#I can recall ONCE throughout my entire childhood that I said “I don’t want to do that.” and GUESS WHAT - I DID IT ANYWAY

[nostalgiabones]

The Story of Us // C.H

It feels like SO LONG since I last posted any writing! Here is the second instalment of the Song Series for my last follow milestone (which I announced and then just didn’t write for 2 months😳). I had a moment at 2am where everything fell into place with this fic and I was screaming about it to @calumrose lmao. It’s taken a long time but I’m so happy with how this has turned out and I LOVE the concept of this song so much. I’d love to know what you think!

Song: The Story of Us — Taylor Swift

Word count: 5.1k

Tapping your fingernails on the counter, your eyes search around the busy kitchen for a familiar face – one to ease the anxiety of the first party you’ve attended for longer than you can remember. The kitchen gives you more space to breathe than the garden you fought your way through to get to the house, greeting smiles and quick ‘hellos’ to friends you haven’t seen for a while. There’s one friend in particular you’re expecting to see, yet a part of you doesn’t want to.

“Hey, you made it!”

The voice of a close friend fills your ears over the pounding of the bass from the speaker in the lounge, pumping the whole house (and possibly, the whole street) with music. You can tell Ashton has already taken over the playlist, old classic rock songs being the common theme so far. The counter is already sticky with alcohol. It was one of these parties where you first met Calum – in his true drunk state, he had spilt a drink over your shoes, and spent the remainder of the night trying to make it up to you. He apologised any chance he got, no matter how much you reassured him it was okay and insisted on giving you his number so he could ‘apologise again when he was sober.’ He had done, too, and that’s where it began.

Most Friday nights you’d get a text from him asking you to tag along to whoever’s party was going on, telling you that they weren’t the same without you there. “I need you there as my wingman,” he’d insist, although he had no intention of going home with anyone else. His turn to host rolled around, and that’s when things had changed – the night had ended with you crashing on his spare bed. Everyone else had left and he didn’t see you go, and it wasn’t until Duke had his attention that he had found you – curled up on the bed in his spare room. He thought about waking you up, but decided that he couldn’t bring himself to do it once his gaze fell upon your sleeping face. All he did was remove your shoes, to make you more comfortable, and tuck you in so you didn’t get cold. He had murmured a “good night,” pushing your hair away from your face with a kiss to your forehead.

The next morning, he had found you in his kitchen; Duke keeping you company, curled up in your lap as you wait for Calum to wake up. Waking up in his spare bedroom had been a surprise, yet you didn’t feel entirely uncomfortable. You could’ve left straight away, just leaving a note, but you didn’t. You stayed for breakfast, testing Calum’s cooking skills, and both of you (silently) felt as though you wish it could happen more often.

After that, the texts weren’t just invitations to parties.

They were invitations to get coffee, to take Duke on a hike, to listen to a song he was working on. Any reason he could think of to see you, he would take it, yet he wouldn’t admit to himself why he wanted to see you so often. Your friends knew it; at every party you’d arrive together, dance together, his fingertips would linger on your hips, always touching you somehow. It looked so easy, fun, and free from the outside.

You’re the lucky ones.

Four words both you and Calum had heard time and time again from your friends. They’d see the smiles that grace both yours and his lips at parties when you were together, losing yourselves in the music and each other. Friends would ask where you both stood; what you are, or what you were. Some had called it friends with benefits, most thought you were dating, but whenever you were asked, all you could reply was “I don’t know.” It seemed as though your friends never believed you, but it was the truth — Calum doesn’t like labels.

Calum would take you on unofficial dates; never labelled as such, but something as casual as going to dinner didn’t quite feel the same when he refused to let you pay and you ended up in his bed. Most nights you’d just stay up talking, watching the evening bleed into night as the sun sets and the moon rises. You’d talk about anything from his eclectic taste in music to what the purpose of life is, yet somehow, you never talked about your relationship. Anything but yourselves. The first time he kissed you, it almost felt accidental; his face was just that bit too close to yours for you to not kiss him, his chapped lips brushing yours for a brief moment. His eyes had quickly assessed the expression on your face, wondering whether you were thinking the same thing of what just happened. He had waited a moment before asking “Is it okay if I kiss you again?” and of course… you said yes. You felt something, so did he, but the feelings never translated to words; you never found out what was going on inside his head. And that was the problem.

“I brought you a drink!” You’re snapped out of your thoughts by her voice as she hands you the red cup, filled with whatever had been thrown together in the ice bucket at the other side of the kitchen. You had watched her do the rounds around the room, catching up with everyone else hanging around, and had finally made her way to you. “You know Calum is here, right? Why are you over here all by yourself?”

You hope she didn’t ask him the same question. It’s clear your facial expression gives more away than you intended, and you’re met with a furrowed brow before she continues.

“Did something happen?” She questions, an inquisitive expression on her face as she glances over your shoulder. It’s in that moment you realise he’s there, at the other side of the room, and suddenly it feels like the walls are closing in. She knows Calum well too, but they really are just friends — she can tell something is off with him, too. You allow your eyes to glance to where he’s stood, talking to someone you recognise but whose name you can’t recall. Calum’s eyebrows are furrowed, he looks deep in thought although he’s definitely not paying attention to the conversation that he’s stuck in. “Never mind, don’t answer that. New question, what happened?”

You sigh, taking a sip of the drink she handed you before trying to think of an answer. What did happen? Things have become distant. As much as you enjoy being around Calum, sometimes the uncertainty is too much. He’s a closed book; very difficult to talk to about how he feels, and it leads to you overthinking way too much. Sometimes you just want to sit him down and tell him everything; how even though your relationship is nothing serious, sometimes you wish it could be. You try not to get attached in case he doesn’t think anything of you in the way you wish, sometimes. It’s difficult when he treats you better than any man has before.

“I just haven’t seen him for a while,” You tell her, and it’s not a lie. You haven’t seen him. It doesn’t add up though, not to any of your friends — the two of you would be the life of the party normally. It doesn’t feel the same when you’re at opposite ends of the room.

“Then why aren’t you over there catching up?” She asks, and you know you can’t hide it anymore. She can see it in your eyes. It’s rare that you’re not joined at the hip in any social situation; your friends didn’t know too much about you and Calum in private, yet you know she won’t be the only one to notice the distance between the two of you. They don’t know about the ‘dates’ or about the times where you’ve called him crying after a bad day. They don’t know about the kisses, how he holds you in the dark of the night, or how you know more about him than anyone you’ve ever met. They don’t know about you and Calum.

You pause for a minute before answering her.

“Nothing happened between us,” You sigh, your nails anxiously tapping against the plastic cup in your hand. “That’s the problem.”

You watch as Calum laughs at a joke a friend has made. It’s not his true laugh though – where his eyes crinkle and his nose twitches, where he looks as though his cheeks could burst from how hard he’s smiling. That’s a laugh reserved for you, when you tell him a silly childhood story at 3:00am. There are many parts of Calum which only you get to see. You notice his hair has grown out compared to when you saw him last. The blonde is hardly there now, just specs throughout the ends of the dark curls. Your heart thuds in your chest as you look at him – he’s right there, yet he feels a million miles away, like there’s a wall in the middle of the room preventing you from getting any closer. It’s even further to reach his heart.

Calum is a closed book, but the pages you have read, you remember.

You know his feelings on a lot of things. You know he loves his family more than anything in the world, that he eventually wants to grow old in Australia near the beach, and that his purpose in this lifetime is to make music for people to fall in love with. He cares deeply about those around him, he shows his love through affection, he calls Duke his soulmate. He loves to cook for those close to him and has a list of recipes in his phone of meals he wants to make for his mum. He once spent a whole night telling you how his sister is one of his biggest inspirations. Playing shows and meeting those who support him makes him feel alive. You know a lot about Calum... except for how he feels about you.

“You should talk to him,” She suggests, a gentle touch on your arm to get your attention. It sounds like such a simple thing to do – just talk to him! Just tell him how you feel!However, Calum is so guarded, that the thought of the feeling not being reciprocated looms over you too much to think about doing it. You wouldn’t even know where to begin, months’ worth of emotions and frustrations to work through. It would only work if Calum were willing to talk to. And you’re not sure he is. “You’re not going to have fun until you do, and neither will he. It’s not like you to be so quiet.”

You cross your arms and bite the inside of your lip – two signs that Calum would recognise as anxiety if he looked in your direction.

“Calum doesn’t know how to talk about us.” You retort, a defeated tone to your voice before you even think about talking to him. Although, you have to admit, it wouldn’t be fair to blame to Calum alone. How could a situation be so simple yet so complex at the same time? No-one had ever made you feel as free as he does; so comfortable with the space to be yourself no matter what. He never judged you. Night by night he broke your walls down; learning more each time about your family, about what lead to you to Los Angeles, about your deepest ambitions. Although whenever you went longer than usual without seeing each other, it made you want to be guarded again, unable to shake the anxiety that comes along with sharing your deepest secrets with someone. All of it in turn had led to weeks, nearly a month of no communicating, and you’d be lying if you said there’s nothing you want more than to fall asleep in his arms once more.

“You should try.” She tells you once more, and you know she’s right. “Trust me.”

She excuses herself to go catch up with someone else, and your eyes can’t help but land on Calum at the other side of the room. He looks more comfortable now, but you notice Luke to his right, and realise that’s probably why. There are so many people around, yet you’ve never felt so alone, like an alien in the group. Calum made you feel everything but alone, especially at a party, he’d never leave your side. You never had the chance to feel lonely. Yet in this moment, it’s all you can think about. You wonder if he feels as alone as you do.

Your fingertips fall to the corner of your jacket, nervously fumbling with the material, needing something to ground you whilst trying to think of something other than Calum. You don’t get very long to do so before your phone offers a distraction; a text lighting up the screen, the contact name of ‘Cal’ making your stomach drop.

Meet me upstairs in 5? Spare room at the back.

You can’t help but sigh at the words, your eyes locked on the screen; too scared to look up in case he’s watching your reaction. It feels so impersonal. Why didn’t he just come and talk to you?

Downing the rest of your drink, you head to grab another one, knowing you’ll need it if you’re going to talk to him. What does he want to talk about? What are you meant to say? The questions are a constant dialogue in your mind, occupying the space, leaving room for little else. Glancing around the room, you note that Calum is no longer there, and that he must’ve gone upstairs to wait for you. It feels like you’re floating as you head up the stairs. Not in a happy way, more due to nerves – the adrenaline and anxiety flooding your veins as your fingers grasp the handrail leading to the upper floor of the house. There’s three bedrooms that you can see; one to each side, and one straight ahead at the back of the house. The door is ajar, and you just know Calum is sat on the bed waiting for you.

Your knuckles gently tap the wooden door and you hear Calum clear his throat; your heart races, and when you push the door open, it’s hard to look at him. Having him there, right in front of you, is almost too much to process and it suddenly feels like there’s no air in the room.

Calum’s eyes follow you as you join him at the end of the bed, not too close to him, yet close enough that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted to. No words are said – you stare at your boots, clearing your throat and waiting for Calum to speak first. You’re both too stubborn.

“Why are you so nervous?” Calum breaks the silence – his voice is deeper than you remember. It’s quiet, yet loud enough that you can hear him over the sound of the music and people talking and singing downstairs. His hands rest on either side of him, fingertips pressed into the duvet as he turns to look at you. It makes his heart ache a little that you’re avoiding his gaze, and he knows you’re uncomfortable. “It’s just me.”

Just him.

“You know you make me nervous,” You retort, a sarcastic yet innocent twinge to your voice as you reply. You know he knows that. It’s something the two of you joked about from the beginning – saying it’s the reason you never spoke to him before the shoe incident. He’s a mysterious person, intriguing; a tough person to get through to, especially when you don’t know him. “Especially when we haven’t talked in a while.”

He nods, a smirk on his lips, but there’s nothing about the situation he finds funny. He’s missed you a lot, and now you’re in the same room together, with no choice but to talk – he realises how much distance there is between you both. Silence has never been so loud before. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to tell you how much he’s missed you. He’s not one to be openly expressive with his emotions, he usually does it through gestures or shows of affection – yet he hasn’t had the chance to show that side of him with you.

“What have you been up to?” He asks, trying to make you feel less uneasy around him before he asks anything more cutting. That was one thing you always admired about Calum – his warmth, his ability to put people at ease by holding conversation. He’s a social butterfly, he loves getting to meet people when he’s out. He has his quiet moments at home when he has time to think. He shifts uncomfortably on the bed as he murmurs a quieter, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

The last few words catch you off guard and now it’s your turn to look at him, his eyes cast towards the ground and his jaw clenched. His eyebrows are furrowed, and you know there’s a million thoughts swirling around his head. Is that Calum admitting some feelings towards you?

“I’ve just been working, really. I went home for a little while, like I told you about,” You reply, remembering back to the last night you spent with Calum, just after you booked your tickets home. Although what you don’t tell him is that most of the time, you couldn’t stop thinking about him being there with you. “How was Europe?”

You had plans to go home, Calum had the rest of his year planned out for him – he had been with the band in Europe and the UK for a little while, and you kept up with his travels on Instagram. Calum had been thinking about you too. He knows how badly you want to travel; that being one of the ambitions you had admitted to him, and he wants to fulfil it. With every cold hotel bed that he slept him, he wanted you to keep him warm. Exploring a city wasn’t quite the same on his own.

“It was different,” He answers, and you’re not sure what he means by that. You wait for him to expand on what ‘different’ entails, yet he doesn’t. Different means unsettled; it means that he didn’t get chance to say goodbye to you before he left, and it didn’t sit right with him. He saw you viewing his Instagram stories, he started to post them just to see if you’d keep watching. You did.

And the room is silent all over again. It is for several moments, until you speak up again.

“Why did you ask me to come up here?” You prod, wanting to cut the small talk. As nice as it is to catch up, there’s a weight on your chest – one that won’t be relieved until something gives with Calum. You don’t want to fight, but there’s things that need to be said. “I didn’t have you down as a ‘texting from the same room’ kinda guy. You could’ve just come and talked to me.”

Calum huffs a laugh, a hand lifting to run through the thick curls upon his head. A tell-tale sign of his own anxiety. He doesn’t say anything, though.

“Now who’s the nervous one?” You continue, raising your eyebrows, knowing you have the upper hand. “What, is the thought of talking about your feelings making you uncomfortable? What else is new?”

He sighs, sitting for a moment, thinking of what to respond. Now you’re more comfortable, he knows there’s no holding back. It’s not going to be an easy conversation.

“First of all, I couldn’t just come up and talk to you. There were too many eyes on us, my friends already noticed we weren’t talking. I know yours did too,” He tells you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. He has so many walls up and trying to break them down is exhausting.

“I miss you holding me as tightly as you’re holding your pride right now,” You murmur, picking at your nails, avoiding his gaze as you speak the words. Now Calum is the one caught off guard. “I want to know how you’re feeling, Calum. I need to know whether this is killing you as much as it’s killing me.”

For a moment Calum thinks he hears your voice catching in his throat and it goes straight to his heart like a dagger, his head snapping up to look at you. He never wanted any of this to happen – he didn’t mean to hurt you. The lack of communication between you both is astounding to him, now that he thinks about it; the lack of boundaries – the line between friendship and more somewhat blurred. The whole thing seems blurry now, and he’s not sure how to provide the clarity he knows you’re looking for.

“I don’t know what to say.” He admits, truly at a loss for words. There’s so much to say, yet so little. Where does he begin? He hears your sharp intake of breath and he knows you’re frustrated – barely getting more than one sentence out of him at a time.

“Calum, I’m so tired of having to pretend like I don’t care about whatever this is. Right now, it feels like we’re competing to see who cares less. I want to know how you feel about me, about us.” It’s like something is awoken in you. If this is the last conversation you have with him, you want to know it all; whether the nights of sleeping next to him meant as much to him as they did to you. “No more holding back.”

Calum clicks his tongue before he nods, inhaling through his nose, placing one hand on the bed so he can put his weight on it to look right at you. “Alright.”

“Tell me,” Your tone is slightly softer now that he’s agreed. As frustrating as it can be at times, you know it’s not an easy thing for Calum. You know he cares. He just needs to show it. “I’m listening.”

“You want to know what I think about when I look at you?” Calum starts, looking right at you – you’re drawn in by his stare. It’s a lot. Taking a deep breath, you prepare for whatever he’s going to say, and nod in a gesture for him to continue. “I think about the night of my party when I found you on the spare bed. How, for some reason, you were comfortable enough to fall asleep at my house, when we weren’t even that close then. How when I tucked you into bed, you just looked so peaceful. You worry too much when you’re awake.”

You felt free around Calum, yet you didn’t at the same time. You could be yourself, he wanted to know everything about you – yet without the labels of a relationship, you held back from showing too much. There were times Calum wanted to kiss you, and when you wanted to kiss him, but you didn’t. Friends don’t just do that. The more he got to know you, the more he wanted to know, but the more he felt like holding back. He realises a lot of things could be solved if you had just talked a little earlier.

“And then I remember the morning after, when I woke up and Duke wasn’t in my bed, so I knew something was different. How I found you sat in my kitchen with him – that you didn’t leave before I woke up. It just felt so normal, I couldn’t shake it off all day, after you left...” He continues, like he’s letting his mind get away with him. He’s barely said anything, yet it’s the most you’ve heard about how he feels about you. “I didn’t want you to leave. I didn’t realise that until you had gone.”

Calum notices the little things. There are countless moments in his mind that he wishes he could live all over again – a lot of the firsts with you. He wishes he would’ve appreciated them more in the moment.

“And then I think about the first time we kissed. I didn’t think it was going to happen then, I don’t think either of us meant for it to. We have a lot of firsts... the first time I saw you cry, after that fight with your parents, when you called me before anyone else. I like that you rely on me, sometimes, it says a lot about how you feel.” He explains, and it’s so much to take in. “I guess I looked for your feelings in your actions, rather than just asking you. Things would probably be different now if we had just communicated with each other.”

You nod, and know it’s not just Calum to blame. Your communication was just as lack lustre as his. Calum read into your body language and actions a lot – he’d notice when you’d hug him tighter just for a moment longer, or when you’d bring him his usual coffee order, after stopping off to get one for yourself. Calum notices the little things, and they mean a lot.

“What about you?” He asks, and you should’ve expected it. “Tell me how you feel.”

Every moment that passes feels like a lifetime; you’re both taking the time to think.

“I liked it better when you were on my side,” You murmur with a small smile, allowing yourself to think of when things were how they used to be. Nothing has really felt the same since. You decide it’s time to lay everything out, to say everything you’ve wanted him to know for the past few months – at least then, if anything, you don’t leave with any regrets. Calum nods at the words, knowing he’d rather go back to the good times too. “I miss sleeping in your bed. I don’t feel like I’ve talked to anyone in so long. I didn’t realise how much we shared with each other until I didn’t speak to you for a while. Now that we’re here talking… it kinda feels like I can breathe again.”

As wonderful as things could be with Calum, it wasn’t always easy. As soon as you left his house, you’d be thinking the time you spent together over and over, questioning the little things; whether he meant to rest his hand on your thigh whilst you watched a movie, or whether he knows exactly how you like your drinks. It consumed you sometimes, leaving your head spinning and heart aching. It hurt him too, sometimes, when he’d drive you home with Duke in the backseat and wait until he saw you make it safely inside. Duke would jump up at the window, as if to wonder where you had gone, and he’d murmur a “I know how you feel, buddy.”

You’re both caught up in your thoughts, and Calum doesn’t have time to say anything else before you set the record straight.

“I don’t want to hold back anymore, Cal. Not if you want it too. I’m either all in, or all out. I don’t want to be stuck in the middle where I don’t know where I stand. I can’t do it again.” Your voice cracks as you speak, and Calum almost breaks on the spot; he doesn’t want to be the cause of your tears. Not ever. He scoots across the bed a little and reaches out; warm, calloused fingers gently picking your own hand up and fitting it in his own. His fingers link with yours and he gently squeezes, trying to get you to look at him.

“Please don’t cry, love,” He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. He doesn’t know why you’re emotional, whether it’s because you’re still unsure of where he stands, the relief of talking everything through, or something else.

Commitment isn’t something that comes natural to Calum. He’s passionate about a lot of things; when he cares about something, he gives it his all, but his heart is guarded. It terrifies him to have to be vulnerable, but he knows that if he doesn’t let you in, he’ll regret it forever. In reality, he’s already let you in… He just has to admit to himself.

“I’m all in. You have my word, and my heart. No more going back and forth, okay? I want it all. You’ve got me.” He reassures you, his free hand resting on top of your joint ones, thumb stroking back and forth over the top of your palm. You nod and swallow the lump in your throat, relief coursing through your veins at the reassurance from his words. It feels like everything is lifted from your shoulders, like you can breathe once more.

“You have me, too. I want to be with you, I want you, but we have to learn how to talk to each other,” You tell him, knowing communication is going to be the crucial difference between before and now. It’s not going to work without. “I know it’s not easy, but we have to try.”

Calum moves closer and almost pulls you into his lap, one arm going around your shoulders to pull you close to him. You’re flooded with warmth and the familiar scent of a combination of his washing powder and his cologne, one that still lingers on your bedsheets months after he last slept there, one that you’ve missed. One that is just simply Calum. You bury your face against his neck and his free hand lands on your thigh, a comforting gesture; he just wants to be as close as possible.

His hand moves from your thigh and his fingertips gently take your chin, tilting your face so you’re looking right at him. His pointer finger traces your cheekbone, down your cheek, under your bottom lip as he breathes you in.

“No more holding back,” He murmurs, his chapped lips brushing yours, a feeling of relief crashing over the two of you and your mouths get acquainted once more. It’s been too long, Calum decides, as he pulls back for a moment and his lips are right back on yours again. It’s mere seconds before he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth and it’s a sensation you’ve missed; he tastes of alcohol as he kisses you and you commit the feeling to memory. The tips of your noses nudge together as the kiss goes on and you never want it to end; it’s the start of a new era, a new beginning to your relationship now that you can call it that. The kiss is urgent and desperate, and it says everything unspoken – there’s a long way to go, but it feels like a good start. “Can I take you home?”

“Please.”

Next chapter.

***

If you’ve made it this far — thank you so so much for reading! I’d love to know what you think, and if you have any requests for songs I could write about — please let me know! 🥰

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[theshipsfirstmate]

Black Widow Fic: No Time Left to Start Again

Post-BW, between the end and the post-credits. Yelena Belova faces life after The Snap.

No Time Left to Start Again (AO3 - wc: 4983)

She looks down to see her hands disintegrating -- fingers floating away like the wispy tufts of the dandelions that grew in their front yard in Ohio -- and Yelena thinks, Is this a cool way to die?

The question is still on her mind when she comes to, even though she’ll find out later that five years have passed since she started wondering. 

She puts the pieces together as fast as she can, even though each one only makes the picture more grim. She learns she was lucky to be in the Widows’ safe house in Istanbul when it happened, even if the rancid smell of the rotted fridge makes her gag and there’s a hole in the ceiling and straight through the floor from a bathtub left running. 

She learns that the best estimates say it was half of the population that floated away with her that day, and has now returned just as abruptly. The world wasn't ready for them to go, and it is even less prepared for them to return. Cities are plunged into chaos in an instant, governments and aid organizations just starting to steady themselves after half a decade of desolation get the rug pulled out from them once again.

She learns that her phone still works, even if internet service is shit, thanks to dwindling maintenance and overloaded servers. She learns that the Avengers are fighting a war for the fate of the universe (again), somewhere in upstate New York. And she learns, quickly, where she needs to go next.

“Малышка.”

Melina greets her at the gate with an unexpected softness -- so different than the last time -- and Yelena wonders if the woman has simply spent the last five years alone with her pigs, if they've felt any different than the twenty before. Then, Alexi steps out the door behind her, and she realizes that they have. 

“So, neither of you…” Yelena starts to ask as they let her in, though she doesn't really have to. She can see the years on them both, and for a moment, she's a child with a family once again.

My mother is going grey at her temples. My father's glasses are thicker than they used to be. 

They both have deeper crinkles at the corners of their eyes and Yelena finds herself hoping that it’s laughter that’s left them there.

“For five years we've been on our own,” Alexi answers, but he can't help himself a little smirk before he continues, “and moss grows fat on a rolling stone.”

He doesn't smell so bad this time, when he wraps her in a bear hug. Mercifully, he's shaved and taken to civilian clothes -- she decides to keep to herself how much she dislikes his new handlebar mustache.

“You did?” Melina guesses, and Yelena nods her agreement into Alexi’s chest before he relents and lets her go.

When she turns back to face the question, she finds herself on the receiving end of a look that feels equal parts discerning and maternal. That too, she remembers from her childhood.

“Are you alright?”

“I seem to be,” Yelena answers, gesturing down to her hands, tangible once more. There won't be an answer that satisfies the woman scientifically, she’ll have to be proof enough. “I don't remember any of it.”

What she truly doesn't expect from Melina is a hug, and it's even more surprising when it’s fiercer and longer than Alexi’s. A beat too long, Yelena realizes slowly. Alexi turns away when she tries to meet his eye, and her stomach turns over with dread.

Something else has happened. Something she doesn't know yet. Something worse.

“The report came over my comms just an hour or so before you got here,” Melina says softly, an arm reaching up to stroke the back of Yelena’s head, just like she did when she was a toddler. “It's over. The Avengers have won.”

There's the sound of splintering wood and both women step back sharply, turning to see Alexi clutching a handful of splinters that used to be the back of a dining room chair. He drops them to the ground and strides back out the door, pointedly not looking at either of them, and Yelena tastes bile in the back of her mouth. 

“What else?” She tries and fails to stop herself from asking the question. It comes out on a choked kind of half-breath.

“Tony Stark is dead.” Melina answers, dropping her eyes, an uncharacteristic waver in her voice. “And it's been... harder to confirm, but we are almost certain that Natasha is too.”

In the Red Room, after the treatments, there would be a buzzing in your ears for days, like static from an old radio. Widows in training were known to be disciplined after missing commands, and would do their best to shake it off as quickly as possible, but Yelena sometimes welcomed the fuzzy silences, the chance to try and focus inward, no matter how painful.

This is nothing like that.

This is a heartbreak in a cry, a desperate, wailing sound that builds and builds, cutting through the quiet isolation of the farm compound like a knife. It's only when it gets muffled by Melina wrapping her up in her arms once more, that Yelena realizes she's the one making it.

“Малышка,” her mother whispers again -- my baby -- and Yelena can’t tell if it’s meant for her or not.

They sit around the table again that night, but dinner consists only of vodka and memories and they all try -- and fail -- not to notice the empty chair closest to the windows, the one with the broken back. 

“Oh, I hated that blue hair!” Melina admits with a watery chuckle, paging through the photo album when their second bottle is nearly gone. “But she was so good at getting what she wanted.”

“You know, I begged her to dye mine too,” Yelena shares, recalling a long-forgotten memory that means something completely different now. “She said no, that she wouldn't let me be spoiled.”

Alexi interrupts the reverie before she goes too deep, laughter overtaking him as he pokes at Melina’s arm. “I remember the night she did it. You came to bed and you were so fed up, you cried! She made you cry!”

“And I punched you for laughing at me, do you remember that too?” Melina fires back, swatting his hand away.

When she was old enough to realize what had happened to her as a child, Yelena remembers scouring her memories for real moments, signs of genuine affection between the family she hadn’t known enough to question. It was difficult then, to believe any of it had been real. But sometimes now, it's not so hard.

“The only reason I was glad we left when we did, was because I knew I could never have handled her as a teenager,” Melina muses then, but there's little humor left in her voice. Yelena wonders if her face darkens in the same way as her mother’s when they think of that day on the airstrip.

It's quiet for a long moment, but Alexi never stops looking at Melina. Yelena's head is heavy from liquor and tears and she rests it on folded arms as she watches them. (Sometimes, it's not so hard to believe.)

“You didn't want to go,” her father says, low and mournful. “I should have listened.”

“You followed the orders,” her mother answers. “What was the alternative? They would have killed us and taken the girls back if we had made even one misstep.”

None of them had a way out, Yelena thinks, they never had. A super soldier and a Widow, weapons both, with daughters destined to follow in their footsteps. Maybe that's still true. Maybe there is no peace when all you've ever known is war.

But they'd had each other.

“It was real,” she murmurs, as her eyes drift closed. “Natasha said it was real.”

-----

A public memorial for Tony Stark is held on the National Mall. Steve Rogers is consecrated at the Smithsonian, again. But no one seems to know quite what to do about Natasha Romanov. The Black Widow, the female Avenger, the Russian-born assassin, only claimed by America, it seemed, when they wanted to accuse her of treason.

Still, Yelena flies to Washington DC, half-curious and half-desperate to burn off the fog she’s been wandering around in since Melina’s suspicions had been confirmed. 

Captain America, the new one, had announced the events on a world-wide broadcast -- making a point to mention Natasha by name, Yelena had noticed -- and so she heads to the museum first, though she's not entirely sure what she hopes to learn. The Avengers have saved the world several times over, but those conflicts are usually reduced to heroic platitudes when it comes to the public, and she expects this to be no different.

She's mostly right, but the exhibit is worth it for a few glimpses of Natasha fighting alongside the Captain, scattered throughout the pictures and video of the Avengers’ years together. That's how she finds herself in a darkened theater, watching a compilation of newsreel footage, broadcasts and shaky cell phone shots, the valiant timeline of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

She feels him sit down beside her, catches the glint of metal in the sleeve of his leather jacket before she can even clock his face. Her nerves are instinctively on edge, but if he came for combat, they’d already be in it, so she stays still and quiet, waiting to follow his lead.

“ты сестра?” he asks softly. You're the sister?

Yelena turns to face him, the question and answer on her lips. But the Winter Soldier speaks again before she does.

“She showed me the pictures once. From when you were kids.”

Yelena couldn't count them if she tried, the nights she spent in the Red Room, rubbing a finger along the torn seam of her photo strip, willing the thought that Natasha was out there somewhere, holding the other half, to be enough to comfort her enough to sleep.

She turns away before he can see the tears in her eyes, but it’s no use -- they’re there in her throat when she speaks.

“They didn't even know her.” She nods back to the crowded museum and hopes he can grasp her meaning. There’s no way Natasha can be properly memorialized by government officials, who knew her as little more than a recon file, or the adoring public, who only thought of her when the world was ending.

“She liked it that way.” He means it as a comfort, but still, it makes Yelena flinch.

He notices, and she knows he understands when he tries again. “They were never gonna do her justice.”

The world never would, never could, Yelena thinks. A spy. A sister. A survivor. A lost girl, who fought her whole life for the kind of peace she’d never allow herself. These are not the people who get parades in their honor, holidays in their name. 

“I will,” she says, and the stubborn tears win their battle, spilling down her cheeks. “I will do her justice.”

The Winter Soldier nods, with as much of a smile as he seems to allow himself. “I hope you will.”

Then he's gone, back the way he came, and Yelena thinks it's time to leave this city, with its buttoned-up bureaucracy and privatized secrets.

She doesn't care much about the Stark memorial, but skirts around the periphery on her way back to the airfield, catching a glimpse of the enormous photos and expensive-looking displays.

Natasha’s in these too, off to the side or just out of focus. It's starting to wear on her, the way these people seem to barely even notice the Black Widow, how quick they are to disregard one of their greatest heroes because she didn't fly or transform or wield some mystical weapon.

Shouldn’t that have made her even more impressive?

She's standing in front of a tribute to the Battle of New York just beside the bridge, weighing that unanswerable question, hands clenched unconsciously to fists, when Valentina finds her.

“I've been looking for you.” It sounds more like a taunt. I found you.

Yelena scoffs. “Probably a bad idea, if you know anything about me.”

“Oh, babe, believe me. I know plenty,” the woman answers, offering up that ridiculous name, a business card and a tone that's too familiar for Yelena's liking.

She's not to be trusted. That would be clear even to the Red Room’s youngest and most naive recruit. But it's this gleeful performance of espionage, or maybe villainy, that keeps Yelena from writing her off entirely. From the outfit to the attitude, she's either insane or untouchable. Or both.

And then: “So I have some… let's call it interesting information about your sister.”

Yelena clenches her fists tighter, digging her fingernails into her palm. “I don't believe you.”

Valentina seems to anticipate this, and is already reaching into her bag at the answer. She pulls out a thin, soft-bound book, printed with colorful block lettering: Parkside Elementary School, ‘95-’96.

Instantly, Yelena feels like someone's tightening a vice around her ribcage. “No.”

The woman shrugs, with that haughty grin she's already starting to loathe. “See for yourself.” 

She flips it open, turning only a few pages to find the first grade classes, and there she is. Six years old. An innocent smile on her face and a fake last name beneath her picture. Orange juice spots on the collar of her shirt -- Melina had scolded her when they brought the photos home. 

“How did you get this?” Even if it's a fake, it was done by someone who knows far too much.

“Well, you don't trust me, so I won't bother telling you,” Valentina snaps, taking the book back before she can look for Natasha. “Let’s call it proof that I know a lot of people who have been keeping a lot of secrets.”

Yelena tries to look unimpressed, dropping her shaking hands to her sides when she realizes they're giving her away. “You and me both.” 

“Ha! No kidding,” Valentina replies. It's not actually a laugh. “That's exactly why we're gonna work so well together.”

Maybe it's the grief clouding her judgement or residual conditioning left over in her frontal lobe. Maybe it's the unspoken threat to the rest of her family. Or maybe she was just born for this -- a soldier like her father, an assassin like her mother. Whatever it is, Yelena can feel herself agreeing to Valentina’s “offer” before she's even made it explicit.

“We'll start you out small,” the woman assures, but she knows better than to be comforted. “How do you feel about some light arson? There’s some documents and hard drives at a warehouse in Bethesda that need disappearing.”

“Fine,” Yelena answers, ears already buzzing, as a small voice in her head sings along. Fire is the devil's only friend.

-----

When the money from her first job comes in, she buys an old Chevy C/K and drives to Akron, with a useless hope to disappear again. She's lucky enough to find a modest apartment with a kind neighbor who's always happy to dogsit, which becomes a blessing -- Valentina’s demands only increase as the corners of her fake smile tighten. 

But it's enough. Enough that when Yelena thinks about home, she can once again think of Ohio.

Not long after, Alexi and Melina keep a promise she’d asked them to make, and return for a few days. She picks them up at the airfield, and drives to the spot she and Fanny found on one of their long walks together -- under the trees that are just starting to blossom with pink flowers.

Alexi lifts the heavy gravestone from the back of the truck and places it at the end of a row, under a tree, where the ground can't be dug up anyway. 

“Toughest girls in the world,” Yelena hears him murmur as he runs his hand over the inscription.

Melina hasn't spoken much since they landed. Yelena thought at first that she didn't want to come back, but when she closes her eyes and takes in a deep, shuddering breath as they stand facing the grave marker, she understands that it isn't that at all.

“Big girl,” her mother begins with an uncharacteristic, watery softness, and Yelena is transported back to another lifetime once again. “I’m so sorry...”

There might be more to say, but the long, mournful silence is broken by the sound of another car pulling up. All three of them go on alert, until Yelena spots a familiar flash of metal from the driver's side.

“не волнуйся,” she says, still stepping defensively in front of her mother. “It’s OK.”

The Winter Soldier -- Sergeant Barnes, she reminds herself -- parks and exits quickly, moving to the rear of the car to help an elderly man step out and straighten himself.

He isn't what Yelena expected, but once he's at full posture, it's impossible not to recognize him. He's the man from the news, the internet, all the posters — give or take a few decades.

“Captain America.” Under normal circumstances, she might chuckle at Alexi’s awed whisper.

“Forgive us for interrupting,” the Captain says by way of a greeting. He sounds like him, too, so it must be true. “And, in advance, for not explaining. I just… I thought both of her families should be here.”

“If that's OK,” Barnes adds with a look, first at Captain Rogers, then back at the family.

Yelena nods her acceptance, but feels her heart sink a little when Melina turns back silently to face the gravestone. Only Alexi steps forward, extending his arm, first to the captain, then to his comrade.

“Alexi Shostakov,” he offers. “You probably don’t…”

“The Red Guardian,” Captain Rogers interrupts, and Yelena tries not to let her eyes go wide as they shake hands proudly. “The Soviet super soldier. Of course I know who you are.”

Alexi puffs his chest up for just a moment, and gives himself a pleased nod, before returning to Melina’s side. It's proof of his grief, Yelena thinks, that that's the end of it.

Then it's her turn. “You must be Yelena.”

“Captain.” She nods once and then twice, looking past him. “Sergeant.”

“Buck mentioned you two had run into each other in Washington,” the older man says with a well-worn, knowing smile.

“I would say we're glad to have you,” she offers as a reply, “but now I'm mostly worried that I'm not covering my tracks as well as I should.”

“Don't worry about that,” Captain Rogers replies, with a shake of his head. “I had to call in multiple favors to find you. Big ones, too.”

“Well then,” she sighs, “I guess I should say I'm sorry you went through all that trouble.”

Another small smile, and then the captain steps closer, lowering his voice almost conspiratorially. It strikes her that, while he's likely still one of the most powerful men in the universe, there's nothing about him that feels threatening to her.

“I don't know if you've noticed,” he tells her, “but I'm getting up there in years. Why don't you save us both a lot of time from now on, and only bother saying what you mean.”

He means it as a kindness, Yelena can tell, but there's only one question she wants to ask, and it's screaming in her mind like a klaxon horn.

“Will you...” she begins, stopping to swallow when her throat turns to sandpaper. “Will you tell us what happened?”

“Yelena,” Melina says sharply, and she almost takes it back. But she knows the curiosity will eat her from the inside out if she doesn't take the chance now, when it's literally right in front of her.

“No, I want to know,” she tells her mother before turning back and steeling herself once again. “I want the truth.”

Captain Rogers purses his lips and tilts his head, like he's seeing something different in her now.

“You really are her sister, aren't you?” he muses.

She scoffs, almost reflexively. “There's no family resemblance, if that's what you mean.”

“Isn't there?” She hears Alexi chuckle softly behind her and makes a mental note to elbow him in the ribs later. One super soldier at a time.

“Please,” she asks again, and the twinkle leaves Captain Rogers' eye as he nods solemnly.

“Natasha sacrificed herself to retrieve the last of the Infinity Stones.” Yelena only understands part of that sentence, and she's not sure if it's the important part.

“The stones were the key to bringing everyone back, to defeating Thanos once and for all,” he explains. “We made a plan, as a team. We each had our assignments, but we didn't know the cost.”

The cost, it's evident now, had been Natasha, and it grates again at Yelena that all the other Avengers had returned from this mission for their final battle, while her sister’s sacrifice had merely been part of the unknowable set up. 

But Captain Rogers continues, and she finds consolation in the fact that at least he doesn't take Natasha's death lightly, not in the slightest. 

“I went back, after,” he reveals, sounding close to tears. “I tried-- I tried like hell to get her back. I never should have let her go.”

“You wouldn't have been able to stop her.” Melina’s voice comes out of nowhere; even she seems surprised to have spoken. But they all nod at the truth.

“Clint said he-- she wouldn't let him go in her place,” Rogers adds. He’s turning something over in his hands, but when Yelena looks closer, it seems to be just a simple pack of bubble gum. “She was just too…”

His eyes, cast towards the sky, return to their group, and he speaks first to Alexi, and then to Melina. Yelena reaches out for her mother's hand, and it's taken with a fierce squeeze.

“I'm not sure I ever really understood her until now,” the Captain says. “I thought her strength, her heart, who she was, was in spite of what she'd been through. But I know now, it was because of it.”

Yelena’s eyes have blurred with tears, but she can see him turn to her next. “We fought that war for her,” he adds. “And I think she fought it for you.”

It's the eulogy Natasha deserves, the one none of them could have hoped to give, and it feels both fitting and unfathomable that it comes from Captain America, of all people.

They sit in it for a moment, each thinking of Natasha in their own way, until the silence is broken by two people speaking in unison -- perhaps the two that understood her best.

“She would have hated this,” Yelena mumbles, only realizing after a moment that Barnes had said the same thing.

A reserved chuckle rumbles through the five of them, and then a deep, forgiving breath. It’s time to go. 

But Yelena drops Melina’s hand as the rest of them turn back for the road, suddenly unable to move. She can’t pull her eyes away from the grave, stuck staring at a legacy that makes her feel six years old again, a metaphorical pair of shoes she'll never be able to fill.

When she doesn't hear either car start, she expects maybe Captain Rogers or Alexi, but surprisingly, it's Barnes who returns to her side.

“I haven't… I didn't make a speech or anything,” she admits, gesturing at the stone with her sister’s name and titles, and willing him, once again, to understand the feelings she can’t put into words. “I don't know what to say to her.”

He's quiet for a moment, and when he speaks it's lower than she’s expecting, like he’s drawing the words from somewhere deep. “Nat never shared much with us,” he tells her. “I understood that. It's hard to talk about memories you don't think you deserve to miss.”

Yelena knows she’s felt that too, that kind of arrested nostalgia. And she’s seen it in the Widows she recovered before the snap. It's not a surprise that the Winter Soldier could understand it as well -- what it’s like to be freed from a prison in your own mind, but constantly aware of how easily that door could slam closed on you once again.

“She wouldn't care what you say here,” he continues. “She would care what you do out there.”

Suddenly, Yelena wonders if his heightened senses include a bullshit detector, if he can somehow see the marionette strings Valentina has looped around her conscience.

“I might have lied to you when we met,” she admits, telling him as much of the truth as she can muster. “I'm not sure I know how to do her justice.”

“I think you do,” he answers. “Even if it’s hard. Even if it takes a while.”

She turns to face him, and he’s staring at the gravestone like he can see something more than the paltry words they had paid someone to carve in Natasha’s memory.

“Nat was haunted by the red in her ledger, but she also thought it was what made her a good Avenger. She thought it made her fearless, unbreakable.” Yelena looks down and watches the metal of Barnes’ bionic hand curl into a fist, and then release. “But I'll take a wild guess that she was fearless before that, wasn't she?”

Through the years of mind control and conditioning, Yelena has never forgotten the feeling of Natasha’s arm wrapped around her back on that airstrip in Cuba, screaming and threatening men twice her size to try and keep them both safe.

“You may not know what to do now. You might feel like the things you've done, or the things you want to do, have set your future in stone,” Barnes continues, cutting through the haze of her memories.

“But there's gonna be a moment, maybe in the future, maybe soon, when you're faced with a choice. And in that moment, if you choose to be the person she thought you could be, that'll do her justice.”

Yelena looks up and Barnes’ eyes are there to meet now. Whatever he knows, it’s enough. 

“Thank you for coming,” she tells him. “Truly. And thank you for bringing the Captain.”

“Couldn't keep him away,” the man admits, with his little half-smile. “The two of them...I think that was as close as they let themselves get to anybody. I know he’ll always blame himself, but I hope this helped.” 

Yelena nods her goodbye, thinking idly, mournfully, about the way Natasha never gave any thought to her future -- wondering if that’s something she and her teammates had shared. But as Barnes returns to his car, the back window rolls down and Captain Rogers flags her down with something dark and folded in his hand.

“I found this with her things on the quinjet,” he says as she approaches the window, and her throat is tightening with new tears before he can finish, before she can even reach out to touch the familiar fabric. “Thought maybe you might want it. It’s pretty nice, it’s got a lot of pockets.”

-----

When she returns Melina and Alexi to the airfield a few days later, it's the most Yelena has felt like a real person in a long time, maybe the whole of her adult life.

“You’ll come to visit, yes?” Alexi asks, but his raised eyebrow tells her it's more of an order than a request.

“I will.”

“Come for Christmas!” he booms as he climbs out of the truck. “I will tell Santa Claus where to find you.” 

Melina doesn't follow him out the passenger door right away, turning back to face her and looking for all the world like a typical worrisome mother.

“Yelena…”

“мама, I'll be fine,” she promises, trying not to hear how hollow it sounds.

“I know you will. But please, watch out for yourself.” Yelena’s stomach knots at the memory of Melina telling Natasha the very same. That was the last time they were all together, she recalls. It always will be. 

“And if you need us,” Melina adds, “just come home, where it’s safe. OK?”

It's something about the way she says it that steals Yelena's planned reply from her lips. She doesn't want to lie, not now.

So she ducks forward, pressing her head against her mother’s and willing them both a little bit of peace.

“You are the best of us. Strong like your father, smart like your mama,” Melina whispers. “And like Natasha, through everything, you’ve kept your heart.”

Yelena pulls back then, swiping at her eyes, unable to stop herself from asking. “You don’t think that’s a weakness?”

“Maybe, at one time,” Melina admits. “But now, I think it’s lucky. Because now, you have a place to carry her.”

She can do that, at least, Yelena promises herself, reaching down to tug instinctively at the hem of her vest. Natasha died for them, and so she can live for her. She can do her justice.

“Stay safe, Малышка,” Melina says again, kissing her on the cheek before climbing out and following Alexi towards the runway. They two of them turn back to wave before boarding their jet, and Yelena’s heart knocks in her chest to remind her. That’s my family.

She puts the truck in gear and is pulling out to the main road, brushing away a few stray tears, when she notices it. A cassette, half-ejected from her ancient tape deck, with a Post-it stuck to the end. 

She peels off the note and grins at the mismatched handwriting -- “Love, Mom. And Dad,” both in Cyrillic -- before pressing the tape in and starting to sing along.

“A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile…”

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Eleven-Part One)

Summary: Asgard hosts a ball in honor of the visiting Alfheimian delegation, and (Y/N) is conflicted about meeting the Light Elves and the possibility of discovering her mother’s fate.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Eleven (Part I) October 16th, 2015 Asgard (Previous Chapter)

“C’mon, Loki, is that the best you two’ve got?” (Y/N) shouted over the thundering noise of Aurora and Samson’s hooves and glanced sideways at Loki with a teasing grin. After a week’s worth of horseback riding lessons and bonding with her mare, she and Loki were finally able to put their skills to the test in a ‘friendly’ race through the forests of Asgard.

Loki chuckled and leaned closer to Samson’s ear. “You’re not going to take that, old friend, are you?” The stallion neighed and picked up his speed. “That’s it!”

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) gripped her reins tighter and helped Aurora gallop around some shrubbery. “Aurora, I know that we’ve only known each other for a week but do you really want the males to win this race?” Aurora nickered, speeding up and coming in neck-to-neck with Samson. “That’s what I thought!”

“I never pegged you as the competitive type, darling!”

(Y/N) shot Loki a smirk and yelled back, “And I never thought that you would be a sore loser!” With that, Aurora sped past Samson and darted between two yellow-leafed trees, and (Y/N) let out a victorious cheer; tugging lightly on the reigns, she waited until Aurora slowed into a walk to glance back at Loki, who looked miffed while he slowed Samson to walk beside her. “I win!”

Loki frowned as he worked to catch his breath. “It was simply beginner’s luck.”

“Mm-hmm, sure it was, sweetheart,” (Y/N) ginned at the look he gave her as they guided the horses out of the forest. “What? It’s not my fault that Aurora and I bonded quickly!” Loki remained silent, his green eyes staring stubbornly ahead. “Oh, don’t be like that! Would you feel better if I gave some of the credit to Aurora’s trainer?”

“…It depends on how much.”

“How about…twelve percent?” She couldn’t help but giggle as she uttered the words and even Loki couldn’t fight the smile that was spreading on his face as he rolled his eyes in faux exasperation.

For over a week, she and Loki had been making up for lost time; they’d visited the city and all of the different shops it had to offer, they spent an entire day sailing both on the water and through the skies around Asgard and (Y/N) learned the hard way that navigating churning waves didn’t agree with her stomach, and Loki had also been teaching her how to ride a horse. Because she was mastering horseback riding so quickly, she and Loki spent a lot of time out riding with Aurora and Samson and exploring the forests of Asgard; Loki had even taken her to his secret grove to collect flowers for his mother and fruits for the horses. This week’s been a dream come true, she thought with a content smile, and there’s no one I’d rather spend it with than Loki.

“Once you’ve finished gloating, darling, we should head back to the palace for some lunch before we have to prepare for the ball tonight.” Loki glanced at her, his expression becoming a little uncertain as his green eyes filled with concern. “Are you going to be all right meeting the Alfheimians?”

(Y/N) sighed and nodded, looking down at the reigns in her hands. “I thank so. It’ll do me some good to try and learn as much as I can from them while they’re here.”

Ever since she learned that an Alfheimian delegation would be visiting Asgard for their bi-millennial peace treaty negotiation during their stay, she couldn’t decide if their impending arrival excited or worried her. On one hand, she welcomed any opportunity to learn more about her heritage and Alf Seidr but on the other hand, she was a little nervous about the possibility of learning of her mother and father’s fates. For twenty-six years, (Y/N) had assumed that her parents were dead and she eventually got over the fact that she’d never see them again, but when Loki told her all those months ago that her mother was a Light Elf from Alfheim, a small flicker of hope had grown inside her that perhaps her parents were alive. She was afraid that after months of quietly hoping that she might finally be able to meet her parents, she would only discover that they really had been dead for all those years.

I don’t even know how I’d begin to deal with that news, (Y/N) thought to herself before looking back up at Loki. “Whatever happens tonight, we’ll handle it together. I promise.” Deciding to change the subject, she said, “Truth be told, Loki, I think I’m a little more nervous about going to my very first ball. I wouldn’t want to wind up making a fool of myself or anything…”

“Darling, you could never; you’ll fit right in and I’ll be by your side the entire evening, I promise.” Loki held Samson’s reigns in one hand and held the other out for her to take, bringing hers up and pressing a delicate kiss onto her knuckles. “You and I will dance into the stars, my love.” (Y/N) matched his soft smile and a short while later, they reached the stables and were taking care of the horses as they playfully debated which Avenger could last the longest in a fight with Sif when Thor hurried in. “Good, you can settle our debate, brother; who do you think would last longer in battle against Lady Sif, Stark or Romanoff?”

“That’s hardly fair; Lady Natasha would simply befriend Lady Sif and both would team up to defeat Stark together.” Thor grinned as (Y/N) shot Loki a smug look and Loki childishly stuck his tongue out at her. “I came to inform you both that the Alfheimian delegation has arrived and that they seem to have brought their king with them.”

Loki’s brow furrowed as he poured a pail of water into Samson’s trough. “That’s odd, but then again, Alfheimians are known for their unusual actions…” He smiled mischievously at (Y/N), and she only raised her eyebrows imposingly in response to his teasing.

“Father also asked me to inform you that he wishes you to join our negotiations in the council chambers, Loki.”

Loki’s smile fell instantly at the mention of the Allfather. “…Oh, this should be fun; we’re going to spend hours trapped in a room with the Allfather and be forced to once-again listen to his idiotic demands that Alfheim should abandon their non-interventionism in favor of a completely unfair trade agreement that only serves to benefit Asgard.” Loki remarked, his earlier cheerfulness gone and replaced with annoyance and sarcasm. (Y/N) could tell, however, that his adoptive father’s invitation had taken him by surprise.

Thor frowned. “Loki…”

“Save it, Thor, I’m in no mood to hear another lecture about my attitude,” Loki grumbled. He turned to look at (Y/N) and the hard look in his green eyes softened a little. “I’ll see you later tonight at the ball, darling.”

“See you later, Loki.” (Y/N) stood on her tiptoes to plant a brief kiss on his lips before he turned and began walking out of the stables. Thor also wished her well before leaving, but (Y/N) could tell that the Asgardian’s smile was forced. When both brothers left the stables, she turned back to Aurora and leaned against her stall door with a sigh.

After learning about Loki’s entire past, (Y/N) finally understood why he was so angry with his adoptive father; Odin had kept his distance from her throughout their visit, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he thought her beneath him or because he was wary of her. It’s too bad because I’d love nothing more than to give that man a piece of my mind about how he raised Thor and Loki, she thought with an annoyed huff, her mind flashing back to all the heartbreaking memories her boyfriend had shared with her.

“I’ll see you both later!” (Y/N) patted Aurora and Samson on their snouts and smiled. “I have to go get ready for a royal ball…”

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

Several hours later, (Y/N) stood in front of her chamber’s enormous mirror and pressed the button to make her glasses invisible before inspecting her nearly unrecognizable reflection. She wore a stunning beaded emerald-green gown, its neckline cut low and its straps hung off her shoulders. The bodice hugged her chest, and layers upon layers of delicate gold-embroidered fabric flared out from her waist to create a full skirt. She chose to wear a pair of short green heels, applied only a minimal amount of makeup and her (Y/H/C) had been carefully styled with the help of Sif, who had suggested at lunch that they should prepare for the ball together. I feel like Cinderella when she got to go to the ball, she thought, twirling in a circle and giggling in delight as her shimmering skirts swirled around her legs.

“What are you laughing about over there?”

(Y/N) stopped twirling to look over at Sif, who was smiling bemusedly at her as she ran a comb through her freshly-straightened hair by the open window. She wore a gown similar to hers, but it was long-sleeved and silver, and the skirt wasn’t nearly as full. “Oh, I just realized that I feel like Cinderella.” When Sif’s brow furrowed in confusion, she elaborated. “Cinderella is the main character of a very popular fairytale on Midgard; she’s an abused servant in her step-family’s home and with the help of her fairy godmother, she gets to go to a ball and winds up meeting the prince, and then…well, to make a long story short, they fall in love and live happily ever after.”

“I seem to recall a story similar to that from my own childhood, but doesn’t the prince feed the step-family to a rampaging dragon?”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Um…I don’t think that I’ve heard that version before but in a different version written by the Grimm Brothers, both stepsisters’ eyes are pecked out by birds.”

Sif looked impressed. “Interesting…well, in any case, you certainly look like a princess. I’m sure that Loki-”

Just then, there was a quiet knock on the chamber’s door. (Y/N) hurried to the door and opened it to reveal Frigga, dressed in a glimmering golden gown complete with a tiara made of diamonds and gold. “Oh no, are we late?”

“Of course not, my dear, we still have time before the ball begins. I’m here with gifts for the two of you.” Frigga gestured to the large box in her hands as she entered the chamber. She set the box down on the table in the center of the room and opened it to reveal sparkling jewelry. “You both already look enchanting, but I figured that you might enjoy some added sparkle.”

In no time, the two of them were decked out in the most beautiful jewelry (Y/N) had ever laid eyes on. Sif chose not to wear a tiara but instead a silver hair clip designed to look like a vine of leaves, and she wore a simple silver and ruby necklace. Since she was accompanying a Prince of Asgard, Frigga insisted that (Y/N) wear a stunning gold and emerald tiara and (Y/N) picked a plain gold necklace to match. As the three of them left her chambers, (Y/N) caught a glance of herself in the mirror and was again awed by her royal appearance.

“Loki said that he’ll meet you here,” Frigga said once they reached the massive golden open doors of the ballroom; inside, faint music was playing while countless people milled about and chatted. (Y/N) nodded once, and the queen placed a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. “Just breathe, my dear. Everything will be perfect, just try and enjoy yourself.” With one last smile, she and Sif entered the ballroom.

(Y/N) fiddled with her hands, her earlier nervousness beginning to return so to distract herself, she thought about her aunt. She’d be treating this like prom if she were here, she thought as she glanced up at the ceiling with an amused chuckle. The mental image of her aunt holding a disposable camera and fawning over her and Loki gave her the comfort she needed, and she felt herself beginning to relax a little.

“You truly are an angel.”

She turned around to see Loki, a look of unabashed awe on his face as he stood several feet away from her. He wore a long-sleeved emerald-green coat with accents of gold thread and black trousers tucked into a pair of black boots. His raven locks were neatly combed back, making his face appear even more angular, and the green of his jacket brought out the stunning color of his eyes. He’s so beautiful, she thought to herself, her heart hammering away in her chest as he neared her.

“I think that’s a bit of an over-exaggeration, Loki.”

“Trust me, darling, from where I’m standing it’s anything but.” Loki stopped right in front of her, cupping her cheek with one hand and resting the other on her waist as he leaned down and captured her lips in a passion-filled kiss. After several moments, they separated and he gently asked, “How do you feel?”

“A little nervous, but ready. And by the way, you look very handsome tonight.” (Y/N)’s fingers traced the embroidery on his chest and she met Loki’s gaze with a growing smile. “You look amazing in green, sweetheart…though I can’t help but wonder how you’d look in purple.”

Loki hummed thoughtfully, his eyes darkening as his lips curved into a crooked grin. “In your color? Darling, does the thought of me wearing your favorite color entice you?” The hand on her face prevented her from ducking her head in embarrassment while the one on her waist tugged her closer to him. “There’s no need to be bashful; I’ll admit that seeing you dressed in my colors makes for a rather…appealing sight.” His fingers gently caressed her face before trailing down the side of her neck to rest on her bare shoulder, his tantalizing touch making (Y/N)’s breath hitch. He leaned down and just as she tilted her head up to kiss him, he placed a halting finger against her lips and grinned. “As tempting as you are, my love, we should head in before they start looking for us.”

“You’re such a tease, Loki!” (Y/N) playfully shoved her boyfriend’s shoulder while he chuckled, taking a moment to smooth out the skirt of her dress and fan her warmed face. “Before you distracted me, I was going to ask you how you’re feeling but you seem to be doing okay; I know that this is your first ball since Thor’s banishment…”

“I feel more at ease than I thought I would and as long as you’re by my side, (Y/N), I know that I’ll be fine.” With a charming smile, Loki bowed and offered her his arm. “My lady, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you this fine evening?”

She couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics as she gave him a small curtsy. “Why, of course, my prince!” They both grinned and she wrapped her arm around his. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, Loki.”

“I had an inkling of an idea after seeing your impressive Netflix viewing history. Honestly, I’ll bet you’ve seen every single Regency-Era film and movie that the streaming platform has to offer…”

Loki led her into the ballroom and down the staircase, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but gawk as she took in the beauty and grandeur of it all; the room was lit with magnificent chandeliers, the floor shone and the most beautifully dressed men and women mingled and talked as musicians played a melodious tune. There were a handful of nearby Asgardians who examined her curiously as she and Loki made their way down the stairs, but she just raised her chin and continued walking until they reached a familiar face at the bottom.

“You look stunning, Lady (Y/N)!” Thor exclaimed with a bright grin. His long blonde hair was tied back and he wore an outfit similar to Loki’s, except his was dark red instead of green. “Green suits you.”

(Y/N) smiled and bumped him lightly with her shoulder. “Thank you, Thor, you look nice as well!”

“I welcome you, Asgardians!” (Y/N)’s head whipped around as the music stopped to see Odin and Frigga standing arm-in-arm at the top of the grand staircase. The Allfather was dressed in shining gold armor and held an ornate spear in his free hand, and Frigga’s bright smile lit up the room. A little ways away from the pair stood an extremely tall man, dressed in an ornate magenta tunic and a golden crown. He had straight golden-blonde hair, pointed ears and vivid charcoal-grey eyes, and his tanned skin shimmered faintly in the light; although his face was lightly lined, (Y/N) could sense that he still had strength and vitality in him. Her eyes widened a moment later when she realized who he could possibly be. “We are gathered here tonight to honor our guests, King Tarian of Alfheim and his delegation.” The ballroom erupted into applause as he gestured to the man behind him, who gave a small bow. “And we are here to celebrate the renegotiation of our realms’ peace treaty. May our two realms continue to flourish and grow as we support each other on the battlefields and one day, through the trade routes.” Loki rolled his eyes as everyone clapped again.

Frigga’s smile widened as she called out, “The ball shall commence with the first dance, led by Prince Loki and Lady (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s heart began to race at the Queen of Asgard’s words; Frigga gave her a small wink, which in turn gave her the burst of courage to take Loki’s hand and allow him to lead her through the whispering crowd and onto the massive dance floor. Once they took their place, Loki flashed her a grin as he bowed and (Y/N) couldn’t help but return it with a smile and a wink as she dipped into a curtsy. When she rose, Loki clasped her hand in his and placed the other on her waist, and she clutched a handful of her skirt in her free hand; the musicians began playing a beautiful waltz as Loki started to twirl them around the floor.

“I thought that you always share the first dance with your mother?”

Loki smiled and murmured back, “After the peace treaty negotiations, she told me that she wanted the two of us to share the first dance of your first Asgardian ball and she simply wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

She smirked as he held her hand above her head and twirled her in a circle. “Now I know where you get that stubborn determination from.” By then, other couples had joined them on the dance floor and (Y/N) couldn’t help but marvel at the entrancing sight as she and Loki performed the dance moves that they’d been practicing all week; but while she was enamored with the scene around her, she felt a twinge of foreboding, as if something horrible was about to happen that would shatter the picturesque moment…

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

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Eleven-Part Two

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[chidoroki]

TPN ch181

(spoilers! AAAHHhhaha..my children!)

Okay, so remember in my last review when I said I was impressed how Ray, Gilda and Phil managed to narrow down where Emma might be in the matter of a couple months? Well, I take it back because it hasnt been just a few months, it's been two damn years! Oh my god, I can't imagine how hard it must've been for everyone, especially our two boys, to search for so long without even getting on single clue about Emma's whereabouts. Some of the children still doubt whether she's alive or actually in this world with them or not.

(image limit, so imagine the panels of the Goldy Pond kids discussing the lack of clues and Thoma and Lani doubting the reward again)

Thankfully, Gilda gets the idea to search in forbidden zones which is where we see her, Ray and Phil. Speaking of which, oh my poor boy. This is the longest Ray has been without Emma by his side. I thought the one month after Goldy Pond was hard enough on him, but two whole years? Damn, I can't imagine the stress and anxiety he's been experiencing. He's still so frustrated too and gets so close to Emma without even realizing it. Then, surprisingly, his beloved family steps in to help? The people he personally couldn't save now come together to help him save the one person who originally saved his life. Like, hello?? I love this! Conny, who was another sibling he had to use in order to put his initial escape plan in motion to save Emma and Norman's lives, is now assisting him in saving Emma from being alone. Yuugo, who knows firsthand how important Emma is to Ray and how close they are. Isabella, knowing her son kept his promise as he's always set out to do whatever it takes to protect his entire family. The fact that Ray's lost family members can feel how strong his bond with Emma is and they jump in to help reconnect the two of them again.. just, wow. It may be all the rayemma week feels getting to me but that's like a damn soulmate occurrence if i ever saw one!

The two unknowingly pass each other again but thanks to Emma conveniently losing her necklace and finding it with perfect timing, they all finally encounter each other. Everyone expresses their complete shock and relief that they had finally found Emma, and while I am happy they their search ended up a success, the mood changes fairly quickly due to our girls lost memories. She hasnt the slightest idea who "Emma" is, who these people are or why they're so excited to see her. The kids wonder if they have the right girl, as they take notice of Emma's bare neck.

One look at the necklace in her hand though and Ray finally puts the pieces together. Honestly, I'm not at all surprised he's the one to figure out the true reward, as Ray has been very perceptive since the beginning. He's also always been openly honest and blunt when things get serious, so naturally he's the one who has to let everyone know this because while it's a sad truth no one wants to hear, or even believe, they all need to realize it, including Emma. Even Ray has trouble coming to terms with the sacrifice Emma made. He understands how hard it must have been for Emma to accept the heavy price of her forgetting the family she loves so deeply and he looks so broken when he realizes that. He must be feeling so guilty that he couldn't have been there with her when she made the new promise. He still puts the blame on himself and he's so upset that his failure lead Emma to live in a world alone without the family she cares for more than anything.

I wasn't too satisfied last chapter when demon god told us the real reward and Emma's response was a simple "okay," so I'm grateful we learned more about the conversation now in this chapter. She really did want to live her family. She even knew some of them might get mad at her for keeping a secret. She says it's a selfish request, for her to place such a heavy burden on herself, but what mattered to her back then upon accepting the reward is what has always mattered to her, and that's her family's happiness and safety. It wasn't just her loved one either, but for all the demons and cattle children. This girl truly has a heart of gold and demon god himself is left surprised. Of course I wish she didn't think she was being selfish since everyone did agree to follow her as their leader but aahh.. my poor girl.

Spoiling the very end now, but we dont get one last fullscore trio hug. Of course that upsets me since I thought it would've made such a perfect ending, but it makes sense now given how everyone's reunion with Emma happened. While their happiness and relief is completely understandable after searching two years and finally finding Emma, they overreact and this visibly freaks her out. Come on guys, last time I said to gently remind her of her past, not bombard her right away. Having a ton of strangers surround you and tell you such outlandish things is quite jarring. I'm glad she takes the chance to listen to everyone, but she just doesnt know these people well enough to suddenly hug them. I imagined a hug would've happened upon her recalling some of her memories somehow and feeling relived that she met the two boys she often once dreamt about, but oh well.

Norman takes this time to step in and ease some of the tension, saying how happy he is that Emma's alive and even reiterating some of the things he said to her during his shipment scene. While this chapter soon shows how well the escapees have adapted to the human world and changed, it also puts an emphasis on the boy's true personalities that they showed since the very beginning. I've already mentioned above how Ray stayed true to himself, about him being open and honest to the others with the truth and even his own feelings. With Norman, I don't know the word for him really, but his speech about their family and his feelings remind me of ch1/ep1 where we see him trying to calm Emma down after seeing what they did at the gate. He stayed by her side and remained hopeful even though he was just as scared. Right now, I get the same vibes. He's just as upset as their family upon learning Emma lost her memories, but he still wants her to be apart of their family.

Although it seems like a very rushed way of tying up loose ends, I'm happy to hear about how well the children have been adapting in the human world. They're attending school and following their passions. They all look so happy! The entire Lambda crew is healthy and Cislo even has a prosthetic leg! The medicine made from Adam's dna was successful and also helped those children from the mass production farms. Mike Ratri and the clan are actually being helpful and trustworthy. I absolutely love Norman's comment about Ayshe not killing him! It really makes me smile and I assume that means she's forgiven him.. maybe. Her dogs were indeed able to cross over to the human world too and now there's even more! Chris is finally awake! They seriously have to fill the poor boy in on so much news though.

I get it. It took the entire story for me to understand but now I get Norman's intense feelings. He's been infatuated by this girl since childhood. He told us/Ray his feelings at age 11 then "gave his life" to give her a better chance at survival. He kept living just for the slight possibly to see her again. After almost two years, they reunite, only for about a week or two before they all cross over into the human world and Emma is no where to be seen. Another two years pass and while they all find her, she's almost a completely difference person. Yet Norman's feelings remain so sincere for her that he accepts this new Emma. He lets her know that the bright future she wished for came true. (me? speaking of noremma? even im surprised)

Her head might not have the slightest idea who these people are, but her heart surely remembers! Emma's feelings for her family were so strong that they persisted throughout these entire two years, even after she stopped having those dreams about them. Deep down, and without even realizing it, she loves them so much that it makes her cry.

“Why am I... Even though I don't know them. Though I don't know anything. Though I can't remember. Why... Does it feel warm, but also so painful in my heart? I wanted to see you.”

Seeing everyone else get emotional and expressing their feelings to her right back and having all of them accept this new Emma.. yeah, that has me in tears! Demon god truly underestimated these kids and how deep their love for each other went. Emma's family was never going to give up looking for her because, thanks to her influence, they also didn't believe anything was impossible. “Screw destiny” indeed! (also we never did learn the old dude's name or Emma's new one hm? odd.)

Did Emma get her memories back? No. Did Ray pat her head again so I could die from nostalgia? No, because I'm still here. Did we get a fullscore hug like I originally hoped? No, sadly. The ending isn't picture perfect but honestly, this is still okay. Our precious girl is finally reunited with her family again. Most importantly, they're alive. The trio are teenagers about 15/16 years old now, which amazing since they once believed they wouldn't see a day past the age of 12. Yet here they are, living happy and free in the human world without fear and killing, which is exactly what Emma wished for.

I can't believe the manga is truly finished. It feels like it all went by so quick, but perhaps that's only because I haven't been in the fandom as long as others, like if you've been here since the manga started then I applaud you and can't imagine how sad this must be after four years. The anime is what caught my attention and my love for this series only grew when I jumped into the manga right after season one ended. I must have binged all available chapters at the time in like three days, all the way up to ch129. Since then I've waited patiently week after week to see how this suspenseful story would pan out for out lovable and very large cast of characters. Each new twist and cliffhanger made my brain crazy and stressed me out but it was so great to experience them with everyone.

Also, big thanks to all of you who share your comments on these reviews of mine! Even though I started writing them pretty late into the story and at the most stressful time, it was great to hear so much feedback and experience the exciting finish with everyone. The manga may have ended, but don't let that make the fandom quiet! We still have future manga volume releases to look forward to, the live-action movie that is still set for this December along with a live-action series that was also recently announced. Most importantly, season two of the anime is still scheduled for January 2021! You can bet I'll do reactions for each episode as I normally do with other anime! The series still has so much more content to give us, especially if the anime continues to recieve future seasons over the upcoming years, so of course I'll give my thoughts on all that I can.

I give all my thanks and appreciation to Shirai & Demizu for such a wonderful and suspenseful story, for all the memorable characters and the stunning artwork. The series has truly become my favorite. That's right, I said it! My favorite. TPN has taken over Black Lagoon as my favorite series. (Revy can still keep her spot as my favorite character but I'll be damned if Ray isn't a really really close second.)

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (4)

     jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: this is mostly jk showing off what a shy tease he is, but with some angst at the end

words: 4.8k

       chapter four

Somehow, Jungkook had managed to keep his wits about him and completed the week without a single party – and without a single drop of alcohol! – so, naturally, by the time it was Friday, everyone was talking. Most people assumed that there was something wrong with him but a surprisingly large percentage of the students on campus seemed to understand his reasons – causing a car crash while under the influence was bound to make a person reconsider some of their life choices.

When your last class of the week, Macroeconomics, wrapped up on Friday afternoon, you were surprised to find Jungkook lingering by the door of the building. You weren’t sure if you were at that point in your friendship where you could just approach him and simply ask what was up or if you two still weren’t close enough for that but Jungkook noticed you and relieved you from making that difficult decision.

“Hey!” he walked over to you as soon as he saw you. “Wasn’t your class supposed to end fifteen minutes ago?”

You looked down at the clock on your phone. “Uh, yeah. The professor is—well, I’ve concluded that she can’t tell time.”

“Clearly,” he said. “I stayed back, thinking we could head home together.”

“Oh,” you said and then looked down, automatically mapping out the campus until you came to a conclusion that you and Jungkook could definitely walk in the same direction without it being weird, so, really, there was no reason for you to get excited about this. And yet your heart disagreed as it cheerfully tossed itself across your chest. “Sorry I made you wait, then. But you could have given me a heads-up. My Fridays don’t start until—”

“See you tonight, bro!” a guy walking past interrupted you as he punched Jungkook on the shoulder so unexpectedly that he nearly toppled over. Jungkook didn’t mind, though, and when you lifted your eyes, you saw a friendly smile on his face.

“Definitely!” he replied to the guy before redirecting his attention to you. “Sorry about that. You were saying?”

“Nothing,” you dismissed that as you two slowly walked out of the building and made your way home. “So, what’s tonight?”

You didn’t mean to pry but, after not hearing about any Parental Advisory parties from Inna, you had suspected that the band was going to take it easy this weekend – perhaps even give the not-so-legendary Brock a chance to host a second party, since his first one only seemed to do moderately well after Jungkook didn’t show up – but, clearly, you’d been wrong to assume that.

“Ah, there’s a party at our place,” Jungkook said and he seemed very uncomfortable admitting this so he tried to find a way to justify it, “it’s tradition, you know? We’re not performing this weekend because we didn’t get to practice as much – my bad, I suppose – but the party’s still on.”

“I see,” you said, not realizing how judgmental that sounded to him.

“Yeah, and it’s not like I can just not go because I live there,” he continued to explain himself, “it’d be weird if I stayed in my room the entire time and, now that I think about it, I probably couldn’t stay in my room anyway. The music would be too loud for me to do anything, so I’d have to—”

“Jungkook,” you turned to look at him and he finally stopped the nervous chatter, “you don’t have to swear off parties altogether. That wouldn’t be you.”

“Yeah, no, I know,” he scratched his neck, “it’s just—I don’t know. I get that most of my friendships on campus are superficial. Really, I do. But it’s—I mean, these people aren’t that bad to hang out with. I just don’t want to make it seem like I’m back on my old bullshit, you know?”

You didn’t know because you weren’t sure what his “old bullshit” involved but you nodded because he looked like he needed reassurance right now.

“Sure,” you said, “but you’re in college. You can still go out and have fun with your friends… or whoever those people are to you. Just be responsible.”

“Right,” he swallowed and both of you turned quiet.

Realizing that he had a limited amount of time to talk to you before you’d reach your dormitory, Jungkook was the one who spoke up again a minute later.

“I talked to my parents last night,” he said. “I called them like you said. They acted like it was the first time I’d ever called them. I’m pretty sure mom thought I only called because I needed to get bailed out of jail.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t realize you’d drifted off so much.”

He exhaled slowly. “Yeah, we did.”

“You’re working on it, though,” you said, noticing that your observation seemed to bring him down. Out of fear of having discouraged him, you added quickly, “that’s a good sign, isn’t it? You are actually trying to bring back what you once had.”

“Hmm, that might be a stretch. I don’t think we were ever a perfect family,” he scrunched up his nose as he said this and, for a moment, you were completely breathless because he looked so sweet and homely – it was an insane contrast to the wild, long-haired alternative singer that most of the people on campus knew him as.

“Yeah, well, uh,” you blinked, looking away from him and focusing on the pavement instead, “every family has its flaws. But not all of them are willing to work on them.”

“I feel like that’s a line from a Tolstoy book,” Jungkook said and you snorted. He noticed the disbelief on your face right away. “What? I only act like I’m empty-headed sometimes, but I do read.”

“No, it’s not that,” you said, shaking your head, “I just never pegged you for someone who’d read Tolstoy, of all things.”

“Why? Who did you peg me as?”

You gave him a side-glance, your eyes guarded by your eyelashes as you still wouldn’t meet his gaze – which was good because his heart had already stopped when you looked at him like that – and hummed thoughtfully.

“You always struck me as more of a Stephanie Meyer guy,” you said.

He gasped and pfftched for the next few steps before finding his voice, “Stephanie Meyer? I mean, there’s nothing wrong with her but what is it about me that screams I-enjoy-hot-vampire-drama?”

You shrugged. “You tell me. I remember seeing the book in your bedroom when we were in sixth grade.”

“I am not going to defend my twelve-year-old self,” he declared with mock-dignity and you couldn’t help but smile at the banter. “That must have been the year when the book was the most hyped. I got curious.”

“Hey, I’m not judging,” you said and then bit playfully, “different strokes for different folks, right?”

“I’d rather not have Edward Cullen stroke me, thank you very much.”

You laughed. “Fair enough.”

Jungkook smiled as he watched you but he didn’t get to enjoy the happy wrinkles by your eyes for too long because you two reached your dormitory and it was about to become awkward. Due to the fact that Jungkook lived a little further away, it was starting to feel like he’d just walked you home, which he technically did, but it wasn’t the typical Walking-Home that happened when two people were dating, and now you didn’t know how to act.

“Alright, well, thank you for waiting for me after class,” you said in an attempt to ease the awkwardness.

It didn’t really help because, all throughout the walk over here, Jungkook kept trying to find a way to ask you something and he was still having a hard time choosing his words.

“Yeah, uh, anytime,” he said and then, with a very dramatic stretch of his hands above his head – he wasn’t trying to show off his muscles or anything, he just needed to feel a little more in control of his body – he finally dared to say, “hey, so… do you think you’ll make it to the party tonight? I mean, I assume your roommate’s coming, so—”

“Oh, I don’t know if she is,” you admitted, completely oblivious about how long it took him to gather the courage to ask you to come. “Inna didn’t mention going.”

“She said she was thinking of going when I talked to her,” he said, recalling the time he’d cornered your roommate for your phone number.

“I guess your parties are more her thing,” you said, not wanting to turn him down but also not feeling up for another night with his drunk groupies, “they’re not really for me.”

“Alright, that’s cool,” Jungkook said, focusing all of his attention on a loose pebble on the pavement that he kicked softly with his foot. “I’ll see you on Monday then, yeah?”

He didn’t make it obvious but you could still hear the glints of disappointment in his voice and you’d have been fooling yourself if you said it didn’t make your heart beat faster – he wanted you to come! – which was still something that you weren’t used to.

When you were younger, Jungkook had never made you feel like you were going to die if he didn’t smile at you. Until, one day, that was precisely how he made you feel.

It happened in the final years of your friendship so you’ve had seven years to digest the butterflies and finish wallowing in self-pity. You thought you were fine now.

“Yeah,” you said struggling to swallow because, clearly, the only creatures that were fine, were the damn butterflies that had successfully reincarnated. “I’ll see you Monday.”

But the two of you stayed still for a few more minutes, both stealing quick glances at each other and then looking away when your eyes met. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and enter the dormitory because in doing so, you’d begin two and a half days of not seeing Jungkook, and you didn’t feel ready for that yet.

Funny how you’d survived seven years without talking to him but one weekend suddenly seemed too long.

“I should go,” Jungkook said after a while because it was true, he really should have gone. But he didn’t want to leave. “They’re probably going to send me on a booze run.”

“Is that your punishment for last weekend?” you asked.

“Yeah. But also, maybe it’s not? They always order me around,” he explained. “I’m the youngest. Sometimes, I swear, I can’t wait until they graduate and then I won’t have to go on beer runs at six in the morning when they’re too drunk to move.”

You’ve heard about the dynamics of the relationship between the Parental Advisory members from Inna but it sounded different – somehow more real – when Jungkook was the one telling you about that. You felt yourself smile as he spoke of the other members.

“You don’t mean that,” you said. “You guys seem really close.”

“We live together,” Jungkook said with a nonchalant shrug but you could see how much their friendship meant to him in his eyes. “We’ve seen each other go through all kinds of shit. They’re… they’re cool guys. The only ones I’m actually genuinely close to. You’d like them.”

You didn’t doubt that for one second even though, just days prior, you thought his whole band was overrated.

It’s been a long week, that much was clear, and you’d learned that you were a lot more prejudiced than you’d have liked to admit.

“I’m sure they’re nice,” you didn’t disagree, “I hope they’ll take care of you tonight.”

That sounded far too familiar and just plain affectionate when said out loud, and you felt yourself flush as you looked for something else to say to control the damage. But Jungkook didn’t seem to mind your worry in the slightest – in fact, he knew he was going to replay your words in his mind all the way to his house – as he smiled and gave you a reassuring nod.

“I’ll be fine tonight,” he promised and the grateful glitter of his eyes let you know that there were going to be no life-threatening accidents tonight.

Inna did end up going to the party. She felt like she’d already come so far by attending last week, so she couldn’t just stop going now – which made no sense to you whatsoever, but maintaining the perfect attendance clearly meant a lot to her, so you gave her your blessing and patiently endured her nagging as she tried to get you to come with her.

“I can’t bring myself to go,” you said as you settled on your bed with your laptop. “I went through this whole week looking forward to Friday so I could have an American Horror Story marathon until I dreamt of latex-clad monsters. I just can’t postpone that any longer and especially not for something as ridiculous as—well, you know.”

She used to think you were kidding when you first started to live together, but after knowing you for three years, she realized just how much these seemingly little things meant to you: like catching a new superhero movie or re-watching your favorite TV shows. And it wasn’t that you hated social interactions or parties in general, not at all. You just needed them to come in smaller doses than most people.

“I get it,” she said. “But are you sure? I mean, Jungkook is going to be there.”

“I know,” you said and, boy, did you. Him being there was basically the only thing you kept thinking about ever since you got home. “You can tell him hi if you see him. He knows who you are.”

Inna scoffed. “Yeah. As if I can just approach a member of Parental Advisory and start a casual conversation.”

You gave her a look. “You can. It’s the mindset that these people are better than you that’s stopping you. It’s also what keeps them thriving.”

“I know,” she said, “but still. I’m arriving to the party alone this time, and I’m not really a member of their group yet. I need to know my place.”

“Inna—”

“Yeah, alright, I heard how that sounded,” she stopped you before you could lecture her again. “But you know what I mean.”

“Are you trying to get me to come with you out of pity?”

She smiled despite herself. “Well, it worked before.”

You shook your head, smiling at her sneaky attempt. “Get out of here. And have fun!”

“I will,” she promised, spraying some perfume on her wrists before she left. “I’ll keep you updated on what Jungkook is doing.”

“Please don’t stalk him on my behalf,” you cringed, which was, clearly, her intention as she laughed.

“Everything I do,” Inna sang in her best Bryan Adams voice as she exited the room dramatically, “I do it for you.”

You wished her good luck one more time before she closed the door of the dorm and hurried down the hall. 

You didn’t often get to have your dorm room all to yourself so, as soon as she left, you exhaled in content and sprawled across your bed, your laptop resting on your hips, the first season of American Horror Story starting on the screen.

You got through the first few episodes before you had to pause the show and go find yourself a snack. Never having too much actual food in the house, you and Inna always made sure to stock up on snacks, and you returned to the bedroom with a box of Oreo's and a pack of Maltesers. Very content with the current state of things in your life, you continued to watch the show while you unwrapped the box of cookies.

Sometime in the middle of Episode 4, you thought you heard your phone vibrate but, by that time, you were already dozing off and assumed that it had to be a figment of your imagination. Still, just to be sure, you patted the bed with your hand, searching for your phone, and then gave up a minute later when you couldn’t find it without getting up.

Another few moments later, the buzzing sound returned and this time, you were sure of it – someone was calling you. Groaning, you lifted your head off the head rest and cursed yourself when you saw your phone on the furthest corner of the bed. Pausing the show, you set your laptop aside and reached for the vibrating device with a painful strain of your muscles that were aching to sleep now.

They woke up almost immediately after you noticed the caller’s ID, however.

Clearing your throat with wide, surprised eyes, you picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Hi!” Jungkook’s voice was so high-pitched that you didn’t recognize it at first and were about to double-check if it was really him calling you when he continued, “I’ve tried calling you but you weren’t picking up.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry, I—I didn’t hear,” you explained lamely. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s perfect!” he replied. He couldn’t have made his drunken state more obvious if he’d tried. “Wait, no. No, it’s not. You didn’t come.”

Every emotion he was trying to portray with his words was exaggerated as he spoke in a purposefully whiny tone. It tugged at your heart strings and you had to pull the phone away from your face so you could clear your throat again.

“No, I…” you said but the ball of excitement was still stuck tightly in your throat. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah but I thought you’d change your mind,” he said and then loud shuffling followed, “oh—whoa—!”

You blinked. “W-what happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m—yes! I slipped,” he laughed breathily and you nearly suffocated from the sound, “I’m really drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you said, standing up from your bed in hopes that walking would help you calm your beating heart down. “What happened to being responsible?”

“I am being responsible,” Jungkook countered.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” you replied just humorously enough so he’d know you weren’t actually angry or disappointed in him.

But he wasn’t in the mood to over-analyze your words as he seemed to bring his phone closer to his lips to say quietly, “hmm, you should have come then, so you could keep an eye on me.”

The accidental – or purposeful, for all you knew – ASMR had you gripping the windowsill for support.

“I didn’t realize you needed a babysitter,” you tried to play it cool.

“I don’t. I just need you,” he said automatically and your whole body lit up like an artificial Christmas tree. Jungkook reacted first, however, as he tried to back up, “uh, here, I mean. At the party”

“I got it,” you lied. The only thing you got was that Jungkook was just as capable of putting you in a trance over the phone as he was in real life. “I, um… I don’t really do parties.”

He shuffled – probably switching the phone to his other ear – before asking, “what do you do?”

“I like to stay in,” you answered, pacing around your room. “Watch a movie, maybe.”

“Okay,” he said, no longer as bold. “Maybe next weekend we can do something you do together, then?”

It felt like you’d swallowed your own heart and it was now beating all over you until your whole body was buzzing. “Uh—”

Thankfully, an unexpected overjoyed screeching sounded in the background of the call, distracting you both and providing you with the perfect opportunity to get out of the grip his question had put you in.

“S-shouldn’t you go check that out?” you asked with a nervous chuckle. “Sounded important.”

“Yeah, I’m—I’ll go check it out,” he agreed hesitantly, concluding – drunkenly and, most likely, incorrectly – that he’d stepped over the line. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Struggling to speak, you only hummed in approval, “mmhhm.”

“Okay.”

But just like before, outside of your dormitory, neither of you wanted the conversation to end. Despite you making it awkward by not answering his proposal – he shouldn’t have thrown it at you so unexpectedly – you did enjoy the fact that he’d called – when he had so many other people around him to talk to – and didn’t want to hang up just yet.

You two allowed the silence to settle on the line as neither of you seemed to find a way to break it. You kept thinking about his question, kept replaying it over and over in your mind, and the more you thought about it, the more frightened you became. You’d already given your all to him once before, but he decided he didn’t want you to do that anymore. He didn’t need you anymore.

You didn’t want to spend the few upcoming years exploring the boundaries of your friendship with him, only for him to decide -- once again -- that he didn’t really want to be with you anymore.

And yet, even though your heart was on the line here, you still refused to hang up the call.

“Jungkook?” you said quietly.

“Yeah?” he answered right away as if he was waiting for you to say something – and he was, really.

“Oh,” you exhaled. “I thought you went to check what happened.”

“No. I’m here,” he said and you heard him swallow. “It’s probably nothing interesting.”

There was no way it wasn’t interesting – you could still hear the sounds of excitement in the background of the call – but Jungkook found himself much more intrigued by the sound of your breathing as you tried to find what to say.

“Okay,” you said and then prepared yourself for another round of silence – only it didn’t come.

“So, uh, hey, tell me about these movies you like to watch,” Jungkook changed the topic in a slightly more upbeat voice and you chuckled in relief.

“You already know all about it,” you said. “I used to force you to watch them with me.”

“I wouldn’t call it forcing,” he disagreed. “It’s not like I did it against my will.”

“You sure made it seem so,” you reminded him.

“Well, you can’t expect me to go down without a fight,” he said. “If I remember correctly, you always wanted to watch horror movies. It’s not good for my dignity when you don’t flinch during the jump-scares and I’m the only one actually getting scared.”

He did remember correctly – so his mind did function semi-properly even when he was intoxicated – and you couldn’t stop smiling. You must have looked like a lunatic. You felt like a lunatic.

“Yeah, you were always a scaredy cat,” you teased.

“Bold of you to say so when you had me climb through your bedroom window to get rid of the spider that was blocking your door,” he said and you gasped, having had him swear that he’d never mention the incident again.

“I was ten!” you protested. “That’s also how many legs that monstrosity had.”

“Spiders have eight legs,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly and then mocked your previous teasing voice, “you were always one to exaggerate.”

You rolled your eyes but the grin did not fade from your lips.

“Thank you, though,” you said before you could change your mind. “I don’t remember saying that after you got rid of it.”

Jungkook was smiling, too. “No. I only remember you sprinting downstairs as soon as you could open the door.”

“That’s because you chased me around the room with the thing,” you pointed out, Jungkook’s teasing ‘come on, just look at it!’ still fresh in your memory. “Actually, that might be why I never said thank you.”

This got him to laugh. “Yeah, that’s probably why. In my defense, I was just trying to help you deal with your arachan—arach—ah, for fuck’s sake. With the fear of spiders.”

“Is it the alcohol getting to you?” you asked, giggling as he stumbled on the word.

“It must be,” he admitted, “but, really, I feel fine. Responsible drinking! Like I told you.”

“And you’re still having fun?”

Clutching his phone closer to his ear, Jungkook nodded to himself.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, “I definitely am.”

“So, in conclusion, blackout drinking is overrated,” you said knowingly.

“It’s—” he started but then stopped abruptly. You could hear his name being called in the background.

“You should go back,” you said then, feeling like, if you weren’t going to hang up, he wouldn’t either.

“Yeah, it’s starting to look like they won’t give me any other choice,” Jungkook said. “I’ll see you soon, though, okay?”

“Yeah,” you said as if that was obvious, “see you.”

“Give me a call if there’s a spider that needs my attention,” he bit one last time and then hung up as soon as you finished laughing – he couldn’t hang up before, it was simply impossible for him to pull away from the speaker of his phone when you were laughing.

You stared at your phone for at least a few minutes after the call ended, still beaming. There was a juxtaposition of feelings brewing inside of you: you were excited about receiving his call – even if it was a drunken one – while still holding yourself back from (re)developing any sort of connection with him out of fear of it all ending as abruptly as it had before.

But, as you put your phone down and returned to your previous spot on the bed – no longer tired enough to fall asleep – you figured that you were really more excited than you were afraid. Because, all things considered, you and Jungkook were no longer in the ninth grade. And maybe it’d prove to be difficult for you to fully open your heart again, but you couldn’t dismiss the possibility that, eventually, you could have Jungkook in your life again.

Three more episodes of American Horror Story later, you were positively dozing off. You did want to finish the first season – and you came so close – but your eyes were already closed for half of the last episode you’d watched, so you decided it’d be best to go to sleep. However, as soon as you turned the laptop off and got up to brush your teeth, you heard the door of the dorm open.

Poking your head into the hallway, you yawned just as Inna stumbled inside – and flinched, grasping at her chest, as soon as she saw you – dropping her keys onto the floor.

“Jesus, don’t stand there in the dark,” she hiccuped, leaning down to pick her keys up while you turned the light of the hallway on. She lost her balance on her way back up and had to lean against the wall to stand.

“Wow, you’re properly drunk,” you said, feeling another yawn coming but resisting it because it was starting to look as though you wouldn’t get to go to sleep just yet.

“Nooo,” she whined. “I didn’t drink that much. Just—just a little. A small little drink.”

You smiled at her description and took her keys from her. “Let me get those. You get yourself to bed.”

“Oh,” Inna sighed wistfully as she leaned against the wall of the hallway instead of doing what you’d told her. “You should have really come with me. It was fun.”

“Yeah, I bet it was,” you replied. “Come on, off to bed now—”

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked.

“Inna—”

“I have Yoongi’s phone number,” she giggled drunkenly.

“Alright, good for you. Now, let’s—”

“Can I tell you another secret?” she said again and her expression turned grave. “But, shhh, shhh, you can’t tell this one to my roommate.”

Confused how to proceed from there, you hesitated and then ended up choosing not to encourage her to keep going. You’d eavesdropped enough in the past week so the maximum number of secrets that you knew but weren’t supposed to know was reached.

“That’s okay,” you told her, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders to help her return to the bedroom. “You can tell me tomorrow.”

“No, no, listen,” she disagreed, allowing you to guide her towards the bedroom – and then nearly falling face-down on the floor after she trusted you blindly and ended up stumbling over the threshold of the door because of it. “I saw Jungkook.”

She started to giggle like a madwoman then and you thought that was the whole secret but as soon as you helped her sit down, and squatted in front of her to remove her shoes, she kept going.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, her hand coming to rest on the top of your head as she brushed your hair affectionately.

“Sorry about seeing Jungkook?” you asked absentmindedly, too focused on the removal of her heels to pay attention.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “He was coming over here.”

You managed to pull one of her shoes off and dropped it in surprise.

“What?” you asked. “He was coming here?”

She nodded and you stood up, giving the room a once-over. If Inna was serious, and Jungkook was coming over here, there was no way you were going to let him into your room – it looked very much like a cozy pigsty at the moment.

“With a girl,” Inna added then, “she probably lives here.”

Blinking as you tried to digest this new bit of information that she had dramatically withheld for a whole minute, you felt your stomach sink with heavy disappointment.

“He’s, uh—he’s going over to some girl’s place?” you asked, returning to your previous job of removing Inna’s shoes.

“I think so,” she nodded and, judging by her voice, she was already falling asleep, but she still didn’t forget to mention, “but don’t tell my roommate. She’s just starting to be friends with him again.”

Your hurting heart would have disagreed with her – a friend wouldn’t have cared whom her friends were sleeping with – but you kept your eyes on the floor as you took her heels off and picked them up to carry them into the hallway.

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I won’t tell.”

keep reading | masterlist

[iminye]

Chess

@tolkienocweek day one - shipping. Aracundo, Gil-Galad, a bet and chess, also cuddles and my very clumsy first attempt at romance. I should have gone with Headcanons instead probably.

It wasn't unusual for Aracundo to wait until way after midnight for him. Council meetings were a matter of long debates and advisors always found a way to make them even longer, mostly by discussing a topic that on other days would've taken mere minutes for such an extended period of time that it seemed downright exhausting for an outsider. But he knew that this was part of his husband's duties.

Husband.

The thought made him blush a little and he looked at the slim silver ring he wore on his right hand. Husband. They had only been married for four years and yet Aracundo was sure he would never tire of it. It made him happy in a way he hadn't been in a very long time.

Not since… not since ever actually. He couldn't recall a time in which he had been as happy or even happier than now.

His childhood had been a mess to put it lightly. He didn't like to recall it. His adolescence he had spent fighting in a war. His adulthood however he would spend married, loving and in peace.

He was sure of it. Now came a time of happiness. An eternity of love and security.

While he waited Aracundo used his time to run over some formulas that had been invented during the First Age and that had survived the sinking of Beleriand. Their purpose had been lost over the chaos of the war and the deaths of those who invented them but Aracundo had made the decision to rediscover their purpose even though they seemingly had none. Most of them he had quickly realised were indeed only brain exercises, theoretical concepts without any further usage.

But there were exceptions to this and whenever he found one he was overjoyed. His husband was very profound in putting them to use whenever or wherever they could be applied.

While he went through the sparse notes of a Gondolindrim scholar who had sadly not survived the Fall of Gondolin he glanced over to the table beside the large window where a chess game waited to be finished. A smile formed on his lips.

-

"Chess? What's so interesting about that?" Ereinion asked and picked up one of the pieces Tyelpë had carved for Aracundo out of soapstone. It wasn't his brother's best piece of work but Aracundo loved them regardless, it was the latest begetting day gift he had received, the first in their new home. He treasured them.

"It's a good exercise," Aracundo replied and smiled. He pointed to the seat across the chess board. "Why not try and learn? I can teach you."

Ereinion set down the piece again - not quite where it belonged but Aracundo was quick to fix that - and looked at him for a long time, without saying something.

"Why would you want to exercise in your free time? That doesn't make much sense. Free time is free time after all."

His logic didn't make much sense to Aracundo. Exercises were fun after all, especially when they had something to do with thinking and logic. What did Ereinion do when he had nothing to do? Did he just laze around in the midday sun and do nothing? Aracundo couldn't be able to do this. He would be overcome with the desire to do anything.

"It's also a lot of fun," Aracundo tried. "At least for me. But if His Highness isn't interested in learning I wouldn't blame him."

His attempt at getting out of a discussion before it began took an unexpected turn for him. Instead of nodding and turning away to go and laze around, Ereinion frowned, pulled back the chair on the other side of the table and took a seat.

"It isn't that I'm not interested," the prince stated, avoiding Aracundo's eyes. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "It's just that I've never played before…"

Aracundo beamed.

"Then I'll teach you!"

Ereinion blushed and nodded.

-

"You win every time…"

"I have more experience than you, Ereinion. When you have played some more and figured out a strategy I'm sure that you will be able to best me. You learn really quick after all."

Ereinion looked at him with skepticism but didn't say anything more. Aracundo wanted to laugh but didn't as he arranged the chess pieces once more in their starting position on the board. His new chess pieces - ones one of his distant uncles had brought with him from across the sea, originally meant for his mother who like him loved to play - too pretty and expensive for the old run down board they were using. Wood was rare these days. Aracundo didn't want to waste even a little bit on something trivial like this.

"Do you have time for another game?" he asked his friend with a smile. Ereinion nodded.

"As long as nothing comes up I should," he said. Both of them knew that something could come up at any moment, that these peaceful games were the most leisure Ereinion got these days. As High King and as General he had a stacked schedule and had to be ready for battle at all times. Aracundo on the other hand just like Tyelpë had been removed from all battle activities because of his Feanorian blood. No soldier from across the sea or native to Beleriand wanted to fight on the side of s Feanorian. It didn't bother Aracundo. He could work with the tacticians while Tyelpë repaired weapons and armour.

"Well then," Aracundo said as he finished rearranging the pieces. "Since you lost, you may begin."

Ereinion looked at the board thoughtfully. It was the sort of look he got when he was thinking about something that he was very serious about. Aunt Lalwen had said that he looked very much like his father when he did so but Aracundo couldn't testify this.

"How… about a bet," he said after a while, his gray eyes sparkling. Aracundo raised an eyebrow.

"A bet?"

"Yes a bet, not that I'm going to win it any time soon but if I win just one game you have to grant me a wish, no matter what."

The smile Ereinion gave him made Aracundo's poor heart skip a beat. A bet. Oh dear that could end one of two ways and Aracundo wasn't sure if he was ready for either.

"I won't humiliate you!" Ereinion added hastily. "It will be harmless I swear!"

"No swearing!" Aracundo said automatically, very serious and sincere. No swearing. That was a rule.

"But I mean it. I won't humiliate you, won't force you to do anything you don't want to. Promise."

Aracundo nodded.

"Alright…"

-

Throughout the war he didn't win a single time. For some reason though he didn't seem bothered by this at all anymore, instead any time he lost he seemed more and more eager for the next game. Aracundo could feel himself falling for this stubborn, stubborn man.

Oddly enough this made him anticipate the day the other one finally won even more.

-

The day he did win was some few years after the war. They were seated in one of the many gardens of the royal palace, on a blanket amidst the flowers Aracundo had planted himself. Their chess board was new, made and decorated by Ereinion himself, yet they weren't using the new pieces along with it. Ereinion had insisted that they use the old ones made by Tyelpë.

"Like when we were children."

Aracundo could not say no to him, not anymore. He had discovered quite a while ago that he couldn't deny the other man anything anymore, no matter how silly or trivial. Only a few days ago they had gone and collected seashells and lazed around on the beach the entire afternoon. Aracundo had forgotten what it was like to be without worry and as it seemed so had Ereinion.

Their chess games were a wonderful distraction. The only time either of them felt truly free from any duties. The only leisure time they allowed themselves, even though the bet was an ever present factor during their games.

The bet that was now over. Aracundo looked at his king, trapped and with no way of escape. He had lost. They had played this game consistently for nearly a century and a half and this was the first time Aracundo had lost. He couldn't be more proud.

He looked at his smiling friend.

"Congratulations!" he said and Ereinion nodded seriously but instead of demanding his price here and now he sat up and began to put the chess board and pieces out of the way, back into their chest, making room on the blanket in between them. He took his time but Aracundo could see how his hands were shaking with excitement.

Once finished he shifted a little, seemingly uncertain of what to say. That was new. Ereinion had never been someone who struggled with his words.

"You promised no humiliation," Aracundo reminded him. Ereinion nodded, his ears red.

"Not for you," he said, voice cracking.

"Why would you want to wish for something that would be humiliating for you?" Aracundo found himself asking.

"Because I know I would also like it very much. It's just that I don't know if you will like it the same way I would…"

Ereinion shifted a little closer, their noses touching.

"Because," he said. "I wish for this."

Aracundo's first kiss was not like how he had read about first kisses in those romance novels the Edian tended to write. There was too much nose, too little experience on both sides, the feeling of other lips on his was weird but it was the best possible outcome for this bet.

He felt like it was the perfect first kiss regardless.

-

He awoke when soft lips touched his earlobe. His mind had drifted away from the waking world too caught up in his thoughts. He slowly blinked away the fogginess that had settled in front of his eyes and was met with his husband's gentle smile.

"You should not wait for me, Aryo," he said quietly and kissed his brow. Aracundo made a small noise in protest. Of course he would wait for his husband. It was only fair… yet he had drifted off again instead of staying present and awake. A shame.

"Rest is important for you. Your mother was very clear when she ordered me to take care of you on our wedding day, you know? And if we're both being very honest with one another, I fear both her and your brother more than most things…"

Aracundo huffed a little and lifted his head from his papers. One of them stuck to his cheek but was swiftly removed by his husband's gentle hand. One more kiss was placed on his face, this time on his forehead.

"Are you coming to rest with me?" Aracundo asked. "Or do you have more meetings to attend?"

"In the morning again but for this night I'm all yours my dear."

He held out his hand for Aracundo to take and let him past the side table with their unfinished chess game and past the balcony where the two wine flukes were still waiting and past the normally closed doors into their shared bedroom.

Aracundo could only stand still as his husband lifted the circlet from his head and removed any ornaments, earrings, rings (save for their wedding band), bracelets and necklaces that he was obligated to wear because it was Noldorin tradition.

Aracundo had never really cared about Noldorin traditions that much, his mother being Telerin and him growing up being surrounded by mainly Sindar and Edain. But when he wore the small trinkets Ereinion had gifted him over the years of their courtship made his husband's eyes sparkle with happiness.

So he continued wearing them.

The small smile that graced his husband's features was worth any annoying tradition.

When they were done undressing and changing into simple light nightgowns they huddled together under the covers seeking each other's warmth and comfort. Aracundo buried his face in the other man's neck, breathing in the smell of ink and pine trees, while soft fingers combed through the long white strands of his hair.

"I'm exhausted," Ereinion proclaimed quietly. "Here I was thinking that ruling would be easier once the war is over and we all can return to a peaceful life. And yet.. yet they come and ask about taxes and land and legal privileges."

"You are doing great I'm sure," Aracundo replied and looked up at him. His husband smiled fondly but there was still a frown in between his brows. Aracundo was determined to make it go away.

"You think so, Aryo? Or are you just saying that so that I don't feel bad?"

"No, Ereinion, you're wonderful at organising and planning. You will most definitely find a way to make the people happy. It will just take some more time and effort. Tirion wasn't built in one day either "

He earned a kiss on his bare shoulder and one on his cheekbone for this, as well as a smile half hidden in the comfortable darkness of their room.

[ansxit]

Vive La Revolution

"ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ. ɪf ᴡᴇ ɢᴇᴛ ɴᴏ ʀᴇᴠᴏʟᴜᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ. ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴏɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ."

(Y/n) was always loyal to Essemp. For clarification, She is the cousin to the young ruler of their nation, Clay. He wasn't the fairest ruler, but he still cherished his land and his friends. (Y/n) would always stand by her cousin's side whenever skirmishes and war broke throughout the kingdom.

Until she happened to fall for the leader of a revolution.

—

03 - Spionage

When you awoke, you were startled to find yourself under the soft sheets of your bed. Bright beams of sunlight shown through the open windows and your curtains drifted lazily through the breeze. You slowly got up, noticing you were still dressed in your blue gown from the night before.

On your bedside table sat a letter, followed by a petal of your favorite flower. You smiled and picked up the parchment, immediately recognizing Wilbur's messy handwriting. The ink was splotched in a few places, probably from having to write in candlelight.

"Y/n," the note read.

"I believe you owe me twice now, seeing as I had to carry you down three flights of stairs, it was rather tiring and I expect to be showered with total admiration and half of your plate at breakfast later this morning.

With care, Wilbur"

You smiled at his request and opened up the drawer. Inside were many different letters, organized by person and importance. You nearly folded the note and placed it with the rest of the messages Wilbur has sent to you. You also grabbed the petal of (f/f), and placed it in an empty jar sitting off to the side. A light knock on the door caught your attention, and one of your handmaidens walked in.

"Princess Y/n," she greeted with a curtsy. "King Dream has requested that you make your way down for breakfast."

You've always thought the name to be ridiculous. The name "Dream" doesn't really strike fear into anyone's hearts. It was a stupid nickname given to him since childhood because Clay always had his head stuck in the clouds. He was imaginative, creating stories to tell to You, Nick, and George.

"Of course, thank you," You smiled at the handmaiden and she backed out of your room. You made your way to the wardrobe and grabbed a forest green blouse and chestnut brown trousers. Once you were finished getting dressed, you started making your way down to the dining hall.

The suite halls were unusually empty, they're usually bustling with activity. Disturbed by the quiet, you looked around to see where your handmaiden went. Luck wasn't on your side this morning however, because she was nowhere to be found.

With a shrug, you started to head down to the dining hall, your footsteps echoing as you went.

*

The red seats in the hall were filled with lords and high ranked soldiers, all of who were laughing and joyously eating their meals. Plates and platters of food covered every square inch of the mahogany table as the bright sunlight filtered through the glass windows.

Clay was nowhere to be found at the table, and neither were George or Nick. It wasn't often that Clay chose to skip meals, especially with the room so full, but it wasn't entirely out of the ordinary for him.

You recognized some soldiers from your battalion, the ones who didn't need any immediate care, sitting along the table. Some gorging themselves on food, others sharing laughs with their comrades, and some both. As you passed many of them started clapping and cheering, but it was just swept into the sea of other voices. All clamoring over each other, like an arrangement of which could be the loudest and prominent.

In the far back of the room to the left of your empty seat, you could spot Wilbur lounging around with a bored expression. He was dressed in a white collared shirt with the first three buttons unbuttoned, and had his left arm hooked around the chair. His right hand was fiddling with the silverware, as he just stared at the mahogany table.

A lord to his right, dressed in a black admiral jacket with yellow decor, made eye contact with you heartily nudged his shoulder. Wilbur barely looked over at him and gave the brunet a half smile before turning back to his plate. The lord, Ponk, you recognized, shoved Wilbur again and threw his head in your direction. The brunet snapped his gaze towards you and a goofy run spread across his face almost instantly.

You picked up the pace a bit as you neared the end of table. Usually you could hear the drag of wood against wood, the echoing sound followed by the kings voice allowing people to begin eating. But instead laughter filled the joyous hall and the wooden noise was lost. Wilbur had tried to hide his goofy grin by a smug one.

"Y/n," he chastised, "I'm disappointed, truly, it isn't much like you to wake up so late is it? Especially since today is such an important day." The stupidly cute grin on his face told you he was just teasing, and it couldn't help but make you smile back.

"Oh I'm terribly sorry your grace," You bowed your head in a mock-apology. "I was up all night because a devilishly attractive bard snuck into my quarters and, well we had a lovely chat together." The tips of Wilbur's ears flushed pink and he hmmed while looking back at his empty plate. "You mentioned today was important, pray tell what for?"

"Well, if you can recall, Clay wanted to throw a banquet in celebration of capturing the leader of the revolts," Wilbur lazily fiddled with one of the many spoons at the table. "He told me last night 'bout it and we have that to deal with by the next week."

"It's just a party though," You grabbed one of the many bread rolls out of a wicker basket. "How does that make today special?" Wilbur gave a forced grin at you while you stuffed a roll in your mouth.

"That part isn't what's special, Y/n," Wilbur's usual mischievousness had returned and he grabbed your hand from across the table. "The exciting part is we get to finally continue with the Spionage."

Your heart skipped several beats. The Spionage was a passion project you and Wilbur had been working on for as long as you two had been friends. It was an elite group of soldiers picked out from just about anywhere that would be another inner circle to protect the crown. Clay had been putting multiple pauses on the plans, obsessively picking out every flaw. The revolts didn't help either, and it had been nearly half a year since you were able to work on it.

But the last time you had the chance, Clay finally gave it his approval: All that was needed left was the people to vigorously train for it. Wilbur said he already had some soldiers in mind; he was more in on the people finding than you- You were the strategic designer and executioner, not a social keeper.

"I already have the potentials waiting in the training yard." Wilbur's nonstop smile was mirroring your own now. "They're just waiting for us."

You quickly stood up from the dining chair, not bothering to tidy the silverware. "Lets go then," You had to restrain yourself from shouting in joy. "C'mon, hurry, hurry, hurry!" Wilbur reflected the growing excitement and you both took off towards the training grounds.

The guards in the far back of the room opened the doors for you both as you passed, giving their respective, yet hesitant bows. It appears seeing the stoic Princess and her closest friend running through the castle was a foreign event.

The halls were quiet again once the doors had closed, the laughter and chatter amongst people had faded out. All you could hear was the birds chirping outside and the sound of footsteps against the marble floors. The dining hall was only a few halls away from the training grounds, hidden in the far back of the palace. It resembled a Colosseum in a way, where observers could watch the knights train and place bets on the best knight there.

When You were younger, you were known as one of the best fighters in the land. Having bested both Clay and the Prince of an old neighboring kingdom in hand-to-hand combat and sword fighting. When you were in your early teens and met Wilbur, he was one of the first people to be able to disarm you in a fight. Although technically he cheated his way through by distracting you, but he would argue he never did such a thing in the fight.

After the day was over, you instantly recruited him in your ranks and the rest was self explanatory. You worked with each other for years in end, building friendships and being in charge of Essemp's strongest military. Which is why Spionage was so important; Essemp had many soldiers willing to sacrifice themselves for the kingdom but in the palace, knights like Schlatt, assassins, double-crossers could sneak in and murder the royal family without notice. The castle- no,You needed people who were headstrong, willing to take what they wanted, and also a great leader and comrade. People who are able to work together and someone who you could trust with your life. You needed more people like,

"Wilbur?" Your voice rang though the empty halls. You two had slowed to a walk, your hands still linked together.

"Yeah?" Wilbur glanced at you from the side, his grip on your fingers tightening just slightly.

"The revolution, Schlatt, they gave up too easily. Don't you think?" You felt a cold chill down your spine when remembering how the very man you're talking about was a few thousand feet below you. The catacombs ran deep under the kingdom, built upon an old structure to another realm. "I mean, all this buildup to our meeting with them, and for it to be over so quick- it doesn't feel right."

"Y/n," Wilbur had stopped and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. "You don't need to worry about these things, we captured their leader and the majority of their troops. There's not much else they can do." His brown eyes that were usually full of mischief had hints of regret in them, like he was holding something back from you. "We can rest easy, especially once we finish Spionage, we'll never have to feel threatened again." He gave a reassuring smile but it still didn't quite reach his eyes.

"How can you be certain?" You held his gaze for a minute longer before dropping your head. He didn't respond, and interlocked your hands again. You knew you wouldn't get any sure answer from him, so you both continued through the halls to the soldiers grounds. "I suppose your right, but I think the only thing I have to worry about is your judge of character." You winked at him and started into a brisk pace. "Lets hurry up, I want to finish this before dinner."

-

The midday sun shone brightly over the field and the soldiers all stood proudly in front of you. With their heads raised high and shoulders lifted, they held the perfect prep stance. You stalked the rows slowly, making direct eye contact with everyone standing there. Wilbur watched from the pedestal in front of the troops, watching you judge each and every person.

Most of them averted their gaze, deciding to look past you or up at the sky. It was rare to find soldiers willing to bite back at their superiors, majority of them being bootlickers and following orders.

Two soldiers in particular caught your attention, one obscenely tall, close to Wilbur's height, and lanky enough to look like a gust of wind would knock him over. His bright blue eyes held your stare and he struggled to maintain the stoic faces of the soldiers around him. He'd fidget ever so often, either his grip tightening on the stone sword you'd passed out, or shifting on his feet. He might've looked out of place with the battle-ridden troops around him, but he was prepared and on alert.

In a row a few behind him, the second soldier was shorter than most, and his stance not as confident as the others, but he held your gaze with unwitting determination. You could barely see his face underneath the iron helm much too big for him and his long brown hair that desperately needed a trim, but everything about him shown he was built for fighting.

You walked back to Wilbur, almost disappointed. None of the soldiers here except for save 10 out of the 60 Wilbur found were what you were looking for. They were all perfect soldiers, no doubt: But this was supposed to be different from the battalions you send to wars.

"Find anyone?" Wilbur asked, getting up from leaning against the podium and turning his head away from the soldiers.

"Rows 1 and 6 look like they belong in a daycare," You crossed your arms and squinted at the people a good twenty feet away from you. "The girl with pink hairs got major bite though, she'd be nice to have around." Said girl was about as tall as the brown haired kid- and she held herself so easily. Like she could blast open a skull and then go right back to carrying normal conversation. Nervousness was hidden deep in her eyes but gave an overall positive demeanor.

"Seven seems fine to me," Wilbur muttered and you're gaze flittered over to someone with a buzz cut and sunglasses obstructing your view of their eyes. His stance was the same as every other soldier, he looks like someone you'd see on the battlefield that just blends in. But there might be character Wilbur sees that you haven't had the chance to yet. The guy's jaw ticked and you could tell straight through the glasses he knew he was being scrutinized. You could see it now, how his stance changed to something more prepared—more battle-ready. "Yeah, he seems alright." You looked at Wilbur with a set smile, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Congratulations Wil, you found some pretty decent people."

"Decent?" Wilbur scoffed, "I'll have you know I watched these people train for hours on end while you were up in a study. They're more than decent I'd say."

"Then say you shall." You smirked at him then formally faced the rows. Around 100 people stood inform of you, all waiting for your next directions. "Soldiers, split into groups of five and line up at the respective archways of the Colosseum!" Wilbur flicked a lever by the main gate and the iron bars boarding the exits opened with a creaky noise.

"On our signal a good old game of capture the arrow will begin, only this time," You held out the gold-tipped arrow in your hand, "Team battle royal, show no mercy to the others and eliminations will continue as the games go on." The soldiers looked at each other in a slight panic and the podium Wilbur and You had been standing on began to rise to the audience section.

"Let the games begin!" Wilbur hollered.

[notnctu]

jaemin + 18 (angst to fluff bc i think i will crY again) 🤭

ahhh thank you for requesting lovie hehehe and i didnt make this one too sad so hopefully no crying HAHAHA you can read it under the cut!

-author doie ❀

p.s. soft reminder to everyone that requests are now closed. we apologize for the wait and are doing our best to finish them all! thank you for your patience :) 

neighbor!jaemin x reader (i know it sounds weird but trust me lol) prompt #18 - “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love you.” genre - slight angst, fluff

jaemin, the sweetest boy next door --- literally. jaemin has been your neighbor your entire life and shared fond childhood play dates together out in your front lawns, like for example, learning how to ride a bike for the first time. and you two watched each other grow up into two very beautiful individuals.

while jaemin’s family has always been kind to yours, you never really knew how to repay their generosity. in fact, they practically raised you with your parents’ busy work schedule. despite never attending the same schools, jaemin and you remained close.

when jaemin finally got his license and a car, he’d swing by your high school to drive you two home. and when you stirred awake at night, he’d come over wrapped in a blanket to keep you company. oftentimes, your families spent the holidays together because you were all simply happier with one another.

jaemin is your home, your safe haven to run back to after a long school day, your comfort to seek when times feel weary. and even though he’s oblivious to how much he means to you, you’ve pondered the thought of whether or not he feels the same.

and you wished things stayed the way they are, that change didn’t have to affect this one part of your life, that jaemin was going to be right next door whenever you wanted to see him. that your story was always going to stay open on this chapter.

for the past two months, you had been keeping a secret that eats away at you whenever you see his shining smile. your parents got amazing new job offers that required them to relocate. and so, you are moving away to someplace far, too far from jaemin.

your heart hurts at what you two could have been and the memories that could have happened. for nights, you recalled past traditions that you’ll miss continuing. but most importantly, you’ll just miss jaemin.

it’s a friendship like no other. you have best friends from school, family friends that visit here and there, but all of which go back to their respective homes several miles away. jaemin is and always has been right next to you, within reach.

while you appreciate your friends picking up your calls after the first ring, jaemin answers the door within seconds of the door bell. he’s the first to hear your bad days, your good days, horrible breakups, and experience several growing pains, some that you’ve even experienced together.

on this very saddening day, you finally have to face the truth that you’re leaving him permanently. it’s the day before the move and your house has no ounce of familiarity left. boxes line the hallway and if it isn’t telling enough, a moving van parked outside at the curb.

“judging by your expression, you bring me bad news?” jaemin leans against the door frame with his arms crossed and dressed in comfortable attire. a messy bed head that also implies that he’s been in bed the whole day.

“how can you tell just by reading my face?” you want so badly to keep a lighthearted front.

“the dip in the corners of your lips and the tiny creasing between your eyebrows.” as he pokes at the space between your brows. you sigh while diving into him and he welcomes you with a heartfelt embrace.

“we’re moving, tomorrow. my parents got a job offer someplace far.” you speak into his chest and you can feel him tense underneath your hold. there’s a long pause before he does or says anything. then, he sees the van parked on the curb and the lack of lawn decor on your side.

however, he holds you a little tighter which has you suffocating in his natural scent. “you finished packing?” and if it isn’t for the crack in his voice, you probably would have thought jaemin is unaffected by the news.

“yeah..” you trail off and when you try to pull away from the hug, he doesn’t allow for it and actually squeezes you into him more. the air is quite stiff when you hear the small sniffs and the hiccups that jump at his chest.

“i can’t tell if i’m heartbroken that you’re leaving me or...” jaemin is clearly choked up as his words fade in and out. “... that you didn’t let me help you pack.” he inhales deeply, finally pulling you away from the embrace and gripping you by the shoulders. his thumbs rub nurturing circles.

“maybe both.” jaemin’s lip quivers. but a sincere smile grows through his tears and it tugs at your heartstrings. his tear stained cheeks and wet eyelashes, the face of a sadden angel.

“i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you sooner. i couldn’t get myself too.” you are regretting the decision of telling him so late, but this is the exact thing you had wished to avoid. jaemin crying is the last thing you’ve ever wanted.

“so you lied to me about getting matching christmas lights?” jaemin scoffs jokingly, still being the playful boy that he is.

“don’t put it like that! but.. in a way, i guess.” your voice drops later in your sentence, with an apologetic gaze that dip to the side momentarily. “we can still match. i’m going to get them for the new house, i promise.”

“i don’t blame you for it.” he wipes away any remaining droplets and you blink up at him with a longing heart. “i guess i’m a liar too and now that you’re going away tomorrow, it’s now or never to tell you the truth.”

“you didn’t actually want to get the lights?” jaemin laughs warmly at your clueless, puzzled question. his hands drop down to intertwine with yours, and your heart pounds at your rib cage.

he shakes his head, “i’d be lying if i said i didn’t love you.” you’re speechless, stunned at his confession. na jaemin, the boy next door, just told you he loves you. all this time when you looked at him with an aching heart, he looked back at you with fondness.

you can barely process this news, but jaemin is moving all too fast. he’s pulling you in for another hug, he’s saying his final words. it’s like your book caught the wind, and it’s flipping rapidly through the pages.

“wait, jaemin!” you stop him as he’s midway through saying goodbye. “i don’t know if what i feel for you is love, but ... i know it’s very close to that. i like you so much and all this time, i was prepping myself to let you go. mainly because i was moving away, but also because i wouldn’t have guess you liked me back.”

“i told you when we were twelve that i had a crush on you...” he looks slightly offended, but of course, it’s him being over dramatic and maintaining the humorous friendship you two shared.

“we were twelve!” you throw your hands in frustration at his ridiculous statement.

“and it never went away.” he smiles, pinching your cheek gently. “instead, my feelings for you only grew stronger.”

“but you’ve had relationships throughout the years...”

he rolls his eyes, “..and what am i now? single and still hung up on my neighbor, who is now moving away and taking my heart along too.”

“you’re no better. you didn’t re-confess your feelings until now!” you stomp, but jaemin thinks you’re absolutely adorable.

he pats your head and says softly, “i thought i had more time.” the single line drills a crack in your heart. “but... i just had an epiphany.”

and jaemin’s smile heals once again, gluing the breakage back together to make you whole. “i’m going to love you no matter where you are.” and you fall into him like a sacred place that will always catch you. jaemin feels like home. jaemin is your home.

[so-i-dont-forget-again]

So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 152: Zora’s Domain

 It somehow felt natural waking up to his smile. It seems like he didn’t notice I woke up at first. He apologized, asking if stroking my hair work me up. He just meant to move some hair away from my face, but he accidentally just kept going. I honestly don’t know, but the was sun rising anyway so maybe the change of lighting was what did it. In the temples the lighting hardly changes, it just barely gets darker at night, I have to really look for it to tell.

Sidon apologized for falling asleep, he meant to keep me company though the night, though he was so glad to awaken with me asleep beside him. He hadn’t been awake for too much longer than me. A prince has many duties so he must rise with the sun he says.

Sidon was glad I finally let myself sleep a little. He asked me how I felt about it. If it was scary or not. It was somewhat, but I felt safe to try. Sidon was glad, though he did wish I would sleep where the doctors could monitor me.

I’m healed, though some infections are still inside me. The doctors thought that sleeping naturally healed me, but that can’t be. I know for a fact I have slept out under the stars when injured and I did not awaken healed. The new theory is that I heal when asleep only when in a bed, or I’m comfortable. I also told them about how the hot springs can heal me too. They’ve started discussing finding some Sheikah scientists and seeing if together they could figure out how my body works.

Purah said she was going to go to the Revitalizing Chamber to study it. I wonder if she’s still there.

The doctors kept me for a while, and my infections have actually spread. This was why they didn’t want me to fully heal just yet. Thankfully the damage was able to be fixed for my side before so it’s just in my arm again. They want me to stay a bit longer to adjust my medicine and make sure it has no adverse effects on me. They told me to not use my arm still, or if I must, be gentle with it, they don’t want it to possibly reach my bones or other organs. It’s eating away at me in a way, so if I’m not careful, I could tear something, and the infection gets inside and not stay outside and it will become much more difficult to manage.

Sidon had mixed feelings about this. At least I could finally take the splint off.

I never knew food could taste so good! After all the tests and pocking at my arm Sidon and I cooked again! I missed eating much more than I thought I ever could! We cooked so much, it was practically a feast and we fed the whole town. Even the King was impressed by my cooking and loved trying Gerudo cuisine! The feast lasted through the whole afternoon. Sidon and I only got to eat after everyone else was full and done, but I don’t mind. They popped into the kitchen once in a while to help or to just chat for a bit. It was nostalgic to make honeyed apples again. I should visit Kakariko Village soon. Any food that was left over I finished. I’d like to try combining different cuisine, I think some of the different pieces placed together would compliment each other well! Sidon was excited by the idea.

The kitchen can get really hot, so a nice cool bath was perfect after the meal.

Sidon filled the bath with bubbles again and massaged the goopy stuff in my hair and on my scalp again.

Taking baths just feels so great. Sidon agreed with me that renovating my house to add a bath was a nice idea. I think I’ll keep the bathing plants outside so they can keep growing even when I’m gone traveling. I’ll just pick what I want or need and leave them by the bath when I go in. Maybe I could keep a fire rod at the bottom to heat the water. And maybe I could get a waterbed as well. It would be nice to expand the house a little and add a bigger kitchen. I could also possibly work the land around my house for a while so I can just grow more rarer ingredients, though the plants from the desert might not be able to grow in dirt.

Sidon told me he loved hearing me speak like this.

Speaking of houses actually reminded him of something. After reading my memories a while back, Sidon wanted to help with the construction of Bolson’s town in Akkala and found a zora who’s name ending with son who was willing to go there and help. He had experienced much of life, being alive when the Calamity struck as a warrior. He just wants a peaceful life. His goal is actually to wed a couple, and surely people would want to get married in the new town. One of the Gerudo women who came traveling with Sidon, her name also ended in son so Sidon convinced her to go. So all that is left is to send a Rito their way.

I should go back and check up on the place some time soon. I’m going to Rito Village soon anyway so perhaps after I help them, though I will be going past the Akkala region on my way there so maybe I should pop by for a quick visit.

Sidon wondered if my healing only worked when I am comfy and happy. Perhaps though the water was not hot, if I were injured right then if I’d be healing. He noticed that I heal when I’m comfortable. I don’t heal when traveling because I’m likely on edge or only half asleep prepared for an attack. It would explain why baths, sleeping in a bed in a town, and eating could all heal me, because they all relax me and make me comfortable. I could see that, but then I wouldn’t have been injured so long here getting to be with him so much.

Sidon asked me if I ever get scars even though I heal. I’m not entirely sure. I know I had scars on my body when I woke up from my hundred-year sleep. I also try to eat as soon as I get hurt so they’re gone so quickly I never exactly get the chance to even remember where they were.

Sidon asked if he could have a closer look at my scars. He gently traced them, like when he was reading the engravings about Zora history. It was like he was trying to memorize them. He said it was almost surprising how such a little body could fit so many marks. Some of them are slightly discolored from the rest of my skin, some of them sink deeply into me. Sidon said he’d never seen scars so big.

Sidon let me trace his scars. He has one the left fin thing on his head. He got it from a great battle with a giant octorok that swallowed him whole.

He became oddly quiet though, then he asked me if he could ask something related to my darker thoughts. He asked if I ever wish I never woke up, that I was never placed in the revitalizing Chamber. I feel like I should have died with them, but do I want that as well.

I think if I truly grasped this situation I’m in sooner, then maybe yes. If I remembered my past when I woke up instead of not recalling a thing, I think I might have.

If I wasn’t alive there would be no one else to finish what we had started. We’d all be restless, and the others will keep being like that till I defeat the Calamity. My want to protect everybody, make sure they are happy is worth much more than eternal rest to me. If I stayed dead, then so many more people would have gotten hurt than even now with the Yiga clan chasing me. Besides, as much as I hurt, there is so much here that was not a hundred years ago. I never would have met Yunobo, or Riju or Kass a hundred years ago. And I never would have gotten to see how amazing Sidon would have become if I somehow continued to live on in that time. I have something that outweighs the pain, even if at times it is all consuming and I almost forget everyone, but that’s why I write here in the first place. I re-read this every night, so I don’t forget.

Sidon told me it truly is a miracle that we were able to meet now. He is so glad we were able to meet, but he was wondering if all the pain was too much. He doesn’t want to be blind to my feelings, he wants to understand me.

At times it feels like he knows me better than I do. I’m not sure how he could understand me better, but I’m glad he wants too. He told me that he’s glad I feel the same.

Sidon asked if I’d stay with him in his room tonight. He found himself unable to let me go yet. He wanted to stay by me longer. He told me it was selfish of him to want for all my time, but he couldn’t lie to himself, so he had to at least ask, however he made sure I didn’t feel pressured to go. He never wanted to force me into anything. He only wanted me to be with him if I wanted too, being with me would feel fake otherwise, and he wants to keep our bond genuine.

Sidon only travels sometimes since he’s busy taking care of his people. Still though, he dreams of traveling more, like when coming to save me, his logical reasoning being making closer ties between his people and others, but he also just wants to travel. He wants to see the towns, experience life in other places and experience their cultures. After Mipha’s passing he was somewhat ignored and coddled. For so long, even now everyone is focusing on Mipha and grieving her, it’s still a fresh wound for many of them. Because of that he was just kind of there, still cared for, but just there. Though as the last next of kin in the royal family he couldn’t leave the Domain too often for his safety with all the guardians around. He has been taught to fight but has only gotten to use those skills on occasion, that was known at least. Secretly he’d sneak off to fight monsters who came near the Domain or the water ways that branched throughout Hyrule. The only person who didn’t do this is his father, he grieved for his daughter but he didn’t compare her and Sidon, he made sure to love and praise Sidon for his accomplishments, he actually liked it when Sidon snuck out with me to find Me or when he came to rescue me recalling his own reckless adventures as a prince, but he’s the king, he has so much to do. Sidon loves his people, and they love him too, but at a distance, because he’s not Mipha. The younger generations are more inclined to see him though. It was not a bad childhood, but it was straining at times.

Sidon told me that he actually sent out some guards to go out to search for a Hylian warrior because he’s not allowed to go out farther than Inogo Bridge. He only left because Bossa Nova got swept away by the current and he just had to go save his friend. Bossa Nova was to be kept in town, but he wandered off as usual and someone spotted him fall in the ferocious river. If Sidon had not been told, he likely would have stayed by that bridge, he only would have left if the situation had become absolutely dire.

Sidon feels he could do more for his people if he were allowed more freedom, and they all expanded their horizons and looked at the world beyond their canyon and waters. Others always came to them, rarely the other way around.

In Sidon’s room are trinkets from other places. He excitedly told me stories about each of the items. About the rock a Goron had given him, saying it was their favorite and a little guy like Sidon needed to eat great food to grow up big and strong. Some golden jewelry the Gerudo women gave Sidon after returning here from saving me, loving how excited he was happily traveling with them, and as thanks for fighting so well with them. Some sheet music Kass no longer needed since he memorized the songs long ago, they were songs Sidon was especially fond of because Sidon met Kass when he was practicing those songs. A stone frog from Kakariko Village as thanks for helping them when the town began to get flooded for a time. I would write everything, but I only have so many pages.

Sidon’s room is large and has a balcony. He has a large desk for paperwork where many of his items are placed. There’s this large pool in the middle. Zoras don’t sleep in beds often, they usually sleep in the water or pools like this. Sidon had many pillows, carpets and blankets from Gerudo Town. Sidon set them beside the pool as makeshift cushions.

It’s so strange to see Sidon without his silver pieces and the blue sash. They just seemed like a part of him I suppose, I’ve never seen him without them before.

As he was placing away his pieces, Sidon tripped over Bossa Nova who had wandered in as Sidon was showing me his items I suppose. He’s so quiet it seems neither of us noticed him. In Sidon’s room is also a work bench for chiseling and working with crystal. In the commotion Sidon had bumped into it knocking the items off it and I had to catch them before they fell into the water. Sidon panicked, screamed as he ripped the items from my hands and checked them. He shakily sighed and held my hands closely, thankful I didn’t catch the dagger by the blade.

The blade is white and serrated while the hilt is crystal. Sidon reminded me of when I told him of my time with Calisa, and all she had taught me about travel and survival. I only have large weapons so many things are difficult to work with without smaller tools. Smaller tools would be extremely useful for making fires, digging, cutting down branches, collecting bark, and many other things. Sidon decided to make a dagger for me out of his teeth. Bone is extremely strong so is should not break easily. Not only would it make for a good tool, but a weapon as well. Sidon worries that there may come a day where I’m in danger and he is unable to get to me in time, so I could at least have this, a part of him with me. He told me his affections for me runs deeper than I may even be able to even fathom. His heart belongs to his people, but to me as well.

The other item is like his sliver pieces, but bigger and longer. Sidon was also making a piece to protect my arm. It had the Zora’s crest, the three crescent shapes, but in the crescent shapes are sapphires and in the space between where the crescents touch is one of Sidon’s scales. He showed me how the gems could be taken out and have other gems placed in. At the bazaar I had taught him about what I had learned about gems and the powers they have. Sidon wanted me to be able to utilize their powers. This way I could use multiple gems powers at once or have multiple of one so the power could stack up, and with rubies, hopefully keep me warm in the Hebra Mountains where the Rito Village is till I could get some warm clothing from there. Sidon wanted to make something to protect my arm, though he was a little nervous that I’d be more reckless with my arm because it was protected and not try to shield it more.

The scale placed in armor to protect someone; this is rather culturally significant. Sidon had told his father and Muzu what he had been making for me, he started this one when he returned after saving me.

I asked Sidon if he could out right, out loud, say it.

Sidon told me that like writing down things, saying things out loud makes them more real, and I had so much on my mind already, he was worried about adding something else, about if this could stress me. I told him I would be okay. I just want to indulge myself and hear him say it first. Directly, not roundabout like we have been this whole time.

  Sidon thinks he’s in love me.

I think I’m in love with him too.

  The King and Muzu had questioned Sidon, but he told them he didn’t care if I didn’t return his feelings, he wanted to protect me from anywhere like Mipha with her armor and trident, Sidon would always come to my rescue should I need it, but in case he couldn’t get to me in time he still wanted to help even if he isn’t physically there.

It fits perfectly, I asked Sidon when he took my measurements. He got sheepish, telling me he just tried remembering how it feels to hold my arm.

I’m trying to keep writing, but all these feelings keep welling up and I almost feel like crying? But it doesn’t hurt? Like my chest is trembling, and my throat is getting choked up? I’m only directly writing this now, so I guess it’s only settling in now how real this is? Nothing has changed. We both knew we liked each other for a while now, only thing that’s changed is directly saying it. And now I can feel my heart pounding. Am I panicking? Am I just excited? I don’t know!

Sidon asked me if he could court me. Sidon was getting a bit flustered now, and he tried explaining what me meant, but just kept tripping over his words. He leaned in before abruptly stopping. He asked if he could kiss me.

Sidon’s teeth are still very sharp. When he parted he realized he cut my lip on accident and started panicking. I had to keep reassuring I was okay and reminded him just eating or sleeping would fix it.

And my heart is racing like when he tells me I’m adorable. Why must Sidon do this to me.

It was so late, Sidon told me I could leave if I wanted. I asked him if that’s what he wanted. He wanted me to stay. I wanted to stay as well.

Sidon tried staying up again. He apologized when he couldn’t keep his eyes open. I promised him I’d go to sleep with him when I was done writing, and now I’ll do just that.

First Page , Previous Page , Next Page 

[saphira-approves]

Don’t Compare My Boy To K*l* R*n: In This Essay I Will—

okAY I’m talking about it

So I can’t find the post right now, but a few days ago I saw a post on my dash comparing Murtagh of the Inheritance Cycle to Kylo Ren of Star Wars, citing parallels for their similarities.

Since we all know this blog is really just a poorly-disguised Murtagh stan blog, I decided I’d share my thoughts on this comparison. I’ll be discussing character backgrounds, character roles, character motives, and character actions.

Part One: Character Backgrounds

Murtagh and Kylo Ren are both descendants of the “previous generation.” Their mothers were both prominent rebels, their fathers were both considered handsome and rogueish, and both sets of parents eventually separated. But that’s about where the similarities end.

Kylo Ren’s—or rather, Ben Solo’s—parents loved each other and loved their son. They may have been flawed in the way they showed it, but then again, the only account we hear of Ben’s childhood (as I recall, anyway, and I’m not rewatching those movies just for a tumblr post) is Ben’s, after he’d been groomed and manipulated by Snoke for many, many years. Han Solo died believing he was helping his son; Leia Organa died saving her son; at the very least, they both loved him enough, even while he was serving the Dark Side, to give up their lives for him. 

Murtagh’s parents, on the other hand, were a mess. From Murtagh’s account of their relationship, Morzan didn’t care much about Selena except for her usefulness as a weapon; he was happy to manipulate her and her emotions, but I highly doubt he actually loved her. He certainly didn’t give a damn about Murtagh, throwing a sword at his own three-year-old son. Selena, meanwhile, although she obviously loved Morzan at first, loved Murtagh even more, and clearly recognized that Morzan didn’t care for her the way she had once cared for him—when she recognized an opportunity to work against him, she took it. 

Kylo Ren despised both of his parents, but that hatred seemed hollow, shallow—it had no real reason. They led busy lives, perhaps didn’t make enough time for him, but their actions revealed that they did, truly, love him despite his mistakes, and Kylo’s loathing reveals itself to truly be the manifestation of a spoiled child’s anger, magnified tenfold. Murtagh, conversely, had very good reasons for his complicated view of his parents: he loved his mother, but she was kept from him (and him from her), and she died—possibly in front of him, though he never says, and, unbeknownst to him until much later, having just hidden his brother in Carvahall. There was no love lost between him and Morzan, who was in the best case just an angry drunk, worst case—and more likely—an abusive father, and the only thing Murtagh ever expected to receive from him as inheritance was his sword (which is by itself another whole post in the making). 

Part Two: Character Roles

Both Murtagh and Kylo Ren played the role of foil to the protagonists of their stories. 

Murtagh and Eragon were very similar in many ways; I’ve mentioned before the many “subtle” hints Paolini gives to their true relationship (”a pair of matched blades” and “brothers in arms” come to mind off the top of my head). Their differences clearly highlight their different upbringings: Eragon thinks in the moment, with his heart and his compassion, while Murtagh thinks ahead, makes plans and contingencies—this difference is most clearly seen when Murtagh kills Torkenbrand and Eragon's strong moral code makes him protest, even though killing the slaver was, objectively, the best course of action they could take. Yet Murtagh is not only Eragon’s foil in action, but also his foil symbolically: they are both sons of Selena, which binds them, and yet the sons of opposing fathers, which others unwittingly use to pit them against each other (yes, this is also a whole other post in the making. like i said, poorly-disguised murtagh stan blog). Murtagh’s foilness to Eragon is deeply interwoven into their friendship and their parallels, showing up in many subtle and unsubtle moments throughout the series.

Kylo Ren’s foil status, on the other hand, is… complicated in a different way. For one thing, he’s not just a foil to Rey, he’s also a foil to Finn—in fact, I’d argue he’s more foil to Finn, and more just a complete opposite to Rey. He’s the experience to Rey’s raw talent, he shifts toward the Light while Rey shifts toward the Dark, but with Finn, their stories of pulling away from the Empire could have been fantastic foil stories. Wasted opportunity. And I’m so mad about it but this isn’t a star wars blog so—

Part Three: Character Motives

Of course, both Murtagh and Kylo Ren’s motives change over the course of their own stories, so we’ll be looking at what they are and how they change.

Kylo Ren starts his story in TFA as a ruthless, power-hungry fanboy who cherry-picked his history lessons and simply ignored the fact that his oh-so-esteemed Darth Grandvader was actually redeemed in the end because Luke refused to give up on whatever scrap of good was left in him and I hate hate hate hate hate Luke’s sequel characterization UGH and so Kylo is “emulating” a false image of what he thinks Vader was: the power, the presence, the mask and modulator aesthetic, the “I’m on the Dark Side because it’s fun, and I get to do whatever I want consequence-free.” Which… no! So, at first, what does Kylo want? Power! Sure, he’s serving Palpatine’s Smeagol puppet Snoke, but eventually he’s gonna be the most powerful person in the galaxy. …well, but then eventually starts getting a little boring, so in TLJ Kylo ups his timetable, tries to get Rey on his side after torturing her for information (OF HIS OWN VOLITION! BECAUSE HE’S A JERK! He did not CARE about even trying to convince her at first, he asked the few questions necessary to justify meeting her resistance with a Force mind-rape), and then when she doesn’t join him on the Dark Side he fights her, again and again and again until he nearly DIES, and then HIS MOTHER DIES TO SAVE HIS UNGRATEFUL ASS, so now Kylo’s priorities switch from “power” to… uh… what, again? Redemption? By… how? Sacrificing his life for Rey?

Oh, now he remembers how his Darth Grandvader history lesson ended.

he’s still a copycat though

Murtagh’s motives, conversely, actually make sense for his situation. When we meet him, he has in the last few months run away from Urû’baen and lost his mentor and father-figure. His two priorities: keep himself and his horse alive, and see what the deal is with the new Dragon Rider he’s heard so much about. He meets Eragon and Saphira by saving their lives from the Ra’zac, and he’s there when Brom dies, and Eragon loses his own mentor. Having just recently gone through that pain himself, Murtagh gets attached, and joins Eragon on his adventure/vengeance quest against the Ra’zac. Murtagh doesn’t reveal his parentage, but he and Eragon find that they have a lot of similarities and get very close, sparring and bantering and becoming “a set of matched blades” and “brothers-in-arms” and other such friendly roles that are not-so-subtle hints at their true relationship, and even when they fight—notably when Murtagh doesn’t want to go to the Varden, because they might kill him, which would be actively violating his first priority of staying alive—Murtagh still agrees to help Eragon because he’s a nice f*cking person okay. And then, through shenanigans, Murtagh ends up getting kidnapped, assumed dead by his few new friends, and then 

TORTURED AND MIND-RAPED FOR AT LEAST THREE OR FOUR MONTHS.

And Murtagh’s will never broke! Not until Galbatorix gave him a dragon egg, and that dragon egg hatched into Thorn, and Thorn bonded with Murtagh, and Galbatorix threatened Thorn.

Murtagh fought Galbatorix until Thorn’s well-being was put into danger. 

After that, Murtagh’s priorities are skewed; he’s forcibly sworn to Galbatorix’s will, which sucks, but he’s also given fantastic power, which is great; but he and Thorn still get tortured as punishment for messing up, which also sucks. And then Nasuada, someone Murtagh actually likes, is captured and brought to Urû’baen, and Murtagh tries to hide his face behind the silver mask when Galbatorix forces him to torture Nasuada (physically, because Galbatorix never forces Murtagh to attack Nasuada’s mind) because he doesn’t want to torture his friend. In fact, he does everything in his ability to help her. And in the end, he cares about her so much that he realizes hang on a minute, I would actually put SOMEONE ELSE’S health and well-being over my own, which means something in me has fundamentally changed, WHICH MEANS I CAN DEFY GALBATORIX, and so what does he do? He gets rid of Galbatorix’s wards and lets Eragon finish him off. He gives up the Eldunarí to Eragon and Saphira, which were a huge source of his power, because in the end, he’s not a power-hungry maniac, he’s a nice person that shitty things happened to.

(And if Murtagh is a nice person that shitty things happened to, then Kylo Ren is a shitty person that nice things happened to)

Part Four: Character Actions

If you don’t believe me, then perhaps we’ll let actions speak louder than words.

Kylo Ren: In his first appearance, he orders his troops to kill an entire settlement. From there, he tortures Poe for information, obsessively pursues the protagonists who have the key to Luke’s location, becomes obsessed with Rey, who seems Force-sensitive, attempts to torture Rey the same way he tortured Poe, kills his own father even as his father apologizes and tries to help him, chases Finn and Rey (again) into a snowstorm on a planet that’s imploding in on itself because of a lightsaber; and then he’s chasing the Resistance—including his own mother—across the galaxy, killing Snoke and calling himself Supreme Leader (yeah, totally something a secret good guy would do), cornering the Resistance on Crait with the threat of DEATH. STAR. TECH. (miniaturized, but like. what’s the miniature of a planet-killer???? half a planet killer??????), and then ALLYING HIMSELF with PALPATINE (the stupid crusty meatsack didn’t even have to groom this one, he got a new apprentice for FREE), while also PLANNING TO DOUBLECROSS… PALPATINE… and continuing to chase Rey across the galaxy, trying to get her to join the Dark Side, and he only stops when his mother gives up her life to save his. 

His mother… who, just recently, he THREATENED WITH DEATH STAR TECH. 

All this to say, his “redemption” arc is hollow and stupid. Dying while doing “good” is not redemption, it’s a cop-out. Vader was ruthless not because he took pleasure from killing, but because it was efficient; he was redeemed because he found out he had been lied to, manipulated, used, and abused. Kylo Ren was fully aware of his situation, an abuser himself who took pleasure in his power and in killing people; and he was not redeemed by a kumbayah force-life-transfer BS or for turning on Palpatine, WHICH HE WAS PLANNING TO DO ANYWAY. 

Murtagh: Helps Eragon, helps Eragon even when he could get captured or tortured or killed, helps Eragon even though he’s surrounded by people who would suffer no regret over killing him, helps Eragon even though he will get tortured for it later, helps Nasuada because he doesn’t want to torture his friend (let me repeat, he DOESN’T. WANT. to TORTURE. his FRIEND. And he even ends up sneaking into her cell, AT RISK OF PUNISHMENT WHICH WOULD INVOLVE TORTURE, to talk to her and heal at least some of her wounds, and give her a way to tell reality from illusion when Galbatorix does try to force his way into her head), helps Eragon kill Galbatorix in the final battle, helps a little girl he’s only just met and gives her an enchanted fork, because why not, and only waits to rejoin Eragon and Saphira because he recognizes his own need to heal, to take time for himself and Thorn, and later, if FWW is anything to go by, probably to redeem himself by helping people, and fighting whatever threat he’s hearing rumors about in the north. Murtagh doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people, and he goes out of his way to do good things, even at risk to himself, as much as he’d hate to admit it.

Murtagh is hardly perfect; on the one hand, I fully agree with his decision to kill Torkenbrand because what else were you gonna do with him, Eragon, but on the other, yes, he’s flawed. Notably, there’s the moment of him killing Hrothgar, which I’ve discussed, his anger issues, his potential alcohol issues, and his general tendency to put himself first (which… yes, but also, he really doesn’t). Best thing about this, though, his his enormous potential for change, because we’ve already seen him change! And it saved the whole war! One tiny thing, one small moment of self reflection and realization—he changed himself, without any outside influence except for finding someone to care about. 

TL;DR Don’t insult my boy Murtagh. Come back when Kylo Ren gets some actual character development.

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 11

Informative Phone Calls

SUMMARY: Olivia and Hana return to Lythikos, and Liam has a discussion with Riley’s mother.

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warning: Mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

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✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

- Olivia - 

The rolling landscape of frozen mountains sent a welcoming sense of familiarity through Olivia’s skin, which cooled her down from the fiery anger she had unleashed yesterday.

During the Tea Ceremony, the entire court was in attendance for no other reason than to gain the king’s favor via their wives and daughters, all of whom dressed in elaborate embroidery that depicted some sort of Cordonian symbolism. But once they realized that King Liam would not be making an appearance — and that the rumors of him being in New York were proved true through photographs that had surfaced the day before — instead of focusing their attention towards the tea or each other, they began to badmouth their monarch.

Throughout the past decade, many of the Great Houses’ loyalty had been tested after attempted assassinations and coups: House Nevrakis, due to Olivia’s aunt’s assisting the Sons of Earth, and House Beaumont and House Amaranth’s loyalties were both analyzed due to the treasonous actions of Barthelemy and Godfrey. The remaining members of those houses were put under severe scrutiny, but their undying fidelity to King Liam was unmatched by any of the other Houses.

Later on, as Cordonian citizens began to criticize Liam’s actions and decisions as king, Olivia took it upon herself to show her faith in Liam by condemning any person who dared speak ill of him.

During the Tea Ceremony, that job occupied her actively. She had simply carried around her cup while she spoke, and didn’t even get to take a sip of tea.

Such disgusting things were said about Liam and his behavior that Olivia wanted to throw her full cup of boiling tea at anybody who spoke his name. She decided not to though, because she knew that if she did, she would look like his hound, and that would be enough for them to create even more rumors about Liam’s relationship with her.

The Beaumonts being gone did not make it easier, and in fact increased the amount of rumors about how Liam was favoring childhood friends instead of those who could help better the country. The court believed that they had taken their leave of Cordonia to discuss some ducal advancement for Ramsford on an international level. Even though Olivia and Hana knew that wasn’t true, they said nothing. The Beaumonts and King Liam’s absence threw a wrench into Olivia and Hana’s plans, which was to join them all in New York today. Olivia had not yet told Hana that she had canceled the flight this morning.

Hana sat opposite Olivia in the limo, staring out the window. Olivia regarded her, and noticed a certain numbness in her features: her face seemed empty as she stared out into the beautiful terrain. She sat as straight and proper as ever, though. Olivia expected Hana to pull her into unnecessary friendly banter that she used to share with Maxwell and Riley, but she had been completely silent since the beginning of their trip.

Olivia looks out the window, and once they come across a familiar expanse of talon trees, she turns to Hana.

“I canceled our flight,” she tells her, trying to sound dismissive, as if it didn’t break her heart that she couldn’t be with Liam during his time of need. “I decided that it would be better for us not to go.”

Hana gives a small nod, her expression still emotionless. “Based off everyone’s reactions yesterday, I think that would be best. We should focus our attention on convincing His Majesty to return, and not give him any reason to prolong his visit.”

Olivia sighs and stares out the window. “I believed that we could help retrieve parts of Riley’s memory if we were there, seeing that we both played somewhat large roles during her time in Cordonia.”

“It would have helped Liam,” Hana states. “But we don’t know how long it will take for her to recall everything.”

Olivia sighs. “We need to find a way to speed up the process. But right now, Liam needs to come back to Cordonia. He can’t risk staying away for so long. People are unsettled by it. They’re losing trust in him.”

“But what about Riley?” Hana shakes her head. “If she gets her memory back…say a month after he returns… will she still want to stay in New York, even if she knows he came to bring her home?”

“We can get them to bring her here. And if they can’t, perhaps Maxwell can stay with her. Or Drake.” Olivia reaches into her purse for her phone, but once she takes it out, finds it dead. “We can call them after we get in,” she decides.

Hana turns to regard Olivia for a moment. When they make eye contact, Hana gives a tight smile, and by the twitching of her lips, Olivia can tell that it took Hana an unusual amount of effort.

“I don’t know if I got the chance to tell you,” Olivia starts again, “but Drake told me that Riley has two children.”

“Yes, I know. Maxwell told me,” Hana tells her. “I called him after our lunch with the Queen Mother and told them most of what she said.”  

Olivia raises an eyebrow. “Did you know that the older one is Liam’s son?”

Hana’s eyes bulge. “No… Maxwell left that part out.”

Olivia scoffs. “Leave it to Maxwell to keep you well informed.”

“I heard Bertrand say something about Cordonia’s heir? He was yelling at someone.”

“I wonder who….”

“But if what Bertrand said was true, that Riley’s child is Cordonia’s heir… the only reasonable choice is to bring them both back.”

“That is what I hope to convince Liam to do.” Olivia takes her phone back out. “Hana, do you happen to have a phone charger?”

Hana pulls a wire out of her bag. Olivia reaches for it, and plugs it into the car outlet.

“But…,” Hana continues. “Maxwell said that she has two children… so what about the second one?”

“The second one’s name is Eleanor. Her father passed away in the accident.”

“What I meant was that the Queen Mother said she deterred Riley eight years ago, yes? Riley disappeared ten years ago. Almost eleven.”

Olivia’s eyebrows furrow, a dull sense of understanding falling over her. “Yes, so… she was pregnant with Liam’s son when she left court.”

Hana leans forward in her seat, worry shaded over her features. “And that the child was already born when Riley tried to come to Bertrand’s wedding.”

“She was married when she arrived for the Beaumont wedding….”

“Do you know how old her daughter is?”

“No…,” Olivia tries to recall her conversation with Drake. “But I don’t suppose the two are very far in age.”

“So it’s possible that Riley was pregnant with Eleanor when she tried to reach out to Liam?”

Olivia leans back, slightly confused. “What makes you think that?”

Hana shrugs. “I mean… whoever Riley’s husband was… he can’t have married her for nothing, especially if he had to raise a child that was not his own.”

“Are you suggesting that man wanted something in return for agreeing to marry Riley? That he wanted her to give him a child?”

Hana’s eyes give a grievous flash, as if Olivia’s words were too familiar to her. “I don’t know what to think anymore…. I wonder what type of man Riley’s husband was.”

Olivia’s phone turns back on and dings. She goes to dial Liam’s number.

- Bertrand -

The day of the Cordonian Tea Ceremony, Bertrand was in a nervous fit. Every chance he got, he told his king that they should return for the ceremony, and that even if he made a late appearance, at least people would not be upset. But King Liam told Duke Bertrand not to speak of it around Riley or her children, and that he would not consider returning to Cordonia until her health improved.

And so they spend the day with Riley. King Liam and Drake helped her use her crutches, and even though she was incredibly lightheaded, she still managed to walk around the house with them. Charlotte Brooks mostly avoided the group, and always gave them a displeased look every time they would speak to her.

Bertrand wanted to tell King Liam to plead his case again, but was afraid that Liam would reprimand him. Before they had all arrived at Riley’s home, he had told the group not to do or say anything that may stress out her or her children.

And so yesterday and the day before, they had to leave Riley’s home a little past midnight in disguises so that they would not be spotted. King Liam was visibly bothered at having been spotted, and Bertrand heard him tell Drake that because people knew that he was in New York and were trying to find him, he could no longer take Riley’s children out to spend time with them.

Today, Liam ordered a large pile of pancakes, fruits, juices, bread, eggs, and oatmeal to be brought to Riley’s home. While they all were enjoying breakfast together, King Liam’s phone rings.

“Who is it?” Drake asks.

“Olivia,” Liam says. He puts the phone on the table, answers the call, and puts it on speaker for everyone to hear. “Duchess Olivia? Is everything alright?”

“Hello, Liam.” Olivia’s voice sounds tired to Bertrand. “I wanted to call and talk about the Tea Ceremony yesterday.”

Liam resumes his meal. “Ah, yes. How was it?”

“Oh, the ceremony went by without incident or delay, but there were many people… concerned about your whereabouts.”

He stops chewing. “How so?”

“Quite unsavory things were said…,” she continues, and there’s a sense of irritation in her voice. “And after hearing many people’s opinions, I believe it would be best if you returned to Cordonia immediately.”

Liam raises his eyes to look at Charlotte Brooks, then looks back down at his phone. Riley’s children and Bartie continue eating, but everyone else stares at Liam.

“Olivia,” he says. “Considering the current situation, I do not think it best for me to return before she gets better. There are a lot of things that need to be settled and planned out.”

“With the children?” Olivia asks, but she doesn’t give Liam a chance to answer before she continues, “You can just bring them and Riley with you. Ask her doctor when it will be safe enough for her to travel.”

Liam glances at Charlotte Brooks, then at Riley’s children. Riley herself continues speaking to Rowan. “I will look into it Olivia. In the meantime… I want you to figure out how and when Regina forced Riley away.”

“Of course,” she promises. “Hana and I are on our way to Lythikos. I’ll call you once—”

The phone starts to vibrate, and Olivia’s voice cuts out.

“What happened?” Maxwell leans over the table to look at Liam’s phone.

“Leo is calling me…,” Liam announces. Bertrand expects him to excuse himself and answer the phone elsewhere, but Liam answers the call and says, “Leo?”

“Liam! Good to hear from you! I, uh… I didn’t see you at the tea ceremony yesterday. Wanted to check in and see how you’re holding up.”

“You were at the ceremony yesterday?” Maxwell speaks up. “By the way, hey, Leo! But seriously… you went to a royal event voluntarily?”

“Yeah, I… I wanted to check in on Liam.”

“Well,” Liam says. “Thank you for your concern. We’re all in New York at the moment, which is why I was unable to attend. How are Katie and the children?”

“Uh… yeah, they’re fine. Look, Liam… I heard that there are rumors being spread on an international level about… y’know…. And… Regina wanted me to see if you were doing good. She thought that you would open up to me rather than to her.”

Liam scoffs.

“Listen, brother, whatever’s going on in New York… you’ve got to go home to Cordonia. Do you know how that looks, when a leader leaves his country for weeks at a time without explanation? Not only does it look like you’re doing something suspicious, but you just left your country vulnerable. You think Auvernal’s gonna pass by the chance to take up another military occupation in Cordonia?”

“Your Majesty…,” Bertrand speaks up. “You have to admit, there is truth behind his words.”

Liam balls his fist, but says nothing.

“Listen, Liam,” Leo speaks. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you again later. I know you, little brother. I know you’ll do the right thing for Cordonia. And I get that you’ve been having a hard time lately, but don’t abandon your people now.” Leo ends the call.

The group continues eating in silence, though Bertrand is itching to discuss the situation with Liam. The children mention that they will be going back to school next week. Bartie asks them what their school is like, and they start answering his questions excitedly.

Once the meal is over and everyone returns to the living room, Liam turns to Mrs. Brooks.

“Is it possible that I may speak to you a moment?” he requests.

She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Go ahead.”

Liam glances over at the group. Riley is in the process of walking around the living room on her crutches after Drake had told her to practice. Liam motions Mrs. Brooks back into the dining room, and Bertrand follows.

Liam begins: “I believe it’s time we had a conversation about… well, everything.”

She nods.

He straightens up. His posture is commanding, but not regal. He tilts his head down slightly and continues, “I came to New York to bring Riley back to Cordonia, but not to take her away from you or the rest of her family. And now, as you heard from my brother and the Duchess’ conversations, I need to return as soon as possible.”

“Because that’s all you ever cared about, isn’t it?” she questions. “Your country was always your top priority. Riley never was, was she?”

Liam seems surprised. “Of… of course she was. Is. Riley… finding her this past decade has was the only thing I thought about. During the social season and Engagement Tour, her safety was always on my mind. Please understand that what happened during my coronation was something that I regret to this day. I could not do what I wanted because of—”

“Because of what your country expected of you, I know. Riley has tried to make excuses in your favor.”

He pauses for a moment, taking in her words. “Ma’am, I know that you hold a grudge against me, but know that I hold one against myself, as well. I have never stopped blaming myself for the actions that caused Lady Riley to want to leave. I…,” his voice cracks a little, and he clears his throat. “I have regretted ever making her think that she anything less than my top priority. I’ve wanted to make it up to her for the past decade. And… I cannot imagine the pain I put her through, having to raise Gabriel….”

Bertrand’s heart squeezes. He knows exactly what that felt like, and he pitied his king who was suffering a greater deal of such pain.

“I came here to make it up to her,” Liam says. “I wanted, more than anything, to make her my queen. I understand your hesitation… but I need to bring Gabriel back with me. And as his mother, Riley will have to return as well.”

“Mrs. Brooks,” Bertrand butts in. “If you will not understand his feelings towards Lady Riley, consider his position as a king. He has a child, whose mother is still alive. They both must be presented to Cordonia. As heir, Gabriel will be safe in the sense that—”

“Why do they have to be presented?” she asks. “To give your people another opportunity to shame her? Don’t you think that having a child out of wedlock will send a negative image on her?”

“I know that western culture regards these things differently,” Liam states, “But the rules for monarchs and for people in Europe overall is different.”

She stares at him, saying nothing.

“I am a man of my word, Mrs. Brooks,” Liam goes on. “I will not allow anything like that to happen to Riley or Gabriel or Eleanor. I’ve only known the children these past few days, but I’ve begun to regard them as my children. I care for them as I care for Riley, and I will do so until my dying breath.”

She takes another moment to regard him. Bertrand notices anger in her eyes, but her tense face begins to loosen up. She looks… tired. There’s a glimmer of hope in his heart, but when he turns to look at Liam, his expression remains stoic.

“…Fine,” she says. Bertrand lets out a sigh of relief. “I’ll talk to her doctor when I go to work today and ask if it’s safe for her to travel. But you have to convince Riley. Without stressing her.”

Liam smiles warmly, “Thank you for your understanding. Do you plan on… returning with us?”

Charlotte and Bertrand both make a face at Liam. Bertrand is shocked that Liam would allow the woman who wanted him to stay away from Riley to come with them.

Thankfully, Charlotte says, “No, I’ll be staying here. Theodore’s company is having a little trouble, so I have to help fix that. I also have a job, in case you forgot. But I will visit often.” She steps closer to Liam. “And if there is even the slightest whisper that you hurt my daughter or my grandchildren, your citizens’ disapproval will be the last thing you’ll have to worry about.”

Liam bows his head. “Understood, ma’am.”

She squints at him, and hesitates to continue. “You can all bring your things over, too. That should prevent people speculating. And it’ll save you some of your citizen’s tax dollars.”

Liam opens his mouth to say something, but she walks away. Liam turns to look at Riley, still walking around the living room with Rowan and Drake by her side.

“Well,” Bertrand comments. “That was quite a hassle.”

Liam chuckles a little. “I never expected her to agree.”

“For a moment I believed she was going to have you kicked out!”

“Yes. I heard Rowan speaking to her the other day. I hope their conversation made her understand that this is more about my relationship with Riley.”

“Sire?”

Liam turns to look at him. “It’s about Gabriel, and what the boy deserves. Though his life in New York is pleasant, there are many things he must be given by birthright that he has not received.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.” They both turn to look at everyone in the living room. “Though it still seems as though you’re on thin ice with Mrs. Brooks. I hope she will not change her mind.”

After a few moments, Eleanor walks up to Liam with a small booklet in her hands. When she reaches him, she holds out her finger.

“What is this?” he asks.

“A sticker!” she tells him. “For you!”

“Ah, thank you! What for?” He puts the sticker on his chest. It’s a smiley face.

“It’s the first time Grandma didn’t yell at you. Good job!” She gives him a thumbs up, and goes to follow her mother.

[tamorasky]

Rise to Me Chapter 11 - February 1947

Summary: 1947. It had been nearly four years since she had received a letter from her sister. Now with the end of the war and her impending wedding, Anna Rendelle is more determined than ever to find her sister.

1943. All her life Elsa Rendelle had been told to be good, know her place and to marry well. When an opportunity arises to make something of herself, finding herself in Occupied France as a part of a larger network of secret agents.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Elsa/Honeymaren, Anna/Hans (Briefly) 

AO3

Note: Not the greatest chapter, I know. But we're starting to get the ball rolling with this one! My partner pointed out to me that Gerda is like a mix of Dwight and Angela from the office, so we're just gonna roll with thatAlso thank you all so much for the support, leaving kudos, comments and reblogging/likes on tumblr. It means so much to me to see support for this fic and I always look forward in what you guys think 💕 💕

Her auburn hair is tied up in a messy bun and is dressed in a green satin robe as she stands in front of her closet, pulling out various outfits and throwing them over her arm. At this point, Anna has removed most of her clothing out of her closet. She carries her clothes to the single bed with her arms straining, discarding the garments on the bed next to her suitcase.

Anna places her hands on her hips as she stares at all the items; there is no way she’ll be able to get all of this into one suitcase. But Kristoff had made her promise only to bring one reasonably sized bag.

“You won’t be able to get everything into that.” Gerda’s voice startles the young woman out of her trance. Anna glances over her shoulder to see the Norwegian woman entering her room, placing fresh towels on the dresser next to the door.

“I know.” Anna sighs. Gerda places the laundry basket, resting on her hip, onto the ground as she comes to stand next to the auburn-haired woman. The older woman looks at the pile of clothes.

“That blue dress looks better with a hat.” Gerda points at the dress second on the pile.

“I don’t have room for hats,” Anna responds with her hands on her hips. “Mr.Bjorgman said I’m only allowed one suitcase.”

The older woman hums in response. “Smart man, you have too many clothes.” Gerda steps forward, grabbing the blue dress she just pointed at.

“Hey, wait!? What are you going with that?” Anna’s brows rise as the other woman makes her way across the room, placing the dress into the closet.

“You agreed it looks better with a hat, yet you can’t bring one. So, this stays behind.” Gerda responds, meandering back toward the bed. Anna sigh, glancing back at her pile of clothes.

“I-I guess I haven’t done this in a while.” Anna giggles, embarrassed at her inability to pack for her journey.

Gerda shrugs her shoulders, grabbing any dresses or outfits that she’s seen Anna wear to work or formal gatherings. “I came to England on a boat with only my purse. No silk, you’re going to France with a man who is not your fiancé. You don’t want to look like a whore.”

Anna stares at her landlady, taken aback at the blunt insult. Although the older woman did have a point, it did reduce the number of her clothing. “Alright, no formal wear.”

Gerda shuffles back towards the closet, hanging up the pieces she had rejected on behalf of Anna. She returns to the young woman’s side, handing appropriate items to Anna.

“Take your brown tweed skirt and the olive blouse with foxes on them.” Gerda hands the outfit to Anna, who quickly packs the garments into the suitcase. She flattens the pussy bow on the blouse as Gerda passes her a navy cable knit sweater to match.

Gerda hands Anna an a-line tartan skirt along with a white blouse while saying. “You can match the navy sweater with this outfit.”

The younger woman nods, placing the second outfit next to the other. She is given a slim grey skirt which stopped a few inches below her knee along with a short sleeve light blue collared blouse.

They pack a few more pieces, mostly short sleeve and collared dresses; blue, mustard yellow and a tartan patterned. All of which would match with her navy and burgundy sweaters, along with a pair of grey slacks.

“So, this Mr. Bjorgman…” Gerda trails off, handing a pair of heels to the young woman. “Is he respectable?”

Anna raises a brow at her landlady. “What do you mean respectable?”

“I mean, you are a single woman and man travelling together. I worry about your reputation.” Gerda shakes her head, handing a pair of black flats to her.

“I’m not a single woman. I’m happily engaged, remember?” Anna sighs, placing them into the suitcase. Her gaze shifts to the large square diamond ring on her finger.

“Even still. You’re an engaged woman, travelling with a man who is not your fiancé.” Gerda shakes her head. Anna suppresses the urge to roll her eyes at the older woman. The notion of travelling with a man who isn’t her fiancé being scandalous is completely ridiculous.

“It will be fine, Gerda.” Anna sighs, placing her undergarments into the suitcase. Much to the young woman’s relief, the doorbell rings throughout the house. Gerda glances towards the door, shuffling out of the room without another word.

Anna shakes her head, placing her three pairs of stockings into the suitcase along with a few pairs of socks. With a sigh, she puts her hands on her hips, glancing around her room while contemplating what else she needs to pack.

The letters are in her purse, and she still needed to pack her makeup. Although due to Kristoff’s instructions, she couldn’t bring her hard makeup case. She had to pack them into the small side pockets in the suitcase. Even still, she had to limit herself to four lipsticks, one grey eye shadow for the evenings, her liquid mascara, powders and blush. However, she had cheated and packed three more lipsticks into her purse.

Her ears perk up at the sound of someone walking up the stairs, turning toward her door to not see her landlady standing in the doorway, but her best friend. Olaf gives her a toothy grin, taking off his hat as he enters her bedroom.

“Bonjour, comment ça va?” Olaf asks as he settles himself in the desk chair. Anna shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she places in a third pair of shoes; her oxfords.

“I don’t need to speak French until arriving there,” Anna responds, closing the suitcase and buckling it shut.

“Yeah, but you haven’t spoken it since you were in fourth year.” Olaf points out, opening the drawers in Anna’s desk. “You’re going to need to practice.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.” Anna shrugs, sitting on her bed’s edge with a sigh. Her friend’s brows are raised in surprise, staring at her with amusement.

“I don’t think it is.”

Anna shrugs, unconcerned about her language skills. “I mean, if you’re more confident in French than I am, why don’t you join us?”

“I have a job. Besides, if you want someone to join you and your second yank, why don’t you ask Hans?” Olaf inquires, pulling out light green ribbons from the desk.

“Because Hans doesn’t speak French, and he’s busy trying to plan our passage to America,” Anna explains, resting her hand on the leather suitcase.

“And how does Hans feel about you travelling with Kristoff?” Olaf crosses his arms, leaning back in the chair. She shrugs, her fingers now running against the bag.

“He’s fine with it.”

“He is?” Olaf raises his brows, not entirely convinced.

“We talked it over, and he trusts me.” Anna shrugs.

“I wouldn’t.” He states bluntly. “Have you seen Kristoff?”

“Olaf.” Anna groans, throwing her head back in exasperation. “It isn’t like that, at all.”

The blonde man chuckles, staring at her incredulously. “No? because I’m not entirely convinced, and honestly, if Hans noticed anything around him, he should be concerned about his fiancé running away to France with a handsome man.”

“Ah yes, post-war France.” Anna sighs, rolling her eyes. “The most romantic place to run away to with a rude drunk yank.”

Olaf stares at his friend. His smile fading as he regards the young woman. “Why didn’t you ask Hans to go?”

“I just told you.” Anna’s brows furrow. “He’s busy here and trying to arrange our travel to America. I can’t just ask him to up and leave with me.”

“Anna,” Olaf stands from his chair, grabbing Anna’s suitcase and placing it on the ground. He sits next to her, slipping his hand into hers. “We’ve known one another since we were children.”

“And?” She questions, drawing out every syllable of the word. Completely unsure where her childhood friend is going with this.

“Why isn’t Hans going to France with you?” Olaf questions again, not convinced of his friend’s excuse for her fiancé. Anna’s gaze falters from Olaf’s going to the ground, staring at the brown knit rug.

“H-he’s just busy.” Anna insists. She didn’t want to get into it with him at the present moment, Kristoff would be here at any point, and Anna knows that the American would not take well to waiting for her.

“Alright.” Olaf nods. It falls silent between them, both of them knowing that she is lying. “So, when does Kristoff come?”

“He said he’d be here quarter to 10,” Anna responds, meeting Olaf’s gaze once again. “It’s about 2 hours to Portsmouth, so we’ll have lots of time to catch the ferry to Le Havre at 12:30. And then a 3-hour drive to Arras. We should be in Arras by 8:30 or 9 at night.”

“That’s quite a journey.” Olaf comments. He gives her a sympathetic smile, knowing Anna’s attention span did not fare well on long travel, as he recalls their road trip to Dover last summer.

“I’d rather spend 10 hours travelling with the grump than spreading it out into days. Something tells me that a lengthy road trip would result in the death of one of us.” Anna jokes, her heart swelling as Olaf chuckles.

“As long as your body doesn’t end up in the bottom of a steamer trunk, I’m happy.” Olaf quips back, nudging his shoulder against Anna’s.

She looks up at him, beaming. “I would also be very happy, if I don’t.”

“I’m going to miss you.” Olaf places his free hand on top of their clasped hands.

“I won’t be gone for long. Maybe only for two weeks at the most.” Anna shrugs, trying to reassure her best friend.

“Two weeks?” He questions, brows raised. Unconvinced that his friend would be able to complete this undertaking in only two weeks.

“Yeah, I mean. We know she deployed to Arras; it really shouldn’t take us a long time.” Anna explains as if trying to convince herself. She and Kristoff only have until the end of this month to find Elsa. She leaves for America at the end of the month.

“Well…” Olaf trails off, squeezing her hand. “I guess I’ll see you in two weeks.”

He smiles at her reassuringly. She leans her head against his shoulder. “You will.”

They hear a car honk from the street below her window. Olaf laughs, shaking his head. “Wow, he is impatient.”

“You have no idea.” Anna rolls her eyes, standing from her bed. She goes to pick up her suitcase, only for Olaf to slap her hand away and pick it up for her. She smiles, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Plus, you pack so much I’m not even sure you have the ability to carry this.” He jabs, stalking towards the door.

“I didn’t even pack that much!” Anna huffs, grabbing her purse and green reefer coat from the end of her bed. Olaf disappears through the door without another word as Anna places her reefer coat over her navy overalls and white-and-black striped sweater.

Her purse hangs on her shoulder as she walks towards the door. Anna sighs, glancing around her room, flicking off the overhead light and closing the door behind her. She makes her way downstairs, her hand sliding against the polished wood railing, expecting to see Kristoff standing in the foyer with his arms crossed.

Instead, Hans stands in the foyer next to Olaf, staring up at her with a grin and a bouquet of roses in his hand.

“Hello.” Her fiancé’s voice rings throughout the old house.

“Hi!” Anna beams down at the auburn-haired man, tripping on the last step of the stairs and catching herself on the bannister before falling on her hands and knees. Hans chuckles at her catch, shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up this morning.”

“of course, I’m going to say goodbye to you.” He shrugs, taking a step forward. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, Hans lingers near her ear, whispering. “You left so early this morning; I didn’t get to give you a proper goodbye.”

Anna feels her flush at his comment as he flashes her a smile. “W-well I’m glad you came.”

“These are for you.” He hands the roses to her, which she takes, burying her nose into the flower closest to her.

“They’re lovely!” She beams up at him, somewhat saddened that she’ll have to leave them behind. “I’ll put these in water.”

Anna withdraws from the foyer, her fiancé following after her into the kitchen. She pushes on the swinging kitchen door with her shoulder, flashing a smile at him as she backs up into the room. Hans stands against the wall next to the door, watching Anna as she places the flowers on the counter temporarily.

“Is um…what is his name?” Hans pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to recall the other man’s name.

“Kristoff.” Anna answers, standing on her tiptoes to grabs a crystal vase from a high shelf.

“Right, Kristoff. Has he arrived yet?” The auburn-haired man inquires, folding his arms across his chest.

“No, he hasn’t. I thought I heard him honk, but I must’ve been someone else. I have the feeling he would be banging down the door if it had been him.” Anna responds, turning on the tap to fill the vase with water. Hans simply chuckles at that, glancing around the small kitchen as she unwraps the flowers and places them into the water.

“Well, I’m glad to see the Nazi will enjoy my flowers on her dining room table while you’re gone.” Hans comments, changing the subject. Anna rolls her eyes, turning to her fiancé to scold him. In the corner of her eye, Gerda stands in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. Her eyes narrowed at the young man.

“Anna, your other American is here.” The older woman announces, shuffling through the kitchen to take the flowers from Anna as she mutters. “Calling me a Nazi in my own home, fucking Yankee.”

Anna snorts in response to Gerda’s not so quiet mutterings, glancing back to her fiancé with a smirk. “You deserve that.”

“I know I do.” Hans sighs, opening the kitchen door for his fiancé, following after her into the foyer. Kristoff stands in front of the door, making small talk with Olaf as he waits. The blonde turn towards the couple, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

Kristoff offers her a polite smile, standing up straight. “Are you ready?”

“Yes…” Anna trails off, surprised that he didn’t immediately snap at her for making him wait. She and Hans inch closer to Olaf and Kristoff, preparing to say goodbye to her fiancé and best friend. “Hans, this is Kristoff. Kristoff, this is my fiancé Hans.”

“Nice to meet you.” Kristoff states, extending his hand out to Hans, who accepts the gesture. The auburn-haired man smiles at the other man.

“You’re American.” Hans states, grinning.

“Uh…yeah, I am,” Kristoff responds with an awkward smile.

“I’m from Arlington. What about you?” Hans inquires, clearly pleased with running into a fellow patriot, travelling with his fiancé.

“Ah, Sheridan.” Kristoff blinks, his gaze flickering at Anna briefly. He had tried to disclose as little information about himself to Anna as possible. She is about to insert herself in the conversation, not needing to know her escort’s personal life but is interrupted as Hans holds a hand up.

Hans’s brows furrow in confusion, trying to recall the name of the city. “I’m not familiar with that name. What state?”

Kristoff clears his throat, saying almost inaudibly. “Wyoming.” Anna stares up at Kristoff with knitted brows. She had no idea such a place could exist.

“Oh… I’ve never been,” Hans says politely, quickly adding. “But I’ve heard it is quite beautiful.”

“It’s nice…I guess.” Kristoff nods. The two men stare at one another quietly, neither of them knowing what to say. Anna glances between the two men, figuring out if they are finished with their odd exchange.

“This is very awkward,” Olaf announces to the room, playing with the buttons of his gray peacoat. Anna slowly turns to her friend with a small smirk, shaking her head in disbelief at him. She glances back toward Kristoff with raised brows.

“Are we all ready?” Anna clasps her hands together.

“Yes! We are.” Kristoff announces. She nods, walking over to where Olaf had discarded her suitcase. Kristoff is the first to leave the house, going to start the car for their long journey. Anna follows the large blonde outside, while Hans and Olaf remain in the foyer.

As she exits on the street, she glances to see Kristoff standing in front of a truck, an old one. Looking at Kristoff in horror, she begins to shake her head. “No, no, no, no. You did not tell me about that.”

She points at his green ford truck, the metal around the wheels beginning to rust and ready to break down at any moment. Kristoff glances back at the truck with wooden slates making up the truck bed’s edge. “What? It’s fine.”

“That is not fine. That.” She points to the truck, puttering. “Is barely a vehicle.”

“Oh, Jesus. It’ll be fine.” Kristoff takes the suitcase from her, carrying it to the truck. Anna stares at the car; she hadn’t been expecting this. He is about to place her bag into the bed, but she calls out to him. “Wait! Is there like a little space behind the front seats?”

“Why?” Kristoff cocks a brow as Anna takes the suitcase from him with force. Opening the door, Anna comes face-to-face with a large brown Irish wolfhound. The dog stares at the woman in front of him, lifting his head from the seat of the car.

“Oh, hello.” Anna greets, reaching out to scratch the dog under his chin. She begins to panic as the massive dog shifts forward, attempting to leave the truck.

“Sven, stay,” Kristoff calls, standing behind the woman in case the dog made his escape. The wolfhound looks at his owner with wide eyes before laying back on the seat. Anna raises her suitcase over the seats, placing her suitcase in a small space behind the front, which holds another bag.

Anna turns away from the car, nearly running into Kristoff, still standing behind her with his hand resting on the door. She stares up at the man wide-eyed. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, I’m…sorry,” Kristoff repeats, sidestepping out of the woman’s way. Anna walks back towards the building as Olaf and Hans emerge onto the street. She hears the car door slam behind her; glancing behind her, she sees Kristoff walking around the truck.

Anna approaches Olaf with a smile, throwing her arms around his neck without any hesitation as she states. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“Me too.” Olaf chuckles, withdrawing from his friend. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Absolutely!” Anna beams up at him, squeezing his hands before reluctantly letting go of her friend. She turns to her fiancé with a smile, allowing herself to be swept up in his embrace as he crushes his lips to hers. She gasps in surprise as he dips her slightly, making her grasp the lapels of his jacket in case his hold around her waist were to falter.

Hans pulls away from her with a smile, as Anna feels her head spin. He tucks her hair behind her ear as he cups her cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She responds, placing her hands over his. They stare at one another tenderly as Hans runs his thumbs against her cheekbones. “I’ll be home in 2 weeks.”

“I know.” Hans nods. “I’ll have our travel arrangement for home ready then.”

She nods, standing on her tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, lingering as she doesn’t want to pull away from him just yet. But Anna knows she has to. Reluctantly, she pulls away with a sigh, peering up at him.

“Goodbye.” Her hand lingers in his for a moment as she walks away from him. Only detaching as she walks an arm’s length away from him. She opens the car door, glancing at the dog sitting on the seat next to Kristoff and her own.

Anna slips into the seat, closing the door hard with her purse on her lap. Immediately the interior of the car smells like the dog’s breath and is humid. Kristoff turns the wheel as Anna glances out the fogging window, waving to her fiancé and best friend as her driver pulls away.

As they pull onto Charlotte street, Sven whines, staring at Anna with wide eyes shifting closer to her until his head rests on her lap. Kristoff glances down at his dog, patting his bottom before re-focusing his attention on the road.

“You’re in his spot.”

“Oh, is that right?” Anna coos, scratching the hound’s head and behind his ears. “I’m sorry, but you’re such a good boy. Aren’t you Sven?”

Sven begins to wag his tail, hitting Kristoff in the process. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, rubbing one spot behind Sven’s ear. She stares out on the street, her heart pounding in her chest as it finally hits her.

She is finally doing this. She is once and for all going to bring Elsa home.

[richiefuckfacetozier]

Why Can't This Be Love

Chapter 1: Here It Comes

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Click to read on Archive 

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Title - Why Can't This Be Love by Van Halen

Dedicated to @slashpalooza and @sam-i-am2468

___

Eddie’s Tuesday started out as it normally did. Half a grapefruit for breakfast, thoroughly shower, text his best friend, Richie, a stupid meme, call Mike to confirm lunch for tomorrow, work from 8am to 6pm, and come home to pour himself a glass of wine. 

Right now he was pouring 4 glasses because around 3:00pm, Beverly called asking if her and Ben could come by to tell him something exciting and that Richie had to be there too. He was not sure what they could possibly want to talk about with the two of them. Eddie tried to push down the anxiety that they might be angry about something. He was pretty sure he didn’t do anything horrible recently, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Richie! Can you help me?” Eddie shouted from the kitchen of his apartment. “I don’t have enough hands to carry everything!”

“Coming, my love!” Richie joked annoyingly. Although Eddie didn’t find it entirely annoying, it’s just Richie being ridiculous. 

His tall friend padded into the kitchen wearing his worn out leather jacket that he thought made him look cool, a print shirt with a meme on it that Eddie didn’t get, and jeans, “I know what they are going to tell us.” Richie stated confidently with a little bounce in his step. 

“Did they tell you already? That’s not fair!” Eddie said in frustration. “They couldn’t wait two more damn minutes?”

“No, I have a guess, Eds.” 

“Don’t call me Eds.”

“I think Ben finally got the courage to propose to Beverly.” Richie went on with a smile. “Or she grabbed him by the balls and told him to do it.”

Eddie snorted at the imagery and wouldn’t put it past Bev to be that aggressive but probably wouldn’t to the love of her life. “That’s wonderful if it’s the news.” 

“I bet you 50 bucks it is,” Richie challenged, “Ben was looking mighty anxious at Bill’s wedding a year ago.” 

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, “I barely remember Bill’s wedding. I was so blackedout.” 

Richie rolled his eyes dramatically, “You were stupidly mourning the loss of Myra the hydra.” Eddie cringed at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. 

“Be nice, Rich.” Eddie frowned. He pulled out a packet of thin mint girl scout cookies for all of them to snack on.  

Richie rolled his eyes as he sipped quickly from the glass of wine, clearly not finished speaking, “I don’t know why either. She was a carbon copy of your mother. Her leaving was the best thing to ever happen to you.” 

“Yes, being extremely single has done wonders for my self-esteem.” Eddie mumbled.

Richie leaned over and flicked Eddie’s nose, “You’re a catch, dummy.” 

He yelped, rubbing his nose and getting goosebumps from their intensely close position. Eddie grabbed the other two glasses, thin mints and turned on his heel to walk out of the kitchen. “Fine, 50 bucks it isn’t an engagement.” 

“Sweet! Also, those pants look good on you.” Richie pointed out following from behind him. 

Eddie’s cheeks heated up a little, he purposely wore these dark navy blue jeans because Richie always compliments them. He wondered if Richie remembered that he did this every time. Eddie doubted it. When it was just the two of them, Richie constantly tried to make Eddie feel special and wanted. Eddie suspected Richie did it because he felt sorry for him, but he couldn’t be sure. Despite knowing his best friend pretty well, he was also a huge enigma. Constantly says whatever is on his mind, does the most spontaneous - borderline suicidal - things, and keeps a smile on his face no matter what he may be feeling. 

They plop down on the couch in Eddie’s living room. His place was what Richie called a ‘clean mess’, probably the best description of Eddie ever said. He had the habit of hoarding things he didn’t really need. Piles of books on every table that he had already read, knick-knacks from trips, more candles than any one person needed on all open surfaces. He had really nice furniture that matched well in a blend of warm colors. Beverly and Ben sat in two mahogany chairs across from them, holding hands. 

Eddie placed the wine glasses on monster movie poster coasters that Richie gifted him years ago when they were teens. They grew up together and remained close throughout the years, regardless of college or moving around. In fact, Eddie had six very close friends from childhood. The group called themselves the Losers Club, a title courtesy of Richie. 

“Thanks, Eddie!” Beverly said nicely. Ben thanked him too. Richie sat beside Eddie, the side of their thighs touching as he scooted closer to hand him wine. Eddie always felt so comfortable around all his friends, they were the only ones he let be touchy with him. He used to hate germs and be easily disgusted by everything, but when the people he was closest with shared food, drinks, and beds with him, that feeling went away gradually. 

“Alright, lads,” Richie started up with a newsies kid accent. “What’s the scoop? Striking Pulitzer again?” 

“Well,” Ben’s round cheeks turned pink as he said, “We’ve got pretty big news.” Eddie observed Ben take both Beverly’s hands into his own big ones. 

Beverly was practically jumping in her seat, her flamming red short curls bouncing against the sides of her face. She shared a big smile with Ben as she blurted out, “WE ARE GETTING MARRIED!”

“FUCK YES!” Richie shouted. He flew off the couch tackling Beverly in a huge hug. 

“Please, don’t hurt my girlfrie-I mean fiancé.” Ben said softly, clearly surprised how much he enjoyed calling her that. 

Eddie got up to hug Ben tightly, saying congratulations. Beverly kissed both men before they sat back down. Eddie raised his glass. “Cheers, to two people who’s friendship, romance, and love are unparalleled.” 

They clinked glasses and drank. Richie bumped Eddie lightly, “Cheers to owing me $50.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie nodded toward the counter. “You can grab it from my wallet before you go home.” 

“You can just buy me dinner this weekend.” Richie waved his hand.

“So Rich, you know what me getting married also means?” Beverly’s eyes shined brightly at him. He looked between her and Ben, thinking. Then dawning flashed on his face. He put his glass down and stood on the couch. 

“Richie, no!” Eddie pleaded desperately. “You are going to fall! Idiot!” 

He jumped up and down like a child discovering Christmas came early. “I AM GOING TO BE DUDE OF HONOR!” 

They all laughed at his excitement. One of the things the losers club decided in their 20’s, after a particularly ugly fight about who would be who’s best man or ‘dude of honor’ in this case, was that each of them would take turns. 

So far, Bill and Stanley had gotten married. To two incredible women, Audra and Patty. Eddie was Bill’s and Bill was Stan’s best man. The rest of the sequence goes: Mike is Richie’s, Richie is Bev’s, Bev is Eddie’s, Stan is Ben’s, and Ben is Mike’s. Mike is fairly confident he won’t get married and neither will Richie, which he says is for the best as he is far too stressed as a person to get married or be a best man. 

Eddie recalled that a huge fight he had with Myra was over Beverly being his Best Woman. She shouted at him for hours that there was no reason a woman should be when he had all these guy friends. Explaining the losers club deal to her did nothing but place fuel on the fire. ‘Sometimes I think you love them more than me!’ Looking back, he most certainly did. Eddie was fairly certain he would always love the losers most in this world. Which furthered the cycle of being horribly single. Sometimes he thought he was in a polyamorous asexual relationship with 6 other people. They were too close.

Richie finished up his jumping and landed on the couch half on Eddie. “OW!” Eddie yelled. “That fucking hurt. You aren’t light enough to plop all your weight on me.” 

Richie slung an arm over Eddie’s shoulders and kissed the side of his face. “Sorry, Eds.”

Eddie wiped his face that got kissed on Richie’s shoulder, pretending to get the germs off. “Have you told everyone else?” 

“We have…” Ben begun slowly. Eddie didn’t like the tone he was using. “Stanley’s already started his best man duties.”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell us you’re getting married altogether like Bill and Stan did?” Richie said, seeming to also realize this was odd. 

“Because we have to ask a favor of you.” Ben brought his hand up to start biting his nails the way he did when he was about to deliver bad news. 

“Favor is too nice, babe. This is not a favor or a request. It is a requirement if you both want to be at this wedding.” Beverly let go of Ben’s hand to place it on her knee. She rubbed her thighs once, gearing up to tell them. Eddie had a couple guesses about what she may want to say but nothing prepared him for what it actually was, “You have to bring a date.” 

Eddie leaned back in confusion, realizing Richie’s arm was still around him so it brought them both laying back against the couch. Richie removed his arm and started fidgeting with his fingers. Eddie worried his bottom lip before saying quietly, “Why?” 

Beverly looked to Eddie with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Eddie, but we don’t want a repeat of Stan and Bill’s weddings.”

Eddie’s face immediately turned red with embarrassment. Three years ago, Stanley got married and that was around when he left his mother’s place for the third time. A year later, Bill got married and he had his break up with Myra. On both occasions, Eddie took a bad combination of too many pills and drinking more than he ever had in his life. Resulting in major blackouts and behavior he cannot remember but knows second hand from everyone what happened.

“Why do we both have to have dates?” Richie said, voice a little strained and weird.

Beverly rounded on him with no sympathy. “Because, Richard, when YOU go to weddings you fuck everyone and break shit. A date will keep you focused on that person and not be a chaotic monster with a death wish.”

Richie laughed, “If I want to be fucked by all your bridesmaids at the same time then I should be allowed to do that!”

Beverly’s voice rose higher, “That’s literally not possible, asshole! And the only bridesmaid is Kay McCall.” 

“Damn. Kay’s beautiful but I don’t screw married women.” Richie’s face scrunched up. “Does that make her a bride’s matron?”

“High morals there Richie,” Ben said trying to lighten the mood.

“You know it Ben Handsome.” He winked. 

Eddie sat there trying to word what he wanted to say carefully. As Richie continued to dig himself a deeper hole, “We are getting off-topic. I’m saying if I want to have sex with someone and have a little fun or if Eddie wants to get so drunk he mistakes your grandma for a urinal, then we should have that right.” 

This brings Eddie back, “Richie!” 

“What? Nana Denbrough thought she was at a waterpark. You’re fine.” 

He put his hands on his face and folded forward. Richie scratched his back soothingly but didn’t stop trying to defend himself. Beverly eventually got so fed up that she pulled out her phone and played a video from YouTube. 

“Exhibit A, Bill and Audra’s wedding.” She said viciously. 

Eddie groaned as he raised his head to watch the screen. Bill’s younger brother Georgie had filmed people talking about Bill and Audra. He put the most unfortunate video, starring Eddie and Richie, on the internet for the world to see. 

Video Eddie looked miserable and spaced out. Georgie had to say his name three times before Eddie looked up and hiccuped. “Oh hey, Georgie!” Video Eddie said enthusiastically. “Having fun kiddo?” 

“I’m 21, Eddie. Not really a kid anymore.” Georgie’s voice said laughing. 

“Stay a kid forever,” Eddie begged him.

“Ok, Eddie. What do you want to say to Bill and Audra?” 

“Bill...I want you to know that you are the bravest man alive and I would die for you. Audra, you better be good to him.” Video Eddie points at the camera and almost falls forward. Suddenly, video Richie appears, catching him. He giggles bopping video Richie on the nose and keeping his face precariously close to video Richie’s face. 

Video Eddie frowns suddenly and looks back at the camera, “But don’t fall too too in love. You might get your heart broken like me. Love is dumb. Women are dumb. They don’t really care about you.” 

Video Richie had his hair slicked back and was laughing at video Eddie’s truths, “Eds! This day isn’t about you. It’s about Bill and Audra. We should be telling stories about them!”

“Oh god,” Eddie said as his stomach turned reliving the next part again. 

“So Audra, let me tell you about Bill’s first time. He had a girlfriend in high school, blonde and pretty, much like yourself and they were dating for about…” 

Video Eddie hiccups, “4 months.” Then smashes his face into video Richie’s neck. “You smell like whiskey.” He winces.

Video Richie laughed, cheeks reddening from drunkenness, “Thank you, Eds. When they decided to fuck for the first time, he got everything all set and she came over that evening. As he was eating her out.” 

“Richie, kids could see this.” Video Georgie warned through obvious laughter.

“As Bill was going downtown on her hoo-hoo she got a little too excited and shat the bed.” All three men were shrieking with laughter. Video Eddie wrapped his arms around video Richie, shaking uncontrollably with glee. Despite the horribleness of the situation, Eddie smiled a little. “Now it’s unclear where all the crap ended up but we can guess that…”

Beverly stopped the video glaring at Richie intently. Eddie looked at him and he only smiled. “We won’t even get into the nuclear mess that was Stanley and Patti Uris’s wedding right now. But we want you both to have a date so there is no chance of you completely embarrassing me, Ben, and yourselves.” 

Eddie scoffed, “Richie embarrasses himself on every date he goes on. What makes you think one brought to the wedding will be any better?” 

“Oh yeah?” Richie gazed at him steadily. Eddie braced himself for the incoming insult. As much as he could dish it, he rarely could take it. Especially against Richie’s quick tongue, “And when was the last time you even fucking went on a date to embarrass yourself?” 

“I can get dates!” 

“A night alone with your right hand isn’t a date.”

“Shut the fuck up, Trashmouth!” 

Suddenly, two armchair pillows smacked the side of Eddie and Richie’s heads. They both rounded on Beverly and Ben but the stare of death Beverly was giving stopped their prepared protests. 

“If you assholes want to come to my wedding,”

“Our wedding…” Ben whispered.

She turned her ever reddening face, almost the color of her hair, at her financé, “Not if you correct me, Benjamin! Don’t make me marry myself!” She focused back on Eddie and Richie, pointing a bitten nail at them menacingly. “...you will have dates and BEHAVE at the reception or so help me, I’ll castrate you!” 

There was a pregnant pause broken by the one who can never stay quiet long. “What about the ceremony?” Richie responded, “Can I at least ruin that?”

She stared at him, everyone ready for more yelling but instead she broke into a gorgeous smile and laughed. It lightened the moment but Eddie didn’t find he felt any less anxious. He fully contemplated this enormous request from his friends. Finding a good wedding date took time, he only ever had committed relationships. Well, the one with Myra. As much as Richie’s words hurt, he was right. Eddie didn’t go on dates. People didn’t tend to find him datable. “Too short, too high maintenance, too weird” were just a few of the flaws that consumed him. He had no clue how he was expected to get someone to go to this wedding with him. 

The four of them started discussing wedding details, Beverly and Richie talking a mile a minute about everything that had to get done. He was especially excited to plan a bachelorette party. With how much money Ben and Bev make, it sounded like they would get their dream wedding easily. 

Eddie was thrilled for them but that pang of being single and now having to find a date was eating him alive for the two more hours they stayed. When they finally called it a night, Beverly and Ben hugged them promising to talk tomorrow. 

Richie did not follow them out which meant he wanted to drink and talk more, probably spend the night there. Eddie had a guest room that was essentially Richie’s room since he spent the most time there. 

“You want ice cream?” Richie shouted from the kitchen where he was most likely opening another bottle of wine. 

“With chocolate syrup!” Eddie yelled back. 

“Oh, chocolate syrup night means major troubles.” Richie laughed. 

“What are we gonna do Rich?” Eddie whined miserably. “Or rather, what the fuck am I going to do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“About the fucking dates!” Eddie laid sideways on the couch, grabbing the cushion pillow and placing it over his face to scream into. 

“Don’t be a drama queen.” Richie said. The couch shifted as he sat down by Eddie’s legs. 

“That’s easy for you to say.” Eddie mumbled into the pillow. 

Two hands extracted the pillow from his face. Eddie kept his eyes scrunched closed. “I can’t speak pillow.” 

Eddie huffed out, “It’s easy for you to not be worried. You are a serial dater.” 

“Open your eyes, Eds.” Richie chuckled. Eddie opened them to pout childishly at him.

He had his smirky smile on, which could only mean he had a terrible idea. “I have a great idea to get us out of getting actual dates.”

Eddie stared at him from his laid down position, probably giving Richie an unattractive double chin, “There is no loophole in this agreement, Rich. Beverly was really fucking clear. We have to have dates.” 

“And we will.” Richie poured wine into both their glasses. He handed it to Eddie, forcing him to sit up in order to drink it. While Eddie drank normally, Richie downed his quickly then licked his lips. 

“Who am I gonna have to take to Ben and Beverly’s wedding?”

Richie watched him carefully, opened his mouth and said, “You’ll take me. I will be your wedding date. And by default, you will be mine” Eddie’s mouth dropped and Richie clinked his empty glass with Eddie’s full one.

______________________

In honor of IT: Chapter 2 coming out soon, I have begun writing this fake dating idea! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, comment here or on archive and let me know your thoughts and feels! The title is thanks to Slashpalooza on tumblr who asked me a million years ago to write something with this title!

Tag List (Starting a new tag list since I don’t know who is still around in the fandom. Let me know if you want to be tagged):

@sarah011 @pan-ini @frankeeenstein @sam-i-am2468 @eds-kas @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @roobarrtrashmouth @hypnoidvoid @imeddie @slashpalooza @reddieforlove 

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter 11

Summary: The Inner Circle rings in the New Year. Notes: Read it here on AO3! Warnings: brief mention of (implied) self-harm scars, themes of depression Bittersweet Masterlist

“I fucking hate the holidays,” was Emerie’s greeting to Nesta a couple days after Christmas.

Nesta glanced up from the drinkware she was cleaning to watch Emerie hang her jacket on the hanger in a huff. Her raven hair was pulled back in a loose braid, her eyes lined thickly with kohl and mascara. Nesta couldn’t help but smirk with amusement. “I take it seeing the family didn’t go well?”

Emerie snapped her head to glare into Nesta’s eyes. “They spent all of Hannukah lecturing me about doing something else with my life, something more respectable than 'slinging drinks around a dirty bar,’” she recalled with air quotes, her lip curled in disgust.  

Nesta dried the last glass. She threw the towel on the counter and turned to face her coworker. Crossing her arms, Nesta inquired, “And your response was?”

“I threatened to go into sex work.”

Nesta quirked a brow. “I thought you already worked at Euphoria on the weekends. If I recall correctly, you invited me to watch one of your performances.”

“Yes, Nesta, I'm aware that I'm already a stripper. That's the beauty of it. I threaten to join an even more unconventional line of work so they will accept my moderately unconventional job. They would much rather I bartend than strip.”

Nesta snorted. “I can’t argue with that logic.”

Before Emerie could try to convince Nesta to visit her at Euphoria again, Helion swooped in from behind them. He planted a loud kiss on Emerie's cheek. She feigned disgust, wiping the spot where his lips had been. Turning to him, Emerie smacked his chest playfully.

"Hello to you, too. You look ravishing," Helion wiggled his eyebrows with a wolfish grin.

Emerie rolled her eyes. "I'm immune to your charm, Helion. You should know that by now."

Helion gave her a questionable look that said, You sure about that?

He then turned his attention to Nesta with a grin and took a step forward - most likely to try to kiss her cheek as well - but he was quickly met with a death glare. He did this every time he came into work, and Nesta always rejected his affection. She had to admit he had balls for not giving it up.

Then again, he was a certifiable slut.

Helion's hands were raised in surrender when he turned to address both of them.

“I see you ladies are falling behind," he said, nodding his head to the current score of their little competition. Helion had titled the game, "Who's Got the Biggest Tip?" with an obscene drawing next to it.

Nesta looked behind her at the chalkboard. She was in last place.

The tip competition hadn’t even crossed Nesta’s mind. What with college, Tomas, and family, she wasn’t quite prioritizing the opportunity to man the music at Rita’s. Free booze on the other hand... that she could get with.

“Hey, I’m not that far behind you!” Emerie protested. “It’s Nesta who’s lagging behind.”

They both turned to her. Nesta merely stood there as they inspected her, Helion rubbing his chin in contemplation while Emerie tilted her head as if she would see something different horizontally.

“I’m not entirely surprised,” quipped Helion. “I mean, she’s gorgeous, but if looks could kill…”

Emerie hummed in agreement. She gestured to Nesta’s chest. “The uniform does wonders for her tits. It’s just once you get to the face. The hair can be let down, maybe pinch some color on her cheeks.”

Nesta continued to give them a blank stare. She was highly unamused.

“Don’t forget the smile,” Helion chimed in.

“How could I forget? Gods, her resting bitch face is even worse than mine.”

"There's potential, though."

"Undoubtedly."

Before the mischievous duo decided to go all "Miss Congeniality" on her, Nesta interrupted their daydream. “Are you guys done?”

Her question brought them back to reality. Helion sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Time to make some tips."

With that, the three of them got to work. Throughout the night, Nesta found herself trying to smile more. At customers, at Emerie and Helion. But every time she managed to pull her lips up, an invisible weight seemed to drag them back down to a deep frown.

Smiling had never been so hard.

They were celebrating New Year’s Eve at Feyre and Rhysand’s place. Nesta hadn’t been looking forward to it considering they had all just gotten together on Christmas Day. Seeing her sister’s asshole of a boyfriend and her infuriating neighbor biweekly was enough for her, thank you very much.

The night was uneventful. Elain had volunteered to be the designated driver, so Nesta took the opportunity to have more than just a couple drinks. By the time the clock struck 11:30, Nesta was far gone. She rarely ever got drunk in social situations, instead choosing to get fucked up in the comfort of her own home. The last thing she wanted was to lose control and do something she would regret the next morning.

But all those worries were thrown out the window the minute she had her first sip of liquor.

Nesta hated the phenomenon of New Year’s resolutions. She hated the idea of self-reflection, of changing, of setting a personal goal. It was bullshit. She felt this obligation to be better. To change into an entirely different person, someone sensitive and warm and outgoing. In other words, someone - anyone - except for herself. It was suffocating.

So as Nesta downed drink after drink, she watched the people around her – she doesn’t quite consider them friends, save for Amren – waiting for the new year to begin. Particularly Elain and Azriel.

Since Elain confessed her feelings for Azriel to Nesta – though some may say Nesta forced Elain to spill the beans – Nesta had been watching them like a hawk. Elain hadn’t yet been in a relationship, at least to Nesta’s knowledge. Perhaps that was why Nesta felt so protective over her sister. That, or because she was the most gentle person Nesta knew.

Nesta didn’t know much about Azriel. Their conversations had been scarce. All she really knew was what Elain told her. He had grown up across the street from Cassian and Rhysand, and the three of them had been thick as thieves since childhood. While Rhysand attended Pryth U and Cassian joined the Marines, Azriel stayed home after graduating high school to take care of their mother, much like Elain with their father. But their mother died just a few months after the three boys graduated. After working a couple minimum wage jobs, Azriel founded a local animal shelter a couple years ago with his friend and since then, his entire life had been dedicated to it.

From what Nesta could tell, Azriel seemed like a good man. But she could tell he still struggled with things from the past. And it wasn’t just the scars on his hands that gave it away. Feyre had briefly mentioned to Nesta that Azriel had gotten in trouble with the law many times in his younger years. Although Feyre didn't elaborate on his wrongdoings, Nesta couldn't help but imagine the worst.

Nesta would be lying if she said she didn't see similarities between herself and Azriel. The scars, the haunted looks, the guarded demeanor. And because she knew that there was no way she could possibly be in a healthy, functioning relationship, she had a feeling that Azriel couldn't either. It was painfully clear that he hadn’t yet dealt with whatever trauma he’d experienced. If he were to get into a relationship with Elain, it would only end in heartbreak for her.

Nesta watched from the kitchen table as Elain and Azriel played the Wii. Nesta could tell just by Elain’s body language that she was smitten. Her entire body leaned towards his when they sat next to each other to take a break from their “bowling” competition. And while Azriel engaged with her, Nesta noticed the hesitance in his expression, the way he shied away when Elain got too close. Almost like it was a reflex.

Nesta's hand twitched. She wanted to interfere.

It’s Elain’s life, Nesta reminded herself. As much as you worry, she has to be the one to make her own decisions.

With that uneasy thought, Nesta relaxed back into the kitchen chair she was sitting on and took a large gulp from the mixed drink she held. Everyone was mingling in the living room as Nesta watched from the breakfast bar. All their backs were facing her, offering her the slightest bit of solace knowing that no one was paying attention to her.

She hadn't seen much of Cassian tonight. They both seemed to be holding themselves to their agreement to distance themselves from one another. He seemed perfectly content to stay out of Nesta's way, and Nesta felt the same. She just couldn't help but be surprised he hadn't tried to get a rise out of her.

At least, not yet. There was always time.

Nesta loathed the way Cassian was able to get under her skin, hated the way he made her feel. She didn't understand it. He was virtually a stranger and yet he made her blood boil. And all because he found it entertaining to watch her lose control? Gods, he was twisted.

As the thirty-second countdown began, the couples paired off. Mor grabbed Aurra until nothing separated them. Feyre leaned against the wall and Rhysand rested his hands above her head. That only left Azriel, Elain, Nesta, Cassian, and Amren.

Cassian and Amren remained seated on the couch that was directly in front of Nesta. Amren was whispering to him, no doubt making fun of every couple in the room. They laughed together. Then of course, Azriel turned to Elain with a shy smile.

And that left Nesta sitting alone at the bar, her drink half empty. Her glazed over eyes followed Elain and Azriel.

Ten.

They looked at each other.

Nine.

Azriel took a couple steps closer.

Seven.

Azriel dipped his head to Elain’s ear and whispered something.

Five.

Elain blushed. She looked up at him and nodded with a smile.

Three.

Azriel gripped her waist with one hand and pulled her in.

Two.

Elain melted into his touch.

One.

They stared deeply into each other’s eyes.

Zero.

Azriel pressed a soft kiss on Elain’s cheek. She closed her eyes as if she were trying to savor it, to hold onto that moment for as long as she could. Azriel’s lips reluctantly left her cheek, only for him to lean his forehead on her temple. Their chests rose and fell heavily, their breath seemingly in sync. They remained like that for a moment, both unwilling to let go of one another. It wasn’t until Rhysand hooted, “Happy New Year,” that Azriel broke away from her and re-entered the present. Eyes wide, all they could do was blink at each other, the air between them palpable with uncertainty and excitement and pain and hope.

Everyone around them was cheering. It was almost too loud for Nesta. Her ears rang.

As everyone around them laughed and yelled, Cassian looked behind his shoulder from where he sat and his eyes met Nesta’s.

They looked at each other for the briefest of seconds before Nesta flipped him off.

Nesta could've sworn Cassian's eyes brightened before he returned the gesture.

---------------------------------

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@sjmships​ @sleeping-and-books​ @sirgwaines​ @books-for-sure​ @blowing-mikey​ @b00kworm​ @wineywitch202​ @drielecarla​ @liquifyme​ @gisellefigue08​ @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter​ @loysydark​ @stardelia​ @sayosdreams​ @maastrash​ @superspiritfestival​ @courtofjurdan​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @thewayshedreamed @booksstorm​ @laylaameer01​ @rainbowcheetah512​

[fluffnstuffq]

Overdue Update (Important!!)

So.. it’s been a while since I’ve written a long “essay” type post here..

Sadly, this isn’t a discussion about alterhumanity. I… have some things to admit, to explain my absence and such. 

Please try to read all the way through. If anything is misunderstood or unclear, I will try my best to answer any questions on the matter.

In around mid-October, the activity on my kin blog dropped off, and while I apologize sincerely for that sudden impromptu hiatus, I felt that I should at least clarify a few things before formally returning.

Recently, I came to the conclusion that I am plural. Specifically, a traumagenic system with four members as of now.

I’ve always been a system despite not initially realizing it (or at least have been since early childhood), don’t get me wrong. I just began really realizing something was off slowly throughout the course of the summer/fall. 

Sudden lapses in my sense of time/train of thought accompanied by my mannerisms/speech patterns/personality just seeming to change drastically. I had no idea what was happening, and admittedly, these lapses caused me great distress that spilled over into my everyday interactions with others. I was more on edge, more paranoid, all around stressed for a long while, wondering “why can’t I control myself in confrontations, why don’t I know who I am?”. 

For a while, I even dropped the name “Qwerty” because I didn’t feel like I even was Qwerty anymore..

And in a way, how right I was.

As you may know, around mid-June, I began identifying as otherkin/fictionkin, with three kintypes (Blixer, Marx from the Kirby series, and some sort of cryptid/alien). Like many otherkin, I experience mental and phantom shifts, as well as “past life memories” varying in vividness and detail. I still identify as Blixerkin and cryptid/alienkin (not entirely sure yet, to this day) and still get shifts as well as occasional memories/noema for them.

However, from the start, my supposed Marx kintype was always a tad off from the rest. In Marx “shifts”, fundamental parts of my personality and even morals changed; my very sense of identity became blurred. “I” became more argumentative, impulsive, even spiteful at times. It was far beyond just different parts of my own personality being amplified/dulled.

These so-called shifts, unlike the others, were always accompanied by a bout of dissociation. Everything was so foggy and distant, like I wasn’t in control of myself, like I was watching myself from behind a screen. I had enough consciousness to be able to essentially “internally scream at myself” to stop or change my actions if things went badly while in that “foggy” state, but it took immense willpower to even attempt to outright stop it myself. 

And while I didn’t experience outright memory loss, after said “lapses” ended, I often found myself unable to sort through my thought process. If someone asked why I’d done/said something in that state, later on I’d be unable to recall my own train of thought, my own reasoning. Thus, for a while I felt utterly lost and confused, as well as frustrated with myself for things I felt I had no control over. Getting into arguments… losing or nearly losing friends… I felt hopeless. I felt like a monster. Out of control.

At first, I assumed these lapses to be merely severe, stress induced mood swings that happened to fall in line with mental shifts. I knew they were Marx; though I thought that it was just a kintype, thought they were still inherently me. However, as time went on and these so-called shifts became more frequent and longer lasting, I began to notice odd quirks. Early in October, a particularly long lasting “Marx shift” completely turned my sense of identity on its head. 

Different preferred pronouns and name, different interests, sudden and intense cravings for sweets and candy (I personally can’t stand sugar, so this was the biggest shock, desiring cinnamon rolls and ice cream every minute). I’m also normally very much obsessed with keeping my diction and grammar as neat as possible. However, in this state, those who I talked to could probably attest to the fact that, for a while, that grammar had gone down utterly the drain. Lowercase letters, run-on sentences, no punctuation. This state even seemed to have differing/conflicting opinions from me; in this state “I” preferred the company of different people, spoke much more bluntly, and my empathy levels went from hyper-empathetic to… well, decidedly not. 

I felt entirely, utterly like Marx. It wasn’t a shift, it wasn’t merely a change in perception. The previous perception just.. kind of went out the window entirely. The normal homesickness became all-encompassing. The normal “nonhuman” feelings reached distressing levels.

Everything that made me “Qwerty” had just kind of.. Flipped. It scared me.

I’d never felt like that in a mental shift for my other kintypes. In a Blitz shift, I was still fundamentally me, still myself, just a little more excitable and friendly. And if need be, I could usually snap out of it. Kintypes are supposed to still be you, after all. You’re not supposed to “lose control” of yourself, even in a strong shift. Sure, it can be embarrassing/disorienting looking back at what you said while influenced by the mindset, instincts, and energy level of a kintype, but it’s still inherently yourself. 

Marx “shifts” were not. They were not “shifts” at all. I realized then that Marx was not a kintype and had never been one. Marx was not me. Marx was someone else, sharing this brain and body despite wanting no parts of it. (He’s doing a lot better now, but really, back then, he was just as panicked as I was, albeit expressing it differently.)

Between the change in identity, the lapses in memory, and the dissociation that accompanied said so-called shifts, by late October, I’d come to the conclusion that I was plural. Somehow. I will not get into it, but certain events that occurred years before during times of stress, trauma, or even just general discomfort aligned well with the behaviors of this alter. And, admittedly, I was initially a tad… afraid of this other being in my brain. It was no fun and games; I didn’t want to believe it. 

And yet, as I began to reach out, to talk to my alter, I realized, he’s not bad, he’s not a monster, neither of us are; no alters inherently are. His frustrations, his mannerisms, his actions, defense mechanisms, they were all meant to help us survive. He’s been around for years, even if not always the exact same. 

There’s four of us now, and we’re pretty solidly sure of our plurality, having known for about two and a half months now, give or take. While you likely know me best as “Qwerty”, I’m not the “real” one or the “original” or the “most important”. In fact, you’ve probably spoken to the others before on a few occasions, even before we knew we were a system. We’re technically all alters, and we’re all important to each other, as all members of a system are. (Alters should never be reduced to just “extra” or “unwanted/scary” parts, nor should they be treated like characters or a game/act, but that’s a story for another time).

We were afraid of revealing ourselves on main or any blog connected to it, so we’ve been posting on a semi-secret sideblog for the past month or so. We finally made the decision to be open about this due to the fact that it was becoming harder to keep the sideblog separate. 

We could no longer post about our alterhuman experiences because continuing to refer to Marx related things as a “kintype” would be misleading and would only make clarification harder in the future.

As all this stress built up and the fear of someone prematurely figuring out who we were rose, we finally came to the conclusion that purposely revealing what we are was the only choice.

I know that, even with all this written, I probably haven’t covered absolutely everything, so once again I’ll be willing to answer questions on the matter/clarify things, for as long as I need to. We want to make sure to prevent any possible misinterpretation.

(We’ll share the name of the sideblog as well in a bit.)

[evermorehaikyuu]

Day 6

Title: Always the Second Choice

Note: No warnings. This one kind of made me sad, I won’t lie to you, I like it. 

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

The message was clear. She never acted like it, but the way her eyes looked at him with adoration made it all obvious. He could never be him, he wasn’t him. Why would she fall for him anyways? They were just childhood friends, the guy who carried her home if she ever scraped her knee or sprained her ankle, the guy she could depend on until she moved. They kept in contact but she had found another friend in her new neighborhood and fallen for him, even though she didn’t know what her emotions were towards him at the time. It was too late.

It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault. Yuzuru knew he was always the second choice and he’d have to live with that fact for the rest of his life. 

And that’s how it went. All he could do was support her, even if it meant that the pain and hole in his chest grew by the day. Yet her happiness was his top priority, no matter who she was with. Yuzuru Komaki could only stand aside and make sure that Y/N wasn’t hurt. But in someone else’s arms, she was safe.

He only wished that he was the one holding her.

As he walked around the school after practice, he sat on a bench and stared at the sight across from him, not focusing on anything but the memories now flooding his head. No one would ever believe him if he said that he did like someone. After all, he was the calm and collected captain of Kakugawa, serious and quiet. However, he was only human.

Feelings were bound to fester.

~

“Yuzuru, this is Y/N and her mother, they’re our new neighbors.” Yuzuru’s mother had said, responding to his silent question of the strangers currently standing in his living room. A little girl around his age was hiding behind her mother’s legs, even as her mother tried to coax her out of her faux hiding place.

After finally getting her out, Y/N stood across from Yuzuru, staring at the floor in embarrassment. 

Yuzuru couldn’t say anything, afraid of scaring away this potential playmate and maybe, if the time was right, best friend. 

“What’s your name?” A tiny voice said, making him assume that it came from her as she was the only other living life form in the room. Her voice was small but melodic, immediately causing him to like her. 

“I’m Yuzuru Komaki. What’s your name?” He replied casually yet nervously. 

“Y/N L/N.” 

“So….do you want to go outside?” 

With a tiny nod, Y/N followed Yuzuru outside and that’s where they started warming up to each other and trusting each other with everything. They would talk about stuff that was going on at school and share snacks; sometimes she’d come to his house when she was alone at home and scared. Over time, he grew protective for her, standing up for her in case she ever needed aegis. 

~

“Y/N, when I started standing up for you, I didn’t expect for you to start doing this!” Yuzuru exclaimed, placing one last Band-Aid on her bloody knee.

“If they mess with you, I go after them, simple!” She wiped away blood from her nose and got scolded by Yuzuru for doing that. She grinned at him and said, “You don’t need to protect me, I’m fine on my own!”

“If I recall correctly,  about three years ago, you were the one needing protection, not me.” It made him wistful of the days where she saw him as her inspiration and he felt like her defender. “So stop looking for fights, I’m fine. I want you to be okay too, got it?”

“Oh fine, whatever you say, Yuzu.” The nickname was brand-new and it made him glow internally. The nickname was much better than the one she had originally given him. 

 “Now we can go and get your favorite snack, let’s go.” He dragged her into his house and pulled out the snack he always reminded his mother to get just in case Y/N came over, which was more often than usual nowadays. 

“You know, it’s a miracle you haven’t run out, I’ve been coming over more times than before, is there something you need to tell me?” She joked, punching his shoulder playfully. 

Y/N was much different from a few years ago. As kids, three years was a long time and it was enough time for Y/N to change and come out of her shell. Yuzuru had only been open around her but silent around everyone else. He shook his head and sipped on his water. “No idea how it keeps getting there.”

Oh, the fun both of them had.

~

“Yeah, I’m moving but I won’t be that far, Yuzu, I’ll come back to visit everyday.” Y/N told him with a bright smile. It had been a few weeks into the summer vacation before heading into fifth grade and already he had gotten bad news. His childhood friend was moving somewhere else in the prefecture. He knew that as time went on, promises got harder and harder to keep until they were forgotten entirely. He was too smart for his own wellbeing.

However, he wasn’t about to say that. Not to her. He replied, “Please do that.”

“Don’t cry!”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“Was too!”

“Was not!”

Their tiny moments of bickering were something normal and they always came out laughing, even though he was hurt about her news.

~

Middle school came along and he was working to be smarter by the day, Y/N sometimes coming into his house, but those moments were only once a week. She always had news and he listened to them attentively. His hearing faltered when she said, “Oh yeah, and Daichi’s so sweet, he’s helped me in so many occasions and thanks to him, no, I haven’t gotten in any fights.”

His tone became bitter quickly. “That’s great.” A while ago, I was the one that helped you and made sure you were fine.

Y/N didn’t notice but she said, “I’m going to Karasuno for high school.”

Yuzuru stared at her and said, “You’re not going to Kakugawa?”

“Maybe I’ll transfer in my second year, but for now, Karasuno’s calling out for me! Plus, Daichi’ll be going, I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun while we’re there. Don’t worry, I’ll keep coming back as often as I can, Yuzu.”

The nickname stuck throughout all of these years and it always made him smile; today was no exception. He looked at her and said, “You’re entering high school earlier than me?”

“Yeah.” She looked up at the sky, already darkening, signaling her cue to go back home. Reaching over to hug him tightly, she whispered, “I’m not leaving you so don’t for a second think that this is goodbye.”

But his question was, why did it hurt so much that she was going somewhere else where he knew she’d be closer to someone else?

~

“Okay, so I have something to tell you.” Y/N said, wringing her hands together.

“What is it?” It was already their second year and they were currently at Yuzuru’s place, just like before. It felt normal, except that Y/N was maturing already, growing into a young woman that was way different from the little girl who used to hide behind him when they were small. 

“I have a crush on someone.”

It was a simple sentence, yet he already knew that he harbored feelings towards her and he couldn’t help but hope it would be his name that came out of her mouth. Yuzuru was too smart for that. Girls never said it so deliberately to their crush, they were usually a bit nervous and Y/N didn’t look the slightest bit nervous. 

“Okay, who is it?” Tell me it’s not him, please…

“It’s Daichi.” 

His heart broke into half at those two words, but he could see her face flush and her eyes sparkle at the name. If it was his name, he would’ve been ecstatic and admitted his own feelings, but alas, it was someone else, her other “childhood friend”, even though Yuzuru had been around longer. 

What does he have that I don’t? Yuzuru thought before chiding himself for thinking that way. He put on a mask and with that mask, smiled at Y/N. Anyone else could see that it was fake but Y/N was lovesick and head over heels for someone else and didn’t notice that the boy she had grown up with had feelings for her. 

“Are you going to ask him out?” 

“I’m scared, Yuzu. What if he says no? What if he doesn’t have the same feelings for me?”

“Then he’d be a fool to not notice how truly wonderful you are. We’ll make a plan that gets him in your favor, okay?”

“Thank you, Yuzuru.”

Yuzuru. Not Yuzu anymore. Already she was slipping from his grasp.

~

“Yuzuru! Open the door, I have good news!” Y/N banged her fist on his door at 6 am in the morning, positive that she wasn’t going to get strangled for waking him up at an ungodly hour. It was surprising that no one else had heard her in the neighborhood. 

Yuzuru opened the door and whilst yawning, said, “Y/N, it’s 6 am, what’s going on? Come on in.”

“No time, I have to go somewhere but your plan worked!”

“What plan?” He let out another yawn, choking on it when he heard her say, “The plan to get me with Daichi, it worked!”

Desolation. Release. Gone. Yuzuru could only stare at her excited face, his sleepiness gone as he realized that he had let her go on accident. “That’s great, Y/N! I’m happy for you.” Lies. All of them were lies. It wasn’t great and he wasn’t happy for her. He had been around longer, why wasn’t he the one that was chosen?

Y/N hugged him tightly and replied, “I’ll come back tomorrow, I have something else to do, bye!” She bounced away, Yuzuru closing the door after her.

Sliding down the door, he pressed his knees to his chest, one hand splayed on his forehead as he pulled off his glasses, chuckling softly. “What have I done?” His throat closed up and he pressed his face into his knees, quiet tears falling down his cheeks and falling onto his legs. His shoulders started shaking as the words bounced around his head. Yuzuru, the beloved captain of Kakugawa, the one that had held everyone up, was breaking down.

He wouldn’t be the one holding her in his arms. He wouldn’t be the one she’d look at with love and adoration. He was just the best friend, knocked aside by someone else.

But as the best friend, he was required to be happy for her, even if it hurt him.

There was no way he’d ever tell her to break up with him. He wouldn’t say goodbye to her either. His love for her wasn’t as fragile and he just wanted the best for her.

Maybe I wasn’t the best. Maybe he was.

One thing was platonic love. Within that platonic love existed unrequited love. Platonic and unrequited? Able to break someone into pieces. In this case, Yuzuru’s heart was tearing into pieces and there was nothing he could do about it. He was helpless.

There was no turning back now. 

“I’m not leaving you so don’t for a second think that this is goodbye.”

Then tell me, Y/N, why does it feel like it is goodbye?

~

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