#maybe i should add a boarder around it

[kitkats--tiswacc]

wow it’s been a while since I’ve made an actual digital painting.

anyway here's Bruno.

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not really happy with his design here. He is surprisingly hard to draw. But after i stepped away from the piece and forgot about it kind of, i accidentally clicked on the program i was working on it with and thought “wow that's pretty good fan art someone did, wonder why I have it on here” then remembered, so I guess i must not think its that bad lol.  Anyway may redo it when I have more experience drawing this rat man.

#Encanto #disney bruno #encanto bruno #bruno madrigal #Fanart #green #disney encanto #maybe i should add a boarder around it #huh #bruno fanart #tío bruno #bruno madrigal fanart #encanto fanart

[iraacundus]

International Relations

arrangedmarriage!hendery

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

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

********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just don’t say it,” you warned.

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

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

Jeno pouted,

“So much for bestie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You banged your head against your textbook.

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

You were about to kick him when Jaemin nudged you.

“He’s here,” he said ominously,

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

“No, Hendery and Co.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You heard a small knock at your door,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled the best you could,

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

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

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

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

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

You tried to drink your tea as calmly as possible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t seem too bad,” she said.

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

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

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

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

You shot him a confused look,

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

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

“I will miss you all,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pushed a smile onto your face.

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

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

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

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

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

Hendery didn’t reply.

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

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

But you were only guessing you had no idea.

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

Hendery looked down and back up again.

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

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

“Why?” you asked, “I don’t bite,”

Hendery laughed slightly, shaking his head.

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

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

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

On reflection he probably thought the same about you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know it’s fake?” you asked her.

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

But this was… something else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hendery seemed to notice your impression of the kitchen.

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

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

You really wished you hadn’t eaten the McDonalds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cut him off,

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

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

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

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

Her once infallible expression now looked somewhat anxious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You exhaled, the tension you held inside releasing slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled genuinely at him.

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

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

Makeup Time!!! Upstairs third room on the left

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chanmi smiled,

“Your mother told me you loved flowers,”

That must have been where she got your phone number.

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

“It should be at the price it costs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He started to get down on one knee,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where did your engagement occur” they asked,

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned to Hendery,

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

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

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

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

You were about to leave when Hendery remembered something.

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

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

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

“Bye Hendery.”

“Bye bye future wife.”

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

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

This is y/n btw

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

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

You didn’t even want to talk to Jeno.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes narrowed before he chuckled.

“You’re a smart woman y/n.”

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

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

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

The music started up and you began to waltz.

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

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

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

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

You just had to fall in love with him first.

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

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

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

“Why are you sitting alone?” he asked.

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

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

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

“That’s not how I come across is it?”

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

He cut you off,

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

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

Hendery chuckled again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wiped the tears from your eyes furiously,

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

Your words seemed to cause Hendery more concern.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hendery chuckled.

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

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

You ran over and threw your arms around him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hendery saw you staring at it.

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

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

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

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

Hendery bit his lip,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why do you agree with him still?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hendery wrapped his arm around you pushing past the reports until Jeno could open the car door allowing both of you to climb in. Once they had gotten in the row of seats behind and all the doors were shut you breathed out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Hendery said quickly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I just…” You shook your head.

“No its fine, I’m not mad at you I just struggle with the situation as you already know.”

Considering Sicheng, Jeno and the driver were all also in the car neither of you took the conversation any further until you had gotten out of the car and were standing in the empty kitchen drinking water.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t like you,” you said to Hendery, “you’re a really nice person and if we had met under any other circumstance…”

It was Hendery’s turn to shake his head,

“You don’t need to explain.”

“I want to. You told me your feelings earlier I will return the favour.” You took a sip of your water, your mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

“I always knew I would end up marrying for political advantage, I never let myself like boys, not that I had the chance to meet any, I just thought maybe I would have a pick of three or something.” You stopped yourself, “Sorry again I really don’t mean that as an insult to you.”

“No I get what you’re saying…” he thought for a second, “That wasn’t your first kiss, oh I’m so sorry if it was… live on TV as well.”

You laughed.

“Don’t worry not quite the first, I kissed Jeno once actually a few years ago to see if we had feelings for each other, we realised very quickly we didn’t, we were mostly just bored I guess.”

You knew the same wasn’t true for Hendery, while he wasn’t as bad as Lucas he still had a reputation for girls leaving his hotel room at 3am. While you had abstained from romance all together, he had gone the other way and thrust himself into meaningless sex. You understood his choice even if it wasn’t the one you made.

“So you’ve never had a boyfriend?” Hendery asked, he wasn’t judging he was just curious.

“Nope, I’ve never liked a boy and so maybe that’s why all this with you is a bit harder but it doesn’t mean I’m mad you kissed me, you had no choice and we are engaged after all.”

Hendery took a few steps towards you, putting his drink down on the table. His eyes searching your face.

“Would you be mad if I kissed you now, when I did have a choice?” He asked. You thought about to for a second, while you weren’t in love with Hendery you did find him attractive and he was a caring person and you were going to spend your life married to him. So you made a choice.

“No, I wouldn’t be mad,” you said slowly, your heart beginning to beat faster. Hendery took two more steps forward, he reached over and took your drink out from your hand placing it down on the table.

He smiled,

“I think I like you y/n,” he said, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips and before you knew it he was kissing you. Tentatively at first, clearly trying not to overwhelm you but as you began to kiss him back more urgently he followed suit, his hands tangling in your hair as your own arms slid round his waist.

It was different to when you had kissed Jeno, it was so much more enjoyable, you realised that was because you liked Hendery. It felt like your whole body was on fire as his tongue played with yours gently, when he bit down slightly on your lip you let out a soft moan causing your ears to burn red.

But it didn’t dissuade Hendery, instead he smiled into the kiss, before going back to kissing you just as passionately before, pressing you up against the kitchen wall.

A few minutes later he pulled away.

“I think if I don’t stop now we will end up somewhere we don’t wanna go just yet, we do have a lifetime,” he joked, pecking your lips again.

“I think I like you too,” you said to him, your cheeks still red as he beamed at you.

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

You started to chat more to Hendery, meeting him in the garden after dinner sometimes, seeing if you were able to hide from Jeno and Sicheng, something you quickly realised was impossible.

You also quickly realised how stressful Hendery’s life was. While your father’s job had isolated you it had never been something you personally had to be involved with. Hendery’s work for his father was hard, especially on top of the university work you still both had, even if the professors were emailing it for safety reasons.

You had arranged to meet Hendery in the garden after lunch but he never arrived. You wondered around the house looking for him, eventually spotting Sicheng standing outside the library.

“Have you seen Hendery?” you enquired, Sicheng nodded his head lightly.

“He’s working in there, I guess he forgot to meet you… I wouldn’t take it personally the President is expecting a lot from him lately.” You truly felt bad for Hendery and how he was treated. All the President expected from you was to learn to sit straight, something you already learned at the age of four. The misogyny of the upper classes.

“Tell him he has to stop working by six, the doctors’ orders,” you said, “tell him to find me in the kitchen!” and before Sicheng could argue you had already raced back down the corridor to sort some things out.

You asked the people who worked in the kitchen where you could find the ingredients to make cookies, the immediately offered to make some for you but you assured them making them yourself was the point.

You stashed the cookie ingredients in the family fridge before racing off again. You had hours to set up your plan but you wanted it to be perfect so you wasted no time. If you weren’t allowed to be involved in state affairs you could at least support your fiancé who was.

Only a few doors down from your room was a little sitting room with a sofa and a tv that was seldom used. In the whole month you had spent in the house you had never seen another person in there.

One of the reasons setting everything up took so long was because you weren’t sure where things in the house were kept. You could have asked someone but you wanted it to be a secret between just you and Hendery.

So when Jeno asked why you were forcing him to run after you like a maniac you refused to give a reason.

You eventually found a cupboard where spare blankets and pillows were kept, chucking as many as possible on top of Jeno whilst picking up just as many yourself.

On the sitting room floor you laid out all the blankets and pillows until it looked as cosy as anything.

Working out how the TV worked was a half hour task in itself, it was so modern you weren’t sure how it worked or how the remote worked but eventually you found Netflix.

Sooner than you expected it you were standing back in the kitchen waiting for Hendery. He arrived not soon after at six-fifteen, his face slightly pale and a tired look on his face.

“Sorry I didn’t come meet you in the garden earlier I was just so busy…” you cut him off, placing a finger over his lips.

“No apologies, just fun relaxing activities,” you explained, pulling the cookie ingredients back out of the fridge.

It turned out neither of you had any clue how to bake but cookies were simple. Flour ended up everywhere and you couldn’t help but think how cute Hendery looked as he smiled, butter smudged on his cheek.

“We have to cook them for ten minutes, so they are still gooey,” you said, going over to the sink and grabbing a cloth, “your face is dirty come here.”

Hendery walked over to you and crouched down slightly so you could clean his face, you chuckled at how cute he was.

“All better,” you said, wiping the butter away, your eyes lingering on his cheek. Hendery caught your gaze and smiled.

“Come here you have something on your cheek too,” he said, you were confused you had checked in the reflection of the oven just a minute ago and there hadn’t been anything.

Hendery leaned in closer to your face before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. Your face blushed slightly pink as Hendery stood up straight again grinning.

“Oh maybe there was nothing there after all,” he said. You shook your head in mock disapproval, saved from your shy embarrassment by the noise of the cooker beeping.

You carefully removed the cookies from the oven and slid them into a bowl. Hendery reached in to take one but you swatted his hand away.

“You will burn yourself if you touch it now, and anyway they are for later.”

Hendery seemed confused. You didn’t bother explaining, you picked up the cookie bowl in one hand and took Hendery’s hand in your other and starting leading him to your blanket extravaganza.

You had gotten some staff to leave actual dinner in the room, you hadn’t been confident enough in either of your skills to make a whole dinner, it probably wouldn’t have had the light-hearted fun vibe you were after if you ended up with raw chicken.

“Pick a Netflix movie,” you said as you settled down into the blankets, eating your food as Hendery found a movie to watch.

By halfway through the film both of you had turned your focus away from eating and solely to the movie. But without the food to think about you began to notice more how close Hendery was sitting next to you.

He seemed to be slowly moving closer and closer to you, his hand resting nearer to yours by the minute. So when the movie reached a slightly scary part you felt no shame and hiding your face in Hendery’s arm.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he said, you glared at him jokingly.

“Says the man who is scared of frogs,” you teased back. Hendery’s mouth opened wide,

“How did you, how, what?” he asked.

“I’ve been asking around about you,” you said in your best attempt to flirt. Your isolated lifestyle hadn’t given you much practise.

“You’re cute,” he observed, looking down at you, taking the opportunity to place his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, “thank you for doing this,” he said over the sound of the movie playing in the background.

“If you ever need a break just call me up, I’m nonstop fun,” you said, immediately regretting how the statement had come across more sexual than it had in your head. Hendery just grinned.

“But seriously, I can tell your stressed and so if you ever want to talk about how stressed you are or just get things of your chest, I’m willing to listen.”

Hendery sighed lightly. He didn’t speak for a while, his hand fiddling with the corner of one of the blankets, his muscles slightly tensed.

“If… If you would be happier not marrying me, I want you to tell me, I will talk to my father, I will find a way. You’re too kind and beautiful a person y/n to be stuck marrying someone for politics. I want you to be happy.”

His words shocked you but you couldn’t help smiling but not for the reason Hendery thought. You wriggled out from under his arm moving to sit directly in front of him, your legs crossed opposite where he sat, hugging his legs.

“Meeting you has been the one thing that has seemed like real life to me, even if this is an orchestrated marriage, The fact that you would be willing to talk to your father to make me happy, is the exact reason I am willing to try marrying you. Even if there is another way, I still choose this way.”

Hendery still looked conflicted.

“But what if, in the future, you don’t feel the same way, you regret making this choice, choosing me?” he asked.

“While I still don’t consider this marriage a choice, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t chose to date you under different circumstances. And you are correct, I cannot see the future and someday I may not feel how I feel now. But I know two things that are true. One is that your father is unlikely to listen to you no matter what and so this marriage is still necessary. Two, right now the thought of marrying you doesn’t scare me, it makes me somewhat happy, even if the circumstance doesn’t. Even if marriage for us is like dating for others, I chose right now to take responsibility for not even letting you try to convince your father.”

You looked straight into Hendery’s eyes. The hope that you saw appear in his eyes was enough to make you want to cry. This marriage to Hendery, the chance to make you happy, it was his hope, the only hope he felt he had of doing something positive.

Your marriage to Hendery was going to bring good to the world, to his world and your own. You knew that was something to be proud of, you knew that you wanted to love him.

You kissed his lips briefly before pulling away again.

“You should sleep,” you encouraged him, “you are handsome but tired looking.”

“It would be a better sleep if you slept with me,” he joked with a wink. You pushed him lightly on the shoulder.

“Whilst I may have kissed someone before you, I have not shared a bed with a guy before and will not be starting today,’ you asserted. Hendery nodded, getting up,

“Well my door is always open, I’m a great at cuddles.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly.

“Goodnight y/n,” he said, “I will sleep better dreaming of you.”

You blushed in the darkness of the room as he walked away. The man was to charming for his own good.

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

You saw it on the news first,

“Breaking story, five tourists from our neighbouring country have been arrested on suspicions of undisclosed crimes, they are currently being held by the state government, a decision that is being viewed with mixed reactions.”

You stood up, your first instinct to go to Hendery’s study and ask him if he knew what was going on.

But when you tried to leave your room you found it looked from the outside, something you hadn’t known was possible. You began to bang on the door, shouting at whoever had locked it on the other side, but to no avail.

You eventually sat back down and turned the news back on, having no other real plan of action. The news revealed that the tourists had supposedly robbed a bank but it was an accusation you were very suspicious of.

You tried ringing Hendery but every time the phone went straight to voicemail and you didn’t bother leaving a message. You tried searching the internet but you didn’t have a 3G signal and the Wi-Fi seemed to be broken.

You rang your mother next to ask if she knew anything, she said that all she knew was that there had been no bank robbery and they were being held as political leverage. You wanted to scream, you picked up the closet item to you, a shoe, and threw it as hard against the wall as possible.

At the same time you heard the lock on the door turn and Sicheng enter,

“Are you all right?” he asked, “I heard a bang.” You couldn’t believe Hendery’s personal guard was the one keeping you locked up.

“Why can’t I leave?” you asked, “Why won’t Hendery pick up my calls?”

“The President doesn’t want to risk the chance you could talk to the press… as for Hendery I don’t know… as soon as he heard what was about to happen he insisted I tell Jeno we swapped guarding duty for the day.”

After seeing you were okay Sicheng left again, locking the door once he was outside. You wanted to believe that Hendery played no role but the changing of the guards so that Jeno couldn’t let you out was suspicious.

A few hours later Sicheng opened the door and passed you some food into the room but you felt too sick to eat. What was the point of the marriage if it didn’t even keep your country people safe.

Finally your phone rang, Hendery was calling you back. You wanted to ignore it out of spite but you knew the situation was more important than that.

“What the fuck Hendery,” was all you said when you picked up.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“Don’t be sorry, just explain to me what the actual fuck is going on here.”

“My father will let them go… he just needs your father to agree to one of the more controversial trade terms. I asked him not to do this, I really tried but,”

“You didn’t have to get Sicheng to guard me,” you countered. Hendery paused for a second.

“I… I just don’t want my father to get angry at you, Jeno would have let you leave and then he would have been fired and my father… he would have made life harder for you and your country,” he tried to explain.

“I’m not seven Hendery I can make my own choices. Your choice to ensure I’m locked up means you don’t trust I won’t do anything stupid any more than your father would.”

You were really angry, to an extent you understood Hendery’s motivations, you understood he was trying to help you. Yet you also disagreed with his methods and you were angry he didn’t trust you.

“I’m smart enough to know that talking badly about your father to the press wouldn’t help achieve what we are trying to with this marriage…” you didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

“I’ll send Jeno back,” Hendery said, his voice barely a whisper, “I never want to upset you y/n that will never be my goal, I know your intelligent, probably more so than me. My father is a scary man and I let my fear of him overpower my trust in you and for that I really do apologise.”

“If you look into your own heart, and you find nothing wrong there, what is there to worry about? What is there to fear?” you replied.

“Is it really time to quote Confucius?” Hendery asked. You smiled to yourself.

“I was just proving I really am intelligent, and anyway I mean it, you are a good person Hendery, trust me, yourself, our marriage will outlast your father and then maybe things can change.”

“My closest ally on the advisory board thinks they will release the prisoners tomorrow and call the situation a misunderstanding, just wait until then,”

“Goodnight,” you said before hanging up the phone. You were still angry, but not at Hendery. You had never made a habit of disliking people never mind hating them, but the President was a man you really hated.

The next afternoon at around 4pm the tourists were released and a short statement was made about a cultural misunderstanding. One the President hoped would not be repeated in the future after the joining of the two nations.

You wanted to stab him through the TV, but why waste a perfectly good TV.

You heard a small knock at the door, you thought it was Jeno telling you that you could come out now, roam free, inside the prison of a house.

Instead stood Hendery, eyes as tired as ever, his face as defeated as your own. He said nothing, merely walked over to where you were perched at the end of your bed and sat down.

He opened his mouth to speak but you shook your head.

“Nothing we can say makes it better, so it’s better to say nothing at all,” you said, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him towards you. For those few minutes where you just hugged him you thought of nothing. You worried about nothing, you just felt the peace that holding him close brought you.

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

“You look beautiful,” Jaemin said to you, you think it was the nicest comment he had ever said to you, it was your wedding day after all, “I’m still sad you wouldn’t let me be a bridesmaid.”

You resisted the temptation to chuck some hairpins at him. You hadn’t thought your bodyguards would have looked good in dresses so you had convinced Hendery to make them the other three of his five groomsmen along with Sicheng and Lucas.

“I think Chanmi looks prettier in pink,” you replied, which was only followed by more protests of ‘”she’s wearing blue, not pink,”- a technicality.

Speaking of Chanmi,

“Five minutes,” she called out. You pushed your earrings in, your hands trembling slightly as you got up and saw yourself standing in front of the mirror dressed in white. The gown was beautiful, expensive, everything you could have dreamed of.

You felt so sick. Jeno walked over and grabbed your hand. He was going to walk in front of you the whole way with Chanmi, the male bridesmaid Jaemin wished he could be.

Chanmi held your other hand and squeezed tightly, reassuring you as they led you down the stairs and out to the car in which your father was waiting. Jeno sat in the front as Chanmi gathered up your dress, making sure it all fit in the car before sitting down beside you.

“What a beautiful day for it,” your father remarked. You nodded back but didn’t open your mouth to speak, you thought you would throw up if you did.

The car drove on in silence, you clutched at some vow cards Chanmi had prepared for you. Reaching over and rolling down the window you chucked them out.

“I’ll just wing it,” you said to her horrified glance, but she never let go of your hand.

The car pulled up outside the church moments later, you could hear the low murmur of the guests inside as Jeno opened the door and helped you out.

Sicheng who was waiting by the door for the rest of the groomsmen looked less anxious to see they had actually arrived just in front of you. They headed inside the church as you tried your best not to hyperventilate outside on the church steps.

“Being your best friend has been my honour,” Jeno said to you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. Through your panic you still managed to look up at him confused.

“You will always be my best friend, getting fake married doesn’t change that,” you replied. Jeno held both of your hands,

“You are not getting fake married though, it may not be a marriage of love but it is a real marriage and for that reason I really hope for you, that he becomes your best friend, that he can take my place and support you like I always have. We never loved each other like that but I hope he loves you like that because you will always be my almost sister and I love you. Don’t be afraid, you’re saving a nation, be proud, and love him too,” he said, a tear fell from your cheek, “no crying, someone worked hard on that makeup.”

You let go of his hands and hugged him.

“I love you too almost bro,” you said as the wedding march began to play and some flower girls that you didn’t even know entered through the doors. Chanmi ran over and gave you a quick hug.

“You will rule the world one day y/n,” she laughed as she let go, handing Jeno a bouquet as they both walked in after the flower girls.

Just you and your father were left, you wiped the tear from your cheek and walked over to him, putting a smile on your face. You could tell he was already sad, you didn’t want to make it worse.

“Time to get married,” you whispered, linking your arm with his and staring onwards. 

The doors opened and you stared down the aisle in front of you. You saw Jaemin, Renjun and Chenle standing next to Sicheng and Lucas on the stage. You saw the reverend, you saw your mother, Jeno and Chanmi sitting in the front row, you saw the president and his wife sitting on the other side.

Finally your eyes focused on him as you got closer, step by step.

The sickness you had once felt, gone, the moment you locked eyes with him. His eyes held the same trepidation as yours but the shone through the church as he looked at you.

Your father let go of your arm, kissing your check, before you took Hendery’s hands instead.

The reverend read out a whole spiel but you weren’t really listening, you just stared up at Hendery, trying your best to focus on him and not falling over.

“Today, I promise you this: I will laugh with you in times of joy, and comfort you in times of sorrow. I will share in your dreams and support you as you strive to achieve your goals. I will listen to you with compassion and understanding, and speak to you with encouragement. Let us be partners, and friends, today and all of the days that follow,” Hendery said. His words were the first ones you had really heard.

You took a sharp breath inwards realising it was your own turn to speak.

“I had prepared something to say, but I wanted to speak from the heart instead. I promise to do my best to love you and live harmoniously with you as long as we both shall live, to take on the challenges life gives us together. I hope that our marriage can serve as a sign of peace and that the world can feel compassion as deeply as I know you feel it,” you said.

“Do you, y/n y/l/n, take Hendery Wong to be your lawfully wedded husband,” the reverend asked,

“I do,” you replied, your voice thankfully not shaking.

“Do you, Hendery Wong, take y/n y/l/n to be your lawfully wedded wife,”

“I do,” he said, staring down at you with a smile.

“I know pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride,” he said and so Hendery leaned down, kissing you. Only for a few seconds, there were children present, but it was enough to make you blush.

You pulled Hendery into a hug and whispered in his ear,

“I wish I could have chosen to marry you,” you said. Hendery shook his head, still smiling for the crowd.

“I’m feel lucky to get to marry you y/n, whatever the circumstance,” he said, causing you to genuinely smile. Hendery let go from your hug and threw your clasped hands in the air as you walked back down the aisle and out of the church.

The reception was actually quite dull to start off with, you had to greet many political figures, most of whom you didn’t personally know, there was also the ordeal of extended family which hardly ever went well for anyone.

It got a bit better when Lucas and Jaemin got so drunk they started to perform karaoke standing on tables as Chenle cried with laughter watching.

Your first dance with Hendery had been sweet but after that you and Hendery had mostly decided to sit at the side together, exhausted by the whole affair.

By about midnight your head was resting on Hendery’s shoulder as you began to doze off, partly from tiredness, partly from alcohol. Hendery chuckled at how cute you looked.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, about to pick you up when you insisted you could walk. Hendery put his arm around your waist, supporting your drunk figure as he lead you to the elevator. You walked along the corridor before he pulled out the key card, letting you both into the presidential suite.

It had two bedrooms and so he walked you towards the bigger one, helping you sit down on the bed.

Chanmi and Sicheng had made sure you both had stuff there and so she had left you a pair of pyjamas to get changed into. Hendery handed them to you and turned around so he didn’t see you getting changed.

“I can’t do the zip,” you complained, tapping Hendery on the shoulder.

“oh yeah right sure,” he said, turning back around and unzipping it for you, blushing when you pulled the dress down before he could turn around again.

“Don’t be silly, we are married,” you said, making fun of him in your drunken haze.

“Doesn’t mean I cant still respect you,” he said, “I’ll go get changed myself and come back in a sec okay?” he said to which you nodded. You took your underwear off and replaced them with the white satin pyjamas Chanmi had left.

Hendery walked back in with a matching pair. You went and brushed your teeth together before Hendery urged you to climb into bed.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said about to leave before you sat up and stopped him.

“Married couples sleep in the same bed,” you protested.

“You’re drunk, y/n, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Snuggling is definitely fine,” you said, something which Hendery struggled to argue with. He put his phone down on the bed side table and shuffled in beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

“I think I could get used to this,” he said, his chin resting on your shoulder. You rolled over to face him.

“You have a good face,” you said. Hendery burst out laughing,

“You’re so cute,”

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

“So this was your tactic then,” Hendery laughed back, placing a small kiss on your lips, “try and sleep y/n,”

Your face became sad,

“Do you not want to sleep with me?” you asked.

“I’m here, I’m going to sleep right next to you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You shook your head.

“No sleep with me sleep with me,” you clarified, your words slurring together. Hendery’s eyebrows furrowed. When he saw your sad expression through the darkness he smiled slightly, laughing.

“It’s not a question of wanting to, you’re beautiful and I really like you y/n of course I want to do all those things with you, but I’m not having sex with you for the first time when you are drunk, when you can’t give proper consent. Especially for your first time.”

It slowly dawned on you even as drunk as you were that Hendery was much more experienced with relationships than you were, it wouldn’t have been hard.

“You don’t mind that I have never had a boyfriend before, that I have never had sex before,” you said, whispering the latter part.

“You don’t have to whisper it’s not a bad word,” Hendery laughed, “And of course I don’t mind, as I said, I’m fully committed to you and we have the rest of our lives, for now we can just cuddle and sleep okay?”

You seemed satisfied with his answer, falling asleep moments later with his arms around you and waking up the same way nine hours later.

You didn’t feel embarrassed in the morning when you remembered the conversation because Hendery didn’t make it feel like something that was at all embarrassing, he just made you feel calm and safe.

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

By that afternoon you were on a flight to a private island, owned by Hendery’s family. His grandfather had owned a brewery there and his own father had worked there before he became president.

Other people lived on the island, local people who would have recognised the two of you and alerted the press with photos.

So before you went to the beach you both put on ridiculously large hats and sunglasses on.

“James Bond has nothing on us,” Hendery remarked as you laughed at his stupid pineapple sunglasses.

“No one would expect the President’s son to dress like this.”

You spent the day on the beach, building a not so impressive sandcastle, jumping through the waves, splashing each other.

Once you had somewhat dried off, Hendery grabbed your hand and led you over to a little ice cream stall where an old man was selling ice cream. Hendery ordered you both one.

“You are a very cute couple,” the man remarked, “is it a special occasion?”

“It’s our honeymoon,” you replied, “we just got married yesterday.”

“Congratulations to both of you,” he said with a smile.

“That’s a rite of passage, isn’t it,” Hendery said as you walked home,

“What is?” you asked,

“Being told we are a cute couple by an older person.”

You giggled as you licked your ice cream,

“I suppose it is.”

You showered after you got back, changing into an outfit Chanmi had packed for you, the dress was lovely, the underwear choices slightly racy.

You walked out onto the patio where Hendery had laid out a fancy table for the two of you. There was a rose in the middle and he held out your chair for you to sit down.

“I have to admit, I didn’t cook the food, I didn’t think that would impress anyone,” he said.

“You don’t need to impress me, I already think you’re great,” you said, sitting down. The food really was good, but you made sure not to drink too much wine to avoid a repeat of the night before.

Your conversation died down comfortably after a while and you both took a moment to stare out at the orchard and the sea that was behind it. You really hoped you and Hendery could move to the island permanently one day. Instead of returning to the Presidential House.

You turned back to see Hendery who was staring at you, a dopey smile on his face.

“I love you,” he blurted out, your heart skipped a beat, “I wanted to say it to you yesterday but I wasn’t sure if you would remember but I love you and I hate my father sometimes but marrying you is the best thing that has happened in my life. We may have married for the sake of international relations but I love you for you.”  

You smiled, standing up as he stood up and walking round to stand in front of him.

“I love you too,” you said, “after meeting you I realised I hadn’t really been living real life before, it sounds cliché but you brought colour to my lonely monocoloured life.”

You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in to kiss you,

“Will you let me have sex with you know?”

“You don’t know how long I have dreamed of this moment y/n,” he said, staring down at you with love in his eyes,

“The confession of love or the sex?” you joked,

“honestly, both,” he said laughing before bringing his lips back to yours. His lips trailing kisses down your neck before you grabbed his hand and pulled him back inside towards the bedroom.

You barely made it inside the bedroom door before he was kissing you again, your back pressed up against the wall. He gasped slightly when you moved your hands under his shirt, your finger touching his nipple briefly, before pulling off his shirt.

He reacted by unzipping your dress,

“is this okay,” he asked, not pulling it off you until you nodded,

“It’s all okay, Hendery, I want you.” It was all the confirmation he needed. He couldn’t help but admit that it turned him on, being the first and most likely the only man to ever get to touch you like this, now you were married now you were his and he was yours.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said as he unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor. One of his hands massaged your breast, the other placed against the wall as your lips met.

Your attention sprung to the growing length underneath his black jeans. You had never seen a dick before in real life.

“Take your jeans off,” you asked him slightly breathless, he was happy to oblige, pulling his jeans off over his legs.

He picked you up bridal style, literally sweeping you off your feet, before placing you back down on the bed,

“As hot as it would be I’m not gonna fuck you for the first time against a wall,” Hendery explained, you nodded,

“Less talking more touching,” you demanded, Hendery grinned a wicked grin.

“That I can do.” Before you knew it he was placing kisses up your thigh, his finger grazing over the top of your soaked panties before pulling them down and throwing them behind him. It was your first time so he knew he had to stretch you first as he inserted a single finger but it was enough to make you let out a sharp moan.

You wriggled slightly in pleasure as he began to pump his finger in and out, before you knew it he had added a second, which was slightly painful at first but at the same time you felt his tongue over your clit, moving in circles and pleasure took over.

“Shit Hendery,” you called out, you could already feel your orgasm building so when Hendery began to move his fingers faster, you let go, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“Such a good girl for me,” he said. You looked up, regaining your sense to see Hendery was still wearing his boxers. A small wet patch had formed at the end of his hard length. You sat up pushing Hendery down.

“My turn,” you said.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Hendery replied.

“But I want to.” You pulled at his waistband, letting his cock spring free. It was slightly bigger than you had imagined and defiantly not as repulsive, in fact the thought of sucking his dick made you wet all over again.

“Tell me how,” you asked him, kneeling down.

“Well start by touching me,” he encouraged, guiding your hand with his own until it was wrapped around the top of his dick, “now slide your hand down and put your mouth where your hand was.”

You leant over and placed your tongue on the tip, licking slightly before putting it into your mouth. Hendery moaned lightly as you began to suck, taking in as much of his dick as possible before moving your mouth back up,

“yeah, fuck, like that,” Hendery groaned.

You tried to take a little bit more into your mouth each time until eventually it caused you to gag slightly, at which Hendery’s dick began to twitch, you kept sucking as his breath quickened and he finally came in your mouth, cum shooting down your throat as you swallowed.

“Jesus,” Hendery said, bringing his lips to yours, the taste of his cum still on your lips, “you are something special y/n,”

He brought his hand down to your folds, checking you were still wet enough for him. He propped himself up with his arms before placing his cock at your entrance.

“Tell me if it hurts, I will go slow, I wont move until you tell me to okay and if you don’t like it we can stop.” He said.

You nodded though you doubted after the first part of the experience that you would want to stop.

When he first pushed in it did hurt, as he moved in and out slowly it stung slightly but with each small thrust the pain was replaced with pleasure. When you finally let out a moan, Hendery started to thrust deeper,

“You’re doing so well for me y/n, you’re so fucking tight,” he hissed, his own pleasure preventing him from talking further.

Neither of you were going to last long and Hendery’s dick was beginning to pulse inside of you.

“I love you,” he managed to say as he came, filling you up with his cum, the feeling of it prompting your own orgasm as you moaned his name loudly.

Hendery kissed your lips softly, hugging you for a moment, before offering to help you clean up, wiping his cum from beneath your legs softly.

“I really do love you y/n,” he said as you both settled back into bed to sleep.”

“I love you too,” you said. What had started out as a sick game between politicians in the name of peace had ended up as something beautiful, as love.

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

In the years following life wasn’t always the easiest, the President wasn’t a good man and he made life tough sometimes and you struggled, but you struggled together. You were happy with each other.

You got to know each other more every day and you fell in love more every day. You had two children together and two years after that you renewed your vows in secret with only your children and your closest friends present, to make it clear you did choose to love each other, even if you hadn’t chosen to marry each other.

Ten years later when the President died of a heart attack, came the hardest choice for you both. Most of the country expected Hendery to take over from his father, to become the next leader. He could have, he would have been a brilliant and fair President, but it wasn’t something either of you wanted, you didn’t want the dictatorship to go on. Hendery allowed the people to choose a new president, elections were held for the first time in many years.

Instead of becoming a dictator like his father Hendery moved back to the villa with the orchard with you and your two children. You went to the same beach and built sandcastles with your kids as you had on the first day of your honeymoon.

The orchard where you had both confessed your love was so beautiful. The island didn’t belong to his country or yours. It was on an island that belonged to both of you.

You bought Chanmi and Jeno the house next door, they had gotten married just three years after you, something that had brought you immense happiness. Jeno didn’t guard you anymore but you both lived close enough to watch out for each other, still the closest of friends.

Your children grew up and played together, went to school together. You lived a life that was happy. You had married to bring the world peace but you had also found peace in your heart. Marrying Hendery had once seemed like a cursed fate but really it had been the most blessed fate of all.

You didn’t think people would ever believe such a happy story could come out of an arranged marriage in which the proposal had occurred in the bathroom. It summed up you and Hendery, neither of you knew exactly why you worked but you did. From the day in the bathroom, to the night of the attack, to your marriage to then. You realised you had always seen yourself loving Hendery.

Your love was the only possible outcome.

#hendery #hendery scenarios #hendery smut #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv scenarios #hendery fluff #wayv fluff #hendery fics #wayv fics #hendery imagine #wayv imagine

[grantiskeith]

The Garden Path to Hell (William x reader) Pt1

Words: 1.4k

"Here's a pipe for you sir Price is 5 and 2 sir Can you see the garden, It's just a lovely garden I'll take you there, I know the path so well. To hell" -Garden Path to Hell, Mystery of Edwin Drood I was one year in. I had my 25 acres of part woods, part hedge garden for one year now and it finally had started to take shape. French style hedges lined the paths, rose bushes and hydrangeas created a beautiful garden. Complete with one greenhouse. Only working on the weekends made this project take forever but by August, it looked great. I had saved for this property and had worked hard at work to finance it. However, it could look better. Someone had dropped $15,000 into the donation box, and I just couldn't take that money. I pulled a clover out from the center of the gravel path heading back to the greenhouse and my car. The sun had just disappeared from the horizon. My gravel paths were lined with lights creating a beautiful nighttime display of plants in the dark. A sight I thought I was enjoying alone. My heart started beating in my head, was that a person walking toward me or just a shadow? "Hello?" I asked, potentially to the figure in my imagination. "Good Evening" a soft voice spoke back to me. In this part of the country, you don't tress pass on someone's property unless you're prepared to get shot. Tonight, I was more scared of him. "Hi! Can I help you?" I replied in the costumer service voice you typically use when someone has a gun. "I apologize for intruding on your land at such a late hour" his voice was so smooth but jarringly German. He walked a bit closed and I took a few steps back. "Oh I appear to have frightened you, please forgive me." "Is there something you're here for?" I tried to sound firm but my voice was shaking. I took a deep breath. "I figured we should finally meet. This land, which you have purchased a year ago yes? Boarders my own land. There to the east." "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" I said, relaxing a bit more, "you're the neighbor I haven't met yet. The lot with 550 acres of wood land?" "Yes that is mine, a beautiful land which I share with my family, along with a few other properties in the area" "It's nice to meet you" I held out my hand for a shake. "William Solaire" he took my hand in his and gently kissed the top of it, "It's a pleasure and an honor to meet the creator of this beautiful garden." "Oh" I stuttered. I felt my face get red and all the blood in my body rushed. It was so flattering that I almost ignored how cold and heavy his hand felt. "Thank you, it's been a passion project of mind this summer." "I would be honored if an artist as skilled as yourself would allow me to walk the paths with you." He almost seemed to bow in his posture. "I would love to" He crooked his arm, offering me his elbow. Stranger danger, personal safety, and instinct all seemed to melt away in a second. My breath had caught up to me and I just couldn't think of a reason not to take his arm. My hand gently curled around his bicep in a very old fashioned style. "You clearly have an eye for hedge gardens, the precision in the landscaping rivals the traditional Gardens of Versailles" he said leading me down the path were the flower garden ends and the knee high hedge began. "You flatter me, Mr. Solaire please. I know full well the many flaws. I should ask you, are you the secret donor? Someone left a sizeable amount of money for my land, and I do believe it was you" I turned to look at him. "Ah, you have caught me. I wanted to see it invested in a worthy project such as this" "Mr. Solaire, I cannot in good faith accept that amount of money as a gift. And being in the poessaion of that money, I am unable to morally spend it on a private garden." I let go of his arm but I continued to walk next to him. "It is a gift for you, please use it as you please." his voice was so insistent but still calm. He gave me a smile. It looked so genuine but there was something missing from his eyes. "You and me are to be friends I hope, please call me William." "I think what I please, William, is to return

the money to you." "If you insist, I understand. But may I suggest one thought" he smiled and notioned around to the garden, "I would like to make an investment in you, consider it a downpayment for you to expand the grandiose of your land. Maybe even surpass the gardens of Versailles" he laughed. "Well, I did want to add a few statues and possibly a water feature." I thought to myself. He offered his elbow again. We walked a few more steps together in silence. He guided me around the labyrinth of landscaping I had dedicated my weekends to. "Tell me, how did you come to aquire your acres?" He broke the silence. "I'll speak honestly, as you likely know this land has been vacant for some time so it was quite cheap" I thought for a second. "Maybe you could tell me why, the agent almost begged me to buy it" "Really?" William nodded "I started receiving letters from people in the near by town warning me about this land. Some people even told me it was haunted and that's why no one ever bought it. I believe that is ridiculous, the only thing that goes bump in the night are the raccoons I catch in my compost" That earned a very German laugh from William. "I was told stories of people who bought this land and were never seen again. There's no house because entire construction crews would disappear overnight. Can you believe that?" "I have heard the rumors as well. These woods do hide dangers but none of the magnitue the towns people share with you" William's smirk was lit up by the light poles above him. "That being said, I came to meet you with a specific task in mind." My heart starting pounding again, suddenly remembering his position as a stranger. "I came to warn you and prevent any of those dreadful rumors from coming true. There are wild animals that cross my land onto yours occasionally, wolves, coyotes, even a few people. You should not be alone at night and you should not trust anyone you see on your land. I am grateful you trusted me long enough to share this with you." My face was red and flustered. Is this a threat? Is this an attempt to have me sell my land? Was the money a bribe? "I would like to give you my personal cellular number. If you ever see anyone on... I deeply apologize, I had no intention on scaring or upsetting you" he spoke very quietly, almost so I had to listen closely. "I have taken care of this property for a year, on my own for a year. Forgive my free speech, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am not sure where you have been and why we have not met but I have not needed any protection this entire time." He stopped for a moment, clearly unsure of what to say. He turned around and admired a rose on a bush. A sign of vulnerability. He turned around again. "I do not for a moment doubt your capabilities, forgive my Faux Pas if I implied as such. I am simply offering a criminally belated hand in friendship." He reached into his breast pocket and handed me a simple black and white business card. "Please call me if you see anything on your land without your permission. I would like to see you last far longer on this land than the previous owner." I took it and slipped it in my pocket. I took a breath, "thank you" I told him. "I have enjoyed our walk but it is very late and I need to be returning to my car" "Let me walk you back down this lovely garden path. It's such a lovely garden." The crickets and cicadas sung loud into the night while I spent a few more minutes with a new friend.

#redacted asmr #redacted William #redacted Will #vampire fic #I am manifesting a garden rn

[icollectyoursins]

Kishibe Rohan x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon said: “Consider Rohan sfw and nsfw hcs? And in nsfw Rohan could be a top,,? Prrtty pleade hhh, since there is only one work of Rohan ;;”

I hope these are good, not too familiar with Rohan, so I hope you like it!

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, stands used in inappropriate ways, fingering, voyeurism, dildos, fucking machines, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, oral, face fucking, cock warming, nipple play, nude modelling. 

Word Counts: 2201

SFW

Rohan is a jackass who cares. In the beginning, he’s very private and stand-offish, but he does warm up to you eventually, though he’s still nicer in private than he is in public. He claims this is because he’s a “celebrity” and can’t have his fans see you too close together yada, yada. It’s bullshit and you know it, but you have the feeling it’s because he’s not used to people being close to him. 

Yes, he does have a binder dedicated to paintings, drawings, sketches, etc. all for you. Some are a little on the artistically lewd side, but most of them are of your hands holding something or your smile, your face and shoulders. Some of them he asked you to model for, others he quickly sketched down while you weren’t paying attention and then finished later.

When he’s not holed up inside, he enjoys walking down to either parts of Morioh where he can people watch or down to the park where he can study wildlife (and maybe draw you playing with ducks). 

You are literally never bored in his house. He has every book under the earth and so many loose painting supplies that he painfully lets you use to fool around. (Though let’s be honest, He likes that you take an interest in his job and would be more than happy to give you tips.)

You know what? Rohan is a backseat artist. He watches every stroke you make over your shoulder and tells you maybe you should move the hand this way to make it more natural or add some light shading here to make it dynamic. It may come off as a little pretentious at first, but if you keep with it, he’ll notice the improvement and (occasionally) tell you how good you’re doing while being a total blushing mess.

    You sat in the window seat, knees up with your back against the wall. Resting on your thighs was a sketchbook. Currently, you were just idly drawing lines of shading onto a face. Rohan himself was also busy colouring in his most recent page, though every now and then he would catch himself looking up at your silhouette, lit up by the light in some kind of halo effect.

     Finally, he caved in to his curiosity. Setting down his pencils, he strode over to you. You didn’t notice until his face manifested itself over your shoulder. Startled, you jumped, causing your pencil to make a long line on your artwork. 

     “Jesus, warn me next time.” You said, grabbing your eraser.

     “Have you been struggling with the nose?” He completely ignores you, still staring at your drawing. The paper was clearly marked up by the eraser with deeper marks from where the pencil was.

     “Yeah, actually. It’s either too big or too small. Kind of just gave up.” You carefully tried to erase the long line but wound up taking away parts that you were actually happy with.

     “Be more gentle with the pencil, it’ll make it easier to erase.” He suggested with a monotone.

     “I tried-”

     “And then you got frustrated and pushed harder. I admire your persistence, however, if something isn’t to your liking, walk away and come back. Remember to look at the picture as a whole, not just the nose.” You rolled your eyes, gently tossing your pencil onto the window seat. As much as you wanted to appreciate the advice, you had heard it all before. You were getting sick of it, frankly.

     Rohan took note of your agitation, studying your face carefully. “You’ve improved, though!” You looked up, a little shocked. What? “The eyes are well done and your shading is very even. Good job.” 

     What? Your cheeks grew hot. That was the first bit of praise you had heard from him. About your drawing, at least. He looked down into your eyes, then felt his own face getting hot. He turned away. “Go take a break. I’ll help you when you get back in an hour. I’ll be timing you, don’t be late.”

Like I have said, he’s not overly fond of affection in public (in the beginning), but he can’t deny that holding your hand or feeling you on his arm makes him feel pretty good. The first few times, he’s internally a mess, though he won’t show anything other than a light tint of blush on his cheeks. But when he’s relaxing at home, he enjoys having you under his arm, leaning against him or with one of your heads in the other’s lap. He’s not used to people and even less so used to affection, but can be worked up to being more comfortable with stuff like kissing in front of the Morioh gang and the like.

When he’s comfortable, he is so cocky. Like, boarder line makes out with you in front of literally anyone just to prove you’re his S/O. This always makes you blush so much (unless you’re into that.) More often than not, he’ll have an arm around your shoulders, hand in pocket, looking so smug and proud and cool. 

Pet names? He can either go one of two ways, depending on his mood. Either it’s just your name or babe OR it is every teasing name under the sun. Oh, darling can you do this for me? Oh, baby, oh, honey, oh, my love, oh, my flower. It’s usually used to get something from you or to get you to do something a little out of the box.

I can see Rohan as being the kind of person who is very strict about his bath time and hates when people interrupt him. On the rare occasion, he’ll let you in with him with the promise of either massaging him or something else *wink, wink*

NSFW (Dominant specifically)

Rohan literally does not shut up during sex. Praise, degradation, mocking, you name it! As a writer and an artist, he knows how to stitch words together in a masterful way that never fails to make you hot in the face.

Uh, yeah. He’s used Heaven’s Door on you before. Did he do it to learn your kinks? Maybe to put some kind of loose control over you in certain situations? Looking for people you find attractive for potential erm... art inspiration (voyeurism)? The world will never know.

Staying-on brand with HD, he absolutely uses it to learn everything that you enjoy in the bedroom. He knows how to make you squirm, where to push to make you scream, how to make you beg. He knows everything.

Particularly enjoys using this “power” to finger you, pressing into every sweet spot (that he made more sensitive with HD), licking over the edges of your hole in a way that just makes you dumb (either hole, not picky!)

     A delicate finger was trailed up your twitching hole, making you shiver. Rohan had already stretched you open enough for it to easily slip in again. You were so sensitive from being teased over and over again, but with no relief that you cried out, tears threatening to burst forward.

     He curled his finger up into a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly pushing into it more. You groaned and whined, blabbering out his name along with various ways to beg. He shushed you carelessly, sounding annoyed by your desperation. God, you wish you could move! You would give anything to be impaled by him right now. Or anything for that matter.

     He removed the digit quickly, then promptly smacked your ass with a flat hand.

     “Quiet.” You had no choice but to listen to him, involuntarily shutting your mouth and stifling your whimpers. “If you want something, be polite about it. Do you know how to be polite?”

     You nodded your head, a single tear trailed down your cheek. Your hole was teased again, repeating the same process as before. Rohan was such an asshole, but god if you didn’t love it.

If you have established a relationship where he has complete control over everything you say or do, he will abuse it so much. Just, tells you to sit still, turns on a wand or vibrator and just tortures you to the point of tears. You can talk, he didn’t take that away (mostly because he wants to hear you beg), but the position he put you in on top of the order. It’s too much for you. 

He’ll do the same with a dildo, a fucking machine, his own dick, does not matter! Once you give him that power, RIP to your organs.

Alright, now. Voyeurism. This man is a freak and does not try to hide it when it’s under the guise of “art.” Again, if established, he will hire random people to do whatever he wants to you. If you’re okay with it, he’ll record it for later research. 

Rohan is a weird jealous type, so he checks out every person you meet and makes sure they’re perfect (ie. not competition and someone you’ll enjoy). Very rarely does he let you pick out the people. Like I said, he’s a weird jealous type. Likes to see you with other people, but not with other people, you know?

There is only one person who he considers competition that he wants you to fuck at least once and it’s Jotaro. Are we surprised? No. Dude is built like a god and has the goods to match. Even Rohan can’t deny it. He would probably want to join in as well, but Jotaro would never do anything like that.

Mmmm, punishments for being bratty? Ooooh, yes. Smack my ass like a drum! Makes you count, absolutely. If he’s in a bitchy, lazy mood he’ll use a paddle or something like that, other than that, he uses his hands. 

As you’ve probably surmised, he likes having control over you in the bedroom, so it’s no surprise he also enjoys tying you up and has a particular fondness for swings where he’ll hang you up and tease you until you can barely walk. 

I mentioned baths in the SFW section, now let me elaborate. Doesn’t like sex in the bath, he hates when the water gets everywhere, but loves when you worship him while scrubbing him down and will allow you to work him up with a light hand job. This usually leads to a blowjob of some kind whether it’s gentle or rough.

Speaking of! His favourite part of sex is probably oral. From sucking bruises into each other’s necks, rough kissing, right down to holding you against the wall and choking you with his dick. Or a dildo, if he wants something a little more adventurous like mirror sex with him taking you from behind and making you watch yourself choke over and over again.

Cock warming is only ever used as punishment for being too needy, but he will keep you in his lap until you’re in tears. He is absurdly patient when it comes to sex.

     You whined, grinding yourself onto Rohan’s dick. He chuckled before letting out a theatrical sigh. Your grip on his shoulders got harder and you buried your face into his neck more.

     “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He trailed a soft, teasing hand up your thigh. “You wanted attention, yes? Then, why are you complaining? Now, up, I need another look at my reference.”

     You sighed, tired and riled up at the same time. With new vigour, you sat up, leaning back to show your artist his latest obsession. He hummed in appreciation, taking a minute to admire his muse before licking a warm stripe up your sternum making you gasp. He stopped, giving you a look of warning.

     “Don’t move.” You gave him a curt nod, trying your best to follow your command while he returned his tongue to your chest, exploring your skin’s taste. He flicked over your nipple with the tip, testing your resolve before wrapping his lips around it, sucking harshly. A moan fought its way through your throat as he became more feverous with his suckling. 

     Rohan hummed with you, theatrically mulling over the saltiness, then switching to the next one. Satisfied with the redness around your nipples, he pulls back, looking you over once again. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head and he reaches for his sketchbook which only made his cock shift inside you, rubbing against your walls in a delightfully painful way.

     “Rohan-sensei,” you moaned out. Admittedly, you didn’t like calling him that, but he insisted you call him sensei during times like this. 

     “Stop moving, you’re ruining the picture,” he chided. “Go back to the way you were, darling.” He leaned back, rolling his hips into you to punctuate his words as well as tease you. 

Model nude for him. Whether you like it or not, he will ask you to do it and, if he’s in a sexy mood, you will be asked to do uncomfortable positions that will definitely leave you sore the next day. “It highlights how the muscles work for a new character I’m drawing” or so he says. Other than that, he’ll just let you pick somewhere comfortable and sexy to lie down. 

#kishibe rohan not sfw #kishibe rohan n/s/f/w #rohan kishibe n/sfw #rohan n/sfw #rohan not sfw #rohan n/s/f/w #kishibe rohan x reader #kishibe rohan x reader n/sfw #kishibe rohan x reader not sfw #kishibe rohan x reader n/s/f/w #rohan prompts #not sfw #sfw

[glamour-witch-bitch]

♢My Money Jar: How I did it and interpretations♢

Hello my beautiful people! So as I mentioned in my Spring Equinox I have done a money jar to encourage more financial traffic into my life. First I’m going to share how I made mine and then I’m going to show you guys the results and my interpretations and other miscellaneous stuff.

What I used:

-a recycled candle jar

-green candle

-salt

-4 cinnamon sticks

-2 $1 bills

-8 Pennies

-bay leaves

-rosemary

What can also be used:

-moss agate

-green aventurine

-rice (in replacement of salt)

-anything gold

-any form of currency

-moon or rain water

-eucalyptus (oil or leaf)

-peppermint (oil or leaf)

How I did it:

1. I cleansed all of my items with incense, I used dragons blood for potency but really any incense works.

2. I carved the runes Fehu, Tiwaz, Dagaz, and Othala into my green candle along with a dollar sign for American currency.

3. I then filled my jar about a quarter way with salt.

4. I stuck 8 pennies in various places within my salt. I chose to do 8 specifically because 8 is the universal number of prosperity and wealth.

5. Then I put four cinnamon sticks in the North, South, East and West of the jar to encourage money flow from all directions.

6. I wrote my petitions on bay leaves and also stuck those in various places throughout the jar. It’s best to be as specific as possible when creating a money jar. You should create the money jar with the intentions of drawing money from a specific source. I find that the universe has a dark sense of humor when you leave things too vague and open to interpretation.

7. I sprinkled dried rosemary all over the jar for that bit of a boost and encourage financial growth and protection.

8. Then I stuck the candle dead in the center of the jar, and lit the wick voicing my petitions out loud while lighting it.

Then after that I let it be. I try to not interfere as much as possible when it comes to any kind of spell work involving a candle. However if you ever need to snuff it out if you’re going to leave it alone for too long and don’t feel safe leaving it, that’s absolutely fine. Just remember to suffocate the flame instead of blowing it out so you don’t literally blow away your intentions and desires. Then just relit it with the same intentions and petitions as before.

You can also add things to your money jar over time. It can be a new candle, more change, and maybe even an old pay check. I plan on adding a green evil eye and gold wire around the boarder top of my candle as soon as I can to encourage more wealth inflow and an extra bit of protection.

Interpretations

So this is probably the cleanest burn I’ve ever had besides the bit of wax around one of my bay leaves petitions and dollar bills. You can see the wick even still remained in tact. The wax placement can always be a coincidence, but it never hurts to take it as a good omen.

Now you can also see some black charring around the dollar bill and my cinnamon sticks. This is expected and normal as with natural physics with fire and jars. However for a more metaphysical interpretation it can also be a reminder to myself to not literally burn money lol. As I admittedly do not have the most financially responsible spending habits. It’s a human trait that I need to work on in order for the money jar to work. As much as I want a universal inflow of income, I still need to do my part and be more disciplined with my financial assets.

That’s all I have for you guys in this post. As always, happy casting and stay safe.

#money jar #money bowl #witchcraft #witch #prosperity #wealth #prosperity magic #wealth magic #wealth witchcraft #prosperity witchcraft #888 #8 #88 #18 #28

[bunny-wk-fanfic]

Some News & Explanations

So, it's been a while, near a year I think, since I last posted anything really 'major' here or anywhere else. I did share a few pieces over on FF.net, but I wanted to explain the reason I was basically MIA for the past year.

2020 started off on a bad note for me and my family, which had nothing to do with the pandemic. Nearing the end of 2019, we noticed that my grandfather was not doing so well, and after learning that he had suffered a stroke and told no one, not even our family doctor, things quickly went south. Multiple tests were done, and each time he got worse and worse, until finally after New Years, he was finally diagnosed with ALS. Now those of you who don't know, it's a crippling disease. If you're young, you have a chance at a long life with treatment and medicine. If you're over 50, it's aggressive, quick, and painful. We literally watched my grandfather whither away for three months before he finally passed away in March.

March 2020 was shitty all around. My grandfather passed, his funeral was held a week later, although it had been delayed as Corona had just been declared as a pandemic so heavy lockdowns had been put into effect here in Germany. And to add insult to injury, some ass used a 'legal loophole' to swindle money out of me by claiming I was parked on private property. I did pay it, forgetting I did have insurance/coverage to help me for such situations, but when you're in mourning, thought process is pretty much nonexistent.

April 2020 was the first time I was affected by the pandemic as the company I was working with at the time had to close for two weeks since a few workers had tested positive as well as a lack of workers since some did come from France but were unable to cross the boarder due to the harsh lockdowns.

May 2020 things were looking a little on the bright side as I could officially move into my now apartment. Not only due to the fact that my sister finally found her own apartment close to where she was going to school and work, but because city hall was once again open and I could register to be a citizen of the city. Only to discover the apartment not only had water damage, but mold as well. Which was made worse since the landlord mentioned he did not have house insurance. Which is a big No-No here in Germany. Regardless if you live in the space or not, if you own it, you are required to have it insured in your name. Let's just say it made fixing it up and getting paid due to damages was made difficult because of his lack of insurance.

June 2020 I was once again living with my parents since the apartment needed to be cleaned and dehumidified. So, I was under stress since I was living out of their office and out of a duffle bag.

July 2020 I could finally move into the apartment and register with the city. Along with getting house insurance, since, as a tenant, I would need that, and it would help should any other issues crop up.

August 2020 I had to go through the process of quitting with the temp firm in order to be signed on officially with the company I was working with/for. It was a process as I was constantly asked for various forms of my resignation letters as well as various forms of sending it in.

September 2020 my car broke down. I could drive maybe for 15 minutes before the engine overheated. Which was enough time to get from work, to my parents, and from their place to our mechanic. He shared with me that the cooling system for the engine was basically leaking. It could be fixed for anywhere between 1000 - 2000 €, but with how old the car was, it wasn't worth it since he spotted other issues that would later cause problems that would either need to be fixed or replaced altogether. For an imported car from the US, it would be a timely and costly in the long run, so I needed to buy a new car.

October 2020 finally got a new (used) car which I'm happy with, still am to this day. Only to be laid off at the end of the month. The reason being was the low numbers of our product from the year; not just due to the pandemic, but also from a fire happening at a sister factory that slowed in us getting the supplies needed for us in production. All of which they had known since September, when they hired me on.

November 2020 went back to the temp company and immediately got a new job. Along with that, the restrictions that had been slightly lifted during the summer were once again in effect, along with a curfew.

December 2020 was actually calm, and I used this time to finally relax with my family.

January - March 2021 basically this is Germany's tax season, and I discovered that my temp company failed to give me my tax papers, so running around there. I was mostly quiet during this time, so I had planned on returning to both here and fanfic in general as I was comfortable with the company I was working with. Until they announced that they would be closing the location I was working at and moving their operation to a city that is literally in the middle of nowhere and would take me some 2 hours to travel to get there.

April 2020 was spent negotiating a new place to work with my temp company.

May - June 2020 a new job, a bit further away than I would have liked, but the work was alright and my coworkers were sociable. Until I was let go. And this was with the company lying to my temp firm, that I was caught playing on my phone during working hours. Which is impossible when you're working on a machine that needs to be watched, otherwise it was likely to jam. I learned the truth when I went in the next day to return my time-stamp chip that it was due to the reason that the next week there wouldn't be enough work to keep me. My temp firm said they might cross the company off their list of potential partners when I shared that bit of information, along with a few other details.

July - August 2020 so new job, closer to home, better pay, and with a few old coworkers from the company that wanted to close shop and move away. (I later learned they want to return back down to the area I live in, so, who knows what's going on with the higher ups). My family and I are also in the process of changing insurance brokers, as our old one was swindling us out of money, which we wouldn't have known if he had bothered to take the time to reply to our calls or messages or simply let us know that he wouldn't be in his office at certain times for whatever reason. Seriously, a simple 'I'm currently unavailable today, please contact me tomorrow' or 'I'll be out of office between XX to XX. Please wait until I return to ask any questions or address any issues' would have been better than waiting weeks to a month for a reply of any kind.

I'm sure I've explained this at least at some points during the past year, but then things just kept happening. Which then postponed and delayed my return more and more. I humbly apologize because of this and I ask for everyone's forgiveness. I do hope to return sooner rather than later, and if things continue to look as positive as they have these past two months, it looks like I'll finally be able to do so.

TM;DR 2020 sucked for more than just because of the pandemic, and hopefully I'll return sooner rather than later.

#news #announcements #chit chat

[nofive]

Five’s Bedroom

I have done a headcanon about brief observations I have made on Five’s bedroom before. I have also talked about things in his bedroom in a few other headcanons. But this will be delving into the canon state of Five’s childhood room, and his area in the Apocalypse to get a sense for how Five is as a person and a bit more of what he was like as a child.

Also fair warning, this post is long, and their are lots of big images. If you want, I am tagging this post with a special tag “Five’s Bedroom Meta” so that you can block it if you do not wish to scroll through it on your dash. All images that have adjusted brightness was purely to enhance the background of the image.

Like with everything I may add on to this as time goes by.

The bare bones, no deep diving yet ( Five’s Childhood Room )

Based off multiple images from the Making of TUA book, the show itself, and Aidan’s behind the scenes pictures I’ve put together a very basic floor plan of Five’s room ( please don’t make fun of my handwriting ). I don’t know about y’all but I feel like Five’s door needs to be at a til like Allison and Luther’s. But its not. So this floor plan basically gives a layout of his room in general. Its not to scale obviously, but it gives us a good starting off point. One thing I would like to note, that I think is only applicable to Five’s room as that there are two doors much like Reginald’s office, which I will touch on a bit later. Not drawn are the at least four lamps, one on his desk, one on the small bookshelf by his bed, and one on his nightstand, he has at least two sconces one on the wall near the closet, and one on the wall near the blue chair, he also has a main light fixture with at least three bulbs. But it is simply his closet, a very small closet at that.

Five’s bedroom has two windows, one that leads to a fire escape, which is next to his bed on the wall with the slanted roof. Both windows have radiators beneath them that Five utilizes as shelving. On the slanted wall side of his room Five’s bed is pushed not quite into the corner as he has a small bookshelf there that has more toys on it than books, and has a chest at the foot of his bed, and then he has his bookshelf which due to the slanted wall has the appearance of a built in.

Five’s desk and desk chair are on the same wall as his closet, though his desk chair being on wheels can move about. Above the desk are a set of shelves, Luther’s room has something very similar, with a set of towels and his toiletries. Five’s towels are blue, Luther’s appear to be tan or brown. If I had to guess all the siblings have different colors of towels. Next to his desk in between it and the bookshelf is a basket that appears to have a white board, and a fireman’s hat. There is also a possible laundry basket on the other side of his desk closer to the closet.

On the wall that has the main door to his room you have his wardrobe or armoire. we know thanks to Klaus that this houses jackets, possibly that snazzy coat and scarf from the bank as well as various toys namely baseballs. I know there is a baseball bat in his room but I cannot find a picture of it. Also I should note, I have no idea what is rapped in that white sheet looking thing.

On the other side of the door we have his dresser. The door funnily enough has a window up top sort of akin to an office door implying that Five’s room did in fact used to be an office. In fact the way it’s styled makes it seem like it could be a 1920s styled Private Investigator office. The dresser has a dart board above it that he takes down to write his equations and then puts it back up despite not putting anything else back on the walls. In front of the dress and the second window is a blue chair that we see Delores occupy while Grace patches up his Shrapnel wound she is sitting on his blue desk chair. Next to the radiator under the window we have Five’s nightstand.

The walls of Five’s bedroom are all painted a minty green color. So is all the triming including the the window seal ledges. The only non-painted areas are the bricks under the slanted roof/wall of his room and the boarder wallpaper.

The Deep Dive

So that takes us around his room, now lets actually delve into those pictures and what we see in them. So lets start at the beginning with the closet. To my knowledge Five is the only one with a closet in his room, and a second door. I only bring this up because the parallels and similarities between Five and Reginald is very obvious. And we know Reginald’s office has two doors. I just think that is interesting, not to mention Five’s bedroom was very likely an old office based on how The Academy is multiple buildings together. I should also note that based on the scene when Five is escaping onto the fire escape the window that is not on the slanted wall portion of his room shouldn’t have light coming into it because another building butts up to it.

Five’s bedroom is actually quite large accented with blue of varying shades from the carpet to his main comforter, to his desk chair, pillows, curtains, and his secondary chair. All the wood in his room is a light walnut color. And his doors are painted this minty green color. His second comforter looks to be navy, white, and red plaid. The fact that he has a second comforter that is used means not only has Grace changed his sheets, but he likely has slept in them, which means he likely did sleep. I only say its second comforter and not a blanket because we know Five has a chest at the foot of his bed with a blanket on it that could have been used. The chest likely has his extra bedding in it though. On Five’s bedside table he has a stack of what appears to be text books, but they seem more like workbooks of some sort. So think like SAT prep books. He also has a set of what appears to be five novels on his nightstand, and some sort of CD player or maybe a dehumidifier. 

The blanket as you can see has planets, a moon, and a spaceship on it, which is pretty on par for things that Five likes. All over his room, and in these images you can see images of robots on his walls. Particularly you can see comic drawings of robots. He has a rock-em sock-em robot poster on his wall. He even has a robot on his bookshelf by his desk. Five has a fascination with robots. Which could foreshadow his relationship with Delores, and perhaps something of his relationship with Grace, liking wanting to know how she works. Also foreshadowing of Five and Delores is quite literally in the wallpaper boarder above the chair rail which has a kid pulling a red wagon with a mannequin in them.

Additionally we see lots of building blocks particularly on the bookshelf next to Five’s bed. Five is very hands on when it comes to his hobbies. He has means of transportation all over his room which could make sense given his power, but it could also give him a connection to Luther seeing as Luther also has airplanes and cars in his room. Five has boats, and cars all over his room. Further he also has lots of construction toys including an excavator and a cement truck. On top of his wardrobe he has a sail boat and a covered wagon. He also has a poster of a motorcyle or moped on his wall. If Five had stayed behind he would have been the first to learn how to drive for sure.

From first glance Five’s room seems super organized. But when you actually look at it, its not. Books in particular are stacked where he can stack them. The binders on his desk are initially upside down, and someone put them right side up, I would guess Luther as he is messing around Five’s desk to look for things. Five works in an organized chaos we see this from his equations as he writes over the boarder and such We later see this echoed in his Apocalypse home.

When it comes to other things Five has a few knick knacks all of them are travel based, saved for one. I’ve mentioned the toys. The one I’m referring to can be seen on his desk and I believe it is a nautical instrument used to help measure distance and time or speed. I could be wrong. But it is on Five’s desk along with what appears to be homework of some sort in the trays. He’s also got a stapler on his desk which I simply find ironic.

The one knick knack he has that isn’t related specifically to travel is a wooden basket that has busted up watches. Pocket watches, wrist watches, etc. They are old, and are not digital. My theory on this is that at one point he attempted to use the watch to magnify his power, particularly that of Time Travel. But they kept breaking, but it only fueled his theory that he could do it. This is also a call back to the comic where Five as a kid is always shown to have a pocket watch.

Briefly on his closet, which is best pictured above. It is small. Also it appears to only hold his uniforms, which by the way he is going through them makes him seem like he should have more clothes and he can’t find them. This implies Five does have civvies or street clothes but they have been lost over time which would make Five’s “Shit” make much more sense. Its not that he only has uniforms as his option, its that he can’t find his civilian clothes.

Last but not least the dart board. I do have a headcanon about it. But the fact that you can see the equations go behind the dart board on the wall means he put it back up. Five in the original pilot script had a love of knives quite like Diego. My guess is the dart board is a call to that. But we also know Five is super competitive and I think he tries to get accurate with throwing knives to beat Diego. Also we know that Five has Diego’s knife holster in the apocalypse so Five liking knives is not just a original pilot script thing. 

The Comparison ( his Apocalypse Home Base )

Five’s apocalypse home base ironically takes on many similar characteristics of Five’s bedroom. Meaning the core of who Five is has not changed. He has a love for learning, partially cause he is literally creating new math, but he has a desk still, and he still stacks books haphazardly. He also has his chalkboard which seems to be Five’s favorite way of doing math. I theorize its because he’s working on things that are so large he needs more room than paper can provide. Also paper is hard to come by in the apocalypse, at least blank paper is because he uses Vanya’s book. Five has a habit of placing important things on places he can easily see and find. Such as the probability map ending above his bed, and the equation on his chalk board likely ending up in his copy of Vanya’s book.

Final Thoughts

So what are my final thoughts? I think the making of TUA book has got Five pinned all wrong. Five’s room is sparse because he left early, but not because he didn’t have hobbies or time to decorate it. He clearly did. Five like athletics at least baseball, and he had an interest in robots, comics, and transportation. He also likes building as he has blocks and potentially even legos. The transportation could be an extension of him getting to know his power, maybe. But we know Luther is very similar with transportation just of the aerospace kind and we know that’s likely not related to his power ( unless you include my headcanon that his main power is actual gravity manipulation ). Five had interests and was even starting to personalize his room before he left, he also had an imagination seeing as the fireman’s helmet is still readily out and available to play which plays into Delores being part of his active imagination and becoming the imaginary friend he needs to stay somewhat sane in the apocalypse.

Five’s room tells us of a boy who was active, and had interests, and he still has a liking for those interests as we see him unable to help himself and play with one of the trucks during the show. It gives us a brief look into the boy that we truly know very little about. Because while we have so much of his story displayed for us, we have so little of what he was like before. He has toys and things all over his room with no real rhyme or reason as to why things are placed in certain areas. It makes sense to him obviously, but it is not the key organized thing you would expect. If it was all his trucks would be in one place for example.

We also can see Five is a bit more chaotic than his room implies on first glance. From both the Apocalypse and his kid bedroom Five has a habit of stacking books a bit haphazardly and storing things also a bit haphazardly as seen by the crate on top of his wardrobe, and the fact that he has stuff just piled into said wardrobe that comes tumbling out when Klaus does.

When it comes to his room location I believe it is on the third floor above Allison and Luther’s, on the second, and Klaus, Vanya, and Diego’s on the lower floor. Since we don’t know where Ben’s room is and the door across from Five’s is always shut, I do think that that is likely where Ben’s room was. But according to Five there are 42 Bedrooms in the place so it could be anywhere really.

Five’s room, like Five himself hides behind a layer of sparsity. You have to give him more than a cursory glance to know what is really going to get him deep down.

#headcanon: a single drop of coffee #five's bedroom meta

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

Someone hurt me so I’m writing this at 5:30am on my phone desperately searching for catharsis in Arthur Morgan

Gif credit to @arthursbitch , I think... I found it on Pinterest and followed the link so I hope that’s right- anyway, only note I’ll add other than the above is that there’s no no keep reading cut because I’m on mobile.

- - -

He goes West out of spite, pushing the horse beneath him more than he should have after the journey she had already taken from Beaver Hollow to the furthest boarder of West Elizabeth. He reconciles the action by telling himself she got a good enough rest when he stood there staring at the mountains trying to finally make the decision and go.

They wouldn’t notice. They didn’t need him anymore. Family hadn’t been family for a long time and if it was he sure as hell wasn’t part of it, not by choice. But this was his choice. Leaving. Even if it’s futile. He’s going to die anyway. Arthur considers it his last act of free will.

But he goes West in spite of Dutch, who filled his head with dreams of the “Wild West” ever since he had taken him in. Dutch went mad chasing money, an obsessive materialism that terrified Arthur and was what ultimately drove him away. He felt that if he at least spent whatever time he had left living out the failed dream of someone he once loved as a father then maybe he’d reach that final bit of peace he had been chasing.

Yet it’s days before his head is clear and he finally starts thinking like himself again. He doesn’t know where he is, maybe Kansas or Wyoming. He didn’t know. Everything looked the same to him though it was all breathtakingly beautiful. The land stretched out for miles and so much of it still untouched, even if it wouldn’t last that way for long he considered himself lucky to have been born just in time to see it, even if what it would become scared him almost as much as Dutch. Maybe he wouldn’t have to see how humanity would destroy it. He was tired of seeing beautiful things torn apart by greed.

He misses them, he thinks, as he finds some hill to rest on, one tall enough he can see for a few miles, sitting in the grass and taking in the air like it’s his last. Which it probably is. He finds himself odd for how at peace he’s become with his fate. Maybe it’s because he’s away from the gang, he had begun to feel like he couldn’t breathe around them. Out here and so far away he felt... free.

And he realizes he doesn’t miss them. He doesn’t. Not at all. He misses how things used to be when things were simple and before scores got so big, before it was about money and back when it was about taking care of each other. He misses who they used to be. He misses how they made him feel. But so many of them were dead and gone. And maybe that’s why he was at peace with his dying state, because if, when, he was gone he’d be with the ones he lost. He wouldn’t have to worry about how the family had fallen apart, slipped right through his fingers and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Arthur often carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Thinking it was his job to fix it all. But he didn’t like seeing people he cared about suffering. Yet there came a time he had to accept he couldn’t help them. Even if he could it wouldn’t be for long.

He sighs and closes his eyes, remembering when things had been good, even if it was so long ago. Those memories make him happy. They fill him with a profound sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. It almost makes him regret he hadn’t taken John and run when they were young. The could have made lives for themselves, had their own families to take care of. It wouldn’t be different, except they’d do good, they’d be happy. Not suffering under the leadership of someone who thought the world was against him.

Though the memories are good they’re still painful. It angers him at who the people he trusted became. That something he thought so pure could become to vile. That trust meant nothing. If it meant nothing then there couldn’t be hope for the rest of the world. It’s why he tied his best to so right by people. Why he knew he wasn’t a good man but still tried to be kind, because he has never truely been shown kindness. Even if Dutch had taken him in off the streets could it even have been considered kind with what he turned him into? And though he had loved Hosea dearly he can’t help but think of all the times he had convinced him to stay during the times he thought of running, what kind of kindness had that been? They spared him perhaps.

Arthur is tired. Tired of being sick. Tired of running. Tired of hating the man he had become. Tired of missing things. Tired of wishing for better. He was tired.

It’s too late for wishing, only time for hoping. He made his decision and even if he weren’t dying wishing wouldn’t do him any good. He was going to hope.

He’d hope that John would follow his lead and get Abigail and Jack out of there. He’d hope that Sadie would get the girls and anyone with any sense and have adventures of her own. He’d hope Dutch would find some sort of peace. And above all he’d hope that what time he had, he wouldn’t waste it.

Hoping wasn’t good enough, he needed more. He needed... faith.

Arthur never understood faith in the way that Dutch used it. He believed in him but he never had faith. He had failed him too much for something like that, he feared where that blind loyalty would get him.

Now, he had faith.

It wasn’t in a person but it was in the future and the things to come. Maybe he’d even let himself believe in God and whatever sort of kindness he could give to the changing world. It’s really all he could do, he was only one man after all. He had done what he could. Even if he wanted to go back and help more there would still be people out there who needed help. He just has to come to terms that there were others out there who wanted to help too, he had faith that there were because he had seen it.

And God help him but it was enough to bring him that last bit of peace he had been chasing.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan #rdr2 chapter 6 #rdr2 spoilers #introspective #fanfic #kind of #catharsis #working out problems through fictional characters #at unholy hours of the morning and it’s 6am and I haven’t been to sleep yet #I can’t keep this up #anyway I’m sad but a little less sad now #I love Arthur #maybe I’m relating to him too much #maybe I self project a bit #but that’s the point of this #goodnight and good morning

[xiumin-on-this-shit]

I Am An Alpha Ch 27: Time To Relax

Hi lovelies I’m sorry this took me so long! I really tired to write the smut but it didn’t sound right so I just did the build and you can insinuate where it goes😉

“How did your talk go?” Kyungsoo wonders as he wraps me up in a blanket on the couch. He cuddles in close on my left side while an angry looking Jongin appears on my right. “Did you guys figure out how your brothers are alive?”

“We assume that they somehow snuck passed the soldiers patrolling the boarder of my village, nothing other than that. They were just lucky. Have they reached out at all?”

Suho shakes his head, “Nothing so far but it hasn’t been very long. Did you think about how you wanted to handle this?”

“Eh kind of,” I mumble awkwardly, “we definitely figured out a few different things we could do. Did you guys put any thought into it?”

“About the same, but these are your brothers Insoo, whatever we decide to do is completely up to you.”

“Are you serious?”

They all nod, “Of course, we wouldn’t make any decisions about something like this without you.”

Kyungsoo brushes a curl out of my face, “What were some of the options you guys came up with?”

“There is the obvious one of figuring everything out and maybe fixing all of the problems we had when we were younger so we can focus on our futures. Or we could just pretend that we never saw them and continue on with our lives.”

“Those are our options?” Jongin grimaces, earning a love tap from Suho.

My brows raise at that, “What did you guys think up?” Jongin’s mouth opens to respond but snaps it closed when Kris glowers at him. I look from one to the other then to my other mates, noticing the tension in the room. “What am I missing?”

No says anything.

I glare at their head alpha, “Hyung?”

He clicks his tongue, “Jongin why did you have to go and say something?”

“Did you tell him not to tell me something? What the hell? Jongin,” I look to the younger again and take his hands in mine, “What were you going to tell me?”

“Soo, I don’t wanna cause any trouble.”

“You are going to be in trouble if you aren’t honest with me!”

Jongin grimaces, he gives Suho a pleading look but the older shakes his head, “You dug yourself this hole.”

“Our back up plan if they caused to much trouble was to just… kill them?”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. I start wheezing, clutching my chest to catch my breath, unable control myself at the moment. “And you guys were worried I would be what? Offended?”

“I mean yea, they’re your brothers.”

“They are strangers,” I correct. ”My pack and I already came to the same conclusion, you guys aren’t the only ones who are quick to jump to the easiest solution.”

“Thank god,” The tan man relaxes with a shy smile.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” I praise, giving him a tight hug. “Now for the rest of you, do we need to have a talk about honesty?”

Baekhyun is quick to speak up, “We just didn’t want to upset you. Sorry Soo, you aren’t really mad, are you?”

“I’m more insulted than anything that you guys didn’t think I could handle this. I thought we were passed this whole walking on eggshells thing.”

“We are!” They shout together.

“Than prove it! You all need to be honest with me all the time, especially in this situation. I’m not fragile, I’m trusting you guys to not hide things from me just because you are scared of how I’ll handle it, okay?”

All twelve nod eagerly, Chanyeol and Baekhyun rush forward to me gushing apologies.

I place a single finger on both of their lips, hushing them, “I forgive you all so you can stop with the apologies. Let’s focus on these assholes we are going to have to deal with now.”

“We will deal with them when they call,” Kris insists.

“But-“

“No buts. You have had a very long and eventful day, you need some rest before we take this on, we all do.”

I deflate, knowing there is no real point in arguing. I’m sure their at they need a moment of peace more than me. As a deep breath leaves me my body suddenly sinks into the couch with exhaustion. ”I guess I could go for a nap.”

“You can take a nap with me little wolf,” Minseok answers immediately. He is on his feet, hand extended towards me.

As expected Tao jumps up, “Why do you get to take her?”

To my surprise the sweet man turns a terrifying glare on to his younger sibling, “I understand your rut is still lingering but today has been stressful. Let’s not add a fight to this, understand?”

No one questions the soft but dominant man. He looks back to me, his eyes become gentle once again, “Up, up, little wolf.”

I find myself obeying without a thought, allowing him to pull me into his arms, scooping me off my feet as if I weigh nothing.

“Wait a second.”

Minseok pauses as we reach the base of the stairs, he looks over his shoulder at Kyungsoo, “What?”

“She hasn’t eaten yet.”

The oldest thinks for a minute before nodding, “Bring it to my room. Just come in whenever it’s ready.” With that done he continues on his way up the stairs to his room. The door opens, revealing what I’ve grown to expect from these men, modern furniture with muted color palette. His color of choice is shades of gray. “Do you need to use the restroom before you lay down?”

I shake my head, feeling weirdly shy for the first time in awhile. He sets me down on the edge of the bed, kneeling down on in front of my to untie my new boots and set them aside.

“How are you feeling?” Minseok asks on the is done, but he stays there on his knees in front of me.

“Tired,” I shrug unsure of myself, “I guess.”

“I can see your eyes getting a little droopy but the rest of you is still tense, can I help you relax?”

“How?”

Long gentle fingers glide across the bottom of my foot, his nails are barely there but the sensation sends a tingling feeling right up my leg forcing my toes to curl.

“How did that feel?”

“Good,” my mind flashes back to the first time we met and he did something similar, “You must have magic hands.”

“I’m happy you think so. How about we take off some of these layers so I can help you relax a bit more?”

I nod, allowing him to remove my sweat pants and sweatshirt, leaving me in just a t shirt and spandex shorts. With that set aside he gets back to work on trying his best to relax me. I watch as his fingers go up my cage and back down again, his eyes flick up from his handy work to my eyes then back again to make sure I’m actually enjoying it. And I am, more than I probably should if I’m being honest. I’ve never had a proper massage, even though I’ve been in desperate need of one most of my life. Part of me is thankful that I never had one, it would be far too embarrassing to react like this to someone that is not my mate. My body is tingling. I resist the urge to just lay back and enjoy, seeing him kneeling in front of me does more than it should to my omega.

“Talk to me Insoo,” He quietly requets, “I haven’t been as blessed as my brothers to hear your voice as them.” His hands reach my thighs, each hand working it’s magic.

Instead of an answer, all I can let out is a whimper. It feels so good. His thumbs move in small circles, digging into the muscles and slowly opening my legs with each movement of his hands.

“That sound was very pretty but wasn’t what I was expecting. How about you tell me about my brothers?”

His brothers? At a moment like this where I probably can’t think of my own god damn name. He’s just being mean!

“How about Kyungsoo? What do you think about him?”

My eyelids flutter close once his fingers reaches only inches away from my most sensitive area. Kyungsoo. “He smells so good,” I mumble out. Images of him pop into my head, his smile drawing all of my attention. I find myself grinning at just the though lot of those full lips, my body has a bad habit of responding on its own when it comes to him. My thighs rub together, Minseok raises his brws at that.

“Does just his smell so that to you?” The man teases as he gently guides my legs back open. My eyes snap back open when his lips connect with my inner thigh. He freezes there, lips flush with my skin where my shorts end. “Or were you thinking of something else?”

I can’t help but admit it, “His mouth…”

My face is on fire, I resist the urge to cover my face when a rush of pheromones leave me. He smells it immediately, his pupils grow massive, his grip on me tightens, keeping me from shutting my legs again. “Did you hear that brother?”

I snap my eyes toward the now open door, Kyungsoo is there with a tray of food in his hands, fangs poking into his lips.

Minseok grins, “How about you put the tray down and help our little wolf relax? As much as she likes my hands, I think she would prefer your mouth, right Insoo?”

“Hyung don’t force her to do anything she isn’t comfortable with!” The younger snaps.

“I would never,” Minseok snarls in return. He looks back up at me, all playfulness gone, “You can tell me to stop little wolf whenever you want, you know that right? Are you uncomfortable at all? Do you want me to stop?”

My head shakes no before I can ever think. My insides are aching for attention now, even I can smell my own arousal.

“Satisfied? Now are you going to come over here or are you going to be a stick in the mud?”

I expect him to leave from the stern look on his face but instead he slams the tray down on the dresser to the left of the door and stomps over. “Move.”

“Someone is feeling bossy. Let’s make sure everyone is comfortable.” The older man takes charge of the situation, joining me on the bed and pulling me towards the head board. Leaning against the head board he drags me in between his legs, his chest flushed to my back. One arms circles around my waist while the other separates my knees that I had pulled to my chest. “We have to make room for Kyungsoo,” He tells me as he guides my legs wide open and urges my knees to lower. “There we go love,” His words flutter across my neck making me shiver. “Comfy?”

All I can do is mumble out a quiet yes.

“Should we let Kyungsoo join us?”

I nod.

“You heard her, come on.”

And he does. He crawls on to the bed, eyes fixated on me, I gulp. My heart starts racing as he reaches me, he kneels between my legs, rough hands glide up my cafes to my thighs and back again.

“Are you two just going to stare at each other or are you going to give her a kiss?”

Kyungsoo looks past me to his brother, “Shut up.”

“I wouldn’t have to help with anything if you wouldn’t keep wasting time.”

I groan, “Can you both just stop before I go to handle this myself?”

Both pairs of hands on me tighten, “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Then do something Hyungs!”

Minseok laughs in my ear, “So demanding now. I love it. For now, let’s drop the whole Hyung thing, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Come on,” He urges, “I wanna hear you say it.”

I grin devilishly, “Make me.”

“Better get to work brother before I do.”

Without a word Kyungsoo leans back down to place a few kisses on my inner thigh, first the left then the right.

“Are you ready little wolf?”

“Yes please.”

#exo #xiumin #kai #sehun #kyungsoo #chanyeol #luhan #suho #chen #baekhyun #kris #yixing #tao #exo wolf #i am an alpha #im sorry

[s-aned]

Dark Paradise - Chapter 1 - “I killed her”

“I killed her”

Her voice whips through the air. The older man turns his head towards the young woman, a frown twisting his face. Did he understood what she meant?

It’s been a few minutes since he arrived on the back porch. The lights were out, but she was there, sitting with her gaze fixed on the mountains or in the void, softly humming to herself a tune he didn't know.

“It’s 2 a.m., why aren’t you sleeping?

- What about you?”

Fair enough. He let out a small sigh before sitting down next to the young woman. He rubbed the back of his neck, his body still tense after a long day of work. Silence had settled in. Not a tense or embarrassed one. If she could be talkative and teasing, she also knew how to savor the comfort of a shared silence. That’s one thing he surely appreciated.

It had been a few weeks since she moved into his home, about one year after he settled in Jackson. At first glance, she seemed like a strange roommate for this fifty-year-old man, as she must have barely left her twenties. But she couldn't stay with Tommy and Maria forever and he had a spare room. Everyone seemed satisfied with the arrangement.

Joel was beginning to enjoy this company, and the good meals that accompanied it. He found it amazing how someone who struggles to eat anything other than soup can enjoy cooking so much. Gradually, a relationship of trust began to take hold. That's why he doesn’t hesitate long before breaking the silence.

“I heard what you said earlier to the girls. Your mom. Tommy and I… We also lost our mom to sickness. She... She got cancer. Before the outbreak. Nasty business.”

She nods but doesn’t add anything. She knows that the man isn’t one to spill about his past. She knows about Sarah, and some bits of his past in Boston QZ. Oh, she doesn’t know much, but enough to understand that he had seen and done things that morality could disapprove of.

And yet, she doesn’t dare to tell him what is on her heart. She’s afraid of his reaction. She’s trying to resist but the words are making their way to her mouth and she’s unable to hold them back, like a sour, uncontrollable bile. It’s too late. It must come out, regardless of his reaction.

“I killed her.”

She hears a rustle, and feel his incomprehension’s look on her. She resumes, turning her head towards him without daring to meet his gaze.

“My… My mom. I killed her.”

She bits her lip, wanting to prevent the tears from falling. She has started now, there is no going back. Might as well tell him everything.

“She… She was sick, real sick. But she kept dying. Most of the time when she was awake, she wasn’t even conscious, her open eyes and her mouth only let out a few inconsistent messages. And she was in pain, she was in excruciating pain. Day and night, she moaned. It was just the two of us. The neighbors would drop me food sometimes. But most of the time, I was alone with her suffering. I would stay day and night by her side, with no more hope of seeing her emerge. But her body was refusing to give up.”

She pauses for a moment, taking a breath before starting again.

“One night, she was finally sleeping. I wasn’t. She seemed so peaceful, so quiet. I thought, this is it. This is how she should be. Just in peace. No more pain. It was dark in the room, there was no moon that night. So I gave her a kiss before taking a pillow and… I put it on her head. As strong as I could. She didn’t react. I stayed like that for minutes but it felt like hours. I stayed until I felt it… Her last breath.”

Tears are now streaming down her cheeks. She stares into void, pursed lips adding nothing more. She doesn’t know why she told him about it. What would he think of her now?

“How old were you?

-14.”

He lets out an overwhelmed sigh. He already knew she had been through hard times. Heck, who hasn’t in this crazy world? But putting her own mother out of pain, that was something else. He tries to find something to say to ease her.

“You relieved her. QZ life wasn’t easy, she might have suffered for weeks, months even, if you hadn’t done that. You did that out of love. You’re brave.

-No, I’m not. After I did it, I just grabbed my stuff and left. I abandoned her there. God knows how much time it took before someone noticed. It’s probably the smell that alerted the neighbors. I didn’t give her a decent burial, and we both know that FEDRA probably tossed her bodies with all the others, infected or not.

-Why did you leave?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She knows that she will have to tell the full story if she keeps going. But now looks as bad as any other time. The night offers some protection. She lets it go.

“Hmm, I was an orphan. They would have put me in one of those FEDRA institutions. I heard what happened there. All this stories about girls being abused by soldiers or other boarders. I thought I was better to try it on my own.

-How did you survive without being caught?

-My dad. He had a sister in that QZ. We barely knew her, she had fallen out with him and when he died, we cut ties completely. I showed up at her place, and she was kind enough to take me. Oh sure, she treated me like a dog, making me do all the thankless jobs. But at least I had a roof over my head. After a few months she started dating this guy, scumbag but it kept her from being alone, I guess. There was only one room, so most of the time I had to stay in the hallway. But slowly, he started to look at me. Once, she was gone god knows where, he cornered me and told me a whole bunch of stuff a 15-year-old shouldn't hear from a grown-up man. My aunt walked in as he began to slide his hand under my shirt, and of course she got it on me. She beat the crap out of me, before tossing me out of her place. Obviously, she kept all my stuff, ID included. Probably sold it to black market, the bitch. I was left with only the clothes on my back."

She finally looks up at the man, unable to read the expression on his face. Sadness, anger, pity? She had only seen this face once. The day Tommy and he found her, after she killed her captors. It was Joel, she believes, who put a bullet in the head of the last of them. The one who had caught her and was standing over her, his knife stuck in her lower abdomen.

Joel had the same expression than today when, in Jackson's infirmary, she told them that she had been sold to these men, after being forcibly prostituted for months, years maybe, in her previous QZ. She didn't know where they were taking her, but she knew full well that her function would remain the same.

“Is that when?” He leaves his question hanging, but she understands what he means. She shakes her head.

“No. There was this guy I saw from time to time, we flirted with each other. He had managed to set up a junk studio in a building in the slum quarters of the QZ. He let me settle there. Of course, he didn’t ask for a kiss on the cheek in return. I won’t teach you how a 16-year-old boy is like.” She says sarcastically, a slight smirk appearing on her lips. Joel chuckles lightly. Touched. It’s around that age he got his girlfriend pregnant, and with that, got in adulthood prematurely. She goes back to her story.

“He got tired of me eventually, and I felt that soon I would find myself again in the cold streets, at the mercy of the first predator lurking around. But Heaven proved merciful, and I met Talia. She was in her fifties and had quite a temper. She saw me hanging out on the street in the rain and pulled me into a building that looked completely abandoned. She asked me questions, listened to my story without commenting, before opening another door. I discovered that there was a whole other life in this city. Rare alcohol, red armchairs and above all, a stage in the middle of which sat a bar.”

She grins at the surprised look of man.

“Yep Joel. There was a strip club in my QZ. She made me sit, gave me a towel to dry myself and began to explain what was happening there. There was no resistance group like your fireflies in my area. There were small local gang, who greased the military tab to do their little business.

At first, she didn't even want me in the room when the club was open. I was way too young for her liking, she couldn't tolerate me being exposed to men. So I did the housework, some services for the girls, all the little chores behind the scenes. From there I watched them dance and drive all the spectators crazy. Soldiers, small strikes, or average guy, they all drooled and get rid of everything they owned for a look, a caress.

After a year, I was entitled to serve at the bar. But just at the bar, I was forbidden to pass in the aisles. It was the girls' work. Talia was tough but she took good care of all of us. We were like family. When the club was closed, we laughed a lot. It was a good time.”

She ends her story with a sigh, before taking a sip of her infusion, now cold. She grimaces. She would have liked it to be whiskey. She still has plenty to talk about, but she's not sure she has the strength for it. The older man must feel it, because he doesn't ask any more questions.

She's already released a big chunk tonight. And what is yet to come is not the happiest. Above all, she is afraid of his reaction. For the moment, he believes she was an innocent victim, captured by ill-intentioned men. But she's not quite sure. She often wondered if she hadn't been responsible for all of this. So she keeps quiet and lets the silence of the night engulf her.

There is nothing more to say, and yet none of them moves. It’s only when a gust of wind makes her shiver that Joel straightens up and speaks in a firm but gentle tone she now knows by heart.

“Let’s go inside. You have to try to sleep.”

-------

Chapter 2

#TLOU #TLOU2 #TLOU fic #TLOU fanfic #Joel Miller #The last of Us

[labyrinth-archive]

This Never-Ending Melody Fandom: Doctor Who. Pairing: Whouffaldi Length: 2,500 words Warnings: None Also on Ao3

The memory of what Clara told him in the cloisters lives on in the form of a song, its melody always winding its way through the back of his mind, soft and sweet and sad and ever-constant, like the cadence of his twin heartbeats.

He just wishes he could remember the words that went with it. (Or: Several instances the Doctor plays a song called Clara.)

He’s in a diner somewhere in America. There’s dust on his shoes and a guitar in his hands, and the last place he remembers being is at the end of a burning universe. He can recall falling to the floor, remember the feeling of his two hearts shattering at the sight of a girl crying over him, and him asking her to smile, for her sake as much as his.

(He thinks....he thinks she might’ve smiled for him. That she must’ve smiled for him.

But he can’t remember it.)

Now he sits on a barstool, in this kitschy American diner with records on the walls and Elvis painted on the door, and a surprisingly British waitress standing behind the counter, with kind brown eyes and a clever smile. She crosses her arms on the countertop, leans toward him as he talks, and for a reason he can’t quite put his finger on, she feels comfortingly familiar to talk to.

He must be lonely, he thinks, shaking his head.

It’s not like he’s ever seen her before.

As he stares at her, he hears a song playing somewhere in the back of his mind and he plucks it out slowly on his guitar, fingers dancing deftly across the strings. He’s not quite sure where the tune comes from; it’s both brand new and old, comforting and haunting, melodic and melancholy. But it’s something he somehow knows as well as he knows the sound of his own two hearts beating.

The waitress listens, dark brown eyes watching his hands, and then she asks, “What’s the song called?”

He looks up, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the guitar strings, and says:

“I think it’s called Clara.”

# “You said memories become stories when we forget them,” the waitress tells him later, after he’s confessed he can’t remember what Clara told him in the cloisters. “Maybe some of them become songs.” He thinks she sounds sad when she says it, and he thinks it might be because she knows what it feels like to lose someone too. He’s been around the universe long enough to know what grief looks like the instant he sees it, and it’s right there in her eyes when she looks at him, along with something else he can’t quite place. He wonders if maybe she’s saying that part about memories becoming songs for her own benefit as much as his.

He thinks that whoever she’s thinking of, whomever she’s lost, she must’ve loved them very much. And in reply, he strums his guitar and says, “That would be nice.” # The years pass and things change. He gets a job lecturing at a university, parks his TARDIS in his office, stops running so far and so fast. But the melody remains, its volume ebbing in and out like waves of the sea, sometimes quiet, sometimes loud. From time to time, he’ll hear the song playing brightly, right at the forefront of his mind. It’ll happen when he passes by an English teacher’s classroom, or when the café next door starts advertising soufflés. Sometimes it happens when he laughs, or before he falls asleep, whenever he’s happy or even when he’s sad, but it’s there.

It’s always, always, always there, this lyricless melody. Forever playing. Never leaving him.

He doesn’t think he ever wants it to. #

It’s late-afternoon sometime in the twenty-first century, and he’s in his office at Saint Luke’s University. He’s already graded several papers - three good ones he’s marked with an A, and a bad one he simply wrote pudding brain in circular Gallifreyan on - so now he takes a break, standing and slipping his guitar strap over his shoulders. His fingers fall across the strings, and lost in thought, he moves to stand beneath his office’s old ruby and sapphire stained-glass window, a mosaic of blues and reds reflecting across his silhouette as he plays.

“That song,” he hears someone behind him say, and slightly startled, he turns to see a woman with a wastebasket - one of the university’s janitors - standing in the doorway. “It’s pretty.” He blinks. He’d been playing almost unconsciously, like the music was all muscle memory as his mind wandered elsewhere, so it takes him a moment to recall exactly what song he’d been strumming, and then he remembers:

He was playing that song again. That song that never leaves him, the one he first played to a waitress in a retro American diner and hasn’t really stopped playing since.

He nods, a pattern of blue and red shadows moving across his face as he does, “I suppose it is.”

“I’m surprised you were playing it.”

He squints at her, eyebrows furrowing, “Why?”

The janitor shrugs her shoulders, “It’s just that you always play rock songs, that’s what you’re known for. But this song...this song’s so different than anything else you ever play.”

The Doctor supposes that she’s right. He likes loud songs, hard rock and guitar riffs and fast drumbeats that echo the rhythm of his two hearts after an adrenaline rush. Songs to run from Sontarans to. Songs to shoot through space to. Songs that drown out all the other lives he’s led and all the other voices in his head.

But this song he plays now is slow and soft and sweet and sad, and always winding its way through the back of his mind. He doesn’t always know exactly why he’s playing it, or sometimes that he’s even started to play it at all, just that it’s something he does.

The janitor stares at him, interrupting his thoughts once more as she asks, ”Does it have words?”

He knows that it used to, once upon a time, when he knelt in the cloisters with a girl he once knew but no longer does. She’d told him something important, but he can’t remember it, not a single sentence, not even a word. The melody remains lyricless, the words he wants always just beyond his grasp, forever dancing just out of his reach.

“No,” he answers. “No words. Not anymore.”

# “What’s it called?” A new student asks, like they all inevitably do. The semesters pass and his students change, but the song remains like a constant companion, and so that question does too. “Clara,” he answers, and her name feels at home on his lips.

# The night air is warm, but the breeze is cool. There’s a party going on in the courtyard of Saint Luke’s as the students and staff of the university celebrate the end of another semester, and the Doctor stands under a lit-up, glittering tree, it’s branches woven with white string-lights, and he plays his guitar in its glow. And then he spots her.

It’s that waitress from that diner in the desert.

She’s walking by, and he catches a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. She’s wearing that same nearly TARDIS blue dress as before, half covered with an apron, its stark white strings flying behind her like wings as she walks.

“You, Diner Girl!” he says suddenly.

(He’s doesn’t really know why he calls out to her, nor does he quite understand why his two hearts beat gratefully when she stops.

Maybe it’s because he’s been without a companion for so long.)

Diner Girl turns toward him, and he doesn’t really expect her to recognize him - after all, he only spent about an hour with her, a few years ago, just one of a million customers who must’ve come into her diner and sat on that stool - but she smiles at him like he’s an old friend.

“Hi,” she says as she steps toward him, the sparkling lights shining down across her smile like stars.

He raises an eyebrow, not sure whether she really remembers him or is simply feigning politeness. Something about her posture suggests that she’s lying.

“You remember me?”

“‘Course I do. You’re the man who played me a melody for a glass of lemonade,” she says. Then gently, quietly, so nearly noiseless he almost doesn’t catch it, she adds, “I don’t think I could ever forget you.”

So she does remember him. He must‘ve been wrong about her lying about something, he thinks. It’s hard to tell, sometimes, with humans, the odd, emotional creatures that they are.

She brings him back out of his thoughts by flashing him a smile that boarders on flirtatious as she says, “Bit surprised you remember me, though.”

“Never forget a face,” he banters back, but even as the words leave his lips, he knows it’s a lie.

There’s one face out there that he just can’t remember, no matter how hard he tries.

The waitress looks stricken for a second, like some sort of old wound she thought had long since scarred over has reopened, all painful and raw, but the look’s gone in an instant; she wipes it away with a shake of her head, her brown ponytail bobbing with movement as she does.

“So this is what you do, is it?” She asks, smiling as she gestures around at the school, looking just a little bit proud although he has no idea why she would.

”You teach here?”

”I lecture. What are you doing here?” “Catering,” she answers easily, motioning down at her uniform. “What, you thought I dressed as a waitress for no reason?”

He shrugs. Human nuances like fashion sense were lost on him. “People have worn odder. You should see some of the outfits I’ve picked out.” She raises an eyebrow at that, presses her lips together like she’s trying not to smile, and the Doctor asks, “So you’ve come back home from America?”

She shrugs, ”Oh, you know how it is. Can’t stay in one place too long.” “I know the feeling.”

“Bet you do.” She grins at him then, and he grins back at her, and as he does, his fingers begin to pluck out four familiar notes on his old guitar.

Diner Girl blinks, her lips parting for just a moment. She remembers the tune, he realizes, he can see the recognition and surprise register in her eyes at the sound of it. He watches as her gaze floats down to the guitar in his hands, and then flickers back up to his face as she says, “Still playing that song, huh?” “Always.”

“You ever remember anything this Clara told you?” “Not a word.”

She nods, and she looks sad, like she’s a breath away from breaking down, and something inside him twists, all raw and painful. He can’t stand the sight of tears, especially not tears from this girl. It’s nonsensical, this reaction of his. It’s not like she’s his friend, it’s not like he even really knows her, but for some reason he feels that if this tiny, brunette girl standing in front of him cries, it just might break his two hearts. “I can play a song for you, if you’d like,” he offers, because he can’t deny this strange impulse that wants him to do anything to get her to smile again. “In exchange for a lemonade?”

“No,” he says, shrugging and shaking his head, the pads of his fingers brushing against the guitar strings. “Just because.”

She stares, searches his eyes, and then something in him sighs with relief as he sees a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

“Keep playing me that song, then,” she orders cheekily, her eyes sparkling as her smile widens and she nods at his guitar. “You started it, might as well finish it.”

So he obeys and keeps playing, the song drifting through the air and floating softly on the breeze, and though it’s stupid and sentimental and certainly nonsensical, for a moment he feels like it’s as if Clara’s there with him.

Finally, he reaches the final part of the song, the last note lingering in the night, and then, quick as lightning, the waitress stands on the tips of her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. Before he has a chance to react, to exhale, to wonder why she would, she’s gone.

She had catering work to get back to, he supposes. # He questions once, when he’s playing it for what may be the thousandth time, how he can know this untaught song so well. And the answer he gives himself is:

He knows the song so well because it’s Clara, and what Clara told him in the cloisters, and she’s woven into his mind and two hearts so deeply that not even Time Lord technology can fully take her away.

He may not remember the sound of her laugh or the shade of her eyes, but he remembers how she made him feel and the lessons she taught him, and here they all are, wrapped up in the form of a wordless song that never leaves him.

He just wishes he’d never forgotten the lyrics that go with it.

#

The year is nineteen-fourteen and he is on a battlefield that is not a battlefield, standing beneath a snow-filled sky.

And he is dying.

It’s nothing new, this dying thing. He’s died oh so many times before. From one regeneration to the next, and then all those billions of times he burned himself up in the confession dial. Still, dying is not something you can get used to, and he finds himself hesitating, lingering in this life before he goes onto the next.

The glass creature made of memories that’s there with him must sense it, because she says, “I’ve got a little goodbye present for you.”

He scoffs at that, starts to make a joke, reply with the wit and wisdom that only dying men hold, but then his words fall silent and his breath catches beneath his collarbone, because Clara is standing in front of him.

And he recognizes her.

The air is cool and the sky is grey, but there’s this glow around Clara, all golden and soft, and when she looks up at him, the world feels a little less cold.

She smiles, warm and clever and bright, and there it is again: that song that’s always playing in the back of his mind.

“Clara,” he says softly, gently, a smile coming across his face at stares at her, and he hears the melody grow louder and sweeter.

“Hello, you stupid, old man,” she says, and there’s no mistaking the fondness in her voice as she says it, nor the love in her eyes she has when she looks at him, and he thinks he’s never seen or heard anything more beautiful.

He ducks his head, laughs at her loving insult, and bit by bit, his memories come back to him: the sound of her voice and then the flash of her smile. The way he felt when her arms wrapped around him and then the way he grinned at her jokes. How she was the waitress who told him that sometimes memories become songs, and then how she’d checked in on him without him ever knowing he was talking to her, to his Clara, and then and then and then...

Then comes what she told him in the cloisters.

It’s all back, every single sentence, each and every word, and those words that she said settle in his mind like stardust, sparkling and gentle, bright and beautiful. And he smiles, because finally, finally, finally, after all these years...

The melody in his mind has lyrics.

#whouffle #whouffaldi #doctor who #twelfth doctor #clara oswald #twelfth doctor x clara #twelveclara #clara x twelfth doctor #twelve x clara #clara x twelve #whouffle fic #whouffaldi fic #whouffaldi fanfic #whouffaldi fanfiction #whouffle fanfic #clara x the doctor #the doctor x clara #hell bent #my fic

[illwork4anime]

Excerpt from Done with Love Ch 4

Scene: Secret in the Flower Shop / Shogi with Shikamaru

Just sharing some of my favorite scenes from my In-Progress fic! Hope you guys enjoy!

Done With Love - Ch 4 [FF | AO3]

Ships: Hints of Shikasaku

Scene Summary: For Sakura’s genjutsu training, she must memorize details about the world around her in an artistic way rather than analytically. However, while at the flower shop, Ino spills a secret that has Sakura looking at Shikamaru in a new light.

Sakura is trying to see the world in a new light, with the eye of an artist rather than a scientist. It's going horribly.

She spent an hour yesterday browsing through flowers and journaling their details. How Violet petals transition from yellow to white to purple, how the textures of the petal were softer than smooth stems and the difference between the smell of a rose and a lily. Somehow the journal still came off more as a botanical case study than art.

It wasn't a total waste though. She'd got to spend some time with Ino at the Yamanaka flower shop.

"So, how's it going with Shika-ma-ru?" She asks, drawing out the last two syllables in his name. Sakura rolls her eyes, glancing up from the Violets.

"Fine, I guess. We haven't killed each other yet." She answers with a shrug.

"Sounds like sexual tension to me," Ino sings, and then adds, "If you guys just slept together, you'd get along so much better."

Sakura scoffs, "Gross, Ino-pig."

"Come on, you don't think Shikamaru's a little cute in a bookish kind of way?" Ino asks.

"We're just friends, Ino. I've never thought of him like that." Sakura answers, not looking up from her flowers this time.

"Yeah, right. I saw you guys at that restaurant, and you were way to cozy to just be friends." Ino argues, leaning over the counter.

"What's your deal with him, Ino?" Sakura says, frustrated. "Are you jealous or something? I feel like you're reading way too into this."

"Me? Jealous?" She scoffs, but Sakura narrows her eyes at her.

"Yeah, I think so." Sakura says. Ino shakes her head a few times. "I mean, what was with the whole 'Shikamaru prefers blondes' comment? Don't try telling me that wasn't referring to yourself."

Ino's mouth drops open. "Forehead! Why do you have to remember everything?" She pouts and answers, "So Shikamaru had a little crush on me when we were genin, but that was like so long ago. And we only kissed like one time and it doesn't even really count since he didn't use tongue."

"Wait, seriously?" Sakura abandons her flowerpot and strides over to the counter where Ino is leaning. "Why am I just hearing about this now?"

Ino waves a hand. "Because it was hardly a blip on the radar. Plus, it was when we were still fighting over Sasuke, so it's not like we talked ever."

"That's a huge blip! You kissed your teammate." Sakura presses. "Oh my god, Ino, was that you're first kiss?"

"So, what if it was?" Ino says defensively.

"Ino!" Sakura shrieks.

"There have been many more and many better since then. Trust me." Ino says.

"God, isn't it awkward working with him now?" She asks, imagining if she'd ever kissed Naruto and then had to face him every day for training or missions. She shudders.

"Not really. It was just a moment and we both know it. Sometimes it's better to get something like that out of your system. What can I say?" Ino shrugs. "It's not like we'd ever have something come out of it. The Yamanaka, Nara and Akimichi clans aren't allowed to have relationships anyway. Something about preserving the Kekkei Genkai."

She suddenly feels bad for Ino. No one should be able to tell you who to love. What if she had really loved Shikamaru and been forced apart?

"Don't give me that look, forehead," Ino says after glancing at the pity on Sakura's face. "I mean, sure, at the time it was a whole 'star-crossed lovers' feel, but I am like so over that. We never would have worked out anyway."

Sakura nods, feeling a little better. Until she remembers Choji, who seems to not be over it at all.

"I'd never date a teammate anyway, even if we were allowed. That's just too much overlap between work and play." Ino finishes with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

Poor, poor Choji.

"That reminds me," Ino recalls, "Did you really mean what you said about being done with Sasuke?" Giving her a probing look.

Sakura prickles, "Yes, is that really such a surprise?"

Ino looks at her like she's grown a second head, "Well, yeah! Your whole life was Sasuke and then out of nowhere you're 'over him'." Adding air quotes.

"Not just him. I'm done with relationships in general." Sakura responds.

"That I don't believe for a second." Ino states.

"Well it's true." Sakura insists, "I'm way too busy for a relationship anyway. I've got a lot riding on this training and I won't put myself on hold again for some guy who's probably just going to end up hurting me when it's all said and done."

"You're so cynical." Ino says judgmentally. "Not everyone has the same emotional baggage as Sasuke. You can't base your whole love life off him."

"It's not about him. It's about me, for once." Sakura counters, turning her nose up before saying, "I'm focusing on myself for a while."

"Boo," Ino heckles, "That's what they all say and its never true."

Sakura huffs, and returns to her journaling, knowing Ino was way too stubborn to quit. Why bother even trying to convince her otherwise?

***

Now, as she's sitting across from Shikamaru at the shogi board in Nara forest, the combination of Ino's confession and trying to catalog everything she looks at has her studying Shikamaru too closely. Distracting herself by observing the wood grain in the shogi board and the shine of the grass only goes so far. Before long she's back to memorizing the color of his cheeks in the sun or suppressing a mental picture him and Ino in a lip lock behind Training Ground 5.

She doesn't realize she'd been staring at him until he gruffly says, "You're move." His eyes are cast to the side, not meeting hers and his cheeks are a little pink.

"Sorry," She says, quickly returning to the game.

Compared to when she started playing, she was leaps ahead now. She hadn't won any games yet, but she'd come close, proof that she was learning. Although she'd never admit it to him, Shikamaru was right about this game being helpful. It made her think about everything more strategically and had really helped her out in her spars with Team Gai.

She selects her move quickly and sits back, chin resting in her hand again waiting for his turn.

She tries to focus on the board and plan, but her gaze gravitates to him again. His eyebrows are drawn together in the familiar way, and she knows his eyes are looking 20 moves into the future. His eyes are a clear, warm brown, just lighter than the boarder of the shogi board. Something about them is sharp despite the soft shade. Maybe the shape or the quickness in their movement?

Either way, she was starting to see what Ino described as 'bookishly cute'. If she'd seen his face on a stranger, she wouldn't look twice. Now after spending so much time with him, his features meld into something so familiar and so Shikamaru, she can't help but feel he's actually quite handsome. She'd never noticed before.

The conflicting sharp cheek bones and jaw line against the soft tones of his skin and eyes were balanced somehow. The way his lips are perpetually turned down at the corners was somehow endearing after a while. Even his chocolate colored ponytail she notices actually has streaks of chestnut that come out in the sunlight as the breeze blows it. Alone, each feature is plain, forgettable, but somehow together they come alive in a way that had her shoulders relaxing and her chest feeling light. Looking at him felt natural, like coming home after a long day. It felt safe.

"What?" He says softly, finally meeting her gaze. "You're staring,"

He's blushing again and looks down at the shogi board a moment later, eyes glued to a single piece.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just a little tired today. My mind keeps wandering." She lies, turning her attention back to the table. The truth about her assignment and Ino's confession are too embarrassing to share. Taking a few moments to refocus on the game, she remembers her strategy again, and makes her move. It's a good one.

Shikamaru makes a disapproving 'tsk', scowling in a way that's more of a pout for him. "I was hoping you wouldn't do that." He mumbles, crossing his arms.

She tries to suppress the smile rising to her face. One, she's insanely proud that she's getting good enough to be frustrating. Two, something about the unguarded expression on his face is just so cute.

She should feel horror at the thought, but her chest is just light. Now that she's seen it, she can't unsee it. Her eyes bounce between the board and him, guessing at what move he could be planning and reading each expression as they flit across his face.

'I could move that there,' one seems to say, 'but then…that won't work' another counters.

She lets out a quiet laugh through her nose, accidentally drawing his attention again.

"What?" He says a little more forcefully this time.

"Nothing, you're just so cute when you're concentrating." The truth is out of her mouth before she can stop it, and Shikamaru goes bright red, mouth wobbling between his pout and a smile and his eyes drop to the board again. Sakura grins.

"You're making fun of me," He huffs, mouth finally settling into to pout.

"Maybe," she says impishly. Shikamaru grumbles something sounding like 'troublesome' under his breath, and makes his move, cheeks still pink. He never really recovers, and for the first time its Sakura who wins.

He accuses her of cheating, but Sakura insists it still counts.

#WIP #Fanfiction #fanfic #naruto fanfiction #shikasaku #shikamaru nara #shikamaru #sakura #sakura haruno #ino #ino yamanaka

[griffinsandpeacocks]

FORFEIT! Section 5: “Where are your clothes?”(Was posted later than I had meant was supposed to be on the 26th, I had thought it was posted but as it wasn’t till 28th this is a forfeit prompt that I posted anyway, so it’s not in the challenge but too lazy to give it a proper title.)

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD

Dorian was rather shocked he and Bull had come this far. From thinly hissed accusations that Bull was going to kill him to this... Sitting on said qunari’s chest looking down at him and pouting that his hands are held. He’d been feeling up his lover and was mildly perturbed he’d been stopped in his tracks.

“I’m either groping your boobs or your dick, so chose!” Dorian chirps and Bull grumbles about to make a remark on Dorian being a peacock or even laugh what was he gonna do about it only for the door to creak and Dorian goes break neck tense magic washing over him and he cloaks and vanishes. Bull would love to see that trick in action but Dorian admits the only way for magic to cloak like this was if the mage stayed perfectly still. Useless on a battle front perfect in a scenario like this. 

“Bull, I - Where are your clothes?” The inquisitor had come to a dead stop blinking like an owl at the nude qunari. He’d been reading something when he’d come in and still held it chest height as the elf blinks at him in shock his face slowly taking on a pink tint. 

“On that chair.” Bull replies tilting his head in the direction of the chair and his clothes, in the far corner. Neatly folded up because Dorian was a menace. Dorian’s own clothes were still on him save his boots which were tucked on the far side of the bed from Lavellan. 

“Okay... Why aren’t you wearing them...? The elf asks next face slowly becoming bright red. Remarkably he keeps a neutral expression though his eyes are blinking like an owl’s. 

“Why didn’t you knock?” Bull asks back grinning as he knows this irks the elf.

“Don’t answer my question with a question, ass.” The elf groused.

“Alright, but if you’d knocked I might still be naked but you’d have gotten a warning.” Bull points out and the elf sighs and looks away and sets the report on the pants.

“Know what? Fuck it, you have fun wanking off or whatever you’re doing some weird Qunari fetish ritual thing, and read that after, I need serious opinions and no one else would be helpful. Sort of... I need an unbiased opinion. I don’t have the option to handle this myself so... yeah. I’ll be in my office, rooms whatever the tower is supposed to be when you get the chance.” He turns and walks out face and ears tinged pink and Bull likes the image. He glances at Where Dorian should be after the door clicks shut and the spell washes away like water as Dorian can’t hold back snickers that quickly turn to laughter. 

“The poor dear..” He chuckles and Bull snorts.

“He’ll be fine, now what was that about my options?” He asks and Dorian focuses like a hawk.

“Oh, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He says suddenly affecting an indifferent tone face set in a neutral expression with only hints of mild curiosity. Bull let’s his hands circle his waist and moved Dorian down to his lap and grinds up making the mage flush.

“I think you do, vint.” Bull growls and Dorian sighs and wiggles his hips smirking smug like a cat that got the canary.

“Maybe, now that you mention it... Which option would you like?” Dorian asks cheekily and Bull growls again just to see that shiver run over the mage. 

“I’d rather you take a ride rather than just grope.” Bull says and Dorian hums thoughtfully. The mage tilts his head and taps his chin thoughtfully. 

“That means I’ll have to strip.” Dorian sighs as if it’s such a terrible bother. Bull growls his blunted nails dig into the mage’s sides.

“Or I can tear up those pants of yours.” Bull growls and Dorian swallows shivering. He wants to act affronted but he can’t and the bastard knew just how to make him squirm. Which he was currently doing. Dammit. He stilled his hips.

“I don’t have any spare clothes here, don’t.” Dorian’s voice wobbles a little on the last word and Bull chuckles.

“Then you best strip, vint, or I’m gonna tie you up in tatters of your robes.” Bull growls and Dorian quickly rolled off Bull and stood and stripped off his robes in record time. He wasn’t ashamed to reveal he was hard and definitely desperate, though he would not verbally admit that ever. Period. He was a proud Altus mage, dammit. He had been with quite a few men, all of varying talent and skill, even morals but none of them compared to Bull in any form. None of them made Dorian as eager as he was to lay back and take it, none of them got him as worked up either. None of them had the same knack for relaxing him and making him vulnerable like Bull could. Bull could get him to do things he’d burn others into cinders for even daring to ask. Yet Bull only had to give one of his ridiculous winks and Dorian would trip over himself to get it done. 

“So, finally ready to be a good boy?” Bull asks and Dorian goes pink glowering at the ox as he moves back to the bed slinging his leg back over the strong waist. Warm hands wrap around his hips and Dorian sighs and relaxes.

“Depends on if I’ll be getting a treat for being good.” Dorian sighs and Bull chuckles.

“You might.” Bull chuckles and Dorian hums. Bull holds the mage still as he slowly stretches him out watching Dorian try to writhe has his blood pumping. He makes sure the altus is stretched out slowly working up from one finger to two, pulling back to add oil as he adds a digit and starts to stretch the mage out in earnest. Once he has four worked in he stalls teasing watching the human wiggle as he massaged the man’s prostate. He can’t deny the sight has gotten to him. Watching Dorian arch into his hand had Bull feel rather powerful, yeah sure he could crush a human’s skull in with his bare hands but seeing Dorian loose himself like this was another power on it’s own. Especially knowing Dorian could turn him to an ash pile with a flick of his hand. This was a power that he knew no one had. Taming The Dorian Pavus, Altus Mage of the Imperium was a rush of adrenaline even after managing it countless times. Seeing Dorian let go and give into him was always as good as that first time.  

“Bull! Please, fasta vass, get on with it!” Dorian growls and Bull chuckles and crooks his fingers smirking as the mage jerks and lets out a whine. Seeing him lit on torch light covered in sweat was always nice but this time he sees a whirl of fire slip between the mages teeth and he growls shivering himself and Dorian gives him that winning smirk of his dove grey eyes half hooded and that flush high on his cheeks. Bull grabs the back of his head and pulls him down for a kiss chasing that lingering heat with his tongue and lapping up the sounds Dorian is letting out.

“Then get on with it, my pretty mage.” Bull chuckles as he pulls back and watches Dorian hiss and roll his hips as he pulls his fingers out of the tight heat. Dorian watches him and hisses the small jet of fire again and Bull’s hands wrap around the slim hips of golden tan skin growling as his grip boarders bruising. Dorian hums happily carefully positioning his hips and sinking down taking his time though his eyes look hazed and he looks wrecked. 

“You look good like this, gonna bounce and spit some more fire?” Bull asks and Dorian chuckles moaning lowly as he finally bottoms out he paused taking a moment to breathe. 

“Do you want me to spit some more fire?” Dorian asks and Bull growls low like he knows Dorian likes though the mage would never admit it.

“Oh I effeminately want you too, be my dragon, kadan.” Bull growls and Dorian chuckles gasping as Bull bounces him himself and Dorian closes his eyes and blushed and swallowed gasping and hisses a small jet of fire which tapers when Bull tags his sweet spot.

“Amatus, please!” Dorian whines already desperate and Bull hums and rolls them cradling Dorian before he moves back and goes all out on making sure his human wasn’t going to be walking without a careful sway to his hips. He growls as Dorian spits small jets of flame when he can focus enough to do so which was surprisingly often either that or he enjoyed how it riled Bull and got him to be a little more rough and grip him harder and thrust faster.

“Please, amatus, please?” Dorian whines squirming he is gasping and can’t handle not cuming much longer it’s almost painful and he’s growing too sensitive to hold back. Not that it’s his choice given Bull’s holding the base of his cock and keeping him from loosing it until he gives the word.

“Please what, kadan?” Bull asks breath getting a bit heavy and Dorian growls a last jet of fire at him as he tugs him down by his horns.

“Fucking cum and make me a complete mess you damn savage and let me cum already!” He growls and Bull smirks and kisses the mage hard as he picks up his pace.

“Alright Kadan, you got it.” Bull chuckles and lets go rutting as Dorian let’s out a hiss and spasms in Bull’s hold and cums making a mess between them as Bull gets the last few ruts in before loosing his control and let’s lose a growl as he fills Dorian up loving the little airy gasp the mage gives him. He carefully pulls back and grabs a rag cleaning up the worst of the mess he collapsed and pulls Dorian on top of him chuckling as the mage grumbles but curls contentedly closer. 

“So, you gonna tell me how you learned that trick, kadan?” Bull asks and Dorian chuckles. He looks up looking rumpled with a few bruises Bull looks over smugly painted on his hips and neck when Bull had bitten at him earlier before they’d been walked in on. 

“I figured out how to do it after burning my mouth a few times. Heard that some Ravini mages had figured it out, had Varric look into it, studies the books they sent over and voila! Me spitting fire like a drake.” Dorian gestures grinning tiredly and Bull chuckles and nods.

“Really freakin hot.” Bull chuckles lowly and Dorian grins.

“That is the idea given fire and all.” He chuckles and Bull laughs. After a short nap and a small wash up Bull reads the report and his teasing stops his smile fades and Dorian pushes himself to sit up and lean around to read gasping as he reads what’s going on. The Inquisitor’s clan was in a free marcher city and if they didn’t get help it was likely everyone, the merchants and elves would die. 

“This isn’t right...” Dorian whispers and Bull growls and looks at the options.

“He’ll have to send in forces or they’re dead.” Bull says and Dorian nods.

“Shall we go or shall I leave it to you, amatus?” Dorian asks and Bull shrugs.

“I think he’d like to see two friendly faces.” Bull says as they dress and go to the tower. The inquisitor looks up as they come in and he blushes and looks back down coughing.

“You should get better at cloaking Dorian. I could still smell you. Also your outline shimmers.” He says and keeps writing then sets aside the quill and he looks up again this time face set in a calm expression though his insides twist.

“I don’t want to be rash, what are your opinions?” He asks and Bull sets the report on the desk.

“You have an ambassador there. As well as your clan. Send troops.” Bull says and Dorian nods.

“They need help.” Dorian agrees softly and the elf nods looking down he stands and picks up the report. 

“Then they’ll have it. As much as I can give them.” The elf says staring hard at them both he walks down and he sends out troops and he waits eventually going to the two seeking out a harbor to hide as he waits praying what’s left is safe.

~

Word count: 2,109

#fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #dorian pavus #iron bull #dorian x bull #elf inquisitor #smut

[flightofaqrow]

the job

qrow + Leonardo ( @maidensvault​ )

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“ Qrow! You truly came. Thank you for coming on such.. such short notice. ” Carefully, Leo continued; “ Some of my teachers have gone missing. ”

“well, that’s concerning alright.” 

pros are pros for a reason, and patterns like that when it came to huntsman and huntresses usually turned up a source for their design. yeah, qrow’s gonna need a quick drink for this one.

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> “ Qrow! You truly came. Thank you for coming on such.. such short notice, ” Leonardo said hastily, posture stressed despite the relief in his tone. “ I know how difficult it is for you to make your way through boarders, but I needed someone I could trust. Especially with everything else going on… ” His eyes glanced aside for him to swallow down the acid in his throat. “ Ahem. Anyways, I need your help. ”

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    “hey, don’t worry about it,” qrow flicks his chin up and tosses his hair back as if shaking off the very idea. (if there’s one person borders meant nothing to, it’s him.) “…that’s what i’m here for.”  although Leonardo looks very worried anyway. it’s unlike him to act so distant, like he’d lost some chunk of his usual pride.

     he sighs while expectant fingers tap on his forearms, “..so what’s the job?”

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  > “ Right… yes, that’s true. ” Breath held still in his lungs for more than a second while his mind worked through how to explain the situation. Or, at least as much as he was willing or able to weed his way through. He couldn’t go in depth, even to the slightest extents that he could to others due to how quickly Qrow worked through situations, how easily he caught details. Carefully, he continued; “ Some of my teachers have gone missing. Only a few, but you know very well only capable huntsmen and huntresses work as teachers at Haven. I need your insight. For them to be missing, and for now two months.. it’s far from a good sign. ”

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“well, that’s concerning alright.” so is Leo’s continued hesitation. he shouldn’t have to think so hard about giving simple orders. this felt more like trying to get Ruby to admit when she’d stolen cookies from the jar than an official briefing. but a mission is given nonetheless, one that’s far more concerning for every reason he’d said. pros are pros for a reason, and patterns like that when it came to huntsman and huntresses usually turned up a source for their design. yeah, he’s gonna need a quick drink for this one.

“okay,” qrow tucked his flask away again, and started scratching his chin in thought, “i see two issues here. one is trying to find these people. two is finding out why they went missing in the first place. what’s my focus here? you got anyone else working on the first part yet?”

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  >  Ocher eyes followed the rise and fall of his flask. Of course he was still drinking. Leo wasn’t sure why he supposed that he might not be the case, all he could blame it on was a hope. He took in a deep breath in, then out. “ Finding them is the most important factor right now. Mistral never was… the safest place, ” he replied with an almost sad shake of his head. His hands hesitated in front of his own chest for a moment before they spread out, Lionheart’s wrists moving carefully, but slowly to emphasize his words.

“ With students coming from the lower tiers of this city, we’ve had problems in the past with local smugglers and criminal territories keeping a hand on the children under our care. I’m sure you understand why I’m so worried and why I can’t draw attention to this matter for better or for worse. ” His hand sifted through one of his pockets hidden by the shawl kept around his shoulders. Not long after, he offered over a small, rectangular piece of plastic. “ Here’s your ID for free use of the cable-way. I made sure to have it prepared for you in advance. ” An almost embarrassed pause followed. “ Do you.. need a map? I hadn’t thought of that.. ”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow’s heart sits a little more at ease with the genuine concern Leo shows. the man fears for his kingdom, and maybe it truly rattles him enough to be so jumpy overall. still, he hates to think he’s the only set of eyes looking out for so many people, even if what Leo says in far too many words is that discretion is called for. “so that’s a ‘no.’ got it.”

he takes the ID and slips it into a different shirt pocket, bringing his scroll out in its place and lightly tossing it into the headmaster’s desk. “thanks. got all the maps i need right here, but if you have any, ah… points of interest or profiles for all this, feel free to transfer ‘em.”

arms cross over his chest and he stares practically through the floor as he continues his questioning. “…along with any priorities? leads? make my day here, Leo. tell me you’ve got at least a few crumbs for me to start from.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

   > An expression of defeat followed the harsh simplification of his explanation, eyes shifting to look down for a moment with a nod. The scroll made his head jerk up from the grimly held almost bow soon after. “ Right… yes, your scroll. I always forget what they’re capable of, ” he explained and reached to grab the condensed scroll. “ Here, let me place a marker on your map for a safe resting place away from all the havoc. ”

 “ I wish we had more than what I can give you. ” Leo did shift to look his trusted ally in the face once he finished at the very least. His hands multitasked, setting the scroll back on the edge of his desk while they pulled a small and somewhat cheap satchel from below the drawers to his right. “ These have the information on the missing teachers. It’s difficult for us to tell if some of our absent students are indeed missing or.. otherwise, due to the inaccessibility of many parents here. ”

 “ Even still, I have no doubts you can find something from the photos, Qrow. I will call in advance to some stores down below so they can maybe let you view their security footage, but being here makes that difficult. We haven’t even been able to use our own cameras for days now due to a security malfunction. ”

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havoc. sure, mistral had its darker corners and levels, but that’s not a word qrow would typically use for the whole city. one more tally to add to his ‘doesn’t bode well’ board. can’t argue with a new place to check out, however. hopefully it’s a tavern.

“trust me, i’ll take it,” figuratively and literally, as he picks his scroll back up along with the satchel. his frown lifts to something more neutral, but retreats right back into a scowl as he leafs through the documents. so the priority is teachers over students, but… “Leo…” a hint of despair laces his next sigh, “these people should have been more than capable of handling themselves. this is…”

his hand raises to the air as if he could grasp anything there at all, but he’s not saying anything Leo doesn’t already know. it flops dejectedly back to his side, “well, we’ll find out.”

he packs everything away, and readies to go. “I’ll look these over, check out that footage and report back in the evening with a plan for tomorrow. and you really need to get your own cameras under control as soon as possible.”

if it’s bad enough to call him away from other duties, then haven really can’t afford any blind spots.

#* betrayed your own pride = maidensvault ** leonardo * #* i gave you my life = past * #* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *

[maggyme13]

Fictober: Ring- Loki

AN: So I love the idea of Inktober, though i wanted to do it a bit different. like writing a short fic and then draw a picture to it using the officially prompt list. But i had to cut that idea because of time. So I now try and write short snipplets and stories to every prompt. I know I might end up doing this far over the boarders of October, but who cares?

Those stories will be about  Loki, Azog, Happy, Bane, Deadpool or Bucky, and a friend helped me add prompts and characters by rolling a dice.

So I hope you have as much fun reading them as I have writing them :)

Here we go:

Wordcount: around 800

Warnings: Cursing

Prompt: Ring

Masterlist

“What so special about that thing? It looks like it came out of a bubblegum dispenser.”, your soon to be ex-friend Sam Wilson cursed.

“Because it was!”, you shouted back, ready to throw a punch, which was evident in your voice.

“Then why are you going crazy like that? DSit down and play a round of Mario Card with us.”, Sam´s partner in crime Bucky Barnes laughed, “ THere is a dispenser a dfew blocks down from the Tower.”

“Fuck you Barnes and Fuck you WIlson! I got it from a friend of mine when we were kids!”, you cursed at thdem, tears of anger in your eyes and aiming a couch cussion at the males.”FRIDAY, can you do another scan? Please.”

“I already scanned the twoer six times. I fear the results won´t be any different from those.”, the AI dsighted (?) at you.

“Thank you none the less, “ you answered, “ I will jkust go back to my quaters. And please, don´t feel the need to disturb me.”

“Damn, she get´s pissy. She better find that thing soon or I am gonna lose IT.”, was the last thing you heard Barnes mumble.

__

Tears soaked your pillow not five minutes later.

“Stupid Bucky! Stupid Sam!”, you sobbed, “Why can´t they understand how important the ring is for me?”

“Maybe you shoudld tell them?”, a male, you didn´t thought you would hear, said.

“WHat do you want Loki?”, you hissed, though your voice was muffled by the soaked pillow, “You want to make fun of me, too?”

“Right the opposite. I want to help you and return something to you.”

Retu- “You found my ring?!”, you happily exclaimed, literally jumping off the bed.

“If this is your missed jewelery , than yes!”, the god of mischief  smiled, opening his hand.

And indeed, in the male´s palm laid your missed ring.

“Where did you find it?”, you asked, your voidce muffled  from the way your head was burried into his chest from your hug, “Thank you soooo much.”

“My pleasure. ANd to answer your question: I saw it laying on the flooe during our last mission. It seemed familiar, so I took it with me.”

“Thawn hwu.”, you hugged him even deeper, “bwt how dwu you want two wlp me?”

“I will make soemthing they hold very dear disappear.”

At least the will fear the same as me.

“Please leave Steve where he is. I dont want to be responsible for the third world war.”

“As you wish.”, he chuckled.

__

A few days later:

“Where is it? I can´t find it! It can´t just disappear?!”, you heard Barnes grumble, litteraly lifting the coach to search beneath.

“Buck, have you seen Redwing I? I can´t find him and I start to get worried.”, Sam called from the the other side of the room, just as frantic as you had been only days prior.

“Not that it´s any of my business, but wasn´t that knife all rusty and dull? So, why don´t you just buy a new one? And Redwing the first, really? You have six more of them, Wilson. TOny is propably buying you a seventh one just as we speak. Chill out.”, you shrugged sounding annoyed, giving just as good back as they had done before, all the while sitting down to watch TV with some popcorn on your hand.

“-It´s important to me.”-”He is important to me.”, the men exclaimed at the same time, only to look at each other and then team up to glare at you.

“And? No need to get all pissy and better find that thing soon. Or I know at least one person who is gonna lose their shit.”. Using their own words against them felt good, and you couldn´t suppress the proud smirk when you noticed them realize waht you had just said; they at least looked ashamed of themselves.

“We were total Assholes-” “-weren´t we?”, they mumbled

“Yes.”

"We are sorry.”, they exclaimed at once.

“Good.”, you answered with a nodd.

“SO, where is our stuff?", they asked carefully not to anger you into not telling.

“I have no freaking clue. Tell me when you found them. Maybe my ring is there as well.”, you shrugged, not even glancing at them.

“Oh come on. you know something!”, Sam groaned.

“Maybe. But why should I tell you? You were pretty dbig Assholes.”, you asked with squinted eyes, finally looking at them.

“Because we are sorry-”

“-and learned our lesson?”, they smiled with their best puppy-dog- eyes.

“Fiiiine-”, you answered, “ I will get your stuff. And you two can oder pizza. As part of your apology.”

“As usual?”, the man with the metal arm asked.

“As usual.”, you nodded, “And get some pizza sticks with aioli as well!”

AN 2.0: So let me know what you think :)

Permanent:

@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey @thankyoukarenclifford

@thankyouforanonymity  @punkrockhufflefluff

@scarletraine

@ambrosialyn

 @markusstraya

@graveyard-groupie

@buckycaptspideypool

 @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil

MCU:

@yknott81    @banner-and-bucky-are-life @forext20 @dyanlzbb  @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4 @caplansteverogers @bitchwhytho @ladyofmyst   @jilldsumner @momc95

#mcu #reader insert #bucky #Bucky Barnes #Sam #Sam Wilson #Platonic #Inctober a bit different #fanfiction #Loki #Loki x platonic!reader #Loki x Reader #friendship

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Written for Trope Madness’s betting kitty winner, @ruleofexception! It’s been....over six months, but here is this HUGE BEAST of a chapter. I know I said I thought this would be the last Laxdo chapter, BUT...there’s gonna be at least one more!

There hadn’t been much in the way of entertainment, back in the country. At least, not the way Shirayuki’s constantly bombarded with it here, videos up on billboards and scrolling across phones on the subway. The B&B had a limping internet connection, and with the only television in the common room, she’d spent more time inside a book or outside the house than struggling to find a channel the other boarders would agree to.

So when Zen asked her to join D&D, when Kiki had teased her for not even knowing what she’d said yes to --

Well, she’d done her research. Not just the kind Izana gave her, reading source books and studying lore, but watching videos, listening to podcasts, finding the D&D episodes of popular shows -- anything that would give her something to expect. Nothing could have rivaled her disappointment or her relief when she realized costumes were optional; she hadn’t known how she would cobble together historically accurate, fourth century Welsh gown when even the SCA shrugged their shoulders at the idea, but, well...it was exactly the sort of challenge she would have risen to, if she had the excuse.

Still, she’d thought she had an idea of what to expect: roleplay, quick thinking, rich story, complicated feelings, improv, maybe even some funny voices, but --

Nothing had prepared her for the amount of planning.

“So that’s it?”

Shirayuki startles; she’d been deep into splitting healing duties with Mitsuhide. Paladins are only half spell casters, only good for buffs and an occasional off-heal, so all the curse removal duties fall to Lynet. Bedwyr is more or less moral support; unless the curse itself had some sort of permanent stat drain, there’s nothing he can do.

Zen isn’t invested in this conversation, of course; magi don’t have magic that can’t be applied to themselves or their weapon. Which is why he’s craning his neck toward Izana, incredulous. “We just cast a whole bunch of Remove Curse and then hit the road?”

Shirayuki isn’t an expert on Izana’s expressions, not when the difference between them is the angle of an eyebrow or the twitch of a lip, but she feels confident in calling this one positively withering. “Is that what you think you should do?”

The temperature of the room drops two degrees. That’s a question where everyone knows the answer.

“We still don’t know who started this,” Mitsuhide tries, haltingly, thick fingers worrying at the edge of his character sheet. From the dog-eared corners on every side, this isn’t a first-time occurrence. “It’s not a good habit to leave enemies behind us.”

“Not a healthy one, at least,” Kiki adds, leaning her knee against the table.

“But we don’t have any hints either.” Zen’s flushed, frustrated. “Do you guys just want to hang around here, waiting for him to come back? If he comes back?”

“Or her.” Kiki’s brow twitches, and Shirayuki’s not sure whether to read it as amusement or annoyance. Maybe both is the better bet. “Then again, you haven’t tried to woo any rescued damsels this session, so probably not a dread sorceress. Unless there’s something Shirayuki isn’t telling us.”

Kiki turns to her with an inquisitive look, and even though she knows she’s joking, even though she sees the quirk at the corner of her lips, Shirayuki’s cheeks flare fire-engine red.

“Hey!” Zen snaps, not looking much better. “Shirayuki--”

“Well.” Obi’s mouth cants, eyes catching hers from their corners. “I know Beaumains is under her spell.”

She can feel it, this moment of opportunity being flung open like a window, and -- and his wink is not helping matters. Not at all. Especially not when Kihal’s flirt back or make out with his face is burning a hole in her pocket, reminding her of what she was trying to do before plot carried her away. It’s just --

She can’t say something now. This isn’t Lynet and Beaumains, this is -- is them, Shirayuki and Obi, and that might mean something, and she doesn’t -- she isn’t --

Well, there’s just a huge difference between a flirtation and a boyfriend, probably. And she hardly knows if she wants the first, let alone -- that. Not with some college boy she’s known a week. He might play trumpet, for all she knows.

The moment stretches on, too long, and Kiki hums, amused. “I suppose that is some damning evidence.”

“Okay.” Zen’s folded himself into a huff, fuming so hard it’s an honest surprise smoke isn’t pouring out his ears. “So you all think we should just...hang around? Hope for some Big Bad to come wandering back to check his work?”

“Well.” The word bursts out of her, unbidden, but -- she’s committed now, with everyone watching her. “We do have, um, another reason.”

He blinks, some of his flush fading back to pink. “Oh?”

“I, uh, only prepared one Removed Curse at our last rest.” Her hands twist themselves in knots under the table, anxious. “But I can fix that at our next one! If this works like it should, then I should be able to get everyone on their feet in...a few days, maybe?”

Zen lets loose a whine that would make a puppy worry. “A few days.”

“Um, well...” Shirayuki squirms in her seat. “Give or take.”

Kiki’s eyes narrow. “Just how many spell slots do you have?”

“Um...” She flips through her sheet, squinting at the chart on the second page. “Three?”

Mitsuhide lets out a worried hum, too high-pitched for a man his size. “How many people are under this spell again?”

The question sits heavily at the table until Izana leans back, the picture of surprise, and asks, “Oh, are you asking me?”

Zen stares. “Is there someone else who would know?”

“It could have been rhetorical. A nice little thought exercise.” He shrugs, and Shirayuki does not miss the way his mouth twitches at a corner. “But the answer is: as many as it takes to make a castle of this size function.”

Zen groans.

“Oh, looks like we better get comfy, my liege,” Obi says with a wolfish grin. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

This night is your longest yet; you had thought the first interminable, when all the miasma of illness hung thick over the room, choking you even behind yours mask. Despair had clung to every wrinkle in your gown, tight like a child’s hand on a mother’s apron, always niggling, reminding you that time would run out, that perhaps no amount of your cleverness could save them.

But hope is worse.

There is no reason to pick the man you do -- or rather, the lack of one becomes it. With only a single brew, Bedwyr suggests that you spend it on the castle’s healer, but--

But this magic is familiar somehow. It slicks along your skin like a drop of oil in water, and though you cannot divine its maker, you do not trust it to act as it ought. Curse though it may be, there is a part of you that worries any cure that you brew will only add to your troubles.

You worry over that same thought for endless hours, trying to get to the marrow of it, to logic out why dread settles so firmly in your gut. There has never been an instance, not one, where your gifts have failed you, where the joy of victory has turned to ashes in your mouth. Except for the one, of course.

Despite your misgivings, the man wakes at dawn.

It is not a calm thing, oh no; he heaves into life, breath filling his chest so forcefully it arches him upright. He clutches at his breast, wide-eyed, but besides the atrophy expected of long illness and the shock of waking, he is healthy. So healthy he empties the first bowl of broth you give him, and the second, and when you bring the third he inquires after a heel of bread as well.

“Well, this certainly stands as a testament to your skill,” Arturius remarks, bemused, as the man sops up his bowl. You are tired, and for a moment you are tempted to ask if he had doubted it, but -- it would be picking a fight, and it is not the prince’s fault that his particular skills meant he slept, rather than wait.

“I brewed more last night,” you tell him. “Enough dose for three.”

“Our priority is the healer, of course.” He bites his lip, head tipped back in thought. “But the others...”

For the first time in hours, you feel your mouth lift into a smile. “I did have a thought about that...”

Izana blinks. “The dwarf?”

“He’s cursed, isn’t he?” She must be the only one that remembers; despite happening only hours ago, the rest of the party stares blankly at her. “Worse than anyone else, if I’m remembering right.”

“Oh,” Obi hums, thoughtful. “Yeah, I think I remember that. He’s human.”

“Oh, right.” Zen scoops up the dwarf’s figure, squinting hard at its shapeless features. “I thought he was going to be the Big Bad’s sidekick, honestly.”

“Mm, agreed.” Kiki leans over, giving the plastic the same skeptical look. “I was waiting for the backstab.”

“Such little faith in your fellow man,” Izana clucks, shaking his head.

She arches a brow, eloquent in her disdain. “It is your game.”

His mouth stretches, curling into a smile Shirayuki’s only ever seen on the Grinch. “That is fair.”

“Still.” The word drags Izana’s attention back to her, his eyes almost comically wide. “I want to give our friend at least one of these. After all, he’s been helping us this whole time.”

“Has he though?” Obi mutters, and without even thinking, Shirayuki puts an elbow straight in his side.

Every hair stands on end as she realizes what she’s done. She’s -- she’s practically scolded him, the boy she maybe-kind of-might want to flirt with. Or his character, at least. For, you know, fun.

When she dares a glance at him, his eyes have rounded, eyebrows practically up at his hairline, but -- but --

He almost looks impressed.

“Huh,” Izana huffs out, drawing her attention back to the topic at hand. “Do you now.”

It’s not a question, but she hasn’t gotten this far by letting him practice his rhetoric. “I do.”

He hums, tapping at his notes. “Well, I suppose you could...try.”

“Me?” The dwarf shifts on his spindly legs, wringing his thick-fingered hands over his belly. “But -- but there are others. Other who would be of much more use than me!”

“We have more than enough for your healer,” you assure him, though you have to grit your teeth as he dances.

There’s something strange, off-kilter about the way he moves, about the way his face changes, as if your mind is trying to make him into two different people entirely -- one which is familiar, and one which is entirely not. It is tiring to say the least.

You meet his eyes, those warm hazel-green, and say, “You have helped us immeasurably. Who else could be more important than you?”

“The head of the guard?” he supplies with a squeak. “The steward. The -- the cook? Anyone, my lady, would be more helpful that me.”

You lower yourself to a chair, coming to his height. “No one is more important here than the man who knows how this all came to be.”

His gaze is watery when he tears it from yours. “No, no,” he insists, voice ragged. “Spend it on the others. All of them are more deserving than me.”

"Welp.” Obi pops the ‘p’, annoyed, and it draws attention to his mouth, to the way it fits around the words he speaks and -- well, Shirayuki really didn’t need help with that. “We’re doing real good, solving this mystery.”

It’s been three in-game days, and with every awoken man, more questions are asked than answered. So far none of them can remember being cursed, and when they bring the dwarf in front of them --

Well, Shirayuki knows this is all pretend, that the dwarf is really just Izana bending his voice into something new, but the way his expression crumples as every soldier calls him a stranger -- it’s a lot.

“What is even happening here?” Zen groans, fingers pulling at his face. “The dwarf knows something, but he won’t tell us.”

“He can’t tell us.” It comes out a little sharper than she intends, but -- it’s an important distinction. “He’s cursed.”

“Right,” he agrees absently. “But also he won’t let us help him, so it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Her hands clench on her lap. “It’s really n--”

“Can’t you just cast it on him anyway?” Obi asks, chin in hand, drumming his fingers on the table. “Then bingo-bango-bongo: the whole problem is solved.”

Her jaw drops. “I’m not going to treat a patient without his consent!”

Obi rounds on her, eyes incredulously wide. “He’s not real.”

That...is a good point, she’ll give him that.

“Well, he’s real to Lynet,” she informs him primly, setting her hands flat on the table. “And she would never.”

For a moment is mouth goes flat, annoyed, but then -- then it curls, Obi leaning casual on one fist. “I’m sure Beaumains could be persuasive.”

Her mouth wraps around the word, silent. The look he gives her is too knowing, eyebrows lifted in invitation, and she’s so, so tempted to ask just what kind of persuasion Beaumains might be inspired to do--

“Even if Shirayuki cast it, he could still resist it with a Will save,” Mitsuhide interjects, sending the moment skittering. “If he wanted to, at least. And then we’d be out of a spell slot.”

“If we’re stuck here, we should be focusing on the Big Bad anyway.” Zen settles back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and leaving it adorably askew, like he’d just woken up. “Someone has to have said something interesting, right? And we’re not just thinking about it.”

Mitsuhide leans a chin in his hand, pondering the idea. “The head of the guard mentioned that a traveling caravan came through before this all happened.”

Kiki nods. “And the steward mentioned buying wood from traveling merchants. Probably the ones who supplied the logs with the Will debuff.”

Zen settles back, thoughtful. “So you think they were force to sell the wood?”

“They must have some leverage on them,” Mitsuhide agrees. “They didn’t mention any children--”

“Or maybe,” Kiki deadpans, “they were all bandits?”

Mitsuhide gapes. “But there were women in the caravan.”

“Oh my,” she hums, teeth flashing behind her lips. “You’re right. How silly of me. We all know a woman could never be dangerous, oh no.”

“T-that’s not what I meant!”

“Oh?” Kiki smiles, and the room drops an entire degree. Shirayuki practically shivers in the chill. “It better not be.”

Shirayuki blinks, and between one moment as the next, Kiki stabs her pen into the table, leaving it quivering like a knife.

Izana huffs in annoyance. “Kiki, please. The table didn’t do anything to you.”

“It’s just between the leaves.” She shift her character sheets, and there it is: pen nib wedged perfectly into the crevice. With nothing more than a sharp tug, it’s back out again, twirling between Kiki’s long fingers. “Besides, it’s not like this is some family heirloom.”

“No,” Izana agrees, “but it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Okay, aside from Princess Kiki’s love for violence, which, by the way--” Obi tosses her a wink, which absolutely does not send a jolt of disappointment spear through Shirayuki’s belly-- “hot. It looks like our only lead are these bandits.”

Mitsuhide grunts. “We don’t know if they’re bandits.”

“Fine, Schrödinger’s bandits,” he sighs. “We don’t--what?”

The table is quiet, wide-eyed -- even Izana -- and into the silence, Zen says, “You know Schrödinger?”

Obi huffs. “What? I go to college. I know memes.”

“Wow,” Kiki manages, drawling every letter.

“Anyway.” Zen wields the word like a knife, trying to cut through the distractions. “We should track down these bandits--”

Mitsuhide clears his throat.

“Potential bandits,” Zen amends, annoyed. “So while Shirayuki is tending to the people here, we can start canvassing the area.”

“Oh!” It slips out of her, like a punch to the gut. If she’s back at the castle, and Beaumains is out looking for bandits --

She shakes her head. That’s not what this game is about. It’s about saving her sister and having fun with her friends, not -- not practice flirting.

Unfortunately, it’s too late to take it back. Every eye at the table falls on her, and she squirms. “Um.”

“That isn’t very fair,” Kiki observes, dragging her gaze to Zen. “Shirayuki should get a chance to have an adventure too, not just heal in the background.”

“But we can’t take her with us.”

She hadn’t even minded being left behind -- Izana would give her something to do, and it wasn’t as if Lynet would feel strongly about bandit chasing -- but it stings, hearing it from his mouth. Zen had wanted her to be Gwenhwyfar, to be the one waving the handkerchief from the parapets. Instead she’d made Lynet -- an alchemist, an arcanist, an asset -- but even still he’s finding ways to keep her at Camelot, leaving her behind when the knights rode out.

Mitsuhide grunts, disapproving.

“She’s using her highest slots to do this curse thing,” Zen explains, and she gets it, she does, it just doesn’t help. “If we find the Big Bad--”

“--We should probably have our healer with us.” Obi’s mouth cants into a lop-sided smile, cajoling. “Come on, my liege. We don’t have to jump in the deep end the second we get a hint of where this guy is. We have plenty of time to give my lady here a heads up before we get ourselves neck-deep in trouble.”

He winks, and -- and maybe she’s just projecting, but it feels different from the one he gave Kiki. More...personal.

“Um.” Now is really not the time to blurt out, I’m more upset that I can’t flirt with your character, so she just nods, ducking her head so he can’t see her blush. “Okay! But I’ll need a day to swap out my spells.”

He’s just -- adjusting, she knows that, but his foot swipes right along the bottom of hers and every hair stands on end. Oh, goodness. “We’ll see what we can do, my lady.”

Each day, more men awake from their stupors; three at a time, all of them disoriented, groggy. You had hoped that when you woke the healer, he would at least be able to ease your burden, but all the cursed are emaciated, their muscles atrophied to the point that they must be helped to the chamber pot and back. It is up to you to brew the potions, to cook the broth and, eventually, heartier stews to strengthen them.

And still there are more chores; small things: opening windows and keeping your stores stocked, organizing and documenting the treatment of your patients. Each day blends into each other, sleep only coming in fits and starts and never restful. Still, it is enough. You keep putting one foot in front of the other, hands doing what you ask of them, until --

Until one day they don’t.

Most of the men have not been moved from the great hall, though now, at least, there is room between them to walk, not just bodies laid haphazardly across the stone. It is not a situation you find ideal, however -- it is not feasible to move so many, and in their fugue state, few will care about privacy or proximity. However, those awoken few have been moved to more private chambers; the weft of the curse is thick, as fine a weave as any linen, and you suspect it does not allow any inference, either magic or mundane. Those who lay dreaming are free from any ailment save the caster’s making, but the others --

Well, that many men pressed so close is just tinder waiting for a kindling.

There is a way within Laxdo’s halls to reach the dormitories from the great hall, however, a quick dash through the courtyard’s arcades cuts minutes off a day that already has too few to spare. You hurry through, gaze set ever forward, laden with yet another heavy box of supplies.

Your mind is not on your day, of course. Oh no, it has long wandered far into stranger lands. The dwarf is what plagues your thoughts, for with every man that wakes, their eyes passing over him with barely more than a curious glance and no flash of recognition, he fades a little further. One day, you fear, you will turn to see he is little more than a shadow, a suggestion rather than a reality.

Whoever he is, he must be much changed. Perhaps he is knight, strong bodied and deep-voice; or perhaps he is truly only a boy, and --

Your heel catches, so hard that your teeth jitter in their sockets. It snaps your spine straight, feet staggering beneath you to balance both your weight and the box’s.

All for naught; the shock jolts like lightning through your limbs, and the moment you right yourself, the box slips from boneless fingers, straight to the stone below.

There is a moment where your life flashes before your eyes. Or at least, the last week, which has felt like a lifetime. On shivering fawn legs, you bend, touching each bottle and jar as if they were the saints’ bones themselves. It is not the first inventory you have done with your heart lodged in your throat, but it is certainly the one where you had the most to lose. After all, it wasn’t as if the people of Castle Perilous would rely on their young mistress alone.

Your breath huffs out on a sigh. Misfortune’s bony fingers have no hooks in your skirts today. Not one cracked jar or one broken seal.

You get to your feet, hauling the box into you arms, but -- but you are made suddenly and terrifying aware that you have not slept for days. The world swings in a mad carousel around you, and with the momentum of your lift and the weight of the box you tilt back --

But never hit the ground.

“Oh,” Zen groans, flopping back in his seat. “Come on. Really?”

“Oooh, master, you just wish you had moves like me.” Obi’s hips give a sultry swivel in his seat as he scoops up his natural twenty. It absolutely does not give Shirayuki any -- any ideas. The room is just unnaturally warm for a basement.

“Careful, smooth moves,” Kiki deadpans. “K-pop impressions and bad pick-up lines won’t save you from not investing in your health.”

Obi huffs out a laugh with one of his devil-may-care shrugs. “I don’t invest in nerd things like hit points, I invest in being cool, and I stand by that decision. Besides,” he says, pink flaring high on his cheeks, “my pick-up lines are great.”

“Name one that worked.”

“I dunno.” His shoulders hunch, defensive. “All of them.”

Kiki’s eyebrows lift. “On who?”

Me. Shirayuki catches the word in her teeth, swallowing it down. It’s not -- it’s not even true. Beaumains has been using them on Lynet, and Lynet is the one interested, not -- not her. They’re different people. Probably.

“You know.” He sniffs. “People. You don’t know them.”

If anything, Kiki’s brows only raise higher. “Hmm.”

“If we’re quite done speculating about Obi’s romantic prowess,” Izana interjects smoothly. “I do believe we’re in the middle of something?”

Heat blooms across your back, the way it would when you sat at the hearth, tilting a book so it might not lay in shadow. It smolders along your side, not like a bonfire, but a brazier, or even a bed warmer --

Ah, now there is a thought your father would not appreciate you having.

Your gaze is fixed to your supplies, but it takes you a long moment to realize you are not holding them. No, it is a steady hand over you, sheathed in black leather, and in one, delirious moment, you realize that bare indigo must be pressed into your back, hooking just so at your hip. He doesn’t even shake.

“Careful there, my lady.” The words rumble against your ear, too intimate in the cage of his chest. “Keep this up, and a man could get ideas.”

You lift your gaze, gold tangling with green, breath catching in your throat. He might have made a shoddy assassin, but as your protector, well --

“Do you think if it happens another time, you will believe it?”

He blinks, eyes as wide and gold as coins. “Believe what?”

With all the courage you can summon, you mimic his flirtatious smirk and say, “That I’m falling for you.”

If the birds still sang at Laxdo, then the air would not be so still, so silent. At it is, you could hear a pin drop, so long as it was louder than the throb of your heart.

In a single, staggering moment, you are back on your feet, and Beaumains shakes his head, hunching his shoulders against the cold. “You need to work on your delivery.”

Your jaw snaps shut. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not the flirting type, my lady.” He shrugs, a smirk peeking out from behind his cowl. “Too earnest, I think.”

Blood boils in your veins, and you know he can see it on your skin when you say, “It does not seem fair that you may make love as you wish, but yet I cannot.”

He huffs out a laugh, sweeping a step closer. Oh, he smells...nice. Leather and pine with a hint of brimstone. “You know what I have and you don’t, my lady?”

“What?” You wish it wasn’t so breathless.

He leans in, and unbidden, your eyes flutter to half-mast. “Charisma.”

“Wait.” Kiki snags his sheet, sliding it across the table. “How on earth is your charisma higher than your con?”

“I’m a rogue-sorcerer!” Obi squeaks, snatching it back. “It’s my casting stat.”

“This is ridiculous,” she decides. “Are you planning on using it any time soon?”

He gapes. “I use it all the time!”

“I mean besides for bad pick-up lines.”

“How do you think I snuck up on Shirayuki at all?” He waves his hands. “Obviously magic!”

“I mean...” Kiki shrugs. “There is a stealth stat for a reason. A good rogue wouldn’t need Invisibility--”

He sniffs. “There’s just no reasoning with you, Princess.”

“I thought you were supposed to be bandit hunting.” The words come out breathless, and you wish you were like Morgaine, who never sounds as if anything bothers her at all, instead of -- of this. A girl ripe to be teased, since she can never wear her heart anywhere but on her sleeve.

He looks out over the yard, eyes squinting into the distance, and it is a fine view for watching the smirk creep up the side of his face. “Seemed like my job was here, my lady.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, as suddenly and easily as if he had laid a hand over your heart. Still, you frown. “And you did not think to announce yourself?”

“You did well enough alone,” he tells you with a speculative glance, and the flash in his eyes makes you think he likes what he sees. That he is, perhaps, even a little impressed with you. “And anyway, it seemed like you understood well enough about hiding in plain sight.”

You do not miss the bite of censure in his words, the warmth spreading from your chest to your cheeks. He put space between you, but you close it as you say, “I am the only one who can do this work, I do not have the luxury of--”

“Peace, my lady.” He holds up his hands, as if he might ward you off like a bitch anxious over her pups. “I know well enough. Still...” He edges a step back, teeth flashing white against the dark of his face. “Should you not be wary of me?”

You stare, brows furrowed. “Wary? Has not Uther himself consigned me to your care?”

“That’s true enough,” he admits, hand raising to squeeze at his shoulder. An old injury must lay there, aggravated by the heavy weather. “Though I thought His Grace would fill your head with all sorts of things.”

“Things?”

“Speculations. Rumor.” He grins, sharp enough to cut, though it is not a blade faced outward. “Maybe even something close to the truth.”

“Beaumains.” You step closer, and he watches you now, not the quintain creaking in the distance. “I think my own thoughts, not those of Arturius. And I have never been wary of you.”

The arcade is so quiet, you can hear his breath rasp in his chest.

“Besides--” you let yourself share in some of his smile-- “I was the one who had you pinned.”

“My lady,” he protests, “I let you--”

“I think we can call this argument thoroughly explored,” Izana informs them. “Not that I do not enjoy the enthusiastic roleplay.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki chirps, hands clapping to cover her blush. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“No need.” You do not miss the twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips. “Besides, I think we all know it was your tanglefoot bag that did the pinning.”

“In any case,” you continue, perhaps a little forcefully, “you have proven yourself to be a man worthy of trust in my eyes.”

Beaumains stares, inscrutable. “My lady...”

Whatever words he means to say are lost; he folds his lips around them and the moment carries them away.

“My lady,” he tries again, more sure. “You’re wearing yourself down.”

“I am fine--”

“Perhaps His Grace--”

“I am fine,” you insist, sharper than you intend. “There is no reason to worry Arturius. So you might as well not.”

The silence between you itches, and when those golden eyes look at you, when they stare through you as if you were a specimen under glass, you want to squirm out of your own skin. “Who says I have to listen to anything you say?”

Uther. The name bubbles up, unbidden. You would have to be a fool to speak it; what passed between assassin and king is known by them alone. To pretend you know either of their minds would be a mistake of the rarest form.

Instead, you take a step forward, skirt brushing over the toes of his boots. “You owe me.”

His eyes narrow, thoughtful. “Owe you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “You do.”

He stares at you, and you know he remembers the same as you do: the botched assassination, him grabbing your wrists and pulling you under him, the way his skin had warmed so pleasantly against yours --

“Fine.” His gaze swivels away, chin turned so much your neck hurts just looking at it. “But...why keep it a secret, my lady?”

Teeth prick at your lips. You cannot just say, Arturius. Not when he has been so kind to you, when he has taken on this quest that no other would. But still, still -- you were barely allowed to come. If he were to know that you are weary, or weak, or, Father forfend, overwhelmed --

Well, you do not have to imagine what sort of behavior that might invite from His Grace.

“Because I can manage on my own,” you say instead, lifting the box from his hands.

Or at least, you would, if he would let go. “We’re only having this talk because you’re not managing, my lady.”

Ah, that is...a point. Your shoulders drop, grip loosening until it is once again only Beaumains that holds it. “I...”

“My lady?” You cannot meet his gaze, but you feel it on you, warm and inquisitive, perhaps even concerned.

“It’s only...”

He leans in. You can feet his heat against your skin.

“The dwarf,” you manage, a flush gathering at where your wimple meets your collar. “There’s something about him.”

“He’s short?” Beaumains offers, voice low, a pleasant rumble so close to you. “He’s cursed?”

Your mouth pulls thin. “That is not what a meant. However...” You shake your head, at a loss. “I only have this...this feeling. It is important that he be cured of his affliction. But...if he does not want to be saved before the others...”

Frustration tangles your tongue. If only you knew what words would convince him, what proof you needed to lay before him --

“Ah,” Beaumains sighs, mouth crooking into a grin. “Is that all?”

Izana blinks as his phone hoots at him, scanning the screen.

“Hm.” He sets it aside, laying it square on the table. “Obi, if you would come with me.”

Zen’s eyes narrow as they stand, gaze darting between them. “What are you doing?”

“Me and the big boss here have some business in hallway time,” Obi tells him with a grin even Shirayuki has to admit is insufferable. “Got a problem with it?”

He frowns. “Why do you need that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” With a waggle of his eyebrows, Obi skips around the corner of the stairs and is gone. The door above shuts with an almost jaunty click.

“Wha--?” Zen stares after him, sputtering. “That’s why I’m asking!”

It is quiet, for once. Only the moan of the wind outside and the scratch of your nib against parchment reach your ears, the crackle of the fire long faded into the background of your mind. It lulls you, the gentle sweep of your own hand, and you close your eyes -- just a blink --

Only to wake at the creak of your door.

“Lynet.”

You do not expect the prince to darken your door, not this late at night, but here he is, cloak dusted with snow, sword at his hip. He follows your gaze, and he seems shocked to find his blade there as well, as if he does not always keep it at his side.

“Arturius,” you say, rising to your feet. “I didn’t think to see you so late.”

“I needed to know something.” He sweeps a hand toward your bed. “Would you mind?”

You blink, and for a moment, he is a different man telling you to get to a bed, gaunleted hands reaching --

“Yes,” you gasp, shaking yourself. This is different. Arturius is a friend. You trust him. “Of course.”

Your legs dangle off the side of the bed, toes just brushing the floor, and he draws his chair up in front of you, holding your hand.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “I’m going to count.”

“Are you taking my pulse?” His fingers are not in the proper place for such a thing. At your wrist is truly--

“Please,” he laughs. “Just trust me.”

You do, and so your eyes flutter closed. For a moment, you are only aware of your breath, of his touch, and you --

Jolt awake, as the door flies open again.

“Beaumains!” Arturius snaps, dropping your hand as if it scalds. “What are you--?

It is only once he is in the room room that you can see -- there is someone behind him. A small someone.

The dwarf.

Beaumain’s smile stretches smugly from ear-to-ear. “Our friend here says he’ll do it.”

“What?” Zen squaws, glaring daggers at his brother before settling back on Obi. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” Obi grins, hooking his hands behind his head. “Get the job done?”

“Intimidate him!” He waves a hand vaguely towards the head of the table. “He’s our friend!”

Obi blinks. “Izana?”

“No, not -- I mean the dwarf!” He lets out a huff. “Izana is definitely not our friend.”

“Brother.” Izana presses a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

“You’re like Rasputin,” Zen tells him. “You’ll get over it.”

“I didn’t intimidate either of them.” Obi darts a glance at her, hooking her with a grin. “I just used my raw charisma.”

Kiki groans. “Go home.”

“Are you certain?” You glance at Beaumains behind him, but there is no menace to the man, just an unseemly amount of gloating. “I will not force you.”

The dwarf hesitates, wringing his small hands over his belly, but in the end he nods, meeting your gaze with a confidence that is wholly new. “I am ready, my lady.”

Your hand shakes as his fingers cup the rounded bottom of the flask, as he pulls the glass from your grasp, and with a deep, steeling sigh, upends the entirety of the potion into his throat.

“Oh!” The sound hiccups out of you, and though you’ve worn a groove in your voice the shape of the warnings you give each time, they tangle in your mouth. It is too late to say, drink slowly, to say, stop if it does not feel right, and oh, you are usual say this to a man prone, insensate --

And yet, nothing happens.

It takes time, you know. Your palms itch, eager to reach for your notes, to see if this was too long an interval, if this was a sign that this geas was worse, that the caster was fighting your remedy --

A muscle twitches. The dwarf blinks, raising his hand -- his hand that is now large, now small, that cannot decide its size at all, which is fine since his whole body follows suit, growing and shrinking. His shoulders rounds as his spine stretches, as if he’s hit a wall, some sort of barrier --

And it shatters, like an egg’s shell, his body growing well beyond its confines, the proportion of his limbs and face changing, until --

“Oh!” You whirl around, putting your back to him. “Oh my!”

“Ah,” the man says, his voice reedy, yet not as high as you remember. “I had hoped that this might be better done.”

“Here.” Arturius tosses one of the sheets from the cots. “Cover yourself.”

“I thank you,” the man says, humiliation riding high in his tone. “My lady, please forgive me, I did not think--”

“You...you are--” it is hard to find the words with your cheeks as hot as this -- “you are the lord of Laxdo’s son!”

He lets out a single, pained laugh. “I am afraid I am more than that now, my lady. I am Laxdo’s lord.”

“But--”

“Arturius!” Bedwyr sweeps into the room, ragged. “The men are all waking!”

“Wait, wait.” Shirayuki shakes her head, brow furrowed. “I removed his curse, and now everyone is healed?”

Izana lifts a hand in a lazy shrug. “So it would seem.”

“But...but...” She swivels, fixing on him. “But he didn’t want to be turned back! He wouldn’t let us, not until--” Shirayuki stops, her brain rushing to put the pieces together. “That was part of the compulsion. He wouldn’t let the curse be broken so that we -- so that I--”

She groans. “We could have done this in a day.”

“Welcome to Izanafinder,” Kiki deadpans. “He may not kill you, but he will make you wish you were dead.”

“My name is Shuuka,” the man says, better settled with the sheet around his hips. You still keep finding the wall just over his left shoulder fascinating. If only Bedwyr would be faster at locating the young lord’s costume. “I must admit, I had hoped you might remember it, my lady.”

You grimace. “I am...very bad with names. My father often despaired of it.”

And as in all his wishes, it bore very little fruit. 

“I think I remember that.” He laughs, weary. “It is no matter. I am in your debt regardless.”

“Pray, do not think on it,” you tell him, even as Arturius grunts. “I would not have a soul beholden to me.”

You do not miss Beaumain’s cough, nor the amused way he watches you from the door. Doubtlessly, he would find time to say his piece on that, but it will not be now.

“But, my lady--”

“What would help us most would be if you told us what happened,” Arturius says, oddly strangled. “Since you are the only one that seems to remember.”

Shuuka blinks, as if he had forgotten his prince sat mere steps away. “Of course. I shall explain it all to you.”

“That would be--”

“But first.” He slips his hand around yours, smiling shyly. “We must celebrate how you have saved us.”

“Oh,” you breathe, gaze flying to Arturius. A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I do not think--”

“Please, give me this,” Shuuka insists. “A banquet in your honor.”

You do not look at him, but you can feel Beaumain’s grin as a palpable touch. “Truly, it is not necessary. It was all of us who--”

“Ah yes, then in all your honor!” He squeezes your hand, and gives you a boyish smile that sends you straight back to girlhood. “All the men have been healed, and it would do them good to have a night of merriment.”

You cannot refute it would raise morale. Which would be much needed, once they took in the state of Laxdo’s disrepair. “I suppose...”

He leaps to his feet, thankfully taking the sheet with him. “Then a banquet it is!”

Shirayuki buries her face in her hands. “Oh my.”

“Oooh,” Obi croons. “Looks like you got some competition, my liege.”

Zen frowns. “Oh, shut up.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #Dungeons & Dragons AU #my fic #ans #for all of you that were hoping for flirting #YOU NOW HAVE THIS #also please enjoy 6.5K of this because THERE WAS NO GOOD PLACE TO STOP #I keep hoping this arc will wrap up so i get get to SOME STUFF but NOPE #can't possibly shut up XD