#and yet they kept the 'old married couple' quote

[ingravinoveritas]

PSA: Just a heads up that an article in Collider that was published today had Michael Sheen quoted as saying this:

The article was subsequently picked up by Gizmodo, who apparently edited the quote (likely without Michael’s permission) to say this:

To sum up: Gizmodo deliberately edited the quote from “the being that he loves being with the most” to “the being he most likes being with“ (and I think we can say “homophobic fuckery” is the reason why, and I have many more thoughts to share on what is happening with the marketing of GO 2, which I will go into on another post). 

Gizmodo’s version has already been picked up by several other news outlets, but if you share this article, be sure to share the Collider article and DO NOT share the Gizmodo one and give their inaccurate/misleading bullshit any further publicity. Thank you.

[sirenthatmakesyouwantcake]

these are my thoughts on interview with the vampire S2E2

This first part will mostly be about Louis and Armand,

Louis and Armand are still as cute as always. They are such an old married couple and Daniel's so sassy that it just makes them so good to watch. Armond sitting on Louis's lap is so adorable, they're babies. Noooo, it was just an angle, he's not sitting on his lap. The way Armand is describing Louis when they first met, I can't with these two (14:00). And their faces as their describing that night. Most of the time, I'm only sort of looking at the screen but for that whole scene, I have been pausing for once and re-watching it because I cant miss any of it. I just love them so much and they are so perfect together, they love each other so much, it's literally love at first sight. Normally, i don't really like that trope, but seeing them once they've been together so long, i think i quite like it in this circumstance.(48:30), they just keep getting better, the way he called Louse mon amour is so cute and then telling him to just call him armand, i'm going to have stayed up all night because im keep thinking of them and re watching the scenes. it's been an hour and a half of watching and I'm still only 48 minutes in. I just found out the last 10 minutes of the episode is just the BTS, I'm kind of sad that I have to wait for the next episode but I'm not sure if this would be readable if I kept going.

That's the end of just talking about them, the rest is the actual episode in order,

For some reason, I had just assumed that vampires couldnt smoke, I'm not sure why and it's not like there would be much of a logical explanation. I think it's a little confusing with so many different sets of rules but it's like religion, there are a lot of ways to interpret everything and the tales are all spoken.

I know that something happened to Claudia, I'm not sure what but from what I've heard, Armand and the missing pages may have had something to do with it, I think it would have been quite funny to see her interact with Daniel, I think that she would have ended up killing Daniel before the first interview was even finished.

It's sweet how he kept some many photos of all of those guys who he probably had some sort of relationship with and then armand basically admit to killing them, it's the funniest thing yet.

Honestly, if a group of vampires ran a theater company that did horror shows, no one would think twice about it or if a vampire went on social medias and told everyone they were a vampire, everyone would just assume they were faking. The way they are telling all of this is a lot better than the movie, I felt like they went a little fast and definitely missed a few things that would have made the whole movie make a good bit more sense, i've watched the movie twice now and still don't understand all of what's happening because of how much they had to cut out. Though I think it would have been possible to only do one season, I think it really benefits from having a lot more time instead of being rushed like most movies that were originally books. (17:30)

The fake fake vampire guy, Santiago I believe, and Armond definitely had something going on.(19:17) I really like the community that the vampires had, they don't care what people think the same way so many of us do. Armand also looks like he knows that he's perfect and above everyone, modern him still does but it's a bit less. He also looks like a whore, while @certainunkownlove2 and I were talking about this episode, we decided that the only way he had gotten rich was from being a whore. To quote her, “bro’s a hoe”

I haven't ever done much research into what old theater used to be like but the shadows and what not that they used were cool. If it's not something that they actually did, then it added an extra layer to the vampires in france and if it was something that was actually used, its cool that they did research in to something small like that (again, i haven't read the book so i'm not sure if that would have been the screen writers or Anne Rice)

When i watched the movies, i tried to figure out why they killed the girl on screen but with the show i finally understand and will no longer be kept up thinking about it, instead i'm going to spend my nights thinking about Louis and Armand. Something that i just noticed is that some of the audience has white face paint on, it think its funny that the non vampire audience members play so much in to the vampire thing, though i've never been, the atmosphere is what i'd imagine a Rocky Horror Picture Show show would be like.(24:15)

LOUSE’S FACE (27:55), I'm sure someone has made a meme of it already. Andl Claudia having the exact opposite reaction, it really shows their differences and view on some things, as well as their morals, Armand seems to have some of those same morals as Claudia. 

(29:56) Armand should change his business cards to say “maison de putain des vampires” (i'm not sure about the grammar because i had to use google translate but from the tiny bits of french i know, they are all real words) which translate to “the vampire whore house”

(33:25) same daniel. I love his commentary. And just everything about him in this scene. Another quote form @certainunkownlove2, “he’s sassy as fuck”.

(36:01) Cluadia has really grown up, mentally of course, she isn't as kill everyone as she was during most of the first season, she has definitely changed as a character.

(40:08) It's almost odd to see that Louis and Lestat loved each other at one point, and that at least a little, Lestat still means something to louis through the first two episodes of this season, even though it's no longer love exactly.

(41:55) he finally pushed too far. I do like the character backstory, showing more of who Daniel is

OTHER

Old French music is one of my favorite things to listen to when I'm not doing anything, it often times sounds so happy but not in an upbeat way which is nice at times, i have no idea what their singing about though

As i was editing this, I realized that I had spelled Armand as almond almost every time and i managed to spell Louis with every combination of letters and somehow not have used either of their names, except for once, in S2E1, I'm not sure how seeing how Louis is the main character. Also Daniel, although that was mostly in the first half

the next few may be a little late because of finals

Thank you for reading.

links to the rest of these posts:

S2E1 S2E3 S2E4 S2E5 S2E6

[the-badger-mole]

I am curious if Katara and Zuko actually had the objection part taken out of the ceremony, like if they thought some snotty noble would object to having a SWT Fire Lady but wouldn't cause a scene unprompted so they took it out to avoid that, or if it happened but Aang actually missed it like a dolt, or perhaps even worse it hadn't happened yet and then when the ceremony picked back up after Aang left, the Sage had to very awkwardly read that part and just pray no one else had an objection lol

Nah, Sokka was quoting an archaic tradition, and quoting it incorrectly. At one point, objections could be made at weddings, but it was mostly for people in rural areas of the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom. Record keeping wasn't great, and objections gave time for people to step up and mention that one of the couple was already married, deep in debt, otherwise involved in criminal activity, etc. It's such an old, irrelevant custom that the last time it was known to have been used was a bit before Aang was born. By the time Katara and Zuko get married, it was incredibly rare for any wedding to even have that part added in the ceremony.

The nobility never had that custom because, obviously, records were much better kept. And also, historically, rich and powerful people could do whatever they wanted, if they paid the right people or the right people were afraid of them. The Southern Water Tribe doesn't have anything like that. Katara knew about the custom, but Zuko assured her it wouldn't be included in their wedding (oops...).

[alwayschasingrainbows]

What are your thoughts about the epilogue? Specifically this sentence :

It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly.

How do you interpret it?

Thank you so much.

@curiousnonny

Thank you for the question, Nonny!

Let me start with saying I absolutely love the epilogue. It is bittersweet - Peeta and Katniss's story does not end with "they lived happily ever after". And it fits so much better this way. They both had gone through too much to ever be wholly healed. It is understandable that they both still have bad moments, that they are haunted by their fears and nightmares. They can't go back to who they used to be before the Games. But they had built their own kind of happiness - more precious, perhaps, because it wasn't given, but had to be earned.

"They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs." The scene itself seems almost idyllic. Two young children, carefree and happy, running and dancing in the meadow. But the reader knows what the children have yet to learn; they play on a graveyard.

The Meadow itself is a curious place. It is full of memories - the good and the bad ones. The horrors of the past surround Katniss and Peeta, are mixed into the happiness of the present and the hopes for the future. These memories will never truly leave, but Katniss and Peeta manage to keep on living, in spite of that.

The children physically resemble their parents, but they seem to have a sort of innocence neither Katniss nor Peeta were ever allowed to have. Katniss describes her children in a rather vague way, not even using their names. We don't know how old the children are; the boy is a toddler, so around 1-3, the girl goes to school, so at least 5 or 6.

It might be also read as a message; this part of Katniss's life is going to be kept private. She is finally free to do so.

Another thing that came to my mind; the epilogue sounds a bit as if Katniss was talking to a reporter, during the interview, or to another person; a friend, perhaps? Annie? Johanna? That's why she wants to protect her children's privacy.

Now, about this quote: "It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly."

It is a puzzling sentence. Five, ten, fifteen years - so how many exactly? Katniss obviously is trying to say, it took a long time.

In my opinion "five, ten, fifteen years" is her way of trying to remember certain events. She goes back in time and recollects the times Peeta has asked. A "zero" time point is when she and Peeta became a couple (grew back together). So, "five years" later was the first time Peeta mentioned wanting to have children. Perhaps it was not long after they got married (it would explain why Katniss remembers this year). "Ten years" might be an important event in their life (fifth wedding anniversary, perhaps), and "fifteen" - around the time Katniss decided to try for a baby. Since the epilogue takes place more than twenty years after the end of the Mockingjay, it would go well with their daughter's possible age.

It makes perfect sense that Katniss wouldn't want to have children right after the end of the series. She was quite opposed to the idea for many years. She needed a time to heal, to find her peace, to accept that her new family was going to be safe. She has already lost Prim - her father - her mother, too, to some point. She had to rebuild her life before welcoming children into the world.

So, I think it is perfectly understandable that she waited this long. Katniss deciding to start a family is an important symbol: it means that the world they live in is a safe, more peaceful place. It is a symbol of Katniss and Peeta moving on, in spite of their memories.

The description of Katniss's fears while carrying her children is understandable as well. "When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself." Katniss had known the loss before. There were so many deaths she had seen; many death she had unvoluntarily caused. Such trauma couldn't leave her unmarked.

She had decided to have children because Peeta had wanted them badly; but it took her fifteen years to agree. It shows just how supportive these two were of each other. She aknowledged his dreams and hopes, but he gave her as much time as she needed. He didn't push her into something she wasn't ready for, but waited patiently for her to decide. She put his dreams ahead of her fears.

It shows how mature and understanding their relationship truly was.

[angst-in-space]

6 and 29 for ao3 wrapped? 👀

6. Favorite title you used

...i'm realizing now that i only published four new fics this year so i don't have a lot to choose from lol. if we're only counting published fics then i think my fave is a short matchablossom fic i posted, "dawn goes down to day" (the title is from a robert frost poem, and that poem is quoted a lot in the outsiders which is one of my fave books, so it's sort of a double-reference lol).

if we're counting unpublished fics... i rly like the working title of my sylvix pacrim au which is "a vicious, vengeful sea" (a lyric from "black water" by of monsters and men, which is one of my fave songs!!)

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

OH MAN tbh there's like a couple lines from the sylvix dreamscape fic that i think are my fave but they're from chapters i haven't posted yet and they're very spoilery lol. so i'll go with this passage instead (also from sylvix dreamscape fic). It's a bit long so I'll put it under a Read More 🙈

ao3 wrapped

Crickets chorused in the fields, and the hush of a gentle breeze swept over the tall grass. Sylvain kept staring up at the sky, eyes flitting over the constellations as if he could see his memories written there.

“Remember when we used to drink on the roof together at Garreg Mach?”

Felix remembered. During their academy days, Sylvain would occasionally procure a bottle of wine in town and persuade Felix to drink with him at night on some secluded rooftop or wall somewhere. Although Felix always acted reluctant to go on these escapades, it was one of his fondest memories from that time.

Yes, it had been reckless and stupid—but there’d been a certain thrill to sneaking around the monastery grounds in the dead of night after curfew. There’d been something pleasant about it, too—how it was just him and Sylvain, sitting side-by-side under the moonlight, passing the bottle between them.

Even all these years later, Felix could picture it vividly: The pale glow illuminating the rooftops below and the mist above the distant mountains. The strong taste of wine on his tongue, sliding down his throat, settling warmly in his stomach. The timbre of Sylvain’s voice, lowered to a pitch that made the skin on the back of Felix’s neck prickle. Sylvain’s muffled laughter, erupting again and again no matter how many times Felix shushed him.

“What about it?” Felix asked quietly.

Sylvain inhaled the night air and let it out. “There was that one time, not too long after the war began.”

Another memory materialized: A knock on Felix’s door late one night, after they’d returned to the monastery after a harrowing battle. Sylvain’s tired smile and a bottle of wine in his hand. “What do you say, Felix? Just like old times?” Felix had somehow held back any scathing remarks. Didn’t Sylvain have a girl to seduce or something? Instead, he’d agreed without hesitation. After all the bloodshed and terrifying uncertainty they’d faced recently, he was desperate for even the slightest sense of normalcy.

“I’ve always remembered that night so clearly.” Sylvain examined the wine bottle, rubbing a thumb against the glass. Moonlight glinted off its surface.

“There was something about it... the two of us stargazing and drinking wine together. And I just looked at you, and I suddenly thought, ‘I could do this for the rest of my life.’ That was when it really hit me, I think.

“I realized that was what I wanted more than anything in the world—just to be with you, for as long as I possibly could. That I wanted to marry you.”

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: infinitely varied Ship: obikin Summary: Sometimes your husband decides to develop an artificial intelligence capable of free choice and something called a soul and succeeds in the middle of a Thursday night. Or, more concretely: he's in the middle of succeeding because said intelligence first has to learn how to speak.Also known as Obi-Wan and Anakin teach a tiny program called A.H.S.O.K.A. how to be something more than lines of code via the power of linguistics. AN: Happy birthday @ghostwriterofthemachine

Language is a process of free creation; its laws and principles are fixed, but the manner in which the principles of generation are used is free and infinitely varied. Even the interpretation and use of words involves a process of free creation.

Noam Chomsky

I.

Life was a query of expectations, margins on doorframes, bucket lists, first loves, broken hearts, and happy middles because only fools would settle for a happy ending when they had so many decades left to live. The thought never failed to bring a smile to Anakin’s face, no matter how frustrated, remembering the simple way Obi-Wan had proposed. There had been no fancy dinner, particularly stunning outing, or anything resembling outlandish romantic gestures. Anakin would have appreciated them because every act would have been colored by Obi-Wan’s love, but now, older and wiser than the rash youth who’s fallen in love at first heated debate, he preferred the way their proposal had actually gone down. A quiet Sunday morning, eating breakfast together on the sofa while the news droned in the background from Anakin’s old radio, a hesitant “I don’t need forever, but I want the present”.

And, well, for all his genius, Anakin could be a bit of an idiot sometimes, but not when it came to this.

Married life was interesting.

Somehow nothing changed, except also everything. They had bought a real house, moved out of their old apartment and made more compromises than Anakin had ever thought himself capable of, for they hadn’t been like fighting an uphill battle but dancing together. It had made him happy to paint the entrance hall in the shade of green Obi-Wan preferred if he got to paint the kitchen in the light blue he wanted.

Obi-Wan got the attic for his office where his antique book collection looked right at home, and Anakin got the basement where the hum of his servers and the generator powering them annoyed nobody else.

It was as close to white-picket-fence as it could be with two queer men, no kids, a bratty cat, and an anxious dog under one roof. His childhood self would be appalled to see how much Anakin, always the whirlwind, had settled. To a nine-year-old, Anakin probably looked very adult.

Anakin, however, did not feel very grown-up, banging his head against his desk in the middle of the night. Obi-Wan had gone to sleep hours ago, and so had Anakin until inspiration had struck and he’d snuck out of bed to return to his favorite project.

A.H.S.O.K.A may not be a child, but Anakin certainly could relate to exhausted parents when they complained about their children in endless repetitions. To this day, Anakin didn’t know why his mother figured it would be great parenting to encourage her WarGames obsessed kid to dig into the world of artificial intelligence when WOPR nearly started a nuclear war, but he’d forever remain thankful.

Or, he’d resume being thankful when he could finally get A.H.S.O.K.A to learn. He’d rewritten her code a thousand times. It was his ever-constant companion, from his first awful-looking early 2000s website to its current incarnation. A.H.S.O.K.A could solve simple logic puzzles, given that he fed her enough data. Her solutions to tasks could be downright hilarious, but they were not enough. He wanted her to be smarter, better, capable of gaining true understanding.

Perhaps, it was a dream for the future and not a Thursday night.

Anakin didn’t have any work tomorrow morning as he worked as a freelancer, so he could afford to pull an all-nighter. But his dear husband had planned a nice afternoon for them, so Anakin should call it a night or a morning as a glance at the clock told him.

Staring at the many lines of code again, Anakin sighed and leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his by-now cold tea. Obi-Wan would definitely complain that Anakin had snatched his favorite mug once he got up and couldn’t find it in the kitchen. Anakin had bought it at the last linguistic convention Obi-Wan had taken him to.

Language is a process of free invention, it read in delicate cursive before the rest of the quote disassembled in pure chaos.

Huh.

Now there was a thought. Anakin got out of his chair and left the basement, haunted by fixed principles and infinite combinations. Up in the attic, carrying Obi-Wan’s computer downstairs again, Anakin thought on interpretations and free creations. He was as giddy and nervous as he’d been on the morning of his wedding day, which had started similarly early. Connecting Obi-Wan’s computer, and more importantly, the priced result of his thesis, to Anakin’s server felt a little like unwrapping birthday presents.

language_acquisition_prediction.exe

Enter.

II.

Obi-Wan was not surprised when he woke to an empty bed. Anakin had a habit of suddenly pulling all-nighters or getting up early before the sun even thought of rising. Given that he couldn’t smell breakfast yet, Obi-Wan deduced that Anakin had pulled an all-nighter again. He slowly crawled out of bed to avoid disturbing Artoo and Threepio sleeping to his feet. Obi-Wan was pretty sure he shared his bed more often with his pets than he did with his husband.

He walked down the stairs to the ground level and went by the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea. To his displeasure, Obi-Wan couldn’t find his favorite mug and so had to settle for another. After another thought, he decided to make a second one for Anakin, lavender this time so Anakin would hopefully crash after breakfast. He put both mugs on a small tray together with a couple tomatoes. Obi-Wan usually wasn’t one for eating a full breakfast on workdays – that was the influence of Anakin and his mother’s kitchen – but he was the expert in smalltime snacks. With both in hand, he walked down the second flight of stairs, down to the basement. As expected, he found Anakin at his desk, clinging to what was bound to be a cold cup, staring intensely at his screens, which were running one program or another.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan greeted him and kissed Anakin’s cheek.

“Mo-orning,” Anakin replied, a yawn interrupting him halfway. “Wait, what time is it?”

“Eight,” Obi-Wan said. “How long have you been up?”

“Uuuh.” Obi-Wan didn’t need to see Anakin’s face to know the answer. “Did you even go to sleep?”

“I did sleep for a while!” Anakin argued. “But then I had an idea, I mean, look at this!”

Obi-Wan gave the screens a closer look. Despite common misconceptions, he was not technically illiterate. Privately, he blamed the fact that Anakin was quite well known for his tech know-how and Obi-Wan tended to talk more about literature given that he was filling in as a lecturer in the British Lit. department. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan had gotten his professorship with a program he’d written, and the code currently displayed on the screens looked very similar to a section that had given him stress nightmares. “Is that my thesis?” he asked.

“Yes, sorta, partially?” Anakin replied. “I kind of took it apart a lot and maybe corrupted it a bit, but that’s not the important part! Look what she’s doing with it.”

She could only refer to one person, intelligence. There were a few constants in their life, their new house the most recent one, and Ahsoka was probably the longest. Obi-Wan didn’t know why Anakin hadn’t set her aside already, he was happy enough to leave other started-never-finished projects lying around, but the last time he’d even just suggested such, Anakin had looked heartbroken.

Obi-Wan looked at the screen Anakin was pointing at and began to read.

script input: inhibition auditory input 1 designation skyguy: /ˌɪn.ɪˈbɪʃ.ən/ auditory input 2 designation professor: /ˌɪn.hɪˈbɪʃ.ən/ analysis: mismatch diagnosis: outstanding

script input: better auditory input 1 designation skyguy: /ˈbet̬.ɚ/ auditory input 2 designation professor: /ˈbet.ər/ analysis: mismatch diagnosis: rhoticism? query: define

The text continued for a while, though apparently Ahsoka only picked out the mismatched parts in her analysis.

“Is that ‘Must have done something right’?” Obi-Wan asked, the connection between the words suddenly starting to make sense.

“Yes!” Anakin grinned. “I wasn’t quite sure how to teach her sounds properly because I hadn’t equipped her with a sound analysis program before and I figured that if babies just learn by listening to their parents, Ahsoka could learn by listening to us.”

“So you fed her audio of us singing?” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure whether to be impressed, confused, or just plain tired but decided to settle on confusion for now and let the course of the conversation determine where they’d end up.

“That too, but I actually just started by playing old voice messages. I figured getting her used to just one phonetic inventory would be enough for now. Honestly, for the first hour, I wasn’t even sure whether that would be of any use because she had no symbols to connect the sounds to, and I thought using the IPA might bias her.”

Because, of course, Anakin never deleted any of Obi-Wan’s voice messages and just kept them on his phone. The fact that he just glossed over it as if it weren’t anything special either made Obi-Wan smile.

“It’s cute that you think we have the same inventory,” Obi-Wan commented. “But continue. You just let her listen to sounds and then? Don’t tell me you gave her written texts.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and confirmed another one of Ahsoka’s queries before answering. “No, I gave her the IPA then and let her listen to the full inventory and then analyze which ones we use.”

That made enough sense. Obi-Wan was reasonably sure it was a great deal more complicated than Anakin was lying it out right now, but it was still within the realm of possible and not downright sci-fi. There were enough programs that could analyze speech and filter out patterns, recognize even emotions and tone. Feeding data to a computer wasn’t too different from the way babies learned, though, as far as Obi-Wan knew from talking to people with children, they didn’t like their progeny being compared to lines of code.

“And you accomplished this by feeding my thesis program, which is meant to predict the language acquisition of children, to Ahsoka?”

“Yes, that, uh, happened more or less,” Anakin said, his nose scrunched up just so that Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t certain. “I’m pretty sure I like, wrote some of it down. Not all of it because I knocked out at like 4 a.m., which resulted in pretty interesting inquiries on the great vowel shift.”

Obi-Wan froze. “She’s asking about the great vowel shift?”

There was a difference in the size of the Atlantic between analyzing sounds and recognizing a six-hundred-year-old change in pronunciation.

“Not really,” Anakin said. “She just noticed the patterns? And had inquiries? We’ve been following up on it since, mostly by also giving her written text, but I think that might have backfired and confused her a bit. I’m thinking of synching up the input with a visible feed so she’d learn to associate an actual object with the sound, but I’m not sure whether that wouldn’t just lead to her matching data instead of actually learning its relevance. Can teach an AI what an apple looks like, sounds like, tastes like, but that doesn’t mean you can teach it what an apple is and all that.”

Anakin smiled impishly, and unfortunately, despite his generally messy appearance, Obi-Wan still thought he was handsome. “Please don’t cite my book back at me like that.”

Closing his eyes for a moment and pinching his nose, Obi-Wan tried to focus. This was not how he expected to start his free day. He needed to wake up and possibly grab his notes to sort out this mess. This almost made him wish the car was still wrecked and Anakin would spend all his free time fixing that. “Did you have to start her on English of all languages?”

Anakin was fluent in two other romance languages; it would have been much easier to deal with a French AI than an English one. Sighing, Obi-Wan looked at Ahsoka’s latest question and promptly frowned.

script input: bear auditory input: /beər/ match found: bare analysis: mismatch diagnosis: failed word formation query: bear = bare? query: deletion >bare<?

“How long has she been doing that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Doing what— oh, that’s new.”

So Ahsoka had jumped from matching sounds to text to comparing sound to words and then referencing those words against one another. That was a logical step, but also a step Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure she should be doing without prompting.

“She thinks bear and bare are related because they have the same sound. Didn’t really expect that turn of events. Should I show her those are two different words?”

“Does she even know what a word is yet?” Obi-Wan asked in turn.

“No.”

“Then teach her what a word is first— after breakfast. I want your pancakes.”

“You never want pancakes on a Friday.”

“My husband also never decided to rope me into teaching an artificial intelligence morphology before.”

Obi-Wan needed a proper meal for this. He could talk to his students on an empty stomach, but he could not deal with the latest brand of Skywalker insanity without something sweet first.

“I haven’t—”

Ever the negotiator, Obi-Wan decided to shut Anakin up with a kiss. “After breakfast.”

Ahsoka’s many questions could wait for an hour.

[2-honey]

Shattered glass

I did it! I kissed him. But why does it hurt? Why this pain in my heart. All those moments meant nothing. My cheeks felt wet. I pulled away looking down. I couldn’t bear another moment of these. I dashed away but the pain hasn’t gone yet. I cried my heart out. Finally, I made it home. I wish it had rained so he wouldn’t have seen my tears.

I wish he grabbed and held me close to his heart. I would put blinds on my eyes and believe his lies. reality knew better than to give in to my sweet desires.

You want to know what happened. I am sure you read between the lines and inquisitively thought she fell in love with the most popular boy and he played with her. Well, sir, you are right on the money. This is how things you when you are vulnerable, you turn blind to the most obvious of matter.

My life shifted to a movie of a series of unfortunate events starring me. My father worked as an R&D researcher in a pharmaceutical company while my mom was a housewife as they call. She decided to quit her job when she had me so she take care of me because as she says and I quote " I heard so many stories of nannies hitting children and killing them that I couldn't bear leaving you alone." She really loved us more than our father not that he want to admit. They were the image that pops into your head when you think of a happily married couple. I had to tell them more than once, please do not flirt in public what will the people say. I can't blame my father really, she was gorgeous. Her hair is hazelnut like mine but with sunkissed highlights reaching her shoulders. She kept her short but insists that I don't cut mine. None of her children had her light green eyes with black lines and red spots or my father's brown-green eyes. I read somewhere an author describes as woodland eyes. The closest one to those eyes are baby Angelica or as I determined to call after my friend Hannah taught me Malak which is an angel in Arabic.

The sad comedy happened when they played their roles like in the book. Some sick arsonist started a fire in the hotel where my parents went for a conference. I don't the book mentioned how hard is it to identify burnt bodies. I left my brother and sister at my neighbor's apartment and went with the police officers to identify my parents. I was at the denial stage. "They aren't really dead. " or "this is all a bad dream" or "they wake up at any time." I didn't react when I saw a charcoaled body but I couldn't get close to the tin bed with my parents' body covered with a white sheet. I always feared something would happen to them when they left me with my sibling but I always never stop praying for their safe return.

Nobody talks about what to do when someone dear to you dies. Yes, the talk of the 5 stages of grief or how death is a normal phenomenon. but no one tells you that your life changes. I wish there was a GCSE course that explain what to do when your parents die. I am 16 turning 17 in May, finishing my semester in three months. I am supposed to find a morgue to help me bury my parents. I am supposed to tell a 7-year-old his parents won't tuck him in from now on or take care of a toddler who's one year and just started talking two to four words. I am supposed to post on social media that I need prayers for my lost family. I am supposed to call my relatives who I call every now and then and who live miles away from us. I am supposed to be brave tomorrow when I go back to school.

Nevertheless, the only thing I manage to do was vent out my heart that keeps riping itself in a ribcage closing in on it making it hard to breathe. I dropped onto a couch in the waiting area hugging my leg trying to cut down the volume of my scream and sobs. Each time I tried to take a breath to stop, but my body won't let.

Before I knew it, I was at my neighbor's at 3 am with no reconciliation of the events that took place beforehand. The only thing I know is my eyes hurt and I have the worst headache.

Mrs Burtam was kind enough to open the door for me when the sun was going up in seconds She led me to the guest bedroom where my brother and sister are sound a sleep. I stared at them wondering how tomorrow will work out.

To be continued...

[samwrights]

Baby Fever

I’ve said it once, I’ll say it 600 times. I need Hanamaki Takahiro to put a baby in me. Y’all are going to be so tired of me after this one. Fluff and slight NSFW. @dreamyjaems not totally daddy related, but pretty darn close ;)

Hanamaki;

The first time he notices it is when you’re both out with another pair of couple friends.

They’d been married for six years, while the two of you were entering three years together, and they’d just had their first baby less than a year ago.

Despite never mentioning a future desire for them, Makki watched the way you interacted with that little girl and he knew straight away.

Haha, I’m in danger.

The way your eyes soften when you hold her or the way you’ve created a new, soft persona that only spoke in high pitched gibberish

The way you were constantly buying the baby’s clothes for no reason. At all.

It becomes more apparent when the two of you are out shopping and you somehow end up in the kids clothing section.

Baby vans is where Makki draws the line. Do y’all know expensive baby vans are? I’d draw the line too.

“Sweetie...sweetheart...love of my life...” Makki has a grin on his face, his eyes aren’t open, and he’s holding your guys’ statement for your joint bank account. “Mind telling me why the fuck you spent $138 at the vans store when you didn’t buy any new vans?”

“How do you know that I didn’t?”

“Because you would have shown me them.” His grin drops into an entirely unamused look. “What did you do?”

Sighing in defeat, you walked over to a nearby shoe closet, pulling out three boxes of baby vans in varying colors and sizes. “They were just so cute 🥺”

Makki takes a seat beside you on the couch, hunching over his knees while covering his face with one hand. “I wish you’d just talk to me about this first before you went splurging on a kid we don’t even have yet.”

Yet?? Y E T??

“I was under the impression you didn’t want any.” And that wasn’t necessarily wrong, per se. The two of you were still young, trying to work through college debt, and weren’t as stable as you could be. But Makki was in this for the long haul, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want you to be the mother of his future children.

“I mean I’m not opposed to the idea of trying.”

“...wanna start trying right now?”

“You son of a bitch, I’m in.”

Iwaizumi;

Iwaizumi was going to tear his hair out if he heard you coo at a baby one more time.

At first, it was fine. Yeah, the baby you spotted while the two of you were in line at Starbucks was cute. Even cuter when the baby waved to you, he wasn’t denying that.

But nearly every chance you got when the two of you were out in public, you’d smack him on the arm when you’d see a baby.

Legit, it was like you had a fucking radar on you.

“Haji, Haji, look! Look at how cute the wittle baby is!”

It was endearing, really, because he’d see the pout form on your lips as you tried to catch the infants attention. But again, that damned radar you had was driving him wild because it seemed to happen everywhere you went.

If there were toddler siblings or, heaven forbid, twins, you absolutely lost your shit. You fawning over one was bad enough but two? Or more? Good god.

Iwaizumi has banished all walks to the park. Walking your dog together? He made a new route away from the nearest children gathering place.

He couldn’t even bring you to McDonald’s anymore because you’d just stare at the fucking play place.

“D-do you really just not want kids, Hajime?” You’d asked him one time after seeing how red he turned with near anger? Maybe anger wasn’t the right word.

“That’s not it...”

???

He groans out of embarrassment cause he really doesn’t wanna admit this out loud. “Every time you talk about kids, I literally just wanna go home and fuck a baby into you.”

“Okay, so what the fuck are we waiting for?”

“College graduation???” Damn him and his logical rationalizations.

“We’re almost done with school—if we start now we’ll have already graduated before the baby’s even born.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Oikawa;

Oikawa actually entertains your baby fever—which is no help at all.

I see him totally being the dude that indulges watching 16&Pregnant, Teen Mom, etc. with you.

Half the time, you guys make bets over which couple’s going to break up, who loses custody of their child, so on and so forth.

But one thing remains consistent with the two of you—who the cutest babies are.

A constant topic of conversation between the two of you during these times is how idiotic some of the parents were. Have y’all ever seen Unexpected? Diego was the worst, and both of you had a unanimous opinion on that.

Unfortunately for you, these shows really start piquing your curiosity as to how yours and Oikawa’s little one would actually be.

And how the two of you would be as parents. It does upset you a little bit, considering he’s heavily focused on his pro career.

Oikawa notices the lack of desire to watch any of the aforementioned shows, despite that being a typical Friday night thing for the two of you. Friday night (baby) Fever.

“Alright, what’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing? I just feel like we should do something else.”

“Uh, no. I know you’re dying to see what the hell Max was doing while Chloe was giving birth.” 💀💀💀 he’s not wrong.

You gnaw on your lip while you make dinner—as per usual for your Friday nights. You always made something that required a bit more love while Tooru kept you up to date with his career.

“Do you think we would be better parents?”

“Duh,” he responds without skipping a beat. “both of us know how to make a bottle and change diapers.” He adds, referencing to the multitude of times you’d babysat friends’ kids or his newly born niece.

“Tooru, I’m serious.” A dry yet light laugh leaves his lips before he’s standing behind you, wrapping his arms just under your breasts and resting his chin on your head.

“I am too. I’ve just been waiting for you to give me permission.”

Oya? Wait, shit wrong person sorry

Needless to say, y’all don’t need to watch anymore pregnancy shows after this—too occupied with your own journey into parenthood.

Matsukawa;

Oh Mattsun, my clueless bunny.

He probably wouldn’t even notice, tbh, that you literally are in near tears when you see a cute baby.

Cause I imagine his s/o would be one that cries over all the cute things. Puppies? Cry. Kittens? Cry. Otter pups? Double cry.

But he seems to be missing the key theme here—b a b i e s, Issei.

He kinda dense.

You’ve always been good with kids without really trying, he learned, when you started watching your best friend’s five year old son once a week.

The little bean was your best friend, besides his mom and Issei of course. Every Thursday, you got up early so you could welcome the boy, make him breakfast, and hang out with him all day.

At first, it did funny things to Mattsun to see the way you’d glow while making slime or watching your favorite kid’s movies with him.

He learned quickly you could quote the entirety of Hercules and Mulan, and often acted out the singing parts with great theatrics.

When your best friend would come for her son, you’d get a little sad, enough for Mattsun to notice. He’s not that dense.

But dense enough not to notice the way you longingly stare at mothers holding the hands of their toddlers or carrying their babies while the two of you are out grocery shopping.

You’ve never wanted anything more than to have a kid with Issei. Even if he is kinda 💀💀

He’s so good to you, and it kinda hurts your heart the way he brushes off hanging out with you and the kiddo. Like he doesn’t want children period.

So, like any other healthy relationship, you actually decide to sit down and have a talk with him about this. Low key, it kinda scared him cause he thought you were about to dump him. “Do you see yourself having kids in the future?”

“Babe, I physically cannot.”

“I fucking hate you, Issei. I’m being serious.” Despite your words, you try not to laugh. You failed.

“What brought this on?”

“You just never seem to want to hang out with me and the rugrat when he’s over.”

“Not gonna lie, it’s just really hot watching you play mom.”

“You know, I don’t have to play mom.”

“Bedroom. Now.”

[dehydratedpool]

hello again!! it’s the beginning of a new month, meaning a new fic rec post!! here are some fics that i read this month that are just... exquisite and deserve all the love and attention <3 

there aren’t as many as last time unfortunately, since i was quite busy this past month, but i promise next month won’t fall short! ((fics that i’ve reread this month are indicated with a **))

Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table [11k] by runaway_train @runaway-train-works 

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or; The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

--> this is a new comfort fic for me tbh. i got rec’d this after louis tweeted about getting his wisdom teeth removed, and i’m so SO glad i decided to give it a read. it’s so precious and lovely and personally, i found it to be a quick read. it’s the kind of fic that makes me both warm and fuzzy inside but also highly upset that i’m single and will surely be alone forever

Just Let Me [14k] by HelloAmHere 

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

--> ok LISTEN. as some of you know, i just recently got into reading a/b/o fics and this one is definitely at the top of my fave a/b/o fics out there. it’s an interesting take on the trope, almost a bit more realistic in my opinion, and to quote the author’s note, “’what if a/b/o but less biological determinism?’”. i believe i found this one through a masterpost of “touch-deprivation fics”, so if that’s your thing, give this one a chance!

my ugly mouth kept running [4k] by theankletattoo @hadestyles

Another seed, another try except they know what caused the first wilt. They will be careful, they will be kind and together they will nurture it to life.

sometimes second chances are more important than the first.

--> rori, the author, never fails to disappoint when it comes to all of her works. i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, she’s so incredibly fucking talented it’s unreal. her imagery is so vivid and real it leaves simultaneously everything and nothing to the imagination. as usual, h and l’s dynamic in this is an addicting portion to this fic that has you anticipating how their dynamic will shift and grow up until the end. if you’ve yet to read any of rori’s work, i suggest you add that to your to-do list for the month, and get a head start to her collection with this one!

**As Wicked As Anything Could Be [21k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter

It starts when Louis decides that he wants to lose his cherry and announces that he thinks the best way to do that is by going to a gay club. Naturally, Harry can’t let him go alone, so he tags along and spends the night rating guys with Louis until someone finally catches Louis’s eye.

Harry shoves him out to dance with the guy, and he can already tell that it’s going to be a quick and dirty hook up, so he’s not surprised that Louis and the guy disappear into the bathroom ten minutes later.

It is a surprise when Louis comes out not even two minutes later, pale and clammy, grabs Harry by the hand and drags him right out the door.

Somehow Harry comes to the decision that it would be a good idea for him to be in the room with Louis while Louis gets laid.

It’s a stupid fucking decision.

--> i discovered this fic a while ago on a whim and i have zero regrets. this is absolutely on my top ten fave fics list (that has yet to exist but perhaps i’ll post it one day). whoknows is a well known author within the fandom, so i’m sure i don’t have to say much about their immense talent, but SERIOUSLY, their plot progression, even their use of dialogue is wonderful in every way. as a writer, i envy them lmao. this fic takes me on a rollercoaster every time i read it, it’s yet another comfort fic of mine and never fails to disappoint every time i pick it up again. please, do yourselves a favor this april and read this.

Keeping The Flame Alive [19k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter 

Recording with One Direction never felt like this. There’s a couple reasons for that, Harry thinks. One is that they did most of their recording on the road, rushed and in busses and hotel rooms, never in one place long enough to really get an argument going. The other, larger and more important one, is that back then he had the sweetest, meanest little omega around to distract him from all of that frustration.

The first time around, when he’d been recording his debut solo album, it hit him pretty hard. He likes to think he’s better adjusted to it now, but frustration is warring under his skin nonetheless. He doesn’t want to be told what to do most of the time, and he especially doesn’t want to be told what to do when it comes to his music.

What he does want right now is that sweet, mean little omega right in front of him with his mouth on Harry’s cock. Unfortunately, the best he’s got is his own hand and a shared toilet. So. That’s really not going to work.

--> yes, for the first time in dehydratedpoolfics history of fic recs even tho i’ve only been doing this for a month i am rec’ing the same author twice, but seriously, how could i not??? this fic took me on a literal journey like... wtf. i have no words. seriously, i have none, i’m just that blown away, go read it for yourself .

**a trail of honey through it all [27k] by bruisedhoney @yvesaintlourent 

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

--> okay look. i may or may not have a slight obsession with this fic. i reread it constantly, mostly for the iconic line, “are we fuckin’ or fightin’?”, because how can i not scream over that?? ((also patiently waiting for the sequel)) this is a literary masterpiece, one that defines an entire generation of this fandom i stg. but in all seriousness, hayley, the author, does such a wonderful job of giving the reader a vivid look into “nowhere, georgia”, and as a southern gal myself, i absolutely adore the itty bitty pieces of southern culture embedded into this, the tiny quirks that make this fic authentic. i could probably go on forever on why this fic is so iconic, but perhaps you should read it for yourself instead *wink* *wink*

SO. that’s all for this month!! if you read any of these, first of all, be sure to read the tags and author’s note (if any) before starting, AND please don’t forget to leave a quick kudos or comment, it means more than you may ever know <3

[kumkaniudaku]

Meet the Parents: Four

A/N: This is the last part of this series and a late Valentine’s Day entry. Enjoy another piece of the Chad and CoCo saga. I love you guys! 

Warnings: Not Proofread

Word Count: 5212

“Our parents are coming to visit next week.”

Tasha let the sentence fall from her lips like an observation about the weather and not a random declaration in the middle of weeknight dinner. Chadwick sat beside her on the couch, eyes trained on the television before turning his head for a view of the side of her face. Even in her profile he saw embers of worry smoldering behind her eyes. Chadwick quickly chewed the last bits of black beans in his mouth to answer.

“What?”

“Our parents,” she repeated, finally looking over at him. “They’re coming to visit next week.”

“Our parents? As in just your parents or -.”

“Both sets. Yours and mine. They are going to be in this house next weekend under the impression that we haven’t talked in years when we’ve been playing house for almost two months.”

“Yeah, so,” Chadwick added, not seeing the issue. “We’re grown. Shit happens.”

“My parents think that I’m getting married next fall, Chadwick. They think I’m still with Elijah.”

Chadwick stopped chewing to cough up pieces of rice that had shot to the back of his throat in surprise. “Shit.” He paused to gather himself as Tasha leaned forward to rest her forehead in her hands. “Okay, that explains your folks. How are mine involved?”

“My mama took it upon herself to contact your mama and, I think, they’re on a mission to help us reconnect like this is some family drama or something.” Tasha kept her lead low while her fingers placed air quotes around reconnect. A split second of silence hung in the air until quiet snickering caught her attention. “I’m glad you think this is so funny.”

“It’s too ridiculous not to laugh, baby.” Chadwick fought to stifle laughter as he watched Tasha stand and stomp off toward the kitchen. He hadn’t intended to belittle her feelings, but he wasn’t sure how to process the information. “C’mon, T. I’m sorry!”

In their shared haste to explore a new chapter of their relationship, neither Tasha or Chadwick had alerted their families and friends. Sure, a few people had made assumptions, but nothing that they speculated equaled solid proof. To call the lack of information a secret was too harsh. They preferred the term oversight. But now, with a visit from their families looming, the new couple needed a plan that included cleaning up said oversight without admitting to what would surely be seen as an outright lie.

Tasha stood in the kitchen angrily scrubbing at an empty sauce pot when Chadwick walked in and leaned on the counter beside the sink. He watched with a fond smile for a moment before reaching to grab her wrists and pull her close.

“Hey, look at me,” Chadwick requested, taking Tasha’s chin between his thumb and index finger. Hip lips pressed gentle kisses on her nose and mouth until she relented and returned his affection. “We’ll be okay.”

“You say that like you have a plan.”

Chadwick smiled and pecked Tasha’s lips. “I always have a plan, baby.”

To Chadwick the solution was simple: play along with their parents and finish the long weekend without giving up more information than was necessary. If their mothers wanted to believe they’d done a good deed, let them.

Together, they spent days fine tuning their deceit. Tasha made sure to remove any trace of her existence from Chadwick’s house, scouring the home for an out of place pair of heels or a wayward piece of mail in her name. Chadwick crafted an intricate script with details so precise that CoCo had begun to believe their lie.

The night before mom-eggedon, as Tasha had named their arrival, the couple lay tangled in bed tightening their story.

“So, we’ll have to delete each other’s number for this to work. It’ll look weird if my name pops up in your contacts.”

“How would they even see? I’ll go to another room.”

“That looks suspicious. You have to make the call in front of her.”

“Okay,” Tasha agreed, sighing as she scrolled through her contacts and reluctantly removed Chadwick’s number. “What else?”

“Make sure to grab your bonnet and headscarf before you leave in the morning. Or I can stash them in my drawer. Let me know.”

“You pick. I... need a break.”

Tasha’s sudden bout of anxiety was enough to end any and all conversation that night. She has resigned to the notion that she would have to come clean the minute her parents stepped off of the arrivals sidewalk and slid into the backseat of her car. Still, she was careful to use her best poker face in the off chance that she was home free. Chadwick didn’t share her worries, but he empathized. His parents weren’t nearly as invested in his personal life. He wasn’t the one due to be married in a year’s time.

Sun beat down on Tasha through the windshield of her car while she anxiously glanced in her rearview mirror for any sight of her parents. She hadn’t slept the night before and slipped out of Chadwick’s bed early to avoid any talk of the weekend. In her mind, if she left without speaking to her boyfriend, she could easily forget their connection. She was wrong. All she could think about was ringing his line for another dose of reassurance.

Tasha’s eyes followed a parking official making stops at each car along the curb, silently praying that her parents would emerge from the building before she was handed a ticket.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered, hoping she could will them outside. Her fingernails tapped nervously on the dash until, finally, she caught a glimpse of her mother’s traveling hat moving toward the sidewalk. She bounded from the driver’s side in a single motion and waved her hands for their attention.

“Mom! Dad! Over here!”

“My baby!” Elaine was the first to greet her oldest daughter, leaving Gerald to grab her rolling luggage and haul it to the car.

Tasha smiled as her mother pulled into a hug way too tight for her tense body. “Hey, mama. You travel safe?”

“As safe as I could, child. Your daddy complained the whole time, but we’re here now.”

“Set your old man up with first class tickets next time, Pumpkin. I need some room for these knees.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll upgrade you for the flight back. Let me grab those.”

Gerald tried to wave Tasha off, but he was too slow. Tasha had already started to channel her nervous energy into overextending her hospitality. Every question was answered with an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm. Neither of her parents noticed as they marveled at sights and sounds of Los Angeles. They sat with their faces nearly pressed against the car windows, rattling off questions and observations about the state of the city. Complaints about the traffic earned a laugh that was too loud for the conversation and a shared look of concern between Gerald and Elaine.

“So, how is Elijah,” Elaine asked, looking at Tasha through the rearview mirror with a smile. “We haven’t heard from or about him in about a month. Is he okay?”

Tasha’s foot stuttered on the break as she pulled into her driveway, making the car jerk in response. She took a breath and rolled her shoulders back before answering.

“He’s fine, I suppose. We... aren’t together anymore.”  Tasha’s jaw clenched at the admission and shook her head. She hadn’t said the words aloud yet.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He wasn’t good enough for you anyway, Pumpkin. His ears were too big to have nothing in between ‘em.”

Tasha chuckled as she shut off the engine and opened the driver’s side door. “Thanks, Pop.”

“I agree with your father. Now, you have more time to wait on the man that’s supposed to court you, not the other way around. You know, I know a guy.”

“Mhmm,” Tasha mumbled. “Here, let me help with that.”

Gerald stopped pulling suitcases from the trunk and kindly pushed his daughter’s hand away. “I got it, Pumpkin. Take your mama inside. She’s been dying to see your house.”

Tasha laughed at her father’s thinly veiled plea for alone time before ushering her mother into her home. Elaine stepped into the foyer and paused, taking a long look at her surroundings. Beside the door, a basketball rested by a black duffle bag.

“You’re playing basketball again,” she questioned.

“Every once in a while I play with the girls as the facility. No big deal.”

Elaine took another look at the oversized sweatshirt barely hanging out of the bag. “Hm.”

Before Tasha could address Elaine’s non-verbal judgement, her mother had moved on to the living room. Elaine stopped to examine photos and sculptures carefully placed on each surface, finding many of them to have ties back to home or family. Her fingers ghosted over awards from her daughter’s time away from home and she smiled. If Elaine was nothing else, she was proud of Tasha.

While she listened to her husband and daughter wrestle luggage into the house, Elaine carefully took a seat on the large sectional to rest her aching legs. The way she flopped against the plush piece of furniture surprised Elaine, making her giggle but stop when she got a whiff of the air around her. Beside her head lay a dark fleece blanket and she took a deep inhale to place it as a source of the masculine smell.

“This is a nice blanket, Nicole,” she complimented. “It looks warm.”

“It is. Got it on a trip back from Connecticut last year. Great naps have been taken under that thing.”

What Tasha thought as a random fun fact about her favorite blanket made her mother smirk with realization. She knew the smell of a gentleman caller when she encountered one. Though the information wasn’t enough to stop the plan she had in motion, she felt a strange comfort in knowing that Tasha was living a life that pleased her, something Elaine had drilled into her and her sister’s head since their pre-teen years.

“Dad, you want a drink. I have this expensive artisan beer that Ch... a friend left over. When they visited. A friend.”

Tasha stilled to slow her rapidly beating heart at her near mistake. Neither of her parents had seemed to notice and, for that, she was silently grateful.

“My girl is drinking beer now,” Gerald questioned with a wide smile. “Becoming just like your old man.”

“Yeah, well, I dabble. Gotta keep up with the white boys at the Lakers game.”

“Atta, girl. Beat ‘em at their own game. C’mon, show me.”

On one side of town, Tasha busied herself with introducing her parents to the wonders of pale ales and stouts, while on the other, Chadwick emptied grocery bags filled to brim with dinner ingredients. He spent much of the process silently scolding his parents for placing items in areas he knew CoCo wouldn’t enjoy. When his mother moved to place the entire jug of orange juice in the door of the refrigerator, Chadwick couldn’t resist the urge to stop her.

“Actually,” he started, intercepting her before she could place the jug. “I have some pitchers you can empty that into. They’re nice, I promise.”

His mother eyed him as he retrieved a monogrammed pitcher from the cabinet and rinsed it in the sink. The last time she’d visited, he barely had food in the refrigerator. Now, he had specialized pitchers for juice.

“Where did those come from?” Carol asked, trying to get a better look at the glassware.

“Crate and Barrel. I went with a friend a couple weeks ago and they suggested them.” Unlike Tasha, Chadwick had a solid grasp on his lines and practice keeping secrets.

“Hm. This friend suggest those vanilla candles in the living room, too?”

“Those were a gift. Want one? I have a few more in the linen closet.”

“No, I’m alright. Just... noticing some changes.”

“Like what?” Chadwick asked as he stashed breakfast meat in the refrigerator drawer.

“You live alone now. That’s new.”

Chadwick shrugged, seemingly unphased. “It’s been a couple of weeks. The split was mutual. We’re on better terms these days.”

That was an assumption on his part. Chadwick didn’t know the status of his friendship with Charmaine, but he harbored no ill will. Carol opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by her husband walking into the kitchen with a big smile.

“Hell of theater you got back there son. I bet the big game looked good on that big ‘ole screen.”

“Wanna try it out? I think the playoffs start tonight.”

“What about dinner?” Carol asked.

“We’ll eat early. It’s just us right?”

Chadwick tried to avert his gaze once his mother started to look between him and his father. He didn’t want to let on that he knew more than she had shared.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about. You remember Tasha, right?”

“She was my best friend, ma,” Chadwick laughed. “Of course I remember her.”

“I know, I know. But did you know she lived here now?”

“She mentioned it when she sent a gift for the movie.”

“So, you two talk again?”

“We’ve talked once or twice.”

“Have you met up?”

“No.” Chadwick answered, keeping his voice flat to appear neutral. Carol smiled in a way that indicated she had information to share. Chadwick allowed the charade to continue.

“Well, I heard from a little birdie that her parents are also in town this weekend. Maybe you should invite them over.”

“Ma, I don’t know if we’re back on those terms yet. It’s been a while.”

“I know,” Carol answered, drawing out ‘know’ as she took steps toward Chadwick. She latched onto his arm and smiled up at her son. “But, what if she stopped by? Just for dinner?”

Chadwick looked between his parents, paying special attention to his father’s grin. He’d never known his dad to be invested in his private life, but there was always spark behind his eyes when Tasha was involved.

Finally, Chadwick pretended to relent.

“Alright, ma. I don’t have her number, though. How will I call?”

Carol clapped her hands like a giddy child and started a search for her phone. “Don’t you worry your head, boy. I have her number right here.” She extended her arm toward his face. “Go on. Call her. I wanna hear you.”

Chadwick felt his body tense and mind begin to scramble for a response. He had expected to make the call when a moment of solitude presented itself. Now, he was forced to go off script and risk throwing Tasha off balance. On a whim, he decided to grab his mother’s phone to make the call.

The phone rang once, and then a third time before Tasha answered.

“Hello?” she answered with a genuine question thick in her tone.

“Hey, Tasha. It’s me...Chadwick.”

Everyone listened as the sounds in the background became louder before CoCo responded. “Hey, Chad. I have you on speaker. My parents are here.”

“Hi, Chadwick!”

“How ya doin’, son!”

Both Tasha and Chadwick chuckled at her parents' excitement.

“I’m good. Good to hear from y’all. Welcome to LA.” Chadwick listened to Elaine and Gerald share various versions of thank you before continuing. “Hey, so, funny thing...my parents are here too.”

“Oh really? Give them my love. I know they miss me.”

“We miss you so much, sweetie! Why don’t you come eat dinner with us tonight.”

Chadwick chuckled at his mother’s excitement, “That was my line. She beat me to it, but the invite stands. We’d be happy to have y’all over.”

“We’ll be there!”

“Ma!” Tasha and her mother argued in hushed whispers on the other line, nearly making Chadwick forget that the whole conversation was a carefully planned charade. “I guess we’ll be there. You’ll send the address?”

As if she needed it. “Sure. You’ll get it from another number, okay?”

He wasn’t sure why, but Chadwick felt butterflies flutter in the pit of his belly as if this were truly the first time he was seeing the love of his life. He welcomed the feeling and smiled on the other end, making his parents join in on his happiness.

“Great. See you soon,” Tasha answered, a hint of smile in her voice to match Chadwick’s.

They hung up with promises to text for more details and inside jokes that made only them laugh. With a few white lies, they had tricked their parents, and nearly themselves, into believing they were set to embark on a glorious reunion between college friends.

Tasha spent hours rifling through what little clothing she still had at her condo, tossing outfit after outfit onto her bedroom floor until she came up with something she felt would catch her man’s eye.

Across town, Chadwick and his mother arranged and rearranged the dining table dishes to ensure that he was putting forth the best “first” impression. They settled on elegant china that Chadwick felt was a bit too formal for the occasion, but he let it stand. At the very least the flatware would impress Tasha’s parents.

As Tasha drove through Chadwick’s neighborhood, she made sure to maintain a facade of discovery. She didn’t take the normal shortcuts or skip the growing pothole on the street that tormented her each day on the way home from work. She pretended to be surprised at the ornate sculptures crafted from bushes at a nearby house and the amount of expensive cars in the driveways they passed.

“The boy is doing well for himself,” Gerald commented from the backseat.

“Very well. But, we always knew it’d be like this. Chadwick was destined to be big.”

Elaine spoke about Chadwick as if he was some utra celebrity and not the same kid that she had to constantly remind to slow down while he ate so that he wouldn’t choke on his food.

Tasha laughed as she pulled into his driveway. “He’s a movie star. It’s to be expected.”

One by one, the Greene family stepped out of the car into the crisp, early Spring air and started up the short driveway toward the door. Tasha hung back and examined the house from the outside, admiring how the two potted plants they’d placed on the porch were starting to go into one another like their namesakes.

Gerald rapped his knuckles against the door several times before Elaine scolded him for being rude as she pressed the doorbell. When Tasha caught up to her parents, the door opened and sent light from the inside spilling onto the front porch. Chadwick popped out of the house with his arms open wide.

“Family!”

He gripped Tasha’s parents into tight hugs, sharing familiar pleasantries as he welcomed them into his home. Elaine stuttered when it was her turn to embrace, taking a deep whiff of Chadwick’s shoulder and feeling transported to a moment earlier in the day. She kept quiet, but took note of his hug with Tasha as he moved on to greet the other members of the household. Elaine noticed the way he seemed to hug her like a man familiar with the curvature of his lover’s body and shared a look with Carol that spoke louder than words.

As a unit, they quickly fell back into familiar behaviors, catching each other up with life’s happenings and new discoveries. On the far end of Chadwick’s sectional, he and Tasha sat close enough to share side conversations that only they could hear.

“Just like old times,” Lawrence, Chadwick’s father, commented over his glass of water. “You two haven’t changed in over 20 years.”

“What you mean, dad? We’re just over here talking.”

“That ain’t just talking,” Gerald chimed in. “Y’all always had your little secret language.”

“And a knack for keeping each other’s secrets.”

Tasha looked over at Elaine who sat with a knowing smirk on her face that unsettled her daughter. Chadwick easily maintained his cool as he sipped from his wine glass.

“That’s how it goes when you’ve been friends this long. We are still friends, right?”

Tasha felt her cheeks become warm through her bashful smile. “Of course. Always.”

Both sets of parents looked on with fond smiles while their kids shared a moment of rekindling a little more than longtime friendship. Elaine and Carol exchanged winks to congratulate each other on a job well done.

“Well isn’t that sweet,” Carol spoke after clearing her throat. “But, I think the roast is done. Can we move this moment to the dining room?”

“Yeah, sure. Tasha, can you help mama in the kitchen? You need help right, mama?”

“I’ll take it wherever I can get it,” she laughed.

“Now, you know you don’t ever have to ask me for help. I’m right behind you.”

The group quickly dispersed to different corners of the house, leaving Tasha and Carol to explore Chadwick’s kitchen on their own. Tasha took it upon herself to reach into the drawer beside the stove and grab pot holders. Carol watched her move around the space as if she had been there a thousand times.

“Did you say you’ve visited Chad before?”

Tasha looked back as she opened the stove and shook her head. “No, ma’am. This is my first time.”

“Hm. Okay.” She continued to watch Tasha carefully slide the roast out of the oven and close the door with her hip. When Tasha turned around, Carol tried to recover a moment too late. Tasha smiled nervously.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Carol quickly answered. “I just...I thought...it doesn’t matter. I’ll grab another bottle of wine and meet you in the dining room.”

Carol’s pivot seemed to do the trick once Tasha carried the main dish to the dining room. Chadwick sat at the end of the table with a mixed look of boredom and relief once Tasha entered the room. He sprung up to retrieve the dish from her hands, but Tasha gripped his hands to stop him.

“Your mom is being weird,” Tasha whispered.

“Your’s too. She noticed that bottle of air freshener you always spray in here and asked where it came from.”

“What is she a fuckin’ bloodhound?”

“She is you,” Chadwick laughed. “I think I got us out of it, but be careful.”

Carol’s entrance forced the pair to separate and pretend to focus on different tasks. She eyed their charade for a moment before looking over to Elaine and their aloof husbands solely focused on dinner.

She took a seat beside Lawrence just as Tasha settled in next to Chadwick while trying to avoid eye contact.

“So, who’s going to say the blessing? Tasha?”

Tasha’s eyes grew wide, “Oh, I’m probably not the best person. You know how I am with words and this isn’t my house anyway. How about Chad?”

“Uh, sure. Everybody bow your heads.” Tasha squeezed Chadwick’s hand as a silent thanks and clamped her eyes shut to avoid the daggers he sent in her direction. Chadwick took a deep breath in search of words to fit the occasion. “Lord, thank you for bringing us together again tonight. Especially Tasha and I as long time friends. We-”

“Hope that you will use all of us to tell the truth about our love for one another. Please, don’t let this night pass without every feeling and overlooked detail put on the table. It’d be a shame for us to leave here holding on to what you put on our hearts to share.”

Amens, both genuine and forced, sounded around the table to signal the end of Elaine’s awkward prayer. The group sat in silence while scooping food onto their plates. Tasha and Chadwick attempted to remain inconspicuous.

“Chadwick, how’s Hollywood treating you,” Gerald asked between bites of food.

“Ah, you know how it goes out here. I go to work, come home and avoid all that foolishness in between. The pay is good though. I can’t lie about that.”

“You better be avoiding the foolishness. Tasha, now that you’re here, keep my boy straight.”

“Yes, sir,” Tasha laughed. “If I’m not good at anything else, I’m good at bossing him around.”

“Did Tasha tell you that she’s single now?”

“Ma! We literally just got here. When would I have had time to share that?” Tasha shot her mother a glare across the table and received a shrug in return.

“I only asked a question. Are you single Chad?”

Chadwick chuckled as he slipped his hand under the table and gripped Tasha’s thigh. “No, I didn’t know she was single and, yes, I am recently single. The last relationship didn’t workout quite the way she hoped.”

“Sounds like you two have something in common.”

“Oh you and what’s his name aren’t together?”

Tasha caught Chadwick’s obvious sarcasm and brushed his hand off her leg. He continued to laugh at her expense, leaving no room for her to unleash her frustration beyond a curt smile.

“You know his name, Aaron. And, no, we are not. That is my business to keep to myself.”

“Alright,” Chadwick answered. “Maybe I can hook you up with one of my actor friends. I hear Anthony Mackie is looking for someone your type.”

“I’ll pass. Actors aren’t my thing.”

“Hm. That’s not what I heard.”

Chadwick jokingly nudged Tasha’s shoulder, garnering a look from Elaine and Carol.

“What did you hear,” Carol asked. “Don’t the kids say something about the tea?”

“Nothing. Chadwick hasn’t heard a thing but a seminar on how to still be annoying after 20 years.”

He laughed and wiped his mouth. “I’m pretty good at it, too. You look a little flushed, though. Want more wine?”

A simple diversion pushed the conversation into talks of wine tasting and how to pair reds and whites, effectively ending all relationship talk for a stretch. Underneath the table, Tasha and Chadwick took turns letting their hands wander. The cat and mouse game quickly grew inappropriate with fingers buried between thighs and palms gripping sacred parts over thick denim fabric. Their parents enjoyed helping after helping of food until each person was stuffed and nearly falling out of their seats. Lawrence, however, wasn’t done.

“I could go for some dessert,” he mentioned during a lull in the conversation. “What we got in the kitchen?”

“Mama, you got that cheesecake I ordered, right? Tasha, wanna help me grab it.” Chadwick had been thinking about a way to briefly separate from the group to sneak a kiss or a hug and, finally, he’d found an out.

Tasha peeped the hint of demand in his voice and nodded. “For sure. You know you have butter fingers anyway. We’ll be right back.”

The pair didn’t give their parents time to reject the offer before they scurried out of the room. When they made it into the kitchen undetected, Tasha pulled Chadwick into a searing kiss. He chuckled against her lips while fondling her backside.

“Your joke was not funny,” Tasha mumbled before breaking the kiss. “Mackie? Really?”

“Gotta make it realistic, baby. You handled it like a champ.”

“Mhmm. Next time, I’m coming with jokes about your relationship.”

Chadwick allowed Tasha to slip from his grip and head to the refrigerator. He watched her hips sway for a second before reaching into the cabinet to grab dessert plates.

“Which ones do you usually use?”

“The white marble. Grab the gold forks to match the decor. You did a good setting it up by yourself.”

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my mama from moving stuff around?”

“Probably as hard as it was to keep mine out of my office. Why can’t they be like our dad’s?”

“Because then we wouldn’t love them as much,” he added. “Only a couple more days of this and then I can have you back in here with my shirts on.”

“Oh, so, we aren’t meeting up for some car sex tomorrow.”

Tasha stepped closer as Chadwick lifted a brow and watched her beneath hooded lids. “Don’t tempt me, baby.”

“Now, Aaron. You know that ain’t my style. I’ll call you. We’ll call it lunch.” Balancing the tray of cheesecake in one hand, Tasha pressed a quick kiss against Chadwick’s lips before turning to leave the kitchen.

“Who wants cheesecake,” he hollered as he followed Tasha back into the dining room with a smile.

Both sets of parents watched the couple attempt to pass out slices without bumping into each other, taking note of the clear gloss making Chadwick’s lips shine. Lawrence tried to send messages to his son to wipe his mouth but all of them went unnoticed. Elaine and Carol shared smiles while Gerald stifled a laugh.

After passing out each piece of cake, Tasha and Chadwick took their seats and found all eyes on them.

“What,” Chadwick asked as he stabbed a fork into his cheesecake.

Lawrence cleared his throat. “I think you have something you need to share, son.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe Tasha will know,” Elaine added. Tasha forced a laugh and smiled.

“I don’t even know what’s going on right now. What are you talking about?”

“How about you start with how long you and Chadwick have been seeing each other. And be honest this time, Pumpkin.”

Tasha and Chadwick froze. In the mirror above his parent’s head and noticed the evidence of their secret still on his lips. There was no sense in preserving the farce. They were caught red handed. So, he smiled and shook his head. Tasha finally relented with a hearty laugh.

“When did you know, mama?”

“Child, as soon as I smelled man on your couch and hugged this one at the door. You have to be smarter than that.”

Carol chimed in and pointed at Tasha, “And this one went in the kitchen and started pulling things out of the drawer like she owned the place.”

“You don’t think we noticed the glassware in the fridge? You drink orange juice out of the carton and now all of a sudden there’s pitchers all over the place.”

“Since when do you drink beer, Pumpkin. I knew you either had a boyfriend or you were going through a midlife crisis like your mama when she only drank martinis for a year.”

Chadwick and Tasha listen to all the places they had neglected tiny details, feeling slightly foolish that they’d tried to pull the wool over the eyes of the people that knew them best.

“Okay, you got us,” Chadwick admitted. “This was all Tasha’s idea. I wanted to tell y’all right away. It’s been almost two months of this lie she made me tell.”

“Oh, hush! I just figured we would tell you when we were ready. Well, when I was ready. I’m sorry, y’all.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Carol answered.

“This just gives us more time for planning.”

Tasha raised an eyebrow while leaning into Chadwick’s side. “Planning what?”

“The wedding of course,” Elaine exclaimed. Tasha’s groan became covered by Chadwick’s boisterous laughter.

“Lay ‘em on me, Ms. Greene. What you thinking?”

“How do feel about a rustic wedding, Ooh ooh, let me go grab my phone. Did I tell you I have a Pinterest now?”

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.4}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The moment they were back in Snape's office, Robin got started on making them coffee. It was early afternoon by now, and she was well aware that there still was plenty of work to be done before they could move on over to the lab. Once again she offered her help with his work, but his (admittedly very much justified) objection remained that he couldn't let her grade other students' essays, and Robin had to accept that. Thus she merely sat down at the smaller table with her own coffee after handing him his, and henceforth listened to him complaining about the many stupid mistakes the second years had made in their essays. Eventually it became a real game between them, to keep a list of the most ridiculous things people had written in their essays, and to rank them by their level of idiocy. Robin, void of anything else to do for once, actually wrote it all down on a piece of parchment, both the most ridiculous statements and the ranking points they had given them.

In the end, they successfully managed to miss dinner entirely, as their game was more entertaining than either of them had anticipated. But the work was done, and Robin was proud to say that she had made it less dreadful for him after all. Even if not entirely on purpose, but still very much willingly.

"You know, you could probably fill an entire lesson just with reading out the dumbest quotes on this list and have the students figure out why it's so wrong." Robin sighed with a smirk as she stretched in her chair. The piece of parchment in front of her looked almost like a piece of art at this point, littered not only with the most desperately wrong quotes from the essays, but also Robin's corrections of them, as well as some extended elaborations on the matter and little drawings of ingredients. Yes, she had been that bored between judging ridiculous quotes.

"I could. Should I, however?" He raised an eyebrow at Robin with a not-smirk while he got up from behind his desk at last, only to sit down again across from her at the small table. Without taking his eyes off hers, he snatched the piece of parchment out from under her fingertips and only then lowered his gaze to inspect it. A few seconds passed before he frowned, and Robin smiled.

"I think you should." She remarked innocently, replying to his earlier question while leaning back in her chair. "Have them correct the mistakes, that is, not mock the person who made them."

"I am surprised that you bothered to correct them."

"Didn't have much else to do between judging students' idiocracy. Besides, at this point I really should know the second year topics, shouldn't I? Did them twice, after all."

"Twice because…?"

"Once in my own second year and then again last year when tutoring Jorien and Cas. So technically I only did them once, and then tried to teach them a second time."

"You still tutor your roommates regularly?"

"Yeah." Robin shrugged with a smile. "Not just them though, and by far not only in potions. Just this morning I actually had sixteen students, can you imagine?! Sixteen thirteen-year-olds! And they actually listened to what I said!!!"

Now Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise, but the not-smirk turned into a real one; small, but definitely visible. "I had no idea that was even a possibility."

"Me neither!" Robin laughed, then kept on grinning. "So, just in case you get a suspicious amount of high quality essays from your third years next week, you know who to blame. Or who to thank."

"We will see about that." He replied with the same smirk, but then continued on a more serious note as he took another look at the parchment in his hands. "May I keep this?"

"Sure." Robin shrugged easily, and for whatever reason her heart skipped a beat. "I hope you can decipher all of it… I didn't specifically try for readability."

"I have been reading your handwriting for years, Robin. Not only in tests or essays written specifically to be handed in, but in scribbles and working notes as well. I would even say I know it quite as well as my own."

"Good." Robin couldn't help grinning at him with enough excitement to make him frown a little in suspicion. Before he could ask however, she had already summoned her handbook out of her backpack and dropped it on the table in front of him with a dull thud. "Because there's something else I have been dying to show you."

_______________

A quiet rustling of sheets, soft breathing, hushed whispers. "Robin…" The mattress dipped gently at her side. She smiled, curling a little closer around the new source of warmth. "ROBIN!!!"

She jumped at the loud voice, sitting up with a start, and her head bumped against something hard in an instant.

"Ow…" She grumbled with a deep frown, rubbing her now aching forehead in an instant, while her eyes finally went into focus enough to see Cas sitting in front of her on her bed, rubbing her forehead just the same. Jorien sat on the other side, laughing at both their misery without a hint of guilt or pity.

"Very funny, you guys…" Robin groaned tiredly as she crossed her legs underneath her to make room for the two girls. "The last time you woke me up like this was-..."

"Happy birthday, Robin!" Both girls cheered before she could finish her sentence, and Robin had to smile despite the small mishap.

"Thank you! Is it really the twentieth already? Again?" She sighed, but by now she knew that resistance to Cas was hard, and resistance to Jorien was entirely futile.

"Twentieth of October, six o'clock in the morning!" Cas grinned, and crossed her legs as well while Jorien followed suit a few seconds later.

"Six?! Good gods…" Robin groaned exaggeratedly and frowned at them with a desperate smile. "Why on earth would you wake me up this early?"

"Because it's Thursday and our present for you requires some time before breakfast." Jorien replied factually, and Cas nodded in her usual giddy eagerness.

"Do I need to be scared?" Robin inquired with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. She knew that look on their faces, and she knew that they were up to something. A second later, a small box very much like the one she had received last year was placed in her lap and Robin opened it with a curious smile. When her eyes fell onto the contents however, her brows furrowed, and she looked up at Cas and Jorien with a big question mark on her face.

"We're not doing anything you don't want to, of course… But you liked those onyx earrings so much when we went to Hogsmeade, so we decided to get them for you." Cas shrugged with an excited smile, and Jorien merely nodded in no less amusement.

"That is very sweet of you, but you realize that I don't actually have any holes in my ears but the ones nature demands, yes?"

"Yet. That is part of the present." Cas replied mischievously, and both girls smiled at Robin in a way that made her realize that they were absolutely serious in what they were planning to do. It humored her more than it probably should have.

"Alright." Robin said with an easy smile. "Thank you for the lovely present. If you take joy in stabbing holes into my skin, feel free to. I don't mind."

"Wait… really?!" Cas frowned incredulously. "I thought you were going to protest! I prepared an entire speech to convince you that it was for the best!"

"I told you she would be all for it." Jorien shrugged at her friend, with a humored smile similar to the one Robin wore herself. "And you didn't write a speech, you practiced saying 'please' in as many ways as possible."

"Don't tell her that!" Cas protested with a roll of her eyes, and Robin merely had to chuckle at the two of them. They were like an old married couple sometimes, and it was hilarious and adorable at once to observe. Cas turned to Robin once again. "Anyway, we asked McGonagall for a spell to pierce your ears that wouldn't blow your head off along the way, so you don't have to worry about a thing. It's all approved and safe for use."

"I'm not worried." Robin replied easily, and really she thought the idea was rather sweet. It was such a typical teenager thing to do… something of the kind she had never spent a second thinking about before now. But to Cas and Jorien it actually seemed to be of immense importance to do this themselves, and Robin felt touched that they included her in their spark of youthful rebellion. And she wouldn't mind getting her ears pierced after all. "So… You actually asked McGonagall for a spell?"

"Who did you expect us to ask?! What Professor Snape is for you, McGonagall is for Jorien. I'm just swimming on her wave." Cas explained, then motioned for Jorien to go ahead and do the actual work. A typical Cas move, giving the speech and leaving the work for someone else. "This is probably going to hurt, so you might want to grab something."

"Don't worry, it takes a lot to hurt me these days." Robin sighed and for once, she would just have to trust them; there wasn't much that could go wrong anyway. "But try to keep my head intact, alright?"

Ten minutes later, and luckily without any accidents, Robin had two neat holes in her ears and could at last make use of the gift she'd received. Two studs of black onyx, small but just as gorgeous as she remembered them to be from the two times they had looked at them through the shopwindow in Hogsmeade. She smiled when she looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the subtle new detail about her appearance. The deep black really was a sharp contrast to her ashen skin, but so was her dark hair anyway. The new piece of jewelry probably wouldn't be all too noticeable in comparison to that.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, birthday girl…" Cas declared dramatically, still lounging on Robin's bed even while Robin herself had gotten up. "Now we just need to get a little colour onto your face and you're ready to seize this day!"

Robin spun around to face them in an instant, glaring at the two girls in both horror and defense. There was a lot she would let them do to her, but that most definitely did not include turning her into a canary! "Cas no! Absolutely not!"

"Cas yes!"

"Jorien?" Robin pleaded with both her tone and her eyes while moving back over to her bed and to the girls. "I already let you make holes into my ears!"

"Sorry, but it's all part of our present." Jorien shrugged with a sympathetic half smile before she moved off the bed to get ready. "Just let it happen."

"What is your present if it includes piercing my ears and painting my face?!"

"We're making you pretty, dumbass! Like they do in the movies!" Cas groaned loudly and rolled off the bed as well to pad back towards her own. "You're bloody 17 now! And you still don't have any dates! We're trying to get you one."

"Not that again…" Robin sighed in return, hiding her head in her hands for a moment to regain some composure before she started getting dressed for the day of classes. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than meddling in my affairs?"

"No." Both Jorien and Cas replied at the same time, then giggled at their synchrony, and Robin finally had to realize that resistance was futile indeed. Sometimes living with thirteen-year-olds demanded a sacrifice; sometimes Robin just had to make concessions to their youth. And honestly, she couldn't deny them a thing, being as excited as they were about this now.

"Fine…" She sighed at last, mindlessly buttoning up her blouse with long practiced moments, then tugged it into her trousers. "You may paint my face if it means so much to you. But I'll get the bathroom first, now and all to myself. And I forbid you to use anything actually colourful."

"But colour is the best part! It's ALL colour!!!" Cas cried as she struggled into her tights. "Some charcoal would do wonders on your eyes!"

"Black isn't actually a colour but a value." Jorien corrected with a roll of her eyes. "So technically you can use all the black, white and grey you want."

"Precisely! Thank you, Jorien, your thought-out input is always very much appreciated." Robin smiled proudly at the girl, who in return grinned to herself upon the praise. "Now, do we have an agreement? I get the bathroom first and you will use no colours, but you may otherwise do with my hair and face as you please. Deal?"

"Deal!"

… … …

In the end, Robin had to make another compromise: in exchange for not getting any brown paste and powder onto her face, which Cas seemed to be very fond of unfortunately, she had to agree to let them use colours, dark colours, on her eyes. Thus Robin ended up sitting on her bed, sighing repeatedly, while Cas painted her face and Jorien braided her hair. Honestly, she still didn't know how or why exactly she (the older one!) had become their dress up doll, but under the pretext of 'making her look pretty for her birthday', Robin still found herself unable to deny them. Even if, on the inside, she very much felt like running.

When all three of them made their way towards the great hall for breakfast at last, Robin still felt mildly uncomfortable. The braid Jorien had forced her hair into was rather charming actually, and also very much useful to keep the wavy, bushy mess out of her face, but she wasn't so sure about the 'smokey' black, brown and green Cas had layered around her eyes. Robin felt more like a raccoon than herself… but in comparison to what some (few) of her classmates wore on a daily basis, or those women in the magazines Cas read instead of books, it still was subtle enough to tolerate for a day. Makeup may be fun for some other people, which was fine, but it most definitely wasn't for Robin and she had a rather strong interest in not repeating this masquerade. Oh well… she still would be racoon-Robin for a day now. Besides, it would break the girls' hearts if she didn't suffer through it with a smile on her face, so that's what she did as they hurried to breakfast.

"And where would we be coming from?" A taunting voice stopped all three of them just outside the great hall, and Robin had to smile while the other two looked rather panicked upon the unexpected appearance of their potions teacher. "Miss Miller, Miss Blakeley… Punctuality is a virtue, not an option. Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago. You are late."

"So are you, professor..." Robin replied with an innocent smile, which however turned into more of a smirk as soon as her eyes met his. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

Snape approached them with long strides and his usual public facade, and the closer he came, the more Cas and Jorien hid behind Robin. She still didn't understand how they could miss the humor in his face that even now was obvious as day! All they saw was the menacing scowl he wanted them to see. That they probably wanted to see as well; expectation and prejudice were the masters of deceit in one's own mind.

"Funny." He said to Robin in a particularly flat tone that made her bite her lip to keep from laughing, then he turned to look at Jorien and Cas instead. "You two would do well to be on time from now on, even if for a mere meal. I tolerate no slacking. Now find your seats before your classmates leave nothing but their empty plates for you." With that, he motioned for them to get going, clasping his hands behind his back with that indifferent look that made Robin smile even more.

"Robin…? Are you coming?" Jorien asked carefully while Cas straight out started walking off already, gaining as much distance to Snape as possible until she disappeared out of sight. Jorien still stood between Robin and the doors, looking at her insecurely.

"You should be fine without your precious Robin for five minutes, or is that too much to ask?" Snape drawled in feigned annoyance, and Robin gave him a look before turning to Jorien.

"I'll be there in five minutes, just save me a seat and some toast, will you?" She smiled at the girl as positively as possible, who only nodded with a weak smile in return before quickly following behind Cas, out of sight.

"Did you have to scold them for something so minor?" Robin finally asked as she turned back to Snape with a small frown. "They were only late because of me, or rather because of what they did for me. Today, at least…" Really, they were usually late for all meals. No matter what day it was, and no matter if they were with Robin or without her.

"Had they been any later, all they would have found left is scrapings. It might have slipped your notice, but their classmates are more animals than civilised beings when it comes to meals." He pointed out calmly, and Robin had to sigh. He was right. "Unless you wish to show them how to use the kitchens or leave them to fend for themselves in the future, I would prefer to teach them punctuality."

"Yeah, alright, I see your point." She said with another sigh. "Nevermind. I usually prefer being early anyway."

"I am aware." He replied with a not-smirk, upon which Robin had to smile again as well. "Is that colour in your face the reason for your mutual lateness?"

"Ah, well, yes." Robin chuckled awkwardly, and before she knew her fingers nervously brushed over the rough spot of skin on her neck again. "It is, uh… it's part of their birthday present to me, I guess. They insisted on it."

For a moment Snape observed her closely, with a curious frown that made Robin feel both nervous and tingly. He leaned a little closer for a second, then back again. "Something else about you is different than it was yesterday evening, but I cannot tell what it is."

"Well, uh, I also let them pierce my ears, because they really wanted to, so it's probably that." Robin shrugged with an almost apologetic frown. Did he observe everyone that closely? Probably.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, torn between incredulity, humor and irritation. "Why would you let them do all that to you? I was under the impression that people did nice things for others on their birthdays…"

"They gave me earrings, so they also had to make sure I could wear them. And as for the colour on my face… you better don't ask what made them do that to me." She shrugged again, deeming the way he said 'nice' highly amusing. "I let them do it because it quite obviously made them happy."

"It is your birthday. People are supposed to ensure you are happy."

"Oh, I'm quite happy as it is." Robin replied with a small smirk, and a soaring heart once more. "I can manage looking like a raccoon for the day. Perhaps it'll scare Morgan off at least."

A quiet snort escaped him before he could make an effort to remain stoic, and even then he seemed to struggle not to smirk. "Raccoon certainly is not what I think of when I look at you, Robin. But you make me curious about their reason to obviously try for exactly that visual."

Now Robin had to snort as well, shaking her head to herself. Damn, she didn't want to tell him… but she also knew that she could deny him even less than the two girls. What was it about the people she cared about?! The only weak spot she knew of, and they all were entirely oblivious to it.

"If you have to know, they wanted to make me look pretty for the day." She sighed, but as soon as he even made an attempt to reply, she added, "Don't. Please. No scorn or mocking on my birthday. I know I look stupid, but I have to make concessions if I want to keep my sanity when living with them, and this was such an instance. I could have looked far worse."

"I was merely going to say that they obviously have a strange concept of beauty if they are blind enough to try to cover it up with paint." He said as if it wasn't enough to make Robin's entire body feel too hot all of a sudden. Actually, he didn't even seem to realize what exactly he had just said in the first place as he went on. "I do very well understand your need to make concessions, and your diplomacy is certainly appropriate. However you don't have to tolerate everything they do to you merely because I told you to watch over them."

"I know. That's not why I do it, not at all." She sighed, regaining control over her heartbeat by simply ignoring what he hadn't even said on purpose. "They care about me, they really do, and they only want the best for me in their own kind of way. A thirteen-year-old way, which unfortunately entails trying to draw more positive attention to me."

He frowned at that, with a lingering hint of amusement. "They paint your eyes black to draw positive attention to you? How… curious."

"I know, right?" She huffed in both humor and dread. "I for my part like black better than anything else they could've put on my fave, but it's probably the wrong colour to make other people think 'pretty' and not 'scary'. I forbid them to use bright colours though, so perhaps it is my fault that I'll scare people off all day, which I do almost every day anyway, so-..."

"Robin." He quirked an eyebrow at her, and Robin took a deep breath to untangle the mess in her head that caused her to ramble.

"Yes. Sorry. Nevermind, just forget about it."

"Give me your hand." He ordered calmly an instant later, holding his own out to her with his palm facing up. Robin's heart skipped a beat, but she did as he said without question, placing her hand in his only to feel the familiar surge of electricity running up her arm and through her body.

To her surprise, he turned her hand around to rest in his with the inside facing up as well. Then, without a word, a small spark of light flickered to life inside her palm. It glowed softly in different colours that came and went so quickly it left the light white, an addition of all colours, and yet black at once in its subtraction. Robin couldn't have described it even if she'd wanted to, for her eyes and mind were too drawn to their hands to even try such a thing. The spark grew, not into a bigger light, but into a shape, a web of atoms that made up matter one by one. It grew, blossomed and rooted until at last it took on the unmistakable shape of a flower. A flower Robin had never seen before, one that was entirely black in its impossible existence, but yet consisted of all the colours in existence indeed. She couldn't take her eyes of it as it rested in her palm, all light gone but the impossible colours remained. His hand was still curled around hers, long fingers brushing against the delicate skin of her wrist beneath the cuff of her blouse… Robin didn't know which of the two fascinated, enchanted her more. Perhaps both did, in a different way.

"Now, would you expect someone to deem this flower scary?" He asked after a few seconds, dropping his hand from hers at last.

"No…" Robin replied quietly, holding the blossom in her palm like the greatest treasure. "It's beautiful, breathtaking even. I've never seen anything like it."

"Because it stems from your mind alone, which makes it entirely unique in its existence."

"But, how… I mean…" She didn't even know what to say, leave alone what to think, neither in a positive nor in a negative way. Why had he shown this beautiful piece of magic to her? Why hadn't she known that he could do something like this in the first place?! The overwhelming urge to be closer to him overcame her when she looked up at him, and it couldn't even be lessened by his perfect neutral facade. Gods, why did he always hide when she wanted to see him the most?! "Why?"

"It is nothing but a reminder that darkness does not scare everyone." He replied neutrally, neither bothering to feign indifference nor to let his honest expression shine through. A few seconds passed in silence, and they merely looked at each other as they did so often.

"Thank you." Robin finally said, giving him the most sincere smile that had graced her lips all day. "It's a lovely gift."

"It isn't a gift." He was quick to respond though, frowning first, then looking almost humored again. "But it might counteract the racoon visual nonetheless."

Robin chuckled, closing her eyes for a second to dwell in the happiness of the moment. The overwhelming bunch of emotions tied to the impossible flower in her hand. "Well, thank you either way. I appreciate your help with my facial issues."

Finally the not-smirk was back on his face, and if Robin wasn't mistaken, so was the humor in his eyes. "What kind of… person would I be if I didn't help you even with the most obscure problems?" Again he raised his eyebrows at her, and she smiled brightly enough to light up the entire hallway, until he spoke on. "That, among other things, is why I want you to be prepared at two o'clock this afternoon."

"Huh?" Robin's brows furrowed into a deep frown in an instant. "Prepared for what?"

"To play along." He smirked for real this time, quite obviously basking in her confusion. "You will see."

Then, without another word, Snape turned on his spot and disappeared down the hallway towards the dungeons before Robin could say another thing. Two seconds later, the doors to the great hall were opened by the first students already leaving breakfast, and they stormed the hallway with enough noise and chattering to break Robin free of her frozen state. Did Snape actually enjoy being that cryptic?! He probably did; insufferable idiot.

Robin sighed to herself, looking at the flower in her hand in careful consideration, then moved to tie it into her hair with a smile. Having this little piece of magic with her, his magic, would certainly make her day a lot better, even if it was prone to cause her constant tingles. Who cares… it was her birthday, she could allow herself to enjoy one single day of dwelling in her feelings. And besides, nobody had to know who had given her such an impossible flower; it wasn't a gift after all, just a point proven.

As Robin made her way into the great hall at last, hoping that at least some kind of food was left for her, she wondered what would be happening at two o'clock. She really couldn't wait to know. Then again, the anticipation and excitement of not knowing was also quite delightful. Two o'clock… that was a third into her defense against the dark arts class. And that meant whatever was going to happen, it could only be an improvement.

______________________________

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[babylooneytoonz]

Warnings: Bucky has a nightmare, more truths revealed, Dark Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier mode .

Note – The dialogues in 'bold italics' are not mine. These are their quotes from the comics.

Link to Coffee Stains Masterlist here.

You welcomed this newly found relationship that had blossomed between you and the Winter Soldier. The two of you were inseparable, joint at the hip. If he was at the gym, you were somewhere around, and the two of you couldn't stop either giving giving each other googley eyes, or licking your lips at the sight of the other one; or bicker at something or the other like an old married couple. The Avengers were all used to your sassy comments now, and more so, Steve Rogers. It was funny how he had stopped chastising the two of you when you started using a derogatory language with each other.

"Who the hell keeps their stinky socks in their shoes and does not wash them for over a week?" You threw a glare towards your boyfriend, who was engaged in a hand to hand combat with Steve.

This was a casual scene for the Avengers now; listening to the two of you.

Bucky grunted, muttering something under his breath as he dodged a blow from the Captain and fell to his knees, rolling over his back, trying to avoid Steve's blow.

"Ask her, she doesn't even have that many hair on top of her head, and yet the fucking drain in my bathroom's blocked," he spat, pushing himself up on his feet as he flexed his arms and ducked, grabbing Steve by his waist and slamming him against the ground, making it look as effortless as possible.

You groaned in annoyance, filling up your palm into Sam's bowl of caramel popcorns, ignoring the way he just gave you a look of pure betrayal.

"Hey! That was my popcorns, did you guys see that? This woman just stole my popcorns?"

"Sam–" you turned towards him, your eyes narrowed, as you hissed, "Caramel popcorns aren't good anyway, I'm only doing you a favour by sharing these with you."

"Sam–" Bucky interjected, "this woman has a thing for taking over the things you love the most. She's taken over my wardrobe, and now my bed, last night, she kicked me off the fucking bed," he grunted, his arms held in front of his face as he blocked a punch from Steve.

A series of spins, kicks, blocks and counters followed, and by the next five minutes, the two super soldiers were smirking at each other, drinking water from their chilled water bottles as the two walked up to where you were sprawled on the couch, tossing popcorns carelessly into your mouth.

"Sam, tell your friend, he doesn't have the right to complain, I would be able to fit into my own damn clothes, if he hadn't stuck his dick in me."

"Whoa, hey! You two, knock it off. Listening to the two of you is like taking out dirty laundry, it just keeps getting dirtier," Sam commented, grabbing his bowl of popcorn, when you weren't looking and placing it on the coffee table next to him so you couldn't reach it.

To add a cherry on top of it, little Buchanan Barnes always chose to kick you hard against your ribs at just the weirdest of times.

"Well fuck," you cursed, your face contorting as a scorching, burning pain, something that reminded you of acidity, sizzled from inside of you, and your palm instantly flew to your bump, your body almost doubling over, as the team started to crowd over you, including your boyfriend.

"Well Barnes, I swear to God, if your spawn kicks me one more time .. Oof–" you groaned again, when the rebellious little punk kicked you once again, your palm now kneading over the fabric of your.. Bucky's sports fit t-shirt that you had taken over.

Wanda giggled in glee, leaning over you so she could feel the kicks too, and so did Sam.

Bucky just smirked, his arms crossed over his chest, as he towered over you with a look of triumph washed over his face that you managed to catch, "what you smirking at, Mister?"

"Nothing, atleast my kid knows how to shut you up." He lowered himself next to you, his arm coming to rest around your shoulder as a peace offering and you sighed, leaning into him, letting the rest of the Avengers gush over the kicks while you just took a deep breath and groaned every time the kick became brutal and you felt an urge to slap Bucky for injecting you with his super serum swimmer.

"Pesky bugger," you muttered under your breath, watching your boyfriend grin next to you and run his flesh hand over your stomach, before quickly kissing the back of your head.

"Well, what was that for? I thought I clogged your drain." You grumbled.

"Yeah, you do. But that doesn't mean I don't love you two." He leaned in to quickly peck on your lips before he stood up and threw out his palm towards you and you took it, stepping up to your feet.

"Yeah I feel like a fucking whale," you grumbled as the two of you walked out of the recreation room, towards your apartment.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You pulled the blanket closer over your body, letting out a soft gush of air as you rolled over on your back. Your ears perked up when you felt slight movements next to you, and your eyes fluttered open.

"Нет, пожалуйста, не делай этого."

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and swiped your palm over your sleepy eyes, trying to listen to the words shooting from your left but you couldn't understand them.

Bucky was most likely having a nightmare.

You leant over him, gently placing your palm over his chest, and your other hand stroking over his sweaty forehead, as you tried reaching him out, "It's alright, Bucky. It's okay, my love. They can't come in here. Wake up."He stirred in his sleep, but your words seemed to be working on him; he visibly relaxed, and his breathing steadied.

You sat hunched over him for a few more minutes, just stroking over his warm head with your fingers, but soon, your back had started hurting, and you felt the sudden urge to pee. Discreetly, you pulled back your hand, pulling the blankets over Bucky's bare chest, as you started sliding out of bed when suddenly, his metal arm found your wrist and he pulled you back, and you tried to pull your hand away, whispering to him, "Bucky, babe.. wake up please. You have to let go of me."

You struggled to pull your wrist away but he just gripped onto it harder, and started mumbling some barely incoherent words , in Russian, "оставляй меня, Natalia." Although you couldn't figure out anything that he had whispered, you had heard just the word you never wanted to hear from Bucky's lips, Natalia. Roughly, you pulled your wrist away from his grip, and slid out of bed, tiptoeing into the bathroom and bolting the door from the inside.

Pulling your underwear down, you lowered yourself onto the WC, and your hands flew to your head, your eyes clenched shut. Your heart was drumming inside your chest, and you were suddenly feeling not so good.

Natalia.

You had a glimpse that James Buchanan Barnes knew Natasha Romanoff from his days at the Red Room, but that's all you knew. There were no details, and never did you feel the need to ask. But you couldn't help it now, it kept stinging at the back of your head, again and again, and you felt you had to know.

"Natasha?" You knocked on her apartment door and stepped back, when you heard a groan from the inside and the shuffling of sheets, before soft footsteps reached your ears and Natasha unlocked the door, rubbing her eyes as she glanced at you, top to bottom.

"Can we talk?"

"Can't it wait?" She grumbled, under her breath, but a part of her knew, that this was bound to happen someday, only she hadn't realized it would be so soon. You were bound to ask questions, but neither she, nor Bucky had thought that it would be so soon.

"He called your name in his sleep, Natalia," you bit back on your tongue and looked away from her, not wanting to break down in front of her but you could see that she was looking at you with concerned, soft eyes and she had moved out of the way, so you could step into the room.You stepped into the dimly lit room, ignoring how Natasha had taken your arm and was now dragging you to her bed.

"I knew this would happen, eventually. I didn't think it would be this soon."

"What are the two of you hiding ? What happened at the Red Room?" Your voice came out broken, and cracked.

"Listen Y/N," Natasha's voice was soft, as she sat down next to you, and reached for your hand, causing you to stiffen in response, but you didn't draw your hand back, you waited for her to tell you, what you didn't know yet.

"You do know that I and Bucky were a part of the Russian Organization."

You stared into the darkness in her room, and hummed in response.

"Well, Barnes was one of my trainers, who trained me to become who I am today," she continued.

You blinked, feeling your eyes start getting glossy, and you forced a laugh.

"This is the non scandalous part of it all, isn't it?"

"There are some things love, there is no point trying to mull over them. Whatever I had with Bucky, it's not there anymore."

"So you had something with him." You pointed out, your lower lip trembling.

"I know ..how he thinks. We were both weapons once.. to be used."

A sudden silence took over the two of you as you two sat there, contemplating when she slowly turned towards you.

"You don't have anything to be worried about. James Buchanan Barnes and Natalia was a one time thing, we couldn't work out, and we realized that we worked together better as friends, and nothing more."

You stood up, straightening Bucky's tshirt, pulling it over your thighs and Natasha followed suite, the two of you making your way towards the door.

"Besides, it's not my place to tell Y/N, this should all come from his mouth, I hope we're good?"

You nodded, looking at her, "yeah." You mumbled in a low voice as you stepped out of her apartment and disappeared out of her sight.

You took a little detour, up on the roof and reached Bucky's apartment almost an hour later. You had expected Bucky to be asleep, but when you stepped in, he was already getting dressed in his jacket by the mirror, and he turned, giving you a look of perplexity.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"You could've woken me up."

"I tried to, but you were having a nightmare and you were calling out Natalia's name."

The way he looked at you, it looked like the words had left him. He stared into your eyes, searching for how you were feeling, but all he could see was a hollowness inside of you.

"Listen, I.." he began, but shut his mouth, when you looked away and slowly went to sit by the edge of the bed, withdrawing your gaze from him. It was as if you were stuck underwater, everything was slow to understand as he ran his hands through hair in exasperation.

"There's nothing between the two of us, you know it. You know that I am in love with you."

Although you could sense the sincerity in his words, yet , something at the back of your mind kept nagging at you.

"Then why did you not tell me about your relationship with the Black Widow? Why did you hide it from me?"

He was contemplating whether to walk up to you in the back of his mind. Finally, he took a step closer, and another one until he was walking up to your side of the bed and lowering himself next to you, so the both of you sat side by side, "I just didn't tell ya, because there was nothing to tell. I loved her once, but it was long time ago."

You stood up, as fast as you could with your baby bump, your hands on your back as you glared at him, "how is it so easy for you to say you loved her? Loved? And now you live under the same roof with the woman you used to love."

"With the woman I currently love!"

That came out wrong, Bucky knew that you would interpret his words in the wrong way as you pressed your palm to your lips, trying to suppress the whimper that you wanted to let out.

"Currently? Until another one comes along? And you toss me away?"

"Jesus, you're the first woman I ever fell in love with, ever since things between me and Natalia ended," he tried to explain, trying to reach out so he could take your hand, but you crossed your arms over your chest.

"That's supposed to make me feel better yeah?"

Bucky took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a brief second and looked up at you again, his eyes expressing a foreign emotion that you had never experienced before. Was it regret? Or was it the same thing that he had with Natasha and did not have with you?

"A long time ago, Natalia Romanova made me remember what it was like to feel human. And they punished us both for that, in different ways," he blinked, his eyes suddenly cold, as though he was lost in a distant memory. "This is why I didn't tell you, because I didnt want you to react this way. We've all had pasts, doll."

"Your past is sleeping on a floor below me right now, while mine is cold in his fucking grave."

You huffed, sniffling slightly, as you grabbed your pillow, and started making your way out, when Bucky stood up, and dashed after you, slamming the door shut so you couldn't leave, "You're overreacting."

"Bucky, I am not in the mood, not right now. We're gonna talk when I've cleared my head, I'm gonna go up to the roof and just clear my head. Please don't follow me."

He nodded, as he didn't want to make this any worse for you. He moved out of your way, and you passed through, dumping your pillow in your own apartment on your way back as you made your way up to the roof. Stars were scattered all over the sky like little snow-flakes in the night. You couldn't help but smile, feeling the wind blow your hair into a tousled mane as you pulled out your phone, and dialled Fury's number.

"Y/N? Is everything alright?"

You didn't know if everything was alright; all you knew was you needed to let this all out, as it was killing you from the inside.

"Fury? Guess what, almost no one gets out of love alive."

"Y/N, what the hell are you talking about? Where's Barnes? What did he– "

"I'm gonna go now. I just need to clear my head. Take care, Fury."

"Y/N–"

You disconnected the call and slid your phone into your pockets. Fury, once your call was abruptly disconnected, called up Bucky, telling him everything that you had just told him. "I'm going to make your life hell Barnes, I don't know what you've done, but I swear, if anything happens to her, and you're the one responsible for it, I will make your life hell."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

"Hey, what's such a cute little pup like you doing out here at the park early in the morning? Don't you have a home kiddo?" A stray little pup had made its way to your bench in the park, and was now laying on its back right where your feet were, and you were tickling its belly with your fingers.

Bucky stood behind a tree, his hood drawn over his face, as he watched you. He was worried beyond anything, he was scared that what you'd told Nick Fury was something really suicidal, but here you were sitting in a park, talking to a pup. His heart broke for you, for he could see that this was affecting you badly and he should have told you all this before. But with everything that had happened so far, he could not. And now, you had found out.

You sat back up, when you heard the sound of leaves being crushed underneath someone's boots, and Bucky stiffened, his hand flying to his gun as a reflex when he heard it too.

Your alert eyes glared at the sudden intruders in your private space, and you stood up, your eyes narrowed towards the intruders with a look of hate in your eyes.

"We thought it would be difficult to reach you, but you chose to walk yourself to us, what a nice surprise," the man with the Russian accent called out.

"Dream on, I would never make it this easy for you."

You neither had a gun, nor were you agile and flexible enough to fight them alone in a hand to hand combat. You knew you were screwed, so you had to use your mind, or maybe just run.

You took a step away, but the man was fast, he lunged at you, trying to catch you, when a gunshot sounded from behind you and the man flew back with the impact of the bullet that pierced right through his chest. You didn't need to look back to know who it was, and a part of you was relieved to see him here. Instinctively, you turned towards him and he tossed you a spare handgun that you caught midair.

Men in HYDRA uniforms kept coming towards the two of you, and Bucky had already pushed you behind him, forming a human shield around you with his body, while you aimed your gun, taking down as many HYDRA soldiers as you could, and he kept trying to deflect the shots that were fired towards the two of you mostly him, using his metal arm.

"No matter what happens, you don't step into their view, stay behind me, yeah?" he shouted at you just as you squeezed the trigger, and the bullet from your weapon hit a man's forehead, before he could shoot Bucky in his chest.

"They're too many."

"Nothing I can't handle," his words were dark, and coated in venom and for once you didn't know who it was that you were speaking with, was it Bucky, or was it the Winter Soldier. 

At first, Bucky snapped their necks with ease. Bullets rained down on him, but he deflected them with ease, and one by one, bodies were scattered all around you. It was like he was on fire; he was growling, screaming and grunting in the most animalistic way, while you kept yourself behind him at all times, but shot anyone that you could within your range.

However, somehow, neither Bucky, nor you noticed, that two of them had managed to creep behind your back, hidden underneath the shadow of the trees, and were now directly behind you.

"Bucky!" You screamed, when a sudden prick in your neck caused a surge of electricity to fly through your body, and a foreign pain filled you up. You had been tasered, and Bucky was in a pool of men, trying to fight them off while you were being dragged away, your mind barely conscious as pain rang through all your body.

The pain, however, was not from being tasered; but rather, it felt like your stomach was being stabbed brutally, and you couldn't help but cry out in anguish, kneading your fingers against the fabric that clung to your bump. The pain was so bad, you couldn't even bother rolling yourself away as the two corpses landed next to you, the minute Bucky shot them and they collapsed on either of your sides.

You didn't know what was wrong, but something wasn't right.

Bucky knelt in front of you now, trying to feel your body for any injuries, when you cried out loud, almost digging your nails into the flesh on his arms, "Buck, something is wrong with our baby."

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist :

@really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @all-art-is-quite-useless @baumarvel @janajjj @chipilerendi @nyotamalfoy @skittychat @allidoiswritewritewrite @jessyballet @x0xchristine @evansgirl7

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[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light: Chapter 4: History

A/N: Hey guys! Afternoon update since I was busy with pancake breakfasts this morning. Another Kendra chapter. Ronodin gets a little pushy, but it’s still G rated and won’t ever get worse than this, you’ll see what I mean. Remember, you are supposed to hate him. Still playing around with the chapter title for this one, and some of you who caught my analysis post a few months ago might recognize some themes.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 4: History

Kendra picked another book off the shelf, noticed it was in a language she couldn’t read, and put it back. Over half the books in this library she couldn’t read, which seems like poor planning on her part.

She wasn’t even sure she wanted to read. It had sounded like a good way to get her mind off her apparently outrageous life story, but there was really no hope of thinking about anything else.

Kendra was the seventeen-year-old daughter of a noble family, very old fashioned, that obtained their status through years of keeping the undead enslaved and trapping dragons and other magical creatures considered dangerous to mortals. Kendra, as the eldest, was expected to follow in her family’s footsteps as jailors, but had grown doubtful that their way of life was right.

Kendra had met Ronodin at the engagement party for her arranged marriage with his cousin, Bracken. Ronodin teased her that his cousin was such an ugly bore, she had fled from Bracken right into Ronodin’s arms. (Kendra had rolled her eyes when he said that). He had been invited, as family, but Ronodin was far from welcome.

He wouldn’t tell her why just yet, but promised to soon, when they trusted each other a little more. Having nearly killed him, she agreed that that explanation could wait.

Ronodin and Kendra started meeting in secret, and talking. They fell in love strolling through the dragon prison her family kept. To throw suspicion off their meetings secret, they told her family that she was fine going through with her engagement with Bracken.

Her wedding was approaching in a couple of months, and they cared for each other more than ever. Kendra knew that not even her family’s love was worth marrying anyone but Ronodin. He had sounded so amazed when he quoted her, awed that someone so amazing could ever feel that way about him.

Kendra had blushed at her own boldness, and simultaneously felt heartbroken over that fact that she had given that feeling up. She was attracted to Ronodin, certainly, but when she tried to summon the life changing love he talked about, she had nothing. Just attraction and the feeling that he was speaking to someone else.

She had apologized, and he said she would just have to let him court her again. He’d do it as many times as it took to stick, he had laughed. He would understand if she wanted to break off their engagement, but he hoped she would still give him a chance.

Kendra promised to think about it.

They devised a plan, to take place just after she and her brother participated in a coming of age trial specific for their family against the dragons of sanctuary. It was a disgusting spectacle, offering the dragons their freedom once a generation, if they can claim the wizenstone first. It would be the last thing her parents ever forced her to do, she had vowed, and arranged for it to look like her servant had kidnapped her in the immediate aftermath.

For, despite everything, Kendra loved her family. They tried to follow the traditions of their ancestors without cruelty, and they had faced hundreds of trials together. By staging her own kidnapping, she would be breaking their hearts, but in a way they would understand. She would preserve their reputation, and be utterly free.

And that was apparently who she was. Kendra hadn’t counted on losing her memory, but maybe she had felt okay doing it for her brother when she knew about her fake kidnapping going to occur. She must have trusted herself to fall in love with Ronodin again, and Ronodin to take care of her. It was a lot of trust to place in someone.

Kendra did wish she had a family picture. If she went to such great lengths to protect them, then she must have wonderful memories of them, locked under the enchantment. She picked up another book, this one in English, The Forgotten Crown.

The library kept with the crimson and black theme, and she picked a black leather armchair by a fireplace. Normal fire, this time, not blue. It was strange, when things were lit by blue fire, it washed out the red and made the black look like a void. Ronodin must have handled the design choices, she couldn’t imagine picking this out herself under any circumstances.

She wanted to warm her feet, but didn’t think she could move the heavy chair, so sat on it sideways. Her black dress rode up her thighs, but the exposed skin felt the warmth from the fire, so she didn’t bother with modesty while alone. Mendigo was standing guard, he’d knock if someone was going to come in.

Kendra curled up with her book, and started reading about what the author called the six great crowns. They were the pillars of immortality that moved the natural world through its extremes: The crowns of the Giants, the Dragons, the Underking, and the Demons, the Fairies, and the Fair Folk. Humans were the interlopers, and the author took a three whole pages to describe why humans were the absolute worst.

Their sins included but were not limited to:

-Having the audacity to not always want immortality

-Ignoring boundaries like disrespectful heathens

-Killing immortals

-Assuming they have purpose

-Not tasting good

And their greatest sin of all: daring to change. Their ability to change affected even perfectly happy immortals, how dare they! After the rant on humans, Kendra got absorbed in the discussion on the powers and functionality of each crown, and there was a diagram of how they related to each other.

It started with an upside-down triangle. Fairies on the top left corner, Demons on the top right, and the Fair Folk at the bottom point. These three crowns were defined by their morality. The Fairy Crown on light, innocence, and creation. The Demon crown on darkness, pain, destruction, and cruelty. The Fair Folk were the forgotten crown, the main topic of the book, after the background was set. They were entirely neutral, and refused to take part in wars, and only ever offered to broker peace. Their power came from their neutrality, and the author recorded rumors of the horrible fall that came from the one time they broke their neutrality.

Kendra was tempted to skip ahead, but the background came first for a reason. The second triangle overlaid the first to create a six-pointed star. They were creatures based on space. Giants were the lower left corner, and took the sky, the Underking on the lower right took the places below ground, and Dragons stood at the top able to dwell high in the air and a ways underground. Their morality mapped the first triangle. Dragons had the capacity to create and destroy, love goodness or love evil, and came in every space on that morality line. Sky Giants tended between creation and neutrality, while the undead and the underking worked between destruction and neutrality.

The first triangle also worked within the second. The fairies tended between the air and the land, Demons below and on the land, while the fair folk, in the opposite of dragons, could only dwell on the land.

The opposites were also important. Dragons were many things, but it was extremely difficult for them to be neutral. Demons and Sky Giants avoided each other’s domains, so it was most difficult to understand their relationship. The Fairy Realm and the Under Realm however, were the most combative pair of opposites. Neither could tolerate the other. Darkness would swallow light, or light banish darkness, it came down to strength, and there was very little middle ground.

What middle ground there was came from the rare case where beings abandoned their magical alignment for the opposite, spiritual alignment. There were rumors of a demon sworn to pacifism, that occasionally helped naiads, and —

There was a single booming knock, the door flinging open with a bang. Kendra spazzed, fumbling her book and sinking into the armchair. The book fell, and Kendra glared at her “fiancé”, who was chuckling at her again.

“You look lovely,” Ronodin said, pausing to take in her disheveled state.

“Your whole ‘let’s make Kendra jump’ deal makes me think yesterday wasn’t the first time I’ve attempted to kill you,” she said. Well, one sleep ago. Time was hard without clocks or the sun.

That made him laugh once more, and Kendra couldn’t help but smile in return.

“No, not the first time, and probably not the last,” he said with a grin, “But you’ve never regretted holding back.” His eyes flicked to her pale legs.

Pale, bare legs. Kendra squeaked, and tried to pull her dress down, but only managed to flip herself onto the floor. She stood up with burning cheeks and a huff.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so easy to rile up. I love that look in your eye,” Ronodin said.

“Mendigo! Come here,” Kendra called, and the puppet came into the room. “Mendigo, next time, please do some gentle knocking yourself instead of letting the guest attempt to destroy the door before entering.”

Mendigo nodded.

Kendra turned and was about to say something when Ronodin squinted at her.

“Oh, right, sorry,” she said, and with a couple of deep breaths managed to dim her own light. It was an odd sensation, like walking around with her fist clenched. She would get into the habit again eventually.

Ronodin led her into another room down the little hallway of their living space, where Chinese takeout was set up for the meal.

“I’m going to take a guess and say my suave fiancé can’t cook?” she said, noticing the cartons.

“If you’re going to be rude, you don’t have to eat,” Ronodin said, pulling out her chair for her.

“Do I know how to cook?” she asked.

Ronodin shrugged, “I don’t think so, you usually had servants for that, and you lost any memory of experiences that would help you cook. We’ll just stick to take out for now.”

“You have any trouble out there?”

“If you mean your family, no,” he said. “You seemed to have pulled it off, and no one knows where you went. It won’t be long, I think, before we can find somewhere else, if that’s what you still want.”

“Yes please,” Kendra said, serving herself some friend rice. It smelled good, even if she couldn’t remember if she liked it or not, “Look, maybe its part of the fairy thing, but I can’t live in hiding forever. This place is really nice, even if it could use some color, but if you’re going to make me fall in love with you again, its not going to be here. Sorry.”

“I’m working on it, I promise,” he said, pulling her free hand into his and giving it a kiss. He pressed it to his heart, like he had done when Seth had made her touch him with the glove, and it made her blush again.

“I need that hand for eating,” she complained, lightly twitching her hand to reclaim it. It wasn’t like she was repulsed by Ronodin, but his overly physical affection got tiresome.

“You can have it back if you promise to hold your chopsticks right,” he said.

Kendra huffed, “Not all of us grew up using these. And even if I had, I lost my memory. You should be giving me a lot more breaks than you are for that.”

He simply waited, smiling, still holding her hand tightly. Kendra sighed, “Fine, show me how?”

Ronodin grinned and helped position her fingers. Kendra ordered the variety that Ronodin had brought in order from most favorite to least, and Ronodin commented on what his favorites were.

“Careful, you’re going to want the left overs,” Ronodin said, when Kendra eyed the remainder of her favorite. “I met with our host on my way back in.”

“Oh? I thought you said I arranged this myself before I came down here.”

Ronodin sighed dramatically, “Yes, and part of your ‘oh so brilliant’ arrangement was to loan your wonderful and talented fiancé out to our host for errands. I have to go out tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but tomorrow night is probably the soonest we can hope for.”

“Oh,” Kendra said. Sure, he was often annoying, but he cared for her and was the only company she had besides Mendigo. “I guess I’ll explore the library some more.” She stood up to throw her dishes in the sink.

“You could do that,” he said, coming up behind her. “Or you can ask nicely for your other present.”

“I have the feeling asking nicely doesn’t actually go very far with you,” she put her hands on her hips and faced him, “And presents are meant to be given, not asked for.”

Ronodin’s arm snaked forward, pulling her into a kiss. She had a moment to flail, then he released her, and it was over. “You’re right, my favors have costs. Lucky for you, you just paid in full,” he teased.

“Ronodin!” she said, flushing and shoving him away. “Don’t do that.”

He just grinned cheekily and held a shopping bag towards her.

Kendra snatched it from his hands. “I mean it. I’ve known you two very stressful days, no kissing yet.”

Ronodin bowed his head in mock humility, “My lady, I didn’t mean to irritate you. I had to try the old fairy tale cure somehow. Alas, it appears true love’s kiss wasn’t the cure to this curse.”

She wanted to protest that of course it didn’t work, she didn’t love him. But she’d pulled that line once before to get him to back off and he always looked haunted when she did that. Haunted and sad, she didn’t have the heart to keep throwing that in his face, no matter how rude he was. This was at least as difficult for him as it was for her. And a small kiss didn’t hurt her, not really.

Instead she changed the subject by looking in the bag. “Wood blocks, books, fabric, and paint?”

“Your hobbies were another reason your family was suffocating,” Ronodin explained, “You liked carving, painting, and sewing more than dragon slaying and ‘monster’ hunting. Each of these materials comes from a magic source. The wood comes from different enchanted trees, the fabric is made from the hair of a goat the size of a house or lotus fibers, and the paints are mixed with tears and blood of various magical creatures.”

“Why is that important?”

“Because you are one of the select few beings that can craft magic items,” Ronodin said, “Part of you is that everfull wellspring of magic. You’ve done amazing at dimming it by the way, your control after just a day is astounding. But you can also recharge magical items that have run out of power, and when using the right materials, you can create new ones.”

Kendra’s eyebrows raise, “I thought…” she chased the elusive fact down, “I thought only wizards can create magical items.”

“They create it by crafting a vessel, using the same materials, and then binding their own magic into the object through an enchantment. You can skip that part, with the unlimited magic source you have at your disposal. You are more limited in what you can create, especially when starting out, you generally have to stick to reinforcing and enhancing the properties of the materials you’re using. When you do it right, the item will retain its magic long after you’ve put it down.”

“Wow,” she said, “And I could paint, sew, and carve?”

He nodded, “Enchanting items wasn’t at all in your family’s plans for you, so you tended to craft in secret. It will probably take you a while to pick up the skills again, but at least you’ll have something to occupy yourself if the library fails. The books in there provide some basic theories that will help.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling and holding the bag close. “This was really thoughtful. I know that since I gave up my memory and my family in one swoop, I don’t have a chance at getting them back. But little connections like this help me feel…a little less lost.”

“I love you, Kendra,” he said, simply, “I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

Kendra smiled back uncertainly, unable to reply in kind. He seemed disappointed when she didn’t respond, but moved on to helping her set up a crafting room.

What kind of person led the life that she did? What would it take for old Kendra to not be a stranger anymore? Ronodin was a lot of things, but he deserved so much more than to have her break his heart at every turn.

[llewey-watts]

Work in progress post:

Detective Watts Best Quotes

Concocting A Killer

Watts: “Ah, so you’re the one who botched it.” Murdoch: “Excuse me?”

Watts: “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Brackenreid: “Listen, Detective Murdoch did nothing wrong. The Crown is just worried that Shanley may claim prejudice if the same detective reinvestigates the case.”

Watts: “Right, right, right. You’re just biased. The coroner’s the one who botched it. Coroners. Odd lot. Far from reliable to say the least. Not to mention the smell.”

Murdoch: “Our coroner has a flawless record. And she also happens to be my wife.”

Watts: “Good God, man. You’re married to the city coroner?”

Murdoch: “Yes.”

Watts: “Oof. Is she pretty? Ah, she’d have to be pretty. I don’t know how else you could tolerate being married to a colleague.”

“The streets of this fine city are my office.”

Crabtree: “Should I read these files?”

Watts: “Absolutely not. The less you know, the more pure you remain. From purity emerges truth. From truth emerges justice. Knowing nothing allows one to see everything.”

“Our mind is where we live our lives. The only home one needs is the human skull.”

Watts: “Oh, no. You interviewed a witness?”

Murdoch: “Oh, no. She called on me.”

Watts: “Your involvement was to cease entirely. Instead, it appears you are continuing to seek a conviction. And based on what? A visual test done 12 years ago by a neophyte coroner?”

Murdoch: “Dr. Ogden is my wife.”

Watts: “Which makes it all the more likely you’re blind to her mistakes. No, it appears this dinner was a poor idea. Good night Detective.”

Watts: “The detective was wrong.”

Ogden: “About what?”

Watts: “You’re not pretty.”

Ogden: “Excuse me?”

Watts: “Look at you. Classic, Romanesque bone structure, excellent physiognomic symmetry. You’re not pretty. You’re beautiful.”

Ogden: “Well, I suppose I’m flattered.”

Watts: “Why? It’s merely an objective assessment. But that necktie **shakes his head**.

“Honestly, Inspector, how does anyone work with this man? He is some kind of renegade to whom rules are a foreign concept.”

“Let’s suppose for a moment that Mr. Shanley is guilty of this current murder. Now, does that make him more or less likely to be guilty of the first? Are you the same man today you were yesterday? Your hair is not the same. You cut and discarded it. Same with your fingernails. Over time, our entire body falls away and is reconstituted. How, then, can you be the same? Oh, but our thinking changes with maturity, with experience. In truth, the continuity of personhood may be nothing more than a delusion. In fact, it makes me question our whole profession..."

“We need to get out of doors detective. The truth is in the air. We must **deep breath** breathe it in.”

“We both know you didn’t do it. — We have to blame someone. The function of the police is to attribute blame on behalf of the community, but the community doesn’t particularly care if we blame the right person. — Why not? Man has been using scapegoats since Leviticus. The sims were placed upon the goat, the goat was banished to the desert, but mo one cared that the goat was innocent.”

“The ignorami at Station One have done it again. I clearly told them to release the man who looks like Karl Marx. They’ve let out some fellow who’s as clean-shaven as bloody Kierkegaard.”

Hades Hath No Fury

“How could I have been so unaware? My sister was in distress, and I suspected nothing. Age is no excuse for inattention. -but, sir, you found her. Your sister’s alive.- Yes. So I’m at peace.”

“Yes. Well life is but a cruel sport for whatever maker you are forced to believe in. -Detective Watts I understand...- Would your sister forsake you for a house of women who have eschewed the world in which you live?-my sister was a nun.-“

“Truth is absolute, unyielding and eternal, Jackson. It is our one constant in a turbulent universe.”

“Your face is *pause* symmetrical, but that hat *shakes his head*”

Merlot Mysteries

Watts: “Wine is proof that God loves us and wants to see us happy.”

Murdoch: “I highly doubt that”

Watts: “Oh, you reject the words of Benjamin Franklin?”

Murdoch: “Even a clever man is capable of a bad idea. no. wine, like any alcohol, is a depressant. It hinders the mind.”

Watts: “Ah, but ‘in wine there is truth.’ -Pliny the Elder.”

Murdoch: “Writers and Philosophers are seldom the best of judges. Especially when it comes to alcohol.

Watts: “Well, no one less than Louis Pasteur called wine, ‘the most helpful and most hygienic of beverages.’ Is it that you don’t enjoy the taste?”

Murdoch: “Ah.”

“Oh. Wait right there. I’m going to show you how wrong you are.”

“‘Wine can of their wits the wise beguile, make the sage frolic, and a serious smile.’”

“In the words of Diogenes, ‘What I like to drink most is wine that belongs to others.’”

Murdoch: “Spectroscopic analysis.”

Watts: “Ah, yes. Not reliable in my experience. How’s it meant to help us?”

Murdoch: “By comparing the wine in question to the light profile of other varying ages, we’ll be able to discern precisely how old it is.”

Ogden: “The older the wine, presumably, the light the color, thanks to the blanching effect of sunlight.”

Watts: “Mm, but it was kept in a cellar. Depending on conditions, two bottles of the same provenance could be wildly different. There’s absolutely to way to determine —“

Murdoch: “Thank you, Detective. Please.”

Watts: “All right.”

Ogden: “Ready?”

Murdoch: “Yes.”

Ogden: “It’s 4.3.”

**Watts waiting + messing around.**

Ogden: “It’s 5.2. 8.5.”

Watts: “Well?”

Murdoch: “[Sighs] They are all different.”

Watts: “Really?”

Murdoch: “Every grape, every year, every bottle.”

Watts: “Hm, you don’t say.”

Murdoch: “It compares to an 1880 Merlot...a 1902 Tempranillo...and...several others.”

Ogden: “Well, I suppose you told us so, Detective.”

Murdoch: “All right. Call in your expert.”

Watts: “Uh, not my expert. My sommelier.”

The Talking Dead

“No one intends to get murder **scratches his beard** and yet.”

Crabtree: “Sir, are you not concerned that you yourself are marked for death?”

Watts: “Oh, I don’y like it, but the truth is death could come to any one of us any day.”

Crabtree: “Still, no need to hurry it along.”

Watts: “Well, very little of life is under our control. Very little death as well.”

Crabtree: “Watts, have you ever been to Paris?”

Watts: “Ah yes, The City of Light.”

Crabtree: “I thought that was Buffalo?”

Watts: “No, I believe Paris came up with it first. Why do you ask?”

Crabtree: “Nina’s involved with a show that’s preforming there. She wants me to go.”

Watts: “Forever?”

Crabtree: “No, no, just a short while.”

Watts: “Well, the world is only an oyster if you choose to open it.”

Crabtree: “So go to Paris today, for tomorrow I might die?”

Watts: “Precisely.”

Crabtree: “What about you? What would you do with your last day?”

Watts: “Just this. Talk to a friend.”

Crabtree: “Who? Oh me?”

Watts: “And solve a crime.This is what were looking for.”

Crabtree: “Brilliant.”

Watts: “The City of Love with a beautiful woman. You’d be a fool to say no.”

Crabtree: “Thought you said it was the City of Light.”

Watts: “Light. Love. Are they not one and the same?”

Crabtree: “I prefer to love with the lights off, sir. I fear I’m bashful.”

Crabtree à la Carte

“A shame. It looks terrific. I think I’ll go out for lunch. Anyone care to join me? —- This disappoints me. But I soldier on.”

“I’ll work with her. People are not to be defined merely by their words, thoughts, and actions.”

“KRRRKRRRKRRRSHING SHING SHING SHING SHING! a moleta.”

“[speaking Italian] RESPONDA TO ME!”

That man’s look tho.

Watts: “It may once again be safe, but I’m not sure I’ll ever regard meat with the same enthusiasm again.”

Cherry: “Perhaps you should stick to freshly butchered cuts.”

Watts: “I thought the same. Then I read up on the abattoir conditions in the stockyards.”

Cherry: “The Shelleys subscribed to a Pythagorean diet. Da Vinci too.”

Watts: “Pythagorean? You mean vegetarian?”

Cherry: “I do. ‘My body,’ said da Vinci, ‘will not be a tomb to other creatures.’”

Watts: “Yes. Yes, it’s the only way to live, isn’t it? Join me, Miss Cherry. From this day forward, we shall follow the ranks of all moral men in our strict adherence to vegetarianism.”

Cherry: “Uh, I don’t think so. What, are we cows?”

Murdoch Schmurdoch

“Are you being facetious?”

“**To Constable John Brackenreid** Let me guess, you invited a lady to accompany you on an outing and she declined. — I would counsel you to persevere. Ask again. As Lord Nelson wrote, ‘the boldest measures are the safest,’ although I suppose a woman is quite unlike a Danish Fleet. — Yes. Tread softly, Young Brackenreid. Let her know that if her inclination changes, your offer still stands.”

Game of Kings

Ogden: “I see. Well, I don’t much fancy being stared at for the next five months.”

Murdoch: “Julia...”

Ogden: “Inspector, I couldn’t help but notice that you and all of the men were staring at the us both. Is there something you’d like to ask?”

Brackenreid: “Uh, no.”

Ogden: “Constable Crabtree?”

Crabtree: “What? [Chuckles]”

Ogden: “Higgins?”

Higgins: “No, ma’am.”

Ogden: “What about you, Detective Watts? You seem like a curious fellow.”

Watts: “Well, there is one thing.”

Murdoch: “What is that?”

Watts: “When’s the baby coming?”

Crabtree: “Oh!”

Brackenreid: “Bloody hell, Watts! They wanted to keep it a secret.”

Watts: “How could they do that when everyone clearly knows what’s going on here?”

Free Falling

Watts: “One hopes this won’t put too much of a strain on their relationship.”

Crabtree: “How so?”

Watts: “In the face of great loss, emotions can be misdirected. Feelings amplified. I knew a young couple who experienced a similar issue. They never recovered.”

Watts: “The secret to dealing with gruesome remains is to replace natural instinct with logic.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Okay. How?”

Watts: “Consider an ant. Imagine you trod upon one, crushing it, and leaving it’s body mangled beyond recognition. Now, does this disturb you?”

Constable Brackenreid: “Not really.”

Watts: “Exactly. So we simply apply the transitive law. If we are not disturbed by an ant, there is no reason to be disturbed by a beetle. If not by a beetle, then not by a caterpillar. Nor a butterfly, nor a sparrow, nor a fish, nor a rabbit, not a dog...nor a human. What we have here, then, is no more disturbing than the squashed remains of an ant.”

Hart: “What’s this?”

Watts: “A reminder of the inhumanity of man, Miss Hart.”

Hart: “How poetic.”

Watts: “Constable? It seems something’s troubling you.”

Crabtree: “How so?”

Watts: “There’s an expression on your face that suggests you have a thought in your head.”

Crabtree: “Do you remember I asked you about visiting Paris?”

Watts: “No.”

Crabtree: “And then I was away for some time?”

Watts: “No.”

Crabtree: “No. Well, in any case, I did. I went to Paris with Nina.”

Watts: “Mm.”

Crabtree: “And she wants to go again, but for good.”

Watts: “So you’re considering leaving us all behind?”

Crabtree: “I don’t want to. My whole life is here. But I could imagine a life there. I don’t know. If I...If I don’t go, I lose Nina. If I do, I lose everything else that’s dear to me.”

Watts: “One loss doesn’t outweigh the other?”

Crabtree: “The enormity of either seems too great to contemplate.”

Watts: “Oof. Well...I can’t give you any advice. But I can tell you what I know. I know that we spend our whole lives holding on to what we have. We fear loss as much as death itself. But without loss, there is no change. Without change, there is no? Life.”

Crabtree: “Detective. You realize there’s nothing written on the blackboard, right?”

Watts: “Uh, yes, but it provides a frame of reference.”

Crabtree: “Ah.”

Brothers Keepers

“Of course I’m not certain. Memories are fragmentary impressions at best. The mind moves like a flock of starlings. It’s hard to pin down a thought, let alone a memory.”

“Did I have reason? Nigel Baker tortured and killed a man I...A man who was in every way my brother. Someone who deserved my protection. I had ample reason to kill Nigel Baker. But as I have already made clear, I didn’t recognize him. So did I kill him with intention? No. Am I sorry he’s dead? No, I’m not. To be honest, even if given the chance to exact my revenge, I’m not sure I’m capable of it. Obviously, my philosophy rejects that very idea. No one asks to be the way they are, not even boys like Nigel Baker.”

In reference to justice being found:

Watts: “Where is that to be found? I’ve been asking myself that. To be honest, I’m unable to think of much else.

Murdoch: “You seek justice.”

Watts: “I crave it. If I could, I would demand it. I want the man who killed my brothers to feel their pain. To feel my grief at what he did to them. But he’s dead. At the hand of his father. Did he even know why? And now the father will likely hang. Is that justice?

Brackenreid: “Of a sort, I suppose.”

Watts: “Then why don’t I feel better?”

Annabella Cinderella

Constable Brackenreid: “Do you think I’ll get a chance to meet him?”

Crabtree: “Who? The lawyer? What do you want to meet him for?”

Constable Brackenreid: “I-I followed the trial. I felt sorry for her.”

Crabtree: “John, she killed her mother with an ax.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Harriet Rawlins wasn’t her mother. Annabella was a home child.”

Crabtree: “So that makes it alright?”

Constable Brackenreid: “She was beaten and tortured. Her home sister admitted as much.”

Crabtree: “The home sister that Annabella then tried to murder?”

Constable Brackenreid: “Rosemary Rawlins was abusive as well.”

Watts: “That’s what made it such a brilliant defense. The victim was painted as a villain, the villain painted as a victim. Annabella Cinderella.”

Crabtree: “So you’re a fan of the lawyer as well?”

Constable Brackenreid: “He took her case for free.”

Watts: “Oh, nobody’s motives are purely altruistic. It’s all in the service of his political aspirations. He running for mayor, don’t you know?”

Crabtree: “Thank you very much, Detective Watts, for everything. You as well, Mr. Daniels.”

Constable Brackenreid: “And I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”

Watts: “Of course you’re sorry. It doesn’t change anything, so why waste energy in saying it?”

Constable Brackenreid: “Does Detective Murdoch know?”

Watts: “No, he doesn’t. And that’s not the question you should be asking right now.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Sorry, I...”

Watts: “Nope.”

Constable Brackenreid: “W-What is?”

Lawyer: “How do we find her?”

Watts: “Ah. On the train over, I went through the file from the Crown prosecutor. There’s one more person we should protect.”

Lawyer: “Who’s that?”

Watts: “The doctor who filed the death certificate and attended the case.”

Lawyer: “Dr. Beattie was never called to testify.”

Watts: “He provided evidence that helped convict her.”

Lawyer: “Good point. Let’s go.”

Watts: “No. You stay. **waves gun in the air** This is police business. All right.”

Constable Brackenreid: “I’m not saying she’s innocent. I just pointed out that there are other people who may have wanted to kill her mother.”

Watts: “Which, if they did, would ipso facto make her innocent.”

Crabtree: “Did she say she was innocent?”

Constable Brackenreid: “She did, yes.”

Watts: “‘Twas ever thus.”

Constable Brackenreid: **opens the door** “Oh, my God.”

Watts: “Still think she’s so innocent?”

Constable Brackenreid: “This is my fault.”

Crabtree: “It’s jot your fault, John.”

Watts: “Losing the prisoner was your fault. This is merely a consequence. One cannot be accountable for every consequence, because the consequences of every action are infinite.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Watts: “Your feelings are irrelevant. It’s simply the truth of it.”

Crabtree: “It does confirm our fears. The girl’s out for bloody revenge.”

[thatiranianphantom]

marry me (betty/jughead)

(the one where bughead are married af and everyone knows it and everyone mocks them)

They never realized it, until people around them started pointing it out. It seemed a little ridiculous at first.

To be fair, they realized their situation was far from typical. They were eighteen, not yet in college, living at home with their parents, who were also dating. Not normal. But they were young, still in high school.

So, yes, their friend’s whispers did seem odd.

Theirs was a happy relationship, one they had been in for many years. They struggled to remember what life was like outside their relationship, and it became the target of no small amount of mockery from their friends.

They were in sync, and they always had been. But while the romantic drama of their friends swirled around them, they kept a very even keel. It was normal. Stretching themselves, they would even call it something their friends could aspire to.

Their friends, however, called it something different. They mumbled under their breath, and Betty and Jughead only caught snatches of words like “married” and “boring.”

And by comparison to the things their relationship had been tested through, perhaps their friend’s issues did seem a little boring. So when Reggie would come to them and complain that the girl he’d known for all of ten days hadn’t texted him back in an hour, or when Veronica complained that Archie wasn’t picking up on the “very obvious” clues she had left him when she was sick ( I told him chicken soup would make me feel better. He said it probably would, and then he went to practice!) it did seem a bit…juvenile.

And that perhaps made them feel a bit…dated. Though no more so then when Cheryl was ranting to them about some perceived grievance with Toni when they were not paying the proper amount of attention.

She leaned back with a scoff and cast her eyes between them.

“You guys just don’t get it,” she scoffs. “It’s been too long for you. You’ve never felt the way I do.”

It slips out without Jughead particularly meaning it to. “Now, now,” he says in a tone he hopes is soothing, but not inviting of more complaining. “We were once young and in love as well.”

She scoffs. “Yes, perhaps a million years ago, Grandpa.”

------------------

It doesn’t get better from there. In fact, it gets worse. More things start getting pointed out to them, like when Betty grabs his third piece of toast out of his hand.

Archie is sitting at the island in the Cooper home and observes Jughead’s noise of protest. Betty, however, shakes her head.

“No more gluten, Jug. It bloats you, remember?”

(Even Archie bites down a laugh at that.)

Or when he tries to kiss her goodbye at Pops during exam season, and she pulls away. They had admittedly been a bit more snippy with each other than usual, and he’d heard the same complaint over and over again.

“Shave, or you’re not getting anywhere near me.”

He bites back the same response he has been saying for three days. “I am too tired to shave!”

------------------

There are certain things, even for the relationship veteran he now considers himself to be. Like, before living with his girlfriend, he wasn’t aware that there was a wrong way to fold the towels. Or that one could chew gum arrogantly. Or that not putting the spatula back was mainly an act of war.

Also, how many questions Betty asked him that were secretly rhetorical. More than once, she had asked him what he wanted for dinner. He had perceived it as an innocent, genuine question. He was incorrect.

There was, in fact, a correct answer, and he was expected to know it. He gleans that info from Betty, turning away as soon as he makes his dinner suggestion and informing him he is wrong.

They have their friends over for dinner that night. He eats a garlic roll, and Betty informs him that if he has any interest in kissing her that night, he will not eat it.

Perhaps he feels like she’s bluffing, or maybe he just does it to annoy her. It’s a mistake, and he learns that when he comes to bed and finds a blanket and pillow arranged on the floor for his convenience.

They spend a lot of time together, much more so than most high school couples. But he’s never gotten along with anyone better than he’s gotten along with Betty. That is the case almost all the time.

But then there are those times where they’re on their third day straight of leaning over their murder board, and he is apparently annoying her, but fears hazarding a guess at how.

She demonstrates for him by sucking a breath in and out. “That. You’re doing that, and it’s really annoying.”

He looks at her incredulously. “Breathing? My breathing is annoying you?”

She gives a sharp nod, and he huffs out an amazed breath. “Okay, I’ll stop,” he bites sarcastically.

She gives an approving nod. “Good. Do that.”

------------------

Looking back for both of them, perhaps moments like these were the genesis of the “married” comments, though they’re 18 and unmarried. Sometimes the married comments expand out to their friends, calling them “Grandma and Gramps” and ribbing them about mortgage investments.

It’s good-natured to a point, but when they finally get accused of being, quote, “a level of boring comparable to being 45 years old with four kids and a mortgage”, then they tend to hit back.

Betty straightens her back and glares at Archie, today’s offending comedian.

“Jughead and I have been together for 3 years. We’ve known each other for thirteen years, and we’ve moved past being recruited into mob schemes, or using sex to communicate. Also, we have single-handedly solved cases that even the police seemed to have given up on while maintaining a relationship that all you young whippersnappers are jealous of. We’re Bughead. We’re adorable.”

Jughead hums in agreement. “That’s love, bitch.”

They high five without looking, taking in their friend’s faces. Some are barely holding back laughter, Archie’s mouth has fallen open, and even FP, listening from the background, looks a little surprised.

Turning to Alice, he looks for reassurance. “Alice, I’m a good sheriff, right? You’d tell me if I wasn’t?”

[peeterparkr]

limits of desire⤳t.h.||20

chapter 20: the honeymoon.

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the silence and the halloween party

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol, just a little angsty but not really

word count: 5.7K

song I recommend to listen while reading:

if i could fly-one direction

night changes-one direction

back to you-selena gomez

secrets-one republic

change my mind-one direction

listen to one direction 

previous chapter epilogue series masterlist wanna be tagged?

Silence is such a tricky concept when it comes to love. Silence is a tragedy when two lovers can’t say what they truly want. Comfortable silence sounds ideal when you go past the zone of judgement. Y/N and Tom had always loved the silence between them, when they could spend an afternoon doing nothing, each in their thoughts and no feeling of anxiety or discomfort. That’s the ideal. 

But they had come to the tragedy silence, once which felt like having their voice cut by their own hands. It would be easier had they left things unclear. It’s easier to know someone doesn’t love you back and go separate ways. 

Yet they knew they loved each other. And they knew they were meant to be. So hard to part when you both know you want to be together. But when one’s love is that strong then it won’t matter. 

But it did, didn’t it? 

They didn’t like each other anymore. But they did. However, they had to pretend like they didn’t. Or pretend they were not aware the other existed. 

That was the agreement they had reached, become strangers. But how can one pretend to be a stranger to someone whose lips you can still taste in the corner of your mouth? 

To play pretend they didn’t hear each other’s name whenever the other came up in conversation. To ignore the tickle in their tummy if someone dared to mention the other. 

Because they had to grow, they had to heal and they had to learn. But their absence was too much sometimes. 

Tom and y/n hadn’t talked since. Silence. 

However, they had cheated. They had seen each other, incidentally, but avoided their glances even if they both knew they were staring. Going to places where both knew they’d find each other. That wasn’t considered like breaking a rule, was it?

It had not been planned, but it had been wished. Tom had walked in to their favorite cafe with the only desire to be reminded of her, and it seemed she had thought the same thing. They hadn’t initially seen each other, but as Tom was looking around, he saw her. And he was reminded of a simpler time. 

Y/N with her notebook, a pencil pressed against her lips, her hair tied up as she hovered through her keyboard, and as she stared at an open old book. A half bitten croissant and a lipstick stained coffee mug. So focused on whatever she was doing, like the good old days where he had met her there and she had a paper, or an exam or whatever that her classes were putting up with her now. 

And Tom had felt how his heart had stopped, because it had been a month already. And he had felt like he had just been stabbed right in his chest but healed right away. 

Then she looked up and dropped the pencil, as her eyes landed on him. They stared into each other's eyes and it felt eternal. But Tom quickly cleared his throat and looked away. 

They weren’t ready, and they both knew it. But Tom had dared to look back up again, and she gave him a heart full of sad smiles, Tom gave her a smile back and then chuckled to himself. 

And Tom tried to ignore her but kept glancing at her, and she looked better. 

And it became a routine, one that couldn’t be spoken. Sometimes, they’d incidentally be at the same cafe or at the bakery at the same time on Sundays,  but never look into each other’s eyes and never even dared to speak a word. But they could steal a glance or two, and dedicate a smile. They’d sit across each other, usually, y/n curled up with a book, or writing on her pad or typing. 

Tom would bring in scripts, or just stare at his phone. 

It was their secret. 

That was at the beginning, at least, but then they got busier, and Tom had to leave to film. 

Tom knew she had lost her almost  job at the BBC after the events at the press conference, however a magazine had searched for her. Now she was writing for a fashion magazine in their wedding section, the biggest irony one could think of. 

Tom had read each and every one of her articles, but the first one she’d written. He’d kept in his heart. 

Tom would re-read it again and again, memorizing its words, and he’d read all of them. She’d changed her name on instagram, too. She called herself “The Runaway Bride” that was her section on the magazine. Now her life was ruled completely by the title of it. Tom understood it was better than having the other nicknames they had given her as of when she had rejected him. 

But she was different. She had a blog, she was writing, and she would post poems sometimes. At least that’s what he’d gotten from a quick stroll through her instagram. Nothing too big. 

But Tom eventually stopped looking at it, because they had agreed on that. They were supposed to become strangers. And this wasn't doing this. 

Award season had begun and every time a reporter would stop him, he’d try to imagine that y/n could be there, interviewing him for real, instead of the crazy and silly imaginings they would come up with. He missed her. 

.He wondered if y/n was ready. He probably wasn’.t. Because they had agreed on it, we’ll search for each other when we no longer need each other. And the fact that he still had to search for her meant he needed her. 

And their visits faded away, and that’s when it all started to turn on the lights. He remembered her, for sure, in the details. Like in the mornings when he was drinking his tea and asked himself if he wanted lemon and honey or cream and sugar. Or whenever he was watching Friends, and he’d turn around to quote it with her, and he’d realize that she wasn’t there. Sundays felt different. 

He wondered if it was bad to think about her from time to time, wondering if she was alright. He didn’t understand his heart anymore. But Tom knew, this time was for her the same as when she had left. This was the reflection she needed. 

And she had traveled to Paris, to Milan, and to Prague. Her job, Tom knew. And he had traveled to, press tour, filming. 

And Tom dated. Once, or twice. Actual dates, not one night stands. He had gone out, and played it all. But it was just a way to confirm it more. He loved y/n and there was no one else he wanted to be around. 

And Tom would sometimes sit down and dress up and he’d have nowhere to go, but he knew it was good to wait, because the moment she came back, he’d give her all his love. But he couldn’t help but stare at the clock. 

The months went by and by. And he had hovered over her instagram page and realized it, they’d become strangers. They knew nothing about each other anymore. She had texted him on his birthday, he had texted her on hers. 

Something weird had happened, something nobody had seen coming. Not Y/N and Tom at least. Harrison and Lizzie had started dating. 

But Tom guessed that he had been so selfish and so focused on y/n that he hadn’t seen that Haz and Lizzie had grown closer since Tom and Y/N’s first kiss. They had started texting each other, and seeing each other, trying to solve their friends’ stupid decision. And eventually, they’d hang out with each other with the simple excuse they wanted to see each other. 

Tom would try to ask about y/n but Haz wouldn’t let him. And Lizzie would be hanging out at their place and Tom would try to sneak a question or too, and Lizzie would answer: 

“She’s not ready yet, Tom. Neither are you. But she’s alright.” 

Haz had told him that y/n had gone out in a few dates, too. 

“Haz told you?” Liz asked. “Huh, he shouldn’t have but yes, but… Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but they weren’t… Great, she had a good time but there were no second dates if that’s what you’re asking.” 

And sooner or later, it was around Halloween. 10 months without her. But he hadn’t been thinking about that, not for the last few months at least. She did cross his mind every now and then. 

But he didn’t mind it, he was getting ready for a Halloween party that Harrison was throwing. Haz and Liz were going to go as Bonnie and Clyde. 

Tom had decided to go as Hercules, Haz had given him the idea, it could hurt no one, right? 

And he was getting ready, everything was fine.

But Tom was having a good time, the music was great, his friends were there and the games were fun. He was fine. He had had a couple beers. But he was okay, some friends of his were there. And some friends of Liz’ too. He recognized Hannah and Jess whom he hadn’t seen since… the wedding. He felt weird, seeing them. 

But he continued to ignore it, he was okay. And then it happened. Just like every other single time, he felt like the music had suddenly stopped. 

The door had opened and he swore he could listen to the air outside just as the light hit her just in her smile. Her hair seemed shorter, and her cheeks and lips were pink. She was followed by no other than a guy, he looked handsome enough. And Tom shattered right there. He imagined all the scenarios, maybe she had met him at her job, or maybe at the coffee house that one time Tom had not gone to, or maybe in Paris, or Milan or Prague. Was this the second time? Had y/n realized she truly didn’t want to be with him? Had she come to ask him again to be her maid of honour? Had she already married? 

But then as he saw their interaction it seemed to be a mere coincidence, two strangers who had walked in at the same time. Y/N ignored the guy as he walked in saying hello to some of the people already having fun. She stayed there taking off her coat revealing a pink dress, Megara, Tom acknowledged. Tom understood then, why Haz had been so insistent on the Hercules costume. And Tom realized it then that the guy who had walked in was in no way dating y/n. She lifted up her bags and walked over to the table where the drinks were, she took out some bottles and a bag of crisps. 

Tom had zoned out, and his eyes were directed at her and only her. Harry had replaced the empty beer on Tom’s hand with another beer. 

Tom’s eyes widened. 

“Bottoms up, or… offer one to her, maybe?” 

But Tom couldn’t even move. He watched as a tipsy Lizzie had approached y/n and hugged her. 

She seemed nervous. He watched her shake her head and look around the room, playing with her hair. 

“Did… did you know?” Asked Tom. 

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, but they forbid me to give you a heads up,” Harry admitted. “Was it… Are you alright?” 

Tom sipped his beer. “I… I dunno.” 

“That’s why you’ve had a beer in your hand all night, ‘right?” Harry explained. 

“Why…?” 

“I think you’re ready, ain’t you?” Harry asked. “‘Cause she is, at least, Haz told me that she asked if she could come.” 

“She’s ready?” Tom watched her as he saw Lizzie trying to calm her down, too. She hadn’t seen him. 

“Oi, to be in the same room as you, at least,” Harry told him. 

Tom nodded. “Right, but I feel like I shouldn’t… Walk up to her, right? It’s...it’s been a while, what would I even say?” 

“A hello wouldn’t hurt.” 

Tom shook his head. “Not, not...yet.” 

Harry didn’t push it. But Tom avoided y/n, but he saw Haz and Tuwaine talking to her. Even the twins, he guessed they had missed her. And a shy smile was on her. But he noticed something, people weren’t leaning in. She wasn’t whispering. Tom thought about how different things would have been had this party been two years ago, Tom would have made sure to have something to make pink mimosas, and he would be flirting with her, on the couch probably, hugging her as they played something, but he’d end up with someone else. 

But they weren’t talking, they hadn’t even seen each other in the eyes. Probably, Tom guessed, she had seen him and tried to steal a glance. 

Eventually Tom walked to the table where the drinks were. He was pouring some water when he felt someone approach him. 

“What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” The voice asked. 

Tom went stiff as he turned around. 

She was there, with that smile she had, one he remembered, the sad apologetic one. Tom had to lick his lips as he stared at her. 

“Hi,” Tom finally breathed in. 

“Hi,” she bit her lip.

He didn’t say anything, instead, he just tried to adjust his grip on his red cup of water.  

“I… I know it was a risky move,” Y/N started. “But I…” 

Tom smiled. “No, no… it’s… it’s perfect,” he grinned. “Uh… how, how…” 

“I’m good,” y/n admitted. “What about you? I saw you just came back from filming…” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tom ran a hand through his hair.

Y/N looked up and down. “Hercules, huh?” 

“Yeah, Haz insisted,” Tom chuckled. “Now I...kind of see why, Megara,”  he grinned as he saw her costume. 

“Nice knees,” she giggled. 

Tom blushed, rolling his eyes. “I’m kind of pulling it off, ain’t I?” Tom grinned. 

“You… actually are,” y/n laughed. “Wonderboy. The hair looks good,” she said, ruffling it a little. “Okay, turn around,” she chuckled as he did, trying to show off. “Yeah, yeah, looks good.” 

“You… you look very beautiful, too,” Tom admitted making her blush. “Can’t believe they set us up, though.” 

Y/N laughed. “Liz asked me about a month ago whom I was dressing up as for Halloween, I told her Meg to shut her up and then she actually bought this.” 

“She did?” Tom chuckled. 

“Yeah, at the end I was going to do a last-minute costume, but she had it,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

Tom gulped. “Oh, so you’ve known about this for a month?” 

“Didn’t know it would be…” Y/N trailed off. “I mean I knew I’d go to a party, but I well—“

Tom wished he had pockets to dig his hands in. “Right,” Tom laughed. 

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted. 

He smiled. “I’ve missed you, too.” And they looked into each other. “Uh… Can I offer you a drink?” Tom asked. 

She grinned. 

“Sure, a beer would be good.” 

Tom looked up for it and then stared at her. “This is weird isn’t it?” 

“I wouldn’t—Kinda, yeah, kinda weird.” 

Tom looked around. “Let’s go outside,” Tom suggested and y/n followed him, 

“We agreed on being strangers,” Tom said as they walked outside, a few other people were there, but they found a spot where they could sit. 

Y/N looked at him. “After all we’ve been through, I can’t pretend I don’t know you, Thomas.”

Tom nodded, they clicked their beer together and then proceeded to take a sip. 

“I mean we could pretend,” Tom suggested. “Maybe we could go back in time, Halloween 6 years ago.” 

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, right. Have you any perfume hanging around so I can spray it on you?” 

Tom chuckled. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

She shrugged. “Maybe.” 

“No, but—“

“You don’t feel like a stranger,” she nudged him. 

“But I could be, you know?” Tom grinned. 

“And what would you do if you were a stranger?” Y/N asked. “You wouldn’t even look at me if it weren’t for our history.” 

Tom looked at her. “What?” 

Y/n chuckled. “Please there are lots of prettier girls out there.” 

And it felt like an old conversation, one they would’ve had before. Like they used to because, in a way, it didn’t feel weird, it felt like the conversation they could’ve had had she not returned last year engaged. 

“Yet I’m here with you,” Tom pointed out.

Y/N grinned. “Hmm lucky me.”

“I would be here anyway,” Tom chuckled. “I mean you’re dressed up as Megara, it’s kind of meant to be, isn’t it?” 

“Meant to be?” Y/N chuckled. “Or more like those two dickheads over there are onto something,” y/n pointed out as she signalled Haz and Liz who had their eyes glued on them. Tom and y/n flipped them off at the same time and then proceeded to laugh together. But then the laugh quickly faded out. 

“But if I were a stranger…”He cleared his throat and walked away then back to her, as y/n watched him with curiosity. “Hey.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Hi?” 

“I’m Tom,” he grinned. “Can I sit here?” 

“Sure, a friend just left,” she chuckled. 

“Hm, a friend,” Tom smiled sitting down beside her. “So what’s your name?” 

“Tom—“She chuckled. “We don’t have to do—“

“No, no, hey, we are strangers, I wanna get to know you.” 

She glared at him but he winked at her, making her blush. 

“My name is y/n,” she grinned. 

“Hmm… funny name,” Tom pointed out.

 “Hey!” She nudged him. 

“Sorry, I’m honest, you should know that about me,” Tom shrugged. “Which is basically a way to shield me on being a jerk.” 

“You don’t seem like a jerk,” she smiled. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” 

She giggled. “I’m… a reporter and a writer, I work at the BBC and I occasionally write for a magazine.” 

Tom bit his lip. “That’s great.” 

“What about you?” 

“I’m an actor,” Tom said. 

“Ah cool, have I seen you in anything?” She teased. 

“Mm,” Tom scrunched his nose. “Probably not, maybe this project, you may have heard of it… The avengers? I play this guy Spiderman.” 

Y/N shook her head. “Never heard of it,” she lied and let out a laugh. 

“Yeah, no, it’s pretty small,” he smirked. 

“Someday you’ll have your big breakout don’t worry,” y/n grinned. 

“So you’re a reporter that must… mean you travel a lot!” Tom asked. 

She frowned. 

“You seem like someone who’s travelled lately,” Tom said condescendingly. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “So someone’s been looking at my Instagram.” 

“How could I? We just met,” Tom smirked, sipping his beer. “But is that a way of giving me your Instagram? Are you flirting with me?”

“Tommy,” She rolled her eyes. 

“Already starting with nicknames, sweetheart?” Tom teased. 

Y/N glared at him jokingly. 

“Well, have you travelled?” 

“Reporters usually—“Y/N cleared her throat. “Well they usually don’t do it that much, but yeah, I have travelled.” 

Tom bit his lip. “Where to, lately?” 

“Recently went to Italy.” 

“What did you do there?” 

y/n sighed and looked away. 

“Hm?” Tom pushed. 

“I… Tom, I should’ve...Told you before,” y/n bit her lip. 

“What?” 

“I got engaged.” 

Tom stopped. He felt cold. He felt sick. He wanted to get sucked into the earth. This was the same shit all over again. He went pale. He was sweating cold. 

But he was mature enough, and though it hurt, he knew that this had been a consequence of the silence and he should've stopped her when he could’ve. But if she had taken this decision, it meant that they never should have been in the first place, if finding herself meant she was in love with someone else, then he had to agree with it. 

“I...well, I’m happy for you.” And he meant it, in a way he was happy for her. 

Y/N then burst into laughter, as she threw her head back. 

Tom frowned. “What?” 

“Oh my god, I’m joking!” She explained in between laughs. 

“What?” 

“I’m not engaged, oh my god,” she said. 

Tom felt the warmth coming back to his body. He had to stand up to laugh nervously to himself. 

“Oh my god,” y/n laughed. “You actually believed it?” 

Tom rubbed his hair and his face, nervously. Now chuckling embarrassed. “How could I not? God,” Tom chuckled, placing a hand on his chest. “I almost had a heart attack.” 

“I...oh my god, no I’m sorry,” she giggled, standing up, placing only one hand over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry it was too soon.” 

Tom pulled her into a hug, because he felt like he had wanted to wrap himself around her since he had first seen her walk in. She gave in to the hug, and nuzzled into him, she’d missed him too, Tom guessed. 

“I hate you,” he stated. 

She grinned. “You should’ve seen your face.” 

He let her go and sat back again. “You suck.” 

“I know,” she grinned, sitting back down. “But see? We can’t act like strangers.” 

“You dropped that bomb only to prove that?” 

“A stranger wouldn’t have reacted that way,” she winked at him. 

Tom laughed. “Well, I’m sorry?” Tom was dignified. 

“We’re not strangers, Tommy, even if sometimes I wish we were.” 

“Yeah, after that I wish I didn’t know you either,” he joked, nudging her. “

She smiled, slightly. 

“It would be too ironic, wouldn’t it? Had I really been engaged, but I—It would be impossible,” she confessed. “Maybe it sounds conceited , but… It would be pretty stupid even if I was dating someone.” 

Tom watched her. 

“Dating is underrated,” Tom agreed. 

“Have you dated?” Y/N asked. 

“I—Well, I have,” he admitted. 

“Yeah, me too, they set me up a few times,” y/n accepted. “How did they go? Are you seeing anyone? Met anybody?” 

“I have,” Tom admitted. 

It was y/n’s turn to become stiff. He saw how the light in her eyes faded away and the smile she was wearing disappeared. She had to shift in her place but nodded. 

“Oh,” she licked her lips. “Cool, what’s her name?” 

“I’m not sure if I should tell you,” Tom sighed. “It’s…” 

“Is it serious?” Y/N asked, and Tom could tell she was trying to speak with the least poison she could. 

Tom shrugged. “I mean, well. Kind of.”  

Y/N played with her fingers. “Well, I’m…” Y/N looked around. “Maybe you can give her someday that ring you bought, the Tiffany’s one.” 

Tom’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“You know, the one that was in your nightstand a few months ago,” y/n snaked. 

“I wouldn’t give her that ring,” Tom chuckled, nervously. “How did you know?” 

“Why not?” Y/N smiled. 

“Y/N.” 

She smiled sadly. “If you love her, don’t let her go.” 

Tom felt a stab on his heart and then rubbed his face. “Oh god, how do you do it?” 

“What?” Y/N frowned. 

“I was trying to pull off the same stupid joke you made yet I’m here feeling guilty for even coming up with it,” Tom scoffed, letting out a gentle and embarrassed chuckle. 

“So you’re…?” Y/N frowned. 

“No, I’m not seeing anybody,” Tom laughed. “How could I?” 

And she finally breathed out, nervously as she loosened up herself. “Oh, you looked so serious,” she giggled. “Dumbass! I really believed it.” 

“You don’t give much credit to yourself, y/n,” Tom pushed back a loose strand of hair. “You sometimes forget I’ve been in love with you since we first met, and I haven’t stopped loving you since.” 

She blushed and stared into his eyes, and he felt it again, he felt his soul naked with her, as if she knew all his secrets. But he didn’t have to have any secrets with her. 

“That’s good to know,” she smiled as her fingers finally searched for his hand.

“I do want to know, y/n,” he cleared his throat. “What ring are you talking about?” 

She shrugged. “I...remember that day before the dancing lessons?” y/n asked him. 

“I...yeah?” 

“Well, I went to your room to search for a charger and I… opened it and I found it,” she admitted. 

Tom felt his heart break. “Oh, yeah.” 

She stayed quiet. 

“Well, before I knew you were…. Engaged, I well, I may have thought about going down on one knee,” he admitted truthfully. “But I… well, I don’t have it anymore.” 

She nodded. 

And they stayed quiet, for a bit. Drinking their beers. And the party was continuing around them. And Tom was sure that he should kiss her, but it wasn’t the time. Right now, it really wasn’t the time. Even if he was almost certain she loved him still. But maybe they truly were strangers now, maybe they had always been strangers. Because they had kept secrets, secrets that shouldn’t have been kept. But she felt like home, like listening to an old song, or like tasting an ice cream that you used to love in your childhood. 

And even if everyone else was drunk enough and loud enough, he knew that they were quiet. The moon was hitting her on her nose, and she was taking his breath away. Tom felt defenceless. 

“I had to stop myself from calling, even if I did this one time” she whispered. Tom watched her. “I had all this time to be apart from you and I only could think on the day we’d see each other again.”

Tom watched her carefully. “The boys missed you.” 

“Did they?” Y/N grinned. 

“Yeah,” Tom gulped. “They missed your laugh around the house.” 

She grinned. “Oh, nice.” 

“And the path you left with that perfume,” he continued. “And they realized that red m&m’s exist,” he chuckled. “And they missed you because no one would finish my Friends quotes, so they had to learn them.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “And they missed that there was no one leaving books around the house, and they pointed out that we no longer were randomly interviewed so we didn’t have anyone to practice our oscar interviews with.” 

She blushed. “They missed all of that, huh.” 

“Yeah,” Tom took a deep breath. “But hey, you’re back, right?” Tom gulped. “I mean because they’ve missed you.” 

“Should I?” She grinned. 

He shrugged. 

“You know, I missed them too, but…” She looked around. “So maybe I should stick around by now, so they don’t have to deal with the red M&M’s.” 

Tom nodded. 

“It’s weird, you know, I wanted to stay for other reasons,” she started. 

“Oh, really which ones?” 

She shrugged. “Tell me what you want to hear,” she whispered. 

Tom bit his lip. “I don’t even know what I want to hear.” 

“I found myself, Tom,” she admitted. “But I realized that whoever I am is because of you, you know? And maybe… Maybe I am slightly drunk alright? But you are really the reason that keeps me going, and I realized that you’re really that goodbye I will never be able to say because I… it’s true, I can’t live without you.” 

“Maybe it was stupid to be apart.” 

“Or maybe it wasn’t,” she shrugged. “I don’t know how you feel about it, but I’m certain, even if I… if I’m dirty now, all stained, even after everything, is it wrong that I still want to give everything away just to be close to you?” 

He didn’t say anything. “I almost called you a few times, too. I think I called you once, drunkenly.” 

“You did, it was at 4 am, and you left a voicemail, and I’ve gotta admit, I listened to it so many times I ended up memorizing it,” she confessed. “You know? It was… different for me, I didn’t miss you when I was drunk,” she said. Tom frowned. “I missed you in the morning, or when something good happened and I had to tell someone, and none of the people I could tell was you, and I missed your laugh too, I missed having someone annoying the hell out of me when I was working.” 

Tom smirked. 

“And I… also missed you at random times, and I may have or may have not asked Lizzie to steal a hoodie of yours, she didn’t do it, and I’m glad because that would’ve been very creepy,” she admitted, embarrassed. 

Tom laughed. “I almost bought your perfume.” 

She looked at the party. 

“We should dance,” she suggested. 

“Really y/n while we’re…” He chuckled, but she had already taken his hand and dragged him back inside to dance. He knew she loved dancing. So he pulled her closer, and their friends were in a bit state of shock for a bit, watching them have fun. 

But they were dancing, sillying around, and drinking. They played some games and had fun, forgetting their past conversations or their past situation. They were like strangers, flirting with each other, dancing with the other. 

She spoke with Harry and Sam, she was laughing with Tuwaine. But Tom wouldn’t leave her side. They took shots together, and drinks and beers. 

“Hey,” Lizzie had dragged y/n out from Tom’s grip as Harrison had pulled Tom with him. 

Y/n drunkenly chuckled. “Yep?” 

“How’s it going?” Lizzie asked, handing her friend a glass of water.

Y/N downed the drink and shrugged. “I wanna make out with him and hold his tush.” 

Lizzie widened her eyes and laughed. “Alright, you’re drunk drunk.”

Y/N grinned. “A wee bit, yeh.” 

Liz sighed. “Y/N, don’t do anything you’ll regret, and now drink more of this,” she filled up the glass with more water. 

Y/N downed it again. “Hmm.” 

Harrison couldn’t calm a giggling Tom. 

“Mate, are you okay?” 

“Nah,” Tom laughed. “But she’s ‘eeeere mate.” 

Haz rolled his eyes. “Did you talk?” 

“A lil’ yea,” but then he walked past Harrison and back to y/n. They were sobering up, as they were talking in the couch. Pure nonsense, really, but they couldn’t keep their hands or eyes off each other. 

This definitely wasn’t what they had expected, they probably thought their reencounter wouldn’t have been like this, y/n at least had thought it would be like on a rom-com or a romantic novel, where they would stare at each other and kiss and profess their love, instead they were drunk to their asses giggling to random nonsense.  

But they were catching up, in their own stupid way. And it felt like old times, two friends making each other laugh and telling stories. And they didn’t pay attention to anything else, it was like the spotlight was on them and only them. 

Her head landed on his shoulder eventually as Tom was showing pictures onset or as she showed him random pictures of her travels. 

And sooner or later, people were leaving. And Haz and Liz were probably too busy making out, or god knows where to notice y/n and Tom had walked out of the house to go for a walk. 

They were holding hands and ended up in the park near Tom’s house. They had sobered up, enough to be able to talk without dragging their tongue. 

The night was quiet, but it felt just like the party. Nothing surrounding them mattered, their eyes were glued to each other. And they felt like home. 

And both of them were dying for a kiss,but it wasn’t the time. Or maybe neither were brave enough.

Y/N was the one to break the silence. “I get it if you’re not ready yet,” she started and her voice was soft, Tom had to lean to listen to her. “I wouldn’t blame you, I hurt you and I know that it was too much and I know that even with everything, it’s delicate, I know that it would tear apart your reputation and I know that after all that I’ve done, I have no right in asking you anything but you don’t have to do anything.” 

“I’d risk it all for you, you know?” 

“But I don’t want you to,” she looked at him. “I like you, and I don’t know if it’s cool if I say it, you know? All night love I’ve tried to bring my lips to yours.” 

“And why not?” 

“I’m not afraid anymore, but I’ve stopped myself because I don’t know if we should.” 

“We should.” 

“I love you. But right now, I don’t know if I’m allowed to say it.” 

“You are,” Tom said, taking her by the hand. 

“But I do, I really do love you,” she admitted. “Maybe we were only a mistake, and maybe it was stupid, but I want to be the best mistake you ever had.” 

“You’re not a mistake,” Tom kissed her hand.

“And all this time, I’ve tried to come up with reasons as to why I shouldn’t love you, and many came but the sole reason that I want to love you won, and I just want to build a story, you know? Because you’ve already given me one, and I’ve learned so much, and now I can’t live without the little details you did. And these months apart only confirmed it, you’re the only one I want to be with.And you really don’t have to do anything, just let me love you, don’t push me away, I won’t run away this time, because really, that’s the only thing I desire, I want to love you, and I don’t want any more limits to pull us back.” 

Tom didn’t give her an answer, he just leaned over and closed the gap between them. Because at that moment, there were really no limits of desire. 

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