#part of me still expected some gleeful hate posts today

[bluespring864]

can i just say i'm very grateful to my little corner of tennisblr for making me feel less miserable instead of more miserable today <3

[bakugohoex]

if it's available, could you do the nsfw prompt #6 with hitoshi shinso please?

“one more word out of you and i’ll leave you tied up with no release”

pairing: hitoshi shinso x female reader

cw: aged up, nsfw (implicit male receiving handjob, implicit semi public, praise, dumbification, degradation, over stimulation, nipple play, spit play, finger sucking, female receiving fingering, thigh biting, sir kink and bondage)

word count: ​1200+

a/n: bruh how am i back to becoming a smut blog again, tbh im glad i have a variety for all types of writing

summary: in which after teasing shinso all day he can’t wait to get his revenge by overstimulating you until your crying, begging to cum

1k event masterlist

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

“Stop fucking crying.” His long fingers continued to pump into your cunt, as his thumb rested across your clit, moving circles around the sensitive skin. “This is what you get after teasing me all day.”

Shinso hated to admit it but you had got under his skin today, breakfast had been hard enough with how you had waltzed in with nothing but his shirt. Then you had walked around the apartment looking for your clothes in your lingerie. He could tolerate it, he tried to tolerate it but when dinner arrived and you both had left to meet with some friends. 

He hadn’t expected the purple dress to turn him on as much as it had, the low cut, with your cleavage spilling out and the way you fitted perfectly in it. You were gorgeous, but before he could even tell you that, you had conveniently let your fingers trail across his thigh getting eerily closer to his cock. 

Shinso had heard you speak but his quirk was no use when you were under his gaze. He was almost glad the table had a cloth covering going to the floor. The undoing of the zip had almost been unheard and the torture Shinso had gone through having to surpress his moans as you lazily let your hand wrap around his softness, feeling it harden under your fingers.

“Plea...please bab…” You could barely even speak, Shinso had pushed you into the bedroom as soon as you both got home and now hear he was. 

Sleeves rolled with his tired eyes looking lazily at you. He had bounded your hands with his capturing scarf, your wrists already looking sore as you laid sprawled out for him. “You think you can just go around doing shit like that, this is a fucking lesson, okay?” He paused waiting for you to answer, but you didn’t squeal under his gaze. He pressed his cock through his jeans onto your clit as he stayed on top grabbing your jaw with one hand. “Do I make myself clear Y/n.”

You hated when he used your name, it felt patronising and small under his gaze. “Yes, sir.” You whispered trying to suppress a moan at how he grinded against your slick filled clit. 

His eyes glued to your own as he dropped your jaw back onto the bed. He doesn’t say a word instead moving away from your clit, he knew he was hard and knew he wanted to fuck you. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so without enacting revenge. His eyes stayed on you before he inserted two fingers in your cunt, he felt slick wrap around his fingers, a heavy moan coming from your mouth. 

“Ple...please more.” You begged arching your back to try and push his fingers deeper inside of you. He hasn't even begun moving his fingers and you already felt yourself wanting to cum for him. 

“One more word out of you and I'll leave you tied up with no release.” He was being serious, the way he had looked up from your cunt, your heavy chest as your naked body laid sprawled for him. He would leave you tied up, unable to finish the job that he had been doing for the past ten minutes.

You had thought that he’d have let you cum, but this was the second time his fingers were back in you, and the first you hadn’t gotten the chance to have a release. “I’ll be good.” You mewled out, he looked at you debating if he should agree. 

He pushed his fingers further into you as you gave a hefty groan. His  eyes widened at how easy you were to pleasure before he moved his fingers out, just as he was about to re-enter, a third finger began stretching you. His movement from there on had become quicker and with a much hastier face, he kissed along your waist, as he continued to move back and forth. Your moans feeling like music to his ears, he could never understand how men didn’t just look at you and fall in love.

He had, he had seen those sharp eyes with the gleeful smirk, the laugh that had made his knees weak. He didn’t understand how the world wasn't on their knees for you like he was, he saw paradise and utopia when he looked at you. 

Even if he had so much love for you, he needed to teach you a lesson, needed to show you that he was in charge. “Come on, scream louder, you know you want to whore.” He continued to pump his fingers in and out, each time reaching further and further inside. 

His other had been gripping your thighs but had moved towards your chest, the way your nipples had hardened so easily. His saliva ridden fingers which he had licked previously now coating your body and nipples felt like heaven. Each hand’s actions make your legs twitch at each movement, “let me cum.” You almost screamed out but suppressed it with a moan instead. 

“No.” He chuckled it out sadistically, he could see how your legs felt heavier, a coil in your stomach ready to release. His hands moved much quicker now, he refused to let you cum, he wanted you to go into sensory overload. His mouth had moved to your thighs, biting and sucking on the sensitive skin. He didn’t know what had gotten into him but hearing your loud pleas to cum made him go mad.

His thumb ran circles on your clit as he continued to pump harder until he felt the back of your cunt, almost knowing that if he went any further his knuckles would start touching your cunt. He looked up from your thighs, purple bruises forming as he listened to your words, “Tosh...pl…” You had become a dumb mess unable to speak, droll coming from your mouth as your eyes rolled back.

Your wrists looked even sorer, but the sadistic side in him wanted more. He gripped your nipple tightly with his left hand, flicking it in between his fingers before pinching at the hard spot. You gave a loud moan before knowing you couldn’t take anymore, his fingers pumped even further, knuckles touching your clit before he looked at you. “Cum on my fingers, my stupid pretty girl, go on.”

His words made you unravel in a matter of seconds, cum gushing out onto his fingers. He moved his fingers out, cum sitting across his three fingers. He stuffed it in your mouth as you babbled nonsense before untying the capture weapon. He chucked it to the side, feeling you suck and move your tongue against his fingers as if you were sucking his cock. 

He moved up to your face making you look right into his eyes; you had a dazed expression which he loved so much. He grabbed your face with his other hand, saliva dripping from your mouth a string of spit moved from his fingers to your mouth. He sucked his finger clean off you before meeting your eyes. “Now are you going to take my cock like a good girl, or do I have to punish you again?” 

He watched your eyes, how you looked at him with lust, your mouth peppering kisses down his neck. He still needed an answer, he wanted to hear you say it and as much as you loved teasing him. You said the words he had wanted to hear, “I'll be your good girl, sir.”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[fuzzyporcupine]

lead me with your hands tied | chapter 7

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

rating: explicit

word count: 15,443

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 7:

Eren entered the studio with more than enough time to spare. Not in any way dressed for a portrait, but on time nonetheless. Thankfully, Levi only needed to accomplish a sketch today. The attire could be forgiven for now.

Eren leaned against the doorframe, a tight golden waistcoat highlighting the man’s frame.

“I see your illness has faded, Your Highness.” Levi continued to clear his workstation as the prince sighed dramatically.

“As you commanded, artist.” Levi’s fingers stilled over the brushes. He thought about the venom he’d spewed at the prince in the bedroom. Thought about how angry he had been as he marched out of the room. The guards hadn’t paid him any mind as he shuffled back to the studio with tight fists and a furrowed brow, well-warned by Petra. The time alone had allowed him to decompress, to curb his thinking from wrapping his hands around the prince’s neck to that of a brush instead.

“Quite,” Levi muttered, returning to shuffling through his supplies. The sound of advancing footsteps bounced off the stone as Eren approached him from behind. He felt a headache beginning to swell deep beneath his eyes. One that would surely only add fuel to this infuriating fire. Bringing thin fingers between his brow, Levi pressed gently against the soft skin. Usually, he could simply will the pain away. Could push the ache into the dark abscesses of his mind to be reignited on another day. However, now with Eren’s gaze demanding attention, he was finding it hard to ignore the subtle throbbing.

“Are you alright?” The prince’s breath fluttered delicately over the back of his neck, twisting heat around the bones of his spine. And he hated it, almost as much as he despised the goddamn royal family. Hated the way Eren was able to pick and probe these reactions out of him as if he were some young girl vying to lose her maidenhead. It was unequivocally, irrevocably insane. To be nearing his thirtieth year and still acting like a young boy going through puberty. Levi could curse himself - curse the dreadful prince, as well.

He turned around slowly, cautious of the ever-growing pounding ricocheting inside of his skull. Levi expected to see a smug grin, a look of enjoyment over his suffering. He figured that Eren would be all the more pleased to find that his own drunken aliment had seemingly shifted its host over to Levi. The irony was indeed thick, Levi supposed. However, instead of a gleeful smirk and self-righteous glare, Levi found a wrinkled brow. Eyes that were normally so wide and full of pride were now narrowed and searching, darting quickly across Levi’s face. Thin lips pressed tight as Levi’s fingers dropped to fiddle with the sleeve of his linen shirt.

“It’s just a headache,” he mumbled wearily, watching the way Eren’s brows pulled a little tighter. “I’m fine.” There was a short pause, and then the prince was nodding, feet shuffling backward against the hard grey stone. The whole scene was baffling. More so than when Eren stormed into the dining room in nothing but nightclothes. The thought had his palms going sweaty against the white fabric still being fussed about between dexterous fingers.

Eren stared at him, looking one half bewildered and the other half perturbed. Finally, the man cleared his throat. “Petra knows a great remedy for those. Tastes like shit but does its job,” Eren laughed awkwardly. The sound had his toes curling uncomfortably in his boots. The prince looked away then, sparkling eyes roving over the blank open canvas. “Where do you want me?”

“The fireplace,” he said without hesitation. Levi remembered how the location had called so loudly to him. The elegant lines, the stone etched to perfection. His only hope would be that the backdrop would not upstage the prince himself. It would be a far cry, though, as loathe as Levi was to admit it.

Eren was a handsome man, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. Thick dark brows hovering over fierce wide eyes that almost verged on too large. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses.

The aching in his skull had thankfully drizzled off into a manageable thud by the time Eren found a spot in front of the fireplace. The man hovered there, hands gracelessly hanging off to the side. It was slightly satisfying to see Eren looking so out of place especially after being so often on the receiving end of the prince’s brash humor.

“I believe that I’m at a bit of a loss here, artist,” Eren admitted, sagging broad shoulders with a heavy sigh.

Levi looked boredly over the edge of the canvas. “Haven’t you done this before?” Eren bristled marginally at that, and Levi had to fight back a devilish grin.

“When I was twelve!” The prince’s voice cracked hilariously and a fabulous flush crept up onto the man’s cheeks as Levi watched Eren sway anxiously back and forth. He took pity on the poor soul, scoffing as he placed the pencil down on the table next to the empty canvas. Standing, Levi gave Eren an assessing look, analyzing the man’s position as he stepped closer.

“Act natural.” Eren huffed crudely at the comment, spine stiffening beneath Levi’s stare. The stance was similar to a toy soldier Levi once owned as a child, wooden limbs ramrod straight at the sides. While appealing to a figurine young boys and girls could play with, the posture was thoroughly horrid for a portrait. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses, Levi reminded himself. “Now you look like you need to take a royal shit,” he chided, crossing his arms against a sturdy chest.

The blush on Eren’s cheeks deepened brilliantly. “You’re being far too vague,” the prince muttered quietly, pride effectively wounded. A small part of Levi wanted to reassure the man that the art of posing for a portrait did not come as natural as one would expect. However, a much larger part enjoyed seeing Eren’s tail tucked between his legs like a kicked dog.

“Relax your shoulders,” Levi said. Eren did as much, rolling them back into what appeared to be a much more comfortable position. “Now turn your body to the left.” He watched as Eren turned on his heels, eyes now facing the Jaeger family crest posted to the wall. Levi stepped forward. “Bring your chest towards me. For fuck’s sake, not your entire bloody body.”

Eren scowled, frustration clearly nearing the end of its rope. “This is damn near impossible.” That was a rather final word for it, Levi thought. The game had seemingly run its course, and despite his gratification over watching Eren squirm, he did not want to risk having the prince storm off in a snit like before.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” he surmised, thumb stroking the underside of a pointed chin. Confidence supporting his gait, Levi strode forward until he was within arm’s reach of the prince. “Face the wall again.” He watched the prince eye him up and down warily. “Before the sun falls, Your Highness.” Eren sighed irritably as the wide gaze was once again fashioned to the vibrant green tapestry.

“Absolutely impossible,” he heard Eren mutter quietly into the air. The breath was sucked straight back into the man’s lungs, however, when Levi wrapped tentative fingers around either side of the thin waist. Time seemed to still for a quiet moment, and the prince stiffened. The skin felt red hot beneath his touch, warmth seeping through the fabric and onto the pads of his fingertips. Could feel the way the muscles moved and flexed beneath the flesh as he twisted Eren’s upper half marginally to the right. Levi dropped the clutch, satisfied when the prince held the position without being corrected. Next, he grasped Eren’s right arm, bending it at the elbow before trailing his palm down to the man’s wrist.

“Take hold of your belt,” Levi requested.

“Rather uncouth of you to assume my innocence is so easily won, artist,” Eren jested, mouth pulling maddeningly at the corners. To hear the prince describe himself as innocent almost yanked a chuckle from his throat. Almost. Instead, he gifted the infuriating bastard with a deadly glower as he dropped his hand.

“Grab the damn belt.” With the instructions delivered, Levi turned and shuffled back over to the canvas, hoping that the grit of his teeth wasn’t too audible. The expectation that the pose would be held was minimal at best, nonexistent at worst. However, when Levi looked back over his shoulder he saw to his surprise that the stance was exactly as he’d envisioned - give or take the shit-eating grin.

Moving behind the blank linen, Levi selected a pencil from the complied lot of tools to begin the sketch. It was a soft, smooth grey. Perfect for capturing lines and easily covered with the drag of a brush. For now, he only needed to reproduce the simple shapes that would eventually be reconstructed into the prince’s form.

Hooded eyes only barely reached above the edge of the canvas, his short stature dwarfed by the coarse cloth. Levi typically didn’t work on portraits so large, and if he were capturing anyone other than the shitting smiling bastard before him, Levi might be apt to ask for a stool. As it was, he would rather face the entire Shiganshina army with only his paintbrushes as a means of defense.

He worked in relative silence, save for the scratching of the pencil across the linen. His gaze flitted quickly between the man and the canvas. Rough lines began to appear, boxy shapes symbolizing hands and shoulders.

“I beg your pardon if I’ve caused offense.” The statement caused a line to go astray. Levi swore quietly beneath his breath, rubbing away the error with the side of his hand. The prince would truly be the death of him. Perhaps literally.

To be quite honest, he was wholly surprised that Eren even had the ability to utter words that weren’t a vulgar insinuation or an infuriating quip. An apology was definitely not considered to be a part of the man’s vocabulary.

Levi's voice failed him as he tried to conjure up a worthy response. One that would likely tell Eren which unspeakable place the man could shove the pleas of forgiveness. Instead, Levi was left to hide shamefully behind the canvas as he attempted to avoid Eren’s pointed stare.

“You simply intrigue me.” Levi’s breath caught painfully in his throat. Intrigued? He had no idea how to respond to such a claim. One was intrigued by the leaves morphing colors on the trees or the way the stars glittered brightly at night. But Levi? Intriguing? He should perish the thought.

When Levi looked up, an unyielding stare immediately sought out his eyes. “I can assure you,” he finally said, voice not quite as steely as he’d hoped, “that this curiosity is misplaced.” Levi watched as the man’s posture slipped. “As is your right arm.” The prince quickly righted himself back into position.

“How self-loathing,” Eren muttered.

Levi ignored the quip, returning to the sketch. To anyone else, the scribbles would be puzzling. A scattered mess of unconnected dots and lines. However, Levi recognized the sketch for what it was - the beginning of a potential masterpiece. The majority of the prince’s outline lined the canvas. Hands, legs, arms, and torso all sketched to represent an estimated length and width. Levi had saved the face for last. It was, without question, the most crucial element of the portrait. Oftentimes, he had been asked to substitute hands that were thought to look too old or bellies that appeared to be too fat. But the face was always that of the owner’s. He gazed at Eren’s now, noticing how the intensity behind the man’s eyes had not diminished even with Levi’s blunt rebuttal. He tried to read them, to find something within the swirling depths. Though it was unclear to Levi what he was even looking for. Sarcasm? Ridicule?

Curiosity?

He scoffed softly to himself, eyes falling away from Eren’s commanding stare.

The face would have to wait until the morrow when his head was sat correctly on his shoulders. Regardless, the fireplace still needed to be outlined into the background, something that would not require Eren’s presence.

“We are finished for today, Your Highness,” Levi said, bowing slightly. The rumblings of the headache reawakening began to whistle between his ears. Unlike the others, Levi couldn’t help but feel as if this one was well-deserved. Thinking so deeply about how Eren perceived him or what the man’s intentions were would do nothing but drive him utterly mad.

The prince relaxed, falling out of the chosen position. “Thank the gods.” Levi did feel at least a modicum of sympathy for the man. Despite his chiding, Eren had remained steady for the majority of the session. It was more than he could say for most clients. “Will you require me again tomorrow?” Levi nodded, pencil going back to work as he etched out the beginnings of the fireplace. “Good. I shall require you, as well.”

The line crooked to the side as his hand twitched.

Eren’s boots clicked against the floor as he approached the canvas. “Meet me in the courtyard after breakfast is served.” Levi looked up at the man as if he had grown two heads. In actuality, that feat might have been more realistic than the thought of Levi Ackerman campaigning with a member of the Jaeger family after breakfast. The very idea had his gut twisting in a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. “Until tomorrow, artist.”

And with that, Eren took his exit, leaving behind a very befuddled - if not slightly captivated (though he would wholly deny it) - Levi to wonder what glorious plan the prince had in store.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Secrets 5

Harry Potter Marauders Era post Hogwarts

Link to Part 4 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: T

______

The next morning you awoke before Regulus. You had healed most of his injuries the night before and figured letting him sleep was the best thing for him at the moment. Slipping out of bed, you went downstairs, where judging by the sound of it, Remus was back. You immediately smiled. “Best friend time” was definitely what you needed.

Remus was on his feet the moment that you came in.

“I was wondering where you were.”

You said, throwing your arms around his shoulders. Remus smiled, hugging you back. When he backed away, you couldn’t help but groan at the healing scars on his face and hands.

“I swear, I should have been a healer. Sit down while I make you something to make you feel better.”

Remus sat down, knowing better than to argue.

“You just woke up. Wouldn't you rather have some tea first?”

You shook your head.

“Nope, I’m going to take care of you. Figure out what injuries Regulus still has and play doctor with him than practice for the new ballet I have to do.”

Remus’ face went white. That was the last thing that he wanted to hear. After the eventful night in the bar, Remus was convinced that the younger Black brother was out for his blood. Any time that the two men saw each other in public, Regulus seemed to have a new death glare reserved just for him.

“Regulus?! He’s here? Since when?”

“Yeah, it's a real kick in the balls isn’t it?”

Remus, Sirius, and James all turned as Regulus stepped into the room. James gave Sirius a smirk. The quicker James got Regulus' attention away from his crazed vendetta of hating Remus the better things would be.

“Well, you didn’t perish in the night. I knew my sister can fix people well.”

Regulus’ eyes flickered in James’ direction but went right back to Remus who was glaring at him just as coldly. Remus turned back to you in hopes of some kind of answer. When he left for his last mission, you were dead set on never forgiving Regulus. In fact, if you hexed Regulus, Remus would not have been surprised.

Now here was Regulus Black, looking like hell, in James’ kitchen and you were acting as if nothing was new.

“Y/n?”

Remus questioned again. You finally looked up.

“Remus, he and I are back together now.”

Remus blinked as Regulus sat down with a shit-eating grin on his face. As much as Remus shouldn’t have been surprised by you taking Regulus back; he was.

This is going to be bad…

Remus thought as you walked over and held out a small vile to him.

“Try this one.”

Remus sighed and downed the bottle without making a face. He had tasted a lot worse in all of his days on the planet. Whatever it was that you gave him was nothing new.

“Remus, he makes me happy.”

You softly commenced. Remus couldn’t help but scowl.

“I’m sorry but can you and I talk...in there...without him?”

“Just a second. I have to take care of him too.”

You felt bad for dismissing Remus especially when he was within moments of having a nervous breakdown but he didn’t see the shape that Regulus was in the night before. He didn’t see how broken and battered Regulus was. If he had then maybe Remus would understand.

Regulus, meanwhile, was grinning at Remus when you dismissed his request. He didn’t know why he was still so pissy with Remus. Regulus knew that Remus really hadn’t done anything. The poor guy was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and now Regulus wanted to unleash unholy hell on him. Jealous...that was the best the Regulus could come up with. He was jealous and not afraid to admit it. Remus had been your best friend since childhood. Remus was the one that you went running to when something unconvinced you. Given the nature of the secret relationship between Regulus and yourself, you weren’t able to come to him with your problems. If Regulus turned up to beat the cream cheese out of that other Slytherin boy that gave you such grief, there would have been questions. Those were questions that Regulus couldn’t answer at the time. Remus and the rest of his friends “setting the other boy straight” wasn’t anything less than expected. What if you still chose Remus over him as the one to help solve your problems? Was Regulus just supposed to sit back and watch? That wouldn’t happen…Regulus would see to that.

“Reggie.”

You said his name gently enough to pull Regulus from his thoughts. Grey eyes rolled up to you as you reached out to touch his face. Regulus winced when your fingers traced over a few hidden bruises were.

“Does this still hurt?”

Regulus shook his head as you moved your hand to stroke his hair. He wasn’t about to say, yes...you poking my face hurts in front of Sirius, James, and Remus. Regulus would let his arm fall off before he admitted to being in pain in front of the others.

“You’re so difficult.”

You hummed, as Regulus closed his eyes. Whether he would admit to it or not, the moment that you started messing with his hair the boy turned to mush in your hands. He would probably do whatever you wanted.

“You look pretty.”

Regulus said with a smirk when James rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to watch.”

James whined. Regulus turned his attention to James before pulling you on his lap.

“Then close your eyes.”

Remus, meanwhile, was still off in his own world taking in everything about Regulus and yourself being a couple again. While Remus saw you as only his best friend, he still would have preferred to have been the one with you over Regulus Black. The whole idea seemed like a disaster in the making. Regulus had broken your heart once. What would stop him from doing it again? A better question was what if his mother or father came back into the picture? Surely, they wouldn’t let their child prodigy go off and marry James Potter’s younger sister. Something seemed very “off” about that picture.

Why wouldn’t Y/n want him was the bigger question Remus. Regulus was good looking and rich. Both of those were good qualities to have in a lover. Remus didn’t consider Regulus anymore clever than he considered his own self. Maybe it was the fact that he had been the Slytherin seeker and had those “dangerous” eyes? Whatever it was Remus didn’t see it and it would be bugging him for a long time!

“Remus, do you still want to talk to me?”

Your voice pulled Remus from his thoughts. Remus was on his feet and walking out of the room before he realized what he was doing. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes when he heard you tell Regulus “I’ll be right back, love.”

It took you two or three seconds to catch up with Remus. He had gone outside on the front stoop and was looking down the quiet street. One look at your best friend told you that he was annoyed. You knew that you should have been surprised either. It was, after all, Remus that pretty much pieced you back together after the breakup. He was the gentle one that told you that everything would be okay when Regulus was out doing god knows what with God knows whom.

“I don’t get it, Y/n. What made you take him back? You were so devastated.”

You nodded, trying to remain calm.

“Yes, I was devastated because I love him.”

“He changed you.”

Remus snapped. Had it been another day, any day but today, Remus would have been a lot more patient. It was too close to the moon and his patience was wearing thin for everyone, not just yourself.

“Remus, I haven’t changed.”

Remus crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, since you started dating Regulus, you’ve lied to us. Hid a pregnancy that he didn’t want...none of that is Y/n Potter’s normal actions.”

Remus knew what he said was cold. He had made a self promise that he wouldn’t bring up the miscarriage as it was an obvious source of pain.

“Y/n, I’m sorry…”

You shook your head.

“I didn’t tell you or James or Sirius anything because none of you asked me. I never lied. No one ever asked me if I was seeing anyone because apparently, I am too pathetic to ever gain a boyfriend. Why would someone want to date Y/n Potter? She is nothing but a nerdy bookworm that is too pathetic to ever land a boyfriend. There! Does that sum things up for you?”

Remus sighed.

“That isn’t what I said. You were more than capable of landing a boyfriend. I just wasn’t good enough for you…”

You fought back the painful memories of the day when you had a crush on the man in front of you. Remus never reciprocated your feelings and that’s what made the whole thing painful!

“You didn’t even give us a chance.”

(meanwhile)

“Wonder what they are talking about?”

James questioned, as he watched both Remus and yourself throwing your arms at each other. Both of you were clearly frustrated and James couldn't tell who was winning.

“My guess is him.”

Sirius commented, pointing at his brother. Regulus was watching the conversation that you were having with clear interest.

“If you two would shut up then maybe we could hear and of course, they are talking about me.”

Regulus hissed. Sirius went back down the newspaper that he was reading before throwing it down.

“Oh, gross a spider.”

Regulus reached over and smashed the spider leaving his brother and James looking after him. Both had expressions of disgust on their faces.

“Thanks, Reg. Just what I wanted to do...read over spider guts.”

Sirius snapped as Regulus wiped his hand on his brother’s arm. James had gone back to trying to figure out what was going on.

“Would you two stop bitching? I can’t hear.”

Before Sirius could make a comment about how he didn’t ask for Regulus to smash the spider, you came back inside looking even more annoyed. You didn’t come back into the kitchen but stormed up the stairs and slammed your bedroom door.

James winced as he went to make a new cup of tea.

“Good luck, Regulus. Go find out what happened.”

______ @amelie-black

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[firefistlaw]

Request:

Hello! Could you do a hc about Luffy, Sabo, Katakuri and Law gf getting jealous because their boyfriends is working with a really really beautiful princess ( like saving a country or going to a country from some work stuff).

or... you’re jealous. (Luffy) 

a/n: I had a lot of fun writing them, I loved the idea so I chose to make a scenario out of it. The stories will be posted separately. As a fair warning, the s/o get jealous over stupid things, but I thought it was funny. Please let me know how you felt about them! 

Luffy

The weight of the guns on your belt were the only thing that calmed you down. With soft fingertips, you went along the cold metal, feeling safe knowing you could always grab them and defend yourself. But the scene in front of you still tested your limits. It took you all of your willpower to not throw yourself into the water for a nice cooling down swim. You pressed yourself stronger against the wood railing of the Thousand Sunny, wishing the wood would just give in and let you be.

„So, is the plan clear?“ Your captain said one last time, typical grin covering his features. Under normal circumstances you’d smile right back at him, but today you could only frown. His black hair was falling messily down his forehead, you noted silently. The straw hat was perched up like usual on his head. You let your eyes wander and bit your lip in annoyance when your eyes met hers.

The princess was standing next to Luffy, blonde hair looking as golden as honey. You could feel yourself getting uneasy as the timeline of the plan went through your mind again. The logical part of you understood that she was rather defenceless and needed some protection, but the other part of you hated the fact that Luffy took it upon himself to bring her safely to her family. The role of the rest of the crew was: distract, defend and— you gritted your teeth, be at the opposite part of the kingdom. As easy as that was, it also meant that your boyfriend would be all alone with a woman so gorgeous, your blonde crew-mate had fainted after he had seen her for the first time and almost bleed to death.

You sigh and shift your weight from one foot to another. Nami, who stood next to you, gave you a questioning gaze. But you only shrugged and made your way up to the middle of deck, where the rest of the crew was talking excitedly about the banquet the royal family would possibly throw once Luffy brought their dearest daughter back.

„Are you sure you’re okay with it, Luffy-kun?“ You heard her ask then, voice soft as butter. You stole a glance at the two of them a meter away from you and saw how the blush on her cheeks made her look even more innocent than before. If Sanji hadn’t been called away by Chopper earlier, he would have fainted yet again. „Am I not too heavy?“

Now you audibly huffed. Where was this conversation going? You turned your body towards the pair of them, ignoring the way the rest of crew was flickering back and forth between you and them. The air grew slightly tense. Luffy and the princess didn’t notice.

„I’ve carried things heavier than you, Lulu—,“ Her name was Lilly, you recalled and hated how you felt satisfied at the way he didn’t remember her name properly, „so carrying you should be no problem! It will be faster like that!“ He gave her a thumbs up and turned himself around, ready to walk away and get ready, when her small hand shot out and touched his arm, causing the muscle to stretch half a meter.

Carry her?

„Luffy-kun,“ she whispered and quickly looked at your figure standing close. „can we… talk privately? I would like to talk to you about something before our ways part.“ This time, her blush got even deeper and you swore, she let her full lashes fall like that on purpose.

You have had a feeling that her interest in your boyfriend was deeper than just friendship, but hearing her words that were promising to a love confession still took you by surprise. You didn’t see, but rather felt the presence of Usopp next to you. For some reason, you had the feeling that he was getting ready to stop your infamous temper from getting the best of you and some part of you was actually relieved at him standing close.

But Luffy just shook his head. „No,“ He merely said and your heart jumped in your chest. Did he actually noticed the meaning behind her words? It had taken you a few tries to make him notice your hidden romantic feelings, so maybe he had finally learned. Your shoulders relaxed. But then, of course, you were wrong, „we will have plenty of time to chat later on, right? You can tell me whatever you want then, Lulu.“ Right. They would be all alone for a longer time.

„Okay,“ She nodded her head softly and let go of his arm. „I still can’t thank you enough for helping me out.“ She turned around and looked at every crew member that surrounded her, even into your eyes for a second. Her own eyes were wet with unshed tears, „All of you. Thank you so much for bringing me back home. I don’t know what I would have done, if I hadn’t met you guys.“

You could hear encouraging words being called from everyone around you, Franky singing some wonderful tunes along with Brook and even Nami calling out promises as well. But it was Luffy who caught your eyes again. Your captain turned his back towards Princess Lilly and spoke his next words with a seriousness that made the blood in your veins tingle „You asked us for help. And I will make sure you get home safely, Lulu. That’s what friends do.“ It still amazed you how Luffy could switch from moods so suddenly, but it was one of the things you admired so deeply about him. The sudden urge to wrap your arms around him almost got the best of you, but you just turned to the Sniper next to you and let out a loud sigh. Maybe later you could steal some moments with him.

It was your task to stay with Sunny and take care of her. The kingdom you all were staying at was rather large and Princess Lilly had mentioned some bandits who took it upon themselves to rob empty ships. Thus leaving without having someone to keep an eye was out of the way instantly. And since Usopp and you could fight any danger from distance— again, you softly touched the metal of the guns on your belt— you two volunteered to stay behind.

„We should ask Sanji to make us some snacks.“ You mumble towards him and swallow down your previous insecurities. You couldn’t let your foolish jealousy get the best of you. Luffy was protecting his friend — and his friend was your friend… even if the friend was show stopping beautiful and probably smelled like cherry blossoms. You needed to focus properly.

Usopp grins into the sky, relieved at the change of heart. „I would love some lemon cake, to be really honest with you, Y/N. But if I ask him, he’ll tell me to leave. You go and ask him instead. And while you’re at it — ask for chocolate too, yeah?“ With a slight shake to your head, you turned on your heels and went for the kitchen.

And soon enough, it was time for your duties. The sun was high in the sky and the waves were calm. It was the perfect time to leave now. Zoro and Franky left with Brook first. Nami and Chopper left with Robin and Sanji shortly afterwards and mere minutes after that, Luffy took his leave with Princess Lilly after his hour long nap.

„Good luck.“ You said, shifting your weight from one foot to another. Even though you tried to swallow the uneasy feeling down, you could still feel its presence in the back of your mind and before you could stop yourself, more words left your lips, „Don’t have too much fun. I guess it could be tempting for some. “

Luffy, who was already half off the ship, gave you a gleeful grin, completely obvious to the double meaning behind your words, or the grim glance you gave him. „Thanks, Y/N! Don’t eat something good while I’m away, either!“ You crossed your arms and huffed at that. You were getting annoyed. For a moment he looked a bit confused about your reaction, but Usopp took a step towards him quickly, long nose scrunching in the sunlight.

„We won’t! Now go! We will take care of our pretty Sunny!“ His enthusiasm overshadowed your childish words easily, making Luffy nod his head. When his arms grew with length, you expected the tight curl of him surrounding your body in a hug, but with a quick tug at your chest, you watched his arms hug Princess Lilly. Five times did his arms curl, before he stepped up the railing and jumped off Sunny, the woman hugged safely in his arms. Even after they left, you stood still. You know how he was, he didn’t understand certain things in a way you did, but the picture of him leaving with her in his arms stung. It stung how he had not said anything more, not done anything more.

„Y/N,“ Usopp then said, slight whine in his raspy voice. „It’s Luffy. The only thing you should be worried about is him stopping at a restaurant and leaving that princess behind.“ He shook his head, his bronze skin glowing in the sun above him. He let his hand fall down on your shoulder, „Now come. The lemon cake look too good to not be eaten!“

You were glad to have him with you. In all these months of being a part of the Strawhat crew, being a fellow Sniper like Usopp was one of the best things that had happened to you. It didn’t take much to be distracted by his adventurous stories and dry jokes, but as the sun made its way faster across the sky, there was still nothing happening. Neither bandits, nor your crew mates were seen. At one point your friend even fell asleep on the grass, all while you leaned against the railing and looked out to the numerous trees that lay before you. You couldn’t see anything from here. It was straight up boring.

Caught up in this boredom, your mind drifted to your captain and the pretty princess in his arms. Were they already at the castle? Or still on their way? Your shoulders tensed. It was starting to become dark. Did they already have their little talk? Did Luffy think she was pretty? You hummed.

Did Luffy think you were pretty? Sure, he did say you looked nice from time to time, but it was rare. And it was Luffy, for crying out loud. You never knew what he was thinking to begin with. He just wasn’t the type to be affected by visuals, though.

But he did hug you tight when you tried on new clothing. Almost as tight as when you both kiss. You liked his kisses. He liked your kisses, too. How would he react if she kissed him? Would he like it and tell her to do it one more time like he does with you? Would she smile so lovingly at him, the way that you do?

You shook your head, „For heavens sake,“ you merely mumbled to yourself, not believing where your thoughts were going.

You were about to turn around and wake your best friend up for some entertainment, when you caught something moving behind the bushes on your right. The metal of your guns were in your fingers in a heartbeat, your feet finding a steady place automatically. If you called out for Usopp to wake up right now, the unknown thing would know that you had noticed it, so you had to keep calm and wait for the right moment to shoot a bullet — a warning bullet on the ground or a warning bullet in the flesh. You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins and again, the bush moved quickly. And then it parted. You gun was raised instantly, finger already on the trigger, when you let out a disappointed sight.

„Zoro, what the hell!“

Out of the bush came every one of your crew members, some packed with bags, some swaying slightly on their feet and when you looked at the green haired swordsman, who was at the front, you couldn’t help but shake your head at the bottles of Sake in both his hands.

„The plan worked perfectly, Y/N!“ Was the first thing Nami said once her feet touched Sunny’s grass, „Luffy already brought her back home and the city was so relieved that they gave us everything for free!“ Nami squealed, shaking the full bags in front of you. „I even got some stuff for you! Look at this!“ She took out a shirt and started to rant about how pretty it would look on you, when you started frowning.

„But where is Luffy?“

There was a small pause.

The rest of the crew had successfully woken up Usopp and were in midst of telling him what had happened. Nami and you stood a few meters away.

„Well, look,“ her eyes flickered back and forth, fingers now raising to play with her orange hair. „He’s still at the castle. Apparently the king liked him so much that he insisted on keeping him there. I think he promised him some meat and, well,“ she laughed nervously. „You know how he is.“

You gave her a small smile. „Yeah, I guess I do.“  You merely said and left the deck for the aquarium. Ignoring the wild conversations outside, you let yourself plop down on the velvet seating and looked at the shark swimming around the otherwise empty water. Luffy and Usopp had put the shark in as a joke once and stupidly enough, it had eaten the rest of the fish. Now it only swam around and looked angrily at everyone that passed him. The red fabric underneath you makes a dull sound as you shift around, worry swimming around in your own head.

You got it, honestly. He didn’t have to come back first things first. Luffy had all the right to stay as long as he wanted. He was your captain. If he wanted to stay, he could stay. You had no reason to be feeling the way you did. But it didn’t stop the headache that found its way inside of you. Even though he didn’t had to, it would have been nice if he did. With a sigh, you could feel the jealousy blossoming in your heart.

You grabbed one of the deco pillows and hugged it close to you, suddenly feeling drained and tired. The feelings inside you were a mess and what was even worse, was that they were caused by nothing. Nothing but your own thoughts had caused this. Luffy did nothing bad, but you were still all up in yourself. And soon enough, the disappointment in yourself lulled you into a soft, dreamless sleep.

Time passed quickly. The first thing you noticed was the shake of your body and the tight grip someone had on your arm. Sleep was still surrounding you like a big, warm blanked, but step after step it was taken away from you as the shaking on your arm grew heavier.

„Y/N, wake up. You slept long enough~!“ Luffy was crouching down in front of you, brown eyes full of excitement. The dark fabric of the seat was now pressed against your cheek and with a groan you noted that you must have lain down unconsciously. Your bones made a few sounds as you stretched your arms and sat up. „Finally!“

„I must have fallen asleep,“ you mumbled quietly. Luffy was still crouching down in front of you, but now he let his hand graze your thigh. You wanted to grab his hand with your own, eager to finally have him back with you, when the thoughts from earlier sprang wild in your mind. You abruptly got up, making the hand fall down on the seat. „What time is it?“

„Uh, almost midnight, I think? The celebrations are fully on right now, we should leave before we miss all the good stuff! Nami said you were asleep for a long time, so you probably missed most of it anyway.“

„I’m not going.“

When Luffy stood, you crossed your arms. You were now a feet away from each other, but it was too far away, and yet not far enough for you. To hold in your feelings, you bit the inner side of your cheek. After all the things that clouded your day, he just popped out of nowhere and wanted to celebrate? It was midnight now, so there were a few hours that he had not been here. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

„Why not?“ He merely asked and the genuine confusion in his face made the blood in your veins prickle. He now leaned against the little wooden table in front of the seats, arms swaying softly back and forth. His straw hat was still perched up on his head, but his red shirt, which was closed before, was now opened and showed the deep scar on his chest. „Are you feeling ill? Should I call Chopper? I could find him quickly, if I leave now. I think he went to the plaza—“

„No.“

His brows furrowed again, then he started to rub his finger underneath the space of his nose. „Sanji told me this would happen eventually,“ he mumbled sheepishly, mostly to himself. You balled your hands into fists. „Are you…,“ He looked to the side, his cheeks now colouring slightly. „Are you mad at me?“

Your mind went blank. Did Luffy really just notice that you were mad at him? Or feeling unwell? That certainly was a first, you thought surprised.

„I…“ There was no point in sulking any more. Your feelings were hurt and you had to let him know. „Yes, I am.“

„Why?“ Luffy took a step towards you. His eyes were concentrated on your face, as if he could find the answer in your features and if you hadn’t been so overwhelmed with all of your feelings, you would have giggled at that. „I didn’t have that much fun, I promised you I wouldn’t.“ He nodded his head, taken your words from earlier literal.

„I didn’t like how you ignored me.“ You breathed out and cringed at the way you sounded. But that is what it was, right? He gave the princess what you wanted; his attention.

„Ignored?“ He merely asked and again, he was genuinely confused. He leaned his head to the side, fingers holding the hat on top of his head. He was thinking hard, you realised and again, you wanted to hug him so bad. „Ah… I think I know what you mean.“

And then he giggled.

„This is not funny, Luffy.“ But he still giggled. You shifted your weight. This was really testing your limits. Why the hell was he laughing?

„Lulu said that you were mad that I hugged her earlier. She even said that she felt bad for making you feel…,“ He made a high sound. „jealous? But I told her that I loved you. And that you shouldn’t worry. Why would I like someone else?“ He tapped his fingers against his chin. „I don’t need to like someone else.“ And then his eyes met yours. „Because I have you!“

You couldn’t believe that you thought Luffy ignored you on purpose. Or that he was affected by someone as pretty as Princess Lilly. He never cared about anything like that, so why should he start now? He picked you. You, not her or anyone else. You could feel another wave of shame crash over you. You hated Princess Lilly when she didn’t mean any harm to you. And yet, you let your own insecurities get a hold of you. You winced.

„I’m sorry.“  You whispered then and let your head fall down in your hands.

You heard him before you felt him.

Luffy was stretching his arms and let himself crash into you a second later. The impact was hard enough to swoop you off your feet, but before your back could hit the floor, he turned you both around so you lay on top of him and fell onto something soft. His laugh echoed through the whole room, making the shark in the water glare at the two of you. „You’re so funny, Y/N.“

„No,“ you pouted then and felt your cheeks redden when his hands grabbed your face. „No, I’m not.“

„I’m sorry.“ He then said, voice serious again. And yet again, you were surprised by his reaction. You didn’t know that Luffy could be this mature. At least not in situations like that. As a matter of fact, he was more mature than you were. The shame pinged again. „I will never hug someone else again. Not even Chopper. Even though he is so soft and fluffy…“

You snorted and let your head fall down on his chest. He pressed his arms stronger against you. „Was that wrong? I thought I was supposed to say that? Sanji told me to apologise if you get mad at me, and I did?“

„No, Luffy… it’s okay.“ You giggled. „You can hug anyone that you like. It was my fault. I didn’t like that she was so pretty and you spent so much time with her.“ You softly shook your head and looked back up to him. „I reacted stupid. You did nothing wrong.“

„I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.“ He then said, words filled with truth. But you already knew that.

„I know.“ You let your fingers touch his cheek, the feeling of him still so… interesting underneath your own nerves. „I know, Luffy.“ You whispered.

He smiled. „Do you want to go and celebrate now?“

You let out an amused hum and pushed yourself up, now sitting on his lap. He sat up as well, arms still wrapped tightly around you.  „Of course.“

„Sanji said I should kiss you after we fight. He talked so much that day… told me to do all these weird things. Said I should really kiss you. Either that or he will come and do it for me.“

The laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it and a second later, Luffy joined you. Like fools the two of you sat on the floor of the aquarium and laughed.  

But at least Sanji didn’t have to come that evening.

[zecretsanta]

Fic: Christmas at the Kashiwabara's

To: @miiversian​ 

From: @bookworm-2692​

I used the following prompt: the 999 cast hanging out together again for the holidays! (sans Ace bc… obvious reasons). There’s also bonus Nona and Ennea, since Hazuki is hosting the party!

This possibly isn’t quite as happy as you were hoping for - but as we know from VLR and ZTD, post-999 Junpei isn’t in a good place, so a bit of angst snuck its way in. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Thanks for this prompt! I love the 999 cast, so this was really fun to write. I hope you enjoy it, and I wish you a wonderful rest-of-December!

AO3 Link

Summary: After the Second Nonary Game, Hazuki Kashiwabara hosts a Christmas Party for the other participants of the Nonary Game. They try to enjoy themselves and get into the Holiday Spirit, but as they’re still processing what happened last month, this doesn’t always go to plan.

———

Hazuki places the last knife and fork on the table, and sighs. It’s mid-December, mere weeks after the ordeal in Nevada, where she had been kidnapped and made to play some sick game, all to ensure the survival of some paradoxical girl’s existence. That same game was also where she finally learnt what her daughters had gone through nine years prior, and why they had returned from those nine days as shells of their former selves.

She still wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about the other participants of the Nonary Game. Two of them had caused the original game her daughters went through – Hazuki was free to hate them unreservedly, and feel gleeful that one was in jail and the other dead, blown to smithereens. Seven was the detective who had rescued Nona from the incinerator all those years ago – for all that he was annoying and loved to rile her up, she would be forever grateful that he had saved her daughter’s life.

Clover and Light were also victims of the first Nonary Game, the same game that Nona and Ennea had been kidnapped for. Hazuki felt nothing in particular towards them, other than pity that they had been forced to go through the game twice, and relieved that they had survived. The other set of siblings during Hazuki’s game, Aoi and Akane, had also gone through Nona and Ennea’s game as well. However, while she didn’t feel much specifically towards the Fields, she felt much more strongly about the Kurashikis, even though most of those emotions were conflicting and confusing. She felt the usual pity that as children they had been forced into such a cruel game, but she also felt anger that they then staged their own version of the game, endangering a further seven people (or nine, depending on how one counted). Their game however ultimately punished the four behind the first Nonary Game, with death and life in prison, and for this Hazuki was grateful. Nine years ago, Hazuki wanted anything to punish the culprits of her daughters’ kidnapping – now she had it, and she wasn’t sure if the price was worth it.

Then there was also the question of the paradox surrounding the siblings. Surrounding Akane Kurashiki in particular. Apparently, she had died on the boat nine years ago, but Hazuki had gone with Akane (and Aoi) behind every single door during the Nonary Game. Door 4. Door 8. Door 6. One of the Door 9s. She definitely seemed real behind each of those doors, and between the doors themselves. Somehow she had died nine years ago, and also masterminded the game six weeks ago in order to save her own life when she was twelve years old. This really increased Hazuki’s anger towards the siblings – that they would put on such a dangerous game, but then not even fully explain why, or how actions now could save a life in the past. Hazuki deserved a better explanation. But she was still glad they had ultimately survived. Probably.

The final participant of the Nonary Game was Junpei. Junpei, who had been friends with Akane when they were children, before Akane had died (or something. Hazuki had resolved to not think about that part of it too much). He had apparently not seen her or even thought about her for years, and yet now he cannot stop obsessing over her. He had immediately quit school to go find her. Hazuki wishes Junpei would just let it go and get over her. She was ultimately glad that Akane had decided not to be part of their lives anymore – she just wants Junpei to join the rest of them in moving on. As it is, every time she speaks to Junpei now, he’ll either be talking non-stop about her, or otherwise moping because she hasn’t gotten in contact with him yet. He had joined Seven’s detective agency, so Hazuki hopes he will be able to keep a closer eye on Junpei, and keep him from going further over the edge.

So, despite feeling conflicted or neutral about most of the others who had been kidnapped for the Nonary Game last month alongside her, they had all decided to keep in touch, and this evening’s Christmas Party was born. Since Aoi and Akane could not be contacted, they had not been invited. Junpei was devastated when he found out, although Hazuki is privately relieved. She isn’t sure she wants to confront the Kurashiki siblings about what had happened anytime soon, so knowing they won’t be here will give her some much needed space to process those emotions. Hazuki still isn’t entirely sure why she got stuck with the hosting job – until Seven pointed out that they were the two “most adulty” adults, and thus had the most established homes out of the group, and that his was a small flat since he lived alone, whereas her house was the largest because it was where she had raised Nona and Ennea. So here she was, setting the table, and hoping that tonight would not go horribly wrong somehow.

Just then, Hazuki hears the door unlock, followed by a loud “We’re home!” in Nona’s voice, and a smaller “With Clover and Light” in Ennea’s. Hazuki looks up, and indeed sees all four of them entering.

After the Nonary Game last month, Hazuki had learnt that her daughters had been kidnapped nine years prior in order to participate in an almost-identical Nonary game. Hazuki was shocked to learn that the morphogenetic field, pseudoscience she brought up to distract Junpei from whatever his funyarinpa nonsense was, was real, and that Nona and Ennea were intimately embedded within it. More disturbing was that their abilities with the fields were the reason they, and the other sixteen children, were kidnapped for that Nonary Game. Nona had met Light during their Game, and Ennea had met Clover, although somehow (Hazuki wasn’t sure she’d ever fully understand it) they were all aware of each other through the fields.

After escaping the Game, the Egyptian woman, Alice, had directed the car to the SOIS base for questioning. Following that, SOIS had attempted to track down all 18 children from the first Nonary Game, and offered them jobs. From what Hazuki could gather, Aoi and Akane could not be found, but the other 16 young adults now, all accepted the government job. Hazuki’s daughters had been reunited with their friends from those nine hours, nine years ago, and they were all workmates now. Nona and Ennea had thus offered Clover and Light a lift back to the Christmas Party following work that day, and now they had all arrived.

“Hello, hello!” Hazuki calls out. “Welcome to my home!”

“Hello, Lotus! It’s great to see you again.” Clover ran over to give Hazuki a hug, while Light walked over more calmly, and shook her hand.

“Thank you for agreeing to host us, I’m sure your home is very beautiful.”

“I’d appreciate being called Hazuki now, rather than Lotus, but you’re quite welcome.”

After Nona and Ennea each give her a hug, Hazuki directs Clover and Light to place the Kris Kringle gifts on the coffee table, where three brightly wrapped boxes already sit.

“I’m so surprised we’re the first to arrive,” Clover comments, “since it usually takes me forever to get ready.”

“It helps that we came straight from work though,” Nona adds.

“True.”

“Even so, I would have expected Seven to be more punctual – or even early,” Light interjects, looking thoughtful.

As if on cue, Hazuki’s phone buzzes with a message from Seven. He had told the group his real name after the SOIS questioning, since by that point everyone else’s was known, and codenames no longer mattered, but then Clover had declared that he would always be “Seven” to the group, and since he hadn’t introduced himself nine years ago when he was rescuing her brother and the others, then he lost the privilege of being known by a name (or at least, it would take at least another nine years for his name to sound like a usable name). Seven just shrugged at that, and said he didn’t mind the nickname anyway, and only disclosed his name to be fair. So Seven he still was.

Seven was texting Hazuki to explain he would be late, since Junpei was more unresponsive as usual. Junpei was extremely erratic when it came into keeping in touch – he would often go a week at a time before saying anything. Seven had taken to checking on Junpei when he didn’t respond to texts, and so he was giving Junpei a lift to Hazuki’s place (even if he, quote, had to drag him kicking and screaming).

“You’re right,” Hazuki announces to the group. “Seven was intending to be right on time, but he’s picking up Junpei, and today is apparently not one of Junpei’s better days.”

Nona and Ennea glance at each other as she says this, while Clover purses her lips and looks away. It’s Light who responds.

“Well, Junpei will be coming to the right place. We’re his friends, hopefully we can distract him tonight with food and jokes.”

Noises of affirmation heard all around, Hazuki sighs with relief as the conversation smoothly continues on. As a mother to children Junpei’s age, she worries about him. He rarely seems to discuss his parents or other family, or even other friends. His focus is completely trained upon Akane, and little else seems to occupy his time. She doesn’t want to baby him, though, and does her best to treat him as a regular adult, and avoids mentioning Akane Kurashiki whenever she can.

After about twenty minutes of conversation, the ringing of the doorbell cuts through and interrupts. Hazuki excuses herself, opens the door, and finds herself face to face with a grim Seven and a sullen Junpei. Upon seeing her, Seven grins, says “Merry Christmas”, and holds out his gift for the Kris Kringle. Junpei offers a small “Hi”, and Hazuki ushers them both inside.

“Ayyyy! They’re here!” Clover calls out.

“Junpei! What are you wearing?” Light says. “The colours clash horribly – I think it’s going to blind me!”

Junpei looks down at his all black outfit and scowls at Light but doesn’t say anything. Hazuki still chalks it up as a win – he doesn’t look as listless as he did before anymore.

Nona then steps up with Ennea following. Hazuki smiles when she sees this, as it has been their dynamic ever since they were small, Nona charging up and speaking for both of them, and Ennea being quieter behind.

“Hello Seven! And you must be Junpei. I’m Nona, and this is Ennea,” Nona introduces. “Nice to finally meet you after all these years.”

“Y- years? What do you mean years?”

“Akane mentioned you nine years ago. You were the one who told her about checking if the elevator was dry, to make sure we wouldn’t drown.” Nona steps closer to Junpei. “I was one of the four who went down the elevator at first, to check on Door 2 with Ren. Because of you, we didn’t drown. Of course we’d remember your name.”

“Of course,” Ennea adds, stepping forward as well, “we didn’t imagine at the time that you’d be an adult. But it was only weeks ago for you, wasn’t it? And not years, like it was for us.”

“And what on Earth did you mean by ‘boys don’t drown’? Of course boys drown! You idiot!” Nona flicks Junpei on the nose, and giggles when he takes half a step back, eyes wide and bewilderment clear on his face.

“Wh- what? You heard all that?”

Light smirks. “We didn’t hear your conversation, but Akane certainly repeated it for the rest of us.”

Junpei groans, and drops his head into both palms, just as Clover pouts and bemoans how it’s not fair that she didn’t get to witness that conversation, and that it’s not fair that her connection to Light is not two-way, like Ennea’s is to Nona. That’s news to Hazuki. She assumed all morphogenetic field connections were two-way, since that’s what she’s witnessed for years in her daughters. Hazuki raises an eyebrow and glances at Seven, who just smiles fondly at the others.

Ice broken, they begin to move to the table. The turkey is sitting in the middle, surrounded by various dishes, including a whole leg of ham and a potato bake. There are slices of cured salmon, meatballs and lingonberry jam, roasted vegetables, halved boiled eggs, bread rolls, and frankfurter sausages. Sitting on each plate are the Christmas crackers.

Soon enough, cracks fill the air as the crackers are pulled. Brightly coloured tissue paper crowns rest atop of everyone’s heads, and terrible jokes are being shouted across the table. The plastic items inside the crackers are looked at with mild curiosity before being forgotten for the rest of the meal. Long after all the crackers are gone, Junpei, Seven, and Nona have engaged in a heated pun and dad joke war. There’s a comment shouted over that din that the terrible jokes are supposed to end when the crackers end, as everyone digs into the food.

The clatter of cutlery against the plates begins to die down as everyone finishes. Hazuki is feeling comfortably full as she looks around the table, a feeling of satisfaction at seeing almost everyone’s empty plates. Junpei’s is still mostly full of food, and it looks as though he barely touched it. Hazuki doesn’t take it as a slight against her cooking, as Junpei’s appetite has been lacking lately, and mostly feels sorry for him. She doesn’t dwell on it though, as she doesn’t want to lower the otherwise lively mood – Clover and Ennea are excitedly chatting and practicing some of the ASL that Sachiko has taught them, while Nona, Light, and Seven are chatting about what each of them got up to in the nine years since they first met.

Nona glances over at Hazuki, then looks at Ennea, and then both of them get up to start clearing the table, telling Hazuki to stay sitting. Hazuki still can’t quite believe that the “twin thing” she had joked about all those years ago was real, and not just limited to twins.

“Ah, is it Kris Kringle time?” Seven says. “I’ll grab the gifts, you four stay put”

Junpei complies – Hazuki isn’t entirely sure he was even paying attention – but Light grumbles that being blind and missing an arm doesn’t make him incapable of helping, and gets up anyway to assist Seven. Clover takes one look at her brother, and stays seated, explaining that when he’s like this, he’d rather not have help either, so it was simpler to just… let him be.

Soon enough, the table is cleared and the gifts are in a pile in the centre of the table. Ennea fetches a couple of dice and Clover takes one look at them and bursts into laughter. She points to Junpei and says “no dice”, continuing to laugh. Hazuki smiles in wry amusement and Seven chuckles at this, when the doorbell rings unexpectedly. Still standing, Ennea goes to the door and opens it, silent shock radiating from her. A shout of “No way!” from Nona, before she leaps up and runs to the door.

Curiosity piqued, Hazuki begins to rise from her seat, when Nona says, “Well don’t just stand there, let them in Ennea!”

It’s two people Hazuki was beginning to think she’d never see again. The two people who orchestrated the entire game last month.

“Aoi? Akane?”

At the mention of “Akane”, Junpei finally looks up, and sees her.

“Akane? You’re here? Why?” Junpei is just staring in shock and disbelief – which is exactly what everyone else is doing, too.

“I’m sorry for turning up uninvited,” Akane begins, but Junpei interrupts her.

“Don’t apologise for that! I’m just so glad you’re here! But… why didn’t you come find us sooner? How did you know we would all be here?”

“We couldn’t come earlier,” Aoi says sternly. “What we did was not exactly within the bounds of legality, and we couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t turn us into the police. And if you start to do so now we’re marching straight back out again. I didn’t even want to show up here and now, but Akane… she insisted. She said we had to do this.”

“Junpei, I’m so sorry. I just. I had to disappear like that.” Akane tries to be gentle but Hazuki can detect a hint of impatience in what she is saying.

“Okay so you had to leave or whatever, that’s fine,” Clover interrupts. “But like, I know Lotus wasn’t able to contact you two. Because you left. So how on Earth did you know we’d all be here? Like not to make you feel unwelcome or anything but…?”

Akane places her head in her hands, and sheepishly says “I got it from Junpei, via the Morphogentic Fields. We’re still connected.”

“Wait… you got my location via the field? Why couldn’t I get yours?”

“Well um, Junpei… I have a bit more experience with the fields…”

“What she means to say,” Aoi interrupts, “is that she’s amazing at them and your abilities are non-existent. You were only able to connect to her before because she was able to reach across the nine years and connect. You can’t do jackshit on your own. She was able to read the invitation Lotus sent you, but even if Akane was standing in a room with flashing neon lights saying ‘we are here’ you would get nothing from her, unless she chose for you to get it”

“So Akane is able to spy on Junpei whenever she likes, and he gets no say in the matter?” Light asks quietly.

Akane says nothing, and looks to the ground. Junpei glares at everyone and no one. Aoi freezes, as though he hadn’t considered it in those words before.

“No… I don’t think that’s quite right,” Ennea pipes up.

“Yeah. We’re able to block each other out if the other is annoying us too much,” Nona adds.

“So if we don’t want to be connected… then we won’t be.”

“And since we know Junpei quit uni to search for Akane, he wants to find her. He opened himself up to her. She can connect to him through the morphogenetic field because, on some level, he wants her to.”

“No!” Junpei suddenly shouts. “I don’t want her to, to, to spy on me! I just… don’t want her to disappear!”

“I can’t block Light though.” Clover turns to her brother. “Can I?”

Light looks thoughtful. “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever been aware of you blocking me. Sometimes I don’t get anything from you, but I don’t know if that was intentional on your part or just…”

“So can we only block each other because our connection is equal in each direction?” Nona asks.

“But so was ours!” Junpei bursts out. “Back in the incinerator, I could hear her, and when I spoke, she responded! It’s like we were talking in real time!”

“She’s just that much better at it then you. She can transmit and receive powerfully enough that she could simulate that. I don’t think you can block her,” Aoi says. “For what it’s worth, I don’t get a choice either. She either chooses to give me something, or get something from me, and otherwise I can’t connect to her either.”

“I don’t want to be spied on,” Junpei repeats in a quiet voice, staring at the floor.

There’s silence for a moment, as though no one knows how to respond to that.

“Well, you’re here now aren’t you? So you may as well join us and sit down, right?” Seven looks at Hazuki in confirmation, and she nods. “Have you eaten yet? Yes? That’s good, I think we pretty much demolished everything here, we were just about to get on to the Kris Kringle game. Perfect timing for you to show up, Santa Claus. What have you got in your sack of goodies?”

“My. Name. Is. Aoi.” Aoi says through gritted teeth. “Yes, we did bring gifts, but stop calling me Santa!” He holds up two wrapped boxes, a cylinder and a flat rectangle, and places them on the table sharply.

“Is that another thing you stole from my brain?” Junpei retorts.

“I mean,” Akane begins, “it is a Christmas party, is it not? So gifts were an obvious thing to bring.” Junpei’s glare doesn’t abate, and Akane sighs and adds, “Okay yes, I read that on the invitation too. Happy now?”

Before another argument could get under way, Clover picks up the dice Ennea brought over earlier, and says, “Okay forget about all that. Let’s play! I’m the youngest so I should start!”

Relieved by the distraction, Hazuki raises her eyebrow and says “Sure. Provided you don’t insist on age order for the rest of it, and settle for a simple clockwise direction.”

Clover says “Deal” at the same moment that Junpei mutters “You just don’t want it to be obvious that you’re like the oldest one here or close to.”

“Oi! Just because you’re grumpy is no excuse to turn on me young man!”

Before Hazuki could continue yelling at Junpei’s blatant disrespect (how dare he!), Clover throws the dice down onto the table, perhaps harder than necessary, where they clatter for a few seconds before turning up as a one and a three.

“Aww,” Clover whines, as she pushes the dice to her left to Nona. Nona rolls the dice less forcefully than Clover, and ends up with a three and a five. She just smiles, and passes the dice to Light, making sure they drop into his hands. He rolls, and Nona cranes over to see what he got.

“First double,” she announces. “Two ones.”

“Wait, seriously?” Clover asks, and gets out of her seat to see for herself.

“She’s right,” Seven, to Light’s left and at the head of the table, says. “Snake eyes, huh? What are the chances of that?”

Light smirks. “Clearly I chose the right name for myself six weeks ago.” He reaches out and grabs the closest gift in the pile, as Seven grabs the dice and rolls.

The game continues. Doubles on the dice are rewarded with choosing a present from the centre, until they’re all gone, and then the players are free to steal the gifts from each other. Hazuki doesn’t miss how Junpei keeps on snatching the gifts brought by the Kurashiki siblings, despite the intermittent glares he keeps on sending them.

Soon enough, the timer on Ennea’s phone goes off and the game ends. Everyone stops to take in each other’s hoards. Clover has a pleased grin on her face as she notices that she has the largest hoard, with three gifts. Light and Ennea managed to snag two each, while Aoi and Junpei each have a single gift. Hazuki, Seven, Nona, and Akane all have no gifts. Ennea immediately hands one of her gifts to Nona, seated across from her, while Light offers one of his gifts to Hazuki, seated across from him. After a beat, Clover notices everyone looking pointedly at her, sighs long-sufferingly, and gives a gift each to Seven and Aoi.

The group then opens the gifts. Hazuki unwraps the small package from Clover, and finds a deck of playing cards. Hazuki turns to Clover to thank her, but is greeted by the sight of Clover staring suspiciously at a packet of chips, and then putting one in her mouth. Almost immediately, she yells at Junpei about the chilli flavour while simultaneously offering them to everyone around her. Aoi absent-mindedly takes a chip and eats it without flinching while fiddling with the three-dimensional puzzle he received from Light, trying to pull it apart. Next to Aoi, at the end of the table, is Akane with the mini succulent that Ennea bought.

Just then, a loud shout sounds out. Nona is holding what appears to be a Pringles can, but instead of Pringles inside, is a giant stuffed snake. Nona glares at Aoi, while he just grins and offers her a thumbs up, leaning back on his chair and thoroughly enjoying himself. She stuffs the snake back inside the Pringles can, closes the lid, and throws it at Aoi. It hits him in the face, dislodging the lid, so the snake leaps out again. Aoi falls off his chair, and glares at Nona, and then at his sister when she also starts laughing.

Hazuki tears her eyes away from the sight, and looks back at Light. He received the bottle of wine she had bought, and is sniffing it to identify it. He seems to sense that she is watching him, as he turns to face her and thank her for the gift.

“A joke book!” Ennea exclaims from Hazuki’s left. “And they’re not even good jokes. They’re terrible puns and dad jokes. Almost worse than the Christmas crackers earlier! Seven, why do you wish for me to suffer in this manner?”

Seven just laughs and holds up the notebook and coloured gel pens he received from Nona. “Your sister has just granted me the means to create even more jokes, and worse ones. Just you wait for next year!”

Ennea groans, dropping her face into her arms. “Just kill me now. End my suffering, please,” she jokes.

Hazuki laughs and looks beyond Ennea to Junpei to see what he received. He’s holding yet another book, looking between it and Akane and back again.

“What’s wrong with it, Junpei?” Hazuki asks.

“It’s a Sudoku book!” Junpei exclaims. “It’s like she’s taunting me about last month!”

Clover starts laughing. “Oh man. That would’ve been terrible for any of us to receive since we’ve all been in that incinerator – but especially you!”

Junpei glares again. “Akane! Did you do this on purpose?”

“Do what?” Akane asks serenely. “I did indeed exchange money to obtain that book… but I didn’t purposely give it to you. You kept on grabbing it yourself!”

Aoi smirks. “She was pretty sure you’d go for the one from her though.”

“Hey! Don’t expose me like that!” Akane turns in her seat and playfully hits her brother, before turning back to Junpei. “I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant to cause distress. You at least don’t have a time limit for any of these.”

Junpei scowls. “I guess.”

“Junpei – you’ve been trying so hard to find Akane,” Hazuki begins. “Now that she’s here, why are you being so hostile towards her?”

“I- I don’t… she’s just confusing! Why a Sudoku book? Why does she get to disappear and then come back without warning? Why is she allowed to spy on me? I don’t understand!”

Aoi leans over to Akane, and quietly says, “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome. We should go before we make things worse.”

Akane nods and stands. “Hazuki, thank you so much for opening your home to us. It was lovely seeing you all again one last time but it’s time for us to go.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Aoi adds. “Merry Christmas, happy holidays, all that jazz.”

“Wait.” Junpei gets out of his chair. “What do you mean by ‘one last time’? Are you leaving again? Why’d you come back if you’re only going to leave again? Why are you leaving me?”

Akane just looks heartbroken as Junpei keeps on talking. Junpei’s arm reaches up, reaches for her, but stops before touching her. Akane doesn’t look at Junpei, mumbles another apology, and turns around and back towards Hazuki’s front door. Aoi offers Junpei a final, “Sorry, man, we both wish we didn’t have to do this,” before following his sister out the door. Junpei’s arm continues hanging in the air where Akane used to be, before it drops to his side. Junpei bows his head, and Hazuki can see his body shaking, while everyone else stays sitting at the table in stunned silence.

Clover is the first to break the silence. “They’re… gone. Just like that. They’re gone.”

Seven gets up, walks past Hazuki to Junpei and grips his shoulder. “Hey man. How are you holding up?”

Silent sobs continue wracking Junpei’s body as he struggles to draw breath, let alone respond. Seven draws him into a hug, enveloping him and shielding him from the stares of the others.

“I think we’ll head home now,” Seven says, not releasing his hold upon Junpei. He meets Hazuki’s eyes over the top of Junpei’s head. “Thank you so much for your hospitality. I hope you have a wonderful holiday. Thanks everyone for an enjoyable evening. Come on, Junpei.”

One arm still around Junpei, and they too leave.

“Poor Junpei,” Ennea whispers.

“How did Akane change so much?” Nona wonders. “She’s nothing like what she was nine years ago.”

“The incinerator,” Light says. “None of us can know exactly what she went through in there.”

“But… she survived, didn’t she?” Clover asks. “She’s here now, we did the Nonary Game last month to save her life. So she shut it off. So it’s just like what happened when Junpei shut it off for us last month, or when Reed solved it for Ennea’s group nine years ago, right?”

“There are infinitely many timelines where she died,” Light says. “There’s only one where she survived.”

“But that’s this timeline! She survived here!”

“I still remember her dying. I remember her screams and I remember Aoi collapsing on the floor when the door opened and all he saw was ash. I also remember Akane surviving. I imagine if I can remember Akane dying, so can she. She probably fully remembers burning to death until she no longer existed. That would change a person.”

“I remember her dying,” Ennea mumbles. “Nona remembers her surviving.”

“Y-yeah. I think I can understand how she would remember dying too,” Nona says.

Hazuki doesn’t know what to say. She didn’t even find out about the first Nonary Game until she had already been through her Nonary Game, and even during her game she didn’t have the pressure of either finding or sending information through a, a, a pseudoscience! These four had that extra pressure, as well as being actual children at the time.

The silence stretches for a moment longer, and then Light says, perhaps a little too brightly, “This was a wonderful evening, Hazuki. However, I think we need to head home now as well. It’s late.”

Clover startles out of her thoughts and agrees. “You’re a wonderful cook, Lotus! If that’s what Nona and Ennea had growing up, they’re so lucky.”

Hazuki smiles. “Thank you. Happy holidays, and get home safe.”

“We will! I’m driving!” Clover grins. “Bye Ennea! Bye Nona!”

“Bye! See you soon!” Nona and Ennea chorused.

Once the door closes behind the Field siblings, Hazuki begins chewing her lip, worried.

“Did I somehow make it worse for Junpei, doing this?” she asks her daughters.

“No, Mum,” Nona says. “I think it was good for him to actually interact with people again.”

“Besides, you couldn’t know that Akane would show up, nor that that would affect him like that,” Ennea adds.

“I suppose,” Hazuki concedes. She still isn’t entirely convinced, but it isn’t just Junpei she worries about. Everyone who has been through a Nonary Game will carry those scars for life. They just have to take this one day at a time.

She wraps her daughters up in a hug, reminding herself that they’re still here, still alive. One day, this will all get easier. They just have to get there.

[bibliocratic]

TMA jonmartin fics

Organising these, mostly so I can keep track to be honest. All some flavour of jonmartin, predominantly fluff or angst. cws in original tags. 

Updated as of June 2020

If you'd like to send any prompts, feel free!  All of these are also bundled together on A03.

Martin tries to rescue Jon from Elias, post-160

JONAH MAGNUS Oh, but, look. Look at him, Martin. Isn’t my Archive magnificent?

MARTIN [whispered, almost fearful] Yes.

Martin feels the pull of the Lonely. Jon draws a bath.

“Come on,” Jon says, enfolding their hands together.  His voice is kind, and that’s never died, no matter how the world bricked it up and starved it of sunlight. Jon’s kind to his bones, and it wells up from the deep down of him.

Jon pulls the way, and Martin follows behind.

Even after Jon stops being the Archivist, they aren’t safe. (parent!AU)

“I would like to propose an idea,” Martin says. Softer now. More tired. “and I-I want you to hear me out.”

“OK.”

“Whatever it is.”

“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence.”

Martin gives him a Look.

“OK,” Jon says, rubbing his thumb over Martin’s knuckles. “OK, I promise. Whatever it is, I-I’ll at least listen.”

Martin's nightmares never quite leave him

Martin feels the question form there, at the centre, the tentative journey it traverses before he hears 'Can I…. I mean, do you want to…?’

The question isn’t fully born before he’s heaving great waves of sobs into the chest he’s pillowed on. Like clockwork, the arms come round, always an inch too tight a grip, and somehow that makes this easier to bear.

Things were always going to catch up with them eventually

He’s a light sleeper, and they knew he would be. Didn’t want him to wake too soon, to be denied a proper welcome. Jon shifts and stretches and burrows as he slips dazedly into consciousness, nestling tighter against the body next to him still fast-asleep before the thick weight of sleep is dropped and he jolt up, a punched out breath of shock escaping them.

And finally they are witnessed. They watch his expressions free-fall from understanding to despair.

Local Man cheats at card games, Local Avatar is smitten

Martin likes playing, not necessarily competitively, but where he does excel is in cheating. Jon catches him swapping out a three for a queen out of the corner of his eye – well, Martin wants him to catch him – and his smile is wide and shocked and gleeful in his own way –you cheat! How could you?!

soulmate-identifying marks, or: fuck yeah tattoos

“The Archivist?” Peter Lukas asks. His voice isn’t mocking. Martin isn’t sure what it it.

He hates the tone of it.

“Do you want something?” Martin responds curtly. Frosty. Tugging his sleeves back down pointedly. Peter’s expression is ever so proud.

Something is wrong. Martin just can't put his finger on it.

“Sorry,” Jon says, without sounding sorry in the slightest, almost cheeky. He bestows another kiss that is not a kiss to Martin’s neck, scraping a little with his teeth.

“Sleep,” Martin repeats, groggy but firm, and traps the soft, unblemished skin of Jon’s hands in his own.

Martin has certain standards

Jon feels a wide smile begin on his face (still so rare, still hard-won, but Martin teases them out of him with the smallest things these days).

“You hipster!” he says with delight, secretly pleased he’s found something he can tease Martin about. “Have you thrown out my teabags just to make a point?”

Jon wakes up and finds Martin gone

– Something is absent from us. –

Jon opens his blinking, feeble human eyes. Feels around with his finger tips, feels the cool sheet next to him, the unoccupied imprint on the pillow.

Martin is not next to him.

Jon strikes a bargain to save Martin

Martin is blinking away the sediment build-up of unshed tears and they roll down his face, shrivelling in the strict grip of the cold.

“I thought,” he says thinly, “I thought I was going to die alone.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Jon bites out, and it only has the ghost of a furious intensity but the sentiment soaks in it. He feels the Loneliness recede, with a slowness that’s impartially mocking. “You aren’t going to die. I won’t let you.”

Martin showing normal, genuine human anger, feat. Blackwood Snr.

“Right,” comes the short response. “I am – you know I am trying here.”

Martin’s voice goes low and flat and judgemental.

“And how long until you lose interest this time?”

MLM solidarity front, or: Tim and Martin go drinking

“I mean – I – I’d like to. If you – if you still want.”

Tim grins, and his cocksure manner is on display like a theatre curtain lifted. He stands up, doing a stupid little bow like he’s trying to make Martin laugh.

“t'would be my honour to lead you astray, Master Blackwood.”

Back-and-forth early morning teasing

“It’s a bit late to tell me you’re a dog person,” Jon chides instead. “I’m afraid I might have to call this whole thing off, if that’s the case.”

Martin looks up at him with his face squashed into his ‘you are not, and have never been funny, Jonathan’ face.

Martin hides an injury. Jon is freaking out in his own way.

He can taste grit and dirt in his mouth and there’s a stinging dampness on his upper lip. He blinks, coming to terms slowly, and it’s then that he realises, just from a brief glance, that Jon is absolutely fuming.

Jon is getting better at expressing what he wants

Jon reaches out, and like setting fingers to the board of a violin, delicately fits his hand against Martin’s. Like he’s memorised exactly the places where they go, the coves and shorelines where their islands can align.

Martin’s grip has never been as careful. His fingers engulf Jon’s smaller size, cushioning them in a sturdy grip.

How to proposal to your boyfriend during an apocalypse, and definitely how not to.

Jon tries to write vows.

Domesticity and  going on holiday, post Watcher's Crown

“Jon!” Martin is shouting with his head shoved in the under-stairs closet. “You got your raincoat?”

“I won’t need it,” comes the low response from the kitchen.

“The weather said it might rain.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jon replies, only half listening really, with a willfully misplaced confidence in the weather.

“I’ll pack it anyway,” Martin calls back, kicking something else with his foot that sounds like the hoover. “In case.”

Jon does not react well to ending the world. Martin puts together the pieces.

Under the watch of that terrible sky, Jon crumples like something demolished.

Martin catches him. He always will, he remembers thinking.

In the Lonely, Jon hugs Martin (set mid-159)

Jon’s arms go around him, and there is nothing tentative, soft-shoed, there is no awkward displacement holding him slightly at a distance. Jon’s arms go around him, and he – his body unfolds against Martin’s. There is much too much of him, a surge of all-at-once motion and Martin feels like splintering.

Martin's not the only one susceptible to the Lonely

He hears the wash of mile-distant waves, as though behind the shelves to the front of the shop, and thinks not here, not here.

He tries to shake his head loose of the fog beginning to bind it like cobwebbing wisps. But the world has such terrors in it, and the Archive keeps record of them all. And that’s what Jon is, in the end.

The day-to-day ramifications of being a record of ceaseless terror

In the dark, under the covers, the sound is the shift of grave soil, of pressing earth, but it is also Martin, ensconced in warm empty dreams, Jon trying to breath through his nose and not wake him up, and it can be all of these things at once.

Supportive Martin and the Eye-based horror his boyfriend sometimes turns into.

“Stop.”

The rats stop. So does Martin. The scream bubbles un-made and unvoiced in his chest and he can’t blink the blood out of his eyes. He can’t see Jon, but he doesn’t expect to. It’s not Jon that’s here with them any more.

'I'll stay right here, ok?”

“The ambulance will be here s – ” Martin starts, trying to be gentle, but Jon tightens his grip ever so kindly, shakes his head.

“I don’t think I’ll be waiting around for that,” he says, and it’s almost light-hearted in the face of what they both know is now inevitable.

Patron swap, Lonely!Jon, Beholding!Martin

It is a surprise to no one that upon taking over the Institute, Peter Lukas turns his hand at trying to steer Jonathan Sims to the Lonely.

In the days after the end of the world, Jon finds Martin a gift

“Woss, what’s wrong?” Martin starts, but Jon’s pressing something into his hands firmly, so self-satisfied, joyous and smug with a mysterious success, and he feels his own grin start to blossom in kind, wanting to take part in the same delight. “What is it?”

sleep doesn't look pleasant, spoilers for 161

Martin won’t wake up. Eyes clenched closed, breathing laboured, and for a long while, Jon’s world gets quieter as his own immediate louder fear rises like gall in his throat. He tries compelling him even.

Jon doesn’t know that this will happen every time Martin dreams.

Jon is admitted to hospital. Martin frets.

Jon nearly died today, his brain keeps reminding him. You nearly lost him, you nearly weren’t fast enough.

Trans!Jon, Trans!Martin, intimate rituals

Jon’s hair is getting long.

Morning rituals, Jon admiring the view.

But he much prefers this slow and lazy unwinding of a day because he gets to study Martin. He puts his elbows on the wooden table off to the side of their pokey kitchen, and enjoys watching an artless, intimate one-man performance just for him, as he acclimatises to the day.

Scottish honeymoon, soft get-together

Martin wonders why Jon didn’t go upstairs. Take the bed. The cottage is an old crofter’s place, two small and utilitarian bedrooms where they discarded their meagre belongings on arrival.

Martin looks at the tea. Feels the scarf under his head, the heavy coats weighing him down.

Thinks he might know why.

Monster!Jon, AU S5

“What the fuck are you?” she says. She does not lower her weapon. The guard to her left has raised her own.

All of its eyes blink out of rhythm as its unseen mouth moves with that croaking, piteous whisper. “He’s, he’s human, he’s hurt and he needs – he’ll die, please.” The man it is carrying looks human. Painted with dirt and filth, the slick of insects broken over his skin. His breathing is starting to rattle.

Tim is mildly cursed, S1 shenanigans 

Whoever is closest, but usually Sasha, will give a sarcastic cheer. To which Tim – cradling his injury,  glowering with a fire-starter expression at whatever file or paper or fragment dealt the blow – will reply: “Piss off, right, it’s not funny, I’m cursed. This is a curse.”

OG Archive crew sad hours

There could have been a day, when they’d all just talked.

Martin struggles to readjust to the world, post 159

Some days though, when the tempest around has dropped from squalling, Martin feels brave enough to look over at Jon.

Jon and Martin’s post-s5 wish list

“Martin?”

“Hmm?”

“After all this, after we’ve – what do you want to do? If we manage to – ”

“When we manage to.”

“Fine, when all this goes back to the way it was, what do you want to do?”

Safehouse drabble

Jon doesn’t sleep but this rest is as close to peace as this world allows him. 

AU S3, Breekon and Hope take Martin, not Jon.

Tim always thought Martin was reliable. Unshakeable.

That he was always going to be there.

Martin’s daemon is a spider. People have mixed feelings about this.

“Aron,” Martin says slowly. He keeps his hands folded on his lap but his fingers twitch to reach out. “This is – we’ve settled, haven’t we?”

Aron can’t nod. His form can’t allow for such an expression. But he brings his legs in closer, pebbles up and won’t look at Martin, and that’s answer enough.

Aspec Martin Week - Daemon!AU

Martin has always liked watching Emer. The flash of gossamer-white wings circling Jon’s head or sat on his wrist like an overly-extravagant watch while he read statements.

“Stop looking,” he used to hiss at the moving lump under his shirt, poking many orb-like eyes over his collar to stare even when Martin stopped. “It’s rude.”

Aspec Martin Week - Martin’s first Pride

Restored from their dramatic hangovers, Monday comes. Martin arrives huffing and delayed from the Tube to see Tim’s stuck his flag so it stands battered and proud over the lid of his laptop. Sasha’s made her small desk teddy bear hold hers. And it’s the memory of the day, the sun and the heat and the wild dizzying lack of expectations of it all, that gives him the courage to bring the flags he carefully preserved in on Tuesday, to put them jutting out of the mug on his desk that holds his stationery.

Honestly, he doesn’t expect anyone to comment on them. It’s not like anyone else comes down to their offices anyway.

Aspec Martin Week - Martin comes out (with help)

You surge against his lips again so he can’t see your nerves, you stupid, unfounded, calcifying anxieties, the barriers you keep putting up yourself because you are so terrified of being happy.

“Maybe… not tonight?” you mumble into your shared air. If he pushed, if he asked again, you would. He dragged you from the shoreline, out of the fog, this is the least you can give him. You’d lie on your back, or you’d cover him with your shape, and you’d try so hard to make him happy so he wouldn’t notice you not sharing the same. “’m a bit tired.”

Tricky, is what you are. Perjurious. Prevaricating. Two-faced.

Martin is a massive fan of Jon’s multitude of eyes

“I just want to see,” Martin mimics petulance and Jon huffs a smirk.

“They are my eyeballs,” he responds primly, putting down a dry mug and picking up a plate to towel off.

“What’s the point of having horror-bestowed physical improvements if you don’t show them off?”

Martin worries about being a father

That’s not – ” Martin says, stops. Pulls his hands away from his face, his eyes puffy.

He takes Jon’s hand, still perched on his knee, laces their fingers together. Over the baby monitor, Jon can hear the soft untroubled in-and-out of their son breathing.

“I sounded like my dad,” Martin confesses finally. Fat tears well up and stagger down his tear-prickled cheeks. “I sounded exactly like him.”

Martin and Jon get wine drunk 

Jon sticks out his tongue. Martin tries to poke it with his finger, and Jon reels back with another one of those wine-laden expressions, earnest and open as a window.

“I want to know everything about you,” he says, struggling with finding the opening at the top of the pack, before  he pauses, dutifully following up with a no-less sincere and concessionary: “But not if you don’t want to.”

There’s nothing sexier than open and honest communication (post-166)

“I fucking hate the Buried,” Jon says into Martin’s shoulder.

“It sucks,” Martin agrees. “You er – you have any more poetry this time?”

Martin feels Jon’s ‘no’ like an earth tremor over his breastbone.

“Worms,” comes the reply muffled shapeless into his coat.

“Like…normal worms?”

“People worms.”

“Rrright. Less fun then.”

Martin has some thoughts about the Web

Martin does not think about spiders. 

(Except he does.) 

Did you feel, Jon had proposed delicately, like she was influencing your mind at all? 

Jon’s world has no certainties. No maps, boundaries, no promises that can remain unquestioned. 

Martin has the edges of his world now. He has to be able to trust in them. 

Jon gets hurt and doesn’t tell Martin

Jon burns when Martin puts a hand to his forehead, and he won’t wake, not for Martin’s calls and shakes, not for anything. When Martin goes to check, the wound on his leg has rooted from ankle to thigh, festering rot-black branches of something sludgy and swollen and varicose tracing the same lines as his veins.

The Corruption wars with Beholding upon the battleground of its Archive, and there is nothing Martin can do.

Martin still struggles with his mental health

It was easier, Martin thinks sometimes, when he could blame it on the Lonely.

Episode 170 could have gone so many different ways

This is your house, we whisper to him.

You have always been here alone, we promise.

We recite to our beloved that he has never been loved, and our winds, our walls, our winding mists tell him so often that eventually he believes us.

[perspective-series]

Switched Perspective (19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Mentions of Past Trauma, Mention of death/almost killing someone, Arguing, and Guilt

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters and the prequel!)

This is a sequel to A Third Perspective! Read that first or you will be confused!

(Totally didn’t forget to post this yesterday...)

                                               _______________

 Virgil entered back into Logan’s apartment with Roman in hand, seeing Logan and Patton already in the living room. He smiled at Patton but avoided eye contact with Logan. Things might have gone well with Roman, but Logan was an entirely different story.

 He looked around the room. “Where’s Thomas?”

 “Oh, I’m in here!” Thomas popped in briefly from the kitchen. “I figured I’d make everyone dinner while you were busy working out your feelings.” He dried his hands on a small towel. “So, how’d it go?”

 “Wonderfully!” Roman said enthusiastically.

 “Satisfactory,” Logan said, less enthusiastically.

 “It was...good. Really good, I think.” Virgil said.

 “Amazing!” Patton exclaimed, even more enthusiastic than Roman.

 “See? I knew you could do it!” Thomas began looking between them. “So, who’s next?”

 “I want to talk to Virgil next,” Patton said, causing Virgil to worry. Virgil could guess where this was going.

 “I suppose I can talk to Logan, then.” Roman offered. 

 “Oh, you suppose?” Logan muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. Thankfully no one seemed to hear him.

 “Okay, well how about you two just talk out here?” Thomas offered, gesturing to the coffee table where Logan already stood. “Then Patton and Virgil, you two can take Logan’s bedroom.” 

 Virgil nodded. “Alright.” He put Roman on the coffee table before following Patton into the bedroom. 

 Virgil stood awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom as Patton shut the door behind him. His friend then came over to stand in front of him, crossing his arms. Virgil found himself receiving the disappointed look from before. “I’m really sorry Pat, I-”

 “I know Virgil.” Patton cut him off, dropping his hands to his sides and looking at Virgil sadly. “I know. I know you and I know you regret it, right?”

 Virgil nodded furiously. “Yes, I do, so much.” Virgil’s earlier self-deprecation and thoughts came back to him and tears welled up in his eyes. “I-I almost killed them, Pat.”

 “Oh kiddo.” Patton came forward and captured Virgil in a hug, holding him tight. “Shh, it’s alright. The important thing to remember is you didn’t kill anyone, okay?” Virgil sniffed against Patton’s shoulder.

 “You sound like Roman.” Virgil let out a watery chuckle. Patton, for his part, looked intrigued. 

 “Oh?” He had to assume Roman and Virgil were friends now, with how they responded to Thomas before, but he wanted to know what happened exactly. Virgil nodded.

 “Yeah, he...forgives me. Told me not to worry about it and that I’m only a bad human because I was never meant to be human.” Patton hummed, nodding.

 “Sounds right to me,” Patton said and pulled away a little to be able to see Virgil. “Look kiddo, we’re already friends, so this talk isn’t about that. And I forgive you for everything as well, but…” Patton sighed. “I’m sure you know.”

 “Logan.” Virgil sighed and Patton nodded.

 “Yeah. I already talked to him about you. And I asked him to at least hear you out about things. So I’m going to ask the same to you, okay? I know what Logan did to you, to us, was wrong. But Logan knows that now, and he’s apologized.”

 “I-I know,” Virgil said after a moment of hesitation. Patton looked at him.

 “Virgil, both of you are feeling some of the same things right now. I can tell. You both regret what you did but you’re not sure if you can forgive the other for what they’ve done.” Virgil’s eyes went wide, that’s exactly how he felt. Even though he regretted his actions and didn’t feel like Logan deserved them, he was still...upset at Logan for everything he did before.

 But Patton was right, as always. They were in the same boat here, and if he wanted Logan to forgive him, he needed to work on forgiving Logan. 

 “I’ll try, I promise,” Virgil said and Patton grinned.

 “Good. I’m proud of you kiddo.” They hugged again before pulling away fully this time. They stood there for a moment.

 “Should we...go back out now?” Virgil asked, motioning towards the door. Patton chuckled.

 “Something tells me they aren’t done yet. We should probably wait for Thomas to come to get us.” Virgil nodded, looking around the room. 

 “So, whatcha wanna do until then?” Patton thought for a moment, before snapping his fingers.

 “Oh! I never got to really tell you about my trip out with Thomas! It was great, okay, so, we get in his car, right? And then-” Virgil took a seat on the bed, listening to Patton speak with a smile on his face as they both waited to be called back.

***

 Thomas waved goodbye to the borrowers, heading back into the kitchen. The two looked at each other, not sure what to say.

 “Sooo…” Roman tried to start off the same way he had with Virgil, but Logan cut him off.

 “Don’t.” Logan shook his head, turning away.

 “Wha- don’t?!” Roman looked offended, jogging over to where Logan stood so the nerd couldn’t ignore him. “Excuse me, did you just tell me to shut up? Did you forget the whole point of this?”

 “We’re neighbors, not friends,” Logan said, putting a hand on Roman and gently pushing him away to keep the prep from invading his personal bubble.

 “Yeah, but we have to become friends to appease the writer witches, remember?” Roman reminded him.

 “That whole idea was preposterous to begin with.” Logan pushed up his glasses. “While I had no problem strengthening my relationship with Patton, I see no reason to do the same for you or...Virgil.”

 “Okay, Virgil, I get.” Roman put his hands up in surrender, knowing Logan was still traumatized. “But why not me? What have I done?”

 “Oh, where do I begin.” Logan looked too gleeful for someone about to list off negative traits about his fellow human. “For starters, the very first interaction the two of us have ever had in person was you running into me and harming our respective borrowers, as well as myself, in the process.”

 “That was an accident-!” Roman tried to protest.

 “Ah ah ah, I wasn’t finished.” Logan waved his finger back and forth. “Even before I met you I disliked you. Frankly, you don’t even make a good neighbor. You’re rude with how loudly you blare your ‘tunes’ and disrespectful in keeping me awake late into the night. I haven’t had a good night’s rest since you moved in.”

 “You never even tried to talk to me about this,” Roman argued.

 “I left many strongly worded letters in your post box,” Logan informed him. “But after a period of time, it became clear that receptacle was never checked.”

 “So what, you won’t be my friend because I forget to check my mail?” Roman crossed his arms. “Really?”

 “Hardly.” Logan was far from finished. “Let us fast forward to after that incident. I learn you traumatized Patton,-”

 “I already apologized to him for that.”

 “-break into my apartment, repeatedly insult me, and then insist that I’m a villain for trying to protect my friend.” Logan ignored Roman’s outburst.

 “I didn’t call you a villain for trying to ‘protect’ Patton.” Roman huffed, getting annoyed. “I called you a villain because you were trying to keep two people captive. Again.”

 Logan rolled his eyes. “Then let’s fast forward to today, shall we? When you repeatedly took Virgil’s side despite the fact that he was actively trying to torture me.”

 “I wasn’t on Virgil’s side, I was on your side.” Roman insisted. “I came to rescue you. That’s why I climbed off this table to go after Virgil!”

 “Oh really?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you insist I didn’t tell Patton? Why’d you insist I lie and hide the nature of my injuries? What possible benefit could that have for me?”

 “I was trying to keep everything civil,” Roman argued. “I wanted to keep the peace between everyone. I thought Patton deserved some happiness, and I thought Virgil deserved a chance to ...change.”

 “Yes, and that worked out so well.” Logan sneered. “I almost died because of your foolish redemption thoughts. Next time, leave the thinking to those of us with a brain.”

 “Hey!” Roman knew Logan had every right to be angry at him, but that was just rude. “You weren’t innocent as a human, either.” 

 “I didn’t dangle anyone off a building.” Logan hissed, looking extremely tense as he began to shake.

 “Okay, yes, fair enough.” Roman backed up a few steps, giving Logan space. “You didn’t do that. But I talked to Virgil, and he knows he screwed up. Big time.”

 “Stop saying that!” Logan pulled at his hair slightly, tears forming in his eyes. “Stop talking about him like he’s changed or or like he’s not just waiting in there to be alone with me again and- and-”

 “Logan!” Roman rushed over, rubbing at Logan’s shoulders comfortingly. A few tears began to fall from the nerd’s face, but Roman tactfully ignored them as he pulled Logan into a hug. Roman began rubbing circles into Logan’s back.

 “Logan,” Roman said firmly. “Virgil is not going to kill you. Patton and I will stay in the apartment, okay? Thomas is here, too. You have nothing to worry about.”

 “I-I know.” Logan winced, hearing a hiccup come out with his words. He hated appearing weak, but at least Roman wasn’t mocking him for it like Logan would have expected. “Logically, it makes...sense. Virgil won’t try anything with everyone around.”

 “...but?” Roman prompted. 

 “But…” Logan sighed, pulling away from the hug to take a seat on the wooden surface. He pulled his knees to his chest. “It’s just...difficult not to feel afraid of impossibilities at this size.”

 “I know what you mean.” Roman sat down beside him. “I have been scared soooo many times today. By Virgil, by Patton...and by a certain giant rat.”

 “That thing was atrocious.” Logan shuddered.

 “Yeah…” Roman paused, finding the timing right to ask a question he had been wondering ever since that incident. “Hey Logan, why did you save me from that thing, anyways?”

 “It was the right thing to do.” Logan shrugged.

 “Well, that doesn’t seem like a very ‘you’ answer.” Roman teased.

 “I haven’t been feeling very ‘me’ today,” Logan admitted. “Although I suppose that’s the problem, I’ve been feeling far too much today. It’s exhausting.”

 “Does that include feelings...for me?” Roman said hopefully. “Because, y’know, logically, I think saving someone from a giant rat is less of a neighborly thing and more of a...friendly thing?”

 Logan chuckled. “I suppose it...could be classified as such an act, yes.”

 “And does that mean we’re friends?” Roman leaned very close to Logan, eyes sparkling.

 “Ah, not quite.” Logan pushed him back. “I still have one last question for you.”

 “Go ahead, bestie.” Roman winked, elbowing him lightly. 

 “...Why do you hate me?” Logan asked, looking down at his lap.

 “Wait, what?” Roman frowned, leaning back slightly. “I’m trying to make you one of my best friends, why on earth would I hate you?”

 “Back when Virgil was trying to scare me,” Logan winced, “the first time, he asked you for one good reason to not hate me. And you…” Logan looked at his hands, clenching them into fists. “...you came up with nothing.”

 “...oh.” Roman suddenly remembered that he did, in fact, say that.

 “All you could think to say was that I’m manipulative, selfish, and generally unpleasant to be around.” Logan gritted his teeth. “But now that some old piece of paper says we’ll be human again if we’re ‘best friends’, you’re suddenly acting all buddy-buddy.”

 “Logan…” Roman sighed. “I only said those things because I was trying to say what I thought would make Virgil listen. Anything good I said about you wouldn’t have been good enough for him, he’d just shoot it down.”

 “What, so you weren’t even willing to try?” Logan scoffed.

 “I pandered to my audience,” Roman admitted. “I talked about you in a way that I thought would make Virgil agree so that he’d see my point. I was trying to protect you.”

 “Well, you have a funny way of showing that.” Logan pointed out.

 “Okay, fair enough.” Roman conceded. “But you do have to admit that, before, you were all of those things.”

 “I was not ‘generally unpleasant to be around’!” Logan said in a huff. 

 “That one was harsh!” Roman put his hands up in defeat. “I’ll admit, not my best work. I could have phrased it better. But you were, in the beginning, cruel to both of our borrower friends.”

 “But you’ve changed.” Roman continued. “You’re not those things anymore. I know we haven’t spent much time together, but we’ve had our share of good moments. And you’re clearly listening to others, being empathetic, and using your knowledge for good. You’ve made a terrific borrower.”

 “...I do try.” Logan adjusted his glasses. 

 “And you saved me.” Roman reminded him. “Despite the fact you thought I hated your guts, you saved me. You really did do it just because it was the right thing, didn’t you?”

 “Well, yes,” Logan said. “After all, I don’t lie.” 

 “Logan, I’m...I’m sorry.” Roman apologized. “I’m sorry I ever called you the bad guy. You’re a good person.”

 Logan looked over at him. “Really?”

 “Really.” Roman nodded. “You’re a good person, who deserves a decent sleep schedule. So I’m sorry about my music, too, and when everything switches back I promise to fix that.”

 “And I shall promise to approach you with my problems rather than allowing them to accumulate in your mailbox,” Logan promised.

 Roman stuck out his pinkie, wanting to make it official.

 “Really, Roman?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “We’re not twelve.”

 “C’mon, I want to make it official.” Roman gave a small whine. “Besides, I’ve kind of got a thing going right now.”

 “Fine.” Logan entwined his pinkie with Roman’s. 

 “Excellent!” Roman stood up, offering Logan a hand to help him stand. “Friends?”

 “Friends,” Logan confirmed, taking Roman’s offer. He wasn’t sure exactly what a friendship with Roman would look like, but Logan was at least willing to find out.

[aneilert]

The One With Everything [MAG158: Panopticon]

This episode was delayed almost 20 hours, sending the whole early-access-community into a gradually deafening frenzy even before it launched. And then it took off for real. 

The rest of the day has been a bit of a blur, to be honest, and if I’ve done anything not connected to relistening and speculating, then at least I can guarantee that neither my brain nor my heart was involved in it.

It’s hard to be eloquent when faced with this much content. I have raved elsewhere about the quality as well as the sheer quantity of content this episode can boast, but I’d like at least to post my List of Things We Had Expected, Hoped For and/or Dreaded and that happened, were confirmed or who returned in this episode:

1. Tim mention and grief

The fandom has never stopped grieving Tim Stoker, and every once in a while, someone will sigh about how they miss him and how much they wish his death would be at least mentioned on the show. Did he have no impact? Have they forgotten him? Well, canon has spoken: They have not. 

2. Not!Sasha coming back

I can honestly say I never spent much time on the theories that muttered about how she had been enclosed in the tunnels and probably still was there. My bad. I will certainly never again forget the old rule that if someone (or something) doesn’t die on camera (as it were), they’re not dead. (And fuck were those amazing voice distortions!)

3. Leitner’s book coming back

Don’t forget where you put your evil book. It might not be there anymore when you come back for it a year or two later. (The blood on it, btw? Also Leitner. That bit was hilarious. I despise Peter, but he has brought some of the funniest lines this season; «In my defence, it’s still quite funny» is my personal favourite.)

4. Elias escaping prison

We didn’t think anything was keeping him there longer than he wanted to, and we were right; it was just a matter of timing. He would never want to come sneaking back if he could be making an Entrance.

5. Jonah!Elias

Probably the most popular fan theory (apart from those concerning various ships) is canon. And what a deliciously disturbing visual it is; Jonah Magnus’ eyeless body aging in the Panopticon while his eyes do what they have always done: watch over his Institute. Never has Elias sounded more smug and delighted with himself than in this episode, and you know what? Much as I hate him, I’d say he’s earned it.

6. Elias/Peter meeting

Trust fandoms to make feverish ships built out of characters who have never interacted in canon. And boy, do the LonelyEyes shippers feel vindicated today! Not only did the two horrible old men finally interact, but their dynamic was revealed to be exactly that of an old, dysfunctional and probably multiple times divorced couple. Even Jonny said so. 

7. Martin having A Plan / having played Peter

We love Martin and worry about Martin, and we have been extremely worried about his latest signs of being fully on board (sic) with Peter’s nebulous plan. Is he that naïve? Is he that far gone? Or … is he playing Peter? Is he weaving his own little web, like in the previous season, when he managed to play Elias?

The truth, as so often, is a place in between. He has been playing Peter (and God was that an amazing reveal and a heart-rending speech! And Christ was Elias gleeful when he reminded Peter that he had been warned not to underestimate Martin, but that he still did it!), but he has also been joining the Lonely. There is something to be said for being able to keep distance, I guess. Even though it makes me heartsick.

8. Tape with Gertrude’s death and last confrontation with Elias

This is something I have been wanted for some time now. Gertrude is awesome and marvellous and badass and truly scary, and I have been wondering: did her hubris kill her? How did Elias take her down? What happened? 

Well, now we know. Or … we know part of it. Gertrude’s body had three shots fired in it, but the tape only contained one. And the tape was numbered #0182509-A, hinting at possibly a B existing somewhere. Maybe we haven’t heard the last from Gertrude yet?

Also: How very satisfying it was to see that Gertrude had basically the same plan as Martin: Burn some Institute stuff to keep Elias from seeing the real threat! I love what this says about Elias’ complacency and underestimation when it comes to Martin (but I worry what yet another parallel with Gertrude might bode for his future …).

9. Peter taking Martin into the Lonely

The premise of a lot of fics. Can’t wait to see how it plays out in canon.

10. Hunters returning at an inopportune moment

We all, including Jon and the gang, knew they were out there and that it was just a matter of time. Still fun! (Particularly Trevor yelling JONNY BOY!)

11. Daisy going feral

Oh, this is hard; she wanted so much to be free of the Hunt. But honestly: this is why she was brought back, whether she (or Jon) knew it or not: To reconnect with her humanity, and then to give it up willingly to save her friends. And, why not, to have the savage joy of ripping out a few more throats while she’s at it. 

Will Basira honour their promise? Well, that’s a tale for another day, as the story says. For now, let’s just enjoy the amazing sound distortion on Daisy’s breath, her voice and finally her growl. Daisy scared fucking Julia Montouk, and not many can boast that.

12. Jon and Elias talk

It’s been a long time coming. It was not at all what I had expected in any way, but it was amazing. And Jon hardly even noted what Elias was saying or how he gloated, because he was 100 % focused on …

13. Jon following Martin into the Lonely

Of course he did. Of course. He went into the Buried to get Daisy, and he didn’t even like Daisy, and she tried to kill him. Of course there’s no limit anymore to how much he will risk himself for a tiny sliver of hope that he might save Martin.

I worry so for them, though. Martin has refused Peter’s plans, true enough, but he has not refused the Lonely. He has been sliding into Forsaken for Jon’s sake, but he has still been sliding into Forsaken! And Jon’s journey into monsterdom is if anything even more worrying and harder to reverse.They have both been trying desperately and without any real clue as to how to save the world for each other’s sake, but what have they given up along the way? 

Still. Jon clawed his way out of the Buried fuelled by Martin and by the signal from his rib. Who’s to say it might not work a second time?

Also: the one person we didn’t meet who I almost had expected, was Annabelle. Someone must have put this last tape on Jon’s desk – and someone must also, long ago, have given him that lighter that he never can focus on long enough to remember he has. Is there a silvery Web thread connected to it, where it lies in his pocket? Could he be able to follow that thread out again?

I have no idea. I also have no idea how I am supposed to wait for the next two episodes. Or how my head felt before this podcast ate my entire brain. 

[scriptura-adrepticius]

Holidays - 9P

Hello, hello! I don’t know how many people even still care about this blog but @hyukcieee, here’s your Christmas present from the npn secret santa! It’s still Christmas where I live so I hope it isn’t too late?? I was going to post it like last week but everything picked up like two weeks before so I had 0 time to write, sorry :/

You said it didn’t matter which member it was for so I wrote a short drabble for each 9p member based on a prompt off of the npn winter prompt challenge :) I hope you like them!

I hope everyone who reads this is having a great day and happy holidays to you all!

Pairing: Nine Percent x reader

Genre: fluff, nonspecific!au

Word Count: 5.4k

Holidays with Nine Percent are certainly holidays that you will never forget.

Masterlist

beautiful group of people, i will love them forever

Someone decided to put mistletoe all over the school as a sick sort of joke, and you’ve just been shoved under a clump of the stuff by your conniving “friends.” Who are you supposed to kiss, you might ask? Well, your friends are eyeing a certain someone walking down the hall…

- - -

“So anyway, he -” You stop short, glowering at your friends as they immediately look away from each other, looking suspiciously innocent. “Alright, that’s it, what’s wrong with you all?” you snap. “You’ve been like this for the past two days!”

“Like what?” Dinghao asks a little too innocently.

“Yeah, I wasn’t aware that we were acting differently at all,” Huafei chimes in.

You huff, trying to formulate your jumbled thoughts into words. “You don’t pay attention to me when I talk, you’re always whispering with Linkai and his little gang, you keep giving me those strange looks - how can you say you’re not acting differently?!”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then someone grabs your arms and holds them hostage behind your back.

“What the fuck?” you snap, violently twisting. “Let me go, dumbass!”

“Uh-uh-uh,” Dinghao sings, looking very, very gleeful. Next to him, Huafei and Ruotian stifle giggles, while you struggle even harder. “What the hell is going on!” you yell, attracting quite a lot of attention.

Jingzuo looks upwards, smirking, and you follow his gaze, eyes widening in horror as you take in the small plant that hangs from the ceiling.

“Oh hell no,” you mutter, shaking your head wildly. “No, no, no, no, no! Gao Maotong, get your stupid hands off of me, or so help me I’ll -”

Then someone slams into you and Maotong releases your arms, allowing you to collapse in a heap on the floor. Disgruntled and feeling extremely murderous, you grit your teeth and look up, ready to chew your friends out.

Instead, you see an outstretched hand. Your eyes travel upwards, taking in dark clothes, a leather jacket, and then…

Oh my god.

You meet eyes with your crush of two years, Wang Ziyi.

It takes a couple of seconds to force yourself to calm down, and though you want nothing more than to run away screaming, you accept his hand, allowing him to help pull you up. You try really hard to look at his face, but it’s so hard - the whole situation is just so absurd. You drop his hand as soon as you can.

“Sorry,” he says in that low voice of his, giving you that soft smile that never fails to turn you into an absolute train wreck. “My friends pushed me.” He shrugs apologetically.

“I - uh, it’s fine,” you say quickly, willing the growing heat to leave your face. “I’ve gotta go, but -”

“You have nowhere to go!” Huafei snaps. “Don’t lie to Ziyi!”

If your face wasn’t red before, now it is. You shoot her a furious glare.

What in the world are you doing?! you scream internally, hoping she gets the message.

“Y/N?” Ziyi’s voice snaps your attention back to him. “I… I think I know why they put us here.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, cursing each and every single one of your so-called friends. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice tight. “Sorry. My friends are stupid. I - it’s cool if you, uh, if you don’t want to, I totally get it, I wouldn’t want to kiss me either, sorry about everything, this is all a mess, I swear I had no part in planning this -”

“Hey, hey, hold up,” Ziyi says, taking your hand again. You flinch at the suddenness of his gesture but otherwise manage to remain neutral.

His next words, however, have you shell-shocked.

“Who said I didn’t want to kiss you?”

Total silence.

“Sorry?”

His stupid, gentle smile is on his lips again and you can’t think at all. “I asked who said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

“I - I thought - I thought we were just friends?” you squeak. “I, uh, since when…” You let out a little huff. “What the hell?”

Ziyi’s little laugh is even more addicting than his smile. He leans in a little closer, and you can feel his breath puffing slightly on your face.

“You wouldn’t mind, would you, if I kissed you now?” he asks, ignoring the gasps and hoots of the crowd watching.

“For tradition or because you like me?” you manage to spit out.

A shy blush flits across Ziyi’s cheeks and you almost melt. “Because I like you.”

The smile that overtakes your lips is shaky but genuine and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. “Then, no, I wouldn’t mind,” you reply.

His lips press against yours, and your mind goes blank. You can register only the feeling of his lips on yours, his fingers clutching your hands, his hair tickling your cheek. You cannot hear the cheers of your friends, the squeals of the crowd, the claps of the audience. It’s like Ziyi is your entire world.

When he pulls away, cheeks flushed red, you seize on your temporary insanity and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close again.

“Remind me to kill my friends later,” you murmur, and you just hear the beginnings of his gentle laugh before you press another kiss to his lips.

. . . . .

Why did your best friend decide to put mistletoe all over the school as a joke? You don’t know. Why did you go along with it? You don’t know. All you know is that you didn’t expect to accidentally stumble under a bunch of it with said best friend. It isn’t just the cold that’s turning your cheeks red, now.

- - -

“How did this happen?” you ask, not looking at your best friend for fear of him seeing your blush. “Why are we so fucking dumb?”

Linkai snorts. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not dumb.”

“Oh yeah? Then who was the one that first walked under the mistletoe?” you snap.

“And who was the one that didn’t realize and walked under after me?” he retorts.

You cross your arms. “Fine,” you groan. “So are you going to kiss me? Or are we just going to walk away and pretend this didn’t happen?”

On one hand, you want him to agree to the second so your feelings for him stay hidden forever. On the other hand, you want him to agree to the first so you can fulfill one of your dreams.

“Tradition is tradition,” Linkai mutters, refusing to look at your face. You can see the pink tinting his cheeks though and for the first time, you think your feelings might be returned.

“Since when have you been a traditional kid?” you push, forcing him to look up. “Never. So how come you’re relying on tradition now?”

The tiny smirk he throws you gives you a heart attack. “Because… maybe I like you?”

You blink once. Then twice.

“Only ‘maybe?’”

A real blush spreads across Linkai’s face and you can see how much effort it’s taking for him to look into your eyes. Understandable, because you want nothing more than to duck and run away into the crowd that’s forming as well.

“Fine. I definitely like you,” he mumbles, ruffling his hair.

You smile a little. “Good, because I like you too.”

Amidst cheers and hoots, you press a short kiss to his lips, leaving the usually confident boy speechless. Then, suddenly, he regains his confidence and pull you to him for a deeper kiss.

Most of the time, Linkai’s mischief gets him into trouble. At least this time, something good came of it.

You smile into his lips.

. . . . .

Holiday season means holiday shopping, no? You hate shopping, but when you come face to face with that cute sales guy you’ve had a crush on for a long time… well, maybe your sentiments will change now that you’ve seen him decked out in holiday gear, looking stupidly, absolutely adorable.

- - -

The bus is full of people, and you curse your stupid, procrastinating self for leaving Christmas shopping for the last minute.

Christmas shopping is a bore.

With a tired sigh, you squeeze onto a seat. You can practically smell the sweat and heat radiating off of the people and you crinkle your nose up with another sigh.

Then, your brain decides it’s the best time to cut in with a stupid thought.

Hey, shopping isn’t that bad. You might get to see that cute sales guy!

You really hope no one sees the blush crawling up your cheeks. If anything, hopefully they’ll think it’s the residual cold.

Cai Xukun is literally the cutest guy you have ever met. He is drop dead gorgeous but down to earth and mellow at the same time. His smile is blinding, his eyes are sweet, his laugh is beautiful… there is literally nothing not to love about the boy.

“And here I am, thinking like a lovestruck thirteen year old,” you mutter, making room for another person as they squeeze by. The bus rattles and belches a cloud of smoke, then rattles away.

You sigh.

It’s going to be a long day even if I do get to see Xukun.

- - -

Ten stores later, you’ve found almost all of your gifts. Your wallet is about to start sobbing, your feet are about to start screaming, and you are about to sag into a tired puddle on the floor.

“One more to go,” you mumble, looking with trepidation at the fancy storefront.

Nine Percent. Your best friend’s favorite clothing store. They have some of the most outrageous items but at least the prices are fair.

Also the place where - guess who - Cai Xukun works.

You drag your sorry self into the store.

“Hello, welcome! Can I help you today?” a cheery-faced boy with a bright smile asks chirpily the second you walk inside.

It’s not Xukun. You hope the disappointment doesn’t show on your face as you give him a slight smile. “No thanks,” you reply. “Just looking.”

“Christmas shopping?” he asks, looking sympathetic. You allow a sardonic smile to show itself before nodding. “Yeah.”

“Shit, sorry,” he laughs. “But let me know if you need any help!”

“I will, thanks.”

The store is huge, but it doesn’t take much effort to find the section your friend loves since you’ve been here so many times. You drop your bags, rubbing your aching hands, before perusing the racks. Minutes later, you’ve found something, and after checking the size you back to the front of the store to pay.

Then your brain short circuits, because your stupid crush is manning the counter. He’s got a stupid little Santa hat on with a stupid green woolen sweater, and he looks like… boyfriend material. There is no other way to put it.

Suddenly, you care a little too much about the knots in your hair, the bags under your eyes that you haven’t bothered to cover up, your oversized hoodie that now seems too casual for this. You want to at least pat down your hair, but then you’d probably knock your bags everywhere, and you don’t want to look stupider than you already do. So you steel yourself and walk up to the counter.

“Hi!” Xukun says with his bright smile. Your heart thumps. “Ready to pay?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say quickly, pushing the clothing over.

There’s silence as he rings up the items and places them into a bag. You jab your card into the machine and look down determinedly because you are absolutely sure your cheeks are bright red.

“Are you okay? Your face is really red.”

Fuck.

“I’m fine.” You give him an awkward smile. “It’s just… the cold outside.”

The little smirk he gives you as he hands the bag over gives you a heart attack. “I see. Well, have a nice day! Happy holidays!”

What the fuck does that smirk mean?

“Thanks, you too!” you squeak before bolting out of the store.

Outside, the cold air cools your cheeks and after trudging a few streets, you sit down at the bus stop. With a sigh of relief as the pressure is taken off of your aching feet, you take out the receipt from your latest bag to stuff inside your wallet.

What’s on the receipt nearly gives you a second heart attack.

Hey, one of my friends told me you think I’m cute. Well, I think you’re cute too. Here’s my number, text me sometime, alright?

XXX-XXX-XXXX

A strangled sort of screech leaves your throat, causing more than a few concerned looks to be thrown your way, but you’re too busy staring at the receipt to care.

Once you’re settled on the bus, you take out your phone with trembling fingers and input the number. After agonizing over the text for several minutes, you settle for “Hey, you gave me your number on my receipt. Are you sure it wasn’t a mistake?”

One minute passes, then two, then three.

Read.

Typing…

No mistakes were made. I’m Xukun, but I’m sure you know that.

I hope you are Y/N?

You’re almost hyperventilating.

Yeah, I am.

He responds quickly.

Great. Want to go out for coffee sometime? My treat!

It takes all your effort not to scream out loud, but as you type out your answer with a smile on your face, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Christmas shopping isn’t so bad.

. . . . .

You’ve always wanted to be kissed in the rain, thinking that it’s the ultimate romantic gesture. Well, there isn’t any rain, but maybe snow will do.

- - -

“Why do you love rain?” Linong asks, shivering in the cold. He’s wearing a huge coat and has a scarf wrapped around his neck, while you only have a warm sweater. “Rain is so… cold.”

“But what about when the sun is out while it’s raining? Then it’s warm rain, and it’s like… fun! You can jump around in the rain!” You grin, whirling around with your arms out. “Plus, you’re so tall and fit. How come you’re still cold? It’s just a little snow!”

Linong shrugs, burrowing further into his scarf. “It’s still snow,” he mumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you grab his hand. “Warmer?”

You can see the blush on his cheeks despite his efforts to hide it. “Come on, we’ve been dating for nearly six months, Nong!”

The kiss you press on his cheek seems to increase the blush. “Warm now? That’s what your face is telling me.”

“Stop teasing,” Linong complains.

“What if I don’t want to?” You smile teasingly, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

“So you want to continue teasing? How about I ask you about your fantasy of being kissed in the rain?” Linong tosses back, finally pulling his face out of his scarf.

Suddenly, your face feels warm. Much warmer than before. “How - how do you know about that?” you squeak.

“You shouldn’t leave scribbles in the margins of your chemistry notebook,” he smirks.

Noted.

“Dammit,” you mutter. You can’t even be mad because you were the one who lent the notebook to him. 

“I mean, I could help you with that,” Linong mumbles, looking away. His face is red again.

You look up at the sky, almost getting a face full of snow. “There’s no rain…?”

“Snow’s suitable though, right? Until we actually get some rain?” Linong asks, looking adorably awkward. You blush too, but you also place your other hand in his.

“Of course it is,” you say, leaning up.

The falling snow swirls around your faces, resting on your hair, his scarf, and both yours and his cheeks as Linong presses his lips to yours in one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever shared.

. . . . .

Baking cookies? Not such a good idea when your friends decide to come over and wreak havoc in the kitchen.

- - -

When you suggested baking cookies with Justin, you didn’t expect him to be this much of a mess.

“Even Linkai can follow directions!” you scold, taking the dough out of Justin’s hand. “And stop eating it, you could get sick!”

“But then I’d have you to nurse me back to health,” Justin points out.

“You’re learning too much from Lin Yanjun!” you snap, whirling around with the bowl. Your boyfriend just snakes an arm around your waist as he licks another bit of dough off of his finger. 

“Huang Minghao!” you yell, snatching the bowl away from him. “Stop eating the dough or there will be no cookies for you!”

His eyes widen in mock terror and he backs away, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!”

You sigh. “Didn’t you bet Zhengting that if you could get through a baking session without breaking anything, you’d choose what he had to wear on his next date?”

Justin nods eagerly, and you have to stop your heart from melting at the sight of the sparkle in his eyes. “Yeah! I’m going to make him wear that stupid gag gift Chengcheng sent me.”

“Jesus,” you say, spreading the dough out. “What did he ever do to you? No one should have to wear a sweater that ugly.”

Your boyfriend just shrugs.

“I’m dating an evil idiot,” you mutter, taking out the cookie cutters. “Here. Let’s cut the dough, and then after the cookies are baked we can decorate them, alright?”

“The best part!” Justin cheers.

“You better not eat all of the frosting,” you warn. “The cookies are already enough sugar for you!”

He sticks out his tongue. “No amount of sugar is enough sugar for Justin!”

“If you keep saying stupid stuff, I’m going to kiss you to shut you up.”

“Then I guess I better keep saying stupid stuff -”

Justin’s lips taste like cookie dough. As much as you hate to say it, the sweet flavor is appealing.

“Stop with the stupidity, Justin,” you say when you break away, leaving the boy somewhat shell-shocked and red-faced. “Now help me clear up. Don’t break anything, or else Zhengting’s going to make you wear that sweater to the Yuehua party!”

You eventually clean everything and get the cookies decorated without Justin breaking anything, but not before he sneaks in about a half dozen more kisses.

. . . . .

Your neighbor just walked out wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater you’ve ever seen. You think your eyes are bleeding, but somehow, he still looks… kind of cute.

- - -

“So, Zhengting,” you say amiably, hoping your eyes aren’t too wide with horror, “why are you wearing what you are wearing?”

Justin cackles from inside the apartment and you stifle a smirk. “Was it Justin’s fault?”

Zhengting sighs, eyes narrowed with disdain and helplessness. “Yeah,” he grumbles. “Lost a bet, so now I have to wear this shitty sweater Chengcheng sent him.”

“I hope Chengcheng got that as a gag gift, and not as a real gift,” you say, looking Zhengting up and down. “Ooookay, that’s it, that’s enough, my eyes are bleeding. I can’t look at you anymore. Take that thing off!”

“He’s not allowed!” Justin yells.

“You better let him change, Huang Minghao, or so help me I’ll return every single one of your Christmas gifts this year!” you yell back. “We can’t go on a date like this!”

“Yes you can!”

Zhengting sighs. “Let the kid have his fun,” he says resignedly, giving you a half smile. “It’s almost Christmas.”

“What happened to my strict boyfriend who didn’t put up with shit from Justin?” you gasp in mock surprise.

“He disappeared. Now let’s go out,” he says, taking your hand. ���Before Justin thinks of something even worse for you to wear.”

You snort. “He wouldn’t dare. Also, why is this sweater so scratchy?”

“Fan Chengcheng is the worst.” Zhengting shrugs.

“Well, it if helps, you still look kinda cute.” You give your boyfriend a wide smile. He just laughs.

“You look kinda cute too, I guess.”

. . . . .

Every year, you and your neighbor compete over who has the best Christmas decorations outside your house. It isn’t friendly competition. Last year, the kids were flocking over to your neighbor’s house, oohing and aahing over their sparkly lights, and this year, you’re determined not to lose.

- - -

“My decorations are better than yours this year,” you say smugly, watching the kids on your street stand transfixed by the sparkling lights.

Zhangjing huffs. “As if,” he mutters, looking salty.

“It’s the truth, Zhangjing.” You grin. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

Sweet, sweet victory. After two years of losing to your insufferable neighbor over your informal Christmas decoration competition… well, all you can say is victory is sweet.

The red and green lights illuminate Zhangjing’s sulky face and you have the sudden urge to pat his head like you would a small, whiny toddler. “Don’t be so sulky,” you coo.

“I’m not sulky!” Zhangjing snaps.

“Yes, you are. Also, it’s really cold now. Shouldn’t you be inside your house?” You look at him quizzically. “Why are you still out here?”

A small blush flits across Zhangjing’s cheeks. “Locked myself out,” he mumbles.

“You are a grown man, and you still managed to lock yourself out?” You snicker.

Zhangjing does not deign to reply.

“I can try to pick your lock,” you offer once your laughter subsides.

“Pick my lock?!”

You shrug. “Yeah. I used to be pretty good at picking locks until my friends forced me to stop.”

“For good reason,” Zhangjing mutters. “But yeah. You can give it a shot.”

“Cool, let’s go!” you cheer, fishing out a little bag of lock-picking tools from your pocket.

“Why do you have those in your pocket?”

You just grin in response.

- - -

You wiggle the pick inside the lock for a few seconds before looking up. “How come we do this every year? This stupid competition?”

Wind whistles through the air as Zhangjing does not respond.

“It’s weird,” you say, turning back to the lock. “No one ever put up lights on this block before I moved in. How come you did?”

Zhangjing mumbles something completely inaudible.

“What?”

“Yanjunmight’vesaidsomethingaboutgettingchristmaslightssothatyouwouldactuallynoticemebecauseithoughtyouwerecute.”

You blink. “What?”

Zhangjing huffs and smacks his head. “Why did I say anything,” he mumbles.

“Why’s your face so red?” you ask.

“It’s cold out!” he snaps defensively.

“My face isn’t that red… is it?” You shrug. “Anyway, didn’t catch what you said. Just Yanjun, Christmas lights, and… cute?”

A sigh of defeat rushes past your ear as you wiggle the lock pick around again. “When you moved in, I thought you were cute, so Yanjun suggested I get Christmas decorations to get your attention. And then it just evolved into some weird competition. Happy?”

“Uh, no?” you snap, standing back up. “If I’d known you thought I was cute, I would’ve asked you out like, two years ago!”

Dead silence. There isn’t even wind.

“In that case, unless you don’t think I’m cute anymore, I think we should go on a date tomorrow,” you say decisively, turning back to the lock. “I’ll come over at two!”

Snick. The lock opens. “And now your house is unlocked,” you say proudly. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The kiss you then press to his cheek leaves Zhangjing speechless.

. . . . .

You love winter, but winter hates you. Every year you get horrible seasonal allergies, complete with a stuffy nose, sneezes, and a rasping cough that drives away everyone within a fifty-foot radius. The only person who cares to stay near is your best friend, which is a little bit of an issue considering you have a sort of kind of massive crush on them.

- - -

“Toss me into a fire,” you mumble, sounding like you’ve got dirt in the back of your throat. “Everything hurts and I’m cold.”

No one hears you, of course. You’re alone.

“And now I’m talking to myself like the dumb, sick, idiot I am,” you mutter. “No wonder no one wants to be around me.”

And of course you’re being overdramatic again.

It’s not that no one wants to be around you normally. It’s just that no one wants to be around your germy, snotty, allergy-ridden self.

Winter is fun. Winter is great. Winter is awesome. You love winter, because it means presents, joy, snow, and time spent with loved ones.

But winter hates you. It always gifts you a stuffy nose and a loud, headache-inducing sneeze-cough that always comes just in time for the holidays, leaving you knocked out at home, taking multiple allergy medications in the hopes that you’ll be better in time for Christmas.

A loud sneeze racks your body, followed by a volley of coughs, and then you sink under your covers again. You sigh as deeply as you can without killing your throat.

Then someone knocks on the door.

Two seconds later, your phone buzzes.

Fan Chengcheng, December 12, 3:00 pm

Open the door!

You blink once, then twice. Why is Chengcheng here? When it’s clear you’re sick and dying?

You, December 12, 3:02 pm

are you trying to get yourself sick

Fan Chengcheng, December 12, 3:02 pm

Allergies aren’t contagious idiot

You, December 12, 3:03 pm

ya but the germs in my snot probably are

He just sends back a puking emoji followed by ‘just open the goddamn door.’

“God help me,” you mutter, rolling out of bed. You’ve wrapped your blanket around you like a burrito and you remain huddled in it, teeth chattering as you trudge through the cold apartment.

“Get inside,” you sniffle, shoving the tall boy inside before slamming the door shut. Even then, some of the cold seeps in, and you shiver underneath your blanket.

Chengcheng sets a bag down on your coffee table and raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d look this bad,” he says offhandedly.

A scowl spreads across your face. “If I wasn’t so sick, I’d punch you,” you rasp.

“Yeah, I know.” He sticks out his tongue. “But you are sick, so I have immunity. Well, for now.”

Huffing, you stomp on his foot, making him yelp more so in surprise than pain. “I’m going back to bed,” you mumble. “Do whatever you want, just don’t invite anyone over and don’t break anything. And don’t complain tomorrow if you wake up unable to breathe through a stuffy nose.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Chengcheng lifts you up, and you let out a strangled noise of surprise and embarrassment. Your face is hot and you pray that you can put it down to allergies if Chengcheng asks.

“Put me down!” you yell, the end of your command turning into a hacking cough.

“In your condition?” Chengcheng counters, nearly slamming your head into the doorframe. “No way.”

He almost knocks you into your bedroom wall. “You’re trying to kill me!” you snap.

“I would never!” he gasps, affronted, dumping you unceremoniously on the bed and placing a hand on his chest.

With effort, you roll over, covering yourself in the blanket. “Good night,” you mumble.

Chengcheng laughs, a small, quiet laugh that’s so uncharacteristic of his usual boisterous self that you’re confused for a moment. And then the bed dips as he settles on the mattress, and his hand goes to rest in your hair, and you really want to tell him to stop or he’ll get sick but the feeling is so soothing and calming that you really don’t want him to stop.

“Go to sleep,” he murmurs, carding a hand through your hair. “You’ll feel better.”

As you drift into dreamworld, you hear a faint murmur.

“If only we could stay like this forever.”

You want to answer, but sleep claims you before you can.

. . . . .

Presents are a must at Christmas time, no? But no matter what you get this year, there’s only one thing you really want: you want him to come home.

- - -

“Still moping?” Zhangjing asks, sighing through the phone.

You roll over in bed. “Leave me alone,” you mumble, words muffled by the pillow. “Let me mope in peace.”

“Do you want to come over and see my Christmas lights?” he offers.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Are you still having that competition with your neighbor?”

“About that…” Zhangjing coughs. “We’re kind of dating now?”

“WHAT?! HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?! I WANT ALL OF THE DETAILS!”

“I’ll tell you when I come over, just please stop screaming,” he begs.

“Fine. Her lights were better than yours though last time I saw,” you joke.

“That’s it, I’m never speaking to you again,” Zhangjing huffs. You can hear him shuffling things around on his end.

“No, no, I’m sorry, Zhangjing,” you relent, rolling over again. Silence takes over the call and your smile slips off of your face as you remember who isn’t coming home.

On the other end, Zhangjing curses. “Damn you, Lin Yanjun,” he complains. “Can’t even come home to be with your girlfriend for Christmas.”

“Be quiet, he’s just busy. And I’m just being an overdramatic idiot. I’ll get over it,” you assure him. The skeptical silence that follows tells you that Zhangjing is not reassured.

“Alright, enough of this. I’m coming over with some of the boys. Chengcheng can’t come though, his friend is sick and he’s taking care of her,” Zhangjing says in his no-nonsense voice. “I have cookies and we’ll cook and then we’re going to binge watch TV shows, got it?”

A slow smile spreads across your lips. “Thanks, Zhangjing.”

- - -

Once laughter is bouncing off of your walls, you don’t feel so lonely anymore. Justin’s and Linkai’s screams fill the rooms, and you find yourself smiling more widely than you thought you would.

“Feeling better?” Zhangjing asks over the yells in the kitchen. You nod and grin.

Soon, all the food is cooked and your tiny coffee table is creaking under the weight of all the dishes. The younger kids attack it all with a vengeance, though they’re sure to leave enough food for the “oldies.”

(“Who are you calling old?” Zhengting’s girlfriend snaps.

“Not you!” Justin yelps.)

You simply sit on the couch, watching from a distance. Seeing them all so happy warms your heart but at the same time, it just makes you remember who isn’t here.

“Dammit, Lin Yanjun,” you whisper, the smile slipping off your face.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Ziyi asks worriedly from across the room, trying to pick his way along the floor while Justin and Linkai wrestle wildly. At his words, though, they immediately stop, looking at you with wide eyes.

“I think Y/N needs a hug!” Justin announces, launching himself onto you. Linkai follows suit and you groan under their weight. “Help…”

Instead of them getting pulled off, though, more weight piles on, and pretty soon you’re buried under a mound of people. A tired sigh escapes your lips but at least you’re smiling. “Get off me!” you yell playfully. “I can’t breathe!”

In the second of silence that follows your declaration, there’s a loud knock on your door, followed by the doorbell.

“Who’s that?” you ask, wriggling out of the pile. “You think someone’s lost?”

“Maybe,” Ziyi says, shrugging. “I’ll go check.”

“Don’t get murdered on Christmas,” Justin quips.

“Murdered?” Linong asks worriedly.

“Joking, Nong, I’m joking.”

“Y/N, it’s something for you!” Ziyi yells.

Your eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “I thought packages weren’t delivered on Christmas?” you mumble to yourself.

“‘Something?’ What am I, not a human?”

You freeze.

“Y/N?” Ziyi pokes his head out of the corner to see you frozen. “Oh, there you are.”

“Is he actually here?” you squeak. “Like… I didn’t imagine that just now, right?”

Ziyi smiles. “He’s actually here.”

Two seconds later, you’ve knocked Yanjun into the doorframe with the force of your hug, but none of that matters because he’s home.

“Damn you,” you say, your words muffled by his jacket. “I hate you, Lin Yanjun!”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he says, patting your back. “Now can I come inside? It’s really cold out.”

You let him stumble inside and shut the door before wrapping him in a hug again. “I’m not letting you go,” you mumble.

“Not even to let me kiss you?” your boyfriend asks amusedly.

“Fine, I will make one exception.”

“KISS! KISS!”

“Remind me to slap Justin when this is over,” you say, letting Yanjun go briefly. He takes off his jacket and pulls you to him again as your arms go around his neck. He looks into your eyes with all the love in the world, and then he kisses you.

“I love you,” you murmur when you break away for air, “and I’m so glad you came back.”

“I love you too,” Yanjun says breathlessly before pulling you in again. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

[love-killed-the-superstar]

IT’S HERE!!! SOME DOMESTIC IRMA/CORNELIA GOODNESS TO HEAL YOUR SOULS, HAPPY FEMSLASH FEBRUARY

Title: The Frying Pan Conversation Pairing: Cornelia/Irma Chapter: 1 - road trips and stars Summary: “What, you mean you can't just up and introduce me as your banging girlfriend?” “No, Irma,” Cornelia said through gritted teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Because up until today they think I've been dating an aspiring future botanist from State U, not the girl who once snorted orange juice out of her nose during a Boy Comet marathon.” (Cornelia and Irma spend Christmas with the Hales.)

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13743063/chapters/31578714

Irma stared out of the window groggily as Cornelia took her sweet time loading two large suitcases and a handbag into the back of the car. She'd taken the liberty of shoving everything she needed into her signature teal suitcase and a tote bag with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles design on it, since it was to be expected that Cornelia would be bringing home so much junk for a two-week period.

A rapping of knuckles against the glass dragged her out of her daze, and she rolled down the window.

“Morning, Corny,” she drawled, rubbing one eye sleepily. “I've been driving since six and without the sweet remedy of coffee, so you'll have to take over until we hit the next pit stop.”

“As someone who had the sensibility to prepare coffee beforehand, I'll rise to that challenge,” Cornelia said with a smirk, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. She leaned down, planted a wet one smack in the middle of Irma's forehead, then yanked on the door handle. “Now get out so we can swap over.”

“Only because that was the darned cutest wake up call ever,” Irma agreed with a yawn, stepping out of the car and into Cornelia's arms. Her girlfriend was ready for the Heatherfield winter, in a moss green shawl and mulberry-coloured dirndl skirt. Her cute winter ankle boots, cuffed with faux fur the colour of soot, added an extra two inches, leaving Irma squinting up at her in bemusement. “Are you ever not wearing earth tones? And how am I supposed to kiss you back when I'm at eye level with your boobs?”

“You're creative, you'll figure something out,” Cornelia said lightly, far too chipper for so early in the morning. She spun Irma around, effectively taking her place beside the car, and plopped down in the driver's seat. Irma climbed onto her lap immediately despite protests.

“You're right, I did. I can finally get to your face.” Irma pulled her into a kiss, as messy as it was sleep-deprived, and grinned as she pulled back. “Course, I could have just kissed your tits instead.”

“Through this shawl?” Cornelia raised her eyebrows. “Nice try. It's cashmere.”

“Well, cash it in for some sweet Irma kisses, because they're incoming.” She puckered her lips for effect, and Cornelia hastily clapped a hand over her mouth. In the ongoing struggle, Irma's butt cheek leaned against the wheel, honking the horn twice before Cornelia forcibly pushed her into the passenger seat, giggling helplessly.

“Irma! I'm sure my neighbours don't want to be awoken by your butt on the steering wheel,” she chastised, but she was grinning from ear to ear. Irma rolled her eyes, still giggling like a fool, and fastened her seatbelt.

“Spoilsport. Anyway, I'm gonna catch some sleep, so no singing along to the alphabet song while I'm snoozing, okay?”

“Where you get the impression that I'd be listening to anything but classical, I'll never know,” Cornelia responded nonchalantly, grabbing her flask of coffee from the cup holder and offering it out to her. “Here, some coffee and a short nap and you'll be right as rain.”

Irma took a swig, spent the next few minutes complaining about Cornelia's shit taste in coffee, and curled up in the passenger seat, insisting on wearing Cornelia's cashmere shawl to snooze in.

“If you drool on it, I'm holding you accountable for dry-cleaning,” she warned, but her tone held no malice and Irma made a point to give it a wet kiss before curling up against the window and drifting off.

…

“Hey, you're getting spit on my shawl.”

Irma was nudged awake with a playful left hook to the chin, and she groaned as light seeped into her vision. The morning sun was already higher in the sky, and making its presence known by proceeding to blind her.

“Ugh, what time is it?” she groaned, shielding her eyes with one hand and wiping at her mouth with the other.

“Half ten. At this rate, we'll make it to my parents' cabin for mid-afternoon.” Cornelia climbed back into the driver's seat and thrust a wrapped sandwich into Irma's face. “Here, I picked you up a breakfast sandwich.”

Irma took in the scent of bacon and egg, and immediately her mouth began to water all over again.

“Oh man! Cornelia, have I ever mentioned what a goddess you are?”

“Once or twice,” she remarked with a smirk, unwrapping her own breakfast bagel. “Mostly after cunnilingus.”

“Cornelia Elizabeth Hale, that mouth!” Irma swatted at her arm playfully, before tucking into her sandwich. She eyed Cornelia's bagel. “You still veggie?”

“Yep,” she said distractedly. “Thinking of going vegan for my new year's resolution, but finding vegan alternatives in service stops seems like a pain.”

“You pansexuals and your crazy dietary choices,” Irma grumbled, an impeccable impression of her father, shaking her head. Cornelia grinned.

“That's a thing?”

“Read it on Twitter.”

“Oh, so you're stereotyping me now?”

“When don't I stereotype you, blondie?” Irma teased with a wink. “You do realise if you go vegan my dad is never gonna cook for you again? He puts cheese and butter in everything.”

“That's fine,” Cornelia said with a shrug. “I'm sure Anna will bend over backwards searching for vegan cookbooks. Chris will hate me for it, but he hates me anyway.”

“It's possible he doesn't hate you,” Irma countered. “He just doesn't like that he has to deal with two annoying big sisters now instead of just one.”

“An understandable dilemma,” Cornelia agreed. She took a few moments to finish her bite of bagel before continuing. “I'm sure it can't be easy knowing his sister's dating the hottest girl in the universe. He'll end up having to settle for less no matter what.”

“Narcissist. Anyway, since I came out my dad and Anna keep trying to land home the point with Chris. Like, 'if you bring a boy home instead of a girl, it's no biggie, okay?' Part of me thinks its endearing, but mostly I'm just offended that Chris is getting an easy ride and not taking full advantage of their newly opened minds.”

“Ah, well, he'd have to have those leanings in the first place to take advantage of them,” Cornelia pointed out, chewing thoughtfully. “And from the looks of things, Chris is as straight as a goal post.”

“I mean, he's thirteen and still thinks girls are gross, so there's hope yet.” Irma shrugged. “What about Lillian? Think she's gonna be psyched that you're dating me?”

“If disappointment could be a more powerful emotion, she'd probably be feeling that?” Cornelia suggested with a grin. “I mean... she got on pretty good with Peter. Who knows what she'll say to know I left Heatherfield's cutest surfer to date... Heatherfield's second cutest surfer.”

Irma balled up her wrapped and threw it at Cornelia with a scoff.

“Rude! And hey, I may not be beach hunk material, but I'm beach chunk, and that's a very attractive quality.”

Cornelia reached over to pinch Irma's cheek playfully.

“That's right. Peter could slice beef with that jawline. I much prefer these chubby cheeks.”

“You mock, but I have many selfies with lipstick-covered cheeks in my evidence locker,” Irma retorted. “You do love these chubby cheeks and I can prove it too!”

Cornelia leaned over and pressed a kiss to the cheek in question.

“You don't need to prove anything,” she replied, an impish grin on her face. Irma's eyes narrowed and she stretched across to kiss Cornelia squarely on the nose.

“Let's just agree that we're both adorable and call a truce. Got any of that disgusting coffee left?”

Cornelia reached into the cup holder and presented a brandless fair trade coffee cup proudly.

“Why waste my coffee on your ruined taste buds when I could just overload you with sugar instead?”

Irma clapped her hands against her cheek with a squeal, before gripping the coffee cup like a life preserve.

“Cornelia, you are an angel among women everywhere, you know that? The best girlfriend a girl could friend! Ellen and Portia who?”

“Your excitement over pit stop coffee is just a little bit sad.”

Irma shot her a glare that soon melted into a grin as she took a gleeful sip.

“You put in three sugars? Corny, now you're just spoiling me!”

“What can I say, I'm a renaissance woman.” She took a sip of her own coffee and buckled herself back in. “I don't mind driving for a bit longer, but we'll switch at lunch time, okay?”

“Dealio. Man, you're the coolest. Did you forget to pack the stick that's normally in your butt?”

“Don't push it, dear, or I'll throw your coffee out of the window.”

As Cornelia pulled out of the parking lot and onto the junction, Irma pulled the shawl a little tighter around her and sipped her coffee. She was gradually feeling like herself again, and not some subhuman creature who'd been stomping around since 5:30 that morning. Cornelia had on some kind of smooth jazz radio station, blasting that good and horny Dionne Warwick song that Cornelia put onto every custom playlist she sent to Irma, and Irma felt the need to shake up the momentum of the car a little. Wordlessly she plugged in her iPod and began switching through tracks.

“Irma!” Cornelia protested. “I was listening to that!”

“You mean you don't want to pop your pussy to Karmilla's latest single?” Irma asked, eyes popping in disbelief. “Man, you'll love her new stuff now she's publicly come out, it's like her entire discography suddenly makes ten times more sense in the context of the metaphysical closet.”

“Karmilla's gay?” Cornelia asked in disbelief. “Since when?”

“Bi,” Irma corrected. “Since like, last March? How is this news to you?”

“Ahh. I don't know, I'm still stuck on Dionne Warwick after all this time.”

“Fair enough. Well my darling Corny, in fifty years when you catch up with contemporary music again, give Karmilla's upcoming album a listen, so far it's really angsty and gay. And also uplifting and gay.” “Sounds like a blast.”

Irma scrolled to Karmilla's latest song, Claim To Closet Fame, and let the first few bars wash over them in a blissful silence.

Then she started wailing about kissing down a woman's chest in a darkroom, and Cornelia grimaced.

“Her passion is a bit scary.”

Irma shrugged.

“Passion is passion, babe.”

“So,” Cornelia said quickly, not wanting to press the issue of their clashing music tastes any further, “this is going to be a very important winter break.”

“Uh huh.” Irma sat up a little straighter. “Our darling Cornelia's ready to jump out of the closet and scare her parents half to death over an awkward dinner where they'll be paranoid she's gonna tell them she's pregnant or dying or flunking her degree instead of just making the frying pan joke over a face-time call and being done with it.”

With a deep sigh through her nose, Cornelia pushed her hair back. “It's not that simple. First is the idea of explaining pansexuality to my parents, who by the way, still think there's only two sexual orientations and being bisexual is a one-foot-out-of-the-closet situation. So brace yourself for that.”

“Noted. Go on.”

“Then we'll have to go through the stages of my parents asking if they did something wrong, if I've been in a toxic relationship, if I'm just confused, and all of that fun stuff. And they'll say, 'Peter is such a nice boy, why would you choose to be gay?' which brings us right on back to point one.”

“So this will be a circular conversation. Understood.”

“And then, finally, we'll tell them that we're in a relationship. But I need them to understand my identity first and foremost, Irma. You can understand.”

Irma shrugged. As far as coming out had gone, being gay and dragging Cornelia along to Heatherfield Pride as her girlfriend had been one and the same, but she got the jist.

“What, you mean you can't just up and introduce me as your banging girlfriend?”

“No, Irma,” Cornelia said through gritted teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Because up until today they think I've been dating an aspiring future botanist from State U, not the girl who once snorted orange juice out of her nose during a Boy Comet marathon.”

“No fair, that was one time and I was thirteen!” protested Irma, throwing up her hands in disbelief. “You can't hold that over me forever!”

“I don't, but they'll remember because it was my mother's couch that had orange juice stains on that never quite went away,” Cornelia pointed out tiredly. Irma groaned dramatically and flopped back in her seat, hand thrown over her face.

“Are they ever gonna approve of me being your girlfriend?” she grumbled. “I don't fancy marrying into a family that thinks I'm some good-for-nothing slob.”

“Of course they don't think that!” Cornelia said quickly, switching lanes to let a FedEx van pass. “Sure, they probably aren't expecting mystery botanist guy to be... well, you. But once they get over the fact that you're a woman, I'm sure things will settle down! I mean, my mother can be a little critical, but Lillian is just as messy as you, if not worse, and my dad adores her. Besides, he finds your jokes funny.”

“That's because he doesn't know I'm banging his daughter!” Irma exclaimed, huffing. Cornelia blushed a little and rolled her eyes.

“You're being ridiculous. First of all, my parents don't need to know we're having sex.”

“Oh yeah, because that isn't immediately the conclusion they'll jump to when you tell them since we're supposed to be sharing a pull out couch for the trip!”

“We didn't just immediately jump into sex when we got together, if you recall,” Cornelia continued, eyes trained on the road ahead. “I'm sure my parents won't mind us sharing the couch. Besides, I doubt we'd be able to without breaking it, that thing is horribly flimsy.”

“I'm amazed our darling princess Cornelia hasn't protested against the couch more,” Irma remarked, shooting her a playful look. “Remember when we went on vacation together that one summer? We had to force you into a sleeping bag!”

“The guest bedroom only has a single bed, which Lillian is taking, and they weren't expecting us to join them over winter break, so it was the couch either way.”

“Well, when we go on to my place after the first week, we can share my bed. Dad and Anna made me tidy up my room, you'll be pleased to know, and Anna sat me down for a talk about 'being safe, even with a girl'. Which was super fun, by the way.”

Cornelia snorted out a laugh.

“Your cop dad isn't gonna arrest me for propositioning his daughter, is he?”

“Part of him was relieved, actually,” Irma recalled with a gleeful expression. She cleared her throat, doing her best Tom Lair impression. “'I can't say I'm not surprised, but a woman will treat you properly. Men can be animals.' Honest to god, he said that. As if you're the most pristine girl in Heatherfield.”

“He's only relieved because you had such bad taste in men,” Cornelia replied, mouth crinkling upwards mischievously. “I've had the pleasure of getting to know a few gentlemen in my time.”

“Yeah, well, there's a reason I had such bad taste in guys, you know!” Irma retorted. “Every time one would so much as smile at me I got the wrong end of the stick, little did I know.”

“All tall beautiful blondes,” Cornelia mused. Her smile broke out into a grin as bright as the sun outside, and she clasped the wheel with new energy. “My my, Irma Lair, you sure do have a type, don't you?”

Irma blushed to the roots of her hair.

“Oh, come on! This is – this is bullying, harassment, defamation-”

“It's the truth! Remember Andrew Hornby?”

“Oh my god, please don't bring up Andrew Hornby at a time like this.”

Cornelia's eyes twinkled with mischief. “What was it now? You almost exposed yourself as a guardian by sneaking out to a party transformed, wooed Andrew Hornby, and when he tried making a move on you...”

“If you finish this story, I swear to god-”

“That's right! You turned him into a frog!”

Irma, face bright red, butted her head against the window in defeat.

“I'll turn you into a frog if you don't put a sock in it, Corny!”

As their playful bickering continued, Cornelia's phone started to buzz.

“Irma, get that for me,” she ordered, eyes trained on the road.

“Sure, your highness,” Irma drawled, rolling her eyes and reaching for Cornelia's sleek rose gold smartphone. She unlocked it with ease (Irma's birthday, could this girl get any lamer?) and the screen lit up. “Hay Lin's calling.”

“Patch her through, I guess. And put her on speaker!”

Irma swiped and held the phone up, rolling down the window a crack to let some breeze in. The cold was biting, instantly earning a complaint from Cornelia, but it just felt like another authentic piece of Hay Lin that Irma wanted in the car with them at that moment.

“Hey guys! Are you there yet? And is that Karmilla I hear?”

Claim To Closet Fame was on its third loop.

“We still have about four hours to go,” Cornelia supplied, “and Irma, change the damn track already.”

Irma switched it over to the B-side track, Sensual Orientations.

“Hay Lin, I'd just like to announce how hurt I am that you called Cornelia first when I'm your top contact,” Irma declared, hoping her pout could be heard down the phone.

“Irma, I tried your phone but you never picked up!” Hay Lin retorted. There was some shuffling, and her voice sounded slightly further away than before. “Bear with me, I'm moving boxes.”

Irma fished around for her phone, noting the three missed calls with a heavy sigh.

“You're right. I'm just a terrible friend.”

“Nope, you're just terrible at leaving your phone off of silent.”

“Your hidden pink is a weapon; So shoot me into heaven,” sang Karmilla.

“Irma, is this one about sex too?” Cornelia complained.

“Just wait until you get to the pussy rap, Cornelia,” cackled Hay Lin from down the line. “Me and Irma have been practicing in our free time.”

“If we get that far I'll hang up,” Cornelia warned, shaking her head in dismay.

Irma stuck her tongue out, before gleefully turning her attention back to the phone.

“So what's this call about anyway, Hay Lin?”

“I thought you could use a practice model for when you and Cornelia make your big announcement!” Hay Lin chirped. “If Cornelia's parents are as hard to convince as I've been told.”

“When they find out the first thing they'll ask is which one of us is the man in the relationship,” Cornelia deadpanned. Hay Lin burst out laughing.

“Well, of course they're gonna assume it's me,” Irma grumbled, “just because I wear sports bras and read comic books and can burp up to F in the alphabet.”

“Well, hit me with your perfectly crafted coming out speech,” Hay Lin interrupted cheerfully, with a thump as she lowered the boxes. “I'll give you a worst case scenario so you'll feel better!”

“This is never gonna work,” Irma giggled.

“I'm not doing this.”

“Come oooooon,” Hay Lin whinged, and Irma joined in. “Do iiiiit.”

“Fine, fine!” Cornelia exhaled. “Ugh, here goes. Mother, Father, I've been meaning to say this for a while. I'm pansexual. It means that I, that I feel attraction so people regardless of their gender.”

Hay Lin cleared her throat, impersonating Harold Hale to the best of her ability. “Preposterous! Which one's the man and which is the woman, my darling Cornelia?!”

Irma snorted.

“Why would he be asking that if he doesn't know Cornelia's boning me yet?” Irma pointed out.

“Irma!” snapped Cornelia.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hay Lin apologised, undeterred. “Got into the part too much. Let me try again. Ahem. Cornelia, what does this mean? Are you saying you're a... a lesbian?!”

“This is painful,” complained Cornelia. “I refuse to take this any further.”

“So you are a lesbian??”

“Hay Lin!”

“Aw, I'm only teasing,” Hay Lin said cheerily, unapologetic. “They'll be fine once they get past the initial shock of it all. I mean, it's the 21st century! Times are changing! And for all you know, they could be really chill. I mean, my parents used to hate me watching Hell's Kitchen but now they tune into it with me!”

“That's not the same thing and you know it, Hay Lin!” Cornelia snapped. She huffed and took a moment to compose herself. “Anyway, you're probably right. I'm sure things will sort themselves out after the initial shock, and then-”

“Stop, stop!” Irma interrupted suddenly, waving her hand around. Cornelia frowned, eyes darting between her girlfriend and the road ahead.

“What are you-”

“You feel it in your pussy like I feel it in my bones! You investigate my labia like Sherlock Holmes!” chorused Irma and Hay Lin at a deafening volume, as Karmilla began to belt out her rap verse.

“No,” Cornelia snapped. “No, no, we're not doing this, guys, we're not doing this!”

“When you're kissing down my thighs I never felt so high, so do whatever you please, 'cause when I cum I'm gonna fly!”

“ENOUGH!!”

…

The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky as they pulled up the driveway, not quite sunset yet. After exhausting Karmilla's album Cornelia had switched it to some station playing cheesy 90s hits, which had resulted in a passionate sing-along born out of pure nostalgia for childhood road trips as Irma had taken over the final stretch in the driver's seat.

She awkwardly parked behind Mr Hale's chevy camaro, the speakers blaring out the last few lines of Breakfast At Tiffany's as they sat stationary. Her own car felt a little redundant in comparison.

“Your dad has good taste,” Irma said with a wolf-whistle. “How come he hasn't bought you a car yet?”

“He's waiting for my birthday,” Cornelia said with a shrug. “I told him I was interested in a prius. Mom told him that was too pricey for my first car, of course.”

“You have your dad wrapped around your finger, he'll hand it over to you gift-wrapped.” Irma leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek, and instinctively Cornelia moved away.

“Irma, please,” she said quietly, a sigh just beyond her lips. “We... we have to be careful.”

Irma rolled her eyes and leaned against the steering wheel.

“I know. Just, don't leave it too late, okay? The sooner you rip off the band-aid the better. At least they'll have the whole of Christmas to get over it, y'know?”

Cornelia nodded, reaching across to squeezed Irma's arm.

“Shall we do this?”

“Christmas break with the Hales,” Irma drawled. “Can't wait.”

Cornelia's parents looked poised and stylish as ever when they answered the door, and Harold wasted no time in sweeping Cornelia up into a tight hug while Elizabeth smiled and nodded poliely at Irma.

“Oh, how have you been, sweetheart?” Harold asked, rocking her a little in his arms. “Any trouble getting here? Feeling all right?”

“Dad, I'm fine,” Cornelia insisted, pulling away slowly. “And the journey went smoothly. Irma picked me up on time and we didn't hit any traffic.”

“Good, that's good.” He patted her shoulder as Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

“They're both over twenty now, dear, perfectly capable of getting here in one piece. It's good to see you, Irma. Please allow us to pay you for the fuel, ferrying our daughter over here.”

Irma opened her mouth, but Cornelia cut in quickly.

“Mother, that isn't necessary!”

“Hey, I want some money back if it's up for grabs,” Irma hissed in her ear.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No no, I insist. It's so lovely of you to join us. I was a little worried all of your school friends would be tagging along. We wouldn't have the room, frankly.” Irma glanced at Cornelia.

“They were busy,” Cornelia said quickly. She shifted the suitcase she was holding and Harold instinctively reached for it. “Will and Taranee are studying and Hay Lin's helping her parents.”

“And mystery botanist man couldn't join?” Harold asked with a wink, hoisting the case out of her arms.

Cornelia blushed, refusing to look at Irma, and hurriedly choked out, “No, he could not!”

“Oh Harold, don't tease,” Elizabeth scolded, as he heaved the suitcase inside. “Come inside now, girls, it's chilly out.”

Irma drank in the sight with eyes as wide as saucers. The Hales had a swish set up, the cabin rustic yet elegant, with creams and cornflower blues somehow blending seamlessly with rich reds and golds. It sure beat the beach cabin she and her family visited every summer, that much was for sure. Her dad had a habit of hanging up those dumb singing fish plaques, as opposed to the deer head as a proud centrepiece in the Hales family cabin.

“This place is amazing,” Irma breathed.

“It's something, all right,” Cornelia sighed, a little off put by the hunting trophy herself. “Was that a gift from Uncle Edward, Dad?”

“Sure was! You know what they called me whenever my old man took us hunting? Tree Hugger Harold,” her father said with an awkward chuckle. “Could never bring myself to pull the trigger, myself. He spent a few days here before we made the journey, so we haven't had the chance to take it down yet...”

“Don't take it down, it's cool!” interrupted Lillian, dashing out of the guest bedroom with a scarf in hand. “I want to make him wear this when we decorate!”

“That isn't very tasteful, Lillian,” Elizabeth chastised, but Harold let out a hearty laugh and scooped her up into his arms.

“I suppose he won't have any complaints, will he?”

“You ever heard a disembodied deer head bitch about wearing a snowman scarf?” Irma muttered to Cornelia, who stifled a guffaw behind her hand. She waved hesitantly at Lillian. “Hey there, Lil.”

Lillian gave back a mechanical wave.

“Hi Irma.”

As usual, they had nothing to say to each other. Irma scratched the back of her head awkwardly.

After a beat of awkward silence, Cornelia pulled her over to one side.

“Here, let me take your coat.”

“Your sister is as sociable towards me as always,” Irma joked, shimmying out of her jacket and leaning into Cornelia's touch for a few moments before moving back.

“She's doing that teenager thing where she hates talking to anyone who isn't behind a gaming headset,” Cornelia remarked, hanging the jacket up beside the coats of the other family members. It felt a little like assimilation into the lives of the Hales, and filled Irma with a strange sense of gratitude, even if at the end of the day it only boiled down to them saving a hook for her coat. “Chris must be like that too?”

“Yeah, but he's been that way since he was eight,” pointed out Irma, shaking her head. “Every time I try and worm a conversation out of him he tells me he's busy. You know the PS4 was a gift for both of us?”

Cornelia cracked a grin and pinched Irma's cheek playfully.

“You poor thing. We'll reclaim it when we go to yours, Alchemy mentioned she lent you a few games that I'd enjoy too.”

“Yeah! You like horror, right? There's Until Dawn, Outlast... oh man, and The Evil Within! That one's gory!”

“I don't know about that...”

…

“So, I noticed this place is devoid of decorations,” Irma commented, as they set about laying the table. Dinner was almost ready, and Cornelia's parents were insistent on taking care of the cooking for tonight since they had spent the day driving.

“They have a thing about it being unlucky to decorate unless we're all helping,” Cornelia explained with a sigh, distributing the silverware to each place mat. “We'll start on it tomorrow.”

“Cutting it a little close, don't you think?”

“I wanted to put up the tree days ago but Dad wouldn't let me,” Lillian huffed, sitting herself down and throwing her napkin across her lap before whipping out her phone. She began furiously texting, and Cornelia and Irma exchanged wry smiles.

“I did tell them that they didn't have to wait,” Cornelia said with a shrug, as they took their seats beside one another. “It's not my fault Mom and Dad are superstitious.”

“Wouldn't have pegged them as the type,” Irma remarked. She laced her fingers through Cornelia's, carefully obscured by the tablecloth, and flashed her a cheeky grin. “You don't take after them much, do you, Corny?”

Cornelia squeezed her hand firmly, holding her gaze.

“We lead different lives,” she said simply.

Elizabeth and Harold swept in briskly, setting down dishes of marinated cabbage, roast potatoes and a large portion of roast beef (as if an afterthought, Elizabeth hurriedly brought out a plate of vegetarian sausages for Cornelia). Harold poured everyone a glass of wine, and Irma couldn't help but wonder how Cornelia's parents kept up the gig of acting sophisticated all the time, even in the comfort of their own home.

They murmured a few words of thanks, before plating everyone up.

“So Irma, you're doing a teaching degree?” Elizabeth asked politely, as the family began to tuck in.

“Er, that's right. Not sure what subject I want to teach yet, maybe math or geography...”

“I think that will suit you marvellously,” Harold praised, in between bites of cabbage. “Teachers do far more than set homework, you know. They inspire! They set you upon your life path! Why, if I hadn't had such a passionate math tutor as a young man...”

Irma tuned out, glancing over at Cornelia. They'd gone over her plan multiple times during the drive, to the point where it was practically scripted, but as they sat there munching on potatoes, it became painfully obvious that Cornelia was frozen to the spot, wanting to cling to this moment of her parents' blissful ignorance for as long as she could. It wasn't like she could reach over to hold her hand with Elizabeth watching them both like a hawk, anyway. All she could do at this point was try and push Cornelia in the right direction.

“...and I simply wouldn't be the man I am today if I hadn't followed his advice and gone to the college he'd suggested,” Harold finished with a proud smile.

“Well, the college I'm attending isn't prestigious or anything, but I'm doing pretty well,” Irma said sheepishly, taking a sip of wine. It was dry and bitter, clinging to her tongue like sandpaper.

“That's what counts, my dear. And Cornelia, my sweet girl! How are your classes going? And how is your mystery chap?”

“About that,” Irma began, glancing over at Cornelia nervously.

“Classes are going well,” Cornelia said quickly. “And... he's, um... he's doing well, too.”

Irma gaped at her.

“Well, that's good,” Elizabeth murmured. “Though I do wish you'd tell us more about him. His age? Does he work?”

“We've only been out a few times,” Cornelia said quickly. “There's not much to tell.”

“Is he a good kisser?” Lillian piped up with a sly grin.

“Lillian!” Cornelia snapped.

“Well, talking to you about your boyfriend is like pulling teeth!”

“Stop arguing, you two!”

As the bickering continued, both parents intervening, Irma miserably chewed through her food, knowing the topic wouldn't be broached tonight.

…

After the plates had been cleared and Lillian had retreated to her room, Irma and Cornelia took to sitting out on the porch, staring up at the stars that were so much clearer than from the Heatherfield cityscape. It was freezing out there, their breath visible in puffs, but there was something tranquil about it too. As an added bonus, Cornelia knew her parents wouldn't be able to stand the cold and would grant them some privacy.

“Hey, Corny. I love you.”

Cornelia's eyes flickered over to Irma. She was looking pretty frost-bitten, with only a thin blanket thrown over her lap and cradling a cup of cocoa like a lifeline, but her eyes were filled with a tender warmth that had Cornelia melting instantly.

“Even though I didn't follow through like I promised?” she said softly, self-doubt creeping in as the winter stars twinkled overhead. Irma scoffed.

“Honey, I know a thing or two about how hard it is to say it to your parents. You gotta take it at your own pace.”

“I'll do it tomorrow,” Cornelia promised, mouth pulled into a resolute grimace. “I won't back down.”

“Simmer down, earth guardian, this isn't like going to battle against some otherworldly lizard villain,” Irma teased. “Do this when you're ready, not because you feel like you owe me.” She paused. “Of course, that's something else I love about you. You tackle everything with the same determination. Cramming for exams, kicking alien butt, giving me hickeys...”

“Irma, that was one time!” she admonished, face pink with indignation. She lowered her gaze, cheeks pinkening from more than the cold. “Where's this all coming from?”

Irma shrugged.

“Not sure, really. Could be my heart, but then, my clit's aching, so...”

“Irma!” Cornelia squeaked, reaching over to shove her playfully. Irma erupted into giggles, pushing caramel curls away from her face.

“Hey, I've been waiting months to see you again, and you're telling me we can't even have sex for another week because the fucking camp bed won't be able to stand it. You can't blame me for feeling horny.”

“Self control, please?” Cornelia huffed, but she was smiling. “My parents could be listening in for all you know.”

“Your dad is helping himself to some scotch and your mom is watching Law and Order,” Irma pointed out, rolling her eyes. “I think we're safe.”

“My mother's so nosy, she'll be checking up on us any minute now,” Cornelia continued, taking a sip of cocoa. “Anyway, I love you too. Not that you need reminding.”

“Hey, you're hard to read sometimes,” Irma defended. “And anxiety can be a real bitch. I'm one of those needy types who craves constant validation, you know how it is.”

Cornelia pulled a face.

“Constant validation? I'm not qualified enough. You'll have to demand it from me or I'll never remember to say anything at all.”

“The hell kind of girlfriend are you?” Irma uncrossed her legs and stuck her foot out from beneath the blanket to lightly nudge Cornelia's knee. “Be nice to me, my self-esteem is shit.”

“Though why, I can't imagine,” Cornelia said softly, shaking her head. “I mean, you're beautiful, you're intelligent, you have a wonderful sense of humour, aside from being annoying and inappropriate at times... there's just so many things to like. I can't understand why you'd devalue yourself.”

Irma rested her chin in her hand dreamily. “Well, hot damn. This is why I need you complimenting me all the time, you're a fucking natural at it.”

Cornelia blushed. “It's hardly my fault you're so easy to compliment, is it?”

“Even when you're sassing me it's complimentary,” Irma exclaimed in disbelief, snorting.

She scooted her chair closer to Cornelia's, almost spilling her cocoa in the process, if not for the advantage of Cornelia's telekinesis on their side keeping it in check. She threw the blanket over the both of them and rested her head against Cornelia's shoulder.

“I will tell them,” Cornelia said gently, as they stared up at the sky of stars. “It's not that I'm ashamed of you, Irma. It's just... harder than I thought it would be, now I'm face to face with them.”

“For the last time, Corny, you don't gotta justify yourself,” Irma scolded, pulling her in closer. “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I got worked up over something like this? You said it yourself, this is about you, not just our relationship. So stop beating yourself up every two seconds just because you're not sticking to the plan, it's the first damn day!”

Cornelia huffed out a laugh and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Irma's head.

“I love you, dork.”

“I love you, blondie.”

As they huddled under the blanket, basking in the crispness of the cold night air, Elizabeth peered at them through the window. She opened her mouth to speak, but something compelled her to stay silent. Instead she watched, with uncomfortable curiosity, as Irma and Cornelia's hands clasped together.

Wordlessly, she left them to it.

[occasionalfics]

Vuelie, part i

So about three years ago, I was obsessed with Frozen. Enough to write fanfic. Instead of reblogging it, I’m reposting it because it’s entirely in read-mores on my main blog. It’s basically a novella at 96 Microsoft Word pages and about 28,000 words in total. Here’s the first chapter.

Rating: idk like it’s pretty clean or what have you

Summary: It’s the big day - the first Royal wedding Arandelle’s seen since Anna and Elsa’s parents’. Anna’s emotions are running high, but Elsa, for a change, seems to be keeping cool. *wink wink*

~~

Elsa was tired of hearing what dignitaries expected she must be feeling. Sure, her younger sister was getting married first, and sure, she was the lonely Ice Queen, but that mattered little to her. She was happy for Anna and Kristoff, gleeful at the sight of the perfect white wedding gown that had been designed just for her sister, and delighted that the kingdom was coming together again as one unit as they had under their father’s rule.

           She so was irritated by being told, “It must be so hard to see your younger sister marry before you,” that her normal response was, “Actually, it couldn’t be easier.” She simply didn’t understand why others, having known the terror that’d stricken her when she’d thought Anna was dead, thought she was jealous or exceedingly angry. Anna was happy and she was alive. That was all Elsa could ask for.

           When the day came, Elsa was woken up the way she’d been when she and Anna were small girls: Anna pulled the curtains to Elsa’s window open and screamed as she jumped onto her sister’s bed. Elsa groaned. In place of Anna’s laughter and begging to build a snowman, she screamed again: “I’m getting married!”

           Elsa smiled. Anna stretched out over her sister and sighed, the way she had when she was about three or four and told Elsa that the sky was awake and so was she. She said, “Elsa I’m getting married today,” in a rather rushed, nervous tone. Anna turned over and peeked around Elsa’s shoulder, almost pushing her nose against her sister’s.

           “Elsa,” she repeated, “I’m getting married today.”

           Elsa couldn’t tell if Anna looked terrified or ecstatic. Possibly both, she figured.

           “Yes you are,” Elsa agreed, struggling to get most of Anna’s weight off of her. Her younger sister rolled off and laid next to Elsa so that they faced one another. Both of them were still in their nightgowns, Anna’s a pale grassy green and Elsa’s a light blue, both befitting of their persons.

           “I’m really getting married,” Anna repeated again. Elsa giggled slightly and briefly wished they’d had more moments like this, especially now that she was about to give her sister away to her future brother-in-law.

           “That’s not going to change no matter how many times you say it,” she responded. Anna just stared at Elsa quietly for a few long seconds.

           “What if-“ she started.

           “Don’t even go there,” Elsa cut in. “Today is not the day to be playing the ‘What if?’ game. Everything will be perfect, I promise.” She moved some hair away from Anna’s bright, wide blue eyes that almost exactly matched her own, then pushed herself into a sitting position. She smiled once more at Anna before sliding off the bed and heading to the open doors.

           “Dagny,” Elsa called down the hall. Within seconds, a plump, round woman turned the corner with a simple curtsey. “Tell the others that Princess Anna is awake and ready to get ready.” Dagny curtsied once more, then turned around and headed back down another hallway.

           When she turned back to Anna, she almost doubled over laughing.

           “What?” Anna asked, sitting up. Elsa leaned against the doorpost and held her stomach. “What is so funny?” her sister asked again.

           When she regained enough composure, Elsa pushed herself up and walked to her sister. She picked her pristine, hand-carved hairbrush off of the bedside bureau. She attacked Anna’s hair with it, knowing that if she hadn’t, she would’ve had a huge struggle trying to tame the light brown locks.

           “You have a major case of bed-head, honey,” she said in the most big-sister manner she could. The two of them giggled together as Elsa brushed out all the knots she could find. Before she was done, there was a knock on the door, but since been they’d left open, Dagny trotted in with a huge smile on her face.

           “Excuse me your highnesses, but we have the dress,” she said in a quaint voice. Elsa nodded.

           “Bring it in,” he said with a grin. She turned so that she could brush the side of Anna’s hair and so that Anna could see as two servants brought in the dress, as to keep it from scraping against the floor. Elsa put the brush down and turned to Dagny. “Would you mind helping me?” she asked gracefully. The older woman shook her head and followed her queen to the closet across the room. Inside was a wooden mannequin that was nothing more than the silhouette of a woman with a head, and a post at the bottom that connected it to a round base. Elsa beckoned it out of the closet carefully, and she and Dagny felt the cool burst of air that blew towards them as the mannequin moved.

           They carried it together across the room and set it at the end of the bed, and as Elsa hurried to close the large doors to her bedroom, the other two servant women unbuttoned the back of the dress and carefully, with Dagny’s help and direction, on the mannequin. A few of the back buttons were done up again and for a few seconds, all the women in the room were silent.

           The dress was beautiful and simple, but even on the mannequin, it had all the best part of Anna’s personality. The high neck was a white, sheer material, as were the sleeves. The bodice was a red corset with a dark pink filigree pattern, lined with a light silver, shiny material that wrapped around the shoulders in an elegant way; the silver material also lined the waist of the dress, connecting the skirt to the bodice. Just below the silver was a small frilly red piece, then the white skirt separated into four sections by three wide red stripes. The dress was as far from Elsa’s taste as she could imagine, but not in a bad way. It fit Anna’s style perfectly; it was fun and beautiful, and there was a warmth about it that reminded every woman in the room of Anna.

           “It’s gorgeous,” the younger sister said, leaning against the metal bedframe. She was staring at the small red charm that hung from a slim silver chain that Dagny had just placed on the mannequin. Elsa watched as Anna inspected every detail of the dress, then looked at the other two servant women.

           “Where’s the crown?” she asked simply. The women looked at one another, then one of them hurried off out of the room.

           “Do I really need a crown?” Anna asked. “I mean everyone knows I’m, well, me, so do I need to make it clearer-“

           “Yes,” Elsa and Dagny answered at once. Elsa glanced at Dagny; Dagny smiled at Elsa; Anna looked between the both of them and sighed. Elsa continued, “Anna, it’s tradition. You’re getting married – this is a royal wedding.”

           “I know,” Anna replied. “But I feel bad parading around in front of Kristoff like that because he-“

           “He has a title, and you know it.”

           “It’s not the same.”

           “That never bothered you before,” Elsa said, sounding a bit more defensive than she meant to. She could feel the tips of her fingers start to freeze over as she put her hands on her hips.

           Anna seemed to be holding her breath. She looked like she might retort, but after a few quiet seconds, she let out her breath and lowered herself a bit.

           “You’re right. Besides, Kristoff is marrying me, not Princess Anna.”

           Dagny looked as if she were completely lost in this conversation, but Elsa calmed and put a smile back on her face.

           “Exactly. He’s not looking for a title. He’s probably not even interested in the dress, as long as you’re the one wearing it down that aisle.”

           Anna smiled and straightened a bit, then leaned over the metal bedframe to hug Elsa. The embrace was returned, and just as the sisters leaned back, the door opened with the third servant woman. She was out of breath but cheerful, and she held the crown up with one hand as she closed the door with the other.

           “Shall we get started?” Elsa asked.

           With smiles all around, they did. Two more servant women came through the door with brushes, clips, underskirts, stockings, and a pair of black shoes. All the fuss was over Anna, who had Elsa finish brushing her hair until it was smooth and silky again, and then let the servant women help both of them into their dresses. They sat side by side on Elsa’s bed as Dagny put Elsa’s hair into a tight braid and one of the other women put Anna’s into an equally tight bun that was then wound up on the top-back section of her head. Elsa pushed the small golden crown into Anna’s hair carefully, then stepped back, and smiled. She felt her eyes well up and her breath catch.

           “You’re so beautiful, Anna,” she said. In a quick motion, she had stepped back towards Anna and wrapped her arms around her little sister, crying gently into her neck. Anna was warm and easy to hold onto, but Dangy tapped Elsa lightly on the shoulder and interrupted the embrace.

           “I hate to break up this lovely sight, your grace,” she started, “but the Princess’s dress in sensitive to the touch.”

           Elsa squeezed her sister once more, then stood back again. Anna wiped tears away from Elsa’s face, smiling all the while.

           “I have to go tell the guards to start letting the guests in, but I’ll be back,” Elsa said. Anna nodded and Elsa gave her one last loving glance before walking around the bed to the doors. She gave one last look over her shoulder and watched as Anna nodded at something Dagny had said, then closed the doors behind her and headed down the hall.

           When she found the guards at the front of the castle, she smiled gently at them and said, “Please send the word to start seating the guests. Princess Anna will be ready momentarily, so please also have our carriage readied.” Both guards nodded and saluted their queen with a simultaneous chanting of, “Of course, your Majesty.”

           Instead of returning to Anna right away, Elsa wandered the halls of the palace until she found the giant, gold-framed portrait of her parents. The black curtain that had been put over the portrait when they passed was pulled back on her orders, seeing as it was a beautiful day full of love and celebration. She didn’t want her parents, even inanimate versions of them, behind a black cloth. It seemed fitting to let them see the light today.

           She smiled up at her mother and father and tried to remember them from when she was young. Her last memory of them was when they had left for the wedding at Corona, a journey from which they had never returned. That was not the thought Elsa wanted to have today. She wanted to picture her father smiling at his girls, her mother picking flowers with her and Anna behind the drawing room. So she did, and because of it, she felt a warmth in her heart that she only felt anymore when she had long, wonderful talks with the sister she’d missed out on for years.

           Unfortunately, being the queen of Arendelle meant those talks were few and far between. She had other duties to adhere to, but she wasn’t really worried about leaving Anna on her own anymore now that her sister had Kristoff. Even indirectly, he helped being Queen easier on Elsa.

           Her thought was broken when a servant named Vidar cleared his throat from behind her. Elsa turned as Vidar bowed. When he straightened, he said, “Your carriage is ready, your Highness.” Elsa’s smile shortened just a bit as she thanked Vidar, then headed from one corridor to the next until she reached Anna’s room.

           She knew that she and Anna had gotten ready in her own room, but Elsa thought her sister might have returned to her room for comfort, knowing that her own belongings were there. When she knocked, no answer was given. Elsa opened the doors and peered into the empty room, then closed the doors again and headed towards her own room.

           On the way, she ran into Dagny, now in her own dress clothes. “Dagny,” she called, “Is Anna still in my bedroom?”

           Dagny nodded. “I do believe so, your Highness. But shouldn’t the two of you have left by now?” she asked. Elsa stood shocked for a moment, not realizing until then how long she had been looking at the portrait of her parents.

           “Make sure the rest of the staff makes it to the church, Dagny,” Elsa instructed. The plump lady nodded and curtsied, then turned to find any other servants. Elsa headed down the corridor to her room, and when she reached for the knob, she realized it was locked. She tried to open the doors multiple times, but the knob wouldn’t budge.

           She sighed and knocked the way she remembered Anna knocking when they were girls. “Anna,” she called. “Please, I know you’re in there. People are going to wonder why you’re late.” She paused, but Anna said nothing. Elsa put her head against the door. “I know you’re nervous, but he is too. I’m right here for you. Don’t make him wait.” Still there was no response. “You’ve been waiting for this day for years and years – don’t let it all slip through.”

           Elsa felt herself tear up again. She knew what to say next without even thinking about it. It was something Anna had asked her every year since she’d been locked away in her room. Their childhood isolation didn’t make sense to Anna; all she’d wanted was a sister to….to….

           “Do you want to build a snowman?” Elsa asked, choking up between every word. Her eyes closed as tears started to gently fall down her face, partly because she’d wished she’d said yes to that question when she was younger and partly because she knew Anna would be crying over it as well. She was surprised that her hands hadn’t started to freeze or that the door hadn’t started growing frost, but she wasn’t too interested in analyzing the reasons why.

           She heard the doorknob click, and suddenly she almost fell onto Anna as the doors opened. Her beautiful, soon-to-be-wed sister was crying, a small green handkerchief held up to one of her eyes as a smile spread across her face.

           “I do,” Anna finally replied, her voice wavering just as much as Elsa’s had when she’d asked her question. In a quick motion, the sisters embraced, laughed, and held on tighter than they ever had before. When Elsa finally pulled back just slightly, she took Anna’s handkerchief and wiped her sister’s face clear before throwing the green cloth into her room.

           “Come on,” she said to Anna. “Your Mountain Man is waiting for you.” Elsa turned and balled a fist, then put it against her hip. Anna wrapped her arm through her sister’s, and they headed down the hallway to the front doors.