#would’ve moved in and raised a child with you and spent the rest of our lives together but if you don’t want that it’s whatever i guess :|

[knifearo]

platonic breakup awareness. there are multiple ways to plan to spend the rest of your life inextricably intertwined with somebody and it hurts like a bitch not to have that anymore

[suminta]

title: a mags-nificent summer

character: mags romero

author’s notes: i just missed writing and i missed mags! i love mags. i realized while i was creating her character that i needed to be smart to show off her smartness so i just tend to focus on her emotions. she has a lot of em. anyway, this is a four-parter. five, if i’m not lazy. based off of this thing i made that i later realized i didn’t like as much as i did rip :/ 

June 2021.

On an old, faux-maple table that the Romeros had procured from an estate sale a few blocks over, Mags began to write away. Somewhat mindlessly, but her best sessions came from when she was feeling her lowest. So off she wrote!

About her school year. About people she loved, and people she might end up loving. Even people she’d think she could end up loving if the circumstances were right. It went down like a list: her parents, her grandparents, her cousin Nikki, then the people she had met at Gallagher. And that one was a table all on its’ own. There was Ria, there was Willow, Val, Sunny, Ruby…

“Mom, can I just help you put some dishes out or something?”

“No, honey. Just sit. Take a rest. You must be exhausted.” And the young girl looked up to her mother, Felicia, giving her a sly wink as the older woman moved around the kitchen to take care of this and that. Wafting through the air was the smell of fried lumpia, being pushed around by a sunny afternoon in Washington D.C. The family had opted to keep the windows open, heat emanating from the food frying, the rice cooking on the counter, and the warmth in Magdalena’s cheeks as she thought about the night before.

Being an only child can suck sometimes. Mags knows that her parents know that as a young woman of her age, attending college quite a distance away from them, away from their protectiveness...it was only normal to go to parties and drink.

And Beyonce’ was there, so if you asked Mags, there was no regret whatsoever. Even if she was as exhausted as her mother says she is.

“You know, your Lola had called me up this morning.” Miguel Romero had started to put the last of the lumpia on a bowl, ready to be served, as he went on. “She said she’ll be flying to the Philippines for two months. There’s some..family stuff that needs to be looked over.”

Felicia raised a brow, “Well, that’s the first I’ve heard of that. What kind of family stuff, my love?”

The older man shrugged. “It’s nothing too important. Well, that’s not true. Just..real estate. Some land that may or may not belong to us. Who knows? That’s the whole reason she needs to be there. And hey--” He set the bowl down on the table. “Maybe some of it does belong to our family and we’re lucky and we can say that we own land back there. And when I say ‘we’, I really mean my mom. But part of the family’s properties nonetheless.”

Mags could only nod, still scribbling away as she mentally notes to add some doodles and pictures to her journal pages after their late lunch was over. “I sure hope it’s ours. Otherwise, Lola would be wasting a trip. Also, at her age, I don’t think flying would be ideal. Especially flying commercial and cheap. It’s scary!” Cue the interesting times she had running from one terminal to another for her flights to the Berlin internship. “People can be rude too. Flying is not for the weak.”

“Mags, your grandmother is just pushing eighty. And your cousin Nikki is going with her, seeing as she has all those points saved up. I’m sure they’re as comfortable as they can be.” Miguel reassured her before taking his seat and sighing. “Of course, I would’ve loved to come. But there’s work to be done here. Your mom and I have a case that we need to tend to.”

Her ears perked up at that. She theorizes that the more time she spent at Gallagher, the more nosy she became. Though maybe she could class up the terminology just a bit. Nosy could be called observant. And easy as it came, she could put that down on her curriculum vitae and call it a day. “A case?”

Felicia sent her daughter a smile. Part comforting, part .. mystery, if you asked Mags. There were ways her mother could smile at her and she wouldn’t really know how to feel. “Nothing too big. But it is tedious, so we can’t spend as much time with you as we’d like, honey.”

Miguel grunted. “Part of me wishes I was retired so we could at least enjoy you during the summer. I mean, you might keep chugging along after you graduate from Gallagher and we wouldn’t even have spent a single month with you.” Though the older man knew that it is what it is; him and Felicia had things they needed to do while Mags could pretty much go wherever. Their only comfort was that, in the midst of all this, Mags could experience a normal life.

One without near-fatal home invasions, people her age being poisoned and having their lives cut short, or fellow students dying from organizations that hunted people like her down. That last one was a doozy; Felicia had broken some oaths in telling him that one. A necessity and just plain common sense, as the two were married and would continue to be for the rest of their lives. Felicia tells Miguel, Miguel tells Felicia, and sometimes Mags would be told things. Sometimes. That’s how it worked.

Before he could pick up a piece of food, Miguel eyed his wife as she sat down. Felicia responded by giving him a puzzled look; Mags being none the wiser as she finished up the paragraph she had been writing. Miguel gave one knowing grunt and gestured towards their daughter.

As the realization dawned upon her, Felicia cleared her throat and waited until Mags had her journal closed before she spoke. “Honey, since we can’t spend time with you this summer, your dad and I were thinking that you could..stay over at your grandma’s farm.”

Mags blinked before taking a glance at her parents. One on each side of her, with her brain only running through multiple possible responses before uttering a single: “Huh?”

“To be fair, there are still some keepers left at the farm. You know, there’s the people that tend to the lands and the cattle, and the house. Just .. I – W-we, don’t really know of any other place that we feel you’d be safe in. Your mom and I know each and every one of your Lola’s farm keepers. They’re like family as well.”

“Well..--” “And before you ask, no, my side of the family..no. I mean, you’ve met them and they’re nice, but ..I just don’t want you wrapped up in what they’ve got going on. It’s..too much. Your uncle is trying to run for mayor in their little town and I just don’t want you within their circle. Politics can be very dangerous.”

Mags looked down at her journal, closed up and buckled. Worn over by the many times she’s opened it up to write, dropped it down in a hurry to get to her next class, thrown it down on floor of the science labs every time she got frustrated (to her mentor’s displeasure, she was sure), and the sleepless nights she’d studied for one or more tests. The droplets of tears that adorned both the cover and several paragraph-riddled pages as she thought of the worst when it came to her grades, to her friends, to the rejections she’d experienced, both professionally and personally.

Even through two whole years at Gallagher and the many times she’d picked up her head from the toilet after a night of drunken fun at one of Gallagher’s many events, Mags still felt like she did years ago. She was good, she followed the rules, and she could count the amount of tension-filled confrontations she’s had with one hand.

And maybe part of her was delusional, but it was her summer before her third year. Her first year at Gallagher after Laura Sutton had resigned, for better or for worse.

She could envision herself at her dorm window, looking down at the incoming class of first years and wonder where the last two years had went. Because she could swear it was just yesterday that she was arranging her plants by her dorm’s window, thinking about the many ways her first years could end. And how none of it lived up to what actually happened.

“Mags?” Her mother urged, a hand reached out to grasp her shoulder. “What do you think?”

She tapped her fingers on her journal’s buckle and gave a small smile. “I guess I could do months on my own at Lola’s farm. Could be a good experience for me.”

[obeiii-mee]

Can I angst for Mammon where he is in a really bad mood and his brothers are at it again calling him names. And already ask them kindly to leave him alone but they keep at it. And Levi says something and it's the last straw. The air around them get cold for a moment as he slowly looks up and he flat out threatens them to shut up before he puts them back into there place with a really dark and threatening voice, before leaving. And the look could rival Satan's or even Lucifers glare.

I think Mammon takes the abuse of his brothers but sometimes he isn't in the mood and want a little peace and it is very very rare for him to get pissed

Like he's the kind of person who would yell when he's upset but when he's down right pissed it's like really fucking scary

People forget that as much as he lets his brothers push him around he is still the second oldest and is powerful so 😬

Brothers+ undateables reaction

Mammon snaps:

___________________

This is something I’ve mentioned in previous posts, but I basically second everything you said. I believe that Mammon dislikes getting into confrontations but isn’t by any means weak or stupid. He is the second eldest. However he is also, arguably, the one with the most self control out of them all. He has an overwhelming amount of patience when it comes to his siblings and I like to think he puts up with all of their insults because he loves them. Then again, it’s very possible for him to go berserk after years worth of build up.

Thanks for the request!!! I had a bit of trouble at first because I didn’t know how I was going to format it but I like the way it turned out so I hope you do too. Uhh also I reached my word limit writing this so I couldn’t include Simon, Luke and Solomon. I do plan on writing for them as well but at this point I’m just trying to get this done. Let me know if I made any grammatical errors! I double check my writing all the time but sometimes mistakes got over my head! The undateables are short because honestly I view the brothers as the ones who will suffer the most out of everyone. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway!!

•Characters: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphagour, Diavolo, Barbatos.

⚠️Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood & gore and that’s about it.

___________________

For the past few months, Lord Diavolo’s pleasure of hosting parties and inviting people over had become more and more noticeable. It was pretty obvious that the Prince was lonely, isolating himself from others due to the responsibilities he has as the heir to the throne and a leader in the making. Attending his gatherings seemed like a down right chore for most of the brothers but you never had any problem tagging along. Besides, it felt nice knowing he seemed you worthy of coming to such important meetings. Your seven demons were, of course, also invited and per Lucifer’s orders, they all got cleaned up and dressed in fancy clothing to impress the regals prancing about the castle. Though the outfits themselves came with their own set of problems. Levi’s was way too tight; the collar seemed to annoy him more than anything else, judging by the patches of red skin on his neck. Satan accidentally ripped one of the buttons from his jacket off in a fit of rage earlier that day and was now silently fuming while poking his finger through the hole he made. Even Asmo spilled some water on his shirt before they arrived, ruining his pretty pink suit! Not to mention Beel was munching on his tie, having last eaten about 15 minutes beforehand. Lucifer pulled it out of his mouth and scowled at the saliva stains that were left behind. Safe to say they were all in a miserable mood to begin with.

“I expect all of you to behave in a respectable manner,” Lucifer flicked Belphie on the back of the head just as he began dozing off, making the youngest growl at him. He shot Mammon an irritated look “I’m especially talking to you Mammon. Don’t try to steal anything or I’ll cut your hands off.”

“I told ya big bro, ya don’t have to worry about me! I’ll be a golden child today! Promise!” Mammon held up his pinky as if he was committing to some kind of oath. The eldest darkened his glare and opened his mouth to say something else, but you interrupted in hopes of avoiding any bickering that might’ve followed.

“Look, there’s our table! Let’s go sit down. Lord Diavolo’s speech is going to start any minute now.”

Beel leaped at the table as soon as he sniffed out the appetisers, which were neatly arranged on the expensive tablecloth, shoving at least half of them in his mouth by the time the rest of you caught up with him. Having been seated, you quickly glanced around the room in hopes of spotting Diavolo. You bumped into Solomon and the angels before entering the castle, chit chatting with them for a while about the event. Even now, Luke was excitedly waving at you from across the room, using both of his arms. However, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos were the ones in charge of this party and you were yet to see either of them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mammon eyeing the golden utensils laid out in front of him. Not the biggest of surprises really. Anytime Mammon sees something along the lines of gold, he can’t help but snatch it away. And there’s obviously so many valuables scattered all over the place, including the silverware that was proudly presented on every table. You sucked in a breath of anticipation when he reached for one of the spoons, only to exhale in relief when he placed it on the bridge of his nose, trying to balance it.

“MC, look at this!” He tapped your shoulder, as always wanting your full and undivided attention as he demonstrated his newfound skill. You giggled at his antics with fondness as he accidentally let the spoon drop with a clatter and a quiet ‘shit’ coming from him. Lucifer pulled on his ear, like a mother scolding her child and whisper-yelled at him to stop acting like an idiot. The only reason the oldest chose a sit right next to Mammon was to maintain order and peace. Basically, he did it for disciplinary reasons.

“I understand that being impertinent is your full-time job, Mammon but keep this up and I’ll throw you in Cerberus’ room. Let him do with you as he pleases.”

“Lucifer, it’s not a big deal-“

“Yeah, OK,” Mammon hissed, picking up the spoon from the recently polished floor with a slight grin that didn’t quiet reach his eyes “I gotcha. Can-“

“Speaking of Cerberus,” Levi suddenly piped in, no longer fussing about his collar or nervously twiddling with his thumbs because of the massive crowd of demons surrounding him “Didn’t you force me to walk him last week when it was your turn to do it?? I only agreed because you promised to buy me the newest Ruri-Chan limited edition body pillow that came out last Tuesday! And you never did! And now they’re out of stock, you scummy piece of-“

The third eldest would’ve leapt across the table and aimed for the throat if you hadn’t pressed a gentle hand against his chest, making him sit back down with a huff. People were starting to stare at the commotion coming from your table, turning heads and muttering between themselves. You were slowly dying from embarrassment by the way, since you guys definitely became the topic of conversation for the other guests. The brothers were being too noisy to even notice and Lucifer himself was too preoccupied to see the scene they were creating which made you further slouch down into your chair, silently hoping for the ground to swallow you whole. The night really wasn’t going as intended. You could hear Solomon laughing at the brothers’ antics from three tables down.

“I guess that’s Mammon for you,” Belphie yawned, barely raising his head from table “He lies everyday, all day. What exactly is new here? And that says something since it’s coming from me.”

“I apologised for that!” Mammon whined, referring to Levi’s accusation and choosing not to address Belphie’s insult “I was gonna buy it but then I realised I spent all my money earlier that week anyway so I couldn’t!”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t happen if you learned how to save the money you earn properly,” Satan muttered, sipping from his glass of whatever beverage he had snatched from the servants earlier “Not like you know how to earn money in any way besides stealing it.”

You watch as Mammon clenched his fist “Can we please just move on-“

“I can’t believe that I was cursed with this moron for a brother,” Asmo sighed, almost theatrically, as if he was performing. And, in a way, he was. People were getting really interested in the drama unfolding over there. It was making you even more anxious, all those eyes staring at you. The Avatar of Lust was leaning so much on his chair, you were sure he was going to topple over and at this point, you kinda hoped he would. Anything to stop this momentum of hatred aimed at Mammon “You’re always getting us in trouble, you know. Hmph, we can’t go anywhere with you Mammon! You always end up ruining it for us! With your stupid schemes and-“

“I’m hungry-“

“Not now, Beel!”

“Cutting him up into tiny pieces for the witches will always be an option,” Lucifer chimed in, smiling at the thought.

Mammon snapped his head upwards at that. It was such an abrupt reaction, it made you jolt a little in your seat. You couldn’t miss the tension radiating from him, how quickly his body stiffened and exactly how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the table. His brothers were still paying him no mind, blaming him for this and that under their breath or being silently judgemental in Lucifer’s case. You worried for him because Mammon rarely acted like this; feral, in a way. Just so you know, he definitely noticed it. The look of concern plastered all over your face. That’s the only reason he released the table from his vice-like grip and slouched back against his chair. Satan went quiet and was staring at Mammon in bewilderment.

He disliked the idea of you watching him lose control of himself. He was your guardian. Your first pact. It’s important to him that your relationship is build around a pillar of trust. And he can’t even expect you to trust him if he exposes you to his demon form every time something inconveniences him. Mammon would rather cease to exit than have you fear him. So he kept his breathing regulated as the fog cleared his mind. The Avatar of Greed isn��t an angry demon. Snuffing out the the flame of rage he had fanned up until then was relatively easy. He just needed to get through tonight, then he could go home and complain to you about it once he got out of his brothers’ earshot.

“Why does he get to spend so much time with MC anyway? He’d probably sell them for a few Grimm any time of the day, wouldn’t he? It’s so fucking unfair. He won’t change no matter what so why risk MC’s safety? I will summon Lotan on him if he starts getting on my nerves.”

It would be an understatement to say that those words rubbed Mammon the wrong way, judging by the lack of immediate response. It was unexpected for him keep his mouth shut at a time like this. What was even more unexpected was the abrupt, delayed reaction he had a few seconds afterwards, resulting in his chair being flung back about 5 feet in that general direction. The seemingly deafening thud it made when it collided with the floor echoed around the dining hall, bouncing off walls and whacking people over the heads with the aggression behind it. A moment of pure, indescribably loud silence filled the crowded space as everyone else stared in shock at their brother, mouths agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Mammon would’ve laughed at their faces if it weren’t for the circumstances leading up to that point.

“What gives any of you the right to treat me like some sort of punching bag?” Mammon drawled, accentuating his obviously superior nature to almost every single demon at that table. He laughed, in an oddly half hearted way, before his sea struck gaze landed back to his siblings “Do not try to push me into a corner, because I will not handle it well. You’ve been having a field day with me for centuries now and I’m starting to get really ticked off, ya know? But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve done everything in my power to keep MC alive for the past few months and y’all are acting as if I’m out here playing with their life. Complain about me all you want. But...” He thumped the table, loud enough to make all the noblemen in the room flinch.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I would ever put MC in danger, willingly or not because I will rip out your insides and paint the walls of this palace with them while hanging your intestines from these chandeliers. I will pluck your hairs out one by one, then your nails, then your eyeballs and then your teeth. You’re the ones that have put MC in danger’s way time and time again in the past few weeks, and you’re out here trying to suggest that I would even think about hurting them? Unlike every single one of you, who almost killed my human-you’re lucky I don’t have your fucking heads.”

He smashed his fist into the table again, using even more of his strength this time and effectively breaking the whole thing, the wooden legs giving out and shattering into thousands of splinters. Mammon spoke again, his voice lowering “MC forgave you. I didn’t. And I have no reason to. Not with how you’ve been treating me.”Once he spit that out, Mammon turned on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him hard enough to shake the whole building, leaving his siblings in dazed awe.

......

Even more silence. For some reason, all of the brothers at the now broken table ended up looking your way, silently questioning what they should do. It often ended up like this

You gave them all an unimpressed stare and a half-assed shrug “Don’t look at me. You guys fucked up.” Before sliding out of your seat and following Mammon out of the castle, sending an apologetic smile to Diavolo on your way out. Hopefully, you could manage to calm him down before everyone else gets home otherwise this might drag on for a while.

Lucifer:

-In all honesty, he probably saw the signs from a mile away and still decided to ignore them

-Maybe because he believed they weren’t being all that harsh on him, even if in Mammon’s eyes they were

-‘Harsh’ in Lucifer’s vocabulary usually means being hanged upside down from a ceiling or publicly executed, not a couple of mere insults

-Not to mention the eldest had always been horrible at communicating with his brothers when it came to emotions

-Despite Mammon clearly suffering from the treatment he received from his brothers, Lucifer refuses to believe he’s the root of the problem

-As the Avatar of Pride, he always had a hard time realising that all those words and the constant teasing, which he deemed to be pretty harmless, scarred Mammon a lot more than expected

-Once he actually comes to that conclusion, and after getting over the initial shock, Lucifer would probably feel the guiltiest out of them all

-Being the eldest means he carries quite a few burdens on his shoulders as most responsibilities fall on him due to his prideful nature

-He would blame himself for Mammon’s outburst simply because he’s the older brother and he should’ve known better, not just because he sees how a big of a role he played in all of this

-Usually, if his brothers do something bad, then he’s there to fix it within hours, that’s how it always worked

-Except he doesn’t know how to fix this exactly

-The problem is he has no idea how to approach Mammon after that sudden meltdown and he has no idea how to talk it out with him because he sucks at expressing himself verbally

-And since this took place in a public space, Lord Diavolo’s Palace no less, he felt really conflicted on what should have been done at that moment in time

-There was a lot of frustration, embarrassment and confusion in him for a good five minutes after Mammon slammed that door shut behind him and even after he gathered his thoughts together, he was still in shock for the rest of the night

-In any case, the whole event was promptly cancelled and everyone ended up going home earlier than expected, after Lucifer apologised to Diavolo about the spectacle they created (several times)

-When they finally get home, he decided to give Mammon his space instead of trying to knock at his door and instead went back to his room

-He knows they will need to solve this matter soon but there’s no way Mammon will want to see, let alone talk, to any of them just yet

-He’s sort of hoping he can apologise best he can next morning at breakfast, cross his fingers and wish for the best but judging by the venom that laced Mammon’s voice the night before, it’s not likely he will forgive any of them that easily.

Levi:

-If I were to guess, he saw the ending credits of his life flash before his very eyes as soon as those words left his mouth

-Levi felt a panic in him like never before, not even while playing his engaging horror visual novels at 3am in complete darkness or that one time he used Lucifer’s credit card to buy merch before being found out

-Must’ve forgotten his brother technically ranks higher than him on the power scale for a second there

-Or maybe he didn’t think his insults were going to affect him much

-They usually don’t

-Or at least that’s the impression he’s been under for a while now

-Mammon doesn’t snap easily under pressure but Levi must’ve really hit a nerve there that night

-While everyone was sitting in a short silence after Mammon left the building, he started twiddling with his fingers again the more he thought about it

-Because now he went from nervous to fucking terrified of what the hell was waiting for him when he finally got home

-He does feel guilty, nowhere near as much guilt as Lucifer feels but still pure shame

-However most of that guilt is swallowed by a steady fear and the constant worry of ‘how do I stop my brother from killing me?’

-Unlike Lucifer, I honestly don’t see him taking any sort of initiative when it comes to apologising to Mammon

-Not even because he doesn’t want to, but he would freeze up if he were to come face to face with him after that incident and then scamper back to his room like a rat in hiding

-So without your help, it’s likely the two won’t be speaking to each very soon which can honestly make life at the House of Lamentation so much more miserable

-In the end, if either you or Lucifer forced him to, he would say sorry by selling some of his merch and then giving him the profits (in secret but we all know it’s him)

-That is a big sacrifice on Levi’s part considering how precious his merchandise is to him

-But the idea that he’s gonna get murdered in his sleep by his older brother was getting a tad too real

-Besides, Mammon is still his brother and if he has to sell a couple of items in order to make him less mad, he would do it, albeit with a bit of grumbling

-Despite that, Mammon still refuses to come out of his room and sort of relies on you to bring him food because he doesn’t want to see his brothers

-Levi and Mammon would probably have to rebuild a lot of their relationship after this but it could easily take months for that to happen since Levi is too terrified to look him in the eye and Mammon is too upset to even hear his voice

Satan:

-He wouldn’t be the Avatar of Wrath if he couldn’t spot the anger within someone from a mile away

-He’s always been able to recognise the fury building up inside of him so for Satan it’s second nature to just know when someone’s on the brink of snapping

-It’s no surprise to say that he probably noticed Mammon’s wrath spilling out before anyone else did

-But alas, he realised it too late

-If he had reacted quicker, maybe he would’ve been able to diffuse Mammon before he exploded on them. Or not

-It’s difficult to tell if he could’ve actually helped because who was he to tell Mammon to calm down??? If anyone told him that while he was throwing a fit, he would probably break their necks-

-In the end, he just pressed his lips into a straight line and watched his brother throw his chair across the room

-Not gonna lie, he found it a bit entertaining purely because of the look on Lucifer’s face

-Satan had to try really hard not to crack a smile because he knew Mammon would probably smash a glass against his head or something

-Even so, he was the first to stand up and offer to go after him, though he wasn’t sure he could do much consoling

-Being so experienced with anger meant that he knew Mammon had built himself into a rage that he won’t be able to escape out of too easily

-Which is why he advises Lucifer to give Mammon his space once they get home

-Overall, the most understanding out of all of the brothers

-At this point in time, probably the least judgemental out of everyone and once Mammon comes out of his room for the first time in a while, either him or Beel is going to apologise to him first

-He may push and push him alongside the rest of his siblings but I feel like Satan doesn’t want to reach a certain low, like cornering Mammon into the frenzy he had that day ever again

-He might get pissy with him if he’s being too stubborn to forgive anyone after coming down from his intrusive thoughts

-And he really hates that Mammon had to remind them about all the times you had nearly died because of them, because he knows they won’t be able to make it up to you so why is Mammon upset about this????

-But he will try to maintain respect for his older brother from then on

-Even if the sharpest of remarks is on the top of his tongue!

Asmo:

-Asmo is the type to laugh it off and then start feeling really upset about it later on, the longer he thinks about the whole thing

-After Mammon storms out, he just assumes it’s another one of those ‘Mammon’ things and tried to brush the feeling of unease off him

-Even so, later that night the memory of Mammon kept coming back to him while he laid in his bed, unable to have a nice rest for the first time in how long? He’s always been really strict about his sleeping schedules after all

-Asmo’s observant, almost on par with Satan himself when it comes down to it. He definitely saw the gleam of anger, pent up frustration and hatred in his brothers’ eyes that moment and it legitimately scared him, even if it was for just half a second

-Honestly, he begins neglecting himself out of anticipation and worry which is a huge red flag for the Avatar of Lust who always holds himself at such a superior level compared to everyone else

-It may start out slow, but it has the same effect as a snowball rolling down the hill. It becomes more of a problem the longer it’s ignored

-Because he spends most of his days now debating whether he should try to coax his brother into coming out of his room and apologising to him, he forgets about himself

-Skincare routines are missed, pedicure appointments have been cancelled; hell, if Mammon’s keeps being stubborn, he may let his hair become absolutely filthy

-Asmo sort of relies on his brothers to provide the living environment he revolves around. If something is off with his brothers, he can not work properly either because it doesn’t feel right to do so

-Imagine a machine not working anymore because one of the clogs in it got stuck

-I can see Asmo feeling a decent amount of guilt when it comes to the situation but he still blames Levi for completely pushing him over the edge at dinner

-So now those two aren’t talking (it’s honestly so exhausting since they’re shoving the blame onto each other without stop)

-If Mammon decides to come out and hear them out, Asmo might get on his knees and beg because that guilt bubbling up inside of him may end up being his demise

-No seriously, MC might need to keep an eye out on him too while comforting Mammon because whatever he is doing isn’t healthy

-Takes Mammon’s outburst pretty badly and tries apologising to him many times but the second eldest still hasn’t said a word to any of them

-And that’s driving him into a fucking swirl of insanity at this point

-Of course, much like Mammon’s mental breakdown, this builds up over time but the result can be devasting

-If you pass by his room at night, you could probably hear him sob about how his brother hates him and it’s really heartbreaking to hear pained cries like that coming from such an overly confident demon like Asmo

Beel:

-Literally the only one here that doesn’t dish out insults onto Mammon every hour of the day

-He joins in very rarely and even when he does, it’s usually in good nature rather than malice

-Unless food is involved. Feelings (and Mammon) might be hurt if that’s the case

-Beel wasn’t listening to his siblings as they were diminishing Mammon, he was way too hungry to comprehend what the hell they were on about

-So he just started wolfing down appetisers until he noticed you looking all weary

-That’s the first thing that put him on alert

-And then the second born’s aura was also...off putting

-Might’ve actually tried to nudge Belphie to stop him from saying anything offensive to Mammon in this state when he realised how tense the atmosphere got

-Flinched when his brother left the palace, almost cracking the whole doorway on his way out

-Hunger is all but gone and at this point he wants to go home to check up on him

-Beel is a bit of a softie and he wears his heart on his sleeve a lot of the times

-He never did anything particularly bad to Mammon, not on the same scale his brothers did certainly and yet he still felt extremely bad

-Perhaps because he didn’t step in as much as he should’ve...?

-Either way, when his loved ones suffer, he has a tendency of putting the blame on himself because he feels it’s the only logical answer

-Honestly, he feels guilty enough to the point where it’s affecting his eating habits-which is obviously not normal for the Avatar of Gluttony

-Beel knows Mammon doesn’t want to talk to him but he still brings him food and leaves it at the doorstep of his room since he doesn’t want to come out and have dinner with them

-Or he relies on you to give it to him

-The thought of Mammon being so mad at them that he doesn’t even want to eat makes him feel so vulnerable

-As soon as he sees him for the first time since that night, he will probably be the first to apologise, even if Mammon isn’t in the mood to hear apologies

-Again, he’s trying to use food to make up to him (bringing him his favourites and paying for them)

-Even if he gets ignored, he’s still going to do it

-Beel is trying his best to say sorry to his older brother the only way he knows how to do so, but Mammon still doesn’t give in

Belphie:

-Could’ve been asleep the whole time Mammon was thrashing about

-Or at least that’s what it looked like to the average passer-by

-Kept one eye open to watch as Mammon finally snapped under pressure, having to raise his head once his brother broke the whole god damned table

-“OK, alright, storm off I guess-I have a splinter now-“

-Don’t trust that sarcastic commentary, he’s in deep thought on the inside

-Maybe he should’ve expected this but then again, he never would’ve guessed Mammon had it in him to be so aggressive

-Will narrow his eyes at him when he talks your death and scowl

-As if he didn’t already feel like the world’s biggest piece of shit, he had to bring that up

-As soon as he leaves, he turns to Lucifer and goes “See what you did? You broke Mammon. You suck, Lucifer.”

-The shifting of blame suits Belphie really well (it takes Beel side glancing him to get him to shut up)

-The Avatar of Sloth is too tired to even try to communicate with his brother so he goes straight to bed after getting home

-However, he actually visits Mammon’s dreams that night

-Or at least tries to, if Mammon is getting any sleep after that showdown

-It’s his way of checking in with his brother, helps him evaluate the situation

- Whether that works or not, there was definitely an attempt that required a lot of effort and you don’t see that very often with Belphagour

-It really demonstrates how much he actually cares for his family, even if he hides behind snide remarks and the likes of it

-However, if Mammon refuses communication, then he can’t do anything but give up

-He clearly won’t be able to convince him to step aside for a chit chat and why waste energy trying to force him to do so

-When the time comes, Belphie knows his brother will willingly talk to him (or at least someone else because he knows he’s not any good at comfort or apologies)

-At the same time, a lot of the things Mammon said during that party rubbed him the wrong way and seeing his twin suffer because of it is also pissing him off so patience may be running thin with Belphie

-Like Levi, there may be a lot of ice between the two from then onwards so it won’t be easy for them to find the middle ground in this whole argument either

-It could lead to a strained relationship if no one intervenes or even a physical fight if the youngest pushes all of Mammon’s buttons properly

Diavolo:

-The Future King feels guilty too, for some reason

-He is clearly not involved but he’s under the impression his party was a catalyst of sorts to the fight that broke out that night

-Diavolo wasn’t even in the same room when it happened-he heard shouting and growling from next door whilst talking to a noble about future arrangements in DevilDom and rushed in

-The sight was something to behold really; Mammon cornering all of his brothers and threatening them with pure venom in his voice wasn’t something you saw everyday

-More often than not, it was the other way around so the Prince had every right to be concerned

-He tried asking Lucifer what was going on after the second eldest slammed the door shut behind him and left but to no avail; the Avatar of Pride was in a state of shock and the only thing he did was apologise to him about a million times before his departure with the rest of his siblings

-Despite his worry, Diavolo tried not to get involved in the aftermath either, believing it’s not his place to interfere and hoping they would solve it out amongst themselves

-He did give Mammon permission to miss RAD classes for that week, thinking a small break is what he needed most

-Even drops by every now and then to check up on him (he just asks you how he’s holding up because he doesn’t want to pry)

-He can’t do much but watch from the sidelines, I mean this is a family dispute so it would be wise to just give them all a bit of space

-If it drags on for too long, however, he will be forced to do something because the brothers are all distracted and can’t get on with their student council work because of it

-Lucifer is even more stressed than usual and can’t even focus during their meetings so for the sake of his friend, if nothing gets resolved quickly, he will intervene and it won’t be pretty

-For now, he’s counting on you to make sure there are no further incidents but it’s unlikely you can stop a train once it’s set in motion so just hope Mammon doesn’t come out of his room until he’s calmed down

Barbatos:

-The butler is a Time Lord so it’s probably no surprise to find out he already knew this was going to happen eventually

-Not like he believed Mammon was going to take his brothers’ insults for much longer anyway

-Being the quiet and observant demon he is, he’s been keeping a close eye on the Avatar of Greed knowing damn well he was going to lose his patience soon enough and go on the offence

-If he knew this was going to happen at such an important moment in time, he would’ve warned his majesty beforehand but he failed to see the potential catastrophe awaiting his breakdown

-Again, he has no right to intervene

-Unless, of course, Lord Diavolo asks him to do so but really the most he can do is give you tips on how to deal with miserable demons

-I mean, you’re the one that’s going to be stuck with them for the rest of the year and this isn’t the type of conflict that gets resolved too easily

-Barbatos is clever so if there is still bitterness between Mammon and his siblings after an amount of time passed, he might try to change timelines (with the permission of Diavolo)

-He’s had enough of Beel coming over to eat his cakes and cry about his older brother hating him (believe it or not, the butler is definitely a bit fond of the sixth eldest so his cries did pull at his heartstrings)

-Basically, in the same position as the Prince

-He relies on you to get them all to make up but he knows it’s not likely to happen any time soon

-For now, he’s getting ready for the chain reaction this fight set in motion because there was no easy way to end this, considering they’re all vicious demons and all

—————————————————————-

Al~ im mad I couldn’t add Simon, Luke and Solomon-I want to write for them too >:(

[raineydays411]

My Father's daughter pt1

Summary: After the disastrous gala, you get an unexpected visit from your “mother”and her family. 

A/n: Hello so I feel like the mom character should have a name, so from here on out, your mother's name is Christine. Also i hope y’all like this one cause i feel like it’s going kinda slow.

Growing up was rough. 

Because your mother decided that you and Tony weren’t worth the effort, you had to mature pretty quickly. You’re father had fallen into this deep depression, where he can barely take care of himself. You had to make sure that your father woke up on time for meetings, made sure he ate, drank water, and inevitably had to make sure that he didn’t choke on his own vomit when he got shitfaced. 

Needless to say, you were very mature for nine years old.

But then, a light in the form of Virginia Potts came into your lives. She saw the way you had taken on the role of Tonys caregiver, and was heartbroken. At first she thought it was just pure negligence from Tonys end, but as she spent more time with the both of you, she realized that Tony loved you more than anything in this world. So she stuck around. 

At first you were weary of her. Not really trusting towards older woman, or motherly figures as you were scorned once. But she never gave up. Not on you or your father. No, she stayed even when you would run away on under her watch. She stayed even when you would try and steal your fathers cars for a quick joy ride through Manhattan. And she stayed when you broke down after your mother had people come pick up all her belongings from the Tower, not bothering to come herself and say goodbye. 

She didn’t leave. She held you as you screamed and sobbed as the men packed away everything she owned. She held you even when you squirmed and scratched at her arms to get away. And she held you as you gave up and silently cried then eventually fell asleep, tightly clutching her midsection. 

That's when you started to come around. You stopped running away whenever your father would leave you with her, wouldn’t talk back when she asked you to pick up a mess, and you even helped her out when some creep intern decided to put the moves on her during a company meeting. 

It wasn’t until your father went missing when you truly saw her as someone you could trust. It was the worst three months of your life.  Another parent gone suddenly from your life. You were relocated to mansion in Malibu, a big empty place where the halls echoed as you walked through them. ANd you had thought that Pepper was going to stay back in New York, she wasn’t your assistant after all. You were shocked to see her at the airport, suitcase in tow with a determined look.

Seeing the look of surprise on your face she stated,

“ I’m not going to let you do this alone.” ,then grabbed your hand to lead you through terminal.

You were grateful that she only acknowledged your tears when you were in the privacy of the private jet. She rubbed your back as you let the tears run down your face. The whole three months that you were in her care, your perspective changed.

She asked about your day, made sure you ate, tucked you in and held you whenever you had nightmares. With in that three month period, Pepper showed you what it was like to have a mother again. And she never let you down. 

Then your dad came home, and your family was complete. You were ecstatic when they started dating and even more so when your father announced that they were going to get engaged.

And even though it took years, you finally trusted Pepper enough to see her as your mother. You were happy. 

Which is why you were extra pissed when you came home from your mother-daughter day and saw your biological mother with Bruce Wayne in the common room. They were sitting on the couch and were getting glared at by the Avengers that were home from missions,(Natasha, Steve, and Sam). 

“Dad, what’s going on?” You ask, looking past the hopeful and curious gazes from the couch. 

“Kid, I think you better sit down.” Tony said through slightly clenched teeth. His face was grim, as he looked past you and made eye contact with Pepper. They had a silent conversation with their eyes, and she nodded. She squeezed your shoulders and took your bags, then with a quick glare she had the rest of the room cleared except for the four of you. 

You took a seat across from your mother, Christine and Bruce. She sent a smile your way and was met with a blank look, “ Dad, what’s going on?”

He sighs and makes his way over to were you were seated, “I don’t know, Christine, maybe you should explain.” 

His tone indicated that he knew why she was here, but wanted her to sound stupid. Pepper came over and sat on the t other side of you. 

Christine glanced at the Pepper and cleared her throat, “Perhaps should be kept between family?”

You scoffed, “ Considering that Pep has been around longer than you ever have been, you have no right to decide who’s family to me and whos not.” 

You see Pepper sit up straighter with pride and mother slump. 

You sigh, “ What are you doing here?” 

She looks at Bruce, who you honestly forgot was still there, “ Y/n...I want you to come home with us.” 

A silence filled the room. You felt Pepper tense up at the words and saw your dads and clench into a fist. 

You however just stared in utter disbelief. 

“What.” 

“I know it's far fetched.” Your mother starts, ignoring your scoff, “ But i really do think it would benefit you to come to Gotham with us, and get to know your siblings!” 

You were seething. 

“My siblings? You mean the family that you left us for.”

“Y/n that’s not-”

“No, You think that you can just waltz into my home, after nine years of absolutely no contact, no birthday cards, not even a text to let me know that you were alive, and expect me to what? Just welcome you into open arms? Leave MY family and go live with you?? Really?”  You say with a scoff.

“Y/n there is a ot of factors you are not considering” Bruce chimes in for the first time.

You turn your glare onto him, “ And what you’re just okay with the fact that your wife has a whole other child who she just fucking abandoned?

“Language.” Your father mutters causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Well, I can’t say this didn’t come as a shock.” Bruce states, “ But, I also know that I love my wife, and that I would welcome you to our home.”

Your throat was hurting with the amount if times you’ve scoffed, “ And I appreciate that, really, but I would never leave my family. Especially not for her.”

Christine's eyes start to tear up, “ Y/n please, a girl needs her mother.”

Those words triggered the anger inside you. Your blood boiled and you can tell that she knew she messed up. 

“Oh? Is that right? What about when I was six and I waited for you to come and take me to that mother's day dance, only you never showed up and I went with my nanny. Or when I was eight and you promised that you would take me to get my ears pierced but then you got a phone call and left so dad took me?” 

You saw the tears run down her face as Bruce looked like he was thinking about something.

“Oh and what about when I was nine. I was nine and you promised to take me to the park. You remember that? Cause I do.” 

Tony tenses next to you, knowing what you were about to say.

“Y/n I can never apologize enough but-” You cut her off

“I was NINE and your promised to take me to the park” You continue, “ But you left. And this time you didn’t come back.” You finish and lean forward, “ Tell me, why the HELL would you think that I would want to come live with you and your fucking family?”

The room was once again engulfed in a tense silence. The only sounds were the sniffling of your mother. 

“You’re my baby girl...my petal. I love you and always have...” She starts, “ My biggest regret is leaving you that day and you have to know that Y/n.”

You feel tears start to rise, a knot in your throat. 

Peppers hand squeezes yours and you calm down and say

“Then you’re gonna have to learn to live with it.” 

Then you stand up and walk right out of the room. Leaving the adults and marching straight to the training rooms to let out some steam. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the common room, a tense silence weighed on the adults. It seemed like no one knew exactly what to say, or they didn’t want to speak up.

Only when Tony cleared his throat did Christine speak up again.

“I didn’t come to cause any trouble.” she said quietly.

“What did you think would happen?”Tony says crossing his arms, “Surely you didn’t expect her to leave with you?”

“No Tony I didn’t. I just thought she would’ve considered it. I am still her mother.”

Pepper snorted, causing the attention to turn to her.

Christine's eyes narrowed, “ And who exactly are you to my daughter?”

Tony tensed, knowing not to mess with Pepper especially when it came to you. He sat back and waited for mamma bear to come out.

Pepper sent a glare her way, “ Me? I’m just the woman who has been raising her for the past nine years.”

Before Christine can get another word on Pepper continued on,

“ I don’t know who you think you are, but you have put Y/n and Tony through a lot of turmoil throughout the years. And now you think you can come in here and demand forgiveness from them?? That’s not happening.”

Bruce started to speak up, “I understand the pain you're family must have gone through, and I am sorry about my...unknowing participation, but Christine is willing to work on her relationship with her daughter.”

Now Tony started speaking, “why? Why now? Y/n is practically an adult, she doesn’t need you anymore. Not like she did before.”

“I’m her mother.” Christine said stubbornly, “ She’ll always need her mother.”

“And she has one. Just not you.” Pepper said standing from her spot, “ I think it’s time for you two to leave. I have to go comfort MY daughter.”

And with that Pepper made her way to the door where you disappeared, knowing exactly where you are. But before she left, she turned and said

“It was lovely to meet you Mrs. Wayne”

and left, leaving Tony to show them to the elevator.

[quillsanddaydreams]

puzzle dates

regulus black x reader

—author’s note: I adored writing this. Like a lot. Requested by an anon who wanted some Regulus fluff with a potter!reader. @scvrllet my dearest, gave in prompts for it and a message by @nuttytani darling inspired it. So what happens when you meet Regulus, your friend years after hogwarts? Happy reading ;)

—warning(s): mentions of food and drink. gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren’t used). reader is James's sibling but it's hardly there.

—word count: 1,546

It was raining heavily. You had been out for about an hour, getting groceries for the week. Whispering a spell, making sure no one was viewing in your direction, you watched your wand transform into an umbrella and hurried away from the shop. Stalking towards your house, you tried to make sure not to let your bags get wet. You didn’t notice the man standing in your way.

“Ah, shit—” you began, not looking up far too busy to check whether or not something fell. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t notice where I was going—”

“Potter?”

You gazed up meeting someone you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Regulus.”

For a minute you two just stared at each other. He had changed. The thin, gaunt boy you saw as a child was replaced by a handsome man with the same striking eyes you used to know so well. You shook yourself.

“What— what are you doing here?” you said gesturing towards the damped hair and drenched clothes. Extending your umbrella over his head you continued, “You’ll get sick.”

“Worried about me, are you Potter?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Why don’t you think the soaked-to-the-bone look works for me?”

You chuckled.

“You didn’t answer my question,”

“Ah, I was here on ministry business but I guess I won’t be able to get it done now,” he said slowly looking around. “Was trying to find a place I could apparate safely. Too many muggles around.”

You furrowed your eyebrows noticing your surroundings again.

“Come with me,” you suggested. “My apartment is nearby and you could dry off before leaving.”

Regulus looked like he wanted to refuse but you cut him off.

“You’ll only ruin your health here, come with me— also it’s been a long while since we talked,” you pointed out and Regulus looked at you curiously. His mouth quirked upwards and he nodded. The two of you moved to the quaint three-story building, climbing up the stairs before reaching your door. You muttered in some spells before hearing a click.

“Don’t trust muggle locks?” Regulus said smugly as you rolled your eyes.

Waving your wand, you started up the fire; the warmth tickling your skin. Regulus took to drying himself off— murmuring incantations. You took to keeping the bags in the kitchen, putting up a kettle for some tea. Taking off your scarf, you sighed and sneaked a glance at Regulus who was now standing awkwardly looking around the house.

“You know you can sit, right?” you asked him. Shaking his head a little, he went to sit down in front of the fireplace. You took out some cups and an assortment of tea bags placing them in a tray along with some cookies you had bought the same day. Regulus smiled as you came in.

“Which one will you have?” you inquired as he gently took the cup from your hand. “Ah, still can’t have tea made by anyone else?”

Regulus threw you a grin.

“It’s a disastrous habit.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tea pleasantly hot against your throat. Rain thrummed at the roof, the noise filling up the place.

“So—”

“How—”

You laughed. Indicating at him to continue, you raised the cup to your lips again.

“So what have you been up to?”

“I’ve been managing dad’s business. Since James joined a quidditch team, there was no one to help so I stood up. I quite like it, it gives me enough room to be creative;” you said softly. “How about you? Tell me something other than your ministry job.”

“Well I tried my hand at painting,” Regulus said after thinking for a while. “Remember how you used to tell me to try it?”

“You had the most gorgeous handwriting and the diagrams you made were always so perfect. Could you blame me?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, smiling as dimples formed on his cheeks. He looked beautiful like that. Curls of hair falling over his forehead, relaxed and carefree. You missed it.

“What?” he asked his cheeks a rosy color. You shrugged.

“Nothing, it’s good to see you after all this time,” you said, ignoring how your stomach tickled. “Remember how we promised to stay in touch?”

“Oh yes,” Regulus said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Right after your brother glared at me and threatened to hex me if I don’t stop talking to you.”

You snickered.

“You know he is quite the idiot,” you countered. “And my parents would’ve been proud if I brought you home.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Brought me home, huh?” he said as you bit your tongue, looking away. “Did you fancy me, love?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying and failing to keep a straight face. It was something about the way he called you love that made you feel like a teenager with a crush again.

“The point is,” you pressed. “The point is that it never mattered what James did or said. He couldn’t do anything to keep us from being friends.”

“Yeah, friends.” Regulus breathed. You almost missed it.

The room fell silent again and you could hear the pitter-patter of the rain. Regulus picked up a cookie before speaking again.

“Do you still like doing puzzles?” he said as your eyes lit up.

“Yes, I do,” you said, reminding yourself of all the times the two of you spent together. “I never quite got over it after all the hours we spent together. Sirius used to mutter ‘mental’ whenever he saw us working over one. Especially since we always took up the one which seemed impossible to do.”

Regulus grinned, nodding.

“I don’t think he ever had the patience for it.”

“You know;” you said pondering. “I have bought a puzzle recently. Would you like to do it with me? For old time’s sake.”

“And here I thought it’s because you enjoy my company,” he said with a smug expression. Your heartbeat erratically and you found yourself hating how he still affected you.

“So that’s a yes?” you said, overlooking his jab. Regulus clicked his tongue accepting.

You got up slowly taking out the box you had bought a few days earlier. It was a fiery phoenix, looking at you intently. Regulus rubbed his hands and sat down on the floor beside you. He gasped a little when you put the box down.

“You know, I bought the exact same one about a week ago,” he said, helping you open the pack. “It’s missing a piece.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and Regulus shrugged.

“Should I bring another one? I have—”

“No no let’s do this one, it was fun.”

Folding your legs, you sat down beside him, your arms touching. Starting from the corner the two of you put together pieces. A sense of calm eloped you. The house and everything with it seemed to blur away. Just you, him, and the puzzle remained. It was different from your memories though, neither of you were children anymore. The adoration you had for him somehow hit harder now. Your hand touched his several times and you beamed at him as the puzzle came together.

“Aha!” you exclaimed putting the last piece in its place. It looked pretty. You looked over at Regulus, who was holding a stray piece in his hand, oblivious to what you said.

“Reg? Earth to Reg?” you called out as he finally looked over at you.

“I’m pretty sure you’re my soulmate,” he said as you felt your ears heat up.

“What—”

“This,” he said, indicating the odd puzzle piece. “This is the exact piece my set was missing.”

You snorted trying to deflect how your chest was filled with butterflies.

“Oh? And that makes us soulmates?” you asked, amusedly. “Since when did you believe in soulmates even?”

Regulus had the decency to blush.

“Well didn’t you always say our lives were a big puzzle?” he started. “Right now, you have a portion of mine.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh at the cheesiness or pull him close at the very same moment.

“You’re a dork!” you said poking his head with your finger. The boy smiled but it was strained. His demeanor changed. You could practically see his walls building up. Did you say something wrong?

“Reg,” you said urgently. He hummed in response. “Was that soulmate thing a joke or you meant it? Even if a little?”

Regulus avoided your eyes.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, yes it does.”

“Yeah well then I like you,” he said, looking down. “Always have. But I know you don’t and…”

You put a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“I do,” you said as his stormy grey eyes landed on your own. He cradled your cheek, leaning in tentatively, glancing at your lips. You heaved a sigh as his mouth finally met yours. Grabbing his collar, you kissed him softly. When you pulled back, you had a smile on your face.

“Now that wasn’t how I was expecting the day to go at all,” you commented, delighted. Regulus held your hand kissing the knuckles.

“We’re going to have more of these puzzle dates, aren’t we, love?” he said as you rested your head against his shoulder, interlinking your fingers with his.

“We are.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Diluc, Childe, Kaeya & Zhongli / Darling Saying “I hate you.”

Warnings: Suggestive themes and typical unhealthy yandere behavior. Note: sometimes in life we just gotta suffer,

Diluc had told himself that this was for your own good.

That’s what gave him the ability to rest at night -- while holding the knowledge of all the freedoms he’s taken from you -- that you are safe. There’s air in your lungs, healthy color to your cheeks, and life shining brightly in your eyes. It’d be selfish to ask for anything more, he would reason. This is good enough, is what he’d think, not fully sure if he believed the creed himself. 

Now he knows those words were but a lie to cover a gaping wound in his heart.

He gazes at you now, his hand reaching out, only to stop when you flinch away. The reality that he tried so desperately to push down has risen to the surface, your turmoil not easily ignored. Diluc needs to remain steadfast as he considers hesitation an insult. Certainly, he is low for holding you here against your will, but it’d be that much worse if he started questioning himself. 

“I know,” is the strained answer he arrives at. You hear the pain in his voice, how the words were all but pried from him. “I’ve always known.” 

“Then why?” You plead, exasperation pushing you past the limit. His head is hung low for once, unable to meet your scrutinizing gaze, instead taking an acute interest in the wooden floorboard beneath his feet. 

It brings him back to his childhood, like a kid being scolded for an illogical grievance against their sibling. Your question strikes deep and close to the heart. His answer comes fast, almost robotic, as if he’s practiced it in the mirror countless times.

“For your safety.”

And so you won’t leave like everyone else has.

Exchanging thinly veiled antagonism behind the guise of banter has always thrilled Childe. This game the two of you play, he wouldn’t change it for the world, deriving too much satisfaction in your flustered reactions. Every day is spent thinking about when he’ll get to see you next, what words might bring out the cutest expressions. 

The manner you deliver the line is frigid and he can’t help but be reminded of  Snezhnaya’s climate. For a fleeting moment, it stings, like snowflakes against bare skin. If there’s anything Childe excels at, it’s warding off the cold. He laughs, once, twice, face illuminated with uncanny elation. 

You watch in disbelief as he treats your honest admission as nothing but a joke. There’s nothing you can think to say to describe the frustration that grows in the depths of your soul, Childe’s response encapsulating exactly why you said it in the first place. Half of you considers leaving him where he stands, but you know better, he’d follow after you relentlessly. A Fatui Harbinger’s ability to spot and track their prey cannot be understated.

When his laughter starts to settle down, he speaks. “So the truth comes out, hm?” 

Childe stalks towards you, sporting a wolf-like grin that sends shivers down your spine, every step you take back not enough to increase the space between you two. Eventually, your back hits the wall. Childe takes advantage of your lack of escape, taking your chin in his hand and placing his arm by your head. At that moment, it’s impossible to ignore the looming height difference, though he leans down to look at you closer.

“Hate me all you want,” he hums, his voice dipping lower with each syllable. “But I’m not going anywhere, ever, so keep that in mind. And who knows?”

Childe winks at you.

“Maybe I have a thing for being degraded.”

To be looked at with suspicion is nothing new to Kaeya. Everyone has their own reasons for doing so, whether it be to his cunning nature creating suspicion, or his country of origin. Though, he admits, your reasoning is far more personal than that. After all, his schemes have sent you into a whirlwind of misfortune. 

Kaeya moves back, observing how your chest rises and falls with each labored breath, the way you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s quietly grateful that your former entangled position didn’t grant you the ability to see his face, as shock undoubtedly must’ve crossed over it. Moment’s later, he’s collected, in control of every twitch and crease of his expression. 

“Hm, while I never excelled in my linguistics tutoring, I think I’m familiar enough with the word hate to draw a different conclusion,” Kaeya nods to your discarded clothes on the floor, to which you flush even brighter than before. “Is that what you’d call this? You were throwing yourself at me just a few seconds ago, y’know.” 

He’s getting under your skin on purpose. You know this, seeing the trap he’s laid out without even trying to hide it, yet still fall for it to defend yourself.

“Where else am I supposed to go, when no one even looks me in the eye anymore?” You challenge, wiping the saliva from your lips with the back of your hand. Kaeya hums, considering your inquiry, fingers rubbing circles into your skin as he does so. The contact makes your mind hazy, being deprived of physical contact having done a toll on you. To come to him for comfort is a blow to your pride.

“Your hand could’ve always helped with that, but you still chose mine.” Kaeya smiles, ducking down to press open-mouthed kisses against your neck. You decide not to honor him with any further response. It feeds into his ego and that’s the last thing you want, so you close your eyes and sigh. 

He pauses for a brief moment, not willing to let it go. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. I’ll always find a way to make time for you.” 

Zhongli places his cup of tea down onto the table, outward reaction schooled and giving nothing away. It’s a pathetic, last-ditch attempt to earn an emotional response, even you know this. From how he whispers archaic prose into your ear about his love and adoration for you, you were expecting at least... something. A frown, furrowed eyebrows, pain in his amber eyes. Anything. 

His visage remains unchanging. You drum your fingers against the table, narrowing your eyes and jutting your bottom lip out. It took you weeks to work up the courage to tell him this! Indignation and embarrassment blossom inside your chest, threatening to suffocate you. Any other time he’s talkative, but for some reason, he’s decided to take some vow of silence now. 

You perk up expectantly when he clears his throat. 

“It was never in the terms of our contract for you to have positive feelings towards me,” Zhongli decides, raising the cup to his lips and blowing. “Though, if I might add, I would personally like it if you did.” 

Maybe it would’ve been better if he stayed silent after all. There’s no validation to be found in his taciturn response, no substance to appease your burning frustration. The word contract sticks out like a sore thumb. Petty as it might be to continue this exchange, you feel vindicated enough to do just that.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the correct term would be marriage, not contract.”

“Are the two not one and the same? You’ve pledged yourself eternally to be my significant other, in the same way a contract binds two parties together.” Zhongli watches how you slide down into your seat dejectedly. Attempting to start an argument with Zhongli was akin to yelling at a brick wall, you decide.

“Don’t act so proud of yourself for swindling my parents into believing you’re an upstanding person.” 

His lips quirk up for the briefest of moments.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the term would be negotiating, not swindling.” 

You leave him to eat his breakfast alone. 

[mystic-shadows42]

Legitimate Heir

A/N: The story doesn’t flow as nicely as I hoped.

Pairing: Ivar x reader

Warnings: None...maybe some angst

Summary: The reader has a surprise for Ivar leaving Freydis to become mad with jealousy.

You laid on your side, in bed, next to a sleeping Ivar. You couldn’t help but admire him and gaze at his beautiful face.

It was nights like this that you couldn’t help but think. After you and Ivar were done being tangled in the sheets, you would always feel guilty.

Guilty for sleeping with a married man. Yes, you are the other woman that you promised yourself you wouldn’t be. All of this wasn’t planned or done with deceit.

You never thought of Ivar as more than your king. Your first conversation with Ivar ended up not being the last. It was when you touched hands that you both gasped at the connection.

It was as if your encounter was meant to be. You remember there being a spark in Ivar’s eyes when you both looked from where you touched then to each other’s faces.

There was a lingering feeling of being scared. Ways of love were unknown to you. Especially with a king no less.

‘Nothing would come of it’ was what you used to tell yourself whenever you thought of Ivar.

A king had no time or use for a random woman living in Kattegat. He was far too busy plotting and planning his next move. He already had a beautiful wife that he seemed to adore to no end.

Whenever you’d have to enter the great halls you’d try to keep your head down though you always found yourself peering past others to get a glimpse of Ivar. He’d always be slouched in his seat.

He always seemed to be deep in thought and far away from everybody else who appeared to be talking to him.

You knew that you couldn’t avoid him forever. You were a cook. The finest that Kattegat had to offer, so to speak by others who’ve told you so.

You remember telling that thralls to take the food out. You were quite nervous even though Ivar never even got to know your name.

A loud sound resonated throughout the whole hall and everybody grew quiet. You peeked behind the door to the kitchen and watched Ivar looking down at his food angrily.

“I am sick and tired of having fish. Why must I keep seeing it on my table when I am the King of Kattegat! Do I not protect you all and share my wealth? The cooks could at least serve me something more fitting for a king to eat.”

At Ivar’s huffing and puffing, Freydis placed her hand on his clenched one. You couldn’t help but feel jealous at the subtle touch.

You wondered if her touch was anything compared to the one you and Ivar shared. Did she feel the sparks with him too?

“My love, we are coming into our winter months. It’ll be hard raising any cattle at all let alone having options of meats.”

He pulled his hand away from hers in an abrupt manner making her sit back in her seat with what seemed to be embarrassment in front of others.

“I don’t care. I’ve already made up my mind. I must speak with the kitchen staff immediately.”

He moved quickly with his crutches, letting his frustration fuel his energy to walk hastily. You backed away and warned the others that the king was making his way over.

Everyone was scrambling to tidy themselves before they grouped up for his appearance. As much as you wanted to hide in the back of the kitchen staff, you didn’t.

You were the main cook so you had to take responsibility and whatever repercussions he would give you. Ivar had come in through the doors with narrowed brows and clenched fists.

“Who’s in charge of preparing my food?”

“We all are, my king.” One of the staff members spoke with their head bowed.

Ivar was about to say something when you approached in front of the staff and in his view.

“If there is any issue with your food, my king then you may deal with me. I’m the one who wanted to serve you fish.”

The anger on his face quickly dissipated when he recognized you. Now there would be no more hiding. He knows of your status and could find you wherever if he even wanted to.

After that, Ivar never let a day go by without making an excuse to see you. He’d sneak in subtle touches and leave sweet little notes behind.

The rest all seemed to be a distant memory compared to now. 

You traced Ivar’s jawline as he caressed your bare arms.

“I must tell you something Ivar.”

He briefly glanced at you and gestured with his hand to continue. 

“Speak freely, my love.”

You rolled to your side in bed and whispered in his ear. 

“I carry your child. Our child.”

You felt giddy on the inside, full of nerves but excited at the same time. When Ivar turned over in bed and looked at you with his eyes filled with hope, you knew nothing else mattered.

“Have the gods truly blessed us? I thought it was impossible for me.” He was lost in thought as he remembered what being crippled meant. No heirs to further his legacy.

Though now, he had hope. You placed your hand delicately on the side of his cheek so he could look at you.

“The gods have blessed us. Blessed our relationship. We must tell everyone there’s an heir to be welcomed.”

Ivar was beyond excited. He planted your entire face with kisses.

Later that night you dressed in one of your finest dresses that Ivar gifted you. You were among the people of Kattegat in the great hall waiting for Ivar to share the exciting news.

There was a permanent smile on your face just waiting in anticipation. You felt like you were glowing when Ivar appeared staring out at everyone.

“People of Kattegat, I bring exciting news!” His blue eyes seemed to light up the entire room. It was a look you wish he always had on. “I’m going to be a father!”

Cheers erupted and pleasantries were yelled out in the excitement. You would’ve covered your ears if it didn’t involve you.

“Come up here my love. Wherever you are.”

You made your way through the crowd with your eyes only trained on Ivar the whole time. Your heart was racing erratically, the cheers only fueling your pace to reach Ivar.

Though Freydis was the one who made it to the front before you did. Perhaps Ivar didn’t reveal your pregnancy to her yet. Ivar placed his hand on Freydis’ stomach.

“Your queen is pregnant!”

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of you. It couldn’t be. Ivar had always spent his time with you. He gave her a kiss and you had to look away. 

It was then that you were reminded of your place. Ivar was never yours. You were just a mistress and Freydis his wife.

After their display of affection, Ivar scanned the crowd until he found you. He saw your tear-streaked face and made a move to you but Freydis stopped him. She glanced over to you and spoke to him.

His eyes never left yours but once Freydis was done saying what she had to say, he shook his head at you.

There was no fight in you tonight. You were drained beyond belief at this sudden news. You wanted to be angry, but couldn’t. At the end of the day, Freydis was his.

You believed yourself to be naive when it came to him. He told you he hadn’t touched her. That he’d leave her for you. Now you knew it was all lies.

You fell back into the crowd letting everyone else surpass you. Something had happened between earlier and now. Ivar hadn’t faked his excitement. For now, you just wanted to be alone.

One of the thralls had her head bowed to you and opened the door that you shared with Ivar but you walked past it. This wasn’t your home, it never was.

What everyone didn’t know was that Freydis had found out about your pregnancy and panicked which caused her to lie because she knew you carried Ivar’s legitimate heir.

Tagged: @belovedcherry​ @lordsexmachine​ @lol-haha-joke​ @mariaenchanted​ @ethereallysimple​ @bababasti​ @ir-abelas-telanadas​ @soleil-dor​ @youbloodymadgenius​

[strawberry-jammers]

A child to protect (pt2)

tommyinnit x child!reader|| things dont go as planned

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

“Tommy what is this?” dream asks, looking at the, rightfully, scared boy. “U-uh well-” “you lied to me.” dream says, going into the no longer hidden room. “The only rule was to burn you stuff everytime i came here, yet you kept things from me. Tommy you disobeyed me.”

its 1 am and idk what's going on anymore

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“What, dream come on, did i really disobey you-.” dream cut tommy off again, “yes tommy. Yes you did. I'm blowing this place up, destroying your portal. You'll have to start all over again, and you won't have any access to the nether.” dream moved, placing TNT down. “Come on dream, you don't have to do this. Please dream.” 

“No tommy, you tested me one to many times.” dream lit the TNT. the room and house blowing up slightly. Some of his things didn't get destroyed, so he quickly grabbed, making sure dream didn't notice. 

Dream went around. Destroying everything on sight. Tnret, the portal, the rest of the little area ghostbur made, everything. Once dream left, tommy was left alone with the barren area he once lived. Everyhome he had was destroyed or taken, wasn't it?

Tommy built up. He was tired, he didnt wanna deal with dream anymore.he didnt want to be exiled anymore, he wanted none of this.

Tommy finished his tower, staring out around him. At the ocean, the holes dream created with the explosive, the small hut in the distance-

The small hut. (y/n)! 

Tommy still had his kid, he still had the baby he has been raising for the past months of his life. Dream didn't take everything, for there was one thing he still had, and that was his child.

Tommy looked down, seeing a small yet big enough pond. He jumped down, aiming for the body of water. Splashing, he swam up towards the surface. “Go get (y/n), and then think of a plan later.'' Tommy swam out of the pond, running off towards the hut he had made oh so many months ago.

Bursting threw the door, he saw the baby laying in their crib, crying as they always did when he visited. He'll be able to take care of the baby properly soon.

"Hey (n/n), hey shhh you hungry?" The baby cried still, not understanding what he was saying. Tommy grabbed some of the milk he had stored, and put it in a bottle for the child. "Come here." Tommy picked up the small child, and started to feed them. They seemed to calm down. 

"I'm glad he didn't find you. I don't know what i would've done if he did." When they where done, he took the bottle from (y/n) and sat it down. “Idk what to do now….” the child made sounds as usual. “Let's go on a walk, ill figure something out then.” getting up, he left the hut to walk around the woods a bit. They saw many animals as they walked. Tommy sat down near a tree and let the baby crawl around a bit. Tommy watched them, making sure they were safe. 

(Y/n) crawled around, fascinated with all the animals. They crawled up to a pig, wanting to pet the pink creature. Tommy got up and grabbed the baby, "hey hey, don't touch the pig. pigs are gross. I knew a pig once. Terrible man he was little (f/i)." The baby made grabby hands at the pig. "You really like pigs don't you…." Tommy thought for a moment. He decided to visit technoblade. 

"Okay (y/n), we’re gonna go live somewhere else. I'm gonna make you some warm clothes and pack up!” Tommy went back into the hut, placing down the baby on their crib. “Okay, time to fucking pack. It's really only (y/n)s stuff but whatever.” tommy spent a half hour getting things ready for them to leave. He dressed (y/n) up for the excursion. 

“Alright little (f/i), lets go visit the blade.” the child laughed, thinking he was funny. “Alright then, lets go!” they left the plains biome and headed towards technos house, that's somewhere in the snow.

(y/n) didn't like the trip very much.

“I know it's cold, but we have to get there! (y/n) please don't cry, fuuck, its okay its okay.” (y/n) was very cold, the snow being harsher than Tommy had originally thought it would be. “I know, I know, it's cold, but we’ll get there soon. I hope.” they continued there walk thru the snow. 

It had turned night, and Tommy had finally found technoblades house. (y/n) had calmed down after the snow had stopped falling. Tommy had to constantly run from monsters, making sure none of them hit (y/n).

“Fucling finally!! Took forever to get here.'' Tommy looked around to see if the technoblade wasn't there. He didn't see a nametag, so he had to assume the blade was off doing something else. “Alright, we've made it.'' Tommy opened the door, immediately seeing zombie villagers in boats. “AHHH!” he yelled, (y/n) started crying at the loud yelling. “Sorry sorry.” Tommy quieted down as he looked around the house, and soon started going through the chests to steal things. “Oooo, here (y/n) have a gapple. You can't eat it but you can at least look at it.” the child happily took the pretty fruit, gumming at it happily. “Aaawww you got saliva all over it. Gross.” Tommy says, annoyed. 

“Okay, time to make a home under his house.” The child was paying more attention to the apple than they were to tommy. Tommy huffed, sitting (y/n) down, far away from the zombies, and started to dig down.

He made a nice room for them, enough blocks down so he wouldn't be able to hear them. Tommy climbed back up to grab his baby. “C’mere little (f/i)!” he says, walking up to the small child who was still trying to eat the gapple. They were unsuccessful. He grabbed the child. “Gimme the gapple (y/n).” he says, taking it from them. (y/n) whined slightly, wanting the gapple back. Tommy sighs. “Fine you can have it.” Tommy gives them back the apple. (y/n) laughs happily. He smiles, climbing down the hole to their new home.

“Alright little (f/i), this is our home now!” He sits them near the prime log. “This is the prime log, be very careful it's an important thing.” the child crawls over to it, trying to climb on it. Tommy sees this and puts them on the prime log. “(y/n), ruler of the prime log!” the child laughed, clapping. “(y/n), how does it feel to be so cool?” he asks. They just said incoherent words instead. 

They played around for a bit longer, till the child fell asleep on the log. Tommy picked them up, putting them in their new crib. “Good night (y/n).” he says, going to his own bed to try and sleep for the night. 

This time he actually did.

[beels-burger-babe]

Waiting in the Wings

***Happy Birthday Week Luke! This is a fluffy one. I don't get to write Simeon and Luke often, so this was interesting to sort of experiment with. I hope you guys enjoy! *** Summary: A talent show is being held at RAD; knowing the vocal talents of a certain young angel, you encourage Luke to join. Only Luke doesn't seem too fond of the idea. Together, you and Simeon do your best to give Luke the courage to shine.

The doors to Purgatory Hall slammed open as you raced inside with a blue flyer clenched in your hand. You rushed into the kitchen where you knew you would find your target. Luke, as expected, stood there is a light blue apron, whisking some kind of batter in a bowl. You excitedly waved the flyer in Luke's face. "Did you see this?! There's going to be a talent show?"

Luke squeaked at your sudden appearance and almost dropped the bowl. He took a moment to set it on the counter and grumbled something under his breath before taking the paper from your hands. You watched eagerly as his eyes scanned the page. He gasped and looked up at you in excitement. "RAD is hosting a talent show?! That's so cool! I wonder if Simeon's going to enter? He could probably read a poem he wrote, or act out one of his monologues," a tender look of admiration spilled into Luke's expression as he looked at the flyer. He shook his head and looked over at you. "What about you MC? Are you entering?" You chuckled and shook your head. "No. It's not really my thing. But I know someone with an incredible voice that would blow the rest of the competition out of the water!"

You thought that your words made it quite obvious that you were talking about Luke. You had first heard him sing months ago when Asmodeus dragged you to a tea party that he had been invited to by Simeon and Luke had performed for the three of you and Barbatos. His voice was truly the work of angels and was unlike anything you had ever heard before. It was remarkable to think that such a large talent could fit inside his small body.

Evidently, you weren't obvious enough.

Luke's eyes got even wider and he bounced slightly in excitement. "That's amazing! Who is it? You should definitely get them to enter! I'd love to hear them sing. Maybe they could teach me a couple of things." You smirked at his obliviousness and light-heartedly pushed the young angel. "Well, it'll be sort of hard for you to teach yourself what you already know."

Luke blinked at you several times, and you could practically see the math equations floating around his head. As he had his light bulb moment, his face paled and Luke quickly shook his head. "No! Absolutely not! I am not doing it!" "What aren't you doing?" The two of you whipped around to see Simeon watching the two of you in amusement. Your heart fluttered at the mere sight of him.

This, unfortunately, wasn't new. Although your feelings for Simeon weren't something that was apparent right away, they had grown more and more as you spent more time together. There was no denying the angel was handsome, however, there was so much more to him than that. He was intelligent and creative, able to outwit even some of the brothers with ease. He was incredibly compassionate and open-minded about the creatures in the Devildom. In one word, Simeon was bright. He radiated joy and peace where ever he went. You didn't know if it was an effect of being an angel or if it was who he truly was, but regardless, it was slowly but surely winning over your heart. You smiled at him and handed him the flyer. "I was telling Luke how I think that he should sing in the upcoming talent show." Simeon grinned widely at his charge, "Oh, that sounds like a wonderful idea! You have an incredible vo-"

"NO!" You both looked at Luke in shock. He didn't lash out often unless it was at one of the brothers. He most certainly never raised his voice at Simeon. Yet here he stood with his eyes screwed shut and hands balled into fists as they shook; whether they shook with anger or something else, you weren't sure. He scowled at both of you. "I'm not going to sing for a bunch of filthy demons on a stage in f-front of hundreds of students! Are you insane?" Simeon and you exchanged glances of concern. Simeon moved closer to his charge and placed a hand on his shoulder; like a parent trying to soothe their child. "Luke, if you really don't want to do it, that's okay. No one will force you. But I have to ask...Is the reason you don't want to perform because you have stage fright?" Luke blushed and looked away. "N-No! I don't have stage fright! I-I just don't want to waste my celestial talents on these demonic scum!"

He was clearly lying. Yes, he was upset, but behind that anger, you could see a small trace of sadness; as though his mind, which filled him with fear of the audience's judgement, and his heart, which yearned to sing for all to hear, were at war.

If the angel you had come to know as a brother wanted to perform, that god damn it, you were going to make sure he would be able to perform! "Well, what if I was there with you?" You asked in genuine curiosity. His head snapped up to look at you. "B-But you said it's not your thing?" You tried not to smile at his concern for you, and instead casually shrugged it off. "I could stand in the wings and be right there cheering you on. I could also help you practice and get ready; that way you feel more confident about it." Simeon nodded and patted Luke's hat. "You wouldn't be doing this alone. MC and I would be right by your side if this is something that interests you. I'm sure Barbatos would love to see you perform. MC and I would certainly enjoy it." Luke shifted from foot to foot as he thought about it. The room held its breath as you waited for his decision to be revealed. He glanced over at you nervously. "You'll be right there?" Your chest warmed as you were momentarily reminded of just how young Luke really is. You gently squeezed his shoulder and nodded. "I won't leave you for even a second." Luke let out a big breath before a gleam of determination filled his eyes and he balled his fists. "Okay! I'll do it! I'll sing at the show!" You smiled brightly in silent victory as Simeon laughed and hugged Luke. "Wonderful! Looks like the two of us have our work cut for us! When would you like to begin preparing?" "Now!" Luke took off out of the room, "I know the perfect song! I have the sheet music in my room! I'll be right back!" Simeon chuckled as Luke vanished from sight in a white and blue blur and looked over at you. There was a shimmer of fondness and affection in his eyes that caused your breath to catch in your throat.

"Thank you for talking him into this. He truly does enjoy singing, and I think he would've regretted it if he didn't join. He's very fond of you," Simeon's voice was as soft as the clouds that he had descended from. You scratched the back of your neck and awkwardly tried to brush off his thanks. "It's nothing. Luke means a lot to me too. He's like a little brother, you know?" If possible, his expression became even more tender as he looked deep into your eyes and gave you the most gentle smile. "Yes. I suppose I do."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, before you noticed Simeon shift a little. You wouldn't quite say it was an action of discomfort but there was clearly something on his mind.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked with a reassuring smile.

Simeon, much to your surprise, blushed. "I was just thinking. I suppose with you aiding us, you'll be spending more time here at Purgatory Hall, will you not?"

You blinked a couple of times at the question. You supposed it was true. Within the next two weeks leading up to the talent show, you would probably be spending the majority of your time here with Luke, and as a result, with Simeon as well. You nodded in response to the question as you felt your own cheeks grow warm.

Simeon's twinkled as his expression lit up. "It will be lovely getting to spend more time with you. You-"

Before Simeon could say much more, Luke burst back into the room waving a stack of papers.

"S-So this is what I'm thinking. I have options, but I don't know which ones to choose!" He paused as he picked up on the obvious energy change in the room and frowned. "What's going on in here?" Simeon chuckled and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Nothing at all. Now, you mentioned you had options?" Luke took the bait easily and began excitedly explaining each of his song selections. Throughout the next two weeks, you and Simeon worked together to help get Luke in tiptop shape to perform. You ran vocal scales with him as Simeon played the notes on the piano. You helped him memorize the lyrics, while Simeon aided him in getting the melody and key right. Using your influence with Diavolo and the brothers, you were even able to get him into the theatre that the show would be hosted at, and gave him the opportunity to practice on stage while in advance. During this time you found yourself growing closer and closer with Simeon. The two of you would exchange secret smiles with one another when you thought Luke wasn't looking. You found yourself more aware of his presence and his notable attention towards you. You would glance over at him, only to find he was already looking at you. Simeon would frequently put his hand on your shoulder or ruffle your hair. The actions always left you flustered, which simply made him smile even more.

Luke wasn't oblivious to the budding romance between the two of you. He noticed all too easily what was happening and instantly approved. After all, it was much better that you be courted by a gentleman such as Simeon than one of those fiendish brothers.

So he decided to do his part in aiding the matter. He often made up excuses in the middle of practice that would leave the two of you alone in a room. He always made sure you two sat down beside each other. Luke would come up with clever little things that "Simeon needed to do," just after practice ended and would always turn to you immediately after insisting that you help.

If either you or Simeon noticed what he was doing, neither of you mentioned it.

The two of you may have started this as a mission to help Luke feel comfortable on stage, but Luke quickly turned it into a mission to get his two favourite people together.

Time flew by, and before anyone could blink, the day of the show had finally arrived.

The theatre was elegantly decorated with red and gold streamers hanging on the balconies and bouquets of roses lining the aisles.

Backstage, dozens of performers anxiously fretted about, running over their talents one last time before their big moment in the spotlight. Simeon had performed a romantic monologue earlier in the evening. As he spoke, you couldn't help bet notice that his gaze would continuously fall onto you; something that made Luke beam with joy. Since then another handful of performers had gone up, Luke was next. The angel stood between you and Simeon in the wings, as he nervously twisted his hat in his hands. "I-I-I can't do this. I change my mind. I'm not gonna do it," he tried to turn and flee, but you quickly caught him.

"Woah, woah, woah. Easy there, Luke. You worked so hard on this. You can't just back out now!" Your heart broke as you felt just how badly the poor boy was shaking. You knelt down in front of him and placed your hands on his shoulders as you looked deeply into his eyes. "Luke, it's going to be okay. You've practiced day and night for this. You're going to blow the socks off of everyone out there. Simeon and I will be right here with you the entire performance."

Luke sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "Promise? You'll be here when I finish?" Simeon came up behind you and placed a hand on your back as he knelt down beside you. "We aren't going anywhere."

Luke smiled faintly at the sight of the two of you so close and nodded. "O-Okay. I suppose I can do it then."

You pulled Luke into a hug and held him tightly. "You've got this Luke. Go show them all what the Celestial realm is really made of!"

Luke hugged you back as his name was called out by the emcee. With a nervous smile, he put his hat back on and walked out onto the stage. You held your breath as he approached the mic. What if something went wrong? What if the mic didn't work? What if the audience was mean? A hand wrapped around your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked over to see Simeon holding onto your hand. He grinned at you and brought your hand to his lips, delicately kissing your skin. "Have faith, MC. Everything is going to be fine." You weren't sure if it was the heat from the spotlights or the number of people in the room, but you felt like you were going to melt. You nodded and squeezed his hand in return as the music began. Just as expected, Luke was absolutely incredible. He sang with all the glory of the heavens. As his voice filled the theatre, you could've sworn that the lights shone just a little bit brighter. There wasn't a dry eye in sight; no one could deny the beauty in his talent.

Once he took his final bows, he practically sprinted back to the two of you where he was immediately scooped up into the arms of a proud Simeon. "That was incredible Luke! Truly a remarkable performance!"

Luke laughed and hugged his mentor back. "You guys were right! After I started singing, it wasn't scary at all! Thank you so much for helping me do this." You fondly ruffled Luke's hair and beamed at him. "All we did was give you the confidence to go out there. You did everything else yourself."

Luke's chest puffed out in some well-earned pride as he soaked in the praise from the two of you.

Simeon finally let him go and smiled down at him. "Now, what do you say we go celebrate? I have reservations for the three of us at Restaurante Six."

Luke's eyes widened, and you could practically see the scheming thoughts cycle through his brain. The young angel let out a dramatic yawn as he stretched. "You know performing really tired me out. I think I'll head home with Solomon. It'd be a shame for that reservation to go to waste though; you two should go together."

You blinked at Luke in shock, as a knowing smirk climbed onto Simeon's face. He turned to you with coy, yet loving, eyes and held out his hand. "Well, what do you say, MC? Care to accompany me to dinner this evening?"

You gaped at him for a second, as Luke watched the interaction in excitement. You stumbled upon your words for a second before finally getting them out. "I-I, um, yes! Yes. I would l-love that."

"YES!" The two of you quickly looked over at Luke as he jumped around in celebration. Seeing that he was caught, he froze before chuckling nervously and scratching the back of his neck. "I-I mean, bummer that I got join you two. Have a good night!" Just like that, Luke took off to go find Solomon.

You sighed and shook your head. "He's a trouble maker."

Simeon laughed and took your hand into his and he pulled you close to him. "Perhaps, but if the result of his mischief allows me to spend more time with you, then I, for one, am grateful," he kissed the top of your hands once more and offered out his arm to you. "Shall we?"

Your heart fluttered as you took his arm and allowed him to escort you out of the theatre and into what promised to be a memorable evening.

***This was a process for sure, but I think I'm happy with how it turned out! Thank you everyone for reading and supporting me and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SON, LUKE!!!!***

Taglist: @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @pebblesgengar @victoireshaven @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino

[venushasvixens]

Ch. 11 - Fightin’ Words - Life is but a Dream (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

[A/N] to clarify before I begin, I do NOT hate Faye. There will be a following chapter to explain how we got from point A to point B, since now that I see it, this chapter seems like a stretch. I apologize if the writing is a little shitty, I got too excited when writing it, and I was basically vomiting words onto my screen. Enjoy!

Previous chapter: Ch.10

⛔️ WARNING: this chapter contains implied sexual content, drinking, and strong language

-

There is a clear difference in kissing. One was for lust, meant to excite and give pleasure to the receiving, as a plus on to tie in all the ingridients for good sex. The other was for love, showing affection and those deep emotional feelings that both parties were in need of.

The lines were blurring.

Wanting this to be a strictly physical relationship, other elements started to incorporate their way into your escapades. And now Spike knows almost everything about you. Eating habits, what makes you laugh, and the type of people you hate. Talking for hours on end, both of life and it’s ridiculous nature, there was no off time between you both. It felt good.

The quiet moment after you left his room for your own, a faltering feeling of sadness and loneliness enters Spike. The urge to grab you and bring you back to his bed for the night was strong. He tried to get you to stay (always subtly), but to no avail. Well aware of your need for space, he always respected your decision.

The crank that was once rusty, was in Spike’s head as his mind ran endlessly of if you liked him or not. It was a thought, a discussion he wanted to put off for so long. The consequences of his doubt were going to hurt, especially when it was going to be that time to go. The reassurance that this was only a fling, a friends with benefits deal, was on its way to be tossed out of the trash chute into space.

“Trust me, Spiegel, I’ve had plenty of time as a child to know what I’m talking about.” You said as Spike passed you his cigarette.

“About what?” He asked, completely clueless.

“Rocks. Crystals, geodes. Have you not been listening?” You scolded, scoffing as Spike shook his head.

“The library in the city gave the orphanage books they didn't want anymore. My favorite book was the one about rocks on Mars, of course it was simplified for my small brain…”

Head in his hand, Spike listened as you rambled mindlessly of all the different rock formations on Mars. As much as he wanted to learn, he couldn’t help but be distracted by his acknowledgment of your presence. More specifically, the air you brought in the room. Spike began to think of it as his favorite perfume, sweet and sultry, with a hint of spice. It made him feel safe.

You were so attractive when you were educating him. He hated to hear it from Jet or anyone else, but you made it interesting.

“You’re pretty hot.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah thanks. Anyways, like I was saying…”You replied, flattered by his sudden proclamation.

“I’m serious. You’re talking all smart to me, and I can’t help but tell you that.” Spike smirked. “I think I learned more from you than in high school.”

You laughed softly. “I tell you because I know you’re dumber than a bag of hammers.”

“Is that so?” Spike raised his eyebrows. Why was your teasing making him feel even better? “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“I only have one, and not that.” You smiled slyly, the glint in Spike’s eye becoming more noticeable.

“I’m about to make it two.”

“I would love to see you try.”

You put your hands up to defend yourself, Spike’s smooth moves rendering you helpless. In a second, he had your arms pinned down by your sides, a deep throated chuckle emitting from him as he watched you struggle. There was no danger but that of falling to his charm and whim.

“I don’t regret this.” You panted.

“Sounds like the best decision I’ve made.” Spike mumbled, gaze traveling all over your face. He brushes the stray hairs from your face, fingers tracing your hairline and ears. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your neck, threatening to brush his lips on yours.

“Can I ask you something?” Spike broke the silence. You nodded eagerly.

“I-“ He began, cut off by the loud knocking on the door.

“Spike? Spike? Are you there?” Jet called out.

There is no answer, except you panicking over whether Jet sees you naked or sprawled out on Spike’s bed. The only sound that could’ve been heard was the thuds of you scrambling around the room, looking for your bra and panties. Spike watches in amusement, not caring at all at the dilemma you both were in.

“Yeah?” Spike called out, the clink of his lighter going off.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come up to the bridge for a drink, got a few good bottles of gin from our last bounty.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Good.” Jet finished. Footsteps drew further away down the hallway and supposdely onto the stairs. You sighed in relief, getting dressed at a leisurely pace. Safe, once again.

“Y/n, you can come too if you would like.” The loud booming laughter of Jet filled the hallway, masking your dread.

This evening was going to be delightful.

-

“Where's the gin?” You said in confidence, like you weren’t just caught in Spike’s room. Hopefully he wouldn’t see the slight limp in your step either.

“I have it, but I knew it would be a good bait to get some help up here.” He replied.

“Then I want at least half the bottle as a down payment. And an apology.” You scowled, taking a peek on the holo computer, skimming over the briefing for the next bounty.

Jet chuckled. “Now young lady, I have something very important to ask you.”

“Huh, you and Spike. I’m not too scared of yours.” You glanced at him, sitting in his seat.

Jet rested himself against the table, nodding. “I was going to say that us boys and Ed really enjoy you here. These last few months have been the best one this ship has seen in a while, and you are welcome to stay however long you want, kid.”

You knew you were doing well, but now you caught the bag. Jackpot. “You’re just saying that because I feed you all.”

“That's part of it too.” Jet grinned. “But I’m serious, (y/n). I think all of us could vote in favor of a new crew member. What do you say?”

Thinking, you remembered your freedom, sought as a child. That’s all you ever wanted, was to be out and allowed to do whatever you could. But deep down, the thing you really needed was a home. A family.

You could find that here on the Bebop. Even if you got a rocky start, it was smooth sailing for now. You felt wanted. That’s what you needed.

“Doesn’t sound too bad. I’m down.” You beamed.

“Glad you agreed, or else it would’ve been real awkward if you said no.” Jet replied, giving you a soft pat on your back.

“Mmm, would you kick me out if I declined this most generous offer?” You teased.

“Kid, you have my respect, I would let you pack first then throw you out.”

You cracked up, the deal was done. As you sat in your new home, you couldn't help but feel eternally grateful. “I really owe you one, Jet. You really got me out of a tight spot.”

Jet nodded as he searched for something on the control board.

“Was..was that how Spike came around? Picked him up like a stray?” You asked, surprised at your brazen question.

Jet stops messing with the controls, paused as he tries to peace his words together. “To be honest, I can’t even remember when or how Spike joined me here. He just popped up one day, and I haven’t been able to shake him off.” Jet gave a small titter. “Ah, (y/n). The man’s been through it tough.”

“Can I ask?” You said meekly.

“All that time spent together, and he hasn’t told you?” Jet chaffed, a smirk starting to grow.

Shit. “We haven’t spent much time talking today.” Fuck it, no use in denying it now.

“That’s what I thought.” He snickered. “Well, let me put it this way. A heartbroken man is a lonely one. He roams the galaxy in search of finding a way to fill the void left in him, either desperate to find something new. Or leave the void empty, allowing himself to wither away peacefully.”

“Hmm.” You replied shortly. A lot wasn't said, but it made sense.

“I’m only saying this once, (Y/n). He’s changing, and for the better. I haven’t seen him smile so much sober. I have to thank you for that.”

You made a change, as small as it was. You hear footsteps approaching the bridge, the sliding door opening to reveal Spike. As he quietly passes you by, he shoots you a small wink, making you blush. Spike sits down with a sigh, his legs propped up on the control panel.

“Easy, I’m still working there.” Jet warns as he hands Spike a drink.

“Then how come you're not sitting here?” He smirks, side-eyeing you to watch him kick up dirt.

You smile back, letting their conversation fade away slowly. This moment, you had to screenshot it. It doesn’t look like a normal family, but it wasn't dysfunctional. You had a crazy red haired computer genius as a sibling, along with a dog that you think could do math better than you. It topped nicely with a protective mentor and teacher with one robotic arm, and a man who you didn't think you could even get near without getting your arm bitten off.

Someone was missing. She hasn’t been seen all day, but that’s typical. As an official member of the Bebop, there was no back burner now. You could turn off your predatory instinct on your prey. The hunt on Faye was over. You didn't have to be her best friend, just tolerate her attitude enough when she decides to stay on the ship for longer than a day. You really didn't want to fight her, but sometimes she made it so difficult. Besides, you were too tired anyways.

The little get together was carrying on joyfully, now joined by Ed and Ein. Ed wandered aimlessly in all directions on the bridge, babbling on about all the buttons and flashing lights. You sat next to Spike in your own chair, feeling the small soft padded pushes of Ein on your legs.

“What is it boy?” You asked sweetly, reaching down to rub the top of his ears. He jumps on his hind legs, trying his best to climb up onto your lap. You cooed at him, picking him up and placing him snuggly on your thighs. You swore you could’ve seen him smile as your pet his fluffy face, massaging his soft head.

Spike leaned over, whispering. “Do you think I can get a massage too?”

Before you could respond, Ein gave a small huff, one eye opening to watch out for his competition. “I’m sorry, but the baby said no.”

Jet laughed as Spike smiled. You looked down to see that Spike’s glass was still full, while Jets was drained of all gin. You were working on yours at a slower pace. “You don’t feel like drinking tonight?”

“Hmm?” Spike looked down at his drink, sloshing it against its glass walls. “ Oh, I’ll get to it.” He said before reaching out and touching your back gently, his fingers tracing circles on your spine.

What a win-win situation, Ein gets to be loved on and you get to be petted, you thought. Goosebumps rose on your arms as Spike continued. The sky turned to night, all the stars in the galaxy could be seen from the bridge’s giant front window. Ed was curled up in a ball in front of it, tuckering herself out. Ein provided some warmth to Ed, loafing on Ed’s stomach. Their snores mixed in together, obnoxiously loud, but incredibly cute.

Spike never got to his drink, so he offered it to you instead. Two was all you needed to finish off the night. You took over Ein’s spot on Spike’s lap, your arms wrapped around his neck as you conversated with the boys. His hands rubbed the side part of your stomach before interlocking, his heated palms providing comfort. You wouldn’t mind falling asleep here.

The flash of Faye’s Redtail blinded you as she clumsily parked out on the flight deck. You didn't care as long as she didnt destroy the hangar, then you all would be in huge trouble.

“She’s home early.” Jet stated, watching as she stumbled out of the ship.

“It’s not even midnight yet. Think she missed us?” Spike called out sarcastically.

“Doubt it.”

This was the last of peaceful silence for the night, you thought. You were hoping not to jinx it.

BAM!

Everybody around you whipped their heads to the source of the sound, except yours, because you knew exactly who it was and what was going to happen. Ein used Ed’s stomach as a launching pad, frightened at the loud noise. What could you say, you have a knack for sensing a challenge. The only thing was, you were not in a mood to seek it. It was brought to you, sucking all good energy out of the room and switching it to a fireball of jealousy.

In walked a staggering Faye, pleased with her grand entrance. She tipped to one side, before switching to the other slightly. Just one look was all it took before you gulped the rest of your drink down, flipping the glass on its head. You could see out of the corner of your eye Spike’s focus was on you. His brows furrowed, head tilting as if to ask what were you doing. Your reply was a swift head rub, his hair swooshing.

“Evening, Faye.” Jet chimed, pushing the bottle of gin closer to his side behind him on his control board. There was no way she was getting any more tonight.

Your gaze changed to Jet, who you thought could also sense the new air in the bridge. He sat at the edge of his seat, arm resting on his knee. What was he waiting for?

A small hiccup bounced off the metal walls, prompting Faye to trip and catch herself on the main control board in the middle of the room. Her eyes closed, she began to shake her head side to side, a small manic giggle escaping her mouth.

“You just-just can’t keep your fucking hands off of him, can’t you?”

You felt a shiver of shock rest on your shoulders as you turned your head to face Faye. Before you could speak, Spike opened his mouth to defend you.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Spike retorted, his hands now pressed firmly on your waist.

“Everything was just fine without her, you-“ Faye snarled as she pointed to Jet, “just had to have a heart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Jet replied cautiously.

Faye circled around the control table, using it as support or else she tumbled over. A mumbled slur of insults, consisting of calling you a slut and Spike an idiot. She was drunk, you thought. Let it run off like water. She will be fine once she’s in her bed, snoring her way into a killer hangover. You couldn’t shake that feeling that you needed to start gearing up. You wiggled out of Spike’s hold, planting your feet firmly down as you lean on the control table.

“I..I honestly don’t get it.” Faye said aloud.

“Get what, Faye?” You piped up, the slightest shake in your voice.

Oh! So it can talk!” She cackled out loud. “Let me tell you what, since you asked!”

“Please, I would love to know.”

Her pointer finger shoved right in your face, furiously wanting to make contact. “I-I find it hard to believe that you managed to get him to fuck you.”

“Jesus, Faye, in front of the kids?”

“Fuck that! She’s going to hear what I have to say, whether the slut likes it or not.”

As angry as you should’ve been, coolness was all you displayed. The voice in the back of your head reminded you of unforgettable advice you knew all too well. Alcohol could be a very good truth serum.

“What a f-fucking slut … you know how I think y-you managed to stay on this tin can of a ship?” She muttered. “You have to be f-fucking the captain.”

“That’s enough! Leave until you sober up.” Jet stood up, standing in the space between you and Faye. “Not having any of that on my ship.”

You looked at Spike, face frozen in a silent menacing fury. Leaning back on the console, you kept glancing to see Faye moving further and further away towards the door. That was it, the show's over. But someone had some kind parting words.

“Hey, how about this! I bet Spike has to cover your face while fucking your ugly ass, I would too, you stupid-“

Your knuckles had never stung so bad, but it felt so good to watch Faye’s head swing back. A flurry of raged-filled punches landed on either side of her face, so fast it didnt give her enough time to react. Waking up, Faye gave a heavy footed kick to your side, prompting you to scream out in pain.

Each swing of her high leg swings missed as you ducked, giving you a chance for an uppercut into her stomach. You could hear the sound of the wind knocking out of her with each punch. Faye’s hand pulled your hair back roughly, fists meeting across your face, swiping your nose. Intense pressure built up, the threat of blood leaking out of your nose becoming evident. She wanted to play dirty?

We can play dirty.

You used everything you had in you. Scratching, biting, kicking. You were not going to lose. You did not give two shits if she was vulnerable, this bitch was going down. It felt like forever until you felt the strong arms of Spike yanking you away from the fighting ground.

“Hey, hey, hey!” You heard Jet roar, becoming a flesh and metal cage around Faye’s upper arms, taking a small beating as she tried to claw her way back to you. Ed was yelping and screaming at the top of her lungs, while Ein barked and yowled at the commotion.

“Stop, (y/n), its me you’re hitting, damn it!” Spike yelped as you gave the last swings, realizing that the fight was just about over. You panted, the painful injection of adrenaline overcame your body. You watched on in pity as Jet tried to get Faye to calm down. As you trudged back to your seat, with the help of Spike, the last word was finally given out of the door.

“Get comfy bitch, I’m going nowhere!” You screamed.

“And I know who burned your ship, but there’s no way I’m telling you, you dumb cunt!”

Other insults flew in your direction, but were ignored. You stood in disbelief as you let the major bombshell play over and over. Feeling the soft tug of Spike pulling you back gently down to your seat, letting you wallow for a second. He knelt in front of you, examining your growing black eye and red welts on your face. “Damn, that's going to leave a mark.”

You looked away from him, tears welling in your eyes.

“Oh (y/n), I didn't mean it like that, it doesn’t look that bad.” Spike apologized as you sniffled.

“It’s not that. I-its that..'' sobs so quietly, but causes the greatest quivering, “she knows who did this to me, and won't even fess up because she hates me. What kind of shit is that?”

Tears fell freely onto your lap, pain induced by your loss fueling more hurt. It was so cold by yourself, a shell encasing you in. Through the mists of your tears, the shell was just Spike’s chest moving closer in. The heat of his body provided consolation without words, the tightness and slight rocking bringing you down to a clearer, more relaxed consciousness.

“I’ll catch them for you.” Spike mumbled into your ear, his hands massaging the back of your head. “It won't bring anything back, but if that will make you feel better, I'll do it.”

This wasn’t an empty promise. There was sincerity behind Spike’s words, wanting to help you. It was now confirmed just how much you meant to him. He was willing to assist for payback. His offer was sweet, but it didn't feel right. This wasnt his struggle, it was yours.

You were going to catch them, and only God knew the hell you were going to bring.

[ninyard]

more stefan/andrew au? the last one was fucking amazing

(following on from pt 2 kinda following canon a lil bit but imagining their relationship panning out earlier than it did in the series? Fab)

Part 1 / part 2

-

“Andrew?” Neil was woken up by Seth’s pissed-off, tired moan. “Get the fuck out of here, you fuckin’ freak.” Neil heard the rustling of covers and Andrew’s footsteps coming into the room. “Yo, hey, are you deaf?!” It’d been a couple days since the incident in Columbia, and Andrew and Neil hadn’t really spoken since then. Coach had tried to get them to make up when Neil came back to his apartment, but his attempts futile. They’d only had a short conversation before Andrew got bored and left. All Neil got from Andrew’s lot since then was hostility and cold shoulders. Now, in the middle of the night, Andrew was breaking into the room of the three people he actively seemed to hate the most. Neil pretended to sleep, until he felt weight on the rungs of the ladder on his bed, and hands on the back of his T-shirt. Andrew practically pulled him off the bed, immediately waking him up from any bit of sleep he had left in him.

“Car. Ten minutes.” Andrew didn’t lower his voice for Neil’s half-asleep roommates. “I don’t like waiting.”

“I don’t care.” Neil retorted back in a hushed voice. “Leave me alone and let me sleep.” Andrew got real close to Neil’s face. The dim light of the moon outside the window showed Andrew unsmiling face. He was presumably sober, and Andrew sober was a much scarier sight than him being medicated and violent.

“Ten minutes.” He repeated again, matching Neil’s volume, hazel eyes burning a hole through Neil’s natural blue. Andrew put a finger to his lips and switched to German. “This is the only chance you’ll get.”

Neil had almost forgotten he’d spoken to Andrew in German in Coach’s apartment. He was startled at the sudden language change, and obliged when Andrew finally left the room. He got dressed underneath his covers as best he could, and decided against putting in his contacts, before jumping down off the top bunk.

“Bring that monster around here one more time and you’re moving out.” Seth groaned, but fully meant what he said. He turned around to face the wall and through the muffle of a pillow, Neil heard him say, “Now fuck off.” Matt, sleeping like a rock, was snoring on the other side of the room, totally unphased and undisturbed by Andrew’s swift entrance and exit.

Andrew was alone at his car when Neil pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands in a desperate attempt to stay warm, the door of the dorm building shutting behind him. It was freezing outside, and Neil hadn’t realised it was literally the middle of the night until he saw a clock in the hallway reading an early 3:54am. The wind blew leaves across the parking lot with a whistle and a rustle, the dry fall leaves swirling around like tiny twisters on the tarmac. The campus was silent, on the night of a weekday, so Neil didn’t expect anyone to be out. Yet here Andrew was, leaning on the bonnet of his car with a cigarette between his lips, smoke quickly disappearing in the biting wind.

“You never answered my question on our little night out.” He spoke through the smoke, as Neil approached closer. “We’re going for a drive.”

“Do you ever sleep?” Neil’s voice was groggy from his own interrupted sleep. Andrew didn’t answer, instead flicking away his cigarette and sitting into the drivers seat. Neil walked around to the passenger side and sat in. When he tried to warm his hands on the hot air Andrew had blowing through the air-con, Andrew turned the heat off. Neil was sure if Andrew was medicated he would’ve laughed, but he instead opted for watching the road as they drove in silence. Neil sat back and tried his best not to fall asleep. His head bumped about on the headrest as they drove, and every time his eyes started to close, his sleep cycle begging him to come back to rest, Andrew would snap his fingers in his face or lay a punch down on his thigh. After a short drive, they pulled up into the empty lot of some National Park Neil didn’t know the name of. He was too tired to pay attention to the signs, but figured Andrew wouldn’t bring him to a park to kill him or let him go. Andrew was a man of truth when he wanted to be; He wanted to know why he was on the run and Neil didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Why are we here?” Neil asked at the same time Andrew said “What brought a runaway to Oakland?”They both paused for a moment, but Neil knew Andrew wasn’t going to answer his question until Neil answered his.

“It was the first place she wanted to stop.” Neil spoke through a yawn. “The others before there made her too paranoid. It was the first time she felt like she could close her eyes and actually sleep without feeling like she was…” He thought about his words for a moment. The last conversation they’d had, he told him he was on the run, but Andrew already knew that. Neil thought he’d got through to him by giving him half-honesty, telling him his parents were dead. He never brought up Riko, or his family, instead choosing the option of trying to appeal to Andrew’s inner child, who remembered Stefan. It was a stupid choice, and Neil knew that the second he chose it. “She could sleep without feeling like she had a target on her back.”

“Did you kill her?” Andrew said it so casually it felt like murder was something so normal, like eating lunch or going for a walk. Like asking if he killed his mother was just like asking if he liked the taste of garlic, or if he was having a good day.

“No,” Neil answered. He’d been thinking about what he would tell Andrew about his life since he seen him in Arizona. Who was he before Oakland? Where did they go? Who was he running from? “Riko’s family did.”

And suddenly Andrew was interested. His face was a mixture of disbelief and boredom. Neil told him his manufactured version of the story; that his parents were killed by the Moriyama family, and that they’d been on the run since the execution of his Father. He kept out the part about the Butcher of Baltimore, or the fact that he was actually still alive, but Andrew’s mind was at work as Neil told the story. If he didn’t look awake before, he did now. Neil spoke for an hour, maybe less, maybe more, flowing from story to anecdote to answering questions that Andrew slipped in whenever he wanted. Neil answered it all with mostly-truths, redacting the stuff Andrew simply didn’t need to know. Neil was a runaway, his family were in some bad business, but Neil was the only one left.

“I really didn’t think you could get any more stupid, yet I am constantly surprised.” Andrew tutted as he shook a cigarette out of the packet, into his hand. He rolled down the window on his side and smoked out of it, seemingly unbothered by the wind that just blew the smoke back into his face. “You knew who I was, but you knew Kevin too? How forgetful do you think people are?”

“I don’t know,” Neil told him honestly. “I just- We were so young. I met Kevin years before I met you. I just didn’t think I was important to anyone.” Andrew laughed a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all. It was the sound of dismissal, as though he didn’t believe a word that spilled from Neil’s tired lips. “I didn’t think I’d ever be particularly memorable or mean anything to anyone. That was the most important thing to my mom.”

“What, being unimportant?” Andrew didn’t look at Neil as he spoke.

“Being forgettable.” Neil sighed, thinking about his mother’s words that had been drilled into his head. If you’re too interesting, you’re asking to be killed. Be boring. Be normal. Be forgettable. “You fucked that up for me.”

“See, you keep blaming me,” Andrew shook his head as he took a drag from the cigarette that had been half-smoked by the wind. “I didn’t fuck up your life, Abagnale, you did.” Neil didn’t get the reference, but he didn’t ask either.

“I don’t mean it’s your fault. You didn’t do anything,” Neil tried correcting himself. “I couldn’t help it when I was around you. And all I could do every second of my days after Oakland was blame you because I couldn’t deal with the fact that I let you in. Everything I learned, everything I’d done, you came along and turned the place upside down because I just had to know you. I had to.”

“Why?” Andrew looked at him with that same uninterested look he usually had, when a medically-induced smile wasn’t spread across his cheeks. “What made me any different to the hundreds of other kids I’m sure you met on your travels, hmm?”

“You were real.” Andrew scoffed. Neil frowned at that and shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve been through this. Don’t waste my time getting to know me if you just want me to run. You want me to get lost in the park, is it? Is that why you brought me here?”

“Nothing better than some honesty with a view.” Andrew tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “How do you expect me to trust you when you’ve spent your whole life a liar? Be mad if you want, but I’m much less gullible now, you see. Once a liar, always a liar.” Neil sent Andrew a look as he hovered his hand over Andrew’s. When he just stared at it, Neil brought Andrew’s hand up to his collarbone where was a small, raised, pink scar sitting just above it.

“The motels phone.” Neil spoke quietly, as if Mary would hear, as if she was waiting to jump out from behind the car to take him and beat him again for letting his guard down, for being unforgettable. “It was the first thing she could grab when we got into our room. I never told her your name, and she beat me harder for it. I never wanted to let her anger ruin your name.” Andrew dropped his hand from Neil’s grip.

“Pretty unintelligent to take hits for someone you thought you’d never see again.”

Then Neil said, “I knew I’d never forget you.” Andrew tensed up at the almost-promise, and the memories came flooding back for Neil like a tsunami sweeping over every other thought he had. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” Neil almost reached out to touch Andrew before he remembered the boundary Andrew had set that night in Columbia. Neil didn’t have a right to touch him anymore, and he knew Andrew noticed as Neil’s hand lifted and then hesitantly fell. “Tell me something I don’t know about this Andrew. I’ve told you my life, tell me yours.” He gestured to Andrew, sat across from him with an almost-frown on his face and a thinking mind hard at work.

“This Andrew doesn’t give a shit about what answers you think you deserve.” He looked Neil up and down. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Why doesn’t Nicky know you’re gay?” Neil asked, instead of waiting for him to come up with something himself, it was much easier to get honesty from Andrew by prompting him. Neil watched as his jaw tensed for a second, thinking about the answer.

“Nicky is too involved in being the gay cousin to un-assume.” Andrew barely lifted his shoulders in the form of a shrug. “He hasn’t asked.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“I don’t ‘come out’,” He brushed off the thought with the flick of his wrist and a roll of his eyes. “I don’t fuck women in my spare time. Who cares?”

“Yeah, sure, but-” Neil had started to speak when Andrew cut across.

“At least I’m out to myself,” He nodded towards him. “You, on the other hand? Was it just Stefan who was into it or is the unnamed you just in denial?”

“I’m not, like…” Neil hated the sexuality question. It was confusing and messy and Andrew and Andrew and Andrew. “There was no one after you. It’s only been you.”

“By choice or by mothers hands?”

“Neither. Both?” He wasn’t sure how to answer. “The foxes are the first people I’ve let get somewhat close since then. That’s the truth. I haven’t wanted to. I’m just not interested in anyone.” The except for you part was silent, but he knew Andrew had somewhat heard it when he sat back, one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm resting on the door, as he took a deep breath that he tried to hide. Neil wasn’t even sure he was still into Andrew like that, because they were so young, after all. Andrew was still experimenting, and they never spoke about those kinds of feelings. They were friends who kissed each other because they wanted to know what it felt like. They kissed each other because maybe they thought they liked it. Maybe they’d have to do it again just to be sure. But that was so long ago, and so much had changed. Neil had had a crush on that Andrew, but this one? He wasn’t so sure. This one was harsh and mean, angry and unmoving. This one had been hard-boiled by life and wasn’t going to crack any time soon. He didn’t know if he felt things anymore. He didn’t know if Andrew was capable of a crush, or a kiss, or a simple, electric touch of fingers to skin.

Without a word, Andrew had switched on the ignition and idled the engine for a moment before pulling out and starting on the drive back to campus. Neil didn’t say anything else, he only rested his head on the window and watched as the morning sun slowly lit up the night sky, the dark navy blue taking over the black sky so slowly it was hardly noticeable.

He had pulled into his usual parking spot not long later, still not looking at Neil or speaking at all. He stayed still in the drivers seat after switching the engine off. Neil took that as his cue to leave. Matching Andrew’s silent treatment, he got up and shut the door without a word. Andrew had rolled down his window again, another cigarette already stuck between his lips. He watched as Neil walked around the car before he tapped the outside of his door twice to catch his attention. Neil spoke before he could.

“Give me a chance.” The wind blew his hair off his face, reminding him how cold it was, and why he should’ve worn a jacket. “Let me stay. I don’t have anything else.”

“Don’t be fooled into thinking I trust you.” He hung his hand out the window finally looking Neil in the eyes again. “It’s a matter of time before your egg timer runs out. Make use of it while you can.”

“I’ll bury Stefan forever, if you ask.” Neil offered in payment for the sudden change of heart in letting him stay, in cleaning his hands of the idea that Neil was after Kevin, or that he was a threat. “Say the word and we start fresh from today.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew took a long drag, one that felt like it was centuries long, like the sun would be up by the time he finished. He blew it out and raised his hands. “Kill what wasn’t real. Prove to me what was.”

Neil wasn’t sure what that invitation meant, but he didn’t ask Andrew to keep speaking. When they broke eye contact, he knew then Andrew wanted him to leave. Neil didn’t look back, heart racing, practically ready to burst out of his chest by the time he reached his dorm room. He opened the door as quietly as he could, careful not to disturb his peacefully sleeping roommates, and he crawled back into bed to try get some sleep before the practice scheduled for the morning. Instead of counting sheep, battling restlessness like a fight for his life, he thought of Stefan. He thought of the heart of Nathaniel that had gotten wrapped up in his blond hair and tiny frame. Neil fell asleep thinking about who he used to be, and what parts of that were real. What parts could he keep? His mind spent its last morsels of energy on dissecting Neil Josten, to make him feel a little more real.

The next time they saw each other outside of practice was when Kevin started coming to find him late at night to go to the court and practice together. Neil realised quickly he was going to become a night owl as a Fox, but it still took him a while to adjust to the late nights and early starts. But him and Andrew kept their distance; they didn’t speak if they didn’t have to, and their conversations were kept to a line or two each. They played their first match of the season, and Andrew had sent out shots for Neil like they were capable of working together. Then there was Kathy Ferdinand’s show, at which Andrew had hands all over him, holding him back from killing Riko on live TV. He had made a deal to protect Kevin, and then he was being psychically held back from doing so. Neil did what he couldn’t, and stood up to Riko, a conscious effort to gain his trust, to prove he was on the side of the foxes. Then there was that touch, that simple, light, barely-there touch, and Neil knew he’d won. He’d earned Andrew’s trust, at least for a moment, but that was all that mattered.

When Andrew ever-so-kindly reminded Neil later that Riko would find out about him, the original “Neil”, as easily as he’d strolled onto that stage to sit across from Kevin, there was no choice but to run. He couldn’t imagine any other option. His entire body went into fight or flight, and he struggled to sit still as Andrew held his collar and told him to stay.

“Why?” Neil asked, throat dry, hands shaking, after Andrew offered him protection for the year if he promised to stay. It was funny to imagine, as if there was anything he could do against the actual, guns-blazing, internationally dominating mafia. “Why would you help me?” Andrew laughed, and just about caressed Neil’s jaw in the most non-affectionate way possible. Neil felt his touch leave blood on his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Andrew was manic, and didn’t care. He looked as if he didn’t even feel the pain of a glass-shattering punch, and was actively enjoying the chaos that the morning had brought with it.

Andrew didn’t give him any sort of an answer until later that night, when he stepped into Neil’s space and told him to remember the feeling; Neil couldn’t run anymore. He had given his word to Andrew that he would stay, and as much as he had started to hate the Present-Day-Andrew-Minyard, he trusted him as a man of his word. Neil had killed the parts of Stefan that were untrue; all that was left was the real emotion he felt when he looked at Andrew. He was an asshole, but he was Andrew, and Neil trusted this five foot blond boy with his life. Perhaps it was crazy, perhaps he was officially, undeniable, finally signing his name on his death wish, ticking down the hours until his past caught up. Whereas running was his old line of defence, his current one was Andrew. Andrew was an unlit fire suddenly gaining embers, and Neil knew it was dangerous to let that fire grow. Especially when Andrew leaned over in Eden’s, crackers on his tongue, a drink in his hands, and whispered in German;

“Mommy’s not here to hurt you anymore.” Neil snapped his gaze towards Andrew, who was coming up on his high, speaking to Neil but watching the crowd on the dancefloor. His breath at Neil’s ear sent shivers up his spine, goosebumps on his arms. “My hands are open to have your back. Give it to me this time.”

[livexdolan]

40 & 70 with gray? :)

40. "Thought I told you to stay by my side, eh?"  & 70. “You know what? Never-mind, you’ll know I’m lying to you anyway.” 

Masterlist

Whenever people found out who your best friend was- you knew they were trying to keep from laughing in your face. If he weren’t standing right next to you when you told people, sometimes they would think you were lying.

You’ve been friends with Grayson Dolan for more than a decade, knowing each other since elementary school. By high school, you drifted apart socially but you still hung out at each other’s houses, played video games, helped him with projects, even decided to go to the same college.

You handled Grayson’s popularity in high school well and he handled your lack of popularity well. All you prayed was college would be different.

It wasn’t.

Grayson decided to join Theta Xi, known to be the biggest pothead frat but also the best partiers. You told Grayson that maybe your friendship wasn’t going to work out, this was the sign. Grayson argued with you and spent weeks proving the frat would never change him.

Three years and a presidency later, he had changed. Yet for some reason, she stayed.

Well, she knew the reason, she’s been in love with him since the first time they kissed. It was on a rock in the forest behind his house, they were 16 and 17 and he had just learned no one had ever kissed her before.

After that, she knew she had to stay in his life even though she wasn’t his type at all and he had never given her any reason to believe he was interested in her as more than a friend.

Now, she’s cursing at the way she always get blindsided when it comes to Grayson. He talks her into the stupidest shit because he asks her in ways that she doesn’t realize what she’s getting into but by the time she finally realizes, it’s too late to back out.

Like right now, leaning against the counter in one of the kitchens. The frat house was split into four quads downstairs and two quads upstairs. Each quad has two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small living space, which all lead out into the main, large room of the house where the main part of the party is happening.

She could still hear the music thumping beneath her feet, she was upstairs in the ‘off-limits’ quad. It was Grayson, Ethan, Ryan, and Mando’s rooms up here.

Grayson’s the president, E’s vp, Ryan’s in charge of everything grayson doesn’t want to deal with but his official title is treasurer, and Mando’s in charge of all things social media for the frat.

I’m in Ethan and Grayson’s kitchen, the cleanliness not surprising seeing as Ethans girlfriend pretty much lives with them at this point. I always try to clean up Grayson’s room and bathroom when I’m over, the OCD type A freak in me hates seeing his books everywhere, trash cans full of bottles, laundry piled in the corner.

It’s not like that most of the time though, that only happens on his bad weeks. Those are the weeks when he falls into this funk and only talks to me and Ethan. We all give him space because we know why it’s happening, they started right after their dad died.

Mr. Dolan dying was so hard on everyone. My family included. My dad wasn’t a very stand-up guy, and Mr. Dolan always made me feel welcome and was the kind of dad I always imagined my dad to be.

“Thought I told you to stay by my side, eh?" I jump at the deep voice, turning to see Grayson standing in the doorway, looking like an angel committing a sin by looking so hot.

He has on a pair of slacks and a loose, silk shirt, the pattern almost matching Ethans. The theme for the night was Coachella. Even if we were many states away and most of the people here couldn’t afford to even look at Coachella tickets.

I let him talk me into coming, wearing a knit triangle bralette top and off-white shorts Grayson picked out, I just realized my shorts match his pants perfectly.

I quirk my eyebrow at him and cross my arms, “I’m sorry, did I leave you to play beer pong?”

He smiles at me and I want to slap it off his face- or kiss it off- either is fine with me, “I’m sorry, angel. Just come back down and enjoy the rest of the party with me, I won’t ditch you again, I promise.”

Grayson’s always done his hardest to keep ever promise he’s told me, so I push off the counter, my entire hard-ass demeanor falling away and my normal, shy and reserved self takes it’s place. He grabs my hand and I try to ignore the pleasure I get from feeling his warmth on mine.

He pulls me towards the stairs and then we walk down together, me slightly behind him. He abruptly stops and I bump into him, cursing at him but he squeezes my hand, silently telling me to shut up.

I look over in time to see Dylan here, with McKenna. Dylan was my first boyfriend, though we’re only kissed and cuddled, I thought we were serious. Until I found out he had been sleeping with my dorm mate the entire time. That was freshman year, I should be over it. I am over it, but the look Grayson gives me tells me I don’t look as though I’m over it.

“C’mon.” Grayson pushes us through the crowd, keeping us out of the line of sight of my ex.

We duck into one of the quads and I realize too late- it’s the pot quad. The rooms filled with a thick haze, the slight soundproofing making the vibes much more calm and relaxing. There’s only a dozen or so people but I feel much better in here than out there. Even if I don’t smoke.

Someone passes Grayson a blunt and he takes a quick hit, “I feel like I should stay sober to make sure that asshole doesn’t even look at you,” I smile at Grayson’s protectiveness.

“I’m fine. It was a while ago, Gray. I’m over it,” I shrug. Maybe it would’ve hurt more if my heart didn’t belong to someone else.

I make a quick decision and go to take the blunt. Grayson pulls back, the weed out in the air where I can’t reach it, “What do you think you’re doing?”

He raises his brow and I scoff, rolling my eyes, “Give it to me, Grayson. I just want one hit.” He pulls back again when I try to reach out.

He just shakes his head and it feels like his patronizing a child, “this shits strong, angel. You can’t handle it.”

Something about the way he said it sends me back to a memory I forgot ever happened. After Dylan took me out for our five month, we went back to his place and we started making out. I tried to reach for his belt but he pulled away, telling me I wasn’t ready. Couldn’t handle it. That I was too immature and if I wanted it to be great, I should lose a little weight, because skinny girls have the best sex.

I snatch the blunt from Grayson, taking a hit before he can stop me. Fuck men. Fuck all men who think they know what I can and can’t handle. I think I inhaled to much because when I exhale I feel a heavy burn and a dry cough comes up my throat.

Grayson pats my back, “Angel-“

“Don’t.” I push his hand off me. Taking a deep breath, I see Grayson watching me closely. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it. What is wrong with you tonight?” He asks me and I roll my eyes.

“You know what?” He looks at me expectantly and I sigh, “Never-mind, you’ll know I’m lying to you anyway.”

He grabs my hand and takes me out of the small room, moving us through the crowd to the back porch- a large, glassed in room. There’s only a few people out here.

He grabs my arms, “what’s wrong, y/n? Is it Dylan? I’ll kick him out if you want. ”

I look up into his eyes, the sincerity there surprising me. Grayson’s always been so honest with me. It’s time I’m honest with him. I don’t know if weed works this fast or if it’s the beer I downed earlier but I decide to be honest with him, “No, it’s not Dylan. I wasn’t even that hurt when we broke up. That’s because- I uh- I like you, Gray. I’ve had a crush on you since eleventh grade. I want to be with you. I mean- with you with you. I want to wake up next to you and hold hands and kiss and hug and- I want you to love me as much as I love you.” I rant.

His hands fall off my arms and my eyes well up, knowing the thing I’ve always feared is about to happen. He’s rejecting me. “Y/n I- I care about you. So much. But I- this isn’t a good idea.”

His words break my heart and I keep my gaze on the ground, “Um- okay. Well, I’m gonna- I have to go.” I say, looking up at him and biting my lip to hold back tears.

I turn on my heel and practically run back into the main room, trying to get out of this house as quickly as possible, “Y/n! Come back! Wait!” I hear Grayson’s voice and the tears start to fall, I push through the crowd faster, when someone grabs my arm, stopping me.

“Y/n?” I look up at Dylan, standing with McKenna. His eyebrows furrow when he sees me crying.

“Let me go,” I state, trying to get my arm out of his tight grip.

“What’s wrong? Who-“ he stops when he sees someone behind me, “Of course it was you. You’re such an asshole. What did you do to her?” He demands and I finally get my arm away from him.

Turning to see Grayson with rage in his eyes. He never got over Dylan cheating on me, “I didn’t do anything to her. You’re the piece of shit who cheated on y/n. How dare you come into my house and accuse me of hurting my best friend?” Grayson spits and I grab his arm out of instinct as he lurches forward.

“Gray, stop.” I say, he looks away from Dylan’s smirk to make eye contact with me for only a second before shrugging my hand off him.

“Yeah, Gray. Listen to your girlfriend. Don’t wanna embarrass you in your house, right?” Dylan mocks and I roll my eyes, knowing he’s just trying to rile Grayson up.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” the words are out of his mouth so quick, I don’t even realize what he said at first. I scoff and roll my eyes.

Because this is the time to correct him. You know what, “Fuck you.” I spit at Grayson and push my way out of the small circle forming around us. I make it to the front door when I hear a loud crack, looking back to see Dylan on the ground holding his nose and Grayson looking for me in the crowd.

We make eye contact and I shake my head, knowing this is the end of us. I open the door and slip out, running down the road, passing all the other fraternity houses. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears but I keep pushing myself until I get to my apartment, knowing it’s only a mile or so.

Once I get inside I slide down the door, leaning against it as I realize that happy ever afters are fake. The person you love isn’t always going to love you back. Fuck fairytales.

It’s not like I can hate Grayson- he didn’t know. I can hate him for not chasing me. He probably realized I’m not worth it. Best friends don’t run after each other, right? If he loved me, he wouldn’t have let Dylan get to him. He would’ve grabbed me and made me stay.

Tears fall down my face unrestrained as my heart clenches at the thought of never being friends with Grayson again. We’ve gone through death, high school, years of people trying to pull us apart, and I was able to ruin our friendship with three words.

If it was meant to be, he would’ve fought for me. Figuratively, not physically, seeing as he already punched someone tonight. I drag myself to my room and fell into the blankets, closing my eyes. I pray I will forget this night ever happened.

Next Part...

A/n: For all my people who didn’t get their fairy tale ending ❤️

[farfromtommy]

seb being a stepdad to chris' kids or vice versa!

not my gif

a/n: okay this is literally one of the best ideas ever and im so in love with this fic. i think this takes the cake for my favorite fic i’ve written!! this is mildly edited so pls be kind. im so proud of it and hope you guys love it <3

please reblog if you enjoyed reading and and feel free to leave any comments!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of sex, brief mention of medical procedure(s), there might be some language i dont remember

word count: 4,400

masterlist

social media au masterlist

taglist 

~~~

Chris has been your best friend since elementary school and all through middle and high school. Everyone knew how close you were to him and how deeply you loved each other. It was never in a romantic sort of way, though. Nobody really understood the relationship you had with him, they just shrugged their shoulders and minded their business.

When Chris told you he wanted to move to New York to follow his dream of being an actor, he asked you to go with him. You shared his love for theatre and the arts and always wanted to see if you could make it as a big-time Hollywood actress. You packed all your things into your tiny car and made your way to New York with your best friend.

You spent your 28th birthday sitting on Chris’s couch with a bottle of tequila and a broken heart. Your boyfriend of 3 years broke up with you on the grounds of you being “such a drag” and “not someone he wants to settle down with any more”. You had planned a life with him. He talked about marrying you and having kids with you just weeks prior. And he had just thrown it all away.

Having gone through almost half of the bottle of tequila already, Chris took the bottle from you and just looked at you with sad eyes. He ran his hand through your hair as you buried your face in your pillow and just cried. You pulled yourself together after a while and willed yourself to sit up and look Chris in the eyes.

“I know I’m kinda drunk right now but Chris, listen to me. Can we make a pact? When we’re both 30 and if we’re both still single and loveless. Let’s have a baby. We don’t have to like… y’know… do it or anything. We can do it through insemination or in a petri dish or however they do it. I’m just- I want to settle down and have kids but I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone else.” You rambled, gesturing wildly with your hands. Chris suppressed a laugh and looked at you like you were crazy. You just looked at him questioningly until he realized this was not the alcohol talking.

“Are you serious? Like, me and you? Having a baby? Seriously?” He pulled himself off the floor and sat on the coffee table in front of you.

“I’m so serious. You can say no, Chris. This is me asking you what you think. I always said that if I don’t have a husband or have been with someone long enough to have a child with them, that I would go to a sperm bank and do it like that. You know how badly I want kids, and I know you want them too.” You moved to the edge of the couch to move closer to him. He stood up and grabbed your hand to help you up. He dragged you towards the kitchen and sat you down at the table, telling you to wait there while he grabbed something. He came back a few moments later with a notebook and a pen.

“Alright, let’s figure this out. We’re going to ask each other questions about this and write down the answers. Any conditions we have we’ll write down, if we can’t agree on them we don’t do it. I know you’re not super sober right now so we can do this now and talk about it again tomorrow.” He wrote ‘Y/L/N - Evans Baby’ along the top. You smiled a bit to yourself and waited for him to talk.  

“I don’t want to be just the sperm donor, I want to be involved in everything. From the ultrasound appointments to picking preschools. I also want to be in the room when you’re in labor.” He wrote it down as he was talking and looked up at you. You nodded with a big smile on your face.

“I would want you as involved as possible. We would be co-parenting this hypothetical child. My turn. To keep this from getting messy, we should do it through a clinic. Me in stirrups and your swimmers in a turkey baster. Sex can make things complicated and weird, I don’t want to risk something going wrong between us and then there be a child involved. Insemination isn’t as effective but we can always keep trying if it doesn’t work.” You pulled the notebook towards you and wrote down your condition.

That went on for the rest of the night. You and Chris take turns asking questions about your hypothetical baby. You had filled up pages and pages of notes about what you both want, from how you would decide to tell your families to living arrangements to if you’d circumcise or not if it was a boy.

A little more than 2 years later you and Chris found yourselves at the dining room table of his Boston home again. The notebook you had filled just a few years back right in front of you, along with 5 pregnancy tests. They were face down on the table as you anxiously waited for the timer to go off.

“Alright, Chris. This is it. It’s been 5 minutes, we can flip them over.” You released a shaky breath and stared at the tests right in front of you. Chris grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together. You looked at each other before reaching out to flip over the individual tests. Seeing all 5 of the tests with 2 solid pink lines knocked all the air out of your lungs.

“Oh my god. They’re all positive! Oh my god, Chris!! We’re going to have a baby!” You both jumped out of your seats and jumped around the kitchen before hugging each other and crying. He kept thanking you and kissing the top of your head while you sobbed into his chest, soaking his shirt. There were lots of tears over the next few weeks from you both after confirming your pregnancy with your midwife.

8 or so months later Penelope Elizabeth Evans-Y/L/N made her way into the world and the arms of her parents. The world seemed to stop when you heard the cries of your daughter for the first time. You could’ve sworn Chris stopped breathing the second he laid eyes on her when she was placed on your bare chest. He didn’t even care that she was covered in blood and other bodily fluids, he swore that she was the most beautiful human being to ever exist.

He took a lot of time off from filming and working to take care of you both. Once you found out you were pregnant, you stopped acting for the most part. You knew that you wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, at least until she was old enough to go to school, and maybe then you’d go back to smaller roles that kept you close to home.

Chris had a hard time leaving you and Penny once it was time to go back to work. He held her close to his chest and cried at the thought of leaving her when she’s still so little. Seeing the extreme separation anxiety he was already having, you offered to go with him to set and find an apartment or house to rent for the duration of the shoot. This ended up being the greatest thing you could have come up with. Every single project that took him away from Boston, you and Penny were right there next to him. You and Penny followed him to what seemed like every corner of the Earth.

The weeks leading up to shooting The Winter Soldier were the most exciting for Chris. He had been training for months to get into shape and was really excited to have you and Penny on set with him. He had also been talking nonstop about working with Sebastian and Anthony again.

One night Chris came home with Sebastian and Anthony trailing behind him. Penny had gone down for the night and you were nursing a glass of wine on the recliner, watching whatever you could find on TV.

“Hey, Y/N. I should've called ahead, I’m sorry. We’re just going to have some beers while we watch the game.” He walked in and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. You moved the blankets off your lap and stood up to greet Anthony and Sebastian.

“I don’t think you ever got a chance to meet these guys before. Y/N this is Anthony and Sebastian, guys this is Y/N.” Chris introduced you and you moved forward to give them both hugs.

“Sorry for barging in on you unannounced, we would’ve made sure this idiot called you before to make sure it was all good,” Anthony said, taking the beer Chris handed him.

“Oh please, don’t worry about it. He used to do it all the time when we lived in New York. Sorry, the place is a bit of a mess. Didn’t get a chance to clean today, I’ve had my hands full, especially with this one” You gestured a thumb to Chris and he sent you a playful glare in return.

You offered to put together some snacks for the game, knowing very well Chris couldn’t handle his alcohol without some sort of food in his system. Anthony and Sebastian offered to help while Chris snuck off to go see Penny.

“How long have you and Chris been together?” Sebastian made some small talk while looking for serving bowls in your kitchen. Anthony leaned against the counter and continued to sip on his beer.

“Oh, we’re not together. We’ve been friends since we were kids and we actually are just uh...” You chuckled nervously, not knowing what to say to his friends. Chris walked into the kitchen with Penny in his arms at that moment. Her head tucked into his neck, hands gripping at the fabric of his shirt and his arms under her butt.

“We’re raising our daughter together. They go with me wherever I go so I don’t miss anything and so Y/N doesn’t raise Penelope by herself. We’re co-parenting in the same house.” He said, looking at the tired toddler in his arms. Sebastian and Anthony both sputtered on their beers at the same time, not believing what they were seeing.

There was no denying that she was a product of you and Chris. Even with her sleepy eyes, they could see the bright blue color that matched the man carrying her. They saw the swoop of your nose and the color of your hair. They stood there just taking it all in.

“I had a bit of a crisis when I turned 28 after my long term boyfriend dumped me out of nowhere. It was one of those ‘if we’re 30 and aren’t married’ sort of things. We turned 30 and were both still single, so we had a baby.” You shrugged, looking over at your girl.

“And it works, being parents without being together but still living together?” Anthony asked, gesturing towards the two of you.

“We had everything figured out before she got pregnant. We had conditions that we both had to agree on before we even got serious about it. We were both very adamant about not doing it the old fashioned way so things didn’t get messy. It took some time to figure out the… terms and conditions I guess.” Chris laughed a little bit. Anthony and Seb nodded in understanding and kept looking at Penny.

“I’m happy for you, man. Seems like you both are really happy. How old is she?” Anthony walked into her line of sight and waved his fingers a bit, trying to get her attention.

“She turned one a couple of months ago.” You said and watched Penny pick her head up and look at Seb and Anthony, inspecting them a bit. Her big blue eyes landed on Sebastian and she stared him down before he gave her a small smile and waved at her. She was a little shy around new people and would usually bury her face in the neck of whoever was holding her.

To your surprise, she leaned away from Chris and moved her hands out to Sebastian. Everyone’s eyes widened as she whined a little bit when he didn’t reach out to grab her. Chris moved closer and told him it was okay and let Penny make herself comfortable in his arms. She buried herself into his neck much like she does with you and Chris, her tiny fists clutching his shirt. Her eyes shut immediately and let herself fall asleep in his arms.

The next few months went on more pleasantly than expected. Chris often had late-night shoots and training, leaving you with Penny most of the day. Anytime he knew he would be home late, he’d send Seb over with dinner or just an extra set of hands to help you with Penny. She knew you were her mama and Chris was her dada, then one day she had her Seba. Anytime you opened the door to let him in with her on your hip, she immediately squealed and started to chant ‘Seba! Seba!’ and didn’t stop until he was holding her.

Sebastian had brought up the idea of taking you to dinner one night to Chris. Even though you were a single adult who could make decisions on your own, he didn’t want to disrespect Chris at all. Chris never saw you as anything more than his best friend, it had always been like that. He was ecstatic when Sebastian brought up the idea of asking you out.

“I’m so serious, Seb. I think it’s a great idea. She talks about you a lot and really loves being around you. She’s going to say yes, I promise. Y/N hasn’t dated since we had Penny, mostly because she’s scared of what someone would think about her living with her childhood best friend who happens to be the father of her child.” Chris told him honestly. You weren’t interested in dating at all since having Penny. Mostly because being a mom was your first and only priority.

Sebastian let out the breath he was holding and ran his fingers through his hair, all of a sudden nervous about asking you to dinner. Chris clapped a hand around his shoulder and gave him a quick pep talk before sending him on his way.

The 2 years between wrapping Winter Soldier and starting Civil War had been interesting, to say the least. Everything Chris did kept him in the states for the most part. You and Penny were still trailing along with him, always loving the things you got to experience as a family.

Sebastian had found his place right in your crazy life. You had been unofficially together after wrapping Winter Soldier. He went off to do his next project and you and Chris spent some time in Boston with your families. You texted him most of the day, and he called at night to talk for a few hours before you went to sleep. He always said goodnight to Penny and she blew her Seba kisses through the phone.

He flew to Boston a bunch of times to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. You flew to wherever he was for a few days at a time, most of the time with Penny. Chris somehow managed to get you on the plane by yourself a few times and promised he would FaceTime every single night and would have hourly pictures sent.

On one of your first weekend trips out to see him, he refused to let you leave without making it official with you. He had you in tears at the end of his ‘I can’t spend another second without calling you my girlfriend’ speech. When he proposed to you he had said that the only thing better than the girlfriend speech was the one he was about to give. His ‘I can’t spend another second without calling you my wife’ speech knocked that one out of the water.

Neither of you wanted to make a big fuss about a wedding. You weren’t interested in the big white dress and the stressful bridesmaids and the whole cliche wedding things. Sebastian suggested getting eloped somewhere quiet with a handful of the most important people in your life. Chris’s mom, Lisa, had offered to hold the ceremony in her backyard. Knowing very well how spacious and beautiful it was, you and Seb graciously accepted her offer.

You kept your dress simple yet elegant, a beautiful white lace dress that ended mid-thigh, and complimented your body so perfectly. Seb kept it classy with a dark blue suit and light blue button-up that brought out his eyes, no tie, because who needs one?

Right at the end of the ceremony right as the officiant was about to have you say ‘i do’, you heard whines coming from Penny, who was sitting right up front on her daddy’s lap. You looked over to see her squirming in his lap and whining out ‘mama’ and reaching out for you. Chris made eye contact with you and mouthed ‘i’m sorry’. You shook your head and let go of one of Sebastian’s hands to motion to let her go so she could walk over to you.

Everyone aww’d as she walked over to you as quickly as her legs could take her. You bent down and scooped her up, resting her on your hip and wrapping your arm around her waist to keep her up. Sebastian made faces at her to make her laugh and keep her happy for a few more minutes. Your photographer had taken advantage of the incredibly sweet moment and had made sure to get as many shots of Penny at the altar with you.

When the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, you were going to set Penny down but Sebastian was quick to pull you both close to him and go in for your first kiss as a married couple with your daughter right there. Everyone cheered and Penny was mimicking the claps of everyone around her. Before he pulled away from you two he pressed two sloppy kisses on Penny’s cheeks as she giggled, which pulled some tears out of you.

No more than 15 people were attending the ceremony. You wanted to keep it quiet with just family and a few close friends. The reception, however, was anyone and everyone you could fit into the ballroom you had rented at one of the best hotels in Boston. All your guests had filled the room before you and Seb arrived. You nervously held his hand as you heard the cheers from everyone inside after hearing the DJ announce “Ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary friends … let’s give it up for the couple of the hour, Mr. and Mrs. Sebastian Stan!!”

No one understood how you, Chris, and Seb managed to make your situation seem so easy and flawless. He knew that living in Boston was a must, so he bought the house that sits right behind the one you shared with Chris for so many years. He never wanted to get in the way of the system you and Chris had created over the years. Somehow, he managed to make things easier for everyone.

Penny’s first day of school was emotional for all 3 of you. You were all at your front door taking pictures of Penny in her school uniform that she looks so ridiculously cute in and the backpack that was way too big for her. She insisted on getting the Avengers backpack that “has my daddy on it!”

“Okay my love, it’s time for us to go to school! Are you ready?” Chris grabbed her tiny hand and led her to the car.

“Yeah daddy, I’m ready!” Penny said as he lifted her into the car and her car seat.

“Daddy? Mama and Sebbie coming too?” She asked him when he clicked the last buckle together. Right on cue Sebastian opened up the door to the free seat in the back and climbed in right next to her. She squealed in excitement at the sight of Sebastian buckling himself in the car.

Chris laughed at her genuine excitement and made sure all her fingers and toes were inside the car before shutting the door. He saw you lock the front door and make your way to the front seat. He noticed you put a few packs of tissues in your bag before setting it on the ground and buckling your seatbelt.

“Planning on crying today, Y/N?” Chris asked in a teasing tone. You swatted his arm lightly and scoffed at his question.

“Our baby is going to her first day of school, of course, I’m going to cry! I cried last night after I tucked her in, I cried in the shower this morning, I cried doing her hair.” You heard Seb talking enthusiastically to Penny, telling her about all the fun things she’ll get to do in kindergarten.

“It’s okay, I cried in the bathroom while she ate her waffles this morning.” You snorted at Chris’s confession and looked back at your baby girl, who was not a baby anymore. She was waving her hands around telling Seb about how excited she was to see her teacher again.

Chris and Sebastian watched from the car as you walked through the front doors of the school with Penny’s hand in yours. They had agreed that it might not have been a good idea to go in with her since they might get recognized and to avoid causing a ruckus. They both waved at her as she turned around and waved one more time before the door shut.

“Did you and Y/N ever think about having more kids together? If I hadn’t started dating her, do you think you would've had more?” Sebastian asked Chris.

“We never explicitly talked about it. She brought up wanting Penny to have lots of siblings not long after you started seeing each other. She felt guilty and thought that I was going to be upset about you and her maybe having kids one day, which meant I probably wouldn’t have anymore. I told her that this was honestly the best thing that could’ve happened because I don’t think I want any more of my own. Penny is all I ever wished and hoped for, and I got it. But since you’re together, she’ll get all the siblings she could ever want, and I won’t have to change a single diaper.” Chris nudged Seb’s shoulder with his. “You guys thinking about having one?”

“Yeah... Yeah, we are.” Sebastian lowered his head and smiled a bit. “With Penny in school and everything, it makes sense. She’s ready, I’m ready.” Seb sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He looked up and saw you walking back towards them with a tissue in your hand.

“I had the morning crying shift, it’s your turn.” Seb looked at Chris.

Just as Penny wrapped up her very first year in school, you and Sebastian welcomed Beverly Olivia Stan-Y/L/N into your family. Penelope had been so excited to hear that her mama finally had the baby she had been waiting so long for. You had gone into labor in the late afternoon and Beverly made her debut in the middle of the night.

Sebastian had called Chris an hour or so after to let him know that both you and the baby were doing phenomenally and that you were asking for Penny and wanted to see her as soon as you could. Chris chuckled at the demands you were making, knowing very well how the epidural and pain meds messed with you.

Early the next morning Penny had crawled into bed with Chris, crying for you and wanting to know when she was going to see you. It was still too early for them to go to the hospital, so he called Seb in hopes that he was already going to be awake.

A very exhausted Sebastian lit up the screen and Chris heard the soft cries of the new baby in the background. Penny’s cries turned into hiccups as soon as she saw Seb’s face because she knew she would be able to see her mama, too.

“Sebbie can I see mama, please?” Penny’s little voice spoke up. Sebastian immediately handed the phone to you and whispered that Penny was on the phone.

“Hi, baby.” You spoke softly to not disturb the baby.

“Mama when you come home? I miss you.” Penny wiped her eyes with her fists to get rid of the tears stuck in her eyelashes.

“It’s going to be a few days until I get to go home, baby. But you and daddy will be able to come to see me, Sebbie, and the new baby in a few hours. You need to go back to sleep and be a good girl for your daddy. I’m sure he’ll let you have some cuddles in his bed with him and Dodger until it’s time to wake up again.” Penny hiccuped and looked at Chris with eyes that mirrored his. He nodded his head and she buried herself closer to him.

“Okay, I go back to sleep with daddy and Dodger. I love you, mama. I love Sebbie, too.” She yawned out, her eyes blinking with sleep.

“Me and Sebbie love you so much, Penny. We’ll see you so soon, I promise” You blew a kiss to her through the screen and waited for her to throw one back. She giggled when you caught it through the camera and put it over your heart.

You, Sebastian, and Chris all watched with tears in your eyes as Penny held her baby sister for the first time. Penny had jumped right up in the bed next to you the second she walked into the room and told you about all the fun she had with Chris. Seeing your girls together melted your heart into a puddle. Chris couldn’t believe his little girl was so grown up and was a big sister. Seb thought about the night he first met you and Penny and would’ve never imagined that he’d be right here at this very moment.

Everything was so perfect and you never wanted to imagine your life being any different.

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

An old friend - Part 1

Summary: You're back in London after years living in the countryside and tonight you're attending the Cowper's ball. Who knows who'll you meet there?

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Other characters: Violet Bridgerton, Sir Hugh Feversham (OMC)

Words: 2k+

Warnings: very slight mentions of attempt at harassment, a bit of Regency-era yearning

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Not my gif, credit to the rightful owner

Whoever entered the Cowper’s estate to attend that evening’s ball would’ve been blinded by the richness of the decorations: the cristalized tears of the chandeliers glimmered in the dancing lights of the candles and at every corner colourful flowers spread their sweet and enchanting scent all around the huge ballroom.

Every person in it could just stare in silent awe of the magnificent view, taking in even the smallest detail as the music caressed their ears, a silk touch to the soul... but to you, that wonder was your last interest.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

You, right now, had the hardest task to accomplish: lose in the huge crowd a terribly improper suitor, Sir Hugh Feversham, who followed you in the gardens and tried to forcefully kiss you. Luckily the slap he received had shocked him enough to give you a ten seconds headstart before he stubbornly followed.

“Miss Y/L/N, please.” His voice was closer than before, so you tried to quicken your pace without looking like running away from anyone. ”If I could just explain myself to you...”

Part of you just wanted to turn and face him - or to be more accurate, slap him, again - and thus expose his terrible behaviour to every soul in the room. However another part of you, the thoughtful and rational one, knew that the situation in which you were tangled was very inconvenient, with or without your willingness to be part of it.

Keeping this in mind, avoiding him for the rest of the night was the best choice you had, if not the only one. Nevertheless, you couldn’t spend every second left at the ball running in circles trying to outrun him... you needed somewhere to hide.

Since the gardens were off-limits, you scanned the room, looking for a dark corner in which you could disappear or, even better, a friendly face who could save you. But having just moved back in London after years living in the countryside, you wouldn’t recognize an old friend even if you bumped into them.

As you kept walking, a kind voice reached your ears: “You must dance at least with one girl, Anthony. You can’t stand here on the side while many young ladies wait hopelessly to be asked a dance”

That name stopped you in your track, opening memories you thought you forgot. It couldn't be...

Slowly turning to the woman and the young man she was talking to, you scanned them closely, searching in their faces those features you kept for so long in your mind.

“Lady Bridgerton?”

The woman turned towards you with a gentle smile on her face, even though her eyes scanned you with a puzzled look. "Shall I know you, dear?"

"I believe not". You curtseyed, somehow remembering the manners you've been learning since you were born. "It has been a while since we last saw each other"

"Then would you please us with your name, miss?"

You moved your eyes on the young man, Anthony Bridgerton, his furrowed glare locked on you. He probably thought you were some crazy lady or whatever... he surely didn't remember.

"Of course, my lord. I'm-"

"Miss Y/L/N" Lady Bridgerton's eyes finally widened in recognition. She left her son's arm and took your hand in hers. "It has been quite some time. You left that you were just a child but now..." - she took another look at you, from head to toe - "you've bloomed into a beautiful woman"

You gently squeezed her hand. "It's a true joy seeing a friendly face in this buzzing crowd. You wouldn't believe what happened to me just-"

"Miss Y/L/N"

You tightened the grip on Lady Bridgerton's hand when Sir Hugh appeared by your side.

"I've finally caught up with you" he smiled, slick as he was in the garden. "I believe we could talk better on the dancefloor"

He stretched out his hand but you didn't want to take it; every inch of your body screamed to stay away from him. However you had no excuse to refuse him a dance without exposing yourself in the meantime.

You let go of Violet's hand, ready take Sir Hugh's, when a third hand broke in between the two of you.

"Sadly sir, miss Y/L/N is already engaged for this dance", and with that, Anthony guided you to the dancefloor, just in time for a waltz.

"I believe you just saved me" you sighed in relief, watching your suitor finally walking away. "I shall be forever in debt with you, Lord Bridgerton"

"Please, call me Anthony" he murmured with a knowing smile gracing his lips. "We know each other too well to be bothered by these titles"

You raised your eyebrows, faking surprise. "Are you to tell me you haven't changed in the slightest, my lord? Even after all these years?"

"Surely I have, but deep down I'm still the boy who ran with you down the hallways of our estate", and looking in his eyes, you caught a glimpse of the mischievous kid you once knew.

You smiled. "So you do remember me"

"My lady... you wound me". Anthony pulled you closer, leaning over your shoulder. "A gentleman never forgets his first kiss"

“A real gentleman would never discuss such matters while dancing with a lady” you reminded him. “Besides, we were nothing but two kids trying to emulate adults: I remember well the disgusted look on your face as you run back crying to your mother”

You noticed an hint of red on your partner’s face but he didn’t seem to care. “Shall I not cherish those old days regardless?” Anthony fixed your gaze in yours. “I recall adventures in the wild corners of the gardens, afternoons spent searching for treasures through my mother’s drawers and rainy days watching my father’s atlas on the settee near the library’s window...”

"...dreaming of all the places we would visit together" you finished for him, smiling fondly at those memories. "I do miss those times: everything was much more easier back then"

"Indeed" Anthony's grip on your hand slightly tightened as the look on his face grew serious. "Now, would you like to tell me what that man has done to put you in such distress a moment ago?"

You freezed in his arms, almost losing the tempo of the dance. "I don't think you would like to hear it..."

"That is for sure" he agreed. "But I need to know what happened. This way I shall find a way to help you"

"And how could you possibly help me?"

"You would be surprised by the power I have, miss Y/L/N". Then, after a twirl: "So? Are you going to enlighten me or shall I beg you?"

With a sigh, you told him what had happened in the gardens, even though the mere remembering gave you chills down your spine.

"I truly cannot understand why he did that" you told him, shaking your head. "I was just trying to make some new acquaintances and he seemed nice... but I did not gave him any hints that I fancied him!"

"I'm sure you didn't, but some men know nothing of honor and virtue". His knitted brow framed a marble face. "I shall make sure Sir Hugh Feversham is exposed for his actions. If he did something to you, rest assured that many other ladies will have more to say on the matter"

Finally, a smile appeared again on your face. "I can't find the words to convey how grateful I am to you, my lord"

"It's the least I can do for an old friend" he said, his mouth now mirroring yours.

For a moment, you just spinned around the room, letting the music guide your steps as you gazed in each other's eyes. You felt so light that it seemed your feet weren't even touching the floor.

"I know this might sound egoistical" Anthony said, breaking the silence, "but, as much as this experience must have been terrible for you, I'm delighted that it brought you back to me, Y/N". His hand moved to the centre of your back, his eyes never leaving yours. You didn't realise how disgracefully close the two of you had gotten. "I shall believe we will see each other more frequently from now on, if you still enjoy my company"

It took you a moment to realise the music had stopped and you two were now still on the dancefloor as everyone moved around like bees above flowers. A shaky breath left your lips.

"I fail to see how I could deny my presence to you after so long"

The smile Anthony gave you took away the last air in your lungs. Suddenly your corset felt too tight around your chest as he put a hand on your elbow to gently pull you to the side of the room. His mother was there, a pleased smile tugging her lips.

"You're a marvelous dancer, my dear, lighter than a butterfly" she said, before looking at you with worry. "Are you quite alright? You seem slightly overheated..."

"I'm feeling wonderfully, Lady Bridgerton. It has been a very pleasant dance, your son is very talented" you swiftly cut her off, taking the focus away from your flushed cheeks.

"I only wish he would show his hidden talents more often" she sighed, giving a side glare to Anthony who simply rolled his eyes. You stifled a laugh, curtseying once more.

"It's been the most welcome surprise meeting you here, Lady Bridgerton. Thank you for being so kind to me"

"The pleasure was all ours". She took again your hand in hers, smiling at you just like a mother would. "And I shall hope we will see you again soon. Perhaps tomorrow for tea? I'm certain your presence will be appreciated by everyone in the household"

You kindly accepted Violet's offer, promising to take her greetings to your mother.

She then eyed Benedict on the other side of the ballroom. "I shall go now and retrieve all my dear children". When Anthony offered his arm to her, she gently shook her head. "There's no need. I'm capable of wander through these rooms without a chaperone. But thank you, dear".

You watched her walk off to his second son and giggled seeing Benedict's resigned look when Violet caught his arm. Like a predator on its prey.

"Even after all those years, my family doesn't fail to make you laugh"

At Anthony's comment you felt the heat in the room rising once again. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to offend-"

"You couldn't offend us even if you tried". He smiled again at you, earning a shy smile from you as well. Then he took your hand.

"Are you to dance with me twice in a evening, Lord Bridgerton?" you asked cheekily. "I wonder what the ton would say".

"As much as I would like to be the next front-page scandal of Lady Whistledown," he said, stroking his thumb on the back of your hand, "I shall now reunite with my family as well"

You lowered your gaze, cursing your boldness more than ever. "Of course, my lord"

"But it has been a pleasure dancing with you, miss Y/L/N. And trust my word when I say that isn't something I can often admit"

He didn't wait for your answer. He took your gloved hand to his mouth, placing on the fabric over your knuckles a light kiss. As your heart pounded against the strings of your corset, you never wished so hardly your skin was bare just were he touched it.

"Goodnight, miss Y/L/N". Anthony bowed. Then, his voice the softest whisper: "Tomorrow won't come fast enough, my lady, and I shall wait impatiently for us to be in the same room again"

Breathless, you watched him walk away, his phantom touch lingering on your hand. You slowly moved it to your mouth, placing a kiss just were he did and with closed eyes, it was like kissing his lips.

"Goodnight, Anthony"

[everlarkficexchange]

Magic as Always

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 71: Magic of Ordinary Days AU: 1940s, Katniss is a single pregnant girl. Desperate for her daughter not to have a child out of wedlock, Mrs Everdeen contacts a priest who in turn knows a young man who just may be willing to help. Sweet, kind and shy Peeta stayed home to take care of the family farm when his beloved brother went to war to never come back. He’s always wanted a family but rural small town life gives little chance to court. He hears of Katniss’ plight and graciously offers to marry her and raise the child as his own. He does everything he can think of to make a home for Katniss and the baby. How does Katniss take it? How does their relationship develop? Will they fall in love? [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: this chapter is rated Teens and Up  

Tags: Historical!AU; WWII; 1940’s Era views on marriage, sexism, pregnancy, etc; Katniss/Marvel relationship; Non-graphic Unprotected Sex; Unplanned Pregnancy; Arrange Marriage; Miscellaneous Religious views; Grief/Mourning; Canon Characters Death; OOC!Mrs.Everdeen; Somewhat OOC!Katniss; Everlark is Endgame; Other tags to be added.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this prompt. I must confess, I’ve never seen the movie ‘The Magic of Ordinary Days’ or read the book the movie is based on. I did a quick skimming on the plot of the movie and then dug up all kinds of reviews on the book, most of my plot points come from a combination of movie and book (which apparently differ only in a few parts), besides what the prompter asked for. I just really loved this prompt, and see the potential of this story, which will be a few chapters long, cross posted to AO3 and I already have a good chunk written ;) The rating will be adjusted too, because there will be explicit Everlark smut in the following chapters. Anon, I hope I don’t disappoint you, this story will be only loosely based on the source material, and adapted to fit THG characters in the narrative, I will try to stick to the main plot points as much as I can, but I’m also taking several liberties with the story. I hope you still like it though. 

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

Prim died on a Tuesday, after a very long, strenuous battle with poliomyelitis. My sweet little sister’s face looked as fresh as a dew drop even in death. 

  “Come now, Katniss,” my mother calls from the open door of the mortuary hall, where visitation took place an hour ago. 

  The mortician has arranged for the coffin to be taken to the cemetery and put in the ground this afternoon. There will be no graveside mourning. It’s all we could pay for, but then again the war has left everyone penniless nowadays.

  A big, rotund man comes to close the coffin, and offers a curt nod. 

  That’s it then. The very last time I’ll ever set eyes on Primrose’s sweet face. 

  “Katniss,” Mother whispers, insistently. It’s probably all she can muster before breaking down in tears.

  I look on at the box my sister’s body lies in, numb and heartsick. I bring my 3 middle fingers to my lips and then rise them in the air. My last salute to my beloved Little Duck. I step away from the coffin and shuffle towards mother. 

  Up close, I can see the deep, dark bruises under my mother’s eyes. She used to be beautiful in her youth— according to friends and old photographs— but now she just looks tired and defeated. I guess having to bury first her husband and then her 15 year old daughter, in less than a year, would have that effect on anyone.

  Prim would’ve looked like our mother, with their soft blonde locks, almond shaped blue eyes and alabaster skin. She had a softer spirit though, she enjoyed music and loved animals. She always said that if she was older, she would’ve joined the Red Cross and signed up to serve as a nurse to our boys in the Pacific, like Father did… Father wasn’t a nurse though, he was a chaplain. 

  It’s funny to think that I inherited so much of my father, like my dark hair, gray eyes and olive skin. We both also share the same aversion to human pain and blood that moves my mother and Prim to action; but unlike Prim, my father’s calling to help the soldiers in their worst situations, passed me and went directly to my baby sister. 

  I sigh… Prim would’ve made a terrific army nurse, if only she hadn’t wasted in bed with that odious disease! If she had been given the chance to live, I’m sure Prim would’ve had so many boys trailing after her. She would marry at some point and have a beautiful full life. 

  I don’t plan on marrying and having a family. If the acute pain in my own chest wasn’t enough warning,  watching my mother walk silently from the funeral home to our apartment, with her head bowed and listening to her quiet sobs at night would be enough evidence that there’s too much sorrow in losing one’s husband and children. 

  I think my efforts will be better spent in cultivating my mind, and getting my degree in botany, like my father always dreamed, anyway… plus, I’m not much of a looker… not like Prim at any rate. 

  We finally arrived at our modest home. Mother drifts ghost-like into the door, and then we both shuffle quietly into our separate bedrooms. There won’t be a meal at the table tonight, but I make sure Prim’s old tomcat gets fed and watered, and after he meows in distress at my sister’s door, I open mine, and let him strut inside my bedroom and hop into my bed. The hideous fur ball and I distrust each other, but he understands his mistress is never coming back, and he’s the last thing I have from her… so he lets me pet him and he cuddles close to my chest as I fall asleep, crying. 

——————————-

Mother and I walk slowly through the busy streets of town, mostly ignoring the bustle and disarray around us. People shout, cars honk horns, a baby cries in the distance, and the few young men rush back and forth in the busy sidewalks, like they’re being lashed by invisible whips.

  “We should stop by the grocer and see if we can pick up some eggs.” Says my mother, pulling her “Sugar Book” out of her handbag. 

  Because of the war, everything is being rationed, from sugar to shoes.

  I could care less about food and clothing, though. But I still go into the shop, dutifully. 

  I’m so immersed in my own thoughts, I don’t see the lanky man walking towards me with his arms full of vittles. 

  We collide. The man’s groceries fly up in every direction, raining over me, as I sit on my rump on the floor. 

  My mother is nowhere to be seen. Typical.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Says the man, pulling a packet of oatmeal from the floor, while extending his other hand to help me up. 

  “No… it’s alright, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Well, let’s agree that we’re both klutzes, and leave it at that?” The man offers.

  I’m on my feet, dusting my skirt off and righting my blouse, “Sure, let’s do that.” I scowl at the skew state of my clothes and finally look up at the man. 

  He’s smiling down at me, and I must admit, his smile is dazzling. He’s got short brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles over his nose. He also towers above me. 

  “My stars! If it isn’t Katniss Everdeen!” The young man says, unexpectedly excited.

  I blink owlishly at him, and try to place his face, but I’m horrible at remembering people. Or their names. 

  “Marvel Quaid,” he offers genially, unfazed by my lack of response, “we went to grade school together?” He prompts, “My pa used to sell luxury goods in District One?”

  “Oh, I think it’s coming back now,” I say smiling for the first time in what feels like months. “You used to throw sticks, pretending they were spears or something,” I tell him, showing that indeed, I do remember him.

  Marvel scrunches his nose, “Javelins, actually. I was pretending I threw javelins. I saw a fellow doing it for the Olympics in a film, and then he won a medal for it. I thought to myself that making a victory lap with the good old American flag flapping after oneself looked like fun; well, I wanted to be a victor too!” He chuckles, then deflates. “But as everything, those dreams are gone now, crushed to dust under the weight of the war.”

  As is the norm, once the war gets brought up, gloominess settles on, dampening the cheeriest of spirits.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m all too familiar with the sentiment.”

  Marvel nods, grimly. 

  “We lost Father in France.” I’m not sure why I said it. “We put my sister in the ground last week, too.” I avert my eyes. 

  “Aww, geez, Kit… that’s truly awful. I’m so sorry for your loss,”

  I’m mildly surprised I don’t immediately recoil at his little pet name. I guess the fact that he doesn’t sound condescending while delivering his condolences, helps. 

  “Oh, well, as my father would’ve said, at least their toils in this world are over. They can finally rest in peace.”

  After a moment of heavy silence, Marvel shares, “I’m being shipped out tomorrow morning.”

  I scowl, “Oh,” I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how he’d manage to evade the draft for this long? Marvel is my age, 19 going on 20… boys get sent to the front lines at 18. “I… I could write to you… if you wanted?” I offer shyly. 

  Isn’t that what young women are being told to do, in order to keep our boys’ morale from plummeting?  

  Marvel grins, showing slightly crooked teeth, “That would be swell, Kit!” He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, “I should go back to my shopping, before they miss me at home. Lord knows when will I have the chance of doing something as mundane as picking up my mother’s weekly grocery allowance.”

  These days it is not only uncommon seeing men doing grocery runs, but simply seeing young, able-body men around, period. All of our boys are either in Europe or the Pacific, fighting to keep the devastation of the World war from reaching our shores.

  “Well, for what is worth, I hope you get to return home safely… you know, so you can do all the boring tasks your mother tells you to do. And when I say safe, I mean, I hope you don’t run anymore into spaced out girls, like me,” I smirk. 

  “Oh, Kit, if only you knew how much I’ve enjoyed our accidental skirmish. It’s like a gift from above, seeing you after all these years. Your smile and the color of your eyes will forever be branded in my mind, to give me a reason to fight. To have a dream,”

  I’m momentarily floored by Marvel’s florid little speech. Nobody has ever said anything nearly as sweet and gallant as that to me, and for a moment, I forget all about my dead sister and father, the war, and my own sorrow. 

  I avert my eyes, bashfully, as he finishes picking up his vittles off the floor.

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I lean over to pick up a can of milk, and put it on top of his pile. 

  “I only speak the truth,” he smiles brightly. 

  My mother chooses to interrupt at the exact moment I bat my lashes at him, “Katniss, there you are! I’ve been waiting for you by the counter.” She shakes her head. 

  Marvel wobbles on his feet, rearranging his load, and then greets my mother, warmly, “Mrs. Everdeen, how nice to see you again,” 

  My mother eyes him, unimpressed. “Good afternoon, young man,” she answers. 

  “Ma’am… pardon my forwardness, but, would it be too troublesome to ask Miss Katniss to accompany a soldier about to be shipped out, to supper in the town?” 

  My mother narrows her eyes, distrust dripping from her voice as she speaks, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. My daughter and I are in mourning, you see,”

  “Oh, this won’t be an untoward celebration of any kind, ma’am. With the war raging on, we’re all in mourning. All I ask for is one last night of normalcy, a chance to reconnect with an old grade-school mate,” he smiles, hopefully, “For old times sake?” 

  I’m watching my mother’s face closely, with bated breath.

  “Very well,” Mother sighs, “You may ask Katniss out to dinner. But have her home by 9 sharp!”  

  I don’t hesitate to step up and give him directions to my apartment building in District 12. 

  I spend the rest of my day giddy and nervous, pressing my best Sunday suit, the gray one with the matching jacket, and polishing my only pair of leather shoes. There isn’t much I can do about my hair… the thing can’t be fashioned into the favored waves, not even putting it in curlers overnight, so I let it be. 

  I briefly wonder if this was all Prim’s doing? Meeting Marvel and mother’s somewhat easy aquiciscent. Prim hated seeing me sad, and constantly talked about how she’d love to help me get ready for dates with a beau. She couldn’t wait to be of courting age and date a strapping, young man herself… but of course, that would never happen for her, but she would probably still want to see me have those things. 

  Maybe Marvel is right, and our serendipitous encounter is a gift from above, to heal our wounds… at least for the night. 

  ————————-

  Marvel arrives at my house in his father’s car at 5:45. Riding is now such a luxury, with gasoline being rationed and all. He takes me to a quaint little dinner in the middle of town. We share malts, a greasy burger, and a small portion of fries and onion rings. 

  We talk about baseball:

  “You’d look good in a baseball uniform, Kit! Can you still run as fast as you did in school?” 

  I laugh. “I’m not much for sports,” I demure, “but I’ve heard playing in one of the new teams pays alright. Anyway, I’m gonna be starting my second year of college soon. I put my studies on hold while Prim was at her worst, but now that it’s only just me and mother… I’m anxious to go back to study.”

  “Wow, beautiful and smart!”

  We talk about cars:

  “I loved driving… but Mother sold our car when my sister took a turn for the worse. She didn’t want to at first, saying that Father saved up to buy it, and it held sentimental value to her, but I had to push to sell it. We needed the money and gas was a nightmare to come by, anyway,”

  “The only reason we still have ours,” says Marvel, “is because Pa is too stubborn to let go of the things that still made him feel wealthy.” He scowls, “He’s trying to get into the ice business now, since it’s pretty much the only thing one where the raw material is plenty and relatively cheap, and there’s guarantee that people will buy the product… everyone still needs ice for their ice boxes, right?” 

  No one can afford luxuries anymore with every penny going out to support our boys in the battlefields.

  We talk about many other subjects: his sister’s wedding; my father’s unit getting pinned and killed by Germans… We didn’t get a body to bury, but I got a medal on his behalf as his eldest child. 

  Marvel lets me sniffle against his chest, and then kisses my lips slowly. 

  I’ve never been kissed on the lips, and I feel my face heat up. 

  “Would you… like to take a drive with me, Kit?”

  We drive all the way to the city limit. It’s exhilarating to be in a car again, and sitting at the overlook, at twilight,  alone with a handsome boy, feels positively forbidden! 

  I’ve never done anything remotely injudicious all my life, and this whole moment feels… magical… exciting! 

  Tentatively, I initiated our next kiss, but he takes over in a rush of caresses and flitting touches. 

  “Beautiful, graceful, Kit. You have no match!”

  “Marvel…” I kiss him again, not knowing how to answer his sentiments with words.

  His hands are restless, groping my shoulders and elbows. “I wished he had more time! I would’ve loved to marry you before departing. I would’ve show you so much passion and love!”

  “You still can show me, Marvel… you absolutely can!” 

  It’s all the permission he needs to dive into a frenzy. He doesn’t stop until the deed is done, and we’re a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs in the back seat of the car, only partially clothed. 

  A deep feeling of lethargy pours over me. My muscles are sore and heavy, and wished I could fall asleep in here. 

  “I intend on coming back to marry you, Katniss,” Marvel says, stretching his lanky, long legs to zip up his pants. 

  I sit up and start finger-combing my ruined hair, hoping my mother won’t notice the strands are extra frizzy. “Um… I guess we should after this,” I say shyly, gesturing between us. 

  “You could still go to college while I’m away,” he offers with magnanimity.

  “You… wouldn’t mind that?” I ask incredulous, college women are so rare, unless they’re trying to become nurses or teachers. Most girls start courting right after high school and get married in the span of one to two years, and their husbands don’t normally encourage an education beyond what their wives came into the marriage with; so to hear Marvel say that wouldn’t mi d me stay in college is just about the greatest thing possible!

  “My darling, Kit, I don’t want you to be one of those girls pining and wasting away for her beau. I’ll be busy at war, it’ll be unfair to keep you from occupying your own time while you wait fir my return. Go to college, my clever girl!”

  I smile indulgently at him, leaning closer to slip his necktie around the collar of his shirt, “You are truly a generous, loving man,” I say.

  Marvel beams, circling my waist with his arms pulling me against his body. “It’s all inspired by you, sugar plum!”

  I giggle, kissing his cheek, “I’ll write to you every day!” I promise. 

  “That’s nice… but just so you know, I might not be able to write back right away. It’ll be a while before I get settled enough to write. But you’ll be in my thoughts every minute of every day, and that’s the honest truth! I’m serious about marrying you when I return, Kit,” he kisses me again. And then, he looks at his watch, sighing. “It’s 8:32. We should get on going, gotta keep in my future mother-in-law’s good graces!” 

  We share a carefree laugh, and finish tidying ourselves up to drive back to my house. 

  He walks me to the door, takes me in his arms, and kisses me passionately before promising he’d be back to officially ask for my hand in marriage, and for my part, I swear I’ll write to him every day until he returns home safe and sound. 

  But neither of us keeps our promises in the end, although I tried. 

  ————————-

  Three weeks go by and I keep my word of writing daily letters. I receive no word in return from Marvel, but think nothing of it… Europe is far and traveling by sea is tedious and time consuming; Marvel will get in touch once he’s settled down. 

  Another week goes by, still without news from my would-be fiancé. I still don’t worry. I’ve been busy with university, and the few other girls attending school with me keep me busy, but my heavier workload is starting to get to me.

  I’m usually so tired and moody after school that socializing with my classmates becomes a chore. I barely eat supper before I’m passing out in bed, and my letters to Marvel start to get shorter and simpler with every passing day.

  I skip writing one afternoon altogether, and take a long nap. Buttercup— Prim’s ugly cat— perches on my bed like a sentinel to watch me sleep. I believe he’s worried about me… stupid, clingy cat thinks I’m sick.

  But the feline’s intuition proves right, because just two days later, I shoot out of bed and run into the washroom to spill every last ounce of last night supper into the toilet. I must’ve caught a bug or something! 

  I feel queasy and lightheaded every morning after. My appetite wanes and it seems my delicate stomach can only tolerate pears, and broth. 

  I visit the post office to place out my letters to Marvel almost everyday; Every time I come, the nice old mailman comments on how sweet it is to see all the young-uns holding romance strong. Marvel has yet to respond to one of my letters, so I just smile tightly and demure. 

  I’ve been thinking though; the longer I go without news of my supposed future husband, and despite the whirlwind night of romance with him, I start questioning my actions, my promises. I never wanted to marry before, and suddenly I was okay getting a hasty, unofficial engagement with a virtual stranger, I barely remember from grade school… maybe it’s better if Marvel never writes. 

  My plans on earning a college degree and finding a well paying job will go unencumbered— I’m aware women in prominent working professions are as rare as snow in July, but women’s presence in the working forces keep growing as industries need laborers to keep up producing while the men fight in the war. Educated women are almost becoming less rare. 

  At the two month mark since I last saw Marvel, I become weepier than usual… is to be expected in my opinion; Prim’s been gone for a little over two months and she was the only person I knew I loved. But now I’m worrying about my health on top of everything.

  One morning, while I’m kneeling on the cold, hard floor in front of the toilet, feeling miserable and tired, my mother calls my name from the open door.

  “Katniss, I think it’s time to get a test.” She states evenly, and then enters the room to fetch a damp washcloth to wipe my face clean. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’m afraid you may be with child,” she sighs. 

  I squirm. “No,” I gasp. “I— I can’t be with child. I just can’t!” But the thought has crossed my mind a few times already. “It’s not supposed to be this way!”

  “I know, child,” My mother pats my head, “there’s only one way to know. Get dressed for the day, I will call the most discreet physician I know, and have him pay us a visit.” 

  ————————-

  Doctor Aurelius— a physician my mother has helped deliver babies and treat maladies with— confirms the pregnancy with a grim face. 

  I sit at my kitchen table numb and despondent. My mother writes a check to the doctor for his services, while talking in no so hush tones in the other room. I listen to their whole conversation, as if submerged in water.

  “I blame myself for this, doctor. I should have kept a closer eye on her,” 

  “Don’t blame yourself Ms. Everdeen, it’s that war business bringing out all sorts of evil into the world! It’s unfortunate the rise of these cases in our community. Young ladies— from good families!— engaging in acts ought to be saved for marriage. Youth do things without thinking, guided by fear. Our boys fear they may not return from that senseless, awful war, and settle down properly, and I don’t blame them one little bit.”

  “The only solace I have right now, is that my poor husband is not here to see the shame that’s fallen over our family,”

  “I understand the sentiment, ma’am. There’s no telling how Preacher Everdeen would’ve taken this blow. But I’m sure things will work out as soon as young Katniss hears from the father…” 

  I dissolve into silent tears then. My mother escorts the doctor to the door and then there’s silence. 

  My pinky finger curls into the soft fabric of the table cloth, and I try to ignore the urge to vomit boiling in my stomach. There’s one thought circling mi mind: my college days are over.

  ——————————-

“Ah! Miss Everdeen, I have something for you.” Says the mailman as soon as I reach the desk. He smiles, but rather sadly, like he’s about to give me bad news. 

  I’ve come to the post office with urgent letters every day for 6 days, and he’s never looked at me this way. 

  The old man digs around for a moment and almost reluctantly, passes a parcel tied up in twine. An envelope is attached to the top of the parcel, and with a sinking feeling, I realized it’s a stack of my own letters. 

  “It came in today, miss.” Says the man, voice laced with pity. “Sorry for your loss.” He says. 

  At first I don’t understand what he could possibly mean by that; he’s offered his sympathies fir my dead father and sister already; it makes absolutely no sense to repeat himself randomly after so long. 

  Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. 

  I gasp, and press the parcel to my chest. “Oh no! Marvel!” I whisper. I give the man a hasty wave, thanking him, and rush out of the post office like mad. 

  Tears run down my cheeks, while I dash home, imagining the worst. “Poor, Marvel!” Is all I can think.

  “Katniss, what’s wrong?” My mother calls, alarmed, when I rush to my bedroom, sobbing. She follows me in, and watches me tear into the envelope at the top of the stack. 

  I frown in confusion when I’m met with handwritten, chicken-scratch scrawl, instead of a formal missive typed in official US military stationary. 

  My scowl deepens as my eyes rove over the flowery vocabulary, and then I screech, “What?!” 

  “Katniss, what’s going on?” 

  I ignore my mother when she approaches to read over my shoulder; I step around her, shaking the piece of paper in my hands and stand by the window, as if sunlight will make the words change their meaning.

  I smooth the creases and folds on the page over, and read out loud, “Dearest Kit, sorry it took so long to write, it’s been a wild time since we arrived and finding time to correspond with everyone back home it’s been hard.

  “At times, your letters have been the sole source of light and hope in the darkness of this conflict. Is for that reason, and with a heavy heart, that I must come clean to you now. I truly meant it when I swore to come back and make you my wife, but as the Good Book says, the Lord works in mysterious ways, and love has sprouted out the most unlikely place! Kit, I’ve fallen in love and married a lovely gal here in England…”

  I stop reading. He goes on talking about the why and how, but I sincerely don’t care. 

  “That good for nothing, virtue dasher, future crushing… liar!” My mother bleats to the ceiling, raising her palms over her head, dramatically. 

  I’m angry too, of course. I feel used and disposed of like a dirty rag, but my mother’s reaction is borderline hilarious. Except, it isn’t. 

  I’m pregnant, unmarried, and soon— once my still flat stomach starts rounding— I’ll be socially ostracized for my condition. My only saving grace was the promise of marriage that bastard Marvel had given me. But that’s gone now. 

  “I knew that boy was bad news the second I laid eyes on him! He never even introduced himself to me, the little weasel! This is my fault. My fault! I should’ve never allowed you to run amok with the likes of him…”

  “Mother, will you please?” I nearly growl, gesturing at the open bedroom door.

  She stares at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, before pursing her lips in disapproval, and stalking out of the room muttering her aggravation under her breath. 

  I sink into my bed with Marvel’s stupid letter crumpling in my fist. A single, hot, angry tear rolls down my face, and for the first time since finding out of its existence, I hug my midsection and address my child, “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess. I know you didn’t ask for a mother like me, but I’m all you got now, little one. I promise we will be alright… I’ll try not to let you down.”

  ———————-

  My mother has been unbearable for the last two days. She cries in her room worse than when Prim died, and when she sees me, she starts lamenting my poor choice, like I’m not even standing there… as if I don’t feel discouraged enough. 

  I keep myself busy with my education. I will need to earn this diploma now more than ever before, and I need to do as much as I can before the baby arrives and my studies get put on hold. 

  In the meantime, I scout the newspapers for possible work options to sustain me and my mother. Our savings keep diminishing and the small stipend my mother got from the Army since my father passed away is becoming more insufficient by the day. 

  There’s a knock on the front door, and I push out my chair unhappy by the interruption. 

  “Afternoon Miss Katniss! Would you let your mother know she’s got a telephone call down in the lobby?” Says the building’s doorkeeper. 

  “Of course, thank you. She’ll be right down!”

  Telephones are yet another luxury we had to give up when moved to this small place after losing my father. 

  I go back to my job hunt, and my mother descends to the lobby, quickly. 

  She returns after only 10 minutes, almost running through the door, excitedly calling my name. Tears wet her face, but her smile is so blinding, even without knowing what sort of news she’s heard to cause her such joy, I stand from the table with nervous anticipation. 

  “Oh, Katniss! Katniss my dear daughter, you’re saved!” She exclaims, hugging me tightly. 

  I’m confused. I step away from her embrace, “What do you mean?” 

  “It’s the best thing possible ever, I tell you! The Lord has answered all of my prayers!”

  “This is all so exciting and all, mother, but… could you please share this great news already?” 

  My mother cups my face in her hands, and beams at me, “You need to pack your things, darling! Your father’s good friend, Reverend Undersee, has found a husband, and you are to wed, in three days time!”

  —————————

Reverend Undersee and his daughter, Madge, meet me and my mother at the rinky dink bus station, in the equally tiny town my mother has banished me to.

  “Katniss! How long has it been?” Says Madge, hugging me enthusiastically.

  I bite my tongue to keep the acidic retort of “not long enough!” to leave my mouth. 

  “Welcome to Panem,” says the reverend, soberly, shaking my mother’s hand in greeting.

  “Thank you, revered. We appreciate your hospitality and your understanding,” my mother responds, then gives me a pointed look and a wordless command. 

  I nod and mutter, “Thank you, sir. Madge,” 

  I scowl at a crack in the pavement, not feeling an iota of gratefulness for this charade! 

  Any man agreeing to this questionable union has to either be desperate, or be hiding terrible, ulterior motives to go along with all of this. Nobody in their right mind would willingly marry a girl pregnant with another man’s baby, and be happy about it… unless that’s the reason! 

  I shudder at the thought. 

  But it is a very real possibility that my intended is a simpleton, who can’t find a wife otherwise… or worse! It could be a man very advanced in age, looking for a supple, young body to leech off. Gross!

  My mother had been too excited about the news that a man offered to marry me (as if I asked for, or even wanted a husband!) to bother to ask his name. 

  Reverend Undersee coughs daintily, clears his throat, and starts, like he’s giving a lecture at the university. “It is our Christian duty to lend a helping hand to widows and orphans in their time of needs. Same way it’s our duty to keep the memory and honor of an old friend from being dragged into the mud.”

  I wince at the harsh words, and let my face fall lower, if that’s even possible. 

  “Well, it’s a good thing that we are all recipients of the abundant grace of the Lord, which covers multitude of faults, and it’s never hard to reach,” a deep, velvety, masculine voice cuts into my embarrassment. 

  I lift my eyes from the ground, to find a man striding confidently in our direction. He smiles kindly at me, his eyes fixed on my own, like I’m the only person still standing in the station.

  He finally cedes our staring contest, to take in the rest of the group.

  A knot forms in the pit of my stomach, because I recognize him from years past when my family used to visit this town, and I’m afraid I know exactly why he’s here. 

  “Good afternoon, all. I apologize for my tardiness, I had a last second detail to take care of before leaving the house,” he nods in our general direction, taking his hat off; a riot of ashy blonde curls falls onto his forehead, before bending forward to shake my mother’s hand, “I’m Peeta Mellark, at your service, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

  “Likewise, mister Mellark,” says my mother, her lips twitch tersely, “Widow Everdeen, and this here is my daughter Katniss… your bride.” 

  Peeta Mellark’s baby blue eyes slip back to mine, and the left side corner of lips curls into a shy, earnest smile. “Welcome to Panem, Katniss, I’ll sure do my best, so you’d like it here.”

[jimlingss]

Moirai [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 6.2k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You turn the corner and dart down the hall.   “My lady!”   There’s a parade of maids chasing after you, Joan included in the bunch, and a frightened guard whose metal armour clanks with each movement. You grin, swinging your wooden sword around at them with a ‘huzzah!’. Pretending you’re a champion, you twirl around the pillar with one arm. But even with your theatrics, they’re still meters away and out of reach.   “Please! Come back! You have your dance lessons!”   You stick out your tongue. “Then catch me!”   It’s been one full year since you’ve started learning swordsmanship and admittedly, it’s become one of your most favourite times of the day. It beats sitting at a desk with the old fart droning on and on about dumb things you already know or having your posture criticized over and over again during dance lessons.    You’re frankly getting tired of having information and insults shoved down your throat.    Sword lessons are the only time you can be out in the sun and do whatever you want. You can tell that you’re improving too. It’s a pain in the ass to get the guards to take you seriously, but sometimes the tips and tricks they give are pretty helpful.   It’s fun.   Especially when there are people desperately chasing you.   “P-Please!” one of the girls cries out, running out of breath.   One of the best perks about being a five-year old is having endless energy in your body. And you’ll happily take advantage of that while you still can. “Pirates never give up! Argh, matey!”   But your play time is unfortunately interrupted by a deadpanning voice—   “What are you doing?”    The familiar sharp voice sends shivers up your spine and you freeze.   Your parade halts on their heels as well, immediately dropping their heads to the ground and placing one hand over the other reverently. “Your grace.”   “What is going on here?” Your mother’s footsteps echo through the marble hall, ball gown dragged behind her as her scrutinizing eyes lay on the help, the knight and then to you.   “I’m so sorry,” Joan is quick to confess, “The lady refuses to attend her dance practices.”   And she’s quick to throw you under the bus.   If you could, you’d stick up your middle finger at her.   Your mother turns, her glare laid upon you. You brace yourself.   “This is not how the future Devereux head should act.” Her voice is above a slight murmur, yet chilling and heavy. Her narrowed eyes have dimmed as they look upon you. She doesn’t need to yell to be frightening. “The Chevalier household has their youngest daughter playing piano and they recently went to the castle to show her talent. How will you compete, Anastasia?”   “I—”   “Or will you continue to tarnish our family’s name by being a child?”   You are a child. Technically.    The woman looms over you, her demeanour imposing and the burden of the household’s name lays upon your shoulders. You can’t help but feel small. It’s no wonder Anastasia took the Prince’s kindness as love and fell for him so quickly. Moments with him were her moments of freedom.   You stay quiet, solemn, knowing it’s not worth arguing. Your eyes instead focus on a younger maid who’s silently snickering to herself and before you can make note for later, your vision blurs.   “From now on, your swordsmanship lessons will be retracted until you’ve caught up with the rest of your lessons,” she says while looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance. “The only places you are to be permitted in for the next month is your room and the study—”   It’s unfair. A punishment that doesn’t fit the crime.   But your voice doesn’t come out of your mouth.   The world tilts on an axis. It swirls. Your head is lightweight.    And before you could figure out what’s happening, there’s a shrill cry for you — “my lady!” — and you feel yourself falling back before the universe becomes pitch black. An abyss of nothing.   //   “Why did she faint?!”   When you come to, your first thought is that you’ve died. Again.   Illness. Heart attack. Maybe from the plague.    Fuck.   It’s frightening and you feel an urge to cry, knowing that you yet again didn’t complete your goal of living a long and fruitful life. That the years spent fighting for your survival were ultimately useless. But then you hear far away voices and realize your fingers can twitch. The soft mattress underneath you registers soon after and it sinks in that you’re in your room, bedridden.   “Well….your grace…”   “On with it! I didn’t bring you here to waste my time!”   “Herrick…”   Oh right. It’s the Eve of the Solar Festival, isn’t it? A day where commoners celebrate the empire and wish for its everlasting prosperity. You remember since you’ve never gone before. Around this same time last year and the year before that, you fell ill in the exact same way — cold, chest aching, dizzy spells.    It’s odd. Usually you aren’t so weak and yet somehow, you always get better in the morning once the festival is over. You don’t remember this ever being mentioned in the original game either. Or at least Anastasia never said anything about it and she would’ve totally milked it for the Prince’s attention if she could’ve. But maybe it’s an outside detail. Something the game developers were going to include in a future DLC.   “We don’t know what’s happening to the lady, your grace,” the healer says.   Your father bellows from his stomach, “Excuse me?!”   “H-Her pulse reads well and she has no fever either. I-It’s a very unusual case.”   In your half-consciousness, you perceive the bitter silence.    “Heal her at all costs.” Your father’s footsteps fade and your mother sighs.   You wish you couldn’t hear. Otherwise, it would be easy to demonize the pair as unsympathetic, psychopathic parents who only consider their daughter a chess piece. You’re sure the only reason they’re expressing so much concern is because you are the only heir after all. They really have no future if Anastasia dies.    But it’s still hard to quell the hope that they actually care for your wellbeing.    Still, you wish you couldn’t hear their desperation. It wouldn’t have to be so conflicting. Or bittersweet. The only time they show an ounce of their affection is when you’re on your deathbed.   You muster the strength to open your eyes once everyone’s left the room.    Most likely, you’ll live through this. You still have yet to have any of the game’s encounters or even start. Anastasia was alive for most of it, enough to terrorize the main character, so you’ll live too.   Shit. When does the game start again?   The opening scene was right before the debutante ball was held for all the girls in the empire.   You count on your fingers — give or take, there’s twelve or thirteen years left….   But you remember from the wiki fan page that Anastasia became engaged to the Crown Prince when they were kids.    Oh god. If you weren’t so weak, you’d roll over and scream into your pillow.   There’s an unsettling feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach.   No matter how much effort you put forth, you don’t know how you’re going to avoid that arrangement.

Turns out, it’s unavoidable.   It begins two years later at seven years old, the D-day that you were dreading, the first domino that begins all the others.   “No! Please!” The entire household is stunned at how you’ve grabbed onto the Duke’s leg and wrapped your limbs around his appendage, practically dead weight and not allowing him to move a single step.    All your life, you’ve kept a good amount of distance between your parents — never daring to overstep your boundaries or sass them back no matter how much you wanted to. It’s more trouble than it’s worth anyway and it’s better to play on their good side.   But you’ve thrown in the towel. This is your last desperate attempt.   “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll go to all my dance lessons and all my history lessons and all my math lessons. Please, papa! Please!” You’re practically crying aloud. You wish someone would help you. “I don’t want to go to the Royal Palace!”   Edith is shaking her head while Joan is mortified at the sidelines.   Your mother’s expression is twisted in disgust while your dad is wholly aghast. Hey — it’s not like you wanted to do this either, alright?!   But your pleas fall on deaf ears. To them, it’s merely the whining of a child. A temper tantrum.   “My lady, please stop this,” Joan harshly whispers and rushes to pry your grip off of the Duke’s leg. Several others come too, maids and kitchen staff alike. Your strength is no match for theirs.   “My stomach hurts!”   Your father has no sympathy. “We’ve delayed enough times, Anastasia. If we postpone the meeting with the King again, it would be shameful to our house. Now get up.”   He’s done hearing the excuses — and while you’d usually internally call him out for being an ass, the moment you heard he wanted to take you to the palace, you did claim you have a fever.    Then you claimed diarrhea. A cough. Hid for several hours.   You’re actually surprised you managed to delay it for this long.   “There’s no choice, my lady,” Joan mutters quickly as she fixes the ribbons in your pretty hairdo. “You must go with the Duke today.”   Deep down, you know it’s true. You’ll be pulled along anyhow.    But you wish they would understand that this is a matter of life and death for you.   Your silence is a sign of raising the white flag and Joan retracts back to her place as your dad turns to leave the manor. He adjusts his hat as he’s escorted to the carriage and you’re about to trail after him, but your mother stops you.   You expect her to reprimand you, give an earful of what you should and shouldn’t do. But you’re surprised when she lowers herself down to your eye level.    She catches you off guard when she reaches out to button up your pea coat, attentive and careful in each swift movement. “This is a really important meeting, Anastasia. Do you understand?”    Her voice is soft, quiet enough that no one else aside from you can hear. You nod.   “You must be on your best behaviour. Your father, me, all the workers here, and the whole House of Devereux will be relying on you.” Wow. Way to not pressure a seven year old. “Today is the day that might change our lives for the better.”   As she finishes buttoning, her hands stroke your shoulders down your arms. The Duchess smiles gingerly, tiredly. For a moment, you feel guilty for being so selfish — for prioritizing your own survival and desires when everyone else was quite literally relying on you for their livelihood.   You find yourself swallowing hard before nodding again.    You get into the carriage without another word.    Well fuck. What now?   A part of you wishes you ran away when you had the opportunity — even though there was a good chance you would’ve been kidnapped and sold at an underground market or gone hungry or be shipped back right to your parents. Ashea, like any other place, doesn’t take kindly to wandering children.   But at least then you would’ve had more control and choice.    You know this isn’t just a fun field trip to the palace. The only reason the Duke and the King would meet like this is to seek an engagement. Your engagement with the Prince’s.    Half an hour later, you peek out the carriage windows to see the castle at the horizon.   Stone walls, seven towers, lookouts, the empire’s flag fluttering in the breeze — it’s a beautiful place with rolling green hills and beds of flowers that wind up the path. It’s a hundred times more grand than the Devereux estate and ten times the size too, stretching across for miles. But it’s also the location where all of it happens.    The beginning. The climax. The end.   “Anastasia.”   Your attention is taken when your father steps off the carriage. You take the servant's hand and hop down onto the cobblestone, following your father closely. He greets an important person or two and you lower your head to them in greeting as they complement how mannerly you are.   The two of you are led through open, lavish halls full of life-sized portraits and marble statues, and then through the garden. Even in both your lifetimes, you’ve never seen so many different kinds of flowers and vivid hues in one place.    Pansies. Orchids. Marigold.    Magenta. Lavender. Marmalade.   But you don't get to admire it for long. Not when the gazebo comes into sight.    A man with straight posture, dark hair streaked with gray to show his age and deep set eyes sits at the rounded table. Even with the absence of his crown, his status is shown through his navy cape ornate with golden swirls held together by an emerald jewel embellished with the royal crest. Wrinkles around his mouth, he has a fiercely stern expression until he cordially smiles as your father approaches.    Beside him is a spitting image, a smaller boy slumped in the white chair, visibly bored.   “Herrick! Good to see you, my old friend.”   “Your Majesty.” Your father bows and you follow suit, giving a curtsy and lowering your head. But at the same time, you can’t help peeking at the boy. His eyes meet yours and you look away.   Oh fuck.   It’s the first meeting between the Prince and Anastasia.    You’re sure for her it was impactful, nerve wracking, life changing. And it’s like that for you as well, but not so much on the positive side.   “Please, the formalities. Is this the daughter you've been speaking so highly about?”   “Yes, this is my only child, Anastasia.”   You plaster on a perfect, little smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”   The King hums. “A very lovely child indeed. The Devereux House is blessed.”   The Duke smiles. “Thank you.”   “Please sit and make yourselves welcome.” The King gestures and the servants nearby scurry over, pulling out your chairs, pouring tea and placing plates of biscuits on their table. In a blink, they’ve finished and you can’t help but muse how much better they are than the servants back at home. The King smiles and looks at his son. “Jungkook, don’t you have anything to say?”   “Nice to meet you,” he deadpans before his doe eyes wander out to the gardens.    Jungkook is wholly disinterested in you and this entire affair — you don’t blame him. You bet any seven year old would be itching to get out of their seat. But looking at him, you can’t believe you liked him so much in the game. You even had him as your phone wallpaper for a few months.   But from the perspective of Anastasia and knowing your outcome and your impending demise, he’s not even cute as a kid.   If anything, sitting across from him stresses you the fuck out.   You weren’t supposed to even meet him. This was the exact opposite of your battle plans. And yet the engagement is going to happen whether you like it or not. The greatest irony of all is that you know he’ll end up falling in love with the main character anyway instead of you. Aka. the orphaned girl who ends up adopted by a baron.   This whole ordeal only serves to make you suffer.   The only way you could sabotage this meeting now is by slamming the teapot over Prince Jungkook’s head. And that would either get you thrown in jail for treason and executed or sent back to the Devereux estate on house arrest where your mother would kill you.   Oh god. It’s death either way.   “Are the sweets not to your liking?”   It takes a second for you to register that the King is looking at you. That he’s speaking to you.   You go wide-eyed, realizing you haven’t had a bite of the cakes, the biscuits or sipped on any tea. You’ve completely tuned out their conversation. But he’s been watching you and Jungkook from the corner of his eye, assessing your interactions closely.    Your palms go clammy as you open your mouth before closing it.    “She’s just shy,” your dad swiftly informs with a polite smile. It’s a complete lie, but one the royal monarch believes.   “Ah. We shouldn’t bore them with adult talk then.” The man turns to his son. “Jungkook, why don’t you go off and play with Anastasia here?”   “Okay,” he mumbles and slides off his chair.   You follow suit, a bit relieved that you were dismissed from the overly formal atmosphere.   The two of you go deeper into the gardens until the gazes of your father and the King’s fade from view. Jungkook is wearing a white ensemble with a cape which he dirties with the way he’s kicking rocks in his path. He seems burdened that you’re beside him.   “What do you like playing?” he asks.   You’re perplexed on how to answer. You’re not sure how you should play with an actual seven year old. Then again, you like to run away from the maids and swing your sword around on your down time. But that’s just because you like their reactions.   “Sword fighting.”   Jungkook blanches as if he just bit into a lemon. “What kind of girl plays with swords?”   Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to kick the royal prince right in his shin.    But as the annoyance floods you, an epiphany comes along with it — if you can’t avoid Jungkook, maybe it’s time to switch strategies. Maybe you can start sowing the seeds of your future survival right here, right now. If one day, he’ll be condemning you of countless crimes and looking down at you as an evil villain, maybe you can turn his perception in the opposite direction.   Harmless. Overbearingly nice. Arrows that practically point ‘I’M NOT A THREAT WHATSOEVER!’.    You’re a genius.   You force the highest pitched giggle you can. “Really?”   Jungkook kicks another rock. “Girls have flimsy arms and trip every time you touch them.”   Ah. The ancient version of: girls have cooties and so you should stay away from them. Alright, alright. You can work with this.   “What do you like playing, Your Highness?”   “Anything that’s not with girls.”   You pause and laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.   Jungkook suddenly lifts his head and turns to you with the swivel of his heel. You stop as well and his index finger juts right in your face. “Since I’m the prince, I’ll have mercy on you. We can play servant and king.”   “What’s servant and king?”   “I’m the king.” His thumb pokes himself and then he’s back to pointing right between your eyes again. “You’re the servant. You have to follow me and all my orders or off with your head!”   What a little shit.   How is this going to be any fun for you?!   But you draw an enormous grin on your face, left eye twitching in the process. “Sounds like fun, Your Highness!”   He strolls off. “Let’s go, dumb dumb.”   Your teeth grit and you inhale a deep breath. It hurts your pride to be insulted by a literal seven year old, but you can handle it. When it comes to life or death, you’ll easily befriend the hero.   “Fetch that stick, peasant!”   The prince points at the distance and looks at you expectedly.   Your teeth grit. But you muster a smile and dash forward.   When it comes to life or death, you’ll befriend the hero……….probably.   “Here you go, Your Highness.”   You present the stick to him with both hands and the brat smirks. A rush of air leaves his nose and then he takes the stick. You’re not sure what to expect, but your entire body freezes when he hurls it as far as his arms can go. He points between your brows a second later. “Go get it!”   Motherfucker. “Yes!”    Once Jungkook’s tired of having you fetch like a dog, you trail after him closely. The green hedges are triple your size, acting like corridors of the garden before they open up to certain areas filled with beds of flowers or a fountain. Some paths are unpaved, so you listen to the crunch of rocks underneath his shoes amidst the quiet.    When you’re not out of breath and running at his command, it finally sinks in that it’s the first time you’re with a main character of the game. For the seven years of this lifetime thus far, there was only really you. Your parents were supporting characters at best who just took the opportunity to slyly diss the main heroine a few times at royal gatherings. But other than that, you’re currently facing the backside of someone you know a lot about.   Who he will become. What his future holds. What his desires are.   You pipe up, “Prince Jungkook—”   “That’s Your Highness, peasant!”   You clench your jaw. “Your Highness…”   “What?”   You quicken your steps until you’re beside him and he turns his head. “I’ll support you forever if you want to fall in love with anyone! I don’t care about being the crown princess or the queen!”    For good measure, you flash a wink and a thumbs up.   “What?” His boyish face is twisted up in disgust. “Why would a peasant be a queen?”   You hold in your sigh. “I’m just saying. If we ever get engaged or something, it can always be annulled when we’re older. So feel free to love on, Your Highness. Make love, not war!”   Your words completely fly over Jungkook’s head.   His face reads that he has no clue what you’re talking about.   And he turns away from you. “You’re weird.”   You scoff.    You’re not sure how you can become friendly with a seven year old when you’re internally twenty years older than he is. If you had chocolate on you, you’d use that as a bargaining chip. But clearly, you only have your body, brain and the surroundings at the moment….   What do seven year old boys like?   What do they like?   As you scan your surroundings, your eye catches something in the bushes. You stop and get closer.   At the same time, Jungkook realizes you’re not following him anymore and turns around. “What are you doing, peasa—” His words are cut short by a shrill shriek of absolute terror.   Your brows furrow and you thrust your hand closer to him. “It’s a ladybug.”   The tiny red and black polka dotted bug is crawling in your hand. Jungkook screams again.   He’s stumbling back, nearly tripping onto his butt, doe eyes reflected with complete horror as if you just chopped off his mom’s head. “Get that thing away from me!” his voice cracks up and down two different octaves and realizing his weakness, you grin.   You know your plan was to seem as harmless as possible, but it’s just too much fun teasing him.   “What thing, Your Highness? Your servant is merely showing you a small forest creature.”   “No! Stop!”   He scrambles and starts running away.   You chase after him while giggling manically. “Prince Jungkook! Where are you going!”   “Get the bug away from me!”   He turns over his shoulder with eyeballs nearly falling out of their sockets, face bright red, and you take the opportunity to toss the ladybug at him. Jungkook’s shrieks echo, pitched and earsplitting.   You’re forced to stop with how hard you’re laughing and by then, he’s ran for the hills, completely gone from sight.   Oh god. You can’t believe he’s so scared.    You can’t believe you were so scared — he’s just a kid.   Your giggles taper off as you wander the gardens by yourself. It’s freeing to stroll at your own pace without a brat demanding you to fetch sticks or barking at you to do this and that. It’s a chance to finally admire the surroundings.   You’re sure the first time Anastasia saw the castle, it became her dream home. The place is similar to the aesthetic background graphics of the game and it was always described as beautiful by all the characters. And it really is that way.   But this is also the place of her demise and possibly yours.    You’re sure the only time you’ll be able to enjoy the palace and be this carefree is right now.   You’re admiring the blooming carnations, peony and roses as you turn the corner. The figure standing by the sprouting fountain doesn’t register until after a delayed moment and your eyes lift to see a woman — mysterious in her gray dress. It’s simple attire, but the fabrics are layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow to the breeze. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you.   You realize you’re staring and you blink several times, approaching her politely.    She pulls her charcoal shawl closer to her and smiles. The light wrinkles around her kind eyes crease. “Are you lost, child?”   You shake your head. “No. I’m just looking.”   She crouches down to match your height, gazing at you tenderly. “Where are your parents?”   “My dad’s talking to the King.” You point off in the distance as curiosity eats at you. She doesn’t look like an ordinary worker but not a visitor of the castle either. “I’m Anastasia.”   She searches your expression as if she’s endeared by you. “That’s a beautiful name.”   “Thanks! Who’re you?”   She’s soft-spoken, voice above a quiet murmur, “My name is Erena Robane.”   You frown. The name rings a bell. “Lady Robane?”   “No.” Her laugh tinkles. “I’m no lady.”    Before you can press your mind any further and pick apart your brain at why her name sounds so familiar, she reaches into the small pouch she was carrying and hands you a wrapped piece of candy. “Would you like one?”   Your eyes light up at the pink square. “Yes, please!”    You know better, as an internal twenty seven year old, than to take candy from strangers, but the Duke and Duchess never give you any sweets. So you’ll happily take what you can.   Erena smiles and drops the treat into your outstretched palm.   Not wanting to risk getting it confiscated by Edith, Joan or your mother if you brought it home, you quickly unwrap it and throw it into your mouth. It’s peppermint and it’s pretty damn good.   The woman looks at you patiently, waiting for a reaction, so you give her a thumbs up and a “Yummy!”   She laughs faintly. “Do you like candy?”   “Yep!” You hold out both hands as if you’re trick-or-treating. “Can I have another one, please?”   Might as well seize the chance while you can. It’s a dog-eat-dog world.    “You have very good manners.” She smiles, taking another out of her endless pouch and dropping it in your hand. Oh man, you’re starting to really like this lady. “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.”   You chew the hard candy in your cheek, crunching down on it. You hope it rots your teeth and makes Edith’s life a living nightmare when she has to deal with it. “Your son?”   Her lips part to speak. But she’s interrupted—   “Mom?”   By sheer coincidence and coincidence itself, a boy with floppy, brown hair turns the corner of the garden. Thin lips, but chubby cheeks and bright eyes of deep mocha. You’ve known him the second your eyes have laid on him. A younger form of the person you fear most.   Taehyung.   You gasp and immediately spin around, hoping he didn’t see you, pretending you didn’t see him.   “I have to go now!”    Before Taehyung’s mom can utter another word, you run away. You don’t notice how Taehyung slows as well, brows furrowed at your receding form.   To see Jungkook is one thing. But to see Taehyung, the one who will use, coerce and lead you to your doom, is another. Jungkook handed down your judgment, but Taehyung is the one who led you there.   He’s the villain.   //   “You did decently,” your mother informs a few days after the whole affair. “We might have to go to the palace more often from now on.”   You nod, unable to dwell in her approval, mind still lost in a daze.    Taehyung — a half prince born a year before Jungkook. He has the blood of a royal with his father as the King, but his mother is merely a palace maid. You remember that he seeks revenge for her death after she’s poisoned by the jealous Queen.   But if she’s still alive, that means it’ll happen soon.   This year.    Springtime.    You’re slowly recalling the details of the event, the catalyst that begins Taehyung’s descent into madness, how he became the game’s villain. But you can’t involve yourself. You just can’t.   You shouldn’t have met any of them in the first place.   You shouldn’t get entangled in their story, in their lives. If you want to live, if you want to survive, you have to avoid Taehyung at all costs. So you can’t. You can’t. Can’t.   A day passes as you focus on your studies.   You can’t.   Another two days goes by, six meals eaten.   Can’t—   On the seventh, your silver spoon clanks noisily against the porcelain bowl, slipping from your grasps, dropping downwards in your deep trance that throbs your temples. Joan turns at the ruckus and you look at her, already standing up.   “I have to go to the castle.”   The guilt eating at you has won its battle.    “Pardon me?”   “Today. Right now.” You rush out of the room and down the hall, determination set in your strides. Maybe you can avoid this. Maybe if you do, he won’t become the game’s villain. Then he won’t be a threat to you, and you won’t be a threat to anyone. You’ll live and so will his mom who’s done nothing wrong.   The maid struggles to catch up to you. “My lady! Please! Wait! What do you mean?”   “I forgot something really important!”   “Y-You can’t just go. My lady! You must ask permission from the Duke and Duchess!”   “There’s no time to.” You’ve never been more serious and somber. There isn’t an inch of mischief, no childish selfishness. Twenty seven years has amounted to this very moment. And you use your status as the Duke’s daughter to command the girl. “Come with me. If the Duke or Duchess gets mad, I’ll take the blame.”   Joan sighs, annoyed as she looks around as if someone else could reason with you. But as you turn to her, looking her dead in the eye, she shifts on her feet and hesitantly calls for a carriage.   You’re in it before you can blink again.   There must be time. There hasn’t been any news yet. No reports of a death in the castle.   You can warn him. You can avoid this tragedy.    “We’re here, my lady,” Joan informs, peering out the window at the enormous stone walls and towers looming high above the clouds. The carriage doors open and she guides you out.    Your feet land onto the cobblestone.    But there isn’t any welcome. No guards that ask what your business here is. No servant passing by.   Instead, there’s chaos in the distance.    Your head whips to the noise and Joan shouts as you dash off towards it. Yet no one notices you in the midst of the pandemonium. No one would pay mind to a small child. You’re left to linger in the open halls, butlers that quickly walk past, maids whispering amongst themselves—   “Did you hear?”   Your head turns towards two girls.   “The King’s mistress just died!”   You came a moment too late.

No one cries.   The arrangement is short and unluxurious, the bare minimum of what would be acceptable for a royal family. A priestess in front drones on impassively about the afterlife, but as you look around, no one grieves. After all, they wouldn’t shed tears for a mere maid.    This is merely a charade to quell away scandalous rumors and to give nobles an excuse to come to the castle and be acknowledged.   You’re overwhelmed in black, a tulle skirt and puffed sleeves. Your parents stand on either side of you, your father in a jacket with the house’s emblem and your mother with a veil covering the right side of her face. Like many others, your family has come for appearance sakes.   But for you, it’s different.   The woman inside the closed casket has shown you a kindness that you so seldom receive.   And because of your hesitation, because of your self-preservation and selfishness, this happened.   Once the burial ceremony is over, your parents mingle amongst the nobles, laughing cordially behind gloved hands as you follow after them and cutesy. It feels like you’re a show pony, brought around to show what the future of the Devereux looks like.   But after a while, you manage to slip away from the scrutiny.    And by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you find him.   At first it’s the noise of heart wrenching sobs. It’s unrestrained wails and choked hiccups in between that attracts your attention. You twist through the familiar hedge corridors and the moment you turn the corner, your eyes lift to a small figure underneath an oak tree.    He sits alone. He cries to himself.    The boy with floppy, brown hair has his knees pulled together. He incessantly rubs at his eyes as if that alone could stop the tears that well and pour. He cries enough for the tens of people at the funeral, substituting their apathy with his anguish. His entire body wracks and the moment he whimpers “m-mom” in-between, it’s shaking to your core.    This is the beginning. The start of his path of destruction.   In this entire castle that stretches across the horizon, only his mother ever loved him. The half-prince. The Forgotten Prince. The one dirtied by regular red blood, not blue enough for the golden crown.   Taehyung mourns, vision blurred by his grief.   But as he rubs his eyes with his small fists, black shoes appear between the gaps of his hands.   He looks up. Your arm is extended in front of him.    Taehyung looks down to your folded, pink handkerchief. He looks stunned for a moment, as if he’s surprised that there was someone here. That someone actually heard him. That someone came.   He takes your handkerchief and sniffles.   “I’m sorry,” you murmur.    Sorry that she passed away, that he has to endure this, that you didn’t save her when you could’ve.   This isn’t just a game you’re playing anymore. All these people aren’t just characters.   You’re living a new life. And all these people have emotions, desires, thoughts of their own.   You’re not sure how you can comfort Taehyung. What you can say to make it better. “Your mother loved you a lot. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be crying so much by yourself.”   He hiccups, snivelling uncontrollably. “B-But if I don’t cry for her, who will?”   You don’t know what to say.   Tears continue to slip down his cheeks and as you linger awkwardly, you decide there isn’t much that you can say. So you sit beside him. You sit underneath the canopy of the tree and branches of rustling leaves, on the soft bed of grass, looking out at the garden.    This is all you can do.   You don’t notice the way Taehyung looks up in-between his mourning, glossy eyes pinpointed on the profile of your face.    The pair of you sit next to one another in the silence of his sniffles until it levels. Until he can breathe again—   “Anastasia!”   There’s a sharp call of your name, one that can only belong to your mother. You immediately come to your feet again as if a dog whistle has been blown. But as you hurry away, you turn over your shoulder. Your eyes connect with Taehyung’s brown ones, and for a moment you slow.   You leave a second later.   You twist down the hedges and turn the corner, nearly bumping straight into her. She looks down at you with her brows furrowed. “Where did you go?”   You smile. “I got lost.”   It’s futile. You know it now.   Trying to avoid the three that will lead you to your demise is like trying to wish you’d suddenly vanish off these lands. You know it won’t be the last time that you see Taehyung. It won’t be the last of Jungkook either. Or whoever the heroine will be. It seems like the more you try to run, the more you inadvertently become involved. But you’ll hold your head up high and face whatever is to come head on.