#these four all living in one household at the same time would be insane

[cran-does-art-things]

sorry i havent posted since april have some dreemurrs

[ser-i-vant]

₅₄Xe

i never properly introduced these mooks to the world, despite always wanting to. look at my white haired men (and yvit too, hi yvit) the main characters of my funny little fan-story called Tungsten Latticework. they have the protagonist curse of Never Being Allowed To Have A Nice Time Ever [read about them under the cut vvv]

being technically the same person, they share a rough upbringing. coming from a reasonably well-respected, but brutally harsh household, they never knew much kindness in life, and turned inward to focus on their studies - the only way they figured they might get the appreciation they desperately lacked. until the zariman incident, that is... they're both extremely intelligent (especially in the field of engineering), and extremely volatile people. bitter and resentful to the core, everything about them is sharp and unfriendly - inward and outward

to the left is 54 (fifty-four), or fif for short. he takes the role of the drifter, duviri's great and terrible outlaw. an eternity of waking up only to die left quite the mark on his psyche, coating his tongue in venom and sparking embers between his teeth. he'd give anything to get out of duviri once and for all, but he's halted by the existence of his counterpart in the origin system: two of the same person can't live in the same plane of existence. no matter how hard he tries, he's stuck in a prison of his own making. it drives him mad he makes quick friends (""friends"") with lodun. you know, the guy who killed him a kjhillion times. it works out as well as one might expect; two stubborn, bullish hotheads with a penchant for violence... but like knows like. "there's one guy in this kingdom who understands me and i fucking hate him". they somehow sort of get along. fif usually does whatever oddjob lodun tasks him with, purely to feel like he's doing something useful with his forever-time. to feel like he belongs

to the right is xenon. he takes the role of the operator, the fierce and fearless tenno. he hates that title. he hates all of it, he hates being a killer. so, after The Sacrifice, he too leaves the tenno faction. he opts to work with the corpus, to invent technologies to hinder his kinsmen. he works under alad v (who else would be insane enough to get a tenno on board), and despite taking a while to adjust, he flourishes in this environment. he finds immense success with his inventions and prototypes. it's killing him. he's never felt more unhappy in his life, but... this is what he wanted, right? he tries to choke the feeling down with praise from his accomplishments, and it almost doesn't fail he's still haunted by his past. not only that, but entities beyond his understanding seek to make his waking and sleeping hours just a little bit worse. the man in the wall torments him - mocks him - in the form of a mangled corpse-twin. from a different angle, a metaphysical copy of him is threatening to take the miserable little life he'd spent so long carving out for himself. xenon is terrified every single day of his life. dude can't catch a break

tucked away beside xenon is his cephalon, yvit. he is a sweetheart. originally an orange octahedron, xenon granted him a humanoid body as part of an experiment. he definitely has very specific feelings about it, but he manages to push them down deep inside. he would never reject a gift from his operator yvit certainly has a lot on his mind, but he's a competent and kind companion to xenon (who takes this love for granted like crazy. if only he allowed himself to be loved...). he particularly enjoys history and record-keeping, being able to recite many codices by heart (though he is a machine, so it's sort of cheating). likes keeping his appearance tidy, especially with his new body

[atopvisenyashill]

How many Targaryens have we had that are only childs?

oh interesting question.

so technically there’s (possibly) the conquerors’ father - he doesn’t have any recorded siblings and he married a velaryon instead of a sister. but besides the sort of nothing characters before the conquest there’s only a few - ya girl Rhaenys, baby Maegor Targaryen (son of Daenora & Aerion), Vaella Targaryen, and Steffon Baratheon (Rhaelle’s son).

what’s interesting about all of them is they probably didn’t always feel like they were only siblings; they’re all born during a time where they’d have a lot of cousins, and near to their age aunts & uncles. rhaenys was likely running around the red keep alongside viserys & daemon, and probably gael & aemma as well. both maegor and vaella, assuming they lived out of childhood, likely grew up under the care of their grandfather king maekar and uncle king egg alongside egg’s kids. vaella was born in 222, maegor in 232 (i think it might be 234 i’m not looking it up again) and duncan targaryen was born around 220, with jaehaerys following in 225, etc, so they’re all around the same age. given that vaella and maegor were both almost king/queen, i do wonder if we’ll get some other similarities to rhaenys especially with vaella - and if like her ancestor, Vaella perhaps dies a fiery death, though not atop a dragon but at the Tragedy of Summerhall.

there’s also a two that probably felt like they were only children because their siblings were either not at home or weren’t born until they were adults. that includes daeron ii, whose siblings were all around the ages of his kids and grandkids, and….rhaegar targaryen the rat man himself. i think this actually makes a lot of character sense; i think if daeron had siblings closer to age who he was closer to, daeron’s issues with his father would seem much less dire (even having a sister who will never inherit but is perhaps two years younger? able to share some of the burden of having That Insane Household Raising You? might have been a huge boon!), and Rhaegar’s melancholy nature & interest in magic might not be achieved if he had, for example, a brother four years younger to get him out of his head a bit.

every other targaryen has at least one sibling, full or half.

[fumblingmusings]

We all know spain and austria were married for the longest time, could you talk about it

Just short of 200 years! And yet I don't know if I can say they actually spent much time together. King Charles V split it off because it was just too much for one man to get to grips on, so if they were one household it was for... I don't know how to define it actually. Either 1506 if you go with a Habsburg becoming King of Spain or 1519 where politically the HRE, Austria, BeNeLux and Spain all united. Personal or political union, usual story... Point is, it politically split in 1522 (when Charles ceased to be Archduke of Austria and gave it to his brother), or 1556 (where he gave up Holy Roman Emperor and gave it to his brother), or... I don't know. It's complicated. So, if you're going by that metric definition of marriage, they at worst didn't even manage five years. If you're going by the name and name alone, then yeah, you've got 200 years together.

I think we know in canon Antonio's household was BeNeLux, Romano and I assume where relevant Portugal. Austria had HRE, Czechia/Bohemia and Slovakia, Hungary and Veneziano, amongst others. I think it's important to remember that the "Let others wage war, but thou, O happy Austria, marry; for those kingdoms which Mars gives to others, Venus gives to thee" quote refers not just to the intermarriages with Spain, but also Bohemia, Hungary plus the pressures on Poland and France. Also Austria did absolute buckets of fighting at this time.

Austria is literally designed to be a wall. That mid point in Europe no-one east can cross. I think therefore his attentions were always elsewhere. In the same vein, Antonio was equally focused elsewhere. Roderich can complain 'I won't tolerate bigamy' but bruh. Bruh. I guess it depends where Erzsi is that day. Mayhaps bigamy is a nono but open marriage is fine. Who knows. The idea of them only actually being one household for like four years but being tangled in this awful mess of a family for 200 is very funny to me. You really can't find more diametrically opposed characters.

Completely off topic ramble under the cut

If people ever want some not English period dramas to watch then going from Maximilian for why the Habsburgs ended up in BeNeLux (including the most upsetting depiction of what happened to Mary of Burgundy in that yes she fell from her horse and had her spine crushed and took days for her to die and what am I supposed to feel with her final lines being 'life is not our own we simply borrow it' and telling her husband 'live a little longer then you will follow me' like siocbfdgfszxvcbngfsxcv okay) and then from there watch the Spanish Isabel, The Broken Crown, and then Carlos, rey emperador for the merger and splintering of the Spanish and Austrian territories. You can keep going actually... including the fantasy time travel El ministerio del tiempo which honestly 10 out 10 insanity if you want to hop across Spanish history yes including exactly what you would expect from the World War Two episodes and an episode where Phillip II decides to become King of the World following the defeat of the Armada honestly it's great it's dumb it's doctor who minus aliens. Spain has done so many period dramas it's honestly great. Margaret of Austria wishes she was this pretty (sorry that's mean it's not like she had any choice in the matter in what was happening to the genes of her family).

[marauders-simppp]

A/N this is a poly!marauders fix but it starts off as just James! I don’t know how many chapters there will be but i don’t imagine this being short. IM SO SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR ERRORS!!!

Josephine Donn-Byrne was not raised in a good household. Her father, Daniel, was a dick. He was an abusive alcoholic and when he wasn’t abusing his kids or his wife, he was abusing drugs. Her mother, Beth, was a bipolar cunt. When she was happy, she would spend all of the money the family had spent saving up and when she was depressed, she was just like Daniel.

When Joey was 9, Daniel overdosed and she found him dead in her closet while she and her 7-year-old brother Aidan were playing hide and seek. Her mother had gone into rehab after that. Then, the government decided to put Joey and Aidan in a group home for the rest of their lives.

Now, when Dumbledore broke down the door and told Joey she was a witch she wasn’t fucking surprised because she already fucking knew. What she didn’t know, was that her father and mother had been a part of this fucking cult thing called the sacred 28.

That meant, that Joey and Aidan werea partt of some of the last families in the wizarding world that was still “pureblood” or whatever the fuck that meant.

On September 1st, 1971, Joey and Aidan pushed through the crowds at Kings Cross station in an attempt at getting to the platform on time.

They were almost late but ended up having just enough time to get Joey on the train with her luggage and barely enough time to say goodbye.

On the train, while Joey was looking for somewhere to sit, she saw a girl a little bit taller than herself with dark skin and long legs.

They introduced themselves and Joey learned that her name was Dorcas Meadowes. A beautiful name if you asked her.

She and Dorcas went to look for an empty compartment but the only place they found was a room with 2 boys by the names of Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch.

Barty and Joey clicked immediately. They both liked the same things, Quidditch, David Bowie, QUEEN, reading, poetry, etc. The four 1st years talked the entire train ride to Hogwarts. They all got along quite well for students who had just met.

At the sorting, Joey felt surprisingly relaxed. On the train, Barty and her newfound friends had told her about the houses and how the best one was Slytherin.

When Joey was called to get sorted the hat had announced that she had been placed in Slytherin. But, Joey couldn’t help but notice a pair of eyes on her coming from the Gryffindor table. When she looked over she was met with the vivid grey eyes belonging to a boy who Joey could identify as Sirius Black.

He kept eye contact with her until she felt as though he was staring straight into her soul and she looked away. That was the first time Joey had ever seen Sirius and it was as if the air had been knocked straight out of her.

He was sitting with three other boys, one had sandy brown hair and scars on his face and the parts of his arms that were exposed. Another boy had blonde hair and he looked very scrawny. The 3rd and last boy had darker skin and hair that looked almost black, he was talking animatedly with a boy that looked a couple of years older than him who had pearly white teeth and slicked hair.

He looked to be in his 3rd year and he kept getting distracted by a girl at a different table who had long mousy brown hair with bangs and pigtails.

When Joey looked away she immediately saw Barty and Evan sitting next to each other while they waved her over to them. She went to sit by them and when she did, Barty started talking to her in a calm voice so they could still hear the other students getting sorted.

Dorcas got sorted into their house which made Joey insanely happy that she wouldn’t have to hang out with only Evan and Barty all year.

When their classes started they had most periods with Gryffindor which got very chaotic very fast. During potions, Lily Evans and Remus Lupin kept trying to get the best score possible which seemed ridiculous to Barty and Joey who couldn’t care less about their grades, as long as they passed the class they’d be fine.

During the fourth week of school, Evan was in the library studying for a quiz he had to take again because he failed it the first time he took it when he met a girl named Pandora Lestrange. She had breathtakingly platinum blonde hair and beautiful baby-blue eyes.

Evan and Pandora got along right away so, the next day at breakfast, he decided to introduce her to Joey, Barty, and Dorcas. They all loved Pandora immediately which Evan was grateful for because he enjoyed her company and he wanted to be able to hang out with her more.

Throughout their first year, Joey had a crush on Sirius Black. Ever since she made eye contact with him on the first day she could feel something shift inside her. She wasn’t necessarily attracted to his looks and appearance but more to his loud personality.

During their second year at Hogwarts, Regulus Black got sorted into Slytherin where he, Joey, Evan, Barty, and Pandora all became insanely good friends. Joey’s crush on Sirius drifted away slightly when Regulus told her about how shitty of a brother he could be.

In potions that year they had to have partners for a couple of assignments, Joey got paired with Remus Lupin for most of them which she wished she could say she hated. But, truthfully, she developed a bit of a crush on him instead.

She loved how his laugh was almost infectious, she loved his sandy brown hair, she loved his sense of style, she loved how he always had chocolate, but most of all, she loved how quiet he was. He wasn’t quiet in a normal way, no, he was quiet in his way.

He was loud once you got to know him but he was quiet in every other way. Hell, even his clothes seemed quiet. The way he wrote seemed quiet.

During their 3rd year, Joey was still crushing on Remus Lupin but not as much. She, Barty, Evan, and Regulus decided to join the Slytherin Quidditch team which worked out for them because they all got positions on the team.

Joey and Evan were Beaters, Barty was a Chaser, and Regulus got Seeker which he was uncharacteristically happy about. James Potter and Sirius Black were also on the Griffindor Quidditch team which proved to be a lot of fun for Joey and Evan because they got to taunt Sirius even though Joey still had a tiny crush on him.

What Joey didn’t know was that every time she would walk out onto the Quidditch pitch Remus Lupin would silently pray that she wouldn’t get hurt. What Joey also didn’t know was that Remus shared her crush. He felt the same way about her but he knew that Sirius would be pissed at him for having a crush on his little brother’s friend.

That year, Joey’s younger brother Aidan came to Hogwarts and got sorted into Slytherin with her. He was constantly getting into trouble for fighting other kids and causing unnecessary problems.

Now, during their 4th year is when things started getting interesting, Joey had gotten “hot” over the summer according to half of their year. Multiple people had tried asking her out, boys and girls, but Joey had her mind set on one, sometimes two, people. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

When Joey ran into Remus on the train and saw him wearing Doc Martens, a sweater vest over a collared shirt, jeans with pins on them, and a messenger bag covered in pins, she was convinced that he was gay.

So, naturally, she tried to get over him. She tried messing around in a broom closet with a girl that had asked her out, she tried making out with some guy at a party, and she even tried getting a new crush. But nothing seemed to work.

Now, the thing about Remus Lupin is yes, yes he is gay. But not fully. He’s Bisexual. So, he still likes Joey, but he’s just a more feminine boy when it comes down to it. Sirius Black was the same way. He would wear mesh shirts and low-waisted jeans with designs and patches on them.

When Sirius introduced James Potter to waist chains, James thought he would die. He immediately loved them and he wore them every Hogsmeade weekend when they would go out.

Joey Donn-Byrne never thought that she could be attracted to not one but 3 guys that she was pretty sure were gay.

That’s another thing. Joey had begun to have a crush on James after she tried getting over Remus. She knew that James was too busy simping over Lily to notice her but still. Joey loved playing Quidditch against the Griffindor team even more now because she adored the power she felt when they would win and James looked about ready to cry standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch with his broom in his hand.

Aidan was still constantly getting into fights with other 2nd years for the dumbest reasons. He was given detention for most of the year, and he didn’t have detention the other times because he hadn’t gotten caught.

That year, Professor Slughorn decided it would be a good idea to have there be more projects where you needed an assigned partner. During these projects, Joey got paired with all 4 Marauders at least twice.

She and Sirius got along great except he still pretended to hold a small grudge against her simply for being friends with his younger brother. Remus and her had always gotten along well and they were both hoping that that would never change.

With James, he always had so much energy that usually, Joey could match, but sometimes he was just too much and she had to tell him to be quiet and calm down which he immediately obliged every time.

James had started to reciprocate the feelings that Joey had for him. He wasn’t mad about it either. He loved the thought of her and him together. Even though she was friends with Regulus and she was in Slytherin, he still really really liked her and the power she had over him.

Remus and Sirius also began having crushes. Both on Joey and each other. Though, neither of them knew that.

It was now 5th year and Joey was walking Aidan through the crowded area that was Kings Cross station. She was sporting a black eye that a girl named Angela Spring decided to give her when she accidentally used her eyeliner instead of her own.

The siblings were getting weird looks left and right. Aidan was wearing baggy clothes, a red crew neck hoodie with jeans held up by a shoelace he took off of one of his old pairs of hoes while Joey was wearing a pair of baggy overalls and a mesh “bra” with rainbow triangles covering her nipples and she was wearing her favorite converse that had many things embroidered and drawn onto them.

As they got closer to the gate between platforms 9 and 10, Aidan pushed her ahead so that she could go first. Joey obliged and ran through the gate while pushing her trolly. When she got through she was met by the beautiful sight that was platform 9 ¾.

There were 1st years and their parents hugging and crying, 7th years meeting up with their friends for the last time, 4th years that were excited for finally being considered “little kids” anymore, and 5th years that were happy to see their friends but on the inside they were dreading O.W.Ls at the end of the year.

Joey turned around when she heard Aidan grunting as he tripped over his cart while running through the platform.

“Fucking twat.” Joey snorted as she reached a hand out to help Aidan up.

“Shut the fuck up, fucking cunt.” Aidan snapped back jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah. Go find another whore to fuck around with.” Joey said as she pushed Aidan away.

Shoving through the crowd was proving to be a challenge for Joey and her luggage. Nobody was letting her past them and all the first years were blocking the way by taking so long to say goodbye to their parents.

Joey got onto the train after almost getting trampled twice. She searched the compartments until she found one that held Barty, Evan, and Regulus. Some of her best friends.

The second she opened the door, Barty was already shooting up out of his seat to hug her. When he did, he ended up pushing her out into the hallway again so that her back was against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Barty grumbled into Joey’s hair, hugging her tighter.

“I can tell.” Joey chuckled as she hugged him with just as much enthusiasm.

Usually, during summer, they could all hang out together but this summer, Barty’s parents took him to Italy, Dorcas’s parents took her to France, Regulus’s parents never let him out of the house, Pandora’s parents took her to the US, and Evan’s parents took him to Asia. Joey had stayed at the group home doing absolutely nothing besides getting high off of shitty weed she had gotten off this guy on the corner.

They went back into the compartment and talked while they waited for Dorcas and Pandora to get there. When Dorcas finally showed up she pulled Joey into a hug faster than light.

“That’s a bit of a risky outfit, don't you think?” Dorcas joked as she pulled away from the hug to take in Joey’s appearance. Her hair was slightly shorter because over the summer she and Aidan cut each other’s hair, she was still the same height, and she had more mature features. But, not only that, it seemed that she had grown into her body better. Her arms seemed less lanky, along with her legs, and from what Dorcas could tell, her boobs and ass had gotten bigger.

“Oh shut up,” Joey laughed, sitting back down in her seat next to Regulus. Dorcas sat next to her, close to the door while Regulus sat leaning against the window with a book in hand. Dorcas spread out across Joey, laying her head in her lap.

Evan was across from Regulus and Barty was across from Joey with a smile on his face. They talked until Pandora got to the compartment and sat next to Barty while she told them how America was.

About 2 hours into the ride, Dorcas had fallen asleep on Joey Evan was asleep leaning against the window, Pandora was talking with Barty and Joey about music, and Regulus was silently reading his book.

“Whose your favorite artist or artists?” Barty asked Joey and Pandora.

“David Bowie, QUEEN, ABBA, and Mott The Hoople,” Joey replied with zero hesitation.

“Umm, I would say, The Beatles,” Pandora replied in her dreamy voice.

“Ok, well, Joey, what does David Bowie mean to you?” Barty asked the curly-haired girl.

“What does David Bowie mean to me?! What does air mean to my lungs?!?!” Joey asked louder than was necessary.

What she didn't know was that the Marauders had been walking past their compartment with snacks and candy in their hands from the trolly lady right when she said that, making them stop momentarily. Remus, James, and Sirius could’ve sworn that they all felt themselves falling for her even harder.

They paused when they heard her angelic voice yelling about David Bowie. Remus looked towards Sirius who only shrugged before leaning closer to the door with a closed curtain.

“Wait, wait. Imagine how weird it would be to have a piss kink.” Joey laughed causing Barty and Pandora to laugh too, “No, no, I’m serious. Like, this boy last year, we were dead ass fucking, and then he looked me dead in the eyes and just went “Piss on me”. And I-I was like “What the fuck bro?!” It was so fucked up I’m not even joking.” Joey said between laughs. At this point, all three teens inside the compartment were laughing hysterically.

Sirius chuckled lightly along with James and Remus. They loved hearing Joey laugh. To them, it was a noise they couldn’t live without.

The rest of the train ride was spent laughing, smoking, and playing card games. When they got to Hogwarts, they all got off the train quickly to get a carriage together.

All the carriages were full except for a couple, but the one that the group could have fit in already had a Ravenclaw couple in it so Joey and Barty volunteered to get a different one together so they didn’t have to be alone.

They looked down the line of carriages to see one with the silhouettes of only four people which was perfect considering the carriages carried six people at a time.

While they walked down the line of carriages Joey lit a cigarette she found in her pocket. She had no idea where it came from but she didn’t care.

They opened the door to the carriage only to be met by the Marauders lounging comfortably around the seats.

“Alright scooch over,” Joey told James as she climbed in and sat in the open seat next to him close to the door. He was sitting next to Sirius who was closest to the “window”.

Barty sat across from Joey next to Remus while Peter sat across from Sirius.

“What are you doing in here?” Peter asked curiously. He didn’t even mean for it to come out rude he just genuinely wanted to know what two Slytherins were doing in the same carriage as 4 Griffindors.

“All the others were full,” Barty replied shortly before glaring at Joey for choosing to sit with the Marauders instead of just finding a different compartment.

James would never admit it but truthfully he was sweating and fidgeting nervously because of his proximity to Joey. He, Remus, and Sirius were using all of their might not to look at Joey’s chest which was mostly exposed due to her mesh shirt.

“Aren’t you supposed to have changed into your uniforms by now?” Sirius voiced the question that had been through all four Griffindor’s heads.

“Well we didn’t on the train and I’m sure you wouldn’t want us changing in here now would you?” Barty snapped at him.

“Now don’t make assumptions Barty. You never know what’s going on in a teenage boy's mind.” Joey taunted with a sly smirk on her face.

“I’m a teenage boy.” Barty was quick to defend himself.

“Yes but then again, let's not make assumptions.” She mocked. Barty glared at her and the Griffindors had to hold back their laughter.

“What book are you reading?” Joey asked Remus who was holding a book that looked like it had been used for years on end.

“Oh, um, it’s a Muggle book called “The Outsiders”,” Remus informed her. She nodded having never read the book before because as Remus had said it was a Muggle book.

“Is it any good?” She asked the boy. James was almost jealous at the amount of attention Joey was giving to Remus and not him so he decided to butt into the conversation.

“He’s constantly talking about it and carrying it around so yeah I’d assume it was good.” He snapped. Joey shot him a menacing glance.

“It’s rude to interrupt you know?” She ask him although it was more of a statement against him. It was almost as if James was trying to curl in on himself after Joey’s excursion of dominance.

“Calm the fuck down, nobody cares.” Barty joked causing Joey to kick his shin lightly. But, Barty, in all of his theatrical dramatics, had to make a big deal out of it by grabbing his shin and wailing loudly.

Joey wanted to die at that moment. She didn’t think that she had ever been that embarrassed. She rarely got embarrassed. She was usually the one embarrassing her friends. Not the other way around. But in front of all of her crushes, it was a new feeling. One that she couldn’t tell if she liked or not.

“Anyways, to answer your question, Joey, yes. It is a good book. One of my favorites.” Remus replied.

“What’s it about?” Joey asked him curiously.

Remus and Joey then spent the entire carriage ride talking about “The Outsiders” and other books they had both read while Sirius and James spent most of it trying not to look at Joey’s tits and Barty and Peter spent it playing rock paper scissors silently.

At some point during the ride, Joey threw her cigarette out the window and lit a new one causing Sirius to swoon even more.

James had fallen asleep towards the end of the ride leaning against Joey’s shoulder which she truly didn’t mind whatsoever but the boy wasn’t small and he was slightly crushing her. When the carriage stopped, Remus reached over to shake James awake but Joey stopped him saying that she could do it.

They all got out of the carriage except James and Joey the latter of which was still trying to ease James awake.

“Hey, love? You need to wake up now.” Joey cooed into James’ ear. James began to stir but as he did so he moved his face farther into Joey’s neck almost hitting her sweet spot which would have been embarrassing because she probably would have moaned.

After James woke up, the two of them walked up to the castle together seeing as all of their friends had already left.

“Don’t you still need to change?” James asked the girl nervously.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I do. Wanna come?” Joey asked, hiding the teasing tone in her voice.

“Er, where exactly?” James asked as he ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he had picked up somehow.

“To help me find somewhere to change?” Joey smirked at the now-blushing boy.

“Er, I mean-I, um, a-are you s-serious?” James stuttered making Joey laugh lightly.

“Yes, I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.” Joey smiled up at the boy. He was tall, around 6’0-6’1. Sirius was shorter than him, around 5’11, but Remus was the tallest out of all of them being 6’4. Joey had to crane her neck to look at any of them considering she was only 5’4 and a whole foot shorter than Remus.

“O-ok,” James replied hesitantly while fidgeting with his fingers. Joey reached over and took one of his hands in hers, intertwining them as they walked. James was a furious shade of red and he knew it, and so did Joey.

“W-why did you d-do that?” James asked referring to their hands.

“Because you were fidgeting,” Joey stated as if it was obvious. But by the look on James’ face, he had no idea what she meant, “I don’t like it when you fidget, as cute as it is. I watch you do it in class a lot after you get a question wrong and I don’t like it.” She concluded.

“Oh. Ok. Where are you taking me?” James asked, trying to change the subject from one that made him blush even more than he thought was possible, to where Joey planned on taking him so she could change.

“Probably an empty classroom, I don’t know. Most people are gonna be at the feast anyways so it doesn’t really matter where.” Joey replied.

The two of them looked for an unlocked, empty classroom for about 5 minutes but to James and his impatient mind, he would have said an hour at the least.

“Here!” James exclaimed as he finally found a door to a dark classroom that opened.

“Great, thanks love,” Joey said walking into the classroom and taking James’ hand to pull him in with her.

“D-do you want me to close my eyes or something?” James asked nervously. The atmosphere had changed from a silly one where they were joking as they ran around finding a classroom to more of a serious one.

“If that’s what you’re comfortable with, then yes,” Joey replied softly. She could tell that James was very inexperienced with intimate things such as this, so she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or scare him away.

“O-ok. D-do I…do I have to l-look away?” James stuttered pathetically. He was almost shitting himself with fear of rejection or her thinking he was weird and making him leave and then never talking to him again.

“No, you don’t have to. I’m ok with that.” Joey replied with a soft smile on her face, she was happy that James was ok with asking her for “embarrassing” things. But, she was also in love with the amount of power she had over him from just the simplest things.

“You ready?” She asked with the same smile still etched on her face.

“Yeah,” James said, this time, without hesitance.

Joey then set her bag which held her robes and other things she needed on the train, on a desk, and began to undo the straps of her overalls. She watched James as his mouth fell open when he saw her standing in only her mesh top and dark blue thong.

Joey then reached around her back to unhook the small clasp at the back of her top. She undid it and slowly, very slowly, let the straps fall over her shoulders then slide down her arm and onto the floor.

James could feel his mouth watering at just the sight of her tits. He had never seen any in person, just in the magazines Sirius had under his bed in their dorm room, so you can imagine his surprise when he saw Joey’s.

He thought they were perfect. He thought she was perfect. No. He knew she was perfect. The only time he had been this intimate with a girl was when Holly Springfield who was in 6th year last year, tried to make out with James in the library, who, at the time, was in 4th year.

“C-can I t-touch them?” James asked just above a whisper. If Joey hadn’t been listening to every sound he had been making she would have missed it. Joey smirked as she watched his feet shuffle on the floor. He didn’t fidget his fingers though because he knew she didn’t like that.

“Yes, love. Come here.” Joey said as she beckoned him over to her. James walked the short distance they had between them over to the half-naked woman. She took his hands in hers, giving them a small, reassuring squeeze, before bringing them up to her tits.

James cupped them lightly before giving them a gentle squeeze. He watched as her nipples perked up even though his hands were warm, and squeezed a little harder. Joey moaned softly causing James to whimper.

“I need to put my clothes on love,” Joey whispered to James. He looked up at her with a sort of desperation in his eyes.

“C’mon. We’re already late to the feast just let me put my clothes on,” Joey coaxed. Eventually, James let go of her tits and let her slip her skirt up her legs and hang around her waist while she put her button-up shirt on. She tucked in her shirt and looked towards James expectantly.

“Can you come to zip this up?” She asked with a small gesture as she motioned to the zipper on the back of her skirt, truthfully, she didn’t need him to zip it, she could reach it perfectly fine, but, she loved seeing the blush on his cheeks as he got even remotely close to her.

After James zipped her skirt with shaky hands, Joey put her tie around her neck but left it loose and rolled her black stockings up to her thick thighs.

“Cool, let’s go,” Joey said taking James’ hand and leading him to the great hall where the sorting would begin soon.

Joey kissed James’ cheek before opening the doors and walking to her seat at Slytherin's table next to Barty and the rest of her friends who all gave her incredulous looks.

“Did you just shag my brother’s douchey best friend?” That was the first thing Regulus said when Joey sat down.

“No, I did not shag him. If you must know he was just helping me with something.” Joey dismissed, it wasn’t completely a lie, he had helped her zip her skirt.

“Yeah, sure.” Regulus scoffed. Just then, the doors to the great hall boomed open, and in came Professor McGonagall with an army of first years nervously walking behind her.

After the sorting, a multitude of foods appeared on the table which the entire school ate with zero hesitance.

Joey was now walking to her house's common room with Barty and Regulus seeing as the rest of their friends had decided to eat some more before walking back.

“Oi! Joey!” Someone called from down the busy corridor. Joey turned around and stood on her tiptoes to try and get a glimpse of who had called her name. She then saw a flash of golden hair and immediately knew who it was.

“Hey, Amos.” Joey cringed at her voice. She could hear Barty and Regulus snickering behind her causing her to reach back just to slap their biceps.

“Um, so I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me on the first Hogsmeade weekend?” The 6th year Hufflepuff asked her, trying to hide his excitement, “I know it’s only the first night and all but I didn’t want you to get snatched up.” He chuckled nervously.

“Erm, I don’t know Amos, I kind of want to keep my options open right now. But I’ll think about it!” Joey called to him as her friends whisked her away.

“I want to keep my options open?!” Barty laughed loudly as they turned a corner.

“I don’t know! What did you want me to say?!” Joey laughed along.

“You should’ve said, “Oh, hey Amos, listen, buddy, I’d rather fuck a turtle than let you anywhere near me thank you very much”!” Regulus laughed which only fueled Joey and Barty. Pretty soon, all three Slytherins were bent over while they hysterically laughed.

“Ok, c’mon. We don’t want Filch to come over and yell at us.” Barty said as they began walking to the dungeons. They walked down the narrow staircase while chatting, careful to avoid the disappearing step.

They walked through the wall at the end of the corridor in the dungeons to see the same tapestry of Salzar Slytherin standing on some random hill while muggles died around him, rolling on the floor while blood spilled out of them or they lay cold on the floor, hit by and unforgivable.

“Pureblood,” Regulus said to Salazar who gave them an approving smile and let them through.

They walked into the dinghy common room where most of the rest of the people in their house were talking, playing games, or reading. Most people would expect the Slytherins to be boring but they were anything but.

The common room had a very green theme, with green curtains and couches and black and silver accents on everything. Joey was lucky that her favorite color was green otherwise she would have hated the common room.

The fire was burning with a bright flame that warmed up all the students sitting on the couches around it. Avery Mulciber happened to be one of those people. He was sitting with Lucious Malfoy and some of his other foul friends, a lot of them were on the Quidditch team which Joey, Berty, Evan, and Regulus hated.

“Ah, well if it isn’t the mudblood lover!” Avery exclaimed when he made eye contact with Joey, “You know, I would consider fucking you if you hadn’t already gotten that filthy mudblood cum in you.” He taunted. Joey honestly gave zero fucks about what Avery was saying. She had only ever messed around with some people last year and that was mostly making out. She had one boy that she fucked about 4 times all last semester and a girl that she had fucked about 9 times all of last year.

“Shut the fuck up Mulciber.” Barty snarled. Avery and his friends laughed loudly before approaching the 3 younger students.

Joey walked up the stairs before they could get close to her. She despised Avrey’s friend group. They were all either Death Eaters or lined up to be.

Joey walked into her room only to be met by 3 of her 4 roommates sitting around the room talking. Courtney Casbin, Reese Frenky, and Yasmine Garcia were the girls that shared the dorm with Joey, Dorcas was the other person.

Joey went to her bed in the corner of the room. Ysmine’s bed was closest to the door, then it was Reese, then Courtney, then Dorcas’s bed which was right next to Joey’s. There was a desk for each student in between the beds. Except, Joey’s was against a wall opposite of her bed because her bed was directly against the wall.

The girls ignored Joey as she went to her trunk at the foot of her bed to pull out the new posters and pictures she had gotten over the summer to hang above her bed.

She had a multitude of kinds of posters. From David Bowie to ABBA, to her favorite Quidditch team, to muggle movies, she had it all. She had them up not only because she liked them but because it pissed off all of her roommates except Dorcas because her bed looked the same.

She hung up some Polaroids she had of her and Aidan messing around with random shit they found around the group home, then she hung up a small-ish pride flag. Courtney saw her do this making her scoff. Joey knew she was homophobic. She was very vocal about it and her thoughts on Joey’s “lifestyle”.

Joey ignored her and got up to shower in the built-in bathroom she and her roommates shared. She got out after washing her hair and her body then put on a big QUEEN shirt and a pair of comfy underwear then fell asleep.

When Joey woke up she wasn’t surprised to see that everybody was already out of the dorm except Dorcas who was still snoring quietly. She looked at the clock on the desk in between her and Dorcas’ beds to see that it was already 8:15. That meant that the girls would have 15 minutes to get dressed, eat breakfast, and get to class by 9:00.

Joey quickly got up and started shaking Dorcas awake.

“Fuck off,” Dorcas grumbled as she turned away from Joey still half asleep.

“Get the fuck up! We have 15 fucking minutes!” Joey yelled at her. Dorcas was up in a second, they both got dressed with their shirts halfway tucked and the stockings only partially rolled up their legs.

Joey’s eyeliner from yesterday had stained her under eyes because she hadn’t washed her face at all but she didn’t mind it because, in her opinion, eyeliner and mascara looked better the day after.

They both threw on their shoes and grabbed their bags before running downstairs and into the empty common room. They ran to the kitchens to get a snack which took longer than usual because Joey kept tripping on her untied shoelaces and Dorcas was having a hard time running while putting blush on her face.

When they got to the kitchen they realized that they never actually got their schedules. Neither of them was freaking out, they just knew that if they didn’t get to class on time they would get a detention which would suck, especially on their first day.

They both grabbed a leftover muffin from breakfast and ran to Slughorn's classroom. When they pushed open the door Joey’s shoelace had unfortunately gotten caught under her foot causing her to topple over. Dorcas hadn’t stopped in time and ended up tripping over her, landing on her face.

“Oh! Girls! What are you doing on the floor?!” Slughorn asked cluelessly. He hadn’t seen them fall over he only saw the aftermath.

In a flash, James Potter and Marlene McKinnon had gotten out of their seats to help the girls. James reached out for Joey's hand which she gratefully accepted while Marlene helped Dorcas up.

When the girls stood up they realized that the entire classroom was looking at them with quizzical looks on their faces. Remus and Sirius looked at Joey with concerned faces and when Joey looked around more she realized that this was probably her and Dorcas’ classroom because Barty and Evan were laughing quietly in the back of the classroom.

“Well, girls, why don’t you go to your seats,” Slughorn announced. Joey smiled at James gratefully to which James only blushed and sheepishly walked back over to his seat by two of the other Marauders. Peter had been put in a lower level class due to his not-so-fortunate luck making potions.

“Professor?” Dorcas asked politely, Slughorn turned to her showing that he was listening, “Um, are there assigned seats? Also, me and Joey need our schedules.”

“Ah, yes! Of course. Here are your schedules!” Slughorn said as he pulled 2 pieces of paper out of a drawer in his desk and handed them over to the 2 Slytherins, “As for the seats, yes, yes there are assigned seats. Ms. Meadowes, you’re over there by Ms. McKinnon and Ms. Evans. Ms. Donn-Byrne, you are right beside Mr.Potter.” Slughorn informed them.

Joey went to sit by James, Remus, and Sirius with a small smile on her face. Dorcas would never admit it but she was blushing as she and Marlene walked back to their seats.

Joey looked down at her schedule to see that she got most of the classes that she had wanted.

MS. DONN-BYRNE’S SCHEDULE

Monday

BREAKFAST 6:30 am-8:30 am

PERIOD ONE: Potions With Slughorn 9:00 am-10:30 am

PERIOD TWO: Charms With Flitwick 10:40 am-12:00 am

LUNCH 12:00 pm-1:00 pm

PERIOD FOUR: Transfiguration With McGonagall 1:10 pm-2:30 pm

PERIOD FIVE: Muggle Art With Heekins 2:40 pm-4:00 pm

DINNER 6:00 pm-8:00 pm

CURFEW FROM 9:00 pm-6:00 am (For 1st-3rd Years Only) 10:00 pm-6:00 am (For 4th-7th Years Only)

Tuesday

BREAKFAST 6:30 am-8:30 am

PERIOD ONE: Herbology With Sprout 9:00 am-10:30 am

PERIOD TWO: Muggle Studies With Cobain 10:40 am-12:00 pm

LUNCH 12:00 pm-1:00 pm

PERIOD FOUR: Divination With Trewlany1:10 pm-2:30 pm

PERIOD FIVE: History Of Magic With Binns 2:40 pm-4:00 pm

DINNER 6:00 pm-8:00 pm

CURFEW FROM 9:00 pm-6:00 am (For 1st-3rd Years Only) 10:00 pm-6:00 am (For 4th-7th Years Only)

Wednesday

WEDNESDAYS YOU DON’T HAVE TO WEAR YOUR UNIFORM

BREAKFAST 6:30 am-8:30 am

PERIOD ONE: Double Potions With Slughorn 9:00 am-12:00 pm

LUNCH 12:00 pm-1:00 pm

PERIOD THREE: DADA With 1:10 pm-2:30 pm

PERIOD FOUR: Muggle Music With Spicer

DINNER 6:00 pm-8:00 pm

CURFEW FROM 9:00 pm-6:00 am (For 1st-3rd Years Only) 10:00 pm-6:00 am (For 4th-7th Years Only)

Thursday

BREAKFAST 6:30 am-8:30 am

PERIOD ONE: DADA With 9:00 am-10:30 am

PERIOD TWO: Charms With Flitwick 10:40 am-12:00 am

LUNCH 12:00 pm-1:00 pm

PERIOD FOUR: Transfiguration With McGonagall 1:10 pm-2:30 pm

PERIOD FIVE: Muggle Art With Heekins 2:40 pm-4:00 pm

DINNER 6:00 pm-8:00 pm

CURFEW FROM 9:00 pm-6:00 am (For 1st-3rd Years Only) 10:00 pm-6:00 am (For 4th-7th Years Only)

Friday

BREAKFAST 6:30 am-8:30 am

PERIOD ONE: Herbology With Sprout9:00 am-10:30 am

PERIOD TWO: History Of Magic With Binns 10:40 am-12:00 am

LUNCH 12:00 pm-1:00 pm

PERIOD FOUR: Muggle Music With Spicer 1:10 pm-2:30 pm

PERIOD FIVE: Muggle Studies With Cobain2:40 pm-4:00 pm

DINNER 6:00 pm-8:00 pm

CURFEW FROM 9:00 pm-6:00 am (For 1st-3rd Years Only) 10:00 pm-6:00 am (For 4th-7th Years Only)

“Oh, hey, we have most of the same classes.” SIrius said from his spot across the table. Joey looked up to see that he was leaned across the table studying her schedule.

“Oh, cool.” Joey replied with a smile.

“Yeah me and you have the most similar schedule but you have a good few classes with Remus and James. Like, you have Muggle Music with Remus and you have Muggle Art with all three of us. But I think you have a couple more with them too.” Sirius informed the girl happily.

“Mr. Black will you please sit down and stop talking?” Slughorn asked Sirius in a tone that Joey didn’t necessarily like. Slughorn never like Sirius as much as he liked James, Remus, or Joey because all three of them had been invited to the Slugclub and Sirius had not.

Sirius sat down with a frown on his face. For the duration of class, they learned about different potions and how to make them. Joey was bored out of her mind. Sirius had fallen asleep on Remus’ shoulder causing the latter to turn a bright shade of red, James and Joey were flicking a rubber band at ech other, and Remus was trying to do his best to listen to Slughorn when Sirius was basically on top of him.

At the end of class Remus gently woke Sirius which was absoloutley adorable to Joey. SHe loved watching Remus, this big, tall, intimidating man be so gentle just to wake up a boy that had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

“Come on, Joey! We have Charms next!” Sirius cheered happily after he had woken up from his small nap on Remus. He took her hand and dragged her down the hallway without giving her time to say goodbye to James or Remus.

The rest of the day was pretty boring. Joey had her first two periods with Sirius but her fourth period was with the Ravenclaws which she was happy about because, as much as she adoreded Sirius’ energy, she was happy to chill out with Barty, Evan, and the rest of her friends.

Muggle art had to be her favorite part of the day. It was a mixed class so it didn’t matter what house you were in which Joey appreciated. Sirius and James walked out wit Oaint voering most of their bodies and clothes whil Joey’s hand had been covered in oil pastel, but, to nobody’s surprise, Remus came outt perfectly clean.

Remus went to the library to get some new books he had been wanting to read and Sirius had tagged along with him like a lost puppy. James and Joey were left alone which they truely didn’t mind whatsoever.

“Oi! Joey!” Joey heard Barty shout from the opposite of the courtyard were her and James had been practicing their sketching skills. Joey was significantly better than he was though.

“Hello.” Joey muttered quietly when her friends had gotten close enough to hear her. Joey and James weren’t fazed by the other Slytherins appearance in the slightest they continued to sketch with looking up at each other ocationally to see if the face they were drawing looked acurate.

“What’re you doing?” Dorcas asked the two teens who were still focused on their artwork.

“We’re practicing.” James answered finally looking up at the 5 people standing in front of him, one of them being Sirius’ little brother.

“F’what?” Barty asked with a mocking grin on his face as he looked at Joey who simply glared back, immediatley catching onto the fact that he was going to tease her relentlesly for this later.

“We’re in the same art class. Now, can you please piss off? We’re tryna’ fuckin’ focus here.” Joey snapped. The Slytherins backed off, they knew that if Joey actually got anrgy at them for bothering her they would regret it.

Joey and James went back to drawing each other happily.

[willowhillhistory]

The Happy Valley, by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Published in The Christian Union, 27 Park Place, NY, on August 7, 1872:

The terrible heats of the last few weeks have sent our city population flying "thick as the leaves of Vallombrosa," and we among them have been swept in the tide up the Hudson to Albany, and then up, up a long, slow grade in a palace-car at night, feeling ourselves ascending, and the unmistakable vivid clearness of mountain air blowing refreshment through us, till finally, after passing Sharon Springs, we stopped in Cherry Valley.

Where is Cherry Valley? If we thought our telling would bring all the world to see, we would stop here and now, and not utter a word; for the charm of Cherry Valley is its greenness, its seclusion, its pastoral stillness and quietude, its Arcadian air of unworldly rest and peace.

It might be a valley in the Delectable Mountains that Bunyan writes of, whence in a clear day you should see the battlements of the Celestial City; it might be the happy valley of Rasselas, or any other dreamland where it is always afternoon.

To come down to prose, Cherry Valley is in that belt of hill country that overlooks the valley of the Mohawk. It is said to be 1,300 feet above tidewater mark. It is a quaint old place, with what many places in America are destitute of - a history. Here are farms and homesteads that have been in the possession of the same families for one, two, and three generations, and a rich moss of tradition has grown up under their quiet shades. Here are streets, of those lovely, cool, roomy, breezy old houses that people knew how to build a generation ago, and that have hanging about them a fragrance of old days and old times, like the rosemary from a cabinet.

One such mansion we visited lately, standing on a high green hill, and overlooking a lovely landscape of hill and dale and woodland. The house is in that best style of architecture and keeping - that which suggests that its inmates are having a good time in it, and mean to use every bit of it for household enjoyment. You come through a quaint little garden, bright with all the nice old-fashioned flowers, and the old house stands back of it, like a good grandmother, with its arms wide open to take you in. A broad veranda of generous proportions leads to the open hall door. Then you come on that great, wide, generous front-hall, wherein they of old time delighted, - a hall wide enough to live in, set out with old-fashioned sofas and ottomans and tables and chairs, with a tall old clock gently ticking away the peaceful hours. From this hall open pleasant rooms in all the four corners; one large charming parlor, whose windows look out on the beautiful hill-and-valley picture below the house. Here you find cozy family rocking chairs and easy chairs, that look as if they may have cuddled generations - chairs, not stiff and new out of upholsterers' shops, but chairs that are used to entertaining, and half-alive with a hospitable tenderness, and that seem to long to have you sit down and rest in them where others have rested before you. At the further end of the hall is a quaint old staircase, leading to an upper hall of the same dimensions with the lower, and on which all the chambers open. This upper hall is set about with couches, and little stands and tables convenient for books and work, and is the undress family reunion room. It opens by a wide window on to the roof of the veranda, which forms an ample and sunny [illegible], and commands a lovely prospect.

Here an ancient couple, old in years, but young in heart, keep tryst and rendezvous for a generation or two of grandchildren and greatgrandchildren, who probably regard it as the veritable Garden of Eden.

Stories of the past grow thick and blossom here in many a tender tradition. Cherry Valley was yet a youthful settlement when the Revolutionary War began, and was made the victim of that insane and unprincipled measure of the then dominant party in England, which did not hesitate to stir up and set upon these infant settlements the wild and bloody ravages of the forest. The valley of the Mohawk was the camping ground of the Six Nations - now melted away, and gone like the night-dews; and in one of their marauding raids they wholly destroyed Cherry Valley, burned the houses, massacred some of the people, and swept others into a bitter captivity.

This peaceful, lovely house, with its flower gardens and bowers of rest, stands right upon one of the spots of these night tragedies. The whole family was murdered, and the house burned to the ground.

It is curious to see how the tragedy and terror and agony of the past, toned down by time and distance, come to add only a softened interest, a charm of romance, to the scenes of to-day. Everywhere in Cherry Valley we are pointed to places and scenes made memorable by these tragedies. In one hospitable mansion, while a gay party were promenading the well-kept grounds, a tree was shown in which it was said the mangled arm of a lady had been found, thrown there by the Indians. The story is told of another woman taken captive, to whom was allotted as her first work the task of stretching and drying the scalps of some of her own kindred who had perished; and another of a woman who, with her three little children, lay under the shelter of a hollow log, while the Indians ran backward and forward over it, filling them with constant horror of discovery. In the grave-yard is the tomb-stone of one who as a boy was with his mother taken captive and carried to Canada, while all the rest of the family were slaughtered. We need to recall these traditions to see how real and how terrible was the Revolutionary struggle of our fathers.

It ought to be in justice remembered, when we think of the barbarity of this movement, that Lord Chatham and William Pitt put all their force against this policy.

In our childhood, we remember, our blood used to boil and our veins tingle when we read in the Columbian Orator the speech of Lord Chatham on the policy of employing the Indians against the colonists of North America, and it is a comfort to know that all of the indignation, wrath, and denunciation that the English language could possibly carry was spent upon the party which perpetrated this inhumanity. It is a pity Lord Chatham's speech has vanished from our reading-books, for it is one of the most splendid specimens of generous, indignant eloquence that the language affords.

Cherry Valley to-day is an innocent, quiet Arcadia, lying within an hour's distance of three of the most fashionable summer watering-places, so that a short ride may bring you in sight of all the pomps and vanities that one may desire to see. Sharon Springs and Richfield now rival Saratoga in attraction, and number their thousand. Cooperstown is another most attractive and much frequented point.

[...]

The hospitality of Cherry Valley is proverbial. Lawn-teas, pic-nics and croquet parties vary the summer days; everybody seems to know everybody, and a stranger is taken in and made to feel at home at once. We have heard that it is still safe to go to sleep there as it was in Litchfield, in our childhood, with outside doors and windows innocently wide open for the moon to shine in. If it be so, we shall not tell of it, lest an army of New York scalawags should take passage at once on the palace-car to Cherry Valley. These palace-cars from Albany to Cherry Valley are in fact no small feature in the attractions of getting there. You don't want to be pounded and squeezed and made a cinder-bank of, so that your own clothes abhor you, in getting to the garden of Eden itself.

This idea seems to have taken possession of the minds of those who are charged with taking you from Albany to Sharon and Cherry Valley, for they provide cars so elegant, and easy, and every way delightful, that it is worth going just to get the ride in them, even if you had no purpose of doing anything more.

One begins to respect one's self when one rides in such luxury, and to consider that one belongs to the royal family of America, and conduct one's self accordingly. Instead of having your eyes put out and your traveling dress soiled with cinders, a wire-gauze window admits light and air, and affords perfect protection.

Ah, well-a-day! These nice palace-cars had but one fault in our eyes. They took us from Cherry Valley as well as to it. We had been there only ten days, and yet such pleasant ones that, as the Irishman said, we were all ready to become a native. And we looked back on its green peaceful retreats with something of a sigh. Why can't we always live in these pleasant places? Why can't all the pleasant people live there just where we can see them every day?

Well, in some other world there will be brighter and better reflections of these lower places, and all those who come shall come to stay, and go no more out forever. Then, in those valleys of greenness, the Good Shepherd shall walk and gather together in one those that are gone, and those that are going, and us that wait and long.

In these summer journeyings we see so many people who are walking in sorrow; so many living, when some great shock, some life-sorrow has cut the nerves of earthly joy, never again to reunite. Well, patience, dear fellow-travelers; if there were not something better than this life for you to turn to, the dear Lord would never have cut the cords that bind you here; but these sorrows are heavenly voices saying to the soul, "Rise up, my love, my fair one, come away, for, lo, the winter is over and past, and the time of singing of birds has come."

[Thanks to Sydney Waller for providing me with a photocopy of this article.]

[dicmondskies]

☆ & * .   ♡   i n t r o d u c t i o n  …    

ODEYA RUSH, SHE/HER / have you ever heard of CAN’T BE TAMED by miley cyrus, well, it describes LONDON SCHNEIDER to a tee! the twenty-four year old, and DRAG CAR RACER was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more stubborn or more DARING instead? anyway, they remind me of fireworks going off at 12am on new years, a daredevil streak, long brown hair tied up in a pink scrunchie forming a neat high ponytail, taking risks, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

this is my wild child london. and yes, her parents were corny enough to name her after the city she was born in and she absolutely hates it. kind of. on one hand she loves the name london, but she would prefer if she didn’t actually live in london on top of that. 

her father is a huge adrenaline junkie who has never had the same job for more than a few months at a time. her home life wasn’t extremely stable because of that, but it worked for their family and london never really complains about her childhood even though it was interesting to say the least.

her mother was someone who had struggled with a personality disorder her whole life and just wasn’t cut out to be a mom. when london was almost two, her mother left in the middle of the night and never returned. london was too young to remember her mom and eventually her new normal was just her and her dad. her aunties and uncles helped out a lot and she looks up to her nana as her mother figure. they are extremely close and her nana is one of the only people she softens up around immediately. she can be her true vulnerable self with her nana, and that’s extremely special to her.

her father was always goofing off and trying stunts and dares on camera that would almost always result in him getting injured somehow. hospital trips were not uncommon for him, and this only further ingrained london’s fearlessness into her personality.

she watched her father do all kinds of insane things and never did he back down to a challenge and that started her own passion for a thrill. she wanted to be just like her daddy. she was a daddy’s girl through and through, wanting to act and be just like him. 

it started with baseball, karate, and even cheerleading. london was an extremely active little girl and had so much energy that she was always wanting to do some kind of sport or extra curricular activity. 

it wasn’t until her dad started dabbling with street racing that she herself started to be interested in racing cars. 

her father was a free spirit and he didn’t really have much structure or rules in his household. he’d bring her along to his dangerous stunts and hobbies and didn’t really understand the impact it would have on his daughter. 

she couldn’t let go of the dreams she had of racing her first car. she talked about it day and night and when she was twelve, he finally bought her a dragster that she called the siren. it was a dream come true for her and the start of her drag racing career. 

london took racing extremely serious, nothing gave her the feeling like being behind the wheel of a car going 100+ miles per hour. and when she started winning, it was like a drug, she was hooked, and she was determined to be the best. 

now, london is considered one of the best drag racers in the country, she hasn’t stopped racing since she was 12 and she doesn’t plan on it anytime soon. she receives sponsorships and makes her money solely off of her racing career.

around town, london is known to always be down for a good time. she’s a thrill seeker and will do anything to feel the rush of adrenaline that her childhood circumnstances exposed her to in her early development. 

her and her dad are still extremely close and he’s slowed down a bit but is still the same fire cracker free spirit ( sometimes wreckless ) guy that he’s always been. he supports her racing career and is at every race, cheering her on and proud that he raised such a fearless and independant daughter.

[kokushiboublackgf]

Tengen, Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru Headcanons with a Black fem s/o

I really like the idea of their Black fem s/o being the lady of the estate.

The four of them already have really risky lives where at any moment they could die so I feel like having another person in the household who they know is safe and sound puts them at ease

But just because you’re not out their slaying demons and shit doesn’t mean you’re at home doing nothing

You’re responsible for managing the budget, you help the other workers at the estate with things like cooking, maintaining the garden, shit like that

You also help Shinobu and the girls at the butterfly estate from time to time especially when Tengen, Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru are on missions

Because you have a lot of knowledge on flowers and herbs you help Shinobu out and Aoi a lot with creating medication and things like that

Okay back to Tengen and his badass wives

They absolutely love dressing you up in the finest silks possible, especially Tengen

Every time he goes shopping he almost always comes home with a new kimono for you, of the finest quality

The girls love it when you adorn your braids with jeweled and bedazzled hair pins

You don’t have access to the same dyes you would use for your tribal makeup or for the designs you would make on your hands and feet but you manage to use alternatives

Suma, precious baby, always likes to watch you apply your dyes and loves to just embrace you and let you know how pretty you are

Cue Makio coming in to drag Suma off of you yelling “You’re messing it up!” but then she’ll turn to you and press a kiss on your head and sheepishly let you know that you look super pretty

Hinatsuru likes to help you with applying your dyes and with doing your hair. After a long hard day of maintaining the estate and taking care of everything while they’re gone she cherishes the moments where she gets to take care of you

She’s learned from watching you do your hair and obviously practicing, to know how to properly detangle your hair, how to twist it for you before going to bed, and she loves putting jewels in your hair

Because you don’t really have any combat skills you watch Makio spar and train with Tengen and you’re like her mini cheerleader

She’ll never admit it but she does blush whenever you embrace her after her training sessions and give her kisses letting her know how proud you are of her

Oh and she secretly loves it when you help her bathe and wash her hair after her training sessions. She feels so taken care of because of you

Tengen has this innate feeling to wanna protect you at all times especially when y’all go out to shop or just relax

He’s protective of all of you but because of the few times when men have had the audacity to try and grab on to you in public he insists that either he come with you if he can or one of the girls accompany you if you’re going out

The last time someone attempted to come off on you Tengen almost killed the mf on your behalf

“So you don’t want me to kill him for ruining your honor?”

“NO! Are you insane????”

But all in all these 4 love you so much and you wouldn’t have it any other way

I lowkey wanna make a series of like one shots or something based off of this.

[absolutepokemontrash]

happy 666! I really want to see some of the brothers arguing over how to 'properly' load the dishwasher / wash clothes / bag groceries / some other mundane thing that most people don't bother having an opinion about (but I do lol) if you're into it! if not, that's cool have a great day and congratulations anyway!! 🎉

👀 I love this- 

Lucifer

Lucifer knows he shouldn’t be getting into arguments with Levi about how to load the trunk of the car but this is getting ridiculous!

No Levi! You cannot just fit the bags in by size and shape, that bag has eggs it can’t be at the bottom- shit.

This argument happens every single time Lucifer gets the groceries and Levi is forced to come, all because Levi wants to play Tetris and doesn’t realize that Lucifer’s way of loading the car is 100% superior no questions asked.

MC needs to back him up. MC? MCCCC? He’s waiting.

Whatever. No one go near him when he’s stocking the fridge. He’ll kill someone if they put something in the wrong drawer or shelf.

What a drama king 🙄

Mammon

This man does not vacuum correctly according to Satan and it drives him insane.

Mammon’s obviously doing it right though because he’s vacuuming and… leaving.

All he needs to do is vacuum, alright?! He even went under the couch that time! What do ya mean he needs sweep before and then mop after?!

Apparently according to Satan, cleaning the entire living room does not just mean straightening some baubles and vacuuming. He needs to dust the surfaces too apparently.

He’s going to try and pawn off his duties on whatever poor sap next walks through the door- oh! Human! Hold this vacuum!

Only good thing about cleanin’ is that he might find some cool things to swipe- Ah shit hi Lucifer-

Leviathan:

With how meticulous Levi is when he cleans and sanitizes his figurines and other anime merch, one would expect him to be well versed in the side effects of improper air circulation when dealing with cleaning supplies.

But NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

No no no no no, when Levi cleans the bathroom, the door stays closed. This really worries Beel.

Beel is constantly telling him, “the fumes of the cleaning supplies will make you sick :( keep the door open.” But Levi hates the idea of being perceived, so he keeps it closed.

To Beel, all the windows, vents, and doors need to be open during cleaning time. To Levi, he’d rather suffocate because he accidentally mixed chemicals and made chlorine gas.

He may die, but it’s whatever. The bathroom is still getting cleaned! Sure, some of the fumes got in his eyes and now his eyelids are grossly swelled up, but he’s not going to give Beel a victory.

Satan

Asmo is supposed to be separating the darks and the lights! What the hell is he doing?!

Satan is constantly nagging everyone to separate their clothes, but I guess everyone just wants their lights to get stained in the dryer or whatever the fuck happens when you don’t separate the colours!

Asmo makes a snide remark about how Lucifer said the same thing, and Satan seriously debates jumping ship and joining Team Don’t Separate.

He decides against it and continues to nag, he nags to the point of Asmo throwing up his hands and walking away, leaving the laundry to Satan.

Great… nagging wins him an extra chore… wooooooooooo…

Asmodeus

Everything has its own place and everything needs to be neat and tidy! Asmo’s attitude on cleanliness makes Mammon want to pitch over and hurl.

Asmo’s tried just everything to get his scummy big brother to keep his room clean, but Mammon claims that it is clean.

Ugh! News flash! Knowing where everything is does not make it clean!

Asmo’s tried the Marie Kondo thing, but apparently everything Mammon owns sparks joy, so nothing got tossed out.

Tsk, Asmo’s going to have an aneurism if he needs to take another look into Mammon’s stupid, smelly, gross, disorganized, disgusting, awful-

*several minutes later*

-Tasteless, brain dead, room!

Beelzebub

But Asmo… this is how Beel does dishes… he licks them clean… what do you mean that’s unsanitary?

Oh shit Beel just swallowed a fork- maybe Asmo has a point here.

Thing is, after hearing Asmo’s concerns about germs, Beel legitimately tries to not lick the plates but, there’s food residue on there! He can’t just let that go to waste!

Mmmm… food residue…

It gets to the point to where the entire house decided that Beel should not be trusted to do the dishes. The possibility of Beel getting everyone sick was just too strong…

Beel is sad to lose one of the chores he was really good at :( the rest of the house sure as wasn’t.

Belphegor

Bro TF? He doesn’t do things. And this gets everyone on his case.

“Belphie, why haven’t you done your chores?” “Belphie, why haven’t you unloaded the dishwasher?” “Belphie, why haven’t you vacuumed your bedroom?” “Belphie why haven’t you gotten off the couch in four days?”

You know, the usual shit.

Belphie is a necessary part of the household ecosystem because everyone needs to gang up on someone to feel like more of a team, and for once the scapegoat isn’t Mammon.

At least Mammon vacuums… Belphie just looks at the vacuum and tries to use the force.

It never works by the way.

With his little sibling privileges though, he rarely gets punished for shirking his duties… the little shit.

——————

This was actually super fun to do, thanks for requesting!!

[robininthelabyrinth]

I'm pretty sure this is prompt four. Jiang Cheng/Qin Su - Jin Rusong as heir to Lotus Pier

ao3

Jiang Cheng heard the news in pieces, scraps of wild rumor and gossip repeated a hundred times over, but he still refused to believe it until he actually saw the official announcement.

Jin Guangyao had divorced his wife and sent her back to her father’s house, along with their son.

“Is he insane?” Jiang Cheng asked his second in command, who only shrugged helplessly. “Putting aside the fact that I’m certain that he loves her madly, putting everything else aside, Sect Leader Qin is influential and powerful, and a strong supporter of his father – no matter what happened between them, surely someone as pleasant and compromising as Jin Guangyao could find a way to work it out?”

Jiang Cheng had only met Qin Su a few times, always at Jin Guangyao’s side. He’d heard about how she’d fallen for the dashing young man that turned out to be Jin Guangyao and sworn to marry him, no matter the obstacles; he’d heard how they’d managed to overcome every storm, fight the wind and rain, and eventually made it to their marriage bed.

They’d even had a son together, little Jin Rusong; he was Jin Ling’s best playmate.

And Jin Guangyao was kicking him out? Kicking her out?

Absurd!

Who did he think he was?

And yet, contrary to Jiang Cheng’s expectations, Sect Leader Qin did not immediately explode, or, rather, within a few days, he did, but not in the way anyone had expected. Everyone had joked that he would find Jin Guangyao and strangle him, and he really did physically attack someone – but not Jin Guangyao.

He attacked Jin Guangshan instead.

It was as if he’d gone mad, red-eyed like Nie Mingjue in the throes of his qi deviation; he’d charged at Jin Guangshan, his old friend of thirty years or more, right in the middle of Jinlin Tower, and swiped at him viciously with his sword, cutting a gash in his chest as the surprised Jin sect leader darted back too slowly to wholly dodge.

What could be done? The Lanling Jin sect guards could not stand silently by with such provocation – they counter-attacked at once, and Sect Leader Qin did not survive. A little later, and it was discovered that he had never intended on it: his sword was laced with poison.

Sect Leader Qin died, but he took Jin Guangshan down with him the underworld.

The rumor mill exploded.

Everyone was talking about Sect Leader Qin’s motivations – the suspicious timing of the divorce – Jin Guangyao’s now inevitable ascension to the seat of Sect Leader Jin –

Only Jiang Cheng thought about Qin Su, who should have been ascending right beside him. It had been her father that had died, after all.

Laoling Qin was far enough away from Lanling Jin that they were still mostly independent, and they were close enough to the Qinghe Nie that Jiang Cheng could pretend that he’d only made a short detour on a visit directed towards Nie Huaisang, that notorious purveyor of gossip; luckily enough, Nie Huaisang remembered their old friendship and was more than happy to help cover his tracks.

When Jiang Cheng arrived, the house was already decked out in mourning. Qin Su greeted him, eyes red and swollen from tears.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng said awkwardly, then flinched when he realized he probably should have said something in greeting first – they really didn’t know each other well enough to skip over all that.

Nevertheless, Qin Su nodded, forgiving him the slip-up before he could even retract it. She was gracious and gentle, kind and quiet, economical and thoughtful – a consummate hostess. The wife of Jin Guangyao could not afford to be anything less.

Former wife.

Jiang Cheng’s gaze danced around the room, searching for something to say, and then abruptly he noticed – “There are two deaths in your household?”

“My mother took her own life,” Qin Su said, her voice dull. She tried to suppress it, but tears gathered in her eyes again. “Shortly before…”

Whatever it was that Jin Guangshan had done that had driven Sect Leader Qin mad, it had involved his wife, Jiang Cheng thought, and then abruptly he turned pale as he put two and two together. He’d never doubted that Jin Guangyao had adored Qin Su, so why would he divorce her?

Unless…

Jin Guangshan had a reputation.

Qin Su laughed a little, a bitter sound. “Everyone will know, soon enough,” she said wisely, seeing that Jiang Cheng had figured it out. “I don’t blame my former husband at all; he acted as he ought to in every respect. It’s only my poor A-Song…I can’t imagine what his life will be like from now on.”

Jiang Cheng looked helplessly at her. To lose not only your parents, one right after the other, but your husband, your reputation, and next even your son…

“Marry me,” he said suddenly, and Qin Su stared at him. “If Sect Leader Jin’s assault were recent rather than ancient, it would have provoked the same result. The only reason anyone might suspect the truth is because of the timing of your divorce – if there’s a reason given for that, people won’t think twice about it.”

His words had come out all in a rush, smashing together like stones tossed around by a waterfall; he hadn’t thought of the idea until right this moment.

“Are you suggesting I admit to adultery?” she asked. Her eyes were as round as the full moon.

Jiang Cheng shrugged, a little helpless. “Your reputation is gone,” he pointed out, wishing he knew how to be kind or tactful. “Adultery or incest – it’s the same either way for you. But for A-Song…”

To be the son of an adulterous woman was disgraceful, but such things happened and people generally looked the other way, as long as the real father was powerful enough.

It was better than being a child of incest.

“But what of your reputation?” she asked. “Sect Leader Jiang, you can’t. I won’t let you injure yourself for my sake.”

“Not for you,” he said, though maybe it was, just a little bit. The loss of your parents, the loss of your whole life, everything you’d ever believed – who could understand that better than him? “For A-Song. He’s Jin Ling’s best friend.”

Qin Su had always been kind to Jin Ling, he thought. She didn’t need to be, could just tolerate him the way most people in Jinlin Tower did, but she really seemed to like him…

It occurred to him suddenly that Qin Su met all of his requirements for a bride: a beauty from a good family, obedient, economical, with a mild personality who wasn’t too loud and wasn’t too talkative, who was good to Jin Ling…

“How’s your cultivation?” he asked abruptly. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Mediocre,” she said, blinking at him. “And I’m better at baking, I think. I like making sweets.”

“Good,” Jiang Cheng said, relieved. “That’s – good. I’m glad. Will you marry me?”

Qin Su bit her lip. “Let me think about it?”

Thoughtful, he added to the list. Cautious, not reckless.

“Take all the time you need,” he said.

She came back to him two shichen later. “What happens to A-Song?” she asked.

“I’ll adopt him as my own,” Jiang Cheng said. “Or he can keep the surname Jin, if you prefer. And if Lianfeng-zun agrees, which I think he will – it’s his birthright, after all.” Too many times over. “Jin Ling lives with me sometimes; they can grow up as cousins, the way they should.”

Qin Su nodded, lips trembling a little. “You won’t regret this?”

“I might,” Jiang Cheng admitted. “But I’m probably not going to marry anyone else, and I’m willing. Are you?”

“I am,” she said, and smiled at him. Her eyes were still red, and the smile shaky, but it was something. “Thank you. I…no, never mind.”

“If we’re going to be married, you’re going to need to learn to ask things of me,” he reminded her.

Qin Su wiped her eyes. “Yes, but there’s asking reasonable things, and then there’s asking to alert my former husband before we announce our engagement.”

“Oh, no, that’s a great idea,” Jiang Cheng said, immediately relieved. “If there’s one thing Lianfeng-zun knows, it’s how to manage an announcement of that sort of magnitude. We should definitely tell him.”

Qin Su’s smile this time was stronger.

Nie Huaisang pulled a few strings and got Jin Guangyao to come over to the Unclean Realm, and when he walked in and saw Qin Su, he flinched. Jiang Cheng could see on his face that he still loved her, and he felt bad for him – not enough to stop, but still.

“I see,” Jin Guangyao said, hearing the plan. His expression was surprisingly neutral – thoughtful, but not as upset as Jiang Cheng would have expected. “It’s not a bad idea. And you don’t even need to admit to adultery, either.”

“We don’t?” Jiang Cheng asked, surprised.

“We can say that my marriage with A-Su broke down after my father’s actions - painting them as recent, rather than ancient,” Jin Guangyao explained. “I didn’t feel I could oppose him, she had no choice but to do so – it was an irrevocable breach. You came to comfort her, having met her during your visits with Jin Ling, and her sect is in need of support…you can say it developed naturally from there. It might not work to quell the rumors, of course, but it would at least provide a way to save face in public…Leave it to me.”

“Thank you, A-Yao,” Qin Su said quietly, and he smiled at her, pained.

“Just be happy,” he said to her, then looked at Jiang Cheng. “Treat her well.”

“I will,” Jiang Cheng promised, and took her by the hand. “I swear.”

-

It was a few years later. Nie Huaisang sat beside Jiang Cheng.

“I think he killed my brother,” he said, playing with his fan. “I’m going to destroy him.”

Jiang Cheng stared at the newest memorial tablet in the Lotus Pier, his hands clenched into fists with knuckles turned white.

“Good,” he said, voice savage. “I’ll help.”

[free-pool-trash]

lip gloss - peter maximoff

Request: Hello! I absouletly love your writing❤️❤️ I was wondering if I could ask for something steamy with Peter Maximoff. I’m not sure how steamy you feel comfortable writing for, but if you do smut can peter have a praising kink and be kinda cocky. If you doing write smut can I request a make out session with WandaVision Peter, like Pete and reader are the only ones home and things get spicy on the kitchen counter. Thank you so much for writing!!

hi anon!!!! Thank you so much 🥺❤️ can i just say i love both of these concepts and i absolutely think that peter has a the biggest praise kink but due to the fact that im a fat ✨virgin✨ im gonna do the second option for now!!! I’ll work on the other one and see how it goes though 👀👀👀

word count: 1.2K

warnings; this is a lil steamy but it’s not quite smut, making out, insinuations of sexy times <3

masterlist

WestView was your typical suburban town. Quiet, uneventful and perfectly boring. That was, until he arrived.

Pietro-or Peter- Maximoff. He was the exact opposite of the town he’d just strolled into. The boy was loud, fast paced and oh so very exciting.

His sister, Wanda, was a good friend of yours. You’d known her since you literally couldn’t remember when and when Peter showed up, the pair of you clicked instantly, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Almost as if some celestial force had put the pair of you together on purpose.

It was a fairly standard Tuesday night in the Maximoff household. Wanda and Vision were out for their weekly date night, leaving yourself and Peter, as he insisted he preferred to be called, to babysit the twins.

The two young boys absolutely adored their uncle, he never ceased to impress them with his speed and childlike behaviour, but that wasn’t to say that the speedster could outdo you though.

You’d been babysitting the boys since they’d seemingly manifested out of nowhere and they loved you, it’d become a competition between you and Peter to see who Billy and Tommy preferred at any given moment.

But with competition came a lot of tension. There was nothing you enjoyed more than pushing Peter’s buttons and in his eyes there was nothing sweeter than watching your jaw clench after he got on your very last nerve.

At the moment the four of you were snuggled up in the living room watching a movie on the fuzzy square screen, boxy TV set. Tommy sat on the floor, close to the TV while yourself, Peter and Billy were cozy on the sofa. Billy had snuggled into your side, his head resting against your stomach and his little eyes becoming droopy as the movie drew to a close. Peter sat on the other side of his nephew, his arm resting on the back of the couch and his eyes set on you and the shyer twin. You looked so domestic, your eyes trained on the tv while your arms held the young boy securely against you. Peter didn’t know why but he felt a slight pang of jealousy toward Billy in that moment, god what he’d give to have your arms wrapped around him.

The cogs in Peter’s head turned slowly as an idea formed in his head, a sly grin making its way to his lips. Casually, he dropped his arm from the back of the couch and let it rest against your shoulders. The grin only broadened when you turned to look at him, your eyebrow raised, your own lips formed into an almost knowing smirk. You were driving him insane. Without so much as a word, you turned your attention back to the tv, completely ignoring the fact that the speedster had begun tracing shapes against your arm. He was driving you crazy but you’d never let him know that, disregarding the fluttering feeling in your stomach when his fingers walked up and down the skin of your arm.

Thankfully, the movie ended after a few more minutes and Peter had taken on the grewling task of putting the twins to bed while you cleaned up in the kitchen. You were wiping down the kitchen island when Peter walked in, leaning his body against the counter opposite, his signature cheeky look adorning his face.

“I think Billys got a crush on you. Looks like I’ve got some competition.” He told you somewhat airly, his mind too focused on the way your body was leaning over the counter as you moved the cloth against the counter top and he contemplated what it would be like to be pressed up behind you in that moment.

The small giggle that left your lips shook him from his thoughts that were growing dirtier by the second, “What? Is someone getting a little jealous?” You asked teasingly, jutting your lip out into a pout. His eyes watched you intently as you made your way around the kitchen island, when you were within arms reach of Peter you hopped up on the counter, admittedly enjoying how utterly zoned in on you his eyes were.

“Cat got your tongue, Maximoff?” You prodded when he remained silent. At your words he stepped forward and placed his hands on both of your knees, gently pushing them apart and stepping into the space he just created between your legs. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying your best to ignore the heat that was rising within you when his hands slid from your knees, all the way up your thighs until they finally settled on gripping your hips.

With a wicked grin your let your arms slide around his neck, pulling him flush against you, Peter let out a heavy groan that had your stomach doing flips. The man in question ghosted his lips against your jaw, slowly dragging them up painfully slowly, only stopping once they were hovering against your ear.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, y’know that?” As soon as the words passed his lips, his attention had returned to your jaw. He was placing wet, open mouth kisses along your jaw, moving smoothly to your neck as he simultaneously pulled you closer by the hips, his crotch pressing against yours as you let out a quiet moan.

Moving your hands to his silver hair you gave the strands a soft tug, pulling another groan from his lips and forcing him to look you in the eye. His usually gentle eyes were darkened with lust and the way he gazed at you made the hair at the back of your neck stand and your stomach to drop with anticipation. “Kiss me.” You demanded, staring at him with the same lustful gaze he was giving you.

Peter practically lunged at you then, his lips crashing against yours for a bruising kiss, his tongue quickly finding its way into your mouth and you let of a slight gasp of approval when his hands squeezed your ass, the speedster pulling your legs to wrap around his waist as he kissed you desperately.

You couldn’t help but whine when he suddenly pulled away, his hands running up and down your sides adoringly as he took in your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. “You’re gorgeous.” He stated, so sure of himself that it caused a bright smile to pull across your swollen lips.

“So are you,” You giggled back, brushing your thumb against his bottom lip and turning it to show him the lip gloss that had transferred onto him during the searing kiss you just shared, “This colour looks pretty on you, Pete.” You teased, shooting him a wink as he raised an eyebrow at you, pulling you impossibly closer as he whispered his next words as if he just knew they’d have you crumbling at his feet.

“How about when Wanda gets back… you and I head back to your place and see how pretty that lip gloss of yours would look smeared all over somewhere other than my lips?” His eyebrows moved suggestively and his lips formed a shit eating grin when your mouth fell slack at his suggestion.

All you knew was that Wanda couldn’t get home soon enough.

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

-Being The Duke’s Assistant- (3)

(a/n: some people really like this fic lol so here’s another chapter for y’all! also if you want a chapter 4 then please comment and reblog! otherwise I won’t have the motivation to keep writing more! thank you! <3)

–

-Learning About The Lords-

–

You’d seen more of your ex-neighbors since your run in with Vasile Kazloŭ the week previous. Seems word got around the village that you’d not in fact frozen to death or been caught and dragged into the woods by some snarling beast. And you knew a good few of them were just stopping by the Duke’s carriage under the guise of shopping just to see if those rumors were true. Not that you particularly cared what your ex-neighbors did now. If seeing you for whatever reason got them to buy something from the Duke then no skin off your nose. 

But today was different. Today the Duke said he’d be educating you on his biggest trade deals. Such deals being the Four Lords of the village. You’ll admit you gulped at hearing that. The four lords were quite notorious to the people of the village. And not for anything good despite what the fanatics would like to think..

Lady Dimitrescu, the mysterious lady who ruled the imposing castle upon the mountain that takes young women in to work but never lets them leave again. There’s a saying in the village that if a girl you know is going to work at Castle Dimitrescu then you should shower her in kisses since you’ll never see her again.

Lady Beneviento, the mysterious veiled doll maker who lives in a shadowy haunted manor that makes all those who enter there see their deceased family members. Seeing visions of the dead drives all who enter there to insanity. Most never leave, but the few who do are never the same as they were upon entering.

Lord Moreau, the monstrous looking recluse who controls the giant killer fish that has swallowed whole more than its fair share of poor fishermen of the village. It terrorized the workers at the Reservoir, devouring men like fish until they’d had enough and abandoned the site. It now sits in decay, waiting for the next fool to wander in.

Lord Heisenberg, the lord who owns the cryptic factory on the very edge of the village, where all the dead villagers bodies are sent and never seen again. Rumor has it that it used to be a coal mine but nobody living from the village has set foot in the rusted structure in decades. But despite this the factory’s smokestacks constantly billow dark soot into the sky.

Every villager knew of the four Lords. 

But apparently you were going to be learning more detail on them. Which you admit to not having much of. All you knew is what most every other villager knew. To be wary, be respectful, to pay your tributes, and do not draw attention to yourself otherwise. Those that drew attention were quite often known to draw their last breath.

The Duke it seemed was on good terms with each of the lords, at least you assumed so since he talked about them quite candidly. Not whispering their names in a hushed tone or with any amount of fearful reverence. Actually he talked about them as if they were just fellow business partners he has evening tea with. Which... well as far as you knew, could very well be the truth. But despite the Duke’s blasé outlook you felt yourself tense up when he mentioned how, as his assistant, you would be accompanying him on his future meetings with them, so it was best he told you about them now so you didn’t go in blind. Part of you wanted to just avoid that by not even going into the same building as the four lords. But the Duke squashed that thought by saying he couldn’t very well leave you to sit and twiddle your thumbs in the carriage while he was inside. 

Which you supposed you should have seen coming. You were his assistant after all. Where he goes, you go. It’s your whole job. So you steeled your resolve and took solace in knowing that while under the Duke’s protection you would be fine. you weren’t some random villager now thankfully. But even still... seeing the towering Castle Dimitrescu looming in the distance made you queasy. Your mind swam with the stories you’d been told as a child, warning you of what laid in that castle. The carriage drew closer to the imposing structure but you remained straight faced, not wanting to reveal how anxious you were. Plus, if you were being honest? This was all pretty exciting in a way! You’d left the village years ago sure, met lots of new people while you studied abroad. You learned about all the goings on of the world outside your simple village. But all of that paled in comparison to getting to meet the Four Lords.

You hoped you didn’t embarrass yourself..

-0-

While you got closer to the castle the Duke told you about the first Lord, Lady Dimitrescu and House Dimitrescu. Apparently they were famous for their incredible wine. The Duke even admitted to having a bottle of it himself stored away in the back. “For special occasions,” he told you with a smile. You also learned that House Dimitrescu also had their own vineyard where they grew all the grapes that went into the wine they made. He also revealed that there was a ‘rumor’ that Lady Dimitrescu had a very special bottle of wine in her possession, one that has belonged to her family for generations, that was called Sanguis Virginis. And its literal translation is "maiden's blood". The Duke was a touch vague on the wine, but he said that Alcina Dimitrescu has a secret process that enriches the wine’s flavor and gives it a thick bouquet. 

After that he began talking about the second Lord, Lady Beneviento and House Beneviento. The Duke spoke with a sad tone here, saying the Beneviento family slowly fell apart a long time ago. One by one the family members disappeared. And the current head of the household, Donna Beneviento, had a sister when she was a child, Claudia. But Claudia grew ill and passed away, causing her parents to grow depressed and soon after take their own lives, leaving poor Donna alone. The Duke knows Donna to be very kind, but also very lonely. She’s an incredibly skilled doll maker, even better than her father had been when he was alive. But she has trouble speaking with people without the aid of the doll friend, Angie, that her father gifted her as a little girl. He warned you that Angie could be a bit of a troublemaker, chuckling as he did.

Then came the third Lord, Salvatore Moreau of House Moreau. You raised an eyebrow when you noticed the small hint of revulsion in the Duke’s voice as he spoke about this lord. It seems that Moreau was... an odd one. The Duke tried to speak kindly of the man but even he, with his usual jovial outlook, couldn’t hide the slight way he cringed as he explained Moreau’s history. It seemed he had been a sailor at some point, and the very last of his family line, but some years ago he’d... changed physically to the point where he avoided people. He hid himself at the Reservoir his family owned and scarcely stepped foot outside of it. And after one too many... accidents there the workers abandoned the place, leaving Moreau alone to wallow in his self pity. The Duke warned you that Moreau did not look... human. And he asked you to please not stare at the man. He wouldn’t appreciate it, surely.

And then the final Lord, Karl Heisenberg of House Heisenberg. The Duke warned you that despite Lord Heisenberg’s rather casual sounding attitude, the man was quite harsh. And his factory was incredibly dangerous. He warned you to never stray from his side while there, for your own safety. You gulped but nodded as he continued. It seems the Heisenberg factory was a coal mining factory. You discovered that the Lord was an engineer, but the Duke revealed that he’d been known to tinker with things other than machines as well. That ominous note made your stomach drop. But you felt your anxiety lift a bit when the Duke told you that he was Lord Heisenberg’s supplier for a certain machine part he needs in bulk, so the man knew not to upset him. So you would be fine.

“But I think we’ll have to cut our conversation short, it seems we’ve arrived at Castle Dimitrescu,” the Duke said in a cheery tone you weren’t matching.

‘For any god listening to me... let us be alright,’ you thought helplessly.

-0-

[matildashoney]

𝙸 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎? // 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚊𝚢

𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂 // 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 // 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚁: 𝙱𝙸𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙰𝚁 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁, 𝙰𝙽𝚇𝙸𝙴𝚃𝚈

𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 @theharriediaries , @meetmymouth , @hunflowers​ 𝚊𝚗𝚍 @truckerhatharry 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚊-𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝚒'𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

Harry’s jaw nearly breaks from how hard he’s clenching his teeth together, right now, trying desperately to control his emotions, his hormones, and his voice while he and Caroline have at it, yet again. Harry believes it to be a miracle that they get along nearly a third of the time, the other two-thirds very much consisting of petty arguments like the one that they’re having, right now. Outbursts like these are common in the Styles-Ryan Household, especially since they’ve not been apart for three weeks and four days – not that she is counting at all – and Harry is driving Caroline insane. More insane than she already is, according to her.

Harry hates when she says that, and yet, she does, every single day.

“Harry, you’re unbelievable!” Caroline says, smacking her hands against her bare thighs like a child in a tantrum and walking towards the edge of the bed where Harry’s ankles are crossed, where he is laying comfortably against their headboard, and taking his feet and throwing his legs off the side of the bed. Harry lays dramatically on his side, refusing to stand. “Get out of bed, Harry! I’m not letting you miss your bachelor party. That’s final.”

“Oh, that’s final?” Harry mimics, breathing out a laugh and shaking his head, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Caroline through hooded lids, his nostrils flaring with his anger as she stands with his knees touching her thighs, her hands reaching for his and wiggling her fingers dramatically to try and grab his hands and pull him upright, at least. “Caroline, I don’t want to go, and you can’t make me. That’s what’s final.”

“God, you’re so difficult,” she huffs frustratedly, turning on her heel and walking towards their wardrobe, leaning over to take her platforms – that he loves on her body – and zip the backing on her heel. Clad in his favorite dress, she, along with their friends, have designed everything perfectly for the evening if he would just get up and get ready. Harry’s left Caroline with no choice, but to yank out the toxicity card – as Caroline likes to call it, Harry hates it, though. “Fine, Harry. If that’s what you want, stay home without me.”

“Hold on a second, Cal.” Harry narrows his eyes, knowing that Caroline isn’t quite finished. There’s no way she’s leaving the conversation alone this easily. Contrary to what she believes though, Harry would prefer not to argue about it, so he stands and walks over to her, kisses her cheek and smiles at her graciously. “Thank you.” Caroline looks at him with her pretty brown eyes and smiles, shrugging her shoulders and walking towards her vanity in the corner of the room, sitting on the bench and reaching for the tube of lipstick ready to be worn on her skin. “Are you still going, Callie? I thought–”

“Shakespeare, you’re the one having an issue. Obviously, it’s not me,” Caroline hums the interruption, shaking her head and patting the lipstick with her thumb to make sure that it’s perfectly marking her mouth. “Guess I’ll have to go by myself. Manic and all that. Ugh, that’s such a shame, too, isn’t it? Quite a shame that I have to go out, by myself, to a bar, with all our friends, and get drunk and dance without my fiancé because he’s being a baby about going out, tonight.”

“Callie,” Harry says warningly, shaking his head and gently squeezing her shoulder as he stands behind her in the mirror. “Quit it. Don’t say that when you know how it makes me feel. Cross that boundary and we’ll have a bigger argument on our hands.”

“Ugh!” Caroline groans and knocks her head against her neck dramatically, running her fingers through her hair and letting the curls cascade down her back, the singular braid where her part meets her scalp adding what she likes to call ‘character’ to her look for the evening. “Harry, I’m only saying these things because they’re true. Technically, the mania cycle has started. Technically, you’re being a child about going out. Technically, I’ll have to go and get drunk by myself because you won’t come with me. All the things I’ve said are true, whether you’d like to admit it or not.”

Harry knows that Caroline’s right, which infuriates him even more so. Caroline is right – as much as he hates to admit it – simply because of the fact that their argument technically began while in the shower together when Harry said that he wouldn’t be going out, tonight. Harry refused to discuss it further when Caroline stepped out and wrapped herself in her robe – the one that she loves so dearly that he bought her for the holidays – and she looked at him with wide eyes, as though he had grown three heads in the midst of their conversation. Caroline, technically, is right, but that doesn’t mean that the manipulation of saying things to get under Harry’s skin is any more right or just.

“Cal, you’re saying these things to get under my skin,” Harry says affirmatively, as though he knows without a shadow of a doubt – which he does – and his eyes narrow at Caroline in the mirror. “That’s not right. Tell me, what would Kate say if you said you were going out, tonight.”

“Kate agreed that it would be good for us to see somewhere other than the eight walls we see every day between the bookstore and our apartment.”

Of course, Kate said that, Harry wants to say. Kate doesn’t see you every day, she doesn’t know how scary it was to find you that day. Of course, Kate thinks it’s better for you to go out and not stay where you’re safe with me.

“Harry, I know that I’m safe when I’m with you,” Caroline says, dragging Harry out of his thoughts and into reality. “That’s why I’d like you to come, if for no other reason than to make sure I stay safe. ‘Course, you can mope and whine and complain the entire time, if you’d like, but I would like to have you there. Bachelor and Bachelorette parties are something we can only do once. That’s not something we get to have back.” Caroline looks at Harry and narrows her eyes before saying, “’Cause obviously you can’t divorce me, so you’ll only get one.”

“Can it, Callie.” Caroline laughs at that. Harry would never think about divorcing Caroline, especially not after everything they’ve been through, so the comment alone is always enough to annoy him, and she knows it. That’s the perk of being in love with someone that’s neurotypical, she would say, their things that annoy them are always the same, whereas she is something different every day. “Fine, fine. I’ll come. I’m not happy about it, though.”

Caroline kisses Harry’s cheek and frowns when a lipstick stain is left on his skin, her thumb rubbing at the maroon tint gently and then squeezing his shoulders in a hug. Harry’s arms immediately wrap around her waist and he’s nearly cleared of his annoyance, enough to smack her backside – all in good nature – playfully and let out a laugh. Caroline squeaks and pinches his hip, earning a perfect smile from Harry and a shine of his dimpled cheeks. “Get dressed and let’s go. Today’s the one day I’d rather not be late.”

* *

Harry’s hand is tight in Caroline’s as they walk towards the front door, the light outside flickering on and a bustle of commotion coming from the inside of the townhouse. There are at least three or four cars that are not Niall and Liv’s stacked in the driveway, all huddled close together to try and prevent parking on the street. Caroline squeezes Harry’s hand, and she smiles at him softly, kissing his cheek once more – without any tint of her lipstick left behind, this time – and knocks on the front door, waiting for either Niall or Liv to answer. Caroline smirks when Harry squeezes her hand back, wrapping their arms around her shoulder and bringing her into his chest and kissing her head lightly, comfortingly, and she knows that he’s no longer angry with her.

Niall’s townhouse apartment is only a few blocks south of where Harry and Caroline made a home. Liv and Niall can afford a bigger place, with Niall working at the publishing house and Liv working at one of the biggest magazines in the city, and it’s nice. Harry is happy for his friends, his best friends, and yet still feels the twinge of jealousy that he can’t give more to his fiancée than his best friend can give to his girlfriend. Harry’s guttural reaction is to feel this jealousy, this hindrance to his pride, his ego, and there’s something about it that makes him feel ill. Caroline would remind him that she loves their little hole in the wall, as she calls it, their little safe space. Callie and I will have more someday, someday soon, Harry reminds himself, shaking his head and tucking his nose in Caroline’s hair as they wait for the door to swing open and their friends to greet their arrival.

Naturally, Caroline and Harry are late. They’re always late.

“Callie!” Niall shouts from the foyer when the door swings open and his arms wide open for a gracious introductory hug. “Harry, long time no see, mate! Callie hasn’t been able to drag you out of the house in a month!”

Niall must be drunk already, Harry assumes, shaking his head and laughing as he steps inside the house and hugs his best friend tightly. Although, Niall is right; it’s been nearly a month since Harry has seen anyone but Caroline and the two other workers at the bookstore beneath their apartment. Harry hasn’t wanted to see anyone, to face reality. Living in a bubble of distance has been nice for a while, but Caroline is surely getting tired of it. “Things have been tough! Leave me alone!”

Niall looks side to side, as though to make sure that Caroline is gone and their privacy is ensured. Caroline’s voice is travelling through the tiny walkway into the kitchen, Liv already chatting with her about things that make no sense to Niall and Harry and Mitch joining in their conversation. “Is Callie okay? Only go into hiding like that when Cal isn’t doing so great.”

Harry sighs, pulling his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, nodding cautiously, peering around the corner to get a glimpse of what his fiancée is doing and smiling slightly to himself at the sight of her, smiling and giggling with their friends and enjoying her time out already. Maybe this is good for her, for us. “Callie wasn’t doing great for a while. I wanted to stay home, where I could keep an eye on her and keep her safe. Things were scary, there, for a while, and you know what? Despite every single time I’ve tried to deny it, I can’t, I can’t be without her. She’s my everything. I have to do what I have to do to keep her safe and happy and healthy.”

“We know, Harry.” Niall smiles, and Harry knows it’s a pitying smile, but it’s a smile, nonetheless – a smile that Harry hasn’t seen in nearly a month that he’s missed dearly. “Come on, before Mitch thinks we’ve lost our shit, out here.”

“There’s the man of the hour!” Mitch calls from the barstool next to Liv, immediately grabbing Harry’s attention and bringing a genuine smile to his features. Harry realizes, then, that he hasn’t smiled once since they arrived nearly ten minutes ago.

“There you are!” Caroline smiles, nearly jumping into Harry’s chest and slinging her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek and smiling brightly at him.

Harry swears he hasn’t seen her this happy in months, likely since their engagement six months ago, and he’s beginning to think that keeping her away from their friends might’ve been more harmful than beneficial in her recovery. Guilt is always on Harry’s brain, lately.

Caroline leans onto her toes and grabs his cheeks to ensure his attention, her sweet, honey eyes making his heart speed up in his chest. “You know, I was beginning to think you left me and went home, Shakespeare.”

“Never,” Harry smiles softly, leaning towards her and pecking her lips, smirking when a slight blush creeps onto her cheeks. He kisses her temple and wraps his arm around her waist, settling at the curve of her hip. “Can’t get rid of me that quickly. Can’t get rid of me at all, but especially not when you’ve promised me a night of dancing and drinking.”

Caroline raises her eyebrows suggestively. “At all? That’s a staggering promise when the divorce rate for significant others where one partner has bipolar disorder is nearly one hundred percent.”

Of course, Caroline would know that, Harry says to himself, rolling his eyes and patting her backside playfully. “Cal, since you know this fact off the top of your head, I’m assuming you also know that there is a ten percent part of that statistic for partners that don’t get divorced, which will be you and myself, as far as I’m concerned. Honestly, I’m not all that concerned.”

Caroline’s lack of response, at first, makes Harry chuckle. Her eyes narrow slightly, and her lips turn into a devilish smirk and she leans onto her toes to whisper, “Confidence looks good on you, Harry,” she says, kissing his jaw and reaching around his back for her drink on the counter, a condensation ring wetting the rim of the glass. “Find it very sexy.”

Harry shakes his head and shuts his eyes, trying to ignore the way her hand has shifted slightly to lay on the curve of his back and his trousers feel slightly tighter. Caroline knows what she’s doing, she always does. “Cut it out, Caroline. Our friends are around.” Caroline shrugs her shoulders and giggles, the quiet laugh that makes his heart swell in his chest and feel loved by her. Her hand squeezes his waist before taking a sip of her drink and she looks at her best friend, as if they’ve already talked about how to get him to loosen the reigns a bit. “Okay, okay, you’ve got me out of the house, finally. Anyone care to tell me what we’re doing tonight?”

Clapping a hand onto Harry’s shoulder, Niall grins smugly and says, “Mate, we’re taking you out and getting you absolutely plastered.”

“Wonderful,” Harry says dryly, a breathy laugh passing through his lips and his eyes trading from the drink shoved into his hand – tequila, no doubt – to his fiancée, who is already getting clingy with her best friend and talking about how much she’s missed her. “Haven’t seen you all in almost a month and there are no stories to tell? I’d hate to say that I’m almost insulted.”

Mitch scoffs and shakes his head, “One month without you around, barely talking to us, and you think there are no stories to tell? I didn’t fly out from California to not have stories to tell.” Niall nods his head towards Mitch in agreement. “Haven’t you got some stories to tell? It’s been nearly a month without you talking to anyone, H.”

“Oh, surely,” Harry smirks sarcastically, clicking his tongue and taking a sharp breath in, “the adventures of running six bookstores across the country and getting to love this one, right here.” Harry smiles brightly at Caroline and her cheeks flush with a twinge of red that glimmers beneath the crème on her skin. “Always an adventure and worth a story.”

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Look, H, we all know you’re in love and everything, but fuck’s sake, tone it down a bit.” Mitch’s girlfriend is going to meet the group at the very first bar they’re attending, insisting on giving the friends time alone for a while before embarking on the hellish evening that would be their joint celebrations. “Think we should head out soon? Sarah is meeting us at the restaurant at eight. If I’m not mistaken, there are some others meeting us there, too.”

Caroline looks to Harry with confusion, only to see him shrug his shoulders and stare equally as confused. Maybe it’s your cousin, Molly, Harry wants to say, but he doesn’t want to get Caroline’s hopes too high before anything is revealed, and he certainly doesn’t want to ruin the surprise, if that’s it. That would make their friends very angry with him. Rightfully so.

“God, imagine if it was Molly. Could you imagine if Molly was here?” Caroline laughs aloud, and Liv’s eyes go wide, and Harry knows. Caroline ignores the teetering smile on Harry’s mouth, going on about how she’s so happy to be spending the night with their best friends and how they mean everything to her. Harry knows that everything is going to be right in the world as soon as Caroline lays eyes on her cousin, the one that she grew up with that was like a sister to her, whose mother loved her as her own. Harry knows that if anyone is closer to Caroline beside him and her father, it’s Molly and Aunt Daisy. “That’s absurd, though. Molly wouldn’t come all this way for the bachelorette party. Having a baby and all that? No way.”

Molly’s daughter, Ocean, is nearly two, now.

Harry and Caroline were there for her birth. Flying out to California and waiting in the labor and delivery lobby while Molly and her husband, Dylan, welcomed Ocean into the world. Caroline swears it was the best day of her life, to see her cousin – who’s more like her older sister – become a mother and be the happiest she’s ever seen. Caroline always swore that she would never have a child, but Harry saw the look in her eyes when she held that baby for the very first time, when they took pictures of Molly and Caroline and Ocean altogether, when Harry held the baby for the first time. Maybe it wasn’t that her mind had changed, but something made her think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have one.

That’s all Harry could really ask for, anyway.

Harry laughs lightly at his fiancée and her dramatics, knowing fully well that she still sees their niece as the infant she once was, “Ocean is talking and walking, now. She’s nearly two, Cal.”

“That’s still a baby, Shakespeare. Trust me, if we ever have a baby, you’ll still think they’re a baby at two years old, too.”

Of the voices in the room, Harry’s is the only one to stay silent, after that. Niall, Liv, Mitch, and Caroline fall into mindless chatter, talking about the wedding and the upcoming events that they have sorted through, even though the event is maybe a max of thirty people. Harry stays silent and leans against the counter, sipping his drink mindlessly and listening to Caroline as she roams about the room and tells story after story to her best friend.

Harry doesn’t say anything about the comment Caroline’s made, even though it’s all he can think about, knowing that it would make her panic knowing that she’s brought up having a child, once again. Coming home from the hospital, it’s become a more reoccurring topic in their household, and Harry doesn’t want to push anything on Caroline when things are finally starting to get better. He isn’t oblivious, though. He sees the way she looks at the babies that come into the bookstore when they’re working, or the way she holds the baby that her publisher had only two months ago. Harry sees the way her eyes light up at the mention of their future and their wedding and all the things that come along with being a family, because that’s all she wants.

Caroline wants to have a family, a family that she can love and rely on, that isn’t only her father and her aunt and her cousin, that mean something to her and love her as much as she loves them. That doesn’t necessarily mean that they’ll have three children and a huge farmhouse and a life in the midlands, no, but it means that the company that Caroline surrounds herself in, now – her fiancé, their friends, her cousin and aunt, even her fiancé’s immediate relatives – are the family that she always wanted to have.

Harry wants to give Caroline that. If Harry could give her anything, he would give her a family.

Niall’s voice commands the attention of everyone in the room, making everyone else, including Harry, fall silent and bring their eyes to him. “All right, let’s get going to dinner. Made the reservations a bit later in case anyone was late.” Niall winks at Caroline. “Cal, everyone worked really hard, especially your fiancé to make this surprise happen for you and we don’t want you to miss it.”

Caroline looks to Harry, walks towards him, and wraps her arms around his waist, squeezing his hip sweetly and leaning her chin on his chest. “Especially you?”

“Aren’t you the one that said we’ll only get married once?” Caroline nods without saying a word, solely intending on listening to what Harry has to say. “Then, I’m going to go all out for you, Cal. You deserve everything and more than that, Buggy.”

“All right, all right. Enough of that, H. God, you two are disgusting,” Niall laughs, reaching out for Liv to take his hand and making his way towards the front door. “Oh wait!” He reaches around the coffee table for something and brings out a blindfold. “You’ll need this.” Caroline looks at Harry and Niall with furrowed brows, confusion written across her face. “Trust me, okay?”

Caroline, for once in her life, nods quietly, and decides not to make an argument.

* *

Harry knows it was wrong to lie. Harry knows that it was wrong to lie and say that he didn’t want to go to the bachelor party. Harry is sure of that. Harry is well aware that it’s wrong to lie to Caroline and tell her that he doesn’t want to go, and that she shouldn’t go either, when in actuality, he has been working all along with her best friend to make sure the surprise worked out in her favor. He wasn’t told what the surprise might be, but he had an inkling, a guess as to what it could be, and he wanted that for Caroline, so badly.

Caroline deserves the world, and Harry would do anything to give it to her.

Considering that, one lie wouldn’t really hurt her, right? At the end of the day, the surprise is for her. That would make this all better, wouldn’t it?

Harry’s hands are gently guiding her through the entryway, holding her waist securely, her hands holding onto his hips as they walk inside, the rustling and commotion of other guests and customers ringing through the restaurant. Caroline slowly readjusts her position, clasping her hands together beneath her chin and sighing nervously, the noise level coming to a halt and the only thing she can hear is the quiet chatter of Liv and Niall standing next to her. Harry doesn’t say a word, but she can feel him loosen his grip around her, and it makes her know that they’re at their spot for the night.

“Can I take the blindfold off?” Caroline wonders aloud, taking a deep breath and beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic under the darkened light. Harry leaves her side, she can feel it, and the anxiety starts again, nervousness wracking through her body. “Shakespeare?”

“Take your blindfold off, Cal.”

Caroline slowly takes off the blindfold – the makeshift blindfold that was really one of their friend’s bandanas from festivals they all go to every summer – and her eyes well with tears at the sight. Molly standing in front of her, grinning, arms wide open waiting for a hug. “Hey, Cal.”

“Molly,” Caroline whispers wetly, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around her cousin tightly, squeezing her and holding her as they cry tears of joy and excitement and giggle quietly to themselves. “Molly, I can’t believe you’re here. This is insane.” Molly gently wipes Caroline’s tears and then wipes her own cheeks, smiling brightly and hugging her once more. “How the hell did you get here? How’s Ocean? Dylan? Are they here?”

“Harry gave your best friend my number and she organized everything for us. Dylan and Ocean are here, too,” Molly grins, cupping Caroline’s shoulders and sighing contently. Molly looks genuinely happy, and that makes Caroline smile and the anxiety suddenly calm throughout her body. “Ocean, Dylan and I are staying for a week, but tonight, it’s all about you and Harry. All of us are here for you two. That’s what matters tonight. That we celebrate you two and your love and all that means for you. Caroline, do you know how much happiness you deserve to have in life?” Molly frowns when Caroline shakes her head. “All of it. All the happiness. That’s what this is going to be. Happy.”

“I love you,” Caroline says barely above a whisper, wrapping her arms around Molly’s shoulders and bringing her into a tight hug, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill over. “I love all of you.” Caroline turns to Liv and Harry standing side by side, a huge smile spread across her features, threatening to ache her cheeks. “Shakespeare, did you know?”

Harry is trying to hide the grin on his face. Harry’s trying so hard not to smile, not to break into a sloppy grin and pull Caroline into a hug and whisper how much he loves her. “Partially.”

Caroline walks over to him, wraps her arms around his waist, smiles and says, “I love you, H,” and guilt washes over him, weighing heavy on his chest as though lied to the most important person in his life.

Harry is selfish when it comes to Caroline. He knows that. Harry knows that he’s selfish and that’s why he’s beginning to feel guilty for not wanting to come, tonight, for wanting to keep Caroline at home where they can stay in their tiny bubble of security and never leave. Caroline is so happy to be around her friends and Molly, that Harry knows it was wrong of him to want to stay home and even try to get her to stay there, as well. He’s working on it, especially in therapy with her, day by day, to be less nervous when it comes to going out and about after an episode and working on being more secure with the highs and lows.

His heart is heavy, and Caroline can tell by looking at him.

“Don’t feel badly,” she whispers, reaching onto her toes and having her lips touch the shell of his ear to make sure that no one else can hear her. Molly and Niall and Liv are talking amongst themselves, while Mitch is waving down his girlfriend from the entryway, and Harry is wrapping his arms around Caroline’s waist to hold her tightly to his chest, ensuring that no one can hear what she’s trying to say. “All you want is to keep me safe, H, which I appreciate. Everyone knows that. Want you to know, though, that I am happy that we’re here, that we’re with our friends. And I want you to enjoy tonight with me. Guilt isn’t something you need to feel, okay?”

Harry doesn’t say a word, at first, simply lifting his head from her neck and kissing her, pressing his lips to hers and soaking in the way she immediately kisses him back, their lips moving wordlessly on each other’s. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Caroline smiles and says what she always says to Harry when he says the three words she needs to hear, making him smile and feel his heart flutter. “Love you more.”

Quickly, Harry and Caroline turn around, trying to avoid any attention on their conversation and finding their table and taking a seat with Liv and Niall, Mitch and his girlfriend following closely behind. Molly takes a seat next and stands, laying her hands on the table and smiling as if with an announcement. “Okay, okay! I want to hear a story about you two that I haven’t heard before. Obviously, I know that Harry used to be an ass and I know Callie hated him, but we haven’t heard stories about the first kiss and things like that! Callie likes to keep secrets.”

“More like privacy,” Caroline laughs, taking a sip of her water and sighing, trying to think of a story to tell. Truth be told, Caroline didn’t tell anyone much about her relationship with Harry before they were officially dating, so most stories are ones that their friends and family don’t know. Caroline didn’t tell anyone, not because she was embarrassed, but because she was utterly confused by her emotions, by her feelings, and it was easier to ignore everything than to face the impending change that was about to make her life completely different, forever. “I guess I could tell you about our first kiss.”

“On your first date, right?” Liv says, handing her menu to the waiter and ordering her food quietly. Niall’s arm is around her shoulders and Caroline can see that they’re happy, too. Caroline notices those things, she’s realized lately, she really notices when people are happy. Niall and Liv, Molly and Dylan, Harry – all of them are happy. Caroline wants to be included in that. “That one, we know, I think, Cal.”

“Harry and I kissed way before that, Liv. Like, years before that.”

“Three times, actually,” Harry says with a smirk. “Caroline kissed me three times.”

Niall and Mitch snicker, knowing that they’ve heard this story from the days they happened, and Liv’s eyes go wide. Molly whistles, and Caroline can’t hold back her own laughter and she settles into her seat and knows that this story is about to get interesting.

Harry and Caroline haven’t seen each other since that dreaded day at Caroline’s apartment with Liv and Niall watching what Caroline would call the “show”. Caroline and Harry somehow managed to keep their interactions strictly to email, corresponding simply through the computer, which allowed for the two to pass Rigsby’s class and make it to their final semester without a qualm or quarry about whether or not they would be able to graduate in the springtime. Liv and Niall are still going strong, dating for nearly six months, now, and Niall basically lives with Caroline and Liv. Caroline doesn’t mind Niall all that much, what she does mind is the way he is constantly bringing up Harry. Harry Styles, that ridiculous man with a God complex and an ‘I’m better than you think I am’ attitude that surely gets on her last nerve.

Caroline hasn’t seen Harry since that day they fought, and yet, Harry is all she can think about. Harry would’ve said this, Harry would’ve said that – it’s beginning to get annoying.

Max caught on to the way things were going, the downwards spiral that Caroline was heading in, and suggested an appointment with the psychiatrist to change her medicine, which only made Caroline more angry with the situation and say that they need to call it quits for a while. Her boyfriend didn’t argue like she was expecting, like Caroline was wanting (slightly); instead, he simply kissed her on the cheek and told her to call him when she was feeling better, when the episode was over – that much he didn’t say, but it was implied, she assumes.

Only now, three months later, Caroline never called. Only now, three months later, in the middle of February, with the wind chilling against her cheeks and mascara marking her skin, Caroline is alone in the world, isolated and hidden from outsiders, sitting in the bed of her rusty maroon truck, with nothing but a headache and faulty brain.

Bipolar Disorder is funny. Caroline thinks so, at least. Caroline thinks it’s funny that media, particularly social media, has labelled anyone with the more common disorders as more or less harmless to society, that it’s normal and almost quirky now to have these disorders that can debilitate and affect your everyday life, and yet, the disorder that she and nearly six million other people have is labelled as unstable and violent and dangerous in the worst-case scenarios. Caroline thinks about all the things she’s heard in her twenty-some years of life, all the, ‘you’re crazy’, ‘you’re so bipolar’, ‘can’t you just like, be normal’, or her personal favorite, ‘just be happy!’, and cringes to herself, shaking the feelings away and trying to think about something else. If Caroline could just, be happy, she wouldn’t be taking medication, she wouldn’t be in therapy, she wouldn’t be in this position. Caroline wouldn’t be alone if people with Bipolar Disorder could just ‘be happy’.

Gabriel and Caroline Ryan would be in the Grand Canyon, today. They would be in the Grand Canyon, screaming and exploring and travelling across the national park to see sights they’ve seen nearly twelve times. Caroline misses her father dearly, misses him more than anyone could ever miss a person, and it makes her think about the day her life changed forever over a year ago. The Grammys’ Music Cares would have a dedication for him this year, for the change that he brought to the music industry in the short time he was part of it. Caroline wants to go, but she’s nervous to go alone, to have to talk about her father by herself without anyone there. Molly and Aunt Daisy might come if she asks, but she’s nervous. All of it is a lot to think about. All of it is too much.

Heavy footsteps, likely from an early morning runner, bring Caroline back to reality. Quickly wiping her eyes and blinking away the tears – maybe a bit too quickly and hurting her eyes in the process – Caroline gathers her emotions and takes notice of where she is. Is Caroline really at the beach, again? This is the third time this week that she’s woken from a manic episode and found herself at the beach an hour away. Caroline didn’t notice the sun rise or the waves change into high tide, only her emotions and the way her brain is devilish, even on a good day.

“Caroline?” Harry nearly trips over his own feet when he sees Caroline sitting in the bed of her truck. Harry takes the headphones out of his ears, walking towards the truck and knocking on the side, peeking his head around the corner and smiling softly when her eyes lift to meet his. “Is that my best friend?” Harry always says stupid shit to make her angry; it gets a reaction; it gets Caroline to speak to him.

Going on to notice a few things, first, before she even responds, Harry makes a point to realize that this must be the mania thing that Liv was talking about when he asked what was wrong with Caroline the last time they spoke. Liv, privately, indulged Harry and told her what Caroline’s ‘problem’ is, telling him that if he wanted to understand it, then he should do his own research or maybe try to be nicer and talk to her. Harry voted for the research on his own accord and the fact that Caroline barely glances at him. Caroline’s body is clad in nothing but shorts and a silk camisole, something that would be normal for the summertime or even to wear around campus – which he’s seen a million times with her before – but it seems different this time. Maybe it seems different because the weather is barely permitting to be outside without sweatshirts and sweatpants, but it seems different, nonetheless. Caroline’s olive skin seems slightly pale, and Harry swears that he’s seeing things when there are black tracks on her cheeks. Lastly, it’s February, and Caroline is at the beach at sunrise without even a blanket to lay over her body.

Harry can simply tell something is off, and he wants to know what it is.

“Are you stalking me, now?” Caroline says spitefully, shaking her head and biting her bottom lip to hide the shivers wracking through her body.

“Always so hostile, Caroline,” Harry says, shaking his head in a mimicking tone. “Can’t you just be nice for once?”

“Can’t you just mind your own damn business?” she says hurriedly, her chin dropping to her chest and her hands combing through her hair frustratedly as she sighs. Achingly so, the thoughts are intrusive and cruel as they ripple through her brain. Don’t cry again. Don’t cry again. Don’t cry again. Especially not in front of Harry. He’ll just think you’re crazy like everyone else. He doesn’t get you, Caroline. He never will. He’s not anyone you can trust. Caroline mistakenly trusts the thoughts and looks at Harry with annoyance, “Look, what do you want, Harry?”

Harry lets out a breathy laugh and then walks around the edge of the truck and takes the bed down, leaning on the edge of the hood, and sitting on the ledge. “Honestly, I wanted to go for my morning jog to clear my head. Apparently, you like to drive to the beach I like to run at. I saw your truck, which has you in it, crying on the beach at,” Harry looks at his phone, “seven in the morning. Do you want to talk?”

“Don’t think you want to hear about my problems, Mr. Shakespeare,” Caroline laughs, sighing audibly when Harry takes his sweatshirt off and offers it to her without saying a word, making it known that it’s not an option, that she’s going to wear it, and her arm reluctantly reaches out for it, hands climbing through the sleeves and pulling it over her torso. “Thanks.”

Harry shrugs it off and takes the initiative to sit closer to her, taking a seat in the corner of the bed and sitting across from Caroline as she stares into space, her eyes focused on the crashing waves of the high tide and the way the sound whooshes over their silence. “Well, Caroline, you’ve never told me your middle name, Ryan, it’s freezing and you’re in shorts at the beach, in your truck, with barely anything, not even a blanket, to cover you. I think that warrants a conversation. At the very least, give me the outline of what’s going on. As your friend.”

“Oh,” Caroline nods, a sarcastic smirk toying at the corners of her mouth, “so we’re friends, now, Harry?” Harry shrugs and Caroline looks at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, “Made it through one semester barely speaking to each other and you think we’re friends?” Caroline’s tone is harsh but there is a hint, the slightest hint, of a playful tone beneath her words.

“Oh, haven’t we always been, Caroline?” Considering how tense things were between the two a little less than two weeks ago when the semester ended, when they had to give their final presentation of their annotations together while only communicating through emails – and their professor never even noticed – it certainly would make sense that they weren’t friends. Caroline forces a half-smile at him, and Harry swears that his heart could have stopped beating at the sight. “Think our friendship started right before you called me privileged. That really started it all, for me, at least.” Caroline’s smiled before, surely, she has, while writing or while she was talking about her book in class just before everything went to shit, but never to Harry. That is a sight for sore eyes, certainly. “C’mon, Caroline Ryan. Make yourself be vulnerable for once. That’s how people become friends.”

“Vulnerable isn’t really my thing.” Caroline sighs audibly, her fingers running through her hair and taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to make her life seem a little less pathetic than how it really feels to tell the tale. Caroline always hated this part, with girlfriends and boyfriends and friends and family, having to tell the sob story that always warranted a sympathetic stare and a pitying apology. That was never something she wanted. Caroline never wanted anyone to look at her and feel sorry for her; Caroline had a good life, has a good life.

Beyond the whole, brain not working properly, thing.

“Make it your thing.” Harry looks at Caroline and cautiously sets his hand on her knee, not caring that his sweatshirt is now pulled over her knees and her thighs are tucked under the material, certainly stretching it out beyond fixing. Liv told Harry that Caroline doesn’t like to be touched, that it stresses her out to be hugged or touched or bothered without rhyme or reason, and he knows that this is a risk, but he wants her to look at him, to meet his stare, and know that he’s telling her the truth. “Caroline, I want to be your friend. I can’t make that any clearer than what I’ve been trying to do.”

Harry is referencing all the apologies he’s made, all the efforts at parties and gatherings to talk to her and try to make conversation, all the work that he dedicated to their project for Rigsby and the conversations he’s had with her best friend to try and understand why she is the way she is. Caroline has ignored everything, in and including knowing that Harry has asked Liv about her and her disorder. Caroline hasn’t ignored everything to be rude, no, but to save Harry the time.

Harry is just going to leave like everyone else. Like her father, like her mother, like her boyfriends, like her friends. Harry is no different than anyone else she’s met.

“Harry, you don’t want to be my friend.”

“How do you know?” Harry is insulted by that, by the harshness of the words. How could Caroline even know what Harry wants, when she’s barely taken the time to get to know him? “Caroline, you have no idea what I want.”

Something about the way Harry says that sets Caroline off on a tangent.

“Harry, if we become friends, everything will change; there’s going to be this attachment between us, something neither of us will be able to control. It’s not the ‘let’s hang out every few days or so’ or the ‘let’s see each other with our friends’ type of attached. It’s more than that.” Caroline waits for Harry to say something, and when he doesn’t, she continues, “There will be no reason, but something in my head will say to text you at two in the morning, just because, and I’ll want to talk every day and be around you. It’s addictive for me to be around people. It’s not normal. There’s nothing normal about me, Harry. There’s never a normal amount of anything, it’s over indulged and incessant and it’s why I don’t have a relationship anymore. It’s why my life is pretty lonely; it’s why I like to be alone. That’s why I’m moving out of the apartment with Liv and getting my own place. Quite hard to annoy people if you’re not around them much.”

Harry looks shocked when Caroline says this, this revelation, a certain and outright explanation as to why she’s been holding herself back from a relationship with him in any way, especially when it’s felt like he’s been trying so much. “Is that what you think? That you’re annoying?”

“My mom thought having a daughter with bipolar disorder was annoying, and that’s why she left,” Caroline says beneath her breath, nearly quiet enough to prevent Harry from hearing, but the waves had receded, and the wind had slowed, and the silence was forgiving enough to allow him to listen. Harry’s wide, green eyes alone told Caroline that he heard every word. “My dad was the only person that ever understood me. His brain was like mine, absolutely fucked. My dad had the coolest brain, though. My dad’s brain, even though he had bipolar disorder, too, it just worked. My dad could write songs and go on tour and raise a daughter by himself for seventeen years. All of that, he could do all of that, with a brain that tells you you’re worthless, all the time. My dad was a whole fucking superhero.”

“Only been a year, right? A little bit over?”

“One year and sixty-two days,” she mutters, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands and wrapping herself tighter in a ball, her thighs pulled to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. “Matters to no one but me, though. That’ll always be how it is. Only me.”

“Matters to a lot of people, Caroline,” Harry says, sliding in closer to her body and having his feet touch hers. “Mattered to me when I heard the news. Mattered to all his fans. Matters to you.” Caroline sucks in a heavy breath and lets it out between slightly parted lips, ignoring the way Harry has inched closer to her and his hand is dangerously close to reaching out and laying a comforting touch to her thigh. Harry opens his mouth, hesitating to even bring the sentence back into conversation, “Caroline, I had no idea about your mother, I’m sorry.”

There it is. The pity.

Caroline quickly changes the subject. “Come in the ocean with me.” Harry looks as though three heads had suddenly appeared through her body, six eyes staring back at him with wide green irises as she raises her eyebrows and gives a pointed stare. “Well? Are you coming?”

Harry grabs Caroline’s hand and there is a rush of electricity that passes through their fingertips, a current that is warm and attractive, adrenaline-like, encouraging another touch. “Caroline, it’s freezing in there. Have you got any idea how cold the water is going to be in February?”

“And your point is?”

Harry stares at her in amazement, pursing his lips together and trying to understand where the lack of care is stemming from, where the lack of empathy for her wellbeing comes from when she’s got so much going for her. “Go if you want to go; I’ll stay here and wait.”

“You’ll stay? You’ll stay while I go into the ocean,” Caroline repeats with a laugh for confirmation, knowing that he must be insane to stay and watch her go in the ocean during a moment of pure mania, the feeling of wanting to feel anything in her veins, particularly the adrenaline that the freezing, salt water will give her. Harry seems supportive, surely, but will that last? “Are you sure?”

Harry’s heart sinks and his lips purse tighter in a straight line, nodding silently, his mind set on proving her instinct wrong – her instinct that says everyone will leave if she shows the slightest bit of the uncontrolled side of herself. “Caroline, I’m sure.”

“God, Harry, you have to stop calling me ‘Caroline’,” she says sternly, tugging his sweatshirt off her torso and tossing it in the back of the truck, watching as he smoothly grabs it and holds it on his thighs. “Dad barely called me ‘Caroline’ and he named me.”

“Alright, I’ll call you,” Harry waits for a moment, thinking carefully, “Callie, only Callie, from now on. That’s something I can do. Can I call you Cal, too? Is that off limits?”

“Okay, Cal and Callie are fine.”

Harry can tell that there’s something underlying that she wants to say in the way she says ‘okay’ and the way she bites her tongue, but not wanting to push the slight progress they’ve already made, Harry makes the choice to leave it alone. “Callie, are you really going in the ocean?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“’Cause it’s bloody freezing. That’s why,” Harry says matter-of-factly, as if all of his logic is going down the drain talking to her. “Like, you’re really going in?”

“Not all of us feel everything in the world, Harry,” Caroline says, shaking her head and bringing her arms to fold across her chest. “Like me, for instance. On days like today, it’s lovely to feel absolutely nothing.”

Harry stares at Caroline with curiosity and interest in his eyes, a look purely made of concern and misunderstanding. His furrowed eyebrows and wrinkled forehead say his confusion, enough to tell her that he’s absolutely oblivious to what she really means by feeling nothing. “Nothing?”

“Not a damn thing, Harry.”

Caroline rushes into the water, then, without saying another word. Hair twists along her shoulders, slightly messy and greasy and unwashed from a few days, her skin dry and likely drinking in the feeling of the water against her ankles as she slowly lowers herself into the ocean, reaching to where her knees meet the sea, and the waves crash into her thighs. Harry doesn’t say a word, simply watching her as she soaks in the way the water feels on her numb skin, and he shivers, thinking of the temperature against his body. Harry knows, now, what this is.

Caroline stays in the water for well over ten minutes, Harry sitting in the bed of her truck, watching her as she soaks in the water crashing over her thighs and wetting the hems of her shorts. Harry can see her shivering, the way that if the waves slow, he could probably hear the chattering of her teeth from across the beach. Caroline looks happy, though, and Harry isn’t sure if that’s a side effect of the mania or medication or what, but he certainly isn’t going to ask. That’s off limits. Liv made that very clear. Consciously bringing up Caroline’s mania will make her shut down and tune whoever it is out for good – hence the break with her boyfriend – and that will leave Harry with no connection to Caroline at all. That’s not what Harry wants at all.

“Are you daydreaming, again, Mr. Mitty?” Caroline’s voice tugs Harry out of his daydream, the reference to the fictional character making him laugh breathily. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing at all,” Harry shrugs, handing her the sweatshirt and watching her as she yanks it over her head, the material falling to her thighs and sitting very much oversized on her frame. “If we hadn’t just become friends,” he says confidently, swinging his legs over the edge of the truck and adjusting their bodies slightly so that she is tucked between his thighs, “I think I might’ve tried to kiss you, Callie.”

“Might have?” Caroline laughs, shaking her head and shoving his shoulder back with her hand, the sleeves endearingly tucked over the heels of her hands. “Come on, Harry, be vulnerable. Honestly. Can’t lie to me and tell me you wouldn’t have tried to kiss me that day we were having a screaming match outside my apartment if I had let you.”

“If you had let me. Alright, Miss Ryan, whatever you say.”

“Fine, then,” Caroline says surely, taking a deep breath, climbing onto the edge of the bed of the truck and straddling Harry’s waist, grabbing his cheeks in her hands firmly, and finally laying her lips on his. Caroline’s eyes are squeezing shut, trying to ignore the sparks flying through her skin and the way Harry’s hands have found their way to her waist, holding her to him, his mouth immediately reciprocating the kiss and giving the same energy she’s putting out. On the long list (three) of people that Caroline has kissed in her lifetime, this may be the most interesting, the most unusual. Coming from someone that she hated mere weeks ago, kissing Harry feels worldly different, like something that is almost, right, in a way; it feels okay to be kissing him.

Caroline’s first kiss was a boy in the tenth grade, Connor was his name, on her very first date; very, how do you say politely, inexperienced. Caroline’s second kiss was Maxwell, on their third date, and many others after that, and they were always lovely. Max’s kisses made her feel loved when she was feeling lonely. Max made her feel warm inside, made her feel happy. Caroline loves Max, and she may always love him. Her first love. Caroline’s third kiss is with a man that she absolutely was disgusted with until about thirty minutes ago.

And that alone, the mere thought of kissing someone that she once hated, is how Caroline knows that she is manic. Harry doesn’t know that, though. Harry doesn’t need to know that. That’s something that she doesn’t need to share, not right now, now when they’ve just become friends.

“There,” Caroline says, pulling away and wiping at her bottom lip, slowly climbing off his thighs and jumping onto the tarmac. “Is it out of your system, yet?”

Harry shakes his head confidently, a smug smirk sitting prettily on his features. “Callie, you’ve just opened pandora’s box with that, sweetheart.”

“Ew,” she says, gagging at the thought of being called anything other than her name by this man that she’s suddenly become uncomfortably close with, and walking around to the side of the truck to grab her keys from the passenger seat. “Think about calling me a cutesy name like that again and I’ll key you, Carrie Underwood style.”

“Got a lot of rage in you, Callie.”

“Got a lot fucked up things going on in this brain of mine, Harry.” Caroline leans over the side of the truck, laying her arms on the rim and leaning her chin on the back of her hands. “Are you sure you want to be my friend? This is what it’s like, like, sixty percent of the time. Maybe seventy. I’m kind of insane, Harry.”

“Callie, you’re not insane.”

Caroline looks at Harry as though he’s grown three heads, and he’s insane for saying such a thing. Clinically, Caroline is mentally ill. “I just told you I have Bipolar Disorder,” she says astoundingly, as though the fact alone would make him want to run and hide away from her forever. “That makes me insane, Harry. Clinically insane.”

“Clinically insane is used for criminals,” Harry says with a laugh, shaking his head at the dramatization of their entire conversation. Caroline was surely dramatic, way over dramatic for someone that would barely hurt a fly. Harry kind of likes it. “Are you a criminal?”

“Hard criminal.”

“Ah, yes,” Harry chuckles, leaning his hands on the edge of the truck and sliding off the bed, his feet landing on the tarmac with a hard smack. Caroline turns to face him, and a breath catches in her throat as she notices how close they are; with one wrong move, their chests, their entire bodies would be touching. “Hardened criminal, you are. More like a pesky bug. That’s what I should call you from now on. How’s that for a nickname? Not nearly as cutesy as sweetheart.”

“Easy there,” Caroline says, shutting the truck and climbing into the driver’s seat, moving her things around and shoving the mess to the passenger seat floor, rolling her window down to speak to him. “You and I aren’t close enough for nicknames like that, just yet. You just convinced me to be your friend, Harry. That’s enough for one day, I think. I think that’s good.”

“You called me Shakespeare! That was a nickname!”

“That was more of an insult, Mr. Literal.”

Harry shakes his head and leans over the windowsill of the driver’s seat, smirking wildly and staring into Caroline’s light green eyes. “You’ll learn to love me Callie Ryan, you’ll see.”

* *

New York is freezing, even for the springtime. Harry knew this, but for some reason, it didn’t occur to him how cold it would be until he and Caroline were walking through the exit doors of the airport and the wind was whipping against his cheeks. Caroline turns to Harry, pulling his hood over his head and ears and smiles quaintly, patting his cheek and nodding towards the car waiting for their arrival on the curb.

Harry can tell that Caroline is anxious, and he instinctively grabs her hand, trying desperately to comfort her, squeezing her lightly and taking the initiative to walk to the man outside the car and talk to him about their situation. Caroline is reluctant to let go of his hand, and immediately grabs his hand when they’re seated in the backseat, forcing a smile at him – that he knows is fake – and talking to the driver about her father and the event and thanking him for the ride. Harry gets out first and checks the two into the hotel, sighing and trying to convince the receptionist that there should be two rooms in reservation, or at the very least, a room with two beds.

“Harry, it’s okay,” Caroline insists, shaking her head furiously and squeezing his hand, silently begging him to not cause a scene in the middle of the all-too-fancy hotel that they’re in. “Can you just get the keys so we can go upstairs?”

Harry knows that Caroline is having a literal panic attack as they stand there, and his first reaction is to wrap her tightly in his arms and hold her there until she’s okay. Caroline stands next to him, handing the receptionist her identification and anxiously twitches her knee and cracks her knuckles, Harry’s hand immediately goes to her back to try and alleviate some stress.

Harry likes how things have changed since that morning at the beach. Harry likes things a lot. Harry doesn’t mind that he knows the intimate details about Caroline’s mental health, the days she has therapy, the times she takes her medication. Harry knows these things because of how much their relationship has changed since that morning, since they decided to become friends and let everything change for what feels like the better.

“Here you are, Miss Ryan. Enjoy your stay!”

“Thank you,” Caroline swallows thickly, smiling and nodding and turning on her heel quickly to walk towards the elevators in the corner of the lobby. Harry follows quickly behind, lugging their suitcases behind him and nudging the elevator closed with his elbow. Caroline is quiet for the first few minutes, and then says, “Thank you for not causing a scene.”

“Giving you basic, common courtesy, Cal,” Harry says, gesturing for her to exit first when the elevator dings and reaches their floor, the sliding doors opening slowly. “Think we have about three hours before we have to be downstairs at the venue. Can you squeeze in a nap in that time, do you think?”

Caroline opens the door shakily and walks inside, setting her belongings on the table and waiting for Harry to shut and lock the door behind her before she says a word. “I want to go over my speech, I think. Maybe I’ll call Molly and read it to her, again.”

Harry nods knowingly, “’Course, whatever you want.”

Harry wasn’t originally supposed to go to this event with Caroline. It was meant to be her cousin, Molly, and her aunt, Daisy. It was meant to be her family, coming to honor Gabriel Ryan for the evening, but since Caroline’s grandparents passed away, Aunt Daisy became ill, and Molly couldn’t have time away from work, Caroline was left with her only other option: her friends. Liv is proposing her thesis in the morning and couldn’t miss the meeting, and Niall really didn’t to impose. Caroline was left with only one person to really be there for her when she needed it the most. Caroline was left with the one that she was unsure could really handle the mess that she would be. Caroline was left with certain uncertainty.

Harry.

MusiCares for The Grammys is a huge event. Likely one of the biggest events of the year in the music industry, beyond The Grammys and the award shows, themselves. Caroline has been once or twice with her father when she was a young girl, even with her mother, once. Harry is standing next to her, holding her hand tightly, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles trying to soothe the anxiety that he knows is coursing through her veins in this very moment.

Coming from the moment she walked out of the bathroom with her dress hanging loosely off her shoulders and her lace shoes untied around her ankles, Harry knew that Caroline would be a mess and the mania that she felt earlier in the week would be long gone. Especially gone by the time she is listening to Dave Grohl – her father’s mentor, his best friend, her godfather – give his speech about her father and all that he gave to the world of music. Caroline wouldn’t be able to handle listening to that, especially from the person that arguably knew him better than she did.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can do this, Harry. I don’t think I can get up there and talk about Dad to all these people who didn’t give two fucks about him when he was alive, but suddenly care now that he’s gone,” Caroline says suddenly, staring at Harry with wide eyes, nervously biting her cheek and feeling as though the walls are caving in around her. “How am I supposed to do this? This isn’t fair! This is his award. They don’t even know that they’re releasing his new album, this year. Am I supposed to announce that? Harry, help.”

Harry doesn’t know what to do. Harry doesn’t know what to say, what to do in this situation, how to make everything better. Harry wants to make Caroline feel better, to make her feel like there’s someone there for her that will be cheering her on and making her feel like every word she says is important, that people will listen, and that the words she will say will be just as important to everyone in that room as it would have been if her father was there to make the acceptance speech, himself. Harry does what always seems to calm Caroline, grabs her cheeks and brings her into his chest, holding her tightly to him and squeezing his arms around her.

“Usually, this would work, Harry,” she says with her cheeks squished to his chest, trying to pull her face away from his neck and meet his stare, “but this is something desperate and, honestly, I think I’m going to lose it.” Caroline’s eyes flick between Harry’s lips and his emerald eyes, and she knows what she wants in that moment, a simple kiss, a barely-there peck, something to keep her mind away from the speech and onto something different. “Could you kiss me?” Harry hesitates, looking from side to side, and Caroline begins to panic, thinking that she’s overstepped a boundary and Harry is surely going to hate her and dislike her forever and ever. “Actually, never mind, that was a stupid question, that was ridiculous. I’m so sorry I even asked. I shouldn’t be able to speak. That’s so embarrassing and certainly not something you want to do, and it was inconsiderate of me to ask. I’m very sorry. I’m going to go. I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

“Caroline,” Harry says without thinking, grabbing Caroline’s cheeks and hurriedly pressing his lips against hers, their mouths moving rhythmically together, the emotions and the adrenaline coursing through their veins making everything feel a million times more intense than it truly is.

“Thank you,” Caroline mutters against his mouth, silently hoping that Harry knows that she is expressing her gratitude for more than simply the kiss. “Okay, I have to go,” she says, looking at the stage and the imposing thoughts intruding her mind about the speech tucked away in her chest. “You’ll stay here?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Harry kisses Caroline’s forehead, squeezing her in a tight hug before nodding towards the stage and gently nudging her towards the staircase, Dave Grohl standing there, smiling, waiting with the award held in his hand to hand to her. Harry whistles loudly when she steps on the stage, and she turns to look at him with a knowing smile, the erupted cheers of the audience not anywhere near what she wanted to be hearing. Caroline would have preferred to give the speech to Harry and Harry only. Harry wouldn’t judge her.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Caroline says nervously, trading the heavy plaque in her hands and sucking in a deep breath as the tears prick at her eyes. “Gabriel Ryan said many things about the world, specifically saying, ‘this world will take you for granted’, and ‘sometimes it’s the ones you love most that hurt you the worst’. Gabriel Ryan felt abandoned by the world in many ways, especially when his mental health went through the worst times. Gabriel Ryan, however, found a silver lining. Music.” Caroline looks away and stares at the ceiling, tears welling in her eyes and her voice becoming shaky. “My father loved being a musician. He felt like his purpose on this planet was to make others feel less alone, to make a crowd of twenty thousand people feel like they were best friends with everyone in the room. Dad’s goal in life was to make someone feel like their life was worth living, that their life meant something, that they weren’t simply a thing in whatever mess life is. I don’t think my father realized that he did that for every single one of you, at one time or another; that he changed the lives of so many people.” Caroline looks over to Harry for support, and she can see the tears in his eyes, and she blinks, the tears that were once welled inside her eyes now coming along her cheeks. “Mental Health is a tricky thing. There’s still this stigma around it, around Bipolar Disorder, that makes you think that anyone that has it is crazy or something. That you’re crazy, or violent, or different, or otherworldly. God, please know, that you’re not crazy, you’re not any of those things. That’s something Gabriel Ryan wanted people to understand. That was something that my father dedicated his whole life to – educating about mental health. That’s why he’s receiving this award, today. ‘Cause someone, somewhere, felt better by what he did, what he does.” Caroline sucks in a breath through her teeth and says under her breath, barely loud enough for the microphone to grab what she’s saying, “Dad, I wish you could see how much you mean to all these people.” Harry nearly walks on stage to comfort her, but Caroline blinks back her tears and gathers her emotions. “I want to thank the Academy for dedicating this award to my father and everything that he worked for. I want to thank everyone that was his friend, for always supporting his endeavors and making him feel less alone. Lastly, I want to thank my father, Gabriel Ryan, for being the man that the world needed, to teach us everything about mental health. I hope that your message transcends past anything you could ever say with song.” Caroline holds up the award one final time and says, “Thank you.”

Caroline receives a standing ovation, whistles and cheers and eruptions from the audience standing on their feet to support every word that she spoke. Harry is screaming from backstage, whistling and hollering for her, his voice travelling louder than any other voice in the entire room. Caroline walks quickly towards him, his hand reaching for the award to hold for her, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and tucking her face in his neck instinctively. His hands rub along her back, rocking her back and forth comfortingly as she sobs into his neck. Harry knows that no ounce of that speech was easy, that nothing about it was something she wanted to give.

Harry sighs and leans against her ear to speak, trying to hide the smirk that itches to form on his mouth when she relaxes at the touch, “That was amazing, Callie. You brought me to tears. You brought everyone to tears. That was fucking fantastic.” Caroline pulls her head away from his neck, his thumbs going beneath her eyes to wipe the mascara tracks that are forming beneath her lashes. “I’m so serious, Cal. That was better than I imagined it would be.”

And then, Caroline kisses Harry. Again. Caroline kisses Harry like she’s never kissed anyone before. The kiss is desperate and messy and saying things that neither of them could say aloud if they tried. Like, ‘I love you’, ‘Thank you for being here’, and ‘I needed you’.

Harry always says exactly what he’s thinking, though, and Caroline isn’t sure what to say back. “Caroline, I think I love you.”

Caroline is feeling so many emotions, so many thoughts are swirling around her brain, and the only thing that feels comforting is hearing those words come out of Harry’s mouth, even though they’re the most terrifying words that she’s ever experienced in her life. Harry said the words that Caroline thinks that she’s feeling, the ones that have been sitting heavy on her chest since they started getting close, since they shared their stories about their family and their friends and the way their minds words against them. Harry, too, has his mind working against him, sometimes, and Caroline has been there to see him through it. Caroline, although not nearly as worried about losing him as she was about losing her father, never left his side and saw to it that the feelings went away, and he would go back about his day. Caroline loves Harry. Of course. Caroline has probably loved Harry since before they even became friends that day at the beach. Caroline was, well, infatuated with him. Could Caroline say that to him in this very moment, though? Could Caroline say that aloud without absolutely ruining the things they have going?

“I, I.”

“Don’t feel like you have to say it back. It’s okay. I know you don’t feel that way about just anyone. I just, I want you to know that you’re not alone. That I love you,” Harry says hurriedly, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly to bring her attention from her shoes to his eyes. Harry’s eyes look pretty, right here, a glossy green that are shining beneath the stage lights. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Cal, we can talk there, privately. Okay?”

That’s the thing. Caroline loves Harry. Harry is one of her very best friends. Caroline just can’t say it.

Harry and Caroline go straight to the hotel, waving goodbye to all the celebrities trying to gather around her and speak to her and sharing a few words here and there, but ultimately, Caroline can’t handle speaking to anyone except Harry, in this moment, and saying exactly how she feels. Caroline owes it to herself, to Harry, to say how she’s feeling before she fucks everything up the way she always does, the way she knows that she will.

Harry walks inside first, holding Caroline’s hand, gently guiding her through the chaos that exists downstairs and around the hotel to avoid a panic attack before they’ve even gotten to the privacy of their room. Harry’s eyes flick towards the back of her dress, and Caroline moves her hair away from her neck to give him access to the zipper to bring it down her back. Her body shivers at the touch, and he offers a shy smile as she walks around the room and reaches for her pajamas without so much as glancing at him. Harry can tell that Caroline is panicking, and it makes him upset that he wasn’t able to avoid it with her. Harry has come to realize that some things are simply unavoidable with Caroline.

“I, I don’t think we can kiss anymore.” Harry turns his head away from the string of his pajama bottoms and looks at Caroline, who is standing with his oversized sweatshirt hanging loosely over her torso and nothing but a tour shirt – presumably – and shorts underneath. “I think it means something different to both of us and I don’t think we can kiss anymore. I’m sorry that I kissed you today. I shouldn’t have. That was stupid of me. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a minute, then two, then three, only giving a hum and standing from his seat on the lounger beside the bed, and Caroline knows by his hardened jaw and tense demeanor that he’s angry, or something is wrong, and she’s the reason. All Harry can say is, “Okay, Caroline.”

And like that, Caroline ruined everything for her and Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry doesn’t say another word to Caroline as readies everything for the night and gathers his things for the morning. Caroline was supposed to show Harry around New York City in the morning, her favorite city, before leaving for the airport, and if they want to be awake in time, they need to go to sleep. That’s what Harry’s telling himself, at least. Harry doesn’t want to admit that he’s heartbroken by Caroline’s words, that there wasn’t a small part of him that prayed that she would feel the same way as he does, that would want him in the way that he wants her. Harry has to justify everything to himself, the three stolen kisses over the course of their relationship, the hours they spent together talking and the studying and the growing closer and closer. Harry has to make himself believe that he was the only one to have feelings in this way, that everything he imagined in his head was make believe. Like Shakespearean Fiction – painful and heartbreaking.

“Are you not going to talk to me, now? Is that it? I try to avoid everything changing between us and you won’t even look at me. And after everything you promised me? That’s fucked, Harry.”

“All I need is a little time, Caroline,” Harry says frustratedly, looking away from his hands and staring at a heartbroken Caroline on the opposite side of the bed, the single bed that they’ll have to share, tonight. “That doesn’t change how I feel about you, how you’re one of my best friends.” Caroline can feel the tears slipping down her cheeks when he says those words, because as much as Harry wants to be angry, he can’t make her feel alone. That’s not who Harry is, anymore. “Come here, Cal.”

Caroline pulls the comforter away from the edge of the bed, climbing beneath the sheets and nervously circling her arms around Harry’s waist, his back propped against the headboard, his ankles crossed beneath the sheets as he wraps his arms around her body and brushes his fingers through her hair softly, nearly leaning down to kiss her head before stopping himself. Harry knows that everything is going to change from here on out, that nothing will be the same and everything will feel different, because Harry’s just confessed his love for Caroline and Caroline has rejected him in the worst way, by saying she’s afraid. Harry has done everything to make sure Caroline isn’t afraid, that she’s comfortable and safe around him, and if he couldn’t even make her comfortable as a friend, how could he ever do so as a lover?

“I love you,” Caroline says suddenly, barely above a whisper, barely audible to Harry’s ears. “I just think I love you differently than you love me.”

Harry doesn’t say a word, simply turning off the bedroom light and laying further into the pillows beneath his head, Caroline laying comfortably on his chest, his hands holding her tightly as though she’s going to disappear in the morning.

Maybe Caroline is. Maybe everything that they’ve worked for is going to disappear the second they wake, and they realize that they’ve made a grave mistake by kissing and sharing their feelings for one another. Maybe Caroline is going to disappear in the morning, disappear from Harry’s life for good.

* *

Caroline hasn’t heard a word from Harry since their journey from LAX, since New York, since he held her hand and she held the plaque for her father on her thighs and they talked mindlessly about how things have changed since their very meeting. Caroline thought things were alright, thought things were going to be okay. That’s how it felt, at least.

Caroline looked to Harry as she was getting out of the car, watching carefully as he took her suitcase from his trunk and walked it up the long driveway to her father’s house – that he somehow convinced her not to sell in the time being – and set it on the stairs leading to the front door. Harry doesn’t make the effort to come closer, to give Caroline a squeeze as he always does, simply smiling and waving and turning on his heel to walk back to his car.

Caroline shouts out, “Are you not going to give me a hug?” Harry turns on his heel again, walking back towards Caroline and opening his arms wide for her. Caroline rushes into him, breathing him in and soaking in the way his arms fit around her, strong and secure, that make her feel safe. “Harry, you’ll call me, right? You don’t hate me, now?”

“’Course not,” Harry says without hesitation, leaning his nose into her hair and breathing her in, a secret weighing heavy on his chest and his heart as he stands there. Harry can’t tell her. Harry can’t break her heart, like that. “I’ll call you soon, Cal.”

And Caroline waits five days for Harry to call. Five painfully long days. Five days and then Caroline is picking up the phone, ready to yell profanities at Harry around the world for ignoring her and leaving her to think that he doesn’t want to be around anymore. Caroline is ready. Caroline really is.

Caroline is ready; that is until three alarming beeps sound on the other end, and a devastating message plays through the speaker.

we’re sorry. you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @goldenbabys-world , @burberryharold , @stylesfics-xx , @grace-ful-gold , @summertimestyles , @laur-sogolden​, @yourhsficsplug​, @morethanamelodyy​, @truckerhatharry​, @plzplzme2

[fourfucksake]

fight night

pairing: andy barber x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, rough smut/sex, dominant male, submissive woman + spoilers for DJ

word count: 1.9k

p.s if you haven’t already watch “Defending Jacob”

Once every couple of months you and Andy would argue like crazy. For some reason, the outcome was always the same - he left. His steps were always silent, almost as if he were completely careless to the heated situation. Your eyes would hang on his back as he slowly left the bedroom. It was like déjà vu, the exact same situation took place in this household, between you two already.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Throwing your hands in the air with annoyance written on your face you would follow his footsteps. No answer, absolutely no response. Just when you thought he couldn’t get more infuriating. You could see Andy’s shadow making its way down the stairs, the door shut loudly after he left.

Andy had no reason to act this way, yet he did. Arguments that you two shared were never serious, they were always over stupid things. He wanted to have it his way and so did you. It was complicated. This was a constant thing in your relationship, however bad that sounded. You always let it slide because of his unresolved issues and trauma from the past. You always knew this behaviour patter is not healthy, but you couldn’t help yourself. Falling in love with this stubborn, serious, senior lawyer was never in your schedule – it just happened.

Days passed and there were absolutely no signs of him anywhere. Well, anywhere near you. You just assumed he went to work normally. Andy didn’t have any family so there was no one contacting you about him. He didn’t really have friends either, he was kind of a loner. Escaping was his coping mechanism; you knew he can go without facing you for some time.

You didn’t worry too much, knowing he’s too clever to get himself in any trouble. Whether you liked to admit it or not Andy was one of the smartest individuals you knew. Him being a respected lawyer didn’t help your case since every argument with him was almost like an on-going debate, as long and tedious as the Great Wall of China.

By now, you were kind of used to being at home without him. You did your nightly routine as usual until a major interruption cut you off. A loud knock awakened the house. Your confused stare rose as you reluctantly moved from the king-sized bed placed in the bedroom. A deep sighed left your irritated face when you moved to the door. Only if Andy was here, you thought, as your feet headed towards antechamber. No guests were expected, and you couldn’t think of anyone who would bother you at this ungodly hour.

Looking through the viewfinder you mumbled a half silent “what the fuck” when your eyes recognised the familiar figure. Seeing Andy was something you didn’t expect. You opened the door after all; even the anger built over the days couldn’t make you just leave him there. You knew you are too weak when it comes to him.

Your words had no time to leave your mouth as Andy’s lips pressed onto yours. A soft moan followed as his fingers aggressively grabbed your hips. The kiss didn’t last long, stopped by his focus moving onto your neck. He gasped, breathing hot air against your skin as his mouth left sloppy and moist traces along the column of your neck. A bunch of whimpers left your mouth as your eyes rolled in pleasure. This was good, too good. Your mind had to remind you that you were still, in fact, mad at him.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?!” You yelled, pushing him away. Your chest was moving in a crazy motion, your breathing completely unsteady. There was this urge in you, a strong one, begging for you to start shouting. Andy sent you a drilling stare, grabbing both of your wrists with force. He moved his body onto yours, forcing your back to face the wall.

“Stop fucking talking,” He spat with absolutely no remorse behind his voice. Andy’s stare was set on you, lacking its typical light of positivity. You knew this look; it spoke volumes. He used his hand to pin your wrists above your head. A smirk formed on his face as he tightened the grip around them. He knew he won, he knew you were about to submit yourself to his cravings and desires. This was the time for you to stop him, but you didn’t. Andy gifted you with time, couple of seconds to respond but you did absolutely nothing. This was his sign, his confirmation of your consent for his further movements.

“Get on your fucking knees,” His command sent shivers down your spine. You didn’t know why but you obeyed like your life depended on it. There was something about his dark side that made you follow his orders. The way he looked at you, spoke to you, did you…one could only adore it.

Slowly, your legs gave in and you were on your knees. Initial thoughts made you think he wanted his pants unzipped, tips of your nails on his balls, and mouth wide open, ready to take his size on your tongue; his next actions proved you wrong. Andy grabbed your hair, harshly pulling them back as you hissed. “Be a good girl and crawl to the couch. I wanna see you on all fours, don’t you dare get up. Ass up, face down. No words until I tell you to speak.”

You gulped, being familiar with this tone. Your knees and hands moved, directing you to the sofa in the living room. Unsurely, you got up just to place yourself on the couch, ass up and face down, exactly the way he wanted. At this very moment you hated the control, the power this man had over you. If your brain stopped sending obvious signals to your fucking genitalia, you would yell at him in a heartbeat.

“Just like that, very well,” His comment almost provoked your eyes to roll. Andy being bossy with you gave you tingles and drove you mad at the same time.

The material of your silky night dressed was lifted, exposing your bare back. His strong hand gave you a painful and punishing spank leading to your body shivering under his touch. Seeing this reaction Andy repeated his action. “Liking this, princess?” Your ears welcomed his voice, a silent moan was your only response. No talking, no talking, not talking, you had to continually remind yourself. If you didn’t comply Andy would make the next spanking session a lot less pleasurable for you.

“I’m going to fuck you the way I want. Stay still and enjoy, understood?” He rasped, examining the skin on your back with his fingers. “Y-Yes,” You squirmed, still sensitive after series of slaps your bottom received. His presence was extremely intimidating at this point, you couldn’t form your words as well as you wished. Andy enjoyed you in this state way too much.

“Yes, what?” His voice was ice cold, he wasn’t shy to let you know he didn’t like your first answer. You swallowed intensely, letting out a silent gasp. “Y-Yes, daddy.” You spoke out, making sure he hears you loud and clearly. If you didn’t, he would just make you repeat it until you he was satisfied with the volume.

You could hear the characteristic sound of his belt and zipper undoing as his trousers were lowered down to hid mid-thigh. You rested your cheek on the leather material underneath you. Biting your bottom lip, you let your legs spread wider for your lover. His silent chuckle assured you he was satisfied with this move. This was exactly how he liked you, this was his best view. Andy dedicated couple of seconds to admire your bottom, imaging how pretty you would look with both hands tied back by a thick rope. He let this image sink in his head before grabbing his cock. You couldn’t see his him, but you knew he is just looking down on you with interest.

Andy didn’t bother to begin off slow, his movements were fast and demanding from the jump, only heartened by your desperate, pathetic moans. He slid his hardness in and out at a at a fast pace. His fingers dig into the skin of your bottom, burning through it with every single push. A breathless whimper left your mouth but was quickly replaced by a loud moan.

“Like that, baby?” He hissed, entering his cock deep inside of you. By the way he held you, you could tell he wasn’t going to be gentle. One of his hands travelled to your neck, mercilessly squeezing your throat. Andy slammed into you with force, making both of you moan loudly in response. His hand adjusted to your neck like a perfect necklace before limiting your access to oxygen. This show of dominance made you crazy, you were so wet for him, so in need for more.

“Yeah, fuck, y-yes,” A desperate tone of your voice was barely recognisable for you. Your fingers urgently grabbed onto the sofa, embracing the material as hard as they could.

You knew Andy can go all night, no stops. The amount of times he left you overstimulated, begging for him to stop was insane. The pounding continued, making both of you sweaty, breathless messes. His movements were fast and heavy now, snarling curses under his breathe. The thrusts were getting erratic, he was desperate to be as deep as possible.

You lost the track of time, but it was beautiful. The feeling of him inside of you was ecstatic to say the least. He knew how to work his way around women: what to do with them, how to gift them with full satisfaction, to make them feel how you feel right now.

In need of a release, your walls cuddled his cock. “Daddy, I-, “ You only managed to gasp out the first part of your sentence before reaching your peak. A loud groan escaped your lips, leaving you speechless. The expression present on your face was pornographic; eyes shut and mouth wide open with your body twitching in response to your partner still hardly pounding you from the back.

Your legs became fatigued, completely drained by the sensations the lawyer offered you. Andy senesced it, grabbing your hips more firmly to ensure you won’t collapse. With a low groan, Andy finally let himself go. The feeling of warmth exploded within your walls, introducing you to his load. Lewd moans left his mouth as he rode out the last moments of his high. Unsteady breathing was the only sound in the living room for next couple of seconds. Andy slowly withdrew himself from your pussy as his cum made its way down your thigh, escaping your insides at a slow pace.

He removed his grip from your hips, the lack of strength within forbade your posture to stay in a doggy position. Your stomach found comfort in the sofa underneath; your muscles relaxed in result of you laying down. Your body begged for a couple of deep breathes before shifting to lay on your back. Tired and exhausted you looked up at the man who participated in enduring your current state.

“I needed that,” He finally spoke, his eyes giving you their full attention. “I’m sorry, baby. I know I’m a twisted fuck.” Andy said decisively, however, still sent you a heartfelt smile. A sincere look of love followed right after, making you feel like a stupid, overemotional teenage girl. Gosh, you loved this man. Andy lowered himself down and connected your lips together in a passionate kiss that ended, or at least postponed the argument until further notice. You knew he wasn’t finished with you tonight.

[rubysunnday]

No. Six

A/N: i actually wrote something, bloody hell (no, this isn’t Umbrella Academy despite what the title says)

Growing up in Birmingham wasn’t pretty.

Literally and figuratively.

Growing up in a family of six was even worse.

Over her nineteen years of being alive, Y/N Shelby had often wondered who or what she’d wronged in a past life to deserve being the youngest of a family of idiots. When Polly used to make her go to church on Sunday – something she’d stopped doing as soon as she could because if God was real, why was the world so shite? – she often silently asked what she’d done wrong and how she could fix it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like her family – love was a very strong word, one that wasn’t said… at all, really – they just drove her up the wall.

Ada was the one sibling who rarely managed to annoy her - the two only succeeding in driving each other insane twice and, even then, it wasn’t for long.

Her twin brother, Finn (who was only ten minutes older but seemed to think he was a whole year older), was the main culprit behind her exasperation. He wasn’t the brightest tool in the toolbox and it often led Y/N to wonder how on earth he’d survived nineteen years on the planet without even coming close to dying.

“I didn’t mean to stab myself,” Finn muttered as Ada prodded the stab wound, he’d somehow given himself whilst chopping carrots. “I thought it was the carrot.”

“Well, they do have a similar resemblance,” Y/N replied. She was sitting on the kitchen table, legs swinging back and forth, as she tried not to enjoy her brother’s pain too much.

Finn turned his head to glare at her sister, regretting it almost instantly when he accidentally looked at his very bloody hand. “Oh, fuck.”

Arthur sighed and handed Finn a bucket, begrudgingly rubbing his back as he threw up. “Alright, you’re fine.”

“Somewhere out there a tree is working very hard to replace the oxygen you consume,” Y/N said, scooting across the table, away from Finn. “Now go apologise to it.”

“You’re one too talk,” Finn groaned, head in the bucket.

“Finn, love, everything that comes out of my mouth is pure gold,” Y/N replied, picking up a piece of chicken from the plate next to her. “You lot just never fucking listen.”

“Y/N, you’re not helping,” Ada snapped, taking a moment to glare at her sister.

Y/N licked her fingers and sighed. “I know… I’ve just got nothing better to do than annoy you lot.”

When Finn wasn’t causing complete havoc in the household, it was usually John.

Despite being married – twice – and a father to far, far too many children, John still acted as if he was a child. Y/N had lost count of the amount of times she’d been woken up by John falling down the stairs because he was too drunk to remember that they went around a corner.

Out of all four of her brothers, however, John was – not that she would ever admit aloud to anyone – her favourite. He always seemed to know when she needed cheering up or when she need someone to take her mind of things.

As a rule, the Shelby’s were not a very affectionate family, but John was the exception to that rule. He gave the best hugs – the one’s that could almost piece every broken part of you back together again – and he wasn’t afraid to show his soft side to his siblings.

That didn’t stop him from being a complete twat, however.

“I was going to ask how, but then I remembered I don’t care,” Y/N said, frowning at John who had, somehow, managed to get his car wedged between a wall and tree.

John sighed, hanging his head. “Y/N, for once in your fucking life, can you just help and not make a sarcastic comment?”

“John, you’re the one who taught me to be that way,” Y/N replied, jumping down from her car and walking over to him. “Besides, what exactly do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know!” John yelled, throwing his hands up. “Fucking fix it?”

Y/N sighed, leaning on the bonnet of her car, crossing her arms. “Have you tried pushing it out?”

“Yes.”

“Driving it forward?”

“Yes.”

“Moved the branches?”

“Yes.”

“Have you tried reversing it out?”

John paused, frowning slightly. “Ah, fucking hell.”

“You’re welcome,” Y/N called, jumping back into her car. She reversed it back far enough for John to reverse his car out – albeit with a lot of screeching and swearing from both him and the car.

Tommy and Arthur never, usually, caused an issue.

Well, for Y/N, anyway.

The age gap between her and her two oldest brothers meant they’d never really gotten close or had a chance to actually be siblings. Y/N rarely talked to them since neither one was around much, both off running the company.

She saw more of Arthur than she did Tommy. She normally saw him at the Garrison when she was working – because god forbid a woman who wasn’t married be allowed to work for the Shelby Company – and she was often the one to kick him out and send him home.

Arthur was more of a parental figure in her life than a brother. Y/N didn’t remember her mother and had no recollection of their father ever being in their lives – all she remember was Arthur being the one to look out for her.

“Evening,” Y/N said as Arthur sat down at the bar, taking his hat off and burying his head in his hands.

“Mmhm,” Arthur muttered, his head dropping onto the counter with a loud thud.

Y/N turned around, setting aside the glasses she was drying, and grabbed a fresh bottle of whiskey and two glass. She placed them down and poured the whiskey out.

“On the house,” Y/N said, sliding the glass over to her brother. “Well, since you own it, it’s your own shit so who cares.”

She reached over and clinked her glass with his as Arthur looked up at her, a puzzled expression on his face. Y/N looked at him and raised an eyebrow as she swallowed the sip of whiskey she’d taken.

“Oh, what?” Y/N asked, knowing the look on her brother’s face never meant anything good.

“You’re not usually this nice,” Arthur said, picking up his glass.

“Well, I am to Polly and Ada.”

“My fucking point.”

Y/N smiled, chuckling as she finished her drink. “Well, being the youngest of six does mean all concept of ‘nice’ goes out the fucking window.”

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head as he downed his drink in one, slamming the glass back on to the table. “You know, it’s still weird seeing you in here, working… living. I keep thinking you should be back at the house, in bed or getting ready for school. Yet, here you are, wearing John’s old shirt and trousers –“

“Nah, this is your shirt,” Y/N corrected.

Despite what many people thought, Y/N wasn’t opposed to the skirts and dresses her aunt and sister wore. She just didn’t like them as much. It made running and breaking up bar fights considerably harder.

Y/N had realised that Tommy and Arthur never really bothered to mend the shirts and trousers that got holes in them. They just threw them out because they had the money to just buy new ones. Y/N – who had never quite gotten to grips with the fact they had money now – always rescued the clothes from the bin or pile of scraps and mended them enough to let her wear them.

They were always far too big, but she just rolled the waist band up or wore a belt with them and it tended to do the job.

Y/N slid the bottle of whiskey over to Arthur and nudged his hand. “Don’t seem so surprised. I never quite got over the fact we don’t have to be frugal anymore, so I took your old clothes – and Tommy’s, too – and mended them up and wore them myself. Besides, I look a lot hotter in these than I do a dress. I think it’s the waist band, it does wonders for my hips.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head as he poured himself another dink. “Y/N Shelby, you are a fucking wonder to me.”

“Why, because I’m nothing like you or Tommy?” Y/N asked, drying another glass. “You don’t see it, Arthur, but I’m a lot more like the both of you than you think. I can just hide my hatred of the world.”

Tommy was, if Y/N had to say, the sibling she had the worse relationship with. Over the years she’d realised that she was far too like her brother for them to ever get along because Tommy just constantly saw himself in her. She would’ve loved to have a better relationship with him – she was always envious of how close Ada was with him – but eventually just realised it would never happen.

Because Y/N was the spitting image of her brother, she just hid it all better.

The one and only time Y/N and Tommy had a meaningful sibling moment that didn’t involve yelling and screaming at one another was shortly after Grace had died. Y/N hadn’t seen him in weeks – he’d disappeared off the face of the earth entirely without a word – but she’d found him one night, sitting on a hill, by himself.

She’d been out riding, gotten lost and – long story short – had somehow found herself at Tommy’s house despite starting out over ten miles away.

Tommy had looked up as she rode up to him and had frowned slightly, looking around to check that it was, indeed, night time.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked as she walked up to him.

Y/N waved a hand. “Got lost, long story. More importantly,” she said, kneeling down opposite him and warming her hands in front of the fire, “why are you moping up here in the cold?”

“Doubt you’d understand, Y/N,” Tommy muttered, taking a sip of his flask.

Y/N sighed to herself, sitting cross-legged on the cold grass and leaning back on her hands. She looked up at Tommy, eyes scanning him. “Tommy, you’ve probably heard the same fucking apology speech a dozen times this past week from a dozen different people. None have helped because you blame yourself for what happened.

“Our family isn’t one for affection and, well, for being nice to each other. We never used to even be able to have a conversation without screaming at one another so, whilst I’m almost certain you are high, I’m going to add this one to the list of successful conversations.

“Tommy, look. Life is… shit. But we all knew that already. It doesn’t get any easier. It gets a whole lot worse. Losing Grace will be one of the hardest things you’ll have to live with, and you will always run that moment over in your head, wondering ‘what if?’. But, what’s the point in dwelling in the past so much you forget what a gift the present is.”

“And what fucking gift is the present gonna give me, eh?” Tommy asked, glancing at his sister, his tone cold. “My wife is dead, because of me.”

“Yet your son is still alive.”

Tommy’s cold eyes flicked up to look at Y/N. His brow furrowed slightly as he took in her words. He raised his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag of it.

“Tommy, we don’t get to decide who lives and who dies, despite what you think,” Y/N said quietly, leaning forward, her face being lit up by the fire in front of her. “Nor do we get to decide who tells our story. But, your son, is still alive and breathing. If anyone is going to tell your story and be the one to continue on your legacy, it will be him.”

Y/N stood up, dusting the leaves off the bottom of her jacket. She gave Tommy a small smile and turned around, walking back to her horse.

Tommy watched his sister as she rode off without another word, leaving him and his thoughts alone once more.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 39

First

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~~~

Listen, Marinette knew just about nothing when it comes to Thanksgiving. France doesn’t have the holiday, and she barely even knew what it was beyond the little bit of research she’d done.

But, even with her limited knowledge about the holiday, she was pretty sure they were doing something wrong.

Still…

She grinned to herself as everyone cursed each other out, hands waving wildly as they argued over each other. She melted into the background as she watched the bat family argue, drink in hand.

But how did they get to that point, you ask?

She arrived on Sunday, because Tim had told her that Thanksgiving was a week-long event in the Wayne Household.

She’d thought she’d met everyone because there were already four kids, Bruce would have been insane to get more in such a short period of time. But, apparently the man really was a serial adopter.

How’d she find this out? She walked inside and, as she raised a hand to wave at Dick, something tapped her on the shoulder. She whipped around, stunned someone had managed to sneak up on her, then blinked at the unfamiliar face.

“Hi,” she squeaked.

The girl in front of her smiled widely, her head tipping to the side. “Are you a vigilante?”

Marinette went pale. What the hell? Her eyes flicked to Dick, who looked like Christmas had come early.

Thankfully, Jason came to her rescue… even if that was by tackling Marinette in a hug. She groaned as they stumbled back a few steps.

“Nice to see you, too, Jay,” she strained. “Now get off.”

He huffed and pulled away.

“Cass thinks that Mari could be a vigilante,” said Dick with a cheeky look on his face.

Jason and Marinette tensed slightly and looked at each other.

Then, Cass gave a short laugh. “No, wait, I was wrong. Don’t worry about it, Dick.”

The oldest’s smile dropped instantly and he groaned. “Dang…”

Jason was looking at Cass curiously, but then he pulled a grin to his face. “Right, Mari, this is Cass. Cass, this is Mari.”

The two girls scrutinized each other for a few seconds before Marinette started beaming. “Oh, cool, I’m glad I wasn’t just the diversity adoptee, then,” she joked quietly.

“Nope!” Came a new voice and she looked up to see a guy leaning over a railing. “Or, I guess all three of us would have to be diversity adoptees,” he added.

She blinked and looked up at him, then waved. “How many of you guys are there? And why am I just learning about you now?”

She had sent the last part of the question to Jason and Dick, who both looked sheepish.

“A lot. There’s some missing, actually. And as for why you didn’t know us…” Duke began, hopping down to them and holding a hand out to shake. “We’re the smart ones. We got an apartment downtown so we don’t have to be around them all the time.”

Marinette gasped. “That’s allowed?” She shook his hand eagerly. “I’m moving in next week.”

Cass nodded grimly. “It’s a plan.”

The three ignored Jason and Dick’s complaints following them down the hall as they went off to definitely not talk about how stupid the (official) Wayne boys can be.

~

But this wasn’t the problem. The problem came the next day, when Tim suddenly collapsed at the breakfast table, his head hitting the wood hard enough to rattle their plates.

Marinette blinked and reached out to shake him awake, a frown on her face, only to realize that she, too, was far more tired than she should be. She narrowed her eyes slightly in suspicion, eyeing the coffee mug beside her.

Then she rested a hand over her heart.

It was beating normally…

No. Way.

She pushed herself to her feet despite her exhaustion.

“ALRIGHT WHICH ONE OF YOU DECAFFED THE COFFEE?!”

The hall went silent. Except for Tim, who had managed to wake himself up. “Hm?” He murmured, sitting up and rubbing his forehead where he’d hit it on the table.

“Our coffee is decaf.”

That got him awake. He did the same quick check of his heart rate and then got to his feet as well. “WHO DID THIS?!”

“I KNOW RIGHT?!” Marinette took a deep breath to steel herself and then turned her gaze on everyone’s faces. No one was giving anything away. “Right. Whoever it was, fess up now and I promise we won’t do anything.”

“You promise you won’t do anything,” Tim muttered.

She stepped on his foot. He was not going to ruin this for them.

There was a silence as the family eyed each other suspiciously.

After a bit, Duke raised his hand. “I did. Thought it would be good for you two.”

Marinette glanced at Tim to see if this was something he would do, because she had, ultimately, had only one conversation with him.

Tim sighed. “Cute, but no you didn’t. You’re not stupid enough to.”

Duke rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

The hall was silent and the addicts gave each other a small nod.

Marinette spun on her heel and grabbed Tim by the arm.

“Where are you going?” Yelled Dick after them.

“You’ll see!”

~

They realized what she’d meant when Jason screamed.

Every single one of the vigilantes ran to his room to make sure he was alive, only to find it looking like a hurricane had hit. Jason stood at a chest at the foot of his bed, and as they watched he threw an old hubcap over his shoulder.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE MY GUNS?”

Marinette and Tim tried their hardest not to smile.

“MARI. TIM. TELL ME OR I SWEAR ILL --.”

“There’s some guns over there,” Marinette said sweetly, pointing to the top shelf of Jason’s closet.

He sent her a glare as he went over. “At least you fessed up…” He muttered, pulling down a cute box with the words ‘Definitely not Jason’s guns :D’ scrawled across the front. He opened it with a relieved look on his face, only for that expression to drop instantly.

He pulled out a set of water guns.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” He yelled, his eyes shooting back to the group at the door...

Only to find Tim and Marinette had disappeared.

~

Marinette scoffed. “This isn’t going to work,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Trust me,” Tim said, smiling.

“Hard to trust the guy holding a giant balloon to his lips.”

Tim rolled his eyes and walked to the door of Dick’s room and inhaled the air in the balloon.

“Dick?” He called through the door, his voice a perfect imitation of Bruce’s.

Ah, the wonders of sulfur hexafluoride.

“Yes, dad?” Yelled Dick.

Marinette and Tim grinned at each other. Then, he schooled his face into a calm expression and inhaled again.

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?”

There was a short silence. And then…

“Maybe? What did I forget?”

They didn’t answer.

“Dad? What did I forget?” He asked, sounding more panicked.

They remained silent, quickly ducking into the room across the hall before Dick threw the door open.

“DAD?”

~

Damian burst into the room.

Marinette looked up from where she was cooking with Tim (... in the same vicinity, she would never let him near food again). “Hey, Dami, what’s up?”

“Have you two seen Jerry?”

The two looked at each other and then at the oven.

Marinette rubbed the back of her neck. “Jerry? The turkey?”

“Yes. Have you seen him?” Said Damian, who was getting more and more impatient.

Tim coughed awkwardly. “Uhhhh…”

“Wait, what’re you cooking?”

The two looked at each other. “UHHHHH…”

Damian’s eyes widened and he ran out the door, yelling one name over and over again: “RICHARD!”

When he’d managed to drag Dick into the kitchen, they found Jerry the turkey safe and sound on the counter.

On top of the stove they saw instructions for when to get the turkey in the oven out for it to be good.

But what they couldn’t seem to catch sight of were Tim and Marinette.

~

Retaliation was inevitable.

Didn’t mean they didn’t hate it.

Marinette ran into the living room where everyone was and glared them all down. They all gave her innocent looks.

She wasn’t buying it.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Jason, smiling as he looked up from his book.

Tim burst into the room, a crazed look in his eyes. “WHERE IS MY LAPTOP?!”

“AND WHILE YOURE AT IT TELL ME WHERE MY FABRICS AND SKETCHBOOK ARE!”

Dick smiled placatingly. “Now, guys, Thanksgiving is supposed to be about family --.”

“CAN IT SANTAYANA! WHERE IS MY WORK?!”

All anyone could do was shrug.

The family sent each other glares. It was clear by now: this was war.

~

The next day, Marinette found her hand literally glued to the coffee pot. She attempted to pry it off, only to realize that maybe this was a good thing.

She smiled at the excuse to take her drink around with her…

Right up until she realized Tim was now practically hanging off of her in order to get his fix.

The two were near murdering each other by the end of the day, their alliance on a string. The only thing holding it together was how it was five on two.

~

Bruce walked into breakfast, his clothes an atrocious shade of pink.

All of the kids looked at each other like they were trying to confirm that, yes, this was happening and they weren’t in fact losing their minds.

“Who. Did. This?” Asked Bruce, his eyes flickering over all their faces.

Every finger pointed at Marinette, who cursed mentally. Sure, they were all fighting. And sure, she was probably the only one who knew how to do it. And sure, he was one of her targets...

What was her point again?

Oh, right: traitors!

She smiled nonetheless. What was he going to do? Ground her? She could just leave, really. He couldn’t retaliate in any meaningful way.

Bruce strode over and… rested a hand on her shoulder, sending his kids a glare. “Honestly, though, who did it?”

Huh?

“Did you really think I’d believe it was her? Come on, kids, she’s an angel.”

Marinette realized what was going on and a laugh slipped from her lips, and she quickly covered it with a cough.

“But, dad, she really did --!” Tried Jason.

“Stop trying to blame your sister! She’s too nice to do this!”

He’d better stop! She was going to break a rib.

The boys seemed to realize that one of them was getting in trouble. Jason and Damian pointed at Tim. Tim pointed at Damian. Dick pointed at himself.

With a majority vote, Tim was dragged out by his father, but not before he caught her eyes and mouthed the words ‘I’m getting you back for this.’

She smiled and blew him a kiss, waving him off.

After a few minutes, when she was sure Bruce was out of earshot, she finally burst into laughter. “What… what just happened?” She choked out.

Duke clapped her on the back. “Welcome to the ‘can get away with anything’ club. It’s great.”

Cass nodded and flashed a thumbs up.

~

It was officially a free-for-all.

She walked out in Cass’s clothes and glared at Tim. Sure, it wasn’t nearly as rude as any of the stuff they’d done to mess with his family, but it was the principle of the thing.

Cass walked out in Marinette’s clothes.

They locked eyes and seemed to come to an agreement.

~

She walked out into the foyer to find Tim hanging upside down from the ceiling by one ankle.

“Bean?”

She looked up and smiled. “Yes, sweetie?”

His face reddened slightly. Or, maybe, the blood was rushing to his head. Who knows.

“Help?”

She grinned as she watched him struggle to keep his shirt from falling, leaning against the railing. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. “Nice one, Cass,” she called, then ducked out the door.

His curses followed her as she sprinted to the other side of the house.

~

By Thanksgiving day, pranks had from a few times a day to once an hour.

Dick was still dripping paint from the one time he’d walked into his room and gotten nailed by a paint bucket.

Damian and Tim were attempting to break the handcuffs binding them together with everything from katanas to guns.

Marinette’s skin was still tinged red in places from when the cranberry sauce had exploded on her.

Jason was tearing at his straitjacket with his teeth.

Bruce was wearing a Superman onesie because everything else in his size was missing.

Cass was attempting to untie the Gordian knot that was her shoelaces.

And Duke was completely fine, watching the chaos from above. After all, as Tim had said, he was far too smart to get involved in their shenanigans.

~

But, finally, Thanksgiving dinner was over.

Marinette smiled as she finally set down her fork.

Duke rested his head on his hand. “Hey, Mari, who’s your favorite bat?”

She blinked once and felt everyone’s eyes turn on her. Despite how everyone was very much annoyed with her, they seemed very interested in her answer.

Still, she couldn’t very much avoid answering unless she wanted to make it obvious she knew who they all were. So, she rested her head in her hand.

She glanced around at everyone’s expectant faces.

Well, she was leaving soon anyways.

She schooled her face into a mask of boredom. “If I had to choose, I guess Robin.”

She suppressed a snicker at the instant uproar that this caused. Even though Damian and Tim knew she knew their identities and therefore could probably guess that she was only messing with them, this didn’t keep Damian from puffing his chest a little or Tim from deflating. Jason, as her mentor, looked outright offended.

Dick held up a hand. “Wait, obviously you mean the original Robin, right?”

“Nah, he was a showoff. Current Robin all the way.”

Now Dick looked offended, too.

She grinned to herself as everyone argued over each other, attempting to convince her that they were in fact the best bat. Marinette sunk into the shadows.

She smiled as Cass joined her in the corner, watching the chaos unfold.

Cass grinned. “You could have just been honest and said Tim, you know.”

Marinette blinked once. She looked the girl next to her up and down and then decided she trusted her. It wasn’t like not trusting her was going to somehow fix the fact that she’d somehow figured out everything about her in seconds.

“Yeah, but that would be less fun.”

She snickered and nodded. “You should probably run.”

Marinette was about to ask why when a plate of mashed potatoes crashed into the wall between them. She broke into a wide grin.

“No, I think I’ll stay.”

~~~

Aka Duke creates chaos without consequences for 2.5k words because everyone agrees “he wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that”

~

Taglist

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