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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years ago

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(The Bad Batch) Preferences-Carving Pumpkins

(Author’s Note: Ahhh, I had so much fun writing these!!! I’m super excited for autumn, and I just needed an outlet involving our awesome squad

Warnings: Squash being butchered, pumpkin guts....Oh, and some smooching).

Wrecker:

“Hey, sweetie?” Wrecker asked, and you glanced up from your selection of pumpkins. He stood very still as his eyes flickered back and forth between two very large pumpkins that you were sure you wouldn’t be able to lift. He stroked his chin in contemplation.

“What’s up?” You folded your arms as you stood next to him.

“Which one looks bigger to you?”

You knelt down, dedicating several seconds to observing each pumpkin and taking mental measurements. They were nearly identical in size. “That’s a tough one. They both look the same size to me, but if I had to choose which one I thought was bigger-” you pointed “-I’d say that one.”

Wrecker stared at the pumpkin for a few moments before nodding. “Yeah,” he agreed slowly. “I’d say you’re right.” He immediately knelt down and set to work on cutting through the stem with his viroblade. Meanwhile, you had also reached a decision on a pumpkin, and asked your love if he wouldn’t mind picking it for you. Wrecker was happy to oblige, cutting the stem with his viroblade and gently handing the freed pumpkin over to you.

The others had already picked theirs and were heading over to the benches to clean and carve them. You and Wrecker carried your pumpkins over to the nearest empty bench, claiming your tools. Wrecker’s huge pumpkin took up half of the table.

“So what are you going to do with your pumpkin?” you asked as you cut through the top of your pumpkin and proceeded to clean out the insides.

“It’s a surprise!” he replied enthusiastically.

You lifted a brow, but smiled. “In that case, mine’s a surprise too.”

“How about we do a big reveal when we’re done?”

You nodded. “I like that idea.”

As you began to carve your design, it was hard not to notice the occasional chuckles and snickers as Wrecker set to work on his pumpkin. Every now and then, he’d take a few steps back to look at it, huff out another fit of laughter, and then return to the project. You were growing increasingly interested in what his would look like, but still kept your eyes on your own pumpkin. Finally, both of you finished your projects and got ready for the big reveal.

“Alright, on the count of three?” you prompted.

He grinned. “One...”

“Two…”

Both of you shouted, “three!” and spun your pumpkins around to face each other. At the sight of Wrecker’s pumpkin, you burst into laughter. It was a very silly face with big eyes and a wobbly smile, but it was carved so well, so precisely, it looked like a meme from the holonet.

“Okay, that’s funny.” You laughed.

“Yours looks good, ________!” he said, giving you a playful nudge.

“Thanks.” You turned to smile at him, and he pulled you into his strong arms. His breathing picked up as he leaned into your space for a tender kiss.

“I wanted to kiss ya’ so bad a few minutes ago,” he told you, “but I didn’t want you to think I was trying to sneak a peek at your pumpkin before it was ready.”

You returned the kiss, lingering over his lips for a moment as you murmured, “well, you don’t have to worry about that now.”

Crosshair:

“Will this work?” he asked for the third time, though there wasn’t an ounce of impatience in his tone.

“No, it needs to be more slender,” you decided with a shake of your head. “And maybe just a tad taller?” Crosshair backed away from the pumpkin he’d offered, eyes scanning the patch in search of one that better fit your description. He knelt down, pushing away some leaves to reveal a pumpkin that was taller and thinner than the other one.

“How’s this?”

You knelt down beside him, narrowing your eyes as you tried to picture how your design would look. It looked great in your mind. Now, it was time to make it reality. “Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

Crosshair unsheathed his viroblade and swiftly cut the vine, detaching the pumpkin and handing it to you. “There you go.” You accepted it sweetly, unable to resist kissing him in appreciation for the gesture. He hadn’t even questioned you on the design or complained once, only set to work on helping you find exactly what it was you wanted. You waited for him to choose a pumpkin, which was a shorter process, before the two of you walked over to the nearest bench.

You set to work on emptying the pumpkin of its guts, glancing over every so often to watch Crosshair at work. Once in a while, he’d catch your gaze and notice the mischievous smile that you tried so hard to hide.

He paused, straightening up from his task and fishing out a toothpick. “What?”

“Nothing,” you replied. “Oh, uh… Can I borrow one of those?”

He lifted a brow, but said nothing as he pulled out another toothpick and passed it to you across the table.

“Thanks, Cross.” You lowered your gaze, but it did nothing to hide the glint in your eye as you continued working on your pumpkin carving. Crosshair returned to his project, though he still kept an eye on you. At one point, he smirked at how absolutely giddy you looked.

Finally, your pumpkin was complete. You placed the last finishing touch, the toothpick, where it needed to be and stood back to admire it. Crosshair’s was done moments later.

“So, let’s see what we have here,” he said, motioning for you to show him. You grinned and turned the pumpkin around, revealing your handiwork. You had chosen the pumpkin’s shape with purpose. It was the perfect canvas to carve Crosshair’s face into it, complete with the crosshairs tattoo over its right eye and a toothpick sticking out of its mouth.

Crosshair exhaled sharply in amusement, his expression so cocky and strangely attractive as he shifted his stance. “That’s a handsome pumpkin,” he commented.

“Glad you think so,” you said. “What does yours look like?”

He chuckled, placing a hand on the top of his pumpkin to spin it around. It had your face, and it was well-carved too.

That’s a pretty pumpkin,” you told him with a growing smile. He met your gaze with amusement dancing in his.

“Glad you think so.”

Hunter:

Hunter cut your chosen pumpkin from the vine, handing it to you with care. “There you go, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you said.

While you had taken your time in picking out the pumpkin you wanted, he wasn’t choosy and ended up taking the one closest to yours for himself. Both of you went to one of the benches and set to work. Apparently, Hunter was more interested in the carving part. You paused to watch him take one of the tools and expertly cut the pumpkin open to remove the insides. You found yourself resting an elbow on the table as you observed the sergeant, your pumpkin nearly forgotten altogether in the moment.

Hunter caught your eye, smiling when he realized you’d been watching him. He twirled the carving tool between his fingers and gave a playful wink. Your face heated up as you pulled your pumpkin closer to your end of the table to begin working on it.

“Need some help?” he asked, mistaking your momentary distraction from your project as uncertainty.

“No, I’m good. I just needed a minute to think about my design,” you said, which was also true. “I’m not so helpless, Sergeant.”

The use of his title in such a playful tone made him chuckle. “Didn’t think you were, sweetheart. I just can’t help it.”

You rounded the bench to plant a kiss to his lips, and he welcomed your touch with arms going for your waist instantly. “I know,” you murmured, letting him know that you took no offense. “You’re just so used to helping everyone else. I like that about you.”

He exhaled, and there was no missing the slight tremble of his body. You pulled away and headed back to your side of the bench to continue carving your design. Every now and then, you couldn’t resist glancing over to watch Hunter skillfully carve the numbers “99” in a large aurebesh font into his pumpkin with the signature skull symbol at the top right.

“Your design,” he spoke up, peeking over. “Looks good, ________.”

“Why, thank you. I like your Bad Batch pumpkin,” you replied.

Tech:

“Are you certain this is the one you want?” Tech asked. You nodded at the chosen pumpkin, and he cut the vine to hand it over to you. “There you are, love.”

“Thank you, Tech,” you said.

“It is no trouble at all. Now, the trick will be finding the right one for myself.”

You knew how particular Tech could be about things, but you didn’t realize how seriously he would take the endeavor of selecting the “right” pumpkin. Even so, you waited patiently, your own pumpkin in hand, for several minutes as Tech browsed rows of the patch. You loved him for who he was, but it was hard to wait quietly anymore. At one point, you had to set down your pumpkin because it began to weigh heavily in your arms.

“What exactly are you looking for?” you asked. Perhaps you could help the process along.

“I’m looking for the pumpkin with the most aesthetic appeal- good color and symmetry are important.”

“Oh, okay.” You knelt down, pointing. “What about this one? It looks like the kind of pumpkin you’d see in a fall article on the holonet.”

He followed your gaze, adjusting his goggles. “I saw that one already. It is indeed a good pumpkin, but still not quite what I’m looking for.” You shrugged and kept looking, but none that you saw were even as nice as the first one you’d pointed out. Finally, you heard an exclamation from farther down the row.

“Ah, I found it.” Tech had been kneeling down to inspect it before making the commitment of picking it. He approached, leaning in to give you an apologetic peck on the cheek. “Sorry it took so long. Thank you for waiting.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled. “I’m glad you’re happy with your pumpkin.”

Both of you went over to the benches to begin prepping the pumpkins for carving. The rest of the squad were nearly done with theirs already, but everyone was talking and joking around, so there was no rush. Tech chatted about varieties of squash for a few minutes as you worked. He paused every now and then to admire your design out loud and relocate some of the tools closer to your side of the bench since he had a tendency to hog them.

“Do you have everything you need?” he asked again.

You nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Good, good.”

You walked over to his side of the table. “Do you mind if I look?”

“Not at all. Mind you, it’s not quite finished yet.”

You were amazed to see a little fall scene carved into the pumpkin, complete with a barn, a scarecrow, and a bare tree. “Wow, Tech! This is great.”

“It’s still not done,” he reminded, as if that should make you less impressed.

“It really looks great though,” you insisted, cupping his cheek and angling his mouth toward yours for an affectionate kiss. That seemed to get his attention, drawing it away from fussing over what he saw as an incomplete project. His eyes gazed at you softly through the large lenses, and his lips turned up in a smile.

“I’m having... fun,” he said, arm tightening around your waist.

“Me too.”

Echo:

Echo cut your pumpkin from the patch swiftly, passing it to you, before taking a short walk down the rest of the row. It wasn’t long before he found one that was decent-looking and knelt to cut the vine.

“How fun is this?” you asked happily, carrying your pumpkin as you walked beside him on the way to the benches.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a smile. “Me and the boys did this once on leave.” he chuckled. “Jesse got in trouble for throwing pumpkin innards at Fives.”

You laughed at the mental image. “That sounds like a good time.”

Echo shook his head, though a chuckle escaped his lips. “If Wrecker starts throwing pumpkin guts...”

“Knowing Wrecker, that very well may be a possibility.” The two of you got settled at the nearest empty bench. You glanced over to see Wrecker was indeed tossing some pumpkin insides in Crosshair’s direction, earning a grumbled “grow up, Wrecker” from his teammate. You stifled a laugh and set to work on emptying your own pumpkin. You and Echo worked side-by-side, absolutely content with the proximity despite bumping elbows often.

Your heart sped up while the rest of you felt simultaneously relaxed at his side. There was a happy calm that settled between you because you were simply together. Yet, every time he glanced your way with that sure gaze, it nearly made you shudder.

“Looking good,” he commented, pausing to get a better look at your nearly-complete pumpkin carving.

With lips curling into a smile, you asked, “Me, or the pumpkin?”

Echo chuckled. “Both.”

You leaned in to press a light kiss to your boyfriend’s jaw. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He seemed momentarily dazed from the unexpected gesture, but he soon looked at you with a mischievous glint. “Now, was that aimed at me, or the pumpkin?”

You laughed.

“I’m being serious,” he deadpanned. “Because if I misunderstood, then this next part will be very embarrassing for me.” He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in for a longer kiss, his lips caressing yours in a way that nearly made your knees buckle.

“So embarrassing,” you murmured teasingly. You separated to continue your projects, shoulders still touching. His pumpkin carving was a typical face with triangle eyes and a gaping smile, but it was done very well. “I like your pumpkin,” you said.

“Thank you, m’lady. I like your design too.”

“Thank you.”

Omega at the Pumpkin Patch: She takes the process seriously, spending quite a bit of time choosing the right pumpkin for what she had planned. The others were curious because she chose a pumpkin that was much wider than it was tall, and she kept it angled away from the group as she worked. Anytime someone would venture over to check her progress, she’d quickly stand up in front of it to block the view.

After she finally beamed and announced she was done, everyone gathered around to see she had carved an image of the entire squad into the pumpkin.

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thr-333 · 4 years ago

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Just Another Class Trip :) Part 6

Marinette goes on a nice peaceful trip to the pool. Me? sarcasm? how dare you sir!

First< Previous >Next

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

“Did you find what you were looking for Marinette?” Kagami asks oh so foolishly.

“Kagami look into my eyes and ask me that again,” Marinette dares, her eyes red rimmed with bags underneath bigger than Chloe's luggage.

“... You found your glasses?”

“Never mind,” She sighs, finishing the rest of her coffee, “At least that one isn't missing,”

“I thought you only wore them as M-you-know-who,” Chloe whispers, a purposeful look towards Lila’s posse leading the way to the bus.

“Just wanted to try them out without a mask,” She brushes off easily, she needed to be able to transport back to Paris at any time after all.

“Oh it was just terrible!” Lila cries, capturing the attention of everyone surrounding her.

“Did she finally hear a recording of herself?” Chloe scoffs, making Adrien shush her and Marinette crack a smile.

“This Starling kidnapped and tortured me for information,”

If only I had

“Luckily Batman was there to save me, but I knew he would be,” Lila croons, the class fretting over her all the while, “He was probably searching furiously the second I didn’t return his call,”

“When did she get Batman’s phone number?” Chloe whispers to her.

“No idea, think she’d give it to me?” Marinette smirks.

“Oh sure I bet it's 3825968,” Chloe laughs at her own joke.

Marinette doesn't get it but Kagami starts laughing, so she moves to stand next to Adrien while they share a moment.

“Any idea?”

“Not really,”

They reach the door going through it to find Gotham in the nice peaceful state it's always been.

Just kidding, lights start flashing in their faces and everyone around them is yelling. Lila of course tries to take this opportunity to get attention. To Marinette's great delight they push right past her, and to her horror opt to shove a million microphones in her face.

“Miss Wayne were you adopted?!”

“Yes but-” the cameras start flashing and the yelling increases tenfold.

“When?! How long ago!?!”

“A baby I guess?” She hadn't known her birth parents after all.

“How have you stay'n out of the public's eye for so long?”

By not being like Lila for one

“Mari I don’t think you’re talking about the same thing,”

“Yeah thanks, I’m getting that Adrien,”

“Adrien Agreste? Are you two dating?!”

“Great,” She ignores them, instead whispering to Adrien, “From now on Buttercup will be your codename,”

“Cool,” He leans in to whisper in her ear, “But I don’t think that’s helping things,”

It’s at this point the cameras are going crazy taking a million pictures of the two whispering in each others ear, while Kagami and Chloe try to push them all back. The class follow behind just as confused. Madame Bustier is trying to reason with the crowd, trying to . They reach the curb, fighting not to be pushed onto the road by the crowd. A limousine pulls up and for a wonderful second Marinette thinks Liam has come to save her, the wonderful manager he is. Instead Alfred steps out, surprising to say the least. He ushers her inside and tells the rest of the class the bus will be through momentarily. Marinette slides into the car right next to Bruce Wayne… well.

“Hello again, I um…” Marinette thinks back to their last meeting, “I don’t think I actually told you my name,”

“No you didn’t,” Bruce chuckles, “And Selina has been avoiding me ever since,”

“Sorry, well I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng Auntie Selina’s niece,” Marinette shakes his hand, “She didn’t tell me she was engaged,”

“Bruce Wayne, Selina didn’t tell me she had a niece,”

“Yeah, that's a bad habit isn't it?”

“Indeed,” Bruce pauses, both trying to reach for a conversation topic, “So you like fashion?”

She had said she would design her aunts wedding dress. She should probably double check that with the groom, whoops,

“I do I already sketched out some designs,” She takes out her sketchbook which has a good thirty pages dedicated to wedding dresses, “Oh you were probably going to hire a professional designer weren’t you?”

“We were considering MDC,”

“.... I think that’ll work out just fine either way,”

“Hm,” Bruce looks curiously at her as she hides away her sketch book, she would be using those designs either way.

“Anyway!” She changes the topic oh so subtly, “About those reporters…”

“Theres a certain rumour running rampant that you are a Wayne, after someone took a photo of you with my son at the airport,” Bruce explains, switching over to business mode in a heat beat, she could appreciate that, “We’ve been doing our best to contain it, but…”

“At the airport…” She mutters to herself, “Oh! Tim’s your son, that explains Alfred, that must mean Dick is too!... work at Wayne tower, yeah very funny,”

She tries not to roll her eyes at their understatement of the century, wasn't Tim Drake a CEO there?

“Impressive, have you met Damian too?” Bruce asks, a slight smile that would have called Kagami expressive.

“Not yet, but should I invest in a bingo card?”

“Maybe so,”

They fall into silence Marinette would usually hold polite conversation but her thoughts were in turmoil. Lila didn’t seem to know anything about the miraculous then again her interrogation was cut short by a certain someone . However Tikki had advised her against placing all the blame on Lila, she needed to consider other options as well. But who else could it be? she was in Gotham Hawkmoth couldn't reach her… unless he somehow...

“Marinette are you alright?”

Marinette startles look over at Bruce who is blurred by tears. She hadn't even realised she’d been crying.

“I-I’m sorry,” She hiccups trying fruitlessly to wipe away the tears, “I-it just…”

“It’s ok,” Bruce rubs her back comfortingly, but boy did he choose the wrong words.

“IT’S NOT OK!” Marinette yells not looking at anyone in the car, they didn’t matter, nothing else mattered, she had failed and people were going to suffer for it, “I left it behind! It’s all my fault! Now it’s GONE! It’s been stolen and I don’t know where it is!”

“What was stolen?” Bruce presses, getting over the shock of the polite and put together girl melting down into a puddle of sobs.

Now I’ve gone and messed up, time for a classic cover story and some half truths

“A good friend of mine gave me a very important jewellery box,” Marinette sighs, wiping the tears away and rebuilding herself, “It was stolen shortly after arriving in Gotham and I’ve been trying to find it,”

“Do you know who stole it?”

“I thought it was one of my classmates,” Marinette frowns, they should have certainly been there by now, “Still do honestly,”

“Which one?”

“Lila probably,” Marinette tries to keep her tone neutral, tries, “Brown hair that looks like sausages,”

Marinette could almost see the words ‘oh fuck’ written across his face.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, we have arrived,” Alfred speaks up for the first time, not leaving her time to puzzle over the reaction, “Your class arrived some time ago,”

“How did that happen?” Marinette frowns, they should have arrived ages ago.

“Alfred must have taken the scenic route,” Bruce shrugs, acting like an innocent party in all this.

“Well then I guess I’ll see you for the wedding,” Marinette tries not to rush out of the car, certain her class or rather Lila would have caused some grief by now.

“I’ll make sure to send the invites to your family personally,” Bruce promises, shaking her hand before she can run off.

“And I’ll make sure Auntie Selina doesn’t destroy them,” Marinette smiles back brightly, she can see the concern for her all over Bruce's face but doesn't have time to reassure him.

Marinette walks into the indoor pool, knowing her luck the class was already inside. They were and the owner was not happy about it.

“First your class was late then you waltz in here late as well?” The manager berates her.

“I’m sorry sir,” Marinette tries to seem more sincere but her tardiness falls short on the things she has to worry about now.

“That class mate of yours came an yelled at me that one of our pools were dirty so we had to drain the whole thing,”

“Let me guess, sausage hair?” Marinette raises a bow, it really being all the energy she can put into the action.

“Yes,”

“Sorry sir I’ll talk with her,” Marinette promises, she slips into the changing rooms as they grumble about lazy employees.

There is absolutely no way Marinette was going to talk to Lila. She enters the changing room, a shower running somewhere. She tucks Tikki and Kaalki into her bag, Tikki had insisted she relax today, recharge and get ready to find the miraculous. She couldn’t find enough will to argue not after having to wake up in the middle of the night to fight an Akuma back in Paris.

She slowly changes into a red and orange ruffled one piece swimwear. She honestly just wanted to take a nap in here, hide away from the class and the well meaning questions from her friends. Instead she drags herself towards the shower, they are all open and there's someone towards the back standing underneath the spray in their bathers.

Something fires back at her to be careful, it puts her on edge but with miraculously potentially loose in Gotham city it’s no wonder her instincts are screaming at her. Instead she steps under the spray hoping to loosen up.

She doesn't, after standing there for ten minutes she still can’t relax. Maybe it’s the cold water, maybe its the other person. The were still standing there, they had been in the shower even before she entered the changing room. Marinette peaks over, they are still standing still, with their arm out… the same way they had been ten minutes ago.

“Are you ok?” Marinette calls, no answer, not even a twitch.

Marinette creeps over. They are standing stock still, she can’t see evidence of them so much as breathing.

“Hello,” Her voice echoes off the tiles, not a noise in the empty room besides from the shower running.

She is right behind them, they haven't even moved, arm still raised. She walks around to see their face. Frozen in a look of concentration, not so much as blinking with water running into their eyes. She follows their eyeline to see them peeling off dead skin from their arm, stretching towards their fingertips. There's a faint glow of yellow all around them, concentrated at their back.

Marinette steps away, walking out the showers, she closes the nearest door to find herself in the pool area. Her friends are on the other side. Kagami is dunking Adrien as Chloe waves her over. Marinette sprints over to them.

“No running!” The life guard yells.

But that doesn't matter, all that matters is that there is someone using the bee miraculous for evil, she has to stop them before they get another Hawkmoth. They probably have the whole miracle box! She'll need the back up.

“Mari-”

“Come with me,” She doesn't let them have another question helping Adrien out of the pool.

She pulls them along despite Chloe's protests, pushing them through the door.

“Mari what's-”

“Hush now Buttercup,”

“You were serious?” Adrien gasps, Chloe just giggles.

“Yes,” She walks over to the frozen body, “Look at this,”

“Whats-” Chloe pokes them, immediately recoiling, “The fuck?”

“They’re frozen,” Kagami does the same.

“We have to help them,” Adrien waves in front of their face, looking on in horror.

“We have to hide them,” Chloe pokes them again, getting slapped away by Kagami.

“We have to find the culprit,” Marinette races at the idea that this could be the Bee miraculous.

“We’ll do all three,” Kagami decides, getting their attention, “Now first let's put them in a stall so we don’t alarm anyone or the villain, then we need to look for clues,"

They all nod, Marinette turns the water off. Adrien tries to move their arm to no avail.

“Looks like we have to carry them,” Adrien suggests, he and Marinette each taking an arm.

“Ew, no I’m not touching it Buttercup!” Chloe cringes away, backing up as Kagami lifts a leg off the ground.

“Has that really stuck?” Adrien asks Marinette, as Kagami sends Chloe a powerful enough death glare to get her to help.

“You bet Buttercup,” Marinette grins, as they shuffle through the changing rooms to the toilet stalls.

“Fine then, I’m calling you Cupcake,” Adrien teases, sticking out his tongue.

“As you wish Buttercup,”

“Someone get the door,” Kagami commands.

“I will!” Chloe lets go of the leg, the body becoming no heavier.

They manage to fit them inside the stall without too much hassle.

“Who could have done this?” Adrien looks on sadly at the person, tilted at a slight angle to fit into the stall.

“I’ve been thinking,” Marinette speaks up, “If this is a villain it doesn't make much sense to attack a random person, and if they were trying to be stealthy they would have hidden the body,”

“They aren’t dead!” Adrien says aghast.

“Exactly, why wouldn’t a villain just kill them?”

“That's very dark of you Cupcake,” Kagami says, missing Adrien’s pout, “What’s your theory?”

“This is likely a new villain, one not ready to kill,” Marinette decides, not even blinking at the nickname, “They have something against the pool, they probably want to ruin its reputation,”

“You did say that this was a very safe pool for Gotham,” Chloe closes the stall door, “Minimal murders, so why would someone want to ruin it?”

“Insurance? Sick of their job?” Marinette’s eyes go wide in realisation, “The pool!”

She darts out the changing room the others close on her heels.

“No Running!”

“Where are we going!?”

“The manager said they were refilling the pool,”

“Why- oh my god,” Chloe gasps, overtaking the lot of them, “Run faster!”

They burst into another pool room, the pool noticeable empty with diving boards on the other end. They run to the edge of the pool. A frozen body wearing employee uniform frozen at the bottom the water slowly rising.

“Get them out! Get them out!”

Marinette jumps down into the pool, causing a splash, the water is up to her ankles, barely a centimeter from covering the person at the bottom. She runs over and tries to pull them up. Kagami makes a splash behind her running over to help. They drag the person, frozen in horror the yellow focused on their chest instead. The pool is far too deep to climb out of so they pass the body up to Adrien and Chloe.

“Who would do this?!” Adrien can just reach them when Marinette and Kagami lift the person over their heads.

“I heard the manager mutter about lazy employees,” Marinette gives one last push, Chloe and Adrien pull them up over the edge.

“So we have a suspect,” Kagami says, water rising up her leg, “We should check their office next,”

“Well, they went from no murder to yes murder in record time,” Chloe huffs, the employee safely to the side.

“It’s concerning, but they may have more of a grudge against them than the other person,” Marinette points Kagami towards the ladder to get out.

“More evidence towards the manager,” Kagami nods, letting her up the ladder first, “We should choose codenames if the manager is potentially familiar with us,”

“They did have the class roster,” Marinette nods along, then grins, “You should be Teacup!”

“Fine by me,” Kagami nods, not showing how happy she truly is with the nickname.

“Oh I want to be-” Chloe cuts herself off head snapping towards the door.

They hear scratching at the door, everyone tenses. Marinette crouches in a position to defend her friends. The door slowly creeps open and… a little snout pokes through followed by the rest of the dog.

“Is this what you wanted to see Cuppy?” A person wearing a lifeguard uniform follows in a second later.

“Excuse me is your dog named Cuppy?” Marinette plasters on a fake smile quickly pulling a nearby towel over the body.

“Yes it’s a weird name I know,”

“No! It’s perfect! On another note could we please borrow your dog?”

“Um... sure?”

“Thank you, we have to go! Careful the pool is empty!” She calls as they race out the room, the person tucked away out of sight, “Come on Cuppy!”

"NO RUNNING!"

The dog wags its tail following them out the pool area and through the changing rooms. They come to stand outside the staffroom door, dripping water on the carpet.

“Everyone ready?” Marinette asks, hand on the door, they nod and Cuppy lets out an 'off', the door slowly creaks open.

Marinette looks through to see, nothing, the hallway is desolate and dark.

“It’s safe,”

“You call that safe?” Adrien pokes his head through the door, followed by Chloe and Kagami.

“Be brave Buttercup be brave,” With that Chloe pushes him into the corridor.

They creep along the empty hallway, footsteps echoing around them. The manager's office door could be seen at the end of the hall. Gold color plate glinting in the few stray beams of light filtering through. Marinette could feel every hair stand on end, danger seeming to lurk from every shadow in the dark hall. The pressure of something ready to pounce and immobilise them at any moment hung heavy in the air, dragging them down into a pressure that-

“HIC!”

Everyone jumps out of their skins, Adrien actually hits the ceiling, rubbing his head on the way down. Kagami draws her sword, Marinette falls into a defensive position.

“Hic!”

“Chloe!

“I’m sorry! Hic! It’s not like I can help it! Hic,”

“Thats it! You’re Hiccup!” Kagami snaps, Marinette tries not to snort.

‘What?!” Chloe screeches stamping her foot, “No way!”

“Deal with it and lower your voices!” Marinette shouts, Cuppy barks along, “Not you too Cuppy?”

Another yip

“Traitor,”

“Cupcake stop picking fights with the dog and lets move on,” Adrien implores, still rubbing his head.

Marinette rolls her eyes speed walking to the manager's office before the tension rises again. The reach outside the door, Marinette counts down to three on her fingers and they burst through the door.

Inside is silent, the bright light blinds them for a second, she shuffles in front of her friends acting as a shield, waiting for them to adjust. When she does she sees the desk chair is turned away, Cuppy pads forward Marinette doesn't grab his collar in time.

He starts licking someone's hand, Marinette creeps around the desk, waiting for the hand to snap out and grab her. The others follow, surrounding the chair preparing to come face to face with the villain. She peeks around the edge they are sitting there, she freezes the others following her lead. A beat, another one, nothing. They’re frozen.

“It’s not the manager,” She relaxes, patting Cuppy’s head.

She lets out a sigh, releasing all her tension.

BAM

Turning around the door is slammed shut, a striped villain standing before it. They all drop into a fighting stance watching for the stinger on their right hand. Cuppy starts wagging his tail, trying to approach the villain.

“Cuppy no,” Marinette grabs his harness, bringing the Pitbull back.

“He’s my therapy dog,” The villain growls, Cuppy wagging his tail happily.

“Not a very good one is he?” Chloe sneers, looking the villain wearing her stripes up and down with disgust.

“Wait, you’re the lifeguard at the pool?” Marinette gasps, maybe she really shouldn't have run, “Why did you-”

“I work here, you can’t imagine the horrors I face every day, people are disgusting,” The villain shudders, this was the guy who stole the miracle box?

“Yes, but murder?” Kagami gets a nod from Chloe and hissed at by Adrien.

“My co workers are completely useless and the boss always yells at me,” A sinister smirk crosses their face, “Or at least they did,”

“So you thought murder before you thought quitting ,” Adrien points out, probably not the best time to imply a villain is stupid.

“I didn’t kill anyone,”

“Ah yeah thanks to us!”

“Shut up!” They lash out at Chloe, stinging her in a single strike.

“Run!” Marinette shouts, they all scatter.

Marinette dodges the first swipe, ducking down. They get distracted by Kagami lashing out. Marinette darts around them to get closer to the door, Kagami gets hit. Marinette reaches the door the villain comes after her, they are inches away. Adrien leaps in front of her, getting stung. With the distraction Marinette bursts out the door Cuppy on her heels.

“Traitor,” She sprints down the hall, “Did you know?”

Cuppy happily pants beside her. She can hear the villain banging around the corridor behind her and runs faster. She dodges into a room around the corner, hiding among the pool noodles. She sees the shadow pass under the door. Pause. She holds her breath intently watching the shadow, she has no one, not even Tikki. He heart beat rises, she can feel her breaths shorten, this is it, this is it, this is it, this is-

Something nuzzles her hand, she looks down to see Cuppy. He starts to lick her hand, letting her relax into it, focusing on him as the shadow continues on. With a sigh Marinette starts to take off her skirt, flipping it inside out to the cape side.

“You aren't going to tell anyone about this are you?” Marinette asks Cuppy, right before pulling up her mask, he lets out a happy bark, “Good boy,”

She sneaks out the room, looking up and down the clear hallway. She walks the opposite way of the office. She doesn't need to see her friends paralysed, she just needs to help them, she just needs to fix her mistake.

She reaches the pool area, hiding behind a lounge chair, watching through the slats as the villain gathers everyone together. Starling sneaks closer, Cuppy on her heels. There are several civilians, locals if their calm demeanour is anything to go by, although they do seem uneasy at an unknown villain. Her class is significantly less calm.

She had told them time and again that there was no coming back in Gotham, no miraculous cure. It seems for once they had decided to listen to her. Unfortunately they did not do well under pressure. Lila of course was aggravating the situation, making empty threats. The villain reared up to silence her and man, Marinette could relate.

“I don’t suppose I can wait a minute can I?” She whispers to Cuppy, he settle a paw on her knee, letting out a quiet whine, “I guess that’s a no,”

She runs up behind the villain, signalling the civilians to be quiet. Lila looks down at her, anger flashing over her face. Starling bears her teeth right back, she can just try it. Lila ultimately decides her life is more precious than petty revenge, a hard choice for her to be sure.

Starling stands up to her full height behind the villain tapping them on the shoulder. They turn around in surprise, to find her dazzling smile. But the real thing that makes them see stars is her right hook. As the fall Starling rips the bee miraculously right out of their hair, their transformation falling. Marinette stands above them as they detransform, Pollen hiding behind her. It makes her stomach churn watching them detransform, looking up at her with fear. The twisting of her insides lessens when Cuppy nuzzles up next to her. She busies herself with hiding the miraculous away.

“It’s them!” Lila screeches, ah now she can get to that petty revenge, “The one that kidnapped me!”

“Look what you did,” Staling bites instead, looking down at the villain.

“I had nothing to do with this!” Starling is highly entertained when Cuppy growls at Lila, actually getting her to back off.

“Sure you didn’t,” Starling openly rolls their eyes, grabbing the villain and hauling them up by their shirt, "Where is the rest!"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" She scowls, making them whimper, guess they really didn't know,

Shit

"Where did you get this?" She holds up the miraculous.

"I found it! it was just lying out on the street!"

Shit

"Did you see any others?!"

"No!" the blubber swearing by it and begging for mercy.

Shit

The police sirens can now be heard, Starling drops them and runs from the room.

“NO RUNNING!” She turns on her heel and glares down at the villain, “... sorry, it’s a reflex,”

She nods running from the room to change, grabbing her bag with Tikki and Kaalki on the way. After a small celebration at finding another miraculous and reunion with Pollen, they have to make a plan to find the other miraculous. They are cut short when sirens are heard outside. She wears the Bee miraculous under her ponytail, to keep it hidden from view.

When she is ready she goes to find her friends. They are outside talking to the police. Marinette only gets the chance to signal she’s ok before being intercepted by officers to get her statement. When she’s retold her account of trying to find the pool freezer she is finally allowed to check on her friends.

“Hey Cupcake, glad to see you missed all the fun,” Chloe teases.

“Sorry Hiccup,” Marinette looks her in the eye deadly serious grasping each shoulder, “You were an adequate shield,”

“Shut it,” Chloe pushes her away playfully.

“Teacup, Buttercup are you alright?”

“It was nothing,” Kagami assures.

“Didn’t you guys think their powers were a lot like Queen Bees?”

“You would know Hiccup,” She nudges Chloe playfully, “If it was I think we should keep that to ourselves, wouldn't want that information somehow getting back to Hawkmoth,”

She looks purposefully towards Lila, the others nod along.

“Still some random person now might have the miraculous,” Chloe glares down at the ground, “Can we really trust this Starling person,”

I mean no I'm operating on negative six hours of sleep, but also yes

“I don’t think we have much other choice,”

“Marinette,” She freezes at that familiar, low gravelly voice.

“Batman, sir,” She adds, trying to look like someone who wasn't chased down by him yesterday, “How can I help you?”

“I heard you knew the most about this villain,” How did she get in trouble for interrogating Lila when this is how he talks to civilians.

“Not really I just found someone paralysed and tried to find the culprit,” Marinette shrugs, hoping her friends wouldn't point out that she is lying to The Batman.

“You didn’t call the police,”

Well thats a good point, not that I would have

“... To be honest it absolutely did not occur to me,”

“These abilities were spontaneous and now they seem to be gone,” Batman points out, damn he already knows too much, “Do you know what caused this?”

“I do not,”

“Very well,” Batman nods turning away, “Go to your class,”

“Yes sir,” Marinette walks away far too quickly.

How was she going to search the city with that hunting her down?!

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

Taglist

@smolplantmum @flufflepuffle296 @dawnwave16 @caffeinetheory @g-arya @Maribat-2k20 @ladybug-182 @Actual-disaster-human @fusser90 @messrs-weasley @soap-lady @paintedhope7 @zeneralla @mochegato @random-nerd-3 @clumsy-owl-4178 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @too0bsessedformyowngood @certifiedbidisaster @Purplegeekypanda @awkward0ghostfan @theymakeupfairies @tikki-marinette @insane-fangirl-of-everything @elmokingkong @inarachi02 @slytherinhquinn @moongoddesskiana @dast218 @buginetye @redscarlet95 @biodad-bruce-month @hansa-12 @waiting247 @toodaloo-kangaroo @how-to-fuction-properly @trippingovermyfeet @greekmythgal @whatthefox22 @the-alice-of-hearts @bigpicklebananatree @indecisive-mess-named-me @nalu-ismyjam @deepestobservationwombat

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cutest-bug · 4 years ago

Text

Interview with Adrien Agreste! Subject: The Oxygen Project.

Conducted by Alya Cesaire

Ok so I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this addition to a post I made on my main blog about Adrien low key trashing the Agreste brand the way Robert Pattinson does Twilight. I know it was meant to be more of a goofy idea but my head is full of angst and this is what I came up with at 4 a.m. lol.

Alya smiles warmly as Adrien settles into the seat across from her.

“Are you ready?” She asks. He gives her a slightly nervous smile but nods. She nods to Nino who hits record and Adriens face immediately smoothes over into a pleasant and unreadable mask. It’s actually a little freaky to watch.

It’s a Monday afternoon and they’re set up in the art room during their lunch period. Adrien looks as perfectly neutral as always. Non flashy designer labels and tousled hair that probably took 20 minutes to style. For once though, his actions will be a little less perfect and easy to swallow.

“Hi Adrien, thanks for agreeing to an interview on the Ladyblog, I’m glad we could finally do this.”

He smiles and considers for a moment before answering, tiling his head a degree, “The pleasure is mine Alya, especially since I’m the one who approached you about doing this.”

That’s true. Right after the class joined Mylene and Ivan for their protest of the Oxygen Project Adrien asked to speak with her. He was upset that he had been tricked into modeling for the project without knowing what it was for. While most of his die hard fans had gotten wind he didn’t support it, he wanted to farther remedy the situation and use his position to reach a wider audience. Of course there weren’t many platforms he could do that on behind his fathers back, hence asking for Alya’s help.

“Still, I know interviews aren’t your favorite. Otherwise I probably would have asked you a while ago.”

Adrien smiled again, a little more genuinely (the one she knew Marinette was so fond of), “I don’t really like probing questions from journalists about my personal life. The fact that you’ve never asked or taken advantage of knowing me means a lot. I trust you.”

“Personally I think it’s a little crazy you have to do all of those interviews at all. You’re only 15, your life shouldn’t be so public.”

Adrien lets the smile fall several degrees. It’s deliberate, he’s letting people see his discomfort, “Well, it kind of goes hand and hand with all of the modeling. I’m the face of the Agreste brand.”

Alya nods and looks down at the papers in her lap, “Which is the point of our interview today, really.” They had agreed on what was and wasn’t to be talked about before hand, however they don’t have a planned out dialogue. They agreed that they both do well with more organic conversation, and it’s important the interview comes off as very genuine.

Adrien nods in agreement and Alya continues, “Now that the plan for the Oxygen Project is officially canceled, it’s time to clear up what your involvement with the promotion of it was. Nearly everyone in Paris saw the ads that ran.” Unfortunately it had been to late for Mayor Bourgeois to cancel the first few days of ads. For nearly a week Adriens face played on every television in the city, telling everyone about what a great breath of fresh air the project would be.

Alya hands him the first photo in her lap. It’s of him with the class after they first arrived at the protest, looking interested but not particularly emotional yet. It’s from the video that she filmed, but there was a pretty low view rate on the protest coverage. The interview with Adrien will probably get anywhere from 3 to 5 times as many.

“What not everyone realizes is that you were present during the planned tree cutting ceremony and following protest. So what was going on for you at this point in the day Adrien?”

“Our whole class had just gone to the park to support Mylene and Ivan, our friends who lead the protest. Right after we arrived Mylene started arguing with the Mayor about whether the project was good for the environment or not.”

“That girl has a hidden fire!” Alya adds, “I have a section dedicated to activism on the blog now. The video from the whole day is there but I also posted some smaller segments explaining the conflict and a few more that Mylene recommended on how to get involved.”

Adrien gave his most genuine smile yet, “I watched those! I hope your viewers take the time to check them out. I know the super hero fights are exciting, I mean I’ve been glued to your blog from the start, but I’m glad people like Mylene and Ivan are reminding us to keep our eyes on the big picture too.”

Alya nods, “So am I. Ok, it was during this argument that the ad was first shown correct?”

Adrien lets the smile fall completely this time, “Yes. Apparently the plan was always to air it for the first time during the tree cutting ceremony. It was also the first time I’d seen it.”

“I’m sure most of our viewers have seen it already, so I’m not going to play it now,” Adrien shoots her a grateful look, “Adrien, she says kindly, “I remember how surprised you were when the ad played. Do you want to tell everyone why?”

Adrien looks down at his hands, “I hadn’t known what the ad was for when I filmed it. I thought it was another one of those silly perfume commercials.” Alya isn’t sure if him saying “silly” was a slip up or on purpose but she struggles not to laugh.

“Did someone tell you it was a perfume commercial or did you just assume when you were given the script?”

“I was told it was for perfume.”

“Can I ask who by?”

She thinks the discomfort is genuine this time. Everything else is the video isn’t that bad, but this line could bring hell for him.

“My father told me it was.”

This isn’t news for Nino or Alya but she pauses for a long moment to let viewers digest that before asking her next question, “Do you know why he lied to you?”

“I suppose he thought I wouldn’t be ok with doing it otherwise.”

Alya smiles, a little proud, before handing him another picture. She’ll edit them into the screen for viewers to see later, “Well he thought correctly. Here’s a picture of you standing with Mylene and our friend Marinette, forming a physical barrier so the trees wouldn’t be cut down,” she pauses for a moment while Adrien examines the picture, “I gotta say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry.”

“I had just found out my image was going to be used to promote an anti-ecological plan that would harm our city. My friends had spent months trying to prevent it. I was furious.”

And Bam! As soon as she posts this video Adrien’s empty head, pretty face, good boy persona is shattered. He just admitted to having feelings. Angry ones. Directed at his father. Not to mention opinions on political matters. That is not the pretty face most of Paris is familiar with and fawns over.

“I’d be angry too,” Alya sympathizes.

Adrien puts the photo down and looks at her with a serious expression, “That’s the main reason I wanted to do this interview. For better or worse I have a lot of sway with my fans and public opinion. There’s still some controversy about the Oxygen Project being canceled so I want to be very clear that I do not stand with it,” he looks directly into the camera, “The oxygen project would have only helped the people profiting from it. The only ethical solutions for our city, and the whole world, are complicated, long term, sustainable options that will protect and rejuvenate our planet. No one has said it better than Mylene and Ivan so please go check out those videos under the activism section. Help if you can, and spread the word about the truth. It’s important that people know when they’re being lied to by a corporate campaign.”

Alya realized she stopped breathing for a moment because oh my god that was so good. She manages to quietly clear her throat and thank Adrien for the interview again. He plasters back on his polite smile and they give a brief hug before she gestures to Nino to stop filming.

“OH MAN! That was awesome!” Nino pulls Adrien into a one armed hug and doesn’t let go.

Adrien smiles a little bashfully, “You think? It wasn’t to much?”

“No way Adrien,” Alya cuts in, “the whole thing was great but that bit at the end? Amazing. Mylene will be thrilled.”

Nino pulls away from their friend a bit and clasps his shoulder, “Are you going to be ok though? Your old man is not going to be cool with like, any of that, is he?”

Adrien purses his lips and shrugs, “Don’t worry about my dad, I can handle him.”

Alya can see the fake nonchalance a mile away. Marinette is the queen of it after all, so she tells him, “Adrien this is really brave of you but I just want to make sure you know you’re in charge of this narrative. I probably won’t finish editing everything until tomorrow because I have a project to finish tonight. If you change your mind there’s no hard feelings. Or if there’s something you decide you want left out I’ll work some editing magic.”

Adrien smiles but her words don’t seem to relieve any tension, “Thanks Alya, it means a lot. By the way, where’s Marinette? I thought she was coming?”

“She’s probably just got caught up with something but I’ll see if she messaged me.” Alya checks her phone and realizes she left it on silent after the test last period. No texts from Marinette, but there is an akuma alert which explains her absence. She tries to ignore the immediate twinge of worry.

Adrien suddenly looks up from his own phone and rushes to grab his bag, “I actually got to go, my dad wants me home until the akuma attack is over. Best keep my head down until the bomb drops tomorrow right?” He rushes out before Alya or Nino can respond.

Nino sighs after his best friend runs out, “It’s so unfair he’s having to rectify his dad’s bad choices.”

Alya takes his hand, “I know. Something tells me this won’t be the last time he does so either. We’ll be there to support him though.” Her boyfriend gives her a soft smile and she kisses him on the cheek, “Come on, I want footage of that akuma fight.”

Nino glances down at his phone, “Actually it looks like the fight just ended a minute ago.”

“Wow that was short. It couldn’t have gone longer than the ten minutes we did the interview with Adrien for.”

“You’ll catch the next one,” he grins at her, “one way or another.”

She laughs, “okay turtle boy, let’s go get some lunch before we have to head back to class.”

They run into a slightly dejected Adrien on the way. He gives them an interview smile. They all find Marinette and get lunch. They keep the conversation light and avoid talking about the bomb Alya’s going to post tomorrow.

This is self indulgent. I really need Adrien taking some control of his life and standing up to his dad. Yes it’s painful but it’s so important that Adrien puts some distance between them in the public eye before Gabriel is revealed as Hawkmoth. I’m just hoping that can actually happen in canon but I have many fears this season.

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #mega leech #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #theres adrienette is you squint lol #im going to be honest i don't think there's anywhere this is a perfect fit chronologically in the season #it's just inspired by mega leech and the general trend of the season #with adrien becoming more and more frustrated #and that hopefully leading to him taking more action in his personal life #i hope i hope #my post #my fic

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ginger-bread-official · 4 years ago

Text

A ‘Girl Dad’

Cygnus Black was powerful, influential and a softy when it came to his girls.

Words: 6845

Ted made sure to keep his wand pointed at his father in law as he reached into his brief case and pulled out what he came all this way to show the old man. He slid the manila folder across the desk.

“Whats this?”

“Open it.” Ted ordered. The wizard did as he was told, finding several pictures in the folder. “Her name is Nymphadora Druella Tonks. Your granddaughter.”

Cygnus Black never found his passion at the ministry. He was a conservative member of the Wizengamot and served his constituents faithfully; upholding the rights of Purebloods. He hated the bureaucracy and the squabbling politicians, but he had purpose. A purpose that maintained the influence, power and safety of his family. Yes he hated his work, but who else was going to do it.

He was returning from a particularly productive committee meeting, feeling his mood improve, when he spotted a wizard waiting outside his offices. The man had sandy blonde hair that was styled up in a messy quiff, light skin that was adorned with a smattering of freckles, and a tall lean frame. He wore green professional robes and carried a small brief case that sat at his feet. Cygnus entered his offices and addressed his assistant,

“Any messages?” He asked.

“The Malfoy estate sent an owl, I assume about personal matters.” She handed him the unopened letter, “Your campaign manager sent a list of guests for your fundraiser to approve and the bloke out side is here for a meeting on behalf of the Potioneer’s Union.” Cygnus raised an eyebrow in questioning.

“The Potioneer’s Union?”

“I think it has to do with a campaign donation.” She replied.

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ask?” She shrugged in response. She really was useless, and if the councilman didn’t owe her father a favor she would be out on her ass last week. “Fine, well what’s his name?”

“Edward something.” He sighed in defeat, he was going to have to go into this meeting blind. Determined not to let her incompetence ruin his good mood he instructed for her to send him in. He entered one room deeper to his office. Settling just as the young man entered.

“Hello, I’m Cygnus Black.” The councilman gestured to the seat in front of his desk, “My assistant tells me you’re with the potioneer’s union.” The young man sat opposite and nodded in affirmation as the office door closed behind him. “Whats your name?”

“Edward Sir.” He responded.

“Any last name?”

“Thats a little more difficult Sir.” Edward said evasively

“Whats your business with me Edward?” Cygnus asked feeling his patience start to wear. There was a beat of silence where the young wizard took a deep breath.

“Well I’m actually here on more of a personal matter sir.” Cygnus narrowed his eyes at this statement. “I am with the Potioneer’s union, but they don’t have any business with you.” Cygnus felt a cold feeling crawl up his spine at Edward’s confession. Was the councilman in danger? “I used my position in the union to get a meeting with you.” There was another beat of silence. The older wizard looked to where his wand was sitting out of arms reach. He needed the wizard to keep talking so he could reach for it.

“So you used the union to get me alone.”

“Yes. I just needed a few minutes to show you—” Edward reached down to his briefcase allowing Cygnus to lunge for his wand and aim it at the boy, but his old age was no match for the agile young man’s reflexes.

“Sectum—” Cygnus didn’t finish the spell before the young man cried out

“Expelliarmus!” The councilman wand flew out of his hand. “I was hoping we could be civil about this.” Edward now held both their wands.

“Civil about you assassinating me?!” Cygnus roared.

“Assassin—NO! I just came here to talk.”

“Why would you lie to get a meeting with me only to talk?”

“Because it was the only way you would see me!” The both paused, looking at one another. Cygnus saw the desperation in the young man’s eyes.

“Whats your name boy?” He asked again, his question penetrating the heavy silence around them. Edward took a deep breath, gathering his courage,

“My name is Edward Tonks. My friends call me Ted. I’m a Muggle-born and married to your daughter Andro—”

“Don’t you say her name.” He spat out. As soon as he heard the boys full name he knew who he was. That name had been the one that tore his favorite daughter from him. It was the name she declared love for. Love over her own family. There was a silence a silence that seemed to bare the weight of all of Cygnus’ rage. This filth had taken away his baby girl, his beautiful, brilliant Andromeda. “Get out!” He snapped. But Ted remained. “Are you deaf?! I said GET OUT!!” He stepped towards the boy, but Ted raised his wand.

“No! I wanted to talk as adults, but I guess we’ll have to do it the hard way.” Cygnus was enraged that he raise a wand against him, but what could he do? “I only need a few minutes. I don’t need you to respect me, I don’t even need you to speak, but you’re damn well going to listen to what I have to say.”

“You think you can hold a member of he Wizengamot at wand point and not suffer consequences?!”

“I don’t care about the consequences, and I don’t give a shit how important you think you are. You’re going to sit and listen. You’ll have to excuse my rudeness, but you’ve put my wife through hell and I have no patience left for your bullshit!” There was a tense moment where Ted thought the older man might charge at him, but he sat; sending daggers with his stare. Ted made sure to keep his wand pointed at his father in law as he reached into his brief case and pulled out what he came all this way to show the old man. He slid the manila folder across the desk.

“Whats this?”

“Open it.” Ted ordered. The wizard did as he was told, finding several pictures in the folder. “Her name is Nymphadora Druella Tonks. Your granddaughter.” Cygnus’ eyes fell on the baby in the pictures. A feeling welled up in him, one that drove away every ounce of pain and rage he was feeling a moment ago. He was a grandfather. His Andromeda was a mother to a beautiful baby girl. His eyes were glued to a picture of the mother holding her new born. He remembered the day each of his girls was born and how elated he was at the sight of them. His focus moved to a picture of the infant sleeping peacefully, then to one of her first bath, then one of her smiling and wiggling in her onesie. In as his eyes traced over her pudgy baby features a strange thing happened. Her hair in the picture changed color. What was a replica of her mothers chestnut hair was now a light peach color.

“Her hair.” He commented not knowing how to put what he just saw into a question.

“She’s a metamorphmagus.” Ted explained. Cygnus looked up to make sure he heard right. “We took her to St. Mungo’s to be sure.” Ted confirmed. Merlin’s pants that was a rare ability. His granddaughter was a metamorphmagus! He could hardly contain his pride. Ted lowered his wand and continued, “I know you don’t approve of me, but she is your granddaughter, and if you’d like to meet her I can arrange it so I’m not there. It can just be you and Andie.” Cygnus was only half listening as he was too enchanted by a photo where every time she blinked her eyes changed color. “She doesn’t know I’m here, but I know it kills her that you haven’t met Dora.” She looked like Andromeda, he thought happily remembering how his daughter had the same pert nose. “If you wish to tell Durella too I’m sure Andie would—” He came to the final picture in the file. It was a group of people. He recognized His daughter, her husband and of course his granddaughter, but there were two older people. The man was clapping Ted on the shoulder with a sparkle of pride in his eye and the woman had her full attention on the baby in Andromeda’s arms.

“Who are they?” Cygnus Black asked holding the picture of the group.

“Those are my parents.” Ted explained. I all came crashing back down on the old wizard. These people were muggles. The filth in front of him was a mudblood and his daughter was defiling the Black bloodline with vile unpure blood. This baby was not a ‘Black’, but a halfblooded freak that would tarnish the family name. He closed the folder with the pictures and slid it back across the desk.

“She is no granddaughter of mine.” He said cooly. Ted’s hopeful expression faded and his shoulders fell.

“I know its not what you wanted for Andie, but she is your granddaughter. She’s half Black.” Ted pleaded.

“No.” Cygnus rose from his chair. “My daughter forfeited her heritage and the right to that family name when she chose to slum it with a mudblood.” He could feel the pain of losing Andromeda all over again, “She is not my daughter and this is not my granddaughter.” He waved the file in Teds face.

“Please. I know you burned her from the family tree, but she’s still your daughter, she still loves you and if you would just—”

“No! I’m through listening to a filthy mudblood. That blood traitor is not my daughter and this freak—this mutt is not my granddaughter.” He shoved the file back at Ted. The new father let the folder fall to the floor as he whipped his wand back out. With a fire that he’d never possessed before, he hurtled the desk between the men and pushed his father in law back into the chair. Ted’s wand was pressed into the old mans throat and could feel the tremor of fear and see the shock in Cygnus’ eyes.

“You want to call me a mudblood, fine. Call your daughter a blood traitor, she’s heard worse. But don’t you ever insult my baby girl.” Cygnus felt the end of the wand dig painfully into his skin, “She’s a blessing, a gift. And you’re not worthy to utter her name.” There was a moment, a dark moment, where Ted thought he might actually kill Cygnus. End the pain he’s caused his wife and all the bigoted bullshit he spreads. But he couldn’t be a good father from Azkaban. He settled for stunning him and leaving him to drool on his collar.

Tonks picked up the folder with the pictures of his daughter having to search on the floor for one or two that fell out. He found the last one under his chair and gazed onto the image of his Nymphadora. It was the picture of her smiling and changing her hair. Ted could have sworn he saw the old man soften when looking at this. He looked up to the unconscious wizard, and wished he could feel angry at him. But all he felt was pity. This bigoted old man was going to let his pride stop him from meeting his granddaughter. What kind of broken person lives like that? He placed the picture of his daughter in front of Cygnus and took his leave.

Cygnus Black woke hours later to find baby Nymphadora smiling back up at him. He saw her innocent smile and her beautiful brown eyes, and broke. Tears ran freely down his wrinkled cheeks at the sight of his first grandchild. He should have burned the picture, tore it up and arrested her father for attacking him, but he didn’t. He instead placed the picture carefully in the false bottom of a desk drawer and excused his absence that afternoon as old man’s poor memory.

In moments where he was alone he would steal glances at the picture. Sometimes finding the baby smiling back up at him, and others she would be sleeping soundly in the confines of the image. He never told Durella of Ted coming to see him about their granddaughter, but soon the news of Nymphadora reached her ears and Cygnus had to feign indifference to the child.

Years later Cygnus was still fighting for restrictive muggle born bills and ruffling liberal feathers on the Wizengamot. He was taking his lunch in his office and reading the Prophet when his heart nearly stopped.

‘The Transfiguration department at Hogwarts is expected to adjust courses and curriculum in the coming years due to the first Metamorphmagus to attend Hogwarts in over a century. Nymphadora Tonks has been stumping the previously unshakable Minerva McGonagall with her rare ability.’

The article went on to explain the special training Nymphadora would be receiving to refine her abilities and even had a quote from McGonagall herself sharing what a talented witch she was becoming. He read the article through, and then again, and then a third time soaking in every word of what a prodigy she was. How the mischievous Hufflepuff was an example to her classmates. He had become a grandfather again by this point to Draco Malfoy. The boy was a proper pureblood and made his grandfather proud, but Cygnus had always been a ‘girl dad’ and yearned for that again. The mention of her name brought all the mixed emotions back to the surface. He knew that he should have been disgusted and ashamed, but all he could feel was pride. He wasn’t even bothered by the information that she was a Hufflepuff, just to hear that she was excelling made him smile. He carefully cut out the article; searching through the paper for a picture, but not finding one. He placed a preservation charm on it and clipped it to the one picture he had of her as a baby. He traced the edge of the picture wondering what she looked like now. A melancholy smile crossed his face as he tried to imagine a smiling 11 year old Nymphadora. He then placed it carefully in the false bottom of his desk drawer and went back to work.

He survived the following years on snippets from the prophet and rumors. He saved anything he came across with her name in it. He found out she made her quidditch team her third year; over hearing some red headed fellow talking about his son’s game against Hufflepuff.

“The Tonks’ Girl sure gave my Charlie a hard time, during the match. But my boy pulled out a great catch at the end.” Cygnus couldn’t tell what position she was from that, but he locked the little information away loving any news he could get. She was mentioned multiple times in the prophet, usually at the end of the year for some academic achievement, but sometimes for less desirable reasons. In her third year she got caught up in the Cursed vault nonsense alongside that Carter Turner girl. While he gathered from the paper that she wasn’t harmed he was furious with her for being so reckless. All was forgive however in her forth year, when he got his first glimpse at her since Ted had left him that picture fourteen years ago. The article was really about the famous Curse Breaker Rakepick. She was hired to find and break the rest of the cursed vaults, and assembled a team of students to help. Front and center was Carter Turner, but two heads down was a young woman with spiky hair, a mischievous smile and freckles across her pert nose. He didn’t need to read the footer to know that was his Nymphadora. The article focused on Rakepick and Carter mostly, but mentioned Nymphadora as ‘a talented and capable friend.’ He stared at he picture for a few more moments trying with all his might to change the black and white photo into color. He wondered what shade her hair was.

Her fifth year she was mentioned as being one of only five students in her year to achieve all Outstanding in her O.W.Ls, and in her sixth year she was awarded the Falco Aesalon medal for transfiguration; an international award for of age students. In her seventh year she was noted as pursuing a career as an auror. By this time he had collected a dozen articles on his granddaughter and only three pictures. He was ashamed to admit it, but he loved her. Even with her mother’s betrayal and her father’s blood, he loved her, and wanted to see her happy. Word around the ministry was that she was arising star in the auror program and was under the tutelage of Alastor Moody himself. He only heard whispers and read mentions in the news letters. He was afraid to confront her, she was only two floors away, but he couldn’t convince himself to make the trip. He was too scared to find out what she actually thought of him. He’s sure her mother would have told her everything, and possibly her father would have told her how he called her ‘mutt’. It was the greatest regret of his life; not taking Ted’s offer.

In the last year of his life Cygnus Black became ill. He dutifully served on the Wizengamot until the end to many’s annoyance, but it was his last vote that perplexed nearly the entire wizarding world. Delores Umbridge was attempting to pass a strict ‘Mutant Bill’ essentially forbidding any ‘mutant’ from being hired without the Ministry’s approval. It was a shoe in to pass and would have been enacted by the fall of 1993. However, someone in their argument pointed out that this law would apply to more than werewolves and vampires. It could include animagi, merpeople, and even a Metamorphmagus. This brought Cygnus’ attention forward. He listened to the argument and agreed the law was flawed. He cared not for the werewolves or the merpoeple, but if Nymphadora’s dream job was decided by committee, well Delores would bar her from working purely because of her ripped jeans. They were given three days before the vote and Cygnus went to work. In one last ditch effort he ran a counter campaign to the bill, calling in favors and resorting to threats in some cases. Dumbledores caucus was a safe vote against the bill, but he needed fifteen additional votes to stop the bill. He couldn’t vote against it himself, knowing his constituents would tear him apart if he did. He had a partner in Ackley Dolohov, who needed to stop the bill for his animagus nephew.

“With Edgecombe that’s fourteen.”

“Damnit.” Cygnus cursed, “What about McLaggen?” He asked.

“Laughed at me for about a quarter hour before throwing me out her office. I don’t think I can pull any more strings.” He said defeated. Cygnus sighed heavily, which turned into a fit of coughs.

“Cyg—” Dolohov stood to help

“I’m fi—” another fit of coughing over took him. “fine.” He finished. The pair sat in silence for a moment allowing Cygnus to catch his breath.

“What if you vote for it?” Cygnus asked after a moment. “We’d be at fifteen and—”

“You know I can’t do that.” He threw down the paper. “I’ve got constituents just like you and I’m up for re-election next year.” Silence settled again. Dolohov was never told why stopping this bill meant so much to his mentor, but he had an idea. Anyone whose been around long enough remembers Andromeda running of with the Tonks boy. Those who really paid attention know that Andromeda had always been his favorite. And her halfblood daughter was a metamorphmagus. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Ackley stood and made his leave. Saying as he did, “Votes in two hours. See you then.” He closed the door behind him and left the old wizard to his thoughts. Cygnus opened his top drawer and removed the false bottom. He pulled out the articles and memos, the pictures and newsletters, and laid them out on his desk. He re-read through her life, trying to picture the transition from baby to teenager to adult. Imagining what color her hair is in the two pictures from the prophet. He liked to think it was brown like Andie’s. He found the newsletter that announced the first student admitted into auror training in almost a decade. He chuckled at the memo from Alastor Moody warning everyone that his mentee sabotaged the fairy cakes in the cafeteria (they were actually frosted with cottage cheese). His laughter turned to violent coughs, unstoppable and painful. He finally settled to see that he had coughed blood all over his clippings.

“Shit!” He exclaimed. He attempted to clear the blood away with his wand, but his hands were shaking and his magic failed him. “Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” He roared in frustration. He flung his wand across the room and stood abruptly from his desk, toppling over the chair.

“Sir?” A soft woman’s voice rang through the door. “Are you okay?” He grabbed his walking cane and hobbled over to the door to open it.

“I’m fine Claudia.” She had been a loyal and hard worker for nearly ten years now. “I’m going to grab some fresh air.” He stated grabbing his traveling cloak.

“Would you like someone with you?” She asked kindly, “No no, I’ll be fine.” He wrapped his cloak around him ad made for the door, but was stopped by something on her desk. “Are these files going to the auror office?” There was a stack of files in the outbox labeled for the second floor.

“Yes. A couple signatures were missing from the arrest report.” He picked up the file and opened to the first page. The secondary was Kingsley Shackelbolt, but the Primary was Alastor Moody. He closed the file and tucked it under his arm.

“I’ll take these up on my way out.” His assistant looked perplexed, he had never offered to do anything of the sort before, but she knew by now not to question certain things he did. Cygnus held on tight to the files as he rode the lift to the second floor. He didn’t allow his thoughts to wander to what he planned to do or what people might think. He only focused on getting himself to the auror office.

“Can I help you sir?” The receptionist at the office asked pleasantly. His mind went blank. Maybe he should have thought about what he was going to say.

“Uh yes. Well umm—you see I have these— I’m looking for.” The young man looked up confused at the stuttering old wizard.

“Are you lost Sir?” He asked

“No I —uh— I just need to find—”

“NYMPHADORAAAAA!!!!!!” A gravely voice roared through the office. Cygnus turned to look. A young pink haired witch was running from a raging one eyed wizard.

“They’re good for your eyesight!” she hollered over her shoulder as the peg legged man threw carrots at her.

“You’re good for testing my patience girl!” A carrot got Nymphadora in the temple as she hopped over and behind a desk to safety. “If one more of my quills turns into a carrot I’m sending you packing back you your mothers house.” He turned on his heel and march off to his office. Tonks peaked up from behind the desk with a wide smile on her face.

“Sorry about that Sir.” The receptionist drew back his attention after the interruption, “Who were you looking for?” Cygnus realized he had been watching the entire exchange with a smile on his face. He looked back to the young man,

“I’m actually looking for her.” He gestured to the pink haired witch.

“Tonks!” The receptionist called, “This gentleman needs to see you.” She looked up at the sound of her surname and strode over to the front desk. He was waiting for a sign of recognition from her, but it didn’t come. Her bright smile remained on her pale heart shaped face, matching her bright bubblegum pink hair. She had multiple piercings in her ears and one diamond stud on her nose. Her auror robes were buttoned from her collarbone to her hips, but flared out showing ripped jeans and black leather combat boots. Her foot caught on something and she stumbled the last few feet to meet him at the front desk. At first glance she wasn’t any thing like his refined daughters.

“Wotcher,” she greeted, “Names Tonks. How can I help you?” He was perplexed why she didn’t recognize him. They had never met, but she should make the connection in his Wizengamot robes. A quick mental check reminded him that he was actually wearing a traveling cloak. He didn’t look like a councilman, he looked like a page. There was a moment of silence where Nymphadora looked confused. “Sir?” She asked.

“Right, Sorry. I need help with these files.” He gestured to the stack in his arms, “There are some signatures missing.” He handed over the folder. She skimmed through the file and nodded in a few places.

“I was on this case, but I’m too junior to sign these.” She flipped through a few more pages, “I can go get King to finish these up for you.” She closed the file and met his eyes again. He noticed that they had changed from brown to blue.

“That would be great.” He responded.

“You can wait here, or at my desk.” She offered gesturing to a cubicle one row down. He nodded and sat in a chair set next to her desk. She smiled at him and rushed off to find Kingsley. He peered around her cubicle and felt the smile tug back at his lips. It wasn’t messy per say, but she had multiple toys and knick knacks on her desk accompanied by pinned photos and old concert tickets on her wall. Everything was brightly colored and clashed with the somber atmosphere of the office as a whole. The calendar on her wall was of the holyhead harpies and was filled out with appointments, shifts and training schedules. He noticed this Friday it said ‘Tea with mum!’ And he felt his heart ache. There was a post it note on a file that read in the same round handwriting as the calendar ‘Check brother’s alibi!’ He was taking it all in and painting a picture of her personality. He already learned more in 30 seconds than he had in 20 years. He knew she liked a band called ‘The Weird Sisters’, she had friend named Penny, her club quidditch team had a match next Tuesday, and she new a red headed man who worked on a dragon reserve. He wondered if that was her boyfriend. She returned with the file minutes later stumbling into the cubical with the same bright smile.

“All Signed.” She announced, “King just wants me to look it over once more before we send it back with you.” She sat down and began flipping through the pages, making an occasional check or note with a bright pink quill. Cygnus tried not to stare, it was rude and she didn’t know who he was. But it was surreal seeing her. He had only snippets and pieces of information to create this image of her and finally she was in front of him, and she was nothing like he had imagined. He thought she would be a copy of Andromeda; ambitious, graceful and witty. But she wasn’t that at all. She was playful, clumsy and vibrant. He loved her all the more for it.

“Been working here long?” He asked wanting to share some interaction with her to hold in his brain.

“I’m technically still in training. Spend half my time here on cases and half the time in Scotland doing boot camp type stuff.” Her eyes remained on the pages as she spoke, “But yeah It's been just over two years.”

“Do you like it?”

“Love it! It's what I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid.” He added that information to his mental log. “How about you? Been here long?” He chuckled, barely holding back a fit of coughs,

“Longer than you’ve been alive.” The coughing over took him and he pulled out his handkerchief to cover his mouth. She drew her focus from the report and conjured up a glass of water.

“Are you ok?” She asked laying a comforting hand on his arm while offering the glass of water with the other.

“Fine,” he lied, “Just getting over something.” He scrunched up the handkerchief with a shaking hand to hide the blood and took the glass gratefully. As he drank another auror peaked his head over into Tonks’ cubicle,

“Oi! Tonks.” She turned to the man addressing her, “What flavor do you want your cake for the bon voyage party? Remus told King your favorite was Chocolate.” Tonks rolled her eyes.

“His favorite is chocolate. Mine is carrot.” The man smirked at her response.

“Why do I feel like you're saying that to get one more over on ol’ Mad-eye.” He asked with an amused tone.

“‘Cuz you’re a smart bloke.” She winked and the man departed. She turned back to her grandfather refilling his water glass and smiling reassuringly at him.

“Why are they throwing you a bon voyage party?” He asked. Her smile faltered.

“Well they’re voting on this new bill today and it's going to make it really hard to keep me on for full time hire next year.

“How so?” He asked feigning ignorance.

“Well it’ll require wizengamot approval to hire any ‘mutant’, and I’m a metamorphmagus.” She paused and scrunched up her face like she was concentrating on something. The next moment her hair changed to baby blue.

“Thats amazing!” He exclaimed at seeing her use her gift. “Why wouldn’t they hire you back?”

“Well if it was up to Mad-eye I would be. But the way the bill is written I’d have to be vetted by the Wizengamot, and well.” She paused for a moment; possibly choosing her words, “My parents sort of pissed off a bunch of councilmen and they’ll take any excuse to keep me out of the ministry.” He let the truth in her words sink in. His fellow purebloods would see it as protecting his honor to bar her from employment.

“You never know. They could vote the bill down.” He offered, and she smiled.

“Doubtful, but I like your positive thinking.” She turned back to the report, and finished revising any incomplete information. “There.” She closed the folder with a flourish and rebound it for the old man. He began to stand from the chair, but found he was sitting too low for his old legs to handle. He reached for her desk and his walking stick to add leverage, but still struggled. Nymphadora stood and aided him, with her youth and strength.

“Thank you.” He muttered, “never get old.” He warned.

“Don’t know if I have a say on that one.” She quipped, handing him the report. “Oh also,” she pulled open her desk drawer and pulled out a small tin. “This is me mum’s special tea. It's really great for sore throats.” She placed it on top of the report, “Might help with that cough of yours.” He felt the threatening sting of tears forming behind his eyes.

“Thank you Nymphadora.” She cringed at the sound of her given name, but let it slide for the sick old man. She walked him to the receptionist giving him one last smile in farewell. Just before they parted ways,

“Tonks!” A sharp demanding tone rang through the office. Alastor Moody once again entered the bullpen from his office, “I need you and—” but he stopped short. His magical eye which had been wizzing around checking something through the back of his head came forward and focused on the man standing next to his protege. Cygnus of course knew Mad-eye on several levels. He was a frequent witness at trials, a colleague of sorts, and the man who arrested his daughter Bellatrix. A cold moment passed between them. He could see, even a room away, the same protective fire on his eyes that had been in Ted’s twenty years ago in his office. Cygnus stepped back and made to depart from the auror office. Nymphadora gave a little wave good bye and walked to her mentor unaware of what had passed between the two men. Cygnus returned to his office with just enough time to ready for the vote. He removed his traveling cloak and donned his official Wizengamot robes and tucked the baby picture of Nymphadora in his breast pocket for resolve.

Remus Lupin was struggling to keep the sweat out of his eyes as he labored in his back garden. Ted Tonks had been kind enough to send some work his way earlier this week in the form of editing some academic papers for the Potioneer’s magazine. But it really had only given him a day of work, and so he was back to working in the back yard. With income being irregular his entire adult life he had learned to eat what he could grown to save money. Especially now with the ‘Mutant Bill’ likely to pass he needed creative ways to stay afloat. He remembered hearing Nymphadora saying the vote was today; so to keep his mind off of it he began his gardening early in the morning. When it got voted in it would be frustrating for him, but not much more than what he had dealt with since he was a child. What really set his temper on edge was that it dragged down innocent people like Nymphadora. She had been working her whole life to be an auror and to have it stripped away when she was so close was cruel.

He was mending a hole in his wired garden fence when a small pop interrupted his focus. Programmed from years of war he turned immediately; wand at the ready.

“If you were to kill me now you’d be doing yourself a disservice.” The calm voice of Albus Dumbledore responded to the jumpy werewolf.

“Sorry Albus.” He lowered his wand and exited his garden. “Old habits.”

“They’re warranted.” He reassured.

“Can I offer you Ice tea?” He offered his old headmaster who nodded. Lupin entered the back of his small cottage, washing his hands and face before pouring two glasses, adding a lemon wedge to each. He returned out side to find Dumbledore admiring his tomatoes.

“Pamona always said you had a green thumb.” He commented accepting a glass from Remus and following him to a small table near the garden.

“Its relaxing and makes food shopping less of a burden.” He explained. The pair sat in silence letting the summers sun soak into their skin. He knew there was news coming; Dumbledore didn’t often make house calls. The question was if it was good or bad.

“Sir,” Dumbledore tilted his head to indicate he was listening, “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but why are you here?” A small smile rose to Dumbledores lips.

“I’m here to seize and opportunity.” He said airily, “Very slytherin of me, I know. But it's too good to let slip.” Remus raised an eye brow in questioning. “You see the Mutant Bill has just been voted down.”

“It has?!” Remus nearly spit cup his drink at the news.

“Yes, an unexpected ally was the deciding vote, and it's made me realize something.” Again Remus asked a silent question, “I’ve been struggling to find a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for years and if I had only broadened my view I could have seen that there was a perfect candidate right here all along.” His blue eyes found Remus’ hazel.

“Me?” He asked receiving a small nod from the old wizard, “But I’m—I can’t be around kids.”

“You were burdened with lycanthropy while at school, why is this any different?”

“Well I was smaller then, not full grown. And I missed a lot of school because of it. I can’t skip classes as a professor.”

“The answer to both is Severus Snape.” Dumbledore continued. “He’s agreed to brew Wolfsbane potion for you while you're employed at Hogwarts.” Remus couldn’t believe it. He had heard of wolfsbane and from what Ted told him it was like a miracle. It wouldn’t stop the transformation, but it eased your mind, and cut your recovery time in half. He had never been able to afford it before. “And should there be a class or two you had to miss he has free periods to cover for you.” He was speechless. He always wanted to be a teacher, even got a case from his friends with ‘Professor R.J. Lupin’ engraved on it.

“Sir—I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “It seems too good to be true.” Dumbledore smiled at the old wolf.

“The safety of my students is the most important thing; second is their instruction.” His kind eyes bore into Lupin, “Your the best man for the job, and I wouldn’t offer this to you if I didn’t trust you 100%.” Warmth spread through his body, “With the Mutant Bill out of the way I can hire you without committee and prove to the wizarding world that our fears about ‘mutants’ are baseless.” He sat back needing a moment to take this all in. To go back to Hogwarts, to teach, it was everything he wanted. He let his mind turnout over a few times. He let the silence settle and the headmaster let him process cheerfully watching the bees hover around his garden and tend to his flowers. After sometime Remus did come up with one question.

“Who was the deciding vote on the bill?” Dumbledore looked back to him, “You said we had an ‘unexpected ally’. Who was it?” He asked

“Cygnus Black.” He stated simply.

“Andie’s father?” He asked bewildered, “But he—he’s the worst of them all. He leads the pureblood caucus.”

“I was as surprised as you are, but in the end his vote stoped the bill.”

“Why do you think he did it?”

“I have a theory, but If I ever asked him he’d deny it with a passion.” Dumbledore left the statement hanging forcing Lupin to question,

“Whats your theory?” Albus smirked

“The bill was worded in such a way that the category of ‘mutant’ could apply to more than one group. Merpeople, Centaurs, Animagi and—”

“Metamorphmagi.” Remus finished. Dumbledore tapped his nose. “But he’s never even met her. Ted told me went to his office and tried to extend an olive branch, but he refused. Called her a ‘mutt’.”

“Yes well, we’re weaker men when we’re younger. We allow our pride to cloud our better judgement. I have reason to believe he’s had a change of heart.” He continued, “After the vote, I received an owl form Alastor Moody saying that Cygnus had visited the auror office not an hour before.” Remus raised an eyebrow skeptically, “Additionally, I am on good terms with Cygnus’ assistant, and she shared that she had to clean his desk of article clippings and photos of a young girl named Tonks. Poor thing thought he was having an affair. She wasn’t around when Andromeda left for Ted.”

“So, he voted ‘no’ to protect his estranged granddaughter?”

“Makes the the more sense than him voting because he was concerned with your employment opportunities.” They chuckled.

“So what do you think did it then? What made him decide to do right by her after all this time?” Dumbledore shrugged,

“I don’t think even he could tell you. But as an old man myself I can say that my life regrets fuel my decisions today.” They let the quandary of Cygnus’ vote fall away and allowed the amicable silence settle back in. Finishing their iced teas as the sky began to dance with hues of orange and pink. When their glasses were emptied Albus took his leave, “I suppose I’ll be seeing you at the start of term; Professor Lupin.” Remus couldn’t stop the stupid smile from stretching across his face.

“Thank you, Headmaster.” And with that the old wizard disappeared with a low pop. Remus stood from the table and cleared the glasses. He hadn’t finished rinsing them out when an owl came swooping in through the open window. He recognized it as Tonks’ owl Artemis and detached the letter, filling a dish with water for the animal before opening it.

‘Moony, Boy do I have some fantastic news for you! Dinner tonight at my Parents, 7pm. Bring your party pants! x Tonks’

The smile on his face widened knowing how excited she must be over keeping her job. He checked his watch, confirming that he had half an hour to clean up for dinner. He wondered how she would react to his news in return. The newly appointed professor donned himself with his least shabbiest clothes and readied for a happy evening with friends.

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stilesssolo · 4 years ago

Note

WTWTA prompt ideas:

-Ghost and the dragons meet their new baby sibling for the first time 🥺

-Jon does one of those trends on Insta (eg “make an assumption about me”) and someone wants to know if he’s single

-more drunk!Marge on Insta 😂

The other two I have added to my prompts list BUT for tonight some drunk!Marge, just for you :) Insta post is available on AO3 as always!

Dany knows, as soon as she gets the push notification, that they’re in trouble.

“Oh, gods,” she says, opening up Instagram to look at the new comment on the picture she’d posted. Sansa had taken it for them a bit ago, after Dany had finally finished schmoozing with the company bigwigs and had escaped their grasps to spend the rest of the night on the dance floor with Jon. They look adorable, she personally thinks, wrapped up in each other on the edge of a sea of people.

“What is it?” Jon asks, peering down at her screen. His fingers are still splayed across the small of her back, thumb stroking over the thin fabric of her dress. Dany sighs, offering him her phone so he can see for himself.

There’s a new comment on her photo, from the Tyrell official account. A comment that a drunk Margaery definitely left, based on the number of exclamation points.

“Have you seen Margaery?” Sansa asks, looking panicked as she appears before them. “I can’t find her anywhere.”

Jon looks up from Dany’s phone, brow furrowed. “Wasn’t she just here?” he asks. “I saw her when I went to the bar to get more drinks.”

“That wasn’t that long ago,” Dany says, holding up her still-full glass. “She didn’t come back and find you after?”

“I think she’s hiding from me,” Sansa says, fiddling with the end of her fishtail. Jon gives his sister a bewildered look.

“Why would she do that?”

Sansa sighs. “Because I took her phone away,” she says. Jon looks even more confused, but Dany remembers the comment on her post, and the puzzle pieces fall into place. She bursts out laughing.

“I had to! For the good of the company!” Sansa defends. “She kept trying to post photos of me on Tyrell’s story, and I tried to tell her that wasn’t a good idea, but, well—”

“She’s drunk off her arse,” Dany says, still giggling. The alcohol running through her system is making this even more hilarious. “When did you take her phone away?”

“Almost twenty minutes ago,” Sansa says. “I thought she’d forgotten, really. We were going to go dance now that she doesn’t have to talk to people anymore.”

“Wait,” Dany says, brow furrowing. “But she just commented on my post. Or, well, Tyrell did. But I know Loras disappeared with Renly an hour ago, and Margaery’s interns are too terrified of her to post drunk on the company account.”

At that, Dany notices that Jon is cringing, his handsome face marred with guilt. Sansa, too, picks up on her brother’s expression. “Jon,” she says, hands on her hips. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t mean to!” he defends, brows raised. “But, well, when I saw her at the bar, she told me her phone died, and that she couldn’t keep up with her social media duties, so—”

“Jon, you bloody idiot!” Sansa practically screeches. “You did not give her your phone!”

“What was I supposed to do?!” he retorts. “She’s practically my boss!”

“Oh, Jon,” Dany says, overcome with giggles. If she was more sober, this would probably be a bit more dire— gods know what an intoxicated Margaery is posting on their corporate account.

“I’m sorry,” he says to her, defeated, but Dany can’t stop smiling, and soon he’s smiling too, her joy contagious. She nuzzles herself into his side, his hand tightening on her waist.

“Sansa!” they hear, and all of them turn to see Margaery moving towards them, surprisingly steady in her heels for someone who’s had as much to drink as she has.

“Oh, others take me, there you are!” Sansa says, relief washing over her face. “Where have you been?!”

“Just over there,” Margaery says with a shrug, nodding towards the bar. “I needed a drink!”

Sansa laughs at her, her aggravation from a moment before melted away in the presence of her girlfriend. Dany smiles, watching the two of them. “And Jon’s phone, hmm?”

Margaery turns to Jon, eyes wide with betrayal. “Jon! You were supposed to keep that a secret!”

He huffs in laughter, and Dany leans in closer to him, grinning. “You were supposed to be workin’,” he responds. “Not hacking back into the Tyrell account.”

“Sansa, don’t be mad,” Margaery begs, pouting at the other woman. “I just wanted to check! I didn’t even do anything.”

“You commented on my photo,” Dany says, arching an eyebrow at her friend. “From Tyrell’s account.”

Margaery tilts her head to the side. “Fuck, did I? I could have sworn that was from mine.”

Sansa laughs again, taking her girlfriend’s hand. “Come on, love. Give Jon his phone back, and then let’s go dance. I think your social media duties have been fulfilled for the night.”

Margaery scoffs, but she hands the phone back to Jon anyways, who slips it into the pocket of his suit jacket. “My social media duties are never done,” Margaery tells her. “Besides. I don’t know why you took it away in the first place! I just wanted everyone to see how pretty you look.” Her smile gets dreamy, and she leans in closer to Sansa. “You look so pretty tonight, you know?”

“I know,” Sansa says, ducking her head so their foreheads are resting together. “You’ve told me many times. You look beautiful too, for the record.”

Margaery beams, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss Sansa quickly. “Gods, I love you,” she tells her. “I can’t wait till this bloody thing is over so I can get you home and finally take off that dress—”

“Oh, fucking hells,” Jon says, face twisted in disgust. “Alright, are we dancin’, or? If not I need another drink.”

“Yes! Let’s dance,” Margaery says, bouncing with excitement. Dany laughs too, her friend’s joy contagious. Jon still looks mildly nauseous.

Margaery grabs Sansa’s hand and drags her off onto the dance floor, both of them grinning at each other like lunatics. Jon chuckles, squeezing Dany tighter.

“I’m not really sure I want to follow them,” he admits, and Dany laughs again.

“What, you don’t like hearing about your, for all intents and purposes, boss’s sex life with your sister?” she teases. Jon blanches again.

“Absolutely not,” he says. “I’m glad they’re so happy, but I draw the line there.”

“Mm,” Dany says, rising on tiptoes to drag her lips across the shell of his ear. “Well, I can think of some things that might distract you from that particular train of thought,” she says, grinning at the way his fingers dig into her waist, pulling her closer.

“Is that so?” Jon teases, his voice husky. “Such as?”

“Well,” Dany whispers, fingers dragging down his chest, catching momentarily in his belt. “Why don’t you think about taking my dress off instead?”

Jon laughs, and when his eyes meet hers, they’re molten.

“That,” he says, “I think I can do.”

#writing #my writing #where the wild things are #drabbles #asks #answered #axelallie

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mnxxlove · 4 years ago

Note

One-shot or Multi-chapter // 11 Bed sharing // 18 AUMore than friends // 💙 trip to Rome // 👑 Henry Cavill

ROMAN HOLIDAY

Pairing: Henry Cavill

Prompts:

11; One-shot

18; Bed Sharing

👑; Trip to Rome

💙; AU More than friends

Word Count: 2542

Summary: Henry goes on a trip with one of his closest friends from his childhood straight to Rome, Italy. It was all fun and games, until he let her know clearly that he liked her too. Then, letting them not knowing surely, what to do.

warnings: insecurity, fluffiness, sexual tension.

• Thanks for your request love 🧸

gif not mine;

Rapid footsteps chasing her around the Piazza of Trevi, echoed on the floor. They were laughing, or at least Henry did hear her giggle, while trying not to be captured by his big arms. It did happen from then on sudden, they were having a conversation and then, without thinking it twice, Y/n grabbed his ice-cream. It only had one bite left, and she knew how much he liked to finish it. Because he has been spending the last five minutes talking about how good it was. So, as a joke, she decided to do so. But she didn’t last for so long running away from him. They both knew that sooner or later she would stop at some point. But still, he found funny the idea of making her believe that she could be faster than him, and so, she let her run freely, him going after her.

“Alright kiddo, grab it.” She let out a soft chuckle, one hand placed on her waist. Y/n was breathless, whereas, on the other hand, he seemed completely fine.

Having a playful grin marked on his face, he took the wooden stick off of her hand, to then lowering his chin, to stare at her directly to her face. Henry raised both his dark eyebrows to then blinking surprisedly.

“... Did you just call me a kiddo?” He gasped, his blue eyes narrowing while giving her a confused yet forced-offended frown. She didn’t say anything back at him. Y/n just embraced herself, making her cardigan to wrinkle a bit. Her face expressed fun yet grumpiness, a thing which he found adorable. Then she just nodded her head slightly, making herself seem innocent and petite before him.

Y/n’s head lowered a little, her eyes still staring up at him, the warm yellow lightning from the streetlights brightening, reflecting on her face. She looked beautiful, dreamy he would say, but although he would rarely say it to her, Henry couldn’t stop thinking about it, once his steel blue eyes would lay on her. Y/n on the other hand, thought the same thing of him, but she would always joke about it, not purposely. It didn’t matter for how many years they'd known each other, Henry would sometimes make her feel nervous. And by consequence, not knowing how to act, she would not even think it, she would just act or say incoherent stuff at times, making her feel watched, and embarrassed... But he liked how she would do that often. Making him think that it was cute, how nervous she could get around him.

It was late at night, but there were still people on the street. However, it was about time for them to walk back to their hotel.

They arrived in the capital, just a few hours ago, but they were too excited to go out just for tonight, because the next day, they agreed they would go and visit some museums. So, once the taxi they took, left them in their hotel, they left all their belongings inside of their shared room, changed clothes, and they then went straight to have some dinner at the first restaurant they’d come across. It was far from being fancy, but the aesthetic and the food looked good, so they entered in in hope it would be as good as they thought it would be. And fortunately, it was way better than they expected.

The restaurant had a beautiful patio that had a few tables that were already occupied, but luckily there were a few more tables at the centre that weren’t taken. And so, the waitress who assisted them, told them to take a seat in the table that was just in the middle of the place. The lightning was yellow and cozy, which made them feel comfortable and relaxed.

The weather was nice, even if it was almost summer, the wind was still cold. Making her stay warm, with her cardigan on, the sleeves being wrapped with her hands, making her look small. Henry glanced, while taking off his jacket, to then offering to her, which she refused, her cheeks being flushed of his actions. He then placed it just on the back of the chair, to then looking at her. She seemed relaxed, her breathing calmed while she was having her head resting in both her hands. But suddenly, Y/n heard the sound of an Iphone taking a picture, which made her frown and to turn her head with curiosity. Once her eyes pierced him, he looked at her having a smile curving on his lips.

“You looked too gorgeous...” He affirmed, while looking down at the bright screen of his phone.

“If you say so…” She sighed now, having her left forearm placed on the table, while her right elbow was placed on the other side, resting now her chin in one hand either than in both her hands.

Henry felt how her mood suddenly changed, and so, he decided to show her the picture by giving her his phone.

“...I just wanted you to see yourself, the way I see you.” His voice was low but firm.

That’s why he didn’t want to in the first place. Henry thought it wasn’t going to be such a big of a dial after all. But he was wrong. He hated how she couldn’t see herself as others could. As he could. Y/n has been through a lot these past few years. Always giving but never receiving anything back in return. Always remembering herself, that she wasn’t worthy of absolute anything in life. She wanted to be promoted in her work and maybe have a good romantic relationship with someone, but although she was skilled to do so, the first one, she wasn’t still prepared yet for being in a relationship, or at least that’s what she thought. And Henry was aware of all of this. And those were more of the reasons why he has always made her feel as his major priority.

She was too insecure not only for herself but for actually trusting others, Henry was the furthest one of the only persons he really trusted. And just because of that, it was too complicated for her to be or start being in a serious relationship with someone.

Her last partners were jealous, childish and immature. They were those types of people that liked to promise things and then never keeping their word. She has only gotten four serious partners, Y/n even got to experiment with her sexuality, then, dating both men and women, but even then, sadly, she hasn’t found her perfect match.

“You just see me with good eyes...” Y/n admitted, while looking away.

Henry kept his breath, and he looked at her with tired eyes.

“You know I like you, right?” Henry spitted out of sudden, leaving her speechless and with her eyes being wide opened. She was freezing in place, her back resting on the chair being static.

“I- I know you like me. If you didn’t like me, our friendship would be pretty weird, then... Do- Or do you...- Do you like me, like me? I mean… I-” She stuttered without thinking, then biting her tongue, forcing herself to stay calm and shout. Henry blinked a few times, trying to keep himself steady. His leg was bouncing, and that was just a coping mechanism of his anxiety. He was nervous, expected to know if she would finally take that one last step that was left for her, then, admitting her feelings to him. Henry knew she liked him, not just because it was obvious but the fact that she did talk with him being extremely drunk. Then she remembered what she did the night before, then blaming herself, because of her stupidity. She obviously didn’t and still does not have a clue that he has feelings for her as well. Him feeling too pressured and not knowing what to do, he just kept his mouth shut. And so she did as well. It was too embarrassing for her, even the heat did attack her face, making her face become red as a cherry.

Uncomfortably, they didn’t keep talking, and they just waited until any of the workers would approach with the menus. Henry didn’t know how to properly answer her, and she didn’t either. That’s when they thought they would then stay in complete silence until any of them decided to break the silence. He hoped their silence would be interrupted at any given moment, but the waitress lasted five minutes in returning back with the menus, which it felt endless.

The dinner felt awkward, both could feel the tension between each other. But still none of them did anything to stop themselves feeling like that. At least, until a different waiter came and left them the check on the table just after they finished eating. Henry, himself was going to take his wallet from the back of his pants, but so did she. And that’s when they started to talk again.

“I can pay for it.” His voice was soft and clear, but she didn’t care, then placed her credit card on the little plate in which the receipt was at.

“Oh, no. Definitely not.” She scoffed, knowing he was going to insist anyways..

“You invited me to come here with you. The least I can do is to invite you to dinner.” Y/n added, making him to then press his lips in a thin line, while then, raising both his hands.

“Alright.”

Time passed, meanwhile they walked down the street way back to their hotel. This time, she was wearing his jacket placed on her shoulders, making her feel the warmth she needed, and wasn’t getting it because of the thin spring cardigan that she was wearing. Minutes felt like seconds this time, and they agreed that they didn’t want the night to be over, not just yet. Not for the moment… They didn’t say a word, they just shared a comfortable silence until he saw how there was still an opened ice-cream parlor. She knew how much he liked ice-cream, and how excited he was feeling that he was about to finally taste a real handmade ice-cream from Rome.

And even if she wanted to make fun of the whole situation, Y/n thought it was cute of him to act in that way. He even offered her some, but she just preferred to watch him eat instead.

And just a few minutes after he got his ice-cream, she then decided to grab it off of his hands, leaving him speechless.

“Come on.” That was the last thing he said after placing his left arm before her shoulders.

Five minutes approximately, they arrived at their hotel, and they went straight to the elevator.

“I didn’t want to start another argument, that's why I didn’t answer.” She admitted, her voice echoing a bit, even though she did lower it purposely.

“I didn’t want it either… I just wanted to be honest with you, that’s all.” Henry then admitted, just right after the door got opened. Y/n glanced at him right before they left the elevator, then following him down the long corridor, her mouth being slightly left opened, wanting to talk back, but anything came from her lips...

She was left blinking rapidly, her pupils dilated and her heart beating fast, almost feeling it on her throat. Her hands were sweating and she was starting to become anxious. She was unsure of herself and she then started to overthink about it.

“Did he just mean that he is feeling something for me, or is that I am getting paranoid? God, shut up. I am so paranoid. Look at him! Seriously! We’ve been friends since forever, and none of us had ever made something. Well, I did. But I confessed what I felt while being drunk, so it doesn’t count. Right...? Although he… No, Stop. Y/n, that’s impossible.” She thought to herself, while getting inside of the room just after him. Just after she entered in, he placed both his cold hands on her waist, making her walk backwards, and her back getting pushed back, against the door. And that’s when she knew that she couldn’t be more fucked.

His jacket which she was wearing, even left from her shoulders, then, falling straight to the floor, but none of them seemed to care.

His blue eyes darkened, looking way deeper than they usually do. Which made her to leave her mouth, to stay slightly opened. Henry scanned her face, lowering and raising his piercing blue eyes, looking straight to her eyes and then continuing, to her mouth. A thing, which she obviously noticed and made her feel a shiver behind her neck. Not helping it, she did as well as he did so. Now him, having a playful grin marked on his face.

Words weren’t needed. They never were after all…

And so, it happened. Rapidly, but still carefully, never letting her eyes leave his own, both his hands trailed up to her face, his left hand being placed on her nape, whereas, the other one, cupped her chin. His lips then touched her own, leaving her whole body melt against his as they poured all their desperate emotions into a smooch.

Even if it sounded corny, she then started to feel really good. It was not only the fact that she was getting not only affection, but lust as well feeling truly loved and desired. That feeling, which she had spent for so long searching, it was all him. And even if she was surprised at first, deep down she begged for it to be true. There was no other person she wouldn’t choose, but him.

At the end, it all started to make sense. No person in the world has given or made her feel the way he has always done. Henry made her feel important, loved and seen. And for her, that was essentially important, having on count at this point, that she has never ever felt loved or cared for anyone that wasn’t her parents...

Not expecting it, he walked backwards, his big hands now placed down her back, while making her follow him, still kissing each other passionately. Suddenly, he tripped with the bed, making them fall, now Y/n being on top of him. They got themselves separated, now her letting out a soft chuckle, that happily, he shared too.

“I thought it was better this way than just sitting, and talking...” He admitted, his cheeks being flushed and his eyes not only just looking dark but brightening. They were full of light and life, and so were her own as well.

She didn’t think it, not even twice, to then press her lips with his own one more time.

Not seeing it coming, he then turned, having his hands placed on the back of her thighs, Henry made her to round before him, making her to just laugh back in response. Her laughing wasn’t contagious but loud, which made him lower his head, placing it just right on the crock of her neck while laughing as well as her.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henrycavillfanpage #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill hot #henry cavill au #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #fluff #fluff imagine #fluff is needed #superman fanfic

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waywardnerd67 · 6 years ago

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Runaway: Epilogue - What You Need

Summary: A year after losing (Y/N) and killing Andrew, Sam and Dean are still dealing with the loss. While working a case in her hometown they get the surprise of their lives. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Andrew Clark (OMC), Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Angst Word Count: 2345 A/N #1: I’m sorry this has taken me so long to get out. You all know how real life gets in the way sometimes. I hope you enjoy the last chapter of Runaway. A/N #2: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Catch Up Here: Runaway Series Masterlist

One Year Later

Dean was sitting at the kitchen table scrolling news articles on his laptop. He had put Rory to bed a couple hours ago and now were the hours that haunted him the most. The hours where there was nothing to keep his mind off of the darkness and loneliness that was constantly trying to drown him. The only thing keeping him from going over the edge was the little golden hair girl sleeping upstairs in her room.

Over the last year, Dean had built up the closest thing to an apple pie life he could for himself and Rory. He bought a house that was a ten-minute drive from the Bunker in a highly recommended school district for Rory to attend. To anyone who met them he was a single father to a little ten-year-old girl. If Sam needed him to go out on a case, then Castiel would come over to stay with Rory. Dean had made it a point to never be gone more than a few days.

Everything he did revolved around her and he could not remember a time where he felt like everything he did had meaning or purpose to it like it did now. He had the best of both worlds except for one thing that was missing. (Y/N). The thought of her making his chest clench and heart ache. He finished the last of his whiskey as he turned off his laptop for the evening. Dean made a lap around the downstairs checking sigils, salt lines and locks before climbing the stairs to the second floor.

He peeked into Rory’s room to see her sleeping peacefully in her bed. Dean had to hold himself back from sitting in there to watch her sleep as that was the only way to make the night time bearable. Shutting her door, he made his way to his own room which simply had a bed and a dresser in it. Sitting on the bed, he ran his hands over his face. He hated falling asleep in bed alone the silence and emptiness a constant reminder of what was missing in his life. Laying back he pulled the blanket over his body, taking a deep breath before closing his eyes.

Dean would have the same dream every night. Raking leaves in the front yard as Rory waited excitedly to jump in them. (Y/N) walking out onto the porch her smile outshining the sun setting on the horizon. Her belly swollen as she waddled down the steps towards him. One hand resting on top of her stomach as Rory ran up to her hugging her as best as she could. Dean could feel his heart wanting to burst from his chest with how happy his girls made me.

It would be in that moment gazing at (Y/N) and Rory together that Dean would wake up back in his room completely alone and the darkness within him would spread a little more trying to consume every bit of happiness he had. Tears would slowly slip down his face as he lied awake for the rest of the night trying to compose himself enough in order to get up with Rory.

That is exactly what he did. He got up and started cooking breakfast for them. Rory was upstairs grabbing her school stuff when Sam walked in through the back door into the kitchen. He was holding a print out in his hand and his looked completely bewildered.

“Sammy, what’s going on?” he asked as his brother handed him what seemed to be an article. Dean looked down and felt like the air had been knocked out of him. “W-What the hell is this?”

Sam took a deep breath, “Apparently, she has been in a coma for a year and just woke up a few days ago. She has no memory of who she is or what happened to her. Dean…” Sam said pausing nervously.

“What?” he asked staring down at the picture that went along with the article.

“First thing she said was a name. Aurora.” Dean’s eyes snapped up to Sam’s just as he heard her footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Uncle Sammy!” she squealed running to him throwing her arms around his waist.

Sam leaned down hugging her tightly, “Hey sunshine, ready for school?” he asked as Dean tried to put on his best façade as to not tip her off at how much he was freaking out.

“I’m not going to school today.” She said looking up at him.

Dean chuckled, “Sweetheart why aren’t you going to school?” he asked kneeling in front of her.

She smiled sweetly at him and grabbed the article from his hand, “We need to go get mom. Chuck told me so last night in my dreams.”

Dean looked up to Sam who was just as stunned as he was, “Rory, do you mean Chuck as in God?” Sam asked.

Rory nodded, “Of course. He has been visiting me a lot in my dreams in order for me to be prepared to help mom come back to us. He said…” she paused looking to Dean, “he said she is what you need most.”

A small gasp escaped his lips as she let go of Sam and wrapped her arms around Dean’s neck hugging him. It was taking everything within him to keep his emotions down and when Rory let go of him he pulled out his phone from his pocket.

“Hello, this is Dean Winchester and I’m Rory Winchester’s father.” He paused for a moment as the secretary spoke, “I just wanted to let you know that we have had a family emergency come up and she will not be in school for the rest of the week. If there is anyway her teacher could gather some work for her, we will be there within the hour to grab it.”

Over the next two days Dean, Sam, Rory and Castiel traveled to Augusta, Maine. Dean had forgotten how much he loved traveling in Baby with his brother and friend. During the trip, he even let Castiel drive her, so he could get in the backseat with Rory to get a few hours of sleep. Rory had been amazing during the trip. She would sing along to Dean’s mixtape, work out her school work or lean up again Sam as he read to her from a lore book.

As Dean pulled into the town of Augusta, Rory lean over the front seat excitedly, “Awe it’s so cute here. Daddy, can we go to the little shops?” she asked as he chuckled.

“I’m sure we can, but let’s get settled into a room first then go see if it’s really (Y/N) at the hospital.” He said parking in front of a hotel. He looked back to see Rory giving him a disapproving look. “What’s with the look?”

Rory narrowed her little green eyes at him, “You don’t believe it’s mom. You don’t believe me.” She whispered as she sat back into her seat crossing her arms over her chest.

Dean sighed as Sam was chuckling getting out of the car. He got out taking a deep breath before opening Rory’s door and kneeling next to her as she swung her legs out. “I believe you, honey. I just don’t… I don’t want to get my hopes up for anything. Do you understand?”

Her expression softened as she nodded, and he helped her out of the car. Sam and Castiel had grabbed their bags getting two room for the four of them. As they walked stopped in front of the doors Rory grabbed a hold of Castiel’s hand asking, “Can I stay with Uncle Cas, please?”

Dean looked up to his friend who simply shrugged his shoulders, “I’m okay with it as long as you are.” He said as Dean nodded.

“Sure, I’ll keep our door unlocked in case you want to come over here.” He said handing Castiel her small duffel bag and her bookbag.

Dean sat down on his bed as a million thoughts ran through his head. He was startled when Sam waved a beer in front of his face. “Thanks.” He murmured as his brother said across from him.

“How should be approach (Y/N)?” he asked as the same question had sounded off in his own head.

Dean took a long drink from the bottle, “You and Cas go to see her in the morning. I want Cas to make sure it’s really her before I let Rory anywhere near her. I mean, if this is some plan to try and capture Rory then we need to stop it before we even involve her.”

Sam was nodding in agreement, “If it is (Y/N)?” he asked.

“I… I don’t know. I’m trying to not get my hopes up that it is. Nothing in this life has ever gone the way I want it too and I don’t expect that to start happening now. I mean, why in the hell would Chuck care about what I need? If he did, then mom would have never been killed and dad would still be here.” He answered setting his beer on the nightstand.

Sam took a drink of his before setting his next to Dean’s, “Maybe this is the way everything was meant to be, but (Y/N) dying was not supposed to be a part of his plan.”

Dean looked over to his brother with a skeptical glare, “Well, to be frank, Chuck’s plan sucks ass. I’m grateful to have Rory because that little girl has made everything worth it. I can’t imagine my life without her but… (Y/N)…” Dean could not form the sentence.

Sam placed his hand on his shoulder, “I know. Cas and I will go in the morning. For now, let’s try and get some sleep.”

He nodded as they both got ready for bed. Dean lied awake for hours with an unsettling feeling deep within him. He grabbed the extra key to Castiel’s room to go and do the one thing that always calmed his restlessness. As he walked into the room and stopped immediately seeing it was empty. Looking around, he did not see a note or anything and panic filled his body instantly.

Running back over to his room he flung the door open, “Sam get up!” he yelled startling Sam out of his deep slumber.

“Dean, what is it?” he asked groggily as Dean frantically put on his clothes.

“Cas and Rory are gone. I should have known, damn it!” he yelled as Sam was now getting his own clothes on.

“Do you think they went to see (Y/N)?” he asked following Dean out of the hotel room.

Dean nodded, “I should have known from the moment she asked to stay with Cas. She’s incredibly smart and knows she could get Cas to take her. Damn it!”

They got into the car and Dean sped over to the hospital mentioned in the new article. Being that it was the middle of the night, they easily slipped past the front desk and went in search of Rory and Castiel. When Dean spotted Castiel sitting outside one of the room his anger bubbled in his chest as his fist trembled by his side.

Castiel stood up holding his hands out, “Dean… wait. I know you’re angry…” he said as Dean grabbed the collar of his jacket.

“Angry does not begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. You can’t just take off with my daughter!” he yelled as Sam tried to pull him off the angel.

“Calm down Dean or we’re all going to get kicked out of here.” Sam said harshly looking around to make sure no one was actually around them.

Dean let go of Castiel stepping back from him, “What happened?” he asked keeping his eyes narrowed in on his friend.

“Rory, wanted to make sure that (Y/N) was really her before you saw her. She was trying to protect you because if it was not really (Y/N) then she could not watch you be disappointed.” Castiel’s explanation made his heart clench.

Since the day she had come into this world, Rory was doing what she always had told him she would. Protect him. Dean could not help the tears welling up in his eyes as he turned away from his friend wiping his eyes.

He chuckled, “You know I always forget that she is much stronger than any other ten-year-old girl. To me, she’s just my little girl who I must protect at all cost. However, she always ended up being the one who protects and saves me.” He turned back towards Castiel and Sam who was now standing beside him. “Is she… I mean…”

Castiel nodded opening the door. Dean gripped the front of his shirt just over his heart seeing (Y/N) lying there holding Rory. Their daughter was sleeping peacefully as (Y/N)’s hand was running over her golden hair. She looked up to him hearing the door opening and her (Y/C/E) eyes locked with his.

“Dean.” She said just barely above a whisper.

The sob burning in his chest escaped his lips as he made his way over to the side of her bed. He leaned his head down onto her chest letting out a year’s worth of emotions. He felt her fingers threading through his hair as her cheek pressed against the top of his head.

“She’s beautiful, Dean. You have done such an amazing job with her.” She whispered as he wrapped his arm around the both of them.

Lifting his head with tears streaming down his cheeks he pressed his lips against hers no longer being able to hold back. In that moment everything felt right in Dean’s world. Everything in his past that brought him to this moment made sense to him and his life was completely perfect. The how and the why of how (Y/N) was back would be explained later. Right now, all Dean wanted to do was enjoy the fleeting moment where he had everything he wanted.

The End.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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#waywardnerd67 #runaway series #epilogue #what you need #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester #Supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural #fluff #angst

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grifalinas · 7 years ago

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Testing out Battlescars as an original work. The scene below was written for the revamp, but I never got that far in posting, so no one will have read the original to compare to it (hence why I chose it). Enjoy.

-/-

Buck has never particularly been a fan of his birthday: having been born on Valentine’s Day, his life has been a series of being ignored by those preferring to celebrate their love over his birth. Even his own birth was overshadowed by the holiday; it’s hard to enjoy a day knowing his father chose being with his wife over attending the birth of his son. Affair or not, he feels as the man’s firstborn he should have warranted a look-in.

Still, a boy doesn’t turn sixteen every day, and turning sixteen means getting his license. He wakes up early in the morning and bangs on his dad’s door for ten minutes before dad finally answers, squinting sleepily down at his son. His glasses are askew and his hair is mussed, and Buck has a moment of being glad that it looks like he’s finally been sleeping again before he gets back to his purpose.

“You said you’d take me to get my license,” he says, by way of explanation.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know, like five? Ish?”

“What time does the DMV open?”

“...eight.”

Dad looks disgruntled for a moment, and turns to look longingly at his bed. Buck glances over as well, and looks away before he’s forced to register the large, human-shaped lump in the covers. He sighs. Of course his dad would be more interested in staying in bed with his lover than actually acknowledging his son’s birthday.

“One hour,” dad says finally, taking his glasses off to rub sleepily at his eyes. “We’ll stop somewhere for breakfast while we wait for the DMV to open.”

“Yeah?” Buck gives him a surprised look. “No kidding?”

“Am I in the habit of kidding?”

“Well, no, but…” He trails off, and takes a step back. “I’m gonna go get dressed!” he calls, turning to hurry back to his room.

-/-

Destiny gets back from her morning run just as Buck is getting out of the shower. She sits on his bathroom counter and watches him while he brushes his hair.

“So how does it feel to be sixteen?” she asks. “And what are you doing up so early? I thought you were allergic to the idea of two six o’clocks in one day.”

“Normally I am. Dad’s taking me to get my license.”

“The DMV doesn’t open till eight.”

“He’s taking me for breakfast first.”

“Ah.” She gives him a knowing look: she’s been in his position enough not to offer comment. “So what have you got planned for today? Apart from your license, I mean.”

“I dunno. Thought I’d borrow the car and take the guys up to Valhalla to catch a movie.”

This time the look she gives him is secretive and mischievous. He frowns, and turns to finish dressing rather than think about what it could mean.

-/-

After he finishes dressing, Buck heads downstairs, and finds dad drinking coffee while Victoria fries herself an egg. Dad is looking more put together now, but his collar isn’t quite high enough to hide the fresh bruise on his neck, the one that wasn’t there less than an hour ago. Buck suppresses a grumble and turns to making his own coffee rather than think too hard about it.

“Happy birthday,” Victoria says, moving out of the way so Buck can reach the coffee maker. “Are you looking forward to getting your license?”

“I mean.” Buck shrugs. “I just think it’ll be nice not to have to wait around for someone else to take me places, you know? By the way.” He turns his attention to his dad. “Do you mind if I borrow the car this evening? I want to take the guys up to the city for a movie.”

“Hmm…” Dad considers this, and exchanges a secretive look with Victoria. “...We’ll see,” he says. “I may need it, it is Valentine’s Day, after all.”

Buck fights down a scowl. “Gross,” he says, and stalks off to his room to wait till time to go.

-/-

The DMV is in Spiral, which is a bit of a drive that dad lets Buck handle; once they’re in the city, dad leaves it to Buck to decide where they’re going for breakfast. They end up going out for French toast, and after a breakfast that is only a little bit awkward, they head to the DMV, and make it not long after it’s opened.

There’s already a line formed, so they take their number and have a seat. Dad brought his computer and decides to get some work done, while Buck fills out the form he needs for his license.

“It’s a good thing I’m not legally blind yet,” he says, scratching his head with his pencil and staring at the part where he says he needs corrective lenses. “Think my eyesight is gonna end up as shitty as yours?”

“Probably,” dad says. “But I’m not quite bad enough to count as legally blind yet, so you shouldn’t need to worry, not for awhile.”

“At least Victoria is willing to do most of your driving for you,” Buck says, glancing at dad in his periphery. He’s starting to wonder about their relationship; he’d assumed they were just bennies, but now he’s not so sure.

“I do employ a driver, you know. Though it is fortunate that Victoria is willing to drive when we’d prefer our privacy, even from a driver.”

“Yeah, super fortunate.” Buck glances down at his form, only half completed. “So you guys really planning to do shit for Valentine’s, huh?”

Dad sighs. “Buck, do you truly want to have this conversation at the DMV, on your birthday? I would think you’d prefer to leave it for a later time.”

“So there is a conversation to be had.”

Another sigh, and dad turns his attention back to his computer. Buck scowls and goes back to filling out his form. After a moment, dad takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes.

“This is new territory for both of us,” he says finally. “I have been with no one else since- since she died, and Oliver is a wound still fresh and raw for Victoria. Neither of us is sure what we are or even what we want.” He adds, as an afterthought, “It was Victoria’s idea to spend Valentine’s together, not mine.”

“Big fucking shock,” Buck grumbles. He finishes filling out his form, and sets it aside in favor of taking out his phone.

“I don’t understand the problem,” dad says. He sounds frustrated. Buck scoffs.

“Of course you wouldn’t. Look, it- it doesn’t matter, okay? Let’s just drop it. I don’t get many good birthdays, let’s not ruin this one before it even gets off the ground.”

“Very well.”

From there, the wait for Buck’s test is silent, with dad working and Buck playing Mathlibs on his phone. It’s a relief when his number is called and he can head out, keeping to a walk just in case dad wants to wish him luck or something before his test.

Dad is silent. Buck isn’t sure what he was expecting, if he’s honest.

-/-

Buck passes his test- he messes up on parallel parking, but the instructor decides to let him by on the grounds of everything else being fine- and goes to wait in line to get his picture taken and his license made. Once he has it, he heads back over to dad, who is packing up his computer so they can go.

“How did your picture turn out?” dad asks.

“Not great.” Buck squints at it. He’d at least had the foresight to take his ponytail out, so his head isn’t shaped weird. He hands it to dad to look at.

“You look so unimpressed,” dad observes, handing it back. Buck snorts.

“Yeah, well, I mean. If I get pulled over, I’m gonna be unimpressed.”

“Fair enough. It’s not a particularly flattering photo, but license photos never are.”

“It didn’t exactly have much to work with. Puberty is not doing me any favors over here.”

Dad gives him a sidelong look, and looks amused. “I think you look very handsome, Buck.”

“That’s because I look like you and you’re full of yourself.”

“Perhaps.” They stop near the car, and dad hands him the keys. “Care to drive?”

“Hell yeah!” He takes the keys and slides into the driver’s seat. “You need to stop anywhere on the way home?”

“I was actually thinking we might go to the mall, so you can be allowed to pick out your birthday present.”

“Whoa.” Buck turns and raises an eyebrow at him. “Who are you, and what have you done with my dad?”

“Very funny.”

“No seriously! You’re doing all this nice shit for me today. You never do that.”

“It’s not every day my son turns sixteen.” He mirrors Buck’s expression. “Am I not allowed to dote a bit?”

“I mean- I guess you are- I just-” He trails off, and distracts himself by focusing on getting the car out of the parking lot and into traffic. “Look, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go to the mall so you can buy me that limited edition Luna Brothers Gamebuddy that just came out.”

“Don’t you already have a Gamebuddy?”

“Well, yeah, but this one is embossed with a picture of Max on the cover. That makes it better.”

“What is Luna Brothers?”

“Just this dumb show about monsters that my friends watch. I only want the Gamebuddy so they’ll all be jealous.”

“That so?” Dad doesn’t look like he believes him, but he doesn’t reply in favor of checking the text his phone just alerted him to. He turns to look out the window, and Buck sees a secretive smile reflected in the window. He winces and turns his attention back to the road, trying to find some way to get dad’s attention away from- no doubt- Victoria.

“Uh, yeah, it’s about these brothers who were orphaned as kids and then this really shady dude took them in. And the younger brother babysits for his classmate’s little brother, that’s Max… uh… my friends all say that Max reminds them of me, actually, which is kinda cool, cause he’s really funny and gets all the best lines.”

Dad looks interested, so Buck launches into an explanation of The Luna Brothers, pleased when he puts his phone down in the seat for awhile. Buck doesn’t often have his dad’s undivided attention, and he’s going to enjoy it while he does.

He’s able to keep the conversation going the whole time they’re at the mall shopping- dad gets him the new Gamebuddy, and several new games and a Mud Mummies t-shirt as well- and then they go out for lunch. On the drive home, they play Mathlibs, with dad running the board and Buck supplying the equations, and it’s honestly one of the best birthdays Buck has ever had.

He spends the whole time waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When they get home, Victoria’s car is there in the drive, and Victoria comes out to meet them before Buck has even got the car into the garage. She looks smug. Granted, she always looks smug, but this seems situationally specific. Buck resists the urge to groan. There’s that other shoe, it seems.

Buck slams the car door a little more than he meant to and heads for the door, but dad catches his shoulder with one hand to stop him.

“Where are you going?”

“Inside,” Buck says. “I gotta call the guys and see if we had any homework from today.”

“In a moment. I want you to see something in the backyard.”

“Fine.”

Buck follows them out of the garage to the backyard, hanging back and watching the way they walk together. He doesn’t really see anything different- there’s a good foot or so of space between them, and they’ve got their hands behind their backs while they walk. But they also keep glancing at each other and speaking quietly.

He’s so busy watching them he doesn’t quite realize they’ve stopped until he nearly barrels into them. They’re both looking at him expectantly, so he looks around, wondering what it was they brought him back here to see-

“That’s a car,” he says. There’s a Scorpion in the yard, cornflower blue and brand new. He looks up at his dad. “Is that mine?”

“You knew you were getting it.” Dad looks smug.

“Yeah, but I thought-” He thought he’d have to wait for dad to get around to it. “-I didn’t know it was coming today.”

“It did. Do you still want to borrow the car tonight?”

Buck rolls his eyes, unable to disguise how pleased he looks. “Whatever.” He moves over to the car, wanting to look at it but not quite daring to. He’ll be the first of his friends to have his own vehicle- not counting Manny, who has a truck but is Destiny’s friend more than his anyway. Mano and Lys have both had their licenses for ages but they’re still using the family vehicles.

“Unfortunately it wasn’t available in green,” dad says, moving to join him. “But we can easily have it painted if you’d prefer it.”

Since when does his dad actually know his favorite color? Buck shakes his head. “No, blue is fine, the shade of green I like doesn’t look right on cars.” He gives dad a hopeful look. “Can I drive it?”

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

“Right. Mine. Keys?”

Victoria passes them over, and Buck slides into the car. He hadn’t wanted a scorpion, and had complained when dad told him that’s what he was getting, but he doesn’t mind so much now that he’s sitting it in. True, it’s big and clunky and made to be sturdy more than anything, but it’s more than any of his friends have. He cranks up, and lets the window down so he can lean out of it.

“I think I’ll go up to the school and show it off,” he says. “See you later.”

He drives off, leaving dad and Victoria standing in the yard.

-/-

Once he’s gone, they head inside.

“Did you enjoy your day out?” Victoria asks. Cyrus nods.

“Have you ever heard of The Luna Brothers?”

Victoria hums an affirmative. “It’s very popular right now. Manny and Donut watch it together sometimes. I believe it is universally agreed among their friends that Max is a toddler, cartoon version of Buck.”

“How do you even know that?”

“I pay attention.”

Cyrus shakes his head. He hasn’t missed the jab. “Do you think I’ve made up last month to him with that?”

“I think it will take more than one good birthday and a car to make up for…” She hesitates. “...last month.” Victoria touches Cyrus’s hand, levels on him a pointed look. “Some indication that there will not be a repeat of last month would go a long way.”

Cyrus shoots him a look, then turns and heads back to his study. “What did you have in mind for tonight?” he asks.

Behind him, Victoria sighs and follows. “Nothing fancy. Dinner would be nice.”

-/-

#pirate writes stuff #battlescars the original work #note that some of the names and stuff in this are placeholders #i'll work out the rest later

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1dffsummerexchange · 7 years ago

Text

Fixed Stars Govern A Life

Written For: @wendydarlingfics

Written By: (orphaned)

Pairing: Harry/OFC

Word Count: 8,740

Warnings: minor mentions of addiction, sexual content

Summary:

I was drowning in the ocean inside of the man I thought I loved. The man I thought that loved me too, pushed me off the edge into a storming sea I had no chance fighting off. I was drowning, and he was the one who bound my hands and latched five heavy words to my feet to drag me to the bottom of his sea. Five words and they still hurt like hell.

“I asked for a divorce.”

Session 1: Chelsea, London, age: 23

Harry did not look at me. The man sitting in front of us was contemplating the file lying open on his desk, and I could not shake the feeling that he was judging us. The minute that passed without a word from anyone in the room felt like an eternity so when Doctor Marcus Farley finally closed the file to trade it for his notebook and the black pen he had been fidgeting with I can’t help but let a sigh slip through my clenched teeth.

Although my gaze was fixed stoically on the not moving clock above Doctor Farley, I could swear Harry’s gaze turned to stare a hole into the side of my head when I made the slight noise.

“I don’t usually take on clients on short notice but your Lawyer, Mr Styles, is a dear friend of mine and he insisted that I take both of you in.”

This time Harry completely ignored my scoff when his slow drawl filled the room. “Yeah, Mr Horan can be quite persuasive.”

Persuasive my ass. If it hadn’t been for the continuous push from his sister and me to convince Harry to consider therapy before throwing everything away without looking back, we’d never be sitting here at all.

“So how long have you been married, Mrs Styles?” “Actually, It’s not Styles. I never took his name. Just-“ I stopped, mouth slightly ajar as I chanced a look at Harry beside me. My husband seemed to be void of any emotion as his blank stare ahead acted like a black hole waiting for me to fall into. I turned back to face Doctor Farley who was busy scribbling something down into his notebook. “Just call me Nora. Please.”

It took him a second until he looked up again, and I could feel the weight of his written words already lying on my chest. Great. Not even five minutes in and I’d already given him something to judge about. Harry too seemed to be curious as to what the doctor had written, as he abandoned his nonchalant position in his chair to lean his upper body forward until his elbows were resting on his thighs.

When it became clear that I would not be speaking again anytime soon, Harry took over, sounding distracted, “We got married four years ago and have been in a Relationship for seven.”

Doctor Farley hummed while he went back to writing in his notebook. I waited for him to finish and I cursed the urge to take a look at the expression on Harry’s face.

“Childhood love, then?”, “Something like that.” Harry hesitated, not willing to give any further information even as the man observing us raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

“We hated each other.” I blurred, and I immediately cursed my voice for sounding so insecure.

“I wouldn’t call it hate-“,”Oh please, we kept throwing things at each other, and I remember more than just a few incidents where we both ended up in detention just because we couldn’t keep away from each other’s throat.” I huffed, underlining my little outburst by crossing my arms over my chest. I did realise that it made me look like a stubborn five-year-old, but I didn’t care.

Harry looked affronted, but our therapist kept a straight face and closed his notebook. “Before we begin to talk about your relationship more deeply I need to know if there is a specific reason why you are here today.”

I didn’t really feel in the position to give him an answer and turned to look at Harry instead just to find his eyes already on me. I had let my guard slip for a moment, but it was long enough to take me back to the edge of the black hole that he had created just for me and that I hated so much. I was drowning in the ocean inside of the man I thought I loved. The man I thought that loved me too, pushed me off the edge into a storming sea I had no chance fighting off. I was drowning, and he was the one who bound my hands and latched five heavy words to my feet to drag me to the bottom of his sea. Five words and they still hurt like hell.

“I asked for a divorce.”

Part 2: Home, Soho, London, age: 23

No one ever told me that separation would be so difficult to define. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to feel awkward as we both boarded the waiting taxi outside of Doctor Farley’s office, ready to take both of us home to our flat. Was it normal for us to still be living together? Shouldn’t Harry, out of courtesy and because it is the proper thing to do, move out of our place to give me space? I didn’t have an answer to any of that questions, and I felt annoyance starting to bubble inside my mind because I didn’t think of asking our new Therapist those questions when I had the chance to. Harry himself seemed to be deep in thoughts as he silently held the door for me open before getting into the cab himself. Neither of us said a word during the entire ride.

---

I walked out of the kitchen through the dining room and into the lounge. The steaming bowl of food I was trying to balance on top of my notebook, several scripts and the sad and beaten looking pencil case demanded too much of my attention to notice that the couch was already occupied by Harry. Not actually planning to I pause, and I wondered if I should just turn back around and eat in the kitchen instead, but he was quicker than I am and was already on his feet before I had finished my thought. He opted to turn in the opposite direction towards his office, and the click of his door pierced through me even before I had reached the couch to sit.

I fought the urge to sink into the warm spot Harry had left behind and reluctantly chose the other side of the couch instead.

Silence, I discovered, is actually something you can hear. Even my own chewing was too loud for my ears, and I quickly lost any sense of appetite.

Throughout our relationship – in the beginning, and marriage – we had always tried to at least eat one meal of the day in the company of each other.

Especially since Harry’s and Louis’s record label started to take off and I had been busy with my job at the publishing house, it had become one of our most adamant rules to find the time to eat together. Now he was sitting in his office, alone, doing who knows what and I was pretty sure, that the left over dinner I had put aside for him would go uneaten once again.

I sighed and chanced a look at the closed door, my gaze landing on one of the many pictures hanging on the too white wall. Although a lot of different faces were smiling back at me, only one of the photographs showed Harry and myself together. It was the only picture taken at our wedding four years ago, and if I didn’t know that it was taken just seconds after we became husband and wife officially, I wouldn’t be able to see it. Neither of us was wearing something you’d expect a bride and groom to wear on their big day. But then again, our wedding certainly didn’t fit the traditional picture. Neither of our families was present. No friends, no parents and not a single sibling to be seen. They hadn’t known that we were going to get married and to be fair, neither had we. It was a spur of the moment. We eloped, and now, four years later, we were about to get a divorce.

When there was something I hated with a passion, then it was clichés. And I was just about to become one myself. Sad, 23 years-old me stared at happy, 19 years-old me as she clung to Harry’s left arm, her gaze not fixed on the camera but on her new husband. Oh if she’d known what was going to happen just a few years down the road. I wondered if she’d still be smiling at him like that. I certainly no longer did, when I looked at the man in the picture. I exhaled a huff and looked back down into my lap where several scripts still lay waiting for me to page through them. I’d usually work until Harry would finish in his office so we could go to bed together. I still held on to that routine even though we now inhabited two different bedrooms. My new routine was to work until Harry would try to sneak out of his office and into the guest bedroom on the other side of our loft. So when the clock struck two in the morning, and he still had not made his way out of his office, I had to fight against the heaviness dragging down my eyelids.

When I lost my fight twenty minutes later, it would be another two hours until the door that always seemed to close on me finally creaked open. But of course, I didn't notice, and I did not stir from my much-needed sleep. So when I woke to the noise of dishes banging in the kitchen, I do wonder if I dragged the blanket over my heavy body myself or if Harry found it in him to show some sort of tenderness towards me.

Secretly, I welcomed the noise he was making from the kitchen because it was the only thing that was strong enough to fight the silence he had invited into our relationship. For I have discovered, that silence is something you can actually hear. And I have never wished for anything as much as for the silence to disappear.

Part 3: Session 2, Chelsea, London, Age: 23

"Perhaps, if he didn’t feel the need to provoke me with the same argument every time, we wouldn’t be sitting here today," I told him while purposely looking towards my frowning husband.

I thought it had been fairly obvious, but when I finished my thought, I found Harry giving me an incredulous look. I jerked my head and raised my eyebrows as a silent What? To his narrowed eyes.

I dropped my arms that were crossed over my chest as if I was expecting a blow to my heart any second when I realised that it might come across as insecure. You start to have that kind of thoughts when you begin seeing a Therapist. Those self-conscious worries, steadily nagging on your mind, turning you into a paranoid mess.

"It might be a good idea, to start with the little things, Nora. What is it that bothers you about Harry?"

Harry’s jaw clenched at his question, and I could see that it took him quite the amount of self-control to fight the urge to defend himself. But just this once he wasn’t allowed to. See, Doctor Farley was set on following his rules where one of them just happened to be, if the question is not directed at you, you are not allowed to talk, except you are given the clear go ahead from him oneself.

“And have you ever told that to Harry directly, Nora?"

"Yeah, but he is the one who keeps bringing it up."

"What is it you usually fight about?"

"Work. Moving house." I told him and moved my gaze upwards toward the high ceilings of his office. "But that too kind of has to do with our work situation."

"Why is that Harry?" He said, and I did not expect him to shift his focus onto the man beside me.

I didn't actually think that Harry would answer, but he surprised me when he sounded sincere. "We both have busy schedules. Me with my record label and Nora with her publishing work." Harry paused and raises his left hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "For me, one of the biggest issues is that we spent the majority of last year travelling. But not with each other. If I was heading to LA, she was off to Prague or Paris or some other city. I mean, sure, this is something where we both are at fault but-"

"Oh, not this again, you and I both know that this is not happening on fair grounds here-" I tried, but Doctor Farley was quick to stop me in my outburst.

"Nora, please."

"But-" I tried again, but he was giving me that look that clearly meant business. Fine.

"What were you trying to say, Harry?"

"The Thing is, with Nora," Harry changed the position on his chair, shifting his entire weight toward the edge of it, the words now rushing out of him. "- It would be possible for her to bring her work wherever she goes. So there is no real reason for her not to come with me whenever I have to go to the states."

Both men chose to ignore my humpf, and I slumped into my seat, arms back to being crossed over my chest.

"Have you been there often over the last year?"

"At least once a month for a week. Sometimes two."

"He bought a house there without telling me." I offered, trying to gain back some ground in this discussion.

"I talked to you about it–"

"No-" I waved my finger at him, "you told me that you thought about it. The next thing I know we are suddenly owners of a house I’ve never set foot in nor that I ever plan to."

"Yeah, because you are stubborn." he growled, and I smiled sweetly at him in return.

"Harry, please." Doctor Farley starred at us for a second, clearly trying to establish some sort of even ground before he continued, " Nora, why are you so sure, that you won’t be going to see the house?"

"Because I hate LA. I despise that place."

"How can you say that? That’s where I proposed to you. Jesus, we even got married in California. Where is this coming from?" he muttered the last bit, and I nearly snapped at him for being such a git.

"I just do, ok. I don’t like what it does to you. Us. It’s like you become this completely different person, every time you return from that god forsaken place." I was happy about the frown he gave me. Satisfied, I turned back to look at Marcus, who too was looking at Harry.

"It’s like I am married to two different men. The Harry I know that doesn’t put up with any bullshit, the one that I agreed to marry and then there is this version of him who can’t get enough of spending his time with those people-"

"They are my friends-"

"-And all they care about are their looks, their bodies, the latest trends to follow, being famous. That is not you. That is not the person I want to spend my life with."

"Those are the people I work with, Nora. You’d find plenty of those here in London if you’d just-"

"You and I both know that that is not true. We have friends here. Dear friends. Why should I give that up just to move to a place on the other side of the world? I don’t want that."

"It’s not like we’d be spending the rest of our lives in LA-" he stopped and took a deep breath. When he started speaking again, his voice was back to the deep drawl I am used to.

"Marriage is about compromises, Nora. And-"

"Exactly. I don’t want to go to the states. Deal with it."

Part 4: Isle of Wight, England, Age: 19

I have never been a morning person.

And still, it was 6:34 am, and I was not in bed where I was supposed to be but on the beach. It was nowhere near as nice as I had remembered my times at the beach to be. Granted those were usually taking place somewhere in the south where the sun was brutal on my skin, and the sand on my too white legs would be easy to brush off once the heat had robbed it from every ounce of water it possessed. But those memories are not strong enough to make up for the harsh weather and cold morning wind on the beach I was currently at.

It was that sort of day where you would not be able to tell whether it was morning, afternoon or evening approaching. Everything was grey, the sky, the air around me and the wet sand beneath my feet. The only contrast fighting the dullness was the wild and angry water which stretched like an endless belt along the beach.

I have never been a morning person, and I despised the cold that has become the newest tenant inside my bones. Harry is just a small figure somewhere to my right as he tried to capture the wind that won’t take mercy on the dark blue waves ahead of us with his newest camera. I was supposed to stay in bed, stay asleep while he sneaks out the door of our tiny hotel room to get some good pictures of the sea with the toy I had given to him for his birthday last week.

But I woke when I no longer could feel his heart beating beneath my ear and the addict that I am, I offered to come along for an early morning stroll. “But it is raining,” he tried, smoothing over my tousled hair as I struggled to untangle my limbs from the many blankets that were supposed to keep out the cold ocean nights. (Spoilers, my toes would have been tragically lost to the cold if it weren’t for Harry’s hot calves).

“I don’t mind, really”, I told him, while I actually meant, I’d rather be wherever you are for I am an addict and you are my drug. But of course, I would never admit those thoughts to Harry out loud, and I’d sooner die than confess that I am no longer sure if that was a bad thing or not.

“You sure? I could pick you up in a few hours to get some breakfast.”, “I’m sure. Trust me. Besides, I get to wear the wellies you bought me for Christmas”. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. The weather is quite brutal today.”

So I went along. And because I am not a morning person and the coat I brought along to keep out the wind did not as it was supposed to, I decided to walk along the beach to get my blood pumping again.

Harry had not exaggerated when he had told me that the weather was brutal that morning. The wind kept attacking every surface of my body, and the sea wasn’t the only one having difficulties to withstand its power. The way the air rushed over the many big rocks scattered around the beach reminded me of Harry’s breath streaming through his teeth when he was kissing me the night before.

The water lapses over my toes that are well protected by the bright yellow plastic of my boots and from where I am standing, Harry’s silhouette mixes with the misty air dominating over the British coast. I have to squeeze my eyes until only a last few light streams make it to my eyes and I am no longer sure if the fuzzy little blob on the top of the hill guarding the sand and its waves is actually my boyfriend or something else indistinguishable.

My Gaze turns back to the endless angry black before me, and I marvel at the power it is showing. Even in its agitated state, the wind beating the water causing white streaks among breaking waves, I can’t help thinking of Harry. Even its current anger and violence reminds me of him, how it fights against the obstacles it faces. It will always remain where it is, the sea, the ocean, constantly changing but still the same. Whether it was calmly licking the shoreline with soft strokes like the heart beating in his chest. Or the silence at its deepest point where I would find myself, every time he was near me.

Sometimes it felt like he had created that space inside of him just for me to exist. It’s a blessing and a curse at the same time. It is a blessing when I am desperate for a place to forget the world around me and it is a curse when I can’t find my way back to the surface again.

I did not see him coming nor did I notice that he had left his position on that tiny hill guarding the beach. But I knew the waves of heat that usually pulsed off his tall form like the lines on my hands. So I knew it was him when his fingers wound around my wrist and his lips found a home beside my ear.

For a second I was afraid of turning back around to face him, for I might not find my boyfriend Harry but the ocean itself trying to lure me into its dangerous darkness. But of course, what I find are Harry’s warm eyes and his usual heart-melting smile.

I turn around completely, my front pressing into his, and rest my closed lips against his pulse, basking in the feeling of drowning in my favourite sea. Like I said, I was an addict and Harry was my drug. Another second passes until his lips return to my right ear and he grants me with an, ”Come on, let’s go.”

I do not know where we are going, but I know the feeling of Harry's breath down my neck as we wait for a car to pass so we could cross the road towards our own vehicle. We wait, and he draws my body to his own, his warmth enveloping my whole being. I do not know where the streets lead we are driving on but I know the feeling of Harry's fingers gliding over the inside of my wrists as he steers the car along the winding roads that part the beach and the dunes on either side.

I was content, with Harry by my side, because I was an addict and Harry was my favourite drug.

What I didn’t know then was that just a month later, we’d be standing on another beach. A beach that would be much warmer and much more friendly than the one we were at today. A beach that played guard for a city named after angles. How could there be any harm? I didn't know that I would begin to hate that beach, that city it guarded with every year that went by.

The sky resting above it would be blue and orange and pink and yellow and the sun trying to hide behind the edge would be red and white and purple.

But I wouldn’t notice because Harry will stand behind me, his arms keeping me a willing prisoner and I would feel his lips on my neck, his breath too warm with the Californian heat surrounding us. I wouldn’t notice how the sweat travelling down my back disappeared into the fabric of my worn out shirt that I loved so much.

I wouldn’t notice because Harry will be standing behind me, his arms holding me hostage his lips blocking my ear. I wouldn’t notice because Harry will be whispering promises in my ears and five words, that will pull me under for good.

Just a month from now, he will push me down his well for the very first time, and I won’t resurface until many years have gone by. I will fall with Harry’s words attached to my heavy form. And I won't mind one bit because I would feel Harry’s arms surrounding me and his breath travelling down my sweaty neck, carrying his words over my entire body until they found a home in my heart.

“Nora, will you marry me?”

Part 5: Session 3, Chelasea, London, Age: 23

“Are there any issues with your physical relationship? Has anything changed since you have been married?” Farley asked, fixing his eyes on Harry. “Harry?”

“I have never been not attracted to my wife.”

My eyes snapped from the clock above Doctor Farley’s head to find Harry stoically looking our therapist dead in the eye. I was surprised and a bit speechless as I actually am not able to recall the last time we had shared a bed myself.

“Then Harry what is the problem, do you think, in your relationship?”

I exhaled a huff and nodded. “Yeah Dear, do enlighten us because I for my part cannot remember when the last time was where I was sleeping in the same bed as you.”

“Nora, please let Harry talk. You will have the opportunity to contribute to the discussion in a second.” Doctor Farley - or Marcus - Because Doctor Farley just wouldn't do any longer - especially if he decided to dive straight in before more than two minutes of our session today had even passed, countered.

“So nothing has changed in your eyes, you still feel attracted to Nora?”

I swallowed hard, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth. “No, I don’t think that will ever go away. I love Nora. I can confidently say that she is the love of my life but just because it is love doesn’t mean it won’t destroy me, or us, over time."

Here we go. I wished I wouldn't find a spot for his words in my ribcage, but they belonged there as much as his Love you's and his pet names for me. I knew what he was going to say next and because I am more of the "Rip-off-the-band-aid-as-fast-as-you-can" sort of girl, I did him a favour and spoke those words so he wouldn't have to.

“We don’t fit” I whispered. Because this was the conversation we’ve had many times before - but those words were not used to hurt each other, but something we marvelled about together.

They did not fit. They had always known that. And for them, that was the reason why they had decided to get married in the first place.

We do not fit. We knew it, our families and friends knew it, and that was fine because we loved each other. What else would you need to share a happy life together? To hell with being compatible. We had two different worlds beneath our feet, ready to explore the other when we didn’t feel like dealing with our own. I was the sky, home to stars and galaxies and whole universes. And Harry was the ocean, the sea, the dark water which would swallow everything it could find. He would carry anyone that needed to travel from coast to coast.

I was the sky, and he was the ocean, designated to never touch but always able to see one another.

That was what kept our relationship going, those differences, our differences. Or at least I thought so until he brought it up when our therapist asked us what the problem was in his eyes.

I looked at Harry, sitting beside me talking about our past, our life and our future with a man that was supposed to build a bridge to bring together what was never destined to be one. I looked at Harry, my husband, the love of my life, the ocean.

I looked at him, speaking and not hearing a single word that left the lips that have become as familiar as my own. And for the first time since he had asked that damn question I had to wonder if he was not asking for the impossible after all. What if I was the one who tried to fight physics by demanding the ocean and the sky to merge into one? What if I was the one being the unreasonable part of this mission?

I was not sure if I would keep loving Harry forever, especially if he decided to discard me like that. How can you love the person that had pushed you into a black hole to drown?

Those thoughts cancel out both men talking, and I can’t help but think about a future without Harry by my side, for the rest of our session.

Part 6: Session 4, Chelsea, London, Age: 23

"Nora has a strong belief in soulmates."

"Do you think that she regards you as her soulmate?"

"No. But I can’t stop feeling like she is trying to change me until I fit the part."

"What do you mean by that, Harry?" I frowned, and Harry shrugged.

"I don’t think she really means to; I can’t shake the feeling that she keeps trying to change me into her perfect match." He tried, and I scowled through his entire explanation.

"As if I am supposed to change and mould into something I am not.

Like those little things that bother her about me. Those places where we do not fit."

"I am not-" I tried to object, but just like always, Marcus stepped right in to cut me off with a stern look clearly saying to let Harry finish.

"Harry, why did you decide to propose to Nora?" Marcus asked, looking over the stack of papers on his desk.

Harry did the most unhelpful thing and shrugged like some teenager would when asked what they were up to. "I felt like it at the moment."

"But you do not now?" Marcus asked, looking surprised for once.

"No, that is not what I meant."

"It felt like it was right at that time, so I proposed. We were standing on that beach, and all I could think about was that I just couldn’t imagine a situation where she would not be standing beside me any longer."

"Yeah. But that is not enough to get married, is it?–" I butt in before Marcus had the chance to scold me again, and I quickly added: "Right at that time" as a murmured afterthought. My eyes were fixed on the wall behind Marcus not really seeing anything but the blue paint.

"What is your position on that, Nora?"

"There are times where I regret getting married." There it was. I didn’t dare turn my head to face Harry.

Marcus contemplated me for a second, turned toward his notebook, scribbled a few words down on the blank page and then returned his full attention back to me. "You do? Why is that?"

"I just think that if we had waited a few years and just stayed engaged, we’d not be having the problems we are having now."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, looking alarmed.

" I mean, just that-" I groaned and tried to rub away the throbbing in my left temple. "-God, this is going to sound so stupid."

"Nothing you say will be judged, Nora."

"See, we would be so much more flexible if we were engaged instead of married. It is easier to put an engagement on hold if we happened to face a problem we could not deal with at the moment. It would be much simpler to reconcile after a break. But putting marriage on hold? That’s impossible, isn’t it? You can’t just take a break from being married."

"Says who?" Marcus offered, smiling a smile that was supposed to evoke trust in us but only rubbed me the wrong way.

"Well, I do. It just wouldn’t feel proper. Whatever we’d be doing while being apart would feel like a betrayal to the other."

"But if we weren’t married it wouldn’t?" Harry asked, supporting his head with his arm resting on the arm rest of his chair, his eyes fixed on me.

I blinked in surprise at how calm he sounded and turned to find his no sign of anger in his eyes. "No, I don’t think so. At least the pressure wouldn’t be this heavy."

"Pressure from whom?" Farley asked, looking over the notes in the notebook on his lap.

"Him, me, our families. I don’t know. I just don’t think that we'd be able to pick this up again if we were to get divorced. It would be like destroying a bond between us that can never be fixed again."

Farley hummed, and I watched as the lines appeared on his forehead.

"Harry, why did you ask for a divorce?"

But Harry didn't answer, a puzzled look on his face and his eyes trained on me as if I was a stranger he was just introduced to.

He stared at me and the sneer on my face melted away.

"Harry?" Farley broke our silent exchange, and Harry's eyes snapped back to our Therapist.

"Yeah. Uhm. I guess I wanted to relieve the pressure like Nora said. Take a break. I mean, love is a tricky thing. There are too many layers, and nothing is just black and white. I’d continue loving Nora, but we wouldn’t have to keep up with those expectations around our marriage. We both are hurting. Isn’t it kinder to just let go?"

"But Harry, there is nothing the two of you have to justify yourself for," Marcus argued, and for once I felt some kind of alliance toward that man, especially when he did nothing to stop the word vomit coming from my tired mind.

"Damn right we don't. Who fucking cares what others think? Who cares how we choose to live our marriage? It is no one’s business how we define this relationship. We can still make this work if we just set the rules anew. Define our own, to hell with the rest." I sniffed at him, moving my upper body to face him.

"You want to travel to LA every two weeks? Fine. Go ahead. I don’t mind. As long as you return to our flat here in London. I. don’t. Care. As long as you do not betray me with someone else, I don’t care what you do. We define our marriage. We can do what we want." I huffed the last part and Harry looked more confused than ever.

"So you suggested a divorce because you felt like the pressure from others was too much for you both to handle? Or did you want to see Nora’s reaction? Maybe even hurt her as much as she has been hurting you with her refusing to make adjustments to her life so it would fit better to yours?" Marcus offered and I watched as Harry slowly turned his head to look at Marcus again, but he quickly snapped his eyes back to me when I whispered, “I refused the position at head office."

Harry looked surprised while Marcus offered me a slight smile.

“What? Why?” Harry frowned which made me frown because I had expected him to react differently. But not Harry was the one who looked happy but Marcus who granted me with a warm “That's good. That's really good Nora.”

When the confusion on Harry's face wouldn't lift, I turned to him and murmured, “Marcus told us to start making more compromises for each other, so I did. When they asked I declined. Easy like that.”

Harry stared back at me, and something like panic was starting to fill my bones. What if he didn’t care if I decided to finally put some effort into our relationship? What if Harry was not willing to do the same? Neither of us said anything else, so Marcus took back control by returning to his earlier question for Harry.

“Do you actually feel like there is a reason for you to let go of this marriage?"

There was silence, and my ears started ringing with the noise taking over my mind.

"I don’t know." Harry breathed.

Both of his hands moved to rub his tired face. And he reminded me so much of the Harry I’d usually find between our white sheets, on a lazy Sunday morning that my breath caught for a moment in my throat.

"But I do know that I can’t go on like this. It is wrecking us both. And what is a marriage worth if all it does is destroy us in the end."

I had nothing else to say to that.

Part 7: Chelsea, London, outside Dr. Farley's office, Age: 23

Marcus's office was located on the second floor of a fancy looking building hidden in between two narrow streets in the heart of Chelsea. From our first session onwards, the lift had not been working, and so we were doomed to climb and descend that staircase every Thursday afternoon. Like a heart, beating twice before falling still for another seven days.

Pure panic was chasing through my veins, and I did not have a plan for what I was about to do. I was going to burst, and I would not go down on my own. I was taking Harry with me, whether he liked it or not. The power would be back in my hands for once, and I couldn’t wait for the relief that would follow.

I stopped Harry in his tracks by grasping the hand that was reaching for the old and beaten looking bannister. I was standing a step above his own and just this once my eyes were level with his.

"Listen, Harry. I appreciate that you agreed to the Therapy and I get why you want to split. I really do."

"But I can't do this anymore. I am suffocating. I have been from the moment you asked me for a divorce. Actually, I think I have been trying to catch my breath for quite some while now, Just-" I turned to look behind me, fearing for Marcus to interrupt us any second. But when my eyes were finished inspecting every single spot on the empty floor with any sign of the therapist, I relaxed a bit. So when I started to speak again, my voice was not rushed but soothing, nearly whispering the string of promises for Harry's ears only.

"You want a break? Fine with me. I’ll give you all the time you need. Just don’t cut that bond, Harry. Don’t push me off the edge. That pain would be far worse than the one I feel right now."

Harry paused, and too glanced around the empty corridor, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Not here, Nora, please."

"Why not? Why can’t you just do it already."

"Do what?"

"Break me. Please just do it I can’t keep doing this anymore. Do you have any idea how it feels to be so up in the air? Not knowing how this is going to end? I can’t keep doing this any longer."

"What do you mean?" he sounded alarmed, and I praised the heavens above for the storm returning to Harry's eyes.

"Therapy, living with you under the same roof when you clearly no longer want to be with me."

"But I do. I- Look, I do want to stay with you Nora, I honestly do, but we are both breaking with every day that passes. We are destroying each other and to what cause? If we keep going like that there will be nothing left of us. Nothing left worth living for."

"Then why are we here Harry? Why do we have to prolong this pain? Why did you agree to Therapy if you think like that?"

"I don’t want to lose you. But I’m not even sure if I already have.”

And I snap. I lunged towards him, falling off my step and into his chest, my arms snaking around his waist.

Harry didn't hesitate and answered my embrace by sneaking both his hands under my coat and tugging me even tighter to his body. His next words were mere whispers somewhere near my hairline, but they could have easily been waves crashing against a shoreline.

"I want to stay with you, but our lives won’t move in the same direction anymore. No relationship is made to survive that sort of strain."

"I don’t think that there is any pain stronger than the pain you are causing me right now."

"I never intended to cause you pain, love."

"Then why does it hurt so much? Why does Loving you hurt so much?" and instead of pushing him away, I pulled him closer to me until my face was buried into his chest.

I mumbled, my voice lost in the fabric o his shirt.

"Please just end this already. Make a decision. I don't think I’ll survive another day in this limbo. Please, Harry."

In a desperate attempt to convince him, I rose to the tip of my toes and pressed my lips against his own. His mouth cautiously pressed against my upper lip but when I made a sound- nothing more than a small sigh- he opened his mouth, his breath fawning over my face. His sweet, moist breath dancing over my always too pale cheeks.

I couldn’t say if the last kiss we shared was mere hours ago, or if it had been years, but it still felt like I was coming home. I was an addict and Harry was my drug. I was an addict on a serious withdrawal, and Harry was about to fix that. His lips on my cheek made me squeeze my eyes shut, tears threatening to pool at the corner of my eyes.

I felt the breath more than I heard it, his shoulders tensing under my tight grasp. I tried to struggle against his pull, but of course, I was no match for him, and he managed to pull me away far enough to look me directly in the eyes.

His hand moved under my chin, and I found his eyes warm rather than angry. I didn't think I would find my voice after that and apparently, Harry had problems too because his next sentences were mere murmurs.

" Ok. Ok. Look. Just give me tonight. As soon as I know, I’ll come and find you. Please, Nora. Just this night. I promise it will end."

I was too much of a coward to actually whisper the words for him to hear but they were jumping in my head like they were trying to break through my skull. Please don’t leave me. Please chose me. Please don’t leave.

But I nodded instead and watched silently as he descended the stairs, shoulders hunched, feet dragging.

My heart with him.

Part 8: Cab, approaching Soho, London, Age: 23

The air in the cab was sweet and cumbersome on my mind, and I did not like it one bit. I felt like a sore nail among the many people on the streets and in the cars and buses around me. My face was covered in makeup and sweat, and I knew for a fact that the mascara on my right eye had lost the fight against my tears and found a new home on my lower lid.

Despite my sour mood and the still drying tears on my cheeks I couldn’t help but marvel over my lips still tingling from kissing Harry again. I didn’t pay any attention to the glances the driver kept giving me through his rear-view mirror. Who cares if I looked like a mess. Who cares that I reeked of the day I had to face today. I certainly didn’t. I no longer cared. Why should I. I might no longer have a husband in the morning and even worse, I might be about to lose my best friend in the process. I left my heart, my soul and all my stars on those steps leading to Doctor Farley's office and I did not know if Harry was ever going to pick them up again.

Yes, we were not made for each other. Yes, life for both of us would be much easier in the end if we went our separate ways. But who wants easy if you could have love.

The sort of Love that was dangerous. That would constantly threaten your existence with its flames licking at your bones. I loved that feeling. I loved that Harry was the ocean and I was the sky. I loved that when I found myself at the bottom of his sea that my stars above where the only light strong enough to reach me in the darkness. And I can’t fight the words that keep pounding in my head, from the bottom of his ocean, fixed stars govern a life. Our life, together.

I don’t really remember arriving at the entrance of my house, nor do I remember taking all four floors by foot instead of the usual ride with the lift. Once the door of our apartment was securely closed behind me, I let go of everything that was not attached to my body and made my way over to the kitchen. I duly noticeed the stale taste of the already opened bottle of wine I chose as my company for that night, and it slowly started to shut down my buzzing mind. Once it’s entire content was inside of me, and I could feel it taking effect, calming my nerves, I sunk down toward the floor, not caring that no one had bothered to clean it in days.

There was nothing else for me to do than wait for Harry to return. So that is what I did. Slightly drunk, tired from the last few months I sat on the dirty floor of our kitchen. I sat and waited.

Part 9: Kitchen floor, Soho, London, Age: 23

We always ended up on the kitchen floor.

The first time it happened we were fifteen years old, and I knew I was falling in love. Not slowly and not at once either, but falling none the less.

We always ended up on the kitchen floor, but somehow this time Harry was not by my side as he usually was. The floor refused to warm against my exposed thighs resting on the wood, and when a shiver ran down my spine, I suppressed the urge to get up and sit on the rug covered living room floor instead. But I stayed put because we always ended up on the kitchen floor, only this time, I was on my own.

There was a reason why I’d rather stay in the dimly lit kitchen, no sign of the rising sun yet to be seen. The reason was simple, and yet it was strong enough to keep me put. Just twenty feet shy of where I was sitting, the old and beaten Persian rug I loved so much carried the weight of my current dilemma. I couldn’t see the coffee table from where I was sitting nor could I see the camera lying on the stained glass surface. But I knew that it was there, waiting for its owner to return. Just like the worn out Chelsea boots beside the kitchen counter or the many notebooks he had scribbled in that had become neighbours to my own many books lining the entire living room wall. But the real damnation for my mind was that camera. Lying on that stained glass coffee table.

It was the camera I had given him more than four years ago for his birthday. And it was the camera he had used when we were on that beach the week before he had proposed.

To be completely honest. That camera wasn’t the one I had gotten Harry. And it wasn’t the camera he had used when we were on that beach.

But Harry did not know that. And if it were for me to decide he would never know.

I still don’t get how he never noticed nor how he didn’t realise that it broke when he pushed me against the tiny kitchen table it was resting on. It fell when I found a place to sit on that table and tumbled under the giant shelf dominating over the tiny space of our open kitchen.

It had been early in the morning when that little thing had found its doom in our love, and I would have been sorry if it wasn’t for the amazing feeling Harry had caused deep inside my bones.

We had just returned from a party, both drunk with several undistinguishable drinks and our love. I felt giddy, and Harry was clumsy with the toxic liquid in his veins.

We both fought for dominance as his tongue forced me out of his mouth, raging a war within my own.

There was a kind of desperation to it, how his hands easily disposed of my ugly dress leaving burning fingerprints on my naked skin. Eager to do the same, I had started to open the sparsely buttoned shirt that looked just as ridiculous as all the other ones that were living in our closet. His love burned around my rib cage as his hands had moved back up to my neck, deepening our kiss. I just managed to work his trousers off and was going to take care of his pants next, but Harry stopped me by pulling me to his chest, telling me to jump as he guided my legs around his hips.

I kissed him frantically, and he kissed me back, hard.

He licked his lips before pushing his forehead against mine, not breaking eye contact. I knew he would come any moment now and I was so caught up in him; in how the sweat made the swallows under his collar glimmer of the lights in the living room behind me; how his long locks tickled my exposed shoulders with every thrust he made.

When my eyes moved back to stare into his, I fell victim to the violent shudder that shot right through me. We didn’t break contact until Harry groaned and his muscles tightened. He pulled me even closer as his head rested on my shoulder, pressing lazy kisses against my sweaty skin.

Hours later I would find the camera, broken and forgotten beneath the giant shelf and made a vow to myself to replace it as soon as I could.

It was me who gave that camera to Harry as a gift for his birthday so many years ago. It had taken me weeks wrecking my brain as to what to give to him that would make him as happy as I felt. And of course, it was he who ended my misery by whispering his wish into my neck while we sat one Sunday morning on the floor of a kitchen that once belonged to his parents.

It had been more than ten hours since I had last seen Harry and the turbulence in my heart hasn't felt tolerable for a while now. I had spent the night sitting here, on the kitchen floor, wishing Harry would sit beside me. Sit with his side pressing into mine. Harry, sipping directly from one of the expensive bottles of red wine that he loved so much. Me, reaching for the liquid happiness in between his fingers to feed the fire building in my veins until the bottle would no longer do and I had to reach for his lips instead.

I can’t bring myself to regret marrying Harry. I probably never will. Even if it was going to end in us splitting up.

I was not ready when the rustling of the key in the lock signalled that my time was up. Harry was home. And in just a few more seconds I'd know which road I'd be heading down.

For a second I wished the limbo back, even if it would mean that I'd never feel like myself again. But as fast as that thought had come it was gone again because there was a hand putting pressure on the door handle on the other side of our flat. I held my breath. The lock clicked one final time. The door swung open. Harry was home.

#Harry Styles #1dff #1dff summer fic exchange 2017

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ofbeingfound · 7 years ago

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Chapter 0

There are certain people that forever become a part of you because of a single moment, and then there are those with whom you share so many small moments that before you realize it, your two lives have been woven together inextricably. Kiyoko was both of those people, except that the moment that changed me forever came not when we first met, but rather, when we finally had to say goodbye.

My favorite memory of Kiyoko was not that final moment though, but one of those small moments that pass by innocuously until one day it washes over you with a kind of happiness and nostalgia like the feeling of returning home for the holidays and waking up to the smell of Dad’s sausage and eggs on a Saturday morning. It was the first night of the Blizzard of ’15, and the heavy snowfall had rendered the skyline into a murky, monochrome Rembrandt - buildings faded into the dark sky, while trees became looming skeletons and the street lamps wore fuzzy little halos that wavered in the wind, but continued to shine defiantly.

We had been holed up in my favorite cafe in Harvard square, a quaint little space with exposed brick and lofted ceilings that I thought had the best hot chocolate in all of Boston - it was the first time I’d seen anyone serve hot chocolate with a big chunk of milk chocolate in it, which made the hot chocolate creamier and less likely to scald your lips as it melted. I watched Kiyoko carefully as she took her first sip. Her eyes lost focus and I smiled, because Kiyoko always spaced out like this when she started eating or drinking something delicious, and I’d seen her go an entire meal without speaking because she was so focused on enjoying her food.

After nearly a minute of silence, she realized that I was gauging her reaction, staring at her intently over the lip of my coffee mug.

She focused her gaze on me and smiled, “It’s amazing.”

“You look awfully cozy,” I replied, resting my head on my palm. She was still wearing her red down jacket even though it was warm enough for just a light sweater in the cafe, and both her hands were clasped around her mug so that only the corners of her lips were visible.

“I am,” she said, her eyes winking simultaneously. Outside, the wind was beginning to howl, but it was barely audible above Mercer’s crooning vocals in ‘The High Road’. She took another sip, and her pinky twitched ever so slightly, as if considering tapping to the beat of the music, then deciding against it.

Kiyoko wasn’t a very talkative person, and often told me she had trouble putting her thoughts into words. This is probably why all my best memories of her are of these little things, especially her right pinky, which always seemed to be the most expressive part of her. Most of the time, her eyes were impenetrable, but the moments where they suddenly snapped into focus are the basis for my fondest memories of her. On the other hand, those far off gazes afforded me plenty of time to just sit there looking at her.

She was the type of beautiful where staring at her face was an activity that was fulfilling in and of itself, even if she didn’t immediately strike you as the type of girl you would see on a billboard. She had a pixie face with petite features, rosy lips, and the type of eyes that were perfect for winking, which made her inability to wink a real shame. Her hair was jet black and straight at the top, with a bit of natural waviness as it fell to her shoulders, and her skin had an almost olive tint to it that she blamed on her mixed blood - I can’t remember her exact origins, except that her father was all over the place and her mother was Japanese and stubborn, just like her, which is why her parents ended up giving her a Japanese first name.

“I think the last bus is soon,” she said, putting down her empty mug. I hadn’t noticed the time pass, and we were now the last ones in the cafe, while the bartenders had already put away most of the pastries on display. Broken Bells had long since given way to a string of indie artists that led to the current song, ‘Diane Young’ by Vampire Weekend.

“Let’s stay until this song ends, I want to look at you a little longer,” I said with a cheeky smile.

“No,” she laughed, “I don’t want to get stranded in Harvard Square.”

“Even if it’s with me?” I asked, pushing her a little more as I always did.

“Stop,” she said, pressing her lips together so that she wouldn’t laugh. I drew her gaze into mine, but even though we locked eyes, her eyes were still glazed like black ceramic.

“Fine, let’s go,” I said. As I stood up, the bench I was sitting on creaked against the concrete floor, and I could feel her gaze on me for a moment before she stood up and took our cups to the counter.

“Thank you, get home safe!” said the bartender as I reached for the door.

“You too,” said Kiyoko, shouting over her shoulder, then she flipped her hood over her head. As soon as I pushed the door open, all I could hear was the wind and the settling of snow - surely, this is where the term white noise came from.

The wind wasn’t particularly strong at that point, there was just a lot of snow and visibility was already poor. There were still some people walking around Harvard square like us, since the state advisory had been to board up after 6pm, which was not quite an hour ago. Kiyoko had looped her arm around mine, not because she was preparing for a leisurely evening stroll, but mostly to guide me to the bus stop and make sure I didn’t get distracted by window displays along the way. Her stride had a stiffness that appeared whenever she had a destination in mind, even if she wasn’t in a rush.

As we passed by the Urban Outfitters on Brattle St, I slowed down a bit and turned to look inside, where the staff were trying to usher the last few customers out by turning off the lights upstairs. Kiyoko’s elbow slipped out of mine and she had to grab onto my arm to pull me away.

“Come on," said Kiyoko. I gave her a mischievous grin as I purposely dragged my feet and she flashed me her one-eyebrow-raised, don’t-mess-with-me glare with her head tilted ever so slightly, though she had to purse her lips together tightly to keep from smiling.

–

Believe it or not, we did catch the bus, but it wasn’t the last one according to the bus driver, who seemed surprisingly relaxed for a man driving a bus in a blizzard. On our way down Mass. Ave, we were joined by two male students in pea coats who looked to be about our age, an older couple in ski jackets, and an older lady with an umbrella. At central, a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties got on, checked her watch, then immediately stepped back off.

“Do you think she’s going to try to hail a cab?” I asked. I was sitting next to Kiyoko, who had taken the window seat, her head resting against window with her hand in between.

“Huh?” she said, looking at me as if I’d woken her up from a nap, though her eyes hadn’t closed the whole time.

“Never mind,” I replied, my head still turned to the closing door, after which the bus began to move.

“What were you thinking about?” I asked, turning to look at her.

“Nothing, I was just looking at the snow and spacing out,” she said softly.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You looked like you were lost in thought,” I said, taking off my gloves.

“You always say that,” she said with a shy smile, “You know me, I just space out easily.”

“Sure, ok,” I said, knowing that my skepticism would provoke a response. She elbowed me and gave me side-eye.

We got off at Beacon St, which was deserted. By now, it was snowing pretty heavily, and you could only see 10-15 feet ahead. The lights at the liquor store on the corner of Mass Ave and Beacon were still on, and I pictured the owner calling his wife and telling her he had missed the last bus so that he could stay with his mates and watch the football game.

“What are you thinking about?” Kiyoko asked, after a minute of silence. I told her about the developing plot of the liquor store owner who would risk his life for a night with his mates. She laughed and asked me if my Dad was like that.

“No, my Dad wouldn’t do that, plus my Dad doesn’t even drink alcohol,” I replied.

“Oh yeah, I forgot your family was really Christian,” she said, her voice tinted, but with what, I couldn’t tell.

I nodded and we walked in silence a little while longer until we reached the intersection where Beacon forked into Bay State. Neither of us had gloves, and it was right then, as we stopped at the light, that I noticed how cold it was. Currently, our elbows were intertwined, my hand on my stomach and hers in her jacket pocket. I began to move my hand to put it in my pocket, but in the middle of the movement, without so much as a glance at me, Kiyoko reached out and grabbed my hand, locking her fingers in between mine.

“Walk me back?” she asked, hesitating a bit.

“Of course,” I said, trying to catch her gaze, but her bangs got in the way. Nevertheless, I could see the very edges of her lips curl upwards in a smile.

After we crossed the light, the snow lessened considerably as we entered cover of the trees on Bay State, and the temperature dropped noticeably as we got less snow and more wind. At some point, I felt her right pinky curl up into my hand, like a baby sparrow burrowing into her nest at the first signs of winter.

“What are you doing?” I asked, looking down to our hands.

“My pinky is cold,” she said, matter-of-factly. I decided not to reply, and we walked in silence like that until we reached her dormitory.

By now, the benches at the front were completely covered, and the little glass foyer that jutted out of the building had been covered with snow so that it appeared connected to the rest of the facade. Snow accumulated on the dull metal crossbeams between the glass, which was fogged from within. Standing at the entrance to her dormitory, I imagined for a moment that the world was a snow globe, and we were the two little figurines - the only people - in the middle of it, a fake evergreen on the left and a little cottage on the right.

“I’m cold,” she said, as she turned to face me.

“Poor you,” I said, stepping forward and embracing her. We stayed like that until two girls materialized out of the white oblivion behind us, talking about how great it was to have school canceled. As they opened the front doors, light poured out and it was as if someone had cracked open our snow globe, the little white flakes bursting out in a flurry.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” she asked, pushing me away and giving me the closest thing to puppy eyes that she could muster.

“Yeah, even if I have to dig a path through the snow,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and shrugging her shoulders.

I shivered, as if an electric current had passed through me, and suddenly felt a warmth from within. There was something amazing about the way she expressed herself, the way she seemed to carefully choose each emotion so that when you felt it, it was the purest form of that one emotion, and only that single emotion. Most of the time, I had no idea what she was thinking or feeling, except when she wanted me to know, and then I knew.

She looked back once only as I watched her poofy red figure disappear behind the foggy glass doors. When the doors shut, the world no longer felt like a snow globe - the fake evergreen turned back into a row of pine trees, and the little cottage turned out to be a tower filled with students talking in hushed voices. One thing remained though, the little red figurine, who wanted to see me tomorrow, even if I had to fight my way through a blizzard.

--OfBeingFound

#prose #My Writing #Novel #spilled ink

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dreadhaus-literature · 6 years ago

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{Valentine’s Collection} #13

“Monica–shit, my hands are shaking. Hold on, I’m really nervous.”

Monica bit back a smile, bringing her painted nails up to her mouth, her eyes on her phone in her lap. The Proposal video had been saved on her phone for over a decade, and it was one of her most cherished memories; the fact that she could go back and rewatch Stiles Stilinski propose to her over and over was something she indulged in more than she would admit to anyone. They’d been married for nearly as long as she’s had the video but like a guilty pleasure she watches it often, right alongside their recorded wedding vows and the testimonials from their ceremony--but if she were to be honest, the proposal video was her favorite. Stiles was so visibly nervous, his pale cheeks flushed, his fingers twisting his headphone cord because he forgot to take his headphones off before he began.

The mastermind behind the camera was Stiles’s best friend and the best man from their wedding, Scott McCall, who hadn’t told Stiles he was going to film it. It was obvious twelve seconds into the video, when Stiles looked up, saw Scott recording, and nearly tackled him--the only reason he didn’t, was Monica was there, and she always had Stiles’s full attention. He’d been in love with her their entire four years of high school, they’d been dating for three of those four years, and the day of graduation seemed the best time to propose to his high school sweetheart. Scott thought it was the cheesiest thing he’d ever heard, but that hadn’t stopped him from fully supporting his loyal best friend, going so far as to secure balloons and a string quartet for the event--yes, that was his way of being supportive. It was way over the top, a little too romantic comedy for the high schoolers, but Stiles had been surprisingly fine with it--because it showed he was serious, and he was extremely serious about his relationship with Monica. It showed clearly in the video, through Stiles’s stammers, the way his brown eyes darted around because he was too scared to look Monica in the eye, and when it came time for him to pull the ring out of his hoodie pocket he actually nearly dropped it. Monica laughed, both in the video and on the couch, as Stiles yelped and dropped to both knees just to catch it.

“What’s so funn--Oh my god, baby, you’re not watching it again. Please tell me you’re not watching it again.”

Monica looked over her shoulder, giving her husband a grin. “Welcome home, baby.” She held up her phone, giving it a cheeky wiggle. “Guess what I’m watching?”

“Me make a fool of myself?” Stiles slipped his suit jacket off, unholstering his side-arm next. He unclipped his FBI-issued badge, the M. Stilinski clear to read as he dropped it on the kitchen table.

“More like you making me your wife, but if that makes you a fool, then I guess, Stiles.” Monica teased, turning back to the video with a playful, delicate sniff.

“Oh, no no no, I don’t think so,” Stiles crossed the distance to the living room couch with purpose, wrapping his arms around his beautiful wife’s petite shoulders, peppering kisses all over her face. “You don’t get to do that, you know I’m a fool for you. I have been since the first day of high school.”

“God you were such a dork!” Monica laughed, curling up into herself as Stiles continued to trail kisses down to her throat. “You misspelled your own name when the teacher asked you to correct his misspelling of it.”

“My first name is impossible!” Stiles reared back even as he dropped to his haunches so he was eye-level with Monica. “Can you spell your husband’s first name?”

“Not without fifteen minutes prep time.”

“See, so I should be excused for fucking it up, I had a beautiful girl sitting next to me and I was heavily distracted.” Stiles reached up, twirling a strand of Monica’s short, soft hair around one of his fingers. “I’m still heavily distracted by her.”

“You better not be too distracted, Mr. FBI Agent.” Monica gave him a pointed look, shifting in her seat to face him. Stiles propped his other arm on the back of the sofa, resting his chin against it.

“In-Training. I’m still just an Intern, really. I can be as distracted as I want.”

“You really can’t.”

“Oh, totes, babe. All I do is sit at my desk all day and stare at your picture. Oh, and make coffee runs.”

Monica raised both brows, gesturing to the kitchen table. “They give you a gun for coffee runs?”

“Baby haven’t you heard? Quantico’s coffee shops are notoriously dangerous. I have to wear kevlar if I go in there before 9AM.” Stiles was openly teasing, but he had one hell of a poker face--it all just made Monica laugh, something that warmed Stiles to his core after a long day at the office.

It was true, he was an FBI Agent-In-Training. It seemed an appropriate next step after high school, what with his father in law enforcement. Monica hadn’t been exactly thrilled with the idea of her husband in such a dangerous field, but she was always supportive of him and that he was eternally grateful for--though it could be said he was eternally grateful for her in every capacity. Monica had been his support, his one guiding light through the crazy, tumultuous time that was high school and he will always maintain she was the only reason he survived it. Now that they were all grown up, living on their own in Quantico so he could pursue his dream of becoming an FBI Agent, Stiles could safely say he was only doing so well in life because of her. Sitting there with her now, he moved his fingers from her hair to her cheek, caressing lightly, lovingly. He could hear the proposal video playing, forgotten, on her lap, and while he should have been embarrassed...how could he be? That proposal, outlandish and over the top, landed him the best girl in the world. He could still think back to that day and feel the nerves, the way his hands shook was something he’d remember for the rest of his life because even though they were dating, he could think of a million reasons for her to say no to him. It had taken him the entire four years of high school (he’d never told her he started planning their life together the moment he met her, how embarrassing would that be?) to save up for the ring he’d gotten her, but he was proud of it even now as it sat upon her finger, complimented by a wedding band and matching the ring he wore just as proudly.

“I was so scared,” Stiles murmured, laughing a little as he nodded toward the video. “I was so sure you were gonna say no.”

“The string quartet was a little over the top, it did have me questioning what sort of man makes that decision,” Monica teased, pretending to look thoughtful. “But Scott owned up to that being his idea, so I forgave it.”

Stiles pretended to wipe sweat from his brow with an over-exaggerated, “Phew!”

Monica laughed again, tilting her head to rest her cheek against Stiles’s hand. “You really thought I’d say no?”

“Uh, you were the hottest girl in school? I was amazed every day you continued to date me.” Stiles’s expression was open and easy to read; he was telling the truth, even if Monica was already shaking her head.

“I was not the hottest girl in school.”

“Oh my god, you aren’t going to give me some shit like you forgot because we’ve been out of school for so long.” Stiles started to stand up. “Do I need to go unbury your yearbook? With all the quotes and numbers from the hopeful idiot boys who wanted you to call them as soon as you dumped me? Or should I go get mine, which is full of ‘She’s too good for you, bro,’ quotes, like I’m blind and didn’t know it.”

Monica latched onto Stiles’s wrist. “Nooo! No, you don’t need to do that.”

He couldn’t help but laugh; she weighed so little he could drag her and the couch without thinking twice about it. Did she really think she was going to hold him back? Adorable.

“You sure?” Stiles pointed toward the hall closet. “I bet they’re just in here, I could read you several different selections, including how we were Prom King and Queen two years in a row and it was entirely because of you.”

Monica gave an insistent tug on Stiles’s wrist, fighting off a blush at being reminded but she couldn’t deny she loved the pride Stiles had always had in her. He cherished her, adored her, doted on her, and treated her like a Queen. She didn’t care what anyone else thought of her; Stiles thought the world of her and that was enough for her. It always had been.

“Come snuggle with me,” Monica put a deliberate whine in her tone--it worked on Stiles every. single. time. “I’ve missed you all day.”

There was that handsome, boyish grin, and he shifted a little closer. “Oh yeah?”

Monica nodded, reaching down with her hand to lock her phone, muting the video playing--on it, she’d said yes and she and Stiles were sharing their first kiss as fiances. In real time, Stiles was already leaning down for her mouth, covering it with his own. The couch was only a slight barrier between them, one that Stiles remedied easily without having to break the kiss--because he scooped Monica up in his arms, cradling her against his chest and swallowing her surprised squeal with a deep chuckle.

“I’ve missed you too, baby. In fact, I think it’s important I show you how much.”

Monica ran her fingertip down the curve of Stiles’s nose, very aware he was carrying her toward their bedroom. “I think your wife would like that very much.”

“Mmm, say that again,” Stiles’s smile was dreamy. “I love it when you say you’re my wife.”

Monica leaned up, whispering against Stiles’s ear, fully committed to their fun little game. “Your wife has missed you all day, Agent Stilinski.”

Stiles openly shuddered, her voice one of his many turn-ons when it came to her. He ducked into their bedroom with ease, moving to lay Monica on her back atop the plush comforter, leaning down for another kiss.

“Then let me make it up to my wife,” he broke the kiss to trail his lips down her throat, “and remind her why she said yes to me all those years ago.”

Monica would have argued she never forgot why, but she wasn’t able to form a coherent thought once that wicked mouth settled lower and reminded her what it was capable of.

#{theme} : for monica #{collection} : 14 days of valentine's #{character} : stiles stilinski #{ i rly hate ur name kid }

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twinflameshardcore · 8 years ago

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Post eclipse sensations - happiness and fullness

I loved this solar eclipse in my zodiac Pisces - the energy in the aether was amazing before and after 02/26. It has felt so balanced, good, blissful, light in the body, love in the air. Gaia has been rising its vibration and the Universe has been pushing its own from above so the entire amalgam feels incredibly delightful.

The same day I also participated in a group (remote) meditation for the first time in my life to release Africa from harmful masculine energy and victimized energy of females. I set a little bonfire, imagined that the (violet) flames of passion and love burn over the continent and that they make men and women come together again - that men understand and respect women’s love & surrendering as women give love naturally so men could learn how to open themselves and love the same way too. Love is everything humans need. Men cannot do without women, and vice versa (unless they’re both gay). Both parties will come asking for love in the end. I’m a fiery being, a fiery dragon and angel so I heal with, and through fire/passion. It’s a self-balanced passion without jealousy which can heal every relationship and this is what I commanded the fire to bring to Africa. Other people were meditating using the violet flame and pink light of the goddess but I’m not good in an idle meditation as most of Draconians & Reptilians (too reactive to the environmental distractions), so I just used something physical to focus on, outdoor ;) It looks like the meditation was a big success when a few thousands of people meditated at the same time and the vibration increased on Earth, thanks to humans this time; results are yet to come.

I’ve also felt very spiritually ‘full’ in the body, as if my spirit added more of itself to the human body and I’m more present here on Earth than in other dimensions. Or my bottom chakras healed/balanced or upper chakras made some important connections with lower ones, whatever the case, it feels very very pleasant, as if I matured! I’d explain it that my angelic/higher self’s essence (which has been existing somewhere up there, guiding and preventing from taking stupid actions) has ‘settled down’ in my human body-host better so now ‘the advanced I’ can live as an angel in the detoxified human body on Earth. This means we’re not going to the stars but we’re actually returning from the stars down to Earth, to healed Gaia, and our bodies are opening to permanently host our angelic selves, while the old human-related essence has been leaving us for good.

I’ve been experiencing 4D timelines, atmosphere and energy merging with 3D & 5D all together which results in dreaming awake. I’m visited in dreams by my deceased now soul mate who was never a spiritual person but seems to know what’s going on now with the Ascension. I was completely in love with him in a college, but he never chose me for his gf, we were too immature and shy to complete this ‘relationship’ so it stayed unfinished. Then he died in a car crash when he was 21 and he’s been visiting me in dreams on a few occasions since then. But only lately these dreams have become very conscious, his actions are as if deliberate, we express feelings for each other to feel liberated from that stuck love. I feel him excited and happy that he can feel me so directly and strongly once we’re going through the 4D zone. In dreams, he calls me by my back then nickname, asks me how I am. I can feel his energy assisting me during some days too, when I’m awake, to the point that I cut my finger twice when I felt him as if sitting inside of me, just like I feel my TF! It never happened before. I also realize that he can literately see me from where he is and it’s only that thin veil between dimensions which disallows us to see each other. But it’s OK, he’s not for me anyway ;) I often wonder how he would react if he was alive and saw me during a class-mates meeting after all those years, since I’ve changed for better, also visually. Back then I was almost invisible, I disliked myself for how 'unformed’ and ‘different’ I was, while other class mates were fully present, enjoying themselves. Overall, it’s like the entire atmosphere as experienced in my most common dreams is accessible now when I’m awake and some old dreams which I had 10 or 20 years ago then forgot, they pop up out of the blue.

I also come across synchronicities such as giants, cyclops, Minotaur, Merlin, djinns, and numbers such as, again, 11:11, 54, 55, 17, 22, 000 and 999.

My twin’s absent again, but I don’t blame him as he must figure out what he wants to do with his life next, he needs to say yest to a big desired change so he could feel personally happy, professionally wanted and overall to build himself a new future based on realistic ideas only. A new spark in everything. I’ve discovered my past and worked on my issues, but he was too busy with his job (or lack of) and survival to let the Universe touch his heart. Now he has time, he’s in a safer place, and I believe the Universe will be triggering him so he could discover and learn about himself better.

The Sun has been producing what seems an incredibly colorful light, full of blue, yellow/gold and red strips lately. I captured it several times in pictures taken near the eclipse days - it holds a very happy energy; if you open and grab it with your heart, you will feel it.

Yesterday, 03/01 I felt totally happy, 100% internally pleased for no apparent reason, as usually. My chakras felt aligned, healed and happy, filling up the body with a sensation of stability, grounding, yet passion and independence. All that emotional neediness towards my twin seems to fade away and I finally act ‘on my behalf’, planning, trying various things, opportunities, still digging into my soul & heart about my life purpose here etc. Obviously, the main purpose means living & doing things with the twin sometime next, but until we get there, there must be a new side-quest to do which I’ll enjoy doing alone :) In fact these new sensations felt in the body may be linked to the twin since we keep merging, so while I embody his attributes (said independence of doing things on one’s own without sharing, or looking for any acceptance, plus creative ideas) then he embodies what’s been mine so far :) It all calls me to BE, RADIATE AND FEEL with my heart that what is pouring from outside. The brain has no job right now, it must surrender to the heart so it can feel, feel, feel and feed the entire body with that amazing energy!

I noticed it a long time ago that there’s an axis of love-work between us - when he works a lot, my love gets stronger and I need him more. On the other hand, when I have more things to do, I feel his energy stronger, a sensation that my passion and activity fills him with pleasure and excitement thus he’s energetically attracted to me more. So after the solar eclipse on 02/26, for the first time in many years I felt ‘full’ and happy, as if some cycle of my life has been completed and there will be no return to it. Of course I never know what the hell it’s exactly about but I believe my soul handles all that stuff so I just let it happen. I believe I’ll learn more around the mid-March or in late April. I was hanging in the garden last night looking at Orion, Sirius, Big Dipper, Pleiadies, Arcturus and Aldebaran. Orion, a place of many galactic battles feels healed now and radiates a happy energy too. I sent my love to Alnilam star (the middle one in the Orion’s belt). Looking at the constellation’s shape almost brought a new re-memory of something, like a sign, a rune I could know a meaning of but again, my human memory couldn’t help me with it, yet. Blockage!

I’ve felt a big acceleration today 03/02 but it may be also due to a huge geomagnetic storm (the solar wind is blowing like 750km/sec now!) The energy is that of rushing, impatience, acting without hesitation: “I want it, and I want it NOW”, “Let’s DO it (and if you’re not ready, stay where you are and I’ll do it myself”, and similar themes. This is a perfect astro-weather for the ego to rage but if you’ve done your ego training like I did in previous years, you will be just productive, creative, uplifted, inspired, and active without having the ego triggered by any negative energies.

Venus is retrograding in Aries (March 4 until April 15, ends in Pisces again) which is also partly my zodiac (I’m on the cusp) and I always feel anything Aries much stronger than Pisces. Current energy as it feels is that of having an urge for excitement, for the newer and simplified, for taking charge of own (or somebody else’s, like an elder family member’s) things, for leading the way, carving a new path boldly and courageously without looking at too many details or blockages. It’s the physical energy calling out to ‘jump over’ the collective, leave them to their own devices and to focus on doing things which only interest own self, the spirit, the heart! If you’re driven by this sharp and get-things-done energy and have things to do, you’ll do them immediately instead of prolonging decisions for weeks. There’s no place for boredom now. I even thought it was a sexual energy because the Earth is also waking up (spring time) strongly in the northern hemisphere where I live, but it’s not sexual. It’s calling out for taking action physically but I verified its purpose by imagining a situation that my twin was with me in the physical and we were to make love driven by this high vibration. Then honestly it felt as if we would probably stop moving after 5 minutes realizing that we wanted to do something else, not with our bodies but with that energy :) Thus, it’s not sexual. It has qualities of turning on the solar plexus and sacral chakras but only for self-love and unconditional love for the other half, to make us feel good inside our bodies, happy in our environment, prompting us to make desired changes in own lives when we finally don’t worry, doubt or fear at the time being. It’s the energy of creation, of making things, materializing, ending stagnant issues which the heart no more resonates with, and jumping over problems leaving them behind as non-existing since they were illusions. This vital energy can be mistaken though, so you may be mislead to quit with the TF and enter another relationship, or to cheat, because people seem to be very attractive now when they felt lighter, happier, more liberated, wanting a big change. Gaia is almost liberated from the old, tired, repetitive energy, the love energy of goddess is also here, and every plant, animal and human can feel it, so we transmute and radiate around. I can already imagine how it’s going to feel when plants will start making leaves and they will be releasing love energy (that delivered by Gaia to their roots and other parts) outside around April and May! We’ll feel as if we’re doped! :) So if you’ve with the twin flame, then you know whom you belong to and keep it like that. This is time when the end meets the beginning, an old victim suffered/experienced enough and is forgiven then resurrected, Phoenix rises from ashes, the last and ignored becomes the first and most wanted, just like when an ouroborous eats/learns about itself completely - it is ready to be shifted on another level of self-mastery to start growing until it can eat his tail again. Unless there’s no more growing or repeating cycles and the humanity is entering one permanent cycle :)

Until next time.

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#the new cycle #venus retrograde aries #4th dimension #energy update #march energy

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