#looking over at my library shelf right now it's just making me sad even though the books should be very good

[asterdeer]

bg3 is reminding me that secondary world fantasy is actually my one true love in the whole wide world and that i almost never read it anymore because i feel like i should read Better Shit than high fantasy because somehow i, writer who has dedicated their life to writing fantasy of varying heights, has swallowed the "fantasy is the lowest form of fiction" bullshit and i'm not being a good person if i read a lot of it. anyway i'm reading the eragon books again because i've a massive headache, i am not beholden to make good reading choices at all times, and because one of the angst-causers in later books is a magical grammar mistake gone rogue. i remember tons of people bitching about that but i think it's one of the funniest damn things i've ever read and also if i could do magic i would also be terrified of doing a Heinous Thing because of tenses or whatever. my GOD imagine ruining a child's life because of magical grammar. you can tell he was in college when he wrote this. favorite bad series of all time. BBEG's legend includes being kicked in the balls. nasuada's there. what else do you want? the writing to be good? grow up

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty (Part 4)

I don’t feel like talking anymore, so when a boy Jen knows comes over to join us on the sofa, I don’t even bother introducing myself, I just get up and go back inside. I spend some time wandering from room to room, going in and out of living rooms, dining rooms, studies, libraries, just looking at the kinds of things these people have in their house. Things that seem extravagant, that seem to have been bought just because they could be, not because they were necessary. There’s no way that anybody could ever read so many books in a lifetime. 

I go into the room with the grand piano and sit there plucking out some notes for a while, and then when I give up, having not produced anything that sounded all that great, I look to yet another bookcase and scan its shelves for something interesting enough to absorb myself in for a while. 

I spot a copy of Goodnight Mr. Tom tucked away among a row of hardcover classics. It’s a book I haven’t read in years, and I can hardly remember much about the story, only that I enjoyed reading it. I take it and flip open the front cover, and it’s well worn, the pages stained and fingerprinted. There’s writing on the first page, neat, looping, pencilled cursive that forms the words: Jude Turner. 5th Class. I stare at it for a while, and consider whether anybody would notice if this book went missing. How easy would it be for me to take it back into the kitchen and smuggle it into my bag, just so I could hold onto something that’s his?

“Are you going to play a tune or what?” 

I spin around with a start to see Jude leaning against the door frame with amusement on his face. I wonder how long he’s been standing there looking at me. I gather myself quickly and hold up the book to show him. “I was looking at this, actually. I read it in school.”

“I did too.” He comes over and sits with me on the piano stool, and I let him take it out of my hands. “I think about this book a lot, actually, and how it was kind of nuts that they made eleven year olds read it.”

“Why? Because of the war stuff?”

He lets out a little laugh. “Wasn’t there a scene with a dead baby?” Then he puts the book right back on the shelf. “No need to be reading a book like that when you’re at a party.” He says to me, “It’s grim enough.”

His whole left side is pressed against me, and I feel nervous and fidgety. “How are you feeling? A bit sad?” I ask him. 

“No. I’m doing fantastic.” He says. “Are you sad?”

“No, never better.” I say, and we stare each other down, a pair of rotten liars.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had a lot of time to talk to you, it’s hectic. Everyone wants to relive their fondest memories of me and talk about the good times. It’s weird, it’s kind of like being at my own funeral.” 

“They’re just going to miss you.”

“Yes but I’m not dying, I’m going to Germany.”

“It won’t be the same when you’re gone, though.” I begin, but he quickly cuts me off with a sharp: “I don’t want to talk about that.”  

I feel stupid, and stare down at my feet, the same old white adidas that saw me through the summer now looking so worn out and scruffy, their condition accentuated by the polished wooden floor beneath them.  

“Jude.” Someone says from the doorway, and I look up to see Michelle standing there, her mere presence only making me feel a hundred times worse. “We have a surprise for you. Can you come out to the kitchen?” 

“Yeah, just a second.” He tells her, and then she goes away. Nobody bothered introducing us and I’m glad of it, because I don’t think I could handle the discovery that Michelle is not only beautiful, but also a nice person. 

“They’ve all signed a card.” He explains. “And they’re going to give it to me now.”

“So much for a surprise.”

“Someone already let it slip. I don’t think I even want it.” He admits. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not goodbye, it’s like a see-you-later. I just hate all the fuss.” A muscle twitches in his jaw.

“Well, then I’m glad nobody asked me to sign it.” 

“Me too. I don’t want you to have written some platitude for me, some yearbook style ‘You rock! Never change!’”

“Is that what you think I’d write?” I laugh. 

“No, I just… you get the idea.”

“I do.”

“I’ll see you again, Evie. It’s not the end.” He says, looking right at me. 

“I know.” I say, and then someone is shouting his name from the kitchen, I watch him anxiously, waiting for him to get up and leave but he just ignores them. 

“I know we won’t get much time to talk tonight.” He tells me. “But we can tomorrow if you want to. My flight is at seven.”

“That’s early.”

“Yeah, I know, but if you can manage it, you can see me off. I’m getting up at four, so we can have breakfast together.”

“The last meal?”

“Not the last.”

“Okay. The last for now.”

“Will you get up? We can sit out and watch the sunrise. I’ll make you coffee.”

“Just me?”

“Just you, just us.”

“Yes.” I say immediately. “I’ll set my alarm. I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

They’re still calling for him, so he wrenches himself from the seat and goes out to the kitchen for his gift, looking back at me one more time to point his finger at me. “Four.” he says again, and then he’s gone. 

Jude’s family gets home at midnight, Ivy sleeping in her fathers arms, and after that the party dies down quickly.  I start clearing up all of the cups and filling the bins with bottles and cans while Jude sits down at the end of the garden with Jen, talking about something that seems important, so I don’t interrupt them, regardless of how badly I want to sit and talk to him again, completely addicted to the things my body does whenever he’s close to me.

The last few stragglers, those who are staying the night, hunker down on the living room couches and I go upstairs and take one of the guest rooms. I ignore the pile of suitcases that Jen mentioned, unable to think about a whole life packed into bags like that, set for their journey across western europe tomorrow. 

As I lay in bed with the lights on I listen for Jude’s footsteps on the stairs. I hear him come up quietly, and then go into the bathroom. I imagine him coming to my door and knocking on it, and that I’ll let him in and he’ll sit with me on the bed and we’ll talk and talk about everything we can think of until our throats are sore, and I’ll run my fingers through his hair and touch his nose, his mouth, his earlobes with their tiny silver hoops and trace every freckle on his face so I can draw him from memory when he’s gone. 

But he comes out of the bathroom and goes straight into his bedroom. I grab my phone to set the alarm, then suddenly remember to text my mother. I compose a quick message telling her that I’m safe and well, and going to bed. Then I shove it under the pillow, turn off the light and go to sleep. 

Prev // Next

[maaarijaaa]

Mine❦Sherlock Holmes Part Five

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock Holmes, the most famous detective in the world. After finishing a case, he decided to visit Enola and his mother. On the first day of the visit he laid his eyes on a beauty, you

Disclaimer: I do NOT allow for my work to be translated or posted anywhere else on this app or other platforms. English is not my first language so let me know if I made any mistakes!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part Four

A/N: thank you for 196 followers🫶🏻 don’t worry, I will be writing smut in the next part.

Words count: 1.1k

You and Sherlock had the best sleep that night.

He was so happy that he got the opportunity to spend the night with you.

He woke up before you and looked at your beautiful face. He saw that you had a sleepy smile on your face.

Even though you were sleeping, you still looked beautiful.

After a few minutes, you began to stir.

“Good morning, sweetheart!”

“Good morning, Sherlock.”

After you said that, you shared a few kisses before anybody said anything.

“Did you sleep well? Were the pajamas comfortable?”

“I slept like a baby and the pj’s are really comfortable!”

“I’m so glad you liked them.”

After that you just stared and kissed each other.

His lips were still on your until you heard the knock on the door.

“Ms. Taylor, are you awake?!”

You stood up and walked to your bedroom door. Your helper, Lucy, came into sight.

“Is anything wrong Lucy?”

“No, of course not. I just wanted to tell you that your father will be staying a few nights at his friend's house since it’s something about business that needs to be discussed.”

“Oh thank you for the information. Would you please go and get breakfast ready for me and Sherlock?”

“I would love to! I would be back in an hour”

After that, Lucy went downstairs and started making breakfast, meanwhile you went back to bed where Sherlock still laid in.

“We have an hour to get ready.”

“Can’t we just spend the entire day together, alone, in here?”

“We could but we need to eat. I am actually pretty hungry right now.”

Sherlock chuckled at the sentence. After a few minutes of sharing kisses, you decided to get ready for the day.

It was a little bit rainy that day, so Sherlock had an excuse to not leave the house until it stopped raining.

After about thirty minutes, breakfast was served.

You and Sherlock went down stairs, hand in hand, and began eating.

During breakfast, he told you about his job.

He told you everything from traveling to the methods he used to solve the cases.

There were some cases that had both happy and sad endings.

You knew Sherlock really loved being a detective, and you also knew that cases that went the wrong path, were hard and painful for him.

The case that was the most terrifying and sad, was a case about a little boy that went missing in Italy. Sherlock did everything he could. He even promised the boy’s parents that their son will come back home alive.

After weeks of searching, the little boy's body was found in the woods, not far from where his parents lived.

Sherlock had enough clues to identify the killer, but the trauma of witnessing the body will haunt him forever.

You felt really bad for him, so you decided to take to the huge library your father had in his huge mansion.

You knew Sherlock loved to read.

He was even more amazed by the fact that your father owned such a huge library.

“Do you come here often?” He asked with a soft tone.

“Only when I am bored or need new books to read.”

“How many of them have you read?”

“I lost count a long time ago.”

You both laughed at the sentence.

You showed him around the library. They were books from all over the world. They were also books that were written in different languages.

“What’s your favorite book?” He asked you with an even more softer tone this time.

“I do have a lot of favorites, but nothing comes close to Little Women.”

You picked up the book from the shelf and showed it to Sherlock.

“My mother gifted me this book when I was born. I did not have the courage to read it until I was 18 years old since I was still recovering from her loss. I know it sounds stupid that even after 18 year’s after her death, that I just can not accept the fact that she is not here anymore. My father told me that she picked this book because my mother predicted that it would fit my personality. Turns out she was right.”

Sherlock really loved the way you talked about your late mother. It feels like her legacy lives through you. You even shared the same beauty as your mother. He felt really sad for you but was happy that you tried keeping her memory alive again.

You spend hours describing your favorite book to Sherlock. Your favorite character was Amy. You described every scene that you liked and every scene that you did not like. You told him about your favorite and least favorite characters.

Sherlock just sat there listening to you. He could just sit there and listen to you, forever.

You spent the entire day in the library since there was no point in going for a walk when it was raining.

You were so occupied with the books that you did not notice it was starting to get dark outside.

Sherlock said that he can go home, but you refused since you did not want him to go soaking wet to his mothers house. So, he decided to spend another night at your fathers mansion.

After eating dinner, you went to your room. You talked to each other for a bit before getting ready to sleep.

After you two got ready, it was time for sleep.

But at the same time, you did not want this to end so you started having a conversation.

“Do you what I dreamed about last night?” He whispered.

“Would love to know.”

“I dreamed about us. About me proposing you and you said yes. About us getting married. About us having the cutest babies in the world, who eventually got their beauty from their mother.”

You just laid there in shock. You dreamed about the same thing.

“Ever since I told I love you at the flower field, is the same time I started having those dreams. I understand if you are not ready for it yet or don’t want to be with but-“

His sentence was cut by your lips on his.

“I love you too, Sherlock. I have loved you since the first time I saw you.”

After that you continued on with kissing. You wanted to stop before things got heated, but that did not work out.

Soon enough, your room was filled with moans and groans that night…

Tag list: @mis-lil-red , @kaqua , @stfu-im-a-gay-popcorn , @summersong69 , @cynic-spirit

[cursedwriter]

Dancing with your Ghost - Fushiguro Megumi

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

Warnings: Deals with death, Megumi has various breakdowns, it’s just really sad over all... sorry for making you cry in advance! 

Words: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Kind of inspired by this song: Dancing with your Ghost - Sasha Sloan // Also, when they dance, I kinda imagined them to dance to this: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder 

“Is he still in there?” Yuji pointed at the door by the end of the hallway. Gojo was walking in his direction, his expression unreadable.  

“No matter what I tell him, he won’t come out.” His voice sounded tired, almost worn out. The sight must’ve been hard for him to bear. Itadori gulped. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. “You should try talking to him. Maybe he will listen to you. We both know he would regret it if he missed the ceremony.” Gojo patted Yuji on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few additional seconds in silent comfort.

“I’ll try my best,” Itadori nodded, though, he sounded more hopeful than he was. This was going to be rough.

Soon after, Gojo disappeared behind the corner and out of sight. His shoulders were slouching and his head was hanging low as if he couldn’t walk upright. This was hard on everyone. But the person who had it the worst of all was…

“Fushiguro, can I come in?” Yuji knocked on the door three times. No answer. He tried again. This time more forceful. “Hey, Megumi! It’s me, Yuji! Do you mind if I come in?” Still no answer. Itadori sighed, but he pushed the door open anyways, peering into the dimly lit library of the Jujutsu Tech High school. Admittedly, he’s never been in here before. Yuji wasn’t really the non-fiction reader… or anything that wasn’t manga, really. But upon entering the room, he couldn’t help but gawk. The shelves were stacked to the max, piling up above his head in a seemingly endless supply of books. There were books everywhere. The amount of knowledge that was stored in here was immense. And all about curses and jujutsu? Incredible! Maybe he should’ve come here sooner. He bet that there had to be at least a dozen books about Sukuna here somewhere.

“It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense.” Itadori was pulled out of his thoughts by the repetitive mantra that was coming from somewhere behind a shelf. He followed the sound that was mingled with quiet sobs and he had to force himself to keep walking. This was more terrifying than facing all the curses of this world together.

“Megumi?” He peered around the shelf, finding his friend sitting on the old wooden floor, frantically flipping through a book with yellowed pages that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. It must’ve been ancient.

“No sense, no sense, no sense,” he repeated over and over again as if that phrase was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Megumi?” Itadori tried again and finally Megumi’s head snapped up and he looked at Itadori like a deer caught in headlights… only way worse. His eyes were bloodshot with dark purple circles underneath them. A stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. Briefly, Yuji wondered if Megumi had slept at all since it happened. Tears were streaming down his face and it felt like they would never stop. An endless river of sorrow and despair. Yuji was sure he heard his own heart shatter in his chest as he looked at his best friend. He wished he could take some of the pain away. Even if it was just a little, but of course that was impossible. “The ceremony will start soon and-“

“That’s stupid!” Fushiguro cut him off harshly, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual. “Why would there be a freaking ceremony when she’s coming back?!”

“Megumi, she-“

“No! Stop it!” He yelled, throwing the book he was reading against the opposite wall. “Stop it! Shut up!” He pressed his palms against his temples as if he wanted to crush his own skull. “I’ll do it, you’ll see! All of you! You’ll see! I’ll bring her back! I’ll bring her back, okay?! I will – I will!” He repeated it over and over again and it was apparent that he wanted to proof himself right more than anything else. Maybe making him believe would help ease his pain? Should he encourage him? No. Despite wishing that he could provide some words of comfort right now, Itadori knew that false hope would be the cruelest thing he could offer. No matter how much it hurt, but Megumi couldn’t go on like this… searching for something that wasn’t real.

“Megumi, please. You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” Itadori tried again, picking up the book that Megumi had thrown away. He flipped through the first pages and he could already tell that the answers Megumi was searching for weren’t in this book. It was mostly about how sorcerers could reincarnate as curses if their dead bodies weren’t handled properly. If they died you had to make sure that the last hit was infused with cursed energy. Usually, that took care of things. However, if they died of natural causes, diseases or accidents there was a special ritual, a ceremony that made sure their bodies were put to rest accordingly. Kind of like a funeral, but then again, not quite. This was the ceremony Fushiguro refused to attend, even though it was highly valued among sorcerers. It was a way to pay your last respects, value their accomplishments and thank them for their sacrifice. He probably refused to go because that would make her death final and he would be forced to move on, no matter how hard it would be… and it was going to be very hard.

“SHE’S COMING BACK, DAMMIT!” Megumi yelled at him, reaching for another book that was stocked in a pile he’d built himself. The tower crumbled with the way he yanked it out, dozen books falling to the ground, scattering to their feet. It was eerily quiet for a second, Yuji didn’t dare to speak. The atmosphere so thick, he doubted even Maki’s demon blade could cut through it. And then, right when he wanted to say something, anything really to get rid of the suffocating silence in the room, Megumi started sobbing. Not like before. Impossibly, it was even worse. His whole body shook with the action, hands that were clinging onto the book were trembling and despite him hanging his head low, Yuji could see the frequent tears that were hitting the old worn out pages of the book, blurring the ink further, making it almost unreadable.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he hug him? What could he even say? Should he call for someone? Gojo-sensei? Would he know what to do? Or Nobara? Or, wait! Y/N always knew what to do when it came to him… Oh, right…

Yuji slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he forget?! It really didn’t feel real yet, huh? Itadori tried to swallow the big lump in his throat as he crouched down and gently took the book out of Fushiguro’s shaking hands. He looked so fragile, as if a single slap to the wrist could break his arm.

“I just don’t get it,” Megumi whispered. His voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater or as if Yuji had cotton in his ears, muffling his voice to a point where it was almost incomprehensible. “It’s just so unfair.”

Yuji placed the book on the ground beside him, skipping over the title “Resurrection and the balance of the world”, it read. He gulped again. Could it be possible?

“I know it is.” He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and another muffled cry escaped Megumi’s mouth. Yuji had seen a lot over the course of just one year, but not once has he witnessed such utter despair. The sight pulled on his heart strings in ways he couldn’t even explain.

“She fought against the most heinous creatures every day and you’re telling me she died because some fucking asshole thought it was a good idea to drive while being absolutely shit faced?!” Some of his words were swallowed by his sobs, but Itadori understood him well enough. “I refuse to believe that! I refuse to accept that!”

Momentarily Itadori was thrown back to the moment they got the call, he remembered it all too vividly. The shock, the confusion and his scream…

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the nurse led them into the room. The air was chilly and it smelled like disinfectant.  The stench so unbelievably strong, Megumi thought he might throw up. It burned in his eyes and nose and he distantly felt his cheeks getting wet. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or of what was to come… at this point, it still felt like a sick joke, some twisted game or prank. Just not real, like a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the body underneath covered by a white cloth. Gojo, Nobara and Yuji gathered around it, hands clutched together in front of them as if they were silently praying. Megumi hesitated. He stood in the doorframe, looking at the scene in front of him and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everyone was crying. Even Gojo seemed more tense than usual and he was sure he saw a stray tear slip from underneath his sunglasses.

The room was silent, except for the door falling shut behind him as the nurse left them to mourn in peace. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? How could it be anything else?

Megumi’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he hesitantly approached the bed covered in white sheets.

This is just a dream. This is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any second now. Just wake up. Wake up! Wake up, dammit!

But he didn’t wake up. Not even as he reached for the white cloth. And he didn’t wake up as he slowly lifted it up. He didn’t wake up when everyone sucked in a sharp breath. And he didn’t wake up as Nobara’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground sobbing. He didn’t wake up as he laid his eyes on your peaceful but lifeless face.

Megumi didn’t wake up. But God did he wish he did.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. Studying your features. How your hair was softly flowing on the pillow, how your lips were slightly parted as if you would wake up at any given moment and tell him something important. But he also noticed that your cheeks lacked their signature pinkish tint and your lips were more blue than their usual vibrant red.

His hand inched closer to your face, connecting to your cheeks and adoringly caressing it. It was cold underneath his touch. Your skin feeling more like wax than it felt alive.

No one said anything, the only sound was Nobara’s quiet sobs that she tried to stiffle to the best of her abilities. Everyone watched Megumi and no one knew what to do. Neither of them has ever felt so helpless. Even Gojo was rendered speechless at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.

And then, everything slowly started to sink in…

She’s gone.  She’s gone. She’s really gone! You’re not waking up! Why aren’t you waking up?! Wake up!! No, no, no. This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This isn’t happening! Tell me this isn’t happening?!

Didn’t I just talk to her this morning? Didn’t we talk about going to the beach as soon as it got warmer? Didn’t we make dinner plans? Didn’t she boast about a new recipe she wanted to try? Didn’t this just happen? And you’re telling me that all of that is just… gone? Just like that? In a moments notice… poof?! Evaporated into thin air? You’re telling me that?

“Wake up, dammit! Wake up, dammit! WAKE UP!”

Everyone stared helplessly at Fushiguro. At first no one knew if he was talking to himself or you, but then he started desperately shaking your shoulders, repeating the words over and over again. “We wanted to go to the beach, remember? You told me you couldn’t wait! Come back, and I’ll drive us right now! Come back! Come back to me, please! Please!”

Gojo couldn’t bear the sight anymore. The way he shook your body as if that would change anything. With a few long strides he closed the distance between him and Megumi and pulled him away from the bed. He was thrashing at him, screaming in his face to let him go, but Gojo didn’t listen. He gladly took a hit or two if that meant Fushiguro could get at least some of his frustration out of his body. To Gojo, the room itself was a hard place to be in – for obvious reasons. The energy here made him feel uneasy and on edge. The amount of cursed energy gushing out of Megumi was immense and almost unbearable. He had to get his emotions in check or else…

Megumi continued to yell and thrash. “Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! I need to see her! I need to see her!”

“I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to calm down!” Gojo’s voice was stern. This was probably the first time ever that he actually put on the façade of a responsible adult. Nobara and Yuji watched the two with wide eyes, but didn’t interfere otherwise. “If you keep this up, you might end up cursing her! Do you want that?!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Megumi wasn’t listening.

“Megumi, snap out of it!” Gojo’s palm connected to Megumi’s cheek, his flesh burning hot where it had connected. For a moment, the room was silent again. Only Megumi’s labored breaths broke through the thick tension.

“You bastard!” Megumi launched himself at Gojo with all his strength, but that was exactly what Gojo intended. It was better if he directed all his energy towards him than having it leak out of him uncontrollably. Otherwise he had the potential of manifesting a new special grade curse that neither one of them wanted to deal with, especially if you were to be reborn as said curse.

Megumi stopped his relentless attacks, knees buckling under his weight as a single agony filled screamed echoed off the walls…

Megumi slowly opened his eyes. His head was aching, blood soaring in his ears. What happened? He looked around himself. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon light that peered through his partially closed blinds. He was laying in his bed, the room a mess just like he remembered. That was unlike him. Well, ever since that day he hasn’t been himself at all. Now, he more or less felt like an empty shell, existing but not alive.

He groaned, sitting up while he rubbed his temples, hoping to get the relentless throbbing to stop. Ah, that’s right. A few flashes of the previous events reminded him of what had happened. Megumi’s frustration and anger had gotten the best of him and he started throwing books, ripping them out of their shelves and even tearing some of them apart when he couldn’t find the answers he was looking for. Yuji had to call for Gojo and he in turn had knocked him unconscious.  

Megumi huffed. Great. Now he was probably not permitted to go to the library again. He should really start thinking before lashing out like this. No, matter, though. If push comes to shove he’d find a way in and if it’s the last thing he did. He didn’t really care anymore anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? Expulsion? That was nothing.

He peeled the covers back, his shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably. Maybe he should take a shower before he went back again.

Reluctantly, he got up and walked towards his bathroom, mindful not to trip on anything that was scattered on his floor.

Once he was there, he turned the shower faucet on, letting the water heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. His head was still killing him and his whole body ached. He shivered, even as he got into the shower and the hot water burned his skin. He was still cold. For some reason he didn’t seem to be able to get warm anymore, as if you took all of his warmth with you, when you left him.

“Ew, stop doing that,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Megumi shook his wet hair in your face after coming out of the shower. “Seriously, are you a dog?”

“No, but I love hearing you laugh.” Megumi wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back against his naked chest as you both watched your reflection in the mirror. “I really love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered in your ear, not taking his eyes off the mirror. He could see the faint blush on your cheeks and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck to emphasize his words.

“I love you, too.” The smile on your lips and the way your eyes sparkled with joy, filled his heart with warmth and light. He could bask in it for all eternity and he would never get tired of it.

Megumi turned the water off, still shivering. It was to no use. His skin was burning red, though, and the whole room was filled with steam and yet, he had goosebumps all over his body. His teeth started clattering as he dried himself and he put on new clothes.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was three in the morning. He felt like he forgot about something… something important. What was it again?

And then his eyes widened in shock. No, no, no.

“Hey, look!” Megumi felt your slender fingers wrap around his wrist, your warmth immediately warming his cold skin. You tugged him gently and he followed you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your desired destination and you stopped, eyes shining with awe in them as you watched over the city, lights sparkling and illuminating the darkness. Megumi couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from constantly looking at you instead. The way your face lit up, the way the lights danced on your face and how your cheeks were always tinted in their usual pinkish color, made him fall for you all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and his pulse picked up. Butterflies assaulting his stomach in the best way imaginable and he felt like he was floating above ground. Never has he felt so happy. “There! It’s starting!” You beamed at him as the first flash of light painted the night sky in a bright blue color, then it changed to red and then green. The sound of other fireworks being set off rang through the otherwise silent night. Here, on top of the mountain away from anyone, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine. But he wasn’t sure if it was only because of the view and the fact that no one was around or if it was because you were here. Whatever it was, he didn’t dream to fight it. The feeling so foreign yet so welcomed.

Suddenly your hand appeared in his line of vision and he didn’t hesitate to take it. What he didn’t expect was you starting to spin around. It took him a moment to catch up. “C’mon, Megumi, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there so stiffly! Dance with me!” You urged him on and Megumi felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He could only hope that you couldn’t see it.

“There’s no music, though,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not make a complete fool out of himself. You see, Megumi wasn’t a dancer. Give him a choreographed fighting formation and he could do that no problem, but moving his feet to the rhythm of a song? Nope. That was sure to end in him tripping over his own feet and in the worst case break his leg or arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, but instead of saying anything, you reached into your back pocket to get a hold of your phone. It didn’t take long and the sound of the fireworks was mixed with the soft tune of a song that he didn’t know. “Better?”

Well, not really… Megumi scratched the back of his head, unsure. Better to come clean, I guess. “You see… I can’t really dance… like at all,” Megumi stammered.

“So what? I can’t dance either,” you laughed, spinning around and jumping up and down like it was the most normal thing to do. The smile on your face never faltered and you did another spin, throwing your hands up in the air, moving them around awkwardly. Megumi couldn’t help but laugh at your awkward movements. You looked so silly, it was hilarious. “See? Now it’s only fair that you make a fool out of yourself, too. You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

What the hell, right? Megumi started moving his feet, still super stiffly and anything but graceful, but he did it. He looked at you, following your movements and it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it… well, somewhat at least. He still looked really awkward and helpless, so you reached both your hands out for him again and he grabbed them without hesitation, just like before. You started spinning both of you in circles, giggling at the way his face lit up slightly. He joined your laughter, looking at you with the most adoring smile in the world. It felt… so easy. Everything with you felt so easy.

So now it was just the both of you, spinning around in fast circles, laughing at the night sky filled with stars while in the distance the sound of fireworks slowly died down. The music playing softly in the background, but you didn’t even care that the rhythm of the song didn’t match with your movements at all. Nothing mattered in that moment. Just the two of you. Together. Forever.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gojo scratched the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “Maybe I was a bit too rough, when I knocked you out. Sorry about that.”

Megumi stared at him sitting in the front row of lined up chairs. The room was only dimly lit by the candles at the other end. The soft light they cast illuminated a picture of you in a black frame. It was the same one he had saved as his phone background. Megumi gulped, feet moving on their own as he approached Gojo, though, he felt his knees wobble unsteadily. The air became thicker and thicker with every other step he took. It felt excruciatingly hard to breathe. It was suffocating.

Megumi sat down on a chair next to Gojo, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the framed picture in front of him. If he didn’t he was afraid he might break down again. So he shifted his attention to the man in the chair next to him. He was already looking at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, as usual. There was a slight frown in his features, though, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to his normally giddy self. So Gojo could be serious, huh? Who would’ve thought? Bet you would’ve loved to see him like that…

“Megumi,” Gojo broke the silence first, his tone soft, but there was a certain sternness behind it that Megumi didn’t know he had until now. It left no room for interpretation. This was going to be a serious talk and Fushiguro didn’t know if he was ready for that yet. “I know that losing someone you care about is not easy and I’m not trying to pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I’m telling you as your sensei and as a friend… you have to move on. And that means you have to stop looking for ways to bring her back.”

Megumi opened his mouth to tell him off, but Gojo just held a finger up to show him he wasn’t done yet. The crease between Megumi’s brows deepened, but he kept his mouth shut regardless. “The world works under a few distinct principles. Rules that cannot be broken, if you will. Like we know that after the sun sets, dawn will come. With darkness, there is light and no matter how harsh a winter might be, spring will always come next. And the pinnacle of those rules will always be that with life there comes death. We don’t get to choose when this’ll be or how it’ll happen, but from the moment we’re born we know without a doubt that we’ll have to leave this place at some point. Death is certain. It’s but one part of life and disrupting that cycle, breaking one of the unbreakable rules, would cause the whole system to fall apart. It would level the ground for mayhem and destruction, nothing would make sense anymore. The world would crumble. As sorcerers you know that we protect the ones who cannot protect themselves, but we also maintain balance and Megumi… while I do understand your desire to see her again, I have to warn you… even if there is a chance, I won’t let you do it at the expense of everyone else’s life.”

Silence fell between them again. Megumi had a hard time believing that these words really just came out of Gojo’s mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. He knew it was a futile plan to bring you back. It was selfish and irresponsible, but he was so… desperate. So desperate to hear your voice again, so desperate to listen to you laugh or complain, so desperate to feel your delicate and warm touch on his cold skin. He was so desperate for these things; he couldn’t think straight. His mind felt foreign to him without you there. He didn’t know who he was, who he would be without you by his side. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in this world anymore with his source of warmth and comfort gone. They said, time healed all wounds but as of now that seemed impossible. Just a thing people told themselves to keep moving forward. A lie that was supposed to protect oneself from the cruel and harsh truth that the world didn’t stop spinning, that time passed by and that dawn always came… no matter what. The world moved forward regardless if you were here or not and it felt like a cruel joke to him. Nothing seemed the same. He didn’t recognize anything, looking at the world with different eyes. How could there be a world without you in it? Why was everyone moving forward while he was left behind? And how could they? How could they move on? Why didn’t the world stop spinning? It should. Because nothing felt right. Nothing was the same. And yet… that only held true for him.

Megumi wiped away his silent tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he croaked out. It was the first thing that came to his mind. He replayed the morning with you over and over again and he couldn’t remember if he said goodbye to you when you left that fateful day. Did he? Did he not? In any case, he would’ve never thought how final of a farewell it would’ve been in the end. “I don’t even remember the last thing I said to her,” he sobbed.

He felt beyond guilty for not being able to recall it clearly. Did he say ‘I love you’? Did you say it back? He wanted to believe he did, but he just wasn’t sure and it drove him insane.

“She knew that you loved her very much, Megumi. I’m sure she knew until the very end.” Gojo patted his shoulder a few times, before he got up. “Take all the time you need.” He left the room, closing the door behind him, but not before he turned around one last time, looking at Megumi with worried eyes. “But remember, Megumi… You have to move on eventually, no matter how hard it is. For her sake and your own… Just know that you have people in your life that you can rely on any time, okay?”

Megumi nodded and Gojo let the door fall shut behind him. The silence that ensued was almost deafening. Finally, Megumi let his tears fall freely, sobbing like a child and sucking in air after shallow breaths.

Everything hurt with you gone. How could he ever move on? How could he ever love again? Megumi was scared he might break in half. How much pain could someone even bear? Though, deep down he knew that he didn’t have a choice… He had to try. And he would try his hardest to keep moving forward, holding on to that tiny glimpse of hope that one day he’d see you again. And when he did, he swore to himself to never stop telling you how much he loved you. Always and forever.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Get Together

This fic was also inspired by this prompt from @mingcheng-prompts​

Jiang Cheng stares at the letter in his hands.

“You can’t be serious,” he says, but when he raises his eyes at Nie Mingjue he seems deadly serious.

“Of course I am,” Nie Mingjue replies and pushes a scroll towards him. “My courtship gift.”

Jiang Cheng blinks but doesn’t move.

He knows he can’t say yes—could never, not with everything that happened—but he wants to.

Jiang Cheng learned to appreciate Nie Mingjue over the course of the last few gruesome weeks, learned to rely on him and trust him to have his back in battle—and yes, maybe even fell in love with him—so of course he wants to say yes.

But he can’t.

“I have nothing,” he tells Nie Mingjue and doesn’t make a move for the scroll. “My Sect burned. My parents died. My people are scattered.”

He’s not even sure he still has Wei Wuxian.

“There is nothing I can give you.”

“Good thing then, that I’m here for you and not your Sect or for what you can give me,” Nie Mingjue easily replies and doesn’t seem put off in the least.

“No,” Jiang Cheng tells him, though the word barely makes it out of his mouth.

Nie Mingjue observes him in silence for a few minutes, before he sags with a sigh.

“I respect your wish,” he says but he still pushes the scroll closer to Jiang Cheng. “You should still take this. Consider it a gift from one Sect Leader to another, if you must.”

“I shouldn’t take this,” Jiang Cheng replies as he gets up.

If he accepts this, and finds something thoughtful, something useful, something he would like, then his resolve will crumble.

And he can’t afford that. They are still at war. His Sect is still barely more than ground into dust.

“Nie-zongzhu,” he bows low, before he walks out of the tent, away from Nie Mingjue, without looking back.

Jiang Cheng wonders not for the first time when fate will stop taking things away from him.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng has to admit that he thought things would change between him and Nie Mingjue with the rejected courtship, but they don’t.

Nie Mingjue treats him the same as before, except that now Jiang Cheng flushes whenever Nie Mingjue comes close or smiles at him or is simply nice to him.

Jiang Cheng is flushing a lot, even though the war is still raging.

He really wishes he could have said yes to Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

Fate does not stop taking things from Jiang Cheng. First his brother-in-law, then his sister and to top it off his brother as well.

The only thing left is Jin Ling.

And—inexplicably—Nie Mingjue.

“What do you want?” Jiang Cheng asks, a shade of desperation to his voice, because Jin Ling won’t stop crying and Jiang Cheng is inevitably going to fuck him up, just like he fucks up everything else.

“I’m here with an offer of courtship,” Nie Mingjue says and puts another letter and the same scroll on the table.

Jiang Cheng wonders if Nie Mingjue lost his mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hisses, allowing the anger to take over instead of giving in to the want and hurt.

“Nothing. I simply have made up my mind about what I want. And what I want is you.”

He sounds completely serious as he says it, too, and Jiang Cheng wonders if Nie Mingjue lost his sanity on the battlefield.

“Look around you, Nie-zongzhu,” he snaps out, aware that Jin Ling flinches at his tone and Nie Mingjue at the title.

Jiang Cheng tries to calm Jin Ling down and tries to ignore Nie Mingjue and his reaction as best as he can.

If he calls him anything but Nie-zongzhu then he’ll crumble and give in. And he can’t do that.

“I have nothing left in my life,” Jiang Cheng belatedly finishes and Nie Mingjue frowns.

“That’s not true. You have your nephew and your Sect. That is not nothing. And you have me, too, if you accept the courtship or not.”

“Why are you so—” Jiang Cheng wants to say ‘good’ but the word chokes him up.

Nie Mingjue seems to understand it anyway.

“Because you deserve it.”

“I don’t,” Jiang Cheng says over Jin Ling’s head, the boy still crying and Jiang Cheng woefully unprepared to deal with him.

“I think you do,” Nie Mingjue softly says and then stands up to correct Jiang Cheng’s grasp on Jin Ling.

It doesn’t immediately calm him down, but Jiang Cheng feels more secure holding Jin Ling like that and the small kindness is enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“I can’t,” Jiang Cheng whispers, and hides his face in Jin Ling’s baby hair. “I can’t.”

There’s a brief silence where Jiang Cheng thinks that Nie Mingjue will simply storm out on him, but then he feels lips pressed against the crown of his head.

“I’ll be here when you can,” Nie Mingjue promises him right before he leaves.

Jiang Cheng can’t bear to watch him go, and it’s only much, much later that he realizes that while Nie Mingjue took the letter with the official courtship, he left the scroll behind.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t touch it.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is shaking as he steps off Sandu and if he’s not careful he’s going to crush the scroll in his hand.

Maybe it would be better anyway.

“Where is Nie Mingjue?” he demands to know from the first disciple that has the guts to step close and to their credit, he is immediately led to a study room.

“What the fuck is this?” he hisses as he throws the scroll at Nie Mingjue. “What the hell are you up to?”

It seems like he caught Nie Mingjue off guard because the scroll hits him square in the chest but when he lowers his gaze at it, understanding crosses his face.

“It’s a gift,” Nie Mingjue slowly says and picks the scroll out of his robes to put it on the table.

“A gift,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “Preparing me for the fact that you’re planning to invade us?”

It’s—just the thought makes Jiang Cheng sick, because he barely had time to build Lotus Pier back up again. He only managed the most necessary buildings so far.

Not to mention the fact that he trusted Nie Mingjue, that he thought he was in love with him.

“It’s nothing like that,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and Jiang Cheng has to give it to him, he stays remarkably calm.

“Then explain what it is!” Jiang Cheng demands and Nie Mingjue sighs.

“I mean, I guess it was intended that way, once, when we first started? But it’s not anymore. We keep track of the layout of all the Sects. I know you all thought us stupid but Qinghe Nie always expected a war ever since Wen Ruohan first came into power centuries ago. We made it a habit to sketch out every Sect’s layout so that in the case of a war we could help them rebuild. None of you are as sturdy as we are.”

It’s a sensible explanation and it makes sense, Jiang Cheng guesses, but the hurt about the perceived threat from Nie Mingjue of all people still sits deep.

“Why give it to me?”

Nie Mingjue stares at him as if he’s stupid, and Jiang Cheng thinks that’s probably fair.

“It was supposed to be a courtship gift; my gift to help you rebuild Lotus Pier like it used to be if you wished it so. You rejected me, twice, and I thought it cruel to keep this from you despite that.”

Jiang Cheng can’t keep Nie Mingjue’s eyes any longer and so he stares down at the scroll again.

He had looked at it, of course, and he had studied it very carefully; there were paths and buildings on that plan that even he didn’t remember.

“Show me the other ones,” Jiang Cheng says, because he needs the proof that this was not simply to attack him again, now that Yunmeng Jiang is weakened beyond belief.

Nie Mingjue simply nods and leads Jiang Cheng to a huge library. It seems like Nie Mingjue knows his way around here very well, because there’s no hesitation as he makes his way over to a shelf and gets three more scrolls out.

“We even have one of the Wen Sect, in case someone more sensible ever took over once Wen Ruohan inevitably destroyed everything,” he says as he hands the scrolls to Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng opens all three of them, just to be sure, but they are what Nie Mingjue promised.

“You wanted to help us rebuild,” Jiang Cheng whispers and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Qinghe Nie always wanted to help in the case of war,” he agrees and before Jiang Cheng can snap at him that he is deliberately misunderstanding him, he goes on. “But yes. I specifically wanted to help you rebuild.”

“Why?”

“It was supposed to be a courtship gift, remember?” Nie Mingjue asks with a sad smile and takes the scrolls back from Jiang Cheng.

“But why?” Jiang Cheng asks again, because that’s the part he doesn’t get.

Everyone left him alone; his family is dead, Lanling Jin is just waiting for him to die or move a toe out of line, Gusu Lan is too busy rebuilding themselves and for all that Nie Mingjue tried to court him—twice—even Qinghe Nie didn’t so much as offer help.

Well, Jiang Cheng guesses he has to rethink that part, because clearly Nie Mingjue did want to help.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re fierce and beautiful and strong. You’re a natural leader, you’re a good Sect Leader, a good uncle. Because I admire you and I’m in love with you,” Nie Mingjue easily says as if it means nothing to him to say all of that out loud, about Jiang Cheng of all people.

It means the world to Jiang Cheng.

“Ask me again,” he whispers, begs almost, because he’s tired of keeping himself from this.

He’s tired of rebuilding and of raising Jin Ling and having to do it all alone and if Nie Mingjue wants this, still, after Jiang Cheng was already stupid twice, then he’ll take it.

He will allow himself at least this happiness.

“Jiang Wanyin, will you let me court you?” Nie Mingjue asks without hesitation and just the thought that Nie Mingjue waited even though Jiang Cheng rejected him twice, that he still wants him, brings tears to Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

“Yes, please,” he breathes out and Nie Mingjue doesn’t waste any time before he pulls him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he mutters into Jiang Cheng’s hair as if he’s the blessed one here, when really, Jiang Cheng can’t believe that he should get this lucky.

“I’m sorry I was stupid,” Jiang Cheng says into Nie Mingjue’s shoulder.

“You weren’t. There was a lot going on, and I understand,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and Jiang Cheng slings his arms around his middle.

“I like you, too,” Jiang Cheng belatedly says, and even though he’s not yet ready to tell Nie Mingjue that he’s in love with him, too, it doesn’t seem to matter to Nie Mingjue.

“That’s good to hear,” Nie Mingjue gives back, and pushes Jiang Cheng away from him, just far enough to duck down and press a light kiss to his lips.

“We’re going to take this slow, okay? Rebuilding first.”

Jiang Cheng has difficulties swallowing around the lump in his throat, so he simply nods, grateful that Nie Mingjue seems to understand what he so desperately needs.

His Sect back to a point where he doesn’t have to fear for their simple survival every night, and a reassuring, steady presence at his side.

“Thank you,” he says again with feeling and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

“Always,” he promises.

And for once in Jiang Cheng’s life, someone keeps that promise.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[dainty-fingertips]

a forever thing. ||kars x fem! reader

wrote this one a few weeks ago bc a friend said i should write something with kars,, ended up being too long and i don’t think she ever finished reading it;; also, spoilers for if you haven’t finished battle tendency !!

word count: 2233

summary: training alongside caesar and joseph, you end up being kidnapped by the remaining two pillar men after the death of esidisi. a closet bookworm, you end up spending most of your time cooped up in the library of the rundown hotel, though most of your time is spent thinking of the leader himself. after kars drops some undeniable hints, you decide to test the waters.

trigger warnings: none :)

||

          Being taken for a sort of ransom by aztec gods wasn’t exactly on the agenda today. 

          After Joseph had killed Esidisi, the remaining two were -- as expected -- on edge. Wamuu, the youngest, and Kars, the eldest. You could grasp a fleeting understanding on why they chose you specifically, but nothing enough to make complete sense in your brain. It could have been Caesar, it could have been Lisa Lisa, but no. As of now, they were treating you quite well, actually. You figured Wamuu was the only reason you weren’t bound by rope and eating out of a dog bowl right now. Instead, you were perched upon a plush reading chair in a rundown library, clad in a comfortable robe (thanks to Wamuu, you weren’t stuck in your sweaty outfit from before). You had planned on touring to Switzerland one day after the war, but being trapped inside a rundown hotel with no real access to vitamin D was really taxing your health (mentally and physically) and never intended to be something you spent your time doing while here.

          In your rough-skinned hands, you held a worn copy of In Search of Lost Time. Your reading comprehension had improved over the past few weeks, at least. A rough knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m here.” You said calmly, hoping it was the younger Pillar Man. Of course your desires were not met. Kars stepped into the library, his headscarf absorbing some of the light from the candle lit on the table next to you. He eyed you in what appeared to be mild distaste. “Why are you awake?” You looked up from the book with an odd expression. “What do you mean?” You asked him. The god huffed softly, motioning to the boards on the windows. “The sun has gone down. Are you not tired?” You pulled your gaze over to the covered windows. “...Oh.”

          You had failed to notice the absence of flittering rays much earlier. “Wait, what time is it?” You mumbled to yourself. You looked at the grandfather clock on the wall to your right and your expression dropped. “It’s 1 am.” he mumbled, crossing his arms. You pursed your lips and quietly closed the book. You uncrossed your legs and set it back on the shelf. Kars watched you slowly make your way back and forth. “What about you?” You asked, wrapping your fingers around the candle tray. He stared at you. Were you asking why he was up? “What do you mean?” He asked with a sigh. “You’re still up, but you aren’t tired.” You stated while approaching him. He didn’t move. “I’ve told you this. Neither me nor Wamuu need sleep, human. Es-” He stopped himself mid sentence and his cold expression seemed to falter for only a moment. You had learned, in your three weeks here, that the pillar men deemed it inappropriate to show emotion to anyone other than family members or mates. 

          Kars had never slipped up around you before. 

          The gears in your brain began turning. Kars wouldn’t show something like that to Wammu even, at least that’s what you’d been told. Why, even if for a split second, would he let you see that? Did he see you as someone close? The mere idea was laughable. Kars’ cold exterior soon returned, though. Simply brushing aside the sight, you continued to listen to him. “Esidisi didn’t need sleep, either.” He continued, his voice almost strained. Was Kars trying to hide his pain? You looked at him with soft eyes. Kars seemed to get minorly flustered and removed his gaze from you.

          You sighed gently and gazed cautiously into his blooming red eyes, the simple sight of them making your stomach twirl a bit. He made you feel floaty when he looked at you. Your cheeks flushed and you looked away. You saw in your hazy peripheral that he had furrowed an eyebrow. “What?” He asked hesitantly, looking back at you. “Hm?” You couldn’t look back at him. “I was just wondering about something, that’s all.” You begged that the bluff worked on him, but you knew that Kars was smart. He didn’t respond for a few seconds, his eyes flickering across your face and body, looking for a hint of something in your body language. 

          He sighed and motioned for you to follow him. You stood there and glanced at him curiously, his back turned and footsteps echoing. He turned his head to look at you. “I’m taking you to your chambers. Come.” He said with a bored expression. “O-Oh, right.” You whispered. You jogged up to him, but slowed your pace once you were next to him. “What was it?” He asked. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him without moving your head. “What?” He sighed through his nose. “You said you were wondering about something.” Your mouth opened to the shape of an O. “Right. I was just curious, uh, Kars. Do you think you could sleep if you tried?” You queered hesitantly, avoiding your original thought of Kars’ sadness. You looked back ahead of you. Kars gazed to his right, thinking. “An odd question, human. Why do you ask?” You shrugged slightly. “I dunno. Curiosity, I guess.” Kars aired out a small ‘hm.’ and inhaled sharply.

          “Curiosity is a dangerous fault in humans. No matter how long I sleep, that will forever remain a constant.” You cocked your head to the side a bit, working up the courage to turn to him as you both walked. “What do you mean?” He looked down at you, a strand of his hair tufting out slightly. “It’s what got that damned Joestar wrapped into this mess. If not for him, we wouldn’t need to deal with this. Our mission would be far less… complicated.” You nodded your head. “And that’s been a forever-thing?” He squinted his eyes. “A what?” 

          “Well, that’s what my dad used to call it.” You said with a gentle chuckle. “Y’know, a forever-thing. Something that’s been around for forever. Literally and figuratively.” 

          “A forever-thing?” He pressed.

          “Mhm.”

          “Humans and their idiotic names for simple terms.” he spat.

          “Oh really?”

           He scoffed. “Yes.”

          “Then what would you call it?” You joked, putting a playfully heavy emphasis on your words. Kars groaned, but deep inside his old bones, he felt something. He could admire beauty when he saw it, especially for a human, but this was getting out of hand. You were completely oblivious to the fact that Kars had taken an especial liking to you, which he was grateful for. His cold demeanor felt almost immoral around you. You were similar to that Joestar boy, but you were somehow more tangible. He could… stand you, sure, but he didn’t know why. He had been surrounded by nothing but cold glares and serious attitudes his whole life, and he magnified it in the way he lived. It’s what earned him the highest rank in what now remained of the tribes, being merely him and Wamuu. 

          Though, having you around was a strangely acceptable change of tone. He began finding himself seeking out your attention, like 10 minutes ago. You weren’t in your bed, so he came looking for you where you normally sat; the library. You were propped in that chair, now claimed as yours, with your knees to your chest and a book in your hands. You seemed almost magnetizing, you seemed almost… well, he wasn’t sure. He’d never felt this way. Why did you grab his attention? You held him in your fingers like putty, rubbing him in all the right ways. Maybe, because of you, his opinion on the human species wouldn’t be so dire. Maybe, in your toothy grins, your glittering eyes, and your gentle hands,  you would change his mind. 

          Only then, did he realize you had taken his hand in yours.

          He quickly pulled it away. “Don’t touch me.” He spat, eyeing you. You chuckled and shrugged. “Sorry, force of habit. Whenever my dad was deep in thought, I’d grab his hand to pull him back to Earth.” Kars scoffed, rubbing his hand as though trying to get the feeling of your rough hands off of him. They were hard and calloused from training, he presumed, though it added to his simple adoration. He had never met a woman like this. His eyes lingered back to your hands for a moment before looking back ahead. “Well, I’m not your father.” You simply smiled ahead and didn’t respond.

          Kars let his hands fall to his sides and the two of you make it up the set of stairs to your room. The door sat closed, and you looked at Kars. “Would you mind, Kars, if I told you something?” You questioned casually, entering your room and looking at him from the inside. He nodded once and silently asked you to continue. Your face grew warm and you looked to the side, unable to look at him for a moment. “You…” You began, unsure how to tell him. He raised an eyebrow. “I what?” He said. You knew he was an impatient man when it came to things like this; you had heard it from Wamuu whenever he’d bring you food. “Spit it out.” You sighed and looked at him, your gaze wavering and nervous. “You aren’t half bad, Kars.” You said with an awkward tone of voice. You knew you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t know when you’d actually be able to tell him alone.

          Kars’ stance was unmoved. The meaning behind your words didn’t fully strike him until after the two of you silently stared at each other for 20 seconds. His face, twisted in mild confusion, soon loosened up. Realization clubbed him like a wooden baseball bat behind his knees. His maroon eyes darted across your face and his lips parted slightly. “What -- What are you saying?” He said quietly. He was sure his brain was playing tricks, but your face, it seemed so fearfully genuine. Sweat accumulated on the back of his neck in his headscarf. Kars was a god; the most powerful pillar man. He was above this. Why did… Why did it feel wrong to act that way around you? Why did he feel almost guilty when he acted superior?

          You stood motionless. “I mean, y’know. I enjoy… your… your company.” You stumbled over her words. Were you being intimate with him? He’d never seen this side of you. You noticed Kars slipping up on his own standards again, as well. His surprised emotions were clear as day, etched cleanly into his chiseled features. His fangs poked out onto his lower lip, a simple protrusion which you had wished you didn't find cute. You genuinely thought that Kars was attractive.

          Then again, who wouldn’t? He stood tall, around 6’8”. He towered over most all he came in contact with, but that was simply second nature to you now. You were used to craning your neck to get a better look at those blood-red eyes that almost seemed to despise you. A dark loft of his hair would make its cameo every now and again. He’d always get flustered whenever you’d mention it, telling you that he didn’t need the approval of a human. He’d then, a minute or so later, slyly tuck it back in. It’s not that he didn’t know, of course; it’s just that he only cared enough about it if you took the time to tell him.

          Wamuu had noticed his growing infatuation with you and the thought brought him a smile. After sitting down with Kars and listening to him do nothing but wax poetic about you earlier tonight, he told him to go find you. Maybe take a walk with you, if he felt like it. Kars kindly took up the offer; it seemed you had humbled him in that department, too. Normally he wouldn’t bother taking anyone’s advice, but here he was. Pulling him from the crevasse of his rushing brain was your hand, humbly wrapping your fingers around his.

          Kars stared at his hands, fingers being separated by your own, in blatant shock. “You aren’t as bad as I thought you’d be.” You whispered, barely audible to him. He locked eyes with you and without thinking, going against everything he’d ever stood for in the past, he curled his fingers around yours as well. You smiled softly and looked down, avoiding his gaze. Kars’ lips pulled back together, his lips twitching, desperately wanting to smile. “I suppose.” He said hesitantly. “Why are you being nice to me?” He soon asked, turning his gaze back to your face.

          He pulled his hand away, taking a step back. “I…” You murmured, retracting your hand as well. He looked between his fingers as though he’d touched gold, small glittering remnants still freckled along his palm. “I don’t know.” you finished with a heavy sigh. He closed his hand into a fist and looked at you with nervous confidence. “Well, if there’s nothing more, then I will take my leave.” He said quickly, nearly stuttering his words. He turned on his heel and began going the way he came. You gazed at his back as he swiftly left the hallway and sighed in disbelief. You had just grabbed his hand.

          Kars, it seemed, had fallen in love with the enemy.

          The enemy, it seemed, had felt exactly the same.

[wicked-mind]

Last Love: Part Two

Summary: Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Aftermath of domestic abuse, swearing, bitchy mom alert.

Note: This is a small part two because we needed so see more of these two together (:

Part One Here

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

From the moment you told Bucky you love him, he was more motivated to show you how much he loves you. You still had your struggles but Bucky was doing everything he could to show you how much you meant to him. He would pull you into his arms every night and whisper sweet things in your ear until you fell asleep and when you had nightmares, he would wake you up and wipe your tears away as he listened to what you had dreamt of before saying all the right things to make you feel safe again. Steve lived with Bucky so it took a little bit for you to stop flinching when they would start to howl with laughter, but you eventually joined in the laughter when they joked with each other.

It was almost Christmas time again and you were having struggles with the memories of how the last holiday season went. Your nightmares were more frequent and you were in no way in the holiday spirit. You tossed and turned in the bed until Bucky’s arms found you, pulling you against his chest so your face could nuzzle into his neck.

Bucky loved having you next to him. He loved everything about you. He loved the way your nose scrunched slightly when you tried to hold back a laugh or when he would catch you singing softly to yourself when you didn’t think anybody was around. Most of all, he loved having you in his arms and the honor of being the man to keep you safe and love you. After pulling you into his chest, he lets one hand stroke through your hair while the other rubs your back, “Still having bad dreams, babydoll?” He murmurs out to you sleepily, keeping his eyes closed as he rested his head on his pillow.

You nodded into his neck, sniffling a little against his skin as you held back tears. You hated crying from your nightmares. It made you feel like you were still being haunted- like Charlie still had a hold on you, “Yeah… Sorry I woke you.”

Bucky opens his eyes to see his room lit up from the sunlight peaking through the windows and scoots away a little bit to be able to look into your sleepy eyes, moving his hand from stroking your hair to cupping your cheek in his palm, “No need to apologize, sweetheart.” He said with a small smile before pressing his lips to your forehead for a comforting kiss, “How about I make us some breakfast?”

You smile softly up at him, “Blueberry pancakes?”

Bucky nods to you with a smile, “Of course, I’ll even make you some bacon.” He said before dragging himself out of the bed and pulling on some grey sweats. He headed for the door but stopped before he opened it, looking back at you in his bed like he did every morning. It was his favorite thing to see everyday- you looking over at him while tangled in his sheets, “God, you’re gorgeous.” He told you with that crooked grin before heading out the door to go start breakfast.

Once you managed to get yourself dressed in some jean shorts, a white tank top, and one of Bucky’s red flannels, you brushed your hair and teeth before making your way to the kitchen rubbing your eyes sleepily. Your eyes focused on Bucky when he let out a whistle toward you, blushing and taking a seat at table.

Bucky grinned, he loved seeing you wearing his clothes. It just imprinted more in his mind that you were finally his as you were always meant to be, “Damn, doll.” He said over to you while he flipped some pancakes onto a plate, “I thought you looked gorgeous in my sheets…” He carried the plate over and placed it in front of you before placing a finger under your chin, pulling your gaze up to meet his. His lips parted as he ran his eyes up and down you one more time, his tongue flickering out to trace his bottom lip at the sight of you before his pearly whites softly bit down with a small groan passing his lips, “But you in my clothes is a whole other level.”

You blushed at his words, your eyes watching his tongue trail along his bottom lip. He knew what he was doing to you, making your breath catch in your lungs. Luckily, you were seated so you didn’t have to rely on your legs that always felt numb when he talked to you like that, “I like wearing your clothes, smells like you.” You say softly back to him, reaching up a hand to tangle in the back of his hair and pull his lips to yours for a deep kiss.

Bucky groans at the feel of your lips on his. You were like his favorite liquor- making him love drunk with every touch. Every touch from you felt like a gift to him. He couldn’t begin to describe the fire you made him feel. He places one hand on your thigh and the other on the back of your neck, pulling your lips rougher against his and took advantage of the small whimper that passed your lips for his tongue to sneak into your mouth, entangling with yours. Finally pulling away for oxygen, he leans his forehead against yours, “Your pancakes are goin’ to get cold, doll.” He said with that crooked grin, “We can finish that up later."

While you two ate, you discussed the plans for the day. Bucky said he had to go to work for a little but should be back soon and you told him you had to return some books to the library and pick up some new ones to read. You stood up with your plate, on the way to the sink when you ran your hip into the side of the counter, dropping the glass plate to the floor and watching it shatter to pieces. You gasped and brought your hands up to your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes as you look over to Bucky. Anytime you broke something with Charlie it was met with yelling and a few hard slaps to your face. You started spewing out apologetic sobs, “Oh god… I’m.. I’m sorry…”

Bucky stood, noticing the way you reacted and how your eyes immediately started releasing tears. He walks slowly towards you, “Shhh, doll.” He said gently, “It was an accident.” He gently wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, placing you seated on the counter, “Are you okay? Didn’t step in any glass did you?” He gently takes your cheeks into his palm, looking into your eyes with a comforting smile.

You shook your head, “N-no.” You whisper to him, your body shaking slightly in muscle memory as you expected to be punished for breaking the plate, “I’m really sorry… It was my fault and-“ “Stop, sweetheart.” Bucky said softly, cutting you off, “It was an accident. Accidents happen.” He said before gently placing a kiss to your forehead, “You don’t have to apologize. Nobody is upset with you and nobody is going to hurt you. Now breathe with me, okay? In….. Out…”

You breathed in deeply with Bucky’s words and slowly released the air in your lungs, feeling yourself calm down. You did it a few more times with him before reaching up a hand and wiping your tears away on the sleeve of his flannel you wore, “I’m sorry, Bucky..” You breathed out to him, slowly leaning your head on his shoulder, “It’s been bad lately with the holiday coming up… I know you’d never hurt me.”

Bucky wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back softly as you leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling to himself at your warmth you always brought him when you were close, “I know, doll.” He whispers back to you, “I know it’s a hard time for you and that’s alright. I’m here for you.”

After you helped Bucky clean up the shattered plate from the floor and the rest of the dishes from breakfast, you gave him a tight hug and a soft kiss before he left for work. He lovingly stroked your cheek with his calloused fingers and told you that he loves you as he did everyday before he left for work. You managed to talk Steve into going to the library with you, though it didn’t take much convincing. He was happy to help you out especially since he knew you were having such a hard time. Plus there were some new books he wanted to give a read also.

“Thanks for coming with me, Stevie.” You said with a small smile up to him as you walked into the library and placed your books into the return slot.

Steve gave you a gentle smile, his hands tucked into his jeans, “No problem, haven’t been here for a while. I need to catch up on some reading.”

“I’ll be over there if you need me.” You said, pointing over to a section of the library before making your way over. You usually would check out a mixture of books from fantasy to art books but today you felt the need to glance over the self-help books. Maybe there would be something that would help you figure out how to get rid of the hold you felt Charlie still had over you. You grabbed one of the books off the shelf, flipping through the pages and reading some of the passages when you heard a woman clear her throat. You turn your gaze to look at the older woman and instantly froze. Charlie’s mother, Rose.

“Y/N.” The woman said to you, “Haven’t seen you in a long while.”

You bit into your cheek hard enough until you could taste copper in your mouth from blood, “Yeah… Hi, Rose.”

“It’s Mrs. Baker to you now, Y/N.” She said, folding her arms and giving you a soft glare.

As long as you have known Charlie’s mom, you two didn’t get alone. Anything you had ever done in her eyes was never enough and she would always criticize saying that Charlie needed to teach you to be a better woman, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Baker.” You said softly, looking down to the floor.

Rose took the book from your hand in one swipe, “What are you doing in this section?” She asks before reading the cover of the book, “Your Life After Trauma: Powerful Practices to Reclaim Your Identity….” She scoffed and looked at you, “Still living a lie? Going around telling everybody that my son hurt you?”

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out, instead biting onto your cheek again as you looked at her with sad eyes.

Rose pushed the book back to your chest, forcing you to grab ahold of it. She took a step closer to you, pointing one of her fingers in your face, “My son tried with you. Tried to turn you into a woman worthy of being his wife even though I told him you were a waste of time.” She hissed out.

“What’s going on here?” Steve asked, suddenly appearing beside you after hearing some of the conversation. He had a deep frown on his face and was glaring daggers at the woman who seemed to be scolding you.

The woman looks at Steve before her eyes returned to you, “I wouldn’t trust this one, young man. She’s a liar and a manipulator- she will ruin your reputation.” She hissed out before turning to walk away.

You frowned and walked forward, “I’m not a liar, Mrs. Baker.” You said, finding your courage as you gripped the book in shaking hands, “Your son is a monster. Anything that has been done to his reputation is his own fault from the way he beat me. You should be just as upset that he dared to lay a violent hand on a woman.”

Mrs. Baker turned to face you, listening to your words with narrowed eyes. Once you finished your piece, she scoffed at you with a roll of her eyes before walking away.

Steve walked forward to stand beside you and looked at you as you still stared off after her, tears slowly slipping down your face as you clutched the book tightly to your chest. He sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder softly, “You alright?”

You sniffled and nod slowly, blinking yourself back into reality, “Yeah… That was… That was Charlie’s mom…” You stammer out quietly, looking down at the floor again.

Steve let out another sigh and a shake of his head. Geez, you couldn’t catch a break, “C’mon. Let’s get the rest of the books you want then we will go out for some feel good food.” He said softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to help you feel safe. He had taken on the role as a big brother to you over the past year and hated seeing you upset almost as much as Bucky did, “Burgers, fries, and milkshakes on me.”

You nod and gave him a half smile before returning to quickly picking out the books you wanted. Steve stayed close to you in case Charlie’s monster of a mother came back to give you another earful, walking you up to the counter to check out your books before heading to the car and stopping at one of the diners. You sat across from him, dipping fries into your chocolate milkshake. You were already feeling a little better after the horrible interaction with Charlie’s mom. You eyed Steve suspiciously when he kept ordering more baskets of fries even though both of you were barely touching them, already full from the burgers, “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

Steve looked at you with a small smile, leaning back in the opposite side of the booth, “Me? Up to something?” He asks, “Never.”

You point a french fry at him, your eyes narrowing, “You’re lying.” You stated before dipping your fry in your chocolate milkshake, “But you bought me food so I’ll let it go. For now.”

You had been out of the house for hours with Steve and you knew he was distracting you but couldn’t figure out why. Eventually Steve checked his phone before waving the waitress down for the check where you two argued about splitting it before he ended up paying for the whole lunch. You kept eyeing him suspiciously the whole car ride home as he wore a big goofy grin on his lips like he knew something you didn’t. When he pulled up to the house, you saw Bucky’s truck in the driveway and you look over to Steve, “I thought he was working today?”

Steve smiled over to you, pulling in the driveway and turning off the car, “He was working. Just not at work.” He informed, getting out of the car.

You get out and follow him up the steps of the house, giving him one last suspicious look as he opened the door for you. You walked in and froze, looking around the living room. It was like Christmas had literally just thrown-up all over the house. There was a tall tree in the living room decorated beautiful, fresh poinsettias on every surface and stockings hung up on the mantle with yours, Bucky’s, and Steve’s names on them written sloppily in silver glitter. Then your eyes fall on Bucky who was standing there with a Santa Hat on and holding a box wrapped in gold wrapping paper, “Bucky…” You breathed out as you walked towards him.

Bucky set the present down on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him as he wore that big cocky grin on his lips, “Figured you needed some Christmas Spirit…” He murmurs out to you before pressing a kiss to your lips, “You didn’t get a Christmas last year because of all the shit. So I’m going to give you the best Christmas you’ve ever had, sweetheart.”

Your lips slowly curved up into a smile at him, your eyes for the first time in a long time filling with happy tears, “It’s beautiful and perfect.” You whisper to him, wrapping your arms up and around his neck, “Thank you.”

Bucky smiles, kissing your cheeks as the tears fell to kiss them away, “Almost perfect.” He said, releasing you from his grasp and picking the gold wrapped present back up and holding it out for you, “This is for you. Early Christmas gift.”

You took the box, gently unwrapping the paper and setting it aside before opening the box. You gasped at the nutcrackers staring back at you. Almost similar to the ones your grandmother had given you, the ones Charlie had broken last year. You gently ran your fingers over one of their faces, “They’re almost the same…” You whisper out, swallowing a sob. You suddenly frown up to Bucky, “I didn’t get you anything…”

Bucky grabs the box of nutcrackers, putting it down on the coffee table before wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as his other hand went up to the back of your neck, “Yes you did.” He replied with a grin, “You gave me your heart and love. That’s the best gift I could’ve ever received, sweetheart.”

You smile and blush at his words, standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his soft ones, pushing yourself against his body until he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist with a soft giggle, “I can think of another gift to give you…” You whisper with another giggle after trailing kisses up his jaw, smiling when you heard a small groan pass his lips.

“Dear god, at least take it upstairs.” Steve interrupts, adverting his eyes from the view of you tangled in Bucky’s arms, legs around his waist as Bucky’s hands had moved to rest on your ass.

“Gladly.” Bucky growls out, tightening his grip on you as he started for the stairs to take you up into the bedroom. He moved his hands to squeeze your bottom slightly as you left lingering kisses along his neck, nipping at his skin. He groans again then chuckles, “Oh, sweetheart… I love you.”

_____________________________________________________________

Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @bibliophilewednesday@stcrryslibrary @redhairedfeistynerd

@shawnie--jo @bvckys-doll Here is the part two for Last Love since we needed some fluffy happiness (:

[weasleyscumslut]

Good Ol' Fashioned Lover Boy | | Ronald Billius Weasley

summary: based on the song “good ol’ fashioned lover boy” by queen. it was very obvious that Ron had a crush on you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. so, what else were you supposed to do other than pester him about it?

word count: 1639

warnings: food. that's about it, it's fluff.

master list

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I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things

We can do the tango just for two

I can serenade and gently play on your heartstrings

Be a Valentino just for you

It was obvious to everyone. What was obvious exactly? That Ron Weasley had a crush on you. You didn’t remember exactly when you found out, but that was never on your mind. The only thing you could seem to think of is when your crush would ask you out.

You had gotten up from the red couch in the common room of the Gryffindor tower. You saw Ron look up at you and smile before pretending to look back at the book in front of him.

“Hey, Ron!” You said happily as you walked over to him. You sat down in the chair on his right, thankful that the trio hadn’t decided to study in the library.

“Hey, Y/N.” He replied, a slight pink tint on his pale and freckled-covered cheeks. You giggled as your eyes went over his figure. His strawberry-orange hair dangling in front of his eyes, his pale skin glowing from the glare of the fireplace to their right.

Harry and Hermione quickly looked at each other before getting up with their books.

“We just realized that we need to go save some seats at the table if the three of us wanna eat lunch together. Y/N you’re welcome to eat with us.” Hermione said, a slight smile on her lips as she looked at the two people in front of her.

You nodded your head and sat down beside Ron as you watched Harry and Hermione leave, whispering to each other as they kept glancing back at you two.

Ooh, love

Ooh, loverboy

“So, Ron. How are you? I always catch you looking at me during class, so I figured there was some part of you that wanted to talk to me.” you said, both of your cheeks turning pink at the thought of him looking at you.

“I’m good, even better now that you're here.” His hand slowly slid closer to yours, his pinky barely touching yours. His lips curled up into a smirk as he watched you blush even harder at the slight touch he gave you.

Whatcha doing tonight?

Hey boy

Set my alarm, turn on my charm

That’s because I’m a good old fashioned lover boy

“I have a question for you, Y/N. Would you wanna go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” he asked, his gaze falling on your figure as he watched your reaction. “Don’t worry, if you wanna go as friends we can, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go together at all if you don’t want to go,” he said nervously after a few minutes of silence.

“Is it a date?” You asked nervously, your hand quickly moving to pick at your nails on the other side. He nodded his head as he watched you.

“Then yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you,” you said quietly, feeling your heartbeat against your ribcage. He smiled and put his hands in his lap before looking at the clock, quickly grabbing his books, and walked to the great hall.

Ooh, feel my heartbeat ( grow faster, faster )

Ooh, can you feel my love heat?

Come on, sit on my hot seat of love and tell me “how do you feel right after all”

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Write my letter, feel much better

And use that fancy patter on the telephone

You sat across from Ginny and Neville as you two started talking about your homework.

“Neville, I don’t understand how you’re amazing at herbology, I’m terrible at it.” You said, your fork barely touching the plate in front of you.

“I’m not amazing at it, I just like the class,” he replied, blushing at the compliment.

“You are amazing at it though. For instance, in our fourth year, I would have never thought of giving Harry that gillyweed.” You heard the owlery hatch open and you looked up confused as you saw your owl with a letter.

You quickly opened it and smiled as you noticed Ron’s handwriting. You folded the letter up and put it in your jacket before looking up at him.

“We’re still on for that date, Ron. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” you smiled as you poked your fork into his arm. He giggled as he looked at you.

“Good, I’d be rather upset if you had already changed your mind.” He smiled and looked at your lips as the same daydreams played in his head. You blushed and went back to talking to Neville and Ginny as you tried to tune him out.

You heard Dumbledore tell everyone that lunch was over and that the teachers were waiting outside to go to Hogsmeade. You stood up and walked outside as you waited for Ron. He saw you and quickly said goodbye to the people around him as he rushed over to you.

When I’m not with you, think of you always

I miss you

When I’m not with you, think of me always

I love you ( love you )

“Hey, Ron. I had gotten worried you chickened out on me.” You teased as you lightly pushed him. He giggled and held your hand as he looked at you.

“I didn’t chicken out, Fred and George kept trying to give me advice.” he turned red at the thought of their conversation as he tried to shake the thought of it out of his head.

“What did they say?” you asked confused, your thumb tracing patterns on the back of his hand as you looked at him. He quickly whispered things into your ear and you turned red.

“I might use the advice later though,” he mumbled, his lips curling into a smirk at the idea of you on your knees. You heard him and turned even more red as you hid your face into the sleeve of his jacket.

“Oh shut it,” you mumbled, embarrassed.

Hey boy, where’d you get it from?

Hey boy, where did you go?

I learned it from the good ol’ fashioned school of lover boys.

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“Which store do you wanna go to first?” He asked as you two walked around Hogsmeade.

“Do you wanna go to Honeydukes first? I heard Fred and George say how they were gonna go to Zonkos and then leave rats inside Honeydukes after, and I don’t want to deal with those rodents.” you looked at him and squeezed his hand.

“Ladies first,” he said and you smiled as he opened the door for you. You quickly headed inside and headed to the back of the store. He walked after you and smiled.

“Do you want to get a chocolate frog? I can’t reach them.” you pointed up to the high shelf and smiled as he reached up and handed it to you.

“Here you go, darling.” he teased, his lips ghosting against yours as he put the piece of candy in the basket you were holding. You blushed and quickly turned around as you put some more candy in the basket.

Dining at the Ritz’s, we’ll meet at 9, precisely

( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 o’clock )

I will pay the bill, you taste the wine

“So where do you want to go now?” you asked as you headed to the cash register, slowly putting everything in the basket on the counter.

“We can go to The Leaky Cauldron and share a butterbeer if you want.” He took out his wallet and paid for the candy, ignoring your confused expression.

“Why did you pay for that?” You took the bag and headed outside, holding Ron’s hand as you walked.

“I’m the one that asked you one the date-” you cut him off. “ I know, but that was also all for me, it doesn’t seem fair.” He cupped her face and looked down at her.

“I don’t care if you think it is fair or not, I asked you out on this date and I will pay for it,” he replied as he looked you in the eyes, blushing as he felt you melt into his hands.

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Driving back in style to my saloon will do quite nicely

Take me back to yours that will be fine

Come on and get it

The two of you headed back to Hogwarts, your fingers intertwined with one another as the sun started to set.

“Thanks for the date, Ron. I enjoyed it.” you looked up at him and smiled as the two of you stood in the common room.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. I enjoyed it too.” he smiled back as he looked down at you, his eyes fully taking in your figure as you stood before him. You felt your heart start beating faster and faster as you two made eye contact, the two of you slowly leaning into one another.

Ooh, love

Ooh, loverboy - whatcha doing tonight?

Hey boy

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his lips ghosting yours as his hand was placed on the side of your cheek.

“Please do.” You begged, your pinks turning even darker as he slowly leaned in, his lips touching yours as the two of you kissed, the world seemed to melt around you.

And for the first time in forever, you felt complete.

Everythings alright, just hold on tight that’s because I’m a good old

( fashioned, fashioned )

Loverboy

a/n: this is literally my second fanfiction, so I hope you enjoyed it hoes

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 2

Oh my Odin!  I can not thank you all enough for the love you gave Reality Check’s first chapter.  Each and every comment has brought a smile to my face.  Thank you so much.  Seriously.  And I can’t wait for you all to see where this goes.  We’re only going up from here on out, so buckle up. 

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be a part of it!): @dpaccione

Missed the first part?  Read it here! 

Running through the eternal palace halls to hide from the God of Mischief seemed like an impossible task.  You had to find a hiding spot soon.  Unfortunately, the halls were open wide.  The golden pillars were large, and wider than three men, so maybe you had a chance behind them.  You could give it a try since you had nothing to lose.  

With the book gripped tightly in your hands you ran behind the pillar, leaning your back against it.  It wouldn’t be much longer until you could hear his footsteps approaching.  As long as you run around the pillar at the right time you should be able to escape him.  

His footsteps came rushing towards you and then stopped suddenly.  You held in a breath, fearful that he could hear even the slightest noise right now.  If there’s one thing you could remember at the palace halls, it’s that a pin dropping could echo through them.  You tried it once.  

You started to look to the left, taking a glance around the pillar.  You didn’t even hear him approaching you from behind.  His hands quickly stole the book from your hands as you jumped, turning around faster than lightning to look at him.  He was smirking at you.  “If you’re going to steal my book, at least don’t get caught walking out the door.” 

“Well maybe I wanted to get caught.  If I hadn’t, perhaps you would never come out of that library.”  You huffed, causing him to laugh.  

“Oh come now, I’ve only been in there for a few days.  It hasn’t been that long at all.” 

“Only a few days?  Loki, you’ve been in there for a week.  There are three hundred thousand books in that library and I guarantee if anyone has read every single one, it’s you.  What are you doing in there?” 

“Reading, isn’t it obvious?” You rolled your eyes at the response.  

“Why are you shutting everyone out and simply reading all day every day?” 

He hesitated before answering you.  You knew him well enough by now, after several decades together being each other’s confidant.  “It’s nothing.” 

“If it were nothing you wouldn’t seem so determined to return to that library as soon as possible.  Is it about the coronation?”

“In a way, yes.” He couldn’t lie about the situation to you.  If anyone deserved to know the truth it would have been you.  “Don’t worry about it, love.  There’s nothing that can be done about it now anyway.”  He said it almost as if he was trying to convince himself that it had no effect either.  

“Do you promise there’s nothing on your mind?” 

“I promise.” 

______

“Are you sure you’re alright, Loki?  I’m worried you’re going to make your fingers bleed at this rate,” You said, watching him practice a song on the guitar for the hundredth time in a row.  

“I’m 100% sure that I will be fine once I’m able to perfect this song.” You raised an eyebrow at his statement as he tried to restart the song again, this time ending up with a broken string.  The canned laughter you heard in the back of your head was (for once) hidden by your own stifled laughter.  Loki glared playfully at you. 

“This is just a talent show, you know.  You don’t have to be incredible.  The fact that you’re willing to do this at all is admirable.” You smiled.  

“If I’m going to do it I may as well be the best one in it, darling.” 

“It’s just a talent show for the children!” You exclaimed, laughing at his ability to make anything a competition.  

“And the children deserve only the best.” 

“Yes, well I doubt the children will care if you mess up a single note.  Your wife, however, will care if you manage to hurt yourself by the end of this.” You walked up to him, slowly taking the guitar out of his hands.  “How about this?  I’ll go down to the store to pick up some new guitar strings for you while you focus on… Anything else.” 

He pretended to contemplate it momentarily while you grew impatient.  “Well considering I can’t exactly play with a missing string I suppose this will have to do.” 

“Alright, Hank Williams, go work on the car or something.  I’ll be back before you know it.” You kissed his cheek and walked out of the house.  You spun around quickly to see Loki smiling softly at you as you closed the door.  Despite the fluttery feeling you had in your chest by his reaction, a sense of dread was quickly replacing it.  

You began to walk across your lawn, taking a glance at the neighborhood.  It seemed slightly different than yesterday.  Newer cars?  New designs for your homes?  You couldn’t tell exactly, but it was just enough for you to wonder.  Maybe you weren’t the most observant person in the world, but you assumed you would be able to take note of someone getting an upgrade on their house.  

As you started making your way down the street and to the store, you spotted Agnes across the street with Wanda.  It looked like the two were politely chit chatting about something before you saw Dottie walking closer to them.  You internally groaned at the idea of having to talk to Dottie.  She always seemed pompous and uptight to you.  You’ve never had to deal with her face-to-face thankfully, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hear about her from neighbors who knew her.  

You decided to walk past them, waving to both Wanda and Agnes.  Agnes smiled brightly towards you and it almost froze you in place.  Agnes out of everyone here frightened you the most.  She was too nice, too neighborly.  It seemed like all she ever did was try to butt in to everyone’s lives.  There was something off about the look in her eyes.  She looked at Wanda with an almost kind of sadness when she said something.  Wanda seemed to be amused by whatever she had said, so why did Agnes seem so disheartened? 

Perhaps it wasn’t your place to ask.  You had to get to the store.  Talking to Wanda and Agnes could wait.  

--

You walked into the store and were greeted by no one.  At least the world was working in your favor for that one, you didn’t have to dodge people left and right just to grab a few things.  

As you walked down the seemingly endless aisles of the store you could find a couple people every once in a while.  They seemed to be stuck though.  They would just stare at a single item as if it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.  It sent chills down your spine as you passed by them, not a single word being spoken.  You don’t even know who these people were.  None of them looked like they wanted to be there. 

Fortunately, there was no one in the music section of the store.  The section had countless musical instruments including guitars, flutes, and drums.  Each one was uniquely designed, with price tags on every single one of them.  When you tried to read them, you couldn’t figure out what they were saying.  The numbers were blurred and blended in with one another.  

Maybe they were removing the tags because there was a sale going on?  You looked around for any indication of that and found nothing.  Maybe water got on to the tags and the ink leaked, but there was no damage or any sign of a leak anywhere around the store.  

That’s when you noticed the bright red guitar pick on a shelf.  It was an electric red, far brighter than anything else in the room.  You walked towards it, confused by the color.  When you picked it up, it slowly lost its color.  The red that seemed to radiate off the pick faded until it was a dull grey.  

“Excuse me, miss-” 

You jumped at the sound of someone’s voice.  You turned towards the man, noticing that he was the one you bumped into only yesterday.  Once again his green eyes were what caught your attention.  He was dressed in a suit, his hair slicked back.  “Oh!  I’m so sorry, you startled me.” You laughed breathlessly.  

He smiled politely.  “No, I apologize.  I didn’t mean to frighten you.  I was just wondering if I could ask you a question or two.” 

“Of course you can!  Although I believe a proper introduction may be needed beforehand, especially after I ran into you.  I’m Y/N,” You held your hand out and smiled. 

“I’m-” He stopped himself for a moment before shaking your hand, “I’m Scott.” 

“A pleasure to meet you Scott!” You smiled.  “It’s nice to know more people around here.  Are you new here?” 

“Well, it seems like it.  I don’t really know if you could call me new to the town though.  I just know that I feel out of place here.  They all seem to cast me out before I can even have a chance to introduce myself,” He chuckled.  

“Yeah, I understand that feeling.  Right now it seems like something’s changing around here.  I can hardly keep up with it!” 

“It’s nice to know I’m not alone then,” He smiled.  

“Agreed.”  A brief moment of silence was shared before you remembered he wanted to ask something.  “So, you said you had a couple questions?” 

“Oh yes, but I would prefer if we talked about it outside.  The walls have ears around here, you know.” He said it with such a serious tone that you were almost afraid to question him.  His eyes held a level of somber that you hadn’t seen in anyone in years.  Whatever he wanted to discuss, it had to be something that you wouldn’t forget.  

“Who’s going to want to listen to our conversations?” You laughed, attempting to lighten the mood a little. 

“You may not want to know.” 

[ayanna-wild]

Love Like A Story

Word Count: 2033

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, pining because that is definitely a warning lol, fluff

A/N: Request from wattpad

Summary: Love was a fairy tale, it didn't exist beyond movies and words on the pages of a book. With your fair share of heartache and break, you'd decided you were better off alone, but Lucifer's determined to show you love wasn't a trope for the story books.

Such a persistent devil.

..................................................................................

You stacked the books from your cart onto shelves lined with even more books. Some new, some old, all with a story or more to tell. This little shop was your own slice of heaven, your refuge from the world outside. You had no need to venture out when any adventure you could ever want was right here, between the pages of all these books. The bell above your shop door chimed faintly, and you called out to whomever it was.

"We're not open yet!"

The sound of footsteps grew nearer and a familiar man poked his head around the shelf you were stacking.

"I'm just here to pick up my order, assuming you have it?"

You smiled faintly, dusting your hands off from the older books that had collected more dust than the ones towards the front of the store.

"Mr. Morningstar, nice to see you again."

Lucifer was a regular in your little shop, always seeking to expand his library and occasionally asking you to find books you weren't sure even existed anymore. You always came through though, and you supposed that was why he kept coming back.

"How many times must I insist you call me Lucifer?"

His voice followed after you as you walked back towards the counter.

"You're my customer, not my friend." You replied, albeit a bit stiffly.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow leaning against the counter as you walked behind it, shuffling through a box.

"Shall I pretend not to be offended?"

You mostly ignored his comment, setting a very large and very old book in front of him. The pages were well-worn and bound in a material you suspected wasn't leather. Lucifer smiled and ran his fingers over the spine before open the book.

Words you couldn't understand were written on the pages, and he seemed even happier upon that discovery.

"You even got it in the original Sanskrit."

You shrugged a bit, although you did feel rather proud of yourself.

"It's what you asked for."

Lucifer pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit and held it out to you. Another reason he was your favorite customer is because he paid handsomely for finding books like this. Honestly he was keeping your shop afloat. You grabbed the envelope but frowned when he didn't let go.

"Mr. Morningstar, you don't get the book until I get my money."

He tsked, still not letting go.

"It's Lucifer my dear, go on try it." He smirked.

You sighed, tapping your fingers on the counter. It was safe to say you were his match when it came to stubbornness. His hand brushed yours when he leaned forward a bit, and you tried to ignore the feeling his skin brushing against yours gave you. You stared him down before he let out a dramatic sigh.

"Very well if you won't say my name at least humor my curiosity for a moment."

You nodded, and he relinquished his hold on the envelope, which you tucked into the cash register.

"Do you ever leave this shop? You always seem to be here, don't you ever go out?"

"Why would I? I have everything I need here."

That answer didn't seem to satisfy him, and he frowned.

"Don't you have friends who miss you? Family? A lover to be with perhaps?"

He noticed the tense of your shoulders, your lips pressed in a thin line, and you pressed the book into his hands, causing him to fumble with it.

"I don't need those things. Have a good day, Mr. Morningstar."

He stared at you surprised by your sudden hostility, and he stood there a moment, holding his book.

"But my dear, surely you don't enjoy being so alone..."

"Goodbye Mr. Morningstar."

You turned away from him, busying yourself with marking the transaction down in your receipt book. Lucifer stood there a moment longer before leaving without another word. You waited until you heard the bell chime before releasing your breath, leaning back against the wall.

You didn't need anyone. It was never worth the heartache that followed after they left, you decided long ago being alone is what you wanted, and he wasn't about to change that.

Not if you could help it.

~

Although Lucifer continued to come as he regularly did, he noticed you grew even more distant than before. Which was saying something because the two of you were never very close to begin with. Not for a lack of trying on his part though, you stopped any advances of friendship he made. Now however, you didn't speak to him at all.

Not beyond a polite greeting, or the total of his purchases. He'd even accept you calling him Mr. Morningstar, as long as it meant you'd at least look at him.

"Are you alright darling? You seem very off lately."

You didn't answer him as you rung up the stacks of books he had sat down. Lucifer frowned when you wordlessly began loading them into a bag.

"Y/N..."

The provoked a small glance from you, he seldom used your name, preferring to call you darling, or dear, occasionally love if he was in an especially chipper mood.

"Good day Mr. Morningstar."

Lucifer frowned when you handed him the bag, his hand brushed yours as he grabbed the bag, and you jerked your hand back as if he had burnt you. He didn't leave though, continued to stare at you until you finally met his eye.

He studied you closely before leaning towards you a bit, with a wall behind you there was nowhere to run. You couldn't seem to force yourself to look away, eyes locked with his.

"Tell me darling... what do you desire most in this world?"

You didn't want to answer, really you didn't, but you found your lips moving before you could stop them.

"I want to be alone, completely and utterly alone."

Lucifer stood up straight, shock and concern written all over his face. You blinked rapidly for a few seconds, breaking whatever spell had fallen over you.

"Why would you desire such a dreary existence?"

You scowled, angry at yourself for saying that out loud, angry at him for asking.

"Everyone always leaves in the end, love is just a fairy tale, a story better left to empty words on a page."

Lucifer's heart ached to hear you say such a sad thing, it left him wondering who'd hurt you so. You didn't give him much of a chance to ask before opening your shop door.

"I have work to do, Mr. Morningstar, please leave."

Your cool tone left no room for argument making it clear you were telling him, not asking. Lucifer conceded, leaving you alone with your darkening thoughts.

~

You closed the shop early that night, locking the door behind you as the sun began to set. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Lucifer standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He put it out once he saw you though.

"Hello love, I was wondering when you'd come out!"

You stared at him confused and a frown tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"Have you been waiting for me out here this whole time?"

"Well yes, I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome back into your shop today, after what happened."

He said it so casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Why?"

"So I could walk you home of course!"

"I can walk myself, Mr. Morningstar."

You shouldered past him, but that phased him very little as he fell into step beside you.

"It's after hours, none of that Mr. Morningstar nonsense, surely it'd be appropriate to call me Lucifer now?"

You slowed to a stop, sighing as you turned to him.

"If I do, will you leave me alone."

"For tonight, yes."

"Then thank you, Lucifer, but I'd really like to walk myself home."

His excitement over you finally saying name canceled out your dismissal of him, and he smiled widely.

"Well then a deal's a deal, I'll see you tomorrow my dear!"

And just like that he was strolling away, you stared after him a moment before shaking your head and going on your way. That didn't stop the ghost of a smile that graced your lips though.

~

True to his word he did come the next day, and the day after that, and every day since. By the end of the month you'd gotten so used to having him around you began to look forward to the lunch breaks you'd take with him, the evenings he'd walk you home, and you'd pretend not to notice he guided you the long way just to talk longer.

It'd become so normal for you that when he abruptly stopped coming one day you grew worried. He'd never been late before, and you'd received no text nor call. Given your past, your thoughts began to darken, perhaps he'd decided to leave you like everyone had.

Really could you blame him?

It had to be you if everyone kept disappearing from your life. You were so lost in your harsh thoughts you didn't even realize you were crying until your eyes began to burn. You wiped the tears away harshly, scolding yourself for being so weak.

"You were fine on your own before, and you'll be fine now." You firmly told yourself, but you had trouble believing your own words.

When had you allowed yourself to start relying on Lucifer?

The bell above the door chimed, and you turned around surprised. Lucifer stood in the doorway, shrugging off his drenched coat to hang it on the hook in the wall. He fixed his hair with one hand holding a bag in the other. He was soaked from head to toe, probably from the downpour outside.

"I'm terribly sorry I'm so late darling, I wasn't expecting the rain and got- Oh."

You had abruptly hugged him, catching him off guard, but he placed a gentle hand to your back nonetheless.

"You'll get wet if you cling to me like that." He said softly.

"I'm sorry..." You spoke, stepping away from him.

"Oh no my dear, it's perfectly alright! I just didn't want you to catch a cold." Lucifer said quickly upon seeing your tears.

You laughed a little, wiping your eyes.

"That's not why I'm crying."

"Then what is it?" He asked carefully.

Seeing Lucifer standing there, drenched from the rain, looking at you so concerned made you suddenly feel very foolish. How could ever assume he'd just abandon you.

"It's silly now that I think about it... but you were late, and I thought... maybe you weren't coming back."

Your voice grew quieter towards the end and Lucifer let out a small sigh.

Not one of annoyance or irritation, but relief, and he walked over to you.

"Does this mean you don't want to be alone anymore?"

You thought for a moment, your insecurities were still there, the small fears, but you were more scared of not having Lucifer by your side anymore.

"I guess I wouldn't mind... if you wanted to stick around."

He smiled proudly and forgetting his earlier concern of you catching a cold, hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head. The bag in his hand crinkled, and you pulled back to look at it curiously.

"Oh that's right! I got you a little gift!"

He held the bag out to you, and you opened it eagerly, your heart skipping a beat when you pulled out the book.

"Lucifer, this is... how did you find this?"

The book you held in your hand was one you'd been desperately searching for, but it was so rare you suspected you'd never find it, let alone afford it.

"I called in a few favors, a little gift to commemorate our time together. It's nothing really, you're always finding rare books for me."

You laughed a little running your fingers along the cover.

"But Lucifer this is..."

You laughed once more, throwing your arms around his neck as you hugged him tightly.

"It's amazing, thank you."

He smiled, hugging you back as he leaned into your touch.

"You're worth it my love."

..................................................................................

Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

[sparkypantaloons]

Only Pieces

Every time he sees Jason he has to remind himself that it’s real. His son, his precious boy, is here and breathing and living. But, alive or not, he still died. And that bit never goes away.

Jason came back, but Bruce still mourns his death.

Love is the whole thing. We are only pieces.

It hits Bruce out of nowhere. Like a rabid wolf materialising out of the warm afternoon air, savaging him in to pieces of the man he once was. Breath, bone and sinew; torn apart and thrown up into the atmosphere. He can’t see, he can’t hear, he can’t speak. Why would he need to? He’s nothing but fragments now. Left to rot down into dust.

“You okay, B?” Tim asks, looking at him concerned.

He pulls his mortarboard hat off Jason’s head, elbows his brother in the ribs.

Bruce blinks. Tries to pull the shards of himself back together. Cobble them into something that resembles human.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, old man.” Jason says, side-eyeing him. He shrugs off the graduation gown as he speaks, throws it over Tim’s head.

Tim huffs, grabbing at the swathes of fabric. His hair sticks up in all directions as the cloth falls into his hands.

Bruce manages a stiff nod. Clears his throat. “We need to leave in five.” He says. The words rise in his throat like glass.

Tim shrugs. “Ready when you are.”Jason doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the older man, eyes narrowed.

Bruce turns. Leaves the library. His vision is blurring, he feels like he might be sick.

Somehow he finds his way to his study. He closes the door more heavily than he intended and it rattles in its frame. The sound is like an assault, all at once too loud and barely audible over the rushing in his ears.

He sits in the chair behind his desk. Gropes for the second drawer down on the right hand side. The whiskey bottle rattles as he yanks the drawer open. Then the liquid rattles down his throat as he drinks straight from the bottle. It doesn’t burn the way it used to, but it still works. Just.

His senses return. Taste first, then smell, the woody flavour of the spirit left lingering in his mouth. Then he can feel the bottle in his hand, round and smooth under his calloused fingers. He watches the liquid settle as he places it down on the desk, the blurring at the edge of his vision disappearing. He can breathe again.

He slumps back in the chair, tilts his head back and takes a deep breath through his nose. A tear escapes the corner of his eye before he can stop it. He wipes it away quickly and takes another deep breath. He can’t do this now.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred is stood in the doorway. His eyes slide from the younger man to the bottle on his desk, and he tilts his head knowingly. “The boys are waiting.” He says gently.

Bruce nods. His eyes are in danger of blurring again. “Jason, he…” He croaks. He screws his eyes shut, takes another steadying breath.

“I know, Master Bruce.” Alfred says kindly. “I saw.”

~

Bruce drives Tim to his graduation ceremony and Dick comes too. Tim makes his brother sit in the back because even if Dick is the oldest, it’s Tim’s graduation. They chatter away on the journey and Bruce makes sure to laugh or interject at the right moments, to frown or make disapproving sounds when he should. But he’s gripping the steering-wheel too tightly and he’s not fool enough to think they haven’t noticed.

When they arrive, they have photos taken of the three of them. Dick and Bruce in dark blue suits, Tim in between them in his academic regalia. They grin brightly but Bruce only just remembers to let go of Tim when it’s over. Remember’s that he can’t hold his children in his arms forever, no matter how much he wants to.

They mingle before the ceremony, meeting some of Tim’s friends and their families. Brucie Wayne comes out, and Bruce manages to lose himself in the performance. He almost convinces himself that he’s okay, is sure that he will have at least convinced the boys. But when he and Dick take their seats in the hall and Tim has left to sit with the rest of his class, Dick reaches down and takes his hand. He squeezes it tightly and says under his breath “You’re okay, Bruce. It’s okay.”

Bruce has to take another deep breath, then makes the command decision that enough is enough. He slips his hand out of Dick’s, takes out his phone and opens an old WhatsApp group. He sends a short message, then mutes the chat before any replies come through.Today is about Tim.

Bruce slips the phone back into his pocket. He can fall apart later.

~

Tim accepts his degree and they have more photos. He throws his mortarboard higher than any of the other graduates, and then he puts the cape on Bruce and the hat on Dick for one last photo, grinning between them and clutching his certificate, one arm wrapped tightly around Bruce’s waist.

Back at the Manor there are more photos and Alfred opens some champagne. Steph and Babs are there, Cass and Damian and Jason too. Together they laugh and hug and clink glasses and order pizza for dinner, because Tim didn’t want Alfred cooking when he should be celebrating with his family.

Bruce lets himself slip under the surface of the noise, the sound of his children, bickering and joking and breathing and growing. The sound of the living. He lets the sheer life of them wash over him, feels the splinters of his heart float to the surface. He can breathe again.

Dick watches him from across the room. Bruce pretends not to notice.

~

It’s a long few hours later when he checks his phone. The old group chat full with unannounced messages.

He slips quietly out of the drawing room. The hallway is cold away from the warmth of his family. He suppresses a chill and makes his way to his study.

Sat at his desk in the quiet and the dark, he feels some of his resolve seep out of him. The Zoom loading wheel spins, then faces begin to populate the screen. There’s Judy in the top right, her horn rimmed glasses sitting atop her thick curly hair. Sal is just beneath her, his French bulldog snoozing in his lap. Top left is Bhavin, Ganesh sat on a shelf behind him, peeking out behind the cloud of white hair. Beneath him, in the bottom left of the screen, is Bruce. Elbows resting on the desk, heels of his hands pressed into his eyes.

“Oh darlin’.” Sal’s southern drawl comes through the speakers. “What happened?”

Bruce can’t speak. His throat has closed up. He’s trying desperately to force his tears back into his eyes, but they slip down under his hands anyway.

"Didn’t your boy graduate today?” Bhavin asks. He’s lived in the US fifty years, but his voice still carries the sound of his native Mumbai.Bruce manages a nod.

“Ah damn.” Judy says softly, pushing a hand to her chest. “That’s hard.”

“It’s been years.” Bruce croaks out. “This shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t what?” Bhavin asks him sharply. “Shouldn’t still mourn your child? What his life could have been?”

Bruce takes a deep breath. He finally looks at the screen. “I just… I know today was about Tim, but all I could see was Jason in the cap and gown, clear as day. And all I could think was how he should have graduated. How he should have grown up and been safe and happy and whole and…” He trails off. Stops himself before the tears threaten to spill again.

“He should have.” Judy says emphatically. “Jason should have had all those things. And so should my Tiana, and Sal’s Michelle and Bhavin’s Darshan.”

“It’s not fair.” Sal adds. “It’s not fucking fair and it’ll never be easy. Because you love your boy and he shouldn’t have been taken so soon.”

“My Darshan died forty years ago.” Bhavin says solemnly. “I still cry. I still wonder what he would be like now, who he would have become. Still rage he is not here with me. It never goes away.”

Bruce nods, and it’s Bhavin’s last sentence that keeps the guilt at bay. Because of course Bruce can’t tell them that Jason isn’t dead anymore. He can’t tell them how Jason dragged his small broken bones out of his own grave and clawed his way back to life. How he’s currently sat not fifty feet away, under Bruce’s own roof, surrounded by family and warmth and love.

And part of it doesn’t feel fair. That his boy came back when their children didn’t. But he’d gladly spend the rest of eternity paying whatever debt it is he owes for that miracle. Every time he sees Jason he has to pinch himself, remind himself that it’s real. His son is alive, his precious boy is here and breathing and living.

But, alive or not, he still died. And that bit never goes away.The grief of it comes out of nowhere. On a Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a board meeting, or out on patrol on a Thursday night. It’ll hit him when he’s eating breakfast, or brushing his teeth, when he’s in the gym, or lying in bed… and the ground will fall out from under him. He’ll plummet into an abyss of grief and despair and rage. His boy, his darling boy. Dead. The life he could have lived, the wonder he could have been. Gone.

Because even if Jason is back, is alive, the dying never goes away.

All the pain and torment that came with it is here to stay, for good. He’ll never be what he could have been and Jason never deserved that.

It’s these three people, these once-strangers, who in some ways helped keep him alive just as much as Tim did, that bring him back from that edge. People who understand just as well as him that feeling of loss. How a taste or a smell can mean nothing one day and have you drowning the next.

Bruce hadn’t bothered to respond when Leslie had suggested he join a support group. She couldn’t possibly understand what it was to lose a child; what value could her advice possibly have? But then the rational part of his mind, what sad, little fragment of it was left, said that a support group could understand. That that was the whole point.

So he’d done it. Apprehensive though he was, he’d shown up on a rainy Wednesday evening all those years ago. At a church hall that wasn’t quite warm enough, serving coffee that was all but cold. Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd’s father. Turns out grief takes the edge off celebrity. Judy and Sal and Bhavin didn’t care who he was, only what he’d been through, only what he’d lost. Being a billionaire didn’t make you immune from loss. Hell, neither did being Batman. Nothing did. They understood that. In a way no-one else in his life did. And all these years later they understood it, still.

“You’re allowed to be sad, Bruce.” Judy says. “A hundred years from now you’re still allowed to be sad. But you have to keep on.”

“Remember Tim did it for him too.” Sal says. “Your boys and Cass are living for Jason too. Just like you are.”

Judy and Bhavin nod in agreement and Bruce finds himself joining in.

“Thank you.” He says. And he means it. “As always.”

“Any time, beta.” Bhavin says. “Any time.”

The screen goes black, and Bruce sits with his thoughts a moment. Already a weight has started to lift and he finds himself glad the night isn’t over yet. That his family is waiting just a short walk away.

Ace pads into the room, rest his head on Bruce’s knee. He scratches the dog behind his ears.

“Err… what are you doing?”

Bruce startles. Dick is stood in the doorway, staring at him with a look of concern.

“Why are you sat in the dark?”

Bruce can’t quite help himself when he says. “I’m Batman.”

Dick rolls his eyes so aggressively they might pop out of his head.

“What are you two doing?” Jason walks in to join them. “Why are you in here in the dark?”

“Why are you in here in the dark?” Dick shoots back.

“I came looking for you.” Jason shoves Dick lightly.

“I came looking for him.” Dick shoves him right back.

Bruce stands and walks towards them. He can't help but smile. “Mission accomplished.” He says. “What fine detectives you both are.”

This time Jason rolls his eyes, but Dick says, “You okay, B?”

Bruce nods, puts his arms around both of their shoulders as they leave the study, and maybe, just maybe, he squeezes Jason a little tighter than normal, relishes the solid aliveness of his second son in his arms. “I’m fine.” He says. “Just fine.”

[lstories]

Felix and Olivia (First Meeting)

I'm auctly making lore for my worlds? Weird. (Thanks for jinxing me, past me. I've been working on this since before I posted the Gaudi and Emma story)

(Safe, Soft, Unwilling then Willing vore)

Word Count: 3646

Olivia woke up to the sound of steel hitting stone. It wasn't unusual but it wasn't a good sound. She jumped out of bed and ran to her wall before she leaned out of her window, like magic her head and upper torso started to freeze in the snowy storm raging outside but her legs were still warm. She saw three men outside climbing the stone wall, each with clothes and masks covering their entire body's and face. "He holds a child hostage!" One of the men shouted, they were in more modern clothing than Olivia was used to so she would have to show her father once they were 'dealt with'. She ran to her bed, jumping onto it and grabbing the perfectly pink plushie on her smaller pillow. They climbed threw the window one by one, the one that shouted that she was being held captive tried to reassure her that she was being saved. Once they got close enough she leaned over and pressed a button on the side of her bedframe. The ceiling started to open as gun no bigger than a soda can was lowered down. After a second, a laser shot out to the forehead to each of the heroes. One pulled out a sword, the second drew his bow, and the last held out his hand as a small ball of fire started to swirl in his palm. "3 INTRUDERS DETECTED. 52% THREAT LEVEL. DETAINING." the robotic voice called out. Olivia covered her eyes, still seeing a flash threw her eye lids and the cracks of her fingers. She heard the mechanical wiring of the gun being brought back into the ceiling and opened her eyes, the three men were still standing there. Olivia started to count down "3... 2... 1..." and all the clothes they were wearing and items the had fell to the ground at the same time, their bodies gone and only their belongings remained.

Olivia slightly chucked at the clattering of the potions and sword. She grabbed the potions and put them on a shelf full of others with different colors and different shaped bottles. She didnt know what they did but they looked cool and the liquid inside constantly swirled which was mesmerizing. Olivia put all the weapons and books in her closet to sort out later. She started folding the clothes, slowly stacking them into a pile and putting all of their hats onto another rack almost full of hats from all over time. She finished folding the clothes, putting the plushie on top and ran out of her room with a grin. She ran down the hallways and corridors of the castle, light being created by an unknown source above her. She eventually slowed down while passing a room, she heard pleading to be released and threats on whoever locked them away. Threw the crack in the door she only saw darkness soon lit by a ball of fire and as it slowly moved and grew lightning cracked around them as the fire was snuffed out. Olivia ran off, her dad didn't want her to talk to people that came from other worlds or times. She ran down some more doors and hallways until she reached her dad's lab. Once she walked in everything changed from a medieval stone castle to a sterial white futuristic laboratory. She was able to slip by the cleaning robot, instead grabbing a small disk she put on her back. She ran into the lab and put the clothes on an empty desk which she also jumped onto and began to play with her plushie while she waited for her dad to finish what he was doing.

Olivia didn't know what her dad was working on immediately but she knew it was usually to help her, her mom, or her brother. Her dad walked out of a side room, a few barrels floating behind him. His eyes settled on Oliva, she looked at the ground as her dad walked over.

"What are you doing, you know your not allowed to come into the workshop."

"We have visitors and they had new stuff and I wanted to see what you were making"

"You could have told me threw the intercom, it reaches threw my entire workspace"

"The guy in the front scares me"

"Well... (sigh) I'll make something else soon. Please leave the clothes with him and go back to bed"

"But I'm not tired, and I want to help"

"You know you can't help. Not yet at least"

He started to guide the barrels to the top of the machine in the center of the room. A green, thin liquid flowed out of the barrel's and into the large vat on top. They could see it filling threw the glass in the middle of the machine.

"I remember this, it makes new life in an instant right, or it's supposed to"

"You... remember? What do you remember seeing it from"

"Oh, umm. I uh, saw it while reading from... your... private... collection.

His face shifted in anger slowly settling on disappointment. He grabbed her plushie and walked over to the control panel, shoving it into the small glass tube. "If words won't stop you from going into my library, maybe action will" he said while pushing a button, sending the plushie into the vat. Olivia ran over to her dad to try and stop him as she started to cry, his frantic button pushing wasn't even trying to experiment on it, just destroy. She tried to form words threw a blur of tears, just wanting her dad to stop. "Mom made that for me" she finally blurted out. Her dad stoped, remembering walking past the room of her mom stitching it together. He hit a release valve, a green steam shot into a containment vault above them. The plushie fell onto the ground, a thin white mist flowing from it. Her dad walked away, the plushie floating to follow him until he threw it into a chemical cleaner. The machine shook for a few seconds before the plushie was released. Olivia immediately ran over and picked it up to check what the damage was. An intricate design of thin green vines covered the pink plushie as if it was re-dyed. She was relieved that it wasn't damaged but she was sad it had changed color's. As she was thinking how she could dye it back to pink, she thought she could feel it move a bit. She looked down to see its front paws trying to climb her shirt like a puppy. She hugged it tighter, trying not to let it move. It made a small squeak as her dad sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry for my outburst, but you know why I can't let you read threw my collection"

"Beacuse if I read the wrong book I could die on the spot, I know. I just want to help you bring mom back"

"I would love if you could help, but what kind of father would I be if I knew the risks and let you take that chance. I want you to live your childhood which is why I'm making you a protector if I can't help you"

"Wait... this isn't to help mom"

"I will never stop trying to bring your mother and your brother back, but I still have to protect you. Please, stay out of my studies, I can't risk you getting hurt. Now, let's get you to bed"

He got up, carrying Olivia in his arm's. They walked out of his lab and her dad took the disk off her back and threw it onto a nearby table. As they walked threw the doors a disinfect mist sprayed out of the walls but hit an invisible bubble around them. Her dad walked threw the castle slowly so he wouldn't disrupt her. Olivia almost fell asleep, barely staying awake from the tiny movement of her plushie. They passed by the dark room, a red light started to grow as her dad walked closer, she heard screaming from the three people in the room and the door slammed shut just as he walked neer the red light shinning from the crack. She looked back just as her dad was walking away, she saw the red light die down threw the windows on the top as the screaming stopped. Olivia slipped in and out of sleep, her dad lulling and rocking her to sleep and the small plush keeping her just barely awake. As they walked threw the castle her dad was regal in his movements, though no one else lived in this castle to see it. They walked down the hallway to her room, the pictures on the walls shifted and seemed more picturesque than usual and the light that illuminated the halls started to dim.

The doors to her room opened as her dad walked down the hall, the light that illuminated it was completely gone by this point. He placed Olivia on her bed and tucked her in, the weather outside changed to a light rain and the tapping of the raindrops on her windowless windows finally rocked her to sleep, she didn't even hear her dad close the door.

After a few minutes Olivia woke up to the sound of squeaking and the feeling of her shirt being pulled. She looked down to see her plushie biting at the collar of her pj's, squeaking as it tried to stand but feel down. She picked up the plushie, holding it in her arms as it tried to bite at her sleeves. "It's never eaten before, it has to be hungry." She thought. "I've never needed to give you a name before... how about Felix." She said while grabbing the biggest pillow on her bed. It looked up at her for a few seconds when she said that before going back to gnawing on her sleeve. The biggest pillow she had was almost 6 feet long that she would sometimes hide in. She put Felix on the pillow while looking for something to feed him, he started to gnaw at the soft fabric before collapsing onto it. The pink fabric of his body started to break apart and the green fabric started to stretch over the pillow. As the green fabric touched the pillow the surrounding fabric formed into a fluffier pink fabric. Certain parts of the pillow started to constrict into limbs and in a matter of seconds her plushie had taken over her pillow. Felix started to move slightly, the fabric on his face shifted and his eyelids opened. His eyes were pure black as Olivia had seen before but there was small blue speckles she'd never noticed. His mouth showed a row of translucent rainbow teeth. He sat up, rubbing his head before looking over at Olivia, a confused expression showed over his face. She pushed the button oh her bed and stumbled over to Felix, picking him up and throwing him onto the floor. He may have been two feet taller than her but he was still the weight of a pillow. His face was stained with confusion and shifted to fear as the small gun lowered from the top of the room and shot out a thin laser that settled on his forehead. He looked around the room for somewhere to hide, eventually settling on the curtains and running over to hide behind them. They automatically closed to an impossibly thin line and he ran to the closest, then over to the hat rack, each hiding space stoped being usable as he got to them. Olivia was confused to what he was doing, it wasn't like any intruder that had come neer the castle or any of her dads monster she had found lurking outside whatever room he was in. She let out a small giggle, it was funny seeing him run around the room but she stopped when she heard the AI's voice.

"1 OCCUPANT DETECTED. -82% THREAT LEVEL. NO DETAINMENT NEEDED" the voice said before the gun retracted into the ceiling. The gun has never not gone off, even the most minor threat would be sent away. If he wasn't a threat then maybe he was a friend. Olivia sat on her bed staring at Felix while he tried to process what had happened. He knew the gun was dangerous but he didn't know why, he unfolded himself from the ball that he scrunched into and stood up while checking his surroundings. He questioned what he was doing out loud, surprised that he could talk when he did, he didn't sound any older than Olivia. She got a better look at him while he was mostly still, he was just a bigger version of the plush he was, though a few features were bigger. He looked over to Olivia, neither of them knew what to do. They sat in silence, studying each other and thinking of what to say. Both of them spoke at the same time and both apologizing as they interrupted each other, Felix lightly laughed to himself about it. "Who are you" Olivia asked as she scooted closer to the edge of the bed. "Oh, I'm Felix. That's what you called me before I-" Felix said as he tried to sit on the floor, he put his hand on the ground as his wrist and forearm sunk into each other and he fell onto the ground. He hit the side of his head, it sunk halfway into itself and lightly bounced back up. He took a second to figure out what happened as Olivia giggled at it. Felix sat up, pushing his arm into the floor and letting it crumble into itself. "Before I became this. Whatever this is?" Felix said as he looked over his body.

"Were you something else before my dad made you?" Olivia said scooting closer while her knees were dangling off the side of her bed.

"I dont think so. I remember wakeing up but I dont remember going to sleep, auctly I dont remember anything before walking up" Felix said while pushing his fingers into the ground, watching as they buckled and bent with a lack of joints then letting them extend and bend them like they did.

"So why are you he-" Olivia scooted too close to the edge of the bed and fell. She braced herself for the impending thud, but it never came. She opend her eyes the see the pink and green fabric under her.

Felix instinctively jumped under her. "I think I'm here to protect you" Felix tried to say with his face still pressed into the ground.

"Is that all, or do you also want to play"

"play what?"

"My dad talked about this old game he used to play when he was a kid called hide and seek. I'll count down from 30 and you go hide"

"oh, ok" Felix found a place to hide pretty quickly. Olivia was surprisingly ok with what was happening.

They played for a while, Felix never found any good hiding spots while the room seemed to help Olivia. Felix only found her when she started laughing. He didn't see the humor in it or why he did what she said but he was starting to have fun, and he was also getting hungry. Olivia was hiding in a new closet that opend up in front of her. The door looked like it was made out of the same stone as the wall which is why she probably hadn't noticed it before. Her eyes were getting heavy as she sat in the darkness. Her mind started to drift as she heard the rain taping on the windows outside. She could barely keep her head up for more than a second at this point. She heard the light shuffling of Felix looking for her while she finally fell asleep. After a while she woke up to Felix yelling her name, he sounded horrified. Olivia opened the wall door and rubbed her eyes. "Felix?" He looked over, he couldn't cry but he deffenetly would be. He ran over and hugged Oliva, pressing her into his body.

"Dont scare me like that, I thought you died. I need to protect you and you need to stay in my... line..." he trailed off and kept mumbling as Olivia talked

"In your line of sight? You sound like one of my dad's robots, I thought you were going to be fun to be around" she started to get sad as she tried to get away from Felix, she was just going to go to bed and be silently upset with her dad in the morning. "Hey, let go of me"

Felix stared at her, the blue specks defused into his eyes. "My- my li... my line of..." he couldn't keep a single thought strait besides his want for food. He needed food.

Felix slightly opend his mouth, his yellowish tounge gently licked across her face. She was the best and only thing he's ever tasted, he wanted more. He gently placed her whole head into his mouth, slowly licking at her face. Olivia was thrashing around just trying to get away from the thing that was currently eating her. Her movements started to slow as she felt what was happening, his tongue was super soft and weirdly warm. Her movements almost came to a stop, it was so soft and comfy. Felix worked her shoulders into her maw as he pushed her head into his throat. Olivia started to flail again, she was still being eaten, she couldn't just stop struggling. Felix worked her further and further down and she would occasionally stop and let the warmth and fluffiness surround her. Soon her head reached his stomach and small grey tendrils slightly rubbed at her face. She would have thought they would tickle but they pressed down almost like a massage. As more of her body found it's way into Felix's stomach, she could feel herself drifting off to sleep from the feeling, the gentle sound of his heartbeat and the muffled sound of the rain helping.

Felix finished swallowing her legs, he leaned against the wall to his side as the rest of her entered his stomach. Olivia studied the stomach walls a bit closer, she could see through them. She could see the light being broken by thin strands of various fabrics. It wasn't much thicker than a few dryer sheets, if she wanted she could tear her way out. A small strand of fabric moved through her line of sight and she looked back to her clothes. The grey stands were slowly tearing her pajamas to shreds and the cotton strands were being moved to find a place along Felix's stomach like they were always there. She held a hand to one of the grey tendrils, it gently pressed at her hand like it was waiting for something. She pressed back at the stomach walls, a muffed rumbling grew above her. He was purring, Olivia would've never guessed that he could purr but he was. She had to stifle a yawn, this wasn't so bad. Felix rubbed back at the light pressure in his stomach. He could feel every strand that was on the verge of snapping. He had done it, he ate the only thing he was made to protect... he ate...... oh no.

"Olivia, are you ok in there? I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just got so hungry and I needed to eat and you were just-"

"Felix, please be quiet. I'm trying to sleep"

"WH- your in my stomach! How are you so calm!"

"Your warm, comfy, and your stomach gives a really good massage. Also, your not hurting me, its probably safer in here"

"But a stomach isn't safe. Your-"

"Can we just go to sleep. If you want you can sleep on my bed"

"I..." Felix looked over to the bed, he was deffenetly getting tired. He slowly stood up, having to carry his huge stomach until he collapsed onto the bed. Olivia kneaded into the stomach walls causing Felix to purr up a storm. He had to admit, everything about this felt amazing. The gentle pushes, prods, and rubs from inside his stomach along with the feeling of being overly full while protecting Olivia was heavenly to him. The gentle patter of rain, Felix's soft heartbeat and purring, and the massage his stomach gave started to lull her back to sleep. "Goodnight Felix" "Oh, goodnight Olivia" It didn't take long for them to both drift off to sleep.

:timeskip to morning:

"Goodmorning Olivia. I'd like to apologize for last night, and if you'd like you could help with-" Olivia's dad walked into her room. His eyes settled on the plush monster with an enormous stomach lying on her bed. Felix groggily opend his eyes as he moved to see around his stomach. His eyes widened as he saw Olivia's dad in the room. "Oh no- give me a minute and I can explain" Felix struggled to get up and Olivia started to wake from the movement. Felix was lifted by his arms and legs by an invisible force. "What... Did you do... with my daughter" Olivia's dad yelled as he started to tear Felix's arms and legs. Olivia fully woke to the sound of tearing fabric and her dad yelling. She tried to stand up and her hand sunk back into the fluffy fabric. She started to remember what happened last night and pieced two and two together. "Dad, stop hurting Felix" It took a while to sort out what happend and why she was inside what was previously her plushie. After a bit of explaining and pleading Olivia convinced her dad to let Felix stay.

[strangerobin]

Rue: Chapter 9 (Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

Note: I'm literally in tears right now. I have 7000+ words over 13 pages on my word processor just for this chapter.

Night after night, summer and winter, the torment of storms, the arrow-like stillness of fine weather, held their court without interference.’

The swaying wheat and barley waved in the warm breeze; the burning sun burned like the beacon it was. The entire world was brown and golden. It was hot, it was suffocating. It was terrible.

“The land is barren.” Adeline muttered, her body rocking to and fro with the movement of the wagon, her eyes were trained into the far distance, squinting in the broiling sun.

“You’re being over dramatic.” Henriette’s tone was dry, her hands on the reins, spurring the horses to continue its trot.

“I hate it here already.” Adeline announced, crossing her arms in a huff. “Why couldn’t we have gone somewhere else? Somewhere with more greenery than this? There’s still plenty of places to hide in Louisiana-”

“Staying in the same place over and over will attract attention and you know it.” Henriette was losing her patience too, turning her head sharply to glare at her sister. “Your father will find us if we keep staying in the same place.” The lines on her face and around her eyes deepening, the ever growing frown settling over her wrinkled forehead.

“…We left Ralph in Orleans. All alone.” Adeline bowed her head in grief, hiding her face behind her hair and avoiding those piercing eyes of her sisters. “Six feet under and his body wasn’t even cold when we left.”

Her sister sighed again, though this time it betrayed a tenderness and affection that she only displayed towards her loved ones, freeing one hand to gently comb back Adeline’s soft tresses.

“Silly girl. How many times do I have to tell you? Ralph hasn’t gone anywhere, he’s always with you and me. Always.”

“He’s dead, that’s what he is.”

Henriette continued rubbing her shoulder’s soothingly, as if she were comforting a child. “But he’ll always be in our hearts, and that’s what matters.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Come Addie, let’s not fight.” The older woman smiled lightly, turning the younger girl’s head towards her for closer inspection. There were bags under her eyes and an unnatural pallor, a sullenness swirling behind. Even her usual bright eyes were dulled. “I hate it when you’re angry or sad.”

The younger girl shook her head and curled around the older ones side, much like a feline would.

“I still hate it here. Everything’s so dry and barren and ugly. I’m only putting up with it because of you.”

“What will you do when I’m gone?” Henriette sighed.

“Then I’ll just have to die and pursue you."

“Silly girl.” The elder smiled at the other indulgently, yet her eyes betrayed a melancholy she failed to hide. “You don’t mean that.”

He saw them long before they arrived.

Initially a speck in the distance, and then gradually enlarging until he could see their wagon gradually pulling into town along the dusty highway.

In truth, Jasper had noticed the old lady at the front first; her face hard and etched into a permanent frown, doing nothing to dispel the presence of her wrinkles and only succeeding in making more pronounced than ever. He would have turned away back to his field then had he not caught sight of her in the setting sun, the last of the sun rays reflecting a pale face.

She had a simple shawl wrapped around her head, protecting her from the dust. But it did nothing to hide the beauty she possessed, there was an ethereal feel to it; a otherworldliness. There was also a melancholy to the girl; with her head bowed, eyes downcast, looking so dejected. It captured his attention, struck a chord in his heart, and later he would stop to think about her, in his work, during mealtime, before he went to bed, in his walk.

His eyes followed their receding figure unconsciously as they made their way into town.

He did not know her name yet.

But she had unknowingly sent a ripple in the pool of his heart

Except he did not know of any of this yet.

It was another sleepless night.

Adeline clutched at the tattered copy of To The Lighthouse she had found fallen behind the shelf in the library and staggered downstairs.

Sleep had evaded her yet again. When was the last time she had had a good night’s rest? Or perhaps it was herself who was avoiding it altogether. Whichever it was, she barely slept a wink in the past week. she could almost feel the rush of agitation in her nerves now, the lethargy in her frame, the shortness of her temper.

She needed to get out.

This was a paradise for vampires she supposed. A secretive hideout for the Cullens, no one bothered them here. The town was too enamoured by the dazzling family, the town’s police chief was Bella’s dad and the only visitors they ever had were the wolves from the nearby indigenous tribe. And anyways there was ever only one person who came most of the time.

But it still unnerved her. The jitteriness she experienced in Colorado never fully left her. And she was still startled by the smallest things, the tiniest sounds.

It was the house. She finally concluded. It was Jasper.

She couldn’t rest with Jasper around. No she couldn’t.

Pocketing the few cigarettes she still had remaining into her worn satchel, Adeline grabbed the giant coffee flask she had prepared and stalked out of the house into the dreary morning of Forks in only a thin parka and boots.

As she stalked down the clearing at the back of the house, she felt a shiver down her spine and a feeling of being watched. Turning back she just made out a silhouette at the upper left window.

She didn’t need to squint to know who it was.

She flipped the bird at him before turning around to leave in a huff.

Jasper saw her multiple times in town over the next few days. The two had settled down into one of the cottages his parents had owned bordering their own farming fields; he had yet to formally acquaint with his new neighbours. But it would seem that the arrival of the girl had already sent the town into frenzy.

For one, her dress making skill was excellent. Her embroidery so fine and so meticulous that all the ladies of the town were soon sending in requests, until she had to put them on hold until she could finish the earlier ones first.

Two, she was soon the gossip of the entire town. She’d already had seven proposals in the course of a week, all of which she had rejected without even a side eye. Men were in awe of her beauty and wondered aloud at her ever downcast eyes and the enigma that she was. For the women in town though, she was the subject they loved to hate, for monopolising the attention of the other half of the town. Jealously was an ugly sentiment and hostility an ever isolating one. And the girl soon found herself alone and alienated without a single soul to call as friend.

Soon they had a third topic to discuss on.

She was seen trying to storm the local bookshop for new reading materials, but on seeing her, the store owner had kindly redirected her back to her ladies’ weekly digest.

“You don’t make any sense! Why am I not allowed to read?! It’s only a novel!"

“Child, novels are hardly a suitable reading material for a lady. It promotes unrealistic fancies in young minds like yours.”

“That’s a condescending observation sir.”

“Who do you say you live with again?”

“My grandmama.”

“Well young lady, I suggest you have a word with you grandmother then.”

“Wait!”

The man slammed his door in her face.

And no matter how hard she pounced on the wooden door, the shopkeeper refused to open the door again to the girl.

“Darling, sweetheart.” A pair of well-meaning elderly ladies stopped in their tracks to regard the girl. “Don’t be mad at the man, he’s only trying to do you good. What kind of gentleman of good status would want a woman with her head stuck in a book? It’ll only spur you on into fantasies after fantasies; no man would want a wife who would neglect the family. What would you possibly do then?”

Her lips pursed now and Jasper could see how upset she was with the way her shoulders were hunched and her teeth biting into her lips so hard it drew blood but somehow her eyes shone with a fierce defiance he had never seen.

“A man who loves me would not ask me to give up any of that.”

She let slipped this one sentence before turning to leave with her head held high.

“What a peculiar young girl.” The lady turned to her equally surprised friend and wondered aloud.

The crowd dispersed to return to their day and errands.

Only Jasper was rooted where he was, his mind replaying the conversation the girl and the lady had, the silent dignity, the crackling flame inside her.

He looked to the bookshop again.

Adeline always thought that their relationship now was like a predator to its prey; Jasper always on the outlook, ready to pounce anytime she showed the slightest weakness. But when she did look closely, it wasn’t difficult to find him shuffling awkwardly in the corner when they were in the same room, looking at her with unveiled longing and then the predator would turn into a wounded puppy.

Adeline wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. That he should feel hurt and yet still longed for her, instead of choosing to hate her for all she had done. It was beyond her comprehension. If their fortunes had reversed, she couldn’t say for certain if she would feel the same.

She wondered if he ever thought of the past, their past together. Because she was convinced that he viewed it through a rose tinted lens

Adeline lighted a cigarette and puffed thoughtfully. What she had read at the break of dawn still fresh on her mind.

“There it was before her - life. Life: she thought but she did not finish her thought. She took a look at life, for she had a clear sense of it there, something real, something private, which she shared neither with her children nor with her husband. A sort of transaction went on between them, in which she was on one side, and life was on another, and she was always trying to get the better of it, as it was of her; and sometimes they parleyed (when she sat alone); there were, she remembered, great reconciliation scenes; but for the most part, oddly enough, she must admit that she felt this thing that she called life terrible, hostile, and quick to pounce on you if you gave it a chance.”

She must admit, Woolf’s writings always did have a knack of making one feel and think differently; to approach life, time and memory in a new light; to reflect. The lighthouse, was the never changing vantage point in the passage of time, the ever eluding desire that one chased after but never could quite grasp; ten years was a very long time in a life span, people change, for better or for worse; people die, and all was left was a memory frozen in time. And even that fades, lost in time and space. Nothing was everlasting, no mark or testimony survives the void.

Not even love.

The brutality of life and reality had made sure that it did not.

She briefly considered her own life.

The innocent child Henriette had protected at all cost when she was alive, who was immediately killed by her father after Hettie’s death, gutted and left to her own demise in some dirty gutter. And in her place, all that was left was this new emotionally dead and drained Adeline. Haunted by her own past, her deeds and her misfortunes, completely broken and never quite pieced back together right.

Adeline had taken the gamble with life and lost miserably.

The fog was getting thicker now, the wind lost somewhere in the thicket. The spring air was stagnant, and the soft tendrils of smoke curled around her hair, her frame. For a moment, she stopped in her tracks, just to take in this present moment that would soon morph into another forgotten memory of hers.

He found her at the far end of his parents’ field, looking out into distance, sniffing.

“Hey are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She sniffed again no doubt surprised that someone had crept on her, scrubbing at her face furiously. “Never better.” Before turning around to scrutinise him.

“Who are you?”

“I don’t think we’ve formally met ma’am, I’m Jasper Whitlock.”

“You’re Mr and Mrs Whitlock’s second son.” The girl gasped, before ducking her head formally and shaking his hand. “I’m Adeline, Adeline Ruelle. Your mother’s told me about you.” She looked around again before smiling awkwardly and gesturing to the fields. “I’m trespassing. This is your land. I’ll go-”

“No, no. It’s uh… it’s alright. I don’t mind, Miss Ruelle.”

“But still. I shouldn’t be disturbing the lot of you.”

“Wait. Uh I… I couldn’t help but saw what happened in the town square.”

“Oh.” She frowned before looking down, clearly getting the wrong idea. He wasn’t there to reprimand her too. “It’s alright, I won’t-”

“No wait, I don’t mean it that way. Here.” He quickly thrusted the bundle he had been hiding behind his back this whole time.

Confused, Adeline clutched at the bundle, feeling the hard texture of the package before looking up to stare at him agape. Her hand quickly dove in to tear at the wrapping paper to reveal a hardback book.

“Frankenstein?” She held the book up questioningly. “Why are you giving me this?”

“You wanted this right? Or was it not this? I could take it back and change it if you want-”

“No, no. This was what I was looking for. But why are you giving me this?”

“Because you wanted it.” He stated as a matter of fact. When his answer didn’t dispel the confused look on Adeline’s face, Jasper struggled to explain himself more. “I don’t think they were right in refusing to let you read just because they think it’s not suitable for a lady. Anyone should be allowed to pursue their own knowledge…”

“This isn’t really the most educating thing you know.” For the first time, there was a playful smirk on her lips. “It’s a novel on a man making a monster.”

“You know what I mean.”

Evidently she was grateful. “I- how can I ever thank you for this? How much does this cost? I’ll pay you back the money… I’ll pay you double for all your trouble-”

“No, no it’s fine. Please don’t pay me. I wanted to help. You looked so sad and I just wanted to cheer you up is all.”

“Wait, where are you going, Mr Whitlock sir?! Wait.”

In his mind he had embarrassed himself. It was a stupid move buying her the book. Now she would think him worse than all her other suitors. He had intruded into her privacy and had condescended her by deciding that she would want the book. He had never lost his cool once before, not in front of the girls who had flirted with him, and this new girl had come along and thrown him off his balance.

He didn’t realise till then that his heart was beating erratically and his hand clenched over it unconsciously.

What a stupid stupid man that he was.

“Adeline.”

She was momentarily shocked from her thoughts. Looking up, she found that she had come across the Cullens. There was Alice with the little family.

Alice looked concerned, no doubt surprised by her haggard look and her sleep deprived countenance. Even Bella and Edward looked alerted too. Despite being eccentric, Alice was, Adeline concluded, actually quite a nice person, overly friendly maybe.

“You look tired, are you alright?”

“I’m alright.” She shrugged nonchalantly. Even though the exhaustion was catching up on her fast.

Alice hesitated before smiling. “We’re going to hunt. Do you want to join us?”

Ah, so they were going to hunt. She remembered her surprise when for the first time she had heard that they were vegetarians and that they only fed on animals. Henriette had half forced half bullied her to adopt this kind of diet since she was born, yet she had never seen another doing the same before.

But she didn’t like to hunt in the presence of another, it made her self conscious. And anyways, she was trying her best to steer away from the company of the family.

“It’s alright.” She remained aloof. “I’ll hunt on my way.”

“Will we expect you by dinnertime?” Bella spoke up at the back, Adeline could literally see the trying in her effort to be nice. She quickly looked to Edward who’s face remained neutral.

“Hmph. I’ll be back.” She nodded her head at the latter.

Their paths diverging, the rest of the clan soon took their leave of her. And Adeline looked on at their receding back from her spot.

They would all soon be a distant memory of hers, there was no need to be formally acquainted with any of them.

‘With her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta's arm and left the room, it changed, it shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past.’

This time she was waiting for him.

The moment she caught sight of him strolling towards the perimeter of his fields after supper, Adeline immediately jogged towards him, a large basket in tow.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Mr Whitlock.” She chirped, an unusually bright smile graced over her porcelain features, a stark contrast to the melancholy he saw on her first day in town.

He decided that he loved seeing her smile more than anything right then.

“Jasper is fine ma’am.” He ducked his head bashfully. “Mr Whitlock’s my dad if you will, everyone around here just calls me Jasper, Miss Ruelle.”

“Fine. But then you must call me Adeline. It’s only fair.”

“Miss Adeline.” He bowed half out of jest.

“Adeline.” She corrected him, though there was a twinkle in her eyes. “So where’re you headed to?”

“I’m just heading to the creek down below to rest for a bit, it’s been a long day.”

Adeline nodded in understanding and he was somewhat amused to find the girl trotting behind him. Chuckling, Jasper swooped in to take a grasp at the handle of the basket and carried it. When they finally settled at a shady spot near the creek, Adeline leaned forward to open the latch of the basket.

“I wanted to thank you,” she began, pulling out a batch of baked cookies. “For the book.”

“Its nothing-”

“No! It wasn’t just anything! I…” He watched as she frowned and look away, debilitating with herself, trying to find the right words to express herself.

“No one’s ever done this for me… ever.” She finally murmured, her hands playing at her aprons absentmindedly. “So… yeah.” She pulled at her ear sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re not interested in my ramblings. I should go… it’s your rest time.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

They sat in mutual silence, though there was less initial awkwardness.

“Do you-”

“So I-”

They started at the same time. Sheepish, Jasper gestured for Adeline to continue speaking. She smiled another of her easy smile.

“What I wanted to say was that you really don’t know how much it means for me… for you to get that book for me. My grandfather taught me how to read and write. And between the both of us, this was our most favourite book of all time. But his copy was destroyed in the floods some years ago so when he died… I wanted something to remember him by. That’s why I desperately wanted it at the bookshop.” She grew sentimental then. “Of course it’s not the same copy we used to have, but it’s the sentiment of it that’s the most important.”

“Then I’m glad I got it for you.” And he meant it from the bottom of his heart.

“Here.” She handed him a cookie, “you still haven’t tried it yet.”

Tentatively, he took a bite out of it. “It’s delicious!"

Adeline grinned, evidently proud. “Of course. And they said no decent southern gentleman would want me. You’ve just proven them wrong!”

Jasper laughed. “Well you’ve certainly stolen my stomach away with that amazing bakery.”

Adeline reclined onto her elbows in her spot and squinted in the dazzling sun. “You know it’s not half as bad here as I initially thought.”

“Must be because of my company.” He spoke jokingly.

“Hmm. Maybe." Jasper found himself observing Adeline’s every move. Now she was closing her eyes, basking in the glory of the setting sun, humming to herself. The warm ray of light accentuating her long neck and her collarbones and-

She turned suddenly, her excited eyes on him.

“Have you ever read Frankenstein?”

She knew she was getting closer and closer towards the sea, despite the fog being thick and hanging over the threshold. She just knew.

There was the faint crashing of waves now, getting louder by the minute. And the brambles of the forest floor was spreading out.

Now all she needed to do was-

And she stepped out into the sunlight. Despite the sun, it was not the Texan sun she remembered from her memories, it barely gave her warmth. But it did dispel some of the mist that clung around her like tendrils. Here was a cliff of some sort, with the sea roaring right below her feet, the moss and the wildflowers carpeting the entire forest ground until it ended abruptly at the ledge, to a steep drop of some fifty or even sixty feet.

It was indeed beautiful.

Adeline watched mesmerised, how the waves licked the cliff side, thundering, throwing up white foam and algae and whatnots.

Sighing, she leaned back against a tree trunk. The sky was grey and endless in the horizon. It was dreary, and she felt that it suited her more than the Texan sun and blue sky ever did.

She readjusted her sitting position against the tree and took out her book.

James and Cam and Mr Ramsey were heading to the lighthouse now and Lily Briscoe was finishing off her painting ten years later.

‘“It will rain,” he remembered his father saying. “You won’t be able to go to the Lighthouse.”

The Lighthouse was then a silvery, misty-looking tower with a yellow eye, that opened suddenly, and softly in the evening. Now—

James looked at the Lighthouse. He could see the white-washed rocks; the tower, stark and straight; he could see that it was barred with black and white; he could see windows in it; he could even see washing spread on the rocks to dry. So that was the Lighthouse, was it?

No, the other was also the Lighthouse. For nothing was simply one thing. The other Lighthouse was true too. It was sometimes hardly to be seen across the bay. In the evening one looked up and saw the eye opening and shutting and the light seemed to reach them in that airy sunny garden where they sat.’

She closed the book with a sigh.

To be fair, she knew that Jasper thought about their past, just as she did. Except, they each remembered things and events differently. Or maybe it was just that for her, with the knowledge of hindsight, everything was brought into a new light and became tainted.

Could she look back with pure joy now? At her days with him which was now, in hindsight, filled with regret and more importantly, guilt.

There was some truth in it she supposed.

Perhaps there were more facets in their memory than she would give credit for. There was the truth, and then there were all the different angles you could appraise it from. Both were looking at the lighthouse, but he no doubt looked on with fondness and through a rose tinted lens, and she with hindsight could only look on with a sense of dread.

She only wished that he would not be so enamoured by his sentiments that he was blindsided by the truth.

With that thought, her mood soured again and she threw the book into the ground. Subconsciously, her hand went to the locket hidden beneath her shirt where she fingered the engravings to calm herself.

Adeline closed her eyes and listened to the sea.

After that fateful afternoon, Adeline was showing up at the fields every few days. And the creek immediately became their mutual meeting point. And on days when she was too busy with her work to venture out, Jasper would swing by, just to see her, have a chat. They lived close enough, and he was always giving excuses after excuses about why he was there. Excuses he thought she saw through with that complicit smile and the twinkle always present in her eyes. Her grandmother was less impressed however, but she never treated him ill, always being ever cordial, receiving him, making tea, working in the corner, muttering to herself in French.

The days blurred into one, and towards the end of that summer, his parents invited the Adeline and her grandmother over for dinner one fine evening. His mother took an immediate liking towards the girl, and his father called her the daughter he always wanted.

It made Jasper feel giddy, that his family loved her so much. He was almost proud.

It would be the best summer he ever had.

They had read Milton, the Odysseus, the Aeneid, Austen, Dickens, and many more.

He was always surprised to see Adeline brimming with so much knowledge at such a young age. He had wondered at the background of her grandfather, but she always deflected the questions with a wistful smile then he learnt not to ask them anymore.

It was perhaps cliche to say, but she really was not like other girls. Adeline was open, she was kind and sincere and more importantly she was the sun herself, a burning beacon, radiating with warmth. One look at her and he found the day’s worth of handwork and fatigue to be nothing.

Jasper knew the implication of his thundering heart. Romance was not something new to him, he’d heard it from fieldworkers, men who were only a few years older than him.

But he had his doubts too.

He saw how the men tried to talk to her, and though she never mentioned it once to him, he heard enough to know about all the confessions and declarations and proposals she received on a regular basis. Her refusals did nothing to quell his disheartened heart. Her suitors ranged from various backgrounds including pretty boys with wealthy backgrounds and ancestors who were founding members of this town even.

What was he? Nothing but a simple farmer boy. How was he to compete with then?

Every time he heard of another refusal, his hope would get a little higher, that perhaps her smiles and her openness were only directed at him. Yet one look at himself and his meagre possessions, and he would lose what little confidence he had.

Even so, even so she never missed a day with him. Never forgot an engagement, never failed to show up.

That she would welcome him warmly each time, with her radiant smile and her gentle words, even if she would ramble on and on about her long and tiring day and her tedious work.

He was failing miserably to quell his beating heart. Some days It was pure agony, other days he would find himself hope against all hope that perhaps, just perhaps that she would reciprocate even a fraction of his feelings.

But his doubts held him back each time, when he was on the brink of a confession. He would be reminded of the string of failed proposals that came before his and he would become afraid and stopped himself short.

Was it better to protect this friendship, this comradeship that they had?

But with each passing summer day, as he got ready for harvest, his heart was becoming more and more heavy.

It was too much.

He didn’t think he could go on like this.

The ravens cawed and she awoke with a start. Standing up immediately, she was dazed to find that she was not in her simple attire of boots and parka anymore. Gone was the sea and the grey horizon; the pines surrounding her were tall and ominous, a light mist was beginning to form around her, obscuring her sight further on. She was in her Sunday best again, the cream coloured dress with those understated embroideries she had seen herself. There was the chain of daisies at the hem of her sleeves and around her collar. She looked around, trying to comprehend her surrounding.

So she was in a dream then.

A nightmare perhaps.

Might as well walk to the very end of it so that she could wake. Though she loathed to think how it would end, hopefully not with her screaming bloody murder again.

Trudging onwards, the claustrophobia was getting more and more intense, the fog thickening and the trees crowding more and more together until there was no distinguishable path that she could follow. She felt suffocated.

Just then, there was a chill around her heart and it began to thump fiercely. Turning her head cautiously towards her back, she was instantly struck by an intense fear.

Run, her instinct was screaming in her ears.

She ran like the frightened bunny that she was. She could hear the laughters of her sisters, and worse of all. The shoutings of her father.

There seemed to be no end. The brambles tore at her dress, tearing the embroideries, the mud splattering all over her apron, the loose branches leaving small open cuts over her hands and face. The laughters behind her never ceased. She was bone chilled and yet she daren’t stop in her tracks. For fear of being caught, for fear of a punishment worse than death.

And just when all hope was lost, there in the distance was an opening!

And out she ran into a field of wheat and barley. Shocked, she looked back cautiously at the edge of the forest she had just dashed through.

The eeriness had gone and it was only just a stretch of low woodland and shrubberies. Her nightmarish forest was gone.

Cocking her head to the side in confusion, Adeline nevertheless continued to trudge on and at the end of the wheat field, a warm inviting cottage stood in its midst.

The smoke gently curled around the chimney, the vines over the walls, the blue cornflowers at the windows.

It was painfully the same as she had remembered.

She quietly opened the latch to the door and stepped inside the threshold.

“You’re back.” As her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, she saw a man in a simple cotton white shirt and dark pants gently settling the white bundle in his arms into a crib. “How was your walk? Refreshing?”

“Yes…” Adeline stuttered. “Jasper?"

“Yes darling?” The man turned with a tender smile towards her, arms opening wide to welcome her. This time she did not hesitate and rushed towards his strong inviting embrace. Breathing in the strong familiar scent, feeling the warmth he radiated. All the while avoiding glancing at the crib she had seen.

“I’m tired.” She murmured. “Take me to bed?” She pleaded.

Jasper only chuckled.

As they finally settled in bed, his calloused hands, overused at the farm, began its motion of combing through her hair slowly, soothingly just like he did all the time when the two were in bed. Adeline closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t want to wake up from this and back to the icy cold acquaintance that they now shared.

“I had the strangest dream.” She murmured to him, burrowing deeper into his embrace, her ear rested on his chest, and she could hear the strong beating of his beating heart. “I dreamt that I left you. And that it destroyed you so badly that you became something I couldn’t even recognise anymore. And then I hated you so much and you resented me so much for turning you into what you became.”

“Left me…” Jasper repeated to himself, his hand froze momentarily in its motion.

Adeline looked up in desperation. If this was a dream, at least she would keep him happy. This much she could do at the very least.

“It was only just a dream though.” She tried to smile, raising a hand to trace his strong jawline. “I could never leave you.”

He resumed his soothing motion, combing through her hair, massaging her scalp. She hummed and turned to listen to his beating heart again.

“No, because what would happen to us if you actually left?”

Ah… the bundle in the crib.

She imagined a young boy, with golden curls around his temple and warm inviting hazel eyes. Who would call her maman, who she would teach French to, and raise him and teach him well, just as she had done to her handful of brothers and sisters. It would’ve been domestic bliss. It would’ve been what she wanted if she had been human.

She was drifting in and out of consciousness again as she lingered in her impossible dreams.

The soothing motion over her scalp never ceased. In fact it became more and more concrete.

“Adeline…. Adeline…”

There was someone calling to her softly, far away, at the edge of her consciousness. And it was getting nearer and nearer.

Somehow she felt safe, warm and calm. A sense of serenity washed over her.

She was protected.

She felt a light peck over her lips.

A chaste little kiss.

She chastised without opening her eyes, though her lips were slowly pulling into a small smile.

“What are you playing at-” she mumbled in her sleep.

And then she descended into sweet oblivion.

They met in the fields as usual the sun casting its shadow towards the east, amongst the waving barley and the golden wheat. Adeline was chatting animatedly about the latest novel she had been reading.

He cleared his throat when she stopped to take a breath in between.

���I have something to tell you.”

Her brows shot up no doubt finally realising that she had been hogging the conversation table for the last half an hour or so, but she quickly composed herself and gave him a reassuring smile. “What is it? I’m all ears.”

“I’m joining the army.”

“What?”

“I’m joining the Texas cavalry.”

“Why?” She looked bewildered, and there was a frantic look in her eye. “Don’t you have enough to do in the farm? The harvests and the cattle’s and… everything! Have you talked this through with your parents?!”

“I have. They are in full support of it.”

“But why?” She pouted her lips cutely, but her voices sounded betrayed. “I enjoy our time with you here everyday, don’t you? If you join the army, you’ll be working and training everyday. I-” she stopped and looked away, embarrassed, scuffing the sole of her shoe over the ground petulantly.

He chuckled. How to make her understand? That he was doing this exactly because of her.

“Besides, you’re a landowner yourself. I know the land isn’t much, but it should be enough for you right?”

“Adeline.”

“So why would you suddenly decide you want to become a soldier?”

“Adeline.”

“I mean sure I know you’ll excel in it anyways. You’re going to charm you way up. Then you’ll forget little ol me.”

“Adeline.” Jasper finally had to smirk. "You never let people finish what they have to say.”

Adeline huffed in annoyance and crossed her arm. “Fine. By all means!”

What she didn’t expect next was for him to clasp her hand in his.

“You might think that a farmer is well respected enough, but I’m a second son. When my parents die, my brother will inherit the farm. I can help with the farm, but it will never be mine. I’ll never have an income as prosperous as my brother will if I continue to work for him. When I do marry and then someday have children of mine, would I want them to endure the same fate as I have?”

“But if you love her then surely-”

“Would I be able to have better marriage prospect as my brother does? The answer is no. I would never be able to do better than him, I would be at a disadvantage, less likely to get the girl of my dreams. No decent gentleman would marry their own precious daughter to a second son. That is, unless if I make a name for myself in some other way.”

“By joining the army?”

“It was either that or become a priest.”

“There are other ways surely! You can study to be a lawyer or… or a businessman or anything other than joining the army!”

“Don’t you find some of the younger soldiers charming and dashing? I overheard you chatting with-”

“I care about you too much to want to see you get hurt!”

There was a solemnity in her clear blue eyes that betrayed nothing but sincerity and concern. It left him feeling giddy, that gave him a confidence he had been lacking for sometime to carry out what he was about to do that he had psyched himself up to do for weeks now. He couldn’t help but grin.

But it irked her to new heights.

“Stop it, don’t laugh! It’s not a laughing matter!” Adeline pouted again, slapping him in the arm repeatedly, and this time there were angry tears threatening to fall from her beautiful orbs. “I worry about you! Even if you seem no have no care about your own safety!”

“Fine! Go! Go join the bloody army if you love it so much for some bloody girl you think you’ve fallen in love with! See if I care when you get killed off by some stupid I don’t know what!”

She turned around and by the slight tremor in her shoulder and the sniffing he realised with a newfound panic that she was crying. This wasn’t what he had intended to do.

“Adeline.” He soothed, coaxing the girl to turn around to face him. “Are you crying?”

“No I’m not.”

“Hush, then turn around see that I can see you properly.”

When she did turn, he could still see the devastation over her face. The tear trails over the apples of her cheek, those eyes brimmed with unshed tears. But she stared back with great defiance, her chin held haughtily up. He has to suppress a tender sigh, his heart was so heavy with love for this girl, the little treacherous thing thumping against his chest so loudly he was sure she would’ve heard it.

“Adeline, you must know how important this is for me."

She looked away then and feigned boredom. “Why are you telling me this Mr Whitlock? You’re wasting your time on me. Shouldn’t you be looking for your bloody lover to her about this.”

“I really should shouldn’t I? But I need your help and advice.” He studied her closely as she bit her lips so hard it almost drew blood, as she raised a hand to finger her earring in an effort to calm her nerves mo doubt. He slowly reached out a hand to hold her chin and turn her pretty face back to his before delivering the final blow.

“But suppose I’m looking at her already right now as I speak?”

“Looking at her…?”

“Won’t you tell me how do I stop her tears and make her understand that I’m joining the army so that I can have a future with her? So that I can stand on my own and go to her grandmother to ask for permission to court her and marry her?”

He saw the moment the realisation hit her, Adeline’s mouth dropped as she stared mutely at him.

“You… I… I don’t think I understand what you-”

“I’m telling you that I love you Adeline. And I want to marry you.”

He stopped abruptly then to take a deep breath, his heart beating ferociously now, the rush in his ears was almost deafening, he was too fearful of what she would say.

But when her looked into her eyes, there was a newfound vulnerability, one he had never seen before. She wet her trembling lips.

“This isn’t a joke you’re pulling on me is this?”

“I would never joke about this.” He said with resolute.

Bashful, she looked down and sucked at her lips. And if he had looked closely, he would have seen how her cheeks were tinted red, not by the summer heat or the burning sin.

“No one has ever said that to me.” Her eyes were brimming with tears again though her lips were slowly, but surely drawing up into a smile. “I think… I love you too Jasper Whitlock.”

And that was the straw for him.

He stepped forward to close the gap between them, long arms stretching out to hold her tightly. Her arms slowly wound themselves around his neck, their face inches apart, looking straight into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t you think we’re a little too close for propriety’s sake, Mr Whitlock?” The corner of her lips tugging up playfully.

“Hush”. He thought his heart was going to burst. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

And under the setting Texan sun, amongst a golden burning world, they shared their first ever kiss, two hearts beating as one.

The thick clouds above were for once finally dispersing and the radiant sunbeams filtered in between, producing a luminous effect as it struck his skin.

The motion in his hand never ceasing, gently combing through Adeline’s hair as she herself laid on his chest, breathing in and out calmly. Without the hostility and the jitteriness, Jasper was almost fooled into believing that this Adeline was the same Adeline from his past.

But she was not.

Jasper sighed again, his heart so full of emotions it was painful.

He had wandered out after she left the house and subconsciously, or perhaps guided by a vengeful angel, he had stumbled across her, in the midst of a nightmare, curling into herself, whimpering. He acted on his natural instincts to soothe away the frown, and it mystified him that the moment he laid his hand on her head did the whimpering stopped. He couldn’t resist stealing a light kiss from those plump lips.

Looking down at Adeline’s serene sleeping face, Jasper wished he didn’t have to hide himself like this, that he could’ve held her when she was awake, her radiant smile guided towards him and himself only. Not like this, not when she wouldn’t even know that it was him who had comforted her and held her in her sleep, had warded away her nightmares, even if just for a few moments only.

Oh but he couldn’t let her know.

Every small movement now would send him into caution, to extricate himself from her before she woke, lest she would run away, lest he would startle her, deepen this gulf between them.

He surveyed their immediate surrounding, there was Adeline’s cassette player, the tiny thing’s battery had long since stopped running. He made a remark to ask her about the mixtape she had been listening to. The emptied coffee flask, the burnt cigarette butts. And there lying open with its cover up, its spine breaking right in the middle, was Rosalie’s old battered copy of To the Lighthouse. He remembered watching her going all out just to hide it behind the shelf.

It’s too painful. She had finally confessed one rainy day. But I can’t bear to throw it away. It’s like a mirror you hold up to juxtapose it with your own life.

He never read it, not in depth anyways.

He reached out to grab it and randomly flipped through it, scanning the words as he did so.

‘To want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have- to want and want- how that wrung the heart, and wrung it again and again!’

“What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”

[sergeantsporks]

Nowhere Else to Go

Rating: Teen, Gen

Graphic depictions of violence, Major character death.

TW: Self-harm, mentioned child abuse, emotional manipulation

Chapter 1/4: Houseguest

The titan's plan wasn't some glorious purpose. Hunter found that out the hard way. And now there's not many places he can turn to.

Ao3

“I’m going to get more elixir.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“I will be gone for a few hours.”

“Right.”

“You’ll be okay alone for a few hours?”

 Lilith looked up from where she was poring over a few of the ancient scrolls her mother had picked up trying to heal Eda—even if they were mostly hoaxes, there was likely a grain of truth in them. “Yes, Mom. I’m sure I can handle a few hours on my own.” Probably better than I do when you’re hovering over my shoulder.

Her mother paused at the door. “Love you, sweet flea.”

“Love you too, mom.”

And then she was gone. It was an… odd sensation, having her mother so worried about her. Caring so much. Lilith could almost understand why Eda had felt so smothered.

That didn’t mean it was a necessarily bad feeling. Just… different.

Lilith stretched and yawned, rubbing her eyes. Alright. Time to stop staring at bogus documents before she started needing to wear glasses all of the time again.

A knock at the door echoed through the silent house, and she frowned. No way that her mother was back yet. Lilith scribbled a few glyphs down  on scraps of paper and approached the door slowly, opening it with a jerk. The world tilted and dropped away beneath her.

Belos was at the door.

He’d come to finish her off—

What if her mother came home?!

“Lilith—” Belos started.

Lilith didn’t give him the chance to get any further. She slapped one of her light glyphs, squeezing her eyes shut as the flash went off, then went on the offensive, kicking Belos in the chest.

“I might not be the witch I used to be, but I am not powerless,” she hissed, sweeping his legs out from underneath him and tracing a quick ice glyph in the dirt to make shackles of ice that locked him in place.

“Wait!” Belos yelped, “It’s not—I’m not—Lilith, I’m not the emperor!”

“That is just about the worst ploy I’ve ever heard. Any last words before I rid the Boiling Isles of your rot?”

“You were the one who burned a shelf of library books because you were using wild magic!” he yelped in a very un-Belos-like voice.

It was an incredibly random detail to bring up, and filled her with a really ridiculous amount of annoyance given the situation she was in. “That brat! He promised he wouldn’t tell you!”

“I didn’t!” Belos protested, then after a second, “Hey, brat?! Really?!”

Waitasecond. Lilith squinted at him. “…Golden Guard?”

“Not anymore,” Belos replied sullenly.

Right. There was probably a reasonable explanation for this. “You… hit a growth spurt? And changed the outfit?”

He didn’t reply. Lilith heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sniff. “Are you… okay?” she ventured.

“NO, I’m NOT!” he burst, “Uncle Belos, he did—I don’t know, something, and now I’m stuck in his rotting body, and I… I don’t understand!”

A single tear rolled out from under Belos’ mask, and Lilith ripped the thing off.

Oh.

Oh, that was gross. Lilith stumbled back with a yelp. “What is that?!”

“Oh, what, like you turning into a great big owl monster is any better?” he retorted.

“Yes! Yes it is!” Lilith melted the ice shackles, squinting at him. “What… what happened?!”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, sitting up, “It’s a curse of some kind, but he never told me anything about it, I just…”

“No, wait, better question. Why did you come here?! We’ve never gotten along—what are you playing?”

He looked away, his hands balling Belos’ robes up into fists. “I… didn’t know where else to go.”

“My sister would have been a better bet,” Lilith said flatly, “She seems to be making a habit of collecting strays recently. Let’s see, misplaced demon king, human, bird worm—yes, I do believe a kid trapped in the body of her worst enemy would fit right in.”

“You think I didn’t consider that first? But I’m willing to bet that’s exactly where Belos will be going. If he plays the runaway card, your sister will be putty in his—or my, technically—hands. And I don't think they'd listen to me while I look like this.”

The momentary flare of hurt that Eda was, once again, the first choice, was almost immediately overturned with the thought of Belos sneaking into the owl house. Lilith ran for her mother’s crystal ball. “I’ve got to warn her!”

The golden guard hesitated in the doorway, watching her as she opened and slammed shut cabinets. She glanced at him. “What?!”

“Can I—you never answered—”

“What? Yes. Fine. Come in. Try not to get that weird face slime on the floor, my mother will freak.” Lilith tore through the cabinets. “Oh, come on! I know she has one! Hey, guard boy, help me look.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Lilith rolled her eyes, performing a smarmy little bow as she opened another drawer. “Oh, do lower thineself to help such a peasant as I, Golden Guard, sir.”

He scooted a little further into the house, checking under the couch. “Just Hunter. Please.”

Lilith paused, mid-slamming of a cabinet door. “That’s your name?”

“Of course it is!”

Of cOuRsE iT iS. Lilith finished slamming the cabinet shut. “Pardon me, but you never deigned to tell me! Or Kikimora!”

“The human never told you, though?”

“The hu—Luz? Oh, of course you told her. Sure. Why not? I suppose I’m always the last to know.” Lilith opened one last cabinet. “Oh, finally!” she pulled out the crystal ball. “Owl House. Edalyn Clawthorne.”

The ball went hazy, then re-asserted itself to a lovely view of Hooty’s face. “LULU!!!!!”

Despite the severity of the situation, despite the fact that Hunter-in-the-body-of-Belos was standing right there—hiding behind the couch, actually what was he doing there?—Lilith felt a smile creep over her face. “Hootcifer! Hey, the Golden Guard hasn’t shown his face around there, has he?”

“Bad but sad? Noooooope!”

“I resent that nickname,” Hunter muttered from his hiding spot.

“Okay. Good. I need you to make sure he doesn’t come in, and if Edalyn tries to bring him in… let him know exactly why it was so hard for me to capture my sister.”

“Okay! Any reason why?”

“Belos is up to something. I can’t tell you much over the crystal ball, I don’t know who’s watching. But the Golden Guard is part of it, and you can’t trust him. Don’t let him in, no matter what sob story he sells.”

“Got it, Lulu!”

The crystal ball faded to its usual blue color, and Lilith knelt on the couch, peering over the back at Hunter. “…What are you doing?”

“I’d think it was pretty obvious.”

Lilith thought she just might strangle this kid before the day was out. “Okay, fine. Why are you hiding behind the couch?”

“Because I look like Belos, and if they saw me here, they’d probably come swooping to your rescue.”

Lilith crossed her arms. “Maybe I’ll let them. So what if Belos was using you? He used all of us, you’re not special. At least I was trying to help my sister and fix the mistake I made. What’s your excuse?”

“I… don’t have one.”

“Wonderful.” Lilith grabbed the back of his robes, yanking him up to his feet. “Out. If Belos comes looking for you—”

Hunter grabbed her wrist, panicked. “Please don’t kick me out! I don’t…”

“Have anywhere else to go, I know.” Lilith twisted her arm out of his grasp. “Fine. Fine. Luckily for you, I’m trying to be a… better person.”

Hunter snorted.

“Do you want to stay here or not, brat?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then stop acting like one! Belos told you that you were special, and you believed him. This body swap thing? That’s why you were special, okay, it wasn’t because you had some great purpose, you weren’t meant to save anyone, or make the world a better place or any of that, you were just the perfect vessel for him to stick his slimy soul in, so don’t act like you’re better than me, because you’re not.”

Hunter jerked back, his lip quivering. Lilith took in a deep breath. Okay. Maybe that had been a bit too far—she had to remind herself that this kid was Luz’s age, just about, and he hadn’t really had anyone but Belos. “Belos was… good at making people do what he wanted. He uses people and then throws them away. I know. I get it. I’ve been there. You don’t even realize what he’s doing until he’s already cast you aside. But you’re here now—you know what he’s like, you know what he does. Welcome to Belos’ garbage can, Hunter. You better get used to it here, because Belos isn’t taking you back.”

The door burst open. “Lilith, who are yelling a—”

Lilith whirled around to see her mother standing in the door. She dropped the sack she was carrying and summoned her staff. “YOU!”

“Mother, wait—”

Too late. Her mother practically flew across the room, delivering a flawless blow to Hunter’s gut. He stumbled back, tripping over Belos’ robes and landing on the floor. Lilith’s mother raised the staff again, bringing it down on his head.

“YOU! YOU HURT MY DAUGHTERS!” whack. “YOU HUNT THEM LIKE ANIMALS!” whack. “AND NOW YOU’RE BACK?!” wham. “YOU’RE NOT TAKING MY DAUGHTER AWAY AGAIN, YOU MONSTER!”

Lilith grabbed her mother’s staff before she could hit Hunter again. “Wait, Mother, it’s not what you think! It’s not Belos—it’s the Golden Guard!”

“Please stop hitting me!” Hunter yelped, his arm up to shield himself from any more blows.

“The… Sweet Flea, I’m not sure that’s any better.”

Lilith gently pried her mother’s fingers from her staff. “It’s… complicated, but he’s not working for Belos anymore. Long story short, he needs a place to stay for a bit, and… if it’s okay with you—”

“If it’s okay with you, Lilith, it’s okay with me. If you’re sure he’s not up to anything.”

Hunter’s hands twisting Belos’ robes as he told her he didn’t have anywhere else flashed through her mind, and she nodded. “I’m sure. He’s… just a kid. An annoying one, yes, but.”

“A kid,” her mother sighed, “When I find the real Belos…”

“I’m sure it’ll hurt,” Hunter squeaked from the floor.

“I do apologize for that.”

Lilith hauled Hunter back to his feet. “Alright, alright, let’s find somewhere for you to take a nap, you look awful.”

“I… don’t think a nap is going to fix this.”

Lilith’s mother sloshed a bottle of elixir in one hand. “No, but I know what might help!”

“I… I don’t know. If fixing this curse was that easy, I think Belos would have—”

Mrs. Clawthorn uncorked the bottle and shoved in his mouth while he was talking. “Who said anything about fixing it? Make it manageable, perhaps, if what Edalyn and Lilith have told me is true. Drink your potion and take a nap.”

“It can’t hurt,” Lilith said quietly, “I think.”

Hunter did drink the elixir, then spit the bottle out with a grimace. “Okay, that’s horrible.”

Lilith pulled him upstairs to… Eda’s old room. “Don’t touch her stuff,” she warned, “I’m going to see about getting you something else to wear, you keep tripping on those robes. You should fit into some of my dad’s clothes.”

“Okay. Uh… I… appreciate it, Lilith.”

Lilith froze halfway through the doorway. “Sure,” she managed, “Just… don’t sell me out to Belos.” She quickly shut the door. Her mother was waiting down the hallway.

“What is the story, Lilith?”

Lilith shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Hunter… he’s been in the Emperor’s Coven since he was a kid. No magic to speak of, but he could do impressive things with a staff. We… never really got along, that’s just the way it was there. We were always competing for Belos’ favor, at each other’s throats to stay on top. Belos… always said that Hunter was special, and that the titan had plans for him. Turns out… that plan was… to steal his body. It was never the Titan’s plan, it was always Belos, planning to get out of his own cursed body.”

“Is there a way to reverse it? To switch them back?”

“I don’t know. Hunter doesn’t seem to remember what happened—it might just be shock, though. Maybe he’ll remember more about what Belos did, and we can reverse this—but we’d probably need his body back, and I’m not sure we’ll be able to find Belos.”

“One problem at a time, Sweet Flea. Let’s focus on getting him settled in, first. How long do you think he’ll need to stay?”

Lilith crossed her arms. “Long enough for me to explain the situation to Edalyn, at least, at which point he’s probably going to ditch us for her.”

“Oh, Lilith. Don’t think like that.”

Lilith glanced back at Eda’s room, making sure the door was still closed. “Actually… I… I don’t think he has that much time left,” she said in a low voice, “Maybe Emperor Belos just was inconvenienced by the curse enough that he decided to make the switch. But… I’m thinking taking over Hunter’s body was an escape plan. For when he got close to… you know.”

Her mother gasped. “You think…”

Lilith folded her arms, hugging herself. “The elixir might hold it off. Give him more time. But… probably not enough time for us to reverse this.”

“We… we can’t just give up, can we?”

“I’m not going to give up,” Lilith promised, “I’ll keep looking. But… I’m just saying that it might be all we can do to make him comfortable before… before the curse finishes what it started and… Hunter dies.”

Ch 2

[with-love-anu]

Badass women of Hogwarts

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: You always leave Fred confused, being a pureblood and slytherin he never quite expects you to be so kind

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries and passing out

Word Count: 2,909 

Fred rolled his eyes as the pink, monster of a woman as she took them to her office yet again. George was right behind him, sighing quietly. They couldn’t. Not when that first year had done nothing wrong. They had to take the blame.

“Ahhhh Miss (Y/n), doing good I hope?” she said, smiling wickedly at the student in front. (Y/n) bit her tongue, trying not to say anything that would get her into any more trouble. Her hand was already red and swollen.

Fred’s gaze shifted to you, writing over the small round table. He furrowed his eyebrows. Didn’t Umbridge support all Slytherins?

“Mr. Weasley!” came the teacher’s shrill voice and Fred looked at the toad again.

“If you two could please take the quills here?” she said mockingly as they both picked it up, sitting behind a small table together.

“What do we have to write?” they asked taking out a sheet.

“Write, ‘we must not destroy school property.’” She said, laughing. If there could be a worse sound in the world.

Fred started writing as he felt the familiar prick in his hands. Hundreds of needles, stabbing his arm as he tried not to hiss. He heard a small gasp beside as he turned to look at you. Your one arm was plump and you were writing from the other one. Did the witch made you write from both of them?

“Now Mr. Weasley, it would be nice to concentrate on your own punishment and let it sink in. Miss (Y/l/n), I hope you are getting the message?” she asked sipping her tea. Fred wondered if it was polyjuice hiding something far terrible from them, but then again, she was already horrendous.

“Yes, professor.” You said with such contempt, that George looked up exchanging a glance with him. The teacher however didn’t notice.

Fred kept sneaking glances at you throughout the next few hours. You were bit your lip as if trying not to say something. He never quite noticed you if he was honest. You were always with your close friends from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. You were a quiet person seemingly blending with the crowds. He always took it to be pride over your blood status, not wanting to mingle with the so called, ‘dirty bloods’. Now as he saw you, he wondered if he was wrong. He wanted to know what brought you here. He looked down at his own parchment thinking what had gotten into him.

He scribbled furiously, wanting to get this over with. George raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged. He saw you stand up, showing Umbridge your arms, getting a tut for approval. He rushed through the next few lines, filling up the page as he felt tears prick his eyes.

He stood up as you left the room, rushing to the witch. He showed his arms to her and the page. Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him. Fred bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying something.

“You may leave Mr. Weasley. Remember not to repeat it again.” She said as Fred tried to nod. Fred rushed out of the room, turning towards the corridor leading to the dungeons. He turned and finally saw you walking slowly towards your dorm.

“Heyyy! (Y/n)!!! Wait!” he called out as you turned to see the notorious boy with apprehension.

“What did you get detention for?” Fred asked out of breath as you let out a laugh little at his state and a little remembering the best moment of your life.

“I called her a stupid ignorant bitch who needs to re-attend all her classes at how not to be an idiot.”

“You, WHAT?” Fred said barking out laughing. “You didn’t”

“Well don’t tell me; I have a hard time believing it too!” you said laughing nervously. There weren’t many things that riled you up. But that woman was a monster, she infuriated you and the burst of anger was the result.

“Well, don’t you support blood purity and stuff?” Fred said looking at you. You frowned, deflating immediately.

“Did I say that?” you asked.

“No…”

“Then why did you think that?” you said sighing, shaking your head. You turned and walked back to your dorm, not wanting to continue the conversation. Gryffindors were mighty judgmental even though they upheld honor and bravery. Fred jogged to catch up with you.

“I didn’t want to offend you.” He said as you reached the Slytherin common room.

“Well, too late for that Weasley” you shrugged, moving inside leaving the red-head more intrigued than ever.

You tried to shake away budding thoughts as you lay in bed that night. You were done with people assuming that you upheld totally disgusting views on blood purity just because you were a pureblood and a Slytherin. Just because you were quiet didn’t mean you agreed with every single one around you. So why did his thoughts still plague you? Maybe it was because of the way he asked, his face as it lit up when you told him what you did. Whatever it was, you were sure that the next day would come soon and he would forget this conversation happened all together. Maybe you would too.

***

You took out yet another book, placed haphazardly on the shelf. You sighed seeing it wasn’t even in the right section of the hall. You took up to helping Madam Pince with the library long ago. You got to spend more time here than anyone, plus you had free access to the restricted section. There was a tap on your shoulder as you turned to see Fred. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Need some help?” Fred asked.

“No, it’s all good.”

“Listen, I’m sorry for yesterday. I totally didn’t mean to offend you. I'm sorry for being judgemental.”

“It’s okay.”

“Let me help you,” he said taking the book from your hands, and going to keep it in the right section. You found yourself smiling at his retreating figure.

You weren’t gonna lie, with his help, everything finished a lot faster and easily and you were thankful. Keeping the away the last stash of books you sighed. Fred grinned beside you. The two of you went to a secluded table at the back, hidden from Madam Pince. Unless, you shout at the top of your lungs, you could pretty much keep talking here.

“Thank you for helping me today.”

“It is always my pleasure to help the badass women of Hogwarts.” He said dramatically as you laughed.

“Believe me, I don’t know what took over me. Maybe it was her just drilling everyone, I was done.”

“It was still badass.” He said with sparkling eyes and you smiled widely.

“What about you?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why were you being punished?”

Fred told you the reason as you felt the familiar knots tie up your stomach. She was horrid. You wondered why she was given the job of a teacher in the first place. Fred sensed your expression and changed the topic. You both laughed and talked and for the very first time, you felt at ease. The twins were like that, weren’t they? Making everyone comfortable? Your eyes widened at the time. The two of you had been talking for hours! Fred followed your gaze to the huge clock and grinned.

“I must say (Y/n), for a quiet student, you sure do talk much” he said smirking down at you. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Do I hear complains?” you asked, raising an eyebrow and Fred laughed.

“Not at all, miss!” he said, bowing down as you giggled a little.

***

Fred started seeing you almost everyday. It was always nice to talk to him, to be near him in general. You would laugh, have fun and just forget about everything, if only for a little while. George joined you two sometimes and the three of you would goof around. You felt light for the first time after years. Come to think of it, you didn’t remember a time when your close friends talked about anything other than Umbridge and NEWTs. It was a great change.

Fred never not called you ‘Miss’ or ‘Madam’ having his little smirk on as you tried hard not to blush. Something had changed a while ago as you saw Fred helping a terrified first year Slytherin. Your heart had started to flutter whenever he was around. You had started to melt at his compliments. You knew where this was going and didn’t like it. At all. Didn’t stop your heart from doing it anyway. There were so many reasons against you for falling for the notorious red-head. You didn’t want to destroy the new found friendship. Then why did you keep finding yourself staring at the freckles which covered his cheek, his sparkling eyes which were sharper and darker than his twin’s? His smile that warmed your heart?

The three of you were coming back from the library as George and Fred told you yet another story of the burrow. As you turned the corner, you saw Umbridge holding a child’s arm as he cried, leading him to her office. The grip was tight and sure to leave bruises, even you could see that, standing feet apart. You scowled trying to breathe. Fred and George looked at each other.

“Are you thinking what I am?”

“We have an important prank on our hands?”

“Yes, we do.”

“I’ll join you.” You blurted, looking at them both.

“What?”

“I’ll join you. I want in.” you said as they grinned at you.

“You’re most welcome, Madam!” Fred said winking at you as you felt your heart do flips. You tried hard not to blush.

***

You started pranking the pink disaster along with the twins and you weren’t sad about it. Even for a moment. You had fun seeing steam rise out of Umbridge’s ears, her face contort in the most hilarious of ways. She looked comical. One time turned into two and then three and you never quite stopped. You always did it when she was overlooking a punishment, so as to help the students. And it was never not funny. You did get caught at times, but you faced all the punishments bravely. There was a satisfaction in it, getting punished when you knew it was you who did something deliberately for it. And the twins made it easier too. It was like you weren’t alone. All in this together.

Fred loved this side of you. The side that was wild and untamed. You would come up with the most crazy of ideas and were amazing at executing them too. Your eyes sparkled and there was a passion in them that he loved. Nothing seemed to deter you, not the punishments, not the scoldings, not the friends who held you back. Fred had overheard them telling you to take care of yourself as you’d just laughed and said, ‘It’s time I took care of others.’ Fred’s heart had strangely warmed on hearing it. He didn’t know what it was, whether it was pride or something else.

It was yet another detention. Umbridge had made you go on for hours. You had taken blame for it all. Fred paced the corridor outside the office. He was worried. It had been four hours already. Not to say that you hadn’t healed properly from the last punishment, now this? His heart beat faster with each passing second. Why the hell would you do it? They were in this together. Why did you have to save both their asses?

“Fred, sit down.” George commented. He sat on the low stone wall and had seen Fred become more and more anxious for you.

“I can’t. I can’t. I need to see her. What is that witch doing to her? We need to get her out George. She-“ Fred huffed as George shook his head. He was so oblivious to his own feelings.

“Do you like her Fred?” he asked softly as Fred stopped to look at him, frowning.

“Of course I like her, she’s my fri-“

“Don’t be dumb, Fred. Do you like like her?” he asked as Fred’s eyes widened. It was as if on queue that he heard the office door opening and closing. You came out, wiping your face with your sleeve. They both jogged towards you. You smiled at them forcefully.

“Heyyy…” you said, your voice raspy. Fred’s heart beat faster on seeing you. You had rolled your sleeves down so they couldn’t see the wound.

“(Y/n)-“

“Could I see you two tomorrow? I’m very tired.” You managed to get out. You knew Fred would flip on seeing deep cuts on your arm. He would do something reckless and get in trouble. You didn’t want that.

George nodded, Fred didn’t. His eyes were pleading as he looked at you. You couldn't take it. You knew that if you looked at him a second longer, you would break.

You turned, walking back to your dorm, trying not to let the tears fall. It hurt, it hurt so much. You felt your head zoom suddenly and you plopped down in a corner trying to take in deep, deep breaths. You whimpered, slowly rolling up your sleeves to see the damage. You slowly pulled away the cloths you’d wrapped your arms under, hissing at the sensation. It was still bleeding. Profusely.

“(Y/n)!!!” Fred’s voice came as you tried to wipe away your tears, but weren’t fast enough. Fred’s heart dropped on seeing you. You were crouched in a corner, holding your bloodied arms. He gasped as he slowly walked over to you, sitting down on the floor beside you slowly. He didn't utter a word. Maybe the silence would fill in everything he wanted to say. He was scared he would hurt you. You looked at him, your eyes red, as he took your hands in his. He rummaged through his bag taking out a gillywater vial.

“Fred, that’s the last batch. I ca-“ you started as he shushed you. He transformed the vial into a large bowl, increasing the potion as much as possible. He let your hand sink in them as you hissed making his heart contract. He looked at you seeing how hard you tried not to cry. Tears pricked his eyes. As he saw your wounds slowly healing, he took the bloodied cloths, cleaning them. He dipped it in a paste Hermione gave him, which helped to calm the skin down. He wrapped them both on your hands, as you took them out of gillywater. You kept looking at him as he worked, his hands so tender and careful, you’d think they were flowers.

He looked at you as he was done. He wiped away the tears you didn’t know had fallen. He kissed your forehead and heard you sniff. Wrapping his hands around you, he pulled you closer. He didn’t know who needed the contact more, him or you. You broke down. He felt you shake as you cried into his chest. Fred felt as if someone squeezed his lungs as he let his own tears fall. No. Not you. He didn’t want you to suffer. You didn’t deserve this. He blamed himself for not coming forward as George had held him back. You were always strong and seeing you break like this, it triggered something in him. he wanted to keep you like this. If it was what it took to keep you safe. He realized something. He realized just how much he had come to love you, to cherish you and seeing you hurt, even if it was a little, killed him. He had to tell you.

He didn't know how long he held you. He picked you up when you calmed down and led you to your dorm, putting you to bed. He whispered sweet dream wishes into your ear and you sighed. He got out of the Slytherin house dorms and started planning.

***

You woke up to a shuffling in your bed. Your eyes widened as you saw someone shifting. You were about to scream as a hand stopped you and you met with familiar brown eyes. He took his hands away smiling at you softly. You squinted at him. Was he blushing?

“Fred?”

“I’m sorry I woke you up, but this couldn’t wait. And it’s almost afternoon anyway.” He said nervously as you looked at the time. 12pm. He wasn’t wrong. You let out a laugh. Maybe you were pretty exhausted since yesterday.

“Ummm, these are for you.” He said, giving you your favourite flowers. You were confused but smiled widely nonetheless.

"Thank you, are-" you started but Fred shushed you.

"(Y/n), I realised just how much I love you yesterday. Seeing you hurt, it broke me." He said cupping your face. Your heart flipped. "I am in love you. And I hate myself for taking it so long to realise. It's okay if you don't like me back. But I really needed to tell you. I-"

You pressed your lips against his. He gasped but pulled you closer, kissing you like he was dying to. Maybe he was. He pulled away breathless.

"Wait, I wanted to ask you out on a date!" He said as you laughed.

"We can go on as many dates as you want. But first let me kiss you properly" you said pulling him down to kiss again.

A/N: This is written for Clarrisa's ( @approved-by-dentists ) 400 writing challenge. This is also, based on the ship request, I did for @futurewriter2000 which can be found here.

[fishmongeringstudies]

five: the ballad of the goose-girl

once upon a time there was a goose who wanted to become a man. or there was a man who wanted to become a goose. or there were both, or there were none, or there were many of the same spell. once upon a time there were ten thousand geese and they wanted to go south. why? because it was too cold up here, they said. too far from the equator. too lonely.

one of the geese was called jorge. jorge had been assigned the role of miserable family caretaker with an inferiority complex from birth but a brief spell of rebellion in their teenage years led to their official disengagement from the role and subsequently, the adopting of a new one. jorge was a philosopher. their favorite philosopher was kant. they had never read any kant because geese can't read.

dimitri could read. dimitri was a goose but there was, how do you put it, something a little off about her. sometimes dimitri woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, her blankets kicked to the other end of the room, babbling about microeconomics and the supply-demand curve for cross-continental flying gear. dimitri was in a mad, one-sided love that consumed her body and soul, but this wasn't that bad in the broader scheme of things because this gave jorge, who couldn't read, something to do.

sometimes dimitri would read jorge poetry. dimitri had memorized every book of poetry in the main branch of the national library when she made a stopover there in her youth and could now be called upon to recite almost any poem from memory, as long as she didn't hate the poet. for example, dimitri hated sylvia plath. no matter how much jorge begged and pleaded with her as they flew over the skyscrapers of new york, the masses of writhing trees and open fields dotted with cows and sheep and death, she would not change her mind. 'please,' jorge would say while they stopped to rest on the fender of some college student's beat-up honda civic. 'read me a poem. any poem.' 'you mean,' dimitri would say, taking a drag from her cigarette. 'read me a plath poem.' 'that's not what i said,' jorge would respond defensively, because jorge was the kind of goose that assumes the world is out to get them no matter what and sticks their head in the gift-horse's mouth and then screams down its gullet for five minutes. finally, dimitri would laugh. 'that's what you mean.' then the conversation would end.

one day dimitri and jorge got separated from the flock. this was not unprecedented, as dimitri had been lagging behind for a few days now and jorge, being her designated attendant, had stayed with her. but it was just as frightening for jorge as it had been the first time, fifteen years ago when dimitri had pitched out of the sky halfway across philadelphia like an anvil and jorge had found her sprawled on the fender of some sad person's fucked-up lamborghini, looking like an angel in a bad insurance advertisement. it was always the fenders. dimitri had a thing for fenders.

dimitri also had a thing for letting her long, healthy history of communication problems fuck up her relationships with other geese, a habit she had picked up in her youth alongside smoking, lying, and reciting poetry. she was doing all three of the latter as they circled around the deserted shopping complex a fifth time, the sun a blurry white spot a few feet beneath their heads. 'did you know,' said dimitri, a cigarette clamped in her beak.

'no, i don't know,' said jorge.

'asshole. i haven't started speaking yet.'

jorge observed the setting sun with a detached kind of panic. 'yes you have.' they brushed something out of their eye with their wing. the smoke from dimitri's cigarette kept getting into their eyes. it was making it hard to concentrate on not being sad. 'you said 'did you know.''

'that's not the important part.'

'then what is the important part?'

'the important part is-'

south meant many things to many creatures. depending on who you asked and what time of the day it was when you did, you might get anything ranging from 'the southern tip of malaysia' to 'nineteen-seventy-five'. right now, in this particular snapshot of time, south meant the following things. for jorge, it meant freedom. for dimitri, it meant-

'-is that every shopping mall is a little haunted.'

jorge was unimpressed. most things were haunted to some degree or another. it was a very old world and the people that lived in it were all very broken, but that didn't stop the broken things from wanting to hang around, even after their ribs had cracked open and their lungs were smeared with soot. they told dimitri as much.

dimitri cleared her throat, which was hard to do while lying and smoking and flying in a circle around a deserted haunted shopping complex but otherwise feasible for a geese as competent as her. she turned to look at jorge, the trickle of her gaze sliding over their white, wind-tossed body like a cool hand over a flame.

'what i'm saying is let's spend the night there.'

;

once upon a time there was a goose named dimitri who was in a mad, requited love that consumed her body and soul. her partner was a poet, of course, because all geese want to fall in love with a poet, but here's the catch. jie ting never told dimitri which poems were about her. dimitri spent years trying to coax the confessions out of her, making her breakfasts in bed, bringing home cute little mice with their tails tied up in butterfly knots, kissing the spot where her wing met the curve of her body with the kind of reverence worshipers reserve for the day they meet their creator, but jie ting was stubborn and beautiful and kind and dimitri could never bring herself to do the truly horrible thing, to walk into her study and crack open the journals she kept those intimacies in. in spite of this, well, this thing between them, they were happy. they puttered around making cups and plates out of wet clay. they told stories about their cousins who had gotten lost in rain forests in the amazon and streets in taipei. every year they made the long journey down south, and then flew back up in the spring. and then jie ting died, and then there was no one left to coax anything out of.

the doctors said there was nothing dimitri could have done for her. for every million perfectly preventable deaths there are two to three freak accidents, faultless failures, broken vessels. and for every broken body on the pavement, trampled by cars bigger than the both of them combined, there was a broken heart.

dimitri closed up their old haunt in the woods. she broke all the mugs and gave all the bones back to their grieving micey relatives, who were horrified, and then angry, and then sad. then she flew all the way down to singapore and learned every poem in every poetry book they had in the national library, a looming glass building in the heart of the business district, and dragged her battered body all the way back up north, through miles and miles of snow-kissed nothing, and then jorge returned home in the spring with the rest of the good ones, the ones who weren't fucked in the head, who still had hope to speak of.

she can teach me poetry, thought jorge.

they definitely went to a liberal arts college, thought dimitri.

neither of these things are true. but neither are the stories that led them to each other. a lie canceled out a lie and after the dust had settled and dimitri had recovered from the ghost of death on her shoulder, they found each other standing right where they had started out, on opposite ends of the same crooked street.

;

the perfume store smelled like sixteen layers of hell distilled into a single bottle of wine that had been left to ferment for a few millennia and then smashed in a pool of vomit but it was the only place that wasn't so overgrown with vines that jorge could clear out a place for dimitri to lie down. they did so with an efficiency that startled even themselves, brushing dust and old receipts aside with one wing and spritzing the whole place clean with the other. dimitri was then coerced into the little sacred spot, though she was deeply reluctant and jorge was deeply embarrassed about the whole thing. desperate times call for desperate measures. when there are two geese and one perfume store and nineteen shades of bergamot and lavender, one learns to quieten their demons.

the funny thing about geese is that they are about sixty-percent neck and forty-percent everything else and yet a goose lying sideways occupies two hundred percent of the previous amount because geese are conceited like that. dimitri took up more than enough space on the shelf in the perfume store from hell, but with a little maneuvering she was able to make enough space to pull jorge down beside her. the funny thing about geese is they have very big egos, and very small dreams.

'imagine i am your mother,' said dimitri, waving one wing idly in the dark. 'singing you a lullaby as you drift off, packing your lunchbox for school, turning out the light in your bedroom.'

jorge's eye twitched. 'huh? i will not,' they said. 'that's disgusting.'

'oh. you think i'm disgusting?'

'no, that's not what i mean-'

'-but that's what you said.'

'-i said the idea of you as my mother is disgusting.' jorge hid their face in their feathers but their beak was too long and stuck out in a highly noticeable manner, therefore ruining the effect altogether. they grumbled to themselves, then spent a few minutes contemplating the fifteen feet of nothing that lay before them. a field of snow, ash, or flowers. darkness could be whatever you wanted it to be. that was part of the appeal of closing your eyes.

'hey,' they said.

'mm?'

'why won't you recite a plath poem?'

the sound of something soft against the wall. dimitri was brushing the flat of her wing along the wall behind her, over the faded labels and the peeling tiffany blue paint. 'because i can't.'

'but you know them, don't you,' jorge pressed.

'i do.'

'then?'

'how old are you this year, jorge?'

'old enough to read depressing poetry.'

'but not old enough to have fallen in love.' she withdrew her wing from the wall. it came away caked in dust and old memories. rich, gold-kissed families with kids in little bow-ties, babies forgotten in well-lit dressing rooms, the occasional stabbing. 'am i wrong?'

jorge bristled behind her. 'what does love have to do with this?'

'because,' dimitri mused, and jorge felt every sound that she made in their chest, where the heart was working furiously to keep blood circulating without end. 'all poems are love poems.'

'you know,' said jorge.

'i don't know.'

'good. you shouldn't.' jorge curled themselves tighter, so the two hundred percent became a hundred and ninety-five. 'i'm going to sleep. good night.'

;

once upon a time there was a goose who would do anything for her lover and then that lover died. once upon a time there was a goose who was really good at literary analysis, so good she could have taught at harvard if she hadn't wanted to be closer to her lover, who worked in non-profit and spent most of her time abroad, and then her lover died. once upon a time there was a goose. and she knew a lot of poetry. it was the last thing she did for jie ting, with the gray-dusted coat and the heather eyes. do geese have heather eyes? fuck it. this one did.

once upon a time there was a goose who really wanted to go to a liberal arts college, but their dad gambled all their savings away on a business venture which went bust moments before the big cash-out and so the college fund became a college black hole, a college financial aid form which procured miserably few sympathies from the financial aid office, a college nothing. this goose was really quite smart, though they couldn't prove it to save their life. but the other goose knew. the other goose wasn't as smart. she'd just had more money. and worse luck.

this isn't a love story. in this story there are no love stories because in some languages every story is a love story, and if everything is something then there is really nothing, no takeaway at the end of the parable, no shard of glass in the sand. imagine you're walking along the coastline in a white dress made from diamonds and you step on that shard of glass. there goes your foot. what will you do? the world is ending.

in the morning dimitri wakes up first. she touches jorge's forehead with the tip of one wing, then the flat of it, then the side. there's a bar of sunlight coming in through a gap in the moth-bitten blinds and it falls across jorge's face in rivulets of gold-leaf, liquid wonder. she watches them sleep for a few minutes, their chest rising and falling and trembling with all that infallible youth, with the faithless determination of someone whose body has grown older but whose soul has stayed as faultless, as clueless, as divine. if god were a goose it would be jorge. says who? says dimitri, who has god's number saved on her phone.

once, a few months ago, she wrote a poem. this she read out to jorge, while they were flying over the rooftops of san diego, each word falling out of her mouth like stars, like things she should have really kept to herself and in the safety of untouchable darkness and yet jorge was looking at her. she was reading this poem and jorge was looking at her and it wasn't the kind of look you gave someone you found by the side of the road, someone who had helped you with your college apps and tied your tie on prom night. it was the kind of look you gave an angel you wanted to pin to the sheets.

'is this poem about someone?' asked jorge, who was for all their cluelessness and cruelty, quite terribly perceptive when one wanted them least to be.

panicking, dimitry dropped her cigarette. she shook her head. 'no.' she shook her head again, for emphasis.

once, dimitri had a fit of coughs so bad she passed out right there in the lobby of that high school. the doctors said it was her lungs. her friends said it was the cigarettes. jie ting, who was long dead by then, said it was the heartbreak. put it back together, said the ghost of her dead lover. you can put yourself back together. maybe i don't want to, dimitri said, a sheaf of papers falling out of the pocket of her coat.

once, she didn't go south. she went up north in search of forgiveness, and when jorge arrived in the spring, they were as lovely as she remembered them being while she had gotten nowhere. still stuck in place, spinning in slow circles, watching god die on a white-gold stage. still mourning.

'i'll write you a poem,' jorge said the other day. 'to thank you.' for being the first person. for being the first person ever.

'don't bother,' she told them.

'i'll do it anyway.'

'i won't read it.'

'you will.'

once there was a goose and another goose and they were all lovely and sad with long, elegant necks and hard, sharp beaks for cracking things open but all they ever did was crack themselves open, like if you hurt yourself enough times you could make the world give you back what it had taken away. but that's not how it works. you know this. you know this, don't you? dimitri? dimitri?

dimitri's still in that old perfume store. she's leaning closer and closer to sleeping beauty, with the lanky limbs and the merry-go-round smile, and she's whispering something, though she'll never tell you what and you'll never get the chance to ask, she's breathing like the air's made of glass. sea-glass. have you ever seen the ocean? she'll take you one day. your name is jorge and you're asleep. you're being kissed on the mouth by a very beautiful person. she's going to die.

but all living things die eventually, you counter. you don't get it. you are missing the point.

that's fine. miss the point. keep sleeping. the moon pulls away from you the way some people pull knives out of bodies, like she can feel every inch of distance she puts between yourselves in her chest, where the heart is working furiously to keep life alive. she pulls away and it hurts her, you know. did you know? you can fall in love twice. you can fuck yourself up twice. there's always room in the cupboard for more ceramic mugs. she made you one. she'll never give it to you. you never asked.

that's your first kiss. and your second, and your third, and as you grow older the kisses will meld together into this looming memory of touch, sensation, heat, softness, girls, girls, girl. girl with the cigarette between her teeth. girl with the sharpshooter eyes, the gunmetal laugh. girl walking you home, girl flying you across the starless city, girl singing you a lullaby when you're eighteen and the world hates people like you who give life everything you've got and have the audacity to think it'll listen.

girl walking out of the perfume store. girl stepping into the half-light. girl leaving you behind.

or maybe it's the other way around. this way you will be able to catch up to the rest of the flock, this way you will make it to the other side of the world before winter gets its hands around your ankles. she's giving you an opportunity. take it. i said take it.

south means a lot of things depending on who you ask. for jorge, it's freedom, new skies, sunsets drenched in whiskey. for jorge it's the second best thing about being alive. for dimitri, it's death.

once upon a time there was a goose and their name was jorge. once upon a time there was a goose and her name was dimitri. in another version of this story they meet each other before the accident and the hospitals and the house in the woods, the financial crash, the long, cruel winter. in another version they kiss with their eyes open, their hearts unspooling around the confession, the truth, the sacred thing that lets people be happy with each other. in another version of this story jorge says read me a poem and dimitri says i'll read you something sweeter, and then she reads them a love poem.

in this one, one goose dies, and the other keeps flying.

A smile fell in the grass. Irretrievable! And how will your night dances Lose themselves. In mathematics? Such pure leaps and spirals - Surely they travel The world forever, I shall not entirely Sit emptied of beauties, the gift Of your small breath, the drenched grass Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies. Their flesh bears no relation. Cold folds of ego, the calla, And the tiger, embellishing itself - Spots, and a spread of hot petals. The comets Have such a space to cross, Such coldness, forgetfulness. So your gestures flake off - Warm and human, then their pink light Bleeding and peeling Through the black amnesias of heaven. Why am I given These lamps, these planets Falling like blessings, like flakes Six sided, white On my eyes, my lips, my hair Touching and melting. Nowhere.

05.25.21