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ilovelifeandiwanttotalkaboutit · 1 year

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Ryan Tedder Imagine:

🌶️ Honey Pt 2: Ryan Tedder x Reader Insert

Summary: Now that you two have officially done the deed, fear and humiliation falls a bit after. After discussing it, it seems it's time to play a little game. Which one of you will be the first to cave? Enjoy ;)

Warnings: Minors dni or I'll turn you into a goblin, implied age gap (still legal tho babes), inexperienced reader, oral male receiving, heavy teasing, technically period sex (tho I don't describe it during cause no one wants that), mirror female fingering, passionate missionary PIV

Word Count: 10,343

Link to Ryan Tedder Masterlist

My heart still managed to flush even though my body was exhausted. As I crawled to the bedside, taking his hand, I'm surprised when I stood that my knees wobbled out from under me. The sensation stemmed straight from between my thighs, and it almost had me laughing. Well, I smirked a little.

And it definitely had him smirking too.

Ryan caught me and said with a knowing tone, "Everything alright?"

"Shut up," I insisted, making him chuckle.

He walked with me, hand-in-hand to the bathroom. He warned me before turning on the light, but it still had me squinting. Now with the both of us in full light, I glanced at us in the mirror and felt myself blush incredibly. Now that my buzz from my orgasm had died off, I became hyper aware of the slickness between my thighs; all from lube and my own substances. I could see that my hair was still slightly damp and had dried weird in a lot of spots. My neck and breasts had several hickeys on them. Not to mention, my lips were red, puffy, and a little chapped.

I catch Ryan looking at me watching myself in the mirror after he turns on the shower, and he only smirks a little. It's devious.

I made eye contact with him in the reflection and briefly glanced over his body. His perfect chest and stomach, skin tanned and not a single blemish. Arms tattooed in different spots. I was almost annoyed that I managed to not make a single mark on him. Other than his hair sticking up wildly from me touching it and his lips gently puffed from me kissing them, he had no other signs.

"Cat got your tongue?" he smirked at me in the reflection, coming to stand next to me.

"No," I insisted, tilting my jaw up to reveal another hickey I missed observing seconds ago. Spotting it made him almost prouder.

He moved behind me slightly, brushing some of my hair behind my left ear before placing his lips next to it, saying softly, "What's the matter?"

Seeing him interact with me this way in the mirror was stirring something else inside of me, but the buzzing sensation in my legs reminded me that my body was truly tired. His eyes met mine in the mirror as his hands came around my waist, waiting for my answer.

"You've left all these marks on me, and I haven't left a single one on you," I say gently.

He smiled a little, humming before placing a kiss behind my ear, still watching me in the mirror. "That's not really true."

Ryan's fingers slip off my waist and he turns, letting me see his back. My lips part, seeing spots from my fingernails and where they dug into him a few times. I didn't draw blood, but they were still splotched and red.

"Oh," I say, my fingers tentatively reaching out to touch them. Ryan looks at me with the same expression on his face, shaking his head.

"It's alright," he says softly, picking up my fingers with his and bringing them to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on them. "You bruise easily, sweetheart. Take it as a compliment."

I feel my cheeks flush red once more as we both step into the warm shower. He pulled me in with him, fingers tracing my waist as we stepped under the water together. Shower sex hadn't even crossed my mind until now.

He shut his eyes gently as he tilted his head back, wetting his hair. I watched the water trickle down his perfect skin, past his collarbone and down his chest. What the hell did I do to deserve watching this?

He was an absolute treasure to be able to interact with, and now we've made out in his hot tub, in the hallway, had sex, and are now taking a shower together. So again, my thoughts tumbled and dried staring at the beauty of his man who was holding me so dearly to him, touching me sweet and simple as if he hadn't touched me intimately just minutes ago.

My eyes dart away when he's suddenly looking down at me. I turn to look at the shampoo, chewing on my inner cheek. He gently rotated us, stepping out of the stream so I could get a turn. I rewet my hair, my fingers coming up to help get underneath my neck. I feel his hands on me again, gently on my waist, almost slippery. A new sweet scent comes to my nose, and I see he's covered his palms in body soap, beginning to slide and rub it into my skin. We both stood partially out of the water now, and I finally looked up into his eyes.

His slate blue eyes are staring down at me, his lips pushed into his usual focused pout. I put some of the same body wash into my hands. I begin to rub my palms over his arms, slipping and lathering the soap up to his shoulders. As I feel his shoulders underneath my touch, the firmness of them, I get the sudden urge to squeeze them and try to give him a massage. Although, he's making it difficult as his hands slip around the small of my waist and onto my back, pulling me flush against him. My heart leaps as he pressed his lips down to mine, hands rising up my back with the soap.

I kissed him back, feeling the water hitting our shoulders. The kiss was more passionate than needy. It didn't feel like it was going places like our others had been earlier tonight. Although I enjoyed kissing him a lot, I backed away a little, and his grip on me loosened. He gently opened his eyes, looking at me with a slight question.

"Turn around," I whisper.

His hands trailed my waist and he raised an eyebrow, placing one more quick peck on my lips before he let go of me completely. Ryan turned himself around, and I brought my hands back towards his shoulders, smiling to myself with slight relief as he relaxed into my touch. I began to put more pressure on his shoulders with my thumbs, gently digging around and pressing them in the best spots I could.

I see his body relax and he sighs, head beginning to hang a little. He pressed his hand against the wall to steady himself

He straightened his spine and leaned into me. "That feels really nice."

I continued my motions, then pressing down and massaging my fingers across his shoulder blades, making him sigh. Then I gently came down his spine, rubbing my thumbs from the sides of the spine and out. When I reached the middle of his waist, he placed his right hand over mine, then his left over my other. He pulled me towards him, wrapping my arms around him, my hands to his hard chest. I had my chest pressed against his back now, my cheek between his shoulder blades.

He used my hands briefly over his own, rubbing the soap up his chest and across his stomach. I turned my head and placed a kiss over one of the marks I put on him earlier.

Ryan let go of one of my hands and let me loose on one side to turn towards me yet again. He seemed almost annoyed, or angry. Yet, he brought his hands below my jaw and brought my face to his, kissing me deeply.

"God," he spoke between kisses, "you're absolutely intoxicating."

I held my breath as he brought me towards the hot stream, pushing me back into it. Water fell on our faces now for a moment, but our lathered bodies were now being rinsed off. We kissed feverishly, his hands tracing my butt and eventually giving it a squeeze.

As however caught up I am in the moment, I feel something hot and familiar drip out of me, and it makes me furrow my brows with concern. Suddenly, I'm feeling really out of the moment. I know the sensation unfortunately well, and the fear that probably caught in my posture made me pray. Please, tell me what I think happened didn't actually happen.

I take one of my hands off his chest and try to subtly feel myself. I managed it quickly without him noticing and opened my eyes for the first time kissing him. In my peripherals, I see my fingers are crimson.

I broke the kiss and felt so embarrassed. I'm obviously going to have to tell him. It's not something I can hide.

He sees the nervous look in my eye and backs enough away immediately, hands resting on either side of my waist. "What's wrong?. Are you okay?"

"Uh..." I lick my lips, quickly rinsing my fingers off in the shower. He follows my eyes unfortunately and watches pink drizzle down the drain. His eyes gaze back into mine then down my body. I turned my head down and saw a line of blood that dripped down my left leg and was puddling at my feet.

I couldn't help the tears that well in my eyes and my face burned with deep embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. I was worried this was going to happen--"

"Are you alright?" He asks tentatively, then, "You're not..."

"No, no," I say, half dismissively. I covered my face with my hands momentarily before scooting him out of the shower head so I could rinse off my legs. "I'm so sorry; this is so embarrassing--"

"No, it's not," he insists, running a hand through his hair. "I... I should have been actually thinking. I should have known better."

"Some girls bleed after their first time," I mutter. "And of course, I have to be one of them."

"It's not something you should be embarrassed about," he said carefully. "Do you... Do you have supplies or anything? I can find something if you don't."

"Yeah, I do," I nod, quickly rinsing the rest of the soap off my body before scooting past him before any more blood came out of me. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I wanted to implode. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, you don't have to apologize," Ryan says steadily, "It is okay."

I was thankful he owned dark gray towels instead of white ones. There was only one, however, so when I took it off the rack, I made a note to bring him his own. I briefly dried my legs before wrapping my body in the towel, face red and almost tears in my eyes.

"I'll be right back," I stutter, walking with my thighs clenched as if it would help. My legs were exhausted and my hips were sore now that I was properly trying to walk around. I quickly made it to the hall closet and grabbed another towel, going back to his room.

I hear the water shut off, and I grit my teeth as I show my face once more. He's peeing out of the shower door, an almost deer-caught-in-the-headlights look to him. I hand him the towel, to which he says thank you, and I'm right back out the door again.

I'm thankful; I brought a couple of pads with me just in case. The hypochondriac in me wondered if the stress of being alone with Ryan would be enough to start my period early. This was a little different, but it was still circumstantial. I dried myself off once I got to my room, shutting the door behind me.

Once I'm dressed in another set of fresh lounge wear, I find myself still almost in tears. Wanting to die of embarrassment, I restrain myself from screaming into one of the pillows on the bed. Now that he wasn't next to me, I felt as if I was thinking for the first time. What the fuck did we do?

I glanced around my room, my phone plugged into the wall. I briefly thought about texting someone, anyone, about what to do, but I didn't move. No one can know what we did. This is just supposed to be between us. This was a secret. This was a secret I would be taking to the grave.

I felt like I was choking. I spot my bottle of water on my bedside table and practically dove for it. I force myself to take calming deep breaths and try to pull myself together.

I flinch when there's a small knock on my door.

Ryan softly calls my name through the door, "I know you probably want to be alone right now, but I just wanted you to know that I've had much worse happen, and this really isn't a big deal. I don't think less of you, or think you're… you know, gross, or anything--"

I open the door and see him on the other side, dressed in a black T-shirt and another pair of sweats as well. In his hands were my folded pair of clothes that he took off of me less than an hour ago. He was looking at me with shy eyes as I took them, thanking him in a whisper.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

I give a small nod, then a bit of a shrug. My clothes feel cold in my hands and my throat feels dry. "I'm just… I'm just thinking. That's all."

He gives a nod of understanding, eyes glancing at the floor before gesturing behind him. "Can we talk about it?"

I toss the folded clothes on the corner of the bed and sweep my usual sweatshirt off the floor. As I follow him back down the hallway and towards the living room, I slip it over my head, the smell of my laundry from home making me feel more calm and comforted.

I settled into an end of the couch, as did he. I sat with my feet tucked in beside me, placing a pillow on top of my knees. I looked at him expectantly, hoping maybe he would start. Surely, he understood what I was so pent up about.

"So," he begins, "Tell me what you're thinking."

I begin to gather my thoughts, trying to sort them. The heaviness in my chest now was suffocating me. "Well," I cleared my throat, "now I'm just... worried, I guess."

"Worried?" he repeated.

I leaned my head against the back of the couch and squeezed my eyes shut. "Well, it's like the same sort of guilty feeling I got outside after we kissed in the hot tub. Sort of the 'what the fuck did we just do?' sort of guilt. Surely, you feel it too."

"Guilty and worried are both two different things," he says softly, "but I understand."

I shook my head and opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling. "Because I mean, seriously. What the fuck did we just do? How did it fall apart so fast? One second I was holding myself and then it all fell apart... how?"

"What parts of this are making you feel the most guilty?" he clarified, "because maybe we can do something about it? Or at least address them."

The way he phrased the question made me almost a little irritated. I turned my head towards him and couldn't help but ask, "Do you not feel any sort of guilt? None at all?"

"The only thing that's making me regret it is how it's making you feel now," he says honestly. "I don't like that you're feeling this way. Since it can't be undone, I want to help. Well, I want to try and help."

Tears burned in my eyes, but I remained focused to keep them at bay.

"I felt guilty when I first started properly having feelings for you," he admitted quietly, playing with the frayed ends of a pillow. "I obviously didn't want to because of our circumstances. That, and it felt... you know, a little immature."

I nodded, holding my breath momentarily when I wiped away my eyes.

"But what we just did, it made me feel different. Different in a way that I haven't felt in a really long time," he says, "And that's not to say that that outweighs any feelings you have. I'm an idiot for not taking them into account."

"You took them into account the entire time, Ryan, don't say that like this is all your fault," I say softly. "You consistently asked me throughout the whole experience if I was alright and if I wanted to go through with it. I did."

"Yeah, but..." he gave a small sigh, "I shouldn't have even started this. I really shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"Well, imagine what would have happened if you hadn't done anything," I say, thinking out loud. "We'd both probably be in bed right about now, tossing and turning over pent up feelings."

"We'd both be?"

I blinked slowly and turned my head towards him. My anxiety was now swimming through the roof. My cheeks turned pink. He'd already admitted to having feelings for me, but I never said anything about me for him.

I stood and started pacing towards the kitchen, still tears burning in my eyes.

"Where are you going?" he watched me.

"Making hot chocolate," I say, taking out a large liquid measuring up. "Want one?"

He gets up from the couch, "No, I'll make myself a tea."

"Okay," I murmured, taking the milk from the fridge.

We both individually began making our beverages, silence falling between us. He turned on the kettle and leaned against the counter, watching me pour a cup and a half of milk into the measuring cup and set it in the microwave for a few minutes. As I found the sugar and the cocoa, I avoided his gaze, feeling him looking at me. I gave the small shake of my head as a tear fell down my cheek. As I turned away, I wiped it, but it quickly got replaced.

My name falls from his lips in a slight coo, just making me feel that much worse.

My fingers were shaking now, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. I felt Ryan come closer, his hands falling on my upper arms. I sighed and dropped the tablespoon measure into the cocoa. He turned me in his arms and pulled me closer to him. My damp eyes made contact with his shoulder and I slipped my arms around his waist. I managed to hold back a sob.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He made a small disproving noise, holding one hand flat against my back which the other cradled my head. I took a deep breath, my nose pressed against his shirt. He smelled clean and fresh and comforting, but all the same, it still made me want to cry.

"I feel like such an idiot," I sniffed, backing away enough to wipe away my tears. He let go of me, but remained close, his thumb tracing my cheek as another tear fell.

"I... I never thought I would ever put myself in this position," I mutter, taking another few deep breaths. I couldn't stand to look him in the eye, especially when I felt like I was admitting the world away. "I didn't think about how it would make me feel. I didn't care. I'm so... I'm so frustrated with myself."

He still didn't speak, letting me go on.

"Just..." I squeezed my eyes shut, almost wishing to be home. "What happens now? We still have another four days here-- we didn't even last three days without something happening. What's supposed to be next?"

"I think," Ryan paused, choosing his next words carefully. "We both knew this wasn't going to last forever, right? This isn't... We aren't going to be permanent. We can't make anything out of this."

I began nodding, feeling my heart tear in half, but knowing it was the truth. "Yes, I know."

"Then," his fingers lingered on my arms, "I say, for right now, we don't need to worry about it. We just... continue on. We'll write that song and focus back on having a good time like before. Then after the trip... I don't know, we can figure it out. We can talk about it anytime."

His words calmed me a lot, and I finally looked up at him. He had a serious expression on his face, eyebrows furrowed and lips gently pursed.

"Okay," I whisper, wiping the rest of my tears away. He was right. I really didn't have to worry. This was our choice, and we were going to make it what we will.

I took yet another deep breath, "Thank you."

He then smiled softly, lifting my chin with his finger a little. When I thought he was going to kiss my lips, he instead placed the kiss on my forehead. My eyes had drifted shut for a second, my chest swirling again with excitement. Damn him for making me feel this way. He sighed a little, running his hands only once more down my arms before backing away.

"We'll figure it out," he whispered.

The aroma of his soap began to disappear as he drifted away from me, back to the other side of the kitchen counter where he continued to lean. I found my body wavering after his touch, stumbling the littlest bit to catch myself.

My eyes drift to the floor. I'm still frustrated. Although, now it's less with myself and more with what just happened. It was stupid that I wanted him to kiss me still. All the sweet touches, even having him stand right against me felt like something. Anything.

Then, I hear him begin to laugh.

I peer at him annoyed, "What?"

He had his mouth covered with his fingers, slumping over for a moment when he tried to catch his laughter. He had shrugged and tried to assume the normal posture, but failed to do so without a grin.

"What?!" I ask again.

"Nothing!" He claims, still smirking to himself as he glanced over at me, "You're just like a touch starved little puppy, that's all."

As I flatten my lips into a line, knowing it was damn true, he began to laugh again. Then, I found myself giggling a little too. My eyes were still damp with the old tears, but I felt a lot better. I chuckled and wiped my eyes, looking at him finding amusement in me.

"Be nice," I said. I didn't really feel that bad since I knew it was true. "I know it's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic," He calmed down some, crossing his arms and looking at me, still smiling, "I think it's sweet."

"Great," I nod, beginning to be sarcastic, "You think it's sweet to be touch starved and pathetic. That's cool, I guess."

"I said it's not pathetic," he turned towards me, placing one hand on the counter. The stance made my breath hitch for a moment. Looking at his fingertips on the counter then letting my gaze travel up his arm. It was stupid how it made my heartbeat faster. Then, I make eye contact with him. I think nothing of it until I notice the side of his mouth turn upwards.

I feel a little embarrassed that I'd been so obvious.

"You're cute checking me out, you know?" He says a little louder, making any smile I had hidden that much more apparent. My cheeks burned heavily and I forced my eyes back to the floor.

"I'll tell you what?" he starts. "If there's anything else you want to do while we're here for the next four days, then I want you to be in charge of them."

I thought about it for a moment, then tilted my head, "Be in charge of them?"

"Take charge," he says with a slight determined nod, "If there's something you want from me, get it. Say it. Do it."

I began to feel excited over his words, but also very anxious. "You want me to make all the first moves?"

He nodded. "I'm not going to make a single move first. I understand your thoughts a little better now, sweetheart. I know you have the confidence to do something if you wanted to."

I didn't really like the idea of every move from here on being my call. He had a lot of faith in me. As long as I'd known myself, I let myself believe that I had the confidence of a piece of seaweed.

"So... you're not gonna kiss me or anything unless I do it first?" I ask tentatively.

He began to smile. "Essentially, yeah."

I pry my brain for any move that I could try to do that wouldn't end with me dying in embarrassment. Maybe if I said something crazy enough, I wouldn't have to pull any glamorous first move at all. My mind began spinning with a mischievous new idea.

"Does the first move have to be physical?" I questioned slyly.

He seemed curious. "How can the first move not be physical?"

"For example," I got myself off the edge of the counter and began coming towards him. I waited until I was only a few steps away. He straightened himself up, and I saw a fierce playfulness in his eyes as he let me strut until I'm nearly chest to chest with him. His hands remained on the counter behind him, but his body leaned towards me a little. Very quickly I realized, maybe I had more confidence than I thought because the next words out of my mouth were some of the dirtiest I'd ever said. "What if I told you that I want you to take off all my clothes and turn me around and fuck me right against this kitchen counter?"

I saw his breath hitch and he licked his lips, looking down at me. The tension between us now was killer. I watched his eyes darken, searching mine.

"Or if I told you to take a seat on the couch and that you weren't allowed to touch me as I rode you?" I added, images coming to mind of literally any situation. What I was saying was clearly bugging him as he shifted and swallowed hard. "Or, what if I told you I wanted you to screw me in front of a mirror so I could watch you do it to me?"

He seemed to be breathing very deeply. Ryan's eyes stared down into mine, almost as a warning as I was playing a very, very dangerous game. Our lips were so close. His eyes were half lidded, his breath fanning across my lips, them parting as I let myself get so close to him.

I found myself smirking deviously at him as I backed away. I watched his eyes widen and he leaned forward to follow me, stopping at a few inches. I walked backwards, returning to my original space next to my cocoa. I dropped the seductive tone, speaking normally, but still quietly. "Things like that. What would happen then?"

"What do you mean?" His voice was lower and quieter than it was before.

I propped myself up on the counter, continuing to make my cocoa mix as the milk I put in the microwave finished heating a little while ago. "I'm just saying, I can insinuate things all I want, and if we're playing by your rules, you can't do them to me unless I kiss or touch you first."

There was a hit of silence, then a small chuckle from him. I turned my head, expressing a knowing look. In the light coming in from the living room, I can see his cheeks are bright pink and I spot another obvious problem poking from his sweatpants.

"Problem?" I asked, being an ass on purpose.

His eyes flashed by mine, the amusement slowly fading away. "What if I told you this isn't how we are going to play?"

I still measure out my cocoa, my heart secretly racing but praying my face doesn't show it. My plan might work wonders after all. "And... what do you mean?"

"We've been here for only three days, and I'm sure you would just love to rub it in that I can't handle myself around you," he says in a lower tone, his fingers barely grazing the counter as he begins walking towards me. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, coming closer and closer. "So... you know how long I can last," he says, making my fingers go numb and I set the cocoa back down beside me. He was now standing in front of me, trapping my body between him and the counter with both his hands. The temptation to spread my legs so he could be even closer was almost killing me. "But my question is, sweetheart," he whispered, leaning in close by my ear, making a heat pool between my legs again. "How long can you?"

My lips parted and I watched him as he hovered in front of me. I pressed my thighs together and shifted only a little, but it made him smirk.

"I would love to rip those clothes off you and flip you around, leaving you nothing but the counter to grip onto as I fuck you," he murmured, giving me heavy eye contact. The heat between my legs got worse, and I tried my best to think of other things. "I would love to sit down on that couch in the living room with you on top of me. However, there's no way in hell you're getting me not to touch you."

I swallowed hard, cheeks and neck burning.

"And I would love to fuck you in front of a mirror, you sitting on my lap, legs spread, eyes glazed over as I make you come again and again," he mumbled. I nearly let out a small gasp when his lips accidentally brushed against mine when he spoke. "And the pretty sounds you would make, watching me fuck you with my fingers. Your words begging me for more."

I couldn't help but imagine everything he had said. My heart now was begging me for some relief again. Even though I knew my body was tired from before, I wanted more.

No, I needed more.

He was now enjoying watching me internally struggle. I wanted him so bad, but I didn't want to lose. We both didn't want to lose. We were fighting each other. But what was really going to be lost?

As soon as our lips brushed again, my brain was spinning, but I forced myself to lean back. He still hasn't touched me. My fists were clenched and my legs were shut, but he still stood in front of me, hands on either side of my hips on the counter. He was waiting for me to lose it.

He opened his blue eyes and looked at me with lust.

"Ryan," I finally found my voice.

He whispered back my name, our eyes half lidded in anticipation.

He started slowly leaning towards me again, but I gathered every bit of strength and I had to back away. He looked at me now, patiently, almost as if he knew he was about to win.

The next words out of my mouth were the best I could come up with.

"Your water is done boiling for your tea," I mumble.

He blinks, making the slowest of movements to back away. He falters almost, looking as if he wants to forget about the game and just lean in and kiss me anyway.

Then, he takes a deep inhale, nodding a little bit. He pushes himself off the counter, his presence leaving my vicinity. I finally felt like I could breathe, but I was most definitely still hot and bothered. I felt for a moment that I couldn't unpress my thighs together. I watched him back up, seeing his length even clearer now in his pants. He was struggling just as much, if not more than me.

"Thank you," he manages to say.

When he turns his body, beginning to fix his tea, I slump down. I force myself off the counter, heart absolutely racing. Although I had done the same thing to him, what he just did to me felt like anarchy in comparison.

I wiped some sweat off my upper lip, going over to the microwave and getting my hot milk out. I needed a mug, which was in the cabinet above where he was now busying himself. I slowly came to his side, arms grazing one another as I lifted up on my tiptoes to get a mug. I feel his stance stiffen.

He had his mug in front of him, pouring hot water out of the kettle into it. I put the cocoa mix and sugar into the measuring cup, beginning to whisk it. We were completely silent. I didn't even want the hot chocolate anymore. I was craving something else. My brain couldn't stop thinking about it.

Especially with him beside me, his intoxicating scent. I stirred, longing to feel him and for him to feel me.

The silence between us was absolutely deafening. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, my breathing feeling like it wasn't mine. My legs stung and I chewed hard on my inner cheek. Holy shit, I really wanted him bad.

I find myself looking at his hands, watching him open the box of tea and grab a bag. I observed the tendons move in his arm as his fingers opened the small packet. When he dropped the little tea bag into his mug, his hands rested on the counter. I gulped when I suddenly realized I had slowly stopped whisking. Now, he was watching me.

But I couldn't move.

My brain lulled me into a certain state. I wanted to turn my head, lean into him and press my lips on his. I craved something yet again, beyond my control.

I slyly began to raise my gaze up his arm. When I'd reached his face, he was doing the exact same thing. We were indirectly searching for each other. A part of me felt as if it were on fire. He wanted me too. He really wanted me too.

Then, at the same exact moment, our hands came off the counter and on each other. I placed mine on the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to me and he gripped the edges of my sweatshirt, pulling me to his body.

Our lips clashed against one another. The sensation again twisted in my knees and made me weak. Explosions occurred in my chest, being released. We grabbed at each other, having forgotten about our hot beverages as he walked us backwards towards the kitchen island. The next thing I know, his hands come under the backs of my thighs, lifting me upwards and back onto the counter.

As he pressed himself against my heat, I could feel his erection rubbing up against me. I moan into his mouth as his thumb kneads me through my sweatpants. I leaned into his touch, grinding my hips in circles with him. But through the sensation, I remember the women's hygiene products I was wearing and gave a small frown in the kiss, my mind swirling. I wanted him so badly, but knew it wasn't going to be clean.

I forgot all about it.

I got a different idea, scooting myself further forward on the counter as his hands wrapped around me. I take one of my hands down his body, past his chest and his stomach, then down to his groin. He groaned into my mouth when I felt his length, rubbing.

I slid myself further off the counter, him catching me immediately and almost not giving me the room to hit the ground. His hands groped me in ways I wished would never stop.

But I knew if I was going to do what I was going to try to do, my nerves were building, and I would need him to stop touching me like this. I found my way in being dominant. I slipped my tongue from his mouth and tilted his face gently away from me, diving my lips to his neck. I kissed his stubble, working my way underneath his ear and down his neck. I briefly sucked on a spot, the small whimper that passed his lips right next to my ear giving me life as he squeezed my waist. Then, I slightly showed my teeth and gave a small bite. Nothing that would hurt.

He groaned now, his body pressing me harder into the counter. He chuckled and said, "God, I love it when you do that."

I smiled into his skin, still placing kisses and raising my hands underneath his shirt to feel his stomach and waist. His hands were simply wrapped around me, enjoying what I was doing to him. I raised my hands higher on his chest, breaking off the kiss to take off his shirt. He raised his arms and let me do so, and as soon as it was ditched to the ground, my lips were back on his neck, kissing downwards. I left hot open mouth kisses to his chest, past one of his nipples which made a small noise escape his throat, then began down his stomach. I had to press against him to get myself off the counter as I came lower and lower to my knees. When my lips kissed his stomach, I momentarily backed away to look up at him. I gazed at his beautiful eyes through my lashes, my fingers wrapping in the band of the elastic around his sweatpants.

I see him visibly gulp as he reaches down and brushes some of my hair back behind my ear. "Are... Are you sure you want to?"

I lick my lips and nod, only pulling down his sweatpants, leaving me to look at the large print in his underwear. "I'd like to try."

"Okay," he sighed, eyes rolling shut as he felt my breath on him. "Holy shit."

As I observe him, I reach a hand out and begin rubbing him through his underwear, making his hips twitch towards me. I gather an idea and I slow my motions down, and he looked almost painstakingly back down at me, begging me to do more with his eyes.

"Tell me, darling," I cooed, continuing to rub him, the words he said to me earlier forever printed in my mind. "What do you like?"

He smiles suddenly, his other hand running through my hair to take hold of it. "Oh, so this is how this is going to be?"

I smirk, teasing the elastic of his underwear. "Tell me what you like, honey."

I visibly see him twitch when I call him that, making me grin wider. His fingers are massaging my scalp as I continue to rub him. As I gaze up at him, a sigh passes his lips. I'm patiently waiting for him to answer.

"I..." He dampens his lips, "I'll tell you what to do. Just be gentle with your teeth, alright?"

I feel myself salivating, nerves growing but confidence forcing to be built. I began to tug his underwear down, the words imprinted in my mind that drove me almost crazy when he said them to me.

"I'll see what I can do to you," I say in a lower tone, giving him a testing gaze up.

His lips part into a mischievous smile, dark eyes watching me bring his underwear to the floor. I bring more saliva towards the front of my mouth, trying to be strategic and smart about this. I gently took his length around my hand and guided it towards my mouth, giving a testing lick to the tip with my tongue. He mewled to my touch as I opened wider and began to very slightly suck, being careful with my teeth just like he asked me to.

His fingertips pressed onto my scalp, taking fistfuls of my hair and groaning rather loudly. "Fuck."

I took him out of my mouth and began licking down his shaft, placing several kisses as I went, rubbing him with my hand. I gazed up at him, watching with a hint of confidence in seeing that he took a hand off of me to place it on the counter behind me. Ryan was leaning, looking down at me with his eyebrows furrowed. I remember exactly what he looked like when he came earlier that night. I wanted him to look like that again. I wrap my lips around him again, beginning to suck him deeper into my mouth and almost to the back of my throat.

His eyes lazily blinked and looked upward as I saw his chest heave with a moan. His grip on my hair became ever so tighter as he began to guide my head closer to him. His voice was hoarse, "Just like that, beautiful."

I love the praise he gives me, rubbing my hand on the amount I can't fit in my mouth and continuing to suck on him. When I need some air, I pull away and he lets me. I rub the spit I left near his tip further down his length, looking up at his reaction.

I spot his hips twitch and his breath hitches for a moment. He is gazing down at me with his lips parted, and they tilt upwards with a smile as he chuckles, "Fuck, honey, you're going to make me come if you keep looking up at me like that."

I find a smile stretching on my lips as I blink innocently up at him, still rubbing his cock at a more vigorous rate. He twitched into me again, whimpering as he regripped the edge of the counter.

"Good," I purr, placing more hot kisses down his shaft that makes him groan, "I want to see you come for me."

Just when I was about to put him back in my mouth, I screeched instead when his hands were placed on my shoulders and he pulled me to my feet. The noise that escapes me is muffled by his lips. I moan a little when his tongue is in my mouth. It feels so empowering what we're doing. I'm completely clothed and he's completely naked. I felt like for two seconds, I had the upper hand.

I did wonder, however, why he brought me up? My hand traveled to his stiff cock as I was going to continue to rub him, but he twitched and his hand was wrapped around my wrist to stop me.

He breaks away from the kiss, and I open my eyes with perplexity. Had I done something wrong?

"I don't want to come just yet," Ryan says against my lips, taking my breath away as he steps away from me, curling my hand in his.

He was whisking me away out of the kitchen and back down the familiar hallway.

"What are we doing?" I ask, finding my voice slightly graveled.

He begins leading me back to his room, briefly stopping by the hall closet to grab a fresh towel. Needless to say, it made me a little nervous that he was grabbing a towel. But those nerves prickled excitement onto my skin. Were we going to make a mess?

"I can't stop thinking about you and the mirror," he admits, taking us into his room. When he lets go of my hand tenderly, he lays out the towel on the base of the bed, turning swiftly to begin dragging the full length mirror out from the corner of the room. I hadn't even noticed the damn thing, and it made me blush heavily.

"Can we do this?" Ryan comes back towards me, taking my hands in his. Then his fingers trace my jaw as he leans down and presses a kiss to my lips. "I know you're still probably bleeding. That's what the towel is for."

It all clicks for me now.

I press my lips briefly against his as well, pulling up the bottom of my sweatshirt and shirt all in one go. Ryan smiled and bit his bottom lip, taking me by the bare waist backwards towards the bed. As I brought my thumbs into my sweatpants, he stopped me. He took a seat on the towel, hands on my hips to turn me away from him. I was now looking at myself in the mirror, watching his hands on my hips. That same fuzzy feeling I got in the bathroom came back. I was completely soaked and excited again at the possibilities.

"Watch me," he whispers, ever so slowly beginning to pull my sweats down. I observe my naked body as I step out of my sweatpants and underwear. His hands traced up the outsides of my thighs, then wrapped around my hips to pull me back towards him.

His legs were spread, and I could feel his hard length pressing against my back. I gave a small sigh and leaned my head briefly back on his shoulder. I turned my head to try and kiss him, however, he just smirked and one of his hands turned my head back forward.

"Eyes on the mirror, sweetheart," he cooed, placing a hot kiss on my neck. My eyes almost drifted shut, but I watched him. One hand rested flat against my stomach, the other came to my knee, pulling me up and spreading my legs wide open for me to see myself.

I watched his hands all over me, lips attached to my neck and shoulder. I find my first low moan when his right hand begins traveling downward past my mound and his middle and ring finger begin to slowly rub my clit. I reach up behind me and put my hand in his hair, resting my head back more as he rubs me in slow deep circles.

"That's my girl," he purred, the praise making me whine a little. "Such a good girl. Watch yourself come undone for me."

I tug on a section of his hair and I feel his body slightly shift behind mine. His fingers trail down my clit and towards my wetness. As he feels me, he hums into my shoulder, placing hot, open mouthed kisses. Then suddenly, I watch his middle and ring finger dip inside me, making me gasp and shudder. I can see in the mirror that he's rather proud of himself, a smirk tugging on his lips.

I blink so slowly, watching in our reflection as his fingers sink into me. I bring my bottom lip between my teeth, leaning my temple against his own with a fistful of his hair. The sensation was already making me feel so much pleasure. His digits began moving faster, his other hand moving up my stomach over my breast, squeezing. I breathe out a moan, making eye contact with him in the mirror that made me squirm.

"Does that feel so good, honey?" he says quietly, his tone low. My thighs twitch and I can feel an orgasm coming in at the base of my stomach. My core burned for it, and his fingers curled ever so slightly and hit the perfect spot.

I couldn't even say anything, I was so pathetic. I was about to roll my head back onto his shoulder, but then his other hand slipped down my stomach and began to rub my clit at the same time. I let out a whine as my body reacts. Holy shit, it felt so good.

Ryan's lips were on my neck, kissing upward towards my ear. His hot breath in my ear turned me on even more.

"I want to hear those pretty sounds, sweetheart," he spoke into my ear, his voice sending a vibration of feelings down my spine. "Let me hear those pretty sounds as you come."

I grinded my hips into his hand, feeling as if I wasn't able to take much more. Small sounds escaped my lips as I focused on the burning hot sensation splaying across my stomach. This was intense. My eyes flashed in the mirror once more, watching his hands perform their magic. I moaned watching his wonderful fingers dip inside of me and pull back out wet with my juices.

"Oh my God," I say with clenched teeth, rolling my head and arching my back when I can feel it all wash over me.

"There's my girl," Ryan cooed into my ear, coaxing me into my orgasm. I cried out, holding on tightly to his hair and a fistful of the sheets by our thighs as my orgasm rolled over my body. My legs twitched heavily, my whole body shuddering into his touch.

When my orgasm rushed over, he slowed his movements, taking his fingers out of me. I turned immediately, capturing his lips in a messy, desperate kiss. He moaned into my mouth, arms wrapping around me as I moved to straddle him. My fingernails dug into his shoulders and I slipped my tongue into his mouth. I don't know where this domineering side of me was coming from, but he seemed to be enjoying it. One of my hands moved down his chest and past his stomach where I took his cock and started stroking him. He groaned louder, kissing me harder.

Feeling the burning continue between my legs and I know I need more.

I stop stroking him to place my hands on his chest, pushing the both of us back towards the bed. A small sound passed his lips when we landed and his hands fell to my hips. I wanted more than anything to ride him right now. I could do it. I think about moving my legs upward and scooting myself into position, but I break the kiss.

Ryan has bruised lips, his eyes fluttering open and deep breaths passing through his lungs.

"Everything alright?" he whispers out of breath.

My eyes flick towards the bedside table. "You have another condom in there, right?"

He lets out a small breath of relief, a smile forming on his lips. "Yeah."

A certain pressure he put on my hips was to try and move me off, but I kept myself grounded. I push gently down on his chest, placing him back on the mattress. His eyes flash mine, but I lean down and place a kiss on the end of his nose.

"Don't you move," I whisper, staring lovingly into his slate blue eyes.

He’s looking back at me the same way.. His hands come off my hips as he lets me roll off towards the side of the bed. My legs are still a little shaky, but I make it alright. I feel around in the drawer and feel the packet, taking it and ripping it open. I'm eager for him.

As I come back over, I steal a pillow from the top of the bed. I find my feet wandering back towards him, excited, and straddle his thighs, I let myself hover back over him like I was before, taking the pillow in my opposite hand. He takes the condom from my hand, and while he puts it on, I bring that hand reaching around the back of his head. I lift it, remembering the nice gesture he did for me. I prop the pillow under his head, and he makes eye contact as I do so.

There's a small moment between us. I suddenly almost feel a little self conscious. He's looking right at me. He's looking at me like he's never looked at me before.

I find a heavy blush forming on my cheeks as I slip my hand out carefully behind his head, letting him rest fully on the pillow. His hair is soft and clean beneath my touch. My lips part, and my voice is quiet. "Better?"

He's still looking at me, a certain perplexity behind his gaze. His hands were barely on my waist, a feather-like touch as if he hadn't completely destroyed me with those fingers two minutes ago.

"Yeah," he muttered, fingers tracing my temple to brush some of my hair behind my ear. "Thank you."

As his thumb trailed my cheek, I smiled gently at him. I rebalanced myself and my arms, scooting myself up a little. "Are we ready?"

Ryan's lips turn upward as he nods, guiding me down to kiss me. As our lips meet, I can feel a heavy sense of passion. Our pace changed dramatically. Once quick and desperate was now sensual and loving. He touched me so carefully. His lips were tentative and polite, yet still kissing me deeply.

I hovered my hips over his, reaching down to guide him towards my entrance. I was only a little nervous this time, but also really excited. Pressing down onto him was much less painful this time. I still took my careful time making it to connect our hips. He didn't take me or press me down into him to make it faster; he let me take my time. His hand ran down the length of my spine. I pressed my chest to his, our lips continuing to crash at a slow steady pace. Ryan's other hand stayed buried in my hair by the base of my neck, keeping me close to him.

Once I'd begun rolling my hips with his, I could feel my body responding and a sound fell past my lips and into his mouth. I ran my hand down his chest slightly as I rode him, feeling the few chest hairs he had. He gave a small groan into my mouth as I grinded down onto him completely. The hand he was being so cautious with gave my hip an encouraging squeeze.

Just as I began to caress his face, feeling warmth beginning to pool inside me at the sensation, I'm surprised when his arms wrapped themselves around me and he flipped us over. With my legs completely spread, the both of us still connected, he then pushes us over to the same spot and my hair splays on the pillow behind my head. His lips never left mine. Not once.

I feel myself in some pure form of ecstacy. His hands find both of mine and suddenly, they're being held on either side of my head. I moan and my heart flips. His chest is pressed against mine, hips locking with me. I wrap my legs around his waist, helping him hit a deeper angle that sends me into a moaning mess. There's something about this position that is driving me absolutely insane for him. His scent, his taste. The way his fingers were laced with mine, squeezing my hands. The way his lips were locked to my mouth. The way he rocked his hips with mine at a slow and deep pace.

I squeezed his hands back, catching my breath when he broke the kiss. Our breaths mix and we breathe together. My eyes drift open, feeling his hair graze my forehead. Ryan's looking right at me. He's looking at me like I'm the only damn thing in the world. I try to fight off my orgasm, wanting this moment to last. I know he can feel me clench around him, tensing to pull him in. As we are staring into each other's eyes, lips parted and swollen, he slightly increases his thrusts. We both moan out, and I feel my eyes roll back in my head as I try to focus on not orgasming. But it's becoming impossible.

His hands squeezed mine again and he placed another kiss on my lips. "Come with me," he whispers.

And suddenly, I do.

His words toss around in my brain and send me over the edge. I tighten my legs around him, squeezing his hands as I moan out his name. He grunts and his thrusts grow sloppy. I watch as that same intensity of his eyebrows returns. I watch him grit his teeth, a shaky groan escaping them. A sound reverberated out of my throat and my body continued to converge around him. I'm completely trembling, but with him holding me like this, it didn’t matter.

His thrusts slow down, and we're both breathing hard.

His motions come to a gradual stop, and he leans down and places his glistening forehead against mine. One of his hands unlaces from my fingers, running down my forearm before placing itself on my jaw. His thumb was tracing my cheek as he looked into my eyes. With my hand finally free, I let my fingertips graze his strong arm. He hovered closer to me and placed an endearing kiss on my lips.

The mood had totally changed in the atmosphere of the room.

He gently broke the kiss and got up a little, enough for me to press my leg against my own body so he could lie beside me. And that's exactly what he did. I let myself curl into his arms as we caught our breaths.

My mind swirled and spun. That was absolutely incredible.

"Are you okay?" he mumbled, brushing some of my strands over my shoulder. His touch almost made my eyes drift shut.

"More than," I responded in the same fashion, turning my head to smile at him almost lazily. "You?"

"Yeah," he whispers, the same sort of smile on his face. His hand raises and caresses my hair, my cheek. "Yeah, I'm great."

My eyes gently shut for a moment, feeling his touch. I tilt my head towards his warm skin, giving a small contentful sigh. My hands were curled in towards myself, fingers barely touching the skin of his chest. His palm travels down the side of my head, past my shoulder, my arm. Then, on my waist.

My eyes flutter open and I look right at him. His eyes were already on me, glancing over my face over and over again. I feel an odd massive amount of affection for him. It waved over my body and my heart and mind.

I can feel his thumb moving on my waist, waving circles of fire onto my skin. He leaned over slightly and placed a kiss between my eyebrows.

Ryan then rested his forehead on mine. "How about we wash up real quick and get some sleep, hm?"

I smile and nod, "That sounds perfect."

"Okay," he grins, giving my cheek one more graze with his thumb before he gets up. I follow him, mimicking his movements to pick up my clothing that was discarded around the room. I slipped only my underwear on, holding my sweatpants and shirt in my hand. He begins moving towards his bathroom, and I hover.

"I'm going to go to the one in the hall," I announced quietly, making him turn.

"Alright," He gives me a solid nod, his eyes dancing over my face. "Hurry back."

I feel almost relieved. So he wanted me to come back. I let out a chuckle and said, "Of course."

"And while you're out there," he says, making me pause in my step towards the exit, "mind grabbing my clothes from the kitchen?"

I feel my cheeks heat up. "Yeah, sure."

"Thank you," he beams at me, taking a few more steps into his bathroom.

I let out a small breath, doing what felt like a more exciting version of the walk of shame to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up, observing the old and some of the new marks on my neck with a smile. He was right, this was really, really fun.

After brushing my teeth, I decided to be bold and keep my sweats off, but my shirt was on. I tossed them onto my bed as I walked out to the kitchen to get his clothes. I found his shirt first that I mindlessly tossed away, then his sweats and underwear lumped together on the floor. I felt proud of myself for trying what I did. And it seemed as if I did it well for him.

I shyly paced back into the bedroom, finding him by the bedside, peeling the covers that we messed up twice back up to the top. The mirror was back in its respected corner and the towel was gone. I can also see in the dark that he was wearing a new pair of underwear. I set his clothes on top of the dresser and came around to the other side of the bed.

We both slipped into the sheets and he made the move of coming to the middle of the mattress and reaching out for me. I let myself scoot towards his chest as I laid a head in the crook of his shoulder. His skin is warm, and I sigh, feeling relaxed and unstressed.

His arms wrap around me and he lets out a little sigh too. "You're beautiful."

I tilt my head up to look at him. My fingers are curled on his chest, and I smile a little as I feel the stretch of slightly hairy skin with the backs of my fingers. I lean up the little way left and place a tired but chaste kiss on his lips. I can feel his lips turn upwards as I pull away from the kiss. I rest my head back down on his shoulder, still gazing up at him like a thousand suns.

"Thank you..." I whisper, "Thank you for everything tonight."

He's smiling down at me, eyes glistening with happiness, but also exhaustion. "No need to thank me, sweetheart. Thank you."

I chuckle, curling into him more. It wasn't much longer before I couldn't help but close my eyes. It wasn’t much longer before we both couldn’t help but close our eyes and drift off into deep sleep.

#ryan tedder #ryantedder #ryanteddersmut #ryantedderimagine #ryan tedder imagine #ryan tedder imagines #imagine #imagines #smut #lemon #ryan tedder x reader insert #ryan tedder x reader #onerepublic #honey

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angels-heap · 4 years

Text

*long sigh*

As I wake up to yet another wave of nonsense Half Life shipping discourse, I find myself deeply regretting that I started writing for Freehoun when I did. I was really excited about finishing my current WIP, and I know lots of people are excited to keep reading it, but it’s so hard to find the motivation to keep writing something that is, at best, going to entertain a bunch of people who have been sending me anti-Freemance hate mail, and at worst will be used as an argument to illustrate why Freehoun is “better.”

I might finish chapter 3 this weekend, but I probably won’t. And I might publish it on AO3, but I probably won’t. If you see this and you’d like me to share it via some other format if I can’t bring myself to post it, message me. Clowns who think Freemance is “pedophilia” need not apply.

#K talks #I debated putting this in the freehoun tag so readers will see it #but I feel like that’ll only ensure that they do stupid shit with it #I’m just so done #and tired of seeing people throw freemance under the bus for freehoun #they’re not mutually exclusive!#they’re both good!#they both have slightly weird age gaps technically #so why does only one get branded problematic?#ship discourse

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twdgs · 2 years

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Do you have any headcannons for james? :oo like his backstory or his home life or his dynamic with Jesse?

YES ok scooch over we’re sitting on a bench right now

the thing about him is that his backstory has a lot of holes in it, because theres a considerable gap in context from the point where he ran away from home, joined poketech and whatever happened during and after the bike gang so like.

when he ran away since its ambiguous in the show, say for whatever sense of realism we have here, that he was around 12 or so. ended up in a small kanto town and spent about two years finding whatever he could to survive, laying low and making common with the ppl in the town and stuff. he was technically too young to get a job but he got some money through favors and stuff like that, ended up going to poketech through connections with families of the school superiors

(idk what poketech is technically supposed to be because it makes no sense with how its explained in the show, so for the sake of this . lets say its a slightly pretentious normal high school sorta place HEGAH)

ages 14 to 17 were spent in poketech, and he met jessie there. in detention 💔.

they were actually pretty wary of eachother for a while and didnt talk before that because they’re both outcasts in opposite directions and stuff yknow.

they had both gotten in trouble for something mundane probably idk, i imagine the rules at poketech were pretty strict. they ended up talking for a little, bonding over whatever landed them there in the first place. its canon that they were very good friends through the rest of their time there, they both kinda figured themselves out in terms of like identity and stuff through poketech and the bike gang, and by the time they got kicked out they were basically inseparable.

bike gang was weird and they kinda got split apart because of separate issues in their lives, and ended up having a huge argument of some sorts. every story thing after that is explored in the show so yeah! rocket training meeting meowth and yadda yadda

basically like jessie and james together are so weird and nobody except meowth really understands it, they fight like they hate eachother but not really because every time the trio sleep they all end up in a pile, they’re in the outward seeming limbo of best friends and eachothers first on their Most Annoying Person On Planet Earth list.

they don’t usually have to talk in full sentences or even at all to fully understand one another, they do it with meowth too. they have full conversations just by looks sometimes

and stuff like when james is up too late hyperfixated on something or whatever jessie usually pressures him into sleeping. they’re both pretty awkward with affection so it shows in ways like that, relieving of emotional stress such as taking on jobs the other cant deal with for the day, making plans around all the team to rest if they’re sick, stuff like that.

james’s dynamic with jessie is complicated, he appreciates her a lot as a friend and understands her mood swings and aggressive energy better than mostly everybody else on earth, shes the only person who can actually get on his nerves, basically they hate eachother they’re best friends they’re gay married they’re divorced they’re in financial debt they have ten thousand dollars on their arrests combined. lol

#ask #long post #SORRY ABT THE WORD WALL…

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twdbegins · 4 years

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Can I get some age gap Simon smut, like shes want him super rough with her but he think she wont be able to handle, but she takes all that he give her and more, please and thank you, if you can

I KNEW THE DAY WOULD COME WHERE SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS. AMAZING.

Rough Encounters

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut.

Word Count: 3,003

“Make no mistake, I’ve seen plenty.”

“You’re staring at him again.” Arat said plainly, not looking up from her knife in her hand.

She dragged the blade of her knife along the stick she had picked up, peeling away at the skin on the dead branch. You were leaning against one of the outside walls of the Sanctuary, shifting back and forth on your feet to keep warm. You and Arat were on fence duty, one of the most dull jobs on the planet. You were both trying to entertain yourselves with whatever you had on hand, since nothing really ever happened when you were on a fence shift.

Fence duty was always worse during the winter, because it was always freezing which made standing around watching chained up walkers even more miserable. However, with the dirty thoughts that were running through your mind, you were surprised you weren’t blazing warm.

“Do you think he’s any good in bed?” You asked, not looking away from the man from across the way that you were looking at.

Arat stopped slicing the stick and made a face of annoyed disgust.

“Oh my God. Not this again.” She groaned, recalling the last time you had brought this up.

You laughed at her reaction, removing your gaze from Simon. It was true, and even you wouldn’t deny it, you had the hots for the right-hand man. You had never been drawn to anyone like him before. He was tall, fit, strong, and very charismatic. Not to mention, he was at least 15 years older than you. You weren’t completely sure of his age, but you knew he had to be at least in his mid-thirties. You always ballparked him to be somewhere between 36 and 42, but it really made no difference to you.

“It’s a fair question.” You defended yourself.

She cocked her head at you, leaning forward on the makeshift bucket she was sitting.

“No, no, no. It is NOT a fair question, nor a conversation I want to have,” She scowled, tossing the stick aside; “You don’t have to see him everyday. I don’t want to think of your weird obsession with him every time we’re in a room together.”

“I’m not obsessed. I just want to fuck him.” You said very bluntly.

Arat let out a shriek and brought her hands to cover her ears.

“You damn kids and your high sex drives. My God...do you ever think before you bestow your dirty thoughts onto innocent bystanders?” She questioned, her eyes dead set on her feet.

You threw your hands out in mockery, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Arat, I’m closer to your age than his.” You pointed out.

She nodded furiously.

“Exactly! Which is why you shouldn’t want to bang him.” She argued.

You snorted.

“We’ve talked about sex a million times. Why does me and him bother you?” You queried, a devious smirk appearing on your face; “Do you know something I don’t know?”

Arat slowly turned her head to look at you. She removed her hands from her ears, staring at you blankly as if she were trying to process what you were insinuating.

“Oh, no you don’t! You do not get to make that joke. I have never, I repeat, NEVER had sex with him,” She shrilled; “Never have, never will.”

You laughed out loud, almost doubling over at her urgency.

“I’m the youngest Savior here. No one is that close to my age anyways,” You told her; “But I mean, come on. Have you SEEN him? Those thighs? Those arms?”

She hissed in disapproval, desperately wanting to end this conversation. She leapt up from where she sat, rubbing her frigid hands together.

“Absolutely not. Listen, if you want to get freaky in the sheets with him, then go ahead. If I had a body like yours then I’d put it to good use. Just don’t damage my image of him further,” She instructed; “By the way, it looks like you might’ve gotten his attention.”

You casually glanced over your shoulder to see Simon looking at you with his dark brown eyes. You gave him a flashy grin, which prompted him to make his way over to you. You and Arat still had another hour on fence duty, but she was not going to stick around for this.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” She announced, scuttling away before she had to witness the possibly sinful things about to come out of your mouth.

Simon swaggered over to you, your breath getting caught in your throat. Oddly enough, you had developed a friendship with Simon over the last year. You enjoyed his company, much more than just ogling over him all the time.

“Hi, Simon.” You greeted nicely.

“[Y/N],” He acknowledged you with a grin; “Looks like you lost your partner there.” He said, referring to Arat’s leave.

You shrugged.

“She was cold. I told her I could handle things out here,” You lied; “Mind taking her place?”

His grin morphed into more of a smirk, taking the adjacent spot next to you on the wall. His shoulder just barely touched yours, a flush of heat washing over you. You had to keep it together.

“Since when does Negan put you on fence duty?” You wondered aloud.

Simon rarely ever took a shift to watch the fences, considering that Negan wanted his services elsewhere. You were shocked that he was out here.

“Mark’s sick. I had to cover for him.” He claimed.

“You sure he’s not with Amber?” You chimed.

Simon’s brows raised slightly. Everyone, except Negan, knew that Amber was still sneaking around with Mark even though she was technically Negan’s wife. You had seen Simon cover for Mark before, so you knew this was no different.

“How’d you know?” He asked.

“Amber and I are close. She told me.”

Amber was one of Negan’s younger wives, but she still managed a relationship with Mark. You always hoped that Negan would never find out. More for Mark’s sake than Amber’s.

“We make sacrifices sometimes.” He said dryly, not really wanting to discuss how he had gone behind Negan’s back.

You nodded, but a sneaky smile appeared on your face.

“You know, Amber tells me a lot about Mark.” You began.

Simon was intrigued to see where you were going with this.

“Oh, yeah?” He prompted.

You nonchalantly picked at the chipped fingernail polish on your nails, as if you weren’t really aware of what you were saying.

“Yep. I never would’ve taken Mark to be much of a rough lover if Amber hadn’t told me all about it.” You spoke.

Simon stiffened a little. Neither of you had ever really talked about sex. You had mentioned previous partners and things like that, but nothing like this. You noticed his eyes were not on your face. You were wearing shorts, despite the cold weather. His eyes raked over your legs...your hips...your waist. You gave a sultry laugh. You knew he looked at you the same way you did him.

“You act like you’ve never seen a woman before.” You said suddenly.

His eyes flickered back to yours, feeling his nerves become a little more sensitive at the way your eyelashes fluttered. He chuckled lowly.

“Make no mistake, I’ve seen plenty.” He replied.

You weren’t shocked at that. You had a gut feeling that Simon knew his way around a woman. Still, you faked a stunned look.

“Have you? Hmm...” You hummed thoughtfully.

He raised a brow, turning to you.

“Don’t believe me?” He prodded.

You gave a slight shrug. You knew you could get him riled up enough for him to cave, but he wouldn’t make it easy.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He had to admit, he was shocked that you were hitting on him in such a bold way. He always assumed you’d go for Negan over him. He was thrilled, but he wasn’t going to show it.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.” He chaffed.

You pushed your shoulders back a little to stand up a little straighter, but not moving from your casual position against the wall. His voice had lowered an octave or two, which was a little maddening.

“Oh, I think I do.” You returned with the same confident tone.

He laughed incredulously, his eyes darting around before settling back on you.

“How old are you?” He questioned.

He knew you were the youngest person at the Sanctuary, so the fact that this encounter was even happening was boggling his head a little bit. You raised a brow and lowered it. You had a feeling this was going to come up.

“22.” You answered.

He let out a low whistle. It had been a long time since he had fucked anyone that young. The last time he had gotten with a 22 year old was when he was that age. Needless to say, he had a couple decades of experience under his belt by this point.

“So you’re young and eager, huh?” He chided.

You scoffed, a bit offended at his words.

“You underestimate me.” You spoke.

He hummed.

“I don’t play nice. I play rough,” He purred; “You think you can handle that?”

He didn’t think you could. He was seriously doubtful that you’d make it past the foreplay without tapping out. You stood from the wall, standing so close that the tips of your shoes touched his.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” You suggested playfully.

He stared at you for another moment before crashing his lips roughly to yours. He brought his hand up and grabbed a fistful of your hair. He backed you into the inside of the Sanctuary, pushing you up against the nearest wall. His hand was still in your hair, yanking your head back and sucking hard on your neck. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but enough to surely get your attention and send waves of pleasure through you. He growled low in his throat and continued to nip at your neck.

“I can have my way with you,” He announced, his voice muffled in the skin of your neck; “I can make a hell of a lot prettier noises come out of you too.”

“I want to see you try.” You tried to say confidently, but it came out more of a desperate whine.

You let out a surprised gasp when he suddenly kissed you again, nothing short of rough and hot. You let out a hum, and he pulled back and looked at you with so much lust that you felt a shiver travel down your spine. His hands were tight and firm on your waist, keeping you completely pressed against him. His pupils were blown twice their usual size.

He pulled you from the wall, not letting your lips leave his. Normally, he’d at least make it to his bedroom, but he wanted to see just how risky you wanted to get. He navigated you into the stairwell, somewhere that was somewhat public, but isolated too.

“You scared Negan’s gonna find us?” You questioned with a sneer.

He stared at you in disbelief. He had to admit, you were holding up better than he thought. He pressed his back against the wall, getting right into it.

“Get on your knees.” He commanded.

He was being intimidating, but it was only more thrilling for you. You smirked as you slowly sank to the floor, your knees hitting the concrete. You looked away for a split second to get situated, but his hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Eyes on me.” He said, looking down at you.

You looked up at him, eyes shining with desire and expectation. His gaze studied your every move and expression. You went to quickly put your hair up, but he stopped you.

“Don’t touch your hair.” He said, holding it up himself.

You ran your hands over his hips, trailing to his pants. You unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He sprung forth in front of you, and he moved one hand to the top of your head. You eyed his tip for a millisecond, so quickly that he didn’t even notice your break of eye contact. You left a kiss on his tip, earning a groan from him.

You put your mouth over his length, suddenly gagging when he shoved your head further into his crotch. He pulled out.

“You better take it.” He said, shoving back into your mouth again.

You were prepared this time, swallowing around him and working through the reflex. You sucked and kissed, a moan escaping from the man above you. His grip was unchanged on your head, but his fingers were stroking gently. His words came out a bit mumbled as he continued to slam back into your mouth.

“Shit...you’ve done this before.” He muttered.

You hummed in affirmation, grinning around him. His hand in your hair pulled your head back and he rocked his hips roughly into your mouth. Then pulled back and rocked into you over and over. You sucked and ran your tongue along his shaft, kissing each time you made your way back to the tip. He was fighting the urge to praise you, but it slipped out. You felt THAT good around him.

“Such a good girl…” He breathed; “You’re so pretty on your knees for me.”

You stopped sucking for a second, offering a praise of your own.

“I have to say, you’re bigger than I thought.” You said, taking him back into your mouth.

He rolled his hips into you again in response, you almost giggled at the way his eyes rolled back into his head. He thrusted a few more times before removing himself from your mouth, watching you swallow his pre-ejaculation. You noticed the fire in his eyes had returned.

He pulled you from the floor forcefully, snatching the zipper down on your shorts. He stopped cold when he realized you hadn’t been wearing anything underneath it the entire night. You fought the urge to grin at his face. His eyes raked over you, he was hungry for you.

“Seems I’ve forgotten something. It slipped my mind, I suppose.” You grinned.

His expression was dead serious, as he pulled you to his half-naked body. You began to unbutton his shirt, whipping it off of him in a flash. He removed your shirt and bra, taking one of your hard nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your soft flesh, you held back a high-pitched moan. Which made Simon stop.

“You scared Negan’s gonna hear you?” He mocked; “I want to hear you.”

He took your other nipple into his mouth as you let out a loud groan. He gripped one of your shoulders, spinning you to where you were against the wall. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around him. He licked his fingers, quickly lubricating you. He was moving so fast and so precisely that you knew one thing for sure.

He wasn’t going to go easy on you.

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs to hold you steady. He lined himself up and pressed into you finally. Your heart fluttered at the feeling you had been craving for so long now. He pulled out almost completely and slammed hard back into you. He didn’t even wait for you to get adjusted to his size, but it didn’t take you long. You raised one of your arms above your head, pressing your palm into the wall behind you.

“Oh, God. Yes, Simon.” You huffed out.

He knew now that you were much more experienced than he formerly realized.

“You feel so good.” You panted, bringing your other hand to the back of his head.

He held you higher for that, giving him a better angle so he could go deeper. Simon then slid out and slammed in as far as he could, groaning at the feeling and the sounds you were making. Delicious noises were coming from both of you, pure feelings of ecstasy and desire. He began to fuck you hard and fast until the sounds of your cries and his moans were echoing off of the walls. He sucked a hard hickey into your neck, moving even faster at your pleasure filled moans.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know what’s going on in that head of yours,” He grunted; “Wondering what it would feel like for an older guy to fuck you senseless.”

“Please, Si.” You pleaded.

“What, baby?” He purred.

“Harder.” You said, not even able to string a sentence together.

He was totally stunned now, not even sure he had heard you right. He obliged though, pounding so hard into you that you moaned each time he went back in. He’d be surprised if you could even walk tomorrow.

“Is this what you wanted?” He huffed, feeling his release building fast.

“Yes. Oh, fuck yes.” You confirmed.

In response, he rubbed hard circles on your clit. A new round of whimpers escaping your chest. The hot coil in your belly was growing quickly. He could feel it. He sped up his pace, feeling you tighten around him as you released.

He slammed into you again, his cock pulsing hard before filling you completely. He groaned into your shoulder as he came. Your final squeak announced your finish as well, your body going limp around him.

Your mind was reeling. You never thought he’d be able to do that. Your breathings were erratic and fast, as you tried to recover. He rested his forehead against yours. He kissed you lazily, knowing that this wasn’t the last time this would happen.

“I have to admit that you were right.” He said after a few moments.

You looked at him with flushed cheeks, your head in a total fog. You smiled.

“About what?” You wondered.

He kissed you again.

“I totally underestimated you.”

#the walking dead simon #simon x reader #simon twd #twd #simon x reader twd #simon twd x reader #simon twd fanfic #simon the walking dead #simon twd imagines #twdbegins

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iraacundus · 4 years

Text

International Relations

arrangedmarriage!hendery

genre: fluff, angst, smut words: 21k Warnings: sexual content; mentions of terrorism, death and injury; swearing

he was the president’s son, you were the ambassador’s daughter, forced into a marriage, the success of which, world peace quite literally hinged on

********

The news was unavoidable, every night it got worse and worse, your parents had advised you not to watch it, but you never listened. The tensions between the two countries had been rising for years and though they did their best to cover it up, those in the know, like your father, knew that you were on the brink of war.

“The proposed trade deal and boarder agreement between the two nations has fallen through,” said the newsreader who looked as calm as ever despite the potentially terrifying consequences of what she was saying.

You heard a knock at your door, so you fell leaned back on your bed, switching the TV off.

“Come in,” you called out, the door opening to reveal your father. You didn’t see him often, though you both lived in the same house, he had always been busy as ambassador to a county that your whole nation hated. So, when you saw him walk in, you knew it was important.

“I guess you have seen the news,” he said, spotting the remote that was still in your hand.

“We’re in serious danger, aren’t we?” you asked, but it wasn’t really a question, you knew the answer before you had asked.

Your father didn’t reply, he just sat down slowly on your desk chair, exhaling slightly.

“Your bodyguards will need to accompany you at all times now, even to university.” He said. It was your turn to sigh. It wasn’t that you disliked your bodyguards, or that you weren’t used to them, but university had always been a place you had a bit of freedom, without being watched all the time.

You didn’t argue though, you understood the gravity of the situation.

“I’m working on a solution, I think the issue can be resolved…” he cut himself off, looking more distressed than usual, “Just… I need you to meet me tomorrow afternoon in the Embassy Dining Room.” He said getting up again.

You wanted to ask why, but you also didn’t want to trouble him, he looked exhausted. The Dining Room was only used for official matters so the mere mention of it had inspired your curiosity, but you knew the situation wasn’t really about you, so you kept your mouth shut. A few minutes after he had left you put your slippers on and crept outside the door.

You had four bodyguards in total, two for the nightshift and two for the day, sadly your favourite mostly worked at night, so you rarely got to chat, but that night you took it upon yourself to go annoy him.

Jeno was by far your best bodyguard, all of them were the same age as you so they didn’t stand out in a crowd and so over the last few years Jeno had also become your close friend.

You found him standing just outside your door drinking milk tea, sometimes you couldn’t believe what his job was the way he acted.

“Hello bestie,” you called out to him, Jeno smiled when he saw you.

“Hello y/n,” he greeted back, “how are you this evening?”

It was always nice to talk to Jeno, not just because he was your friend but your bodyguards were the only people you knew except your family who were from your country, spoke your language, in every other aspect of your life you had to speak the language of a nation you resented.

“Stressed out, I think we are about this close to war,” you joked, putting your fingers as close together as possible while still leaving a gap. Jeno already knew this of course, while he was your bodyguard, he was also technically a member of the army, an important member at that.

He had joined at 16 and was so impressive he was almost immediately assigned to you.

“It will be fine,” he reassured, “Your Dad is a smart man, he will have a plan.”

“That’s what I’m stressed about,” you explained further, “he says I have to meet him tomorrow in the Dining Room, which has to be part of his plan,”

“Maybe you will get to meet the President,” Jeno laughed, you threw a mint at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I think the President hates us all enough to just shoot us on site,”

“That would really cause a war,” Jeno said, throwing the mint back at you, but you managed to catch it in your mouth, “Impressive,” he commented.

“It also means I have to have Chenle and Jaemin follow me around all day which I just don’t think I can take, are you sure you can’t switch to the day shift?”

Jeno shook his head, you stopped him before he could start his spiel of how he was the best out of all of them and you were statistically more likely to be targeted at night and so that’s when he was on duty, he told you this almost every day when you asked him to switch shifts.

“Just don’t say it,” you warned.

“But I am the best,” Jeno said proudly.

“I take it back I’m happy to have the other two,”

Jeno pouted,

“So much for bestie.”

You couldn’t help but smile, Jeno had managed to do exactly what you knew he would, make you smile, and forget about the impending doom of a war your country couldn’t win.

You talked with him a while more but when your brother came out and told you to,

“stop being annoying losers and go to bed,” - he was twelve - you went back into your room and turned the tv on again.

They were showing an interview with Hendery from earlier in the day. Hendery was the son of the President and you wondered how someone who seemed so nice could be the son of someone so evil.

He was sitting opposite the interviewer talking about how he hopes to start a project with his friends to help disadvantaged children and when they asked about the current international tensions, he said that he hoped a peaceful resolution could be reached.

You scoffed slightly at that; he should tell that to his father.

You had spent half your life on TV wondering what Hendery was like in real life, it was a weird obsession that Jeno regularly made fun of you for.

You just couldn’t figure out how much of his persona on TV was an act, how someone in such a strict family really lived, who were his friends, what did he do for fun. You had to think that like you, he had led a relatively isolated life.

If there had been one person you could have invited to your fantasy dinner party, it would have been Hendery. Chenle always picked Stephen Curry. It would have been a weird fantasy dinner party.

You had actually seen Hendery a few times in real life, you both attended the most prestigious university in the country, and he was only a year older than you. He was always with the same two people, one was Lucas, son of an important politician, the other was his main bodyguard, well at least you assumed as much.

You had never seen him on the news, his name was never mentioned alongside Lucas and Hendery in magazines, you assumed that the state was blocking his personal information from the media, to hide that he was a bodyguard.

Hendery had real bodyguards as well, two or three always followed behind the trio, but something just didn’t add up about that third guy being a normal college student.

You switched the TV off once again when Jeno sent you a text making fun of you for watching the Hendery interview again, you must have had the volume up too loudly. You were worried and stressed but you had never been one to struggle sleeping, so when you turned the light off and pulled the duvet up to your chin you fell asleep almost immediately.

*******************

Chenle and Jaemin had followed you around all day at university as planned, luckily no one had tried to attack you, but the paparazzi had been there taking as many photos as they could.

“I hope they got some good pictures of me, I actually have quite the fanbase back home as the cute bodyguard,” Jaemin tried to brag as you hid in the student café as far away from any windows as possible.

“Your wrong,” Chenle objected, you were about to agree with him when Chenle continued, “I definitely have more fans.”

You banged your head against your textbook.

“I hate you both, I should have made Jeno come,” you said causing Jaemin to pout and Chenle to just laugh.

You were about to kick him when Jaemin nudged you.

“He’s here,” he said ominously,

“Who?” you asked, “Please let it be Jeno to save me from you losers.”

“No, Hendery and Co.”

You fell silent, noticing Jaemin was right. Hendery, Lucas and the guy you didn’t know had just walked in and sat down a few tables away. You forced yourself not to stare.

“Not only am I stuck with you two but I’m also being followed by the enemy.”

“I don’t think he’s following us,” Chenle said, ‘Probably he was just hungry.”

“No, he’s definitely staring at y/n,” Jaemin said,”maybe he found that she watches him on the news over and over again.”

This time you did kick Jaemin, causing him to shout slightly. All three of them were now definitely looking at you.

Luckily at that moment Hendery seemed to get a call so you whispered at the two boys to get up.

“It’s almost three o’clock, we need to go meet my dad,” you explained as you all half ran out of the dining hall, entering into a full run when the cameras spotted you.

You didn’t think three people could have reacted anymore suspiciously than you just had.

A car was waiting with the diplomatic flags to pick you up, Jaemin shoved you and Chenle into the backseat, before shutting the door and climbing in next to the driver. The car had shaded windows so you could finally relax.

“Who do you think is going to be waiting in the Dining Room?” Chenle asked you. You hadn’t told either of them exactly where you were meeting your dad, Jeno was such a gossip.

You pulled up at the Embassy only ten minutes later. Cameras were once again outside but none of them seemed interested in you when you got out of the car and walked up to the gate. You thought it was strange, but you also weren’t complaining.

The guards saluted as the opened the gate to let you in. You walked along the drive and around to the back entrance that led into your family’s part of the house. Your dad had texted for you to wear something semi-formal, so you pulled out one of your favourite flowery dresses, found a nice pair of low heels and slid a bracelet onto your wrist.

It was your lucky bracelet. Jeno had given it to you for your 18th Birthday, it was a traditional bracelet made in your home country. Apparently by an old lady had cast a spell on you that made it lucky, while you highly doubted it was true, you still wore it every time you were nervous, believing it would help you.

You heard a small knock at your door,

“Are you dressed?” You heard Jeno call out, you quickly opened your door to let him in. His face looked grey.

“I volunteered to go with you to the meeting, I figured you had dealt with enough of the other two for one day.”

“But you were on duty last night, aren’t you tired, I’m sure Renjun could do it,” he was your fourth bodyguard.

“It’s okay, I slept all day and also I know you are nervous, so I wanted to be able to support you, even if it is silently from two meters away.”

You smiled, giving him a small hug before leaving the room and heading towards the dining room. Jeno seemed more nervous than you, you guessed your father had told him what was going on in advance. You could have asked Jeno, but you almost didn’t want to know.

You fidgeted outside the door, procrastinating your entrance. Jeno put his hand on your shoulder lightly.

“You look great y/n, and you do well at everything, it will be fine.” He said.

When you opened the door to the Dining Room you almost fell over. You had no idea what you had expected but to see the President, his wife and Hendery, sitting across the table from your own parents was a shock.

You glanced back at Jeno who gave you his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

“Y/n,” your father called out, motioning for you to come and sit in the empty chair in between him and your mother, opposite Hendery. You don’t know who you were more scared to see, the evil President or Hendery. Hendery wasn’t smiling like he always did on TV, like always seemed to be with Lucas. A frown was firmly settled on his lips and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

You sat down carefully in the chair after bowing your head in respect towards the President. Because he wasn’t a normal president, he had been elected once but that was a long time ago, he hadn’t held an election in twenty years, as long as you had been alive, so to you he wasn’t a president but a dictator.

Unlike Hendery, the President smiled at you, his smile seemed genuine unlike the slightly forced smile on both his wife and your parents’ faces.

“It’s lovely to meet you, y/n,” The President said, offering his hand out to shake, his grip firm and unwavering, “This is my wife and my son Hendery, I’m sure you’ve probably seen him around at university.”

You smiled the best you could,

“Yes, I’ve heard he’s quite popular,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his mouth still resting in a firm line.

The President laughed. An intern came in and poured some tea before anyone continued speaking.

“The ambassador and I are both worried about how the tensions between our two countries are developing. We have been unable to find a traditional solution, yet we seem to have found an agreement that will solve the animosity so that eventually trade deals and boarder disputes can be settled.” He began.

You noticed Hendery hadn’t drunk any of the tea but was gripping the handle tightly, as sinking feeling arose in your chest as you began to guess what was going to be suggested, you were an intelligent person.

“It would require a large sacrifice on both your and my son’s behalf and to that extent we both know we cannot force you to agree but warn you of the consequences of this agreement failing.”

You tried to drink your tea as calmly as possible.

“Neither of us would suggest this if we felt there was a better option your father added.” They were both avoiding the main point.

“Marriage,” Hendery said all of a sudden, “That’s what they are trying to suggest.”

You knew what they were suggesting but the fact Hendery said it out loud almost caused you to choke on your tea.

“Yes,” the President continued, “as my son not so eloquently put, we feel that a union between the two countries would help people from both sides understand each other better through supporting a couple. We will pose it as if you had both met at university and fell in love naturally and we hope it means people will learn to love you, it might not work straight away but we hope it can win over the hearts of those who oppose on both sides eventually.”

You swallowed. It wasn’t like you had someone else you wanted to marry, you had never had a crush, you figured you would never be able to marry for love anyway, however you hadn’t banked on Hendery, on marrying into a family you resented so greatly.

“Hendery has already agreed but of course you do have a choice, I’m not in the business of making people do things they do not wish,” He said. You had to stop yourself from snorting with laughter.

He was blackmailing you into marriage with the threat of war, so his statement was just rather ironic, especially as blackmail was how he maintained power in more aspects of his life than not.

“Anything to ensure peace,” you said graciously. The President clapped his hands together with a grin.

“I knew you were a smart woman,” He said. You father breathed out a visible sigh of relief, you were offended he ever thought you would let your country down.

“We won’t announce the engagement right away, we will give you both some time to get to know each other, sometime to back away, in a month or so, if you are still both willing, we will hold a gala to announce the engagement, by then we will need you to have come up with a water-tight backstory, I can get someone to help create it if you wish, but all this can be discussed later.”

Another intern came in seconds later to inform the President and my father of urgent business for them both, causing them to both give their apologies and leave quickly.

You were left with Hendery, your mother and your future mother in law. Your mothers began to chat, both gushing about planning a wedding. It wasn’t that they were insensitive, they just both wanted to make the best out of a bad situation, you could tell from their earlier faces that they both worried for you.

Hendery’s eyes remained fixed on the tea, glaring at the cooling liquid.

You had never wanted to ask him a question more than right now. But you were scared, it wasn’t that you were afraid of Hendery in general, but you didn’t want to upset him. He was clearly nervous, playing with his fingernails.

You didn’t know why you felt so calm in comparison, you didn’t think Hendery could have had plans to marry for love, like you he must have always known he would marry for politics.

Yet something seemed to scare him. You had more reason to be scared, you were joining his family as his family was more powerful, you would have to live in his country as part of a dictatorship, but he seemed more scared.

“Too shy to even talk to each other, how cute,” your mum cooed. You wanted to throw a pen at her, you were starting to think you were a slightly violent person.

“We will fix that soon enough, why don’t you both come over on Saturday and we can talk for longer, so they can get to know each other better.” His mother suggested.

Yes, because all best conversations between fiancés happen in front of their mothers, you wanted to say to Jeno, but you had to pretend he wasn’t there, that was his job.

A few minutes later your mothers had exchanged phone numbers and were getting up to leave. You thought Hendery would at least acknowledge you, but he seemed to not even see you when he stood up to leave. You followed him out to the entryway, you could tell the mothers had tactically waited behind a few seconds.

“My name’s y/n,” you said to him loudly enough that he had to look over at you. He nodded.

“I know my father said, and also I have seen you at Uni, you were in the café today, you kicked your bodyguard and ran out,” he said.

You blushed red, cursing your violent nature, you were going to marry the son of an evil dictator who had only ever seen you act strangely. You must have committed so many sins in your past life.

“I’m Hendery,” he said, still not smiling.

“I think we both know I know who you are.” Your statement sounded slightly more accusatory than you had meant, but I didn’t seem to make Hendery seem anymore unhappy than he already was.

Neither of you said anything further in the two awkward minutes it took for your mothers to finally emerge.

“It was lovely to meet you,” His mother said wrapping her arms around you, far more personal contact than you had hoped for, but you understood she was just trying to be nice.

“You too,” you said with a grin, hoping you didn’t come across as disingenuous. The guard at the door opened the door for them to leave. Before Hendery did, he turned to give you a small smile,

“See you soon y/n,” he said. Before walking out towards all the flashing lights of the media storm that hat gathered.

You were not sure whether he had been nice to you for the sake of his mother or if he had just felt obliged but you were grateful nonetheless as it had made the whole experience seem less dire and it also had allowed your mother to smile from relief.

“He doesn’t seem too bad,” she said.

“He’s better than a war,” you replied before excusing yourself in the name of homework but really your aim was to get some peace and quiet.

You started walking up to the roof, Jeno close behind, you were waiting for him to shout at you and tell you that it was easy for you to be shot from the roof like he usually did but the words never came.

Even as you lifted yourself off the ladder Jeno said nothing he just came up and sat beside you, having texted Jaemin, Renjun and Chenle who also appeared moments later.

“You don’t get to marry evil Hendery that you’re obsessed with that’s not fair,” Jaemin whined as he sat down next to you, “you were meant to marry me.”

You shot him a confused look,

“In what world was I marrying you, if I was going to marry any of you it would be Jeno, but I would never because we are quintuplets.” You say to him to which he just sticks his tongue out.

“Chenle’s only like three years old,” Renjun protests. You laugh sadly.

“I will miss you all,” you said.

“Absolutely not,” Jeno replied, “we are not doing sad hours tonight.”

“What are we doing then?” asked Chenle while simultaneously fighting Renjun for calling him three years old.

“We will find me an outfit to wear for Saturday so that I’m so gorgeous it knocks Hendery out and I don’t have to talk to him, and he also forgets our weird café behaviour.” You said.

“Weirdly specific but okay,” Jaemin replied. The other three sighed, all of the boys hated outfit time, not because they were against fashion, but because you were so indecisive.

*******************

They may have complained but it worked, by the time you turned up at the front door of the Presidential House on Saturday you looked drop dead gorgeous. Your mother and Jeno had come with you and you all stood just behind the door waiting for it to open.

You were ushered through a series of rooms and up some stairs until you reached a bright sunny sitting room on the third floor. Inside Hendery’s mother was pouring some tea there was, however, no sign of Hendery himself.

She rushed over to great you, making sure you sat down, passing out cakes.

“I am sorry,” she said, “I told him to be ready for eleven.”

Just at that moment Hendery entered, wearing a suit, something he rarely did. You hated to admit how attractive he looked; you didn’t want Jeno to be right about your obsession.

He was followed by the third guy, the one who wasn’t Lucas. You had been right; he must have been a bodyguard as he went and stood next to Jeno.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Hendery interjected, “My suit wasn’t dry,” he explained, his face flustered. At least that humanised him somewhat, you could live with Hendery, you just had to believe he was a real person deep down somewhere.

He sat down on a chair across from you just like before, yet this time his eyes stared right at you.

“So, what do you study?” Hendery’s mother asked you, trying to get the conversation started.

You pushed a smile onto your face.

“Modern Languages and International Politics” you replied. You liked to think you were an impressive person, at least in some respects. You could speak four languages fluently and were learning two more at university. You knew almost as much about world affairs as your parents and your mother had always taught you excellent manners.

“You could study with Hendery,” she suggested, “he studies International Politics and History,” she said, after he didn’t offer up the information himself. You saw her try to nudge him and had to hold back a giggle.

“We certainly could, that would be lovely,” you said, looking Hendery dead in the eyes, daring him to stay silent. You couldn’t marry someone who didn’t speak to you, “What do you do for fun?” you asked him.

“I like playing basketball and watching films,” he said. His voice was cold, it may have dissuaded anyone else, but you refused to give up.

“Ah maybe you could teach me how to play, one of my bodyguards loves basketball and has tried his best to teach me but I’m a failure at it, I prefer tennis if I’m honest.”

Hendery didn’t reply.

“That’s great, I must challenge you to a match sometime y/n,” his mother replied, “that is if you don’t give up on marrying my son here, I do apologise he isn’t usually this… shy.”

You certainly didn’t believe being shy was his issue. You also didn’t understand what his issue was. He must have had a girlfriend you decided, made the mistake you never had and fallen in love with someone he could never marry.

But you were only guessing you had no idea.

“Don’t worry,” you replied, “Hendery isn’t bad enough to destroy international peace for.” A statement that caused both of your mothers to laugh somewhat nervously.

Hendery looked down and back up again.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “I really just am a bit nervous.”

You were a bit sceptical of this excus, still you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and take pity on him.

“Why?” you asked, “I don’t bite,”

Hendery laughed slightly, shaking his head.

“It’s not that, I just want to make a good impression I guess, you are my future wife and also…” he didn’t finish, “I’ll explain some other time,” he said, his eyes flicked to our mothers next to him.

He was right that it was hard to connect with four other people in the room, but the mothers particularly. Jeno you would have told later if he hadn’t been there, but the presence of parents made the meeting feel formal.

However, Hendery did seem to make more of an effort as the meeting continued. You learned that he likes cats and that his favourite colour was pink. Nothing ground-breaking, he still seemed like Hendery on TV, picture perfect and somewhat shallow. Not in the sense that he was self-obsessed but more that he was like a cartoon character 2-D. He lacked any sense of humanity or connection, he said all the right things, never saying anything particularly meaningful.

On reflection he probably thought the same about you.

You only saw Hendery once more properly in the following weeks. You were both busy with university and it was hard to find a time you could meet with your mother’s present, something they insisted on until you were both officially engaged.

Only three weeks after the marriage was first suggested Hendery asked his father if the marriage could be announced sooner rather than later, despite having a week left to decide. You guessed he partly did this to avoid any more awkward teatime chats with your mothers. The President rang you to ask if you were also okay with making a decision early, you agreed. Also, partly to avoid any more of those chats.

It was decided that your engagement would be announced two weeks later and a ball to celebrate would be held the night after that

Your last night of normality passed quickly, you went out to play mini golf with the four boys. You were usually only allowed out a few times a month to large places such as the crazy golf one, but your parents had let it slide seeing as you were a 20-year-old woman about to get engaged.

The next morning your alarm rang at five. You sat up, questioning whether you should take up Renjun on an offer he had given to smuggle you out of the country. If only world peace hadn’t been so important.

You kicked off your duvet in a mood and dragged yourself over to your dressing table. You didn’t have to get ready particularly, you had been assured state media would take care of hair and makeup, however you had still felt it was vital to at least brush your hair.

Ten minutes later Jeno arrived at your door with a McDonalds breakfast.

“Breakfast for M’lady,” he joked, kneeling down to pass it to you. From behind him you saw a girl’s head pop out from around the corner. You almost jumped backwards from shock. Jeno laughed.

“This is Chanmi,” he introduced, “she is your state provided assistant.”

“Why do you make it sound like communism Jeno,” she complained before jumping round him and holding her hand out for you to shake. She looked at her own hand and before you had a chance to shake it, she put it down and pulled you into a hug instead.

“I may work for you, but I also hope we become life-long friends,” she said. You appreciated that at least one person was excited for today.

“I’m y/n,” you smiled back, “I also hope we get on well.” You offered her a hash brown, but she refused.

“I already ate, I’m here to run through today’s schedule,” she pulled out a very large folder from her bag and opened it to the first page, “we have hair and make up at eight, wardrobe at nine and the announcement will be at around nine-thirty, but before that we have a rehearsal with Hendery, that’s why we are here so early.” Chanmi seemed to speak with out breathing.

Jeno looked down at his watch, five twenty-five.

“We need to go,” he said, “you can eat in the car.”

You grabbed your lucky bracelet from the side and clasped it round your wrist, there was no way you would have gone on television without it.

Jaemin, Chenle and Renjun stood at the door with your mother and little brother. They had gathered to wave you off even though you would be back home by the afternoon.

“I love you guys,” you managed to say half-way through eating your meal. Jeno continued hurrying you towards the car. You wanted to laugh how seriously he was suddenly taking his job, not that he had been messing around before, but he had never cared so much about being punctual.

He sat in the front so Chanmi could climb in next to you.

“Who is that good looking boy who was closest to the door?” she asked. Jaemin would have loved to hear her say that. But before you could tell her it was him; she had already carried on talking.

“You will meet with Hendery so you can both firm up your stories about your romance.” She explained.

“You know it’s fake?” you asked her.

“All key staff know, but not everyone who works in the Presidential House, so don’t mention it when other people are present,” she said. You nodded. You were starting to get nervous. It was not your first time on TV, you had filmed programmes for your home country about what it was like to study abroad and you had done work for the young ambassador’s programme run by Hendery’s country.

But this was… something else.

The drive was only ten minutes as usual, there was also no traffic in the morning, so you barely had time to contemplate your impending fate before arriving at the house.

Jeno and Chanmi ushered you out of the car and into the house, there was only one reporter waiting to hide you from, though you were surprised anyone had been there before six in the morning.

Hendery and his bodyguard, who Jeno had informed you was named Sicheng, were waiting for you just inside the door.

“Good morning,” you said as brightly as possible, taking another sip of your coffee, hoping it would help in some way. You were half expecting Hendery to change his mind at the sight of your tattered appearance before you remembered he wasn’t really marrying you for your beauty.

“Nice to see you again,” he replied, slightly less brightly. You all stood slightly awkwardly waiting for someone to lead the way.

“Why don’t we go somewhere to talk?” Chanmi prompted.

“Oh yes,” Hendery said, seeming to remember what was going on, “let’s go to the family dining room, I got someone to prepare some drinks and snacks.”

You felt a bit bad for standing there with your McDonalds coffee, there was worse crimes you could have committed than assuming he wouldn’t have provided food though you supposed.

You followed just behind Hendery with Chanmi as Sicheng fell back to walk with Jeno, both of them exchanging friendly glances. At least Jeno had made a friend.

The kitchen/dining room you entered looked somewhat normal compared to the rest of the house, though still elaborate and high class it was clearly somewhere a family lived, it much less resembled the home of a 16th century king.

Hendery seemed to notice your impression of the kitchen.

“A lot of the house is normal compared to the rest, it was remodelled for a modern family to live in, with proper central heating and all,” he joked, you politely gave him a small smile.

You looked over at the dining table. When he had said a few drinks and snacks he had been making a massive understatement. There was fruit, cereal, biscuits and hot food of all kinds. There was five types of juice, tea, coffee and even hot chocolate.

You really wished you hadn’t eaten the McDonalds.

“Help yourself,” Hendery said shyly, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked down. You couldn’t help but think about how cute he looked in the morning. You internally slapped yourself. This was a marriage of countries, not people.

“You guys too,” he said looking at Chanmi and the two bodyguards behind who had already began to hover by the pancakes. Sicheng high-fived Jeno and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Hendery looked over at you smiling when he saw you laugh.

“Shall we sit down?” he said. You grabbed an apple juice and a banana, as to not look impolite and sat down opposite where Hendery was. Chanmi sat down next to you, pulling out her massive folder once again.

“I assume we have to come up with, and learn a fake backstory,” he said to Chanmi, she nodded,

“Yes, you don’t have to be super detailed yet, it will be better to build in more details over time, but you do need to agree upon a basic timeline yes. It works best if you say you met at university and started dating sometime after, but you can both decide the details.”

You wished that she had just done it for you and printed it off but Hendery’s mother had explained weeks ago that if you came up with the story yourselves you were less likely to forget it.

“I think it’s best if we say we were friends for a while first,” you began, “I’ve been at the university for two years so we could perhaps say we met a year ago and started dating a while after?” You proposed.

“I agree,” he said, “We can say we started dating two months after we met. That we were introduced by our mutual friend Lucas…”

You cut him off,

“But I don’t know anything about Lucas,” you objected. Hendery shook his head,

“Doesn’t really matter they won’t be interested in the details of that yet, Lucas has many friends so it’s believable and by the time they ask about that I’m sure you will have met Lucas many times.”

What he said made sense. You paused for a moment, when he mentioned that you would meet Lucas, it started to dawn on you that your whole life, however you had seen it playing out, wasn’t going to be that way, your life would be dominated by your marriage to the son of a dictator you barely knew.

You almost dropped your cup at the thought of it, Chanmi saving it from falling by steadying your arm.

Her once infallible expression now looked somewhat anxious.

“Sorry,” you said, “You’re right Hendery that works.” You placed your cup down. Chanmi started to scribble down what Hendery had said once you confirmed he had a good idea.

“What else do we need to be able to talk about?” you asked, Chanmi scanned down her list of questions.

“Well just reasons you like each other, you can make that up on the spot though basic things, maybe agree on the location of the first date and proposal and that’s about it, most of it will be a prepared statement given by Hendery and only a few questions by reporters.”

“Study date,” Hendery said, “for the first date, we should say we studied together, we have to explain in a way that explains why we haven’t ever been seen together, it plays up the star crossed lovers angle,” he said, “You can answer that one, I will talk about the proposal don’t worry about that.”

You nodded, hazarding another sip of your juice. Chanmi smiled.

“All set then, I will go and make sure everything else is set up well, you have another half an hour or so to just hang out or whatever,” she said.

You had been hoping she wasn’t going to leave you alone with Hendery which you knew was stupid because you had to live a whole lifetime with him, however you were postponing that until the last minute.

Chanmi ran out the door and the other two were still enjoying the food, watching a video in the corner, thankfully nobody was attacking at the current moment.

“We are finally left alone,” Hendery joked, “well at least mostly.” You looked up and smiled politely again, playing with your bracelet nervously.

“That’s pretty,” he commented, “where did you get it?”

“Jeno gave it to me when I turned eighteen, it’s from our home country.”

Hendery glanced over at Jeno who looked up from his phone and waved back. Hendery’s face changed slightly but you couldn’t read his expression.

“It’s meant to be charmed by a witch” you continued, “I wear it for luck.”

“Ah cool,” Hendery replied as he continued to watch you play nervously with the bracelet, “you don’t have to be so polite, if your nervous you can say, if you want to scream obscenities at me I wont stop you.”

You exhaled, the tension you held inside releasing slightly.

“It’s not your fault either, it isn’t an optimal situation for either of us so it would be unfair for me to scream obscenities. I’m not angry anyway. But nervous… that I am.”

“About the announcement?” he prompted. You glanced up at the ceiling, looking at the intricate pattern in the paint.

“Not in particular though it does unsettle me slightly. It’s more of an overall nervousness I would say…” Hendery seemed to want you to continue, “Well you seem polite and all, but I don’t know you and so giving up my life to marry you is somewhat scary. But sometimes in life you have to make sacrifices, and this is mine, as it is yours.”

Hendery kept looking at you before he got up, he walked round and sat down in the chair next to you where Chanmi had once been.

“I suppose I understand that better than anyone else ever will,” he said his face serious, “but I really mean it when I say I don’t want either of us to be unhappy, so I really will try my best, not for the sake of international relations but for the sake of ourselves.”

You smiled genuinely at him.

“I’m sure at worst I will only hate you a little bit,” you joked.

A text came through on your phone from Chanmi, you didn’t know when she had acquired your phone number, but you pushed that thought aside.

Makeup Time!!! Upstairs third room on the left

“I have to go, my beautification awaits,” you said.

“You’re already pretty,” Hendery said, you were going to laugh but Hendery seemed serious. You blushed slightly. You put your phone in your pocket and grabbed a water bottle of the table.

“Well thank you and see you later for the end of our lives,” you said.

“It’s not the end it’s the beginning!” Hendery called after you as you hurried out. Jeno saw you leaving and almost fell over running after you.

“I see you have made a new best friend,” you said to him, on the way to where you hoped you would find Chanmi.

“I can’t be stuck with the same four friends my whole life, can I?” he said, “And anyway you and Hendery seem pretty close, you were always obsessed with him.”

“I was never obsessed with him,” you shout whispered back to him, clearly not quietly enough as Chanmi, who was waiting at the top of the stairs intercepted the conversation.

“Obsessed with who? I don’t think I’m up to a secret boyfriend scandal, let’s make that clear now.” She said.

“It’s nothing,” you said, glaring at Jeno. Chanmi seemed happy to accept that and a few seconds later had you seated in a chair in front of a large mirror.

For the next hour you had to endure several people pulling your hair and prodding your face. By the end you did look better than you ever had but you were not sure if the sweat and tears were worth it.

You had no time to ponder this as Chanmi was already pushing you towards a clothes rack. Jeno decided it was time for him to wait outside the door, leaving just you, Chanmi and the clothes.

“Jeno isn’t the secret boyfriend, is he?” Chanmi asked, searching through the rack. You coughed, water almost dribbling out of your mouth.

“No. He’s my brother practically, in all honest he was making fun of me and Hendery. I used to watch Hendery on TV obsessively, not because I had a crush on him but because I thought the son of a dictator was an interesting character. I didn’t believe he could be the same person in life as he is on TV, so I watched him over and over hoping to catch him out.”

“I want to say that’s cute given the situation but really think we will just need to find you a hobby to take up,” Chanmi decided, her face determined, “you can pick from any of these three,” she handed you three similar dresses, you picked a flower one, similar to the ones you had at home but clearly more expensive.

Chanmi smiled,

“Your mother told me you loved flowers,”

That must have been where she got your phone number.

“It’s a beautiful dress,” you complimented her for finding it,

“It should be at the price it costs.”

You pulled your makeshift outfit off and put on the outfit. She gave you some earrings and a necklace.

“Don’t I need an engagement ring?” you asked her.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said with a knowing smile. Jeno knocked on the door at the same time.

“You need to get going,” he called. You smiled at Chanmi before following her out and back down the staircase. She led you into the room next to the conference room where a team of people were waiting.

A lady started explaining how the microphone worked and that you didn’t need to stand up to answer any questions. She fell silent when Hendery walked into the room, his father and yours right behind him. Your father gave you a quick smile before turning back to the President.

Hendery walked up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder lightly,

“Can I borrow you for one minute?” he asked, and you followed him into an empty room across the hall. It seemed to be a rather large bathroom. Hendery locked the door.

“Is this the part where you murder me?” you asked, trying to make a joke. Hendery didn’t seem to understand, he looked shocked,

“I would never hurt you, let alone murder you, y/n, I hope you know that,” he said earnestly.

“I was joking,” you said, trying to laugh to ease the tension but it sort of sounded more like you were having breathing issues.

“Okay good because we don’t have a lot of time,” he said. You smiled back at him.

“What did you want to tell me then, if your plan wasn’t murder?” cursing yourself for bringing the murder joke back as soon as you had said it, luckily whether out of politeness or genuine humour Hendery chuckled.

He started to get down on one knee,

“Oh no… you don’t need to do this,” you said to him, shaking your hands. Hendery just grinned.

“But I want to, I should at least propose to my fiancé,” he pulled a box out of his pocket to reveal a ring that must have cost a large fortune, not a small one, “Will you marry me?” His face now serious as he looked up at you with a certain hope in his eyes.

You were more nervous now than you had been all day, you clutched the ends of your dress, your nails digging into your skin. The reality of the situation ever increasing.

“Yes,” is all you managed to say, but it was all you needed to say, Hendery stood up and placed the ring on your finger, his own fingers cold. The heating was certainly lacking.

He was wearing a much nicer suit than before, this time it wasn’t at all damp looking either. He wore a black tie and a badge with his country’s flag on it.

“We need to go,” you managed to say, very aware of how close Hendery now was to you and how you didn’t need another reason to be nervous. An attractive man standing that close made you nervous.

“Let’s go then,” Hendery said unlocking the door and holding it open for you which you thanked him for, quickly walking back across the hall.

Chanmi grabbed you, clearly checking that Hendery had given you the ring, once she had seen it, she was satisfied.

“Time to shine,” she said pushing you towards the door.

The conference room had been set up with four seats, Hendery and the President in the middle, you and your father seated either side. You saw both your mothers watching from the front row with Chanmi. Jeno was standing with a line of bodyguards at the back, Chanmi had let you keep your bracelet on and so you felt somewhat calmer because of it.

Hendery sat down first and you walked across to sit next to him.

“You will be fine,” he whispered to you. At the same time his father began to speak.

“Today the Presidential House would like to make an announcement regarding the recent engagement of my son Hendery and his fiancé y/n, daughter to an ambassador to this country.” he said, “My son would like to read a short statement to this effect.”

“I would like to express to everyone who is watching my happiness on my engagement to the love of my life, y/n. Although we come from different countries, two that have not always agreed in the past, we have still managed to find each other and that is something I think is beautiful. I hope that all of our citizens can respect out forthcoming marriage and grow to love y/n just as much as I do.” He said smiling down at you at the end.

It made you feel sick, the words he said, lies.

Lies to a nation who would love to see your country burn, just meters away from a President who would let that happen if other countries wouldn’t condemn him for it.

The President then spoke again, of how this had allowed the two nations to come to a trade agreement and therefore how it must have been fate, though he was suspicious at first, he now recognised the power of true love.

In that moment you hated him. He may have given you an opportunity for peace but only in a manner that would cause your father to suffer through losing you to him. You hated him for how he used his own son to achieve this, it made you feel more sick than anything Hendery could ever say.

Yet the conference continued, and you sat with the same fake smile on your face, trying desperately to ensure a nation loved you, to ensure it was all worth it.

The questions began, the same ones Chanmi had promised, first date, favourite things,

“I love how hardworking he is,” you said,

“She is very determined and passionate,” Hendery said.

“Where did your engagement occur” they asked,

“You won’t believe me Jungwoo,” he began, of course he knew the reporter, “but I actually proposed here in a bathroom,” a shriek of laughter went up.

“Why a bathroom?” Jungwoo the reporter replied incredulous.

“Well actually we first met in a bathroom, y/n was with Lucas having dinner with some friends and he had invited me to come join, I walked in to see the bathroom door open and y/n crawling on the floor trying to find her earring and so I helped her search, so I suppose jewellery in a bathroom is sort of a fun joke to us.”

Though the story was false you felt calmer that Hendery somehow had not lied about the location of the proposal, he had made your relationship seem not one-hundred percent fake to you, for which you were grateful.

The interview ended shortly after. You filed out of the room and back into the hallway.

“That went brilliantly,” the President asserted, your father agreeing strongly, eager to please him. You loved your father, but you hadn’t realised he was a slightly weak man until that moment.

You turned to Hendery,

“Thank you for working in the true location of the proposal, its hard to explain why but it means a lot to me.”

“I get what you mean, it is the one thing about us that is true and that does mean something,” Hendery agreed, “that’s why I worked it into that ridiculous story, also its so ridiculous no one would ever believe I was lying.”

You started to notice Chanmi hovering, it was time for you to leave.

“I suppose I will see you for the ball tomorrow then?” you said. Hendery nodded.

You were about to leave when Hendery remembered something.

“Ah yeah, here’s my phone number, in case you need anything,” he said handing you a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Thank you, and thank you for the ring, it’s beautiful.”

“I picked it myself last week… the ring not the phone number,” he said. You laughed, properly, not out of any obligation.

“Bye Hendery.”

“Bye bye future wife.”

And with that you walked to Chanmi who lead you back out of the building and away.

You cried when you got home. You were understandably upset about the whole situation but when you pulled out your phone and the number Hendery had left and texted him saying

This is y/n btw

You felt somewhat better, it wasn’t Hendery you objected to, he seemed nice and maybe in another life you would even have chosen to date him.

It was the lack of freedom and the lies that upset you, it was the smile on the Presidents face when he announced he was suddenly able to agree to the trade deal terms. You could have punched a wall.

You didn’t even want to talk to Jeno.

But when Hendery replied with a screenshot of his phone where he had saved your name as ‘fiancé from the bathroom’ with a heart, you wanted to punch the wall a little less.

*******************

“Just breathe in more!” Chanmi shouted as she struggled to close the final clasp on the corset of your dress.

“Could you not have found a dress that fits a normal human?” You replied, red in the face from all the breathing in. Jeno and Jaemin were in fits of laughter in the corner watching, clearly finding your struggle rather amusing.

The dress Chanmi was wrestling you into was a beautiful lilac ballgown, one of the famous colours of Hendery’s country, he was going to wear a red tie, the colour of your own nation.

With one last breath in, Chanmi managed to secure it properly and you were able to breathe again, though not at full capacity, the dress had perhaps permanently destroyed your lung functionality.

“Right shoes on, we are almost late,” Chanmi continued running around, shoving one last hairpin into your hair.

It was the night of your engagement ball, even the name of the event sounded elaborate even to you.

Your phone told you that you had about three minutes to run to the top of the ballroom, to walk down the stairs, like something out of Cinderella.

You threw Jeno your phone and started to run, Chanmi running just as fast next to you.

“If that stupid dress had fit this wouldn’t have happened, now you’re going to be red in the face,” Chanmi complained, “I will fight that tailor.”

You had never heard such anger towards a dressmaker before so you refrained from making a statement about how the dress had made you red in the face, late or not.

You reached the door that led to the ballroom balcony with about a minute to spare. Chanmi started viscously fanning you with her schedule to an extent you couldn’t help but laugh.

Chanmi was so passionate about her job it was amazing, it took your mind off your nerves. You were about to walk down the stairs with about three hundred people watching you, you had to not fall, look graceful and most importantly make them love you.

And make them think you and Hendery were in love, there was also that.

Your face had almost returned to a normal colour as Chanmi raised up her fists to cheer you on and the balconey doors opened.

It took a second for your brain to remember what to do, but finally you stepped forward. You could see the ballroom below, filled with important people in expensive clothing. But at the bottom of the steps waiting you could also see Hendery.

You kept your eyes fixed on him as you descended, he was the only person in the room you recognised except for your own parents and therefore he was the only face you could look at without passing out due to nerves.

Peace between nations rested on the important people here liking you, believing you were worth the love of the President’s son. That was a heavy burden to bear and it weighed down on your shoulders that you had to keep perfectly upright even as you reached the final steps.

Hendery’s eyes looked in awe of you. You thanked God that at least one of you was a good actor.

He walked towards you, offering out his hand as you reached the ground. You reached out to meet him, his hand touching yours softly. It was the first time you had ever had physical contact with him.

It wasn’t like a movie, sparks didn’t fly when he touched your hand, but it did reassure you slightly that he hadn’t run away yet.

He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to the top of your palm.

“You look beautiful y/n,” he said, his eyes shining due to the reflection of the chandelier light above.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said, forcing a giggle. It wasn’t that he didn’t look handsome, in truth he was possible the most handsome man you had ever seen at that moment in his black tie suit. You were just too nervous to laugh naturally, to act naturally.

Hendery smiled back up at you as the string music began to play.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, putting his other arm around your waist and pulling you closer. Luckily as the daughter of the ambassador you had learned to dance from a young age and therefore weren’t going to embarrass yourself.

“I fancy myself quite a good dancer,” you said smiling. Hendery nodded in agreement.

“You’re quite right about that, but I have to ask, am I really just not bad looking,” he said, leaning in closer to whisper the last part. You blushed slightly,

“I’m sure you know your very handsome Hendery,” you said before leaning in yourself to whisper in his ear, “and I agree with you, leaning and whispering is a good tactic to make us seem close.”

His eyes narrowed before he chuckled.

“You’re a smart woman y/n.”

You carried on dancing until the song ended at which point the President came over.

“May I cut in?” he asked, Hendery stepped back, the smile from his face immediately gone. In contrast you plastered a fake smile onto yours.

“It would be my honour,” you affirmed, when really the thought of dancing with such a horrendous man repulsed you. Physically the President was almost attractive as his son just many years older, yet you hated him so much so just the thought of touching him made you want to flee.

The music started up and you began to waltz.

“You and Hendery looked happy dancing,” he remarked.

“We get on reasonably well,” you replied simply. It wasn’t a lie.

“That pleases me to hear, I wouldn’t want to make either of you unhappy.” He also didn’t seem to be lying, and maybe he wasn’t but he was still willing to risk his own son’s happiness to make a point and so every word he said to you was like poison.

“Your son is a very smart and kind person, I am sure we will be a happy couple.” You said it because you had to make him happy but you did also wish it would be true. You hoped one day you and Hendery could be happy together for real.

You just had to fall in love with him first.

You danced until the end of the song, then you danced with about five state officials before you finally had to sit down. You were good at wearing heels but dancing for such an extended period of time was tiring.

You watched Hendery as you sat, dancing with the wives of the officials, his face smiling casually. He was instantly likeable just like on TV, yet you still didn’t believe he was really like that all of the time. You still wanted to find out if he had any cracks.

Lost in thought you didn’t notice Hendery standing in front of you, his hair slightly sweaty from all the dancing.

“Why are you sitting alone?” he asked.

“I don’t know many people here and I’ve always been a pretty solitary person, symptomatic of having to be guarded twenty-four seven,” you said, nodding back to where Jeno and Jaemin were at the edge of the room only metres away.

“Well lonely lady, we need to make a toast,” he said offering his arm for you to take. You stood up, the pain of your shoes starting up once again and linked your arm with his.

“We can’t all be sociable Mr. Perfect,” you joked back. Hendery looked away grinning,

“That’s not how I come across is it?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, you always seem perfect, dancing just now, in all your TV interviews..”

He cut you off,

“You watch me on TV?” he asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Don’t think to highly of yourself, I can’t help that you are always on the television, you’re the joy of a nation, there is whole magazines that basically only write about you and Lucas.”

Hendery chuckled again.

“And now they will only write about you and me,” he said. You had reached the top of the balcony where a member of staff signalled for the music to stop.

Hendery had just stepped forward to speak when it happened. At first you couldn’t be sure, all you heard was a loud bang and the sound of people screaming, then another bang occurred and Hendery let go of your arm, grabbed your hand and started to run pulling you behind him. You saw a group of men start to chase you up the stairs.

Your feet were in the most pain you had ever felt from wearing shoes but you kept running behind Hendery, holding onto his hand as tightly as you could, not knowing where he was running to but knowing that if you stopped the men behind could potentially try to kill you.

Hendery suddenly stopped by a door and flung it open, letting go of your hand to shut it quickly and locked it as soon as you were inside.

You opened your mouth to speak, Hendery shook his head raising his finger to his mouth indicating you should say silent. He turned the light off and got his phone torch out. He seemed to be searching for something but you couldn’t help him because you didn’t know what it was.

Seconds later you saw him lift some of the bathroom tiles that were fixed together to create a secret trapdoor. He pressed his thumb to the top corner of the tile which flashed green. Despite your fear you couldn’t help be impressed by the James Bond level tech this house seemed to have.

Hendery lifted the door up and motioned for you to climb in, you stepped back into the hole, your feet finding a ladder and you began to climb down as fast as you could, Hendery following, he managed to close the door just as you heard people attempt to kick the bathroom door down.

The ladder led down to what seemed to be a secret bunker. There was a final door which Hendery opened this time with his eye. The bunker was a small room, it had a bed and bottles of water but not much else.

Hendery sighed out once he had shut the outer door. You slumped down on the bed, your back leaning against the wall. Hendery walked over and handed you a cup of water.

“You can talk here, it’s soundproof,” he said but you were too shell-shocked to get any words out.

The first thing you could clearly think about was the pain in your feet, the running had caused your feet to start bleeding, something you noticed as you pulled the shoes off.

You ripped part of your dress and put the water on it, using it to wipe the blood from your feet.

Hendery sat down next to you, almost as shocked as you were, even if he was trying his best to hide it.

A bomb must have gone off, was your first thought, the ball had been attacked, probably in protest. You felt hot tears fall down your face at the realisation. Your parents had been down there, you didn’t know if they were safe.

Hendery seemed to snap out of his own thoughts, staring at you with concern. At least he wasn’t stupid enough to ask if you were okay.

You wiped the tears from your eyes furiously,

“Sorry,” you said, “I’m not usually such a baby.”

Your words seemed to cause Hendery more concern.

“Given the situation I don’t think crying makes you a baby,” he said. You shrugged.

“It’s not the first attack on my life in this country,” you replied, which was true, it was the fourth. People on both sides really did hate the other.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve… You have the right to be upset, to be scared, those are all normal emotions.”

“You’re not crying, why should I,” you countered. In any other situation you thought Hendery probably would have laughed.

“I don’t have the right, it was my father who got us both into this situation.”

“Your father,” you said, “not you.” The thought Hendery saw the situation as any way his fault, made you feel so much worse. You couldn’t stop your tears from flowing silently down your face.

Hendery looked at you with sad eyes, before he shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, bringing your head down onto his shoulder as he held you.

“I don’t ever object to my father, I’m not any better,” he mused sadly.

“I could have said no,” you whispered in reply, “but I didn’t in the hope that marring you would stop attacks like this, not against me but against my people and against yours. I like to believe Hendery that what we are doing is not in fear of your father, but creating peace in spite of your father.”

“Why has it ended with your cheering me up?” Hendery said, staring down at you.

“We are helping each other, a team for life right? You have a right to be scared an upset.” You quoted him on the last part.

“Are your feet okay?” Hendery asked, suddenly worried again. You looked down at your cut feet, the bleeding mostly stopped.

“I don’t think it’s life threatening.”

Hendery chuckled.

A moment later you heard the door bang. You both stood up, your worry for your feet gone again. Hendery held your hand, pushing you to stand behind him protectively, the door banged again before opening, your nails digging into the skin of Hendery’s hand.

“Are you okay y/n?!” you heard Jeno’s voice. You sighed with relief when you saw him standing at the door with Sicheng right next to him.

You ran over and threw your arms around him.

“What happened? What’s happening?” you heard Hendery ask Sicheng.

“Terrorists, protesting the trade agreement and demanding war, two bombs, luckily not strong but there was still five dead and twelve in critical condition.” Sicheng reported.

“Who, do you know who is dead?” you said letting go of Jeno and turning to face Sicheng.

“Nobody you would know Miss y/n,” he said, “Both of your parents are fine, your father has suffered a few minor injuries but nothing worrying,” he added. You breathed out a sigh of relief, something you felt terrible for given the tragedy.

Sicheng and Jeno led you both back out into the open and along to where both of your parents were waiting. Your father had a sling around his neck and the President had a large cut on his cheek, he had clearly been hit by a bit of shrapnel.

The President came over and started to apologise as your mother ran over to hug you.

“Hendery took me to an escape shelter,” you explained to her as she sobbed into your chest. You could tell she wanted to say she wished she had never let this marriage go ahead.

“I hope that what happened today doesn’t change your mind about anything?” was all the President asked. Hendery looked like he wanted to punch him, but his mouth stayed shut and he didn’t hit anyone.

You managed to remove yourself from your mother’s grip.

“It only reinforces the need for this marriage to go ahead.” You said.

“Then we think it is best for you to move in here for safety reasons. You can still have two of your own bodyguards but we feel the added protection would help. As you have seen we have many precautions in place in times of emergency.”

“Obviously you can have your own room,” Hendery’s mother added, “We can even work together with Chanmi to decorate it the way you like.”

Your heart dropped, you had forgotten about Chanmi, though Hendery’s mother mentioning her must have meant she was fine.

“Is she okay, Chanmi?” you asked to nobody in particular.

“She just had to get stitches in her arm,” Sicheng said, “Not the bomb but she was stabbed by an assailant looking for you.”

You wanted to bs sick, all of these people hurt because of your fake marriage. You put your hand to your head, almost falling over as your legs wobbled. Hendery managed to catch you, helping you stand straight, not letting go of you.

“Can we discuss this tomorrow father, I think y/n needs to rest, this has been a rather traumatising day,” he said.

Before you could protest that you were fine his father nodded.

“Let her sleep in your bed until we can get a room ready for y/n tomorrow, you can sleep in Sicheng’s room,” he said. Your parents didn’t protest. So Hendery helped you walk from the room, Jeno following behind, now with Jaemin and Sicheng.

“Five’s company,” you joked. Hendery didn’t laugh or say anything in return, his mouth set in a firm line. He didn’t say anything at all until you reached his room.

His room was at the end of a long corridor filled with doors, it really was a massive house. He opened the door and walked in with you, shutting it behind him, the three guards waiting outside.

He sat you down on his bed that was perfectly made. You stared around his room, all of it neat and tidy, you hadn’t expected otherwise. He had some photos of Lucas and him hanging on the wall and one of him with his parents.

He had an Xbox under the tv and a bowl full of keys to expensive cars, you thought it was funny how the things he liked were such stereotypical boy things.

The one thing in the room that surprised you was his bedside tables. One had a stack of books by the lamp, but the other had a picture of you and him, the one of only a few that existed, taken on one of your visits to his house in order for a press release later on.

Hendery saw you staring at it.

“That one was my favourite, so I told my mother she couldn’t give it to the press, something has to be sacred to our fake marriage.”

The word fake hurt to hear, even if it was true. You really wished you had met Hendery under any other circumstance but this.

“Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, I’m really sorry all this has happened.” Hendery said, turning to leave. You grabbed his arm softly to stop him.

“Hendery,” you said standing up, “thank you for saving us,” you said with a sad smile, “apart from Jeno you’re the only person to ever save me from an attack.”

Hendery bit his lip,

“Of all the things that I wish made me equal Jeno to you, I really wish it hadn’t been having to save you from being killed,” he said it somewhat jokingly but you knew he had said it in earnest.

You stepped towards Hendery and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I wish we had met in another life, in another way,” you began, your words partly muffled by his shirt against your lips, “I don’t know you well, but I think you are a person I will be proud to marry,” you moved your head back to look up at him.

“I hope you’re right,” he said before wrapping his arms around you in return. You stood like that for a moment longer before Hendery let go.

“Try and sleep,” he said, before leaving, the door shutting softly behind him.

You woke up from nightmare after nightmare through the night. You stared at the photo of you and Hendery in the frame, you looked so happy even if the happiness was fake. You finally fell asleep soundly dreaming of a life in which you and Hendery were truly happy.

*******************

You woke up to the light shining through the gap in the large curtains as you realised you had forgotten to close them properly.

It was your second week in your room at the President’s House and yet you still weren’t used to it. You heard a knock at the door, the repeated nature of which told you it was Chanmi. She had come back to work shortly after being released from hospital even though you had begged her to take a month or so off.

She was unfortunately not a month off type of person. She walked in without waiting for your answer, sighing when she saw you still hadn’t gotten out of bed.

“You know you have your first live TV interview today, get up!” she instructed. You laid back down pulling the duvet back over your head.

You still weren’t really able to think straight all the emotions of the last month were still processing in your mind, you didn’t know how you felt never mind how to pretend to convey how your pretend self felt on national television.

“It’s just one interview, I’m sure Hendery can do all the talking on the attack related questions,” she said clearly trying to cheer you up but you didn’t feel any better. You felt bad that the explanation seemed to rest on Hendery’s shoulders by default, you were sad that you were the cause of the attack and worst of all you knew you had to tell a whole country they shouldn’t attack you because you loved Hendery when that wasn’t really true.

While you had grown closer on that night, you hadn’t properly talked to him since. He was always busy with work, he worked for his father in his free time, training for a high up government position.

You had spoken to him briefly at meals but you really just didn’t know what to say to him, how to talk to him when at the same meals he agreed with everything his father said about politics, most of which you silently disagreed with.

Politics wasn’t everything but in a political marriage it meant a lot.

So you had been left alone with your thoughts mostly, you had gotten a few lessons from the publicity about how to deal with the media and lessons on the countries culture but it wasn’t really anything you hadn’t learned as the ambassadors daughter.

“I’ve thought a lot about what I want to say, I think I can really help if I speak about the attack,” you said to Chanmi. You had spent a lot of this free time thinking, thinking about how to save the political marriage, about how to save everyone around you from the fallout it would cause.

“Well then even better,” Chanmi replied smiling but the apprehension on her face at your words was clear.

So an hour later you found yourself knocking on the door of Hendery’s study.

“Come in,” he called out, you turned the door handle and pushed the door open, “I was just about to come and find you y/n,” he said.

“I was thinking about the interview,” you began, “I know the plan is for you to speak about the incident and ask that people respect me and so on, but I really think it would help if I speak for myself.”

Hendery didn’t say anything which also wasn’t an objection so you continued.

“I agreed to this marriage to avoid conflict, I don’t want to create it, I don’t want to just wait around carrying this weight of the decision I have made without even being able to speak myself on it. I want to take responsibility for the weight of my own actions.”

Hendery stood up from his chair and walked around the desk leaning back to half sit on the front so he wasn’t talking to you from so far away.

“You are braver than I will ever be,” he said, “if you want to speak for yourself then of course you can.”

“I don’t think being responsible for my choices is brave, it’s a requirement to me. You were prepared to take responsibility for our marriage too, I don’t see why you think it’s brave,” you said.

Hendery looked up at the ceiling, twisting his pen back and forth between his fingers.

“I thought if I was going to be responsible for one choice I made in my life it was going to be marrying you.”

“How so?” you asked, taking a seat in the armchair at the side of the room.

“I see how you look at me at dinner when I agree with my father and the atrocious opinions he has. You hide it well but I can tell. I agree with my father even though I know he’s wrong and that’s partly because I didn’t know how wrong he was until he forced this marriage. I realised that he had been manipulating me my whole life. He always used to say the decisions he made were for the best, for the people for me but when he made us get married I finally understood that he was just playing games.”

“Then why do you agree with him still?”

“Maybe I am a coward, maybe I still believe that he wants whats right deep down but I don’t really believe either of those to answers. I just don’t see the benefit in disagreeing with him.” He explained.

“If you did then maybe he would question his own opinions,” you suggested, “hearing it from his own son.”

“His own son who he would marry off just to win a political game. I can’t win against my father but if I obey him I can try and make some good, marrying you will do good in the long term, even if it is part of his game, so that is what I choose to be responsible for because I believe in the power of it.”

You could hear the pain in Hendery’s voice as he spoke but also the determination. You started to understand him a bit more.

“Maybe he wins the short game, but we will win the long game,” you said, Hendery looked about to ask you to elaborate but you didn’t let him, “Interview time,” you got up and opened the door, “time to pretend you love me.”

*******************

You looked in the mirror just before you went to sit next to Hendery on the set, your makeup was perfect, your hair done, you looked amazing. You had gotten rid of the flowery dresses that you loved for this interview though, today you wore a tailored suit, today you were going to show the country you meant business.

You sat down uncomfortably closer to Hendery but you knew it would look weird if you had sat half a foot away.

The interviewer was a woman who didn’t seem to like you very much as she scowled at you but you didn’t let it affect you. You answered all her questions about your ‘love story’ and smiled up at Hendery as you told the gushing details.

“So what do you say to people who disagree with this relationship, clearly after the terrible act of terrorism that occurred at your engagement party it would be better for everyone if you just broke up?”

“We will not be intimidated by haters or people who write mean comments online or even despicable criminals. We love each other and we will get married. We feel our love conveys how it is possible for both our nations to come to love each other also so that senseless violence will no longer occur, to us our love is about more than just us, it is our love for each other yes, but also everyone on both sides of the border.” You answered.

“How lovely,” the reporter said with a fake smile, “well I think we know one way to appease the viewers,” she said.

“And what is that, we would be happy to oblige,” Hendery said, reminding you exactly of all the times you watched him on TV. He was too perfect on TV you found it unnerving now you had started to get to know him.

“a kiss between the happy couple to be,” she grinned. If you hadn’t known it was impossible you would have thought she knew your marriage was fake. You tried not to look alarmed, Hendery didn’t seem to be phased.

“Is that proper?” you asked, trying to see if you could wiggle your way out.

“It’s the twenty-first century I’m sure it’s fine,” the reporter said. Before you could continue to argue Hendery leaned in and placed a quick peck on your lips.

“How sweet,’ the reporter cooed, “that’s all we have time for today, thank you to Hendery and y/n for joining us, see you next Tuesday for an interview with everyone’s favourite chef.”

Your face burned red and when you looked over you saw the same blush come over Hendery’s face just not to the same degree. He thanked the reporter before grabbing your hand and pulling you up. He led you out into the open air where cameras flashed as you walked quickly towards the car.

Hendery wrapped his arm around you pushing past the reports until Jeno could open the car door allowing both of you to climb in. Once they had gotten in the row of seats behind and all the doors were shut you breathed out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Hendery said quickly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I just…” You shook your head.

“No its fine, I’m not mad at you I just struggle with the situation as you already know.”

Considering Sicheng, Jeno and the driver were all also in the car neither of you took the conversation any further until you had gotten out of the car and were standing in the empty kitchen drinking water.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t like you,” you said to Hendery, “you’re a really nice person and if we had met under any other circumstance…”

It was Hendery’s turn to shake his head,

“You don’t need to explain.”

“I want to. You told me your feelings earlier I will return the favour.” You took a sip of your water, your mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

“I always knew I would end up marrying for political advantage, I never let myself like boys, not that I had the chance to meet any, I just thought maybe I would have a pick of three or something.” You stopped yourself, “Sorry again I really don’t mean that as an insult to you.”

“No I get what you’re saying…” he thought for a second, “That wasn’t your first kiss, oh I’m so sorry if it was… live on TV as well.”

You laughed.

“Don’t worry not quite the first, I kissed Jeno once actually a few years ago to see if we had feelings for each other, we realised very quickly we didn’t, we were mostly just bored I guess.”

You knew the same wasn’t true for Hendery, while he wasn’t as bad as Lucas he still had a reputation for girls leaving his hotel room at 3am. While you had abstained from romance all together, he had gone the other way and thrust himself into meaningless sex. You understood his choice even if it wasn’t the one you made.

“So you’ve never had a boyfriend?” Hendery asked, he wasn’t judging he was just curious.

“Nope, I’ve never liked a boy and so maybe that’s why all this with you is a bit harder but it doesn’t mean I’m mad you kissed me, you had no choice and we are engaged after all.”

Hendery took a few steps towards you, putting his drink down on the table. His eyes searching your face.

“Would you be mad if I kissed you now, when I did have a choice?” He asked. You thought about to for a second, while you weren’t in love with Hendery you did find him attractive and he was a caring person and you were going to spend your life married to him. So you made a choice.

“No, I wouldn’t be mad,” you said slowly, your heart beginning to beat faster. Hendery took two more steps forward, he reached over and took your drink out from your hand placing it down on the table.

He smiled,

“I think I like you y/n,” he said, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips and before you knew it he was kissing you. Tentatively at first, clearly trying not to overwhelm you but as you began to kiss him back more urgently he followed suit, his hands tangling in your hair as your own arms slid round his waist.

It was different to when you had kissed Jeno, it was so much more enjoyable, you realised that was because you liked Hendery. It felt like your whole body was on fire as his tongue played with yours gently, when he bit down slightly on your lip you let out a soft moan causing your ears to burn red.

But it didn’t dissuade Hendery, instead he smiled into the kiss, before going back to kissing you just as passionately before, pressing you up against the kitchen wall.

A few minutes later he pulled away.

“I think if I don’t stop now we will end up somewhere we don’t wanna go just yet, we do have a lifetime,” he joked, pecking your lips again.

“I think I like you too,” you said to him, your cheeks still red as he beamed at you.

*******************

You started to chat more to Hendery, meeting him in the garden after dinner sometimes, seeing if you were able to hide from Jeno and Sicheng, something you quickly realised was impossible.

You also quickly realised how stressful Hendery’s life was. While your father’s job had isolated you it had never been something you personally had to be involved with. Hendery’s work for his father was hard, especially on top of the university work you still both had, even if the professors were emailing it for safety reasons.

You had arranged to meet Hendery in the garden after lunch but he never arrived. You wondered around the house looking for him, eventually spotting Sicheng standing outside the library.

“Have you seen Hendery?” you enquired, Sicheng nodded his head lightly.

“He’s working in there, I guess he forgot to meet you… I wouldn’t take it personally the President is expecting a lot from him lately.” You truly felt bad for Hendery and how he was treated. All the President expected from you was to learn to sit straight, something you already learned at the age of four. The misogyny of the upper classes.

“Tell him he has to stop working by six, the doctors’ orders,” you said, “tell him to find me in the kitchen!” and before Sicheng could argue you had already raced back down the corridor to sort some things out.

You asked the people who worked in the kitchen where you could find the ingredients to make cookies, the immediately offered to make some for you but you assured them making them yourself was the point.

You stashed the cookie ingredients in the family fridge before racing off again. You had hours to set up your plan but you wanted it to be perfect so you wasted no time. If you weren’t allowed to be involved in state affairs you could at least support your fiancé who was.

Only a few doors down from your room was a little sitting room with a sofa and a tv that was seldom used. In the whole month you had spent in the house you had never seen another person in there.

One of the reasons setting everything up took so long was because you weren’t sure where things in the house were kept. You could have asked someone but you wanted it to be a secret between just you and Hendery.

So when Jeno asked why you were forcing him to run after you like a maniac you refused to give a reason.

You eventually found a cupboard where spare blankets and pillows were kept, chucking as many as possible on top of Jeno whilst picking up just as many yourself.

On the sitting room floor you laid out all the blankets and pillows until it looked as cosy as anything.

Working out how the TV worked was a half hour task in itself, it was so modern you weren’t sure how it worked or how the remote worked but eventually you found Netflix.

Sooner than you expected it you were standing back in the kitchen waiting for Hendery. He arrived not soon after at six-fifteen, his face slightly pale and a tired look on his face.

“Sorry I didn’t come meet you in the garden earlier I was just so busy…” you cut him off, placing a finger over his lips.

“No apologies, just fun relaxing activities,” you explained, pulling the cookie ingredients back out of the fridge.

It turned out neither of you had any clue how to bake but cookies were simple. Flour ended up everywhere and you couldn’t help but think how cute Hendery looked as he smiled, butter smudged on his cheek.

“We have to cook them for ten minutes, so they are still gooey,” you said, going over to the sink and grabbing a cloth, “your face is dirty come here.”

Hendery walked over to you and crouched down slightly so you could clean his face, you chuckled at how cute he was.

“All better,” you said, wiping the butter away, your eyes lingering on his cheek. Hendery caught your gaze and smiled.

“Come here you have something on your cheek too,” he said, you were confused you had checked in the reflection of the oven just a minute ago and there hadn’t been anything.

Hendery leaned in closer to your face before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. Your face blushed slightly pink as Hendery stood up straight again grinning.

“Oh maybe there was nothing there after all,” he said. You shook your head in mock disapproval, saved from your shy embarrassment by the noise of the cooker beeping.

You carefully removed the cookies from the oven and slid them into a bowl. Hendery reached in to take one but you swatted his hand away.

“You will burn yourself if you touch it now, and anyway they are for later.”

Hendery seemed confused. You didn’t bother explaining, you picked up the cookie bowl in one hand and took Hendery’s hand in your other and starting leading him to your blanket extravaganza.

You had gotten some staff to leave actual dinner in the room, you hadn’t been confident enough in either of your skills to make a whole dinner, it probably wouldn’t have had the light-hearted fun vibe you were after if you ended up with raw chicken.

“Pick a Netflix movie,” you said as you settled down into the blankets, eating your food as Hendery found a movie to watch.

By halfway through the film both of you had turned your focus away from eating and solely to the movie. But without the food to think about you began to notice more how close Hendery was sitting next to you.

He seemed to be slowly moving closer and closer to you, his hand resting nearer to yours by the minute. So when the movie reached a slightly scary part you felt no shame and hiding your face in Hendery’s arm.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he said, you glared at him jokingly.

“Says the man who is scared of frogs,” you teased back. Hendery’s mouth opened wide,

“How did you, how, what?” he asked.

“I’ve been asking around about you,” you said in your best attempt to flirt. Your isolated lifestyle hadn’t given you much practise.

“You’re cute,” he observed, looking down at you, taking the opportunity to place his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, “thank you for doing this,” he said over the sound of the movie playing in the background.

“If you ever need a break just call me up, I’m nonstop fun,” you said, immediately regretting how the statement had come across more sexual than it had in your head. Hendery just grinned.

“But seriously, I can tell your stressed and so if you ever want to talk about how stressed you are or just get things of your chest, I’m willing to listen.”

Hendery sighed lightly. He didn’t speak for a while, his hand fiddling with the corner of one of the blankets, his muscles slightly tensed.

“If… If you would be happier not marrying me, I want you to tell me, I will talk to my father, I will find a way. You’re too kind and beautiful a person y/n to be stuck marrying someone for politics. I want you to be happy.”

His words shocked you but you couldn’t help smiling but not for the reason Hendery thought. You wriggled out from under his arm moving to sit directly in front of him, your legs crossed opposite where he sat, hugging his legs.

“Meeting you has been the one thing that has seemed like real life to me, even if this is an orchestrated marriage, The fact that you would be willing to talk to your father to make me happy, is the exact reason I am willing to try marrying you. Even if there is another way, I still choose this way.”

Hendery still looked conflicted.

“But what if, in the future, you don’t feel the same way, you regret making this choice, choosing me?” he asked.

“While I still don’t consider this marriage a choice, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t chose to date you under different circumstances. And you are correct, I cannot see the future and someday I may not feel how I feel now. But I know two things that are true. One is that your father is unlikely to listen to you no matter what and so this marriage is still necessary. Two, right now the thought of marrying you doesn’t scare me, it makes me somewhat happy, even if the circumstance doesn’t. Even if marriage for us is like dating for others, I chose right now to take responsibility for not even letting you try to convince your father.”

You looked straight into Hendery’s eyes. The hope that you saw appear in his eyes was enough to make you want to cry. This marriage to Hendery, the chance to make you happy, it was his hope, the only hope he felt he had of doing something positive.

Your marriage to Hendery was going to bring good to the world, to his world and your own. You knew that was something to be proud of, you knew that you wanted to love him.

You kissed his lips briefly before pulling away again.

“You should sleep,” you encouraged him, “you are handsome but tired looking.”

“It would be a better sleep if you slept with me,” he joked with a wink. You pushed him lightly on the shoulder.

“Whilst I may have kissed someone before you, I have not shared a bed with a guy before and will not be starting today,’ you asserted. Hendery nodded, getting up,

“Well my door is always open, I’m a great at cuddles.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly.

“Goodnight y/n,” he said, “I will sleep better dreaming of you.”

You blushed in the darkness of the room as he walked away. The man was to charming for his own good.

*******************

You saw it on the news first,

“Breaking story, five tourists from our neighbouring country have been arrested on suspicions of undisclosed crimes, they are currently being held by the state government, a decision that is being viewed with mixed reactions.”

You stood up, your first instinct to go to Hendery’s study and ask him if he knew what was going on.

But when you tried to leave your room you found it looked from the outside, something you hadn’t known was possible. You began to bang on the door, shouting at whoever had locked it on the other side, but to no avail.

You eventually sat back down and turned the news back on, having no other real plan of action. The news revealed that the tourists had supposedly robbed a bank but it was an accusation you were very suspicious of.

You tried ringing Hendery but every time the phone went straight to voicemail and you didn’t bother leaving a message. You tried searching the internet but you didn’t have a 3G signal and the Wi-Fi seemed to be broken.

You rang your mother next to ask if she knew anything, she said that all she knew was that there had been no bank robbery and they were being held as political leverage. You wanted to scream, you picked up the closet item to you, a shoe, and threw it as hard against the wall as possible.

At the same time you heard the lock on the door turn and Sicheng enter,

“Are you all right?” he asked, “I heard a bang.” You couldn’t believe Hendery’s personal guard was the one keeping you locked up.

“Why can’t I leave?” you asked, “Why won’t Hendery pick up my calls?”

“The President doesn’t want to risk the chance you could talk to the press… as for Hendery I don’t know… as soon as he heard what was about to happen he insisted I tell Jeno we swapped guarding duty for the day.”

After seeing you were okay Sicheng left again, locking the door once he was outside. You wanted to believe that Hendery played no role but the changing of the guards so that Jeno couldn’t let you out was suspicious.

A few hours later Sicheng opened the door and passed you some food into the room but you felt too sick to eat. What was the point of the marriage if it didn’t even keep your country people safe.

Finally your phone rang, Hendery was calling you back. You wanted to ignore it out of spite but you knew the situation was more important than that.

“What the fuck Hendery,” was all you said when you picked up.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“Don’t be sorry, just explain to me what the actual fuck is going on here.”

“My father will let them go… he just needs your father to agree to one of the more controversial trade terms. I asked him not to do this, I really tried but,”

“You didn’t have to get Sicheng to guard me,” you countered. Hendery paused for a second.

“I… I just don’t want my father to get angry at you, Jeno would have let you leave and then he would have been fired and my father… he would have made life harder for you and your country,” he tried to explain.

“I’m not seven Hendery I can make my own choices. Your choice to ensure I’m locked up means you don’t trust I won’t do anything stupid any more than your father would.”

You were really angry, to an extent you understood Hendery’s motivations, you understood he was trying to help you. Yet you also disagreed with his methods and you were angry he didn’t trust you.

“I’m smart enough to know that talking badly about your father to the press wouldn’t help achieve what we are trying to with this marriage…” you didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

“I’ll send Jeno back,” Hendery said, his voice barely a whisper, “I never want to upset you y/n that will never be my goal, I know your intelligent, probably more so than me. My father is a scary man and I let my fear of him overpower my trust in you and for that I really do apologise.”

“If you look into your own heart, and you find nothing wrong there, what is there to worry about? What is there to fear?” you replied.

“Is it really time to quote Confucius?” Hendery asked. You smiled to yourself.

“I was just proving I really am intelligent, and anyway I mean it, you are a good person Hendery, trust me, yourself, our marriage will outlast your father and then maybe things can change.”

“My closest ally on the advisory board thinks they will release the prisoners tomorrow and call the situation a misunderstanding, just wait until then,”

“Goodnight,” you said before hanging up the phone. You were still angry, but not at Hendery. You had never made a habit of disliking people never mind hating them, but the President was a man you really hated.

The next afternoon at around 4pm the tourists were released and a short statement was made about a cultural misunderstanding. One the President hoped would not be repeated in the future after the joining of the two nations.

You wanted to stab him through the TV, but why waste a perfectly good TV.

You heard a small knock at the door, you thought it was Jeno telling you that you could come out now, roam free, inside the prison of a house.

Instead stood Hendery, eyes as tired as ever, his face as defeated as your own. He said nothing, merely walked over to where you were perched at the end of your bed and sat down.

He opened his mouth to speak but you shook your head.

“Nothing we can say makes it better, so it’s better to say nothing at all,” you said, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him towards you. For those few minutes where you just hugged him you thought of nothing. You worried about nothing, you just felt the peace that holding him close brought you.

*******************

“You look beautiful,” Jaemin said to you, you think it was the nicest comment he had ever said to you, it was your wedding day after all, “I’m still sad you wouldn’t let me be a bridesmaid.”

You resisted the temptation to chuck some hairpins at him. You hadn’t thought your bodyguards would have looked good in dresses so you had convinced Hendery to make them the other three of his five groomsmen along with Sicheng and Lucas.

“I think Chanmi looks prettier in pink,” you replied, which was only followed by more protests of ‘”she’s wearing blue, not pink,”- a technicality.

Speaking of Chanmi,

“Five minutes,” she called out. You pushed your earrings in, your hands trembling slightly as you got up and saw yourself standing in front of the mirror dressed in white. The gown was beautiful, expensive, everything you could have dreamed of.

You felt so sick. Jeno walked over and grabbed your hand. He was going to walk in front of you the whole way with Chanmi, the male bridesmaid Jaemin wished he could be.

Chanmi held your other hand and squeezed tightly, reassuring you as they led you down the stairs and out to the car in which your father was waiting. Jeno sat in the front as Chanmi gathered up your dress, making sure it all fit in the car before sitting down beside you.

“What a beautiful day for it,” your father remarked. You nodded back but didn’t open your mouth to speak, you thought you would throw up if you did.

The car drove on in silence, you clutched at some vow cards Chanmi had prepared for you. Reaching over and rolling down the window you chucked them out.

“I’ll just wing it,” you said to her horrified glance, but she never let go of your hand.

The car pulled up outside the church moments later, you could hear the low murmur of the guests inside as Jeno opened the door and helped you out.

Sicheng who was waiting by the door for the rest of the groomsmen looked less anxious to see they had actually arrived just in front of you. They headed inside the church as you tried your best not to hyperventilate outside on the church steps.

“Being your best friend has been my honour,” Jeno said to you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. Through your panic you still managed to look up at him confused.

“You will always be my best friend, getting fake married doesn’t change that,” you replied. Jeno held both of your hands,

“You are not getting fake married though, it may not be a marriage of love but it is a real marriage and for that reason I really hope for you, that he becomes your best friend, that he can take my place and support you like I always have. We never loved each other like that but I hope he loves you like that because you will always be my almost sister and I love you. Don’t be afraid, you’re saving a nation, be proud, and love him too,” he said, a tear fell from your cheek, “no crying, someone worked hard on that makeup.”

You let go of his hands and hugged him.

“I love you too almost bro,” you said as the wedding march began to play and some flower girls that you didn’t even know entered through the doors. Chanmi ran over and gave you a quick hug.

“You will rule the world one day y/n,” she laughed as she let go, handing Jeno a bouquet as they both walked in after the flower girls.

Just you and your father were left, you wiped the tear from your cheek and walked over to him, putting a smile on your face. You could tell he was already sad, you didn’t want to make it worse.

“Time to get married,” you whispered, linking your arm with his and staring onwards.

The doors opened and you stared down the aisle in front of you. You saw Jaemin, Renjun and Chenle standing next to Sicheng and Lucas on the stage. You saw the reverend, you saw your mother, Jeno and Chanmi sitting in the front row, you saw the president and his wife sitting on the other side.

Finally your eyes focused on him as you got closer, step by step.

The sickness you had once felt, gone, the moment you locked eyes with him. His eyes held the same trepidation as yours but the shone through the church as he looked at you.

Your father let go of your arm, kissing your check, before you took Hendery’s hands instead.

The reverend read out a whole spiel but you weren’t really listening, you just stared up at Hendery, trying your best to focus on him and not falling over.

“Today, I promise you this: I will laugh with you in times of joy, and comfort you in times of sorrow. I will share in your dreams and support you as you strive to achieve your goals. I will listen to you with compassion and understanding, and speak to you with encouragement. Let us be partners, and friends, today and all of the days that follow,” Hendery said. His words were the first ones you had really heard.

You took a sharp breath inwards realising it was your own turn to speak.

“I had prepared something to say, but I wanted to speak from the heart instead. I promise to do my best to love you and live harmoniously with you as long as we both shall live, to take on the challenges life gives us together. I hope that our marriage can serve as a sign of peace and that the world can feel compassion as deeply as I know you feel it,” you said.

“Do you, y/n y/l/n, take Hendery Wong to be your lawfully wedded husband,” the reverend asked,

“I do,” you replied, your voice thankfully not shaking.

“Do you, Hendery Wong, take y/n y/l/n to be your lawfully wedded wife,”

“I do,” he said, staring down at you with a smile.

“I know pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride,” he said and so Hendery leaned down, kissing you. Only for a few seconds, there were children present, but it was enough to make you blush.

You pulled Hendery into a hug and whispered in his ear,

“I wish I could have chosen to marry you,” you said. Hendery shook his head, still smiling for the crowd.

“I’m feel lucky to get to marry you y/n, whatever the circumstance,” he said, causing you to genuinely smile. Hendery let go from your hug and threw your clasped hands in the air as you walked back down the aisle and out of the church.

The reception was actually quite dull to start off with, you had to greet many political figures, most of whom you didn’t personally know, there was also the ordeal of extended family which hardly ever went well for anyone.

It got a bit better when Lucas and Jaemin got so drunk they started to perform karaoke standing on tables as Chenle cried with laughter watching.

Your first dance with Hendery had been sweet but after that you and Hendery had mostly decided to sit at the side together, exhausted by the whole affair.

By about midnight your head was resting on Hendery’s shoulder as you began to doze off, partly from tiredness, partly from alcohol. Hendery chuckled at how cute you looked.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, about to pick you up when you insisted you could walk. Hendery put his arm around your waist, supporting your drunk figure as he lead you to the elevator. You walked along the corridor before he pulled out the key card, letting you both into the presidential suite.

It had two bedrooms and so he walked you towards the bigger one, helping you sit down on the bed.

Chanmi and Sicheng had made sure you both had stuff there and so she had left you a pair of pyjamas to get changed into. Hendery handed them to you and turned around so he didn’t see you getting changed.

“I can’t do the zip,” you complained, tapping Hendery on the shoulder.

“oh yeah right sure,” he said, turning back around and unzipping it for you, blushing when you pulled the dress down before he could turn around again.

“Don’t be silly, we are married,” you said, making fun of him in your drunken haze.

“Doesn’t mean I cant still respect you,” he said, “I’ll go get changed myself and come back in a sec okay?” he said to which you nodded. You took your underwear off and replaced them with the white satin pyjamas Chanmi had left.

Hendery walked back in with a matching pair. You went and brushed your teeth together before Hendery urged you to climb into bed.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said about to leave before you sat up and stopped him.

“Married couples sleep in the same bed,” you protested.

“You’re drunk, y/n, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Snuggling is definitely fine,” you said, something which Hendery struggled to argue with. He put his phone down on the bed side table and shuffled in beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

“I think I could get used to this,” he said, his chin resting on your shoulder. You rolled over to face him.

“You have a good face,” you said. Hendery burst out laughing,

“You’re so cute,”

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

“So this was your tactic then,” Hendery laughed back, placing a small kiss on your lips, “try and sleep y/n,”

Your face became sad,

“Do you not want to sleep with me?” you asked.

“I’m here, I’m going to sleep right next to you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You shook your head.

“No sleep with me sleep with me,” you clarified, your words slurring together. Hendery’s eyebrows furrowed. When he saw your sad expression through the darkness he smiled slightly, laughing.

“It’s not a question of wanting to, you’re beautiful and I really like you y/n of course I want to do all those things with you, but I’m not having sex with you for the first time when you are drunk, when you can’t give proper consent. Especially for your first time.”

It slowly dawned on you even as drunk as you were that Hendery was much more experienced with relationships than you were, it wouldn’t have been hard.

“You don’t mind that I have never had a boyfriend before, that I have never had sex before,” you said, whispering the latter part.

“You don’t have to whisper it’s not a bad word,” Hendery laughed, “And of course I don’t mind, as I said, I’m fully committed to you and we have the rest of our lives, for now we can just cuddle and sleep okay?”

You seemed satisfied with his answer, falling asleep moments later with his arms around you and waking up the same way nine hours later.

You didn’t feel embarrassed in the morning when you remembered the conversation because Hendery didn’t make it feel like something that was at all embarrassing, he just made you feel calm and safe.

*******************

By that afternoon you were on a flight to a private island, owned by Hendery’s family. His grandfather had owned a brewery there and his own father had worked there before he became president.

Other people lived on the island, local people who would have recognised the two of you and alerted the press with photos.

So before you went to the beach you both put on ridiculously large hats and sunglasses on.

“James Bond has nothing on us,” Hendery remarked as you laughed at his stupid pineapple sunglasses.

“No one would expect the President’s son to dress like this.”

You spent the day on the beach, building a not so impressive sandcastle, jumping through the waves, splashing each other.

Once you had somewhat dried off, Hendery grabbed your hand and led you over to a little ice cream stall where an old man was selling ice cream. Hendery ordered you both one.

“You are a very cute couple,” the man remarked, “is it a special occasion?”

“It’s our honeymoon,” you replied, “we just got married yesterday.”

“Congratulations to both of you,” he said with a smile.

“That’s a rite of passage, isn’t it,” Hendery said as you walked home,

“What is?” you asked,

“Being told we are a cute couple by an older person.”

You giggled as you licked your ice cream,

“I suppose it is.”

You showered after you got back, changing into an outfit Chanmi had packed for you, the dress was lovely, the underwear choices slightly racy.

You walked out onto the patio where Hendery had laid out a fancy table for the two of you. There was a rose in the middle and he held out your chair for you to sit down.

“I have to admit, I didn’t cook the food, I didn’t think that would impress anyone,” he said.

“You don’t need to impress me, I already think you’re great,” you said, sitting down. The food really was good, but you made sure not to drink too much wine to avoid a repeat of the night before.

Your conversation died down comfortably after a while and you both took a moment to stare out at the orchard and the sea that was behind it. You really hoped you and Hendery could move to the island permanently one day. Instead of returning to the Presidential House.

You turned back to see Hendery who was staring at you, a dopey smile on his face.

“I love you,” he blurted out, your heart skipped a beat, “I wanted to say it to you yesterday but I wasn’t sure if you would remember but I love you and I hate my father sometimes but marrying you is the best thing that has happened in my life. We may have married for the sake of international relations but I love you for you.”

You smiled, standing up as he stood up and walking round to stand in front of him.

“I love you too,” you said, “after meeting you I realised I hadn’t really been living real life before, it sounds cliché but you brought colour to my lonely monocoloured life.”

You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in to kiss you,

“Will you let me have sex with you know?”

“You don’t know how long I have dreamed of this moment y/n,” he said, staring down at you with love in his eyes,

“The confession of love or the sex?” you joked,

“honestly, both,” he said laughing before bringing his lips back to yours. His lips trailing kisses down your neck before you grabbed his hand and pulled him back inside towards the bedroom.

You barely made it inside the bedroom door before he was kissing you again, your back pressed up against the wall. He gasped slightly when you moved your hands under his shirt, your finger touching his nipple briefly, before pulling off his shirt.

He reacted by unzipping your dress,

“is this okay,” he asked, not pulling it off you until you nodded,

“It’s all okay, Hendery, I want you.” It was all the confirmation he needed. He couldn’t help but admit that it turned him on, being the first and most likely the only man to ever get to touch you like this, now you were married now you were his and he was yours.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said as he unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor. One of his hands massaged your breast, the other placed against the wall as your lips met.

Your attention sprung to the growing length underneath his black jeans. You had never seen a dick before in real life.

“Take your jeans off,” you asked him slightly breathless, he was happy to oblige, pulling his jeans off over his legs.

He picked you up bridal style, literally sweeping you off your feet, before placing you back down on the bed,

“As hot as it would be I’m not gonna fuck you for the first time against a wall,” Hendery explained, you nodded,

“Less talking more touching,” you demanded, Hendery grinned a wicked grin.

“That I can do.” Before you knew it he was placing kisses up your thigh, his finger grazing over the top of your soaked panties before pulling them down and throwing them behind him. It was your first time so he knew he had to stretch you first as he inserted a single finger but it was enough to make you let out a sharp moan.

You wriggled slightly in pleasure as he began to pump his finger in and out, before you knew it he had added a second, which was slightly painful at first but at the same time you felt his tongue over your clit, moving in circles and pleasure took over.

“Shit Hendery,” you called out, you could already feel your orgasm building so when Hendery began to move his fingers faster, you let go, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“Such a good girl for me,” he said. You looked up, regaining your sense to see Hendery was still wearing his boxers. A small wet patch had formed at the end of his hard length. You sat up pushing Hendery down.

“My turn,” you said.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Hendery replied.

“But I want to.” You pulled at his waistband, letting his cock spring free. It was slightly bigger than you had imagined and defiantly not as repulsive, in fact the thought of sucking his dick made you wet all over again.

“Tell me how,” you asked him, kneeling down.

“Well start by touching me,” he encouraged, guiding your hand with his own until it was wrapped around the top of his dick, “now slide your hand down and put your mouth where your hand was.”

You leant over and placed your tongue on the tip, licking slightly before putting it into your mouth. Hendery moaned lightly as you began to suck, taking in as much of his dick as possible before moving your mouth back up,

“yeah, fuck, like that,” Hendery groaned.

You tried to take a little bit more into your mouth each time until eventually it caused you to gag slightly, at which Hendery’s dick began to twitch, you kept sucking as his breath quickened and he finally came in your mouth, cum shooting down your throat as you swallowed.

“Jesus,” Hendery said, bringing his lips to yours, the taste of his cum still on your lips, “you are something special y/n,”

He brought his hand down to your folds, checking you were still wet enough for him. He propped himself up with his arms before placing his cock at your entrance.

“Tell me if it hurts, I will go slow, I wont move until you tell me to okay and if you don’t like it we can stop.” He said.

You nodded though you doubted after the first part of the experience that you would want to stop.

When he first pushed in it did hurt, as he moved in and out slowly it stung slightly but with each small thrust the pain was replaced with pleasure. When you finally let out a moan, Hendery started to thrust deeper,

“You’re doing so well for me y/n, you’re so fucking tight,” he hissed, his own pleasure preventing him from talking further.

Neither of you were going to last long and Hendery’s dick was beginning to pulse inside of you.

“I love you,” he managed to say as he came, filling you up with his cum, the feeling of it prompting your own orgasm as you moaned his name loudly.

Hendery kissed your lips softly, hugging you for a moment, before offering to help you clean up, wiping his cum from beneath your legs softly.

“I really do love you y/n,” he said as you both settled back into bed to sleep.”

“I love you too,” you said. What had started out as a sick game between politicians in the name of peace had ended up as something beautiful, as love.

*******************

In the years following life wasn’t always the easiest, the President wasn’t a good man and he made life tough sometimes and you struggled, but you struggled together. You were happy with each other.

You got to know each other more every day and you fell in love more every day. You had two children together and two years after that you renewed your vows in secret with only your children and your closest friends present, to make it clear you did choose to love each other, even if you hadn’t chosen to marry each other.

Ten years later when the President died of a heart attack, came the hardest choice for you both. Most of the country expected Hendery to take over from his father, to become the next leader. He could have, he would have been a brilliant and fair President, but it wasn’t something either of you wanted, you didn’t want the dictatorship to go on. Hendery allowed the people to choose a new president, elections were held for the first time in many years.

Instead of becoming a dictator like his father Hendery moved back to the villa with the orchard with you and your two children. You went to the same beach and built sandcastles with your kids as you had on the first day of your honeymoon.

The orchard where you had both confessed your love was so beautiful. The island didn’t belong to his country or yours. It was on an island that belonged to both of you.

You bought Chanmi and Jeno the house next door, they had gotten married just three years after you, something that had brought you immense happiness. Jeno didn’t guard you anymore but you both lived close enough to watch out for each other, still the closest of friends.

Your children grew up and played together, went to school together. You lived a life that was happy. You had married to bring the world peace but you had also found peace in your heart. Marrying Hendery had once seemed like a cursed fate but really it had been the most blessed fate of all.

You didn’t think people would ever believe such a happy story could come out of an arranged marriage in which the proposal had occurred in the bathroom. It summed up you and Hendery, neither of you knew exactly why you worked but you did. From the day in the bathroom, to the night of the attack, to your marriage to then. You realised you had always seen yourself loving Hendery.

Your love was the only possible outcome.

#hendery #hendery scenarios #hendery smut #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv scenarios #hendery fluff #wayv fluff #hendery fics #wayv fics #hendery imagine #wayv imagine

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sevenkittensinatrenchcoat · 3 years

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Vienna-Based Mistos and Grizabella: Misto Becomes the Misto You Know

Once again, I find myself fascinated with the Vienna production and it’s descendants, especially when it comes to Mistoffelees. There are bits with Misto in these productions that are sometimes very similar to the 1998 VHS, but other productions don’t have them.

In the majority of productions I’ve seen, when Grizabella first appears, the first cats to respond are Coricopat and Tantomile, who hiss at her. Some productions have Mistoffelees sense her first, which all the Vienna-based ones do. But, they all do it slightly differently, with a noticeable difference between the first two (Vienna and Amsterdam) and the later two (Paris and Zurich)

Vienna:

This production started in 1983, but the recording is from 1990, near the end of the show’s run. Mistoffelees was played by the same actor, Valentin Baraian, playing him for most of the run. Occasionally, covers would step in, but he was the official Vienna Misto the whole time. So, despite the film being from 1990, it’s a characterization developed in 1983. I’m sure it evolved over time, but not in the same way as productions where the role changed hands.

I know it’s very hard to see here, but those are Misto’s hands behind Grizabella. When he first approaches her, he briefly tries to block her path, but when she insists on going forward, he walks behind her.

A cat, I’m not sure which one, runs up to Grizabella and hisses at her. Misto signals the cat to stand back. Throughout the scene, several cats approach Grizabella, some attempting to reach out to her, and others just to hiss at her or scratch her. With the former, one of the older cats will rush to stop them. Misto himself only stops the ones approaching threateningly. This means that he’s following her around to make sure that the others don’t hurt her.

After Grizabella starts singing, he tries to fend off the cats who approach her, but only the ones that do something to upset her, since she turns on them for the “you see the border of her coat is torn” line.

Conclusion: Vienna Misto is one of the adult cats, allowed to approach Grizabella and take charge while she’s there, since Munkustrap seems reluctant to do anything one way or another. But, even though he knows who she is and what she did, he personally has nothing against her and shadows her to keep her from getting hurt. Since one of the kittens succeeds in scratching her, he doesn’t seem to be very at it, but he cares enough to feel like he needs to try.

Amsterdam:

NOTE: Due to not having access to a full recording of this production, if one even exists at all, the following screenshots are taken from the clip @junkyard-gifs uploaded. As far as I can tell, the clip is from 1987.

When Misto notices Grizabella, he runs up to her and holds his arms out, blocking her path. Once again, it seems like Misto is old enough to know who she is and that she’s not welcome.

However, Grizabella will not be stopped. She just shoves him out of the way. He’s not Munkustrap. He’s not the protector. He can’t tell her what to do.

However, this shove is technically an act of violence, so Misto warns the others to stay back. She attacked him! I’m guessing this Misto is not often shoved out of the way. Some Mistos are, but not this one.

The other cats scatter and Munkustrap steps up to handle the situation. Misto is still mad about it.

Conclusion: Amsterdam Misto (Dr. Diavolo, which is an amazing name) is one of the adult cats, since he seemed to know right away that Grizabella wasn’t welcome. But, unlike Vienna Misto, who seemed to have some sort of connection to Grizabella, this Misto doesn’t like her and likes her even less after she pushes him. He seems less mature and more prideful than Vienna Misto, with his dramatic reaction to being shoved, but I get the feeling that most of the other cats would’ve behaved the same way in this situation.

Now, both of these Mistos knew who Grizabella was. In general, full adults know Griz, while the kittens and sorta-adults don’t. This is the most clear generation gap in the show. In both these productions, Misto was put on the side of the adults. This matches up with most earlier portrayals of the character. By the time Jacob Brent played him, he was a younger character, only just starting to become an adult, who comes up age by the end of the show. I’ve always been curious as to when exactly this change took place. How did we get from here:

to here:

I don’t have any pictures of Timothy Scott’s Misto and Grizabella, so this comparsion doesn’t work quite as well, but you get the idea. In the above picture, Misto is just sort of waiting to see what Grizabella does. He doesn’t know her.

Well, I think the next two entries in the Vienna Line show some of the journey from point A to point B

Paris

The recording of the Paris version is from 1990, during the last month of the show’s run. It was uploaded to YouTube by Guy-Paul de St. Germain, who played Misto in the recording, and in London shortly after, as well as in a later UK Tour.

Misto approaches Grizabella, and the film quality makes it hard to see what’s going, but what I think is going on is that Munkustrap and Misto are equally quick to react to Grizabella, but Munkustrap keeps his distance, while Misto approaches her. From what I can tell, he does so neutrally, just trying to figure out who she is.

Munkustrap doesn’t physically intervene, but he warns Misto to get away with a sharp hiss. Misto backs away and stands in the corner, where he remains for the rest of the number.

After one of the kittens (I’m pretty sure it’s Tumblebrutus) scratches Grizabella, Misto sort of leans toward her, almost taking a step in her direction. But, he looks back over his shoulder before doing anything, and whatever he sees keeps him in place. I’m guessing he was looking to Munkustrap for permission to see if she’s alright after being scratched, and was denied permission.

Conclusion: Paris Misto most likely doesn’t know who Grizabella is. He obeys Munkustrap’s instructions regarding her, but he doesn’t seem to know what to think of her. He’s concerned for her when she gets hurt, but he prioritizes Munkustrap’s orders over that concern. The general tone is very similar to the VHS, though 1998 Misto started glaring at Grizabella, copying Munkustrap, instead of just following his instructions.

Zurich

The Zurich footage is from a 1992 bootleg. In 1992, Misto was being played by Lindsay Chambers, who’d go on to play him on Broadway for a few years. He was playing Misto on Broadway when Jacob Brent was cast as Pouncival, so this is where Brent’s Misto starts to connect to Vienna-based Mistos.

When Misto starts dancing to the reprise of Tugger’s song, he gets really into it and Grizabella shows up right behind him, making it seem like he nearly crashes into her. When he sees her, he just stops and stares. He doesn’t react at all. He just waits to see what she’ll do.

Even though he’s not doing anything, Grizabella treats him like Amsterdam Misto, pushing him out of her way. Since Amsterdam Misto was actually blocking her path, it made sense for her to do that, but here it’s just rude! He doesn’t know who she is and made no move against her. If she wants a cat to welcome her back into the tribe, he probably would’ve done it. But it seems like Zurich Grizabella is focused on getting to Munkustrap. She wants to talk to the one who’s in charge.

Like in the Paris version, when Grizabella is scratched, Misto steps towards her. But, Zurich Misto is quick to stop himself. He doesn’t need Munkustrap to tell him to stay away, though Munkustrap is right there. I can’t tell if he’s glaring at Misto or glaring at Grizabella, because of Bootleg Quality. But, if Munkustrap isn’t glaring at Misto, Misto just decided to stop by himself, probably remembering getting pushed out of the way. Grizabella really lost herself an ally here. From other scenes in this version, I’ve noticed that Zurich Misto often doesn’t seem to understand the social rules of the tribe and gets in trouble frequently. In the very next scene, Skimble will stop him from pulling Bustopher’s tail, but he’ll insist on doing it anyway, so even if the rules are explained to him, he still might break them if he really wants to. He’d go against the tribe to support Grizabella if he felt like he had a reason to. But, because she pushed him, his first impression of her is negative, so if the rest of the tribe says she’s bad, he’ll go along with it.

Zurich Grizabella confuses me, basically.

Conclusion: Like in Paris, Zurich Misto is not a full adult. He doesn’t know who Grizabella is and reacts to her neutrally at first. The key difference is that he doesn’t go against Grizabella because that’s what the adults are doing, but in direct response to her actions. Compared to both Paris and the VHS, Zurich Misto isn’t quite as invested in pleasing authority figures. He wants the Important Cats to like him, but he’s more willing to go against them.

So, my theory about How Misto Became 1998 Misto is:

1. In different ways, both the London and Broadway productions originally characterized Misto as a full grown adult, somewhat established as a magician due to a love of showing off.

2. Most early productions had a similar characterization for Misto, including the Vienna production.

3. The Paris production seemed to be where things began to change. One of the actors who played Misto, either Tibor Kovats or Guy-Paul de St. Germain started playing the character differently. This might’ve been because of the decision to have Mistoffelees dance with Victoria. London’s Admetus and Broadway’s Tumblebrutus were established as kittens around Victoria’s age. If Misto was out of her age range, it would be kind of weird. This wouldn’t stop the London production from pairing her with Alonzo in its later years, but whatever. So, Misto was aged down to be only as old as they could get away with if they wanted to pair him with Victoria, even if it was just for one dance, since a lot of productions don’t have Victoria interact with her dance partner much outside of the dance itself. Mistoria shippers can make a thing out of it and everyone else can not make a thing out of it, because it works either way.

4. The Zurich production also paired Mistoffelees with Victoria for the dance, so they might’ve aged him down for similar reasons. Like in Paris, Tibor Kovats played Misto in this version early on. I don’t have any footage of him in the role, but he’s what really connects Paris and Zurich, so this Misto characterization might’ve come from him. If not, Guy-Paul de St Germain and Lindsay Chambers had very similar ideas for what to do with the character, with just enough difference that it could just be a coincidence.

5. Guy-Paul de St Germain played Misto in London, bringing this new characterization into that production.

6. Lindsay Chambers played Misto on Broadway, bringing this new characterization into that production. Future Mistos of both London and Broadway would be more likely to base their portrayals on these Vienna-based Mistos.

7. When Jacob Brent was cast as Pouncival on Broadway, Lindsay Chambers was playing Misto. Jacob learned the part while Chambers was playing it, and when it was his turn to play Misto, he also played him as a young tom coming of age.

And he was very good at it.

8. Jacob Brent played Mistoffelees in the 1998 VHS. When the show closed in London and on Broadway, the 1998 version became the version that most people saw first, so a generation of future Mistos learned his characterization, so it became the one that remained popular into the present day.

And that’s probably where Baby Misto comes from.

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creepycatboyz · 3 years

Text

"Scary Monsters" Marble Hornets Tim/Brian Fanfiction

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33361528/chapters/83235640

Chapter 2: Reunited at once

Ever since he was free from the grasp of the Operator, he could properly breathe out and not having the feeling of being watched. He yearned for this feeling for years. Medication helped, but he could never shrug off the slight feeling of being watched. He absolutely hated it, as he loved to keep his privacy. He had gotten sick and tired of Jay coming back to dig through the stuff of Marble Hornets, he just wanted to forget that, especially after his best friend has gone missing after Alex and him went to film a scene.

After everything had progressively gotten worse, the lack of medication he had to fend off the Operator with, he had enough. Someone in a beige-yellow hoodie, with a badly sewed on frowny face, has been stealing his medication, and that pissed him off so bad. Tim needs them, not this random person. Eventually he confronted the person, ran after them and surely accidently killed them. He's still not over this, he goddamn killed someone! Was it technically self-defense? Probably not. At least he could've called an ambulance, but he just left with the stolen pills they left in their pocket.

It's been a month, since he packed up the little things he had and left as far as he could. A relative of his offered him a relatively big cabin, where he can stay so he can settle down and calmly search for a job. He told this member the least amount of information, as he didn't want to freak them out or call him crazy.

Smoking a cigarette, this habit having never left his mind, he calmy gazed at the surrounding trees of his cabin. He's not completely engulfed in the woods, but it would be slightly hard to find the way if you don't know it. Which Tim appreciates, as he doesn't really want to talk to people, or be disturbed while he's doing his own thing. He likes his privacy, especially after he had no feeling of being watched. Usually he would be staying as far as possible from forests, as it always reminds him of the operator, but now he grew quite fond of the nature around him. He loves to watch birds pick berries from the nearby berry bushes, sometimes other small animals run around in the evening trying to find something to eat. At times he leaves out some food, a little bit further away from his cabin so they won't come back, to feed the animals around here. If he can't currently take care of a dog, he can at least fed the wild animals around here. He still kept his old phone number, as first off, he only gave it to Brian and Jessica, but never the others. He rarely talked to them outside of filming anyways, and honestly, he doesn't want them to contact him. He's done with the Operator, done with these scary monsters that should stay childhood fears.

The calm moments that were just now, were interrupted by a loud ring from his quite old phone. It looks a bit broken, but it still does his job! He lazily threw the cigarette he was smoking on the floor and crushed it with his shoe. Curiously he walked over to his phone and answered the call.

"Hello?", his voice a bit hoarse, due to smoking just a moment ago. "This is Dove's care hospital, am I speaking to Timothy Wright?", a female voice from the other end came. He grimaced at hearing his first name but soon thought to himself: 'A hospital? Why would a hospital call me from all the other possbilities?' "Yeah, this is Tim, is there something wrong?", he asked, confused on why he was even called in the first place. "A certain Brian Thomas had you on his contacts, in case something happened to him. His family was also on the list, but we couldn't reach them." Hearing his best friends' name his heart dropped, he couldn't even believe it. His lips let out a small whimper before he tried to compose himself. "I- Uh.. I will get there. It'll take some hours 'til I get there though. Around 5 hours", as he was saying that he already began to pack up some money, pills, snacks and spare clothes. The receptionist noted that down and told him Brian is in a stable situation, but has no memory on what had happened. As soon as he heard which room he was in he said goodbye and immediately hung up. He rushed to lock his door leaving immediately.

Right as he got in his car he couldn't even properly focus on the road, due to him being so overwhelmed with emotions. He for real thought his friend was gone! He hasn't heard from him for ages and he only noticed it was off ever since he moved out after Jay tried to dig through the old recordings. He secretely saved the old tapes, Jay posted, of him and Brian, those are the only recent memories he even had of him. Childhood memories of course stayed, but with those memories he also has to look back to the Operator, who tormented him since he was little. While he was driving, he was trying so hard not to cry, mostly due to happiness, he missed him so much. He wished he noticed sooner, but he was completely trying to forget everything, anything to get away from the monster. The amount of happiness overshadowed the dread he was feeling driving closer to Tuscaloosa, his hometown, where all the trouble happened.

Arriving in Tuscaloosa gave him this familiar feeling of being watched. If the Operator felt any joy, he would be feeling it right now, seeing his victim return once again. He won't give him the satisfaction, as he swallowed the pills he had taken with him. The closer he drove to the hospital, the gaze of the Operator started to fade away and he let out a sigh of relief. He wants to get Brian out of this hellhole, where both of them can be safe, from the monster and Alex. He didn't mind Alex if he's honest, he seemed pretty neat, but after the filming of Marble Hornets, he just started acting weird. The Operator can sure do a lot of damage to people, Tim himself is a example for that, but he's slowly getting better. He hopes Alex can also get the help, but he doubts it, as Alex went as far as to attempt murder.

He parked near the hospital and as soon as he stepped out of the car, he felt nervous. What should he even say to Brian? Oh hi, I didn't realize you were missing, because my brain was in constant fear due to some tall thin monster with no face? Yeah, that sure will be believable. He shook his head and made his way towards the hospital. As he entered he went to the reception and told them he's visiting Brian Thomas as he was on his contacts if something ever happened to him. Tim already knew which room he was in as he kept repeating it on the way there in his head, but he wanted to make sure and let the receptionist know that he arrived.

Room 52. He anxiously glanced in the direction of the hall where the numbers from 50 til 60 were. He composed himself and made his way to number 52. He can do this, it's just his best friend, well he hopes they still are. Oh god, what if they aren't anymore? He still cares about him so much. As he stood in front of the door, it took him some moments to gain the courage to knock twice.

A faint 'yeah' could be heard from inside the room and he immediately started to panic. He tried to shake off the feeling, which took a bit longer than he wanted. After having his usual calm expression, he opened the door and walked in, closing the door behind him quietly. What he saw beforehim, was a Brian bandaged up everywhere where he could see him and a cast on his left arm. Confused on how he even got hurt that badly, he was speechless. His friend had a tired expression, but still the warm smile he always had. "Hey Tim, how's it goin'?", Brian spoke, his voice clear, yet a bit quiet and hoarse.

Tim walked closer to him and took a seat on the chair on Brian's right side. "Quite good actually unlike you", he teased and glanced at his bandaged up body and arm. The light haired male rolled his eyes, but still had a grin on his face. "Yeah, no clue what happened. One day I was filming with Alex for Marble Hornets, which is still a stupid name, and ta-da next thing I know I woke up in a hospital. Amnesia I guess?", he chuckled, resting his head on the hospital pillow. "Probably the meds, or you hit your head bad", the darker haired man suggested. Brian shrugged with his right shoulder, as he couldn't with his other.

"I was actually in a coma for around a month, just woke up 2 days ago, I was barely awake though. They tried to call my family, but that didn't work, so today they called you", he explained and he sounded happy about the fact that they called Tim. "I'm glad you came" The smile his best friend gave him, made his heart simply melt, he had a slight tooth gap, which he always thought was pretty adorable. "I missed you dude, I had no clue that something had happened, I wish I knew sooner", that made Tim frown, as he wished he could've been there for his friend, but he just moved away, leaving everything behind, even his best friend.

Brian chuckled and shook his head. "It's alright, you showing up is enough for me" That made Tim smile, and he leaned back into the chair. For a few moments there was an awkward silence between the two, just being in eachother's presence was enough for both of them. The thought of the Operator crept up in the dark haired man and he had to break the silence. "So, when are they going to release you?", he asked, looking at his friend. Brian thought for a moment and scratched his chin, which had a unkept beard. "Uh, maybe two weeks? At most, I would have to do check-ups at the doc though", with that he just shrugged with his one shoulder.

Okay Tim, now you have to ask him if he wants to live with you, that doesn't sound weird, but how will he explain the reason why? Brian doesn't believe in this Operator nonsense, he hasn't been affected by it, at least he couldn't tell.

"I- This is gonna sound weird and it will probably make no sense to you, but do you want to move together with me?", the best way for Tim to ask Brian is just talking to him directly. Brian stared at him for a moment and furrowed his brows, but then grinned. "I mean, it would be refreshing to finally live outside Tuscaloosa, so I wouldn't mind, I'd have to get my old stuff though" He stopped and his eyes widen, he immediately tried to sit right up, making him only groan in pain. Even that didn't stop his panicked talking. "Oh god, I hope they didn't kick me out! I haven't paid rent, in like what? 2 months!"

Oh shoot, Brian has been missing for more than 2 months, at least 6 months? Hell, he himself can't even remember. Trying to calm him down he placed his hand on his healthy shoulder rubbing it gently "Slow down, tiger, how about I check your place out and discuss it with your landlord?" The light brown haired man took calm breaths and nodded. "I should probably call them too, seems more personal" Tim thought for a moment if this was a good idea, probably? Then they would get the amount of months he had been missing... Brian would be hella confused though. "My phone's over there", while he said that he pointed towards a table with his belongings they found him with.

Tim nodded, standing up and walking towards the phone only to realize it has been completely thrashed, as if it fallen out of his pocket as he tripped or something. He inspected the phone and awkwardly turned to Brian, who was watching him in anticipation. "Your phone is completely thrashed man", that's the only thing he could say, holding up the phone that doesn't even turn on, with a completely shattered screen. Brian's face immediately became a frown. "Uhh, well. Shit, I also don't know her phone number. My brain is a complete mess..." Tim smiled and walked over to him ruffling his already messy hair, which made the other man pount slightly. "I'll just drive by there and tell the situation, m'kay? And what if I bring you some good lunch after I am done, so you can finally eat some proper food?" At the mention of food, Brian immediately got excited. "I've only been awake for a few days, but these meals are a real pain. You're the best, dude", he grinned widely.

With that, Tim made his way towards Brian's old apartment, trying to find his landlady. Brian mentioned her name being Margaret something and she was really sweet. He walked around the complex and saw her name on one of the name cards on where to ring. What he didn't expect is for an old lady to open the door, huh, the worst she could do to Brian is pinch his cheeks to death he guessed. He always hated his cheeks getting pinched when they visited his grandparents, he would get very annoyed and his cheeks would be red. "Hello, are you Margaret, the landlady?", he asked, looking at her. She nodded and smiled. "Ah, yes, I am the owner of this apartment complex. Is there something you need?" Her smile was warm and welcoming, she looked like a kind soul. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah, it's about a friend of mine, he rented an apartment here? Brian Thomas, tall, lanky, brown blondish hair?" he asked. At the mention of his name and then the further description her eyebrows raised. "Mr Thomas... I haven't seen him quite a while. He also hasn't been paying rent for the last... eight months or so? Is he alright?" He expected her to be angy, but he was only met with a look of concern.

Tim scratched the back of his neck. "Well, he was in a coma for a month or so and I came to visit him today, because family couldn't. I have no clue what happened to him, but he's very sorry for not being able to pay rent" The old lady scoffed and shook her head. "Tell that boy he shouldn't worry. His furniture is still in his apartment and he can still live here, but with rent. He doesn't have to pay it back, but he should properly take care of himself!" he nodded, paying close attention to every word she's saying. "I'll take care of him, as me and him will move together out of state..." As soon as those lips left his mouth, she started to talk. "Do you want me to call a move truck? My son has one, and he would be glad to help"

The dark haired man just blinked for a few moments and nodded. "Uh, sure? How much would that be, I have some spare money", he chuckled slightly. "Oh, you could fetch me some groceries from the store that is all" Well, he really struck gold with this lady, she's so nice even though, Brian hasn't paid rent in a long time. Surely they had a really good friendship, if she's so worried about him. Tim nodded and asked for the shopping list, which he got. She even wanted to give him the money for the groceries, but he avoided that, persisting that he will pay that out of his own pocket as it isn't too much. He thanked her and told her he will be back soon enough and left to get the groceries and some good food for Brian and him, as he hasn't eaten anything since he came to Tuscaloosa.

Back at the hospital, after delivering the groceries to the old lady, he handed over Brian a turkey sandwich with a sunkist soda. "You still remember my favorite sandwich and drink?", his eyes shined as he unpacked the sandwich with his one hand, immediately munching on it. He opened the can for him, which gained him a grin from his best friend. He also sat down on the chair on his right side, eating his own sandwich, which had tuna. How fast Brian was able to eat, still baffled Tim, he devoured the sandwich in less than one minute. "That was good", was the only thing Brian said, sipping on his sunkist. For the rest of the afternoon, they talked about various things, but mostly enjoyed eachothers presence. After it started to become slightly dark, Tim said goodbye, going to arrange the moving truck and all the other stuff, so everything is ready, when he's released from the hospital

#marble hornets #fanfiction #marble hornets fanfiction #tim x brian #masky #brian thomas #tim wright

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tellatennie · 4 years

Text

Bakugou x Soulmate!Reader

Hi! This is my first Tumblr post! Not my first time writing but it wont be as awesome as everyone else on Tumblr but I hope you like it! Im still figuring some mechanics of Tumblr out first so let me know if I mess any technical stuff up :)

~~~~~~~~

SOULMATE AU: Reflecting in the mirrors is the appearance of your soulmate

(Y/N): age thirteen

”mommmm can you come here for a minute?” I call out of the open bathroom door. I’m freaking out. I looked in the mirror one second and it was fine then the next moment it’s reflecting a boy with spiky ash colored hair and not me.

“Yes sweetheart?” My mom said walking next to me. “Who's....that” I say; pointing at the mirror. She smiles at me.

”Is it not you?” I shake my head. “Then that’s your soulmate” I look up at her. “My... soul..mate?” She crouches down to meet my very short height.

“You see, everyone has someone that’s perfect for them. Someone that you can be best friends with and hopefully marry” She stands up and looks in the mirror. “Everyone that has a soulmate sees that person in the mirror instead of themselves. I see your father, and your father sees me.” I make an o shaped mouth and nod.

“So my soulmate sees me in their mirror?” I ask. She nods. I glance back to the mirror and leave the bathroom.

Meanwhile, about a 30 minute drive away (No POV)

”What the HELL” A young boy yells.

“Language!” His mom screams. “WHY THE HELL IS THERE A PERSON IN MY MIRROR” He heard his mom stomp up the stairs. “What are you blabbering about?” She glared at him from the doorway.

“There’s a fucking person in the mirror” He deadpans to his mother. She squeals and runs over and hugs him. “Wha- GET OFF ME YOU OLD HAG” She smiles at him and smacks him upside the head. “That’s your soulmate!”

”..my whAT?” She explains to him the details of having a soulmate without yelling more than 3 times. (Sorry, I'm lazy) The boy somewhat glares at the mirror as his mom leaves.

”Stupid fuckin system makin that extra my “soulmate”” he mumbles to himself while walking away.

BRRRINNGGG BRRRINNGG (Your POV)

I groan and hit my alarm clock. Today was the first day of school at U.A and I did not want to get out of bed. I slumped the top of my body and slowly slid off my bed onto the floor (we have all done that) I get dressed into my uniform and walk into my bathroom. I stare at the ‘reflection’ of the once young boy that turned into a handsome young man that you call your soulmate. I figured he was about the same age as me but I could always be wrong. My mom has to do my hair every morning due to me not being able to see myself anymore other than pictures.

After she did my hair I bid her farewell and walk out the door, excited for what the first day of school will bring.

I stare at the somewhat H shaped building. My jacket hood pulled over my head, I walk into the school and search for my classroom. I made a few friends during the entrance exam, like Kirishima, Mina, and Ochaco. So at least I knew I would have friends.

I walk into my designated classroom and immediately get tackled by Mina.

“(Y/N)!” I let out a laugh and pat her back to get off me.

”Hey Mina, can’t breathe” She got off of me and backed up whilst I stood up. I eye around the room and spot the people I saw at the exams. My gaze falls on a blonde guy sitting with Kirishima and a yellow haired boy. I remove my gaze and look for my seat but Im FrEaKiN oUt DuDeS.

Oh right next to him that’s great

Why am I freaking out? You probably guessed (*cough* since this is a cheesy oneshot*) . It’s the same exact boy I have seen in my mirror for the past 2 and a half years. I sit down at my seat and try not to look too much in that direction. Hoping the crimson eyes I constantly had stared into, didn’t land on me.

“Oh! Hey (Y/N)! Nice to see you got in this class too!”

God damn it Kirishima

I turn my head to him and smile “Hey Eijiro! Nice to see you too” He stands from his sitting position off the desk.

“This is Denki Kaminari” He pointed at the yellow haired boy “And this is Katsuki Bakugou” He leaned in slightly and whispered “Be careful around him, he’s a hot head” The blonde boy shot up.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY SHITTY HAIR?” The boy glanced at me and then back to Kirishima. I see him do a double-take at me and blink slightly. He quickly regains his *terrible* posture and crosses his arms and glares daggers at Kirishima.

"This is (Y/N) (L/N) by the way" He added, acting like he didn't just get screamed at. I smile slightly and wave. I feel someone hug me from behind and put their hands over my eyes. "Guess who" a very high and obviously fake voice came from behind me. I think for a second; the only person I know that would need to make their voice higher other than Kirishima would be....

"zuku!" He huffs and removes his hands and I turn around to stand up and hug him. Me and Izuku have known each other for a while, my dad is his moms brother, making us cousins. So him and I would hang out often. Just as I was about to start a conversation with him our teacher Aizawa appeared from practically nowhere and told us to take our seats.

I got a weird feeling that someone was watching me about halfway through the lesson, figuring it to be Izuku I glance at him only to find his head stuck in his notebook writing down what Aizawa said. I looked around the classroom before giving up and looking down at my desk. I still feel watched and out of the corner of my eye I see Katsuki Bakugou staring directly at me. I make eye contact with him and hold it for about 3 seconds before snapping my eyes to my notes. I see him move his head to his notebook to start writing his notes.

When class lets out for the day I organize and pack all my things together in my bag and stand up to leave when I notice a note on my desk; neatly folded into quarters. I look around the classroom and just now notice I'm the only person left in the room. I pick up the note and open it, reading it out loud.

"Meet me at the (Random Park Name: R/P/N) at five" I glanced at the clock that reads 3:45. Giving me plenty of time to go home, have a snack, get dressed and go. I don't know why I'm going, I just feel like I need to.

I walk out of my house holding the note in my hand. I walk to (R/P/N) and stand outside the entrance. I walk in and sit on one of the benches and scroll on my phone. I feel someone sit next to me but I pay them no attention. I could tell it was a guy but I didn't want to seem weird or something. He cleared his throat expectantly. I look up at him to meet the gaze of Bakugou. I feel my cheeks heat up slightly and look down at my hand holding the note.

"Um. Hi. I'm assuming you gave me the note then? Is there something you need?" I raise my head to look at him. He scoffs, "We both know we're soulmates so don't act fuckin stupid like those other idiots." He snaps.

"Alright fine. Yes we're soulmates. Why did you want to talk to me" I said, trying to act super chill about it. "Because I wanted to get to know you dumbass"

For someone as hot as you, you seem really dumb

"I could say the same thing to you gorgeous" I snap my head to him to see his eyebrows raised and him smirking. My face flushed, did I say that out loud?

Timeeeeskipppp

Me and Bakugou walked together for about 3 hours after that, just telling each other about ourselves. I learned that he is really sweet-hearted but he doesn't want people to know that so he made me swear not to say anything about it. Somehow our hands got linked together and we were sitting in a patch of dandelions on a large hill looking down at the city.

"You know I've dreamed about meeting someone as pretty as you the day you appeared in my mirror" He commented, glancing over at me. He was really good at complimenting, I've lost count of how many times he's made me blush tonight.

I leaned my head on his shoulder and asked "does this mean we're a thing now?" He let out a soft laugh and put his hand under my chin and lifting me head up. He closed the gap between us. I couldn't help but notice how soft his lips were. I leaned into the kiss, deepening it as he cupped my face. When we broke apart he rested his forehead onto mine and smiled softly at me.

"Of course we're a thing dumbass"

AHhh I'm bad at writing romantic scenes I'm sorry xD

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha #mha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha oneshots #mha oneshot

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mallowstep · 3 years

Text

some windclan notes from “i’ll believe the wind is calling me”

hnng windclan has weird amounts of info for the time between tallstar's revenge and fire and ice.

so...here's what i've done. (subject to change as needed — a few spoiler-type things are not noted.)

this is also kind of very much just a huge dump of my thoughts.

ashkit and morningkit are born a few months before deadfoot's warrior ceremony. they become apprentices before he's had his first season of being a warrior.

i've massaged the timeline best i can to put them as close to deadfoot in age as i can. i could probably push it earlier, but we know wrenflight is a season younger than deadfoot, so my choices were age gap between ashfoot and deadfoot or making wrenflight have kits really young, and i don't like either option, but i'd prefer the age gap.

so ashpaw and deadfoot start spending time together when she's a second season apprentice.

tallstar becomes leader a bit earlier than in canon, and he makes mistmouse his first deputy. (she used to be a tunneler and he wants to heal the rift in the clan.)

deadfoot mentors mudpaw — we don't have a ton of choices for canon windclan cats and i'd rather not create ocs just to kill them off if i can avoid it.

mistmouse retires just before the events of into the wild, when deadfoot takes over.

this is a canon change, because deadfoot is supposed to be deputy in bluestar's prophecy, but...he's still an apprentice when that book starts. and i've stared at the canon timeline trying to figure out where heatherstar dies and it's technically possible to make it work given how much time bsp covers, but...yeah no. it's not working out.

i'm poaching some worldbuilding from solacefruit, whom i must insist you read. notably, the general concept of hymns and fasting.

the fasting thing does not come up in ibtwicm (at least so far), but i didn't want them to have the same call as thunderclan (for reasons i'm getting to), so i gave them the call "let all cats old enough to fast..."

hymns are also a thing, although they don't rhyme. they're all technically part of one hymn, but there are different parts, and at somewhat even intervals, they'll have a hymn singing day where they sing part or all of the great hymn

courtship often starts with two cats singing a hymn together (deadfoot sings "the gorse in the wind" with ashpaw about a moon before her warrior ceremony. this is a duet, but it's not strongly associated with courtship. they have another singing day after she's been a warrior for a few moons, and they sing "the heather and earth," which is explicitly a courtship hymn.)

some hymn fragments...

Should the thunder of paws grow loud, the hare — being wiser than the rabbit, Catches on and runs, and we watch its wake.

"the hare"

In what good company have I set down roots, That even through snow fall I flower.

"the gorse in the wind" (the gorse)

i've interpretted deadfoot's foot as a varient of clubfoot and it's called "dead paw" (although hawkheart lies to hopkit and says it's called "hawk paw.")

he can put weight on it, but it's painful, and it's shorter than his other leg. it twists in, so if you imagine holding your palm as close to your wrist as you can.

when he gets it cut, he loses basically all of his flexibility in it. this is a mixed bag: on one hand, he has a good amount of nerve damage, so he can put weight on it for longer (as long as he's careful about it, because otherwise he'll fuck up his whole leg), but he also loses any chance of being able to use it effectively.

he can't really use its claws, so he has to basically get them clipped/bitten/filed off every moon or so.

his whole front leg is actually slightly twisted. that part of it isn't noticable, not unless you're examining it really closely, but even if he could untwist his paw, his leg would still be slightly stiffer.

windclan's hunting stragies are based on african wild dogs (african hunting dogs, african painted dogs, etc). why? because i wanted to.

to catch rabbits effectively, they use three cat teams: a flusher, a runner, and a catcher.

the flusher startles the rabbits, the runner chases them down, and the catcher, well, makes the pounce. they can run all three positions, but they usually excel at one. in hunting patrols, this allows them to trade off. you take 1-2 flusher, 3-4 runners, and 2-3 catchers, and you're an effeticve team.

(yes, that is kind of a big hunting patrol, but unlike thunderclan, they don't need to send many patrols. they can send out maybe two a day and be effective. and you have multiple runs going at any given time.)

obviously cats can and do catch rabbits alone, but this is more efficient and less exhausting.

deadfoot and talltail are both chasers. mentors and apprentices aren't necessarily matched, they just happened that way. onewhisker is a flusher, mudclaw and ashfoot are catchers, and i haven't decided for any other windclan cats yet.

deadpaw and talltail have to adjust every fighting move for him. y'all don't give him enough credit, with only one paw, he has to be able to balance on two legs for every forepaw rake.

he's equally effective once he gets the hang off it, and in a battle, he can use his other leg kind of like a club or pin, but it's really not anything exciting.

it's his left leg that's twisted, but i will 100% forget that, so i avoid saying which one it is.

#q #mine #txt #19th #April #2021 #April 19th 2021 #ibtwicm #windclan #essay #culture #warriors culture #warriors lore #warriors worldbuilding

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alternativewinxcontinuity · 4 years

Text

So a few months ago (last year maybe? oh my god what is linear time?!) I was thinking about how I would do a live action reboot, I’ve spoken about Fate Saga before but, I was just reminded of it again and... *sigh*

Anyway, from the long forgotten recesses of my files: here’s the outline (for episode 1) and notes (for the series) for how I would have handled it... except not, because I used Beatrix* and I would not have bothered with her if I could help it. I replaced Terra with our usual cast though. (...re-replaced? unplaced? deplaced? meh, nvm.)

*Beatrix is apparently the character replacing the entire Trix (last time I dared to pay proper attention) and I figured I might as well.

Episode one:

We open on aerial views of Gardenia, showing the town early in the day and meandering into Vanessa's Flower Shop. Bloom is helping her mother out around the shop, sorting a new arrival of decorative vases and notices one is chipped. She scolds it, “first day and you're already on the discount shelf,” puts it down and calls out to her mother when she can't find the ticket gun.

As she walks away to find it, a close up on the vase shows the damage repairing itself (or already gone).

Bloom and her mother banter for a bit, and Bloom teases her mother that 'working for my summer break wasn't what I had in mind.' Her mother teases back and implies that Bloom might be getting a very late gift for her sixteenth birthday. A very late gift.

When Bloom guesses 'car', her mother mother replies that 'it does have wheels and she can use it to carry things,' before having a friendly stare down with Bloom which leads Bloom to 'it’s a bike isn't it.'

Bloom returns to the vases with the ticket gun, but can't find the spot of damage on the vase, and decided she must have imagined it.

Bloom gets back to work, though slightly uneasy.

[scene change]

It is clearly later in the day, the sun getting low, Bloom is checking her phone and walking down the street, a delicious looking beverage in one hand. A girl about the same age as Bloom spots her as she's out for a walk of her own.

Smirking the girl strides up to Bloom and deliberately bumps into her, spilling the drink over both of them and pushing Bloom into a nearby hedge.

The girl starts going off at Bloom, demanding to be repaid for the [high end fashion brand] shirt that Bloom has just ruined.

Struggling to get out of the hedge, Bloom fires back, identifying the girl as Mitzy, and demanding to know why the girl is always like this. Wanting to know what she (Bloom) had ever done to her (Mitzy) that made her want to bully Bloom, even on their school holidays.

Mitzy answers back with something inane, and Bloom shrieks trying to lunge at Mitzy while still half in the hedge.

The Hedge ignites, and Mizty bolts, leaving Bloom to scramble from the burning hedge by her self and scrabble for her phone to call the fire department.

Bloom stares at the burning hedge in shock.

[scene transition]

Bloom stares at the smoking hedge in shock, it is even later in the day, almost dusk, and there is now a fire truck beside her. She is startled back to reality by one of the firemen asking her if she's alright.

She assures him (identifying him as her father) that she's okay but... she thinks she might have started the fire.

Her father, confused, asks what she means by that, and she explains that she thinks her anger might have been what started the fire.

Weird things have been happening to her, something strange is going on. Her father looks worried but says there's likely a good explanation and they can talk more at home, and does Bloom need a lift?

[scene change]

Bloom and her father – Mike – arrive home together to find a worried Vanessa who's heard about the fire. (Because Mike called her earlier.)

As they enter their house, Bloom frowns at a nice looking car because it's parked in what is technically their family's visitor parking. She asks if they have a guest, (Is it Grandma?) only to be told they don't have anyone visiting, and the conversation moves to Bloom's concerns she shared with her father.

[scene shift]

Interior of the house, the family sits down and Mike and Vanessa ask Bloom to tell them about the things she's been dealing with, the 'weird stuff going on around her'.

She tells them about several things, seemingly small things that could just be tricks of the mind, but which happen far to frequently to be normal... unless she has early onset dementia, she asks if they know if her birth family had a history of mental illness, but her parents don't know.

Talking together they decide that now is a good time for Bloom to receive the few items left to her by her birth family.

There's a medallion with strange symbols, a blanket sized for an infant, and a book in a strange language that Bloom swears she can almost read.

Her parents leave Bloom to go through her things and let her know they're there if she needs them.

Bloom has a montage of researching the symbols on the medallion and comes up with an ancient stone ring (like Stonehenge but smaller), dozens scattered around the planet that have similar symbols. (fringe scientists say aliens, but all folk lore associated with them falls under 'fairy tales'.)

During this montage a live bunny moves around the scenes, occasionally getting hugged as an emotional support bunny. It is a strange bluish shade of grey.

[scene change]

At breakfast the next morning Bloom tells her parents what she's discovered about the Fairy Rings, and asks if she can go see the closest one. Her parents share a look and take her outside to show her the car Bloom frowned at yesterday.

“It's your late present from Grandma.” her parents tell her, and Bloom expresses joyed disbelief, then sadness that she'd missed her Grandma again, mentioning that she hasn't seen her in so long she probably wouldn't recognise her if they passed in the street.

[brief montage]

Bloom prepares for her road trip, her parents checking the route with her and helping her pack her bags, giving the rabbit goodbye kisses as she leaves it with her family.

Bloom drives for a few minutes, various backgrounds passing by the windows (possibly one or two outfit changes) until she comes to a heavy and ancient feeling forest which sprawls across the land covering at least part of a mountain range.

Bloom gets out of the car and gives her parents a call to let them know she arrived. She jokes that it would be easier to ask Grandma if only she didn't spend 99.9% of the time 'off the grid'.

Bloom hikes through the forest to a clearing part way up the mountainside.

The circle of standing stones is partly moss covered and Bloom seems reluctant to remove the moss because she's in a nature reserve. She moves into the circle and pulls out her Medallion to compare the symbols only for the stones to begin humming. Bloom stumbles as the stones light up and makes for the edge of the ring, but before she can exit there's a flash of light. When it fades the Fairy Ring Bloom was investigating is empty.

[scene change]

Bloom trips and hits the ground, retching slightly before scrambling to her feet clearly dizzy, she stumbles and reaches out to grab one of the standing stone only to pull back, eyeing the stone warily.

Then has a 'what the hell?' moment, because not only are the stones moss free, they seem to be made of a different type of stone, and she is no longer in the same place.

A loud screeching noise pierces the air and Bloom startles, but then a muddied voice says something she can't quite make out, and she decides “screw it, people! Someone will know what's going on!... and I have literally no better options.”

Racing through the very different forest Bloom quickly finds a young woman fighting what she can only call monsters. The young woman, a blonde in strange garments wielding a staff with a fancy ornament at one end, seems to be tiring.

Bloom grabs a heavy looking branch and starts whacking. The duo manage to do okay, but they can both see it's a losing fight. They manage to get close enough for the blonde to tell Bloom the plan, which is just: make a gap and get back to the Fairy Ring.

They race back along the path Bloom took and she tries asking what the hell is going on, but the Blonde is too out of breath. They make it to the Ring and the blonde tells Bloom “hands on the staff”, Bloom complies without question and the stones flare again, shifting both of them to yet another Fairy Circle.

The blonde falls on her ass clearly worn out, and Bloom turns as she drops to her knees to puke.

A voice calls out to a 'princess Stella' and a strict looking woman appears to inform the blonde that she'd been expected three hours ago. The blonde, apparently princess Stella explains she'd been attacked, her transport had been hacked somehow and she'd been dumped out she didn't even know where, and would have probably died if not for her saviour.

Proper introductions are made between Bloom, Princess Stella and the stern woman who's name is Madam Griselda. Stella informs Bloom that since they just survived life and death together, they are totes besties now.

Bloom responds with a dubious “cool... where are we?”

Stella: the Arrival Ring of Alfea Academy of Fairy Magic, duh?

Bloom: Where on Earth is that?

Stella: what's Earth?

Griselda: ahem! Perhaps this is a conversation for inside, others may be trying to use the Ring, we still have several students not yet here. Go see Headmistress Faragonda!

Griselda makes Stella sign and gives her a student ID blank and a Bloom a visitor pass as she shoos them away. Bloom looks back to see Griselda doing something with one of the stone pillars.

Stella and Bloom chat as they walk, Stella trying to figure out why Bloom's so confused. They have to stop part way down the path as Bloom takes a moment to freak out as she realises she's not on Earth anymore but a Planet called Magix, and the girl in front of her is the crown princess of an entirely different Planet called Solaria.

Bloom: what the hell is my life right now?! I was just trying to find out more about my birth parents!

Stella (awkwardly holding one hand and patting her forearm): look, I've never heard of your home world, but you saved my life, and I like you, so no matter what happens, you'll be okay, I'll look out for you.

They resolve to ask Headmistress Faragonda if she knows anything about Earth when Stella checks in with her as instructed by Griselda.

The duo pass out of the trees that were blocking their view and Bloom has a 'oh wow' moment as she sees Alfea for the first time.

[artistic scene change]

The camera leaves the duo, panning around the school, showing various other young women, (pausing briefly on a few that fans of the cartoon will recognise) before focusing back down through a window to catch up with Stella and Bloom who have made their way to Faragonda's office.

After knocking they are called inside and Bloom pauses as she catches sight of Faragonda, who looks at her with some surprise and what almost seems like recognition, but the expression is gone in an instant and Faragonda asks the girls what happened.

Stella launches into a speech which catches the audience up on her side of the story before Bloom quickly recaps the episode thus far – got a medallion left to me by my birth parents, went searching, found stones, got teleported, kicked butt, ran, arrived here.

Faragonda tells Bloom that without knowing which Ring she'd initially come from, they'd be hard pressed to send her back. They could try a thing which boils down to return call, but that would send her first to the place she and Stella had been running from.

Considering it too dangerous, Faragonda promises to look into things and offers Bloom a place to stay in the mean time, telling her she's welcome to sit in on classes while she's here – after all, Bloom could only have entered the school without a special allowance if she herself was a fairy. (The guest pass doesn’t count)

Stella, super excited about the idea tugs Bloom by the hand, dragging her from the room.

[Scene shift]

The camera pans around to show the school's courtyard from Fragonda's window as Stella shows Bloom to the dorms via the scenic route.

Fragonda stands by the window watching them.

Griselda appears beside her watching over her shoulder.

Griselda: should I prepare for trouble?

Fragonda: … yes, and rather a lot of it I'm afraid...

[Episode ends.]

Next episode the rest of the Winx are introduced, and Bloom begins to learn about the powers she's recently had awakening within her. Fate Saga exclusive character Beatrix begins cropping up.

The Winx begin attempting to investigate Bloom's past via the Medallion, and Faragonda watches on with worry.

Tecna manages to trick out Bloom's phone so she can call her parents to tell them she's met some friends and found a lead and won't be home for a while yet.

Tecna gives the location data she gained from Bloom's phone call to Faragonda in the hopes of helping Bloom get home.

Episode ends with Bloom awakening from a dream (of Daphne), and Beatrix believing she's found a lead to her own investigation.

The following (4**) episodes focus on a mix of Bloom learning magic, the group researching the Medallion and discovering the markings are an ancient dialect belonging to Domino – but that's been a dead world for ages and the dialect wasn't exclusive to the planet.

Bloom has more Daphne dreams; fragments of the dream seem to be Daphne giving her lessons of a spiritual/magical nature.

The Winx realise Beatrix is up to something and share their observations with Faragonda, but when things come to a head at the end of the season, they're the ones who are there at the right time and the Winx fight Beatrix who is trying to steal a crystalline flame.

The artefact destroys Beatrix in the end and Faragonda assures the Winx they aren't at fault and oh btw, Faragonda has found a way to get Bloom home.

The Winx want Bloom to stay with them, but she says she needs to go see her parents, but she'll be back if that's okay with Faragonda, because there's still some things she needs to investigate.

Season closes with several short scenes: Griselda and Faragonda talk about what happened, and suspect Beatrix wasn't a real person, and refer to the Crystal Flame as Daphne's Heart. Griselda tells Faragonda that it might be time to come clean with Bloom.

A sooty, smoking doll on a table surrounded by a trio of out of focus women is the recipient of scorn and derision, the doll looks like Beatrix and the trio make it clear Griselda and Faragonda's suspicions were correct and Beatrix was a fake person the “mysterious trio” had made to investigate a lead at Alfea.

Bloom returns to Earth to find her car dusty but intact, and with a little magic she manages to get it started and drives home. When she arrives her mother welcomes her and tells her she has excellent timing: her Grandma is there. Excited Bloom races into the next room where her father is, but stops and stares in confusion when she sees-

“Ms Faragonda?”

End Season

Season two reveals Faragonda was responsible for hiding Bloom on Earth at the behest of a dying Daphne, Daphne's Heart is in fact, actually Daphne who used ancient magic to preserve her consciousness so she could pass on her knowledge to Bloom, who is basically the last of their bloodline and the (as far as anyone knows) only survivor of Domino.

Season 2 introduces the Boys and the Trix. (Also Aisha if she can't be shoehorned into season 1)

**unless it’s changed or I’m recalling wrong, the Fate Saga season 1 episode count was six hour long episodes?

#winx club #winx #winx rewrite #winx club rewrite #re-rewrite?#this is all i have of this rewrite #but it's basically the kind of feel i was hoping for with Fate Saga

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sketchyracoon · 4 years

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I may have lost any semblance of control on my life i had before. Among Us AU details under the cut.

Many of them have accents. I had the idea that they were from a big like multi-country space project and fell in love with the idea of the American(s) on the ship just startling the others because of things like the lack of bidets in the US.

Red (Elliot) is 38, is a Texan and you can tell he says Ya'll as a descriptor and many of the others are slightly fearful of the way he mashes words together. his whole personality can be summed up with "I'm a cowboy baby" and the fact that he's angy.

If I'm honest he is the only American on board that really startles the other crewmates even the other Americans are like "hey dude chill".

Orange (Herbert) is 27 probably from France (haven't really decided yet) and he was more confident before shock horror bad things happened to the whole crew. (More on that at five). Herbert is also very easily overwhelmed, he tries to pay attention but is often confused. I’ve also decided to change the egg on his head to be a hat in the future but I decided that after I drew the egg.

Pink (Eun-Jung) is 29, South Korean but he got some schooling in Britain and has probably traveled a lot. He looks soft but he can and will throw a mean punch. He and Herbert have crushes on each other but they kinda put it to the side when shit went down. There have been many times however when Eun-Jung has sat down with Herbert and calmed him down and dried his tears.

Green (Philip) is one of the younger crewmates being 22, he's a very studious lad he loves adventure novels and always wanted to go to space.

Especially after watching shows and reading books about space. He keeps trying to get together group DND nights but it's very hard for him to cater to everyone's interests cause he's the kind of DM that wants everyone to have fun but he also has a lot planned for a session but nothing ever happens because everyone is always goofing off. He still has fun tho and so does everyone else.

White is Angie, If I'm honest I named her that because of the halo she's wearing, and I thought it'd be funny. She is a not so single once single mother who lost her husband when her kid was born. She used to live in England but moved to Ireland for new scenery and for the space project.

She and black (Jolene) met in school and quickly fell in love. They Are Married! And the whole crew hates (loves) how sappy they are. Angie is stubborn and strong but also very kind and level-headed, she's not easily overwhelmed like Herbert is but when she does get overwhelmed, she doesn't crumble like he does. Doesn't mean her wife doesn't comfort her tho.

They both are in their late forties (Angie is 48 and Jolene is 49) and I named Jolene, Jolene because of the song. Jolene is Irish btw idk if I made that clear. And she is the definition of a chaotic lesbian, Angie tries very hard to keep her air of being a distinguished bi but she's also very chaotic at heart. They both are greying hair-wise but Jolene keeps covering it up with dye. Jolene thinks her wife looks very elegant with the white in her curls. Jolene can be summed up with that one Tumblr post story about a girl who told a girl she liked that "her air must be mad crisp" because of her plants.

Cyan (Tea) is Scandinavian and listen this like Eun-Jung's name is where is gets shaky google wise, and if this name isn't really a Scandinavian than I guess it's just an eccentric nickname. (I’m assuming it’s pronounced like the drink but if I’m wrong sorry) She is NERDY AND PROUD, but like not movie nerdy girl I mean genuinely weird nerdy. I guess technically everyone is a little nerdy in this crew but she's a feral kind of scientist. She is technically the captain of the ship because of her science background and her previous work with the Scandinavian branch of the space mission. Her goggles are prescription. She is 36 and has a little crush on the resident father of two purple (Perry).

Perry is a loving dad and all-around kind dude, he fathers the group sometimes intentionally. Often taking control of making food, and sometimes the group meetings, even tho technically he's not in charge. He's an open ear to the entire crew and he loves his two kids so much. He doesn't talk much about how he and his Ex split up but it's clear that he and his kids are happier without her. He Kinda likes Tea back a little but he's so busy being a good dad that he doesn't know that. He's often found baking for everyone and is in fact the culprit behind the extra five pounds everyone gained when joining the ship. Perry is 32. His family is from India and he visited his extended family there a lot but he was born and raised in the UK.

Blue (Liz which is short for Elizabeth) is not the greatest with people, she tries her best but she often comes off weird she's 51, one of her hobbies is learning and practicing different rules to fighting styles. She’s trying to teach herself taekwondo but the lack of instructor and need to use downloaded videos is holding her back. She's got some skill in boxing and ran a self-defense course back on earth. Her entire class was sad to see her go but the respected her decision and on the off days that the ship gets reception to radio back earth or other ships she makes sure to message them back with well wishes.

Yellow (Zack) is a little shit lord, he is the youngest on crew at age 19. He got in through a series of events up to and including the fact that his parents were exasperated by him and that his Aunt Liz (who he calls Aunt Lizzy) telling them that they were short a crewmate. the previous yellow left and they were having trouble getting a fit for the crew's specific needs, everyone else was on different crews and couldn't leave to fill in their gap. They were planning to leave with nine people when Zack reluctantly signed up. He was 18 at the time he first signed up and after a year of training, he was greenlit just in time for the mission.

He doesn't really get along well with anyone but he slowly opens up to the crew overtime. He got labeled as a problem child because of undiagnosed ADHD and focus problems and by the time he was diagnosed it was too late and all of his teachers had basically given up on him.

The entire crew tho is cool with it because many of them are neurodivergent. Liz and Zack are the other Americans of the crew. But Elliot is the only one who is not bi/multilingual. Unless you count Texas accent as a language which a many of the crew jokingly do. In which case he is fluent.

But then disaster struck, after a few months of bonding and growing close as a found family people started to die. After some trial and error, they found out that Herbert and Zack were behind it. Liz and Eun-Jung being two of the few remaining both reacted differently Eun-Jung was controlled anger barely keeping it together and Liz was deeply disappointed, she wanted better from her nephew.

What was weird tho was after ejecting the pair their display panels confirmed that they were "imposters" and now that they thought about it it was weird that they were all locked to this one specific floor of this ship. but no matter that was a thought for another day. now able to go to the lower floors the remaining crew mates all went to bed.

The next morning however everyone was back and alive not even a scar remaining, even the imposters. returned. After a lot of shouting (mainly from Elliot who was pissed about being stabbed) the crew started to reluctantly trust what Hubert and Zack were saying that they didn't want to hurt or kill any of them but something made them and it was like they were in a haze.

It was only directly after a kill that they could snap out of it and control themselves briefly (kill cooldown) before they lost control again. Since then they've been stuck in this sick loop where they all keep taking turns being stuck as imposter killing each other. At first when it happened again, they thought it was Herbert and Zack again but once it didn't stop anything and the ship told them that they weren’t imposters.

They realized that it was randomized. Overtime they learned the rules. Only Imposters can access vents, the kill count, that they can then follow around and do things as ghosts after thy get murdered, etcetera. But one thing they didn't realize was the punishments.

Overtime as they each tried to break the rules by, revealing themselves as imposter, trying desperately hard to go pacifist, or any number of other things like trying to remove their helmets, or talk on comms before emergencies on meetings they were punished.

Philip is now growing plants off of himself. Eun-Jung has a similar punishment but it's solely cherry blossoms. Herbert is stuck killing everyone by eating them with a giant mouth from his stomach. I don't know Elliot’s punishment yet but the thought to make him Texan squared did cross my mind.

Angie is turning into one of those rad many-eyed angels from Dante's inferno. Jolene is now growing goat horns and her eyes are now goat-like. And Idk what other punishments to give Tea, Perry, Liz, and Zack, I want them to be related to the hats and stuff you can wear in game like some of the others but how to you punish some one using a banana? Or two kids? Or googles? I’ll probably come up with something later especially since they are all mostly hidden by the suits, that means that conceivably their punishments are hidden by the suits.

#among us #among us ocs #my art #i've lost it. bye ya'll I'm lost in the sauce #i'#I spent so much time while i drew them thinking of their dynamics and stuff and how the universe would work for optimal angst

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kareofbears · 4 years

Text

blinding lights, chapter 3/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut!

——

On a technical standpoint, rain doesn’t bother Akechi.

Whenever it rains, no matter if it was just a drizzle or a downpour, people scramble to the nearest overhang, praying that they don’t get drenched. Such a trivial thing to get panicked by, he thought. City rain like this was hardly something to fear, yet it remains a constant in societal culture—water starts falling from the sky and people stop whatever they’re doing to duck for cover.

And since Akechi had long since accepted to reform himself into the mold of society rather than the other way around, here he was, in the middle of Kichijoji, shoulders pressed back against the building of Darts & Billboards, waiting for the rain to tire itself out.

Out of all the habits he’s practiced and perfected from his days of deceit, it’s strange that hiding out from rainfall is one of the few that he still can’t shake, inconsequential as it was. He had learned that mimicking what can be considered societal norms and exercised it in everyday life can at least trick most people that he, Akechi Goro, can be lumped in with the norms and be heightened to excellence later on. People hid from droplets and because the path of normalcy is what he wanted, he decided that he’ll hide with them.

It took him a long time to narrow down why it bothered him. Why, for some reason, it had pissed him off that idiots would commit to such an insignificant action. It’s because when people run for cover, when they prioritize the act of hiding over everything else, they’re essentially allowing the rain—this overall harmless entity—to prevent them from reaching their destination. Fools let their decisions be dictated by the weather, wasting their time waiting it out, letting themselves be dictated beyond their control.

It’s a product of the collective unconscious; rather than pushing past the drizzle to reach their destination, or continue living their life as it were before the storm clouds rolled in, the masses decided that the better decision was to cease all movements because it would be easier. When it rains, society comes at a standstill.

“D’you always just stand in the middle of the promenade lookin’ pissed, or am I just lucky?”

Akechi blinks and turns his head to see a patch of bright, blond hair with an even brighter grin. His purple hood was pulled up, but it’s too short that it does little to block out the downpour.

Sakamoto Ryuji stands in front of him, completely drenched and unbothered.

“I’d hardly call it luck, so much as a coincidence.” Flicking his eyes downward, Ryuji adjusts the heavy looking plastic bags hanging off of his wrists. “And you?”

“Doing some grocery shopping for my ma. She’s been real busy at work, so…” he shrugs.

It really was a strange coincidence that he shows up like this, unprompted. The universe, if it ever was sentient, had never thrown him a bone. However, for Ryuji to show up, it almost seems like a waste to let it go.

If he’s been wanting to see Sakamoto up close, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

“How do you feel about joining me in some people-watching?” Akechi asks.

Ryuji’s eyes light up. “Sure! These bags are getting heavy anyway, could use a break.” He dodges a stream of water flowing cleanly from the gutter and joins Akechi underneath the overhang. Whether he can sense Akechi’s discomfort or perhaps it’s a feeling residing from the real reality, Ryuji had kept a gap of about a meter between the two.

“I hope I didn’t take you away from any pressing matters, Sakamoto.”

“Nah,” he gently sets down his bags before turning to give Akechi his full attention. “Don’t got much waiting for me back home with my ma at work, but can’t stay for too long,” he nods his head down to his bags. “She’d kick my ass if I let the milk go bad.”

Ryuji laughs, shoulders shaking. “But y’know, I see you hangin’ with ‘Kira sometimes, and any friend of that bastard is a friend of mine. And, uh, speaking of…” With an expression of guilt and reluctance so tremulous that Akechi can only compare it to a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Yes, technically he’s an unforgivable hypocrite for advising Sumire against speaking to Ryuji, but that won’t stop him from getting the information he needs. (It never has.)

After all, there must be something special about Sakamoto in order to have Kurusu Akira wrapped around his finger.

“Oh?” he responds.

“Yeah, it, uh, might be a bit awkward so I’ll do my best to be straight about it,” Ryuji looks embarrassed, but determined. “I know the feeling of not wanting to say something, to have it weigh you down and shit. Basically, what I’m tryna say is: you don’t just gotta rely on Akira!”

Akechi’s eyes widen. It should’ve been impossible. How did he figure out about Akira and the other reality when he hasn’t even been snapped out of it—

“You looked super stressed back in New Year’s and I get that you’d rather talk to Akira, but he’s a busy guy. And I know we aren’t close, but if you want to vent, or just, I dunno, get some ramen together?” he shrugs and throws a smile in Akechi’s direction. “I’m here for you.”

Akechi’s face is carefully blank. He’s wrong, because of course Sakamoto didn’t figure it out. (Has he ever figured anything out?)

He had done extensive research on the Thieves the second he got a whiff of who they might be, and that was especially the case for the initial members of the group. Sakamoto Ryuji, a second-year in the now infamous Shujin Academy. Formerly the star of the track team, his leg was snapped beyond repair by Kamoshida, the Thieves’ initial target. While he had always possessed a temper, it had grown exponentially when the teacher had faced no charges and he was shunned by the rest of the school. It’s like the Boy Who Cried Wolf—except there had undoubtedly been a wolf, and the boy ended up with a lifetime’s worth of permanent damage.

At first, he had chalked up Ryuji’s temper as yet another weakness—Akechi had learned firsthand just how fast the hand of authority strikes if one were to place a toe out of line. It’s how he decided to perfect the weapon of deceit. Akechi learned from his mistakes, to the point that his heart had split itself into two people he could become: Loki as his true self, and Robin Hood as who he needs to be.

Even Akira had understood the hubris of exposing himself, had felt the same punishment that Akechi was subjected to (ironically by the same person). In a world where a mask can be the difference between life and death, Akechi and Akira had decided to be its executioner rather than the one subjected to the sharp end of the guillotine.

By the nature of these rules, Ryuji should have been beheaded. And he was.

But instead of learning his lesson the way Akechi and Akira had, he had been rejuvenated. Instead of bending to the will of authority, he let that pressure mold him into something tougher, let the anger inside him fester and grow.

It had made sense, in hindsight, why Ryuji had treated him the way he did (it’s not like Akechi had the best intentions). So seeing him like this, where he never found out Akechi’s true personality, allowed him to see Ryuji in his natural state.

A feeling surges within Akechi, so foreign that it takes him slightly too long just to name it. All around him, deep in his gut, spread all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes is wave after wave of…

“I’m done here,” Akechi says.

Discomfort.

“Huh?” Ryuji cocks his head. “Uh, was that weird of me to say? My bad, Ann’s always said I had a big, fat mouth. Sorry, yeah we aren’t close and stuff. Just thought it’d be nice—”

Akechi holds back a click of his tongue and, with a little effort, morphs his expression into one of false platitudes and plasticity. A slight quirk in his lips (not too high or it’ll scare them), tilt his head at a certain angle, and raise his voice an octave to indicate an apology. “Sorry to leave so suddenly. Thank you for your time.”

The rain had stopped sometime during their conversation and he hates that the universe seemed like it had taken pity on him.

Ryuji says something to him, but Akechi refuses to listen to another word—he doesn’t need to. He got what he wanted. All it took was one conversation for Akechi to know exactly what Akira sees in him.

That incessant authenticity and kindness shouldn’t exist in a world like this. It shouldn’t have existed in an angry boy like him.

Akechi tries (and fails) to look like he isn’t running away.

It was only when he was in bed later that night that he realized he didn’t find out what Ryuji’s wish was. Given the way he said Akira’s name though, Akechi didn’t have to think too hard.

—

AG: The biggest gray area in this has to be with Niijima Makoto YS: wow. I didn’t think you’d be straight-forward with your relationship with her. thank you for your honesty. YS: you both must have a difficult history with one another :( AG: What are you talking about? AG: I’m saying I don’t know where to find her. YS: ah. i see. YS: haha how about we just pretend that never happened?

They checked Shujin Academy (closed for winter break), Aoyama Itchome (for good measure), and finally the bookstore in Central Street (the smell of books is so lovely) before Akechi began to lose his temper.

“It wouldn’t be a huge surprise if we just found her in the middle of Tokyo University impersonating a research assistant as some sad excuse to feel some adrenaline for the first time in her life,” he says as they walk down the escalator, prepared to hop on the train and try somewhere else.

Sumire frowns. “Being studious doesn’t make someone boring.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Kurusu is at the top of his class and a huge public nuisance. No, Niijima’s absolutely underneath the sole of academics and government propaganda from her father since day one.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I don’t like anyone,” he replies. “Especially not someone so tied with practicing law like she plans to.”

They round the corner. “You can talk to her about that yourself.”

Standing by the overpriced-looking smoothie bar is Niijima Makoto, accompanied by a beautiful older woman who looks like she can melt down a rusted car with a single glare.

“I would think that Sae-san would quite actually murder me if I were to bring that up.”

“You know the other woman?”

“It would be rude not to know my co-workers after all,” says Akechi. “That’s prosecutor Niijima Sae—Makoto’s sister as well as one of the Thieves’ targets from the past.”

Sumire ponders over the odds for a second. “Did she happen to have a casino as a Palace?”

He pauses. “Yes. As a matter of fact, she did.”

“Amazing! What luck!” she beams. “May I try and guess what their wish may be?”

“Is this nothing but a game to you?” he says immediately, before stopping himself. “…One guess.”

Brows scrunching together, she leans towards him, shoulders sagged as if she was carrying a secret so heavy that it physically weighed her down. Poker chips, alcohol bottles, and slot machines… “Did Makoto-senpai wish for Sae-san’s gambling addiction to go away?”

Akechi stares at her. “Who was it again that taught you how Palaces work?”

“Morgana-senpai.”

“If that’s the case, I’m simply over the moon that he didn’t join us on our mission.” They walk towards the Niijimas, who were still chatting amicably with one another. “Their father passed when they were young; it left their family jaded, it was traumatizing, et cetera, I’m sure you get the gist.”

“Wait, I really don’t—”

“Akechi? What a coincidence!”

The sisters greeted them with kind eyes and soft smiles, and Sumire has to accept that she’s out of her league for this one—the student council president may have been a common name around school, but it hardly ever came with more information other than how good her grades were, as well as the potential ‘narc’ comment. But despite what Akechi thinks, no Phantom Thief could possibly be on the side of the police; they’ve all had enough firsthand experience with that particular institution to see just how often the system has failed them.

Akechi nods. “It truly is,” he says, as if they hadn’t spent half the day walking around Tokyo scrounging for them. “This is Yoshizawa Sumire, Sae-san.”

“Pleasure to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Sae says.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised to see you here,” Akechi says. “Did we interrupt you both?”

“Not at all. We were just doing some grocery shopping for dinner tonight. Our father’s been having a craving for teriyaki,” she answers. “Why so surprised, Akechi?”

“Nothing in particular,” he says, and Sumire can feel his smugness radiating from where she’s standing. Well, he is a detective, so she’s not too shocked. “It’s simply refreshing to see you spending time with your family, despite being as busy as you are.” With a tilt of his head, he turns to Makoto. “I haven’t heard about your father for a long time.”

Makoto recoils a little, and winces. “My…father? No, wait, dad’s been gone for…It doesn’t make any sense…:

Sumire nearly startles when Makoto suddenly straightens up, gaze clouded. Akechi clicks his tongue.

“Sorry,” she says, a bit dizzily, already taking a step back. “Sae and I need to make it to the grocery store before it closes.”

Sumire waves half-heartedly and sighs when they’re gone. “Niijima-senpai perhaps had the most graceful escape so far,” she comments.

Pulling back his sleeve, Akechi peers at his watch. “It’s two pm. She could’ve done better,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame. I had high hopes for her to be the first one. She’s the only one in that circus who had more than one brain cell and isn’t named Kurusu.”

“…May I ask you something?”

“You’re already asking a question, just ask it.”

Sumire rocks back and forth on her heels. “Why do you call him that?”

“Because that’s his name?”

“Last name,” she corrects. “Why not call him by his first name?”

“What kind of question is that? Is this a test? A trial to prove that I’m willing to be honest?” Sumire stays silent. “Alright then, if it’ll help you sleep at night. I can’t possibly fathom how you still haven’t figured out that he and I aren’t as buddy-buddy as you think.”

“Well, yes, I know that but—”

“And you?”

Her heart rate skyrockets. “What about me?”

“You call him by his surname as well, even topped off with a ‘senpai’ at the end,” Akechi raises a brow. “Why not on a first name basis?”

“W-we aren’t that close!” she exclaims. “That’s reserved for people who’s close to him, like a good friend, or a girlf—boyfr—partner. We just… aren’t that.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Akechi says. “We aren’t even on a first name basis with him, yet here we are; fresh from New Year’s, running around Tokyo for his friends who should be doing this instead.”

(Sumire very nearly says it, what’s been on her mind since Maruki’s Palace. But as it stands, she doesn’t want to ruin the foundation—very unstable, can most definitely blow away with a strong gust of wind, but a foundation nonetheless—that she and Akechi reluctantly built.)

“Yes, it really is strange.”

—

AG: Are you particularly close with Okumura? YS: unfortunately not, no. i’ve heard about what happened to her father, though. Perhaps her wish is related to his passing. AG: …Yes, I believe it is. I would think that the two of them would look at ways of expanding the Big Bang business. So basically, Tokyo Hotspots. YS: kichijoji? that place is always bustling YS: not to mention, i’d love for them to open up there. their milkshakes are incredible ( ◜‿◝ )♡ AG: Good call. We’ll try there first then. AG: At any rate, it will be a very quick confrontation with her.

“So I’ve been thinking—”

“A dangerous pastime, but go on.”

Sumire huffs without heat as they traverse Kichijoji—busy even in this time of year, though in no small part because of the shrine nearby. “We’ve been doing this…” What are they doing? “Saving our known reality business for nearly a week now. It hasn’t been going the best.”

Neither of them need a reminder that their victory ratio is currently at a strong zero to six. “So maybe we need to change it up a bit! I thought up a strategy last night that I think we should implement today,” she beams up at him.

Akechi’s gaze can wither flowers. “Do you need me to explain how idiotic that sounds?”

“Oh, come on Akechi! We need all the help we can get, especially since we only have two left. Plus, you haven’t even heard the strategy. Would you like to hear it?”

She doesn’t wait for his response before eagerly pushing through. “I understand and accept that you’re a bit ruthless, which is great! Well, great if that’s who you are. And since you called me a goody two shoes that one time, I figured we can go with that.” Sumire steps in front of Akechi and raises her hands to the sky, chin tilted upwards. “We can do the ‘good guy, bad guy’ strategy! That’s what we’ve been doing anyway. It can be like Zootopia.”

A silence stretches out—Sumire’s grin unfaltering and Akechi’s perfectly blank.

Then, “What the fuck is a Zootopia?

“Did you not watch that movie? It was pretty big.”

“Do I look like someone who’d watch a documentary on the animal kingdom?” His eyes zero in on something. “Lucky us, we found them.”

Okumura Haru stands with whom Sumire can only assume is her father. The speak amicably with each other, adoration radiating off of them as they point and gesture at the various businesses around the promenade.

“Don’t forget the strategy,” she whispers.

“I wouldn��t dream of it,” he responds sarcastically.

A feeling of optimism blossoms in Sumire’s chest as they approach the Okumuras. Maybe it’s the nice weather, or it’s another opportunity to finally achieve their goal of gaining one of Akira’s allies. Mostly though, she chalks it up as relief that even though it’s far from perfect, Akechi’s finally starting to let down the drawbridge, bit by bit.

And that’s when Haru decides to look in their direction.

Instead of the initial small talk, the breadcrumbs that hint towards their other reality, instead of gently edging them to the truth, Haru had completely bypassed all of that. A feeling of deja vu tugs strangely at Sumire as she takes in her expression—the usual confusion and pained tightening of the brows, but this time, a raw, unquestionable fury morphs onto her features.

It’s a near-perfect replica of Futaba’s expression.

After a few seconds, Haru says something to her father, and they leave, leaving Akechi and Sumire mid-stride in the middle of the promenade.

Another silence reigns over them, heavy and suffocating despite the bustle of Kichijoji.

“We didn’t even need to talk to her,” Akechi says. “An efficient failure.” The silence stretches on. “You have something to say..”

Sumire shoots him a dark look. “Alley,” she says, voice uncharacteristically low. “It might upset the families if we speak rudely in front of them.”

She leads them to the backstreets, where most stores are closed until the nightlife crowd rolls in. It was empty, and only the metal shutters and stray plastic bags strewn about the pavement were present to hear them.

“Of course I have something to say,” Sumire says, fists clenched tightly at her sides. “You promised back at Leblanc. You said that you won’t withhold information from me anymore, for the sake of the mission.”

She points behind her in the direction of where the Okumura’s left. “Despite what you may like to believe, I’m not an idiot who won’t notice something as obvious as Okumura-senpai running away the second she sees you. She didn’t even speak to us before she ran, which is considerably worse than Sakura-chan.” Sumire’s eyes narrow. “What are you still hiding from me?”

Throughout her speech, Akechi didn’t even blink. “Has it occurred to you that I simply lied when I made that pesky promise to you, or are you still the same person who fell right into Maruki’s waiting hands last spring?”

Sumire recoils as if she’d been hit. “Don’t bring that up, it has nothing to do with this—”

“Doesn’t it?” his voice is cold. “Isn’t the reason why you’re so desperate for me to be open with you is that you have some sort of trust issues?”

“That’s not it.”

“Finally we’re getting somewhere,” Akechi’s red eyes seem to be glowing despite the darkness in the shadowed alley. With a sickening feeling, she realizes he’s enjoying this. “Let me take a guess. You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, an overflowing kindness that you have to act on and spread across the globe. And, if you’re simply good and lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, your beloved ‘Kurusu-senpai’ will look away from his little group long enough to see how sweet and kind you are—”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off. Her voice is slow and deliberate. “You want to know what I’m doing this for? It’s because I’m sick and tired of these hellish lies.”

Akechi stays quiet as she continues, struggling to speak while her eyes blazed with fury. “I basically just found out that I’m not who I thought I was for the past ten months. Do you know what that feels like? It’s like if someone kidnapped me, shoved me in the back of a van, blindfolded. Maruki, bless his soul, forced me to believe whatever garbage he thought was best for me. It makes me sick to think that I fell for that reality, never once did I question it.”

She clenches her jaw. “You know what I want, Akechi? It’s not the philanthropy you’re so obsessed with, or senpai’s affection. What I want is my kidnapper to fail. I want him to regret what he did to me, to stop what he’s doing to everyone else. Even if his intentions were good, I am not going to let him get away with this,” Sumire looks directly into Akechi’s eyes. “And you are not going to be the one to slow me down.”

Chest heaving, she realizes she’s breathless. After a brief pause, Akechi speaks.

“Our motivations aren’t too far off from one another,” his voice is strangely cool, as if his fury and long since dissipated from the surface and had manifested into something sharp and dangerous. “You said you’re tired of the lies? Of being used like some kind of puppet, a test subject? Of having the rug pulled from you just because someone fucking felt like it? Good. But our similarities stop there.”

He leans back against the metal gate of a closed bar. “At the root of it, you want to stop Maruki so that he doesn’t push his beliefs to anyone else. Whether you like it or not, your motivation is accidental philanthropy. I could not give less of a shit about Maruki, or Tokyo, or even the rest of this damned world. I just want to be able to live in a reality where I get to choose what I want to do.”

“So let me help you!” she exclaims, frustrated. “Some detective, you are—keeping secrets isn’t going to help this situation.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I tried to make this as easy to understand as possible, but I guess I just have to make it obvious.” Akechi straightens up and from the smirk resting on his mouth and the way his brow is lifted, condescension is simply dripping from him. Sumire refuses to recoil. “I don’t care if you want to help me. I am a selfish person who does what he wants. I’m willing to tear down anyone in my path, use anyone in my way, if it means that I get what I want.”

“Maybe you are!” Sumire says. “A selfish person, I mean.”

Akechi blinks, and throws his head back, loud laughter echoing through the alley. “‘Maybe I am?’” He laughs again, nearly doubling over. When he sobers up a bit, she has to force herself not to flinch. It’s as if something had unhinged in Akechi and she’s seeing the result of that—his eyes are twinkling as his smirk stretches even further over his face; an edged grin. “Do you need an example, Yoshizawa? Proof? Citation for what I’ve done just so you can understand? Look forward to it, since you’ll learn at long last why Sakura and Okumura took one look at me and fled.”

Bending over slightly so that he’s eye-level with Sumire, he announces: “I killed Sakura Futaba’s mother and Okumura Haru’s father. I am a murderer.”

“So am I.”

Akechi stops breathing, blinking as he processes what Sumire just said. She only looks back through narrowed eyes, daring him to say something.

When he doesn’t, she relaxes a bit. “Are you in the mood for darts? Since we finished with Okumura-senpai much earlier than expected, we have some time. And besides,” Sumire brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “There’s more to discuss, and I’m not really feeling this alley anymore.”

—

“It’s different. You must know that it’s different.”

Sumire waits until she gets their darts from behind the counter. “I know.”

Darts & Billiards was never particularly full, but it was never empty either. There were a few groups, pairs, and serious soloists that filled the entire room with indecipherable chatter and the loud clack of eight-balls colliding with one another. Anything that Akechi and Sumire might talk about thankfully gets shrouded by the white noise.

“Any preferences?” she says, waving around the dart in her hands.

“701,” he says immediately. “Anything lower is child’s play.”

Sumire nods as she inputs the settings. “Kurusu-senpai said something before he went with Dr. Maruki,” she began. “He said that he was doing this for his friends—the Thieves, myself,” she glances back. “And in his words, ‘especially you.’”

“And what of it?” Akechi asks.

“I believe that Kurusu-senpai knows of your past, knows your struggles and whatever you’ve gone through. I can only guess what you’ve had to endure, and how it led you to what you did to their parents.” Sumire offers him his set of darts. “May I go first?”

Akechi nods and she takes her stance—despite everything, she’s a little nervous playing darts with someone who actually plays to win.

Sumire throws it as best she can when Akechi speaks. “Does it justify it, then? If my life was difficult enough, would you give me a pass for killing innocent people?”

“No,” she casts another dart. “It doesn’t. Nothing really justifies that.” Pinching her last dart between her fingers, she fiddles as she thinks. “But I accidentally killed my sister over my incompetence in gymnastics.”

“But that’s the difference,” Akechi waves his hand. “It wasn’t an accident that they died by my hands. I had planned it, plotted it, and accomplished it. What you did wasn’t deliberate; it was a spur of the moment decision to run into traffic.”

Sumire hurls her final dart a little harder than usual. “I didn’t say that you should be forgiven, Akechi! I mean, I still don’t forgive myself. But even if it is different, I can at least understand your sentiments a fraction better than anyone else can. Do I think that it’s fine that two people who’re the same age as us lost their parents? Of course not. It makes me ill just thinking about it.”

She walks to the board and gingerly plucks off her darts. “But if I tried to pretend that I don’t understand what you’ve done—that isn’t right, either.”

He has a thoughtful expression on his face, his darts rolling between his fingers similar to how people fidget with loose change; Sumire hadn’t even known it was possible to do that. “Interesting.”

Stepping up to the mat, Akechi tilts his body sideways, obviously practiced in the game. His expression doesn’t change when it lands on a triple twenty.

“Do you regret it?”

His hand is steady as he throws—another triple twenty. “The murders? It depends.”

“On?”

“Do I regret being caught, used, and humiliated by losers who I thought were beneath me? Yes. Do I regret ending the lives of many?” casting his third dart, it lands so close to the others that they wobble in unison. “No. Not really.”

Sumire’s next round was a silent one, Akechi’s confession playing on repeat in her mind. He had simply said it with no hesitation; his tenor hadn’t changed, posture didn’t shift. The words that flowed out of him had no emotion whatsoever—they were clinical, like a doctor stating the facts to a terminal patient.

The ongoing background noise paid no mind to their silence, stuck in its blissful ignorance despite the pair’s topics. If there’s one guarantee in this world, it’s that it’s extremely likely that no one will listen just as the conversation is getting important.

Akechi’s on his second turn when he says, “You took well to the fact that I’ve killed in cold blood.”

“I knew that you were hiding something,” she says. “It’s because of how you act. You were a little cruel back in the Palace, and while it’s no excuse, people who have…” she scratches her head. “A hardened heart usually has a nasty past, and what Kurusu-senpai said only confirmed it.”

No matter how many times he does it, Sumire still gets impressed by his casual triple twenty.

Swapping places with him, she closes one eye as she ponders over her strategy. “But despite the fact that you’re a ruthless sort of person—” her dart sails forward and sticks to the board. “I’m willing to look past it if it means we can change reality.” Sumire cocks her head at him. “Can you?”

Akechi stays silent as Sumire launches another dart—one more and they can win it. “Selfish is what we call ourselves, right?” she says. “That we’re only in it for yourselves, regardless of what happens to everyone else. If we work together and it raises the odds of getting what we want, doesn’t that still play into the fact that we’re acting for our own benefit?”

She lines herself up for the last point, and takes a deep breath. “What did you call it? Accidental philanthropy?” she throws her dart and watches as it curves beautifully—only for it to miss her mark by quarter-inch. “Oh no!”

“Accidental philanthropy…” he muses, indifferent to their loss. “That doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Sumire raises her eyebrows, skeptical. “Really?”

“I know that my past actions may have dictated our failure to some extent. That was my fault,” Akechi crosses his arms. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Maybe she was too forgiving, or too trusting, or maybe it’s the closest she’ll get as an apology out of Akechi, but she finds herself nodding. “That’s all I wanted.”

He moves to put on his coat. “Was it to your satisfaction?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve wanted to talk even before we discovered Maruki’s schemes,” he shoves his arms through his coat sleeves. “Are you satisfied”

“Pretty much,” Sumire nods. “I understand you much better than before, at least.”

Collecting his darts, he heads to the register. “Why do you want to understand?”

“…Because I’m curious. You changed so abruptly, I didn’t even know who you were anymore—not that I did to begin with. Not to mention, the people Kurusu-senpai knows are always interesting, and you’re definitely not an exception.”

Akechi turns, and from the doubt on his features, he doesn’t take the bait.

“Fine. That wasn’t a lie, though. I just…” she hesitates, and decides to throw caution to the wind. “I want to get to know my teammate better.”

Anything could’ve happened in that beat of silence, much to the ignorance of the loitering patrons.

“See,” he replies. “Now that I can believe. And here I thought I was the only one who needed to practice honesty more.”

He walks back to register. “I’ll handle the bill. Call it a repaying of debts, in a way.”

“For what?”

“That’s what teammates do, don’t they?”

Sumire feels herself smile widely. It had only taken about six days, their entire reality shifting, and a busted game of darts, but it finally feels like she and Akechi are fighting the same battle.

—

AG: If it all goes to plan, we should’ve at least been able to convince one of them AG: As much as it truly pains me to say it, putting our faith in them is our best chance at success. AG: Worse comes to worst, there’s a reason why we’re making him the last one to convince. He’s our trump card. YS: you mean sakamoto-senpai? AG: Ugh, don’t make me say it.

According to Akechi’s knowledge of Ryuji’s whereabouts (as unhappy as he was to recite it), there are two places that he frequents—the arcade in Shibuya or loitering around Shujin.

The arcade was full of random teens and pre-teens, all deeply invested in games that Sumire had never taken up but Akechi was apparently knowledgeable in (“Good practice,” he had replied when she asked, and she opted not to pry any further).

The two had hopped back on the train to Aoyama-Itchome, forced to stand as life resumes back to normalcy post-holidays. Despite the tight fit of the car, Akechi had placed a good amount of space between them—whether it’s for his sake or hers, she can appreciate the gesture.

The morning was a strange one. Ever since their darts game and impromptu heart-to-heart, the atmosphere between them had shifted. It’s still a few miles off from being friendly, but it’s easier now; there’s an unspoken understanding between them, a common goal that drives them forward.

Still, it would’ve been nice if they had gotten their act together prior to meeting with their last Phantom Thief.

“By the way,” Akechi says, and Sumire’s eyes flicker up at him in interest. They had been silent since they stepped on the train. “In the acknowledgement of…team spirit,” his lips curled, unable to keep the mocking out of his words at such a ridiculous concept. “I should let you know that I’ve spoken to Sakamoto.”

“Oh.” She can’t seem to muster up any shock. “When? Did you plan it?”

“A few days ago, and no, it was by chance,” his eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to Sakamoto?”

“Not on purpose!” Sumire defends, shifting her sweaty grip on the plastic handle. “He just happened to be there.”

“He seems to have a knack for that,” Akechi says, and Sumire doesn’t comment on the strange quality of his voice—bitterness? “Well? Anything worth repeating?”

“Uh…” she racks her brain. Somehow, she doesn’t think that Ryuji’s blow by blow of the new shounen manga was what Akechi’s looking for. “Nothing in particular. Oh! He spoke quite a bit about Kurusu-senpai, but that’s not too surprising, considering his wish and all.” ‘Quite a bit’ might be a bit of an understatement.

He squints at her. “Whose wish?”

“Kurusu-senpai’s? Obviously Sakamoto-senpai would still be affected since he’s directly tied Kurusu-senpai’s wish.”

His stare doesn’t relent. “Why on earth would Kurusu’s wish still be affecting Sakamoto? He already broke free of the fake reality, meaning that Sakamoto isn’t affected by Kurusu’s wish,” says Akechi. “The idiot has his own wish. Did you not know?”

Sumire would describe herself as a person with a decent amount of pride, but an obvious fact like that has heat rushing to her cheeks. She ignores him and instead asks, “Did you figure out his real wish?”

“On a technicality, no. Though I have a rather strong hunch on what it is, based on my interaction with him,” he cringes a bit when the train rocks someone into him. “It’s likely that his wish may be the exact as Kurusu’s.”

“As in…” she blinks. “He wished to be with senpai?”

“It’s possible. Disgusting, how desperate they are to bring something to fruition that could easily be done without the Metaverse.” And he adds, “Your conclusion wasn’t too far off.”

“Wow,” as articulate as it was, it was really all she could say about his observation. It sounds like an impossibility; having two people wish for each other, like some cheesy rom-com but with way more monsters and magic. Yet it makes sense—the way Ryuji spoke of Akira like he put up the moon, with a feeling of undeniable admiration and respect sandwiched between friendly jabs at him. It sounds like an impossibility, she realizes, because it probably is one. It would take something as insane as the Metaverse to create something as equally improbable as their level of requited love.

The speaker overhead announces their station and they both exit with no small amount of polite shoving.

It’s a short walk from Aoyama to the school, a route familiar enough to Sumire that she can probably traverse it with her eyes closed.

“Do you know where in Shujin he might be?” Akechi asks, and belatedly she realizes she hasn’t given him any indication for where to go. Not that it was a problem—for someone who doesn’t go here, he seems to know the path just as well as she does. “Is the school even open?”

“It should be fine,” Sumire says. “The grounds, maybe? Actually, the track is probably our best shot, since he goes for a run pretty often.”

A beat passes.

“How often?” he asks slowly.

“Um—” she spots a familiar patch of bleached hair. “Look, there he is! It looks like he’s talking to…is that the track team?”

Akechi hums. “Is it, now?”

“Pipe down, dumbass!” Even half a block down, Ryuji’s voice rings loud and clear. “I’m only tryin’ my best so you guys don’t laugh me—oh, no effin’ way. Yoshizawa! Akechi! Sorry, gimme a sec,” he calls back to the others as he half-jogs towards them.

“I knew it,” Akechi mutters.

“Huh?” she asks.

“His leg. He isn’t limping.”

Sumire’s brow creases. She’s about to ask Akechi to clarify when it dawns on her:

Kamoshida had explained to her (in full, descriptive, unhesitating detail) about the delinquent students that roamed the walls of Shujin, there was one in particular he had a special hatred for—Sakamoto Ryuji. Rumors had done little to reveal the truth of his declaration, but a single conversation with Ryuji had cleared away any possibility that he was the type for unnecessary violence.

However, there is one truth that came from every lie that was spread about him; his leg has been damaged to the point where professional running is no longer a possibility.

Ryuji approaches them, smiling and limp-free.

Which means—

“What’s up?” he asks. Just like when Sumire saw him before, Ryuji is donned in the standard school P.E track pants (red and white and cuffed at the bottom). It didn’t mean much to her then. “Whatcha doin’ here, Akechi? You transferring schools, or something?”

In all of ten seconds, Ryuji had proved them wrong without even knowing it.

“I was here to pick up a few books from the library when I bumped into him,” she lies for the both of them. “And you, senpai?”

Ryuji takes a step back, shocked. “Damn! You’re makin’ the rest of us look bad. Nah, the track guys just forced me to hangout with them to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah, uh,” sneakers scuffing the concrete, Ryuji turns a light shade of pink when he admits, “The school might’ve let slip that there’s some colleges that might be scouting after me after my last meet.”

Even Akechi looked a little impressed. “That’s no small feat.”

“That’s incredible, senpai!” Sumire cries, unable to hold herself back. “That’s—that’s huge! Bigger than huge, it’s being scouted! Do you know how cool that is? Of course you do, you’re the one who got scouted!”

She throws both her hands up to the sky and Ryuji slaps them, the pleasant echo resounds through the alley and leaves them both shaking out their palms.

“Thanks,” Ryuji grins. “But don’t get too excited. It ain’t confirmed or anything,” he tries to keep the elation out of his voice and fails miserably. “I’m just so dang happy cause that means things’ll be easier for my mom down the line, y’know?”

It’s like a slap to the face, a jolt that sends her crash landing back to reality. Because she isn’t here to congratulate Ryuji for his success—she’s here to take that away from him. Not for the first time, she wonders if they should be doing this.

Then she recalls the painful but relieving feeling of getting her own memories back. Yoshizawa Sumire back. She recalls the boy beside her who’d do quite literally anything to get rid of this reality. She recalls a busy street, blood pooling on the concrete.

Sumire focuses. If not for herself, or for Akechi, then she’d focus for Kasumi.

“I’m happy for you,” she says, meaning every word. “How did Kurusu-senpai react?”

“Oh, that guy? I haven’t told him yet, so let’s keep it between us, y’know what I’m sayin’?” Ryuji goes for a wink, though it’s definitely closer to a blink.

Akechi coughs. “Is there a reason you haven’t told him yet? You both are quite…close, after all.”

“He’s been tough to contact the past week,” Ryuji shrugs, and neither of them mention that working with a Palace ruler probably consumes a good chunk of one’s leisure time. “I really wanna surprise him, though! Considering that he supported me more than anyone when it comes to track.”

“That’s kind of him,” says Akechi.

“Well, yeah. Both of us had to deal with Kamoshida toge…ther…” he seemed to listen to what he was saying, and stops abruptly. Any excitement that was on his face is wiped clean. Finally.

“How did you deal with Kamoshida together?” Akechi asks slowly. They had to be careful—this is their last shot.

“It, uh,” he purses his lips. “It was an accident at first, I think. Didn’t mean to.” Eyes sliding shut, he mutters, mostly to himself. “It was raining, I remember that. So why can’t I…?”

The two of them lean forward unconsciously as they gauge Ryuji’s reaction.

“You’ve got this, Sakamoto-senpai,” Sumire prompts gently.

It isn’t too different from watching someone do a math problem and seeing them do one, tiny thing wrong; seeing that tiny mistake being overlooked, even though it’s so obvious to the observer. He is so close, one breath away from—

“Sakamoto!”

Ryuji jerks, eyes flinging open and her heart sinks, irritation blossoming towards this random athlete who unknowingly jeopardized their known reality.

“Uh, yeah!” he calls back, shaking his head as if ridding himself of a bad dream. “Be there in a sec!”

“If that pesky runner is in Mementos, I swear he’ll be dead by tomorrow,” Akechi mummers darkly, because he always takes things too far.

“Sorry, gotta bail,” Ryuji apologizes. He still looks slightly unsettled, a little unnerved. “It was good to see you. We should grab some food sometime!”

“Wait!” Sumire blurts out before he can leave. She scrambles for something to say, finding the thought of their failure unbearable. “If—if you change your mind (or start to remember), we’ll both be in Odaiba tomorrow! At the stadium, to be exact,” she tries for a reassuring smile. “You were there in the summer, remember?”

“If I change my mind…?” he repeats, blinking. “Nah, you guys are wild. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but thanks for the invite. Later!”

He throws double peace signs up before joining his track mates once more, laughing and shoving each other in a way only teenage boys can pull off.

“An outstanding zero to seven loss,” Akechi dictates with a dead voice. “What a team we make. I’m floored.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice!” Sumire exclaims, slapping her hand to her forehead. “I literally saw him running, and I didn’t put the pieces together.”

He shakes his head. “How are you focusing on his wish?” Akechi asks, leaning against the stone pillar near him. “It doesn’t matter what his wish is. The point is, we lost. We wasted this week, and we don’t have a choice other than to confront Kurusu alone.”

“You forgot about the whole point of our plan, Akechi. Just because his friends didn’t realize the truth right away, doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“They probably won’t.”

“We’ll just have to see, then. If Kurusu-senpai has one talent, it’s his natural…thing, with people. You get what I mean, right?”

“No.”

“Liar. And hey!” Sumire gives him a pointed look. “You aren’t doing this alone! We’re working together—like two peas in a pod.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten our oath of team spirit. But still, that doesn’t change the fact that with the combined powers of Maruki and Kurusu, we’re as good as dead,” he says, and pauses. “Unless Maruki isn’t there.”

Sumire frowns, “Even if we could, I don’t think we should kidnap a doctor.”

“I meant that he might willingly not be there. He’s quite democratic and trusting—I can see that he might leave this in Kurusu’s hands. Don’t be fooled, though. If Kurusu wanted us gone, we probably would be.”

“I can’t imagine that he would ever do something like that.” The idea of Akira using his powers in that way… she doesn’t even want to indulge in the thought.

“He won’t,” Akechi agrees. “He never shoots to kill when it comes to real people,” he sighs. “A weakness on his part.”

“But you’re still saying that we should fight senpai. Fight Kurusu Akira.”

“I’m saying we should beat some sense into him. Convince him like we tried to convince all of his little gremlins, except we succeed this time around,” his face pinches together, as if he had something sour. “It’s not as if we have a choice.”

She hesitates, despite knowing that Akechi’s right. He scoffs at her. “Worried about scratching up the pretty boy? Trust me—we couldn’t finish him off even if we tried.”

It’s a little worrying to see how sure he is that Akira is apparently very difficult to murder. “Fine,” Sumire relents. “But I’m still going to hope for the best with his friends.”

“Then I’ll prepare for the worst, as per usual.”

A water droplet hits Sumire’s cheek, startling her. She looks up to be greeted by dark clouds.

“It’s raining.”

“I suppose we should rest for today, considering what we’re up against.”

“Hold on,” Sumire says, feeling bold. “The Metaverse—I’m still a little unsure about all that but bear with me—is about the strength of the heart and cognition, right?”

“Yes?” he nods at her in a go on manner.

“So, hypothetically, if we got some…cognition strengthening breakfast food together—”

“No.”

“I think it would be beneficial to us!” she says. It really did seem like a good idea when she first thought it up, but she really should’ve expected the resistance that comes with it; Akechi seems to hate the notion of fun. “The way you looked at my plate from back then is still stuck in by brain on loop—”

“That look is called disgust—”

“It would be really fun! Or um, not fun, but advantageous to the strength of our—our Personas?”

She’s grasping at straws, but optimism is one of her better traits. Still, Akechi’s withering glare is proving to be a tough foe. Sumire’s not going to back down, though. Whether she wanted it to happen or not, she finds herself liking his company more and more despite his thorns (many, many thorns).

Sumire couldn’t help but break out into a grin when Akechi speaks, voice void of any emotion:

“I’m picking this time. IHOP is an abomination.”

—

She didn’t think that hole-in-the-wall breakfast cafes existed, and if she did, she most definitely never would’ve guessed that Akechi would be leading her to one.

Laughing out loud at the situation would grant her a death wish through Loki, but it’s impossible not to. The light pastel shades of the cafe are comically paradoxical to Akechi’s eternal conniving expression and tone, yet the employees seem to light up when he enters and even greet him by name.

He orders without even looking at the menu and she decides to get two of whatever he’s getting; partly because she has no idea what to get, mostly out of curiosity.

They seat themselves in one of the frilly booths and once the food arrives, she has to physically stop herself from drooling.The three tall stacks of pancakes were steaming, thick, fluffy, and perfectly golden brown. The neapolitan ice cream was placed precariously on top, slowly melting and all completely drizzled in chocolate and strawberry syrup. Akechi almost looks like he wants to tell her that it physically isn’t possible to fit both stacks inside of her, but she’s already halfway through her first stack by the time he eats a forkful.

Unable to hold back, Sumire brings up his comment from back when they all went to the Kichijoji cafe with Akira.

“Oh, that?” Akechi reaches over to grab the syrup bottle. “I said I didn’t like sweet bread. Sweets are, in and of itself,” he pours an alarming amount of strawberry syrup on his plate. “Not bad.”

The conversation is light—none of the darker topics that were present during their darts game. Sumire hesitatingly asks him what it’s like to work with the police as a detective. She wasn’t expecting a detailed point-by-point explanation about the cops being the most ‘incompetent people who have ever wielded any amount of power, and yes I’m counting Mona in his normal cat form.’

In turn, Akechi seems genuinely interested in Sumire’s athletic career, wondering if her skills help her fight in the Metaverse.

Eventually, they even start talking about more mundane topics; clubs that they might have been participating in (“Gymnastics, obviously” and “Detective work if that counts, but not so much anymore”), what Akechi’s high school is like (“Boring, but I get excused often enough that it makes it bearable”), if they’re on social media much (“Yes! But my smartphone can barely open up any apps” and “I have a phone number and an email—that should be enough”).

Despite Akechi’s ever-present clipped comments, Sumire has to admit that this was all a nice change of pace. She’s having fun, sitting here, eating pancakes and talking. And if his replies were getting less snippy and more talky, maybe he’s feeling the same way.

Even if it’s only for an afternoon, even if they have to fight their counselor who now apparently controls reality, even if they have to fight Kurusu Akira—

It’s nice to just act like two teenagers with a sweet tooth for a day.

—

It’s just as cold as it was a week ago.

They’ve already been transformed into their Metaverse customers, and it’s blessedly warmer near the elevator than it is on the outskirts. None of that matters though; not with them standing in front of Maruki’s Palace once again.

“It has a certain beauty,” Sumire comments. “The Palace.”

“It’s a safety hazard, is what it is. Realistically, these would all crumble like tissue paper without Maruki holding it all up.”

“Still,” the abnormal swirls and teetering light fixtures possess a charm that she finds lovely in it’s own way. “I can admire it for what it is.”

Akechi nods at the elevator, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.”

He stops. “What?”

“Kurusu-senpai gave sort of a battle plan before we went in,” Sumire reminded him. “Do you have one?”

“Hit him harder than he hits you,” Akechi pulls out his serrated steel, reflecting the light of the entrance hall. “Other than that, don’t die, and don’t fall behind.”

All things considered, it isn’t the worst pep talk she’s ever heard.

They start off to the depths of the Palace. The journey to see Akira is different without him present, but it’s as if the shadows are purposefully less aggressive with them—whether it’s because Maruki wants them to get there safely or what, but it lets them traverse through the lab with a fair amount of ease.

An announcement rings through the grand halls. “VIP patients identified. We will now begin the grand tour—please head to the auditorium through the door on your left.”

Definitely Maruki, then.

“How kind of them to politely inform us of their location,” Akechi remarks, and they head further inward.

They pass by what looks like research centres—powerpoints plastered by pie charts and numbers, shadows giving lectures on cognition (which is a strange sight to see), brain scan posters and lab coats strewn about. Sumire imagines that this might be what a university would look like in amidst of organized chaos.

Turning the corner, a double-door awaits them.

“Alright,” Sumire steels herself, hand finding her rapier’s hilt. “I hope senpai’s ready for us.”

“Trust me,” he reaches out to grab the handle. “He will be.”

A hallway meets them when they pass through. A long, white staircase elegantly leads them down and into what looks like a small version of a football stadium—seats filled up with faceless shadows and unlit theatre lights are hung from the beams above. Maybe it’s because this area has an uncanny resemblance to her competition venues, but she feels a tingle run down her spine: the feeling of anticipation.

They walk to the centre of it with caution, footsteps slow yet it resounding out all the same. She glances forward, squinting slightly against the darkness; a set of stairs that lead atop a stage are laid out in front of them, carpeted and plush. Ready for a performance.

Suddenly, all the lights flash on, white fluorescence blaring down on them mercilessly. Sumire and Akechi cringe against the unrelenting assault on their corneas.

“Welcome back.”

On top of the steps stood Akira, cloaked in his black Phantom Thief garb and drenched in blinding lights.

“I’m glad you two seem to be doing good. Honestly, I was a little nervous at first,” he descends the staircase, unhurried, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Looks like I was worried for nothing.”

“Worried? About us?” Akechi levels him with an incredulous look. “We aren’t the ones who are actively advocating the side of brainwashing.”

“I’m advocating the side of my friends being happy again,” he corrects firmly, turning to make eye contact with Sumire. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that they weren’t happy, that they weren’t over the moon with euphoria. If you can tell me that, then I’ll join you in the fight against Maruki.”

Gazing into Akira’s eyes, Sumire opens her mouth, before looking away.

“That’s what I expected,” he shrugs, “It’s nice seeing them happy, right? But I’m not stupid—that won’t stop you two. You’re nearly as stubborn as I am.”

“Senpai,” she pleads. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Neither do I. But you need to get Maruki to revert reality back to what it was,” Akira adjusts his gloves, and they both tense. “And to get to him, you have to get through me.”

“He’s really not backing down, isn’t he?” she mutters, her heart rate picking up rapidly.

Akechi snarls. “The tide sooner stop washing up before he quits being a fucking idiot.”

“You guys ready?” Akira calls. His tone is light, but there’s an undeniable glint to his eyes, similar to how the edge of a knife reflects light, and spreads his arms out. “Give it all you’ve got.”

Sumire meets Akechi’s eyes, and they nod.

They had a strategy, as loose as it was; there’s strength in numbers, and for once they have the advantage—pin him down, corner him, whatever they can manage, and incapacitate him until he listens to what they have to say. While this plan would certainly be more effective with more people, two should be enough to get the job done.

The air whistles around them as they dart forward, masks burning blue.

“Give him hell, Loki!”

The monochrome trickster bursts from the cinders with its eyes dead set on Akira. He raises a heavy hand and brings down his blade, slamming into the flooring as if it was warm butter, but Akira was already gone—he had hopped away just in time, giving them a cocky little smile.

Akechi snarled and swung again, only for Akira to bend backwards as if he’s in the most crucial game of limbo in recorded history, Laevatein missing him by an inch.

Before he can straighten himself again, Sumire shouts, “Dance, Cendrillon!”

As if the bells of midnight were calling her, a woman of glass and elegance manifests, white cloak blowing back from an unknown wind. A burst of light shoots from her crystal form but Akira had expected it, turning his bend into a backwards roll, not even trying to hide his grin. She’s starting to think that he was lying to her when he said he had no history with gymnastics. Maybe once this is all done, she could introduce him to her coach.

This back and forth continues, black and white and red all clashing together without anyone finding a target at all—that is, if Akira even had a target to begin with.

It’s as maddening as it is impressive to see him dodge and parry every attack; a hop here, a tilt there. It’s almost as if he knows what they were going to do before they even did it. It’s glaringly obvious why, yet it was another simple fact they overlooked—he was their leader, the person who made sure they had two, three, four possible strategies in their back pocket going into every fight. If not to ensure victory, then he does it to make sure that each and every one of them were capable enough to keep themselves safe.

But that just makes it all the more impossible to gain the upper hand.

By the time Akira had traversed nearly half the stadium in his evasion, not a hair out of place and unperturbed, Akechi and Sumire were breathing hard.

“He has,” Sumire gasps between breaths. “No intention of hitting us.”

“Dammit,” he hisses. “He’s turning this into a stamina battle.”

“Did you guys think I’d attack?” Akira frowns. Squinting at Sumire, he rummages through his pockets and tosses something to her. She catches it on instinct and peers down at the bottle of Arginade in her hand.

“It isn’t much, but I don’t want you hurting yourselves over this. I’d, uh, give one to Akechi too, but I think he’d throw it at my head or something.”

“Thank you,” Sumire sets the bottle down gingerly. “But I don’t think I should.”

“Suit yourself.”

“He’s wasting our time,” says Akechi. He points his steel at the corridor behind Akira. “Let’s just move past and find Maruki ourselves.”

She nods and they take a step forward before—

“Come, Black Frost.”

A flash of blue and a split second is all it took for the hallway’s entrance to be completely concealed in thick ice. “If you do that though, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“That wall won’t be enough to stop Cendrillon, senpai.”

“Probably not,” Akira agrees, gloved hand touching an invisible mask. “But a week was a lot of time to mix up some Personas.”

The implication makes Sumire swallow—Akechi wasn’t exaggerating.

“We have to stop him here,” she says quietly. “Even if we got lucky and ran, there’s no way we can reach Dr. Maruki with senpai trying to catch us.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Unfortunately. We can’t win against him in a battle of stamina, but if we move fast and hit hard enough, we can catch him off guard.” His eyes flicker at Akira watching them speak, posture relaxed. “I’ve never had to reserve energy in a fight much, so this is the best plan with what we have.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t hold back,” Akechi huffs the same time Sumire says, “Don’t kill him.”

And then they sprint forward, rapidly closing in the distance to Akira.

Akechi meets her look before they split off wordlessly, approaching their target from either side.

“Hit him hard, Loki!”

“Aid me, Cendrillon!”

Curse and bless, dark and light come at Akira like a hand of judgement, narrowly escaping by flipping backwards with one hand and throwing out the other. “Let’s go, Yoshitsune.”

And like a scene from a classic Japanese period tale, a swordsman emerges from the embers, dual-wielding Katanas in either hand. WIth an air of divinity, he slices sideways, forcing the two to jerk away.

Perhaps it’s the effect of the Metaverse, its link to cognition, but the use of words became futile beyond the calling of their Personas—she can judge what Akechi had in mind without language just as he can support her in her strikes, where to stand so they don’t get caught in each other’s crossfire.

Sumire pulls out her rapier and swipes at Akira’s torso but it’s too slow; he shifts out of the way and again to dodge Akechi’s bullets like a true Phantom Thief—as elusive and hard to catch as mist.

“You’re pulling your punches, Yoshizawa!” Akechi shouts.

“I’m not trying to kill him!” Cendrillon moves her own weapon impossibly quick, glowing lines appearing midair like a child drawing on paper, and it all bursts in unison—slicing through everything indiscriminately, yet Akira remains untouched.

“Give me some credit,” he calls, coattail swishing stylishly. “I don’t think I’m doing too bad.” Yoshitsune dashes forward, armor glinting and steel sparking as lightning shoots from his katanas, several inches to Sumire’s right. It leaves her hair filled to the brim with static.

Exhausting as their back and forth was, Akira hadn’t once attacked them directly. Even when they roll or sidestep, every movement is accounted for and he adjusts his blows in turn—close enough for them to stagger back from him, but never enough for them to be touched. The message was clear: I’d never hurt you, but there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you win, either.

Still, Sumire wipes her glistening temple as Loki brings down his blade where Akira was and into the ground, the collision forceful enough to make the stage lights above rattle. It’s beginning to be clear that it would be near impossible to maintain Akira’s pin-point accuracy, given his lack of compromise on it. His rolls are getting lethargic, backflips half-assed; whether he knew it or not, he’s beginning to slow down.

And Akechi is starting to get desperate.

Precise swings from before are losing control, wild ones taking place instead.

Akira reaches up once more. “Lend me a hand, Metatron.”

What looks like an archangel crafted during the industrial revolution bursts forth where Yoshitsune once stood, eyes filled with divinity and judgement as he launches a small army of rainbow, psychokinetic spheres around Akechi’s vicinity, but fatigue causes a slight miscalculation—one of the pink orbs barely grazes his brown hair, causing him to flinch back from shock.

It didn’t hurt, it couldn’t have hurt, but it’s the first hit the Akira had landed all day, accidental or otherwise.

A beat passes as they both freeze, and Sumire slows when she sees the expression on Akira’s face, unobstructed by his mask; all the bravado, the cockiness and boldness is gone like it was never there. In its place, a gaunt, horrified look.

“I…” he breathes, unnaturally pale. “Shit, I’m sorry. Here, just…” he starts rummaging through his pockets, hands shaking. “I know I have a bead in here somewhere, just let me—” Akira’s voice cracks. “Dammit, of course I can’t find it when I actually—why can’t I—”

Akechi takes an uneasy step backwards, overexertion threatening to take over. As if it weighs a hundred pounds, he raises an arm, red eyes disturbingly bright and dead-set on Akira.

Sumire feels her breath catch in her throat; she’s in a clear position to see it happen. Akira is still frantically looking through his stuff, an overwhelming guilt seeming to cloud his senses. Akechi, in his state of mind and body, is refusing to see the facts in favor of following his instincts—because even now, he still truly believes that Akira will remain untouched, no matter what.

Because, to Akechi, he is Kurusu Akira.

“Come, Loki!”

“Goro, wait!” Sumire cries.

Time slows down as Loki raises his blade, serrated steel exuding a curse potent enough to bring down any archangel to its knees several times over. And Akira looks up, eyes wide and dilated, but it’s too late to do anything other than take a deep breath and tense himself for the devastating blow—

Footsteps resound behind them, light and fast, and before Sumire can even turn around, a familiar voice yells out:

“I don’t fucking think so.”

Sakamoto Ryuji sprints past her and as Loki brings down his sword, stands directly in front of Akira, arms wide and acting like a barricade between him and the rest of the world.

#goro akechi #sumire yoshizawa #kasumi yoshizawa #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #pegoryu #akiryu #fanfic #writing #mine #p5 #persona 5 #p5r #persona 5 royal #this chapter gave me the will to live during quarantine #11k..... jesus......#blinding lights #fic tag

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

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[HPHM Ficlet] For a Smile, They Can Share the Night

Inspired by this post by @hogwartscursebreaker! This is set at the beginning of year 6 and features a piece of mediocre art by yours truly at the end, under the cut. I mean, come on, how could I not take the opportunity to draw my ghost boy?

Hope you enjoy! <3

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

It had been a very, very long day at Hogwarts. With the advent of the Statue Curse, Carewyn knew it was more important than ever to find the last Cursed Vault as soon as possible. In the midst of that development, though, Fred and George had mentioned spotting her brother, Jacob Cromwell, near the Forbidden Forest -- once they’d gotten back to school, Carewyn resolved to follow up with Filch about it first thing the following morning.

‘If Jacob’s here, he might already have a lead about the Vault,’ she thought. ‘Then we can break the curse together...and end this whole thing, once and for all...’

She exhaled heavily. After running around the school all day and sharing the same space with two separate Dungbombs, she knew a nice bath was in order. So after dinner, Carewyn changed into her black and teal swimsuit in the girl’s dorm, put her uniform and skirt on top of it, and headed up to the Prefect’s Bathroom.

‘I was thinking of checking in on Duncan, anyway,’ thought Carewyn ‘though not under these circumstances...’

What circumstances she would’ve chosen instead, however, she honestly wasn’t sure. Carewyn had been able to use bringing food she’d made as an excuse to visit her friend Torvus, but with Duncan, she was at a loss. She couldn’t ask him to join her for a sandwich in the Great Hall or bring him any sort of gift, like a new book or food dish -- what would a ghost do with any of those things? Carewyn honestly wasn’t even sure if ghosts could really touch anything -- Peeves could, of course, but poltergeists were never alive to begin with, so they no doubt had different rules than ghosts.

With a quiet sigh through her nose, Carewyn pushed the door of the Prefects’ Bathroom open. To her relief, it was abandoned.

Her voice echoed slightly off of the tiled walls as she called,

“Duncan?”

There was no answer.

Carewyn closed the door behind her, heading over to the bathroom stalls. She peeked inside the one she’d last seen Duncan pop out of.

“Duncan?”

But he wasn’t there.

Feeling a pang of disappointment, Carewyn exhaled heavily, before quickly stripping off her collared shirt, skirt, socks, and shoes. Once she was just in her swimsuit again, she folded her clothes and placed them and her shoes in a neat pile in front of one of the sinks. Then she snatched up a stack of fluffy white towels and headed to the giant, empty bathtub.

It took a few minutes to fill the pool-like tub with water, baby blue bubbles, and lavender bath salts. Fortunately when Carewyn turned off the faucets and finally lowered herself little by little into the warm bath, it was just the right temperature.

The Slytherin Prefect gave a loud, relaxed sigh. She bobbed up and down in the water for a moment, enjoying the heat rippling over her sour muscles, before completely submerging herself in the bubble bath. The moonlight from the surrounding windows created pretty, translucent spotlights on the marble-tiled floor.

Carewyn came up for air, brushing her wet ginger hair out of her eyes.

It’d been a while since she’d really pampered herself. Admittedly, she would’ve preferred to just not sweat like crazy or get any Dungbomb stink on her, but she supposed if she had to, at least she had a nice place to go afterwards.

“Da da da-da-da-da, da da da-da-da-da...”

Carewyn hummed absently under her breath as she swam over to the faucet and fetched some shampoo for her hair. She lathered it into her scalp, singing absently to herself.

“Just a small town girl...livin’ in a lonely woooorld~...she took the midnight train going anywhere...”

The Slytherin Prefect dipped her head under the water again to wash the shampoo out of her hair. As she came up again, she gave a start at what she heard.

“Just a city boy...born and raised in south Detroit...”

Another voice -- a male one -- was echoing out of the pipe Carewyn had just fetched her shampoo from.

Carewyn gave a start, splashing water and blue bubbles in surprise.

“Duncan!?”

Sure enough, a second later, streaking out from one of the pipes was a sliver of blueish white mist that turned out to be a laughing Duncan Ashe.

“Merlin’s beard -- you should’ve seen your face just now! You looked...well, like you’d seen a ghost!”

He laughed even harder.

Carewyn brushed her wet bangs out of her eyes, frowning reproachfully.

“Well, you startled me! What were you doing in there anyway? Aren’t you usually in the stalls?”

Duncan crossed his arms, his eyebrows raising dully. “I’m not Moaning Myrtle -- I didn’t just decide to haunt one bloody toilet the rest of my...well...not life, but you know.”

Carewyn eased herself up in the tub, leaning her back and arms against the side of the tub.

“...Well, I’m glad you showed up,” she said dryly, “however rude your entrance was. I was hoping I’d catch you.”

Duncan leaned backward so that he was hovering on his back in mid-air, his arms under his head, as he looked down at Carewyn.

“Oh, really? What is it this time? Got to convince Peeves to give you his bell hat next? Or do you just need help dealing with the Cursed Vaults again?”

Carewyn shook her head. “No. I just thought it’d be good to see you.”

This clearly took Duncan aback. He stared down at Carewyn, his expression losing all hint of humor or cynicism and his mouth hanging open slightly.

“...Oh. I -- I see. Um...”

His translucent cheeks started to darken with a flush as he looked away in embarrassment.

Carewyn’s eyes softened slightly.

She’d sort of expected Duncan might feel that way -- like she only came to see him because she wanted something. It was part of the reason why she’d gone out of her way to visit Pitts and Torvus, so that neither of them ever felt like they were just tools to her. Carewyn appreciated them and the help they’d given her too much for that, and she certainly wouldn’t want to feel like someone was just using her, if their positions were switched. She hated feeling like that, whenever Rakepick...

Shoving the memory of the treacherous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher aside, the red-haired Slytherin swam over to the side of the tub, reaching for the towel on the side so she could wring some water out of her ear.

Duncan watched her out the side of his eye.

“...If you need to get out of the tub, don’t worry about it,” he said lowly. “I won’t perv on you or anything stupid.”

Carewyn blinked, startled.

‘Oh yeah -- I guess under most circumstances, it’s not really cool for a guy to watch a girl bathing, huh?’

“I...didn’t think you would,” she admitted sheepishly. “I mean, I am wearing a swimsuit.”

Duncan snorted. “I know dudes who have fantasized about less visible skin. I haunt the Prefects’ Bathroom, remember?”

“Yeah, but...you’re a ghost,” Carewyn said with a weak laugh. “And I’m your friend’s sister, there...is a slight age gap there...”

“Technically no, given that I died at 17,” said Duncan breezily. “But yes, even if I had been attracted to girls back in the day, it’s not like I can feel anything hormonal without a body.”

Carewyn frowned more deeply as she put down the towel on the side of the tub. “Well, I’m all the more glad it’s just us, then.”

‘How weird would someone have to be, to get all flustered just because they saw a girl in something you can see at any beach in the country?’ she thought disdainfully.

Duncan rolled over in mid-air so that he was now floating on his stomach and rested his head in his hands.

“You really are weird,” he said lowly.

Carewyn cocked an eyebrow at him, a bit miffed, but Duncan for once didn’t smile. His light-less eyes drifted up to the window behind her as he drifted into silence.

“...Do you always sing when no one else is around?” he said abruptly after a long minute.

Carewyn’s irritation ebbed away. She felt herself smiling slightly as she swam up to the window ledge and climbed up onto it, letting her feet dangle off the edge into the warm water.

“I sing all the time.”

Duncan’s eyes softened a bit, even as his lips curled up in a more familiar wry smirk.

“Of course you do,” he said in an oddly hushed voice.

He ignored Carewyn’s curious look, his voice becoming a bit more brusque.

“At least you’ve got better taste in music than your brother. I swear, every time I caught him humming ABBA while he was working without realizing it, I just wanted to turn into a Demiguise and disappear all together...”

Carewyn had to cover her mouth with both hands as she burst out laughing.

“He hummed ABBA? He was always so embarrassed whenever he listened to them at home -- he never, ever wanted me to see him dancing to their songs, he always shut the door of his room -- ”

Duncan grinned mischievously. “He was a right ‘Dancing Queen,’ wasn’t he?”

Carewyn stifled her giggles behind her hands. Once she’d effectively contained her amusement, she gave Duncan a broader smile.

“What music did you like best?”

Duncan’s legs drifted lackadaisically under him as he absently drifted backwards.

“Celestina Warbeck was my first set of records -- they were my mum’s. But your brother got me some Olivia Newton-John for Christmas in first year -- then Don McLean and the Osmonds, after that.”

Carewyn beamed. “Oh, Don McLean’s stuff is lovely. The poetry he uses is just beautiful. Like in Vincent -- morning fields of amber grain...weathered faces, lined in pain...”

“...are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand,” Duncan finished the line.

His mouth had spread into a broad smile the likes of which Carewyn had never seen before. It made his face look so much younger and more handsome than it ever had previously.

“You’re more of an Elton John lass, though, aren’t you?” he asked.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows.

“I do like Elton John, yeah,” she agreed, slightly confused.

Duncan’s eyes softened as he glanced up toward the ceiling, bringing his hands behind his head, and he crossed his legs so he was sitting on air.

“The first time...I heard anything about you...was when you’d sent your brother a Howler of yourself singing an Elton John song for him.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together as she frowned.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” laughed Duncan. Even his laughter, however, seemed softer than before -- almost nostalgic. “Jacob had said you wanted him to hear this song you’d heard on the radio -- and since electricity doesn’t work here, you decided to sing it for him yourself!”

He laughed again at the memory, more loudly and brightly.

“You sounded like some wee little banshee!”

Carewyn crossed her arms, trying to scowl at Duncan. But despite herself, she found herself unable to. She’d so rarely heard Duncan talk civilly about her brother...and especially not with...such fondness in his eyes...

As Duncan’s laughter slowed, his light-less eyes crinkled up slightly.

“I guess it’s good you’ve improved in that regard, at least.”

Carewyn considered Duncan, incredibly interested despite herself. She rested her arms on top of her knees, leaning forward slightly.

“I didn’t know you knew me, before. I mean, I know you said you knew Jacob had a sister, but...I didn’t think you knew me at all.”

The smile on Duncan’s face seemed to flicker and die as his gaze returned to Carewyn. His blue-tinted eyes, which had been so fond, suddenly looked very haunted.

“...Of course I knew you,” he said softly.

His voice trailed off as he stared at Carewyn. He swallowed, and then turned his back and swept off, looking faintly huffy.

“As if your brother didn’t blab about you, every chance he got -- just like he never shut up about anything...”

Carewyn could tell Duncan was trying to act tough, however. She glanced away, her blue eyes trailing over a cluster of baby blue bubbles in the tub.

“I knew you too, you know,” she said gently.

Duncan’s frame stiffened.

“I remember Jacob got all these letters. He always said they were from someone called ‘Ashe.’ I’d thought at the time it was someone’s first name -- like he had a friend named Ash, or maybe even Ashley. But Jacob never let Mum or me read those letters -- he kind of hoarded them, like they were from a secret lover or something...”

Carewyn smiled slightly despite herself, even though she looked upon Duncan’s back with pity.

“I didn’t make the connection until I heard your name, but...yeah, those letters I remember -- the ones Jacob would send almost every day of summer break -- they all went to you.”

Duncan was very quiet. His head had fallen visibly and his shoulders had slackened -- but even as the minutes dragged by, he didn’t respond. Carewyn wondered if perhaps he didn’t know how.

At last, Carewyn decided that she didn’t want to talk about Jacob anymore. As much as it meant to her, to know that Jacob had told Duncan about her and that Duncan didn’t hate her brother as much as he claimed, she could tell the memories were painful. And she didn’t want Duncan to be in pain -- goodness knows his situation was terrible enough as it was.

And so Carewyn supported herself on the window ledge with both hands, kicking her feet lightly in the water and tilting her head back slightly.

“A singer in a smoky room...the smell of wine and cheap perfume...for a smile, they can share the night -- it goes on and on and on and on...”

Duncan turned around. Whatever more conflicted emotions had been on his face were gone -- his eyes were glinting with some of their usual mischief again.

“Strangers!” he shot back. “Waiting!”

Carewyn beamed. “Up and down the boulevard, their -- ”

“Shadows! Searching!”

“In the niiiight~...”

Duncan’s mouth spread into a huge, white smirk as he floated back over, his volume rising.

“Streetlight! People!”

“Livin’ just to find emotion!”

“Hiding! Somewhere -- ”

“In the NIIIIIIIIGHT~!”

Before long, the two were subconsciously competing with each other to see who could sing Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing the loudest. Duncan at one point even tried to force Carewyn out of the running by making her laugh (through showing off his stellar air-guitar skills, no less). By the time they were done with the song, Carewyn was convinced that everyone on the entire floor had heard them.

‘Oh well,’ she thought to herself as she headed back to the Slytherin common room, her cherry red lips still spread in a huge, bright smile. ‘I guess blowing out my voice every-so-often isn’t the worst thing ever, if it cheers Duncan up a little.’

#my writing #fanfiction #hphm #hogwarts mystery #duncan ashe #jacob's sibling #jacob #jacob cromwell #carewyn cromwell #my art

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dlwritings · 5 years

Text

Arms | Peter Parker

masterlist found here

pairing - Peter x reader word count - 3.587 warnings - 3 year age gap (but Peter’s 18 so don’t come at me), oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex A/N - Alright let me live okay I needed to write this so I can get out all these inappropriate thoughts I have about this 18-year-old from my church forgive me Lord for I sin every Sunday at the sight of his arm muscles. (Seriously. These are Tom-level arm muscles, okay? He scratched his head and I about moaned in the middle of the service.) I blame you, Christ above, for my strong desire to rob the cradle.

summary - You’re an intern for Stark Industries, and Peter Parker is Spider-Man. You see him almost everyday, and the stupid kid’s got you feeling some type of way. At what point is it considered cradle robbing?*

Music blasted through the Avengers compound at 10:00 on a Friday night.

It was crowded with too many people, some you knew, but most you didn’t. You liked the parties that Tony threw. They usually happened after successful battles or on someone’s birthday. Tonight’s was to celebrate a month without a mission. For a long time, it seemed like disastrous events were never going to slow down, but when a month went by without an SOS call or an alien invasion, Tony felt like it was time for celebration. You knew you were Tony’s favorite intern at Stark Industries, but the fact was solidified for you even more when he pulled you aside after a meeting to make sure you were attending. He had announced an open invitation to the whole Stark Industries team, but you were the only one whose attendance he actually cared about. You were like another daughter to him.

So there you were, at the party, tequila lemonade in hand, swaying to the beat of the music. You recognized it as the new Ed Sheeran / Chance the Rapper song. You floated around the party, chatting with the people who said hi to you. Truthfully, your eyes were scanning the crowd for one specific person.

Peter Parker.

You went to high school with Peter. You were a senior when he was a freshman, and the only reason you really knew each other was because you were both on the academic decathlon team. Once you graduated, you saw him often at Stark Industries. He knew that superhero business probably couldn’t be a full time job, so he hovered around Pepper to see if he could fit in at a company like that. Pepper was busy a lot, so she tended to have Peter shadow you instead.

This had gotten increasingly difficult over the years for one reason and one reason alone.

Peter was a snack.

You had the most inappropriate thoughts about this boy. You felt like you were robbing the cradle just by looking at him. His jawline, his back, his chest, they all offended you.

And then there were his arms.

Jesus Christ, those arms.

You imagined sinful things when you looked at those arms. So muscular. So veiny. So hard. You wanted him to pin you down to the mattress and fuck you sensless.

Again, wildly inappropriate.

Despite Peter’s strikingly handsome face and wildly fit stature, he screamed virgin. You knew he never had a girlfriend, and it was clear as day that he was not the type for one night stands, especially not as a fresh high school graduate. Still, you couldn’t help it when your imagination ran wild. You thought about all the things you could teach him. It would be an honor to snatch that boy’s virginity.

You downed the last of your tequila lemonade and made your way over to the bar. Natasha stood behind the counter, mixing drinks and chatting with the people around her. At any party, you could always find her playing bartender. You assumed it was because standing behind the counter gave her control. She didn’t have to find people to mingle with, because people always approached her. It put her at ease in a situation that often left her uncomfortable. Nat was not a party person.

“Back for your third?” Nat asked with a grin as she started mixing your drink. You just gave her a sarcastic smile.

“You seen Peter around?” you asked, hoping your words didn’t sound as slurred as they felt. Nat sure made your drinks strong.

“I think I saw him talking to Tony earlier,” she said. She slid you your new drink which you took and immediately brought to your lips. “Downing that liquid courage, yeah?”

“Courage for what?” you quipped back.

“Oh come on,” Nat said. “You want to ride that boy like-”

“Shut up,” you laughed back. “Don’t be gross.”

“I’m just voicing what you don’t want to say out loud.”

You rolled your eyes and glanced around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of your favorite spiderboy. When you did, you about choked on your drink.

Your eyes found him just as he stretched his arm over his head and scratched the back of his neck. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, and all you could see were his arms. Those goddamn arms that gave you such inappropriate thoughts. You didn’t even say goodbye to Nat. You had your eye on the prize, and you made your way over to Peter.

He was talking to Tony when you approached him, and you decided to indulge yourself and lay a hand on his bicep to get his attention. “Hey, Peter,” you said, your voice calm and smooth. Peter jumped slightly and turned to you. He noticeably swallowed.

“H-Hey, (Y/N),” he said. “You-” He scanned your body not-so-discreetly. “-You look great.”

You gave his bicep an endearing (Inappropriate. It was inappropriate.) squeeze. That boy’s arm was rock hard. You were offended.

“Thanks,” you said, sliding your hand from his bicep down his arm until you let it drop at your side. You took another sip of your tequila lemonade and noticed Peter’s eyes staring at your lips. You licked them slowly and gave him a small smile. He swallowed thickly again, and Tony laughed and rolled his eyes, clapping Peter on the shoulder before leaving the two of you alone.

He was so endearingly awkward. It was the only way you could describe him. And why did his innocence make you feel so many wrong things?

“How does it feel to be out of high school?” you asked Peter. It was a dumb question. He had graduated over two months ago.

“It’s, it’s good,” he said. “I’m kind of ready for college though.”

“Really?” you said. Peter nodded. “Getting bored of following me around at Stark Industries?”

“No,” Peter said quickly. “No, no not at all. I just-” You laughed and laid a hand on his arm again. You couldn’t help it.

“I’m only teasing, babe,” you said. “I imagine it gets a little old.”

“I swear it doesn’t,” Peter said. “I love spending time with you.” You raised your eyebrows at him and felt one side of your lip raise in a smirk. You hid it behind your tequila lemonade. You offered your drink to Peter.

“Do you want some?” you asked.

“I’m, I’m not old enough to drink,” he stuttered.

“Not technically,” you said with a slight roll of your eyes. “But come on, hun. Live a little. It’s good.” Peter licked his lips and took the drink from your hand, bringing it to his mouth and taking a sip. His eyes went wide and he took another.

“This is good,” he said. You laughed as Peter drank some more.

“I’ll tell you what,” you said. “I’ll get myself a new one, and that can be all yours.”

“Really?” he said. You smiled and nodded. “Thanks!”

“I’ve got one condition though,” you said. Peter raised his eyebrows at you, urging you to continue. You shot him a playful wink. “Be here when I get back.” Peter’s cheeks turned pink, but he nodded. You giggled and left him, hurriedly going to Nat to get a new drink.

“Already?” Natasha teased.

“I gave Peter my other one,” you told him. Nat wiggled her eyebrows at you. “Let me live!”

When you went to Peter, he had already almost finished his drink. The two of you made your way to a couch and sat down, sipping your drinks and talking. You put your arm on the back of the couch and let your fingers play with the ends of his hair. You couldn’t help it. You were a little drunk and feeling very brave. You officially decided it was time to do something about these tingly feelings between your thighs.

“Peter?” you said, a slow smile growing on your face.

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember a few weeks ago, you asked me how old I am?” you asked him.

Peter was shadowing you at Stark Industries like any other day. You had both been quiet for most of the day, and Peter suddenly asked, “How old are you again?” You furrowed your eyebrows and smiled a little.

“I’m 21,” you said. “Why do you ask?”

“N-No reason,” he said, shaking his head and looking away from you. “No reason.”

“Y-Yeah,” he said. “I remember. Why?”

“Why did you ask?” you pressed. Peter swallowed thickly and started stuttering incoherent responses. “Were you trying to figure out how much older I am than you? To count the years between us? To see if it was weird to have a crush on me?”

“N-No,” he stuttered, quickly this time. “No. I wasn’t.”

“You don’t have to lie, Peter,” you said, a teasing tone in your voice. “I get it. It’s okay if you think about me that way.” He stuttered again, the apples of his cheeks turning a furious shade of red. You smiled devilishly and scratched your nails across his scalp as you played with his hair.

“I-I don’t,” he said. “I don’t. I swear, (Y/N).”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you said. “Because, you know what? You want to hear a secret?” Peter looked at you with his wide, brown eyes. “I think about you that way, too.”

“You, you do?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. Your nails scratched him again, gently grazing his neck, and you heard a soft whimper left his lips. “And you’re 18, aren’t you Pete?” you asked him. It was rhetoric. You knew the answer.

“Y-Yeah,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Yeah. I’m 18.”

“Well then,” you said, bringing your lips to his ear, “that means we can do whatever we want, doesn’t it?” Peter let out a slightly more audible moan when you started kissing the underside of his jaw. “Show me to your room, baby, will you?”

Peter stumbled to quickly get off the couch, and you giggled and took his hand, allowing him to guide you through the compound and to the living quarters. As soon as you got behind his bedroom door, you closed it and pressed him up against it, kissing him with full force. Peter whimpered and put his hands gently on your waist. You could feel his touch was light and tentative, so you grabbed his hands and brought them down to your ass. “You can touch me, Peter,” you whispered against his lips. “I don’t mind.” He squeezed your ass tentatively, and you ground your hips into his. You could feel he was already hard, and he moaned against your lips when your body pressed up against his cock. “Should I take care of that for you?” you asked. Peter breathed out a barely audible yes as you sucked a spot on his jaw. “Mm, okay. How about I do that for you after you do something for me?”

“I don’t, I’ve never, I-” Peter stuttered foolishly, and you felt a little guilty. You didn’t want to pressure him into anything or make him feel bad in anyway. You pulled away from him and placed both of your hands on his cheeks.

“We don’t have to do anything, okay?” you said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Did I read this wrong? We can go right back out to the party and I’ll never-”

“No!” Peter said. “No. No, I want to. I just uh, I’m a little, uh, I’m kind of inexperienced or whatever.” You smiled and kissed Peter again, catching him a little off guard.

“That’s okay, baby,” you said once you pulled way. “I can show you.” You paused and brushed your thumbs across his cheekbones. “Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes,” Peter said with no hesitation. You smiled and grabbed his hand, tugging him along with you to his bed. You laid down and pulled him on top of you. Peter straddled your hips and kissed you, not needing you to direct him on this part. For someone ask inexperienced as him, he sure was a good kisser. He surprised you by kissing down your neck, leaving a few marks above the top of your dress.

“Peter,” you whimpered as he lightly bit your skin. “Shit.”

“Sorry,” Peter said, pulling away from you instantly. “Did you not want that?”

“Fuck, okay, honey you just gotta trust your instincts,” you said, desperation for his lips to be back on you crowding your thoughts. “Don’t question everything.” Peter blushed a little, and you bit your lip and brushed your fingers through his hair. “Tell you what? We’ll have a safe word. If I don’t like what you’re doing or you don’t like what I’m doing, we’ll say red. Does that sound good?”

Peter nodded and, without another word, started kissing down your body again. He passed over your torso since your dress was covering your skin and moved down to your thighs. With a little bit of hesitance, he pushed your dress up your body until it was resting just above your hips. He kissed your thighs and looked at your underwear, immediately noticing the wet patch. His curiosity got the best of him, and he pressed two fingers against your underwear. You immediately jerked at the feeling, so Peter pulled back. He looked up at you as you bit your lip and let out a heavy breath. “You’ll tell me what feels good, yeah?” Peter asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “You can take my underwear off.” Peter nodded and hooked his fingers in your underwear, tugging them down your legs. You swore you heard him mumble wow under his breath as he stared at you. He didn’t wait for you to tell him what to do. He kissed up your thighs and to your outer lips. He paid attention in health class. He watched porn. He had an idea of what to do.

Peter flattened his tongue against you and licked a long strip from the back of your cunt to the front. You hummed contently and threaded your fingers in his hair. He thrust his tongue inside you, tracing different letters and shapes like he read he should. It was nice, but you knew you needed more. “Baby,” you cooed after a few moments. He looked up at you, and you noticed his chin was glistening. The sight alone made you whimper softly. You collected yourself and laid your head back down on the pillow. “Can you use your fingers?” Peter nodded eagerly, though you didn’t see, and slowly slid not one, but two fingers into you. His fingers were longer than yours, reaching places you could never get to. “And then,” you breathed out, “oh shit. Keep, keep doing that with your fingers. And, mm, use your tongue on my clit. Do you, do you know where- oh fuck. Fuck, Pete.”

Yes, he knew where the clit was.

You tugged your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp rougher than they had been earlier at the party. Peter pulled his lips away from you only for a moment to stare up at you. He was in awe. Never did he think he would get to be in this position, but it was his new favorite place. He felt you clench around his fingers, so he sucked your clit between his lips again. “Oh, Peter,” you moaned, your voice sounding whiny. “Peter. P-Pete. I’m gonna cum.” Peter boldly wiggled a third finger inside you, and you started moving your body against his hand. “Yes. Just like that, baby. Yes. Yes.” You came, arching your back and covering your mouth with one hand to stifle the pornographic scream that wanted to crawl its way out of your throat.

When you came down from your high, Peter couldn’t help but rub his thumb against your clit again, wanting to see what the feeling would do to you now that you were sensitive. You jumped, letting out a mumbled fuck and pushing his head away. “Too much,” you whimpered. Peter grinned and swiped his fingers up and down your slit, gathering your wetness to rub your clit again. “Peter, Peter no more. Red. Red.”

“Sorry,” Peter said, pulling back from you. His mouth said sorry, but his eyes said he wasn’t in the slightest. You rolled your eyes and sat up, pushing your dress back to normal. You kissed him softly, tasting yourself on his lips. With your lips still pressed to each other’s, you turned and pushed him so he was sitting up against the headboard. You could see the bulge in his pants, so you grinned and rubbed your hand on his crotch. He tugged his lower lip between his teeth and watched you unbuckle his pants. You took them off followed by his boxers and watched his cock spring up and hit his stomach.

“This looks painful, baby,” you teased, rubbing his shaft slowly.

“It’s-” Peter took a sharp breath. “-It’s not that bad.”

“Don’t worry,” you cooed. “I’ll take care of it.” You got on your knees and bent at your waist, leaning forward and taking his cock in your mouth. You kept your cheeks hollow and took him all the way, ignoring your reaction to pull back when he hit the back of your throat.

“Oh my god,” Peter almost whined. You knew then that no one had ever sucked him off before. The thought made you squeeze your thighs together. You bobbed your head up and down, squeezing his balls slightly with one hand. Every time his cock hit the back of your throat, Peter’s hands clenched at his side. You took one of his hands and brought it to your hair, encouraging him to grip your strands in his fist. He did so, tugging your head slightly and starting to guide your movements. “(Y/N),” he moaned, his voice hoarse. “(Y/N), shit. I think, I, oh fuck.”

You couldn’t help but pull back, leaving him twitching and uncomfortable. He looked absolutely delicious when he wanted to cum as badly as he did. His cheeks were red, and there was a sheen of sweat across his forehead. You sat up and pulled you dress off your body, revealing that you weren’t wearing a bra. Before Peter could even say anything, you reached for his t-shirt and pulled it off of him as well. His chest was heaving as you crawled up his body and pressed your lips to his. You ground yourself against his cock, and he moaned softly. “I don’t, uh, shit, I don’t have a condom, (Y/N),” he said.

“You can pull out,” you said breathlessly.

“That’s not-” Peter cleared his throat, trying to keep his composure. “-That’s not a safe-”

“Christ, baby,” you giggled. “I was only teasing. I’m on the pill. And I’m clean.” Peter let out a breath of relief and nodded, kissing you hard again. He gripped your arms, and you had a feeling he was going to flip your bodies around. “No,” you protested. “Let me ride you.” Peter didn’t say anything, just nodded quickly.

You slid onto his cock and moaned as he stretched you. Peter moaned as well, never having felt anything like this before. He would never be able to masturbate the same again. It would never do the real thing justice. You slowly rode his cock, laying your hands on his chest. “You’re so big, Peter,” you whimpered in his ear, biting his earlobe. “Fill me up so good.”

“Shit,” Peter groaned, squeezing the flesh of your ass. Peter was already lasting longer than you expected him to, and you could feel yourself reaching your high again. His cock was hitting your g-spot every time you sunk down on him, and all you needed was some pressure on your clit.

“I’m almost there, baby,” you cooed. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah,” he whimpered. “(Y/N), shit, shit I wanna cum.” You started rubbing your clit, ready to meet his climax with your own. You had planned on giving him a warning, but your orgasm hit you without warning. You cursed and laid your forehead on his, riding out your high. Peter swore loudly and grabbed your hips, turning you around and pressing you against the mattress. He caught you completely off-guard when he started pounding into you. His hips snapped against yours, and his arms -those fucking arms- pressed yours into the mattress.

Your sinful thoughts were finally coming to fruition.

When Peter felt his cock twitch, he pulled out of you. You reached forward and grabbed his shaft, jerking him off until he came on your chest. Peter moaned out a fuck and hung his head, doing his best to catch his breath. You giggled, and he looked up at you. You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Peter smiled against your lips before you both pulled away.

“That,” you breathed out, “was-”

“Amazing?” Peter finished. “Incredible? Flawless? Fantastic?”

“Good,” you said, a smirk dancing across your lips. “But you’re a rookie, so there’s always room for improvement.” Peter frowned, his cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. “Looks like we’ll have to do this many, many more times until we get it absolutely right.”

At this, Peter laughed and kissed you again.

*”If x is the older person’s age then they are a cradle robber if they date a person who is less than half of their age plus 7 years” (Urban Dictionary, 2007).

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TAGLIST

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #smut #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spider-man #spider-man imagine #marvel #avengers #I'm going to hell

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thorongil82 · 4 years

Text

Forgotten But Not Gone

Fandom: Pokémon

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Word Count: 5,631

Can also be read on FFN and AO3

Summary: Ten years have passed since Ash disappeared from Pallet Town, with none of his companions and rivals knowing to where he vanished to. Now, the Pokémon Masters League, an event held every 20 years, is on once again, to find the strongest trainer in the world. Hosted in the Seishi region, who will be selected to compete in such a prestigious tournament? Will the event go ahead without a hitch, in a region still feeling the effects of the ravages of war? And will a certain young trainer resurface from the void to face what has happened?

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AN: So, here’s the story I mentioned in my update.

Decided to try my hand at one of those 'Ash disappears for x amount of time and returns for a tournament' stories, with a bit of a twist to both that and the 'Ash betrayed' concepts. It's not my first Pokémon story, though technically all that's been uploaded of the other is a prologue (over on FFN), so … more or less a new endeavour.

Now, to give a quick little bit of info, the events of this story start 10 years after the end of Ash's journey in Kalos, which is where this'll deviate from canon. We are starting from that 10 years later point, and I'll be drawing back to the events in that 10 year gap throughout, whether just as an allusion or an explanation, or as a flashback. I'll explain what happens with his Alolan journeys in the story too.

I'll have a bit more to say afterwards, so, please enjoy!

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Chapter 1 - The Frontier Is Set

The Seishi region; a land that had been ravaged by constant battles and war several years ago. Yet now, they stood in a shaky time of peace. A peace where, though the battling had come to a standstill for a few years, the people are still left recovering from their ordeals. But now, a new set of battles seem poised to engulf the region …

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The brightly lit stadium at the base of Mt Daybreak illuminates the surrounding buildings and landscape, with multiple coloured beams of light shining up into the night sky. Inside, many people are excitedly chatting with one another as they shuffle their way throughout the areas, collecting tickets, food, merchandise, or simply talking about who they believe will win tonight's oncoming battle.

Through this bustling crowd walks a group of five people. Leading at the front is a rather rotund man, clad in an aqua shirt with white Pokéballs and floral patterns typical of an Alolan design. Hanging from his neck is a pristine red Pokénav, folded down and compartmentalised, though not as shiny as his tinted sunglasses. A big grin is plastered on his face as he takes in the many people.

“Looks like we've arrived on fight night,” he grins, nodding in approval at all the spectators as a couple of kids dressed up in costumes – a girl in a small suit of flimsy fabric armour and a boy with wings on his back – dash in front of the group chasing after one another.

“Seems like it,” says one of the men behind him. Despite the slight wrinkles starting to grow on due to age, his yellow hair still stands wild, while he also wears a long sage green trenchcoat , a white turtleneck underneath and a pair of brown trousers. “Think there's any chance we can join in?”

“NO!” bellows the other man beside him, causing some people around the group to jump and glace at them. Meanwhile, the former just smirks unfazed as he grabs at his gloves and tightens them. “We are not here to battle with the locals, Palmer. We are here on business.”

“Aw, come on, Brandon,” Palmer says, looking towards the loud gentleman, adorned in a big buttoned cider green jacket and matching trousers, with thick brown hair with a few strands of grey threading through. “We're here as Frontier Brains. Surely if it's a tournament, we can just register and compete as well. We are supposed to be on the look out for strong trainers to challenge our branches wherever we go. Right, Scott?”

“Well, we shouldn't have too much trouble finding strong trainers here,” the round man leading the group chuckles. “Seishi's league has built up a reputation in its short lifespan for being strong. The gym leaders are known for being tough as nails, and the Elite Four even moreso. But, I don't think that tonight's battle is one you'll be able to join in on.”

“Come on, Scott,” Palmer groans. “It'll be fine if we take care of this business quickly, right? Then we've got all the time in the world to battle.”

“Those boys and their battles,” a woman sighs, trailing behind her companions as they continue bickering. The tallest in the group, she's donned in an outfit reminiscent of a Seviper, consisting of a purple halter neck crop top that shows off her slender figure, with long purple gloves on each hand, long black pants with a golden diamond pattern around her waist, and her long jet black hair cascading down her back, save for the red lowlights in the sides down her front.

She then turns back to the last member of their group. Another woman, her long shiny lilac hair is tied up at the base of her neck with a black ribbon before billowing out down her back to her waist. She wears a slim black blazer and matching tie, with a formal white shirt underneath, with skinny pants, shoes and gloves matching the rest of her jet black clothing. The woman is glancing around, her eyes quickly moving from one person to the next, as does those of the Espeon walking beside her, occasionally brushing her tail up against the woman's legs.

“Are you alright, Anabel?” the tall woman questions, dropping back slightly to walk beside her companion.

Anabel gives her a small nod in response, still keeping her eyes focused on the people around them.

“Epee?” calls up the Espeon at her feet, looking up at Anabel.

“I'm fine, really,” she reassures her Pokémon, all the while as a gloved hand slowly reaches into a pocket in her blazer. “Just a little anxious around this many people.”

Espeon lets out a purr and brushes herself against Anabel's legs, getting a small smile to cross her trainer's face, as her companion glances around, taking in the people who were getting more and more interested in their group. Though most of that was to do with the constant groans and insisting coming from Palmer, and the occasional bellowing denial from Brandon, the two women were also picking up some of the curious gazes due to them being part of the same group.

“Yeah, there's too many eyes on us,” she sighs, closing her eyes while clenching her hand into a fist. “If only Palmer could think of anything other than battling.”

She looks over to see Anabel give a short nod as she takes her hand out of her pocket and brings out three metallic balls, before holding the arm by her side and dropping the balls. They start to drop, only to hover in mid-air in a straight vertical line.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yeah, Lucy,” she nods as the balls start slowly moving in small circular motions as her fingers individually curl and flex.

The group continue moving on until they reach a desk with a few people standing behind it, while a couple of others quickly move away. One, a man with slicked back ashen brown hair and buzzed sides, catches Scott's eye as the group approaches.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes, my name is Scott, and these are Palmer, Brandon, Lucy and Anabel,” he replies, gesturing to each person as he says their names, them giving a polite nod as they are introduced, before reaching inside his shirt and pulling out a document. “We were invited here by the champion for a certain meetup.”

The attendant nods as he takes the papers and quickly looks over them, before looking back up at the group.

“Of course. If you'll all follow me?” he says, getting up from his seat, quickly leaning in to whisper something to another attendant at the desk before walking off, leading the group over to a side door and through.

The group are lead up into a lift and then through a few winding corridors until they are brought before a large door.

“Please wait in here,” the attendant says as he opens the door for them. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

He gives them a short bow and walks away, leaving the group of five to walk in.

Inside is a large room that looks a little like a repurposed conference room, with a few couches spread around the sides of the room along with several chairs set up around the room. A few tables had been pushed together in the middle, with different bowls of snacks and glasses for drinks sitting atop. Positioned at the far corner of the right wall of the room from where they came in was another door, with a tinted window stretching out along the wall, while directly opposite was a third door that seemed to lead out to a viewing box for the stadium. Finally, hanging on the wall opposite the entering group of Frontier Brains is a muted TV broadcasting someone, with a round face, a flat cap on top, and four weird spiny growths growing from their cheeks, giving their analysis of the battle to come, with another couch sitting underneath.

Also, sitting around the room are seven people. The first, a woman sitting on her own with long blonde hair stretching down her back and covering her left eye, draped in a long black cloak with jet black furry cuffs and trims, a tear drop shaped ornament hanging from the base of the v-neck, a black shirt underneath, and black formal pants. She is sitting on a couch happily licking a double scoop ice cream cone and ignoring the constant flirtations of the second, a man with red and brown hair fanned out in a spiky mane, wearing a tanned poncho-style cloak with a large collared black shirt, white pants and a chain of Pokéballs hanging round his neck. The third and fourth, a man with spiked scarlet hair and dressed in a navy blue tunic with blood orange trims and black cuffs, with matching pants and a long charcoal black cape draped over his shoulders, sitting on a couch talking to an old man with a long white bushy beard and long frizzy hair, wearing a crimson vest with a light and dark blue stripe across the middle, and a pair of khaki shorts.

The fifth, a man with teal blue hair, adorned in a white beret and cape, a teal shirt with white sleeves, and purple pants, leans up against a wall with his eyes closed and arms crossed, softly humming to himself. The sixth, a woman with a light brown star-like hair design, wearing an all white outfit consisting of a long sleeved blazer with golden trims scattered throughout with two lacy wing-like bulges sticking out of the back, a pair of short shorts, and a choker from which dangles a golden swan-shaped necklace encompassing a dazzling stone, closes her violet shadowed eyes as the seventh, another woman with pine green hair and red rimmed glasses wearing a grey suit, a white shirt underneath tied off with a thin cherry ribbon tying it off, continues to talk as she gestures to the leather-bound book in her hands. All heads swivel round to the group of five as they enter, as Scott gives them all a small wave, before a few return to what they were doing beforehand, if they were doing something in particular in the first place. With a nod to the rest of his group, Scott walks over to the scarlet haired man and the bushy bearded old man, leaving the others to their devices.

“Ah, Palmer, I take it you've been training hard since our last match?” the blonde haired woman says, looking past the man with the spiky mane.

“Of course, Cynthia,” Palmer replies, walking over to the two. “I wouldn't hesitate to challenge you to another battle. Even here and now if it would take your fancy?”

Both Brandon and Lucy sigh at Palmer's challenge as The Tower Tycoon integrates himself into the conversation with Cynthia and the Unova Champion, Alder. Brandon then heads over to join in with Scott, the joint Kanto and Johto Champion Lance, and the head of the Pokémon League, Mr Goodshow. Anabel moves over to an empty chair and sits herself down, giving her Espeon a pat with her left hand as she jumps up into the Salon Maiden's lap, while using the right to keep the three metallic balls orbiting round through the air beside her. Finally, Lucy takes up a space nearby by an empty space on the wall, keeping an eye on the room and on Anabel.

After a few moments, the door by the tinted window opens up. First through is a giant hulk of a man, large in bulk and height. His arms are as thick as tree trunks, with winding braided and rune covered tattoos weaving along each arm, while wearing a sage green jumper with rolled up sleeves, thick brown gloves on each hand, and beige overalls sitting across his chest and legs. Sitting around his forehead is a thin golden band, while his golden hair with strands of grey is slicked back, along with his neatly brushed golden beard.

The second through is a young looking woman with tanned skin and shiny silver hair tied up into a ponytail. Wearing a thin white crop top and short jeans with an aqua blue sarong wrapped around her waist, she bounces in with a smile, looking around the room. Her eyes seem to light up even more as she spots Anabel, though, when she notices the lack of recognition from the Salon Maiden, it returns to the still energetic beam from before, as she leaps over the arm rest of the couch underneath the TV and lands at the same time as the giant before her.

The third and final through, as he shuts the door behind him, is a man with dark brown skin and braided chocolate brown hair, wearing a loose sky blue t-shirt over a skintight black undershirt and baggy black tracksuit pants. He takes his place between the two that came in before him, though he remains standing up.

“I'm sorry for the wait,” the man says with a short bow. “On behalf of the Seishi Pokémon League, I welcome all of you to our home. If I may begin the introductions, the man to my right is Sheamus, one of our Elite Four members.”

He gestures to the large burly man, who gives a nod and a grin as he raises his hand in greeting.

“To my left is Hikaru, another of our Elite Four members,” he replies, gesturing to the young woman on his other side who gives everyone a big wave and flashes a large shiny smile.”

“Hiya! How're you doing?!” she beams.

“And I'm Raphael, Leader of the Elite Four and Former Champion of Seishi,” he finishes with a bow. “Should we proceed with the other introductions, or are the rest of you acquainted?”

“Oh please, allow me,” Scott says as he stands up. “If you fine folk are not aware, I'm Scott, the head of the Battle Frontier. The people I came in with are the Tower Tycoon Palmer, from our Sinnoh branch, along with the Pike Queen Lucy, Salon Maiden Anabel, and Pyramid King Brandon, all from our Kanto branch.”

Each of the Frontier Brains gives a short nod and a wave as they are mentioned, before Scott continues on with his speech.

“I would have brought someone from our Johto branch as well if I could, but I'm afraid they were all busy with challengers,” Scott chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “As for the rest, beside me is the head of the Pokémon League, Mr Charles Goodshow, and the joint Kanto and Johto Champion, Lance.”

Both give a polite nod, letting Scott get on with the introductions.

“Over by our battling veteran Palmer is the Sinnoh Champion Cynthia, and the Champion of Unova, Alder.”

Alder gives a chuckle and a wave, while Cynthia gives a kind nod before returning to her ice cream.

“Continuing on, leaning against the wall over there is the recently recrowned Hoenn Champion and Top Coordinator, Wallace.”

“Guilty as charged,” Wallace says with a smile.

“And last, but certainly not least, the duo sitting over there is the Kalos Champion and superstar of the big screen, Diantha, along with, if what I've heard is correct, her manager, Kathi Lee.”

“Yes, that's correct,” Kathi Lee confirms as she snaps her book shut, while Diantha gives a simple smile to the rest of the room.

“Now, unless anyone has anyone else to say, I'll pass over to Mr Goodshow to explain why we're here.”

“If I may,” Alder interjects as Scott finishes, leaving the many powerful trainers in the room to look over at him, “I believe we were all summoned here by the word of Seishi's Champion. So, with all due respect, why is he not here to meet with us?”

“Ah, yes, well, that was initially the plan,” Raphael begins.

“However, the plans seem to have changed a bit thanks to tonight's battle,” Sheamus continues with a low, gruff voice.

“Is tonight's battle a title match?” Wallace questions, pushing himself off the wall and standing upright.

“No, it's a battle with our absent Elite Four member,” Hikaru explains. “It just so happens that he's giving her a hand with some last minute battle preparations.”

“Our hope was that he would still be ready to discuss terms with the rest of you, but it seems like they're taking longer than expected,” Raphael continues as he takes a seat between his fellow Elite Four members. “And besides, I tend to be the one who is more involved with any administrative work anyway, so it's not too big of a loss.”

“Alright then,” Wallace concedes. “Mr Goodshow?”

“Thank you,” Mr Goodshow says as he stands up, though is cut off as Lance holds up a hand to cut him off.

“I'm sorry, Mr Goodshow, but if you'll excuse me, I'm wondering why Scott decided to bring four Frontier Brains along with him for our talks,” the Dragon Master cuts in, looking towards the slightly rotund individual.

“Well, as I said I was hoping to have a member from each branch here, to make sure whatever concerns they had, if there were any, were taken care of,” Scott explains. “As it were, there was another reason for us to come.”

“Yes, I'd heard from our Champion that you were hoping to open a Battle Frontier branch here in Seishi,” Raphael responds. “I take it you were hoping to find strong candidates through this upcoming tournament to take the place of the Frontier Brains here?”

“Indeed I was,” Scott chuckles in good nature.

“Perhaps we should explain that the people here aren't that fond of outsiders,” Sheamus points out. “Particularly if they feel they cannot trust them.”

“I have been made aware of that, both by Brandon and others who have travelled here,” Scott responds. “That's why I was hoping to build it out of people local to the region, to keep the trust of the people. At the absolute most, your Champion and I were discussing the possibility of transferring one of our Kanto branch over to help set it up, and potentially be the final challenge.”

“You were?” Lucy pipes up, the three present Kanto Frontier Brains looking over to Scott in surprise.

“Indeed,” Scott confirms. “In truth, we were going to pick between one of the three I brought here, if it was needed. Though, admittedly, there were some complications with each of you.”

“Such as?”

“Well, Brandon still wants to continue on with his research into the many ruins around the world. It would be a bit difficult to set up a new branch around a man who may not be there for a decent amount of the time.”

“That is true,” Brandon concedes.

“As for you, I'm well aware that you aren't too comfortable around a lot of new people, despite how you like to hold yourself,” Scott continues, getting a slight blush from Lucy as she turns her head away. “I'm sure you'd come if I'd ask you to, but you'd probably prefer to stay at the Battle Pike right now. Lucy doesn't give much of a response other than a short hum, keeping her head turned away to try and hide the slight blush dusting her cheeks.

“Now, Spencer was also an option, but he is starting to get on in his age, though you better not tell him I said that,” Scott finishes with a laugh. “I believe it'd be a bit rough asking him to move over if he's not wanting to, or able to, keep competing in a few years time.”

“So, that leaves Anabel,” Scott concludes, with the many eyes in the room turning towards the Salon Maiden. “Had it been quite a few years earlier, I don't think there would be any question about her capability in fronting a branch here. But, as some of you know, there are some … hurdles that still need dealing with.”

Despite the number of eyes on her, Anabel shows no sign that she heard anything that Scott had said about her, instead focusing purely giving her Espeon some scratches underneath her chin, getting a delighted purr from the Sun Pokémon while still absentmindedly spinning the three metallic balls above her gloved right hand.

“But, perhaps that conversation should be continued with the presence of the Champion,” Scott concedes, turning back to the others. “So, are there any other questions?”

No one else raises any objections, leaving Scott to turn towards Mr Goodshow.

“Well, then, Charles, if you would?”

“Thank you, Scott,” the elderly man says as he stands upright. “And thank you to the rest of you for turning up.”

“Now, as you all know, we are here to discuss terms for the Pokémon Masters League coming up in a few months. Seishi is intended to be the hosts, and for the most part the preparations will be organised between us in the Pokémon League and Seishi region authorities, along with the Wallace Cup that's to be held.”

“Yeah!” cheers Hikaru as she leaps up from her seat. “I'll be working alongside Wallace to take care of that, if that's okay with you?”

“Of course,” Wallace says with a simple nod of his head. “I'd be glad to work alongside a fellow Top Coordinator to bring this prestigious contest to life here.”

“Awesome! We're going to make this the greatest contest ever!”

“As for the rest of you, you are brought in to make sure that the conditions work with the expectations of your own League members,” Charles continues on. “Each region will take care of nominating the participants coming from their own regions. If there's someone else from another region that you believe should be a part of the competition, then that's up to you to negotiate with their corresponding region.”

“I'm guessing that, because no one from Galar is here, that you weren't able to come to terms with them?” Cynthia pipes up.

“No, I'm afraid not,” Mr Goodshow answers says with the shake of his head. “Unfortunately, Chairman Rose refused to budge on his insistence of having portable Power Spots built here in Seishi to accommodate the Dynamax phenomenon that's prevalent in Galar. As it was, the professors and scientists here opposed the decision, as they can't say what kind of effect the energy dispersed from such an energy source could have on the surrounding area.”

“Especially as they aren't too sure what the continuous effects are of the energy the land gives off anyway,” Raphael adds on. “One of our Gym Leaders is leading the research into the full effects, along with our own Pokémon Professor.”

“Wouldn't that make Seishi a dangerous place to hold the World Championships, then?” Wallace inquires.

“As far as we can tell, it doesn't seem to have any major affects on either people or Pokémon, beyond expanding the move limit a Pokémon has from four to eight,” Raphael explains.

“It also appears to make the local flora blossom at a quicker rate, and at greater levels than other regions,” Sheamus adds on. “Of course, that is purely speculation based off of my own experiences in the field.”

As the talks continue on, Anabel starts to tune the others out as she keeps her focus on her Espeon, continuing to scratch her under her chin while also floating the balls above her hand. She keeps this up for a few moments, the noise of the others' conversations fading away into the void of her mind, before a small spike seems to emanate from her mind.

'… Anabel …' a soft male voice reverberates through her head, causing her to grimace as she grabs at her temple with the hand that was rubbing Espeon. The floating balls falter in mid-air, the wider arcs tightening up as they begin to spiral back into a vertical line.

“Anabel?” a different soft voice comes from outside, as Lucy suddenly places a hand on Anabel's shoulder, also getting the attention of Brandon and Scott. “What's wrong?”

'… I'm sorry ...'

“I ...” Anabel gasps, before whimpering as her head is racked with a sudden severe pain, coursing through her brain like an intense thunderstorm constantly striking her over and over with lightning bolts.

The metallic balls floating above her hand seem to shake in the single line that they currently hold, before, with another sharp gasp of pain, they shoot off quickly in different directions, a few of the others in the room quickly diving to the ground as they hurtle away.

“Espee? Pee! Espee!” Espeon cries out, her front paws pressing up against her trainer's waist. Her cries fail to get through, though, with Anabel crouching over and placing her other hand on her temple, as the sharp jolting pain continues to surge through her brain.

“Anabel?!” Lucy calls out as she crouches next to her fellow Frontier Brain, gripping onto her shoulders with both her hands. Ripples of energy start to emanate out from the Salon Maiden, as the pulses shake and vibrate the air and ground. “Talk to me.”

“I-I … I … Ah!” Anabel manages to sputter out before another wave of pain crashes through her. In a flash of light from Anabel's belt, a Pokéball pops open with a shiny sparkle, revealing a Gardevoir of an abnormal colour; with aqua blue skin where there would normally be green and orange where there would be red.

“Gardevoir?!” Gardevoir cries out as it appears, before quickly taking its place beside Lucy, placing her hands upon her trainer's temple, the lithe limbs delicately sliding underneath the gloved hands of Anabel. “Gar? Gardevoir?!”

“It just started happening again,” Lucy explains desperately, while all she receives from the Salon Maiden is a shaky nod. Gardevoir then closes her eyes and starts to hum, as a circle of light pink energy radiates out from her.

“It's using Heal Pulse,” Diantha observes as the glowing energy created by the Embrace Pokémon starts to wash over Anabel. Her pained whimpers and gasps quickly fade away as the healing power takes hold, the pulsating pink light slowly fading away. With the last of the energy dispersing, Anabel straightens back up, a small smile on her face as a hand reaches up to cradle one of Gardevoir's.

“Thank you, my friend,” she whispers.

“Voir,” Gardevoir nods, standing upright before gliding behind her trainer. Anabel reaches down to scratch Espeon's ears as the shiny Gardevoir rests her head atop the Salon Maiden's and wraps her arms around her from behind, gaining a slight squeeze from Anabel.

“I'm alright now,” she says, albeit a little shakily, moreso to her Pokémon than to anyone else. However, as she finishes giving both Pokémon a gentle squeeze and scratch, her eyes drop down to meet Lucy's, who's still looking up at her with a worried expression.

“Are you sure?” she presses, ignoring the other eyes on them as she gets a nod from the trainer, along with an affirmative confirmation from both Espeon and Gardevoir. “Do you know what triggered it this time?”

Anabel takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes, before quickly opening them and sharply gazing over towards the tinted window.

“There's someone behind there,” she declares, causing the others to look over to the same place.

With a sigh, Raphael stands up and says, “If you'll excuse me for a moment,” before heading walking across and through the door by the window.

“Is there a problem?” Cynthia puts to the two remaining Elites as the door clicks shut behind Raphael.

“No, not at all,” Sheamus replies with a boisterous laugh. “If I had to guess, I'd say our Champion has finally arrived.”

“I guess Jeanne's preparations are done,” Hikaru muses, shuffling her body round so she is sitting with her back against the seat of the couch and her legs resting on the back.

“Was that the hurdle you were talking about?” Lance quietly asks Scott, leaning over as they keep an eye on Anabel.

“That's part of it,” Scott admits, shifting his legs back flat against the chair to get out of the way of Espeon, having jumped down off of Anabel's lap to collect up the balls that had been sent flying around the room.

“Part of it?” Lance repeats, hoping to press for more, only to be left without an answer as the door opens up again. All eyes in the room head over to the entrance as Raphael walks back in, followed closely behind by another individual.

The person accompanying Raphael has wild shoulder length hair that spikes out at random angles, with a large bang that covers the left side of his face. The right side is partially covered by a wide-brimmed hat tilted down over it, obscuring the eye while still showing off some of the scars, gashes and burns spread across his right cheek and jawline. Draped over his shoulders is a midnight black cloak with a small golden outline, closed up over his chest and stretching down to his knees. Peaking out underneath the cloak is a worn and slightly ripped pair of navy blue pants.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to present our Champion, Aaron,” Raphael introduces, who wordlessly greets the room with a tip of his hat with his right hand, revealing a seemingly sleeveless arm and a fingerless glove with a small round cerulean gem embedded into the back. Anabel almost swears she sees his head shift slightly in her direction while he had his hat tipped, only for it to return upright in the blink of an eye.

“Jeanne's all ready to go?” Sheamus asks, getting another silent response as the Champion nods.

“Well, it is nearly time for the battle to start,” Raphael muses aloud while glancing over to the TV screen, the camera image having switched to the battlefield as the noise of the crowd outside starts to pick up. “Seeing as we've pretty much taken care of everything we need to, why don't you all stick around and watch the battle? There's a private viewing box through that door that we Elites tend to use for challenges here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Alder accepts, along with the Frontier Brains and Champions, save for Diantha who glances towards her manager. “I guess it can fit in our schedule,” Kathi Lee says after a short beat, having looked through her journal. “But we're leaving if it starts to take too long. You need to get back for a shoot in Lumiose City tomorrow.”

Diantha lets out a little giggle as she gets up, along with the others, and they start to make their way over to the door, with Sheamus opening the door for them. Both Alder and Palmer dart over to the tables to grab some food, both getting a bowl of different flavoured chips, while Lucy grabs a cup of tea for both her and Anabel. Diantha also skips back over to the table and cuts herself a big slice of the chocolate cake sitting there, much to the dismay of her manager, before being joined by Cynthia.

“You guys go ahead,” Scott says, mainly addressing his Frontier Brains as he and Mr Goodshow move over towards Aaron and Raphael instead.

“We've still got a few more details to go over with our host here,” Mr Goodshow explains.

The others all nod as they walk on through. Anabel lags behind at the door, as does Lucy who is keeping an eye on the Salon Maiden, as she pulls out a Pokéball, enlarges it, and starts to aim it at her Gardevoir, only to stop as Gardevoir shakes its head.

“You want to stay out?”

“Voir,” Gardevoir answers with a nod.

“Okay,” she concedes, before minimising the ball and placing it back on her waist.

“Espee,” Espeon pipes up as she comes over, eyes gleaming in a pale blue light as the three metallic balls that were scattered earlier float back up to Anabel, each outlined in the same blue light.

“Thank you, Espeon,” Anabel says with a small smile, taking the balls and pocketing them inside her blazer. As she does, she glances back over her shoulder, spotting Aaron expressionlessly looking in her direction along with Raphael and Scott, the latter giving her a smile and a nod, while Mr Goodshow seems to be caught up on the footage on screen.

'You were the one in my head, right?' Anabel contemplates as her eyes seem to catch with Aaron's, barely seeing his left through the thicket of hair obstructing it. There almost seems to be a slight shimmer flickering in that eye, as their gazes lock onto each other's.

'Why? What do you-?'

“Anabel?” Lucy speaks up, breaking the Salon Maiden out of her thoughts.

With a shake of her head, she lets out a breath before walking out into the spectator box, accepting Lucy's offered cup of tea with a short thanks as they pass through together, with Hikaru the last to leave, sliding the door shut behind her. With that door shut, the door by the window opens back up, with a Pikachu swinging in by the handle. Dropping down, the yellow Mouse Pokémon darts across the floor before climbing up Aaron's back, sitting up on his right shoulder.

“Pika pi,” Pikachu sadly says, his ears drooping down as he glances to the Champion. “Pikachu?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Aaron softly answers, giving his partner a nod and a short pat between his ears.

“Pika …”

“Couldn't help yourself, eh Champ?” Raphael sighs.

“She hasn't …?” Aaron inquires, directing it towards Scott.

“No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “Anabel still hasn't regained her memories.”

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

AN: Well, I wonder who that could be …

So, yeah, part of why I was wanting to write this story was to play around a bit with the concept of Anabel having amnesia, which was brought in in S&M. With some differences, of course.

Now, the next chapter was going to be people - particularly Ash's former companions - finding out if they've been invited to compete in the tournament. That'll still be a chapter, but maybe not the next depending on what you guys want. I'm giving you all the option as to if you want the planned next chapter to be next, or if you'd rather read the battle between the challenger and the other Elite Four member, Jeanne. The challenger was initially going to be between 3 people, but now down to 2. Alder was one of my options, but I decided against it. Otherwise, there would have been a different champion representing Unova. 1 guess as to who that is. So, by all means let me know if you've got a preference.

Also, please feel free to let me know what you think so far. Thoughts, feedback, analysis, predictions, suggestions, all are welcome. I'm happy for people to suggest OCs for contenders in the tournament - I can't promise that they'll last - or even if there's a particular ship you want to see. I make no promises it'll be there, and I'm not budging on 2 ships that will be happening in the story. Beyond that, anything could happen.

I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can. Obviously that'll depend on what's coming next, so, until then, adios!

#pokemon #fanfiction #fanfic #ash ketchum #pokemon fanfic #my writing #forgotten but not gone #anabel #lila #satoshi #pikachu #battle frontier #abilityshipping

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