#'he wishes he were like Joseph. he wishes he could step into a room and have everyone love him immediately.' not realizing that these...

[isfjmel-phleg]

(I tried to put this in the tags but it wouldn't let me. Thank you for this latest chapter! I look forward to the completed story whenever you're able to get to it. And I'm sorry that writing this has to take you to such a difficult place, and I understand completely if you choose not to proceed with the next part, but please know that this story has meant a lot to me, and I'm very grateful that you are writing it.)

49: The Party

part one | previous | next | masterlist | ao3 version

instead of the first few paragraphs of this chapter going before the readmore button, I'm going to put a longer author's note. I hope you'll forgive the break from habit.

So, Strange Redemption matters to me a lot. I'm sorry about the often months-long breaks between chapters and grateful that many of you who've been here since updates were weekly have kept coming back. <333

In regards to future plans, I've noticed that it's easier to write Strange Redemption when I'm at low points personally. Easier to tap into Thad's headspace that way. Concern about that plus a healthier headspace plus the increased workload of my final year of college was what caused me to slow way down on writing and posting the story. Now that I have some breathing room in my life again, I've made the decision that I'm definitely going to finish at least the first half of my planned two halves of Strange Redemption. We're so close to the end of Thad's solo run!! We're almost there with him! I can hang in there until the end of this next story arc, which will conclude most of the story pretty well, in my opinion.

The second half of Strange Redemption I had all planned out to explore more original characters (some of you will know what I'm talking about—my darling clones Three through Ten). I honestly don't know if I'll write that half soon or at all, so I guess we'll find that out together! I have some great ideas for the hypothetical second half, if I do say so myself, but I'm restraining myself firmly from making ANY promises about it.

Thanks again! Back to the story!

Thad went to bed yesterday with vague fear lashing around in his head like wrestling metahumans, and he wakes up with the bones of that fear nestled in a lump in the back of his brain. He feels a plan forming. He lets it rest, that little lump of inspiration born of fear. Thaddeus knows how this goes.

He makes plans, because he’s a clone, because he was made to make plans. He ruins things because he was made to ruin things. He recognizes his own pattern.

In about a day, it’ll come to him. The Plan. The new Perfect Plan to dissect with CRAYDL.

Only this time, Thaddeus isn’t sure what the plan will be for. 

It’s something about what he realized yesterday: that he should be afraid, and he isn’t. Something about that thing he found out on the computer at the library weeks ago: that being struck by lightning can change your personality. Something about how terrifying it was to forget his new name when he was talking to the maid, and to realize how flimsy, how fake it sounded in his mouth, Sophos Thaddeus Anacletus Free. It felt like nothing. Less than nothing, less than calling himself Bart.

Something… about that. Thad stares at himself brushing his teeth in the mirror and lets the lump of soon-to-be-Plan grow, shift. The imaginary form of the Plan feels more real than his body.

Thad puts on a green plaid shirt with hands that don’t feel anything. It’s reassuringly familiar, this sense of removal. It’s a relief not to feel like a person for a while. He can sense victory in the distance, and with victory so close, secondary things like his physical body don’t actually matter.

Joseph comments on Thad’s preoccupation at breakfast. He points at Thad and raises his eyebrows—a question without content, just what’s with you?

And if Thad was with CRAYDL, he would have smiled wickedly and said Wait and see… and CRAYDL would have said aww, Boss! And Thad would have laughed and ignored it and CRAYDL would have cajoled until Thad divulged Yes, I'm thinking up a new plan. I’m not telling you yet… I’m still working on it… I think it’ll be good, though… really good…

He comes back to the present moment and shrugs. “Just something.”

Joseph looks at him, waiting. Takes another bite of pancake.

It would be so easy to tell him. Just like CRAYDL. But—

But Joseph isn’t CRAYDL, and why does Thad feel so safe, anyway? A lightning strike can change your personality. The lump of fear twists, and Thad swallows and shrugs again.

“Clone… stuff, I think,” he lies. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The instant compassion on Joseph’s face is too much. Thad drops his fork and buries his face in his hands, suddenly overwhelmed.

He hates using “clone issues” as an excuse, he decides. It brings too much to the surface—things he’d rather stay down in the depths of him. His face is hot behind his hands, long lashes just like Bart’s brushing the palms of his Thawne hands.

Yeah, no. He’s not doing that again unless he has to.

Mortified for no good reason, he picks up the fork in his fist and starts eating again, avoiding looking straight at Joseph.

They finish breakfast in silence. Thad wishes Joseph would ask him again. Then he remembers he absolutely should not feel this safe around Joseph. Then he wishes it again, childish, selfish. He wants to be understood.

But they have ground rules, and one of Thad’s ground rules for Joseph was not to make Thad talk about being a clone. So Joseph doesn’t ask Thad anything else, although Thad sees his sea-green eyes tracking Thad anxiously.

Thad gulps down the rest of his breakfast and dumps his dishes in the sink with numb hands.

Thad spends the afternoon in his Plum room, drawing, unhurriedly putting his thoughts together into the beginning of a plan, and spacing out. He’s not sure how much he’s dissociating, but he thinks it’s a lot. The sun moves on the floor when he’s not looking and he finds himself stiff and sore from laying in the same position and has to move, wincing, to wake up his muscles and ease the pressed points of his bones.

In the evening, the guests arrive in ones and twos to Joseph’s party. Some fly, some are carried, others drive up the driveway. Changeling—or Beast Boy, Thad doesn’t know how the timeline has progressed this time—arrives as a cheetah. Thad watches from his tower window, scoping out the situation. His brain kicks into gear again, and he’s grateful for it. He needs not to be spacing out and losing time quite so much right now.

A little later, Joseph comes to get him. Thad pushes the scraps of plans even further back into his mind and smiles and nods and follows him downstairs.

Before they enter the study, Joseph stops Thad walking with a gesture. Thad stops and waits, looking at Joseph’s fuzzy green velvet vest instead of his face.

But Joseph’s hands don’t move in speech. The man clasps his hands against his chest, a strangely nervous gesture. Surprised, Thad looks at Joseph’s face. He looks worried.

Thad flinches. Worried—Joseph is worried about introducing Thad to his friends? Oh. Thad breaks eye contact, looks at the wall for a moment, then forces his eyes back to Joseph’s hands with all his strength.

Joseph signs, “Are you nervous?”

Thad shakes his head.

Joseph tilts his head at him, but Thad is already committed to the lie.

“OK,” Joseph signs. Then he puts his hands to his heart and smiles at Thad, crinkling up his eyes. “They’ll love you.”

Thad doubts it, but whatever. He finds himself smiling back at Joseph, charmed and amused by the hyperbole.

Quietly, so as not to be heard inside the room, Thad asks, “You introduce a lot of supervillains to your friends?”

“Lots and lots,” Joseph signs, grinning.

Thad rolls his eyes, making Joseph huff out a soft amused breath. “Whatever. Fine, let’s go.”

Thad slows time as he steps around the corner of the propped-open door to the study. It looks like the people here are comfortable, for the most part. Wonder Woman is standing at the window with her husband and the Gotham vigilante Nightwing. Nightwing is nothing to worry about for a speedster who knows what he’s doing, but Wonder Woman is a bigger threat. Danny Chase is cross-legged in an armchair, talking to Starfire, who’s sitting in midair in front of him. Neither of them is a threat, although Danny Chase’s intellect might be annoying to deal with. Cyborg is currently wrestling playfully with Changeling. Changeling is below Thad’s notice, no threat at all; Cyborg’s sonic capacities are to be steered clear from, even for Inertia. Raven—

Raven. Thad’s attention narrows immediately as he spots her, leaning comfortably on the back of an armchair. She’s already looking in his direction.

He pulls time to as near a halt as he can.

What will Raven think of him? What will she say? She reads minds, she’ll know about the Plan, she’ll know he’s lying to Joseph. The only possible hope here is that Thaddeus himself doesn’t fully know what he’s planning. Despite the immediate idea of pretending the Plan is something entirely innocent, an immediate image of Joseph bleeding out jumps to the front of Thad’s mind. No—no! He has to get a hold of himself. He’s not planning anything like that. Never. He’d never hurt Joseph Wilson. No more than he’d hurt Max, or Helen.

Maybe Thad is more nervous to meet Joseph’s friends than he thought.

Well, Thad wasn’t Inertia for nothing. He’s smart. He can do this. All he has to do is survive the introductions.

He lets time speed up again and steps into the room. Raven says nothing, just raises her hand and waves at him and Joseph.

Nightwing notices them enter a moment after Raven waves. He calls, “Joey!”

Everyone pauses their activities and looks over. Thad freezes, but none of them are looking at him in this instant. Every face in the room beams to see Joseph Wilson. They love him, Thad realizes with a shock.

They really love their “Joey”.

The old jealous void in Thad’s chest roars to life. He wishes he was like Joseph. He wishes he could step into a room and have everyone love him immediately.

Joseph’s hand comes down on Thad’s shoulder. It’s warm and settling. The void clutches at the sensation of physical touch, then settles down again. Thad feels it thrumming in him, a current of safety and surety tied to Joseph that the speed force put into him like pouring electricity into a wire.

Joseph lifts his hand. Thad clings to the memory of the touch.

“This is my kid, Thad,” Joseph signs.

Thad looks quickly out at the room to see their reactions.

Joseph’s friends nod and smile. A few of them—Starfire, Nightwing, Changeling—say “Hello” in cheerful tones of voice. Danny Chase raises an eyebrow. Raven smiles.

Thad doesn’t know what to say in this situation. The urge to chirp “Hi!” like Bart would occurs to him and he squashes that impulse with extreme prejudice. Instead, he adds some more identifying information.

“I used to be Inertia,” he says.

“Yeah, we heard,” Danny Chase says, bluntly but not unkindly.

Thad shrugs at him. “Redundant information never hurts.”

“It does if it’s boring.”

“Oh, stop, Danny,” Starfire laughs. “Just because you’re bored doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

Danny snaps back, and conversation starts again all over the study. That’s it, then? That was the introduction?

Joseph gestures Thad to go further into the room. Thad takes a few steps forward and stops, unsure where to go. Raven, watching him, makes a come here gesture.

Thad obeys, because not going will just make this worse. At least Raven is alone, and at least he’s familiar with her, more familiar than with the other people here, anyway. “Better the devil you know”, as they say in this century.

Joseph’s quiet, bright presence behind him soothes Thad’s worst fears. It’s like having CRAYDL looming there. Support. Someone here who likes him. Trusts him.

“I’m sorry you’re afraid of me,” Raven says softly.

Thad grits his teeth. He hates interacting with a mind reader. He can’t argue with that.

“I’m fine.”

“I know,” Raven says. “Don’t worry about me, Thaddeus. I’m not going to say anything about you.”

Really? What about the Plan?

“Really?”

“Nothing at all. I promise,” Raven says. She unfurls herself from the back of the armchair and holds out a long, black-nailed hand.

Thaddeus shakes her hand firmly before she can take it back.

Then he smiles. Maybe this party will be survivable, after all.

[diejager]

How would each of the monster 141 react if hunter were like- straight up killed in front of them. Like no wiggle room “oh they might be alive and just unconscious” but just straight up dead. Sorry I am a sucker for angst and I feel like this would be a fantastic read considering how bonded and feral they all are to protect hunter. Thanks in advance! Love the blog! Keep it up 👍

Are you trying to get me killed? Do you want me to have a heartattack?

End of the line Cw: death, suicidal thoughts, angst, mention of suicide, blood, injury, tell me if I missed any.

It had been a mistake, a costly one, but still a mistake. In that moment, everything had lost its point, the mission, the goal, the enemy and the celebration were pointless, forgettable. Time slowed, lagging behind in minutes when the shot rang out, booming in your restless minds until all they could hear was a loud thump, a body slumping down.

It was a rookie mistake made by their eagerness to return home, bodies bruised from the last deployment and still sore, skin painted in black and purple, but you pushed on, being sent from one end of the planet to the other. They were hanging on a thin thread of perseverance and training, practiced to live on perpetual soreness and exhaustion.

But that didn’t ease the pain, the open wound in their hearts. They watched you slump over, blood pooling from the wound in your chest —shot center mass. They dropped everything, Rudy rushing to turn you over, hands shaky and eyes blurry, he choked down a sob and a tear slid down his cheek. You were unresponsive, eyes glazed and dull, the light that they all loved gone in a breath. You upper torso bled, a bullet pierced through your kevlar vest, the bullet’s calibre higher than anything they expected.

Ghost joined Rudy, desperate to see if there were a chance to resuscitate you, to bring you back to them. His hands were frantic, tremors wracking his whole body as he loomed forward, trying to find a pulse, hand pressing against your still warm throat. He felt his fears surging forward, the dark voice at the back of his mind grinding out words, terrors that followed him at every step. It was like the last Christmas, when Tommy and Beth died, when Joseph and his mom were shot, when the people he cared for were killed.

Ghost felt his voice leave him, croaky and dying, it made him unable to utter a single word, and so was Rudy, mind blank. So Alejandro was the one to tell the verdict, but they hadn’t needed him to tell them to know. Soap, König and Horangi heard your heart stop, the powerful muscle in your chest explode from the bullet and grow silent. The pain clawed at their hearts, the overbearing weight on their chest made their retreat harder.

However much Price wanted to cry, to fall to his knees as cradle your body against his chest, he was the TF’s leader, he had to bring the rest of them back home. He ordered Gaz back from his perch for the sniper after he dealt with it, Gaz’s advanced sight catching the glint of the scope. Holding the title of a Task Force’s captain meant a lot, it placed a certain amount of responsibility on his shoulder and he couldn’t let his men down. Price could let a few tears slip, but he had to hold it in until he had a moment to himself in the silence of his office.

Gaz was silent during and afterwards, watching your limp body being carried in König’s arms until you reached the aircraft piloted by Nikolai who shared an equally heartbroken and saddened expression as them. His voice died with you, unable to voice his mind or his sorrows, confining himself to his room in silence. Although he lost himself, he had the others to bring him back like you did when Ghost wandered too deeply into his mind, bringing back up memories.

Soap did what he knew best, throwing himself into the fray, overworking himself with solo mission and spearheading other joint work. He almost worked himself to the bone until Horangi pulled him back, scuffing him and beating your wishes into his mind, telling him that you wouldn’t want them to break away like this, to wither away as if they were never here.

Despite helping Soap, Horangi suffered the same as the werewolf did, silently crying himself to sleep, fingers clawing at his head in desperation to quiet down the loud screeches in his mind, degrading words thrown at himself for failing you. He knew you didn’t want him to hate himself, but how could he quell the bleeding wound in his heart when you weren’t here to ease the pain away? The memory of you did.

Alejandro tried his best, acting and trying to feel better until it ultimately failed, he wasn’t in the right place to see you nor talk about you to others, murmuring your name when he slept and woke up with a start. He wasn’t as lost as Ghost was, didn’t shut the world around him down and closed in on himself, but he was following closely behind if he didn’t have the Task Force.

Rudy was the most human out of them, he felt more strongly but couldn’t cry. His mind was blank, the beat in his chest loud and erratic, yet his mind was silent, a ground of deathly quiet. He couldn’t do anything, work became hard, waking up exhausting, and taking care of himself harrowingly difficult. You’d scold him if you saw how he was behaving, how little care he had for himself —to near hunger and insanity. He hung onto your words, your confession, the three words you gave them as a parting gift, that’s what forced him out of his shell.

While the rest worked through their pain, to reach a stalemate together, none fell as hard as Ghost and König, both having a difficult childhood and a harder time following their enlistment. The lost themselves easily, becoming much more violent and deranged in their kills, ripping men in half and swallowing them whole, leaving all but a puddle of blood behind. The only thing that stopped them from ending their pain, to reaching out towards the knife that hung on the side of their thighs were your words, the handwritten words on your will and a message for everyone.

You wanted them to live, to be happy without you being there and that you’d be waiting for them on the other side until eternity. You were patient after all. At least a part of you hung from their necks, your ashes shared between the eight men and your items spread equally.

“I love you.”

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

[succubusmelt]

Ok, since my birthday is coming up, (I’m turning 19 on the 20th! :D) can we have a fanfic about all the yanderes like Jack/Joseph, Peter Dunbar, Alan Orion, and John Doe planning a surprise birthday for them? Like the MC had forgotten that their birthday is coming up so the yanderes plan out a small little surprise like a date at anyplace. It could be at a park, home, movie, theme park, restaurant, ANYWHERE!

Thank you!! Here’s some tea for you 😌☕️

Tk for the tea! :) and happy birthday~

SUNNYDAY JACK!

That morning, you awoke and began your daily routine as usual. You wandered into the kitchen half asleep, unaware that today was in fact your birthday.

Jack, the cheerful phantom clown who only you could see, had been planning a surprise for weeks. As you entered the kitchen, Jack jumped out from behind the counter shouting "Happy birthday!" while throwing confetti.

You looked at him confused. "It's not my birthday Jack."

Jack laughed. "Silly goose, of course it is! I've had this date marked for months."

You checked your phone and saw to your surprise that it was indeed your birthday. You had completely forgotten.

"Huh, would you look at that. I totally forgot it was my birthday today," you chuckled.

Jack beamed. "Well then, good thing I didn't forget! I've made your favorite chocolate chip pancakes and have a special birthday cupcake waiting."

You smiled at Jack's thoughtfulness. "Aww Jack, you didn't have to do all this."

"Nonsense!" said Jack. "Your birthday is important, we must celebrate!"

You sat down at the small kitchen table as Jack served you a stack of fluffy pancakes and a cup of coffee.

Jack then brought over a lit candle stuck in a cupcake, singing the birthday song at the top of his lungs. You couldn't help but chuckle at Jack's enthusiastic yet slightly off-key singing.

You blew out the candle and made a wish. The two of you spent the morning chatting and laughing over breakfast.

You were grateful to have Jack to help make your birthday feel special in his own unique way.

"Thank you, Jack, you're the best person I could ask for today," you said sincerely.

Jack beamed. "Anything for you, sunshine!" he replied. "Now, how about some movies and maybe cuddle in the sofa?"

"Sounds perfect," you laughed.

JOHN DOE!

You awoke to the shrill beeping of your alarm, hitting snooze and rolling over with a groan. Just another day, or so you thought. Downstairs, John was already wide awake, a manic glint in his yellow eyes. Today was special - it was your birthday! And John wouldn't let you forget it, oh no. He had big plans to make this the best birthday ever, because the subject of birthdays has always seemed curious to him. So he probably spent a lot of time looking at them and analyzing them on TV.

This was going to be the perfect day! He giggled to himself as he troed to hung streamers and balloons all around the house. Into the kitchen next, whipping up a towering (burned) cake. He just loved, loved, loved crafts!

But something was missing…presents! John had searched far and wide for the perfect gifts, each one specially selected to make you smile. Something colorful and full of confetti, meaty and squishy covers most of the furniture in your house and seems to be something sticky. Anyone else would be grossed out, but you were used to it, and somehow it seemed… cute. Even Doe took it upon himself to put a bow on the slimy stuff.

Glancing at the clock, John realized you would be waking up soon. As he heard your footsteps coming down the stairs, he darkened the room and hid behind the sofa, barely able to contain his excitement.

"SURPRISE!" he shouted, leaping out with a flourish as you stepped into the living room. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! I planned a whole party just for you!" You were stunned, having co

mpletely forgotten it was even your birthday. Taking in the decorations, the gross slime in your houses that John had prepared, you were overwhelmed by the effort. "I made this cake myself, 3 whole layers of chocolatey goodness, your favorite!" John exclaimed, wheeling out the mammoth confection. His grin stretched impossibly wide as he waved his arms with flourish like a gameshow host revealing a prize. Before you could even process this surprise, he grabbed your hand and pulled you along. He bounced on his toes and spoke a mile a minute, barely pausing for breath in his exhilaration.

"I just love, love, LOVE birthdays! The presents, the games, the candy, the fun! But most of all I love YOU!" He threw his wiry arms around you in an enthusiastic hug before darting off again.

Despite the shock of it all, you couldn't help but smile at his childlike joy and excitement to celebrate your birthday. No one had ever gone to such lengths for you before. As the day went on, John made sure you were having the time of your life. He even popped out of the massive cake, sending frosting flying everywhere, but laughing all the while.

"This is the best birthday I've ever had!" he declared, licking buttercream off his fingers. You had to admit, it was pretty unforgettable. No one else would or could have done all this for you. Finally, the sugar crash was setting in. As the sun set outside, you and John snuggled up on the couch together, you nestled against his chest. He smiled down at you, his expression softening.

"Did you have a fun day?" he asked, twirling a lock of your hair idly around his slender finger. You nodded, still basking in the glow of the day's events. No matter what misadventures tomorrow might bring, you would always remember the time and love John put into this special day, just for you.

ALAN ORION!

You woke up like any other day, oblivious that this particular day marked another year of your life. As you went through your morning routine, there was no indication that today was special. No one called to wish you a happy birthday, no gifts waiting for you when you went downstairs. For you, it seemed like just another ordinary day.

But someone did remember. Hidden among the trees of the forest you often visited, Alan had been preparing. For weeks he had been planning something special, eager to celebrate your birthday in his own unique way.

The night before, under the cover of darkness, he had snuck into your home while you slept. Confirming the date in your calendar, he grinned in anticipation. You had no idea what he had in store for you. After watching you for a bit, he slipped back out and returned to the forest.

Today, Alan was up before the sun, too excited to sleep. He spent the early hours tidying up his little clearing in the woods, decorating it with wildflowers and vines. He prepared all your favorite foods, packing a basket with sweet treats to share. His gifts for you were handmade trinkets wrapped in simple brown paper and tied off with twine.

Alan could hardly wait for you to arrive. He paced around, checking and rechecking everything. He wanted it to be perfect for you. Finally deciding he was ready, he grabbed his axe and headed out to the woods to gather more firewood. He hoped to lead you back just at the right moment.

As Alan chopped wood, you began your walk through the forest trail. Breathing in the fresh air, you slowly wandered along, enjoying the peace of nature. You hadn't gotten far when Alan appeared, as if out of nowhere, right on the path in front of you.

"Well, hey there, doe-eyes! Fancy running into you!" He greeted you cheerfully. Taking your hand, he guided you off the trail towards his secluded clearing.

You gave him a puzzled look, uncertain why he was acting so excited today. But you followed along, trusting him completely.

Reaching the clearing, Alan led you into the little area. "I have a surprise for you…"

Stepping forward, you gasped in awe. The cozy space was filled with wildflowers, sweet aromas, and decorations just for you. In the center sat a small cake with lit candles. You turned to Alan in shock.

"Happy birthday!" He shouted, pulling you into a warm embrace. "I wanted to celebrate you today. Make this day special. Do you like it?"

You were utterly surprised, touched by the thoughtfulness of it all. You had completely forgotten your own birthday, but Alan had remembered. He knew this date was important to you and wanted to make you feel loved.

Taking your hand, he led you around the clearing, showing you all he had prepared. The food, the handmade gifts, every detail was just for you. No one had ever done anything so thoughtful.

As the sun began to set, you found yourself slow dancing with Alan in the candlelight. His arms wrapped protectively around you as he hummed a sweet melody. This woodland birthday party turned out to be the most memorable one yet thanks to your dear Alan.

PETER DUNBAR!

Today is your birthday, though it's far from your mind when your alarm jolts you awake this morning. You silenced it and started your usual morning routine - shower, breakfast, quick scroll through your phone. The date doesn't even register.

Meanwhile, Peter has been giddy with excitement for weeks leading up to this day. He knows everything about you, including your birthday, and wants to make it extraordinarily special.

You're just about to head out the door for work when you hear the doorbell ring. You open it to find a delivery man with a massive bouquet of roses in every color - red, pink, yellow, white. "Special delivery for your birthday!" he announces cheerfully. Birthday? Oh right, it's your birthday! You had completely forgotten. What a wonderful surprise, you think, as you take the flowers and find the card from Peter.

After stopping to put the roses in water, you rush off to work, not wanting to be late. When you arrive at your desk, you find a perfectly wrapped gift waiting for you. Opening it up reveals a set of expensive bath oils and lotions in your favorite scents - peach, mango, coconut. "A special treat for your special day! Enjoy! Love, Peter" the note attached says. These will be so lovely to use after a long day, you think, touched by his thoughtfulness.

Leaving work that evening, exhausted after a long day, you find one last surprise waiting for you. When you enter your apartment, the lights are off, which is odd. Suddenly, they flip on, and Peter jumps out from hiding shouting "Surprise!" The living room is decorated with balloons and streamers. Your dining table is spread with your favorite foods. In the center is an enormous bouquet of vibrant flowers.

Peter runs up and embraces you. "Happy birthday, darling! I wanted to make this day so special for you." You beam, tears pricking your eyes. You can't believe he put all of this together for you.

"I totally forgot it was even my birthday!" you say with a laugh. "This is incredible, Peter. Thank you so much for everything - the flowers, gifts... It's too much. I'm overwhelmed by your generosity and thoughtfulness."

Peter is thrilled to see you so delighted. "You deserve to feel loved and celebrated on your birthday. I'd do anything to see your beautiful smile," he says, gazing at you adoringly.

You give him a tender kiss, touched by how well he knows you and the immense effort he put into orchestrating thoughtful surprises to brighten your day. While Peter may go overboard with his intensity sometimes, today it comes from a place of pure love and devotion.

Despite your chaotic schedule, Peter made sure your birthday did not go uncelebrated. Thanks to him, you feel so special and cared for on this day. You blow out the candles on your cake together, share a delicious meal, and end the night dancing in the living room - the perfect birthday thanks to Peter's selfless attention to detail and desire to see you smile.

[sweetprfct]

Is It Over Now?

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fake dating your flatmate, Joe, should be a simple thing. It meant you get to help get his ex back, and it meant you get to stop your parents' nagging about bringing someone home for once. But what happens when fake dating turns into something unexpected? Now, what?

Author's Note: Here's the end! Thank you all for the support in this story. It's honestly one of my favorites. Anyway, see you all soon with Midnight Rain! I will be planning that out first then I'll be back with a new series soon! Enjoy! :)

Wordcount: 2.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

The soft breeze blew through your hair as you watched the city of London slowly come alive in front of you. You pulled your jacket closer to your chest as you watched the sunrise reflected through the windows of the tall buildings in front of you. Cars and buses filling the roads and people walking down the streets to their jobs or whatever their destination was. The sound of Elena whispering to herself as she played with her toys in the living room made you smile as you looked over your shoulder and watched her. 

You hoped one day this little girl would grow up and keep the happiness that lit inside her. You hoped that she was able to face whatever fears she had inside of her, and she was able to find love that she deserved. If it was up to you, you would wish she never grows up because this world could be cruel, and it slowly breaks you. 

Your eyes then darted towards Abby and Sara, who were cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Watching Abby feeding Sara with a piece of waffle and then kissing each other on the lips like they were just in their own little world, you couldn’t help but smile. You knew that no matter what, Elena had great parents that would be by her side through everything. You couldn’t help but wish that you had the same thing growing up, but you couldn’t dwell too much on the past now. You couldn’t blame your parents anymore. You could change your own perspective and life. You could change it and make it with whatever you wanted it to be. 

You didn’t know what time you had sneaked out of your flat earlier this morning, but it definitely was too early. It was still dark outside, and the streets were empty and quiet except for the early morning people who decided to wake up and go for a jog.

You have been walking. You didn’t know how long, but you had been walking and thinking. Thinking about what happened last night. Thinking about Joe and those three little words that he had told you. Thinking about his lips on your skin and how it electrified your veins with every kiss he left on your body. How it made you die and brought you back to life at the same time. You thought about how you wanted him, and you loved him but you were too terrified to admit it yourself. 

You just needed some space. You needed some time to think. You weren’t running away this time. You just need to think, so eventually, you found yourself at Sara and Abby’s by the time it was 7am. You didn’t even ride the tube. You walked so much that you had found yourself on the other side of the city, and you didn’t even realize until you were standing on their front steps. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologized to them again.

At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if Sara and Abby kicked you out of their home for disturbing them so much. They already were too busy with Elena and here you were like a little lost puppy and dumping your problems on them. 

“Hey,” Sara smiled. “I was just about to make breakfast before Abby leaves for work. Come in.” 

Sara opened the front door wider to let you in. Elena, for some reason, was wide awake early in the morning. Sara mentioned how she had been waking up early because she wanted to say goodbye to Abby every morning before work. You couldn’t help but think how cute it was. They truly were such a cute family. 

Now, here you were standing on their balcony, trying to figure out all the emotions that were running inside you. You were trying to scold yourself to stop being so afraid and finally just let all of these fears go. 

“Hey, wanna join us for breakfast?” Sara came up behind you with a cup of tea. 

“Yeah, thank you.” You smiled as she handed you the cup of tea, and you followed her into the dining room. 

“I’m sorry for barging in again. I just… I need to think.”

“There’s nothing to think about, my sweet.” Abby chimed in as she sat on the dining table with you and Sara.

She was in her white shirt, jeans and cardigan. It fit her whole artist vibe, and you couldn’t help but notice how her and Sara were glowing even more lately ever since Elena has entered their life. 

“You love him.” Abby said sternly. “Please stop dismissing it. Let yourself be happy.”

You bit your lower lip as you took a sip of your tea. Your eyes shifted at Sara, who was slicing through her waffles with a playful smile on her face.

“What’s so funny?” You asked.

“You reek of sex.” Sara murmured, taking a bite of her waffle.

Your eyes widened the moment you felt the tea burned through your nose as you choked and coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You just wanted the floor to eat you up at this point. 

“Babe!” Abby laughed, shaking her head. 

“Look at her!” Sara pointed her fork at you as her eyes widened at Abby. “They had sex and now, she is denying the fact that she’s actually in love with Joe. This isn’t just pretending anymore. She has been in love with him for a while now, and she thought hooking up with him would make those feelings go away but no—”

“Okay, I think I get it.” You sighed, slumping back down on your chair.

“Do you?” Sara raised her brow. 

You sat quietly in your chair, your head hung low as you thought about Sara’s question. You knew she was right, but it was the acceptance of your feelings that you couldn’t bear to accept in your mind. Your heart was screaming for it. Screaming to love Joe. Screaming to stop being so terrified because you were already here. You already had shown him your feelings last night, so what the fuck was your problem? 

“What are you so afraid of? Joe loves you.” Abby added. 

“I know.” You sighed. “I do too.”

It was the first time you admitted it out loud. Suddenly, the fear had subsided and all you could think about was Joe. His smile, his chocolate button eyes, his voice, his lips on your skin. 

It was everything.

He was everything.

“Then, go get him.” Sara had a wicked smile on her face as you chuckled softly. 

“I’m sorry for being such a pain lately and just barging in here.” You sighed. “I know you two got your hands busy with Elena too and—”

“My sweet, there’s no need to apologize.” Abby cut you off. “You’re always welcome here and besides, we know how hard it is for you to sometimes accept your feelings, especially with what you have gone through before. It’s understandable.”

“Exactly.” Sara smiled, reaching for your hand across the table. “You’re our family too, and you’re always welcome here. We just want you to be happy too because you deserve it.”

“And if that’s with Joe then, you shouldn’t stop yourself from being happy and loved by him.” Abby added. 

“Thank you.” You both gave them a smile, squeezing Sara’s hand softly. “And you know, I’m always one call away if you both need anything.”

Sara and Abby smiled, nodding their heads. 

The thought of seeing Joe as you sat on the tube later that day had let out a jar of butterflies in your stomach. You didn’t exactly know how to start or what to say to him the moment you would enter the flat. You kept telling yourself that you would just wing it. That whatever the situation was, you definitely needed to apologize for running out again. For being so confused and terrified about all of this. 

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair as you stepped out of the tube and made your way back to your flat. You wondered if Joe was home. You wondered what he would say the moment you entered the flat. You wondered if you fucked everything up, and he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You couldn’t blame him if that was his decision. 

Unlocking the front door with a shaky hand, you immediately heard a quiet clattering coming from the kitchen. 

Joe was home.

Kicking your shoes off your feet, you quietly made your way to the kitchen and stood by the doorway. Joe’s back was turned to you as he cooked pasta on the stove. You leaned against the doorway and watched him for a moment, playing with your fingers nervously. 

“Came to get the rest of your things?” Joe asked, his voice was cold and his back was still turned to you. 

So, he was upset. 

You expected that. Who wouldn’t be upset with someone who ran out the next morning after you had told them that you love them?

“N..N…No.” You replied.

Oh, you hated how that came out of your mouth. 

You were stuttering, and you could barely find your voice at the moment. You slowly walked around the kitchen island and stood next to Joe. Your hands were literally trembling, and you immediately shoved them in your coat pocket to hide them from him. Joe’s eyes were still laser focused on the pasta sauce that he was cooking on the stove, and you could tell that he didn’t want to look at you at all. 

Again, you couldn’t blame him. 

It was your fault. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. 

There was silence for a moment between the both of you, your eyes never leaving him as you waited for what he was going to say. Though, when he didn’t say anything, you took a deep breath and took another step forward.

“I’m sorry that I ran out again.” You said. “I’m sorry that I keep lying about my feelings for you.”

Joe sighed, turned off the stove and turned to you. The moment his chocolate button eyes caught yours, you couldn’t help but notice how much it really affected him. It was a different kind of look that you have never seen before. Not even when Ivy broke up with him. It was almost as if he looked like he lost someone so special to him. 

“I understand as to why you couldn’t accept your feelings because I know you struggle with that, but I just wished you would talk to me.” Joe shook his head. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I was scared, and I needed to think and I didn’t know what to do because I saw Ivy the other night leaving our flat and—”

“Wait,” Joe cut you off. “You saw her?”

“Yeah, I bumped into her in the hall when I was coming home.” You shrugged, your head hung low. “I… I know something happened between us after that, but I can’t help but think about how it makes me feel like you choose me because she doesn’t want you or whatever it’s going on with you guys…”

“Nothing is going on with us.” Joe replied, taking a step closer to you. “Nothing happened that night. She came and begged to take me back, but I told her that it has been over with us for a long time.”

You gazed up and stared at him with your big wet brown eyes. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t want to doubt Joe either because he told you he loved you and hearing him confirming about him and Ivy, it made your heart swell. In a good way.

Joe exhaled a sharp breath. “I let her stay for the night because she was a mess. I didn’t want her to go home like that, especially knowing that I was the reason why she was crying.”

You nodded your head in understanding. Then, Joe gently took your trembling hands from your coat pockets and held your hands in his. 

“So… it is over?” You asked. 

“It has been over a long time ago.” Joe replied.

You stared at both of your hands and bit your lower lip. Joe could see that you were struggling to accept all of this, but he could also see that you knew it was the truth. You could see it in his eyes. You have always known that. His eyes always spoke the truth. 

“I meant what I said.” Joe murmured. “And I’m sorry for making you feel like shit. I’m sorry for making you think that you’re just a second choice and for pretending that I wanted Ivy. Most of all, I’m sorry that I kept this agreement going even when I knew that you were the one that I wanted. Even when I knew that I loved you and couldn’t tell you.”

Your heart suddenly couldn’t fit in your chest. It was beating a thousand miles per hour, and you couldn’t breathe. You tried to stabilize your breathing as Joe caressed your trembling hands with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry I kept running away from this. You were right that night, you know?” You said. “I was scared to let someone in. Someone who cares about me.”

Joe cupped your face with his hands and caressed your cheek with his thumb. Your knees felt weak, and you moved closer until both of your faces were just inches from each other. Joe grazed his nose softly against yours, making you grin happily. 

“I love you.” Joe muttered. 

“I love you too.” You finally said before finally pressing your lips against his. 

Joe wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he kissed you deeply. He kissed you as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. You smiled through the kiss and finally let all your fears and insecurities go. You let Joe take them away and locked them up in a box and threw them away in the ocean. 

You finally let go and told yourself that you deserved this. You deserved to love someone and have them love you back.  

“So, does that mean you’re not leaving?” Joe teased you as soon as he pulled away.

“Hm… no.” 

You both laughed in unison as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Joe gave you a soft happy smile as he leaned in again and kissed you. In surprise, you let out a squeal as he picked you up and carried you down the hall towards his bedroom. 

“No.” You said, holding onto the doorframe as Joe paused in his tracks. “My room.”

Joe raised his brow at you, surprised that you had suggested that idea. He never had stepped inside your bedroom because he knew your boundaries but fuck boundaries, right? You wanted to let him inside your life. Inside your private mind where you kept your private thoughts and insecurities. You wanted him to know you. To know every corner of your mind. 

“Are you sure?” Joe asked.

“Absolutely.”

Joe couldn’t help but smile as he walked towards your bedroom. His eyes immediately wandered around the four walls, curious of your private space that he has never seen before. Gently setting you down on your bed, he towered over you as you let out a soft giggle. 

“I love your room.” He whispered, his lips finding your neck.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you ran your fingers through his curly hair. 

“It’s yours now too.” You whispered as Joe stared down at you. 

For a moment, he studied you as you reached your hand up to brush his cheek softly. He was yours and you were his. You love Joe and he loves you. That was all that mattered right now. You didn’t want to worry about anything else. This was you accepting that this was real. 

No more pretending.

No more acting.

No more fake relationships.

This was all real.

Joe was real and so were the two of you together. 

Leaning down, Joe kissed you softly as he pulled the duvet over the both of you, your soft laughters echoed the room. 

The End. 

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles

[klausysworld]

could you do like having sex with joseph in tvd scene but then hes saying her real name and not her character name and everyone is like what and she’s like omg bc she loves him and then when the day’s over he takes her home and they end up confessing their feeling and having sex in his car

(y/c/n = your character name <3)

Heaven in the back seats

Joseph had been nervous for this scene all day. He knew he was going to get nervous and most likely very noticeably hard. He got hot and bothered just reading through the script and Daniels teasing was of no help.

His hands shook the first take, when he began to undress her. When her tongue brushed his.

On the second take he pulled away and had to step outside. It wasn’t going well for him, his emotions were too strong and it was playing with his head. It took Julie Plec herself to come and bring him back in for him to get going with the scene again. All the other actors knew of his feelings and Daniel came and told Joseph that Y/n had gotten upset thinking he really didn’t want to kiss her, which immediately made him feel awful and push himself to get onto set.

So this time he got nearly all the way through it

———————————————————————

Klaus pushed Y/C/N against the wall, her legs around his waist and hands in his hair as his tongue chased hers and his hands ripped the buttons off her shirt. She moaned in his mouth as his hands rubbed against her covered breasts before moving down to her wait and popping the button on her jeans.

She pulled away with a lustful look in her eyes as she pulled his henley over his head. Her lips sucked down his neck to his chest, her hands pulling his belt off as he dragged the jeans from her legs.

She got down from his hold and shoved his chest, pushing him back toward the bed and pressing back against him, her hands pushing his trousers down as she leaned into his

“Fuck me Klaus” she whispered lowly.

Klaus spun her round and pushed her onto his bed before getting on-top of her. His boxers pressed to her panties as he kissed her passionately, his lower body grinding against hers making him moan

“Y/n” he breathed as she pulled him close, her hips bucking up to gain more friction.

“Fuck y/n more” Joseph whined, his hands grabbing her hips as he rubbed against her faster

“Joseph” she whispered, her hand taking his face “Joseph” she repeatedly softly “the scenes over” she told him, he panted and hid his face in the provided bed. She stroked his hair with a small smile on her face as her co-stars cleared their throats and turned away. The cameras were facing off and the camera crew were looking around awkwardly until Daniel began to clap causing Joseph to groan and push himself up.

He refused to look at y/n as he walked straight out, his dick hard in his pants as he covered his bright red face and tried not to cry from the humiliation.

Claire and Phoebe helped y/n get redressed and went back to her dressing room to talk about what had happened.

———————————————————————

Joseph wished he could have just walked straight out to his car with no more embarrassment but he had no such luck as he walked straight into her while searching for his keys.

His eyes were wide and his face blushed deeply, his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed but he didn’t dare move away from her.

She smiled up at him softly, her hand reaching out to touch his arm gently

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly and he nodded slowly

“I am so sorry” he whispered, his whole body felt like it had been set on fire.

“Joe it’s fine, it was that kind of scene, we both got carried away with it” she told him

“I- y/n, I moaned you name and was basically humping you” he whispered, his eyes widening further when he realised what he had stated and seeing her hold back a laugh didn’t help. “Shit” he breathed before moving around her and rushing to his car.

“Joseph!” She yelled, chasing him across the road. “Joseph come here!”

He sighed and turned around seeing her concerned expression

“I didn’t mean to laugh” she told him, “I wasn’t laughing at what happened, just the way you said it so casually” she explained “I would never laugh at you” she promised “besides you just beat me to it, I would’ve been moaning your name if I hadn’t heard the producers yell ‘cut’

“But you didn’t y/n, and I did. You have no idea how embarrassing it is” he whispered

“Joseph, why did you say my name?” She asked

“I don’t know” he mumbled

“Don’t lie Joe, why’d you do it?” She pressed

“Y/n I need to go home”

“Joseph Morgan, why?” She raised her voice

“God because I’m in love with you! And I wished it was us on that bed, me and you not fucking Klaus and y/c/n! Okay!?” He shouted and she smiled before grabbing the back of his head and pulling him to her, their lips met in a fiery embrace.

Joseph faltered in his step before his keys hit the ground and his arms went around her waist. His lips moved against hers with so much want. He grunted as she pulled away and let out a breath before leaning back down and kissing her again.

Her back pressed against the door of the car as he moaned in her mouth, his hands squeezing her hips. A car whipped past them, honking at them making him pull away and realise his leg was between hers.

“I love you too but I don’t think I want the locals seeing us doing it against your car” she whispered with a small laugh, her hand cupping his face.

“The locals would be lucky to see it” he whispered before kissing her again, his arms holding her waist right to him “come home with me” he panted and she nodded. Their mouths were wet against each other, neither one of them wanting go stop but knowing they should at least get in the car.

Y/n pulled away slowly, her hand on his chest “It’s dark, nobody can see” he murmured

“What are you suggesting?” She asked breathlessly

“I have a lot of space in the back seats” he muttered, leaning down and grabbing his keys “If…that’s what you want…we can go to mine first-or or if you wanted to move slow then-“

Y/n smiled at his nervous rambled and took the keys from him, unlocking the door

“We’ve waited too long to move slow” she whispered while opening the door to the back seats. He ducked his head as he got inside and sat up nervously. She quickly followed and was straddling his lap before he could blink. His breathing grew shallower as her hips rolled to his, he looked up to her eyes seeing her expression soft and dark at the same time. She kissed him gently before putting more passion into it. His hands slowly moved up and under her top, his heart racing as his hips started to subconsciously move with hers.

He pulled away with a breath to look at her, the women he had been longing for, for far too long. It had been years now since he met her on set, she even moved onto The Originals from The Vampire Diaries because the producers found they had so much chemistry it worked too well for them not to put their characters together.

She looked at him like he was the only person in the world, it took Joseph a while to come out of his shell around her. He went from the shy man she only bad a couple scenes with to making her laugh each morning and spending the entire day together. She couldn’t not fall for him, it was the worlds way of telling them be together by making them kiss on the daily-even if it was through their job. They both knew it wasn’t really ever just their characters.

She lifted her top off as his hands were already climbing her body and this only made him more eager. He cupped her breasts gently through her bra as though they were glass. The moment felt surreal, he couldn’t tell if it was a dream or not anymore.

But deep down he knew it was happening, he couldn’t stop the look of utter admiration as he looked up at her again

“You okay?” She asked gently, her hand stroking his face “is it too much?” She questioned but he shook his head

“Just doesn’t feel real” he whispered and she smiled

“How can I help it feel real” she purred and he shuddered. Her hands pulled his shirt off in one face movement, her lips moved to his neck. She leaned down and kissed across his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipples playfully. She slid off his lap and moved to get onto her knees in the floor of the car. Her hands undid his jeans but he grabbed her wrist

“You don’t have to do that” he whispered, his eyes wide as he pulled her back up and sat her beside him

“It’s okay, I want to” she insisted with a kiss to her lips at the end but he shook his head and pulled her closer

“We’re in a car” he whispered, his cheeks pink making her chuckle lightly

“Next time then” she murmurs kissing his cheek

“Next time” he uttered, the mere thought of being with her…like this again was indescribable for him.

She smiled as she kissed him again and stroked down his abdomen “You don’t have to be shy” she whispered when he ginger squeezed her breasts

“Sorry” he uttered making her smile again and lift herself up to get out of her jeans making him quickly catch on and kick his own off. He waisted no time in also taking his boxers off though then covering himself with his hands making her pout.

“Cmon Joseph, you know it only fair” she muttered as she pulled her panties off and straddled him again. Her thighs were nice and spread giving him a pretty view. His face was bright red as he moved his hands to her cunt, rubbing her timidly with his fingers and letting out a staggered breath when her hand stroked up his length. “I’m already wet” she whispered kissing the spit behind his ear “I want to feel you”. He shivered at her words and nodded, he pulled her as close as he could and she directed his cock.

“Oh god” she breathed when he moved just his tip within her before she sank further down “Joseph-“ she whimpered, he kissed the spot between her neck and shoulder gently as she took him entirely. He stifled a moan as he wrapped his arms around her so her hands held her back

“I love you” he whispered to her, his eyes closing in a state of contempt. She kissed his head as her walls tightened round him

“I love you too” she tells him, she pulls back a little and puts her hands on his shoulders “You ready?” She asked and he nodded, shifting a little bit. “You can’t see anyone right?” She whispered as she looked out the window

“No…it’s just us” he smiled and so she returned it with a nod.

“Okay” she uttered as she pushed herself halfway up him before back down. He bit at his tongue as he moaned and turned his head so she didn’t see him. “Joe” she whispered “don’t be shy” she encouraged, she didn’t want him to feel embarrassed.

He looked to her as she began to move a little faster, her hands squeezing his shoulders. Both their breathing’s got heavier, he pushed forward and captured her lips with his. They ignored the sound of a car going past as he turned her in his hold and laid her down on the back seats to push into her. His hips picked a slightly quicker pace as he let out a throaty moan. His head fell to her neck, his arms still around her as her back arched and the sound of his balls slapping against her filling the air along with their panting.

He kissed and sucked at her neck between moans as his skin heat up and his dick twitched. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands held onto his hair as she looked up at the cars ceiling. Her lower abdomen was building that familiar sensation as he moved faster, she could feel how desperate he was for her. He had been hard all day since that scene and didn’t have any time to relieve himself.

“I love you Joseph” she panted, her hips bucking with his. The air felt thicker, stickier, hotter. His thrusts only got harder with her words making her whisper them over and over in a chant.

Jospeh could both feel and hear the car rocking and creaking as he pushed one of her legs up making her cry out as he hit into her spot. His name was yelled loudly as he pounded into her with all his being. His body shuddered as waves of pleasure ran up his spine.

He felt her walls squeezing him and looked down, her eyes were screwed shut and one of her hands clamped over her mouth. His hips only went faster when he felt her cum. He lifted her back into his lap and thrust up into her.

She moaned so much it became a vibrating sound as she bounced up and down him. He gasped as she wrapped her arms around him and slid up and down him as fast as she could. His hands gripped her ass as she moved making her moan louder into his ear.

He leaned back against the seat as he felt his balls tense, his head went back and he whisper her name so lightly she barely heard it.

Her mouth hung open when she felt him release inside her, her cunt cling to him as she began to slow, her breathing still heavy as she put her arm out and pressed her hand to the window to stabilise herself.

He let out a long breath and a groan as he opened his eyes. Her eyes locked on his and smile smiled. He leant up and kissed her softly, he went to deepen it but she suddenly pulled away with wide eyes

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes searching her face

“Joe…you didn’t pull out” she whispered and his face dropped

“Okay…okay…do you want me to go get you a pill from the shop?” He asked with a nod, carefully lifting her off him

“It’s too late now, I’ll go grab one in the morning” she mumbles, grabbing her pants

“Love” he called softly, his hand grabbing hers “don’t worry about it, I’ll go first thing and being it to you, you’ll be in my bed anyway” he murmurs kissing her cheek

“I will?”

“Of course you will”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can I have wednesday x reader when it's wednesday's birthday?

—

Figuring out what Wednesday wouldn’t hate for her birthday required a lot of thinking. Anything involving technology was an absolute no and all the books you had thought of, she either already had or were impossible to find copies of.

You almost got her a necklace with a black dahlia pendant in a small shop in Jericho, but Bianca mentioned the unspoken best friend vs girlfriend birthday present competition. Unfortunately for you, Enid was a fantastic gift-giver, which added some pressure on your shoulders. Although Wednesday would’ve liked the necklace, you put it back. You could do better, you needed to do better.

Three days before the birthday surprise, you woke up in the middle of the night with a flash idea. You got your laptop and found exactly what you wanted. You had to order it with express shipping, but the extra dollars would be worth the look on Wednesday’s face when she’ll open it.

There was no way Enid could do better than you. Nothing would rival your gift.

On October 12th, everybody gathered at Crackstone’s crypt for midnight. Tyler had been in charge of the cake — 98% dark chocolate ganache with a grim reaper on top —, Thing the making the magazine cut-out message to slide under Wednesday’s door, and Enid the guests.

You and Enid had difficulty containing your excitement as you waited for the birthday girl to arrive. Wednesday had no idea this surprise was happening. She didn’t even know you knew her birthday date. If it hadn’t been from Thing, her birthday would’ve been skipped over.

When you heard footsteps crunching leaves outside of the crypt, you all hid and waited for Wednesday’s grand entrance to scream ‘surprise!’. You all came out from being the statue of Joseph Crackstone, singing ‘happy birthday’ while Enid held the cake. Everyone was off-key and sounded terrible, but it’s the thought that counts.

Wednesday stood there, visibly uncomfortable. Her eyes shifted in the small room, looking for the culprit who slipped her birthday date to everyone. ‘’I should have known you were behind this,’’ she said to Thing, who was sitting on a column. ‘’What part of no party under the penalty of death do you not understand?’’

‘’Don’t be hard on him. Thing only told us your birthday date, the rest is all me and Enid...and Tyler.’’

‘’I made and delivered the cake,’’ he explained, nodding at it.

‘’Make a wish, Wednesday,’’ Enid urged, grinning behind the cake.

She didn’t make a wish, but she did blow her sparklers. She likely did just so the party would be over with, but unfortunately for Wednesday there was more than cake and a bad song.

Enid pushed the cake to Tyler and grabbed a neatly wrapped package from the side of the crypt. ‘’It's presents time! I’ll go first.’’ She handed it to her roommate and watched excitedly as Wednesday unwrapped it. ‘’Do you like it?’’

Wednesday held the black whooled object and examined it with the most confusion. ‘’What is is exactly?’’

‘’It’s a snood, silly,’’ Enid explained as Wednesday unfolded the snood with a new perspective. ’’I made it in your signature colors. And you want to know what the best part is…’’ She reached into a brown paper bag and pulled out a pink blob. ‘’I have one too!’’ Enid wrapped the pink snood around her neck, showing Wednesday how it’s worn. ‘’We can wear them together to class tomorrow.’’

Enid’s snood was thoughtful and sweet — even more so with Enid’s matching one —, but you knew the look on your girlfriend’s face. She hated it.

‘’Oh, Enid. This is far too unique to wear to something like class. I suggest we wait for a more special occasion,’’ Wednesday said, holding back from telling her true thoughts to not hurt Enid’s feelings. ‘’Like a funeral.’’

Enid scrunched her nose, funerals having a totally different meaning to her. ‘’Oh.’’

A few snickers were heard from behind you, so you stepped in and covered them by giving Wednesday your present. ‘’While we’re still accepting presents.’’ You handed her the wrapped box with a large black bow on top, making everyone wonder what was inside. ‘’You’re very difficult to shop for, my little viper,’’ you said to her.

Wednesday ignored the comment and unwrapped the box under everyone’s curious eye. The others wouldn't get it, but you knew Wednesday would understand the emotional meaning the second she would see the box's content.

She unfolded the black tissue paper and an unusual plush animal was revealed to her eyes. Wednesday took it out of the box and confusion spread on all of your friends’ faces.

‘’A scorpion?’’ Bianca said questioningly, her tone full of judgment. She knew Wednesday liked strange things, but a scorpion plushie was a weird ass present.

To Wendesday’s eyes, the plushie was so much more than a medium-sized scorpion. It represented a part of her past. She never got emotional, but the scorpion in her hands filled her little black heart with emotions she was not used to feeling.

‘’Nero,’’ Wednesday mumbled, her deep brown eyes fixated on the plushie. She was baffled, absolutely speechless.

‘’I know he can’t be replaced, but it can be a physical reminder of him.’’

Her eyes filled with water and Wednesday had to fight her strange desire to hug you, not comfortable doing so in front of so many people watching her like a caged animal in a zoo.

She cleared her throat and told Tyler to cut the cake.

After the whole cake was gone and the clock ticked 1am, you decided to call it a night. Principal Weems liked to take a stroll during the night and you doubted Wednesday's birthday would be a valid excuse in her eyes to be out past bedtimes.

The sky was starry above your heads as you walked back to the academy. It was pretty through the tall trees.

Beside you, Wednesday was holding a bag with Enid's gift in one hand and her other hand was holding the scorpion against her chest. ‘’This is the best present I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.’’ She smiled ever so softly.

‘’Oh? I got the impression you had a preference for Enid’s.’’

Horror formed on your girlfriend's face, getting horrible flashes of the content of her bag. ‘’That thing is horrendous. Never mention it again. If you see it on a bench somewhere, never bring it back to me.’’

You held a giggle and nodded. Noted.

‘’Where did you find it?’’ Her finger gently caressed the top of the scorpion’s head.

‘’This terrifying place you call the internet,’’ you said, mocking her refusal to use any form of technology. ‘’I thought of you the second I saw it. I know you don’t want to talk about Nero and I respect that, but he is worth being remembered.’’

Wednesday didn’t know how to respond, so she did what she didn’t allow herself to earlier and pulled you in a tight hug. It was a form of physical contact she used on rare occasions and with very few people.

Her arm that wasn't holding the plushie wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You responded to her gesture, not letting go until she did. 

—

Wednesday taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n  @poppet05  @ell0ra-br3kk3r  @rhaenyraswife  @teaganthemorningstar   @aphex2winn @moompie   @ifevilwhyhot @oliviah-25 @spenglerslime @wetwilliam02 @yellowcupcakes @haileyismoo @theyslayallday @wrldofsage @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @toylewestinnyc @meme-queen-1999 @rottenstyx @mxxny-lupin @idli-dosa @silenzju @ar40s @sweeterheartxamerica @renaissancewhxre @jordierama @lilppsblog @harrystylesfp  @katsuki420 @ravenssh1t @izzy-laufeyson @iluvwomenblog @kenzi-woycehoski @arunaposeidondottie @liidiaaag   @lilaconner @katsukis1wife @momoewn   @amithesimpoffandoms @chaotic-fangirl-blog @hawkegfs   @lyxrix @mommyruuetrue   @acornacreacure @lucassinclairsgf @youdontneedtoknowthisinformation

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Hello. What’s up? It’s me. Anonymous. You’re good old pal (okay I’ll stop). The Josh drum lesson fic was so cute btw! Gosh I wish I had writing talent. Btw, I’m not sure if you want me to pick an emoji to identify as or if you will pick it, but feel free to assign me one if you want.

So………I had another request………but it’s Tyler this time…..kinda.

Could you do a angsty one shot from when Clancy is in Dema and is forced to make propaganda (Scaled and Icy era. Look, I like Tyler with pink hair okay). He meets the reader (how? It’s up to you. Makeup artist, manager of some sort, etc.). They bond, he tells her in secret about life outside the walls and stuff and sort of gets her on the Bandito’s side. After he escapes (as seen in Saturday), she expects him to somehow get in contact with her again and help her escape Dema, but he never does.

You could end it there or maybe flash forward to the events of Paladin Strait and do something with that, it’s up to you. Thanks for always taking my silly ideas to the next level and making me smile with your work.

Number 16 Cotton Candy - Clancy x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph/Clancy × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, anything related to Dema or the Trench story that's generally triggering

Word Count: 1813 (it’s a big one!)

Summary: Check the request!

PART 2

A/N: I’ll give you the 💛 emoji for the yellow banditos! And you’re definitely not alone anon, I freaking love pink hair Tyler (I have a whole pinterest board section dedicated to SAI and Ty’s pink hair) :)

I’d never expected to be working on ‘Good Day Dema’. My family had a long history with the bishops, working for them that is. I remember when the letter came, asking me to be the talent manager for the next season. This ranged from making sure makeup and hair was done to keeping talent company before the show. Except, they didn’t tell me the talent was Clancy, the Clancy. We’d spent a couple days together, me running him through the show, him not saying a single word but listening to all instructions. He’d learnt the choreography, every step and change for the show, but not spoken a single word to anyone but the bishops when asked. I was escorted to a light blue door in the hallway of the soundstage building. 

“He’s in there. You’ll be dying his hair number 16 cotton candy and ensuring he’s ready to film,” one of the assistants said. 

“Thanks,” I smiled sheepishly before walking inside and closing the door. Clancy sat in the corner of the room, his blank eyes staring me down. I nodded over to the chair. He rose to his feet, quietly wandered over and sat in front of me. I’d heard things about him, how he’d escaped into Trench, and was dragged back here. I’d also listened to the new album ‘Scaled and Icy’, a complete 360 from the themes of his letters–not that we were allowed to be reading them. 

“It looks like they’re wanting number 16 Cotton Candy. We’ll have to bleach it,” I said, grabbing the bleach and color from the cabinet, “You good with that?” His eyes darted up to me. 

“You’re asking me?” he asked, his brows furrowed. His voice sounded exactly how it did on the record, except tired. I tried to hide my surprise that he’d responded at all. I nodded. 

“Of course I am. It’s your hair.” Deep down I knew I shouldn’t have been talking to him like this. I was being paid to ensure he looked exactly how the bishops wanted him to, not asking his opinion. 

“Why don’t you just do your job and we can both get this over with?” he spoke with sarcasm dripping from each word. I nodded and got to work with the bleach. The room was quiet except for the radio which was playing SAI on repeat–it was up to Shy Away. 

“I’m sorry about what you’ve had to go through,” I mumbled, completely unsure if I was overstepping a boundary. 

“That’s the price of attempting to escape,” he shrugged and I nodded knowingly. “Have you ever dyed your hair?” he asked, watching me place the foils on his head. 

“Once before. It was a hotter pink, back when we were still allowed to have coloured hair. Do you remember that?”

He nodded. “Yeah I do. My friends were the reason they banned it. They dyed it yellow.” Everyone in Dema knew yellow was a color of rebellion, the color of the banditos (if you even believed in them). Wearing it was almost an instant detainment, or worse. 

“Ah, I remember that,” I smiled softly, remembering the story on the news. “So the bleach is going to take about 30 minutes and then we can do the color. I’ll stay here though, there’s not much for me to do.” The song on the radio switched to Never Take It. “It must be weird to hear your own voice on the radio,” I commented, glad that I was a manager rather than a talent.  

“Yeah, it kinda is. Especially since it’s full of the bishops’ propaganda rather than my own thoughts.” I had a feeling the changes in theme were related to the bishops. “It’s hard to be creative when they’ve got you locked up and use you for entertainment.” The sigh that escaped his chapped lips revealed a level of exhaustion only he knew. 

“Your letters are so different from this,” I spoke, knowing I’d crossed a line and couldn’t go back. He turned around to face me, a confused look on his face.

“You’ve read my letters? How? They’re not allowed in the city.”

“They passed by me when they were first here.” The letters were initially spread from house to house before the bishops found and burned them all. 

“And… what did you think?” I couldn’t tell why he was asking this. What his intentions were. But I could tell he was trying to piece something together. 

“You have a lot to say about our lives here,” I paused before adding, “and Trench. It didn’t end well for you to end up here though.” 

“That’s because I believe everyone deserves to know the truth, whether or not I’m taken back here and used for propaganda is irrelevant. People need to know the truth.” He was ambitious, I’d give him that. I removed the foils and washed his hair before starting with the pink. I grabbed some gloves, mixed the color and started applying it evenly. “You know, you’re pretty for a Dema girl,” he remarked. 

“Does that mean bandito girls are prettier?” I laughed. He shrugged, clearly showing his perspective. “I’m surprised you’ve still got a sense of humor after everything you’ve been through.” His face dropped slightly at that. It was clear that despite being held in a prisoners’ cell this whole time he still had the spark that made him Clancy. It had to be hard but he still had it. 

“I mean it Y/N, you’re pretty… but you should try to leave this place. Out there in Trench everything is different. The colors, the freedom, the creativity. You’ll never want to come back.” His eyes were full of hope. It was clear he was the right person to lead the rebellion. 

“I–I can’t… I’ve got a life here, Clancy,” I sighed. I wanted to, I did. But if he was caught and sent back here then there was no chance I’d even make it out of the walls. He nodded knowingly. 

“I understand. Just know there is always a place for you at the camp.” I finished up his color, washed the dye off in the sink, and styled it for the show. We continued talking about Trench and the banditos, what life was like out there. I reminded him that the bishops wanted a performance for the annual assemblage, slightly disappointed that I hadn’t been invited to manage him. Once his hair was finished and makeup done I turned the chair around. A soft smile grew on his face. 

“I like it. Thank you,” he got up and pulled me in an embrace. His hair smelt of the shampoo I’d used, vanilla. 

“You’re welcome. I’ve got your jacket over here,” I reached to the side and picked it up, the brown fabric soft against my hands. He turned around as I helped him into it. What he did next surprised me. His hands reached up to cup my face. His forehead leant against mine, a few tears escaping his eyes before turning into sobs, his face scrunching up. “Hey, hey, you’re okay,” I hushed, trying to calm him down. 

“I’m scared Y/N,” he stuttered. His eyes darted left and right, searching for something. I tried my best to reassure him that it was okay. 

“You don’t need to be,” I lied. He had every right to be scared. At any minute the bishops could kill and seize his vessel. It was then that I made the decision to kiss him. It was a quick kiss, an unsure one. 

“Oh so now you decide to do that,” he chuckled before pulling me close and walking us back till we hit the wall. Our bodies pressed together, breathing heavily as our lips danced. I could feel the thud of his heartbeat, terrified of the consequences if we were caught. The song on the radio switched to Redecorate, my favorite on the record. I ran my fingers through his coloured hair before pulling away. 

“You’re going to get called on soon,” I said, knowing that I’d likely never seen him again after today. 

“Ok,” he nodded. “I need you to know that this,” he gestured between us, “wasn’t just for the sake of today. I like you Y/N, there’s something special about you.” There was a loud knock on the door and we stepped away from each other. 

“Are you nearly done in there?” the assistant's voice chirped from outside. 

“Yep, we need about 10 more minutes and he’ll be ready to perform!” I shouted back. I could hear her footsteps leave. 

“I like you too, Clancy,” I hummed, once I knew we were alone again. 

“If I ever get out, just know I’ll come back for you. I promise, I’ll get you out,” he vowed. I embraced him and pressed my lips to his one last time before escorting him out to the soundstage. 

“Good luck out there,” I tried desperately to not cry, saying goodbye for the last time. 

Two years later the bishops had released a search notice for Clancy. The submarine that the annual assemblage had been held on sank due to “an unknown number of errors on board.” It took everything in me not to believe he was dead. The bishops insisted he wasn’t and what would they gain from lying about their enemy’s death? I was sure he would reach out, tell me he was okay, but it was radio silence. I’d removed myself from Good Day Dema’s set and spent all my time in my room. It was the same thing every day, work. Working to please the bishops and brainwash the entire city that Vialism was the only way. Except for one night, exactly one year after the notice was issued, three years since I’d heard anything from Clancy. I was reading through a new manuscript for the show and making notes for the new episode. The air in the room went still, I wasn’t alone. A man with curly brown hair with the underside dyed red stood by the door. He was wearing a black vest and a bandana with ‘torchbearer’ written on it. It had scared the shit out of me.

“I know you,” I stood up, “you’re Clancy’s friend.”

“Indeed I am,” his expression remained blank, a calm and stoic leader—exactly how Clancy had described him. I couldn’t decide whether to hug him or kill him.

“He’s alive?”

Torchbearer nodded. A wave of relief flooded over me.

“We request your presence at the town hall tonight. Please do your best to come. I was directly asked to ensure you attend.”

I was going to see him. Clancy had survived. He was coming back. Coming back for me. I was getting out of here. I was going to get to hold him again.

Except it wasn’t him. He’d seized a boy and pretended to be there. Clancy wasn’t even in Trench.

//

Hope you liked it 💛! I’m definitely open to writing a part two but not sure where it would go… keep requesting tho bc ur requests brighten my day!

[bellarkeselection]

Yellowstone kayce dutton

Reader is trying to sneak off to met her Stalker of a ex to tell him to stop calling her

Kayce shows up at the place where she's meeting the ex she's relief to see him

Ex gets jealous " this your boyfriend "

" yeah " kayce tells him even though they're not together ( yet ! )

Super protective kayce <3

Is This You Asking Me Out

Throwing my phone across the room I screamed seeing the unknown text message number from my ex. I wish he would stop calling me. I had moved back to Montana a few months ago and he had followed me wherever I went. He was a complete stalker of my life never wanting to let me go after I left his ass on the back porch of his parents house. Coming out of the bunkhouse I passed Kayce my bosses son. “Hey Y/n, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“It’s not your business, Dutton. I’ll be back to finish up my missed work later tonight.” I brushed past him in a huff climbing in my truck and tracking his phone since he had told me where he was if I wanted to change my mind and take him back.

Walking up the stairs if his porch once I parked the truck slamming the door. I pounded my fist on the door seeing Joseph answer the door smirking at me. “Y/n, I was hoping you’d finally come to your senses. Come in and let’s make you for lost time.”

“Actually no that’s not why I’m here.” Crossing my arms over my chest I snapped at him.

He raised a brow at my words. “And why not?”

“Because you have been stalking me since we broke up. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can barely breathe because I am so terrified that might come back and abuse me like you did when we were together!” I raised my voice at him stomping my foot on the ground trying not to cry in front of him.

Joseph stepped out onto the porch harshly grabbing me by my shoulders throwing me into the wall. “We are meant to be together, Y/n!”

“Joseph, I don’t care about you anymore!” I croaked out when he moved one of his hands around my throat until I heard a truck pull up and I gasped seeing the youngest Dutton. “Kayce?”

The cowboy made his way up the stairs grabbing my ex by the back of his jacket throwing his body against the fenced railing of the porch. “Get your hands off of her….are you okay?” Kayce came over to me gently pushing hair from my face seeing that my elbow was bleeding from when he threw me.

“What are you doing here…not that I mind it. But how did you know where I was going?” I asked gripping onto his forearm when he helped me to stand.

He responded before Joseph punched him in the rib. “Beth told me about what you told her. Then I followed your tracks - ugh!” He threw him down on his back where him and Kayce kept fighting until the former navy seal managed to overpower him.

Joseph grunted with Kayce holding his arms twisted behind his back. “So this is your new boyfriend?”

Before I had a chance to respond Kayce did for me releasing his grip on him. “Yeah I am, asshole.” He got to his feet offering me his hand and we quickly left the porch leaving my stalker ex on the porch.

Shutting the truck door we both remained silent on the way back to the ranch. Tapping my fingers on my knees I turned my head in his direction confused. “Why did you tell him we were together when we aren’t. You do realize that now he will come after you to get to me. Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because I do love you, Y/n. It wasn’t a lie just to piss him off.” Kayce shifted his gaze in my direction lightly gripping the steering wheel. “Nobody should treat you the way he clearly does you.”

Blinking my eyes I couldn’t form a straight sentence when I asked the cowboy sitting across from me. “Is this your way of asking me out, Kayce Dutton?” Kayce and I had instantly became closer the first day we met. But I never thought the guy that was so close he could be my best friend also had feelings for me.

Kayce began turning the truck to put it in park on the side of the road undoing his seatbelt. “No, this is.”

“What are you doing p?” I asked with a half hopeful grin on my face watching his movements.

“I ain’t waiting till we get home to kiss ya.” He leaned over the counsel where I pressed my back against the front of it when he cupped my face in his hands. His brown eyes met mine before he crashes his lips onto mine gently.

I gasped taken back by the kiss before running my fingers up his chest. Moving my hands around his neck I deepened the kiss hearing him moan when I tugged on his hair. “Kayce, I love you too.” I mutter into kisses until we break it needing air to breathe.

“With that said I think it’s time I take you out to dinner, darling.” He sat back down in his seat putting the truck back on the road. Reaching across the counsel I intertwined my hand with his grinning like a child. I knew Kayce would never be what Joseph was to me. He would always be the guy I was meant to be with.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[burningvelvet]

A very long analysis on Heathcliff, his relationships, and his origins: or, how Wuthering Heights drove me insane :)

Links to my previous WH analysis (which aren't required to read this post!): 1) my post analyzing heathcliff & his relationships with cathy2.0/isabella/hareton / 2) smaller post analyzing heathcliff & the earnshaws in relation to theories about his parentage / 3) misc. heathcliff/cathy analysis

-

On Heathcliff's origins, his mysteriousness, and his arrival to Wuthering Heights:

As I mention in that 2nd link, I think the theory of Heathcliff being Mr. Earnshaw's son is an interesting theory of conjecture because even if not true (and it probably isn't) it allows us to more deeply explore the generally accepted basis of the canon, which is that Heathcliff is not related to them, but nevertheless is still caught between the labels of "family" and "outsider," just like he would have been if he had indeed been a bastard, a step-child, or even more formally adopted. Under Mr. Earnshaw's wishes Heathcliff shares a room with the children, he is given equal gifts and clothes as them, and he is preferred over Hindley. And while he may not be in line to inherit legally, he ends up inheriting anyway, an idea which lends itself to the novels Joseph-approved theme of predeterminism/fate.

So I'm not dead-set on any singular interpretation or theory as to Heathcliff's role in the story or the details of his background. Much of his character is inherently mysterious: his race and age are unknown, his family history and origins are unknown, what he was doing for 3 years of Cathy's marriage and how he acquired his wealth are unknown, some of his feelings and motives are highly debatable (as I discussed in my post about his odd dynamics with Cathy 2.0, Isabella, & Hareton: https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/738901817580290048/my-analysis-on-heathcliff-and-his-relationships), & whether English was his first language is also questioned (many people including myself have wondered at the line where we're told he "repeated over and over again some gibberish that nobody could understand," though it could have just been panicked child's speech).

Many academics have noted how Wuthering Heights follows various testaments of the Gothic literary tradition, not only by the involvement of death, violence, ghosts, etc., but also in the use of incestuous themes (whether literal or metaphorical) and the use of the Other in Heathcliff, aided by the mysteries of his origins and his racial ambiguity.

As for Heathcliff not revealing much about his childhood, I believe this part of it could be due to trauma as well as regular childhood amnesia. He may not remember anything. A lot of people don't have many memories from before the age of ~6 anyway — and I just looked it up— his real age is never given but he is believed to be around the same age than Cathy who was described as "hardly six years old." I had thought they were a little older for some reason. He's also said to have been "speaking gibberish" which I once considered may have been indicative of a foreign language and/or accent but now, because of his age and probable low background, it may have been due to his just being very young and maybe unsocialized and shy. It actually makes my heart ache when Nelly describes him :(

Here's an excerpt from chapter 3 describing Heathcliff's childhood:

"He threw himself into a chair, laughing and groaning, and bid them all stand off, for he was nearly killed—he would not have such another walk for the three kingdoms.

'And at the end of it to be flighted to death!' he said, opening his great-coat, which he held bundled up in his arms. 'See here, wife! I was never so beaten with anything in my life: but you must 'en take it as a gift of God; though it's as dark almost as if it came from the devil.'"

We crowded round, and over Miss Cathy's head I had d peep at a dirty, ragged, black-haired child; big enough both to walk and talk: indeed, its face looked older than Catherine's; yet when it was set on its feet, it only stared round, and repeated over and over again some gibberish that nobody could understand. I was frightened, and Mrs. Earnshaw was ready to fling it out of doors: she did fly up, asking how he could fashion to bring that gipsy brat into the house, when they had their own bairns to feed and fend for? What he meant to do with it, and whether he were mad? The master tried to explain the matter; but he was really half dead with fatigue, and all that I could make out, amongst her scolding, was a tale of his seeing it starving, and houseless, and as good as dumb, in the streets of Liverpool, where he picked it up and inquired for its owner. Not a soul knew to whom it belonged, he said; and his money and time being both limited, he thought it better to take it home with him at once, than run into vain expenses there: because he was determined he would not leave it as he found it. Well, the conclusion was, that my mistress grumbled herself calm; and Mr. Earnshaw told me to wash it, and give it clean things, and let it sleep with the children.

Hindley and Cathy contented themselves with looking and listening till peace was restored: then, both began searching their father's pockets for the presents he had promised them. The former was a boy of fourteen, but when he drew out what had been a fiddle, erushed to morsels in the great-coat, he blubbered aloud; and Cathy, when she learned the master had lost her whip in attending on the stranger, showed her humour by grinning and spitting at the stupid little thing; earning for her pains a sound blow from her father, to teach her cleaner manners. They entirely refused to have it in bed with them, or even in their room; and I had no more sense, so I put it on the landing of the stairs, hoping it might be gone on the morrow. By chance, or else attracted by hearing his voice, it crept to Mr. Earnshaw's door, and there he found it on quitting his chamber. Inquiries were made as to how it got there; I was obliged to confess, and in recompense for my cowardice and inhumanity was sent out of the house.

This was Heathcliff's first introduction to the family. On coming back a few days afterwards (for I did not consider my banishment perpetual), I found they had christened him 'Heathcliff': it was the name of a son who died in child-hood, and it has served him ever since, both for Christian and surname. Miss Cathy and he were now very thick; but Hindley hated him: and to say the truth I did the same; and we plagued and went on with him shamefully: for I wasn't reasonable enough to feel my injustice, and the mistress never put in a word on his behalf when she saw him wronged.

He seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment: he would stand Hindley's blows without winking or shedding a tear, and my pinches moved him only to draw in a breath and open his eyes, as if he had hurt himself by accident, and nobody was to blame. This endurance made old Earnshaw furious, when he discovered his son persecuting the poor fatherless child, as he called him. He took to Heathcliff strangely, believing all he said (for that matter, he said precious little, and generally the truth), and petting him up far above Cathy, who was too mischievous and wayward for a favourite.

So, from the very beginning, he bred bad feeling in the house; and at Mrs. Earnshaw's death, which happened in less than two years after, the young master had learned to regard his father as an oppressor rather than a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his paren's affections and his privileges; and he grew bitter with brooding over these injuries. I sympathised a while; but when the children fell ill of the measles, and I had to tend them, and take on me the cares of a woman at once, I changed my idea. Heathcliff was dangerously sick; and while he lay at the worst he would have me constantly by his pillow: I suppose he felt I did a good deal for him, and he hadn't wit to guess that I was compelled to do it. However, I will say this, he was the quietest child that ever nurse watched over. The difference between him and the others forced me to be less partial. Cathy and her brother harassed me terribly: he was as uncomplaining as a lamb; though hardness, not gentleness, made him give little trouble."

From this excerpt we see that Earnshaw 1) despite being racist toward Heathcliff, is also wildly protective of him - so much so that he kicks Nelly out of the house FOR DAYS for initially not allowing Heathcliff to sleep in his childrens room 2) Earnshaw doesn't like Cathy that much, and prefers Heathcliff over her; later when he dies he has a nice moment with her, but still asks her why she can't be a better child (lol) 3) Earnshaw did not name Heathcliff on his own accord but Heathcliff is named after Earnshaw's own son that died!!! And that says a lot; we're also never really told how Mrs. Earnshaw felt about him being named after her dead kid, or if she had a part in it or not, or if she grew to like Heathcliff too — she just dies soon after - however, I think we can all assume she always favored Hindley over Heathcliff, since we're told Hindley's jealousy grew after her death 4) Heathcliff is described by Earnshaw as a "gift from God" which I find kind of suspicious because Earnshaw struggled so much just to get him home... um, God had no part in that, Mr. - unless he's referring to the kids existence imo. At any rate, if Heathcliff isn't biologically related to Earnshaw, we're still led to have the sense that Heathcliff is sort of predestined to be there 5) Heathcliff was indeed a bit scraggly/unkempt when he arrived, but imo that doesn't mean he was necessarily a homeless orphan; if he did have a mother/family, they probably would have been living in harsh conditions anyway just by being impoverished, and if not, maybe he was just a bit dirty from wandering outside like normal kids do, and like he's so fond of doing anyway on the Moors later on - he could have just been playing outside when this white guy comes along and takes him under his coat! 6) Earnshaw says he asked around for the kids parents and felt obligated to take him on, though the kid was struggling... so yeah, regardless of if he's omitting other info or if he's his father or not, we can infer that he essentially kidnapped Heathcliff.

After re-reading this excerpt, I don't think it's as likely that Earnshaw had seen/known Heathcliff personally prior to his taking him home, but I still don't think any of this totally disproves the theory that Earnshaw could have been lying to Mrs. Earnshaw/omitting certain information.

Why was Mr. Earnshaw in Liverpool to begin with? I and many others often assume it was some sort of a business trip, and it probably was, but after re-reading the part where he leaves, I can't actually find anything to definitively confirm what he was actually there for. He could have been in Liverpool specifically to take Heathcliff with him. Another thing that doesn't make any sense is the fact that he walked all the way there alone: "I’m going to Liverpool today, what shall I bring you? You may choose what you like: only let it be little, for I shall walk there and back: sixty miles each way, that is a long spell!’"

He's then gone for 3 whole days. Meaning according to him, he walked 120 miles in 3 days, half of that while carrying/dragging a struggling small child, who he says he took because it would be his easiest option: "his money and time being both limited, he thought it better to take it home with him at once, than run into vain expenses there."

He's contradicting himself, because if he was so concerned about finances then he never would have taken on another child, as Mrs. Earnshaw immediately supplies (meaning if he was on a mission to retrieve Heathcliff, he didn't tell her): "Mrs. Earnshaw was ready to fling it out of doors: she did fly up, asking how he could fashion to bring that gipsy brat into the house, when they had their own bairns to feed and fend for? What he meant to do with it, and whether he were mad?" Ummmm you're telling me there isn't something a little suspicious or weird about any of this?!

And why would he be walking in the first place when he has horses — was he really so tight on money as to not want to support/feed them on a journey, or did he just not want to be recognized or attract attention, or did he not want to deal with a child riding on a horse for the first time? I assume carriages/wagons were out of the question for costs, and I know people walked a lot back then, especially in rural farmlands, but that is a very long journey as he himself says. What was so important? Did he even go to Liverpool at all? And why did he bundle Heathcliff up as if to hide him? To avoid suspicions about having a bastard child, etc.? And we're told Mrs. Earnshaw was expecting him home earlier, and we get no indication if she knew Mr. Earnshaw's plans or whereabouts.

And why does Mr. Earnshaw act so upbeat and nonchalant about all of this, when we're told he's usually really stern? Ie he supposedly treats Nelly well eg, telling her he'll bring her back fruits on his journey, but then he LOCKS HER OUT OF THE HOUSE FOR MULTIPLE DAYS for not following his orders about putting Heathcliff in the children's room on his first night there.

Where tf did she even go lol? Am I forgetting some part about her family having a nearby house? How far did she have to walk to get there, alone and unaccompanied as a young woman? Probably less than 120 miles in 3 days, but still! He's known Nelly her whole life, and he's supposedly known Heathcliff for a day (in which time Heathcliff has already led him into physical exhaustion), and yet he already prefers Heathcliff over her as well as his own children.

Even excusing Nelly being a narrator of debatable reliability, and being sometimes contradictory & biased against Heathcliff, Mr. Earnshaw's behavior still seems a bit outlandish and it makes sense that Mrs. Earnshaw would ask him if he had gone mad. I course, I may be looking too far into this, but how can I not?

Heathcliff's trauma, his relationship with Mr. Earnshaw, Earnshaw as kidnapper, and race:

I think Heathcliff is certainly severely traumatized. I'm not a psychologist but Nelly's line "hardness, not gentleness, made him give little trouble" is textbook childhood CPTSD, and it is partly due to Earnshaw indeed being a kidnapper with a white saviour/"white man's burden" complex.

I think the following quote by Nelly supports this kidnap view, in that she actually refers to him being kidnapped; Emily may also be encouraging us to speculate on even the most outlandish theories of his origins like Nelly does:

"‘A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad,’ I continued, ‘if you were a regular black; and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly. And now that we've done washing, and combing, and sulking—tell me whether you don’t think yourself rather handsome? I'll tell you, I do. You're fit for a prince in disguise. Who knows but your father was Emperor of China, and your mother an Indian queen, each of them able to buy up, with one week’s income, Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange together? And you were kidnapped by wicked sailors and brought to England. Were I in your place, I would frame high notions of my birth; and the thoughts of what I was should give me courage and dignity to support the oppressions of a little farmer!'"

Like in Charlotte's Jane Eyre, Emily also borrows taboo Romantic and Orientalist imagery and racializes the gothic Other figure, because this idea of the foreign/non-white body was a source of anxiety to a lot of white British Victorian readers. This is a popular concept in Gothic literary studies & a lot has been written on it, so I won't go into it too much.

Like Charlotte's Bertha Mason, Linton Heathcliff's identity as being mixed race is essential to his character — in the narrative, him being white-passing is supposed to relate to his identity being more Isabella/Linton (as also evidenced by his name) and less Heathcliff's, who is disappointed not to see his own resemblance in his son.

Since we seriously don't know Heathcliff's true origins, we can't ascertain his ethnicity (given his descriptions/epithets/Nelly's speculations, he is likely fully or part Roma, South-Asian, or African), and we can't tell if he or his family/mother were highborn, enslaved, or simply free, but we do know that slavery was still very active in England in the late 1700s when Heathcliff is a child, and his hometown Liverpool was the center of the slave trade, so connections to slavery either ancestrally or during his hiatus (a popular theory, explored in the book Heathcliff: the Lost Years by David Drum) are possible.

More evidence for the theory of Heathcliff having a previous history of child abuse and unknown early trauma, possibly relating to the slave trade (which doesn't necessarily discount the Earnshaw parentage theory either imo, and if anything may make it more likely if his reasoning for taking Heathcliff was that he wouldn't want his biological son enslaved) — is the portion where Nelly describes Heathcliff and how he initially took Hindley's abuse stoically:

". . . a sullen, patient child; hardened, perhaps, to ill-treatment: he would stand Hindley's blows without winking or shedding a tear, and my pinches moved him only to draw in a breath and open his eyes, as if he had hurt himself by accident, and nobody was to blame. This endurance made old Earnshaw furious, when he discovered his son persecuting the poor fatherless child, as he called him. He took to Heathcliff strangely . . ."

When Nelly adds that Earnshaw called Heathcliff "poor fatherless child," I see this as ironic whether Earnshaw is his biological father or not, since he is still the closest thing he has to any sort of "father figure" nominally, and symbolically in line with the view of Earnshaw as flawed micro-colonizer. In the act of standing up for Heathcliff over his own teenage son and future master of the house, he is basically acting as a pseudo-father preferring one son over another; for Hindley, the blow is deepened by Heathcliff not being Earnshaw's son in name.

For clarity's sake, whenever I refer to Mr. Earnshaw as Heathcliff's unofficially adoptive father or father figre, I do so sort of hesitatingly. Mr. Earnshaw/Heathcliff do not have a regular father/son dynamic; we're told that Heathcliff did not embrace but rather fought Mr. Earnshaw the entire 60 miles back to the Heights.

Surely the above may be hyperbole, but we must keep in mind that Mr. Earnshaw's gifts for Cathy/Hindley/Nelly were lost or destroyed in the process: most symbolically, Mr. Earnshaw's struggle to obtain Heathcliff led to Hindley's fiddle being broken, Cathy's whip being lost, and we're never told what happened to Nelly's gift of fruit, but we can assume it was lost or never got to be obtained as a result of his preoccupation.

Heathcliff's relationship with Mr. Earnshaw is complicated because of the racial power imbalance & as I said, Earnshaw having a white saviour complex & basically kidnapping Heathcliff despite (or so we're told) not fully knowing if Heathcliff had a family or not. Most important are Heathcliff's own feelings about the situation; Earnshaw's wild affection is clear.

We're told by Nelly's observations that Heathcliff clearly did not have a great love for Earnshaw: "I wondered often what my master saw to admire so much in the sullen boy; who never, to my recollection, repaid his indulgence by any sign of gratitude. He was not insolent to his benefactor, he was simply insensible; though knowing perfectly the hold he had on his heart, and conscious he had only to speak and all the house would be obliged to bend to his wishes."

When Mr. Earnshaw was dying, Heathcliff was sitting with Cathy who was singing to Earnshaw. When they realize Earnshaw has finally passed, Heathcliff seems to genuinely grieve as equally as Cathy (Hindley is at college at this time):

"The poor thing discovered her loss directly — she screamed out — 'Oh, he's dead, Heathcliff! he's dead!' And they both set up a heart-breaking cry." Later when Nelly returns from getting help: "I ran to the children's room: their door was ajar, I saw they had never lain down, though it was past midnight; but they were calmer, and did not need me to console them. The little souls were comforting each other with better thoughts than I could have hit on: no parson in the world ever pictured heaven so beautifully as they did, in their innocent talk . . ."

Yet we also know by Heathcliff's odd dynamics with Nelly and Hareton, and even by some of his behavior around Catherine I (who is the only person that most of us can agree he really loves), we can see that, probably due to trauma, Heathcliff does not know how to show affection "normally."

By his earlier disconnected reactions to Hindley's abuse, we can see that early on he had trouble reacting to negative emotions as well, which probably led him to his later emotional dysregulation & bursts of rage/frustration, which make complete sense in his situation and are why we can still often sympathize with him in his path of vengeance, even despite his abusiveness.

So we do not know the full extent of Heathcliff's feelings toward Mr. Earnshaw, and whether he truly had deep affection for him or somewhat resented him, but whatever his feelings were, they were clearly complex. As we all know, Heathcliff is capable of feeling very strongly, and when he does, he is usually vocal about it (see: literally most of his dialogue). He can't go 30 seconds without roasting someone lol. But he is oddly ambivalent and quiet about Earnshaw.

You could also (& countless academics have) argue that Earnshaw/the Earnshaw family is essentially a microcosm of colonization, Heathcliff is symbolically captured/enslaved by Mr. Earnshaw (which highlights how white saviourism is oxymoronic), and then actually becomes almost literally enslaved by Hindley later on.

On Heathcliff and Hindley:

Both are extremely flawed. Both are wildly in love with women who die from labor, both become abusive single fathers, both are defined by their grief and feelings of revenge, both want to kill each other all throughout the story, both actually try to do so to varying extents. Heathcliff saves Hareton from Hindley's negligence by catching him, Hindley saves Isabella from Heathcliff's abuse by tackling the latter (in what I think is one of the novels best sequences, Isabella's narration of the period of Heathcliff and Hindley's fighting and her escape). Heathcliff's bond with Hareton, like Hindley's bond with Isabella, is both manipulative and touching in turns. Ditto for their bonds to Nelly.

Many people believe Heathcliff had a role to play, directly or indirectly, in Hindley's death. Evidence for this: 1) teen Heathcliff wishes Hindley could drink himself to death but acknowledges doctor Kenneth says he won't: "‘It’s a pity he cannot kill himself with drink,’ observed Heathcliff, muttering an echo of curses back when the door was shut. ‘He’s doing his very utmost; but his constitution defies him. Mr. Kenneth says he would wager his mare that he’ll outlive any man on this side Gimmerton, and go to the grave a hoary sinner; unless some happy chance out of the common course befall him.’" 2) later, Kenneth remarks to Nelly that "He's barely twenty-seven, it seems; that's your own age: who would have thought you were born in one year?'" 3) Joseph once accused Heathcliff of attempting to murder Hindley during their fight ("And so ye've been murthering on him?") - in which Isabella said Heathcliff had to barely restrain himself from not killing Hindley. Joseph later adds suspicion to Hindley's death when, after Heathcliff explains to Nelly how Hindley had been suffering from the effects of alcoholism but died suddenly in the morning, Joseph "confirmed this statement, but muttered: "I'd rayther he'd goan hisseln for t' doctor! I sud ha' taen tent o' t' maister better nor him—and he warn't deead when I left, naught o' t' soart!'" (trans. from WH Reader's Guide site: "'I'd rather he'd gone himself for the doctor! I would have taken care of the master better than him—and he wasn't dead when I left, nothing of the sort!'"). So Heathcliff told Joseph to fetch Kenneth which left Heathcliff alone with Hindley, who was then dead when Joseph/Kenneth arrived.

My own theory is that Hindley probably choked on his own vomit (a common form of death by addiction) because of Heathcliff's description of he and Joseph finding Hindley "snorting like a horse; and there he was, laid over the settle: flaying and scalping would not have wakened him." It is after this that Heathcliff is alone with Hindley and he dies. Heathcliff can be seen as guilty through inaction imo, though he would justify it by saying he was letting nature take its course.

Heathcliff and Hindley take turns enslaving each other throughout the story. Hindley's seniority, legitimacy, and race give him advantages, while Heathcliff's early favoritism by Mr. Earnshaw and his later accrual of wealth, wit, and strength give him some advantages. We're told by Nelly (and she's biased, but she's the main source we have) that Hindley bullied Heathcliff immediately, to which Heathcliff weaponized Mr. Earnshaw in his favor, as evidenced by the horse scene.

If, when Hindley returned to become master of Wuthering Heights after Mr. Earnshaw's death, his wife Frances had taken a liking to Heathcliff, or if Hindley had simply matured in his time away — in other words, if Hindley had decided to grow up and let bygones be bygones — I wonder if Heathcliff would have done the same, and decided to be peaceful & not to continue their childhood rivalry.

The bulk of Heathcliff's lust for revenge really stems from Hindley's treatment of him after Mr. Earnshaw's death, when Hindley, as the new Mr. Earnshaw, really does follow through on that childhood promise during the horse scene to use his wealth/power/independence to render Heathcliff miserable, and to turn him out or keep him enslaved. Possibly at the beckoning of Frances (which I mention later,) Hindley succeeds in fulfilling this childish power fantasy, and this is partly what inspires Heathcliff to obtain the means of flipping the script and later rendering Hindley a weakened dependent.

Although Hindley is racist/absorbed his parents racism, note that Catherine was not/did not, and so Hindley's true hatred of Heathcliff imo is more motivated by jealousy/envy for his father's affection than it is anything else, & his own feelings of inadequacy & self-hatred which likely would have existed anyway & were just fuelled by being "usurped" in his father's affection.

I really blame Mr. (& Mrs., though we sadly have so little insight into her character) Earnshaw for Hindley/Heathcliff's rivalry, because I feel like we can assume Mrs. Earnshaw must have favored Hindley more when Mr. Earnshaw started favoring Heathcliff, considering Hindley's hatred increased after the grief from his mother's death, — and this favoritism & parental split is bound to deepen the split between their favorites.

Hindley's hatred of Heathcliff really increased after his father & then his wife's deaths (meaning he had prolonged complex grief), which I'm assuming compounded & brought back his feelings of his original grief for his mother, resulting in further hatred of Heathcliff who had nothing to do with any of it but whose arrival Hindley just subconsciously associated with his mother's illness/death & his father's emotional abandonment (which we could consider a mental death which took place before his physical death; imo Hindley's whole character is defined by grief).

To enhance their pseudo-brotherly rivalry, which some may say is reminiscent of Abel/Cain (especially if you believe the theory/opinion that Heathcliff murdered Hindley or was otherwise in any part to blame for his death), we again have the fact that Heathcliff was named after Hindley's dead brother.

Heathcliff is actually Heathcliff 2.0, and maybe it was Mr. Earnshaw's grief that led him to use Heathcliff 2.0 as a replacement child the way Hindley uses Mrs. Earnshaw 2.0 as a replacement mother.

All throughout the story we have people being named after each other and taking on each other's roles, ie the whole 1st/2nd generation parallels (we could extend it to be 1st/2nd/3rd since I've highlighted the narrative importance of Mr./Mrs. Earnshaw), Linton Heathcliff, Cathy 1.0/2.0. — but we know nothing about Heathcliff 1.0 other than that he died in childhood.

Was he Catherine's age, younger, or older? Did Catherine see Heathcliff as a replacement brother? Did Heathcliff 1.0 die before Catherine was born? Was he Hindley's age? Did Hindley already have grief/trauma from Heathcliff 1.0's death and resent Heathcliff 2.0 for usurping not only him, but his dead brother's place?

We're told that "the family" gave Heathcliff 2.0 his name, but I assume Mrs. Earnshaw and Hindley may not have been involved due to us never seeing that they care for him — and Joseph may have had a role in it, but he's also rarely thoughtful, and Nelly was gone — so could Cathy have suggested the name Heathcliff? (which brings to my mind Edward Rochester telling Jane Eyre to "give him his name" when he proposes to her, asking her to call him "Edward" — this would be poetic of Catherine/Heathcliff's relationship).

The meaning of the names Heathcliff/Hindley are very similar; they also share the same initials, syllable count, and the "ee" sound. Heathcliff is a combination of "heath" (a synonym for "moor"; what he and Cathy love to roave on) and "cliff." In meaning, apparently (according to some sources on Ancestry.com) Hindley is a habitational name from hind 'hind, female deer' and lēah 'woodland clearing' — which is basically another way of saying heath/moor. So there is a lot of similarity in their names, and this tainted brotherly theme, both of which must have been intentional.

Regardless of whether Heathcliff & Hindley are foster brothers or half-brothers, this naming choice is still a sign that Heathcliff was predestined to be part of the family, and lends itself to the other themes of predeterminism in that Heathcliff ends up becoming the master of the Heights after Hindley the way he would have if he were his biological brother.

Mr. Earnshaw telling Hindley he'd bring him back any gift he chose, and then returning with that gift having been broken by Heathcliff, are ample reasons to explain the hatred that moody 14-year-old Hindley immediately feels for him, who was about half his age and therefore an impractical playmate. He is more like a new sibling, and like an older sibling, Hindley is horrified at being overshadowed by the family's new addition. Since we don't know whether Hindley knew or was close to Heathcliff 1.0, we can hesitantly assume he may have been upset by the naming.

On Heathcliff, Hindley, and Frances:

I would like to briefly touch more on Hindley's wife's death (so closely followed by his fathers death) bringing up feelings of his mothers death. Hindley's wife Frances Earnshaw is the second Mrs. Earnshaw and she only comes to the house right after Mr. Earnshaw dies. I believe Hindley parallels his father, Frances parallels his mother (so like many men, he metaphorically "married his mother"), and that Frances also has some similarities to Heathcliff.

Frances has an unknown origin story and Hindley keeps her background from his father on purpose, and this could have been intended to parallel the first Mr. Earnshaw from possibly keeping Heathcliff's origins vague: "What she was, and where she was born, he never informed us: probably, she had neither money nor name to recommend her, or he would scarcely have kept the union from his father."

Frances also immediately dislikes Heathcliff... just like Hindley's mother, the first Mrs. Earnshaw, did: "Mrs. Earnshaw was ready to fling it out of doors: she did fly up, asking how he could fashion to bring that gipsy brat into the house, when they had their own bairns to feed and fend for? What he meant to do with it, and whether he were mad?"

We don't know why Frances dislikes Heathcliff, but it wouldn't be a stretch to assume it has to do with his race & status, because it is only after her disapproval that Hindley banishes Heathcliff to the role of a servant/slave, we can assume. We can also assume Frances disliked Heathcliff from the beginning, since we're never told that she took a liking to him like she initially does with Catherine; we are only ever told she dislikes him:

"She expressed pleasure, too, at finding a sister among her new acquaintance; and she prattled to Catherine, and kissed her, and ran about with her, and gave her quantities of presents, at the beginning. Her affection tired very soon, however, and when she grew peevish, Hindley became tyrannical. A few words from her, evincing a dislike to Heathcliff, were enough to rouse in him all his old hatred of the boy. He drove him from their company to the servants, deprived him of the instructions of the curate, and insisted that he should labour out of doors instead; compelling him to do so as hard as any other lad on the farm."

It is after the last quote that we learn Cathy and Heathcliff become increasingly "feral" outdoors, as Heathcliff is forced to toil in outdoor labor, and Cathy insists on keeping him company while he's at it. At this point they are both essentially orphaned, and then neglected and abandoned by Hindley and Frances, the new Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw, who take on the roles of the former Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw, who were similarly neglectful and emotionally abandoning to their children.

On Cathy and Heathcliff:

In the beginning, Lockwood reads this diary entry from Catherine I which proves the prior analysis in that she compares Mr. Earnshaw 1.0 to Mr. Earnshaw 2.0 (Hindley):

""An awful Sunday,' commenced the paragraph beneath. 'I wish my father were back again. Hindley is a detestable substitute — his conduct to Heathcliff is atrocious – H. and I are going to rebel — we took our initiatory step this evening."

Notice how in the death of Mr. Earnshaw and then under the tyranny of Hindley (Mr. Earnshaw 2.0), Cathy and Heathcliff are often sharing each other's emotions, and their bond is very twin-like. They both cry & grieve in their room in unison after Earnshaw dies, and although Heathcliff is the one primarily sentenced to torment by Hindley, Cathy doesn't abandon him to it and instead often keeps him company in his punishment, recalling when she was younger and her father would try to keep Heathcliff away from her to punish her.

Even when Cathy does sort of abandon Heathcliff to marry Edgar, in her speech after Heathcliff leaves, she says that her plan was to use her control over Edgar to benefit Heathcliff, so she really never intended to abandon him at all. Abandonment, attachment issues, separation, loss, grief, being torn away from someone/somewhere/something, are all major themes in this story, often expressed by familial and more often filial experiences.

Cathy and Heathcliff's relationship basically embodies all these themes the most poignantly, in that Heathcliff abandons her because he thinks she's abandoning him and he can't bear it and would rather leave than be left; then as soon as he returns, Cathy ends up actually physically abandoning him by dying! And later on, her ghost taunts him (I believe most of us can take the ghost plot as canon & not hallucinatory considering how many characters attest to it), and he once again returns to her like he did before.

Their whole relationship is about overcoming obstacles to separation, and being determined to retain their attachment as an act of defiance (even if it means defying life, death, physics, etc.) — this is why they're considered the most romantic couple in literature even despite their awful behavior most of the time, because in writing/literary pedagogy as a general rule it is almost always the goal of romantic leads to overcome obstacles which separate them from their lover, – and Heathcliff and Cathy take this goal to a new level by overcoming not only their childhood punishments of separation from one another, but overcoming the impossible obstacles of LIFE AND DEATH to reunite in the spirit realm where no one can separate them again — not even God.

Both Catherine and Heathcliff say that they know they won't go to heaven; God literally doesn't want them, and he has abandoned them, and this is the ultimate abandonment/seperation. Thus, all they have in the universe is each other — and if their relationship didn't work in life, they're determined to make it work in death!

Some final thoughts on Mr. Earnshaw and the making of Heathcliff:

Due to all of my previous explanations, I consider Mr. Earnshaw a possibly well-intentioned man but who ultimately failed all of his children (along with Mrs. Earnshaw) by 1) emotionally neglecting/abandoning Catherine because she was a "bad child" & acted more boyish than Hindley, 2) emotionally neglecting/abandoning Hindley in favor of Heathcliff (and maybe it was partly because Hindley was becoming a moody teenager and Heathcliff was comparatively younger/easier to handle bc of his trauma-induced subdued nature, but whatever his reasoning, it had disastrous consequences), 3) emotionally neglecting Heathcliff too by not being involved enough in his integration with the family & not checking in on him and Hindley, 4) straight up just not being that involved to begin with and not seeming to teach his children anything, hence why they're all bratty and grow up to be deeply maladjusted.

Notice how Nelly's motivational speeches to Heathcliff, and her taking care of him when he was sick, have an extraordinary affect on him, meaning Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw probably didn't show him even half as much attention or real affection. Like most English fathers at the time, Earnshaw thought his job as father/master was to merely provide provisions, leave the children with the women to be actually raised, and be done with it. The most unique thing he does in his life, and indeed his whole role in the story, is bringing home Heathcliff.

Maybe most importantly, I also just realized that Earnshaw kidnapping Heathcliff parallels Heathcliff kidnapping his own son after Isabella dies (and also him kidnapping his daughter-in-law Cathy II), and while this narrative parallel works if Earnshaw is merely Heathcliff's adoptive father, it also could be working to suggest that Earnshaw was his biological father, knew Heathcliff's mother had died, and so went back for him and took him by force. If Heathcliff's mother had recently died (or been separated from him), this would have compounded his trauma of being taken by Earnshaw, and this would have furthered his childhood memory loss, which could be another reason why I don't think Heathcliff remembers very much about his origins.

Heathcliff has much in common with Frankenstein's creaure. Yet, he is essentially a self-made man, his own creator and creature. We are even led to think of him as inhuman, as Isabella suggests with her referring to him as such and even calling him vampiric. And he does bear a lot of similarity to John Polidori's Lord Ruthven, from the first vampire novel The Vampyre (a Byronic tale, based on Byron's short story Augustus Darvell). Heathcliff's canonically mysterious origins and mysterious hiatus are necessary to his character; like Isabella and Nelly, we're supposed to question him and form our own opinions on the matter.

[squadmuse]

IN LOSS AND LOVE

AN AARON HOTCHNER X OFC STORY

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST EVER POTENTIAL MULTICHAPTER STORY SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE TOO (1602 WORDS)

A woman stood alone.

Empty cars were lined on either side of her, one of them her own, and yet she could not move another step, even as snow started to fall down from the heavens upon her.

She didn’t know what she was doing here, she didn’t want to be here and god knows that she shouldn’t be here, but here she was standing in front of the community hall.

Death.

That was the reason for her standing there, and for why her heart was shattered. Death had snatched someone away from her, someone important and involved within her life, and grief had fallen upon her heavier than the incoming snowstorm.

He had been her husband, her best friend once upon a time. Life hadn’t been easy for them both, and they had divorced a while ago, yet he had been so integrated into her heart and life, that just walking through those big doors before her, it felt that if she did, then it meant he was indeed gone and she was somehow betraying him.

But she needed to do this, it wasn't just herself she had to worry about, and she had been struggling, the entire family and their friends had been too. So, with a heavy heart and deep sigh, Eleonora persevered and let courage prevail.

Her gloved hand felt shaky as she held the door open for herself, but the warmth of the heat indoors made Eleonora feel somewhat relaxed. The soft clicks of her heeled boots seemed to echo slightly as she made her way along the corridor, her hazel eyes looking for the room that the group were to be meeting in.

Luckily, it didn’t take Eleonora long, as she found the room easily. She could hear muffled chatter from within, and again she felt her anxieties rising from within herself. This was it, finally confronting that Joseph was dead, and she pushed herself through the heavy door.

It was like she had imagined the group to look like. A number of chairs were set up in a large circle, and a few people had gathered already and were chatting. They seemed friendly enough, guessed Eleonora. There was even a small table where some were making tea or coffee. Coffee sounded quite heavenly at that moment to her.

Alas, Eleonora didn’t get to go make her coffee as an elderly woman seemed to appear out of nowhere and before her. She seemed kind, a soft smile upon her aged face, painted dark red. A frail hand reached out, with matching dark red painted nails.

“Ah you must be Eleonora?” asked the old woman to Eleonora, who nodded with a kind smile.

“Yes, I’m Eleonora, and I’m guessing you are Margot?” replied Eleonora. Margot had been the one to reply to her email about the group and the group leader.

An even wider smile came across Margot’s face as she nodded. “Ah it is good to see you here, it’s always hard at first, but I think you’ll find us a friendly bunch who are in the same boat,” said Margot as she rubbed Eleonora’s right arm gently.

Eleonora sniffled slightly. “It’s been a couple of weeks and with Christmas coming up, not having Joseph there is just heartbreaking…,” replied Eleonora as she accepted a tissue from Margot.

Margot nodded. “I wish I could say it will get easier, but there’s always a piece of you missing. It has been fifteen years since I lost my George in a car accident,” she added, sighing sadly.

Eleonora felt her heart break for the woman before her. “Oh I'm so sorry, how do you get by after so long?”

“Back then I had a good family around me, and I had my three children too,” replied Margot as she walked slowly with Eleonora towards two seats next to each other. “But I found this group, and it helped a lot and I mean it. I found that I wasn’t alone and people who completely understood the loss of a spouse or partner too.”

Eleonora nodded as she slid down onto the foldout chair. “I was really nervous about coming to be honest, Margot. It just feels like being here cements that Joseph isn’t ever coming back.”

The elder woman grabbed hold of Eleonora’s hands and held them in a gentle grasp. “The first step is always the hardest part, but you are here, and we always help each other here. Joseph might be gone, but he’s still there in your heart, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes, I mean we might’ve been divorced, but he was still so important in my life!” said Eleonora to Margot, who smiled comfortingly at her.

“You had a son with him, didn’t you? That you were co-parenting?” asked Margot as she leaned closer to Eleonora, the scent of lilies and roses wafting towards her.

“Yes, Theo. He turned three years old back in August. God, he misses his papa, but he’s so young that he doesn’t really understa-” replied Eleonora, her voice breaking as she thought about her little boy crying out at night for his papa or wanting to speak to his papa.

Margot sniffled herself as she pulled Eleonora into a warm hug. Eleonora could feel the tears running down her cheeks, but she didn’t care nor worry. Just from meeting and chatting with Margot, she felt safe, and she felt comfortable showing her emotions.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” murmured Margot as she comforted Eleonora. “I know exactly what you’re going through and just let it all out. Nobody will ever judge or ridicule you here.”

Eleonora pulled herself away from Margot’s embrace and wiped her wet eyes. “God, I probably look like a drowned cat right now… do you have any tissues and maybe some coffee?” asked Eleonora as she held onto Margot’s outreached hand.

Margot nodded and turned to another member of the group. “Emmett dear, will you fetch some of the tissues from the supply cupboard? I don’t think they’ve been put out yet.” she asked, and a tall man nodded and Eleonora guessed that he was indeed Emmett. “Now back to you my dear, some tea will do you some favour instead of caffeinated coffee!” she added as she brought Eleonora over to the little table she had seen before.

“I’ve never been a big tea drinker before, and I’ve been drinking coffee nonstop lately, I feel,” said Eleonora as she watched as Margot whipped together a white polystyrene cup of tea for her.

Margot nodded as she worked. “Tea was such a blessing for me, helped calm me and helped me sleep too. Do you have milk in it?” she asked, and Eleonora nodded and before long she was holding the warm cup in her pale hands.

After one sip, Eleonora did feel more relaxed somehow. Perhaps it was the warmth, or maybe it was the milk or just that someone had made it for her. The last few weeks had been tough, and she had been prioritising Theo over herself. “Wow, this is probably the best tea I’ve ever had, Margot!” she stated as more people turned up through the doors that Eleonora had been nervous about walking through herself.

Margot chuckled and rubbed Eleonora’s arm. “I’m glad you like it, now I hate to be rude, but I need to go welcome the other newbies!” smiled the old woman who Eleonora was now already fond of.

“Don’t let me keep you, I’ll just sit here and drink my tea!” replied Eleonora as she brushed a strand of her own light brown hair away from her face as Margot made her way to the new arrivals.

Eleonora hadn’t been joking about the cup of tea, it was a great cup of tea, and it didn’t take long for her to wander over to the table and take a biscuit to nibble on. Emmett chatted away with her for a bit and introduced her to some others he knew, and it was then that Eleonora knew she had made the right decision to come tonight.

It was only as she was talking away to Sara and Juana, two women close in age to herself, that Eleonora locked eyes with another set that she had not seen in over ten years, but she would never forget those brown eyes nor the man who they belonged to. Eleonora found herself rising from her chair and, if by autopilot or something more, she felt herself hurrying ever so slightly to who she had seen and who had seen her too.

Eleven years had passed, and a lot had changed in Eleonora’s life, but Aaron Hotchner had not.

"Ella is that you?" he asked, his gaze unyielding yet filled with withheld emotion.

Eleonora nodded, feeling herself begin to tear up at the sight of Aaron after all these years.

"Yeah, it's me, Aaron," replied Eleonora, and with that she felt herself being pulled into his tall frame and into a deep hug that was exactly how she remembered.

"It's been so long. I missed you," he murmured into her neck.

"I know, I missed you too. But we've found each other again," she whispered, staring up at him.

Years had passed, loves had been lost and lives created, but at that moment, the two of them were there, together and perhaps just what each other needed.

[wintervalewritersecond]

retrocognition - xavier thorpe

masterlist

requested: yes! requests: open! I love your writing so much! If you have the time could you please do a xavier x reader where him and the reader don’t really get along at all, kinda enemies! And the reader is a witch and she is having difficulty doing a spell but then Xavier comes in and bothers her and somehow she accidentally casts a spell that makes them go into the future. in the future her and xavier are like married with kids and they both are kinda freaking out over seeing their future selves and when they get back to the past Xavier is trying to deny what they just saw but they eventually end up together?

A/N: this idea is so super cute <33 i hope you like it :) they dont quite end up together just yet, especially because they were enemies before and this is only one small fic, but i do hope you enjoy reading! <3

wordcount: 2,772 warnings: she/her reader, incorrect information about witchcraft, xavier annoys reader

Xavier Thorpe and you do not get along. Then why is it that he is in your future?

"Here you are!"

You thank Thornhill before stepping into the empty classroom. The bag on your shoulders is heavy as it is filled with countless jars of ingredients, incense, candles and different types of water. To top it all off, it had a thick book filled with all the spells and sigils you know.

There was a history test coming up, and you thought of the perfect way to learn from it; seeing the past.

Sure, it might be a bit extreme, but if you have the power to do it, you might as well use that to your advantage. From what you know, you have everything to perform the spell.

No one else was going to enter the classroom any time soon, so you could use all the tables to put your stuff down. Jar after jar, candle after candle came out of your bag before it neatly got placed in its own spot. For a spell this hard, you needed all the space and organization you could get.

You had performed this spell once before, but it had been a while. The last time, you only went backward a week. You only wanted to know at what time you were going to meet your friend later that day.

Now you were going to try to go back to the 1600s to learn about Joseph Crackstone. Sure, the entire city knew of the history, but none of them have truly lived it. Pilgrim World is just a poor excuse for trying to remake it while selling fudge. You are not a Crackstone fan considering he would have killed you back in those days, but he wouldn't be able to see you in the past anyway.

With the spells that you performed, you turned invisible when being in a place where you shouldn't be. It is like watching a movie. You see them, yet they don't see you. You open your journal, flipping through the pages before seeing the one you need. It had a sigil on it already, one connected to the Retrocognition spell.

Just as you light your first candle, the door swings open. You look up, slightly annoyed. Did Thornhill rent the room out to another student?

"You're here?"

Out of all students, it had to be Xavier.

For some reason, the two of you never got along. Not because you didn't want to befriend him - no. He just decided to be a complete ass to you since the beginning. The two of you were in the same friend group, yet he never spoke a positive word to you. It would always be something snarky or negative.

"Yeah?" You raise an eyebrow. "Thornhill told me that I could use it. It was going to be empty the entire day anyway."

"I was allowed to use it for my Botany homework."

"Xavier," you groan. "Just use the other half of the classroom. Just... Stay out of my way. I have a History test that I need to learn for."

He circles your table as you only keep setting things up. You can't have him messing up your spell. More candles get lit as you crush up some flowers and herbs.

"Is this your homework?" He lets out a laugh. "I wish my homework consisted of scribbles and some seasoning."

You roll your eyes as you place each ingredient in its designated spot. If he messes up your spell, you will kill him.

"It's not just some scribbles. They're called sigils, dumbass," a sigh leaves your lips. "And they are for history class. There is a test coming up."

Another laugh leaves Xavier as he flips through your journal.

"How are some pen marks and rose leaves going to teach you History?"

"Xavier, we both know you're too dumb to understand this. Just go to the other side of the classroom and don't bother me."

The last thing you needed was the journal. You had to place it in the circle of candles, drawing the sigil while saying the incantation. But, considering the tall boy had your book, you couldn't get the spell started. He is flipping through the pages with a big grin on his face.

"Oh, look at me!"

He takes hold of some rose petals, sprinkling them around on the table and the floor.

"I am Y/N," he lets out a laugh before grabbing more ingredients, spilling them on the table.

"Xavier, stop it! You're messing with my spells!"

"That's not true," he takes hold of your hand before pushing a pen into it. "I am merely helping with your 'oh so important' History homework!"

He takes your hand to write on the paper, making random shapes and lines.

"Look! I could be a witch, this is easy."

"Xavier! Stop being so annoying!"

You take the pen off of the paper as Xavier's hand still holds yours, but to your surprise, the paper actually starts glowing. No way that he had activated a spell.

"Retrocognition?"

A bright light exploded in the room, making you shield your eyes with your hand. Xavier also lets out a yelp, what the fuck happened?

When the light dims, you finally open your eyes again.

"Where the fuck are we?"

In front of you is a house. A beautiful one, but certainly not one from the 1600s. Music can be heard from inside, together with some talking and you even hear a meow.

Someone walks past you, carrying a bag on their shoulders. He is tall and his hair flows to his shoulders. The man is not that old, though older than you and Xavier now. A smile is on his face as he walks up to the house.

"Wait a second," you let out a giggle. "Is that you?"

Xavier walks up to the guy as you follow him. It certainly was. His face looks almost the same, yet a bit more mature. It is like he is looking in a mirror, one that shows him his future.

"You look old," you laugh, elbowing the artist.

"Shut up," he rolls his eyes. "What happened with that stupid spell that you were trying to cast?"

"Someone happened to fuck it up," you narrow your eyes at him before nodding to the door. "I'm going to see what your old ass is up to."

Future Xavier unlocks the door, allowing you and Present Xavier to slip inside. Not that they would see you anyway. The music gets a bit louder as you hear some movement from what seems to be the kitchen.

"Love? I'm home!"

"Aw," you look at Present Xavier, trying to hold in your laughter. "Someone is dumb enough to be stuck with you. That's sweet."

"You jealous?" Xavier raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you. "At least I know that I won't be alone in the future."

You roll your eyes, slowly following Future Xavier around.

"Look! He is even wearing a wedding ring!"

The house truly is beautiful. It is filled with plants in different corners, a cozy couch, a big kitchen, and huge windows. If you didn't know any better, then you would surely have said that this is your dream house.

"I'm in here!"

Your eyebrows furrow when you hear the new voice. It is strangely similar, but... it can't be, right? Xavier catches up to you, not fully sure what to do. He has never been in a spell like this before. Hell, he didn't even know any spells. Sure, he would say 'open sesame' when trying to unlock his door if his hands were full, but the door never swung open.

You stop in your tracks when your eyes fall on the new figure.

In the kitchen is a shorter girl, one looking exactly like you. Her height, her body language, her voice, and her face. What are you doing here with Xavier? A high-pitched laughter can be heard as Future Xavier hurries to the table, dropping his bag before picking up a small girl.

"There's my favorite girls!"

Future you also has a ring on her finger, one that fits together with Future Xavier. Present Xavier stops walking as he takes in the three figures.

There he is. Holding a young girl with one arm while the other is resting on your shoulders, pulling you into him as Future you lets out a giggle.

"What the fuck?" Xavier whispers.

It was weird enough to see himself in the future, even if he didn't change too much. But it is even weirder to see himself together with you, and with a child. You are also frozen in place, your eyes fixated on the three figures in front of you. What type of spell is this? Is this actually real? Or is this only your imagination playing tricks on you? Surely not. If Xavier can see it, then it must actually be happening, right?

"I'm getting out of this," Xavier groans, turning around to walk back out of the front door before his eyes fall on an item.

On the wall hangs a big canvas with a very specific scene on it. Future him in a neat, black suit. Next to him stands Future you, dressed in a long gown. Both have big smiles on their faces. His fingers twitch, did he paint that? The picture almost seems to move in front of him as the figures get closer and closer, sharing a soft and loving kiss before returning to their original positions.

"Y/N, get us out of here!"

Xavier is confused and even slightly scared. You break your stare as you look over to the tall artist. With only a nod, you take his hands in yours, whispering an incantation to break whatever spell you were in right now.

Another bright light makes you close your eyes as you return to the Nevermore classroom. Xavier pulls his hands out of yours harshly.

"What was that!?"

"I don't know!" You let out a deep sigh.

Your journal had stopped glowing, only pen stripes from whatever sigil Xavier had come up with are left on the page. You run your fingers over it, confused as you try to read off of the pages.

"It's precognition," you let out a whisper. "We were supposed to see the past, but instead... it was the future."

Xavier lets out a short laugh before shaking his head.

"Whatever that was is not my future."

He slings his bag back on his shoulders, glaring at you as he backs up.

"We will never talk about this. Ever."

You weren't in the mood anymore to try any other spell. Instead, you just cleaned up the mess of flower petals and herbs before retreating to your dorm.

-

The spell had really messed you up.

After that dreaded day, you had tried multiple times to find out what happened. To find out if it was true. But no matter which color of candle you used, or what type of incantation, they all gave you the same answer.

This was your future.

Xavier Thorpe.

You tried to talk to him, maybe if you did, you could avoid the future that he seems to hate so much. Sure, Xavier wasn't your best friend either, but at least you don't despise him as much as he despises you. He is pretty and mesmerizing, but the way he treated you was just the worst.

He would sit on the opposite side of the table during lunch breaks, and would completely ignore you before, during, or after classes.

"Xavier looks even angrier than usual," Ajax snickers. "What did you do this time?"

You roll your eyes as you read through your journal. Is there really not any other Truth or Future spell out there?

"Absolutely nothing," you shrug. "Maybe he is in one of his moods."

"I don't know," the Gorgon chews on the end of his pencil. "He's been really moody this past week."

You don't really respond. What are you supposed to say? 'Oh, he found out that he and I are married in the future and he absolutely hates it.' That sounds incredibly stupid. Even if it is true.

-

Later that night you sat in your dorm yet again. Around you is a circle of candles in all sorts of colors, their flames the only source of light. It feels like you have read every single page of all your Witchcraft books at least five times, yet you still haven't found any spells to help you out. There has to be something that can show you a different future, right?

A knock on your door pulls you out of your focused state. Who would be at your door right now? You don't have a dorm mate, and from what you knew, most of your friends were out to Jericho. You stand up from your seat, walking up to the door to open it. Behind it stands Xavier with a tired look in his eyes and his sketchbook in his hands.

"Can I come in?" He mumbles softly, looking down at you with the softest look he has ever given you.

You step to the side, allowing the artist to enter your room. He stays silent. No snarky comment, nothing mean. Just silence.

"Have you found anything else?"

The only answer you give him is a shake of your head. You had really tried. Xavier his reaction during the spell was enough - he didn't want this future. At least, not with you.

"Can we try again?"

His question shocks you. He wants to enter the spell again? Go through more scenarios of the two of you together?

"Are you sure?"

He nods, placing his sketchbook onto your bed before stepping into the circle. You just quickly follow him, opening the page of scribbles that Xavier had drawn before. His hands are already reaching for yours when you speak the incantation.

Another bright light.

This time, you aren't in front of the house. Instead, you appeared in it, already. There is no furniture around you. No curtains, no couch, no table, not even a wooden floor.

"I can't believe this!"

Future you squeals as she runs around the house, inspecting every room once more.

"Look! This one can be your art studio, and then the room next to it can be for my spells and potions!"

The woman pulls Future Xavier with her, holding his hand tightly as she spits out different ideas for the space.

Present Xavier swallows thickly, his hands balled up into fists.

"Are you okay?" You whisper, looking up at his taller figure.

"I have seen this before."

How would he have seen this before? He knows nothing of witchcraft - the spell he performed before was just a simple accident. The spell ends quite quickly, returning to just you and Xavier in the middle of your bedroom. It stays quiet. The only movement comes from the lit candles whose flames are moving in the non-existing wind.

"Why did you want to see it again?" You softly speak up. "You hate the outcome. It didn't change one bit."

The boy shakes his head, reaching for his sketchbook before flipping through the pages, stopping at one specific drawing which seems familiar.

"I haven't been able to sleep this entire week," he admits. "I had these dreams. Dreams that felt like the one spell. I drew all of them."

He holds his hand up on the page, the figure of you pulling Xavier with you before disappearing behind one of the pencil lines. You can almost hear your excited chattering and Xavier's laughter. But that is not the only thing he drew.

Different dates, your wedding, even sketches from the little girl.

Everything was exactly as the spell had told you.

"I convinced myself for so long," he mumbles. "I tried to tell myself that I didn't like you. That, if I ignored you, you would stay out of my way. But I don't want to do that anymore."

You let out a giggle, looking up at him.

"Alright," you whisper. "We can start over?"

Xavier looks at you, a relieved look on his face as he nods. Though the future scared him, he now does truly want it. He felt like he didn't deserve a future with you after how he treated you. But, he might change his mind. He might be able to change himself and make up for all the times he wished he could hold you, kiss you, be with you.

"Yeah," he nods with a smile before he holds out his hand. "Xavier Thorpe. Nice to meet you."

[sweetprfct]

Is It Over Now?

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fake dating your flatmate, Joe, should be a simple thing. It meant you get to help get his ex back, and it meant you get to stop your parents' nagging about bringing someone home for once. But what happens when fake dating turns into something unexpected? Now, what?

Author's Note: Part 7! Sorry for the delay, guys! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: 18+, smutty-ish

Wordcount: 4.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Joe hasn’t seen you in a week. He wasn’t sure if you had been avoiding him since that night, but he knew you were home. You just weren’t coming out of your room. He couldn’t blame you though because he acted like an asshole towards you that night. For a week, he kept repeating the words that he had said to you and kept wishing that he could go back in time and change it, but it was too late. It already happened. He couldn’t take back everything he said. He could only just try to fix the damage that he has done between the both of you. 

The guilty feeling that has been washing over him all week was slowly killing him on the inside, and he wished he could just see you. Although, if you weren’t coming out of your room, he knew that you didn’t want to be disturbed. However, Joe knew that you couldn’t hide in your room forever. You would eventually have to come out and face him because there was no way you could just avoid him forever. 

So, when he woke up one Saturday morning, he was greeted by a fresh aroma of warm waffles that were coming from the kitchen. Joe rubbed the sleep in his eyes and adjusted his vision from the light that was coming through his window. He heard some soft clattering from the kitchen as he got up from his bed and sat there for a minute, trying to wake himself up completely. If you were in the kitchen cooking something, Joe knew this would be the only chance he could talk to you and apologize for what happened. 

Opening his bedroom door, he slowly walked down the hall and into the kitchen. There, he found you standing by the stove, your back turned towards him and your headphones covering your ears. Joe could tell you were definitely avoiding him by how high the volume of your music was. He could practically hear it from down the hall. 

He didn’t know why he felt nervous as he walked towards you, but he needed to apologize to you. Hurting you and making you feel like shit was the last thing he wanted you to feel. This wasn’t like him at all. He knew better than to make you feel like that. 

Tapping you softly on your shoulder, you looked over your shoulder and found Joe standing behind you. You slid your headphones from your head and turned the stove off before turning to give him your full attention. You raised your brows, waiting for what he was going to say but somehow, Joe had forgotten the whole English language. He couldn’t understand why he felt this way about you. He was always confident when he was around Ivy but somehow, you made him nervous all the time. 

You stood there, staring at him, eyes blinking and not saying one word as you waited for Joe to find his words. In all honesty, you didn’t have the time to really hear him out but watching him standing there in front of you nervously, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. You could see the guilt in his eyes. 

“I… I want to apologize for acting like an asshole the other night.” Joe murmured. 

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, letting out a deep breath as Joe continued, “I’m sorry for getting angry, and you were right that it’s not fair for me to go and kiss Ivy, and you couldn’t go out with anyone. It wasn’t part of the plan. I stepped into your boundaries, and I’m sorry.” 

You pursed your lips and unfolded your arms from your chest, letting out a sigh. You weren’t a difficult person to talk to. You just wanted to feel like you could still do what you want in your life and not feel trapped just because you agreed to this plan. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, “I’m sorry for exploding on you like that too. I should have been more discreet. I wasn’t thinking right.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” Joe replied. “You have every right to go out there and meet people too.”

You nodded your head. “But… I’m serious about being done with this, Joe. I don’t think I could do this anymore. The plan worked. Ivy wants you back, and I think it’s time for us to stop this.”

Joe nodded his head in understanding. This wasn’t how he wanted it to end, but he also didn’t want to force you into this anymore.

“I understand.” Joe said. “It’s just that…I was wondering if you wanted to come to the film festival this weekend. I told my manager to put you on the list just in case.”

You were weak. 

You couldn’t say no to Joe this one last time, and you were cursing at yourself mentally for being this weak. You could just say no and be done with this but that wasn’t the words that slipped out of your lips. 

“I’ll come.” You agreed. “But this is the last time.”

“Are you sure?” Joe asked. “It’s not a hassle for me to just call them and let them know you’re not coming.”

“I’ll go.” You insisted, giving him a small smile. “It’s already been set up. I’ll go.”

“Okay.” Joe smiled. “I have a few dress options for you. You could pick it yourself.” 

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you grabbed the plate of waffles on the counter and slid it in front of Joe.

“Breakfast?” You asked, making the smile on Joe’s face wider. 

Feeling the air between the two of you become lighter, you both settled into the dining area, bringing the rest of the waffles on the table. It had been a while since the two of you sat at the dining table and ate. Usually, you were alone when Joe wasn’t in town but lately, you two had been going out. During the week, Joe wasn’t home much, so you spent most of the time alone in the flat. It felt nice to sit with him and just be yourself. It had been a long time since you felt like this. 

“So, what are you going to do with Ivy? Are you going to tell her the truth?” You asked. 

Joe shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. “I guess I have to.”

Joe watched you nod your head and ate your waffles quietly. He kept thinking about what he was going to tell Ivy. He didn’t want to tell her that you and him were fake dating. He wanted to tell her the truth and the truth was that he didn’t feel that way about her anymore. That he was done playing with her games. He had focused so much on her that he was starting to hurt the people around him. He was starting to hurt you. 

“Maybe I also need to look for my own flat.” You interrupted his thoughts. 

“What?” Joe knitted his brows. “Why?”

He was right.

He hurt you and now, he was losing you too. 

“I don’t know. I feel like I need to be on my own.” You explained. “Ever since this whole agreement started, it made me realize how irresponsible I am with my decisions and maybe my mum was right. I need to have my own place.”

No.

Joe didn’t want to let you go just yet. 

Not like this. Not when he was ready to let Ivy go and focus on you. Focus on how much he wants to show you how he really felt. 

“Besides, don’t you think it’s better if you ask Ivy to move in with you? It could reassure her that you only want her.”

That was the problem. Joe didn’t want her. 

He wanted you. 

However, he had already crossed your boundaries many times already. Joe knew how much you hated it when you were being forced into doing something you didn’t want to do. 

Who didn’t, right? 

He could see how you made up your mind already, and he only wanted you to be happy. If it meant letting you go like this then, he would do it. 

“I’ll miss having you as a flatmate.” Joe murmured, his voice full of melancholy. 

“I’ll miss you too, and your mad ideas when it comes to relationships.” You both laughed in unison. 

“And pizza night.” Joe raised his brow. “You could never have a fun pizza night without me.”

“But you could have pizza night with Ivy at least.” You stated. 

Suddenly, Joe’s smile faded slowly. The thought of being with Ivy was making him nauseous. He wanted to tell you the truth. That was the least he could do before you leave. He wanted to at least let you know that he wasn’t going back with Ivy. That he was done, and he was sorry for making you do all of this for nothing and end up ruining both of your friendships. 

“Listen—” Joe whispered before getting interrupted by your phone buzzing on the table. 

“Sorry, it’s Sara.” You excused yourself from the table and walked towards the kitchen. 

Joe let out a sigh, leaning back on his chair as he watched you talk on the phone. 

“Yeah, okay.” You said. “I’ll be right there.”

Of course, just when Joe was ready to tell you the whole truth, you couldn’t stay. Maybe it wasn’t the right time if the universe was not giving him this opportunity. Maybe it wasn’t the right idea for him to tell you about how he truly felt.

“Sorry,” You walked back to where he was. “I have to go. Sara needs me, but we’ll talk about the film festival later.”

“Sure.” Joe nodded as you gave him a smile before walking out of the kitchen. 

Given the little conversation and apology, you tried your best to act like everything was okay. That you were fine being friends with Joe. Though, you knew you couldn’t stay in the flat anymore and act like being flatmates with him was a normal thing because at this point, you didn’t know how long you could keep these emotions inside of you. You were just glad that you were saved by Sara’s phone call, and you found yourself sitting in the tube on the way to her place. 

“Hey.” You greeted Sara as she tried to calm a crying Elena on the floor. 

“Oh, thank god!” Sara let out a deep breath as soon as she saw you walk in the door. 

“What’s going on?” You knitted your brows and shifted your eyes at Elena, who was sitting on the floor, hugging the grey otter that you gifted her. 

“She won’t take a nap.” Sara sighed, picking up a crying Elena as you walked over to them.

“Hey,” You cooed, rubbing Elena’s back softly. 

As Elena shifted her eyes towards you, she used the back of her tiny hand to wipe her tears as she finally calmed down a bit. Sara watched as you took Elena in your arms, and she rested her head on your shoulder. Rubbing her back softly, Sara let out a sigh of relief as she saw Elena yawned softly. It didn’t take long until Sara had taken Elena back in her arms and finally put her down for her nap. 

Looking around the living room, you could see all of Elena’s toys scattered all over the floor. You started picking them up and putting them back on the bin as Sara sighed in relief the moment she quietly closed Elena’s bedroom door behind her. She flopped herself on the sofa and rubbed both of her temples. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you set the bin in the corner and sat next to her. 

“It’s been rough lately?” You asked. 

Sara nodded her head. “Who knew this could be so hard?”

You chuckled softly, “Well, if you ever need anything, you could always call me, especially now that I’m moving out.”

Sara’s eyes widened in surprise. “You are? Does Joe know?”

You sighed and nodded your head, “Yeah, we talked about it this morning. Besides, we ended the agreement. It’s better if Ivy moves in with him.”

Sara tilted her head, giving you a look. She could tell that you were hiding something and not just hiding it from her but also denying it to yourself. If you wanted to move out of the flat, Sara knew that you would be happy. That you would be relieved but somehow, you just looked unhappy over the idea of it. 

“Listen…” Sara rolled her eyes as if she didn’t even want to say what she wanted to tell you. “I didn’t want to say this because at the beginning, I thought this whole thing was ridiculous even when Abby tells me that Joe is falling for you…” 

“What do you mean?”

Sara gently scratched her forehead, trying to figure out how to form her words. She honestly didn’t agree with how Joe was treating you, but she also saw the whole thing before her eyes. She couldn’t deny that in front of you. 

“You’re telling me that everything with Joe was just all fake? That those pictures were just acting?”

“Yes, why? What are you trying to say?”

“I could see the way he looked at you in those events. You’re telling me he’s still going back to her?”

“Well, we have to pretend. We have to make it believable.” You argued.

Though, even that argument you were telling Sara wasn’t believable. You didn’t even believe it yourself, but you were too much in denial to be accepting the fact that maybe—just maybe—Joe actually felt something for you. 

“Yeah, I guess but I’ve also seen the way you look at him. Not just in pictures. The way you talk about him. It’s… different.” Sara shrugged. 

“Yeah, but he’s with Ivy and I’m moving out. This is how this thing is going to end.” 

You technically didn’t deny what Sara mentioned. You just wanted this conversation to be over because even if you felt something for Joe, he still chose to be with Ivy. This was the whole reason why this whole thing started. It was because Joe wanted Ivy. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sara asked.

You tilted your head at her as she continued, “Can you please stop being so afraid of letting someone good in your life for once? Please, for once, listen to what your heart is telling you. You know, it’s okay to unravel your walls to someone. You deserved to be loved too.”

“Love is a big word, Sara.” You awkwardly laugh at the thought.

You didn’t know how to react to what your best friend just told you. So, you masked it with a small joke.  Just like what you always did because you could never face your feelings all the time. Let alone face the fact that Joe actually cared about you. 

“Seriously, stop using Abby’s instagram if you want to quit social media.” You added, laughing softly. 

Sara couldn’t help but laugh, “I can’t help it. Your little fake love story got me hooked.”

“Well, that’s enough because this fake love story is over.” 

You stared down at your lap and played with your fingers. Sara could see the melancholy in your eyes even if you didn’t say anything. Besides the fact that Joe could be so dumb over his decisions towards this situation lately, Sara could see that he cared for you. That despite everything that happened, she knew that he never meant to make you feel like this. 

“Maybe a real one is starting.” Sara murmured as you gazed up and saw the warm smile on her face. 

You puffed out a breath as you grabbed one of the throw pillows and threw it at her, making the both of you laugh softly. After helping Sara clean up the house a little bit more, you decided to make your way back home. This weekend was going to be the last event you would be attending with Joe, and you wondered what he would tell his team and Ivy as to why you both aren't together anymore. At this point, you only had one worry in your mind, which was to focus on finding a new flat. London flats were expensive these days, and you just hoped you would be lucky enough to find one that you could afford alone. 

When the weekend came, you had found yourself at the film festival’s after party. Some industry friends of Joe’s had recognized you and made small talks. Although, you weren’t too talkative tonight. So a little bit after, you made your way towards the bar and ordered yourself a drink and to give yourself a break from the conversations you were having. Joe, on the other hand, was busy talking with his other friends from across the room, and you couldn’t help but notice how he kept looking back at you. 

As you drank your martini, you also noticed one thing that was missing tonight. Not a thing, but a person. Ivy wasn’t around, and you haven’t seen her at all ever since the both of you arrived. 

“Hey, sorry. I was just finishing the conversation with my friends.” Joe walked up to you next to the bar and ordered himself a glass of martini. 

“Are you having fun or you’re totally bored at this party?” Joe chuckled. 

“Actually, not too bad.” Your eyes scanned the room before your eyes fell back on Joe. “Although, I don’t see Ivy anywhere.”

“She’s not here. She’s a model not an actor.” Joe smiled.

You raised your brow at him, giving him a side eye and said, “Then, why did you bring me here if she wasn’t even invited?”

Joe leaned against the bar and moved closer to you, “I brought you here because I wanted you to come. I want you to come here and just be yourself for once. No pretending. Just you.”

“So, just as your flatmate?” You raised your brow, your eyes staring deep into his. 

Joe nodded his head, his eyes never leaving yours as he took a sip of his martini. You couldn’t help but chuckle and shake your head, looking away from him. Joe’s eyes never left you as you scanned the room and when your eyes caught his again, you saw a small smile tugging on his lips and that look was all over his face. It made you melt and weak in the knees, but you tried to fight against the feeling that was washing over you right now. 

“Listen…” Joe cleared his throat. “I know this is probably our last time doing this, but I want to thank you for everything. For doing this with me. I know it’s crazy, but it wasn’t just because the plan worked, but I had fun, and I got to know you better.”

“Don’t go all cheesy on me now, Quinn.” You laughed softly.

Masking your feelings really was on a roll for you tonight. You watched as Joe held out his hand in front of you. Furrowing your brows and curious as to where he was going to take you, you took his hand in yours as he led you through the crowd. The noise of the party slowly faded behind you as he opened one of the private lounge doors and dragged you inside with him. 

“Oh no.” You teased him. “Is this the part where you have to get rid of me now?”

Joe laughed softly, locking the door before turning to you. He took small steps towards you, and his chocolate button eyes were trying to find yours as you took in the fancy four walls that were surrounding the both of you. 

“For once, could you stop acting like you are hiding every emotion of yours there?” Joe murmured. 

As you turned your attention back to him, you found Joe’s face was inches from yours, making you hitch your breath. 

“I…I’m not.” You whispered, barely could get your words out of your lips. 

Joe raised his brow at you, a playful smile tugged on his lips. “Yes, you are.”

You avoided every eye contact that Joe was trying because this was starting to be a dangerous territory. You didn’t know what exactly he was doing or trying to get out of you, but you couldn’t be here any longer. You couldn’t be in this room with Joe because this was wrong. He was supposed to be with Ivy, right? He belongs with her. Not with you. 

“Hey,” You felt his soft fingers under your chin as he turned your head to face him. 

Fuck.

You were so weak for him. 

Your hands gently slid up on his chest, your eyes staring into his. You couldn’t find the words. You needed to tell him to stop this. That this was wrong! But how come you couldn’t? How come at the same time, this felt right? Your fingers softly played with the collar of his shirt, your eyes just staring at your fingers rubbing the fabric of his shirt softly. You couldn’t look at him because you didn’t know what you would do if you did. 

“Just let go for once.” Joe whispered, his voice so soft and gentle.

Your eyes suddenly gazed up into his chocolate button eyes. They were soft and only for you. His nose gently brushed against yours, making you close your eyes. You could feel both of your breaths as Joe cupped your cheek with his other hand. Sara’s advice a few days ago had lingered in your mind. If Joe wanted Ivy, why was he here with you? Why was he here giving you this look like he wanted you instead? 

You swallowed every guilt that was washing over you as you felt Joe’s lips softly brushed against yours. He didn’t kiss you fully yet. He was so gentle, and you felt like he was testing the waters before he could fully give himself to you. However, you didn’t let him linger on for too long as you pressed your lips deeply against his, kissing him passionately. 

“Joe…” You pulled away breathless after a few seconds, your guilty thoughts reeling inside your mind. “This wasn’t part of the plan, remember?” 

You could literally hear your breath shaking as Joe stared at you and whispered, “Good because I want this to be real.” 

That was the last thing that Joe could say to convince you to accept these feelings that you have been having for him. Letting his fingers ran through your hair, he kissed you deeply. Both of your lips moved together, and you were flying. You let every emotion that you had finally washed over you and let go of everything that was stopping you before. Gently pushing you against the wall, Joe pinned your wrists above your head, both of you kissing each other breathlessly like you both were so hungry for each other for a long time. 

Yes, you have been wanting this. Yes, you have been thinking about this moment with Joe, and you were finally here. You were kissing Joe. Your flatmate. Your “fake boyfriend” that you now just realized had trusted for a year now with all the dark and light secrets you have inside of you. He was the one who understood you when your parents tend to nag you about bringing a boyfriend home. The one person who comforted you when you burst into tears at your parents’ house and understood every bit and every dark corner of your mind. 

Letting Joe’s lips trailed down your neck, you couldn’t help but let out small moans that made Joe smile through your skin. Those little noises you made just for him made him pull you close against him, his fingers finding the zipper on the back of your dress. Letting the strap from your dress fall, his lips planted soft kisses on your bare shoulder, making you let out a sigh in happiness. Your fingers ran softly through his curls as you let out another soft moan when he started kissing you passionately again. 

You wanted to let yourself be loved by someone for once, and you want to love someone with all your heart. You wanted to let go and take Sara’s advice but how come your mind couldn’t just accept that? How come it had to start reeling with questions as to why Joe was doing this? Why was he here kissing you and not Ivy? What was going on? 

“Joe…” You murmured, pulling away from him. “I… This… This isn’t right.”

You immediately fixed the strap of your dress and zipped the back of your dress. Joe’s worried eyes studied you as he held your hands in his. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He tried to find your eyes, but you couldn’t look at him.

Guilt was washing over you, and you couldn’t believe that you had crossed this line. This wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t part of the agreement nor you should have done this at all. 

“You still want Ivy.” You stated. “I don’t want to be the second choice.”

“You’re not a second choice.” Joe shook his head, finding your eyes. “Hey, you’re never a second choice.”

Joe was trying to convince you, but your thoughts were winning, and you didn’t believe him. 

“Joe, you did all this for months to get her back.” You argued, walking towards the door and unlocking it. “You have her now. You don’t have to do this with me. You’re supposed to be with Ivy and that’s that.”

“Wait,” Joe softly grabbed your wrist, but you couldn’t look at him any second longer.

Opening the door, you walked back out of the party and out into the lobby and out the double doors of the building. You could hear Joe calling your name and his footsteps trying to catch up to you, but it was too late. You got inside the cab, and Joe stood in the middle of the road, watching the cab drove off. 

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf

[forasecondtherewedwon]

how to cook the loch ness monster

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairing: Harry Crosby/Joseph "Bubbles" Payne Rating: T Word Count: 2178

Summary: If there’d been one, why not two? It was a big sky. Such a big, big sky, and Crosby clamped his eyes shut and listened hard to hear another plane, or one man breathing inside it, or little bubbles of air bobbing in a snow globe.

Or, Bubbles' plane lands after Rosenthal's.

Crosby lived in a wacky reality where heroes outnumbered regular guys a hundred to one. He was one of the regular guys and didn’t mind it. They’d never forget him when they were handing out beers for a toast, but he’d never be the subject of that toast, and that was alright. He wasn’t an ace pilot or blessed with a movie-star face—or both, like Major Cleven—but he was always present, mostly punctual, and able to plot a course about as well as the next navigator. Unless that navigator was Bubbles, whom Crosby admired very much.

And it was possible to admire a man who was simultaneously quick at the chart and possessed of unorthodox beliefs and superstitions. The snow globe was only the tip of the faux-winter iceberg; Bubbles had spoken more than once about taking a leave, the two of them, to go up to Scotland and see if they couldn’t catch themselves a lake monster. Not only did Bubbles believe Nessie could be reeled in, he believed she could be barbecued. Crosby had seen his papers. Where other men wrote letters, Bubbles made calculations based on meat mass and grilling area. They were precise, and this didn’t alarm Crosby, because it was exactly the sort of thing Bubbles was best at. If they could’ve coated the bombs in seasoning, Bubbles would’ve flamed and flavoured every airbase and railyard in western Germany.

Really, Crosby never saw himself as a hero, not even as another character in that kind of story, unless it were something a little more offbeat. He did sometimes think he was a Watson type—a Watson to Bubbles’ Holmes. Bubbles always knew what was actually going on, and Crosby staked his faith on it, tripping along two steps behind but eager to see the solution revealed, and glad for the friend.

When he was promoted, he thought, Well, how the hell ’m I supposed to Watson him from here? They’d always been in two different planes, but at least they’d been off on the same adventures, facing the same risks. Crosby hadn’t signed up to be a long-distance Watson. There was nothing for it though; you didn’t just throw a promotion back in your superior’s face and insist you be allowed to get shot-up and flakked to shit with the rest. You didn’t do that to yourself, to your wife, to the rest of the men who didn’t have the luxury of an offered post on-base. You sat in your office, and thought of the jeep at your disposal, and wore a jacket instead of a parachute.

There was so much time to think while Bubbles was gone, flying to Münster. Crosby rubbed his hands together—slowly, repeatedly—and remembered coming back from the dead, as he and the rest of Blakely’s crew had been treated. It had been like getting home after a long day of work. He’d been exhausted, vaguely proud when the boys alternately praised and mocked his navigation skills. He hadn’t felt like he’d survived in any special way until he’d seen Bubbles. Then, of course, he’d realized. There might never have been another instance of Bubbles spotting him in a room and making a beeline, never another embrace with the slap of Bubbles’ hand on the back of his leather jacket. Never another Bubbles and Crosby, his name first.

Finally, the squadron was almost due back. He joined the others waiting on the tower, falling into the anxious formation of sailors’ wives looking out to sea. Crosby would’ve killed for a pair of binoculars. He wished he’d checked his office, but he hadn’t, not anticipating that this would be the hardest part of the wait: the final margin of time in which the planes could reasonably return. He crossed his arms and chewed his lip and wondered if he’d get better at this too, like he’d gotten better at coming up with coordinates.

His ears did what his eyes couldn’t, picking out an aircraft’s mechanical hum. But the fellows from the 390th reported no sign of the 100th. Crosby wasn’t a violent man—a ridiculous assessment of himself to hold on to, maybe, being at war—but he wanted to deck whatever man had said it, and deck him again for being wrong when Rosenthal came into view. Rosenthal made contact with the tower, and an ambulance was dispatched. Still, Crosby stayed aloft. He gripped the railing. If there’d been one, why not two? It was a big sky. Such a big, big sky, and Crosby clamped his eyes shut and listened hard to hear another plane, or one man breathing inside it, or little bubbles of air bobbing in a snow globe.

At last, a second, distant drone. He opened his eyes. First, he tried not to hope, then he hoped so hard he thought he’d be sick. He turned to Major Kidd and tried not to sound like he was begging.

“The nose? Can you make out the nose?”

Kidd lifted the binoculars back up to his eyes.

“Red…”

Crosby smacked his hand down on the railing in triumph and let out a wet laugh, pinched the end of his nose when he felt a prickle of emotion.

He could’ve stayed and waited to see if there would be more planes, but he remembered he had access to a jeep and tore towards the stairs.

“Where the hell’s Croz going?” Colonel Harding barked.

Crosby heard Kidd explain in just two words: “She’s Gonna.” Crosby loved those words, thought they were the best words ever invented.

He zipped the jeep out onto the hardstand with a speed and a turn that tossed him against the door. He was too oblivious to his surroundings, and realized he had to floor it because he’d pulled out in front of the ambulance headed to Bubbles’ plane. He didn’t consider that it could be for Bubbles, that Bubbles might be dead or dying after going all that way and coming back again. No. He would be fine, Crosby decided, giving a wave to Rosenthal as he raced past him without stopping. They would all be fine.

Getting as close as he could to the men straggling out onto the runway, Crosby threw the jeep into park and tumbled out. He dodged a pair helping one another towards the ambulance that had just stopped behind him and ducked under the belly of the plane. She’s Gonna looked… well, she looked like she’d been through a war. Crosby came out the other side staring up at the pointillism painting the Luftwaffe had made of the wing—medium: bullets on metal. And then there was Bubbles.

He was examining the plane, same as Crosby’d been, remarking on the damage to another crewman.

“Wing, shming,” Bubbles pronounced. “You got two a’ them, only one a’ me.”

“And the wings don’t know their east from their west,” Crosby said.

Bubbles spun ’round. If Crosby’d never gotten to see him smile like that again, it would’ve been too bad. The other airman knew to give them space.

“Hey, buddy,” Bubbles said.

They hugged hard, and when Crosby drew back, it wasn’t possible to hide that a few tears had leaked from his eyes.

“What’s this for?” Bubbles demanded. “I didn’t make you wait like you made me!”

“You’re the last plane,” Crosby pointed out.

“Yeah, outta two!”

They both sobered at that. Tentatively, Bubbles hugged him again. His head tipped gently against Crosby’s.

“It was pretty bad up there,” Crosby guessed.

“It was hell,” Bubbles answered.

They kept their hands on each other’s shoulders as they pulled apart, and Crosby inspected his friend’s face with a frown.

“You broke your nose?” he guessed, taking in the swelling at Bubbles’ bridge, the blood that seemed to have been half-wiped from his mustache, and the bruising rolling in like grey-violet thunderclouds below his eyes.

Bubbles touched his nose and winced.

“Damn flak. Blasted us off-kilter and I went down face-first. Got the blood on the charts, if you wanna see.”

“I believe you,” Crosby promised. “Why don’t you see if they can do anything for you before you go into interrogation?”

“Maybe straighten my nose up, but I gotta feeling the rest a’ my face is gonna have to stay the way it is.”

“Ah, you win some, you lose some, pal.”

Crosby couldn’t help taking another look at the beat-up plane before he clapped Bubbles on the shoulder and steered him over to the medics.

—

Everybody headed for the bar after interrogation, but Crosby hung back when Bubbles did.

“I think I just want the quiet,” Bubbles explained. “And a shower. Wash all this grime off a’ me.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Crosby assured him.

Bubbles’ gaze darted down, then sprang back up.

“Would ya stay with me?”

Crosby was more stunned by how close Bubbles’ earnest expression was to fearful than by the request, but he found himself echoing, “Stay with you?”

“Never mind.” Bubbles tried a smile that didn’t stay in place. “Why dontcha go have a drink, Croz?”

“Nah.” Crosby thought about making an excuse, even a joking one, but he didn’t. There was no appeal in falsifying a reason to stay with his best friend when the fact of Bubbles being his best friend stood alone. Might as well be clear. If something did take them away from one another—Bubbles shot down over there, Crosby killed by a bombing back here—he wouldn’t think, At least Bubbles never saw the depth of my sincerity about our friendship.

Bubbles had said he wanted quiet, and he got it in spades; the barracks were a ghost town. Rows of empty racks where the same men would never sleep again, empty cubbies for kit bags. There were only the things the men had left. Crosby noted tidy decks of playing cards, novels that had been tossed down with splayed pages to save a place that wouldn’t be returned to. There were cigarettes other men might smoke, and vacant hooks where other jackets would hang. Worst, he saw letters that would go unanswered, left on pillows or tucked between the pages of a book. He glanced continually at Bubbles as they walked to the showers, knowing he would’ve been the one to write the letter telling his family that he hadn’t made it back, just as Bubbles had done for him.

Crosby rested against a sink as water from a single nozzle pattered in the communal shower. He didn’t want to think about how quiet it was, how the shower was a thin and lonely sound, but that was impossible. The room used to ring with conversation, groan like an amphitheatre of ancient Greeks watching a tragedy when the hot water ran out. Bucky hadn’t often adopted the role of disciplinarian, but if the hot water hadn’t run out and they’d lingered too long, he’d started singing to make them leave. Crosby smiled at the ground as he remembered.

But then Bubbles made a sound. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it bounced off the tiles and reached Crosby’s attentive ears, primed by the bombers. He walked into the showers and saw Bubbles rubbing a standard bar of soap across his upper back. He’d mentioned getting thrown around during the flakking, and now Crosby saw more bruising. It wasn’t the end of the world, but Crosby winced to think how tender Bubbles’ skin must have been, and that his shoulders must’ve ached deeper than that judging by how stiffly Bubbles moved.

“Bubbles?” Crosby asked, so his friend wouldn’t be embarrassed—not by his nudity, but by Crosby standing there.

Bubbles turned his head and offered a weak smile.

“Still here?”

“You asked me to be,” Crosby said simply, softly. He nodded at Bubbles’ injuries. “Hurts?”

“Not too bad.”

“Let me,” Crosby said, shaking his head and rolling up his shirt sleeves as he advanced.

“It’s not altruism,” he added before Bubbles could say anything. “I suffer too if you stink.”

“If someone comes…”

“They’re not,” Crosby said. They stared at each other sadly. “Gimme the soap, Bubbles.”

So Bubbles hung his head under the spray, and Crosby took the soap. He ran it across the back of his friend’s shoulders as lightly as he could, and when even that made the muscles in Bubbles’ back tense up in pain, Crosby worked the bar over and over between his palms and washed Bubbles’ watercolour skin with his bare hands, touch so delicate it tickled his fingertips. Bubbles’ shoulders began to convulse. Then the sobs came, and Crosby took a step forward and rested his cheek on the back of Bubbles’ neck, slick with suds. His heart was pounding as the water soaked his hair and his shirt stuck to Bubbles’ wet skin. He didn’t try to explain his behaviour to himself, or start writing this scene out in his head as it happened, as he frequently did. Crosby wrapped his arms around Bubbles, strapped himself to his best friend like he was his parachute, and held on.

[thearchmanofgreenfield]

All five of them were so caught by surprise that Lucian almost feel over. For a moment, he was convinced that it was his father, it took him a few seconds to register that the voice sounded more childish than any adult voice. But he wasn’t the only one, for he saw even saw Joe jerk his head and take a step back.

“AH!” they all said in unison. But as Lucian looked at the entrance to the hallway he realized who was actually standing there. For at the entrance to the hallway stood Luin, standing straight in a brown shirt and amber coat with a book in his hand. Looking confused as to Lucian and the others reaction.

“What?” he asked tilting his head curiously.

“What are you doing here?” Lucian shouted after taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“That’s what I want to know!” Luin answered back without hesitation. “Isn’t that your father’s study? Why are you trying to break into it?”

“That’s…none of your business!” said Lucian, finding it difficult to come up with a suitable reason to justify his actions. But his response only seemed to make Lucian more curious. Lucian realized he needed to find a way to make him leave. “Why are you awake this early? And what are you doing carrying a book around the house? I thought recluses didn’t like crawling out of their caves,”

“Excuse me!” said Luin, offended by Lucian’s remarks. “But this book isn’t for me, it’s for Elliott. I told him I’d show him of my favorites and see if he shares my taste”

The mentioning of Elliott attracted the attention of the Hatlys, who both looked Luin with confusion. “Elliott? What’s he doing with you? He’s supposed to be asleep,” said Laura. Luin scoffed, “He snuck out of his room and came to see me after you both left him alone. You should know not to do that. It almost seems…negligent”

Both Hatlys seemed to take great offense with that statement. Laura seemed furious. “How dare you accuse us of such things! Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Luin did not waver. “I do. But luckily Elli enjoys my company more than yours. So he was not too sad about it.”

The Hatlys were fuming. But Lucian knew that they didn’t have time to argue. “That’s all well and good, so why don’t you go back to wherever you came from and leave us be!” he said trying to shoo away his annoying cousin.

Luin laughed, which did not make Lucian happy. “Are you daft? Now that I’ve seen what you all are up to why would I just walk away?”

Lucian groaned and rolled his eyes. “What do you want? Do you expect us bribe you, is that it?” to which Luin simply grinned. He then began to walk closer to the group. “Tsk, tsk, dear cousin. Do you really think you can buy me? The fact that you tried confirms to me that what you’re up to isn’t very allowed,”

“Well, whatever we’re doing doesn’t concern you. And if you still wish for me to keep the secret of how you obtained that newspaper then I suggest you walk away and leave us be,” Lucian said, hoping that this might get him to go away. But alas, even this threat seemed to have little effect.

“Oh I doubt either my father or yours would care about an old newspaper when they find out you all have been colluding behind their backs”

The mention of the newspaper seemed to intrigue the others, particularly Joseph and Laura. “Hold on, you got that newspaper from him?” asked Laura.

“Yes”-replied Luin. “I told him I’d paid off the newspaper delivery boy to get me a copy. Now he’s trying to use my words to threaten me! How idiotic,” he said while narrowing his eyes at his cousin.

“Well either way,” Joe interjected, seemingly having had enough of the back and forth. “We do not have time to entertain this bespectacled imp. So either you go and or we make you go,”

Luin sighed. He finally seemed to get the message. He turned around to leave just as Lucian went back to trying to open the door, but stopped midway before turning his head back. “Well I could open that door for you, you know”

As expected, all five of them immediately turned to Luin again. “What?” asked Charlotte, interested in what Luin said. He simply shrugged casually. “I can open that door that you all are so desperately trying to get through. That is, if you let me stay”

Lucian raised his eyebrow. “I thought you said that Elliott was waiting for you,”

“Believe me,” said Luin. “If Elli has any good taste in literature, the books in my room should keep him preoccupied for hours. Besides, no offense to him, but this is far more interesting,”

Luin then approached the door while Lucian stepped aside. Lucian saw him peek his eye through the key hole as though were inspecting it. He then reached into his coat and grabbed a piece of wood shaped like a key.

“What are you doing?” Lucian asked, not understanding Luin’s train of thought.

“Something I learned from one of my adventure books,” said Luin while keep his focus on the lock. Lucian saw him insert the key into the key hole. He was still confused as to what he was attempting to do but then he saw him wave his hand close to the wooden key. He saw the wooden key break apart as Luin moved his fingers. He then saw the key change into a different shape. Lucian and the others watched with puzzlement as Luin turned the key and the lock opened. Luin turned the doorknob and swung open the door, leaving Lucian and the others both impressed and confused. Lucian looked at the key as Luin took it out; he saw that it looked completely different to what it looked like when Luin first inserted it.

“Clever,” he admitted. “You reshaped the key while it was still in the lock. I didn’t know you could do that,”

“Of course you didn’t” said Luin smugly. “I wouldn’t expect you to know something so basic even though you’re older than me,”

“Well at least I have some semblance of existence outside that library,” Lucian retorted. It seemed as though they were about to enter another argument. But fortunately the others seemed to have run out patience at that point.

“Well in any case, the door is open. So I suggest we go inside,” Joe interjected. He then swiftly pushed Lucian and Luin aside and went inside. Willow and the Hatly sisters followed him.

“So, what other rooms can you unlock using this?” asked Willow, stopping momentarily. Luin shrugged, “Theoretically can enter any room I please, as long as the lock can be turned by a wooden key”

“Hmmm,” Lucian heard Willow mummer as she walked into the room. Lucian walked in behind her with Luin being the last to enter. Luin then closed the door behind him.

Inside, the room itself was rather extravagant. The walls were dark red with a dark wood trim going along the bottom connecting it to the wooden floor. The room was quite large, with the centerpiece being a long mahogany table placed over an ornate carpet. Next to the table was an unlit fireplace and next to the fireplace was a thin bookshelf. Behind the table was also a window looking out onto the open street. However, the room’s most striking features was located above the fireplace. It was a portrait, large and detailed, showing Lucian’s current family. It hung above the mantel in an almost imposing manner, with nine faces including Lucian, Lily, the twin and his parents standing towards one side with his father holding a large almost six foot tall gold trident in his hands. Grandfather Wren was sitting in a chair in the center and Luin along with Lucian’s Uncle David standing on the other side of the portrait. They all stood staring at the center of the room in an intimidating fashion.

As they entered, Lucian noticed Joe’s attention immediately fixate on something situated on the other side of the room. He looked to see what it was and realized there was small steel safe, about two feet tall, tucked behind the table. Joseph immediately went to it, Lucian saw him fiddle around with the dial at the front while keeping his ear on the door, but it seemed as though his efforts were met with no results.

“What are you doing?” asked Charlotte.

“Trying to open this box” said Joe, “If Demon’s father was going to hide something, it would be right to assume he would hide it here”

The Hatlys sisters then joined him in trying to unlock the box. Meanwhile, Lucian saw Willow go and inspect the desk, where several books laid outstretched. But amidst all of this Lucian noticed Luin eye the bookcase suspiciously. Which once again confused him.

“What is it?” he asked raising his eyebrow.

“This bookcase, it seems…too neat” said Luin. Which did not make Lucian any less confused. “What do you mean ‘too neat’?” he asked, seeing that the bookcase had several books out of place and several books taken out of it and put on the table.

“Will you both stop discussing nonsense and help us open this?” asked Laura, seemingly getting frustrated at the fact that the safe would not open.

“There is something odd afoot here. It cannot be as simple as one safe,” said Luin, still pondering while staring at the bookcase.

“How would you know?” asked Charlotte. “Well, in my adventure books, no secret ever comes as easy as cracking a safe. There is always something hidden somewhere”

“Well WE do not live in a novel!” said Laura. Trying several different combinations. “There isn’t always a hidden layer of complexity to every trivial thing! So are you going to help us or not?”

Lucian heard Luin mummer under his breath. “Don’t forget who got you here in the first place,” then Willow spoke up, “But he does have a point” she said while holding an old book.

“What do you mean?” asked Lucian. Willow waved her hand and gestured him come closer. Lucian approached the table. Willow then directed him towards a book on the table. A book with a black leather over with gold letters. Lucian read the title written on the spine of the book, which read ‘The Circulion Code of Law’.  The outstretched book showed a page titled ‘The Higher-Circulion Official Confidentiality Act’. Lucian then looked at the book Willow was holding, the title read ‘Codes of Transmission and Communication’ and it showed to a page titled ‘The Circulion Cipher’.

“What is all this?” Lucian asked, scratching his head in confusion. “It seems like your father was trying to solve a code,” said Willow holding a sheet of paper up to Lucian’s face. Lucian looked at the paper and saw that it was full of half-scribbled letter and numbers, the meanings of which he did not know.

“It appears your father was deciphering something in that letter. According to the Code of Law, letters written under the Higher-Circulion Official Confidentially Act are written in Muso-Numeral Code. But I can’t find any code like that in this book” she said flipping through the book.

“So what? The letter is unsolvable. Undecipherable?” asked Lucian. Willow shrugged, “To know that we must find the letter”

“A letter that, may I remind you, is in this safe!” Joe exclaimed still being unable to open the safe.

“I am telling you that that’s not the right safe!” said Luin. “It cannot be that simple!”

Joe seemed to lose his patience. He stopped turning the combination lock and shot Luin a malicious glare. “I feel as though you have spent too much time dwelling in imaginary fantasies. If you wish to frivolously search for non-existent secrets then suggest you don’t pester us about it!” he then turned his attention to Lucian, “I suggest you control your little cousin. He’s only here because we let him be here”

Lucian saw Luin give him a sad look. But he simply shook his head. Luin seemed to take that personally since he switched his expression to anger before huffing and making his way over to the bookcase. Lucian then saw him turn the books one by one and truthfully, he found it quite intriguing.

“You’ll see. You’re wasting your time with the obviously fake safe,” he said aggressively flipping through the books. Joe chuckled, “We’ll see,”

Lucian and Willow exchanged glances and shrugged. Lucian saw the Hatly sister’s roll their eyes. Suddenly, when Luin flipped a book on the third shelf of the bookcase, Lucian heard an ominous clang. Like the sound of a gear turning. Then it was followed by a clank and the sound of screeching. Luin took a few steps back and gasped with joy as the sounds of machinery continued. Lucian followed the sound, as it seemed to travel through the wall from the bookcase to the mantel. He then heard the sound of something unlatching and, to his surprise; he saw the portrait above the fireplace move.

However, Luin did not waste any time. He quickly walked up to the portrait and pulled it, opening it like a small door revealing something hidden behind the painting. Lucian’s jaw dropped and so did the jaws of all the others. Joe looked scandalized. But Luin simply gave them a smug look of triumph.

“HA, see! I told you it was not that simple! That safe is most likely a decoy, made to deter would-be thieves like you all!” he said beaming with joy. Lucian had rarely seen him so happy while being outside the library. But Joe wasn’t about to admit anything. He simply straightened himself and looked down on Luin.

“I suppose the bespectacled imp can do something useful after all,” he said in a rather condescending that Lucian did not condone. He frowned at Joe and expressed his displeasure but Joe didn’t care. Meanwhile it was clear that Joe’s comment had hurt Luin, but not enough to make him waver. He simply stood with a smug grin on his face whilst the rest of the group focused their attention on the new safe.

Lucian noticed that this safe also had a combination lock. It was plated with gold and next to it was a golden handle. Above both on those was the symbol of the House of Demon, etched into the metal and embroidered with yet more gold.

“Well how are we supposed to open this?” asked Charlotte.

“Step aside” said Joe pushing Lucian and the others aside. He walked up to the safe and placed his ear on the door. “Let’s try this now,” he said as began to turn the dial. But after a few moments he took his ear off the safe and looked at it, baffled.

“That’s odd,” he said. “I can’t hear any locks turning”

“Hmm” scoffed Luin. “Perhaps your marvelous hearing isn’t as perfect as you boast”

Joseph shot a look of utter rage at Luin. Luin returned the same look. Meanwhile Lucian looked at the safe. His suspicious gaze fell on the symbol etched onto the metal. He then looked at the top of the mantel. He noticed that were a few suspicious red stains on it. Like raindrops.

“I have an idea,” he said suddenly. All eyes then turned to him. “What do you mean?” asked Laura.

“I need something sharp, like a needle or some other thing,” Lucian said hastily. The others looked at him with confused looks but luckily, they decided to listen. The Hatly sisters, Luin and Willow all started to look around the room for something sharp.

“What’s your plan here?” asked Joe, doubtfully.

“Perhaps that dial is also a decoy,” said Lucian. He then placed his hand on the symbol. “Perhaps the key is in this symbol. Perhaps we need to use the Flame to open it”

“A Flame Lock? Hmmm, interesting” said Joe, still doubtful. But Lucian didn’t care. “Well, it’s worth a try. And for that, I’m going to need the Blue Lantern hanging above the door to the great hall”

Joe raised his eyebrow. “What? You want me to get it?” Lucian nodded. Joe still looked as though he did not believe Lucian. But luckily, Lucian didn’t need to do any more convincing as Luin chimed in at that very moment, “I could get it for you!” he said like an enthusiastic army recruit.

“You can?” asked Lucian. Luin nodded enthusiastically. He then turned around and ran out of the room. But no before grinning smugly at Joe before leaving.

“Looks like the imp is more helpful than you” said Lucian smugly. Joe frowned at him. But he didn’t yell, for shortly after that, Willow came once again with a quill in hand.

“Try this,” she said handing the quill to Lucian. “I took out all the ink, but it’s a bit blunt. You might want to sharpen it,”

Lucian looked at the quill. He concentrated. And before his eyes we saw the tip of the quill move and slide to become a sharp point. He then held the quill with the tip facing his finger. He took a deep breath and with all his courage, he stabbed the quill directly into his finger. A small but irritating pain immediately came to his mind. But he tried to ignore the as he took the tip of the quill out of his finger and watched as small stream of blood oozed from the place he had stabbed. Lucian then took another deep breath and proceeded to place his bleeding finger on the symbol. He then proceeded to draw the symbol using his own blood.

After he was done, he took his hand away before covering it to prevent any further bleeding. The others looked at him with concerned expressions.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Laura. Lucian didn’t answer. He and the others then waited for the Blue Lantern. Lucian was partially concerned that Luin might be caught while taking the lantern. But he quashed those worries with the confident assumption that Luin’s mouth could get him out of any predicament.

After a few minutes of restless waiting, the door swung open and Luin entered the room with the blue lantern floating a few feet above him. “It took me a while to get it passed the adults. They nearly saw me taking the…” he said but Lucian just restlessly gestured him to give him the lantern. He lowered the lantern and Lucian grabbed it. He then held the flames up to the blood he painted on the safe.

Immediately, the blood erupted into bright blue fire and disappeared within a flash. Lucian put away the lantern and, after taking a deep breath, turned the latch on the door. And, to his relief and the relief of the others, it opened.

“That…worked?” asked Charlotte.

Lucian pulled the safe open all the way and he and the others all peered inside. Lucian was expecting something quite valuable or something of great importance. But to his shock he found it mostly empty with its contents on consisting of a single white envelope with a broken wax stamp.

“There it is!” said Willow. She pushed her way to the safe and grabbed the letter. The others crowded around her as she opened the envelope and took out the paper inside it.

“What does it say?” asked Laura.

Lucian saw Willow read the letter. Her expression went from one of curiosity to one of slight confusion. “Hmm, it appears we were right about the code,” she said raising her eyebrow while viewing the letter from several angles. She then sighed and handed the letter to Lucian, who grabbed it eagerly and looked at it.

To the Baron Henry Demon, written by [WITHHELD] on the 286th Day of the year 634 AF. Muso-Numeral coded in accordance with the Higher-Circulion Official Confidentiality Act as per the Circulion Code of Law.

F3.D3.A1.B2.F3.A3.D3.E3:A1.F2.A3.G2.G1:G3.E3-E3.B3.D4.B2.G2.G1:F1.A3.D3:F3.A2.E1:A3.D3.D1.E1.D3-F2.A1.D4.A3.D3.E3:D1.E1.A1.F3.A2:F1.A3.B2.E2.E1.D1-B3.E2.A1.G2.G2.B2.G2.G1:B2.G2.E3.G3.D3.D3.E1.C1.F3.B2.A3.G2-E3.G3.E3.B3.E1.C1.F3.B2.G2.G1: F3.A2.E1:G1.G3.B2.E2.D1.E3- D3.E1.F3.D3.E1.A1.F3:F3.A3:E3.A1.F1.E1.F3.D4—

B1D4:C2G3E2B2G3E3—

At first glance, it wasn’t what Lucian was expecting. In all honesty, he was mildly unimpressed.  “Hmm, we need to find out how to solve this,”

“We could take the letter to our library. I bet there is a book that could help us,” suggested Laura.

“But we can’t steal the letter!” said Willow. “If the adults come back and find it missing then we’ll be done for!”

“You all might want hasten your pace” Luin interjected. “Why is that?” asked Joe. Luin looked at the ground and rubbed his feet on the ground. “Umm… I might have overheard the adults talking while I got the lantern. And they might be coming here at this very moment”

The room went silent. “What?” they all said in unison. “And why didn’t you tell us this earlier?” asked Charlotte.

“How could I?” he protested. He then whispered under his breath, “When you are too busy ogling a simple letter,”

“Well what do you suppose we do?” asked Joe.

“We could copy the letter!” Laura suggested. “On a piece of paper or cloth. That way we don’t need to steal it,”

Lucian saw Charlotte glance at her sister for a moment before turning back and saying. “She’s right, that could work!”

The others shrugged. But Lucian knew that they didn’t have time to argue. “Fine, I suggest we find some paper. And Luin,” he said turning to his cousin, “Go stay outside and warn us if the adults arrive”

Luin shrugged but obeyed. Lucian heard him mutter, “Not like it would make any difference, we’re done for the moment they appear in the hallway,” under his breath while he walked. The rest of the group then scoured the room for writing material. Lucian handed Willow the letter and he too began searching. Laura gave Willow the quill that Lucian had used to prick his finger. Charlotte took out a bottle of ink from one of the drawers of the table and Joe found paper in the other drawer. Willow then kept the paper on the table, quenched the quill in the ink and quickly copied the letter as fast as she could. He let go of the quill and let it scribble away whilst standing by itself, it wrote faster that way. Meanwhile, Lucian and the others watched restlessly, the threat of being caught loomed over their heads more and more as time went on. Lucian looked back and forth between Luin and Willow.

“Is there any future where we get caught?” he asked Willow as she wrote.

“I cannot say for certain, but in my experience the number of futures where we do get caught would increase exponentially every passing second,” said Willow hastily. She made the quill scribble faster and faster. And seconds later, it stopped moving.

“Done!” Willow shouted joyously. She quickly took the paper off the table and handed it to Joseph who kept in his coat. “Now quickly! Put everything back! We can’t leave the safe open!”

Lucian grabbed the letter off Willow’s hand before throwing it into the safe and closing the door. The Hatlys kept the quill and ink in their proper places while Joseph rearranged the bookcase and activated the mechanism that made the painting close.

“Quickly! I think I hear someone climbing the stairs!” said Joe, which further hastened the group’s pace. Lucian launched himself out of the door the moment the painting closed with the Hatlys, Joe and Willow coming out moments later.

“Close the door! Use that key of yours,” said Lucian. Luin nodded, he then closed the door before taking out his wooden key and locking it. The then made their way their way out of the hallway and towards the staircase. The panicked feeling slowly dissipating the further they got from the study.

As they approached the staircase, Lucian heard a sound coming from in front of them, the sound of footsteps. As the rush from their swift getaway faded, he realized that Joe was right. Someone was coming from downstairs. Lucian almost instinctively turned away and entered the hallway leading to the library. The others followed him as the all ducked behind the wall of the hallway.

Lucian watched, as the footsteps got closer and closer. First, he saw his father appear, followed swiftly by Mr. Hatly and Mr. Morrow. Behind them was Mrs. Morning and behind her was Mr. Bernstein and a slim but tall figure Lucian knew to be Mr. Angelmore, Joe’s father. Lucian and the others took a step back as they all watched their parents walk across the room towards the study, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

“Are they gone?” whispered Luin who had been pushed to the back of the group behind Joseph, who completely obscured his view.

“SHHHH!” said Joseph frantically, Lucian saw Mr. Angelmore rear his head in their direction, to which Lucian tried his best to hide behind the wall. Luckily, once he peeked his head over the wall he noticed Mr. Angelmore follow his father and the other adults into the hallway leading to the study. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“They’re gone,” he said. The others then relaxed themselves. But Joe once again stared furiously at Luin.

“What do you think you’re doing? Do you want us to get caught?” he asked. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything!” Luin whined.

“Well, thanks to you my father almost caught us!”

“Well gosh damn it! How idiotic of me!” said Luin sarcastically. “If only you let me see passed your pitiful attire I wouldn’t need to ask such basic questions!”

“You annoying little…” Joe began, but before he could finish Laura grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back. “Will you both please stop? None among us can take more of your incessant arguing!” she said angrily.

Both Luin and Joe paused. Then looked away. Joe straightened himself as Laura gave him a disappointed gaze. But Joe wasn’t done. “I suppose being unbearably annoying must be a family trait, eh Lucian?” he remarked while smirking smugly as Lucian. Lucian saw both Hatlys frown whilst staring at Joe, so he could only imagine what he was actually thinking. Yet Instead of arguing he simply frowned, “We got what we need, that’s all that matters”

“Well true, but who knows? You might still have some secrets you’re yet to share. Hmmm?”

Lucian flinched before momentarily glancing at Laura who glance at him with an expression of surprise. But luckily for him, Joseph didn’t notice that. “Well it has occurred to me that we still have an hour before breakfast. I could go for some tea, anyone else?” he asked walking towards the staircase.

“I would like some!” said Willow rising her hand. She then shot a glance at Lucian while she walked towards Joseph. “I didn’t get to finish the one I had earlier”

Both of them then walked away and climbed down the staircase together. Leaving Lucian with only the Hatlys and Luin. “Sadly, I also need to go,” said Luin. “I still have to meet Elli, and I might even try to solve this letter,” he said holding the letter in his hands and observing it.

“Do you think you can crack it?” asked Charlotte. To which Luin laughed, “Moor knows that this is the most interesting I’ve done all year. And besides, I think I have a better chance than any of you,” he then put the letter in his book before walking towards the stairs. “So if you’ll excuse me, I shall see you in the breakfast,” he said before climbing up the stairs and disappearing.

This left Lucian with only the Hatlys. “I assume you both also have somewhere to be,” he asked quiet awkwardly.

“I personally would like nothing more than some sound sleep! Now that Elli is with your cousin!” said Charlotte. Lucian then turned to Laura. “What about you?”

“The thrill of breaking into your father’s study seems to have knocked all the sleep out of me,” she said. “I suppose I might as well tell all this to the Bernsteins and the Mornings, if they’re awake. Perhaps you can accompany me; I might need some assistance with waking them up”

Lucian’s face came inches away from turning red. “I…I…” he stuttered but luckily Charlotte cut him off. “Well, you both can do whatever you please; I’m off to get some rest well-earned rest! No chance am I helping you two wake up those featherheads!” she said as she marched off to the staircase.

Lucian struggled to open his mouth. But he then took a deep breath and calmed himself, to Laura’s confusion. “Perhaps you can wake them up and we’ll all gather around and talk inside the library,” Lucian suggested. “There’s usually no one there except my grandfather, and he won’t tell a soul! Mostly because he won’t remember anything we say. I could even get us some tea in order to knock them out of their sleep,”

Laura shrugged. “Well I suppose I could drag them here by myself. So be it”. She then turned away in order to leave. But before she did, she stopped. “And if you’re bringing tea, might I suggest you bring something else along with it. I cannot wait another hour for breakfast!”

Lucian nodded and grinned. “I know the place where Lily hides all her treats, I don’t think she’d mind if some went missing. She stole them from the pantry anyway.”

Laura chuckled. They smiled at each other for a moment. Laura then walked off and finally she too disappeared into the stairs. Leaving Lucian alone in the hallway.

Back to Contents- HERE

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hii!! 🤗

your dun!x reader fics they’re so *chefs kiss*

i’d love to see one where tyler is sleeping over and the reader is going through a breakup. and tyler hears the readers muffled sobs so he tries his best to comfort her. just some gooddd fluff 😁

Breakup - Tyler Joseph x Dun!Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Dun!Reader - Platonic

Warnings: Breakup - not with Tyler lol. FLUFF

Word Count: 1404

A/N: WELCOME BACK! Hope you like this one and please request another one! It's not super long but I think it's cute so... 🤷‍♀️

Tom and I had been together for a year and a half when he decided to end things. He asked me out on a "date," knowing full well it would end with us breaking up. Despite spending hours getting ready, hoping to impress him, I came home a wreck.

“It’s just not working anymore,” he said, standing up and leaving me alone in the café. I watched him walk out, sighed, and stared through the window as he drove away. Gripping my coffee, I gave the barista an apologetic smile before heading out. Each step toward my car felt heavier, my lip trembling. The sad playlist in my AirPods matched my mood perfectly, every song amplifying the ache inside. My mind spiraled into a numb mantra: You’re worthless.

Once in the car, I connected my phone to the radio, my fingers fumbling as I pulled up my texts with my brother.

I’m coming home. Tom and I broke up. Please don’t ask. – Me

Ok. I love you. Tyler’s staying over tonight, just so you know. I’ll tell him not to bother you. – Josh

Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. – Me

Your call. Get home safe. – Josh

As the music continued to play, I drove through the now-empty streets of Columbus, the city feeling as desolate as I did. Rain began to pour, each droplet striking the windshield like the tears streaming down my face. Tom had been my person—the one I told everything to. Now, I couldn’t stop wondering: What would he do with all that he knew about me?

The trees blurred together as I sobbed, my chest heaving with the weight of it all. When I finally pulled into the driveway, Josh was waiting on the porch.

“Hey, you,” he said, opening his arms and pulling me into a tight hug. “I know you said not to ask, so I won’t. But I’m here if you need me. Tyler and I will keep our distance. You’ve already eaten, so you can head to bed if you want.”

Josh was the best brother anyone could ask for. He’d always taken care of me, in his own protective way. I tried to smile, but it came out crooked and awkward, making me wish I hadn’t bothered.

“Hey,” he said, gently pulling back to look at me. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

I nodded, adjusted my tote bag, and slipped into the warmth of the house. My gaze stayed glued to the tan carpet as I quietly made my way to my room, shutting the door just enough to hide my tears.

For hours, I lay on my bed, listening to the muffled conversation between Josh and Tyler from the other room. Their voices rose and fell until, around 10:30, Josh finally went to bed. I hadn’t moved from where I lay, sprawled out beneath the huge gray blanket Tyler had given me when I redecorated my room. It was soft, soothing in a way that eased the throbbing in my head. I stared up at the roof of my room, the crushing weight of the breakup causing endless sobs to fall from my mouth. The ‘I love you’s we’d said meant nothing anymore and the darkest truths I’d told him were gone. This wasn’t going to be it, this couldn’t be it for me. I would find someone. Slowly my sobs grew louder as I felt certain both the boys were asleep. 

I couldn’t stop the tears. The more I tried to stifle them, the harder they came, shaking my body as I buried my face into the pillow. I didn’t hear the soft knock at the door until it opened slightly.

“Hey…” Tyler’s voice came in gentle, cautious. “Are you okay?”

I quickly wiped my face and turned away from him, mortified that he’d heard me. “I’m fine,” I managed, though it was clear I wasn’t.

The door creaked open further, and Tyler stepped into the room, his presence bringing a warmth I hadn’t realized I needed. “You don’t have to say you’re fine if you’re not. I can leave, but I just—” he paused, standing awkwardly by the door. “I just didn’t want you to be alone.”

For a moment, I considered asking him to go, letting the walls I’d built around my pain hold strong. But when I glanced over at him, his eyes were soft, full of understanding. Tyler had always been a good friend to both me and Josh, more like family than anything else. Maybe that’s why it felt okay to let him stay.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He moved closer, cautiously sitting down on the edge of my bed. “Wanna talk about it?” Tyler was the therapy friend. Despite having his own issues, Tyler always had the best advice. It was like a gift. He was able to do it in music and he was able to do it in person. I nodded, moving aside so he could climb into the bed with me. “What happened?” 

“You know my boyfriend, Tom?” I started, sniffling slightly. 

“Yeah?” His eyes searched mine. 

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” I rubbed my eyes, tears flowing uncontrollably down my face. Tyler said nothing. He looked around my room and let out a loud sigh. My heart was thumping within my chest and I wanted to run away. 

“Breakups suck,” he said after a long silence, looking straight ahead as if he wasn’t sure if he should even be here.

I nodded, my throat still tight with emotion. “Yeah. They do.”

Tyler exhaled slowly, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve been there. It feels like the world is caving in. Like… nothing makes sense anymore.” He glanced at me briefly before looking away again. “But you’re not worthless. I know it feels like that right now, but you’re not.” Hearing those words made something in me crack. I couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer. I pressed my face into my hands, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions. Without hesitation, Tyler shifted closer, hesitating for just a second before wrapping his arms around me. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t weird—it was just what I needed. A human connection, someone to remind me I wasn’t alone in this pain.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered as I cried into his shoulder. “You’re going to get through this, I promise.” I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, crying into his hoodie as he sat there, rubbing slow circles on my back. Time seemed to blur as the hurt poured out, and for the first time that night, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t completely shattered. When my tears finally subsided, I pulled back, embarrassed by the mess I’d made.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my shirt.

Tyler shook his head. “Don’t apologize for feeling stuff. That’s what makes you human. Plus, I’ve cried harder over a pizza delivery that took too long, so you’re good.”

A small, unexpected laugh bubbled out of me, and Tyler grinned. “There it is,” he said, clearly pleased with himself for breaking through my sadness, even for a moment.

I shook my head, smiling despite the tears still clinging to my lashes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but that’s why you keep me around, right?” He raised an eyebrow, making me laugh again.

For the first time all night, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter, the storm inside me beginning to calm. Tyler leaned back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “it’s going to suck for a while. There’s no sugarcoating that. But you’ve got people who care about you—Josh, me, your friends. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

I nodded, feeling a little steadier, a little more grounded. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he said, giving me a soft smile. “Now, do you want me to stay, or should I head out? No pressure, either way.”

I hesitated for a second, then scooted over slightly. “You can stay. If you want.”

Tyler smiled again and grabbed the spare pillow from the other side of my bed. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

And for the first time since that awful café breakup, I felt a glimmer of hope that things would eventually be okay. Not tonight, not tomorrow, but someday. And until then, I wasn’t alone.

//

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[sweaterkittensahoy]

"A smiles fondly when B starts to blush and draws them closer, allowing them to hide in their embrace" harryjean

[Oh, this was fun. I have a variety of ideas of what Jean is like, and it was nice to figure it out for this one.]

He's the kind of handsome that makes Jean look away quick. Dark hair and big eyes and a sweet smile. Her sister giggles next to her and jabs an elbow in her ribs. 

"The one with the basset hound eyes?" she asks. 

Jean kicks the back of Marion's shoe. "Hush," she says. 

"He's so your type," Marion says. "Shame he's wearing a uniform."

Which. Yes. It should be. Because Jean has promised herself she's not going to run off with some boy in uniform she meets at a Red Cross dance. She hates cliches, and she wants no part in this particular one. 

The man looks around the room, and for just a moment, he meets Jean's eyes. He looks at her, then Marion, then ducks his head. The man he's standing next to–as fair as he is dark–glances over and beams. 

"Oh, now there's a handsome I can enjoy without guilt," Marion says and swishes her skirt. 

Jean wants to kick the back of her foot again, but then the blonde and the other one are coming over, though the dark-haired one looks desperately like he wants to be somewhere else. 

"Ladies, how do you do? I'm Joseph Payne, and this is my friend Harry Crosby."

"I'm Marion," Marion says. "And this is my little sister, Jean."

"Oh, don't call me that," Jean says, rolling her eyes. "You know I hate that."

"Youngest?" Joseph asks. 

"Unfortunately," Jean says. 

Joseph chuckles. "Yeah, me, too. Harry here has two younger sisters, but they like to razz him about being so old."

"Oh?" Jean asks, looking at Harry, who has managed to lift his head and meets her gaze. "How much older are you?"

"Ten and eleven years," Harry says. He has a nice voice. Warm and friendly but not with the slow drawl of Joseph. "My parents always wanted me to have siblings, but I'm not so sure I'd have agreed if they'd asked me." His smile softens the joke, affection clear on his face. "Nah, I don't mean that. They're all right."

"I've got two sisters and three brothers," Joseph says as Jean thinks how sweet Harry must be if he can't even hold a pretend grudge against his sisters. "We are, as I'm sure you figured out, a farm family." 

"Oh, what do you farm?" Marion asks, and Jean shakes her head as Marion steps closer to Joseph and slips an arm into the crook of his elbow. "I'm studying agriculture. I love farming."

Joseph looks at Marion's hand at his elbow, then glances at Harry and Jean. "Well, I'll tell you whatever you'd like while we get punch for all of us if you don't mind helping."

"Not at all," Marion says, and she makes her skirt swish again as she and Joseph turn towards the refreshment table. 

Jean wishes she could stick out her tongue, but she holds it back. She looks at Harry again, who's watching Joseph and Marion walk away with an amused smile on his face. "I should warn you, she isn't actually studying agriculture," she says. "She just says she's studying something a boy's mentioned so she has something to ask questions about."

Harry looks at her and looks amazed. "Wow, that's a neat trick," he says.

"Is it?" Jean asks. She thinks it is, but the other times she's told boys the truth, they've found it dishonest or rude.

"I, um," Harry glances over Jean's shoulder for a moment, then looks her in the eyes again. "I overthink," he says in a low tone like it's some terrible secret. "Especially at stuff like this where you don't know anyone except the fellas you showed up with and need to be able to say something nice to a pretty girl so maybe she'll say yes to a dance later."

Jean feels her face heat up. "Is that why you looked away when you spotted me?" she asks. "You were nervous?"

Harry screws up his face, and Jean giggles when he nods slowly. "That's why Bubbles dragged me over here. He knew if he made the move, I'd get it together."

"Bubbles?"

"Oh! Joey. Um. Joseph," Harry says, then huffs. "He introduced himself as Joseph, right?" 

"Uh-huh," Jean agrees. "Does he not go by it at all?"

"His parents call him Joseph, but no one on base does," Harry says. "He's either Joey or Bubbles or Payne." 

"Payne or a pain?" Jean asks.

Harry beams, and Jean thinks very, very hard about not wanting to fall into a cliche. "Both, when he's your best friend," Harry says. "And he is mine." His face screws up again. "Oh, that's not fair of me. I'm probably the bigger pain."

"I don't think that's true," Jean says. "You seem really nice, Harry."

He blushes again, and she wants to lean in and kiss his warm cheek. "Well, you seem really nice, too, Jean."

"Marion will tell you I'm the meanest person she knows, but I'm also the younger sister, so…"

"Do you tease her about being old?"

Jean grins and glances over to the refreshment table. Marion and Joseph are still in line. Marion's saying something that Joseph is nodding along with. She looks back at Harry, and he's watching her with a bashful sort of affection that makes her heart thump hard. "I probably will now," she says. "But I'll blame it on you for telling me your sisters do it to you."

The bashful affection shifts to something a bit more openly appreciative, and Jean shifts her feet so her skirt swishes a little. It's not as impressive as Marion's swishes, but Harry stares at the movement like it's the best skirt swish he's ever seen. 

"Jean, would you dance with me?" he asks, holding out one hand. 

Jean takes his hand and lets him pull her to the dance floor. He holds her at a respectable distance, and they dance the last half minute of the fast song the band is playing. When they switch immediately into a slow song, Harry's cheeks go pink again. Jean feels herself smile, and she tucks her hand behind his neck, pulling him closer. 

Maybe falling for the handsome boy in uniform isn't the bad cliche she thought it was, she thinks as Harry ducks his head and presses his cheek to her hair for the briefest moment. Maybe this cliche could be really nice.