#just some thoughts while reading jane eyre

[speakhighlyifyouspeakofcake]

When I was REALLY young I borrowed the children’s version of Jane Eyre and absolutely fell in love with it. It was the starting point of my love for classic romances and was very swiftly followed by pride and prejudice (from which I have never moved on). Nearly 20 years later I’ve decided to finish the original text (via Story time for grownups) and omg???

This is officially a Mr Rochester HATE club like ?? What the fuck??? I feel conned??

So I can’t tell if the dialogue is just very different in the version I read (but the plot is pretty much the same, just with less discussion of sex and addiction etc) was very different or because I am now considerably older than jane??

This is like watching one of my girls in a TERRIBLE relationship trying to justify through tears why he’s actually really nice and just going through some tough things while we try and baby speak that it’s actually not normal for him to constantly talk down to you, hide the fact that he’s still living with his ex, pretend to date other women to make you jealous, make you feel bad for crying when he’s upset you because it upsets HIM, and threaten you with violence and hen you try and leave him!!! It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t mean it!! It’s a weird thing to say!! Like don’t get me wrong, pre the wedding Mr Rochester is a bit of me- aside from the massive immaturity (that I couldn’t look past as a woman sorry) I fuck with the flirtatious arguing and his rough passion but omg she is EIGHTEEN!!! You are TOUCHING FORTY EDWARD!!

So I’m at the bit where he’s trying to justify why he isn’t actually married because he was just a young impressionable man (reader, he was at least in his twenties, and therefore still older than jane is currently) and I honestly could take a pole to his head I- !!!! He is yet to actually apologise to Jane or ask her how she feels outside of HIM.

JAIL EDWARD!!

I genuinely don’t understand how you can read this as an adult and still think he’s sweet?? This is surpassing Cathy and Heathcliff levels of toxic for me, and I could overlook it if they were both on it but she’s just a child!! All I have to say is Mr Darcy would never??? Captain Wentworth??? Mr Knightly?? Would never. EDIT: Mr Thornton?!?! My fav ragged hero would never?????

There’s also something to be said about rereading this as a black mixed race woman 💀 Charlotte? Please come and explain yourself. Idk who is trying to fool me that the mad woman locked in loft that they keep describing as a beast and animal is a “tan European” when Miss Charlotte ticked “all of the above” on every racist stereotype available to describe a black woman 😀

Maybe I’ll flesh out some actual thoughts when I’m finished. Maybe I’ll make a little book blog with my thoughts of many but DEATH to Rochester.

[unbearable-lightness-of-ink]

k babes reblog and tell me about the books on your nightstand (or wherever you stack books by your bed if you don't have a nightstand) what are they why are they there etc

[dostoyevsky-official]

The Elite College Students Who Can’t Read Books

Nicholas Dames has taught Literature Humanities, Columbia University’s required great-books course, since 1998. He loves the job, but it has changed. Over the past decade, students have become overwhelmed by the reading. College kids have never read everything they’re assigned, of course, but this feels different. Dames’s students now seem bewildered by the thought of finishing multiple books a semester. His colleagues have noticed the same problem. Many students no longer arrive at college—even at highly selective, elite colleges—prepared to read books.

This development puzzled Dames until one day during the fall 2022 semester, when a first-year student came to his office hours to share how challenging she had found the early assignments. Lit Hum often requires students to read a book, sometimes a very long and dense one, in just a week or two. But the student told Dames that, at her public high school, she had never been required to read an entire book. She had been assigned excerpts, poetry, and news articles, but not a single book cover to cover.

[...] Twenty years ago, Dames’s classes had no problem engaging in sophisticated discussions of Pride and Prejudice one week and Crime and Punishment the next. Now his students tell him up front that the reading load feels impossible. It’s not just the frenetic pace; they struggle to attend to small details while keeping track of the overall plot.

No comprehensive data exist on this trend, but the majority of the 33 professors I spoke with relayed similar experiences. Many had discussed the change at faculty meetings and in conversations with fellow instructors. [...] Daniel Shore, the chair of Georgetown’s English department, told me that his students have trouble staying focused on even a sonnet.

Failing to complete a 14-line poem without succumbing to distraction suggests one familiar explanation for the decline in reading aptitude: smartphones. Teenagers are constantly tempted by their devices, which inhibits their preparation for the rigors of college coursework—then they get to college, and the distractions keep flowing. “It’s changed expectations about what’s worthy of attention,” Daniel Willingham, a psychologist at UVA, told me. “Being bored has become unnatural.” Reading books, even for pleasure, can’t compete with TikTok, Instagram, YouTube. In 1976, about 40 percent of high-school seniors said they had read at least six books for fun in the previous year, compared with 11.5 percent who hadn’t read any. By 2022, those percentages had flipped.

[...] Mike Szkolka, a teacher and an administrator who has spent almost two decades in Boston and New York schools, told me that excerpts have replaced books across grade levels. “There’s no testing skill that can be related to … Can you sit down and read Tolstoy? ” he said. And if a skill is not easily measured, instructors and district leaders have little incentive to teach it. [...] The pandemic, which scrambled syllabi and moved coursework online, accelerated the shift away from teaching complete works.

[...] But it’s not clear that instructors can foster a love of reading by thinning out the syllabus. Some experts I spoke with attributed the decline of book reading to a shift in values rather than in skill sets. Students can still read books, they argue—they’re just choosing not to. Students today are far more concerned about their job prospects than they were in the past. Every year, they tell Howley that, despite enjoying what they learned in Lit Hum, they plan to instead get a degree in something more useful for their career.

[...] For years, Dames has asked his first-years about their favorite book. In the past, they cited books such as Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. Now, he says, almost half of them cite young-adult books. Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series seems to be a particular favorite.

[awearywritersworld]

do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you

sukuna x reader summary: the higher ups succeed in kidnapping you and sukuna doesn't know if he'll get you back alive. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: fluff and angst. reader is kidnapped and gravely injured. depictions of blood. canon typical violence. "good girl". cursing. ft gojo. aged up!yuuji. fem!reader. not canon compliant. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: and finally folks, we've reached the climax of the series. there will only be one more official chapter after this one, so i hope this lives up to expectations. this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it's certainly better when serving as a culmination to the other chapters. i'm a little nervous posting this, so i'd love to hear your thoughts :) series masterlist // masterlist

brontë

sukuna isn't sure at first why the name is familiar, but he soon realizes that a great many of the books on your shelf are authored by women of that name, including jane eyre.

though he finds your copy of wuthering heights, written by an emily brontë, tucked away in the drawer of your nightstand, the headphones you'd asked him grab lying on top of it.

he pulls the book from its spot with care, as the cover is worn and frayed at the edges. flipping through the pages, there are quite a few quotes underlined and countless scribbles in the margins.

while you'd forced him to read jane eyre, he tucks wuthering heights under his arm of his own volition. he isn't sure if it's because you've kept this one separate from the others, or because it might give him an opportunity to know you better, or because he's positive it will make you happy, but he does it all the same.

when he steps back into the living room, he drops your headphones in your lap and takes the seat beside you, wasting no time in beginning the first chapter.

"what've you got there?" you eventually question, even though you know the answer.

he doesn't spare you a glance when he responds, "a book."

"oh, yeah? what kind of book?"

he elects to ignore you, which only serves to encourage your mischievous tone. "i thought romance novels were beneath you and your refined taste."

finally looking at you, he narrows his eyes at your childish taunt. "do you want me to read it or not?"

"of course—"

"then i suggest you be a good girl and behave yourself."

your mouth snaps shut so abruptly that your teeth click as they meet, something sukuna takes note of with a raised brow. you're thankful when he returns to reading rather than saying anything more.

so without any additional interruptions, he delves into the tragic story of heathcliff and catherine. or more precisely, the pain and destruction that follows it.

the further he reads, the better he discerns that while you seem to have a penchant for the brontë sisters, they seem to have a penchant for writing about men that are wicked and callous.

the very notion makes him chuckle.

maybe it explains why he's sitting here with your feet in his lap, while you try and fail (rather cutely) to stifle your giggles at some stupid youtube video.

"what?" you ask, taking out one of your headphones once you notice he's staring at you with a small smile.

"nothing. just enjoying the story."

the way you beam in response makes his mouth go dry.

"hah! i knew it! you're a romantic at heart."

you make a big show of pressing your hands to your chest and swooning.

"settle down there," he chides, his hand patting your thigh. "you're getting ahead of yourself."

two days later, sukuna feels that something isn't quite right. it's barely perceptible, nothing more than a minute shift in the atmosphere, but it grows more palpable as time stretches on.

yuuji's mission takes him farther from home than usual, to a little town about two hours outside of the city.

the curse he exorcises upon his arrival is much weaker than he's grown accustomed to, probably only a third or fourth grade.

yuuji doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, or at least, he pretends not to. sukuna thinks that's the problem with optimists— they don't take action quickly enough, too busy wasting their time hoping for the best.

when he returns home late that afternoon only to find your apartment door slightly ajar, his hand hesitates before pushing it open.

he discovers that the living room is littered with residuals, but it's eerie how nothing else is out of place... save for you, who is no where to be found.

in a disbelieving panic, he begins checking all the rooms, not hearing sukuna's frantic voice even though it's coming from inside his own head. "she's not here... idiot, she's not here. we have to go. we have to go now."

he eventually finds a note lying on the coffee table, but even this he hardly processes— something about surrendering himself and sukuna to the higher ups at headquarters in exchange for your life.

"listen to me, brat... you're wasting time... idiot!"

"what?" he barks abruptly.

"she isn't far, a couple blocks to the east at most—"

"it doesn't matter. headquarters is to the west. that's where we need to go."

"have you failed to comprehend a single thing i've said about the higher ups?" sukuna sneers. "they'll kill us, then kill her too. she knows too much about jujutsu society. they won't let her live, and that's if she's not... if she isn't already..."

he can't get the word out.

"no... no, they wouldn't..."

"now is not the time for your blind faith in the integrity of others." sukuna tries again and again to assume control of his vessel, and while the force behind it makes yuuji's head pound, it's no use. "for fuck's sake— please, yuuji!"

it's the first time he's heard the curse occupying his body say his actual name or use the word please, and in a strange way, it seems to ground him to some degree.

itadori yuuji has always been uncannily fast, but as soon as he makes his way out onto the street, it's like his feet aren't even touching the pavement. he appears as a blur to the people he passes by and it happens so briefly that they more than likely disregard it as a trick of the light.

the ruby decorating your neck leads them right to you, a low hum of frequency that only sukuna can hear.

yuuji comes to a stop in front of an old warehouse building. there are several wooden boards nailed across the main entrance, which splinter and fall to the earth under the impact of his impatient fist.

although the people down the hall quiet themselves upon hearing the crash, he can still sense their energy. he just can't seem to pick up on yours.

maybe sukuna is wrong? maybe you're not here after all.

"no," comes sukuna's voice, cold and hard. "she's here."

he makes his way down the stretch of hallway and to an open door where he stops, both of his feet planting firmly on the ground. everything appears to be frozen as he stares at ten sorcerers who quietly stare back.

it's clear they were not expecting yuuji, but he knows the higher ups assigned so many sorcerers just in case he did somehow figure out where they brought you.

he recognizes many of their faces and even knows some of their names, their familiarity no doubt intended to discourage him from engaging them.

after a few moments, yuuji's eyes land on your figure— motionless on the floor.

he has to admit, the higher up have put together a fairly sound plan. it's just that there's one small detail they failed to account for.

a curious and constraining sensation erupts from the center of his chest, and yuuji doesn't quite understand what's happening until he registers he's no longer the one in control of his body.

the king of curses remains completely still as he studies you from afar with a slight tilt of his head, his mind refusing to believe the scene right before his eyes.

when the gravity of the situation finally settles in, a gut churning agony blossoms in his stomach and bleeds into every part of his body. every bone. every pore. every vein.

the entirety of him burns, both inside and out.

the air in the room is heavy, overburdened with hostility and raw power. it makes the sorcerers' knees buckle and they nearly collapse beneath the immense pressure.

as sukuna takes a step toward the nearest person, the edges of his vision turn white.

he moves with deadly precision, at a speed which very few people on earth could even begin to comprehend.

it's a joke how quickly it's all over.

some of them are in pieces. others have exploded into nothingness. a few are burnt to ash.

in his haste, sukuna nearly misses the final sorcerer. he's probably the youngest of them all, cowering in the corner of the room. his eyes are wide with horror and his body shakes with fear.

"p-please, spare m-me. i didn't touch her," he sputters out.

the laugh that follows is utterly humorless. "do you actually believe that makes a difference to me?"

"i told t-them not to hurt her! i swear. that's how i got this." he points to his bottom lip, busted open and swollen. "she even told me she was sorry that i got hurt... that i didn't have to defend her."

this gives sukuna pause and his jaw clenches as he considers what you would tell him right now were you conscious.

so even as every fiber of his being screams at him to end the sorcerer's miserable, pathetic life... he restrains himself and pins him to the wall instead, pressing a forearm to his throat.

"go back to the higher ups. go and tell them that if anyone lays a hand on her ever again, i will ruin them," he spits, venom lacing each word. "i'll slaughter every last one of them. i'll level their homes. i'll take everything from them. tell them this is a promise they shouldn't take lightly."

when sukuna takes a step back, the young sorcerer crumbles to the ground. "i- i- i will."

"then get out of my sight," he growls.

returning his attention to you, his demeanor shifts in every respect.

you're going to be okay. you're going to wake up. he's going to take you home and it will be like none of this ever happened.

but when he falls to your side, his knees meeting the ground so brutally that it cracks beneath his weight, his conviction falters.

your blood is spilt onto the concrete. your skin is cold. he can't tell if you're breathing. he can't feel your heartbeat.

he determines that the gash across your side deserves his attention first and his hands tremble as they move to cover it.

he puts every ounce of power he has into his reverse cursed technique, but your eyes don't flutter and your chest doesn't rise nor fall.

his palms stain crimson, and while blood has never bothered him before, the fact that it's yours forces the bile to rise from his stomach and into his throat.

and his face is wet.

why is his face wet?

why are his lips trembling?

why is his vision blurred?

he wipes at his cheeks, leaving a trail of your blood across his face in the process.

"no," he chokes out. "please, don't do this. you're fine. please, you have to be fine. please."

the king of curses begs, but he has no idea who his desperation is directed toward. maybe it's you. maybe it's the gods. maybe it's some entity that's unknowable to him.

hell, maybe it's just whoever will listen to him. there has to be someone out there, right? something.

unbeknownst to him, and poetic in sorrowful sort of a way, his next pleas are reminiscent of heathcliff's after he learns of catherine's death.

"be with me always"

"stay with me, angel. please don't go."

"take any form"

"hate me for this if you want, for being the reason you're in this mess. you can't hate me anymore than i already hate myself."

"drive me mad"

"i'll read every single stupid romance novel on your bookshelf. i promise i'll play all of your ridiculous card games."

"only do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you!"

"just don't leave me here without you. i don't want to be here without you.

"oh, god! it is unutterable!"

"please," he whimpers.

"i cannot live without my life!"

"you're everything. you are everything. you can't leave me with nothing."

"i cannot live without my soul!"

"i love you," sukuna laments. "i love you."

he doesn't even comprehend the words that have been tumbling past his lips, because they're coming from a part of himself that he long believed to be dead and buried.

it's the part of him that can feel suffering and regret and loss and love.

it's the part of him that you've been painstakingly unearthing whenever you send a smile his way. whenever you curl into his side. whenever you press your lips to his.

and he's so undeserving of it each and every time. he's known that. god, has he known that.

he thinks bitterly of the night you'd walked to the park together hand in hand— when you told him the universe had sent you to knock him down a peg.

turns out you were wrong.

the universe gave you to him, but only so it could take you away too.

and it won't just knock him down a peg. it will fucking destroy him. it will completely and irrevocably destroy him.

this is what he does deserve.

how is it that you can be both his salvation and his undoing?

"i love you," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

it's ironic that the three words he's never once said in his entire life are the only ones he can manage in this moment.

he hears a quiet sigh escape your lips, but he knows that it's just his imagination— nothing more than the universe playing its final sick joke.

the sun is out and its rays are peeking through the window of your bedroom. sukuna thinks it's despicable.

everything should be cold and dark today.

you're lying in bed half dead and the only thing keeping sukuna's sanity intact is the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

he should go to jujutsu headquarters and deliver a slow, painful death to every single person involved in yesterday's events. then he should turn their headquarters to ash and stand there watching until the wind blows every last bit away.

but more than that, he should be by your side, so that's where he's remained.

it's been nearly a day and you still haven't woken up, so he's taken to performing reverse cursed technique on you every few hours.

yuuji had shoko come by last night and she assured him your body just needs time, but sukuna doesn't intend on taking any chances. aside from the brat, there isn't a single sorcerer he trusts.

so naturally when gojo teleports directly in the middle of your living room unannounced, sukuna moves swiftly to his feet and blocks the doorway to your room.

gojo regards him nonchalantly, hiding his surprise that yuuji is not the one to greet him. "what are you doing... out and about?"

"that's none of your concern."

"right. well, i came to check in."

"that's not necessary."

the two men watch one another carefully, before gojo eventually chuckles. "god, you actually care about her. i guess the whole soul thing should have been proof enough, but i couldn't bring myself to really believe it until now."

sukuna doesn't respond, so the other man continues. "you should know that the threat to her has been... dealt with."

"that so?" sukuna asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"mhmmm. word of this spread to the three clans and they agreed civilians have no place in jujutsu politics if it can be helped. not to mention your little... messenger. it all caused quite the ruckus for the higher ups."

"i don't think ruckus is enough to deter them." his tone makes it clear that he feels gojo is wasting his time.

"this isn't the heian era anymore, you know. the higher ups may still be the figureheads of jujutsu society, but they have little say when all three clans concur on a matter." receiving nothing more than a blank stare, he adds, "besides, i'm rather fond of her myself, so i may or may not have made certain threats of my own."

sukuna's eye twitches. "anything else you feel compelled to share before you leave?"

"can i at least see her before i go?" gojo questions, peering over sukuna's shoulder.

"if you do not value your life, i welcome you to try."

a sly grin breaks out on gojo's face.

"eager to make good on your promise of killing me from all those years ago?" he pauses, his hand coming to rest on his chin as if he's pondering something of great importance. "as much as i'd love to see you try, we shouldn't wake our precious sleeping beauty before she's ready, so maybe another time."

with that, he disappears, leaving a very irritated sukuna in his wake.

"our," he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. "that unbearable imbecile."

when he turns on his heel, however, the malicious look is immediately wiped from his face because you're awake.

you're awake and peering at him from behind heavy lids.

"hey," you greet in a small voice.

his eyes grow impossibly soft and he sits on the bed beside you, his hand moving to caress your cheek. your skin is warm again.

"hey, angel."

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[that1emowitch]

One shot suggestion: Dick finding out about joyfire bc him finding out his little brother is dating his EX (and honestly probably his other ex too, let’s be real) IS SO FUNNY

OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA!!!

(also can I just say I also love ur username <3)

This isn't short enough to be a drabble but not exactly too long either, it's 760 words, so make of that what you will. Here it is!

TW: Jason's usual level of swearing but milder

"YOU'RE DATING MY EXES??!"

Dick stood in Jason's doorway at the Manor, eyes wide. This was one of those rare times when Jason was staying here, just for a few days, mostly for Alfred's sake. His friends (or so Dick thought) Roy and Kori had joined him— for reasons unknown.

Dick was... feeling slightly awkward with them being around, Kori more so. He was quite civil, buddies, even, with Roy— after all, they'd only dated for a week or so. But Kori... their relationship had not ended well, at all. But Jason refused to unless his Outlaws did, so Dick let it slide.

He'd gone up to call them down for dinner, at Alfred's bidding, going to Jason's room first... to find Jason sitting on Kori's lap while she cradled him, and Roy french-kissing Jason.

"YOU'RE DATING MY EXES??!" The words tore out of him as he stood with his eyes wide, trying to process what he'd just seen.

Jason turned beet red, suddenly jumping away from the red heads. Kori sat cross-legged, smiling as if nothing had happened, while Roy wore a smug grin.

Dick turned to them, his voice high-pitched with disbelief. "AND YOU ARE DATING MY LITTLE WING?"

"I ain't little, Dickface," Jason scoffed from the corner, looking downright embarrassed.

"I don't see the problem," Kori stood from the bed, towering over all three men. "You and I, or you and Roy are not dating anymore. And we are all adults. And we have the love for each other. Why would we not date?"

A unbelieving sound escaped Dick. He turned to Roy, eyes flaming. "You. I know for a fact how vulgar you get in a relationship. Have you done it with my baby brother?"

From across the room he heard Jason's choked gasp, but he paid it no mind.

"Dude. Your 'baby brother' is 24." Roy shrugged, resting a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Why're you getting so worked up over it?"

"I'm not— no, no, I'm not worked up!" Dick scoffed. He faced Jason, pouting. "You. You stole my exes!"

Finally, Jason managed to get control over his expression and forced a smirk. "Yeah. Maybe they just know who's better."

"Yes, Jason is a much better of the partner than you, Dick," Kori pointed out not-so-helpfully.

Roy finally registered Dick's bloodthirsty expression and backed away, hands lifted. "Whoa, hey, man, chill. Seriously."

"I am chill," Dick snapped, glaring at him. He turned back to Jason, who was clearly trying to appear cool and intimidating, and pointed an accusing finger. "You have so much to explain. But right now Alfred wants you all down for dinner."

Then he left the trio without a word.

A bit after dinner, Dick finally found Jason alone in the library, reading some book titled 'Jane Eyre'.

"Jason." Dick walked towards him, expression a forced calm. "I am... sorry about how I reacted earlier."

Jason looked up from his book, an eyebrow raised. "No, you're not."

"No, I'm not," Dick agreed, sitting beside his brother. "How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't tell the rest of the Bat-cult either. You're not special." Jason leaned back, carefully placing a bookmark in the book before putting it aside.

Dick took this as a sign that Jason wanted to talk. "Jaybird... I'm your big brother, you know I love you, right?"

Jason looked away, muttering something that sounded like a mix of "Fuck off" and "Yeah, I know."

"It's just... If you'd told me, yeah, I might have freaked out at first. But I just want you to be happy, in the end. And if you're happy with my exes..." Dick sighed. "I guess I'll just have to live with it."

Jason turned back to his brother, glaring slightly. "Stop calling them your exes. That's my girlfriend and boyfriend you're talking about."

Dick winced. "Yeah. Sorry, sorry, I just... Do you just have a thing for redheads? You had that schoolboy crush on Babs when you were, like, 13. You were dating Artemis of Bana-Mighdall. And now you're dating Roy and Kori."

Jason scoffed. "You're one to talk. You've dated Babs, Kori, Roy, Wally West... Do I really have to go on?"

Dick chuckled, laying an arm around Jason's shoulders. "Guess it runs in the family, huh?"

"We're adopted, asshole," Jason grumbled, but leaned into Dick's touch.

After a long beat of silence, Jason spoke up again. "I also dated Rose Wilson for a while. She is not a redhead."

An amused laugh escaped Dick, and he ruffled Jason's hair lovingly. "Yeah, yeah."

[websterss]

HOW TO BREAK A GIRL'S HEART — TOM HOLLAND

REQUEST: I don’t know if you’re that type of person who takes requests but I had an idea with tom holland where he’s the stereotypical jock and you’re the nerdy girl but here’s the thing you’re also diagnosed with cancer and he keeps bullying you every single day of the week until when he figures out you have cancer then he starts to feel guilty and starts to fall for you, but you try to be sympathetic by saying that it’s not his fault for all of this and etc just a thought by the way.

WARNING(S): Angst, mentions of cancer, fluff at the end, teasing, name-calling, bullying.

WORD COUNT: 19,121 :)

PAIRING: Tom Holland x Sick!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Old repost! Feedback is always welcomed. Also be nice, 16 year old me wrote this, but I gave it more structure lmfao but it was kind of sweet to read some of my old works lol. This was honestly one of the better ones I found.

MASTERLIST

Growing up you had made it your life's mission to try to find a way to get through school. That mission involved trying to make friends and make the best out of everything, which now seemed like a wish you could only dream of. School felt like it never got any easier. Throughout it, you realize who were your true friends and who weren’t at all.

Especially when high school rolled around the corner. You got teased and picked on a lot more. You liked to think it was because you were sick. You had cancer, and as much as you hated it your mom had been hesitant about letting you attend school. She was scared something bad was going to happen. You didn’t have anyone to have your back. You didn’t have many friends.

Unless you counted your mere acquaintances, but you hardly ever spoke to them. You were pretty much alone, and as much as you wanted to believe that you got picked on because you were sick. You were wrong because no one knew. No one knew you were sick and they teased and picked on you because of who you were and how you carried yourself, it had nothing to do with you being sick.

-

Monday.

You were in front of your locker reading your favorite book, Jane Eyre. Your locker’s door blocked any view of anyone who could come up from your right. You quickly got startled when Tom appeared. He slammed the door against the wall of lockers to your right and then leaned against it.

You bookmarked your page before putting it in your locker face down. Tom’s signature smirk plastered on his lips.

“Oh hi, Tom.” You smiled nervously not knowing why he decided to approach you.

Tom never really approached anyone outside of his inner circle of friends. Being the star quarterback gave him leverage around the school, plus made him quite popular. Everyone knew who he was. So for him to approach you, someone who liked to keep to herself, and was at the bottom of the status level, it was a little surprising. You weren’t sure of what he wanted but you were about to find out.

“Can I help you?”

“I was just curious. Where did you get your sweater?” Tom said as if he was curious.

“My sweater? Oh, my mom bought it for me, it actu-” 

Tom raised his hand to stop you. “I wasn’t actually interested, but nice to know mommy’s the one dressing you up for school.” He started laughing.

“Oh um, I–” You sputtered.

“I, uh, eh.” He mocked you. “Is there something wrong? Cat got your tongue sweetheart?”

“Is that all you wanted?” You muttered softly while you played with the hem of your sleeve.

Tom’s gaze lingered on you for a minute before he shot a glance behind your shoulder looking over at his buddies and his girlfriend who were laughing. The laugh was directed at you. They thought of you as a joke.

“Yeah…that’s all.” He brushed whatever he was feeling off and brought himself to let a laugh emit past his lips. His shoulder brushed yours as he began walking away, the contact causing you to fall into the lockers a bit. You followed his retreating form back to his friends. They were already staring at you, what else was new?

You turned back to your locker, grabbed your book, and placed it in your backpack. It wasn’t too long before the bell rang for your next class. Your class was in the direction where Tom and his friends were standing. You began walking, taking one step after another until you were close to them, that’s when you began walking by them faster. As you hurried along, you didn’t notice Tom’s girlfriend extending out her foot, which had you tripping over it in an instant. Your knees hit the ground harshly, the stinging of the pain flowing through your legs. As harsh as your landing was, the rest of the student body laughing at you was much harsher.

“What a joke!” Tom’s girlfriend laughed along with everyone else.

You gathered yourself onto your feet and quickly moved through the hallway away from everyone’s finger-pointing and cackling. Once you reached your class you felt like you could finally breathe again. You gave your focus on what you had been learning that day in class.

-

Tuesday.

As the next day came around you did your very best to avoid the jocks altogether. Mostly Tom. Who knew the star quarterback was a total jerk? Was jerk even enough to describe him? You shook your head at the thought as you tried to focus your attention back on your book. It was your fathers who passed away before your senior year. It seemed as though the book was the only thing that made him a part of you still. He still was, in your heart at least.

He read you the book every night before bedtime. Now all you could do was read it over and over again. As soon as you were down to the very last word of the page you were on, the book was swiped from your hands. Bringing you back from your inner thoughts you looked up to find

Tom. You looked up from your empty hands. You were never one to make a scene so all you did was sit on the floor there looking at him with furrowed brows.

“C-Can I have my book back please?” You muttered. You started playing with the hem of your sleeve again.

“Why don’t you come and get it.” Tom smirked as he started walking backwards. You looked at him worried. You glanced around noticing everyone in the library was minding their own business. There wasn’t anyone in the aisle you were in.

He wanted you to chase him, and you were under strict instructions from the doctor to not do any physical activities. Running included.

“I-I can’t, please can I just have my book back?” You pleaded softly as you stood up and stepped closer to him only to have him take one step back.

“Fine, you want your book…” Tom lifted his arm and threw it over your head. You turned around quickly. Standing behind you was a buddy of Tom’s with your book in his hands. You were shocked and outnumbered at this point.

“Can I please have my book back?” You stared at Tom’s friend with pleading eyes.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He smiled then threw the book over your head again. Tom caught it while laughing. The two of them continued this childish game of monkey in the middle.

The only thing you could feel and think at that moment was why…Why me?

“Tom please!” You begged this time. “I’ll do whatever you want just please hand it back…please.” You sighed in defeat.

Watching your shoulders slump down, Tom paused. His arm went back down. “Anything?” He asked with a hint of curiosity and something else you couldn’t pinpoint.

“Y-Yes.” You hesitate but answer him.

“Alright…” He smirked as he walked closer to you. “Kiss me.” He smirked cockily. “W-What?” You looked at him startled by his request.

“I’ll give you your book back if you kiss me.” Tom kept smirking.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” You asked, incredulous.

“Don't you want your book back, Y/n?”

“Yes.” Your voice was small.

It was just a kiss, right? No harm no foul.

Tom stood still as you took a step forward and placed your hands on his shoulder. You gulped nervously before leaning in to kiss him. You closed your eyes tightly as you pressed your lips to his slowly. Something inside Tom caused him to flutter his eyes and place his hands on your waist. The kiss only lasted for a minute, but that didn’t help the way Tom felt his stomach do flips.

Tom pulled back first watching the way your eyes were still closed and how your lips looked inviting. You opened your e/c eyes. Yes e/c, that’s what Tom immediately noticed about them. Then his gaze quickly averted behind you to Harrison, who was giving him a questioning look, and the very reason for teasing you came flooding back into his head.

Tom licked his lips and scoffed to play off what just happened. “You’re so easy.” He began laughing and handed you your book.

You grabbed it from his hand and curled it into your chest. “Thanks.” You glanced down at your feet.

“Yeah, whatever.” Tom shook his head and walked off with Harrison.

You slowly stopped at the end of the aisle and peeked to see Tom meet his girlfriend at the entrance of the library with a kiss. You watched him take her hand and head upstairs to the second floor of the library with smirks on their faces.

You sighed as you took your seat on the carpet again and began reading where you left off. This time without any interruptions.

-

Wednesday.

You were at lunch eating by yourself when Tom’s girlfriend approached you along with her little clique behind her. You were reading your dad’s book when you noticed her. You wanted to do everything you could to make yourself invisible, but the grip on her smoothie was making you anxious.

You placed your bookmark back on the page you were reading and gave her your attention. “Can I help you?” You asked her softly.

“Actually, you can.” Harper sat down in front of you with a smile that screamed trouble.

“O-Okay.”

Awe she’s adorable, Harper thought. “So Sally-” She started.

“It’s Y/n.” You laughed nervously.

“Whatever. Look I know you’re a sweet girl and all, but you sure do lead people on. Making them believe you’re all innocent.” She put her hands together on the table.

“W-What?” You shrunk a little. “What are you talking-” You began but she cut you off.

-

“Hey Tom, what’s Harper doing with the freak?” Harrison pointed out motioning over Tom’s shoulder.

“What?” Tom furrowed his brows and turned around in his seat. That’s when he saw his girlfriend seated in front of you. His heart dropped a little, but he didn’t let anyone see that. “Who knows…she’s probably helping the poor girl out. She’s got to update that wardrobe of hers. Harper's probably just giving her some pointers, right?” He chuckled bumping shoulders with his buddy on his right.

“You're probably right. That sweater does hide her well. You think she’s got any?” Harrison laughed.

“Got what?” Tom asked.

“You know…” Harrison made a gesture over his chest.

“Harrison, no mate, just no. Quit being a perv you div. Your mother taught you better than that.” Tom shook his head

“I’m just saying…” Harrison raised his hands in surrender.

-

“-So a little birdy told me about your little stunt in the library. I’m not one to get jealous seeing as there is no one good enough for my Tommy, but I do get mad when little girls like you think you can take our boyfriends.” Harper stared you down.

“No, no, look you got it all wrong. He tricked me, he kissed me first. I would never do that. I’m not like that!” You began rambling already feeling like this whole conversation was going to take a turn.

“That’s the thing though, you all say the same thing before you pounce…” She trailed off before standing up, and right as she turned her back for a second, she said. “Oh yeah, one more thing...” Harper swirled around and threw the smoothie at you. The contents spilling all over you, and your book.

You gasped as you tried wiping the drink away from your eyes. It started stinging and irritating your eyes quickly. You stood up slowly, but even that caused you to slip a little. You finally looked up, and at that moment you wished you hadn’t. Half of the student body was either staring at you or taking a video of you. The rest were laughing at you. Your eyes stopped on a certain someone, and all they could do was stare at you. You averted your gaze back to Harper.

“I-I’m sorry.” Your voice grew small. You didn’t care anymore that phones were flashing at you or that people were cackling at you again.

“I’m not.” Harper laughed.

You quickly turned your head to collect your bag, and as you did so. Harper snatched the book from the table and hid it behind her back. You turned back and left without saying another word. Harper waved you goodbye, laughing as you slipped again right before exiting the cafeteria. “That should keep her away.”

“Nice one Harper.”

“Maybe she'll rethink her intentions before she kisses Tom again.” She giggled and walked towards Tom.

“Hey, baby.” She placed herself on his lap and kissed him deeply. “Did you see that freakshow, my goodness what a joke.” She laughed as Tom wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Don’t you think you went a little too far?” Tom tilted his head.

“Of course not, besides, I had to let her know who you belong to.” She leaned forward and caught his lower lip with her teeth biting on them gently before pulling back.

Harper smiled and turned her gaze to Harrison. “Hey, Harrison, happy birthday.” She giggled as she threw him your book.

“It’s not my birthday, though,” Harrison said. Tom quickly recognized it and grabbed it.

“You took her book?” He furrowed his brows in question.

“I don’t know, the freak left it behind. Did you see her face? I got her so good!” Harper's eyes widened. A smile dawning her features.

“Yeah, I did, hey why don’t I take it and the next time I get her alone, I’ll taunt her with it.” He turned to Harper.

“Oh, that's a good idea.” Harper got off his lap. “I’ll see you in a bit?”

“Yeah, I just remembered I have to go do something. Sorry, I’ll make it up to you.” Tom got up from the table and pecked her lips quickly. “Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yeah.” Tom smiled and walked out of the cafeteria with your book. Leaving Harper and Harrison by themselves since the rest of their group left. The cafeteria was deserted apart from the lunch ladies, but they were too busy in the back of the kitchen.

Harper sighed. “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

“No, not a clue.” Harrison dismissed her question quickly.

-

Thursday.

After what happened yesterday. Tom held onto your book. He had the urge to approach you and return it, but he found another way. Then he was reminded of the way his friends might react or the way they might tease him. The pressure was always on him. Whether it be leading his team to a win, or trying to keep his friends. Now the pressure was directed towards you and whether or not he would tease and taunt you.

“Tom and Y/n…” Tom looked upright as the teacher called your names. He looked around until he found you in your seat. Others around him began laughing quietly and whispering amongst themselves. Expressing their pity to him for being paired with you. You slowly sunk into your chair as you felt everyone staring at you. They already thought you were trying to steal Harper’s boyfriend, now you knew this little class pairing would spread around to Harper.

No avoiding the tension now, you thought.

As the teacher finished calling the rest of the names, the bell rang letting everyone know they were dismissed which in your case, was a free period. You collected your notebook and placed it in your bag. After you were all packed you exited the room and started your walk to the library.

“Hey, Y/n wait up!” You stiffened up as you heard his voice. You cringed slightly as people stopped to look at you. You turned around slowly and faced him.

“Y-Yes?”

“Listen I um…” He was going to say sorry, but Harper caught his attention from down the hall, and he sighed.

“Yes?” You repeated, wanting him to let it out.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to help out with the project. I would love to help you, but I got a lot on my plate, ya know.” He chuckled as if you understood where he was coming from. “With practice and the stacks of homework, I got, I’m slammed. If you could not tell Mr. Stevenson about it that’d be great. Don’t want him thinking I made you do all the work now do we?”

“Y-You want me to do the whole project?” You asked quickly, getting upset.

“It doesn’t seem like it’s going to be hard, you’re a smart girl Y/n. Look I gotta get to practice, but let me know how it goes, okay.” He threw you a gentle smile, and you almost believed he thought you were smart. “Hey, Harper wait up!” He called his girlfriend’s name.

You sighed and walked slowly to the library. You wanted to read your dad’s book, but you didn’t have it anymore. You also wanted to brainstorm ideas with Tom, but he blew you off and left it all for you to do. As you got to the library you placed your things down at your designated table and started getting your notebook out.

“Hello, Y/n.” You looked up at the librarian who now stood in front of your table. “Hi Grace, how are you today?” You smiled sweetly at the old lady.

“Oh, I’m fine dear, how are you though?” Grace knew what you were going through and she knew about your cancer. One or some few you’ve only told this to.

“Taking it one day at a time…I’m still waiting for a good day.” You halfheartedly laughed.

“You know every day may not always be the greatest, but there are small great things within that day. So, anything good happen, today?” She smiled softly.

“This cute guy was assigned to be my partner for a project.” You smiled but it quickly faded.

“What’s wrong with that?!”

“He’s the guy that’s been making my life hell, and now I'm left to do this project on my own...” You mumble quietly towards the end to yourself.

“Oh, I see…” She nodded. “Ya know, guys usually pick on girls they like.” She teased with a smirk.

“Trust me, he doesn’t like me.”

“I beg to differ.” Grace brought around something that she was hiding behind her back into your view. It was your book. Your dad’s book. You gasped as you slowly took it from her hand.

“W-Where did you get this?” You looked at her with curiosity.

“My lips are sealed, honey.” She zipped her lips with her pointer finger and thumb and threw away the fake key.

“Thank you.” You smiled.

���Of course, dear, enjoy the rest of your day.”

“I will.” You laughed with a breath.

You glanced down at the book and caressed the edges. Apart from the worn-out pages and the faded smoothie stains, the book was just fine. No tears or anything. It wasn’t ruined and you were glad Harper didn’t do anything more to it.

-

Friday.

Out of breath. That’s what you were feeling. Your chest was heaving up and down and your body was growing tired. This had to be the worst day of all for you. No physical activities. That’s what your doctor told you, and now you were running. The one thing that you shouldn’t have been doing.

“T-Tom!” You yelled after him as you were currently chasing him down the halls of the school. People were pushing themselves against the lockers and walls not wanting to get pushed out the way. The look of determination on your face was enough to let people know not to push you any more than Tom was doing.

As stupid as it may have been he took your backpack. Who would take a backpack?! Tom, that’s who. He caught you off guard when he snagged it and took off running. That’s when you took off in a sprint. And now if you didn’t stop you felt like you’d probably throw up or something.

“T-Tom just give it back please!” You said out of breath.

“Oh come on now, Y/n. You can’t be that tired now.” He chuckled as a crowd started gathering. Tom was on the last step of the stairs that led to the second floor of the school, which did not look inviting at all. “You want the backpack, come get it.” Tom started going up the stairs.

Taunting you as you took small steps to the stairs.

You paused, placing your hands on your knees. Looking down at your feet trying to control your breathing. You almost did a double-take when you noticed a small drop of red hit the ground.

You quickly brought your hand up to your nose and removed it as you realized you were bleeding. Your heart was thumping loudly in your ears and all the loud laughter coming from everyone was causing you to panic. You were growing overwhelmed and a little dizzy now.

“Looks like the freak can’t handle a joke. Go on, it’s your time to shine. Go after my boyfriend, go get your stuff, before I flush it down the toilet.” It was Harper’s voice that you heard off to your left. You were still facing the stairs, but you didn’t move.

“Come on Y/n. Unless nothing in here actually matters to you.” Tom smirked. You finally looked up at him and he immediately took notice of the dried blood beginning to drip down the edge of your nose. The dazed look you were giving him made him straighten up.

“Y/n?” His voice sounded muffled and right as you took a step forward you were falling to the ground.

You crashed to the ground hard and the crowd grew silent as they suddenly realized what happened. Tom’s breath hitched in the back of his throat as he stood motionless. It wasn’t until a girl pushed her way to the front of the crowd and rushed to your side.

“Oh my god, Y/n.” She shook you awake and then looked at everyone else. “Why the hell are you all standing there? Call an ambulance, oh my god, Y/n. Help!” She yelled at everyone who just stood there.

Tom then finally rushed down to your side and lifted your head on his lap. “Y/n? Can you hear me?”

“Tom, what the hell are you doing?!” Harper grew angry.

“Harper shut the hell up and get a teacher!” Tom looked at everyone who stood there pissed. “Quit standing there and move!” Everyone scrambled then and there.

A couple of seconds passed and Mr. Stevenson and Grace came rushing down the hall along with the principal.

“How did this happen?” The principal cut right to the point.

“She-” Alice began, but Tom cut her off.

“It was my fault, sir. I pushed her too far, and she fainted.” Tom admitted taking full responsibility for everything.

“Holland, come with me.” The principal motioned with his finger leading him to his office. “Mr. Stevenson stay with her until the paramedics get here.”

“I will sir.” So that left Grace, Alice, and Mr. Stevenson with you, unconscious.

“Hang in there kid, help is on its way.” Grace held onto your hand brushing away falling hairs from your face.

-

“Want to explain to me what happened back there?” The principal stood with his hands on his hips. Tom remained quiet as he stared at his lap. The principal sighed and sat at the edge of his desk in front of Tom. “I know Thomas...”

Tom perked his head up. “What do you mean sir?”

“I don’t know about you, son, but I don’t tolerate students tormenting other students, especially when that student happens to be very sick. Some of your classmates have told me about how you’ve been treating Miss Y/L/N for the past couple of days this week.”

“Sick? What are you talking about?” Tom sat up straighter in his chair, fully worried and curious. Principal Johnson furrowed his brows at his question.

“Are you not aware of her condition Mr. Holland?”

Tom furrowed his brows. “Condition?”

Principal Johnson sighed, bringing his forefinger and thumb up to the bridge of his nose. “Miss Y/L/N has cancer, Mr. Holland.” Tom’s heart sank then and there.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know.”

“Would your actions have been any different if you did? This was all on you, son, and from the looks of it, it didn’t look like you were going to stop.”

“I know that saying sorry isn’t going to make up for it-”

“You’re right it’s not. I don’t currently have any sort of punishment for your behavior, so we’ll discuss it further on Monday next week. But as of right now I only ask that you won’t ever do that sort of thing again. Don’t think I am letting you off the hook that easily Holland, a phone call will still be made to your parents.”

“Of course…” Tom nodded slowly, fully accepting his punishments to come.

“And one more thing…I’m benching you for the rest of the season’s games. I’ll notify your coach immediately.” Tom bit the inside of his cheek, nodding, feeling guilty about it all. “I expected more from you kid. Hopefully, all of this will make you rethink what you’ve done.”

Tom stood up. “Me too.” And left.

-

“Oh, my sweet baby girl.” Your mom sat on your side of the bed caressing your hair as you were slowly coming to.

“M-Mom?” You rasped out.

“Hi sweetie, how’re you feeling?” Your mom furrowed her brows.

“My head kind of hurts.” You squint your eyes as you sit up slowly.

“Well, you did have quite the fall.”

“I fell?”

“You don’t remember?” You shook your head no.

“Well, all that matters is that you’re alright.”

“Y-Yeah.” You frowned sadly.

“What’s wrong sweetie?”

“R-Remember when you asked me…you asked if anything was going on at school.” 

“Yes…”

“I lied.” You looked up at her with teary eyes.

“What happened, sweetie?” Your mom soothed you.

“Well…it’s a long story.” You looked up at her.

“Lay it out.” Then you began telling her all that happened this week, from the start of Monday to what happened today that caused you to fall. Your mom would now know of everything.

-

Saturday.

You were allowed to go home after the doctor gave you the okay. They wanted to make sure nothing else was wrong, and that you were fine. Safe to say you were and now here you were curled up on the couch with your favorite blanket watching Tv. Your mom was in the kitchen cooking up something to eat for the two of you.

Apart from the arrangements of flowers that were left outside your porch when you arrived home, everything was pretty much back to normal. Well not so much, everyone at school kept sending you gifts and apologized over and over again. You were sympathetic, forgave them, and told them that it was okay and that they didn’t know, so no harm or foul right? Much to your mom’s disagreement, she thought that your classmates could go to hell, but you didn’t give that a second thought and let it go quickly.

Right as you were going to turn up the volume the doorbell rang. You looked back at your mom and you shared a look, yours of amusement and hers of annoyance.

“Wonder who that could be?” She said sarcastically moving towards the door.

You snuggled back onto the couch and heard the faint voices of your mom and someone talking. A couple of minutes passed and your mom came trolling back into the living room holding yet another gift basket that you were given. You sat up with a smile, and your mom sat across from you watching you open the basket and going through the assortment of goodies that were inside.

You finally looked up, face stuffed with a chocolate muffin. “What?” Your voice was muffled.

“Nothing sweetie, I’m just glad you’re happy is all.”

“You love this mom.” You laughed.

“Fine you’re right, I do!” She laughed with you and went through the basket herself.

You looked at all the other gift baskets that adorned your living room. “What are we going to do with all these?” You chuckled as you motioned around the room.

“Well from all the stuff they’re sending us, I don’t have to go shopping for another week.” She joked.

You gasped and hit her shoulder playfully. “Mom!”

“I will never get over how you see so much good in others, Y/n. They treated you unfairly, yet you forgave them so easily.”

“What would be the point in holding a grudge? Yeah, they weren’t exactly nice, but I only have so long left. I’d rather enjoy my time with kindness, not hatred.” You smiled.

“Oh come here!” Your mom blinked quickly not wanting tears to fall down her face. “I love you so much...”

“I love you too, mom.”

-

Sunday.

You and your mom were enjoying your weekend together by eating ice cream and watching chick flicks. You were getting to the good part of the movie when you heard the engine of a car pull up. You looked at your mom right as she turned to look at you with a knowing smile.

Your mom ran to the window sill looking out.

“He’s back.” Your mom eyed the boy as she stuffed her mouth with another spoonful of cookies n’ cream. You quickly got up and ran to her side watching as he opened the trunk of his car unloading four more arrangements of flowers. You smiled at the gesture he was making. Your guess was this was his way of apologizing. You both stared as he made his way up to the porch and began placing more flower baskets and vases down gently. He stopped for a second and rearranged one of the vases and moved them to another spot.

“Ya know if he keeps this up we’re not going to have any way to leave the house. He’s filling up the porch quite nicely huh.” Your mom teased licking her spoon that was backward. “I’m allergic to bees, remember?” She giggled. “It’s cute though, what he’s doing for you. I don’t think any boy has ever done that for you.” She nudged your arm playfully.

“Shhh.” You observed as he crouched down and organized the flowers. You considered this the perfect moment and removed the blanket from around your shoulders and set it on the couch. You headed towards the door and slipped your shoes on.

“Make sure to give him a big kiss.” Your mom giggled.

“Not another word from you.” You pointed at her and then opened the door.

The sound of the front door unlocking caught Tom’s attention and he stood up startled. He watched in shock as you walked out and closed the door behind you. Once you finally turned around it was like he couldn’t find his words or breathe properly.

“Hi.” You smiled at him gently.

“H-Hey.” He breathed out nervously.

You smiled and looked at all the flowers he brought you. You hadn’t gone outside to see them for yourself. Only staying inside. Your smile grew bigger when you spotted your favorite flower amongst the dozen other ones. You turned your gaze back to him.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“Of course. I’m glad you like them.”

“You should probably stop though.”

“W-What?” Tom grew nervous.

“I don’t think my porch has any more room for arrangements. Where would you even put them?” You giggled as you looked around. He really did fill up the entire two sides of the porch, only leaving a path from the door to the steps. “Plus...my mom’s allergic to bees.”

“Oh! Yeah, I guess I did go a little...overboard.” Tom cringed as he scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s sweet of you though. No one’s ever done this for me…” You trailed off smiling shyly at your shoes.

It was quiet for a couple of seconds before he spoke up. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

You smiled up at him. “You didn’t know, it wasn’t your fault.” 

“Yes, yes it was, and you have every right to hate me, okay.”

“I forgive you, Tom, seriously it’s okay.” You laughed as he kept beating himself up. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Y/n.”

“Well, that’s too bad because I’m giving it to you. I…I don’t hate you, Tom.”

“But I treated you so horribly…all the things I did and said, I…I caused you to fall.” Tom’s voice cracked and he looked at you.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not, okay. I’m fine, see.” You cupped his face. “I’m fine Tom. I’m okay.” You didn’t know what made you so bold all of a sudden, but you pressed your foreheads together.

Tom closed his eyes and steadied his breathing to the rhythm of yours. When his eyes opened back up he saw your eyes. Your e/c eyes. They were so beautiful. His eyes then trailed down to your lips. A sudden pull caused him to lean in. You leaned in too. You let it happen. This time it wasn’t to get your book back. This kiss was the real thing. And you loved it. You smiled into the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tom’s hands remained on your hips, but he tugged them forward to press you closer to him.

When you both pulled away you were flushed. Your lips were a little swollen. Tom didn’t dare untangle his arms that were wrapped around you.

“I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to keep making it up to you.”

“Tom-”

“No, I mean it. I was horrible to you, and just cause I’m leaving these small things for you, still doesn’t make what I did acceptable. It wasn’t right.”

“When did you realize all this?” You smiled gently.

“When I made you kiss me that day in the library. I took your first kiss from you. It wasn’t fair of me to do that to you.”

“Who says that was my first kiss?” You smirked teasingly.

“I... I just had a feeling.”

“So you had a feeling that no one’s ever kissed me before. Am I that much of a loser?”

“What?! No of course not, you are so kissable, and beautiful, and you deserve so many-”

“Tom, Tom.” You laughed, cutting him off.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Don’t hurt yourself....” You pulled him in and placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

“I don’t deserve you.” He pressed his head against yours.

“I think you’re a bit hard on yourself Tom. You deserve a lot more than you think.”

“I don't...but you do.” He muttered. "You don't mean that?"

“I mean it.” You closed your eyes letting him kiss you again. This one was slower, and sweet, displaying how each of you felt about each other.

-

Sunday had been one of those days that you never expected to happen. Then again you hadn’t expected Tom to end up kissing you after a week filled with his tormenting and bullying. There was no doubt you were still kind of cautious around him, he just spent the whole weekend feeling guilty. You didn't know what Monday would bring.

Could it be more of his bullying?

Was this just a front so people wouldn’t hate him?

Was he actually trying to change for the greater good?

Did he truly want to make it up to you?

Did he really have feelings for you?

You didn’t know...

-

Monday.

After what happened on Sunday you weren’t sure how things were going to go at school. Your mom had suggested you stay at home, but even she knew that you wouldn’t agree, you were too much of a good student to miss school, even if you did faint not more than three days ago. You were in the middle of putting your books and notes into your bag when the doorbell rang. Your head turned towards the door. You were confused. No one ever really came this early, especially to your house. You walked up to the door and unlocked it. When the door swung open the person who stood behind the door was not who you were expecting it to be.

“Tom?” Your eyes widen in surprise.

Tom smiled sheepishly as his hands were in his front pockets. He shifted from foot to foot, as he grew nervous.

“Hey.” He said as his eyes shined. His stance was curious and timid.

“What are you doing here?” You held onto the door as you asked him.

“I...do you, would you-” He began stuttering.

“Yes?” You smiled. Tom gulped as he noticed you smiling at the stuttering mess that was himself.

“Do you- you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought it’d be a good idea for us- which you don’t have to say yes to. I know I haven’t been the best to you, and it’s probably too early anyway-” Tom rubbed his neck as he kept gesturing to you and what you believed was his car that he was pointing at. Two and two clicked together in your head making you smile at his offer. He kept stumbling over his words.

Just like you had done yesterday, you stopped him before he could hurt himself.

“-Tom, Tom.” You reached forward grabbing a hold of his arms to get his attention. “I would love it if you gave me a ride to school.” You giggled as he looked at you shocked.

Your laugh making his heart melt. “You would?”

You nodded. “Yes, I would. Thanks...” You muttered as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek.

Tom closed his eyes as he enjoyed the sweet affection you gave him. He didn’t want to tell you right away.

“You’re welcome.” He spoke softly as he gazed at you with adoration.

“I just need to grab my things.” You motioned back inside the house. “Come in.”

“Okay.” Tom breathed as he quickly entered after you. He closed the door standing awkwardly, not knowing what to do. He only took a few steps inside your house. The living room caught his eye. A couple of pictures of you and what he assumed was your mom stood out to him.

However, one picture did catch his eye. It was one of you and your mom at the hospital. Tom assumed that this was taken a while back since you didn’t seem to have hair in this picture. What he couldn’t help but notice was the way you were smiling. You looked worn down, but he probably would have never known that by the happiness showing in your eyes. “Chemo.”

Tom was brought out of his daze as he whirled around to see you standing beside him. A grip on your backpack, preventing it from falling.

“What?” Pure innocence in his eyes causes you to smile lightly.

“That was taken at the end of my chemo. It was almost a while ago.” You ran a hand through your short hair. A habit you began doing after your hair grew back. It was growing back slowly, but you were slowly withering away. You didn’t mind it being short. You quite liked it this way. “Hence the hair.” You shrugged nonchalantly while lifting the edges of your hair.

Tom didn’t say anything, he only continued to gaze at you with a look you couldn’t pinpoint. “I never would have noticed.” Tom shook his head slightly. He motioned to your hair. “It looks...nice. It always has...” He smiled genuinely.

"Always?" Your heart melts.

Tom grew flustered. “I uh-” He laughed nervously.

“Have you been secretly keeping track of my hair?” You teased him with a smile. “Since when?”

"Since...middle school." He scratched his neck. You hadn't expected an actual answer.

“Oh.” That was all you could say as you blushed slightly.

Tom glanced at his feet before he looked up at you again. “Ready to go?”

“Mhmm.” You smiled as you placed your hand in his that he extended out to you.

You let go of his hand once you were outside. Quickly locking the door, then taking his hand again as you made your way to his car.

Tom followed you to the passenger side and opened the door for you. You smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled down at you as you were seated inside. He closed your door and made his way to the driver's side, getting in and starting up the engine.

“Good?” He asked you as you finished buckling yourself.

“Yeah.” You smiled.

“Okay.” Tom quickly glanced behind his shoulders. Left then right making sure there weren’t any cars coming, then slowly reversing out the driveway. Turning the wheel and putting the car in drive, you both began making your way towards school.

-

As the weekend passed Harper couldn’t help but feel hurt at the way Tom yelled at her. Sure he was angry, but he didn’t need to yell at her. Feeling like it was her fault that he wasn’t answering any of her messages, she wanted nothing more than to fix things between them. And what better way to do that, than in person in front of the whole school? Harper loved the attention, but she was determined to make you jealous. She was determined to show you who you were messing with, even if you ended up fainting again.

“So what happened again between you and Tom?” One of Harper’s friends asked her.

“Nothing happened Hannah. We just had a bit of a complication…” Harper fluffed up her curls. She pursed her lips and gazed at herself through her locker mirror. “Don’t worry, Tom and I are good as new again,” Harper smirked as she applied another layer of her cherry lip gloss. She popped her lips when she was satisfied with her appearance.

“You guys are great together. Compatible in every way.” Heather fed the beast- I mean Harper with praises and compliments. “Job well done Harper.”

“Thanks, Heather, I am incredibly lucky to have such a great guy like Tom.” Harper bit her lip as flashes of Tom and her in her room popped up in her head.

“Looks like your luck ran out..” Hannah said.

“What? Why would you even say that Hannah!” Harper gaped at her. Hannah only replied by motioning over Harper’s shoulder with her head.

Confused by her words Harper and Heather turned around to see what Hannah was talking about. As she did, her breath slightly hitched. As if her day couldn’t get any worse, she now had to see her boyfriend walk into the building with his hand intertwined with yours.

“Oh yeah, good as new alright.” Hannah mocked her.

“Shut up, Hannah!” Harper snapped at her.

“Hey, you’re the one who said you two were fine. It’s not my fault you can’t keep track of your boyfriend, well looks like your ex-boyfriend now.” Hannah put her hands up in defense.

“Oh no, don’t expect that-” She pointed at you and Tom standing at your locker. “-is going to last. Tom just probably feels bad about what happened on Friday. He can be quite sympathetic sometimes, this is just one of those times.”

“If you say so Harp,” Heather spoke up this time. “Let’s hope you’re right about this. You still need a date to prom after all.” She reminded Harper.

“Don’t worry, he’s going to wish he never held her hand,” Harper smirked evilly as she closed her locker. She picked up her bag and walked in the opposite direction from where you two stood. Heather and Hannah followed closely behind her.

-

“People are staring.” You muttered to Tom as you grabbed your backpack from him. You switched out your science and history books, for your Algebra and Literature books.

“Yeah…” He trailed off as he turned his head towards the lingering eyes on you and him. He frowned as he caught Harper throwing him a scowl before she walked away.

“A-Are you sure you want to be seen with me?” You frowned. Tom looked back at you furrowing his brows at your question.

“Of course I do.” He dipped his head as you avoided his gaze. “Y/n, look at me.” You looked up. “If there is one thing that I am certain about, it’s wanting to be with you.”

“Really, 'cause it's only been two days since your mind changed about how you felt about me?” You whispered, not being able to help your accusatory tone.

“Really.” He pecked your forehead. “Come on now, let’s get you to class.” He smiled as he lightly tugged on your hand. "Come on..."

“Okay.” You smiled sheepishly as you closed your locker. As Tom began tugging you down the hall, you both were abruptly stopped.

“Mr. Holland.” A voice spoke up from behind you. Tom closed his eyes as he recognized who the voice belonged to.

“Principal Johnson.” Tom sighed as he turned around, letting go of your hand. 

“Do you know what today is, boy?”

“Monday sir.”

“It’s Monday! Come on, my office.” Principal Johnson motioned with his hand as he turned around, already heading to his office.

Tom turned to you. “Library, third period?” He asked with hope.

You nodded. “Go before you get into more trouble.” You playfully pushed him. He leaned forward and pecked your cheek before scurrying off after the principal. You blushed as you made your way to your first class.

-

“So Miss Y/L/N huh?” Principal Johnson asked as he fiddled with his pen.

“Sir I-”

“You sure you know what you’re doing boy?”

“I do, I do sir.” Tom nodded furiously.

“Because it looks like you’re trying to use her to get yourself out of your punishment. Like she’s your in, to get on my good side.”

“No, that’s not…that’s not it sir. I swear. It’s not like that.” Tom stumbled with his words.

“Then explain it to me, son.”

“With all due respect, sir…I’m not quite comfortable talking about my feelings to you.”

“Feelings you say?” Principal Johnson raised his eyebrows almost as if in amusement.

“I promise Principal Johnson. I would never truly honestly intend for Y/n to get hurt. I lo- I couldn’t forgive myself if anything else happens to her.” Tom stared at his lap as the guilt still ran through him. You forgave him, but he didn’t feel that he deserved to be forgiven, in such a short amount of time too. He wanted to make it up to you.

“But something did happen, and you were the cause of it.” Principal Johnson reminded him. Tom nodded his head.

Principal Johnson stared at the boy feeling bad. At some point and time, he was in the same position Tom was. So in love with a girl that it ate him up. Willing to do anything for her. He sympathized with the boy.

“Here’s what I am going to do, Tom.” Tom raised his head. “You’re still benched for the season.”

“Right...” Tom sighed.

“And you still need to be punished.”

“Right…” Tom nodded slowly wanting to know where he was going with this.

“So as your punishment, you’re going to be helping out in the Library. Ya know, checking out books, shelving books, that usual stuff.”

“Oh, wow!” Tom perked up as he realized he’d be seeing you more often now.

“Yeah?” Principal Johnson eyed him weirdly but brushed it off quickly. “I’ll let Grace know you’ll be on your way to begin helping her.”

“Is that all?” Tom was surprised at how that went well. “Well, unless you have a better suggestion for a punishment?”

“No, no, I don’t. Thank you for my punishment. I’ll be on my way, sir.” Tom stood up and started opening the door when he was stopped.

“Thomas.” Tom looked back, at Principal Johnson. “Be good to her son.”

“I will...” Tom nodded then left.

-

As he promised, Tom met you in the library after the third period ended. You were buried deep in one of the aisles in the very back of the library preoccupied with your dad’s book.

Tom walked into the library wanting to see you but finding you nowhere in sight. This came to Grace’s attention as she noticed him enter.

“You lost honey?” She teased as she set down the books she was shelving.

“Hey Grace, you’ve seen Y/n?” Tom held onto the strap of his backpack as he shuffled from foot to foot.

“Can I ask why?” Grace already knew what had happened between you two. You told her yourself. She wanted to give him a hard time just for the fun of it.

“I uh-”

“You here to pick on the poor girl because if you are I’ll have no problem calling Principal Johnson.”

“No, no, no…” Tom’s eyes widened as he grew nervous and a little scared. “I’m not here to bully her, I swear. Grace, I swear I don’t want to hurt her. You don’t understand…” Watching Tom become flustered and nervous made her laugh. The sound startled him.

“I’m just messing with you.” She dismissed him with her hand. “She’s in the back.” She motioned to the side of the library you were at. Grace then went back to shelving some books like nothing ever happened.

Standing there stunned and a little nervous. Tom eyed Grace wearily as he slowly took a step in your direction. “T-Thank you.” He stuttered then took off to find you. Grace chuckled as he scurried off.

Tom swore that he was getting whiplash by how quickly he was turning his head left and right as he passed every aisle. “Y/n!” He whispered as he kept going down the aisles in the middle of the two sides of the shelves. He turned his head right, then left, and right as he did he was being yanked to the right side. He yelped slightly as he ended up losing his balance falling on top of you.

You groaned. “Oh, get off your heavy.” You push against him.

Tom feigned a fake hurt gasp as he propped himself on his elbows to hover above you. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” He chuckled.

“Sorry.” You giggled.

“It’s okay you caught me off guard is all.”

“So you were distracted?” You bit your lip in amusement.

“Yeah, trying to find you.” He glanced at your eyes and then down at your lips.

“Well, you found me...” You placed your hand on his neck.

“I did…” Tom trailed off as he lowered his lips onto yours. The kiss was slow and sweet. Nothing rough or quick about it. Tom pulled back, sitting up.

You frowned at the loss of contact. You took his extended hand and as you were fully sat up, he grabbed you by the waist and tugged you onto his lap making you squeal.

“Tom?” You giggled as he peppered your neck with wet kisses. The feeling was nothing like you’ve ever felt before, it was new, and you knew you wanted to experience it more often.

Before things escalated Tom took his lips off your neck.

“Okay, okay, I’m stopping. I’m stopping.” Tom whispered as a smile made its way onto his lips. Tom gulped as he began telling you what the principal told him. “So, Principal Johnson gave me my punishment.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he thought it’d be a good idea for me to spend some quality time with the girl I like in the library.” Tom smiled cheekily.

“Tom seriously, tell me.” You playfully slapped his shoulder.

“He talked to Grace, and now I’m going to be helping out in here.” He smiled as your eyes widened.

“Are you serious? You hate the library though?” You laughed in disbelief.

“Not really. If anything it’s kind of growing on me.” He smiled as he twirled the ends of your hair around his finger.

“I get to see you more?” You blushed.

“That’s right.” He teased. “Get used to me Y/L/N, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“However will I survive!” You smiled as you both leaned in for a kiss.

“Tom!” Tom pulled back, startled by Grace calling out for him.

“Shit!” He scrambled up to his feet. The sight alone caused you to laugh. “Coming Grace!” He quickly helped you to your feet. “I’ll see you later?” The same kind of hope in his eyes.

“Go before you lose it.” You giggled. Tom pecked you one more time and ran off towards Grace to begin helping. You shook your head. Tom was surely something else.

-

Tuesday.

The following day Tom did the same thing. He picked you up in the morning and then drove the both of you to school. Almost believing for a second that things were going to be better the next day was an understatement. People still stared at you two as you walked into school hand in hand. Whispers going around amongst your classmates. Tom, not thinking too much of it, continued to smile at you.

“What do you say?”

“Huh?” You finally realized that he was talking to you.

Tom chuckled and shook his head. “I asked if you wanted to eat lunch together during third period.” Tom bit his lip trying not to let his smile show how much he was excited to spend time with you. When he noticed the worried look on your face he frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tom was not so sure that it was true. “Actually can I be honest?”

“Of course.” He nodded assuring you.

“You have been my crush for a very long time…” You smiled. He did too. “I always considered the possibility of you and me ending up together a one-in-a-million chance. Yet here I am, and here you are. We’re together.” You chuckled. “Our feelings are mutual and it’s the weirdest feeling in the world because you’re Tom, this great guy, and I’m just me, the cancer girl.” You shrugged. “And I never would have thought that you’d actually see me.”

“I’ve always seen you-”

“And now that we’re together it feels like a risky thing because I'm sick and we're from two different worlds-”

“We’re no different than everybody else Y/n.” Tom bit his lip and shook his head. “So what if I want to be with you? I want to be with you, Y/n. What’s the harm in that?”

“My cancer. Your friends...” You glanced over his shoulder then brought your eyes back to his. Tom glanced over his shoulder and frowned as he realized his buddies were watching him. “They don’t control the way I feel, Y/n. You’re the best thing that has happened to me.” Tom cupped your face and leaned in. The kiss was slow, but a little more love felt. When you pulled away you felt a bit upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you just kiss me because you wanted to or because your friends are watching?”

Tom pulled away, slightly a bit hurt by your words. “Because I want to…Y/n I would never do that to you, I promise.”

“Okay...” Your voice grew small as you slowly lifted your head to look at him.

“I don't want to hurt you in any way anymore.” Tom leaned forward and pecked your cheek. “I’ll see you for lunch okay.” He pecked your forehead. You both moved along in the hallway stopping in front of the library. Your hand lingered in his for a bit before you let go.

“I’ll be where I usually sit.” You dazed off.

“Okay.” Tom nodded. “I should probably get inside, Grace needed some help moving a couple of things around.”

“Well, I’ll let you get to it then.” You let go of his hand and began walking backward.

“I love you.” He told you.

“Too soon, Holland.” You breathed out a laugh and finally turned around to walk to your next class. You were never going to make it to lunch.

"Nah...I love you." Tom called after you.

-

When Tom reached the library he got to work right away. Helping Grace out wherever she needed him to. If Tom was being honest, he was starting to enjoy spending time surrounded by books. It even got to the point where he could understand why you loved this place so much. A lifetime of stories right in front of him to read. He could hear your voice, the way you explained the adventure of a good book that you had read.

“It’s about the journey it takes you on. From the beginning, all the way to the very end. It’s exciting.” You’d say. “The thrill of not knowing what’s going to happen next. That has to be my favorite part.” You would end the sentence with a smile.

In a way, your words explain your relationship perfectly. In the beginning, you two didn’t start out on a positive note, but the things that have happened next have been indescribable and one of the best things that have happened. Now all that was left was the rest of your journey together, right to the very end. He was nervous about what the rest of the ride would bring him, but Tom hadn’t been more thrilled about something since the time he landed a backflip. He wanted to continue forward no matter the obstacles that he and you faced.

Tom bit his lip as he smiled at the thought. He wants this, he wants everything. The whole package. All of you. He’s ready!

“So this is what you’re doing instead of trying to get back on the team.” Tom’s hand paused midway as he was shelving a book. The familiarity of the voice had him smirking. Of course, he had the nerve to speak to him now.

“Nice to see you too, Harrison.” Tom looked over his shoulder to see him leaning against the shelf of books behind him.

“Seriously mate?” Harrison furrowed his eyebrows at the brunette.

“What Harrison?” Tom set down the books and spun around to face the blonde.

“What are you doing, Tom? You were the star quarterback. You had the girl. You had everything.” Harrison slumped his shoulders. He shook his head.

“None of it is going to matter in a couple of years? It’s just a position. Harper is just a girl who only wants to be with me to make herself look good. And you’re wrong, I don't have everything. I don’t have everything and I’m fine. You know what I do have though, clarity. Clarity that my friends care more about popularity than being decent fucking human beings.” Tom shook his head and turned around.

“Just like you’re suddenly fine getting all close with Y/n. Have you forgotten about how much of a freak she is?” Harrison chuckled at the fallen expression Tom had. “Don’t you remember our little deal?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Tom brushed off the ache he suddenly felt in his heart.

“Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I go talk to Y/n for a bit.” Harrison pushed himself off the shelves and motioned over to where he saw you walk in. You were making your way over to where they were.

“Don’t you dare, Harrison!” Tom growled lowly, as he shoved Harrison back against the shelves this time while gripping the collar of his shirt.

“Oh, so you do remember.” Harrison smiled amused.

“What the hell man, you’re supposed to be my best friend!” Tom took his hands off him.

“And you’re not supposed to give up your life for some girl!” Harrison situated his shirt.

“What the hell happened to us?”

“You tell me…one minute you're barely talking to any of us, then the next you're off with some girl who was only supposed to be a part of the bet Harper made with you.”

“What?”

Tom and Harrison turned their heads. The voice belonged to you. Tom’s eyes widened so big you thought they were going to pop out of their sockets. He was so scared…so scared that you wouldn’t believe him. And he was scared you now thought the feelings he had for you weren’t real.

“Y/n...” Tom croaked out as he felt tears begin to slide down his cheek.

“I’m a bet?” You muttered.

“No, no, no, no.” Tom made his way over to you quickly. He took a hold of your face in his hands, doing everything he could do to make you look at him. Your expression was dazed, emotionless, and he was the cause of it. “You’re not a bet.” He began hugging you tightly not wanting to let you slip away. “You’re not a bet, you’re not a bet. You’re not a bet.” He mumbled into your hair. Your arms remained at your sides. You didn’t know how to feel at this point.

Harrison watching the whole interaction realized he made a mistake opening his big fat mouth. He’s never seen Tom act this way, not for anybody. Not even for any girl he’s been with. That’s all it took to see that you weren’t just some girl they chose for Tom to pick on. You were now the girl. The girl that would somehow make everything better in his life. His girl. Harrison just didn’t know it then.

“Baby, you’re not a bet. Please, please, believe me, you’re not a bet. You’re so much more than that. You’re so much more.” He pressed a tender kiss to your temple while you remained still as a rock. Your eyes stared at one spot. Tom pulled back to look at you. Your expression remained the same. “Harrison’s stupid, don’t listen to him, he doesn’t control the way I feel about you. My friends don’t understand this, they don’t understand us. But I’m not gonna let them break us. Okay?” He pressed his head against yours. “I’m not going to let them break us.” Tom’s voice cracked as he got no response from you yet.

He pulled you back into his arms. He pressed a kiss now and then into your hair. Tom just held you, he held you until you finally took in his words.

Maybe his friend Harrison wanted to break you two apart. Maybe he didn’t accept you two being together.

Maybe he was lying about being a bet. Maybe just maybe.

It was slow and it was a gentle touch, but Tom felt it right away. A smile made its way onto his lips as he now felt your arms and hands snake around his waist to hug him back. He gripped you a bit tighter, not too hard to hurt you, but just enough to let you know he wasn’t letting you go.

“I love you.” His voice is muffled by your hair but you hear him nonetheless.

“I love you too.” You whispered back as you buried your head in his neck.

-

Wednesday.

Yours and Tom’s morning was almost like a routine now. He’d pick you up, drive you to school, you’d walk in together, people would stare, you comment on it, and then he walks you to class, while he makes his way to the library.

A routine. It remained the same. You wouldn’t change it. You got to see him more often now, and you were grateful for it.

You were seated at lunch at your usual table, and your focus was on your father’s book, but you couldn’t ignore how some of your classmates kept throwing looks and glances your way. You never did enjoy being the center of attention. Let alone the attention that was drawing Harper closer to your table. You placed the book in front of your face, hoping it would do you some good at hiding you, but alas…

Harper reached forward and lowered the book from your face. “I can still see you,” Harper smirked.

“Right.” You chuckled nervously and looked down at your book again. Yet you couldn’t help but look over her shoulder. Heather and Hannah were nowhere in sight - that was somewhat of a good thing, right?

Harper caught on quickly and reassured your nerves. “Oh, those two…” She motioned behind her. “Don’t worry they won’t be sitting with us today.”

“T-Today?” You raised your brow in confusion. "Sitting with us?"

“We’re gonna eat lunch together silly.” Harper giggled, she sat down across from you on the chair and reached down into her bag to retrieve her lunch. All greens, it was probably a salad.

“Oh…” You trailed off, you picked up a carrot, and bit into it slowly. Eating was a nervous habit of yours.

“You don’t mind do you?” Harper gave you a questioning look that made you not want to do bad by her. She played with the straw of her smoothie, and you couldn’t help but glance at the plastic thing and then at her.

“No, I don’t mind...” You gave her an unsure smile.

“Great!” She exclaimed with satisfaction. Harper took a sip of her drink, then stabbed a fork into her salad. “So where’s Romeo?” Harper nonchalantly observed the cafeteria for the tall brunette.

“Tom?” You watched her closely.

“Yeah, who else would I mean?” Harper shrugged. Then she added. “So, where is he?” Harper crossed her hands and leaned in closer.

“Oh uh, he had to-” You stammered.

“Hey love, sorry I’m late, Grace had me put books back into their right place.” You turned around in your chair just in time for Tom to place a sweet kiss on your cheek. He smiled at you then frowned once he realized Harper was sitting in front of you. “Harper?” He threw her a questioning look. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s school, I’m pretty sure we have to attend it.” She sassed him.

“I mean, why the hell are you sitting with us?” Tom took a seat next to you. He placed his tray and bookbag down.

“Oh, didn’t Y/n tell you…she invited me to sit with you guys. Isn’t she the sweetest?” Harper giggled and gave you a smile you knew was fake.

Tom glanced between you and Harper. “You did?” He stared at you.

“I could have possibly done that.” You stared at her.

“Okay then…” Tom eyed you curiously then he relaxed when you gave him that smile he grew to love over the few days. The table grew quiet causing the tension to rise.

“Why so quiet?” Harper blurted out. “Usually you two love birds are so chatty and full of giggles any other day, is it me?” Harper eyed you two playfully.

“Yes.” “N-No.” You and Tom looked at each other with an incredulous look, then you glanced at Harper.

“Well, which one is it?” Harper smiled.

Tom scowled angrily. “Harper, can I talk to you?”

“We are talking, Tom.” You flinched when she said that.

“Outside.”

“I’m sure you can talk to me in front of Y/n, right babes?” Harper turned her attention onto you, but you remained quiet.

Tom got up and grabbed her arm. Harper grabbed her bag in time as Tom began dragging her out of the cafeteria. You sat there frozen not sure what to do. You looked back at some of your classmates who were staring at you. You hid behind your hand and began reading your book again, sinking and lowering into your chair.

-

Without thinking too much about it, Tom dragged Harper into an empty supply closet, locked the door, and pushed her against the wall. But his movements were nowhere near lustful, maybe a bit out of frustration, but no passion or hunger resided within him.

“Seriously? First Harrison then you. What’s next huh? A smoothie gets thrown in my face too?” Tom scoffed, shaking his head.

Harper was too into this side of him. It might have been one of the reasons why sex with him was always great. The two of them just melted together that way. No feelings were involved, just a bunch of pent-up tension needing to be released…but perhaps she wanted more.

“Don’t be silly like I’d ever throw one in that pretty face of yours.” Harper chuckled then threw her arms around his neck.

“But you’d throw one at Y/n.” Tom frowned. He turned his gaze to the wall next to them. “You did throw one at her.”

Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. That’s all she ever heard from him.

Think about me, now.

Harper moved his chin with her finger. Her eyes move from his eyes down to his lips. She licked her own out of sudden instinct. “She can’t make you happy like I can.”

Tom stared at her doing nothing to remove her arms. He didn't know where it came from. It was out of nowhere. One second he was angry with her, then the next he harshly kissed her lips. Harper clung onto his dark hair tugging at it just the way he liked. A groan emitted from his lips.

He pulled her tighter and closer to his body. He missed the way she felt around his hands. All perfection rolled into one. It looked like he couldn’t get enough of Harper, but if anyone could handle Harper it was him. He was the only one she knew that would take really good care of her.

While one hand is gripping her waist, the other starts pulling down the straps of her top. Wet kisses trail down her neck causing a whimper every time he bit down and sucked at her skin. One item of clothing follows one by one. First his shirt, then her top.

“God I missed you.” Tom rasps.

“Missed you too.” Their breathing is labored and raspy. The hunger they have for each other pulls them closer like a magnet. She ends up getting lost in the feeling of his lips, her mind reeling as he sinks to his knees before her. “Harper.”

“Harper.”

“Harper.”

-

“Harper!” Tom shook her out of her daze.

Harper snapped out of it and looked up at Tom who scoffed. “Just stay away from Y/n, okay.” He removed her arms and left the closet. No one in sight to see him leave it. Thank god.

He made his way back to you. You were still seated avoiding everyone’s eyes. You deserved the world from where he stood. He walked up to your table and took his seat next to you. You were pulled out of your concentration from your book once you felt his presence. You smiled gently. “Everything okay?”

He smiled back. A gleam in his eyes you began to notice when you were with him. In some ways, it felt that he looked at you like you were his whole world. No way he’d think like that. Would he though?

“Everything…is perfect, love.” Tom muttered then leaned in to plant a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Okay.” Your eyes crinkled at the edges as you smiled.

“You ready to go?” He motioned to your half-eaten lunch.

“You barely ate anything.” You frowned.

“I’m okay.” He shrugged. “Not that hungry anymore.”

“You don’t want a bite of my sandwich, I got full with the carrots, and fruits.” You offered. Tom shook his head.

“Not even a bit of celery with peanut butter.” You waved the vegetable in his face.

Tom pondered for a second then smiled. He took it from your hand and bit down into it. He finished it in three big bites. He chewed until there was no trace of the green stick in his mouth. “Thank you.” He leaned in to kiss you, but you stopped him by putting your hand on his chest. “What?” He questioned as he saw you stifle a laugh. “What?” He smiled brightly this time.

“You got uh.” You gestured to your mouth. Tom caught on and wiped at his mouth, only to miss the spot he needed to get. “You huh, here let me…” You licked the pad of your thumb and gently wiped away the bit of peanut butter that was at the edge of his mouth. “There.” You were frozen at what you had just done. Tom, on the other hand, couldn’t find the right words to say. You kept doing things that left him rendered speechless, in a good admirable way. He liked you, that much was true, but the way he looked at you right now said something completely different. Was it love that glistened in his eyes? No, it was too soon for that still. Was it though?

You were a bit flustered, your cheeks heated. You removed your eyes from his and turned towards the table in search of a napkin, you wanted to clean the peanut butter off, but couldn’t. You slumped in defeat for a second. Tom took notice and grabbed a hold of your hand. He gently guided it up to his lips. He wrapped his fingers around your thumb, bent his head down to meet the pad of it, and sucked it off. You felt his tongue and the top and bottom part of his lips suck the bit of condiment in one quick go. To you, it felt slower, but it was quick, and he certainly didn’t think too much of it…at least until he saw your reaction. You were dumbstruck, you were caught off guard by his action, not expecting it, but it happened.

“Sorry.” Tom apologized with a sheepish smile on his lips.

“It’s okay.” You bashfully glanced at your lap, then back up at him. “R-Ready to go?” You asked as you began closing the lid on your containers.

“Yeah.” He nodded as he waited for you to put your lunch away in your bag. You grabbed your dad’s book, and he slung your bag over his shoulder. You didn’t bother arguing with him about being able to carry it yourself.

You tried…You did and you lost every time, it was inevitable at this point. You took his extended hand and walked out of the cafeteria and headed to the library.

-

Thursday.

It was after school and you were in your room doing a bit of homework when you heard it. You were trying to figure out a mathematical equation you could not solve. You thought you had it, but your focus was interrupted when a noise got your attention. You didn’t think much of it and proceeded to ignore it until it continued. The tiny clunk of something hitting your window.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

It kept repeating until it grew louder. You pushed your math book off your lap and walked over to your window. You looked out waiting to see if something was there. It grew quiet again and then a sudden bang sounded against your window again causing you to shriek out in fear.

“Ahh!” You jumped in place, then pushed your window up to open it. You stuck your head out and right as you did a small pebble struck you on your forehead. You flinched, raising a hand to where you got hit. “Ow…” You trailed off.

Tom, on the other hand, stood still in his spot. He gaped in shock that he just hit you. His hands were frozen in the air like he was reaching out for you but he was pulling back into himself. His fingers curled into his palm and he brought his fist towards his mouth and closed his eyes at his stupidity.

“What the hell?” You moaned as you looked down at him. He opened his eyes looking guilty. “I’m…so sorry. Oh my god, are you okay?” Tom cringed as he replayed the image of you getting hit in his mind.

“No, you just pebbled me in the face!” You looked at him incredulously. “What the hell are you doing out here?” You shook your head.

“I thought it’d be romantic.” Tom sheepishly gritted his teeth. He shrugged.

“To hit me?!” You furrowed your brows.

“What? No, throw pebbles…at your window.” He scratched his neck nervously. “Guess it didn’t pan out like I thought it would.”

You smiled gently. You then realize the picnic basket and blanket next to his feet. Your heart fluttered at the gesture. He was trying and it was best if you cut him some slack. He did come out here after all.

“I’m sorry.” He pouted. You wanted to reach out and kiss the pout off him.

“We have a front door ya know?” You giggled teasing him a bit.

“I know, I just didn’t want to wake your mom up though.” Tom smiled gently.

“Too late!”

You and Tom whipped your heads towards the window that was right next to yours.

“Tom.” Your mom waves at Tom.

“Hi Ms. Y/L/N.” Tom gave her a quick wave then rocked back and forth sheepishly on his feet.

“Mom?” You whined.

“Shouldn’t you be doing your homework?” Your mom smiled innocently.

“Mom…”

“It’s a school night.” Your mom reminded you.

“When has that been an issue?” You and your mom bantered back and forth. Tom thought he was going to get whiplash by how much his head was going between you and your mom.

“It…hasn’t?” Your mom cringed.

“Great, so I can have the rest of the night off?” You smiled innocently.

“Not all night, you need your sleep.” Your mom pointed out.

“Four hours?”

“Two.”

“What? No, at least three!”

“Hour and a half?”

“Two and a half.”

"Fine."

"Fine!" You sighed and then looked at Tom who had no clue what just happened. “You heard her.” Tom focused on you. “Meet me in the backyard.”

Tom nodded like a happy toddler as he fumbled with the blanket and carried the basket into the yard. He closed the fence and began setting up. Once he was out of hearing shot you looked over at your mom with an unimpressed look.

“Really?”

“Tick tock.” She sing-songed as she removed herself from the window and closed it shut. You chuckled at her actions and went back to your room, closing the window behind you. You pick up your cardigan and put it over your tank top. Your pajama bottoms were too comfortable to change out of. You stepped up to your long-length mirror and gave yourself a once over. You still had your insecurities, even if Tom made you feel like the prettiest girl in the world.

You never doubted that you had something going for yourself. No guy at school seemed to think so, but Tom did, and for some odd reason, you liked his attention. He was cute and sweet, he may have his flaws too, but so do you. However, even if he thought you were pretty or not. He only saw you.

Just you.

He saw you before and he sees you as you are now. That’s all that matters. That’s what counts the most.

You smile and shrug at the girl in the mirror and make your way outside. You went down the stairs and out the door through the kitchen. You smiled as you saw him on top of the blanket sorting and laying everything out.

Tom looked up and he smiled up at you. You were wearing some fuzzy socks, with koala bears on them, your gray Mickey Mouse pajama shorts were cute on you, and the dark blue cardigan was a bit oversized on you. Yet you were still the most beautiful girl to him. Tom leaned back on his hands and tilted his head to the side.

You giggled and flaunted the cardigan, turning around like you were showing it off. You danced in your spot with a teasing smile. Tom laughed as he watched you. He sat up.

“Get your cute little butt over here.” He said with a chuckle. You giggled and ran to him. He looked up and brought you down onto his lap. You sunk as he held onto your waist gently.

His hold never tightened on you, it was mostly a lingering touch. You considered he was never rough with you because you felt he didn't want to hurt you.

You knew he could be though…be rough with you. He dated Harper for crying out loud, you doubted he was anything but gentle with her. It was a nice thing to see from him though. He touched you like you were made of porcelain. One wrong move and he'd break you. He couldn’t though, he couldn’t break you. Not anymore, you were far along from the broken girl you used to be. You fought through it and now you weren’t broken, you were whole, and you were happy.

Tom made you really happy.

You brought your hands up to his face and caressed his skin. The smile he loved seeing on you reached your eyes. You were beaming.

“Hi.” You giggle.

“Hi.” Tom’s eyes crinkled. His voice sounded relaxed. He couldn’t help but admire the light of the moon shining down on you. Lighting up everything he loved about you. He leaned in and pressed his lips onto yours. He pulled back and looked at you again.

You chased him as he pulled back, not wanting it to be over yet. You leaned in and pecked his lips. Tom pulled back in a teasing manner. You kept pecking and chasing him until you cupped his cheeks and let your lips linger on his for a while longer. He didn’t deny you the kiss you wanted.

You both moved in sync, as the kiss got a little heated. Tom removed his hands from your waist and let them rake up and down your bare thighs. It wasn’t long before he brought one hand up to your shoulder and slid one side of the cardigan down. Exposing the thin strap of your tank top and your neck. He pulled back gently and began peppering your skin with wet kisses. Just like back in the library, it was a new feeling that you wanted to experience more of. You sighed as he kept trailing his lips across your skin. You could feel him smile when you gasped. He bit down gently on your neck and soothed it with a lick.

“Tom…” You sighed in contentment as you tilted your head more to grant him more access at your skin.

“Do you want me to stop?” Tom continued to pepper kisses down your neck.

“N-No.” You shook your head. Tom kissed your neck for a little while longer only leaving the one mark on your skin, but traces of where his lips were had lingered. He pulled away and planted a kiss on your lips. You were in total bliss at the moment.

“Why’d you stop?” You smiled gently.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop if I carry on.” Tom sighed as he pressed his head against yours.

“You can’t hurt me.” You shook your head.

“Trust me, I want that with you, okay? I do.” Tom reassured you with a smile. You smiled back but you knew there was more. “But I want to do this the right way. I don’t want your first time to be because you think you have to do it. I want it to be great, and special for you. I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.” Tom frowned.

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to.” You admitted. “Everything that I want to happen is because I’m letting it happen.” You caressed the nape of his hair. “I know you'll never hurt me, and I’m not saying let’s have sex right now either. But let’s not dwell on what we can do in our spare time. Though I don’t think I’d know what to do.” You chuckled nervously. Tom brushed away your hair. “I’m not ready for anything extreme." You grit your teeth sheepishly.

“You don’t have to worry about anything extreme for a long time or as long as you deem it necessary.” He chuckled lightly at your flustered self.

“I just meant making out and stuff, ya know…” You shrugged. “More dates with you.”

“I like the sound of that.” He smiled and pulled you back in for a kiss.

“Are. We. Going to. Ignore the. Food?” You said in between each kiss.

“Are you hungry?”

“A little.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Alright, I can eat.” Without removing you from his lap, Tom pulled the basket closer and opened it up. “Alright we have some chocolate-covered strawberries, thank my mom for those. Some grapes, celery sticks with peanut butter, and a couple of ham and turkey sandwiches. A couple of water bottles, or soda if that’s more your thing.” Tom shrugged as he pulled the food out. Each one looked to die for. “What will it be, my lady?” Tom kissed your cheek as you eyed all your choices. You reached your arm out and picked up a strawberry. You brought it up to Tom’s lips and he gave in and bit into it. He hummed at the sweet taste it created in his mouth. You smiled and finished the rest of the strawberry you fed him. “Delicious.” Tom muttered playfully.

“Yeah?” You giggled and picked up another strawberry.

That’s how the rest of the night went for you two. You fed each other and indulged yourselves in a game of who can catch the most grapes in their mouth.

You ended up winning.

Tom had attacked you by tickling you until you couldn’t breathe anymore and gave in. You made out a bit more, then he had to leave. It was sweet and one of the best first dates you ever had. Well…it was your first date, and you were glad with how it went. You knew for sure you wanted to do that again.

-

Friday.

Harper did not enjoy the way Tom just left her in the supply closet. Guys usually didn’t leave her. She was the one who got the last word in and got to walk off. Tom certainly kept surprising her, first his new attraction towards you and now he won’t even look in her direction. Harper was furious, she was pure fire, and people who played with fire tended to get burned.

She was full of hate and in need of getting some payback, and she knew just how to get it…

You were at your locker, taking your time switching out your books for the ones you needed. You weren’t aware of Harper approaching you so it wasn’t before you jumped when she slammed your locker shut. The action causing your books to fall. You cursed silently to yourself and kneeled to pick your things up. Harper got annoyed and kneeled to help you. In doing so you both went for the same notebook, which had you both bumping heads. You both fell back with a groan.

“Ow…” You groaned.

“Oh…” Harper groaned.

You two just sat on the floor rubbing where you collided heads with each other. It was pretty stupid. Only you would headbutt with someone, literally.

You couldn’t help but laugh at what just happened. Surprisingly Harper joined in on your fits of giggles. She leaned forward and picked up your last notebook. She handed it to you, and you took it gratefully from her hand, stuffing it into your bag.

“T-Thanks.”

“Why do you do that?” She asked out of nowhere.

“D-Do what?”

“Stutter, I’ve noticed you only do that when you’re nervous, or when I’m around.”

“I-” You shut up when Harper eyed you. You were proving her right. “I…” You breathed in slowly. “I don’t know, nervous habit maybe.” You shrugged.

“Do I make you that uncomfortable?” She frowned.

“You don’t exactly make people feel great about themselves.” You admitted.

“Oh…well I’m sorry.”

Did you hear her correctly?

“You’re sorry?”

“I don’t exactly have it easy, so I guess I do tend to take it out on others. Especially you, Y/n.” Harper got up to her feet and held her hand out to you. She pulled you up and you dusted your jeans off.

“Thanks?” You opened your locker once more and grabbed your book. You put it in your bag and looked up at her expectantly.

“So I’m throwing a party tonight since it’s the championship game. We’re going to win either way, and you know how Tom plays football and all, right?

“Right.” You nodded. “Isn’t he benched though…” You trailed off.

“Yeah, his coach isn’t letting him play because he bullied and picked on you. It’s really sad, but he has to pay for what he did. It really does suck though, playing football means the world to him. It’s what was going to get him his scholarship. Scouts are coming out to the game tonight to see their star player…yet he won’t be there because he was benched. Poor Tom. There goes his future. You and Tom should come to the party though, it’ll be fun.” She smiled sweetly at you. “See you Y/n.”

Tom wouldn’t get a scholarship anymore? Oh no…

He never told you anything about that. Was his future at risk because of what he did? You knew he never meant it. Yet it still hurts that he might not be able to go to college because of it.

Harper walked over to where Heather and Hannah were. “How did it go?” Hannah asked.

“Hook lined and then-” Harper chuckled as she watched you walk away from your locker in a rush. “We sink her...”

-

“Principal Johnson.” You knocked on his office door.

“Ahh, Y/n. Lovely to see you. How are you?” Principal Johnson lifted his head with a smile. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?”

“Please take a seat, I’m all ears.”

You took a seat and opened your mouth to begin talking.

-

You were seated on the floor in one of the aisles of the library. Too entranced you almost didn’t hear footsteps running down the aisles. You looked over at the end and saw Tom skid to a halt. He regained his balance and rushed over to you on the ground.

You looked at him with a bewildered smile.

“Hi, there.” You giggled.

“You are not going to believe what just happened!” He rushed out excitedly.

“What is it?” You sat up straighter and set your book down beside you.

“I don’t understand…coach was serious about me being benched. Then again he’s never too serious about certaint hings.” You almost didn’t understand him by how fast he talked. “T-This is crazy!” He smiled brightly.

“Tom.” You laughed, urging him to tell you the news.

“Right sorry. I’m not benched anymore. Coach says I get to play tonight’s game…” He furrowed his brows still not fully aware of how he was allowed to play all of a sudden. He seemed to enjoy the pressure being off him.

He frowned and looked down at his lap. You took notice of his change of demeanor. “What’s wrong?” You scooted closer to him.

“I get to play again.”

“What’s wrong with that? You love playing football.”

“I just don’t know if I want to anymore. Being quarterback had its perks, yeah, but it all came with the weight of having to carry the team on my shoulders. There was too much pressure put on me. I knew coach put on the whole tough love front, but I didn’t like it. And trust me I don’t think I want to read or learn another playbook again.” Tom laughed at the end.

Oh no.

“You don’t want to play anymore…” You looked away from him. You royally screwed up.

“I don’t know. I mean a lot has changed since…” He trailed off.

“Since you’ve been with me.” You looked up.

“Being with you has been the best thing that’s happened to me. It overrules being back on the team.” He grabbed your hand and traced soothing circles on your skin.

“Really?” Your heart fluttered at his words.

“Really.” Tom leaned in forward and pecked your lips slowly.

“I think you should though. Play tonight’s game. It is the championship game after all.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I missed a whole week of practice. I don’t even think they can do that. Let me play.” Tom leaned back against the shelves. Silence fell over the two of you before he spoke up. “This wasn’t my dream growing up.”

“Playing football?”

“Yeah. I mostly did it because Harrison decided to try out. He, of course, convinced me enough. So I went to the tryouts.” He scoffed as he remembered that day. “I was scrawny and still wore braces. Imagine that. Most of the seniors during freshman year laughed at me, but I tried to not pay them any mind. They bullied me.”

“I remember that.” You played with his hands. “They’d push you up against the lockers. They’d hit you.” You frowned.

“They couldn’t hit me hard enough to stop me from joining.” Tom admitted.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too for what I did to you.” He tilted his head to the side to look at you.

“What did you want to do?”

“As stupid as it may sound. I wanted to act. Be in the school play.” He shook his head at the thought.

“It’s not stupid. I could see it.” You offered a smile.

“You’ve never even seen me act, how could you possibly see me as an actor?” He chuckled.

“I can see it.” You shrugged, repeating your words.

“Okay, what about you? What does Y/n Y/L/N want to be when she grows up?”

“Mmmm.” You hummed. To be honest you never really thought about it that much. There was always the fear of dying too soon, that you thought you’d never get the chance, and you had no idea what you wanted to do with your life. “I never really gave it much of a thought.” You continued to play with Tom’s hands. “Getting through chemotherapy, and putting up the biggest fight was all that I really thought about. School and seeing the next few months were only just a second thought.”

Tom smiled sadly as he thought about how hard it must’ve been for you. How a life with you was a 'live in the moment' ordeal. That at some point you'd both have to let the truth sink in eventually. That you wouldn't be with him in the future. That he'd have to continue on without you “Well, whatever you decide to do, you’re going to be great at it.” He wrapped his arm around you and kissed your temple.

The bell rang over the intercom signaling the end of the day. You unwrapped yourself from his embrace and stood up holding a hand out for him to take. He grabbed your hand and stood up, but not before hoisting your backup up and onto his shoulder.

“Are you ever going to let me carry my bag?” You shook your head.

“We'll see.” He gave you a cheeky smile. He held onto your hand tugging you forward as he walked backwards.

-

You both headed home after school had ended. You were sitting at your desk finishing up some homework you wanted to get done. Tom didn’t show up to the game.

He didn’t want to play and you respected his wishes. You were sad that you had practically begged the principal to let him play.

Mr.Johnson was hesitant but after some explaining on your behalf he gave in, now you were starting to think it was all for nothing. But Tom telling you he never truly wanted to play football gave you some ease. You closed up your math textbook and swiveled around in your chair to face Tom who was reading a book you got him hooked on, on your bed.

“We should do something fun tonight.” You suggested gently. Tom put the book down and gave you his attention.

“What did you have in mind?” Tom scooted closer to the edge to sit down in front of your chair. He smiled as he grabbed ahold of the sides of the chair and pulled you forward to him. The chair slid across the floor causing you to squeal.

You smiled gently at him. “Let’s go to a party.”

Tom’s eyes widened in surprise, not expecting the word 'party' to come out of your mouth. “Yeah, we can do that.” He nodded, unsure of himself.

-

Harper raised her pom-poms in the air as Harrison ran the winning touchdown. The buzzer went off and the announcer cheered through the microphone.

“Cyclones win, cyclones win!”

Harper screamed alongside her cheerleaders. They all jumped up and down and then ran into the middle of the field where everyone had surrounded Harrison. The blonde was too excited that he hadn’t seen Harper come up behind him. He turned towards her and didn’t expect her to kiss him. His shock washed away as he gripped her waist tighter. Harper pulled away to catch her breath then she yelled.

“Party at my house!” She smiled as her classmates cheered and hollered ‘yeahs’ and woohoos.”

-

When Harper said she was throwing a party. She meant it… Tom put the car in park and stared up at the two-story house through the window. A few buddies of his hanging out on the front lawn. He turned over to look at you.

“We still have time to change our minds. We can leave. We don’t have to go inside.” Tom grabbed your hand and began rubbing your skin soothingly.

“I’m okay.” You smiled reassuringly.

“Okay.” Tom let out a breath of air and let go of your hand. He got out the door and rushed around to open your door. You smiled thankfully and grabbed the hand that he extended out to you

Tom and you walked hand in hand to the front door. It wasn’t a surprise when some of Tom’s teammates greeted him with a warm welcome or a pat on the back. He hadn’t really spent much time around them, so it was a rare sight to see everyone be so friendly with each other.

A few of them glanced your way. Some raked their eyes up and down your figure while a few of them only smiled and nodded at you. You only responded with a smile and let Tom lead the way into the house. The music instantly blared in your ears. You weren’t used to hearing such loud music, so out of instinct, you gripped Tom’s hand and practically attached yourself to his back. His response to this was to pull you closer and plant a kiss on your temple. Both of you managed to move around and through all the intoxicated and grinding bodies.

It was quite a sight to see. You swore you’ve never seen a girl throw herself back onto a guy before, but there was a first time for everything right?

Harper watched from the top rail that was placed in between the two staircases. She smirked as she watched everyone having a good time. Her parents were gone for the weekend, so everything was going according to plan…well at least until…

“Look who decided to show up. Three o’clock.” Hannah gestured down below to you and Tom making your way through everyone.

“Well, at least we now know why he wasn’t at the game.” Harper sneered and looked at you with hatred.

“Who cares now, at least she got him to come.” Heather perked up.

“Plan ‘get Tom back’ is in motion.” Heather placed her hands on the rail and smirked.

“Now all we need is to separate the two.” Harper stated. The girls paused for a moment to think. A lightbulb had gone off in Hannah’s head suddenly.

“I got the perfect idea!” Hannah smirked. “She won’t know what hit her.”

A few heads turned your way as you held onto Tom. The chatter and whispers quickly happened as you reached the kitchen. Tom kept walking with your hand in his as he observed his choices for a drink.

A beer would have been his go-to drink. A grab and take, but he was here with you. You were at your first party, and if anyone was to get drunk it was going to be you. All he wanted at the moment was for you to have a great time, drunk or not. He didn’t want you to worry about anything else other than your own enjoyment. He was a bit skeptical that you had wanted to come to this. Let alone come to a party thrown by Harper. Her name screamed all over this. He knew you, you were down to earth and preferred to stay inside or go to the park if that’s what you wanted. You wouldn’t have come to this if there was a catch. Right?

You watched as he picked up a beer bottle, and then set it down quickly.

“Don’t want to drink?” You smiled and questioned him.

“Not tonight.” He smiled and stepped up to plant a kiss on your lips.

“You sure?” You furrowed your brows.

“Yes, I’m sure. Why don’t we get you a drink instead.” Tom turned back to the counter and observed a couple of soda bottles.

“Okay, just no alcohol please.” You smiled gently.

“Of course.” Tom looked around the kitchen and spotted the red solo cups.

Perfect, he thought.

He walked over and grabbed one. He came back over to you and poured you a good amount of Sprite. He tasted it first to make sure it wasn’t spiked then came it back to you.

“This cup is your new best friend.” Tom smiled as he heard you giggle. “Perfectly suitable to hide any drink of your choosing, alcohol or not. Plus, it makes for the perfect prop to blend in with everyone else.” He motioned to everyone who was holding a red cup. “No harm, no foul. You have one of those in your hand.” He gestured to your cup. “No one will question you one bit…” Tom caressed your hair behind your ear.

You stared at him thoughtfully. No one would ever go through this much for you. Yet Tom has. He brought you comfort, he made you feel safe. Even at a party full of drunks. You pecked him sweetly on the lips.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tom hummed as he kissed you tenderly.

This time you decided to lead the way. You found a couch that wasn’t full and decided to sit on it. Tom followed your lead and leaned back on the coach. He rested his arm behind your head. You enjoyed being here with him. People were enjoying themselves and the music was good apart from it being blasted through the speakers. The night was great. For the most part…

As far as alone time with Tom went, it seemed to be cut short.

“Yo Tom!” Tom glanced up to see Harrison and a few of his friends make their way towards you. “Tommy boy. There he is!” Tom stood up to greet Harrison. “How are you mate? We needed you out there tonight.” Harrison swayed in place. He patted Tom on the cheek.

“I think you did just fine without me.” Held onto his best friend.

“Come hang with us, the boys are doing keg stands you gotta come do it, man.” Harrison smiled.

“I can’t.” Tom whispered tilting his head slightly at you.

“Pshh.” Harrison pushed Tom out of the way and spoke to you. “You don’t mind if we steal him for a second love, do you?”

“Oh uh, I guess not…” You were about to open your mouth again but Harrison beat you to it. “Great, be back in a sec.” Harrison stood behind Tom and pushed him toward the backyard door.

Tom threw out slight curses at Harrison. “I’ll be back, just stay there!” He managed to say over his shoulder as he was being dragged outside.

“Okay.” He was already far away from a hearing distance. “I’ll be here…” You slumped your shoulders and took sips from your drink. You never knew loneliness until now as you watched people chatter amongst themselves. Tom had friends whereas you did not. You shrunk in your seat wanting to turn invisible all of a sudden.

-

Harrison ushered Tom to the center of his friends as they got outside.

“Guess who showed up boys. Tommy boy is back!” Tom closed his eyes and smiled as people hollered and cheered him on. He looked around the backyard. The party was even more in swing than it was inside. Friends and classmates of his either making out or diving into the pool.

-

“Not enjoying the party?” You lifted your gaze from your lap. It was Harper with a smile on her face.

“Oh no, I’m enjoying myself, you outdid yourself.” You chuckled nervously. Harper gave you a pointed look which caused you to give in. “Okay…maybe not as much as I’d like.”

“Tom ditch you?” She asked curiously. She looked around the room full of sweaty drunks.

“No, he uh…Harrison took him somewhere for a second.” You scratched your head with your finger. “He should be back in a bit.”

“Of course he did.” Harper giggled. “Well, why don’t I keep you company while you wait? Girl time right?” Harper situated herself next to you.

“Thanks.” You smiled gratefully at her.

“No problem. You know I underestimated you Y/n.” Harper leaned her head against her hand that rested against the sofa.

“How so?” You furrowed your brows.

“Didn’t think Tom could get you to come out tonight. You keep to yourself a lot. I thought you’d refuse to go out.” Harper smiled gently. As you gave her your full attention you didn’t notice Hannah walk by and spike your drink.

“He didn’t have to convince me.” You paused as you raised your cup to your lips. Harper eyed you as you drank from the cup.

“He didn’t?”

“Nope.” You said as you lowered the cup. “You invited me.” You smiled sweetly at her. “I wanted to come tonight. I thought it’d be fun.” You nodded.

“Glad you did.” Harper nudged your arm playfully. “The party is just about to get better.” Harper said under her breath.

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” Harper laughed. You eyed her then brushed it off with a chuckle of your own. "You have fun okay." Harper got up and bid you a goodbye.

-

Tom stood with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a beer.

A few girls in their bikinis gave him a flirty smile as they passed him and his buddies. He turned away immediately, already wanting to get back to you. Harrison noticed and smirked.

“You should get with that.” Harrison suggested as he watched the girls walk away.

“Funny, Haz.” Tom shook his head as he sipped the beer he was given.

“Oh come on lighten up will ya.” Harrison patted him. “How about a little competition?” Harrison knew Tom could never resist a ‘friendly’ competitive game of who can down all their drinks first.

“I’m sorry, no.” Tom chuckled, refusing to play.

“Don’t be such a buzzkill. We’re having a good time.”

“Really? Because I’m not.” Tom scowled as he eyed him and the guys. He scoffed and walked back inside to find you.

-

Once he was back inside he instantly regretted leaving you alone. There you stood with your shirt off on top of the table. Dancing to the music. What made everything worse was how everyone was videotaping you. And the thing that pissed him off the most was the fact Harper was the closest one to you and she was letting this happen.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He shoved and pushed his way to the front. Harper immediately noticed him and began speaking.

“Wow, and here we were thinking she was such a priss. When in fact she’s a party animal!” She shouted.

“Shut up, Harper!” Tom growled at her. He looked around the dining table in search of your shirt. “Where’s her shirt, Harper? Huh, where is it?” When she didn’t respond he turned toward you and got you down from the table. Much to your protest. He stripped his jacket off and put it on you.

“T-Tom!” You slurred as he struggled to enter your arms through the sleeves. The music cut off and everyone watched as Tom hurried to button up his jean jacket on you. Once you were decent again he turned towards Harper, and if it weren’t for how close you were to him. You wouldn’t have felt his body tremble with anger. You grew quiet immediately.

“You got her drunk.” Tom breathed in deeply. “Are you serious!” He scowled at her. Harper flinched as she stood her ground.

“She wanted to have fun...” She shrugged. Her tone of voice was innocent.

“No, don’t be so coy. You planned this, didn’t you? You wanted to get her drunk to humiliate her.”

“Hey don’t put this on me, she was the one drinking.” Harper raised her hands in defense.

“Bullshit! She never wanted to drink, I gave her soda, not alcohol. You gave her that!” Tom pointed a finger at her.

“You don't have proof that I did such a thing, Tom,” Harper smirked.

“What do you want from me, Harper? I’m not yours, I never was.” Tom slumped his shoulders in defeat. “The one time I’m finally happy, you decide you want to take that away from me. I’m happy, don’t you get that!” Tom’s eyes became watery. “I’m happy, Harper. Happy. Y/n makes me happy!” Tom glanced back at you with a heartbroken expression then back at Harper. “Get over yourself already.” Tom shook his head. “I don’t want to be with you. I never did!”

“Well, I did!” Harper glanced down in shame avoiding people's eyes on her. She swallowed nervously. Her guilt was building up. “I loved you. Okay, why her? Why not me?”

“That’s just it, Harper. Because she isn’t you! She doesn't get someone she hates drunk just to humiliate her.”

“I’m sorry...” Harper frowned, slowly handing back your shirt with despair and shame. Tom scoffs snatching it back from her.

“Stay away from us, Harper.” Tom wrapped his arm around you and led you out of the house in no time. As you both reached your side of the car, you placed your hands on your stomach and hunched over the bushes. Tom held your hair back and rubbed your back soothingly.

“Let it all out. I got you.” Once he was sure you threw everything up. Tom opened the passenger door and let you sit down for a minute. He opened the back seat and got a hoodie. He used it to wipe your mouth.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered as he caressed your hair back and continued to wipe your mouth.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Tom stared at you. “If anything I’m sorry. That I left you alone.”

“Not your fault.” You frowned. “Can you take me home?”

“Yeah.” Tom leaned forward and kissed your head. You put your legs inside the car and he closed your door for you. Tom got in himself and started the car.

So much for your first party.

-

Saturday.

The following morning you woke up with the worst hangover. At least now you could tell people you’ve had one.

You were expecting your mom to tell you something but she did anything but that. Tom had explained what happened and you barely remember her hugging you. She sent you off to bed. Now you were awake and ready to start your day. You had wasted away the time in bed for a bit before you mustered up the energy to get up.

The smell of bacon and eggs caused you to be a bit queasy as you went downstairs, but it went away.

Tom had come over to watch you since your mom was doing some errands. He smiled as you dragged your feet over to one of the stools and planted yourself on it. You had closed your eyes.

“Hi.” He laughed.

“Shhh!” You silenced him. Your head was pounding.

Tom bit back a laugh. He quickly placed two ibuprofen pills in front of you and a glass of water. “Here it’ll help with the migraine.”

You opened your eyes and saw the pills. You took one at a time and downed them with the cold water. You closed your eyes as you hummed in satisfaction. Tom couldn’t help but find this side of you adorable. He walked around the island and came over to your side.

“You okay?” He pushed some hair away from your face.

“Apart from being hungover…yes I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me.” You hummed in delight as he cupped your cheeks and pecked your lips.

“I’d do anything for you.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Shockingly no video of you was posted online.”

“Really.” You were physically relaxed. "That's good to know."

"I'm sorry about Harper."

"It's okay...can't imagine what she's going through if she feels the need to take it out on someone."

"She shouldn't have done that to you regardless..."

"It's water under the bridge..." You rest your chin on your palm. "Now what's for breakfast?"

"Eggs-"

"Yes..."

"-Bacon-"

"You do love me-" You laugh.

"And pancakes, with possibly some fruit involved." He grins at you, tilting his head.

"Oh, I'm gonna love you forever." You sigh in bliss.

He didn't doubt it. Despite your limited time together, he never doubted your eternal love for one second, that you would, love him forever. That your love for him wouldn't vanish because even if forever would never be guaranteed with you, not truly, not likely. It was your love for him, and his love for you that would remain.

Now that was true and that was the reality of your story together. 

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Our Promise｡⋆.

Jason Todd x plus size reader

There are those in the world who are destined to be- through unimaginable challenges they will find each other, no matter what.

Warnings: tiny hint of star-crossed lovers, I made this long as hell for no reason other than i got really into it, fluff so much goddamn fluff, reader has shitty parents, mentions of convents and being sent away, references to pregnancy and sex, also Jason is totally a girl dad- fight me, some drinking

WC: 2.7k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You could safely categorise your life into three parts- when you met Jason Todd, the day you were reunited and the moment he made your life complete. You found him in the library on the border of Crime Alley when you were both barely 10, the starving little boy and the socialite-in-training. You both reached for the same copy of Jane Eyre but quickly threw yourselves apart the moment your fingers touched. His face blazed deep red under the smudge of dirt on his cheek and nose as you bashfully looked away.

There was a brief moment of silence as he took you in: perfectly clean and pressed pink dress with brand new black Mary Janes before he asked- “wanna share?” You sat side-by-side on one of the large bean bags in a quiet corner of the old building, taking turns reading aloud to each other before being kicked out by the ancient librarian well after closing.

You saw him every chance you could, sneaking away from your tutors just to join him on little adventures through Gotham or just reading together. Jason became your sanctuary, your escape from the cruel jabs of your mother and the cold shoulder from your father. He was the only one to make you smile, and dare you say it but the first boy you fell in love with (not that you could admit it even to yourself). 

Everything was great, for a while but all good things must come to an end. Your father had become suspicious of your continued absence from your vital lessons so he sent one of his many bodyguards to trail you for a while. You were found curled into Jason’s side as he attempted his hand at reading Shakespeare, of course failing horribly. You screamed and cried as the huge brute pulled you away from your only friend, shoving you into a huge black SUV as Jason screamed for you.

The last time you ever saw him was that day as he chased the car down the busy Gotham street before he was left in the dust as you sped off, his voice just barely carried on the wind, “I’ll find you!”. You would never forget the pure heartbreak that his blue eyes held as you were ripped away from him. It haunted you when you were forced onto a plane destined for France and each night you spent in that convent where you would spend all of your teenage years. 

You were shaped into the woman your parents wanted you to be. You were graceful, eloquent and intelligent, smart enough to navigate the intricacies of high society while hiding your true motives. And for that, you were granted a reprieve from the overbearing and downright cruel nuns who had controlled you for so long.

About a week after you turned 21, you were finally allowed to return home, of course under the condition that you were to be presented to the Gothamite society for possible suitors. And what better place to do that than an infamous Wayne gala. Dressed to the nines in a deep red velvet dress that hugged your generous curves like a second skin, you immediately drew everyone’s eyes. But you truly did not care, if it had been up to you, you would’ve been at home with a good book or even in some far off place after having faked your death.

Unfortunately, you were stuck here. So you decided to drink. Saddled up to the open bar, you sipped on the expensive whiskey that was provided by the generous mister Wayne and scanned the crowd. You knew the people your parents wished for you to marry- the uptight men and women who pretended to be good people while actively letting Gotham fall to ruins. 

The thought of being forced to marry anyone at this party made you feel physically ill. You glanced over your shoulder to where well-dressed waiters continuously streamed from a side hall. Maybe you could make a run for it if only someone would create a distraction.

“You know I take great offence when beautiful young women such as yourself aren’t having fun at a party in my home.” A large man slid up to the bar next to you. Dressed in a navy suit with his dark hair slicked back, eyes shining with a mischievous glint, you immediately knew who he was.

“I’m assuming you’re Richard Grayson.” You raised a brow at him and took a sip of your drink. He beamed at you, letting his gaze roam your body before meeting your eyes once again. He slid closer, his muscular body now mere inches from you. 

“Call me Dick. And who would I have the pleasure of spending this evening with?” You allowed him to take your left hand and lay a soft kiss to your knuckles. Your stomach still turned in disgust but less so than when the mayor’s son had attempted the same move a mere 15 minutes ago.

You gave him your name and suddenly Dick stiffened, his face paling. “Y/N Y/L/N? As in the only daughter of the Y/L/N family who’s been missing for the past decade?” 

“The one and only.” You responded with some confusion. Quickly, the eldest Wayne son straightened up, a kinder but somehow sadder smile growing on his face. A strong arm wrapped around your wide hips in a somehow friendly gesture and pulled the drink from your hand. 

“Then I have someone you just have to meet, plus it’ll get you out of this party.” You were wary, of course and evidently it showed on your face because Dick scrambled to ease your nerves. “Just trust me- I wouldn’t do this unless I really meant it. Besides, you can use that knife that’s strapped to your thigh on me if you need. I can see the outline of the hilt through your dress. You need to learn to hide it better.” He chuckled at your wide eyes, using your shock to quickly guide you from the huge ballroom and deeper into the bowels of the mansion.

Your high heels and his black dress shoes clacked against the dark hardwood in sync, the sound quickly drowning out the increasingly soft chattering of the gala attendants until all you could hear were your footsteps. Dick’s hand had now shifted to the small of your back, directing you through the empty halls and up a flight of stairs before reaching the only door with light streaming through the bottom.

He gave you a wink and knocked, opening the door before the occupant could answer. The room was childish, decorated in posters and tacked up photos. An old guitar sat in the far corner, almost entirely hidden by open cardboard boxes, all of which were half-full of trinkets that had only just been taken down from dusty shelves. A giant of a man sat on the double bed in the middle of the room, holding a worn book that had definitely seen better days.

He sighed heavily as Dick opened the door even further, gesturing for you to enter. “What part about ‘I don’t want to see your dumb fugly face until tomorrow’ didn’t you get?” You were ashamed to admit but the deepness and pitch of the mysterious man’s voice sent a flutter of arousal through your belly. Dick just huffed under his breath.

“Well I brought you a present so you’ll have to forgive me.” You sent a furious look his way, missing how the other man raised his head, his eyes settling on your figure. The mattress springs creaked, making your whip your head around.

He easily stood at a massive 6’6, towering over not only you but Dick as well. And with the addition of his whole body being practically made of muscles, he was terrifyingly huge. But you weren’t scared. 

You were frozen in place, stunned by the bright green eyes that started back at you in a way that felt so painfully familiar. “Y/N?”

“Jason?”

——————

It was surprisingly easy for your lives to mesh together again, especially since Jason somehow convinced your parents to let you move into your own apartment (you never wanted to know how exactly he accomplished that). But you never spent any time there- it was abandoned in favour of spending all your time in Wayne Manor, with Jason of course.

Your cheeks constantly ached from smiling and there seemed to be a permanent soreness in your ribs from how hard he made you laugh. Both of you were different, no longer the children you used to be but adults who had been shattered and glued back together so many times that you could no longer tell which parts of you remained unbroken, but you were together and that was more than enough.

You spent days just talking, huddled together on his bed, the large couch in the den and even the roof, although that stopped when Alfred found you one night and almost had a heart attack. And the days you didn’t or couldn’t talk, you would hold each other. Legs tangled and foreheads pressed so tightly together, your noses were squished. It was like you were physically glued together, unable to let go for the fear of losing each other again.

Even the both of you admitted that it was absolutely disgusting (which the rest of the Waynes wholeheartedly agreed with) but you were happy so what did it matter.

Sleep hovered on the edges of your vision as you snuggled further into the heated blanket around your shoulders. Unconsciously, your legs squeezed together as you got comfortable, your soft inner thighs pressing against the sides of Jason’s head. He grunted and assuming you squeezed him too tight, you tried to pull your legs up to fold them underneath you. He grabbed your shin with his right hand, only briefly letting go of the game controller, and forced the soft muscle back against his strong chest where your legs had been dangling. “Stop moving around. You’re supposed to be my pillow.” He mumbled.

You buried your hand in his back hair, scratching his scalp with your nails. “Sorry Jay.” He practically purred as he relaxed back into you, giving a sweet peck to the inside of your knee. The sounds from his video game started up again and your eyes fluttered shut. Just as you were being lulled to sleep by the repetitive sounds of fake gunfire and footsteps, another, much younger voice spoke up.

“I don’t get it.” Damian stood with his arms crossed right on the threshold of the room. His gaze firmly fixed on you and his brother, who sat on the floor in front of you, your legs thrown over his shoulders. “You both are so affectionate to each other and yet you are not a couple.” You just shrugged.

“Friends can be touchy and it’s still considered platonic.” You felt Jason nod against your leg.

“We’re best friends who both had a shitty upbringing. We’re obviously severely codependent so you might as well leave us alone cause it’s only gonna get worse from here.” His deep voice vibrated up the  length of your thigh and you had to make an effort not to squeeze his head once more although this time for a whole other reason.

Damian’s scowl darkened almost comically. “But won’t any partners you have take issue with that?” That made both of you pause. Ever since Jason had come back to you, you hadn’t even thought of anyone else. He consumed your entire being, not leaving space for anyone else. And you were just fine with that but what if Jason didn’t feel the same? Could you deal with another woman in his life?

Your stomach churned at the thought of his arm around someone else’s shoulder, of his lips on their skin, of him sleeping with them. Unbeknownst to you, the man nestled between your legs was having the same thoughts.

His eyes quickly grew dark with a burning fury. Without a word, he threw your legs from his broad shoulders and stood up. He shot Damian a withering look as he strode from the room, leaving you both in confused silence. You glanced at the tween but he held no answers. Before you could get up to follow your friend, he returned.

“Jason?” He grabbed your hands and tugged you violently to your feet. Jason smirked at you with a wink, making your heart skip a beat. 

“Observe demon spawn.” And then suddenly, he was on one knee, holding a ring. It was simple- a gold band with a singular teardrop stone in the centre. The band was scratched and the diamond didn’t shine, worn down with age but none of that mattered because the man you loved more than anything, your soulmate, your best friend was offering it to you with the most gentle smile you had ever seen. The same smile he gave you in that decrepit library so long ago.

He didn’t even have to ask. “Yeah?” He gestured to the ring. You giggled through the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nodded and held out your left hand, allowing him to slip the perfectly sized ring onto your finger. Jason sprung to his feet, immediately taking your face into his large hands. There was a moment where your eyes met and then he kissed you.

Stars exploded around you as the kiss slowly deepened. Jason’s hands moved to your wide hips, tugging you even closer.

“What the hell kind of proposal was that?!” Startled, you jumped apart like caught teens, only to be greeted with the sight of his whole family in absolute hysterics. Tim was obviously the one that yelled given his red face and clearly exacerbated expression. 

The others were stunned into silence save for Bruce who was quietly sniffling into a handkerchief. You and your fiancé glanced at each other, unable to hold back your smiles.

“I had to make sure that she was my best friend forever.”

——————

The last coat of house paint was drying quickly in the hot August sun, giving Jason a chance to sit in the shade of the huge Oak tree in the backyard. The ground vibrated beneath him as he collapsed onto the cool grass, his head falling back against the trunk.

He groaned as he stretched out his long legs in front of him. The renovations to the house were coming along slowly but Jason couldn’t be mad about it considering it was mostly his fault. “Daddy!” A blur of blue slammed into his chest, briefly knocking the wind from his lungs. There was the reason for the delay in renovations.

“Well hello miss Jane! How was your nap?” Eyes identical to his own looked up at him, sparkling with newfound energy. Her dark blue smock dress (the exact colour of uncle Dickie's uniform) floated around her legs as he planted herself on his thighs.

“Was good! Mama let me sleep in the big bed!” Jason smoothed down her black hair which was still mussed from sleep, smiling softly at his 4 year old.

“She was a very good girl, helping me with making her daddy a special drink and feeding the baby.” You practically glided over the lawn, still glowing from pregnancy even though Elizabeth was now three months old. You held a large glass of cold lemonade in your left hand, making your wedding bands glint beautifully in the sun.

Lizzie was dead asleep in the sling across your chest, making Jason’s heart clench with fondness. He took the drink from you, taking a big sip and just barely suppressing a cough. Evidently you had added something a little extra to his as a treat. “Thank you pretty girl.” He managed to get out through the burning in his throat. 

You smirked evilly at him as you pressed a kiss to your baby’s head. “You’re welcome daddy!” She giggled and slid from his lap so she could bolt over to the play structure he had built for her birthday. Jason watched her run off before turning to you.

“You are in for it Mrs Todd.” He growled playfully, his hand curling around your ankle.

“Well then it’s a good thing that the kids are having a sleepover with grandpa B and uncle Dami tonight isn’t it?” You beamed, running your hand through his hair. Your husband nuzzled into your touch, soaking up all the affection you were offering.

Jason Todd was your promise, your life, your everything.

Request: Jason Todd x chubby reader where they’ve been best friend before he was adopted by Bruce but lost contact because he couldn’t find her . One day he came across her again and promised to not let her go so he’s been clinging to her almost all the time, and whenever she hangs out at the manner with his brothers he’s not ashamed to be close to her, putting his head on her lap, or even sitting down in front of her with her legs open as he laid to her front while playing video games with his brothers. His brothers wouldn’t dare to teased him anymore because once they did it, Jason just didn’t care and continued cling to her. One day Damian said something like “they’re acting like a couple but they’re just friends, and it’s absurd” then Jason just casually asked if she would like to be his best friend forever and pulling out a ring which God know how long does he kept it for and everybody in the manor were just too stunned to react as reader teared up and said yes softly. Then Jason kissed her for the first time “Damn, I could do this every day.” “Now we’re best friend forever, you cannot leave me” and started to randomly being cute (as always when he is with her) planning to move to their own house, and telling her how many children does she want and just being cute imagining many little mini me(s). @wittysunflower

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[endwersed]

Hiiii! I love your fic 'feels so good inside' SO much, loss of virginity fics are my <3 I was wondering if you have any recs of other virginity fics?? Thank you and again loved it<333

Thank you so much 💖 I am so glad you enjoyed what I wrote!

I absolutely do have some recommendations because loss of virginity fics are my straight up faves. Reminder to always read the warnings/tags; everything listed below is rated explicit (as hellllll) 🌶

Location Is Everything by LouLa, 8k

Stiles doesn't really care where it happens, so long as it happens.

Rapture, sweet rapture (won't you put your hands on me) by queerly_it_is, 8.5k

Somewhere in the stringy mesh of his overactive brain cells, Stiles is sure there must be memories of what it was like to not have a totally possessive creeper with a leather fixation for an adopted brother.

Shadows and Soda Cans by bloodwrites, 5k

What so many of Stiles' friends forget, is that while he's only human, he notices things they don't. They've got all these supernatural senses, they read fear and deception and arousal and dominance, but they don't look with their eyes. They rely too much on that other stuff, and don't see what's right in front of them. [The one where Stiles knows Derek creeps into his bedroom at night and decides to give him a show.]

Fascination by kalpurna, 3k

Stiles is sitting in English class when the thought first occurs to him. They’ve been talking about the ending of Jane Eyre, and Rochester’s fate, and the concept of disability as punishment, and his mind jumps to Derek ordering him to cut off his arm, and he wonders idly whether the arm would have grown back or, more likely, just healed over the stump immediately, and huh, he thinks with a sudden thrill, huh, there’s no way Derek Hale is circumcised.

Shelter by five_ht, 8k

After the rave, Stiles can't go home, and Derek doesn't want him to.

Professional Misconduct by Calico & Habernero, 8k

Stiles gets a massage. And then some. Alternatively: in which Stiles' mouth gets him into trouble, again and again.

[fizzigigsimmer]

WIP tag game

Rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

The word that @robthegoodfellow tagged me in is... Sleep. I tell you right now, this was surprisingly difficult. You would have thought that I knew in advance and did everything in my power not to start sentences with e's or l's. 😀 But we got there.

Unamed Harringrove Ballet Au

Six-year-old Billy Hargrove watches his father’s beat up truck turn out of their driveway and disappear down the street with an exuberant grin. He had thought his dad would never leave – even though Neil was supposed to have a shift at the factory that morning...

Limited or not, Billy is serious about practice. So serious that he’s still at it two hours later, shuffling his feet to the beat in tandem with the two dancing figures on screen – jumping up with his leg twisted behind his body as he turns and lands. Awkwardly. He sucks in an aggravated breath through his teeth as he wobbles, arms flailing like fire hoses. It’s not anywhere as cool or as coordinated as Baryshnikov...

To B With Love

“Everyone push on the count of three.” Jane urged, biting back a giggle and Will nodded. 

“Quick! Before he’s turned into johnny cakes. One-two-three!” 

The three of them dug their toes into the ground and heaved with all of their might to role the pregnant ewe back onto her feet, just in time for Dustin to come running into their cluster for cover. Big Blue, the lead ram (who was at least shoulder high and had four horns atop its head) knocked into one of the fleeing ewes; thankfully seeming to lose interest in chasing Dustin as the animal climbed back onto his feet...

Even Mr. Clarke, who had encouraged their interest in understanding natural miracles and had loaned them many scientific publications, had just stared at Dustin perplexed when he had tried to explain his theory. But Mr. Clarke hadn’t told Dustin he was being a goose either, or accused him of having too much imagination. Instead, he’d given them a book called Jane Eyre to read because he thought they’d like it. 

“It deals quite a bit with ghosts, and the oftentimes quite human explanations for them.” He’d said with a wink and cheery smile. Max quite liked Mr. Clarke, and the book was turning out to be really good too. Far better than any of the short stories and sermons Ms. Klupp had them reading for class....

While You Were Sleeping

“Pardon me. Sorry.” Steve’s alpha had said politely, like some rich guy in a rom-com with like six degrees, through perfectly white teeth and plump gorgeous lips. To make matters worse, his eyes were blue, and for the first time in his life Steve understood all that shit in the novels about gazes holding hidden depths and secret longings. It was easy in an instant to imagine that the gorgeous stranger he’d just bumped into was as lost in the world as he was, without meaning or purpose. One that he’d obviously find in Steve’s bed, when they fucked the ever living shit out of each other. 

At least, that’s how it would have gone in one of Robin’s books.

Thanks for the tag lovely! I am 1000% sure you have all already been tagged but maybe tag me on your post so I can read your snippits. But no pressure... The word is Book! @dragonflylady77 @adelacreations @a-redharlequin @bigdumbbambieyes @ihni, @chrisbitchtree @medusapelagia @intothedysphoria

[burningvelvet]

More Jane Eyre analysis, this time concerning the Varens family backstory and my theories and opinions on the characters of Adèle and Rochester, as well as their depictions in the 1996 and 2006 adaptations--

In a post I made, I mentioned that Céline Varens (mother of Adèle Varens) was dead, and someone (@thoumpingground, thank you!) replied with how they thought Céline had just ran away with a musician and never actually been pronounced dead. This led me to wonder, because a lot of the criticism and essays I've read repeat the idea that Adèle is an orphan and/or that her mother died, and I myself could have sworn her mother died of consumption or typhus. But no! I went on the Internet Archive and re-read passages about Rochester and the Varens, did a deep reading, and came to other conclusions which totally changed my understanding of these characters. Below I try to untangle and assess this apparently common confusion.

Here are the details I've gathered: 1) Adèle tells Jane only that her mother died, 2) Rochester tells Jane only that Adèle's mother abandoned her. I originally believed that she died after the abandonment, but it seems more likely that 3) Rochester must have told Adèle that her mother died because it was easier than explaining the abandonment. 4) Neither Rochester nor Jane believe that Adèle is his biological child, and no biological father ever claimed her, making Adèle paternally as well as maternally abandoned. 5) After Rochester tells her the story of Adèle, Jane calls Adèle an orphan like herself, not because she believes Adèle's parents are dead, but because she's likening abandonment to orphaning.

I believe that Rochester's probable lie to Adèle is fully in line with his character because the entire plot of the novel largely hinges on his repetitive deceptiveness. His love for toying with the truth, combined with his flair for the dramatic and his passionate feelings of betrayal at the hands of Céline, render it easy to believe that he would've seen Céline's abandonment and infidelity as her being metaphorically "dead" to him. As Rochester often conflates feelings and facts, and continuously blurs the lines between fiction and reality (every other line he's mentioning elves and mermaids), he wouldn't have seen him calling Céline dead as being a complete lie, and this is what makes it more believable to me.

Rochester usually believes his own lies to some extent or is able to justify them. His talent at deception a major attribute (and flaw) of his, as well as something we readers are constantly left to debate the morality of; this is made more complex by most of his lies being understandable or sympathizable, even if sometimes ridiculous. This is what makes him an appealing character.

He imitates a fortune teller on the basis of fortune telling being inherently deceptive anyway (as Jane states). He dons this disguise to break-up with Blanche while uncovering her true motives and protecting her feelings in the process, as well as to try to covertly assess the truth of Jane's feelings and to reveal his own.

He claims to be a bachelor and tries to get remarried because he felt like Bertha had already been metaphorically and spiritually divorced from him a long time ago, if not in actuality. He deceptively hides in Céline's room in order to ascertain what he already knows to be the truth and to convenienly confront her. Céline's larger deception allows him to feel that his own one is justifiable. He also deceives Jane when they first meet by failing to inform her of his identity, but he doesn't assume a false identity, either, complicating this lie as well.

He leads everyone (but most importantly, Jane) to believe he's planning to marry Blanche even after we can tell that he's really planning to marry Jane. This again is a sort of half-lie in his eyes, because he truly did plan on getting remarried to someone.

I also have a theory that Rochester really did plan on marrying Blanche before deciding to propose to Jane, considering that: 1) we're told by Mrs. Fairfax that Rochester and Blanche had flirted before Jane was in the picture; 2) Rochester says that Blanche resembles Bertha, who he said he married because he was attracted to her; 3) it wouldn't make sense that Rochester would go through so much trouble to lead Blanche on solely to make Jane jealous, especially not when we know he had set his sights on Blanche before he knew Jane and prizes constancy in affection above all else; 4) Blanche's character specifically matches that of all his other past lovers (in short, more beautiful on the outside than the inside) which supports the idea that his attraction to her and intention to marry her was actually genuine at first.

In short, all Rochester's lies are omissions or half-truths, always justifiable in his eyes because they're performed to protect himself, or others, or as a method of assessing the truth. He follows an odd set of rules regarding deception, and this is in line with the strong fae/folklore/trickster themes of the novel which many academics have noted. I don't believe he ever deceives carelessly, on a whim, or in order to be purely cruel.

Adèle informs Jane that her mother has gone to heaven, so evidently she has been told so by someone. I also believe his probable lie to Adèle is important because it is more proof that he truly does care about her beneath his reluctance to love her due to her similarity to her mother.

I can imagine Rochester sitting her on his knee and explaining this to her much like he later explains to her in the carrage of his and Jane's elvish, honey-"moon" adventure tale. Despite openly criticizing her and her mother, Rochester still doesn't want Adèle to have abandonment issues, to feel lonely, or to break her heart by ruining the good memories of her mother which she so clearly covets, as seen by her proud presentations of the song, poetry, and dance she says her mother taught her.

I don't know why adaptations haven't banked on these points, since Rochester's relationship with Adèle is one of his most redeeming qualities, even despite his occasional coldness to her. The 1996 version is great because out of all the adaptations I've seen or read about (not all of them because there are a million), it has the most emphasis on Adèle and her relationships.

1996 also keeps the line about her mother going to the Holy Virgin, and we get the impression that she was raised by her mother, whereas in the 2006 BBC adaptation for example, we're shown that Adèle was left to Rochester in her crib, yet Rochester still says Adèle inherited her mother's bad "French" attributes, which from his perspective must be genetic.

All the Rochester's question Adèle's nature v nurture attributes to some extent, but choosing to give Adèle no memories of her mother as the 2006 does kind of changes the Adèle/Céline discourse to being more genetic in basis. In other words, the 2006 focus is more on questioning nature rather than nurture, whereas other versions focus on both, or focus on nurture.

All the Rochester's speculations on Adèle's genetics keeps in line with 19-century anti-French British sentiment, and the increasing Victorian "nature vs nurture" discourse. For 2006 Rochester specifically, this all fits with his interest in biology & nature -- his specimen collection, him helping with Adèle's lessons, his scientist friend, the twin/twin flame theories; all 2006 inventions which clearly have a lot of historical and textual basis. However, in all the versions, it seems Adèle's vanity and "French defects" (as Jane dubs them in the book) whether genetically or socially imbued, exist to emphasize how nurture is just as important as nature.

Bertha Mason and John Reed exist as examples of ill nature overpowering weak nurturing, whereas Jane Eyre and Adèle Varens are examples of undecided nature strengthening in resolve after an upgrade of nurturing. For Jane this was through Bessie, Miss Temple, Helen Burns, and Mrs. Fairfax. For Adèle it was Mrs. Fairfax, Jane, and then Jane sending her to a good school which she says at the end of the book was responsible for turning Adèle into a great person.

But there is also an emphasis on the willpower of Jane and Adèle, as there is for Edward Rochester, who we learn from his account probably had poor nurturing, as he says his father and brother tricked him into marrying Bertha. As an aside: the 1996 version really emphasizes the implication that Rochester's dad and brother sucked, which I agree with, but I think it's also part of the problem of this film making Rochester a little too sympathetic (lol).

It makes sense that in the book Adèle had apparently been old enough to actually remember being socialized by her mother and therefore had been more capable of absorbing her mother's character. Perhaps 2006's approach is more intelligent, as it leaves the theory of nature v nurture more up for debate just like Adèle's parentage is (though Jane and Rochester are decided against his paternity, we have no way of ascertaining it).

I wish we had been able to see or hear more about Céline interacting with Adèle, as it would have explained how Adèle came to love the performing arts and to worship fashionable ladies. In the book, this is essentially her clinging to memories of her mother, which are later replaced by Jane's influence.

Adèle's status as an orphan (if not a literal one, a metaphorical one) is worthy of analysis because it also links her to the (literally) orphaned Jane and Rochester. Their mutual orphanage leads them to bond and form into a found family. Jane blatantly declares this kindredness to Rochester as highlighted above, and I believe Rochester must also feel this connection as shown by his devotion to Adèle, as he explains he took her on because she had no one else in the world (except Sophie maybe, but she couldn't support Adèle alone).

[eyreguide]

Thrilling Tales of the Other Wife

Recently I happened to read a trio of books that all have the same kind of premise - one that is not new to me or any Jane Eyre fan - romances where the wife of the hero is still in the picture.  Obviously I am drawn to these types of stories because of my love of “Jane Eyre”, but I found it interesting to think about how these three different books approach this type of narrative.  All three books are also thrillers which creates another fascinating way in which they exhibit similarities.  With my love for this type of tale, I wanted to break down the commonalities in the stories and my thoughts on how the author crafted a believable modern story where the forbidden aspect of a romance with someone else’s husband is not dangerous just because of morals and societal rules. 

The three books I’ll be talking about are “The Wife Upstairs” by Freida McFadden, “Verity” by Colleen Hoover”, and “The Wife Before” by Shanora Williams.

I will try to talk about these books in general terms as they are thrillers and they do have some twists in the end and I don’t want to spoil that for anyone who has not read the book.

Updated Woman in the Attic

For a modern day take on the forbidden aspect of a previous wife in a romance, both “The Wife Upstairs” and “Verity” have similar approaches - the wife is very ill and mostly quadriplegic.  Similar to Bertha, this keeps the wife unable to truly interact with the heroine and serves as an opportunity for the heroine and the hero to become closer.  With McFadden’s book there is an extra level of immorality because the heroine is the caregiver to the wife, so she does have a relationship with her.  

In “The Wife Before”, Williams opts for the “Rebecca” as I inwardly refer to it - the wife died, but her presence in the minds of the people who knew her live on.

All three methods are great at serving their purpose.  While in “Jane Eyre”, the reader doesn’t know about Bertha while Jane and Rochester are falling in love, having the reader in these books know that the wife is still present, in their ways, while the hero and heroine are falling in love was a great way to build suspense and foreboding.  Of course with that, the authors needed to make their heroes sympathetic because they are (at least the two are) technically cheating on their wives and seeing that the wives are unable to fight for their husbands is just terrible.  But there is a way around that!  It is in villainizing the wife.

Getting to Know the Wife

The really interesting aspect of all of these books is in trying to find a way for the reader to get to know the wife, when all of them are basically incapable of communication.  In all three books we get journals written by the wives and discovered by the heroines of the story. How convenient.  And all three journals paint a picture of the lives of these women before their tragic accidents. 

I love how all three books were different yet similar in the ways in which they told their stories.  There is the whirlwind romance between these wives and the hero which paints a picture to the heroine of a happy life, and then darkness falls - some jealousy, some irrational behavior, and more importantly, something is dangerous about the husband.  All things that I feel echo the relationships in “Jane Eyre”. And yet I felt a little bit differently about these womens’ stories in each book.  

In McFadden’s book, the wife’s journal paints the husband as arrogant and abusive, begging the question of why did the wife stay with him?  Every reveal of her journal had me wanting the wife to exit the marriage NOW, and it was so annoying how eagerly she would explain away every red flag.  Not to mention the actions of the heroine reading the journal, and also making excuses for what she is reading.  It’s a bit of a plot quicksand to try and justify why these heroines would stay with a man when you know so much about how he treated his wife. On the surface, it seems like you should trust these accounts from the wives more than your personal interactions with them because these journals should be the truth.  

In Hoover’s book the heroine also annoyed me in how dismissive she was of her valid reservations and the way she would disregard some of the things she’s seen.  The journal does paint the hero in a more sympathetic light though, as the wife is revealing her “true” feelings and she is not who she seems..  

With Williams’ book I felt much less annoyed with the heroine. She is already married to the hero as well, so it is more understandable that she would want to make the relationship work.  And despite the things she may be reading in the journal, she should communicate with her husband to try and work things out.  Oh but she doesn’t actually do that because the suspense of what is going on needs to be kept up.  Oh well.  

There is one other aspect to this found journal concept that really annoyed me, but had to be in place for a novel-length story.  The fact that all the female protagonists took their time in reading the journals.  And made a lot of decisions based on only reading part of it.  If this was me, i would binge the whole book, and then make important decisions about the hero’s actions when I had ALL of the information at hand!

“Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know”

The last aspect that all three books needed to incorporate into the story is making the Byronic hero a serious danger.  Are the husbands guilty of sabotaging their wives?  Have they killed other characters that are mentioned in the book?  Do they really love the heroine or do they have some ulterior motive?

It makes sense that there is mystery in the hero’s actions and intentions, but as a stalwart Mr. Rochester fan, I was more than rooting for the hero of these three books to be worthy men.  This last aspect is ultimately what affected my feelings about the story.  Finding the justification in these men’s actions impacted my enjoyment of the book and how well I thought the author brought this kind of story to life.  But I don’t want to say too much since I want to keep this post spoiler-free.

Endings

I did have some strong feelings about all of these books, and I wanted to share some quick thoughts on how I would rank them - as a fan of the framework from “Jane Eyre” that is reimagined in these books.  

“The Wife Upstairs”: The heroine in this book made me the most agitated while I was reading - her lack of critical thinking skills frustrated me, and the lack of self-preservation the wife exhibited in her journal had me nearly throwing the book across the room.  However, I will say the ending was probably the most shocking out of all three.

“Verity”: I did read this one just after reading “The Wife Upstairs” so I feel like I was a little over the story as it was so similar to McFadden’s book.  There were similar amounts of frustration, but the wife’s journal was very different to McFadden’s take, and I think in some ways this made me dislike “Verity” more.  The way in which the wife is portrayed is quite polarizing.  

“The Wife Before”: I felt like there were aspects of this story that I enjoyed much more than the previous two. There was still a sense of frustration with some of the characters and the lack of communication, but I understood where the heroine was coming from.  The twist was much more “out there” than I was expecting, but I appreciated that the author had a fresh take on the plot device.

[alatabouleau]

German terms of endearments for your fic

.Now, it's been two years since I've fallen into the X-Men/Cherik-fandom and one thing that I have seen continuously is people trying to find terms of endearment in German for Erik to use for Charles (or his mother for him). (I've lost count of how many times I've seen the word "Liebling" spelled wrong) And honestly, no offense. I know it's hard writing a character who speaks a language you don't. And obviously, you're gonna make mistakes. So I thought I'd share my knowledge as a mother tongue in German and let you know some of the most common ways we described our loved ones. ;) DISCLAIMER: I am but one single person, grown up south-east from Berlin, I DO NOT speak for the whole of Germany, nor do I ever intent to, especially since we are anything but a cultural monolith. Just keep that in mind while reading. ;)

Exclusively romantic terms: - Liebste (fem.)/ Liebster (masc.) : literally means "most loved". Closest English equivalent is probably "love" or "beloved". Bit old-fashioned. Makes you sound like a 20th-century-gentleman. ;) Make sure to write it "I-E" NOT the other way around! It would make the opposite sound. - Geliebte (fem.) / Geliebter (masc.): literally "beloved". Makes you sound even older, like Jane-Eyre-19th-century-old. Again, I before E. - Süße (fem.) / Süßer (masc.): literally "sweetie" (I KNOW this is probably now confusing, but trust me.) This is where we get into the... sappy side of German. Like, there are some mid-forty/fifty-couples who use that, but the rest makes it probably just cringe. (I know I am right now really helpful by starting with those that are not really modern, but I've seen this used because people translating English terms so I just wanted to say it here.)

Terms for both romantic and parental love: - Liebling: literally "darling". Classic, neutral, always the safe option for every situation. (I before E ;) ) - Schatz: literally "treasure". Again, safe option, though this leans rather to the romantic side, but can be used for children either way. And then of course, some animal pet names may be used for either children or romantic partners, but honestly, I don't know any couples who do that. So, those will go into the parental category, I'm afraid.

Terms for children: -Spatz: "sparrow". That's what we basically use as "sweetie". You can also use the diminutive "Spätzchen" for either toddlers or said by grandmothers. -Maus: "mouse". same thing. Diminutive is "Mäuschen". Tendency in usage for girls, but can work for either gender. (This is what my Mom still calls me sometimes even though I'm already 22! XD) -Motte: "moth". This is now really rather for girls, and rather those whose names start with M. -Krümel: "crumb". Not used by many, rather comes from the North, also rather used for unborn children in the womb. -Fussel: "fluff". Also not that common but can be cute in my PoV. :) -Hase: "rabbit". Diminutive is "Häschen". This one's rather for boys in my experience.

And then again, at the end of the day, expressions of affection are personal and as we get more personal in German, we tend to use our respective dialects. Yes, there are actually quite a many dialects for our relative "small" country. Around 30, to be concrete. Though they are all decreasing in being used, sadly, as we get more and more globalized and mobilized. However, here are some examples that I know, my knowledge being utterly limited as I am only one single person from the region south of Berlin:

-Kleene (fem.) / Kleener (masc.): "little one". If you ever have a character originating from Berlin or south of Berlin, this can be used for children. -Meechen: "girl" in the dialect of the region called "Lausitz" around the border of Brandenburg and Saxonia. Also for kids. -Schätzelein: diminutive of "treasure" in Colognian dialect. Romantic in nature, though it can also be used in a way like hairdressers in American movies sometimes call their customers "sweetie". (please, if there's a person from Cologne here, correct me on that!) -Liebchen: "darling" or "beloved" in Saxonian dialect, I believe. Rather used by old couples. -Min Dern (fem.)/ Min Jung (masc): "my girl/boy". Northern dialect. In the region around Hamburg, if I remember correctly. Used for kids.

That's it for the moment. I will probably add to this list whenever I learn some new, but I hope this is already helpful for some people. Have a great day! :) Also, if to other German mother-speakers, feel free to share your perspective, correct me if I did put something in the wrong region or enlighten me with other words.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Okay, you know how you say that Austen and Gaskell are seen as similar because they both have a similar approach to virtue running through their works? Would you say the same applies to Anne Bronte (the sister I've seen argued to be closest to Austen)? Or is the similarity between them just that they both aim for realism over melodrama and the deeper similarities aren't there? (I haven't read Anne Bronte in years, but the question just came to me and I figured maybe you'd have something to say about it.)

Hi!

This is actually something I have thought about a lot! But I don't have a conclusive answer as of yet.

Anne Brontë seems to be mostly... on a lane of her own? While -or-because she shares things with Austen and Gaskell and her sisters too.

If there's a link between Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and Tenant, it is the importance of mercy and forgiveness. In Jane Eyre it is the necessity and heroism of radical forgiveness -redemption depends pretty much exclusively on God's power to touch the person and change them. In Wuthering Heights you get the picture of life without mercy or forgiveness, and the intensity of misery and destruction it causes; mercy, forgiveness and metanoia are seen vaguely as anything from personal choice to natural development (I don't think Emily is interested in that part, really).

In Tenant these are more to the background, but ultimately necessary. Helen must be forgiven and forgive herself for her bad choice of a husband, Gilbert must be forgiven his youthful pride, anger, and player attitude, in order for there to be a happy ending to the story. But in both cases atonement must happen as a conditio sine qua non to forgiveness. Only God forgives unconditionally, without repentance or atonement; Anne's universalism comes across strongly like this in Arthur's protracted agony. Not even Arthur will be damned, even if it means his spending till the end of time suffering purification.

It is these two things, I think, that approximate her to, and distance her from, Austen and Gaskell. Anne Brontë is concerned with morality in the sense of making good and bad behavior a very important part of her narratives, which is something Charlotte and Emily Brontë are not interested in much, but that is very important to Austen. How each approaches this issue is different, however. Austen builds an ideal of the gentleman/gentlewoman as accomplished forms of humanity, acquired through virtues, and the moral narratives of her stories are explorations of what those virtues mean (sense, constancy, generosity, patience, etc). Anne Brontë, to me, seems more interested in the circumstances that favor or hinder goodness. For her a life of work, a life of connection with the land, are extremely influential factors in a person's inclination to goodness and ability to reform. That's what sets Hattersley apart from a guy like Grimsby. Austen might share some of the idea that London and Bath are corrupting places (notoriously in Mansfield Park) as a general thing, but their relevance to the moral make-up of people is not that significant.

Religion is more explicitly important to Anne that it is for Austen, and in that way she's closer to Gaskell, and both are also universalists, but I feel Gaskell is more agnostic about it. Where Anne is positively convinced that all will be saved one way or another, Gaskell tends to evade the issue to focus more on what a person's religious beliefs do to their moral worldview, and in that way her moral preoccupations are highlighted in this aspect too. Because of this also is that I feel Gaskell has a richer perspective of the communities and the relationships that conform them; Anne tends to have a more atomized perspective, closer to Charlotte and Emily's (this difference likely defined by their respective upbringings and life experiences).

These would be the reasons why I'd ultimately exclude Anne from the tradition-thread I think there is between Austen and Gaskell (emphasis on virtues as framework for ethics and morality, centrality of friendship) but she's also... not that significantly far off? Certainly her good characters are virtuous characters, but I don't think that is the way she understands them. Gilbert's friendships with Helen and Eliza are relevant to the plot and influential to his character, but they seem to exist as preambula to romantic relationships, and other friendships that are present in the text are much more loosely conceived (one wouldn't think of Frederick and Gilbert or even Helen and Milicent as friends in the way Darcy and Bingley or Wentworth and Benwick are).

Ultimately to me it is a case of "sort of there, but not quite". However, as I said at the beginning, I'm not fully convinced, and I welcome argument one way or another wholeheartedly.

P.S.: I do agree that Anne's prose feels close to Austen by its trim-ness (something Gaskell doesn't possess; she's definitely more florid and closer to Charlotte Brontë that way) and that her characters are built in a similarly typical way (they are traced in a sort of impressionist way as types, but closer inspection reveals greater nuance).

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

hey!!!!! i found this account recently and your info dumps and rants about poto are so based!!!! (coming from a high school student who loves gothic literature too).

what do you think about phantom of the opera attempting to defy tropes and cliches of the romantic era? considering that when gaston leroux wrote it when the era was coming to an end i’d like to think he said fuck it. and crafted poto to be a mockery of those romantic stereotypes ESPECIALLY with christine’s complexity and many facets …. what do you think? could be a really interesting thing to explore!! i am getting wayyy too deep

Lord, I'm not sure if I should be pleased or concerned that a high school student is describing my opinions as based at my age, but thanks. I had a high school PotO phase (naturally) and I've often reflected on how annoyed I would be if I had to face the current Discourse(tm) at that age. And also imo (naturally) there is no "too deep."

I do think that there's a lot to the idea that PotO is very much of its time. That is--it's so definitely post Romantic.

I wrote this in two separate sessions so I probably repeat myself, but:

have an essay, anon!

I don't think it's a mockery of the tropes as much as it is putting a bunch of the tropes in a blender. At the end of an era you have all these very familiar tropes to work with, so you can get weird about it. The audience already basically knows what to expect, so they're on familiar ground. Then you can fuck with them a little to make it your own.

It's like anything else going through phases: you get some critically claimed zombie shit (Romero's work or the walking dead first season) and then as time goes on people iterate and stunt on the genre so you get increasingly weird premises (what if zombies but mushrooms?) (what if zombie but stalker?) of varying degrees of seriousness and quality.

I'm not familiar enough with Gaston Leroux's other work, but I've read at least two scholarly pieces claiming that Erik is not just a mash up of established characters, but of mash up of Gaston's Leroux's own characters from other novels, specifically. So that's why some of his skillsets make no sense paired together: it's just a bunch of guys in there, wearing a trench coat full evening dress. And as a writer, I totally get this urge. "This guy was cool in this book, why not put him in this other book? Also he has an entirely new profession now. He went to trade school in the meantime or some shit."

Christine, though! This is trickier for me and shows my hand. I don't think I can as confidentially and easily toss off opinions about female characters in the Romantic and post Romantic eras. I'm going to reason through this as we go along. I have no idea what my conclusion is going to be because I have to check some dates first. I will give you my personal final answer for why Christine is as she is at the end, regardless.

So on one hand you have Frankenstein's Elizabeth in 1818, who, as far as I know, nobody is writing think pieces about. She's there, she's pretty and soft and good. She inspires Victor to think nice boy thoughts. Unless you know that first draft Victor was more explicitly modeled on Percy Shelley, you'd never know that first draft Elizabeth was based on Mary Shelley, because Elizabeth is almost a non-entity, while Mary Shelley was cool as fuck. Elizabeth is mostly there to be fridged--which I'm not necessarily against, because death and the maiden and blah blah blah and pretty dead girls is a horror genre motif specifically because people find it so tragic and moving. But also, like. Nobody's out here going, wow! Elizabeth! What a compelling female character! and if I did hear anybody say that, I would press x to doubt. Frankenstein is one of my favorite works of literature and I couldn't even remember Elizabeth's name for a solid three minutes.

But then, in 1847, you have Jane Eyre. And I don't know about you, anon, but I love Jane Eyre, and I love Jane. I was absolutely sitting there in AP Lit going "omg I'm such a Jane" and lusting over middle aged men. I think it's funny and great that it's taught in schools for that reason--Jane is basically your age when you read it! She's so relatable! She's whip smart and she's proud and she's struggling! What teenage girl isn't full of anguish and pride and internal screaming! People do write think pieces about Jane, as they should. And then, in 1897, you have Dracula. Which means you have Mina. And is anyone on earth arguing that Mina ISN'T great? She is also pure and good and blah blah--all the examples on this list are good girls and we'll get to that in a second--but she is, like Jane, very smart. She's using the cutting edge technology of her time! She's brave and clever and willing to fight against fucking Dracula. Mina rules. When I first read your ask, my first instinct here was to be dismissive of the idea that Christine is the result of rebellion against her era, because I specifically thought: well she's basically a Mina, isn't she? So not innovative at all. BUT. I think my first instinct was wrong, actually. Or at least: taking a lot for granted. Looking at the dates for the gothic classics I rattled off the top of my head--there's a progression there, isn't there? They're all Good Girls but the good girl gets smarter and more competent as time goes on. And Mina is cool but still part of the ensemble. Christine often gets co-billing with Erik or she's outright considered the main character. She gets a much bigger piece of the story pie.

And I think Christine is more emotionally nuanced than anyone else on this list. She's deftly navigating class differences (calling Raoul on his shit) (Mina never does that I recall--Jane does but that is central to her circumstances) and she's well aware of Erik's horror (you know, his everything) but book Christine is more emotionally savvy than most modern day readers in that she understands that Erik is to a great degree a product of his environment. I hate that people these days view Erik as a bad boyfriend metaphor. He's not. He is, as the book tells us over and over, a monster. And also…very human. And the way those things collide and what that means is the point of the book, and maybe the ending is too tidy but that the book has a happy ending is imo almost solely Christine's doing. Sure, the dagora and Raoul are doing stuff. But they might as well be mice in a fairy tale giving the dispossessed princess (and main character) advice on how to sort wheat in the moonlight or whatever. The person directly confronting the monster is Christine. And the person that grants him grace and thereby humanizes him…is Christine. Only Christine has this alchemical power in the novel. The dagora's been humanizing Erik for DECADES of in story time and apparently this hasn't accomplished shit. Furthermore, Christine's power here isn't something that Erik grants her because she doesn't humanize him with the Power of Music or whatever. It's her parsing things out and making choices. Christine's empathy is not a gift that Erik gives her; she has it from the start.

But it's a little tricky, right. It's too tidy. I'm letting it be tidy for now but as you know--I assume if you've been floating through my poorly tagged rants--I view PotO pretty exclusively through a monsterfucking lens and Christine might be the hero, but we, the audience, are supposed to identify with Erik and all that is monstrous in ourselves.

(have a tag mini essay about it here.)

but whatever! that's not the question!

The question being, as I understand it: is Christine's characterization in particular a reaction against the artistic context of Leroux's time?

and…yes and no?

Like if we look through our cherry-picked examples, there is a CLEAR progression in female character work. But these are stand outs and not necessarily representative. They are classics for a reason. And I suspect we can't forget genre here. Enduring gothic horror is pretty much always transgressive in some way. So a progression that we can track in THIS genre doesn't necessarily mean society or art on the whole was on the same track, let alone at the same pace. I would defer to the kind of weirdo that has more expertise than me here--the kind of person who deliberately reads forgotten or unclaimed period literature. Someone who really gets the artistic context of the time, not just the classics.

How much of that is Gaston Leroux on purpose, though, right? That’s more of what you mean, I think, and that’s what I should be answering. If I rephrase it to: do I think Christine is written that way on purpose? ABSOLUTELY, yes.

HOWEVER

I have a much simpler reason I think Gaston Leroux wrote a great female protag in 1909. And that is: Gaston Leroux fucks. As in, very literally went through a messy lady's man, spend his inheritance in brothels phase.

You might think I mean that in a bad way, but no. The right kind of personality doing this is someone who meets to and talks to a bunch of women. And if it's a man who happens to view women as people--and also views sex workers as human--a dude can come out of this phase really well rounded. Or: not every guy who goes to the strip club is a loser or a misogynist.

You are too young to remember this, anon, but [crone voice] time was, people thought Joss Whedon was a feminist writer. I got myself kicked out of TWO different feminist clubs in undergrad because everybody loved Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I was an asshole who said "Buffy the Vampire Slayer is shit." Or rather, it's fine, it's fun, but I don't view it as a feminist work and to me, Whedon was so obviously always a creep and none of his female characters ever resonated. (in all fairness to both undergrad clubs: I was an asshole. And I was very young, and I was frustrated by not having the language for what I meant yet. But my issues with Whedon could fill many other posts.)

There is a type of male writer that I describe as: this man has never talked to a woman in his goddamn life.

And that's not literally true; it's impossible for it to be literally true.

But I think it is basically true in that you have men who never talk to women unless they're trying to fuck them and even then only ever talk to them as vending machines they expect to spit out a fuck token if they hit the right word count. And it shows in their work! it shows! people are always surprised when a Louis CK type ends up with sexual misconduct accusations. people seem to think only Chads are predators. no! no no no no. The Neil Gaiman shit coming out recently, do you know who was surprised? NOT ME.

Which isn't to say you can't trust nerds ever. Nor am I saying that every man who blows his hereditament on hookers and blow is gonna be the kind of guy who actually has conversations with women.

What am I saying here? I am saying that I think Gaston Leroux was probably a pretty cool dude. He wrote Erik incredibly sexy despite literally everything and he wrote Christine brave and resourceful and willing to talk back to her pretty boy nobility love interest. That dude hung out with women. I am SURE of it. I do not think anyone could write a character as enduring as Erik, as bizarrely romantically and sexually appealing as Erik, without understanding what (some) women want, what (some) women like.

but here's something you didn't ask about--I called all these female characters good girls, right? And interestingly, arguably, both Mina and Christine have bad girl counterparts. Or Lucy isn't exactly a bad girl--until she's a vampire--but her three proposals a day are presented in contrast to Mina's already settled engagement. And Christine's story opens with Sorelli!

(I fucking love Sorelli)

Sorelli, who is Phillipe's mistress and carries a knife everywhere! GOD I LOVE HER. where was I.

anyway, good girls.

The ingénue.

I read The Phantom of the Opera for the first time when I was nine years old. I had to use my mom's paperback merriam webster dictionary to look up the word ingénue. I don't remember what I read but I remember very distinctly thinking: ah. not me, then.

which is an INSANE thought to have as a 9 year old!

but 9 year old me was right. by that point my family had lived in not one but several war zones and we had specifically been on a cartel hit list. I had seen people jump off a suicide bridge by our apartment.

The adults in my life, possibly because they were stressed out from living in a war zone, were all deeply committed to fucked up behaviors so that young me lived in a particularly gory telenovela. I knew what bombs sounded like and what gunshots sounded like and what bodies in the street looked like.

I had a shit and deeply weird childhood for reasons beyond all that, too, but the point is that I'm always arguing about this story with people from a certain kind of comfortable background that I just don't have. Didn't have, even at the time. I do not remember childhood as an idyllic time, as Bill Watterson once said.

so if you read PotO and you're not Christine

and you're not Raoul, because Raoul is a good girl except he's a boy and also rich and actual nobility, so therefore even less relatable

then who are you?

if you're weird and haunted and already feel different and other than your peers (and your peers can tell that there is, in fact, something wrong with you) (even if it's not your fault) and you read this book, who are you?

You're Erik. as stupid as that might sound. Even if you are, say, cute and small and nine years old.

and then, once I was older, once I re-read it and watched the 2005 movie and generally rediscovered the story post puberty, then I was like: oh my god he's HOT he's been hot this WHOLE TIME.

my initial reaction, even as a child, was sympathy and empathy and it is fuckin wild to me, my dude, that people keep reading this story in this day and age and they instantly align themselves against Erik because Erik is so immediately other. He immediately becomes a cipher for things they find monstrous. I genuinely feel there is some Jungian shadow shit happening here but it also makes me feel terribly cynical and un-ingénue all over again that people think Erik is about male entitlement or toxic relationships. It's always ERIK: SYMBOL OF BAD BOYFRIEND. and like, honestly? honestly? drives me fucking insane for reasons beyond the obvious, too. HOW COMFORTABLE ARE YOU IF YOUR ONLY CONTEXT FOR MONSTER IS TOXIC ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP?

not that, say, DV won't fucking kill you. but that's not even what most of the anti Erik crowd means. my point is merely that there are many more types of trauma, and many more types of monsters.

[also yeah planning to blow up an opera house is straight up evil, though. no excuses for mass murder events.]

But back to Erik—not that you even asked about Erik—I truly believe that there is a huge chunk of the audience with the media literacy of tin can of beans. I was haunting the PotO subreddit for a while and the takes are rancid. I really think a certain kind of reader—usually a woman—reads that Erik is ugly and Raoul is pretty and rich and noble, and that is somehow all they get from the work.

And that Erik—who is ugly—might feel normal human drives like lust or the desire to be loved is disgusting to these people. And they act like it. "This is a story about male entitlement!" No. It’s a story about human yearning. That some people react to yearning from an imperfect source with such visceral disgust is, you know, the entire point of the fucking book.

I preach to the choir, of course. It is on purpose. I am tired of arguing, of the expectation of being pious and apologetic before enjoying the work.

I logged out of reddit mostly to stop going to r/Box5. “And look how much healthier and hotter you’ve gotten in the past few months!” a friend said to me recently, which is a) kind of cringe and pathetic but also b) objectively true.

have you experienced love never dies yet so we can talk about how it's bad? no? SAVE YOURSELF, CHILD. RUN! RUN AWAY NOW BEFORE IT CATCHES YOU.

(LND is bad but compelling all the same. it's a disease.)

anyway, hope some of that is enlightening, thank you for stopping by and saying hi, and enjoy your future phantom adventures.

[sophie1973]

Bloodstream (tell me when it kicks in)

New York, 1890. Henry is a slayer, Alex is a vampire. Somehow, they are not in a hurry to kill each other.

You can also read on AO3 or come yell at me on Twitter

Manhattan, Meatpacking District - November 1890

Not for the first time that night Henry wonders what the bloody hell he’s doing here.

Here is an empty, sinister back alley in the Meatpacking District, after nearly tripping on the freight train tracks on 10th Avenue. Thankfully, no one is around so late to witness his clumsiness.

No one human, that is. 

It’s a frosty November night, and he shivers. Despite being made of the finest wool by one of the most upscale tailors of Bond Street, his coat is still not warm enough to fend off the cold of an American winter. He’s just happy Bea and he arrived in New York after the Great Blizzard of 1888 and hopes this year is not a prelude to a repeat performance.

Patrolling in New York is similar to patrolling in London. The smells are the same, hints of sewer and garbage, a potent odor of meat and dairy coming from the surrounding warehouses, and the sound and humid air emanating from the Hudson instead of the Thames. 

He could be home with a nice cup of Earl Grey and his old, battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. Or maybe Jane Eyre. He meant to start that one a while ago but hasn’t found the time yet. Too many books, too little time.

His hand squeezes around the stake he’s holding, focusing on his surroundings. It wouldn’t be very clever of him to be ambushed because he was daydreaming (or is it nightdreaming, in this case?) about Mr Darcy or Mr Rochester.

He hasn’t used the stake yet tonight since Bea and he went their separate ways, but he can hear some shouting and grunts in the distance. Sounds like Bea is more busy than he is. He’s not worried though. His sister excels at this. She always has.

It is their legacy after all. 

Bea thrives on it.

Henry…Not so much.

He’s good at it though. The last 5 years of training made sure of that. Besides, just because his heart was never in it doesn’t mean he would allow himself to fail and dishonor his family’s name.

Putting almost 6000 kilometers between them and their grandmother had been a crucial necessity propelled by his father’s unexpected passing and his older brother’s increasing worry for his younger siblings. (he hates that word. his father hasn’t passed away. But when he needs to be alert and focused like tonight, the word sounds better in his head than ‘murder’)

But Henry is not naive. Even from an ocean away, there is no doubt Mary Mountchristen-Windsor still has her eyes on them and their every move.

Antagonizing her even more than they already have would be madness. 

Just as he decides to give up for the night and join Bea, a vampire appears from around the corner on his right and Henry sighs.

The fight is quick and expeditive, and in less than a few minutes, the vampire is a pile of dust on the dirty ground.

Henry wipes his hand on his trousers, turns around, and bumps into a wall.

Wait, not a wall. There’s a man in front of him, and Henry’s slayer senses failed him spectacularly, as he didn’t even hear him sneak behind him. 

The first thing Henry notices is his height. Henry’s a tall man, but this one has a couple of inches on him. Despite the darkness, Henry can’t help but appreciate the fact that he’s also extremely handsome with golden brown eyes, dark glossy curls, and a devastating smile…

…which reveals a nice, shiny, white pair of elongated canines.

Oh, bollocks.

Henry barely has time to entertain that thought before being pushed against a stone wall.

“Well, well, what do we have here? A baby Slayer? Christmas must have come early,” the vampire drawls with an appreciative grin.

Henry rolls his eyes at that. Yes, he looks young, and the slow aging process doesn’t help, but he’s 25, for God's sake.

He has a retort on the tip of his tongue before he thinks better of it and shuts his mouth. He raises his hand, ready to stake the stupid - and very handsome, God help him- sod and finally be reunited with his warm bed and his books.

The next thing Henry knows, the stake is on the ground and he’s being pressed against the wall by the vampire’s strong, obviously muscular body. 

Suddenly, Jane Austen is the last thing on his mind. The vampire has one hand curled around his neck, and the other presses Henry’s shoulder against the cold bricks. A predatory grin adorns his lips, and Henry thinks that this is decidedly not a good time to wonder about how long and pretty his fucking eyelashes are. 

The pressure on his neck and shoulder intensifies, and he can feel the man’s thigh slip between his own and put some pressure on his crotch. His nose detects a rather intoxicating, spicy mix of santal, cardamom, and violet, and…is that cinnamon?

The vampire brings his lips against Henry’s throat and gives it a lick.

Henry gasps.

The tip of the vampire’s fangs are now grazing his skin, but he doesn’t bite, nipping softly at the smooth flesh, as if searching for the best spot to feed.

Henry’s always been told they ‌go straight to the jugular, but alright, this one likes to play with his food.

If Bea doesn’t arrive in the next few seconds, he’s probably fucked. And not in a good way.

That being said…He assumed that he would probably be scared out of his mind if confronted with this situation. He’s found himself in some dire straits sometimes, but never to the point of being so overpowered like this.

He’s waiting for the terror to settle in, the feeling of finality and ‘well, this is how it ends’ to overcome him, the resignation of dying so young without a real chance of accomplishing anything useful. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to Fitzwilliam, his beloved beagle.

But it never comes.

Instead, long, slow swoops of…something curl in his belly. He becomes extremely conscious of the way the vampire's knee rubs against his neither region, his hot breath on the sensitive skin of his collarbone, and how every nerve ending in his body seems to detonate like fireworks. He closes his eyes and bites on his lower lip, afraid of letting out the wanton moan building in his throat.

When the feeling of horror finally, finally invades his chest it is not because he thinks of his impending demise. With sudden clarity, Henry realizes he’s not scared.

He’s aroused. 

His slayer’s instincts kick in and with his free hand, he reaches into his coat’s pocket, pulling out a small pistol and pressing it against the man’s chest.

“I know you’re not a werewolf, but I’m sure a silver bullet through the heart might still inflict some damage,” he says, surprised and a bit proud at how steady his voice sounds.

The vampire releases him and steps back, raising his hands in surrender. He smirks, and Henry sees a look of…appreciation flashing briefly in his eyes.

“Alright. New deal. I don’t bite you, you don’t shoot me. We stay out of each other’s hair.”

Henry nods but doesn’t lower his gun. Despite his gran’s claim that “a good vampire is a dead vampire” he learned early on that, just as humans, all is not black and white in the vampire world and some of them are useful members of society. He prefers to remain prudent still, especially considering the way the vampire narrows his eyes at him, and Henry feels himself squirm under his scrutiny. 

“You’re Henry. The Mountchristen-Windsor Line. Arthur Fox’s son,” he says with a final certainty. As if Henry is some sort of renowned personality whose face and family’s line of work are plastered on every newspaper. As if he’s not just boring Lord Mountchristen-Windsor who prefers to spend time in his library than waltzing on a ballroom floor. He almost laughs at the idea of the faces some of the people he meets in these shindigs - as Americans say- would make if they knew of his nighttime activities.

He doesn’t though.

“Keep my father’s name out of your filthy, bloodsucking mouth.”

“Hey, I don’t mean any offense. I was an aficionado. Saw him a few times on Drury Lane when I lived in London. He was a fantastic actor. I mean, Vicky herself was a fanatic.”

Henry’s brain comes to a screeching halt. “Vicky as in…Queen Victoria?”

The vampire nods and Henry’s eyes widen.

What the…The utter disrespect.   

He hesitates between laughing and being offended on behalf of Her Majesty. The adrenaline starts to wear off, and the former wins. He quells the bubble of nervous laughter as the vampire shrugs, “She’s the one who asked me to call her that.”

“Right.”     

“Anyway…this has been real fun, but if you’re here that means the lovely Lady Beatrice is not far and as a Slayer she’s much scarier than you. No offense.”

“Offense is absolutely taken,” Henry answers through gritted teeth. He wishes he had a more clever retort and he’s going to hate himself when he comes up with one in the morning - too late.

“Henry!”

Bea’s voice resonates from down the street and the vampire grins. “That’s my cue. See you around, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.”

He walks away before turning around with a mock salute. “I’m Alex, by the way.”

And he’s gone.   

Flabbergasted by the whole ordeal, Henry doesn’t even hear Bea catching up to him. She looks almost pristine in her coat revealing a pair of trousers that once belonged to Henry and had been adapted to her frame. One can’t exactly slay vampires wearing petticoats. The only clue of her previous slayering activities is a strand of ginger hair that escaped her bun, and a slight pink flush complimenting her fair skin. She looks lovely, but her petite frame also exudes confidence, her every movement deliberate and poised. That, paired with a devilish smile and an unwavering gaze, never fails to surprise the undead who see her as their next, easy meal. It’s a deadly combination and she never hesitates to use it to her advantage. No wonder the vampire - Alex - took to his heels. Realistically, Henry has to admit he was right. Bea is scarier than he will ever be.

The pride he harbors for his big sister knows no bounds.

“So? How many did you get? It’s rather busy tonight.”

Henry opens his mouth and closes it before saying. “Well, there was this vampire…” He trails off, not sure how to explain what happened.

Bea gestures to the pile of dust a bit further down.“You staked him?”

“Uh, no. That was another one. This one was different. Tall, handsome, well dressed…very long eyelashes. Oh, and he knew Dad, and you. Also, he was rather chatty. And insufferable.”

Bea gives him a look. 

“That was…rather specific. And you didn’t kill him? You just had a nice chat in the middle of Manhattan at night?”

“Well, he tried to bite me, and I threatened him with my pistol, so the intention was there, but then we didn’t? I’m not completely sure what happened to be honest,” he fibs, as he is pretty certain his sister doesn’t want to hear about how his traitorous body reacted to the vampire’s proximity and the unwelcomed feelings it elicited in him.

Very unwelcomed. Henry can’t stress that enough.

She keeps looking at him, obviously debating if the subject is worth pursuing and he gives her his most innocent look, making his boyish look work in his favor for once. She’s not fooled one bit.

“Alright,” she says, changing the subject. “I heard about this nest-”

“Behind you,” Henry interrupts her, looking pointedly above her shoulder and she swirls, her stakes raised and ready.

“Do you mind? We’re having a conversation here.”

She easily stakes the vampire, muttering, “How unbelievably rude,” before dusting her coast with a grimace. “We should go home. This is becoming more crowded than Covent Garden on a Sunday morning.” 

She starts walking towards their carriage, and after picking up his stake, Henry follows her without further ado. 

“Do you remember that coffee shop on the corner next to the millinery? They had those little blueberry scones that were simply delicious. I miss London sometimes.”

“Enough to go back?” he inquires, bewildered.

She lets out a brief laugh. “God no. Phillip risked way too much for us to go back.”

They reach their carriage and Henry grabs the reins as Bea is about to climb on the front seat.

“He said his name was Alex,” he blurts out because he can’t let the topic go for some reason.

“Who?” Bea frowns and turns around.

“The vampire. The other one. The one I didn’t kill.”

Understanding dawns on her face. “Oh. Probably Alexander Claremont-Diaz then. He fits the description you gave me, especially the pretty eyelashes,” she says with a teasing smile and Henry repeats the name in his head.

Alexander Claremont-Diaz. It suits him. A long-ass name for a pretentious, uncultured prick.

And yes, as far as name goes, Henry is aware of how hypocritical he’s being.

“So you do know him?”

She shrugs. “I met him a few times. His sister too. Lovely woman. She works for the Washington Post..”

“Who is he? I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.”

“You probably did. You just didn’t pay attention.” 

Henry nearly scoffs at that. If he had crossed paths with Alex before, he definitely would have paid attention. 

“Anyway,” Beatrice keeps on, “He's Vanderbilt's lawyer, and he works for some other prominent families as well. He and his sister were turned at the beginning of the century. I don’t know the whole story. You should ask Percy.”

“Percy knows him too?”

“Percy knows everyone, dear brother. You know that.”

They both climb in the carriage. Henry clicks his tongue and the horses move forward.

“If you manage to get away from your books, you might see him again at one of the next soirees,” Bea tells him. “But I suggest you steer clear of him.”

Henry lets out a quite inelegant scornful snort.“I’m not afraid of him and I doubt he will attempt anything after tonight.”

Bea shakes her head, a fond yet slightly exasperated look on her face. “Oh, darling. He’s not going to kill you. He’s going to break your heart.”

                                                      *********

Brooklyn, Alex Claremont-Diaz’s house - October 1891

The room is solely lit by the fireplace, barely illuminating the two figures on the bed and giving it a golden hue, creating a warm and comforting atmosphere. The house is silent at this late hour, and the quietude is only broken by the occasional whispers, gasps, or soft moans.

“Is that a stake in my ass, or are you happy to see me?” The tone is slightly breathless but full of mirth.

“Oh my god, Alex, Seriously? Are you trying to kill the mood?”

This is a hypothetical question because at this point no power in the universe would be able to pry Henry’s from Alex’s very capable hands. And body. And everything else.

Alex is in Henry’s lap, the aforementioned hands sliding up his back, slow, tender, fingers spread wide and he feels every touch like fire burning from the inside out.

Alex shifts his hips, setting a slow and steady pace and their gaze meets, and Henry tries not to lose himself in his brown eyes.

He tries not to lose himself in his everything. 

He thrusts up, sinking himself inside Alex, quicker and deeper each time. Alex catches his lips in an open-mouth kiss as he smiles and murmurs “Hen,” a touch of reverence in his voice.

A pleasant heat starts coiling at the base of his spine and his hand trails back up the soft, golden skin of Alex’s arm. “I’m close,” he whispers breathily.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” the vampire lets out in a hoarse voice.

It makes Henry’s toes curl in the sheets just as pleasure blooms low in his stomach and he tilts his head back and shivers as white fangs shine in the dark.

“Now,” he exhales and closes his eyes as Alex plunges his canines into his neck, right at the same time he’s hit, in perfect synchronicity, with a wave of pleasure, lighting every nerve ending of his body on fire. A breathy laugh and a string of intelligible words escape from his throat.

Alex is right behind him and lets go of his neck gently to let out a guttural groan as he comes between them, making a mess of their stomachs, his release mixing with the crimson trail flowing slowly from Henry’s puncture wound.

They meet in a searing kiss as they both come down, his lips molding to Alex’s like they are one and the same, and Henry feels his body sag, his head a bit dizzy both by the intense pleasure and blood loss.

His eyes are still closed but he hears Alex biting his own wrist before pressing it against Henry’s lips, and he takes a few sips, feeling immediately replenished.  

Alex leaves a trail of kisses against his jaw, his hand searing a path down his abdomen, gathering some of the come and blood on his finger and bringing it to Henry’s mouth, who opens it and welcomes the salty, coppery taste on his tongue. Alex repeats the gesture, this time bringing his finger to his own mouth and licking it clean with a sultry look from under his eyelashes that makes Henry want to go again almost immediately.

They stay entwined like this, uncaring of the mess between them, their breathing slowly evening.

“You ok, baby?” Alex asks softly, and Henry nods, burying his face in his lover’s neck, still unable to form a coherent sentence.

He never expected this.

Never expected the tenderness and the caring and the complete bliss he found in Alex’s every touch.

At first, it had been a way to itch a scratch, to get that bloody impossible cretin out of his system. A quick shag and they both would go on their merry way, preferably separately.

That had been 4 months ago. 

And yet he’s still here.

Bea’s words from almost a year ago resonate, unwelcomed, in his head

He’s going to break your heart.

He had been warned and had nevertheless rushed headfirst into the worst decision of his life.

(Or was it?)

 He gives Alex one last, lazy, languid kiss before he pulls out, wincing at the loss of heat, and trying to ignore Alex’s soft whimper. He grabs a cloth on the nightstand, cleans his stomach and Alex’s, then gets off the bed, throws the cloth in the basin on the vanity, and starts collecting his clothes.

Alex frowns. “You’re leaving already? It’s barely 2 am.” His face is impassive, but his voice betrays his disappointment.

Henry buttons his shirt, and looks at him briefly. He suspects Alex is as deep in this as he is, and the elation he feels in his heart is at war with the logical part of his brain screaming at him regularly that this dalliance is a bad, terrible idea.

“I don’t want to risk people seeing me coming out of your house in the wee hours of the morning, love. You know that.”

Alex shrugs and climbs out of the bed, unbothered by his nakedness.  There's no doubt he flaunts it because he knows the effect it has on Henry. Henry doesn’t exactly complain either. 

He walks to a round table and pours himself a glass of brandy.

“Besides,” Henry goes on, pointedly not looking at him, “I don’t want to come face to face with Bea.”

“Does she know?” He walks back to Henry, standing beside him and watching as he puts his trousers on, not bothering to fasten his waistcoat or tie his cravat.

“Yes. I don’t keep secrets from my sister. That doesn’t mean I want to come face-to-face with her in the hallway at dawn. She’s an early riser.”

“What did she say? When you told her?”

“She doesn’t disapprove. She likes you. For some reason.”

Alex chuckles. “For some reason? Are you saying you don’t like me, sweetheart?”

Henry tries hard - and sadly fails - not to blush at the term of endearment but still gives Alex his most bland, uninterested look.

“I tolerate you. Barely.”

“Well, you seemed to tolerate me well enough an hour ago when I was eating your a-”

He doesn’t get to finish his phrase as Henry grabs him by the jaw and captures his lips. He learned very quickly in their relationship - since the werewolf incident- that it was the best and most gratifying way to shut Alex up.

Alex hums into the kiss, leaning and letting out a whine as Henry takes a step back and grabs his coat.

“Come on, Hen. Stay another hour.” There is a vulnerability in his voice that tugs at Henry’s heart, because God knows he would love to stay a few more hours too.

A few more days…A few more years? A lifetime? 

He wished desperately he could stay and lounge in bed with Alex, and not just for the  - spectacular - sex but for the odd companionship he found with the vampire. The hushed conversations in the dark. The knowing smiles and heated gazes from across a crowded ballroom. The jokes and even the gossip about some members of the High Society.

But it’s just too dangerous. What they are doing is already reckless but selfishly, he can’t stop.

He put on his coat and looks at Alex who still stands beside him, a soft look on his face, his curls in disarray, his fucking eyelashes, and freckles of gold in his brown eyes, cast there by the light of the fire. There is an array of emotions in those eyes that Henry doesn’t have the time, but mostly the will, to decipher at that moment. He’s already very close to throwing reason out of the window and pushing Alex back against the bed.

It takes a lot of willpower not to do it. One he didn’t even know he possessed. 

“You’ll catch your death, darling. Go back to bed”

Henry’s volition only goes so far, and he leans for another kiss, sweet and light, as he breathes him in and presses their forehead together for a few more precious seconds.

“Are you going to the Vanderbilts tonight?” He asks as they finally find the will to separate.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll see you there.”

Alex nods, and Henry takes a step back, opens the door, and checks the corridor. A last longing look, an imperceptible shake of his head, and he leaves.

A few minutes later he is in the street, walking briskly, a dark shadow reminiscent of the creatures he hunts at night.

The taste of Alex still lingers on his tongue. 

[mimisempai]

The proof of their love is everywhere

Summary

Muriel knows what love is, they had read a lot about it.

But when they hear Maggie and Nina comment that it's too obvious that Aziraphale and Crowley are in love, they realize they knows nothing.

Thanks to Maggie, they now have a checklist and will be able to check and look for evidence of the love between the angel and the demon.

Notes

Muriel is learning…

On Ao3

Rating G -  1560 words

Muriel took a sip of their hot chocolate, once again marveling at the smooth, sweet taste and the warmth it spread through their body.

Their eyes were drawn to a commotion on the street, and they couldn't help but smile when they saw that it was Aziraphale and Grumpy, who were once again bickering after getting out of the car and walking to the bookshop.

With their notebook in hand, they approached the two women and asked, "I know what it means to be in love because I've read about it, but how can you tell just by looking at them?"

The two women looked back at them, smiling, and Maggie replied gently, "Oh, Muriel, there are many signs, and I'm sure if you think about it, you must have seen some, like special care to each other, how they look at each other in a special way, how they have a special closeness, how they share special moments together, when they have attitudes that show they trust each other, tender gestures, special ways of touching each other that convey their special bond. No book can teach you that, sweetie, you know it when you see it with your own eyes, and I'm pretty sure you've caught moments like that before, you just weren't aware of their meaning."

Muriel's pen raced across their notebook, and with a nod of thanks to Maggie, they returned to their table and looked over the checklist they'd just created, trying to remember anything that might have told them something about the special bond between the angel and the demon.

**********

Sitting on the floor between two bookshelves one evening, lost in Persuasion, they hadn't immediately noticed that Crowley had entered the bookstore.

It was only when they heard him talking to Aziraphale that they became aware of his presence.

"Angel, your tea's cold again. And I see the cup is exactly where I left it before I got away."

"Don't be angry, my dear, I-"

Crowle interrupted, "You were engrossed in that manuscript and didn't see the time pass. Come on, give me your cup, I'll make you a fresh one."

"Crowlay, wait, come here." 

Muriel got up and walked along the row of books. Now, from where they stood, they could see the angel and the demon between the books.

Aziraphale had grabbed Crowley's hand and was pulling him toward him, forcing him to bend over. He kissed the demon gently on the mouth before saying softly, "Thank you for taking care of me, my dear."

Muriel then saw an expression on the demon's face that they had never seen before. His smile was so soft that they couldn't take their eyes off it, so mesmerized were they. 

The demon then put his arms around the angel's neck and Muriel knew it was time for them to leave discreetly.

**********

Snapping out of their thoughts, Muriel took a sip of hot chocolate and checked off two items on their list

Special glances ✔︎

Special care ✔︎

**********

"I knew you'd do me good at some way at some time. I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you." 

When Muriel entered the shop where they had left their current book, they were surprised to hear Aziraphale's voice reading aloud while he was away from his desk. Tiptoeing forward so as not to be noticed, they hid behind one of the columns and peered curiously into the corner where the voice came from.

Crowley was lying on the sofa, his head in Aziraphale's lap. The angel had one hand in the demon's hair as the other  hand was holding a book. 

Crowley said quietly: "Wait, I know that line, I've heard it before. I haven't read it, but I've heard it."

"Jane Eyre..." Aziraphale replied as he continued to run his fingers through the red hair. Which, judging by his expression, the demon seemed to appreciate.

"Sure, I remember, I saw this movie from the '90s, I think with William Hurt. And even though it was sometimes a bit long, it wasn't too bad. Not my cup of tea, but not unpleasant either. I prefer the movies of Richard Curtis, which are much more effective. A little rain and Vavoom"

Aziraphale chuckled slightly, "I think you've already told me about that..."

"Hey, don't make fun. If the canopy hadn't cracked under the weight of the water, Maggie and Nina would have been together before your little ball."

Aziraphale patted Crowley on the nose and replied, "Considering our joint inefficiency, we'll call it a draw."

Crowley hummed and Aziraphale was about to resume his reading when he stopped and said quietly, "You know, you remind me of Jane.”

"Austen?"

"Don't be silly. Jane Eyre."

Crowley sneered, "Me? Really, Aziraphale, I think I'll put that in the top ten of the funniest things you've ever said to me."

Aziraphale took a slightly offended tone and replied, "It wasn't a joke. I knew you'd do me some good someday. I saw it in your eyes when I first saw you. I saw it in your eyes the first time I saw you, even though I tried to ignore it afterwards. And if we look at our history, my dear, that is indeed the case, isn't it?"

From Crowley's silence, Muriel could clearly see that the angel's words had hit the nail on the head. After a few moments of silence, Crowley rolled onto his back, looked at Aziraphale, then raised his hand and placed it on Aziraphale's cheek, saying softly, ""Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you... Especially when you're near, like now. It's feel as though I had a string tied here, under my rib, where my heart is. Tightly knotted to you... in a similar fashion. When I watched the movie, when Edward Rochester says these words to Jane, I thought of you. Even when we were separated for long periods of time, I knew you were in there somewhere, but I was always afraid that one day heaven would separate you from me for good and break that bond forever."

When Muriel saw Aziraphale take Crowley's hand on his cheek and kiss his palm, they picked up their forgotten book from the small table and left as they had come.

"Never, my dear. Nothing, not even heaven, will come between us."

Those were the last words Muriel heard as they closed the door.

Once again snapped out of their thoughts, Muriel saw that a plate of muffins had appeared next to their hot chocolate. They turned their heads toward the counter where Nina winked at them.

Muriel grabbed a muffin and savored it before picking up their pen and checking off new items.

Special Closeness ✔︎

Sharing Special Moments ✔︎

Special Touches ✔︎

*********

Muriel had not had the opportunity to see Crowley in his snake form. They knew he could change shape, Aziraphale had described him enthusiastically, raving about his colors and all, but they had never seen him with their own eyes. So they were naturally surprised to find him curled up in the red armchair when they entered the bookshop with the record Maggie had entrusted to them for Aziraphale.

They were about to take a closer look when Aziraphale appeared next to the snake and leaned over. Suddenly, the snake began to transform, but Aziraphale stopped him, "Crowley, you're not bothering me, if you want to stay in your snake form, I really don't mind." 

And as Crowley returned to his snake form, Aziraphale sat down on the sofa and patted his knees.

Muriel watched in fascination as the little black and red snake crawled to Aziraphale's knees, where it curled up. Aziraphale then gently stroked its head and said quietly, "Today is one of those days, isn't it?"

The little snake hissed before curling up even more against the angel's hand as he continued his gentle caresses and spoke soothingly to him. "Crowley, we've talked about this. Don't force yourself on my account. You have the right not to want to do anything. Not to know what to do. It takes time, and we have time."

The angel leaned over and placed a light kiss on the snake's head before continuing to caress it gently, repeating words of comfort and encouragement over and over again.

Muriel looked at them for a few moments, wondering how to describe their feelings at this scene.

Back in reality, with a little more knowledge, Muriel realized with clarity what they'd seen that day and were able to check off the last two items on their list.

Acceptance ✔︎

Trust ✔︎

All the items on their checklist had been checked off. 

Proof, black on white, that Aziraphale and Crowley were truly in love.

"Now that you know, you're going to see it all the time. It's almost disgusting." 

Nina had just sat down across from them.

Muriel shook their head. They doubted they would find it disgusting. They felt in their heart that it was something really good. They emptied their cup, thanked Nina for the hot chocolate, the cakes and the explanations, and decided to return to the bookshop. They had a job to complete, and who knew, they might yet witness the love of the angel and the demon.

They hoped so.

For it was a love that was good to live around.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)