#till i reminded her that my mothers side of the family has a history of stomach cancer

[i-want-a-slurpee]

Nausea came back hard suddenly and I'm miserable ughhhh

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which harry’s your soulmate and you don’t quite know that yet.

a/n: hello angels! i bring you soulmate!harry for my loveliest friend @sweetcreatureinthedark​ ‘s fic party! i chose the prompt “i’ve been in love with you, i’ll be in love with you.” i’ll be honest, this was tough to write, and somewhat was testing my writing abilities lol, but we made it through and I love it! so i hope you all do too! be kind and pls leave feedback and rb! :’)

thank you to @sunflowers-styles for beta reading and putting up with the mess lol love you always <3

WORD COUNT: 15.4k of friends to lovers, soulmates, physicaltherapist!harry x professor!yn

WARNINGS: slight angst, mentions of heart condition and flatlining

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘YOUR BEATING HEART’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

There was a saying that your Nonna had always said to you ever since you were a little girl, one that she made sure was ingrained into your mind for the rest of your life. 

‘Someone is destined to your mind, soul, and heart.’

Your mother, Kath, had told you that she had repeated those words ever since you were barely a year old. Nonna had said them so much that they could’ve practically been your first words. She would say that statement along with: ‘There is someone out there who already loves you, they’re just waiting for the right moment. That right moment will be up to the universe.’ 

The concept of soulmates has been around for thousands of years, and Nonna was such a sucker for it. Having met hers when she was sixteen years old, she made sure she taught her family the power of having a soulmate. She told Kath that if she wasn’t around for you, then Kath was supposed to teach you. Luckily, she’s still around though because that woman is one of the best you’ll ever know. 

When you were old enough to go to school, the teachers taught you about soulmates as well. When you turn thirteen, you’re able to find who your soulmate is because the power inside of you ignites, guiding you through the world to find your person. The universe was…weird like that; teaching children that they were going to find love at such a young age. You were taught that you were born to be loved by someone, and since you didn’t know any better, you listened. Nonna then started to explain the meaning and importance of soulmates. You were fascinated by it as she would explain it so enthusiastically to you while you listened with wide and curious eyes, making sure you didn’t miss a single word of what she said. 

As a shy ten-year-old, you couldn’t wait till you were older so you could find your soulmate, thinking it would be a fun adventure to see who you would click with. Nonna always said that ‘when you know, you know.’ 

Once you hit seventeen, however, you slowly believed less and less in the idea of a soulmate, and maybe that was because you were trying to force the feeling of trying to click with every person you met, but you lived through your adolescent years listening to your friends rave about how their soulmate was so perfect when yours hadn’t even shown up. They were all smiles while you were all frowns, a disappointed look was planted on your face when you would come to realize you were probably going to be alone and that the universe had forgotten about you. 

At eighteen, living in a world of soulmates, you believed you didn’t have one. 

That’s how you lived your life. 

When you went to college, the idea of being bound to another person was pushed to the back of your mind and you started to live your life more freely. You didn’t have the constant pressure in your head, telling you to find your one true love because you believed there wasn’t a ‘one true love.’ Your Nonna was a bit sad to see you live thinking that no one was out there to love you, but you realized that you didn’t want to sit and wait around for the perfect person, you wanted to venture out. 

Throughout college, you lived…a lot. You met new people, hooked up a bit, and didn’t have the recurring thought in your head about your particular soulmate.

That was until you met Eric. 

You met him your last year of college; and he was a year older than you. You met him on campus while he was meeting up with one of his old professors whose classroom you just happened to be in as he walked in, and you had immediately taken a liking to him. Besides the fact that you were sexually attracted to him, you didn’t think you would see him again until you met him again at a coffee shop that was not too far from campus. Eric invited you to take a seat with him, to which you said yes, and the rest was history. You and Eric were together for three years. In that time you were able to find a stable job, and you lived life together before he proposed to you. You thought life couldn’t get better than this--you had the greatest fiance and a job you didn’t hate, which was teaching Anatomy at a community college. 

Eric had made you believe in love. Soulmates, however? Not quite. Although at times it felt like he was your soulmate, that was just you trying to force something again. He was your soulmate without all of the characteristics a soulmate would have. 

Nonna had always told you that your eyes would sparkle while looking at them, so intently to where you couldn’t stop staring at them, thinking you two were the only ones in the room even with so many people around. That you would feel the spark igniting between you and your soulmate, causing your body to feel warm as the physical pull would bring you together. That your heart would beat ten times faster when you knew who that person was, and that the erratic beating wouldn't seem to stop because your soulmate’s heart was also beating at the same pace. 

When it came to Eric, you were able to look away and you were aware of your surroundings. When you were close to him, you didn’t feel that magnetic pull. When you looked at him, your heart seemed to calm down to where you didn’t feel like it was pounding through your chest. When you looked at him…you didn’t think he was your soulmate anymore. It’s crazy to even think that you thought he was before when you didn’t believe in the concept, but there was no attraction or pull towards him, and the timing could have been better. Actually, it could be so much better. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” you muttered into the mic as several gasps were heard from the family and friends that had gathered for the moment. 

You were dressed in a white, lace dress with a veil clipped onto the top of your head. It was your wedding day, and you were telling the supposed love of your life that you couldn’t marry him anymore because the thoughts about soulmates had barged inside of your mind during Eric’s vows, making you think thoughts that you wished you wouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Eric wasn’t your soulmate, and you damn well knew that you weren’t his either.

“W-What are you doing?” Eric whispered as he looked at you with wide eyes that told you not to embarrass him right here, right now. 

“I’m so sorry, Eric. I can’t marry you,” you said more clearly, not really telling him but also telling the crowd. 

The officiant of your wedding was your friend, Vic, and she looked at you with a shocked expression as she was just as speechless as everyone else. You knew they didn’t have to say or ask anything for you to know what they really wanted to say; they wanted to ask you what you were doing and what caused the sudden decision to not marry someone you’ve been with for four years. 

You could ask yourself the same question. Better yet, you would like to ask the universe why, especially on your wedding day, why they decided to suddenly pop inside your head, reminding you all of the bullshit people feel when they find their soulmate. 

Eric looked at you with worry, eyes slightly watering as if it was his worst nightmare come true. But you couldn’t carry on with this while neglecting the feeling that was inside your heart and mind. You couldn’t marry him as those thoughts were screaming at you, telling you that you made the wrong decision. Those said thoughts were telling you that your true soulmate was out there somewhere, physically and emotionally hurting because their soulmate decided to marry someone else. Your marriage would be ruined entirely if you went through with it. 

“I-I’m sorry…” is what you said to him with a pout on your face as he shook his head. You started heading down the aisle, ignoring the disappointed, sad, and angry looks your guests, especially his family, were giving you as you walked away from the altar that held the man you had given four years of your life to.

Once you reached the middle of the aisle, you started to jog. Picking up your dress so you wouldn't trip over it, you started to run as you couldn’t take the way the people were looking at you. 

Without glancing back, you headed over to the black Mercedes that waited for the newlyweds on the curb. Your driver, Jackson, had turned around in his seat, smiling but when he didn’t see the groom, his smile disappeared, also noticing that you had a disappointed look on your face as well. You found a clean napkin on the side of the door, asking him if he had a pen. 

“How long are you willing to drive?” You asked.

“I’ll take you to wherever you need me to,” he replied. You smiled gratefully, writing down the address that made you feel at home before handing him the napkin. 

He immediately started the car before typing in the address into his phone, driving away from the venue that had relied and counted on you being a wife today. 

And you didn’t regret your actions for one second. 

Soft, cold winds rushed through you as your skin pebbled from the sudden draft while standing against the white wooden railing of the balcony in the main bedroom. The calm waves immediately put you at ease from the anxiety that you were feeling hours prior, as harsh thoughts pushed their way through your head, telling yourself that you were a disappointment—that you disappointed everyone at the venue. 

The shakiness of your hands was replaced by the grasp of the railing as you looked out to the distant sunset. The day wasn’t all that sunny, since the sun was setting behind the clouds. There weren’t that many people out on the beach either, but you were glad because you needed to feel like you were the only person on this Earth. 

Coming to the beach house was the first thing that came to your mind when you decided to walk out. You knew that Eric wouldn’t find you here because he didn’t know about it, plus you just wanted to be alone without the constant questions that came from your ex-fiancé and your family. 

You felt bad, of course you did, and you didn’t know how to begin explaining to Eric that he was just someone that you couldn’t marry because the previously pushed thoughts had come back to your mind right as you stood at the altar. But right now, you were wallowing in fears that overtook your mind, thinking that everyone was going to absolutely hate you, which you think they did anyway once you walked out. 

Setting the wine glass down onto the railing, you looked down at the few pedestrians who walked by on the beach, getting in a last-minute venture before it got too dark. You smiled, thinking about the soulmate crap the universe had made you think about your entire life because any of these people could be the person you would love for your entire life, and you wouldn’t even know. 

You groaned to yourself, leaning your body away from the railing and putting your forehead on your forearms. You stayed there for a moment, thinking about how exhausted you were, especially since wine makes you tired, including the long day of getting ready all for nothing. 

When you stood back up, you had accidentally knocked your glass over the railing, the glass barely making a sound once it landed on the sand. 

“Fuck…” you looked over the railing to see where your glass landed before you headed down the stairs. Once you made it near the bottom, you hadn’t seen the last two steps because they were covered by sand, so you completely fell on your face into the sand, making you gasp loudly from the sudden fall.

Laughing hysterically at your fall as you felt the embarrassment on your cheeks, you rolled over onto your back as you closed your eyes and laughed until you cried. You covered your face as you began to sob, feeling truly sorry for yourself. You never meant for this to happen. You were supposed to be happy, and you were sure you ruined someone else’s happiness. 

After a few moments, you got up and brushed the sand off your clothes and face, and shook your hair so the excess sand could fall out. You sniffled, walking over to where your wine glass landed before your phone rang in your pocket. It was your mom calling, and you knew you couldn’t ignore it. You were planning to ignore everyone’s calls and texts before you went back to your hometown in just a few days, but it was your mother--you couldn’t hit decline, especially right now. 

“Hello?” You answered. 

“Hi, my lovely. You okay?” Kath was surprisingly calm because you thought she would’ve been freaking out. 

“Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m good.” You walked back to the stairs and decided to sit on the bottom of the steps as you watched the calming ocean in front of you. 

“Can I ask where you are?” She asked hesitantly. 

“I’m at Papa’s house and I’m safe. No need to worry,” you reassured, smiling softly, even though she couldn’t see you. 

“Okay, good. I figured you were there. I understand you need space, but call me if you need anything, got it?” Kath was always a worrier, like every mom, but she seemed to worry about you a lot more than usual. 

“Got it. Love you, Mom.” 

“Love you too, my lovely. Oh, and,” she caught you before you were able to hang up. “I get why you did what you did, and I’m not mad. You’ll find them soon, okay?” Your eyes watered a bit, and you nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. You heard Kath blow a kiss through the phone before she hung up. You always loved how your mom was always able to understand you without you having to say anything at all. She was great like that, and you loved her dearly for it. 

Pressing decline to what felt like the hundredth call from your in-laws and friends in the last two weeks made you roll your eyes and want to turn your phone off completely. 

You knew that you had to call and text these people back eventually, but right now, you didn’t want to explain. You already had the anxiety from your actions weighing you down already, and these people would most likely scream over the phone as they demanded an explanation as to why you did what you did, and you really didn’t need that at the moment. 

All you wanted to do was go back to the beach house and sit on the balcony as you watched the ocean; all far away from your problems. 

You were unofficially a single woman, and you could look at all the men and women you wanted now that you were single. The nagging voice in your head was constantly bothering you, leaving you no room to think about what you might say to Eric when you meet up with him. He had stopped calling you a week ago, and since you weren’t entirely cruel, you shot him a text, saying that you were fine and that you’ll talk to him when you were ready because quite frankly, you needed to wrap your head around your thoughts. He was a sweetheart in that way, giving you space when you were the one to walk out on him and needed to explain things. You truly didn’t deserve him. 

Unlocking the door to Nonna’s house with your spare key, you found her sitting on the couch watching TV. “Hey, Nonna,” you greeted, and she perked her head towards the door. 

She softly smiled, getting up from the couch before she walked over to you. She didn’t greet you like she always did, which made you a little nervous because you thought she might be mad at you, but when her arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into a hug, you relaxed. 

“Hi, Chip.” Her nickname for you came out with a smile against your shoulder. She had started calling you ‘Chip’ ever since you were a toddler. You had always wanted a bag of chips to munch on, and the nickname seemed to stick because you were still the same. 

Nonna pulled back, guiding you to sit with her on the couch. “How are you, love? I haven’t seen you in weeks,” she asked as she pouted, giving you a look of concern. 

You smiled to ease her worry. “I’m doing okay. How are you?” You grabbed her hand from her lap to hold it, the gesture making her smile a bit. 

“Okay as well. Worried about you. Haven’t seen you since the wedding…” 

You huffed out. “Yeah, Nonna, I just wanted to say I’m sorry-” 

“Chip, what do you need to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was my wedding. I understand why you did that,” she reassured you. 

“You do?” You looked at her with a soft look. If there was anyone that you wanted approval or reassurance from, it was your Nonna. 

“Of course, I do. Look, I know I told you about soulmates ever since you were younger, and throughout the years, it pained me to see you think that you didn’t have one. So, I didn’t push the idea onto you anymore. I wanted you to live your life, and when you met Eric, I thought he was nice, but I just knew he wasn’t the one,” she explained, making your brows raise. 

“You knew?” Nonna nodded. “H-How?” 

“Because you would’ve told me right away when you met him. You would’ve told me that you felt everything that I had told you for years, and suddenly when you met Eric, you didn’t talk about those things. I knew on the outside, you made it seem like you weren’t into the idea of soulmates, and that may be the case, but I know deep down that you still care about it. You want someone to cherish you and love you as we all do. You were excited up until you were seventeen because your friends had found theirs already, and all of a sudden you didn’t care. I know you’re still looking, but just wait a little, yeah?” Nonna always had a way with her wisdom, and she had that kind of intuition that made you feel a little less worried. The words that came out of your mouth weren’t much of a shock to you because Nonna was smart like that. You hadn’t realized all of the things she had picked up throughout your relationship with Eric, but you were grateful that she caught those things because it made it easier to talk to her. 

“You know way too much, stop,” you joked, making her laugh. You laid your head on her shoulder, embracing the moment with her as you thought about how grateful you are for her. She was truly the closest person to you, and you didn’t know what you would do without her. Suddenly, the doorbell rang as she got up from the couch. “Expecting someone?” 

“Must be my personal delivery boy,” she raised her brows teasingly, and you furrowed your brows in confusion. She had always mentioned someone dropping by to drop some things off from her next-door neighbor, and yet, you hadn’t met this neighbor of hers. Nonna opened the door and the person behind it wasn’t someone you were expecting. “Oh, thank you, dear!” She grabbed the set of glass bowls. “Would you like to come in?” 

The man behind the door said, “I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“No, please! Come and meet my granddaughter.” Nonna opened the door wider, so her guest could look into her house, and that was when he saw you, standing in the entryway with your mouth slightly open. “Harry, this is my lovely granddaughter--the one I’ve been telling you about.”

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he said breathlessly. His gaze was trained right on you, and Nonna looked between you two as the both of you looked at one another with shock. 

“Hi, uh, Y/N,” you shook his hand as you were quite speechless. He was quite attractive and looked young. He had short, curly brown hair that was pushed back with a red patterned bandana. He wore a black Nike jacket, shorts, and running shoes. 

There was a moment of silence between you two as the both of you looked at each other. His expression was soft as his eyes seemed to burn into you, making you captivated by his stare. It felt like time had stopped for a moment as you two looked into each other’s eyes, trying to map out what the intent stare really meant. Could it be? Before you allowed yourself to feel the imaginative spark, you broke out of your trance, placing your head down as you thought for a moment. He cleared his throat to relieve the silence as he scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere other than you. 

“I’m just going to put these away,” Nonna broke the silence as she smirked to herself while leaving the room and to the kitchen before you let out a breath. 

Harry smiled amusingly, chuckling a tad bit. His dimples popped out when he did so and you thought he was the cutest thing to ever walk the Earth. You walked closer to him so you were in the spot Nonna was prior as Harry was still standing on the doorstep. 

“Hi,” you simply greeted. 

Harry’s smile widened. “Hello.” 

“So, uh, how do you know Nonna again?” You asked curiously, tilting your head as you placed your hand on the doorknob on the other side, leaning against the door. 

“My mum lives next door actually. She and Tallie are quite close friends, so I would see your Nonna every time I would visit Mum, and Mum would have me bring things over sometimes—whatever the two talked about,” he explained, and you nodded understandingly, thinking that it was truly a small world. 

“How long has your mom lived there?” You wondered. 

“About a year and a half now,” he answered. Your brows furrowed as you were genuinely confused about why you haven’t met Harry before because you would always visit Nonna. He looked at you oddly as well, wondering the same thing. 

He’s known Tallie ever since Anne moved next door, and also found it strange that he’s never met you before. Tallie had mentioned her daughter, which was your mother, and has met Kath before--many times. She also mentioned you briefly, but he’s never seen any pictures of you, so he wouldn’t have recognized you if he met you. 

“That’s strange, isn’t it?” You suddenly asked, and Harry nodded his head. Before he could say anything more, Nonna walked into the room. 

“You kids doing okay?” She asked, and you smiled at her, nodding your head. “Do you two want to make some bread?” She suggested enthusiastically. You and Harry both chuckled, looking at one another briefly before you both said yes. Nonna clapped her hands, urging you two to follow her into the kitchen. “The dough has been resting for an hour already, so if you two could do me a favor and knead it for me, that would be great.” 

After the three of you washed your hands, Nonna instructed you on how she would like her bread to be shaped like breadsticks. You and Harry complied as she was making the butter. 

“So, Y/N, what do you do for a living?” He sparked up a conversation as he kneaded the dough; you were doing the same. 

“I teach at the college about an hour away. Anatomy and Physiology professor,” you said humbly, and his brows raised. 

“You sure know a lot about the body then…” he suddenly pointed out, eyes widening immediately as he stopped kneading. “That was really weird, I’m sorry.” You laughed loudly as he cringed at himself. “I was just trying to state the obvious since you studied anatomy, and it went smoother in my head.” His cheeks turned into a pink tint color as he scratched his neck--something that you already noticed he did when he felt nervous or awkward--feeling the embarrassment rush through him. 

You chuckled, looking up from the dough. “No worries. You’re…cute.” Harry didn’t say anything but shyly smile. 

“What about you?” 

“Besides living in general,” he started, and you laughed. “I’m a physical therapist. I work at the hospital downtown.” 

“Ah, interesting. So, you would know a lot about the body too then, huh?” You teased, placing his words in your mouth. 

Harry genuinely laughed loudly, filling the kitchen with his sounds. “Perhaps I do. That was a good one,” he said once he calmed down from his laughter. You beamed at him before you studied him a bit, trying not to get caught. 

You were so caught up in how focused he looked while kneading the dough, and the way his lips curled in as he rolled it between his hands. His hands were naked from the rings that you had seen prior before he took them off for this task, but the way his hands were built and what they could do had you limitlessly daydreaming for what seemed like forever. They looked strong, but they were pretty. The orange nail polish contrasted between the bulging veins in his hands, leaving a very fine line between it all. 

If you looked any longer, you would be drooling at the thought of this man’s hands, but luckily, Nonna tapped you and by the look on her face, she had caught you eyeing her delivery boy. “Yes, Nonna?” 

“Might wanna speed up the process, yeah?” She suggested, with her voice in a teasing manner. All you did was nod as you huffed out a chuckle before proceeding. 

After a bit more conversation with Harry, the dough was finally going into the oven, leaving an excited Nonna while Harry was placing the tray onto the rack. 

“Tallie, I would hate to not try the bread after it’s done, but I should probably get back to my Mum…” 

“Oh, go ahead, dear! I’m sorry to keep you for so long. I’ll be sure to bring some by when it’s done.” She reached up to hug him. “Be sure to tell Anne I said thank you for lending me the bowls, and thanks to you for delivering it.” 

“Always a pleasure. I’ll see you soon. Uh, Y/N,” he called out as you gave him your attention. “Walk me out?” You smiled, nodding your head. Harry said one last goodbye to Nonna before you followed him out of the house. 

“It was nice meeting you,” you told him, walking onto the sidewalk. You two were walking slowly since Anne’s house was right next door, and it seemed like you two wanted more time with one another even though it wasn’t said out loud. It was like you two already knew. 

“You as well,” he said honestly. You were standing right in front of you in Anne’s driveway, not quite wanting to leave just yet. 

Your heart started racing uncontrollably fast as you looked up at him. His green eyes still shined bright in the gloomy sky that looked like it was about to downpour any second, but they had caught your eye immediately, and you were completely lost in them. You weren’t able to look away and think how alluring his trance was. Your mind had stopped itself from long jumping into the conclusion that was begging you to finish the story, so you pulled your stare away instantly. 

“Uh, well. I’ll see you soon probably?” You asked, backing away from him. Harry slightly frowned but made sure not to make it obvious. 

“Yeah, you will,” he nodded, stepping back as he offered a friendly smile. 

“Bye, Harry,” you waved at him before you turned around and walked away. 

Harry walked into Anne’s home and straight to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He took a deep breath as he tried to calm down, heart beating outstandingly out of his chest that he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. When Harry walked into Tallie’s home, his heart was beating ten times faster ever since he saw you. He simply couldn’t stop staring at you, and the only way he stopped was when you had broken the stare. He definitely felt the spark there, and he wondered if you did too. He sure hoped so because he had never felt that strong of a feeling inside of him with anyone else. 

Anne walked into the kitchen once she heard the commotion from upstairs, and saw her son leaning against the counter, head down and eyes closed, and that’s when she began to worry. 

“Harry? Love, are you okay?” She ran to his side, placing her hand on his arm. Harry continued to take deep breaths, increasing Anne’s concern. “Answer me, please. You’re scaring me.” The sound of her voice was breaking Harry’s heart as he never wanted his mother to be concerned or scared, but naturally, as a mom, it was her job to be. 

“Mum, it’s her. It’s really her,” he breathed out a laugh as his voice was strained from the lack of breath he had. 

“What?” 

“Her name’s Y/N. She’s Tallie’s granddaughter. My soulmate.” His eyes watered that was quickly followed by slight tears that streamed down his face, feeling so overwhelmed by the joy that overtook him. 

“She’s here, huh?” Anne had tears in her eyes as she felt extremely happy for her son. All the heartbreaks and search for his soulmate had ended once he met you, knowing that it was going to change his life forever. Harry nodded, brushing the tears away from his face. 

All the signs were there; the gleaming stare, the spark that shocked him, the magnetic pull between you two, his heart rate rising, and he felt like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you. That’s when he knew. 

You were his soulmate. 

The rain had poured down quite heavily as Harry ran inside the apartment complex with his small umbrella that had barely kept him dry. 

Shaking the excess water on his umbrella and wiping his shoes onto the floor mat, he rushed towards the open elevator before it closed because it always took a while to land in the lobby. 

“Hold the doors, please!” He called out, quickly running his fastest while trying not to slip. A hand was seen between the doors as the doors reopened. Harry got into the elevator, taking a deep breath. 

“Harry?” He looked back at the other person who was in the elevator, and you were softly smiling at him as you took off your hood. You were wearing a burnt orange raincoat that he thought looked absolutely adorable on you, a university sweater underneath, black pants, along with black leather boots. Your eyes lit up at the presence of him, making him smile widely, feeling the attraction from you once again. 

“H-Hi,” he stumbled over his words, to which he mentally slapped himself. He cleared his throat, “How are you?” I miss you, he wanted to say. It had been about two weeks since he last saw you at Tallie’s house, and considering you were his soulmate, that seemed like a very long time. There was no doubt that Harry had been on your mind since you met him. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you overthink every possible thing he could mean to you. It was crazy to think that he wouldn’t leave your brain considering you had just met him. You concluded that Harry was just an attractive man, the first man you’ve ever looked at that way since Eric. 

“Good!” You said too overly excited, making Harry chuckle at your chirpy voice. You fake coughed, making your voice a tad bit lower. “Good, yeah. What about you?” 

“Doing great!” The elevator doors open, and Harry stepped aside, letting you in first before he followed. “Do you live here?” 

“Yeah, I do. This is me,” you stopped walking and stood in front of apartment 425 as you fiddled with your keys, nervously. You’ve been living here ever since you graduated college, and you didn’t fully move in with Eric because you planned to move in with him after you two got married, so luckily, you didn’t get rid of this place. “Do you also live here or are you visiting someone?” 

“I live here too. I’m actually on the floor above yours, like directly above.” Harry realized that he didn’t even press the button to his floor in the elevator. 

“525?” You asked as your brows furrowed. Harry nodded, giving you a small smile. “No way! Guess we’re neighbors…in a way?” You chuckled, and Harry grinned. 

“Guess we are,” he slightly giggled. 

“Uh, did you want to come in?” You asked. Harry’s eyes widened a bit, surprised by your offer, and you saw how shocked he was. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s raining and thought it’d be nice to have some company.” 

“I’d love to. Thank you,” he responded, nodding his head. You smiled as you proceeded to unlock the door, stepping inside as Harry followed behind you. 

The layout of your apartment was the same as his since he was on the same side and right above you, but there was something about your apartment that felt like…home to him. He thought it had to do with the fact that it’s your space and you were in it because no one’s home felt like this besides yours. You had a few small potted plants along the windowsill along with a large one in the corner. Right next to the plant was a small wooden table with your red record player on top of it. A mustard yellow velvet couch was pushed against the wall facing the TV that rested on a white shelf bookcase that held many books and vinyl records in the cubbies along with random knick-knacks on the surface. A wooden round coffee table was placed in the middle with a vanilla candle on top of a few fashion magazines. Underneath the table was a white rug that looked warm to dig his feet in on a cold day. Three concert posters that were framed were hung on the wall, and he knew you were his soulmate because the three bands that you had on your wall were his absolute favorite; Fleetwood Mac, Queen, and The Beatles. 

His heart fluttered as he looked around, feeling like this was a part of you that he finally knew now. This part of you felt like home to him as he was immediately washed over with the feeling of comfort right when he stepped into your apartment. He felt so welcomed that it was going to be difficult for him to leave your space. 

“Make yourself at home.” Definitely home, he thought. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” You asked, taking out a saucepan from the cupboards. 

“I would love some,” he smiled, sitting on the couch where he could see you pour the milk into the pot. After a few moments, he saw you rush back into the living area. 

“Sorry, let me put some music on.” You kneeled on the hardwood floors to look at your collection before you turned your head back to him. “Any requests?” 

“Any Christmas song would be lovely and very fitting,” he requested. It was the beginning of December, and Harry was in the holiday mood. Plus, you were preparing hot chocolate, so it is more than appropriate. 

You smiled, nodding your head as you ran your fingers along your selection before pulling one out. Harry noticed the cover art as you pulled the record out.  Ultimate Christmas by Frank Sinatra played on the record player, filling the room with melodious tunes. You walked back to the kitchen before flashing him a smile. He sat on the couch and soaked in the music as he heard humming from the kitchen, and he grinned. Harry felt a warm feeling in his chest as he saw you stir in the hot cocoa into the hot milk as you hummed White Christmas. This moment right here and right now was something he wanted to experience every single day--where you would make hot cocoa as he would watch you with sparkling eyes, thinking how Frank Sinatra’s voice fitted so well with the holiday vibe. 

You came back with two red mugs with a bright smile on your face. “Do you mind placing the coasters on the table?” Your eyes pointed at the coasters underneath the candle. Harry nodded and placed two glass coasters onto the table, and he took a good look at both of them. One of the coasters stated ‘Be Kind’ in pink, and the other printed ‘Love Wins’ in multiple colors. He smiled, knowing the smallest things in your apartment was making him fall for you even more. 

“Hope you like it. I also should’ve asked what you liked with your hot chocolate but I just assumed you liked the same thing as me,” you chuckled nervously. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, but you think it had to do with the fact that another man was in your apartment that wasn’t Eric. 

Harry looked down at his hot chocolate. There were several marshmallows in the hot drink and a scoop of whipped cream with chocolate shavings to complete the drink. He smiled to himself as he took a sip, covering up his flustered demeanor. 

“It’s exactly what I wanted. I drink mine the same way,” he replied, and you smirked. 

“Glad I know a man with great taste,” you teasingly winked at him, and Harry nearly melted in his seat, and it for sure wasn’t from the hot cocoa because he wanted to reply with ‘More like your soulmate.’ He wanted to know what you were thinking in that beautiful head of yours. 

He wanted to know if you felt the same things he does. Did your heart beat uncontrollably fast every time he looked at you? Did you get sucked into a different dimension every time you looked at him? Did you have the urge to move closer to him, closing the gap between you two? Because Harry felt all those things with the simple act of you sitting next to him, and he really wanted to know if you felt the same way. 

You crossed your arms as the chilly weather rushed through you. “To be honest, I’m quite shocked that we live in the same building. I wasn’t planning on going back to Nonna’s until the end of the month, so I didn’t expect to see you.” 

“So, you were thinking about me?” He raised his brows teasingly.

“And if I was?” You decided to tease back but came out more like flirting. 

Harry paused for a moment, drinking his hot drink as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Then…I would say I was thinking about you too.” You nodded slightly, quickly grabbing your drink as you took a sip from it, hiding away your blush behind the mug. “What’s it like being a teacher? Can’t imagine standing in front of everyone and practically perform, I guess.” 

You breathed out a laugh, thinking the opposite. He had the look of a rockstar, and his name sounded badass. 

“It’s great. I try being their friend rather than a teacher because I feel like if they’re comfortable with me, they’ll retain and understand the material better. I learned that if you’re comfortable with someone, you’ll listen to them, so that’s what I did. And most of them are doing exceptionally well. Some of my colleagues are always surprised with how many students I get during office hours because I encourage using office hours and my email, so I’m quite busy,” you explained humbly. Harry admired your hard work and dedication, and he already knew you were a great professor just by what you told him. 

“So, what made you want to become an anatomy professor?” Harry changed the subject, feeling a bit flustered himself. 

“I was undecided with my major in college until I had to take a few science classes. One of them was anatomy, and I just fell in love with it. I really enjoyed learning it, and just fell in love with the subject,” you explained. 

“The professor part?” 

“My anatomy professor was the best. She made teaching look so fun and enjoyable. Plus, I’ve heard one too many stories about students having teachers who weren’t compassionate or sympathetic, and I didn’t like that at all. So, I wanted to be one of those teachers who made sure students learned and have a professor who was understanding,” you said humbly. 

“That’s very sweet of you. Unfortunately, I’ve had those professors who were pretty tough and not so compassionate.” You pouted. You always hated hearing or reading tweets when students would type out an email and express what they were currently going through to their professor, only for their professor to lack compassion and support to students who were trying to do their best. 

That’s why you wanted to become an educator. You wanted to make learning fun for your students and have them enjoy going to class rather than dreading it and being nervous to walk in. 

“What about you? What made you want to become a physical therapist?” You asked. 

Harry set his mug down onto the coaster. “The same as you. Something about bones and the muscles fascinated me and how they worked. I grew up loving sports, so that helped a bit, but wanting to help people recover properly was a main goal as well.” 

“You’re kind like that; someone who wants to help out others,” you complimented, and Harry blushed. 

“Thank you. It also has to do with the fact that one of my friends in secondary school, Max. He got injured pretty badly. He played football, or soccer, and he tore his ACL, which you probably know already, but it takes about six to twelve months to recover from that—physically and mentally. He loved the sport like no other, and couldn’t wait to get into it. His doctor cleared him when he was four months into therapy. Four. Doctor said he was looking good, so he cleared him earlier than usual.” Harry shook his head in disbelief as he told the story and you sat next to him, listening as your mouth was slightly open. “Like most of us, we listen to doctors more than we listen to our bodies. So, Max started to play again, and as expected, he hurt himself again…” he trailed off. 

You placed your hand on his knee, comforting him. You could tell that Max meant a lot to him, and by the way he was acting at the moment, he cared enough to dedicate his life towards wanting to be better to people who rely on him. 

“And he couldn’t play again. That was when I realized that I wanted to study the body. It was a long journey to get my doctorate, but I eventually got it at twenty-seven, and I’ve been working as a therapist for about a year and a half now; the same amount of time I’ve been here,” he said humbly. 

“That’s great, Harry. You must be so proud of yourself,” you offered him a smile. 

“I am, yeah. You must be too. Guess we both have a knack for changing some perspective, huh?” He softly smiled. 

“Yeah, we do.” 

Throughout the rest of the night, both of you got to know one another. You found out that you had a lot in common with him, such as your interests in the body (given both of your careers), movies and TV shows, books, and food; told each other childhood stories, and talked about your families. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t judge you, especially with what happened a month ago. 

It was nearing midnight as the time seemed to go by quicker than usual. After two more glasses of hot cocoa, Harry let out a yawn as he checked the time on his phone. 

“I should probably get going--let you rest up,” he said politely, grabbing his mug. 

You nodded, agreeing as you didn’t realize how late it was. “Okay. Oh, you could just leave it there; I’ll clean up.” Harry was too tired to debate, so he put the mug down before you walked him to the door. “I had a great time. Thank you for inviting me in and giving me hot chocolate.” 

“Of course. I had a lovely time as well. Maybe…we should do it again sometime?” You suggested. Harry’s eyes gleamed as he slightly smirked; a tint of pink formed on his cheeks. 

“I would love that.” You said a soft ‘okay’ as you smiled. He looked at you for a moment, noticing your eyes sparkling in the dim light of your apartment as you stared up at him in such fondness, making his heart melt in every way possible. Harry cleared his throat as he was so caught up in your stare that almost hypnotized him. “Well, you know where I live, so come visit if you want or maybe I’ll see you on another elevator ride,” he playfully joked, earning a giggle from you. 

“Sleep well, Harry,” you told him as he walked out the door, away from the space that felt most comforting to him. 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” He flashed you another smile, and your knees nearly melted at the sight of his gorgeousness. Your grip on the door handle tightened, holding you up from falling to the ground. 

You waited for him to turn the corner to head to the elevator before you closed your door. Placing your back flat against the door, you covered your face as a rush of giddiness hit you as your face began to warm up. That was the most fun you had in a while, even if it was just as simple as a long conversation. 

You thought about Harry as you cleaned up and got ready for bed. Thinking about how sweet and kind he was. You never had met anymore who was so polite and nice while looking like that. There was no denying that you found Harry attractive--anyone with eyes could see that, but there was something about his inner aura and personality that you found extremely alluring and intriguing. You wanted to uncover and unravel all of his traits. That was when you knew you were collectively fucked. 

As you went to bed, you dreamt of his green eyes and beautiful smile; drifting off to sleep, unaware that your heart was completing the gaps of Harry’s heartbeat. 

Two weeks had passed since your first hangout with Harry, and you two had been hanging out ever since. Throughout those two weeks, you’d seen him at Nonna’s three times. The first time was unexpected, when you pulled into her driveway, you saw Harry helping her walk. Nonna had a sprained ankle from missing a step when she was walking down the stairs, and luckily, Harry was a physical therapist. Seeing the sight made your heart warm. The other two times were planned and you two decided to drive to her home together. It was very domestic of you two, and the level of comfort was something you never experienced with someone you just met. Nonna was happy to see you two getting along so well, she obviously knew something you were yet to figure out. 

It was nice hanging out with him, you thought. He was a great and funny friend that could make you laugh for hours. But he was also someone you trusted that you could talk to about anything. It was  bizarre to think considering you’d only known him for a short amount of time. Harry was just so open-minded, exciting, and new. Plus, you didn’t have many friends that lived close to you, so Harry living upstairs was just a walk in the park. 

You were getting ready to have brunch with Harry and Anne. It was your first time meeting her, and you were a bit nervous if you were being honest. As Harry’s friend, you wanted Anne to like you, and you really hoped Nonna had talked you up a bit. 

A knock was heard on your front door, and you took a deep breath before answering. Harry was standing behind it, wearing a plain white t-shirt, pink corduroy pants, and a black coat. Something that took you by surprise was that he was wearing brown tortoise framed glasses that fit him so well and nearly made you melt. 

“Harry, you look very…nice.” Your breath hitched in your throat causing you to choke up a breath as he was completely breathless. 

The corner of his lips turned up. “Thank you, so do you.” You smiled. Shall we go?” You nodded and followed him out, locking your door. 

The restaurant Anne picked was not too far from your apartment complex—about 20 minutes. The entire drive to the restaurant, you and Harry sang your heart out to ABBA, pointing at each other as you both screamed out ‘You can dance, you can jive!’ 

“Y/N, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Anne greeted you with a hug, and your nerves slightly dropped as she welcomed you with a hug. “Harry’s told me so much about you!” 

Harry gave Anne a knowing look as a way to tell his mum ‘don’t tell her everything,’ and Anne gave him the same look saying ‘I won’t.’ 

“I can’t wait to get to know you. Our table is ready,” Anne said as she pulled away from you. You nodded your head in agreement as you all followed the hostess to your table. 

Talking to Anne was something so refreshing. She was so sweet and kind, and you immediately knew where Harry got his best traits from. She also knew how to crack a few jokes here and there, making you almost spit your mimosa out or choke on your food. 

Harry watched you two interact and his eyes watched with so much fondness. His mum and soulmate getting along was something he was so grateful for because he wouldn’t know what he would do if you two hated each other. The interaction was so natural between you two that he thought you were going to be the best of friends. 

“So, I hope this is not a personal question, but have you found your soulmate, sweetheart!” Anne suddenly asked, and Harry choked on his water, making him cough reluctantly as he struggled to breathe. Anne rose from her chair as you gently slapped his back a few times to help him out. Once he was okay from his cough attack, he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Darling, are you okay?” She gave him a concerning look. 

Harry nodded, his face slightly red from the lack of air. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good, yeah.” 

“You sure?” You asked. Your hand hadn’t left his back, and you could immediately feel the tingly feeling that spread throughout your arm like his touch shocked you throughout. Harry nodded again, reassuring you and Anne. You turned back to Anne, realizing that she had an unanswered question. “Uh, back to your question—no I haven’t found my soulmate.” 

“Really?” Her tone coming out surprising. 

You nodded. “Yeah. I thought I did, turns out he wasn’t the one.” Harry was eyeing you nervously as he sat beside you. He gulped, wanting to know everything. 

“I’m sure you’ll find them soon, sweetheart,” Anne reassured, and you gave her an appreciating smile. “Your Nonna seems quite keen on soulmates,” she pointed out. 

You nodded. “Yeah, she is. She started talking about soulmates since I was young. She found hers when she was sixteen. Her and Papa’s love was so special. Unfortunately, he passed away about five years ago you explained, and Anne frowned slightly. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, love.” 

“It’s okay! Feel like he’s always somewhat around. He owned a beach house that he passed down to me, and I go there every month, but I never change the furniture or take anything down, so it very much feels like he’s still with me,” you smiled as you told them. 

“That’s lovely, sweetheart. I’m sure he is, and I’m sure he’s proud of you.” You softly smiled at Anne’s words, appreciative of them. You felt Harry’s hand on yours that was resting on the table, and you warmed up at his touch. Turning your head towards him, you flashed him a smile and he sent you a subtle and innocent wink, making your stomach turn into knots. Luckily, you were sitting because you would have surely fallen if you were standing. 

“Where’s your beach house located, by the way?” Harry asked. 

“Monterey.” You answered and you noticed Harry’s eyes widen, glancing towards Anne. “What?” 

“I actually have a house there.” Now, that was new news. 

“Really?” He nodded. 

“Yeah, it’s in Pebble Beach. Where’s yours?” 

“New Monterey.” Pebble Beach was about a fifteen-minute drive from where your beach house was at, on opposite ends of the coast. 

Something was interesting about the fact that Harry was on the other side of your beach house. You’d been to Pebble Beach many times, sometimes walking the hour walk there to get away. If you hadn’t met Harry at Nonna’s, would you have met him at the beach house? 

You shook off the thought, realizing that Anne had changed the subject, so you listened. 

Brunch went by, and you were parting ways with Anne. You promised you would visit her when you visited Nonna, to which she beamed and hugged you tightly. Harry and Anne hugged, and they said ‘I love you’ to each other. Your heart warmed at the mother and son duo, thinking they had the best dynamic. 

You and Harry drove back to the apartment complex in comfortable silence, all the way up to his apartment. You two would take turns sharing your apartments because they both made a great hang out spot. His place was your favorite, though. The first time you stepped in it, you felt an immediate calmness to the disarray of what your reality felt like. It was like you never wanted to leave his apartment, simply wanting to cuddle into his couch with a soft blanket over you. You could possibly stay there forever, you thought. 

Harry made you both a cup of hot chocolate as it was starting to become thing for you both. It was nice; having a thing with you. It made him feel involved and important in your life. 

“Do you want to have an honesty hour?” You asked once he set your mug onto the coaster before he took a seat right beside you. 

He raised his brows. “Were you not being honest with me before?” He teased, and you nudged his shoulder. 

“I’m serious,” you giggled, and it was music to his ears. 

“I am too, but yes we could always have an honest hour. Tell me something.” He curled his lips in, and you couldn’t help but look at his mouth before you quickly glanced back up to his eyes. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“Whatever you want to tell me. I’d be happy to listen,” he reassured. You decided you wanted to tell him what happened a month ago with the whole Eric situation. It was something you could open up to him about since he wasn’t at the wedding, so you knew he wouldn’t judge you.

You smiled softly. “It’s funny how we live in a world full of soulmates, huh?” You started. Harry’s breath hitched into his throat. He started to feel anxious right as you mentioned soulmates that led him to be speechless; he nodded instead. “Well, my Nonna has been telling me everything about soulmates ever since I was born. She constantly went on and on about it--always asking me if I’ve found mine ever since I turned thirteen. I was excited, y’know? She hyped it up so much that I couldn’t wait until I was older to find my soulmate.” Harry gulped, not saying anything. He felt a ‘but’ coming in, so he waited until you were finished. “I went through my teenage years with my friends talking about their soulmates that had found them when they were fifteen or sixteen. I was the only one alone. I don’t know why, but the universe must hate me.” 

“The universe does not hate you,” he disagreed, shaking his head at the hateful words as he slightly frowned. 

“No, it does. When I went to college, I stopped believing in the soulmate shit. I dated whoever I wanted without that pressure. But there was this one person that almost made me believe in soulmates…” you trailed off, and Harry took a deep breath. Maybe she does feel all those things for me? He thought. “His name’s Eric. I met him my last year of college…and we’re engaged--or were engaged.” Harry’s eyes widened as they slightly watered. His heart pounded through his chest as if he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“Y-You were engaged?” He stuttered, holding back his tears. 

“Yeah. I said the universe hated me because I ran out and left him at the altar. When he was saying his vows, I thought of everything Nonna had told me. The heartbeat, the stare, the pull, everything. I didn’t feel that with him, and it was shit timing as well, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t feel the same way for me too,” you explained before taking another sip. 

“So, do you believe in it now?” He slipped in the question. 

“I mean…possibly. I know there’s someone out there for me--maybe. But I really pushed back the idea of my soulmate ever since I felt left out when I was a teenager, so I’m not entirely sure what the exact feeling you feel when you see your soulmate because I just pushed it out of my head and forgot about it.” Harry nodded understandingly. 

It made much more sense to him, and you answered all of his questions. He knew that you weren’t feeling all of those things with him. It definitely hurt him, but he’d hoped that those feelings would come around soon because he’d sat right in front of you, waiting for the right moment to tell you that he was yours. 

“Have you seen him since?” He carried on the conversation, wanting to know all the details and information that he could get. 

“Since the wedding?” Harry nodded, and you shook his head. “No, I haven’t. It’s been about a month since I saw him last. I’ve just been texting him to see if he’s doing okay because I don’t know where his head’s at, but he told me that he would call me when he’s ready to talk, which I have to respect and understand.” 

“A month?” 

Your brows raised slightly. “Hmm, yeah, a month.” Harry's heart began to beat faster, and he clasped his hands together to prevent them from shaking. “I feel bad, y’know? I feel like I’m now painted as this horrible person, but I know I am-” 

“Hey, no, you’re not,” Harry disagreed, shaking his head. “You’re pretty amazing.” Your eyes lightened up a bit. “I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks, and you’re possibly the sweetest person I’ve met. You’re funny, smart, and really fuckin’ kind. You made a decision that was going to affect your entire life. That doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person.” You didn’t say anything but nodded your head slightly with a small smile at his words. He didn’t need to hear anything from you to know that you were appreciative of his words. 

“I wanna know everything about you, H.” You changed the subject, not wanting to talk more about your failed relationship. 

His body turned warm at the sudden nickname. “Everything?” He raised his brows as he took a sip of his drink. He was a bit wary about your sudden want, but he knew that he could trust you. 

You nodded. “Tell me all your secrets,” you whispered. Your words came out seductive, which you didn’t mean to, but by the way he was looking at you, it seemed like your words had some effect on him. 

He curled his lips into his mouth as you pierced your eyes into his as his heart began to beat harder. He smirked a little, chuckling to himself at his reaction. 

“You're in for it, love. Have a lot to cover.” 

A blush formed onto your cheeks. “The floor’s yours.” He took a deep breath before he proceeding to tell you something very important to him. and he hoped he wouldn’t overwhelm you with this information. 

“When I moved here, a year and a half ago, I was diagnosed with Bradycardia Arrhythmia—my heart would beat slowly as you know. They put a pacemaker in after my second collapse. It was so sudden, and I have no idea where it came from, maybe smoking for an entire year when I was in uni, I’m not sure. But I moved here in August, so around that time, I collapsed. Mum rushed me to the hospital and they did a bunch of tests and diagnosed me, and now I have a pacemaker,” he explained calmly. 

The feeling in your chest was something you’ve never felt before. The heart tightened as he spoke every word, causing the pain to increase as your heart sank. Your eyes watered, not wanting them to fall because he didn’t need your pity. 

“Harry, a-are you okay now?” You asked, voice small. 

“Yeah, I think so. Uh, on Saturday at around eleven in the morning, two weeks before we met, I collapsed again. This time, I really couldn’t breathe. It genuinely felt like it was my last day on Earth. My lungs were closing in and my heart was slowing down. My mum was with me at my beach house, and I was lucky that she was there because she immediately called 911 and got me to the hospital.” You looked at him with fear in your eyes as you listened to the gut wrenching story. “I was gone for fifteen minutes, Y/N. Fifteen. It was some sort of miracle…” 

Then it suddenly hit you. 

It all made sense. 

Your heart suddenly opened up fully and the traces of doubt were left behind. Your mind started to piece together the reasons why you haven’t met your soulmate, and it was all right in front of you. The stories and journeys Harry had gone through had all added up. 

The beating organ in your chest had pounded so hard that you felt the beat through your ears, making it impossibly hard to hear, but your heart was fluttering uncontrollably that you couldn’t help but smile and blush. You could see it now—his stare. His eyes captivated yours as he looked so deeply into your eyes that you could stay lost in them forever and never worry about a thing. The magnetic pull and attraction towards him felt like you couldn’t hold back; that you wanted to continue being close to him as you inched closer to him. 

Your mind was coming up with different theories on why your soulmate was taking so long, but they all concluded to him. To Harry. 

It all made sense. 

The reason why it took so long for your soulmate to show was because Harry hadn’t moved here until a year and a half ago. He was still back in England getting his doctorate, and the separation between you two made it impossible to meet. Somehow your mind made up the conclusion that the only reason why you two met after Harry living here, in the same building, for a year and a half was because you were still with Eric; your time was spent on someone who wasn’t your soulmate. 

“Harry…” you whispered. 

His brows raised. “I’m okay now! Really, I am. I don’t think I’ll have any more collapses…” he said knowingly. His tone was like he knew something you didn’t, like he knew you were his soulmate. 

“Harry…” you repeated. 

“Yeah?” You reached forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your actions took him by surprise, but he immediately hugged you back, hurrying his face into your shoulder. 

You had instantly felt the warmth that he provided, not wanting to pull back. You took deep breaths, and you could physically feel Harry’s heart beating in sync with yours as you two sat in front of each other. 

“Why didn’t…you tell me?” You breathed out, eyes glossy as you pulled away from the hug. 

Harry noticed your change of emotion and he looked at you with a concerned face. He gently placed his hands on the sides of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as your tears spilled out. 

“Tell you what?” He asked, still clueless. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were my soulmate?” You questioned. 

Harry’s breath was caught in his throat. He didn’t know if you were angry or disappointed with him, but you didn’t show any sign of anger, so he slightly relaxed. Your face was filled with confusion, and he wanted to take that away quickly. 

“You know?” 

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, tears threatening to spill out. 

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I felt it immediately when I first met you, and I didn’t think you did yet. I should’ve told you…” he grabbed both of your hands and brought them up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand sweetly. 

Harry’s eyes watered. He didn’t know if you were happy that he was your soulmate because you haven’t said anything, so he anxiously kept kissing your hand. 

You inched forward, placing your forehead against his as both of your hands were in between you two. Your lips met with his hand before you pulled away. 

“I felt it. I felt it all when you told me your story and about your condition. It was like your heart opened up for me and my heart finally had the realization that you were right in front of me—this whole time.” You sniffled. Harry’s tears streamed down his face as the overwhelming feeling was present in his chest, making his heart pound through his chest. Your hearts were in sync with one another, so you placed your hand flat on his chest, feeling the beating organ that was giving you so much life. 

“I can’t believe this is happening…” he said in disbelief. 

“Harry…I should tell you that, uh, the first time you collapsed—when you were diagnosed with your condition, that was when Eric proposed to me. Your second collapse, a month ago, that was my wedding day. The time you collapsed was when I was at the altar. There were just so many thoughts running around in my head that I physically and mentally couldn’t be in front of my ex because I just knew he wanted the one for me,” you explained. 

Harry’s mind immediately clicked. “Then when you left the altar was when I was brought back to life…” he pieced together like a puzzle. His missing puzzle piece was you. Your eyes softened, smiling at him because at least you did some good in the last month. “You saved me.” 

“I can’t help but think that I was the one that caused all of this,” you poured, and he shook his head. 

“No, no. You didn’t. If you’re going to blame yourself for that, then I’m going to blame myself for getting together with other people back in England, causing you to not believe that you have a soulmate,” he challenged. You shook your head in disagreement. “Then we have nothing to blame ourselves for, okay? We’re here now.” 

You placed your forehead against his as you whispered,” Yeah, we are.” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to take in the events. You couldn’t believe that after knowing Harry for more than two weeks, he was your soulmate this entire time. 

Pulling away a bit, you looked at him as your eyes glimmered. The tips of your noses touched in the most delicate way as you looked at each other. The room was filled with so much clarity, light, and…love. You smiled softly as the corners of Harry’s lips turned up into a grin, dimples poking out. 

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked, eyes looking down at your lips and back to your eyes. 

You nodded, your heart beating ten times faster. He moved your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear before gently placing his hands on your cheeks as he moved forward to capture his lips with yours. His touch and lips ignited you as the sparks ran through your body, making you pull him closer. His lips were something you’d never felt before. They were soft, gentle, and loving as he moved in sync with you, meeting your tongue with his in such a passionate and deep way. 

You felt completely overwhelmed with happiness as you smiled into the kiss, tears rushing down your face as you knew the wait was finally over. He was here. 

Harry moved you on your back as he hovered over you, lips never disconnecting as it was something he wanted to do forever. You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly grabbing onto his curls as you earned a moan against your mouth from him. Involuntarily bucking your hips against him, you felt him grow between your legs in his flared pants as he grinded against your leg. 

He pulled away from the kiss only to kiss your jaw and neck, nibbling and sucking your skin, leaving a decent hickey on your skin. Your hands raked his clothed back, and Harry felt the way your nails dragged against his shirt, making his excitement increase because he couldn’t wait to actually feel it against his skin, only if you’d let him. 

“C-Can I, uh,” he stumbled with his words. 

“Harry, do you think we could wait?” You asked, indicating sex. His eyes widened, immediately getting off of you. 

“Oh, yeah! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, don’t be sorry. I just want to wait to do that with you,” you caressed his cheek. 

“Okay, that’s fair.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips to see if he wasn’t dreaming. 

The rest of the night was like this—you laid in his arms, stealing kisses from one another. He held you tightly, afraid that you would leave once he loosened his grip, but you were right where you needed to be. 

A week went by, and you were happier than ever. You were in complete bliss with Harry, and you never wanted that feeling to stop. It seemed like Nonna was happier than you because she’d been waiting for this moment for so long. She wanted to see you happy, even Harry, you being happy together just made her heart warm. 

You were just getting back home from doing some shopping when your phone rang. Assuming that it was your soulmate, you smiled as you searched for your phone through your purse. But what you didn’t expect was to see the contact that you have been waiting a month for. 

“Eric? Hi,” you said surprisingly. 

“Hey. Uh,” he chuckled. “This is a bit weird, isn’t it? I just wanted to call to see if you were free to talk.” 

Your eyes widened. “Yeah! I just got home. Do you want to swing by right now if you’re available?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great. The same apartment, right?” 

“The same one. I’ll see you soon,” you confirmed before you bid each other goodbye. 

You waited for Eric for about thirty minutes, distracting yourself by cleaning and tidying up your place as you constantly overthought what you were going to say to him. This was going to be the first real conversation you were going to have with him in a month, not to mention the first time you’re seeing him after you ran away and left him at the altar. 

There was a hard knock on your door, startling you. You took a deep breath before you answered it, revealing your ex-fiancé. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled, giving you a hug. He seemed happier and in a better mood than you’d expected. 

“Hi, how are you?” You invited him into your home. It still looked the same the last time he came over, which had been quite a while. 

“I’m doing good, you?”

“Good as well. Coffee?” You offered. 

“Please.” 

You made him a cup of coffee, remembering the way he liked it because of the amount of times you’d made it for him in the morning. Setting it on the coaster, you sat on the other end of the couch, facing him. There was a bit of silence between you two—both not knowing where to start the conversation, but you figured you needed to get everything out of your system, so you went first. 

“Eric, I’m really sorry for how I left things. I shouldn’t have done it the way I did, and I should’ve talked to you first before we even proceeded to the wedding, but all of a sudden, it clicked. When you were reading your vows, I was just thinking of all the things Nonna said to me, and I realized…you weren’t the one. You weren’t my soulmate,” you explained. Your shoulders relaxed, finally feeling like this was the first step before you got to live your life with Harry. 

“Hey,” he reached over to grab your hand. Now, you could say that you really don’t feel the same love as before. His touch wasn’t the same as Harry’s. Eric didn't give you the spark that crawled up your skin, only Harry did. “It’s totally okay. I mean that. I understand why you did that, and I’m glad you did because I knew you weren’t the one for me either, and it took me a while to realize that until…” he trailed. 

“Until?” You encouraged him to continue, but it clicked so quickly for you. “You met someone?” He smiled, nodded his head. “Holy shit! What?!” You exclaimed surprisingly. You were the furthest from mad, and you were actually really happy for him. 

“I did, yeah. She’s great, honestly. Her name is Mandy and I met her the night of our wedding,” he chuckled. “I went to a bar and met her there. And then I felt it. It’s the most exciting and exhilarating feeling in the world,” he excitedly said. 

“Isn’t it?” You raised your brows, and Eric furrowed his brows until he got what you meant. 

“Hold on…you…wait…you met yours didn’t you?” He speculated, and you laughed. 

“Yeah, I did. Two weeks after our wedding. Actually met him at Nonna’s. Turns out, they’ve known each other for a year and a half. Can you believe that?” 

“Actually, I can. Nonna Tallie knows everything. I’m pretty sure she knew that I wasn’t your soulmate too,” he said, laughing. You laughed along, deciding not to tell him that she actually did know. 

The rest of the night went on like this. You two caught up, and shared stories and memories that made you laugh when you looked back while pouring yourselves glasses on glasses of wine. You realized that you and Eric were much better as friends, and you’re glad that it didn’t end in a horrendous way because you really cherished and appreciated him. 

The night was getting late, and you two were giggling your tipsy hearts out as your eyes were trying theirs best to stay open. You realized you couldn’t fight over your exhausted and drunk self, so you decided to call it a night. 

“Uh, you could take the couch since it’s late and you can’t drive,” you offered. 

“Really? Thank you,” he smiled. You grabbed him an extra blanket and pillow, and bid him goodnight because you went to the restroom to do your skincare because you never forget to do your night routine no matter how drunk you are. 

You crashed onto your bed, closing your eyes as you let sleep and your dreams take over you, dreaming about the loveliest man just above you and how you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

When you wanted to see Harry again, you didn’t expect it to be the way you did. 

After a long eight hours of dreaming of him, you heard a loud knock on the door, causing you to jolt awake. Still groggy as you were sitting up in bed, you heard footsteps walking towards the door, and you had nearly forgotten Eric was still in your apartment and that he was going to answer the door. 

What you didn’t expect was to hear the familiar raspy and deep voice that said ‘Who the fuck are you?’ making you quickly get out of bed and heading towards the door. Eric was shirtless, clearly still sleepy, and Harry was standing on your doorstep with a bag of food in his hands. 

The picture looked bad and wrong. With you and Eric just getting out of separate beds, respectfully, and Eric not wearing a shirt, it really wasn’t what it looked like. 

“Harry-”

“A-Are you cheating on me?” Harry asked, not knowing if those were the right words. Sure, you were his soulmate, but he hadn’t made things official yet. 

“Hey, man-”

“I’m clearly not talking to you,” he interrupted Eric, giving him a stern look. 

You gently pulled his face down so he could look at you. “Listen to me, please?” He didn’t say anything, so you continued. “This is Eric, my ex. He came here to talk last night and we had a few glasses of wine and I let him crash on the couch, that’s all.” 

Harry nodded, but his face clearly said that he wasn’t convinced. You looked at him with a sad expression, feeling useless on what you could do to get him to believe you. 

“You know…” he started. His face looked disappointed, and you wished he flashed you his smile. “I found it odd that you didn’t know I was your soulmate when I first met you, and it hurt me, to be honest. It broke my heart. I waited patiently for you for my entire life, and I waited even more when I met you and you didn’t know that it was me. I get that if you’re still in love with him, I get it. You were together for years, almost forever. But this…” he gestured towards you two. “It looks bad and it hurts me more than ever.” 

With that, he walked away. Rushing towards the staircase, you ran after him, calling for him, but he ignored you. His long strides beat yours as he took two steps at a time, and you barely kept up with him, so you just let him be for now. You sat on the cemented stairs, placing your face in your hands as you cried. Your sobs echoed throughout the empty staircase, and your heart felt like it was ripping in half—Harry’s heart breaking just added to your pain as well. 

And just when you had gotten your soulmate, you felt like you lost him. 

A week had passed since you last saw Harry, and it was one of the longest, frustrating, and painful weeks you ever had to live through. 

The face Harry had given you was something you never wanted to see. The displeasurable look made your heart drop every time you thought about it, closing your eyes, it was the only thing you could see. 

He wasn’t talking to you, no matter how many times you knocked on his door and said sorry to him through the door that most likely came out muffled from the other side. Throughout the week, you tried your hardest not to get angry for being ignored as you refrained from telling him how unreasonable he was being. But you looked at things from his perspective, and you understood why he felt that certain anxiety of seeing Eric in your apartment…shirtless, might you add. 

It took you a while to figure out how that Harry was your soulmate, and you couldn’t imagine the doubt and discouraging feeling he had when you didn’t figure it out right away. You couldn’t imagine what he felt like when he first met you and felt everything indescribable. 

For what seemed like the millionth time this week, you walked into Nonna’s house, immediately feeling the warmth and comfort you felt every single time. But it wasn’t the kind of warmth you longed for from a certain someone. 

“Hey, Nonna,” you greeted once you entered, finding her on the couch, looking through her photo albums. 

“Hi, Chip. Come in and sit with me,” she patted the space next to her, and you gladly walked over, taking a seat, looking at the pictures of her and your grandfather when they were younger. 

“My soulmate. Miss you so much,” she said to the picture of the two of them smiling at the camera, touching Papa’s face. 

Nonna flipped through the album, telling you stories about every single picture. You loved hearing memories about your grandparents as they brought so much joy to you. Nonna’s stories were the last bit of hope you had in soulmates, and you made sure to never let it go. 

You saw Nonna take out a picture out of the slip, pointing at it as she told you another story. “This was me and your Papa when we went to the beach. We were with some friends, and he told me he was going to marry me. This wasn’t where he proposed, but this was when I heard it for the first time. I was surprised, but so in love.” She smiled at the photo of her and her soulmate. Nonna handed you the picture so you could get a better look. 

In the picture, they were both sitting in the sand and she was smiling at the camera while Papa was holding her waist, looking at her with so much love. They were such a beautiful couple and quite the lookers. 

As you studied the photograph, you noticed a couple in the back who equally looked in love as Nonna and Papa were. But to what shocked you was that the couple in the back looked just like you and Harry. You softly gasped, bringing the picture closer to your eyes, making sure you weren’t just imagining things, but sure enough, the couple looked exactly like the two of you. 

“Nonna, look at this. This couple right here,” you pointed at the picture. 

She squinted before she gasped herself. “Well, that looks quite like you and my delivery boy.” 

“W-Why is that exactly us?” You stuttered, a bit spooked out.

Nonna grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. “Soulmates are destined for your future. What they didn’t tell you, or what I didn’t tell you was that, before you’re born or even conceived, the universe already plans for your soulmate because they’re quick like that. They have this stronghold that they can’t help but put together two people who are made for each other, even if they’re not even on this earth yet. In your case, the universe put you and Harry together in your past lives, way before you both were born. You and Harry were made for each other. Don’t let him go, ever.” 

Without even realizing, you felt tears fall from your eyes as she explained. Your heart felt like it was exploding with so much love. 

You needed him. You needed the air he provided. The light in your darkest days. The love that fulfilled your heart. 

You handed Nonna the picture back, but she waved you off. “Keep it. Go get him, yeah?” 

Kissing her cheek in gratefulness, you sniffled as you headed to your home. 

You found yourself exactly where you needed to be, knocking on the dark green door with the number 525 in gold. 

“Harry, please open the door,” you called out from outside. A frown settled upon your face as you continued to knock. The thought of Harry being on the other side of the door and ignoring you, made your heart ache. 

“Can't do that when I’m out here.” You turned your head to see Harry fiddling with his keys with a bag of groceries in his other hand. 

You smiled softly, rushing towards him before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him. “Missed you so much.” Your heart warmed when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, and you smiled into his shoulder. “Can we talk? Please?” You asked once you pulled away, looking at him with pleading eyes. And who was he to say no to that?

“Let’s go inside.” He walked past you, opening the door to let you in. You missed the homey feeling, and one week was too long without stepping foot into his place. He offered you a drink, but you declined, and he joined you on his sofa. 

There was an unfamiliar silence where you didn’t know if you should speak or let the silence take over you until the tension finally breaks. Harry wasn’t speaking either as he was waiting for you to speak since you were the one who almost knocked down his door with your fist with the constant knocking. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. This week has been brutal and I never want to go without you ever again. I looked at things from your perspective, and yeah, I would be frustrated and disappointed and hurt at me too. I couldn’t imagine what you were going through when you finally found me and I didn’t even know you were right in front of me. And I just want to say I’m sorry. Eric and I are over, and I don’t love him anymore. He’s already found his soulmate, and I have you…at least I think I still have you…” you said all in one breath, and your mind had gone into a spiral because you really didn’t know if you screwed things up. 

Harry breathed out a chuckle, smiling to himself as he looked down at his lap. You knew you hadn’t convinced him enough just by the way he’s silent, probably debating with himself in his head if he should believe you. So, you took out the picture Nonna had shown you from your purse, hesitantly giving it to him. 

He grabbed the picture and looked at him before he asked, “Who’s this?” 

“That’s my Nonna and Papa. Think they were, like, twenty here. But that’s besides the point…look at the couple in the back.” Harry squinted, observing the couple behind Nonna and Papa. The couple were facing the ocean; the woman was sitting in front of the man as his arms were warmed around her body. They were looking at one another, smiling brightly when the world was right in front of them. But their worlds were right in their arms. 

You noticed Harry’s eyes widen, looking at the couple again just as you did to make sure he’s not just hallucinating. He turned back to you, speechless, and you nodded. 

“That’s us in our past life. Nonna told me that the universe puts couples together even if they’re not born yet. Our souls were born to the stars and the moon. We were destined to be together decades ago, and we are now,” you hesitantly grabbed his hand, and you’re grateful that he didn’t pull away. His touch was on fire that the spark ignited into something so relieving. You looked at him so intently, and you couldn’t pull away. No matter how disappointed he was in you, there was still that sparkle when he looked at you. “Harry, I’m sorry if I made you think that I wasn’t in love with you. There is nothing more in the world than you, and you’re all I want. We’re made for each other, baby. I’ve been in love with you, I’ll be in love with you. Forever.” 

Silent tears streamed down Harry’s face as he curled his lips in. His heart was beating at a normal pace, only because it was now filled with the love and warmth that he’s asked for, and it all came from you. You filled that hole in his heart that’s been waiting to be sealed, and now you vowed to take care of it, and love and cherish it. 

Harry shifted closer to you and you smiled through your tears. He delicately touched your cheek like you were fragile glass, and you soaked in his touch that made your cheeks warm. You turned your head to kiss his palm as he cradled your face. He brought his face closer to yours and kissed the tip of your nose before resting his forehead against yours. You smiled to yourself; you thought the gesture was sweet and you missed his touch and lips so much that it had made your heart physically ache. 

“I’m gonna make you happy, baby, I promise.” 

He nodded as his heart forgave you. “And I’ll do the same. Forever.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he spoke so softly, and his voice was deeper and raspier. “I was overreacting the last time--I’m sorry. I just closed myself off and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. Your feelings are valid. Let’s talk about it next time, okay?” You softly suggested, and he offered you a small smile of acceptance. 

“I’m gonna love you forever,” he said.

“You better,” you teased, smirking slightly as he chuckled. 

The tip of your noses touches as you closed your eyes before Harry leaned in and connected your lips together. The lips that were molding with yours had taken you back years, and it was like you had been kissing his lips for the entirety of your life, along with your beating heart that was beating for him all along. 

pls let me know your thoughts and feelings on this! thank you for reading <3

[imalwaystiredzzz]

C5: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader

#genshin x reader

Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships

< Sisyphus happy chapters >

Once, from a time long before records and memories were written on ink and paper, Morax walked upon vast lands rich in history, watered by tears of tragedy and love lost. He turns to an old woman who stood before her destroyed village, eyes downcast and hollow on bodies drowned by the war of an unrelenting sea and the mountain that does not bow. 

Morax did not understand, maybe once when he had held a goddess’ body to his own, but to him that was one thing and this is another. This is love of a mortal that does not even know who the child that cried next door nor the man that walked past their door, this is to love a complete stranger and the love that Guizhong once had when she was still by his side.

“What must I do to learn the love of mortals?” He asks, voice devoid of emotion; genuine curiosity and the hope to understand beneath.  

The old woman smiled, warm and full of wisdom as if her short years were thousands compared to the god. “To love mortals, one must sacrifice eternity and learn of the passing time. Of death and partings. The gods have forgotten that they may live long but even you have an end, it is the same thing that pains us yet we find delight in.”

He didn’t understand then, those words ring true and wise as Cloud Retainer’s advice to his ears on leading the people that he had now to care for. Even so, he still finds himself wondering, “What would Guizhong have done?”

In his heart, he knows that she would’ve understood and took a moment to explain; unlike the way time leaves nothing but confusion in its wake, only pondering and no straight answers?

Even as hundreds of years pass, when all that remains of that old woman is nothing but ashes on the soil and the land had been turned to marsh, the people traveling and settling in a mountain, and the war marching on to its bloody conclusion; Morax found that answer to be much like the dumbbell that he may never come to solve. 

But once more, reminiscent of his unexamined love with the goddess had bloomed too late, fate had played him right into its hands. 

Because the answer had come in the form of you- still a child, a bud in the nursery of glaze lilies under the morning sun. You and your small hands that gripped the end of his robes, with teary eyes that looked at the dying people and held these strangers hand in their last breath with as much intensity for a small comfort to let them know they did not die alone.

“Will the war end soon?” Your small voice asked him, even Mountain Shaper had not the stomach to look at a child’s plea for peace and spout lies.

“I am trying to end it, as fast as I can.” 

“Then this is for you.” You reached into your pocket and gave him a dried glazed lily contained in glass, “thank you for trying though we cannot give much back.” You bow, as courtesy knowing that you had just talked to the very god that protected the lands you step on and ran back to the shack that housed the sick and injured, your parents much too busy to notice you had snuck out. 

Blissfully unaware that the god of geo, gripping the gift in between his hands, amber eyes following your form and telling himself that humans have much to learn and yet they surprise him nonetheless, just like as his love used to tell him.

But even answers are confusing, much like a child who asks why is 1+1=2 and the process of it, he didn’t understand till he saw you once more. Not yet a lady but not quite the child that you used to be. Now you are the girl who provides healing, growing up to be a herbalist like your mother and no longer simply holding a basket of them for your father. Carefully, with your mortal hands you comfort the injured beyond salvation as the calamities of gods that hold much power rages on. 

Surrounded by dying men of the war, miasma, curses and death lurking in the air, in his eyes you remained untouched. Unblemished, as if the air in your little bubble had been purified by innocence and unconditional love for the crowd of strangers, neither pitying them for death nor numb to their tragedy. Then for a second he thought he saw her - the glaze lilies and the goddess that he loved so much and he begins to wonder if she’s come back to him through you.

“I should thank you for treating the wounded.” He tells the man before him, the bags of herbs laying behind his form and a sigil in hand, “use this in times of need, when the people are crying and I am away, surely the adeptis are quick to answer and would not turn you away.” 

“My lord, Rex Lapis, there is no need to thank us. Knowing that you protect the people is enough, we are just a family of healers who help the ones in need.” Your father was a grateful man, and he can see where you get your eyes, especially your kind heart who reaches out to those in need, not because he seeks power or his blessings.

“Even so, Liyue will remember your kindness but none more so than I, Rex Lapis.” 

He does not know if you remember him nor what you did, only that when he dons a mortal face to take a walk in the calms before the storm, he finds himself wandering to your garden, mostly on cold nights where you would just sing to the lilies and watch them, with unfading enchantment, bloom. 

In a distant memory of an old lover, he hears the same voice but now there stood you. Now a lady, barely a woman with your innocence and mischief.

And he knows that this is wrong, mortals are fleeting as the dust, that he can never grasp with his two hands. Wherever his heart is on anything, other than Liyue, it only ends in tragedy. And oh, how ironic of it all that if you really were his goddess that had found her way back to him, why this form? Why a mortal who is a flower that will wither compared to a mountain that does not crumble?

“It’s a beautiful song, pardon me for interrupting but may I know where you have learned it?”

“Only if you tell me what the god of earth is doing in a place like this, barely even concealed?” Playful, you smile at him playfully as if you knew all the time that he had spent staring from afar and he was not an immortal that could smite the very life out of those pretty eyes.

“The breeze carried your voice and I wondered where you had learned to entice it to your will.” He couldn’t really put a finger when it began, when your singing had lured him like a siren to the depth of the sea.

“You befriend the wind, unlike the earth, you do not command rather ask of it like a companion,” was your simple answer and he smiles like he has found something long lost. You drown him in your presence, but he is not breathless; rather he sighs filled with curiosity like a child who has more to learn from the world that he had been in for thousands of years. 

You who had rekindled a reason for his actions, much like Guizhong. This love does not ruffle his heart out of his rib cage, the dust settles and it is as calm as you talking about herbs in this small patch of garden late at night and as calm as the things settle falling into place in his beloved city by the gentle waves of the sea.

“What happened to them after?” You ask your husband, the snow falls outside and you are oh so exhausted to the bone as if the cold had taken all your warmth. He smiles and brushes your cheeks that lost their flush and your skin cold as a corpse, his arms glows gold in the intricate cracks, and you know that this is a bedtime story - though not quite for the night but for the long winter.  

The memory scratches at the back of your mind to be remembered, but a part of you warns that you wouldn’t like how it ends. 

“According to the books, the lord of geo took his love to the heavens.” He finishes with a chuckle of the irony in it all, a kiss to your temple as your eyes drop, heavy and slumber dragging you to its clutches.

Then finally, Zhongli smiles to bid you goodnight.

He watches you sleep soundly. Sleep if humans can even call it that with the lack of breathing, as still as a corpse that had died peacefully in bed while he is left to wonder of a future that had things ended the way his winter story did.

War ensures losts. Victories demand sacrifices. And the price to pay was always his love.

Zhongli would like to believe that had you died of a natural cause: sickness, accident or of old age where he would have held your aging body, he could’ve had the strength to let you pass on.

Rex Lapis would have had your funeral handled by the esteemed WangSheng, and took your passing as another promise to meet on the other side.

But Morax knows, he could never really.

Never let you go, even after thousands of years and all that you know had returned to the soil. Even when the truths of history had been forgotten by the people and you are nothing but a distant whisper to this land, a footnote to his folklore.

Not even now, when every winter is a reminder of the way he held your cold body against his chest, “I worry about you.” You told him with a supposed to be parting smile, how pitiful must he be for a dying mortal that had not even lived half their life to worry about him. 

“Why are you saying goodbye, my love? You aren’t supposed to say goodbye, not yet. It’s much too early,” He tells you with a broken laugh, the war is over like you had asked of him the first time. He is an archcon, the land is his to rule and care, and you are supposed to live many many peaceful years with him, but here you are the embers of war digs its claws in your frail body and had robbed you of life.

 Why does the war take and take and take and he who fights only lose things that he keeps to heart? 

He doesn’t relent, even if it means breaking the laws of nature itself.

Even when you wake in spring, and you look at him with those empty eyes and ask who he is. At Least you’re here, still there somewhere and it might take thousands of years and more, when the mountain has crumbled against time, one day he believes that you will wake again with love in your lips and warmth in your hands.

[themadlostgirl]

Abandoned (11)

*That took longer than expected. Had to rewrite the beginning like five times cause I hated how it kept turning out. Bleh! But we got it now! Should have the next and final chapter of this mini-fic out soon! Love ya and enjoy!*

~~~

As the years passed I found myself growing even more attached to Neverland. I had called it home for years already but after Peter told me he loved me it felt more permanent. I guess a part of me was always sort of waiting for my father to show up one day and take me away. Worried that he would return and ruin the peace and happiness I had found on Neverland.

He was the last person I had ever loved before he abandoned me. As much as I hated him there would be nights when I’d sit in my hut and his face would come to mind. The sound of his voice singing a lullaby to me that I only half remember. I would sit there simmering in my hatred and feelings of betrayal but down deep in my soul there was a twinge of sadness. Memories that feel more like dreams reminding me that for as angry as I was at him there was a time that I loved him. He was my family. My papa…

But that’s all gone. He left me. Traded me. I have a new family now. I know real love. Unconditional love.

Peter loved me exactly as I was. He never asked me change. He never forced me to do things I didn’t want to do. We had fun together. We told each other everything. He knew my deepest darkest secrets and in turn I was entrusted with his. He held me close and kissed me softly. HIs arms were the safest place I had ever known.

He was patient with me and despite how badly he may have wanted to escalate our intimate relationship he never pressured me. If anything he may have been too cautious but given what he knew of my history I didn’t blame him. I’d rather he be courteous than to just assume he’s okay to take what he wants from me. So when the day came that I knew I was ready I asked him to make love to me. He had been so nervous and I couldn’t help but tease him a bit despite my own nerves. It felt nothing like the first time I had sex. It was so much softer, slower, and all of my partner’s attention was solely on me. It felt like love.

After that first time things got a little intense. We may have made it our mission to christen every inch of the island. Soft and sweet love making in the meadows to hard and rough in caves, there was nothing more we cared about. Peter didn’t even return to camp for an entire week once because we were too wrapped up in one another. His body became as familiar to me as my own.

That isn’t to say that we didn’t drive each other mad either. There were days where I wanted to throw him off a cliff and he wished that I had never set foot in Neverland. For as stubborn as the both of us could be the fights never drove us apart for long. We would come back together and everything would be right with the world until we got annoyed and started another fight.

Through all of it I worried though. From what Peter told me all that time ago, he’s dying. He creeps closer and closer to death and there’s nothing I can do to help him. I ask for details, I ask if there is anyway I can help, and Peter tells me it is not for me to worry about. He assures me he has it all under control. That sentiment loses some of its reassurance when he comes to me shaking and pale as a ghost. It’s always after he visits Skull Rock and looks at the hourglass ticking away his life.

One of these such nights he found me at my camp and held me close for a long while not saying anything. Not that he had to. I just wish there was something I could do to help. I hate seeing him like this.

“My love?” I whispered. Peter sat between my legs with his head resting on my chest and his arms wrapped around me. “You need to tell me if there is some way I can help you.”

Peter sighed. “I told you, my pearl, there is nothing about my situation that you need to worry yourself over. Now be sweet and keep playing with my hair. That is helping immensely.”

“I feel like I should be doing more though,” I carded my fingers through his hair, “I don’t want to just stand idly by while you…” I couldn’t finish the thought. “I want to help you.”

“You already are.” He gazed up at me with those clear green eyes I loved so much, “I don’t need you to fight or search or anything like that. I want you exactly where you are now. I want to know that you are safe here, waiting for me. That is all I need.”

“But--”

“Hush now,” he kissed my palm, “You worry yourself so easily. Things are already in motion. I will be safe and far from death by the end of the week if things go according to plan.”

“What? Why haven’t you said anything before?”

“Because I fear it may stir up painful memories for you. The Truest Believer will be here soon and I have a plan for when he arrives. You are not a part of it and that is how it is going to remain. Do you understand?”

“But I can help!”

“My love, my precious pearl,” Peter smoothed a finger across my bottom lip, “You already are. I want you right here where I know you are safe. Stay here. That is how you will help me.”

“But I could do so much more.”

“I don’t need you to do anything more.” He kissed me gently, “Now please, can you obey me in this one thing? I need you to trust me on this. You do trust me, don’t you, my love?”

“Of course I trust you.” I sighed, defeated, “But you will let me know if you need me to do more, right?”

“Of course,” He laid his head back down.

The night the Truest Believer arrived I didn’t see Peter at all. He told me he would be gone from my side for the majority of the time the Believer was on Neverland. It wasn’t unexpected but the sting of loneliness crept in still.

After the first night without Peter I became restless. Despite Peter’s warning to remain at my camp I decided to take a short stroll through the jungle. There were adults running about somewhere trying to rescue the boy Peter had. It is such a big island though and I know every inch of it. What were the odds that I would run into one of these adults? Still, I strapped my sword to my hip just in case. Adults or not Neverland was still plenty dangerous, especially at night.

I meandered through the jungle with no real destination in mind. Maybe I would go to Peter’s Thinking Tree. It had to be more fun than sitting all alone in my hut back on the beach.

“My young love said to me, ‘My mother won't mind and my father won't slight you for your lack of kind.’ Then she stepped away from me and this she did say, ‘It will not be long love till our wedding day.’” I sang quietly.

“She stepped away from me and she moved through the fair.” A voice from the deepest recesses of my mind answered with a melody as soft as it had been in my dreams. It was not a sound in my head though. It was much too real.

“And fondly I watched her move here and move there.” The foliage parted and in the moonlight appeared a troupe of adults but I only saw the one at the forefront. “Then she made her way homeward with one star awake. As the swan in the evening moves over the lake.”

He took a knee and gazed up at me, “Hello starfish,”

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out.

My father...my father was standing right in front of me after gods know how many years and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I just stared at him as my mind went through a million emotions at once.

“Hook?” One of his party asked, a blonde woman, “Who are we looking at here?”

“My daughter,” he answered simply, “I told you I had informants in Neverland.”

“You have a kid?” The other adults looked at him in shock. “You never mentioned that you had a daughter before.”

“Yes, well--”

“What are you doing here?” I said, my voice shaky and choked. All eyes swiveled to me once again. I gazed down at my father as all the sorrow and anger I had been harboring for decades started to boil over.

“Darling,” He reached out for me but I jumped back so he couldn’t touch me. He sighed, “Starfish, I know that what happened in the past must have been a shock but I’m here now. I’m back and I desperately need your help. Then all of this can be undone. Things can go back to what they were before.”

How dare he. How dare he come back. How dare he kneel in front of me and ask for my help. Did he not know? Did he not realize what he had done? How could he come back here after decades and pretend like nothing had happened?

He took advantage of my silence to reach for me again. I was still trying to think of what to say or do when he grabbed hold of my hand. “Starfish,” He whispered the nickname like a plea, “I am so happy to see you again. Please, can you help us? We can get you out of here.”

“No...” I pulled my hand from him. Tears sprung to my eyes and there was nothing to do to stop them. “NO!” I screamed, “No! No! No! No! No!”

“Darling, please--”

“You abandoned me!” I wailed, years of pent up anguish spilling out at once, “You left me here! That is not just a shock! That is not something you get to brush aside like it wasn’t a big deal. You traded me away for your freedom and now you have the gall to come back here and ask for my help?”

“It was a lot more complicated than that--”

“No it wasn’t! You had a choice and you chose your freedom over me! Your daughter! You didn’t even try coming back for me!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I endured after I was forced to leave you.”

“Forced? You were not forced. You could have told Peter no when he asked you to trade me. You could have kept me and we could have stayed together. We’d be marooned here but at least we would have been together.” I kicked him in the center of his chest so he went falling backwards. The other adults tensed, weapons aimed but no one made a move to stop me as I towered over him.

“And do not tell me that you endured anything like it was a struggle. I spent months alone on the beaches praying that you would return. I cried myself to sleep and pleaded with the universe to send you back to me. When I was finally given a chance to be reunited with you do you know what I found? I found you in a tavern drinking and having a merry time without me. I wasn’t even a thought in your head!”

“Starfish--”

“I am not your starfish! I am not your daughter! You do not get to call me that after what you did. After what you put me through. You betrayed me! You traded me to our enemy and you didn’t even care!”

“I’m here now though.”

“But not for me.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “You knelt before me but it wasn’t with apologies or words of reassurance that you had come to rescue me. No. You returned and asked for my help like you have any right to it. Do not look for me again. Do not talk to me again. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Starfish, please,” He grabbed my arm, “Let me explain.”

“Let go of me!” I tried to pull my arm free.

“Hook, I think you should--” One of the other adults tried to intercede.

“No!” He pulled me closer, “Please, darling, I need you to listen to me. If you just give me the chance to explain then everything will be alright. We’ll get Henry and we’ll leave. You can leave this place and we can be a family again. I know I hurt you but we can still fix this.”

“You are not my family! I want nothing to do with you!” I kicked at him but he held me tighter.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Let go of me!”

“Starfish--”

“PETER!” I screamed. A hand was quickly clamped over my mouth but it was too late. Ominous clouds started to roll in casting the jungle into darkness. One of the adults conjured a ball of fire in her hands, the only source of light as the others strained to see in the dark. I felt a tingle go up my spine and relaxed.

“Get your hands off her.” Peter’s voice growled from the shadows. Father’s grip on me slackened for just a moment and I took the hesitation to rip myself away from him. I could make out Peter’s eyes glinting almost like a cat’s in the darkness and ran for him. He caught me in his arms and smoothed my hair, “Hush now, precious, it’s alright.”

“Pan,” Father barked, “Give me back my daughter!”

“And my son!” One of the women yelled.

“Neither of them are going anywhere. Especially not my Lost Girl.” Peter grinned. His thumb traced over my cheek wiping the tears that had fallen away, “Did the awful man make you cry, my love?”

I nodded. Peter pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Love?” The other man in the group spoke his eyes wide in disbelief. He turned to father, “Your daughter is dating Peter Pan?”

“No…” Father looked horrified as he took in our body language. "My daughter would never--"

"Well she's not your daughter anymore. She ceased to be yours the moment you sent her to me.” Peter held me closer, “And I swear if you try taking her I will gut every last one of you.”

“Remove whatever spell you placed over her!”

“There is no spell. Did you really think that you could leave her here for decades and that she would still be the loyal pirate you had set adrift in a rowboat? I welcomed her to my island as an equal, I made sure she was provided for and looked after. Then in time she welcomed me as her friend and eventually as her lover.” Peter’s smile grew wide with that sadistic edge I loved. “She makes just the cutest noises.”

“You vile bastard!” Father charged at us with his blade drawn and murder in his eyes. The next moment Peter and I were standing on the beach by my hut.

“Was that last comment so necessary?” I asked.

“You can’t blame me wanting to torture him a little after what he did.” Peter chuckled lightly. “But how are you, my love? I told you to stay here. Why did you go wandering?”

“I was bored and lonely so…” I shrugged. My body was still shaking.

Peter sighed and kissed my forehead. “Hush, my love, I can’t imagine what you must have been thinking seeing him again.”

“I said what I wanted to. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough though. I don’t think I can accurately put into words what he made me feel. He could never understand what I endured because of him.” More tears started to slip from my eyes. Peter brushed them away.

“Come back to camp,” He said, “I want to be able to watch over you.”

I nodded, too emotionally exhausted to fight him on this. We drew curious glances when we entered camp. One of the boys I did not recognize and I realized I now had a face to pair with the heart Peter needed. Peter ignored everyone’s whispering and led me to his tent.

“Will you be okay in here?” Peter asked. “If you need me I’ll be right outside.”

“I’m fine.”

“One second,” he left and came back with a canteen and a bowl of food. “In case you get hungry. I also grabbed a couple books from your hut in case you wanted something to do. Do you need anything else?”

“Can you sit here with me for a minute? I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, precious,” He sat down next to me and pulled me into his lap. “You’d tell me if you really aren’t doing well, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” I buried my face in his neck. “Peter, I don’t know what game you are playing with these adults but if I can I want to be a part of it.”

“You already know why I won’t allow that.”

“Peter,” I fisted a hand in his tunic, “If you have the chance, leave Hook alive.”

“Why should I let that worm breathe after what he put you through?” Peter spat, “I should have killed him the second I saw him trying to take you.”

“No. Leave him alive and leave him to me.” Venom started to drip into my voice, “I want to be the one to kill him.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

[hotchley]

like blood underneath your fingernails

Honestly, I’m quite proud of this one. It’s been in the works for a while, and I finally have a title (from Looking Too Closely- Fink) and I both did those flashcards and emptied the dishwasher, so it’s here now. It’s been proofread!! Once. In the car.

The writers (according to the internet) did not deal with the aftermath of Scratch’s initial... thing. So I took it upon myself to write the case after. It got dark, but I had fun writing it. And it has low-key Mortch vibes... a lot of other amazing writers have also written fics linked to this, so you need to read those too because they’re just the best

OH!! This is not a Rossi-friendly fic. I have tried to explain why he responds the way he does, but it does come off as Rossi bashing, so if you reallllly love him and think he was a great friend to Hotch... skip on this one.

Trigger Warnings: dissociation, aftermath of torture, a slight reference to suicide and child death, canon-typical violence, cases involving kidnappings and murder, blood, dark themes, other canon-typical darkness, hallucinations

read on ao3!

He cannot close his eyes.

Because when he closes his eyes, he sees one of them, falling to the ground as the light leaves their eyes and the life leaves their body because his worst fear has never been his own death. It has always been the death of the family he is meant to protect- whether that was Sean, or Haley or the team. 

He hears the fear in JJ's voice as Spencer, her little brother, the boy that has always been too young, the man that he has never succeeded in saving, falls to the ground, eyes never opening again. 

He tastes the horrifying and coppery tang of blood as Derek is shot right in front of his eyes, the blood splattering onto his cheek and every sentence Reid has ever spoken about the bacteria and pathogens in blood springing to the forefront of his mind.

He smells the bitter and disgusting sage that Peter Lewis uses to torment people and turn them into brutal murderers that cannot stand the sight of their own hands or wrap their heads around their actions because they had always been normal and good, and it hurts because he's already a killer, never once normal or good.

He touches the knife that was slid towards him, the metal cool against his warm hand and the weight a comforting thing that make him feel like he could regain control of the situation he was in, despite the thoughts of George Foyet that fill his mind, and he wonders whether Scratch is impotent.

He closes his eyes and he no longer knows what is real.

It is why he is returning to work only ten days after the case. He had wanted to take the usual five, terrified even of that small number because he couldn't trust himself. The doctors that assessed him in the hospital wanted him to take thirty. Ten, and a passed psychological evaluation, had been the compromise.

He wonders if the team knows how he lied. They must do. They aren't stupid. He wonders if anyone will call him out on it, or if they'll once again be so terrified of the humanity he wants nothing more than to cling to that they will simply watch and wait until he shatters again.

The steady ticking of the clock is the only noise in the otherwise silent apartment. When he flicks the light on, he sees there are still five hours until he needs to wake up. For a single moment, he closes his eyes, contemplating whether or not attempting to sleep is a pointless exercise. He swears he can still taste sage and opens his eyes again.

A silent house is not necessarily a bad thing. It means Jack is sleeping through the night, no nightmares about the gunshots haunting him. And it means the extra locks on the door, the obsessive way he checks every window is locked as soon as the sun goes down, are doing their job at keeping the monsters out of the only home Jack has real memories of.

Aaron creeps out of bed, grabbing the jumper that was folded at the foot of his bed. Once he's put it on, he sighs to himself and counts to five. For each number, he tells himself a fact that cannot be disputed. That grounds him.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old. 

He is standing inside his bedroom, in his apartment, which is located in Virginia.

The windows of that apartment are locked from the inside.

Just down the hallway, his son is sleeping peacefully, untouched by the monsters that strangle his father every single day.

He creeps down that hallway, taking comfort when the same floorboard that always creaks does just that. Normally he would avoid it. But lately he's been finding every opportunity to do something that Peter Lewis would have no knowledge of, if only so he can convince himself he's fine.

Jack's door is slightly open, allowing some light to enter. Aaron nudges it gently, making sure he doesn't wake Jack. The door doesn't make a sound, and his son carries on sleeping. He never looks so similar to his mother as he does when he sleeps. Haley slept on her left side, a slight smile on her face, and Jack does the same, unless he has a bad dream.

But even then, he is so much like his mother that his tears can be turned into something beautiful. Aaron was the exception of their little family, having always expressed his emotions so honestly, the few times he let himself do that, that there was no way it could be anything but ugly and human.

He's too big for the chair in front of Jack's desk, but he sits in it anyways, turning it so he can face Jack's bed. On the table is his latest art project- a collage of things that remind him of the people he loves- and Aaron finds it difficult to look at. Because his son has painted his mother as a perfect angel, and his father a superhero.

One day, Jack will realise his father is the furthest thing from the superhero and he will hate him for destroying his childhood and taking his mother from him before he was old enough to understand that people were mortal. Aaron is mentally preparing for that day- there are already so many letters that will never excuse or justify what he did hidden in his office drawer- but until then. he will allow himself this one good thing.

He will allow himself to sit, and take comfort in the steady rise and fall of Jack's chest. He ends up staying there until sunlight starts to stream through the window, and then he takes his leave. 

Seeing Jack, sleeping so calmly and normally, reminds him of why he's going back to work. Because if he hurts the wrong person there, the team won't hesitate and they'll do it. If he hurts Jack- and he knows he's weaker than the man that refused to harm his son, knows that it will be Jack- there will be nobody there to end his pain and suffering. He'll be forced to live with it.

A minute before his alarm is set to go, he turns it off, and then he goes about morning like it is any other day. 

He doesn't feel like himself till he puts the watch Dave got him when became lead profiler on, tightening the strap till it mirrors the feeling of holding the knife. And he wonders whether the team are discussing his return to duty the same way they had six years ago. 

They are. Aaron's absence meant more paperwork for the rest of them, as there is no way the team are going to let him handle it when he comes back, so every single one of them are in an hour earlier. It also means his return will be as smooth as it can be.

Even if they don't all approve.

"It's only been ten days," Derek says. "He needs more time."

"Does he? He came back thirty-four days after George Foyet stabbed him in his apartment and his wife and son were sent into Witness Protection, and he was fine. This is like child's play compared to that," Dave says, fiddling with a paperclip.

"Ex-wife," Reid corrects quietly. 

The three of them are sitting in the bullpen, looking towards the elevator every few minutes. Kate pretends she's not listening, and Derek pretends he believes her.

"Was he fine? He looked us in the eye and asked why a man that had lost his wife and child was still alive. He walked into a hostage situation unarmed. We all pretended he was fine because we needed Foyet to strike, but I'm not making that mistake again. Not after what happened when he did end up striking," Derek snaps.

Spencer swallows. Dave just raises an eyebrow. It's almost funny. Spencer views Aaron as a father, Dave as a son. Either way, they both believe he is perfect. Able to come back from anything and everything with nothing more than a broken ego. But Derek remembers what Foyet's body looked like, and he remembers how Aaron had shattered in his arms for those few seconds.

"If you want to ruin his first day back, then be my guest. But you need to trust him the same way he trusts us. After all, you care more about him than you do your job," Dave says, annoyance bleeding into his tone.

And Derek gets it. He really does. He had wanted to believe Gideon was invincible when he came back after Boston. Everyone had. So they hadn't done anything, and he had just gotten more and more reckless with his actions until innocent people ended up dead and Hotch got suspended. And then he ran. 

He isn't going to let that happen again.

"This isn't about not trusting him. This is about keeping him safe. And you're right. I do care about him more, because the last time I didn't, he almost retired. So we either do the opposite of what we did last time, or we let history repeat itself."

"Derek, you can't force him into anything. He passed his psych eval, so Cruz can't do anything either," Spencer says. 

Derek softens as he turns to him. "I know pretty boy. It's not about forcing him into anything. It's about making sure he knows that we're here if he needs more time, or if he needs a break. And don't get me started on that psych eval. I saw his answers. They're too perfect. He's lying."

"So what are you going to do?" Dave challenges, and not for the first time, Derek wonders how Aaron kept his sanity working with him, Jason Gideon and Max Ryan at the same time without any of the other members to meet his eyes with the same exasperated look every time one of them reverted to the old fashioned way of doing things.

"Be the friend he trusts me to be," Derek says. It's his own challenge. Dave prides himself on being the only one to call him Aaron. To people outside the team, Rossi seems to be the only one that Aaron trusts enough to be vulnerable with. 

But Derek knows better. Aaron will never be completely open with anyone, but he still feels like he has a duty to be the hopeful and undamaged boy that thought he could save the world that Dave recruited. He still has a duty to be the father that Spencer never had and thought he'd found in Gideon. It is only with Derek that he allows himself to do his own type of falling apart: one that is contained and messy and ugly. Somehow both terrifying and anticlimactic

It was Derek that stopped him from running into a burning building all those years ago. It was Derek that was voluntarily told about Haley leaving. It was Derek that stepped up as Unit Chief and pulled him off Foyet's dead body. Not Dave and certainly not Spencer. So he won't let them influence his actions. Not this time.

Hotch does blink. But only when he thinks nobody will see him do it.

Dave keeps eye contact for a few more moments, but this time, Derek does not break it. Eventually the older man turns around and heads to his office. Derek sighs, knowing fully well that Aaron is going to end up doing the paperwork anyways.

"Is he going to be okay?" Spencer asks, sounding so painfully young that Derek has to look at him to remember he wasn't the new recruit anymore.

"Dave? Yeah, he'll be annoyed, we'll get a case and then everything will be fine," Derek says, smiling so Reid doesn't worry.

"No I meant Hotch. Will he be okay?"

Derek can't tell him the truth. "Of course he will. He's Hotch."

"Why are you lying to me?"

He knows there's no point in trying to deny it. "I'm not trying to patronise you or keep you in the dark. It's not that. It's just- I don't know. It's stupid, but I want to shield you from his mortality and flaws and imperfections for as long as is humanly possible. You are always going to have a different relationship with Hotch because of how much younger you are, and I just don't want to be the one that ruins it."

"So you want to protect me?"

Derek nods. "I guess."

"Thank you. Nobody ever did that when I was younger," Spencer says.

Kate breaks the ensuing silence by asking for Spencer's opinion on her consult, and Derek starts watching the elevator doors again. They don't open until precisely nine, when Hotch steps off, dressed in the same suit and tie he wears every second Monday of the month, carrying his briefcase and acting like nothing happened.

He gives them a slight smile as he passes them in the bullpen, and even those few seconds are enough for Derek to see that he hasn't been sleeping.

When Aaron sets his briefcase down, Spencer looks to him, nervous. Derek gives him a small smile, even though they all saw him as he entered. It's only been ten days since they last saw him, but his suits seem to hang from him more than before. Dave looks out at them, and Derek starts to count.

He counts to three hundred, and is immediately struck by just how fast time can go. Three hundred seconds is five minutes, and yet it feels like no time has passed. But when Hotch looks out at them, as he always does, everyday, without fail, ten days feels like a lifetime.

He is terrified as he stands, but he fights through the fear and goes up to his friend's office. The door is open, so he walks in without knocking. When Hotch looks at him, he closes both the door and the blinds. Hotch swallows as the sound of them closing fills the air.

"I don't want them profiling this conversation," he explains.

Aaron just nods. "Thank you."

"You don't need to pretend with me," Derek says.

Aaron looks away, and Foyet's presence, usually contained to the self-deprecating voice in his head telling him he's no better than his father, seems to fill the room. They both know why he doesn't pretend anymore.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't need to say anything. I don't expect you to tell me the truth, because I wouldn't, if I was you. I'd be too terrified. But I remember what it was like seeing Spencer and Emily. So if you do want to talk, then I'm here. Always. And I won't flinch."

Aaron knows this to be true. When they finally got back to Quantico after Jason's death, Derek found him sobbing in the men's bathroom, the barriers he had spent so long piecing together completely breaking when he opened his drawer and found a photo from the early days, where Jason looked happy and hopeful. He hadn't said anything. Just sat beside him, and offered a tissue. 

"I know you won't."

Derek sighs, not sure what he's meant to do. "Aaron-" he starts, not sure what he's going to see next.

"I can't trust myself. I- I don't know what's real, and I keep trying to do the grounding things that the bureau therapist said I need to, but I don't know if they're working. I have post-it notes all over the apartment and I have my five facts, and I have things I can touch, but Scratch knew so much, I can't- I feel like he's everywhere and he knows everything."

It is so honestly vulnerable that Derek wants nothing more than to flee, if only so he can cling to the Aaron that existed when he first joined the unit for just one more moment. But he made a promise. And he has no idea how he's meant to keep it, but he's going to.

He holds his hand out. When Aaron doesn't take it, he leans over the desk, gently linking their fingers. "I'm here. With you. Scratch can't get our body temperatures perfect. He can't know that I'm always slightly warmer and you're always colder. He can't know that twelve years ago, I called you darling because I didn't realise it was you."

Aaron chuckles slightly. "Derek."

"You don't need to say anything. I messed up after Foyet. I won't do that again."

He shakes his head, finally meeting his eyes, and the fire in them is almost enough to convince Derek that everything is going to be fine. Almost.

"You did everything you could after Foyet. If you had tried to do more, I would have stopped you. We both know that. You did everything right, everything perfectly right and you cannot feel like you failed because you didn't. Do you understand me?"

Derek swallows. “Yes. But you need to understand that if you need anything- and I mean anything, whether it’s for me to take the reins for a bit, an unofficial firearms certification, or even just to do the grounding techniques with you, I will.”

Aaron nods. “I know Derek. I know. Thank you.”

Derek gives him the most convincing smile he can, leaving the door open because Aaron hated having it closed. As he exits. Dave steps in, and he sees as Aaron morphs back into Hotch to be the man that Dave needs him to be. It hurts to see, but he understands why it happens.

He doesn’t believe in God. He hasn’t for a while. But he needs to do something other than stare at dead bodies, so he prays that the team remain grounded for a few days. Not for too long because then Aaron will get suspicious and realise that Derek had been forging Rossi’s signature in order to transfer their out of state cases to other teams, but long enough for him to get settled once more.

Or as settled as he would ever be.

It’s probably why, only minutes after Dave leaves Hotch’s office, smiling, whilst the other man just looks exhausted, JJ comes rushing into the bullpen. There are five files in her arms, and she looks frantic. 

“No,” Derek says.

“I’m sorry, but we need to go on this one. It came directly to me. It’s- just look.”

He doesn’t want to, but as JJ goes to give the files to Dave and Aaron, he does, if only so he can gauge how much support he will need. And as he opens it, he understands exactly why they’re going on this case. Why, even if JJ had tried to hide it from Hotch, he would’ve said they had a duty.

They have four victims. All blonde women. All mothers. All divorced. Killed by a single gunshot to the head. No evidence of sexual assault, but they were held captive and tortured for three days before being dumped in their home. All found by their ex-husbands, who were only there to drop the child off.

Hotch does not show an ounce of humanity during the journey there. It terrifies Derek. Hotch only refuses to show how human he is when he’s close to falling apart. Too close for anyone to feel comfortable. Instead, he keeps his tone detached and professional. Derek pretends to not notice the way Aaron pushes down on his stomach, over the biggest scar Foyet left. Aaron pretends he doesn’t see Derek watching him.

When they get to the station, Derek knows it’s going to be a long case. Him and Reid are sent to the coroner’s office, whilst JJ and Kate are tasked with searching through their victims history. Which means Hotch and Rossi are left to interview the husbands. JJ and Derek- the most attuned to Hotch and the thought behind his actions- make a silent agreement that they will do whatever it takes to make sure Rossi doesn’t go too far. Whatever that means.

They fail because they don’t get the chance to speak to him before they leave the precinct.

And when they return, Dave is nowhere to be seen, and Aaron is sat in the conference room, clenching his jaw and hyper focused on the details in the case files.

“Did you get anything from the husbands?” JJ asks, tone gentle.

Hotch shakes his head. “They’re grieving, and terrified for their children. But they’re not guilty. They all loved their wives.”

Nobody bothers to point out all four couples were divorced.

"Where's Rossi?" Reid asks.

The tension in Aaron's shoulders increases.

"Hotch," Kate says, the only one that can.

"He accused one of the father's of committing the crime," Hotch says.

JJ and Morgan give each other identical looks. Kate looks horrified, and Spencer is stunned speechless.

"What happened after?" she prompts.

Hotch doesn't speak. Kate sighs, then leads JJ away. As she passes Spencer, she asks him to follow her because Hotch and Morgan need to speak alone. He nods and leaves without another word.

"Aaron," Derek says.

"I ended the interrogation and dragged him out of the room. And then I punched him in the face because those women remind me of Haley and those fathers remind me of myself and every accusation he made reminded me of the months after her death and I couldn't do it."

Derek wants to punch Dave himself. He must have known what he was doing, and in some strange and obscure way thought his actions would help the situation. Clearly he couldn't have been more wrong.

"You didn't cause Haley's death," he says, for lack of any other words.

"I did. Maybe I didn't put the gun to her head and pull the trigger, but I did cause it. That's not what I'm scared about though."

"What are you scared of then?" Derek asks, well aware that they're in the middle of a police station where anyone could hear them, but needing to take advantage of Aaron's vulnerability before he let his mask slip back into place.

"Scratch. I punched Dave and it felt like Scratch was laughing at me, egging me on to hurt him more. The worst part is that I almost did. Punching him felt good, and then I panicked and now I don't know- I don't know whether the only thing I did was punch him or if I did something more."

Derek curses under his breath. "How long have you been feeling like that?"

Hotch shrugs. "I couldn't- I forgot what time it was when I stumbled back here. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he says, the words almost reflexive because of every apology Aaron has ever given him. "We just need to ground you."

He takes Aaron's hands, noting that the muscles are moving the way they should be. It's a small thing, but it's a good thing, because it means he's wearing the wrist support when he needs them and doing the physical therapy.

“Look at me,” he commands softly.

Aaron does so willingly. “Derek, we’re in a conference room.”

“That’s good. Can you give me four other facts that prove you’re here, in this moment with me?”

"My name is Aaron Hotchner. I am forty-four years old. We are in a police station. You are Derek Morgan. There is a door behind you and a window behind me- the window is locked, but the door is wide open. We can both see if someone walks in."

"Show off," Derek teases.

Aaron manages to smile slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers after a moment.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Derek says. He means it.

This time, Aaron’s laugh is self-deprecating. “I’m a horrible person to look after.”

“Not to me you’re not. How do you feel now?”

He shrugs. “Better, I guess.”

“Drink some water. Slowly. I’ll go check on Dave.”

“Do you think he’s going to hate me?” Aaron asks.

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend. Of course not,” Derek says. He keeps his tone light, but deep down he’s afraid that Dave will. Not forever, he could never do that, but for long enough that something else goes wrong.

He finds Dave in the bathroom. 

“Hotch told me what happened,” he says.

“And what? You’re here to tell me that I shouldn’t have pushed because he’s fragile and hurting? Did you tell him that he shouldn’t have fucking punched me in the face because of something I said to a suspect?”

“Those men were not suspects and you know that,” Derek snaps. He sighs. “I wasn’t coming here to tell you that you shouldn’t have pushed. I came to see whether or not you were okay.”

Dave raises an eyebrow. Derek sighs, again.

“He saw Scratch when he punched you. Now he’s worried. And he’s falling back into old patterns. I told him he didn’t kill Haley and not only did he not believe me, he flat out disagreed and said he did.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dave asks. He doesn’t sound angry, just tired. Derek wants to shout at him. He may be tired after this one event, but he’s not been the one picking up the pieces and gluing their fragile leader back together for the past few years. Dave doesn’t get to be tired. Not whilst Derek is still the only one able to do anything.

“I don’t know Dave. You’ve known him the longest. It was you that found him in the immediate aftermath. You took the gun from him- rather poetic given the last time an unsub targeted him, you told him to take yours- and got him to speak.”

Dave blinks a few times. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought being hard on him would bring him back, but I was wrong.”

“It’s okay. You just need to correct yourself now,” Derek says, for lack of any other words.

“I just want him to be the boy he was when he first joined the unit,” Dave whispers.

Derek did not know the boy his friend was then, but he does know the Aaron that existed before Boston. The Aaron that held a baby Jack in their arms like that one small child was enough to remove every piece of darkness to exist. The Aaron that had grabbed Haley’s hand and taken her dancing so they could spend a bit of time together.

"We all do. But he's gone now. The only thing we can do is try to save whatever pieces of him live in the Aaron that is sat in the conference room, beating himself up over something that was not his fault because of your misplaced comment," Derek says. They have a killer to catch. There's no time to entertain this.

"I know. Thank you. For doing what the rest of us are too afraid to," Dave replies. Derek shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. 

Something about the dynamic between the two men has changed, and everybody has noticed.

"Somebody has to," is all he can say, before he leaves Rossi to wash his hands and search for the man that had promised Aaron everything he could ever want, all those years ago when he first recruited him for the BAU.

There's an empty glass of water beside Hotch when Derek returns, and he's silently thankful that for once in his life, Aaron listened. He's deep in conversation with one of the police officers, so he refrains from making any comments, but when Aaron turns back towards the table, he goes over without a second thought.

He tells himself it's because he wants to know what happened just then. Because he wants to know whether or not they have any more information that can be used to their advantage. He tells himself it has nothing to do with the fact that learning about the case means he doesn't have to focus on the minute tremble of Hotch's hands. Doesn't have to see the hollow look in his eyes- a look of a man so defeated that he has no reason to try anymore.

The problem with being a profiler is that you rarely fall for anyone's bullshit- including your own.

“Did the officer have some additional information?” Derek asks.

Hotch hears him, obviously, but does not respond.

“Hotch,” he repeats.

“No. He didn’t. He wanted to know why you were holding my hands.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “And what did you say?”

“That ten days a man that managed to turn people that would never dare hurt another person into horrific killers drugged me, causing me to hallucinate the deaths of the same people that are solving his case for him, and as a result, I cannot always tell when things are real,” Aaron deadpans.

For a moment, Derek honestly can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. Then Aaron gives him the smallest smile, and he relaxes slightly. The last thing they need happening is officers spreading even more rumours about the types of cases the BAU work on.

He starts to reply with a joke of his own, then sees Aaron’s smile fade away like it was never there. He wonders how instinctive the action is- how many times was that little boy told he was too much, and how many times did he fade into the background like he didn’t even exist?

Without turning, he knows it’s Dave.

“I’m going to see if Spencer needs any help,” Derek says.

For a moment, it seems like Aaron is going to beg him to stay. But like most of his displays of humanity, it passes in a second, and then he simply nods, not even trying to fight.

“Aaron,” Dave says, walking over with purpose.

“Rossi don’t. Please,” Aaron pleads.

“What you did was stupid. But my actions were also uncalled for,” he says. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to a proper apology. Aaron accepts it because there’s not much else he can do. Dave pretends it’s going to fix everything because it’s the only thing that will get him through the case.

“Do you seriously think the fathers are to blame?” Hotch asks.

Rossi shakes his head. “Not anymore. I just needed to be sure.” He also needed to be sure that Aaron was fine, and given his response to Rossi’s accusation, he can’t say he’s convinced.

"Good," Aaron says, and the smile he gives Dave is so small and subtle, but so full of love, that for a single moment, the older profiler is able to convince himself that the fragile collection of skin and bones in front of him is still the hopeful boy that joined the unit. But then the moment passes and he's left feeling worse than before.

When the team come back, picking up on the cues that both Hotch and Rossi laid down, they go back to acting like nothing is wrong. Like the women in the photos are victims that deserve justice, and not the mirror of the same light they failed to save five years ago.

There are no breaks in the case, and they return to the hotel defeated and miserable. Budget problems mean they're doubling up. Part of Derek wants to switch rooms with Dave so he can keep an eye on Aaron, but the bigger part of him knows it would be a terrible idea, so he texts him saying that if he needs anything, no matter what time it is, he'll be available.

Aaron mouths the words thank you once he's read the message. Derek counts it as a win, and he tries to remain calm when Dave texts him saying that when he entered the shower- after Hotch- although the water dial was set to be normal, the water ran hot. Too hot.

He refrains from commenting the next morning, when Aaron clasps his glass of freezing water like a lifeline. In some ways, it is. And he knows what it's a sign of. He isn't sure whether it's caused by something in particular, or if he's just overwhelmed, but the hotel dining area- where Kate and Spencer would both hear- isn't the place to ask.

They get to the precinct, and it becomes clear that nobody there has slept. Another woman was found dead a few minutes before they got there. The father and son are sitting in the same conference room the BAU were working out of. For a moment, Aaron looks like he's going to kill the person that sent them there. The lead on the case quickly intercepts, saying they moved the boards and evidence files, and he relaxes slightly.

But before anyone can sleep, he removes his blazer and tie, before unbuttoning his top button and rolling his sleeves up. And then he walks into the conference room. Derek blinks, then it clicks. Aaron looks like a father. Someone both people sat in the room can trust. JJ hands him the information on the file, and his breathing stops for a moment.

The father and son could have been Aaron and Jack. If Aaron's eyes were darker and Jack's hair lighter, they would be the boys smiling in the photo provided with the file. He wants to take over the conversation Hotch must be having, but he finds himself rooted to the spot. How many cases are going to hit too close to home before Aaron gives up? Before it feels like every victim wears Haley's face? 

How many more times can Aaron Hotchner look into the darkest parts of humanity before his hands stop going cold at crime scenes and Derek Morgan needs to take his place in some weird parallel of the events that occurred after Boston? 

When the father and son leave the room, he jumps out of his chair and runs over.

"We will catch this man. And if you need anything, please don't hesitate to contact me," he hears Aaron say.

He sighs to himself.

The father shakes his hand and leaves, guiding his son with nothing more than a gentle hand to the back of his head. He sees Aaron swallow. 

"You know you can't promise things like that," he chastises, not truly meaning it.

"It wasn't a promise. It was a guarantee," Hotch snaps.

Morgan simply raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"I told him about Haley, and how I found her. And about how Jack was just down the hallway in my office- the one place in our home that my work touched, even if he never found it- so now he can't be alone on New Years or Independence Day. I only said it because he told me I didn't understand what it was like. To have to do that."

No amount of surgery is ever going to fix the hole in Aaron's heart that Haley's death created. They could plant seeds of love and watch them blossom into flowers of acceptance and fearlessness in every other part of his body, but that one area could never be touched.

Derek knows this. He's seen it before.So he doesn't offer any words, because there are none. Instead, he takes Aaron's arm and he squeezes the elbow. It is Aaron's non-verbal method of saying thank you. So in that moment, it can also be his.

Aaron isn't entirely sure why Derek is thanking him, but he learnt long ago that when someone said something, you didn't push. You accepted their words- whether they were kind declarations of love or as sharp as knives- and you moved on.

When Derek lets go of him, he walks back over to the team, feeling slightly lighter and infinitely more grounded.

Kate tells him another woman had been taken, and the weight he thought he'd been able to let go off settles on his chest like a death threat. There is a single moment where she worries that this will be the thing that causes him to fall off the edge of the cliff he's been standing on for far too long, but then he stands up properly and it's like nothing ever happened.

He doesn't sleep, instead pouring over the case file whilst Rossi gently snores beside him. If Jason had been with the team. he would've somehow realised that Hotch was still awake, and told him to go to sleep. And Hotch would've obeyed. But Jason wasn't with the team. He was dead. And sometimes that knowledge knocked Aaron off guard, so he stopped focusing on that and started concentrating on the woman.

Their break comes the next morning.

Garcia hasn't slept either, and between the two of them, they have a name and a location. Everyone piles into the cars, vests on and weapons ready, because even though nobody had said it, there was no way this is ending without at least one shot being fired.

The door to the building is unlocked, and they have their unsub surrounded within seconds. Hotch suddenly feels like a bucket of ice has been poured over him, causing him to freeze, and the blood to start pounding in his ears. Nothing feels real to him. He tightens the grip on his gun.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old.

He is holding a gun because he is on a case.

The unsub is holding a knife to a woman's throat.

The woman looks just like Haley- no. He cannot think that. Not now. 

"Let her go," JJ commands softly.

"No," their unsub says.

What is his name? And why can Aaron not remember his name?

"If you put that knife down, and let her go, we can tell the courts that you cooperated with us. That'll be nice, won't it?" Kate adds. Her tone is completely level. Calming in a way that it shouldn't be.

The unsub grins, then presses the knife even closer to his victim's throat. She lets out a terrified whimper and closes her eyes. He yanks her hair, forcing her to open then, and he seems pleased with himself.

"I don't care about the courts. I care about the man I'm doing all of this for. He's going to be great, and he's going to make me great too. Just you wait and see."

This wasn't part of the profile. There was never meant to be a more dominant partner. The control Aaron has been clinging to in order to get through this case is slowly slipping away with each piece of information he either cannot remember or is introduced to him. 

"He? Who is he?" Spencer asks.

The man cocks his head. "Is it not obvious?"

Spencer shakes his head. "We're not like you. We need you to explain."

He nicks the skin slightly. Blood pools at the tip of the blade. Another digression from the previous pattern. No knives were ever used to cut the skin. The kills had been quick and clean. Why was everything changing?"

"I won't."

"The only way you get out of this alive is if you explain everything to us. Because this man, he won't make you great. Whoever he is, he only cares about himself. Not you. Certainly not your life. But we care about you. Just set the knife down," Derek says.

Aaron knows he needs to contribute, but he just can't do it. His tongue is like a useless knot in his mouth that he can't undo because his brain is twisted too.

"No," the man says, bringing it dangerously close to the woman's pulse.

"Aaron!" Derek shouts. "You're the only one with a clear shot. You need to take it. Or do something. Do you hear me? You are the only one that can do this. If he moves that knife, take the shot."

Aaron turns in the sound of the voice. Derek is telling him that he needs to take the shot, and he can see why. With the way they're stood, he is the only one that can possibly avoid hitting either the woman or another team member. 

He raises his hands, ignoring how they tremble. Front sight. Trigger press. Follow through. Three steps that he has been following since his days at the Academy. Three steps that mean he has never missed. Never failed.

The man smirks.

Aaron turns to make sure nobody else will get hurt, or can take the shot. But when he looks at Derek, it's not Derek.

It's Peter Lewis.

"No," he whispers, but in the silence of the room, he may as well have shouted at the top of his voice.

He turns to look at the man, and he sees that he is about to shoot Derek Morgan. The one person that has never been afraid of him. The one man that is still good and undamaged by his hands. The one man that can and has led the team without any sort of assistance with him.

"Aaron!" Derek's voice exclaims, but he still wears Mr Scratch's face.

Aaron does not know what is real anymore, but he knows he needs to minimise the damage. The gun falls from his hands, with the safety off. It lands on the floor with a clatter that is too loud to his ears.

Their unsub laughs, once, and slits the woman's throat. She falls to the ground, dead by the time she hits the ground. Derek- real Derek, whose hands have always been warmer than his- fires his gun once. The unsub also falls to the ground with a shout.

Aaron closes his eyes.

He hears his name.

He tastes copper.

He touches his own hand, startled by the coldness.

He sees Derek's terrified face.

He smells sage.

He smells sage.

He smells sage. And then the world goes black.

When he comes round, he does not know where he is. He does not know where the team is. He cannot ground himself in the moment or come up with five facts that prove his surroundings are real. 

He opens his eyes. The team is gone.

And he is covered in blood.

[givemeonebreath]

A big, messy Linked Universe playlist

Link for Links

Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)

Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.

A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.

I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist. But. It’s long.

I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey. Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague. Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.) Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head. Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. 

My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.

1. Deep Purple - April (Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)

2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura

3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One (I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.) So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown. All my border stamps were late. Seven days old. Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone. Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.

4. FC Kahuna - Hayling Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here

5. Glass Animals - Youth Boy, when I left you you were young I was gone, but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy A restless boy in a world too slow A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow I've given everything I gave it all Yet find myself alone

7. Haken - The Endless Knot Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line our cycle starts to fail. Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line we die to live again.   We need a story to believe in. We need a hero to prevail. We need a challenge we can overcome, it takes a tragedy to make us one 

8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight) I am the god in my own history The master of the game I may believe if she would come to me And whisper out my name Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone If life has ever been Sometimes I wonder how belief alone Can cut me free from sin

9. Katatonia - Fighters Look I told you so We never stop If we said that We'll back it up For sure You know We're fighters

10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors) For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing With confidence I tread through the dead of the night Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde

11. Moon Tooth - Igneous Well, the spirit took me And this old broken body leapt up and danced Settin’ out Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back Hawk am I More wings span in my shadow than overcast Yeah, you know what they say Always need something to look up to, ha

12. Samael - Moongate Destiny, tomorrow is today Destiny, without boundaries How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...

13. TOOL- Parabola This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion

14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope No matter how hard you try To shut down your feverish thoughts They hunt you down with no regret Cause you have to fix it all

15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family

16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces Gone, now carry on Through violent seasons I call you mother, mother, mother In vain, absent chain The twilight's bleeding And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon All she gives is a stone facade Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake Here we slave for the dreams of another And fight over scraps like wayward dogs

18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience

19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance Three stones on the right side Three stones on the left My vicious circle of life and death   “Oh you want it” I hear it again “Oh you want it” My burden Curse to break

20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods Run through your shaded woods Run through your shaded mind Run through the night Run away Run through the darkness Run

21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie

22. David Bowie - Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange, enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he

23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep Well, I could sleep forever But it's of her I dream If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything 

24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) Tripping and tumbling, Flipping and fumbling. Flowing on the rivers of sadness That have been forever rumbling.   But from dawn until now Of all the paths that I could have gone down Of all the valleys That I could have been flowing through.   In spite of all the chaos And all that has come between us, How is it I still find myself Here with you. 

25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes Your hands again upon the ground Falling rain for hours and hours As you learn the game Time dispels the fog ... Ever been there? Ever felt like prey? Ever thought your mind was feeble? Lot of things that don’t make sense

26. Pain of Salvation - Icon As a child I felt too old And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young A different kind so I've been told Just slightly out of reach and out of time

27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference (I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)

28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool Runnin Gunnin Forward in the phantom shatter so grand Splatter grand, arcanum fuel Wrought iron out of the sky Over me, tells no lie

29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run All on the open road Where none will ever grow A journey toward the known With countless miles to go

30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders I am the first? No I can't be the first A continuous nothing, destined for something Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here

31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run Run, pig, run Here I come

32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort The swords are drawn and odds are stacked And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap Calm demeanor Even though we are under attack [...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]

33. The Great Discord - Army of Me (lol)

34. Kongos - Terrified I think I'll start again and change my name You only live once or twice, what a shame Somebody fucked up when designing this game

35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run Run, boy, run! This ride is a journey to Run, boy, run! The secret inside of you Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy Run, boy, run! And disappear in the trees

36. The Beta Machine - The End A million miles away from you this time I'll do what it takes I'm on my way If lines are in the sand I'll go under If I can make it in time I will bring you back with me

37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump When we last met who was I? I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out I'm sorry how you'll take this  But I just don't have the patience anymore 

38. Arrested Youth - Riot! I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast Can't sleep with all my rage With me and all my generations living in this cage Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage

39. Led Zeppelin - Friends So anytime somebody needs you Don't let them down, although it grieves you Some day you'll need someone like they do Looking for what you knew

40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild) Fight your foes you're not alone Holy war is on the phone Asking to please stay on hold Bleeding loss of blood runs cold And I need you to recover   Because I can't make it on my own

41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild) I want them to know it's me, it's on my head I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain

42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild) I know you At least I think I do Everything's changed But in the days that are so dark It's wonderful

43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild) Shadow of my shadow Cling not to my grief I am long left behind now You are free

44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild) Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us No one can separate us For we are all that is left The echo bounces off me The shadow lost beside me There's no more need to pretend Cause now I can begin again 

45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild) My voice travelling Soaring bird above your head The house we lived in Ridden with disease ... The levee breaking I can't live to fight once more The road to the grave is straight as an arrow I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby

46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild) There is no romance in suffocation  The walls fall down like your expectations You want to scream  And you want to shout But you've built up steam  And you can't let it out This is pressure 

47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild) We'll wait 1000 years  Until the end of time We'll wait 1000 more Dressed up in gold and white We'll climb the mountain sides  To find what's in the sky We'll dig through mountain sides  To find what's deep inside

48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild) Forgot my name and who I was. Memories of nothing floating up. All of the sorrow we once knew, Colours the ocean's water blue.

49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight) I am corrosive and cohesive Like a chemical bond I'm all together undone I am the broken kingdom I'm just so, so, so  So carnivorous

50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight) I wanna go back with a club and attack I wanna take to my guns and break you I gotta make my little foe take his own

51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight) My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it

52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight) All my demons cast a spell The souls of dusk rising from the ashes So the book of shadows tell The weak will always obey the master

53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend) I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster Had a fever woke up in a sweat bailing out the water  Can't go on Can't go back   Heard your voice coming through the noise wrote it in the radio log Hurt my head, wondering what you said so I threw it overboard  

54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend) I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie see I'm moving soon see my feet are already on the road and if you know where I’m going don’t tell a soul

55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend) The shape of things to come are closer than they seem Changing your design every time you disappear I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind Where people seem to drop like flies

56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend) Sometimes I hate my fucking species Yet most days I'll do anything to please it  My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams But it is not what it seems You never need what you want And you rarely want what you need

57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend) All my life, misunderstood I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good The last question, before I go is "Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?"  Yes! I kiss your mama with this mouth

58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend) Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit Like I give a fuck about that shit Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit

59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend) Froze asleep Coma deep I dream I'm out with you Alone at sea

60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend) You're in my dreams The world is torn apart at the seams And I don't wanna leave Wearing my heart on it's sleeve

61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend) The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches And I'm not sure what that means either

62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule) I am nobody, nobody is who I am I am a traveler on this land And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands

63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule) You're staring at the sun You're standing in the sea Your mouth is open wide You're trying hard to breathe The water's at your neck There's lightning in your teeth Your body's over me

64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time) Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky) Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now And all this rage has got to go now Let’s take up this lifeline Come on, baby, gimme some sugar Don’t make me wait Don’t make me wait too long Don’t make me sing the sad song Come on, baby, gimme some sugar

66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky) Rise above the hardships you’ll face I will sign and keep on rising As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake Feel like home and spread your light around I will listen and just be there As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul

67. Sonique - Sky -_-

68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon) Watch your back, my friend I'm about to kickstart a cycle Of never ending revenge And this time it's primal, it's tribal

69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia) "You've been polluted, uprooted by time You have been muted, computed but I'm A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun" Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck? Hey! But you keep living your lies

70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess) Shadows dance back up, it's happening again If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper: "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know" Can't you see them Floating like black ash? Can't you feel them Crawling down your back?

[starrynite7114]

snapshots: assumptions

A/N: I cannot believe I have been regularly updating, but the muse has been so strong. I would like to thank @iambabyharry​ for listening to my crazy vents about this story. 

I would just like to apologize now, there is some angst in this chapter. 

If you would like to be added to the taglist for snapshots, please let me know!

Hope you all like the update!

Taglist: @iambabyharry​; @thegirlwhowritesfics​

Masterlist

“You can’t do this,” Rafael frowned as you packed your things. Ares was lying beside Rafael, watching you as well as you placed clothes in a box. 

“Rafa, I just,” you sighed, holding the edges of the box that had your clothing. “He’s having a baby with Adelita, I don’t want to be here for that. I can’t take that.”

“You don’t even know that! It’s all assumptions at this point!” Rafael was frustrated to say the least. Your spontaneous actions were definitely causing his blood pressure to rise since he knew he would have to deal with the aftermath. Angel was going to come knocking on his door, demanding to know where you were. “You always do this, you need to communicate with him.”

“There’s no point, he would want me to stay and I can’t do that. I know it sounds selfish, but this is just like my father.” You purse your lips, taking the box down.

“Angel is madly in love with you, don’t be stupid.”

“I’m due to be in Arizona next week, there’s no changing my mind now.”

Rafael groaned. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“I don’t expect you to agree with my decision, but as my best friend, can’t you just show me some support here, Angel has been cheating on me.”

You always knew it was too good to be true. That the ship had sailed for Angel when it came to Adelita. She most likely rejected him and he ran to you. That thought was always at the back of your mind and you could usually keep it at bay but after everything that has occurred the last month and a half, your decision had been made.

It wasn’t a spontaneous decision. At first, you could live with the recent revelations you found out. There were other options after all if you could not have kids. But finding out still broke your heart.

======================

You sat down, awaiting for the nurse to call you. After having your yearly check-up with the doctor, you decided to schedule an appointment with an OBGYN since you were much more sexually active than you have been before. No birth control as Angel specifically asked that you stopped. At first you were opposed to it, but at this point, you were ready to have children, you’ve been ready. You had your initial exam with the OBGYN 2 weeks ago and now, you were following up.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” you heard the nurse call out. 

You stood up, giving her a smile as you walked past her. She led you to one of the examination rooms, sitting on the bed. You waited for the OBGYN to come, anxiously waiting for her to come. Coming here was a bit premature, but you just wanted to make sure everything was in order. You and Angel were ready to have kids. It was a big step, considering everything that you both had going on, but there was never really a good time to have kids. 

What mattered was that you were both financially stable, to some extent, and you would be able to provide for your children. 

It frightened you, but it felt right at the same time. You couldn’t explain it, but you were ready, especially since Angel was so eager to have a child. He was going to be a great father, you just knew it. He doted over your niece whenever she was in town and you couldn’t want to see Angel with a daughter of his own.

Your OBGYN, Dr. Preci walked in, giving you a warm smile as she always did when you’ve seen her before. 

“How are you?” She greeted as she sat in front of you.

“Good, kind of eager, how are you doing?”

“I’m well, busy day as always,” she opened your folder and a quick grimace graced her face before it went back to a smile, except it looked tighter than before. 

That made your stomach churn.

“When you have sexual intercourse with your partner, do you use protection?” 

You shook your head. “No, I guess in some ways we’ve been trying to have a child.”

Dr. Preci nodded her head. “I see,” she wrote some notes down. “We checked all your lab works, which showed abnormal hormone levels, which we can easily prescribe medication for. However, your ultrasound was a bit concerning.”

“How so?”

“Well, uterine fibroids were noted in your ultrasound and with your history of irregular periods and uterine fibroids, we would like to do further testing to assure that everything is well in order.”

“Further testing?” You were frightened, did you have cancer? Your irregular periods never bothered you since it was nice to not feel pain for a long period of time. Your periods were always so painful. Whenever you did have your time of the month, you were always incapacitated due to the pain. For some reason, you always thought that this was how it was normally for everyone and Midol did help every once in a while.

“We cannot guarantee till we get further testing, but I’m afraid that you will not be able to conceive a child.”

======================

You remember the day so well and after further testing, you found out 2 weeks ago that you couldn’t have children. You felt as if you were stabbed in the heart, over and over again as the words repeated in your head. Ares was your companion for 2 days, refusing to talk to Angel as you knew it would greatly disappointment him. When you finally had the courage to speak to him, your world shattered all over again.

======================

Taking a deep breath, you exited your car that you parked outside of the scrapyard. You could do this. You and Angel could adopt or even discuss other options with Dr. Preci. Waving a quick hello to Chucky, you walked quickly towards the clubhouse. But you halt your steps when you see Adelita, a very pregnant Adelita with Angel. You felt your heart clench as your eyes landed on Angel, with a look of such admiration and happiness, caressing her abdomen. 

Adelita cupped his face, softly caressing it and you couldn’t breathe. Quickly, you turned around and made your way back to your car. You faintly heard Chucky call out to you, but you were in your car, already thinking of a way to leave. You were finally able to live with the fact that you couldn’t give Angel a child. But you never even thought that he could have another baby with another woman. You wouldn’t be able to stay by his side as selfish as that sounded because you wouldn’t fully have Angel.

With Adelita pregnant, that meant he must have cheated on you. She didn’t look more than 6 months and you’ve been together for close to 9 months. You felt sick to your stomach as the picture replayed in your mind.

You weren’t going to be the other woman, this just reminded you of the situation of your father and how he left you all for another woman since your mother could not conceive another child. It hit far too close to home. 

You made the decision then and there that you were leaving. You were going to break up with Angel and that unborn child could have a complete family with Angel and Adelita. 

======================

That was 3 weeks ago and you’ve been playing your part with Angel since then. 

You played like nothing was wrong, but you knew Angel could tell you were pulling away. You weren’t actively avoiding him, but club business has kept him away. The movers were going to be here in an hour to bring your stuff to the moving truck and drive it to Arizona for you. Rafael was going with you to drop you off and he was gonna fly back to San Diego.

This was the cowards way out and you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t pack up your whole apartment, just most of your clothing was going with you. The company you worked for provided your housing that was furnished. The only thing you truly needed was your own personal items.

“I am your best friend, which is why I’m trying to prevent you from making a big mistake.” Rafael helplessly watched as you went back in your closet to get another box of clothing done. 

“So you’re saying I should just suck it up and watch Angel have a baby with another woman?”

“Ugh, you’re being so difficult! Of course not, I just want you to get all your facts checked before moving to another fucking state.” Rafael has had this argument with you numerous times, but once your mind was made up, it was hard to change.

“For what?! The facts are there! How do I actually know he’s doing club business? They’re working with Adelita now.” you felt the tears well up and fall from your eyes. You never went into depth with Rafael on what the club did, it was for his own safety after all.

“Babe, I get it, but you’re overreacting without even talking to him.”  Rafael felt it was a moot point to try and sway you, but he had to try. He thought you and Angel were perfect together. If you only saw what he saw every time you were with Angel. And for a person who once threatened Angel’s position in your life, Rafael experienced first hand just how much Angel cherished you .

“You don’t get it, it never made sense. Angel’s gonna be just like my dad who left my mom cause she couldn’t conceive any longer. I’m just beating him to the punch.”

“This is actually insulting towards Angel, you think Angel is going to be just like your father? How could you even think that? Angel is nothing like your father.” 

Your father left your mother when you were younger. You never truly understood till your mother explained what happened. She didn’t try to make your father look like an awful man, he made his choice since he wanted more children. Though, your father has tried to reach out to you and your sister, he was happy with his new family and quite frankly, you didn’t want him anywhere near you. 

“I didn’t think my father was an asshole too till he never came back.”

“This is misplaced anger, I think you need to talk to Angel and straighten this out.”

“There’s no point, besides he’ll just lie to me.” Your anxiety has been at an all time high as of late. You hated how the insecurities that you’ve tried to bury for years have been plaguing your mind, no matter how hard you tried to push them away. Rafael made complete sense, you should talk to Angel, but you had nothing to offer him. Adelita was someone Angel was in love with, he told you so and now, she’s pregnant with his child, something you could never give him. Maybe you could stay by his side, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to do so. Knowing Angel has possibly cheated on you and conceived a child, that was too much for you to bear. You should have known this was something that was coming, everything was too fucking good between you two. 

“Your anxiety is really doing a number on you, I know it’s not something you can control, but he’s your best friend, you know him better than anyone.”

“I know him better than anyone, that’s why I know what he’s going to do. Angel Reyes is a charming man who knows how to get himself out of trouble,” you slightly chuckle at your own description of Angel. “I love him so much that I’m willing to let him go.”

“You’re making a big mistake babe,”

“I’ll live with the consequences.”

======================

Angel quickly made his way up the stairs of your apartment, not even waiting for the elevator. He had to see you. He hasn’t seen you in a few days and all he wanted to do was hold you. It was a tough few days with the altercation with EZ then the information Happy had given them. All he wanted to do was tell you all about it as he held you. If anything, he wanted to hear all about what he missed out with you. He hadn’t spoken to you for a day since he wanted to just travel home and talk to you then. 

Opening your apartment, he was surprised that Ares didn’t greet him by the door. Even though Ares was still loyal to you, he warmed up to Angel to some extent.

“Baby!” He called out to you. 

Closing the door behind him, he removed his boots and kutte. His eyebrow raised noticing that your apartment seemed so much more bare. He knew you liked to clean every other weekend since Ares’ fur got all over your things. Usually you were at Angel’s on the weekends, but since he wanted to surprise you, he didn’t let you know he was coming back.

“Baby girl!” He figured you walked Ares or something, the dog did have far too much energy for his own good at times. 

Angel walked further inside your apartment and became nervous. Ares’ bowls were not in your kitchen. Ares had his own bowls at his house, so there was no reason for his bowls to not be there. 

“What the fuck,” he murmured as he noticed that your Keurig was no longer in the kitchen.

He was confused to say the least. He ran over to your room and there were less pillows on your bed. Your charger was not by your bedside drawer. Your computer was missing from your desk. He walked over to your closet and it was almost bare. Angel’s heart dropped. There was no way you moved. He must be in another fucking apartment. Maybe you went on a vacation or something. He couldn’t wrap his mind around you leaving without so much of a word.

“No, this is not fucking happening.” Angel wasn’t even sure what to think, all he knew was that this was a fucking nightmare and anxiety was slowly taking over his body. 

Walking out of your room, he noticed an envelope on your kitchen counter. He quickly grabbed it, ripping it open, a set of keys dropping on the counter. It was the keys to his apartment.

Opening the letter, he sank to the floor as he read it.

Angel,

I’m sorry you had to find out in this way, but I moved. Please don’t come look for me. I grabbed my stuff from your apartment, if I left anything, please just throw it away or sell it, whichever you want. Please leave my keys in the mailbox so my landlord can come collect it.

Just remember, all I want is for you to be happy and I’m glad you’ll have that with your family. I always thought that we were a fluke and you deciding to give us a chance because you didn’t want to lose our friendship, I’m grateful for that. I understand if you mistook your love for me as your friend for something more, no hard feelings. 

I will always love you, but it would be best for us to just admire one another from afar. 

You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. This isn’t on you, this is on me. I don’t deserve you and you should pursue the person you truly want to be with.

Love always, Y/N

Angel reread the letter numerous times, trying to decipher the message. Was this a cruel joke? He wasn’t fucking laughing. He crumpled the paper, refusing to believe this letter. You would talk to him, this fucking letter made no sense.

What family?

What person?

You were the only person he wanted to be with. This just made no sense to him. Who the fuck were you talking about? He’s made it clear time and time again that it was you and him from here on out. 

Did someone kidnap you? There was no fucking way, he would know. If someone kidnapped you, they would have made some noise by now. 

He took out his cellphone, dialing your number. It rang and rang, but no answer. He called you 10 times and every time, there was no answer. 

Then the thought crossed his mind, what if you left him for Gabriel?

He shook his head, that wasn’t possible. You didn’t even speak to Gabriel, there was no way you left him for another man. But the idea screamed at him at the back of his mind. 

What did your letter even mean?

Mistaking this relationship as a scheme to keep you by his side? The more he thought of the words you put in that letter, the angrier he became. He knew he did a number on you by promising to marry you when you two were older, but he always thought it was for your own good. He was going to be your last choice because you were able to experience other people and at the end you two were meant to be together. He didn’t know it would backfire so hard that you would be insecure about his feelings for you.

This was ridiculous. You weren’t going to leave him, there was no fucking way. This had to be a cruel prank. 

He fucking prayed it was a cruel prank. 

Angel got to his feet, rummaging through your apartment. He noticed that there were less things around, things you used day to day were no longer scattered around your apartment. Before Angel could even register, he left your apartment, getting on his bike and rushed to his apartment. 

Once he arrived at his apartment, he looked through his closet and drawers. As you had stated, your stuff was gone.

Angel didn’t even notice EZ was in his living room, calling out to him. EZ went inside Angel’s room and found his brother with his head in his hands, sitting down at the edge of his bed.

“Angel, you okay?”

Looking up at his younger brother, EZ saw the tears in his brother’s eyes. “She left me.” His voice cracked as he told his brother.

“What?” EZ wasn’t certain he heard correctly. 

“She fucking left me Ezekiel!” Angel shouted. “Y/N left me man,” he whispered, “she fucking left me.”

EZ watched as his brother fell apart in front of him, not believing his words. You would never leave him. You and Angel have been attached to the hip ever since you two were teenagers. With everything you’ve been through, EZ never thought you would leave him.

“There’s no way, she wouldn’t leave you.” 

Angel took out his phone again, calling you. Your voicemail was what he got once again. 

“Baby, this isn’t fucking funny. Pick up your phone, please, let’s talk. What’s going on? We can talk about this.” He pleaded before hanging up and calling you once again. Again, no answer. “Call her.” 

EZ took out his phone, calling you and much like for Angel, you didn’t answer. “Hey, you okay? Can you call me back? You have us worried here. Whatever is going on, let us help you.” He hung up, looking at Angel who was holding a letter in his hands. “She left you a letter, what did she say?”

“That we’re done.”

Angel couldn’t wrap his mind around this whole thing. What happened? He didn’t talk to you for one day and you were gone? He didn’t do anything. He knew he didn’t. You weren’t petulant enough to not speak to him just cause you two did not speak for a day.

“It makes no sense,” EZ took the letter from Angel’s hand, skimming through it. “What person? What family?” 

“I DONT FUCKING KNOW!” Angel yelled out, the situation was so fucking frustrating. “How can she fucking do this?” 

“Don’t jump to conclusions, she’ll come back. She can’t stay away from you.”

Angel nodded his head. He shouldn’t. This was going to pass, it will. He was going to call you till you got fucking tired of hearing your phone ring. Once he does, you’ll straighten it out and you’ll be back in his arms again. He didn’t even give a fuck what your reason was, he just wanted you to come back.

But you weren’t. 

You weren’t coming back.

Not this time. 

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2021 #14: in which Cameron and Joanie have some brunch

[CN: descriptions of food/prep]

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When Joanie came home in April of 1998 for her annual spring trip back to the states, Cameron had just begun her ’sabbatical.’ For much of that year, Cameron was focused on finally, fully settling in at Donna’s house (along with Licorice, who was now almost a year old) and on resting before starting work on a new game, and had taken a sudden interest in homemaking, the histories of domestic and agricultural labor, and most shockingly to Joanie, getting up in the actual morning, and at the same time every day. 

Once content to practically live in her pajamas when she wasn’t going anywhere, Cameron now got up at 9:30 on most weekdays, went downstairs and put on some coffee, made sure that the cat’s water and dry food bowls were full, and then went out to check on the garden and enjoy a few minutes of sunlight. After cereal and coffee, she would go back upstairs to do some morning journaling, which she’d been inspired to try after Donna added some collections by Mary Oliver and Emily Dickinson to their home library. Cameron didn’t think of herself as a very eloquent or even fluid writer, but she still hunkered down in the bedroom arm chair by the window and happily scribbled down notes on how she’d slept and if she’d any dreams, her plants and her on-going kitchen projects, recipes and restaurants she and Donna had tried, movies, tv shows, books, and articles she’d been looking at, Licorice’s favorite toys and treats, and conversations that she’d had with her growing circle of internet friends. And then she would shower, get dressed, and go back downstairs. Most mornings, Cameron was doing chores and searching for home and kitchen improvement projects she could do by 10:15. 

Joanie, who had only witnessed any of this because she was jetlagged for the first few days she was back in California, had gone back to staying up till 3 am and sleeping until noon as soon as she was physically able to do so. When she did finally make it downstairs, Cameron was in the kitchen, radio on, her books and notepads and mugs cluttering the island. Joanie would pour herself a large bowl of whatever cereal Cameron had purchased that week, and enjoy it in front of the tv, leaving Cameron to do her work. It was lonely, and it felt a little like being with a stranger, now that Cameron was her mother’s live-in girlfriend, and Joanie was something of a prodigal daughter, and an expatriate.

Ten days into her visit, Joanie came downstairs and found Cameron sitting at the island with some coffee. There were no books, just a large bowl of freshly rinsed grapes, and a basket of towels that were still warm from the dryer. “Want some brunch?” Cameron offered.

“Sure,” Joanie said. “I mean, yes. That would be nice.”

Cameron smiled, got up, and went around the island, into the kitchen, and to the refrigerator. Joanie sat down, and Licorice, seemingly able to sense that food was about to be prepared, trotted over from the big window that looked out on the pool, and sprang up on to the stool next to Joanie’s. She sat up on her hind legs, and looked expectantly into the kitchen.

Joanie leaned over to her. “Come here often?” When Licorice didn’t respond, Joanie nodded, “You’re right, that’s a terrible and cliché line.” 

Cameron set a mug of coffee and carton of creamer in front of Joanie, and pushed the bowl of grapes toward her, and then went back to the stove, where her favorite frying pan was warming up. 

“So my mom has like, fully domesticated you, huh?” Joanie said, reaching for the mug and the creamer.

Cameron, who was beating their eggs, shrugged gently. “It’s nice to have a home after living out of a duffel bag for your entire adult life. It seems silly, at first, but then, you realize that it isn’t.” Setting down the bowl, Cameron said, “Tell you what: in a few years when you find something more permanent, after a few more years of bouncing back and forth between cities and hostels and capsule hotels, I’ll ask you how you feel about it?”

Sipping her coffee, Joanie agreed, “Deal.” She put down her mug, and timidly, asked Cameron, “Do you ever wonder what Tori Lowman might say if she could see you playing house for real, with my mom?”

Cameron shook her head as she whisked the eggs into her now warm pan. “You’re really never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

The warmth in Cameron’s voice reminded Joanie that she was home, even if Northern California wasn’t her home anymore. “Back in Dallas,” Joanie started, “my only real friend was this girl named Heather. I think that maybe she was my Tori Loman.” 

The eggs were just starting to set, so Cameron turned down the heat, and used her favorite spatula to pull the egg mixture in, toward the center of the pan. Over her shoulder, she said, “…oh?”

Joanie sighed quietly, relieved by this endearingly momish response. “She was the only person at school that I really liked. She had long black hair, and she was a little taller than I was, and she was broader than I was too. We used to go down to this creek and ride our bikes after school. And I just, I wanted to do that every day. Like, for the rest of time.”

Cameron grinned as she laid some strips of bacon in the pan. “That sounds about right.”

“She used to take these dance classes,” Joanie continued. “I kind of hated dancing, but I wanted to sign up for her classes, until I realized that they were like, these special Native American dance classes? Her family was Apache, and they used to go to these special dance competitions and tribal events on the weekends. I wanted to go to one of them. I think if I’d asked my mom, she probably would have tried to work something out. But I never did, I was too scared?”

Still listening, and now thinking, Cameron pulled two plates out of the dishwasher. She spooned the eggs and bacon onto their plates, and then reached for the english muffin halves she’d toasted, and placed them carefully on the side. She picked up the plates, turned back to Joanie, and placed them down on the island. She rested her hands on the island, and then, shrewdly, said, “You were afraid that you’d have fun, and that your crush on her would get worse. Or harder to ignore?”

Joanie couldn’t believe what a relief it was to hear someone else say it, get it.

Licorice, front paws on the counter, strained to get nearer to the plates. “No, you already ate,” Cameron said. She grabbed a grape from the bowl and rolled it toward Licorice, who was transfixed. She batted it off the table, and jumped down to the floor to play with it. Crisis averted, Cameron grabbed some forks from the drawer, and then went around the island, handed Joanie a fork, and sat down next to her, taking Licorice’s seat.

Joanie picked up half of her english muffin and took a large bite out of it. She chewed thoughtfully, and then picked up her fork. She swallowed, and then said, “Heather seemed all well-behaved and agreeable, but she wasn’t really. She had a bb gun, and she would practice shooting at guns and bottles, and she wanted to learn archery, and how to throw knives. She liked Heart and Led Zeppelin, they were her dad and her mom’s favorite bands. She had older brothers, and she knew all these dirty jokes because of them and she would tell them and I would always laugh at them even though we didn’t really know what they meant? She also liked to steal her brothers’ clothes and wear them when we rode bikes. And she would make me race her even when I said I didn’t feel like it, and she would chase bullies, and she would be mean to them. Like, really mean. And she would curse them, like she would say she was putting an ‘Indian curse’ on them.” She paused to eat some of her food, which must have been getting cold, and then finally, she said, “I wish I’d tried to talk to her after we moved to California. I figured we’d never talk again, and I thought that maybe that would be better. I should’ve at least tried to be her pen pal though, or something.”

Cameron, who had finished most of her brunch while listening to Joanie, picked up her mug and drank some of her coffee. And then, she said, “Tori Loman had curly, frizzy black hair that she would say she didn’t like, but I never thought there was anything wrong with it. I liked it. She liked arts and crafts and coloring and making snacks with her mom. Her favorite snack was hot chocolate and cinnamon sugar toast. I wish I could be pen pals or something with her, too,” she said, before taking another sip of her coffee. 

Joanie ate the last of her eggs and bacon, and then she said, “When I first moved to Thailand, I met this girl named Sawyer, at the hostel. But I didn’t see her for a while, so we didn’t get a chance to really talk, but then one day I went out with this guy I had met, an Italian, from Florence, who turned out to be pushy and annoying and he followed me to my room and he kept trying to get me to invite him into my room even though I told him I was ready to go to bed, and Sawyer came out into the hallway and started, like, hassling him? Mostly in English but then she was shouting him down in Italian? And she finally got him to leave, and then we started talking. I asked her if she spoke Italian and she said no, but that ‘You’re bothering her, leave her alone’ is one of the first things she learns how to say whenever she goes anywhere, and that she knows how to say it in like, eight different languages?” Smiling broadly, Joanie finished, “And that was kind of just that. We’ve been partners in crime ever since. She was always going on day trips and weekend trips to different cities and islands outside of Bangkok, and she would invite me every time, and I would go with her as often as I could. We would try to rent bikes wherever we went, when we could. And after a while it felt like, I could do that for the rest of time. With her.” 

Cameron leaned back in her chair. “In romcoms, they call that a ‘meet cute’.” 

Joanie blushed. “Since when do you watch romcoms?”

“I don’t! But that’s what I’ve heard, I saw something about it on an internet message board,” Cameron said quickly. She picked up her plate, and then took Joanie’s, and walked them over to the kitchen counter near the dishwasher. She grabbed the coffee pot, and returned to her mug to refill it. “So is Sawyer…does she have a Tori Loman in her past, somewhere?”

Joanie pushed her mug toward Cameron’s, and as she added the rest of the coffee to it, Joanie said, “If I understand correctly, she has a few Tori Lomans.”

“Ah. I see,” Cameron said. She returned the pot to the coffee maker, and then went back to her seat. 

Staring down into her coffee, Joanie said, “I miss her. I’m glad I’m here. Like, really glad I’m here. Not everyone I’ve met has a home to go back to, you know? I wish that she could be here, though. I wish you and mom could meet her.”

Cameron cackled. “Your mother would lose her mind if you brought someone, anyone home for her to meet, Jesus. It’d be like the holidays, when she gets that vibe like she’s planning some kind of tactical land invasion, it would be peak Donna Emerson.” Tapping her mug excitedly with a nail, Cameron grinned, “It will drive me nuts. I can’t wait.” 

Slouching in her seat, Joanie sighed, “I feel like you’ll probably be waiting for a while. I feel like she would like to, but I can’t imagine it working out.” Joanie started to fiddle idly with her hair, wrapping the ends of it around her finger, and unwinding it. “Our lives are just like, so far removed from everything here? Which, that’s kind of the point, it’s okay. But she’s like, really different, about home. Or ‘home,’ or whatever,” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. “I’m waiting to go home, but like, in a good way, if that makes sense? I’m know I’m not supposed to yet, but I look for signs, and I know it will happen eventually. I’ll figure out what I’m supposed to do, and someday I’ll figure out how to do that here. But I don’t think Sawyer thinks that way, she’s always looking for the next adventure. Which is why I love her. But I don’t think she’ll see coming here as an adventure.”

Gently, Cameron said, “Joanie….” She kicked the foot of her stool playfully. “When I was living in Japan, do you ever think I felt like I’d wind up here? With you mom?”

“Probably not, I guess,” Joanie said, smiling tentatively.

“We dwell in possibility,” Cameron said, getting up and out of her seat again as she paraphrased Emily Dickinson. “Come on, let’s go find something fun to do,” she grabbed her mug.”You can tell me more about Sawyer, which I can use to make fun of you whenever you bring up Tori Loman.”

Joanie thought about arguing, but then she got up, grabbed her coffee, and followed Cameron. 

[themarveledwriter]

By the Light of the Moon~Part 2

Story Summery: Y/n is a vampire hasn’t told anyone about herself, her family, her history. She hasn’t even told her boyfriend. What happens when her secret is revealed in a violent manner.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Vampire!Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Angst, Sadness, Sorta asshole Steve (but his hearts in the right place), Cursing.

A/N: Here is the second part! Next part should be up soon! Not beta read.

She was gone. 

Just gone.

The window completely shattered, she didn’t even slow down. 

Everyone was stunned, Bucky wasn’t sure what to do. He knew he couldn’t go after her, she ran across the walkway and out the door before Bucky could even blink. 

Steve came out of it the fastest, “FRIDAY lock down the building.” This made me swing around to look at him, furious with what he was doing. 

“Are you still trying to stop her!? She doesn’t want to be here Steve! You pushed her to the edge and now she is gone!” Bucky says while walking towards Steve, shoving him with his last word. 

“Captain Rogers, Y/n is no longer in the building.” The AI says. 

Steve turned away from Bucky, “How did she get out?” 

“She exited from the roof.” Bucky was the one to talk this time, “What? How did she exit from the roof?” “She jumped.” Klaus said before the AI. Both Bucky and Steve turn around to Klaus, “What do you mean she jumped? This building is 93 stories!” Bucky said, panicked.

Klaus smirked, “She’s an original vampire. She could jump off a cliff and be fine, in fact she has.”

This confused Bucky, “Original vampire?”

Klaus tilted his head, and the smirk fell from his lips. “She really didn’t tell you anything did she?” Resulting in Bucky shaking his head. 

“Well, is there somewhere we can sit? It is a long story.”

Steve takes the lead on this, feeling more comfortable with having a purpose. “We can go to the common room. FRIDAY call the team down there.” Steve turns to Bucky, “I think this is something everyone should know.”

~

~

~

The entire team is already in the common room by the time Bucky, Steve and Klaus get down there. 

When the elevator doors open everyone stands up, Sam being the first to talk.

“Who is this? Where is Y/n?”

Steve goes to answer but Klaus talks first, “I’m Klaus Mikaelson, Y/n is my sister. She’s gone.”

This time it’s Natasha’s turn to talk, “What do you mean she’s gone?” She says, worried for her friend. 

Klaus steps forward, taking an empty chair, but no one else sits down. 

“Well? Go on, sit. It’s a rather long story and I doubt you’ll want to stand the whole time.” Everyone slowly takes their seats, Bucky sitting next to Sam who lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. Him and Bucky may have their differences but Sam can tell when his friend is hurting. 

“Alright, lets begin.” Klaus says with a smirk.

“So, as you all learned earlier, my sister is a vampire. What you didn’t know is that she is one of the first vampires in existence, along with me and our siblings. See, my mother was a witch, a powerful witch though not as powerful as her sister. My mother was barren, and made a deal with my Aunt Dahlia to be able to have children, she just had to give her first born to Dahlia. So she gave up my sister Freya and told her husband she had died from the plague. My mother had another child named Finn before they came to the New World in the 10th century when my mother was pregnant with my brother Elijah. They settled in a village where everyone was healthy and happy, we didn’t know that they were all werewolves till later, though we lived with them peacefully for years.”

 Klaus stops at this, taking a breath before continuing. “I was born next, but I was born out of an affair between my mother and another villager. I wouldn’t know that until after I became a vampire. Kol came next, and then Rebecka. Lastly my mother fell pregnant with twins, Henrik and Y/n.” 

Sam talks before Klaus can continue, “Y/n has a twin?”

Klaus looks down with a sad expression on his face.

“Not anymore… I was incredibly close to Henrik and Y/n, closer than to anyone else in my family. They were the youngest out of all of us and I was always more protective of them.” Klaus looks up at the group. “Henrik and Y/n were only 13 at this time… After we had discovered the people who lived around us became beasts on the night of a full moon, I became curious. I had planned to sneak out and watch them transform, which was forbidden, and when Henrik found out he wanted to come as well. Of course, Y/n being his twin came too. One of the wolves lost control, mauling Henrik. Y/n almost died as well, but was able to run from the wolf that was attacking her. Henrik died that night, from my ignorance and stupidity. It was also the night our mother decided to turn us into vampires.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to speak up, “But Y/n doesn’t look like she is 13, how old was she when she turned?”

Klaus looked at him, “Our mother performed a ritual on all of us, including Y/n, to make us stronger. She wanted to protect us. My mother's witch friend Ayana refused to do the spell, but she did make it so that Y/n would continue to age until her 18th birthday.”

“The spell made us powerful. It made us fast, strong, it gave us fangs to rival the wolves, but it also turned nature against us. The sun burned us, the neighbors that had once welcomed us into their homes could now keep us out, the flowers at the base of the tree that was used in the spell burned us and prevented compulsion,” Klaus turns to Bucky. “That’s the ‘protection’ that Y/n mentioned earlier. Do you have a bracelet or necklace that she gave you?”

Bucky was already fidgeting with the necklace Y/n had given him for their one year anniversary. It was a habit he formed after she gave it to him. A pendant with his star on it, on the back engraved in her handwriting is “You are my hero”. She said it was to remind him that his arm didn’t make him a monster. 

“Yeah, this one.” Bucky says, not letting go of the necklace.

Klaus holds out his hand, “Can I see it?” 

Bucky is hesitant, but ultimately agrees. Standing up and handing the pendant to Klaus, who’s skin starts smoking the second it touches his skin. 

“Woah, what the hell?” Bucky says, taking back the necklace. 

Klaus smirks, “Like I said, vervain burns… The only thing that can kill us is a stake made from the tree that gave us life. The white oak… Like I said, werewolf venom won’t kill original vampires. I just had no desire for my sister to be in pain until it burned out of her system. I also haven’t seen her in years, I missed her.”

“When we became vampires, Y/n was the last to turn. She was so so young and killed the person that our parents used to complete the transition. She hated herself for so long after, and has always struggled with her bloodlust… When I killed my first human not long after my transition we learned that I was part werewolf. A hybrid, but my mother suppressed my wolf side. It was only recently that I was able to unlock it, which is why I can heal a werewolf bite. A normal vampire would die from a bite without my blood.”

Steve took this time to ask Klaus, “Y/n was drinking Bucky’s blood. Is he going to turn into a vampire?” This made Klaus chuckle, “No. You would have to die with vampire blood in your system and then drink human blood to complete the transition. But vampire blood also has healing qualities, if given to a human with a fatal injury they will heal within minutes.”

Klaus stood up, “I’m going to find my sisters storage unit, is there a room I can stay in tonight?”

Tony tells him where he can stay for the night, but when he turns to leave, Bucky runs after him. 

“Wait! Are we not going to look for Y/n?”

Klaus turns around, a small smile on his face. “It’s nice to know my sister has someone who cares so strongly for her, but looking for her right now is useless. If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be. I just hope what happened earlier doesn’t push her over the edge. She has gotten better at controlling her bloodlust but when she’s incredibly emotional she tends to struggle. We will know by morning.” This concerned Bucky. “What happens if she loses control?”

Klaus frowns at this, “Well, she will probably kill some people. That’ll cause her to have really bad guilt. If that happens I will need your help to make sure she doesn’t flip her switch.”

“What do you mean flip her switch?

“Oh I forgot about that. Vampires have this… ability. Our emotions are heightened, if the guilt or sadness gets too bad, we can turn off our humanity. It’s like this switch that we can flip. It’s incredibly hard to get someone who’s flipped their switch to turn it back on. We can’t let Y/n do that.”

That scares Bucky, “Has she done that before?”

Klaus nods, “She was the first one to do so… I feel like I should let her tell you the whole story but basically what happened was she accidentally killed someone she cared very much about. I believe that was why she was so scared when she fed from you. That person was her main form of sustenance but they were attacked by a hunter, she was severely weakened with vervain and he was seriously injured. She couldn’t control her bloodlust and he ended up dying.” This broke Bucky’s heart. He never wanted to see Y/n in pain. 

“She couldn’t take the pain and the guilt. It was killing her. She wanted to die but couldn’t find a way. She somehow found out she could turn it all off. It took me decades to get her to turn it back on. She left a string of bodies from New Orleans to Los Angeles. When she turned it back on she had all that guilt as well. Everytime she has turned it off it has always been worse when she turns it back on.

Bucky felt more comfortable now. It helped him to have orders, a mission. While Klaus isn’t technically in charge of him, he knew Y/n better than Bucky. Bucky could do what Klaus asked, or at least try. He wouldn’t lose Y/n.

“I am going to find Y/n’s storage unit. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is by any chance?” 

Bucky knew she had a storage unit near the tower, but he had never been to it. 

“I think it’s at Manhattan Mini Storage, it’s near Hell’s Kitchen.”

Klaus nods, “Alright, I’ll be back tonight.” 

He walks onto the elevator, leaving Bucky standing in the hallway.

~ ~ ~

Bucky was sitting in your room, it was almost bare because you have been slowly sneaking your stuff into Bucky’s room. 

But it still smells like you. 

He couldn’t believe he never noticed anything. Now that he knows he realizes there were many strange things that he always ignored. 

That ring you claimed you hated but would never take off. The time you lost it and refused to leave the tower, not even going into the common room. The fact you wouldn’t go into someone’s house before being invited in. You wouldn’t even go into Bucky’s room before he told you you could. 

He always thought it was because you didn’t want to spend that much time with him, that it was too personal. You had already been spending time with each other for a few weeks prior and he thought he had crossed a line. 

Apparently not. 

~Flashback~

Bucky had just arrived at the compound after his time in Wakanda. He was a lot more confident knowing the Soldier could no longer be triggered, but he still wouldn’t be the first to approach someone. 

Y/n watched him around the compound, fascinated by the other man out of time. Her and Steve had been friends for years, and she had helped him and Sam in Romania. 

When he arrived at the compound, she was one of the only people to truly try and make him feel welcome. No one was out right rude to him, but they weren’t exactly welcoming.  Only Steve, Y/n and Nat would ask him to join them for supper or training. 

But Y/n went above and beyond for him. 

She would leave food by his door when he didn’t eat with the team. She defended him when Tony would say something.

The thing he appreciated most was the time she helped him through a panic attack.

It was when he was on trial, there was no way he would be convicted with all the Avengers behind him, but it still took a toll on his mental state. 

People were able to find his files, and after the public found out how many people he killed a lot rallied against him. Calling for the death penalty.

Tony had a party after the trial was over. Inviting all the New York socialites and having Bucky as the “guest of honor” to prove that he was one of the good guys now. But all he could hear the entire night was people saying how they couldn’t believe Tony let the man who killed his parents on the team. A monster.

He was pushed close to the edge when a drunk man started asking him all these questions and accusing him of things he never did. 

He was pushed over the edge when he started talking about his family. Claiming his ma and sisters would hate him for the monster he became. He was hyperventilating and about to lash out. Looking around for Steve or someone who could help him. 

That’s when Y/n swooped in like a guardian angel. 

The media loved Y/n, she was always helping people. Visiting children's hospitals and helping the homeless. 

Which is why they didn’t care when she threw the man across the room. 

She walked right between Bucky and the drunk man, telling him to back off. Bucky couldn’t understand much of what she was saying, he was too busy trying to not shut down, but the last thing he heard was the man call him a monster before Y/n had shoved him so hard he flew across the room. 

She had always claimed she was a mutant. That was why she was so strong and fast, why she healed faster than him or Steve. 

Next thing he knew she was leading him out of the party, arms linked. 

He was gasping for breath at this point, not really noticing she was moving him until his back hit the couch. They were in a smaller common room at the tower, used as a sort of library. Bucky knew this was Y/n’s favorite room in the tower because there were days he wouldn't see her until she emerged from the library at midnight, walking into the kitchen wrapped in a fluffy blanket looking incredibly relaxed.

Not that he was looking for you. 

“-ucky. You are okay. Match my breathing okay? You are just fine.” You were pressing his hand to her chest, her hand on top of his. 

It's the first time they touched.

Well not the first time, they’ve trained together. Brushed shoulders in passing. 

But she was purposely touching him, comforting him. 

His breathing slowed down, and he was shocked when your arms were suddenly around his shoulders.

“I’m so so sorry he said those things to you.” 

Your voice sounded watery, which made him push on your shoulders to see your face. Which made you panic. 

“I-I’m so sorry Bucky. I know you don’t like to be touched. I should have asked before I hugged you. I was just so mad that he said those things to you!” You were aggressively wiping the tears from your face. “He had no right! He doesn’t know what you went through and the fact that he was accusing you of things you never even did! I’m so-” Bucky was smiling at this point. 

“Doll, you’re rambling.”

That shut you up really quick. 

A small smile slowly appeared on your face, confusing Bucky.

“Doll? You called me doll?”

“Uh… Yeah, I guess I did.” Your smile grew larger. “And don’t feel bad for hugging me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah I… I liked it.”

“Then why did you push me away?” Y/n says, tilting her head to one side. Making Bucky think of a confused puppy.

“I heard you crying doll. You should never cry over me.” At this she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around him, snuggling her face into his neck. “Everyone needs someone to cry over them sometimes.”

~End Flashback~

When Bucky came out of his mind, the sun was already rising. He quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen down his cheeks. 

He didn’t realize so much time had passed, and couldn’t help but wonder where Y/n was. 

Was she even in New York still?

Bucky laid back, grabbing one of Y/n’s pillows and hugging it to his body, breathing deeply. 

He was dozing off, comforted by the smell of you, when FRIDAY jolted him awake.

“Sergeant Barnes, Mr. Mikaelson is back and requesting your presence in the kitchen. The rest of the Avengers are already on their way.”

Bucky jumped up quickly, needing to know if Klaus found anything, when he your favorite of his hoodies in your closet. He quickly grabs it and throws it on, comforted by the fact it smelled like you. 

He made his way down to the kitchen as fast as he could, practically running once the elevator stopped.

When he made his way into the kitchen he noticed the rest of the Avengers were already there. Klaus was standing at the island with a canvas bag sitting in front of him. 

Steve was the first to speak, “Why’d you call us all down here? Have you heard anything?” 

Klaus looks at him, and then at Bucky. “I went to my sister’s storage unit. While I was there I got a call from my sister Freya-”

Natasha cuts him off. “I thought you said your mom gave her to your aunt in the 10th century?”

Klaus smirks, “You pay attention, nice. Incredibly long story short, my aunt discovered how to practically make herself and Freya immortal by sleeping for 100 years and then living and aging for only a year.”

“Anyway, Freya called me. She said that there were some ‘animal attacks’ on the outskirts of the town. I’m going there tonight, James is coming with me.” 

Klaus started gathering the bag, but Steve puts his hand over it, stopping him. 

“Bucky isn’t going anywhere with you, how do we know we can trust you.” Bucky was about to object, but Klaus started first. His face blank.

This is my sister!” Klaus says, getting angry as he said it. 

“I would not do anything to risk her. I agree, you don’t know me and have no clue if you can trust me, but I will help my sister no matter what. I need James to help me with that.”

“Why does Bucky need t-”

Steve is suddenly pushed against the wall, Klaus baring his fangs at him. 

“He may be the only one who can keep her from losing her humanity. He is coming with me.

Steve goes to object, but Bucky stops him. “Steve, that’s my girl. I am going with him.”

“Buck-”

“Stop. You are the one that pushed her over the edge. I will not lose her”

He turns back to Klaus, who looks overly smug.

“Is there anything you need before we go?”

Klaus nods at this, “I need a cooler, and you should pack for at least a week… Maybe longer. We will also need a car.” He says, looking at Tony.

Tony speaks for the first time, telling FRIDAY to ready a car and make sure it has a cooler in it. 

“Why do you need a cooler?”

Klaus walks back over to the canvas bag on the counter, unzipping it. 

“Well, I went and collected some things from Y/n’s storage unit. Let’s just say, it’s a tad perishable.”

With that he turns the bag over, ten blood bags spilling out.

“What the hell is that!?” Clint says, “Well, I know what they are… I’m in the medbay enough to know that, but why do you have them?”

Klaus looks at him, “Take a wild guess.”

He looks at Bucky, “She’s feeding on people, we need to get her back on blood bags as soon as possible. She may not be a ripper but she is in such an emotional state that we don’t need to risk her seriously hurting someone.” He finishes with a pointed look at Steve. 

“Sir, the car is prepped.”

Klaus looks at Bucky. 

“Go pack, we have a long drive ahead of us.”

Taglist (Open):

@tranquility-or-chaos​ @21st-century-daydreamer​ @winterboobear11​ @theycallmemrsbarnes​ @notawritergettingtherethough​

[the-final-sif]

interview about writing processes

Hey Lady Sif,

thank you for taking time for us and agreeing to answer our interview questions.

Since this was of short notice we decided to change the deadline to June 19.

We hope the time frame suits you.

Here are our questions:

Can you shortly describe us your writing history? How did you start off? How did you come across fanfiction?

Do you have a writing philosophy that helps you overcome challenges in writing?

Could you describe your writing environment? (workplace, prefered writing tools, fandom discourse, discourse with friends)

What inspires you to write and post in and for a fandom? What triggers your headcanons? Does your educational background influence your writing?

In how far does your fandom experience influence your writing?

In how far do you work with others to create fan content? And what ideas do you integrate in your writing?

Are there certain steps you take/decisions you make when/before responding to a post/prompt?

When and why did you decide to host writing events like your fake fics event? What was the purpose and how did you approach the title prompts?

How would you describe the difference between writing alone and writing spontaneously with others (first in creating fan theories and headcanons and second in creating fanfiction)?

Do you think knowing that others read and can comment on your texts subconsciously influences your writing?

What motivated you to create a story where your readers can decide for an ending (name)?

Is there anything else you consider important in your writing process that you would like to tell us?

Thanks again for your time and effort, we are very much looking forward to your answers!

If you’re interested we’ll keep you updated on our findings.

Kind regards, Dana and Helena

----

Can you shortly describe us your writing history? How did you start off? How did you come across fanfiction?

I started writing when I was very young! I was a huge reader, and even before I was writing stuff down I was a storyteller. It’s a really important part of my family & how we communicate with each others and others.

My first experience with fanfiction was when I was,, 7 or 8? That sounds about right. I hand wrote a fanfiction called “ShoppingCats” which something between warrior cats and Cats vs Dogs, but also made primarily of my OCs (+ a handful of warriors characters I liked). I still have most of it, it’s sitting in my desk drawer in it’s original binder, since my mother saved it.

I came across fandom spaces / online fanfiction in 2012 with fanfiction.net, and published my first fanfiction in 2013 (under Rosae-Sif on fanfiction.net). I’ve taken breaks as my interests changed & life got chaotic, but I’ve always enjoyed retelling stories that I hear and changing them to suit me more / explore new themes, so I’ve stuck with it after all this time.

Do you have a writing philosophy that helps you overcome challenges in writing?

Yes! I write for myself above all else. It’s fun to write stuff for other people sometimes, and I like getting feedback and what not, but I never let that be the focus of my writing. I always try to write what I want to be reading, so when I go back and reread what I’ve written, more often than not I find I’ve produced something that makes me happy, and that helps keep me going when a lot of other things couldn’t.

Could you describe your writing environment? (workplace, prefered writing tools, fandom discourse, discourse with friends)

Uhhh, I don’t really have any one set thing. I mostly write on my laptop, sometimes I use a notebook + pen. I have 5$ fountain pen that I got that I really love when I have writer’s block.

I think the most consistent “workplace” for me is actually discord/my friends. Almost all of my AUs/fics/ideas start as me storytelling (either typing things out or out loud) to someone else. That’s where the spark comes from, and then that slowly is refined through several iterations until I have something I like. 

I really like taking long walks with headphones & nobody else around. That’s when a lot of the very early forms of my favorite ideas come to me. It’s a key part of my writing process the few times I get stuck on stuff too. I just go walk till I figure it out.

I don’t really get involved in discourse much. I like debating people, but I try to stay away from destructive stuff and just have my own fun corner where I create things. I’m in fandom for fun, and I refuse to let me experience be tainted by people who try to turn it into Discourse Central.

What inspires you to write and post in and for a fandom? What triggers your headcanons? Does your educational background influence your writing?

As I mentioned before, I write and post primarily for myself! I have a lot of ideas in my head all the time, and things I want to see, so I create those things and then put them here. It’s fun when other people interact with me + add onto my ideas + create things in response!

My headcanons are usually just kinda,,,, coming out of my brain. I think it’s just how I am. I have a question or a thought and I start looking into it and before I know it, a whole new thing has come out of it.

I think my family actually influenced a lot of my writing style more than anything else. I mean, I was homeschooled for a long time, and my parents were very encouraging of whatever weird projects I was creating (my dad once even let me cut down and drag actual brambles into the basement to create a warriors style fort). I was allowed to dress however I wanted (during high school I worn nothing but PJ pants b/c they were most comfy for me, and also I had/have several capes that I would rotate through), I was allowed to dye my hair (still do! it’s current a side shave in red + purple + blue!), and I was encouraged to just,,, be weird and happy. I think that shows in how I write. I pursue the ideas I want to go after, I indulge myself, I commit to thinks and I focus more on what I want to write rather than what I feel I should write.

That being said, a lot of science nerding that comes out in my writing is def from my educational background. I’ve got a bachelors and stuff. I did take some writing classes, but to be honest, I think my fanfiction experience influenced those a lot more than they influenced my fanfiction (years and years of writing constantly and quickly paid off in college where I would BS papers the night before and get top marks on it).

In how far does your fandom experience influence your writing?

Hmm, I don’t think it does that much? I mean, for the BNHA fandom in particular, I think that seeing all the cool content + ideas other people create really keeps my brain chugging along and creating new things, and god, having seen people make fanart and fanfiction for my stories has been one of the best feelings I’ve ever experienced, but I don’t think that’s really changed how I’m writing.

At my core, I’m still doing the same thing my 8 year old self was doing with her pencil and that binder full of paper. I take the strange thoughts out of my head, and I follow them onto the paper until I create something that makes me happy.

I’ve had some negative experiences of course. I mean, everyone does. They’ve all been fairly minor, mostly just people trying to tell me I’m wrong about stuff that’s either in an AU that’s already not supposed to be canon, or stuff I’m right about. Most of the time it’s just annoying. Sometimes it’s concerning. I ignore or delete the annoying stuff, I don’t want to give it any of my time or attention. 

The concerning stuff I try to reply to. It’s been rare, but sometimes I get comments on certain fics trying to tell me what’s being depicted in my fic isn’t abusive when it absolutely is. I try to correct that and link to resources when I do get that. I usually don’t get a reply, but a few times I’ve had people realize that what they thought was normal was actually abusive behavior. I’m happy that I’m able to help people come to that realization.

In how far do you work with others to create fan content? And what ideas do you integrate in your writing?

Hmmm, I’ll be honest, I’m not quite sure how to answer this one. I don’t exactly work with others when creating my fan content? All of my writing (save one RP collab homestuck fic from ages ago) is done by me exclusively, and most my ideas are also mostly from my own brain. Although I will say one exception to that is @windschildfanfictionwriter​ whose an amazing bnha writer I chat with fairly frequently when I need help figuring something out.

It’s less of “working” with people, and more discussing things/ideas, and being excited about stuff. Sometimes literally all I need is someone to be my rubber duck while I talk about an idea for 2-3 hours to get it solidified. People in my discord server often help me by betaing (editing/reviewing) my wips. My adhd means I often make weird mistakes, and they’re wonderful at helping me catch that.

As for ideas I pull into my writing, it’s hard to pick out specific ones. I think I kinda create + absorb + integrate lots of stuff at once. A lot of the times my ideas don’t come from things other authors write, but instead come from things other authors didn’t write. When I see an thought/idea/thread in a story that isn’t followed up on, or isn’t handled how I think it should be handled, that often inspires me to either use a similar base concept or similar thought but in the way I wish it had been done.

Are there certain steps you take/decisions you make when/before responding to a post/prompt?

Not really? I tend to just go with whatever comes to me or what I already had prepared. I’m rather impulsive, so unless it’s a delicate subject matter, I roll with whatever’s going on.

I do always make myself take a step back before responding to stuff that annoys me/any sort of anon hate. I have to remind myself it’s not worth the effort and I should focus on positive/fun stuff. I’ll admit though, I have a very combative nature that can get the better of me sometimes. I’ve gotten better at that though! Hooray for proper adhd medication to help prevent destructive stimulus seeking behavior and therapy! Although I do still like to debate stuff for fun, I just don’t let myself get hostile about it.

When and why did you decide to host writing events like your fake fics event? What was the purpose and how did you approach the title prompts?

Oh, I just saw the post and thought it looked fun so I reblogged it. Stuff like that is mostly an impulse more than anything else.

I just kinda went with the flow for the titles. God, I got so many of those, I still have a lot of them sitting in my inbox, most of which I probably won’t ever post. For the ones I did do though, I picked ones that sounded like fic titles I would actually use, and then asked myself what sort of story I would use that title for. Then I just kinda wrote whatever came to me.

How would you describe the difference between writing alone and writing spontaneously with others (first in creating fan theories and headcanons and second in creating fanfiction)?

Hmmm. This one is also a bit hard. It’s rare I truly “write alone”, most of my stories start as a form of oral storytelling and then are adapted to “proper” writing. Most of my theories/headcanons start the same way.

You’ll notice a lot of my posts start with “Also” “Okay” or “I’ve been thinking” or “You know”. When I’m writing my headcanon/theory posts, it’s all written very conversationally because I’m still following my family’s storytelling in a way. It’s a public post, but I’m not just making statements to a void. I’m still talking to people, addressing them, leading them through stuff. It’s just how I communicate on a very fundamental leave.

I’m still writing for myself, I’m creating for myself, but I’m doing it with others. I’m telling a story constantly, and sometimes I’m telling that story to myself, but I’m still telling it to someone.

I think you can read that in my fics, with the perspective I tend to use. I use limited third person POV, but when I’m writing, I try to write it how the character I’m writing from the POV of would tell their own story. I’m not just describing what’s happening, I’m letting this character tell their story through their own voice, to others, to me. It’s a core part of my writing, and that makes it hard to say that it was ever really written alone.

Do you think knowing that others read and can comment on your texts subconsciously influences your writing?

I mean, it’d be impossible for it not to. But I don’t think it influences me that much. I’m still writing for myself most of the time, and I hold onto my bullshit tightly. I don’t change my writing based on what I think other people want to see from me.

That being said, it’s still something I think about. It’s more of a conscious choice, but specifically regarding my stories that have abuse in them, I try to connect in elements of realism and common underrepresented traits/habits of abuse (which I do try to check via research when I can) and ensure that they are then called out as what they are. I’ve gotten a number of comments/asks/discord messages from people telling me that my works helped them realize they were in a crappy situation / understand what they were going through, and that’s something that’s important for me.

I think The Green Eyed Monster is an example of that, where I explore platonic stalking/obsession/pressuring. It’s something I don’t see taken seriously often enough, so I wanted to frame it in a serious but realistic light and make it clear that what was happening was wrong and harmful. I wanted to explore this concept, but I purposefully did it in a way that I hoped would help others who might’ve dealt with it on some level understand it for what it was, and I think it really shows. In the comments of that fic, there’s a lot of very personal responses/stories from people who went through similar experiences. I think that’s important, so it’s something I try to do when I can.

The other thing is I do 100% put references/lines in certain stories with an evil grin on my face knowing that a certain handful of my commenters are going to rip their hair out over it, either because they have no idea what I mean by it, or they know exactly what I mean by it. But hey, I’m a hurt/comfort writer at heart, so you can hardly blame me.

What motivated you to create a story where your readers can decide for an ending (name)?

Oh, uh, “Seven Year Old Katsuki Has The Ability To Kill A Grown Man And No Concept Of Legality”.

I actually can’t remember the exact inspiration for this one? I think I saw uhhh, Markiplier, playing a text adventure game, and I got curious about creating something similar.

I considered using a platform meant for text based games, but true to my family’s long history of needlessly complicating things and creating things where they aren’t meant to be created out of some mix of spite and creative hubris, I decided I wanted to make it on A03 instead. I looked up a style formatting guide, and went to work.

That whole project took like 1-2 months, around school work and everything else. It was created entirely using links that sent you to the next page. That’s it. That’s the only ‘code’ functionality I had to work with. So I made a whole paper map of the routes, separating them out into “steps” and then created unique text blocks for each step based on prior choices. I used a secret point system for one of the main routes, and ended up with 97 unique steps, and 155 different text blocks/variations.

Fun project. A03 was having some trouble/going down right after I released it, and to this day, certain members of the discord server still blame me for that as I was forcing the website into bullshit it was not meant to contain.

Is there anything else you consider important in your writing process that you would like to tell us?

Nothing I can think of off the top of my head. Other than maybe I have an African Gray named Cecil, and sometimes when I’m not ready to share an idea with humans, I’ll talk it out with him first. He’s an excellent listener sometimes, and by that I mean he’s usually ignoring me or I’m giving him scratches and he’s not paying my rambling any mind.

Though sometimes I get lucky and when I finish up a point and ask for his opinion, he’ll just look at me for a moment and say “I love you.” He does it because I’ll always cave and give him treats since I’m weak for him, but it still makes me smile.

[lustresky]

awmd ; prolouge ; your love will cling to me through the lonely daytime

auf wiederseh’n, my dear masterlist & lily’s lil’ stories

Satisfaction runs through your veins as you hear the loud thwap, your bullet cleanly and perfectly hitting the tiny dot marked on the paper dangling itself a few feet in front of you.

You lower your dominant arm, stance straightening out as a clank of a metal shell rings against the cement floor. The words of your father about safety echo in your mind and make you double check your firearm before doing anything else. A series of clicks and clacks follow your every movement, making sure that everything is safe.

Once you’ve fully inspected your weapon, you turn your body around to place the arm back to its rightful position; but before you can do so, your father halts you in your tracks.

Panic and fear bubbles up in your chest.

Oh no.

He wasn’t supposed to be back till 2!

He motions for you to take off your muffs, lips in a tight line and eyebrows straight.

As your hands follow his instructions, your eyes follow his gaze up to your marked piece of paper. You follow his every move as he trudges along to where the pulley sat. He wheels the piece of paper back to where you both were standing with his own hands, calloused and littered with nicks and scars.

You can’t help but lower your head down in shame.

I’m definitely going to get in trouble…

A pause as he examines your damage— a million thoughts wrapped in anxiety running through your head, the empty silence of the shooting range deafening against your eardrums.

Suddenly, he lets out a small chuckle.

You look up, and to your surprise, you see his once strict and pointed expression soften.

He whistles proudly, a smile on his lips. “My lil’ girl’s gone and became better than her dad, didn’t she?”

Your cheeks heat up from his praise, but despite it, you can’t help but ask, “You ain’t mad, pa?”

He laughs and pats you on your shoulder, the weight of his hand a reassuring pressure. “Sweetheart, I ain’t ever seen such a clean shot like this— not even from the men that I’ve been teachin’ for the last five years!”

You giggle at his words.

Your father sets a hand on his hip, a big smile on his face. He shakes his head.

“You’ve got a future ahead of ya, sweetheart.”

That was the first time that you’ve ever fired a pistol.

You were fourteen, raised by a strict yet caring father who served in the Great War and a nosy yet loving mother who was determined to have you betrothed as soon as you were eighteen.

Your father ran a shooting range, a place to continue practicing the talent he had honed during his service as a sharpshooter. Never once did he let you fire before that time; but you had mentally practiced and memorized all of the little techniques that he did as he fired every shot.

Whenever you had time, you would tune in to what he would say to his students, sitting all by yourself a few meters away, books and pencils strewn about on a small table under the guise of studying.

You definitely weren’t taking notes on grammar, most times.

Until you had showcased your natural talent at shooting, they were strict and disciplined and apprehensive of every single decision that you made for yourself. You knew it was only because of their concern, but as soon as they saw how much of a second nature it was for you to defend yourself, they mellowed out. Of course, your family wasn’t perfect— your parents had their disputes and disagreements like any other couple, though you knew deep down that they really only wanted the best for you. As an only child and as a woman, no less, their concern for your safety and well-being was and always has been the first priority in their mind.

Times were tough, and it didn’t seem like they were getting any easier, either.

What with all the stories you’ve heard about Germany attacking Poland in Europe, there’s been a constant blanket of unease in the community.

You truly couldn’t wrap your head around it. Aren’t people sick of fighting? Though the turmoil has provided your range with more people wanting to learn and subsequently more money, the whole thing didn’t exactly help you sleep at night.

Who knows how this whole thing will play out?

You shake your head, reminding yourself of your mother’s mantra.

Focus on the now; you can worry about the future later.

Cracking your neck, a small noise of satisfaction slips past your lips as the tension alleviates. The afternoon’s sun’s rays were slowly dissipating beyond the horizon, leaving the arena to bask in a soft, golden hue. The silence in the building seems like a stranger; the clangs and whoops and cheers nowhere to be heard as the last noises of a customer rang about around half an hour ago.

As Pa had instructed you before he left to take a break, you start cleaning the ammunition in your hands with a cloth. A hum falls past your lips, a melody that you had heard in the radio just a few weeks prior. Slowly and steadily you work, the metal between your fingers glinting back to life as the ash and smoke disappear into your rag.

Then, three knocks on the open wooden door.

You look up, expecting your Pa back.

Instead, your attention is caught by an unknown man: black hair coiffed and slicked back with gel, a casual suit and tie on his tall frame. He raises an eyebrow upon laying eyes on your form, back hunched over to clean and skirt covered with specks of soot.

It’s you who breaks the silence. “D’ya have an appointment, or?” You ask with a tilt of your head, eyes scanning for any sense of familiarity in him— which quickly turns futile as you’re quite certain that you’ve never before seen this man in your life, much less as a client in your range.

Brooklyn sure is a big city.

He clears his throat and his lips scrunch up in a half-smile, apprehensiveness clear in the way he holds himself. Whether it be because you intimidate him (Which, truth be told, you’ve heard said about you in a few hushed whispers before.) or because it’s most likely his first time to fire a bullet, you can’t make out.

“Yes, I— uh, I do,” His eyes scan about the place, which you can feel is a purposeful way of not keeping contact with yours. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes?”

At the mention of his name, you silently sigh to yourself, now realizing the real reason as to why your father had decided to conveniently choose this hour to take his ‘break’— he hates teaching rookies.

James Buchanan Barnes, huh?

Though your Pa’s patience in the house could rival that of a saint’s, outside of the family home it was a whole other story. He had never liked explaining techniques nor starting off from scratch, and his method of teaching resembles that of a professor more so than a kindergarten teacher.

Thankfully, though you had definitely inherited his talent, your pond of patience was a little bit bigger than his.

You stand up from your chair, making your way to the reception area. Shaking off the dust on your fingers and onto your apron, the distance between you two gradually became less and less as you reached the small table on which a log book sat. You set down the unloaded rod on the side and flip the book open, grabbing the pen lying on the side and drawing a check at the side of his name.

“Alright,” You clap your hands together, looking up from the book and onto his face, preparing to relay the basic information that rookies ought to know before even entering the range.

You pause in your tracks for a second as your gaze catches his, the afternoon light entrancingly illuminating the specks of cerulean in his eyes. His eyelashes flutter, and you force your head back down as you feel the heat rise up your cheeks.

Lord, help me. Of course he’s gotta be as cute as a bug’s ear!

You busy your eyes and hands with the pages filled with names you can hardly recount as you clear your throat, trying to reign your words back in your mouth. “So,” You start, inhaling a breath as you prepare yourself to look at him once again. “Basic rules, which are really just common sense.”

“One,” You look up, ignoring the funny feeling in your stomach as his eyebrows raise up in anticipation to hear your words. “You gotta protect ya ears and eyes. We don’t want ‘em uncovered, so get some of those—” You nod your head to the rack containing all of the ear and eyewear. “Before comin’ to the range, alright?”

He nods. “Yes ma’am.”

You let a small smile appear on your lips at the word falling from his lips.

“Two,” You point at the flags, the green ones hoisted high above each lane. “Remember what those colors mean in a range: green is no, red is yes.”

You see him open his mouth to retort, but you shut him back down with a, “Don’t question me on that one, I ain’t interested in doin’ history right now.”

He chuckles, and the rumble in his voice makes your chest flutter.

“Third, and don’t ya ever forget this one unless ya wanna lose your feet,” You hold up the unloaded rod you were cleaning before he came in. “Always make sure that ya gun ain’t got any more bullets in her before celebratin’, alright?”

He nods again, and in turn, you smile. You set the gat down once more, and motion with your head to one of the lanes.

“Let’s see whatcha’ got then, Barnes.”

[dayliqhts]

––– i believe that is EVALISTA  ROCÍO , the LADY IN WAITING of NABAR. they are twenty seven years old and are known to be very ambitious & onerous though they can also be very vengeful & stubborn. they remind me of building walls around your heart, dark eyes and very dangerous, knowing you’ve won a battle before stepping into the fight.

hello!! it’s me, su, who have been joining imperialrp since 2017. i am addicted to this rp and i am happy to be back here. go under read more to read about my baby eva, she’s a supporter of the bastard king and wants some spicy connections!   /   @imperialstarters​

i.         statistics.

here

ii.         history.

HOUSE   ROCÍO

house  rocío  is  not  the  wealthiest  families  in  nabar,  however  they  possessed  a  strong  militia power. fathers,  sons,  and  daughters  have  all  served  in  the army  or  court  and  fought  in  wars  and  political  games  for  the  greater  good  of  the  kingdom for  generations..  they  are  a  house  of  fiercely  loyal,  devoted,  and  proud  people.  they  do,  however,  have  a  speck  of  taint  in  their  reputation.  that  being  their  cruel  and  sometimes  sadistic  ways  to  secure  means  of  power  and  influence  within  the  court,  and  underhanded  ways  to  get  things  done.  despite  this,  they  are  of  quite  prominent  standing.

when  the  dispute  between  the  two  brothers  broke,  house  rocío  was  quick  to  choose  their  side.  it  was  with  the bastard  older  brother  that  they stood  with.  believing  in  the elder  brother’s  potentials  to   be  the  greater  ruler  between  the  two,  the  house  rocío  is  steadfast  in  their  support  for  the  king  esau  bastos  who  they  proclaimed  as  the  one  true  king  of  nabar  and  the  other  :  the impostor.

to  this  day,  they  are  still  one  of  king  esau’s  strongest  supporters.

EVALISTA ‘EVA’  ROCÍO

evalista  was  born  in  the  house  rocío,  an  old  mansion  built  with  large  slabs  of  rocks  by  the  rivers,  that  runs  just  a  tad  too  cold  at  night,  and  evalista  let  the  cold  seeps  from  the  stone  floors  to  her  bare  feet  and  to  the  deep  ends  of  her  heart,  just  like  everyone  did  in  this  family.

father  had  a  plan  for  her,  as  he  did  everyone  in  the  family.  father  might  be  an  unscrupulous  character  and  he  might  be  a  harsh  an  authoritative  figure  in  the  household  but  his  eyes  see  no  gender  and  it  mattered  not  that  he  had  no  sons  yet.  his  daughters  will  carry  on  the  rocío  name.

when  a  son  finally  come  a  few  years  after  ella’s  birth,  the  treatment  towards  his  two  eldest  daughters  did  not  change.  all  of  the  rocío  kids received  the  same  standard  of  education.  they  were  taught  in  literature  and  politics  and  was  expected  to  be  familiar  with  the  saddle  and  the  swords  —  something  evalista  truly  enjoyed.

mother  married  into  the  family,  so  sometimes  it’s  a  bit  hard  for  her.  sometimes  the  house  gets  a  bit  too  cold  for  her.  perhaps  that’s  why she  passed  on  early,  shortly  after  delivering  her  baby  brother  xavier, the  last  of  the  rocío  children.  evalista  was  fifteen  by  then,  and  though  she  loved  her  mother,  she  also  loathed  how  evalista  always  turned  her  eyes  away  from  her  and  seemingly  distant  from  the  rest  of  her  family.  her  death  was  not  missed  by  much  in that  cold  house.

LADY  SEVILLE

the  war  is  something  truly  vivid  in  evalista’s  memories.  she  was  already  sixteen  by  then  and  arranged  to  be  married  to  the  lord  seville.  father  thought  it  a  good  match.  he was  not  the  heir  to  the dukedom,  which  would  allow   more  freedom  for  his  daughter  and whatever  ploy  the  house  rocío  is  up  to  in  the  future.

at  the  urges  of  her  father,  her  marriage  to  the  seville  was  ushered  forward.  both  her  and  her  groom  was  entirely  too  young  to  be  wed,  just  kids  in  a  game  of  chess, only difference  is  evalista  was  entirely  in  control  of  the  situation  and  consented  to  it.  she  was  seventeen  back  then  but  she  remembered  the  look  on  her  young  groom’s  face  vividly;  he  was  probably  the  same  age  as  hers,  yet  his  eyes  were  soft  and  his  gait  entirely  different  than  evalista.  she  thought, oh! how  delightful,  he  seems  easy  to  control.  despite  having  no  say  in  the  marriage,  evalista  was  content  with  her  father’s  choice.

from  then  on,  evalista  was  known  as  the  lady  seville  and  moved  from  the  cold  family  house  by  the  rivers,  hidden  away  by  thick  foliage  and  into  the  sun.

evalista  didn’t  know  much  about  her  husband  but  there  would  be  time  to  learn  and  she  intended  to  learn  as  much  as  she  could,  for  ignorance  is  only  a  fool’s  game.

LADY   EVALISTA   ROCÍO  OF  THE  QUEEN’S  SERVICE

despite  the  impeccable  scheme  his  father  had  put  in  motion  for  evalista,  when  the  king  of  nabar  passed  away,  all  was  pushed  into  disarray.  with  the  two  brothers  fighting  for  their  claim  to  the  throne,  the  family  must  make  a  choice.

house  rocío  chose  to  stand  with  the  true  son  of  the  king,  who  they  put  their  faith  in  and  believed  to  be  the  better  choice  for  king,  as  he  possessed  the  qualities  of  a  great  ruler.  this  effectively  put  them  in  conflict  with  the  house  seville.

evalista  promptly  requested  for  a  divorce  after  declaring  her  allegiance  to  the  bastard  king.  her  husband’s  family,  in  order  to  save  himself  from  the  embarrassment,  instead  annulled  their  marriage  and  sent  their  children  out  of  the  seville  house.  evalista  didn’t  mind  this,  one  way  or  another,  she  had  achieved  her  goal.

at  twenty  years  of  age,  evalista  was  stripped  from  her  title  as  the  lady  of  seville  and  the  rocío  house  rallied  forces  to  fight  with  the  king  esao  for  his  rightful  place  in  the  throne  of  nabar.  in the  midst  of  a  great  war,  nabar  was  fighting  internally,  and  it  costed  the  rocío  family  their  eldest  son.  lorentz  fell  in  the  civil  war,  fighting  in  the  frontlines,  and  it  only  steeled  their  resolve  even  more.  they  had  to  win  this.  the  cause  became  more  personal  for  them  more  than  ever.

evalista  entered  the  queen’s  service and  kissed  the  ring  on  her  finger,  a  display  of  her  undying  support  and  devotion  to  her  and  swore  that  she  would  do  what  it  takes  to  see  that  esao  bastos  is  crowned  the  king  of  all nabar  and  to  stand  by  his  queen’s  side.

iii.         wanted  connections.

if you’ve read up ‘till here, might as well leave ‘miss americana’ or some hearts in the comment and i’ll give u a surprise too ; )

former husband :  of house seville (NABAR). perhaps the second of third born, definitely not up for the dukedom seat. should be around the same age as evalista. would support the SOUTH NABAR. their chemistry and history during the marriage can be discussed, i don’t have a set idea for it yet and i want to give you space to explore your own character  — this also goes for their children / if they have any during their marriage or not and who has them now.  /  reserved for blossom.

information broker: someone she goes to for information from places the ears of a noble can’t reach. probably a shady character, but UTP.

hired hand: someone she hires to do her dirty jobs for her, offing someone, cleaning up her mess, getting rid of inconveniences. is either motivated by money or loyalty to the house rocío.

mentor: i don’t think she’s TERRIBLY good at swordfight but she definitely can hold her own if the situation calls for it. this is someone who taught her the sword, i think her father would train her personally as well, but for the most part it will be this person. can ALSO be someone she just met and decided to brush up her skills with so she doesn’t get rusty.

toxic relationship: a lost flame. probably happened after her marriage until recently. you’re a heartbreaker and she’s not a docile little lamb, no matter how much she liked to play the part. you’re mean and she’s twice as vicious and your relationship is a roller coaster of emotions and toxicity. your passion and love for one another burns brighter than anything else, it’s no wonder it burns faster than lightning too.   /    taken by petal

the mandatory childhood friend

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: Blind Ambitions

Rose’s blind sister Lily visits and might need more help than she’s willing to admit. The Girls have a garage sale.

Picture It...

The Girls are having a barbecue on the lanai with their guest, Rose’s sister Lily. Lily lost her sight six months ago, and is still adjusting while Rose tries not to be a mother hen. Blanche reminisces about Southern barbecues and Lily tells a story about their St. Olafian camping trips. The Girls discuss Lily’s adjustment -- she claims she can cope with most things now, and she even still watches television. When Sophia grouses about their TV being broken, Lily gives them the idea of having a garage sale to get money for a new one.

DOROTHY: Listen, mom, we cannot afford a new TV. We’re using the household money to repair the roof and repave the driveway. SOPHIA: Great, and what am I supposed to do while every other old lady on the block is watching Cosby? DOROTHY: Well, you can sit in the new driveway and hope that an amusing Black family drops by.

Later, the Girls are gathering together the things they could sell at a garage sale. Dorothy pulls out an old doll, Blanche has a hippy outfit she wore to Woodstock (the movie), and Rose finds a pair of candlesticks she decides to keep. Lily offers to put them in the alcove, and tells Rose not to be so protective. Rose apologizes -- while discreetly moving aside a lamp Lily was about to walk into. Lily then announces she’s going to her room and Dorothy and Blanche scramble to move a half-dozen boxes out of her way without her noticing, and she triumphantly declares, when she makes it to the hallway, that she doesn’t need anyone’s help.

The next day, Lily is cooking bacon on the stove, and when she turns away for a moment, the pan catches fire. She cries out for help, and Rose and Blanche come rushing in, with Rose putting out the fire with an extinguisher. Dorothy runs in as Blanche tells Lily she shouldn’t have been cooking on the stove. Lily apologizes but says it was just an accident as she sulks out. Blanche and Dorothy confront Rose, saying Lily isn’t as independent as she’s saying she is, and she might need to go back to the school for the blind, despite dropping out due to alleged boredom. Rose agrees to talk to her.

LILY: I remember when you were six years old and dad got you that puppy for your birthday. You worried because you thought her paws were too big and that the other dogs would laugh at her. ROSE: Well they did! They used to bark and point at her! LILY: Everybody pointed at her. You made her wear a bonnet and matching booties.

Rose goes to her room, where Lily is staying, and Lily reassures Rose that she’s fine. She says Rose is a worrier by nature, and Rose says not to change the subject. She tells Lily that she’s trying to do much by herself, and the independence of which she’s so proud isn’t serving her now. Lily finally breaks and tells Rose she just wants things to go back to the way they were, but they’re not going to. Rose tells her she needs help, and Lily begs Rose to come back home and live with her before bursting into tears.

Later, Rose tells the Girls that she’s seriously thinking about moving with Lily to Chicago, but both Blanche and Rose are skeptical that it’ll actually help Lily. Dorothy accuses her of doing it out of guilt, and Blanche relates a story of how she lost a male friend because her husband made her feel guilty about it. Sophia has a slightly more relevant story about how she struggled to get back on her feet after her stroke. It took Dorothy pushing her to be independent for her to actually make the effort, and Sophia tells Rose she needs to help her sister “to help herself.” Rose goes off to think some more.

DOROTHY: *after Blanche rebuffs a customer’s offer of $1.25 for her Elvis shakers* Blanche, I can’t believe that you did that! I mean, they’re just a silly salt and pepper shaker. BLANCHE: The King is gone, Dorothy. But we must cherish the things he left behind. His movies, his songs... DOROTHY: And his seasonings.

At the garage sale, every time someone shows an interest in one of the Girls’ things, they react badly. Rose isn’t willing to give up her teddy, Mr. Longfellow; Blanche believes her Elvis salt and pepper shakers must be cherished; and Dorothy squabbles with a teenager over a hockey stick used by Bobby Hull. They come to the conclusion that they’re not willing to part with any of their things, and decide to just pay for a new TV in installments. Blanche and Dorothy go to shoo out their customers.

Lily enters and tells Rose how much she appreciates Rose being willing to help her. She asks Rose to get her a glass of water, and Rose freezes before reminding Lily that she’s capable of getting a glass of water — and if she isn’t, she needs professional help that Rose can’t give. She’s made up her mind: She’s not going to Chicago. Lily gets angry and accuses Rose of turning her back on her, storming out.

DOROTHY: *after the third time Rose leaves the house and returns* Come on now. Come on now, get out of here. You’ve come back more times than Shirley MacLaine.

Two months later, Rose is on her way to visit Lily. She’s sure that Lily is going to pressure her into living with her again and is nervous because it was hard enough to refuse the first time. The Girls encourage her to stick to her guns. She leaves, but not without kissing her friends goodbye. When Rose arrives at the airport later, she thanks the flight attendant for all the extras they provided her (including pillows, Dramamine, and 10 packs of smokehouse almonds).

Rose is surprised to see Lily at the airport, waiting for her. Lily introduces her seeing-eye dog, Becky, who Rose of course melts over (side note: I don’t think you’re supposed to pet service dogs the way Rose does here, but considering the dog is likely not an actual service dog, I’ll excuse it). Lily apologizes to Rose, saying Rose did the right thing by pushing her. She went back to the school for the blind, and is finally in a place where she can take care of herself -- with Becky’s help, of course. She and Becky take the lead to the baggage claim, with Lily tossing off a one-liner that has Rose a bit concerned:

ROSE: I’m so proud of you. LILY: Oh this is nothing! What till you see me drive home!

“If it’s a choice between the two of them, let the blind one make change.”

After Blanche and Dorothy had their turns with sisterly conflict episodes, it’s now Rose’s turn. This time it’s not long-standing animosity or bubbling resentment that sets the two against each other, but a new life change that prompts an adaptation in the relationship. As depressing as it may be, I think Lily and Rose might be the healthiest sister relationship in the show’s history, not that that’s saying much. Lily is one of the more memorable guest characters on the show, mostly because she’s given room to have complex emotions.

In the episode, Lily is played by Polly Holiday, whose main claim to fame is playing Flo “Kiss My Grits” Castleberry on the sitcom Alice -- a catchphrase I’ve always found a little baffling, but at least it’s memorable. If you’d asked me based on what little I’d seen of Alice if she’d be capable of giving one of the most memorable guest performances on Golden Girls ever, I admit I’d have been a little skeptical -- and I’d be wrong, because she really brings it. It’s not often an actor can be in a scene with Betty White and completely command all the attention (and probably some of the credit goes to White for being a great scene partner).

SOPHIA: Why are we cooking outdoors? DOROTHY: Ma, we’re having a barbecue. SOPHIA: You know what they call cooking meat over an open fire in Sicily? DOROTHY: No, what? SOPHIA: Poverty.

I appreciate what the episode does, making Lily an . . . well, I don’t want to say antagonist, but definitely the person who’s causing the conflict. She’s not actually dealing with her problems, but she wants to look like she is because she’s too proud to ask for help -- and when she finally does, it’s from a person who’s not qualified to help her. The first time I watched this episode, I was a naïve youngster who didn’t understand why Rose didn’t go help Lily -- I felt that I would, under the circumstances. Now that I’m an adult, I understand better why that situation is untenable, because Rose would have to quit her job and, given that she can’t really teach Lily to be independent, would never be able to have her own life because Lily would be dependent on her.

The show is also not shy about showing how Lily’s lack of control over her situation is making her lash out, and that this isn’t excusable: During the pivotal scenes between Rose and Lily, Lily does everything she can to deflect taking responsibility for herself. She tells Rose, “You’d be worried if you couldn’t find anything to worry about” when Rose comes to check on her (keep in mind, she’d been screaming for help mere minutes earlier), begs Rose to fix the problem for her, and finally escalates to accusing Rose of abandoning her when Rose tries to get her to take care of herself.

DOROTHY: Will you look at this? I got this doll on my 10th birthday. I can’t believe I’ve kept her all these years. *Sophia enters behind her* Her hair’s falling out, her clothes are all worn, she smells of mothballs... SOPHIA: Hey, I may not be Ann-Margret, but I’m still your mother!

There is a difference between toughing something out and truly coping with it, and I think anyone who’s gone through a major life change would agree. The difference lies in confronting the reality of the situation. For most of the episode, Lily adamantly refuses to do that, and Rose enables her -- the other Girls recognize that and try to help Rose see it. For me, the best (and hardest) part of the episode to watch is that little moment in the kitchen when Rose says Lily is very independent, and Dorothy firmly says, “No she’s not, Rose.”

I’m not disabled myself, so I looked up details on common reactions to late-onset disabilities. We never know how Lily became blind -- if it was something that had been coming on for a while or if it was the result of some kind of trauma -- but I found an article on the Royal National Institute for Blind People’s website that clarified what Lily is going through: Grief. If you watch closely, you can see Lily’s going through a few different stages of grief -- denial, anger, and fear. While her situation is resolved mostly off-camera, it’s nice to see that she’s allowed to have those emotions.

ROSE: *about Lily* She served three terms on the city council, and she was the first woman in St. Olaf’s to ever have a pilot’s license. BLANCHE: Oh really? Well we have something in common, Lily. I was the first woman in my hometown ever to have a pilot! DOROTHY: Blanche’s bed is next to the X-15 at the Space and Aviation Museum.

Still, as much as I like the episode, I do think there are a few parts where the writing isn’t as strong as it could be. Most of the episode is tipped on the serious side rather than the comedic side. The garage sale scene is really funny, but doesn’t make sense. Presumably the Girls went through all their stuff before putting it out on the lanai, to confirm they wanted to sell it and to price it. Why is it that only on the day of the sale do they decide they want to keep all their bric-a-brac? Also, I’m not exactly sure how they plan to get a new TV with a $60 down payment and paying “the rest of it” off on time. Side note: The scene of them frantically clearing Lily’s path of boxes is funny, but it’s really their fault for leaving boxes of stuff lying around while a blind guest is trying to navigate their house.

While the episode is balanced really well between the four Girls, I think Blanche’s major part of the episode -- her extended story about her male friend Andrew (an excellent lover . . . no, riveter) -- doesn’t really serve either the episode or the scene it’s in, which is a recurring problem with first-season episodes. Her anecdotes from the opening scene about barbecues with the Darcy triplets (Hank, Beau, and . . . Dove?) are much funnier and feel more appropriate to the scene.

BLANCHE: *about Sophia’s stroke* But you got better. SOPHIA: Yeah, because [Dorothy] stopped coddling me. She screamed, she hollered, day and night. She made me do my therapy. She forced me to rebuild my life because she knew I could. And for that I’ll always be grateful. DOROTHY: Aw, thanks, Ma. SOPHIA: I only have one question: Now that I’m better, why do you still scream and holler at me?

Also, bit of dubious-but-fun trivia for you: I already said that Holliday is great as Lily. That said, she allegedly wasn’t the first choice for the role. If the information in Golden Girls Forever is correct, the person who the producers originally wanted to play Lily, the actress whose name was thrown around early in the process . . . was Lucille Ball. Yes, that Lucille Ball.

Keep in mind I couldn’t find a secondary source for this information. Contrary to the impression I probably give, I don’t take Golden Girls Forever as gospel and I generally do try to confirm what’s written via some other source. If I can’t, I don’t want to present it to you as fact. So allegedly the reason Ball declined the role was that she didn’t want to do too many serious roles, and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad Polly Holliday got the role instead of Lucille Ball. If she had, I think the whole episode, including the dramatic scenes, would have been less about the characters and performances, and more about “OMG, that’s Lucy!”

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰 (three cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

Sophia shows how much patience she has for haggling:

CUSTOMER: How much? SOPHIA: Two bucks. Get wild. Treat yourself. CUSTOMER: Nah, I’ll give you a dollar-fifty. SOPHIA: What does this look like, Baghdad? *pulls vase out of her hands* Get the hell out of here! DOROTHY: Ma, that’s no way to sell things! SOPHIA: Hey, go to Neiman Marcus sometime, see if they treat you any better.

[elejah-wonderland]

Hellbound/2

Fanfiction

Part 2

This a tvd+to fanfiction story. Totally AU.

Premise:

The  Mikaelsons helped the Mystic Falls Scoobies fight a clan of ancient  werewolves called the Hundings. Klaus and Caroline paid the ultimate  price, as well as Damon. But as it is the case in the magical world of  the Mystic Falls vampires, death is not the end.

There is  also a new adventure looming for the Mystic Falls Scoobies and their now  friends, the Original vampires, as everything is somehow always  connected to them. And so, they are Hellbound…

Main pairings_ Elijah MIkaelson x Elena Gilbert,

Rebekah Mikaelson x Stefan Salvatore

Kol Mikaelson x Bonnie Bennett

Damon Salvatore x Katherine Pierce

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

thanks for reading - xoxo

In Halifax, Nova Scotia

Elijah woke up before anyone and sat down in the garden of the house they were inhabiting while they were in Nova Scotia. Taking a photo from his bag, his mind wondered back to the events a few months back.

Flashback

Mystic Falls, The Mikaelson House

"I suppose you are who I think you are!" Elijah said coolly.

The woman was calm not fearing the vampire and then introduced herself.

"My name is Eilif. I am Esther’s cousin -like you have been told by my messenger."

"Where is Klaus?" the vampire wanted to know, still not moving or showing any pleasant emotion to the woman.

"Your cousin is safe," the woman replied, "but at present I cannot tell you where his body is - not before we resolve the family matter and his allegiance to this family."

"What family? Klaus is my brother!"

"No. He is your cousin - as I am your mother!" the woman said looking at the vampire with apprehensive, but steady eyes.

“What are you talking about? You are not my mother - my mother is Esther.”

“No, she is not. It is a long story. The time has come to reveal your true identity.”

“What?” Elijah looked at the woman in completely disbelief. Elijah drew a deep breath.

“I am a norn. A being that dwells between the world of men and the world of keepers of universe, living in the place the humans called heaven, but in actual fact my home is the wind, the river, the woods, the mountains, the gletschers, the meadows. We are keepers of  nature, we can see and hear things but can never meddle, unless the elders ordered it in certain occasions. This time I could not stand by and let you, my son, nor your cousins be warned of the danger that is arising. I could have left you clues, but my mother's heart prevailed this time. I wanted to step out many times and made myself known to you, especially after you had become a vampire. That had changed so much for me. You becoming a supernatural being, made it more easily to follow you.”

“Are you ok?” Elena said breaking the Original’s thoughts as she stepped out into the garden.

“I am fine. Just - thinking about - everything - her.” Elijah said putting the frame with the picture down on the table.

“It is kind of still mind-blowing that you are - a prince.” Elena said.

“I am not.”

“But your father was a king.” Elena then said. “This is so like Games of Thrones.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. It’s a TV show - and books - nevermind. She said that more is to come and that all this with the Hundings is far from over.” Elena now reminded the vampire.

“Yes.This is why I wish I could get in touch with her.”

“She said that she won’t be able to come back - or?”

“There must be a way.” Elijah said, and then put a small smile on, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “I wanted to tell you that I - had fun last night - as Kol would put it.”

“I’m glad. We need to have fun. Too much sad things happened - and Caroline and - other would want us to have fun, too. But talking about Caroline - I called Jeremy this morning. They didn’t get in touch with him. He tried, but it looks like the link is broken or something.” Elena said.

“Well, one good thing is - they are together.” Elijah said.

“Yeah. And we haven’t lost them completely.

*

Meanwhile

In Yarmouth, Nova Scotia

Francesca Guerrera sat down with one of her confindantes.

"You done it?! And did you manage to find the amulet?!

"No. The old woman wouldn't talk. It wasn't in the house." Oliver said.

"We need it for the unification ritual,"Francesca said,"it's in their family. Where the hell has the woman hid it?!"

"According to the legend you need the blood of the werewolf trinity of the three oldest bloodlines...and Jackson is dead?! Plus, the ancient witch that apparently has the spell still is nowhere to be found?!"

"I have it all covered. I will let you on a little secret if you promise to be the faithful wolf you swore in blood to be."

"I swore more than that my Queen" Oliver said.

"I know. This will also be a test of your fidelity" Francesca said.

Oliver now eagerly waited for her to let him in on the secret and she said smirking, "Jackson Dumas is alive!"

"Why the pretence?!" Oliver shoot up.

"To break Hayley's spirit."

"But she still has the girl. How is it breaking her spirit?!"

"You are one dumb wolf. Sexy, but dumb. You don't know about anything if love, being alpha and wolf families?! "

"The whole pack would look after the young?!"

"Not if you prove that the young is not from their bloodline" Francesca said.

"Hayley had the girl with someone else and not with Jackson?! But he claimed her as her own?!"

"Yes. But her father comes from an ancient bloodline too. And we have the trinity we need. It worked perfectly"

"Who is the father of the child?!" Oliver asked.

"Mason Lockwood" Francesca said.

*

In Halifax

Kol woke up with a slight headache. The magical herbs to control him had a side-effect and he hated taking them, but he knew that if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to keep his blood lust under control, as well as his temper.

Too many werewolves in the club proved to be too much for Kol. It was good Elijah managed to anticipate Kol's seizure moment when he ripped into a woman. He managed to get him off, compelling the woman to forget what had happened. Elena was right behind him to heal the girl. To Bonnie it looked like they just did everything in two seconds. Kol was fuming, but Elijah was convincing enough to bring him back into his mellow state somehow.

“Good morning” Elijah said to his brother Kol as he and the other’s joined him in the kitchen.

"I thought you have things under control?!" Elijah said angrily, but still in a very calm manner.

"I don't need a babysitter?!" Kol sifted.

Elijah sighed a little. He didn't want to continue with the argument or act like a smart older brother.

"It wasn't my intention, but you have to exercise control. You need to manage it a little bit better! We don't want to attract unwanted attention. At least not till we get more information." Elijah said.

Kol agreed. Controling his emotions and instincts have never been his strong point, not even as a child. His heart ached for being tossed away by Sophie, spuring emotions that made him want to lash out.

Elijah's phone buzzed and he looked at the message that Elena sent.

'Following a guy with a triple crescent tattoo. Couldn't be compelled"

He updated Kol about the message.

"So, the night proved to be fruitful. You know what such good luck means?!'

"Yes. Too good to be true. They know we are here!" Elijah said.

"You are not worried about Elena?!" Kol asked.

"She can handle herself. She is not a hopeless little girl"

"No, she is very much a shield-maiden, I see why you admire her so much." Kol said. "I admire her for a lot more than her ability to fight."

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?” Elijah said tilting his head making a little pout.

"Not surprising - knowing your history with the doppelgangers.” Kol remarked.

“This is different. Also, everything about me and Tatia wasn’t true.” Elijah said.

“About you killing her, but that night at Samhain - you were together?”

“We were - but -”

“What?”

“She didn’t want to commit.” Elijah said.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” Elijah said followed by a silent sigh.

“I am out. Still hungry. This pig’s blood is vile.”

"I thought you’d be homebound. Wasn't Sophie supposed to be here by now -or is your heart swayed in another direction?!" Elijah referred to Kol and Bonnie’s good time the night before.

"The Bennet witch?! Hm -she’s got spunk, I must admit that." Kol said chuckling a bit.

*

Elsewhere

Elena and Bonnie followed the crescent tatoo guy to his destination. He walked into a house that looked very expensive, in a wealthy part of the city.

"He couldn't be compelled." Elena said to Bonnie."But it wasn't vervain?!"

"It was hilarious watching you play a silly drunk explaining to him that you see psychodelic something in his eyes. Still can't get over it that you can do all vampire stuff and you are not one?!"

"Feels weird too, trust me. I can be an actress, right! Never thought of that"

"We are now high school drop outs." Bonnie remarked.

"I know. When all this is over, I will do school. Did you know that Elijah actually has degrees in arhitecture, World literature several times over."

"He seriously went to university?!" Bonnie couldn't believe it.

"Yep. When he was a man, it was expected of him to be a warrior and a farmer, but he loved construction."

"So weird when you talk about them as normal humans who had dreams and wishes," Bonnie remarked,"so, what’s this thing about you doing drama?! I thought you wanted to be a doctor?"

"I don't know. I wanted to be a doctor like my dad, but now I don't know."

"The way things go, I kinda doubt we will ever have a normal life." Bonnie said. “It also gets me that you are this enhanced human and that you can compell and do like everything the Originals do.”

“It’s crazy - yeah. Ok. Let’s look for the - whatever we are looking for.”

They collected enough info about the place. Elena now called Elijah. The witch and the doppelganger caught a taxi and went back to the Compound.

*

Back in the Mikaelson’s current compound

"When the witches channelled the Hunding magic and their covens, the balance between our two worlds was disturbed." Sophie said over the  video call from New York.

"Right, and that means exactly what?" Rebekah said waiting for a very bad answer.

"It's our fault, too." Sophie continued.

"Sophie, please no riddles. Tell us what is going on?!" Rebekah urged the witch to speak clearly.

"They used a very potent dark magic. And I have done that too, with enhancing your ability to fight against them."

Stefan now jumped into the conversation, "And now we have strange side effects, right?!"

“Yep.” Sophie said.

"I don't feel anything." Rebekah uttered.

"Not yet. I tried to check things out about it, but I have no knowledge of it. I will need to get to Eilif somehow."

"Elijah said that she would not be coming back?!" Rebekah said.

"Well, we need to get hold of her. The disturbance is not only here, but also in the spirit world." Sophie said.

"Don't tell me that Sigrid Mikaelson has something to do with it?!" Rebekah scoffed a little.

"I have not found anything about her. That is why we need Eilif." Sophie replied and looked at Elijah, who came into the living room.

“Can you get to - my mother?” Elijah asked.

“I will try.” Sophie said. “We need answers.”

“Right.” Elijah said, and updated the witch on Elena and Bonnie finding the place where the triple crescent guy lived.

“They are something called ‘the shadowhunters’ - directly linked to Hell,” Sophie said, “and according to what I know - the Hell witches!”

“Hell witches?!” Elijah repeated.

“Yes. Do you know about them?”

Elijah went quiet, nodding a little.

“Right, you guys, I will see what else I can find here. See you in NOLA soon.” Sophie said.

“Yes.” Rebekah said and as Sophie hung up, she turned to Elijah. “You ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“You are still our brother, same as Klaus. Nothing’s changed.” Kol said.

“I know - still - “ Elijah started but stopped.

“It’s always and forever no matter whether you are a Mikaelson or not.” Rebekah said. 

“Thank you.” Elijah put a small smile on. So many things had changed in the past months, some good and some awkwardly unusual. With all the strange revelations, they were closer than ever, and his heart was glad.

*

In the spirit world, Klaus and Caroline found themselves in an unusual place, as they finished their talk with Lexi, and as they tried to get out of Caroline's house, they found themselves in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. But there was no town, only a viking settlement.

"Where are we?" Caroline asked. "I know this is so weird in this world, but how do we get to do time traveling?"

"There is no time here." Klaus explained." I believe this is some foul magic."

"And I thought, being dead will exempt us from the whole thing." Caroline said.

"Well, the note about finding Sigrid Mikaelson didn't come by regular post?!" Klaus said.

"No. It would be too weird to have something regular." Caroline said. She looked at him now as there was a certain change in him as if he got fond memories return to him from time passed. "You look like you have come home?!"

Klaus smiled a little in his usual fashion and took her by the hand, "Come...let us walk through the village."

Soon it was clear to them that they could not be seen by the people. They could not hear them, but only observe them. Till a woman came up to them. Klaus recognized straight away by the woman's dress that she was a witch. She addressed him in old norse, asking him to follow her into the woods.

"Ok- can you translate?" Caroline sifted.

"We are ghosts and before that we were vampires and she actually summoned me!"

"You, of course!" Caroline was miffed.

"Sorry love, us." Klaus said.

"I bet it is a Mikaelson thing" Caroline remarked.

They stopped at a point in the woods where a white oak tree stood among different pine trees.

Caroline could see Klaus cringe seeing the tree.

Then the woman spoke again in old norse, "What is she saying?" Caroline was annoyed for not understanding a word.

"Basically, the Hell witches spoke to her and apparently the disturbance in the spirit world believe it or not is ours to resolve," Klaus turned to Caroline, "according to her, the Gods have sent for us"

"Gods, right?! What else will I hear, seriously, does she know that we are vampires?!"

"Actually, we are not vampires anymore, just ghosts, who apparently according to her have a direct link to Asgard!" Klaus smirked a little.

Caroline rolled her eyes and huffed.

They could both see that the witch looked in awe and slight horror as she saw a woman appear  from nowhere and addressed Klaus and Caroline.

With a hand wave she closed the veil between the witch and them.

"She needn't know what is coming yet!" Skuld, one of the norns said to Caroline and Klaus.

"Who are you?" Caroline wanted to know.

"My name is Skuld, people refer to me as the norn of the future, although fate is such a diverse thing and it is interwoven like the roots of Yggdrasil. If it wasn't so all would be so much easier. Anyway, not to divert from the serious matter, which is the disturbance in magic and balance of the natural world.  We can hear, see, know things but we cannot directly participate, although it has been done before, and because of it mayham is in front of our doors."

"This is going to be lengthy!"- Klaus then said.

Skuld smiled a little "yes, it will. It started a long time ago, people say before time. Vampires, that you were, are also creatures from before time. "

"Just tell us what we have to do! I guess we have to save the spirit world?!"- Caroline interrupted.

"Yes. If you put it that simply. I am here to pass my magic to you and make you a valkyrie, although you already are one!" Skuld said to Caroline taking hold of her hand.

Caroline could feel the same surge of magic go through her as Sophie had done with the enhancement spell.

Caroline could now sea a seal on her wrist as if she was branded. Klaus heard stories as a boy about shield-maidens who would tatoo the valkyrie wings.

"The Hell witches are like no other witches you have seen so far. They will use magic and swords like they are one." Skuld said.

Caroline now looked at her and asked her about how and when it was going to happen.

"You will know. Soon. Gather your army. I will see you again.” Skuld said and as she appeared, she disappeared.

"Ugh, this is exactly like it happened with Elijah's mom!! They come and go and leave you with no real clue!!" Caroline said and then looked at Klaus as if she just realized what had happened. "Am I supposed to lead a ghost army against those Hell witches?!"

"It appears to be so!" Klaus said smiling at her cheekily and looking at his beloved with great admiration, before he pulled her into a kiss, "I knew there was something so much more to you!”

*

Flashforward

”We should check everything about the Hell witches. I remember reading about them once when I lived in Marrakesh in the 13th century.” Elijah said.

”We go to Marocco?” Elena cocked a quizzical eyebrow at the Original.

” Yes. There is someone I used to know. An old acquaintance of mine, Aya Al-Rashid knows about them.”

”Ok. Let’s go then.”

[andaleduardo]

How to Break Your Heart and Make Sure It Stays Broken

Read the 1st chapter on ao3

Summary:  In which 15-year-old Richie confesses his feelings for Eddie on New Year’s Eve and they don’t talk about it for the next 4 years.

31st December 2010, Friday

 “Would you put that thing down for one second?”

Richie looks up from the phone screen to his mother’s eyes. “Mom, this is the future. Do you want me to put the future down?”

“I want you to get off that sofa and help us serve the champagne.”

“Don’t make us regret giving you the future, Richie.” His father added as he entered the living room with a bottle of champagne on one hand and one of sparkling apple juice in the other.

“Fine.” He pockets the phone as he gets up to clean up the dinner plates. “But I gotta text the losers at midnight, we have a group chat on Facebook now-”

“Yes, son, we know. That’s all you’ve been talking about lately.” Wentworth interrupts while fumbling with the cork on the sparkling juice bottle.

“One day I’ll figure out why adults hate technology!” Richie shouts as he enters the kitchen. He places the plates on the sink and grabs three champagne glasses from the special collection his mom owns before going back to the living room. These things look like they’ll break if you so much as breathe in their direction.

“We don’t hate technology.” Maggie complains as she tries to rub away a stain in the tablecloth. “You kids just love it too much.”

That makes Richie laugh. “You don’t even let dad teach you how to use his comput-

The juice bottle’s cork comes off with a loud POP! that startles Richie and sends one of the glasses tumbling down onto the carpeted floor. It shatters into a million pieces despite the soft surface.

“Richie!” His mom cries out loud.

“I’m sorry!” Quickly, he places down the two survivor glasses. He can hear his dad trying not to laugh.

“Your grandma gifted these to us after we got married…” She laments as she looks at the sparkling shards at their feet.

“I’ll clean this up, you two be careful not to step on it.” Went adds before going to get the vacuum cleaner from the bottom of the pantry.

“I am sorry.”

With a sigh, Maggie hugs him sideways. “It’s okay, I guess we’ll never have 10 people over at the same time.”

“Yeah, we probably won’t.”

 Once the carpet is clean, the champagne and false champagne are served and there’s only 5 minutes left till midnight, Richie takes his phone out and opens Eddie’s contact. He stares at the text he wrote probably 4 hours ago and reads it over and over again just to really make sure there’s no mistakes.

The thing is, tonight, Richie is going to fuck up his entire life. Or, at least that’s what it feels like.

You see, Eddie was the last of the group to get a phone. He got it on Christmas as a gift from his uncle, and needless to say Sonia didn’t like the idea. She only gave it to him one or two days ago after she figured out how to make it as “safe” as possible for his son. That means Eddie has exactly 3 numbers on his contact list. The number to his house, the number to Bill’s house, and Bill’s number. Because, apparently, that’s the only friend of Eddie’s Sonia trusts.

Stan’s Jewish, Mike is home-schooled (and black, although Sonia never admits that’s the real reason she doesn’t like the boy), Ben moved into town not so long ago, Bev is a girl, and Richie is Richie.

Bill’s family goes to church every Sunday and they’ve known each other ever since both boys were little. Hence why Eddie’s contact list is sadder than the life of their math teacher.

But Richie is weirdly thankful for this because that means Eddie doesn’t have his number. However, Bill texted them Eddie’s contact yesterday, saying they probably shouldn’t send him anything before school starts because Sonia will most likely check his phone.

Well, Sonia can go to hell because Richie is about to do something very stupid.

He’s a true romantic at heart, alright? Plus, he’s been in love with Eddie since he was twelve (or at least he realized it when he was twelve) and this secret is starting to claw up at his insides as if he had swallowed a dysfunctional cat.

In other words, it’s driving him crazy and he has to do something about it.

Now, he’s not mental. He’s not going to confess his feelings or anything. Right, as if. He’s simply going to become a secret admirer or something cheesy like that.

Yesterday, he sneaked into his dad’s computer while both his parents were taking an afternoon nap and searched for “romantic quotes” on Google. He typed down the one he liked the most, deleted the history, and then tried to convince himself this wasn’t the worst plan of his entire life.

It seemed like a very clever plan the closer to midnight it got.

“Alright, my loves.” Maggie gives everyone their respective glass. The non-alcoholic, sad-looking one for Richie, and the fun-looking ones for the adults. Bullshit, if you ask him.

“How come I never get to drink the real thing?”

“Well, you hate it.” Maggie shrugs. “You’ve said so the past two years that we’ve let you had one sip for the toast.”

“But I’m older now, I can handle it.”

“You can try it again after you finish that.” Went tips his cup in the direction of Richie’s. Naturally, Richie throws his head back and drinks the apple juice in one gulp, almost cutting his lip in the process. Seriously, these things are that thin.

“Done.” He announces as he fills the cup with champagne. “Now we can have a real toast.”

Both adults laugh and soon the countdown begins. Richie screams the numbers along with his parents, keeping his thumb over the ‘send’ button at the same time.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

He presses down, the text is sent, and he pockets his phone once again to click his fragile cup against his parents’. As expected, it tastes just as awful as he remembers. He spits it out much like last year, and they all go outside to see the fireworks.

  00:00 To: Spaghetti <3

And I just wanted to say that your smile reminds me that not all art is created with a pencil and a paintbrush.

  His phone vibrates at exactly 00:49, which means Richie is already in his bedroom because that’s how New Year works in his family. They stay home, celebrate till the fireworks die down, and then part ways at the end of the hallway.

He interrupts Charlie the goldfish’s dinner and checks his phone only to let the little container of fish’s food fall off his hand. Thankfully, it was closed.

 00:49 From: Spaghetti <3

Richie?

Did you steal that from your mom’s poetry collection, asshole? :P

 Charlie the goldfish fades out from his peripheral vision. Richie sits down before he collapses and bursts through the floor right onto their cold, lifeless basement.

 What the fuck?

Seriously.

What the actual fuck?

 With shaky hands, he types out a reply.

 Richie: what makes you think it’s richie?

 Spaghetti <3: Bill gave me everyone’s numbers

Spaghetti <3: I don’t have them saved yet because of my mom, though

Spaghetti <3: Why? Is this not Richie? Did Bill give me the wrong number?

 Fucking Bill. Now, Richie’s pacing the entire floor of his bedroom, knowing he’d walk right up to the celling if he could. He keeps staring at the small screen, wondering if he could save his ass by turning this shitty device off. His mom is right, technology sucks.

 Spaghetti <3: Hello??

 Shit.

 Richie: hahaha you got me Eds

Richie: c’est moi

 Then he hesitates for a second.

 Richie: sooo, are we good?

Spaghetti <3: Yeah, of course

Spaghetti <3: Why shouldn’t we be?

 Oh. Oh. So, Eddie didn’t take him seriously. He took it as one of his weird jokes.

Here’s a getaway, Richie. You can play it off as prank, Richie. You can still walk away from this without completely ruining a friendship, Richie. Please take the opportunity, Richie.

 Richie: you don’t get it

 Shut the fuck up, Richie.

 Spaghetti <3: What?

 Richie: well

Richie: actually

Richie: you see

Spaghetti <3: Richie, spit it out you’re stressing me

Richie: right

Richie: you see

Spaghetti <3: You’ve said that before

Richie: correct I see your point Eds

Spaghetti <3: Not my name

Richie: the thing is

Richie: jesus I hope you forgive me

Richie: okay so

Richie: i don’t have a crush on you

Richie: i’m pretty sure that I love you

 There’s about a million smooth ways to say that you love someone. But Richie doesn’t choose one of those. Fitting.

It takes a few minutes before Eddie says something back. In those minutes, Richie starts crying.

 Spaghetti <3: Oh

It’s as vague as it can get, but one can take the hint.

Richie: i’m sorry

Spaghetti <3: You don’t have to apologize

Spaghetti <3: How long..?

 Richie: uh, since March?

 Which is a lie.

 Spaghetti <3: That’s a long time…

 Richie wants to laugh, then scream, then he wants to be able to stop crying.

 Spaghetti <3: Can we still be friends?

 On second thought, he doesn’t want to laugh.

 Richie: only if you still want to Spaghetti <3: Of course I want to Rich

Spaghetti <3: Don’t even say that

 Well, that’s good.

Richie: well that’s good

Richie: i’m sorry Eddie

Spaghetti <3: Don’t apologize asshole

Spaghetti <3: It’s fine I swear

 And then a few more minutes.

 Spaghetti <3: Happy new year

  The phone gets thrown, landing somewhere along the end of the bed. The blurry digital clock on his bedside table says it’s already 1:13 a.m. and by its side lays Charlie the goldfish’s tank.

It’s small, but it’s not a fishbowl. Richie learnt that lesson with his first goldfish, Oli. Poor her.

He follows Charlie’s swimming around a rock. A fish’s life seems peaceful and blissful and delightful and wonderful and many other adjectives ending in ‘ful’. Except for Oli’s life, of course. At this moment Richie’s life feels pretty much like Oli’s.

He sighs through another wet sob.

“Happy fucking new year, Charlie.”

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[wordsasweapons112]

On Literary and Real World Violence: A Response to Morrison, Laymon and Faulkner

I’ve been in school for two weeks now, and literary violence is at the forefront of my mind.

Toni Morrison’s collection of criticism, Playing In The Dark: Whiteness in the Literary Imagination, has been a faithful companion since the beginning of the semester. Morrison is adamant about education. Her eloquence and grace seeps off the pages, defining African Americanism (“an investigation into the ways...a nonwhite, Africanlike (or Aficanist) presence or persona was constructed in the United States'' (6)), its place in Western literature, and the impact of harmful representation. Morrison speaks for those pushed into the role of “The Other” in America, and, consequently, in America’s great novels as well.

Kiese Laymon begins his essay, “I Am A Big Black Man Who Will Never Own A Gun Because I Know I Would Use It,” addressing this idea as well, zeroing in on the personal impact of one of the country’s most treasured writers.

Laymon describes his fascination with William Faulkner, who is often viewed as a father of the literary subgenre, southern gothic. As a teenager, Laymon read all of his novels, and felt that Faulkner was one of the more progressive writers of the early 20th century. Laymon was encouraged by his mother and teachers to strive for work adjacent to his; the writer could essentially “protect [him], ironically, from white men, white men’s power, and all men’s bullets.” However, as Laymon grew up, he saw that despite Faulkner’s intentions, he was tired of “white writers who simply could not see, hear, love, or imagine black folk as part of, or central to, their audience.”

“I Am A Big Black Man Who Will Never Own A Gun Because I Know I Would Use It” was written in between visits to Faulkner’s home in northern Mississippi. Laymon finished a draft on the front porch, taking note of how he could see the house of Callie Barr, the Faulkner family’s help, from his peripheral. Laymon studied the relationship between Faulkner and Barr from a vantage point of nearly a century, documenting his findings in his essay. Barr, who passed away in 1940, left an impression on the novelist, who delivered a heartfelt eulogy at her funeral, speaking of her fidelity to his kin as if she were one of the family. He addressed Barr’s “devotion and love for people she had not borne” straightforwardly.

When reading this, I couldn’t help but think of Dilsey, the Black help in Faulkner’s 1929 novel The Sound and the Fury. Now aware of Barr’s life, I can see the influence of the loyalty that Faulker felt she employed. Dilsey, along with her sons and grandsons, care for the fictional Compson family; particularly the youngest child, Benjy, who is mentally disabled and depends on her well into adulthood. Fidelity to the family comes up frequently, and is extremely problematic. It’s what Laymon later reflects upon, understanding that “black fidelity and devotion to white families that are not our own are a terrifying part of our story in this nation.”

Laymon’s essay is not necessarily a piece of literary criticism. It is a vitally important call to action to end the violence against Black people in our country. He writes of America as a “desperate culture,” where ego and destruction come before the safety and livelihood of our children. For Black, brown, and indigenous children, this complex is a matter of life and death (“...why a nation that parades its big guns thinks it has the moral authority to audaciously tell its children and its black folk what to do with their little guns”). For white children, it is the risk of “moral annihilation;” the fear of being caught, of having an image tainted when they end up making headlines for racist or murderous acts. I think of the Kenosha shooter now, of seeing childhood pictures of him on my Twitter feed, holding an AK-47, with dreams of joining the police force at the forefront of his mind. White children grow up with the comfort of knowing they have the police on their side. They have the ability to own firearms before they are out of grade school. They have the ability to use them to kill, and still sleep in their beds that night.

They have the privilege of returning to their lives; the privilege of another day.

In a piece written shortly after Emmett Till’s death, Faulkner wrote, “If we in America have reached that point in our desperate culture when we must murder children, no matter for what reason or what color, we don’t deserve to survive, and probably won’t.” Laymon criticizes this overly optimistic view; they are words that are still on our minds today, and that still aren’t compensated for. He writes, “Faulkner would have known that you cannot love any child in the United States of America if you refuse to accept that this nation was born of a maniacal commitment to the death, destruction, and suffering of black, brown, and indigenous children...Faulkner would have accepted that there has never been a time in this desperate nation’s history when American grown folk have refused to murder children.”

To make this country a better place for those who come after us—to make it a place that meets basic rights—we have to advocate and fight for those who have been left behind. We have to fight for everyone to have the chance to begin again; to wake up in the morning in their own beds and carry on another day. But, as Layman states, “If we really wanted to make this country less violent, we would tell the truth.” The truth is an accurate representation of marginalized bodies in the art we make. The truth is creating space for those bodies.

Though Faulkner was once a staple of Layman’s education, he is aware of the importance of nothing where gaps lay. Faulkner was still a white man who used derogatory language in his prose, and his Black characters were still representative of a harmful past. He isn’t the only one. I’m reminded of some of America’s most prized pieces of pop culture: Gone With The Wind, Flannery O’Connor’s short stories, amongst countless others. The list is grossly incomplete.

I’m aware there is actual physical violence happening in the world; it is why I am writing this essay instead of being in class. But in the context of Layman’s devotion to exploring a literary past—and as a student studying literature and how to, hopefully, write my own one day—we have to acknowledge the violence that occurs on the page as well. Morrison paints the picture clearly. It occurs within the words actually printed; in the harmful descriptions of those of us viewed as Others. It occurs when the words are forgotten; an erasure that speaks without words.

There is a truth that needs to be told. Layman emphasizes that, “if we bring [it] into every space we enter, every space we long to bring a gun...our children will not be safe, but they will eventually be safer and far less addicted to violence than we are.”

As artists, it is our job to make our work inclusive. I was once a child of words, and am coming into my own as a young adult yearning to weave her truths within them. Literature has been my safe haven since around the time Layman first discovered Faulkner. And, like him, I no longer want to fall victim to the metaphorical gun resting just outside the page.

We have a responsibility to create art that speaks to more than some. We have the ability to help reconstruct what we’ve been taught. The call for creatives in the modern age is to make work that goes against the American concept of violence, for American violence seeps into every aspect of everything we do. It is in our language, our novels, our records.

The question is not whether we can, or have the ability, to begin; it is whether we are willing to do so. Layman proposes an important question: “Do you care enough about the children of this country to begin divesting from all forms of American violence?”

Our silence can sometimes speak just as loud as those firing guns.

Originally written in September 2020.