#did Ice Thing ask Simon to walk him down the aisle

[redrobin-detective]

Simon Petrikov really is the dad of all time.

Continuing my Adventure Time binge and I got to the Gunter/Orgalorg bits. Ice King took this horrible, cruel alien menace who's been seeking ultimate power for millennia and loved him, cuddled him, disciplined him (sometimes undeservedly) and overall sucked him into his deluded family unit. He did this for so long that when Gunter finally was given a chance for ultimate power -via the wishing crown - he chose instead to become Ice Thing. To become like his dad.

Simon dadded so hard that he turned two eldritch beings with capacity for immense destruction into daddies girls.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

What I can’t have

Sanemi knew you were too good for him, the perfect human being while he was average, maybe even below average. He wasn’t sure where he landed but he knew it was far below you, but he couldn’t stop himself from admiring you, watching you, adoring you. The face you made when you came in for work every morning, greeting him with a bright smile. You were always 15 minutes early, giving you enough time to clean up the back room for your first appointments for the day. Your hair was always wet when you showed up, dripping down the back of your sweatshirt, but when you reappeared up front you had it braided and tied off with a different ribbon each day. His favorite was the lime green ribbon with the dog bone design on it, he thought it was cute, and it matched the collar he had on his bulldog. Was it weird how he admired a ribbon that matched his dog? Probably, but since it was you, Sanemi had no care. “Good morning Sanemi!” you chirped as you emerged from behind the salon door, your own private section in his small shop. You wore your favorite apron, the red plaid one tied tightly around your waist with your comb and scissors tucked safely into some of the pockets. “Morning” He mumbled the words over the display he was elbow deep in, trying to pull forward the tumbling bags of cat food. “Did you need help? My first client canceled, I guess Louis got into something he shouldn’t have and now they are going to the vet” he didn’t look up, knowing you were peering down at him, trying to watch him work. It was a habit, you just stared sometimes, not in a weird way, almost like you were in a constant daze. He found it cute, another thing to admire about you, plus, he could stare right back. “Not really, the truck doesn’t come in until noon so I'm just trying to straighten things up now to save me some time later. You made a ‘hmp’ noise and trailed off, most likely going towards the cat aisle. You often bought little trinkets for your own furry friend at home. Simon. You often talked about your gray cat, animatedly telling Sanemi about the ridiculous thing you caught your companion doing. His favorite story was the one that you have a picture of, where you caught him in the bathroom, hiding behind your shower curtain. You thought someone had broken in, recording before you investigated in case you were right, to your surprise and horror, there he was, all 5 pounds of your best friend. “Sanemi?” he looked up this time, meeting your own curious gaze. “Do you want coffee or anything, I’m going to stop by Mitsuri’s while I have the time” the beloved coffee shop two stores down, one he frequented with Obanai, sitting idly by as his friend flirted with the store owner and your own best friend. “Americano, with ice” you nodded, carefully untying your apron and folding it in your hands before you left. Sanemi watched you go, memorizing the small sway in your hips, the curve of your shoulders, and the braid that danced with each step you took. He was head over heels and you didn’t even notice. It was 20 minutes before you walked back into the pet shop, a caramel drink in one hand and an iced americano in the other. You always had something sweet, but to Sanemi, you were sweeter, even sweeter than the pure sugar you were currently drinking. “Obanai and Mitsuri have a date tomorrow! I’m so glad he finally asked her out. Did you help him?” “No, me and Obanai aren’t like that, I just told him to stop being a pussy” Sanemi didn’t look up from the order form, running through the numbers to make sure he was stocked up for the next week. You laughed, Sanemi didn’t hide the joy on his face at your reaction, watching as you giggled your way back to your room. The day proceeded like the rest, watching you float in and out of the back salon, greeting your clients, and carefully taking their furry companions from them, confirming their style before you disappeared for another hour or two. “Welcome,” Sanemi greeted the next customer from where he crouched near the stack of boxes behind his counter, checking the contents and confirming everything was there. “Hey Sanemi, long time no see” Sanemi’s head whipped around at the familiar baritone voice, violet eyes meeting fuchsia as he glared at the taller silver-haired male. “Tengen” Dressed in his famous streetwear, baggy cargo pants and leather straps, a white tight-fit tee that fit snugly over his large biceps, and a leather harness, holding a small pouch that probably held his wallet. He was a walking advertisement for his own store and it made Sanemi flinch in disgust. “Is Y/N back there?” “Yeah, she’s st-” The salon door flew open, your smile brightening the storefront, “Hi, love! I’m almost done, just let me finish vacuuming, and then we can go! Okay?” “Of course baby, take your time. Does Simon need anything?” You paused, your hand rubbing at your chin as you thought. “Nope” popping the ‘p’ you smiled, throwing a quick wave towards Sanemi before disappearing behind the frosted glass again. “Sanemi” Tengen called the man’s name, bringing his attention back to himself in front of him. “I plan on taking Y/N on a small vacation, just a quick 3 days down to the pier, where we met. Is it okay if she does that, the store won't fall without her, right?” A laugh tumbled through the man's lips, a smirk replacing it as he looked down on the store's owner. Tengen had known about Sanemi’s crush on you, your best friend's inability to keep secrets proving ever so useful as Tengen waited for you at the counter of her cafe. He held your relationship over Sanemi’s head, a fun game for him every time he came to the shop to come get you. But after this trip, there would be no reason to play these futile games, the ring that would sit so pretty on your hand, the same one that was currently weighing his pocket down, would be the biggest reminder to Sanemi that he would never get the one thing he craved the most. You.

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 22

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger! Go read Something’s Different About You Lately and all her other fics!

Life goes on.

Martin is shaken from his thoughts.

Martin’s footsteps did not ring out against the interior of the lighthouse. The sound did not bounce around and up the spire to return in earnest, filling the hollow space with noise as he walked. Around him the walls absorbed every sound, every scratch of his pen. Or maybe he’d just learned to quiet himself. It was difficult to tell at times.

Whether or not the place had changed didn’t matter. The echoes had become a taunt over the dragging weeks, his own voice hitting the walls and bouncing back to smack him in the face. If there was a ghost in those walls, it wasn’t trying to talk to him.

There had been no sign of Peter since he’d spoken of Martin’s good fortune. Peter had wanted to avoid correspondence, no doubt about that, and the letter had sent him on another boating excursion that very day. If Simon were to send another message, there would be no one to give it to. The satisfaction almost made his mouth twitch. 

The boat trip could’ve been a cover, but Martin liked to entertain the idea of Peter jumping into a row boat and furiously paddling away from the shore just to escape the skinny little man who dared want to speak with him.

He even understood the impulse. It wouldn’t be so bad to sit in a little boat in the middle of the ocean if it meant avoiding the horrible old men in his life. He didn’t have to do that yet, not when he had a perfectly empty spot right where he was. 

The weather had worsened considerably, three days of heavy sleet pushing him home without stopping. If he ducked inside a shop he wouldn’t want to go back out, and he couldn’t hide forever. Therefore, when on that fourth day it was closer to a sprinkle than a torrent, he finally took the time to get groceries.

He recognized some of the faces in the little corner shop, several regulars seizing the opportunity to stock up before worse weather settled in. They walked around diligently, considering their needs for the next week and not risking side conversations that could end long after the rain returned in full force. There was no chitchat or calming music, only the squeak of rubber wheels on the cold tile floor. 

Martin focused on the task in front of him. Frozen foods, mostly. At least there was someone out there pre-packaging things for people like him who came back from work tired and hungry. He'd never had much reason to be ambitious with cooking,  and never terribly good when he did try. No wonder dinners had been such a sad affair, but he was the only remaining judge.

As he selected bags of frozen veggies, it hit him that he’d taken far too much. He stared at the white plastic packaging, frowned, and threw it into his basket. Stocking up on long lasting foods would save him trouble in the long run, and changing the budget would’ve been a pain. 

He continued from aisle to aisle, grabbing what his hands were used to reaching for from the shelves and weaving between people who were too busy browsing to notice him. If someone was blocking him, he could loop back around and let everyone get on with their business.

As he eyed some flavorless oatmeal he heard the tiny bell over the entrance ring. He sighed to himself and wondered how crowded it would get if he stayed too long. The balance between moving quickly and not interrupting fellow shoppers was beginning to grate on his nerves, each go-around making him more and more aware of the ones taking their sweet time. 

He went around again, the same backs turned toward him in different configurations. If he kept circling around other shoppers would take their place while he was gone. If he waited nearby he would look impatient and agitated. If he made the loop again more people might be lined up at the queue when he was finally done and then he’d be stuck standing in line even longer, which could make it even more likely that he’d get stuck in sleet if it returned and he’d spend even more time waiting with everyone else, and if someone started chatting with the woman at the register which was very likely then who knew how long-

Heavy footsteps squeaked in his direction. The person who’d just entered was making a beeline for his aisle. Feeling a tiny jolt in his chest at the approach, he reflexively glanced over to see the older woman from the Fairchild house wearing a sensible coat and some sturdy waterproof boots.

She did live in town, then. Of course she lived in town. The Fairchild house was still part of town. Not that he knew for certain she lived there, but either way she would need to buy food. Someone in that big house had to, right? He’d never seen Simon walking about and couldn’t imagine him running errands. At this point he should’ve expected her to be around town, he thought, as his heart slammed against his ribcage.

He didn’t know her name. Presumably she was a Fairchild, what with the way that family worked, pulling like-minded people into it rather than building outward. Otherwise, she was just a person. Just another someone.

Someone he was openly staring at, and who had finally pinned him with a look of recognition from the other end of the aisle. He gritted his teeth, turned on his heel, and hopped to the aisle over. He had food to buy and no need for more… whatever it was she might do. Really, he’d grabbed enough to last him through the week, so why stay any longer in the stale air?

To his relief the queue was empty. Of course as he walked back to the front with his basket full of microwave meals he recognized the cashier. She was a former classmate’s mother, someone he would chat with on his little trips to the shop. As he placed his items on the counter he recalled that he usually asked after her daughter.

No one really liked small talk, and he was sure there would’ve been no change from whenever it was he’d spoken to this woman last. That was fine. Speech wasn’t going to come easy with the way his lips stuck together. He paid for the groceries, took his paper bag full of food and absconded into the night air. 

It was then that he forced his lips apart to breathe, clutching the bag against his chest and walking down the road. He felt the need to wipe his glasses, but his hands were full.

He had only made it a couple of blocks before he heard a voice from behind. “It’s rude to stare without saying anything.”

He stopped and turned to see the woman a few meters away with her arms crossed. Words failed him, so he said nothing and hoped his confused expression was enough.

“What’s your boss been up to? Slinking around I assume,” she asked.

Holding the groceries closer to his chest, Martin lowered his eyes to the ground.

The woman rubbed her forehead. “Of course. Should’ve expected as much from someone like you.” After a brief pause, she continued, “Look, I’m not sure what your deal is exactly, being so clearly new to all of this, but if you’re this messed up when nothing’s happened yet I suggest you leave.” 

She must’ve seen some twitch or twist in his face, as she said, “Fine, do what you like. He must pay really well to make you stay this long.” Then she shoved her hands into her coat pockets and walked back toward the shop.

He felt like he should’ve yelled something back, let her know exactly how much her unsolicited advice meant to him. Tell her to piss off, or to jump back into the sky or whatever it was her stupid group did. 

But of course he couldn’t say that, not then, not with how he was sure he’d sound. It would have come out cracked and raspy, as if he were a teen trying not to sound petulant. And he knew better than to try and argue with a person like her who knew that she knew more.

Instead, once he’d walked far enough that she couldn’t possibly see him, he considered what little she had said. Was this Simon’s idea, using her to push him in some direction that would agitate Peter? Or was she acting of her own will and giving him what she thought of as useful suggestions from one person working for an evil company to another?

If she really wanted to be helpful she could’ve said something informative instead of being vague and weird about it. Who knew what any of these people were thinking? It wasn’t his fault they all wanted to be cryptic. And no matter what she thought she knew about his situation, there was no leaving for him. He could feel it in his gut, in his throat, as easily as he could feel the ice beginning to pelt him from above. 

Leave, she said. What would leaving look like? Being chased down because he knew too much. An empty stretch of road leading him to rooms full of strangers. Leaving someone behind.

The worst was how she looked at him when she said it. He could list out to her all his reasons for staying, but somehow she would know he was full of shit.

--

Sasha: so there’s a wrench in things that’s taking longer than expected to fix, can’t get into the details but we’re working on it

Tim: should be back on track before you know it! 

Tim: so dont go making things exciting over there without us

Sasha: sorry to be cagey, it’s hard to explain

Martin’s mobile sat on the weathered wood of his front porch, his only light source besides the cracks around the front door. Giving the notifications a once over, he released a slow breath through his nose. It burned less than before, much less now that it had been a few days, and he’d come to an understanding that soon it would stop altogether. His own stubbornness exposed.

She couldn’t say she told him so. That was a sort of blessing.

When the light of his mobile winked out, everything was still but for the waves and the creaking of the old house. His old house. Its joints strained with the high winds and plummeting temperature, but it was built to last through such things. Each evening those noises greeted him when he walked through the front door and went with him to sleep, jolting him awake in the middle of the night with a loud snap as if the building had cracked its spine. The house persisted, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to complain about it the whole way.

Tim: in the meantime let us know youre still breathing

Tim: i know i ran out of material weeks ago but that doesnt mean you get out of pretending to think im funny

With a sigh, Martin picked up the mobile.

Martin: im fine

Martin: not much happening still

Tim: think the boredom will get you first?

He considered the message and then set the mobile back down next to him. The meeting with the Fairchild woman had been enough to drain him without him uttering a single syllable. Texting was easier but not by much, and he had nothing in him to keep up with Tim’s lighthearted attempts to engage.

The notebook tucked into his jacket had been the only good receptacle for words recently. His jacket protected the little record of his thoughts from the spray of water that slipped under the porch roof and misted over his glasses and hair and cheeks, blurring his vision and sucking the heat from his skin.

He found himself in a little bubble outside of time where clouds blocked out the sky and any hope of telling time with it. Fog hid the path up and away from his home, no entrance or escape from where he sat but for the wide expanse of salt water ahead. 

When was the last time he’d seen a boat on those waves? The trek down the cliffs would’ve made dragging one to the shore a pain, and there were no other homes left down on the rocky beach. Had they owned a boat when he was younger, some small thing never meant to fit more than one person but forced to fit two and a half? Did he remember something like that happening?

He sighed and pushed the false memory away with her inside of it, but the obstinate thing sailed right back into his mind. He inhaled and then let a sharp breath out through his nose. 

With some effort, he pushed out, “Stupid. She wouldn’t have needed to go out in a boat.” What a grating sound.

It wasn’t as if his house had a place for a boat. There wasn’t even an overhang to drag a dinghy under in a lazy effort to protect it from the elements. 

Had there been one once, though? He couldn’t see much from where he sat, the fog creeping in from the sides and obscuring his view to his right and left. That and his glasses made seeing his stiff hands a miracle.

His mobile lit up the space beside him.

Sasha: it won’t keep us much longer though. it complicates things, but waiting won’t do any good. 

Sasha: so sit tight and we’ll have a plan of action soon

Tim: seriously though even if nothing happens you should still tell us youre fine

Tim: a quick thumbs up or a ‘hey im good’ is fine dont need to start a whole conversation if theres nothing to report

Tim: but saying nothing implies a worst case scenario. i know everythings sort of come to a halt on your end but we dont know when something will happen

Tim: so text us after work

Tim: or at least respond same day

A new lecture, from Tim of all people. He’d forgotten to respond to the others for a couple of boring days in a long string of boring days and he was being told off. His day to day life wasn’t any of their business. He’d needed the time to himself, away from his phone and all that. And they knew he was mostly off on weekends.

At least Tim confirmed that all they needed was proof he wasn’t dead. He could keep that in mind in the future.

He wasn’t being fair to Tim, the one who at this point still attempted to talk with him when he didn’t need to. Of course Martin not responding would look bad- he was lucky they hadn’t broken down his door by day two. But at the end of all things the problem was him. The problem was his. 

Martin: i will

Tim: good

The rain began to pick up a little, splattering the screen and forcing him to pocket his mobile. It was as good an excuse as any to ignore more messages. He’d agreed to not leave them in suspense about his safety. It was all he could give them.

Pushing himself off the front steps, he stood just outside of the porch roof’s reach and inhaled. It did still sting, but that seemed to be the point of the exercise. It opened things up, cleaned him from the inside and washed it all away with an exhale. It was no wonder his mother had been so insistent with how much he found leaving him with every breath. 

He looked up into the sky with eyes squeezed shut for a few moments, then looked one more time at the black water ahead-

A thrashing in the water cut the silence in two, forcing a yelp out of his chest as he caught himself on the porch railing. Past the fog, just barely visible against the dark backdrop of sea and sky, was a figure hunched and formless and slowly shuffling out of the water.

Martin stepped backwards and half-fell back under the porch roof, wiping the rain from his glasses. The fog had grown so thick as to obscure the figure of any distinguishing features, and as he continued to back toward the front door he squinted hard to get a better look at the- the person? The thing? The-

It couldn’t be. No, it wouldn’t- she wouldn’t come back. It wasn’t possible. But if it had come from the sea (where else could it have emerged from so suddenly?), then there wasn’t another explanation.

His throat went taught with panic. He grasped at it, using his other hand to fumble behind him for the doorknob and hold it tight. He wanted to run. Run away, run up the hill, run straight at her and scream until his voice left him entirely. Anything but stand there rigid against the reality creeping toward him. Damn it, when had this fog rolled in so thick? What time was it?

The figure stopped, its crunching footsteps giving way to the sound of waves and pattering droplets. Martin held his breath and waited for something to give, whether it be his mother’s patience or his own two legs.

Then the footsteps resumed, more certain and definitely faster than he’d recalled his mother ever being. Right, she had always needed to be careful of her knees. The sea couldn’t just fix a history of osteoporosis.

This wasn’t a comfort. As the figure grew near and gained definition to its stick legs and shifting, asymmetric middle, Martin could only stand there frozen in terror with his hands gripped tight around the doorknob and his own neck.

An uncertain voice shouted over the drizzle. “Martin? Is that you? This fog is-”

Wait.

No. No that didn’t make any goddamned sense. He didn’t hear that.

And yet, out of the grey shroud, hair sticking to the sides of his face, walked a stiff and mildly embarrassed Jonathan Sims. He stopped just short of the porch steps, and then Martin couldn’t register anything else, his vision narrowing to the thing clutched to Jon's chest.

“Ah. Hi.” Jon adjusted the awkwardly folded seal skin in his arms and cleared his throat. “May I come inside?”

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Costume Party

A/N: This is the third of the prompts that @badsext gave me, and I am very thrilled to get them out there, and see what people think. It’s going to be a Nathan x reader one, and it’ll be very spooky, I’m very happy to be writing this. I’ll also be posting two fics a week, starting with Feather Boas, so be prepared. Hope yous all enjoy!

Warnings: suggestive behavior, (nothing steamy, just nathan being himself, i have a friendship to maintain lol), mention of alcohol, cursing, insecurities

“Nathan, what the hell am I supposed to wear to Alisha’s costume party?” you yell from across your apartment, shared as of September. 

“You know, you could just wear nothin’, that’d be a show, wouldn’t it?” he said, walking behind you.

“I’d like to actually have fun at the party, not be cold, thank you very much.” you said, kissing his cheek, and turning back around to your closet, trying to wrack your brain with anything. You were seriously thinking of just wearing a sheet and being a ghost, but Nathan offered to take you to Spirit Halloween. You obliged, and he drove you two over to the store, slightly baffled by the front decorations.

“Alrighty, here I go. Watch me come out 3 hours later with just candy.” you thought to yourself, putting your hands in your pockets and walking through the automatic doors, Nathan in tow.

  Everything in the store was typical Halloween style. Fake spiders, fake cobwebs, skeletons, ghosts, the whole shabang. However you’d gotten your Halloween decor sorted way earlier in the month. You made sure that everything was in place, and that the candles were all facing in the correct direction (something you were particularly persnickety about). The two of you floated towards the back of the store, occasionally picking up something here and there. You had to drag Nathan away from the candy aisle, as he was just a hair away from starting to steal the full size Three Musketeers they stacked on top of each other. You were presented with a sexy ghost, a sexy nurse, and honestly just stereotypical female wear, and you were fed up. After looking at a whip that adorned one of the costumes, you walked straight to the other side of the store, where Nathan was looking at over-muscled costumes.

“It makes me feel like I’m too little to get into this shit. I know I’m a little muscly, but not like this. It makes me feel insecure.” Nathan said, folding his arms and looking towards you, eyes getting a bit teary. You’d never experienced him like this before. He was trying to be the funny, quirky person people expected him to be all the time.

“It’s alright to feel like that. Society puts pressure on all of us to fit into this box. You do have quite a lot of slack on said pressure, but you still do suffer. I like that you’re tiny. You’re also tall, it adds character to you, and I love it. I love you Nathan, that’s never going to change. No matter what you look like. Even if you cut your curls.” you say, hugging him, and kissing his shoulder. He smiled at the gesture, and offered something to you.

“You know what. How about you pick a costume from over here, and I pick a costume from over there in the lady’s section. We’ll look badass.” Nathan says, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

  You giggle, and send him off to the other side of the store, where you vision him doing little voices and holding up different colored dresses to his form. You have bigger fish to fry though. The giant muscled superhero uniforms and stiff wigs were giving you nothing but anxiety. Your hands flipped through costume after costume, trying to find an appropriate one for your stature and size, finding it a bit hard as you were between a rock and a hard place trying to find what suited you best. Nothing as to where the inseam was too much, or if the shoulder pads were too intense. You were even thinking of trying to fit into some of the kids’ costumes just for the fun of it. Soon enough, though, you found out that Spirit Halloween was not going to cut it, and you knew just the place to hit up.

“Alright love, what’ve you found in this hellscape of a clothing section?” Nathan asked you, walking over while holding a bag with a costume, and from what you could see, a lot of shiny candy wrappers.

“I won’t be buying from here, but I know what I’m gonna do for the costume. Don’t worry, I’m still sticking with the “opposite gender thing” even though there’s waaayyy more than two genders.” you state, walking out of the store with a pep in your step, excited to finally do something you’d like to do, rather than what’s expected. 

  Nathan followed after you like a lost puppy, thrilled at what you were planning, but also because he had to go for a wee, and his bladder wasn’t treating him too well. As soon as the two of you got home, Nathan of course threw his bag on the bed, and bolted to the restroom, and you once more opened your closet, with a plan this time, throwing different artifacts onto the bed, and turning on some rock tunes. You two had 7 hours tops until the party started, and that gave you just enough time to get everything together. Nathan, poor soul, wasn’t allowed to see it, you even were having Simon pick him up from your house so that you could surprise him.

“Alright babe, I’m heading off with Simon, you sure you don’t want me to see you before I go?” he yelled through the door, and you yelled back a no, and finished up the final stitches.

“Now this is what I call a job well done.” you say, looking back at your work, and you quickly shower and do your hair, putting your outfit on, and almost forgetting your keys in your excited nature.

  When you got to the Community Center, who allowed Alisha to rent for the Halloween night, was already filled to the brim with people. Cars were parked all over the place, and toilet paper was hanging from the trees in the area. You looked in the car mirror once more, right before you stepped out onto the concrete walkway, and opened the door wide for yourself, as you were one of the last people to arrive. The music was blaringly loud, and you went directly to Nathan, and you were quite surprised at his costume choice for the night as well. He decorated himself in an almost skin tight shirt, his chest very visible to your eyes. He wore a cute pleated skirt, floor-length, and of course, as it was Nathan, he put on random cat ears, and he was waiting with Simon, presumably for you. As soon as you came into view, he almost dropped his drink, most likely alcohol. He stood up, and you gave a little spin, the lapels of the suit flashing in the colored lights.

“My god, I didn’t know that my girlfriend had this much sexy potential in her. Where did you find this getup, love?” Nathan asked you, taking your hand in his arm around your waist. Even though he towered over you, you enjoyed having that slight switch of power in the relationship.

“My closet has a lot of wonders, it’s hidden so many skeletons, it had to be interesting.” you joked, sitting down, not caring to cross your legs.

  Your outfit screamed “Yes, I wear the pants, but never a bra”. A beautiful plum suit, cinched at the waist, and the pants were boyfriend fit, beautifully framing your shape. You wore a white satin camisole, skinny black tie crossed on your neck, the ends dangling over your chest. In classic fashion, you wore your black Chuck Taylors, for foot support. Nathan fawned over you, just baffled at the fact that you threw all of this together in such short notice. He took you over to the punch bowl, and was staring at you in absolute love and wonder. You laughed at him under your cup, and he was left confused, and asked why you were chuckling.

“You are whipped for me, and I can prove that, as you just can’t take your eyes off of me Nathan. It’s hilarious, as it’s rough to think someone could love me sometimes.” you reply, taking a sip of the liquid in the Solo cup.

  You laughed at his shocked face, and a blush coated his pale cheeks. He stayed a bit quiet for the rest of the night, except when you offered to go out for ice cream, even go for a little late night trick or treating. He perked up, and the two of you grabbed your respective pillowcases, and went out until at least 3 in the morning, until the two of you collapsed on the floor of your bedroom, Twizzlers in hand.

Masterlist

[jordancat]

'Shadowhunters' Series Finale: Bosses Explain Clary's Cliffhanger and Malec's Near Perfect Wedding (Exclusive)

By Leanne Aguilera‍ 7:30 PM PDT, May 6, 2019

ETOnline

https://www.etonline.com/shadowhunters-series-finale-bosses-explain-clarys-cliffhanger-and-malecs-near-perfect-wedding

Go to the article and give it a hit, but in case the article is moved or has been taken down if you are finding this post in a year or so after Shadowhunters has been saved, here is the content. 

WARNING: If you have not watched the series finale of Shadowhunters, then grab your stele and escape through the nearest portal. For everyone else, grab that extra box of tissues and listen up...

After three action-packed seasons filled with gut-wrenching twists and heart-pounding turns, Shadowhunters has come to an end.

The series finale of the Freeform drama has just bowed on our screens, but if you're anything like us, then a lot of questions must be racing through your minds as you try to catch your breath through a river of tears.

In one last quest for answers – and perhaps a bit of closure – ET called up Shadowhunters executive producers, Todd Slavkin and Darren Swimmer, and asked the co-showrunners to explain our most burning questions after that two and a half hour finale.

Read on for exclusive explanations about Clary's shocking cliffhanger, the few things missing from Malec's near "perfect" wedding, and one last answer to the question that every fan has been asking: Is this really the end of Shadowhunters?

ETonline: How important was it for you deliver a Shadowhunters series finale that you knew fans would be proud of?

Todd Slavkin: It was hugely important. We poured our hearts into this finale and we wanted every moment to count – especially Malec’s wedding. That was a big moment for a fandom that had been waiting a long time to see it and it had to be really, really special.

Let’s talk about Malec’s wedding – it was gorgeous. What little details did you make sure were included in the Malec wedding, so it could be perfect for the fans?

TS: The flower girl was really important in that it had to be Madzie. Maryse walking Magnus down the aisle was a really powerful statement after all they’ve been through and knowing what the wedding was like in season one. It felt important that it was full circle and that hug between them still breaks my heart when she sends him up on the stage. The vows needed to be perfect – every single word needed to count. There was a little fun behind-the-scenes moment where it felt right that Alec would be very nervous – more nervous than Magnus. After all, this is The Institute, this is The Clave and there’s a great moment where he’s nervous and Harry just gives him a little nod like, “Its okay. You’re going to get through it.” And it felt so right and so honest and like a lot of weddings that I’ve been to. Just capturing those human moments – the whole show has really been about that. Even in this heightened reality, these human emotions and moments really mean a lot to all of us.

Darren Swimmer: We wanted to populate the wedding with as many of the characters in the overall series as we could. So anybody who wasn't at the wedding, you can be pretty sure was not available due to scheduling, or they were deceased on the show, or a villain.

Speaking of deceased villains – Let’s talk about Jonathan. How did you guys decide that Clary would create one last rune in order to take down her brother?

TS: Well, it felt so right that the ultimate sacrifice that Clary had to do would be killing her brother and saving the world at the same time. We knew that he couldn't die by anyone else’s hand. And we knew that it would be incredibly heartbreaking that his sister – this human that he’s loved so much and he’s wanted her love for so long – is the one who finally wanted to take his life. The idea of creating this new rune and using this winged embrace to kill him just felt like such a perfect moment. Rhyming the wings that we had seen before and with white conquering darkness and all of that.

Even though Clary used this new rune to save the world and take down Jonathan, Ithuriel (sic - it was asctually Raziel - jordancat) still stripped her of her Shadowhunter status. We had a one-year time-jump and a cliffhanger ending with mundane Clary recognizing Jace and seeing his runes. Can you explain the meaning of that last scene?

TS: The expression of the love between Jace and Clary is such an integral part of the series and we knew we had to pay it off in a huge way. The idea that the love that they have is even more powerful than the wrath of the angel Ithuriel (sic Raziel - jordancat) is just such a great statement. Love conquers all. Love conquers darkness.

DS: I would also add that we see the inevitability of Clary as a Shadowhunter. At the end of the day, her fate is that she’ll be a Shadowhunter. We don’t completely answer that question or present that, but I think that’s what the takeaway is. She’ll be a Shadowhunter.

Take me past that cliffhanger of an ending. What do you envision what happens next? Does Clary need to re-learn her training? Does she need to re-form those bonds with all these people? Does she need to re-fall in love with Jace?

DS: I don’t want to give too much away because we want to make it something that the fans can think about in their imagination. But in the fourth season that we were hoping might somehow materialize itself when we wrote this, we would see Clary and Jace working together to sort of re-train her and get her to back to Shadowhunters status 100 percent.

TS: We’d have this new Clary with the cool hair, and the awesome outfit, and she’s kind of like a strong young woman who’s found herself as an artist, but knows there’s something missing in her life. Even just like in the pilot, there was this feeling that would just start all over, but they would be more adult now.

In this potential future for “new” Clary, is there a possibility that she would get her memories back?

TS: Yes. In the Shadow World anything can happen.

It was so amazing to see Clary ask Izzy to be her Parabatai. It made it even more gut-wrenching to realize that this wasn’t going to happen once Clary lost her memory. Can you talk about dangling that conversation over the fans and then your decision to have that not come to fruition?

DS: The two of them becoming Parabatai was something that we always imagined we would work towards, but it was something that we also thought needed to be extended and pushed as late as we possibly could. So when we knew that we only had two episodes left, we wanted to take advantage of that and present it here.

TS: But the great thing is when Clary recognized Jace at the end, you’re like, “Wow! Okay I could see that happening again for sure.” That [bond] is not going to go away.

Izzy and Simon’s slow-burn of relationship was sped up quite a bit in that series finale. What was your goal when it came to showing the love story of these two characters?

DS: We have to thank the Sizzy fans for being so patient while we laid the groundwork over this season for their relationship. We always felt that the longer we pushed it off, the more powerful it would be once they got together – and then suddenly we ran out of runway. I still think there was enough of the lead in, and the start of their relationship happens basically when we wanted it to happen. We just didn’t get to see as much as we wanted.

TS: The original end of season three was their kiss and then fire consumes Izzy. That was going to be the end of season three and then we would've spent the entire season four having to heal lizzy and there would still be more of a slow burn. So in a weird way, Sizzy fans got it early. They lucked out because we had to jump the gun.

DS: Yeah, how many times can you have the two of them start to kiss and then have an alarm go off? [Laughs]

What is a loose end that you guys wish you could’ve tied up differently?

TS: That’s a really good question. I feel like the loose ends were tied up really nicely. There’s a little bit of stuff that we would’ve wanted to see and we would’ve wanted to explore more.

DS: We tied things together, but we would've wanted to tie them together in a little bit longer way. The wedding wouldn’t have been planned in one day.

TS: But you know after thinking about it, I would've loved at the wedding if we would've seen a conversation between Jace and Magnus being like, “Thank you. I couldn't have asked for any one better to take care of my Parabatai.” And I would’ve loved to have seen Robert Lightwood say to Maryse, “I’m so happy for you that you’ve found love again.” And I wish Luke Garroway was at that wedding and I wish Maia was at that wedding. There are those little things. That wedding could’ve been an entire episode. It could have been a full 42 minutes and I think the fans would've loved it just as much and we could have had all of these moments that would have just gone on and on and on. We just were limited.

Was Clary losing her memory always part of the plan or was that conceptualized once you knew that the show was ending?

TS: It was conceptualized once we knew the show was ending.

Had the show not ended – and Clary never lost her memories – what would’ve been Clary’s fate as we moved into season four?

TS: Great question! I think she would have really been healing over the guilt she felt over Dark Clary and the terrible things she did and would’ve been cleaning up that mess. And Jace would have been helping her, like, get back to normal. I think Jace and Clary could’ve had this normalized relationship – at least for Shadowhunters. A peak in the normalcy and I think the fandom would have craved that a little. Those moments that we’ve had when they’ve gone out on their dates – like the ice skating moment and the moment in early in season three when they went to dinner with Simon. These are these great human moments that stand out and again I think we would've leaned into that more.

Would we have seen a Clace wedding?

DS: Absolutely.

The series finale of Shadowhunters is here, but the fans have not stopped fighting to save the show. Is this the official end of Shadowhunters?

TS: I think it’s the end of Shadowhunters in this permutation. Those books live on and the rights live on. Darren and I don’t have the rights and we don't control the rights. I think we’re all kind of going onto other things, but having said that – you never say never. What I wouldn't rule out and what I don't think is impossible is doing, like, a future movie. Where you could get everyone together for a few weeks and do like a two-hour, or a four-hour, or a limited six-episode thing. Maybe with the same cast, but you never know. Weird thing happen in today’s TV world.

DS: The only reason that it seems like it would be a long shot to [continue this show] in this permutation is that everything has been disassembled. The sets have been sold, and all the props, and that stuff [is gone.] It’s not like we could ever come back and just continue it where it is. It would be starting from scratch.

TS: Yeah they auctioned off props, like, in August or September. It was crazy and horrible.

The fans have been asking, “What more could we have done to save Shadowhunters?” What do you want to say to them?

DS: The fans did everything right.

TS: It’s an incredibly passionate, creative, strong fandom that should be so proud of themselves because this won't be forgotten and it’s bigger than a TV show. What this fandom is preaching is inclusion, and love for all, and all these positive things in life and I think that’s a rarity. I think that will go down in history.

DS: And I was just going to add that without this incredible fan base, we might not have had a two-parter [finale] at all. The show might have just been canceled. But knowing that there was such a devoted fanbase, the powers-that-be decided to do this two-hour finale.

[carmenlire]

Brother Dearest

 read on ao3

Alec swings by a local bakery on his way to the Institute. There’s a bit of a line since it’s so early in the morning and he passes the time waiting by reading a few pages of his ebook on his phone.

When it’s his turn, he orders a large latte for himself and gets two double chocolate fudge cupcakes. He pays without fuss and just a few minutes later he’s back in the late October air, chilly yet inviting.

It’s Alec’s favorite time of the year and he doesn’t mind his commute quite so much when he can wear sweaters and combat boots without dying of heatstroke. It’s only another fifteen minutes to the Institute and Alec walks into the building without ceremony, heading directly to his office.

Just shy of eight in the morning and it’s time to start his day. He sets his goods on his desk before shrugging out of his jacket, hanging it up on the iron coat rack in the corner. He runs an absent hand through his hair before heading back over to his desk, grabbing his coffee and taking an absent sip as he starts up his computer and enters his password.

He gets to work and it’s only half an hour later that his first visitor of the day knocks on his door before swinging it open.

“Hey, hermano,” Iz says as she walks in. Her smile is more of a pained grimace and Alec notices that she’s wearing one of her more comfortable outfits-- a looser tunic style dress with low heeled boots.

“Hey, little sister. How are you this morning?”

Isabelle doesn’t deign to answer. Instead, she walks until she’s standing in front of his desk. Noticing the paper bag from her favorite bakery, she shoots him a look before reaching for it. When she opens it, peeking inside, her face lights up and Alec swears that he sees tears for a brief second.

She takes out the cupcake and just stares at it for a second before looking up at Alec. “You got me a cupcake?”

Alec grins, nodding. “It looks like I did. Wanna take a break and eat breakfast?”

She nods distractedly, heading over to the couch in the corner of Alec’s office. Alec takes his own cupcake out and joins her, bringing his coffee.

The two of them sit there for awhile, silent. Izzy inhales her cupcake with veteran practice and Alec doesn’t even say anything when she slyly reaches for his untouched one, instead focusing completely on his coffee.

After polishing off the second cupcake, Izzy relaxes against the back of the couch, extending her legs out and slumping a little. While she’s ruminating on whatever the fuck, Alec’s texting Magnus.

Hey, babe, are you busy tonight?

He gets a reply seconds later.

Morning, Alexander. I have a meeting that will probably run late, so you’ll have the evening to yourself.

Alec just responds with have fun. Iz and I are have a movie marathon at our place.

That done, Alec looks up when Isabelle moves closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her and they relax for a few minutes in the stillness of the room. Alec has a million and one things to do but between work and Izzy, it’s no contest.

“Want to come over tonight for a movie marathon? Pizza and ice cream provided.”

Isabelle hums, hugging herself, making herself smaller. From where her head is angled downwards, he catches her frown a little.

“We can watch whatever I want?”

“Isn’t that the way it always works,” Alec dryly asks.

She doesn’t say anything, just smiles, and Alec squeezes her to his side before letting go. Izzy stands up and so does Alec, arms already opening for a hug. Isabelle moves right in wrapping her arms around Alec’s waist and Alec engulfs her for one of his patented Big Brother Hugs. They sway side to side for a moment before Iz is breaking away and leaving Alec to the day’s responsibilities.

She’s off duty today, though she’s on night patrol tomorrow. Alec lets her go, calling out a reminder to wait for him this evening and they’ll head over together.

Alec’s work day goes on as usual. Thankfully, there are no fires to put out and he spends the next nine hours going through mission reports, catching up on correspondence, and writing budgets and strategic planning for next quarter.

Five o’clock comes around finally and he’s just booting down his computer when Izzy comes into his office. She’s dressed down in one of Alec’s giant hoodies and a pair of leggings, wearing plain brown Uggs for the trek over to the loft.

Alec stands up and grabs his wallet and keys, throwing on his jacket as she waits in the doorway.

He pops the collar, smoothing it back into place, as he asks, “Have you decided what we’re watching tonight?”

Isabelle shrugs as Alec walks over to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders as they leave his office and the Institute at large.

“I don’t know. I’m in the mood for funny but I think sappy might also appeal. But then you know I always like a good mystery.” She looks aggrieved as she continues, “And don’t even get me started on movie or tv show. I have no idea. All I know is that I want a heap of junk food and a couch.”

Alec laughs. “Alright, what if we stop by the pizza place and pick up dinner, get some ice cream at that corner store, and I’ll surprise you?”

Isabelle just looks at him. “I thought I was supposed to pick what we watch.”

Rolling his eyes, Alec says, “I promise you’ll like what I pick. Have I ever steered you wrong during our monthly marathons?”

Izzy gives him a skeptical glare but finally acquiesces. “Okay, I’ll let you pick something this time but if I hate it then next month I’m picking the goriest horror movie just on principle.”

“You know I can’t handle scary movies” Alec splutters.

“Exactly,” Isabelle says, smug. “That should guarantee that you pick something good. Though, I’ll never understand how you can’t handle a little horror movie when you’re a damn shadowhunter.”

Sending her a withering look, Alec mutters, “I can handle demons and shit but serial killers always look so normal. And don’t get me started on that creepy ass music or those demented dolls,” he shudders.

Iz laughs, though Alec catches the way it turns into a faint groan and she straightens a little. They walk into a local a pizza joint that Magnus had introduced him to when they’d first started dating. Alec had ordered online and everything is waiting for them when they enter. He pays while Izzy leans over the pizza box, inhaling like it’s world class coke and he just shakes his head. He carries the pizza and sides while Iz is helpful enough to hold open the door.

Just another block and they hit the corner mart. They walk in and Isabelle makes a beeline for the freezers at the back. Alec makes a bet with himself and sure enough, when his sister turns around a few minutes later, she’s holding her favorite pint of Ben & Jerry’s along with his. He turns around and heads to the checkout only to turn around when he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him.

He sees Izzy in the junk food aisle and walks over to her, adjusting the takeout in his arms.

“See anything you like?”

“Too much,” she says glumly.

He laughs. “Get what you want. You always do anyway and you know I’m paying”

Izzy looks at a few options before reaching for a bag of chips and bag of cookies, juggling everything in her arms.

Shaking his head, Alec returns to the checkout. He has a bit of a time getting out his wallet but Isabelle is kind enough to take it, reaching in and pulling out enough cash to cover everything.

She takes her plastic bag and they finally make it to the loft. Alec doesn’t need a key-- the wards are tuned to him and let him in automatically-- and they walk straight to the kitchen, dumping everything down on the counter.

“I’m gonna go change,” Alec says. “Make yourself at home.”

“I always do,” Isabelle says, returning to the entryway and taking her boots off, revealing fuzzy socks in a rainbow of colors.

Alec heads to the bedroom. He changes into more comfortable clothes before going to the bathroom and grabbing Magnus’s container of makeup wipes.

He walks back into the living room and sees his sister sitting cross legged in the middle of the couch, elbow deep in the bag of chips they’d bought.

“Hungry?”

Izzy looks up sheepishly. “Starving. Are we ready to eat?”

Alec nods before tossing the makeup wipes her way. She catches them on reflex and exclaims softly. “I knew I was forgetting something,” she says, getting up and going to the guest bath.

While she’s doing that, Alec walks over to the tv and reaches for one of the DVDs on top of the stand. He pops it into the player, taking the remote and turning the television on.

That done, he heads to the kitchen, grabbing plates, napkins, and drinks. He has a glass of unsweetened iced tea. He knows better for his sister, though, and grabs a bottle of ice cold water from the fridge. He takes those to the living room and returns just as Izzy’s leaving the bathroom, face shining and makeup free.

“Thanks, hermano. You know I hate watching tv with makeup on.”

Alec hums and flips the pizza box open. He grabs a few slices as Iz does the same, getting some cheesy bread, too.

The go back to the living room and plop down on the couch on either end. Alec sets his food down and grabs the remote, waiting for Iz to notice what movie they’re watching.

“Love, Simon,” she exclaims.

Grinning, Alec’s thumb hovers over the play button. “Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p.’ “I know that you’ve been wanting to watch it and Magnus bought it on DVD last week. This is a pretty perfect choice, if I say so myself.”

Isabelle sends him a considering look before saying, “Okay. I’ll admit I have been wanting to see it and this might be a perfect time. Let’s do this.”

Alec starts the movie and they dive into their food as the voice-over begins. Alec’s seen this movie a dozen times-- is getting weirdly close to being able to recite most of the dialogue-- and he relaxes against the couch, feet tucked under him.

After a little while, plates clean, Alec pauses the movie for a minute as Izzy darts to the kitchen, grabbing their ice cream and the cookies. They start back again as the Halloween party scene unfolds and even though he’s seen it so many times, Alec still laughs at the awful karaoke. Izzy is into the movie and he catches her raise her eyebrows at Leah and Abby’s interactions during the scene.

Izzy eats most of her ice cream before settling against the couch. Alec doesn’t say anything, just moves until his feet are resting on the coffee table in front of them. After a minute, Isabelle wiggles down and lays her head in Alec’s lap, pulling her knees up. Alec reaches behind her and pulls down the throw, shaking it out and placing it over her. It’s huge and fluffy and Izzy burrows into it, trying to make herself even smaller.

He runs his hand through her hair and they watch the rest of the movie. Izzy’s reactions are suitable and he agrees as she mutters insults against the screen when Martin is an ass.

When the end credits start to roll, Isabelle closes her eyes before shuffling to her back. She throws her legs over the back of the couch, rearranging the blanket for maximum coverage.

Alec lays an arm on the back of the couch, tapping the ankle closest to his hand in a slow pattern.

Groaning, Isabelle says, “I hate the end of the month.”

Alec’s lips quirk up. “I know.”

“Having a period is the worst thing ever. It’s like a medieval torture device except it’s 2018 and I’m a good person.”

Alec laughs. “I’ve heard that before.”

Izzy tilts her head up until she’s looking at Alec upside down. Alec quirks a brow as he looks down at her.

“How did you know to movie night tonight?”

Alce just raises his eyebrows and sends her an unimpressed look. “You bit my head off yesterday morning when I asked you to run new budget numbers. And then you almost started crying when you saw a chipmunk outside my office window.”

She frowns. “You know that I don’t like budgets and chipmunks are cute.”

Alec flicks her ankle as he rolls his eyes. “We’ve been doing this almost ten years, Iz. I think I’d have a clue by now when to break out the junk food and couch potato routine. If I didn’t, your reaction to the cupcake this morning would’ve clued me in.”

Isabelle reaches up and pats his head. It’s clumsy, since the angle is awkward, but Alec just smiles.

“Thanks, hermano. What do you say we break out Hulu and watch some Brooklyn Nine Nine reruns?”

“Sounds great, Iz.”

Alec switches over apps and selects one of the Halloween episodes. They watch a couple of hours of that, laughing their asses off-- Iz even snorts at one point though she threatens Alec with bodily harm if he tells anyone.

Isabelle falls asleep curled up on the couch and Alec dozes, waiting for Magnus to come home.

He has no idea what time it is when he feels a pair of lips on his forehead and a gentle hand running through his hair.

“Babe,” he asks, face scrunching.

“It’s me, Alexander,” Magnus whispers.

“Time is it?”

“Just after eleven. I’m sorry I woke you, darling.”

Alec yawns, muttering, “It’s s’okay. I like knowing when you get in.”

His eyes are still closed, Magnus scratching softly at his scalp. It’s a minute or two before Alec finally wakes up enough to open his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, careful not to wake up his sister.

“Hey, yourself. I should’ve guessed what it meant when you said you’d be having a movie night on a Tuesday.”

Nodding, Alec says, “Yeah. There’s still some pizza left, I think, if you’re hungry.”

Magnus hums. “I may just take you up on that. My meeting in L.A ran late and I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

“I’m trying to sleep here,” Izzy mutters, forehead wrinkling as she frowns.

Alec looks down. “Sorry, sleeping beauty. We didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Isabelle just groans. Magnus’s mouth quirks up as he looks at her. “Would you like me to take care of that, dear?”

“I feel like death,” she says, dramatically.

Magnus huffs out a laugh. “Yes, I’ve heard that a time or two. Want me to make things better? I can’t do long term but it should last you until the morning at least.”

She flops to her back, staring at Magnus incredulously. “I never sleep through the night when I’m on my period. Everything hurts too much.”

Magnus waves a hand, blue waves of magic simmering gently. “Interested?”

“Hell, yes, I’m interested.” Izzy flops over onto her back again as Magnus takes a few steps until he’s standing right in front of her. He waves a hand over her stomach, pulsating blue tendrils reaching out. Izzy sighs, tension leaving her and looks up, hopeful. “My back hurts, too,” she pouts.

Magnus doesn’t say anything, just works a moment longer before pulling back.

Izzy bites her lip as she takes stock and it strikes Alec that she looks almost unbearably young right now. She looks like his little sister.

She sits up gently before standing and hugging Magnus. “I feel so much better,” she says, relieved.

“I’m glad to hear it, dear. Like I said, it’ll probably wear off by morning but I can make a potion or two that should ease the symptoms until it’s over.”

Izzy pulls back, looking eager. “Could we make a monthly contract? If anything works half as well as your actual magic then I’m sold.”

Magnus laughs. “I’m sure we can work something out, Isabelle, dear.”

Alec stands, stretching his back before shuffling closer to Magnus and wrapping his arms around him from behind.

He nods down the hallway. “You can take the guest room and stay here tonight.”

Izzy nods, drawing the blanket around her like a human burrito. She’s already shuffling away from them when she calls out over her shoulder, “I’m expecting waffles in the morning.”

Alec snorts before responding, “As if I didn’t already know that.”

Magnus laughs and Alec tightens his arms, nuzzling into the side of Magnus’s neck. Magnus hums, reaching back and ruffling his hair. He turns his head just a bit, asking, “Ready for bed?”

Alec kisses the juncture between Magnus’s neck and shoulder before standing back and throwing an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to the kitchen.

“You said that you were hungry. Food then sleep,” he says.

“You’re exhausted, darling. You were snoring when I walked in.”

Shrugging, Alec sits in one of the chairs, watching as Magnus is already grabbing a plate and opening the pizza box. “Yeah, but you’re here and I missed you.”

Magnus doesn’t say anything, just smiles to himself as he grabs a slice of cold pizza and takes a bite.

The two of them stay in the kitchen for twenty minutes or so, Alec sitting and Magnus standing next to him devouring the rest of the pizza. They catch up on their days and share the small talk that’s always interesting, even after months together.

When Magnus is done, they head to their bedroom, Alec closing the door behind them while Magnus goes to the bathroom, taking off his makeup and undressing. Alec goes directly to the bed, landing face down and his boyfriend joins him moments later, climbing into bed in just his boxer briefs.

“Love you,” Alec says, face smashed into the pillow and more than halfway asleep again.

Magnus relaxes into the sheets, his answering, “I love you too, darling,” drowned out by those adorable little snores he loves so much.

Magnus falls asleep, content, remembering at the last minute to wake up with Alec.

His boyfriend was many things, but cook he was not. Those waffles that Isabelle enjoyed so much were the work of Magnus fixing Alec’s diligent attempts and it wouldn’t do to let his charade fall to pieces.

It was nice to let Alec have some things, after all.

[valentinesweapon]

Friends Don’t

AO3 || Based On

Sun setting over the horizon as they drove, nothing being said between the pair and nothing on the radio. It was pure silence between them, none of them daring to break it. Not after what they’ve essentially just done. This wasn’t how he was suppose to be spending this day. He wasn’t suppose to be sitting in his van in a tux, sneaking glances over at the blond on the other seat. Maybe it was cold feet? Maybe... he wasn’t ready. Maybe... they’re all just excuses because deep down, he knows the real reason and that is sitting next to him in the vehicle he has had since he was seventeen years old.

“She’s going to be pissed,” He finally speaks, taking a look over at the blond next to him before his eyes are back on the road.

“No, she won’t,” was the reply, and it didn’t make him feel any better.

They had screwed their friends and family over, made them get all pretty and for what? For her to walk down the aisle to... nothing? If they turned around, they wouldn’t make it back. They’ve been driving for little over an hour.

Finding a park, finding their park he pulls over and they get out. It’s quiet, kids and parents going home ready for dinner. A few teenagers, lurking around. He spots his favourite part of the park and walks to it, knowing that he was following. Climbs up and waits for him to come up too. Legs crossed, not caring what it does to his tux. It was a waste of money anyway.

Brown eyes meet mismatched ones and, still they don’t speak yet, they both know everything that is going through the other’s mind. They have since they were ten years old. Keys in his hands, moving from hand to hand, spinning around the key chain, and he feels his hands being enclosed by slightly bigger hands.

He knows the words that he wants to say, he knows what is going on but he can’t voice it. Memories coming and go through his mind.

It was nine at night, when Jace was leaving to go home - but here he was playing with the keys to his bike. Jace needed to go home so that he could get enough rest for his morning shift, or at least, that is what he told him as he got up after saying he had a date tomorrow. There was something bothering the blond, and their eyes wouldn’t meet so it made it hard to figure it out.

“I just hope your date goes well. She’s a lucky girl,” Jace says, looking for a second and flashing a quick smile. And why did it hurt? Why did it hurt to see that smile upon his face, one that didn’t reach his eyes?

He feels Jace’s thumbs moving soothingly against the back of his palms, and it was so calming. He remembers the late night calls they would make, for whatever reason, most of the time there wasn’t a real reason but Simon loved them.

Stumbling together, holding each other up as they tried to make their way down the street. They’re laughing about something, god knows what, because he’s already forgotten. It just feels so natural with this man by his side, laughing like nothing could stop them. Why doesn’t he feel like this when he’s with her? He just doesn’t understand it.

They reach Jace’s apartment, and he watches as he fumbles to put the keys into the lock. A happy giddy smile upon his lips as the door opens and Jace lets out a big cheer. It was sure was loud enough to wake up the neighbours. Jace turns to look at him, flashing a big smile at him and god it made his stomach flutter.

Jace leans in and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, and there’s something in his eyes that Simon just can’t decipher it. It looks like he wants to say something, but he’s holding his tongue. “G’dnight Si-mon,” He says with a hiccup before he’s going into his apartment and closing the door behind him.

It’s been playing at him, for the past few days, since that night, his bachelor party. What was on Jace’s drunken mind? What was on his mind every time he stalls leaving Simon?

The sun has gone down now, and they’re alone. He’s suppose to be standing at an alter with Jace by his side, and his future wife standing in front of them. Yet, he’s here with Jace in front of him.

“Simon?” Jace asks, his voice so soft and caring like he’s just waiting for Simon.

“I... She’s going to hate me. I... this is suppose to be our big day, yet, here I am. Sitting with one of my good dam best friends, not in front of her saying our vows. God! She deserves so much better then this,” Simon rambles, his hands itching to move but are restrained by Jace’s hands still over his.

Jace removes one of his hands, and wipes at the tears that were starting to fall from his eyes. Why did he have to be such an emotional jerk, a jerk who leans into the touch. “Simon, she will not hate you. I know her, and so do you. She isn’t capable of such hate. She’ll be hurt a-,”

“Jace! Simon!” Isabelle’s voice called out and they both froze in place. Looking into each other’s eyes, they knew what would happen. She would find them, and they wouldn’t have a good excuse. None of them were brave enough to peer over the railing, but it wasn’t needed but not even a minute later, did Isabelle’s head pop up.

Her hair was curled, and half done up. Her make up looking flawless and her white dress was fitting. Looking between the two boys, she gives her head a small shake. “You two, come down please. I’m here by myself, no one else is here. Just us three.”

With that, Isabelle heads back down and waits for the boys, and they’re down next to her soon. Simon with his head looking down, ashamed until it was lifted by Isabelle who made their eyes meet. “That’s better Si,” She says with a smile upon her lips. “Do you love me?”

“I do,” He replies, choking on a sob, because he does. He does love her, he just thinks that maybe it wasn’t what he thought it was. She is still holding his face to be in line with hers.

She gives a small nod of her head, “Do you love Jace?”

“Y-Yes,” He can’t hold it back, he can’t lie to her anymore, to himself or to Jace.

“Is it the same kind of love?” Simon shakes his head, and Isabelle runs her fingers from her other hand, through Simon’s curls. Her eyes moving to glare at Jace who looked like he was about to make a dash for it. “Okay, now Simon, I will not be mad. I am not mad now, so... Who do you love romantically?”

Sucking in a deep breath, he says, “Jace,” and it does feel like a weight has been lifted because it’s admitted out loud. Isabelle leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” Isabelle says, finally letting go of his chin. There is a smile upon her lips, and Simon doesn’t understand it.

“What?” His face contorts into confusion as he looks at her.

“For the truth Si. You have never loved me like you have him, I think that deep down I’ve known that too. Like deep down, you’ve known you’ve loved him,” Isabelle says, and he’s shedding tears again and she wipes them away. “So, before Alec can give you the shovel talk... I will. The wedding is off, I called it off when I heard you went for a drive. I figured you finally figured that out.”

“You deserve so much better then me, I did you dirty,” Simon says, voice cracking a little as the words slip pass.

She shakes her head, “No. You didn’t know what you felt. Feelings are a messy thing, ask the expert on messy feelings. I’ll be staying with Alec and Magnus tonight.” She tells them before pressing a soft kiss to each of their cheeks before she leaves in a car.

The silence is deafening and growing, until Jace moves to stand in front of Simon. “I... I should have never drunk called her that night. I ruined your wedding with my feelings.”

“You called Izzy when?” Simon asks, it’s stupid because they’re siblings. They can call each other whenever they want.

“That night of your bachelor party. I... I drunk called her, she... played me it the next day. She... asked if I loved you, and I couldn’t lie to her. But, I promised her that I wouldn’t let my feelings get between you two getting married. I would have never wanted to be the reason for that.”

“But... you are, because I love you too,” Simon replies, going to take Jace’s face into his hands. Thumbs wiping at the tears on his face. It seems that even no wedding happened, tears still fell tonight.

“I’m sorry... I should have told you earlier,” Jace whispers, and Simon hurts because he should have figured it out earlier. He should not have lead Isabelle along, if he had known earlier this mess might have been them at the alter saying their I do’s not them standing in a park in tuxedos.

Silence falls between them once again, and to stop it he leans in to press his lips against Jace’s. Relaxing as Jace returns the kiss and arms go around each other. The kiss could have lasted a minute or an hour but, he didn’t want it to end and that’s why he chased it when Jace pulled away. Foreheads leaning against each other, before they decide to drive back to Simon’s where they just strip out of their tuxes into some of Simon’s PJ’s before they settle for some ice cream and movies. They fall asleep on the couch that night, cuddling into each other.

[mapleleafstrash]

Mason - Morgan Rielly

Anonymous said: Morgan Reilly one where you have a son together from your teen years but you aren't together and he didn't know.

A/N: Thinking this might become a multi-part imagine, so I purposely left it open. Let me know if you think I should continue :)

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Morgan Rielly

Words: 3,422

Warnings: None

"Mommy I really want to go to the game with Uncle Simon! Please!"

You sighed, and closed your eyes tight as all possible scenarios swirled through your head. They were all negative by the way.

Your five-year-old, well almost six-year-old son Mason pouted as he watched you contemplate your decision.

Your best friend, Simon, or well, Uncle Simon to Mason, stared at you as well. You were angry, livid more like it. You had done everything in your power to keep Mason away from the game of hockey, yet Simon had knowingly gone against your wishes. The worst part about this was the fact that the Toronto Maple Leafs were in town tonight.

You lived in Vancouver, and had for your entire life. That's where you had met your first love, Morgan Rielly. Yes, that Morgan Rielly.

It was a typical teenage relationship. Full of passion with zero thinking in regards to any repercussions that may come about due to your reckless ways. The repercussion that had occurred was you getting pregnant at the age of seventeen.

And you never told Morgan.

When you found out you were pregnant, Morgan had already departed to Moosejaw to play for his junior team. You had both previously agreed to end your relationship purely due to the distance and the pressures Morgan would be undoubtedly facing. So, by the time you found out you were carrying Mason, you knew it was too late to say anything. You didn't want to ruin his upcoming professional career. You didn't want to take away his pride and happiness. Most of all, you didn't want to be the one to crush his childhood dream.

You still watched Morgan however. You had watched him play world juniors, you had watched him get drafted, and you regularly kept up with the Leafs during their seasons. You silently always rooted for Morgan Rielly, the now assistant-captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs. In another life, maybe things might have worked out, but in this one, you knew it was impossible.

Some who knew of the situation claimed you were selfish, while others argued you were selfless. Either way you didn't care. The only person’s opinion that mattered to you now was that of your son.

Your adorably cute, blonde-haired, blue-eyed little boy.

The same one who was currently starring you down and giving you his puppy-dog look.

You felt your heart waiver at the sight, and you groaned, causing Mason to jump up in victory. He knew he got you.

"Fine," you grumbled, "but you are to listen to Uncle Simon. No matter what. Understand?" You questioned, and Mason nodded enthusiastically.

"Good, go get ready bud," Simon then finally spoke, causing Mason to squeal with joy as he bolted around the corner and bounded up your staircase.

Pursing your lips towards your so-called friend, Simon sighed, "c'mon Y/N, please don't be mad,”

"Oh I'm not mad," you spoke, crossing your arms, "I'm livid Simon,"

"I'm sorry I wanted to do something nice for the kid," Simon groaned, putting his arms up in defeat.

"You went behind my back and then put me on the spot in front of Mace, and I honestly don't appreciate it at all," you explained, giving him a harsh look.

"You know he loves the Canucks babe," Simon argued, which caused you to roll your eyes.

"Fine. Fine okay, yes he loves the Canucks, and it's fine to take him to a game I suppose. By why of all nights would you choose this game?! You could've gone another night Simon!" You seethed, starting to feel anxious at the thought of your little boy witnessing his father in the flesh.

Simon looked towards you, "of all things, he's what you're worried about?"

"Yes!" you painfully admitted.

"Mason isn't going to find out Y/N," Simon told you blandly.

"And Morgan?" you asked, gritting your teeth.

Simon growled, "who cares?! How in the world is Morgan going to figure everything out when he's busy playing a god damn hockey game?!"

"I don't know Simon! Which is why I'm freaking out! What if Mason finds out?!" you bit back, your nerves getting the better of you.

"Like he's going to put two and two together Y/N, he's five!" Simon cried out, "and Morgan Reilly is totally going to see him up in the nose bleeds and think, oh my god, that's my kid! You're being ridiculous,"

You sighed, feeling tears linger close to falling down your cheeks. Taking a deep breath, you dropped down onto the arm of your couch and rubbed your temples, trying to relax. Simon was right. You were overreacting. There was no way Morgan and Mason would figure anything out. However, a small part of you felt guilty.

You wanted so badly to take your little boy to the game and point out number forty-four from the Leafs. It was killing you to keep this from Mason. He was getting older, and the topic of Mason's father had come up once or twice, but you had played coy and could so far deflect any questions your five-year old had asked. 

"Have you ever considered like, reaching out?" Simon's voice asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

"Every day," you muttered back bitterly.

But you couldn't, and you knew that better than anyone.

"Mommy!"

Looking over, you smiled brightly towards Mason, who had re-appeared into the room, wearing his little Canucks jersey. He had gotten it as a present this past Christmas.

"You look so handsome Mace," you gushed to your son, as he bounded towards you and jumped into your outstretched arms. Snuggling him in close, you placed a kiss onto the crown of his head and rubbed his back. 

"Why don't you come with us? You haven't been to a game in years Y/N," Simon suggested, causing Mason to sit up and look at you with bright eyes. 

"Yeah Mommy! You can come too!" Mason squealed, grinning his pearly white baby teeth towards you.

You pursed your lips. Simon had mentioned the seats were in the nosebleeds, which did comfort you slightly. But the thought of being in the same building as Morgan made you feel uneasy. You still carried feelings for him, and hadn't once strayed from them, even after all these years. I mean, how could you? You had given birth to his doppelganger. You were never going to be able to escape from Morgan Rielly.

An hour later, you found yourself tightly gripping Mason's small hand in yours. Walking in the downtown area had always made you nervous, especially when you had Mason with you. Simon was walking in front of you two, leading the way.

As you entered the arena, Mason became very excited. His blue eyes wandered the arena hallways in astonishment. Every time you passed a player's poster or a merchandise kart Mason was quick to point it out to you. You just nodded and smiled towards your son, playing along.

When you were about to hop onto the escalator to take you up to towards the upper deck, Simon's hand caught you on the shoulder. Looking back at him questionably, Simon gave you a sheepish grin.

"Aren't we going up?" You asked, feeling confused.

"Well, not exactly," Simon admitted, "we're actually down in the lower bowl."

"Excuse me?" you gritted out, not wanting Mason to catch on to the situation.

"Well I had to switch the tickets around so I could get three. These were the only one's I could get," Simon explained, handing you the three tickets. "They're row seven, but they're off to the side. Mason can sit on the end because they back onto the player's tunnel and he can watch them skate out," 

You firmed your lips together and tried to compose yourself. "They're on the Canucks side, right?"

Simon sent you a clearly forced smile and chuckled awkwardly, "and if they're not?"

Your eyes widened. You were going to kill Simon. Just as you were about to open your mouth, Mason tugged on the bottom of your jacket, "Mommy, can we go soon? I want to watch warm-ups,"

"Yeah let's go Mace!" Simon chirped, pushing past you and grabbing Mason's hand before heading towards your section, escaping your fury and causing you to have no choice but to follow along.

Once you were at the summit of the section, your eyes widened suddenly as Mason charged his way down to the bottom of the rink. "Mason slow down!" You yelled down towards him, using your quote on quote, 'mom voice.'

"Babe he's fine, he's just excited," Simon called up to you, as he was a few rows down from you, casually following your rambunctious son.

Watching Mace with a careful eye, you let out a breath once he reached the glass unharmed. He stood watching the players in awe. He placed his little hands up against the glass and stood up on his tippy toes as he observed the Leafs participating in their warm-up.

Step by step, you watched the multiple white jersey's skate circles around their side of the rink. Stopping at the seventh row, you walked down the lane and sat down in your designated seat while Simon went to stand with Mason. Your Y/E/C coloured eyes slowly scanned the ice and came to a halt when they landed on the number forty-four. 

You watched Morgan skate around and perform his routine. Skating in and out around the hash-marks, stretching near the player's bench, and practicing his wrist shot on goal. Nothing had changed. He even skated past Mason, and a bunch of the other children who were observing his warm-up, and made sure to toss several pucks over the glass.

You couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through your body when Mason had been lucky enough to catch one of the pucks. He jumped up and down and held the puck in his hand up high, as if he'd just won the greatest prize in the world. 

"Mommy look!" Mason squealed, holding out the puck towards you as he began his small journey up the concrete stairs to you.

"That's great baby," You told your son, sending him a smile.

"Yeah! Number forty-four gave it to me, did you see him?" Mason asked you, running down your aisle, and sounding incredibly proud of his new prize.

You nodded as he finally made it towards you, "I saw him baby,"

"I'm going to cheer for him, he seems really cool" Mason said, as he plopped down onto the seat next to you, and examined the puck in his tiny hands, looking towards the object in bewilderment.

Looking back down and watching Simon make his way up to the both of you, you couldn't help the feeling you were being watched. Shifting your gaze past your friend and back towards the ice, your heart stopped.

A shaky breath escaped past your lips when you suddenly met icy-blue eyes. It felt as if everything had come to a halt, and there was nobody else in the entire arena. Even though he was over one hundred feet away, his eyes had somehow still found yours, and your heart fluttered in a way you hadn't felt in years. 

Looking away quickly, you prayed Morgan hadn't recognized you. Maybe he had just been watching Mason celebrate being given a puck, or maybe it had just been a fluke and he was just looking around the crowd. 

You sent a side eye back towards Morgan moments later and he had begun skating again, allowing you to let out a sigh of relief. There was no way he could tell it was you, not after all these years.

"I'm going to go grab a drink, did you two want anything?" Simon asked, drawing you out of your thoughts.

"Can I have a slushie?" Mason asked, looking towards you rather than Simon.

"How about we just have water for now, and then after the game we can get ice cream?" You bargained, raising an eyebrow towards your little boy. He pursed his lips in thought causing you to chuckle.

"Deal," Mason decided, holding out his hand to shake on it, something the both of you did frequently.

"Two waters, got it," Simon smiled, before promising to be back before the game started.

You sat in silence with Mason, who continued to watch the Leafs skate around the ice. He was absolutely entranced. It was only a matter of time before you expected him to ask you if he could play himself. This game was definitely going to fuel his growing passion for the game of hockey.

You sighed when you felt your phone going off in your coat pocket, and pulled it out hastily. Looking at the screen, it was your boss, and due to the type of work you were employed in, you knew you had to answer.

"Hello?" you questioned, slightly turning your body away from Mason, trying not to disturb him.

"Y/N! How are you?" your manager Cindy questioned.

"I'm good Cindy, just out with Mason," you explained, hoping to hint to her that your call needed to be short.

"Ah that's nice," she spoke, "are you able to work this Saturday? I know it's not in your availability due to your son, but Ashley called in and said she wouldn't be able to come in over the next few days, strep throat apparently," Cindy sighed.

You closed your eyes and thought. You really didn't want to be away from Mason longer than you already normally had to be, but money was tight for you at the moment, and even an extra four or five hours would make a difference. "How long is the shift? If it's only for a few hours my Mom might be able to take Mason for a bit," you told her, causing her to squeal in delight.

"I just need at least four hours. Just eight to twelve," she explained.

You gritted your teeth before sighing, "I'll be there at eight, but I can't stay any longer,"

"Perfect! I'll see you then Y/N! Thanks again!"

*Beep Beep*

Rolling your eyes, you ended the call and leaned your head back. God, you needed to find a new job.

"Oops,” you heard Mason utter.

You turned back to your left, but Mason wasn't sitting in his seat. Turing back the other way your eyes widened.

Mason had jumped down over the seat and into the row below of you, following after his rolling puck. He must've dropped it while he was playing around with it. As the puck spiraled over the edge of the row and into the player's hall, Mason immediately ducked down under the safety barrier, causing your heart to stop.

"Mason don't!" You cried out, as you yourself jumped down into the next row, reaching out to grab your son. 

As Mason's body tumbled down after his beloved puck, a flash of white caused your breath to hitch, as your son's small frame landed into the arms of one of the Leafs players who had just happened to be heading down towards their dressing room. Placing your hand over your heart, you shook your head as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

"You need to be more careful bud, you could've hurt yourself," you heard a familiar voice say, the same voice you had heard in your dreams almost every night for the past six years. 

You held your figure up against the guard rail and stared down in shock as Morgan placed your son safely onto the ground. Not realizing the severity of the situation, Mason just nodded towards Morgan before he ran down the hallway to retrieve his lost puck. 

"I am so sorry," you suddenly spoke, causing Morgan's eyes to dart up towards you.

He blinked twice as he stared at you. "Y/N?" he suddenly questioned, looking at you in disbelief.

"Mommy! I got it! I got my puck!" Mason exclaimed as he ran back to stand directly below you.

You sent him a soft smile, "that's great baby,"

Morgan looked back down towards Mason and then back to you. You could tell his thoughts were swirling, and he was quickly putting two and two together. Your worst thought had come true. You hadn't wanted to tell Morgan like this, if ever. 

"Mr. Number forty-four sir?"

Morgan looked down at Mason, and your son grinned at him, "I know I'm wearing the wrong jersey, but I'm cheering for you tonight,"

Morgan smiled suddenly, breaking his dazed facial expression. "Well why don't we fix that?"

You were taken a back. That wasn't the reaction you were expecting at all. Morgan lifted his eyes towards you, "if it's okay with your mom, I can take you into the dressing room and get you a jersey,"

Mason's eyes lit up and he looked towards you in hope. You opened your mouth to speak but no words could come out. You were full of emotions and your brain was screaming at you to run, but you couldn't. You were frozen.

"That's fine, we'll be right here when you get back," Simon's voice spoke, as you felt him place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

Mason jumped up in glee, pumping his fist in the air. You caught Morgan's eyes shift towards Simon, or rather his hand, but he just nodded and led your son down the corridor and out of your sight.

Returning to your proper row, you took a seat and sat absolutely astonished. What had just happened?

"Y/N? Y/N are you okay?" Simon asked you, looking at you in concern.

"I don't know," you muttered, "I honestly don't know,"

If you could scream and cry you probably would. How could this happen? Did the world just hate you this much? You feared the worst and look at what had happened? Morgan had not only met Mason, but he also knew that he was your son. Did he suspect he was his son too? You placed your head in your hands, and you felt Simon rub your back in support.

"Mommy! Uncle Simon! Look what Mr. Morgan got me!"

You looked up and wiped away the few stray tears that had gotten away from you. Morgan had lifted Mason back over the barrier and was watching as your son ran up the stairs to both you and Simon, a brand-new Leafs jersey, which was also signed by multiple players, now being worn on his back. 

You sent him a soft smile as he proudly showed off his new jersey, and giggled as Simon acted shocked as he pointed out all the amazing players that had signed his jersey. "You got Auston Matthews to sign your jersey?! That's worth lots of money Mace," Simon said, causing Mason to smirk, "I met him too,"

"You met Auston Matthews?!" Simon asked playfully, widening his eyes towards the giggling Mason.

Looking away from the two, you caught Morgan staring back. His eyes met yours as he walked back down the tunnel slightly, and stopping directly below you. 

"I considered burning it, but I thought you'd want it back," Morgan said, as he lifted Mason's little Canucks jersey up to you.

You smiled slightly, "Thank you,"

"It was no problem Y/N." Morgan shrugged, before looking back towards Mason, a look of longing mounting his features. You suddenly felt intensely guilty. Maybe keeping Mason away from Morgan was a mistake. 

"Look I really want, well need to talk to you but I have a game in ten. Is there anyway I can meet up with you after?" Morgan asked, staring towards you pleadingly. 

"Morgan," you sighed, firming your lips.

"He doesn't have to come, if that's what you're worried about. But I just, I just really want to talk Y/N," Morgan admitted, sending you a sad smile.

You sighed, and were about to answer when you felt Mason's hands land on your lap. Looking down at your son, he beamed over the railing towards Morgan, "Mommy promised me ice cream after the game, so you can come too!"

You blinked in shock. Your heart was melting as you looked at your little boy, who stared back at you, his face hopeful, "Can't he Mommy? Please?"

Your lips curved upwards towards Mason, how could you say no to him? 

"If that's what he wants, then you're more than welcome to invite him Mason," you replied, looking back down towards Morgan, who wore a soft smile.

"I'd love to,"

[miracleonicefanfiction]

The Sound of Silence

Hello darkness, my old friend

I’ve come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence

October 30, 1979

After the US defeated the Flint Generals in a whopping 15-0 victory, the media following the game was nothing short of crazy. However, the media usually called out the ‘big’ names: Johnson, Craig, McClanahan, O'Callahan, and Eruzione; which was why Mark was surprised when he’d taken one step out the arena door and heard “Pavelich!”.

Now, he was darting to the team’s bus like a frantic mouse running from a cat. Some of his teammates loved the spotlight, Eruzione and Craig seemed to never get enough. Then, there were guys like Johnson and McClanahan, who enjoyed treating interviews like a competition of providing the most complex and descriptive answers to questions. But Mark had despised the flash of a camera and crackle of a microphone for as long as he could remember.

Scrambling around teammates already giving interviews, Mark had thought that he was homefree when a reporter stopped him dead in his tracks with a camera light that made him feel like a deer in headlights. “Pavelich, can you explain to me what was running through your mind when you completed a hattrick tonight?”

Freezing up, Mark had spotted the closest person, which happened to be Rob McClanahan, walking toward the bus. Grabbing the Minnesotan’s arm and thrusting him into the spotlight, he whispered, “Help. Me.”

Glancing at Mark, he began rambling on about the premier quality of the Flint Generals’s Arena’s ice and how the Bloomington Ice Arena should be on the same level of standard. Blocking the reporter from getting to Mark, he began a list of complaints about how the olympic team should be better funded. Seizing the golden opportunity, Mark sprang for the team bus. Dashing up the bus’s steps, he knocked into John Harrington.

“Easy there, buddy. You’re safe from the evil camera monsters now. You know, you should be thankful that they even want to talk to you. Nobody ever asks for Harrington.”

Chuckling, Dave Silk spoke up, “That’s because you suck.”

“Well, you swallow, Silky,” John spat back, causing the inhabitants of the bus to burst into laughter.

As the two got caught up arguing, Mark scurried to the back of the bus, where he settled himself and took out his guitar. Strumming on the strings, he awaited for his teammates’ usual song requests.

As the remaining boys piled onto the bus, Dave Christian called out, “Hey Pav, can you play some Bob Dylan?”

“Aw, he did that yesterday!” Jack O'Callahan complained. “Do some Simon and Garfunkel, Pav.”

“Sing Homeward Bound,” Rob suggested, turning around from the seat in front of Mark. “Because I can’t wait to get out of this hell-hole.”

“I’m sorry, but weren’t you just ranting to a reporter about how nice this arena was?” Mark Johnson questioned from the seat next to Rob.

“It’s called theatrics. And for that reason Pav should adhere to my request,” Rob spat.

With that, Mark began strumming his guitar to the methodical melody that was “Homeward Bound.”

“I’m sitting in a railway station, got a ticket for my destination.  Mmhm.  On a tour of one night stands, my suitcase and guitar in hand.  And every stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one man band.  Homeward Bound. I wish I was.  Homeward Bound.  Home, where my thought’s escaping;  Home, where my music’s playing;  Home, where my love lies waiting silently for me.”

It was 11:00P.M., and most of the team had drifted off during the hour long bus ride to the airport. But Mark could not sleep, nor had he desired to. The quiet of the night was something that he had always admired. It was intriguing and satisfying, observing the street lights and empty roads. Sometimes, he felt as if time slowed down. Everything seemed to contain a more precious quality in the darkness of the night. He presumed that the foremost reason he valued the late nights over all else was that the normal hustle-and-bustle of busy streets were almost completely abandoned. Perhaps the vacancy was even relaxing for him. Perhaps it became an alternative reality, taking him away from the one thing that weighed him down the most: guilt.

In restless dreams I walked alone

Narrow streets of cobblestone

‘Neath the halo of a street lamp

I turned my collar to the cold and damp

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light

That split the night

And touched the sound of silence

“Alright boys, wakey-wakey,” Craig Patrick called out in a voice too chipper for midnight. “We’re at the airport.”

As everyone exited the vehicle at a turtle’s pace, Mark found himself fascinated by the lights of airplanes taking off on the runway.

“Come on, Pav, hurry up!” Buzz Schneider called out, shaking Mark from his day -night- dreaming. Running to catch up with the group, he couldn’t help but sink himself back into his faults. It was his reality after all, not just a bad dream. Although, everyday he woke up hoping that it was just that- a bad dream. He supposed that that had been the day he had lost his voice. He grieved over losing his best friend everyday, and knowing his impact was unintentional did nothing for the matter. Mark had yet to find someone who could empathize with him.

It was now 1:00A.M., and majority of the team was sprawled out across the airport benches in a massive slumber. Yet, Mark could not have been more awake. Watching the airplanes methodically takeoff down the runway through smudgy glass, he could not understand how he could be so fascinated, yet so terrified. Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, except maybe John Harrington, Mark was deftly afraid of flying; it made him often question if his grunt work equated the potential glory considering the entire Olympic journey would consist of constant traveling: cars, buses, trains, and planes.

“Isn’t that amazing?” A voice crept behind Mark.

Turning his head, he was face to face with Jim Craig, the team’s goaltender. Mark hadn’t known much about Jim, other than the fact that he almost never shut up. Nodding, Mark felt no need to vocalize his thoughts when he already knew what would come out of the conversation.

“You know, I can’t help but ask, what’s your deal?” Jim asked, a little too chipper for the earliest of the morning hours.

Furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief, Mark could not believe that someone would dare ask him about his past. He assumed most of them had an idea, and were smart enough to leave him alone about it.

Figuring that Mark was not looking to open up to him in the next century or two, Jim decided he would back off, but not back down. “Okay, so you’re gonna be that way. Fine, I’ll figure you out eventually, Pav.”

Unsure of what to make of Jimmy, Mark walked back over to where the team was.  Most of the Bostonians were getting competitive playing some type of card game which Mark was not familiar with, while the Minnesotans were fairly quite. Most of them were sleeping in awkward, makeshift positions. Rob McClanahan and Steve Christoff were using Phil Verchota as a cushion. Meanwhile, Buzz and Bah were playing with Mark’s guitar, drawing a crowd of observing teammates.

“Cathy, I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh Michigan seems like a dream to me now It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw I’ve gone to look for, America.”

Grunting in frustration, Mark yanked his guitar out of Buzz’s hands.

“Hey, I can’t sing acapella!” Bah exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Yeah, Pav, let them finish the song!” Neal Broten squeaked from the floor, beneath a sleeping Rob’s feet.

Looking Buzz in the eyes, Mark decided to loan his most precious item, other than his fishing rod, to the one person he trusted the most. Handing the guitar back to Buzz, he sat down beside Neal, intrigued by the fact that he was finally listening to music rather than playing it.

As Bah began to sing again, Coach Patrick came over to wake the boys up for the umpteenth time. “Come on boys, time to board. Let’s hustle!”

The lethargic group of hockey players boarded their aircraft in a sluggish manner, while Mark trudged behind, building up fear. He took his seat next to Bah, and noticed Jimmy already chatting up Buzz across the aisle. Although he could not make out what they were saying, it appeared to be a serious-minded conversation since neither was laughing, or even smiling.

“Hey, Buzzy, what’s the deal with Pav?” Jim asked his seat buddy, cautiously glaring between Buzz and Mark.

Eyes widening, Buzz put a finger to his lips and whispered, “Quiet, Jimmy, it’s a sensitive topic.”

“I don’t think quiet is in my vocabulary. But please care to enlighten me on said topic.”

“Why are you so curious?”

“Because he seems like he needs help. And I believe I can help him,” Jimmy attempted to whisper, which obviously wasn’t quiet enough considering he caught the attention of Rob McClanahan and Mark Johnson.

“Who are you guys talking about?” Mark Johnson asked, peeking his head through the gap between headrests.

Closing his book, Rob positioned his head on top of Mark’s. “Spill, I am in need of some gossip to engage my cerebellum in something other than how horrid these seats are.”

“No way,” Buzz rejected, “this is a private conversation, so you two noisy lovers can go ahead and back off.”

“Fine, we have better things to talk about anyways.”

“Now listen close, Jimmy, because I’m not repeating this. The summer before Pav started at UMD, he was involved in an accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“A hunting one. He lost his best friend, along with his will for words,” Buzz shook his head in unrest.

“Are you insinuating what I think you are? Oh gosh. That is terrible,” Jim responded, realizing that he might just be able to find someone with whom he could empathize.

“But don’t take that the wrong way, alright? Pav is a really nice guy, and he sure as hell wouldn’t do anything like that intentionally.”

The rest of the plane ride to Minnesota Mark clung to his seat for dear life, praying that the aircraft would not crash.

And in the naked light I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never share

And no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence

It was now 3 A.M., and the team had just arrived at the Minneapolis airport. Digging his fingernails into the armrests for dear life as the plane began landing, Mark shoved a piece of gum, which he’d gotten from Rob, into his mouth.

Glancing to his right, he noticed that Bah was still asleep. Nudging him awake, he yawned and remarked, “Well look at you, Pavey, you survived the plane ride.”

Rolling his eyes, Mark grabbed his carry on bag and darted off the plane, to his freedom. He could see all the lights from buildings in the city across the landscape, and it certainly was a lot busier than Flint.

As the boys went to the luggage carousel, Mark was elbowed by someone. Before he could even turn around, Jimmy placed himself in front of Mark. Bracing two hands on his shoulders, Jimmy whispered, “Sit with me on the bus, okay?”

Nodding, Mark wondered why Jim seemed to be so infatuated with him. As he watched Jimmy run off to go bother someone else, Dave Christian ran into his side and knocked the suitcase out of his hand. Grunting, Mark bent down to retrieve it. When he stood up again, he spotted Neal and Dave playing on the carousel. They were actually laying on their teammates’ luggage as it spun in a circle around the terminal.

Mark couldn’t help but smile and giggle. “Why don’t you go on in there with them, since you seem to be enjoying this so much,” Buzz chuckled, causing Mark to smirk.

Now, all the boys were amused watching the two pranksters ride the machine round and round. Neal began handing out luggage to the teammate in which it belonged to. “Here you go, Mac, I believe this is yours,” Neal smiled, pointing to the bag he was sitting on.

“Alright so get off and give it to me,” Rob demanded, following Neal as he spun around on the carousel.

“Hmmm, let me think about it… Nah, I’m good,” Neal chuckled, still sitting on Rob’s bag as it went around the room.

“Neal, give me the bag!” Rob yelled. “It’s frickin’ three in the morning, just give me my damn bag!” Rob began chasing Neal as he proceeded on the conveyor belt. The two engaged in a tug of war with Rob’s duffle bag, until Rob gave up in frustration. “How is this acceptable behavior?” Rob screamed, causing Craig Patrick to respond,

“I don’t see anything, Mac.”

Throwing his hands up and glaring at Craig, he waited for Neal to reach the point where he was standing, before jumping on him. Now Rob and Neal were wrestling as the carousel continued to loop, while Dave was hanging out people’s bags.

“Thank goodness there’s no one else here but us,” Buzz whispered.

“Pav, your guitar,” Dave called, handing out the guitar towards Mark. “Hurry up!”

Running over to Dave as he was moving, Mark snatched his instrument and prayed that it was not damaged.

Once the debacle had ended, the team found their bus. Mark remembered what Jimmy had said to him, and searched for him once he got on the bus. He had spotted Jim in the back when he began waving. Not wanting any attention drawn to him, Mark scurried to the row where Jimmy was. Sitting down, he waited for Jim to say whatever it was that he felt he needed to.

After approximately five minutes went by silent, Mark whispered, “Well?”

“Wow, you do talk!” Jim exclaimed louder than necessary. “Um, I mean, well what?”

“What is it that you wanted to say?”

“I don’t know yet. When it comes to me, I’ll let you know,” Jim smiled.

Confused, Mark questioned, “Of all the times, this is the one that you chose to be quiet?”

“Not every moment has to be passed with words, Pav. I thought you of all people would know that.”

Raising an eyebrow, Mark was surprised by what he was hearing.

“Sometimes words aren’t necessary, and it’s better to just listen. If we don’t listen, then we become self-absorbed and unappreciative. It’s best to just take time to enjoy life, because we only have one,” Jim remarked, staring out the window.

After another five minutes passed, Jim observed, “Isn’t that skyline so pretty?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Reminds me of home,” Jim remarked, turning back to Pav, “Just like in that song you play.”

Smiling, Mark nodded.

“Alright, let me ask you a question: why do you play music, Pav?”

“Because I like to play music,” Mark responded.

“Wrong.”

“What? Wrong?” Mark inquired, puzzled.

“Music is your escape from reality,” Jim conveyed. “I assume hockey is another one.”

Speechless, Mark continued to stare at his seat buddy.

“Look, mine is talking, telling stories, you know? And playing goalie, I forget about everything: my past, my present. I don’t even worry about my future.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Mark shook his head.

“Maybe you don’t, because you just don’t recognize it yet. Listen, Mark, we’re a lot more alike than you’d think.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Lowering his tone, Jim continued, “I know what it’s like to lose someone close to your heart. To feel like there’s something you could’ve done, said, or felt. To believe that it’s all your fault, living everyday with guilt. I know, Mark, I really do.”

With widening eyes, Mark responded, “I guess you already know my story.”

“Yes, I do. So let me tell you mine. My mother passed away when I was sixteen, Mark. Every day I felt like it was my fault, even though I can’t cure cancer. As though I could’ve convinced her not to smoke. I still feel like I should’ve said more, and I question if I was a good son to her. When it happened, I began to shut my father out of my life, until I realized he was all I had left of my mother,” Jim spoke, getting teary-eyed. “So believe me when I tell you, I can empathize with you.”

Fools, said I, you do not know

Silence like a cancer grows

Hear my words that I might teach you

Take my arms that I might reach you

But my words, like silent raindrops fell

And echoed in the wells of silence

Turning away from Jim, Mark felt a rush of emotions inside of him.

“And I’m not the only one, either. Mo lost his dad a few years ago. Silky never even had one. Magic’s sister has a serious illness, I don’t think she speaks at all. I’m sure even guys like Mac have something. We’re all the same, Mark. We’re broken. But we have each other, and we have our own coping to heal our wounds,” Jim comforted his teammate.

“How do you know all that?” Mark inquired.

“Like I said, I talk. A lot,” Jim smiled.

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” Mark giggled, starting to feel as though he was not alone, nor had he ever been.

As Jimmy began to laugh as well, the two shared a moment that was nothing short of miraculous.

“You know, Pav, there’s another form of coping that I don’t think you even know you’re using,” Jim pressed, lightly nudging Mark.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?”

“What I hinted at before, it’s what you’re notorious for,” Jim began.

“Let me guess: being quiet,” Mark scoffed.

“No,” Jim shook his head, “Not many people know how to listen to the sound of silence.”

And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon god they made

And the sign flashed out its warning

In the words that it was forming

And the sign said, the words of the prophets

are written on the subway walls

And tenement halls

And whispered in the sounds of silence

[writteninthestars288]

Always Mine - Chapter 12

[CHAPTER ONE] [CHAPTER TWO] [CHAPTER THREE] [CHAPTER FOUR] [CHAPTER FIVE] [CHAPTER SIX] [CHAPTER SEVEN] [CHAPTER EIGHT] [CHAPTER NINE] [CHAPTER TEN] [CHAPTER ELEVEN]

A/N: Hey guys! I am super, super, SUPER sorry for such a late update. My muse for this chapter didn’t want to come out until about two hours ago. I am so sorry that you guys had to wait. I hate making you wait but I want to thank everyone who gave me such kind words of encouragement. You all are seriously amazing. That being said, this chapter is dedicated to each and every one of you <3

Katherine sat there frozen in front of him. Her heart was racing wildly and she felt ice shoot through her veins. Married for real? Was Negan insane? Did he really think she’d want to get married for real? Did he really think even if they did, everything would just magically go back to the way it was when they first started dating?

“What the fuck do you think about that, Doll?” He grinned at her, waiting for her response.

Katherine’s mind was so jumbled together that she didn’t even think about the words she was about to say.

“No.”

Negan’s smirk faltered slightly and the grip on her chin tightened.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?”

Katherine swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat as she moved her eyes to lock on Negan’s. She noted how dark and hard they were and it made her heart race. She decided on telling him the truth. She was tired of lying.

“I-I don’t want to get married.”

Negan sucked his teeth.

“And why the fuck not?”

Katherine took a shaky breath in before slowly letting it out.

“B-because I don’t think it’ll fix anything.”

It was silent for a few minutes before Negan surprisingly laughed.

“Oh, I fucking get it, Doll.” Katherine slightly furrowed her eyebrows. “Yea, yea I fucking get it. You want me to agree to fucking get rid of the other women.” He laughed as Katherine’s eyes widened slightly. “Jesus you drive a hard fucking bargain, Doll. But, I guess I can fucking do that. God knows I don’t fucking need them anymore since I’ve got my fucking Kitty Kat back.”

Katherine shook her head.

“T-that’s not what I meant.”

Negan raised an eyebrow.

“No? Then what the fuck did you mean?”

Katherine shook her head, looking down at her lap.

“Nothing.”

Negan lifted her face back up.

“Bull-fucking-shit. Tell me. Now.”

Katherine let out another shaky breath.

“You killed my friends. Y-you tortured Daryl and my family. You had Olivia killed and you killed Spencer. You even made me hurt Eugene.”

“And I had a reason for doing each and every one of those fucking things. This is a different fucking world now, Katherine. I do what I fucking have to to make sure everyone knows who is fucking in charge now. If people would just fucking listen, maybe your friends would still be fucking alive. Well…minus Spencer of course.”  He smirked maliciously at her.

Katherine shook her head as tears stung her eyes.

“You’re an asshole.”

Negan laughed and let go of her chin to pick up his drink.

“Baby, you’re not the first fucking person to call me that and you certainly won’t be the fucking last.” He took a sip of his scotch before holding the glass in his lap.

“I-I just don’t think I want to actually get married.” She said again.

“I wasn’t fucking giving you an option, Katherine.”

Katherine felt her heart drop.

“What?”

“Yea didn’t you fucking hear me? I said ‘you and I are gonna get fucking married for real.’ There was no fucking question there. Fuck, maybe I should have Carson check your fucking hearing.”

Katherine’s eyes widened.

“B-but that’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fucking fair. Consider it another fucking part of your punishment.” He smirked, taking another sip of his drink.

Katherine shook her head.

“You can’t do that.”

Negan laughed.

“Oh Kitty Kat, I can do whatever the fuck I want. For example, if I fucking wanted to, I could fucking to Alexandria right now, find Daryl and fucking kill him for killing Fat Joseph and then I could fucking kill anyone who got in my way.”

Katherine wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t just saying it as an example. He was saying it as a threat.

“W-what happened to not making women do something they don’t want to?”

Negan grinned.

“I still stand by that. But like I fucking said, this is part of your punishment. You get to be fucking stuck with me for the rest of our fucking lives.”

Katherine felt like she couldn’t breathe. She sat back on the couch, trying to calm her racing heart.

“I’ll fucking send Simon and some men to pick up that creepy ass priest from Alexandria.”

Katherine swallowed and shook her head.

“He won’t do it,” she whispered

Negan smirked.

“Well lucky for me, I can be very fucking persuasive.”

Katherine wanted to cry but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

“Do I even get a say in this?”

Negan grinned.

“Of course you fucking do!” He lent forward and cupped her cheeks in his large hands. “You get to fucking pick if your family is there or not. I know how girls always dream of their daddy walking them down the fucking aisle. And let me fucking tell you, Doll, I think it would be funny as shit to watch your father try and fucking control himself when he hands you over to me.”

Katherine shook her head.

“You’re sick.”

Negan grinned.

“I know.” He took another sip of his drink. “Why don’t you fucking lay down. You look like you’re about to pass the fuck out.” Katherine didn’t have to be told twice and slowly stood up before making her way over to the door.

“Oh and Kitty Kat, after the fucking wedding you’re moving in here with me so make sure your shit is packed.”

Katherine didn’t answer him as he laughed. She quickly exited the room and all but ran to the wives quarters. When she opened the doors, she felt five pairs of eyes all settle on her. She hadn’t seen any of the girls since the night she had dinner with Negan.

Sherry and Amber both looked at her with concern but Katherine didn’t acknowledge them. She kept her eyes on the ground and shut the doors before passing all of them and heading to her room.

She immediately collapsed onto her bed, curling up into a little ball and letting the tears fall freely. She couldn’t help but blame herself for the situation she was now in. Would this even be happening if she hadn’t said anything about having a baby while down in the basement.

Her body shook hard with sobs. A knock sounded on her bedroom door. Katherine looked up when it opened and Sherry and Amber poked their heads in.

When they saw how upset she was, they both stepped in, shutting the door behind them. “Where have you been?” Sherry asked as Katherine sat up so the two could sit next to her.

“Y-you guys don’t know?” Sherry and Amber shook their heads. Katherine took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

“W-when we went to Alexandria a couple days ago, shit hit the fan. N-Negan found out t-that I had been lying about my ex Spencer.”

“The one that was alive?” Katherine nodded at Amber as more tears fell.

“Yea. N-Negan ended up cutting his stomach open and killed him.” She let out a sob. Amber wrapped her arms around the girl as Sherry rubbed her back. Sure they didn’t know each other but they had all become somewhat close through their hatred of Negan.

“What happened?” Sherry asked. Katherine sighed.

“H-he was so mad. When we g-got back, he locked me in a cell downstairs. I was down there three days before he came to get me.”

Amber and Sherry’s eyes widened. They knew Negan had a temper but he never took his anger out on his wives. He usually took it out on people close to them.

“And then he made me whip one of my friends who he also took from Alexandria. And now…” Katherine’s throat tightened. “Now he’s making me marry him for real.”

Sherry and Amber’s eyes widened even more.

“What?”

Katherine sniffled and nodded, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“W-what about us?” Amber asked.

“H-he said he’d still give you guys the same perks but he wouldn’t sleep with you. I don’t want to be married to him but he won’t take no as an answer.”

“Sounds like Negan.” Sherry said, rubbing the young girl’s back comfortingly.

“Does that mean we can go back to our husbands?” Amber asked, her voice sounding hopeful. Katherine shrugged.

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. I’m sure he’ll talk to you guys about it.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “What am I going to do?”

Both girls sighed and wrapped their arms around her in a hug.

“Don’t let him break you. You have to be strong.”

All Katherine could do was nod but deep down, she knew it was easier said then done.

A couple days had passed and Katherine was constantly on edge. She hadn’t seen Negan since the day he had basically told her they were getting married whether she liked it or not.

She knew Negan had talked to the other girls about what was going on. Sherry had filled her in after Negan apparently all called them to his office while she was sound asleep in her room. Katherine noticed how most of the girls seemed relieved. Only one seemed upset and she made sure to send daggers Katherine’s way any chance she got.

Katherine just ignored her. She had bigger things to worry about.

Deciding to try and get her mind off of things, she decided to head down to the daycare they had in The Sanctuary. Dressing in a pair of jeans and a plain black tank top, she made her way out of of the room.

She was surprised to see she didn’t get lost on her way down. When she got down there, she gently knocked on the door before walking in.

She smiled seeing a a small group of toddlers sitting at a table drawing while two women rocked babies to sleep. They looked up and smiled at her.

“Hello.”

“Hi. Sorry is this a bad time?”

“Oh no, the babies just fell asleep. Come in.”

Katherine gave a small smile and stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind her.

“I’m Katherine.”

“Oh you’re one of Negan’s wives.”

Katherine forced a small smile on her face and nodded.

“I’m Mandy and this is Grace.”

Katherine shook their hands.

“It’s nice to meet you. I was just wondering if I could come down and spend some time with the kids. I used to be a daycare teacher and it’s nice to have something fo familiar to how things used to be.”

Mandy nodded as they watched the toddlers.

“Of course. Everyone is always welcomed here.”

Katherine smiled.

“Thank you.”

Mandy smiled and nodded before walking over to fill out some paperwork and Grace walked over to check on the babies. Katherine let out a soft sigh and walked over to the table of toddlers.

“Hey guys. What’s up?”

“We drawing!” Katherine laughed at a little girl as she sat down in a small chair at the table with them.

“I see that! What are you guys drawing?”

Katherine spent almost two hours downstairs with the kids. It was just what she needed to cheer her up.  

Katherine giggled as a little boy, Connor, showed her his dance moves.

“Wow Connor those are some moves!”

“He better save those for the fucking reception.” Katherine jumped and turned around to see Negan behind her. He grinned at her. “Ain’t this a blast from the fucking past, Doll.”

“Hi Mr. Negan.” Negan smirked and waved at the kids.

“Hi kids. You being good?” They all nodded their heads, making him laugh.

Hearing her bosses voice, Mandy came out from the back room where she was taking inventory.

“Oh, hello Negan.” Negan smiled.

“Hi. How are things fucking running down here?”

“They’re good. We’re starting to run low on some diapers though.” Negan nodded.

“I’ll add it to the fucking list. You don’t mind if I fucking steal Katherine here do you?”

“Oh no, not at all. Katherine, feel free to come by anytime.”

Katherine gave a small smile and slowly stood up.

“It was nice meeting you guys.”

“You too.”

“Bye Miss Katherine!”

Katherine smiled.

“Bye.” Negan wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her out of the room.

“You have fucking fun down there?”

Katherine silently nodded.

“Good. Maybe I’ll let you go down there more fucking often. At least you fucking smile down there.”

He laughed and pulled her in closer as they climbed the stairs.

She thought they were going to his bedroom but was surprised when he pulled her down a hallway she had never been before.

“Where are we going?”

Negan smirked down at her.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Katherine felt her heart stop. A surprise? She wasn’t sure if she should be scared or terrified.

Negan laughed at the look on her face.

“Calm the fuck down, Doll. You’ll fucking love this.”

He led her down the hallway and stopped in front of a wooden door.

“Ready?”

Katherine swallowed hard as he opened the door and pushed her inside. She stopped short, her eyes widening when she saw who was sitting there.

“Kitty Kat, you fucking know our favorite creepy ass priest. Father…Fuck I forgot your name.”

“Gabriel,” Katherine whispered, in shock. How had Negan’s men actually gotten him? Gabriel locked eyes with her, silently trying to ask her what was going on.

“Right, that’s fucking it. Well anyways, Father, I need a fucking favor from you.” He walked over and placed his hands on Katherine’s shoulder’s, squeezing tightly.

“I fucking need you to marry us.” He looked down at Katherine and smirked. “Tonight.”

[CHAPTER THIRTEEN]

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