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nerdy-simp-7120 · 3 years

Note

hi! if you're comfortable writing this, could i ask for a scenario? this has been in the back of my head for a while.

what would be the reaction of the brothers + dateables of watching mc play resident evil in the dimitrescu castle? who would be down bad the most

thank you! feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write this ofc

I love this ask (stan tall vampire lady). The only thing is that I accidentally turned it into a “how they feel about the game.” I managed to add in some parts with MC playing as well to make up for it

Update: I literally finished the request yesterday but my wifi went down and I lost everything 😩 😩

I also wrote this in the middle of the night so sorry if there are any errors! Enjoy!

Warnings: cursing.

How the OM! characters would react to you playing Resident Evil (Dimitrescu Castle edition)

Lucifer

Will not care at first

"I hold no interest in such trivial simulations."

His weakness? Being a simp for you.

He decides to look into the game a bit more in private later on.

Will lowkey practice the game

If you ever catch him playing it, do not say anything because he will stop immediately, deny everything, and might not ever do it again

With time, however, Lucifer will come to master the game.

Here comes the showing off.

When you're rambling about the game with Levi, Lucifer will join the conversation and you two will be like "wow, boomer knows something for once--"

Or when you're struggling on a part of the game he will be like, "hand it over"

Before expertly getting through that part.

Can defeat Lady Dimitrescu if you ask him to but be careful cause he might make you beg

sadistic bastard

or you can be a badass and show him your skills

Will be a tad shocked at how easily you handled it but won't let it show (okay Elsa)

Also proud though

Lucifer's internal monologue: “That’s right- show them how it’s done, Y/n.”

Mammon

Scared.

Will watch you play and cover his eyes during every battle

"wHAT IS THAT?!" at everything you come across

I hope you're good at playing one-handed because you'll have to use the other hand to hold his throughout the entire thing

Admires you're bravery but would never admit it

"You were horrible! ...N-nice job beating the game, not that I c-care or anything. You sucked anyways!"

Not even 10 seconds later...

"Can I watch you play again?"

Comes to find that the faces you make are adorable: when you're concentrating on a battle, when you win, find a valuable item, etc

He loves being able to see how you're feeling up close.

If you catch him staring when you take a break or something he'll blush and either ask you if you have a staring problem or that you have something on your face

He may or may not buy cheap merch (a tiny key chain of Lady Dimitrescu or your favorite character) for you, all the while spewing lame excuses

Please bear with him- he's trying.

Leviathan

"YOU ALSO LIKE RESIDENT DEVIL?!?? Ah! I-I mean..."

Congrats, you just found yourself someone to discuss the game with

Is open to cosplay the characters with you

You two will have competitions to see who can beat the game faster.

You both also share theories with each other all the time

Or simply discuss the characters together

He purposefully stays quiet to hear you ramble on and on- dude finds it adorable

You two also sometimes argue debate over a character name or event in the game

Because while you have Resident Evil

He only knows Resident Devil

This is the equivalent of Devilgram and Instagram

I mean

They’re the same,

But a couple things were altered, y’know, to prevent copyright

So yes, there are definitely a few quarrels here and there

But all in all, it’s a fun gamer bud experience

Don’t tell him I told you but he thinks it’s hot when you show off your badass skills in a boss fight

Satan

He plays it on the lowkey.

Not because he’s embarrassed

But because he partially takes his anger out on the characters

During gory scenes, he imagines it’s him torturing Lucifer, fueling his determination to win

A calculated person, Satan is a smart player

But there are times when he’s particularly angry and he becomes a reckless one, jumping into fights impetuously

This is where you come in and beat the enemy for him

He may get angrier, thinking you are underestimating him

But, for the sake of the person he loves, he calms down knowing you didn’t mean to offend him

A small part in the back of his head also admires you for being able to handle the fight a ton better than he did

Congratulations, you just earned yourself the great Satan’s respect (resident evil-wise).

Asmodeus

“Oh my, I never knew you were into such gory games! Does this mean you’re into blood play, because I know many things about--”

He may look carefree on the outside

But on the inside?

Let’s take a look, shall we?

Holy shit

What the fu--

Jesus christ, can you pull a move like that in real life?

He needs to be careful to not piss you off.

If you can handle this, who knows what you could be capable of?

Hold on.

Wait, you look so concentrated

Eeep! How cute!

Anyways, it ends with him snapping a bunch of pictures

Keeps them for himself and may brag to his brothers about how he got some “special” shots of you

Obviously never elaborates on what the special part means to keep his dear siblings on edge because, what the hell, they want to know what these special shots are

Would not play the game because there’s “tOo MuCh BlOoDsHeD”

We all know he’s most likely seen his fair share of bloodshed

“What if the adrenaline gives me acne?”

He’s probably just bad at the game--

Verdict: Asmo is a simp and not afraid to flaunt it.

Beel

...Are you okay?

Do you think about homicide--?

Oh, that lady looks nice.

Huh, she’s 9′6″??

What’s her name? Lady Dimitrescu?

Okay-- WAIT WHY IS SHE TURNING INTO THAT??

Not scared, just a tad bit concerned

Poor Beel, concerned for Lady D :’)

Also, seeing the death’s of Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra hit different

Because he know what it’s like to lose a sibling.

Safe to say he understands Alcina’s pain when she raged about her children being dead.

Also concerned about how the gore could affect you

Because isn’t stuff like this supposed to traumatize humans?

Would support you regardless though

And thinks that you’re really brave for playing the game and still being able to stand strong

On another note, Beel decided to make small flower graves for the three sisters and Alcina because he’s adorable and kind like that

Belphegor

Likes the game but is too lazy to play himself

Regularly watches Satan play (or at least as much as he can before deciding it’s nap time)

I hope you enjoy Belphie using you as a body pillow and watching you play from now on

Makes small comments here and there to help you out

“To your left... Oh, and open the window- yeah, that one.”

Will smirk, impressed, when you deal with the fights and win yourself without his comments.

“That’s my Y/n”

(Sorry I don’t know what else to put for him :’))

Diavolo

“Is this a human trend?” meme

Will watch excitedly and “oooo” whenever you do something cool

Be careful though, because the questions will not stop as you play

“What’s that? I see. What’s it for? How do you win the game? Who’s that character? Why can’t you do this? What about--?”

Diavolo, you’re awesome and all, but please

shush

On the inside, is also one that might be a tad concerned about your mental health because doesn’t that gore traumatize humans?

Wait, you do this for entertainment?

...

Another warning: he will shower you in merchandise from the game

I am not above the fact that this man has a game room

And he will try to master the game

Casually pushes all his paperwork over to Lucifer so he can play Resident Evil

RIP Luci

Unfortunately, Diavolo will have trouble grasping the game and how it works

You will have to explain many things to him

Good luck- he’s a bit of a boomer (but willing to learn) and may or may not get distracted staring at you

But anyways, he enjoys engaging in the competitions you and Levi have

Whether it be playing as well or simply watching

He just loves to see you happy

Barbatos

Oh my, what’s this?

Will watch you play

and constantly criticize how filthy the Dimitrescu castle is

“Do they have any idea how many rats this can attract?”

Barbatos, your weakness is showing.

Seeing you so happy while playing the game helps him relax from his daily troubles tasks

He rewards you with a pat on the head any time you beat a foe

When Diavolo goes over to the HoL or when you come over to play in he silently cheers you on in the background.

Solomon

Yuh

Is educated on the game and knows his shit as the only other human

Maybe knows a bit too much of the game

You will later come to find out that, somewhere in his mass tangle of shady connections, he knows a developer

Might give you tips and tricks to get on higher levels

But never, and I mean never, challenge him like you would with Levi to see who can beat the game faster

Because he will beat you by a seconds on purpose, just to piss you of

all the while doing that dark, shady chuckle

Asshole

But anyways, if you manage to finesse and beat him, he will be

So confused

“I thought I did it all right, what went wrong...?” he thinks to himself.

On the outside, however, he’s smiling

Will hand over some praise to his little apprentice, but if you look carefully you will see a spark of annoyance

We get it Solomon, you’re a sore loser.

In the end, he will still leave somewhat impressed at your skillz

Simeon

w h a t

Is a little scared

“Is this one of them video games you kids play nowadays...? Just kidding. What are you playing-- oh my”

Might try to figure out how to play

But alas,

Simeon is yet another boomer

So he will have quite some trouble even figuring out how to move

And why does he hold the controller like that what

If you’ve seen that one picture of him holding his phone sideways you know what I mean

On another note, if you look through his poem book, then you may or may not find a few poems describing how amazing and badass you looked hustling the entire game

Luke

about to bomb this master hill

No literally is considering bombing the computer or whatever you’re playing on because wHAT IS THAT

He is just

Scared

This will give him nightmares for weeks

Apparently Alcina reminds him of Lucifer so he kinda

Hates her

Says he will protect you

--as he runs out of the room in fear

Irrelevant but the one he hates the most is fetus baby

Michael have mercy on this poor boy--

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

Text

Eskel is a Fanboy (Part 2, Electric Boogaloo)

This is a second part of this. Which in turn was inspired by this.

Please note, this is less funny and a little deeper than the first part, despite the title. Discussions of FEELINGS, hardcore, but also the trials. Brief mention of hypothermia.

Read it here on Ao3

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Geralt arrived late that year. Vesemir had been pacing the corridors, a worry line between his brows, for the last week. The snows were getting worse and worse and innocent snowflakes joined other completely harmless snowflakes until a very un-harmless amount of snow had piled on the track and the passes.

Lambert, alongside Aiden (another reason for the creases on Vesemir’s brow) lounged in the great hall, completely unconcerned.

“He’s stayed later and later every year,” Lambert said, lazily. “He keeps lingering with that bard of his. Why should this year be any different?” His eyes were half closed as Aiden played idly with his hair.

“If he doesn’t get here in the next two days he’ll be too late,” Vesemir snapped.

“I recognize I’m the outsider, here,” Aiden said. “But I don’t always winter with my troupe, and Lambert occasionally spends winters away...”

Eskel shook his head. The constant bickering was impacting his reading and he’d long ago marked his place in his book and set it aside. “Not Geralt,” he said with certainty. “He always winters at home.”

Aiden levelled a chilly, yellow gaze. “You love him.”

“He’s my brother in arms.”

“He’s special to you.”

Eskel wanted to growl and snap, but Aiden wasn’t saying it in a malicious way. There was no threat or accusation in his words. If there had been it would have been pure hypocrisy, what with the way Lambert currently lay in his lap. Eskel had spent a week pretending not to see the pairs’ furtive kisses.

“He is special to me,” Eskel said at last. “I found him, after his second trial, was given special allowance to be away from training to help him. Whatever happened, with the mutagens, he was deaf and blind for nearly two weeks. And had as much strength as a kitten.”

Vesemir’s pacing gained a sharper edge. “I wish I’d killed the mage that called for that second trial.” He said. Lambert and Eskel made eye contact, they were familiar with the self loathing in Vesemir’s voice. Lambert was angry at the world and his whole situation, but they had all forgiven Vesemir years ago. There was no choice but to mend bridges with a pack so small. Still, they rarely talked about it.

“You killed the mage that called for his third,” Eskel said, quietly.

Aiden’s head jerked up. He’d been a witcher, albeit a different school. He knew the trials, he knew the pain, but three trials... “They tried...?”

Eskel nodded his confirmation. “Geralt survived, and the mages who ran the trials wanted to see how many he could take.”

“So I split his throat on my knife,” Vesemir said. There was no satisfaction in his tone, but just an empty statement of action.

“I didn’t know it was you that killed the mage,” Lambert said. “I just knew one had been killed for the suggestion. I heard they made the witcher drink hemlock as punishment.” There was a warmer light of respect in Lambert’s eyes than usually shone there.

“They did,” Vesemir said. “It didn’t kill me.”

That was it for conversation that night, but Eskel went to bed thinking about Aiden’s words.

He’s special to you.

Geralt was special to him. There was an understanding, something gentle and kind between them. Geralt and Eskel lived their separate lives and had lovers and adventures. But for three months of the year they had each other.

Eskel had sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with him. He never gave his heart to anyone. Sex meant nothing and love didn’t happen, and he could only love Geralt for three months at a time.

Except that wasn’t true at all, because of course Eskel loved Geralt all the time. It was only a softer kind of love than he read about in poetry. He didn’t need fiery passion and desperate declarations of love. He had a steady love for Geralt, as sure as the beating of his heart. It was as good a love story as any, but now Geralt had his bard and a tiny, hidden part of Eskel whispered “If Only.”

If only he and Geralt could lounge like Aiden and Lambert, to pet each others’ hair and share small kisses in the corners. If only Eskel really had Geralt for those three months. He had no doubt that the feelings were mutual, but something in their lives had been built apart, and it would take something powerful to shape them anew.

The next evening brought a blizzard. And Geralt.

It took both Aiden and Lambert to shut the door behind Geralt with the way the wind blew in around him. It curled and flickered shards of ice through the air that melted in the heat of the hall, dampening Geralt’s old, black cloak. Which he was holding around himself like a cocoon. Vesemir took Geralts cloak for him, which revealed what he’d been holding.

Huddled against Geralt, nose red and face pale, was a young man in a blue cloak.

Geralt bundled him in front of the fire without a word, pulling away the damp cloak and hanging it to dry. Vesemir brought blankets as Geralt pried the instrument case from the man’s hands.

A lute case.

Eskel’s pulse picked up. This was obviously the bard. This was Jaskier, Oxenfurt’s most prodigious poet. He’d studied with Rumi and Alighieri and Li Bai. In just a few years he’d reformed witchers�� reputations. They’d all been treated better these past few years. More money, less tar and feathers. Eskel went to sit beside Jaskier to beg him for stories but Geralt met his gaze, smiled softly, and shook his head.

Eskel restrained himself. Jaskier was clearly staving off shock from the cold, as well as hypothermia. Instead of doing what he really wanted to do (lay himself prone at Jaskier’s feet and worship his skill with words) he put on a kettle for tea.

Aiden and Lambert make eye contact with each other, nod to Geralt, and leave. Vesemir also makes a tactful retreat. This time was just for Eskel and Geralt. And the bard shivering on a pile of cushions next to the fire.

“He had a hard time on the Killer,” Geralt said, quietly.

“It’s called the Killer for a reason.”

“He begged me to come, I told him it would be too dangerous,” Geralt whispered. “He followed me and I couldn’t make him leave, that’s why I was late.”

“Vesemir’s been worried,” Eskel said, staring at the fire. He sat on the cushions, beside the bard, without taking his eyes from the coals. Geralt sat on the other side of Jaskier, rubbing carefully over the bard’s chilly hands, pulling off the woolen mittens and gently warming each knuckle.

“I had to go slower for him,” Geralt said. Between the two of them, the bard seemed mostly asleep. His eyelashes flickered on his cheeks, struggling to stay open.

“You can sleep,” Eskel whispered. “You’ll wake up, you’re cold but not in danger.” He took the other chilly hand. “Just sleep.”

Blue eyes slipped closed and Eskel took the kettle off the fire so it didn’t whistle.

“He was so desperate to be here, he wanted to see the Keep,” Geralt said. “And I wanted him to come. To meet you.”

“I did make you promise I’d get to meet him,” Eskel said, sitting back down and resting a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “I think I’ve read everything he’s ever written.”

“That’s not why I wanted him to meet you,” Geralt said.

Eskel’s breath caught. They were talking about it, sort of. “I know,” he said.

The bard curled up a little, like a nautilus shell. Geralt lay down on the cushions behind him and Eskel made himself comfortable. Sleep and warmth and the smell of the pine fire lulled him slowly to sleep. Just as he was drifting off, Jaskier reached out in his sleep and placed one hand, less chilly than it was, on Eskel’s arm. It stayed there until the morning.

“So True Love’s Waste wasn’t inspired by a person?” Eskel asked over breakfast, mouth full of porridge.

Jaskier shook his head, gulping down hot tea. “No, I was out on a bender with some friends and we saw this washerwoman’s cat trying to catch a soap bubble, right?”

Eskel nodded, entranced.

“It was so totally focused on catching this soap bubble, it’s eyes were all wide and determined, like all it wanted was the bubble, but when it caught the bubble...”

“It popped,” Eskel laughed. “And you wrote a poem that has been deemed the best love poem of the last hundred years about it.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Art is more trite and derivative than people think.”

Eskel reached out and touched Jaskier’s wrist, looking into those heavily-lashed eyes. “Your work could never be called trite, or derivative.”

Behind Jaskier, Eskel saw something flash in Geralt’s eyes, and he stood from the table, clearing his plate, but then Jaskier was telling a story about Rumi, his former professor, and Eskel’s attention was diverted.

The next week passed in peace, for the most part. Repairs to the keep were ongoing, but halted when the snow was heavy. Vesemir kept them training and the library, neglected by all but Eskel, kept Jaskier busy. At mealtimes and in the evenings Eskel and Jaskier chatted about art and music and life on the Path. But Geralt was subdued, something tired and sad gleaming in his golden eyes. He wouldn’t talk about it, and he fled when Eskel tried.

It hurt, that Geralt suddenly wouldn’t talk to him, but Eskel knew the white wolf better than anyone, so he cornered him in the training yard one afternoon and pinned him down.

“Talk. To. Me,” he panted, grinding Geralt’s shoulders into the flagstones.

“Nothing to say,” Geralt grunted.

“Bullshit.”

“Nothing!”

“You keep hiding! It’s not nothing!”

Geralt kicked his feet up, flipping them both over and freeing himself. He stood over Eskel who was still laying on the ground. “You can have him,” he said, beginning to walk away.

Eskel snagged his ankle, bringing his idiot wolf down to the ground without remorse. “You’re stupid.”

“I’m not, he adores you. You have so much in common, it makes sense.”

Eskel remembered the conversation of the year before. Please don’t take my bard.

“I’m not taking your lover boy from you,” he snapped.

“He’s not my lover boy.”

“He would be if you would only ask him.”

“He deserves better.”

“He wants you.”

“He wants you,” Geralt howled. “He looks at you like you got out a ladder and personally nailed the moon to the sky. Every time you talk he hangs on your words.”

“He looks at you the same way,” Eskel said, quietly. “And I...” He paused. This was so close to the thing they never talked about.

“You don’t look at me that way,” Geralt whispered.

“But I feel it all the same.”

The admission rang in the empty training yard, despite it being barely a whisper.

“I want you to have him, to be with him, because the two of you are made for eachother. It was obvious to me before you’d even met. I just wish,” Geralt stopped, his voice growing tight.

“What do you wish?”

“I just hate that it hurts so much. I love you both, I do, so so much, and all I want is you two happy, and you’ll be happy together, but I just wish it didn’t cut me out.”

Eskel rolled over and bumped his forehead to Geralt’s. There were tear tracks in the dirt there. “It doesn’t have to. That’s a silly rule and you made it up for yourself. I love you both and he loves us both, so you can have us both.”

Geralt sat up, bringing Eskel with him, then pulled him into a kiss that burned. It was a simple press of their lips together but Eskel felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Oh,” came a quiet voice from the nearby doorway. Jaskier was standing there, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “I’ll just--”

“Stay,” Eskel said, chuckling. He pulled Jaskier down to sit on the flagstones with them. “I think Geralt has something he wants to tell you.”

Geralt looked nervous. He swallowed a couple times, eyes darting over Jaskier’s face. “I...” He said. “Um, what Eskel means is that... um, I”

“Oh you great big oaf,” Eskel said. “Jaskier, he loves you, he’s absolutely mad about you. He just can’t say it because he loves me too and it’s taken him the better part of a century to tell me.”

Jaskier beamed, his blush growing. “And you?” he said.

“I’m not sure I love you yet,” Eskel said. “But I think I will.”

“I think I will too,” Jaskier said, then he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to Eskel’s lips, off center, so it brushed his scar and part of his cheek too. Then he kissed Geralt the same way.

“Aiden’s going to be so pissed that he lost the bet,” Jaskier said, as if he hadn’t just rocked both witchers’ worlds with a mere kiss. “He bet Lambert you wouldn’t figure it out until next week.”

“You knew,” Eskel said, touching the tips of his fingers to where his face was still tingling from the kiss.

“They way Geralt talks about you, well...” Jaskier said, smiling at Geralt. “And then the way you talk about him,” he smiled at Eskel. “And the way you both look at me, I knew. I just wasn’t sure you knew.” His smile shifted into something bashful and a little insecure. It was an odd look on his normally confident face. “And it seemed too much to assume you both would really want me, I’m not all,” he gestured at his shoulders and arms, obviously comparing their builds.

Eskel couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “We don’t care about that,” he said, carding his hand through Jaskier’s hair and revelling in the way the bard leaned into his touch. “I’ve seen Geralt with a face full of pimples, and I mean full, and that was back when he was calling himself Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde. It isn’t about looks.” He trailed his eyes across Jaskier. “And even if it was we wouldn’t find you wanting.”

“He’s right,” Geralt said, pressing a little kiss right behind Jaskier’s ear. “We find nothing about you wanting.”

“You both are going to leave me wanting if you’re not careful,” Jaskier whined, borderline laciviously. He leaned back against Geralt and pulled Eskel closer, kissing Eskel’s cheek chastely in spite of his words. When he turned to kiss Geralt’s cheek too Eskel nuzzled closer, feeling Geralt’s arms pull him into the pair of them.

“You have to promise to write me into your poetry, after all this,” he said.

Jaskier laughed, head tilting back and eyes crinkling at the corners. “As if I haven’t already,” he whispered.

Three months later the great bard Jaskier debuted his latest poetry anthology. Silver and Steel was praised by academics across the continent, although the line about being eaten alive was highly debated. Jaskier’s sudden penchant for high collars might have answered the questions, but he wasn’t about to give away the secret.

#jaskel #geralt x jaskier x eskel #this is stupid but happy #less funny than the first bit #but more cute #the witcher #jaskier is a famous bard #eskel is his fanboy #geralt loves them both very much

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strawberri-blonde · 3 years

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Insecurities - George Weasley

Summary: George gets insecure over Fred and your’s relationship. (Boys are allowed to have feelings too)

Warnings: Angst, and fluff

George watched from afar with his face against the palm of his hand as he saw you and Hermione along with other girls from Gryffindor squeal with glee as his twin pulled a rose from your ear. You didn’t even like roses. They reminded you of funerals. Shaking away his thoughts, the older twin grabbed his books off the table and started towards the door that lead out the Gryffindor common room. “George?” Hearing your voice, the boy haulted in movement but decided to act like he didn’t hear you. “George?” You raced after him with the white rose in hand tugging onto his sleeve. Reluctantly, the boy stopped and turned to face you and once he saw your sweet smile it was hard for the Weasley to be upset. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” With his free hand that wasn’t occupied with books, it went straight towards your waist while you hands gripped onto his biceps.

“I’m sorry, love. You just seemed to busy with Fred and I didn’t want to disturb you.” It wasn’t much of a lie and luckily you fell for it.

You rolled your eyes and pulled onto his tie to bring his lips closer to yours. The kiss didn’t last long but it satisfied both of your needs for now. “I’m never to busy for you.” You pulled away from him and looked at the Rose in disgust. “Plus you know how I feel about roses.” Your whole statement was true but it still didn’t help the insecurities that were running their George’s veins.

Offering you a fake smile to try and push through his feelings George brushed a peice of hair out of your hair towards behind your ear. “And that’s why I know you’re favorite is...” whispering the spell that he created for you, not Fred. The Weasley pulled a flower from your ear. “A lily.” A yelp escaped from you mouth as you handed the rose to a random girl walking by and clenched the white lily close towards your chest.

“Merlin, I love you.” You kissed the Weasley again this time with more aggression. You both moaned into the kiss when a familiar voice broke you up.

“I feel like I should wear protection from just watching this.” The both of you pulled away when you heard Fred’s obnoxious laugh.

“Shut up, Fred.” You rolled your eyes while George sneared at his brother.

“Aw I’m just playing with you love birds.” The other Weasley twin wrapped his arm around your shoulder then George’s. “Did you tell him?” You shook your head while your boyfriends eyes furrowed.

“Tell me what?” George pushed off his brothers arm to look at you both. Fred was smiling along with you.

“I need help with Astronomy and no one is as good as our girl Y/n here.”

“My girl.” George argued by grabbing onto your hands pulling them towards his chest, getting you away from his brother.

“Yeah,” Fred agreed by dropping his hands in his pockets. “So she’s helping me studying tonight because she knows mum will have my head if I fail that class.”

“Why can’t I help you?” Fred and you both laughed at his question.

“Because babe the two of you together will end up with the two of you creating some kind of bomb and not actually work.” You kissed his cheek and walked over to Fred who grabbed your wrist and started to pull you towards the library. “I’ll see you later, love. I love you.”

Lazily, George waved at you. “I love you too.” The older Weasley twin watched as Fred let go of your wrist and pulled you in his chest and squeezed your shoulder mighty tight. They’re just friends. The boy had to say over and over again trying to kill the demons within.

After the first study session, George has notice how closer you and Fred have gotten and his insecurities grew. He couldn’t help but focus on the small touches of the arm or the hidden laughs. The Weasley knew he was crazy to think that maybe the two most important people in his life could betray him but if Hogwarts has taught George anything. It is that anything is possible.

George was getting frustrated as the time passed. The Weasley was waiting on you and his brother but neither of you have shown. The boy clenched his knuckles before sitting up from his chair to head towards the boys wing; but right as his posture straightened he heard your infamous giggle. In a quick fashion, George turned towards the entrance of Gryffindor’s common room to see you and his brother stumbling in filling the room with laughter. “Where were you?” His voice was stone cold making you straighten your posture while Fred continued to laugh.

“I’m sorry, love, but Fred and I-”

“Excalty.” George snapped filling his frustrations spill from his mouth. “You and Fred. Fred and Y/n. What about George and Y/n hmm. Ever think of actually spending time with your boyfriend.” You furrowed your eyebrows not realizing that he was feeling this way.

“George-”

“Bloke,” Fred cut you offf by walked in front of you to pat his brother on the shoulder. “You seriously need to get a grip.” Wrong move, because George pushed Fred resulting in Fred pushing him back and before anything could get worse. You ran over and gripped George’s biceps and in return he cupped your cheeks but then he saw the bruise on the base on your neck. All of the color disappeared from his face and it scared you.

“Love.”

“Where did that bruise come from?” Stepping back you clasped the wound and turned fo Fred. ”That’s what I thought.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “George no it’s not like that.”

“George, I’m your brother. I would never do anything to Y/n.” The Weasley didn’t listen to any of you as he walked past the both of you straight into Fred and his shared room. When you reached for the knob it wouldn’t open.

“Please, George. I love you with everything in me. You’re my my whole world.” Fred tried a spell to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. Letting out a sigh, you leaned against the door with dispair just wanting your man to know the truth. Fred walked over towards the adjacent wall and hit his hand against it before looking down at you.

“This is all my fault. I’ve should’ve known he was feeling like this.” You instantly shook your head.

“It’s both of ours.” The both of you had frowns and tears ready to linger. “Go to Angela. I’ve got this.” Fred let out a sigh and reached down for your hand to which you grabbed and the Weasley boy pulled you into his arms. “Don’t worry, Freddie. I think I can fix this.” Fred relaxed some into your arms, before pulling away to walk down the hall and out the west wing to go towards his new girlfriends dorm room.

Turning towards the wooden door, you pressed your knuckles against it before knocking. “George, please open the door.” Silence still lingered from the other side of the door. “I can show you what happened. I know a spell. You know Fred and I wouldn’t hurt you like that.” You took a deep breath before saying. “Love, I’d rather kill myself.” For a split of a second you thought you heard something shuffling around. Then you heard the noise once more and the sound of George’s voice. He was disarming his protection spell.

You stepped back and couldn’t help but let out a whimper when George opened the door because he still had wet tears on his rosy cheeks. In instinct, you reached up to wipe them, but he rose his arms to stop you. “Just show me.” His harsh words hurt, but you picked up your wand and pressed the tip towards your temporal lobe and whisper a spell. George watched as a elctirc blue mist sprung from your brain and hovered on the tip of your wand. As you brought the wand closer towards his forehead you looked into his eyes for reassurance that he was okay with it and George gave you a slight nod in agreement. Nodding your head in return, you pressed the tip of your wand against his forehead and watched as his eyes flashed a light blue.

—

You sat down in the wooden chair that resigned in the library as you watched Fred stand above you. “I think you’ve probably one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.” You smiled up at him as he twirled the poem book into his hands. “And I was wondering if you’d like to be my girl?” Furrowing you’re eyebrows you kept the smile that lingered even though Fred had broken the sentence up so awkwardly. The Weasley noticed your face and let out a sigh. “I don’t know why I get so weird.” Fred swung the book down towards his side as he continued. “I’m so confident but when it comes to my feelings...”

“You’re rubbish.” You added in resulting in the boy to narrow his eyes.

“Thanks for the notice.” You couldn’t help but laugh making Fred push you slightly. You shoved him off before continuing. “Now if you want to go out with Angela so bad you’re going to have to listen to me or ask for George’s advice.” Fred widen his eyes in terror.

“Oh blimey, I’d rather ask Neville.” You suppressed your laughter by holding a straight face but nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I love him but if I didn’t make the first move, he’d still be lurking from a distance.” Letting a smirk make its way into your face you remembered your first date. “But he does have some moves. Like the flower trick.” Fred nodded sheepishly thinking of at the time he saw George pull that Lilly from your ear. “He invented that all on his own.”

The twin nodded his head. “And when I use it, the ladies love it.” Again you rolled your eyes and closed your book that resigned on the wooden table.

“Just do as I say and give that book of poems to Angela, she likes that muggle arthur.” Fred nodded his head turning around then brought the book up to his face and read the cover again. As he was distracted by the book, he didn’t notice that you stood up from your seat and turned your direction slamming the spine of the book against your neck.

From the pressure of it, your breath was taken from your lungs and you wrapped your hands around your neck while Fred dramatically dropped the book and gripped your biceps in comfort. However, you didn’t want to be touched seeing as you still couldn’t breathe, and pulled away from his grip and took in a staggered breath. “Y/n?” You heart thumped loudly against your chest as Fred took you into his arms again. “Bloody hell, I’m so sorry.”

Hearing the disparity, you coughed a few times then shook your head. “We don’t tell George about this.” You gently rubbed over your wound as Fred kneaded you’re back. “He’ll kill you.”

George let out a gasp as the memory faded. His heart raced in his chest like yours had earlier and his neck tingled in pain. However, his throat clenched and tears formed as his mind had those horrible thoughts again. How could he be so stupid. “Love.” Relief washed over your features and you rushed into his arms, letting the boy cry into you shoulder while you cried into his chest. “I’m so sorry Y/n.” You held onto him pushing at him some, guiding your bodies onto his red sheets. Once George had sat down you sat beside him and planted your legs into his lap and cupped his face to brush off his tears. “Love, I’m so sorry.” You let him repeat his apologies a few more times before you kissed his forehead and then his lips to silent his cries.

“Don’t feel sorry, Georgie. You’re allowed to get insecure,” you kissed him again. “But it’s important that you don’t hold it in again.” Looking into each other eyes you continued. “Do you understand?” The Weasley didn’t respond so you pressed the issue. “George, do you understand?” Swiping away the rest of his tears, George nodded his head then placed a hand onto your thigh and one behind your back. Taking your time you smoothed out his long apricot locks, getting the loose strays away from his hazel eyes. Your touched soothed the boy calming his nerves.

“I love you.” You smiled at his words and leaned in to steal one more kiss.

“I love you more.” Your foreheads leaned on one another as you both forgot about the world. Pulling at the roots, you pressed your lips onto his hairline and stood up to change into one of his sweatshirts. “Now let’s get some rest because tomorrow we’re going to have a Georgie and Y/n/n day.” The Weasley smiled at your words and stood up to help fix the sweatshirt that kept wanting to fall off your shoulder.

“I’d like that.” You smiled up at him and stood on your tippy toes and when you looked up, the red mark on your neck ached. George’s eyes filled with sorrow and he kissed the wound making your breath hitch in pleasure. “You were right about one thing?” Raising your eyebrows in response, the Weasley twin continued. “I’m going to kill Fred.”

#george weasley #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #hogwarts imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #weasley twins #george weasley imagine

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lluvguts · 3 years

Text

═ ∘♡༉∘ ═ fragile havens ; luberto ═ ∘♡༉∘ ═

♡ ♡ ♡

⇒ fluff. it's all fluff. alberto is trans in this one ; and luca is a desperate pining mess pulling a poetic bitch move tryna be cute.

⇒ for the wonderful @quillsandspilledink just 'cause :)

⇒ word count ; 727

⇒ leave a comment on my ao3 IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS KINDA STUFF LEMME KNOW <3333

♡ ♡ ♡

"Give it up, Lu. Please sleep. You're keeping me awake." Alberto's sleepy voice, rough around the edges, brushing his shoulder against Luca's side making him flush red. The pad of his finger paused it's slow crescent marking Alberto's bare neck, just below the soft curls of hair dark in the night, there.

"I'm just--" Luca blinks in the navy blue blanket of the night around them, his lashes blurring Alberto's slumped frame inches from his face. Before he could think up a good excuse to whisper back into the cold bedroom, he was asleep.

Asleep the whole night, minutes that could swell and stretch into long, blissful hours of silence filled with the smell of Alberto's shampoo. The warm light from the digital clock on Alberto's side of the bed cast red beams over the back of his head, and shoulders, twinkling amber and deepest crimson along his soft tan skin.

The perfect time to memorize that boy lying next to him.

Can we just be two stars, dancing around the moon that is our love?

He was just so beautiful. Luca was unable to use any other adjectives to ascertain what was burning in his stomach, his cheeks, his very toes. Any poem, a piece of writing, would never do Alberto justice.

Here, and only here. Well, Luca could be with Alberto any place; touch and savor his skin like a Greek statue, feel the grooves of scar tissue along his chest and exposed arms, a painting with texture, with love. But this was besides (and maybe part of) the point. Here, hidden behind too-hot covers and the thick film of nighttime quiet, there was love.

With Alberto snoring quietly, his face pressed into their shared pillow, Luca cuddled closer and let his hand resume it's slow pace, tracing cherished constellations of freckles, from shoulder blade to perfect shoulder blade. Luca didn't feel himself grinning but his lips were starting to ache from the way that they were two strings, two beings of light, he needed to kiss him. He needed to be attached at the hip, wrap his arms around him, closer and closer and never ever leave. He flattened his hand against the small of Alberto's back, wearing a baggy t-shirt, his fingers feeling only his firm muscles beneath. He'd taken his binder off, and Luca's smile widened at that. He skimmed his hand over in comforting circles along the free skin, and Alberto grumbled something in dreamy response into the bedsheets.

"Amante, will you ever get rest?"

"I don't need to sleep. I've got you here," Luca whispered against Alberto's arm, pressing his lips to the hem of his shirtsleeve.

Alberto's hand snaked out from underneath him and he cradled Luca's head to his chest. "Always the romantic, huh Lu?"

"I can't help it," Luca nosed into his throat, breathing deeply and sweetly. He was such a dream, it was like he wasn't even real. But he was holding Luca tight, with sure, strong arms, so he must be here, and not a fading half-dream. "You're just so...so safe. I want every piece of you. And I don't want to forget."

Luca's hand drew Alberto into his smaller frame curled around him, pinching the fabric of his shirt.

"You're being dramatic, tesoro."

"I'm being thorough," Luca sniffed, but shyly took his time moving his hand from Alberto's back to his hair, and the taller boy hummed in contented pleasure. Alberto faded back to sleep with Luca's hand to the crown of his head, whispering things soft at his temple, his favorite spot, he couldn't stop peppering his face in feathery kisses.

Just take my hand, and we'll skip along the planets around us, our audience. Saturno to dust our feet off, and Venere to remind us to kiss, to laugh.

I want to hold you here, keep you here.

I want to know what you look like when you're away, on a boat trip or delivering orders. Here I am, recalling each line of your body, I need no key, no map. You're my map, my home.

Is there a way to love someone, not just for their tired smiles and the lines around their lips, memories of their joy?

I'll last as long as you do. Let us burn away into the sun someday, still loving. Then--I'd never truly die.

#luberto #luca movie #luca fanfic #luberto oneshot #luberto fluff #luberto fanfic #luberto fanfiction #luca paguro #alberto scorfano #alberto x luca #luca 2021 #luca fandom #alberluca #luca and alberto #gay fish boys #lgbt fanfic

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mallowstep · 3 years

Note

I’m thinking about writing a short OC piece about Windclan and I’d love to see your notes about its culture and the hymns you’ve written so far, everything you’ve done for Windclan appreciation month has really inspired me :)

hello anon!

alright, first things first: please send me ur piece when ur done if you're comfortable doing so! i will publish it from you, or if you don't want to be associated with it in Any Way, i will also just read it and add it to the queue with no indication why it's there. or if you don't want me to share it at all, i'd still like to read it.

as for your ask,

hymns?

i'm working on it. however, underneath the read more, i'll include a few snippets for u.

culture

alright, i'm just going to post links with some commentary as i go. feel free to ask any more questions you have.

windclan (search) | windclan (tag) | wcam tag | five clans (narrative essays)

i would link the elders den, but there's no windclan stories in there ATM.

moving on, i'm just going to go through posts in reverse chronological order.

tallstar taking a mate admittedly, this is more about cats and sexuality than windclan, but i provide the commentary that windclan...has a particular view on sexuality and fluidity. one thing i haven't explored but should is the role visiting cats have in windclan.

whoops that's a code word, my plug for solacefruit has been activated. okay, as you may be aware, based on the fact that i have a whole tag for it, i'm obsessed with solacefruit. now, i love everything they do, but i would like to point you particularly to "make a mighty sound" for a fantastic exploration of this idea.

i don't want to spoil anything, but i do think windclan, and maybe cats as a whole, but windclan has a certain view towards relationships that very much breaks them into pieces. i'm a "love is a verb" person, so the idea that you can grow to love someone romantically by going through the actions of love makes sense. not to say you will, but you can.

(to be clear i'm not out advocating for arranged marriages just saying that they can work, they're not destined to be bad, and there's a difference between forced marriage and arranged marriage.)

anyway.

this was a lot of words to say, cats do not have a human (and particularly, western/american) understanding of relationships, which makes analyzing them in those terms difficult.

early hymn talk i'll probably say more below, but it is here.

general ibtwicm notes might get you into the headspace for some of my choices in ibtwicm.

i don't have a ton to say because this pretty much all holds, but uh, yeah.

poetry and language this isn't strictly about windclan, but it does explain some of what i think about when writing hymns.

obviously, i'm writing english translations, but these general themes are what i have in mind. it's also part of why i say i don't think i'll ever release a "full hymnal" for windclan, because i don't know if my weak worldbuilding heart could take it if i only had translations.

names part two very much not about windclan, but just some thoughts on names. as i've said before, i support all names and worldbuilding equally, but if you want my thoughts on names, go buckwild.

clan culture fic rec list just stuff i think does a good job, if you want other sources of inspiration.

general clan culture notes this is really old, but it mostly holds.

i've obviously expanded a lot on windclan since i wrote it, so shrug? idk man.

alright, i'm going to move into hymn discussion below the cut, but best of luck! and i hope u have a good time. it makes my brain shut down to read that i inspired you, straight up got brain juice pouring out of my ears, but i'm really, really happy to hear that.

windclan holds a special place in my heart. (i know my oc avatar is from skyclan shhh it's because of the backstory he sees ghosts.) but i grew up in this super sporty household as a lil asthmatic klutz, and running was a sport i couldn't mess up, so of course windclan appealed to me.

they're actually third on my list of favorite clans, but they. it's a special place in my heart that they hold, especially after reading dawn of the clans and moth flight's vision, where i got an asthmatic cat and an adhd cat, both in windclan.

god i should reread dotc it's good.

alright, here's the deal on hymns: i am not going to fight to get duets to post correctly. there's a 0% chance i can in tumblr's wonky ass new editor with no markdown, not to mention how difficult it would have been in the old editor. so i'm going to talk a lil about what i've got, and post some stanzas that i think don't get explored a lot in ibtwicm.

we're discussing these in the order that they go in. a reminder that these are all sections of one epic poem. that said, i don't know where the gaps are. like, i don't know what's between these, if that makes sense.

the wind

the wind, the very first hymn. this is an ode to, well, windclan. it's a song about everything that makes them them. it's filled with poetry about the wind, about the seasons, and it's just...well, it's a bit of a genesis, in a way.

The wind — like the rain, like the river — calls the name of each star in its breath. The wind — like the earth, like the stone — anchors us to our home. The wind — like the sun, like the sky — is knowable only by name.

i wanted to share this stanza because the last line doesn't show up in ibtwicm (at least so far, i cut the reference), and it really, really, makes a difference imo.

anyway, windclan is basically tying the wind in with every other fundamental part of their life here.

they are the wind, and that's that.

the hare

okay, this one has a line that comes up a lot in ch1, but i already talked about that, so instead, i'm going to talk about this stanza

Speak of the earth and the dens, and you will be answered: By the call of the howling gales, the open earth singing in response. But speak of that which grows above, of the grass and field, And you will be answered by the softness of the buds and the roots.

okay, we get deadfoot thinking about this when he's talking to yellowfang.

i like this stanza because it really tells us what the hare is about. now, hares are not something windclan catches. hares are huge, y'all, there's no way they take one down. i take liberties with ecology, but not that many.

(i.e., a team of cats definitely could take one down, but i know too much, and would prefer letting team hunting stay a plot thing, and not fundamentally alter the environment in the way it would.)

now anyway, all of these hymns come from the time of the tunnelers. and the point of this is, even though the work of tunnelers and moor runners is disconnected, they fundamentally affect each other.

a moor runner must trust the hollows of the earth beneath them won't collapse, and a tunneler must trust that the prey they chase up will be caught.

it's all very symbiotic and is, well, in a way, a love poem. plus i really like the line "the open earth singing in response"

of the warrens

so this has one line, one you might not even know is a hymn, in ch1, but i'll share the whole stanza.

And as for the subject of fallow fields: Fallowed fields make for hungry prey, Yet hungry prey makes desperate rabbits, Who leap into our claws.

and ig my big point is, the hymns are a cultural artifact. just like many of the rules in the old testament have to do with hygiene things being codified into religion, this whole hymn is about hunting advice.

the moon on the river

okay, out of all the hymns, this is the most complete, and because ashfoot and deadfoot sing it together, and deadfoot discusses it, i only have one stanza to share.

Under the coldness, you shine back at me, And I do everything to keep the clouds from threatening you.

now, this poem is about love, grief, and being separated. it's a particular kind of grief, and windclan discourages grief, so this is one of only a few ways to really, fully express it.

and this section, in particular, is about love in times of hardship.

i don't have. a lot to say here. but the way hardship changes how you love someone can be particular and intense.

(temporarily, this happens sometime before "Spare for my chosen few / All I have is given towards the distant ground.")

the gorse in the wind

oh shit! i have so fucking much to say okay first.

the series title does not come from this hymn.

second, this is a challenging hymn okay. fuck. i have so much to say. where to start so! moors are actually relatively wet. think british countryside, not, like, a cool desert.

this is something i always knew? i read the secret garden a lot as a kid. but. i've seen stuff about moors being dry, and it's just one of those things that really...starts to eat under your skin. anyway.

okay, so. gorse is a dry plant. it does not like rain. it grows in sandy soil, etc etc, and yet. aside from everything we know about gorse and warriors, it also grows in this moor. because i say so.

okay, so. so so so. the lines quotes here are really deceptive, and i bet no one understood why, and that makes me just a little sad, but i couldn't find a good way to explain it in text, so uh, yeah, anyway. there's an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot: "THE GORSE: You called me the heather and I grew stronger. / THE WIND: I called you the heather and brought rain for you to grow."

so...so do you see? do you see the point? it's about communication, needs, challenging each other. fadskj;l i love this. okay, so. the point is that heather is fragile, soft, pretty, and gorse is the opposite. the part of the wind is trying to be kind and complimentary, but the gorse is saying, fuck that, you are not being kind to me by undercutting my strength.

anyway, this passage is sung by the gorse:

In what good company have I set down roots, That even through snow fall I flower. You called me the heather and yet I've weathered, Far more than your sweet-named love.

so uh, yeah, this adds context. gorse! gorse is a hardy plant that continues to flower basically all season round. it's cool. it's cool. gorse is super cool. fuuuck y'all it's such a small thing and i've contained talking about it until now, but now it's too much. the floodgates are open, and i thought about this small detail too much.

okay. deep breath. gorse is a really easy plant to grow, but it's still adapted for dry environments. so the "even through snow fall I flower" part is a little tongue in cheek: gorse itself will flower in the cold, but snow is a type of precipitation, which as we've covered, is not gorse friendly.

then we have some rhyming and puns in the next line, and finally, "yet I've weathered, / Far more than your sweet-named love." like. yes. love as a form of softness is not necessarily helpful.

i mean, consider the damaging "soft trans boi" problem. same energy.

right. okay. so we've got all that? now if you remember, this is sung when deadfoot thinks ashpaw doesn't respect him, and ashpaw says she'll sing with him if she can sing the gorse, so in essence, she's telling him...not to back off, per se, but that...she is the "hard part" of the relationship. like, okay, i refuse to even bring up gender roles in human relationships, but uh, her point is very much, "i am the gorse, and you are the wind," and it's a very monumental moment.

it's anchored, i believe, in the other scenes, but this is a small thing that matters a lot to me.

like a lot.

okay, now that i've talked about like four lines for the length of this entire post, moving on.

the heather and earth

okay, this is the last hymn i have in concrete terms, and i cut a bit of it from the latest chapter, so yeah. it's also, uh, okay everything i have for it is only a line or two, but i wanted to share this closing line (sung together):

Sing a song of forgiveness, of growing together, and we will make madness, And madness from hence will everything beautiful grow.

and i just like these lines. they got cut, it was initially part of an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot, but i can't share the part of it they talk about, because i'm reusing it for a later chapter and i'll 100% spoil shit if i try to talk about it.

but these lines? mmm they speak to me.

i don't have a ton to say about them, but i just. i like it.

if we apply the same ecology discussion from the gorse and the wind, we see heather is a plant that grows in acidic, infertile soil, and heath (which is not the same as a heather, but also kind of is) is a defining quality of heathland, which is...i'm not kidding, it's hot discourse about the difference between moorland and heathland.

i'm not getting involved, but my point is, if the gorse in the wind is a hymn about finding a working relationship, about mutual respect, etc., then the heather and earth is a hymn about working well together in a terrible situation.

god.

uh, wow! can you tell i like plants? because while parts of my ecology are dubious (see: everything regarding the rabbits in ch1), the plants part are well thought out. this shit is carefully detailed metaphor.

and that's why i won't be releasing a full hymnal. it's hard to as on top of this as i want to be. i'm not kidding, writing even four lines of a hymn usually takes me about twenty minutes, because i pull up a lot of research about how things work, how they interact with each other, etc., and then there's wordsmithing, cat worldview filter, etc.

but i hope this overview of what i've got is a good insight into my general thoughts. and i will eventually release more and more of the hymns i've got written.

#ask #anon #mine #txt #windclan #wcam #essay #long #warriors #warriors worldbuilding #windclan hymn project #mateo fanboying over solacefruit again

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sxfterhearts · 4 years

Text

35. [4:28 pm]

➳ pairing: youngjae x reader

➳ genre/warnings: fluff, royal!au, prince!youngjae, lady!reader

➳ word count: 1,496 words

➳ summary: 35. “After you.”

➳ author's note: hello angels! i’m so so sorry for my recent absence, uni has been really busy. here is a youngjae fluff to make up for it! this is my first time writing this au so i’m excited to share this! it was a lot of fun and i got really inspired by nbtm + the wildflowers i saw on my trip :)) have a nice day and week lovelies <333

“After you,” Youngjae said breezily, a royal blue, satin covered arm coming up to brush a stray branch aside, clearing the path ahead for you.

“No,” You shook your head with a faux frown, refusing. “After you, Your Royal Highness.” Insistently, you rooted your leather high boots firmly onto the ground, not moving an inch.

“C'mon, Y/N!” He sighed exasperatedly, dramatically. Youngjae always harboured a burning hatred for formalities. “I know you liked our old spot at the top of the hill, but I swear you’ll love this place even better. I just want to show you a part of this kingdom that you’ve never seen before!” A glint of excitement flashed across your eyes at the mention of exploring another corner of his family’s vast lands. Sensing that you were about to cave to his request, the Prince hastily interlocked your fingers with his, guiding you through the dense forest just beyond the edge of the Royal Gardens. “Besides, as your host, I ought to bring you someplace that didn’t make you sneeze your brains out every other minute. The canola fields have triggered your allergies ever since you were a child.” Youngjae added.

“But I like the canola!”

Youngjae scrunched up his nose in distaste. “Well, I certainly don’t like explaining to your maids why their precious Lady turned into a swollen, slimy tomato by the end of our evening together and–”

“Okay, fine!” You squeezed his hand to signal your defeat. He couldn’t see your resigned, dejected look, the one that you wore every time he won an argument, but if he did, you’d bet on every single horse in your stables that he would clutch his stomach and double over in boisterous laughter. “You’ve said enough. Point taken.”

Satisfied, the Prince continued to lead you further into the forest. His pleasing, melodic whistles (charming renditions of folk songs, you supposed) were in harmony with the tunes of the lively forest. Your ears could easily pick up on the airy whispers of rustling leaves, the sweet sopranos of chirping birds and the trickling stream singing in an allegro tempo. It was shaping up to be quite an orchestra, with the one and only Youngjae taking centre stage as both lead singer and conductor.

Throughout the far-reaching kingdom ruled by the Choi dynasty, Youngjae was known as the precious youngest son of the reigning monarchs. The boy made quite a name of himself by gracing those around him with his sunshine smile and bright personality. There were even poems and songs written about the Prince’s ability to shine his brilliant light onto his people’s lives. Many claimed that the Prince had a heart of pure gold, as he would often roam beyond the gates of the Palace, interacting with the locals by personally buying his art supplies from the markets, painting murals and paintings for the young and old, and lending a hand whenever a carriage got stuck in mud or when an old grandpa strained himself while moving large crates of vegetables. The people often muttered under their breaths about how it was such a shame that Youngjae had little chance of claiming the throne, for he was the last in line after his elder siblings. But the Youngjae you knew and grew up with had never set his sights on being King. Ever since spending that first summer in the Palace with his eleven-year-old self, you were certain that he was meant for even greater things. Youngjae loathed politics and diplomacies. He hated pretending like someone he wasn’t, just for the sake of strengthening relations and maintaining peace. All Youngjae wanted to do was to live a carefree life and practice his art.

“We’re nearly there, My Lady,” Youngjae chirped in his best impression of a maid. “Just have to cross this tiny little stream.” The young royal came to a halt before the gushing stream, his free arm circling around your waist securely.

Your mouth went dry in an instant. The body of water a few steps ahead of you seemed like anything but a tiny little stream; it was fervently licking at the banks, swallowing and chomping up any leaf or branch or insect that stood in its way. You were deafened by the relentless roars of rapidly flowing water, causing you to shrink into his side in search of safety. Petrified, you glanced upwards at the Prince, shaking your head slowly to get your point across. You did not like this, not at all.

“I know you’re scared, Y/N, but I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me. I’ll hold onto you so tightly that we’ll be stuck together like two peas in a pod.”

“But I… I don’t…”

“You’ll never get hurt, not on my watch.” Youngjae declared resolutely. He knew; he could tell from your shallower breaths and widening pupils that you were afraid of falling in, just like you did five summers ago. You and your brother loved spending time within the Palace’s walls, but you had taken a special liking towards the koi pond right at the heart of the Royal Gardens. Each summer when you returned to the Palace from your home in the Northern Lands, the trees and the flowers and the design of the Gardens would change beyond recognition. The pond was the only thing that remained untouched, year after year.

You used to love sitting by the edges and feeding the koi fishes or testing out your paper boats with Youngjae and your brother. You could stay there for ages, from sunrise until sundown. That is, until you accidentally tripped into the pond and nearly drowned. After that, you avoided it like the plague.

“If you’re really not comfortable with this, we can turn around, no big deal.” Youngjae reminded you in the gentlest voice he could muster. The stream was barely a meter wide, with a large sturdy rock smack bang in its centre, but he knew; he could feel the hesitation radiating off your skin. He was aware of how the minutes seemed to drag into hours as you gasped for air that afternoon, your feet straining and struggling to reach the bottom. Youngjae knew that the memory still haunted you.

Your clammy hands clawed onto his back, your fingernails leaving deep imprints through his luxurious tunic. Sensing his eagerness to show you this new hideout of his, you tried your best to swallow your fears and gave him a slight nod.

“You sure? We really don’t have to.”

“I swear, Choi Youngjae,” You whispered impatiently. “If you don’t move right now, I’m going to change my mind.”

He chuckled at that, all melodious and warm. His laughter felt like a blast of sunshine on a cool spring day, which did wonders to ease your nerves. He wasted no time in holding you close to his chest, similar to how you would position yourselves when dancing side by side in the Palace’s ballroom. “It’s a lot like dancing, really.” Youngjae said, inching towards the very edge of the stream. “You just have to coordinate your steps with mine. We’ve done this before a million times. Now, right foot, oh yes, your right. Okay, ready? Take a big step and –”

Your feet moved in perfect unison. The two of you arrived on the rock in the blink of an eye. “We made it.” You breathed out in disbelief.

Youngjae simply cradled you snugly in his arms for several moments. You relished in the immeasurable amount of security you felt being with him, while he grinned smugly at the sight of you finally overcoming your fear. “I told you so,” He pressed his lips against your ear and whispered.

The rest of the journey only took another five minutes. Before you knew it, you arrived at a small yet breathtaking clearing in the forest. The ground was decorated with a plethora of wildflowers emerging amongst tall grass, specks of white and gold and pink everlastings flooding your entire vision. In the middle of the clearing sat a large rock and a fallen trunk, the ideal place to sit down, catch your breath and take in the wondrous scenery.

Which was exactly what you and Youngjae did for the rest of the late afternoon. You drank from your flask of elderflower cider while inhaling the fragrant, floral perfumes surrounding you; Youngjae chewed on the end of his sketching pencil while also crafting a rough sketch of you in his notebook, resting on the trunk. You laughed and you talked, all while sharing a loaf of buttered rosemary bread you swiped from the kitchens this morning.

Much to your pleasant surprise, you didn’t let out a single sneeze. Not even when Youngjae passed you his sketch for your inspection and placed a white flower behind your ear. This was exactly why he brought you here, he claimed.

He was right. As it turned out, you loved this place the most.

56 notes · View notes

wenttworth · 4 years

Text

growth;

Jon said Martin's name in a wide variety of ways since they met. All of them had done something to those nervous butterflies in the pit of his stomach, from killing them off slowly to sending them to a wild frenzy.

Although they first woke several months ago now, they were no closer to relaxing like they had for any of Martin's other crushes. Martin had taken one look at the small man stood in front of him, dark eyebrows furrowed over dark eyes, slightly greying hair to his shoulders tucked artlessly behind one ear, clocked the colourful stains on his fingernails that came from scrubbing at them with cheap nail varnish remover, and had been overwhelmed for more than the time it took to finish the conversation. He'd never met anyone before who quite so markedly ticked every box of 'his type'.

This way just made Martin spring into action.

"Oh, that's his 'spiders, Martin' call," he muttered.

Tim grinned at him as he leapt to his feet. "We could always lock him in there with it," he said. Sasha snorted and Tim leant forward to prop his chin on his hands. "Maybe he'd die of fright. It would lend more credence to some of these tales." Shaking a statement derisively as he fixed his eyes on Martin's.

"Martin." A slightly more panicked Jon called from his office.

"It's not fair to play with people's phobias," Martin said. Tim just kept smiling at him.

Jon was stood back from his desk, anxiously staring at a tape recorder, upon which an impressively large spider was sat. Well, large by British standards.

Martin was well used to this process by now. He calmly scooped the spider into his hands and pointedly did not look at Jon as he scurried away from him.

Jon only relaxed when Martin had thrown the spider out. "Okay?" Martin asked.

Jon stared at him for a moment, before giving an abrupt nod.

His hands were shaking, and there was a pale undertone to his brown skin which worried Martin more than it ought. "Do you want some tea?" he continued gently.

Jon blinked. "Please," he said. "Thank you, Martin."

The butterflies flurried to life.

"I have a crush on Jon," Martin announced, louder than he should, with more certainty than he could have mustered four drinks ago.

Sasha made a face halfway between pity and a grimace. A pitying grimace? That was an oxymoron, surely. "Martin, you can do so much better than Jon."

Sasha didn't know about his forged CV, and Martin pointedly did not think about it, did not look down at his body that had never felt right, did not think about anything but the thankful smile Jon had given him when he had passed him his tea. "You got that the..." he swung an index finger left and right. "You got that the wrong way round."

Sasha sighed, and sighed even louder when Tim dropped between them and immediately swung his arms around both their shoulders. But she still smiled at him with something that, though not love, was something still close. "Am I interrupting?" he asked. Martin shook his empty beer bottle.

"I just thought we should invite Jon to some of these evenings," Sasha chirped.

Tim didn't seem convinced, and Martin very carefully sent her a glare. There was no way Tim hadn't picked up on his crush on Jon, but he still wanted to maintain some illusion of self-prepossession, and had enough pride to not want to admit it. "He's our boss now, Sash. It would be weird."

"Just remember that he has no firing power. Whatever we say or--" teasingly meaningful look at Martin, "--or do, he can't do anything about it."

Martin squinted at her as Tim protested between them. “We can’t go out with our boss, Sash. That makes it a work thing.”

Martin would much rather Sasha and Tim not come to an evening with Jon, but that was frankly a little rude to say when they had known him much longer.

“Next thing you know she’ll be inviting Elias.”

Martin shuddered and Sasha smacked Tim over the head.

“Please don’t,” Martin insisted. “He was so weird about Jon’s cake; it made me feel way too uncomfortable.”

Sasha cackled, “The boss with an insatiable thirst for cake,” she boomed in a voice that wouldn’t be out of place in an action movie trailer voiceover.

“What will he eat--”

“No, consume, Tim.”

“Oh, good idea! What will he consume next?!” he continued in an imitation of the voice, only marginally more impressive.

“Don’t,” Martin begged, but he still laughed.

There was something...unnerving about being in the institute alone after dark.

Less unnerving than being stuck in his apartment, only his overactive imagination and the handful of paperbacks for company, an eldritch entity with worms for fingers, hair, guts tapping at the door and tempting him to join her embrace.

He would be so loved, she had insisted. So adored, held in the grasp of a million creatures, a part of something so much bigger than just him. Thank anyone who listened that he had a horror for anything that writhed.

He tried to scare himself sometimes, to relieve the boredom between gaps of writers’ block. Moving a torch so the beam threw uncanny, elongated figures a shadow against the wall. Creeping through the hallways and muttering horror stories under his breath. His poems took on a decidedly spooky feeling, less purple prose about the rain in the city, the warmth of someone’s touch. He would wait until everyone, even Jon and Elias, had left to twist his way through the halls, watching for any small, wriggling worms to crush with triumph against the floor.

At least, until tonight.

He was sure someone was creeping around, too. Sticking to the shadows and tapping slow rhythms against the hardwood floors. He always seemed to just catch their shadow as they disappeared around a corner. It took only an hour of building up his nerves, pushing the horror narrative that was constructing itself in his brain, before Jon appeared in the kitchen.

Martin immediately poured boiling water over his hand, yelping as it burned.

“Martin!” Jon exclaimed, rushing forwards to inspect the burn and quickly dragged him to the sink, shoving his hand over a jet of cold water.

“Is it you who’s been creeping around here all evening?” Martin asked, more than a little snippy from the pain in his hand.

“Creeping?” Jon exclaimed, annoyed and indignant. “I haven’t been creeping anywhere, I was walking around the institute!”

“Yes, but quietly. I thought Jane had come back!”

Jon’s furrowed brow relaxed, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was here.” It was a moment later that he let go of Martin’s hand, pointedly ordered him to stay where he was and informed him that he was going to locate a first aid kit.

It made Martin feel uncomfortable, in all honesty. He didn’t want to be taken care of by Jon. By all accounts, it should be the other way around. There was no reason for Jon to be in the institute outside of a normal work day. There was no reason for him to be anywhere but at home. Martin should insist. Should urge him to leave.

The selfishness was stronger this time. He didn’t want to be alone here. Not when everything was so uncertain.

He watched the water fall and drip around his hand. It was already blistering, even under the cold. That would hurt tomorrow; it was his dominant hand.

“C’mere,” a soft voice said behind him. Martin turned--Jon was like an assassin when he was barefoot-- and held out his free hand for the first aid kit. Jon frowned at him. “Don’t be stupid; I’ll put the cream on.”

Martin could only be relieved that he was too gobsmacked to blush as Jon took his hand with a gentleness that struck him speechless, and with soft fingers--thin and small against his hand--rubbed the cream in small circles until it absorbed. He cut out a small bandage after, placing it against the burn with even more gentle movements. “You should be more careful, Martin,” he said.

Martin was still speechless, sat at the break room table as Jon finished up making the tea Martin had started and brought it to him. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Uh…” Martin stammered. Maybe it was something about the evening light that softened Jon so much, something about the casual, comfortable clothes he wore, his hair in a dishevelled bun on top of his head. “No. I was going to make some ramen.”

Jon wrinkled his nose at the instant ramen packet that had been left on the side ready for his dinner. “No you’re not,” he replied. “I have enough for the two of us; I’ll make us something.”

“Really?” Martin asked, a little disbelieving.

“What?” Jon barked, squaring his shoulders.

“I… I didn’t expect it, is all.”

“Oh.” He relaxed again. “It would be rude to just make something for myself.”

“Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here?”

Jon let out a sigh. “It’s...I’m worried. I don’t know when Jane will reappear, and every time I leave the office or my flat I’m looking over my shoulder to see if she’s coming after me. At least here I know I can…” he trailed off. “I feel safer here? Or at least, like I have more control.”

“Where are you planning on sleeping?” Martin asked. Maybe a bit forward to tell him that he didn’t mind if Jon wanted to share the cot. There was probably just enough space for the two of them, and it wasn’t as if he’d never shared a bed with a friend before. Just never with a friend he had such a strong crush on.

Jon started clattering around the tiny kitchenette, pulling spices from the cupboards and vegetables from the fridge. “I set up another cot in my office,” he answered. Martin made to join him to help with preparing the vegetables, but Jon waved him away insistently. “I’m doing this, you’re hurt, Martin.”

So instead he watched as Jon’s practiced hands pulled the ingredients together, a heavenly aroma coming from the pot. He was more relaxed than Martin had ever seen him, going so far as to hum a tune under his breath and laugh at some of the things Martin observed. What resulted was remarkable; Martin had never had the time or patience to cook anything other than the bare minimum. Whatever dishes he may have learnt from his mother were made impossible when she fell ill, his father’s spiced curries a faded memory long in the distance. If Martin remembered rightly and trusted his nose, it wasn’t far from what Jon was cooking.

The selection that was placed in front of him would have made a king’s mouth water.

“Who taught you to cook like that?” Martin asked, wondering and almost swooning when he tasted some.

Jon watched him for a moment, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips before joining him. “My grandmother. She lived in Bangladesh until she was in her forties, and never adapted her cooking to the UK.”

“Which I can only thank her for now,” Martin replied.

“She taught me from a very young age. I think I was cooking curries before I could read.”

There was a fondness in his voice that made Martin’s chest ache. Jon loved his grandmother, that much was certain.

Would he have felt any differently, had he had any connection to his father?

Jon was furrowing his brow at the menu above the counter. “Do you want your usual?” Martin asked.

He blinked. “I wanted to try something different but… I forgot my glasses.”

“Oh.” He cast a glance at the board again. The writing was large, easy for Martin to read even from the other side of the restaurant. “You… you really are blind, aren’t you?” he added.

Jon glowered. “I didn’t choose to be.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Jon replied immediately. The butterflies leapt into action at just how confidently he said it, the confused twist of his mouth as if he were also surprised by the confidence of his reply. A small pause, and he turned away, pressing his lips together.

Martin copied him, half to hide the blush that was very obviously painting his cheeks, probably clashing something awful with the pink shirt he’d had the lack of foresight to wear. “Okay,” he said carefully, pushing down on any waver to his voice.

“For this, at least,” Jon added nonchalantly, a careful smile in his voice.

“Flatterer,” Martin muttered.

He picked two of the sandwiches and carried them both back to a table, Jon trailing behind. “We’re not going back to the office?” he asked.

“No,” Martin said, with a confidence he barely felt. “I could do with a break from that place.”

Jon sank into his seat, watching Martin as he cut both sandwiches in half and split them. “It’s almost Christmas, so I went for the Christmas flavours,” he explained.

“I… I don’t celebrate Christmas,” Jon said.

Martin shrugged. “I know. Neither do I; I just enjoy British Christmas dinners.” He didn’t seem entirely convinced, and Martin hid a smile. “The other one is spiced lamb.”

“Oh,” Jon said with a much happier tone, picking up one of the sandwiches and digging in.

“So?” Martin asked once they were on their way back to the Institute.

“The Christmas one was good,” Jon admitted, only with a little reticence. “Still preferred the lamb, though.”

It could have been minutes or days that Martin and Tim were sat in the corridors. The walls changed sometimes, varying from one garish pattern to the next, undulating in impossible fractals. It had been giving Martin a headache, but now?

Well, he was used to it, he supposed.

Tim had his head on Martin’s lap, humming a song under his breath that seemed repetitive but forever changing. The sound bounced off the walls almost visibly, as if the waves were making the fractals warp. The horrific silhouette of the entity was still watching them, impossibly long limbs and fingers that reached like willow branches.

“Kinda wish it would do something,” Martin said.

It shook its hands and Martin snorted.

“What?” Tim asked. Martin gestured to the silhouette. “Ah. Yes, I know what you mean.” Sitting up, he patted his hair until it was back to the artlessly dishevelled look he usually sported. “Should we go for another walk? Maybe we’ll find the exit this time.”

The laugh the entity gave grated like a spoon against a china cup, nails on a blackboard, a knife on a metal sheet. Martin clenched his jaw as it made his teeth ache. “Sure,” he said, brushing himself off as he stood up.

It didn’t seem like the entity moved, but somehow it was always in the corner of his vision whenever he scanned for it. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that whatever it was, it was dangerous, but that was the thing about fear, wasn’t it? When repetitive, it lost its hold on you. He and Tim had been here for hours or days or years, he was accustomed to it now. If it was planning on killing him, surely it would’ve happened by now.

Also at this point he would welcome death just to escape the maddening boredom.

The corridors circled, never changing angle, no slope, but somehow never doubling back on itself. The light was always different, the fractals and colours shifting and undulating maddeningly.

Hours, days? Maybe decades at this point, Martin sat. Tim joined him after tapping on a wall and a mirror. “Hey, it’s like one of those funhouse mirrors!” he exclaimed.

“Are you sure that’s not just you?” Martin said, warbling his voice mockingly. The entity was still observing them, the glint of a wide, unnaturally white smile made of sharp teeth.

“Excuse you, I am unbelievably attractive,” Tim said, dropping to the floor. He was lounging against the wall, arms crossed over his stomach, his legs comfortably settling against Martin’s.

“Urgh,” Martin grunted. “I can’t believe I have to be stuck here with you, of all people. Wish it was…” he trailed off. “Wish it was Sasha,” he continued. “Or Sasha as we thought--”

“Don’t,” Tim interrupted, all teasing vanished from his voice. “I can’t think about that here and now, okay? And we can’t…” he gestured at the entity, who chuckled. “Not in front of that thing. I know it hasn’t hurt us yet but honestly? It’s only a matter of time.”

“Okay,” Martin said.

“And at least you’re not stuck here with Elias and his--”

“Insatiable thirst for cake,” Martin continued, joining in Tim’s laugh.

“And Jon and…” his face twisted. “Whatever is going on with him.”

Martin’s mouth went dry. In all this, he’d almost managed to forget everything with Jon. He twisted the hem of his jumper. The butterflies hadn’t gone anywhere. Maybe they were worse, actually. It was a worry fueled by vanity, but he hoped that Jon wasn’t too troubled about his and Tim’s whereabouts. Tim’s, at least. He probably wouldn’t worry about Martin, after everything.

“Jon is… going through something. And he doesn’t want our help but I still want to give it to him.”

Tim sighed. “He’s a paranoid idiot.”

They would probably die in these corridors. Maybe that was okay. “I’m in love with him,” he admitted, burying his face in his hands.

Tim let out a short laugh. “Oh. Oh no. I thought it was just a crush?”

“It was but then…” Something changed? Jon changed? “It’s not just that anymore.”

“Oh, Martin, that’s so stupid!”

“Loving someone isn’t stupid.”

“Hmm. I beg to differ when the person you love is Jonathan Sims.”

Martin pulled away, bringing his knees to his chest, and Tim smiled apologetically. “Martin, you can do so much better than him. He’s not a good person, right?”

Martin didn’t reply. He knew well enough that it wasn’t true. Jon was a good person. Good to a fault, utterly ridiculously good.

Tim sighed. “I know, you can’t choose love, it chooses you,” he said, air quoting until Martin slapped his hands down. He shrugged. “I thought I was in love with Sasha, but…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Tim interjected. “How about when we get out of this, we go for a drink? Just us. Away from all the madness which is Jon and Elias and… and Sasha, or whatever that thing--”

“Okay,” Martin interrupted, patting the part of him that he could reach which, currently, was his ankle. “We should do that.”

The entity cackled again, and Martin almost hit his head on the wall. “I wish that thing would stop being so annoying,” he projected, eyeing it meaningfully.

“Who knew! These terrifying fear entities are actually just badly done horror movie creatures,” Tim interjected. “How long are you keeping us?”

“Not much longer,” it replied, and Martin almost kicked Tim in the chest in shock. “You’ll want to be present. When the Archivist brings all to a close. It’ll be fun.”

It prickled in the back of Martin’s mind, and he let out a ‘huh’. “That’s basically what Jane Prentiss said to Jon,” he said to Tim.

Tim shuddered. “We’re in a relatively clean place here, Martin. Please don’t remind me of the worms.”

“I wonder…” he trailed off, before standing up again. A door had appeared, or revealed itself to have always been there. The entity backed away, gesturing to the door with another glint of a grin. Sharp teeth, impossibly wide mouth. Before long it was shrouded in darkness, and the white of its teeth and shining eyes were all that were visible. Martin shuddered.

“God,” Tim said. “I swear, that’s nightmare material for at least a month. Maybe two.”

“I wonder what we’re coming back to,” Martin mused.

“You look tired.”

Jon jumped what looked like half a foot out of his skin, spinning round and only relaxing a little when he saw Martin. “I don’t think I’ve been well-rested a day in my life, Martin.”

“That’s not an excuse to stop trying.”

Jon gave a wry smile, putting his head to one side when Martin placed the mug of tea he’d been carrying on the desk. “Thank you, Martin. And regardless, you’re the one who almost gave me a heart attack and I don’t see you apologising for that.”

“I’m...I’m sorry; I thought you’d heard me?”

Jon smiled again. “It’s fine,” he said. “How...how have you been?”

The question almost made Martin drop his own mug of tea. Jon had said it so carefully, like he was physically forcing himself to, but he still asked it, still looked at Martin expectedly as if he was actually interested in the answer. “O-oh! I… I’m okay?”

Jon waited for a moment. “The...the statements, are they bothering you as much as before?”

“I took your advice,” Martin replied. “The others are taking some on. Though I don’t know how long that will last.”

“They’ll continue,” Jon said, glum as he stared into his tea. “I wish no-one would, but…” he met Martin’s eyes again.

“You should take a break,” Martin continued. “We could go down to that sandwich place?”

Jon kept his gaze for a moment, much too short, much too obvious about what his answer would be. “I can’t,” he admitted, resigned, and holding up a statement. “This one needs to be digitised pretty...pretty urgently, I think. I know.” He placed it back on the desk, reaching for a tape recorder and brushing some cobwebs off it. “How…? I swear I only put that down a minute ago, how did the spiders get to it so quickly?”

“I could bring lunch back for you?”

Too desperate. Too obvious that he was worrying, that he wanted to take care of Jon. Too obvious that he lo--

“It’s okay, Martin. But thank you.”

His voice was painfully sincere, digging deep into Martin’s core with an intensity that made him blush. Thank… whoever was listening that Jon had turned back to the statement, placing the recorder close and starting the statement. Martin tried not to be too alarmed that he hadn’t even needed to press record.

The clock was infuriating.

Martin was sure it ticked slower now, when waiting by Jon’s motionless form. At least it was better than the incessant beating of the heart monitor for normal patients, just waiting to fade to that slow beep of the flat line. But this, the tick, tick, tick. Martin found himself timing his breaths to it, timing the tap of his foot, even his heart he was sure, was beating to that aggravating tick.

“I can’t wait till you’re out of this place,” Martin grumbled. “You couldn’t hurry it up, could you?” The joke was weak, punctuated with a gentle touch to the back of Jon’s hand.

He pulled it away in a rush, feeling like he wasn’t allowed anything so tender. Especially now that Jon was here and unresponsive and Tim was…

He found it difficult to finish that thought. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to acknowledge. And all that time, when Jon had been fighting his way through an apocalyptical scenario and Tim was… he’d been in the archives, fine and safe.

Fine because… Elias hadn’t told him anything he hadn’t suspected already. Of course his mother resented being taken care of, of course Jon wouldn’t care about his feelings.

“Come back, Jon,” he asked.

He didn’t know how long he’d have to wait, but he’d wait. He’d be here for Jon when he woke.

Jon was calling him.

Martin stared in part horror, part wonder at the name on his phone, the blank anonymous picture because there was no way he would ever have a photo of Jon on his phone, not now, not ever. But regardless. It was midnight, and Jon was calling him.

He waited until the phone went dead, and the notification popped up. No message left. Maybe it had been a mistake; it wasn’t the first time he’d been butt-dialed. Maybe he would have ended up as the unwilling participant of an embarrassing conversation.

But then it started again.

Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he’d tried calling everyone else, and no one had picked up. It could be any number of reasons. It had only been a month since he woke from the coma, and even if he was doing weirdly, preternaturally well, it didn’t mean that things didn’t go badly sometimes.

It rang out again, and Martin watched it for a few more minutes, warring with every part of himself.

Sentiment won, which he was sure he would regret the moment morning came, and he reached for the phone, unable to tear his eyes from the familiar letters that spelled Jon’s name.

Jon picked up within the first ring.

“Hi,” he said. Martin paused. “Are you there?”

“Yes? Why did you call me?”

There must have been… something in his voice, because Jon’s breath audibly caught in his throat. Something distant maybe. Hopefully.

“I just…” Martin waited, but he didn’t continue.

“Jon, if it’s not an emergency, you shouldn’t call. Especially at this time.”

“You can’t have been that worried that it was an emergency,” Jon snipped. Martin almost laughed out loud at his sudden annoyance. He could picture exactly how Jon looked right now, ruffled from lack of sleep and an angry furrow between his dark brows, hair spilling over his shoulders. He’d always been beautiful--Tim’s amusement at Martin’s confession aside--but these days…

Maybe it was the lack of time spent with other people. Everyone looked more beautiful to him these days.

“Sorry,” Jon said after another moment of silence. “I shouldn’t have snapped there.”

“Tired?” Martin asked.

“Yes.”

“You know what you have to do if you’re tired, right?”

Another sigh. He was probably twisting a strand of hair around his finger, now. He’d picked up that habit pretty soon after it grew out. “Not just that. I miss you.”

The butterflies would probably never die, at this point. Not until he did. “You said,” he replied carefully, flat, emotionless. Everything he wished he could be. Something that could ignore the voice telling him to say it back, to finally admit what they both knew but had never had a chance to say.

It would be so easy, if only for...

The reason. The reason that he was staying so far away. He rubbed his forehead. “Don’t call me, Jon.”

“Your voicemail message.”

“What about it?”

“I didn’t expect you to answer. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Another beat of silence. “Hang up, Jon,” he tried to command, hating himself all the more when it came out wistful.

“I’m here if you need me, okay?” Jon answered, hanging up the moment he was done.

Too bad, really. Hilariously inconvenient. The kind of dramatic irony that was only usually seen on crappy US sitcoms. There was no uncertainty in Martin’s mind; Jon had fallen for him the moment Martin had lost all hope, with no chance of regaining. Martin sat on his bed, and laughed until he cried.

See, the safehouse didn't start safe. To start, it was all cobwebs and scuttling legs and an insistent pull to the farmer they had passed who Jon knew had quite the story to tell. Something about the endless pit at the corner of his field of cows. He'd already lost so many of them in that gaping maw. Jon was digging his nails deep into the palms of his hands, wishing that Martin would take them but recalling how Martin flinched away from touch now.

Time. They all need time, right? Maybe a therapist, though how much they could communicate Jon had no idea.

He shook his head, repeated, "No, no, no," over and over. It was all...dark and webby. Jon could see eyes peering at him through one of the paintings on the walls. Martin gave him a blank look, the barest hint of concern hiding in the set of his mouth. He asked what Jon needed. Although Jon had the desperate thought, 'You, only you,' run through his head he didn't voice it. "A broom. Light. And to get that painting out of there."

"Wait here," Martin said. 'Don't go,' Jon thought.

Would he ever get to a point where this was all okay? Where it was a distant memory? Where he and Martin would grow old together? He had no gods to pray to, not anymore, but something in him still sent up a desperate little prayer.

Martin emerged with two brooms and the painting carefully covered up with his sweatshirt. There were goosebumps on his arms. He set the painting aside, handed Jon a broom, and carefully didn't look him in the eye.

He was fading at the edges. The pull of the lonely was still so strong, Jon could almost see the thin cords wrapped around his body, slowly but surely dragging him into the pit. Their nearest neighbours were 3 miles away, the nearest town a further 2 miles. The only living creatures near were four cows curiously watching them.

"Martin?" Jon asked. He brushed gentle fingers over the back of Martin's hand. God, he needed touch. He needed to feel Martin against him, needed to be held so tight he couldn't breathe.

Martin flinched away, but gave Jon a brittle smile. "Let's get rid of the cobwebs," he said, achingly gentle.

Jon gripped the broom tighter. "Yes."

The dust fell into his hair and against his face and clothes, making him sneeze with a frequency that alarmed Martin. He was banished to the garden within a few minutes as Martin continued, though Jon carefully listened, watched the movement inside the cabin as he worked his way around the rooms. Maybe this place wasn’t the best for someone so recently escaped from the clutches of the lonely, but where else?

“Where else can we go, we orphans of the storm?” he asked himself, sighing heavily and propping his chin on his knee.

“What?” Martin asked behind him.

Jon plastered a marginally more cheery look on his face, looking over his shoulder at Martin. He joined him on the wooden steps that led down to the small patch of grass which functioned as the cabin’s garden. Careful distance, as if he couldn’t bear to touch Jon.

“It’s nothing.” He turned away from Martin, watching a kite make regular circling turns, diving into undergrowth. The colours painted against the sky were a work of art, all reds and golds. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

Martin didn’t respond other than with a nod. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, it was just… allergies. Too much dust.”

“Right, I should--”

“Stay?” He didn’t mean it to come out quite so plaintive, quite so much laying his heart out with directions on how best to shatter it. If Martin left now, even just to sit inside, something would break. “Please,” he continued. He might as well beg, at this point.

Martin looked down at his hands where they were resting against his thighs. He was thinking...Jon’s breath caught in his throat. He was thinking about being in the hospital, watching Jon with no hope that he would ever wake up. How he felt like he was stealing something he had no right to when he touched Jon’s hand.

Jon reached out his hand, stopping halfway between them. This wasn’t… it, by any means. Martin needed time, maybe he just wasn’t ready to lay out his feelings. But he wanted to hold Jon’s hand, wanted...more. He paused for a long moment, before finally reaching, curling his fingers into the spaces left by Jon’s.

“Martin?” he asked.

Martin’s lips quirked at the sound. Not enough to be a smile, but not fake, either. “Jon?”

Jon edged closer by way of response, slowly resting his head on Martin’s shoulder, waiting for Martin to push him away. It took a while, at least, a while of tracing the lines on Martin’s palms and the branches of his veins on his wrists. A while of Martin remaining utterly still, as if this was borrowed time, and any movement might jolt him out of the reverie. A while until he relaxed the same as Jon.

Romantic, really. The stained clouds, the vast expanse of space, the slowly moving animals. In any other case, feeling like they were the only two people in existence would be good. Like some distant honeymoon, but this was far from a honeymoon. Jon may have pulled Martin from the lonely, may have bared his heart but Martin hadn’t responded. He had loved him. Maybe that was the important part. In the past, before fog and loneliness had stripped all warmth.

It was only then that Jon noticed just how cold Martin’s hand was.

He was staring in the distance, brown eyes dulled to grey, the lines of his body faded and wispy as if there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to find purchase on. “Martin,” he insistently cried, cupping his cheek, drawing him closer. “Martin, look at me.”

He obeyed, but sluggishly, as if Jon’s words were coming across a vast expanse, a valley or ocean. “Jon?” he echoed quietly.

“I’m here, I’m here. Don’t… don’t look away, okay? I’m here.” A gentle squeeze to his hand, though Jon felt like he might pass through. Martin took a deep breath, slowly reached up to twist a strand of Jon’s hair around a finger. “I never responded.”

A beat of silence. Jon traced a thumb across Martin’s cheekbone. “Responded to what?”

“I love you.”

Furrowing his brow. “That’s not right,” Martin said, quietly enough that Jon could almost expect that he didn’t think he would hear. How far was he, to Martin’s eyes?

“I love you,” he repeated, edging closer. “Don’t look away.”

A derisive smile. “That’s… no. I love you, not the other way around.”

The tense line of Jon’s shoulders suddenly relaxed, so sudden that he almost collapsed forwards. It would be a vain hope that Martin would catch him now, when he was so far away.

“Martin,” he called out again, waiting until Martin was looking at him. “I love you. I’ve loved you for...for much too long to only be telling you now.”

He blinked, the grey fog, filmy over his eyes, started to disperse. There was still...something. Some scar that probably wouldn’t heal for a long time, if ever. But colour was coming back to his cheeks, his dark hair and eyes starting to shine and reflect the red sunset again. His hand was suddenly firmly there, clasped tight between Jon’s fingers.

“You love me.” Not a question, but Jon still nodded.

“I love you,” he agreed. “How many times do you want me to say it?”

“I… A couple more times would be nice.”

Jon smiled, far from missing the way Martin shifted his weight closer. “Okay. Let me count the ways,” he recited, only a small lilt of teasing to his tone. “Your resourcefulness,” he started, bringing his hand up to kiss the knuckles. Martin froze, watching him with wide eyes. “Your kindness.” A kiss on his neck. “Your bravery.” His forehead, after a small struggle to get Martin to lean down so he could reach. Martin was laughing at his display by that point. “Your devotion.” Finally, reaching slowly, enough that he could pull away if he wanted. It had been a long time since Jon had kissed anyone, but regardless this all felt new. Even Georgie hadn’t been love, not really, but the young adult’s approximation of what love might be at some point in the future.

It only took a few flurried beatings of his heart before Martin kissed back, hands buried in his hair to keep him close. Only a few more slowly calming beats before he deepened the kiss, and Jon let him take the lead, pressing him against the bannister behind him. “That took way too long to happen,” he complained once Martin had pulled away, contenting himself with pressing kisses against his face.

“You were my boss, Jon. It would have been way too weird.”

“Honestly? I had no real power. I was just a glorified assistant.”

Martin laughed against Jon’s shoulder. “We knew. We all knew.”

Jon sighed, shifting around until he was more comfortably propped against Martin’s side. Best to watch the sunset for now, and how it played against Martin’s eyes. “We’ll be okay,” he promised. “We’ll get through this, we’ll…”

“We’ll be okay,” Martin repeated.

#this is what happens when you just shove 8 fics into one doc #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma #my writing

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misssunflowersandsangria · 3 years

Text

Please Have Snow and Mistletoe- Chapter 4

Merry Christmas Eve my deers! I hope that Santa gives you everything that you want! Or just Happy Thursday! We have a walk in the forest, Christmas Eve dinner, and a goodbye. Hope you enjoy it~

Summary: The anticipation, wonder, and magic that Christmas can bring.

Chapter 4: A Christmas Poem

To kick off their Christmas Eve the Naras would have an annual hike through the surrounding forested area. Shikamaru prefaced it by saying that there would be a surprise by the end of it. They were all dressed to the nines in their matching family sweater.

There was a profound heaviness in Temari’s chest as she packed up her things. Everything had been a whirlwind and she wished that for just a moment that it could all just slow down.

Walking in the quiet forest made time stop for just a little.

Yoshino linked her arm with Temari’s as they continued their peaceful walk in the snow. Shikaku and Shikamaru were just ahead leading the way.

“I know you’re leaving tonight but I just want you to know how thankful I am that you’re both here.” Those now familiar brown eyes were glittering with joy.

“Was it really that bad?”

Yoshino's eyes took on a contemplative quality.

“Something changed, coming home for Shikamaru would be such a chore. He’d show up just on Christmas then would be gone the next day. Those celebrated traditions we had just tossed to the side. Even when he was here he’d be on his phone constantly. It was like he wasn’t even here. The fact that you could make him forget about all of that, even just for a little well Temari, you’re a gift. I’m proud of my son, he’s intelligent, successful, and has accomplished more than I could have even imagined. But more than anything I just want him to be happy and you’ve done that.”

It wasn’t fair. They thought her to be some kind of benevolent force but more than anything she was just an actress.

“He’s made me really happy too. Your son is unlike anyone that I’ve ever met before.” And that was the honest truth. Yoshino wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You know, I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

Temari just smiled back the uneasiness in her chest growing. After today she’d never see them again and she began to wonder just what Shikamaru would say. What explanation would he give as to why they “broke up.”

Would they miss her the same way that she knew that she was going to miss them?

They finally made it out to a clearing and she watched enchanted as deer seem to appear from nowhere. Drawn to the two male Naras who had brought along food and pellets for the animals.

“So is this the reason for all the deer printed stuff?” She asked, amazed while a deer ate from Shikamaru’s hand.

“Yes, since we’ve owned this house and property a herd of deer made it their home too. Feeding them has always been one of my favorite childhood memories. Give me your hand.” He placed a handful of pellets into her palm. Shikamaru stood close behind her supporting her outstretched arm.

“Just be calm and quiet, they’re not shy but you’re new so it might take a minute to trust you.” His voice was soft and warm against her ear as she waited with hopeful breath that a deer might come.

A curious doe with light brown fur and white spots along her side came towards them. Temari bit back a grin at how her wet nose tickled her skin and enjoyed the unique experience.

“You’re a natural.”

The longer they were out there the more comfortable the herd became around her. She’d fed various ones and enjoyed just watching them play in the snow.

“This is pretty magical Mr. Nara.” Temari sighed, leaning her head against this shoulder as she watched a doe play with her fawn.

He never imagined bringing someone here that wasn’t family. It was a little too precious and personal to just have anyone come along. He didn’t even think to question Temari’s presence there.

“Ready to head back?”

“Just a little more time?” She requested hopefully and it felt like she was asking for more than just time out there.

“Okay.”

—

Shikamaru had to remind himself to breathe seeing Temari make her way down the stairs. The dress framed her flawlessly and she was a vision in gold. He met her at the bottom of the staircase and carefully took her hand in his. The dress he’d chosen for her for dinner was perfect.

“You look incredible Temari.” There was so much more that he wanted to say but the words felt trapped in his throat.

“Thank you, you’re quite handsome as well.” She complimented him and pushed his loose hair back. He caught her hand to place a soft kiss against it.

She wondered whether he knew just what he was doing to her heart.

Once they’d returned from their walk in the snow she had more time to pack, organize her gifts, and get ready for Christmas Eve dinner. Shikamaru had surprised her with her attire for the evening. The dress was stunning and any self-consciousness she felt while wearing it disappeared when she saw the look in his eyes.

“Let’s go.” He offered his arm but before they could go forward Yoshino interjected. Both of them barely realized that she’d been standing there.

“Wait, there’s mistletoe! You two have to kiss.” Yoshino demanded with a grin. They looked up seeing that the ceiling had been covered with boughs of mistletoe.

Shikamaru was about to protest when Temari’s hand reached up to turn his gaze towards her.

“It’s okay.” She mouthed. Taking a deep breath his arm wrapped around her waist pulling her in tight. She tilted her head up, her teal eyes were bright and hopeful. Soft pink lips parted. His eyes fell close as he caught her lips against his and he felt the room spin. Soft and sweet it made him want more. More of her kisses, more of her smiles, just more of her.

He pulled back and took an unsteady breath.

“Well, who's ready for dinner?” They could hear the glee in Yoshino’s voice.

Temari followed Shikamaru wordlessly into the formal dining room. The Yamanakas and Akimichis already there.

She was thankful for a chance to sit down and have a glass of wine. A kiss had never made her feel like that. So untethered and free. But it wasn’t real to him, right? It was just to perpetuate the lie. To keep the secret going. She didn’t have any more time to spiral as Shikaku stood up to make a speech.

“Every year I’m thankful that we could all be here together. That our families are as strong and united as ever. The Yamanakas, Akimichis, and Naras in one room always makes this old man smile. Now with the addition of our dear Temari, well it feels like we’re complete. I’m grateful for all that we’ve been blessed with this year and I look forward to all that the future will bring. So a toast to us and this family.”

They all toasted agreeing with the sentiment. Life wasn’t always easy but they were together and had each other. It was enough.

Temari tried to enjoy dinner but her eyes kept darting towards the clock. In just a few hours she’d be on her way back home on a flight taking her away from here. That kiss had been a foolish decision but how badly did she want it. It only solidified what she already knew.

She had fallen for Shikamaru and just her luck it was almost time for her to leave. She didn’t know when she stopped acting, she didn’t know if she had ever really started. Everything between them just felt so natural. What she did know was that her feelings for him and how being here felt were real.

Temari felt his hand reach over to hold hers in his grasp. Rather than being comforting, it hurt. A cruel reminder that this was all a doctored fantasy built on a lie. Her perfect holiday would be shattered soon along with her heart.

When dinner came to its end Temari shared a tearful goodbye with the Yamanakas and Akimichis. As she became part of the Nara clan she was just as easily integrated into their families.

“No, no crying. We’ll be together soon okay.” Karui brushed her stray tears away.

Ino pulled her into a tight hug. “Yes, sooner rather than later. We’ll go visit you and Shikamaru too.”

More hugs and goodbyes were shared until they finally had to go.

Shikamaru held Temari tight as they waved goodbye. It felt heavier than their usual farewells.

There was one more thing to do and then this would all be over.

When they returned to their room Temari gleefully picked up the neatly folded clothes on the bed.

“You can’t be that excited?” Shikamaru laughed at how happy she was over the set of matching pajamas.

She grinned fondly tracing over the deer print. After this morning she could understand. “Of course I am! Oh, they’re so soft too. I’m going to wear these on the plane.” The statement sobered her up and she just took the set wordlessly and went to change.

When she reappeared Shikamaru had already changed into his matching set. Despite how handsome he looked tonight dressed in a formal suit she had to admit that she preferred him just like this.

““That kiss Shikamaru-”

“It’s okay Temari, I’m sorry my mother forced you into that.”

Her heart dropped. Of course, that’s all he saw it as. Just another performance. “Oh, that’s okay.” Pushing back her sadness and disappointment Temari took his hand in hers.

“Let’s go, present time.”

Shikaku and Yoshino had been far too generous towards her and had given her an armful of gifts. The small gifts she’d given them felt like meager offerings but they were beyond grateful for their presents. They stepped away just a little so that she could exchange her gifts with Shikamaru. He’d already given her another mountain of gifts to take home along with presents for her family. It was a good thing that she was flying on a private jet or her bag fees would be astronomical. She was grateful that she had something to give to him too.

“Temari? When did you do all this?” He was surprised as to when she had time to get his parents’ gifts and one for him as well.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re not the only one with Christmas magic, and I asked the girls for help. Here I hope you like it.”

He opened the carefully wrapped box finding a well-crafted watch nestled in the box. It had a dark bezel and green details the Nara family symbol imprinted on the back.

“The watches where I’m from are pretty well known so I knew that this would be perfect for you.” She explained waiting with bated breath that he liked it.

“What’s the engraving?” He asked as his fingers traced over the mix of letters and numbers.

“It’s the number of the flight I should have been on. The one that if it had flown then we would have never met.” She replied softly remembering that fateful encounter.

“Oh.”

He just stared at her in disbelief. “Temari, I’m speechless. This is perfect. Thank you.”

At least even after she was long gone and a distant memory he would have a small reminder of her. “You’re welcome.”

“I have one more thing for you too.” Nothing about him surprised her anymore.

In the box was a carefully crafted necklace with a dainty deer pendant a single diamond embedded into it. He took it from her hands before placing it around her neck. His fingers lightly tracing over the chain.

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Just something to remind you that no matter what you’ll always be a Nara.”

She threw herself into his arms, her eyes shut tight to keep her tears at bay. Maybe in another life, she could admit how she felt about him. And maybe he’d respond that he felt the same way. But for now, this would have to be enough.

—

As much as Temari tried she couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. She needed to go home. Her bags were already in the car that would take her to the airport. She was thankful that Shikamaru wouldn’t be going with her. She didn’t know if she could handle such a private goodbye.

“I was a little disappointed that there was no marriage proposal, but there’s always the New Year right?” Yoshino admitted with a wink.

“Please come back and see us soon okay?” Temari held onto her tightly fighting back tears. In disbelief that this would be the last time that she saw them. Shikaku and Yoshino stepped away to give her and Shikamaru a little more privacy.

Shikamaru stood in front of her, his shoulders tense and drawn in.

“Thanks again Temari. This uhm, well it went better than I could have ever imagined.”

Temari paused waiting for something more but he stood there silent.

“You’re welcome Shikamaru. Take care of yourself, and them.” He nodded at a loss of what he should do.

Temari placed a warm hand against his cheek before drawing him to a soft gentle kiss. Her lips feather-light against his.

“Goodbye Shikamaru.”

She looked back as the car drove forward, taking her away from the Naras, Shikamaru, and the life they might have shared. Alas, it just wasn’t meant to be.

Her hand worried the deer pendant that hung from her neck while she fought back tears.

Their deal was over, that’s all that it ever was. There was a moment when it looked like he wanted to say something to maybe ask her to stay but instead, he let her go. Despite everything they’d shared his goodbye felt so hollow. And it was the answer she needed.

Temari didn’t know when she agreed to help him that fateful day that giving away her heart would be part of the deal.

Please Have Snow and Mistletoe

Chapter 1: Flight 4XMAS

Chapter 2: A Scene from a Snowglobe

Chapter 3: Sweeter than a Sugar Plum

Chapter 4: A Christmas Poem

How could you let her go Shikamaru?! Don’t leave anything unsaid! (so if you love me let me know haha)

So Temari’s gift makes sense but my idea for Shikamaru’s watch came from two things. The Seiko x Naruto collaboration that just released (the description basically matches the one that they made, picture is on my profile) and also it makes sense for Temari to give him one because it reminds me of the sand timer symbol that Suna shinobi wear! :D

Have a wonderful Christmas Eve or day doing whatever. I know that all these holidays and this week may be tough on people so I hope that you can find some cheer in it all. I wish you all love, light and joy. One more chapter tomorrow and this baby will be all done. Love you my dears!

#shikatema #shikatem #shikamaru x temari #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #christmas fluff #holiday fluff #modern au #fake dating #a walk in the snow #gift exchange #home for the holidays #theres snow #and mistletoe #christmas eve #sangriaslips #sunflowerstalks #ill be home for christmas

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stillebesat · 5 years

Note

Logan looked at Roman, eyes dark. "I need you to really think about what you're saying, because you're going to hurt Virgil even more if you do not."

To Break A Curse

Warnings: Negative Self Talk

It was always about thinking wasn’t it? Think it through. Think before you act. Think. Think. Think.

At least the darkness could hide Roman’s flinch as the two of them stopped by the edge of the lake behind his castle. “I have thought about it plenty, Specs.” He said, keeping his tone as even as he could as he glanced down to Virgil lying motionless in his arms, hardly looking human now with how far the curse had progressed.

A curse that could have been broken far earlier had their Emo Knightmare only chosen to come to him first about this instead of Patton or Logan. After all, Roman was the Prince! The Knight! The one who’d faced the Dragon Witch time and time again and had had plenty of practice in saving her victims from a multitude of varying curses.

Virgil would have been fine instead of–instead of–

Roman bit back a sigh. But he hadn’t.

It made total sense why he wouldn’t too. Because even though Roman called himself a Prince…when it came to Anxiety–he had been anything but Charming.

And now Virgil looked more like a shadow of a human–no more like the night sky in human form, his darkened skin sparkling with dozens of mini galaxies that swirled over his body now that they had left the light streaming from the castle windows.

“Trust me, Lo.” Roman said, giving Logan a smile that he hoped would be seen as confident. “It’s how curses are broken. He just needs a kiss.”

A Kiss. Such a simple action for the self proclaimed Romantic of their group to make. Yet, Roman found his heart fluttering uneasily at the very thought. He and Virgil were barely crossing the line from Enemies to Frien–well probably Uneasy Acquaintances was a better term for their current status. So to kiss him? Unthinkable.

Logan crossed his arms, lips pressing together in a thin line. “A kiss.”

Roman forced himself to not roll his eyes, hoping the darkness was hiding the blood he could feel rushing to his face. He knew how illogical it was, but that’s how breaking curses worked! “Yes, Sherlock. A kiss.”

“But–” Logan turned abruptly away, shoulders bowing as he stared at the lake. “We already tried that!” He said, voice cracking. “It didn’t work!”

Roman froze. Wait. Logic. LOGIC had–had—“Y-you already tried–”

“Both Patton and I.” Logan confirmed, his glasses catching the castle lights as he glanced to Roman. “Patton seemed certain after hearing the terms–and with your feedback on curses in the past, it was only logical–”

Wait. “Terms? What terms!” Roman demanded, shifting Virgil’s feather-light weight in his arms. Why hadn’t Specs mentioned that earlier when he’d first brought Anxiety to him?! Curses could backfire dramatically if they could only be broken a certain way! He would need to know exactl–

Logan waved a hand impatiently. “Not exactly terms per se. It’s a poem. But it’s the only clue we have to breaking Virgil’s curse. The Dragon Witch would say no more to us when we went to her.

Roman nearly dropped the Shadowling, his vision tunneling. The others had chosen to see the Dragon Witch before considering him? He could–he could have helped far sooner—Roman took a breath, calling upon his acting skills to keep his voice from shaking, from showing the betrayal clawing its way through his chest into his heart.

Some Prince. What good are you if none of the others trust you to save the day?

Sure, he and Virgil weren’t the best of friends, but that didn’t mean they needed to go to that–that vile creature before coming to him as a last resort! “What did she say?” He managed, grateful that his voice somehow remained steady.

Logan raised a hand to his glasses, adjusting them as he spoke.

“Shadows spreading like a blight, Only fixed under full moon’s light. Greet him softly with all your love. Accepting what you’re deprived of. A single need, true form remake. Where water pools, the curse shall break.”

He cleared his throat, pulling at his tie as he turned back to Roman. “As you can see–”

He could see, unfortunately. Roman exhaled, absently running his fingers along Virgil’s arm, chasing a white and blue galaxy up to his elbow. “Yah, it’s pretty clear.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “It is?”

Roman could practically feel the skepticism coming off him in waves. “Compared to previous curses I’ve had to break under the Dragon Witch? Yes.” He smirked, though with the leadened weight settling in his stomach, it was difficult to feel triumphant. He’d been hoping that there would be something within the verse to help him prove that the others should have come to Creativity first.

A fool’s hope. If it had just been Logan he may have had a chance, but Patton was Thomas’s heart. He could be just as romantic as Roman was. Padre would have had no problem piecing the clues together. Especially if it meant helping his Strange Dark Son.

“Virgil needs to be kissed under the full moon by or perhaps in water.” Simple. Easy. And if both Logan and Patton had failed to understand that–Roman shook his head, moving closer to the water’s edge. “The only confusing part is why it didn’t work for either of you.”

The curse didn’t sound like it needed to be true love’s kiss. The Dragon Witch always was specific about that. But Virgil shared close if not–dare he say it? Loving bonds with the both Logic and Morality. Far closer than Stormy McCloud ever had, or probably ever would with Roman. “Did you actually try kissing him in the lake or just greet him with a friendly hello, Specs?”

Logan ducked his head and Roman could swear the nerd had turned red. “I–I–greeting verbally was what I wanted to do…but Pat convinced me that a kiss was needed. We tried doing so both in and by the lake. Patton the first night, me the second.”

Both. And it didn’t work. It should have though. All the pieces were there. Shadows. Virgil. Full moon’s light. Full Moon. Where water pools? Didn’t sound specific so the lake would work. Greet him softly with all your love? More tricky, but still sounded like Kissing to him. A single need? Make Virgil normal. Kiss to make him normal. Accepting what you’re deprived of? Well the others had been far quicker to accept Virgil as one of them than Roman had, recognizing that they needed him to help Thomas function.

All the pieces were there to break the curse.

And it hadn’t worked.

No wonder Logan wanted him to think more carefully. He looked up, watching the full moon rising over head. Three nights of a full moon. Three chances. Pat and Lo had already tried the first two.

Tried and failed.

Leaving him to save the da–night.

If it could be saved.

But he and Virgil hardly had a relationship with any sort of love in it. Not after so many years of hatred on both sides.

You’re going to fail.

“However, if you are confident that it is a kiss…then, Roman…you only have tonight to free him from it.” Logan said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Once the Moon sets, Virgil will permanently become part of the shadows and stars and we’ll never–” He cut off, shakily inhaling. “We’ll never see him again.”

Never? Never see their Emo Nightmare again? A chill rushed down his spine. Sure, there had been a time when the news would have had Roman singing his joy loud and clear from the top of the tallest mountain. But now? Not so much.

You’re gonna fail.

And the others would never forgive him if he did. Roman shrugged off Logan’s hand, giving him another confident smile he didn’t feel. “Not to worry, Specs. Virgil will be right as rain soon enough. You can count on me.”

Can he?

Lo seemed to search his eyes for an eternity before he nodded, clearing his throat. “Then I shall leave you to it, Roman. Patton tells me that this sort of thing is done best…” He looked away, rubbing at his arm. “Without an audience.”

Roman swallowed back a choked laugh. Yah. Talk about awkward. He could picture far too easily. Logan watching him with notepad in hand, ready to jot down the results of–

Your failure.

“Sounds good to me, Specs.” He turned away, holding Virgil close. If he needed to kiss their resident Edgelord he would prefer to do it out of sight of the castle windows. “Why don’t you wait inside the Castle?” He suggested over his shoulder as he strode away, searching for a more secluded spot along the shoreline. “I’ll bring Virgil back to you soon enough.”

He could only hope that that wasn’t a lie. Logan hadn’t shouted falsehood at him, so that… had to be something right?

But with every step Roman took, his doubts only increased.

You don’t love him.

You barely tolerate him.

You two aren’t even friends.

How can you greet him with ALL your love if there is NONE to begin with?

Roman grimaced. “Not true.” He whispered. He and Virgil had some–he exhaled, drawing a blank on what exactly they could love about each other as he stared down at the former dark side, watching as a red galaxy chased a purple one from Virgil’s shoulder down to his hip before vanishing around the other side.

Under Full Moon’s Light.

Where Water Pools.

Roman glanced to the lake, gauging the distance from the shore to the moon’s reflection crossing the still waters.

Maybe he would have to Swan Princess this.

“Sorry Virge.” He whispered, moving into the lake, the splashing of each step sounding like thunder to his ears.

Though if Logan and Patton had both kissed him in water, then Virgil could hardly complain about getting wet again.

He probably would though. Sir Pessimist hardly liked much of what Roman did. Ever.

This isn’t going to work.

Roman gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his footing on the rocky bottom, holding Virgil as tightly as he dared so his shadowy form, barely weighing more than a feather, wouldn’t slip from his grip. “It has to.” He whispered.

Please.

Everyone was counting on him.

He couldn’t fail them.

Not again.

He reached the moon’s reflection just as the water reached waist high. Not the most comfortable of positions to kiss someone in for sure. On the nearby rocky outcropping nearby would have been better, but that wasn’t in the water nor in the moon’s reflection. So this…this would have to do.

“Alright, Stormcloud.” Roman said, carefully brushing dark bangs away from Virgil’s shadowy face. “Time to break your curse.”

But you don’t love him.

Roman swallowed, closing his eyes.

No, he didn’t love Virge. Not like…not like the others did. He was still learning…still trying to…to see Anxiety in a better light than as the villain.

And that’s why you’re gonna fail.

Because wasn’t it contradictory? How could Roman greet Virgil with all his love…when he didn’t have love for him yet?

He was barely beginning to–to like the guy, accept that Virgil could help Thomas and now–now—

You’re gonna fail.

It was just a kiss.

One kiss.

Roman exhaled, opening his eyes as he trailed fingers down Virgil’s cheek, tracing the angular edges as a rainbow galaxy crossed over the bridge of his nose. “Hey, V–uh…Virge-” No too informal. “Hey, Virgil.” He whispered, leaning in. “This won’t hurt, I promise.”

Greet him softly with all your love.

Love.

Just one kiss.

“I guess consent isn’t really that important?”

Roman paused, a hair’s breadth from brushing lips with Edgy McEdgelord, his heart twisting in his chest hard enough to tear in two.

Virgil had never liked the idea of breaking curses through kissing. He’d said so himself when they’d filmed The Dark Side of Disney with Thomas. It wasn’t—it didn’t feel right to kiss him now when he had no say.

Not even to lift a curse?

Logan and Patton had both tried it. And it hadn’t worked. Why would it work for Roman when Virgil didn’t even like him!

You’re gonna fail.

Roman drew a shaky breath, eyes burning as he fought to keep his composure. “I’m… sorry, Virgil.” He choked out, betraying tears falling onto Stormcloud’s cheeks as he closed his eyes.

If only he had been nicer to the Emo Nightmare. Been more–more of the sort of Prince that Virgil deserved. The sort of person where Anxiety wouldn’t have hesitated to come to him for help. Would have trusted Roman to save the day as soon as the curse had been placed instead–instead–of–

Some Prince.

Roman held Virgil close, more tears freely falling from his eyes. “I–I want to help you–sa–save you. But–but–I can’t–not like–like this—I’m sorry.”

The others were right to not come straight to you.

You can’t even give a simple kiss.

Just. One. Kiss.

But that wasn’t what Virgil would want!

Roman gritted his teeth.

Think. THINK! There HAD to be some other way to return Virgil to his normal pale skinned, raccoon eyed, hoodie wearing self. There had to be something he had missed in the poem. Some clue that would save the day. That would bring–

Virgil stirred in his arms, a soft moan coming from his lips.

Roman’s eyes flashed open, his breath catching in his throat as blazing light nearly blinded him where he’d expected to only be confronted with Virgil’s shadowed self.

Where water pools, the curse shall break.

Every tear of Roman’s that had fallen onto Virgil’s face was glowing a bright brilliant gold, leaving pale unmarked skin behind where they had streaked as Anxiety again stirred in his arms.

Raising a shaking hand, not quite believing what he was seeing, Roman carefully brushed one of the golden tears with his thumb, leaving a large swath of pale skin across Virgil’s cheek in the process.

Tears. Not a body of water. Not the lake. TEARS. That was the answer!

“Virgil?” Roman whispered.

Another soft moan rewarded him as Virgil’s eyelids fluttered, the galaxies disappearing from his skin as his hands twitched, reaching out to grab onto Roman’s sash. “Ro?” He mumbled.

Ro.

Not Princey.

Ro.

Fresh golden tears fell onto Virgil, washing away more shadows as Roman nodded, a shaky smile spreading across his face. “Yah, Virge. It’s me. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. I got you.” He said, turning back to the shoreline.

“You—” Virgil gripped his sash tighter, opening pale eyes that glimmered like the stars above them. “Did you–” He licked his lips, splotched red and black as the shadows continued to fade from him.

“Kiss you to break the curse?” Roman looked away, his own heart jumping into his throat. Careful. This was shaky ground for both of them. “No, Eugene Fitzherbert I–” He shrugged, stepping from the water onto the shore. “I remembered your dislike of that particular…method. Your lips are safe from mine. I ended up Rapunzeling your curse away instead of Princeing it.”

By complete accident, but no one needed to know that.

Virgil relaxed, resting his head against his chest as one hand brushed at the tears on his cheeks. “You actually…cried for me? I thought–”

Roman tightened his grip. “Thought?” Despite himself he looked down, meeting Virge’s star colored eyes.

Virgil licked his lips again before he shrugged, ducking his head. “I thought you’d be singing, actually.” He mumbled.

Si–Sing? Roman blinked. How would that have broken—

“You know.” He gestured vaguely about. “Flower gleam and glow?”

Oh.

Roman chuckled, shaking his head. That would have made sense…golden tears and all. “Well– I can do that too.” It would be something to do beyond walking back to the castle in an awkward silence.

Virgil huffed, his purpling bangs falling into his face. “So long as it’s not done in your romano cheesy fashion.–I–I would like that…Ro.”

Ro.

For that nickname? Roman would gladly sing to the top of the mountains and back. He nodded, flashing him a brilliant smile. “Then prepared to be serenaded all the way back to the castle, Virgilicious. I shan’t deprive you further of the glorious piece of heaven that is my voice.”

He halfway expected to hear Virgil groan at that, but as he drew breath to sing the first notes, Virge merely relaxed in his arms, fingers once more curling around his sash as Roman walked them back along the water’s edge, the full moon shining brightly above them.

End.

#To Break A Curse #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Two Sentences #Roman #Virgil #Logan #Creativity #Anxiety #Logic #Negative self talk tw #kissing talk tw

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who-is-olivia · 4 years

Text

Who Is Olivia?

Harry Styles x OC

Harry proposes during the recordings of Made in the AM. [4.2k]

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: hello! fine line is on the way and i think i might have a creative meltdown when it arrives, so i'll just keep posting whatever i please with all the beautiful content harry's ever brought to light. this chapter is a throwback to old school 1D fanfics, bringing the boys back because i'm soft and i miss one direction =) enjoy xx

August 2015

“And you will find me... in places that we’ve never been, for reasons we don’t understand, walking in the wind” he sings in the booth for the 8th time, then stands quietly for a few seconds to give her a clean cut spot. “How’s that?”

“You’re almost hitting the note, but it’s not quite yet” Olivia comes over to the booth, “If you put more pressure in it you might find the best placement, come on, do it again”

He rubs his frown in stress, it’s late and he’s tired, having Oli press him is not helping at all. “Don’t we have a take already?”

“We have, but you can do better”

“Come on, love...”

“Trust me, you can do better-“

“Can we take 5?” he asks Julian, who just shrugs. It’s already late, it makes no difference. However, Olivia doesn’t take it half as well as him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m bloody exhausted, that’s what, and having you... diss me every two takes is not helping”

“You think I’m picking on you?” she asks skeptically.

“I’m just saying you don’t criticize Liam or Niall half as much as you do me” he fires back in frustration. Instead of lashing out as he expects she will, Olivia waits for him to calm down and then spells it out for him.

“The only reason I push you is because I want you to give your best. If you want someone to pat your head and shower you in compliments, you’ll sound fine, but fine is also mediocre” he nods in agreement, letting his head fall embarrassed. At the comfort of that position, he almost lets his eyes close but he knows once he does that he’ll probably fall asleep. “We’re almost there, just help us out”

“Alright... I’m sorry” he replies with a small sigh and so she pulls him to a hug, letting him rest his head on her shoulder as she strokes his back.

“Forgiven” she leaves him with a small smile and a quick kiss, “Don’t forget to put pressure on it”

Julian starts the recorder once again, signaling to him that they’re rolling before playing him the playback. “And you will find me... in places that we’ve never been, for reasons we don’t understand, walking in the wind”

Oli waits for a couple of moments before grinning, “I think it’s the take, come out here”

After Zayn left, making the fifth album was insane. The four of them kept pulling to completely different artistic directions, Julian could barely help them with the singles so little he could give some coherence to the album. That’s when Oli decided to step in.

Harry knows he pales in the shadow of her abilities as songwriter, virtuosi and producer altogether so he willingly gave her the helm. At first, the other lads were uncomfortable with her command, fearful that this was one of Harry’s things he does for love, but surely enough Olivia proved herself to be very experienced. Harry always wanted to be an entertainer, but he never truly endeavored to become one before the X-Factor, however Oli’s been almost genetically programed for that, studying music ever since she could talk, studying every part of the process and also rubbing shoulders with generations of rockstars. She’s the woman for the job.

For their luck, Oli and Frank have been touring across America keeping track of One Direction’s leg in there, often making shows in the same city but a few days apart. To keep up with the recordings, she’s been making an extra effort, dedicating almost all her vacant hours to the album. As they often record in hotel rooms, it at least offers a place for them to pass out after endless hours of work.

“Check it out” she places the heavy headphones over his ears so he can hear the mix with the guitar base. Her whole equipment lies on the bed and over the tables, it’s the best she and Julian could assemble... at least it gets a really great sound.

“That sounds really nice” he smiles at her.

“See? I told you”

She takes all the material they recorded and starts mixing with Julian at their improvised studio. At some point, Liam and Louis decide to participate, leaving Oli free to rest after long hours of work. She curls up in the bed and immediately blacks out, making Harry feel a bit guilty – through all his hissy fits about exhaustion he never once considered how tired she must’ve been feeling, as not once did she bring it up. But now there’s no point in apologizing, he just lays behind her and spoons her back, holding her like a big teddy bear through deep slumber.

He wakes up hours later with her still unconscious in his arms. It takes a moment for him to realize where he is, getting up without moving her the slightest he notices Julian and Liam still glued to the computer. At the balcony, he finds Louis and Niall sharing a beer and laughing while the sun creeps up the horizon, so he decides to join.

“Morning lads”

“Morning, Romeo” Niall pokes.

“What’re you up for?”

“Trying to come up with something, we’re still missing a couple tracks” Louis explains, taking a gulp of beer. “You’ve got anything?”

“I always do, just don’t know if it could make it to the album” he mentions while resting his back on the railing. He keeps a writing journal full of poems ever since the band started, and in it he keeps great ideas that never saw the light of day. Recently, he wrote one that feels very personal and very cheeky... just thinking about it makes him laugh. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but I have a really great one”

“How does it go?”

“It’s silly...”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I just play around with Oli’s name” they raise their brows, ready to mock him. “One of these days she was telling me something about alliterations or something like that, and I just played around with the phrase-“ he blushes, “‘I love Olivia’, because the L sound just bounces off. So I wrote a song for her that went I live for you, I long for you, Olivia, I’ll be now idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia... see? It bounces off”

“S’ a bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Niall comments skeptically but Louis is thoroughly entertained. “Using her name on the song, it’s not very subtle”

“We’ve got songs with names on them” he argues, playing with the glass bottle. “Don’t see why not”

“We better tell Liam about it-“

“Tell me what?” the man himself walks through the door to join his bandmates with a bottle of his own.

“Harry’s got a cool song for the album but it’s got Oli’s name on it” Niall explains.

“Is she cool with that?”

“She doesn’t know yet” Harry clarifies.

“Well, is it a good song?”

“It’s not done yet, but it has potential” he insists while noticing how much their confidence as a group has grown over the past few months. They embark on his idea without even hearing the full song, although they’ve been rewarded for their trust time and time again. Harry came up with some great compositions this time around, taking all his experience with the band and Olivia in consideration.

“If you want, you can make a demo when we get to London and show us what you’ve got. I think we booked Abbey Road for a couple of days”

“Alright, I’ll give it a go”

Before they start the British leg of the tour, they get a couple weeks off schedule which give Harry some time to finish the melody before actually recording it. The last shows of the American leg take place fairly close to New York, so he and Oli get to go home ahead of everyone else. Sadly, one side effect of touring for three months in a row is an empty fridge, making them drag their already exhausted bodies out of the house for their meals.

“Do they need someone for the orchestras? I know a guy who can help” Olivia tells, holding her Starbucks cup in one hand and Harry’s on the other.

“Thanks love, but we’ll record the rest in London”

“Oh, right! I forgot... shit, I’ve got to book a flight” she gets ready to fumble for her phone but he holds her wrist.

“I’ll get a private one, just chill, I’ve got this” he soothes, pulling her hand to his lips then smiling amicably.

She smiles back but it immediately flips into an irritated growl. “For fuck’s sake”, he turns around and notices a couple paparazzi snapping at them. When they notice they’ve been caught they lose all decorum and just harass them.

“Harry, how’s the tour? Are you taking a break?” one of them asks, shoving the camera on his face.

“Hey, back the fuck off-“

“Oli, don’t” Harry holds her closer, taking the sunglasses from his shirt and handing them over so she can at least cover her face. “Let’s get a cab”

“Have you been talking to Zayn?” another one asks.

“Would you please let us through? We just wanna walk” Harry pleads politely.

“Sure man, I’m just doing my job” a third one steps out of the way, helping him and Olivia reach a cab and leave the streets for good.

“77th with Central Park West, please”

Olivia watches the paparazzi stay behind as the taxi speeds by, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a restaurant beside Central Park, I went there the other day, thought you might like”

She smiles, “Look at you, all local and stuff”

“I’m looking forward to at least a year of vacation, might as well learn my way around”

“Oh, thank you, by the way” she returns the sunglasses which he stores in his shirt once again.

They disembark at Central Park, being faced with an enormous queue outside the restaurant they were set to enter. In spite of it, they decide to walk around anyway. The park is a couple blocks away from their apartment, a purposeful decision as Harry appreciates extensive morning jogs when he sticks around. Although they come from polar opposite backgrounds, they both grew accustomed to New York and truly built a life in the city.

“A little blue bird told me that we’re recording at Abbey Road next week... is it true?” she taunts.

“Yes...” she celebrates discreetly, “You’ve never been there?”

“No, never! I always wanted to record something there”

“And Uncle Paul never took you?” he mocks.

“Very funny” she scowls in return, pushing him away.

“You know, it’d be crazy to go to Abbey Road with a Beatle...” he pulls her back, “What do you say? I give you the Road, you bring the McCartney?”

“He’s probably busy” she laces her arm around his, “Uncle Jim used to say Paul and Ringo only show up if there’s a wedding or a funeral... let’s see which one comes first”

“Let’s see” he looks down, his mind immediately sinking deep in thought.

They’ve talked about getting married, they agreed to it months ago but they never made a move to officialize it. They didn’t arrange a party, invite their friends or consult a register office — hell, he didn’t even buy a proper ring. For a moment he frets she might think he’s given up, they’ve been living in good graces for three years straight, the only reason they’re not properly married yet is... inertia. Maybe, with the stars aligning and time on their side, he can come up with something.

“What is it?”

“Hm?”

“You got all quiet all of a sudden” she rests her chin on his shoulder, “What is it?”

“Just random things in my mind”

“Yeah, no shit!” he chuckles, “Mind to share?”

“Have you ever written songs about me?”

She frowns, “Not exactly... I usually write about what I feel, and you’re usually the cause of that but it’s way more complex than that. Feelings are a mix of all the baggage you have from life and a catalyst, something that makes you express that. Sometimes that’s you, sometimes it’s not”

He sighs, sometimes she’s humiliatingly clever, “That’s very... fancy”

“I know” she holds on to his hand, holding another over her eyes as the sun hits them directly. “Have you ever written songs about me?”

“All my songs are about you in some way, shape or form, I don’t even have a fancy answer for that” he takes his sunglasses off again and places them over her face, she mutters a small ‘thanks’. “And it’s a bit weird ‘cause I always want people to relate to the songs but I feel like they’re too specific, might as well just slap your name in the title” he suggests almost as an internal joke with himself.

“I think you’re not getting this right”

“Yeah?”

“Take Uncle Paul for example: he wrote a bunch of songs with names on them and people still relate to it. Like Michelle, Dear Prudence, Sexy Sadie...”

“I think they listen to it more like made up stories than like autobiographies”

“Maybe, but you see, these songs have a clear subject and yet everyone can be touched by the lyrics. When you hear Dear Prudence do you think about Prudence Farrow locked up in her room at an Indian meditation camp?”

“I didn’t even know that story” he admits.

“Exactly, and you don’t have to! ‘Cause when you hear Dear Prudence you understand it’s about going outside, enjoying the day and feeling good about yourself”

He ponders, maybe his song can make its way to the album like that: being based on this incredible experience he lives every moment they’re together but still describing something everyone goes through, “Yeah, it feels like that”

“See? And he’s not talking to you, he’s talking to Prudence” she points a finger on his face to prove a point. “The best art makes you feel personally addressed, even if there’s a name between the artist and the listener. You can quote me on that”

“Alright, clever clocks” he pulls her to a hug and presses a playful kiss on her lips, which extends to this sweet contact in the middle of Central Park. This last album has been challenging, it’s pushed Harry so hard he sometimes feels he’s not up to task as a singer, a composer or a producer. And having her beside him’s helped him realize all the things he can do as well as what he can be better at. He breaks the kiss but keeps his forehead pressed against hers. “Thanks, love”

“I can tell when you need a pep talk”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my left nipple starts aching” he laughs between them and curtly gropes her left tit.

“This one?” she pushes his hand away.

“Stop it!”

Their domestic week ends too fast, soon they’re back in London to record the rest of the album. Her words help him finish the song without any insecurity holding him back, in fact it inspires him so much that as soon as he gets to London he walks into Cartier and buys her engagement ring. He chooses a delicate one in rose gold with flowers engraved on it and a small diamond nestled between the carvings.

Today is the last day of recording at Abbey Road and he decides this is the day he’ll propose. However, to do it right, he’ll need a plan:

“Lou, keep her busy in studio 1” he instructs, gathering the four of them on a circle with their arms around their shoulders, almost like a football team, “mess up as many takes as you can-“

“That won’t be hard” he mocks.

“Liam and I will record the strings and the vocals at studio 3, remember, you have to stall her there”

“We get it mate, keep her in studio 1” Niall sighs tiredly.

“Right, when I call her up, you wait outside the hallway. I’ll play her the song and ask, if she says no... please, pretend like it never happened-“ Lou smacks the back of his head. “Ouch!”

“Stop saying that, focus!”

“Alright!... when she says yes, you can bring it on” they all nod excitedly, “Don’t forget to bring Frank up!”

“We’ve got this” Liam hypes, putting his hand in the middle so they follow. “3, 2, 1-“

“We push!”

The plan gets into motion when she arrives at the studio, leaving her coat at the door. She starts taking pictures of the lobby to send her Uncle, but as soon as she crosses the security Louis comes over and drags her to studio 1.

“Come on lass, we’ve got loads to do!” he pulls her by the hand playfully.

“Calm down, I can walk!” she groans but jogs behind him nonetheless.

While she’s busy recording Lou’s uncannily messy vocals, Harry and Liam greet a violinist that plays the sheet music for the chorus and the outro. They’re recording and mixing at the same time, hurrying to get a decent enough base for the vocals with what they’ve been working on for the past couple of days, skipping through compressors and equalizers just to get something done.

At the hallway, Niall is returning from the restroom when he catches Olivia sneaking out studio 1 to look for Harry.

“Oi! What’s up?”

“I can’t take this anymore, if Lou messes up one more time I’ll hit him with my shoe” she pulls her braids out of her face. “Where’s Harry?”

“I... I don’t think he’s here yet” he messes up the last few words. God he sucks at lying, and his hard accent doesn’t help one bit.

She frowns suspiciously, “You sure?”

“We can call him later, come on” he pushes her frustrated self back to studio 1, “we don’t have all day”

Few more hours pass and Niall replaces Louis in the recording booth to give her a break, they know he’s got the best intentions at heart but it’s not working a treat. Harry steps into the booth to record his vocals in one go, it doesn’t sound great but he can work on it better if they actually decide to put it on the album. He’s got a lot to prove with this song: for once, he has to prove himself as an artist that can make something incredibly specific and still relatable; and then prove himself to the band, even if it’s probably their last album he wants to be relevant in it. His songs were never really taken seriously, neither were Zayn’s, and he doesn’t want to thread the same path as him.

At last his input is enough, they get great takes and start mixing it together with time to spare — that is, until Louis rushes inside: “Lads, come on, she’s not buying it! Tell me you’ve got it”

“We’ve got it!” Liam replies enthusiastically but Harry holds him back.

“Wha- No! I-I haven’t got anything!” his heart starts racing as it never did before, the prospect of the big moment being so close terrifies him. “I’m not ready for it”

“Of course you are! Mate, you’ve been together for ages, this is just one more step” he encourages, holding Harry by his shoulders.

“Bloody hell... what if she says no?”

“She won’t say no!”

“What if she does?!”

“Then nothing changes! You keep on living your life just without a ring and a wedding date” Louis argues, crossing his arms casually as he tries do play it cool. “Now, can I call her in?”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods, Liam’s hands slip from his shoulder with a friendly pat. “You’ll be great”

They leave the studio with encouraging looks, leaving him alone and anxious in the vast studio. He pats his jacket to find the box safely stored inside his pocket, one more time he takes a deep breath. This is happening. The silence seems to extend for ages when the door opens again, this time for Oli to sneak in. Once he sees her it dawns on him what is about to happen, but he doesn’t panic... instead he feels at ease.

“What are you up to?” she tip toes inside and sits on his lap, pressing a quick kiss on his lips.

“Just checking this demo”

“Hmm, quite the professional!” she mocks, looking at the tracks. There’s too few of them, only one vocal track and three instrumentals. She’s about to mess with it when he holds her hand.

“Before you play... just bare with me, it’s not ready yet, it’s just a demo –“

“It’s okay Haz”

“– I know, but it just might not reach your standards...”

“Harry... look, I know how hard you’re working on this, I’ve watched you learn this bit by bit for years. I had a lifetime of learning what you learned in five years, don’t be harsh on yourself” she strokes his hair with a humble smile, as if she’s begging him not to torture himself about it. “Now, may I?” he nods in response so she hits the space bar.

The metronome count starts and a simple violin chord plays before Harry’s vocal kicks in blasting around the room’s sound system. Although she loves every piece of him to the bones, there’s something special about his raspy voice that gets her weak in the knees. She listens to it keeping her eyes fixed on the ground to better focus on her hearing. The first couple of verses are a bit weak, but she won’t say anything to an already nervous Harry. The following ones sound a bit better until it comes to the pre-chorus.

“Please believe me, don’t you see the things you mean to me oh! I love you, I love you, I love-I love- I love Olivia”

“Wait” she frowns at the computer, then the chorus progresses.

“I live for you, I long for you Olivia-“

“Oh my god...” her eyes turn to him in a bolt, he only smirks with those cheeky dimples of his and hugs her waist closer.

“... I’ll be now idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia. I live for you, I long for you, Olivia-”

“Oh my fucking god...” he laughs at her reaction, covering up her mouth in a struggled gasp. “You didn’t!”

“I did!”

“When you’re gone and I’m alone you live in my imagination, summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation. I love you, is all I do, I love you...”

She chokes a bit at the lyrics, and that is the moment Harry chooses to get the velvet box from his pocket and show it to her. “Oh, come on...” she cries absolutely overwhelmed at the sight of that beautiful delicate ring. She was successfully fooled, in no way would she ever imagine that the sound he was working so hard on was for her and that it was also his proposal... still, all she can do is smile and cry at the same time.

“I think I’ve said it all already, but still” he starts, her reaction causing him to tear up a bit. “You said you wanted a ring, a speech and an ugly cry”

“I did, didn’t I?” she tries to say through a sob.

“Will you marry me, love?”

“Yes! Of course!” she cups his cheek earnestly and kisses him with all she’s got, leaning into him gently but with the sheer will of a hurricane. She breaks the kiss only to wipe her own cheeks and leave a strained chuckle, “I swear to you, one of these days you’re gonna kill me”

“No way, who’s gonna finish the album” to that, she can only roll her eyes. “May I?” he takes her hand.

“Please” she watches him slip the delicate ring on her finger, astounded by his attention to detail. “It’s so beautiful... everything Haz, seriously, the song is...” she huffs, absolutely speechless. Harry smiles in satisfaction, lacing her hips as she hugs his neck pressing herself completely against him, feeling his love irradiating from every pore.

“I meant every word” he whispers, cupping the back of her neck and showering her with small pecks on the cheek.

“She said yes?” they both turn to the door and find Liam, Niall, Louis and Frank lining up at the frame waiting to come in.

“Of course she did!” Harry answers smugly.

“She said yes!” Lou screams, sparking a big celebratory mayhem of champagne popping and flying paper around them. “You should’ve seen his face when we left, he was totally passing out”

“He was shaking” Liam adds.

“Thanks mate, cheers”

“Were you stalling me today?” she points to Louis in accusation.

“In my defense, I was told to stall you for the whole afternoon”

“Can’t believe you were all in it... how long have you been outside?”

“We got here when the music started, I gotta say... it’s really good” Lou compliments, handing them plastic cups of champagne.

“Really good” Niall joins, “We should put it on the album... I mean, if you’re ok with it”

“I’m more than ok with that” she laughs.

“Than that’s it! Just missing another three songs” Louis mocks.

“Can we take a break? Just got engaged, if anyone noticed" Harry shrugs, his inner egomaniac begging the attention to turn back to him.

"Cheers!" they join cups in the center an down the content of their cups merrily, then doing it again this time with Harry and Olivia crossing their arms to do so.

A/N: and that's it! just a small taste, i've got more stuff cooking, adore you has been driving me crazy all week but i'm still figuring out how it makes me feel and how it can become a story... you'll see xx

Check more at masterlist

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bethd0456 · 3 years

Note

hellooo lovely! i loved reading your response to my last ask - apparently tumblr is messing up my asks bc a lot of them haven’t been going through :( but let’s hope this one does! i’ve been seeing that you watch cherry magic, and it’s one of my favourite shows at the moment!! 💘 who’s your favourite character? mine is kurosawa personally, i relate so much to him and his gayness. also udon chan, the cutest little cat! what did you think of the last ep, wasn’t it so cute!!! (1/2)

i hope you’re doing well!!! i also wanted to ask what your favourite shows and ships are! i already have a vague idea formulating just by browsing through your blog and over our shared love of cherry magic, but i’d looove to hear your thoughts and your favourites!! wishing you the bestest day! 💘 - your secret santa (2/2)

Hiiiii!!!! I hope life is treating you well!

Omg I'm so glad you enjoyed reading it! I hope you're ready for this MASSIVE answer and you don't get too bored reading this one!

CHERRY MAGIC!!!!!! It instantly became a comfort show for me, as it did for many others!

ADACHIADACHIADACHIADACHI. Adachi is 100% my fave. I never fully understood what a comfort character was. I was like, "yeah! I love Tine also!" But. Adachi is the definition of comfort for me. I see so much of myself in him! Everyone sees him and is like "babie. Must protecc." And honestly? Me too. How can one character be so damn CUTE??!?!? One of my favourite moments is him seeing Kurosawa after the almost-kiss. He just like, sees him, and gets so panicked 🥺 the way his arms just flail about makes me smile like an idiot.

But like, on a deeper level, this drama makes me believe I'm worthy of love. The idea that someone like Kurosawa could be THAT infatuated with you, even though you're an awkward virgin lmao. The point of watching these dramas is to get lost in a story, right? See a situation you want so badly but you know will never realistically happen? The entire premise of the show is just really enticing to me. I am Adachi, Adachi is me. Also, the thing he said in ep6 about not having a clear dream in life? Yeah. I felt that. I'm so envious of people who have passions they work so hard for, it gives them a form of purpose. Like Adachi, sometimes I feel like I'm living in a "daze". I feel like I don't really have any specific passions or skills that I want to develop into a career. Sometimes I just wish I had ambition. Adachi makes me feel so seen and like I'm not the only person who feels like this. The kinds of characters that usually make good protagonists are characters with a clear goal/passion. In most shows this obviously really works, but I can never relate to them personally. It's really special for me to see a character who's similar to me in this way.

Kurosawa is such an amazing character too!!!!! His gay little heart 🥺 on another level, he's just so?? Respectful??? 7. YEARS. 7 years of pining and he holds himself back so well!! He's been waiting for this relationship for so long but is so patient, willing to take things slowly for Adachi. He flirts shamelessly (as he should) but never to the point where Adachi was too uncomfortable.

He cares so much about Adachi :(. But also, even before he liked Adachi, he could tell he was uncomfortable with the drinking thing, so he DOWNED the wine lmao. Clearly he's just a lovely person all round who's really socially aware.

As for other characters:

• Udon my baby!!!! The cutest cat ever!! I love animals sm :(((

• Tsuge's chaotic energy is iconic

• Minato a lovely little dance machine :))

• Rokaku deserves the world, my excitable kiss interruptor :(((

• Fujisaki my love! She's so soft and cute!! Also ace coded how iconic

I ADORED ep8!!! I LIVE for established Adasawa! Adachi coming out to Tsuge :((( I'm so proud of Adachi coming to terms with his feelings and being confident enough to share his relationship with his closest friend. Coming out is not easy and he did so well 🥺

Adachi and Tsuge are so useless bless them 😂 Kurosawa really said "well I guess I have to take these two socially awkward disasters under my wing." Adachi and Tsuge are such a chaotic duo, I love that they can communicate just by touching each other, and omg when Kurosawa said his name Tsuge was "wait maybe I know everything about you already" and if that isn't friendship idk what is

Also Kurosawa making up a poem in his head about Adachi???? Peak romance. Also iconic. I'M A SUCKER FOR HAND HOLDING SCENES SO I DIED. "I like him. I like him. I like him!!" HOW CUTE CAN YOU GET FJKHDSHSKSK

I also got another arm flailing moment when Kurosawa almost got the wrong idea about Adachi and Tsuge!! CAN ADACHI STOP BEING SO CUTE MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT. How on earth his boyfriend is still alive I have no idea.

There are so many other shows and ships I love. I feel like I'll probably miss some, but here we go. These aren't rankings at all, just like, lists lol.

Show list:

1. 2gether

This show means so much to me. It was the first time I watched a bl week by week and it made it so much more special?? I valued scenes so much more than when I binge shows and they would like, look at each other and I'd have a heart attack. They made the first part of my quarantine bearable bc I always had something to look forward to every Friday. I actually really enjoyed quarantine overall as an introvert (not to be insensitive about the literal deaths the pandemic has caused), but I really enjoyed constantly thinking about how long it was until Friday. I'm massively emotionally attached to all of the characters in this show you have no idea. Every single one. The found family of it all,, the way all of the characters have relationships. Still2gether did a phenomenal job of showcasing all of the unexpected but very welcome dynamics and relationships, platonic and romantic alike. I could blabber about this show for so long I'll spare u for now

2. YYY

Is it well written? No. Did I enjoy it anyway?? You know it! I told you how much I love the found family trope. UGH. THIS FAMILY. Also, seeing the feminine side of the LGBT+ community represented positively warmed my heart. There needs to be more bls that do that! Celebrate femininity!! There's nothing wrong with being camp as fuck! It's so much fun!!! This show made me so happy :))

3. Start up

I'm currently obsessed. It's my first Kdrama and holy shit this is what the hype is about. The budget!! The acting! Top notch. On a sad note I really wish bls got that much funding behind them. My heart aches for a complicated story with fully developed characters and plotlines, that just happens to have a gay main couple/character. Wishful thinking for now at least. Anyways, I'm massively emotionally attached to Halmeoni and Jipyeong. Team Jipyeong all the way (even tho Dalmi's obviously gonna end up with Dosan, and I'm happy for them!). All I need is a happy ending for my darling Jipyeong. Please give him one. Also, if anything happens to Halmeoni I will WEEP.

4. Cherry magic is obviously here but I've ranted about that enough already 😂

5. 3 will be free

I would never have expected gmm to make a series like this! But they went and did THAT. Wild. It was such a healthy representation of a poly relationship. The themes of feminism were so well handled and powerful, the chemistry was off the CHARTS, I was hooked from start to finish! Time for a rewatch? I think so.

6. Feel good

Not an Asian drama, but still gay as FUCK. It's written by my wife Mae Martin who also stars in it, and I have to say, it blew me away. Story time!! My friend irl recommended it to me without saying it was Mae, so I was like "okay sure I'll put it on my to watch list I guess" without much motivation to watch it. But as soon as I found out it was Mae I watched it and I've never looked back lol. Once I finished I sent my friend a splurge of messages about my feelings. The series touches on issues like addiction, sexuality and gender. "I'm not a boy. I'm not even a girl. I'm like a failed version of both." That shit HURT.

There's a scene near the end which has really stayed with me. So Mae's character is a comedian and she does a set making jokes about the stuff that happened in the series and oh my GOD. The way I CRIED. It made me realise that people who make jokes about their experiences are using humour as a coping mechanism and when people say "Haha I have daddy issues isn't it funny" we have to remember to be respectful. It's never okay to make jokes about someone else's trauma. Don't make a big deal of it but just don't be a dick.

Anyways I could go on but would 100% recommend this series!

7. HIStory 2 crossing the line

My first bl! This series is the reason I'm so obsessed with bl lmao. The main couple are so soft :( this little series will always hold a special place in my heart!

8. Sotus

My first gmm series, we've come a long way. I miss Kong and Arthit :(

9. Dark blue kiss

Such a brilliant series. I trust P'Aof (director) with my life. This series touches on issues that are so important and deserve to be talked about so much more in bls. This is what happens when you let LGBT people tell LGBT stories! They do it with such care and love!! One of my favourite lines is "I may like men, but I'll never like your brother." One of my biggest let peeves is "I don't like men, I only like x." Like, I get the business behind it, they don't want to make the character gay to make them available for girls to fantasise about. Which is disgusting. But Mork really said "no. ❤" and I LOVE IT.

10. The shipper

I could go on and on about how underrated I think this series is. This series took over from 2gether on Fridays, and while I didn't think about this series constantly like I did with 2gether, this series made my quarantine brighter. Fridays meant I was gonna laugh at least once and forget about life just for a short while. The humour in this series is so fucking dumb lmao, but I'm here for it.

I've seen people talk about the shipper as a bl but I disagree. I think it's better described as a series with bl aspects. The main themes are friendship, family, dealing with loss, respecting boundaries of people you admire, and one of the main messages is about making sure the people close to you know how much they mean to you. Don't get me wrong, the majority of the series is over the top humour, but by the end of it I was personally really attached to the characters and their feelings. Overall I really enjoyed this series but I don't see anyone properly talk about it :(

11. Gaya sa pelikula

A series made by gay people for gay people. Shows like this are so important. This show really healed my soul with how brilliant the representation was :(( "remember we talked about microagressions" the way that means Vlad is constantly educating Karl about LGBT stuff, UGH. SO GOOD. Also this show has the most realistic representation of a crush I've ever seen lmao, soft Vlad is the best Vlad.

12. My engineer

My happy little Saturday show :( I miss the shit writing, shit acting and soft story of this series so much. I'm so fond of this series, I watched it after the horrible ep12 of 2gether and it really made me happy. I'm looking forward to season 2, but Ramking's novel goes DOWNHILL from here on. I know tricreation wouldn't allow the final chapter's scenes, but the entire story is so problematic and unenjoyable :(. The only valid scene is King's coming out scene but that's literally it. And the collar scene can stay lmao.

13. Oxygen

Another soft saturday series! I love this series so much, all of the couples are so bloody healthy and it makes me so happy. The communication is amazing!! THIS is how you show healthy relationships!!!

14. The gifted

S1 was so amazing!! I loved all of it! The only part of s2 we'll talk about is timegracethird. Time best boy!! Grace a feminist queen! When future Grace said they would be friends for a long time that made me so happy :(( also pangwave canon

15. Until we meet again

So I talked about the healthy relationships in oxygen. But uwma really showed the healthiest relationship ever. DeanPharm are just the softest little humans :( I would die for Pharm. He's the closest I got to a comfort character before Adachi. I just have to PROTECT HIM. My motherly instincts really kick in when I see him lmao.

The storyline of this series is just breathtaking. And the ending? I don't think I've ever cried that much. At all. It was so fucking beautiful 🥺

16. My gear and your gown

I really liked this show! Honestly I don't think I'll ever rewatch it but I definitely enjoyed it. The way Pai just seemed to breathe freely for the first time when his parents accepted his sexuality :(((( my baby :( also purefolk were brilliant

Ship list:

1. Saratine

These two are the definition of romance. They mean the fucking world to me. The fact that their story is apparently gonna be continued in some form makes me so. So. Happy. I cannot begin to describe it. My bet is on a special episode and ugh I'm so EXCITED.

2. Aini

Thonhonchonlatee in general is enjoyable but I don't like Thon at all. It's such a shame bc I was so excited for Khaotung and Podd to be in a series together :((. BUT. Aini have grabbed my heart. I knew they would bc miketap are brilliant, but wow. They're so gay my little babies :( miketap are just so natural and comfortable to watch. I love their chemistry so muuuuuuch

3. Sunmork

Coffee boyfriends :( I miss them so bloody much

4. Ramking

One of my fave ships. As I mentioned, I'm apprehensive about s2, but s1 ramking is such a beautiful story. It's just about 2 boys falling in love, no complications. Plant boy who's afraid of dogs falls in love with quiet boy who loves dogs but is afraid of children. Iconic. Also chemistry outsold, I THINK ABOUT THE KISS CONSTANTLY. When I mentioned the acting is shit in this series (shit is harsh, I mean awkward), I did not mean Perth and Lay in the slightest. They really nailed their roles and I loved it.

5. Professor Layton x Claire

You 100% won't get this reference but I grew up with the Professor Layton games and holy shit do they hold up. They're so amazingly written with beautiful stories and the most lovable characters in the world. Layton's intellect, loving nature and surprising athleticism are admirable. Adachi is the character I relate to most, but if I was gonna choose a character to comfort me irl, Layton's your man. His voice is so comforting by nature. I'm blabbering at this point but the point is him and Claire are the only het pairing that matters.

These are just the ships that I felt should be separate from their shows. I love all of the ships from the shows I mentioned.

Oof this got horrifically long, I haven't had a proper chance to rant about most of these shows so I really let it out lol. I hope you've watched at least some of these shows and I didn't just rant to u about 12 shows you've never heard of 😂

I hope you have a wonderful day love!!!!

#secretsanta'20

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