the force of her every breath. "You are the only powerful witch I know of in this entire kingdom. I know you did this, I know it! But… if you swear on our mother's grave that you did not, I may consider that something else happened."

"I swear on both Mother and Father's graves," she told her solemnly, handing the broom to Glinda so she could stride forward and take her sister's hands. But Nessa drew them away. Elphaba sighed and said, "Nessa… I'm sorry. I'm sorry about Father and about Boq, but I did not do those things myself. The latter was an accident — I was trying to help!"

"And what about Father? You drove him to an early grave! How could you betray Oz this way? I don't care about your reasons, about Animals or- or whatever! You turned your back on Munchkinland, and the Wizard!"

Her voice was hard as she hissed, "He gave me no choice. I tried to meet with him, to smooth things over and give him a second chance, and… and he has only proven to me that he is not fit to lead the Land of Oz. Too weak to stand up for what's right, too…" She shook her head. "I don't know what we should do, but I have to do something! If I just stood by and let him use the Animals' freedom to distract us from the real problems in his people's lives, then I wouldn't be able to live with myself!"

The more Elphaba went on, the more uncertain Nessarose seemed to be. But then she waved a hand to the side. "Enough! I… I don't believe you. There's no proof of any of what you say, and until there is, it's just… just noise!"

Elphaba wound up to speak again, clearly incensed, but Glinda cut across her, "But we really didn't cause that storm! In fact, it almost knocked us out of the sky, clear on the other side of Oz! Do… did you see anything? If it happened here, what did you see? Anything at all!"

"Nothing. Just the cyclone coming from the South. I… well, I've never seen anything like it! And there seemed to be something in the eye, but no one could tell what it was until it fell on…"

Something was too silent in the way Nessa cut herself off. Her lovely eyes were wide and fearful as she glanced between the two others, as if she knew to continue would be to bring doom upon herself.

"On what?" Elphaba whispered. "Or who?"

"Whom," Glinda corrected. Both Nessa and Elphaba slapped one of her arms apiece, and she stepped back, rubbing them with a pout on her lips.

"Come on, Nessa. Tell us."

After more hesitation, she glanced over at the house, then back at them again. "Do you… remember that boy, Fiyero? The one who was at the Ozdust Ballroom wi-"

Neither of them let her finish. Both witches raced toward the drab, dilapidated house with all the speed they could summon, cloaks billowing out behind them.

"Can you see anything?!" Glinda shouted a few minutes later when they had circuited the house.

"Only from here!" Elphaba announced from the front. Glinda circled around to join her, where they both crouched down. "Can you see? There, through this gap!"

"No! Move over!" Given the new perspective, Glinda squinted through the crack, raising the small wand she had once been given by Morrible and lighting the tip with one of the paltry few enchantments she had memorised. "Oh, look there, around the center! I see something!"

Sitting back a few seconds later, they exchanged a worried glance. The house was not flush with the ground everywhere, but there was little chance he had come through the ordeal unscathed. Most likely, he was already dead and cold.

"We can't be too late," Elphaba breathed, beginning to tremble. "I… I refuse to believe it!"

Laying a hand on her arm, even as her own eyes streamed, she whispered, "I… I don't want to turn him into Biq, but… but if there's anything we could do… shouldn't we try?"

They should. And they would.

"What are you doing?" Nessa demanded as they knelt a few paces away from the front of the structure, withdrawing the Grimmerie and leafing through it. "Not this again! You can't be serious!"

"You have no idea how serious," Elphaba snapped. "If there's even the slightest chance…"

"But it's madness! You know what happened to my Boq, so what- how could you ever consider doing such an awful thing to anyone else?!"

As Elphaba continued to flip pages, Glinda screamed up at her, "I love him! So if you don't mind, you can shut your twigging mouth, you… you dictatorly traitor!"

"This one!" Elphaba cried out, slapping her hand between the pages. Glinda leaned over her, a dubious expression in place. "What? What's the matter?"

"Isn't that the one you tried to use to make our straw-stuffed mattress softer?"

"No! No, I don't think so…" She peered down at the page, then glared up at Glinda. "This isn't the time to second-guess me! It's the best spell I have!"

"Then I'll cast another one," Glinda said as she leafed through the back of the book, ignoring the outraged cry from her companion. "If we both concentrate, and don't get distracted by the other person's spell, then it should be fine! We've both cast spells at once before!"

By this time, Nessa was flapping around near their shoulders, whispering, "Are you sure any of this is wise? Maybe we should just… let him be…" Hearing how that sounded, she added, "Because of what we did to Boq. I know, I've seen how important he was to both of you, so… do you really want to wish the same fate on him?"

Glinda felt a pinprick of curiosity at that line. They both loved Fiyero. She had suspected, given a few of the glances they exchanged, turns their conversations took over the years — but had told herself it was ridiculous. Fiyero had never expressed any true interest in Elphaba, other than his farewell the day they left for the Emerald City. And anytime she lamented losing him, being apart from him, Elphaba had said nothing. Only let her prattle onward like a child.

What would have happened if they did not have to run from the Wizard's armies? Would they have fought over Fiyero? Lost their friendship because they both desired him? She couldn't imagine it now. Yes, it was possible, but she simply did not think she had the stomach to fight with Elphaba about something that seemed so… petty.

And she couldn't focus on that. Stopping her thoughts in their tracks as she landed upon a page, she whispered, "I have mine; it's a protection spell, but I think if I modify it… say an 'ah' instead of an 'ey'?"

"Yes, we'll have to do what we can. There's no time." Holding the middle sheaf of pages exactly vertical, they both tilted their heads so they could read the script of their respective spells. "Nessa, do you mind?"

"Do I mind what? Oh." Stepping between them on her still-unsteady legs, Nessa grasped the middle pages, trying to hold her fingers out of the way of any words. "This is insane…"

"Good. Thank you." Clearing her throat, Elphaba began to chant, "Eleka nahmen nahmen, atum atum, eleka nahmen…"

But Glinda had to block that out, and fast. If she let herself get rattled or distracted by the other incantation, it would only muddle her own, so she set to work immediately, speaking the words and swirling her hands to help pull in the mystical energies of spellwork. Line after line flew from her lips as she read aloud, until she was completely lost to time.

Finally, she let her spell loose. An instant before, she had more sensed than actually saw Elphaba's hands fly forward to do the same; the light was so subtle that she was sure most non-witch residents of Oz would see nothing at all — only the results, which would not be visible due to flying under the house.

That was the intention.

Something obstructed Glinda's spell from reaching Fiyero where he lay. Two somethings: dusty brown shoes, adorned with a buckle but otherwise very plain. Her eyes screwed up, puzzled as she stared at the twinkling light of her magic befalling them. What were those doing in the middle of the road?

Then she realised the shoes had not been abandoned. So narrow had her focus been on casting her spell that she hadn't even looked further upward until the magic began to fade, settling into its new home. Up the dingy white socks, the rolled-up cuffs of blue material that seemed to be pants — except it stretched up over a middle and a chest, even hooking over two shoulders by way of straps. Only by the time she saw rosy cheeks, a gaping mouth, and brown braids did Glinda finally realise…

This was another person. Quite a tall person for the average Munchkin, and dressed in such strange garments! But there the stranger stood, all the same, open-mouthed and completely shocked by the sight of witches doing their witchly business.

"What…" Glinda cleared her throat, fingers finally beginning to curl away from the Grimmerie. "Who- I mean, where did you come from?"

Nessa dropped the pages as she drew back, as surprised as her former classmate. Elphaba, however, had scarcely taken her eyes off the eaves underneath the house; she was willing Fiyero to present himself, for anything to take place. Inwardly, so was Glinda, but she was also worried about what she might have done to an innocent bystander with her spell.

"G-Goodness me!" the person squeaked — a woman, if the voice were any indication. She hadn't been sure, what with how she looked. "Y-you talk! You queer little folk can talk!"

"Of course we can!" Nessa burst out, more startled into responding than meaning to have said anything. "Y-you… how did you do that?"

Still heavily distracted by her surroundings, the strange girl breathed, "Do what?"

"Make a house fly! I've… not even our great and terrible Wizard can do something like that!"

"A housefly? I- w-well, you don't 'make' houseflies, th-they come on their own! Of course, Uncle Henry's always sayin' that I don't help any, on account of I leave the butter dish out, a-and then they come 'round because they can't resist Aunt Em's butter, s-so… maybe I do make houseflies, after all, and if that's gonna be a problem, then I'm awful sorry! But the butter dish is closed up right now, so they shouldn't come, should they?"

No one responded. Not a single Munchkinlander did more than cough.

"Do… you mean to say that you can lift an entire building… with only the use of a butter dish?" Glinda finally asked dubiously, trying not to sound too disbelieving.

"What?!" she squeaked, a hand flying to her bowlike mouth. "Oh, no, no, no! I can't lift a whole house! Goodness, I'm only a little thing, aren't I? Ain't heard of anyone liftin' anything like a house all on their lonesome! Not without a pulley! A-and I haven't got a pulley! There's one in the barn, but the barn is…" Her hand swept to one side, but a second later it fell as she gaped at the rolling fields of blue maize, the swaying of the Fighting Trees. "Is… not here. Or I'm not there. Am I? M-maybe I'm not even in Kansas anymore…"

Nessa reached down to help Glinda up, and she gratefully took the hand. Privately, she worried about unbalancing the new-to-walking woman, but things turned out alright. Then she straightened her cloak and asked, "Dear thing, what's your name?"

"My name? Dorothy. Dorothy Gale, if you please." She reached out to the sides as if to curtsy, then seemed to start when she grasped only at the sides of pantlegs. Dipping her head shamefacedly, she announced, "I… I'm so underdressed, I… you all look so lovely, and I'd b-been out working with Uncle Henry before the storm! What a state to be in when I meet new people!"

"A pleasure to meet you," Glinda said, curtsying and managing it just fine. "My name is Glinda Upland, of the Upperuplands. This is Nessarose Thropp, the Eminent."

"How do you do?" Nessa greeted her with a wooden bow, as if not quite sure she ought to be bowing. Really, everyone was shocked; it was only Glinda's breeding that allowed her innate sense of decorum to override her complete surprise.

"I do well! Oh, it's nice to meet you both!" For the first time, the girl chanced a hesitant smile as she turned to where Elphaba still crouched over the book. "And… and who might you be?"

After a moment, Elphaba glanced up at her. Her expression was slacken, empty, and Glinda felt her heart seize to see her that way. "It didn't work."

"What?"

"The spell. It didn't work, he… he isn't…" Then everything about her changed. Boiling to her feet, she bellowed directly at the girl, "What have you DONE?!"

Dorothy shrank back from the shout, all of her budding good humour replaced with fright. "Done? Wh-why, I haven't done anything at all, I p-promise!"

"This is your house, isn't it?" No answer. She took a step forward, hands curling into fists as she bore down on the girl who was just scarcely shorter than herself. "Answer me, you fool!"

"Y-yes! It's my home, I- what is it, what's wrong?"

"You MURDERER!"

Elphaba's hands had just barely begun to swirl, to conjure a spell of some sort, when Glinda dashed forward and tugged the arms down. "Elphie, stop!"

"NO! Let me go, let me go this instant! She can't be allowed to get away with this, I won't-"

"I don't understand!" Dorothy was wailing, backpedaling toward her house and tripping over a crack in the bricks, so that she sat down hard in the grass between road and house. "AH! What- oww!"

At the same moment, a small black creature came pelting out of the house, as well. It yipped and barked at Elphaba, and Glinda didn't quite know what to make of it. It seemed like some sort of cross between a dog and a cat, but it was unlike any creature she had ever seen.

"She'll be shredded to pieces," Elphaba was growling, straining against Glinda's grip. Nessa merely stood nearby, indecisive but eyes wild at the scene playing out. "Crucified and whipped until — no, that isn't fitting at all. I'll just have to drop this godforsaken house on her!"

Gritting her teeth, Glinda tried to turn her around to face her, but it was slow going, and the barking from the odd little thing was distracting. Once she managed it, through a lot of grunting and straining, she snapped, "FABALA!" That got her focus, alright. "You can't do this to her! You are not a perpetrator of murderosity, and I won't let you act like you are!"

"It was Fiyero!" she snapped directly into her face. Glinda couldn't suppress a wince. "How can you not be upset? Don't you care? I thought you loved him!"

"I did!" Tears were on her cheeks already, and she hadn't the slightest clue when they got there. "And I do! But… but if he has gone… oh, Elphie, what's it going to change to take revenge on this poor young one?"

The words began to sink in. She knew they did; the way Elphaba's eyes turned down and to one side showed her as much. Given more opportunity, she could have talked some sense into her companion.

However, they never got a chance to sink in any further. At that moment, there came a great BOOM! that filled the area, startling the Pike Guild and all the Munchkinlanders further back.

"AHHH!" Dorothy screamed out, covering her head with both arms and pressing herself back against the steps as the small dog-cat ran to her, nosing at her arms.

Rising up from the billowing smoke in the middle of the road was a sight that sent chills down Glinda's spine. High, forbidding white hair, pinched, fishlike pale features, and a billowing dress that disguised an equally-billowing figure.

"You," Glinda breathed, a hand going to her mouth.

"How dare you attack this poor girl!" she announced, raising an arm to level a crooked finger and a pointed, painted nail at the two witches. "Haven't you evil witches caused enough harm to Oz?!"

"Here's someone I can drop a house on," Elphaba growled, eyes narrowing to slits. "Madame Morrible… I might have known. I might have known it was you!"

But the moment she took a step toward the vile press secretary, she snapped, "Guards!" And the guards fell into line between them. The armoured and polearm-wielding Munchkins, looking quite uncomfortable but resolute, aimed the weapons in their direction.

"Wait," Nessa said in disbelief, taking a step out from behind her sister. "What are you doing? I haven't given an order — and I order you to stand down!" Nothing happened. "I demand you step aside until I call upon you!"

"They aren't yours to push around anymore," Morrible chuckled darkly, with a wolfish look that only they three would ever see. Dorothy was cowering by the house, the guards facing the wrong way, and all the citizens of Nest Hardings too far away to see anything clearly. "Several months ago, I learned of the coup they were planning against the Wicked Witch of the East, and decided to bide my time. Why dirty my own hands when it's not strictly necessary?"

"Wicked… Witch of the- who is…" But it began to dawn on the poor paraplegic. Her eyes swept to Elphaba, then back to her traitorous troops, none of whom met her glance with even a hint of sympathy. She breathed, aghast, "Me? You think me a witch?"

All Morrible said in response to that was, "Blood will out." Then to Elphaba, she snapped, "I suggest you leave this place, before I am forced to attack you forthwithly! The Wizard is still most displeased you could not see his generosity for what it was, and you've caused enough trouble for too long!"

"Not half as much trouble as I-" But the tugging at Elphaba's arm told her Glinda did not agree, so she turned to hiss, "What?!"

"Let's go. They're all stacked against us, we… we can't stay." Her longing eyes flicked to the house again, but she only sighed before saying, "Please, Elphie? Let's just… fall back and figure out what to do without all these stabby things pointed at us!"

The green nostrils flared. Then she hissed, "No good deed goes unpunished. I spared the brat, and all of Munchkinland is still against me, are they?"

"No! They just… don't know what to believe right now! Please don't-"

"FINE." Picking up their broom, she mounted it immediately and glared across at their adversary, who looked like a cat with a mouthful of bird feathers. "This is not the last of me, you tyrant! May you and all who serve you meet the ghastliest of ends!"

"That's my line," Glinda hissed. "I'm the Ghastly one!"

As she swung on behind Elphaba, Morrible called out, "So be it! Retreat like the cowards you are!"

Glinda could tell this was as important to Morrible as the confrontation itself: building herself up as their saviour in the eyes of the Munchkins, even though she had scarcely done a thing other than exist. It was all showmanship. She and the Wizard really were a match made somewhere unpleasant. Still, she couldn't spare her the brainpower. Turning to Nessa, she asked, "Are you coming?"

"NO! What makes you think I'd ever-" The points of the spears raised toward her when she tried to take a step toward the Pike Guild, and she turned back to the two of them, face paling and eyes downcast. "Well… as long as you're offering…"

"Mark my words!" Morrible was calling out at their backs as the three so-called witches took off into the Western sky, leaving behind a potential new friend, and the remains of an old one. "You will come to rue the day you ever crossed wands with a real witch, you… you pretenders! You charlatanous charlatans! Stay gone, if you know what's good for you!"

                                     To Be Continued…

[distinctivelibrarians]

benjaminrussell replied to your post “I wanna write fluff today. But I am drawing a massive blank.”

Ot3 birthday fluff!

@benjaminrussell I’m sorry this took so long! But, hope you like it! ^^

Three birthday firsts.

(Or, Eliot, Hardison, and Parker never really celebrated their birthdays with the team. Time to change that.)

(ao3)

No place around here sold salted dark chocolate cupcakes. Eliot would know. Not even necessarily because he was looking for himself - but Parker and Hardison had dragged him to every bakery in the area within the last couple of months for one reason or another. And while he’d been trying to keep them from buying everything, he might’ve kept an eye out.

(Eliot didn’t like straight sweets - anything that could be compared to straight sugar just didn’t taste good. Just looking at some of the sweets Parker and Hardison could inhale made his teeth hurt sometimes. )

Which means he knew no place sold them. Which doesn’t explain why there’s one sitting on the counter when he shuffles out to the kitchen that morning.

There’s literally two people in the world that can wrap their arms around him from behind without him panicking. And a good part of that is because there’s no pulling involved - big hands rest on his shoulders, long enough for him to tense for a breath before melting back into the other man, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

It’s taken so long for them to get to this point - this comfortable, easy touching. Hardison had spent so long not wanting to invade Eliot’s space too often - not knowing whether he’d be allowed or whether any touching was welcome and not having Parker’s sense of ‘fuck it’ -  and Eliot had taken just as long to get comfortable with having multiple people in his space consistently. They were still working on it, still pushing and pulling and figuring out where they fit together; Eliot still had a hard time asking for touch, Hardison still had trouble figuring out when it was welcome. But, they were working on it, and when it clicked, like now, with Eliot leaning most of his weight back into Hardison’s chest, and Hardison more than willing to hold him up, both of them just took and enjoyed it for what it was

“Take it this was your idea?” he grumbles, if only to hide a small, goofy smile as a couple things start connecting.

“Depends, it going over well?” Hardison shot back, voice rough. He must’ve just rolled out of bed then - probably woken up by Eliot getting up.

“It’s getting there.” Eliot mutters, before tilting his head. “...Is this at all related to why Parker exploded chili flakes and onions in the brewpub’s ovens last week?” There was a slight flinch behind him, and he’s pretty sure Hardison would’ve pulled away if he hadn’t reached up to catch his wrist, swiping his thumb over the bone until Hardison relaxed again.

“...it might’ve had something to do with it. We kinda… burnt the first batch. And burnt chocolate stinks. So she might’ve found something that smells worse to hide it.” And that would, logically work. He hadn’t been able to smell anything except chili and burnt onions in there for three days. “Amy helped us with the last one.” Which would explain why there hadn’t been another onion incident then.

Eliot hummed, hand tightening slightly on Hardison’s wrist, trying to figure out what to say.

“We didn’t have a big party or nothing planned. You never said anything so we figured… something small, if at all, right? Cupcake can be it, if you want - and we’ve got a full batch if they end up being not terrible. But Parker was talking about-”

“Just hanging out here for the day. We loaded up on popcorn, delivery from that Italian place you like is already set. Amy’s got the brewpub covered if you want to stay.” Speak of the devil, and there she was, easily slipping into his space as well, arms looping around his waist and leaning against his chest as much as Hardison’s arms would allow. He blinked at her for a moment, then offered a small, easy grin.

“You know, think I can live with that.” He pressed a light kiss to her cheek, just to get a giggle from her before twisting back enough to brush another over Hardison’s jaw ‘cause that’s about all he could really reach with how they were sandwiching him in.

“Happy birthday, E.” Hardison murmured. Eliot would be the last person to admit to something warm and squishy and entirely ridiculous lighting up in his chest, but what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them - even though, judging by the big grins they shared over his shoulder, he’s pretty sure they knew exactly what was going on.

(The cupcake ended up being a little burnt, but he couldn’t even care.)

There was a box on the bar counter in the kitchen. It had been there since this morning - though when it popped up, Parker couldn’t be sure. She’d gone for a morning run - Eliot could take his “they’re not runs if you don’t touch the ground Parker!” and toss it, honestly - and by the time she’d come back, both her boys were out and about with their day, both at the brewpub, she’s pretty sure. And the box had been there.

It was a regular box, as far as these things went. Cardboard, small enough to fit in her hand. There wasn’t any ticking, squeaking, rustling, or beeping. Hardison’s security system on the apartment meant that, mostly likely, one of the boys put it there - the system was just updated last week after all. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what it would be. As far as she knew, they hadn’t ordered anything recently, that hadn’t already been delivered anyway.

It could’ve been nothing. Probably was nothing.

But it was also nothing in her space with absolutely no warning and she wanted to know what it was. Eliot hadn’t said anything about a box, which meant he probably wouldn’t care if she opened it, right? And Hardison was good about putting things away that he didn’t want the two of them touching - Oh.

There was also a paper under the box that she hadn’t noticed. Whoops.

It was a simple little note - if it could be called that. All that was on it was a sketchy picture of a cake with candles and a smiley face. It kind of cleared things up. A little.

But presents were supposed to be wrapped in shiny things, right? And even if they didn’t do presents - they didn’t for Eliot, figuring (correctly, he’d told them later) that he wouldn’t really know what to do with them - you still had family around.

When she’d mentioned, a couple weeks ago, when her birthday was going to be, she’d been lowkey looking forward to what the boys would do - if they would do anything. She knew they weren’t obligated to - but she’d been. Kind of hoping?

The little box and drawing was all there was though. They hadn’t even been awake when she’d left that morning, both of them staying wrapped up in the blankets and protesting, still asleep, the cold chill that leaked through the window when she opened it. She’d been half tempted to forget the run that morning and crawl back between them - and she knew they would’ve let her, rolling back over to sandwich her between them the way she liked best. (How long had that taken? For them to be that comfortable in the same bed - for Eliot not to flinch and shoot awake at the slightest movement, for Hardison not to tense and curl up when one of them pulled away. She didn’t know. But she liked their general evolution towards lazy dog piling so much better.)

Maybe what was in the box was good though? But still, she’d rather they be here…

Her phone chirped, from where she’d left it on the couch. She eyed the box for a long moment more, nose scrunching up, before going to check it. One message from Eliot.

Stop glaring at the box and just open it Parker. Then get over here.

Well, that was weird. But, she did what he said, warily flipping the lid off the box. What was inside just confused her more though, until she took a closer look. Then, then she was shoving the slips of paper from the box in her pocket, grabbing the jacket Eliot insisted she wear when there was snow out on the ground, and bolting out the door.

She made it to the brewpub in five minutes flat - throwing open the doors in a flurry of snow and wind and light. There was half a second delay before the shout of “Surprise!” happened, but she was already beaming and diving for Sophie at the front of the small crowd with a shout.

Nate and Sophie were home , the ticket stubs from their flight tucked in her pocket. It was them, everyone from the brewpub  (including a few of their regulars) Peggy, Quinn, Mikel, Archie, Josie… everyone smiling and telling her “Happy Birthday” and the only people missing were Hardison and Eliot - nevermind.

Eliot was pushing his way out of the kitchen, cake in hand with five candles, Hardison right behind him holding a big box, wrapped in bright, shiny paper.

The soft smiles they gave her while watching her flit between people she hadn’t seen in months though, and the big, full body bear hugs she got when she finally made her way over them? Almost better than the cake and the shiny present.

(Almost.)

Hardison wondered if he should tell the two of them, at some point, that they hadn’t been able to lie to him in at least two years now. But, that would be giving away literally his only advantage, so, he kept his mouth shut when Eliot and Parker started acting weird exactly a week before his birthday. It wasn’t too hard to act like he didn’t notice anything, and maybe it was cheating. But, he was curious, so sue him. (Or, try anyway. Good luck.)

If he was being honest, it didn’t really matter to him what they ended up doing for his birthday. This would be the first time in years that it wasn’t just his Nana and the occasional friend sending him well wishes and maybe a small care package, and honestly, the fact that two people (his two people) were trying to be sneaky about something for him? He could wake up that day and get a kiss and a “happy birthday” and he’d be genuinely ecstatic and probably on cloud 9 for the rest of the day.

He was easy to please, sometimes, honestly.

The morning of - he’s not sure what he expected. But, it frankly, didn’t matter, because he woke up in his favorite spot - wrapped around Eliot as the big spoon, with Parker draped half over him, both still soundly asleep. It might’ve been his favorite because it happened so rarely - more often than not, at least one of them would be long gone by the time the other two woke up, and if he was being honest, he woke up to an empty bed more often than he cared to admit (though, even though he’d never said anything about it, he had noticed the two of them coming back to bed more and more often. It was enough to make him feel light and floaty, just thinking about it). It wasn’t his fault that the two loves of his life were morning people, and that he was decidedly not.  And it wasn't their fault  that both of them had issues with space that sometimes popped up, and that he was a tactile guy. They were all working on it - actively, consciously working on it, and in just the year since they'd officially gotten together, he was so proud of all of them in how far they'd come.

More importantly though, right now? He was warm, had an armful of grumpy hitter and had the grounding weight of Parker draped over his side and as far as he was concerned, this was the best way to start the day.

He even got his kiss and “Happy Birthday,” from both of them, when they woke up - Eliot’s a warm, honey-sweet kiss that took his breath away, hands framing his jaw and holding him close like he was special and safe and he’d never get tired of that, Parker’s a lightning quick spark of a peck that was fierce and sharp, hauling him in with hands in his shirt, and woke him up just fine, thank you.

The day honestly just got better from there. The entire morning stayed muzzy, mellow, and soft in the best way. The kitchen filled up quick with soft chattering and light-hearted bickering while Eliot made thick, chocolate and strawberry filled pancakes (Hardison’s favorite, despite Eliot’s Strong Opinions about anything but fruit in pancakes), and Hardison and Parker nursed coffee sweet enough to be caramel colored.

The morning melted into the afternoon, bright and lazy, while Eliot and Parker did their best to learn how to at least have a chance against him with his collection of video games. He had to give it to them - they played fair for far longer than he thought they would. But, eventually, he had to fend off not only Parker with her controller - she may not quite get the mechanics of everything, but she was quick and learned faster than people gave her credit for - while Eliot did his best to insinuate himself in his space and get his attention.

He threw up his hands in defeat about the same time Eliot straight up dropped in his lap with a smirk. Considering Parker was pressed up against his side about two seconds later, he couldn’t even feel too bad about losing spectacularly.

The doorbell ringing, just as the light outside started to burn dark and warm, threw him off, he’d admit. And the fact that both Eliot and Parker just seemed way too pleased with themselves probably should’ve been a warning. But, they shooed him off to answer it, so he figured it couldn’t be too bad.

He threw open the door, half expecting - ...well, no, he had nothing and it didn’t matter anyway, because what he got was an older woman with steel-colored curls, thin gold glasses highlighting deep laugh lines, and a bright yellow dress that reminded him of home and summer and - “Nana!” He was swept up in deceptively strong arms for a bear hug, and he couldn’t even be embarrassed about the squeak.

He’d been planning on introducing everyone this Thanksgiving - having finally gotten a call from Nana that it was both about time he brought his guy and girl home so she could meet them and that he couldn’t miss another Thanksgiving and expect her not to fly to wherever he was and haul him back anyway.

Before he could even ask what was going on because he knew they’d been up to something, but this hadn’t even crossed his mind, Eliot was on one side, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “You get her settled, I’ll get started on dinner alright?” He turned a charming grin Nana’s way, “And nice to finally meet you, ma’am.” And off he went before Hardison could get a word in edgewise.

“Hardison’s talked a lot about you!” Parker chirped, popping up at his other side. Nana blinked between the two of them - Parker’s grin and Eliot’s retreating back - before turning a sly smile on Hardison, eyes sparking with warm, bright humor that Hardison hadn’t seen in far too long.

“And I’ve heard all about you, dear.” She leaned in to give Hardison another hug that made him feel small and warm, a whispered, “Happy Birthday, Alec,” in his ear before she released him.“Now, show me around! I want to see what my boy’s been up to in the years since he came to see his dear old Nana,” she couldn’t say it with a straight face, didn’t even try.

Showing Nana around the apartment, and the layout and pictures of the brewpub - with a promise to take her there tomorrow - was a surreal experience. She’d apparently taken to Parker like a house on fire, chattering and laughing over who knows what when Hardison wasn’t looking. But, them laughing in his home, with the sounds of Eliot cooking in the background? It was honestly the best thing he’d ever heard.

And no, he didn’t sniffle after dinner when gifts came out. Nor was there a tear when the three of them piled on the couch to watch his favorite movies, Nana in the arm chair watching them with a soft smile. There wasn’t alright. Just something in his eye.

(There might have been a happy tear shed the next morning, when Hardison woke up, alone, but warm, and wandered out to the kitchen to see Nana perched at the bar, chattering with Parker while Eliot made breakfast. Maybe.)