the problem with having semi-fixed my sleep schedule is that now there’s all this day i hear i’m supposed to do things with???

Dark Prince - Switcheroo AU Oneshot

A/N: Hello hello this is your author Minty here! Just wanted to give a quick thanks to @aimasup for letting me use her Switcheroo AU on the Creativtwins for this cheeky lil oneshot. The AU is about if the split occurs, but Roman and Remus were assigned opposite traits to represent - Roman being a dark side and Remus being a light side. This was really fun to write and took a lotta work, so I hope ya’ll enjoy! - Minty

Summary: Roman never wanted to be the villain. 

TW: Abandonment, Child abuse (Kinda, tagging just in case), sexual innuendos, Injury, exclusion, slight insanity, slight repressed homosexuality, cursing, putting life in someone else’s hands (As always, let me know if I need to tag anything else!) 

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Roman’s first memory was of pain, of needles all over his body, and then… a kick. He remembered making a small whimper as he curled into himself, weak and tired, the kick hurting more than it should’ve.

“Get away, you disgusting pervert! Get away from Creativity!” Someone yelled sharply, and Roman slowly opened his eyes, wondering what he could’ve done and where he even was. He was in a room, a room filled with stuffed animals and children’s drawings and… a man. He was wearing a cardigan with a grey sweatshirt wrapped around his shoulders, kneeling to help up someone else… someone who looked like him. “Creativity, are you alright? Oh, you poor thing, don’t worry, we finally got rid of it…”

Creativity? Wasn’t… wasn’t he…?

The kid shook a bit, weak like him, looking to the man in wonder and curiosity. “Creativity.” He said, repeating the word as if to understand it. “I’m… I’m Creativity.” Creativity tried to stand, nearly falling before the man caught him. 

“Careful.” The man warned. “You might be a bit weak, that was a little intense. Here, let me help.” The man slowly picked up Creativity in his arms, then his gaze fell upon Roman, turning into one of disgust, making Roman’s heart begin to break. What… what did he do?

Creativity followed the man’s gaze. “Hey, who’s that?”

“Someone bad we don’t need anymore. Come on, Creativity.” They left, and Roman tried to move to get up, to follow them and maybe try to understand, he didn’t understand...

The next thing he remembered was gloved arms wrapped around him, lifting him up, and he looked up to see a man with half his face covered in green-tinted scales and a yellow snake eye that made his body tense. The man looked down at him warmly, sensing his fear. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” Roman looked at the man, and his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why?”

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Roman liked Janus a lot, he was one of the few people who’ve ever really shown him kindness, plus he smelled like vanilla. Despite his off-putting scales when they first met, Roman had really warmed up to the other side. Janus was funny and a really good cook - leading to Roman’s obsession with Peanut Butter, even to the point the poor parental side had to hide it constantly or else all three jars would be gone by the end of the day. 

As their bond grew, so did Roman - he learned all about the others, ‘the light sides’ as Janus called them, and even the foretold Thomas. “Do you think I could meet him one day? Meet Thomas?”

“Uh…” Janus looked uncomfortable by the question, struggling to find the words to speak. 

“I’m sure if I explain everything to him, maybe he can clear things up with Patton, maybe we could all get along and be happy again!” Roman smiled, jumping a bit on the ripped up couch. 

“Roman…” Janus said, taking a breath. “It’s not that simple… Thomas… he…he doesn’t like us.”

“Why? You’re really nice, and… and-”

“He doesn’t like us because he doesn’t like what we represent.” Janus said, comfortingly rubbing circles on the back of the child’s hand. “Until he likes us, it’s no use trying to talk to him. That’s why I… well, why I’ve kept us hidden from him, why he doesn’t know about you… if he did, he could summon you and mock you and hurt you-”

“Will he ever like us again, Dee?” Roman looked up to Janus with sad eyes, the same sad eyes the deceitful side saw the day of the split. The eyes that made him help the kid so long ago, to endure the risk of insult and injury, to protect him. Janus met those eyes, and for once he didn’t have the heart to say the harsh truth. 

“Maybe, Ro.” Janus gave the kid a comforting smile. “Maybe someday.”

That’s how it was for a while - Janus and Roman against a world who hated them. Their own little family of acceptance and love. Janus would play with Roman, sing songs and teach him the right way to hiss. Roman would comfort Janus when he’d return after being summoned by the Light Sides, and bring him into the Imagination for adventures, and work on training with his new abilities as they presented themselves to him. 

It was one of those days in the Darkscape, Roman now fourteen, when the two were watching a movie that the most unusual thing happened. With a slow rise up in the living room stood Logan - tie messed up, bags under his eyes, holding a tiny seven year old in his arms. The child in question was wearing a large black hoodie, hood up and head buried into Logan’s chest, crying. 

The two on the couch stood up quickly. Looking over toward Logan, who was looking around the place blankly. Roman was about to give him a piece of his mind for entering unannounced, bothering them, but Dee held up his arm to block him. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.” He said harshly under his breath. He looked over toward the intruder. “What brings you to our neck of the woods, Logic? I thought your kind made it crystal clear we weren’t welcome.”

“I am… sorry to enter unannounced, Deceit. I do believe this is one of yours.” Logan said, adjusting his glasses with one hand and walking over, the other arm supporting the child. Moving his arm, the child looked over to the two others, his lip trembling and tears in his eyes. Janus’s heart broke at the sight as he moved closer. “What’s his-?”

“Anxiety. His name is Anxiety.” Logan said. He slowly began to hand the child over as he calmed to sniffles, only for the action to make the child in question burst out crying once more. Janus slowly moved and held Anxiety as he made grabby hands to Logan. 

“Pwease, I’ll be good! I’ll be good, don’t leave me!” Anxiety cried, and Janus held him close, shushing him and trying to soothe his tears, looking up to stare daggers at Logan. 

“Is that all? Or is there another helpless child that ‘moral compass’ of yours wants to abandon?” Janus spat.

“Deceit, you know as well as I do that this is the best thing in the end for Thomas.” Logan said, rubbing his forehead. “It’s dangerous for Thomas for all of you to be out, he’s not ready-”

“A seven-year-old child is dangerous for Thomas?!” Janus said, looking angrier and angrier by the second. “For Logic, you don’t seem to be making any sense.”

“Janus-”

Janus jabbed his finger at Logan’s chest. “Now get out of my face and my home before things get so messy even your faulty ‘logic’ can’t fix them.” Janus’s voice was full of pure rage, and Logan’s blank face broke into more of… pity.

“I am sorry, Janus.” Logan simply said before sinking out, leaving the three of them alone. 

Janus’s anger dissapated quickly as he rubbed Anxiety’s back, heading to sit back on the couch. “Shh, shh, it’s okay…” Roman just stared at Janus in shock of the altercation between the two, he’d never ever seen Janus talk like that to anyone before. Janus looked up at him. “What?”

“I-”

“Please… p-please don’t h-hurt me-!” Anxiety shook, looking up at Janus, then to Roman. Janus gave them a sad look, realizing what Patton probably told this poor kid-

Roman slowly reached out to him, smiling. Virgil’s reddened eyes met his as he looked up, moving toward Roman as Roman cupped his cheek softly. “I promise, no one’s gonna hurt you, okay?”

For a moment, silence fills the room as the child hesitates before his shaking small voice answered Roman. “P-promise?” Anxiety said, holding up his pinkie. Roman pinkie promised him, smiling warmly. 

“I promise.”

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Roman yawned as he slowly made his way down to the kitchen, smiling as Virgil walked past him, eyes glued to his phone. “You know, you’d think with those dark circles under your eyes, you’d be the one yawning.”

Virgil gives a slight smirk at the playful remark. “Fuck off, playboy.”

“Well… I mean you’re not wrong there-” Roman shrugs, mischievously grinning. “I do like playing with a boy or two!” Roman finished with a wink at his brother.

Virgil nearly snorted at the retort, hiding his smile underneath his phone. “God, you’re disgusting-!”

“Right back at you, My Chemical Ro-Mess.”

The two sat down at the dusty dining room table as Janus walked out wearing a scaled apron with the words ‘Snake me’ written in flowy black cursive, carrying two plates of eggs and toast. He set them down in front of the two sides, turning to head back into the kitchen, ruffling Virgil’s hair as he went. “Cream and sugar for both of you, right?”

“Yep.” Virgil said, popping the ‘p’ slightly at the end. 

“Yeppers, Jan-Jan!” Roman answered before taking out his own phone to scroll through some… “tasteful'' photos. He liked thinking of their strong hands running down his chest or through his hair…

Janus came back out with the coffee as he sat down to eat, dealing out the drinks. The little family ate in a comfortable silence as they always did every morning, Janus only breaking it for a second to check their plans for the day as he spread a bit of Crofters on a piece of toast. Virgil answered first, putting down his phone for a minute. “Besides work and stuff, I was thinking about maybe putting up some new posters in my room, I’ve been getting into Evenasence.”

“Do you need any help, shadowling? I know the ladder’s not completely stable…” Janus asked.

“Shortie-” Remus smirked as Virgil just rolled his eyes at his older brother. 

“Nah, I’ll be fine, I usually give it extra support even when it wasn’t so loose.”

“If you’re sure… Roman?”

“Just gonna hang in the Imagination.”

“You hang out there a lot lately…” Janus remarked smoothly between bites. “Something you’re not telling me?”

“No, no! Dee, I’d never-” Roman sputtered, but Janus just raised his eyebrow.

“Roman, I’m the Lord of Lies. You can’t seriously think I won’t be able to spot one from a mile away?”

“It’s nothing serious, really. Just… uh… I made a friend?” Roman admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Friend…?” Janus asked.

“Uh… yeah! Katy, one of the townspeople in the kingdom, we hang out all the time-” Roman said, beginning to get up quickly. “Anyway, she’s probably waiting for me, I should go.” Roman chugged the rest of his coffee and quickly walked off. “See you guys at six!”

Janus’s eyes narrowed. That boy is hiding something, something big. Virgil just looked at the hallway entrance, where he disappeared to. “That was… weird.”

“You said it.”

“Think he’s gonna do something stupid?” Virgil asked, concerned. 

“I dunno.” Janus answered. “Just… check on him when you get the chance for me, okay? I know he likes handling things by himself, but the Imagination’s not completely his domain. If the light sides find him… I’m afraid things could turn ugly.”

“You got it, Chief.” Virgil said, worries already building up in his mind about what his brother could possibly be doing.

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Roman sighed. That was a close one. 

It’s not like he didn’t want to tell them, it’s just… he didn’t think they’d really understand. Roman let out a small sigh before grabbing his bag and sword, and heading through the door to the Imagination. He began the walk as he did every day along the path, smiling at the winged rabbits and the frogs who croaked glitter - some of his best ideas, he’d say. 

As the animals became quieter and quieter, he couldn’t help but feel guilt at the edges of his stomach for making Janus worry. He knew that lying as necessary, to make sure they’d never get found out, but if it doesn’t make his stomach churn sometimes. Maybe, when he got back, if he could convince him, he’d finally be able to tell Janius. Maybe it was silly to hide it from him, maybe he’d really, truly understand.

“Hey, Roman! Up here!” His twin looked down at him from the treehouse, smiling and waving in his green and white uniform. He waved, returning the smile as he sat on the ladder, pulling the rope as he ascended, entering their little hideout. As soon as he put the basket down, he was bulldozed to the ground with a giant hug, making him laugh. 

“Remus, come on! It hasn’t been that long-”

“Two weeks is like… forever in brother years.” Remus responded, tightening the hug for a moment as Roman returned it. 

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too, Rem.”

The two sat down on the picnic blanket, relaxing as the cool wind blew through their small shelter, snacking on Crofters and bread, as well as a few sodas and candies Remus smuggled from the Mindscape kitchen. Roman played a bit with the crisp autumn leaves that blew inside, practicing lifting them up and folding them into shapes.

“Ro, do you ever wonder what it was like… before?” Remus asked, drawing Roman’s attention away from the star he was folding. 

“Before? Before what?”

“Before. When we were together.” Remus said, chewing on the jam-stained bread thoughtfully. 

“Oh.” Roman said. “I’ve never really thought about it, I guess.”

“We had the whole Imagination just to us, no hiding or running away. No one telling us who we were.” Remus said. “I just think about it sometimes. Daydream, really - what they had looked like, what they did, how everyone used to be. I’d ask more about it, but Patton…” Remus' face fell. 

“Hey, we don’t need him.” Roman said, placing a comforting hand on Remus’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, Ro Bro.”

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Roman said. “I just barely got away to get here, Janus was onto me. I was… thinking, since he’s been so open and honest about everything to me-”

“No.” Remus said sternly. “Roman, we can’t. No one can know about this.” His face was a mixture of anger and fear. “Do you know what they’d do?! Roman, they don’t want us to be together, they don’t want us to get along or be happy!”

“But… but Janus isn’t- he’s not one of them!” Roman insisted, getting angry. “If I recall, your little Patton threw us out! Janus… Janus hasn’t done anything except be there for me and Virgil, he wants to protect us!”

“Roman, no.” Remus said. “That’s what he told you.” Roman’s fists clenched in anger, looking toward the ground. Janus wouldn’t lie to him, he wouldn’t-! “Don’t you ever think it’s weird how Dark and Light sides were already made up? How Janus and Patton were both ready to just... take us away?” Janus wouldn’t… he wouldn’t, he promised! “This whole thing was a setup to change who we once were, don’t you see? Patton, Janus, and Logan… they all made us split!”

“That’s not true!” Roman yelled. “Janus told me he’d never lie, he told me it was the truth!”

Remus’s face turned dark. “Roman, he’s the Lord of Lies, don’t you get it?! He was a liar from the very beginning-!”

Then, suddenly, Remus was on the ground, holding his jaw and looking up at his twin with shock. Roman looked down, his hand pumping with adrenaline from the punch. It was only a moment, but Roman could see the pain on his brother’s face, and his anger quickly disappeared. “Remus, I’m-”

“Remus…?” Roman’s heart dropped at the voice. Patton. Suddenly, a whip wrapped around Roman’s arms as he was pulled to the floor, volt shocking through his body, making his breaths slow and body cower. “Remus, are you okay?!” He could only hear footsteps behind him as he struggled to sit up, getting zapped every time he shifted. So his intended ‘he’s fine’ could barely be heard.

“He’s...ugh-!”

“I’m fine, Dad.” Remus said, looking down at Roman, worried. 

“Oh Remus I was so scared this morning when I woke up and you weren’t there and things had been stolen, I just knew you were kidnapped by Janus, but… it seems his little protege had other plans.” Patton rambled, looking over Remus for any bruises or injuries like a worried mother. “It’s okay now, you’re finally safe.”

“Dad, please let him go, I wasn’t kidnapped.” Remus said, pulling away from the cardigan wearing side. “He’s done nothing wrong, you’re hurting him!” Remus rushed past Patton to Roman, seeing drops of blood slowly coat his skin as his breathing began to slowly decline. He grabbed his pocket knife and cut the whip, releasing him as he simply slumped to the ground. “Roman, oh my god-!”

Patton simply watched with odd curiosity. Remus helped him sit up a bit, having his weak body lean on him. Roman let out a small coughing fit. “Remus, n-no…” They’d held the secret for so long, they coudln’t give in now!

Remus turned to Patton. “Dad come on, we have to help him!”

Patton slowly walked over, cupping Remus’s cheek. “Oh Remus, what did he do to you?”

“What…?”

“I knew they were bad, but I never throught they’d stoop so low.” Patton said. “Brainwashing a child…” Patton held Remus’s hands as they stood up, Roman on the floor. “Remus, they’re not good - Deception, Lust, Anxiety - they twist and manipulate your mind, that’s why I sent them away, to protect us.” Patton softly tucked Remus’s hair behind his ear. “I failed. I’m... sorry.”

Remus just looked toward the floor, taking a quick glance at his brother, his mind full of thoughts. “Dad, I…”

“I… I don’t know what they told you, and I don’t know if you’d believe me, but I promise you they’re nothing but a family of lying rats.”

“But… but Roman-”

“He doesn’t care about you, and it’s hard to say if he ever has.” Patton said. “Remus, there’s a reason the split occurred. You were being insane, lying and cheating, it wasn’t you. I had to save the real you from him.”

“Save me-?!”

Remus looked over at Roman and the two just looked at each other for a brief moment. “R-remus, I swear... I’d never-”

“Roman, what’s going on here?!” Virgil barked, his weapon Roman had created for him in his hands - a shimmering back bow and silver feathered arrows. Roman struggled to get up against the wall as Virgil entered, notching his arrow quickly and aiming at Patton. “What did you do-?!” He growled. “Where is he?!”

Patton slowly raised his arms. “Don’t shoot, though I’d think your kind wouldn’t hesitate to let a few fly against me, hm?”

“If you so much as hurt a hair on his head, I swear-”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” Patton slowly approached, the arrow pushed slightly against his forehead. “I wouldn’t be surprised, Anxiety. Or should I say Paranoia?”

“Stop avoiding the question and-!”

“V-virgil…” Roman managed weakly, falling to the floor as he took a step, making Virgil turn and rush toward him, taking off his dark sweatshirt and trying to help the bleeding from the electritcity, trying to find some way to help him. 

“S-shit-!” Virgil cursed under his breath. “Roman, hold on-”

Patton just looked over at them with anger. “They’ll never change, Remus. It’s in their blood - torturing the innocent with their thoughts and lies and fear. Twsiting reality for their own benefit. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, a part of me thought if I didn’t... I’d protect you.” Patton sighed, turning to Remus with a sad smile. “Let's just go home.” Patton walked past the two dark sides on the floor, and yet Remus stayed frozen. “Come on, Remus. Let’s go.”

Remus slowly approached Virgil and Roman as they slowly got up, Roman leaning on Virgil slightly for support, both just looking at Remus. “Remus, I-”

“Save it.” He growled. “So, this is really it, huh? I was dreaming of such a happy past to be found, for both of us.”

“Remus…”

“But it seems I was nothing but an idiot to believe you, to believe that you were innocent.” His stared turned cold. “All this time, everything we’ve done, everything we’ve been through-”

“Remus, you can’t honestly believe-?!”

“You’re the reason we split, aren’t you?!” Remus snapped. “You’re the reason there’s light and dark sides-” Remus’s voice slowly began to rise with his growing anger, tears going down his face. “You’re the one who brainwashed me into thinking you actually cared!”

“Remus, please…” Roman begged, tears forming in his own eyes as he could feel his heart break into a million pieces at his brother’s words. It can’t be true, it just can’t, he couldn’t have-! Roman grabbed Remus’s wrist as he turned away, prompting Remus to push him to the ground. 

“Get away from me, Lust.” Remus practically spat, disgusted.

With that, they left, leaving Roman alone on the floor, crying. Remus actually left him. He believed Patton over him, he hated him, he abandoned him, he didn’t even... love him anymore. Virgil sat next to him, pulling him close and comforting his big brother as he cried, remembering his own day of abandonment and letting a few tears shed down his cheeks. “You don’t need him anymore, Roman. We don’t need any of those assholes, okay? They’re all the same - stuck up pricks.” Virgil spat with venom. “Fuck him.”

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Soon enough, Thomas had grown into an adult, and Janus’s concealment of them was getting weaker by the day. Roman and Virgil were scared - they just wanted to do their jobs in peace, and not have to face the constant fear and harassment that loomed over them all their lives. Janus tried to comfort them, but even he was nervous.

One day, they couldn’t find Virgil. Janus and Roman tore through the entire Darkscape and Imagination looking for him, scared of what they might have done to him. Janus had ended his frantic search on the floor, bawling and shaking like a leaf as Roman tried his best to comfort him. “Don’t worry, Jan. Virgil will come back, okay? Virgil’s gonna be alright.”

Janus could do nothing but weep, sniffling. His mouth opened to say something and yet nothing ever came out. His heart felt hollow, and his mind was filled with worry for his family, his son.

Virgil eventually came back later that night, a little stand-offish at first than normal. When he saw Roman and Janus, however, he rushed to their side and apologized, hugging all of them tightly. Finally, Janus found the words as he hugged Virgil tightly, afraid if he let him go he’d lose him again. “Don’t ever leave me again, okay?!”

“O-okay…” Virgil said as he hugged him back, his eyes full of a few tears themselves. “I… I promise.”

They decided that they needed to be on guard, Thomas could summon any one of them now. Their new plan was to try to stand up against the light sides and Thomas, and to stand by each other through thick and thin. So it was - Virgil would get summoned when Thomas needed him and return, telling them all what occurred. 

It was around dinnertime on a crisp autumn night when Virgil didn’t return. Worried, they waited as long as they could, the night getting later and later, eventually eating without him, thinking maybe Thomas had a rough night. Virgil showed up not too long after Janus began doing the dishes, looking pensive. “Virgil, thank god you’re okay, we were worried-” Roman said, walking up to give him a hug. Virgil held up his hands to stop him. 

“No Roman, I… I need to think.” Virgil said, something in his voice Roman couldn’t place. 

“But… but you missed dinner, and-” Roman said, but his protests were in vain as Virgil awkwardly held his arm. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m… I’m not that hungry. I don’t mean to worry you both, sorry I’m late.”

“It’s fine, Vee.” Janus smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Virgil smiled back. “If...If you need me, I’ll be upstairs, okay?”

“O-okay.” Roman said, a small comforting smile on his face hiding his confusion. 

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Roman was alone. 

He knew he was right about them, about the light sides, and yet… yet more and more his family believed them, and… and they left. Virgil changed and moved in with them in a heartbeat after they’d saved him - he wouldn’t even need to be saved if it wasn’t for them in the first place - Vee said they changed. They were more open, accepting, that they loved him. 

All Roman could see was fake lies. 

When he called it out, Virgil left with an angry rip of his old sweatshirt, leaving Roman wondering what he did, what they did to him. Janus followed suit soon after, claiming that Virgil was really right. Did everyone forget what they did?! Did everyone forgive them so damn quickly for YEARS of torment, of abandoment?! It wasn’t.. It wasn’t fair! 

Roman was alone. He was sad, upset, angry...crazy? But finally, after all this time, sane. 

He finally knew what they wanted - a villain. Someone to point at and laugh at and crtisize and hurt. Roman couldn’t help but laugh, oh how it all made so much sense! They wanted someone to blame for everything, and still they’re blaming him. Roman’s tears dried as his chuckle echoed throughout the Darkscape. 

Well, if they wanted a villain, they’d get one. 

Roman snatched up Janus and threw him in the cell, his back making a satisfying crack as it hit the iron bars at the other end, leaving the scaled side to fall into a heap on the floor, letting out a soft groan. Virgil rushed over to help him, shaking like a leaf. “Janus-”

Janus coughed as he sat up again, struggling to get the air that was knocked out of his lungs back. “Roman, let us go! This isn’t funny anymore, let us out right now!”

“The pathetic thing is that you still think it’s a joke, Deceit.” Roman laughed, walking over toward the mirror to put on his crown. His hair was tidy and a crisp black prince outfit stood in place of his normal clothes as he fiddled with the collar, admiring his reflection. “I’m afraid your presence here is, well, essential to my plan.”

“P-plan…?” Janus questioned. “Roman whatever you’re going through we can figure it out together, okay? We’re a family-”

“Don’t you DARE utter that word again, you lying snake-!” Roman snapped, looking toward him with a cold sharp stare. “You choose those...those bastards over your own family, you left me for them.” His fists clenched as he hit the bars hard, making Janus jump and Virgil to cling to his side closer. “You don’t GET to be my family anymore.”

“Roman…” Roman could hear the emotion forming in Janus’s voice as he turned away to look out the window for a second before grabbing his sword to sharpen. “Roman, why…?”

“Why?!” Roman pointed his sword at Janus accusingly. “You both abandoned me and left me alone for people who hurt us, who kicked us toi the curb when things got tough.” He steadied himself, slowly calming his demeanor. “But, I guess i really should thank you both. Without you two, I’d have never realized my true role in all of this.”

“Role?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard, Jan?” Roman smiled slyly. “It seems as if I’m cast as the villain right now, what a shame. Would’ve really rathered playing the hero, but I guess you take what you can get these days, hm?”

“Roman.” Someone growled. Roman heard a voice from behind him, and just from the tone he already knew who it was. He wasn’t scared. He was playing his part beautifully, as he was always meant to be. He turned just as Remus struck with his morning star, weapons clashing. Remus looked extremely angry, and Roman couldn’t help but smile. 

“Wondered when you’d show up.”

“Let them go, Roman.” Remus growled, looking ready to pounce. Roman just let out a soft chuckle, turning into a giggle, soon his crazed laughter filled the room, making Remus hesitate in shock and confusion. “R-ro…?”

“Oh, what a hero! Man, we should have been playing this way from the start, this is so much better!” Roman laughed. “Would’ve done without ripping out my heart and feeding it to me, though. Notes for next time, ey?”

“Next...time?”

“Yeah, maybe not draw it out too much. Really make my life hell near the beginning and save us all some trouble, yeah?” Roman smiled, clashing swords with his brother. 

“This isn’t some game, Roman!” Remus shouted. “Release them right now, or…”

“Or you’ll what? Finish me off? Would be a bit of a gruesome scene for the kiddies, no?” Roman asked casually. “A bit dark for the hero, isn’t it?”

“H-hero…? But.. but I-”

“Well, please Remus, there’s no need to insist here, if you really like that ending, who am I to stop the famous hero’s wishes?” Roman calmly smiled as he dropped to his knees, dropping his weapon and kneeling his head. “Uh, maybe make it a bit quick, if you will? It’s my first time with a beheading before.”

“Roman...I…” Remus looked down to his twin, head bowed, and then to his morning star. “Roman, stop it! This isn’t right-!”

“Right? Hm, where have I heard that one before?!” Roman yelled, snapping to his feet to grab Remus’s neck and slam it into a nearby wall. “Guess you were smarter than you knew back then, huh? The bad of what we used to be…” Roman gestured to himself with a snicker. “It’s all right here, baby.” With a bit of creative magic he’d chained Remus by the neck, laughing as he snatched Remus’s glistening silver and green crown as he slowly lowered it over his head, turning pitch black. “Finally, after all these years, I get to take something from you, brother.”

As he marched toward the balcony, his shadow crossing over the iron cage as the two former dark sides huddled together in comfort and protection. He walked out as the sun slowly began to rise over Remus’s… no, HIS kingdom. He smiled as he watched his subjects come out of their houses, as he sat on the railing, legs crossed.

“People of Creativia, there’s been a slight change in management as of late-” He began. “As of now, I, Roman, am your new ruler and crowned Prince, and I hereby demote the status of your former ruler Remus to outlaw.” He heard murmurs from below. “Now, with that out of the way, let a new era of fear and evil plague this once happy town.”

“Welcome, everyone, and meet your Dark Prince.”

The Gift of Jab

For the prompt: Hi! I'm always up for some sparring hotness, so how about Tony being present for physical training sessions (working/watching), but says no everytime Nat/Clint/Steve/etc invites him to do it. Rhodey laughing every time the team says that it's bc Tony doesn't want to embarass himself. Bucky suspects his BF is actually well-versed in hand-to-hand/martial arts/self-defense; so he gives himself the challenge of getting Tony onto the mat. When he does he ends up a)on the floor & b)really aroused.

A/N: This ended up more meet-cute than PWP, hope you enjoy! 

By @dracusfyre

Click here for AO3

Natasha’s thighs tightened around Bucky’s neck warningly, threatening his air supply and reminding him that anyone else’s neck would already been broken. Bucky smacked the mat with an open palm and the pressure disappeared; he lay there for a minute, getting the air back in his lungs from where he had hit the mat so hard, then he took Nat’s hand and climbed back to his feet. “Who taught you to be so fast?” he complained as he traded places with Steve, who had been waiting on the sidelines for his turn to spar.

“You did,” Nat said with a grin. She grabbed her bottle of water while Steve bounced a little on his toes and jabbed the air, not so much warming up as getting in the right mindset.  The sparring mat was in the middle of the room, and on one wall Sam was tearing up the treadmill and bobbing his head to whatever music he was listening to and Tony was doing his own thing in the corner. Clint was sitting in the corner watching, having already reached his fill of getting thrown around the room.

Steve must have noticed Bucky staring goofily at Tony because he followed Bucky’s gaze and watched Tony for a while, frowning in confusion at the strange pattern of movements Tony was making in the air with his arms and legs. “What’s he doing?” he finally asked, tilting his head towards Tony when Nat looked at him questioningly.

“Wing chun,” Tony called out, apparently able to hear them even over the sound of Sam’s treadmill and the music on the loudspeakers.

“Like Bruce Lee,” Clint added helpfully. Bucky and Steve just looked at him blankly.

“You’d like it,” Nat said, elbowing Steve in the side. “It’s really popular with old Chinese grandmothers.”

“I heard that!” Tony said, raising his voice but never pausing his movements. “Also, what you’re thinking of is Tai Chi.”

“But what is it? Is it like yoga or something?” Steve kept watching as Natasha took a moment to put her hair back up in a tighter ponytail.

“It’s a martial art,” she mumbled around the hair band in her mouth as she raked the hair back from her face. “Like karate or jiu jitsu. Ready?”

Steve tore his eyes away and let Bucky do the admiring from afar while Steve concentrated on his match. He lasted longer than Bucky did, which was understandable given he’d been sparring with Nat longer, but she suckered him in with a feint and hooked his legs out from under him, hitting the mat hard. She stood over him, made finger guns at him and said, “Pew pew,” and Steve obediently flopped back against the mat and played dead.  This time, Natasha traded out with Bucky and Steve did a kip up to his feet as Bucky stepped out onto the mat.

“Does he ever spar or is it just to stay in shape?” Steve asked. “I mean, it’s not like he…I mean, when he’s in the suit he doesn’t…” He realized what he was saying as he was in the middle of saying it, especially when he noticed Natasha giving him an unimpressed look. “Of course, he doesn’t always wear his suit,” he muttered, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink. “Right.”

“I can hear you,” Tony said in a high sing-song voice.

“You should join us,” Natasha called back, smirking when Bucky’s eyes jerked to hers in alarm.  “I think the boys want a closer look.”

Tony was silent for so long that Bucky thought he was back to ignoring them, but right as he was turning back to his mat Tony stopped what he was doing and said, “You know what, sure. I haven’t sparred with anyone but Happy for a while.”

He caught Sam’s eye as he came by the treadmill, and Sam took out his headphones. “You going to spar?” he said with interest. Tony never sparred hand-to-hand, he always demurred with a joke or an excuse. When Tony nodded, Sam turned off the treadmill to watch.

“I didn’t realize this was going to be a spectator sport,” Tony complained even though he was smiling. “Who am I sparring?”

Bucky felt the back of his neck burn as everyone but Tony turned to look at him. “I’ll go first,” Bucky said when the silence stretched for long enough that Tony was starting to look confused.

As Bucky shook out his arms and joined Tony on the mat, Clint leaned over to Natasha and said, “I bet Bucky has to tap out because he gets a boner.” Bucky gave him a dirty look over his shoulder, then gave Natasha one too when she shook Clint’s hand.

She just smirked and said, “Keep it clean, boys.”

Bucky brought his hands up in blocking position and closed his hands into loose fists, squaring up while Tony was turned slightly to the side, hands open and in front of his torso instead of protecting his face.  Bucky jabbed at him a couple of times experimentally as Tony dodged and then when he swung a little more seriously Tony blocked it easily and jabbed at the inside of arm, making his fingers go numb for a second.

“Whoa, what was that?” Sam said, raising his eyebrows. “Never seen that before.”

“You have,” Clint insisted. “Bruce Lee, remember?”

Bucky shook his hand out and took up his position again.  He led with an uppercut this time, a little faster and with more power, and Tony turned to the side, letting it swing past where he used to be, and hit Bucky’s throat, temple, chin, and jaw with a flurry of punches and chops, making Bucky stagger backwards from the unexpected onslaught. Then there was a foot in his chest that shoved him backwards and he almost landed on his ass.

“I want to change my bet,” Clint said. “Tony’s a ringer.”

“Buckaroo here isn’t going full speed or strength,” Tony said with modest shrug, though there was a smile playing on his lips.

“Just warming up,” Bucky said, though the truth was that this was a fighting style he wasn’t familiar with. Until Natasha, he’d mostly been from the “stand and slug it out” school of fighting, something you naturally fell into when you were stronger and more impervious to damage than most. Also, well, Bucky was much more used to having a gun in one hand and a knife in the other.

He eyed Tony and tried to slip on a little of the Winter Soldier, rolling his shoulders and trying to imagine what he would do if he were really trying to bring Tony down. So this time, when they squared up, he charged, trying to bodycheck Tony and get his hands on him, ready for Tony to try to dodge. Instead, Tony stepped into the charge, turning so that his shoulder drove into Bucky’s upper chest, pushing him off balance. At the same time his foot was between Bucky’s and his knee drove into the inside of Bucky’s thigh, making him lose his footing. Bucky rolled into the fall, coming up on his feet. He jabbed a couple of times, making Tony give ground, then followed up with a side kick, expecting Tony to dodge or block. Instead, he ducked by leaning back and kicking the thigh that Bucky was standing on, then catching Bucky’s other leg on his shoulder, forcing him to land on his back. Tony kept a grip on Bucky’s leg and followed him to the ground, pressing his knee to the side of Bucky’s. It was clear that in a real fight Tony’s next move would be to tear the ligaments in Bucky’s knee, and Bucky tapped out. He lay there for a moment after Tony released him, heart pounding with more than just the rush from the fight, before he accepted Tony’s hand to get back on his feet.

“Again?” Tony asked, bouncing a little on his toes, smiling widely. His hair was slightly damp with sweat, tank top clinging to his torso. “Best two out of three?”

Bucky’s mouth went dry and he swallowed, skin feeling tight. He stalled for a moment by grabbing a towel and swiping it over his face, worried that going another round would be a bad idea. But in the end he was helpless against Tony’s enthusiasm. “Sure,” he said after a minute, and the rest of the team cheered.

As they squared up again, Bucky assessed his next move; in a real fight, he would try to take Tony to the ground, but there was no goddamn way he could grapple with Tony without embarrassing himself. Having Tony kneeling between his legs for just a second had already been bad enough. 

He started out with a flurry of kicks, keeping them low so Tony couldn’t try the same trick again. Tony didn’t return them, he only deflected them while stepping back, a frown of concentration on his face. The last kick, however, he caught Bucky’s leg and stepped forward, making Bucky hop backwards or fall over. When Tony tried to sweep his leg Bucky did a backflip, curling his legs in tightly to avoid hitting Tony on the chin. He landed gracelessly, but he was on his feet; backflips were not his thing because the arm itself and the supporting metal in his shoulder made him lopsided, which affected him in the air. Tony took advantage of Bucky’s unsteady landing to attack with a flurry of lightning fast jabs. Bucky brought his arms up to protect his face and got sharp jabs to the solar plexus and ribs, threatening to knock the wind out of him; he tried to punch back to get Tony to back off, and got hit in the throat. Finally he tucked his head and barreled into Tony, who turned on his heel like a matador and push kicked him in the small of the back. Bucky stumbled forward and when he finally turned back around to face Tony, Tony look so goddamned pleased with himself that Bucky had to laugh.

“Come on, then,” he said, doing the come here gesture.

Tony shook his head, hands up in the same starting position as before. “Wing chun doesn’t really start fights,” he said. “That’s not why I learned it.”

Clint hooted from the sidelines. “Hear that? Tony doesn’t start fights, he ends them.”

Tony and Bucky rolled their eyes and shared a grin. “Alright,” Bucky said, and swung at Tony again, a jab with his left followed by a hook with his left; as he anticipated, Tony blocked and countered with a chop to his neck like he’d done earlier. This time, though, Bucky dipped and twisted so that the blow hit his shoulder instead and grabbed Tony’s wrist. Tony lunged and hit Bucky in the chest with his elbow, hard enough that it would have knocked the wind out of a normal person. Bucky countered by hitting Tony in the side with his free hand and felt bad when he heard Tony grunt, but without hesitating Tony drove his heel into Bucky’s instep and then his knee into Bucky’s thigh. Bucky felt his leg twist at the impact but stayed on his feet and kept his grip on Tony’s wrist.

Until Tony somehow twisted in his grip, sweat-slick wrist slipping from between his fingers as Tony trapped Bucky’s arm against his body then ducked under it, twisting Bucky’s am behind his back. He kicked the back of Bucky’s knee, making it buckle, then with a knee to the center of Bucky’s back Tony drove him to the floor.  Bucky struggled just enough to know that Tony had a solid lock on his arm; Tony was a heavy weight pinning him to the mat and Bucky’s breath caught in his lungs. He felt himself flush hot and then cold, skin tingling, and knew if he struggled too much Clint would win his bet. He tapped the mat with his free hand and Tony released him immediately. Bucky blew out a breath and rolled over, only to find Tony standing over him.

“I’ve known Natasha for longer than you have,” Tony said with a smile as he held out a hand to help Bucky pick himself up off the floor.  “You taught her to be fast, and she taught me. Taught me some of her tricks, too.”

“Even the leg thing?” Bucky asked, and wished he hadn’t because then he pictured having his head between Tony’s thighs and he had to force his thoughts to something else. Behind them, Clint was scowling as he handed Natasha money from his wallet.

“No, not the leg thing. No one but Natasha can do the leg thing,” Tony said ruefully. Then he looked at Bucky expectantly and Bucky realized he was still holding Tony’s hand.

Bucky felt his face get hot and let go quickly. “We should do this again sometime,” he offered a little breathlessly. “It was fun.”

“Even if you were taking it easy on me,” Tony said, taking a towel from Sam and running it over his face.

“I went as fast and hard as I would go with anyone but Steve and Thor,” Bucky countered. He pulled his shirt up to wipe off his face and when he lowered it, he caught Tony staring at his stomach before his eyes flew up to met Bucky’s.

“That’s fair,” Tony said, and his grin said he knew he’d been caught looking and didn’t care. Bucky grinned back because all of a sudden it had become the best day ever. “You know, I think I’m done for the day. Are you hungry?”

“Sure,” Clint said, and he was about to climb down off his perch when Natasha grabbed his arm, fingers digging in with warning.

“He wasn’t asking you,” she said, and though she was smiling it was all teeth. “Don’t fuck this up,” she hissed, impressively managing to say it without moving her lips. "They might not try again for weeks." Bucky’s neck burned and he hoped Tony couldn’t hear her, even though Steve’s carefully blank expression said that he definitely could and furthermore, he agreed. Behind Tony’s back, Sam gave him a discreet thumbs up, and Bucky was ready to murder all of them.

“I am, yes,” Bucky said, resolutely ignoring the chuckleheads in the peanut gallery. "I just, uh, need a shower and I'll be ready."

"It will be faster if you shower toge-" Clint started, and Natasha elbowed him off the bench before he could finish.

"You kids have fun," Sam said, and Bucky left before his face could get any redder. 

Empty souls

Previous chapter

0.09

“She was falling behind. I did what I had to.”

Jill could practically hear how the young man rolled his eyes as he spoke. No wonder the delinquents had been following his orders like faithful and helpless servants ever since they landed. Bellamy could sound authoritative when he wanted to.

Sitting up with a groan, Jill opened her eyes to see Bellamy and Octavia both sitting in her tent. She could tell they had bickering about something, Bellamy’s jaw was clenched, and the younger Blake was pouting. “If the wind changes, your face will stay like that O.”

Octavia smiled at her friend before nodding her arm playfully. “Nice to see you too Jill, how are you feeling?”

“Sore, but I’ll live. What’s been going on here?” Blake siblings shared a look that let Jill know something bad had happened. Wasn’t that always the case? The loud boom. “The second drop-ship?”

“No survivors.” Bellamy answered bluntly.

“Oh god.” Jill gasped. She was about to ask if they learned who died when she remembered who Clarke’s mom was. She didn’t want to know if Abby Griffin had lived or died.

Octavia stood from her perch on Jill’s bed. “I’m going to let Clarke know you are awake, Bell keep an eye on her.”

The moment Octavia left the tent the awkward tension took over. Jill pulled at the threads of the thin blanket that was covering her. She could feel Bellamy’s glare burning a hole into her. His anger was now aimed at her.

Jill counted the minutes until he finally snapped at her. They lasted two minutes. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Finn?”

“Tell you what?” She asked, confused.

Bellamy made a tutting noise before continuing. “How badly the grounders hurt you. You have cuts and bruises all over your arms and legs that you hid, not to mention the stab wound.”

“It was my decision to go, I wanted to help.” She shrugged, “all we did was make it worse and-”

“You didn’t make it worse. Anya seemed to respect you, we can use it to our advantage.” Jill scoffed at his comment. “You don’t think so? She shook your hand. She likes you more than Clarke.”

Jill tilted her head to the side, “comparing me to the princess?”

Bellamy grinned at her and shrugged. It was rare for them to share a moment together that wasn’t full of arguments and arguments. Bellamy cupped Jill's face and ran his thumb over her cheek. He cleared his throat to say something but was cut off by his sister yelling. She wanted him and Jill to go to the drop-ship right away.

______

“John!” Jill yelled before kneeling beside a wounded Murphy. He looked like he’d been to hell and back. John opened his eyes and acknowledged Jill’s presence.

Jill was so focused on Murphy that she almost missed the conversation happening behind her. “We hanged him, we banished him, and now we're going to kill him. Get the Hell out of my way.” Jill jumped to her feet and spun to see Bellamy pointing his gun at Murphy while Finn tried to stop him.

Bellamy clenched his jaw when he saw Jill stepping in front of him, “Move.”

“No.”

“Move out of my road.” He barked, Jill folded her arms and blocked him every time he tried to move. “Be smart about this, Jill.”

“You aren’t killing him!” Jill snapped, while smacking the gun out of his hand. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Clarke stepping towards Murphy. “Don’t even think about it princess.”

Clarke put her hands up defensively and stepped back. “I just want to know what happened.”

“What happened?” Jill scrunched her face up at the question. “You and Bellamy tossed him out to the grounders that’s what happened! They tore off his goddamn fingernails!”

Bellamy looked at her blankly. “We need to know what happened.”

Jill let out a sigh of defeat. “I’ll speak to him, but you two have to leave.”

______

Murphy had his head rested against Jill 's chest as she ran her hair through his fingers. They had spoken little since Bellamy and Clarke left. Jill didn’t want to push him for information about what the grounders did to him. She already had a rough idea.

“Get into any trouble while I was gone?” Murphy asked in between coughing fits.

Jill wasn’t sure what to say to him, “I got drunk and kissed the princess.”

Murphy turned his head and looked up at her. “Was she a better kisser than me?”

She chuckled at his comment and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “She wasn’t. Nobody is a better kisser than you.”

“Good. Now tell me about you making out with another girl.” Murphy let a smile briefly spread across his face as he felt Jill vibrate with laughter. The noises she made were enough for him to finally fall asleep.

______

It traumatized Murphy. He could have sworn his heart stopped beating when he saw Jill being brought back into the drop-ship. She had left to get something from her tent and didn’t return until she was being carried in. She looked dead. Clarke assured him she was alive, but he still wasn’t so sure.

“You care for her, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond to Octavia's question; the girl talked far too often for his liking. He was scared to take his eyes off Jill, in case she began choking again.

“Why didn’t you come back for her?”

“Do you ever stop talking?” He snapped, shaking his head.

Octavia let out a small laugh. “It seems you have a soul after all.” The dark-haired girl looked him up and down, “The grounders really did a number on you.”

“Observant.”

Octavia raised her eyes. “Jill looked worse when she came back, I honestly thought she was going to die. This will be the third time I’ve almost lost her.”

“What do you mean she looked worse?” Murphy asked, confused. “Did...did they take her?”

“Oh, um…” Octavia mentally slapped herself, she just assumed somebody would have told Murphy. “They took her.”

Murphy shook his head as he wiped Jill’s face with a damp cloth. To his relief, the color had returned to her cheeks. “What did they do to her?”

“Stabbed her, pulled her toe nails off, cut her arms and legs. Jill said they kept asking her questions, but she didn’t understand what they said to her.” Octavia gulped down seeing the look on Murphy’s face. It was obvious her friend meant a lot to him. “She’s given my brother and Clarke hell for banishing you. They had a meeting with the grounders and their leader shook Jill's hand and ignored Clarke.”

What? As Octavia continued to tell Murphy everything that happened since they banished him. He couldn’t believe how much Jill had accomplished on her own. “Wow, she’s been busy.”

“Yeah, but she’s missed you like crazy.”

“Why are you telling me this? We aren’t friends. Bellamy has tried to kill me multiple times, I’ll no doubt be banished again after this.” Murphy finally took his eyes off Jill to stare at Octavia while waiting for an answer.

“Jill is my friend, my only friend, and I want her to be happy.” Octavia glanced down at Jill. “You make her happy, and for the record, I don’t agree with what happened that day. I’m still pissed at you wanting to kill Jasper, but I never wanted you to get floated.”

Murphy opened his mouth to respond when more delinquents got brought into the drop-ship, including Bellamy. Octavia rushed to her brother's side, leaving Murphy on his own. He tucked a stay stand of purple hair back underneath her hat. He wished she was awake, so they could talk so badly, Murphy wanted to tell her so many things. That he was sorry about what happened with Charlotte, he was sorry for being such a dick when they landed, and he wanted to apologize in advance for what he was about to do.

______

Jill woke to the sounds of snoring around her, apparently she wasn’t the only one who caught the virus. The last thing she remembered was walking outside and suddenly feeling faint before throwing up blood. She was losing count of how many times she’d almost died on earth.

Quietly she slid off the table and began looking for Murphy. Making her way through the drop-ship she was shocked to see Bellamy among the infected. He was thankfully sound asleep. Hearing a muffled noise in the other direction, she headed towards it.

She was startled to see Murphy leaning over somebody. Jill wanted to get his attention but didn’t want to wake anybody else up.

“Bygones.”

Jill watched in horror as Murphy threw a damp cloth on the ground and attempted to walk away. He froze on the spot when he saw her. Her eyes filled with tears as she realized what he had just down, Murphy had just killed someone.

Next chapter

~~i stayed up til 4 am and wrote beauyasha and i regret nothing~~

When the Nein return to the tower, Beau finally has a chance to read Yasha's poem.

Awkward conversation ensues in a room full of flowers.

_______

how do i wake my spirit cold? [AO3 link]

It had taken Beau a solid three reads to convince herself that this poem was actually real, not just something that her cold-snapped brain had imagined for a fleeting sense of warmth. She’d gone from staring at the words blankly to reading slowly, scrutinizing the angles of each letter, and on her seventh read she’d discovered that it was impossible to tear her eyes off the piece of parchment in her hands. This was now the eighteenth time in a row she’d scanned over these four lines, though she’d long since memorized their contents. At this point, she was less reading a poem and more gazing at a painting. Its beautiful simplicity hit all at once, like a thin blade between the ribs.

Many months ago, Beau might have guessed that Yasha’s handwriting would resemble her intimidating appearance, or maybe even her fighting style: sharp and strong, rough strokes and firm lines. Now, the slight, slanted script on the page came as no surprise, not when Beau had all but reached out and touched the soft edges hidden under layers of rage and anguish - and shawls. Yasha was big on shawls.

Eventually, Beau knew, she would have to put this piece of paper down and stop reading, but her hands and eyes had yet to consider that idea for themselves.

Her breath stayed steady despite her sparking nerves, years of practice kicking in to steady her. After she folded that piece of parchment up, what could she possibly do? Sleep? Not a gods-damned chance. The tower was safe and still, much unlike the thumping in her chest. As skilled as she’d become at controlling her lungs and diaphragm, the ability to keep her heart calm eluded her.

She knew it was a symptom of something that she’d avoided addressing for as long as possible, a creature that would longer allow itself to be pushed off and locked up. Beau had done her best to drown it alive when she’d learned why Yasha pressed her own heart between the pages of a book to desiccate along with torn petals and broken thorns. Loving dead flowers left little room to tend a new garden.

For all Beau’s attempts to do otherwise, she kept coming back to this, perennially doomed to weather the most apocalyptic storms.

In an effort to inspire some new consideration besides poetry, Beau let the paper flutter onto her desk and took to the fighting post. She’d been curious to see how adaptable the tower’s contents really were, and she’d asked Caleb for a variety of weighted staves to train with in this rendition. She grabbed the heaviest one from its mount on the wall. Maybe if she exhausted herself by whaling on the fighting post, she’d be able to fall asleep sometime in the next several hours.

As soon as she started swinging, it was clear that her plan would be fruitless. Her muscles could go on autopilot and run through routines she knew deep in her bones, and she’d built up too much stamina fighting gnolls and ghosts and undead sea monsters to tire herself to the point of genuine exhaustion.

Despite all of her mediation training, she couldn’t shut her brain off. She’d been in research mode for weeks now, mind racing constantly to piece together theories that somehow sounded less and less wild the more their group trekked on. Even while sparring with this helpless post, she exerted more effort willing herself not to sit back down at her desk and scour between the grains of the paper Yasha had given her for clarity and truth.

She made a last-ditch effort at meditating, sitting in the middle of the room with her legs crossed, counting her inhales and exhales. It was the first technique Dairon had taught her, the simplest form of breathwork. The goal was not to control or influence the breath, but to build awareness of one’s natural pace without judgment. At the time, Beau laughed at the possibility that she could go a second without judging (herself or others). But she'd changed so much since then.

She felt herself smile, recalling a conversation from what felt like ages ago.

Thank you for not judging me, Beau.

Have you seen me? Who am I to fucking judge?

I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you a lot.

Was that it? Was that the moment that the harmless flirting had developed its own sense of gravity? That Beau had suddenly found herself tongue-tied during their most superficial conversations, yet secretly hoping for even the briefest moment alone together?

Without intention, her breath had started to line up with the endearingly crooked meter of the poem repeating infinitely in her mind. She inhaled through one line, then emptied her lungs by the end of the next.

Each time she ran through that short stanza again, more questions frayed out like a string splitting endlessly. None of the answers she sought could be found in the library. She’d only need to go one floor down, not two.

All distractions exhausted, Beau considered knocking on someone else’s door instead of seeking the one stamped with lilacs, but she couldn’t come up with a good reason to do so. Veth and Caleb would be together, huddled in front of a cozy fire and having one of those intense conversations meant only for them. Caduceus usually went to sleep early anyway, and he’d eaten a whopping dinner. No way he’d still be up. Fjord had taken up his own meditation practice, and far be it from Beau to interrupt that. Jester - well, that was just a bad idea. If Beau mentioned the poem (and there was very little chance she’d be able to talk about anything else), Jester might just drag her down to Yasha’s room and throw her through right the door.

If Yasha could be brave, so could Beau. In fights, that was the very thing that pushed her to go as hard as she did. She knew that Yasha would be there to pull her out of a giant lobster claw if her risks didn’t pay off. They had each other's backs, always.

Would that still be the case when neither of them held a weapon in their hands?

Only one way to find out.

Beau opened and closed her own door as quietly as possible. Jester had some kind of sixth sense when it came to Beau’s interactions with Yasha, and Beau really didn’t want to explain anything when she wasn’t even entirely sure what was going on herself. She whispered the command word to the lift and sank slowly to the next floor down. She was careful to keep her knock quiet, though it probably wouldn’t wake Caduceus. No promises that Jester wouldn’t somehow hear it, no matter how thick Caleb claimed the walls were.

There was a long beat before Beau heard footsteps. Her stomach flipped - had she woken Yasha up? Normally she relied on some burst of brash confidence to start a conversation, and it had already taken her nearly an hour to build up the courage to step into the hallway and onto the lift. This was too different from the casual check-ins and mid-battle flirting that had happened more often in recent weeks, and Beau forgot every normal greeting she knew when the lilac-emblazoned door swung open.

She only had one thought: “Yasha.”

“Goodnight, Beau,” Yasha said. Quickly, she added, “Not goodnight like ‘goodbye, you should leave.’ Goodnight as in good morning. Like a greeting, I mean.”

“Ha, yeah. Goodnight, I guess,” Beau replied with a little wave. This was going about as badly as possible. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no, no. I was just - well, I cannot read Zemnian, but those books Caleb gave us have very nice covers.”

“Yeah, they’re cool,” Beau said. She had an opening here. Might as well take it. “Speaking of reading...”

Yasha raised her eyebrows.

Beau tried to swallow the dryness in her mouth. It didn’t work. “I checked out your poem.”

“Oh, you did?” Yasha asked.

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe a little.”

Beau wasn’t sure where to go with that, and all she could come up with was a stilted laugh.

Yasha joined in with her own quiet chuckle. The way she bit her lip, lost in thought, made it clear that she was just as much at a loss for words.

This was a bad idea. Beau hadn’t been thinking straight, obviously, when she’d come down here with a million questions and no plan for how to ask them.

“Okay,” Beau said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “I guess I’m gonna--”

“Do you want to come in?”

Beau blinked. “What? I mean, sure. Yeah.”

Yasha stepped back from the door to open it wider, and Beau stepped inside the flower-laden room for the first time since Caleb’s magical mansion tour.

The door settled shut behind them, and they were left standing in the middle of the bright, colorful blossoms.

“So,” Yasha started. She didn’t go on.

“Nice plants,” Beau commented, nearly smacking herself across the face for it.

Fortunately, Yasha smiled at that. “Caleb really thought of everything for this place.”

Beau’s mind flashed to the mirror mounted above her bed, and for the first time in many years she had to remind herself to breathe. She was more than getting ahead of herself.

“Anyway,” Yasha said, drawing out the end of the word a little more than normal, “what brings you down to the fifth floor?”

“Ah, just got lost on my way to the kitchen, thought I’d swing by,” Beau tried.

Every time Yasha let out even a small laugh, Beau counted it as a win.

The most concrete question burning in Beau’s skull was rooted in something ugly and frightened. She asked it anyway. “So did Jester put you up to that?”

“It was her idea, yes,” Yasha admitted.

“Oh,” Beau said, not quite catching her voice from cracking.

“I shouldn’t have said that. She only helped because I asked.”

“So it was your idea?”

“Not quite. I don’t think. Not the poem thing, specifically. I told her I wanted to...do something, for you, and that is what she suggested.”

Beau fought against the urge to convince herself that those words could mean anything other than what she wanted to hear. She’d been jumping through flaming mental hoops for weeks, maybe months, trying to talk herself out of this. And then Yasha had the pleasant audacity to write her a poem.

“No one’s ever done that before. For me,” Beau reiterated. She held her hands up. “Hey, I’m no expert, but I thought it was dope.”

“No, you didn’t,” Yasha dismissed.

“No, I did.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

Yasha busied herself by stroking the petal of a nearby flower with her thumb, a small smile creeping in.

“Why’d you write it?” Beau asked. 

Yasha’s fingers stilled. Her gaze stayed fixed on the flower in her hand, and her slight smile grew.

“Do you have a favorite flower, Beau?”

There was the answer Beau wanted to give, and then there was the truth. In the dense quiet, the latter won out. “Not really. Kinda wish I did. Do you?”

“I think...” Yasha gently plucked the flower from its stem. “I think they are all my favorite.”

“Really?”

Yasha nodded, cradling the flower in her palm.

It was, quite possibly, the happiest Beau had ever seen her. She suddenly wished that she knew the name of this plant, of every plant in the room. If something could bring Yasha such tranquil joy, it was worth knowing. 

“The ones in this room are from all over. I’ve never even heard of some of them,” Yasha said.

“Caleb probably read about a thousand botany books just for this.”

“Probably,” Yasha laughed.

“Come on. You’ve gotta have a favorite,” Beau pushed, in the back of her mind hoping that she could use the information for future reference.

Yasha shook her head. “My book...I was keeping it for Zuala at first, but I think I am also keeping it for myself now. I want to remember the places that I’ve been and the things that happened there. Because those things have brought me here, and I am very happy about that, even if some of what happened was...not so happy. I would not be here, with all of you, without every single one of those flowers.” 

She held her hand out, presenting the plucked flower. Beau stared at the five long, carefree, white petals, tinged with a sunshiny yellow at the tips. Slowly, she reached out and was surprised to find the petals were rich and soft like velvet. She couldn’t recall ever seeing it before - maybe it was from Xhorhas.

“And,” Yasha met Beau’s eyes, “finding new favorite flowers to add to my book does not mean I forget the old ones.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Beau agreed.

“This one reminds me a lot of you, actually,” Yasha said, almost whispering to herself. 

Beau felt her heart skip. She’d never been given a poem before, and she’d certainly been compared to something so delicate and precious. She wracked her brain for something witty to say, but she’d never been very good at that around Yasha. “It does?” she choked out.

“It grows in the desert,” Yasha explained. “It's very stubborn and strong. We called it Sunsbane. Even with very little water, it survives the hottest days. The buds stay closed for many years, but the plant stays strong. The roots grow deeper than you’d ever guess just from looking at it above the surface. It can take a long time, but when the nights get cool enough, the flowers finally bloom.” She paused, sweeping her hair behind her ear. “You probably didn’t come here to hear so much about plants, though.”

Beau could very well have been in the desert herself at the moment - her mouth went dry again, and she felt like it was about a thousand degrees in that room.

Untrusting of her own ability to form words after that, she lifted the flower from Yasha’s hand, then reached up and tucked its short stem back where Yasha had fixed her hair.

“Hey,” Beau managed.

“Mhm?”

“You can tell me about plants anytime, alright?”

“Alright,” Yasha returned. “Okay.”

Beau retreated a step, realizing how close they’d been standing. “White’s kinda more your color, though. Plus, the yellow really...your eyes, it - works. Looks nice. Um, goodnight.”

There was a strange look on Yasha’s face, like she was thinking too hard.

“What?” Beau risked asking.

“Just that...I didn’t answer your question yet. About the poem.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s cool, honestly--”

“Beau.” Yasha said her name so softly that Beau had no choice but to stop protesting.

Yasha took the flower from behind her ear and clutched it to her chest. “You should know that I like this flower very much.”

So much of Beau’s old self - the person who’d just tried to leave again - wanted to bolt for the door, but her new self locked down and stood her ground. Inhale, exhale. “I think it likes you, too,” she said weakly.

Yasha waved her hand, still holding onto the flower. “Jester said some things, and I - well, I don’t know. I didn’t think I should hear them from someone else in case they weren’t true or--”

“They are,” Beau jumped in. “I don’t know what she said, exactly, but I can guess.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like I tried not to for a while. And then that became more impossible than it already was. Just like Sunsbane, I guess. Deep roots, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Yasha said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Not that I - I wasn’t expecting anything. You’ve surprised me in a lot of ways, is all.”

Beau couldn’t handle the guilt on Yasha’s face. It wasn’t her fault, everything that had happened to her, to them. Beau would’ve waited a thousand days in the desert if it meant letting Yasha heal and find herself.

The gap between them had shrunk again, somehow, but it was more unbearable than ever. It felt like every time they got closer by half, always lessening the space but never quite meeting. But Beau was very good at breaking things, and, for once, she could break something for good. Her palm met Yasha’s cheek, fingertips curling around a small braid hanging loosely.

“You said those flowers are pretty damn patient, right?” Beau said.

Yasha nodded almost imperceptibly, like she was afraid Beau’s hand would pull back.

“Then I think you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Still.”

“Well,” with much less confidence than she’d hoped for, Beau asked, “you gonna kiss me or what?”

Yasha’s eyes closed for a moment, her expression neutral save for the slight crease between her brows and the subtle part of her lips. When her eyes opened again, her gaze was angled down slightly, plotting a trajectory that Beau had hardly dared to dream of.

“You’re sure?” Yasha said softly.

Beau’s answer was no more than a breath of a laugh.

Yasha went on. “I just want to make sure that you are sure. I’m very sure, at this point, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be--”

Beau cut her off as gently as possible.

For a moment, Beau’s mind went blissfully blank.

Then it hit her. She was kissing Yasha.

It started soft - not tentative, but quiet.

And then, miracle of miracles, Yasha was kissing her back, and she was much less patient. She was lightning and thunder striking at once, a storm raw and deafening in its power. Beau wondered when her knees would give out under the sheer weight of it - until solid arms circled around her waist and pulled her in.

Desperate to hold onto something, Beau’s fingers wound into Yasha’s hair. Her other hand was trapped just below Yasha’s collarbone, grasping tighter until blunt nails scraped past a cloth edge and found skin.

Maybe Beau did have a favorite flower, after all.

***

Fic prompt: Jnr homeschooling Oscar (p.s: He’s bad at math)

AO3 Link is Here!

The sun is low in the sky beyond the Atlas horizon, burning the icy tundra a bright and burning gold. Beyond their dorm window, the wind howls and rattles at the glass, like a long and mournful scream as it snakes its way through Atlas Academy’s towers. Inside, however, is warm and cozy; they’ve piled all the blankets on the floor, made something of a fort to sit comfortably. Oscar wraps one duvet around his shoulders and leans back against the wall, watching bemusedly as Nora darts back and forth around their small room, throwing books and pillows at Jaune and Ren intermittently.

He has no idea what’s going on, but Oscar is sure he’ll find out eventually. He’d come back from today’s training to find all their blankets already on the floor, and Nora creating a whirlwind of pillows, and at this point he’s just content to watch the chaos. On the bright side, Jane and Ren look just as confused as he is, so at least they can all be baffled together.

At last, the blanket amalgamation is complete: Nora takes one last book off the shelf and slams down cross-legged on her pile of blankets, grinning wide. She spreads out her arms. “Ta-da!”

Oscar claps politely. Jaune tugs a blanket off his head and says, “Nora. Please. Please tell me what this is.”

“Blanket fort school session!” Nora lifts a finger. “Because I refuse to do this the boring way.”

“Do what?”

Oscar blinks at her. Understanding clicks. “Is this about the tutoring thing?” he asks, suspicious. Ironwood had mentioned something like this a few days back, after one particular conversation about Oscar’s farm education—and he’d asked team JNR to do it. Oscar has been trying his best not to be annoyed about it ever since. As far as he’s concerned, his schooling is fine, and he’s not sure how he feels about the General’s dismissal of his Aunt’s teachings.

“Nooooooooooooo,” says Nora, utterly unconvincing.

“It’s about the tutoring thing,” Ren admits at the same time. Jaune, beside him, shrugs.

“Blanket fort was all Nora’s idea, though,” Jaune mutters, and gives Nora an exasperated look. “I mean. Really?”

“If we must do school, I refuse to let it be boring!”

“I mean, I guess that makes sense…?”

Oscar shakes his head, biting back a sigh. “Look, um, I appreciate this, but…” He winces, pulling a face, and shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t need tutoring. I mean, maybe I had a few years left in homeschool, but my aunt’s already taught me everything I really need to know.” They’re staring at him. Oscar rubs at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “So… um.”

Nora is immediately aghast. She gestures again to the blanket fort, almost pleading, and when Oscar shakes his head, she slumps. “What! Really?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Jaune almost seems disappointed. “So no calculus?” He sighs. “But I actually like calculus! It was the one subject I was really good at…”

Nora's eyes snap to him and narrow in challenge. “Political science is way better,” she says, sagely.

“Hm. I’ve always preferred Home Economics, myself.”

“You can’t take classes in Home Ec anymore, Ren—”

Oscar blanks, mind still stuck on a few moments ago. His hand slowly falls from his hair. “Uh… calculus?”

The others cut off mid-discussion, looking back. “You know, like fn equals x equals…” Nora trails off at the look on his face. Her hands fall. “Waitaminute. You said you were done with schooling!”

Oscar thinks about this. He holds a hand. “Lemme see.”

All three of them lean in as Oscar cracks open the calculus book, looking down at glossy pages full of equations and numbers and rules. Oscar looks at the book. Team JNR looks at him. Oscar leans down closer to the book, frowning deeply. Team JNR is now leaning so far forward to stare that they’re half an inch away from all unbalancing and falling forward into an accidental dog pile.

Oscar looks up. “Oh,” he says. “This isn’t math.”

Nora falls right back on the ground. Jaune leans back the normal, non-dramatic way, and scratches at his head. “No,” he says. “This is, uh… pretty sure calculus is also math.”

Oscar frowns down at it. “But there are words in the equation…”

“Yeah, those are the… no, seriously, have you never seen calculus?”

“But I know my Aunt said—” Oscar tilts his head. “Hm. Hey, what do you use calculus for, anyway?”

“Lots of things,” Ren says, looking a bit bemused by the conversation. “Chemistry, science, equations…”

“Oh,” Oscar says. He’s quiet again, thoughtful. In the back of his mind, echoes of memories that aren’t quite his own whisper and resonate—  images of a silver cane, clockwork and gears and oil, pencil dust staining their fingertips gray, circles and equations scrawled in neat hands across the paper. Oscar takes them in—  and then firmly shakes the echoes away. “What about probabilities?”

“No, that’s statistics.”

“Oh, I know that one then. Good for crop estimations.” Oscar reaches out—and slowly, carefully, closes the textbook. “I… don’t need calculus.”

“I,” says Jaune.

“Um,” says Ren.

“Hell yeah, stick it to the man!” says Nora, and she takes the textbook and throws it at the bookshelf with a grin that takes up half her face.

Oscar shrugs at the looks Jaune and Ren are giving him. “What? I don’t plan on doing chemistry or lab work anytime soon, and if I only need stats for the farm, then…”

“You can’t just ignore a whole discipline of math!” Jaune argues, looking offended.

Ren, on the other hand, seems almost thoughtful. “What were those farm terms you mentioned before… Oscar. What’s a bushel of wheat?”

“What? You mean, in weight? About 60 pounds per bushel.”

“Barley?”

“Um… maybe 48 pounds per bushel?”

“And when you sell them…”

“Well, um, no, it’s not that simple, you need a—” Oscar pauses, brow furrowing, unsure how to explain it. “Like, for durum! It has to have a certain grade to be sold for a certain thing, right? And for durum, the grade is figured using HVK—”

“What,” says Jaune, blankly.

“—hard vitreous kernels, it’s like— a percent measure of hardness, I guess? So we gotta figure out the grade through that, if it’s 80% HVK, or 40% HVK, and that determines its grade, and what we sell it for and for how much, you know.”

Nora and Jaune look stunned.

“Okay.” Ren nods, though he seems a bit dizzy himself. “What’s sin and cos?”

Oscar looks at him. “...What?”

“Sin and cos. Or, uh, ln?”

There’s a pause. “Bless you,” Oscar says, finally, feeling a bit helpless. He’s pretty sure those aren’t words. Those aren’t words, are they? He’s a bit afraid to ask, now.

Ren turns back to a grinning Nora and a bewildered-looking Jaune with a shrug. “I think he’s fine.”

“What!”

“I mean, I don’t remember the difference between sin and cos either.”

Jaune looks betrayed; Nora laughs. “Ren blanks through anything that isn’t Home Ec,” she explains, looking amused at Jaune’s disappointment, and her grin widens. “Don’t need calculus to cook, so…”

Ren looks somewhat sheepish.

Jaune heaves a sigh. “I mean, fair…? But aw, man, calculus is the only subject I’m really good at! I was kind of looking forward to teaching it...”

Ren shakes his head, but he’s smiling. To Oscar, he says, “I don’t disagree with you, but the General did ask us to tutor you, and I’m not sure if he’ll see it the same way…”

“We don’t have to tell him anything,” Nora says, firmly.

“Nora,” Ren sighs.

Oscar hums, cutting through the argument before it can start. The memories are rising again, insistent—  some past lives must have really liked math, wow—  but Oscar breathes in deep and remembers instead the warm tenor of his aunt’s voice, the rough feel of grain in his hand, the careful count. Oscar may be the next Oz, as people like to say, but he was always Oscar first. He was a farmhand first, before all this came into his life. And… he doesn’t want to lose that. Not yet, at least. Not ever.

His aunt has taught him everything he needs to know, and for now Oscar would like to keep it that way.

So he pulls his shoulders straight and pulls himself up too, certain and sure and sticking with it. “If General Ironwood really wants me to learn calculus…” Which, yech, he hopes not, that was illegible, who would do that to perfectly good numbers?— “Then I’ll learn. But, um… if not… then I’d rather not.” He gives Jaune an apologetic smile. “Sorry?”

“No, no, it’s fine, just bash my favorite subject, it’s fine, it’s cool, I’m cool.”

Nora cackles at him. Jaune puts his head in his hands.

“Well, if not math…” Ren hunts around the pile of textbooks scattered amongst the blankets, and picks out one with a glossy cover. “Perhaps science?” He smiles over at Nora. “We don’t want the study blanket fort to go to waste, after all.”

Nora brightens. Oscar smiles, and draws his legs closer in a crisscross, resting his hands on his ankles. “I can do science,” he agrees. “Can we start with geology?”

“Yes!” Nora throws up her hands. “I’ll get the hot cider! And snacks! And then we can study!” She makes two fists and punches up like she’s trying to break the ceiling. “BONZAI!”

Jaune mimics her with enthusiasm; Ren with a quiet voice and a smaller smile. Oscar echoes their shout a second off-rhythm, and hesitantly bumps the fist Nora holds out his way. He has no idea why they’re so pumped about the studying thing, but it’s fine. They’re happy, they’re having fun—  and at least the blanket fort is warm.

“To the books!”

“To the books,” Oscar agrees, and when he cracks open the textbook he is smiling.

Lizzie/Landon - "I think I'm the first girl to break a bed with a guy, without even having sex with him while doing so." (pls let them break a bunch of other stuff while actually having sex)

two-shot! read and comment on ao3, please!

where you cast those stones you wear;

rating: explicit chapters: 1/2 characters: lizzie/landon; background klaus/caroline, background hope/landon, background josie/penelope; the whole SS gang.

where you cast those stones you wear

part i

----

“There you are.”

Lizzie’s smile is the fakest ass fake smile he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of them.

It’s how she smiles when Wade asks her for donations to his Anime club. Or when Dr Saltzman caught all of them at the Old Mill trying to make moonshine (Kaleb’s idea). Her smiles are especially at their fakest when she wants to pull Hope away from him for some magical assistance to whatever trouble she’s managed to get herself—

—and Josie, and Alaric, Raf, MG, (himself, though she’ll never count him) and probably half the school along as well—

—that week. “Just the person I wanted to randomly bump into in study hall.”

“Really,” he deadpans, not believing her one bit.

He shifts his book just a little closer to his chest. He’s not nervous, but her energy is full of it sometimes, and sometimes it’s just energy personified that bounces off the calm he tries to fill his study hall with.

You know, where they’re supposed to study – in silence, preferably – but with Lizzie, there’s never much of silence.

It’s with a bit of a niggling discomfort that Landon realises he’s learned her tells: Lizzie can talk up a storm, always, but it’s in tense moments that she can’t seem to shut up. Not that he’d ever tell her to shut up; he doesn’t know why he always just wants to be nice to her, despite her printing out posters of VOTE ARTISANAL JAR OF MAYONNAISE FOR HOMECOMING KING last semester and sticking them all over school.

 —

 “Well?” Lizzie prompts, clicking her tongue.

Landon’s just sitting there, and for all his humble bragging about being at the top of their classes he’s just… sitting there, with a look that tells her he’s not quite registering what she’s just said to him.

“I’m—I’m sorry?” he finally says.

Lizzie sighs loudly enough for the entire study hall to send glares their way. Landon attempts to tamp down on their aggression, but all Lizzie does is just sigh louder.

Sorry, Landon mouths apologetically again, raising his hand at Wade, who looks close to crying over exam revision.

“Landon,” Lizzie says with finality.

“Lizzie,” Landon matches her tone. “I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to repeat yourself.”

Murder is the only word that comes to mind with the glare she sends his way. But she decides to humour him.

“Wow, that’s so weird. I feel like I’m just mishearing you. Again, please—hey, I said please.”

Lizzie’s mouth moves around the words she’s telling him.

Landon continues to stare at her blankly. “Sorry, there’s just this weird ringing in my ears. It sounds like you just asked me to be your boyfriend?”

 —

 Elizabeth Jenna Saltzman.

Asking him, resident emo-boy, a marginally competent bird as she always ‘fondly’ calls him, to be her esteemed partner.

“Am I hearing this right?”

Lizzie hisses right through her teeth, “Do not insult me, you moderately competent bird.”

See?

He lifts his book as if to deflect the blow of her mighty glare. “Look, I’m not! I’m just – are you feeling alright? Been getting enough sleep?”

“Two weeks have passed since my mom’s come back, and I have thoroughly exhausted every single mother-daughter bonding activity ever, and she’s moved on from Oh Lizzie, my favourite daughter, I’ve missed you so much snuggling to Who is this Sebastian your father keeps mentioning lectures.” Lizzie adds flippantly: “I’m not vibing with it.”

“Sebastian?”

“Super sexy perma-teen vampire but a complete misjudgement of character on my end.”

“And this isn’t?” Landon mumbles.

“I need to get my mother off my back, keep up.” Lizzie inches forward in her seat. The ends of her hair graze the table with how much she’s leaning towards him, making him look her in her wide, blue eyes. Always with the theatrics. “You’re just about at the exact opposite end of the Sebastian spectrum. Mopey, dependable, not obviously good looking, but your other qualities probably can make up for that. And you’re the kind of guy would probably wake up super early to get me a coffee and croissant before school, because that’s just how cheesy you are.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t interrupt me. Anyway, it’s not just for my benefit either.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

Lizzie’s smile widens just a touch. “Heard your little crush on Hope just went up in flames.”

So is his face now, all puffed out and embarrassed. He lowers his voice and hisses, “How do you know about that?”

“Oh Landon. My sweet thrift store hobbit,” Lizzie sighs. “Everyone knows about it. You wear it like a badge of constant glumness. You didn’t speak to Jed for a whole week after he bought her a sandwich last week.”

“I could’ve bought her a sandwich too, big deal,” Landon mutters.

Lizzie raises a sharp finger and looks smug. “Ah, but you didn’t! See, my boy, you’ve got no game. Now imagine how much cooler your image would be if you were seen with resident popular girl,” she gestures to herself. “Your reputation would shoot up the ranks.”

“There are ranks?”

“Duh,” Lizzie says like it’s the most obvious thing. “And you, being a phoenix without actually possessing any unique phoenix qualities other than resurrecting – ”

“That’s not unique enough?”

“—looking like a pale artichoke in gym class doesn’t help, either. I am your salvation!” Lizzie finishes, hands on her hips and jaw raised like she’s standing centre-stage at their annual talent competition.

Landon narrows his eyes. “You think people will like me more if it looks like I’m dating you?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Move a little.” She takes a seat next to him gracefully, tucking her skirt under her thighs. “Listen. I need my mom to stop breathing down my neck. She’s been looking at me like she wants to give me the birds and the bees talk, with visual aid, flash cards and mini-theatre and I’d rather not go through that again. Once was more than enough. Pretty sure Dad wants her to exact power over my social life, since he doesn’t really have any say in that, and I’m looking at two semesters of constant surveillance. Or a twelve-step programme. And Professor M isn’t helping either—”

Landon shuts his book. “How does Professor M know about your love life?”

“Everyone knows about my love life, Landon. I’m interesting.” She rests an unwilling hand on his shoulder with a grimace. “And soon you will be too.”

“Because I’ll be dating you.”

“Fake dating,” Lizzie corrects primly.

“And you think Hope will like me, even though I’ll be unavailable?”

“There’s something to be said about wanting the unattainable, Landon. And trust me, you will be unattainable once you’re standing by my side.”

“Yeah, because everyone will think I’m nuts.”

“I resent that. Say yes.”

“Lizzie, I—” a panicked, helpless sort of look crosses Landon’s face. “This is really dishonest; I don’t think we should be…”

“Let me do the thinking for both of us, alright Little Bird?” Lizzie snips. “Getting back in my parents’ good books, the teachers off my backs for any sort of inevitable breakdown, and you… get to be Professor M’s potential son-in-law one day.”

“This is extremely coercive, you know,” Landon points out, but the protest is feeble at best. “And making me really uncomfortable. Nobody will buy it.”

“We’ll just have to put on a really good show,” she swears. “Say yes.”

 —

 Two things happen the next two days:

Landon attempts to say hi to Hope, who looks right through him to greet MG a good morning.

During lunch break, by some kind of miracle, he joins Hope and Lizzie for lunch just in time to hear Hope say, “You were right about the bio homework, by the way. Your ideas aren’t that bad, Saltzman.”

Lizzie cocks an eyebrow at Landon. “Welcome, Kirby.”

“Oh, hey Landon,” Hope greets warmly.

Landon takes all of thirty seconds to make up his mind.

Lizzie’s phone vibrates in her bag. When she checks it, it’s from Landon.

Just one word.

Yes.

 —

 Every Friday evening, the rag tag group of upper-secondary students meet for some dumb study group Emma had made them all participate in, in an effort to like, ‘bond’ as ‘one’ ‘community’ or something.

It’s astonishing that all of them consistently make it every single week, but no one will admit it’s because they appreciate each other’s company. They’d chalked it up to Stockholm Syndrome.

Rafael comes when he feels like it, but he’s usually stuck in detention helping Dorian jar newton eyes or something, but even he tries to be on his best behaviour so he doesn’t miss much of these.

It’s during one of these study groups that MG, having been not-so-discreetly been spying on Lizzie and Landon whilst they all parroted off chemical equations to each other, demands: “Why are you touching him?”

He’s probably been watching them really closely since the Bomb had Dropped.

Lizzie makes sure to have Josie walk into them in the courtyard one day with her hand placed very carefully on Landon’s thigh, and shocks her twin so much she goes running through the hallways until she bumps into Penelope, and blurts out the scene she just witnessed, swearing her to secrecy.

Penelope, of course, tells everyone else.

Lizzie pretends to fidget with the hem of her shirt. “Excuse you?”

MG narrows his eyes. “You just… keep putting your hand on Landon’s arm. Willingly. Why.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Penelope smirks, whilst Josie turns red and avoids Lizzie’s glare, “they’re the Salvatore School’s It Couple right now.”

“Fake news,” Jed coughs into his notes, and Kaleb guffaws.

Hope doesn’t do anything but watch the entire exchange with curious eyes.

“Look, Penelope, you don’t have to believe it,” Landon begins, but he’s making mopey eyes at Hope, so Lizzie decides to cut in.

“As devastated as I am to admit it, Frodo’s been growing on me,” Lizzie sighs, the vision of a woman distraught. “Who knew I was into nerd porn?”

MG’s ears might as well be whistling, and Jed’s cough sounds like a choke now.

“Girl, say what,” Kaleb says in one disbelieving breath. “Tell me you’re not serious. You okay? Been getting enough sleep? Is this a breakdown thing, ‘cause Emma said we have to like, show solidarity and help you visualise your inner child and shit—”

Lizzie smarts at that, just a little. Her lips part to shoot some of her automatic sass bullets, but surprisingly nothings comes out. Landon secretly puts his hand on her knee in a secret show of solidarity.

“Kaleb,” Josie says sharply. “People can change.”

Lizzie eyes Landon curiously. He shoots her a small smile, which she looks away from.

“Exactly,” Penelope nods, but she’s smirking in a way that says she doesn’t buy a single thing, and is enjoying every second of watching Landon squirm under everyone’s scrutiny. “Who’d you lose the bet to, Lizzie?”

Lizzie, despite herself, starts to feel annoyed. “I’ll have you know, Penelope, Landon isn’t the short end of an already short bunch of sticks—”

Landon tries to figure out the compliment there.

“Then – then prove it!” MG blurts out. “Kiss. If you’re really a couple, then – Kiss!”

That stops Lizzie short. “Milton. Ew.”

“Really gross, MG.” Hope shoots him a look of distaste.

“Voyeur much?” Penelope smirks.

“Nah, I’m with MG,” defends Kaleb. “This is really entertaining and all, but it’s kinda starting to weird me out. Suck his face. No way you’d do that willingly.”

“You’re all wrong,” Lizzie tells them politely. Or as politely as she can. Things are a-movin’ and she’s excited; she can already feel her legs tingling when she accidentally siphons some of Landon’s magic from his hand on her knee under the table. She swallows down the smugness in her voice, because this is exactly where she’d hoped the day would go. She turns to Landon, and wills him not to look so pale.

“Pucker up, ‘90s,” she coos.

Keeping her face as forced-smiley as possible she leans forward and gives Landon a peck on his lips. A small little one. A peck really, bird to bird.

Landon, to her discreet pleasure, kisses her back.

When they part their chaste, publicly-acceptable form of display, everyone is looking at them, shell-shocked.

Penelope steals Jed’s can of Coke just so she could do a spit-take.

 —

 “That plan worked out awesome. Score one to Saltzman,” Lizzie sighs victoriously as she plops down onto her bed. “Now on to Phase 2.”

“I really don’t want to know what Phase 2 is,” Landon mumbles. He’s got his arm slung over his eyes as he slumps three inches down into Lizzie’s plushy pink armchair.

“Phase 2 is Mom walking into us. She’s about to start baking downstairs. I know. It’s Tuesday. Ready?”

Slowly, Landon removes his arms. He stares at her. For like, a really long time. “What do you mean,” he widens his eyes, “by walking into us.”

Lizzie smiles deviously. Without warning, she lets out a very soft moan.

“Lizzie,” Landon hisses harshly.

“Yes, exactly, keep doing that,” Lizzie responds in a breathless voice, whilst she grins manically at him and flaps her hands, motioning for him to go louder.

“Lizzie,” Landon groans now, completely exasperated. “It’s barely been two days, I really doubt we’ll be having sex right now—”

“Yeah, keep talking dirty to me!” Lizzie all but bellows and jumps up on the bed, the mattress squeaking. She glares at Landon, who sighs, and very reluctantly joins her.

They jump up and down, and every so often Lizzie punches Landon in the arm so he lets out a believable grunt.

The mattress springs keep squeaking. Lizzie keeps up her panting.

After four more minutes of that, Landon’s a little out of breath, puts some spring in his jump, and lands in a pile of Lizzie’s haphazard pillows.

“Give it up, Lizzie,” he says, resuming his previous moping position of arm-over-eyes. “I think I pulled a muscle.”

“Sexy,” Lizzie says the way one might say ‘rancid foot’, but drops down next to him anyway. She stares at the ceiling, and they let out a long sigh.

After about another four minutes of moping, Lizzie turns to her side and swats Landon’s arm off his face. “Enough! Tomorrow night is another day.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” he points out, before propping himself up on one elbow to face her. “About that kiss just now—”

“They totally bought it,” Lizzie can’t resist interrupting.

“You sure you okay with this?” he mumbles in that Landon way of his. He studies her face. She notes the dark circles framing his obsidian-blues.

“Getting cold feet already, Kirby?”

“No, it’s just that—”

Her door swings open. “Elizabeth, do you remember where your mum put the…”

Lizzie and Landon whip around to see a very livid Professor M, staring at them, at the space between them, at the sweat beading on Landon’s forehead, at Lizzie’s once-sleek French braid that has now shaken loose, at the two of them again, at the space between them, and once more at Landon.

“Professor Mika-Mikaels—” Landon squawks, turning white as a sheet.

The growl that emanates from Professor M seems to make the room tremble, and Landon all but stutters to a stop. Lizzie, however, is coming up sunflowers. She practically bounces to her knees and throws her hands up, eyes crinkling warmly, exclaiming, “What did you need of me, my beloved stepfather!”

“Well, darling, I was looking for your mother’s ridiculously expensive sea salt but now I’m looking for something else entirely,” he grits out through clenched teeth, despite being slightly mollified by Lizzie’s welcome.

“And that is?” Lizzie all but croons, making a very conscious move towards Landon. “We’re kind of in the middle of studying right now.”

“Banishing objects, hm? Your books are missing.”

“Invisique,” Lizzie sings in reply. Landon just wants her to shut the fuck up, right now.

Landon’s head disappears, which is a good thing, because he looks like he’s holding in from puking his guts out, the way Klaus observes him like he’s a piece of meat.

“You’re the phoenix, yes?”

“Yes,” Landon says squeamishly.

“Alright,” Professor M seems to deliberate, before flashing over to Landon, grabbing him and throwing him out the room and right down the stairs.

“Niklaus Mikaelson!” comes her mom’s furious bellow.

“For FUCK’S SAKE, KLAUS!” She hears Dad yell. “WE JUST TALKED ABOUT THIS.”

Screams erupt, there’s a clattering of feet, and Lizzie falls out of bed in a perfect traumatised swoon, back of her hand rested delicately on her forehead. “Stepfather! Can we not with the dramatics!”

“We’re going to have a talk about this later,” he warns with a finger wagging her way, his undisguised rage making his accent thicker.

“I’ll miss you when you’re suspended again,” Lizzie pouts.

He groans, already hearing Mom’s boots stomping up the stairs. “As shall I, my sweet.”

 —

 At least Landon’s gotten used to resurrecting. Cause of death: the ire of Professor Klaus Mikaelson.

Lizzie’s waiting for him with a warm blanket when he starts to stir, her head facing the sky like she’s enjoying the sunset. Blinking groggily, he turns onto his stomach and rubs the back of his neck. He feels the weather-worn wood of the docks pressing into his face and he groans. That’s going to leave a mark.

“Welcome back,” Lizzie quips.

“Just because I can’t die doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate some sympathy, Lizzie,” Landon mutters, throwing her a murderous look. “So what’s your damage.”

“Let’s see,” Lizzie says as she drapes the blanket over Landon’s crumpled heap of a body, face and all. “Two weeks of grounding. Mom suggested making it three weeks, but Dad intervened and said he’d rather us be on library duty instead for the rest of this semester.”

“Us?”

“Professor M also suggested throwing you out the window and have me try to levitate you before you hit the ground—”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“—but Mom was all Oh, maybe that’s a little too harsh,” Lizzie continues thoughtfully.

“A little?” Landon squeaks underneath the blue and white embroidered quilt. “Literally dying wasn’t enough?”

“But on the plus side, they were yelling so hard the entire school now knows we were caught post-doing the dirty.” Lizzie shoots him a grin. “On to Phase 3!”

“No!” Landon yells and clambers to his feet. “Lizzie, so far all your plans have kind of sucked for me, you know? How the hell is Hope supposed to like me now that she thinks I’ve slept with you!”

“Easy, lover boy,” Lizzie says, frowning. “This is the 21st century, she’s not a prude.”

“You don’t — you don’t know her like I do,” Landon says, burying his face in his hands and turning towards the water. “She’s not like y…”

He whirls around, hands already halfway lifting up like a gesture of apology but Lizzie’s already standing up, facing him squarely. Her eyes are narrowed as she takes him in coolly. “Not like?”

“Nevermind,” Landon says quickly. “Let’s grab some dinner, I’m starv—”

“Finish your fucking sentence, Frodo,” Lizzie says in a voice that is low and dangerous. Is it weird that he’s seeing some Klaus in the shadows of her face right now?

“Lizzie… let’s drop it.”

“No. Let’s hear you say it. Not like what? You were saying she’s not like me,” she hisses. Her fists are bunched into tight fists and he’s so glad she doesn’t have anything to syphon right now. He really hasn’t tried dying twice in the span of 12 hours.

“Look, I’m sorr—”

“Invisique,” she whispers.

“Lizzie!”

He hears the wooden boards squeak as she runs away, and when her feet hit grass there’s no telling where she might be.

“Fuck you, Landon!” he yells and heaves a rock into the water with a loud splash.

 —

tbc

When All Is Lost, Then All Is Found (Chapter 3)

Rating: K Words: 2,399 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: Kristoff receives a head injury after coming home from ice harvesting and suffers from amnesia, leaving Anna to deal with the fear she never wanted to face. Anna learns to cope through yet another difficult circumstance, and Kristoff learns to see things through Anna’s eyes. Chapters: 1  2  3  4

Chapter Summary: Anna receives news that Kristoff doesn’t remember her, and she doesn’t take the news too well.

Notes: Youch! This was a difficult one for me. All aboard the pain train! Also, please excuse my awful writing. I’ve never written a story before, this is my first. No one will probably see this since I’m posting it close to midnight, so reblogs the next day would be appreciated. :)

Anna waited. Waited for what seemed like hours outside the bedchamber. Consumed by her own sorrow, her heart ached to know whether Kristoff was alright or not. She wondered why the doctor had told her to step out of the room, but she also knew that she could trust him. Doctor Kjellberg was the family doctor for over twenty years, and Anna and Elsa knew him well, they even considered him to be family. Still, she couldn’t help but think about the possibility of losing Kristoff. The image of his head injury was burnt into her mind. ‘How can someone recover from that?’ she thought to herself. The tears continued to flow until she felt she could cry no more, that is, until she heard her sister.

“Anna!” Elsa cried out.

Anna looked up and relief was finally upon her, the tears came back as well.

“Oh, Elsa…” Anna cried as she stood up, hugging Elsa as tightly as she could.

“I know, I’m here now,” Elsa said soothingly. “I’m here.”

Anna curled into her embrace and Elsa could sense that she wanted to be held better, “Come on, let’s sit down.” she sat on the floor and Anna immediately nuzzled into her, allowing Elsa to wrap her arms around her more securely. Elsa wish she knew what to say but she was just as speechless as Anna. Anna didn’t need words though, all she needed was the warmth of her sister.

A few minutes had passed, and Anna steadily calmed down. Elsa waited for the opportune moment to speak with her distraught sister and felt this was her opportunity.

“Have you heard from Doctor Kjellberg yet?” Elsa asked carefully.

“No, and they won’t let me be with Kristoff either.” Anna said with a sour note.

Elsa sighed. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Over a half hour.” Anna said with a raspy voice.

Elsa felt terrible, she knew how much Anna hated being alone, and to be alone in a circumstance such as this must’ve been especially difficult. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner, Anna.” Elsa said feeling helpless.

Anna looked up at her with eyes that could put a person at ease. “No, it’s okay, Elsa. I have you now.” she said with a smile.

Elsa smiled back, feeling empathy for her sister. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying so much. ‘She needs rest.’ Elsa thought to herself.

******

Back in the bedchambers, the doctor continued to monitor Kristoff closely after redressing his head wound. He was there at his bedside, waiting for any signs of movement.

Eventually Kristoff regained consciousness, his eyes struggled to open, and he grimaced at the throbbing pain he started to feel.

“Ah, my head. It hurts so bad…” Kristoff said, his voice sounding hoarse.

“I should think so, young man. You have a very serious head injury.”

Lines formed between Kristoff’s brows, “What? Why? What happened?” he said squinting, turning his attention to the doctor.

“I don’t know how it happened. I do know it must’ve been a pretty nasty accident though.”

Kristoff’s vision transitioned from a blur to a bit more clarity, he blinked rapidly and winced, “Where am I? Is this your place?” Kristoff struggled to say as he felt more pain.

The doctor’s expression changed, he knew from Kristoff’s response that he had something more than just a head wound. 

“I think I’d better explain something to you, son.”

******

Just outside the room, Elsa was still holding Anna, trying to comfort her the best she could.

“Elsa, I’m so scared. I’m afraid I might lose him.” Anna said with a brittle voice.

“I know Anna, but let’s try not to worry until the doctor comes out, alright? Kristoff is very strong, I’m fairly certain he’ll pull through this one.” Elsa said reassuringly.

“But what if he doesn’t?” Anna said looking up at her.

Elsa looked downcast, before she could think of a response the doors finally creaked open, it was the doctor! The sound of the doors triggered Anna to shoot straight up from Elsa’s lap; the sight of the doctor induced her to ask unhesitating questions.

“Is he awake? How is he? Is he in a lot of pain?”

“Yes, he’s awake.” The doctor calmly replied, “He’s in pain, but he’s taking it well.”

“Can I please see him now?” Anna asked as she was already making her way toward the room. The doctor stopped her.

“Yes, you can. But there’s something you need to know before you go in.” He said seriously.

Anna’s brows drew together, and her eager posture wilted away. Her heart flooded with anxiety knowing he didn’t have good knows.

The doctor paused trying to think of the best way to tell her. After a disheartened sigh he said simply: “Kristoff received quite a blow to the head. And….when this happens, memory loss is not uncommon.” 

“What are you saying?” Anna said confused, Elsa came up from behind resting her hands around Anna’s arms.

The doctor sighed once more. “He doesn’t remember that he lives here. And…I think it’s safe to assume that if he doesn’t remember his own home….he’s not going to remember you.” He said as gently as he could.

Anna’s eyes widened, a blank stare glazing over her eyes. She let out a sudden shaky breath as she backed herself into Elsa. 

Elsa wrapped her arms around her now grief-stricken sister, “Is the memory loss temporary or permanent?” she asked, knowing Anna was unable to at the moment, tightening her grip around her.

“It depends, for the majority of cases it’s temporary, but there have been some cases where it’s permanent.”

“I don’t believe you.” Anna said, her breathing shaky.

“Anna!” Elsa said, looking down at her.

“No!” Anna loosened herself from Elsa’s grip, “He just needs to see me, that’s all! Then he’ll remember me, I just know it!” She made her way toward the doors when the doctor stopped her again. 

“Please, listen to me for a moment, your majesty.” He said in a concerned tone.

“No! You don’t understand. I know him. Kristoff and I have something really special. Our love is strong enough to make him remember!” She said with determination.

“Your majesty, listen to me. With a head injury like his it doesn’t matter how cherished those memories may have been, the results are still going to be the same.” He said looking directly at her. 

Anna’s breathing was still unsteady, she shifted her gaze from the doors to the doctor.

“The one thing I ask of you is this,” he appealed. “please be patient with him. He’s going to be very confused, very irritable. But don’t take it personally. And don’t try to force these memories on him, let him ask, let him try to remember. If you force him it will only make matters worse; he needs time to breathe. Just be there when he needs you. This will bare the best result, trust me.”

She stared off, taking all that he said in. After some time she responded,

“Okay...”

“Alright, you can see him.” He said gently, moving out of her way. 

Anna slowly made her way toward the doors when she stopped and turned around, “Can I at least tell him I’m his wife?” she asked.

The doctor thought for a moment. “If the conversation goes in that direction, yes.”

Anna nodded, she readied herself to knock but then hesitated. After refocusing and taking a shaky breath in, she put on a brave face, knocking on the door lightly, proceeding to open the doors. 

When Anna caught sight of Kristoff, her heart shattered even more. This was the first time she saw him consciously deal with the pain, she wished it were her instead. She went ahead trying to be strong.

“Hi, there.” Anna said timidly.

Kristoff tried focusing on the direction of the shy voice. “Uh, hi.” he said through the pain.

Anna proceeded into the room sitting on the chair next to the bed. She sat there for a moment before clearing her throat. “Um, h-how are you doing?” she asked.

“Well, my head is still killing me. Other than that I guess I’m alright.” Kristoff said with a smile creeping at the corner of his mouth.

Anna hummed lightly and then bit her lip. “Do you- uh… need anything?” she said nervously.

“No, I’m fine.”

There was an awkward moment of silence until Kristoff decided to speak again.

“So… are you my nurse or something?” He said sincerely.

Anna blinked a couple times before her eyes widened; A whirlwind of thoughts consumed her mind in such a brief moment, there was a small part of her that hoped Kristoff would have remembered her once he saw her. The feeling of tears came rushing their way through.

“Um, could you excuse me for a moment?” she said as she got up from the chair, quietly walking out of the room at a good pace. Kristoff watched her leave with a puzzled expression.

Anna came back out to Elsa and Doctor Kjellberg, shutting the doors behind her. She took a few steps forward, looking absolutely dismayed. 

“He doesn’t remember me…” she said with the same blank stare returning, “…He doesn’t remember me.” she repeated shaking her head, her eyes full of tears.

“Oh, Anna…” Elsa said as she wrapped her arms around her sister once more.

The doctor put his hand on Anna’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry your majesty. Perhaps a good nights rest is all he needs. I think it would do you some good too.”

“He’s right Anna, we should get you to bed. It’s very late and you’ve been through a lot tonight.” Elsa said.

Anna was still staring off blankly in disbelief, all but a few tears dropped from her eyes that appeared be full, ready to burst.

“Doctor Kjellberg…” she said.

“Yes, dear.”

“Could y- could you tell Kristoff that I’m his wife. I had the opportunity but I- I just couldn’t.” She said as the sobs finally came out.

“Yes, your majesty. I will.”

Elsa turned her attention from Anna to the doctor. “Thank you for everything.”

The doctor nodded with a melancholy smile. 

“Come on, Anna.” Elsa said as she guided her distressed sister to the other room, the next room over from where Kristoff was staying. It was difficult for Doctor Kjellberg to watch. He knew what the two girls had been through throughout their life, and that this was no easier. 

He then returned to Kristoff. 

Once he entered the room, Kristoff questioned him almost immediately.

“Doctor, was that one of your nurses who was just in here?” 

“No, she wasn’t.” He replied low-spirited.

“Oh. Then who was she?”

The doctor paused. “She’s… your wife.”

Kristoff stared at him in complete, utter shock.

“My wife? I don’t have a wife!” He said as his voice slowly got higher.

“Like I just explained to you, your head injury was so severe that it has caused you to experience a considerable lapse in memory.” The doctor explained once more, a bit firm in tone.

“Yeah, but to forget my own wife?!” 

“It seems you’ve forgotten quite a few years, my boy.”

“No, no, no.” A half-suppressed laugh escaped him. “See, I was never planning on getting married. It was supposed to be just me and my reindeer, Sven, for the rest of our lives...ALONE.” 

“Well, as your trusted doctor I can confirm that you are indeed married to the girl you just saw. She’s been worrying herself sick over you.”

Kristoff felt bad for a brief moment before shaking it off. “Okay, let’s say I did get married to that girl. What are we doing living in this castle? Are we servants here?”

The doctor paused again, there really was no easy way of telling Kristoff any of the information he had forgotten. 

“She’s the queen, and… you’re the king.”

“The QUEEN?! And I- I’m the KING?!” Kristoff said in disbelief.

“Yes. For nearly a year now.”

He scoffed. “Okay, the living here part may have been believable, the being married part was semi-believable, but the king and queen part? You have to be joking! This is all just a big joke, right?”

The doctor sighed, “My boy, you’ve had a very rough night. Why don’t you try to get some rest. Things will start coming back to you slowly the more you rest.” He approached the door getting ready to leave the room when he turned to him. “I’ll be in the room next door. I’ll be checking up on you throughout the night. You can ring the bell if you need me.” he was about to leave the room when Kristoff called out to him.

“Hey, wait!” He said suddenly.

The doctor turned to Kristoff’s view, “Yes?” he said.

“What is that gir- my wife’s name?”

“Anna. Her name is Anna.” he turned back around, “Goodnight, Kristoff.” he said as he shut the doors.

“Goodnight.” Kristoff said with confusion written all over his face.

*******

Both Kristoff and Anna’s minds reeled. Though in separate rooms, their thoughts were nearly the same. They now had only one thing in common; They could not believe what was happening.

‘I can’t believe he doesn’t remember me.’ Anna thought to herself.

‘I can’t believe I’m the king!’ Kristoff thought to himself.

One was distressed, the other was perplexed. One cried herself to sleep, the other exhausted himself to sleep with his own anxious thoughts.

Elsa stayed with Anna for the night. Though she felt her efforts to comfort Anna were unsuccessful, Anna did eventually fall asleep. This reminded Elsa of the nights she used to comfort Anna after a nightmare; The only difference was this nightmare was real.

Elsa’s eyes got heavier as she gazed out the window. The sky had cleared up, showcasing the moon that was nearly full. ‘How can that be after such a terrible storm?’ she thought.

Now that Anna was asleep it was as if her body was now giving her permission to let out her emotions. Tears streamed down her face. Her sister was inconsolable, and her brother-in-law, who she considered to be her actual brother, was in a terrible state. She didn’t know what to do other than be strong for her sister.

“Tomorrow’s another day, Anna.” Elsa said quietly as she closed her eyes. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

A Shock Collar for Lysander

Ah how could I miss out on the opportunity of some nice collar whump for Lysander? He’s such a nice soft boi ;) and of course I gotta add some choking and electricity to the mix as well.

After the whipping yesterday, Declan had left Lysander hanging from the ceiling. it was no position to sleep in, and coupled with the still bleeding gashes on his back, Lysander was only able to nod off for a few minutes. For the most part, he shifted his weight between his wrists and toes, with only pain to distract him from contemplating his current situation.

The sun rose, streams of light landing in his cell through the small window, providing him with a moment of fleeting hope that he could get out of here, before the door opened and he was once again faced with his captor.

“Morning, Lysander.” Declan had the same lazy smirk as yesterday.

“Good morning, sir,” Lysander replied flatly, with the faintest edge of defiance. He stared straight ahead, keeping his expression blank, and tried to adjust his posture.

In one long stride, Declan came up to Lysander and laid a hand on his chest, while with the other he ran his fingers over yesterday’s whip marks. “You learn fast, but I just wish that you’d actually mean what you say. Nevertheless, I think you deserve a reward.”

Declan left the room and came back quickly with a box wrapped in a silk ribbon. He set it on the floor in front of Lysander and walked to the side of the room, pulling on the other side of the chain and lowering him.

Lysander landed with a thump on his knees. His hands were still chained together and attached to the ceiling, but the chain allowed for some movement. Not that he could do anything without bringing more pain to his back.

Declan gestured to the box. “Open it.”

Lysander looked up as if to ask for permission, receiving a small nod. He tugged on the ends of the delicate bow tie atop the box, and the ribbon fell to the ground. Gingerly, he lifted the lid off.

It took him a moment to realize what it was. His breath caught in his throat. A collar. The dark leather was thick and sturdy, and he imagined it wrapped around his throat. His mouth went dry and he looked up at Declan again, tears threatening to spill over.

Declan smiled. “Do you like it?”

Lysander didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded, gaze still locked on the collar blankly.

“Put it on then,” Declan ordered.

Lysander looked up. “N-no.”

Declan came closer and grabbed Lysander’s chin roughly. “What. did. you. just. say.”

Lysander’s voice both wavered more and was surer at the same time. “No.” He repeated.

With his other hand, Declan dug his nails into Lysander’s back. “I suggest you think very carefully about your next words,” His voice was completely serious now, and rage flickered in his eyes. “It’s gonna happen either way, and it’s your choice whether you want it to be painful or not.”

Lysander stared up, trying his best to not falter. He didn’t last very long. He chewed on his lips, considering his options. Declan looked mad, and it was scary. If he's just playing around had hurt so much... Lysander didn’t want to risk the alternative. “Please, I- I can’t. You do it, I won’t struggle.”

Declan sighed. “Fine, but only this one time. In the future, when I give you an order, I expect you to follow it.” He picked it up and circled it around Lysander’s neck, drawing a small shudder from him. Declan put one end through the buckle. “Tighten it yourself.”

Lysander looked up, eyes meeting Declan’s. “Why?”

Declan sighed again. “So I know what’s comfortable for you.”

Lysander nodded. “Thank you.” He ran his fingers along the smooth leather. It didn’t feel too uncomfortable. It wasn’t cold or warm, but it could still take a while to get used to its presence. He pulled it through the buckle until it sat snug around his neck.

Declan reached forward and pulled it tighter one more notch. “There you go, it’s perfect now.”

It was tight, too tight. It took some effort to even draw in air, and he strained to speak. “I-it’s, it’s too tight. I can’t breathe.”

“That’s the point.” Declan ran his hand along the sides of Lysander’s neck. “Feel these two bumps?” He waited for Lysander to nod before continuing. “Wanna know what they do?”

“Um, do I?” Lysander touched the bumps.

“Oh, I think you do.” Declan smiled and pulled out his phone. He tapped a few times, before looking at Lysander again. “Ready?”

“...Not really? Does that make a difference to you?” Lysander kept his fingers over the bump in apprehension.

“Nope,” And with that, Declan pressed the button on his screen.

The pain traveled from his neck, through his torso, arms, and legs, all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes. The agony seemed like it was extending out of his body, it was more than he could take. The metal chains around his wrists burned, and he couldn’t shake them off. His hands flew to his neck, clawing at the leather, but instead, his fingers convulsed and wrapped tightly around it, pushing it against his windpipe. His chest seized from the electricity flashing through, and his jaw clamped down in pain. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

Declan kept his finger on the button. He had originally planned to just give Lysander a short shock, but he felt that Lysander needed punishment for his disobedience, and an example of the consequences if he ever did it again. So he held his phone, a finger held down, and stood, drinking in the sight of the helpless twitching form in front of him.

By the time it stopped, Lysander’s face was wet with tears. Declan watched as he still twitched with aftershocks and crouched down, laying a hand on his cheek. “Do you like your gift, Lysander?”

Lysander trembled, finally taking in quick shallow breaths. “Y-yes,” It didn’t even cross his mind to say anything other than that. All he could think was that he needed to please Declan. Angry Declan was bad. “Th-thank you, s-sir.”

Declan sat down on the ground next to Lysander and lifted his head into his lap. “I knew you would,” He ran his fingers through Lysander’s hair, “that’s why I got it for you. It hurt, didn't it?” Lysander nodded and mumbled something, but Declan didn’t care to know what he said. “If you obey me, I won’t have to do it again.”

Lysander nodded. “I will, sir,” he said, knowing that he will but he will also hate it every step of the way.

Declan sighed again and helped Lysander into a sitting position. “I have no doubt that you will, you’ve done well with that already, I just wish you did it willingly.”

Lysander didn’t reply, knowing that he never will, but he knew not to say that to Declan’s face.

“Come on,” Declan took the chains off of Lysander’s cuffs and attached it to the ring behind his collar instead and pulled it up so that he had to lift his heel off the ground just a little to not strangle himself. “The collar can be set to shock you randomly, for 8 seconds each time. I’m gonna go make some breakfast, and if you’re good, I’ll give you some too.”

Declan fiddled with his phone for a bit, showing the screen to Lysander to tell him that it’s been set to randomly shock him. He ran his fingers over the gashes on Lysander’s back one more time before turning to leave, not bothering to close the door behind him. From the stairs, he shouted, “Careful not to hang yourself, dear!”

Can you write something about Alex dying with them being broken apart because of Maria and not knowing how Michael feels about him but then Michael wakes up feeling like a wreck because it was only a nightmare, he didn’t die and so he makes a decision.

The first time he kills Alex, it’s an accident.

He uses his powers and he intends to kill Alex’s dad, but he kills Alex instead. Crushes his chest, breaks his neck—he leaves him laying there twisted and still. Alex stares at him blankly but he always stares. And Michael always knows that he did it. He bolts up the first time and practically headbutts Liz. She rolls back with grace and flexibility he hopes his brother appreciates as he gasps for air.

“I killed Alex,” he tells her, “he’s dead.”

“No, no, no,” she says, coming back over to the bed with far more kindness than he deserves, “Michael you’re going through withdrawal. Alex is fine.”

“You don’t know that!” He says.

“Hang on,” she says and dials his number, pressing a finger to her lips so show he should be silent. It rings several times and goes to voicemail because Alex is dead. He killed him. She dials again. This time it connects, “Alex?” She says.

“What?” Alex’s disgruntled voice comes from the other end, thick with sleep.

“I was just calling to see if you wanted to get coffee,” she says, floundering for an excuse.

“It’s three am, can’t you drunk dial anyone else?” He asks.

Liz sours but Alex can’t see.

Michael remembers the last time he shared a bed with Alex. After the sex. How his hair stuck up in every direction and he made soft sounds even in his sleep. How he wasn’t a still sleeper but when Michael banded his arms around him to keep him from falling off the narrow bed, Alex curled against his chest like a cat and it was the most adorable thing Michael ever witnessed. He tries to cling to that as Liz grabs the bin and shoves it under him and gets out of the room so he can be violently ill again.

Fuck withdrawal.

The next time, Alex dies alone in the desert. Instead of coming back in pieces he doesn’t come back at all. He’s on some special mission so it’s not even on any of the usual channels. There’s no parade, he just gets a phone call weeks after the fact from an attorney who presses a guitar and a handcuff shaped necklace into his hands while Jesse Manes glares at him like he’s the reason Alex is dead. Maybe he is, maybe he always is.

“Everyone’s there for a reason,” he says as Isobel presses a cold towel to his forehead, “right? Maybe that’s why I was there.”

“You know that isn’t true,” Isobel says. She shifts so Michael’s head is in her lap and carefully combs her fingers through his hair, just enough so he can feel it, not enough for her nails to get tangled, “you did nothing wrong.”

“Why does it fucking hurt then?” He says.

“Because you did something stupid,” she says, tugging on his earlobe just to remind him he’s not dying or getting away with it.

“I’m a genius,” he reminds her, “remember?”

“Okay genius,” she says, easing him up and reaching over to grab a glass of brightly colored liquid with a straw in it “take some baby sips and see if you can keep this down.”

Spoiler alert, he can’t.

God he misses the acetone.

Alex kills himself, which is new. Michael knows the statistics but Alex is so much more than that. It doesn’t stop him from doing it. He finds out when Max brings him in for questioning and stands with his arms folded as another detective says he’s a person of interest until the toxicology reports come back. After all, he was named in the note. When Max says they should look at Jesse Manes, the detective says Jesse wasn’t there and he wasn’t named in the note. It’s just Michael. Only Michael is a suspect. It’s fine with him because he knows it’s his fault.

“Michael, Michael I need you to look at me!”

“Go to hell, Valenti,” he says. Or tries to anyway. He also tries to swat him away but finds his arms are pinned down. His power is an echo in his head, he’s being blocked, “Izzzz” he says, the slur as accusatory as he can make it.

Fingers in latex gloves are on his face. Michael has spent his entire life trying to keep out of gloved hands like that so he doesn’t wind up in worse. He grapples past the warm blanket of Isobel’s mind and focuses. He hears Valenti’s outraged squawk as he shoves him back and there’s a thud. Sure Kyle’s probably a good guy and a fucking doctor but Michael’s been dissected and stuffed with cotton wool. He doesn’t really care. Isobel’s power roars up not like a blanket but like a tsunami and Michael’s only qualm with the waves taking him is what he’s going to dream of when they do.

Obviously he dreams of Alex dying.

It’s a slow one this time. Bullet, knife, psychic power—Michael doesn’t know. He just knows there’s blood everywhere. In so many different shades of red. It bubbles from Alex’s lips even as he tries to keep it in the hole in his torso. It’s useless and he stops trying, choosing instead to cup Alex’s cheek and tell him he loves him so damn much and he’s so damn sorry. The blood chokes Alex and the only thing he can do is leave a streak of it along Michael’s shirt when he tries to touch him one last time and is denied even that.

Michael wakes up gagging this time.

He’s fine with dying at this point, honestly. But hands push him to his side and stick a bucket under his chin. When other hands open his jaw and swipe his mouth. He can’t throw them off because Isobel has brought her A-game like an annoying mother hen for her acetone addicted chick. Maybe, he thinks, he’s an ugly duckling. But then he remembers Isobel’s just being a pain and he’s already grown up and still every bit as ugly.

“Where’s Max?” He asks.

“Max is sick,” someone familiar tells him, “he’s getting better, just like you.”

“Not like Alex,” he mumbles. Fingers push through his curls, “where’s Alex?”

“Alex doesn’t know you’re sick,” the nice voice tells him, “do you want him to know?”

“No. I’ll kill him,” he explains, “I always kill him. He can’t see me like this.”

“But do you want him?” the voice repeats, kindness edged in something. You don’t mess with a voice like that. Hazily he gets his eyes to open and looks at the face that belongs to the voice. He doesn’t deserve Maria’s smile, “hey stranger,” she says.

“I fucked up,” he rasps.

“What else is new?” She asks. His eyes are stinging, “Guerin,” she sighs, “come on,” she glares and then moves and suddenly Michael finds himself behind big spooned, “you fuck up all the time,” she says.

“Not like this,” he chokes out.

“Yes like this,” she says and grabs his hands, pulling him close, “breathe with me.”

“Why?” He says miserably.

“Because you owe it to me. Breathe.”

So he breathes.

Alex dies again.

He drowns this time or he floats away. On an iceberg. And MIchael can’t get to him because all the dumb foster homes he went to never thought it was important for him to learn how to swim. He can just yell and grip the impossible cold and try to get Alex to hear him. Alex has to hear him. Even as the water closes over him, even as the ice gets colder somehow. He gets pulled away from Alex again and again and again. He can’t stop the sob this time and it chases him back to consciousness along with the cold.

Along with Alex.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s me,” Alex says, scrambling up. Michael recognizes the white tiles and the lights of Isobel’s guest bathroom. The lights are dimmed. He’s in the bath but the water isn’t very hot. Not iceberg cold but it’s not a great feeling either. Alex touches his cheekbone and he wishes the guest room had a bigger tub so he could get away, “you’re going to be okay,” Alex says, “you’re running a fever.”

This is not how he wants to see Alex again. He tries to think of how he could have found out, but it’s hard to piece anything together from the past few days. It’s a haze. He thinks he may have had nightmares about Alex dying but that’s nothing new. Alex can see how tense he is and his hand leaves his cheekbone. Michael almost wants to grab it back but he also doesn’t and the inability to choose anything makes him feel helpless. He dips under the water and comes up to see Alex still there. He knows he was barely under for a moment but it still seems wrong that he’s here.

“What are you doing here?” He asks finally. If he called for him—then Michael realizes his own body isn’t safe.

“Liz called,” he admits finally, “she said you were running a fever and she didn’t think you’d use your powers on me.”

Michael presses his lips together but that assessment isn’t wrong. Alex is the person Michael is best at not using his powers around. Especially in situations were he otherwise might. His fingers ache even with Max’s healing. Alex sits there and Michael isn’t sure how to feel about how calmly he does. He wonders if Alex thinks he’s an addict or that it’s ridiculous he has to be there to make sure Michael doesn’t use his power. There’s nothing but kindness and ache in Alex’s gaze as he looks at him. It’s been a while since they saw each other, a lot shorter than it feels. But he’s not used to the way Alex is looking at him.

“You weren’t supposed to see this,” he says, realizing that standing up is probably a bad idea, much as he wants to. There’s only one person in the room to catch him, “I didn’t want you to—“ he stops and curses under his breath.

“Do you want me to go?”

Michael looks at him so fast the world spins for one nauseating second. Alex looks back at him steadily. Michael suddenly gets the sense that he could tell Alex to go and he would. He usually tells himself that he does things to make Alex go anyway, but that’s his own stupid coping mechanism. He has a lot easier time believing that if he tells him to go he can pass off Alex’s choices as his own desires. He doesn’t know if he can ask him to stay, despite dreaming of doing it for the past—however long alien detox is supposed to take. He begs him again and again like he long since forgot how to do.

“Do what you want.” He says instead, looking at the yellow ducky that’s bobbing there and wondering which of his asshole friends has such a twisted sense of humor. Alex shifts his weight and Michael tells himself a hundred stories about how this is better, but Alex just shifts his weight into a new position, “what are you doing?” Michael asks.

“My foot’s going to fall asleep,” Alex says, rearranging his legs.

“Oh,” Michael says lamely, “how much longer do I have to be in here for?”

“A bit,” Alex says. A long time then, Michael realizes if Alex isn’t quantifying it, “you want to start with Tolstoy?” He asks, producing a massive book from nowhere. His face is completely serious and Michael takes back every nice thing he ever thought about him, “or a movie?”

“Just drop your phone into the bathtub and put me out of my misery,” he pleads.

Alex gives him a look full of false sympathy and Michael flicks the water at him. Alex scoffs and rolls his eyes, a swift one two punch of nostalgia that sends a wave of longing over Michael.

“You can stay,” he mutters, finally arriving at the decision, “just don’t read the Tolstoy.”

Natsu/Erza one shot, spanking

~I haven’t finished the series so there are no spoilers past season three. If you’ve seen season three that’s good enough. If you like it, let me know! I’ve never posted anything i’ve written online so it would be cool to know someone actually read it. #spanking #discipline

“Where is Natsu?” Erza demanded. She hadn’t been to the guild hall for the past week, but had returned to maintain order after finding out that Makarov had left to speak with the Magic Council. 

“He went to take a job,” Mira answered. 

“After the Master specifically forbade us from taking any jobs until the inquiry with the Magic Council had been completed?”

“He said he’d be back before Gramps came back so he’d never find out,” Gray explained. 

Erza’s eyes flashed with fury. “Well I found out! He should know better by now than to disobey the Master’s orders. And I’m going to make sure that he and everyone else knows that the Master is to be obeyed whether he’s here or not.” 

“She’s scary!” Lucy yelped. 

Everyone sat in silence for the next hour, afraid to speak as Erza stood at the entrance of the guild hall waiting for Natsu. Finally he strode in, followed by Happy floating behind him. They were laughing about something, but the smiles fell from their faces when they saw Erza’s expression.

“Uh, hi Erza!” Natsu gave her an uneasy smile. She stared him down until he wilted under her gaze and looked away. 

“Where were you?”

Natsu looked around the guild hall helplessly, and saw all of the guild members watching him. “I, uh, we… We went to do a quick job. Got it done and came right back here.” 

“Didn’t the Master forbid you to take any jobs until the completion of the investigation with the Magic Council?”

“Ah, Gramps worries too much! The job went fine, and we didn’t destroy anything! Besides, he’s not here.” 

“I’m here, Natsu. You can’t ignore the Master’s orders whenever he leaves. You’re setting a bad example for the rest of the guild. Is there something special about you that puts you above the orders of the Master?” Natsu realized that she was very serious about this, and he was terrified. 

“No ma’am,” he squeaked. 

“I’m a good wizard, aren’t I?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I didn’t take a job, did I, Natsu?”

“No ma’am.” 

“Gray!” Gray jumped when Erza called his name.

“Y-yes ma’am!” He stammered.

“You didn’t take a job while the Master was away, did you?”

“No ma’am.”

“Did anyone here take a job when the Master forbade us?” Everyone shook their heads. 

Erza turned her attention back to Natsu. “So it seems that you’re the only one with the arrogance to think himself above the rules of the guild. You’re a strong wizard but you’re still young. You need to learn some obedience and humility, and I’m going to teach it to you. Come with me.” Erza turned and walked further into the building, ignoring the eyes of every guild member that were glued to her. She grabbed a wooden chair from one of the tables, dragged it to the middle of the room, and sat down.

Natsu was watching her, still standing frozen with fear by the door. Now he was confused. What was she going to do sitting down?

“Natsu, get over here NOW!” He had taken too long. Startled, he ran to where she was sitting until he was standing right in front of her chair. He was looking down at her, but he was the one who felt small. 

“If we’re going to have order in this guild, there needs to be consequences for misbehavior. It is unacceptable to defy the Master’s orders. You’re going to have to be punished.” Natsu’s eyes were wide with fear. He didn’t know what she had in mind, but he already didn’t like it. 

“Natsu, have you ever had a spanking before?” Erza asked. Gray laughed out loud, breaking the stifling stillness that had surrounded the hall. Erza shot a glare at Gray, and the tension returned. She returned her focus to Natsu.

Natsu wasn’t sure how to react. He shifted on his feet. She was kidding right? Did he dare respond as if she were? Something in her no-nonsense expression told him that this wasn’t a joke.

“N-n-no ma’am.”

“That explains a lot. Well, there’s a first time for everything, and this time it’s long overdue. Come lay across my lap.” He stared blankly at her. His face burned with fear and embarrassment. He didn’t dare look to see if everyone was still watching. He had a pretty good feeling that they were. 

“Now, Natsu. It’s only going to get worse the longer you put it off.” She gestured towards her legs. Reluctantly, he complied. He knelt on the ground beside her and laid across her lap like she had asked. He tilted forward, catching himself with his hands, and his legs lifted up. He wobbled on her lap, off balance. Erza put her hands down on his back to steady him and his feet rested awkwardly on the floor. 

“Now, Juvia, can you come here?” Erza requested, in a sweeter tone that she had been using with Natsu. “I could use your help.” Juvia, glancing around at the rest of the guild members, stepped forward. “This is going to be hard for Natsu. It’s going to hurt a lot, he’s going to feel embarrassed and angry and afraid, and he’s going to want to get out of this situation. If you see any flames, I want you to douse both of us in water. We don’t want this to be any harder than it has to be.” Juvia nodded awkwardly. “Thank you.”

“Natsu, did you hear that?” Erza asked.

“Hmm?” He hadn’t been listening. He’d been too busy weighing the pros and cons of fighting Erza and getting out of this situation. 

“If Juvia sees any flames from you, she’s been instructed to douse us both in water. I don’t want to get wet, and I don’t think I need to tell you that you don’t want to upset me while you’re in this position. Just take it like a good little boy and it’ll be over soon.”

Natsu’s eyes flashed red. “Who’re you callin’ little? You’re not that much older than me!” He kicked his legs, trying to get up, but Erza held him down. She was strong. 

Erza chuckled. “No, I suppose you’re right. I apologize. Take it like a big boy. Is that better?”

Natsu pouted. “Not really.” 

Erza raised her head to address the rest of the group. “I hope this will be a lesson to everyone that the rules of the guild will be followed or there will be consequences.” Without warning, she smacked Natsu’s butt and he leapt in the air, startled. He had expected more of an introduction. But that wasn’t so bad. He could take it.

…. “OW!” The first smack had obviously been more for emphasis than intended to really hurt him, because the second one was much worse. It actually stung. He didn’t like this at all. “Look, I get the point Erza, maybe I could-” She smacked his ass even harder. He yelped. “Okay, okay. I’ll be- OW!” Now he was starting to get mad. Who made her the- “OUCH!” boss of everyone around here, huh? He was just as strong as her, stronger even. “OW!” She had just started and it was already really starting to hurt. 

He felt himself fill with anger, and his hands erupted in flames. He wasn’t going to take this anymore. He started to try to get up, pushing his back up against Erza’s hand, when he was soaked with a wave of water. He screamed in fury, but his flames went out. He felt Erza’s hand roughly shove him back down onto her lap.

“I told you, Natsu. No fire.” Erza’s tone was calm, but it filled him with dread. “That didn’t take you very long. I expected more from you. Now we’re going to start again, and you’re going to control your temper.”

“Start again? No! I get the point. I was bad and I promise I’ll be good. Can’t we just be done?” he whined, lifting his head up and staring at the wall across from him. He tried not to look at any of the guild members. His face burned with embarrassment.  

Erza grabbed his chin and turned his face up to look at her. “We are not close to being done, Natsu. You have a big problem with obedience and we won’t be done until you learn how to behave. I can see you haven’t yet.” 

Natsu yanked his face out of her hand. “Fine! I can take it! It doesn’t even hurt!” Erza spanked him again, and he was sure that this time was the hardest. He yelped and started to squirm, but she held onto him tight and smacked him just as hard, over and over again, too fast for him to recover. Smacksmacksmacksmacksmack. The stinging started to feel like burning. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to be stoic, but she wouldn’t slow down or let up, and he started to whimper. How did it hurt this much already? It burned, and if he wasn’t immune to fire magic he would’ve been sure that that was what she was using. 

Smack! Natsu whimpered again. She spanked him ten, fifteen more times in quick succession. He kicked his feet wildly in an instinctive attempt to escape, but she was holding onto him too tightly. 

“Ahhhh!!” He yelled in pain and anger, but caught himself in time before he used his fire. He didn’t want to start over; he hoped she was almost done. Smack! Smack! Smack! “Please ma’am!” Smack! “P-please!” Smack! “Stop! I-I’ll be good just-” Smack! Smack! 

“Maaaa’aam!” She wouldn’t let up. No matter how hard he tried to wiggle away, her hand always made hard and stinging contact. Smack! Smack! Over and over and over again. He started to tear up. He didn’t think he could take much more of this. He was desperate for her to stop. Even in all the pain he still registered the eyes that were on him, and he felt totally humiliated. He didn’t want to cry in front of everyone but he couldn’t help it. It hurt so much, and he felt so helpless. “P-please!!” Erza kept spanking him, seemingly oblivious to his tearful begging. 

Smack! Smack! Smack! He was full on crying now, sobbing and squirming. He wished more than anything that he hadn’t gone on that dumb job, and then this wouldn’t be happening to him. Erza was so fierce. She didn’t even seem tired. She kept up the same unrelenting fast pace, spanking him like she never wanted him to forget this moment. Well, he wouldn’t. 

Erza finally seemed to be slowing down, but she was hitting with just as much force. He winced before each blow, still crying. With horror, he realized that despite the pain, he was hard. But he wasn’t turned on at all! He hated every minute of this! He felt like his body was betraying him. Smack! “OW! M-m-m-ma’am. P-please” Smack! He hoped she didn’t notice his dick pressing against her leg. He tried to move his hand under his body to hide it.

“It’s okay, Natsu. It’s perfectly normal.” He froze with his hand under his body, hoping she didn’t mean what he thought she meant. “There’s a lot of blood flow to the area right now, your heart is beating fast, and you’re experiencing a lot of emotions. It’s a natural reaction.” He whimpered in humiliation and hung his head. His face was burning as much as his butt, and he wanted more than anything to sink into the floor. 

In his complete humiliation, he didn’t immediately realize that Erza had stopped spanking him. She put her hand gently on his butt and he winced, but she was only gently rubbing it while he continued to cry. “Shh, it’s okay Natsu. You did a great job.” 

“I’m s-sorry” he sobbed. “I’ll b-be g-good now.”

“I know, I know. Shhh.” He cried in her lap for a few minutes while she rubbed his butt soothingly. Finally he stopped crying, and sniffling and wiping his tears, he got up from her lap. He tried to avoid eye contact with anyone, but accidentally looked at Mira, who looked very sympathetic. He slunk to the nearest table and sat down, but his butt stung. He yelped and leapt in the air, and decided he would have to just stand for awhile. He had definitely learned his lesson: he wouldn’t mess with Erza again. 

The Bluff || Part 14 || Mitch Rapp

Author: wittystiles

Word Count: 2k+

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Warnings: Cursing (I think, idr).

Authors Note: It’s been 2 months since I last wrote anything for this fic. It’s been months since I have had the time or energy or mental capacity to do any writing. And it shows. This chapter is a little different in it’s writing style than the last chapters, not too noticeable, but a little. I really hope you like it, and I would genuinely love it if you decided to give me some feedback. (-:

The black dodge charger slowed as it approached the curb, its driver thankful for the convenient space in front of the apartment building his GPS had led him to. He threw the car into park and turned the radio down, looking over the brownstone with wonder. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting on the drive over but this certainly wasn’t it. The building looked like it was originally a single family home that had been refurbished to accommodate multiple renters. It looked to be out of (Y/N)’s means. He wasn’t sure the income of a surgical nurse, but he certainly underestimated it, according to her home. Or, perhaps it was severely faulted, and she got it at a steal.

   Concluding that the latter was the reason she was inhabiting this particular place, he turned off the air conditioner and then the car. A man with a small dog passed by his car and he waited briefly for the man to be far enough down the street that he wouldn’t appear to be a threat before exiting his vehicle. The door slammed of its own accord. He shoved the keys into the right pocket of his black leather jacket and approached the brownstone he’d spent entirely too long staring at from the confines of his car. He paused at the staircase leading up to the door, head on a swivel to make sure that no one was watching or lurking in the shadows. (Y/N)’s unwanted visitors had already been long gone but he felt he could never be too cautious in his line of work.

   Climbing the steps two at a time he reached the door and tugged at the handle. When it didn’t give his attention found the call box on the wall to his left. He eyed the names on it, finding the one that seemed the most likely to open (and that wasn’t (Y/N)’s). He pressed the buzzer a few times, waiting impatiently for a response. An old and raspy voice came crackly through the speaker of the call box. “Who is this?” The voice inquired. He cleared his throat, making it sound much more friendly than he usually wanted it to.

   “Hi! I’m so sorry to bother you,” Mitch spoke into the microphone of the speaker box, finger pressed against the button corresponding to the voice who’d asked of him. “I locked myself out on accident and my girlfriend isn’t answering her phone. Would you please buzz me in?”

   There was no answer on the other end but he heard an electric buzz and quickly tried the door again, smirking a little when it opened. He wondered how often people got into shitty situations because they were far too trusting of strangers. Mitch consulted the sticky note in his pocket for the apartment number and realized he simply needed to look for the broken door and he’d know which was (Y/N)’s. The only apartment on the first floor looked unscathed, so he once again took the stairs two at a time, reaching the landing of the second floor easily.

   “Bingo,” Mitch said to no one, spotting the winning door. His tongue darted out and carded over his lips, wetting them and giving him a pause to get his thoughts together. His feet carried him to the door and he once more hesitated outside of it. “(Y/N)?” He whispered, pressing the pads of the first three fingers on his left hand against the wood. When no response came he figured it safe to proceed further into the apartment than the threshold.

   The door creaked in protest and his spine tensed. He gave a look around to make sure there wasn’t a threat looming in the small living room, finding only a disaster of all of her belongings. He looked down at the floor and picked a picture up that he’d accidentally been standing upon. An aged cocker spaniel sitting in a different living room was all that was depicted in the photograph. An old pet, he assumed. He dropped it back to the ground and began carefully walking through the room and deeper into the apartment. Nothing, it appeared, was off limits to the bastards who had broken into (Y/N)’s dwelling.

   He checked the bathroom, finding it devastated as well, and sighed. They’d even yanked all of the toilet paper off of the roll and left it in a pile on the tiled floors. “Pricks,” Mitch scoffed, closing the door. He turned to the only other door in the hallway and hesitated. He had seen (Y/N) return home and hadn’t seen her leave. He became suddenly aware that he was about to see her once more, probably distressed, and in her own home. Her own room. His stomach once again knotted uncomfortably. His training had prepared him to go blindly into the most dangerous of situations, to accept bullets and knives to his skin without a flinch. As the assassin stood in front of the bedroom door of his charge he realized that none of that training was available to aid him now.

   Mitch inhaled deeply and reached for the door handle, watching it spin and retreat from him before he could manage a hold on it. The door revealed a stunned (Y/N), who let out a scream so blood-curdling it made his own heart want to leap in his chest. If his stomach hadn’t been knotting before he guaranteed it was now.  He didn’t think a person was capable of showing so many facial expressions in the span of what was possibly only four or so seconds. His brain barely had time to register all of them but recognized the most prominent. She had looked so frightened and helpless in that brief moment of shock that his natural protective instincts got the better of him.

   Mitch took a step forward, hands coming up to clasp (Y/N)’s biceps. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he said in a voice that could only be considered comforting. “It’s just me, (Y/N).” He could see the fear subsiding within her eyes.

   “What the fuck are you doing here?” She asked, voice sounding a little shaky to Mitch’s concerned ears. His thumbs began doing what felt natural, working in soft circles on the skin of her arm. Staring at her blankly, he found himself at a loss for an answer, eyes wide and tongue-tied. His throat felt nearly dry.

   “I came to check on you and I saw your front door kicked in,” he managed, letting her withdraw her biceps from his grasp. He kept his hands at the ready should she wobble on her feet. “Are you alright?”

   Her shoulders shrugged, going high enough that they nearly touched her ears. Mitch noticed for the first time that her lobes were pierced, small diamond studs tucked securely inside. He wondered if she’d put them in since she’d gotten home or if they’d been in place in Paris. “I’m fine. Why are you checking up on me? You said we were done in Paris, remember?” She sounded angrier than Mitch had anticipated. Was he the bad guy, now? How had that transpired?

   He let his guard down, hands stuffed into his pockets before the action registered to his brain. Why was he checking on her? He chastised himself mentally for not preparing himself on the drive over; too distracted by the GPS and trying not to grit his teeth in anger. His knuckles were still stiff from the severity of the grip he had had on the steering wheel.

   “I was mistaken. Turns out I am not done with you and you’re still technically my responsibility,” his voice betrayed him. He was trying for indifference leaning towards bitterness, however, what came out was moderate relief. Her expression softened. She withdrew from him more, stepping around him on a path away from her bedroom.

   “C’mon,” she called over her shoulder, stepping around the mess scattered about the floor on bare feet. “Let’s see if I have any drinks in the kitchen, I sure need one.”

***

   Three hours later and (Y/N) was tucked into bed with an empty bottle of wine on her nightstand and a belly full of the snacks she’d convinced Mitch to run out and get her. He sat at the foot of her bed on an armchair he’d dragged in from the living room, thankful that the stuffing was still mostly inside of it. She slept soundlessly, not tossing and turning either. He was thankful that the alcohol had subdued her enough to not have a fitful rest. He’d have comforted her, sure, but that was a drama he was glad to avoid.

   He had managed to tuck his legs underneath himself, situated comfortably enough with his elbow propped on the arm of the chair. The blanket that (Y/N) had drunkenly insisted he take was covering his lap and occasionally he found himself appreciating it. Her apartment was colder than he thought convenient for her electric bill. He had caught himself gnawing on the nail of his thumb earlier and was actively trying to keep himself from doing it again, teeth worrying on his bottom lip instead. Between the moment he’d received the phone call at the coffee shop until now, Mitch’s mind had not had a chance to slow down and deconstruct everything calmly and calculatedly as he liked.

   His mind thought back to the video, to the way his heart had leaped into his throat at the first sign of the intruders despite the knowledge that (Y/N) wasn’t in her home. To the worry within which he was drowned at the thought of her being apprehended by an accomplice outside of her apartment building after she’d left the camera's frame. He was familiar with anxiety, to panic. He’d suffered more than enough of it while he was in the first handful of months following the beach incident wherein he’d lost Katrina. He had learned how to control it, through channeling his emotions straight into training. He’d, for the most part, returned to his mellow self. That is until (Y/N) burst onto the scene and undid every single thread holding himself together. He would never admit out loud that she was all he’d found himself caring about since that fateful night in Paris a month or so prior.

   He began picking at the armrest with the hand that wasn’t propping his head up, his blunt nails making a dull scratching sound on the fabric. The first time he’d seen (Y/N) vulnerable, scared and inebriated he had none nothing about her. She was just an innocent victim that he needed to keep safe. Now? Now she lay before him as someone who’d changed everything he’d established for himself. Who’d snuck into his brain and gotten him to care.

   Mitch tasted blood on his tongue and realized he’d split his lip open from pulling at it repeatedly with his teeth. He wondered if (Y/N) would kiss him if she noticed it, she had a tendency to be gentle and affectionate when she saw he hurt. Was this the same? A voice in the back of his head told him he just wanted to be kissed.

   Deciding he couldn’t sit and think about (Y/N) any longer, Mitch forced his body from the chair. His knees cracked with relief at being stretched. He took the blanket that had fallen to the floor and draped it over (Y/N)’s sleeping form, making sure she didn’t stir before walking out of the bedroom. He let out a loud huff after shutting her door, pushing his shaggy hair away from his forehead. The only thing he could think to do was begin cleaning. He made his way through the apartment to the kitchen, finding a trash bag in the cabinet beneath the sink.

   Setting off to the living room, he found that he was overwhelmed with where to begin. There was something on every inch of the floor, stuffing, and glass littered everywhere. He set the bag down on the remains of the couch, setting about the daunting task of cleaning (Y/N)’s apartment. Hoping that when she woke he would be finished and she would find some ease in her heart from the break-in. Hoping that she would maybe even smile at him.

~~

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To Build a Home ch. 6

AO3

Start from the beginning

Four months earlier…

There was something so interesting, Clarke had found, about the fragility of human life. Not just in terms of death, though that was a large part of it,… but in the instability of a mind. In the way that if enough pressure was put onto it, it would splinter like an old rotted tree branch. Sometimes it didn’t even take a buildup. It only required one seemingly innocuous moment in time to fracture in disarray and then suddenly… suddenly it was all over. The human consciousness couldn’t handle it. And it would collapse into itself and lay, festering in the wounds made from the shards of the once perfectly proficient mind.

The fragility didn’t only expand to human consciousness… Oh no, the universe wouldn’t allow life to be so “easy”. Sometimes the foundation of a family a person once believed to be so solid would crumble beneath them – leaving them in the desolate loneliness of their own brittle mind.

Clarke had become all too familiar with these facts. Ones she would not wish upon even her worst enemy… But it happened to her. And she had to find a way to live with it.

If her state could even be considered “living” at all.

She sat in the plush chair of her therapist’s office, looking down silently upon her motionless hands in her lap. Her hair was thrown carelessly into a ponytail and the bags under her eyes gave way to the knowledge of the many nights she spent tossing and turning, incapable of finding sleep. It had been the same look she donned for many months now, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The door clicked open, signifying the arrival of her therapist Emily. Clarke made no move to acknowledge her.

The middle-aged woman moved across to sit in front of her and greeted her the same way she did every time they had a meeting, “Hello Clarke, how are we feeling this afternoon?”

Clarke was sure that Emily was a nice woman, really. But given that she had to endure a full hour of small talk with her every week, she learned that the cheeriness in her voice was quite false. It made her think that maybe it was the therapists that needed therapy after all.

“The same,” Clarke replied quietly, continuing to gaze down at her hands.

Emily cleared her throat and scribbled on her paper. Clarke hated that goddamned paper.

“It was your birthday a few days ago right? Did you do anything special?”

Indeed, it had been her birthday. Her seventeenth to be exact. But considering she could hardly find it in herself to smile anymore, she didn’t celebrate it.  Unless the hastily thrown together cake her mother had made from a box counted.

“No.”

“That’s alright, celebrating isn’t for everybody.”

Clarke’s heart seemed to seize in her chest. Her dad loved celebrating birthdays. Had loved celebrating birthdays. She bit her cheek to keep from revealing any emotion, drawing blood. The metallic taste brought her back to reality.

It had been three months. Shouldn’t she be okay by now?

“It’s okay Clarke. It’s okay to not be okay…” Emily’s voice was soft. Sympathetic.

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want her sympathy.

There was more scribbling, and then, “How has your sleep been? Are you still having nightmares?”

She swallowed thickly, “Yes.” Too many.

“And the panic attacks… Have you had one since we last met?”

Besides school, she hadn’t really been out of the house. Less opportunity to run into things that would trigger her anxiety.

“No.”

“Good,” Emily sighed, “I know that you don’t want to be here Clarke. Believe me, I do. But you need to know that it’s for your own health. And that in order for you to get better… You have to want to.”

Clarke made no move to answer, just continued to stare blankly down at her lap. As cliché as it was, she wasn’t entirely sure that there was a reason to get better. Her life just seemed so… desolate… now. Even when she was surrounded by people she still felt utterly alone.

“Clarke. Do you want to get better?”

She did look up then, into the inquisitive eyes of her therapist. She wanted to give Emily the answer that she knew she wanted, but her mind pulled her back to that night. The terror. The helplessness. The vision of her father collapsing lifeless right in front of her… She flinched and looked away from Emily, fighting to display the devastation she felt.

But when Clarke replied, her voice cracked. “I don’t know.”

+++

Present Day…

Clarke was never particularly one for dressing up. Whether it be formal wear or costumes for parties, she had always found it to be a bit trivial. There didn’t seem to be a point in parading around in a fancy get-up when she knew that she would really rather be in her normal clothes. She never wanted to portray herself as something she knew she wasn’t. Not to mention the fact that she was always much too busy anyway. School work had the better portion of her attention.

Yet, looking into the mirror hanging on the back of Raven’s bathroom door, Clarke had to admit that it was fascinating… To look upon herself and not see what she normally saw.

It was about an hour or so before the party, and the two girls were getting ready together. Raven had done an amazing job of twisting Clarke’s blonde curls into an intricate updo of loose braids. Though her makeup was still natural, it was a bit more than she was used to. Golden eyeshadow covered her lids, making her look regal and elegant. She donned a draped, flowy white dress synched at the waist by a golden rope belt, and metal ringlets circled her biceps.

The normal teenage Clarke didn’t stand before her… but a regal Greek goddess. One who certainly held more beauty than she thought she had the ability to.

There was a knock on the door then, startling Clarke from her thoughts.

“You can come in,” she called to the person on the other side – whom of which she was certain was just Raven checking on her.

As the door began to swing open, Raven was saying, “Did the dress fit you -,” upon seeing Clarke, her eye’s widened, “Chica! Daaaamn, that looks amazing on you!”

Clarke flushed slightly, “Thanks.”

The door pushed open further as Raven entered the bathroom. She was dressed as a 1920’s flapper. Complete with the short chin length wig, bedazzled headband, and tasseled dress.  

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Clarke commented as Raven spun in a little circle to show off her costume.

“Girl, we look hot. I know you don’t want to draw too much attention but no way that’ll be happening. Not with the way your boobs and legs are shown off in that dress.”

Clarke glanced again at herself in the mirror. It was true, the slit in the dress went up mid-thigh, showing off quite a bit of leg. And the neck line… well, it was a bit lower than she would normally wear.

Clarke shrugged at her friend, “I guess it’s time for me to live a little and have fun.”

Raven snorted, “You? Have fun?”

She crossed her arms, “I can have fun.”

Raven laughed as she took Clarke’s arm in her hand and began pulling her out of the bathroom. “We’ll see about that,” she said.

+++

Even from where they had parked, the music could be heard. The field was crowded with cars and random costumed people heading in the direction of the barn. Clarke hadn’t even been aware that there were a large enough number of people in Ark to allow for there to be so many people attending the party.

“Drinking game idea,” Raven said to her as they made their way towards the flashing lights and the bumping music, “Take a shot every time you see a girl dressed as Harley Quinn.”

Clarke laughed, “We’d be dead by the end of the night.”

When they entered through the doors of the barn, Clarke was surprised to see the number of teenagers that had managed to cram themselves into it. Though it was a spacious structure, it was teeming with more life than it probably had ever seen before. The music was three times as loud as it had been by the car, a DJ set up in the corner. Halloween decorations were strewn haphazardly on the walls and ceiling, and there were orange spot lights dancing all over the room. The crowds of people were dancing on each other to the music, paying no attention to anybody around them.

Clarke found it funny how similar it seemed to a club. Whoever put this party on, must have a lot of money to waste.

“Jasper and Monty are supposed to meet us here,” Raven yelled over the music. Again, she took her arm and tugged her into one of the more secluded corners where one of the garbage cans stood. Along the same wall was a table full of Halloween themed snacks and a punch bowl that had a high probability of being spiked. A keg sat on the opposite end of the table.

Raven jerked her head toward the keg, “I’m gonna get us a drink really quick. Be right back.” And before Clarke could protest, she sauntered off.

Clarke took in her surroundings. Many of the guys didn’t have costumes on, but the girls were in ‘sexy’ versions of every sort. Sexy nurse, sexy cop, even sexy Freddy Kruger. There were at least ten different Harley Quinns from the small portion of people that she could actually make out in the dimmed light. The boys who did dress up, well, they sported costumes of tw

o different sorts. They were either horror movie characters or dressed as absurdly large food. She saw a hotdog, a banana, a taco… the list went on.

It was after a moment that she spotted Bellamy. He was in the opposite corner of the room, wearing (unsurprisingly) no costume and talking to a slutty nurse version of Roma. Clarke rolled her eyes as she saw that Roma’s hand rest on Bellamy’s chest and her other tugged at the hem of his white t-shirt. The girl hadn’t an ounce of decency.  Bellamy leaned in and whispered something into Roma’s ear, who Clarke saw giggle in return.

Momentarily, her mind took her back to school when she had witnessed the altercation between Bellamy and the mysterious man. Any remnants of his anger were no longer visible, the only emotion shown on his face being his cocky and flirtatious demeanor. How was it that a single boy could hold so much depth? To Clarke, Bellamy only grew more curious.

She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and turned her gaze back toward the dancing teens in the center. It was best to leave the mystery that was Bellamy Blake unpondered.

Raven returned a second later with two plastic cups of beer, “Here ya go, chica.”

Clarke hesitated, fully aware that she had never been drunk before. She had never had the time or energy to attend any of the snobby parties that her fellow classmates from her private school had ever put on.

Raven cocked an eyebrow, “You can have ‘fun’, huh?” she teased.

Clarke scrunched her eyebrows together determinedly. Though it was a daunting prospect to her, she felt she needed prove to herself that she was not the same prudish and innocent young girl that her mother was so set on believing she was. The girl that she was taught to be.

“Gimme.” She grabbed the cup from Raven’s hand and then threw her head back and downed the contents. She made a face, allowing the bitter taste to sizzle down her throat. When she glanced at her friend, there was an astonished look on her face.

Raven laughed, “Well damn, consider me proven wrong.” She took a swig from her cup and made a disgusted expression, “Never was a fan of beer.”

Clarke was about to reply when she noticed two very familiar figures advancing toward them. “Jasper and Monty!” she said, grabbing hold of Raven’s wrist and tugging her along with her as she made her way to meet her friends.

“What are you even supposed to be?” she questioned an obviously high Jasper. He wore a onesie with the American flag printed on it and a sleeping mask pushed up into his disheveled hair.

He pulled the sleeping mask over his eyes, “I’m the American Dream. Get it?” A bubble of laughter escaped Clarke as she leaned in to give him a hug.

“And you?” she said after doing the same to Monty. He wore an old revolutionary style outfit with a white wig. “George Washington?”

Monty gave her a sheepish look, “Jasper wanted us to match.”

There was a moment of sudden inexplicable giddiness that built in her throat and she couldn’t tamp down on the giggle that burst from her. She wasn’t sure if it was the cup of beer she had just downed catching up to her or if she was just happy to see her friends, but she decided she liked it. Tonight was the night that she was going to let herself forget her past. And she wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way.

For too long she had allowed her self to wallow in her own self-pity. It wasn’t going to be the case any longer.

After grabbing a snack from the table and a cup of punch (it was, indeed, spiked), Raven pulled her into the crowd of dancing bodies. She allowed herself to get lost to the beat of the music, dancing with Raven and the boys in ways she had never danced before. Her bones sung with the drunken bliss that was beginning to sweep its way through her body.

When her skin was sticky with sweat, and her hair had fallen a bit, loose strands hanging in her face, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning she was met with the familiar face of Octavia, dressed as a cat nonetheless. Clarke launched herself at the girl with a hug, a giggle escaping her. She wasn’t sure what caused her to do it, but she was sure that it was right.

Octavia stumbled slightly, caught off guard by the sudden bombardment. But she laughed, “Hey Clarke, I see you’ve had yourself a drink.”

A giggle escaped Clarke once more as she pulled back, “Is it that obvious already?”

Raven leaned in then, yelling over the music. “She’s never been drunk before. She’s a liiiight weight.” Clarke elbowed her at that, though she knew it was quite obviously true.

“Just wait until I get her to smoke,” chimed in Jasper, pausing in his weird jig. Clarke rolled her eyes and shooed him away. She wasn’t too drunk already not to know where a line was drawn.

The girls walked out of the crowd of dancing teens so that they could talk without being in the way of everybody.

“This is Raven by the way,” Clarke said loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I know,” Octavia replied, “I’ve seen her around.” Then she looked at Raven who offered her a smile.

“Why don’t you come dance with us!” Raven offered.

“Absolutely.”

“You guys go ahead,” said Clarke, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” She had been ignoring the urge ever since they had been dancing, remembering the myth of “breaking the seal”. But there was no possible way for her to hold it any longer… even if that meant she might have had to go to the out-house located just outside of the barn.

Raven shrugged and pulled Octavia with her toward the dance floor.

Outside of the barn there were still people milling about, drinking and laughing. She even passed a couple that was all but actually having sex with each other against the wooden wall of the barn. She laughed at them as she continued to make her way toward the latrine in the dark. It had to be around 10:30 already, the only light source being the flashing lights from inside the barn and the faint flicker of the lightbulb lit above the outhouse.

As she waited for the girl to finish and exit, she felt a new presence behind her.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” She knew that deep voice. Loathed the owner of that deep voice. She turned around and crossed her arms as she faced Bellamy, a smirk settled on his face.

“Having fun,” she stated simply. In the faint light he looked almost like a fallen angel, the shadows playing tricks with his handsome features.

She felt her face redden as his gaze swept over her body. Her loosened updo, the low plunge of her neckline, the golden rings that circled her arms, the exposed skin of her leg. She shifted her weight and crossed her arms self-consciously.

“A goddess,” he observed, “Athena maybe? Goddess of wisdom and war? Though it would be an inaccurate depiction…”

Clarke harrumphed, she wasn’t drunk enough to be dealing with him yet. “And what are you?” She said, eyeing his none-costume. “An asshole?”

He snorted, “Cute.”

She gave him an innocent smile. “I try.”

He stepped forward then, leaning his head next to her ear. “Play nice with my sister. I know she invited you here. Do anything to hurt her and we’ll have a problem.”

Anger flashed through her. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “That’s what you came up to me for? To threaten me? You know I witnessed you and your gang, right? Threaten me and there is nothing that’ll stop me from going to the police. I promise you that, Blake.”

Instead of his eye’s flickering with the anger that she thought they would have, he laughed. “Gang? Is that what you think I’m a part of?”

Her fists clenched at her sides, “I don’t know what you’re a part of. But I know it’s not legal.”

Bellamy scoffed, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know enough.”

He examined her for a silent moment, seemingly unaware of what to make of her. Clarke stopped herself from fidgeting under the scrutiny of his gaze.

He cocked his head slightly. “You’re an interesting girl, Clarke Griffin.” And then he slowly backed up, keeping eye contact until he finally turned around and retreated into the crowded barn.

There had been far too many moments, in Clarke’s opinion, where she was left watching him leave.

+++

Half an hour and another beer or two later, Clarke was good and truly drunk. Laughing senselessly and gossiping with her friends and Octavia. Dancing and dancing until her feet felt like they would fall off. She felt more alive than she had ever had before. Gone was the fragile girl she had been only a few short months ago. Gone were the thoughts of her father. Of that one horrific night where everything went wrong. Gone was her constant overbearing mind, filling her with every possible thing that could ever go awry. All that was left was the weightless drunken bliss that sung through her bones and caused her to laugh at every little thing no matter if it was funny or not.

And she loved it.

Clarke, Raven, and Octavia had been attempting a game of darts when she decided that she should probably take a break. The logical part of her knew that she would be feeling her decision to drink in the morning and that she should probably drink as much water as she could. So she grabbed a water bottle and pushed her way through the crowded space toward the crisp fall night, bumping into a few people as she did so.

When she was relaxing in the grass gazing at the unlit forest that surrounded the barn, swaying happily to the beat of the music with a drunken smile plastered across her face, an unfamiliar boy approached her. His disheveled blonde hair glimmered in the moonlight as he paused before her, looking down with a soft smile. Something about him seemed out of place. Like he was a bit too old to be at a high school party. Too gruff around the edges. But in her state, Clarke only cocked her head at him and smiled.

“Hey,” he said casually, sitting down beside her in the grass.

She giggled at his lack of costume, though she wasn’t sure why it was so funny to her. “You know this is a costume party, right?” she slurred giddily, “Boys are so silly not wearing costumes to a costume party. You know Bellamy wasn’t wearing a costume? He’s silly too. Wait… You probably don’t know who Bellamy is. Who are you by the way?” The words tumbled out despite Clarke not giving any consent. She would have been more concerned that she was blabbering mindlessly to a stranger had she not been in her current state. Though she did find herself slightly confused at why she mentioned Bellamy.

The boy laughed. “I’m Dax,” he said, and then looked down at his hands sheepishly, “I’ve, uh, been kinda working up the courage to talk to you all night.” He looked up at her then, a half smile on his face.

She bit her lip to stop herself from giggling again. “Me?” She was almost positive she had never seen this boy before, but she couldn’t help but feel a little flattered.

He smiled crookedly, “Yeah you. I saw you dancing with your friends and I thought you looked really pretty in your costume.”

She screwed her face up comically, “But you don’t even know me.”

“I’d like to,” Dax said with a shrug.

Clarke pursed her lips in feigned thought. He was relatively attractive… and if tonight was the night of letting loose, then she might as well allow herself to give the guy a chance.

“I’m Clarke,” she said. And when she smiled, it felt genuine.

Dax leaned in slightly, “Hi Clarke. Nice to meet you.”

She swayed toward him drunkenly, “Nice to meet you too.”

After twenty minutes of chatting and unabashed flirting, he offered to grab her another drink. Stuffing down the part of her that protested, she accepted – the entire time reminding herself that it was her night to have fun. She had never felt so relaxed as she did with alcohol in her system then… So why should she deny the feeling of freedom that another drink would allow her to have? She would just deal with the repercussions in the morning.

When he returned, he offered one of the two plastic cups he was holding to her. He laughed when she threw her head back and gulped half of it down, accepting the burn. Looking up at him, her face split into a smile.

He offered his hand to her, chuckling to himself, “Let’s go somewhere else,” he said quietly, “somewhere private.”

Private. Clarke wasn’t too drunk to not know what offer he was laying down. She was seventeen after all, and even though she had never been involved in a hook-up, she wasn’t a virgin. Maybe he thought she was a naïve young girl, maybe this whole thing was a ruse to get into her pants, but quite frankly, Clarke couldn’t find it in herself to care. He had been charming and sweet enough. He made her laugh – though it wasn’t hard to as she found she was the giggly drunk – and asked her sincere questions.  

A night of fun was what she came here for. So a night of fun was what she was going to get.

Maybe it was her intoxicated state, or maybe it was her helpless yearn for a release from the hell she had wrapped herself up in from the beginning of that night eight months ago, but she placed her hand in his. She’d be back before Raven or Octavia even noticed her absence.

When Dax waggled his eyebrows and pulled her up, she laughed, stumbling against him.

As she followed behind him into the brush of the surrounding woods, something within her began to feel… different. Not right. It was as if a veil had settled itself over her mind and she was viewing her actions as a separate being. Her mind began to go a little hazy and her legs tripped up over nothing. Dax caught her and swung her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. She rubbed a hand up his muscled arm, smiling softly. He was stronger than he looked. It made her laugh.

She enjoyed the feeling of the night air blowing against her feet, so she swung them back and forth feeling the air sweep against the bottoms. Where had her shoes gone? She didn’t remember taking them off. She must have gotten rid of them because of the blisters they had been giving her while she was dancing with her friends.

She couldn’t quite make out Dax’s face, her vision going fuzzy around the corners. Giggling, she blinked a few times and reached up and poked him to be sure that he was actually there. His only reply was a grunt. She was momentarily confused.

“Where are we going?” she asked, continuing to sway her feet. His lack of reply concerned her. The friendly nature seemed to be gone from him, and he only looked straight ahead continuing to move through the trees. The light of the party grew faint in the distance.

She squirmed in his arms, nervously. “I can walk Dax. You can put me down now,” she said. Or at least tried to - her words weren’t quite coming out the proper way anymore. And her vision was growing even more blurry. Fear began to creep its way up her throat, and she stopped kicking her legs.

“Shut up,” he hissed at her. The giddy happiness was fading from her now, replaced by a solid lump of dread in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t see much anymore, and her whole body felt tired – as if she had just run a marathon. She tried to thrash in his arms but she couldn’t move, it was as if all the energy that she had previously had drained from her completely.

“Dax…” she attempted, but it was barely audible. She lolled her head to the side in an attempt to gather her baring’s.

Suddenly they entered a clearing and she could make out a new man’s voice. Dax tossed her onto the ground where she landed on her knees. She made a weak attempt at lifting herself to stand, but her body ached and she collapsed back down.

“No.” Clarke whispered. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying no to, but she repeated it. Again and again, quietly to herself.

“Good job Dax,” she heard the new voice say, “the bitch deserves this.”

She could taste bile in her mouth. What had she even done? She was new to Ark… What had she done to deserve this? She trembled as she curled in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them. Her body felt as though it was draining itself of its own energy. Her senses waning. Darkness creeping into her mind, pulling her toward it. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing for the men to leave. For the nightmare to end.

A hand ripped at her hair and her head was yanked back, forcing her to look in the face of the new man. She was only able to make out a vaguely familiar face – though she was unsure where she knew him from. The haze over her mind caused her head to loll against the man’s hand. She was losing her bearings and she had to fight to keep her eyes open.

“She’s a pretty one, you have to admit,” she could hear the deep voice rumble, “Too bad we have to teach her the consequences of involving herself in things she doesn’t understand.”

A cluck, “Maybe we can have our fun with her when she’s passed out,” she heard Dax reply with a dry laugh. Her stomach lurched, but nothing came up.

“You slipped her the sedative?” came the rumbling reply.

“Yes.”

She was thrown to her side suddenly, her aching body unable to catch herself as she collapsed against the dirt. She whimpered as she felt a pressure on her back, a body pressed flush against her.

“No!” she managed weakly.

How could this be happening again?

She was trapped, the body on top of her feeling like a million tons. The skirts of her dress twisted and ripped around her legs tying her down, unable to move. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t see. She could hardly feel. Her breath began to slow, and she knew she was fading. Being swallowed by the darkness. Every part of her willed her to give in and fall under. Deep under. Her mind was pulling her down, down, down.

And just as she felt herself give in… there was a shout. The release of the body weight from her back. The sound of flesh hitting flesh. And then there was nothing.

+++

She awoke briefly, vaguely aware of her presence in the back seat of a truck that she was unfamiliar with. She was leaned against the car door, wrapped in something warm. In the window across from her, she could see the night sky zooming past. There was the faint sound of music, and two voices whispering to each other quietly.

“It’s all my fault,” a familiar female voice said miserably.

“Don’t say that. It is not,” a deep male voice replied, “If anybody’s, it’s mine.”

Clarke attempted to lift herself up, but failed, too weak to even move.

“We can’t take her to her house, Bell,” said the female voice.

“Then where are we supposed to take her?”

“She has to come back with us.”

“She can’t,” The male voice growled.

“Yes,” the female voice hissed back, “she can.”

“But Jaqueline –“

“Jackie doesn’t give a shit what we do and you know it.”

A sigh, “Fine! Fine.”

There’s a rustling and Clarke feels the warmth adjust around her. Her consciousness flickered, threatening to pull her back into to sleep.

“I can’t believe he’d would do something like this.”

“He’s desperate, O.”

“I’m just glad I saw Dax head towards the woods with her.”

There was a long pause, and then, “Me too.”

It quieted between them, the soft music tinkling through the car. Clarke’s lids grew heavy again, and the world around her faded once more.

    The first time you see her, you're both in school. She's staring blankly at a wall. You're not sure if she's anxious or just thinking, hard. She's fiddling with her hands. You notice her fingers are taped, nails cut short.

    Her friend comes and pokes her cheek. She seems to snap back to reality, eyes catching focus. She notices you were observing her. You look at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

    When you look up, she's talking to her friend, smiling. The smile doesn't reach her eyes.

    The next time you see her, she's studying for a test. She's sitting on the floor with a book propped on her knees. She somehow knows you're staring at her and looks up.

    You make yourself go faster and flee the corridor.

    You meet her at a party. She's drinking too much, too quickly. You watch her talk to different people, joke and laugh with them. You also notice that in the rare moments when she's alone, she drifts off, smile gone from her face.

    You came here with your own group of friends. Everyone but you seems to know her, and soon, you get introduced.

    „Nyx,” she says with a curious smile. Her cheeks are pink, her pupils blown wide. You're not sure she'll remember this night. You swap Snapchat ids and add each other to friends on Facebook.

    Later that night, you see her curled on a soft armchair with a blanket thrown across her shoulders. You want to check if she's okay. You don't.

    After that, you two start talking in school.

    Nyx likes comic books, you learn. She jokes that despite having a few friends, she has nobody to go see the newest Marvel movie with. You ask if she wants to go with you and your friends. She smiles and tells you she doesn't want to be a problem.

    You tell her about your garden – your mom makes excellent wine. Nyx laughs and says she needs to try it sometime. She likes sweet wine, especially if it's strong. The next day you receive a message from her, a picture of the ugliest cactus you have ever seen. You tell her it's pretty. She laughs, she knows it's not.

    You end up going together to two more parties.

    The first one is great.

    You get so drunk you start dancing. Soon, Nyx is dragging you down from the kitchen table, laughing. She's wasted, too. She snorts when she's drunk.

    You end up on a couch, with her feet on your lap. You're sipping cheap champagne and laughing at her stories, unaware of the world around you.

    You don't remember what happens after that. Friends tell you that Nyx fell asleep cuddled up to you and you didn't want to wake her up, and that you two looked cute together. You try not to think about that last bit.

    The second party is not so great.

    Nyx is incredibly stressed, you can tell by the rate at which she's emptying wine bottles. You don't stop her. Instead, you drink less than usual and keep an eye on her. It's going to be bad.

    When you get back from the toilet, she's gone. Nobody saw her leaving. You put on your coat and go out. There is a lake nearby, and a small forest.

    You find her in a forest. She's sitting on a tree branch, looking at the starry sky. You call her name and she sighs.

    “People are too much sometimes, you know?” she asks. Yeah, you know.

    You sit under the tree and wait for her to come down. She doesn't. You're glad you both had your coats on. You're even more glad it's still autumn.

    You don't talk about what happened at that party.

    Nyx stops wearing T-shirts, swaps them for loose hoodies and long-sleeved sweaters. She looks even smaller now. Like she's hiding from people without actually hiding.

    You don't ask. You're sure she wouldn't tell you.

    As time passes, Nyx stops talking to her friends.

    You only ever see her sitting alone on the floor by a row of windows. Sometimes she reads on her phone. Usually just observes people.

    She doesn't look good. Her eyes are bruised with insomnia, cheeks sunken. You don't see her eat, ever. Once in a while you find her sleeping on a bench.

    You want to ask. You're not sure if she would answer.

    You pass her in a corridor. She's staring blankly at a wall, scratching her arm absentmindedly. You decide to sit with her.

    Nyx smiles when she sees you. It's a very tired smile. After a few minutes of chatting, you ask her.

    She shrugs. “Things are getting harder. I'm not a strong person,” she says. She scratches both of her arms now.

    The bell rings. You stand up, promising to come back next break.

    She's not there when you come back.

    She's not there the next day, or the day after.

    She comes back the next week, somehow looking even worse than before. You make a point to sit with her on every break. You talk with everything that's happening in school and in your home. You don't have much to talk about.

    Nyx opens up to you slowly. At first, you don't notice it. She talks as usual, avoiding many subjects. She only stops pretending to feel okay. You can see it in her eyes, which look emptier with every passing day. She smiles less. Starts wearing colorful band-aids on her hands.

    She's fading away. You feel helpless.

    One day, she gives you a rock. It's not particularly pretty, just a normal rock, with a small star painted on the side.

    “Keep it with you,” she says, “it will protect you when I can't.”

    You don't ask what it means. You're scared to. You think you know the answer.

    When you accept it, Nyx smiles. You haven't seen her smile for weeks.

    She doesn't come to school the next day.

    You stare at your usual meeting place, now empty. You squeeze the rock she gave you and go back to your friends.

    You get the letter when you come back home.

    You read it carefully. Tears are falling from your eyes.

    You knew the answer.

Don't worry about me, I'll probably be fine

It all began when he met him. Over time it became clear they were on the same wavelength and pretty much in sync on everything.  The dynamic duo – PBG and Jeff.

Or so he thought, until he coughed up white petals nine months ago. At first, Jeff couldn’t believe it, when he saw a few of those in his palm.

The question was – his unrequited love – who was it? He didn’t even realize he was in love.

Time Skip 9 months

A new girl who transferred into Asagao Academy got a lot of attention. It wasn’t just because of her pink hair, she was cheerful and outgoing. Jeff wasn’t the only one who liked those traits in people, as was seen later when the girl, Hana befriended the Normal Boots.

Hana grew close to one of his best friends, which was... mildly concerning. Jeff vividly remembered when Peebs told him Hana is his childhood friend and he loved her since they were little kids. Something painful knotted up inside him; he felt light headed, but tried to appear happy for PBG’s sake.

“That’s great! You can resume your friendship where you left it off.”

PBG scratched his chin and his face was flushed as if he ran a marathon. “Well, you see I’m going to Flower Festival with her. As a r- romantic interest. It’s a date.”

Oh. A date.

Romantic date?

That’s when his condition showed its thorns and he excused himself, running to the nearest toilet to throw up those petals. He retched violently into the sink and the sight was somewhat out of horror. The white petals were mixed with red, which he recognized as blood upon feeling the iron taste in his mouth.

His condition got a lot worse. Jeff now fully understood who was the cause of this. He loved PBG, but his love won’t be reciprocated now that Hana’s in the picture.

So this is what having a broken heart felt like.

Jeff cleaned up the mess he made, leaving for his dorm room. Hopefully Ian won’t be around, he couldn’t handle these emotions. He felt like crying until he ran out of tears and became dull to the world. Maybe that would make this disease go away.

He didn’t look at faces, it all became a blur to him; a swirl of faces as he dejectedly dragged his feet to his room. He went in and sunk on his bed, where he let loose of his bottled up feelings.  

This helplessness was devastating; there was nothing he could do. Upon learning whom he loved, that person was whisked away by another person.

It’s not fair. Now I can’t even confess, since I know he loves Hana.

Jeff let those silent tears fall, sobbing quietly into his pillow, which was getting soaked. But he didn’t care for anything at the moment.

He smacked into the pillow and sheets a few times in frustration, his despair getting deeper and deeper.

Why did it have to be Peebs of all people. The one who was like my brother.

The hushed sobbing went on until he truly ran out of tears, emptying out his heart, only feelings left were dullness and tiredness.

He stirred on the bed, taking a look around his room. The room was encased in semi – darkness. He must have missed dinner. A bright light shone directly at him. Jeff tried to cover his tear – stained face and puffy eyes, but Ian’s stoic face stared him down with a frown.

Ian held up his phone, using the flashlight on it. He shook head. “Jeff, you look horrible. What happened?”  He cut to the chase, expecting answer from the heartbroken boy.

“What happened? I got my heart broken and I’m coughing up bloody petals.”

Ian stood up, crossed the room in three long steps and hugged him on the bed, trying to comfort. “Oh Jeff...”

Drained of energy, he bitterly laughed. “I missed my chance. I missed my chance and now I’m afraid to face him.”

His friend raised a brow at that. It was another guy? But who could it be? “Who is it?” He asked, knowing he won’t probably get an answer.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s happy and that’s what matters.”

Ian scoffed. “Now you’re spouting bullshit. Show a bit of your selfish side for once! Confess and maybe it’ll turn out good.”

“It won’t turn out good.” Jeff spoke softly, when that feeling came up again. He abruptly pushed Ian off and he coughed up the evidence of his illness.

His friend came up to him and patted his back, unsure what to do or say; he never met a person with this rare disease before. But if it was truly as hopeless as Jeff made it out, he should get rid of it.

“Jeff, since when did you show symptoms?”

He threw the petals into the bin and wiped his palms into his pants. Jeff didn’t want to answer, since he felt like a big fool now, for keeping it secret from his friends, especially Ian. But, at least one person ought to know. He glanced at Ian’s feet, unable to handle the mother – hen gaze. “Nine months. I learned only today who it was I loved. And today was the first time I threw up blood.”

“Nine months!? NINE MONTHS!?? ARE YOU CRAZY? YOU CAN DIE FROM THAT!!” Ian’s usual composure was gone and he became vocal with his worrying. He realized he raised his voice and apologized.

“I know I’m an idiot. Hopelessly stuck on a love that will never work out. We’ll never be together.”

“Jeff, it’s getting too dangerous. You have to go to surgery. As soon as possible.”

He stood there, like a lost child left in the rain. “I can’t do that. I’ll lose more than the love, I’ll lose all the memories I made with that person. It was like he and I never met. If I go and have that surgery done; after that we’ll meet and I won’t recognize him. At all. It’s... horrible.”

Ian tried to reason with him. “It’s better than dying! Jeff, listen to me! You can’t do this, this pain is consuming your from inside out. The sooner you get rid of it, the better!”

“I’ll think about it.” Jeff’s tone was definitive, ending the discussion. Ian sighed, knowing there was no persuading him. At least not now. “Fine. I guess you want to keep it between us?”

Jeff nodded.

“You’re impossible. If I find who the guy is, I’m making him take a look at the picture of misery standing beside me and telling him it’s his fault for causing you so much pain.”

“No, it’s not his fault. If someone’s at fault here, it’s me. He deserves better.”

“Really? Is that your disease speaking or your severely impaired rationality?”

Jeff plopped down on his bed, laying on stomach. “Both probably. I’m sorry, but would you mind bunking up with someone else tonight? I want to be alone.”

Ian crossed his arms defiantly, but his thoughts of protesting ceased when he saw Jeff’s face. “Alright, I’ll do what you want, but only tonight.” He grabbed his phone and at the door, he threw one last glance at his friend who just blankly stared at the wall.

He left, shutting the door with a thud. Jeff switched to lay on his side, the numbness consumed him. There were only two options. Suffer a horrible death... or get surgery done. He didn’t want to die, there was so much more he wanted to achieve in life, to see with his own eyes.

How much more until the disease claims him...?

Jeff’s phone buzzed, indicating he received a text message. Apathetically, he clicked into his feed.

                                                      PBG – Jeff, I hope you’re okay now. Is your                                                           stomach upset? Must be from the stress                                                                 you’re  under. Remember to take it easy and                                                        relax sometimes. Gotta go, I’m live on PB&J! :D

He turned off his phone and stood up to lock the door. He laid back on bed with a lot on mind.

Ian was right, it had to be done. No regrets. He has one last talk with PBG tomorrow and then....

I won’t remember him. I will hurt him indirectly when he meets ‘me’ after the operation.

Another wave of sadness rushed him.

I’ll say my final goodbye.

When he gazed at his mirror reflection the next day, he looked as bad as he felt, if not worse. Over night, he packed most of his essentials and the suitcase now stood in the left corner of dorm room like a grim reminder that he has to leave for a while.

There was no point postponing the inevitable. Jeff only changed clothes, shedding off his Hidden Block yellow & black jacket, leaving it slung over his chair.

Jeff had no appetite, but he headed towards cafeteria anyway. PBG would be there.

He entered and spotted him sitting at Normal Boots table, only ones there with him were Satch and Shane. And of course, his club was there, too at the usual table. With a weary smile he approached the table, and all conversations ceased.

“Why do you have casual clothes on? Where’s your uniform?”

“I’m leaving today. Ian will tell you more. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. I’m sorry...” He bowed and his friends gaped at him, shocked and at loss at words. Ian, however knew a bit more and he had that look of deep understanding.

Now, there was only one matter, he turned on heel and strut to Normal Boots table. Jeff patted him on shoulder to get his attention. PBG looked up from his plate. “Jeff?”

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

PBG’s expression turned from worried to serious, as he nodded and abandoned the table, walking behind Jeff who had to remind himself to put one foot in front of another to keep walking.

Jeff led him to the theater. PBG would lie if he wasn’t intrigued why he wanted to talk in private and in such a desolate location, but he followed after his friend.

PBG shut the door and Jeff halted, standing near the stage. Peebs closed the distance, troubled by Jeff’s odd behavior. “I can feel something’s wrong. Also why aren’t you wearing your school uniform?” He asked.

“I’m not wearing the uniform because I’m leaving. I’ve had the Hanahaki Disease for a while now, but yesterday it got ten times worse. I need to get the surgery done.”

I won’t remember you at all.

PBG heard of that before, but he never thought a close friend would be afflicted. “So that’s why you run yesterday, to... uh... throw up petals...?”

His throat tightened, so he simply nodded. PBG raised a hand, reaching for him, but retreated in the last second. Somehow, he felt the last thing Jeff wanted now from his was empathy.

“But, why are you telling me this?”

Because I love you so damn much it’s killing me.

“You’re my best friend, I thought you should know.” Jeff lied, avoiding PBG’s gaze intentionally.

To his surprise, Peebs wrapped his arms around him and Jeff barely contained his tears.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry...

He wished he could stay in his arms forever, but he had to face the reality; which was he’ll always be a friend. Nothing more. But, just for this moment, just this one last time...

Let me enjoy this moment.

Jeff rested his head on PBG’s shoulder, while the other boy patted his back rather awkwardly. “Is it really that bad? Do you have to leave? Flower Festival is tomorrow...”

“The more I wait, the more I risk it getting worse. I need to book an appointment.” Jeff muttered into his shoulder. “I... I understand. But who is the girl you like? She must be blind not to love you back.”

He chuckled at the irony. “Let’s just say it wasn’t gonna work out between us.” Jeff pried himself off from his chest, turning his back on him.

His knew very well this was the last goodbye. Jeff strut to the theater entrance, he balled up his fists, nails digging into his palms.

“Jeff!” Peebs yelled out when his hands were on the door handle. In that split second, he almost believed it would have a different ending. The desperation in PBG’s voice did a number with his heart.

Cocking head to the side, he got to see him with tears dripping down his cheeks. “Will you be alright after that?”

You dummy, don’t cry or else I’ll cry, too.

Jeff pulled up one his best goofy grins. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll probably be fine.” He sighed, looking outside the door he just opened wide.

It was so sunny and bright.

Goodbye Peebs. I know Hana will make you happy.

He walked out and felt this bittersweet feeling envelop around him as he walked back to Bluebell, tears he didn’t even bother hiding flowed out on their own.

On the train, he wiped his face clean and called his parents, informing them of the situation.

After all that was done, he was exhausted and let the train lull him along.

The Daily Life of Mayuki Family #52

52 - Dishonesty It was already weekend and once again the KojiYuu family gather together to celebrate Yuko's birthday in their family villa. Currently they are having a party.. Yuko, Mayu, Sayanee and Natsu are grilling the dishes while others are preparing the table Yuko: hmm.. My birthday seems to be incomplete without my best friends.. this is so heartbreaking.. (´⌒｀｡) Mayu: geez, don't say that touchan you still have us here   Sayanee: But why they will not come here today touchan? Yuko: they went out of the country and was supposed to come here this day but their flight was delayed 😕 *sigh* Mayu: ah well, that can't be helped.. Yuko: and I told them countless time to come home early to be here tho.. T^T Sayanee: but touchan i'm sure they still want to celebrate their best friend's birthday even if it's late Yuko: Yeah i know, but why is Jurina, Rena and Madoka-chan also didn't come with us? geez.. my birthday this year is so lonely 😣 Mayu: well.. *glances at natsu* Natsu: *not listening* *staring blankly*

Yuko: *sigh* thank goodness, at least I still have my Haruna as a a present later.. since she agreed to finally wear the lingerie I bought *perverted laugh* (ﾉ≧∀≦)ﾉ Mayu: uhh.. (^～^;)ゞ Sayanee: er.. touchan don't say such things around the kids please.. (＠￣A￣＠；) Yuko: it's alright, it's alright *laughs* Sayanee: geez touchan, it's no wonder why my sister got that perverted-ness Mayu: what!? Sayanee: really.. you two should hold back when there are kids around, What if Natsumi got influenced? Mayu: huh?! you shouldn't be the one to say that, i know you're just perverted as i am *sarcastic laugh* Sayanee: what?! i'm not! *blush* Mayu: heh~ is that so? ╰(▔∀▔)╯ Yuko: fighting again? geez.. you two said you'd stop fighting since it's my birthday.. Sayanee: ah sorry.. Mayu: sorry touchan.. Yuko: alright but please hold back from your perverted-ness while the kids are around, ok *smiles* *grills meat* Sayanee: ...? we don't want to hear that from you, touchan.. Mayu: eh? (・∧‐)ゞ Mayu: *glances  again at natsu, who is still staring blankly at the meat she's grilling* AH!!! Natsu, the meat is being burnt- o_o; Natsu: hm? *looks at what she's doing* ah-!*panic* Mayu: geez, what are you doing? *helps natsu* Sayanee: natsu are you okay? are you still sick? you seems pale.. Natsu: ah, no I'm alright *tries to smile* Yuko: Why don't you rest for a while Natsu: eh, but sofu- Yuko: it's ok *gently smiles* Natsu: h-hai, thanks sofu.. Meanwhile on the other side, Aoi is worried and secretly glances on Natsu walking away Milky: *whispers at aoi* why don't you follow and talk to her? Aoi: eh? -but kaachan.. Milky: hm? but? is there any problem? Aoi: ... Milky: perhaps, you're still angry with her? Aoi: no, it's not that.. Milky: then why? it's your chance you know~ if you like her you should steal her heart *tease* Aoi: i know, but still... *looks down* Milky: *sigh* I know you're worried, why don't you just talk to her... Also, i know you've been crying alone.. Aoi: eh...? Milky: just go ok? *smiles* Aoi: mmkay *nods* Milky: good, that's my daughter *hugs* * * Natsu went back on her room and laid down on the bed, she was staring blankly at the ceiling not wanting to think of anything when someone came knocking.. Natsu: yes? *gets up to open the door* Aoi: nacchan.. Natsu: a..aoi- *startled* Natsu: *opens door* Aoi: feeling better? *smiles* Natsu: u-uhm y-yeah.. Aoi: liar.. *pouts* can i come in? Natsu: s-sure.. Aoi: *sat on natsu's bed* Natsu: *looks at aoi* Aoi: well? Natsu: eh? *confused* Aoi: i mean why are you staring at me like that naachan? Natsu: ah- no, i just thought you're mad at me.. Aoi: i am mad at you.. *lays on the bed* Aoi: really mad.. Natsu: i'm sorry.. Aoi: why are you even saying sorry.. Natsu: that's because— Aoi: i hate you..! Natsu: aoitan Aoi: *turns around burying her face on the pillows* Aoi: i hate... still love you.. *mumbles* *tries not to cry* Natsu: eh? Aoi: nothing!!! Natsu: ok, uhm..  aoitan.. *sits beside her* Aoi: ... Natsu: aoitan.. Aoi: what? Natsu: are you still angry? Aoi: hmmmm.. Natsu: aoi-chan, still angry? Aoi: ...... Natsu: aoi-tan *pats aoi who's laying , facing down on the bed* Aoi: ...... Natsu: what should i do so that aoitan will be able to forgive me? Aoi: .... Natsu: please~ tell me.. i don't want aoitan to be mad at me, so please~ Aoi: *sits up facing natsu* nattan.. remember when we are still kids, how you always protects me, always care for me Natsu: un.. Aoi: that time you said that you will always be there for me.. that you wouldn't leave me, and i believed you.. i thought we will always be together Natsu: eh..? *startled* Aoi: you don't remember anymore? *tears* Natsu: no- it's not that.. of course i remember.. i did say that.. Aoi: *suddenly hugs natsu* Aoi: Back then, you were always prioritizing me before anyone but then, one day you told us you have a girlfriend.. Aoi: you already forgot what you promised.. Natsu: it's not that aoi *doesn't know what to say* Aoi: It is! i know it's bad but.. when you and Jiina broke up, i felt happy.. really happy. Natsu: eh? Aoi: but then you're always sulking.. crying.. you feel distant. I can't bear to see you like that.. I just want to be with you.. I want you to be happy nattan.. Aoi: *sniffs* *hugs tighter* Natsu: I- *speechless* *confused* *Aoi's thought: why..? why don't you just love me instead...* Natsu: aoitan? *Aoi's thought: no- why am i thinking like this.. * Aoi: *cries* Natsu: eh?!? don't cry aoitan *panics* Aoi: you— why are you even back with her again?! didn't she already left you?! Natsu: she did left me but she has her own reasons too Aoi: reasons? what kind of reason is that, enough to hurt you like that?!   Natsu: aoi, about that.. it's not her fault, please don't be angry at her. Aoi: it's not her fault that she left you?! really?! didn't she decided that on her own?! what will you do if she hurt you again nattan?! what if she leave you again? didn't you already learn your lesson? Natsu: Aoi, please understand. she has her own circumstances too. please give her a chance. Aoi: a chance of what ? Natsu:  I know that you are angry with her but she's a nice person, she also wanted to be friends with you, so please give her a chance. aoi.. you're a really important person to me, that's why I'm asking you— Aoi: so you're saying that, i should give a chance to accept her? Aoi's thought: stupid.. *pain* Natsu: aoi.. *hugs* it's not that! but please just give her a chance too.. Aoi: why did she left you? Natsu: well.. she kinda have family problems that time so.. well, you know.. Aoi: then why didn't you tell me anything about her returning back? Natsu:  that's... sorry, i didn't tell you.. Aoi: ... Natsu: well.. i know you would get angry so i couldn't say it.. Aoi: angry? do you think i would just get angry? Natsu: eh? Aoi: forget it! then, what about chii-chan? haven't you ever considered her feelings when you got back with your ex? Natsu: uh..? *sweats* Aoi: you know how chii-chan loves you, so why are you hurting her like this?! Natsu: h-how did you know.. Aoi: And what about mado-chan? didn't you ever consider her feelings too!? stupid nattan!! Natsu: w-what?! how did you know that— Aoi: why? why do you keep on hurting those who loves you nattan..? *painful expression* Natsu: *stunned* Aoi: tell me nattan.. *sniffs* do you- do you really love her? Natsu: eh? Aoi:  *firm look* Natsu: what kind of question is that, aoitan? Aoi: *leans over natsu* do you still love your ex? Natsu: that's... of c-courー *suddenly knocking on the door* Sakura: nee-chan, are you asleep? can i come in? Natsu: saku-chan? *rushes to the door* *heart beating* Sakura:  kaa-chan is worried about you.. *notices natsu's  expressions* are you okay, nee-chan? Natsu: I'm alright, don't worry *pats sakura* *smile* Sakura: alright.. ah, aoi-nee is here too? *sees aoi, sitting on natsu's bed* Natsu: uhm yeah Aoi: i was worried about her so i went to check her, saku-chan *smiles* Sakura: oh, ok.. but the food is now ready so should we go down now? and sofu is getting lonely Natsu: haha, is that so? we should really go down now, right aoitan? *looks at aoi* *helpless smile* Aoi: un..*small smile* *** On the way, the 3 were silent.. Sakura feels awkward and with the atmosphere, she is wondering if something else had happened besides her beloved sis' ex lover is back. Despite this she chose to stay silent and about it. Meanwhile, Natsu somehow felt conflicted. She feels somewhat relieved that her sister interrupted Aoi's interrogation even though she really wanted to talk to her and explain everything. While walking, Aoi often glances at Natsu feeling unsatisfied, from their talk and from Natsu's answer. * * Yuko: oh~ they're here! geez, i thought we'd die from hunger before you can get back here.. tsk.. tsk.. Natsu: eh..? sorry sofu.. ; Haruna: yuuchan—  can't you see natsumi-chan is still feeling sick? （；¬＿¬) Yuko: *gulp* hai sorry.. I'm just kidding you know.. mou~ Haruna: are you okay now? don't force yourself if you're not feeling well ok? Natsu: hai, thanks sobo *smile* Yuko: well then, let's have a feast! *** While eating,, Natsu thought she should try lessen their worry and smile more considering how worried her family is, but she flinches whenever their conversation involves madoka.. Haruna: so, why is jurina and rena didn't celebrate with us? did they have another business trip? Mayu: uhm.. yeah, that's right kaa-chan Haruna: hmm, i see.. what about their daughter? madoka-chan, you should've invited her over natsumi Natsu: *gulp* ah- yes Aoi: *looks at natsu from across the table* Yuki: we did invite her, but it seems she have another plan Haruna: i see.. well, i was hoping to see them since Yuuchan keep on telling me that finally we'll be a real family with her best friends Yuko: ahh- wait nyannyan Mayu: eh? Sayanee: what do you mean kaachan? Haruna: well you know a real family since natsumi-chan and madoka-chan engaged Natsu: *choked* Sakura: neechan? are you alright? Natsu: u-un.. Mayu: kaachan that's.. Haruna: hm? why? is Yuuchan only joking? *looks at yuko* Yuko: *shakes head* Mayu: uhm, it's that, even though we set it.. of course we want the kids to decide for their own self Haruna: hm, i see Sayanee: but isn't that a good thing, they look good together Aoi: *drops the utensil* Sayanee: aoi? Aoi: sorry hehe *smile* Milky: *looks at her daughter worried* Yuko: well, let's move on with that and talk about other things okay? Yuko: how about sakuchan? time really flies.. look at how my sakuchan had grown up Mayu: i know right, and she's going on a rebellious phase right now, it's so sad.. Yuko: haha, well that happens. But sakutan, don't you have someone important right now? it seems you're always holding your phone *teases* Mayu: Huh?! WHAT?! that can't be!! Sakutan, is that True?! tell me who is it?! *rage* Yuki: mayu, calm down.. Sakura: geez.. *mentally face palmed* **** After the celebration, Natsu sat on the bench outside to refresh herself. From afar, aoi saw her and is now gazing on her Milky: so, why is my baby alone here while making a sad face? Aoi: kaachan, I'm not a baby anymore Milky: really? *combs aoi's hair* Aoi: mou.. Milky: *giggles* well, you're still a baby since you keep on crying Aoi: i'm not.. *pouts* Milky: you do.. Aoi: but that's because.. *looks down* Milky: you know.. *pats aoi's head* it's not bad to cry if you're feeling sad or you're hurt but— crying too much and you'll get drowned..then will lose sight on the things that could make you happy Aoi: *looks at her mom* Milky: have you calmed down now? Aoi: somehow.. thanks kaachan Milky: why don't you go and talk to her again? *smiles* Aoi: un! *walks to where natsu is* Sayanee : *appears from behind* *about to call her daughter back but is stopped by her wife* Milky: let the kids do their own stuff okay? *smile* *drags sayanee on bedroom* Sayanee:    Σ(°△°|||)︴ eh? Aoi sat beside natsu who seems to be drowned from her own thoughts that she became oblivious, not noticing aoi approaching her. Aoi: i wonder what is nattan's thinking.. Natsu: *startled* Aoi: you seemed to be deep in thoughts, you're making a troubled face.. Natsu: am i? *laugh forcibly* Aoi: you are, well you still have the cute face tho Natsu: *sudden laugh* that's somehow rare Aoi: rare? you're not the only one who can be a sweet talker you know, hmp. Natsu: eh, i'm not a sweet talker Aoi: you are! and a play girl Natsu: eh, that's how aoitan view me? how sad.. Aoi: well, no matter you look at it, you are *laughs* Natsu: geez.. what's wrong with aoitan today, bullying me.. *laughs* Aoi: you finally laugh huh *smile* Natsu: *surprised* ah— Aoi: sorry i got mad at you nattan Natsu: no- it's my fault, i know i should've told you but I'm.. well kinda worried.. *nervous laugh* Aoi: hm.. Natsu: and that I'm scared.. Aoi: scared? scared that we would get angry? Natsu: well you know.. i don't want to hurt chiichan or madochan but i'm scared.. I'm such a fool.. Aoi: yeah you are.. and you know.. not only chiichan and madochan would be hurt, didn't you think that it would hurt me too? *leans on natsu* Natsu: aoi? Aoi: before madochan, even before chiichan.. you only care for aoi so I'm jealous.. Natsu: I didn't forget my promise, aoitan.. you're important to me and I'm always by your side when you need me Aoi : *gets up, looking at natsu*  really? Natsu: really Aoi: then what about chiichan? Natsu: chiichan is also very important, you know that. She had been always there for me when i need her, I- I don't want to lose her Aoi: what about madochan then? Natsu: She— She's important to me too.. even though we know each other for a short time, she became very special to me too.. Aoi: then? you do not plan on telling jiina about your engagement to her? Natsu: actually.. she already knew.. Aoi: eh?! then— Natsu: but madochan.. Aoi: hm? Natsu: madoka.. she break it off.. the engagement.. Aoi: don't you want that? *looks at natsu* Natsu: it's not that i don't.. it's that Aoi: it is what? Natsu: it is— uhm.. *confused* Aoi: you said you love jiina? then why don't you want that? Natsu: i do but it's just that... *recalls what happened* it's just that madoka, she's crying..