#read a book and now i want to sit and gab someones ear off about it

[dykedatingsim]

the feminine urge to be a talkative & rebellious princess followed around 24/7 by a stoic quiet knight. the androgynous urge to do and say increasingly bizarre and annoying shit until i finally get her to snap and pin me to a wall and make out with me just so i’ll finally shut the fuck up

[cursestothemoon]

Out of Time

Cedric Diggory x Fem! Ravenclaw! Reader

Requested: yes

warnings: mentions of death, nausea, and one curse word (ass)

Word Count: 2508

Summary: Cedric’s crush is chosen to be Hogwarts champion and he can’t help but put off telling her about his feelings. But when he finally does, is it too late? ✧✧✧

Cedric moved quickly, he was on the edge of the right side of the castle and sure to be late to arithmancy that was so unfortunately held in the complete opposite side he was on.

He knew it was stupid, ridiculous really. The way he’d started to learn your schedule in order to casually bump into on your way to class. He’d never tell his friends about it either, rather answering that it just happened by chance, everyday, almost every class.  

The worst were the days when you didn’t even notice him. Usually when you saw him you’d offer a quick wave, gentle smile, anything that let him know you were aware of his presence. But some days you were in too much of a hurry, nose shoved in a textbook trying to cram the last bits of information into your pretty head before the test.

“Lovely of you to join us, Mr. Diggory.”

It was with seconds to spare that Cedric made it to class, and he kept his head low with a sheepish smile at the professor's jab. He got to his desk without any further issues and continued to daydream about his favorite girl.

He didn’t understand why he couldn’t just tell you of his feelings. You were friends, barely, but Cedric thought it enough to permit a date. And you never shied away from him, never rejected the hugs or cheek kisses. But something was stopping him, and each time he thought he'd mustered up the courage to ask you out on a proper date something in his mind would tell him that it just wasn’t the right time.

Cedric huffed as he pulled out his quill, having put off the inevitable long enough, and got to work on the first few arithmancy problems put on the blackboard.

--

“Oi! Ced, you gonna put your name in the cup?” Ernie Macmillan called from a few feet away.

Cedric and his friends had a free period, all of them deciding to go take a look at the elusive Goblet of Fire.

“Not unless you do it first.” Cedric laughed.

There was no way he’d compete in some tournament, he had enough responsibilities as it was.

Ernie gave a sarcastic laugh as he caught up with Cedric’s group, “Oh I’d love to, really, the possibility of getting killed always seemed rather exciting, but I’m under age. Right shame, that is.”

“Oh sure it.” One of Cedric’s friends commented before pulling Ernie into a headlock, a friendly gesture for sure, but Ernie did not appreciate the manhandling seeing as it messed up his robes and hair.

“Ced, I’d walk tall if I were you.” The same friend that had Ernie in a headlock whispered to Cedric.

Cedric didn’t need to ask what he meant, not when he walked into the room where the goblet was and there you were sitting with a few of your housemates, all adorned in the blue and silver scarves evidently to keep warm from the fresh rain that fell.

You were whispering about something with your friends, a square of paper held carefully between your finger tips. He connected the dots and assumed you were deciding on whether or not to put your name in the Goblet, and that was enough motivation for him.

“Ernie give me a piece of paper.”

“What? You're serious?” Ernie asked incredulously.

Cedric nodded, as he turned around hastily, “Yeah, come on mate, give me a piece of paper.”

You were making your way to the goblet already.

Cedric was quick to write his name and school before jogging toward you, only hoping the cup could read his rushed handwriting.

“Y/n, are you putting your name in?” He attempted to make small talk, watching as you paused just before the age line.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. You too?” You asked, the task at hand and now the boy making you rather nervous.

Cedric looked down at his paper with a nonchalant shrug, “Oh yeah, thought I might try my luck.”

“Come on, Ced!”

“Yeah, put it in Ced!”

He cringed at the calls from his friends, but relaxed as he watched you giggle at their antics.

“Together?” You asked, a small smile playing on your lips as you nudge your head in the direction of the goblet.

Cedric nodded and you both walked past the age line and to the cup, hands reaching up simultaneously. He gave a countdown before you both dropped your names in, and lucky you did it when you did because the Weasley twins were running in and starting a raucous around the area.

“I’ll see you later, Ced.” You waved at him as you walked back to your friends.

--

The time had come and Cedric sat at the Hufflepuff table with his knee bouncing. Truthfully he regretted putting his name, what if he is called? He can’t handle school, quidditch, clubs, and a tournament. So he begged Merlin his name would not be coming out of that list.

With two down and one to go, he got even more nervous. This was it, and he did not have a good feeling about this.

“And the Hogwarts Triwizard Champion is… Y/n L/n.”

He let out a breath upon first realization that it wasn't him. Then he paused for a moment as he thought about the name that had been called, your name had been called. He whipped his head around to find you in the crowd of cheering Ravenclaws, somehow spotting your wide smile just as you were being pushed to join Dumbledore. He caught your eye and offered a thumbs up as you just shrugged, face glowing with excitement and pride.

With the first task Cedric watched from the edge of his seat. You were battling a dragon and he wished it were him instead of you. And as you managed to get the egg, leaving the battle with a few burns and bruises but alive, he planned to ask you out. He’d finally be able to ask you out on the date he’s been planning in his mind for so long.

But then he saw you celebrating with your friends, and as you turned to look at him with soot on your face and a beaming smile he thought,

Maybe I should wait, let her celebrate then I’ll ask.

Then the Yule Ball was coming up and he decided he’d just have to ask you, only every time he tried his mind stopped his mouth from forming the words, and each time he had to live through the flash of disappointment that would cross your face when you realized he wasn’t going to ask you.

And when he did ask you to the Yule Ball, it was completely not how he thought it would go, the day still haunts him.

Cedric was on his way to your first class, he was planning to ask you to the Yule Ball. Today was the day, he decided, today was the day he was going to suck it up and start a relationship with you.

You were waiting just outside of the classroom, he had five minutes.

“Y/n, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Nodding, you broke away from your friends to a secluded area a few feet away.

“What’s up, Ced?” You looked up at him and he could’ve sworn he’d melt.

“Would you- Do you want to go to the Yule Ball… with me?” He asked, the heat on his cheeks making him more nervous.

“Oh, Cedric.” That was not the tone he was expecting.

You hated to tell him, really you did, and you wished he would’ve asked sooner but he didn’t and there was nothing you could do without being a complete ass.

“Someone’s already asked me. I’m going with George Weasley.”

It was one of his more embarrassing moments that he wished not to talk about. He left you to go to class with assurance that all was well and the next week he asked Cho to accompany him.

The dance was fun though it would’ve been better if he didn’t have to watch you and George dance together, leaning impossibly close to each other as you tried to speak over the music, and the slow dances were by far the most painstaking, but Cedric got through it.

The second task came around and again Cedric found himself, knee bouncing, lip biting, on the edge of his seat as he waited for you to come up from the water. His cheers were deafening the moment he saw you break through the surface of the water, best friend in tow. You had come in first place and Cedric was more than happy upon noticing that George was not the one you were saving from the lake, meaning you were still free and single. He decided the perfect time to tell you would be after the entire tournament, stress of the tasks gone, he’d be able to finally ask you out.

When the third task started rounding the corner, Cedric realized his crush had turned to something more. The way your hair fell, your laugh sounded, and voice floated through the air like the sweetest song. He was completely in love with you, your kindest and your wisdom, and your terrible habit of procrastinating that caused you to walk around with your know shoved in a book on certain days, a telltale sign that you had a test in the coming class. And maybe if he had told you about his feelings sooner, he would’ve known that your feelings mirrored his exactly.

“Ced, mate, she’ll be fine. Stop bouncing your leg, you're shaking the whole bloody row.” His friend tried to assure him, the annoyance of Cedric’s movement evident in his tone.

Cedric didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t her safety that had him anxious, he knew you were beyond capable of not only getting through the maze but getting through first. What made him anxious was that this was the last task and he no longer had the safety net of telling himself he’d wait until after the tournament to tell you about his feelings. He was less than excited about a possible rejection.

The task went on, hours turned to minutes, and now his anxiety was starting to tilt more toward your safety as the time ticked. It didn’t help when Fleur and Viktor forfeited, each looking worse than the other. But he was able to calm himself enough to listen to his friends gab on as he waited for you and Harry to make your way back.

The scream was what caught his attention, he had been turned listening Ernie talk about anything and everything to pass the time. The scream sounded painful, an ear splitting, blood curdling scream that made him wince. His eyes followed Fleur's eyeline, and his heart dropped as he caught sight of you on the floor with Harry shaking over you.

Cedric was out of his seat instantly, making his way down to where you were. He wasn’t shy with pushing people out of his way, making sure he got to you, making sure you were alright.

“She told me to bring her body back. She told me to bring her body back and then she just stopped moving.” Harry cried.

Cedric felt himself freeze at the words. Your body. He had never heard of anyone referring to someone as a body, at least not someone living. The words flashed through his mind as he threw himself to the ground next to you. Your body, not you, not Y/n, just your body, as if you weren't there.

“Get Madam Pomfrey, she’s not dead. Not yet.” Dumbledore said to Snape, his voice carrying a deadly seriousness as he went from telling people what to do for you and listening to Harry as he yelled about someone being back.

Everything happened very quickly, within the next hour you had been taken to the medical wing and had been treated for your injuries. Hexes and dark magic Cedric had never even heard of, you were now being treated for and he couldn’t help but curse himself as he was losing hope in you recovering.

Now at hour five, you had been in this room longer than you had been in that maze. Cedric refused to leave, no matter the pushes and pleas from Madam Pomfrey and even his head of house, Professor Sprout.

He wouldn’t leave, not now, not ever. He had wasted too much time waiting and now he was paying for it as you made him wait, wait for an answer as to whether or not you’d pull through.

The chair he was sitting in was unforgiving on his back, but the dull ache was of no importance to him at the moment. With his hand holding your smaller, colder, and paler one, he couldn’t bring himself to care about his dull pains.

“I’m too late.” He admitted to himself, suddenly feeling the tears sting his eyes.

“I always thought I had time, time to tell you that I love- I love you, Y/n.”

You were silent, hand still limp and it made his heart hurt.

“My beautiful Y/n,” He brought his hand to gently caress your face, “I fell in love with your smile, it was always the best part of my day, and the look you give me in class whenever something funny would happen. I fell in love with the way your hair would glow in the sun, giving you a halo that seemed so natural around your head. And I fell in love with the way you procrastinate, yet somehow manage to get incredibly high marks on your tests, and the way you’d light up any room you walked into. I fell in love with you, Y/n.” He gave a sad laugh at his rambling that turned to a choked breath.

Cedric feared the worst, that he had truly wasted his time waiting.

“Mhm”

He froze. The sound was small, almost missed but it most definitely was not from him.

“Y/n?”

You let out another sound, and your eyebrows furrowed this time.

“It’s alright, I’m here.” Cedric cooed as he moved closer to your head.

“Ced…”

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s Cedric. You’re ok, love, just relax.”

You shook your head as you tried to sit up, eyes opening just barely, but the movement made you incredibly nauseous so you decided against it. You had heard him, you heard everything but it was difficult for you to tell him you felt the same way at the moment.

“Mmm,  love you.” It was all you could manage before you had to close your eyes again and take a moment to recuperate.

“Yeah, love you, can I get you any- what?” Cedric paused.

“Love you too, Ced.” You smiled, eyes still closed.

Cedric felt his heart soar, you were alive, you were alright, and you were in love with him.

[fangirlinsweden]

Nexus - Part 6

Part 6:  Google and weak apologies

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Secrets, talk about death and loss (think that is all)

Word Count: About 2000 words

Summary:  Y/N is a pain in the ass according to Steve. She is brought on to missions sometimes by Fury when they need help, but she is wild and does not listen to orders. She does what she wants. Now Fury has given her a place in the Avengers. And Steve is not liking it. Having to deal with her every day. He hates her. Or does he? And what is Y/N relationship with Bucky? They seem to get closer and closer.

A/N: This takes place after Avengers: Endgame, but Steve never left. Tony and Nat are still alive.

This is written for Gab’s @buckysmischief Birthday Challenge. My prompt is: “Did you bring us here to die?” “Obviously.” “I really can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

English is not my native language and I am doing the best I can when it comes to writing.

Steve spent the next few days pouring over google. The sunflowers had not worked, but could it be because it was the wrong kind of flowers. He quickly found out that flowers had different symbolic meanings. If the sunflower were short they meant adoration, but tall meant haughtiness. Steve tried to remember if he had given Y/N short or tall flowers, but either way neither of the two options were the right meaning. He continued to read about the different meanings, then he found the perfect combination of flowers. Steve wrote them all down and went to the nearest flower shop, although it took him ten different flower shops to get the flowers together and a lot of money, since some were out of season. He had chosen bluebells because they symbolised humility, White Chrysanthemum because the symbolised truth, Hyacinths because they were said to mean peace and truth, White Orchids because they should mean sincerity and long lasting and lastly tulips because they meant new beginnings, peace and forgiveness. The flowers together looked a bit miss matched, but Steve hoped they would show Y/N that he was serious. He knocked on her door when he got back to the compound, but there was no answer, then he heard it. Laughter, or more exactly her laughter. He followed the sound and found her sitting in the kitchen with Sam, Bucky and Clint talking and laughing. The smile on Y/N face almost made him lose his breath and Steve wondered if this was the wrong time to do this, but decided that it had to be now. He wanted his best friend back and to do that he needed to get Y/N to forgive him. 

You were enjoying your free time with Sam, Bucky and Clint. You had shared a few of your best and worst memories working with different vigilantes around the city. Like the time that Deadpool lost a hand in a fight and that you had thought that was it. You told them about seeing him regrow the hand had been one of the most disturbing but fascinating things ever, but you skipped to tell them about his suggestion of how he could use the growing hand to give you pleasure. Bucky would probably not like that. Sam talked about meeting Scott the first time and it made you laugh. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Steve enter the room, but you ignored it. Bucky tensed up when he saw Steve walking closer, but you kept your focus on Sam. Someone cleared his throat next to you and it made you close your eyes. Could he not leave you alone. When you opened your eyes again a new bouquet of flowers were in front of them. A whole lot of different flowers that did not seem to belong together. Almost like he had gone into the first flower shop and just taken the first flowers that he saw. You sigh and stand up turning towards Steve. “I am sorry,” Steve said and pushes the flowers against her chest. She looks down at them again. “I was wrong that you were Hydra.”  “I don’t know how you do it,” you start then glancing at Bucky who had his arms crossed and was about to stand up. “I mean you need to have some special skill.” Steve beams as he thought that you were about to accept his half assed apology. “But every time you open your mouth I want to hit you. With a chair over your head. It must be your talent.” Clint snorts and you press the flowers back at Steve and leaves the room without looking back. You hear someone shout and then some yelling, but you walk fast to your room. Well behind the safety of your own doors you drop down on your bed and that’s when you feel it. A single tear running down your face. You quickly brush it away. There was no reason to cry over a stupid, stupid man. You close your eyes and imagine your grandmother in front of you and trying to understand who she could have seen Steve as her brother. Had Rebecca been blind to Steve’s flaws or did you just bring out the worst of him? With that question you fall into an uneasy sleep, dreaming about your family.

Steve stood outside Y/N room trying to get the courage to knock. Bucky had yelled at Steve and then he had told him to stay away from her, but Steve could not leave it like it was. He needed her to forgive him. He needed to make things right.  “Don’t,” Clint said to the right of Steve. “Listen to Bucky and leave her alone.” “Clint,” Steve sighed and turned to his friend. “No, give her time,” Clint crossed his arms. “And think if flowers really are enough to apologize for your actions.” Clint turned around and walked away. Steve looked back at Y/N door and lifted his hand to knock, but something held him back. Maybe Clint was right. Steve needed something more to apologize. Back to google, Steve decided. 

You were training in the gym with Nat, Sam and Bucky. Nat had challenged you to a sparring fight so the two of you were up in the ring sparring and Bucky and Sam watched the two of you. The best part with Nat was that she did not hold anything back. She always gave it her all and it made the training brutal but fun. You heard the door open to the gym and turned to see so it wouldn't be Steve. This gave Nat the upper-hand to flip you down on the mat. “You should be more concentrated on the fight, instead of watching the door,” Nat commented and Sam chuckled. You sigh and look at Nat. “Do you want to see him or do you want to escape him?” Nat tilted her head to the side.  “I don’t want to see him or hear his weak excuses. If I see him here again with some flowers to apologize,” you groan and sit up. “Then I will take the nearest chair and hit him in the head until he understands that it’s not enough.” “What is it with you and wanting to hit Steve with a chair,” Sam asked. You shrug a shoulder.  “He seems to be the type you have to hit in the head to make him understand things,” You stand up and get ready to fight Nat again. “She is not wrong,” Bucky comments and shakes his head.  Nat and you continued to sparr, unknowing about the fact that Steve was in the city trying to find the perfect apology to give you.

Steve had the perfect apology to Y/N this time. He had it packed up in a nice package and a new bouquet of flowers, white roses this time. Steve decided to try and find Y/N directly since he did not want the flowers to die. This time he knew that his apology was bullet-prof. He had googled for hours and a lot of sources said the same. There was no chance that this could go wrong. He started in the kitchen since he knew that sometimes during the day Y/N would drink a cup of tea, but she was not there. He looked in the library, but all he saw was Bruce reading a book looking serious. Steve did not want to go into the gym, since he knew that Bucky probably would be there and the last thing he needed was to be yelled at again. All he needed was to give Y/N this apology and then everything would go back to normal. He turned a corner and that was when he saw her walking towards the kitchen. It was like fate wanted him to find her alone, Steve decided and walked after her. 

You had been having a bad day and you did not know it was about to get worse. It was the day before the anniversary of your mother's death and you missed her like crazy. If she had been there you would have hugged her close and asked her advice how to handle Steve. You were on your way to make some tea in the kitchen to take back to your room, since your where out of tea in your room.. All you wanted was to be alone and remember your family. You heard steps behind you but figured that it was someone on the team, not really paying any attention to anything. The mood you were in made you feel fragile and distracted. So when Steve stepped in front of you as you were going to take the cattle you froze.  “Hey Y/N,” Steve smiled at you and you just looked at him. You felt disconnected from your body. It seemed as if he took that as a good thing as he handed you another bouquet of flowers. White roses this time. You took the flowers, but just held them down by your side. Steve shook his head and then took the roses from your grip again and placed them on the counter behind you. He lifted your right hand and placed a medium big box in your palm. You looked at the box and his hand was still holding your hand up. It feels like there was a small current going through your skin where his hand was.  “I am very sorry, Y/N,” Steve gave you a small smile and it woke you up. “Please accept this as my apology.” Steve nods to the box. You pull your hand back from his grip and your curiosity makes you slowly take off the bow on the box. Steve is looking at you and it makes you nervous. What was in the box? You lift the lid and in a million years you had never thought anything like that would have been inside the box. It was a necklace and matching earrings placed on royal blue velvet. The diamonds glisten in the light in the room and you look between the box and to Steve. He has a smug smile on his face and it makes you want to cry. He thought this was an apology? Why the hell would he buy you diamonds? “You think this is an apology?” You whisper out and Steve’s eyebrows pull together.  “Did I get the wrong necklace? Should it have been rubies or sapphires?” Steve asked and this made you mad. He really thought this would make you forgive him. You were getting sick of Steve not understanding what he had done wrong and the flowers and jewelry was not what you wanted. What you needed was an honest apology and some truth of why he did the things he did. You trust the box back in his hands.  “You think flowers and jewelry will make me forgive you,” you cross your arms and stare at Steve. He looks down on the floor. “Well, yeah,” Steve cleared his throat. “You thought I was Hydra,” you almost spit out. “You did not trust me and you did not try to talk to me or anybody else. You invaded my privacy and called me a liar. Not even giving me the chance to explain anything.” Steve looks at you and it takes a lot of willpower for you not to hit him again. “When you put it like that,” Steve starts.  “Like that,” You snap at him. “You know I grew up on stories about Bucky and you because grandma thought of you as a big brother. She used to tell me how her brother Steve always fought for the little man. That you never backed down. Always cared about other people. But then meeting you. Getting to know you have been a letdown. You are nothing like I was told. You are like a toddler that could not share your toy.“ You turn around and Steve takes a grip of your arm. “Y/N!” Steve tries. “Just let me be,” You whisper out. Tired of this. Tired of him not seeing how he hurt you. Tired of getting your hopes up every time you saw him that he would really understand and give you the apology you needed. Flowers and jewelry was not an apology. It was bribes. Steve takes a hold of your arm and turns you around, but he drops your arm as if he was holding burning coal when he sees your face and the tears running down it. This time you turn around and run out of the room. You could not face him now. You needed to be alone to cry and keep your emotions in check. If this had been a few days ago or in a few days, you were sure you would not have cried, but right now it was just too much. When you got to your room you asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to keep your room looked and that you would not get disturbed unless it was something important. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything Taglist:

@buckysmischief​

@allaboutthebooz​

Nexus Series taglist:

@dee-vn​​

@soleil-dor​​

@readermia​​

@centerhabit

@mylifeiscrazy0423​​

@buckys-other-punk​​

@owhatshername-blog​​

@shower-me-with-roses

@taketimeandappreciate

[chaotic-wanda]

Better Now

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Song Prompt: Better Now by Post Malone

Word Count: 2.7k 

Warnings: lots & lots of angst, injuries, tiny bit of self loathing, maybe cursing?

A/N: My speedy boy Pietro is still alive in this but besides that, it’s relatively normal. Italicized is a flashback. This is the post fic I’ve posted in like 2 years so I apologize for it being a little rough. It’s for Gab’s Bday Writing Challenge, @buckysmischief​. If you’re not following her yet, you should cause she’s great! Big thank you to @winterprincess-sky​ for looking over it for me and being an amazing, wonderful and helpful human being! Constructive criticism is always welcomed. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Screaming could be heard throughout the Avengers’ compound. Angry words and snarky remarks that usually were forgiven a few short hours later were currently bleeding through the walls. Unfortunately, the team was used to this as it became the new normal for Bucky and Y/N in the past month. One of them would easily set the other off with a simple word or motion that led to an all out brawl. 

After what felt like hours of yelling, Y/N was at her breaking point. With frustrated tears rolling down her face, she looked up at the man she once loved more than anything in the world and with an eerily calm voice asked, “What do you want from me Bucky? What can I do to fix this?” Although her composure was calm, she’d never felt more desperate in that moment.

“I just want you to leave,” Bucky retorted with a cold stare. Giving him one last glance, she turned away from him and stormed out, refusing to let him see how much that one sentence broke her. Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He knew she just needed some space and that everything would be fine within a few days. That’s how it always went. He was leaving for a short mission later that day anyway which would give her the time she needed. 

A few days passed by when Bucky returned from his latest mission. He was expecting to see Y/N waiting for him at the hangar like she usually does, but she wasn’t there this time. Quickly excusing himself, he made his way to their room. He knocked on the door only to be met with silence. After a few minutes of stillness, he started knocking once more becoming desperate. More time passed before Bucky thought ‘Fuck it’ and pushed himself into the room. 

What he met was an empty room. Sure, it might not be completely empty to anyone else. There were still stacks of records next to her turntable, clothes in the closet or half used candles sitting around the room. But that’s not what Bucky saw. Instead, he noticed that it was the important things, her favorite things, that were now missing. Her favorite sweater that was two sizes too big that she always mentioned felt like a hug. Or her favorite book that she’s read more times than he could count. The ring that she had bought herself in Ireland after one of their first missions together and only took off to sleep. What hurt the most though was the photo on your bedside, the one of the two of you after your first official date, was now facedown. She had left, just like he had told her to. 

Bucky felt as if his world was collapsing in on itself as he fell to his knees. He looked around the room, what once was a safe haven for him, but now felt more like a mock of everything he just lost. And there was no one to blame but himself. 

┅

A month had passed since that day and Bucky never felt more broken in his life. He felt empty without her and spent most of his days moping around the gym or staying in his room. Steve decided that enough was enough and that’s how Bucky found himself here at this dingy bar on a late night where the music was too loud and had too many people. Steve and Sam told him it would be good for him, that he needed to get out and some fresh air. So here they were on “boys night” even though Bucky would prefer to be about anywhere else. He’d been nursing the same scotch in his hand for most of the night, knowing it didn’t matter how much he drank since he couldn’t get drunk and because nothing could get her off his mind.

Sam and Steve were having a heated debate over some sports team that Bucky couldn’t care less about. He turned to lean against the bar and observe the overcrowded dance floor. Slowly, his eyes raked through the masses of people until he spotted the last person he thought he’d see. But there she was, dancing in the middle of the crowd, eyes closed and completely lost in the music. 

Bucky immediately leapt up from his seat to try and make his way to her. He struggled to get through the crowd and before he could get to her, he saw someone snake their arms around her. His heart stopped along with his feet as he stared at the scene playing out in front of him. She wrapped her arms around Pietro’s neck, throwing her head back in laughter over something he said. Bucky knew they were friends, but he obviously didn’t realize how close. 

Y/N’s eye caught Bucky’s which caused her to freeze. Once she came to her senses, she wiggled her way out of Pietro’s arms and started to head towards Bucky. He quickly spun on his feet and started walking in the opposite direction. He knew he couldn’t handle any interaction between them now that he had seen her in someone else's arms. Swiftly grabbing his jacket off the bar stool, he barely muttered out a bye to Sam and Steve before walking out. 

Every emotion that Bucky had buried for the past month started pushing it’s way up. The dread of realizing it was really over, the loneliness of having to sleep without her in his arms, and the hurt of her moving on. He knew he couldn’t blame her, and he didn’t. But he couldn’t understand how she moved onto someone else so quickly. She looked better just now than the last few times he’d seen her. Happy even. He was aware he should have been happy for her but he couldn’t help the anger that took over him. Anger at her for moving on, but more importantly anger at himself for pushing her away. 

As soon as he got back to the compound, he headed straight for the gym. Realizing he’d never be able to fall asleep, he figured he’d punch some of this anger out. Bucky threw off his jacket and didn’t even take the time to wrap his hand before punching out every emotion out on the bag. Despite how broken and how miserable he felt, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Thoughts of better days kept swirling around in his mind. 

She had been begging him for weeks to help her set up a hammock. Fall was starting to set in and it was “the perfect time to lay around in the sun with the cool breeze” she had kept explaining. He’d surprised her earlier that day by dragging her out there the second the team meeting was over. Now, he was annoyed with himself for taking so long to put the hammock together because she was right, this was perfect. 

Bucky was currently nestled perfectly between her legs, head laying on her stomach. She was distractedly running her fingers through his hair while reading the current novel that had swept her into its fantasies. The light air blowing around helped to slowly rock them, bringing him closer to sleep. It was the small gasp she let out that interrupted his nap, causing him to look up at her. He realized something must have happened in her book. Her eyebrows were squished together, nose wrinkled and her teeth pulling her bottom lip in. 

He felt his smile grow, loving these moments. The thought of being able to watch her like this every day brought immense joy to him. He was so desperately in love with this woman and he had no idea how to express that to her. 

“I can feel you staring at me,” she spoke so softly that Bucky almost didn’t hear her. 

He grinned up at her, replying, “I don't know what you expect when you make the most adorable faces over fictional worlds.” She playfully swats at him with the book causing Bucky to laugh. This just caused her to swat at him some more before he caught the book in his hands, holding it up higher than she can reach. 

“Wait, you’ll lose my spot!” she gave him her best puppy eyes and pout. At this point, he was no longer laying on her but sitting across from her, the hammack swaying with their movement.

He let out a chuckle, “Well doll, it’s going to cost you to get it back.”

She lunged for him just as Bucky leaned away from her, the motion causing the hammock to turn them over to the ground. They landed with a thump and she found herself falling on top of him. Quickly, she snatched her book away from him making her beam from ear-to-ear, relishing in her victory before they broke out into laughter. 

Once they were able to calm themselves down, Bucky reached up and placed his hand gently on her cheek. Y/N leaned into his touch and looked at him with more adoration than he felt worthy of. He slowly leaned up towards her and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips before pulling ever so slightly back. Not even a second passed before he moved in for another kiss, her lips meeting his just as hungrily. A far contrast from the previous kiss, this one was desperate, passionate even, as he pulled her tightly against him, as if he was hanging on to her for dear life. She melted further into him and he was praying that she understood the feelings of love he was trying to show since he couldn’t find the nerve to speak it. 

When the need for air became too much, she slowly pulled away, eyes still closed, and rested her forehead against his. And that’s the moment Bucky knew he didn’t want to live a life without her. . . 

The punching bag burst after the latest hit and sand was thrown across the room as the bag itself met the floor with a loud thud. He wasn’t sure how long the tears were streaming down his face or how he let things get as bad as they did. He never believed for a moment they would end for good, but as he fell to his knees, sinking to the floor and feeling nothing but misery, he was forced to face the harsh reality of it. 

┅

What should have been an easy in and out mission turned into a disaster and Bucky had no one to blame but himself. He had been so in his head and grief of losing Y/N he wasn’t paying attention like he should have. They were ambushed by Hydra agents and had fought like hell to get out. 

Bucky looked around to account for everyone but as the shock wore off, he felt his breathing was uneven and realized he was shaking. Slowly pulling his hand away from his stomach, he realized it was drenched with blood from two bullets he thought he had missed. Steve looked over just as Bucky fell to the ground and rushed over. The last thing Bucky remembered between fading in and out was Steve telling him to hold on. 

What felt like only moments later, Bucky opened his eyes, taking a while to focus on the white ceiling above him. The beeping of equipment rang loudly in his ears. ‘Well we’re definitely not on the field anymore,’ he thought to himself. Once his vision came back into focus, he started scanning his surroundings and determined he was at the med bay. What he didn’t expect to find was Y/N curled up in a chair to his right passed out. He smiled softly to himself and took the time to study her sleeping figure. She had his blanket from their bed enveloping her with her favorite book barely hanging in one hand, the other laying gently over his own. This is the closest they’ve been since their last fight when she walked out. 

As if on cue, she started to stir in her sleep before barely opening her eyes. She blinked a few times, as if trying to convince herself to stay awake. Bucky drinked in the sight of her. He always loved the moments when she first woke up. Her eyes were hooded, still full of exhaustion, lips just slightly chapped, and her hair always in disarray from not being brushed but he loved the wild look of it. 

After giving her a few minutes to wake up, he gently squeezed the hand she was holding onto. Her eyes went wide as she looked from their hands up to his eyes. “Oh thank god you’re awake,” she rushed out before standing up to try and get closer. “You scared the shit out of everyone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sam so serious which is how I knew it had to be bad.” She was rambling but it made his heart swell and part of him didn’t want her to ever stop.

“As I recall, we made a deal that I would always come home after each mission and you’d be there to greet me with food and promises of a lazy day. I’ve gotta make sure to hold up my end of that deal, doll,” he replied softly. His voice was scratchy from being out the past few days but he’d be damned if he didn’t use it to take advantage of this moment with her. 

She moved her hand up to rest on his cheek, gently stroking it with her thumb as he leaned into it. He could feel the shaking that ran through her body and the tears she was fighting so hard to keep back. “I was so worried about you. I thought I’d lost you,” her voice trembled with every word. Gulping down a big breath to steady herself, she mumbled, “I was thinking… well I thought, maybe I should move back in? A different room of course, just that way I was here to take care of you while you get better.” She was rambling again and looked everywhere but at him. 

“Y/N….” he loved the idea, he truly did, but he knew he couldn't do that to her. She had been better off without him. He didn’t deserve the love she gave to him already and she’d seem so happy the last time he saw her. He sighed before setting her hand that was resting on his cheek down, before he hesitantly responded, “I can’t ask you to do that. In fact, you should go, really.” It broke his heart to even say the words out loud but he knew it would be best for her. 

The tears freely flowed down her face now and she tried to wipe them away, but they fell faster than she could handle. “I shouldn’t have left that day. I should have stayed and talked to you, I know that and I’m so sorry I ran,” she choked on the words. 

He lightly squeezed her hand before replying, “It’s ok, I’m pretty sure I’m the one who told you to leave.” He felt his chest squeeze tighter at the words to come out next, “And now I’m telling you to leave again. I promise, I swear to you, that I’ll be ok.”

She pulled her hand out of his and gave a curt nod before turning to leave. She hesitated for a second, looking back at him with a melancholy smile before uttering, “Get better soon, Bucky.” With that, she turned back around and walked out, passing Steve as she went. 

Steve gave his best friend a sympathetic look but Bucky refused to meet his eyes. “How much of that did you hear?” he asked. 

“Enough to know she’s still in love with you and I know you’re still in love with her, so why did you push her away Buck?” Steve answered, voice full of frustration. 

He begrudgingly looked up at Steve before responding, “Because she deserves more than what I can give her. She’s better now.”

What Bucky didn’t realize is that as soon as you were around the hall, you fell back against the wall, slid to the floor and sobbed. You were falling apart without him. It just seemed as if you were better now because he wasn’t around.

Taglist: @captainscarletwanda​ @the-princess-recommends​ @captainchrisstan​ @marvelousmrstark​ @rogvewitch​ @buckysmischief​

[copias-thrall]

Papa IV in all caps is: PIV

That is all.

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter 16; Escape

Author: @punk-in-docs​ & @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3-  

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: No warnings in this chap

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

                                                      ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

t's not the shade we should be cast in It's the light and it's the obstacle that casts it It's the heat that drives the light It's the fire it ignites It's not the wakin', it's the risin' - Nina Cried Power, Hozier I don’t know why, but something about this song spoke to me writing this chapter 🖤❣️ Along with “Running Away” by Maverick Sabre. One of my favourite artists of all time - go and check him out, he’s simply awesome.

Waiting was her greatest nuisance. She was on tenterhooks all day.

As if expecting someone to burst in and proclaim the true circumstance of her guilt. She’s peeking around corners and dreading every moment of cursed silence. Every lapse in conversation is a dagger in her side. She keeps expecting to be caught out.

By the time the evening draws in, she’s nearly apoplectic. She’s sat in the parlour watching the sky darken. And with every second of it blackening her excitement grows in her chest. Gestating bigger and bigger with every second she hears tick by on the mantel clock.

She hardly spoke through dinner. Just listened to her sisters usual fussing and Mama disapproving of yet someone else of their acquaintance. Iris won’t miss that.

She nearly leaps out her skin when Meg bursts in the clattering dining room door without warning, with a note to hand her father. A missive from the farmhand.

Her heartbeat slows to its normal thud. She’s unaware that her father watches her from down the table with a casting silent eye and a look of concern. Mama and the girls were none the wiser.

Then they sit in the parlour as night is heavy and steely blue-black at the window like a velvet drape. Fire and candlelight cloaks them all as the girls embroider. Mama reads a novel, and father sits behind the spread wall of his paper.

Iris takes a moment to look around at them.

She catches her fathers eye as he turns the page over in his papers. He gives her a fleeting smile that passes the time of day. She watches the way the ochre of the flames in the half blade off the lense of his reading glasses. He returns to his pages.

She’ll miss his silent sympathy. His calm presence was a balm she doesn’t know how she can be without.

She looks across at her vain, silly simpering sisters. She’s astonished to find that she will miss them too.

She’ll miss their gossiping and - amazingly - the screeching matches that erupt over who gets to wear their new bonnet or who gets the silk slippers. Or Iris’s pretty pieces of jewellery. Apart from two very adored beloved pieces she’s taking, she’s leaving the rest for them to scrap over. She smiles thinking on it.

It’s odd to think she’ll be in Bavaria. Living in a castle as a Lady to Lord Ren. And she’ll think of home, and she’ll grin, wondering if her vapid sisters will be fighting tooth and claw - having a tug of war - over her earrings or her pearl clasp bracelet.

She’ll miss Flora’s fiery head. In both temper and colouring. How bravely she defends her poor choices in various men of the militia. Then loves a completely different one the next day. She’ll miss how she always puts a pouch of dried flowers on Iris’s pillow when she picks too many - she always picks too many.

And Posy. Posy and her dreadful sweet tooth. How she always gave Iris heaps of her favourite pudding even though mama insisted she didn’t want her eldest getting too plump. Posy scraped it all onto Iris’s plate when her head was turned. Even if it was her sisters favourite.

And even though the way she borrows her books and dog ears the pages makes iris grit her teeth - she’s going to miss that dreadfully. She’ll see some plain unspoiled page corner in a book and her heart will pang and ring, sobbing, and longing for home.

Such longing.

Yearning for her squabbling siblings. For the sight and scent of her father’s study. For her tribe, where she has belonged for all these three and twenty years of her life. She’s sad that she can’t seem to belong here anymore. That’s one thing that causes her grief her about this arrangement. She must be apart from the three people she loves most.

She isn’t sorry to be leaving. Running away and absconding like a thief in the night. She can’t deny that this is her golden chance to escape. Flee from the life that drowned her.

This is her chance to share in a soul shaking love. One that’s seared her devotion to Kylo right down into the marrow of her bones. Scored his name on her heart in bleeding letters. She’s forever devoted. In a way none of them can yet - or will ever - understand.

She hopes in time, they will forgive her. That their leniency will outweigh the scandal and betrayal of her actions.

She casts a glance across to her mother where she silently reads her novel. No affection springs to mind.

Perhaps if she’d loved her daughter more, Iris could hate her less. If she’d even been affectionate instead of plotting. As it stands selling her eldest like a broodmare to matrimony, didn’t encourage anything for Iris beyond resentment. She was in a loveless unhappy marriage and she has no qualms about seeing her eldest shoehorned into something exactly the same. That is unforgivable in Iris’s mind. To experience the trials of such a match for years - and to then glean no lessons from it. It’s cruel.

And all for her want of connection-

Iris refocuses on her embroidery hoop. Stabbing thread harshly through the muslin and looping it through. She works diligently until the fire starts to die down. Father retires to bed. Watching his eldest with sparkling green eyes as he quits the room. Iris is preoccupied looking into her lap at her sewing.

She too heads for bed. Feigning tiredness even though she’s never been more wired. Never been so wide awake. And she was trying not to do anything out of the ordinary as per her usual routine.

She walks past her mothers and her sisters with a lump in her throat. Committing the last few scraps of moments of them to memory. “Goodnight Flora, Posy. Goodnight Mama.” She says simply as she crosses the room.

They call affable words her way. Mother opts for a single word in passing. “Night.”

Iris wonders if she’ll realise one day that would be the last words she ever spoke to her.

She opens the parlour door and slips out. The fire in the foyer hearth crackles. She sees father is in his study. Judging by the slithering glow of candlelight under the door.

She so badly wants to rush in and sob her goodbyes into his chest. Cry that she doesn’t understand how he could’ve sat there and watches Mama push and shove and pummel her around. She’ll never understand - but all the same, that doesn’t stop her from loving him dearly.

She thinks better of it. Climbs the stairs for bed. Confines herself in her dark bedroom. And then comes the true test of her bravery. She has to wait.

And wait and wait. And listen. Hearing as the whole house slowly drifts to dark. To sleep. For everyone to take to their beds.

She can’t read a novel. She can barely stand sitting still. She sits by the fire. Watching the door. Her bag was packed hours ago. Her meagre clutch of possessions. Some loved items and a couple of her favourite dresses and chemises.

She had penned a note for her family explaining every detail of her reasons for leaving. She left a separate letter for a Hux. Though he’ll probably cast it in the fire when he hears the news.

She’ll be leaving the heirloom engagement ring sat on top of it. Leaving the two ruinous sheets of paper on the end of her bed. Waiting for tomorrow. When it’s discovered she is gone.

Her bag sits by her feet. Along with her coat. She sits in the dark like a lonely widow and lets the amber glow of the fire die.

She’s already laced into her new wool lined boots. She wore two sets of stockings and her heaviest chemise.

She’s in a thick ruby wool dress that will be adequate for travelling. It’s rather a plain gown but it’s warm - he had said to dress warm.

She puts her hair into a free loose bun at the nape of her neck. Tied back with a snip of gold muslin. Her skirts will wrinkle in the coach but she doesn’t care about such a thing. She probably looks dishevelled and not at all pretty. But she cares not-

Everything is ready. Now there is only noiselessness. And anticipation

She hears her sisters dainty thumping treads. And then mothers stern steps. And then Meg and Julia gabbing about something, a man most likely, as they extinguish the candles on the landing and all over the walls and hallways. Putting the whole house into thick dull silence and darkness. Putting the day to rest.

She listens to their footsteps creak and creep up the attic stairs. The door closing in their wake.

Iris crosses to her door and opens it a crack. Peering out she can see nothing but the dull moonlight striping from the far landing window, across the floorboards. Silver streaks chase up to her door in the fluttering moonlight swaying in drips off the tree being fussed in the wind outside. Snow is starting to flake down onto the windowpane.

She shuts the door again. It was nearly midnight and her hour is approaching. She prays her bravery rises to meet it.

Father hasn’t come up yet. He was still in his study most like - she can get out the house without disturbing him. She’s certain. He’s dozed off in his armchair or got his head in his business letters and ledgers for the farm.

She puts her coat and slips her gloves on, she has second thoughts about her scarf and shoves it in her bag.

It contained her life, this travel bag, yet it seemed laughably light. And it carried everything she cherished. There’s something a little tragic about that, she decides.

She seized her bag in one hand, and her modest bonnet in the other. To disguise her hair. Should anyone catch a glimpse of her, out unchaperoned, at this time of night. If they recognised her. She can’t be too careful.

She steps to her door, bonnet and bag in hand. Coat on her back, and she stands there, glancing around at what’s left. She spied the two innocent squares of paper sat on her neatly made bed.

Such small things. And yet the words inked within those pages will alter lives. It seems an odd sort of cruel madness.

She silently steps out into the hall. Shuts the door on her room for good. Shuts the door on all this kind of life had offered her. She edges slowly along the floorboards. Listening to the clock in the foyer tinkle the chimes of the half hour before approaching midnight.

She wished she could give her siblings proper goodbyes. She thinks this as she tiptoed past their door. Her shoe creaks the whining boards and she freezes. Heart thudding up to choke in her mouth.

She feels horrified and sick, until her ears strain for noise and all she can hear is night drawing on around the stone walls outside.

She relaxed and crept further along the landing. The tips of her new shoes avoiding the truly noisy spots. She makes it to the top of the stairs and edges down inch by hushed inch. Glove skimming along the banister in a scraping soft hiss as she goes. When she gets to the foyer she creeps toward the door to the kitchens.

A figure awaits her in the armchair. By a dwindling fire.

Iris gasps and almost drops her bag. Her fear bubbled up and made her lip tremble terribly. She’d been caught out. Oh god no. She opens her mouth to speak but no defence comes.

Her father turns his head from where he’s sat fireside in his dressing gown, in his slippers breeches and shirt. Persian house slippers on his feet. His glasses were folded in his hands and there is a pensive weight on his greying brow.

“Papa...” She squeaks in a horrified whisper.

He eyes the bag and her coat. He is not a senseless man. He’s already well assessed what this means.

He swallows and rises to his feet. Lumbering up to his full, tall height. Pushing himself up off the chair by the arms. Like an aged old oak standing proud.

When he turns into the path of the moonlight flooded window behind him, it’s then that she sees the tears in his eyes. And ones that already stained down his cheeks. Her mouth gapes.

“Forgive me. I didn’t intend you to see me in this state...” He glances at her with red rimmed eyes. Raw and stark against the hazel bottle green of his pupils.

Iris is saddened for him. Turns out she wasn’t the only being in this house to cry alone.

“You are... leaving. So I see.” He comments offhand.

“I can’t marry him. Papa.” She blurts out in a hush.

“I’m sorry. I know you’ll want to stop me. That I’m ruining the family with reckless abandon. To convince me to stay. But you can’t. I cannot do it. I can’t walk into a life I will be leading falsely...” She tries summoning and explanation.

Her father cuts through her speech. Coming closer and clasping her hand in his. “Iris. Iris my dear-“ He soothes. He draws both her hands into his.

“I know.” He answers.

“I have no intention of stopping you. I only wished to detain you for a moment, to give you my blessing.” He offers.

She could be taken down with a tiny waft of a feather.

“Don’t mistake me. Please do not think me blind to your happiness, like your mother is.” He begins.

She’s aghast.

“I have watched you for these past few weeks. Grinding your teeth and holding that tongue of yours back when that entitled boy makes a remark you don’t agree with. I have watched him belittle and ignore you. And pass you over. To treat you as no more than a fertile vessel or commodity to be won. I want more life for you, than his meagre offering.” He holds firm.

“He dulls you. My dear. And you are too sharp and curious and intelligent to marry such a mulish man, who would never appreciate what a strong, kind and capable wife he has.”

Iris cries.

“He already sets your jaw on edge, even now. I can see it. And I cannot, will not, suffer the pain of seeing you trapped unto a marriage where your partner can never love nor respect you.” He tells her. “I know the pain well. It is not palatable.” He sighs.

He drops his eyes in shame. “I have not been a decent father to you. I have let my influence and opinion be set aside in favour of your being governed and bullied by your mother.” He bites out. His eyes fill with more tears. Voice strained.

“I am a coward. Iris-“ He begins.

She shakes her head. But he’s resolute to continue.

“No. I am. I am. And I’ve been weak. And what’s worse still is that I was a silent coward. I didn’t even speak up for the joy of my own daughter. I will never live that... dishonour...down. So long as I breathe. And for that, I am so very sorry. And you have all of my penitence for such a crime.” He says to her. Wringing her hands in his desperately.

“Oh, papa.” She cries. Voice no more than a croak. She throws herself in his arms and he sobs as he clutches her. Sways her into a hug and buried his mouth in her hair. Holding her close. He sniffs and sobs. She feels his chest bob with his cries.

“There is nothing you need apologise for.” She assures him.

Mr Ashton smiles. She was the sweetest soul under this roof. And he’ll miss her with every passing minute.

He pulls back and cups her hands. He doesn’t hide his tears. He doesn’t hide any of it and Iris aches with love for him.

“There is a great deal I must be sorry for, My sweet. I will live out the guilt of it eventually. So long as I’m contented that you are safe and happy.” He says gently. “That can be my saving grace.”

“Lord Ren is a very decent man by all accounts. I’m sorry I can’t claim to know him better than I do.” He counsels.

“I love him.” Iris says freely.

The first time she’s admitted it aloud and it makes more tears come. Father gives her his kerchief and tells her to keep it for the journey awaiting ahead of her.

“Then he is the most worthy and decent man living. Because you are every good thing embodied. And he couldn’t be lacking of those virtues either, or he simply wouldn’t be deserving of you.” He comments truthfully.

He sighs a deep breath. “Get out of this cursed god-forsaken village Iris.” He squeezes her hands tighter. Shaking his head.

Be free.

“Get out of this rotten bloody place and go to him. Marry the man your heart wants. I never did wed for true love, and it’s haunted me, my entire life long.” He promises.

She was the only decent thing his marriage has ever brought to him.

She hugs him again. “I’ll miss you most sorely.” She pledges.

“And I, you.” He strokes her back. Shuts his eyes and savours his daughter before she’s lost to him for who knows how long.

She pulls away he strokes hair off her cheek. Blinking in the sight of her face in the moonlight. For the last few seconds of her in actuality. Committing her to memory. For that’s all he’ll have of her soon.

“With you gone, I sincerely doubt I shall hear anything sensible cross your relatives tongues for quite some time.” He japes.

“Remark upon me in my poor state, once in a while, won’t you. And pray for my dear fraying sanity.” He sweeps more tears away. She blots them onto the back of her gloves.

“I’ll pray daily.” She smiles weakly. Bag in hand. Aswell as her bonnet. If that didn’t educate on the silliness of her sisters - nothing would.

He pauses to retrieve something from the mantel. She sees he clasps a little curved silver item. No bigger than a matchbox. Swirled with ornate silver gilding. He takes it and pressed it into her palm. It strikes a sudden zing of cold at her palm. She knows this ornament. It is the music box. The small Fabergé one that sat on the shelf in his office. His grandfather had imported it from Paris on his travels for her grandmother.

“I would like you to have this. So you have a piece of Ashton heirloom in your pocket as you go away to a brave new world.” He insists.

Iris opens the lid and the little while nightingale pops up, springing free to sing it’s call. She clasps it gently.

“I couldn’t-” She sobs. She remembers her sisters admiring it too. It seemed unfair he should gift it to her.

“No tears. My dear. No tears, I beg you. It’s yours and I’m bestowing it to you. I want you to see it and remark on those here at home, who still and have always loved you. Even if we didn’t show it as we ought.” He insists. Taking his hands from her.

She looks across at him. She’d been mistaken to think herself unloved by her parents. He did love her. He could just never bring himself to say so. Iris is awfully glad he’s taken this moment before all is lost.

“Go now. Make haste. Don’t linger too long bidding me farewell.” He offers. Walking with her across to the hallway leading to the kitchen. She tucks the music box safely in her bag. It chimes and chirps as she nestled it into her clothes. She reaches for him once more.

Iris squeezes his hand. “You have all my love. I’ll write when I can. Not for her.” She shakes her head, biting the word crossly. “But for you-“ She pledges.

“Send it to Mr. Grayson at the farm. He’ll see it reaches me safe.” He urges. She smiles. Nodding. Tears sparkling down her face.

“I’m sorry to say I will have shrouded this house in shame and gossip come the morning.” She frets.

He shakes his head with a fond smile. “We are tougher than we look. Never more so than when we are tested.” He assures. Such confidence in his Apple green and red raw eyes. She instantly believes him.

She throws herself into a hug. Fists a hand in his dressing gown shoulder and takes a deep breath of him one last time. Old leather musk of books and the sting of peppermint. “I love you.” She gasps with sad finality.

He nods. Swallowing a lump of stony sadness down in his throat.

“I wish you all the luck in the world, my dear dear girl.” He smiles. Eyes wet again. He cups her face and admires her for a second.

She clasps his hand tight at her cheek. And then she lets go-

He doesn’t have the strength to watch her leave. It’s too sad. Too hard.

He looks away and doesn’t return his eyes until the latch on the kitchen door softly clicks back into place in its frame.

The air hums with the absence of her. He prays to any god listening to convey her safely into Lord Ren’s arms.

He’d accompany her himself if it wouldn’t be so ruinous to explain come the morning. Why he was out of bed and out of doors at such an hour should anyone wish to seek after him. And she’ll move quicker without his old legs slowing her down.

He turns his eyes up to the snowy swirled heavens. And wills for her to have a better life than the one he could offer her here. He hopes he can see her again one day. When all this has passed. The hope for her is his salvation.

She scarpers across the moonlit lawn. Grass cold and crunching with frost under her feet. Snow is beading gently out the sky.

The clear moon of earlier has been replaced by chowder thick clouds. The cold wraps around her in a harsh biting embrace. Stinging at her exposed skin and making her hurry along all the more.

She takes the back lane to the woods. She didn’t wish to risk walking out in full view of the front of the house, down the drive. The road is pale with ice and dusted with snow. Icing sugar powder of it spills over her shoes.

The woods are already thick with it. Black trunks loom thin and warped; born out the white blanket of the ground. The tips of the trees blaze with flakes caught between them. Flecking the leaves.

She crunches her way along the lane. Her stride was something between a skip and scurry. Breath ghosting up in the air and her heart rattling in her ears. Her lungs sting and burn dry with cold as her breath drags into her body.

She cuts through the woods. Afraid her interlude with her father has made her late, and now Kylo would be worried she’d snubbed him.

She runs quick through the trees. Snapping slushing and scuffing twigs, frost and snow underfoot. Cold sneaks up her skirts where she holds them up to run but she doesn’t care- doesn’t even notice.

The trees are so gathered, that the branches rip at her skin as she sprints through them. Tears at her hair and her clothes. Snags are her and her cheeks sting. She bats away the grabbing things. They were like hands trying to tug her back. Trying to keep her tamed. To root her to this place. She’s having none of it.

Her hair got tangled in the snatching trees too. Pulls and only when she feels loose strands lap at her neck does she realise that the muslin had been torn and ripped right out. She presses onwards.

Her face stings and her eyes stream with cold. She comes up the lane that leads her to the church. Gnarled and slanted stubby shapes of the mossy gravestones are fog grey against the snow and the dark. Broken teeth of them rearing like lumpy beasts up out the snow. She throws the church gate open. Doesn’t care that it creaks. She runs up the worn grass path shoes scuffing at the pristine falling snow.

She comes out into the code of woods the other side of the church. The thing emerged out the snow with shimmering silver stone and the slate of its roof is edged with white where flakes settle. Oozing between the cold stony cracks.

The stained glass windows look dead and dull. The colours murkier in the dark. Smoky black and bleeding crimson staining the glass. The whites of the painted saints eyes seem to be arcing and watching over her in derisory disappointment.

She doesn’t glance back. She makes for the woods where she knows he’ll be waiting. She holds her skirts and she laughs as she runs. Her lungs puffed dry and freezing. But she’s so giddy she feels like her sides will split. Her cheeks ache from smiling. Not far to tread now. The cyclops of the moon hiding behind murky clouds watches her too. Silently keeping her secret.

She clears the worst of the trees and her heart soars when she sees a stark black shape of a coach up ahead. With an equally as tall dark haired man. His back to her as he stands in the snow. Head bowed down in his hands. Hair ruffled and dotted with flecks of it.

She presses a hand to her tummy where she suspects she now has a stitch. Because it simply feels so stupid - the amount of love and bliss thats coursing through her blood.

Kylo is outside the coach, of course he is. He’s much the same as her. He can’t sit still.

The gigantic elegant thing that will convey them to the Highlands set by the edge of the snowy muddy road. He’s pacing on it. Horses stamping in the cold. A shivering driver bundled up in pelts and thick coats.

He’s on the painful knifes edge of fretting. She’s not here yet. And it’s well past midnight. He’s worn circles in the snowy road. His coat heavily lapping and catching at his calves. The cold doesn’t bother him. Doesn’t touch him. He’s wearing a white shirt with the collar left undressed and pulled open.

It spills down his marble carved chest. Revealing him to the dark bitter woods and the snow.

He keeps bringing his silver pocket watch to hand - she’s ten minutes delayed. He watches the eleventh minute tick over.

His mind runs with the possibilities. She could’ve fallen and broken something in her haste.

She might’ve been discovered sneaking out and her mother tied her down, locked her in her bedchamber and threw away the key for good measure. His brain bubbles with mania and panic at the possibilities that could keep her from him.

He turns another circle and scans the horizon again. Sharp eyes not missing a thing. A cold breeze shudders across him from up the road. He stops dead in his tracks. That scent.

That was her. She was here.

He whips around, hands falling by his sides. Just in time to see her emerge quickly from the misty white of the woods.

Clad in her blue coat and a red dress. Her bag in hand. Her hair loose, curling and spilling over her shoulders. Cheeks are red and icy cold. Stung by the wind.

She’s never looked more lovely. So wild and free. And all his.

Her smile grows so great. As does his. She slows to a stop. Panting for breath that she’ll never catch. Not now. Not with him stood there looking all dashing.

Iris hikes her skirts and coat up, and runs straight to him and she’s no shame about it either.

She drops her bag on her way to him, uncaring for its contents. He meets her halfway. Their bodies clash in such a tempest of love.

She throws herself into his chest and he hauls her up so her feet don’t touch the ground. His strength was always so vastly great and he shows it in the way he lifts her so easily. Cradles the precious small weight of her in his big arms.

They collapse into glad sighs and she strokes her hand over his hair. Smiling out in bliss as she holds the back of his head. He clutched her back and her hair and buried his face in the crook of her cold neck. It delights and thrills her and she can’t conceive she can deserve so much happiness-

He sighs into her neck. Smiling into her skin. He draws back and looks right at her beautiful cold-kissed complexion. “Ready for this adventure? Lady Ren...” He asks. Cupping her cheek and most of her jaw.

“Wholeheartedly.” She answers.

He plucks a soft lingering kiss at her cheek and sets her down. Scoops up her bag and her hand and leads her through the crunching snow into the coach.

He opens the door for her and she clambers in. Erland snorts and shifts and stamps at her even from up the front of the carriage. Determined to have his share - he was such a diva he could never be left out.

“She’s coming with us, you great big fool.” Kylo comments to his horse. Iris laughs at their exchange as she settles herself in the plush velvet lined carriage.

Scarlet draping over every inch of it. A watery patch of moonlight slanted and cast down from the windows in the doors. She scoots across the bench for Kylo to sit next to her. He then commands his driver to set off.

Pelts and blankets and garnet silk brocade bolster-cushions line the seat opposite. He’s stuffed it with comforts for her. There’s a basket hamper of food and bottles of drink and a stack of leather bound books. She requires rest and sustenance. He seldom does. Not more than a handful of hours per night. But he’ll enjoy slumbering next to her.

Kylo shuts the door after himself. A gust of snow blooms with the force of it. Puffing into the velvet space. They are quite alone. And the carriage lurches off into that snowy dark midnight. Their new life together begins.

He greets her properly. Makes sure she’s snug in pelts and blankets and tips her face up to his by the chin to kiss her again. Her face pulls into an expression of agonised bliss. Tugs her closer closer closer.

Wraps his fingers around the back of one hip. Slithered his fingers between her coat and her dress.

He nudges her jaw out his way with a cheeky smile and shoved his nose into her hair to push it aside, nips and nibbles sucking teasing kisses down her neck that makes her shiver. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. You’ve no idea how long I’ve been dying to kiss your soft neck.” He grumbles.

He sucks an open mouthed kiss over her pulse and she moans and pants his name. Fingers trapping into the blankets as she says his name like she’s chiding him. They can both feel the desire marching over every vertebrae of her spine.

She shivers. God that felt good. Made her weak. Made her eyes roll back.

“Oh kylo.” She moans. Her toes curl with the sheer raw power of his seductive kisses.

He finds her left hand on her lap and strokes the empty space on her fourth finger.

“Now. I think I had better make this elopement of ours authentic. Had I not?” He smirks. Reaching for his coat pocket.

Then he’s drawing something small out the shadow coloured wool. Her lips part in a smile when he snaps open a small blue velvet box. She’s blinded by diamonds and sapphires.

A cluster of them all crowning a gold band which is set with more gems. Two sapphires surround a large round diamond. Rounded and sparkling gems.

He’s watching her carefully - with a smug expression taking over him as he plucks the ring out its silken nest and slips off her glove slowly, then slots it up onto her finger. It glides on and sits perfectly. He lets her admire for a second. Before lifting the back of her hand to his lips.

“It’s too beautiful.” She comments. Amazed at it. He reaches for the curtain at the window and draws it back. Let’s the moonlight shimmer off the cluster of stones. Fractured light drips everywhere.

“Now that looks a worthy decoration to sit on that pretty kind hand.” He smiles. Before he frowns and turns her head towards him. A curl of copper and iron drifts into his nose.

“Dove. You’re bleeding...” He remarks. When he turns her face there’s paper thin red scratches swiped across her cheeks. She raises her hand to her skin and brings away a dribble of blood.

“I ran through the trees. I must have hurt my cheeks and not realised.”

“How could you not realise?” He asks her as he brings her finger to his mouth and naughtily, suavely puts that fingertip on his tongue and sucks off the blood. Curls his tongue around her taste to savour the way most men would appreciate a fine burgundy wine.

It makes something throb between her legs when he gets his lips on her. His eyes look like they could cut her with a look.

Her blood coating his tongue is too sweet for words. Sweet sweet bouquet. An agonising temptation that he only wants more of.

“I was smiling too much to notice.” She admits in a blush. Chewing on the inside of her lower lip.

He kisses at that blushing sore cheek. Pressing his lips to the barely bleeding cut. It should help soothe and close it. “That makes me insatiably glad to hear.” He smiles.

She searches for his hand and holds it. “I’m sorry I was late to meet you. I ran into my father as I was leaving.” She explains as he leans in to kiss her jaw again.

He pulls back and his face turns rather serious and stern. “He didn’t try and stop you?” He seeks.

“He could not stand to see me wed to such a loveless man as Hux. He gave me his blessing to wed you. I didn’t think I’d be walking away with that.” She tells.

He suspected there was a reason to Mr. Ashton’s silence. And now he knew; it was guilt. He’s glad to see she is loved from her fathers quarter. It soothes him.

“I’m glad you were able to make your peace with him.” He confesses. Holding her dear sweet little hand in his own massive grasp.

She looks up at him. At that handsome earnest face that is watching her so intently. So full of love and desire.

“As am I. But for now. Can I be terribly audacious and ask you to kiss me again?” She seeks with a grin.

She squealed nearly as Kylo tugs her tight into his lap. Folds her thighs over his. One hand covering her ribs under her dress. Fingers teasing under the swell of her breast. His smirking lips kiss and nibble under her jaw and she gasps in bliss.

“Thought you’d never ask...” He smirks and growls into the scorching heat of her neck. It tumbled right through her and she knows more desire is to come.

”And if you hadn’t? I’d have had to taste those pretty lips without your permission.” He sighs cheekily.

He swoops up and takes her mouth and she truly things she might burst into flames.

His silky tongue falls like cream running along her lower lip. She shivers at the sheer erotic desire of it. And this is only the start-

He’ll need to be careful. Or he’ll have kissed her lips raw by the time they reach Scotland.

~

[purplesurveys]

979

survey by xalikattx

FOOD

What is your favorite salad dressing? I’m not really familiar with most of them as I only consume one type of salad and the recipe for that usually calls for mayo and some kind of spicy sauce. I guess that’s my favorite dressing by default.

Favorite sit-down restaurant? Yabu for days. I personally don’t think that will change for me. Mama Lou’s is also nice but its crowd can be so boujee it kills the dine-in experience for me.

Favorite pizza topping? I’m easy to please; I just like my pizzas cheesy.

What food could you eat for two weeks straight and not get sick of it? Fried chicken sandwiches.

What do you put on your toast? Butter is fine with me. I don’t really eat toast.

What food do you eat the most? I have rice in every meal.

Do you like food? Yes.

Do you LOVE food? Yesssssssssir. I have my preferences and things that I don’t like but I’m not picky for the most part, and I love being adventurous with the foods I try.

Do you even eat at all? ...What kind of question is this

What do you put on your ice cream? I never customize my ice cream. I usually consume ice cream however way it’s already served. 

Do you like steak? For sure.

Or are you a vegetarian? No.

How about a vegan? No.

What food do you hate the most? I’ve never learned how to appreciate kakanin, which is a group of a variety of sweet rice cakes that we have in Philippine cuisine. This has definitely caused my Filipino card to be revoked in the past lol, but ugh the texture is just so slimy and I hate how, even though we have so many types of kakanin, they all just taste and feel like sticky, chewed-up rice doused in sugar and coconut flakes. Korean rice cakes taste so much better.

TECHNOLOGY

How many TVs are in your house? We have four. Two downstairs, two upstairs.

Do they all work? I think the one in my brother’s room has stopped working but we just never get around to throwing it out because of the possibility of it getting fixed someday.

Do you have Comcast digital cable? I don’t know what that is. Probably a US thing? In that case we don’t. We used to have cable TV but my dad ceased our subscription a few months ago because no one in the family has been watching the TV for cable anymore and he got sick of paying for something that we don’t even avail of; we all stream our shows and movies on Netflix now.

AT&T Uverse? Definitely no AT&T on this side of the world, so no.

Dish Network? No.

Something else? Obviously.

Nothing? Again, it was a local cable provider but we’ve since cut off our subscription.

What's your favorite show? Of all time, Breaking Bad. Currently, it’s The Crown but I’ve been such a bad viewer at the moment; I stopped watching at some point a few months ago and haven’t gone back to Netflix since, welp.

What's the worst show? I don’t objectively know what’s the worst one out there but when it comes to my personal preferences, I’ve just never seen the appeal of shows targeted to teenagers or a younger demographic in general, like Teen Wolf, 13 Reasons Why, Riverdale, the TV adaptation of Scream, etc. Of course, this is just my own taste and I certainly don’t judge people who enjoy these shows. 

What color cell phone do you have? The official name is Space Gray but that’s too fancy so let’s just call it black.

What kind? iPhone 8.

What does the first text message in your inbox say and who sent it? So I scrolled all the way down to the bottom of my text threads and the last person on the list is Ate Frances, and she was just telling me to check my Messenger because she had sent me a question regarding an event our org was holding at the time.

What was the last text you sent and who did you send it to? Gabie. I simply said “hi.”

Who was the last person to call you? My mom.

Who was the last person you called? Gab.

CURRENTLY

Are you missing someone? Yeah but let’s not get into it.

What are you listening to? I can hear rain pouring from outside my window.

Watching? It’s mostly background noise because I’m focusing on this survey, but I have on a YouTube video playing.

Worrying about? Work. I was tasked to think of PR executions for a client over the weekend and I just really really dislike it when I’m assigned to something that forces me to brainstorm, so ugh. Wish me luck because my brain juices have been feeling weak all weekend.

Where are you? I’m in my bedroom, my favorite place to be these days.

What's it like there? Lonely, but it’s quiet and comfortable. I used to avoid my bedroom all the time everyday because it makes me depressed, but now I am depressed and prefer to stay here all the time too.

How are you feeling? A little sad but I think tonight’s one of the nights I can fake it a little more easily, which is decent enough for me.

Is anyone with you? Who? Just Kimi.

Are you hungry? I haven’t had an appetite in a while. No.

What do you want to eat? I’m not craving anything.

Thirsty? I’m good, thank you.

What do you want to drink? I might end up drinking some of the plum soju that’s been in the fridge for months tonight, even though I told myself I wasn’t interested in touching it lol.

What time is it? 6:58 PM.

LASTS

Thing you ate? A tuna empanada.

Thing you drank? Pretty sure it was just water.

Thing you said? “Go, pee” It was to Kimi as I set him down on the balcony.

Movie you watched? I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Ugh, I really should watch a more light-hearted movie soon because this answer is such a depressing one and I’m tired of mentioning it.

Store you went to? What did you buy? Grocery store; dog food.

Person you talked to? My sister.

Person you hugged? I think it was Gabie.

Kissed? Also her.

Yelled at? I haven’t raised my voice in a while. I don’t remember anymore.

Book you read? Midnight Sun.

Thing you touched? Other than the keyboard, I pushed up my eyeglasses.

Person you became friends with on Facebook/Myspace/whatever other site? [continued the next day] A co-intern, Justine, added me on Facebook. I honestly don’t see the point of being Facebook friends because we’re bound to part ways and never encounter each other again after our internship...but I guess it’s nice to have friendly co-workers.

RANDOM

Are a righty or a lefty? Righty.

Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Just a decaying tooth, but otherwise no organs or anything larger.

What is the last heavy object you lifted? Does Cooper count? Little man has been getting so big over the last few weeks. He’s finally getting the growth spurt that we’ve been waiting for :’D But I don’t really do heavy lifting around the house, so.

Have any scars? Sure.

How did you get them? Any interesting stories? Most of them are scars from childhood falls, because I was the clumsiest kid in the neighborhood and tripped and scraped my legs at least once every time I played outside. There’s a scar on my left eyebrow from an idiot cousin who had been out to make me blind, and then there’s the self-harm scars as well.

if it were possible, would you want to know the day you're going to die? Yes. It’s one of the things I’ve always wanted to know.

If you could change your name, what would you change it to? I’m happy with mine. I’m not five anymore.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? If it was like sriracha then yeah. Not willing to do anything overly hot, though.

How about 10 bottles of ketchup? I’d be more enticed if you offered mayonnaise, but even then I think such a feat deserves a higher prize than $1000.

10 bottles of maple syrup? Thinking of how thick that is already hurts my throat. Pass.

A bottle of vinegar? HELL no.

10 jars of peanutbutter? HELL yes but again, I’m gonna be asking for more money lol

How many pairs of flip flops do you own? A couple. They’re not my favorite things to wear so I don’t feel the need to collect a lot of them.

Favorite month? April because birthday month; December because even though that’s when my depression strikes the hardest, everyone else is caught up in the holidays and that allows me to guiltlessly cut off contact with people for a few weeks.

Do you always answer your phone? If you mean calls, then no. I do not pick up if it’s an unknown number, but after rejecting I immediately text them asking who they are and what they’re calling for. I just feel like it’s proper etiquette to text before you call, especially if you’re reaching out to me for the first time.

It's four AM and you get a text message, who is it? Gabie for sure. She’s on the graveyard shift, so it wouldn’t be a surprise.

If you could change your eye color what would it be? I’m okay with mine, but if I got reincarnated as a foreigner I’d love to have hazel eyes. They look very pretty.

Do you own a digital camera? Not anymore. My phone camera can take good enough photos.

Do you take lots of pictures of yourself? Hell no.

Do you take them in front of the mirror in the bathroom? Nope.

Have you ever had a pet fish? I had several goldfish as a kid, yes.

Pet hamster? Nope. That’s mostly a Western thing too I think; I don’t think I know anyone who’s ever had a hamster.

Bird? We had lovebirds before; they were so low-maintenance and made for such sweet pets.

Rabbit? Yep. Tobi was a bit of a handful, but I loved him all the same.

Iguana? No.

Favorite Christmas movie? Love Actually and It’s A Wonderful Life.

Favorite Christmas song? Probably It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas. It’s so soothing and yet makes me feel festive and excited for Christmas.

Can you do push ups? I can, doesn’t mean I’m good at holding myself up ha.

Can you do a chin up? I can but I hate those.

Does the future make you nervous or excited? Both.

Ever been in a car accident? Just minor ones.

Do you have an accent? I think everyone does. I’ve honestly never understood this question lol, if I go to a different country or continent, people are always going to have an accent in my ears. Even in my own country, I can think of a number of accents I’ve heard people speak in.

What song always makes you cry? 26 by Paramore.

Have any plans for tonight? Rest my tired head.

What were you doing at 12 AM last night? Talking to Gabie.

What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? Ugh, Monday.

[fuwafuwamedb]

Teaching An Enkidu (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Enkidu)

What on earth…?

Hakuno stared down at the last student entering her classroom. Their coat was buttoned with the utmost care, their scarf tucked into the top of their coat as they held their backpack and looked up at her with their bright little eyes.

Their hair had been brushed back into a careful bun for the day.

They were very cute, but…

“Y-you don’t want to make friends?”

She glanced at her roster of students, finding the little one’s name.

Enkidu Bilgames.

That name sounded immensely familiar, but she couldn’t place it offhand. It would have been useless to try thinking of it when the child before her was nodding.

“I only need one friend. Thank you though.”

The little one hurried to their desk and undid their coat, chatting away happily with some of the other children in the classroom.

That was only the tip of the Enkidu iceberg though.

The child was into everything.

Hakuno had the children gather paper plates and settled a collection of colors onto the plates for them to use to paint pictures for their families. The little one took one look at the colors and began to paint anything but the paper before them. She had a mess of a child within moments of turning her back to the little one.

She had one of the neighboring teachers watch the classroom and she brought Enkidu and the principal to the bathroom for cleaning the child up.

She opted to do a storytime.

Somehow, when she would get into the middle of reading, she would find the young Enkidu slipping closer and closer to her side, squirming onto her lap as she read.

“Keep reading, please.”

She wasn’t going to read with one of her students on her lap.

They went outside to play for a time.

Enkidu remained firmly at her side, their scarf back around their neck as they would point out the troublemakers on the playground.

“Artoria! You can’t be hanging upside down like that! Someone will get hurt!” Hakuno called out to the student deciding to make her claim on the big kids’ area.

“I had a couple of the students sit on the bench like you had the others do,” Enkidu told her when she came back to her good spot on the playground.

“Enkidu-“

“They were getting into a fight. You’re welcome.”

The child smiled brightly to her, but that wasn’t a good sign.

Wanting to avoid having friends, disciplining other students…

Hakuno knelt down, holding Enkidu’s shoulders and smiling. She brushed some of their bangs from their face.

“Enkidu. It’s very important to make many friends.”

“I have one friend. That’s all I need.”

Their parents were probably the busy kind, the kind that had Enkidu looked after by a nanny. She hummed a moment before inspiration struck.

“Do you have any food that’s your favorite?”

“I like fruit,” Enkidu replied immediately.

“Do you eat fruit all the time?”

“No. My father’s assistant says I can’t.”

“That’s right, but there are other foods that you like a lot too, right?”

Enkidu pressed a finger to their chin a moment before nodding. “I guess. Nothing is as good as fruit though.”

Oh, sweet child, ignorant to the world of butter cake.

Hakuno nodded to them. “It’s good to have friends like it’s good to have foods. You won’t get bored, you help your body in a lot of ways, and your friends introduce you to new things. Does that make sense?”

This is why she taught kindergarten.

Logic didn’t have to be sound. It just needed to make enough sense that the children would understand and do the right thing.

“Okay,” Enkidu replied.

The child went to play with Artoria and Hakuno sighed in relief.

Things were dwindling down to a peaceful afternoon.

Snack time was calm.

Learning how to tell the days of the week was a fun little exercise that had the lot of the kids smiling away and gabbing with one another.

Then it was time for them to go home.

Each of them lined up by the door… Except Enkidu.

“Enkidu, you have to get in line,” Hakuno told them.

They slipped their hand into hers, shaking their head.

“Enkidu-“

“I want to hold your hand.”

There was always one clinger.

Hakuno led him to the back of the line and had Moses hold their hand for the moment.  

“We’ll do buddies to go to the door,” Hakuno told them all.

They moved through the hallways to the door and Hakuno waved them off happily as their parents came forth to meet them. All of her kids were soon welcomed and heading off on their way home for the evening.

All but Enkidu.

The little one sighed, pulling a game system from their bag and beginning to play on a bench nearby.

“Enkidu,” Hakuno frowned, settling onto the bench beside them. “Where’re your parents?”

“I just have my adopted father. He’s working. I’ll be here.”

That wasn’t going to work.

“Come on, Enkidu.”

She led the child back inside and to the main office, settling the child down with her lunch box as she pulled the boy’s file and dialed their family.

No answer.

“Can I have some of this?” Enkidu asked.

“Sure.” She waved a hand, heading off to get Principal Da Vinci.

They tried together, waiting for someone to answer the phone.

The rain was starting to come down when someone came running up to the front doors. The blond ran into the building, glancing around as Hakuno held the phone to her ear.

“Gil!”

“Enkidu!”

The blond hurried into the office, scooping the young child up and holding them close.

It must have been traffic or something.

“Gil, try this!”

Hakuno watched the blond eat some of the remaining butter cake she’d had, his eyes closing appreciatively.

“Average.”

“This is my favorite food now.”

The man shrugged, glancing over to her. “…Do you know who that food belongs to?”

“It’s from my lunch. It’s butter cake.”

“Gil, Miss Kishinami is going to be my friend now.”

“Oh is she?”

Enkidu nodded. “She likes remaining fair to everyone, sweet foods, helping others, reading books, and she has no one important.”

No one-

“A single woman as a teacher?” The man snorted, turning with Enkidu in his arms. “There are often reasons for that kind of thing, Enkidu. Let’s go home.”

“You’re alone too,” Enkidu pointed out.

And there was a reason for that.

“Mister Gilgamesh!” Hakuno moved forward, following after the duo. “School lets out at 3 in the afternoon. You had Enkidu here until 8.”

“And we’re leaving.”

That was all well and good, but- “We can’t be doing this every day for you. If you are going to be unable to be here on time, you may want to consider having them ride the bus or maybe going home with a friend in class until you can pick them-“

The man stopped, glaring over her way.

She halted as well, trying not to react.

“Are you saying I’m a bad parent?”

Yes.

“I’m saying,” Hakuno argued, “that it would be nice for Enkidu to have some stability. They could go with someone and then you could pick them up from there. Instead, we had to make Enkidu wait in the office today.”

The man moved closer, eyeing her carefully.

“Do you have someone that could pick them up or a key that Enkidu could have for letting themselves into your home after taking the bus home?”

“You are being nosy.”

“I’m being proactive about this.”

“That is not your job, Kishinami. Your job is to wipe noses and keep a room of kids distracted until the end of the day.”

Fuck him.

It was tempting to tell him where he could take that comment. In fact, it was on the tip of her tongue to do just that… but Enkidu was there, watching with great interest.

Hakuno smiled, nodding to the man. “That’s a part of my job and one that I take great pride in. My distracting is actually educating them. Telling Enkidu how to read clocks and how to do simple things that you don’t have time to teach them. By the end of the year, Enkidu will be ready for the next step in their education. They’ll be able to ask better questions and behave better when you both go out. They’ll understand more.”

She gave Enkidu a small smile before turning.

“Enkidu is a great kid. Please think about how you want to pick him up at the end of the day. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you both in the morning when you arrive.”

She moved away, hearing Enkidu’s voice behind her.

“…Can she be my mom?”  

[artificialqueens]

Under Her Eye - Chapter 1: The Commander's Wife (Branjie) - Gab

a/n: I decided to write this Handmaid’s Tale AU completely because I couldn’t stop imaging Brooke in the blue-green dress Serena Joy wears in the show. I tried to make sure that this would make sense even without having read or watched the Handmaid’s Tale. It doesn’t really have spoilers from the show but it does operate in exactly the same universe. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Commander’s Wife

word count: 2061

Brooke Lynn Hytes was terribly lucky.

Well, terribly being the operative word. She was not dead nor a slave, but the world is terrible, and she got lucky.

The world in question is Gilead, a bloody dictatorship drenched in gospel, carved into what once was the United States of America. On the outside, it was a picture of peace: white, gorgeous buildings in the city centers, surrounded by the large, sprawling homes of the commanders. Trees dotting the clean streets as women in red walked in pairs, to and from the shopping district. All you have to do is ignore the soldiers, known as Guardians, stationed at every block, gun in hand. All you have to do is ignore the wall decorated with the hanging bodies of heretics and rebels. All you have to do is shut your ears to the deafening silence of the slaves they name handmaids. Yes, it certainly is peaceful.

The war broke out so slowly it was as if it had been leading to this moment for a thousand years. It started with a few controversial figures preaching across TV screens. Then laws changed, then borders closed, then people were taken, silenced, murdered.  It was a crack in the mirror, slowly spreading, branching, twisting until you could no longer see a reflection through the panes of glass. Until you forgot what reflection was supposed to be there in the first place. Until you found relief in the shatter because finally, we see clearly again. Until you forgot that seeing clearly meant no longer seeing what once was. Gilead was the shatter, where society was completely knocked down and replaced. Commanders ruled the country as though they were touched by God. Wives belonged to their husbands. Handmaids bore children they could never keep. Marthas cooked and cleaned. Unwomen worked and died. Everyone pretended they were happy doing God’s work. No one was.

Life was superficial at most, and at the very least, it was placating. Wives didn’t complain, Marthas did as they were told, and Handmaids shut their mouths. If anyone remembered the time before the war, they dismissed it as a dream, pushed those memories so far down the recesses of their brains so maybe, just maybe, they would forget how sweet freedom tasted.

Brooke remembered. She remembered the rows upon rows of books lined in her family’s study. She remembered dancing ballet in her studio, floating above the wooden floor. She remembered the day she was promoted to partner in her father’s firm. She remembered kissing girls and giggling in empty hallways and conference rooms. She remembered her father bringing her to museums and historical sites, telling her to learn their history so it never repeats.  She also remembered the days leading up to the war. How she had watched the book burnings in the streets. How she cried when they told her she couldn’t dance anymore. How they had stripped her of her position in her father’s firm, just as they would’ve appointed her CEO. How her past girlfriends had slowly disappeared into black vans, never to be seen again. How she sat by her father’s deathbed as he whispered his goodbyes, his apologies. How she signed her name on a marriage certificate next to that of the man who took her place in her father’s company. How her father asked her to marry George, just before Gilead formed, just before his last breath.

He is a man of God. He will keep you safe. He will keep you alive. These last words echoed in her ears when she signed away her possessions, her body, her life to the man who is now her husband. Her father didn’t say he would be kind. He didn’t say he would be good. Just that he would keep her safe.

He will keep you alive. The word was cruelty dressed in kindness.

George Hytes was a powerful man, and he did as every powerful man did: seek more power. He sat on Gilead’s highest council, making decisions for people he would never know, signing away the freedoms of people he would never meet. Brooke didn’t know what he was in charge of, now that the firm had been absorbed by the state. She didn’t know and she would never know. Her place wasn’t there anymore, it was at his home, playing the part of his perfect wife. He never hurt her at least, he was never cruel or abusive. Simply cold, much to Brooke’s gratitude. She knew she had more than most. She had a beautiful home, a Martha—what this new society called their housekeepers—named Nina, and all the knitting yarn and baked bread she could want. Her husband demanded nothing of her, he didn’t touch her. And if Nina screamed on days he came home drunk, if the handmaid cried out late at night behind a locked door, Brooke couldn’t say a thing. She simply sunk into her mattress, forcing her mind to go numb, forcing her eyes to close and let her escape for just a few hours.

Brooke’s daily routine started with her waking up just as the sun was rising. She would brush her blonde hair back and watch it fall just short of her shoulders, slick and out of the way. The long blue dress she was made to wear was stiff but elegant, and hit just above her ankles. No makeup, no perfume—she wouldn’t know where to begin looking for those anymore. The stores sold little else than essentials these days. They said it was to conserve resources for the war effort in the west, and yet there was always an abundance of prayer books and rosaries, lined with gold and pearl. Even the lotion she spread on her hands and neck was contraband, a luxury she could afford with the little pull she had left. She looked herself over, never longer than she needed to, tucking a stray hair behind her ear before heading out the door. Her husband was off again today, travelling across the country, motivating troops or whatever else he did. She didn’t know, didn’t ask. Brooke never had much to do anymore except for her daily appearance at the park with the other wives and the odd invitation to a gathering or a baby shower. She didn’t engage by choice, it was time wasted on insincere conversations with women just as clout-hungry as her husband, but it beat going crazy attempting to knit. All that, however, was in the afternoon, hours away. She went straight to her sitting room, drawing the curtains slightly and lighting a cigarette. Another luxury she risked enjoying, but never outside, never where someone could see. She was on her last box, maybe that was a sign of some sort. She could quit. She could find something that could kill her faster than a morning smoke. Just as she allowed herself a few more moments of contemplation, she heard footsteps down the hall, and a small push on her door.

“Pancakes Mrs. Hytes?” Nina bustled through Brooke’s sitting room, more jolly than usual. Well, more jolly than when Mr. Hytes was around. Nina paused at Brooke’s desk, looking at her with a furrowed brow. “You should really quit with those things. I’m not sure if I can get you more.” Nina said seriously, but with a glint in her eye that suggested she’d try anyway. She’d keep trying. Brooke smiled as she accepted the breakfast.

“I’ll try if you do.”

Nina chuckled, shaking her head. How she managed to have any joy in this world was beyond Brooke. The older woman was a quiet comfort most days, her demeanor being especially light when the commander wasn’t around. Sometimes Brooke would ask her to talk to her in her sitting room, or during her meals, or as she sat in her bath. They weren’t allowed to talk about their old life, but bits and pieces slipped through. Nina would talk about her children, her dogs, her love for baking french pastries and reading stories to children in the libraries. It was an escape, a glimpse of something real. Nina never let it last however, she would end each story with a laugh full of sadness. Could you imagine having to take care of dogs? Imagine having to teach little girls to read? Goodness, things are much simpler now aren’t they? Almost like she was trying to convince herself of that very fact. Brooke couldn’t judge, they all had to cope somehow. As she sat and ate, Nina listed down her schedule and reminders for the day.

“Of course there’s your stroll after lunch, we’ve been sent good weather after all! Oh and the Baileys are inviting you to tea this afternoon so I’ve told the driver to prepare for that and um… oh! Yes, the new handmaid is set to arrive this evening—”

“Wait, come again?”

“Oh the new handmaid? The center is sending one over tonight seeing as our current Ofgeorge is to be sent to the colonies. She left just a while ago.” This stunned Brooke for a moment, but it wasn’t the first time she was kept in the dark under her own roof.

“What did she do?”

“Oh you know, she’s been with a few commanders and well…” Nina trailed off, trying to keep a sympathetic smile on her face. Brooke knew what that meant. She hadn’t gotten pregnant. And by the laws of state and scripture, if the fruit is rotten, so is the womb. “But nothing to fear! Our new Ofgeorge would be here soon enough. We’ll get a baby into your arms yet, Mrs. Hytes!” She said, happily tidying up the plates as Brooke finished.

“Praise be.” Brooke muttered absently. The thought of having a child through this system disgusted her at first. The idea of the handmaid disgusted her. Her husband, raping a poor girl, as she watched, as she held her down. After the first night of the ritual, Brooke had thrown up, cried into her pillow for days. She knew it would happen, she had been told it was the will of God, but to sit there, hold the girl, see the fear and sadness well up in her eyes because she was forbidden to let it reach her mouth, it was monstrous. Brooke was a monster, and she let that thought consume her, torture her every day until she was numb. Until she felt nothing. She never knew Ofgeorge’s real name, the handmaid was forbidden to say it. As far as anyone in Gilead was concerned, the handmaid belonged to her commander as though she was a branded possession in a bright red coat. Perhaps it was easier that way, possessions couldn’t feel pain. Possessions couldn’t be hurt. And if Brooke didn’t look her in the eye on the nights of the ritual, maybe she could believe it. Maybe she could stay numb.

The hours ticked by as the sun began to set, and Brooke was shedding her coat and gloves from a dull tea time with the Baileys. She sat at her desk, absentmindedly twirling some stray yarn around her finger, almost forgetting about the last item on today’s agenda when Nina entered her sitting room.

“Mrs. Hytes? Our new Ofgeorge is here.” Nina said warmly, gesturing to the small figure behind her draped in red, her hair covered in a white cap. Brooke breathed deeply, nodding at the two to enter as she rose from her seat.

“Blessed be the fruit, Ofgeorge.” Brooke said, taking in her appearance. She was much shorter than her, with deep caramel skin and dark curls peeking out from under her cap. Her eyelashes fluttered, eyes flitting nervously around the room. Her hands were clasped in front of her far too tightly to be in prayer, as if each fist was holding back the other. She was biting her lips so hard that they were turning red.

God, she is beautiful.

Brooke’s thought came without warning, catching her by surprise. Almost cruel how some sensations can crawl their way out of repression so quietly. Her heart sped up, and in that moment she feared that someone would hear it. The handmaid’s eyes locked with hers, and she swears that in those eyes she saw fire and energy and anger and life.

“May the Lord open.”

[reject-princess97]

James McVey Imagine

I gabbed my bag and keys before making my way out of my flat and then out of the building into the streets on the cold British night. I pulled my coat tighter around me as I made my way to the train station. Although it was cold It was a nice, clear, stars shining bright kind of night. It was only 8pm and my train doesn't leave until 9:30 so I had plenty of time so I took a nice, peaceful walk to the train station which was only a ten minute walk from where I lived.

I set off, my suitcase trailing behind me, my handbag hung by over my shoulder and my sneaker treading along the floor. I hummed along a song I had stuck in my head, 5 colours in her hair by Mcfly.

I was about fine minutes away from the station when I heard someone call my name. I turned around only to find nobody there so I carried on walking.

It was a few seconds later when I heard my name again. I turned around and this time I saw my Ex boyfriend Danny. I turned away and tried to ignore him but he grabbed a hold of my wrist.

"Where you going Y/N?" He asked. I blanked him and tried to pull away only for him to pull back and his hand was suddenly across my cheek.

I felt tears fill my eyes as the sting on my cheek worsened as he forced my too look at him.

"I asked you a question bitch!" He growled as he pushed me down.

I stumbled to get back up but he grabbed my arm and pulled me close. He grabbed my bag and hit me again.

I stood up and, make a grab for my bag but he only laughed as I fell forward. He grabbed me and threw my bag at his friend as he pulled me close and kissed, hard. I lifted my knee to make contact with his "area" and I ran, not worrying about my bags as I legged it.

I ran into a near by car park that was filled with buses and I ran over to that first bus I was and began banging at the door, calling for help until the doors opened. I fell to the floor, sick and panicked over what happened, when I heard someone speak. I turned to see James McVey of The Vamps

"Hey, are you OK?" He asked I nodded and looked around me, fear taking over.

"I..I..I was attacked by my Ex and his friends and I..." I broke down and he quickly moving to help me stand.

"Okay, come on in." He offered and I nodded, following him in and sitting at the table, James explained to the boys what was going on and they ll nodded understanding.

"OK, well, Brad will make you some tea, Con, go find Joe and Tris..."

"I'll call the police." Tristan interrupted grabbing his phone and walking out of the bus.

"I'll sit here with you if that's OK?" James smiled sitting across from me. I nodded and smiled at him.

"Sure, I don't mind" I smiled sadly.

"Here, you can borrow my jacket, you look freezing." He said as he pulled his hoodie off of himself and wrapped it around me.

"Thanks." I smiled again. I heard the door of the bus open and I walked another man, I was assuming he was Joe and my assumptions was confirmed when he introduced himself.

"Hi, I'm Joe, do you want to tell me what happened?" He asked as he sat down next to me.

"Sure, well, I was on my way yo the train station to get the train to my parents house in Blackpool, I'm taking my little sister to a concert Friday night, your concert actually. Anyway I was on my way to the station when I was jumped by my EX and his friends. They took my bag and case that has everything in it, my keys, my phone, my money and ticket for the train." I told them

"The police are on the way." Conor told us entering the room again.

Here, your tea." Brad smiled softly at me as he handed me to cup. I let out a sigh as I took a sip, trying to keep calm. Then I remembered something.

"OH, Crap...my sisters gonna kill me" I blurted out.

"What's up?" James asked concerned.

"The tickets to the show, they were in the bag...she's gonna hate me."

Y/N, you'll be fine." James tried to reassure me.

"No, you don't understand, Danny, my EX used to be really controlling. I missed Christmas because of him and it broke mt sisters heart that I wasn't there. I got her the tickets as a way to say sorry and I promised her the best Christmas present I could find, there was at least £300 in that bag for band merch and stuff oh god, I'm gonna have to disappoint her again. Oh God, I'm the worst sister ever." I cried.

"Hey, it's OK, listen, We can sort out the tickets the show and we can give your sister a bag of merch." Joe smiled at me. "In fact, I'll get the boys to sign a birthday card for her." He offered.

"You don't have to do that, I can handle her." I smiled at him.

"No it's fine and I'll tell you what. After you've spoken to the police, you can hitch a ride with us. Like you said, we've got a show in Blackpool anyways so we'll get you to Blackpool safe." James offered.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Absolutely, we don't leave until tomorrow though." Brad added.

"It's OK, ill call my sister and...oh right, no phone." I sighed.

"You could go back to your place after the police have been, call your mum and grab some clothes then you can come back to the bus." Tristan told me.

"OK, sure." I nodded,

"Great, I'll sort you out a car for you to go home and back."

"Can someone come with me, I don't wanna go alone?" I asked,

"I'll go with her!" James spoke us and Joe nodded

"OK, fine, but you'll have an hour, OK?" He informed us and James and I nodded.

I jumped a little when I heard a knock,

"Guys there are some policemen here." A voice shouted from outside the bus. Joe stood and opened the doors and the boys all followed

"We'll leave you here to speak to the police alone and we'll be back as soon as they leave." James told me and I nodded.

An hour later the police had left and James and I were at my home, I packed some clothes in a bag and then grabbed my landline and dialled my mums number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, mum it's me."

"Y/N what's wrong, why are you calling me on you're landline? Wheres your phone." my mum asked.

"Something happened with Danny..." I began but was cut off by my mother,

"I know it, you're not coming, you do this every time." She yelled at me.

"Mum, I'm still coming, Danny and his friends...."

"I don't want to hear it!" She snapped at me, cutting me off. "This is exactly like Christmas and..."

"Mum, on Christmas day I was laid in a hospital, barely able to open my eyes." I yelled at her

"Yes, well, you dated that woman beater, you should face the....."

"We had broken up by then, you know what I'm not doing this again, I have to go. see you tomorrow." I sighed as I hung up. I spotted James leaning against the door frame.

"Sorry 'bout that, my mum seems to think everything is my fault." I smiled apologetically.

"Don't worry about it, it's not your fault though, he's a bad person." He smiled softly.

"I know." I nodded.

"Come on, let's go, I urm, need to stop at a shop, I gotta get my sister another Birthday card." I smiled grabbing my bag.

"Come then."

We headed back to the car and stopped at a shop where I picked up a birthday card, James picked one up and told me it was for the boys to sigh then we headed back to the Bus.

"So what's your sisters name?" James asked as we sat in the car.

"Amy." I told him.

"Cool, Amy is lucky to have a sister like you." He smiled.

"Yeah, I guess." I laughed back.

"OK, well, you can take my bunk tonight, I'll sleep on the couch." He offered.

"Thanks but I doubt I'll sleep much tonight anyway."

"Well, I'll stay with you until you do." James smiled as we pulled up at the bus.

"Thanks." I grinned.

*The next morning*

The bus left the car park the next morning while I was sleeping so when I woke up I saw the a motor way flash by the window as I sat up from the couch and looked outside. I jumped when I heard a voice call my name and I smiled when I saw Joe stood by the door.

"We'll be arriving in a hour and I need your address, the boys are wanting to drop you off at home and will not take no as an answer." He laughed, handing be a cup filled with coffee. I thanked him and gave him my address. He nodded and walked off, the boys walking in soon after.

"Hey, how are you guys?" I asked sitting up taking a sip of my coffee.

"We should be asking you that." Brad smiled sitting by me, James on my other side handing be a plate with a bacon sandwich on it.

"Yeah, you had a hell of a night, how are you?" James smiled.

"Oh, I'm fine. honestly, it's not the first time its happened, if fact I've been through worse." I sighed, I looked at the boys and they all smiled a sad smile before Connor turned the TV on, Harry Potter filling the room. My attention was taken away from the boys as I turned my attention to the TV. I love Harry Potter, the movies and the books.

"You're a fan of Harry Potter then?" James whispered in my ear, I nodded and smiled up at him.

"Seen all the film, read all the books and for my 16th my mum and dad took my sister and I to Harry Potter world, she bought me a load of stuff from there and she told me that I was crazy when I refused to wear a gryffindor hoodie because I wanted Hufflepuff instead." I told him, smiling at my memory before my smile fell. "A year later I met Danny and he set it on fire a year or so after we met. burned all my Harry Potter stuff because he said it was kids stuff." I told him, not being able to stop confessing about my past.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll tell you what, your next birthday you're 21 right?" He asked and I nodded. "Well, for your 21st, I'll take you to Universal studios where they have a bigger, more exciting Harry Potter world and I'll make sure you get every Hufflepuff product there is." He smiled and I nodded, not believing him,

"Yeah, sure!" I laughed, "Then we can spend the week at Disney land too." I muttered sarcastically but he just smiled and nodded.

"Now you're talking." He said a bit louder, coursing all the boys to look are way.

"What are you too whispering about?" Con asked smirking at James who throw a pillow at him.

"Y/N and I are planning a trip to Disney and Universal for her birthday." James smiled slinging his arm over my shoulder. "You boys in?" He asked and each of the boys all laughed and nodded.

Before I had a chance to speak up the bus came to a stop and I looked to see I was outside of my house. I laughed as I saw my mum and sister walk out of the house, looking at the bus confused. I stood up and ran to the doors, the boys following.

"Hey!" I called as the doors opened and I came face to face with my little sister.

"Y/N?" My mum asked confused as I climbed of the bus. I smiled and hugged my sister but she let out a scream making me jump a mile high moving back. I looked to see she was staring at the bus and when I turned James and Joe where stood behind me, Con, Brad and Tris walking off the bus one by one.

"Amy, these are my friends, Tris, Con, Brad and James." I smiled introducing them as they waved. James stepped forward and handed her an envelope and she just smiled in awe. She opened it an screamed as she held up two back stage passes.

"Holy crap, These are back stage passes, and a card from the vamps how did...when did...." She stuttered looking at me and I explained about the tickets and what happened with Danny and how the boys helped me out.

"Well, thank you boys for your help with Y/N, but this is not necessary, she does this all the time, she uses Danny as an excuse and..." My mum started but was interrupted by Joe's phone. He mumbled a few words and hung up, turning to me and smiling.

"The police have Danny, he had your bag on him when they picked him up, everything was still inside except you're phone and the money" He told me, I nodded and shrugged having already guessed he would find the money and phone.

"Well, it's a good job we picked this up then huh?" James pipe up handing me a box, I opened the box to see a new Samsung inside. "We sent Dean to grab it this morning before we set off, while you were asleep I set it up best I could." I looked up at them wide eyed and shook my head passing it back.

"Nope, I can't accept this, you guys have done enough." I told him but he smiled and shook his head.

"Y/N, you need a phone, besides, how are we going to plan our trip if you don't have a phone?" He smiled winking, I still shook my head and held it out to him.

"I'm not taking it back, you'll have to catch me first." He yelled running off down the street, leaving the boys and I laughing at his childishness.

"I don't run!" I yell back smiling as I picked up the phone from the box and pressed the home button, laughing at the lock screen wallpaper.

"wow, how attractive!" I laughed looking at the screen, A selfie of James, pulling a funny face.

"One of my best don't you think?" He asked running up behind me, resting his head on my shoulder.

"What the hell is going on?" My mum asked looking at James and I being so close and I looked up at her.

"They bought me a phone, were you not paying attention?" I asked rolling my eyes at her.

My mother and I never got along, my little sister was her obvious favourite, she hated when I moved away because her little cleaning slave had left the house and she had to do it all herself. I never hated my sister, in fact I felt bad for her, she wants to live a life with adventure and fun, but instead my mother shoves her in every dance class she can find.

"Enough of the sass young lady, you're not coming in my house with an attitude like that." she told me, I laughed and turned to her.

"Oh mother, I'm not coming in that house. I have a hotel booked, Amy is coming with me tonight and on Saturday I will be leaving back home." I told. she let out a huff and turned and walked off, leaving my sister and I laughing. I turned back to the boys who chuckled at my and I grinned a wide grin.

"OK, Y/N we gotta go, but I'll text you later OK?" James smiled pulling me into a hug and placing a small kiss on the top of my head.

"See you later Y/N" Con smiled hugging me next, then came Brad and Tris who both lifted me of my feet making me squeal a little.

"See you at the show." Joe laughed as I hugged him and waved at the boys as they climbed on  the bus.

"Thank you for everything boys. I owe you my life." I smiled and the boys all laughed.

"We'll just settle for your friendship." Brad called back "Well Tris, Con and I will, James might want a little more!"he finished, James smacked his head laughing, sending a wink my way and I laughed back as the doors closed and the bus drove off, the boys all stood waving at the back window.

"Well, that was....AWESOME!" My sister yelled jumping up and down holding her birthday card to her chest smiling bright.

"Yeah, they were great." I smiled, my gaze following the bus until it disappeared. "I sense the beginning of a great friendship." I smiled throwing my arm over Amy's shoulder.

"I sense the beginning of a beautiful marriage." She smirked nudging me side laughing.

"Right shut up and go get your crap. I need to check into our room." I told her pushing her towards the door. That was when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

James: How about we go out for Pizza after the show, me and you, get to know each other.

I smiled at the text and text him back a quick: I'd like that.

Before I called for a cab so when Amy came out so we could head to the hotel.

[youswiminmywater]

new perspectives on loneliness

it’s important to try to stay away from your bed sometimes. i never used to be the type to spend the entire day locked away in my room, but the past few months have been exactly that. i even rearranged all of my furniture one day just to change things up, update and organize everything in a way that made more sense. pointed my bed towards the tv. put my clothes in the closet, in my bed drawers (which is astoundingly a habit i’m still keeping up!). organized, alphabetized, and filtered through all of the stuff on my bookshelf, made better use of the space in my room. there’s still some stuff to throw out. there’s still dust accumulating. but it’s a snail’s step, a healthy move inside of a swampy situation. i don’t want this room for much longer, or at least i don’t want to be trapped in it all the time, but i’m glad i fixed it.

the other day, i went down to the cafe to get a salad and try to read a little in public, which is generally my go-to outing for when i want to get out of my house. it’s important to get out of the house sometimes. i’ve been trying to slog through “the faerie queene,” which is an old renaissance epic poem about knights and chivalry and greek mythology splashed into a weird christianity-focused landscape. i’m reading it most because i can, because i know what words like “weet” used to mean, because i’m comfortable reading spenser’s intentionally bizarre spelling and letter-swaps. just for context, here’s an example:

Nathlesse the villen sped himselfe so well, Whether through swiftnesse of his speedy beast; Or knowledge of those woods, where he did dwell, That shortly he from daunger was releast, And out of sight escaped at the least; Yet not escaped from the dew reward Of his bad deeds, which dayly he increast, Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard The heauy plague, that for such leachours is prepard.

and i’m also reading it because the stories are fun to retell in my own words, whenever i can find an ear to gab into! a lot of old literature is like that, surprising you with a fun story. so i took my massive old book with queen victoria on the cover, got my salad, and decided to sit nearby a couple that looked like they were on a date so that i could eavesdrop on them.

boy is it easy to judge strangers! from what i could tell, he was an older guy, maybe grad student age, clad in nouveau punk garb, the band shirt with sleeves rolled up to his armpits, the rolled up jean shorts, stompy boots, thick rimmed glasses, the side shave haircut that everyone seems to be sporting these days, tattoos up his arms and half way up his neck. he was talking very adamantly about his classes, particularly with a recognizable pretension about how much of an intensely emotional and intellectual endeavor it is to both READ and WRITE in the modern age. something or other about how his professors just Don’t Understand, how they’re Taking the Magic Out of It. he was very particular about the genres he liked to read, and very particular about explaining it to her with confidence, caution, and exactness. she, meanwhile, was at least a few years younger than him (in fact, i’m pretty sure she was an acquaintance of mine, knew her tangentially through people i knew in high school), and it seemed like she hadn’t been to at least a traditional college in several years. the last i remember, she worked at this kind of odd farm-fresh fast-food joint, where they make you wear blue bandannas instead of brand hats. she looked like she went to art school maybe, studied photography. she was very supportive of his opinions on reading books, or whatever, and tried her best to come up with things to share back on the subject, but it was clear she wasn’t really That Into reading. she ran with the crowd that was used to doing, parties and skateboarding and concerts, not sitting at home over a notebook.

it just seemed like the kind of pairing that didn’t have much in common, but they were still fresh and enthusiastic and willing to blow past differences and have some fun for a while. in any case, i was in true goblin form, hunched over my salad, building stories for each of them in my head, telling myself they were communicating poorly and failing to connect with each other, telling myself they’ll be over and done within a few months, maybe more if the circumstances call for it. a stupid grin slapped across my brain while i half-read about some sinful queen named “lucifera,” who embodied Vanity itself in every way, even carrying around a hand mirror just to admire herself.

this is the cafe i used to work at, and so i knew a lot of the patrons and just about all of the employees; i spotted one person, the “new girl,” also enjoying a salad off duty a few tables away from me. she had been hired shortly after i left, though the two of us had developed a little bit of camaraderie between my frequent visits. i called her bree-bree, she called me bri-bri, it was something cute and fun  between us. one of the few fond connections i have with the world outside my bedroom. 

i made my way to the door, pretended to notice her, and sat down in the seat across from her, imposing in probably a very trumpian way, though she didn’t seem to mind, wasn’t nose deep in a book like i pretended to be. we got to immediately gossiping about the couple i was just eavesdropping on, my favorite hobby, talking about dating and relationships from a safe and frankly lofty position, dragging someone into my holier-than-thou mindscape to bond with them. it’s the magic of people-watching, really, and sharing that experience with someone makes you feel so much less like a wretched lonely creep. she nodded sagely when i talked about talking but not communicating, first dates in the cafe.

she told me a story about how she was on a first date with a guy and kept asking him questions expecting him to toss the ball back into her court, but at the end of his several monologues, the only thing he was able to bring back to her was “so, any more questions for me?” i told her he was probably trying very hard to impress her, and maybe felt interrogated. like it was his time to make a splash and show her how good and smart of a boy he was! and probably terrified out of his mind. you can’t chalk everything up to male vanity. she shrugged a maybe-probably. i declined to tell her a story about some of my first dates, not wishing to mirror the guy she just described to me.

i learned that she was dating one of the other guys that worked at the cafe, who was working there that day, though the whole thing was a sort of semi-hush. she said they dated but she didn’t really talk about it. she just gazed at him over my shoulder, dreamy-eyed. how do you get a girl to look at you that way? i admired it, appreciated it. i turned around and announced to the guy “i didn’t know you two were dating!” made him blush, show him that i was Aware and not threatening anything by having an intimate salad talk with his girl right in front of him. she told me she was moving to Cleveland in two weeks, and was bad with long-distance. she didn’t seem that bothered by it, though i still sympathized, knowing by now how those relationships end, the early 20s flings that always get bashed backwards by college schedules and other necessity. 

her mentioning it gave me an opportunity to talk about vivien, for a moment. i told her i was a long-distance veteran. i forcibly showed off pictures of vivien, of the two of us together, because i was dying to show at least one person, even someone who could be barely considered a friend. i don’t know why i wanted to; maybe another opportunity to say “just so we’re clear, i’m not trying to come onto you, here’s a girl i already like!” or maybe it was a way to legitimize a connection in my life that seems to slip away more and more every day.

i offered to give her a ride, probably a minor misstep. she said she preferred walking, good exercise. i agreed, told her i wanted to ride my bike more often too. she insisted i make some desserts for her and the cafe before she had to leave, and i promised i would. left.

i had something of a panic attack that night. i don’t like calling it that, because the feeling wasn’t...well, maybe i’m just unfamiliar with panic. it was intangible. i was feeling manic, i could hear myself breathing, i wanted to get out of the house again (this was now around 11pm or so). i was feeling trapped, claustrophobic, lonely, forgotten. i went to a 24/7 gyro place to tap my foot, pick up dinner for me and my mom. wrote an obscure facebook status. sent a few oblique text messages. wanting attention but not wanting to attract it. wanting someone to care about me and show concern but feeling selfish and childish by offering out my hands.

i had a phone conversation with a friend of mine just before. my best friend, or at least someone i used to be really close with, now feeling more and more like a stranger, more like a burden, more like i destroyed something that was taking a painstakingly long time to fully implode. i was becoming less and less to her, and it showed in our conversation, and showed even more when she was telling me about other friends she was starting to hang out with more, or when she was having a conversation with her boyfriend that was so much more lively than the one she was having with me. it used to be the other way around. i sat on the phone and let my heart break, realized i was becoming alone again, and ended up at this gyro place an hour later.

it’s not that i’m particularly going to miss the life i’ve been living the past few years; i really hate feeling stuck, even if i had some great company while doing so, and shared a lot of myself with someone who has been very important to me. but trying to move on has blasted away a lot of stuff i took for granted, or didn’t realize i depended on so heavily. so i guess i had a panic attack, on both ends. i felt empty and heartbroken looking back on my past friendship; i felt worried and alone looking forward. i’m still not sure if i’m moving into anything real or not. 

maybe i’m once again too much in my own head, but sometimes i get the feeling vivien is already done with me. we don’t really have any plans when it comes to moving closer to each other; i’m not even sure what she wants for her own life sometimes. we’ve both been through our own gauntlets, and we know long-distance isn’t really something we have the energy for anymore. all i know is that we happen to have landed in the same spot, together, right now. but i don’t know if we’re both going to leave this place together, or if we’re going to be facing the same direction when we do. we’re certainly not going to stay here for much longer. i only hope she isn’t already through with me. sometimes i feel like a needy puppy, begging for her attention, putting effort into something that i maybe shouldn’t be. i truly do adore her, and we resemble each other so much; we sometimes joke about being each other’s “twin flame,” soulmates. it still feels that way. but soulmates aren’t always lovers.

i’m just preparing myself for the worst. i don’t want it to be over yet.

today i listened to an “etiquette podcast” on the way home. it’s really hardly about etiquette most of the time; it’s just this married couple that started a podcast together, likely because the wife felt left out of her husband’s podcasting career and wanted an excuse to hang out with him. they pick random topics, the wife goes into a brief “history” of the thing, and then they talk about “the best way to blank,” “when is the right time to blank.” how do i ask for a raise without coming off as bossy? what’s the best way to end a phone call? what’s the proper thing to say when i fart on the train? 

this week’s episode was about naps. the wife went into a personal yarn about how she had postpartum depression and took frequent naps that just felt Very Bad. like gigantic naps that felt too good, wasted the whole day. the husband likened it to eating ice cream when you’re starving. just the wrong medicine for the occasion. 

when i got home, i took a 6-hour nap. i was still riding the wave of sadness from the day before, though without the manic energy. just the overwhelming feeling of aloneness, having no one to share anything with anymore. being alone really makes a lot of things feel pointless, when you’re in the headspace of, i want to do things so i have something to share with people. suddenly reading feels stupid. endeavors to work out feel pointless. long naps are a brief fast-forward through something that feels like it ought to blow away at some point. and it really doesn’t, at least, not in the way you expect it to.

i woke up and checked my e-mails, my school e-mail in particular, to remind myself that i was still a student and had responsibilities beyond trying to find love and companionship to enrich my future (snort!). cracked open my textbook, a chapter about plate presentation, and got quite lost flipping between dessert possibilities. really inspiring stuff, even though the book is a little outdated:

i’m sure this is somewhat a product of my mood...but looking at these foods made me really want to dive into my work as a pastry chef. become good at something, make all these sauces and coulis and collect a bunch of chocolate shavings and such and try out some plate designs for myself, likely in very bizarre, personal ways. “here you go mom, i made dessert, and i bought a special plate to put it on!” i mean, how else is a boy to practice? it’s a relief seeing stuff like this, because the class i’m taking right now makes me believe cake decorating is the alpha and the omega of pastry learning. and i just hate cake decorating! my boss told me that some people are decorators and some people are producers, and that i’m a producer. i feel good about that role. it’s encouraging.

i’ve written pretty freely and frequently about this belief i have, that people have a built in “fail-safe” system that keeps them from tolerating a bad feeling for too long. some motivation inside of them that keeps them from stewing in depression until they disintegrate. in the past, i’ve taken opportunities like this one i’m in to go on impulsive bike rides, usually in the dead of the night. i felt the same impulse washing over me today; however, i knew that my bike tires were flat and needed a pump. this is essentially the extent of my bike-repair expertise, so if they didn’t stay inflated, i was probably done for without a real concentrated effort to fix the damn thing.

i went outside to our backyard shed to try and find the bicycle pump. no luck. and our backyard was starting to look and feel overgrown, plants poking through fences and coming up to the windows. my mom says she likes the overgrown because it grants privacy, but i hated it in that moment. i wanted to clear everything away. in lieu of finding my bike pump, i grabbed some forgotten rusty shears instead, and just started going to town on these masses of towering plants. snipping bit by bit, shoving them into mossy old yard bags, grabbing thorns and twigs barehanded in my sleepwear and clogs. just fed up, burying my feelings in the impulse.

i started to imagine, maybe this is what i need to do from now on. just focus on cleaning the house, yard work. eventually move on to working out, getting stronger arms, losing weight, eating healthier. if i’m going to be a shut-in for the rest of my life, maybe this is the secret to accepting it. just obsessing over some kind of work and never thinking about loneliness ever again, except maybe by accident late at night, in moments of stillness. it made me feel kind of like boo radley. it was a familiar place, like one that i had recognized in writers and poets, or any other person that was considered isolated, in solitude. like a retired old dad, feverishly picking up hobbies to keep himself busy. emily dickinson with her botany and gardening (did you know she had a 66-page leather-bound book of pressed plants? it’s called an herbarium). or like a robert frost type, hauling wood to a cabin, reveling in the simplicity of it. after all, it’s easier to tear weeds out of the ground than it is to make friends. maybe it’s the kind of life i need to embrace, constantly becoming better and healthier, more useful, stronger, but for nobody. building a nice home and a nice life and only sharing it with someone if i get really lucky. 

i didn’t really hang out with my dad much after my parents were divorced, and now that i’m older, and i’m realizing how badly i wanted someone to teach me how to be a guy. all the things i remember doing with him when i was younger, fishing, flying kites, swimming, are distant memories. i’m rusty. i’m gonna take my kids to do these things with nostalgia and fumble at it, because it fell out of my life a long time ago. i feel like being outside again, getting bug bites, tearing up the yard and putting it back together again...it’s a way of being a dad to myself. or i feel like my dad was supposed to teach me this stuff, like it’s a old secret, “now son, when you grow up and your life isn’t what you wanted it to be, just build a birdhouse. it’s the best remedy for depression!” 

or maybe it was just a manic episode, me out there chopping away at the bushes. a cathartic release that’ll sink back into its deep slumber again come tomorrow. it was a shift in perspective, another way of making loneliness OK, a different kind of ocean to drown in. i wouldn’t mind if it stuck around. 

i know i really don’t deserve much, i’m not exactly a very good person. but if i can find a way to turn all these feelings back in on themselves, and just focus on something...manual and productive, i think it’s a life i’d take. just needs some motivation.

[literaryfaeriecorner]

1/29/21: community, love, and... well, really nothing

link to original post

January 29th, 2021

today i was thinking about how even in the midst of really terrible shit, there's still some really amazing things that can and do happen.

i hate my job with a passion that literally no one around me can understand. back before the pandemic, teaching in the charter system that i work at gave me constant nightmares and panic attacks. i think i have mild PTSD, actually. seriously. after everything went remote, i found some degree of relief. my nightmares happen less frequently, i tend to have less panic attacks, working from home allows me more physical comfort (no one is forcing me to stand on my feet for 10 hours straight), and it's relatively easier to tweet on the job, lol. however, it's still a big point of misery for me. i feel disrespected by my superiors (i literally got cursed out the other week for a logistical mistake that wasn't even my own), my boss-boss hates me, someone leaked screenshots of an instagram post i made last summer about the state of the education system and the charter network i work for took it as some kind of personal attack and i had to answer for it (weird), and i am one of the most underpaid people in my teaching cohort. they explain this away by saying i don't "meet certain data points," and i dont do this and i neglect to do that but i do just as much work if not more than my coworkers... so. anyway, i just want to get out. i hate it. very badly. my job is one of the main causes of my depressive episodes. i'm only still there because i have rent to pay and i also don't want to leave my kids in the middle of the school year... i absolutely would if i got a new job but it would cause me a bit of agony...

anyway, even in the midst of all that negativity and depression and terribleness... i am strangely glad that i ended up there. today, after one of my most taxing classes (it's not exactly a difficult group of students to teach... i just teach them after two other back-to-back classes and by that point i'm drained and absolutely numb in the brain), two of my coworkers jumped on my zoom link to tell me about a mini scandal they happened upon yesterday.

one of my kids' parents is using her daughter's school-issued laptop to sext with some obviously-catfish internet guy behind her husband's back! they discovered this while using our school's device-monitoring program to make sure the kids weren't cheating during a practice exam. the story and screenshots and talk of next-steps were certainly all hilarious and fun and a nice reprieve from a long, tireless day of remote teaching/chasing after kids/grading terrible fucking papers/getting blamed for everything negative under the sun, but the thing i'm most grateful and feeling blessed for is... community. just sitting on a locked zoom call with two other young women talking trash, shooting the shit, gabbing, sharing scandalous information, dramatically reading corny sexts between two older people was absolutely rejuvenating. it felt like being in middle school or high school again. sitting at a table with your friends after a long morning of classes and just talking shit and hanging out and making sure that everyone was good and could make it through another afternoon of the same old tired, boring, draining, depressing shit. it felt good. and i felt grateful. i no doubt would've slipped into self-pity mode which includes scrolling twitter even though no one has anything good to say, snacking on an unholy amount of girlscout cookies, and napping for the last ten minutes of my break before going into another excruciatingly long period of teaching european history (yuck!).

the thing i hate most about the pandemic is that i am missing out on community. i miss going to bars and clubs and parties by myself and plunging into a room full of people who are also open to meeting someone new, getting into something exciting, running away from home. my favorite part of last school year was getting off of work and heading to dinner with a date, or a friend's house for drinks, or to a book signing or art and culture event. just running around nyc for as long as i could, having as much fun as i could, with as many people as i could before the clock struck 12 and i would have to get up in the morning and play the role of boring, underpaid single female middle school teacher again. now, it feels like i can never escape that role. it feels like my entire life is about being a teacher and being abused and underpaid and stupid and lame and underappreciated. i miss my communities and the identities i found within them.

that's why i was so grateful to my coworkers. for a period of 30 - 35 mins or so, i wasn't just a teacher. i was a friend, a gossip, an asshole, a bitch, a silly girl, a person. a whole person. and i hardly ever feel like a whole person anymore. the four walls of my room don't seem big enough to fit a whole person. just a teacher. just a student. just a failure. just a fuck-up.

i love love. i know they're just my coworkers but i'd be lying if i said i didn't love them. i was also thinking, today, about how people are only in our lives for seasons. and sometimes we know this. like, for example, i know that if i got a job at a new place right this moment (fingers crossed, from this blog to God's ears!!!) that i would leave and probably never hear or speak to any of my coworkers again. and i was thinking how i was ok with this. it wouldn't diminish my love for them in any way or make me feel like i need to find some way to keep them around forever... it just is what it is. i can love them and still know that we aren't meant to be together for too long. we got each other through this hellhole of a job without killing ourselves and that's enough for a lifetime, to be honest.

i was supposed to write all these thoughts way earlier but He messaged me on instagram. He replied to a post of mine talking about WandaVision and apologizing for not texting back last saturday... since this is my blog and im basically anonymous, i'm not ashamed to say that seeing his name pop up on my phone is enough to send me over the moon... especially when it's unexpected and unprompted... he's such a bozo though and i basically let him know... i am a big believer in honesty and eagerness but sometimes a little cool is needed. i brushed off his apology and let him know he was sorry as fuck all the time and then congratulated him on being the kind of person who gets to say "i was just overwhelmed because the judge fucked us over and now i'm working until midnight for the next week." that's probably weird but what can be better than having a job that you like, doing something that you love and that is DEFINITELY helping your career... that's more than what some people have... (i am some people, unfortunately, but i'm looking at getting out of being such a fucking loser)

umm.. it's 1AM now and i have another long, tireless day of being a fucking superhuman aka teacher tomorrow so i'm going to go to bed but i feel like i didn't blog right because i didn't have a clear beginning, middle, end and proper sign off and i know i'm being silly and blogs don't always have to be like that but that's how i feel... but i have to go so that's how it's gonna have to be. i just wanted to write my thoughts down and update my blog because i'm trying to keep my promises to myself in 2021. if i don't keep promises to myself... how will i get anything done?

also He just messaged me back again :) and i have to stare at the message for AT LEAST 30 mins before i can settle into sleep mode.

until next time.

[the-shield-of-infinity-writing]

30 day OTP Challenge Day Five: Kissing

Note: Fluff, possessive Loki! Slight swearing 

Words: 1115

You never should have made that bet with Natasha, you must not have been thinking clearly. If you had been you’d have slapped yourself across the face for even thinking you could do it. Two weeks, you weren’t allowed to kiss the God of Mischief or you’d have to be Natasha’s personal maid. As stubborn as you are you took the challenge and you are on day three and you can’t keep your eyes off those beautiful lips. The way they stretch so perfectly when he grins devilishly while revealing those pearly white teeth.

You were sitting on the couch while Loki was chatting with his brother Thor, you could feel the smirk plastered across Natasha’s face as she stared at you. You briefly felt something burning in the back of your mind coaxing you to go and smash your face against his. You should have known better than to tell Loki about the bet, because now he was playing along with you. His lips would brush your ear in the way that made you shiver. His voice would be smoother and forced you to watch the perfect shade of pink muscle move as he spoke.

You were itching to kiss him, you couldn’t stay in a room that had both Natasha and Loki. You knew they would mess with you so you tried to keep your eyes somewhere other than the God. You kept your mind somewhere else like right now you were trying to read a book, but your eyes danced over to the God. Growling at yourself for your weakness, you refuse to go down like this as you stood up. Both Natasha and Loki shot their gaze as you when you stormed towards the elevator. You need to train, or find someone else to bug or you’d end up tackling your lover.

Honestly you don’t know how you ended up on the two super-soldiers’ floor, yet here you were stepping off looking around. “Steve? Bucky?” You called before noticing they were watching a movie. “Hey.” Steve called looking over to you with a smile on his face as Bucky waved never taking his eyes off the screen. “Mind if I stay and watch the movie with you two?” You asked. “Sure, if you want.” Steve said gesturing to the chair because the couch could barely hold the two soldiers making you giggle softly.

You took a seat on the chair before pulling your legs under your butt as you watched the screen. “So what brings you here?” Steve said softly as Bucky glared over to you both for a moment. You playfully winked at Bucky who snorted before turning his attention back to the horror movie that was playing. “Oh, I am doing a bet with Natasha.” You said as Steve rolled his eyes. “Why? What is it?” He asked quirking an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not allowed to kiss Loki for two weeks.” You said softly as Steve chuckled. “What day are you on?” He asked. “Three.” You groaned softly.

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Bucky comments glancing over to you. “Fuck off Barnes.” You huff. “Language.” Steve said in a stern tone making both you and Bucky go quiet for a moment. “But why don’t you get him to kiss you first?” Bucky asked as you looked at him confused. “Natalie said you couldn’t kiss him first. She never said he couldn’t kiss you first.” He shrugs as your eyes widened. “Oh my goodness! Why didn’t I think of that?” You asked more to yourself. “Because you’re stupid and make bets with Natalie.” Bucky smirks as you flip him off.

“I don’t know why I try with you kids anymore.” Steve huffs looking back to the Television. “Sorry Grandpa are we too rowdy for you?” You asked playfully earning you a glare from the man of America. “Always a comedian.” Steve mumbles as you giggle softly. “See if I go easy on you the next time we train. I’ll show you a grandpa.” He makes a face that makes even Bucky laugh. Your fun time with the boys was cut short when the elevator opened to reveal a scowling Loki. “Uh-oh. You’re in trouble.” Bucky whispered turning his gaze away from the fuming God.

You were about to speak when his hand gripped your wrist and pulled you to your feet as he shot his heated gaze to the two soldiers who looked back to the TV. “Loki–” You started when he started dragging you towards the elevator. “I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.” You called before the doors slid shut behind the two of you. You sent Loki a glare of your own as you tried to jerk your hand away from his when suddenly you were pressed against the wall of the elevator. You gasped at the quick action before moaning softly feeling his lips brushing over your pulse point.

You shuddered biting your lower lip hard enough to taste iron. “Mine.” He whispered possessively when his fingers entangled into your hair. “Y-Yours.” You resorted back when he pressed his lips against yours in a hungry kiss that left you breathless the moment your lips touched. Everything in your body felt on fire as he pulled you closer to his body almost trying to absorb you into his skin. “Forget the cursed bet.” He growled angrily. “I’ll be damned if I don’t have you.” He said cupping your face.

“I guess you’re as bad as me.” You grin at him before his eyes darken when a smirk dances across his lips. “Oh my darling, you haven’t seen me bad.” He said as his teeth grazed your chin when the door to your apartment opened. “Were you jealous of Steve and Bucky?” You asked testing waters when he growled nipping harshly at the junction between your throat and chin. You squeak softly before your face heated up. “Careful with your words darling. They are a weapon sharper than a dagger.” He said when he kisses you once more.

You couldn’t think anymore when you looked into his eyes that threatened to consume you when he finally led you out of the elevator and onto the couch. “What about Natasha? I am not being her maid of a week.” You huffed when he placed a finger over your lips. “It doesn’t count if I kiss you first. I will inform her that I caved into my desires first. I mean, you are ungodly beautiful. I’m surprised we lasted three days.” He smirks making you chuckle before you pulled him down into a hug. “No more bets like that. I’ll die.” You comment. “As will I my darling.” He grins happily.

Tag List: @chameerah @aravensdaisies @gab-pas-arm @deluxevapor @tillielynn16 @queenviolet02 @juggernaut-jones @anotherebel @mariadoghorses @gillibean9 @ididntasktogetmadedidi @hipleasedontthankyou

[fangirlinsweden]

Noticing ~ Part 6

Part 6 ~ Grey skies, Patronus and peptalk (June)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: Swearing, frustrating Steve, kind of angsty sometimes.

Wordcount: About 2000 words

Summary:  Y/N is in love with Steve, but she is afraid to tell him. So she tries to show him by using Cheesy Pickup lines. Will he ever notice her?

A/N: This is written for @buckysmischief​  Gab’ s 1k writing challenge. This takes place after Endgame, But Steve did not leave the future. Nat and Tony are still alive.

Almost all pickup-lines are lines I have found on the internet. Some I have adjusted a bit to fit the storyline more.

The morning after Tony's party Steve, Bucky and Sam had been called away on a mission. You had hoped to get some clarity in what Steve had meant with what he had said, but when you had gotten out of your dress and washed off the make-up he had already left. That was two weeks ago now. You had been away on a couple of missions during the time, but it had been nothing but training and being home for the last few days. Today was a grey and rainy day so after training, you had retreated to the window seat in the library reading one of your favourite books for probably the hundredth time. After an hour you started to feel sleepy so you closed your eyes for a short while. You fell asleep instantly and was woken up an hour later when someone was carefully nudging you awake. “Sweetheart,” you heard Steve's voice. You thought it was a dream because if you were honest with yourself you had dreamed about Steve almost every night for the last two weeks. But when you opened your eyes you looked up in Steve's blue eyes.  “No wonder the sky is grey today,” you mumbled. “Why?” Steve asked and you smiled. “All the blue is in your eyes,” you answered before you pressed a kiss to his cheek. Steve started to laugh. “I have missed you, Sweetheart,” he said and gave you a hug. You hugged him back close.  “I missed you too,” you said against his neck. Steve realised you and looked down on your book. “Are you reading that book again?” he grinned at you. “Hey, it’s one of my favourites,” you crossed your arms, “Maybe it’s time that I read it,” Steve lifted the book and read the back of the cover.  “I think it is,” you smiled at him and he nodded. “In fact, you can take it now.” Steve smiled and took the book. It was first then you noticed that he was still in his stealth suit.  “When did you get back?” you asked and stood up.  “About ten minutes ago,” Steve scratched the back of his neck.  “Go take a shower and get some sleep,” you ordered him. “Then we can catch up.” Steve nodded and gave you one last hug before he left the library. You looked after him because well, that ass in that suit was something worth looking at. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was time for another Harry Potter movie night. This time Tony had decided that you should look at three movies. You were almost giddy. When you came into the room every place was taken, except the place next to Steve, well between Steve and Bucky again. Bucky had a shit-eating grin on again and Steve patted the seat between them. You took your blanket and walked over to them. The blanket was the reason you were last. You had been cold all day and you figured that you wanted to be cosy during the movie. Steve smiled at you when you sat down between the two soldiers. Bucky made it so that it once again was cramped in the couch. Steve put his arm around you and pulled you close to him. So once again you cuddled up next to him. Tony started the movie and you could see that some of your team members were looking at Steve and you during the first movie. When you had watched the first movie for the night, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Tony declared a 10 minutes break. You looked upon Steve and knew exactly which Harry Potter themed Pick up line you would use. Steve looked down on you and that was when you said it. “If I were to produce a Protanus,” you bit your lower lip before you continued. “You’d be my happy thought.” Steve laughed and you looked around to see that Tony, Pepper, Nat, Clint and Bucky were looking at you. It was kind of awkward so you stood up and left the room. After going to the bathroom to splash some water in your face you went to the kitchen to get a water bottle. Nat and Wanda come in.  “What is going on?” you ask and Nat lifts an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Wanda tilts her head to the side. “I feel like any moment that I am near Steve, then half the team is looking at me,” you admit and look down at the floor. “Maybe I should just stop with this flirting with Steve. Try and get over him.” “NO!” Nat almost yells. She was not usually a person that yelled.  “I mean, don’t do that,” Nat said and looked at Wanda. “I am so sure that Steve likes you too,” Wanda says and puts an arm over your shoulder. “Don’t give up yet.” You look at Nat and there is something with her. “Okay, not yet,” You agree and together you leave the kitchen. Steve was waiting already on the couch and when you came into the room he held up your blanket so you could get under it again. He also drapes part of the blanket over himself. “Is this okay?” he asks and nods to the blanket. “Yes,” you say and cuddle into his side as he places his arm around your shoulders. Tony starts the next move which is Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. You smile as the movie starts, ignoring that once again some of the members of the team are watching you. You look up and see that Steve is completely concentrated on the movie. 

The movie night ends when you had finished watching Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Three Harry Potter movies on one night were just your kind of night. Everyone was tired and wanted to go to bed. But you needed to know what Steve though. You are almost jumping on the spot, but in the end, you can’t hold it in. “So, what did you think?” you look up at Steve. He laughs and the butterflies in your stomach make somersaults. His laugh must be one of the best sounds in the world. “I loved the movies,” Steve admits and your smile even brighter. “I like a world where there are dragons, unicorns and witches.” You dance around on the spot. “I knew it,” you giggle and throw your arms up. Steve puts his arm around your shoulder and together you walk towards your rooms. Outside Steve’s door, you stop and talk for a bit. And when Steve looks down on you and smiles, you knew that you just had to say one last pick-up line for the night. “Your smile is like Expelliarmus. Simple, but disarming,” you wink and with that, you leave him standing outside his door. You hear him chuckle before he goes into his room. You are tired so you yawn and go to bed the minute you get into your room. That night you dream about Steve and you surrounded by dragons and unicorns. It makes you smile. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A couple of days later you walked into the gym and Steve was hitting a punching bag. There was something with him that just felt off. Bucky tried to talk to him, and even though you did not hear what Steve said you understood that it was not something nice. Bucky lifted his hands and walked away. He walked up to you. “Hey, I would give Steve some space today,”  Buck said and rubbed a hand over his forehead. You nodded and went over to the treadmill to start your training. Just because Steve was having a bad day, did not mean that you would not get your training in. You put your headphones in your ears and started to run. It was only you and Steve in the room. You heard when Steve breaks the punching bag, but you ignored it and continued to run. If Steve wanted to talk he knew where you were. After a while, Steve's beating continued and you knew that he had changed the punching bag. After running 20 minutes you walked off the treadmill to lift some weights. You walked over to your water bottle and Steve came over to you. “Hey,” you said and smiled at him.  “Hey, Sweetheart,” Steve responded and took a sip from his water bottle. He looked beat, but you did not really know what to say. You bit your bottom lip. “Steve, is something wrong?” you asked and he turned his whole body towards you. It was as he was trying to figure out what to say. “It is clear that something is not okay.” You said and placed a hand on his arm. He sighs and sits down. “I just..” he started and you smiled encouragingly to him. “I just feel like a fake.” “How?” you asked and tilted your head to the side.  “Like I am not supposed to be here,” Steve said and tilted his head down. He was looking down on his taped hands. “Like they chose the wrong man to be Captain America.” You almost laugh but managed to hold it in. You sit down in front of him on the floor. “Steve, look at me,” you say and he listens. “You were not the wrong man. You were just the right man. You are still the right man. I don’t know much about the science behind the serum, but I know that enough to know that the serum increases all the traits in the man that gets them.” Steve’s attention is all on you and you place a hand on his cheek. “Steve, you were already an amazing man before the serum. You were the kind of man that the world would have been proud to have as a hero and now all of that is just amplified.” Neither of you notices Bucky and Sam standing in the opening to the gym. “Before the serum, you were kind, cute, hot, honest, a good man and a fantastic friend. The list was long. After the serum everything about you is super. Now you are a super soldier that is also super strong, super kind, super cute, super honest, a super good man and a super fantastic friend. The list is equally long. And anyone who knows you knows what a fantastic and amazing man you are. We are lucky to have you as our leader.” Steve smiled at her.  “Come on,” you said and stood up and handed him your hand. “Let’s sparr and get you out of this funk.” Steve stood up and pulled you into a hug.  “Thank you, Sweetheart,” Steve said into your head. “I needed to hear that.” “I was just saying the truth,” You say and smile. Together you walked over to the mats. 

In the door to the gym were Sam and Bucky. The latter had a big grin on his face. “I want in on the bet,” was all Sam had to say to the scene he just witnessed.  “When do you think?” Bucky wondered. Sam looked over to the mats where Y/N was sparring with Steve. “If he did not get her feelings from that peptalk then I think this is pretty much screwed,” Sam sighed. “So I have to say the end of December when it’s almost too late.” Bucky understood what Sam was saying. Let’s hope Steve sees what is right in front of him before then. They watched the two of them train for a while before they left them alone, not that Y/N or Steve had noticed them. They had been too occupied with each other. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Noticing Taglist: @jessyballet​

Taglist is open

[hihiyas]

Little of Your Love (Enjonine Fake Relationship AU)

Alternate Title:  5 Times Enjolras and Éponine pretended to be a couple (+1 time they did not have to)

For @textsfromumbridge on the occasion of her birthday last month. (I’m so late, sorry babe!)

Thanks to @lilyismilesaway, @astoryinred, and @kylorenvevo for letting me pick their brains while I wrote this!

Also posted in: AO3 & FF.NET

1. Enjolras

He blamed rom-coms and heteronormativity, to be honest. Why couldn’t two people of different genders hang out without people just assuming something was going on? So what if they were usually seen together? They were friends, of a sort. It just so happened that they inhabited intersecting friend groups, had some similar interests, and therefore spent a lot of time together.

And besides, he had Patria to pour his passions into, and she, well. Isn’t she still crushing on Pontmercy?

Seriously, he wouldn’t even be thinking about relationships if not for the incident with that chit who tried to flirt with him the other day.

He had been sitting alone at a jam-packed Cafe Musain, typing up a scathing response to an inane article about Syrian refugees. He was on a roll too, when someone sits on the opposite side of his table.

“Hi, Gab-”

“Enjolras. I go by Enjolras,” he interrupted.

“Oh! Sorry, Enjolras then. What are you working on?”

“It’s a rebuttal on this stupid op-ed about the Syrian refugee crisis,” he began to type again, missing the glazed look on the girl’s face.

“That’s, er, interesting?”

“Would you like to know more about the subject? We’re having a talk tomorrow at the student council lounge on how we can mobilize the student body to help the refugees. We even invited a resource person coming from Médecins Sans Frontières,” he says, finally tearing his eyes from his laptop to look her in the face.

“Oh, that’s nice. Are you also working on our class assignment in Contemporary History? Do you want to maybe work together?” she asked. She shyly tucked her hair behind an ear and leaned towards him.

He pulled back immediately. “Sorry, uh, I’m waiting for someone right now, uh, pardon, what was your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Marg-”

“Éponine! Here!” he loudly waved over the olive-skinned girl, who was holding a tray and an amused look.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“This is a classmate of mine, Margaux,” he said, nodding to the smitten girl who was occupying his table and pleading with his eyes for Éponine to intercede.

So she did. By sitting on his lap.

That was not what Enjolras had in mind. At all.

(But then again, her lithe figure on his lap wasn’t that bad? He found the sensation more pleasant than disconcerting. Which was something to consult with Combeferre once he got here.)

“Actually, it’s Margaret,” his classmate corrected. She looked sheepish at the casual way Éponine lounged and his reddening cheeks. “I didn’t know you were with Éponine. I’m sorry for bothering you,” the girl squeaked and bade them a hasty goodbye.

The two observed the girl as she all but ran away from the Musain. A beat later, Éponine slid off his lap and sat on the vacated chair.

“…Did you just use me to scare off your fangirl?”

“I’ll buy you lunch everyday for a week if you promise not to tell the guys.”

“Deal.”

2. Éponine

“Did he break into hives?” Cosette wondered after Éponine finished talking. They had been spending Tuesday afternoon working on their respective homework when she had innocuously inquired, “So, what’s new with you?”

Obviously, Éponine’s “I sat on Enjolras’ lap and survived” quip warranted a longer explanation. Bored with school work, she complied and launched a retelling of her weirdest interaction yet with the so-called Marble Man. It was a welcome respite from math equations.

“He’s not exactly allergic to other humans, ya know.”

“True, he did shake my hands the day Marius introduced him to me.” A beat later, Cosette had a different question. “Did he, you know…” she trailed off and made a vaguely vulgar hand gesture.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! WHAT?? NO!” Éponine couldn’t help yelp out loud at the suggestion.

“So why is he bribing you with food?”

“Because he’s embarrassed about needing help with his admirers? I dunno. I’m just happy to get free food,” she shrugged.

Cosette tilted her head, considering her friend’s reasoning. It was a fact that Enjolras was one of the more popular students in their university. He was handsome, smart, and charming. Usually unflappable too, except when flirted at, apparently.

The subject dropped, the two roommates continued working on their school work. They read and wrote in silence, only to be interrupted again when Marius Pontmercy came knocking on their door.

“Oh, hi Babe!” greeted Cosette as she let him in.

He smiled and chastely kissed his girlfriend on the cheek. “Hey, Babe. Missed you today. Done with your paper?”

Cosette’s dark blonde ponytail swished as she shook her hair. “Not yet,” she replied as she walked back to their dining area.

“Hey, ‘Ponine!” Marius nodded to the girl frowning at her book.

She barely waved in reply, engrossed with her homework but failing to figure it out. Math really wasn’t her forte.

He approached the dining table where the two had camped out with their books and laptops. “Anyway, I dropped by to ask you for a huge favor. Are you doing anything on Friday?”

“What’s happening on Friday? Are you bailing out on our date?” Cosette frowned.

“No! But, see, my cousin Theodule is coming to town for a few days. I kind of promised Grandfather I’d take care of him.”

“So you’re dumping your cousin on me,” Éponine guessed as she balled up another scratch paper.

“Not exactly? He kind of invited himself to our dinner. I was thinking maybe you could come with us so he’s not a third wheel? And maybe talk to him a little?”

Éponine didn’t even look up to shoot him down.“Sorry, busy that night.”

“I’m buying!” bargained Marius. “Just spend two hours with us. And I know you don’t have a shift on Friday at the Corinthe. I asked ‘Chetta.”

“Still busy.”

“Come on, ‘Ponine! Pleeease?”

“Can’t. Have prior plans before you arrived.”

“With??”

“I already have a date, okay!” she blurted the first excuse she could think of.

“With whom?” Marius asked, his tone a little too incredulous that Éponine was a bit offended. She’s not completely undateable, is she?

“She’s going out with Enjolras!” Cosette answered, saving Éponine the trouble of conjuring an imaginary boyfriend. At least, Enjolras was a live, human boy and was an actual friend (!) of Éponine. It’s just that the boyfriend part that was laughably untrue.

At least it wasn’t Montparnasse, right?

Marius, mind blown by Cosette’s declaration, just went, “Whaaaa?”

Éponine thought fast, “It’s new, okay? Barely started. So shut up about it.”

“Huh, and I thought it was just rumors about you guys.”

Rumors? Already? Éponine internally groaned. You sit on a guys lap once…

Marius continued, “I guess you really like him then, huh? Well, I’m happy for you guys! Do I get to do the shovel talk?”

“Babe, that’s so sexist and demeaning. And also: no,” Cosette interjected.

“Sorry. I’m just so excited for Éponine and Enjolras! It’s not an obvious pairing but I think you two would be good together.”

Éponine knitted her brows. “Really?”

“Well, you’re both passionate and outspoken, and when you care about something, you both show it. I guess all that tension when you two argue at the Amis’ meetings is actually attraction, huh?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” she said before suggesting that maybe he could introduce Theodule to some of the more sociable Amis and ask them to distract his cousin on Friday instead.

Placated and distracted by a new idea with what to do with his cousin, Marius finally left her alone so she could continue with Trigonometry.

(Not that she could get his words out of her head long enough to concentrate.

Argh. Stupid Marius!)

3. Enjolras

By the end of the second week after the lap-sitting incident, the entire campus knew about it. Barely a month after that day, everyone knew that Enjolras was off-limits. What people took as fact and what was true, however, were two different things.

Not that Enjolras was about to clarify the nature of his relationship with one Éponine Thenardier. To his credit, he did attempt to, when Bossuet teased him about it. His friend just smirked and said, “Good friends? Uh huh, is that what you’re calling it now?”

Nevertheless, he figured it was better not to comment about it anymore. For one, it was embarrassing to even have to publicly dispel rumors about his personal life. Why did people care so much about who he dated? He didn’t understand it.

Secondly, he also thought that people might think badly about Éponine if he said it anything at this point. People might think she was a liar or a wanton slut who was trying to ensnare him or something. Like she wasn’t a smart, beautiful, independent woman who could date whoever she cared to.

Thirdly, it didn’t hurt that people had started to back off from flirting with him. He had never felt comfortable with it (and the accompanying fuss of turning down dates and dashing hopes) so it was such a relief not to have that kind of attention on him. He even got more things done now that people thought he’s dating Éponine.Prospective admirers apparently didn’t want to face his pseudo girlfriend’s infamous temper if they tried to catch his eye.

Speaking of her temper, he wondered why she hadn’t dispelled the rumors herself. What could she possibly benefit from effectively letting him using her as a ruse? Did she not care that people had assumed wrong about their friendship? In any case, he felt gratitude for her playing along and some guilt for reaping all the rewards of their fake relationship that he ended up treating her with food whenever they were together.

Like now.

They sat together in the usual Amis table at the cafe on a quiet Friday afternoon. He is reviewing his notes as he waited for Feuilly with their newly printed protest flyers while Éponine was working on equations Combeferre had left her as tutorial material. They shared a plateful of cookies as they worked silently on their separate projects. It was nice to just sit with someone and not talk, once in awhile. It’s peaceful.

Of course, that’s when Courfeyrac decided to disrupt the quiet.

“HELLO, LOVEBIRDS!”

Enjolras rolled his eyes at the epithet while Éponine, startled from her work, made a disgruntled face. “Seriously, Courfeyrac?”

“Please, you guys love me. Well, not in the way you two looooove each other, but you do,” he winked.

“No we don’t,” the couple in question declared in unison.

“Too soon?”

Enjolras, who had flushed red at the teasing, flatly said, “You’re hopeless.”

His friend childishly stuck his tongue out in reply. “Anyway, I’m here because you two suck at answering your phones. Are you going  tomorrow night or what?”

“To what again?” Éponine asked.

“The fundraiser dinner with my fraternity? Everybody else is busy but I need at least two other people to go with me. There’s a buffet and an open bar,” enticed Courfeyrac.

The two glanced at each other with identical expressions of distaste. A beat later, they replied, “Sorry, date night.”

“Come on, there will be lots of alumni coming and you can start building connections for law school, Enjolras!”

He considered this until he remembered something. “Does this mean Felix Tholomyes is going to be there? Isn’t that scumbag your fraternity’s alumni president?”

“Yes, but-”

He shook his head. “Then, no. I might just start a fight and ruin my good suit.”

“And besides, I can’t afford your fancy fundraiser tickets, Courfeyrac,” added Éponine.

“Enjolras can spring for you! Come on, guys, you’re my only hope. Everybody else won’t go with me! Cosette said she’s protesting her bio-dad’s presence, so of course, Marius won’t go too. Bossuet is leaving for a weekend trip with Joly and ‘Chetta tonight. Bahorel just laughed at my face,” their friend pleaded and pouted.

“Sorry, you’re on your own,” Éponine shrugged.

“Hmp, I need better friends,” Courfeyrac groused. He tried again to appeal to Enjolras but the other man shot him down. Desperate for someone, anyone really, to come with him to the fundraiser, he left the two to pester classmates and friends from his other school organizations.

Enjolras sighed and massaged his temples as Courfeyrac walked out while rapidly firing text messages. Sometimes, his friend’s exuberance gave him headaches. “Argh, sorry about that.”

Éponine merely rolled her eyes. “We both wanted an excuse. It’ll be alright. Courf’s just a  drama queen.”

“Did you have plans tomorrow?”

“Catching up on Game of Thrones.”

“But it’s such a problematic series!”

They ended up good-naturedly arguing all afternoon until Feuilly showed up.

4. Éponine

It was a slow night at the Corinthe, a fact that Éponine was grateful for. Sure, there were fewer tips, but a smaller crowd meant she won’t be dead tired for her 9 AM class the next day. She wiped down the bar for the nth time and glanced at the clock. Only 30 minutes left before she could go home and collapse on her bed.

The downside to a relatively quiet shift, however, was that it left Éponine alone enough for her mind to wander. And there was one blond pre-law student that seemed to occupy her thoughts more and more these days.

Enjolras. It was funny how their friendship had steadily become closer due to the misconception that they were together romantically. At first, it had been a quick excuse to get away from undesirable social engagements. By unspoken agreement, they had maintained the ruse in public: sitting next to each other all the time, eating meals together at least twice a week, and even texting each other their daily schedules just in case one of them needed to cover for the other. At this point, Éponine figured that if not for the lack of the more physical aspects of a romantic relationship, they were practically dating for real.

“Except, not really, Éponine. Don’t forget,” she muttered.

But sometimes, Enjolras made it hard to remember how this was all pretend. Once in awhile, he would say or do something really sweet, like casually draping his coat over her shoulders just because she felt a little chilly or walking her back to her apartment after a shift. Or he’d gaze at her with such an intensity that it took her breath away. Sometimes, Éponine could swear he really did like her. Maybe.

This whole situation was becoming even more confusing than trigonometric identities.

“So, you've moved on to the next one, huh?” a bitter voice derailed her train of thought.

“‘Parnasse.”

The dark-haired man nodded and ordered his usual, a rum and coke. “Heard you have a new boy, Enjolras, was it? Didn’t think you liked blonds.”

She turned her back on him as she fixed his drink. “What’s it to you?”

Montparnasse snorted inelegantly. “Come on, ‘Ponine. You used to make fun of him and his friends. Called them idealistic idiots, remember? And now you’re all over their leader? Why, is it because he’s fucking rich, is that it? You’re not so different from your old man.”

Éponine ignored the jab at her. “He might be an idealistic idiot but at least he actually tries to affect change. At least they’re all doing some good.”

“Wow, look at you defending his honor! You really like that Enjolras, huh? Wonder how you’d still like him if I cut Blondie’s pretty face.”

She glared and practically growled, “You even breathe wrong in his direction, I swear, ‘Parnasse, I’ll make you regret it.”

He stated, before laughing out loud. “Oh, you sweet little girl. I can’t believe I’ve seen the day.”

“What?” she demanded.

“You’re in love! Ha, you’re actually in love with this guy! That’s so funny.”

Montparnasse downed his drink and left a twenty to a stunned Éponine.

5. Enjolras

If the story of Enjolras and Éponine being a couple had spread like wildfire on campus, the rumor that they had broken up could be described as a flash flood. Devastating and utterly unexpected.

Hell, even Enjolras was caught unawares.

He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly happened but Éponine started to avoid him. Oh, she was still quick to laugh and talk to him when their friends are around, but the moment they were gone, she would make excuses and leave him as soon as humanly possible. She’d claim school work, or her job at the Corinthe for her suddenly very busy schedule.

Gone too were the emoji-filled text messages from her. It used to annoy him, the way she’d use emojis as punctuation. But now that all he got were late, sporadic and terse responses, he missed them.

He missed her.

Confused and upset, he showed up at Combeferre’s apartment.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

“I think my fake girlfriend is ghosting me and I have no idea why.”

His best friend blinked slowly, before opening his door wide open. “I understood all those words individually, but you made no sense. At all.”

He lied down on Combeferre’s couch, clutching a throw pillow, and rambled for an hour. How Éponine had rescued him from a classmate’s flirtation and how that had somehow snowballed into a rumor that they were actually dating. How they both had taken advantage of the rumor to get out of social engagements, and how that joke turned their friendship deeper. Until two weeks ago.

“I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding to be alone with me like she can’t stand to be near me. I don’t understand at all! Did I do anything wrong? I cannot figure it out,” Enjolras said.

Combeferre rubbed his temple, and replied,“Seems to me that you two need to talk.”

“How does one talk to somebody who’s running away from you the moment she sees you though?”

“You got me there. I do have one question though.”

“What is it?”

“Is she really your fake girlfriend though? Because you two looked like the real thing to me.”

Enjolras distracted himself from the Éponine Situation. There was too much to do, after all than to pine for someone who hated him. Or something. Did she really hate him? Was he just overreacting because of his apparent feelings? He still didn’t know what to think about Éponine’s strange disappearing act.

In any case, there was the refugee fundraising to do. All the Amis were participating: Bahorel had his bake sale, Feuilly and Grantaire had a temporary tattoo and face paint booth, Joly and Bossuet manned a juice bar, and Jehan had his palm reading sessions. And the Amis’ triumvirate of leaders?

A stupid kissing booth.

It was, of course, Courfeyrac’s idea, but all three of them were to take 2-hour shifts at the booth. As head of the club (and mostly to get it over with), Enjolras went first. He was at the one hour mark of his shift and already the line of giggling girls and boys were snaking around the quad.

He sighed and thought about the 100 plus dollars he had already made kissing random strangers on the cheek. Even the other Amis joined in and fell in line to get a kiss from their Chief for a laugh. At least this endeavor was going to raise them a tidy sum.

“A dollar for a kiss?” A raspy voice interrupted his thoughts.

He blinked. Éponine Thenardier appeared before him like a vision in a black tee and ripped jeans. He cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s for a good cause.”

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” she observed.

“But of course, I’m exactly the type who would enjoy this,” he deadpanned.

“Close your eyes and think of the refugees, I guess,” she quipped.

"Glad you’re laughing it all up at my expense.”

“It’s been fun,” she shrugged before plopping a crumpled fiver on the booth table and grabbing Enjolras by the hair.

He gasped and closed his eyes, all senses tingling at the pressure of Éponine’s mouth on his. She started to pull back but he chased her lips with a kiss of his own and held her close. He dimly heard a thrilled “aww!” and a chorus of disappointed noises in the background, but he couldn’t care less. The world has shrunk into this moment, into this kiss.

If not for the need for air, Enjolras thought he could stay there kissing Éponine forever. Alas, reality intruded and left them both breathing quite heavily.

“Um, hello,” he shyly greeted, cheeks pink and a smile blossoming on his lips.

“Damn, where did you learn to kiss like that?” the girl on his arms blurted out.

“I– That’s the first time I really kissed anyone?”

Éponine shot him an incredulous look, then flipped the On-Duty sign behind him.

“Sorry, guys, my boyfriend and I have to discuss something,” she announced to the line of gawking students, before motioning for Enjolras to follow her.

(+1. Éponine)

Éponine’s words rang inside her head as she and Enjolras walked away from the quadrangle to the Amis’ club room. Her boyfriend, she had called him. Not quite true, was It?

Except, it wasn’t exactly a lie either.

“Are you okay? You got me worried for the past few days,” he said the moment they reached the empty club room.

“Yes- Well, no. Not exactly,” she hesitated. See, I think I’m in love with you, she did not say.

“Anything I can do to help?”

This was the problem with falling in love with this man, wasn’t it? Here she was, ignoring and probably confusing the hell out of him, and still, he wanted to help her. “You’re entirely too good to be true,” she whispered.

“I’m not,” he protested. “If I was, you wouldn’t have spent two weeks avoiding me whenever possible. Which, by the way, did I do anything wrong?” he asked, earnest concern written plainly on his handsome face.

She looked down at her hands and shook her head. “No, no. It’s all me. I’m sorry I made you think you did something wrong. I had something I needed to figure out. You, you were perfect. Too perfect, even.”

“Oh.” He was silent for a while, obviously repeating her words in his head and trying to parse her meaning. “What do you mean, ‘too perfect?’” He sighed, “I swear if you’re gonna compare me to some Greek god–”

“No, no!” she interrupted. Éponine knew how much he hated those allusions about being cut from marble or being called ‘Apollo’ by Grantaire. “It’s just that you played your part so perfectly, I had to get away before I thought this was all real.”

Enjolras looked stunned at her admission. Oh, she knew this was a bad idea. That kiss, though. It made her hope. It made her think she wasn’t the only one in this, but, oh, she was reading into the situation again, wasn’t she?

“Shit, um, forget I said anything. I don’t want to lose our friendship, okay? We can, I dunno, stage a breakup and we’ll tell people we decided to just be friends. And we’ll never ever talk about this, okay?”

Enjolras blinked, and she sighed, heart breaking neatly in half. Great, she broke his brain.

“Okay, I’ll go now. Tomorrow, we can pretend this never happened, okay? Okay,” Éponine said. She turned around, willing her shoulders not to shake as she tried and failed to contain her tears. Damn, her rep’s all ruined now if someone saw her cry.

“W-wait,” he stammered, catching her arm and neatly spinning her into his embrace. “Please, don’t go again. You drove me crazy the last time you ran away.”

It was Éponine’s turn to be stunned silent by Enjolras’ admission. She hid her face, sobbing into her hands, while he spoke, running his hand over her tumbled hair.

“In all honesty, I don’t even know when it stopped feeling like we were just pretending. And then you started to pull away, and I didn’t know what I did wrong. I thought, did I go too far? Did this pretend relationship had gone too far?And I thought, why didn’t you tell me? And I felt so guilty that I’ve driven one of my best friends away. And then you just appeared and you kissed me and, God, Éponine, I don’t want to be just friends. And I’m so sick of playing pretend.” All his jumbled thoughts came tumbling down from his lips, and he could only hope she would understand what he was trying to say. He gently pulled her hands away from her face and dabbed her tears away with his handkerchief. “Please don’t cry, Éponine. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you, please stop crying.”

The declaration just made her cry louder as she embraced him. After a few minutes, her tears stopped and she hiccuped into his shoulder. “We’re a couple of morons, aren’t we?”

“But a couple, right?” he asked, half in hope, and half-jokingly as he continued to stroke her hair.

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed.

They remained embracing for a long time.

[ladypepperofdavenshire]

Haddock half expected Sir Drexel to waltz over and attack Miss Marlowe and himself after the spurned lover had witnessed the new couple walking down the high road from the Haddock Estate.

Sir Drexel instead pulled down his hat and quickened his pace.  He positively radiated ire.  It had been two months since Haddock had started “courting” Miss Marlowe.  Tongues began wagging just days after Miss Marlowe and Haddock formulated their plan and put it into action, spreading gossip not quite as scathing as when the man involved had been Sir Drexel, but still questionable nevertheless.  Haddock and Miss Marlowe chose not to include Mrs. Haddock in on their scheme, hoping to keep their cards close to their chests to avoid any risk of their real motives leaking out from the elder woman’s loose tongue to her staff.  She was, however, delighted about the turn of events and praised Miss Marlowe with having chosen her son.  This embarrassed Haddock more than anything, but seemed to amuse Miss Marlowe in watching him endure a loving mother’s effusive praise.

A few changes were made to Haddock’s daily routine, mainly being that he was required (if not explicitly, implicitly) to tag along with Mrs. Haddock and Miss Marlowe when the latter came over to the manor to keep the elder woman company.  This at first meant that he had to endure sitting with the two as they discussed banal topics of the latest bits of gossip Miss Marlowe brought to deliver to Mrs. Haddock, along with twittering over the romance books that Mrs. Haddock loaned out to Miss Marlowe and their continual giggling over certain plot points.  Haddock would have much preferred throwing open the balcony window and hurling himself out after enduring a day of this.  He instead proposed that they convene in the library where he pulled up three chairs and let the women run their mouths while he sunk his consciousness into a dusty tome.

Today had been chillier than normal, so Haddock had started a fire before Miss Marlowe arrived at the manor.  He carried his mother to the library and gently seated her in her favorite wingback chair directly in front of the fireplace.  Haddock went to retrieve a book she had been reading when Mrs. Haddock’s cheerful voice stopped him:

“That won’t be necessary, Malcolm. I wanted to talk with you before Miss Marlowe arrives.”

Haddock returned to sit next to his mother, eyeing her suspiciously.  She sniffed.

             “Oh, don’t give me that look.  You’re as bad as your father—rest his soul.  Now about you and Miss Marlowe: have you asked her yet?”

“Asked her what?”

             “To marry you, silly!” Mrs. Haddock said with a laugh.

“Mother, don’t you think that would be going a little too fast?”

             “Well I can’t help it if I want grandchildren to pamper and my son refused to marry that nice girl two years ago!  I’m not getting any younger!” Mrs. Haddock huffed.  She wrinkled her already lined brows as she tapped a finger to her upper lip.  “Ohhh, what was her name?  Malcolm, what was her name?”

             Florence.  A name laced with bittersweet memories and an unused engagement ring that had been flung into the sea.  Haddock shifted in his seat, hoping his mother wouldn’t notice his sudden discomfort.

             “I don’t remember,” he lied.  Mrs. Haddock, however, was still in her brown study.

“It began with an F…or was it an E?  Flora?  No, I distinctly remember thinking of Italy whenever I heard her name…”

Haddock picked up his book on the nearby table and cracked it open.  Reading proved difficult since his mind kept traipsing down rabbit trails that led to Florence Huntington.  She was very similar to Miss Marlowe in some respects, if not in looks, in personality.  He had been the one to ask her to dance at the ball when she first moved to Broadburn.  Mrs. Haddock thought she espied a wedding on the horizon after six months of courting, but had been proven wrong when Florence grew tired of Haddock’s increasing evasiveness and hesitancy to propose while he was diverting his efforts to stopping Sir Drexel.  She grew restless and expressed intentions of leaving to live with a rich aunt and uncle if Haddock didn’t stop her.  In a bout of frustration over his futile efforts at curbing Sir Drexel’s murders and Florence’s unhappiness, he had snapped at her.  Florence broke off the relationship and left with her aunt and uncle a week later, never to return to Broadburn.  Haddock would have proposed once he had dealt with Sir Drexel, which ironically, he had succeeded in driving out of the village a few days afterwards.

He tiredly rubbed his face, bringing his book up higher.  He had no worries about a similar incident happening this time.

                                                                       *

Miss Marlowe arrived within a half an hour and was escorted to the library.  Haddock stood when she was conducted into the room and stiffly pecked her hand while Mrs. Haddock patted the window seat beside her chair, eager to talk.  They started off with the latest gossip, diverted to new dress patterns that just arrived in the village, somehow wound up on the topic of fine china, and were gabbing about a novel that Miss Marlowe had induced Mrs. Haddock to read when the continual droning and soft heat of the fire caused Haddock to fall asleep.  He came to when he heard someone say his name.

             “…So happy that you and Malcolm are getting along.  Personally, I think that you’re a much better woman than that—hmph—I still can’t remember her name.  Anyways, you show more spirit than that other one, and I’m sure that you and Malcolm will be happy together.”

             Haddock kept his eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep so he could eavesdrop.  Miss Marlowe softly laughed.

“I don’t think that your son is planning on proposing anytime soon, Mrs. Haddock, if that’s what you’re implying.  Who was—?”

             “My late husband—rest his soul—waited a year and a half before proposing to me. He could go on a bear hunt without a visible bit of fear, but when it came to asking me to marry him…well, he turned into a nervous schoolboy.  Just be patient, my dear.”

             “You won’t have to worry about that,” Miss Marlowe muttered.

“Eh?  What was that?  Speak up, dear.  My ears aren’t as good as they used to be.”

             “Oh, hm, nothing.  Who was this other woman you were referring to?”

“She was—"

Miss Marlowe didn’t need to know about Florence Huntington.  Haddock straightened himself up in his seat, making sure to exaggerate his movements to let the women know he was conscious again.  Mrs. Haddock and Miss Marlowe looked over at him at the same time.

             “Well, well.  Look who finally decided to return to the land of the living,” Miss Marlowe remarked.

“I’ve told you time and again that you need to pace yourself when dealing with Estate Business,” Mrs. Haddock scolded. “You’ll end up just like your father—rest his soul—if you keep burning both ends of the candle.”

Haddock picked up his book and began thumbing through the pages, searching for his spot.

“I had a restless night.”

Mrs. Haddock understood the code.  She returned her attention to Miss Marlowe.

             “What were we talking about?  Oh, I remember: the Harrison’s new colts.  Pureblood Thoroughbreds, which seems extravagant for use as carriage horses. Now we only use—”

Haddock allowed a small sense of relief to come over him.  Miss Marlowe didn’t need to know about Florence Huntington.