#or how much communities across the city missed out on when the libraries had to close on the weekends to feed his fuckass cop budget

[ohello0]

ERIC ADAMS INDICTED

[lycheepocketwitch]

𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 (𝐦𝐚&𝐭𝐡𝐩 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞)

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: it's been a decade since you've stepped foot inside shield. you can't say your're exactly excited to see your old classmates again, but all you have to get through the reunion and then it's another goodbye.

warnings: suggestive language

word count: 2.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist | also on ao3 | library blog

It was true what people said about how dramatic high school seemed; your tumultuous relationship with Wanda was evidence of that. Anything and everything that happened to you two felt like it was the be-all and end-all of your lives. Years down the line, you would shake your head at how much heartbreak you went through, all because of poor communication. Your high school experiences definitely shaped who you had become, but you still wished you would’ve fought for yourself a little harder back then.

At least, you no longer were the quiet artist your peers knew. Perhaps moving to the West coast did you some good after all. It wasn’t easy moving across the country, but it felt necessary. You were never going to stay in Westview forever, and New York City just reminded you too much of high school, no matter how big it was. That wasn’t to say that Los Angeles didn’t have its pitfalls, the incredibly expensive houses being one of them. You weren’t really looking forward to paying off your mortgage on top of your college debt (although alleviated a bit by the scholarships you’d gotten over the years). The one good thing out of this situation was that you’d get to have your forever home with the love of your life. All that was left was actually finding it.

You fiddled nervously with the ring on your middle finger as you took one last glance at yourself in the mirror. “You look lovely, honey,” your mother cooed from the doorway of your childhood bedroom.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my mom,” you said.

Your mother simply shook her head in disagreement. “Don’t forget to drop by the Proctors’ bakery for your cake-tasting appointment.” You hummed in response, rearranging your loose white blouse under your mustard yellow blazer. “Two buttons,” your mother suddenly said.

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

“Leave two buttons undone. You and your fiancée will thank me later.”

“Oh my god, mom, I’m gonna leave now,” you said, ignoring your laughing mother as you made your way down the stairs. You bid goodbye to your parents quickly before leaving the house.

hot shot fiancée #2: you’re not thinking of ditching are you? hot shot fiancé #1: wow you have so much faith in me hot shot fiancée #2: i was just checking to make sure to see if i had to punish you later😈 hot shot fiancée #1: how am i supposed to drive to the last place i want to be knowing i could have you in my bed instead if i stayed home? hot shot fiancée #2: patience baby and you’ll get your reward ;) hot shot fiancée #1: you’re gonna be the death of me omg hot shot fiancée #1: i miss you so much hot shot fiancée #2: i miss you more❤️  i wish i could be there with you right now hot shot fiancée #1: me too❤️ see you soon i love you hot shot fiancée #2: i love you always💕

You smiled down at your phone, turning it off to get ready to pull your rental car out of your parents’ driveway. Driving down the street, you couldn’t help but glance at the Maximoffs’ house, a nostalgic feeling bubbling up at the sight.

A loud ringtone broke you out of your thoughts. You carefully reached for you phone in one of the cupholders and trying to accept the call while keeping your eyes on the road. “Hello?” you said as soon as you accepted the call and put it on speakerphone.

“Where are you?” Yelena’s angry voice rang through.

“I’ll be there soon,” you said, wincing when you noticed that you were now going to be at least 30 minutes late if traffic wasn’t going to be a total asshole tonight.

“I’d believe you if you didn’t have your location on, pchelka. You aren’t even in the right state right now!”

“I’m sorry! I got caught up. I swear I’ll try to be there as soon as possible.”

“The missus isn’t even with you and she manages to distract you,” Yelena scoffed, but you couldn’t help grinning at the thought that soon, you’d be married to the woman of your dreams.

“You love her,” you retorted.

“Yeah yeah, whatever, she grew on me. Now, get your ass over here. I can’t stand these people. All they’re talking about is how they were the shit in high school.”

“Why are you there when you clearly don’t want to be?”

“Free food, duh. Now, hurry up!”

“I will. I will,” you said, shaking your head in amusement even though she couldn’t see you.

True to your word, you made it to your old high school less than an hour later and found Yelena leaning against a tall table near the group that had formed around Vision.

“Why would you subject yourself to this torture?” you snickered as you successfully managed to sneak up from behind her and spook her. Yelena wasn’t nearly as amused and just smacked you on the arm with the back of her hand.

“They took my goddamn table,” she grumbled.

“It has your name on it?”

“I had it first. It’s the closest to the bar,” she explained, slightly glaring at the group who didn’t spare her a second look.

“Come on, little miss grumpy,” you snorted, not bothering trying to tug the woman away since there was no way her stubborn ass was going to move now. You had to give it to the reunion committee. They did an excellent at redecorating the gymnasium to not make it look… well, like a high school gymnasium.

“I can’t believe you left me here alone, all of you!” Yelena exclaimed. In defence of Makkari and Druig, you didn’t think they exactly planned on timing the birth of their first child to match the night of the reunion, but you didn’t say anything as not enrage the other woman even more. “I had to listen to Vision talk to his groupies about his upcoming projects for Stark Industries’ line of smart home gadgets.”

“Is that even legal? Shouldn’t those be like super under wraps or something?”

“I bet you it’s a marketing scheme, making it seem like he’s revealing some deep secret when really, they’re relying on the crowd to spread the word to others,” Yelena shrugged, downing her shot of vodka.

“Oh Pietro!” you suddenly heard Vision shout as he waved at him to come over. You and Yelena followed Vision’s line of sight to see Pietro slowly making his way to the younger Stark with a tight smile. As he made his way to their table, he greeted you and Yelena with a subtle head nod, which you both returned before you continued your conversation.

The tables were close enough for you to hear Vision and the rest of the group congratulate Pietro on winning a silver medal at the previous Olympics, as well as Pietro thanking them and answering any questions they had about what else he’d been up to. To outsiders, it would look like old friends catching up, but you distinctly remember the fallout the Maximoff twins had with the popular kids. You started to tune out the group’s questions to solely focus on your conversation with Yelena until you heard Peter Quill ask about his sister.

“She’s been good too,” Pietro answered easily. “She’s still doing her residency in pediatrics and she loves it. I think she had to finish up something urgent at work today, so that’s why she’s late.”

As if on cue, the doors to the gymnasium opened once more to reveal a very late Wanda dressed in a plum colored, tight fitting evening gown with a cowl neck. Maybe you were biased, but it definitely felt like time had stopped as you watched her standing by the entrance in search for one particular person. She was even more beautiful than she was in high school and you couldn’t help your thumping heart as you kept your eyes on her while she grinned when she finally found the person she was looking for.

Wanda didn’t bother with niceties like her brother did. She made her way straight to you, gently caressing your cheek before pressing her lips against yours. “Told you, I’d see you soon, sunshine,” she murmured, staring lovingly into your eyes.

“Not soon enough,” you said quietly. “You look gorgeous in that dress, by the way. I can’t wait to take off you.”

It was apparently not quietly enough because that prompted Yelena to cough and reply, “One, ew. Two, I should have you know that I’m very offended by that. If you don’t appreciate my presence, I have no problem making myself scarce.” At the same time you told her you didn’t mind that, Wanda protested and told her to stay. “I’m gonna remember this betrayal,” she said, playfully narrowing her eyes at you.

“I will not be blamed for wanting to spend some alone time with my fiancée,” you asserted with a shrug, snaking one arm around Wanda’s waist to rest your hand on her hip.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. We have the rest of our lives together,” Wanda cooed and placed a gentle kiss against your cheek.

“Are these two making you feel like a thirdwheel again?” Pietro asked Yelena after leaving Vision’s table to stay at yours.

“Always,” Yelena groaned, earning herself a round of laughter from all three of you.

You’d been quite apprehensive about this night. While you had gained a lot of confidence since your high school days and were practically an entirely different person, you weren’t exactly ecstatic to go back to the place your insecurities had stemmed from. Wanda was the one who convinced to give it a shot.

She didn’t pressure you into going, but she did tell you that it’d be a nice way to show your younger self that you’d grown. “Plus, I’d get to show off my incredibly hot fiancée to everyone,” she had added, only somewhat jokingly.

The night wasn’t nearly as bad as you’d imagined it would be. It was pretty boring and uneventful, but Wanda was right, if younger you could see you know, she would be so proud of you for getting this far.

“So,” you drawled, “when can we leave?”

“I just got here. I haven’t even gotten to show you off yet,” Wanda whined. Seeing you pout, she sighed. “Fine, we can leave soon, but I’m parading you around before we head to your parents’.”

You let out a small chuckle and relented, looping your arm into hers as she started to drag you around the gymnasium to quickly say hi to old classmate before leaving the reunion. Yelena trailed behind, grumbling about how she was going to get payback on Kate for bailing last minute and not attending her reunion next year.

“Your girlfriend is a busy CEO, Lena, give her a break,” you said and laughed when Yelena’s pout transformed into a grin as she showed you a text from Kate saying that she would try to make it up to her with cuddles. You said goodbye to your best friend and got into your car, opening the door for Wanda to get into the passenger seat.

“You think your parents are asleep yet?” Wanda asked, rearranging her hair so that laid over her seatbelt while you put the keys in the ignition.

“Probably not,” you responded and you could tell Wanda was smirking without even looking at her. “You better actually be quiet this time. I don’t want a repeat of last Christmas.”

“I was quiet! It’s not my fault there was a freaking spider that showed up out of nowhere and landed on the bedside table.”

“I can barely look my dad in the eye now,” you groaned. “How awkward was it when he went to pick you up from the airport earlier?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Wanda shrugged. “And you know what, I would say it’s pretty impressive that that was the first time they caught us in bed.”

“I would’ve preferred it if they had never caught me under you instead.”

“Aw, is my baby shy about being a bottom?” Wanda teased. You snapped your head in her direction, watching her with an incredulous look.

“You’re gonna regret saying that,” you said and redirected your eyes to the road.

“I don’t think I will,” she replied. She leaned towards you to kiss your cheek and from the corner of your eye, you saw her lean back against her seat while she crossed her legs.

You smiled to yourself thinking of how far you two had gotten. It had taken years for Wanda to grow into herself and stop caring so much about what people said about her, and for you to learn how to stand your ground and not let others walk over. After all this time, you’d finally gotten to this place where both of you were ready to enter a steady and serious relationship together. It wasn’t an easy journey and even now, you had your difficult days, but you were both so happy to have each other again, at last.

[camslightstories]

All of you

Lena Luthor x Fem. Reader

Request - Anonymous

Warnings: Angst, homophobic comments, self hatred, negative comments and thoughts. 

Notes: Hey Guys! How are you guys doing? So First of all I'm sorry for taking so much time to write and I hope you guys are doing great! My messages and asks box are always open. I think this request has been the easiest but scariest to write and I hope you would like it! It’s a little overwhelming I know but I'm here if you need a friend.

I’m always open to hear about suggestions, comments, theories and more. Right now until I get caught up with my request I'm not accepting more but when I finished all of them, I will! Hope you guys enjoy have a great day!

Taglist: @captain-josslett​ @aznblossom​ @multi-images

National City had become your home after you and your family immigrated to the US from Y/H/C. The streets that once looked mysterious now were more than familiar. The library which took your time most of the afternoons. The park that was less than a mile away from your house where you went to find calmness when you could. The small cafe restaurant right around the park where you and your family went to celebrate sometimes when your parents could afford it. The small music store in which you spent your summers working and studying during your high school years. Everything was familiar, was safe and it didn't change with time. 

You appreciated your family, you loved them and you couldn't be more grateful for them but there were times that you wish you understood them. Every day your parents had been putting pressure on your shoulders that sometimes was too hard to manage, there were comments of how you needed to look, how you needed to be, what you needed to be, and more. You kept quiet as both of your parents recited every day what was wrong with you and what needed to change.

With the passing of the years you learned to keep quiet and just go with whatever they were saying, it was easier. Easier to explain to them why you wouldn't want things, or why you would feel a certain way. And with two parents constantly reminding you how you need it to be to fit in society, you learned to keep quiet. 

There were contradicting things, and comments that made you wonder about your life with them. Things like ‘We came here for you, we had a built life in our country but we wanted you to be better, small jokes about the LGBT community jokes about people with different weight and more. They would comment on what you were wearing, what you had done with your hair, why you wouldn't put makeup on, why you wouldn't hang out like the other kids, everything had always a small comment and you learned to live with it. 

Sometimes you wished you would say something, as you cried in your bedroom until you couldn't more. You looked at the mirror and saw all of those imperfections that they had remarked, and you hated it. You hated the fact that you stood in front of a mirror and every single time there was a self-hatred coming from you.

You hated that you didn't look like they wanted as much as you tried. You hated that you weren't comfortable with everything you did even though they said that it was going to make you feel sure of yourself. You hated the fact that you couldn't go an hour, feeling like the best you could without having a comment on how you looked. How it wasn't appropriate for society, how you looked like a shadow, a scared child, someone who doesn't take care of themselves, how you just looked unpleasant even if you tried your best. 

The black combat boots you had been longing for so long had finally found a way in your feet, after months of doubts and saving you had finally got them. You moved your feet as you sat in the car on the way to the restaurant with your family since a friend of your parents was in town. 

A smile on your face as you check your outfit, a grey crew neck knitted with black mom jeans, and your small cross-body purse on your right shoulder. Without noticing you guys had arrived at the restaurant. You got out of the car, like the moon and the stars brighten the night, looking up smiling, you registered that it was the first night out your family had made a comment about how you look, and with victory, you started to walk to the sidewalk beside your family. 

Your father looked up from his phone and eyed you from head to tone in a questionable glance, before sighing as he rubbed his temples. “Y/N, you look like a homeless person. Couldn't you at least find something good to wear in that closet of yours? We are dining with the O’mells, couldn't you at least look presentable ”

“Yeah, little sis looks like princess Fiona. All ugly” Your older brother joked as he laughed loudly, hitting you in the shoulder. Your bit the inside of your mouth as the insecurities started to come into your thoughts. Rubbing your shoulder carefully because of the impact.

Your younger brother interrupted, before both of the guys started to laugh. You looked down at your shoes, as you felt a tear ran through your cheek quickly cleaning it as you heard your father clearing his throat. “Don't get me started on the horrendous shoes, what are you a lesbian?”

“You have five minutes to look presentable, put on makeup so you don't look like a zombie, and next time you are not entering with us if you don't look like the lady you should be.” He said before opening the door of the restaurant as your mother gave you the keys to the car.

“Yes sir, I will. I’m sorry, so sorry” You responded immediately only to be ignored by them. You breathed in and out as you felt the need to let the tears fall but keep quiet looking at the car window as your reflection came across it. 

Your head was so involved in your insecurities that you see the young black-haired woman that had been standing a few meters from you watching the scene unsolved.

Lena stood there captivated by you the moment you had gotten out of the car, completely forgetting the fact that she had called over a taxi. Clenching her jaw as she saw the way your family had basically shamed you. She waited until they had left and walked to where you stood in front of the car window. 

Your Y/E/C eyes staring back at yourself lost in your head. Your hands held the car keys strongly, as a way to control your insecurities. You bit your lip as your eyes raked over your face, tears invading your eyes.

She slowly approached you before touching your shoulder softly. You flinched as she did, and turned around immediately with a concerned expression on your face. Your eyes looked down apologizing only for two green eyes to be looking right at you. 

Her black hair falling on her shoulder, a green tucked-in shirt, and a concerned expression hidden behind the charming smile of the woman. Immediately speaking as she kept eye contact. “Hi, I’m Lena”

“I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” You responded introverted after a second with fidgeting hands.

“Lovely name, for a charming person” She stated flirtatiously with a smile. You looked at the green-eyed woman confused, the older woman tilted her head as you immediately looked behind you curiously because of her comment. 

Noticing Lena’s expression you pointed at yourself, and the woman seemed to understand perfectly, nodding rapidly with a smile on her face before speaking. “You are quite lovely, and I would love to offer you dinner if you want tomorrow?”

“I-” You started as your insecurities flowed in. You were looking at the black-haired woman apologetically, only to stop as you looked over to the window to see your family on one of the tables smiling and laughing with the O’mells. 

Looking away from them, you looked down and back up. Glancing at her before finishing talking as fast as you could, letting out a sigh which converted into a small smile when the green-eyed woman laughed as she put her hand out, asking for your phone. “Yeah, I would love to”

“Okay then. Here is my number darling. See you tomorrow at 7 here then.” She stated rapidly as her hand lingered on your phone, while you annotated your number on her phone. 

A taxi stopped in front of the restaurant making the black-haired look away from you as she sighed. Lena walked closer leaving a small kiss on the palm of your hand before walking away. A redness crept on your cheeks as she did, making you look at the ground. 

---

Ten months, ten great months. With hidden moments that made your heart flutter every time. Kisses that grounded you, comments that made you blush furiously, cuddles after hard days, dates that you wished to be never-ending, and moments that you cherish every second of it. Your insecurities and fears were forgotten by the comments Lena made, only coming out on small moments that were inevitable, moments when you felt the self-hatred coming back, moments where you loved everything except yourself. 

The soft smell of plumerias invaded your nose as you sat in the university library, books surrounding your table as you studied with handwriting on the notebook and the other rubbing your temple while reading through the book in front of you. 

You kept studying until a soft hand touched your waist softly, immediately you moved away looking at the person weirdly ready to argue with the person only to find your girlfriend in her business attire. The bouquet was full of plumerias on one of her hands and a large bag of food on the other hand with a charming smile on her face as she sat next to you.

Your face lightened up speaking and immediately blushed when she reached for your cheek leaving a small peak on it, trying to remove the evident red mark on your cheek she rubbed it softly with her hands. “Babe! What are you doing here?”

“Hello, love. I wanted to see you, plus I knew you weren’t gonna eat anything because of your research project and I miss you” She responded immediately smiling widely.  

You tilted your head before shaking your head carefully looking at her before looking down to the carpet floor as you responded. “I miss you too, you didn’t have to come all the way here. You are a busy woman Lee, I’m not supposed to waste your time-”

“Darling, don't ever doubt that you are wasting my time. To me it's the best and most important part of my day is when I'm with you” She interrupted bringing your face up with her finger, closing the distance between the two of you immediately with a short breathtaking kiss. With your cheeks burning red, the two of you rested your foreheads with each other as she spoke softly looking at you as if you were the most precious thing on the planet, and with that glint in her eyes, she made you believe it. 

---

The different laughs are heard on the balcony as the rest of Lena’s friends and somewhat your friends sat on the living room floor. Screaming, laughing, eating, and competing in another game night. You stand on the balcony with a wine cup and your phone answering the text your dad had sent you. Your dry and immediate response was already answered with a goodbye. Your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you hesitated and typed the wanted message only to remove it immediately as you took every last drop of the wine on your glass. 

Staring at the lighted city, you wondered. You wondered if you were finally ready, you wondered if the feeling of happiness and butterflies in your chest would ever become pain again, you wondered if what your family had said over the years was true, you wondered if Lena would ever get tired of you, if she would wake up one day and realize the butterflies she once had for you were now gone, you wondered until you felt the familiar presence of your girlfriend hugging you from behind. 

She murmured into your neck, as she rested her chin on your shoulder. Your scented shampoo and fragrance filling her nose makes her leave small kisses on your cheek while speaking “Are you okay?”

“I want to tell my parents, Lee” You immediately admitted turning around meeting the sight of your girlfriend. Her hair was down with small waves on the end, her oversized button-up shirt you usually wore in her apartment with rolled sleeves and some of the bottoms completely open revealing some of her freckles on her cleavage.

A sincere look of confusion, worries, and happiness on her face. Grabbing both of your hands delicately she spoke when you kept silent and started to fidget with your fingers. Rubbing the palm of your hand softly as she spoke. “Y/N, love, are you sure? Whatever you want to do, whenever, and however. I'm always going to be by your side”

When the words came out of her mouth, she didn't hesitate to bring you into a warm embrace, holding you close by the waist as you rested your head on her shoulder. The two of you swaying slowly at the sound of the music Kara had put on the TV while you spoke softly looking up to kiss her only to be interrupted by a yelling voice. “Thank you-” 

“You took my potsticker! Lena, Alex took my potsticker!” Kara yelled, glaring at Alex. Alex kept her challenging stance glaring at her sister, Sam, and Lucy choking down the laugh as the Danvers Sisters kept up. 

“You ate mine! Y/N come and defend my honor, your best friend's honor” Alex shouted desperately, making you laugh as you looked at Lena, seeing her chuckled before walking inside separating the two when she took the other box of potstickers out of the refrigerator, both of them running to the kitchen to either side of the black-haired woman.

You laughed as you saw Lena scold your best friend and her best friend, making them walk back to the sofa giving the potstickers to Sam and Lucy and leaving some for you and her. The Danvers duo sitting on the floor as they started to shuffle the cards quietly, pouting making everyone else laughed with you. 

---

The silence that overwhelmed the car made your heart rate somewhat faster, thoughts, possibilities, doubts, and insecurities running through your head. As your now white knuckles were gripping the steering wheel. The sunlight of the afternoon made the pressure increase, the smell of the variety of pastries on the back of your girlfriend's car

Lena watched you worried as you sat quietly. It had been half an hour since you guys had arrived and there wasn't any movement from you, she wouldn't even know if you were breathing if your chest wouldn't move when you did. Worried now as she feared you hurting yourself, mentally. She decided to speak up softly putting her hands on top of yours which immediately softened in her hands. “Y/N/N, if you don’t-”

“I do, I'm ready” You pleaded while looking over at her, meeting her careful glance.

She responded, giving a small kiss on the cheek as you grabbed the pastries. Making you nod slowly as you got out of the car. “Okay, love. I'm right here by your side”

As you knocked on the door, the nerves that were once quiet now were rigging in your ears loudly. Your little brother opened the door and went to say something only to stop when his gaze fell on Lena, immediately accommodating his posture before opening the door completely with a smile on his face, to which Lena responded with another smile.

“Hey Jo, it's everyone here?” You asked for his attention only making him scoff, you shifted uncomfortably in your feet. A small voice in your head repeating the name again and again like a song as you stepped to the side.

He answered before extending his hand to your girlfriend. Lena looked at him weirdly, controlling her feelings when the 16-year-old kid called you that but kept the fake smile for your sake. “Yeah, but aren't you gonna present your charming friend? Thought you were better than that Fiona”

“I’m Joseph, you can call me anytime” He flirted with the green-eyed woman only to be ignored completely. 

She claimed following your glance at the pictures on the wall. Various family photos on them and also photos of your brothers with awards and trophies and only a few of them of you. “Lena”

“Y/N is here and she brought company!” Your older brother yelled as you stood in the middle of the living room, Lena by your side. 

Lena looked around as the two of you stood waiting for your parents, the house was completely clean, without a spot of dust in any place. Pillows, blankets, photos, books, and everything was perfectly placed, at first it seemed comfortable, cozy, and homey until she realized the fact that it looked too perfect. To perfect to be happy, to perfect to be comfortable, to perfect to make mistakes, to perfect to be yourself.

Your older brother was sitting on one of the edges of the couch with his phone in hand, glancing at Lena flirtatiously as she stood by your side. Your younger brother was leaning against the door frame texting when your parents came out of the kitchen. 

They looked at you curiously before speaking. Your Dad immediately commented on what you were wearing before extending his hand to take Lena’s. You gulped down when Lena looked at you when you kept quiet only responding as respectfully as she could.  “Couldn’t you at least look presentable?... Welcome to our home, I’m Y/F/N”

“Lena, Lena Luthor” She responded respectfully, shaking his hand and giving your mother a small smile. 

Your older brother, Nick, questioned as he looked at you up and down, rolling his eyes right before glancing at Lena flirting “And how in the world did Scar score to be Lena Luthor’s friend?

Lena looked at you shocked when you kept quiet and avoided her glance. She was about to counter back a response only to be stopped by the sound of your voice.

Clear worry and fear in it. You fidget with your hands after you set the box of pastries aside hearing your mom commenting “Yeah, darling put those there before you look like all of those people on the TV, horrendous” 

Lena clenched her fist and kept her head high, her expression slowly with each comment changing into her CEO character. Tensed muscles, head high, fake plastered smiles, and the confidence like she had the whole world in her hands. Even though her whole world was standing less than a foot away from her.

“I wanted to tell you guys something,” You said, taking a step towards them. All of your family watching curiously.

“I’m Y/S/T and she is my girlfriend, Lena” you continued as Lena took your hand for support. Your breathing had gotten quicker and the tears of fear in your eyes were evident, with a trembling lip as you spoke.

“That’s a good joke” Your younger brother responded letting out a small laugh while the rest of your family kept silent looking between you and your girlfriend. 

“Just because you decided to look unpleasant all the time, making no guy ever attracted to you so you know decided to be with a woman” Your father was the first one to get out of the trance scoffing in annoyance and anger. 

Your mother gasped yelling, with anger in her voice. “It’s a sin, Y/N!”

“It's a sin, Y/N. We are Christians just because you're immature and hideous and nobody is attracted to you, means you are going to break the rules, young lady” Your father claimed getting closer to you with a demanding voice, his finger pointing at you threat making you take a step back.

You pleaded to take a shaky step closer to him, only to immediately flinch as he screamed angrily. “Dad, plea-”

“NO! Absolutely no! We are not going to accept your idiotic tactics, just because you can't find someone to love you! Newsflash Y/N, like that you won't ever!” He screamed angrily, taking a step closer, making Lena step in with her CEO stand in front of you grabbing your family’s attention. 

Tears came slowly out of our eyes as you looked down, biting your lip to keep the soft whimpers and sobs that were coming out. Your dad eyed the black-haired woman up and down before stepping back letting out a sarcastic laugh, making your girlfriend raise her eyebrow in question to him.

“And her! Do you really believe someone will love you? And will be attracted to you? A woman you know how complicated women are with their taste. You need to get the thought in your head that if you don't change. YOU WON'T EVER FIND LOVE!” He shouted. 

“You have no reason nor sentiment to treat her like that!” Lena claimed as she stepped in front of your father. Clenched fits with white knuckles, a threatening stand, and an intense glare with a clenched jaw containing her anger.

You took a step forward putting a hand in her bicep making her turn around immediately, recognizing the soft touch of your hand. You spoke softly only to be interrupted by your mother’s yelling. “Lee, please. It doesn't matter-”

“Out of my house! NOW! And never ever come back until you change from being an abomination” She yelled as she slapped you, making you gasp before walking out of the door with tears coming down your eyes. 

Lena glanced at them finding pain, hatred, insecurities, and more. The soft makeup you had on your face had become black spots on your face. Your Y/E/C colored eyes were hidden behind the redness. A red evident mark on your face where your mother’s hand had made contact with your skin. Every single detail made her angrier and angrier by second, losing control at the side of you hurting. 

“She is perfect just the way she is, a completely passionate, sweet, kind, emphatic, wonderful, selfless person. And she is so much more of what you guys told her, she is perfect” Lena snapped as she felt the anger take over.

How dare they treat you like that? How dare they tell you those things? How could you stand to all of that? How dared they thought and said things like that of you? How couldn't they see the amazing human you were?

“This is my house-” Your father started as he looked at her angrier with a challenging look on his face in which your girlfriend returned.

She said, taking a step back, raging herself soothing her black dress. “It may be your house but first I will have to be dead for you or anyone else to treat the person who is my whole world like that” 

“You know, you guys may think she is a complete mistake, abomination, and more but she is perfect, she is the person I fall in love with every single minute more and more. You guys are the ones losing the greatest thing in your life, I feel sorry for you but the truth is you don't deserve, hell I don't even deserve her. Have a great day and I think it's a little over the top but if any of you tries to reach Y/N just to be like that then I can sure I will make your life a living hell” She finished letting out a smile of satisfaction when all of them clenched their jaws and kept quiet before walking out. Leaving your family madly quiet in the living room.

Your knees were high and pressed into your chest as the furiously streams of tears came down. Somehow the smell of Lena in the car calmed you, the sweet smell of mint and lavender invaded your nose. The only sound you could hear was your heavy breathing. The passenger leather seat felt uncomfortable, the salted flavor of your tears on your lips as you cried, everything felt wrong as the thoughts and insecurities run through your head.

Everything they said was true.

You are an abomination, nothing and no one will love you.

So full of imperfections, so full of horrible things, full of-

“Love? I need you to breathe with me. In and out, darling please” You heard her pleaded as she grabbed your hand, noticing the way everything felt too close, too overwhelming, too bad. 

Lena kept stroking your back as she kept your hand close to her chest making you feel the way her chest rises and falls trying to make you follow it. Your eyes kept staring at her hand with yours as your sobs started to calm down, and everything began to zoom out. In a blinking moment, you stumbled into your girlfriend's arms, holding her tight, hiding in her chest making Lena hold you as close as she could trying to keep her own tears out when she saw how hurt you were. With her reassuring and words, the minutes passed slower than usual.

“I’m sorry” You murmured repeatedly into her neck, as she started to stroke your hair. When tears began to fall again from your eyes. 

She didn't wait for another second to bring your face to rest on her forehead, both of you sharing an Eskimo kiss. The closest, the comfort of it brought you happiness and butterflies in your stomach which were abruptly kicked out when the thought of what your family said came back to you.

You pulled away meeting green tearful eyes, which made your heartbreak more. The voice in your head telling you it was all your fault, that she wouldn't want you anymore or that she ever wanted you because your family had opened her eyes to what you truly were. With a shaky and broken voice, you commented fearfully as you glanced back to her eyes and your trembling hands. Scared of what was going to happen next, scared of everything as you tried to hold on to the happiness she had made but you knew the moment, Lena would say the words. You will break in million pieces, beyond repair and everything would feel worse than it was before because you had met your sun and without it, the night would remain constantly reminding you of her  “It’s okay if you don’t want me anymore, I know what they said it's true-”

“Y/N, what they said wasn't true. You are far away from what they said you are perfect and wonderful and I don't know how they can see you like that because all I can see is my whole world, the love of my life, my person” She interrupted cleaning your tears with her thumbs as she grabbed your face by the cheeks bringing you closer to her slowly. 

Holding you like if you were glass, afraid of breaking it, afraid of losing it or damaging it because to her you were the best thing in her life and she wasn't going to let you go. It was the moment your eyes met, when you saw, heard, and felt everything. There was an understanding of what the two of you meant, all the love, all the happiness, and the pain, everything was there standing freely in silence. 

In a silence that made you believe it, she made you believe every word, every action, and the love and comfort which radiated out of her expression made you forget everything. The comforting and loving silence was more than enough to let everything behind, to dream of the desired future you both wanted. It was perfect, you wouldn't change a thing of what you were feeling or what had happened because everything led to that moment, the moment you knew you were going to be okay, the moment you realize that for the first time in your life you felt like enough, the first moment in your life you called something that was part of you perfect. The happiest moment of your life for now.

[wallwriterstuff]

Found Family ||Demetri Volturi x Female!Reader||

Part 2 found here: Baby’s First Christmas 

Warnings: Anxiety and panic, mentions of child endangerment 

Words: 7565

Summary: A request for @kpopgirlbtssvt

There are things Demetri never thought he could have, things he had never dreamed would be within his grasp ever again. He has plenty of experience with newborns…just not your kind of newborn. 

He was absolutely perfect. You couldn’t imagine anyone better for you than Jeremy. He had always been the sweet kind, the kind that complimented you when he held doors open and gave you his jacket when you were cold, the kind that paid for one date if you got the next. He was a hit with your parents and your friends. You were just so sure about him, more sure than you’d ever been about any of the other idiots you dated throughout university. That was why you were confident it was going to be okay when you missed your period that month, because this baby was Jeremy’s and he was your perfect match, your partner for life, so wasn’t it time to start living it? You’d told him the same night your first pregnancy test came back positive.

You’d never seen a man pack so fast.

Everything that was his in your shared apartment was gone and with no one to fill the space you had been forced to move home. Moving home meant telling your parents you were pregnant and that your baby daddy had run off into the wind, and that had gone down about as well as sticking a fox in a henhouse would. For the past eleven months it had been constant snubs, snide little remarks and complete overreaction to everything you did from your parents. How were you supposed to learn how to be a mother if your own constantly hovered and took over at the slightest perception something was wrong? Your daughter had been in this world for two months and she had most likely been held by your parents more than she had you. The timing of your friend’s sudden job offer was perfect for you.

She had planned a holiday in one of the more scenic cities of Italy, shutterbug that she was, but the job required her to move across your home city post haste. With her holiday deposit on the line, everything had been transferred into your name and the ticket dropped off at your doorstep. Your parents had done their best to convince you to stay of course.

You’re not ready to go on a holiday alone with her.

What’ll happen when she gets fussy on the plane hmm? You think she won’t? How will you handle all the people looking at you then?

We still help you with night feeds, how are you going to do that on your own?

You ignored every single one of their pleas and got yourself and your daughter out of there. The moment the heat and the sunshine and invaded your senses you knew you had made the right decision. Lyra wasn’t sure what to make of the sunglasses you put on her little face, and more often than not she pulled off the wide brimmed hat on her head, which left you in a very cyclical routine of putting hats and glasses on whenever they came off. There was lots of green space in Volterra, and so many beautiful alleyways hiding quaint little shops to wonder about in. Your spending money was limited but it didn’t mean you didn’t splurge on a few treats. Your favourite place by far though had to be the fountain in the centre of the square.

Though it was often bustling in the daytime, come the evenings it was calmer and quieter, cooler to. Laying back in the crook of your arm, Lyra seemed to find the splashing sounds of water and the way the light reflected off of it absolutely fascinating. If you had had a full day she sometimes napped, but when she was awake her little eyes were wide with wonder and she looked between you and the water a lot, trying to communicate with you exactly what she thought about it. You pandered to her of course, rocking her gently as you had a one-sided conversation about how beautiful Volterra was. If you didn’t have responsibilities back at home you could happily see yourself adapting to this slower pace of life. As it was, this small dose of peace in your newfound haven was all you would get, so you decided to make the most of it.

It was one of your last days in the city when you were approached by her. She was Aphrodite incarnate you were sure, statuesque with flawless skin shrouded in shadow, yet her hair couldn’t hide from the sun. No, it caught the beams and threw them back at the world with a dazzling amount of shine that left you utterly awed as she approached you. She looked down at Lyra, plush lips pulling into a smile and revealing perfectly white, straight teeth.

“Buon pomeriggio, hai bisogno di assistenza?” she asked. Her voice was like honey, sweet and smooth, trickling through your consciousness until all other noise simply faded away. You blinked yourself out of your stupor, your brain scrambling to try and translate what little Italian you had picked up over the past week you had been staying here. You could hazard a guess at the last word, and you knew the greeting well enough, but you weren’t sure about the rest.

“I’m sorry, erm, I don’t know that much Italian, Er…erm… non capisco?” you tried. Her laughter was as sweet as angel song, as feather light on your ears as a lover’s whisper.

“I see. I asked if you need assistance. Are you perhaps waiting for someone?” she questioned. Her accent was thick but oddly out of place, seemingly a mix of many different accents mingled into one. It wasn’t unpleasant to listen to however.

“Oh, no we’re okay thank you.” You smiled up at her, squinting slightly in the harsh sunlight. Her head tilted, glossy waves of caramel falling like satin over her shoulder, one strand slipping over the next in a gorgeous waterfall that left you more mesmerised than even her voice could.

“Then perhaps I might interest you in a tour of Castello Volterra? It’s so hot out here, the ancient stone will keep you cool and give you chance to take many more marvellous pictures.” Her head turned, a silent indicator that your camera had taken her interest. Your cheeks flushed pink – how much more obviously a tourist could you be? Lyra had yet to stir in your arms and you glanced down towards her, biting your lip. She’d been asleep for quite a while now and had been safely in the shade of her hat, but a cooler indoor climate would probably do her some good.

“How much?” you asked, cautious of spending your remaining money. She trilled a laugh.

“I’m looking to make up numbers, some turiste dropped out and I have spaces spare.” She waved you off with ease and, well, who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth? It never occurred to you in that moment that you hadn’t even caught her name or asked for a badge; the woman was enigmatic and honestly you were more than a little enamoured so her name seemed quite irrelevant as you hurried to gather your things and walk after her. You left Lyra’s buggy at the front desk with the secretary, your daughter finally stirring some and grumpily making her displeasure known with quiet half-cries and a pouty lip. The rocking movement as you walked and the strange décor of the place was slowly drawing her attention, your hand patting her back while your free one held your camera aloft.

When you had been told you were going to tour a castle you had expected more opulent decoration, tapestries and chandeliers, maybe some plush carpets. At first you had seen what you expected, a grand library decorated in deep reds and blacks with a stain in varnished wooden flooring that came with a ghostly story of blood spilled within medieval walls. You were thrilled, your eyes magnetised to your tour guide as much as they were too any painting or gilded book cover. It wasn’t until Lyra began to fuss and take up more of your attention that you started to notice how…odd, the place felt. The stone walls did little to keep heat in and compared to the outside the castle itself was freezing. Lyra had nestled into her shawl, sharing body heat with you, but you were starting to feel goosebumps pebble your flesh now.

It was not just cold but dark too. Very little natural light entered the castle’s rooms, and on the odd occasion you found a square patch of sunlight streaming through admittedly pretty windows, your tour guide avoided it with effortless grace. The further into the castle you went, the colder, darker and less extravagant it got. Bare stone walls were embellished with little decoration and the warmth in your guide’s voice was now gone, her pace hurried and heels clacking off the stone as though she was impatient to get you to the end of this tour for some reason. You struggled to keep up and quickly fell behind, Lyra’s fussing growing worse as she too started to feel the chill in the air and odd atmosphere. Her wriggling grew more intense and you had to lower your camera to tighten your grip on your daughter, hushing her gently when she began to snuffle, huffing breaths through her nose.

They were signals you knew well. With the nappy bag over your shoulder, you slowed your pace and started to rummage through the contents of the large satchel, producing a cloth for Lyra and settling it beneath her chin as you pulled her upright somewhat, pausing in the corridor to readjust your grip on her lest you drop her. A soft cry escaped her, face scrunching in the build up to something louder when you felt the ominous presence behind you. Turning around you were face to face with a man at least a head taller than you were, dressed entirely in black with dark dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders. He radiated something dangerous, made every instinct in your body scream at you to turn and leave him be. Lyra seemingly sensed it to, letting out a wail on demand. In the brief moment where you turned your head to look at her you swore a flash of dark red, the same kind of colour as wine, caught your eye. It wouldn’t have been so strange to you if that flash of wine hadn’t appeared quite high up, at eye level, say.

Lyra was far more important though, her cries cutting off into a gurgle as she spit up just as you had expected her to. The warm vomit splashed onto the cloth, dribbling down as you scrambled to catch it and wipe her mouth. Her screaming grew louder at that, the horrible smell of bile and acid reaching your nose and making it scrunch.

“Keep moving.” The man’s voice was deep. It rumbled in his chest and shook you to your core.

“Is there a bathroom up ahead? Somewhere I can clean her up?” you asked.

“Keep moving.” He repeated, closing in on you with slow, deliberate steps that set your nerves jangling. Holding Lyra closer to your chest you clasped the back of her head tenderly, bouncing and rocking her to try get her to calm. Your daughter was here in your arms, unsettled and in need of your comfort. You had to be calm for her, even if your heart was racing in your chest.

“I need to see to my daughter.” Your voice was firm and left little room to argue, but he didn’t stop moving towards you. Heart leaping into your throat you took a step back, shaking your head and struggling to calm Lyra as you tried to remain firm and not give anymore ground. Your heart raced, a hot flush overcoming you as anxiety made itself present in a sudden, nauseous wave. Why wasn’t he stopping? Why wouldn’t he listen? Couldn’t he see your daughter needed your care? See he was scaring you?

“Keep moving and you can see to her then.” His voice wasn’t comforting in any way and it was difficult to believe a man so intense. He was twice your size and built well, very capable of man-handling you if he so chose to. You had tried to avoid looking, tried to play it off as a trick of the light, but when you looked into his eyes it was plain as day that you had been correct. His irises were the colour of rich red wine, and to your astonishment they only seemed to darken as they stared back into yours with such intensity your thundering heart was all you could hear for a moment. There was no ring around the colourful part of his eye. Nothing indicated that he was wearing contact lenses, but he couldn’t have had red eyes could he? It wasn’t possible…

“I think I better leave. Where’s the exit?” you asked shakily. Something was wrong here, wrong wrong wrong. The corridor was long, not a single door in sight. You could navigate the hallways again right? There had to be an exit somewhere close. Lyra was only growing more unsettled, screaming now at the top of her lungs. People were whispering behind you and the man was growing ever more annoyed, shooting your daughter a disgusted glare as if she had physically offended him with the noise. You instinctively held her as close to you as possible, turning slightly to shield her from him.

“Keep. Moving.” He ground out.

“My daughter isn’t well, we just need to leave! There has to be an exit near here!” you snapped. It was more fear than anything else that had made you snap, desperation more so than anger, but the man seemed to take it as such. He seemed to inflate somehow, shoulders squaring and lips pulling back over his teeth as he stalked ever closer when a pale hand intervened, gripping his arm. Given the way the man flinched, you guessed the newcomers grip was hard. Head snapping to the left, you turned to try and convince our saviour to help you, only to freeze at the sight of apple red eyes. They were the same red eyes, just different shades. He inhaled sharply as he locked eyes with you, his expression somewhat distant for a minute as you tried to make sense of the sudden and inexplicable relief. It was small, barely made a dent in your anxiety in the grand scheme of things, but it lessened some of your nauseous gut feeling to simply lay eyes on this man even if he was clearly a part of this strange tour company.  

“Is the little one alright?” he asked. His voice was smooth and rich, the deep bass reverberating through your head. He had the kind of voice you could listen to all day, the kind you could envision being good for audiobooks. Lyra was still screaming in your arms, her wailing echoing back to you off the walls. You bounced her again, rocking her side to side with a shake of your head.

“No, no I need to take her back to the hotel, please, tell me where I can find the exit?” you were almost pleading with him at this point. He nodded slowly, his gaze strangely intense, unwavering and unblinking. On one hand you didn’t mind it; you liked the way he looked at you actually, with a hint of wonder and trepidation, as if you were the thing in the room to marvel at and the expensive paintings on the wall weren’t worthy of a second glance. Given the general atmosphere of unease that you had picked up on now however, his stare also left you feeling minorly uncomfortable. He held a hand out towards you, his arm open and separating you from the man with the dreadlocks.

“Allow me to escort you to a quieter room so you might tend to her needs.” He said. You swallowed thickly, itching to agree despite barely knowing him or his intentions towards you and Lyra. It felt safe, like his waiting embrace was something you could depend on. Getting you away from the strange man had to be your new priority, but could you really trust a stranger?

“Demetri, what are you doing?” your tour guide was back, her musical voice distracting you somewhat from the beautiful man before you. He was made with the finest of nature’s ingredients you were sure, with high cheekbones and a jawline that could have cut steel. His hair was the most beautiful shade of chestnut brown, his stature tall and lean, posture exuding confidence and grace. His smile was dazzlingly white and so very comforting as he ever so gently guided you towards him.

“Escorting the young lady to a room where she might see to her daughter. I will join you momentarily for the…conclusion, of the tour.” He seemed to choose his words carefully and despite how much more on edge that made you, you still stepped into him with a nod. Your eyes were drawn back to your tour guide again, unable to stray too long as her gaze turned somewhat dangerous.

“The child will be cared for as always.” Her voice was like wind chimes and you unknowingly leaned closer to hear it. The man, Demetri, immediately pulled you back and began to lead you down the hall.

“Indeed, by her mother.” He spoke as though she was still stood right beside him, yet you were sure she shouldn’t have heard anything given she was already four steps behind you both. His pace was quick, only slowing when he realised you were struggling to keep up. You could see the way his jaw clenched as Lyra screamed and you tried to shush her again, swallowing past the lump in your throat as your clawed fingers held tight to your baby.

“Where are we going? Surely there’s a bathroom or something near-“

“Somewhere we will not be disturbed, can you soothe her?” he asked, looking at your daughter with a grimace. You stumbled over your own feet a little.

“I – I’m trying.” Your stammered. He gave a terse little nod, eyes flitting about as he led you down a maze of corridors. By the time you emerged at the top of a flight of stairs you had no clue what way was up and what way was down. Perhaps that was what he had intended. Demetri quickly pushed his way past a heavy looking door made of dark, expensive looking wood; surprise flooded you, and it melted into horror as quickly as it came. A bed, you were looking at an extravagant, four poster bed, a room with a desk and a bookcase and a fireplace. This was a bedroom. Why would he bring you to a bedroom? Was it his? You shouldn’t have followed him. Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined all the horrible ways this once nice trip could turn out, and when Demetri caught sight of them he quickly shut the door with the most pained expression you’d ever seen on a man.

“I mean you no harm, truly, but there are things I am not at liberty to explain right now that you cannot conceive of. Use whatever you require from my bathroom to tend to your daughter but do not leave this room. I beg of you.” The urgency in his voice shook you to the core and your tears spiled over. His room? Why was it so imperative you not leave? What was wrong with this place that it was so dangerous to you you couldn’t leave this strange man’s room? His finger was as cold as marble and just as hard when he wiped the wetness from beneath your eye. You recoiled with a soft whimper.

“Please, just let me-“

“Stay, here. Please tesoro…Per il mio bene.” His finger delicately trailed your jawline before he was gone, the door closed behind him. It was like you had blinked and missed him. Lyra was quieting a little in your arms, though still crying she seemingly had run out of energy, not bawling anymore. You slowly sank to your knees, fresh tears springing to your eyes. You had doomed you both. What kind of irresponsible mother followed a strange man to his bedroom? Rocking back and forth, you shakily stroked the soft tufts of hair on her head, trembling and praying to a God you hadn’t really believed in before now that somehow, you would be okay.

With a quiet sniffle, you wiped your eyes hastily with your hand. Your daughter needed you to be strong right now, so even as you crumbled inside you pushed to your feet and paced towards the large bed, setting the pillows up in such a way Lyra would be securely confined away from the edges of the mattress. With quick, practiced movements, you cleaned her face with a baby wipe and changed her pretty little dress into a loose top and shorts combo, one you had packed for occasions just like this. Lyra wriggled, not enjoying the changing procedure and reaching for you. Maybe she was just as perturbed by the situation to, wanting your embrace, your comfort.

“It’s okay, we’re going to be okay, we’ll be alright baby.” You whispered shakily. You could make no such promise. Time seemed to drag by slowly, seconds feeling like eternity dripping by through the thin neck of an hourglass. Lyra had calmed after a few minutes of you rubbing her tummy, now enjoying the feel of the soft sheets maybe and being in fresh clothes, and her big eyes watched you as you paced beside the bed. It took a long time for you to pause, your mind coming to the shocking and horrific realisation that just because this Demetri fellow had told you not to leave, it didn’t mean you couldn’t.

Dashing to the door, you pushed down on the handle. Relief swept through you when it went all the way, the door clicking open, and with a soft gasp you raced back to the bed to collect your daughter. Her bag was of little consequence, though your purse and phone were so you pocketed these as you picked her up, cursing your old school phone and it’s poor battery life. With Lyra swaddled to your chest again in her shawl, lips smacking and a serious little frown on her face, you turned back towards the door only to find it closing behind the one man you didn’t want to see.

Your heart sank.

“You stayed.” He sounded surprised.

I didn’t mean to you thought hopelessly. Shaky hands came up to hold your baby girl again, Lyra sensing your obvious anxiety and beginning to shift again restlessly. She tried to turn her head, find the source of the noise, but you wouldn’t let her. Whatever he was about to do to her, you silently vowed your daughter wouldn’t see. You would suffer in silence, your lips pressed together in a firm line and your will caging your voice if only so Lyra wouldn’t suffer with you. Demetri held his hands up in front of him but the gesture was meaningless and empty – his eyes were now a vivid ruby red. The brightness of his irises frightened you. Deep down, you doubted he had simply gotten his irises retattooed in the time since he’d separated from you.

“I did, I did everything you asked, now please let us go.” You tried to keep your voice steady but the slightest warble gave away your fear. Demetri’s expression twisted into regret, an ugly expression his godly face somehow made it impossible to look away from, like you were the one who needed to comfort him, as though he was the one suffering and you weren’t.  

“Next time you ask me something please, try to make it something it is within my power to do.” He said softly. Tears welled in your eyes, one spilling down your cheek.

“Okay,” you swallowed, “Then whatever you can do, are going to do, please don’t make my daughter watch. She’s so young, please-“you choked, cutting yourself off with a sharp inhale as you tried desperately to hold in the sob building in your throat. Lyra let out a noise of discontent and you immediately loosened your grip. Demetri shook his head.

“Nothing is going to happen to you tesoro. My oath was true, I mean you no harm,” he promised, pausing slightly as his eyes flitted to Lyra, “Neither of you…how old is she?” his question caught you off-guard. It was such a mundane thing to ask, given he’d more or less kidnapped you from a tour group to steal you away to his bedroom it seemed out of place almost in the conversation. You swallowed.

“That’s of no concern to you!” you snapped, turning to shield Lyra from his view some. He winced slightly, stepping closer to you.

“Will you let me explain?” he questioned, “The things I wish to tell you, need you to know, are not easy to digest, but perhaps if you know them you might yet change your opinion of me.” He ventured. His voice was casual, as though he was discussing the weather with you and was not trying to beguile you into trusting him. In truth, part of you already did, and that part had made you lean towards him ever so slightly, your ears so focused on the sound of his voice your eyes hadn’t noticed how close he was until he was mere feet away. You backed up immediately, scolding yourself for being distracted by the honeyed words of a pretty man; last time that had happened you had ended up pregnant in your childhood bedroom while your parents lectured you about condoms for three hours.

“And why would my opinion matter to you?” you demanded, cringing when your back hit stone. A window to your right gave you a beautiful view of a garden, a garden with high walls and vibrant flowers and…a disco ball? No…no wait that was…a man? You were sure the outline of a man was quite literally glowing in the sunlight, his skin reflecting the warm rays and turning them into the most beautiful diamonds that scattered along the wall he stood by. As if he sensed your eyes the bulky figure turned his head, and though his features were too far away for you to make them out you were certain he was looking at you.

“There are things in this world you dismiss as fictious but should know are very much real, tesoro.” Demetri’s voice was soft by your ear and you jumped violently, whirling around to face him. His skin did the very same thing. He stood before you, an Adonis carved straight from marble that shone bright in pure light, his room lit up by rainbows that bounced off of the prism of his skin. You reached your hand out without thinking, pure instinct driving you to both fear and question this beautiful man. When your thumb came back glitter free, your stomach churned in silent horror. There was no make up, no illusion of any sort you could see or imagine, so how was it possible he could literally shine?

“What are you?” you whispered. Demetri’s eyes never left yours, his gaze soft and somewhat sad, as if he already knew you wouldn’t like the answer.

“Vampire.” His reply was simple, yet it set off a chain reaction in your head. Every instinct that had screamed at you to run before was now screaming that it had been right and you should run again, but your rational mind scoffed and forced those feelings down even as you tried to put more distance between you both. Vampires weren’t real, and so far he had kept true to his word. Demetri had yet to hurt you, though he seemed plenty ready to lie to your face.

“They aren’t real.” You denied.

“Because my coven made you believe so,” Demetri countered, following you with slow, cautious steps, “Look at me. What man do you know of that has skin like mine? What man has these eyes? Your body knows Tesoro, it’s been telling you all along that I am wrong, has tried warning you that there are differences between us your brain cannot put a name to.”

“Stay away from us!” you warned. He froze in place, letting you put as much distance as you could between you both. With your back to the wall you stared him down, afraid to move for fear he would to. Within a blink he was in front of you, and you were falling to your knees, like he had almost anticipated your obvious collapsed. With the way your knees were knocking together it shouldn’t have been surprising really. He had moved so fast and with such startling efficiency you were left completely in awe of the smooth series of actions that led him to catch not only you, but Lyra as well. She squealed in delight, the first time you’d ever heard her make such a noise, while you could only stare with wide eyes at the man who had yet to take his arm from around your waist. He was busy watching Lyra with his own wide eyes.

“Take her,” he whispered, giving you a little nudge to get you upright, “Take her now, please, before I drop her!” he insisted. You hurriedly made a cradle and accepted your daughter back into your embrace, somewhat spellbound. Demetri had moved faster than any human could, had horrifically red eyes and skin that literally glowed…yet a baby had undone him? There was literal panic written all over his face the minute his arm had curled around your daughter and he looked quite relieved you had her now. You could only stare at him as he carefully guided you back towards the bed. Once Lyra was settled back between the pillows again you sat and listened to every tale he wished to tell you, your mind spinning.

He spoke of where he had come from and how he came to be, your mind reeling as he told you of a far off, sunny land where the Gods had ruled his life before he was given life anew. He spoke of Aro and Marcus and Caius, and the war with Romanians that had ended the slavery of your kind and sparked the dawn of an era of secrecy. He chuckled as you tentatively listed off myth after myth, taking great delight in your obvious amusement that he had been the one to circulate the rumour vampires were weakened by garlic simply because he didn’t like the way it smelled. As impossible as it all seemed, you believed him. Demetri had maintained a respectable distance from you at all times, looking more relaxed and at ease the longer you spoke. Not a toe out of line.

The cadence of his voice had lulled Lyra to sleep, your own nerves soothed by the rhythmic rise and fall as he told his stories with the kind of expertise only extensive practice could bring. The wonder couldn’t last however, not when you remembered there were other people beyond the door to his room.

“Our tour guide…” you trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. Demetri looked regretful.

“Less a tour guide and more a fisherwoman. Heidi is like me, as is the man who dared try to confront you in the corridor.” His eyes narrowed a bit, the memory clearly unpleasant to him. You swallowed, your heart skittering in your chest.

“A fisherwoman?” you questioned, your voice weak. Demetri observed you carefully, looking reluctant to speak now. You were by no means stupid; you had a fairly good idea what he had meant but you wanted to hear him say it. He seemed impossibly perfect and as silly as it sounded, hearing him admitting to this one great flaw might actually soothe some of your own insecurities you were struggling with by just being near him. You were still losing a baby fat after all and the stretch marks…well your skin was not as unblemished as his.

“I think you know.” He said finally. You exhaled in a rush, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“She’s not even a year old,” you whispered, “My daughter isn’t even a year old, and you were going to…she brought us here to…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, squeezing your eyes closed as you thought of the rest of the people in your tour group and the fate they must have endured. There was an elderly couple, Americans you thought, talking of how their history loving granddaughter would adore the pictures they were taking about the place. A young couple of Indian origin you guessed who were speaking their native tongue as they walked arm in arm, their gazes adoring as they stared at each other, a honeymoon couple perhaps whispering sweet nothings and fantasising about the life they were embarking on together.

“We would not have laid a hand on her,” Demetri swore, his voice somewhat cross, “We are not monsters, tesoro. Your child would have been taken to the authorities and given a good home.”

“Without me. You would have killed me and let my daughter grow up, without me.” Your voice was rising in pitch now and you pushed to your feet as the hysteria began to rise once more. Demetri shook his head.

“I would have done no such thing!” he snapped, losing his temper with you for the first time since you’d met. You took a hesitant step backward, afraid now you knew what he could really do but reluctant to leave him so near Lyra. Lyra…so small and vulnerable and still utterly asleep. He took a breath, running a hand through his hair.

“Why not? Why would you save us?” you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Your tour group had met a grisly end so why hadn’t you? Why had you been spared this fate? Why did he favour you? Demetri looked saddened again, his entire expression crestfallen, like a puppy who’d been scolded for being too close to the Christmas tree.

“I had hoped you would feel it, that you would know, at least on some superficial level.” He seemed to be speaking to himself, distracted by watching Lyra’s chest rise and fall as her mouth moved, eyelids fluttering. It was your favourite expression on her, the one she wore when she dreamed. For a moment Demetri looked wistful, as though he was watching something he desperately wanted but was out of his reach from a distance too great to cross.

“Feel what?” you groaned, your exasperation now obvious. It was difficult to be afraid now he’d told you everything. It didn’t make sense for him to spare you just to kill you now, especially not now he’d divulged what you guessed was a great secret to you. What exactly did he expect you to feel that you hadn’t already? The whole afternoon had been a roller coaster that left you thoroughly exhausted; fear, anxiety, awe, disbelief, scepticism and more had all been prevalent in your heart today and you weren’t sure how much more it could take.

“The mate pull,” Demetri said finally, tearing his eyes away from Lyra to look up at you, “My kind, we feel so much more deeply than humans do. Some people appeal to us so much it sets a bond. Fate has a hand to play in this to of course, making a pair so compatible that neither can deny the other was made for them.” You stomach dropped, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. Without thinking your hand whipped up to slap him, your hand almost breaking on impact with his cheek. His head barely moved, though he did blink a bit in shock, something you had yet to see him do despite the time you spent together. The sharp sound woke Lyra up and she let out an abrupt, piercing cry, startled and upset while you hopped up to shake your hand out with a curse.

Demetri looked absolutely flabbergasted, his head turning between you and your daughter as if trying to figure out which one of you to approach first. His hand reached for Lyra, his lips protruding in the perfect pout as he tried to shush her.

“Keep your hands off of her you pervert!” you cried, hurrying forward to scoop her up and taking a few steps back from him. There was no fear anymore, just pure rage. It boiled in your veins and curdled in your stomach, the intense disgust you felt towards him unparalleled by anything else.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me! I don’t care what you are or what your world’s rules are but in mine, you keep your ancient ass hands off of my infant daughter!” you warned. Demetri paused, his eyes widening slightly before he recoiled from you with an obvious shudder.

“You think I – no! Gods no tesoro! Your daughter is not – I do not – it was you! I meant you!” he hurried to amend himself as your glare grew more vicious, and the simple confession made your mind fritz. There was nothing for a moment, a blissful few seconds of pure silence in your head, no frantic thoughts or feelings, just pure nothingness as you tried to comprehend what this gorgeous stranger was telling you.

“You…what?”

“I meant you, tesoro. The moment I laid eyes on you I was sure…do you truly not feel it?” Demetri asked, hesitantly stepping closer. You let him this time, swallowing thickly.

“What should I be feeling? Beyond confusion, there’s…there’s a lot of confusion.” You mumbled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His lips pulled into the slightest smile, but it quickly disappeared when Lyra let out another piercing cry. Neither of you had seen to her yet and you quickly set to work making sure she could see and hear you as you rocked her, patting her bottom as you swayed side to side. As she began to quieten down once more, looking confused and tired and grumpy with you for the long day you had turned out to be having, Demetri very hesitantly moved closer to you both again.

“Perhaps you feel curiosity, a desire to know me better. You may feel something when I am close to you, that tries to keep you near to me. There are many things you might feel, I could not possibly guess all of them as we all react differently to the mate pull, but I know I feel it quite acutely when I look at you.” He confessed freely, his eyes fixed on Lyra’s head. He lifted his hand, pausing to look at you for permission as his fingers neared her head. You glanced between them, finding Lyra looking at him with big eyes, no doubt confused as to why his eyes were a vivid shade of red while yours were a bright Y/E/C. If Demetri had proven anything to you so far it was that he really meant to uphold his oath, he wasn’t going to hurt either of you.

When you nodded, he ever so gently began to stroke her hair like he was touching the most precious and delicate of diamonds. Maybe it was this so-called mate pull, maybe it wasn’t, but your heart almost burst in that moment as you watched him share such a tender moment with Lyra, a moment her own father couldn’t even be bothered with. He looked absolutely enraptured with her, murmuring soft things in Italian you couldn’t hope to understand with the faintest wisp of a smile.

“Would you like to hold her?” you asked. The thought had escaped your mouth before you could fully process it and it made Demetri pause, his expression twisting quickly into concern.

“I better not, I fear I might hurt her.” he frowned. Lyra’s lips smacked, a slight huff escaping her – she clearly didn’t enjoy not holding his attention.

“I think she might hurt you if you don’t. It’s easy, I’ll show you.” You encouraged. Demetri was still shaking his head when you expertly jostled your daughter in one crooked arm and used the other to start moving his.

“Tesoro I think that I shouldn’t-“

“So long as you remember to support her head it’ll be okay, she’s only two months old, the support is key for her right now.” You explained, already handing him Lyra. There was no hesitation there, not anymore, you knew he wouldn’t hurt either of you. Demetri let out a small, panicked huff as he tried to settle his arms somewhat, relax into letting Lyra fit there. She looked thoroughly perplexed for a moment as he did his best to adjust his grip, head turning to you as if to say ‘what’s with this amateur Mom?’ before she lifted a tiny hand to place it against his chest, snuggling down into the cradle of his arm.

“Is this okay?” he asked. You nodded, unable to fight back your smile. He was adorably flustered, something you were surprised the suave vampire could be. All wide-eyed with awe you had to wonder if this was the first time he’d ever held a baby before. He stood still as stone, afraid to jostle her it seemed as they had an intense stare off. Lyra was the first to break it, a wide yawn splitting her face as her blinks grew longer. You watched her fall right asleep in his arms, slowly perching yourself on the edge of his bed to contemplate everything this meant. Demetri was a vampire, something out of your wildest imaginings, maybe a nightmare even. He had been going to feed on your tour group, on . He had been going to feed on your tour group, on you, but some supposed bond between you had made him save your life instead. Now, he held your daughter like she was precious gold in his hands, whispering sweet nothings to her in a language you couldn’t understand with eyes as doting as any father’s should be.

Did he already see himself that way? The thought made you mildly uncomfortable. He had a lot to prove to you before you’d even consider giving him the title of boyfriend, never mind father. It clicked suddenly, the realisation that your heart had already decided and was waiting for your brain too catch up. Demetri had captured your attention in more ways than one and his world sounded…fascinating.

“What if you stop feeling this pull? Are we in danger then?” you asked finally. Demetri seemed to struggle to tear his eyes from Lyra for a moment, but when his eyes met your’s they were flooded with sincerity.

“Vampires mate for life tesoro…even if I wished to fall for another in the midst of an argument perhaps, I physically no longer have the capacity to. It is you and only you who was made for me.” He vowed, moving at a snail’s pace to carefully sit himself beside you.

“We’re a bit of a package deal.” You pointed out. Demetri nodded.

“It was not expected, that I might find my mate with a child, but I confess I find myself in awe of her. Two months, did you say?” he questioned, glancing briefly at you. You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah two months old.”

“So she will not stay this small for much longer?” he sounded almost sad and you giggled slightly.

“Believe me, the sooner she sleeps through the better.” You lifted your hand to gently run a fingertip down her cheek.

“If you stayed I have no need for sleep, I could see to her in the night with some guidance, but I know I cannot ask that of you.” He sighed. You swallowed, the nerves fluttering in your gut. He was already asking you to move in with him? You wanted to see a red flag but you couldn’t. Demetri clearly wanted to look after you both. Why shouldn’t you let him?

“My parents would go mad.” You agreed hesitantly. Demetri chuckled.

“I shall have to win them over then. A child complicates matters, buys us more time to figure out exactly how we might proceed. She is a blessing, tesoro.” He promised you. Your brows pulled low together.

“What does Tesoro mean?” you asked.

“Ah, it means darling…I may have neglected to get your name.” he admitted bashfully. Your eyes widened, mind replaying all the time you’d spent with him that afternoon. He wasn’t wrong, you hadn’t introduced yourself once.  

“It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N. That there, is little miss Lyra.” You told him. Demetri sighed.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful pair…her father must be missing her, no?” he was clearly hesitant to ask and you didn’t blame him. You couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to just…walk into someone’s life, knowing they were made for you and find they already had a child that wasn’t yours. Come to think of it could vampires even have children? You had so much to learn…

“He left the minute he found out I was pregnant…you’ve spent more time with her than he ever has.” You informed him, the bitterness in your voice obvious. Demetri looked upset by that but you didn’t question or comment on it. With slow, careful movements, he gently began to rock her. You doubted he would relinquish her to your grasp anytime soon.

“He is a fool…but I’m not.” He whispered. You smiled slightly, a strange warmth filling your gut. Who’d have thought you’d find your very own Prince Charming while touring a castle?

[carminite-wyrm]

Its an Empires SMP + Wynncraft crossover AU I guess

So, I’ve been playing a lot of Wynncraft recently, and man, the Wynncraft lore sure is wild. Halfway through doing a quest I suddenly remembered that hey, nether corruption sure is a thing over here, and isn’t there Also an invading corruption storyline going on over in Empires?

Anyways so here I am with yet another niche AU idea lmao (though also with the latest videos from Pix and Gem I...kind of already am thinking of a variant on this one lmao)

- Some indeterminable point in time in the future, the Empires gang are having the final fight against Xornoth, ready to take out the demon and cleanse their world of the corruption that had been taking hold of their kingdoms.

- Its down to the final few blows, with the Kings and Queens coming together, despite their grievances with one another, despite all the differences that had once been between them, to finally strike down the demon.

- Naturally, of course, it goes a little sideways.

- The final blow lands, and the hellish arena disappears in a flash of unholy light.

- When the heroes awaken, they find themselves in a spider-infested patch of woodland.

- Upon fighting/running their way out, they quickly realise that yeah, this sure isn’t the Empires SMP anymore.

- There are some shenanigans, probably, upon that realisation, but eventually, the group makes their way to the nearby city of Detlas, severely disconcerted by the clear presence of corruption in the land around them.

- They’re fairly certain that they saved their own land, only to land right in another world also beset by corruption.

- Their various communicators also seem to be displaying a different HUD from what they’re used to, including an actual mana bar along with their health, and more equipment slots and most baffling of all: the option to level up and increase a variety of skills.

- Also, there’s magic, though a different magic than what they’re used to

Added to that, the monsters are far more different to what they’ve encountered in their home world. Zombies, fairly standard, even if the ones in this strange land seem somehow more powerful than theirs. Spiders, easy. And then Joey stumbles across a flaming horse rocketing straight at him at roughly 40kmph, screeching demonically all the while. It narrowly misses pummelling him in the face with its hooves and oh, looks like this isn’t a standard world after all.

Character classes and more thoughts under the cut!

Character classes! (Wynncraft currently has 5 classes people can choose from!)

Warriors (uses polearms/hammers, generally the dps/tank build)

Scott – He has a pink battleaxe, yes of course he’s the heavy-weapon-using class. Also, bc I think it’d be really amusing to see this elf dude w/ an antler crown charging straight at someone with a massive axe/hammer/polearm.

Fwhip – King of the Grimlands, projecting an image of strength even as the corruption ran rampant and clashed with the inherent darkness of his own kingdom.

Lizzie – Ocean Queen w/ a Trident, enough said. Sure, there might not be any axolotls in this world for some reason, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have the powers that made her one of the most powerful Empires back home. Probably mains thunder elemental magic, bc sending chain lightning at enemies is very cool.

Mages (Magic staff goes brr. Also they can heal)

Gem! – I imagine she’d be highly adept at hitting enemies with the regular attack spell, and then suddenly casting a meteor and crystalline ice to obliterate her foes as the rest of the party watches on.

Katherine – Teleporting + fast attacks = magic menace. Also bc I think it’d look cool for her, and honestly that’s the majority of my decision-making here w/ the class selections

Pixl – Idk, something about the vigil and the whole candle thing makes me think he’d make a pretty damn good healer. Calm, collected, and the most unshakeable amongst the chaos of the Empires gang. (This AU idea was written like, a week before the latest video lmao so we're just gonna...gloss over the most recent plot developments for a bit until I can figure out how to make it make sense in the AU)

Assassins (Stabby stabby DPS)

Joel – Look I just think the imagery of Joel + Lizzie absolutely wrecking shit together on a battlefield is too good to pass up on.

Sausage – Man literally ran an assassin guild back in their home world, of course he’s an assassin here in this one. Probably has several sets of daggers hidden up his sleeves, and probably ends up with a life steal build.

Pearl – Pearl with knives would be terrifying and amazing to behold. On the other hand, I was considering either Mage or Shaman but we already have like three Mages, and I don't really have any ideas for how Pearl would utilise the Shaman abilities atm.

Archers (Ranged DPS or support)

Jimmy! – Swamp boi deserves to pop off and what better way than to be able to cause arrows to rain from the sky. And also to backflip out of danger. I imagine navigating a swamp has given him an actual dexterity or agility score.

Shaman (Buffs + support)

Shubble – Honestly I think she’d really vibe with the nature-y vibes this class kind of gives me, what with her mushroom kingdom vibes and the magic. Also, one of the most complex classes, but considering Shubble and her whole researching the corruption thing, I think it’d fit.

Joey – I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know much about his POV beyond ‘wants to court the demon’ at the moment, so contributions welcome here.

- Gem and Shubble’s initial investigations (because they absolutely hit the first library or archive they could find) whilst the others explored/adventured around the area eventually lead them to determining that in order to return to their own world, they’ll have to make their way to the most dangerous region of the Wynn region: The Silent Expanse.

Defeating whatever entity is chilling deep in that eldritch hellzone that’s pinging off Gem and Shubble’s (w/ machinery assistance from Pixl) cobbled-together ‘machine for detecting their world’s own magic’ should be enough to trigger the same event that sent them to this world. They think. Its enough for them all to hope, at any rate.

- Its an odd feeling, being at the height of their powers only to be thrust into a world where a tap from an armoured skeleton can take them down to a third of their health in one hit, at their current ability level.

- The party starts off at roughly level 5-7 btw, because I’ve had to do the tutorial quest and Enzan’s Brother quest like six times and I want to skip that here thanks.

- Eventually, the group does have to split into smaller parties for efficiency, though they’re understandably hesitant to be separate from everyone else in an unfamiliar world.

- Obviously, the parties do shuffle around a bit depending on what quests they end up undertaking, to play for each of their strengths and to cover for their weaknesses.

- Because they’re the Kings and Queens of the Empires SMP, they climb up the levels fairly rapidly, racing through quests in Ragni, Detlas, Nemract, Almuj, before finally venturing across the ocean to the province of Gavel.

- They’re well aware that something rather bad is going on in this world, something that looks and feels so similar to the corruption back home, but yet not.

- Their first encounter with the Parasites in the Dark Forest has those more in tune with the currents of magic, or the natural world, recoiling from the feeling of ‘wrong wrong that should not be in this world-‘

After that harrowing encounter, they are very, very glad, that in their world, the source of the corruption was clearly from a pesky demon, and not the result of warring planar powers.

One would think that, as the resident swamp dweller of their motley group, Jimmy would have been a tad more relaxed in the Olux Swamp. And yet, the magic from his Empire has him on edge throughout their travels in that area, the lingering sense of foreign magic, of what the locals refer to as the Decay, worrying away at the familiar scent of the swamp.

[nct-oli]

I also miss atots! I wanna read your ramblings so may I ask what are some of your head canon for phutian whether it’s during the series or post-series.

HI!! You’re so sweet. I am so sorry that I haven’t responded to this sooner! Life got really hectic, and it honestly kind of stole my creativity, to the point where I read this back when you sent it, but I could not think of a single headcanon at all.

But I’m here and I’m going to finally talk about some because I rewatched ATOTS with a friend and it sparked some headcanons in the process!!

1) This is probably my biggest headcanon. Phupha and Tian wrote emails to each other during their two years apart. I’ve seen some people say letters, and of course letters are super cute and classically romantic. Plus they are fitting given that’s how Tian was communicating with Phupha when he returned to Bangkok. But the reasons I like emails for them are:

Getting letters domestically to a rural village is one thing, but getting them internationally without some of them getting lost feels a bit less likely. And I think Tian and Phupha would know that. So emails are a more consistent and reliable form of communication.

Obviously Phupha can’t access the internet from the village, but you know who does have internet? Dr. Nam. I very much love the idea of Phupha strolling into the clinic every so often trying to be all cool and not at all giddy to check for a new email from Tian, and Dr. Nam never, ever letting him use the computer without a lot of proud best friend teasing. Remember when Phupha went to Dr. Nam to ask what a scar on the chest would mean? Yes, just like that, except regularly. (And when Phupha doesn’t go to Dr. Nam’s clinic, he could go to town to check his email too.)

This part doesn’t really fit the canon storyline at all given Phupha was still gazing at the only photo he had taken of Tian two whole years after taking it and also Phupha never told the children where Tian was. BUT think of the photos they could send each other. Tian sending photos of himself in various places in the US, his hand with Phupha’s ring always visible so Phupha can be there with him for every adventure. Phupha sending photos of the kids as they grow, the tea sachet business (or whatever the villagers end up doing with Mr. Sakda gone), the very rare selfie by a rather self-conscious chief... sending physical letters limits the number of printed photos they could send each other. Plus printing photos may be a bit easier for Tian, given he can just print them at a nearby Walgreens or something, or even have them ordered online. But that would be tougher for Phupha, needing to leave the village and find somewhere. So emailing photos back and forth would be easier.

Imagine Tian printing every email sent back and forth and collecting them. Imagine him in the library with the biggest smile on his face, printing out emails to and from his mountain boyfriend back in Thailand and his university friends watching him with the most confused but intrigued eyes. I love it. I love that idea.

I remember there being discussion post-finale about whether Tian and Phupha communicated in that time at all. The discussion revolves especially around how at ease they seemed in their Pha Pun Dao cliff reunion and they didn’t quite act as though they had been fully apart for two whole years. And I fullheartedly believe they had contact, even if very infrequent. I think they found a way. And while I do think letters are incredibly romantic and fitting, I just have this fondness to emails. Maybe it’s a result of watching We Best Love recently. I’m not sure.

2) Tian chose to go to the US ultimately on his own. Now, we all know his mother is the one who picked the university for him and “sent him away.” But I do like the idea that, after coming to terms with the fact that maybe running away to Pha Pun Dao immediately wasn’t the best plan, especially if Phupha wanted to forget him, he grew to like the idea of going abroad. It would be his chance to have probably as much freedom as he could get. He wanted to go to the US before he died (episode 3 conversation with Tul). He could take time to himself, without the influence of anyone else, and figure out just what he wanted for his life. And when Phupha showed up at the airport and they got their true feelings out in the open, Tian didn’t feel like his family was pushing him away from the man he loved and the life he wanted; he felt that he had agency in choosing the US and asking Phupha to wait for him, to give him the chance to figure out this new chapter first. I find comfort believing Tian didn’t board that plane feeling resentful but instead feeling hopeful. And when he returned, he wasn’t filled with regrets. He was filled with excitement that he was returning home to Pha Pun Dao and Phupha right on time. (Plus Phupha had more confidence when Tian returned to him that he truly wanted to be there in the village with him, because despite literally traveling the world and seeing so many options available to him for places to build his future, Tian still chose Pha Pun Dao.)

3) The teacher’s house remains Tian’s home too. Hear me out: I don’t mean full time. I’m obviously a massive softie for domestic PhuTian, so I want him to still stay with Phupha. And Phupha probably can’t leave the base permanently, as he’s the chief and needs to be there regularly for his rangers, so the two of them can’t move into the teacher’s house fully either. But Phupha’s room is quite small. I love the idea that Tian still escapes sometimes out to the teacher’s house where it’s quiet and he can still have his own space. A space to lesson plan, to take the students when they need a new environment, to feel connected to his three original months in the village when he fell in love with the people and his person (Phupha). That house was his home, and while Phupha’s place is now also his home, I like the idea that Tian still keeps that house for himself too. At least so long as it isn’t needed by anyone else. (Also, if Phupha and Tian need space, well, there’s no Yod out there to start knocking.)

4) This semi-connects to the last one. When Tian and Phupha finally get married, they have a ceremony in the village and Tian convinces Tul to stay a night in Pha Pun Dao. His parents come to the wedding too, but they stay in a hotel in the city, where Tul stays some nights except for the night Tian gets him to stay with him. Tian and Tul stay in the teacher’s house, and Tian tells him all about his many nights sleeping there. Tul is, well, not convinced of its appeal at first, but watching Tian share his stories with the brightest smile, he decides he can warm up to it a little bit. And after seeing Tian with Phupha, with the kids, and with the rest of the village, and finally understanding how perfectly Tian fits in Pha Pun Dao, it starts to make sense to him why some of the luxuries don’t matter to Tian anymore... will Tul himself ever move to a rural village like that? Absolutely not. He’s not convinced that much. But the joy that village life brings his best friend and the glow he exhibits is enough to leave Tul content for one night on a hard mattress inside a mosquito net in the middle of seemingly nowhere. (No but really, imagine the chaos of Tul trying to live in Pha Pun Dao for a night. I want to watch that so much.)

5) Okay, I hope the couple that got married have a child and that child goes to school under Tian’s teaching. Or someone else in the village has a child. Imagine Tian getting a new student and having to navigate a classroom with early teenagers and a tiny kid. (Headcanon within a headcanon: Tian did a LOT of research during his two years abroad specifically on multi-aged classrooms because he knew he wanted to return to Pha Pun Dao one day and would need the skills.)

6) Longtae and Tian most definitely go on that trip across the border that Longtae wanted (just a couple years late). And they have the best time. Longtae tells Tian about any new stories from university. Tian shares stories about his students and tries not to talk about Phupha too much but occasionally can’t help it, to which Longtae smiles brightly like the cute bestie he is. And the two of them get the CUTEST photos that Longtae prints for Tian immediately when he gets back to the city.

All of these headcanons are for those two years away or after he returns. I��m trying to think of some headcanons for the show prior to ep 10 part 4/4...

6) OH this doesn’t necessarily have to be before ep 10 part 4/4 in the timeline, but Phupha and the rangers apologize to Tian and the villagers for not telling them about Torfun’s death sooner and that burden being left for Tian to carry instead. I just want that settled.

7) HERE’S ONE FOR WITHIN THE SERIES TIMELINE. At the wedding in episode 4, Phupha didn’t deny it when Dr. Nam called Tian Phupha’s guy. So yes, of course Dr. Nam started calling Tian that all of the time, to which Phupha did eventually argue against but he secretly liked hearing it. His guy.

8) I’m back to going outside of the timeline again... all of my headcanons are for after the series it seems. Oops. But Tian most definitely brought the kite to Pha Pun Dao with him, and it hangs very proudly on the wall in their room. Tian tells Phupha about how he had it flying back at his family house in Bangkok, how seeing it blow in the wind brought him comfort when he felt homesick for the village and for Phupha. That knowledge had Phupha smiling for the rest of the week.

I’m running out of ideas. I kind of wanted to hit ten, but I just don’t have ten headcanons off the top of my head. BUT if I think of anymore, I’m sure I’ll post about them somewhere. Maybe I’ll even write a ficlet about some of these... I used to write those here and there, way back when... we’ll see.

Thank you again for your message, anon! You are a wonderful human. I’m sorry for taking so long to respond, but I didn’t forget about your message or ignore it. I just couldn’t get my brain to give me anything to respond with! I hope my rambling was sufficient for you. <3

(Also man, I miss writing about ATOTS so ridiculously much. This felt so familiar and also kind of sad. Phupha, Tian, villagers... come back to us. I miss you.)

[the-knights-who-say-book]

Of a Witch, a Gossip, and a Library

The library on the corner of Oak and Vine was an accident. The crown didn’t bother opening libraries this far out west, so far from any of the major cities—so far that the townspeople joked to each other the king might someday forget to send his tax collectors out there, too. So Feldwidth had never had a library before.

When the local witch died a few years back, nobody quite knew what to do with her narrow corner cottage, with its living space upstairs and walls lined with shelves of witchcraft ingrediants on the single ground floor room. The witch hadn’t any children or relatives to continue living there, and nobody else claimed the space in the months after her death. The downstairs room, shelves on all four walls (even on the inside of the door!), just didn’t invite new inhabitants. No one in Feldwidth, except for the general store owner on Main, practiced a trade which required so many shelves, and no one wanted the tedious task of taking them all down.

It was Margorette Clay, who lived just outside the village and came in once a week supposedly to sell produce but mostly just to gossip, who said they ought to get themselves another witch.

“Not like you find them growing in a road ditch,” Jame Clott said irritably, because Margo was leaning against his fence. As far as he was concerned, no one who hadn’t painted that fence themselves were allowed to lean on it.

“Suppose not. Guess that’s only where you find Clotts,” Margo said, and ducked the dirty sheet that Jame had been beating out on the stone path and was about to beat out on her head. Cawing her distinctive laughter, she ran down the street, apron full of apples jostling and jumping with her loping stride.

Jame leaned over his fence to yell after her, “And they find Clays on the streets after it rains, too dumb to get back into the dirt!”

Margo’s laughter drew Catty Loose to the open doorway of her house as sure as if she’d had a ringing bell to announce new gossip. “What’s got Jame worked up?”

“Cause I said you ought to get yourselves a new witch,” Margo said, barely half-truthful as usual. “Buy an apple? They’re almost as blushing pretty as your kitling.”

Catty’s smallest daughter went red and buried herself deeper in her mother’s skirts.

Another kid, barely older, leaned against Margo’s leg and pulled her hand, nearly spilling all the apples from the apron she was holding up. “Why nother witch? What for?”

“Ah, every place ought to have one,” Margo said vaguely. “It’s the way of things. One apple for each of your kitlings, Catty, and I’ll throw two in free.”

————————

“Margo’s right,” Catty Loose said after temple that Saturday, as the townspeople gathered in the yard to mingle and eat, her arms full of children and another two playing at her feet.

With preternatural hearing, Jame Clott turned from speaking with his husband Willem across the yard to say loudly, “Margorette Clay has never been right once in her life.”

Catty ignored him. “We ought to get a new witch. Sooner or later we’ll want one.”

“That’s crap,” Jame said, coming into the circle that surrounded Catty, which seemed to be half made up of her own children. “What’ll we want a witch for? No one’s been cursed in ages.”

“Aida Macintosh,” someone put in.

“Aida Macintosh ate the red berries by the stream. That’s not a curse so much as a punishment for stupidity.”

No one could really disagree.

“Need one for love shpells,” a tiny Loose kitling named Alfed suggested.

Jame crouched down, his face softening, to look into his small, earnest face. “Love spells are a gross affront against consent and should have been outlawed years ago,” he said gently.

Little Alfed Loose sneezed in his face.

“For getting a baby when you can’t make one yourself,” Mendy Hark said, one hand squeezing her daughter’s shoulder protectively.

Jame, wiping his face, didn’t say anything.

————————

“So how’s one get a witch anyway?” Lukey Keening asked, continuing the conversation from several days ago without preamble, as he tended to do. He and his overly long teenage limbs were sprawled in the grass of the meadow where the families of Oak street gathered once a week for a community meal, conspicuously not helping.

The eldest Loose girl, siblings hoisted on either hip, made a thoughtful sound. “You don’t get one, I think, they get you.”

“I don’t wanna get gotten,” one child on her hip sniffled.

“That’s only bad witches that get you,” Lukey said.

Lettie sighed. “No, I mean, you don’t do something to get a witch, they come to you.”

“That’s right, girly,” Margo Clay said from her perch watching over a pot of stew on the open fire. She had not been invited. Like witches, Margo simply appeared without being fetched. “But I tell you what, you can make them know you want one.”

“How’s that?” Daff Keening asked, arms crossed over his comfortably large belly. His sudden and stout presence made his son scramble up and pretend to be busy helping Lettie wrangle several children, all of whom resembled her as nesting dolls resemble the one they fit inside.

“You make a place ready for her.” Margo’s brash tone, as ever, drew more people from their tasks to pay attention to her. “Like baiting a trap. Can’t expect a mouse to walk into your trap unless you make it look inviting.”

“What do you know about mice?” Sal Hark asked skeptically.

“They’re close relatives of hers,” Jame Clott said, unable to resist. “The better question is, what does she know about witches?”

————————

Margo Clay was an incorrigible gossip, but people who liked gossip liked Margo, so she was listened to anyway.

Catty Loose sent Lettie  to sweep the empty store and dust the unnecessary amount of shelves. Lukey Keening tagged along to clean the small windows and help keep three small Looses in hand. The gaggle of children in and around the shop drew Jame Clott to poke his head in and see what was going on.

“Well! It looks clean, but it doesn’t look like a witch’s shop,” he declared.

“He’s right, Mama,” Lettie told her mother that evening. “I tossed out all the shriveled up herbs she had in there when I cleaned the shelves. Some of them had crumbled near into dust. But with the shelves empty it doesn’t look much like a witch’s place.”

Catty relayed this to the Macintoshes, who were eager for a replacement witch, in case anybody got cursed like Aida had last year.

“Mmhmm,” Catty said to that.

“I think the Harks have the magic books the old witch left,” Theo Macintosh said. “We can put those in there.”

—————————

Sal Hark brought the books around the shop a few days later, squinting in the sunshine at the man who was already there. “Hey, Jame. Witch showed up yet?”

Jame Clott startled back from the window he was peering through. “Nah, no witch is coming.”

Sal let out a whistle of agreement, but his smile was amused, like he thought Jame was wrong.

“Not with the shop looking that shoddy, anyway,” Jame said with a sniff. “There isn’t even a sign.”

“Blew down in a storm a few years ago, I think,” Sal said. “We know what shop it is, anyhow. Not like we’ve got shops every which way.”

“The witch wouldn’t know, since she’s new,” Jame said testily. If the whole town was going to take up Margo’s logic, they had better be consistent.

“Tell you what, then, you ought to paint a new sign. You’re the only one here who knows which end of a paintbrush goes where.”

Jame shook his head and waved goodbye. He wasn’t making a sign for an empty shop, a shop that would remain empty.

That night he saw Willem look out their kitchen window at that empty shop, something sad and wistful in his eyes, several times during their quiet dinner. Their dinners were always quiet, though they told each other about their days in detail, and debated if Margo’s pumpkins were any good at length. It was the quiet of something missing, the kind of quiet the Loose’s house down the street, full to the brim, had never known.

“Sal Hark said I should paint a sign for the witch’s shop, to make her want to come,” Jame said, surprising himself.

Willem tore his eyes away from the window and looked at him. After a moment, he smiled. “Face it, Jame, they won’t get her to come without your help.”

————————

Jame put up the new sign next week, his back so stiff-straight that nobody dared tease him about coming round to Margo’s thinking, though several people gathered across the street to watch.

The sign was big and square and sturdy, and painted on both sides was an open tome with stylized curls of magic shooting from it. Willem held the ladder steady while he hung it up, and Jame felt almost hopeful. Through the shining little windows passersby could see the neat shop room and the witch’s small collection of spell books sitting on one of the many shelves, and it looked almost inviting.

————————

Margo, who lived outside town, was the first one to realize someone had come to town overnight.

“Your witch is here!” she crowed, all but dancing down Oak Street in the early morning. “What did I tell you? Make it nice and she’ll come!”

“Quiet your racket,” said an irritable Jame, poking his head out his door. “Witch isn’t the word I’d use for you.”

“Wheel tracks!” she yelled at him. “Fresh wheel tracks down the road before I left my farm! Who brings a cart into town except for me and the tax collector? And the tax collector wouldn’t have set up shop in there!” She pointed one victorious finger at the corner shop where Jame’s sign swayed gently in the breeze. A rickety wooden cart was collapsed on the ground below it.

Jame opened his mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Down the street, Catty Loose stuck her head out the window. “Margo, what are you whooping about? Oh my—Lettie! Lettie, find my shawl!” Her head ducked back inside, and before the last copper curl had followed it out the window, she was rushing out the front door, Lettie close on her heels.

Jame snapped his mouth shut and hurried after Margo, Catty, and Lettie, following them to the corner shop. A sleepy bundle of Loose kitlings, a couple of Keenings, a herd of Macintoshes and even a Hark or two were all heading in the same direction.

Someone had moved into the witch’s shop.

There were muddy shoe prints down the stone path, a new blue-checked curtain drawn over the window, and Margo standing triumphantly in front of the house, hands on her hips. “Didn’t I tell you! Didn’t I!”

“So you did,” said Sal Hark, “but quiet, Margo, or you’ll wake her up. She must’ve come in dead of night.”

Margo ignored him. “Well, I hope you all remember this. When I’m right, I’m right!”

Behind her, the witch’s door cracked open.

The girl who opened it was no older than Lettie Loose, and probably younger. Her face was nervous, but as she took in the crowd outside her door, it broke into a shy smile. “Oh. Hello. I didn’t expect... I’m not all set up yet. But I suppose the library can be open now if you want.”

“What?” said Margo.

“Library?” said Catty.

“I knew it,” said Jame. “You didn’t catch yourself a witch. You caught a librarian.”

Margo glared at him, apparently lost for words.

The girl looked back and forth between them. “I’m sorry?”

Margo rounded on her. “A librarian! Is that what you are? Then you have to leave. We’re waiting for a witch.”

The girl’s mouth opened and shut, her eyes big, and then she looked down and sniffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jame snapped, a protectiveness in his voice so fierce that Margo took a step back from both him and the girl. He glared around him, making sure no one else was going to follow Margo’s lead, and then turned back to the girl. All anger dropped out of his face immediately, replaced by a gentle warmth. “Have you got family?”

“Not anymore,” she said. “I’m... I’ve just been taking my library around. That’s my family. I thought we could stay here, maybe, If that’s alright.”

“That’s just fine. We’ve never had a library before, we’re all real grateful you came. Come have breakfast.” He didn’t wait for an answer, already thinking of having a full kitchen, and Willem no longer staring out the window, and needing to find more eggs for breakfast, and who in town might have extra shoes to replace the worn-thin boots on her feet.

A layer of tension seemed to slough off her. She stepped out of her doorway and a few feet onto the path to follow Jame, then paused. Looking back at them, she said, “When you take a book, write the title and your name in the ledger, and return it in two weeks.”

Skipping to catch up with Jame, she grabbed his hand with an easy sort of trust. She turned her face up to him. “If it’s not for a library, why is it full of shelves? Why were there already books there? Why does it have a book sign?”

“Sometimes,” Jame said, “People think they’re waiting for one thing, but they’re really waiting for another.”

“Were you?” she asked.

He saw the moment Willem noticed them through the window, saw hope dawn in his eyes as he watched them come up the path; his husband, and a girl who looked like she needed a home.

“No,” he said. “We were waiting exactly for you.”

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Hey @vindicatedvirgil remember this prompt you sent a while back that was supposed to be Rociet but I changed my mind? I finally finished the original!

At the Last Second

Summary:   Inspired by Snowing in Venice by Elizaveta. In an attempt to get as far away from their hometown as possible, Janus decides to go to college in Venice, Italy. Roman is conflicted over his feelings about it and doesn't know what to say until the last second.

Warnings: asthma mention. Please let me know if there are more

Ships: Janus x Roman, Rociet

WC: 1, 985

General Taglist: (ask to be tagged generally or in specific writing.) @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi

Maybe my song, isn’t happy enough but I

I see it take flight with the snowflakes above

My coffee gets cold, as I’m staring enthralled 

At the snow that keeps falling outside

-----

Roman snuck another glance at Janus when they thought he wasn’t looking, seeing him still smiling slightly and nodding along to whatever song was on that Roman couldn’t concentrate on right now because they were looking at Janus. It wasn’t as if this was a new occurrence, they looked at Janus all the time. When he took half assed notes during class, pushing his soft, straight hair out from in front of his eyes with practiced impatience. When he glided along beside Roman on his skateboard while they tried desperately to keep their eyes on the sidewalk lest they flip over the handlebars of their bike. When he walked towards them with that signature crookeds smile, straight backed but casual and always ready with some biting quip they would both laugh at. And now- when he was driving to the airport for college, Roman sat beside him destined to waste away in the small town they had grown up in, alone and forgotten.

Admittedly that was dramatic even for them but it felt true all the same. Roman had never really gotten along with Janus until high school hit, when Roman had actually started looking away from their own little bubble and out towards everyone else’s. For the life of them they couldn’t imagine why they had ever been enemies. Janus was smart, scarily so sometimes, often getting into debates (arguments) with Logan and Virgil in any given class and always seeming to have just the right phrase or quote or research paper handy to pull up on his phone that drove his points across. He could sing, though Roman didn’t admit they had heard him while he painted the theater sets one day until many months later; his beautifully haunting baritone filling the theater as if he was the only one ever meant to sing in it. He was also incredibly caring, helping Roman through rough patch after rough patch and letting Roman do the same for him. They had become nearly inseparable from ninth grade on but now-

Janus had always been smart and always wanted to move as far away from their hometown as possibly- namely his family but that was another topic entirely. Roman had helped him research colleges when they were in eleventh grade, jokingly saying that with all his dramatics and flair he should go to Paris to study, citing it as a place to find the romanticism he alway put into everything anyway. Learning he had taken that to heart as a possibility to get even further away, eventually enrolling in and getting accepted not to anywhere in Paris, but instead Venice, Italy had nearly torn Roman in two. They had been so incredibly happy for and proud of their friend but they selfishly wished he had stayed just a little bit closer. Roman dreamed of a teaching job, somewhere they could help out in the creative department helping kids like them come out of their shell and discover new talents and passions. They didn’t need to go overseas for that- they didn’t want to and was in the process of preparing to move a state over to go to a community college to start out that path.

So Janus was moving thousands of miles away for who knew how long (four years at least) and Roman would then only be furthering that gap with his own move, leaving them to letters and skype calls as the primary source of communication rather than their trips to the cake shop or late night talks at the local park. And Roman knew that should be enough, but he was already missing the weight of Janus’ hand in their own and his warmth at their side during movie marathons and their smile and laugh and stupid, sarcastic sense of humor. They snuck  another glance over but realized with a start Janus was looking at them, his hand off the wheel and- when had the car stopped? They couldn’t possibly be there already could they?

But they were, and Janus was looking at them with that all knowing look that always infuriated Roman to no end but he said nothing, instead reaching over and squeezing their hand before moving to get out of the car. The airport wasn’t really that far away from their town, just an hours drive to the edge of the city but Roman still felt they had just wasted it pouting instead of actively being there for their best friend. Janus wouldn’t say anything though, he probably knew how Roman was feeling before they knew themself but the knowing silence was somehow worse, filling the space between them that was about to get so much longer with too many words and not enough time to say them. Nevertheless they grabbed up a bag and smiled at the other, shutting the trunk after him and following to the waiting area. They had made good time, having a little over an hour to waste before Janus would have to board, which Roman had previously been ecstatic about but now it meant they might actually have to talk and they didn’t think they’d have the common sense to keep their mouth shut when it came to how they actually felt about him leaving.

“Roman, did you leave my medical bag in the car?” Janus’ concern pulled them out of their head as they looked around where they had decided to sit, sure it had been among the things they had picked up but they didn’t notice the unmistakable bright orange anywhere.

“I’ll go check, you stay with the bags so they don’t get stolen.” Janus nodding to give them the go-ahead had them turning on their heel and hurrying back towards the parking garage, twirling the keys around their finger as they went.

One thorough search of the car later and Roman was frantically texting Janus that they must have left it at the house, though how either of them had managed it they couldn’t fathom. 

Roman: I’ll just drive back and get it. Text you when I find it.

Janus: Hold on, let me get there since you left me with ALL THE BAGS

Roman: It’ll be faster if I just go. Let me be the dashing prince to rescue your trip!

Roman started the car up and quickly put it into reverse, not really thinking about practically stealing Janus’ car from him. Their phone buzzed from the passenger seat as he glanced in the rear view before pulling out completely, wincing as he saw Janus standing there where the car had just been parked. Several buzzes later and the car fell silent, making them bite back a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. They had wanted an out from the tense hour that waiting for the flight would have been, they just wished it had been something a bit more low stakes than forgetting a bag with Janus’ epipen and inhaler inside. Settling further down into the seat they concentrated hard on the road, praying there wouldn’t be any traffic.

-----

Ten minutes.

Roman practically face planted on their way out of the car, swinging the bag up in triumph of finding it or fear of breaking it they didn’t know and was too busy to think about at the moment. Tearing through the air port as fast as they possibly could they finally found Janus standing near the line people were in to board the plane, glancing at his phone before looking around for any sign of Roman coming with his bag. In their haste they had forgotten to text him but they were here now- sweaty, gross and aching with all the things they wanted to say but didn't have time to even though they probably wouldn’t have taken the chance when they had it anyway. As much as they so wished this moment to be their happily ever after it was too soon in both of their lives for that and they’d have to come to terms with the fact that long distance anything was hard and they would both be busy with their own lives.

Pushing their bangs away from their face they finally reached Janus and held out the rescued bag, chest heaving from running through a house and then an airport. 

“You truly didn’t have to go all the way back on your own to get this Roman, but thank you.” Janus squinted at him and chuckled. “It’s a good thing I have this, do you need my inhaler?”

“I’d have to keep it since looking at you takes my breath away already.” Roman blurted, opening their mouth before they could think.

Janus blinked, then scowled playfully. “Roman Sanders, was that a pick up line? You waited until I’m about to leave the country to flirt with me?”

“No! ...well, yes but- I’ve flirted with you plenty before!”

“Jokingly!” Janus shoved them before grabbing at the front of their shirt and stepping closer. “You are insufferable.”

Roman hardly dared to breath as Janus leaned in closer, hands fluttering nervously at their sides as they stood still and waited. Smiling, Janus leaned up slightly. “May I have a kiss goodbye then?”

“If you don’t I will scream so loud security will take you and then you’ll have no choice but to stay here longer.”

Chuckling Janus stepped closer, erasing any pretense of space between them. Finally deciding their hands would feel less awkward resting on the others’ hips, they pulled Janus forward gently and tilted their head with his. The general din of the airport faded away as soft strands of feather light hair tickled their nose and Janus’ hands came up to tangle in their own somewhat frizzier hair at the nape of their neck. There was an announcement that vaguely sounded like Janus was being called to board but they were only held tighter as their lips finally, finally met.

And oh.

They almost wished they could sue Disney only on the merit that it had set their expectations for a first kiss entirely too low. There were no fireworks, no choir to set the mood further. It didn’t feel like the climax of their life nor like coming home after a long and tiring journey. It was soft, so very soft. A simple brush against their lips that filled them with an indescribable amount of joy for such a small action; and then they were being pulled and they followed willingly, pressing against the other just a little tighter. Their noses bumped despite the angle and Roman’s hands still felt awkward even if Janus hadn’t brushed them away but it felt like nothing and everything they had always dreamed it would be because it was Janus so it was good and perfect and like nothing they had ever experienced or wanted to experience in their life.

It only lasted a couple seconds, Janus pulling away only to peck their nose and whisper a quiet “see you later” against their lips and he was gone, hurrying towards the plane as the last call for his appearance was announced. Roman stood there, dumbfounded with a burning face but a chest that was burning  ten times hotter, hands still slightly outstretched where Janus’ waist had been moments before. Shaking themself out of it they turned swiftly and made their way over to a bench by the windows to watch the plane take off. Four years in Venice for Janus, four years in Pennsylvania for Roman.

They could do that.

-----

Maybe my song isn’t happy enough but I

I see it take flight with the snowflakes above me

My coffee gets cold as I’m staring enthralled 

This work is also available on AO3!

At the snow the keeps falling outside

If you like this please reblog! Reblogs helps creators get their work seen!

[letsloveimagines]

Title: One kiss or your soul

Pairing: Modern AU! Ivar the Boneless x female!demon!reader

Prompt: Where Ivar decides to my a deal with a demon.

Word Count: 4520

Warnings: a little swearing, satanic rituals, mention of monsters and death

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also,the rituals were based on Supernatural.

                                                          ♦⋅☆⋅♦ 

He tried to take a short walk that day, for the first time in months... His skin was now bone white, and Ivar knew he needed at least about ten minutes of vitamin D.

What he did not expect was the huge crowd that was on the street that blessed day; families gathered to talk animatedly, children playing with each other to discuss the disguises they would wear and all the sweets they would eat. The city appeared to be decorated with bats, cobwebs, scarecrows and zombies, lanterns and pumpkins. It was then, while he was surrounded by people everywhere and feeling his heart thundering, that he remembered it was October, Halloween more precisely, and the whole community was getting ready for the fun of that night.

The pain in his legs was already characteristic, his gait was sloppy and lame, and crutches were his longtime companions. But that never failed to attract attention as always, and that happened at that moment. The children who played looked at him laughing and pointing, talking to each other, the adults whispered and looked at him with pity.

Ivar hated pity.

And he hated even more how the attention of those shitty people made him feel, even though he was already used to it.

With a strong desire to vomit, feeling the sweat running down every corner of his body and trying to breathe, Ivar looked for any corner where he could take shelter. The small library across the street that seemed to be the only establishment without the festive theme appeared to be the best option. He was quick to cross the street - as fast as it was possible for him - to enter the establishment, greet the lady with the half-moon glasses behind the counter (who chewed blue bubblegum while filing her nails), and hid in the most distant place possible, among several decrepit shelves almost falling with the weight of dozens of books.

Ivar had sat on the floor, his back against the books and shelves, his head hidden in his arms and knees drawn up just trying to remember how to breathe. He was at the beginning of a panic attack, and being aware of it only made him even more distressed. He hated that it happened because of his useless legs and because of people he didn't care about. Why couldn't he have been born healthy like his brothers? The air did not seem to reach his lungs fast enough, leaving him almost choked and trembling all around, and with the world spinning around him over and over again.

It took a while, but it ended up after a few minutes of breathing exercises. The frustration remained, however, leaving him so enraged with himself and the world, that he punched the bookshelf behind him in an abrupt gesture. This hasty action caused so much noise that he was sure that the children across the street had been able to hear. In silence, swallowing hard and fearing he would be expelled to face the crowd outside, Ivar peered slightly at the librarian trying to see if she had heard it too. This one, however, had her back to him with the phone between her ear and shoulder, talking animatedly while continuing to take care of her nails, without paying attention to what was happening around her.

"No..." she exclaimed, certainly wanting to sound shocked, but looking completely delighted by what she had just heard. "Don't tell me that she really said that to you?"

More relieved, the boy leaned back against the bookshelf perhaps with more force than was necessary, as he immediately felt the wood behind him creak and the piece of furniture rocked from side to side. The dark-haired boy was quick to grab it, managing to keep it from tipping over, but not without a few books falling to the floor raising so much dust that it left his black pants almost gray. One of those books, due to fate, had not joined the others on the wooden floor eaten by the termites immediately, but had fallen on top of him, the hardcover hitting his head hard. Thankfully, the boy had been born with a head full of rich black hair capable of supporting the impact, or he could now have a bruise to take care of later.

Curiously, still rubbing his head with the free hand of his clutch, he looked at the cursed object. It was a book with a brown cover and black insignia and broken in the corners. In large and dark letters, in a font that looked like a victorian one he could read 'Monsters in the Darkness'. Interesting title, Ivar thought, quickly putting the other books on the shelf and flipping through the one that had caught his eye.

Looking at the watch on his phone that said it was still 2PM, and listening to the conversations outside, he thought why not.

He found himself a chair, shook off the dust with the back of his hand and began to read. The pages were turned quickly while Ivar, frowning, realized what the book was really about.

"What the fuck?" He asked in a low voice, amazed.

His hands held the book tightly, his eyes skimming over the yellowed and gnawed pages. Or maybe it was the mice, this place seems to be full of them, Ivar thought. It was true. That library was old, smelled of mold and looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. But that was a good thing, at least for him, because it meant it was almost always empty. Whoever wrote this must be on drugs.

But he still didn't stop.

The more he read the more confused he became. The names and notes changed as well as the images, but they were all on the same theme: dark creatures and reports of sightings. Vampires, werewolves, spirits... creatures with claws and fangs, ferocious and with the ability to kill as easily as breathing.

The younger Lothbrok was confused but immensely interested. He didn't believe any of that, but it helped to pass the time. The boy always liked scary things, but he liked the real ones better, and those creatures that the book addressed had no way of being real. However, he was unable to drop the book.

His fingerprints passed smoothly through the written words and the drawn figures, feeling the depth of the ink on the paper. The words registered in his mind quickly as he read page by page, practically devouring the book in what seemed to him mere minutes, but in fact it was already three hours straight sitting in a corner of the moldy library, with a weak lamp beside him illuminating his reading.

He read so much until his blue eyes got tired and he was forced to rest for a few minutes, and until he was at the end of the book. The last theme was demons, but as soon as he turned the page to continue reading, he found… nothing, just the back cover of the book indicating that it was over.

Strange, he thought absently. And that page was even stranger, a few millimeters thicker than the others... almost as if it were glued.

He should? Looking again at the librarian who, admirably, was still distracted on the phone after three hours, Ivar grabbed the knife he always carried with him, opened it and carefully took it to the paper, making a small cut. As he suspected, the previous page was actually many more, and Ivar was eager to find out what it was about and why those pages seemed to be a secret.

> Of all the inhuman creatures that walk the earth, demons are the most evil. They desire nothing more than death and destruction, and not out of desperation or need as is the case with vampires who need blood to survive ... Demons kill and torture simply because they want and can, because they love the pleasure that the chaos of humanity brings them. There are those who say that they were also mortal once, but that their souls were corrupted so perversely in the depths of hell that they ended up becoming what tortured them. Blood, pain and death are all that are left behind when they pass.

> They are faster, more beautiful and stronger than should be possible. They are attractive and charming, in a way that hypnotizes a human. But they are evil, above all. Demons are separated into different sections depending on their personal power, or at least that is what we think. They are able to make a deal with a mortal, give us what we want for a while, but take away something they want afterwards. They are deadly dangerous… She, above all.

Ivar didn't even realize he was reading aloud until his voice started to crack, and he had to clear his throat so much that it looked like his throat was scratched. He wanted water, but he didn't have it, and he was not going to stop reading his interesting book now to fetch it. Frowning, he looked back at the page.

> It is not really known who she is or when she was created. Some say that she is Lilith, the first demon known by men and the mother of monsters... Others say that she is even older and her real name is lost, or forgotten by those who fear her. Now, she is known as Y/N, and as her there is no equal. Dark and deadly, she is Lucifer's right hand. But she is the most qualified to make a deal with, if they are brave enough to do so, and if they have something she wants.

Deal? What kind of deal? Ivar asked himself, and at that moment his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. When he pulled it out and unlocked it, a message from Alfred appeared on the display.

Alfred: Hey man, are you sure you don't want to join a horror movie marathon? It was going to be fun.

Oh, Ivar had completely forgotten about that. Alfred had already invited him a few days ago, but the long-haired boy hadn't given him the right answer since he was working on one of the chapters in his new book. He made a point of ignoring his family's thousands of missed messages and calls, however.

Ivar: Nah bro, I still haven't finished the chapter and I have until Thursday to deliver. I will probably be busy working on it for the next few hours. Sorry…

That was what I had to do as soon as I got home. It didn't take long to receive an answer.

Alfred: There is no problem, but you will have to compensate me. The marathon is next Saturday, okay?

Ivar: Yeah, sounds good to me!

He received a "Cool" as an answer and returned the phone to his pocket.

> Generally summoning a demon requires several ingredients: a devil's trap, fire (white, black or red candles), bowl with red-hot charcoal, salt, summoner's blood and the summoning words.

Ivar then proceeded to read what the ritual was like, along with the necessary Latin words.

> However, it is not advisable to do this. Once a demon is summoned and on the human floor, they are freed from the restrictions of hell. There is nothing to stop them from doing what they want. And if you try to summon her... Well, may God have mercy on your soul.

And so the book ended, with a phrase that at that moment seemed so scary.

His throat was dry, his hands were shaking again and for some strange reason he felt the sweat on his forehead and neck, the fat drops escaping the hairline running down his neck and back.

Should I? He thought, confused, it's freaking stupid, I know.

Ivar was a man of science, he believed in the real facts. Yes, he liked scary stories and mythologies - after all, one of his books dealt with Norse mythology - but he didn't really believe in it. And everything in that accursed book that had fallen on his head addressed unreal things, fictional things... Monsters created by the human imagination, by humans who wanted to blame their own evil on creatures that could not exist.

He was already closing the book and getting up to replace it, when he stopped and looked at his left hand, opened his palm and saw the half-moon wounds he had done with his nails in one of his attacks of anger.

He sat down again, staring at the yellowed pages. The dark, sharp letters and monstrous figures, with horns and cat-like eyes were everything he could see... that and his hands, always injured.

The earlier panic attack came back to him, his mind working at full speed. Frustrated, he ran his hands through his dark hair making a mess of locks fall onto his forehead and into his eyes, and he felt like pulling out each one.

The librarian was still talking on the phone, the children outside were playing, but all Ivar could think about was how hard it had been to breathe, and how much the walls felt like they were going to close and crush him in that moment when he was curled up on the floor hours ago, with useless legs at his side and that characteristic pain.

Why couldn't he just be normal?

"Fuck it." He grunted then, tearing up the page that contained the details of the ritual while making sure he was not seen, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. He closed the book, got up, grabbed his crutch and went to put the book in a random place on the shelf where it belonged.

Without further ado, he passed the librarian who looked at him strangely again, still in that conversation (what kind of work allowed her to be on the phone for hours with no end?), And left the place that had been his hiding place in the last hours.

It was night when he returned home. The full moon shone overhead, and the children and their companions were already spotted in all kinds of disguises ringing the bells and knocking on the doors.

Upon entering his practically empty apartment, with only the minimalist decor here and there, he placed the bag from the convenience store on the couch, and pushed it away. The feet of the couch squeaked as they were dragged across the wooden floor and left a prominent mark.

He turned on the TV on a random channel and turned the sound down, just to feel a presence and have a light to illuminate, and closed the curtains on the window that was always closed too. He would never again make the mistake of leaving it open, the last time that Mrs.Rose's cat on the third floor entered the house in search of food, and left a mess of scratched furniture and broken cushions.

Taking a deep breath he took the materials he bought, and prepared himself.

Even though Ivar didn't believe it was going to work, he was still willing to try it, at this point he was desperate… The prices of medicines were high, the hospital bills were even higher, and even with his writing career going well, he continued to lose hundreds of dollars a month. Ivar was too proud to join his father's company, contrary to what his brothers had done. He wanted a job that was his own, and guaranteed on his own merit and not because it was in the family.

And he wanted to go outside and not worry about people seeing him because of his disability and dragging legs... he wanted to be able to live, not just survive.

For once in his life Ivar wanted normalcy.

He opened the box of chalk, took the page he still had in his pocket, and with the red chalk he drew the pentagram shown on the paper on the floor. The lines were more crooked than they were supposed to, but it should be enough to work.

He took the black candles, placed one on each of the five ends of the star, and lit them with a lighter. Then he put the charcoal in a bowl, lit it and watched it burn for a while.

He took the knife in his pocket, took the sharp blade to the index finger of his left hand and pressed hard, breaking the skin. Ivar saw the red drops begin to fall into the bowl, the blood sizzling as it came in contact with the burning coal.

And then he did nothing more than take a deep breath for a few good minutes.

Before being too afraid to continue - he wasted too much time and energy to stop now - he spoke, pronouncing each word slowly and correctly, in a calm tone.

"Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati maea. Te invoco apro funus inferni, Y/N." 

For a moment nothing happened it was just him there, in the middle of the living room, with a number of absurd things around him that if anyone saw him, he would be immediately sent to a hospital.

But suddenly he shivered. The floor shook, the walls shook, everything shook. TV and appliances, furniture, lamps, everything. The plates and glass bottles on the kitchen table rattled, toppled and broke into a thousand pieces as it fell to the floor. The windows seemed to want to open with the force of the wind outside that wanted to enter, whistling furiously. Ivar had to hold on to something when the earthquake suddenly got stronger.

And then…

The flames went out, leaving the wax to melt and hit the floor, he wasn't sure how he was going to explain it to the owner, the shaking stopped and the wind calmed down.

Ivar was left in darkness and silence, with blood dripping from his index finger to his pants, and breathing so fast that he had to open his mouth and inhale as deeply as his lungs could take to try to breathe.

Blood was pumping through his veins and hitting his ears, preventing him from hearing.

"You are such an idiot." The man said frustrated with himself. It was just an earthquake, which came just in time to almost make me believe. Later, when I turn on the TV, I’m going to see that all over the news.

He shook his head, and looked once again at the destruction in the kitchen and confusion in the living room. He was getting ready to go clean up the mess when the candles lit again - alone this time - they went up so high that they looked like they were going to reach the ceiling, beautiful dancers in red, orange, and yellow dresses. The firelight created strange shadows in every corner, tall and small, thin and wide.

And there, in the middle of the chalk-drawn pentagram, was a woman.

Ivar gasped in shock, stepping back several steps, almost falling into the sack of coal left there. The woman looked at him and he looked at the mysterious woman.

"Mortals." She almost spat, full of disdain. "Always so bold and wishing for more than they are due."

He didn't know what to say or how to react. He had hoped it would work but at the same time he didn't really expect it to actually work!

"So what do you want, human?" She said disinterestedly, looking at the chalk-drawn pentagram that held her in disgust.

"I want to make a deal."

"Oh really?" The way she spoke suggested that she thought the boy was stupid. "What is your name, mortal?"

"Ivar Lothbrok." He replied proudly, because as much as he hated his life, he could not hate his name.

"Cute." Y/N commented with an eyebrow raised in clear disdain. "Now tell me what you really want."

Ivar tried to swallow his anger, tried not to let it show on his face and mannerisms, but he couldn't. His eyes and jaw narrowed, his nostrils flared in fury, and his hands gripped the clutch so tightly that for a moment he was afraid to break it. "Look at me and tell me what you think I want!"

And she looked. She looked from head to toe, passing through his long dark hair, blue eyes and facial features, over his body and legs... those damn legs.

"I don't see anything too much."

If it were possible, Ivar would now be smoking his ears. The veins in his neck swelled and bulged, and his cheeks flushed with anger.

“All my life I have always been different from everyone else. If we still lived in ancient times, my parents would leave me in the forest for the wolves when I was born. My whole life has been a struggle, I am the youngest son and the one who had the misfortune of being like this. I'm not normal, I'm not like my brothers, and as much as everyone tells me that it doesn't matter… I can't help being angry all the time.” Ivar confessed, forcing his grip on his clutch. “I was born with broken legs, I spent my entire life in hospitals and being inspected by the doctors. And now they said they think that I will get worse and stop walking completely. Being healthy is what I want.”

There was silence for a long time, while the human and demon looked at each other.

"Yes, that is possible."

"Then give it to me!"

The demon's laugh was loud, hoarse and cold, and her face was full of disdain. But then it changed in front of him, becoming something out of a horror movie. The beautiful woman was gone and now there was something much worse. It was an almost grotesque sight in his human eyes. A dark and without beauty female figure. A pale face and half cadaverous; black lips and sharp teeth like a dagger blade. Completely red eyes shining with hunger and malice. Two long horns protruded from between the hair with something sticky like blood.

Ivar's extremely blue eyes widened, he backed away almost falling again in that damn night.

“Honey, this is not how it works. Do you really know who you are talking to? Do you think you can boss me around? Do you expect me to do something to you without giving me something in return?” She said in an ugly, guttural and chilling voice, smiling devilishly revealing a long, almost snake-like tongue.

"As long as you're in that trap, you'll have to do what I want." He tried as hard as possible not to let his voice falter, but he still couldn't.

"Oh really?"

And as if just to prove her point, she took a step forward, approaching and crossing the crooked lines that formed the pentagram leaving the trap completely.

“Deary, you should have done your research better. With a normal demon, perhaps this lowly trap could have worked, but with me? I am something much worse than a simple demon, and by invoking me you have left me completely free to do what I want. ”

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be."

Ivar's heart was pounding in his chest, almost as if it was about to explode at any moment, and his fragile legs were shaking so much that he didn't even know how he was still standing.

"I want to be able to walk freely, run, jump... Do everything I can't right now. Please..." She seemed to want him to beg, but Ivar didn't. He could put aside some of his pride, but not that much.

They stayed close to each other, he deathly pale looking in amazement at the bottomless red pits that were her eyes, her sharp teeth, her black lips full of darkness... Until she opened a toothy and devilish smile, and little by little her demonic features retreated, disappearing into her skin again and making her look like a human woman again… and a beautiful one.

She walked away still smiling amused, letting out a little laugh. "Usually I give you what you want and you have ten years to enjoy it."

Ivar's heart gave a huge leap in his chest. "What happens at the end of the ten years?"

"I keep your soul…” Y/N shrugged, assessing her sharp nails before looking at him and raising her left eyebrow, still with the crooked smile on her lips. “Which means that at the end of these years, you die. "

Ten years, thought Ivar. I always knew that I wouldn't live long, anyway. But...

"Usually?" He gave voice to his thoughts.

“I liked you, you seem to have courage... You were brave in trying to challenge me, stupid, but brave. I'll give you what you want, in exchange for... ”The woman seemed to think for a while. “… a kiss.”

"A kiss?" The young man thought surprised and in other words, extremely incredulous. With everything she could ask of him, she just wanted a kiss? The book should have been mistaken, it was impossible for this demon to be so dangerous if Ivar is the one that actually wins with the agreement between them.

"A simple and small kiss." She repeated, seeing his puzzled expression. "It's one kiss or your soul, you choose."

"We have an agreement, then." Ivar said.

"Great." Y/N smiled, making her eyes blood-red again.

She came over, put her hand on his neck and pulled him forward until their lips were timidly shocking at first, but quickly turning into a fleeting and toothy kiss, with their lips moving in sync and their tongues caressing one another. She tasted like danger... And it was a good taste.

When they pulled away, Y/N still had the smirk on her mouth when she snapped her fingers, causing him to make a huge cry.

He felt excruciating pain like never before, his legs seemed to be on fire, they burned so much, the pain was horrible. It felt like all of his fragile bones were breaking and growing, only to break again. Ivar fell to the ground screaming so loudly that his neighbors probably thought he was being murdered and would be ready to call the police at any moment.

It hurt, but it passed. Sweat ran down his face, his hands were shaking, his body was shaking. But when he got up again without the help of a crutch, he had never felt better, his legs were… healthy, normal, complete… healed.

"I- I can't believe this..."

"You have what you want, and I got what I want. "

Something about her facial expression seemed wrong, Y/N seemed too delighted just for the simple reward she had won.

"The kiss wasn't the only thing you wanted, was it?"

"No, it was not."

"We had an agreement! What do you-"

"Has anyone ever told you not to mess with things you don't understand?" She stroked his face, with a smirk on her lips. "Honey, you belong to me now."

[goddesswritings]

peacefall - the adjustment | Sam Taylor

Title: peacefall – the adjustment

Pairing: AU Ghost!Sam Taylor x OC

Summary: Y/n is a writer and her books are pretty popular. She moves into a house in the country to get away from the craziness of the city. She wants to put all her focus on her next book. Weird things begin happening in the house. She discovers she has a ghost and he has quite a past. They begin to bond, but he begins to see that she is hiding something big from him. Something that will impact her life.

Word Count: 2.1k

Y/n/n = Your Nickname

MASTERLIST

********

PART ONE <<

“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but a helpless, miniature person was not it. When my older sister came to tell me, we were expecting a new sibling she reminded me that I was once that new person coming into life and that now, I share the responsibility in protecting them. That my life was going to change for the better, with this new addition to the family, as was theirs.”

Today you decided to make this ghost show itself one way or another, because you were getting sick of its games. It had been responsible for hiding the book notes. It was keeping you up half the night with the noises it would make. No matter how much noise it made, it would never show itself.

This made you realize the history of the house needed to be found and then maybe you would be able to figure out who was haunting the place. A big part of you knew the ghost was the man that was seen in that dream. Sam. But you needed to make sure that there was a Sam who did indeed live in the house. Maybe then he can settle down and let you reside with him in peace.

Waking up this morning, you felt a slight pressure in your head. This was your sign you were going to get a headache sometime during the day. So, you needed to make the trip out of the house quick, before the headache set in. Because once the headache hit, it took a full day to recover. There was no remedy for them.

Quickly getting dressed, you called a cab to take you to the library, where you knew to find information on the house you were living in. There had to be something in the books about it.

When you arrived at the library, you spotted an older lady sitting at the desk reading. You really hoped she could help.

She looked up as you approached her, “Hello, can you help me?” You questioned with a smile.

She smiled, “Of course I can. What did you need?”

Hoping you didn’t sound crazy when you told her this, you just dove right in, “I moved into town a few months ago, into a little house on Monroe Street. The house is incredibly old, I can’t really tell you how old though because I’m not good with that kind of stuff. Anyway, there have been some odd things happening in the house. I need to find out the history of the house.”

She had listened intently to you and the smile never left her face, “Oh dear, you’re the author who moved into the Taylor house.”

You tilted your head, “Oh yes, I am. Now why is it called the Taylor house?”

The woman stood up, “Why don’t we go have a seat at that table and I will tell you the history of the house.” Nodding, you followed her to the table. Settling in the chair across from her.

“In 1854, a man by the name Sam Taylor bought the house. No one knew much about the man, just that he was a very handsome fellow that had all the women wanting to become his wife. All we know is that he was an extraordinarily rich man. Oh, and he was extremely sweet. He used a lot of his money to help the town prosper.” Sam Taylor sounded like the perfect man.

“What happened to him?” As if you didn’t already know. You’d already put together that the dream was not just a dream. It was something that took place in that house, which means Sam must be the one haunting the house.

The lady frowned, “It’s not good darling. He was involved with a woman named Annabelle Porter. He was in love with her, even though she was betrothed to another man. He loved her with all his heart. People were positive she was going to leave her betrothed to marry Sam, but it didn’t play out that way. Sam disappeared without a trace.”

“Did they find him?”

She shook her head, “No dear, they didn’t. There was talk that he just simply left town because Annabelle wouldn’t marry him. But the authorities think differently. They had investigated his home to discover it had been broken into, or it seemed that way. They didn’t find anything else. But about a month after he disappeared, all his money went missing from the bank. They know that he wasn’t the one to take it.” Poor Sam.

“Oh my, that’s so sad…. Ugh.” A searing pain in your head cut you off. It was intense. You quickly gripped your head in pain.

“Are you alright dear?” The lady asked sounding afraid.

“Ugh….. no.” You were willing the pain to go away but knew it would not. “Could you…. uh…..call me a cab?” You had managed to ask this through the bursts of pain.

“Darling, don’t you think you should go to the hospital?” She was genuinely concerned at this point.

“No…..ah…. I just need to get home and……oh gosh……take my medicine.” The pain was so intense it made you want to cry. At this point, you knew that not even the medicine could help to suppress the intense throbbing. Nothing ever helped. The lady must have agreed because she rushed off to call a cab. You just stayed there, laying your head on your arms while trying to forget the pain.

Ten minutes later the lady showed up beside you, “Come on honey, your cabs here. Let me help you.” She helped you to stand up and walk outside. You were doing the best to breathe through the pain. Finally in the cab, you were on your way home. The librarian had even paid for the cab ride, how sweet of her.

When arriving home, you made your way to the kitchen and located the pain medication. Then you quickly took two before retreating off to the living room, where you passed out on the couch.

****

You guess you’d slept for a few hours, because when you were waking up you noticed that it must have been late afternoon. Also, you felt as though you were being watched. Turning your head, you saw a tall man, with Carmel eyes and dark hair. It was Sam.

Sam was looking at you with concern. It was easy tell he had been watching you for a while and it surprisingly didn’t bother you. Sitting up, you smoothed out your clothes.

“Sam?” You asked hoping to god he wouldn’t disappear because you really wanted to talk to him today.

“Yes, I am Sam.” He finally spoke.

“Are you not scared of me?” He questioned while looking you over, almost like he was trying figure out why you weren’t scared of him.

You shook your head, “No, should I be?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Everyone else who has lived in this house has been afraid of me. They all moved out with the first month. You are the first one who has stayed this long.”

“Well I don’t think there is anything to be scared of with you. You’re harmless.”

He chuckled, “Well that’s a first.”

Hearing him laugh, made you smile. It was completely crazy that you were actually conversing with a ghost right now. Add that to the list of things you would have never thought could happen. That list was getting quite long at this point.

“Yes, I suppose it is. I’m Y/n/n by the way.” You introduced yourself. You would think he would want to know the name of the woman inhabiting his house.

“Well you know that I am Sam. Sam Taylor.”

“Yes, I do.” You paused for a second, “Can I ask you some questions?” Suddenly you felt the need to know what it was like being a ghost. You needed to know how he was still here and how he was able to talk to you like this.

“Go ahead, I have eternity.” He chuckled a bit at that, you cracked a smile at his little joke.

“Hmmm okay. How long have you been trapped in this house?”

“Well I died in 1858 and its 2019 now, so I have been stuck here for 161 years.”

161 years. That was a long time to be stuck in a house like this.

“Oh wow, that’s a very long time.” You commented.

He shook his head, “It does not feel that long to be honest. Time passes a lot differently once you are dead.”

“Really? That’s cool. Umm, is it lonely?” That was a question you were afraid to ask.

He shrugged and started to walk around the room, “Sometimes it can be. It all depends on who’s occupying the house and the time of year. I don’t know why, but in the winter, it feels a lot lonelier than in any other seasons.”

“Oh.”

“Is it lonely living alone?” He suddenly asked. You hadn’t expected him to ask questions, but you welcomed it.

“I haven’t always lived alone. Right now, I need to be alone. I’m working on a particularly important book that needs to be finished and the only way I can do that is if I’m completely alone.” You couldn’t go into specifics about the book. Not yet.

“Oh okay.”

“How are you even communicating with me right now?” That was your biggest question right now.

Sam stopped pacing the room and faced you again, “I do not know how we are communicating. You are the first person to be able to see me. Other tenants were just able to hear me messing around the house. But they never actually saw me or heard me speak. No matter how hard I tried to get them to see me.” You could detect a hint of sadness in his voice. That was something you could understand.

There was an idea as to why You were able to see him right now, but you decided not to tell him.

“Well I guess I am different than them. More willing to see you maybe?”

He shrugged while looking closely at you. It felt like he could see right through you and it was a weird feeling.

“Well I am sorry for scaring you since you have been here. I was really only messing around.”

You smiled, “You didn’t scare me Sam. I knew you were only playing games and I think it’s fine.”

“You are quite different Y/n/n. No one else has been as open minded as you have been. Is there a reason you are like this?”

Suddenly you found interest in the wood floorboards, “Umm no, I don’t think so. I guess I’m just willing to experience this.”

You finally looked up to meet his eyes. Now you knew he was staring into your soul.

“Well I enjoy talking to you. I have not talked to a soul in all the time I have been dead.” He admitted.

“Wow that is an awfully long time not to talk to anyone. Please feel free to talk to me whenever because I like talking to you too.” It was the truth. Talking with Sam eased your mind of all troubles. He had a very calming personality.

“Good because I think we are going to be talking a lot.” He had the most amazing smile upon his face.

“Yes, I would like that.”

“I’m afraid I need to take a break. I don’t have much energy to talk to you for too long.”

This had you frowning because you had momentarily forgotten that Sam was a ghost. Ghosts needed energy to be able to manifest.

“Okay. I should probably go get some writing done. Please feel free to come to me whenever.” Honestly, you enjoyed being around Sam and he felt very human to you. It made you want to learn more about his life. You wanted to be able to talk to him about my life too.

“Yes, I will. Now please don’t overwork yourself Y/n Y/l/n.” He spoke before disappearing from sight.

That was weird. You don’t remember telling him your full name. You introduced yourself as Y/n/n. How did he know?

You were happy that you had slept off the headache. Now, you would be able to get some more of the book done. It needed to get done soon. You didn’t know when the deadline would be.

PART THREE >>

[welcometophu]

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 1

The Meaning of Home Chapter 1

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

[ First | Next ]

Even knowing that he’ll see him at the end of the trip, it’s strange for Pawel to be driving to his childhood home without Conor in the car. Usually his son would be requesting music changes, playing videos so loud that Pawel could hear them even with Conor’s headphones in place, or generally talking up a storm. Even after cranking the radio up to fill the silence, Pawel feels alone in a way he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

He can’t blame it entirely on Conor. Yes, as a single father he hasn’t had much, if any, time to himself in the last nine years. But this past academic year has been chaos to the point where it seems strange not to have one of his students in the car as they head off to save the world.

Students, yes, but he’s not that much older than most of them. Some of them are friends as well.

Rest. Take the summer and rest.

The voice in his mind sounds suspiciously like Mac, and he hears Carolyn’s soft, aggravated huff not long after as she adds, Get normal amounts of sleep. Take a shower. Eat real food.

Spend time with your kid, imaginary Mac adds.

Great. He’s back to being that only child who used to have conversations with invisible friends, except now, as an adult, it’s advice about self-care from real people who aren’t even here.

The thing is, they’re not wrong. He knows he has a tendency to focus intently on the one most important thing at hand and tune out everything else. Since fall semester—for the first time in nine years—that wasn’t Conor, and he still feels guilty about that. He feels the kind of guilty that means there are two brand new games for Conor’s handheld system in a bag on the back seat, along with a cooler holding freshly butchered grass-fed bison steaks as a thank you for his father for helping him out.

Pawel exhales.

Maybe he’s having a little trouble letting go of the chaos. In a way, it felt good to be busy. To fix things.

They saved the world.

Nobody knows it, but it happened. And Pawel knows, so he should be satisfied with a job well-done.

The question is: what can he do now?

Rest.

For all that they’re imaginary, the voices of his students are right, and he knows this. It’s just hard to let it all go, to accept that the chaos has ended and he can do that. But he’s clean-shaven, and his hair is neatly trimmed, even if he didn’t go back to his buzz cut. He looks older in the mirror than he remembers being when the school year began. He might even look his age, which would go a long way to gaining respect from incoming freshmen in the fall.

He just needs something to do with himself while on vacation over the summer.

Maybe his old dojang would let him step into a taekwondo class or two while he’s visiting Dad. It’d be nice to be the student rather than the instructor for once.

You couldn’t let go of control that much.

“Shut up.” He says it as if imaginary Mac would even listen.

One song ends, and for a second, the silence in the car echoes before the next song begins.

This isn’t working.

He reaches out to touch the button on his radio dash for the phone, then presses Mac’s number from his contact list.

“Aren’t you with your family?” She starts speaking without bothering to greet him.

He adjusts the volume so that her voice isn’t quite so loud. “Hello to you, too. I’m almost there now. It’s quiet in the car. No Conor. Not even any grouchy almost adults grumbling about saving the world, or muttering about sparring.”

Mac snorts softly. “I’m only a few years younger than you, Pawel. And out of us all, Rory’s probably got the oldest soul. I take it you’re bored?”

“A little,” he admits. “Pels’s family moved into the house on Friday, then left for Burlington. As far as I know, everything’s gone well up there; they weren’t back before I left the house today. Anita’s got my number in case she needs anything for the house while they’re renting it out this summer. Traffic’s been decent, so I’m maybe fifteen minutes from my Dad’s house now, and the silence is killing me. How’s your summer break going?”

There’s a delay before Mac replies, and her voice sounds determinedly cheerful when she does. “It’s a break. I’m thinking about my research, and the fact that my advisor is in Italy until the end of June and told me I can’t work without him there. Which means Mom thought I should come home for a while, and right now things are… awkward… with me and Dad. So. There’s that.”

When Mac says it, Dad means Senator Delwin Palmer. Pawel knows what that meant to Mac as a part of a secret government training program for Talented children, before she came to PHU. He knows that everything they learned about the government involvement in the creation of the soul-destroying Shadows has only made her relationship with her stepfather more difficult.

He makes a small noise. “Are you going back to PHU soon?”

“Mid June, so I’ll be here about three weeks. I’m going to take my brother to the festival when Rory and Thorne are in DC in a couple of weeks, and I’m spending most of my time in the museums and libraries in DC until then.” She exhales. “I’ve thought about going to see my father, but I think that’ll be the weekend that I drive back up to PHU. I’ll just stop in to visit him in the city while he’s got some time off work.” Mac hesitates, her words more forceful when she asks, “How long are you planning on staying with your dad?”

Fine, Pawel will accept the change of topic, changing conversational directions at the same time as he takes the exit into town that will lead to his childhood home.

Sort of. It’s not the same house he grew up in, but it’s close to the same neighborhood.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m on leave for the summer. It’s not a sabbatical—they don’t do that for less than a year, and right now they won’t let me go for a whole year until the department has more experienced faculty. But it’s a paid leave and I’m supposedly researching my next book. The thing is, Dad doesn’t have a lot of space since he moved into the retirement community. I’m going to be crashing on his couch. Conor’s got the bed in the guest room.”

“Sounds great for your back.” Mac laughs. “You’ll probably still sleep better than you did for most of the spring.”

“Probably,” Pawel agrees. “I think—” He stops abruptly, because that makes it sound like he has a plan in place. “I’m going to play it by ear. Conor’s made friends there, although he’s clearly missing Alan and home, too. Everyone keeps telling me that I need to just stop trying to fix things and take a break. Including a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like you.”

“Good to know my voice has infected your brain, like the way I hear yours saying ‘commit to the kick’ whenever I’m sparring and going for that head kick against a much taller opponent,” Mac says dryly.

“They’re all taller than you.” Pawel takes a series of turns, remembering to turn left instead of right at the critical intersection. He slows down; there’s no one else on the road behind him to annoy, and he’s not quite ready to arrive yet.

Mac sputters. “Rude.”

“True.”

“Fine. True,” she agrees. “Taekwondo is a sport for tall people. I’m just a good jumper, and before you say it, no, I’m not teleporting to get there. Most of the time.”

He rolls down the road towards a four-way stop. There’s a sign across the way proclaiming the entrance to Hart Acres. If he turned left, he could make his way to the police station where his dad works, and right would loop him back behind his old neighborhood.

Straight takes him into his dad’s new life in a retirement village where half the people who live there aren’t actually retired. His dad’s been living there for a year, and Pawel’s not sure when he’ll finally step down as Police Chief. He likes his work far too much to give it up.

Dad says it’s easier to keep working when he doesn’t have to worry about the little things like mowing the lawn. Hart Acres takes care of that for him.

Pawel’s pretty sure Dad’s going to work until he has both feet in the grave, and then he might just keep going.

“Hey.” Mac’s voice is low. “Did I lose you?”

Right. He was having a conversation.

“I’m just about there,” Pawel admits. “There’s an old lady walking her fluffy dog down the street. I guess I should hang up. Focus on finding the place and not hitting the two people that are in the middle of the road having a conversation.”

No exaggeration. Now that he’s pulled into Hart Acres and is following the first traffic circle he encounters around to the second exit, there are small knots of people gathered everywhere. Including two smack dab in the middle of one of the side streets.

They see him looking and lift their hands in cheerful synchronized waves.

“I am really not ready to see my dad as the kind of guy who needs to be surrounded by old people looking for a social life,” Pawel mutters. He makes a disgruntled noise when Mac snickers.

He’s in front of the house before he can say anything else.

“Go,” Mac says. “Hug Conor for me, and tell him to work hard. He’s still in school, right?”

“Another three weeks, yeah,” Pawel says. “I might take him out for a day on Friday to head up to Buffalo for Rory and Thorne’s tour, though. It’s a holiday weekend, so maybe the school has the day off—they do weird things with snow days sometimes. Although the weather was strange this winter and they might not have the extra days.”

“Nikki would apologize if you need her to,” Mac says. She’s quiet for a moment. “Hey. You really should take the time to rest. Let your dad be the parent for a little while. Enjoy being home, and with your family. You don’t have anything you need to save right now. The world isn’t ending. Just have fun for the summer.”

“Only if you promise me that you’ll rest, too,” he responds. He wants to say that he understands that it’s not that easy. He understands that talking to Delwin Palmer is going to be complicated, and that putting herself back in that environment only brings the PTSD out in full force. “You can always call me if you need someone to talk to.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m back in the area,” she says. “Maybe we can get together and spar. I’m taking a break from organized classes while I’m home.”

Her old dojang isn’t full of happy memories like Pawel’s is.

“Sure, we can do that.” He catches movement out of the corner of his eye; the door to his father’s unit nudges open. “Conor’s coming out. I need to go.”

“Bye, Pawel. Rest.”

“I will,” he promises.

The music blares for a moment after she hangs up; he turns the key and silences it. He manages to get out of the car as Conor races around it and slams into him, hugging him hard. Pawel wraps his arms around him, and exhales as he feels the familiar crackle of Conor’s magic around him.

“I missed you,” Pawel murmurs. His hand is between Conor’s shoulder-blades, and it feels higher than it used to rest in this same position. “Did you grow in the last two months?”

“An inch since he arrived.” Dad stands on the lawn next to a girl about Conor’s age that Pawel doesn’t recognize. Her mouth is pinched and her brows furrowed. She has her arms crossed tight across her chest as she leans forward, a myriad of braids falling forward across her shoulders and down her back. Dad puts a hand on her shoulder, and she straightens up, shoulders relaxing. “I started a growth door for him here. We’ll need to get a mark on it for you so he can see what he’s aiming for.”

There was a piece of trim in Pawel’s childhood house that had marks for every few months of his age, from toddlerhood to adulthood. He wonders if the new owners painted over the careful notes made in his mother’s hand, and the messier ones his father wrote after she passed away.

“I had Dziadziu put Emma on the door, too.” Conor slips from Pawel’s hold and grabs his hand, dragging him towards Dad and the girl who still watches warily. “This is Emma. She’s in my class, and she’s a Weather Witch, and she’s my friend. We’re both new here. She’s talked to Alan with me.”

“I know they’re married,” Emma says with a heavy sigh and an eyeroll. “Conor’s not my boyfriend. I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“You say that like people have been trying to tell you that you can’t be friends because you’re a boy and a girl.” Pawel stops in front of her and holds out his hand solemnly. “Hello, Emma. I’m Pawel. And don’t worry, I understand that most people are full of shit. Right now my best friend is a girl and I can assure you I have no romantic intentions towards her whatsoever. And if I did, she might kick me in the balls.”

Dad makes a strangled sound.

Emma tilts her head, brow still furrowed. “I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t say that people are full of shit.” She takes his hand and looks at their joined hands in some confusion, then drops it again. “But you’re right. They are. Come on, Conor.”

“I think you’d like Mac,” Conor says as he walks by Emma’s side and they disappear into the house. “She’s small but fierce. She used to be a gymnast and now she kicks ass.”

Pawel should say something, but he did just tell them that people are full of shit, so maybe he can cut him some slack for language this time.

“I did say that someday you’d be lucky enough to have a kid just like you,” Dad observes. “That said, Conor’s been a good kid while he’s been here. Getting good grades, getting his work done. He and Emma bonded straight off—her parents disappeared not long before you did, so they had something in common. Except, of course, you’re back and they’re not. She’s living with a foster family here.”

There are a dozen potential things wrong with everything Dad’s just said. Pawel rolls the thoughts around in his mind as he heads back to his car, opening the doors so that he and Dad can both take several things into the house. “Do they know she’s Talented?” he asks.

“You know where the guest room is.” Dad points through the living room and kitchenette to the small hall beyond. “Right at the end there. Just take Conor’s stuff down. We’ll put your things to the side in the living room for now.”

Conor pops his head out of his room just as Pawel arrives. “What do you mean for now? Aren’t we staying all summer? I thought we’d stay here all summer, Dad. Dziadziu said we could.”

There are times when Pawel wonders what their family looks like from the outside: three generations having three separate conversations in tangled instances, answering questions in random order. He can see where Emma sits on the bed, Conor’s tablet in her hands. She doesn’t seem concerned.

“I’m sleeping on the couch, Conor. We’ll stay in town, but we might need to get a hotel room. I’m going to need a bed eventually,” Pawel points out.

“I’ll move in with Emma. Her dads wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think they’d even notice,” Emma says dryly. “I like Conor better than Matt.”

“She has four foster siblings,” Conor stage whispers.

Emma looks up, gaze pinning him. “They aren’t my siblings. I’m an only child. We’re all just fosters in the same house, except Nevaeh and Jennie. I think they’re almost as good as adopted. Jennie doesn’t even remember her parents.”

For once, Pawel is the one getting whiplash from the swift turns in conversation.

“Is everyone Talented?” It’s the same question, asked a different way, and this time he throws it out there for anyone to answer. He drops the bag of Conor’s summer clothes on the bed, next to where Emma sits.

“Her dads are both Talented!” Conor bounces up onto the bed, almost knocking the suitcase off. “One’s Clan and one’s—”

“They aren’t my dads,” Emma snaps. She drops Conor’s tablet on the bed and stands up, her body shivering so hard that her braids shake. “My mom and dad are coming back. They aren’t my dads at all. I’m just staying there until—”

“My dad can find them.”

Emma’s mouth is slightly open, her voice a small squeak. “What?”

“My dad is really good at everything about Talented people. He’s an expert.” Conor nods quickly. “He’s so much an expert that he teaches people not to be stupid—uninformed,” he corrects himself, “about what it means to be Talented. He knows everything.”

“Not everything,” Pawel tries to stay, but Conor steamrolls over him.

“He just saved the world, and he’s friends with Clan and with Mages, and we know this entire commune of Mages up in Burlington and if anyone can find your parents, he can,” Conor says firmly. “You’ll do it, Dad, right?”

“I think I’d need a little more information before I can promise that,” Pawel says slowly.

“Your father is supposed to be resting.” Dad stands behind him, and Pawel doesn’t need to turn to know the look Dad gives Conor. He was on the receiving end of that look himself many times as a child. Dad continues, “The last time your father got involved in something, he disappeared and you came here.”

Conor’s mouth snaps shut, lips pressed and his cheeks flushed. “He came back,” he mutters. “He always comes back.”

Emma pats the bed and when Conor sits, she puts her arms around him and holds on. “Maybe mine will come back, just like yours did. Then your dad won’t have to go find them.” Her whisper is too loud to be entirely secret. “I don’t want your dad to disappear again.”

“Me neither,” Conor admits.

“Emma.” 

“Dziadziu!” Conor interrupts him. “Did you ask Emma’s dads—”

“They’re not my dads.”

“—if she can stay over tonight?” The sadness is gone from Conor’s expression as he bounces on the bed. “She’s got stuff in a drawer from the last time she stayed. She can get on the bus with me in the morning, and we can play games with Alan online later.” His gaze skates to Pawel. “If you say it’s okay, of course.”

It’s only been a couple of months, and Conor has somehow built himself a routine here. Pawel isn’t entirely sure how he fits into it.

It’s strange thinking about Conor growing up and growing apart from Pawel when his son is only nine years old.

“I talked to them,” Dad assures them. “But that means sleep tonight. It’s a school night, and I’ll be checking. No magic after dark. No surprise storms. No more rain indoors.”

“That was once!” Conor protests.

“Lights out by half past eight, and I want you asleep by nine,” Dad says in a tone that brooks no argument. “You’ve got plenty of time before then; we haven’t even had dinner yet. You might even be sick of each other by then.”

“Never!” Conor and Emma chorus.

Pawel has to wait for Dad to move before they can both slip out of the room, leaving the door cracked. “I’m glad he’s made friends here,” Pawel says quietly. “He and Alan are—well, I’d almost call them codependent sometimes. I was worried. But they both seem to be doing well.”

“Conor’s fallen on his feet, that’s for sure. He’s a lot like another child I once knew: just starts talking until he finds his spot to fit in. Might even have a bit of a savior complex.”

Pawel gives his father a dark look. “I do not have a savior complex. If I did, I’d have followed you into law enforcement, rather than going into academia.”

Dad smiles. “You’re still saving people. You just go about it in a different way on a daily basis. But it seems to me like you didn’t even hesitate when you found out your students needed your help. You can’t resist a puzzle.”

“Apple didn’t fall far from the tree, I get it,” Pawel mutters. “Fine, fine. We’re all peas in a pod, and a hundred other trite descriptive phrases. The Szczek men have similar traits.”

“Mm.” Dad leads the way outside, so they can retrieve the last few things from Pawel’s car. “Some of us have learned how to ask for help,” he says quietly. “Conor’s made himself at home in Emma’s foster house. He’s spent more than a few nights there, and yes, before you ask, I trust her foster fathers completely. One of them works with me. But that’s something you might want to think about this summer, Pawel.”

Pawel shoulders the backpack with his computer in it, and closes the door to his car. “What’s that, Dad?”

“You don’t have to do everything on your own,” Dad reminds him. “For the summer, you’ve got me. Think about what to do when you get home. The fate of the world doesn’t need to rest on your shoulders alone.”

It seems like everyone’s got something to say about his bad habits. The thing is, Pawel’s got help at home. He’s a single father; he knows he needs assistance sometimes. He’s got Alan’s family next door. Emily’s always willing to help out with Conor. But he’s also got… a lot of responsibility. He’s a professor, and a dean, and he leads Coven and the taekwondo team. 

Who the hell else is he going to rely on? Pawel does the things no one else is available to do.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” he says, because he knows it’s what Dad needs to hear. “I’m not going to overwork myself again. I’ll make sure I’ve got help.”

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[tamsong]

pull you from the tide - keefitz

summary: in which fitz tries to hammer it into keefe’s head that he deserves to be loved. 

notes: this is half vent, half fix-it. this my first time writing fic for kotlc since i was like 13, so let me know what you guys think?

warnings: swearing, very vague references to homophobia and bad parents

***

keefe doesn’t come home.

a week passes, then two. a month. three. everything is weirdly silent on the neverseen front, despite sophie’s daring act of burning down the waterfall hideout. it feels like time is standing still- keefe’s absence hangs heavy in the air like ozone in the hour before it rains. 

fitz has barely spoken in those three months. in another world, he might’ve been angry like he usually is. in this world, though, no one’s around to be angry at, and fitz feels like his roots have been ripped out of the ground.

at the next black swan meeting, fitz quietly asks to speak to mr. forkle alone. the black swan leader nods resignedly, like he already knows what fitz is going to ask. sophie raises her eyebrows at him from across the room. i’ll tell you later, he transmits to her, but he doesn’t plan on it. sophie’s been hurt enough, and if she knows about this and it doesn’t work, she’ll be devastated.

mr. forkle walks him down the hall. he doesn’t say anythin

“i want to go look for him,” fitz says, trying to sound confident. but he’s anything but. he doesn’t feel like anything more than the desperate, frightened child that he is.

mr. forkle opens his mouth, but fitz cuts him off. “please,” he adds. “i... i don’t know what else to do. i know he said he doesn’t want to be found, but i- we can’t go on like this. i know the forbidden cities better than almost anyone, so i might as well try. please.”

“i can’t promise you’ll find anything, mr. vacker,” mr. forkle replies. “but if it’s really what you want, i can give you a leaping crystal.”

fitz sighs. “i know. trust me, i know. but if there’s any way i can get him back, i still want to go.”

the black swan leader nods in response. “very well. i’ll meet you at everglen tomorrow morning, and i’ll monitor you to ensure your safety. now, go on and meet your friends, and put this out of your mind for the rest of the day.”

he thanks mr. forkle profusely, then does as he’s told. only a few minutes after he leaves does fitz realize that his request was granted far too easily- mr. forkle, while certainly not a cruel man, expects him to fail. there would be a lot more lecturing and protocol if he didn’t.

fitz doesn’t blame him.

***

the next morning, fitz takes the blue crystal from mr. forkle, his hands trembling. he’s dressed in the same jacket, jeans, and boots from when he first found sophie. he thought the memories would be calming, but the sense of deja vu only unsettles him, really. on that pleasant thought, fitz holds the crystal up to the sunlight and steps into its path, holding his breath.

he arrives in an empty park, hidden between two trees. freezing rain is pouring down from the sky, a sharp contrast from the eternally pleasant weather at everglen. fitz shudders, puts his hands in his pockets, and steps out of his hiding place.

he roams the streets of san diego all afternoon and evening, ducking in and out of stores, cafes, and libraries, all of it to no sign of keefe. finally, when the sky is nearly dark and the rain has slowed to a drizzle, fitz stops in front of a building with sign reading san diego youth services. he shrugs and opens the door. it’s as good as anything, i guess.

“have you seen my friend?” he asks one of the staff in heavily accented english. “he’s tall and skinny, has blond hair and light blue eyes. about my age, doesn’t speak much english.” 

the woman squints and brushes her wet hair out of her eyes. “we had someone like that come in a couple months ago, and he comes here to sleep most nights. fidgety guy, looks sad all the time?” 

fitz pulls his jacket hood further up. “that's probably him, yes,” he answers, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. may i see him?” 

she nods. deep frown lines run down her face, like she’s seen too much tragedy in her short life. “sure. last i saw, he was out back.” 

the staff woman walks fitz through the building out to a secluded area adjacent to an alleyway, protected from the public eye. fitz doesn’t see anyone at first, but on second glance spots a flash of blond from further down the alley. he hurriedly thanks the woman and dashes over, heartbeat picking up. 

he skids to a stop when he sees keefe there, sitting on a step and dripping with rainwater. he looks up, startled, at the sound of fitz’s footsteps, and his mouth opens and closes in shock once he realizes who’s in front of him.

fitz expects a snarky comment, something like well look who we have here! or wow, guess i’m famous, but keefe says nothing. on one level, it’s terrifying, because fitz has rarely ever known his friend to be silent. on the other hand, though, he gets it. even without keefe’s strange new ability that makes speaking a risk, what else is there to be done in a situation like this? two years ago, they both would have laughed if told this would be their future.

they hover there for what feels like hours, neither boy knowing what to do.

finally, fitz breaks the quiet. “hi,” he says lamely, and then slaps himself mentally. really? is that the best you can give him? 

he tries again. “keefe. i...” no. that wouldn’t do either.

“you couldn’t even bother with a goodbye?” he finally bursts out, trying to muster up the anger he doesn’t feel. this isn’t the right way to approach it either, but fitz doesn’t know how else to communicate. “did you think i wouldn’t care? sophie’s not the only one who was fucking sad, you know. biana can barely do anything but cry. dex isn’t talking to anyone, and neither is linh. even tam- i know you guys never got along, but he wants you home just as much as the rest of us.”

he shakes his head. “i know this can’t be easy for you, but we want to help you. even if we can’t, then we can find someone who can.”

“i’m not even mad, really,” fitz continues, looking up at the sky. he can’t bring himself to make eye contact. “if you didn’t care to say goodbye to me, i get it. i haven’t exactly been best friend material lately, and i wouldn’t blame you for never wanting to speak to me. but i read what you wrote to sophie, and it’s the biggest bullshit i’ve ever heard. be happy? forget about you?” he scoffs. “do you even hear yourself? i- she- we could never do that. you’re giving yourself too much credit.”

he turns around, fists clenching so hard his nails cut through his skin. “so this is my goodbye, i guess. i meant to bring you home, but you deserve a choice after everything. stay away, if you must, just know that we- i care for you, keefe. you deserve to be cared about. and if you don’t come home... i’ll miss you. i want you to know that.”

fitz finally exhales. he’s said his piece, laid all his cards out on the table. it’s keefe’s move now, and fitz will respect it, even if it fucking kills him to do it.

“fitz.” keefe speaks for the first time since fitz arrived, his voice hoarse and miserable. fitz whips back around, searching for any sign in his best friend’s face that might signal a change of heart. 

“fitz,” keefe repeats. the expression he wears is downcast and resigned. “i want to come home, more than anything i’ve ever wanted. but i can’t. it’s not safe, not for you or anyone else.”

“then tell us how to make it safe,” fitz begs. his hands twitch, desperately wanting to reach out. “anything you ask. hell, we could even hide you in my closet at everglen like the time when we were little and your dad was coming to take you home.” 

keefe’s mouth twitches, and even if it’s not a whole smile, fitz counts it as a victory. “that’s... nice of you to say.”

fitz softens. “of course,” he replies, not hiding how choked up he is. “anytime.”

keefe taps his fingers against his thigh, looking down. after a long moment of silence that seems years long, he lifts his face and speaks again. “you’re not making this easy.” his eyes gleam with unshed tears. “maybe if you make it a little harder...”

fitz’s hands move of their own accord, resting on either side of keefe’s face. the other boy’s cheeks are warm despite the bitter, freezing rain.

fitz... actually has one more card he could play. it’s one he’s kept in his pocket since the middle of level three, never shared with anyone, not even with sophie. 

there’s never been a world in which revealing it would be acceptable, but maybe things are different now. more complicated and painful, yes, but if there’s even the slightest chance that this secret could bring keefe home, then he’s willing to accept that pain.

fitz lays his final card on the table.

he kneels in front of where keefe is sitting on the step, never breaking contact for a second. keefe’s wide eyes follow him as fitz lowers himself down, his expression open and vulnerable. fitz leans in close, but pauses just inches before his friend’s lips, giving keefe time to move, time to reject him and run away.

when keefe makes no effort to resist, fitz closes the distance and kisses him.

it’s a short, soft thing, the connection as fragile and fleeting as a candle flame in a windstorm. but to fitz, this kiss is everything. it’s a representation of his enduring care for keefe, the affection that sprouted when they were children and has only blossomed since. despite everything standing in their way, fitz has loved keefe and always will.

he just hopes it’ll be enough for keefe. 

fitz pulls away, not letting himself linger too long. he resists the urge to look away, instead gazing into keefe’s eyes and smiling gently. he’ll wait as long as it takes for keefe to make his move, and he’ll respect it. he just wants his friend to know the truth.

suddenly, keefe bursts into tears.

he throws himself forward, nearly knocking fitz over. he buries his face between fitz’s neck and shoulders, his body wracked with sobs. fitz hugs him back, running his fingers through his friend’s tangled hair. keefe cries and cries, holding tightly to fitz until his sobs fade to tremors and there’s a wet patch on fitz’s sweatshirt from his tears.

“okay,” keefe finally whispers, sending shivers down fitz’s spine. “i’ll take us home.” 

keefe shifts and moves his hand up between them to fitz’s shirt pocket where fitz always keeps his home crystal. he plucks the crystal out, scans the area, and raises it up to the last dim sunlight trickling through the rainclouds. 

fitz holds keefe close as the two boys dissolve into the light, leaving san diego behind.

[crimeronan]

2020 in review

it’s been a weird year for me.

by all accounts, it Should be a bad year.  

lots of bad things happened to me this year.  i found places i adore in my new town - a certain cozy chair in the library, a corner table at a 24 hour coffee shop, a park bench in direct sunlight for most of the day - just in time to lose them all.  i started pursuing health answers in january, only for all the hospitals to close on my birthday, rendering answers impossible to find.

i waited months for the hospitals to open again, from home, unable to pursue any of the nightlife or queer meetups or community theater i’d vowed to get involved in.  eventually i found out i have scoliosis and a serious vitamin D deficiency.  i hoped to get better by treating these things.  instead the health problems continued, worsened.  i slept through most of may and november, i had intermittent weeks where i’d sleep for 20+ hours a day and be in too much pain to get out of bed upon waking.  i missed rent a few times.  borrowed money too many times.  relied on my loved ones way more than i’ve ever been comfortable with. (it’s the adam parrish ass in me.)

i developed a painful deformity in my leg.  spent stupid amounts of time in urgent care and the ER.  thought it was a dislocation due to connective tissue issues, but my x-rays came back clean.  so did an ultrasound for blood clots.  my doctor referred me to a dermatologist, who did a biopsy.  not super pleasant considering i faint when punctured with needles, but i’d already had my blood drawn and IVs stuck in me, so whatever.  found out i have an autoimmune disorder.  went from the most-perceived-as-able-bodied person in my house to the one most likely to get killed by the pandemic in the span of a single phone call.  might have a shortened lifespan, might not.  don’t know yet.  probably will know by the end of the year.

so it should be a bad year.  none of this was pleasant.  i’ve had spans of time where i’ve cried harder than i’ve ever cried in my life.  had to keep myself from calling my mom and telling her i needed her, because i knew she’d drop her job and her responsibilities and her plans to race across the whole-ass country, and i didn’t want to do that to her

but i don’t think it was a bad year.  not really.

it was my first full year living in the portland metro area.  which, don’t get me wrong, deserves some of the Cringe Hippie Liberal Anarchist Moron reputation it gets.  but it meant living in a city full of queer people and openly trans-friendly businesses.  it meant having enough healthcare providers near me that i could actively seek out ones who could treat my complex mental and physical health issues without some of the biases i’m used to.  it meant that i found an adequate psychiatrist within 10 minutes of me, an adequate primary care doctor within 20.

i used to live in rural new hampshire.  i drove 70 minutes to see my psychiatrist.  i never found a primary care doctor for physical health issues.  i would have had to go to boston, and i don’t like driving in downtown boston.  (masshole reputations are real and boston’s city planning is hell on earth.)

i also had the very strange experience of being taken seriously by every doctor i interacted with.  i am not used to this.  without getting too deep into it, i have been pretty badly scarred by experiences with having my autonomy violated because of my status as a psychotic individual, even though my fears were not psychosis-related.  also less scarring but equally off-putting experiences with being a perceived-as-woman individual whose pain was shrugged off by men as, like, normal hysterical woman agonies.  or whatever.

so, i had a leg deformity.  and doctors took me seriously.  because it was a visible, inexplicable symptom.  and because a lot of them looked at it and thought, oh fuck, this girl is dying.

(i could still be dying, i guess.  just a lot slower than they worried i was.  i’m not about to keel over from a blood clot or from my rotting bones decaying into my bloodstream.)

this has gone a long way toward alleviating my intrinsic fear of doctors.  being SICK is scary, sure, but it’s odd to be able to (cautiously) expect that doctors will try to help me instead of hurt me.

it was also my first full year living in an apartment of my own, with the family i chose.  my first full year of having my own space that i built.  my first full year of being independent, aside from the times i wasn’t.  my first full year of interacting exclusively with people who make me feel happy and loved instead of people who drain me.  and i felt better, mentally, than i have in a long time.

which is reflected in my creative work.  this was my most creative year in... ever, i think?  even though i was so sick and slept through so much of it.  even though the pandemic kept me from seeking out inspirational experiences.  i made a lot of fandom friends & got closer to friends i met last year.  i got a lot more confident in writing what i wanted to and talking about what i wanted to and not worrying about pleasing anyone but myself.

i published over 150k words of fanfic.  the vast majority of it was exploring feelings about chronic illness.  i outlined an original fiction project from beginning to end, added about 30k words to it.  i started fucking around with digital art a bit, although i have nothing even Remotely worth showing people.  i gained something like 900 tumblr followers from a combination of shitposting and earnestly talking about my feelings re: chronic illness, mental health, fictional meta.  i gave some ppl life advice that i guess was helpful.  apparently i inspired some people to survive the year, which is very weird to think about, but also very nice.

so, uh.  that’s my year i guess.  should be bad, but it wasn’t.  dunno how to conclude this so i will simply say:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[mimzy-writing-online]

What did the moment you realized/affirmed that losing your sight didn't mean losing all the things you've used to reading (ie social media/movies/books)? If you had to deal with it, that is, I've only recently followed you and might have missed something. I'm rather near sighted and my great grandmother (who raised my mom) was blind due to glaucoma not being treatable at the time. I got glasses at 9 thought I've been terribly near sighted since forever. So as a kid I used to think about maybe going blind a lot and I try to be conscious about blindness as much as I can. Reading and writing is such a major part of my life, I know I won't lose it should I lose my sight, but it's still made me hyper aware of accessibility in regards to sight.

So, I was usually okay with my vision loss as it happened. I certainly had bad days and breakdowns, but for the most part I was emotionally okay. I think a huge part of that was that I had exposure to blindness in media that wasn’t all bad rep, starting from when I was a kid:

1. My 4th grade language arts textbook had a short non-fiction story about a high school girl who was blind and what kind of changes she made, like having a cane and putting braille labels on everything. She still went to high school, had friends. There was a photo that was edited to be blurry in what I hope was a way similar to what she experienced. There was something incredible about it because to me she was just a normal person who saw differently, but her life was normal. Whoever wrote that short story did a good job if that was my takeaway at nine years old.

2. There were a few books I read around that age with disabled characters, including Of Sound Mind ( M C is hearing but his whole family is Deaf) and Things Unseen ( M C wakes up one morning invisible. While trying to solve the how and why of that he visits the library and physically runs into a blind girl. They start talking, he thinks she’s cute, it’s a romance. Cute story. I can’t remember if the girl was homeschooled or did special education, but part of her education was listening to audio books at the public library in pre-audible times. She also had a cane. I don’t remember much beyond that on accuracy)

Having books available to me as a kid with prominent disabled characters or stories about real blind people did normalize it for me

Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot of bad rep I found too, but it was easier to look at it and say, “I don’t think that’s quite right” because I had some good rep in there too.

3. At the school I attended from 7-9th grade, there was a girl a year or two older than me who was blind and I would see her every day between classes. I remember she had a cane one year, and then a black lab guide dog the next year. She also had a teachers aide going to classes with her. I remember she was in one of the advanced choir groups, but how I knew that was because in 6th grade my school took a field trip to that school to prepare us for middle school and we saw a choir performance which involved the girls singing and dancing, and after the performance my friend told me that one of the girls was blind and had a cane. (I was very nearsighted as a kid, I could not have seen that from where I was sitting)

I remember my thought process at that point, and it wasn’t “oh, so blind people can dance too.” It was, “oh, she must have worked hard to get the dancing right.”

4. There was a boy in my 9th grade English class who was blind, also had a cane and a teachers aide. I was too shy to talk to anyone, but I remember thinking he had chill vibes and that he was funny. He was one of the easier kids in that class to talk to.

That’s all the exposure I think I had before my vision loss symptoms began, which was when I was 17, though I had no way of knowing how serious those symptoms were going to become until I was in my twenties.

A big thing for comfortably transitioning (emotionally) with my vision loss was Molly Burke, who began her YouTube channel in 2015. I think I found her channel in the summer or fall of 2016, right as my symptoms began to evolve from “inconvenient” to painful, concerning, and difficult to deal with. She’s only a year older than me and while she came across more closed off and introverted in the early part of her YouTube career, she was incredibly personal and relatable. She had a career, she had lived alone in a big city, she traveled for work, and was incredibly independent.

But more importantly, she was independent because of the blindness life skills she had spent her life learning. O&M, Braille, using screen readers on her laptop and phone, shopping and picking her own outfits with a combination of touch and communicating with a sighted loved one. Having a set routine for everything, including makeup. She had her shit down because she’d practiced at it. So, reasonably, I could get my shit together if I took the time to learn how too.

Individual moments are harder to come by, but here is a distinct one:

-My first time using a cane was life changing because I wasn’t scared of my next two steps anymore and I could walk on my own again. The first moment of walking independently without anxiety was its own high, because I had taken a small part of my life and independence back.

For an essay, I would write: Through the internet, I found the disability community and blind role models who were living independent, happy lives because of the adapted life skills they learned.

I found my blind role models through the internet and studied what skills and changes they’d made to their lives and incorporated them into mine. 

(kind of a spin off on that, but it gave me the following sentences)

This meant reaching out to schools for the blind, and 

(which isn’t the prettiest sentence, but you’re looking at the first draft and my thought process. I pick the best bits and move forward with that. This whole process is me getting all my thoughts out and finding the most important details and translating them into something concise and simple)

[fangzeronos]

Love Lost Birds

This is all @xaphrin‘s fault for getting me to love this ship. Seriously, you guys go read her Shadows series. It’s so damn good! Hope this is enjoyed!

The rainy and hellishly loud nights in Gotham City drove Damian crazy. In his teens, he’d been a Titan, fighting with the people he had come to consider a family. As much as he bitched to Grayson, and even Drake on occasion, Damian missed the Tower. What made the Tower bearable was her. The way her eyes sparkled in silent laughter at something Logan or Reyes would do, the small smiles she would give him, or the way they worked together.

 Then she disappeared, days before her birthday with nothing explaining why or where she was. He’d felt her disappearance before not seeing her, and even knocking on her door before bursting in confirmed the empty feeling in his stomach. He had sat in the dark of her room for over an hour, his fingers around a note he’d never read, her handwriting perfectly done on the front of the envelope.

 He had called every magic user he knew, from Constantine to Zatanna, even in contact with Tala or even Nabu, but none of them could or would locate her. Two years of looking, trying to find his way into side dimensions, or pocket universes, always being rejected and flung back to the cold darkness of the Tower at the mention of her name.

 Retreating back to Gotham and choosing to ignore the Titans worked for a while, but when Kori was around he was forced to talk. Sometimes he despised the Tamaranian, but he could tolerate her for Grayson’s sake.

 “Damian, you know she had to have had a reason to leave,” Kori had said one night on a patrol, her flaming hair sending steam into the air in the rain.

 “Without saying anything? Least of all to you or I? I do not buy it, Starfire. I will not stop until I find her,” Damian said, dropping onto a rooftop and sliding some thanks to a puddle on the roof. He slammed his hand against the wet bricks, anger surging through him. “Why? Why did she leave?”

 Kori landed beside Damian, putting her hand on his shoulder. With his hood over his face, she couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew talking about their missing friend was troubling him and causing him grief. “I don’t know, Damian. I don’t have the answer you’re looking for. I wish I did, but…she never confided in me her reason to leave,” she said.

 Damian growled, shaking Kori’s hand off as the sound of sirens pierced the thundering skies. He jumped off of the roof, thankful for the distraction.

 Deciding to hell with the city, Damian returned to the Batcave, tugging his cape off and pulling his domino mask off at the same time. He changed out of his suit, hanging it to let it dry. “Four months of rain in this godforsaken city. I am starting to wish Freeze would just ice it over and be done with us.” He started for the stairs to the library, deciding to walk to clear his head.

 “Master Damian, you know that is not a thing to wish,” Alfred said, looking at the young man as he turned in his chair from the computer. “Oh, Master Damian. You received a message from a Jaime Reyes."

 Damian froze, turning back to Alfred. “Reyes? What does the Beetle want with me?” he asked. He stepped off of the stairs, heading to the computer. “What was the message, Pennyworth?”

 Alfred handed Damian a sheet of paper with Jaime’s message on it.

 “Hey, Damian,

 It’s been a long time, and I’m sorry we never got in touch with you in the last few years. Dick said it’d be easier to message Alfred to get to you. You may want to sit down before you keep reading, because you’re going to collapse if you don’t. Sitting down? Good.

 She’s back. She’s been back two days, and she asked us to wait two days to contact you in case she had to go again. She wants to see you, amigo. How quickly can you make it back here? Let me know.

 Jaime”

 Damien’s blood ran cold, sinking into a chair as his knees gave out on him. She couldn’t have been back. He���d have felt it. He’d have felt her again. They were so attuned to each other, he’d have known. “Thank—” he started, his voice thick with emotions. He swallowed the lump in his throat, licking his lips softly. “Thank you, Alfred.” Forcing himself out of the chair, he took the elevator to the library, heading for his room.

 Once alone, he set Jaime’s note on the desk before opening a drawer, taking the letter out, his fingers tracing the letters on the envelope. Sitting on the floor, Damian turned the envelope over and broke the seal, his heart hammering his ribs. Pulling the slightly yellowing paper out, he unfolded it and started reading.

 “My Damian.

 I can hear you yelling at Dick and Kori about where I am. Just know that I’m safe so that you all stay safe too. Please don’t hate me for leaving. It’s something I had to do in order to keep Earth safe from my father. I have to go to Azarath, learn from the Monks and hopefully find a way to stop Trigon for good.

 If I know you, you’ll look at this envelope and say that I’m coming back soon and that I’ll be there quick, and you won’t open this until you know I’m home. I don’t know how long this will take, but I hope that you find peace after my leaving. I have loved every minute we’ve spent together, from carnivals and busting up bad guys to just quiet nights watching the rain or fireworks in one of our rooms. I don’t have enough time to write out everything I wanted to say to you, and I hope that once this is over I can say them face to face.

 We’re both going to be different people when we meet again, Damian. I hope you forgive me for not telling you I was leaving, but you’d have insisted on coming with me or protesting and try to get me to stay. I wish I could stay, but doing that would endanger the world, and I can’t lose you.

 I’ll see you again. Just know that, even though I never said it before, and reading it in a letter is not the right way to say it the first time, I love you, Damian. I always will.

 Love,

 Raven”

 The letter was marked with a kiss, the same shade of lipstick Raven would wear in her suit. “Raven…” Damian closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath as he pressed the letter to his forehead, drawing his knees up. He sighed, feeling like a weight was lifted off of his chest and dropped into his stomach. Looking up as a knock sounded on the door, Damian got up, wiping his eyes.

 “What?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

 Bruce opened the door, looking at his son. “Damian? Are you alright? Alfred said you were less bitchy then usual after patrol.”

 Damian nodded, explaining about Jaime’s letter and finally opening Raven’s. “I’ll take the jet to San Francisco, meet up with the Titans again. If Raven really is back…I have to go, Father.”

 Bruce nodded, putting his hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure it’s fueled and ready for you for in the morning. We can cover Gotham until you get back.”

 Damian nodded, sighing softly. “What if this all goes to hell?” he asked. “Raven and I? I…I don’t think I could handle losing her again, Father.”

 Bruce smiled softly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside his son. “If you love someone, you’ll fight to keep them. When you found out she disappeared, I got a continuous stream of calls from Jason Blood, Zatanna, Constantine, Doctor Fate, even people like Tala, Black Adam, and Faust saying you were desperate to find Raven. You spent two years trying to find her, and if that isn’t love, Damian, I don’t know what is.”

 Damian looked at the letter, shaking his head softly. “I had the answer in my possession the entire time, but I never opened this. I thought if I did, she’d be gone for good. The fact that she’s back, after four years…? I don’t want to lose her again.”

 “Then don’t,” Bruce said. “When you see her, you talk. You find out how she’s been, what she’s been doing, tell her what you’ve been doing and how you’ve been. Then you work for your future together.”

_____________________ Leaving before dawn the next morning, Damian sighed to himself as he flew the Batwing toward San Francisco. After eleven hours in the cockpit, thankful he’d had Alfred’s meals to keep him company as well as a book from Grayson, the Titans Tower came into view.

 “Batwing to Titans Tower. Requesting permission to land.”

 “Like you gotta ask, Birdboy! Lighting up the roof!” Garfield’s voice said.

 “Thank you, Garfield,” Damian said, shutting the communication line back off before flying down and landing on the illuminated helipad, shutting the engines off as the landing struts hit the concrete. He opened the cockpit and grabbed his bag and trash, jumping down and letting it close up before he jogged across the rooftop and walked through the door.

 Walking into the main living room of the Tower, Damian was hit with the sounds and sights he’d been missing for over four years. Garfield and Jaime were playing games on the massive wall length television, Tim was on the computer and looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. He was the first to look over and see Damian.

 “Hey, man,” Tim said, getting up and shaking Damian’s hand. “Good flight?”

 “Alfred’s cooking and a book made it more bearable. If I admitted how nervous I was the entire way, none of you would believe me,” Damian said. “Where’s--?”

 “Her room,” Tim said. “Asked us to tell you and leave you two be, and only to come running if one of you stormed out and disappeared.”

 “Glad to see everyone still listens to her,” Damian said. “Thank you.”

 “Good to see you, Damian,” Tim said with a genuine smile.

 Damian smiled a little, waving to Garfield and Jaime before heading for his room. He didn’t even pay attention to where he was going, his feet on autopilot before he ended up at his door. He pushed the door open and tossed his bag on the bed, pulling his mask off and changing into civilian clothes before he walked out, sighing as he headed down the hallway. Making his way to Raven’s room, the ethereal raven emblem on the wall. Reaching his hand up to knock, the door slid open.

 “You don’t have to knock,” Raven’s voice said, a light turning on and illuminating the room. She was floating over her bed, cloak on the mattress and her legs crossed in her usual pose. Her hair was longer and drawn into a ponytail, her cloak the same but in white, and she’d lost the leggings, leaving her bare legs to the elements.

 “It’s polite,” Damian said, walking in and letting the door shut behind him. “Especially after not seeing someone for four years.”

 Raven nodded, floating down before letting her feet land on the floor. “You never read the letter, did you?” she asked, meeting Damian halfway in the room.

 “Not until last night,” Damian said softly. “If I read it…it would have made it permanent in my mind. I thought if I didn’t read it, I’d wake up and you’d be here. But every day for a year, that dream was always shattered. I couldn’t stand it after two years, moving back to Gotham and leaving all of this behind.”

 Raven smiled softly, putting her hand on Damian’s cheek softly. “I thought about you all the time,” she said. She watched him close his eyes and lean into her touch, the tough as nails Grandson of the Demon turning into a gentle giant around her like he always did. “Never went a day without hoping you were okay or thinking about a rainstorm and sitting here watching the lightning, tea in our hands.” She reached down and took his hands, feeling his warmth spread through her. “I missed you.”

 “I missed you,” Damian said softly, squeezing Raven’s hands. “Four years and nine months, Raven. Four years I wondered if I’d done something to you, something to make you leave without explaining. I thought you hated me.”

 “Never,” Raven said, shaking her head. “I could never hate you, Damian. I left to keep you safe. You and the other Titans. When my eighteenth birthday came, I woke up with a burning on my skin. I knew exactly what it was, and I knew I didn’t have time to explain. I’d written that letter the night before, knowing you’d find it the next day. I packed and left the minute I’d woken up. The burning was my father’s mark, signaling the day arrived I was supposed to destroy the world.”

 Damian sighed softly. He didn’t know why, but he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Raven’s waist, pulling her toward him. He felt her arms go around his neck, and he buried his nose against her shoulder, the familiar scent of jasmine and lavender filling his senses. “Don’t leave me again,” he said. “Please.”

 “Never,” Raven said softly, tightening her arms and closing her eyes. “Four years was long enough without you.” She smiled, holding tightly to Damian.

 After a few minutes, the pair stepped back, Damian putting his hand on Raven’s cheek. “You were right about one thing.”

 “Just one?” Raven asked with an amused smirk, cocking an eyebrow.

 Damian rolled his eyes and smiled softly. “The letter. Reading it on a page isn’t the same as hearing it,” he said. “I love you, Raven. I always have, and the last four years have been torture on my heart, not knowing if you were dead or alive, or even if you were safe. I’d gotten so used to feeling you around me, that when you disappeared I was empty. I was never satisfied or happy without that connection. Nothing I did filled that hole in my chest.”

 Raven smiled, putting her hand on Damian’s and turning her head softly, kissing his palm. “I know,” she said. “I wish I had explained before abandoning you for Azarath.” She took his hand and intertwined their fingers, enjoying his warmth against her skin. “I love you, too. I won’t leave you behind again. Not ever.”

 Damian smiled softly, leaning forward and kissing Raven, pulling her against him again and looping his arm around her waist. “Good,” he growled lowly, his tone sending a shiver through Raven’s spine that settled in her hips. “You do, I will not stop until I find you and I will punish you.”

 Raven kissed Damian back, her chest heaving from the force of the kiss and his threat of punishing her. “Mm…what did you learn in four years?” she asked with a smirk, backing up toward the bed before sitting down, watching him stalk forward.

 “You’ll have to find out,” Damian said, leaning down and kissing Raven again before she pulled him onto the bed, flipping him to pin him to the mattress. “Gotten stronger, my love.”

 Raven smiled, straddling Damian’s hips before leaning down and kissing him again, threading her fingers through his. “I also learned some new ways to play with my magic. Nights on Azarath got very boring,” she said, grinding her hips against Damian’s slowly, cocking an eyebrow as she teased him.

 Damian laughed, looking up at Raven. “Well. Looks like we’ve both got some new experiences to share with each other.”

 “That we do,” Raven said, kissing Damian.

 Neither Damian or Raven knew what the future would hold for either of them, but as long as they were together, they knew they could face whatever demons, both figurative or literal, that came their way.

[purrincess-chat]

Kill Em With Kindness CH2

Thank you all so much for 3.5k (and growing)! You are all so wonderful, and I’m glad that you all enjoy my content enough to stick around and follow. I have a lot of plans for the future, and I just hope that you all will like them! Here is part two of this next spite filled adventure.

The opening scene and really this whole fic were inspired by lenore’s post from forever ago after Chameleon came out so shouts out! Also, I know several of you wanted me to tag you when I updated this, and I will do my best to get everyone, but I suggest getting an AO3 account and subscribing to the fic there instead. You’ll get an email whenever I update, and I always post on AO3 first before tumblr. 

Read on AO3

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Chapter 2

“You know, when you made these plans with Adrien, I thought you meant to be nice,” Tikki said chidingly in the bathroom as Marinette washed her hands several days later.

“I am being nice,” Marinette said with an innocent pout.

“You put a ‘Coping with loss’ book on Lila’s desk yesterday.”

“She said her hamster died.”

“And the safety glasses by the napkins in the cafeteria?” Tikki cocked a brow.

“Max was worried about losing an eye.”

“You did your science presentation on tinnitus.”

“Well, after the music festival with Juleka’s mom, I was worried about our hearing.” Marinette snatched a paper towel from the dispenser and dried her hands.

“Your history report on the greatest liars and cheats in history?”

“I became fascinated with P.T. Barnum’s life after that movie and finishing with a comparison of Volpina and Rena Rouge was just a modern-day example everyone could identify with.” Tikki gave her a look. “I got a standing ovation for that presentation.”

“What about the fact-checking robot you petitioned Max to make?”

“For Alya for her birthday! I’m just trying to help her become a better journalist because I’m a good friend.” Marinette placed her hands on her hips haughtily.

“Speaking of Alya, you’ve been telling her to just hang out with Nino lately.”

“She said she wanted to spend more time with him. I’m just being supportive of their relationship,” she shrugged.

“Marinette,” Tikki sighed.

“What? We can’t expose Lila, so we’re just playing along until she inevitably exposes herself which I will watch probably with popcorn,” Marinette said with a laugh. “It’s called kill em with kindness.”

“It’s called being petty.”

“Semantics,” Marinette waved it away, but Tikki was unamused. “Look, I can’t beat Lila at lies. She just makes more, so I’ve come up with another plan that doesn’t harm anyone and keeps everyone from getting mad at me for calling her out. I mean, you saw what happened the other day when she got me expelled. Scarlet Moth almost made a comeback, and I was on the frontlines.”

“I guess we can’t let that happen again…” Tikki reasoned, tapping her chin.

“Exactly. Lila wants everyone to believe those things, so I’m just gonna let her keep falling down the rabbit hole until she eventually hits the bottom,” Marinette said with a twisted grin. “If I happen to push her a little deeper along the way then so be it.”

“That’s very underhanded of you, Marinette.”

“I don’t like it when people use my friends and threaten me.” Marinette clenched her fists. “She almost got me akumatized multiple times now, and we can’t ever let that happen.”

“You’re right. Just be careful,” Tikki advised.

“Don’t worry, Tikki. Coming up with solutions is my superpower.” She winked as her phone buzzed in her pocket with an akuma alert. “Speaking of, we have a city to save. Tikki, transform me!”

***

“Ladybug!” Alya waved her down after the battle, brandishing her cell phone. “Do you have time for a quick interview?”

“A little,” she said with a shrug. “Make it quick.”

“Okay, okay, many of my viewers want to know what advice you have to help people stay positive to avoid being akumatized,” Alya began, pressing record.

“Well, I would recommend changing your perspective a little. Instead of being bummed out about failing a test, maybe commit to studying harder next time. If you get into a fight with your friends, just take a deep breath and remember that if they’re your real friends, they’ll forgive you.” Ladybug replied, placing her hands on her hips. “And if you do get akumatized, don’t make a big deal out of it. Chat Noir and I will always be there to save you. Negative emotions are a part of life just like positive ones, and everyone can have a bad day, even me.”

“Next question, with the passing of Hero’s Day, my viewers want to know what they can do to help you and Chat Noir.”

“Just do your best every day. Lift each other up instead of tearing each other down and do your best to help others who need it,” she said with a smile.

“My friend Marinette is like that, always helping others and helping us stay positive,” Alya remarked, and Ladybug bit back a smirk.

“I think I’ve met her a few times. She’s alerted me of a few akumas here and there.” She tapped her chin with a coy smile. “Not everyone has superpowers like me and Chat Noir, but there are a lot of ways to help out in your school, in your community, or even in your own home just like your friend. I think that everyone should strive to be a Marinette.”

She pressed a hand to her earrings as they beeped and palmed her yoyo, flashing Alya a peace sign. “Gotta go before I change back.”

“Thank you for your time, Ladybug!” Alya bounced on her heels, clutching her phone to her chest as Ladybug tossed her yoyo over the roof.

“Bug out!”

***

When Lila walked through the doors of the library that afternoon, she stopped short when her eyes locked with Marinette’s sitting at the table with Max. They held that same taunting innocence that made Lila’s blood boil, and she knew this was another one of her “nice” schemes.

“Oh, Lila, there you are,” she greeted with a smile, and Lila did her best to suppress an eye roll. “You haven’t been doing so well in class, so I’ve asked everyone to pitch in helping you catch up. Max is here to help you with your maths and science, Rose has agreed to help you with Literature, Sabrina can help you out with history, and then Nathaniel said he would be more than happy to help you with the art project we have due next week.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. Adrien agreed to help me,” Lila said, waving it away. “He should be here any minute.”

“Actually, he had a pop-up fencing lesson with Kagami this afternoon. She insisted because her mother is so hard on her to improve her technique, and Adrien is the only opponent who challenges her enough, so he just couldn’t say no,” Marinette explained.

“Adrien does score well across the board on all of his exams; however, his schedule guarantees an 87.96% chance that you won’t get sufficient help in order to pull your grades up in time, so Marinette reached out to the rest of us to step in on his behalf so you don’t fail the semester,” Max stated, and Marinette smiled sweetly beside him.

“As class representative, I’m just looking out for the needs of everyone,” she said, standing up. “Thanks again for your help, Max.”

“No problem, Marinette.” Max waved it away. “Oh, and I will have prototype designs for that software you asked me for later this week.”

“Awesome! You’re the best, Max!” Marinette clasped her hands together cheerfully. “Good luck, Lila, and let me know if you need any more help.”

Lila offered her a forced smile before her face fell into a scowl.

“Have fun at movie night!” Max called, waving as she left.

“Movie night?” Lila quirked a brow.

“Yes, many of our classmates are convening to watch movies at Kim’s house this evening, but seeing as it’s a movie I’ve already seen, I agreed to help you catch up on your studies tonight instead,” Max explained, pulling out his textbooks. “I’ve assembled 100 maths problems for us to work covering each section of material that you missed while you were traveling then I have a PowerPoint reviewing over our particle physics unit from last term-”

Lila glared at the door Marinette had gone through, gripping her pencil with white knuckles. She wasn’t quite sure what game Marinette was playing with her, but she was definitely up to something. No matter, she wasn’t about to be defeated so easily. After all, she had Gabriel Agreste on her side.

***

“How did Lila react to Max?” Adrien asked as Marinette grabbed a juice from the snack table.

“She looked half ready to strangle me,” Marinette replied, popping the tab and taking a sip.

“There isn’t going to be a lot I can do if my father decides to use her in photoshoots again, but I’ll help you in any way that I can outside of that,” he said, grabbing a cookie.

“What are you two whispering about?” Alya asked with a smirk, and they both stiffened.

“Uh, I was just asking Marinette if she wanted to sit with me during the movie,” Adrien said, nudging Marinette with his elbow.

“Y-Yeah, I- of course. You don’t mind, do you, Alya?” Marinette fumbled, and her friend gave a proud beam.

“Not at all. I was actually on my way to tell you that I want to sit with Nino.” She winked.

“Great. Then it’s settled.” Adrien waved as they moved to their bean bags.

“How did she sneak past your father anyway? I thought he was some impenetrable wall?” She asked, and Adrien threw his head back with a sigh.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Is it wrong I kind of wish she’d teach me?” He chuckled, popping a popcorn kernel into his mouth.

“Your dad let you come to this, didn’t he?” Marinette pointed out, but Adrien averted his gaze guiltily.

“I’m technically supposed to be meeting with my Chinese tutor right now, but I may have told him I lost my voice while also telling Gorilla that this was his address,” Adrien admitted, tapping his chin with an impish grin.

“Sneaky,” Marinette complimented, but he curled his shoulders.

“I feel kind of bad disobeying him, but all I want to do is see my friends. What’s so wrong with that?” He shrugged, and Marinette offered him a smile.

“Nothing, and I’m sure your dad will come around eventually,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Marinette. I really hope so.” He smiled weakly, his gaze softening on her. “You really are the kindest girl at school. Lila won’t know what hit her.”

Marinette bit back a smile, cheeks pink and heart pounding.

“Ya know, Adrien, maybe if your dad ever allows it we could-”

“Lila, Max, you made it!” Kim called, and Marinette felt her blood run cold.

“I’m a really fast learner,” Lila said, shooting Marinette a pointed glare, and her jaw clenched as Nathalie entered through the doorway beside her. “Oh, Adrien, I ran into Nathalie on the way over. She was worried about where you were, so I told her we could check here for you.”

“Adrien, you’re supposed to be at Chinese right now,” Nathalie scolded, and Adrien stiffened, face falling. “If you come now, I won’t tell your father about this.”

“Yes, Nathalie,” he said glumly, shooting Marinette an apologetic wince. “I’ll see you at school.”

“I’m sorry, Adrien. I didn’t realize you’d get in trouble.” Lila winced, pressing a hand to her lips in an ‘oops’ manner. “Nathalie said your father was worried.”

“It’s okay, Lila. It’s my fault,” Adrien said as he passed, head hung low as he made his way out with Nathalie.

When the door closed behind them, Lila curled her shoulders and turned to everyone with a pout.

“I’m sorry. I feel like I ruined everything. I didn’t realize that Adrien was here without permission,” she said, covering her face.

“Don’t sweat it, Lila. You didn’t know,” Nino assured her, and she peeked over her hands.

“I hope he doesn’t get into too much trouble,” she fretted, but Nino waved it away.

“Nah, Nathalie totally sticks up for him. If she says she won’t tell, then she won’t,” he said, and Lila relaxed a little.

“That’s a relief,” she sighed.

“Well, since Adrien had to bounce, why don’t you take his seat next to Marinette? You two have been getting along so great lately,” Alya suggested, pointing to the empty beanbag beside Marinette, and Lila flicked her gaze to meet Marinette’s with a grin.

“Do you mind, Marinette?” She asked, a challenging glint in her eye as if to say, ‘your move.’

“Not at all.” Marinette smiled sweetly as Lila paced over to sit down, and her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text from Adrien.

Well, looks like we have our work cut out for us.

Marinette glanced at Lila out of the corner of her eye, chatting with Rose about Kitty Section before typing a quick reply.

So it would seem.

*sigh here we go*

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