#and being able to rest more while getting a whole weeks worth of chores done

[lavender---sunshine]

Had a big day but I'm desperately needing more small days

[lastoneout]

just me venting about being disabled and having migraines dwbi

I honestly think the worst part about this whole migraine thing is like, how much shit I genuinely just cannot do anymore. I mean I thought not being able to have gluten was alienating, but this? It's a whole other level.

And like thankfully I do think we're going to be able to solve the problem, I have an appointment with a neurosurgeon and physical therapist, it's just taking a while, but in that time I have had to give up just about everything that I had left that I could do. Going outside gives me a migraine because it's hot and sunny so if I have an errand or appointment that is legit the only thing I can do that day. I can't cook anything more complex than like scrambled eggs and even then some days the pain is bad enough that I can't even cut up an apple to eat. I can sit at my desk for like maybe 6 hours before I have to stop, and I'm usually still in pain the entire time, I just ignore it bcs if I legit spent every day in bed I'd lose my mind. And even when I'm in bed I have to be super careful about using my phone or tablet or switch bcs angling my head down instantly makes everything worse. I can at least shower and brush my teeth but like, barely.

Streaming is like the one thing I save my energy for because it makes me happy and pulls in a little money, and even then I keep having to cancel to take care of myself and rest. I want to do collabs and stuff with my friends so bad but I can't because I never know until the day of if I'm actually going to be capable of streaming or not. I've had to cancel streams an hour in because I thought I'd be fine but then the pain hits. I haven't been able to hang out in my friend's streams or be a mod in the ones I'm a mod in because I just can't. I haven't even been talking to anyone bcs I'm so fucking tired that I can barely muster the energy to be social.

I can't do chores because ALL of them involve Looking Down and I can't do that, and my fiance works full time so the house is messy. And he does help take care of me as much as he can but again, he has work and so I do have to take care of myself as much as I can, and there's no one else I know in town who can help take care of me(plus I'm still trying to socially distance bcs I do NOT need covid on top of this and barely anyone I know IRL masks).

And like I don't have any pain meds that help. I have a migraine rescue medication but I can only take it four times in thirty days and I have already taken it like seven times out of desperation, and it only gives me a day of relief, that's it. Ibuprofen helps, but only a little and only if I take like 600mgs and I can't do that every day or I'll get sick and the migraine pain already makes me so nauseous I can't eat sometimes so like, I don't want an ulcer on top of that. And there's no point in going to the ER because even the hardest migraine cocktail (toradol, steroids, benadryl, zofran, and morphine) at most gives me 2 days of peace before the pain is back. Even a steroid taper pack, which usually will break me out of any migraine cycle only took care of it for a week and I am SUPER sensitive to steroids, they make me feel like complete shit, so it's just not worth it to take one.

I could ask to see my neurologist but she sucks and just told me to take ibuprofen the last time I brought this up, and legit suggested I simply see a different doctor about the condition causing the migraines so really what's the point. She won't help me.

I could go to the ER and like beg to see a neurologist if there's one on staff who is willing to talk to me, but that's not really How The ER Works and they've already done CT scans of my neck to see if anything is being pinched and nothing is, and if they give me meds it will only help for a few days at most. Plus I kinda hate it there so like, I don't really want to go anyway. And urgent care straight up will not be able to help me.

And I don't even want to try to explain all that to any of my friends because it's such a major bummer and they can't do anything to help, but I also don't know how many times I can say "sorry I have a migraine that isn't going away and I just can't do most things" because like, it's the truth but like it doesn't feel like a good enough excuse? Idk.

I miss doing things. I'm in so much fucking pain all the time. My fiance's birthday is this month and idk if we're even going to be able to DO anything because of how fucked up I am and that makes me feel horrible.

I just want all of this to stop. But it isn't going to, at least not yet. So I just have to make peace with not being able to do anything for the next like three weeks.

I'm so tired.

[1d1195]

Hi Sam!! How are you doing my love?!? I’ve missed you😭 this week has been slightly better, still very busy and lowkey feeling a bit burnt out :( but I think I may be getting out of my depressive episode so that’s good at least HAHA

Anywaysssss I read the time extra and omg it was so heartbreaking but in such a beautiful way! I feel SO much for this Harry like SO much! Like my heart hurts for him but I really appreciate their story! I just wanted to go shout out at him how loved he is by everyone especially the MC! And ugh my heart hurt so much that he thought she would not want to marry him at all😭 and the proposal in their little kitchen was just so adorable?!?!!! It’s so very them and I loved it!! So well done Sam, you never fail to amaze me❤️ and I don’t ever feel bad for not posting anything, you are consistently doing WAY more than enough for us honestly that you deserve to go at a pace where you’ll still be able to enjoy what you do! We will all still be here now matter what!

ILY bestie hope that you are well and are having such lovely days!!!-💜

Oh I'm so glad to hear you're feeling a little better! Even if a bit burnt out. I relate to the burnt out feeling immensely. I hope you find some time to yourself and time to rest. Do you have spring break soon? Any fun plans? Whenever people ask me what I'm doing over break I always say nothing which is EXACTLY what I want to do over break. I don't want to do anything or have any obligations. Also I cannot afford trips and such so it's not really much of a choice. Anyways, I've missed you and I'm glad you're on the mend 💕 just reading what your message you sound better than the last couple times you chatted with me. I hope that's encouraging, too!

I was very grateful to get the idea from one of my sweet anons about this piece, but I was very stressed about it hahahahaha I had essentially 'written' the little series while I was commuting to work over the course of like two or three years as crazy as that sounds. Then when I started writing again I finally got it into actual typed font. But I was in a pretty bad place when I was thinking about it. So it was really nice to write something fluffy and light for this little couple but it was a little hard to get back into the mindset of Harry feeling a bit lost (which I guess is a positive sign for my mental health). I think it was really cute to see their private proposal. I imagine they did the whole dinner thing with their friends and families but I think Harry was a lot calmer knowing the answer ahead of time (even if he's ridiculous for thinking she'd say no).

Thank you so much for your endless kindness towards me and my posting schedule. I'm genuinely considering calling in sick one day this week because I'm simply struggling. I've been feeling very overwhelmed and stretched thin. I don't know if this is a normal amount of things that every other adult has to do or if I'm just being a whiny brat. I never feel like I have time to myself and I feel behind in every aspect of my life. I'm behind at work, I'm behind in my personal health, I'm behind with my chores, need to see my family, and should probs spend some more quality time with my bf. But it's a lot and idk how people do all this all the time. But calling in sick as a teacher just usually means more work for myself in the end so it's probs not worth it and I'll get caught up eventually.

ANYWAYS. Honestly, I'm doing fine. It could be worse, lol I hope you're having a good weekend and really it was the best to see your message and hear you're doing better! I was hoping you would message me soon--I think our brains lined up because I thought about it most of yesterday and then saw your message right before i went to bed 💕💕

LOVE YOU!

xoxo

[compassionatereminders]

Dealing With Executive Dysfunction - A Summary

(The full post with elaborate explanations can be found here.)

Being a responsible adult doesn’t have to mean doing things perfectly - it means doing what you realistically can. Can’t eat 7 fresh veggies and fruits a day? Buy some veggie juice or a smoothie and chug that. Can’t make a proper, healthy meal? Add some extra protein to your instant noodles. Can’t do the dishes? Buy some paper plates. Don’t worry about doing things “the right way”, just do what works.

It’s not cheating to do something the easy way. If there’s an easy or more manageable solution available, use it. Even if some people think it’s lazy. Don’t worry about that. Just focus on finding the methods of doing things which make life easier for you.

Fuck what you’re “supposed” to do. Yes, ideally you shouldn’t run the dishwasher twice, but if cleansing the dishes by hand is not an option and that’s the only way you can get clean dishes, do it anyways! When you’re in a really bad place mentally, fuck the rules. Do what you need to do to get shit done, even if it’s not how you’re supposed to do it.

Do stuff while you’re waiting to do other stuff. We spend a lot of time waiting, so spend the time you’d normally just waste getting some chores done. Collect the trash while your roommate is in the bathroom or wipe down the kitchen counters while you’re making coffee. You can even turn it into a game! How many dishes can you clean before the potatoes are boiling? How much trash can you collect and throw out before your load of laundry is done?

You don’t have to do everything at once. Don’t wait for the day where you’re up for cleaning the entire house cause then you’ll be waiting for ages. You can wipe down one counter and call it a day. You can put away a couple things and leave the rest. You can do one small chore and let that be it. You don’t have to choose between doing everything and doing nothing. Any progress is worthwhile.

Let go of the idea that something has to become a permanent habit to have any value. Doing a certain sport for a month is still healthy even if you then move on to something else. Exploring a new hobby for a while and then moving on to other stuff will always teach you something. What’s good for you today will not necessarily be what’s good for you tomorrow.

Don’t worry about the entire task. Just focus on the first step. Don’t worry about brushing your teeth - just get your toothbrush wet and put tooth paste on it. Don’t worry about writing the essay - just look at the assignment and open a document. Don’t worry about going to the store - just put on your coat and your shoes. Starting a task is a lot easier if you only focus on the step right in front of you.

Imagine that your body is a pet/animal you have to care for. Feed and hydrate yourself, keep yourself and your environment clean, make sure you don’t get under or overstimulated, allow yourself time to rest and relax, find ways to enrich your life (like socializing, media or hobbies) - and do your best to make sure you’re healthy and happy, even though you never actually signed up for being your own zookeeper.

Just because you can’t do it perfectly doesn’t mean you should stop trying. Packing lunch a couple times a week is better than never packing lunches. Journaling or making art once a month is better than never doing anything creative. Exercising every once in a while when you have the energy is better than never exercising. You don’t have to do something every single day for it to be important and helpful.

Put on a professional persona when it’s necessary. Try to separate the anxious and dysfunctional you from the Student You who’s sending that important email or the Client You who’s making that phone call or the Customer You who isn’t afraid to ask for help. It might feel like you’re performing a role, but to be honest, most of us do at times.

When you’re doing chores, act like you’re filming a tutorial. Narrate what you’re doing like someone’s watching. That might make it easier to maintain focus and to keep track of the various steps.

You don’t have to do anything perfectly. Wiping yourself off with some baby wipes beats not doing anything about your personal hygiene. Eating a protein bar beats not eating. Using mouthwash beats neglecting dental hygiene completely. Going for a quick walk beats not moving. It doesn’t have to be perfect to count and make a difference.

Make something you know you have to do the trigger for you to start doing something else. Tell yourself “next time I get up to pee I’ll take out the trash” or “when I get up to get something to drink next I’ll make lunch.” If you HAVE to get up anyways, you might as well.

Assign yourself a deadline. Tell yourself “once this video is over, I’ll do the dishes” or “once this alarm rings, I’ll do my laundry.” 

If you struggle to be compassionate towards yourself, try visualizing your future self as a separate person who you like and want to do favors for. Try to think of your future self as a friend who is separate from your current self and do what you can to make their life easier by doing things like preparing that lunch, doing those chores, taking that shower or making fun plans. I know they’ll be grateful.

Make putting stuff back where it belongs so easy that you “might as well.” Organize your home so that placing stuff where it belongs becomes so easy that you might as well just place it there. For many people that means several laundry baskets, many trash cans and easily accessible and very visible storage options. So if you keep finding things in annoying places, make sure they get an easily accessible home!

Look into why you can’t do something. Is something about the chores you’re struggling to do actually causing you sensory distress and is there something you can do to make it more comfortable? If you hate mint toothpaste, get one that tastes like bubble gum. If old food grosses you out, do the dishes with thick gloves on. If showering makes you feel bad about your body, shower with the lights off. The problem isn’t always about self discipline, and in those cases it’s worth looking into why you’re struggling so much to get certain chores done.

Take care of yourself in order to take care of others ( whether pets or people.) Outside motivation is necessary for many people who struggle with executive dysfunction. For many people getting out of bed is easier when you know someone else is relying on you being somewhat functional. So don’t be afraid to find the motivation to take care of yourself in wanting to take care of others.

Make keeping your place clean as easy as possible. Make sure there’s easy one step access to the things you need often. Make sure that the place where a thing is supposed to be is actually within reach of where you use the thing. Make sure everything has a an easily accessible place to go, even if that means several laundry baskets and several trash cans. Examine what’s messing up your place and find a home for it where you’re likely to actually place it on a regular basis.

Choose one very specific thing to work on - like the bathroom sink or the oven or your desk. If you suffer from executive dysfunction you’ll likely be distracted, but having one specific focus point you can keep returning to will mean that in between getting distracted, you can return to your chosen project and get some shit done.

When something feels overwhelming, tell yourself to “just show up” and that you “won’t have to stay the whole time if it’s horrible.” Cause odds are that once you’ve pushed past your initial mental block, you’re likely to stay and finish what you started.

If you really can’t do something, accept your limits and find a different method. Don’t keep trying to push through via willpower alone. If you need outside accountability to get your shit done, find someone who can hold you accountable. If you know you can’t remember the stuff you’re supposed to remember, make sure to always write things down. If you keep forgetting your meds, set a daily alarm. Don’t keep expecting yourself to be able to do things you always struggle with.

Make your chores into a game. Assign certain chores certain points and make a list of fun rewards you can have once you’ve earned a certain amount of points through doing chores.

If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing poorly. Any amount of effort is better than none, so on days where you can’t do something well, do it anyways! Any amount of progress beats not getting started.

Find a momentum and use it to do that thing you’ve been struggling to start doing. You can’t get yourself together to shower? Well, find something you CAN do - and once you’re already doing something, you might be able to channel said energy into showering.

Take it one step at a time. I know a shower sounds overwhelming, but can you take your clothes off? If yes, can you turn on the shower? If yes, can you stand under the stream? Look who just tricked themselves into doing the thing by breaking it down into manageable chunks!

Don’t just break a task into smaller steps - break it into steps so small you can’t possible get overwhelmed and fuck up. “Clean my room” is far too vague - but “set a timer and collect all the trash you can in 10 minutes” is actually manageable and so is “move all dirty dishes to the kitchen” or “remove and/or sort all clothes laying on the floor.”

Don’t worry about how most people do things - worry about what works for YOU. You constantly lose your key? Make ten copies. You overlook your post it notes? Put something with the important reminder on it in front of the door. Got laundry and trash all over the floor? Get more laundry baskets/trash cans. Coping with executive dysfunction is not about learning to do things the neurotypical way, it’s about finding strategies which actually work for you.

When you’re overwhelmed and struggling, find the easiest and fastest way to get rid of some of the distress. Eat if you’re hungry, sleep if you’re tired, pee if you have to, get that thing you’ve been postponing done if you can. The more stressors you can remove, the better - and it’s okay to start with the smaller ones!

Don’t worry about aesthetics. When you struggle with executive dysfunction, maintaining a picture perfect home is probably unrealistic. So drop that dream and focus on making your space practical and functional. Remove the doors of your kitchen cabinets and closets if that will actually make you put stuff away. Get a paper shredder and a mail sorting station if you got mail and advertisements everywhere. Buy all your socks in one color if you struggle to pair them. There are many ways to make your environment more functional. Explore them instead of just trying and failing to make your home look nice.

Get started on your next task before you take your break. Write that first sentence, make that first sketch, get the vacuum cleaner out of the closet or collect the dishes for washing and THEN have your break. Many people with executive dysfunction struggle to start tasks, so for most of us it’s easier to continue something we’ve already started working on than to begin from scratch.

[59writes]

SEVENTEEN- REACTION: THEIR S/O GETS INJURED (PART 2)

(PART ONE)

part two of @honeyylin ‘s request!!! sorry it took so long honey ㅠㅠ

also check out honey’s acc!!! they’ve recently started writing fic so give em a visit!! <3

today’s photo theme is green green green green green green green green green green

(I didn’t proofread this I will when it’s not 5 am lol)

tw: food, injury

SEOKMIN

• *insert terrified screaming*

• yikes. this man. this poor fellow.

• he’s so worried about you!!!

• like. you’re fine. it’s not a big deal you just won’t be able to walk without crutches for a while

• but this man PHYSICALLY refuses to go to work

• Jihoon even comes to your apartment to beat Seokmin’s ass gently request he come to work cuz they kind of need him

• but no, because “y/n needs me more!!”

• please you’re fine. you can walk and you work from home already. you’ll live. You’ve been injured before.

• this goes in one ear and out the other!

• he will stay home and baby you and peek in your room every ten minutes like “hey are you ok???? do you need anything???”

• it’s kind of endearing

• the calls you keep getting from Seungcheol and Jihoon are not though because SOMEONE keeps forgetting to “call in sick” to work!!

• it’s just part of the whole shebang. he calms down eventually and gets over the anxiety of you getting even more hurt or struggling and goes back to the others

• but you bet your ass when he comes home at night you’re not going anywhere and he’s gonna baby you until he deems you all better

• also he definitely just likes babying you because he doesn’t declare you better until a week after the doctor does, “just to be safe!!!”

• he loves you very much and if anything we’re to happen to the love of his life he’d like. Evaporate on the spot

• 10/10 man right here

MINGYU

• ok so we know how clumsy this man is

• he technically knows how to take care of injuries

• also the injury was sort of maybe his fault ):

• he tripped over a damn rock and made you stumble too, falling and scraping up your leg

• and this poor man is apologizing faster than he raps

• you’re not badly hurt, and when the pain wears off you’re laughing

• and Mingyu’s all pouty lol

• and though you assure him that you’re ok and everyone trips up sometimes, he just wants to make it up to you

• he is also one of the other mfs who would make soup. him and Josh r gonna open a soup kitchen s2g

• but he’s also super cheesy and you wake up from a nap and see that Mingyu’s gone out and gotten flowers and made some nice food and made a little mini date in ur apartment

• and he just feels so bad !!!! please help this man

• once you joke that maybe you should get injured more often so you guys have more dates like this he finally really calms down

• but like I said, he’d know how to treat any injury

• maybe not well, and I’m sure this man’s instinctive response is “I will put a bandaid on it and move on with my life” but how focused he is when he is just wiping off dirt from your arm or leg or whatever and making you sit still while he gauzes it up is just really sweet he cares so much

MINGHAO

• this man does not know anything.

• I mean don’t get me wrong he’s incredibly smart and emotionally intelligent but also. there’s nothing in this man’s brain except for dastardly ideas

• and you nearly breaking your arm is not exactly a dastardly idea

• so he kinda just shuts down

• he wants to help !!! So bad !!!! but he can’t do anything !!!

• like he’s genuinely such a kind dude and always willing to help even if he teases about it and just always there

• and this is the one thing he can’t help with!!!

• so frustrated ):

• so he spends his time with you by lurking with a pout, ready for any request you had

• he definitely looks like a lost puppy ㅠㅠ

• maybe you act a little more helpless than usual so he can feel better about himself. just maybe

• seeing him brighten when you ask him to get the pasta from the top shelf or help with the laundry is completely worth getting hurt for!!

• eventually he cheers up and goes back to his normal and teasing ways

• and once you heal up he’s so glad he can hug you super tight again (:<

SEUNGKWAN

• Ah, Seungkwan.

• be prepared for lots of passive-aggressive scolding

• I mean when it first happens you can see the panic in this poor man’s eyes

• ok well technically you texted him about it but his reply was violently misspelled and he showed up at your house within 15 minutes

• tbh you should be scolding him because he definitely was speeding to get home that fast

• but he was scolding you!!!

• like wtf you’re already feeling shitty and then Seungkwan comes over and is acting like your mom

• but this man is emotionally mature!!!

• he notices how frustrated and snippy your replies get and calms down, hugging you tightly where you sit on the bathroom counter as he cleans you up

• complains about getting blood on his shirt tho the bastard

• but he definitely hangs out with you for the rest of the day and you catch up and eat ice cream while you lie around on the floor and it’s just. aju nice. (lol)

• he does his best to keep your mind off of any pain or struggling, and we all know this man is a master of distraction so it goes very well

• he’s a very home-y person and you always feel safe with him (:

VERNON

• his literal response is “well that’s not good”

• you fuckin call him like “hey sol I’m in urgent care kinda like. broke my arm” and he’s just like “Yeah that’s a problem”

• thank you Hansol “Sherlock” Chwe

• he is just. out of his element please this man will just stare at your cast or whatever with wide eyes like “yo you broke your arm” yes Vernon

• he’s kinda just fascinated ngl

• he lets you tell your story with wide eyes, beaming proudly when you said you didn’t cry

• he’s like “yeah that’s my partner (:< so cool and badass”

• he’s just very silly about it and doesn’t treat you any differently

• which is nice because you kinda hate people bringing attention to it cuz it’s annoying as shit already ):<

• and he’s already so helpful and willing to do chores or whatever so you don’t have to worry about carrying things or washing dishes or whatever cuz Vernon’s got it!!!

• plus it’s adorable how literally every night he’s just like “it’s so cool how you have a cast” like it’s the dumbest thing ever but he finds it so entertaining. like not even the fact you got hurt just like “holy shit like. it’s cement they basically cement your arm in place you have cement on your arm y/n you could knock someone out with that”

• he’s a cutie lol

CHAN

• ok contrary to popular belief I think he would handle it very well!!

• don’t get me wrong this man is PANICKING under the surface but like. he’s so calm about it on the outside??? hello????

• you call him during practice like “hey so I kinda got hurt I’m ok tho, at the doctor rn” and he’s just like “yes ok are you ok?!”

• little dude lol

• and even though you are, in fact, completely fine, he’s gotta worry smh it’s his job!!

• he comes home and listens to the story as he helps you change the bandages with the most gentle hands ))))):

• and being near you definitely helps calm him down

• he’s back to teasing and being goofy in no time

• this man also definitely knows some medical shit idk what makes me think that but he knows how to like. deal with an injury.

• he definitely is very medically aware idk man I feel like he listens to doctor speak cuz it’s cool and is like “oh yeah go ice that you don’t want it cramping up” whenever one of the other guys complains about something minor lol

• he’s very caring ): I love he sm (:

• he can be a little rat but he knows when to stop and be an ally and what an excellent ally he is!!!!!!!!!

I’m so sorry I’ve never done an after note like this before but seeing all the green and plants makes me think of this damn tweet and I can’t stop laughinh

“he has pollen allergy” I’m sobbing please

[hillnerd]

For the headcanon ask game - Romione + rain?

For the headcanon ask meme <-feel free to send a couple and a prompt- i'll either write a short blurb of headcanon or write a drabble my headcanon is that Hermione loves rainy days and Ron doesn't- she wins him over to them eventually:

RAIN

Hermione had always loved the rain. None of the other children in her class did. They'd moan and wail when they had to stay inside during playtime. As they all mourned the loss of their beloved tag, Hermione would squirm in delight.

While everyone else would suffer through checkers and building blocks, adventures and deserted islands waterfalled into the room with every drop of rain. Why deal with getting actual dirt under your nails, when you can imagine walking on beaches. Why deal with lines for the swingset and being elbowed off the climbing frame she could barely manage to stay on for more than a few seconds, when there were chapters of friends to spend her hour with.

-------------------------

Rainy days were absolutely, without a doubt, miserable! That's what they were. On a sunny day Ron’s brothers would let him come along and maybe even hang out a bit. He might just be target practice for an apple, but at least he was on a broom, and at least he was having something akin to a nice time with them.

Instead he was locked in, roped into chores, and no one would play him chess anymore. He'd just finished helping his mum mucking out some of the junk from under the sink when he felt his leg get crushed and he let out a string of curses.

“Get your legs out the way!” Fred hissed, giving him a light kick for good measure.

Utterly miserable.

-------------------------

Hermione wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck as a gust of rain-loaded wind made her umbrella quite pointless. The Quidditch Pitch was so misty she had no idea how the players were able to avoid colliding.

“Damn this weather is shit!”

A warm cloak was draped around her shoulder and she hurriedly leaned into Ron’s side.

“You shouldn’t curse.” She did her best to school her smile into a formidable frown of disapproval.

Ron laughed and shook his head. Droplets from his hair flicked onto the last dry bit of her face.

“Y’know, we’ve been friends for two years. You should probably get over my cursing. I’m not going to stop.”

“It’s impolite!”

“Worse things to be than impolite, aren’t there? I could be an arse like Malfoy.”

“And that’s the scale you’re grading yourself on? ‘Not as bad as Malfoy?’”

“Don’t be jealous of my lofty goals,” he said, putting his nose high in the air before squinting. “I hope Harry catches the Snitch soon. My bum’s going dead from the cold. Know anything that could warm it up?”

Hermione tucked her head behind her hair as heat radiated through her.

“There’s a hot-air-charm.”

“Oh yeah! Blow some hot air on me!”

“I don’t know it yet… I’ve only seen it.”

“Same.”

“And warming charms aren’t until fourth year.”

“Bit shit, that. It’s getting colder by the second out here. We should all know a good warming charm. Plus we live in a castle in Scotland! It’s bloody cold!”

“Ron!” she said, giving him a small elbow in the side.

“Sorry! I’ll try not to curse so much, I swea—”

“No! What’s that over there?”

A swathe of darkness rushed the field, undulating like a dark ink spill across the Quidditch field.

“Oh no…” Ron moaned. “Dementors!”

He gave another string of curses as they rushed towards the field.

Despite the cold, misery and terror encroaching, a bit of warmth kept the Dementors from fully affecting her as they had on the Hogwarts Express. It was Ron’s large hand holding hers all the way to the field.

She loved rainy days.

-------------------------

The wet squelch of his shoes echoing off stone hallways was the only sound left in the castle. Ron was alone, which was all for the better. He’d always loved Quidditch, but now it felt like a scimitar ready to come down and end him. At this point he’d welcome a good beheading— at least then he wouldn’t feel so bleeding miserable.

His sodden robes left tiny droplets, and he’d wrung out one giant puddle, in the halls. If Filch caught him, he’d probably give him a good dressing down, but Ron didn’t care. He deserved one.

How could Quidditch abilities have passed him by so thoroughly? He thought he’d been a good Keeper at home. He always got stuck in the position, but over time he grew to like it quite a lot. Not anymore.

His robes thwarted against the portrait whole as he drug himself through to an empty Common Room. Not wanting to face his dormmates he went for a seat by the fire, but found Hermione. She sat in one of the larger plush chairs, her little legs curled up under her in a way that would make his long limbs go numb in under a minute. All around her were parchment and books. She was working on a Charms assignment he knew was not due for another three weeks. She looked up from the work and gave a warm smile. Despite himself, he smiled back.

“It’s miserable enough with all the rain. Why compound it with Charms?” he asked.

“I wanted to wait for you. I don’t like the idea of you practicing in a storm like this. Especially by yourself! It’s not worth it.”

“Well I can’t quit,” he said, feeling mulish again and collapsing into the opposite chair with a great heave.

“I wasn’t suggesting you quit. Just maybe wait for nights where there isn’t a maelstrom?”

“Ah, but then there’d be loads of other people wanting to practice, and then they’d all see how I suck eggs.”

“I’ve seen you fly and you don’t ‘suck eggs,’” she said, finishing her sentence with a flourish of her quill.

“There’s a whole song about it.”

“That song…” she growled, casting a charm on her paper to dry the ink.. “Malfoy’s the one who sucks eggs! He’s a little monster and I’m a bit in shock the professors have done absolutely nothing to stop him.”

“Why would they?” he said with a shrug.

“Because it’s a monstrous display of bullying? Because it’s targeting a student and making the whole school absolutely toxic? It’s wrong? It’s harmful? Take your pick!”

Ron straightened in his seat as she pointed her wand at him. Suddenly he was hit with the most satisfying warming charm, followed by a water wicking spell.

“You’re good at Keeping! I’ve seen you do it every summer up against the twins, Ginny, and even Charlie. But you’re no good to anyone if you get struck by lightning, fall from your broom, or catch pneumonia from being out in this weather! And what are you smiling at?” she asked, brows furrowed enough to make that cute little line appear between them.

“You.”

“You should take what I’m saying seriously!”

“Fine, I won’t fly in this weather alone.”

“Well who will accompany you?”

He hesitated a moment then replied, “You, if you’ll come.”

“I can. As long as I’m ahead on my revising.”

“Then you can always come, as you’re always ahead,” he said putting his feet up on her arm rest.

“I also meant it about the Keeping. I think you’re good.”

“Yeah, well… Quidditch isn’t your strong suit.” She shoved his feet off the chair and he gave a chuckle. “But, I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Despite wanting to be so ahead in her studies, Ron noticed how she ignored her parchment the rest of the evening for him. For a rainy evening, it was quite nice.

[saturnsstufff]

hii miss Saturn! i really liked the Athena fanfic and i was wondering if you could write a part two?

Hello my darling!! Of course! (Everyone knows id die for domestic Techno)

Athena pt.2- Technoblade

Warnings: swearing.

After Nathaniel had asked for permission to date Athena, Techno quietly lingered about. Not in the creepy way of course, but rather in the protective manner.

He knew you trusted Nathan, after all, Enderman were known for being protective, and precise beings. If Nate didn't see Thena worth his time, he would have left her alone ages ago.

After that little night, Nate ended up lingering around for a long while. Visiting very frequently to be honest. He found a happy comfort within your small family. Your house was always quiet- Unless Techno riled your boys up of course.

You were very happy to say that Nate made his best attempts to get to know your family. Since you all were very important to Athena, he made sure to try and understand why. He would often help you with Dishes, or cooking. Sometimes he even would help feed your youngest son Apollo. Ares, your middle child, was a little harder for Nate to warm up to. But after a while of lingering, Ares did find Nates company relaxing.

When summer rolled about, Nathaniel was able to persuade his parents into letting him stay with your family for a few weeks. Of course being in the middle of the tundra it was still cold, so there wasnt much to do. But nevertheless he never complained. Instead he asked to help with chores. Even going as far to ask Techno if he could help split wood, for the stove and fireplace.

Techno gave him a weird look in the beginning, this thin, nimble boy was asking to wield a axe. Usually to split wood it took a mighty, hefty swing. (See you know this because you often watched Techno split logs. It was oddly so attractive.) But Techno gave you a quick glance, and in return he earned a little nod, Techno gave a sigh and took the boy outside.

Instead of being a typical hardass about it. Techno went into dad mode. Teaching Nate how to handle the Axe like he was his own son. Explaining what was the proper way to hold it and what he should be weary about. As you watched from the window with Phil, the It never failed, anytime Techno was thrown a child, he somehow just knew how to work with them. Obviously in the beginning he wasn't too fond, but he learned there were perks to children. Especially his own. The two of you smiled fondly at the bonding boys.

"He’s such a good teacher..." you said softly. Watching your husband with loving eyes. It never failed, anytime Techno was thrown a child he just knew what to do. In the beginning he obviously wasn't a big fan of kids, but in the end he realized there was more too them, then what met the eye. Just like his own children. He loved them all, Athena, Ares, and your little Apollo. He saw that everyday there was a new challenge or new thing that popped up, amusing or not they made his day. You felt Phil's firm hand rest on your shoulder, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"He always was... He's a lucky man you know" you smiled a little more at Phil's words. "You two created a beautiful family..." with the thought of your family, your hand subconsciously came down to rest on your stomach. Of course Phil noticed and gave you a knowing look. "Don't tell me there's another one" his gaze went soft and joyful when he saw your pink cheeks and cheeky smile.

"Haven't told him yet... He's been busy with his boys" Phil gently hugged you, Cherishing the sweet moment. The idea of a fourth baby running about the house had you slightly on edge again. But when Techno nuzzled his nose into your neck and asked, you just couldn't say no.

“Thought he said he was done after three?” Phil mused, earning a giggle from you. You eased into his arms like they were Techno's.

“What can I say... He made a persuasive argument”

After that night everything just, seemed to fall into place. Techno was more than happy with the idea of a fourth child. After all he was the one that offered the idea. The sweetest moment that night however, was one you sadly missed. But Techno would forever fondly cherish it.

With you peacefully asleep in Tech's arms. His hand rested gently on your stomach, a protective habit he had taken up since your first child. Well you both faced the fireplace, he would press gentle kisses to your forehead. A soft and loving show of his affection for you, and the new addition.

Nathaniel, who rested on the love-seat, similarly had Athena asleep in his lap. only instead her head was in his lap. With easy, gentle fingers he brushed stray hairs away. Admiring her beauty that her father had given her. After today Tech and Nate and grown closer together, often exchanging words more often throughout the night.

When techno looked up from your stomach, he gazed at the young boy in front of him. With his gentle nimble fingers he gracefully played with your daughters hair. Admiring her the whole time. Techno saw how he looked at her, it was the same way he looked at you. Not a drop of malice could be seen in his face, all he had for her was love.

"You really love her... Don't you" Nate looked up slowly at Techno's words. Nodding ever so slowly. Tech’s eyes lingered on the boy before him. The idea of some boy being with his daughter left him uneasy still. But if he had to choose any boy he was happy it was Nate.

"She's my world..." Nathan said softly, his voice just above a whisper. His eyes glanced down to you before looking back up at Tech. His normal hardened gaze was replaced with a comfortable gentle look. "(Y/n) said Thena will have another sibling, I uhm... wanted to say congratulations sir..." 

Techno hummed gently, rubbing his thumb softly over your stomach. Your future child nestled within. "Just... just call me dad, Nathan... You've been around long enough to deserve that much..."

Nates eyes lit up, a warm smile gracing his lips. "Thank you, Dad..."

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: would you be so kind Ship: obikin Second: Ten years ago, Obi-Wan Kenobi met Anakin Skywalker, a charming young mage from Naboo, but as fate willed, they could not be together. A decade and thousands dead later, Alderaan’s High Court Sorcerer meets a Forger and his excited apprentice. AN: I forgot to post this on tumblr apparently, but here’s the first chapter of my second long WIP I am working on!

Then

The ship was crammed, filled to the brim with people clinging to one another, staring either at the home they’d lost or the home they hoped to be sailing to. Hundreds of ships had left Dromund Kaas already, carrying refugees across the ocean to safer harbors. The tension was high and sharp enough to cut as they sailed away from the doomed country and only relaxed when the pressure of the country’s shields finally left their shoulders.

“An awful sight, isn’t it?”

Anakin startled, instinctually pulled his coat around himself. Were he in a better shape, he would have lashed out immediately, winds, bindings, blood—

But the power flowing through his veins was too constricted, caged like a wild beast. Instead, Anakin just turned to look at the person who’d addressed him. An old woman with snow-white markings and long lekku stared at the dying country just as he had moments before, grief and resignation painting a sorrowful picture. “I never thought I’d leave this place. Did you?”

Wordlessly, Anakin shook his head. No, he certainly hadn’t thought he’d ever leave this place again. He’d been ready to be buried under the ashes of marble altars, not see this new dawn.

“I was born here, married too. All my children were born within the boundaries of this country and perhaps that is the reason they all left,” the woman continued. “I am glad that they weren’t here. If I think about what could have happened to them were they anywhere near the capital… I apologize; I hope you don’t mind my rambling. You looked like you needed company. Are you traveling to Naboo?”

He opened his mouth to reply, to give an affirmation, but stopped. He hadn’t quite thought where he’d go, except as far away from this place as he could. Naboo was certainly an option; Padmé would be glad to see him, he was sure. She’d take him in without asking a single question and defend him against the storms that were sure to come.

But Padmé was his friend and Anakin couldn’t allow her to shoulder his burden.

“No,” Anakin heard himself saying. “I’m not traveling to Naboo.”

“They are quite defenseless right now, yes, you are right. The fact that it’s the first stop of this ship is tempting enough for most to disregard what troubles might find them there.” The woman nodded in understanding. “I’ll be going to Alderaan myself. My eldest lives there, and in a country as strong as that, a tragedy like this can’t strike.”

She turned to look at the remains of Dromund Kaas again. The coastline used to be covered by beautiful large trees; his Master used to tell him how vital they were for its defense.

Now there was nothing but ash and darkness. Even here on the outskirts, where it had taken the longest for the remains of the catastrophe to reach, nobody was safe from it. Dromund Kaas had been in a pitiful state after the last war, which had made it an easy place to hideaway in. Alderaan might be stronger, the blooming center of magical education, but Anakin doubted they’d be able to defend against an attack like this. Nothing could save them from an attack such as this.

But Alderaan’s distance to this cesspit of disease was enough to provide a different kind of security.

Thousands of refugees would search for safety there, and Queen Breha was as cunning as she was kind. No one would be turned away and Anakin could slip in just right with them.

“I’m going to Alderaan as well,” Anakin replied.

The woman looked him over, then she beamed as if she were a young child and not already among the older members of her species.

Her smile was the first Anakin had seen in weeks. “Looks like we’ll be traveling companions then! You must tell me your name, young friend. I’m Raya Tano.”

She held out her hand and Anakin awkwardly shook it with his own left.

“My name is—”

Now

“Anakin Skywalker! Your automaton is ruining my kitchen!”

Sighing, Anakin let the spell sink back into the metal and settle into it. So much for working on his commissions today. A quick glance around the workshop told him that it was not one of his automatons running wild. Artoo was currently charging up and Threepio was keeping himself busy cleaning up. All the other small automatons Anakin crafted when he was bored were either asleep and charging or hurrying around the workshop, washing up the floors and putting away the tools Anakin had been using.

Anakin tugged off his gloves and threw them to a tiny and eager little automaton before picking up his softer everyday gloves. The leather was still quite resistant and had more runes stitched into it than most people dared to weave into one cloth, but they were nowhere near as excellently crafted as his work gloves. The dragonhide gloves were worth a fortune and so they never left his workshop unless Anakin had to. Anakin watched the little automaton put the gloves in their usual compartment until he could hear the click reassuring that the lock was in place. At first, that had only been a measure against thieves as he hadn’t had much to his name, but by now, it was a habit.

And it discouraged Ahsoka from stealing them for her own projects.

Anakin walked out of his workshop and crossed the courtyard to the small cottage he called his home, finding a kitchen in disarray, Raya standing on a chair with a small red automaton attempting to clean the floors.

“Look what a mess it’s making!” Raya said accusingly. “Instead of polishing my floors, it’s dirtying them!”

“I can see that,” Anakin hummed. He waited until the small automaton had reached his feet, then he bent down and pressed his hand flat on its small back, stopping it. Ahsoka’s handiwork was getting better; this little guy had kept moving for a while despite her absence. Anakin had no idea what the formal apprenticeship for forgers entailed, when they ought to hit what milestone, but he was willing to bet that Ahsoka was years ahead of her peers. Her spells were strong, her rune work fantastic, and very few actual weaknesses were left to explore in her automatons.

But Anakin was still a Master and Ahsoka only an Apprentice. Her work was not yet good enough to keep out foreign interference. Without much thought, he deactivated the automaton completely.

“This was your granddaughter’s handiwork,” Anakin commented. “She’s improving in leaps and bounds.”

Raya huffed and stepped from her chair. “I’m glad to hear that, but weren’t you meant to teach her control?”

“I am,” Anakin said, the argument an old and fond one. They returned to it frequently, mostly to annoy the young Apprentice. “And were she still as much of a mess as three years ago, she hardly would be able to craft such a fine automaton. Can’t do anything about her manners.”

Especially since she’d become a teenager. Anakin didn’t remember being as much of a pain as Ahsoka could be.

“And here I was thinking Masters were supposed to teach their Apprentices a medium of decorum.”

Anakin snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s what she has you for, doesn’t she?”

Raya’s expression softened. “That she does.”

Anakin sometimes wondered how Raya managed to stay so kind and calm when the world had taken so much from her. Her husband, country, her children— and yet she still stood straight, caring for the fellow traveler she’d never allowed to leave and the granddaughter that had been dumped on her with just a warning for Ahsoka’s generally explosive tendencies.

“Where is Ahsoka anyway?” Anakin asked, looking around the kitchen as if she would jump out in the open any moment. “I sent her on an errand earlier this morning, but she hasn’t returned yet.”

Unfortunately, Raya couldn’t tell him either. “I have no idea where that girl is running around—”

“Anakin!”

Speak of the dark and it shall appear. The door was thrown open and Ahsoka rushed inside, tracking even more dirt all over the floor, causing Raya to throw up her arms in defeat in a way Anakin knew meant Ahsoka would be left with all her favorite chores for the next week.

“Welcome back, Ahsoka,” Anakin said. “You’re late.”

“Yes, yes,” Ahsoka replied and rolled her eyes, obviously disinterested in what he had to say. “I got all you asked for and ordered the new metals, but look at this!”

Ahsoka raised her hand, revealing a ripped-off poster. It was tasteful in design, fine cursive writing on light blues, gold ornaments in the corners and, of course, the royal crest right in the middle of it.

Her Majesty the Queen of the Kingdom of Alderaan, Breha Organa, invites all Alderaani Practitioners of the Mythic Arts to attend the festivities in the capital of Aldera—

“Absolutely not,” Anakin said before he could even read the rest of the text. “We’re not going to Aldera to some festival.”

“Why not?” Ahsoka shot back. “It’s no summit, but it would at least be something.”

Her bitterness did not go unnoticed. Ahsoka had begged for months to attend this year’s summit. Every five, all magic practitioners gathered on Tython to exchange notes on their craft and pretend they were not also discussing the politics of their respective countries, forging alliances and the like. Anakin hadn’t been to the last summit, it having been just after Dromund Kaas, and the one before were tainted by the memories that followed, no matter how sweet the time had been. Ahsoka, of course, had begged to attend this year’s one, but it would only be foolish and reckless. He couldn’t just walk into the biggest gathering of mages in the whole continent and expect to get out of it without anyone realizing who he was, asking questions, concluding what he’d done.

Anakin had too much to hide, too much to lose, and he wasn’t going to risk his little Apprentice for it.

Not that Ahsoka knew any of that and wasn’t in the least satisfied with Anakin’s reply and immediately made her displeasure known.

“What would you even want to see there?” Anakin asked, trying to downplay how entertaining such an event was. “It’ll just be all the posh court sorcerers showing off with their fancy focusing crystals. It’s utterly boring and uncreative.”

“Like you wouldn’t use a focusing crystal if you had one,” Ahsoka muttered, arms crossed. “It’s just— there’s nobody else around here who can do magic. And all you ever do is work on machines.”

“Which requires a lot of concentration as it’s not just the manipulation of one aspect, but—”

“—but many, yes, yes, I know the speech,” Ahsoka said and dutifully listed all elements that went into their craft. There was a reason why not many forgers existed. Most mages lacked the talent, patience, and education to learn this craft, or were just plain afraid that they’d permanently damage their ability to use magic at all.

And with the speed technology was evolving and magic weaponized to terrifying new heights, not too many people still had use for forgers. Where two-hundred-years ago, you wouldn’t have gone out to hunt a dragon with a simple sword, but only with one crafted by a Master forger, nowadays you didn’t necessarily need one. Battle magic was on the rise again, especially with more and more countries growing uneasy, peace treaties falling apart. Combined with the threats from the northern continents, it was no wonder people cared less and less about expensive forgers when they could mass-produce and enchant simpler items.

“I just hoped you’d allow at least this,” Ahsoka finished. Her shoulders dropped. “Should have known better. I’ll go finish my readings.”

Ahsoka turned around, her shoulders still hanging, her head low.

Damn it.

Anakin knew that she was doing it on purpose. His Apprentice was cunning and had learned how to play into his every weakness. Slowly she marched into the direction of the door, dragging her feet behind her for effect and dramatics.

Raya raised a brow at him. She usually stayed out of Ahsoka’s tutelage, knowing next to nothing about magic herself, but even with his past being little more than a mystery to her, she could read him better than anyone else.

“Urgh, fine,” Anakin heard himself say. “Fine, we can go to the festival.”

Ahsoka turned around quicker than light and jumped up. “Yes!”

“But that means you’re not going to bring up the summit again!”

“Yes! Of course!” A moment later, Anakin had an armful of an apprentice. “Thank you so much, Master, you’re the best!”

Once she let go of him, she went to hug Raya and hug even her dirty automaton to her chest, still radiating happiness. “I need to go pack my bags immediately!”

“The festival is not for another week—”

Ahsoka obviously didn’t care. So caught up in her joy, she rushed upstairs, heading to her room to start packing. It shouldn’t surprise Anakin that she was so motivated. Ahsoka was a person who thrived on interaction, being surrounded by other people. While the people of their village were friendly, none of them were mages or even just sensitive to magic. It was one of the reasons Anakin had decided to stay without too much fight. But growing up so far removed from other mages had made Ahsoka twice as curious to meet others.

The thought made his stomach churn. He’d have to give Ahsoka formal lessons about their trade now, just if somebody asked questions that were too pointed. She’d also need a bit of the know-how on how you usually interacted with other mages and which pretentious bastards to call sorcerers before they threw a hissy fit. All these capital folks were much too sensitive about terminology after all. Anakin had never bothered to tell her the differences before, but Ahsoka would kill him if she accidentally embarrassed herself because he hadn’t seen it fit to instruct her properly. Forget teaching Ahsoka how to improve her automaton, the next week would be full of etiquette lessons. Skies, there’d be people trying to steal their spellwork too. Had he even mentioned that kind of theft before? Anakin honestly couldn’t recall.

“Already regretting it?” Raya asked, her voice just a touch amused.

“Just a bit,” Anakin replied.

“It’ll be good for her,” Raya said, convinced and confident enough for the both of them. “And good for you as well. I’ve known you for years now and you’ve never even brought a friend over. I’m not going to be young forever, you know. I do expect to be introduced to your future spouse at some point.”

“And this is my cue to go packing as well,” Anakin announced and followed Ahsoka up the stairs with Raya’s laughter following him.

He had no intention of being with anyone, ever, unless he could find glamours that held up even when majorly distracted. On his way up the stairs, Anakin caught a look of himself in the window, saw black vines curling around his neck, inviting someone to take a closer look.

It was better this way.

[lovelivingmydreams]

Paper Flowers: By any other name

Happy New year! I’m back with the fifth chapter. Other chapters are listed in the master post under Paper Flowers.

Thomas gets tmakes a fun youtube Video. Patton thinks there might be a breakthrough with Virgil. And Roman gets a surprise.

Thomas and Joan are sitting down at Joan’s kitchen table for a youtube video.

Earlier that week Thomas had sent out a tweet to ask the Fanders to send in questions and links for them to react to.

The video was a lot of fun so far. They saw cute dog video’s, inspiring coming out video’s, and then there was the artwork inspired by his vine stuff. Some fanders made misleading complement themed cards, and there were cute drawings of his teacher and dad character. And of course there was that stainglass/yingyang drawing of the Prince and his nemesis.

“This is just amazing, you guys are all so talented.” He gushes, not for the first time as he studies the gorgeous detailing on the latter. This must’ve taken hours and he can’t get over the fact that something he did inspired that.

The questions were fun to answer too. What subject is teacher’s favorite? What is Dad’s favorite cookie? What was the funniest interaction he’d ever had after a storytime? Some serious ones too. How did Joan know they were non binary?

What made him decide to come out as gay to his Christian parents? How did he know it was the right time?

Is it hard being out and proud while being a public figure?

Tips on how to handle social anxiety.

“Okay, final question, I peeked on this one,” Joan admitted, making Thomas let out a dramatic scandalized gasp. “I wanted to make sure we’d end the video on a fun note. Go on read it.”

Joan is chuckling already, so Thomas quickly reads the comment.

“Thomas love your content! But the people need to know. Is it Marcus or Kevin?”

Thomas frowns in confusion. There is a link and when he clicks on it he is brought to a long reblog chain on tumblr. He quickly reads through the first few posts and snorts.

“Oh My Goodness, that is just amazing!” he squeals in delight. He loves that the fanders are so enthusiastic about those two. And from what he can tell both ‘armies’ are battling it out in good fun.

“Well, I can’t confirm, nor deny either name at this time. But I think he’d very much approve of the one his faithful minions have chosen for him. Personally I do think Kevin would be hilarious though.”

Joan chuckles and nods in agreement.

“We might learn the dark overlord’s true name someday,” Thomas smiles. “But for now, take it easy guys galls and non-binary palls. Peace out!”

“Are you quite done Princey?” Virgil huffed. Roman had been laughing nonstop since Thomas heard about the debate going on in the Fanders comunity.

“Sorry. I’ll stop. Honestly it’s not that funny. Please do forgive me… Kevin,” And just like that he was doubled over again. Virgil groaned in annoyance.

“Okay, okay, I’m done. I honestly didn’t mean to. You can’t always help it when you laugh though. And you must admit it is a little funny,” Roman said once he got a hold of himself, whipping the mirth out of his eyes.

“What’s all this commotion about?” Patton wondered as he entered the commons.

Virgil tensed up. Patton had been… Different lately. He’d been checking if Virgil took enough food when he ate in his room, and that he ate everything when Roman coaxed him into eating with the others. He knocked more often to check if Virgil had laundry to be done, or to tell him that it was time for him to go to bed. He was taking this whole dad thing a little too seriously.

And some part of Virgil wanted to just accept and appreciate the effort, but the other kept wondering why Patton was doing all that for him when he clearly wanted him to just move back downstairs already.

It was in the little things. The way Patton would tense when he entered the room. How he would hesitate before smiling at him or greeting him. The way his voice wavered when he asked him stuff. And sometimes Patton would say stuff like “I don’t care how Deceit does things, but up here we…” Insert whatever rule Patton was trying to get Virgil to accept.

Honestly. He didn’t mind doing chores. Even if it was redundant when you can just will stuff to be clean. He didn’t mind making an appearance in the commons once a day either. Patton had just jumped from not involving him in anything into expecting him to fight him on everything.

Sure he’d roll his eyes and huff a little, but he wasn’t that difficult. Patton clearly expected him to be though. Perhaps even expected him to get tired of the rules and leave.

The problem was, Virgil had actually tried a few times in the beginning, and he couldn’t go back downstairs. Not really. Not for more than a visit when Thomas was asleep. The rest of the time, he was stuck in the in between only able to go to the upper commons.

Virgil’s best guess at how this worked was that Thomas had acknowledged his existence, but was still trying to push him down most of the time.

It’d been Janus’ decision to reveal this truth, when Virgil had been triggered into a panic attack one morning out of seemingly nowhere. Janus and Remus had been very calm that day and that had been exactly what had made Virgil worry that something big was coming. Janus realized this was not a healthy environment for him. So he lifted the denial on Thomas’ anxiety and told Patton and the others that Virgil would be living with them from now on.

Next thing Virgil knew his room was moved up, just not all the way.

He wasn’t sure, but he felt like he’d gotten closer to the upper level since he and Roman became friends. Logan didn’t seem to care one way or another. So that left Patton as the one to push him down right?

Virgil closed his eyes to calm his reeling thoughts for a moment. He couldn’t get swept up by his own head when in public. Princey got it by now, but how would he explain this to Patton.

“Oh, hello Padre. Kevin and I were just discussing the latest video and…”

Then Virgil found himself crouching on the kitchen counter ready for an attack. Patton’s high pitched squeal had been unexpected and terrifying.

Roman, once he recovered from his own surprise, moved a little closer to Virgil, putting himself in between him and the perceived danger. It helped calming him down a lot faster and adjust his position to look more casual and less terrified.

Patton was still squealing and clapping. It seemed like he had missed Virgil’s panicked reaction.

“Your name is Kevin?” he gushed.

“No,” Virgil objected immediately. Holding up both hands in a stop sign.

“That’s just one of the names the fanders gave the villain character. Princey thinks he’s hilarious for calling me that,” he explained.

Patton deflated. “Oh… Well, it’s nice the fanders enjoy your character so much,” he smiled awkwardly. Virgil suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He wanted to get out of here, like now.

“Padre! You just must see the gorgeous artwork this fander did about the prince!” Roman declared as he grabbed Patton by the arm and led him away.

Virgil finally fully relaxed. Roman was really pulling through on every level.

Protecting him from Patton’s parenting, deflecting Logan’s tough questions, and even making Virgil feel appreciated. Whenever Virgil had had a rough day of keeping Thomas safe, Roman would come find him in the field and just hang with him, humming his favorite music, set up one of his favorite movies with him, telling him stories of his grand adventures. Just hanging out. Once they did each other’s nails. That was a lot of fun. Virgil had actually quit nailbiting  all together because he didn’t want to ruin them.

At first Roman had tried gifts and lavish praise, but that did not sit well with Virgil. He panicked over not being able to live up to the praise or give good gifts in return. And Roman listened and adapted.

Virgil in turn had been trying to give Roman verbal praise whenever he did something nice for him, or did a good job with Thomas. It was hard for Virgil to say this stuff out loud though.

Virgil entered his room trying to think of a way to thank Roman for today without making it awkward for the both of them.

His eye fell on some purple craft paper. One of Roman’s early gifts. He’d thought that maybe Virgil might enjoy creating things to take his mind of off his worries every once in a while.

Virgil had never really found a good project to use it for… But now.

When Roman got back to his room after bidding Patton a good day he could feel a slow rhythmic knock on his door. They never agreed on a code, but he could tell that this was just Virgil trying to get his attention, but that he could take his time if needed.

He decided to note down his new idea for a Vine first so he wouldn’t lose it. When he opened the door, Virgil was nowhere to be seen. Not that Roman noticed right away, he was far too focused on the purple paper rose hanging from the doorframe by a piece of yarn.

It was clearly hand crafted. Which must have taken Virgil quite some effort. He carefully untied the flower and brought it to his room where he put it on his vanity in a little vase.

He smiled softly at the little token of appreciation. A friendship with the emo knight wasn’t always easy to navigate. But it was definitely worth it.

He picked up the idea again, confident it would be another hit.

The dark overlord scowled at the bright morning sky. "Curse you, eternal sun." He turns his attention to the star map on the table in front of him "and every single one of you stars." He raised a picture of the solar system and glared. "And to hell with all you planets! I hate you all!" Then he dramatically turned and picked up a small ball resembling a certain non-planet. "Except for you,” he says softly stroking the ball delicately as if to comfort it. “You get me. You may stay."

Next: everyone falls

[roseworth]

Everyday Forever

word count: 2075

description: A look into what Eugene and Rapunzel both thought their future would be throughout their lives, and how everything changed when they met. 

for New Dream Appreciation Week Day 6- Fitzbabies :) @autumn-ravenclaw @gleamful-lanterns

AO3

Eugene never truly wanted an island.

For years, he had told everyone he wanted an island alone with lots of money and a huge castle. Really, though, he had just wanted to believe that he had a goal he was working towards. If there was no goal, then there was no clear end, which would mean that he would be caught in the loop of stealing and running away forever. Even Flynn Rider knew that wasn’t a good long term plan.

So, he fabricated his own goal. He wasn’t sure what he would do with his island, he just told himself that he wanted it.

At first, his plan was to bring Stalyan and Lance to his island with him. He thought that the three of them could live together and not have to steal to live anymore. They could finally be happy.

Then he left Stalyan at the altar. He felt bad about it, sure, but he ran away without a second thought. He couldn’t marry her.

He was pretty sure he wasn’t capable of loving anyone. By all accounts, he should love Stalyan, right? She was there for him, encouraging him to do the things he was scared to do. Her version of “love” was wanting him to be his best. Sure, she did that by pointing out his problems and telling him to change, but it was out of love. She encouraged him to be the person they both wanted him to be. And love changes people and makes them their best self. So if he didn’t love Stalyan, maybe he couldn’t really love anyone.

So his “island plan” turned into just him and Lance. He didn’t even try to get into a real relationship with anyone else after Stalyan. He didn’t know how to love anyone, so it was much easier to stick to casual relationships. Besides, he didn’t need anyone else. Him and Lance would stay together like they had their whole lives.

Then he left Lance behind. Every man for himself, he thought. Oldest and closest friends were no exception to that rule. Even if he could hear Lance calling his name while he ran away, even if just thinking about Lance would destroy him inside for years.

He was completely alone. He had pushed everyone away, just like he always did. His life stopped seeming as glamorous as he once thought it was. He felt like he was just coasting from job to job, waiting to feel something, anything, again.

His island was the only thing to look forward to. Once he had a lavish life alone, he would be happy again. It would be an ending to the blur of a life he was living.

He knew his thieving had to come to an end eventually. He just didn’t have a preference to whether that “end” was an island, or the business end of a sword.

That was before he met her.

In all honesty, at first he didn’t care for her. He figured she was another girl he could use his “Flynn Rider Technique” on. Smolder, spend the night, then leave. But as it turned out she was frustratingly resistant to his charms, and she roped him into helping her.

That was when his whole view on life changed. He thought he wasn’t capable of really loving anyone, but not only was he madly in love with this girl after only a day of knowing her, he wanted to be loved by her. She never tried to force him to be a different person, but she made him want to be better. He didn’t care about his island, he just wanted to go with her wherever she went.

Of course, the universe was cruel, and once he had decided that he definitely wanted to stay alive for her, he met the end he had been waiting for. But looking back, he would do it again and again if he had to. He didn’t care at all as long as it meant that she could live the life she deserved. He hadn’t done anything worthwhile with his life, and he wanted to make up for that by giving up his life so she could do something worthwhile with hers.

Then he got a miracle he didn’t really deserve. He came back. He got the opportunity to truly be happy with her.

The first time he realized that he loved her was at the campfire. The first time he realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her was in the boat surrounded by lanterns.

He had never wanted to call Stalyan his fiance, much less his wife. With her, though, he wanted to call her his wife right away. Not only that, but he wanted to be known as her husband. He wanted to spend every minute with her, and he wanted them to grow old together. She was a beam of light in the darkness of life. Honestly, he was surprised that he held back on proposing for 6 months. It took everything in him to not drop down on one knee in their first week of knowing each other.

After years of not thinking he actually deserved anyone, loving Rapunzel and being loved in return made him happier than he ever thought he could be.

**

Rapunzel had always hoped she wouldn’t be in the tower forever. For as long as she could remember, she would lean out the window to feel the breeze on her face and imagine what it would be like to be out there.

Mother used to say things like soon but not yet, but deep down Rapunzel knew that she didn’t mean it. She always felt like it was a false hope, and after leaving the tower she realized that her Mother didn’t really mean anything she said.

Back in her tower, she didn’t let anything stop her from dreaming. She dreamed of what it would be like to be outside the tower. She imagined that someday Mother would let her see the floating lights, just to be beyond the tower for one day (and maybe that “one day” would make Mother realize that she really could handle herself in the world).

As she got older, it slowly became clearer that that wasn’t going to happen. She would ask more often, and Mother would brush her off. Whenever she got more anxious to leave, her Mother would bring her new paints, or a new instrument, or would give her a new chore she could do to clean the tower. Anything to keep her distracted from the thought of leaving. Because, like Mother would say, what more could she need if she had everything she could possibly want inside the tower, and isn’t she grateful for what Mother does for her?

The day before her 18th birthday, it was abundantly clear that her Mother was never going to let her leave, so she would have to take matters into her own hands. Luckily, she had someone that was more than happy to take her.

Okay, maybe “more than happy” is a bit of an overstatement. More like he was… gently forced to help her. But he helped nonetheless!

As they grew closer together, her dreams of the future slowly changed. She imagined what it would be like to permanently leave the tower and stay with him. She could see even more of the world with him by her side.

She wasn’t sure if he would want to stay with her, and she knew Mother would never let her leave the tower, even after she showed she could handle herself. She wondered what she would even do if she never went back to her tower, but how could she go back after everything she’s seen?

On the boat waiting to see the lanterns, he practically echoed her own thoughts when he told her she got to find a new dream. Her dream of seeing the lanterns was almost over, she could look forward to something else. As the lanterns painted the sky, thoughts of a future with him overtook her mind. Her new dream could start here and now.

And then that dream crashed and burned when he left her for the crown (or so she thought).

From there, her future was changing by the second. She thought she was back in her tower to stay, then she realized that she was the Lost Princess, then Mother Gothel chained her up and once again she thought she would never leave the tower.

And when he returned and promptly got stabbed, she was ready to give up her small glint of hope that she would be able to see the world as long as she knew he would be okay.

Then, with the help of a mirror shard and a magic tear, her future was looking bright again. Not only was she a part of the real world, she had a real family.

That first day in the castle, she told him that she would understand if he didn't want to be a part of her new life. He didn’t sign up for any of this, and it was a very different life than what he was used to. She would understand if he took the reward her parents offered him and left. Much to her relief, he assured her that he wanted to stay if she would have him.

She was glad he would stay with her. He became her rock, and she wanted him there in everything she did. She didn’t want to be away from him, because everything felt right when they were together. The world falls into place when she gets to hold his hand, even if everything around them is going wrong.

She didn’t want a future without Eugene in it, and having him with her was the easiest decision she ever made. And she kept making that simple decision every day.

**

If someone had told either of them years ago that this was where they would end up, they wouldn’t believe it.

Rapunzel quietly pushed open the door to the nursery and was met with the sight of her husband holding a sleeping child in each arm. Eugene looked up with a smile as she walked in. “Hey, Sunshine,” he greeted softly as she walked over.

“Hi,” she smiled, reaching out to take their son from his hold.

“You know, as much as I love them, I can’t help but be glad there wasn’t a third one coming to surprise us,” Eugene joked. “I’ve only got 2 arms.”

She laughed softly, looking down at the baby she held. Her heart warmed whenever she got to hold one of them in her arms, knowing that it was her child, and she would do all she could to give them the best life they could have.

Being pregnant with twins wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, to say the least. In the end, though, it was beyond worth it. She had 2 bundles of joy that she loved with all her heart. They were the most perfect things she had ever seen. (“That’s just what happens when the two prettiest people in the kingdom have kids together,” Eugene had said earlier. She was inclined to agree.)

Eugene had always wanted to have kids. Back when he was Flynn Rider, he had said he would never want to have a “little nuisance” with him all the time, but in reality he had known since the orphanage that he would want a child to love and take care of.

Now, his entire demeanor would soften whenever he even looked at their kids. He would move heaven and earth for them to be happy, no matter what. His wife and his children mattered to him more than anything else.

Rapunzel felt the same way. Having children that she knew she could do right for was the best feeling, and she was ready to put their happiness above all. Seeing the way her babies’ faces would light up with little smiles that looked just like Eugene’s filled her with all the joy in the world.

She looked down at the little angels she and Eugene held, then lifted her head to meet his eyes. At the same time, they both had the same thought running through their head.

How did I ever think my future could be anything but this?

[hargrove-mayfields]

I haven’t been able to write a whole lot recently so to make up for the little drought here’s a few kegboys hcs!

-Tommy has a big thing for 70s country music, it’s like, all he’ll listen to. Steve’s kind of overexposed to country having grown up in IN so he’s pretty neutral on it even though he prefers pop, but Billy, resident metal head and city boy through and through, tries to poke fun at him for it because like, country music is for uncool hicks, right? But, and this is very much to his dismay, Billy cannot get enough of Dolly. Like he really couldn’t care less about Toms other picks but he is beyond hooked on Dolly to the point that he’s the one buying all her new records when they come out.

-Tommy is absolutely the house husband because the other two are honest to god domestically useless. Billy tries really, really hard to help because Steve goes to work and he feels like he’s lazy for not being able to do much while he’s recovering, so Tommy sticks him with the little jobs because he knows he’s never going to get him to agree to actually resting. It’ll just be little tasks, things like cleaning the lint trap when Tom switches the laundry, but it’s enough to make him feel less useless.

-But! As good as he is at keeping up with the bills and doing chores, Tommy CANNOT cook. Steve will never ever forget the time he came over to his house and caught popcorn on fire in his microwave or when Billy had to swoop in and unplug the toaster like seconds before Tee electrocuted himself trying to use a fork to fish out a piece poptart that broke off in there, so he is very much not allowed anywhere near a stove. Billy is the best cook and even then he’s a little iffy because Neil never let him do it, so to compensate for how collectively awful they are in the kitchen they have like a thousand scribbled in cookbooks in every drawer and pantry.

-They all three have very different sleeping habits. Billy’s the early bird, always gets up at the same time as the sun well-rested no matter what time they went to bed. Steve is a deep sleeper through and through, he’ll pass out at like, 11:00 every night and won’t move again until morning. If nobody were to wake him up he could probably sleep all through an entire day. Tommy’s something of a rough sleeper though, can’t usually get to sleep until at least two in the morning, usually later than that even, and once he gets to sleep it’s very light and he tends to wake up every hour, on the hour. One time when Steve’s at the pharmacy picking up Billy's meds he grabs a little thing of melatonin for Tom because like, it says it boosts sleep and anything’s worth a shot if it means Tommy won’t be so exhausted and sick and frustrated all the time, and it does help! He sort of ends up on about the same sleep schedule as Billy once his rhythm gets a little more regulated.

-When they first started dating, Billy thought Steve was bad when it came to clothes stealing, he lost a few jackets and old t-shirts that way, but when they all three move in together he discovers that Tommy is the true culprit. Neither he nor Steve can keep track of literally any single piece of clothing. Everything, from their hoodies to their jeans to their pjs to their socks, all belong in some part to Tom until eventually they just have one community wardrobe they pick and choose from instead of like, individual clothes.

-They all three overuse the heck out of pet names like baby and babe, which results in Steve calling Tommy babe one and Billy babe two because he was tired of saying like “hey babe” and getting two simultaneous answers.

-Tommy does Billy’s hair for him when he still can’t do too much with his hands, and after that too when it’s convenient because it becomes routine, combing out his curls and putting mousse in it when he wants it done nice, because he wants to be a hairdresser anyways! He’d practiced plenty on Steve ever since they were in middle school, given him tons of hair cuts and even his highlights! It’s for that reason that when Tommy starts doing Billy’s hair, Steve gets the teensiest bit jealous because that used to be him. So everytime they go anywhere and they aren’t crunched for time he has to do both Billy and Steve’s hair and he starts not having time to straighten his own! But! That’s okay because his boys are very fond of his natural curls!

-Steve runs very, very cold always. He’s a type one diabetic so he’s pretty much always anemic and he freezes like 24/7. Even in the summer when Billy and Tommy are like melting into the furniture, he can get away with long sleeves and be just fine. When they’re in bed they keep Steve in the middle because they both run super warm like a heat register and it’d get too hot without having Steve as their ice pack between them.

-More about Steve’s diabetes bc it’s like one of my fav hcs and I wish I could write about it more! It’s really hard to find things for him to eat because he’s gotta worry about his sugar, but also because he has so many food allergies and sensitivities on top of that. Before he had anyone around he just kind of didn’t care about watching himself like, if he wanted to eat something, he would just do it, but he ultimately faced the consequences of that a few times too many, aka being hospitalized twice with DKA and three times with anaphylactic shock. he gets banned from grocery shopping on his own, because he will absolutely buy so much stuff he isn’t supposed to have and ‘lose’ the receipt and just hide the stuff because his boys will not let him eat whatever he wants anymore. Billy is also not allowed to go shopping because he never remembers what brands they use or reads any labels, he just grabs the first of everything he sees and calls it a day. Tommy officially gave up on them and started doing it himself after confiscating a half empty bag of gummy bears off of Steve and having to use the wrong toothpaste for months because Billy refused to pay attention.

-Tommy attracts strays! Cats, dogs, an actual escaped budgie from the neighbors house once, it doesn’t matter, somehow they always find him. If he’s out on the porch there’s like, a ninety percent chance there’s a critter that doesn’t belong to them in his lap. He lets Billy name them all even though they can’t keep them. Tommy personally can’t pick a favorite out of the 20 some odd cats that come and go because they’re all his babies, but Billy and Steve have theirs. B’s favorite is a black and white little fella named Mr. Shrimp and Steve’s is a sweet tabby girl named Meowzers! The rule doesn't only apply to domesticated animals either, raccoons and wild bunnies also tend to lurk around their porch. Billy picks up a raccoon once (he named her Poubelle, but calls her Bella) and Steve yelled at him for hours about how dangerous and irresponsible and gross it was. Him and Tommy get boyfriend grounded for like, weeks after that.

-Steve is like everyone’s Midwestern grandma! He keeps pockets full of butterscotch candies and tissues, he’s got a collection of blow molds and Tiffany lamps, he wears sweatshirts and jackets with weird quotes on them and like, he believes the cure to every ailment is tomato soup, vicks, a wash rag, and a kiss or any combination thereof. It drives Billy completely up the wall, because he’ll cough like once and Steve is like do you need soup? do you need a doctor? please let me help you. But Tommy likes it, being fussed over, cause he grew up with younger siblings and two working parents, so he was always the one doing the fussing.

[melissanovels]

♡ Here they are!! Chapters 1 & 2 of TRANSIENT TIME TRAVELLER are out! ♡

○ Read on my Website ○ Read on Tumblr (below) ○ Read on Ao3 ○ 

TTT  is an LGBTQ+ historical fantasy novel about Aida, a time traveller hellbent on proving the innocence of a 1,200-year-old dead queen, and Lorian, an escaped princess-turned-officer who wants to drain the royal blood from their body, & the two coming together with the help of their mischievous future selves.

♡ Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Read Chapter 1 + 2 Below:

Chapter 1: Six Weeks Before

Aida’s life was forever changed when she received a letter in the mail.

She never got letters. Being adopted into a small family in a smaller farm in Bělico didn’t bless her with birthday gifts or congratulatory mail. She estimated that no one other than her stepmother and her stepsisters knew of her existence, so Aida ghosted through life without much interference.

But she knew this letter, had been anticipating it for weeks since she’d sent in her application under her mother’s nose. It was handwritten on high-quality paper, the feeling new to her, foreign, and was branded with the seal of the Roman lion. She’d dreamt of getting these royal letters in the mail, wishful hope turning into dread come nighttime, but she hadn’t thought she'd receive a reply, let alone a letter of acceptance.

She’d been tending to the farm, or the cows, mainly. The chickens, pigs, sheep, and goats had been taken care of and her stepmother and stepsisters had their two horses out on a carriage ride to the village, so all that was left to handle was their five highland cows. Big, burly creatures more fur than hide. It took Aida more time to heave the heavy bales of hay into their stables, to groom them, wash them, clean out their troughs. She’d hadn’t even heard the post carrier arrive, she’d been on the other side of the property. When she realized her family would be home soon, she hurried to get everything done so her stepmother would be in a better mood.  Well, a less shit one.

There was one piece of mail that day, and it’d been addressed to Aida.

When her mother and sister finally came home and found Aida on the floor, frantically rereading the letter with the envelope torn with her teeth, they must’ve assumed she’d had jumped and was writhing in pain as a result.

She was writhing, but not because she’d travelled backwards in time. Her brain was spinning, eyes watering due to some type of emotion she couldn’t name. After fighting for years, she’d finally earned this damned six-year scholarship to Durante Academy.

Not that wanting to dorm at a school named after King Durante’s lineage was something she was excited about. She detested almost everything the royal family did, and she didn’t even live in Roma. Roma, or Roma City, was 1,500 kilometers away, across the sea and doing far better for itself than her home country of snow-covered farmlands. She should’ve loathed becoming a student in the country with the bloodiest warpath, the worst, most prejudiced ruler, and the shittiest armed forces since the time of gladiators.

But how she’d dreamed of walking through those academic halls, taking in the prestigious lessons in fervor and staying up late to perfect a soon-to-be perfectly marked test. Schools in Bělico, you were expected to drop out of after primary school to work your family’s farms. It made sense for some people. Agriculture was the biggest export for the country, so families expected many hands to tend to the fields.

But that wasn’t Aida’s path. Ever since she’d been adopted, Aida Mirko had set her sights on becoming a historian, and that path was only attainable in the sparkling, problematic country of Roma.

It was only after Aida heard her mother slam the door did she realize her mistake: being indulgent.

“What’re y’all doing?” one of her stepsisters, Ekaterina, asked.

“You tracked in mud,” her other sister, Olga, said. She had her upper lip curled as she looked over where Aida had run in from the fields.

Her mother looked over the mess Aida had made, then at the letter still in her hand.

Then she slapped her across the cheek and sent her glasses across the living room.

She should’ve expected it. How dare her. Here she was, trying to better herself in a world where most people wanted her kind dead, and she’d just been accepted into one of the world’s most prestigious academies known in Roma. It had only a seven percent acceptance rate. To any parent, that would’ve been cause for celebration.

Her mother grabbed Aida by the collar and dragged her upstairs to her room. Her mother and sisters lived downstairs near the warm fireplaces, while Aida had the joy of taking the stairs she struggled with and lived in the cold attic at the top of the steps. She had a fucking cane and a limp, and these people couldn’t care less.

“Mo’mma, wait—”

Her mother slammed the bedroom door behind her. “How dare you?”

Aida fell backwards into her bed.

“You ain’t going,” she decided. “You have obligations here. You work the farm, you care for us. How selfish can you be, leaving all of that to become a damned academic?”

“I want…to be a historian,”  Aida said, trying so hard to carefully explain something she’d wanted for years. With her limp, it was difficult to do any sort of manual labor. She got tired easily, her dizzy spells were becoming more frequent. Her sisters, they weren’t expected to do half the chores she was forced to do, yet she did them. She hated herself, but she did as she was told because it gave her a roof over her head and food on the table and a bed to dream about a life better than this. In the rare hours she had for sleep, she studied and overworked her abilities to prove that a Visatorre deserved to learn, something that’d been barred from her people for centuries.

She didn’t expect praise, or admiration. She couldn’t dream like that. All she wished was for her mother to stop hitting her. She didn’t know why she was selfish asking that. 

Her mother stood tall over her. “You ain’t going.”

Aida fixed her broken glasses over her nose. “I was accepted.”

“I ain’t paying for it.”

“I know that.”

“What do you mean ‘I know that’? You won’t be able to afford it. The journey ’cross the sea alone is ten gold.”

To her mother, it’d seem that way, but Aida had been saving up. For years, she’d been putting away her childhood allowance underneath the broken floorboard next to her bed. After turning fifteen, her mother had stopped paying her for her work. Aida had thought it was because her mother had finally seen her as a daughter more than a servant. Then she found out Ekaterina’s and Olga’s allowance had doubled.

So, she’d taken to writing school papers for the local village kids. Those who were able to write had trouble forming their thoughts in persuasive essays, so Aida wrote them top-grade papers about history, war, massacres of her own people and the rise of these dictatorships she hated, all behind her mother’s back. If her mother had found that out, she would’ve thrown Aida into the village stockades for lying because “Visatorre folk weren’t smart like normal folk.”

“I have the money,” Aida summarized.

“I don’t care if you got a fortune! Y’all ain’t gonna throw away your life and waste it on an academy when you’re needed here.”

“I’ll be gone, isn’t that what you’d want?” she shot back, the fear of speaking back pitching her voice. “I’ll be gone for six whole years, and I swear, whatever money I make—”

“‘Money I make’, she says. What money you gonna make there? You know Roma don’t take well to you folk as well as Bělico people do. You’ll be ridiculed. You’ll be ostracized.”

“So how different would it be from here?” Aida wanted to ask. Circa, how she wished she was brave enough to say that. If she’d been high, that defiance would’ve come out, but it would’ve only resulted in her being hit harder.

Aida lowered her head, feigning a defeat.

Her mother harrumphed and tied up her brown hair in a messy bun. “That’s what I thought. Now.” She held out her hand. Aida flinched. “Give me that letter.”

“No,” Aida said. “Please, just…let me keep it. For memory’s sake.”

Her mother rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on her apron. “Get up and help with the groceries, since you didn’t want to help when we came in. The rest are in the carriage.”

Aida nodded and went for her cane. It was a dark, simple thing made from a tree branch in the woods around them.

Her mother kicked it and knocked it into the wall. The force made it tip and spill Aida’s half-filled drinking glass to the ground.

Aida froze.

“Realize your stance in this house,” her mother warned, “and stop making such foolish decisions behind my back.”

“I will,” Aida said, and waited for her mother to leave down the stairs, where she heard her sisters whispering about what their mother had just told their servant daughter.

She gripped her cane as tightly as she could. The one thing about being in your twenties was that, while you might’ve been afraid of your parents and they’d wrecked your self-confidence and self-worth beyond recognition for more than a decade, if you had the money and the drive to defy the Gods, you could change your future for the better.

After hearing her mother leave, Aida went for her travel bags.

---------------------------

Nights at the Mirko household came early, as they—she—had to get up at four in the morning to take care of the livestock. Feed them, gather the eggs, change the hay, sweep out both barns, weed out the gardens. Aida half-expected her mother to put more energy into their own livelihood instead of working on how to destroy her own daughter’s confidence, but she couldn’t expect much of anything from them anymore.

Aida knew she was smart. She wouldn’t have gotten her scholarship if she hadn’t been. All the years of extra-credit and letter after letter of recommendations had paid off. It didn’t matter what her mother thought of her. She would reclaim her dignity without her.

The night she received her letter, Aida woke up at three and began packing. It’d taken a chunk of her savings to leave now, as she’d planned to leave later towards the school year where travel costs decreased, but she’d manage. She always did. She currently had seventy pieces of gold lyria to her name. It wasn’t much—it barely covered a month’s worth of groceries for her family—but if she used it right, it’d get her a life without them in it.

Because, in all her twenty-three years of living, she knew that “family” could go fuck themselves with how much good they did for her.

She dressed in a black dress fit for the night and braided her hair in her favorite way, down her front in two braids that never seemed even. She was bigger than most girls: both of her sisters’ weights combined. She hoped the school uniforms could accommodate her, and that they weren’t tacky. She needed a self-esteem boost, not a downgrade from what clothes she’d been given.

After packing her non-essentials, she got to work packing the more important items: her journals, thick with cut-outs and pictures from used books she’d pasted into it; her history texts on the once luxurious country of Siina and its murdered queen; the first book in the En Tempore Rose sextet, Pinnacle Isle; and the signed playbooks from the opera-ballet adaptation she’d bartered for in exchange for an eight-page essay.

She’d gone to see the opera once, and by “seen,” she meant she’d snuck away into the theatre for ten minutes during a family trip to Roma City when she was six. It’d been during a trading festival where they earned their summer wealth. She’d snuck into the massive theater constructed within the colosseum and caught the last few minutes of the performance before being discovered.

She’d been beaten so hard that she didn’t remember much of the opera, but she remembered loving it. Those few minutes near the stage that made her heart stop and restart with the love of her favorite stories, both real and imaginary. The ballerinas dressed in snow-white lace, the glitter that danced from the rafters.  It’d sparked her desire to be a ballerina before she found out that Visatorre were neither allowed to be performers on the stage nor were they allowed to even watch a costly opera to begin with. They were a “risk” to those around them if they travelled backwards into time.

At least she had her journals. She had a dozen or so hand-bound journals she’d made herself because God knew her mother wouldn’t have bought them for her. They detailed her favorite moments in history. Nothing of wars or tyrannical, egotistical kings she couldn’t stand learning about. She was interested in the people, the interpersonal relationships between the royal families and their citizens. Their dresses, the food they ate, the ways they lived their menial lives a millennia ago.

And Eve, a magnificent, tolerant queen to a dead city-state that once held 100,000 Visatorre within its peaceful walls. Aida loved her, knew everything about her life from the minute she was born to the day she was executed. Her city-state, Siina, had once been a well-established community within Roma that could’ve rivaled the country in time.

History said Eve had murdered the Roman king’s wife, so in retaliation, he’d killed her, her lineage, and all 100,000 Visatorre of Siina, burying them within the Catacombs underneath Roma City.

Aida knew for a fact that that part of history was wrong. She’d written papers and thesis on Eve for years, and she couldn’t see the dead queen dipping so far as to murder someone she should’ve seen as an ally. She’d been a young, proud, dedicated Visatorre that housed and raised and loved the biggest population of Visatorre the world had ever seen. Yes, she was rash with some of her decision-making, and she might’ve been labeled “eccentric” in today’s terms, but to murder someone so powerful for no reason, it didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense.

So, Aida was bent on becoming a historian, to rewrite the history books with the truth rather than the propagated schlock crammed down their throats.

After zipping up her final bag, she readied her three-kilometer-long walk to the village. It was mostly leveled terrain, but still, it always burdened her legs. One bad jump six years ago had fucked up her hips, or her back, or her spine, or all three, given her exceptionally bad luck. No doctor had a concrete reason as to why Visatorre were injured when they jumped into the past, they only knew the farther back you went, the worse you came back. Some Visatorre who’d jump 100, 200 years back would come back burning from the inside or with missing limbs, screaming in pain until they needed to take something to their skull to mask the pain. Aida, with all that was stacked up against her, always considered herself lucky that she only needed a cane to get around.

She closed the garden gates slowly, taking the back entrance so she didn’t wake the easily spooked ducks. No more farmlands, no more chores done by six and being hit behind closed doors. Despite years of fucking up, making her think she was useless, too slow, too stupid to be anything more than a servant in her own home, Aida was to mentally burn this place to the ground with her accomplishments.

Or physically, if she became so bold and dire for actual jail time.

She paused at the start of the cow field, eyes darting left and right. While she wouldn’t burn down the farm—she couldn’t hurt the animals—she could do something else. Something more.

She crept into the chicken coop and burgled twenty-four of the largest eggs, enough to keep her fed for a few days, and another six for the carriage. Not hers, but her mother’s, or the one she’d already promised for Olga when she eventually married. Keeping her movements quiet, Aida smashed her extra eggs into the seats and dug the yolk deep into the hides. Then she took charcoal she always kept in her dress pockets and ruined one side of the barn in graffiti. She dumped the milk she’d gotten for that day, she let the chickens loose from the coop. Dumped the drinking water over the hay, overturned the trough. Everything she could do to make her family’s life horrible, but not enough to send an officer after her.

If they connected it to a Visatorre’s doing, she might’ve had one on her tail. Luckily, she wasn’t planning on ever coming back.

She paced herself as she made her way into the village. Idti, a racist outcropping of 500 farmers who’d sell their own daughters for a lick of gold. She kept a knife in her pocket when walking down the dirt roads, waiting to hear someone run up behind her and rob her. Luckily, the carriage house she was planning on using was close to the main road. Beyond the village stretched out a long path to the sea. She could almost smell the cold, salty air.

One driver was smoking near his carriage and reading the paper with his boots kicked up. As Aida neared with lantern and cane in hand, he gave her a look. He made no attempt to hide his ogling at her Visatorre marking: a white circle engraved in the middle of her forehead. Every Visatorre obtained one the first time they travelled, but that didn’t stop non-Visatorre from staring like she had three legs.

“I need a ride to the harbor,” Aida said, keeping her face devoid of emotion.

“Now?” the driver asked.

“Not yesterday,” she said, and gave him three of her gold lyria coins. “The quicker, the better.”

At the sight of priceless gold, the driver instantly folded his paper and sat up. “You’re the Visatorre girl who works up at that farm, ain’t you?”

“Aye.” She took out one of her own cigarettes and had him light it for her. She needed one after this week, and her mother hated the smell in the house. “Let’s say I got fired.”

“Didn’t you live there?”

“Didn’t you need to bring me to the harbor?”

The man clicked his tongue and helped her with her bags.

She took one long inhale as she surveyed the land. The morning birds had yet to begin their songs, and the lack of light let the Moon and stars shine over the country, painting it a deep blue.

“Did you hear the news?” the driver asked, making unneeded small talk. “The princess of Roma, Lucia, she just went missing. Paper’s sayin’ she vanished from her own wedding. Say she got kidnapped or something.”

“Wouldn’t be a change from what we see,” Aida said. While the royal family now was in charge of what she did, she didn’t care for them nearly as much as she cared for the dead ones. The dead ones had more of a history to them that always intrigued her. Plus, she never saw the two twin princesses. One had been married off to the shitstain of Bělico’s King Dmitri as a kid, the other barely left the palace. What was the difference if she went missing?

“Do you think they’ll find her?” asked the driver.

In the distance, Aida saw the faint outline of her home. Her mother’s home—it had never belonged to her. Her mother had tried to be a good mother when she’d first adopted Aida, but the years had tainted her into a villain Aida couldn’t wait to see get their comeuppance.

She gave her home the finger and hopped into the carriage. “Who cares about some dumb princess?”

----------------------------------

Chapter 2: Six Weeks Before, Continued

Lorian had dreamed about escaping her bedroom through the window. She never thought it would be her last-ditch effort to save her life.

She wasn’t in life-threatening danger. She wasn’t going to die if she stayed the night. Acted proper. Went back downstairs and apologized to her wedding guests, and let Prince Zaahir take her hand like she’d been proclaimed to do since she was six.

That wouldn’t kill her per se, but if it came to that, she’d kill herself. No remorse, no second thoughts. She’d warned her parents that if they followed through with the marriage, it would’ve been the final straw out of the many that they’d already broken for her.

Well, her father had. Everyone knew that despite being the reigning queen, it was Lorian’s father who controlled the country.

That night, after tearing up the wedding dress and ruining every last piece of notable art she had left in her bedroom, Lorian had collapsed into her bed and sobbed so hard, she’d thrown up. Out of everything her parents forced her through, this marriage was the one constant. Let her ruin her dresses, let her throw her infamous temper tantrums hidden from the country. But this marriage, just like her sister’s, would happen. Alliances needed to be formed between the three major countries of the world to keep war at bay, and it’d happen whether she liked it or not. Country before individual. Alliances before children.

The only way out was death.

She’d contemplated it, then kicked herself and fought for another way out. She couldn’t end it here. She had to show her parents that she did have aspirations, just ones outside of royal duties.

The giant clock just outside of Lorian’s room chimed for eleven. Per Roman customs, the wedding kiss would occur at the stroke of midnight, and so far, Lorian hadn’t let any of her maids or officers near her. Not even her own family had come into her room, though they’d tried.

First, her mother, whose frail knocks almost made her heart break. Then her twin sister, Beatrice, born only twelve minutes earlier and thus married off first to a man older than their father. Her methodical, emotionless explanation as to why this needed to marry Zaahir made Lorian break a vase to get her to stop talking.

Carmine was the last person to come. He was the queen’s right-hand man—a Constable, the highest rank given to officers—and childhood friend of the queen. He was the most sympathetic about Lorian’s plight, she’d give him that, but he, like the rest of them, told her to come downstairs and finish what was destined for her. He used to be better, back when he was more a family friend who wasn’t weighed down my medals of honor, but those days were gone, as was Carmine’s carefree nature. It’d been replaced with duties that outweighed Lorian’s happiness.

Her father didn’t come up to check on her.

But she didn’t need any more of his anger tonight. Nobody could talk her into this. She had her mind set, and it was anywhere else but this godforsaken palace.

The only one she’d let come near was Missus Sharma. She’d been Lorian’s and Beatrice’s nursemaid since they were in the womb. She’d taught Lorian mathematics, both the piano and violin, and had guided Lorian through speech therapy to get rid of her lisp yet failed. She also knew almost all of Lorian’s secrets, all of her hidden passions without the threads of marriage and princesshood dragging her down.

Lorian had told her, last year, that she didn’t want to be a princess any longer.

“I know your frustrations, Your Highness,” she’d said, this sixty-year-old maid who deserved so much more than what Lorian gave her.

She didn’t know, however, so when Lorian explained more, that she didn’t want to be a princess, or Lucia, or only a woman but something more, something different, that’d puzzled her. Her generation still lived in the mindset that’d fizzled out during this ruling—people could be who they wanted to be, whether they were a boy, girl, neither, or something in-between.

Those rights weren’t given to royal heirs, especially when it involved the procreation of royal children.

Lorian held her stomach as she thought of a way out of this. Even though she was still figuring out her identity, she was sure as fuck not marrying Zaahir for the sole purpose of bearing children. That thought was so far out of her comfort zone, it was off her radar.

Frustrated by her dwindling time limit, Lorian groaned, took the last of her pillows she hadn’t torn, and threw it against her writing desk. It scattered the letters she’d tried to write to her parents only for her to rip them up because, while his mother might hear her out, her father wouldn’t listen. He never did.

A letter fell to her ornate rug. It was hidden behind one of her jewelry boxes and slipped out when the box fell. It didn’t have a name on it, but it’d been stamped with her family’s seal.

Curious, Lorian picked it up.

Out the window & down to the forest.

Good luck.

She flipped over the note to read the rest, but that was it. It wasn’t even signed, meaning the person didn’t want to be traced back. She examined the handwriting, but that didn’t click either. It looked like the person, whoever had written it, had concealed their own personhood to make the letter untraceable.

She looked back at her door. It was locked, as well as barricaded with her wardrobe. Nobody was coming in any time soon.

She crept towards the window that faced the outer walls. In the past, they were meant to keep enemies out, like the fallen city-state of Siina. It’d once been a wealthy state where most of the Visatorre population lived some 1,200 years back. Tensions back then had been high, she was taught. Visatorre were seen as part-God, part-monster, these people who could travel, or “jump,” back in time for hours to witness a single moment in history. Stories had been created around them, painting them as the voyeuristic, nosy ghosts that deserved all the pain their jumps caused them.

Her father despised time travellers for their unpredictable powers, but he never brought it up to the public. They were a reminder of a bloody history most Romans wanted to forget, but Lorian hadn’t forgotten. She knew that the queen of Siina had murdered the Roman king due to some type of disagreement, and as punishment, she, her lineage, and all 100,000 Siinans had been brutally slaughtered in an unfair and unjust bloodbath.

Lorian grit her teeth. She hated it. She’d hated it ever since it was taught to her by her scholars and meant to sound like a victory. It wasn’t. It was the royal family’s insatiable bloodlust, and it was all the more reason why she wanted nothing more to do with the crown trying to be placed over her head.

The orchestra music from her own wedding ceremony echoed from outside. Six hundred people had been invited and were likely all dining and eating and placing bets as to whether or not Lorian would come down by midnight.

So it was odd that out of all of these guests and bustling maids and officers in the palace tonight, nobody saw Lorian’s horse, Ether, nibbling on the flowers next to the palace walls. She was bridled and had on her saddle, but it wasn’t the official, royally-sanctioned one with all the gold and rubies stitched into it, it was Lorian’s personal riding one that was worn and made of coarse leather.

And attached to Lorian’s windowsill, weighted down so as not to blow in the summer night air, was a silk bedsheet tied into other bedsheets: a less than perfect escape ladder.

Lorian pressed her lips together. Who’d set this up for her? She’d dreamed of this day for years, and it only became more real that week.

She touched the start of the makeshift ladder. It’d been tied several times behind her window and secured behind the jewelry box. Not even Missus’ Sharma would’ve seen anything awry.

Lorian turned so quickly on her heel, she tripped on the rug given to her by her mother’s mother. She pulled out the drawers of her second wardrobe not currently holding back the only door to the room and packed what she considered to be her real clothes. No dresses, nothing that was too uncomfortable to wear. She did pack her corsets to bind her chest and hide her hips. She didn’t hate her body; her boobs were fun to play with when she was in the bath or getting ready for bed. They just meant too much to her past self, and she didn’t want to remember that.

She would no longer be Lucia Maria Carolus Durante di Romano, future princess to the country of Roma and Aldaí.

She would be Lorian. Lorian…

Something. If she was going to run away, she’d have to change her surname, but she’d only landed on “Lorian” when she was a child, a nonsense name that meshed her name with Carmine’s father’s name. That was back when she respected him.

Despite living here all her life, she had nothing of real importance. Clothing she felt comfortable in, 350 pieces of gold lyria she kept in case she ever decided to really run away, utensils—she ate quite a lot in her room. She grabbed documents with her father’s and Carmine’s signatures in case she needed to forge them for her new life, and she kept her signet ring and skeleton key because she was sentimental like that. She had her dagger because her rapiers would be too long and too distracting on the run. She wouldn’t need a map because she knew the whole layout of the kingdom by heart. As for her underwear…

She looked at the dagger in her hand, then at herself in the mirror. The blond hair she’d tied up in a ponytail to get it out of her face still curled to the middle of her back. She liked her hair; it was a staple for Roman women to keep it long. Her mother’s must’ve been worth something for how beautiful it was, reaching her thighs in elegant waves, and her sister’s must’ve taken hours to prepare every day with all the braids and swoops she kept it in.

Lorian gripped the handle of her blade. She didn’t think it over because she knew she’d regret it. Nobody in the kingdom could know she was Lucia. If she were to live as Lorian, Lucia needed to die.

Her locks fell around her in spirals. Her head instantly felt lighter than it had in years, but she knew it didn’t look right. One part was uneven, the next cut too close to her scalp. She didn’t touch her bangs, as Missus Sharma had just styled them the day before, and when she was done, she didn’t look back in the mirror. She retied it into a small ponytail. Her neck felt cold yet free, another chain broken.

Someone knocked on her door.

She nestled her knife against her thigh.

“Your Highness, are you alright?”

The voice, so sweet and motherly, Lorian knew it better than her own mother’s.

“Yes, Missus Sharma,” she called out, and slowly opened her window all the way. Her curtains fluttered. It kissed her cheeks, her newly uncovered neck.

“I don’t want you to feel alone right now. I know this’s terrifying for you, and unfair. Oh, sweetheart, I know. Can you talk to me? Have you eaten?”

Lorian lifted one leg over the windowsill. She’d once climbed out of this window as a child to the giant clock tower above. When they’d found her, her father had slashed her palms. It seemed so much easier as a thirteen-year-old. “I have, and I’m alright now.” She dared a peek down the four stories and closed her eyes. It wasn’t high up. It wasn’t that high. “I’ll be okay.”

“Do you need anything from me right now?”

She swung the rest of her body out of the window. Vertigo hit her like a crashing wave. She wrapped both arms around the blanket and gave a firm tug. “No. You’ve done enough for me this week, and I do appreciate all that you’ve done.” She put more of her weight on the bedsheet ladder, then more. “G-go tell my mother and father that…I’m contemplating coming down soon.”

“Oh, you are?” Missus Sharma asked. “How wonderful! Let me bring them up.”

“I-I’ll just need a minute,” she called out, hoping her voice wouldn’t travel. “Do give me that, okay, Missus Sharma?”

“Of course, Your Highness. Oh, their Majesties will be so thrilled.”

“I’ll bet,” Lorian muttered under her breath, and looked down. What was four stories, really, other than a two-second drop to your crushing, painful death?

She bit her lower lip, said a prayer to any God that would hear her, and let gravity take her down.

Her boot snagged on a jutting brick  and, while it might’ve been a two-second controlled fall, it felt longer. She anticipated hitting the ground but didn’t expect to feel the dizziness that accompanied her once she hit the earth. Her feet gave out from underneath her and she rolled over like a turtle. Ether looked down at her, chuffing.

Lorian stayed on the ground, fingers curling into the cold grass. She counted the eerie seconds of silence. Someone always noticed when she acted out. She’d be caught, subdued, reformed into what her father wanted.

Nobody came. Missus Sharma didn’t run to her bedroom window and call out for her. No patrolling officer asked what she was doing.

She breathed in a gulp of fresh air, then slowly lifted herself up with her horse. She pulled on her reins and waited. She climbed onto Ether’s back and waited.

Nobody was coming.

Nobody knew she was here.

Lucia had been killed, and Lorian had taken her first step.

She blinked back the tears. She didn’t know what had brought them on. Her cutting her hair, her knowing that this one decision might strip her away from everyone she loved for months, years. If this worked, if she really pulled everything off, she might never see them again. Beatrice, Carmine, her mother, Missus Sharma, the maids and officers who treated her far better than she deserved, her father…

She violently turned her head away and broke Ether into a gallop. She tore through the gardens, through the first gate. A lone officer on duty hadn’t been expecting anyone to pass through here and certainly wasn’t prepared to stop a galloping mare running past him. He also probably hadn’t been expecting Lorian to be crying.

She knew she hadn’t. Isn’t this what she’d wanted? To be free from a marriage to a man she’d met three, possibly four times in her life? To be free from her father’s expectations of being a subservient princess and to finally do what she wanted to do?

She ran her horse as fast as she could into the Roman night. Tonight, she was Lorian. And tonight, she was unshackled.

[mistymark]

VIGILANTE/S VII

part seven // 6.1k words // superpowered!au // series masterlist

summary; in which you consider yourself somewhat of a vigilante.

warnings; swearing, suggestive (?) content not really, lots of swearing, mention of death

The following days are almost boring. Almost normal. Jaehyun had cancelled all your training sessions, even the ones that wouldn’t cause any harm. You spend your days poring over all the information the team had gathered about the Red Crown and their guests, and running errands in preparation. 

A few hours after your last training session with Jeno, he’d caught you and read out all the information his girlfriend had sent him about what to wear to the ball and you’d spent the evening buying floor-length dresses, shoes that were bound to hurt your feet, glamourous jewellery and makeup products you didn’t even know the purpose of.

“What is that?” Donghyuck leant over to see what you were looking at on the laptop. You were both sitting on your bed; you were quizzing him on the Crown leaders while you looked at makeup. He was slouching, leaning against you as his eyes scanned the screen.

“Eyelashes,” you murmured. Most of them looked too big to be natural but you figured it would only help you fit in at the ball. You added a pair of lashes to your basket – they were on the smaller side, but you figured they would be easier to use.

“Are they… are they real?” Donghyuck furrowed his brow as he looked at them.

You paused, looking away from your laptop for a moment. “God, I hope not.” You both burst out into fits of giggles.

“Most of the Crowns are Shields,” he said, flipping through the information. “Except for the leaders.”

“Mentalists.” You shiver. You’d never really liked Mentalists – people who could manipulate the mind, bend the wills of others, alter who they are. Shields weren’t so bad – sure, they were dangerous, able to manipulate physical things, but at least you could see what you were dealing with. They surged with power – a type of power that wasn’t dark. Mentalists had dark power, a kind that made it both invigorating and terrifying to use.

You have to remind yourself that Doyoung and Johnny are Mentalists, too.

“This guy’s bulletproof,” he points to a photo of one of the Shields listed. You remembered the power from the night you’d witnessed the Senator’s kidnapping, but the smiling face in the photo isn’t familiar.

“I’m done,” you say, pushing the computer from your lap. You’d purchased hundreds of dollars worth of makeup that you’d never used before, hoping that you could figure it out before the ball. “I can’t order anymore.”

“I’ve got four fittings tomorrow,” he mumbles as you shut down the computer and place it on the ground beside your bed.

“Here?”

“No, some place Jaehyun goes. You wanna come?”

You shake your head no, everything you’d ordered would have to be picked up tomorrow and you were hoping to get it all done so you wouldn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the week. “I have to go pick all this up,” you gesture to the screen.

He groans and slides down the headboard of your bed like a dead fish, and you offer him an amused smile. “Ugh.”

Someone knocks on the door. The door clicks open and Johnny pokes his head through the small gap, “Dinner’s here.”

You groan and push Donghyuck off your bed, knowing he wouldn’t move on his own, “Come on, you bag of bones.”

He grunts as he hits the floor but he stands up eagerly, “It’s Thai.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s Chenle’s turn to order – he always chooses Thai.” You’re reminded of how much of a family they are when Donghyuck smiles to himself, grabbing a hoodie from his bed and sliding it over his head as he walks out of the room, ready to have dinner with the rest of the team.

It’s the first time you’ve had dinner with the whole team, and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would. Jaehyun sits at the head of the table, with Johnny on the other end, and the rest of the team find seats wherever they can.

“You’re in my seat,” Jaemin points at the chair Chenle is sitting in.

“Fuck off,” Chenle turns back to the food, reaching for a plastic container of rice. Immediately, Jaehyun stands up and grabs Chenle’s glass, sitting it down in front of Mark instead. Jaemin’s actions are fast, but Chenle anticipates his attack, slamming his hands onto the table’s surface to hold him steady as Jaemin attempts to wrench him from his chair. Chenle’s finger hits a piece of cutlery, causing it to flip and almost knock over a nearby bottle of chilli sauce. If it hadn’t been moved, Chenle’s glass would have been knocked over. Chenle snaps his fingers, and Jaemin’s hands immediately become encased in fire, causing him to shriek and step back.

Chenle shakes his head, reaching for his wayward piece of cutlery and digging into his food, “It’s not even burning you.”

Jaemin mouths Chenle’s words, shaking his head from side to side in a mocking manner, before dropping into the empty seat beside him with a huff. “Pass me the rice.”

“Say please,” Chenle smirks.

“Can you pass the sauce, please, Y/n?” Mark asks from beside you. You nod and reach for it.

“You know, that ice girl got kicked out of the finals,” Renjun says, biting into a piece of pork.

“No! Really?” Mark’s eyes get wide as he looks at Renjun.

“Yeah, she lost to that guy who can turn things to stone,” Renjun explains. You hardly kept up with the Super fights, but you listen anyway. You’d honestly thought that ice would beat stone, but when Renjun excitedly fills you and Mark in on how she lost, you begin to understand how easily she was beaten.

Jaehyun laughs at something Doyoung has just said, and when you look at him, you’re reminded of how young he is. He looks ten years younger like this, laughing at the dinner table with his friends, eating fried rice in his pyjamas. They might not be his pyjamas, but compared to his normal attire, the drawstring pants and plain tee is the most relaxed outfit you’d seen him wear.

At the other end of the table, Johnny is leaning in to talk to Donghyuck, his face serious as he nods. His brows are furrowed and you wonder what Donghyuck has said to prompt that response. Suddenly, Johnny’s eyes snap to yours and you quickly look away, feeling awkward after witnessing whatever that exchange was. You tune in to the conversation around you.

“You’re coming to the fittings tomorrow, right?” Renjun asks Jeno, but the latter shakes his head. “No, I’ve already got my suit.”

“What colour is it?” You ask.

“Blue.” You feel your eyebrows raise. You’d always picked him as the type to only ever wear black. Even now, he wasn’t wearing anything that was lighter than a dark grey.

The dinner talk drifts from the ball to the fights to the arguments over who gets the last of each dish until finally all the food is gone, and you stand up to clear the dishes.

“I’ll do it,” Jaemin says, quietly. You blink. He takes the plate from your hands and begins walking to the kitchen.

“If I could do all my chores in ten seconds flat, I’d offer, too,” Donghyuck deadpans. He stretches in his seat and yawns, “Unfortunately, I don’t, so…” He shrugs and then rises from his chair, kicking it back under the table.

“Jaemin’s on clean-up duty,” Jeno’s voice is quiet. “You can leave it.” He walks away from the table.

You start stacking some of the empty containers together as everyone else disperses.

“You know,” you turn to see Jaemin walking back out from the kitchen, that signature smirk on his face. “It would be much faster for me if you didn’t help.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” his tone has changed – he’s being sincere. “I can do it at my speed, but I don’t want to if you’re standing here.”

“What-?”

“You know when a car goes past you really fast and you get that strong force of wind? Imagine that but ten times harder.” You mouth drops into a slight ‘o’. During your training, you’d found it more difficult to train with him – your reflexes were fast, but you found it difficult to judge distance when you were using his superspeed. It had never occurred to you that he could go faster than he was letting on. “It’s okay, really. You can go.”

You offer him an apologetic smile and leave the mess to him, making your way to the corridor to see what the others were up to. When you turn back around to see how Jaemin is doing, the table is cleared and shiny with water, having recently been wiped down and cleaned. “Huh, what do you know?”

You feel a rush of air and roll your eyes when you see Jaemin leaning against his own doorframe at the end of the hall, “Hey, slowcoach.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, stopping, “Nicely done.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s a few feet from you, stepping forward at what you would call a normal speed as if he’d walked the whole way like that. “I try my best,” his voice is deeper, quieter. His signature smirk remains on his face. He passes you, knocking his shoulder against yours as he walks back out of the hallway. You wonder if he’s going out.

A door nearby is wrenched open, breaking your train of thought and Renjun marches into your room, raising his voice, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

You follow him inside, confused, only to see Donghyuck on his bed, dead. Again.

“We’re not even supposed to be training this week, you fucking moron.” You’re about to ask him why he’s yelling at a dead guy, but he continues. “I know that’s not where you are but-”

Now, you’re thoroughly confused. He doesn’t notice you’re there until he turns around, “Oh, Y/n. Sorry. I’m mad at Donghyuck.”

“I can see that.” When he’s standing so close, you have easy access to his power, and for the first time, you reach for it. A sense of cold washes over your body. Like you’ve just stepped into a freezer. You had felt it when he was around, but you hadn’t thought it was actually coming from him. You’d never been able to name his power – just feel it. But now you understood what he could do. “You… you can communicate with the dead?”

He looks surprised. “You didn’t know?” he frowns, and you feel almost embarrassed.

“Uh, no?”

“Oh. Okay, then,” he reaches a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Well, uh, I can talk to dead people, yeah.” He straightens, dropping his hand back down to his side, “Actually, it’s more like the dead can talk to me. I can exist in both worlds – the dead and the living – so I can see them and talk to them… yeah.”

“You can talk to Donghyuck?” You gesture to the body on the bed.

“He’s right there,” Renjun using his left hand to point directly to his right, determinedly not looking in that direction. “He says hi.”

You look at the blank space Renjun had pointed to, “Hey.” You turn your attention back to Renjun, about to ask another question, when a loud bark interrupts. Bruce is standing at the door, growling at something in the room. He looks bigger, angrier like this, less like the adorable dog who had sat in his fluffy bed in the gym and watched you train.

“Not now, C, go play.” You only now realise that the dog was looking in the direction of Donghyuck.

“Your dog can see ghosts,” the words come out in a disbelieving tone.

Renjun laughs, “What? No. Just me. He just hates Donghyuck.” Bruce is still standing in the doorway, a low, rumbling growl echoing in his chest as he stares into the room.

Renjun’s tone is stern now, warning, “Cerberus…” The dog’s attention snaps to its owner and his ears twitch, his tail beginning to wag slowly. “Go play.”

When the dog begins to trot away, you hear Jaemin, his voice high, like he’s talking to a baby “Hey, Brucey! Hello, Brucey Baby! How’s my good boy?”

“He’s normally more obedient,” Renjun says, apologetic. “Something about Donghyuck gets him all riled up.”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “Did you just call him Cerberus?”

“Yeah,” Renjun says, dismissively. Then, “Bruce is just a nickname, what we call out at the park. His name is actually Cerberus, though.”

“Like Hades’ dog. The god of the underworld.”

Renjun’s smile widens, “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

You find yourself matching his smile, “You named him?”

“Of course, I named him.” He almost sounds offended.

You nod approvingly and let out a laugh. You had not expected this from Renjun at all – he was small and thin and had a natural aptitude for computer science. You’d expected him to be, well, nerdier.

“He says he’ll be alive in about an hour. Do you wanna watch a movie?”

You nod, “Yeah. What movie?”

“I was thinking-,” Renjun cuts himself off, his head turning to the side quickly, a stern frown on his face. “No. You stay here and think about what you’ve done.”

You laugh, “Does he want to watch, too?”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants to do,” Renjun looks at Donghyuck’s body. “Idiot.”

You follow Renjun out of your room and trail after him. Mark, Chenle and Jaemin – with Bruce – end up inviting themselves to your movie night and you spread out in Renjun’s room to watch the movie. He has the biggest room as far as you can tell – multiple desks and computer screens are situated around the room. You notice a stack of expensive laptops on one of the desks and almost laugh. There are also a lot of beanbag chairs in his room, which you’re surprised to see.

“Does anyone want popcorn?” Jaemin asks from the doorway, and you all nod eagerly. He smiles at you and then disappears, the doorway only remaining vacant for all of two seconds before he’s walking in again with bowls and a bag of popcorn kernels in his hand.

“When I said I wanted popcorn, I did mean popped popcorn,” you say as you watch him spoon a few kernels into his mouth, letting it out loud crunching noises as he chews.

He juts his chin up, gesturing over to Chenle and Renjun. The former is holding his hand over Renjun’s bowl of popcorn, and you watch as bits of popcorn jump up in turn. He does the same for Mark and then himself.

He turns to you, “Do you want me to-?” He almost sounds shy. “Since you’re not supposed to use my abilities.”

You give him a grateful smile and nod, “Yes, please.” You pass him the bowl and he lets the bowl rest in his lap as he grabs the remote and presses play on the movie. When all the kernels have been popped, he passes it back without a word.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You swear, in the dark, you could see the lightest flicker of a smile on his face. Maybe it was just the light from the movie projector.

It’s the first time you’ve managed to have a sleep-in and you almost don’t like it. Waking up to bright sunlight and an empty warehouse is almost unsettling.

“They’ve gone to the suit fitting,” Jeno says when you walk down the corridor in your pyjamas. Jeno is sitting at the table, with one hand wrapped around a pale yellow mug of tea and the other holding his phone. He locks it when you approach.

“All of them?” He nods. “Damn, okay.”

“Why?”

“I was going to ask Jaehyun if I could borrow a car to go pick up the stuff I bought.” You pad into the kitchen, barefoot. You pour yourself some of the leftover hot water and make your own tea.

“I can take you.”

You turn around in surprise, “Really?”

He shrugs, “Sure.”

You take the seat directly across from him, “Thank you. What time do you want to leave?”

The expression on his face almost makes you laugh. He pointedly looks from his own clothing to yours, “Whenever you’re ready.”

You nod and almost ask him why he’s not at the suit fitting. Why does he have a suit already if the others don’t?

“How long will they be gone?”

“With Donghyuck and Jaemin there? At least a few hours.” You laugh and he looks at you, almost confused, as if he didn’t think what he’d said deserved a laugh.

Once you’re ready, you meet Jeno in the garage, quickly running down the steps to the lower level. He’s leaning against the wall, texting. A helmet sits at his feet, another held in his hand, and you notice he’s wearing a fitted motorcycle jacket.

The garage is a large space, resembling a small aircraft hangar. Vehicles are parked in an ordered fashion with numbers painted on the concrete floor, as if you were standing in a mall’s parking garage and not Jaehyun’s personal garage.

A few of the spots are empty, whatever vehicles were there were now being used by the others.

You eye the motorbikes standing in row only a few feet from Jeno, ignoring the helmet Jeno’s holding out to you, “I’ve never ridden a motorbike before.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not about to start,” he slides his phone into his pocket before reaching for your hand and wrapping your fingers around the helmet. “I’m driving.”

“We can’t take a car?”

He stops. “I-,” he looks away from you, and you wonder if the slight blush on his face is from embarrassment or the leather jacket. “I can’t drive.”

“Motorbike it is then,” you nod, staring at the bike. It was huge and looked pretty stable – you weren’t afraid of motorcycles, but you would have preferred to take a car. Especially this close to the ball.

He handed you a leather jacket that vaguely matched his own, “Wear Jaemin’s. He won’t mind.”

You take it and slide your arms through the sleeves, zipping it up as far as the zipper would allow. The sleeves were a little too long on you, but you didn’t mind.

He has to help you with the helmet, but once he’s satisfied that it fits and won’t come flying off in the rare instance that you were to crash, he throws his leg over the seat and holds out a hand to help you stabilise as you follow.

You didn’t notice the large ramp at one end of the garage but you certainly notice when the roof over it slides open to reveal a large, empty room. The room above is made completely of stone, with the exception of one wall, which is actually a metal gate that rolls upwards to let you out.

Jeno doesn’t bother with any warnings like “Hold on” or “Ready?” so you have to stop yourself from shrieking in surprise when you surge forward and up the ramp. Other than that, he’s a pretty safe rider – you make it to the shop in one piece.

You pick up your shopping with no trouble, though the store managers keep trying to offer you refreshments and encouraging you to try on more dresses. You wonder if that’s common in stores like this – where the cheapest gown is over two thousand dollars – or if they just think you’re wealthy enough to buy more.

“Do you want to get lunch?” You ask Jeno, and you hope he says yes.

He surprisingly says yes. “I know a good place,” he cocks his head to the right and starts walking down the street. He has to use his head to direct you because he’s carrying two of the three bags you’ve just collected.

You follow him, “You come here often?”

“Are you hitting on me?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide and you look at him in shock because, no, you weren’t hitting on him. At all.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile, “I’m joking.” Shaking his head, he continues, “It’s where Jaemin and I used to go when we first moved in. It’s not far from here.”

You eat in almost total silence. Not because it’s awkward or you have nothing to talk about, but because the food is just so good. It’s the first time you’ve eaten lunch that wasn’t leftovers, or some form of breakfast food. “Can I get you anything else?” The waitress is a slim girl about your age, who focuses her sole attention on Jeno.

Jeno looks at you for an answer, but you shake your head. “No, thank you,” he says, handing the card with the order number back to her.

She lingers for a second, disappointed, and then nods, offering a wide, perfect smile, “Let me know if you change your mind!” Something in her voice makes you think she’s not just talking about the food.

When she walks away, Jeno returns to his food. “What?” He says when he finally notices the look on your face.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ She’s into you! She was so obvious about it, too.”

“Oh,” he looks taken aback. He looks into his bowl, “I didn’t notice.” And you can tell he’s being honest.

“You know what’s interesting?”

“What?” His tone suggests he doesn’t care.

“She’s not a Normal.”

He looks up at you in surprise. You know he’s interested when he leans forward a little, “How do you know?”

“I can feel it.”

“Can you tell what she can do?”

You laugh, “She photosynthesises.”

“What?” He looks at you like you’re insane. “She’s not green.”

For some reason, this makes you laugh even harder, “What?”

“I mean, she could have accessory pigments but-,” he shakes his head. “She’s pale as fuck, though. Surely that wouldn’t be enough.”

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

Now, he turns in his seat to look at the waitress, and she notices immediately, almost dropping a coffee she’s carrying when he doesn’t look away, looking her up and down.

“Stop,” you laugh, tapping his hand with your pointer finger to get his attention again. You can practically feel the smugness radiating from the waitress, and you don’t know why it bothers you. “You’re making her flustered.”

“That makes no sense,” he thinks aloud, his mind still on her ability.

“You can crush a car with your bare hand. Jaemin can run at the same speed as an airplane flies and she doesn’t make sense?”

His brows furrow in thought, “Unless she’s not using visible light…” He leans forward, a spark in his eye, “What if she can just use radiation? That’s so cool.” Something on your face makes him clear his throat and settle back in his seat, “I used to be a science student.” His tone is shy, almost bashful, and he sneaks one last look at the waitress, much to her happiness.

“Used to?”

“I deferred when I started training more, I didn’t want to do it if I wasn’t going to be able to dedicate my time to it, you know?” He can tell you’re surprised, “You ready to go?”

You don’t want to push it so you nod and gather your bags to leave. Jeno pays for both meals and you wait for him by the door. When he leaves the small café, he’s still putting the change into his wallet. You catch sight of the receipt, most of the printed words illegible due to the bright red handwriting covering half of it. Jeno barely spares a second glance at it before he throws it in the trashcan outside.

“She gave you her number?” You watch him in amusement.

“Yeah.” His eyes catch sight of something back inside. “I think she saw me throw it out.”

You laugh at the look on his face, one of almost pure terror. “Come on. We should get back.”

When Jeno parks his bike in its spot, you notice that the garage is filled again – the rest of the team were back.

“There you are!” Donghyuck says, walking down the corridor. “Come check this out.” He grabs your hand and pulls you into your shared room, leading you to stand in front of the cupboard doors. A suit is displayed on the front, the hanger dangling dangerously from the top of the door. Jeno follows you inside, silently putting your bags down on your bed.

“What do you think?” Donghyuck asks, as you nod in thanks to Jeno. He nods back, pulling the door closed behind him.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, looking at the suit. It was black with red thread detailing. It wasn’t as noticeable as most of Jaehyun’s suits – much more subtle – but you thought it would look amazing on Donghyuck, the warmth of the red thread bringing out the warmth in his skin tone. “You’re gonna look great.”

He looks at you sideways, a smile on his face. The smile in his eyes makes him look younger, and you realise how much he’s looking forward to wearing the suit, to attending the ball.

“Can I see yours?”

“Sure,” you shrug, moving to the bags on your bed and sliding the boxes out delicately. Donghyuck helps you remove the lids and arrange them on the bed so you can see them all. You were glad Jaemin was wearing black, because it meant you could wear anything and it would look good. You’d bought four dresses, because you didn’t want to buy one and then have it fit poorly. You did fully intend to return the unworn dresses afterwards, though.

“I like this one,” he points to the red one, still in its box.

“Mm…” you stare at the dresses. One’s a bright red, simple in comparison to the others. It’s classier, using the colour as its main feature. A beautiful green dress sits in its box beside it, the material catching the light in beautiful ways – illuminating different greens in the dress’ fabric. The midnight blue dress is simultaneously the most revealing and most regal – the gold detailing along the bodice makes it look like a princess’ dress, though the deep neckline and tight fabric would make it a little scandalous. The last dress was a plain black – beautiful and simple, but would probably be your last resort if the others didn’t work out.

“Donghyuck, Johnny wants to see you,” Doyoung’s voice carries down the corridor, so when you look up he’s only just walking into the room.

Donghyuck nods at him and ducks out of the room, his pace quickening as he goes to find Johnny.

Doyoung notices your frown and walks around the bed to stand beside you, “What are you doing?”

“Debating which dress to wear. This one is a beautiful colour but I’m worried it’ll look to revealing. This one is a little shorter and it might not look formal enough, you know?”

Doyoung nods, the expression on his face serious. You know he’s mocking you, but you don’t say anything.

Mark interrupts your thought process by stopping in the doorway, “You called?”

You turn to Doyoung – neither of you had said anything, so you presumed Doyoung had summoned Mark using his abilities.

“Can you do Y/n a favour?”

Mark nods instantly, “Of course. What do you need me to do?”

“Try on these dresses,” Doyoung tries to hold back his laughter at Mark’s confused and then bewildered expression.

It’s weird dressing yourself. Mark had shapeshifted into you, keeping his eyes clenched shut as he stepped into a dress. “Can I look?” Once you’ve secured the zipper, you nod. When you realise he can’t see you, you say yes.”

“This is ridiculous,” you shake your head, looking at your second self in the mirror. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s okay,” it’s your voice, but you recognise the waver in voice. He’s nervous. “Ready?” You nod. He’s wearing the green dress and you’re in the black one. You definitely prefer the green one.

You open the door and make your way into the main part of the warehouse, Mark beside you. Doyoung looks up from a large floorplan of the Red Crown’s headquarters and he almost laughs.

Jaemin’s sitting at the table nearby, eating something and he does a double take when he looks up. He looks between Doyoung and where you and Mark are standing, wondering if he’s going insane.

“You see two Y/n’s, too, right?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung nods and stands up straighter, analysing the dresses. “The green one.” You nod, turning around to head back to your room and try on the blue dress.

When you step out, Johnny is laughing at the other you, as Mark self-consciously crosses his arms over his – your – body. Chenle’s eyes widen – he’d just woken up from the looks of it – from where he was making some tea in the kitchen and he looks almost horrified at the two versions of you.

“Do you think this is too informal? Too revealing?” You ask, spinning around. “The neckline is too deep, right?” Your hand subconsciously moves to cover the exposed skin.

Your eyes search your audience. Doyoung cocks his head to the side, thinking. Johnny is still staring at Mark, laughing. Your eyes meet Jaemin’s and he gulps, “Uh, the green one.” He stands from his seat and heads to the kitchen to put his dish in the sink.

Chenle doesn’t say anything as he follows Jaemin down the hallway, presumably heading back to bed.

“The blue one is really nice,” Johnny admits. “But if you’re worried about the neckline, wear the green one. You don’t want to look uncomfortable the whole night.”

Doyoung nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I think I would be distracted if I wore this,” you respond, honestly.

You don’t catch it but Johnny’s attention drifts to something behind you, mumbling, “You’re not the only one.”

Once you’ve changed into the red dress, you immediately like it more than the others. It’s attention-grabbing but not too obvious, giving you an almost subtle beauty. You step out into the hall to find Doyoung and Johnny looking at something on the blueprints and Jaehyun standing opposite them, his back to you, discussing something about the plan.

“Okay, this is the last one, I promise,” you say, though it’s mostly directed at Mark. He’s relieved, you can tell, though he would never say that he hated this. He felt awkward being you, being analysed in the dress.

Johnny and Doyoung lean to the side to look around Jaehyun and stop. Neither of them say anything. Jaehyun turns to you and Mark, he clearly hadn’t noticed Mark standing there when he was talking to Doyoung and Johnny.

He looks surprised for a split second before his brows furrow, “Don’t you have something more important to do?” He’s looking at Mark. Mark nods and turns around to make his way back to your room, which was being used as a changing room.

Doyoung’s voice is in your mind, They’re both good.

Jaehyun turns to Doyoung and Johnny, “Meet me in my office.” They nod and Johnny begins to roll up the large piece of paper as Doyoung grabs the two coffees sitting on the table and they walk into the office.

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything for a moment, but you half expect him to scold you for wasting precious time. He doesn’t, ever the gentleman, not wanting to label you a distraction or any other objectifying term. You were already the only female in the team, and the last thing he wanted to do was offend you.

He turns to leave, then hesitates, “I like the red one.”

You’re frozen in place, your hands fisting the dress’ material in your hands and you nod. It takes a moment for both of you to realise you have to be somewhere, and you point behind you, “I should help-”

He nods, “Yes. I need to-”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

You move at the same time and when you’re sure he can’t see you, you shake your head at yourself. “Oh, thank god,” Mark’s sitting in your room, perched on Donghyuck’s bed, still mimicking your appearance and still in the dress. “I didn’t want to… you know.”

“No,” you shake your head dismissively. “Thank you.” He gives you a smile and covers his eyes with his hands so you can unzip the dress. The experience is surreal. You wonder if your body really looks like this – the way you see it now in front of you. Just quickly, you step back from behind Mark and check out your ass – you’ve never seen it like this.

“Can you pass me my shirt?” You grab the baggy t-shirt he was wearing and he blindly slides it over his head. The shirt is baggy on him, but dangles a little lower on your shorter frame so your body is covered.

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Thank you so much for that. I know it was-”

“It’s okay,” Mark laughs, shooing you out the door. Through the closed door, he yells, “I’m not looking!”

You laugh and only a few seconds later, he’s opening the door again, fully clothed and looking like his normal self.

“I didn’t see anything, promise.”

“It’s fine, Mark.”

“We could’ve just used pictures, you know?”

“I think Doyoung would’ve convinced you to do it even if you’d said no.”

“True,” he laughs. Then, “Did you end up picking?”

“Yeah, this one.” You gesture to the dress you were still wearing.

He nods, letting out a low whistle, “So I wore that thing for nothing.”

“It was the runner up,” you remind him.

He chuckles, “The red looks really pretty on you.”

“The green one looks really pretty on you,” you tease, making him scrunch his nose.

“I’ll see you later, then,” he says, saluting you as he heads back to his room. “If I don’t help Chenle now, he’ll probably burn my suit.”

“Then you might actually have to wear the green dress,” you nod, solemnly.

His eyes widen, “Chenle! I’m coming!” You laugh as he rushes back to his room and you return to your own to box up the rest of the dresses and change out of the dress you were still wearing.

A knock on the door alerts you to Jaemin’s presence and you open the door. He’s surprised to see you in casual clothes, having expected to see you still in one of the dresses. “That was fast,” he says.

“Mark was good help,” you smile.

“That was so weird,” he shakes his head, his eyes closed as if he’s trying to forget what he saw. “I thought I’d been drugged or something.” You laugh and a serious look crosses his face, “Wasn’t it weird? I mean, he… he saw you naked.” He steps forward a little to lean his shoulder against the doorframe; it’s something of a habit for him now.

You don’t step backward, refusing to give him the satisfaction of getting to you. You raise an eyebrow, “You jealous?”

He laughs, “Actually, yeah, kind of.”

You roll your eyes, but your loud laugh kind of counters its intended effect, “Oh, my God, Jaemin!” When you’ve stopped laughing, you explain, “He kept his eyes closed the whole time, I’ll have you know.”

“Bullshit,” he raises his eyebrows, shoving his hands into his pockets, leaning down to be almost eye level with you. “He totally looked.”

You shake your head at him, “You’re an ass.”

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“What would you suggest I do, then?”

“Get me to help instead.”

“You’d definitely look.”

“But I wouldn’t lie about it.”

There’s a moment of silence. You hadn’t noticed the way you’d both been leaning in closer every time you’d spoken, but now the space between you – or lack thereof – is very evident. He seems to notice this at the same time you do, judging by the way his eyes dart from your eyes downwards and back up again.

He lowers his voice, but he doesn’t pull away. “Which one did you end up choosing?”

You’re about to tell him but you choose to give him a sly smile instead, “It’s a surprise.” You step backwards, attempting to shield the boxes behind you.

He quirks an eyebrow at you and pushes off the doorframe with his shoulder, “I’m looking forward to it, then.” And, with that, he’s gone.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

"the knight who pierced the king's heart"

Chapter 6

Synopsis: The plot arrives! Lisa worries about her relationship. A mysterious intruder throws everything into chaos.

Pairing: Julius Novachrono x OC

Note: Enjoy!! I am introducing a new little "arc" here... they needed a wrench thrown in their plans. Let me know what you think!!!

A03 LINK

“Thank you all for coming!” Julius raised his glass of wine, a smile on his face as the dinner was coming to a close. Everyone was happy and fed, and Julius was happier than any of them at the moment. “It’s been too long since we’ve done something like this…”

The rest of the guests loudly agreed, all smiles as they raised their glasses as well. But a moment later, as everyone started to sip, a familiar scold came from one side of the table.

“Lisa! Don’t chug it down like that, that’s rude.”

“Oops, sorry, captain.”

Lisa giggled to herself, putting her glass down. She had never been at a meal this fancy before, and had enjoyed it immensely.

Fuegoleon let out a sigh, exchanging a glance with Sei. “Maybe I need to start teaching the others in the squad manners… and you’re far too young to be drinking that much! Don’t you remember what happened last time you were tipsy?”

“Oh, yeah I do.” Lisa couldn’t help but look at the head of the table, catching Julius’s eye for a brief moment. He smiled, then gave a subtle wink.

“Everything turned out okay…

...

…

“So, we have to keep this secret, right?”

Lisa had been the one to mention that problem as their tour of the castle came to an end.

“Yes… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I get it… if someone finds out about us, I’m dead meat. But, you know-”

To Julius’s surprise, Lisa winked playfully.

“It’s kind of fun to do something against the rules… and in a way…”

Her smile softened a little, becoming more genuine. Her cheeks heated up a little.

“...It proves that you actually like me… otherwise you wouldn’t go through the trouble.”

“Oh… I suppose that’s true… But-” Julius stopped walking, reaching out and taking her hand. He grinned, pulling her close for one last, sneaky kiss.

“I’m going to prove that I care for you in many other ways too… I promise.”

Lisa nodded, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the taste of his lips for that brief moment.

…

…

That’s right… everything turned out okay.

Once everyone was gone, Julius skipped up to his room, grinning to himself like an idiot. As far as he was concerned, the hardest part was behind him; Lisa had accepted the risks and had accepted him… although, there was something still bothering him about the way she reacted.

Lisa… she always seems so confident and sure of herself. Yet, she doubted that my feelings for her were real, because she believes herself to be so far below me. His grin faltered a bit at the thought. But she’s wrong… I’m still just a man. I have feelings like everyone else. Lisa, you would be worthy no matter who I was. A man, a king, a knight… it doesn’t matter. Because, like you said, we were meant to meet each other.

Once locked away in his room, Julius gleefully pulled out his journal and flipped to a page in the middle. It was a long list, and at the top the title read “ Things to buy Lisa.”

Well, at least now I don’t have to hold back on gifts…

…

…

…

“Lisa! Those are some nice earrings you’ve got there.”

Lisa looked up, her one good hand awkwardly holding a broom as she attempted (key word: attempted) to sweep out the dust in the corner of this hallway. She had been hard at work with chores for the past two weeks, and Fuegoleon still hadn’t given her the ok to go on missions or even patrols any more. Fortunately, this gave her a lot of free time… lot’s of time to indulge in other activities.

“Oh… thanks Captain.” Lisa smiled, panicking a little already but keeping a smile on her face. “They were- uh- a gift.”

Fuegoleon raised an eyebrow, eyeing up the jewelry. Eeeek- I knew I should have worn this around the base- Lisa thought to herself, trying not to seem on edge in front of her captain. But they’re so pretty! The earrings were gold, shaped into little clovers. Lisa was absolutely enamoured with them, the first gift Julius had brought her. Every time they saw each other since that Captain's meeting two weeks ago, Julius brought her something small as a gift, but these earrings were her favorite. Wearing them outside of a date or her room was a risk, but she just couldn’t help it.

“Gift? From who?”

Fuegoleon’s eyes suddenly widened as he started to connect dots.

“Are you... “

Before he could finish his sentence, Lisa decided to speak up and put herself out of her misery.

“-Yeah! I’m seeing someone.”

Fuegoleon’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “OH-” He exclaimed loudly, cutting himself off. The man gulped, then lowered his voice. “When on Earth did you have time for anything like that?! Is he on the squad?”

Lisa couldn’t help but giggle a little, but was still feeling very nervous. “You know… he’s not on the squad, but I’ve had time lately to get to know other people, too! And it’s not that weird. You have Sei, after all.”

“Yeah, but Sei and I are together all the time, it was easy to have that relationship…” His brow furrowed a bit. “I don’t want you to stretch yourself too thin-”

“Don’t worry, Fuegoleon-” Lisa assured him, flashing a little smile. “It’s easy to have this relationship too…”

… I wish.

Luckily, Fuegoleon dropped the subject after that. Lisa finished up her chores and headed up to her room for a couple minutes before dinner. The sunlight was dim outside her window, her room shadowed as well. Almost glum.

What am I doing…

She reached up and started to take out her earrings, carefully removing the backing and placing the item carefully by her mirror.

I need to be more careful… I don’t really care about getting in trouble, but if Julius got in trouble because of me…

Lisa looked up at her emotionless reflection, who offered her no comfort.

… I couldn’t live with myself.

With an angry sigh, Lisa turned away and flopped down on her bed, one arm spread out beside her. Her ceiling was not the most interesting thing in her room, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.

Everything has to be so complicated… and Julius…

Was it worth it?

To dance with danger so closely, where one wrong move would mean humiliation for him and doom for her?

Lisa had no doubt of what would happen if they were caught. Interclass relationships were basically taboo. It didn’t really matter when it was between two knights, since most knights were seen as equals to each other… but for someone like Lisa to taint the hand of the King himself… it was on par with sin. She would be kicked out of the knights, sent home, and never allowed to see him again. And Julius would be humiliated for ever speaking to her.

And yet… I can’t help but want to push us further… and further…

She loved how it felt to be in danger. Fighting, and her whole career as a knight, lent her much experience with danger. But before, only her life was on the line. For this particular case, something far more precious was at risk.

Him…

Getting to meet Julius was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to Lisa, she was smart enough to know that. And despite all the doubts she had in herself, there was never a moment that he wasn’t able to reassure her. To have someone so kind and understanding in her life…

I can’t lose him… I can’t-

But how on earth were they supposed to last?

There was no world in which they would be able to reveal their relationship.

So… no matter how much Lisa wanted him to stay…. One day, Julius would leave. No matter what he said, he would leave.

And she would be alone once again, with nothing but memories and a pair of earrings left behind.

Lisa couldn’t see the ceiling any more. It was warped by the water pooling in her eyes. Her arm came up to cover her face, even though she was alone, as the tears let gravity take over and streak down her cheeks.

I’m sorry…. I’m sorry I can’t be enough…

………

………

Far away, Julius was also laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. But he was smiling.

...I can’t wait to see Lisa tomorrow.

It was almost dinner time, and he was ready to go, but the king couldn’t help but get caught up in his daydream. Julius felt like a different person around Lisa, a person that he felt more comfortable being than whatever everyone here in the castle wanted him to be.

I want to be that person all the time… somehow…

Would he be able to keep being King if he changed? Or… did he already feel ready to sacrifice that part of his life to make room for Lisa?

I’m sure I’ll figure something out. I’m the King after all… I’ll use my authority to protect her when the time comes. He closed his eyes for a moment, his smile widening. Ooo, don’t get ahead of yourself, Julius… that won’t be for a while. For now, I just want to enjoy everything… and wait for her cast to finally come off…

He was jolted out of that fantasy as a familiar banging rang out from his closed door.

“JULIUS- your dinner is getting cold!!!!”

“Ach! Sorry, Marx!”

It wasn’t long before Julius walked into the dining room, relieved to see that only one place was set at the table, meaning that Augustus wasn’t joining him. “Enjoy- I have some work to do, so I’ll see you after. Eat quickly! You have work too!” Marx commanded before turning and running out of the room before Julius could even answer.

“Oh… alright.” Julius sighed before taking his seat, his hand immediately going for his glass of wine. Marx would make a better King than me. He’s always on top of everything! Maybe I should quit altogether…

He cut into his steak, still lost in his thoughts. One of the servants stepped forward to refill his wine. Julius mumbled thank you, still lost in thought.

Quit… that doesn’t sound so bad. I finally could take the time to travel the country… it’s been a long time.

Bite after bite after bite. Julius worked his way through his meal, and another glass of wine. Once again, the servant refilled it. This time, Julius didn’t just sip, he gulped until it was gone. By now, a pleasant buzz had overtaken his mind. The wine was so sweet, yet savory… with a strangely enchanting bitterness underlying it all. The servant didn’t step away this time, watching and waiting for Julius to be done. With a last happy gulp, Julius put his glass back on the table, smiling to himself. “This wine is amazing… what’s the secret ingredient?”

The servant didn’t answer for a moment, taking the moment to fill up the glass one last time. Julius didn’t complain, smiling up at the man before starting to drink again.

“...tranquilizer.”

It took Julius a moment to realize where that word came from. He paused his drinking, then slowly put the glass down. He blinked slowly, just now realizing that this buzz wasn’t the kind he usually got from alcohol. He considered himself to have a very good stomach for wine, so maybe it was strange that just 3 glasses got him feeling like this…

“...what did you say?”

“Tranquilizer.”

Julius blinked. Yes, he heard that right. Slowly, he turned in his seat, his vision warping, to look up at the face of the servant.

“You… you don’t work here…”

The man chuckled, completely unfazed as Julius struggled to stay sitting upright, his voice already slurring. The tranquilizer was quick, and he knew the end was near. “No, I don’t… don’t you recognize me, Julius?”

Julius did not, but that wasn’t his concern right now. His hand suddenly grabbed his steak knife, and in one smooth move, swung it up at the man’s neck.

But, it was no use. Julius was weakened, and his wrist was quickly grabbed and the attack halted. Panting, Julius felt sweat start to bead on his forehead and his stomach turned. What? What’s going on- why is this guy drugging me- Am I about to be kidnapped?

The man chuckled, wrenching the king’s wrist until the knife clattered to the ground. “Look at you… the great Stag, felled by just one little chemical.”

Great Stag… that’s me, right?

Everything started to fade away. Other people were in the room now, emerging from nowhere.

“I’m going to enjoy this… Captain.”

…

Captain?

Everything went dark.

The night was dark.

“We’ll survive this together… I promise.”

…

…

“Captain… Patri…”

“He was taken by the enemy.”

"We can't just leave him behind! Let's go save him!"

...

...

That was... the hardest decision I ever made...

…

…

“There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

…

…

"I'm sorry."

OH NO!!! What happened to Julius? And who are his mysterious captors? And most importantly... what will Lisa do once she finds out?

[miss-tc-nova]

Hey - Riku x Reader

Aha, Xeha-non! I tricked you! I wasn’t writing Roxas, I was writing Riku! It’s about time I gave this boy some love. 

~~~~~

               “Hey handsome.” I slide the book from the desk and take its place, grinning down at the boy. A snowy brow arches in response, before those teal orbs peer up at me. “Slackin’ on your homework?”

               “Maybe,” he grumbles. I display the text and he continues scribbling down his answers.

               “Ooo, even I got the homework done. You’re not tellin’ me I’m about to slip ahead on our grades are you?” I tease.

               He doesn’t even bother to look up. “Not even close.”

               I laugh. Of course it’s not. This kid could miss an entire month of school and still manage to beat me in almost every class. Not that I’m dumb or anything, he’s just that smart—now if only I could get him to realize that I’ve been hardcore flirting with him for over a year now.

               Riku and I have been neighbors since we were little. We were never really friends and that was fine by me; we only occasionally passed by each other on our way to school or in the halls. It wasn’t until we turned fourteen and actually had a class together that I lost my mind. He probably just views me as a mild nuisance at this point, but I can’t help myself around him anymore. He doesn’t acknowledge any of it though.

               The end-of-day bell rings and I stand up with a stretch. “Wha’chu think, Riku? Shall we do the project together?”

               “Hm?” Like a needle pricking at my heart, he wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, I mean we can. But it just sounds like you’re trying to keep that gap between us from getting bigger.” Gods, if I could turn that smirk into something sincere, I’d probably die happy.

               “Please. You may have me in maths and science, but you suck at English.”

               “I’m one grade below you. Also, what does telling a story have do with any career?”

               I count on my fingers. “Journalism, news, authors, basic communication skills.”

               “We’re communicating aren’t we?”

               “Barely.” Oh honey, there’s so much more than what we say…

               His eyes roll but we agree to meet tonight at six to work on this story we’re supposed to write. I waste the day away mulling over this nonsense between us. Clearly this boy isn’t going to get the hint; I could probably kiss him and he would just blow it off as an accident. Yet I still can’t tell if it’s because he’s not interested or just strangely oblivious to flirting. Eventually, I admit defeat—I’m going to have to just flat out tell him. I decide it’d be best to do it tonight, when there’s time for us to talk it out; though that does put me at risk for making this project insanely awkward. I suck it up and plan my words out for the end of the night until six rolls around.

               I pull open the door to find my classmate there, staring out at the horizon. “Hey handsome.” There’s still time to drop plenty of hints before the night ends, but he doesn’t respond. “You okay?” There are some gloomy looking clouds in the distance.

               “Uh, yeah,” he replies, shaking it off. “Let’s get this dumb project done.”

               “And here I thought you just enjoyed my company,” I say, letting him in.

               We start to flesh out a basic a plot for this adventure short, all the while he keeps glancing out the window at the approaching storm. I, on the other hand, am starting to feel the nerves gnaw at my gut.

               “Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask, pulling his attention from the window for the umpteenth time since we started.

               Looking away from his distraction, Riku scribbles on his paper. “Yeah.”

               He’s not going to tell me what’s bothering him. Perhaps it’s time to tell him what’s bothering me instead.

               “Hey Riku?” He hums that that he’s listening before meeting my gaze. This could be it: the end of my endeavors, the end of my shenanigans, possibly the end of a friendship. Here goes nothing.

               Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth to start again, but the storm lets us know that it’s here.

               When the lightning flashes, Riku abruptly stands. “I gotta go.”

               “What?” I stand with him but he heads for the door.

               “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” All those worries he’s been holding back all night have finally broken through. He hurriedly shoves his feet into his shoes.

               “But-” The boy rips the door open and takes off down the street, not even in the direction of his home. I stand in the doorway, stunned, confused, and a little heart-broken. “…Be safe.”

               The storm that night was terrible.

~~~~~

A year later…

               This last year or so has been kind of dreary. Since that storm hit, three kids disappeared from our islands. Days were spent searching, but only the ocean could’ve kept them hidden from us for so long. Then we came across a miracle; some weeks after their disappearance, Kairi had been found on the beach of the smaller island. From what I heard, she had been groggy and confused for a while, but remembered nothing of what happened. As for Sora and Riku, we never found them.

               I was upset for a long time but time heals all wounds supposedly. In reality, I’d just learned to think about it less and went about life. There wasn’t anything else I could’ve done. Even if my heart is still hung up on him, it’s not like I can bring him back. So, on the surface, I take my dreary days the same as my normal ones: one step at a time, no matter how hard the next step is.

               Nope. Don’t think about it.

               Clearing my head of memories I don’t have time to dwell on, I brush the hair from my eyes and readjust the bag of groceries in my arms. It’s Friday, school’s out, I’ve just done my shopping for the week, and now it’s time to go home and relax.

               “Hey.”

               My body freezes before I turn to person I just passed. He’s a tall, young man, his muscular arms bare. The first instinct is to put some space between us, but that mop of white hair is unmistakable; sure it’s longer than it was but it’s his.

               “Riku?” I breathe, afraid to believe it is. Have I finally lost it?

               His aqua eyes are just visible beneath that mess. “It’s been a while,” he tells me.

               That voice; it’s the same and it still makes my heart flutter. The bag in my arm is hastily set aside before I barrel into the boy, arms around his waist as tightly as I can hold. I could melt when he returns the gesture but I’m too busy trying to keep from crying.

               I step back, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry. I just…Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

               He’s taking the fact pretty lightly. “I can imagine so.”

               “What happened?” I murmur.

               “Uh, I can’t exactly explain it,” he answers, dodging my question. Something about him seems softer than before. “The storm took me someplace far away and a lot of stuff happened. But I’m here now.”

               Taking in his words, I want to question him. There was a whole year where I thought he was at the bottom of the ocean; of course I want to know everything. However, above all of that, I’m relieved he’s back.

               I smile. “Well hey, welcome back handsome.”

               Riku’s responding chuckle dies out to something hesitant. “Are you busy tonight?”

               Reaching down, I scoop my groceries back up. “No. Just making dinner and being lazy tonight.”

               “Do you want to hang out?”

               It takes everything I have to not scream ‘Yes!’ at him. “Didn’t you just get back?”

               “Yeah,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But Kairi spent a few long hours nagging me about being so oblivious.”

               “What?”

               His shoulders bounce but I don’t miss that old spark of mischief. “That whole year before I left, you were flirting with me.”

               It’s suddenly a bit too hot for me and my brain threatens to malfunction. Instead, I take my turn to answer sheepishly, “I mean, yeah. But I think you settling in again is probably more important.”

               “It can wait. I’ve got a lot of stupidity to make up for.”

               I may never stop smiling again. “Only two years worth.”

               “Then I’d better get started.” I could just squeal. “I’ll pick you up tonight.”

               “I’ll see you then.”

               I bid the boy goodbye and it takes everything I have not to explode before I’m sure he’s well out of sight. And that’s it; my brain is shot for the rest of the day. I’m not doing homework, none of my chores get done, and dinner is nothing that I had planned. I just lie around, giddy as a teenager should be.

               I force myself not to bolt for the door when I hear a knock; I cannot, however, help the swelling happiness in my chest when I see him waiting for me.

               “Hey handsome,” I greet. That’s an adorable blush trying to spread across his face.

               “Hey. Are you ready?”

               I tilt my head. “We’re going out? Isn’t it kinda late?”

               “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the monsters.” There’s a bit of the old self-confidence I remember him having.

               “Oh my knight in shining armor.” I follow Riku to the docks and I should’ve known he’d be taking me to the smaller island; it was his favorite place to hang out. But I’ve never been there at night so this will be a new experience for me.

               After he’s tied up the little boat, he offers a hand to me. “Careful.”

               “You’ve become quite the gentleman,” I tease, taking his hand.

               My joking goes right out the window when he pulls me up with absolutely no effort. “I think not wanting my date to hurt themself is just common courtesy.”

               “Fair enough.” I pray he doesn’t catch the mild quaver in the two words. “So what exactly are we doing out here?”

               “Whatever you want; just hanging out,” he says, walking out onto the moonlit beach. With a grunt, he plops down into the soft, white sand. With a bit more grace, I sit beside him.

               The ocean before us is dazzling. The water is calm, gently lapping at the land and reflecting the light from above. An endless sky is filled with millions of twinkling stars painting shades of blue and purple around the shining moon. There are no birds or strangers to interrupt the white-noise of the water; just us. And we’re not exactly quiet. We talk and laugh and joke about all sorts of things. I get vague hints that Riku’s time away had been quite an ordeal but we skirt around those topics. Still, I feel like I’m finally connecting to him; I’m not hiding anything or hinting at hidden feelings. I’m able to fully express myself. And though he may not be as snarky as he had been, I’m still enamored all the same.

               “It’s funny.” Riku says, looking up to the stars. “I wanted nothing more than to get off this island, but when I found out about you, I couldn’t wait to get back.

               Thank goodness it’s dark. “That’s kind of a silly reason to suddenly change your dreams.”

               “Not after the adventure I’ve had.” I don’t get a chance to dwell on the darkness in his words. Instead, my heart jumps into my throat when his hand sits on top of mind with a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I think you’re discounting yourself way too much. You’re worth changing dreams for.”

               What the hell do I say to that?! I sigh. “I know I was flirting with you but that doesn’t mean you have to do this. You don’t owe me anything. If you want, we can just-”

               My words are effectively silenced. It’s not smooth or gentle but Riku jams our lips together. I never would use the word awkward to describe him but this is terribly so. I still don’t hate it.

               I don’t know if it’s my own blush or the heat rolling off him, but the air between us is hot. When he breaks away, there’s that smile—I can die happy now.

               “If you end that sentence with ‘be friends,’ I’m going to throw you in the ocean,” he warns, a note of longing there.

               The astonishment in me takes a dive, succeeded by desire. Pulling myself up by his jacket, I swing a leg over Riku’s. My hands weave into his hair, pushing the locks from his face, revealing those beautiful teal eyes. Without another moment’s hesitation, I take a second kiss.

               First kisses are overrated. They’re awkward and never certain of both people’s feelings. But second kisses; with the confidence, understanding, and trust; those are the moments of passion that melt hearts. I am no exception. My insides are filled with thousands of butterflies but I can’t get enough—I will never get enough. I could live in this moment forever: just the two of us in this beautiful scene with our new-found love. I would’ve been gone only a moment too soon had I died earlier.

               Lips part, gasping for air. My eyes rapidly scan his face, trying to commit this moment to memory. Then the wave of euphoria washes over me and I let out a breathy laugh.

               “Fine. We’re not friends.”

~~~~~

Months Later…

               I trail through the sand, water lapping at my feet, birds cawing overhead, sun raining warmth on this quiet, little, lonely island.

               It’s been several months and it sucks. I got warning this time that he was going, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about his absence. The way he talked about it was like I may never see him again and he wouldn’t even give me any details. It was just ‘I gotta go’ and ‘I don’t know if I’ll come back,’ then he kissed me and disappeared; left me crying on the beach by myself. Even Sora and eventually Kairi disappeared too, but no, I get left behind. I’ve been flipping between anger and depression so much sometimes I just cry while I break things. Maybe it was ridiculous for me to think we’d always be together, maybe it would’ve been easier if he just said he was sick of me, but the fact that we were still so infatuated when he left makes this all the more miserable. I had less than a year to fall head-over-heels in love with him and, boy, did he leave his mark.

               Today’s one of those low days, where I miss him so much it almost hurts. So I’m on the little island, hoping for distractions; I’d even take memories of our little moments here—anything to dull the pain.

               Another round of sorrow creeps up on me and I take a moment to attempt clearing my vision.

               “Hey gorgeous.”

               My heart shudders so forcefully everything goes black and my ears ring. It clears quickly enough that I whirl around. He’s there, gasping like he ran a marathon to get here. I can’t believe it; also, I can’t take it. I take a running leap at Riku who falls on his ass to catch me.

               Sobbing into his shoulder, I manage to get out, “You’re not allowed to leave me again. I swear to the gods that I will tie you down if I have to.”

               Hugging me with his entire body, Riku answers, “I have so much to tell you.”

[iwantthedean]

Have You Ever Thought ...

Summary: During a night out with Jared, you entertain an idea you’ve never thought of before.  Pairing: Jared x Reader Word Count: 1510 Warnings: Drinking. The usual cliche fluff you might expect from me :) Square Filled: Friends to Lovers for @spngenrebingo​ A/N: I didn’t realize until after I posted my last fic that I hadn’t tagged anyone -- that’s my bad! 

Saturdays were your day to get your life together. You cleaned up your apartment from the mess that had gotten a little out of control, finished the tasks you had started but not finished over the last five days, you did laundry, sometimes caught up with friends … it was just your day to wrap up loose ends. It had been this way since your last break up — you took a few days to cry it out, then decided you weren’t going to let your life fall apart.  Routine was what you needed and Saturday get-it-together tasks were part of that routine. 

Between the vacuum and the music you had blaring to get you through your household chores, you didn’t hear anyone knocking on the door. You didn’t hear anyone turning the lock or announcing their presence in your apartment. 

Which is probably why when you turned off the vacuum and went to the kitchen for a glass of water, you screamed at the top of your lungs. The tall man setting drinks on the counter couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Jared chuckled, “I knew you didn’t hear me knock probably because of the bathroom, but I figured you heard me over the vacuum.”

“Alexa, stop the music,” you commanded the device, a hand at your throat while you tried to catch your breath. “That better be an iced coffee from Dunkin, and they better both be for me after you scared the crap out of me.”

He was still smiling. “I had intended to drink one, but you’re right, maybe I do owe you the extra one.”

You pushed a straw into one of the drinks and rolled your eyes as you leaned back against the counter. The unexpected iced coffee cooled your nerves and you decided it wasn’t so bad that Jared had shown up after all. 

“So, what are you doing here, creeper?” Ashley asked, nudging his leg with her toe. 

He set his own drink on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Came to see if you were still doing get-it-together Saturday.”

“You know I am, Jar. I’m not looking for dates and I’m perfectly happy to spend my Saturdays being productive, sleeping in Sunday morning, and just relaxing before the week starts again.” You shrugged. You weren’t too worried about it; you were okay being single. 

“Fair enough. Want me to hang out? Need any handyman tasks done?”

“Mmm, well, I could do it if you don’t want to, but I have a couple light bulbs up high that need changed out, if you’re in a helping mood.”

Jared sipped on his iced coffee again, nodding. “Yeah, sure, no problem. Bulbs still in the same place?”

“Yep! The bathroom ceiling light and one bulb in the bedroom fan.”

He left his drink on the counter. You finished yours off before dumping the ice in the sink, tossing the cup away, and going back to your loose ends. 

After another hour, you were done with your list. Jared had changed out those bulbs, unloaded the dishwasher, and snaked your shower drain. 

“Now I owe you,” you sighed, falling back on the couch. “Wanna go out for drinks tonight?”

Jared shrugged. “Sure. We could grab a bite first, if you want.”

“There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer.”

“Perfect! I’ll get that going while you get cleaned up.”

You thanked him with a quick kiss on the cheek before gathering a couple of clean towels and heading for the shower. Music started from the Alexa again, and you sang along, uninhibited, while you washed up. 

Since it was just drinks with a friend, you put on a cute top and jeans, dropped some sandals next to the door to slip into before you left. Your hair had dried in nice, beachy waves — for once — and you put on the bare minimum of makeup. 

“Ah, that pizza smells so good!” you raved, picking up two pieces from the pan and dropping them on paper plate. You filled a glass with water and took a seat at the table with Jared. 

While the two of you ate, you discussed which bar you wanted to go to. You wanted to be able to talk, and Jared wanted to hear good music. There was a couple of places that fit those requirement, so the two of you picked the closer of the two. 

“So, how much longer are you going to avoid dating?” Jared asked during the drive. 

“Jared …”

He waved off your protest. “C’mon, Y/N/N. You’re beautiful, you’re driven, you’re smart, you’re funny — you check off everything on the list. You’re just going to isolate yourself for the rest of eternity? He isn’t worth that.”

“I am not isolating myself,” you scoffed. “I’m just not looking at the moment. If someone comes along, then sure, I’ll give it a shot. But like I said, I’m okay by myself. Maybe I’ll meet someone at the bar tonight, you never know.”

Jared sighed in frustration, but smiled. “Okay, sure. I guess I can buy that. For now.”

You chuckled and turned up the music. As you started singing along, Jared eventually chimed in. He was smiling big enough for his dimples to show, even while he sang, and you had to stop yourself from leaning over the console to kiss him.

Wait. What. 

That wasn’t a thought you’d had about Jared before. The two of you were friends — yeah, he was a handsome man. You weren’t stupid, you weren’t blind. You could see that Jared was a catch. The friendship had really never been like that, though. 

Until now. 

You ordered your mind to shut its mouth and thought about anything and everything else. Once at the bar, in an effort to clear your mind and reset your perspective, you walked far enough away from Jared to fit two more people between you. He gave you a hard time about it, but you only joked that he smelled bad. Lame, but it was the best you could do with these new thoughts rambling through your brain. 

There was an open table on the patio and the weather was gorgeous, so you and Jared snagged up a couple of the chairs before anyone else could claim the table. He got up to get your drinks from the bar; the eyes of the other women in the place following him back inside didn’t escape your notice. 

Had Jared ever thought about you like this? He had said some pretty nice things about you in the car. But, he was your friend. Didn’t he have to say those things, though, as your friend? Maybe. Maybe not. 

Three drinks in and ready to tell the other women in the place to stop checking Jared out, you still hadn’t figured out where you were going to land on the matter. Jared returned with a fourth round, and you blurted out your question. 

“Do you ever think about us?” 

Jared set the drinks carefully on the table. “Us? What do you mean?”

“Us,” you repeated, motioning between the two of you. “You think I’m beautiful and smart and driven and all of that … did you say that because I’m your beautiful, smart, driven friend, or because you see these things and it makes you think maybe you want more with me?”

Jared mouth gaped a little and he stared at you without blinking for what your intoxicated mind processed was too long of a time for your question to be something that wasn’t going to ruin your entire friendship. 

“Or did I just ruin everything?” you asked, quietly. 

“No, you didn’t ruin anything,” Jared assured immediately, “I … I don’t know. I do truly believe those things about you, Y/N, but I’ve never … until now.”

“Same. Well, tonight. In the car, you were singing and smiling and I had this completely sober thought that I wanted to lean over and kiss you and I’ve been trying to figure out since then what in the world is happening in my mind.”

Jared licked his lips and tucked his hair behind his ears. He cleared his throat scooted his chair close to yours. With a soft hand under your chin, Jared hesitantly pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were closed, but you almost couldn’t believe what was happening if you didn’t see it. When Jared pulled back, hand still under your chin, your eyes were wide open with shock. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I thought that maybe if we tried that kiss, it might give us some answers.”

“Did it give you answers?” 

Jared nodded. “You?”

Slowly, you nodded. One end of your mouth tugged up with the hint of a smile, and you pressed your forehead to his. 

“What if we change our minds when we’re sober?”

He leaned forward. “Then we’ll deal with it.”

Again, you nodded. Words were unmanageable, and you were too eager to have Jared’s lips on yours once more. 

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