#how am i just now noticing i pasted it twice...and with several sentences missing??

[homemade-ghosts]

Did you get my ask few months ago? I was asking that I was surpised that when Ricky and Nini got back together, Nini never questioned about his friendship with Gina? We saw all of evidences of Nini being jealous of them hanging out and she was very much aware that there was obv something going on between them, especially at Thanksgiving party with whole "we thing" and she knew that there was more to it but when they got back together, she never questioned him about her? Never asked him about his feelings for Gina or what his friendship with her meant to him? After all she was his girlfriend, she would have more reasons to ask but that never happened. That's what surprised me. I wonder what you think of that?

I did! & I’m so sorry I never responded to it, I guess now is my chance lol — Here’s your original ask, for reference:

I was thinking back and it just hit me that s1 was when Ricky and Gina got closer and Nina witnessed that and was obviously jealous of them. She mentioned about them being "we" during Thanksgiving and saw them bonding and was really jealous of them and she wasn't an idiot to see that there was obviously something going on between Ricky and Gina. What bugged me the most about this is when Ricky and Nina got back together, why Nina didn't bring Gina up to him especially about his feelings for her? She knew they were pretty close but she never brought it up at all? In s2 when she was going to YAC and they were doing long distance, still she said nothing about them as she knew Ricky and Gina would be in same school. I am not saying that she would think Ricky would cheat which is not the case but to know that he would have someone to turn to and bond with, if that makes sense. She was jealous of them for whole season one for a good reason then when they got back together, it's almost like she forgot about his "friendship" with Gina or whatever. I find it very strange because she saw how happy Ricky was when Gina was around and his smile lights up the moment she was in the room and laughed with her and shared all of those cute moments with her. So why do you think that it wasn't brought up in their conversation about Gina? It's almost like she wasn't insecure and was confident in their relationship as if Gina meant nothing to him which wasn't even true at all. So odd.

Nini effectively forgetting that Ricky & Gina had any sort of relationship was something that was brought up as a definite inconsistency by a lot of people while s2 was airing. From my perspective, it wasn’t so much an indicator of Nini’s confidence in their relationship as it was something done purposefully by the writers to avoid giving the audience the impression that Gina was “coming in between” Ricky & Nini.

If Nini had referenced Gina & Ricky’s past (to Ricky or anyone else) while they were dating, viewers would’ve been much more likely to blame Gina, in some part, for their eventual breakup. It’s why they have Gina say, in one of her confessionals, that she would “never step on what [Ricky] has with Nini.” & it’s why, even though Rini’s relationship has been rocky & unhealthy from the very beginning, we don’t see things really start to spiral out of control (& head towards definitive “breakup” territory) until Ricky & Gina are no longer on speaking terms (post-ep 5). Tim & Co. wanted to make it very clear that Rini’s breakup had absolutely nothing to do with Gina (or anyone else) and absolutely everything to do with the fact that Ricky & Nini weren’t right for each other, that they hadn’t been for a long time and that holding on so tight to their past together was holding them both back from a better — happier — future. 

 They even made a point of having Gina help Ricky with his relationship at times. She’s the one who gives him the idea to sing his Valentine’s Day song for Nini over the phone after they hadn’t been able to catch each other in person all day. She’s the one who tells him not to send that very intense (to say the least) text about how Ricky wishes he was Nini’s dream — a text that would’ve made Nini very uncomfortable & pressured her into feeling like she had to come back to SLC (she, of course, wanted to come back home of her own accord, but Ricky didn’t know that at the time). & she’s the one who, rightfully, tries to remind him that he should talk to Nini about what she wants before he makes the decision to ask Miss Jenn, behind Nini’s back, about getting her a part in the show. Gina gave Ricky advice regarding Nini, despite how uncomfortable it made her, because all she ever wanted was to see him happy — even if it meant she wasn’t. & Ricky returned that favor in s3.

Unfortunately, despite the writers’ best efforts, some Rinis/PWs (one is synonymous with the other) still decided to completely misunderstand/twist the show’s narrative, just so they could place the blame on Gina, to avoid admitting that Ricky & Nini brought out the worst in each other. Just like how they repeatedly blamed Ricky for “trying to break up” PW — even though 1. The exact opposite was true: Ricky put more effort into keeping Gina & EJ together than EJ himself did during PW’s entire relationship — & 2. Gina gave a whole speech about why she & EJ don’t/won’t work, explicitly telling EJ it was not about Ricky.

[nev3rfound]

option two : b.b

after nightmares continue to haunt his nights, bucky knows there’s one person left who could potentially provide some form of comfort, but is she still willing to see him after all this time? (1.5k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

5k giveaway celebration 

warnings: angsty, sad bucky, minor spoilers for ep1 of tfatws  requested: nope, just something i’ve been thinking about since ep1 of tfatws

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

It felt real, as if he were back there holding the gun with no remorse.

Cold sweat covers Bucky’s body as he pants heavily, feeling the cool tags against his exposed chest rising and falling with his deep breaths that refuse to calm down.

He knew it wasn’t real, it was all in his head. But he knew it happened, even if it was many years ago, he still held the gun in his hand and pulled the trigger.

“It’s not real.” Bucky mutters to himself, glancing up to see the TV silently blaring a football game that he has no interest in, but it proves as a worthy distraction for the time being. “It’s not real.”

Remaining seated on the wooden floorboards with a blanket draped over his lap, Bucky glances over to his phone knowing there are two possible options ahead of him.

A sigh ghosts his lips as he stares at the contact list consisting of five names, only one having been used in the last week, well, month.

“James, you’ve got less than ten contacts in this phone and I’m the only person you’ve called all week.” Doctor Raynor sighs once more as she reaches for her notebook, not caring about the look of disdain crossing Bucky’s expression.

“It’s not like I’ve got anyone else to call.” Bucky shrugs it off, hearing her pen pause on the paper.

“Well, you’ve been avoiding messages from Sam for a start,”

“He doesn’t count.” Bucky remarks, hearing another quieter sigh leave her lips.

“Okay, then when was the last time you spoke to her, huh?” She counters, noticing his tense form relax at the mention of you. “Come on, James. If you want to help yourself, you have to keep in touch with those who still care about you.”

“I don’t even know if she does anymore, Doc.” Bucky admits, trying to hold back the sadness in his tone as Raynor closes her notebook.

“You have to try, James.” She reminds him. “Otherwise you’ll never know.”

Swallowing his pride, Bucky presses on the contact and listens as the number rings out. He’s counted the rings endlessly, knowing the hesitation there would be at the other end of the call.

“Hello?” He holds back the desperation clinging to his throat upon hearing someone answer, a loud yawn echoing through the line.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah,” Bucky lowers his head into his metal hand, even if it’s a different arm, it’s still part of the same tormented history. “I, could you come over?” A whisper leaves his lips as silence protrudes. “P,please?”

His ears perk up at the sound of sheets ruffling. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

Before Bucky can say his thanks, the line goes dead and the realisation sinks in; he’s going to see you again.

*

Bucky listens closely, hearing you outside of his apartment. He can hear you knock once softly, and a second time with more confidence.

He knows he should hold back a moment and pretend he hasn’t been hovering beside the front door since you hung up a mere twenty minutes ago, but he can’t help himself.

Unlocking the several locks covering the door, Bucky opens it a sliver, allowing you to slip in.

Keeping your head down, your focus remains on your feet as Bucky closes his front door before turning to you.

“I, I didn’t think you’d come.” Bucky admits quietly, afraid to hear what you have to say in response.

“Well,” You start, now lifting your head up to see him and your sentence falters in your mouth. You can’t deny that he looks worse than you envisioned, even during those late nights and early mornings when he woke up screaming in your arms, he’d never looked so grief-stricken like this.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes out, following your gaze to his tired eyes, scratches covering his arm from attempting to claw it off in his sleep as sweat still clings to his chest. “it’s not great.”

You scoff under your breath as you follow Bucky through to his small kitchen where he pours you both glasses of water. “That is clearly an understatement.” Accepting the glass, you take the moment to reflect whilst he’s occupied. “How long has this been happening?”

Pausing at the sink, Bucky stares down into his glass of water, remembering the countless nights they attempted to drown him or try shock therapy. And how every time it didn’t work, he remembered it all.

“A while.” He mutters, his grip tightening on the kitchen ledge as his metal hand clenches around the glass, shattering it into the sink.

“James,” You call out, slowly rising from your seat and moving toward him. “I’m right here, you’re here too, alright?”

Standing beside him, you reach out for his hand, easing his grip on the counter until he lets go.

“You’re right here.” You repeat to him as his eyes remain tightly closed, his jaw locked and left hand still clenching the broken glass. “You can let go, Bucky.” The words leave your lips in a whisper as the remainder of the glass drops into the sink, and Bucky turns his body to face yours.

“It wasn’t real,” Bucky tells you weakly. “please tell me it wasn’t real.”

Without thinking twice, you lift your hand to rest it against his cheek and Bucky instantly cradles it with his flesh hand, keeping it in place.

“It wasn’t real, James.” You confidently state as he moves your hand and presses a gentle kiss against it. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” You sigh as you both remain in the dimly lit kitchen, the only movement from Bucky as he turns the tap off.

“Nothings been the same since Steve,” He can’t help but trail off, knowing he doesn’t have to explain himself around you. “and I just couldn’t face it, not with all that history.”

Stepping backwards, you let your hand slip from his as you lean against the counter, crossing your arms. “But what about the rest of us, Bucky? You just stopped answering, after everything we’ve been through.” You try to keep your voice low, remain calm, but after all this time, it’s difficult to not let your feelings get in the way. “I’ve lost all of you. Sam, Wanda, Peter, Clint, Bruce, Thor and now you too.”

“I’m sorry, doll,” Bucky breathes out. “I never meant to hurt you, I, I’ve been making amends.”

Walking past you, Bucky rummages through his bedside table, revealing the well-worn notebook.

“Was that?” You don’t have to finish your question before Bucky nods, flipping through the pages to a series of names scribbled down.

“These are all the people I wronged or hurt or who were affected by the Winter Soldier.” Bucky explains, holding the book out to you.

He watches closely as your eyes scan over the names, flipping through the pages seeing those crossed out or circled or left untouched. Until you see the last name on the list, yours.

“Y/n, I’m truly sorry for leaving you, for causing you any pain.” Bucky begins to explain as you close the notebook, placing it back on the counter out of sight. “I know I can’t take back what I’ve done, for disappearing for months without warning, but I,” Unable to fight his emotions, Bucky cracks.

You reach out as he curls up to the ground, quiet sobs wracking through his body as you hold him close.

“It’s okay,” You shush him as you fall to a sitting position, Bucky curling his head into your lap once more. “we can talk about this in the morning, okay?”

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Bucky tenses beneath you before sparing you a glance, allowing you to see those blue eyes, the ones you’ve missed falling asleep beside and waking up to, those same blue eyes that hold so much pain you can’t comprehend.

“No,” You whisper, running your fingers through his short hair, missing how the long ends used to feel against your face in the mornings. “I promise, I won’t go.” You lean back against the cabinets as Bucky begins to relax beneath you, his metal arm outstretched whilst his flesh arm remains around your waist, hugging you close.

“This is real, isn’t it?” Bucky sadly asks, looking out toward the dark hallway of his apartment, seeing nothing besides the faint glare of the tv. “I, I’m not dreaming this again am I?”

The thought breaks your heart as you rest your hand on his shoulder, running your fingers along the faint scar that remains etched into his skin.

“It’s real, Bucky.” You tell him, trying to disguise the cry that is lodged in your throat. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Despite your words of comfort, Bucky closes his eyes uneasily, wondering when he’ll wake up from this dream to the painful reality he truly lives in.

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[nancywheelxr]

Word of Honor prompt suggestion: WKX and YBY play the drunken ancient Chinese equivalent of Truth or Dare. The situation rapidly escalates from throwing Wolong Nuts to property damage, while a horrified ZZS attempts to restore order. In the end, Gu Xiang smacks both of them down.

anon, i am delighted by this prompt, thank you so much

*

Zhou Zishu loves having an extended family.

It’s great, so great. Amazing. Really, just lovely. A blessing.

“Who are you calling blind? Twice that distance, it would still land true!”

A blessing. Especially when they all decide to visit at the same time. Lovely surprise, truly. So great. Zhou Zishu is just so happy. Estactic even. Look at him, he’s a shining beacon of happiness.

“Shifu,” Chengling says, frowning up at him from the where he’s supposed to be meditating, “are you alright? You look stressed.”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?” Zhou Zishu snaps, “who’s stressed? If anything, it’s your laziness that’s stressing me!”

Chengling doesn’t look too convinced because, unfortunately, somewhere down the line, the kid seems to have lost all common sense. Personally, Zhou Zishu blames Wen Kexing. “Sorry, sorry, I promise I’m not being lazy,” he grins, eyes going wide and pleading-- another thing, that, personally, Zhou Zishu blames Wen Kexing for. “As soon as we stop hiding, I’ll go back to training!”

“Who’s hiding!” Zhou Zishu takes a deep breath. He’s been told to manage his stress levels. Besides, he’s not stressed. Beacon of happiness. Shining, that’s what he is. This is all fine. “We’re not hiding. We’re meditating away from the mess your Shishu is making with Ye-qianbei.”

Chengling nods once, serious. “A warrior knows when to retreat.”

“That’s not--” He stops himself. Somewhere, probably in the courtyard, there’s a crash loud enough to echo in the room they’re using. This is fine. 

“Where would that count? I dared you to strike down that tree, not take a statue’s head!”

“What’s wood compared to stone?! Have you gone senile? Your dare was too stupid to consider, I made it better!”

Wen Kexing is slurring his words already, Zhou Zishu can tell, and it’s with a startling clarity that he can see it in his mind: Wen Kexing, drunk, throwing his fan around the courtyard on a dare, and Ye Baiyi, not drunk, unbothered by the very real risk of someone losing a limb if he deemed it entertaining enough. 

They had been throwing those blasted nuts around, the last time Zhou Zishu checked on them. Shooting them around like arrows and leaving dents all over his walls. Then, he had been merely grateful for their unspoken agreement of not ever choosing truth, just in case someone stepped in one of the several emotion landmines scattered in their past-- if anyone starts crying, Zhou Zishu is walking out, he’s decided this very early on.

Well, he supposes, if it’s Wen Kexing, he would probably stick around to sober him up, tears and all, but he’d really rather not. 

It was a mistake though, it seems, to leave them unattended for too long. Now the dares have escalated and one of the statues is allegedly missing a head.

So great.

“Stay here,” he tells Chengling, just in case the kid’s luck strikes again, and goes investigate the noises. Following the chaos is always sure to lead him back to Wen Kexing. 

The several disciples scurrying away from the courtyard is also a good indicator he’s on the right path.

“Old Monster,” Wen Kexing is saying, and in his arms there’s a large stone that might at some point have been a statue’s head but has been hacked at too much to retain any semblance of its former image. Hacked at too heavily to have been done by a fan, lined with steel or not. Which means-- “I dare you to-- I dare you to cut this in half now!”

“Ha!” Ye Baiyi snorts, sword already unsheated, and there’s a faint flush to his face which is all sorts of terrible because if even Ye Baiyi is a little drunk, then how much have they drunk? And could people, please, stop waving around sharp weapons while inebriated? “You call that a challenge? Brat, I could be in my death bed and that would still be too easy. Don’t waste my time, come up with something better.”

Yeah, no, it’s definitely time for an intervention. “Alright, alright,” he calls, stepping out into the courtyard and promptly tripping over an entire watermelon. What the fuck. “What the fuck?”

“A-Xu!” Wen Kexing grins, waving at him while hugging the head to his chest, and it’s horribly endearing, yes, but also, terrible because Zhou Zishu is trying to hold on to his annoyance. “A-Xu, be careful! I won that fair and square, it’s my prize! Isn’t it good? We can have it after dinner but not the Old Monster, he can’t have it, A-Xu!”

“As if I wanted! It’s probably rotten--”

“Oh, it’s good that you’re here, A-Xu, I’ve missed you, and now you can stand guard on our watermelon!”

Deep breaths. “Where did you get the watermelon?”

“I won it.”

Ye Baiyi scoffs. “You cheated.”

“You won it. From where?”

“No, he cheated,” Ye Baiyi repeats as if speaking to a particularly slow child, “I’ve already told you that, stop making me repeat myself.”

“Don’t listen to him, A-Xu,” Wen Kexing walks over with his stone head, swaying as he goes, “no cheating was involved. Look, isn’t it a good watermelon?”

The question is accompanied with a genuinely distressed look, as if it was of paramount importance that Zhou Zishu agree with him on this, as if the whole world is hanging on this thread, so Zhou Zishu finds himself picking up the damn thing and awkwardly inspecting it around. “Yes, it’s very good.”

Immediately, Wen Kexing spins around, using the statue head to point at Ye Baiyi vindictively, “see? Take that, Old Man! How about it? A-Xu says it’s good, so it’s good, it’s not rotten!”

Well, in truth, it might be a little past its prime, but Zhou Zishu decides to keep that to himself and not think about where it came from anymore. This, he figures, is going to be a problem for Sober Wen Kexing when he wakes up tomorrow. So he places the watermelon back down and steels himself for the task of prying the head from Wen Kexing. “Yes, yes, I’m always right, and now A-Xu is saying it’s time to go to sleep.”

For his troubles, he receives a most betrayed look, “A-Xu, it’s still so early, A-Xiang isn’t even back yet,” something seems to click on his head, “and the Old Monster hasn’t completed the dare!”

Zhou Zishu curses silently. Having deemed Wen Kexing’s ramblings boring, Ye Baiyi had retreated back to the his seat at the table and been about to pour himself some water, but now he perks up again, throwing one of their precious nuts at them. “Come up with a worthy dare, then! Qin Huaizhang’s disciple, bring more wine.”

Hearing this, Wen Kexing rushes forward, waving the statue head. “Don’t change the subject! If you think it’s too easy, how about I throw it in the air first, huh? I dare you, cut it in half before it touches the ground!”

I’m going to have to rebuild this place again, Zhou Zishu realizes with a morose sort of resignation. The manor might have survived the Window of Heavens, but he’s not so sure it’ll survive these two drunk idiots. 

This epiphany takes some time to be processed, so Zhou Zishu doesn’t feel too guilty for not noticing Gu Xiang arriving with Cao Weining until they’re at his side, gaping like little dumb fishes at the scene. “Ah, Zishu-ge! Why did you let them get like this!”

“A-Xiang, A-Xiang,” her husband says helplessly, and Zhou Zishu snorts, magnanimously forgiving her slap at his shoulder, “don’t be so harsh, it’s not so bad! Wen-gongzi is...” without anything other than drunk out of his mind to finish his sentence with, Cao Weining trails off.

“What a mess,” she grumbles, “what a mess. You were supposed to keep an eye on them!”

“Me? How am I to do that? Do you think I can grant miracles?”

She hits his shoulder again. “Zishu-ge! You just had to keep an eye on him! That’s the one thing you like doing!”

“A-Xiang!” Cao Weining gasps, grasping at her sleeves to keep her from going for another slap, “Zhou-xiong, we’ll help clean it up, it’s the wine we brought anyway.”

“Pah,” she scoffs, shaking Cao Weining off and marching towards the two still squabbling about how best to throw the statue head, “who’s we? Honestly!”

From their spot by the door, Zhou Zishu watches as Wen Kexing beams at her, saying something too garbled for him to make out, while Ye Baiyi just squints like he’s seeing a new weird-looking bug.

A-Xiang’s screeches are very clearly heard, though. In a minute, she’s prodded and bullied Wen Kexing into giving up the head and poured them both healthy servings of tea, taking advantage of Ye Baiyi’s seemingly internal debate over insulting a little girl to shove the glass at him.

“Huh,” Zhou Zishu says, admittedly impressed. She really is efficient when she wants to be.

“Ah, A-Xiang really is amazing,” Cao Weining sighs in a horrible smitten way, so Zhou Zishu has to fetch and toss the nearest broom at him, on principle. “Ah?”

“It’s very good that Cao-gongzi offered to help,” he smiles, knowing Wen Kexing will laugh about this come morning, “now if you excuse me, this one has a very drunk husband to rescue.”

Feeling very satisfied with himself, he labels the mess a problem for Cao Weining now. 

Zhou Zishu loves having an extended family. A blessing, truly.

[spookyboywhump]

Thank you @whumpfigure for sending in this ask I haven’t written in days and it struck the inspiration cord

CW: Pet whump, dehumanization, punishment, caning, referenced past abuse, Cain compares Nicholas to his father, that stuff yeah

***

This punishment was… new, to say the least. New from Nicholas, but not entirely terrible, he had an idea of what to expect. He’d been made to kneel at the coffee table in front of the couch, a leash clipped to his collar and tied around one of the table legs. It was just barely long enough for him to sit up straight, he wanted to loosen it but he didn’t dare touch it. Nicholas had given him paper and a pen, and a simple set of instructions.

He was to write the sentence as many times as it took until Nicholas told him to stop. He was to do so silently, to think about the offense he was being punished for. And if he made a mistake, well, ink wasn’t erasable, he’d simply have to start over on a whole new page. Nicholas had been kind, he’d taken the first paper and written down the sentence for him, the five words he’d be forced to repeat.

I am not a person.

He scowled at the sentence but reluctantly picked up the pen in his left hand, slowly beginning to write, only to suddenly be hit with a sharp pain against his back, the crack of a thin cane against his spine. He jumped, quickly turning to face Nicholas as much as he could. The man was relaxed on the couch behind him, smiling at him cruelly as one hand rested on the cane.

“You smudged the ink there darling, you know I should make you start over, right?” He said smugly. Cain opened his mouth to protest, but Nicholas continued with, “I suppose I can give you a pass on that, but you better be careful not to mess up or that’ll be another strike.” He warned.

“Yes sir…” Cain murmured, turning around to get back to work.

The monotonous task was nearly mind numbing, but it gave him more than enough time to think, tuning out the sounds of the tv show Nicholas was watching. He hadn’t even realized he was being bad at first, it was just a stupid tangent about food, about how much he missed his favorite comfort food, how he had a habit of eating too much whenever he was sad and left alone for too long. Nicholas hadn’t liked that, he’d let him finish rambling and then he had slapped him across the face, reminding him that thoughts of before were bad thoughts. He had expected a worse punishment than this, though he wasn’t about to say he appreciated this one.

It reminded him of his father, he realized as he got started on the second page. When he was a child, before his mother had left, when he misbehaved or made a mistake, his father would make him write at least a page, maybe more, apologizing for whatever offense he committed. Looking back on it, he hated it then, but it was just a minor irritation compared to punishments he’d later suffer through. Even now it was just an irritation, an inconvenience, a bad memory-

“Shit.” He murmured the word without thinking, distracted by his own thoughts he’d skipped over a whole word in the sentence. Before he could brace himself, the cane came down hard on his back, causing the man to hiss in pain, curled in on himself, only to be hit again.

“Sit up straight.” Nicholas ordered him, and he had no choice but to force himself to obey. “Sit up straight and start the page over.” He said, and with shaking hands Cain crumpled up that paper and started on a new one, his hand gripping the pen tightly, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

He had noticed that Nicholas reminded him of his father often, and that wasn’t a comparison he was particularly comfortable making. He was cold though, controlling and so quick to lash out, so easy to displease. Sometimes Cain thought he wanted him to slip up, only to have an excuse to punish him, and while he could say a lot of horrible things about his father, he at least knew he’d never intentionally set him up for failure and punishment. At least, he never thought he did anyway. He assumed it was just a coincidence that they both had the same cruel traits, or maybe even intentional, Nicholas playing on the things he knew Cain had hated and feared so much. At the same time, it really wouldn’t have surprised him if they were both just simply bad, even though he hadn’t really known him personally at that point, he had known that his father liked Nicholas on some level, the way a boss likes a model employee, and anybody his father approved of was rarely a safe person. Thinking back on that, he felt stupid for ever trusting Nicholas.

He made it through the second and third pages without incident, writing over and over I am not a person. I am not a person. The fourth page- god, he didn’t know when it would end- had started out okay, but he gripped the pen too tightly, pressed on the paper too hard and torn it half way through. That is when the tears sprung to his eyes. The cane cracked against his spine and he cried out in pain, whimpering when Nicholas suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head back, teary blue eyes meeting his cold grey ones.

���All you have to do is write one simple sentence and you can’t even do that? I know you’re a brainless little bitch but it can’t be that hard now can it? Start over.” He ordered, giving him a harsh shove forward when he let go of his hair. Taking slow, shuddering breaths, he sat up straight again, and he started on a new page.

Four pages turned into six, into eight, and finally, he was on the tenth page, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to write perfectly. He’d had to restart the six and seventh pages too, this was getting harder and harder. He let out an involuntary whine, and Nicholas sighed behind him.

“Is something wrong, darling?” He asked, sounding almost exasperated, but as it was permission to speak Cain stupidly opened his mouth.

“I-I can’t…” He whimpered. “I can’t, I can’t, my hand hurts s-so much!” He cried. His left hand was cramping, his wrist ached, his only breaks were the brief moments in between pages and it simply wasn’t enough, not to mention the ache in his back from holding this posture, along with the several strikes he’d suffered. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry I th-thought like- like a person, I’m sorry f-for being so stupid, I know, I know, I’m not a person, I’m not a person, I know I’m not a person!” He sobbed.

“Oh, my love…” Nicholas leaned forward, carding a hand through his hair. “I knew you’d understand eventually. How about you finish this page perfectly, and then I’ll let you stop, hm?” He said, and Cain quickly nodded.

“Y-Yes sir, yes sir, I-I can do that…” He said through his tears. He felt like he couldn’t do it, he was in so much pain and his normally small and neat writing was getting sloppier as he just wanted this to be over. He spelled the words correctly though, he didn’t skip any words and he didn’t tear the paper. He still smudged some of the ink, and when he accidentally leaned forward a few tears had dropped onto the paper, blurring the dark ink, and he’d fear Nicholas would make him start over but he only caned him twice for it, and told him to keep going. It almost felt merciful in these circumstances.

Finally, ten pages complete and several discarded, he’d written the last word, dropping the pen and holding his aching hand to his chest. He was sobbing, he couldn’t help it, he was in so much pain, his hand, his back, even his legs had gone numb from how long he’d been kneeling. He never thought it would end but he’d somehow finished it, and Nicholas unclipped the chain from his collar and pulled him up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him.

“There you go darling, there’s my good boy.” He said gently. “You just needed to be taught this lesson, that’s all. I’m sure you won’t forget now.” He said, and Cain was almost sure he was right, after writing it so many times over and over again.

I am not a person.

I am not a person.

I am not a person.

I am not a person.

I am not a person.

I am not a person.

I am not a person.

I am not a person.

[sellina-skyfall]

Dream SMP - We don´t talk about it

Summary: It’s no secret that Tommy believes he’s the greatess person to exist, the ego on that child is bigger then everyone elses in the Dream smp combined. Even thou he can handle his own pretty well in battle, maybe he should think twice before picking fights with gods.

In other words, problem child tries to fight the literal goddess of chaos to try and prove to everyone else that he is strong.

Warning: This work is a work of fiction and in no way should be taken as gospel.This was done with entertainment proposes, and involves the Dream smp characters, and the characters only. It is not my intention to make anyone uncomfortable, or cross any bonderies.

This work contains, a fighting scene, mentions of child abandonment, bad parenting and some violence.

I apologize if there are any mistakes, or if there are some sentences that don’t make much sense. English is not my first language.

This can be read as an Xreader, or as an Xcharacter!

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

-I am not a kid!-

-Yes you are Tommy, I'm not teaching you how to murder someone just because you think you're a grown up-

-You're just afraid I'll beat you in a battle!-

I couldn't lie, it was hard not to listen to Techno's and Tommy's querrels. As loud and as annoying as they could get, the two always managed to light up everyones mood. Accuratly, this didn't always work, but for the most part, their little arguments were light hearted and fun. A change of scenery for the usually calm and honestly, quite boring winter empire.

-Ten minutes max until they are at eachothers throats-

The hushed comment made me snicker slightly, a small smile breaking out as I carefully adjusted the tea cup on my hands, making sure to not spill it over the beautifully decored table me and Philza were sitting by. The winged man gave me a knowing look, smile crooking slightly as he gestured back to the fighting pair with a simple nod of his head. My eyes immediatly snapped over, teeth suddently digging into my lips as I held back a laugh. Philza was more then right, those two would be at eachother sooner rather then later. Not that we were too worried, if anything escaled we would simply step in.

Like we always did.

The bird-hybrid more then me, I simply did not have the mental strenght to argue with both Tommy and Techno, they were already hot-headed when alone.

Oh but when they were toguether?

A living time-bomb that could go off over the smallest and dumbest things.

-It really does run in the family, uh Phil?-

It wasn't really a question, if anything, it was more of a little jab to the mans raising methodes. Not that I could really talk, it had been centurys since I had last held a baby, even longer since I had to take care of one. If I had been in Philzas place I would probably have been a worst parent then he ever was.

In response to my teasing, the bird-hybrid simply rolled his eyes, smile softening as he leaned somewhat closer to me. Immediatly catching onto his antics, I decided to play along, quietly suffling forward in my chair before bringging up the cup of tea up to my lips, the smile I had only widening as the childish behavior.

-Mighty words coming from someone who abandoned their child-

-I did no such thing, do you really believe I would be able to abandone a baby? Scar was a follower of mine-

-A very dedicate one if I might add-

Phil's sentence was abruptly interruted by Tommy's voice, the teenager had somehow approached us without any of us noticing. His hands slamed down onto the table, the impact making the glasses and plates shake slightly. It didn't take five seconds before the hybrid was scolding his youngest soon, eyes Sharp as he told Tommy to apolegize.

The teen, however had other plans. His Bright blue eyes were focused on me as his smile praticly occupied half of his face. His next words had be chocking on the tea I had been drinking.

-Well! If Techno won't teach me how to fight then Sellina will! Right!?-

I looked over to Philza in disbelief, eyes widened at the bluntness his child possessed. Tommy really had no manners in conversation, especially when it came to woman. The blond man simply stared back at me, his expression mirrowing mine as his mouth opened and closed several times. We were both at a lost for words. The silence that took over was quite unconfortable, and the intense stare Tommy kept giving me did nothing to make me feel better about the hole situation.

After breathing in slowly I found myself forcing a smile at the teen, hands coming down to rest the partly now spilled tea on the table.

-I don't think that's a good idea Tommy-

-What, you think I can't handle my own?! I'll have you known I'm the strongest in this house hole!-

Techno's snicker was loud enough to catch our attention, so much so that Tommy turned over in his direction to curse him out. Talk about na big ego.

Really, where were this childs manners...

-C'mon Sellina! I'm sure I can beat you in a fight!-

-I don't think so T, but the intention is what counts..-

-Well! If you are so sure of yourself why won't you fight me? At least teach me some cool moves so I can use them agaisnt Techno!-

-You'd have to have blue blood for that buddy. Maybe when you're older Tommy-

The frustation was evidente in Tommys face, his cheeks had redden up and his mouth had dropped into a frown. Without another word the teenager simply stormed off, bangging the door loudly behind him.

I couldn't help but feel slightly bad, a tired sigh escaping me as my shoulders dropped slightly at the teens mood swing.

Humans were way too emotional.

But in the end, there was nothing I could really do, teaching Tommy how to fight was out of the question, and fighting him was na even worst idea. I was not about to train a sixteen year old kid to be a soldier.

My train of thoughts was broken by Philza, who at this point had gotten up and was grabbing the dishes up from the table to put them in the kitchen's sink. Before he did so thou, he gave my shoulder a tight squeeze, eyes soft and understanding. The smile on lips lips was small, but welcoming all the same.

I found myself smilling back with ease.

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

-Are you sure you don't need me to accompain you home Sellina?-

-With all the due respect dadza, I can take care of myself. You should be more worried for Techno, he seems...-

-I know. The fight with tommy lefy him in a sower mood. He'll be back to normal before you know it-

-If you say so... Alright, take care then. Give the boys kisses for me!-

Quietness.

That's the only real way I could describe the winter florest, apart from breathtaking and beautifull view. Honestly, the scenery looked like it had been straight out ripped from an old fairytail book, the kind of book kids swore held magic.

And maybe, they did.

The snowed covered trees almost touched eachother a the top, the casted shadows creating this welcoming sense of protection. Their frozen leafs shook slightly in the welcoming breeze of the night, even the animals seemed to have gone silent. I found myself slowly coming to a stop in the middle of it all, eyes locked onto the brightly illuminated moon. It had been hard to spot her, after all the threes were rather large, but the sight that welcomed me had made it all worth it.

Nights like this were what made me remember why I was so found of earth. So found of these people that slowly destryed everything they touched. So found of their interactions and relations.

It was never this peacefull and serene out there.

My shoulders relaxed quite quickly, and before I knew it I was calmly enjoying the presence of the cold winter spirt. The wind had started to pick up, but it didn't bother me in the slightless, in reality it made me smile harder.

The small moment of bliss was cut short by the sounds of foot steps fastly approching. For a moment I thought it might have been Techno or maybe even Philza but none of them had any reason to follow me into the florest. I forced myself to stay quiet, holding my breath in as a way to hear the steps better.

They had broken out onto a full blown sprint.

My reaction was pretty much immediate, right hand coming down fast to to summoning my battle axe. I turned on my feet as fast as I could, cape flowing behind me as my eyes fell on the tip of the sword that had barelly missed my face. Instinctively my arm came up, axe in hand as I swung it down with so much force that it sliced right through the dimond sword that once had been held up to me. A squeek left my attackers mouth, but before he could do anything I brought my left leg up, swiftly quicking his leg before swingging once again. The blade barelly missed his face as he fell to the ground with a muffled "thud", the snow aiding in his fall. His breathing was much faster then it should have been, teary blue eyes widened in shock and in terror as he stared up at me like I was some kind of monster. The gripo n my axe flaterred as soon as I recognized who was on the other side of my blade.

-Tommy?-

His name came out in a whisper, arms shaking as I realized how close I had just been to hurting the small teenager. The axe slipped past my fingers and onto the snow as I stared down at Tommy, the frightened look he had inprinting itself into my memory.

Calls of both our names echoed through out the florest, not that I could hear them clearly, everything had started to turn into white noise. That is until Techno stepped into view, rough hands carefully grasping at my face as he tried to gain my attention back. Still, my eyes stayed focussed on Tommy, even when Philza started scolding himw hile checking over for injuries.

-I could have killed him-

-Hey. Hey, c'mon it's it's not your fault. Tommy shouldn't have sneaked up on you-

-Oh my god I could have killed him. Techno I could have killed him-

-It's fine. It's going to be fine-

I don't remember exacly how that night ended, nor' how the next day started.

One thing had been certain thou, Tommy made sure to never ask me to fight him again.

[official-weasley]

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 8, Ch. 12

PART 8: WHERE IT ALL ENDS Chapter 12 - Now, Then and Forever

Charlie

“And then I looked him in the eyes and he just backed down.” Dominik slammed his beer bottle at the table, laughing so hard, finishing his story. Andrei almost fell from his seat and I brushed a tear away, laughing so much.

“Dom, there is no way the Ukranian Ironbelly just gave up when you didn't give him food.” I said, still laughing. His story was ridiculous and unbelievable but the way he was telling it was too funny not to listen.

“If that was true mate, you wouldn't be sitting here in front of us.” Andrei followed.

“You bastards, never believing me.” Dom rolled his eyes, knowing full well he was full of it. “You'll see when...”

But he didn't finish the sentence. His eyes widened as he looked at something behind Andrei and me. We both turned around and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Bill's Patronus, moving towards us.

“Charlie. Gather everyone you can. There is a battle at Hogwarts.” Bill's voice said and we all stood up at once.

“Alright!” I clapped my hands together. “For all we know they can be fighting for hours already. Get everyone and send out as many messages as you can, we need to go now!”

“There won't be time to set a Portkey, Charlie.” Andrei said.

“We'll apparate and hope for the best. We can't lose any time.” He nodded and we started gathering people around.

All across the village people started apparating, nodding at me or looking taken aback by the sudden change of atmosphere. I was just hoping we weren't too late and the people we have been getting to join us in all these years will be of help during the battle, no matter how many we will be able to inform on such short notice.

“Good luck, mate.” Andrei pulled me into a hug before apparating. We agreed that we should all apparate into Hogsmeade and go to the school from there since we didn't know what was happening and where the reinforcements will be needed most.

When I got there, everything was quiet. It looked like it was half abandoned. As more people appeared, the windows and doors of Hogsmeade houses started to open.

“C'mon! There's a fight going on at Hogwarts. Grab your wands and let's go!” I started running from door to door, shouting at the confused villagers.

“Who are you?” I turned around to see a rather large man standing there.

“Charlie Weasley. We brought more people. We heard there's a battle. Who are you?” The man looked astonished and frightened at the same time.

“Horace Slughorn.” He introduced himself. “I came here to get more people.”

“Good.” I nodded. “Then you can start pointing them to the direction where they should enter the School Grounds.” He didn't say anything, just nodded and hurried past me.

I waited a bit longer, for more people to appear but when I saw that several older villagers, unfit to fight, were shouting from their windows where they should go, I joined the group, marching towards the school.

Once we reached the barrier, we stopped. There were so many of us that I was certain we were going to win this without even knowing what was going on. We listened for a bit but couldn't hear anything. Then a few rows in the front started shouting literal battle screams. The rest of us joined as we wanted to let the fighters inside know that we are coming to help.

Once we got to the Courtyard, I didn't have time to look for any familiar faces or my family. Everything was in pure chaos. I needed a moment to focus and distinguish between our fighters and the enemy.

Before I knew it, I was throwing spells and jinxes in every direction. It was much worse and much more intense than the battle in the Sanctuary but I didn't lose focus. This was my moment to get revenge. To make as many of them fly in the air, losing their breath and getting hurt as I could.

It felt good to fight again and the pure adrenaline in my veins didn't allow me to get tired even though I felt as if I was fighting for hours. I saw Bill fight for a split second with the corner of my eye. And mum and dad as I turned around. There was a moment when I thought I saw Ginny but mum wouldn't allow her to fight, would she?

Before I could think twice about it, I already had two new Death Eaters standing before me, missing one's green light coming from his wand by millimeters. I was able to stun one and disarm the other and there was a new one making his way to me.

Before he could raise his wand at me, someone that I didn't know, hit him with a jinx from behind, and as his eyes widened, he hit the ground. I nodded to the person who saved me from the enemy and looked around to see where I should go next and who should I help to fight.

I felt something sharp hitting my back and my vision darkened. When I opened my eyes, I was still at Hogwarts but everything around me was white and blurry. I saw a tree in the distance and something shimmering and I knew I was by the Lake where I proposed to Nova. I carefully stepped forward, not knowing what is going on or why am I seeing this. I didn't feel any pain from the blast. My heart started racing and I felt like I always did when I held Nova in my arms. Warm, calm and loved.

“Hi, Charlie.” Tears blurred my eyes and I felt my whole body get numb. I turned around.

“Nova?” She was standing in front of me as real and as healthy as I had her in my memory. She was wearing a long white dress and the Dragon necklace I gave her for her 12th birthday.

“Am I dead?” I was lost for words. There hasn't been a day in 3 years that I didn't wish to see her face again.

“No. You're going back.” She smiled gently as she stepped closer.

“What is this, why can I see you?” My voice was shaking. I didn't believe I would ever see her again and here she was.

“I brought you here.” She was still smiling. “You are hurt, but you will be fine. I just took this opportunity to talk to you.” She explained.

“Is this real?” I took a step toward her, not really knowing what would happen if our bodies met. “Will I remember this when I wake up?”

“It's real and only if you want to.” She nodded.

“Can I touch you?” I asked desperately. I knew I was hurt, probably laying on the floor while different colors of spells, jinxes, and curses flew around me but I couldn't help to think that this was the best thing that happened to me since she died.

She took a step closer and grabbed my hand. My whole body started shaking when I felt her touch. I pulled her in a hug and buried my fingers in her hair.

“I missed you so much!” Tears started pouring down my face. Embracing her felt so real as if she never left.

“I know. I miss you too, Charlie.” I felt her chest shaking and I knew she was holding in the tears.

“Char.” How I longed to hear her say my name like that just one more time. “I brought you here for a reason.” She gently pulled away from me but I kept my arms around her waist.

“You broke your promise to me.” She sighed.

“What?” I didn't. I promised her I will be what I always wanted to be before I gave her my heart.

“You promised me you'll be happy.” She couldn't hold back the tears anymore. “This,” she placed her hand on my chest, “is not being happy.” It felt as if she was touching my soul. A certain heat radiated from her, keeping me calm and I felt content after a long time.

“I can't, Nova. I can't get over you. You are the love of my life and...” My voice broke completely and I felt as if I couldn't breathe, my throat tight. “...I know it's been almost three years but there isn't a day that I...”

“I know.” She stopped me as she cupped my face.

“Can you go to our...” She stopped me, putting her hand over my mouth, shaking her head. I was curious what this place was. Was it connected to the real world? Could she still be there?

“No, but I can feel you all the time.” Another tear marked her face. “Charlie, I didn't die so you could be unhappy. I want you to live your life not do your job and beat yourself with guilt over me.”

“Nova...” I tried steadying my voice. “You know me. You know I can't.” I pulled her into a tight embrace again. I didn't know how long this was going to last and I wanted to savor every second of it.

“Charlie...” She pulled away and lifted my chin. “You have to forgive yourself. What I did was my decision and I don't regret it. If I would have a chance to do it all over again, I would save you every time and there was nothing you could do to stop me.” She pressed her forehead to mine.

“I wanted to do it and you beating yourself over it is not worth it.” I opened my mouth but she stopped me.

“It pains me every day when I feel how you torture yourself. You can't live like this, Char.” She whispered.

“Then let me stay here with you.” I blurted out. “I don't want to live without you, Nova.” We were both crying but I felt so calm. I knew if I was back in my world, I would feel my chest ripping but I think her presence was keeping me calm. She was keeping me from falling apart.

“I can't let you do that.” She lowered her head, shaking it. “You have to live your life. Move on. Find a girl.” I winced at her last words. I could never do that. “Settle down. Have a family like you told me you wanted.” She looked me in the eyes but I looked away, it was too painful to think about things like that without her in the picture. “Remember, 2 girls and a boy?” She let out a small chuckle.

“But I wanted that with you. You don't understand...” I completely shut down. I couldn't believe I was talking to her again knowing I will soon open my eyes and never see her again. “I never wanted anything other than work with Dragons and then I met you and I fell in love and I had something I never even thought imaginable and I saw a different future for myself. Everything that I told you that day was created in my head because of you.” I couldn't stop crying and I didn't know if this was a blessing or a curse. I never wanted to let go of her.

“You know...” She started after a long silence. “There was a moment when I was considering coming back as a ghost.” I pulled away and looked at her. “But I knew it wouldn't be fair to you. I was hoping you would move on. It pained me knowing you would be with someone else but it would be better than this...” She pressed both her hands against my chest. “Charlie, I don't want you to be so sorrowful.” She started crying again.

“And what would you do if the situation was reversed?” I asked with a shaky voice. If she was going to tell me she would've moved on, I would promise her to try and do the same.

“That's not important.” She shook her head, I could barely hear her. “It is to me.” I cupped her face and kissed her. Her lips were as soft as I remember. I pressed her tighter onto my body. It was just as I recalled; tender but with so much hidden passion. I tried to memorize the feeling of her touch because I never wanted to forget it.

“I wouldn't.” She said very quietly almost as she was ashamed of her answer. “I could never...” She stopped talking when her voice broke. I knew she would feel the same as me if the situation was reversed and I knew she tried her hardest to lie to me just to convince me to move on but I couldn't blame her for failing. I wouldn't believe her anyway.

“Then how do you expect me to do so?” I kissed her again, feeling like I will never be so lucky again, to hold her in my arms. “It comforts me to know that even though you're gone, you can feel my emotions but my love for you will never go away. One moment we were fighting together and the next you were gone and I knew at that moment that everything I ever wanted with you, will never happen for me. It's not worth it without you.”

I buried my head in her shoulder, the look in her eyes, the understanding which told me she knew exactly what I was talking about because she would feel the same if it was the other way around. Her look pained me more than anything and after all these years, I have never wished so much to have her back.

“At least promise me you will forgive yourself.” She said softly after a long moment of both of us crying. It made me look at her. “Promise me, Char.” I didn't know what to say but I did feel different. I felt like something was lifted off my chest. I finally got the closure I needed all these years to know she was somewhere safe and peaceful.

“I promise.” I whispered, my voice rough. “Will I ever get to see you again?”

“I am already breaking a lot of rules by being with you for so long.” She chuckled.

“Tonks and Tulip would be proud.” I said, smiling. I still couldn't comprehend how this was happening to me and where exactly were we.

“Just remember that I am with you at all times.” She smiled reassuringly. It made me feel better, knowing that she was, in a way with me, even though I couldn't see her or hold her.

“Char.” I closed my eyes as her voice filled my ears and I wanted to remember it. “It's time to go back.” She was crying but her lips were curved up. She hugged me again and I closed my arms around her as tight as I could.

“You will be okay.” She whispered in my ear. “I promise I will be waiting for you when it's your time.” I felt much better about going back, knowing that one day, we would be together again, like we were meant to be. I could live with that.

“I love you, Nova. There are no words...” I felt my throat tighten again.

“I know. I feel it.” She tried smiling. “I love you too, Charles.” She buried her fingers in my hair as she pulled me closer and kissed me. My whole body was shaking, shivers down my spine and I could feel my heart beating just like the first time we were standing under this tree and I told her how I felt about her.

I suddenly felt as if the wind was blowing me away, I heard noises that I couldn't define and I felt my whole body ache as I opened my eyes, I knew I was back.

“Thank you, Nova.” I whispered to myself and wiped the tears from my face. I felt her everywhere. I felt her on my chest, her breath on my ear, her fingers in my hair. I felt her last kiss as if it never stopped. Something filled my chest and I felt hopeful. It was the first time since she passed away, that I knew, I will be okay.

THE END

A/N: I can't believe I just posted the last chapter! This is it! My first story is now officially fully on the internet. I don't know whether to smile or cry, it's kind of overwhelming, not going to lie! 🥺

I want to thank every single one of you that read it. Honestly, it means so much. I decided to post this story to get over my fear of being rejected and I wanted to prove to myself that I can commit to something and post every day no matter the consequences. Truth be told because I am new to Tumblr and still don't know how exactly it works, I thought I will just publish a chapter per day and have this blog as a sort of private library for my stories. I had no idea anyone would find it and read it, let alone comment on it and send me such nice messages about it.

I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed publishing it. With everything that is going on in the world right now, waking up and looking forward to posting the next chapter and reading through it one more time has brought me so much happiness and my love for writing has been at least doubled and I can't wait to read more stories and write and publish new ones!

I have always seen the internet as this negative space of bad criticism and negative energy but Tumblr has proved me wrong on an almost daily basis. Everybody is so nice and amazing and encouraging and I think we need more sites like this because a lot of people would love the internet more.

I don't even know what else to write, I can't find the words to express how thankful I am for everyone who interacted with me during this story. It's been so fun and made me laugh so many times, so thank you again! ❤️

With that being said, I have a secret...

I might have done something that I didn't quite expect I would do but I just couldn't help myself!

Part 8 of this story has been so overwhelming. From the beginning to the plot twist, to everyone freaking out about Nova dying. I have finished writing this story in February and publish the first part on 16th March. I knew back then what happens in Chapters 6 and 7. I knew how everything turns out and how the story ends. But once I published it, once it was finally “out there” I felt so bad and so sad for Charlie. My characters grew on me after so many months and when I published those two chapters I needed something happier. I needed some fluff, a happier ending. I started reading different stories but nothing helped. I figured I needed a happier ending for Charlie, for MY version of our Dragon lover.

So...

I did a thing...

I wrote myself a happier ending. An alternative, if you will. It's more of another chapter with a plot twist, I guess. My dilemma now is...should I post it tomorrow? Should I make it see the light of day or should I put it in a folder on my computer and never speak of it again?

Don't get me wrong, I love the ending. I LOVE Chapter 12. It's one of my favorites. But I love the other ending just as much. I want you to decide if I should publish it. I don't want to ruin anything for anybody in case you liked the ending and you are content with how the story ends.

I will be happy either way because this has been a lovely journey. So thank you again and have a nice day! ❤️

[sapphirespencer]

“Do you think you could’ve loved me?” PART 2 (Spencer x Fem!Reader)

author’s note: I wrote this during lunch and history class so it might suck so I apologize in advance but so many of you wanted a part two and I’ll be honest, I did too. Thank you so much for the love on the first part. Requests are open if you have any :)

Word count: 1605

Tags: @youaremyfiveever​ (request to be tagged loves)

Part 1

She hadn’t said goodbye to him. Three months ago, Spencer had let the woman he wanted walk out of his life and she hadn’t even said goodbye. That broke him. She still called the team and visited more than twice a month to see them but Spencer was excluded from it all. He knew that he deserved it, he wasn’t able to give her what she wanted. He wouldn’t let himself love her as it would only hurt her in the end. She wanted kids, and he wasn’t going to be the one to give her the, as he put it, “messed up genes”. She wanted to tell everyone they knew that they were a couple, not only the team, but he was scared that an unsub would take advantage of their relationship. She wanted to grow old with him, but he didn’t want to put her through the years of turmoil that he still had to endure with his mother. Maybe he did love her, but admitting it would be selfish of him.

 Hotch watched as the clock on his wall reached 3pm, Y/N was three hours late. Not “the train is behind schedule” late, the panic inducing kind of late. Y/N had promised Jack she would be there to pick him up after his soccer game but when she was a no show, Aaron had sheepishly asked his coach to drop him off at the bureau. Hotchner looked back out at the bullpen where Jack was now playing paper toss with Morgan and Reid and waited anxiously for Y/N to walk through the glass doors, he knew something was wrong. He felt a weight press harder onto his shoulder as the time between her supposed arrival to Quantico grew longer. In a panic, He reached for the phone and dialed her office. Maybe she forgot about the flight. Maybe she got buried in work last minute. But he knew she would have called or texted. Y/N wasn’t someone to let people worry if she had any control over it, and she would’ve never let Jack down.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” The receptionist's voice rang through the phone, shaking him of his thoughts.

“Hi. Is Agent Y/N Y/L/N available?” Aaron sat up straight in his chair, awaiting her response.

“I’m sorry, sir. Miss Y/L/N is on leave at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?” His heart sank to his stomach. She had arranged time off three to four times a month to meet with the team again. He had hoped that her request for time off had just been denied and she had no time to call but with Y/N being missing and an unsub that knew the team far too well being let loose, he knew that her disappearance was not a coincidence. After asking the specifics of when Y/N had left her office last night and making a few more phone calls, Aaron prepared to present the case to his team.

Spencer was confused on why Hotchner would flinch every couple of sentences into the case he was presenting. He noticed as his superior would reach to tug on his tie every few seconds, as if it was cutting off his air supply. He wondered if it had something to do with the fact that Jack was in the next room over but he knew that it made no sense. 

“There’s one more thing...the unsub, I think he has Y/N.” That when it all clicked for the super genius. Hotch was in distress because Y/N was missing. Y/N was missing. She was missing. The unsub took her. The unsub…

“That’s impossible. She’s smarter than him, she wouldn’t have let him take her. It’s not possible.” The team watched as Spencer failed to acknowledge the situation.

“Spencer, I asked a friend to check out the security cameras in the parking garage of her workplace. She was hit in the back of the head as she was getting in her car. I saw the footage, I saw him take her. But we can find her, we have to find her, we leave in 20 minutes.”  The team quickly shot up from their seats and filed out of the conference room, all of them determined to get in their cars in the next 5 minutes.

It had been 3 hours since they had reached D.C., the hour long ride there felt like an eternity for all of them. Spencer hadn’t spit out a single fact in the past four hours. The world felt unfamiliar to him for the first time in his entire life. He didn’t know who he would be in a world where Y/N didn’t exist and he couldn’t help but think of what he could’ve done to prevent this from happening. Maybe if he had just told her he loved her, if he had just thrown down the walls he had built, then maybe she would’ve been safe and with him right now.

“Spencer, what are you thinking? Anything could be useful now, pretty boy.” Morgan hadn’t found the genius hard to profile in the moment, it was obvious he was tearing himself up inside looking for answers.

“Nothing. I need coffee.” Shutting out the rest of the team, Spencer walked to the small coffee machine in the corner of the room, oblivious to Hotch bursting into the room.

“We found her. Garcia found her location, well she found two locations actually. Morgan, Reid, and I will take the first one. JJ, Emily, and Rossi take the second. Let’s go get Y/N.” Dropping his empty mug onto the carpeted floor, Reid was the first to flee the room, despite Derek holding the keys to the black SUV. The car was quiet for only the first 5 minutes of their 15 minute ride to Y/N. Hotch took note of Spencer’s shaking leg and constant nail picking, another display of how obvious his love for Y/N was.

“You have to tell her, Reid. You can’t do this to her.” Morgan spoke up, almost as if he had read Hotch’s thoughts.

“No...no I can’t.” He had meant for his voice to be stern but it wavered, showing how close to tears he truly was.

“Yes, you can. All she wants is you, Spencer. She still asks about you.” Hotch interjected

“She does?” 

“All the time, pretty boy. We all know you love her, it’s just her that doesn’t. You need to tell her, kid.” Derek watched Reid wipe his eyes from the rearview mirror. It was then when it hit him, he had to have her in his life, no matter what their future brought. He didn’t want his last words to her to be ‘I don’t know.’ 

“I do...I do love her. I need her to be safe. I need to talk to her. I need to see her. Morgan, how far are we?” 

“Almost there, pretty boy, almost there.” 

They had found Y/N alive but the unsub had drugged her, leaving her unconscious. Seeing her body look so lifeless had instantly brought Spencer to tears, and as he sat in the ambulance next to her, he never let go of her hand, repeating those three words she longed to hear fall out of his mouth. She had several broken ribs, a broken arm, and a mild concussion. She had made it without severe injuries and everyone was grateful for it. Y/N hadn’t woken up yet but Spencer waited, only leaving her side once to use the bathroom. The team visited every couple of hours, checking on the lovesick genius and hoping to see Y/N awake. Spencer, completely immersed in the book he was reading out loud for Y/N, hadn’t even noticed the first time she squeezed his familiar hand. And as she opened her eyes, she was glad that it was the man she loved next to her, even if he had said he could never love her. 

“the lights are too bright.” Her voice croaked out to him, and he instantly reached for the glass of water next to him, hoping it would soothe her throat. He dimmed the hospital bed lights upon her request.

“Spence...h-”

“Y/N, I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I was afraid I could never give you the life that you wanted so I let you walk out. Letting you leave has to be my biggest regret. I wish I had stopped you, I wish I had told you then. I wish it hadn’t gone this far. I wish it hadn’t taken you getting abducted for me to realize how much I need you in my life, how much I need you alive. I’m so in love with you Y/N Y/L/N and if it’s too late, I understand. If you can’t do th-”

“I never stopped loving you, Spencer.” That’s all it took for the both of them to break into tears. With her working hand, Y/N reached up to cup Spencer’s cheek, wiping his tears with her thumb.

“Do you still want me, messed up as I am?” He nestled into her hand, realizing how much he had missed her touch. 

“I want you every single day, Spence. We still have to talk, but I want us.” And when Y/N was released from the hospital, they sat on their couch and talked all through the night. They were both going to make it work, despite their fears.

imagine the gif as spence’s face when you tell him you love him aHHH

[elegantwizardtree]

not the brother she wanted but the brother she needed

takes place during the Halloween episode of wandavision

"Hey, sis don't sweat it, it's not like your dead husband can die twice!" At that moment, Pietro knew he would regret ever saying that sentence because no sooner did those words leave his mouth was he sent flying backward and into the wall. He tried with all his might to get up and move, but no such luck, so the speedster remained lying there on the ground, waiting for the red wiggles to lift off.

"Boy's, I need you two to run home for me, I'll take care of your father... And your uncle, but right now, you don't need to be here for that." Wanda stated firmly as she carefully turned the twins around and gently pushed them towards the direction of their home.

Once the boys had indeed disappeared in a grey blur, Wanda turned and marched her way over to the man pretending to be her brother. She had a nerve to pick with him, but not right now, she needed to attend to her husband first. "I am not finished with you." She grunted out, pointing a slim finger down towards the man laid out before her. She didn't even let the imposter speak before she lifted off into the air and towards the struggling energy of Vision.

Once her focus on saving Vision and expanding on the hex had been completed, Wanda found herself slowly walking towards the spot she had left her brother. The man had fallen asleep between the hour she had thrown him into the wall and now, the peaceful look on the man's face caused her to pause. He looked tired, much more tired than she was used to seeing him being. In the days that this man had shown up at her doorstep and called her couch home, Wanda had never seen such a look on his face. She was puzzled.

So, with a gentle wave of her hands, she let the red threads of her magic dissipate, no longer did they hold the blond man down. And instead of immediately awakening the stranger, she began to inspect him more closely, trying to point out all the differences between him and her twin. The most obvious was the face, and his hair, when he first showed up was completely silver, it wasn't the dyed drained out looking grey that it was now, but the exact color of silver. It struck Wanda as odd, and the tattoo on his should. Her own Pietro didn't have a tattoo, they hadn't the money for one, the only "tattoo" he had, that they both had were the numbers on their wrist. The numbers Hydra associated the two with.

Moving on from his features, she spotted the necklace that he had come with. It was no longer hanging from his neck, but broken. The impact he had made with the wall must've caused the beads to break and to scatter all over the place. It was kind of a relief to see because Wanda hadn't liked it. The feeling she had gotten from it when her armed had brushed against it one day to pull her brother into a hug was rather disturbing. The energy was off-putting and she had nearly pushed him away from her when she felt it.

Before she could focus more on the broken, scattered beads, a low grunt sounded from before her, and slowly blinking brown eyes looked up at her in confusion.

Pietro had awakened and it was time to get to business.

"I- wait, where am I? And who're you!" The alarmed voice of a confused and scared man yelled out. The imposter was frantic and looking about himself in a daze as if he couldn't focus on anything around him. His fingers blurred in an image of pale white as if he was trying to busy himself to calm him down. It pulled at Wanda's heart for some odd reason. Whatever she had done to this man who had claimed to be her brother had caused some strange form of a memory wipe.

"You're in Westview," Wanda was cut off at the pained look that flashed upon the stranger's face. Something about her words seemed to have greatly upset him, and his brown eyes immediately began to water, "Westview, New Jersey. I'm Wanda, Wanda Maximoff you've been staying with me and my family for the past week... Do you mind telling me who you are?" Wanda gently asked as she was careful to take a seat before the distressed man who froze up as soon as her name had crossed her lips. She wasn't sure why, but she was confident she would have that exact reaction once he stayed his.

"I'm Peter, Peter Maximoff and why are you claiming to be my dead sister! Why am I in New Jersey instead of New York! I don't remember- why don't I remember how I got here?!" Peter was panicking now, his breathing was becoming ragged and hard, his fingers had gone up into his hair and began to pull violently. "And why, why do I have memories that aren't my own!" He sobbed out as he fell over onto his side and continued to tug, tugging as if he continued it would get the unwanted images from his mind.

At this point Wanda was worried, she didn’t know what to do, and was honestly extremely terrified. It's been so long since she's held someone down from an attack like this. Her brother had had one shortly their battle with Ultron and then she could barely do anything but helplessly watch. Her twin had gotten into a habit of running through his tears, and she had expected the same from this one, from Peter who ultimately was convinced he was a Maximoff. So, in an attempt to ground him, Wanda carefully reached into his head and plucked out the happiest memory to play with him, and it was on she found happy to share with him.

--

DC 1965

Peter was smiling happily to his left. A little girl with red hair and faint dust freckles across her cheeks smiled just as brightly at Peter. Her front teeth were missing and they stood at the side of a hospital bed, both seeming to jump in excitement, more so the girl than her brother. Peter was vibrating in excitement.

"Be quiet now, your sister is sleeping." A tired woman sounded from the bed. In her arms she held a baby wrapped in a white blanket, a newborn, Wanda had noticed, obviously a new addition to the small family.

"Can't help it, Ms. Maximoff's just been born!" The young Peter cheered softly as he funky slowed down to take a look at the baby his mother was moving over towards his sister's waiting arms. The red-haired little girl tensed up slightly before gently taking her sister into her arms. She was scared to hold her.

"Now, Pietro, be patient, don't want you getting too excited and accidentally dropping your sister now, do we?" Silver hair fell into the young boy's face as he shook his head, an obvious frown rooted deeply upon his face as the boy looked down at his converse-covered feet.

His sister, Wanda, had soon placed the baby in a now still Pietro's arms and laughed softly as the boy immediately froze up.

--

The soft laughed seemed to echo on as the memory faded. The Wanda not from those memories gasped softly as she came too, it was beautiful memory to watch, but also felt too painful to have brought forth on her own.

Peter's cries had now stopped, his fingers which had been painful pulling at his dishwater grey hair had long since stopped, now they laid out of the hard grown before him.

The two sat in silence for some time, neither wanting to speak up before the other. One feeling too guilty for entering the mind of the other and the other, the other still trying to work past the emotions of a brother who'd been dead to this world for years.

"I think I know why you're here." Wanda soon broke the deafening silence as she smoothed out the material of her jeans. She had been working on this conclusion every since she had picked through Peter's mind in the search for that one memory. Without meaning to she had touched upon several others, others that pointed to Peter being her brother and towards his twin being herself, it was a thought that seemed too far fetched, but after experiencing the strange powers of the Doctor during the final battle against Thanos greatly helped back up her conclusion.

"I think. I think you're from another universe. One in which you too have lost your sibling. I'm not sure how you did, I wasn't brave enough to go searching that far, but obviously in a way so traumatic that it pulled you through and to me. I have lost everyone and, and before this place, before Westview I called out for someone, anyone willing to listen." Wanda looked down in shame, her hair falling to cover her face as she began to cry. She didn't want to see the look on this man's face. He had his own life, his grief and pulling him away from it, unwilling at that, still made Wanda feel guilty. Guilty enough to try her hardest to send him back, but before she could even bring the option up, he had spoken.

"It sounds crazy, yeah, but I'm down with that. Hell, I've just lived through two whole decades with you within, what, a week? I can get past the whole, "being from a whole nother universe" all fine and dandy, and I... It's starting to come back to me, but I don't think it was you who- well okay, no scratch that out, it was originally you, I fell through and into the arms of one Agent Woo, and then boom, purple surrounded me and... Well, I don't remember much after that." Peter shrugged his shoulders and began to play with the torn strands of them jean shorts he was wearing. He had a scared smile across his lips, but he was still willing to look at his sister.

"I've been through a lot from where I'm from. And you've been through a lot from what I've seen on your brother's end, and the shit list of that has probably been expanded upon greatly! But, until we figure out how to get me back home," Peter paused and pulls Wanda into a hug. He holds the shaking woman to his chest and places a gentle kiss upon the crown of her head, "I'm going to be the twin that you need. Because we aren't supposed to live our lives without the other half. It feels like an empty gaping hole in my heart without my Wanda, and I bet you feel the same way about your Pietro."

Wanda wrapped her arms around Peter, pulling him just as close to herself as he had her, and he was right, nothing felt right without Pietro, she had been living her life pretty much in a hollow shell ever since her brother had so recklessly thrown himself before Clint as a shield and part of her, part of her will never forgive him for leaving her in this cruel world to fend for herself, but another part, another part couldn't be more proud of the hero he had become in his last living moments.

"Of course," She spoke weakly and hid her face against Peter's neck as she began to shake even harder. This was a hug she hadn't felt in years, it may be coming from someone who wasn't her brother, but the love and comfort that came from the contact felt the same. It felt like home, it felt like being whole once again.

[thequeenb]

In love With My Enemy

Poppy x MC

Have you read those cheesy novels? Yes the super romantic ones, i know you did dont lie. That's the best way i can describe what is happening right now. Poppy holds a puppy in her hands rubbing its belly happily, she hasn't seen me yet and i am actually glad. I can't hear the conversation between her and the guy that works here but her laughter fills the room and my stomach turns at the sight

Its the first time i see Poppy so free, she must feel right at home. I smile approaching slowly, she turns around changing her expression completely, adorable Pops

"Aww i didn't knew you had a soft spot"

Poppy rolls her eyes but i can tell she is trying to hide a smile "If you tell anyone about this i won't hesitate to end your career, kick you out of Belvoire and make your life miserable"

Oh wow she didn't even shutter, that's impressive, should i be turned on or scared? Maybe both? My gaze falls to the adorable puppy in her hands and i can't help but pet its little head

Her eyes soften for a moment and all i can do is be fascinated and surprised by this new side of her

"My daddy bought me this animal shelter when i was eight years old"

"Oh..um nice? Is that what rich people do when they want a pet?" i tease her but her eyes seem to get distant and i think i might just hit a sore spot, damnit

"I wanted a puppy but my mother didn't allow pets inside the house so daddy got it for me. Its nice but i don't think they quite understood my point of view"

I look around noticing we are left alone and the crew is probably getting ready for our shooting. I reach to place my hand on her shoulder but i stop my hand mid air, remembering that we are actually enemies but are we?

Her gaze falls to my hand as i pull it back and i don't know if it's my mind playing games but i can see a mix of relief and disappointment in her eyes.

She lets the puppy down walking towards a room, i guess that's my cue to follow. I can now see the height difference between us and i smile to myself, she is so cute really

She leads me to a room filled with pink pillows, small pet beds and toys. She rans her hand on a shelf where several pictures are framed beautifully, why would she bring me here?

"It used to be my favourite place here, because no one could interrupt my thoughts" she holds a frame in her hands gesturing at me to approach closer

"This was my first pet, her name was Lucy" she taps at the glass and awww its the cutest thing have ever seen really. Its a beautiful brown Pomeranian and oh my god

"Is that little Poppy?" I gasp actually surprised by how innocent she looks. Of course she is wearing designer but the look on her face is.. genuine happiness and it made me think..I haven't seen Poppy smiling this way ever

She yanks the frame putting it carefully back "I shouldn't have shown you" Did i just made her shy? Damn where is the real Poppy? Is this her kind twin sister?

"Oh come ooooon you were beautiful since a kid hm?"

She looks me in the eyes and i can sense a rouge colour forming on her cheeks. She walks past me sitting on an extremely pink couch. I don't know if i should sit next to her or stand where i am but she pats at the spot next to her and my heart starts racing

"Sooo, this place is amazing I don't see why you didn't want it" i rest my head on my palm watching her intently

She sighs looking at me without hesitation this time "My parents were never around when i was growing up, so i really wanted a company. But they always had to do everything in their own way"

The puzzle is starting to get solved as i learn more about her past. I see pure vulnerability when i look at her in the eyes. In her own way she makes me feel special and I won't take that for granted

"Do you wish you could grow up in different circumstances such as mine?" I curiously ask

"Is this a trap?" She raises her eyebrow and i roll my eyes

"No, i am a great listener i am just trying to understand you"

"Why would you want that?"

Yes Bea, why would you want that? Aren't you suppose to hate her guts? If yes why is your heartbeat quickening? Why is your mind racing?

She notice i take time to respond and to avoid this awkward silence she finally speak "Can i imagine myself without designer clothes? Hell no"

I chuckle, good job Pops "That was a nice way to deflect my question"

Poppy smiles and its the cutest thing i have seen all day despite the cute animals here "You dork" she leans closer and her eyes widen in realisation

"I won't judge you, in fact i knew you were mean for a reason" i can now see her eyes sparkle and all i can do is sit back and admire her

Today she is very beautiful and her perfume fills my nose. I can see that she put extra effort this afternoon, is it the commercial or is it the fact that she planned for us to be alone? To be honest i kind of wish its the second option

"I asked you to help me bring Chloe down not become best friends"

"And who told you that i want to be your best friend?" I smirk daring to take her hand in mine. At first she just stares at me but doesn't pull back

"No one deserves to feel alone during their best years. When i was growing up we didn't have a lot on our plate but i got to spend time with my mother at the farm"

I can feel tears forming so i wipe them away knowing well i will look weak. Since i got here i miss my hometown more than anything in the world, the smell of the earth, the fresh air, everything.

"Oh right, because spending time with pigs covered in dirt sounds so much fun" Poppy responds ironically and for a moment i regret opening up, that until she pats my hand

"I..i wish i had a simpler childhood" she admits and i can clearly see tears ready to roll down her perfect face

Before she can wipe them away i place both of my hands on her cheeks wiping each tear away. Her eyes are closed trying to avoid my gaze but she suddenly pulls back stunned

"I- we shouldn't even talk about that Farmsville! Ugh you are annoying"

Its obvious that emotions aren't something she is fond of but i am trying my best to make her understand that feeling sad and nostalgic is normal

"Hey, hey! Not now that we made progress damnit" i pull her closer to me and that's when my breath catches

"What are you--"

"Take a deep breath and look at me" Even though she is about to protest she swallows hard doing as i said so

I take her hand placing it where her heart is. At first she looks at me confused but then i press it against her

"Can you feel your heart beating? That makes you human, humans are capable of having feelings. Therefore its normal to have emotions even more normal to need to rant about something that troubles you, do you understand me?"

I get lost in her eyes and her lips part wanting to respond but words cant describe how she is feeling. She takes a shaky breath and without thinking twice she closes the distance between us with a kiss

She press her body against me sighing happily, eagerly. She caught me off guard but i quickly set a pace. Poppy is starving for affection so i make this experience soft and gentle

I stroke her hair as my thumb runs circles on her cheek. I feel her shudder, overwhelmed by all the emotions she is feeling at once. I can't help but smile against her lips and she does the same

"Nobody ever talked to me this way" she says breathless

I rest my forehead against hers sighing "You deserve so much more than you think you do"

Aaaaaaand we had to be interrupted of course. Someone knocks at the door and Poppy jumps snapping back to reality, god damnit.

"Miss Min-Sinclair are you ready?" A man asks and i roll my eyes. Good job buddy we were having a moment!

"Y-es i will be out in two minutes" she can barely speak a sentence and i smirk to myself

"Go out first i need a moment" she pushes me towards the door, oh so now she forgot everything i said?

"But--"

"This is not a time for questions go go go!" Aw frustrated Poppy is sweet

I reached the door but I stop turning around to smile at her "We aren't done yet" and like that i step out of the room leaving a clearly confused Poppy behind.

Every possibility and every thought of her fills my mind as i step out of the room. She is different i knew it but i never thought things could end up this way. I smile to myself picturing a future with Poppy and i wont stop until i tried everything i have, i am coming for your hand Queen Bee, not your crown so be aware.

Tag list: @lolimugly @origmansello @greatestflirt-hero @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @princessstellaris @coldbatfriendroad @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @ghalind @justastranger-passing @nydeiri @simpforpoppy @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @dibberdipper

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XIV

(A/N at the end)

Parts I-XIII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII Part XIV

James and Matthew were hovering outside the Devil’s Tavern, which presented an august Georgian facade to the mundane eyes and was the site of many a municipal meeting and festivity. Or rather, as Matthew acknowledged, James was the one hovering, conspicuous in his anxiety, while Matthew leaned against the inn’s front wall, smoking a cheroot and gazing upward in the annoying way he did when he was overcome with boredom.

The Devil’s Tavern was the only place left in London that none of their parents knew anything about. Not even Will Herondale knew about his son’s inauspicious lease in the tavern and would therefore be the safest, most logical place for them to conduct their research.

“What time did you tell them to be here?” asked Matthew, still musing at something in the sky. “I do wish you’d stop fidgeting.”

“I told them noon,” said James. “But Christopher is not the most reliable man we know.”

“He is the most reliable when something is in need of exploding or a new specimen needs to be collected,” said Matthew. “Perhaps next time tell him that you have an enchanted box that needs to be unlocked.”

“Does this feel wrong to you?” asked James. “We’re supposed to spend this hour patrolling and we’re hiding in The bloody Devil’s Tavern from our parents.”

“This is, in a sort, patrolling,” said Matthew. “We’re conducting research on how to locate your demon granddad and kill the bastard, but in order to do that, we need to find a way for you to access the shadow realm again or it’s all for not. So, we’re doing our job, just not in the way we’re expected to be doing our job.” Matthew slapped James’s hand away from his hair. “I said stop fidgeting.”

“If we’re caught…” James started but couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. While the four of the Merry Thieves agreed that the risk was worth the reward of defying Charles Fairchild’s newly established rules, the risk still hung over James’s head like an anvil waiting to drop. He’d reassured himself time and time again that ordinary chivalry demanded action and that his indignation had more to do with Charles’s complete need for control than the punishment being fair or responsible.

“Oh for Raziel’s sake, we won’t be,” said Matthew. “We’re trained in being discreet, remember?” Just then the door to the Tavern burst open and a head attired with goggles, poked out.

“I don’t see them,” said Christopher before he turned his head to where James and Matthew were standing. He removed his goggles up into his hair, wiped his face with an emerald scarf, and shoved the door open with his shoulder. “What are you two standing out here for? We’ve been waiting for you in the Devil for nearly twenty minutes. Thought the parentals got a hold of you.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?” asked an exasperated James. “We’ve been waiting… never mind. Get inside, quickly, before someone notices us.”

“I must admit, I’m a bit tempted to see how red my brother’s face can get if he catches us deliberately disobeying him,” said Matthew as the sound of boots clambered up the wooden stairs.

“This coming from the one having a crisis over the thought of being strapped to his brother’s desk,” said James over his shoulder. Christopher laughed ahead of them.

“That was before I witnessed my mother make him cry after threatening to strip us of our marks,” said Matthew.

James paused. “She made him cry?”

“Weep,” said Matthew. “I believe the words ‘yes, Mummy’ were said at least twice.”

“You lie!” said Christopher ahead of them.

“I exaggerate, Kit,” said Matthew as they reached their door, “but I never lie.”

The door burst open like a tightly wound jack-in-the-box as the three boys burst into the room. James walked across the room and took a seat at a small table in the window nook while Matthew made himself comfortable on the long sofa. Christopher met James at the table and busied himself with turning over the pages of an old book.

“Where have you lot been?” asked Thomas from the couch. “We’ve been waiting for you for twenty minutes.”

“They were outside,” said Christopher, examining the pages of the book.

James stood, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to expose his forearms, as he walked to the center of the room. “All right, we have only forty minutes left of our patrol to come up with a plan on how to access the shadow world without the use of my useless power.”

“How’s that coming along?” asked Thomas.

“Am I in the shadow realm?”

“No.”

“That’s how it’s coming along.” He pressed his back against the wall opposite Matthew, Thomas, and Christopher. “It’s never felt like this before. Everything that usually works, isn’t. Chaos. Danger. Pain. Isolation. Even when I feared Lucie and Cordelia were trapped there, I still couldn’t push past this invisible wall.”

“Invisible wall?” asked Christopher.

“Yes,” said James. “That’s what it feels like, an invisible wall blocking me.”

“Perhaps you need more fiber in your diet,” grinned Matthew.

James squinted at him, unsure if he was joking, and decided to carry on without acknowledging  the statement. “We need to start researching a way into the shadow realm that doesn’t involve my ability.”

The sound of chair legs scraping against the floor turned everyone’s attention towards Christopher as he shoved himself away from the table. “I’ve read about this,” he stated, excitedly. “Pockets. Uh… uh… portals they were called, but they’re like pockets in our realm to other realms. You experienced something like it at the cemetery which allowed Cordelia to access the realm after you and for Matthew and Lucie to draw you back.”

“Brilliant,” said Matthew. “Now that we have an access point, let’s come up with a plan to kill the bloody bastard.”

“Well,” said Christopher, sliding his glasses back up his nose. “We don't necessarily have an access point.”

“You just said—“

“Allow him to finish, Matthew,” said Thomas, looking like a giant inside the low ceiling room. “Go on, Kit.”

“They move.”

“The pockets?” asked James.

“Yes,” said Christopher, his almost sapphire eyes, enlarged by his lenses, glanced around at the faces staring back at him. “They appear in a spot but only remain for 12 to 24 hours.”

“Brilliant,” grumbled Matthew and slipped lower on the couch.

“Is there any way to track these pockets?” asked Thomas, while watching James stand and pace the floor.

“I cannot recall,” said Christopher. “I read about them in the forbidden section of the library at the academy. I was researching alternative methods of travel and found an extensive research that featured combinations of dimensional manipulation.”

“In English, if you would please,” said Matthew, lolling his head to look at Christopher.

“I am speaking English,” said Christopher. “If you are requesting for me to simplify it for you, then be plain about it.”

Matthew rolled his eyes as Thomas asked, “Do you remember what book it was?”

“Of course.”

“Can it be found in a public library?”

“No.” The boys released a communal exhale.

“Well,” said Matthew as he picked a piece of lint on his jade trousers. “It appears we’re left with piss but no pot.”

“Not necessarily,” said Christopher, stepping forward into the center of the room. His eyes locked on his feet the way they often were when deep in thought. “There is someone who might be in possession of a copy or at least has the authority to access one.”

James and Christopher met eyes as they both came to the same solution at exactly the same moment. A smile curved on James’s lips and he chided himself for not thinking of it sooner before allowing disappointment to consume him.

“Are you going to leave us in suspense?” asked Matthew.

“Magnus,” said James. “We’re going to see Magnus.”

                                                             . . .

The girl who came through Cordelia’s bedroom door the next morning did not seem strong enough to carry the tray on which rested a cup of tea in a florid porcelain cup and a heavy jug of hot water for the washstand. She was hollow in the cheeks and narrow shouldered, her hair pulled back mercilessly into a single braid. Her dress and apron hung loosely, and her boots looked comically laced to such scrawny ankles.

She hummed to herself as she set the tray on the floor, transferred the jug to the washstand and brought the tea, her lips clamped in concentration to keep the cup from wobbling on its gilded saucer.

“Hello,” said Cordelia, her voice rough from lack of use. “Can you please tell me where I am?”

The girl looked up, her eyes expanded as the tea fell from her hands and shattered on the floor.

Cordelia gasped, as the girl let out a scream so loud, she nearly had to cover her ears. “SHE’S AWAKE! OH BY THE ANGEL, MISS CARSTAIRS IS AWAKE! COME SEE…”

Cordelia grimaced as she braced herself on her elbows and lifted herself up. Every muscle felt as if she’d went to bed sore and hadn’t used them again for several days. The light in the room seemed aged, as if it were late afternoon or early evening. She was used to the pale dawn hours, the birds’ thin choir accompanying her waking thoughts. Curiously, she did not feel guilty for sleeping so late into the morning. The room felt familiar to her. Not the emerald green wallpaper with gold etchings or the leather winged armchair, nor the desk with the stack of books resting closest to the window. A smell in the air reminded her of something. Wherever she was, she felt safe and glad to be there.

“CARSTAIRS IS AWAKE… HURRY! QUICK!” the girl’s voice carried down the other direction of the hall along with the shuffling sound of her absurd boots.

Cordelia shifted to swing her legs out from under the heavy covers when a sharp pain in her side stole her breath.

“Best to stay put,” said a familiar voice by the door. “Until one of the Brothers gets here.”

“Alastair,” cried Cordelia. “Finally, a familiar face. Where am I?”

“The London Institute,” said Alastair, as he stepped into the room in white pin striped pajamas. A wooden crutch tucked under his left armpit as he hobbled on a bandaged foot towards her. “Where we’ve been for the last week or so.”

“Alastair,” said Cordelia, looking at his leg. “What’s happened to your leg?”

“Broke it in three different places after being thrown through the air by that demon.” The bed dipped as he sat down beside her. “Don’t fret, sister, it’s nearly healed. The Brothers want me off it while the bones properly set. I should be good as new by next week. How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” She placed her hand on her rib cage and found an extra layer of padding beneath her nightgown. “Week? You’ve said we’ve been here for the last week?”

His dark eyebrows curved in concern as his eyes looked over her face. “Cordelia, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Cordelia thought about the last memory her mind could conjure. The picture looked muddy and weak in her mind. She’s a young girl running through a patch of daisies on a cliff’s edge, but that couldn’t be right. She’s a woman grown now. Another image of London through a carriage window as the moist air off the Thames hit her face. Ice cream dripping down her hand. Dancing under seductive lights with Cortana. James’s hands on her face as he kissed her on a desk. James kissing Grace. Saying goodbye to James.

“I left,” said Cordelia, closing her eyes to stop the memory. “We left, together. We were going to Alicante.”

“Yes,” said Alastair. “Do you remember what happened after? Do you remember the attack?”

“Attack?” asked Cordelia. “No, I don’t remember any attack. What happened?”

Alastair placed his on top of hers. “Maybe we should wait for Uncle to arrive.”

Cordelia gripped his hand in her own. “Alastair, what happened? What attack? Is everyone all right?”

He opened his mouth to answer when footsteps filled the hall and a chorus of people filtered in through the doorway. A sobbing Sona pushed ahead of everyone and enveloped Cordelia in a hug. Her mother felt weak, frail underneath Cordelia’s hands, she could feel the bones protruding from her shoulders and the bumps of her spine through the thick fabric of her dress. Her shoulder bone bumped Cordelia’s chin as she peered over it to see her Uncle Jem, dressed in his robes and quiet as a statue against the wall. In front of him stood Tessa Gray beside her husband Will. She watched the doorway, hoping and dreading, for James to walk through.

When he did not, she closed her eyes to stop the burn behind them and the pit that grew ever wider inside of her stomach.

“My darling, are you all right?” Sona asked, caressing Cordelia’s cheeks and hair. Cordelia noted the hollowness in her mother’s cheeks.

“I think so,” said Cordelia. “Alastair was just telling me about an attack?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No,” said Cordelia and looked to her Uncle. “I don’t remember anything past leaving the Institute with Alastair for Alicante.”

“It’s not uncommon for some memory loss to occur after the sort of head injuries she endured,” said a quiet voice inside of her mind, but everyone else seemed to hear it too as they all turned to Brother Zachariah. “With some rest and recollection of events, the memories may return to her.”

Sona sat on the bed beside Cordelia, their hands still joined. “You were attacked by a demon. It poisoned you with a barb in your rib cage. When Lucie and James found you, you were nearly dead from your injuries.”

Cordelia pressed her hand harder against her ribs until she felt the sharp pain of a recent injury under the pressure. “Why did it attack our carriage? Demons don’t normally just attack a random carriage.”

“We were hoping that you could tell us,” said Will across the room. “We’ve tried to locate it, but it left no other traces of itself except for the attack against you and your brother. No other sightings. No suspicious activity. Alastair can only recall up to the point of being thrown by the thing, but you were still conscious at that point. We thought maybe you killed it before succumbing to your injuries, but the lack of demon blood at the scene suggests otherwise.”

Cordelia closed her eyes and attempted to stumble through her memories again. She recalled arriving with Alastair to the Herondale manor. Alastair walking her to the door with an umbrella to shield her from the pouring rain. She was trembling at the thought of what she was about to do, of what she was about to lose. Alastair offered to go in with her, but she declined.

She couldn’t recall who answered the door or how she got up the stairs to the library where James often hid away from the world in the comfort of his father’s collection of books. She couldn’t recall knocking, but she remembered him answering the door and the orange glow of the firelight that matched the color of his eyes. She remembered the relief those eyes when it was she he opened the door to.

She could vaguely remember the words that were said, or when she left him, or finding herself back in the carriage with Alastair, but the look in his eyes when she said goodbye would remain with her forever.

“No.” She cleared her throat. “No, I’m sorry. The last thing that I remember is leaving here after saying goodbye to James.”

“It’s all right,” whispered Sona as she stroked Cordelia’s hair. “You’ve only just woken up. Perhaps after you’ve had something to eat and talked with Lucie, or James, something will return to you.”

The feeling of something she needed to do sparked at the mention of her old friend. She needed to talk to Lucie.

“Lucie stepped out for the morning,” said Tessa, eyeing Cordelia sympathetically, “but she’s due to return any moment. She’ll be overjoyed to know that you’re awake.”

“And James?” Sona asked.

“On patrol,” answered Will, with a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “He won’t be back until this evening.”

Cordelia looked away, at her brother’s bandaged leg, at the tear in the hem of her nightgown, at the rune etched into the top of her bare foot, as the memories of her last conversation with James crashed into her.

“I wanted so badly to marry you,” she said. “But a year with you, as your wife, is not possibly long enough.”

The thought of speaking to James after their last conversation left a stone in Cordelia’s stomach, but perhaps it was for the best if she were to be staying in London while they both mended. If any one in the room knew of what transpired between James and Cordelia that last night, they weren’t letting on. Rubbing at the wound on her ribs, she searched the faces around her and found only concern and sympathy looking on at her. A wood pigeon, always the cello in the orchestra of birdsong, gave out its low double coo from the open window, like a beat from a large drum, which began to vibrate in her chest, and she thought it would have been very pleasant just to have remained asleep. 

(Author’s Notes: Hello again everyone! I’m back. I hope you all are doing well. It’s been truly a strange couple of weeks dealing with the aftermath of the death of my beautiful niece (God, that will never get easier to say or write), but we are mending as a family and working towards moving forward through the grief. I’ve been able to spend a lot of time with my sister and my nephew, just trying to keep them busy, but the past few weeks have settled down a little bit allowing me a chance to write and get back into a few projects that I have in the works. Thank you all for the kind words, and well-wishes, and your patience. I’m really excited to be back writing and posting again. I hope you enjoyed this installment. If you did please reblog so others can enjoy it too, please give it a like, hit me with a lovely comment, and follow along with me. Next installment is coming Sunday 9/6.)

[thefanficmonster]

Much Cooler

Corpse Husband & Emma Langevin 

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: There’s always a certain level of uncertainty when meeting someone you’ve only known online. There’s that sense of insecurity that your relationship with them will never be the same or - even worse - that their view of you might change for the worse. But there’s nothing more thrilling than seeing the person you’ve been talking to constantly for the past however long standing across from you. 

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request and I’m so terribly sorry for how late it’s coming out but I hope the fic makes it worth the wait! Lots of love, Vy ❤

“CORPSE! Wake up you famous dumbass!“ is the first thing the poor man heard over the phone at 9 AM on this fine Saturday morning.

It’s more than enough to make him contemplate why he even decided to pick it up in the first place considering he wouldn’t have been very able to participate in the conversation due to his sleepiness. He also, of course, made the mistake of not checking the caller ID which apparently wasn’t necessary considering how recognizable that voice and accent are.

“It’s 9 AM, Emma.“ He states as a tired parent would to a child, “I’m concerned as to why you’re up so early. More so as to why you’re calling me of all people.“

He can practically hear her roll her eyes but he still smirks to himself, knowing she can’t contradict him or argue since he’s completely right with his claims. “Whatever. Remind me to never call you to congratulate you on a milestone again.“

Now that pokes at his attention with a stick. Lately, said attention has proven to be a hibernating bear, leaving Corpse with a lack of interest or motivation for anything but damn if that sentence wasn’t enough to roll him out of bed and hop on PC. “What? What milestone? Subscribers?“

“Nope! You got two million likes on ‘E-girls are ruining my life’! I can’t believe I have to tell you this! Didn’t you notice the numbers climbing?!“ Emma, as annoyed and sarcastic as she’s trying to sound, she’s obviously overjoyed on his behalf and is super proud of him and of the project she luckily agreed to take a small part in.

As his PC boots up, Corpse can’t help but roll his eyes at Emma’s comment, “Well unlike you I have better things to do than refresh a page over and over aga-” His sentence is quickly cut off when he sees the number of likes under the song for himself.

Knowing that he’d find it there didn’t change the feeling of seeing it for the first time at all. It’s so surreal and so hard for his mind to comprehend. Seeing as how little he thinks of himself, his content and his art, this is like his success coming to slap him across the face as if to punctuate to him how wrong that mindset is.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you offered to take me out for at least a coffee to celebrate, bro.“ Emma comments sarcastically, joking only halfway from what he can sense.

He smirks, “Trying to even the playing field, I see.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’s still a faceless mystery to her while her face is literally the cover art for one of his songs.

She laughs but is quick to dismiss his claim, “Nah, I might be a curious and nosey little shit on other occasions, but other people’s privacy is not something I dig my nose into. However, if I were to even the playing field between us it wouldn’t be appearance-wise. More personality-wise. For my sake and yours I choose to believe you are way cooler in person than you are through messages or on a call.”

This withdraws a genuine fit of laughter from Corpse who throws his head back, a few strands of hair moving aside to reveal his shiny eyes, “Well then, instead of giving me the benefit of the doubt, how about we settle it once and for all? Tomorrow? I’ll text you the location.”

Emma’s eyebrows shoot upwards as soon as she comprehends his words and the tone that leaves no room for her to assume he’s joking, “Wait what? How come you’re agreeing to this? And so easily? Nah, this a trap if I’ve ever seen it.”

Corpse laughs yet again, “No trap, Em. I just can’t have you doubting my coolness.”

                                                             *  *  *

The main reason as to why Corpse requested for this meeting to be today is because he feared that if he had more than twenty four hours to dwell on it he’d chicken out. Little did he know it was the same for Emma. Their friendship has only ever existed with the bridge of social media connecting them and they both can’t help but fear the other might not like who they are IRL. They fear they unintentionally become a different person or change things about themselves subconsciously when communicating with people online. Bottom line, they’re scared of letting the other person down with who they really are, unaware that their personalities are most likely the exact same because, as the people who know them can confirm, neither Corpse nor Emma are the type to put on a show in order to be liked. They would rather have no friends because of who they are than have friends and fans of their persona instead of the real them.

And so, while slightly afraid and anxious about this meeting, both of them see it as a relief test to see if the friendship is in fact as real as it’s seemed these past months.

Corpse was the one to choose the location of their meet-up, a location Emma didn’t even think twice about agreeing on, and ever since, they’ve both been counting the hours until their scheduled meeting time.  It’s not about impressing each other, at least that’s what they’re both telling themselves, but rather proving to the other that they’re worthy of their friendship. They might throw snarky and sarcastic comments at one another that others would give a side-eye glance to and question if their friendship is real, but they know the dynamic best and they sure as hell don’t wanna lose it or each other.

Best friends are the ones who roast each other after all - you can’t tell me I’m wrong.

The nervous Corpse fidgets with the insides of his hoodie pockets as he waits outside the café, having arrived ten minutes early because he couldn’t stand being alone with his thoughts in his apartment, judging every fragment of himself twice as harshly as usual. Emma, on the other hand, could barely bring herself to leave her home. She kept retouching her appearance, despite knowing Corpse wouldn’t judge her even if she showed up in pjs. To be fair she contemplated doing just that several times because her hair pissed her off enough to get her discouraged on her outfit altogether but she did eventually talk herself into pulling it together. She already knew she’d be at least five minutes late, but once again, she knew Corpse wouldn’t care.

He’d wait, cause that’s the kind of friend he was. Cause that’s the kind of friend she was for him too.

And boy did it take her less than a second to recognize him. She wasn’t even out of the car when she saw him and knew it was exactly who she was looking for. He too, as if with a sixth sense that registered her presence, shoots his head up from his phone to look up at her, their gazes meeting. There’s a brief moment of close-to-shocked silence, their eyes a bit widened as their brains comprehend that they’re within arm’s reach of one another.

That’s when Emma’s the first to break the bubble of awe as a wide grin spreads across her face and she runs to Corpse, wrapping him in a hug before he’s even realized the distance between the two’s been closed.

“Hey.“ She mumbles, her face hidden in his hoodie due to the height difference.

“H-hey.“ He replies, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her too.

“I was right.“ She says once she pulls away, “You are much cooler face-to-face.“ She pauses for a second, narrowing her eyes, “You’d be even cooler if you bought me coffee though.“

Earning a laugh from him, she’s guided into the café by the arm Corpse wraps around her shoulders, telling her he’s get her a milkshake cause he doesn’t want to see her high on caffeine. Needless to say, they both are, indeed, much cooler to one another IRL.

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[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 26: The Deathday Party

Frank lay there for several moments before the screeching noise finally roused him from the stone cold floor. Shivering with every twitch of hands, he pushed himself into a sitting position and lethargically looked around to see who was being tortured. They turned out to be musical saws, and Frank counted his blessings when he banged his head on something and uttered a curse on the far side of the room, rather than being in the younger Black's condition of landing right next to these still going while no one was playing. Considering this only mild compensation for the way he'd acted in the last room, Frank rolled himself out from under the table just for the movement, as he was sure he was already turning blue from the cold, but stopped in surprise when he saw the papers he'd been holding from Lockhart's office had come along.

Eager and always willing to go find her, he hurried over to Alice's side, who was huddled up next to the door with a very put out expression in place. "Normally I love the cold," she happily told him. "'S my favorite time of year, with the beautiful snow and warm mugs, but I think I can pass on whatever this place is."

"A Deathday Party," Potter informed them, having not landed too far away, rubbing his hands together for warmth as well but looking quite pleased with himself as he quickly snatched up the book. "This is brilliant, can't believe Harry's going to one of these!"

"Must be Nick's, he usually makes a thing out of his," the more tolerable Black for now agreed as he came wondering over, hardly looking as if the cold was bothering him at all.

Potter was already flipping through pages to find his place as the two went near their other friends, while Frank eagerly turned to Alice and explained what he found.

"It's a good thing you weren't made Prefect," she couldn't help but laugh when he was done. "Going through a teacher's desk like that, what's come over you!" She happily teased.

"Don't let my mother hear you saying that," he tragically informed her. "She wouldn't stop going on about it all summer, rest of my life most likely."

Alice's smile lit up the whole room as far as he was concerned, hardly even noticing the puffs of air still visible for the warmth of her smile. "So you finally mention her, and that's what you come up with. We've been dating nearly ten months now, how is that the first time you've mentioned your family to me? I've all but introduced you to mine."

Frank just shrugged without comment for now, and as always Alice happily stepped off the topic with good grace. "Well, our theory of objects going into motion with us seems confirmed then, you keep hold of these papers and maybe when we finally stop spinning through this kids life they might just come back with us all together."

"You think that's possible?" He asked eagerly, looking around again and thinking of several advantages they could have of this. It would be quite something to find magic beyond their years, even books not even published yet, and take them back to the past of all things!

"I don't see why not at this rate, with all we've done," she sighed, looking far less encouraging to the idea, her mind clearly on whose timeline they could erase in all this.

Frank frowned in acknowledgment of that, and quickly kept on track. "Right then, I'll leave them in here when we leave and hopefully they'll go back to him."

"Best hurry up and let me read them then," she agreed, holding out her hand. Potter was already up to the explanation of why Harry was going to this Deathday Party, though neither of them had given much care at all for Filch haranguing another student about filth in the castle.

Lily had paused in surprise of hearing Filch was a Squibb, but apparently she'd been the only one not to be enlightened of this news. Must be a mudblood thing, her mind scathingly informed her as she went back to braiding her hair and pacing restlessly along the black crepe paper nearest the instruments. It wasn't at all pleasant, the sound harming her eardrums so much she hardly caught a word of what Potter was now saying in regards to Harry's own dissent coming down here. It was still better than the rest of the room. That younger Black had moved away from this area at once and had instead located over to the rotting food table with a blanket look of disgust, as well he deserved, she hoped the smell was atrocious. The Marauders were all located more in the center of the room, as if hoping to avoid all repellent things around them, while Alice and Frank stayed near the door and continued whatever they were chatting about. She had no wish to join them this time, she just wanted to be alone.

That wasn't even true though, she wanted Severus. Alice's defense for her had been heartwarming, she'd even grudgingly acknowledge under duress she admired the extreme reaction from Potter in his shout she be apologized to. At the very least though both were just pacing acquaintances in all this, at most Alice was turning into a genuine friend and Potter slightly more tolerable if he could stop bothering to hex the one person missing. She wanted her best friend here for her, to have him be the one to tell Regulus off for that, to offer her to tag-team the little whelp in retaliation for that remark. She could so easily envision what Sev would have done for her in that moment of need of a true friend she was almost smiling despite the circumstances.

"-Prongs, would you bloody pay attention! You'd be done by now if you'd quit gawking at her every other line," Sirius groused beside him.

"Eh?" He muttered, turning to him in surprise, before Sirius was proven right the very next second by his eyes again flickering to her. He loved it when she played with that long red hair, though he preferred it down than the tight braid she was putting it in. He could almost imagine it, that long mane sweeping around them between the pearly figures that should have been surrounding this place, possibly passing through several without a care, eyes only for each other. They'd sway to the tune of this awful music around them, but it wouldn't be so awful with her in his arms, the two keeping each other warm in this freezing room.

"J-J-James! I am b-b-begging you t-t-to-" Peter couldn't even get the full sentence out he was stuttering so bad from the cold, and Remus wasn't even trying, pressing himself so close to Sirius he looked like he was trying to jump right into his arms for any warmth. James released a gusting sigh, yet more visible air puffing out of him, as he grudgingly turned back once more to his lad having a miserable time at this party. He did suppose those two weren't as used to the cold, they didn't have to go out in Quidditch practices during it but instead spent their times up in the warm fires while he and Sirius became accustomed to this. Course on nights during these weathers they all had fur coats, so that wasn't a problem either.

"Oh yes, alright," he huffed as he went back to seeing Peeves taunt Myrtle, that was nothing new. He honestly would have skipped right past the Headless Hunt being such ponces to Nick, as they were every time he invited them. They'd only heard of his Deathday Parties once before, tried to sneak down here last year but been caught, but from what he'd heard inside the room before then had been similar. This bit was turning out to be nothing of interest at all, and his mind was just starting to wander back to clever ways he was sure he could convince Evans to just have one dance with him in here when Harry finally excused himself from this place, and heard it again.

His breath caught in his throat, he swore his friends even stopped shivering in surprise and went for their wands with nothing but a steady hand as they all again strained to hear a thing, but it was just too noisy in this room with that horrid background sound. He wasn't even sure if he'd caught anyone else's attention besides his friends, but he certainly did when he swore at the top of his lungs.

"What do you mean Harry went after that voice!" Sirius agreed while looking faint. "Prongs, I think your kid may well have a death wish!"

James did not disagree, reading on in a complete panic Harry would catch up to whomever this was!

Regulus was quite grateful he didn't, not even he wanted to hear of the murder of a twelve year old, but he did come across something just as intriguing as an icy voice in Hogwarts.

"Chamber of Secrets?" Alice murmured for herself. "I've heard of that, I think my cousin Flora mentioned it, but I hardly listen to a thing she ever says." She already wished she could go back to reading more pages of that strange interview Lockhart had given a man regarding a werewolf attack, it had certainly been better reading material than this tale.

"Me mum might have mentioned it once as well, more like an old wives tale surrounding Hogwarts and when it was founded," Frank agreed, scratching at the back of his neck as he tried to recall.

"Twice in one day, I'm flattered," she happily told him.

"Don't get used to it," he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her to draw her in as her shivers continued to increase.

The two froze, almost literally in these conditions, and it wasn't all for the cold anymore. "What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" She whispered so quietly beside him it was as if she feared whatever, or whomever, had done that were in here now.

Frank had no answer. Of all the things he'd seen the kids in this school do to each other, maiming a cat like that still ranked pretty high on his list.

Even now that the voice had gone, Potter clearly wasn't in any better of a mood. He seemed genuinely distraught at the arrival of someone, only to deliver another insult. No one got a chance to react again to that word being spoken as they were pulled once more from this room.

[crystalk17]

What to Expect vs. Reality/ Lone Survivor

Lone Survivor is a book I have been working on for awhile. I think it’s about time I start positing it on here. Basically Lone Survivor is about:

Human looking people who are at least 80 feet tall appear on earth. Reports are they just appeared. No human knew where they came from, or why they were there. So natural reaction is to retaliate. Since humans could not "share" the plant the human existence is left to only one. One measly boy. From a young age he has been placed into different homes with giants. Each home has either "fostered" him for the money or free access to a family pet. At 14 he is going to his fourth home now. He is being told it's with a " nice" family out in the country. A giant couple with an eldest son.

So just like every home. He moves there, goes to school, oh, and maneuvers living with a family who is not event the same species or size.  Let's see if this family will be different from all the others. He really doubts it.

Let me know your comments!

" Why! Just Why!?" Chesher shoved a handful of dirty and scrapped up clothing into a bookbag that he usually used for school. He didn't even attempt to fold or organize any of the clothing. He knew there was no point in going through any of his items. One of two things was bound to happen.

One, he would keep his already tattered up clothing because the caretakers wouldn't even give him new ones. They would tell him he had enough items already and that he would not be getting anything else, the heads of the family would not want to spoil him. Or there was option two. Option two was that the heads of the family would cast out his old items. Every last one of them, always stating the same thing.

" You don't need reminders about your past. This is a new life." Just the thought of this option made him gag. In reality, both the caretakers and he knew what that really meant. What it really translated to was " Get rid of those rags. You will not look like an outcast. You must fit in with your surroundings and your surroundings were----"

Chesher angrily grabbed a pair of pants he made holes in. He got angry one day and took scissors to them, making perfect in them. Honestly, he did this out of pure rage and defiance, but the style grew on him. He can't remember how many times Miss Garcia scolded him for having these...what did she say...Oh, yeah " Raggedy pieces of junk that just proved he was trash." Yeah, well now he wasn't only keeping them, he was also bringing them with him. Chesher gave the pants one look then bunched them up into a ball. There was only one thing left to do. He plunged the wadded up jeans into the bag and then pressed down on them with all of his strength to make sure they fit.

He marched across the room grabbing any little thing he owned, and then some. He knew he would eventually be back anyway so it wasn't stealing.

He marched over to his dresser contemplating if he should even take the trash with him too. Yeah, that would show them. He stole trash! He grabbed a single chip bag, the smashed alarm clock pieces, and a pencil, tossing them into his bag with very little care, when his eyes caught a shimmering gold object. The light streamed in through the opening of the window just right, so when he tossed the trash into the bag, the gold beam of light struck his eye just enough to catch his attention, breaking him from his trance.

Chesher cautiously approached, looking down as if the object was going to suddenly move if he got to close. Taking several small steps he finally reached his "packed bag" on top of his bed. He grabbed both sides of the bag and ripped them apart, making an opening big enough for his head just so he could reach in. Scrunched up against the side, about to fall to the bottom of the bag, was a golden locket. Before the precious yet tiny item slipped to be lost in the abyss, Chesher grabbed the chain, hoisting it out into the open. He watched as the chain of the locket twirled around in his hand reflecting even more light across his room like a disco ball. Quickly shielding it away from the world, with one hand, he wrapped the chain twice around the opposite hand and allowed it to dangle like it was a bracelet. " They are not getting this."

Tugging on it one more time to make sure it was secure, he proceeded to pack his bag in anger.

"Let's go Cheshire!!" He heard a loud voice from outside of his home. He knew they were not meaning to be so demanding, but that's how all giants were.

" I'm coming!... Plus its Chesher!"

" What?" the loud female voice asked sincerely. It's likely didn't even fully hear him from within the house.

Chesher grabbed his bag, swinging it around one shoulder, marching out of the house he currently was residing in. He knew it was time. " I said!... Nevermind." he knew it was no use to correct her. If she hasn't got his name right after living here off and on for six years then she never would.

" I'm ready." Standing in front of him was the kind, Miss Garcia, the woman who arranged for these families to take him. When he wasn't living with a family he was cared for by many staff, but she was the main one. Out of all the giants..No, he shouldn't call them that, their species are called Zuvain. She was the nicest he has ever come across. She was defiantly no Marry Poppins(TM) but she actually cared for him like a person. At this point, that is all he could ask for.

" Hey! I said I was ready." Chesher corrected the strap on his shoulder before it fell down, then waited patiently for the thirty-something woman to grab him.

Standing in his presence was a woman who was actually pretty short for a Zuvian. Most of their kind toward over his head at a whopping 80 feet, she was only 56 feet. Yes. I know what you are thinking. That is not short. Not at all. Even thinking about it Chesher couldn't tell the difference either. A giant was a giant, but if she stood by a regular-sized Zuvain then you could tell. It was like looking at a 5 foot 4 person standing next to a 3 foot 6 person. Big difference now.

In reality this woman didn't even look like she should work for the government. If Chesher saw this woman on the street he would assume she was an elementary art teacher, with her white shirt that was purposely stained with paint splatter, jeans, and dirty blond hair that was pulled back in a bun.

She finally noticed the tiny Chesher approach her on the surface, which to her it was just a table, but to him it was a sidewalk. Miss. Garcia gave him a kind smile and laid her hand down for him. " Are you sure? You don't have much?"

Chesher didn't even hesitate. By now he was so used to the size difference he didn't even flinch. He walked right on to her palm and sat down, crossing his legs and placing his bag in his lap. " Yeah well I'll be back anyway. I won't need much." In reality he didn't own much to speak of.

The boy instinctively grabbed onto any surface he could. The thought that the surface he was grabbing was soft skin should have freaked him out, but it didn't. He has figured out by now each giant had its own texture of skin and stride. If one thought about it...it was actually very fascinating. Each person he has ever lived with he could probably tell you who they were by the way they carried themselves and walked. Miss Garcia never really watched how fast she went. Chesher would never catch himself standing on her hand because she walked like a jerky eighty-year-old man. He tried standing before and he about fell off her hand because every step made vibrations travel through his body and fling him from side to side.

Miss Garcia looked down at the boy in her hand, instead of watching where she was going.

" Come on Cheshire I am telling you, this family will be the one. I have a really good feeling about them."

" Yeah well you said that about the last family and look where that got me." He looked up noticing the woman looking to the side in embarrassment.

" This one will be different. I promise. There is-"

" Yes. I know. I read the files to Darleen." Chesher rolled his eyes knowing he was getting a glare from the woman for using her first name. He then looked over her hand then back at her in confusion when he felt her suddenly stop her motion and clear her throat. " What?"

" Cheshire. You need to give them a chance. This family was really interested in meeting you."

" Yeah well I didn't meet them, they just adopted me. In human terms that is not allowed."

" Yeah well you are no longer in a human world anymore are you." Chesher looked down at that statement. It literally felt like she stabbed him in the heart just with that one sentence.

" Yeah don't remind me."

" Look, they are a very nice couple. From what the reports said they were not involved with the human war, neither of them were. They also live out in a remote area. Not many people within walking distance, so not too many of our kind to bother you."

" Or scream for help," he mumbled

Miss Garcia rolled her own eyes and continued to walk once more. " They are a couple who has one son at home right now."

" Great siblings. Cause that always worked out." This time Miss Garcia ignored his snarky comments and continued to talk.

" Now I will warn you he is about twenty years old. He graduated, attempted to go to College as you humans called it, but didn't really like it. The reports say he is currently living with parents to find his way in life. You know find a job, get a house, all of that."

" So basically I am going to a house full of adults and one is a drop out party boy. Great."

" Just give them a chance alright."

" Yeah whatever you say." Chesher looked to the side, tired of looking up and having this conversation. She seemed sincere but they had this type of conversation three other times now.

Miss. Garcia crouched down so she was closer to the ground. She then tilted her hand so he could easily slide down, without forcing him. " Look if you have any trouble just call me...alright?"

" Again that's what you said the last few times too." He grabbed his bag and slid off like she was requesting. He knew the procedure by now. He would wait for the giants outside of the building. Miss Garcia would stand off to the side that way if something did happen or they try to walk by she could step in, but he was on his own when meeting them. Chesher threw his bag to the ground and sat down on the concreate. " Great first impression they're ten minutes late" he replied stretching his neck and back a few times, looking up to the sky.

That's when a car that was about the size of the tallest skyscrapers drove up. He would never get used to things like this. When Zuvains started to take over they did not destroy everything. Some items they were intrigued by, they made versions their size like phones and cars.

In a rush, a couple who seemed to be in their early fifties stepped out of the vehicle. The father figured seemed to come out a bit too quickly, causing Chesher to stumbled back a bit, just to make sure he wasn't stepped on. Obviously he was in a hurry. Great, one of those that cared about time and appointments. Probably was the stricter one of the house. He then heard a female voice boom out that was even louder then Miss Garcia's. He didn't even think that was possible. " I told you to leave earlier! This was not how it was suppose to go!"

Chesher was honestly just trying to take in all of this within a few seconds. This was all too much. These two were more expressive then all of his past families combined. He looked from one person to the other in total confusion. That was when the last figure stepped out of the vehicle. Well more like fell out. Chesher assumed the door was stuck or something because it suddenly swung open causing the man inside to fall to the ground, the only thing stopping him was one hand grabbing onto the door and the other extending straight out to catch himself. " We are taking my vehicle next time." Chesher watched as the male stood up to his full height, slamming the door shut to make sure it closed all the way. This was the moment Chesher had to physically take a few steps back. This...well giant was the largest he has ever seen in his life. How could someone who was only twenty years old be this tall? He was a whole foot, maybe even two, taller than his parents. In human terms it was like looking at someone who was 6 foot eight compared to a regular 5 foot 6. This was not what he planned for.

Me, my OC’s and the Sander Sides that appear in my book Mouse of a Life are always open for questions. Please don’t hesitate to ask!!!! We love answering questions!!!! Let me know your opinions on the new story and one shot. 

[doctors-star]

6 &/or 22

send me a prompt

6. hiraeth - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss

“Howdy, Will Williams.”

The dark head flicks abruptly up and round, spine straightening guiltily out of a lazy slouch. As he turns, Will runs a quick hand through his hair to push the longer locks back and then jams his hat on his head, as though likely to be scolded for not wearing it; then he actually notices who the intruder is, and his shoulders relax out of their habitual tension. “Johnny McPherson” he says with a blink-and-miss-it half smile, nudging the bridge of his thin wire-rimmed glasses with the tip of his thumb. “Didn’t hear you coming.”

Johnny spares a moment to be gently, internally amused by this as he slings his leg out of the stirrup and over his horse’s rear, dropping neatly to the ground. He had, after all, ridden over to the man’s campsite at the foot of the rocky outcrop and made no attempt to be quiet about doing so: his horse had huffed and snorted; the hooves had sounded against the beaten earth; Will’s own horse had raised his head from the bag he had been nosing at and whickered at them. And Will, Lord help him, had been too busy watching coyotes to notice a damn thing. How the man ever even found the animals was beyond Johnny; sometimes he reckons a man could set fire to Will Williams’ boots in a darkened room and he’d only move his book closer to the light so’s he could read it better.

He nods in the vague direction of the prairie and whatever had held Will’s attention so thoroughly. “Your coyotes behavin’ today?”

Will smiles again, just as fast as before. All of Danser Town will be damned if they have any idea what, exactly, it is that Will Williams has come out west to do; explanations are offered and eyes glaze over, but Johnny reckons he was told something about animal behaviour and Will hasn’t since told him different. Probably on account of how he won’t listen, or remember, or ever understand why it matters how good or bad an animal acts, but this here is a good enough joke anyhow. “It’s, it’s buffalo, today,” Will corrects gently, pointing at the smudge of brown on the landscape downwind that will, if one focusses, coalesce into a herd of enormous, shaggy creatures with hunched spines and bad-tempered expressions.

Johnny squints under the brim of his hat, and then nods. It is, indeed, buffalo today. “Bought you a present,” he says cheerfully, looping his reins over the same branch as Will’s and turning to his saddlebag.

Will’s eyes narrow slightly in suspicion, but his lips turn up at one corner too, like he’s been handed a riddle he reckons is funny but whose punchline he doesn’t quite have figured yet. “You did?” he says, awful careful.

“Sure,” Johnny says, making the effort to sound slightly wounded that Will would ever expect anything but the kindest friendship from him as he roots in the bag. When he flicks his eye Will’s way, he can see that the smile has advanced into a bitten lip and the dark eyes have narrowed yet further. “I brought you some of Ma Masham’s bread-” he produces a paper-wrapped parcel about the size of two fists and chucks it to Will, watching his eyes light up as he moves to catch it. Ma Masham makes good bread. He allows Will to peel the brown paper back a ways and inhale deeply, and then finishes his sentence. “-’cause she reckons you ain’t eating enough out here and you’re too small.”

Will tips his head back far enough to knock his own hat off and groans. He looks remarkably child-like, sometimes, with his thin frame, and his eyes very dark in his pale face, and his propensity for sitting cross-legged in the dust and watching animals. “I’m a grown man,” he says petulantly. “I’m not getting any taller, now.”

“Well,” Johnny says very reasonably, with a much less reasonable smile, “she reckons you didn’t get fed enough when you weren’t grown, and if you don’t eat it all and grow six inches it’ll all be my fault.” He frowns. “Though I’m damned if I know why.”

Will breaks off a corner of the loaf and sticks it in his mouth. “You’re tryin’ to walk out with Ma Masham’s daughter,” he points out through the mouthful.

“I am not tryin’ to walk out with Ma Masham’s daughter!” Johnny says firmly and indignantly. Will raises an eyebrow. “I’m doing a very good job of walking out with Jody Masham.” Will snorts and eyes him around another lump of bread, awaiting what Finn has taken to calling - usually with a dramatic groan - the inevitable. Jody Masham - lord, there’s a pretty girl. “She’s got eyes like starlight, does Miss Masham,” he sighs, gazing wistfully out over the prairie. “Prettiest girl I ever saw.”

Will mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like this week as he shifts to face Johnny and leans back on his palms. Johnny ignores it.

“Her hair’s softer’n anything,” he says instead, and abruptly his heart is too full; he reckons if the sun doesn’t beat some warm good sense into him he’ll clean float away; and he has to sweep his hat from his head and press it to his chest, face turned up to the light.

“Oh, good lord,” a giggling voice says from somewhere near his knee, but he pays it no mind.

“Gold like the sun and worth twice as much,” he sighs, Jody Masham’s face floating before his eye. What he wouldn’t do to hold her close, breathe her in, press his lips to hers-

Something hits his knee and his surroundings come rushing back to him abruptly. At his foot is one of Will’s gloves; Will himself is angling a particularly severe raised eyebrow his way, but he is also grinning as he squints into the sun behind Johnny. “You come all this way to moon over Jody Masham, or what?”

“What,” Johnny says, collecting himself and turning back to the bag. “You got some cheese from the Wilder ranch, and one of old man German’s good sausages, and I brought you a waterskin but I put some beer in it.” Johnny grins at Will’s expression of surprise. “So. Reckon I earned some mooning.”

“Did the whole town have a, a whip-round for me?” Will says, frowning as he reaches out for the second paper parcel Johnny hands over.

Johnny shrugs, trying to look winning and charming as he leans against the saddle and obscures the still half-full bag. “That’s just Danser hospitality, I guess.”

Will’s gaze flickers over to him suspiciously. “And, and you rode all the way out here, just to fetch me dinner?”

“Sure,” Johnny tries, and knows as soon as he’s said it he’s misstepped; he says sure like that too innocently, always has, and Will’s eyes narrow. “Also I brought you your doctor’s bag just in case-” he says, all too quickly, only getting louder when Will groans. “Might be nothin’,” he wheedles. “Just in case.”

“Do I want to know what you all are going to do?” Will asks, glaring at the leather bag which Johnny guiltily retrieves and places by Will’s very aged, much cleaned boots. “Probably not, huh.”

“Might be nothin’,” Johnny says again, but Will does not look mollified. “Just - would be nice to know you was ready, if it was something. Come on, Doc Dubya.”

Will shoots him an unimpressed look for the nickname. Most folks call him Williams, or Will, but one of the Wilder kids had reckoned Doc Dubya was easier and more fun than sounding out Mister Double-you Williams; it had half stuck, reappearing usually when someone wanted him to come out and doctor for them. “I am not a doctor,” Will says sharply, accent coming out all clipped; all north-eastern, Nova Scotia, old money-sounding, the way it always does when he’s real cross about something. Johnny winces slightly. “This,” Will says, shaking the leather case at him, “is not a doctor’s bag. It’s - it’s an anatomy kit with some old linen scraps for bandages. I’m a naturalist. I can’t - can’t fix you all when you’ve gone and done something stupid.”

Johnny spreads his hands wide and shrugs apologetically. “Ain’t no-one else can do it better,” he points out, running his first knuckle and thumb over his moustache quickly. As nervous tics go, it’s unfortunate; he can only barely pass it off as vanity when he’s playing poker with Diaz, and then only because Diaz is usually too focussed on his own poker face to mind Johnny’s.

Will gives him the stink-eye and he scrambles quickly back onto his horse, patting her dun neck when she dances under him and huffs about the sudden movement. He tries to think of something to say: something that will count as apology and gratitude and, crucially, won’t make Will Williams, the only man even nearly a doctor within a day’s ride of Danser Town, pack up his knapsack and his case and ride for the railway on the other side of the territory and its trains back to Saint John.

Nothing comes to mind.

“Good luck with your buffalo,” Johnny says, offering a hopeful smile.

He doesn’t get more than twenty yards before Will raises his voice. “What time are you all going to be done doing whatever it is I don’t know you’re doing?”

Johnny grins to himself, suffused with warmth and relief. When he twists in the saddle, Will is prodding at the dusty ground with a stick thoughtfully. His brows are downturned in a frown, but there’s a tension to his profile and Johnny reckons he’s doing that thing he does, when the young men of the town are congregated - slightly too many in a space slightly too small - all of ‘em a little drunk and a little loud and making Will more’n a little nervy, but even though he’s tense and awkward and quiet he’s smiling - only, usually with the side of his face that they can’t see. He reckons Will might have forgiven him.

He shrugs. “Nineish, maybe. You’ll get a cut of whatever we don’t earn, doing whatever it is we’re not doing.”

Will huffs in amusement and Johnny doesn’t bother counting over his negatives to figure out if what he’d said made any kind of sense, anyhow. “Alright. I, I won’t see you then.”

Johnny beams. “Will Williams, you’re the sturdiest fella I ever did see.”

And this time, even though he’s already riding away, there’s no mistaking it - “This week!” Will hollers at his retreating back.

--

“Lord,” Finn sighs, chin in one palm and leaning sideways over the table. “I am tired of Corey County. We must be the only territory in the state without a goddamn railway. I ain’t gonna die in some dingey backwater without even a railway.”

Will shoots him a look under his brows but says nothing, just sniffs, pushes his glasses up his nose, and goes on winding clean white linen around Finn’s bicep. Johnny tops up their whisky glasses and pushes one Finn’s way with his fingertips. “Naw, probably not,” he agrees thoughtfully. Finn cocks his head and Johnny spreads his hands in explanation. “Way I see it, you ain’t gonna die horse-rustling, even if you do do something stupid like, say, get yourself all nicely backlit by the ranch lights and then hoot and holler ‘til someone comes and shoots you-”

Will’s head snaps up. “That’s how you got shot?” he says, neither impressed nor gentle.

Finn shrugs awkwardly with only one arm, looking a little embarrassed. “Pascal and Ted were getting hassled.” That about seems to cover it, as far as Finn’s concerned; he drops his chin back into his hand and waits for Johnny to carry on, leaving Will glowering at his ginger curls.

“Alright, well, you ain’t gonna die like that,” Johnny says. “You’re gonna go out doing something truly dumb, like trying to rob a train on your own ‘cause of how you got bored, or something - stands to reason, then, that you ain’t gonna die in a backwater with no railway. You gotta go to the railway, or wait for the railway to come to you, and then you can kick it in some grand old blaze of glory.”

Finn considers this, and then grins. “Thanks, Johnny, you’re a real pal.” Will looks like he’s considering abandoning them to their idiocy; with his almost preternatural sense of when, exactly, he is likely to be denounced as lacking the sense God gave a gopher, Finn twists to beam at Will over his bandage. “Doctor, I’m cured.”

Will glances at him sharply. “Sure,” he mutters. “So long as we never get a railway, and you never go where one is, I can be sure you all will be doing something only reasonably stupid.”

“Y’all know me,” Finn says cheerfully. “Something stupid to be done, I’ll come running.” Will tucks away the end of the bandage and Finn stretches carefully, shaking his head and tidying a few loose curls out of his eyes. Not to be outdone, Johnny works the ribbon out of his own hair and tosses his head like a stallion, shaking shoulder-length, glossy blond waves so that they sparkle in the lamplight. It’s a practised gesture; what, after all, is the point in having well-oiled, lustrous hair the envy of every woman in the state if one doesn’t know how to present it? Even if only for a pair of singularly unimpressed friends.

“You’re not stupid,” Johnny says magnanimously. Must be hard, after all, to be Finn and have hair more inclined to corkscrew outward than lie flat and sleek, or to be Will and have a chin barer than kids half his age.

“No,” Will agrees dryly. “Stupid would be walking out with Jody Masham, making eyes at Peggy West, and swooning every time Anne-Marie Dodds so much as glances your way - all at once.”

Johnny’s jaw drops at this abject betrayal and he gives up on magnanimity. Will doesn’t deserve good facial hair. Finn cackles in delight. “Miss Dodds an’ all?” he laughs. “Peggy West’s best friend - Johnny, you’re gonna wind up with a hole in your head or a ring on your finger if you ain’t careful.”

He snaps his mouth shut and rises manfully above such comments. What do they know, anyway - Peggy West won’t shoot him, and with a bit of luck she’ll keep her pa from doing it either. Sure, she and Anne-Marie are pretty girls, but they’ve made his role plenty clear: he’s to court without expectation, so’s they can avoid courters with expectations. Jody knows; knows, too, about Cathy in the bigger town to the east whom he rides out to see sometimes, and they’re all content as can be. Let Will and Finn say what they like - Johnny walks out with the prettiest girls in the territory, and lord are they pretty.

“We’ve lost him,” Finn says conspiratorially.

Their hair - the clothes - they’re so delicate yet firm - he longs to feel their curves beneath his palms-

“Totally gone,” Will agrees.

Johnny sprawls over the table, chin in one hand. “Girls,” he sighs, and manages no more.

Will rolls his eyes and Finn nudges him carefully with his injured elbow. “That could be you,” he says, “if you’d only look helpless and lonely in eyesight of a lady.”

Will looks at Johnny with deep apprehension. “If it’ll do that, Johnny can keep ‘em.”

“Is there a name for it?” Johnny asks the ceiling philosophically. Ideally, they’d be out of doors and staring at the desert stars; as it is, there’s only peeling paper and discoloured rafters of which to demand explanations. It’ll do. “For wanting so badly to kiss a person, to be with them - so much you burn up with it?”

“Lust,” Will, the good little Methodist says.

“The clap,” Finn says brightly.

Johnny gives them both the stink eye and Finn laughs; Will just ducks his head in a fruitless attempt to hide his bright, broad grin. “Aw, y’all are the worst.”

It’s quiet for a minute as they drink their whisky and relax into the hard wooden seats as best they can. Will’s rooms above the saloon are not awful large, and not at all comfortable, but they don’t cost him much and no-one asks about the occasional bloodied shirt on his late-night visitors. Danser Town isn’t large enough for the general populace not to know that the band of young men with money to spend and no discernable employment are likely up to no good, but no-one asks questions and no-one tells lies and it all shakes out in the end. But - Will’s from out east, and he went to college, and his words have a touch of money about them sometimes. What’s he doing out here, watching buffalo?

Finn must be having the same thought, because he shifts awkwardly before speaking. “Say, Will, why not get some place nicer than this? Get you a ranch, or something.”

Will snorts. “What would I do with a claim? I’m no farmer. Besides, I can’t afford a whole house to myself.”

“Why not?” Finn presses. “Ain’t you one of them rich Yanks?”

Johnny winces a little at the blunt question. Will tips his head on side. “Not - really,” he says. “First - I’m Canadian. Second, all I have is here.”

“But you went to college,” Johnny finds himself saying.

“Sure,” Will says, folding his long, pale fingers into an awkward knot. His shoulders have tensed up around his ears again; Finn notices and bumps their arms carefully together. “But - my folks paid for that. And I left. So.”

It sounds kinda like Will doesn’t miss ‘em. “You ever want to go back?” Finn asks.

Will makes a face. “No. I - I like it here.”

Johnny nods, filled with some sort of strange pride and satisfaction. Will can stay, and be happy here - that suits. “I don’t,” Finn says brightly.

“Why’re you still here, then?” Johnny can’t help asking. Finn’s only been here six months or so and he’d lived in half the states west of Georgia before that; the man seems to move like his feet are on fire. So, either he’s got better at horse rustling in Danser and not been caught so fast, or it’s something else.

Finn shrugs. “Y’all won’t come with me,” he says simply, like it ain’t nothing to be so openly, overtly fond of another person. Will looks like he might fall off his chair in surprise at just hearing him say it. Finn sighs and stretches his legs out before him, crossed at the ankle. “I like moving,” he explains, “but y’all don’t. I don’t wanna stop, but I don’t want - I want to go, but I don’t want to leave.” He spreads his hands as if that ought to pretty much cover it.

“Why do you like travelling so much?” Will says after a quick slug of his drink. He looks a bit unsteady, although if that’s due to the whisky or Finn being kind Johnny couldn’t say.

Finn shrugs. “Feels sometimes like I’m looking for somewhere, you know? Somewhere I never been, but I’m gonna know it when I get there. Where it all makes some kind of sense. Is there-” Finn huffs a laugh and looks at Johnny. “Is there a word for that - sickening after a place you never seen, but you know it’s easy, like when you were a kid?”

Johnny raises his glass to him with half a smile. He’s got no joke for that.

Will blinks, tilts his head like a bird, and then opens his mouth and says something strange-sounding and smooth.

Finn and Johnny blink at him in polite incomprehension.

“My, my mother’s folks were from Ontario, but before, before that Wales,” he explains. “Hiraeth. It means - well, what you said.”

“Huh,” Finn says. Then grins. “Well, now I don’t feel half so special and one-of-a-kind.”

“Oh,” Will says, sounding apologetic, “I didn’t-”

“Lord, I hope there’s only one man like you, Finn Holden,” Johnny interrupts with a grin. “You’re already too much to handle.”

“Aw,” Finn says, slinging his wounded arm gently around Will’s narrow shoulders and squeezing gently until the tension relaxes out of him once more. “Y’all love me, don’tcha?”

Will smiles - genuine, but a little shy. Johnny feels his own face form an answering - and disgustingly fond - smile. “Send us to an early grave though it may,” he says, winking at Will and raising his glass to them all.

[terrm9]

CHAPTER 4 - The Talk

Ethan woke up from yet another nightmare, cold sweat sending shivers down his spine. Ever since Chiara's accident, the nightmares kept creeping back into his sleep, making it almost impossible to actually rest. It was 5 AM but since he knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, he decided to workout a little bit in hospital's gym and use gym's shower while he was at it. He missed the comfort of his own apartment, but couldn't stand the idea of going home with no one watching over Chiara here at the hospital. So he kept sleeping in his office, using gym's shower and eating whatever a vending machine had to offer at the moment. He let out a humorless laugh when he remembered Naveen's olden words that Ethan would move into the hospital one day. This situation was not what he had in mind back then.

After running on a treadmill for 40 minutes, trying to run away from the fear that consumed every cell of his body, fear that he would never hear Chiara's laugh again, refreshing shower and short conversation with an old lady that couldn't find Cardiology, he walked in into the diagnostic office, June and Baz already inside, going through a file together.

"What do we have there?" Ethan asked as he put some other files on the desk.

"Woman, 60 years old, sharp chest pain, fever, troubles when swallowing. She was admitted an hour ago."

"Pericartidis?" Ethan asked without even sitting down to go through the file.

"No, the ultrasound already ruled that one out. I already ordered blood test," June replied, trying to sound neutral, but the tension between her and Ethan was still obvious, leaving Baz in rather uncomfortable position.

"Okay, I'll go talk to her," Ethan nodded and left the office.

He didn't mind talking to his patients, quite opposite, but he knew Chiara was much better at it and that it would be her talking to the patient now, if only she was there. He entered the patient's room still deep in his thoughts and without thinking about it twice - he did it all the time after all - greeted the woman lying on the bed without even looking at her.

"Hello, I am Dr. Ramsey and I'll be taking care of you while you are here, Mrs.-"

He stopped abruptly, frowning at the name written on the chart. He had to blink several times to make sure that he is reading it right, that his sleep-deprived mind is not playing tricks on him and only then he looked at the woman lying in front of him. His eyes widened at the realization, the absurdity of situation getting down on him. He was shocked and surprised and so full of anger at the same time, but finally he found his ability to stay calm and distant and with the flat voice, he simply asked: "What are you doing here?"

"I was admitted with chest pain and fever."

"That much I know. I am asking what are you doing here, in Edenbrook of all the places? There are plenty of hospitals that would treat you."

"Ethan please. We need to talk."

"No we don't."

"Ethan, listen to me-"

"I said no."

Ethan tried his hardest to stay calm, to be the doctor and nothing but the doctor, but the anger built in his body was suddenly stronger than any other feeling and he felt himself losing it all. The next second, he was almost shouting.

"How dare you to use his name? My name? You left us 26 years ago and now you are telling me that I need to listen to you? I've seen my father crying himself to sleep for months, because he couldn't imagine his life without you. And then, after I made sure that he was asleep and safe, I cried myself to sleep because I has no idea what did I do wrong for you to leave us. You left your child, you left a little boy without any sort of explanation. I always tried so hard to be a good son, I worked hard at school, I cooked with dad and helped you garden, I never asked for much and still you decided that I wasn't good enough for you to stick with me and left like a coward! Dad might have forgiven you, but I never will. I was a child. A child! I needed a home, I needed love and security and all I ever got was wrecked father and feelings of self-hatred. Because no matter how hard I tried, my own mother left me without goodbye. I never trust anyone, because how could I? I push people away before they can push me away. I am not able to love someone because you made me feel like love didn't exist."

"Ethan, please-" 

"Don't please me here. I don't give a single damn about what you have to say. For 25 years I felt unworthy of love, I felt like a failure, I felt like everyone will leave me eventually. And when finally someone comes and for the first time in all those years makes me feel like I might be worth of their love, I am not able to love them back because I fucking forgot what love felt like. And now she could die any second-"

He stopped, realizing at his outburst wasn't leading to some point, ashamed of himself for even letting the emotions out. He could do better. They stared at each other for a long time, neither of them breaking the silence that filled the room. He tried to see some familiarity in her eyes, he tried to remember the best memory from his childhood that could maybe, just maybe make everything feel a little bit better, but all he could recall was the pain in his father's eyes and the empty feeling in his chest.

"I am sorry, Ethan. I am truly and honestly sorry." Mrs. Ramsey broke the silence after all.

"Save it for someone who cares. I'll get you another doctor."

Without any other word, he left the room. He felt the need to punch something rise in him, the need so strong that he locked the door of the nearest supply closet and smashed the wall so hard that some of the plastering fell off. And then again and again, Ethan kept hitting the wall with intensity that could cause serious injuries if it was a person instead of a wall. His knuckles started to bleed and it was enough for him to calm his own breathing, collect himself and get out of the tiny space.

On his way to office, he decided to invite Naveen over for dinner, the strong urge to finally share his feelings with someone supporting the decision. Just as he found Naveen's name on contact list and was about to dial, he spotted group of interns chatting near the nurses' station, the last sentence catching his attention.

"You think they'll make another competetion for interns to get the spot when she dies?"

He stopped in his tracks and with gritted teeth listened what they had to say next.

"I don't know," the tall, blonde guy shrugged, "but I am definitely not willing to sleep with Ramsey to win."

"What do you mean?"

"Well it's pretty obvious, isn't it? Everyone knows that Ray fucked Ramsey to get the spot in diagnostics team. She is average doctor, at best, so I guess she must be outstanding in bed."

Ethan's fists clenched at his side and without thinking, he moved forward to throw a fist into the asshole's face. However, before actually moving, he was stopped once again, staring wide eyed at the scene unfolding in front of him. Dr. Varma, apparently hearing the conversation too, stepped in front of the blonde intern and with blades in her eyes, she asked: "What did you say?"

"I...ugh... nothing! What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, asshole. At least stand up for what you said."

Ethan could see that the boy was shocked and maybe even embarassed, but after few seconds he grinned and repeated what he said earlier. "So you're saying that it's not true? That Dr. Ray slept with Dr. Ramsey to get the spot?"

"What I am saying is," she hissed through gritted teeth, "if I ever hear you talking about Dr. Ray this way, I will personally fuck whomever it takes to have you kicked out of this hospital. Even if it's Banerji himself."

Despite feeling so much anger, Ethan had to chuckle at the idea of Naveen being seduced by woman that charming and that scary. Heck, looking at the scene, even he was terrified of the young doctor. Jackie turned on her high heels and started to walk away when she noticed Ethan staring at her. She grinned, waved at him and disappeard in the patient's room.

~

Being in his own apartment didn't bring him half as much comfort as he thought it would. He enjoyed cooking in his own kitchen, using his own shower, listening to piano compound rolling peacefully from his phonograph, filling the whole apartment with soft tunes. The evening could be perfect if not for his frequent need to check his phone in case something changed with Chiara. Exactly at 7 PM, soft knock on his door interrupted him while setting the table.

"Naveen, hi. Thank you for coming."

Dr. Banerji smiled softly as he entered the apartment, handing a bottle of red wine to Ethan.

"I am glad to be here. I missed talking to you."

Ethan couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed at Naveen's word, realizing very well that for the past few weeks, he didn't do much to preserve their friendship.

"I'm just surprised you are not spending another night in the hospital," Naveen added.

"You've noticed."

"Of course I have. So, what made you change your mind?"

"Rafael Aveiro is back in Boston for three days and he asked me if he could stay with Chiara tonight. It puts my mind in ease knowing that someone is by her side."

There was no point in lying. Naveen could see through Ethan and he would know he was not telling the truth. They sat down and started to eat in silence, Ethan forcing himself to take at least few bites of the food he made.

"I am sorry for being so distant Naveen," Ethan broke the silence with statement, trying to put all the sincerity into his words.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I understand that life is hard on you right now. I heard from Dr. Hirata that your mother is in hospital?"

With a long sigh, Ethan put the fork down, knowing that he's done with eating. After short hesitation, he nodded and told Naveen everything, from being angry at June for wanting to replace Chiara to meeting his mother and spilling his heart to her before he could stop.

"It seems to me, Ethan, and don't get angry now, that you haven't made your peace with the situation at all."

"Which situation?"

"Your mother leaving. Your mother reaching back. Neither of them."

There was a long silence as Ethan let Naveen's work sink in. When he spoke again, his voice was almost whisper.

"I can't make my peace. She ruined me."

"You are not ruined, Ethan."

"Oh but I am. I push people away because I am scared of them leaving. I despise love, because I am scared of feeling something so transient, so conditional. It all happened because of her and it keeps ruining my life, now more than ever."

"I take it you are not talking solely about your mother now?"

Ethan looked at his mentor, not knowing what to do. Telling him the truth about Chiara would mean confessing that there is the truth to reveal in the first place. That there are feelings he is trying to hide even from himself. And what if Naveen would judge him for falling for his intern, his protége? But again, Naveen observed and analyzed people all his life, he probably knew already.

"It's Chiara. I care for the woman so much it hurts me physically sometimes. She is not only brilliant doctor, she is such extraordinary person I just keep wondering how does one like her even exist. And I know I am hurting her by pushing her away, but it's the only right way."

Naveen was smiling knowingly at Ethan and at the same time, his heart was breaking at the sight in front of him.

"And what makes you think so?"

"Because I am not able to love, Naveen and she deserves someone who will love her. And even if she thinks she loves me, the moment one of her conditions for loving me abolish, she'll stop feeling that way."

"You keep avoiding unconditional love like a plague, but it actually exists, Ethan. Listen to me now and listen very carefully. Chiara always stuck with you, even when you were very persistent in pushing her away. When she found out about my illness and kept it hidden from her friends even though they share everything. That's love. When she spent her free time with you, trying to diagnose me, with you being, well, an asshole. That's love. When you left the hospital and shut yourself off at the times she needed you most and she still found her way to talk to you and make sure you're okay. That's love. When she found the cure for me, but didn't tell you until she was absolutely sure, because she wanted to save you a heartbreak in case she wasn't right? When you accepted your position in Edenbrook back without ever telling her and she was happy for you? When you left to Brazil and didn't talk to her for two months even though you knew it hurt her? Oh, my boy, even if she had any conditions for loving you, you made sure to ruin every single one of them and still, she did never hesitate to show you she cares. What conditions for loving her do you have? Being a brilliant doctor? Showing her affection? Pushing you to be better? All the things she did until the accident? Because right now, she offers you none of those things and yet, look at yourself, sleeping in the hospital every night to make sure she is okay. Talking to her daily, hoping it could get her brain started. Never leaving her side for the three days after the surgery. Hell, you didn't even sleep in the hospital for me!" Naveen laughed before taking a sip of his wine and continuing. "What you are doing is unconditional, Ethan boy. It's the very same unconditional love which existence you recant so much. And don't give me this incredulous look now. I remember very clearly that one call I received from you when you were in Brazil."

"Which call?"

"The one that came in the middle of the night. You were obviously very drunk and you were crying. I never heard you cry before, but even through the phone I could hear the sobs escaping you very clearly. And you just kept repeating that you loved her, that you loved her and had to leave because you loved her. That you even wrote her 'a damn poem'. Not once have you mentioned who "she" is, but I am not that old or stupid."

Horror run through Ethan's face as he recalled blurred memories of the night. He was indeed very drunk and the damn poem was the proof that Naveen was telling the truth, but Ethan didn't remember anything about the call.

Everything Naveen has said was slowly settling in and the voice in his head, now more clear than ever, kept repeating the new truth.

I love her.

Fuck, I really love the woman.

Instead of admitting it to Naveen, he frowned and said: "Even if it was true, it doesn't matter. I am her mentor, her boss and so there's no way we could work as a couple."

Naveen laughed again, Ethan's mind and his morals never stopping to amaze him.

"Oh please. You wouldn't be first nor the last to maintain such relationship. You two kids love each other already and it doesn't affect your work anyhow, so what difference would it make if you allowed yourselves to actually be happy? Sure, Chiara's reputation could take a hit, but I think the two of you would be able not to make it too public until she is an attending, wouldn't you? It's not illegal."

"But it is immoral. Unethical."

"Look, Ethan, you can be ethical and wretched, or you can change the way your morals work and actually find happiness, after all those years."

~

Nine days after his dinner with Naveen, Dr. Ramsey decided to spend his lunch break in Chiara's room, telling her about the newest patient. He stood by the window, looking at the street below him, hands in his pocket as he talked about the man whose nose bleeding was so extensive it made him faint. When he got to the ideas about what could cause such odd bleeding, the device monitoring Chiara's brain activity started to beep somehow more frequently. Ethan didn't pay any attention to it - it happened on daily basis now, showing that her brain actually still works, only not enough for her to wake up just yet.

"...we ruled the brain tumor out but it could-"

"Hurts.... head.... hurts.... hurts."

He turned around and in two steps got back to Chiara's bed, his wide eyes showing broad spectrum of emotions, from disbelief to relief to fear to shock. He leaned over Chiara so that he could see and hear everything perfectly, and really, she was trying to open her eyes while wincing painfully.

"Shh, it's okay, I am here. I am right here. Let me just page others," Ethan put his doctor expression on and with trembling fingers paged other doctors.

"...head hurts," Chiara let out, her words so silent he almost didn't hear.

"Does it hurt when you try to open your eyes?"

She nodded.

"Okay, keep them closed. Does it hurt when you are talking to me?"

"My throat... sore.." He took her hand between his own and started to draw soothing circles on her skin with his thumb.

"It's okay, everything's okay. Your eyes need to adjust to the light. Can you tell me what your name is?"

"Chiara... R...Ray."

"Wonderful. Do you remember what your job is?"

"I - a doc... doctor."

"You are doing great, Chiara. Keep going. Could you try to open your eyes now?"

Chiara's eyelids fluttered and she had to blink several times, but she managed to keep her eyes open for a while.

"Perfect. Now, can you tell who I am? Do you remember me?"

Ethan's heart skipped a beat at her words and all he wanted to do was to take her into his arms and hold her, tell her how much he missed her and how sorry he was, but the moment was interrupted by Baz, June and Harper Emery entering the room, their expressions shocked.

She even managed to create a small smile before saying: " Ethan Ramsey. Unforgettable."

"When did she wake up?"

"Four minutes ago. No memory loss."

"Where does it hurt, Chiara?" It was Dr. Emery, already poking into one of Chiara's legs. "Can you feel this?"

"Yes, but the legs hurt. And head. And my back. It all hurts so much."

Harper looked at Ethan and nodded. "No paralysis."

"It's natural for your body to hurt now, Chiara. We will run all the tests we can and monitor your functions to make sure you'll heal properly. Do you recall what happened?"

"Not really," Chiara said, closing her eyes again, not being able to bear so much light. "I remember driving... driving home and that's it."

"Okay, you need to rest," June stepped into the discussion. "Keep your eyes closed, don't move, rest. We'll come with a treatment and recovery plan for you soon."

Chiara nodded and all the doctors started to leave the room. As he was leaving, Ethan squeezed Chiara's hand and whispered: "I'll be here as soon as I can."

~

As evening fell over the city of Boston, Chiara Ray finally didn't feel like her head would explode everytime she opened her eyes. She was now laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for some other doctor to come and examine her. When the door opened, she didn't even have to look to know who entered the room, his scent so unique she would recognize it anywhere.

"Hey," she smiled softly. "Another test?"

"I came to check how you were doing."

"I need to know if my friends are okay. Someone should finally talk to me."

Everytime she asked about her friends, the girls sitting in the car that night, she would be stopped and told to rest. At first, she was so confused and in so much pain it didn't really startle her, but now, feeling much better, not knowing was torturing her.

"They are all alright. You were the only one seriously injured."

"Can I see them?"

"Not now, no. You have to take this slowly. They'll come to see you tomorrow. Right now, you really need to rest."

"From what you told me, I've been resting for the last seven weeks."

"This is not the right time for jokes, Chiara. It's a miracle you are alive and this well at the moment and I am speaking as someone who doesn't believe in miracles. It will cost you a lot of strenght and dedication to heal. You basically need to learn to walk again. And for that, you need to rest."

She turned at him, finally taking a good look at him, observing every detail.

"Look who's talking. What about you? Which musketeer are you audiencing for with that beard and those hair? Athos?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You don't know The Three Musketeers?"

"No."

Even though she still felt physically miserable, she couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at him.

"Okay, well you could also play Sirius Black after he ran away from Azkaban."

"Who again?"

"Don't tell me you don't know Harry Potter."

Ethan sat down on the chair next to her bed and shrugged.

"I don't, obviously."

"God, you're hopeless. So, what is it going on in your life that made you look like this?" 

She knew something was going on, even if she didn't pay attention on his appearence, his eyes screamed that he was in pain.

"Nothing serious. Just a lot of work. It's not important now. What is important is you getting better, that's why you are not allowed questions today. Don't put too much pressure on yourself already."

"Come closer," she told him softly and he leaned over her, looking straight into her eyes. She reached for his hair, wincing with pain as she lifted her hand.

"Closer," she repeated and he got closer, so close that he could see how her green eyes turn into colour of rosin around her pupils. His breath got stuck in his throat, because damn, even now she was the most intriguing woman he's ever laid his eyes on.

"Ramsey, is this a gray hair I see here?" she whispered and chuckled.

Ethan closed his eyes, trying his hardest to maintain serious, professional face, but hearing her chuckle made him let out soft laugh too.

"You are really stepping over the line here, Rookie."

"Of course I am. Seriously though, Ethan. What is going on? You look even worse than I do and that's almost impossible at the moment."

Her voice was caring and he couldn't bring himself to pull away from her. But he had to, after all, so he sat down back on his chair, holding her hand from there.

"It's really nothing Chiara, just work. I am down to a member of my team after all, remember?"

She knew he was hiding something enormous, but it was too soon to push him into telling her. She would have plenty of time for that.

He wanted to tell her everything and he knew she sensed his lies. But at this time, her recovery was the most important thing to him and he didn't want to put that at risk. He knew he would have plenty of time to tell her everything.

[skzsauce01]

In Fair Verona︱Chapter 8

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary.

Warning: violent imagery

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

Prepare to be baited. Apologies in advance.

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST︱chapter list

A plague o’ both your houses! I am sped.

The weather matches his mood — cold, gray, sad. The rain suddenly came in between third and fourth period, and the hallways are still covered in watery footprints. People linger around after school, waiting for their rides or asking for them. He notices a few boys loaning their girlfriends their sweaters, and he desperately wishes he was one of them. Instead, he takes his textbook out from his locker and heads to the auditorium for rehearsal.

He drops off his belongings in the classroom, which is packed wall to wall. He has to nudge several people out of the way when his “Excuse me’s” aren’t heard. He doesn’t see you anywhere and assumes you’ve escaped to the dressing room, where it is sure to be less crowded. Hyunjin isn't around though, so maybe you’re with him.

He hopes not.

When rehearsal begins, you wait on stage right as usual. Your hair is damp, and you have Hyunjin’s jacket draped around your shoulders to prevent your costume from getting wet. You stand next to Hyunjin and talk about something excitedly. Jisung doesn’t let the soft looks from Hyunjin escape his notice. When you’re finally alone, he goes over to you.

“Didn’t you say you would give his sweater back?” he says, far more accusing than teasing. You jump a bit at his sharp tone, and he apologizes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Hey,” you cautiously greet. “Rough day?”

He nods. “The rain ruined my mood. Sunny days are much better.”

“I like the rain. I think it’s nice.” You absentmindedly ran your fingers across the drawstring of the hood, and he knows it’s not the weather that you only like.

“So, the sweater?”

The look of guilt is clear on your face. “I wore it to school, and then it started raining, so I decided to keep it for a little longer.”

Would you do the same if Jisung were the one to let you borrow his? He thinks he already knows the answer, but he pulls off his hoodie and holds out to you anyway.

“You can have mine.”

With no hesitation, you reply, “I couldn’t, but thank you for the offer.”

“Why not?” He wants to hear you say it. He prods you again. “Why not? Is there something wrong with mine? What’s wrong with mine?”

“Nothing!” you indignantly say. You look away and start fiddling with your earring. “I just—”

A red hot rage floods his system, and he thrusts his hoodie forward. “Then give Hyunjin’s sweater back and take mine!” he hisses.

You flinch and take a step back. “I wouldn’t be comfortable borrowing yours. I don’t know you well enough to feel okay with it.” The last part comes out in a whisper.

“No, I get it.” He forcibly tugs it over his head and runs a hand through his mussed up hair. “I get it. I get what you mean,” he repeats more calmly, though it’s more to convince himself than you.

You don’t look like you buy his act, but you slowly nod anyway. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“No no,” he shakily laughs. He pastes on a bright smile so wide that he’s afraid his face might crack. “I’m not hurt at all.”

You try to give him a smile back, but it wavers before disappearing altogether. “I gotta talk to Yuna,” you point to the girl playing Nurse. “Bye.”

Jisung goes over to Changbin, who looks like he’s having the time of his life working on math problems. “Hey, Changbin.”

“Hm?” he mumbles, not looking up.

“I’m gonna go to the restroom after the next blackout.”

“Okay.”

Until then, Jisung is stuck. You chat with Yuna, but even he can tell that you’re not into it. Your eyes occasionally wander to the general area where Jisung is. It’s not the shy, sneaking peeks he wishes they are though; they’re more like concerning, “he’s not going to hurt me, right?” glances. He wants to apologize, but what does he apologize for? For scaring you? For being rude? For falling in love with you when you don’t care? All of the above?

He finds himself walking back to you. He robotically taps your shoulder while you’re in the middle of a sentence, and you jump.

“Can we talk?” he says.

You look at Yuna, who retreats a short distance away. You face Jisung and stand directly in front of him. Your voice trembles when you say, “I have to be on stage soon. What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he blurts out. “I didn’t mean any of that. That wasn’t me back there, and I didn’t mean—”

The lights go out, and Jisung loudly swears as he remembers that he has to help set up. He rushes on stage with Changbin and haphazardly aligns the set pieces. Then he makes his way back to finish his apology. To his misfortune, Hyunjin beat him to you and is asking about his performance in the earlier scene.

“Y/N,” Jisung calls. When you’re looking back at him with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, he continues with, “I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean to hurt you with any of that.”

You tightly reply, “It’s fine,” and end it there. Jisung opens his mouth to protest, but you clearly don’t want to continue the short lived chat.

In a more relaxed tone, you say to Hyunjin, “See you at dinner?” You shrug off his jacket and hand it to him. Jisung doesn’t miss the way his fingers “accidentally” brush against yours. Without waiting for an answer, you stride onto stage, your still damp hair hanging down your back.

Hyunjin has a dopey grin on his face, and he clutches his own sweater like he’s holding the only life preserver on a sinking boat. Jisung wants to smack him until he sees stars, but he heads to the restroom like he told Changbin he would.

There’s someone inside, and Jisung has to wash his hands until they’re scrubbed raw before the person leaves. Once he hears the door swing shut and Jisung’s certain he’s far away, he lets loose a scream worthy of a horror film. It echoes against the tiled floors and walls, and he unleashes a string of curses after. His throat feels like it’s been cut with knives, and he pants as he rests his palms against the edge of the sink.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

This is all your fault.

She’s supposed to be mine.

I hope you get run over by a semi truck.

I hope the lights fall from the batons and land on your head.

I hope your heart stops.

I hope you die.

Jisung stays in the restroom for a while longer to pull himself together. He waits until his breathing returns to a more normal rate and until he stops trembling. He wants to shatter the mirror into a million pieces, so he clasps his hands together. In another lifetime, it would have been your hand in his.

But Hwang Hyunjin had to exist in this one.

He heads back to the auditorium, taking careful steps in front of him. He doesn’t want to be around anyone, so he tucks himself into the corner of the stage next to the fly rail. The person manning the fly rail looks surprised at the sudden intrusion, but Jisung ignores it. At least he can’t see the front of the stage where the actors are anymore.

When dinner rolls around, Jisung is unfortunately forced to eat inside the classroom since he has no more money for convenience store food. You and Hyunjin share a table together with two other actors, while Jisung sits with Seungmin, who also brought his own dinner. Seungmin makes small talk, and Jisung gives one word replies. He’s too busy trying to eavesdrop on your conversation and watching you from the corner of his eye. Your back faces him, so he can only see the movement of your head. He bitterly notes that you’re wearing Hyunjin’s jacket now and that you’re laughing at his lame attempts at jokes.

“You’re not hungry yet?” Seungmin asks as he gestures to Jisung’s untouched but fully cooked ramen.

Jisung glances down and picks up his disposable chopsticks. “Oh, I forgot.”

“You okay? Changbin mentioned that you were kind of out of it today.”

“It’s the rain. I hate rain.” He eats a mouthful of noodles and angrily chews on it. “It is awful, and it makes everything wet and gloomy, and it always makes me freaking mad for no reason. Screw. The. Rain.”

Seungmin laughs at what he thinks is Jisung being overdramatic. “Alright, I got it. The rain is evil, and you hate it.”

“Exactly.”

You gasp at something on your phone and excitedly tap on Hyunjin’s arm. A splotch of pink blooms on Hyunjin’s face, and he looks at your screen. He congratulates you for getting an A on your exam and offers to take you out to FroYoZen to celebrate.

“It’s too cold for that, “ you goodnaturedly say. You tilt your head in his direction and look up at him. “Maybe when the weather clears up.”

Jisung grips his wooden utensils and continually shovels ramen into his mouth. Would it be odd if he suddenly snapped his chopsticks in half? How can you betray him twice by getting yogurt with Hyunjin? The first time he can forgive since that was a task for the play, but frozen yogurt is supposed to be his thing with you.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin looks pleased with his situation, and your conversation switches to a debate about frozen yogurt versus ice cream. Jisung almost chokes on his meal when he learns that you and Hyunjin shared your yogurts together last time.

“Jisung? You okay?”

Jisung’s cheeks are stuffed like a squirrel’s, and he’s breathing hard. He’s finally aware of how absurd he looks and the concern on Seungmin’s face. He chews and chews until he’s able to swallow.

“I thought you were choking,” Seungmin sighs in relief. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”

Is he really though?

The rest of rehearsal is hazy, and Jisung can only remember the stabbing in his heart when you and Hyunjin stage kiss. He can’t see it since he’s tucked in his little corner, but he knows the lines leading up to both kisses like the back of his hand. It hurts, and the invisible knife cuts deeper and deeper.

During tech notes, Jisung gets lightly chastised for taking bathroom breaks so often during performances, but everyone overall seems pleased with his efforts. There’s a reminder from the tech director that the preview for the play is tomorrow after school and to wear all black.

“When do we get our shirts?” Felix asks.

Ah, yes. The cast and crew shirt that Jisung paid for because he had no real choice and because he wanted to share one article of clothing with you. If he’s lucky, you and him will wear the shirts on the same day, and it will almost be like a couple’s matching outfit.

“They should be here by tomorrow, but come in all black anyway.”

“Do we get a refund if they don’t come in time?” the freshman jokingly says.

There’s a bit of a laugh from Mr. Gi. Then he deadpans, “No.”

After they repaint and respike the stage floor, the tech crew is dismissed for the night, and Jisung goes to the green room for his belongings. You’re still receiving extra notes from the director, so he mills around outside, waiting for you to come out. He wants to apologize again for his outburst earlier since he knows you didn’t truly accept his previous apology. He needs you to know that he still loves you.

As actors start filing out, Jisung pretends to be immensely interested in the tech crew lists for all the upcoming shows. You come out of the classroom with your books clutched to your chest and Hyunjin on your heels. Jisung mouths a curse.

“Hey, Y/N?” he says.

You stop, and your shoulders are beginning to rise. You can’t even look at him; your eyes are directed at the yellow wall behind him. The deer-in-the-headlights expression is back, and Hyunjin takes notice.

“Sorry, we gotta go,” he cuts in. He wraps a protective arm around you, and while you initially jump at the gesture, you eventually sink into him.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he snaps. “I just need one minute with Y/N.” To you, he pleads, “Please.”

“I have to go, Jisung. Maybe tomorrow,” you quietly answer.

Hyunjin leads you away, shooting him a warning glare. Jisung glowers back, but Hyunjin’s not looking anymore since he’s whispering something to you. You shake your head, and Jisung can make out the words, “Everything’s fine.” The door to the parking lot shuts with a heavy thud, and Jisung stops wishing death upon Hyunjin to run out to follow you.

It’s raining hard, and he can just make out your silhouettes from the car headlight beams. He pulls his hood over his head and strides toward the two of you. Hyunjin poorly shields you from the rain with his jacket while you duck under the trees to avoid getting your books wet. To Jisung’s astonishment, you don’t leave Hyunjin’s side at all. He freezes in his tracks as he sees you getting into the passenger seat of a car he doesn’t recognize. Hyunjin walks around and gets into the driver’s seat.

What. On. Earth.

The car pulls out of the parking lot, and Jisung is left standing in the middle of the drop off zone. A car honks at him, and he loudly swears at them, earning looks from the group of people nearby. He shouts at them to mind their own business before stomping to his car. As he drives home, there’s a clap of thunder, and a flash of lightning follows soon after.

The weather matches his mood — cold, gray, stormy.

~ ad.gray

A/N: Happy birthday to Han and Felix!