#Oh boy I love staring 15 different bed frames that look exactly the same

[tilseptemberends]

I love being a grown-up. I just blew half of my paycheck on a new bed.

Because I'm cool and exciting like that 😎

[violetsoju]

airport

kuroo tetsurou · fluff · 2.2k

warning: slight suggestive theme, mild language, characters are aged-up

a/n: did i write this on impulse because i still can’t believe i was actually in this situation? maybe. did i write this as a manifestation of having a kuroo to bitch about and assure me? maybe too. did i get more encouraged to write this after reading a discussion in a server on bra sizes and brand recommendations a few days ago? maybe three.

“Kuroo, I’m serious. Stop laughing.”

A distinct cackling laughter from the speaker of your phone fills the four walls of your bathroom, along with a lazy lopsided grin flashing on the screen that’s perched on the wall mounted shelf next to the sink.  

“But you’re making it so hard not to! Plus, you’re supposed to brush your teeth for two minutes, not talk and brush your teeth at the same time for two minutes.” Kuroo reasons, laughter turning into soft chuckles.

“Sorry babe, but I didn’t catch anything you said just now because you sounded like a fish blubbing underwater, except you’re blubbing white foam instead of bubbles.”

He finds it hard not to grin like a fool at your figure from his side of the screen, hands on your hips with a toothbrush stuffed in your puffed-up cheeks, hair pushed back with an elmo headband that he finds ugly yet cute because of the two ridiculously huge eyes dangling on top.

You mumble something yet inaudible while wiping away the drool of toothpaste dripping down the side of your mouth, a small pout dotting your lips.

“Rinse up and tell me from the top again once you’re done, alright?” Kuroo sighs, shaking his head adoringly as he manages to make out a ‘fine’ out of the string of muffled sounds from you.

And do you listen to him completely? Of course not. So he rests his left cheek on his palms, humming to the bits of information you try to squeeze in without accidentally swallowing tap water while cleansing your face.

The white tiles in the background shift to cream walls shakily, along with the shuffling sounds of room slippers against the wooden flooring. “Then as we were walking towards the karaoke place, I somehow fell behind the rest and ended up beside him. And guess what happened?”

“He confessed to you?” He jokes, oblivious to where this is heading, yet.

“God, I’d rather that happen.” You take a seat in front of your study desk filled with skincare products tucked on the side, placing your phone against the wall. “Instead, he called out to me, which I turn to him and find him looking at my boobs, saying ‘oh, its nothing’,”

Kuroo visibly flinches a little, eyebrows furrowed in disgust, eyes widening slightly, like he just tasted a sip of milk that has gone bad. “Excuse me?”

“He was looking at my boobs, Kuroo. My boobs. Shamelessly. Saying ‘oh, its nothing’. What the heck?” You mentally thank yourself for not opening the cover of the toner in your hand, to save the mess you would have made from all the expressive hand gestures.

“And you were wearing your usual tank top, right?” He smacks his lips together, as if trying to get rid of the bad aftertaste.

“Yeah, the usual square neck rib knit tank top that I always wear.” He tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion. Your wardrobe of tops flashing through his head. “The one that you don’t understand why I own a several pieces in different colours. That one.” A long ‘oh’ resonates through the speakers, the particular top emerging from the sea of clothing.

Kuroo processes the image for a few seconds. “That’s not revealing at all.”

“Exactly! It’s like the most basic thing? There’s tons of girls out there who wear the similar thing as me too.” You tap your toner onto your face with your hands. “And I was even wearing a jacket on top of it? It’s not like I was fully exposed or something. But even if I didn’t have my jacket on, I don’t see how it’s taken as a sign to stare brazenly like that. I wear whatever the heck I want to make myself feel and look good, not for someone else to ogle at, unable to keep their raging hormones in check.”

He hums in agreement. “What did you do or say to him then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what made me so pissed at that moment either.” You sigh, reaching out for your wash-off mugwort mask. “I snapped at him, telling him that when he talks to girls, he should be looking at them in the eye, not at their boobs.”  

“That’s my girl.” Kuroo flashes his signature cheshire-grin. “What did he say then?”

Your lips purse together, recalling the situation. “I don’t think he even heard me. Partly because you know how I rush through words like I’m rapping when I’m mad.”

“Told you to apply for that rap competition show on tv.”

“Kuroo.” Your glare earns an apology and light-hearted chuckles. “Another reason why I don’t think he heard me was because he actually had the balls to sit next to me during the karaoke session.” His eyebrows arch at the statement. “To which I dragged Mizuki to sit next to me and he got pushed to the side with the other guys.”

He huffs through his nose with a tinge of frustration, fingers running through his dishevelled hair. “How old is he again?”

“20, I think. But still, that’s no excuse for being so disrespectful towards girls and women. He’s already a full-grown adult for crying out loud.” You set the timer to 15 minutes on your phone, shuffling to your bed. “Out of all the boys I’ve met that are of his age or back when we were his age, I’ve never met such a disrespectful guy. In this area of discussion, I mean.”

“You mean you haven’t met such a horny monkey before.” Kuroo summarises. You snort at his remark, making yourself comfortable under the covers while waiting for the mask to work its magic.

“So you’re mad that he looked at your boobs.”

You place your phone between your folded knees, slouching against the bed frame. “Of course I am. It’s a violation against my body. How the fuck does he think he’s entitled to look at someone blatantly like that? Imagine someone staring at your dick like its nothing.”

The stupid cocky smirk appears on screen again. “Not gonna lie, but I would be proud. Or amused.”

“Freak.” You scoff, scrunching your nose at his reply.

His amber eyes gleam under the dim lights through the screen. “You sure you’re not mad at anything else?” He prods, not letting you off the hook.

“I guess I’m so mad because I never expected this to happen to me. I mean, look at me. What’s there to look at when I’m basically as flat as an airport?” You gesture to your breasts, ignoring his ‘you’re exaggerating’ interjection. “I would understand if he was staring at someone voluptuous or well-blossomed. But what’s the point of staring at a wall so flat there’s no cracks or dents in between?”

Kuroo’s sharp yet soft features settle into a knowing look. “So there is something else that you’re mad at.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That is?”

“You’re upset that your boobs are small.”

Your eyes take a 360-degree turn, huffing exasperatedly. “I’m not. I’m happy with the way they are.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

His firm discerning expression in the 10-second-long stare off has you heaving a long sigh in defeat. “I mean, there are times which I wish they would be just a little bigger…” You hesitantly admit, biting the inside of your lips. “So I don’t have to rely on push-up bras that much. And they would look nicer in wireless bras… Or in deep v neck cuts… Or plunge dresses…”

“Babe, they’re perfect with the way they are now.” Kuroo’s words doesn’t come out as pity or consolation; it’s filled with raw honesty and sincerity.

You glance down at the soft flesh beneath your oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Kuroo. “I know, but sometimes you can’t help but want more, right?”

“I understand, it’s natural.” He nods in acknowledgment. “But we have to be grateful with what we have, don’t we?”

A soft smile tugs the corner of his lips at the sight of your pout. “You’re right. Why did I get myself so worked up just because of one horny monkey when I have such an amazing and supportive boyfriend?” His lips curl up with a little more pride at you remembering and reusing his little remark.

“At your service, always. And ever ready to chase off any horny monkeys in sight.” He places his hands to his eyebrows as a salute dramatically, earning a hearty laugh from you.

“Question time. On the bright side, don’t you save more on bras because they require lesser fabric than bigger sizes? Less fabric, less production cost?”

“If only it were like that, Kuroo. You know what, we’re going bra shopping for our next date.”

“May I be granted the honour of choosing the fine piece of garment?” He places his hand over his right chest.

You hold onto your imaginary ruffled dress in the air, dropping into a mid-curtsy. “If I have the honourable chance to be blessed by your gracious kindness to pay for it, be my guest.”

“Of course, m’lady.” He bows curtly, giving you a flirtatious wink.

You giggle at his sappiness. “Okay my turn. Aren’t you jealous that you don’t have the chance to hold them like other boyfriends do for their busty girlfriends when their boobs swell and get sore during their periods?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. “It’s not like that’s the only time I get to touch them.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Pervert.” You gasp, covering your breasts with your arms.  

The timer on your phone beeps, signaling it’s time for you to wash off your mask.

“Didn’t take you to be a boob person. Thought you were more of a butt person.” You place your phone back on the wall mounted shelf in the bathroom, turning on the tap water to run.

“I’m neither. Because I’m a you person, your person. A person that loves you as a whole, not by parts.” You swear you can see him giving you that smug grin of his with your face submerged with water, washing off the remaining residue.

“You know, maybe God deliberately blessed you with a lesser amount in this aspect.”  His voice echoes through the speakers.

You reach out to your face towel hanging next to the sink and place gentle pats on your face. “And why is that?”

“Because God knew that you’d be unstoppable if you were blessed in all aspects. I mean, look at you. You’re already slaying it despite your fun-sized boobs.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva from the fits of laughter at his comment. “What the hell, Kuroo. No one calls a C cup and below fun-sized.”

“If people call those below the height of 160cm fun-sized, I don’t see why I can’t do the same with breast sizes.” He reasons with a nonchalant face.

“Fine, fun-sized boobs they are.” You give in, switching off the bathroom lights. “Your drop-dead gorgeous kick-ass girlfriend has fun-sized boobs.”

“And I love it. That’s what makes her special too.” He adds, face full-on smitten with love.

“Shut up, cheesy conman.” You chuckle softly, your face a mirror image of his.

“Well, you chose one yourself. No refunds.” The coolness of your moisturizer helps soothe the warmth blossoming across your cheeks, but not the warmth spreading throughout your chest like a cosy fireplace on a cold winter day.

【☾】

Zero and one digits flash on the top right of the screen, signalling it’s way past your bedtime. You’ve been on the phone with Kuroo for close to two hours, no wonder you feel yourself drifting to sleep each second. Kuroo senses it too, from the way your eyes twitch and lose focus.

“Alright, last question before we wrap up for today. When are you hanging out with them again?” He asks, stifling a yawn.  

You let out a yawn as well, stretching your arm over your head, popping a few bones. “I don’t know, but I may skip if he’s tagging along.”

“Nope, we’re going together. Me and you.” Kuroo states matter-of-factly with droopy eyes.

You rub your eyes that has been lidded with sleep. “What if you’re busy on that day like today?”

“Then I’ll just clear my schedule for the day. Gotta show the lil boy who owns this airport.” His deep voice croaking through the speakers of your phone.

“Airport?” You question, confused at his statement, wondering if sleep has started to take over your sense of hearing.

“Airport.” He gestures at his tiddies sleepily.

“Kuroo…” Your distressed groan doesn’t stop him from his babble.

“Gotta show to him that it’s a private one too, not some public area that’s available to any common folk like him. Right, babe?”

a/n: in Chinese, there’s a saying of calling flat chested girls or girls with small boobs as 飞机场, which means airport because the airport runway is flat. so it’s like one’s chest is so flat that it can run the plane lmao. all sizes are precious, don’t get me wrong. this is purely for entertainment purposes

shoutout to @moonboohoo​ for being my irl Mizuki that day ily ❤️

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 7 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return. 

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.1k

Part 7 - Gift Giving

“So this is the last part of the house. The bedrooms,” you said, after giving Tom a quick tour around the mansion. “The guestroom is right at the end of the hallway.”

Tom peered towards the half-open door to the guestroom, that the house-elves were preparing for him.

“This right there is Elsie’s room, next to it is the master bedroom. And this,” you said, leaning onto a door. “Is my room.”

He turned back to you.

“Want to come in?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

There was a sense of excitement in the air, letting Tom enter your room. It was something so private, it felt like you let him walk straight into your head. But you wanted to be nice. He still seemed crushed from the argument he had had with his grandfather and uncle and you thought it would make him feel better if you showed him he was welcome here. 

“Take a seat if you want. Anywhere,” you said and went over to sit on your bed.

Tom slowly walked across the room towards your desk, his eyes incidentally scanning your belongings. He sat down on the chair by the desk and looked at the framed picture of you and your family that stood there.

“Sorry about my mother,” you mentioned when you noticed what he was inspecting.

Tom looked at you. “What do you mean?”

“She can be a bit brash, you know. When she asked you to stay earlier. But she usually means well.”

“Oh,” he spoke. “I didn’t mind actually. You know my family. They’re brash. And not the good kind.”

“Fair,” you agreed. “Have they always been that way?” 

“Since I can remember at least.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“I’m sorry,” you then said. 

“For what? That’s just how it is. They have their ways and I have mine.”

“Right. Did you know they would bring up the unbreakable vow?“

“No… I had no idea. They’re idiots. Just stupid. Why ask for more each time? They always want to be a step ahead for nothing.”

“What did you say to them?” you asked, hiding that you already knew.

“That I wouldn’t do it. They took our word for it then and that should be enough. They can’t force us to do a vow.”

“Are they mad at you?”

“Yes. But they’ll come around. It wasn’t our first argument and it won’t be our last.”

You pondered if you should say what you were thinking. Maybe it was a bit too much, but Tom didn’t seem bothered talking about his family. So you went on: “Do you ever wish it could have been different? To grow up with your parents, I mean. That would have made it easier, don’t you think?”

Tom smiled weakly, his eyes wandered across the floor and he shook his head. “Wishing for something won’t make it happen. And no. It would have been quite the same, I think. Maybe even worse.”

“Worse?”

“You’ve heard how Marvolo talks about my parents. His daughter and a muggle. A stain in the bloodline he said, didn’t he?” Tom chuckled lowly.

“But if they loved each other that shouldn’t have mattered to him.”

His eyebrows rose in what looked like a strange form of amusement. “Well, that’s a whole other story.”

You frowned. What did that even mean? You had heard all kinds of rumours about the Gaunt family and how Tom’s parents had met but never would have thought that one of them might be true. 

“Have they-”

Tom shook his head as he got up, making it clear that he wasn’t going to talk about it. He walked across the room towards you, fiddling something out from the inner pocket of his jacket. 

You had gone too far apparently and wondered if he was pulling out his wand or wanted to leave, but as you opened your mouth again, he sat down beside you and looked into your eyes.

“I’m going to tell you,” he said. “Not now though. You’re going to know everything about me eventually. Someday.”

“Someday then,” you repeated. “What have you got there?”

He held the thing from his jacket in his hand now. It was a package that seemed a bit squished as if it had barely fit into the pocket.

“Hold on,” he said and waved his wand at it, to smooth out the wrinkles on the paper. It was a present, a rectangular box, covered in dark green gift wrap.

“I thought it would be impolite to come over for lunch without bringing at least a little Christmas gift.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” you said as he handed over the present. 

“Go on, open it,” he said and motioned with his hand.

So you did and quickly found out what the package contained. A small handwritten book, full of potions recipes. 

“Nicked it from my uncle when he wasn’t looking,” Tom said. “So you better don’t mention it to him.”

“Oh great,” you laughed as you flipped through it. “Wow, I haven’t heard of any of these.”

“None of them are taught in school. I thought you’d like them. Didn’t seem like the ones we do with Slughorn were much of a challenge for you.”

The book looked as if it had been used a lot. The thin black binder was frayed and faded, and the edges of the pages were crinkled. On every other page, the handwriting changed, so it seemed that many different people had written the recipes. Poisons, antidotes and bewitchments you had never heard of were all listed, neatly explained and completed with full lists of ingredients.

“Where did your uncle get this from?” you asked, still looking through it.

“I’m not sure. Knockturn Alley perhaps, or on some market. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had added a few ones himself.”

As peculiar as it was, not many people could say they got a book of dark magic and probably illegal potions for Christmas.

“What an unusual gift. I do like it. Thank you, really!” you said and opened your arms to hug him, out of pure habit, but froze when you saw his stern expression, your arms still open. 

He looked into your eyes again, seemed to think for a moment and finally nodded to let you hug him. Just like when you had held hands, he was stiff and rigid, it felt like he was uncomfortable. You retracted, but as soon as you let go, he wrapped his arms around you and held you a little tighter, extending the embrace for a few more seconds.

There was a ghost of a smile on his face when you sat back straight and he was about to say something when the door flew open.

Tummy, one of the house-elves, stood in the door frame. “Miss, the guestroom is ready. Mister Riddle, Sir, please follow me.”

“Great,” Tom whispered sarcastically under his breath, got up and followed the elf.

You quickly hid the book under your pillow and called after them: “It’d be nice if you could knock next time, Tummy!”

“Sorry Miss! Will knock!” you heard him from the hallway.

When Mother called for dinner in the evening you picked up Tom from the guest room and went downstairs. 

Sitting at the table together was a bit awkward at first and no one said anything. It seemed that your parents were still thinking of the incident from lunch, but didn’t want to talk about it in front of Tom. You didn’t know what to say either and Tom wasn’t one to talk much in general.

“Tom?” Elsie said all of a sudden, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” he answered and you looked back and forth between the two.

“Did you know I’ll go to Hogwarts too next term?” Elsie went on, a very proud tone in her voice.

He grinned while picking up some green beans with his fork. “I did know that, yes.”

“I haven’t gotten the letter yet, so technically I don’t know if I’ll get in, but my parents said it will come on my eleventh birthday.”

“I’m sure it will.”

He had barely finished his last word when Elsie asked the next thing. 

“What’s your favourite subject?”

“Um… Defence Against The Dark Arts, I think,” Tom said. “It’s interesting enough.”

“Why?”

“Well,” he took a second to think. “I like to be prepared.”

“And you’re in Slytherin, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Do you have a favourite house?” 

You caught your parents exchanging looks and smiling at each other.

“Um… Well,” Elsie began. “I think they’re all nice. But Gryffindor is the best I guess.”

Tom clicked his tongue and shook his head jokingly. “Shame,” he said.

“Do you play Quidditch?” Elsie asked.

“No, I’m not into sports.”

“But can you fly?”

“Yes, I’m a decent flyer.”

She looked at your parents for a moment and whispered to Tom: “Do you think you can show me? How to fly a broom. I got one for Christmas, you see. And I-”

“Elsie,” Father said laughing. “Let the boy eat, please.”

“No, I can show you,” Tom said. “It’s the least I can do to show my respect after you’re letting me stay here.”

“That’s very kind of you Tom,” Mother said. “And you can stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you. I won’t bother you for long though,” he answered.

Dessert was served and Elsie peppered Tom with questions about brooms until Father finally told her to leave him alone. 

You thought of the book he had gifted you and knew that your parents would be pleased to hear that at least one member of the Gaunt family had manners. They didn’t need to know exactly what it was about. 

“Tom gave me a Christmas present earlier,” you said.

He shot you a quick look as if to ask you if you were out of your mind telling your parents about this. You ignored him.

“Oh really?” Father asked. “What is it?”

“A Potions book. Handwritten. It looks very rare,” you said and looked at Tom who was still staring at you. “It’s like an extended version of our school books. I can use it to perfect my skills. Maybe I’ll even get an O on my N.E.W.T.s because of it.”

“Oh lovely,” Mother said. “Where have you got that from?”

“Diagon Alley,” Tom lied and seemed to be more relaxed now.

“Very nice,” Mother said and turned towards you. “But you didn’t have anything for him, did you?” 

“No,” you mumbled.

“Well, let’s talk about that another time. Tom, have you heard about the time when we went on a trip to Italy?”

Later that night, when you lay in bed, you pulled the book out from under your pillow and held it for a while. It probably wasn’t even meant to be so special, but the fact that Tom had thought of giving you a present for Christmas, was not what you would have expected.

And you hadn’t even wasted a single thought about getting him something. How ignorant. 

You wondered how he felt about that. If he even felt about that, one way or another.

Your fingertip ran up and down the book spine countless times while you stared up onto the ceiling. You had to get him something. Something special.

And then you wondered if he couldn’t sleep either. If he wanted to talk for just a bit as well. If he thought about lying next to you, too. You could try to sneak out of your room and over to the guest room. Your parents wouldn’t like that of course, but you were going to marry him. They had to get used to the thought. And if you were quiet enough, they wouldn’t even notice.

You sat up slowly, put the book back under your pillow and tiptoed to the door of your room. Turning the doorknob as quietly as possible and holding your breath, you looked out into the dark hallway. You wouldn’t even need light, you knew this hallway like the back of your hand. Fifteen, maybe twenty quick steps and you would be right by the door to the guest room. So you took the first step out of your room.

“Miss!” a squeaky voice whispered in the dark from below. 

It was Tummy, standing there alone. 

“Tummy?” you asked quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“Miss, master told Tummy to keep watch all night. So that Mister Riddle wouldn’t disturb you in your room.”

Great. Your parents were a few steps ahead. 

“Can Tummy get you anything, Miss?”

“No, I… I just thought I heard something,” you sighed. “Does Father really force you to stay up all night? You can go downstairs to sleep if you want to.”

“No, Miss, no,” the elf said and smiled. “Tummy sleeps right here on the floor. I have very good ears, yes. I hear every little noise, you see? I will wake up whenever I hear something and alert the masters.”

Unbelievable. They had thought of everything.

“I see,” you said. “But I’m not afraid Tom would disturb me. You really can go downstairs.”

“Miss, Tummy is thankful for your offer, but I must follow the master's order. Tummy doesn’t mind it.”

“Alright then,” you gave up. “Hang on though.”

You went back into your room, walked up to your bed and fetched one of the three pillows from there. 

“Take this at least,” you told the elf and gave him the pillow. “It’s big enough for you to sleep on.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. Please.”

“I insist,” you said with a jokingly strict tone.

Tummy smiled, took the pillow and nodded. “Thank you, Miss. Tummy is very grateful.”

“Good night, Tummy.

“Good night, Miss.”

The following day went by quicker than you had wanted it to. Father, Tom and Elsie went outside in the late morning to give Elsie her long-awaited flying lessons. They were a great team, against all expectations. You watched them from the kitchen window and noticed how Father held himself back from helping. He kept a careful eye on the two when Tom showed Elsie how to mount the broom correctly.

Elsie listened intently to everything Tom told her, tried to follow each step precisely and could properly hold herself in the air after a while. Father and Tom seemed incredibly proud, not only of themselves but of your little sister.

You could have watched them for hours, but Mother had called you to the reading room, to go to Diagon Alley via the Floo Network. You had asked her to take her with you since you wanted to get some new quills for school and a proper Christmas present for Tom.

Thankfully Diagon Alley wasn’t too busy, yet it took you a while to find an appropriate gift. You hadn’t even known where to start looking, but when you finally saw it in the shop window, you knew it was perfect.

Back home, Elsie, Father and Tom were just walking back inside, their cheeks and noses all plump from the hours they had spent out in the cold. Elsie jumped through the living room excitedly and told Mother and you how high up she was able to fly now. She had even attempted to do some advanced twists but almost had taken a fall.

Father patted Tom on the shoulder and thanked him for his time, which made Tom’s ears turn almost as pink as his cheeks and nose.

After congratulating your sister on her achievement, you turned to Tom and said: “Would you follow me? There’s something I want to show you.”

You took him to the reading room, where the parcel you got him stood under the desk.

“Long day, huh?” you asked when you closed the door behind you.

He nodded. “Long but successful. Your sister is a quick learner. She could make it on the Quidditch team one day.”

“Thank you for teaching her,” you said. “We all appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Now that you were with him, you didn’t know where to start. Should you tell him about lying in bed with the book in your hand, thinking of him? That you almost would have knocked on his door in the middle of the night, if Tummy had not been there? That could sound terribly invasive. What if he wouldn’t have wanted you to come? Now that you thought about it, you were glad that Tummy had spoiled your plan. Nighttime certainly made you too reckless.

“I hope you slept well,” you mumbled mindlessly. Merlin, why would you say that?

“I um…” Tom looked at you surprisedly. “Yes, I did.”

“Good.”

“If it wasn’t for the elf in the hallway, it would have been even better,” Tom added nonchalantly.

How would he also know about Tummy? Did he leave his room too? You scanned him questioningly and Tom smirked.

“Father is overprotective,” you answered. 

“Shame, isn’t it?”

“Certainly.”

You looked at each other, both with mischievous smiles on your faces. It would not have been awkward at all if you had gone over to his room last night. Tummy be damned.

“I thought of your present a lot,” you went on, changing the subject. “And I decided I had to get you something as well.”

“Not necessary. Your family let me stay the night, that’s more than en-”

“Stop it,” you snapped playfully and went to get the parcel from under the table. “There’s not a lot of things I thought suited Tom Riddle. But this does, I believe.”

He took the box with both hands, as it was quite big, placed it onto the desk and pulled off the top.

“Oh,” he breathed when he looked inside.

“Her name is Nagini. She’s not fully grown yet.”

Tom took a dark green, medium-sized snake out of the box and let it curl around his arm. 

“Did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“That I’m a Parselmouth.”

“Yes,” you nodded. “People in Hogwarts were talking about it years ago and then I thought of your house and your relation to Salazar Slytherin. It made sense.”

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, looking into your eyes before he watched Nagini gliding from one of his arms to the other. “Stretch out your arm for me.”

You did and let your fingers touch his. Both of you now stood there with one arm pointing towards each other. The snake slithered around Tom’s arm, quickly making its way towards his outstretched fingers and over to yours. It hissed quietly while wandering up to your shoulder.

“She likes you,” Tom said softly. “A lot.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Credit where credit is due: My boyfriend came up with the house-elf’s name. I don’t know where that came from but I won’t make him stop. He also gave him a short backstory. I might try to implement it into the story line if you’re interested.

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[futurewriter2000]

If we are not this, then what are we? - pt. 15 - final part

A/N: Well, there it is. The final product. I haven’t read it through. I’m so tired- I’m so so tired.  I think I’m gonna make an epilogue as well to explain a bit further but ooh, am I tired. 

XX

Did you know that soulmates exist in all different shapes? You can find a soulmate in your lover, close friend, stranger, family, even in your own mother or father. 

Will was your soulmate. He was. He still is because even if your soulmate passes away, they can still stay in your life as a spiritual guide. 

Will told you that when he asked you if you believed in soulmates. 

You could remember the day so clearly; both of you were studying for Arithmancy test in his dorm. He was poking you all the time as you tried to concentrate on the material. When you sent him a glare and he was still smiling at you with his childish innocence, he asked you that question. When you told him that soulmates was a fairytale, he told you otherwise. 

He told you that day the two of you were soulmates and if he dies far in the future, he’ll stay by your side as your spritiual guide. He’ll be that angel on your shoulder, showing you the way, guiding you on the right path, being there when you’re in your worse and there when you’re at your best. 

You doubted him. 

‘ “How will I know?” you asked, quirking him an eyebrow.

“You will have to believe.” he winked, pulling himself on his elbows as he continued to see the disbelief you. “Okay- how about?” he got on his knees and looked around the room. He narrowed his eyes at his nightstand drawer and made his way to open it. It was messy, filled with papers and junk until he dug his hand into it, searched and pulled it out a small bronze key on a bronze chain. “See this?” he lifted it up in the air. 

“It’s a key.”

“It’s not just any key. It’s the key to my journal when I was like- six or seven.”

“UUU!” you reached to grab it but he quickly stepped back and started to laugh.

“I don’t know where the journal is- I think I threw it away because it was too cringey.” he continued to laugh. “But there were two keys for it. I gave one to Davie.”

“And you’re giving this one to me?” you wiggled your eyebrows, trying to reach again as he stepped back, holding up his index finger.

“Not quite.” he unclipped the necklace and put it around his neck, clipping it back until it hung around his neck. “Originally there were two keys- you know? In case if I lost one, which I did and now I have this one-”

“But you don’t have the journal?”

“Your point?”

“If you don’t have the journal, why keep the keys?”

“Aesthetic?” he shrugged and you laughed. “Anyways it isn’t about the journal. It’s about what I wrote in the journal. This key didn’t open just a book. It opened my thoughts and secrets-”

“What kind of secrets could you have at six years old?” you laughed, throwing yourself back on the pillows. 

“HEY!” 

“Dear diary, today I rang Mrs. Fotak’s doorbell and ran away. Living on the edge.” you joked and laughed as he stared at you, narrowing his eyes at your mocking.

“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” 

“I pretty much think so.” you continued to giggle. 

“It wasn’t a diary. IT WAS A JOURNAL.”

“Sorry, sorry.” you cleared your throat. “Dear journal, I farted today in kindergarten. Nobody noticed.” 

“You’re such an asshole.” he shook his head, unable to keep his laugh inside. 

“Still think I’m your soulmate.” 

“Oh, without a doubt.” ‘ 

You stood on the doormate as finally someone has opened the door. From your thoughts to reality, you were faced with two saddened grey eyes. “(y/n)!” he exclaimed, clearly surprised by your sudden appearance. “Wh- what are you doing here?” 

You forced a big smile on your face, lifting up the plate of baked goods you made today. “Hey, Sirius. Brought some carbs for you and the Potters.” you said as he invited you in, moving to the side and watching you with the quirk of his eyebrow. 

“You bake?” he asked, walking after you. Clearly, you knew the way to the kitchen. Despite in the years you haven’t stepped in this house, you still knew exactly where everything was. They didn’t change a thing. 

“Actually not so much. Just started- If I’m going to live in my own apartment and maybe a house some day, I need to get more culinary experiance.” you placed the plate on the counter and sat behind it. 

Sirius smiled, walking over and getting to the fridge. “Banana juice?” he pulled out the flask and your eyes lit out. 

How did he know? 

“James is obsessed with it.” he laughed as he poured it in the glass and brought it too you. “He said you introduced him to this heavinly beverage.” he winked, pouring himself a glass as well and sitting next to you. There was silence as he only continued to look at you, both hearing  only the crickets and the summer wind outside this house.  “Why are you really here, (y/n)?” he asked, bringing you the safety and comfort with his eyes. 

You could see now why James was friends with him. He really was a good man. 

“I really did not like to cook when I was a teen.” you smiled, tapping your fingers on the glass and watching the bubbles on the surface. “Will loved it.” you looked back up. “Especially if something worried him, he went into the kitchen and started cooking, baking and making all sorts of dishes.” you smiled, reminiscing of the messy Hufflepuff in the kitchen. “I guess I wanted to see if it worked. Clearly, it’s great coping mechanism.” you glanced at the plate and Sirius smiled, unwrapping the foil and taking a bite into one of the brownies. 

“It’s not bad.” he continued to chew, licking his lips as the crumbs kept falling down. 

“Not perfect yet.” you shrugged, leaning back and watching him eat the rest. “The first portion I made, I accidentally mixed baking powder with baking soda.”

“What’s the difference?” he asked, clearly more clueless about baking than you. 

“Let’s just say-” you laughed, remembering the final result of the failure and crying because of it. “- it didn’t end well.” 

He smiled with his mouth full of brown mass, clearly enjoying the sugar he was intaking. His eyes shone out some childish glint you haven’t noticed on him before. 

“Where’s you other half?” you asked, looking around the room. 

“He went to a job interview with Fleamont.” he rubbed his hands together, brushing off the crumbs. “I have it tomorrow.” 

“Oh, wow.” you were taken aback a bit. You didn’t know they would move on so quickly with the jobs. School only ended a few days ago. You thought they would enjoy more of the summer as they were both quite hyperactive teenage boys. 

“You seem surprised?” he smirked.

“I didn’t think- I mean, you and job responsibility. Sort of hard to imagine.” you teased and he laughed. 

“Hard to imagine it myself.” he stood up and walked to the sink, washing his hands. “How about you? Any job interviews?”

“No- not yet.” you smiled. “I think I’m going to take this summer off.” 

He turned around, drying his hands with a cloth as his eyes saddened again. “Is it...?” he stopped, trying to frame it into words but you understood him completely, nodding in return. “I’m sorry for what happened, (y/n).” he said, walking back to you again. “We might have our differences but he was one hell of a guy.” he smiled and you could feel the pressure in your eyes. “I didn’t ask but... how are you?” 

You swallowed thickly before answering, trying to mask the grief and the hurt you felt inside. “He told me we were soulmates.” your voice started to quiver without your permission and even thought you did not feel it, Sirius saw the tears that fell down your cheeks. He walked closer, opening his arms and pulling you in and despite who he was, his embrace felt more safe than anything- it felt as safe as it was with Will. 

You wrapped your arms around his broad chest and sobbed in. 

You didn’t feel pathethic or ashamed. You felt better now for the first time since Will’s death. 

“But if we were soulmates, wouldn’t we have had more time together?” you continued to cry, tugging his shirt under your fingers and squeezing him harder. “And Davie just left! He just disappeared into thin air after his death! He didn’t even show for the funreal!” 

Sirius put his hand on the back of your hand and let it rest there softly. “Will may be gone in his physical form but that does not mean his soul left you. He’s here, you just have to open your mind to it.” he said and now you did feel tears fall down your cheeks. 

You pulled away, watching into those grey eyes and trying to find a golden-brown colour in them. 

He felt like him. He felt so much like him. He even spoke in the same way as him, believed what Will believed. He reminded you so much of him- but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Will and that pissed you off.

James has his soulmate, alive and well, standing right in front of you, meanwhile your soulmate is dead and burried in the ground. 

More rage and eenvy boiled the grief inside of you. You couldn’t bare yourself to brake down in front of Sirius. Instead you bottled it up, ignored the lump in your throat and smiled through the pain. 

“Thank you, Sirius.” you nodded and started backing away. “For listening to me. You really did mature.” you started to joke as you backed away. “I have to go now but good luck on your interview tomorrow.” you walked to the door as he followed.

“(y/n)!” He called after you and you stopped, your hand resting on the doorknob as you looked over your shoulder with a soft simper. “He’s not the same since that day, James I mean...and... and-”

“Nobody is the same since that day, Sirius.” you forced a bigger smile, turning the door knob and opening the door. “It takes time, Sirius but he’ll come back... and so will I.” you nodded and left through the door, putting your hand over your mouth and muffling the sobs as you walked back to your house.

You locked yourself into your room and fell down on the floor. Your legs were numb just as that day. Crawling to your bed, you grabbed one of your pillows and started sobbing into it. 

It hurt so much more. It pained and ached- it felt like knives stabbing your organs. It schorched your body until it couldn’t bare to sit anymore, so to try and numb the pain you fell to your side an rocked yourself back and forth. 

Until you drowned in grief to the point you were so calm, you only felt your heart beat in your chest. Your eyes focused on this miniature spot on the wall. 

And there was nothing but that spot. That spot and you and it felt the most interesting and calming thing in the existance up until the moon came up and shone through the window and something caused your attention to turn on the brown bear next to that spot. 

You narrowed your eyes at the bear and noticed something glinging around its neck. 

Leaving the pillow behind you, you crawled up to the bear to discover the mystery glint around his neck. 

Your breath was taken away- you fell back on your ass but continued to stare at the bronze key, wrapped around it’s neck. 

You climbed back to the bear and took it into your hand. You turned it to see the metal a bit bent on the head of the key- 

‘ “I don’t get it.” you stared up at him as he groaned and hung his head and shoulders. 

“Look.” he sat down beside you, seriosness on his face. “When I die at the age of 140 years- “

“Because you’re healthy like a fish.” you rolled your eyes and he smiled.

“Exactly.” he opened your eyes, explaning further. “I’ll be burried with my key and when my body can’t handle this amazing soul of mine, my soul is gonna woosh through time and space, finding the other key and bringing it to you- just so I can prove you wrong.” 

“Not because you’re gonna look after me like a guardian angel?” you tilted your head as he shurgged.

“I mean that too but mostly to prove you wrong but seriously, all jokes aside. If anything does happen to me, especially with the war coming, I want you to know that -”

“Stop, Will.” you cut him off, placing your hands on top of his. “You won’t die. Neither will I and if what you say it’s true about these soulmates thing- than we wil both live to 140 years.” you smiled, then added. “So what does the other key look like?” you reached to his chest and pulled out his bronze key. “Like this one?” 

“Not quite. The other is a bit more used. It has a few scartches and the head is a bit more bent.” he took your hands and kissed your knuckles. “So when I do find it and bring it to you, I want you to put it around your neck. That way, I’ll always be with you- everywhere you go.” ‘

---

It was 3 in the morning the next day and you couldn’t bring yourself to fall asleep. Perhaps the reason behind it was the sleepless night before and all the nights since the graduation day. 

You stood up, stretching your arms and walking to the window. You opened it and peered through, watching the view and consuming the moonlight on your skin.

Some people soak in the sun but you prefered the moon over the sun. Sunny days were nice but moonlight was different. It has its own magic, the rare form that it can only be described in far away lands. 

You breathed in the summers breeze and opened you eyes with a smile. Turning away, you took a few steps back and closed the window back down but when you did, a familiar figure cought your eye. 

You opened the window yet again, narrowing your eyes at the figure in the distance. “James?” you muttered to yourself before closing the window again and facing it its back. 

Thoughts ran through your head, heartbeat rised faster than the sun and you squeezed your palm so the key dug into your skin. Until it pained, you realized that you held onto that key for a completely different reason. You looked down, then smled when you felt a light push on your shoulders.

--- 

James was laying on the grass, stargazing. 

He wore his favorite Gryffindor Quidditch hoodie but completely ignored the fact that it might get dirty. 

How could everything get so complicated? - Everything was such a mess and this time I can’t just get detention and erase the whole thing.  Will did not deserve death. He did not deserve to finally grow on me and then die- As soon as I become an Auror, I’ll kill Greyback with my own hands-

“Banana juice?” he shot his head to the figure next to him, offering him a small glass bottle of his favorite beverage. 

He kept looking up at you, then saw the light in your room behind you and put the pieces together. He smiled as he took the banana juice from your hands and sat up. “Wine would be nice but I can settle for banana juice.” he joked and you laughed, sitting next to him but in the opposite direction. The two of you opened the cap and clinged the glass together. “OH!” he gasped, marveling at the bottle in his hand.

Giggling, you put your own down on the grass and leaned back on your arms. “It’s imported from Germany. Aunty always brings a few packs when she visits. She knows I love it.”

“That isn’t fair.” he took chugged the whole thing down and continued to marvel at the bottle.

“Life isn’t fair.” 

His head shot up to you again, watching you bathe under the moon just like that day at the lake. It was such an innocent statement but for him it was a sentance of words he hated to think about. 

“It really isn’t.” he kept looking at you as you opened your eyes and locked yours with his. You simpered, trying to ease the tension in the air- the silence and moment that was so intense between the two of you, you could pierce through it. He shook his head and let out a chuckle. “It all got so messed up for us.” 

“Well, if we’re not messy, than what are we?” you tried to cheer him up, scooting closer to him unti the two of you were close, chest to chest. 

He tilted his head to the side and arching his eyebrows, showing his perpetual smugness. He chuckled lightly again, turning his head away and opening his mouth so the tip of his tongue licked the bottom lip, then bit it. He kept his head turned on the side but his eyes looked at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“What?” you laughed, throwing your arms back on the ground and leaning on your elbows. “If we are not this, than what are we? Really, James? Enemies, frenemies, neighbors...?”

“Complicated, I’d say.” he answered, scooting over until his shoulder was touching yours and his eyes observing your face features - mostly your lips. Those seemed to draw him the most. “Will told me you love me.” he looked up at your eyes, grinning smugly. 

You rolled your eyes, turning away just for a moment before locking your eyes with his. You grabbed his chin gently and pulled him into a slow, faint kiss- only a bare touch of your lips. He smiled wider, looking down on you as you kept looking up. “I do but as I remember correctly, you were the one with a plan of marrying me at the age of-” he cut you off with a kiss, this one more firm and deeper than the one you gave him. 

Pulling away, he brushed his thumb on your bottom lip and said. “Guess that plan is back on.” 

“Guess, it is.” 

- Fin 

[lilzebub]

Through the Years (CH 1)

I have this posted on https://archiveofourown.org/works/23913232/chapters/57499045, but thought I’d share here too! Finally finished this work yesterday.

Five Hargreeves x F!reader

Summary:  Number Five and the reader experience friendship and love that spans across the years and timelines. Word Count: 11k+ across three chapters.

Warnings: Violence in chapter 2, brief mention of smut in chapter 1, some angst, some language, canon divergent content

Setting her steaming mug gently on the table, she thumbed over a copy of her favorite book. “The Time Traveler’s Wife” emblazoned in large white letters across the front, the book was obviously well loved and well read. Her eyes flicked over to the calendar that hung on the wall: February 2nd 2019, circled in bright red marker. Today was one of the days, one of the final ones marked on her calendar. It was raining all day, but it would clear up by this afternoon, at least that’s what he had told her. She trusted this strange omniscience, the knowledge of things that would happen, the absolute certainty and resolve. She retrieved a second mug from the cabinet and poured a cup of rich, black coffee from the French press. He had told her she made the best coffee of anyone in any timeline, and she was inclined to believe that. Where he came from, coffee was a sparse and sought after resource. The ticking of the clock counted down the seconds, and she found herself syncing up her breathing. “Why am I so nervous?” she whispered out loud to no one in particular. A blue light flashed brightly on the opposite side of the room, and her breath hitched in her throat. The illuminated man composed himself, this time much older than she was used to. “Five?” She stepped forward, voice wavering. “February 2nd, 2019?” His face stern and weathered. Her head nodded in confirmation. Face softening, he strode towards her, wrapping her in a warm embrace. “Five, you’re filthy, is everything okay?” “Let me take a shower and I’ll fill you in.” He glided past her towards the bathroom, knowing precisely where he was going. She no longer felt hurt at the lack of affection when he first arrives, but had rather come to expect it. They had done this countless times in different locations: her parents’ home, her first apartment, once while she was on vacation. Five could seemingly always find his way to her, regardless of the time stamp. She sat quietly on the couch as the low hum of the shower started down the hall.

The first night he came in 2002 had been tumultuous. Her parents fought loudly in the living room, like they had done countless times since her sister had committed suicide. Those nights she found solace in lying on the roof of the house, staring at stars. The serenity was broken by a loud ‘pop’ from her bedroom. Wiping away her tears, she snuck back in through her window, to be greeted by the form of a boy around her age who appeared very shaken up. The girl began to scream, and the boy rushed over and placed a hand gently on her mouth. “Shhhhh. Please wait, listen. I need you to tell me the date.” He removed his hand, placing it on her shoulder. “It’s January 3rd 2002.” His mouth curved into a sly smile. “I’ll be damned, I DID IT.” Her eyes traced the emblem on the front of his neat sport jacket. “I came from two days in the past!” “You’re from the Umbrella Academy, aren’t you?” “Five Hargreeves, spatial jumper and now, officially, TIME TRAVELLER. Oh, father dearest is going to love this…”He paused, holding out his hand. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know why I showed up here of all places.” She reached out and shook his hand. “I’m (y/n),” she replied quietly, still attempting to mask the fact that she had been crying. Their friendship soon became a constant in her otherwise bleak life. He began visiting in the normal timeline, for the better part of a year. He would occasionally pop up in her room, asking what the date was: she could tell he was practicing for a bigger jump. One night, when they sat on the roof, she broke down. “I’m sorry I’m so boring. We sit up here nearly every night, I know this has to drive you crazy. You could be honing your time jumps, or literally doing anything else, than sitting up here with me. You’re extraordinary and I’m just…ordinary.” His hand brushed hers, so gently she thought she had imagined it. “Hey, you’re wrong. You’re definitely not ordinary. You’re like a beacon, or a lighthouse. If I ever get lost in the timeline, I think I’ll always be able to find you. That must be why I showed up here after the first jump!” He paused, staring at the sky. “You’re my best friend, (Y/n).” That night, he had left in another loud ‘pop’. At first light, she rolled over in her bed, noticing some items missing from her room. A picture frame that held a class photo, a necklace from her nightstand, small things that would seem mundane to an unknowing eye. Beside her head on the pillow, a letter was conspicuously placed. “(Y/n), Today I am going to attempt the furthest time jump that I’ve done yet. I know my father will protest, but I think I’m ready. If something happens, just know I’ll find you eventually. I promise. Yours, Five”

She was fourteen the first time he came back, popping up in the kitchen of her house. She marveled at how he was all at once the same, but was somehow different, perhaps a bit older. Once the shock subsided, she threw her silverware at him, unleashing her pent up anger. “You left me, Five. You left me,” she sobbed. He was unphased, standing with arms crossed. “Are you done?” he stared at her from the place she had collapsed in the floor. “You know the drill. Confirm date and time.” Five turned from her, rummaging around the cabinets. “August 15, 2004.” She hiccupped quietly, collecting herself off of the linoleum. “Do you know how to make coffee?” His facial expression didn’t change, but she could detect a hint of a smile in his eyes. Over a cup of French press coffee, he began telling her what he had been doing for the last two years. He had been recruited as a part of an organization that maintained appropriate timelines called the Commission. He dodged most of her questions, noting that his career was secretive. The question sat on the tip of her tongue, waiting for a lull in conversation. “In the future, do you see me?” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hands clasped around the mug. “I do.” He answered curtly. “I can’t speak to you though, it would alter the timeline. There are certain variables that have to be met…” he trailed off, a barely detectable sadness settled into his expression. “Otherwise, certain things won’t happen. The Commission says things have to happen exactly in the right order or it ruins the whole thing.” His jaw clenched. His mind goes to a particular fall day in 2014 that the Commission insisted on him traveling to, over and over again. A day in which he would love nothing more than to forsake the timeline and the Commission. “Like what?” cocking an eyebrow, her interest clearly piqued. “You’ll have to wait. Just give me a few years and I’ll have this all figured out. I’m not strong enough to jump too many times by myself. I’m only able to jump now because the Commission has given me the tools to do it with ease.” The coffee cup in front of his was empty. His arm outstretched across the kitchen table, and he grasped her hand. “Whenever I’m not on a job, I’ll come back as much as I can. I promise.”

She waited for four more unbearable years for her best friend to come back. She was on vacation in Mexico celebrating graduation, and a bright blue light illuminated her hotel room. As was the tradition, he requested the date first and foremost. She noted his height, he was several inches taller than her now, and he had the beginnings of unruly facial hair, and appeared to be in at least late 20s. His eyes remained the same. “Handsome” she thought outrageously to herself. He closed distance, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. “(Y/n), the world ended. I have to fix this.” His eyes were blown out, panicked. “I came from year 2032.” “Well that explains the age gap. Five, you’ve got to slow down. Do you know where you are right now?” He looked around the room, then rushed to the open doors leading to a balcony, overlooking a calm, deserted beach. Whipping around rapidly, his eyes ran over her from the bottom up. His pupils dilated: she had grown into a beautiful young adult. He couldn’t have prepared himself for how she had gotten taller, her features slightly more pointed. “Oh my God, I missed your graduation, didn’t I?” He did his best to avert his gaze, she wore a baggy shirt and underwear, hair thrown in a messy bun. A flush crept over his cheeks. Nervously, she strode over to the balcony. “Five, you’ve been gone for a while…You missed everything.” There was no anger in her voice, just a hint of loneliness. She had rehearsed the moment he would return to her for years now, knowing exactly what she would say. “I can’t believe you’re here…”she paused, noting his somber expression. “It’s all going to be gone. The world ends and I have no idea how to stop it. Do you know how long I’ve been alone out there? There’s no one left…” he thought for a moment. “I didn’t think I would ever find you again after getting kicked out of the Commission. I practiced, and worked, and slaved just to be able to jump again, but I couldn’t. Then I thought of you. Just sat there, and thought about you, and I was here.” “Wait, you left the Commission? What are you talking about??” “Shit, I’m screwing up. I can’t talk about that anymore, otherwise I’m going to muck things up even worse.” Unexpectedly, he wrapped his arms around her, burying his scruff in her neck. Whispering, he murmured, “I don’t have much time. Any minute now I’m going to revert back to where I was. I just had to see. Just had to see….” He stopped himself, knowing if he poured his heart out, it would only make things harder. She didn’t know what he knew. In a quick sleight of hand, he slipped a piece of paper into her palm. He gently pushed back from her, the cool touch of metal brushing her chest. Around his neck, he wore the necklace that he had stolen off of her nightstand, accompanied by a thin gold band. Her eyes widened. “Five, is that my necklace? What’s that ring?” He placed his hands, clad in fingerless gloves, over her flushing cheeks. “I had to take it. I needed something to keep me grounded to guide me back. My lighthouse…” He began pulling her close once more, but just before the inevitable crashing of lips, a flash of blue light took him away from her again. It felt wrong. Five laid on a filthy mattress in the middle of a wasteland now circa 2032, knowing she was back in 2008, feeling miserable and devastated. He wanted to tell her what he did in 2014, just a few years before the apocalypse, but he knew it could alter everything.

(Y/n) moved into her first apartment while attending college in 2009. She had not seen him since he came to her on the balmy night in Mexico. Unfolding a small piece of paper he had slipped in her palm that night, she noted that one of the days, scrawled in what appeared to be blue crayon, was today. Attending her classes like normal, she had a creeping sense of anxiety at the unknown nature of the significance of the date. (Y/n) chose to skip her afternoon classes, and made her way back to her apartment. Immediately upon opening the door, the scent of black coffee hit her. A sense of panic washed over her: she definitely had not brewed any coffee that day. She felt for the light switch on the wall beside her, to be greeted to the sight of Five sitting comfortably on her couch, a briefcase positioned on the floor near his feet. “Christ, Five, what the hell? You couldn’t turn a light on? Why are you just sitting in the dark?” He stood from his seated position: clean cut, with a button up shirt rolled above his elbows and dark dress pants, easily younger than he had been in Mexico. “Sorry,” he smoothed his hair back with his hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She stared at him quizzically, noting the dark circles under his eyes. There were unmistakable indicators that he had been crying. “Hey, are you alright?” Her feet were frozen just inside the threshold of the door. Seeing him in this state was completely new. Five had always been fairly level headed and logical: emotions weren’t necessarily his strong suit, nor were words. His eyes darted around the room, unable to meet her gaze. “What’s wrong?” He shook his head and rushed towards her, wrapping his arms firmly around her. His chin rested atop her head, and his breathing steadied. “I just….need you.” He pushed back slightly to look her in the eyes, his own wild with a flurry of emotions. Her mouth slightly ajar, he reached up and ran his thumb across her bottom lip, an inquiry. There were no words he could use to describe what was happening, he needed to show her. Tentatively, she leaned into him, placing a slow kiss onto his lips, the answer he had been searching for. As if the flood gates had opened, he swept her up against the wall, a flurry of hands and unsure lips. It was nearing midnight, and the two laid tangled together on the couch. No words had been spoken in hours, only the praises of two human beings occupying a rare moment in time. Her fingers pressed idly on his chest, she felt his heart rate increase. She knew that time was up, and instinctively pushed herself away from him, granting him access to leave. “I don’t want to go.” He whispered as he sat up, placing his head in his hands. “But if I don’t make it back before midnight the Commission…” “Will turn you into a pumpkin? Or worse?” He peered up at her and cringed. “They’ll send someone after me. Then it will probably be worse.” He dragged himself from the couch, collecting his clothes from the floor. “Sorry I didn’t have a whole lot to say tonight.” He looked at (Y/n) sympathetically, as she wrapped herself in a blanket. “Well, I think you said plenty,” she blushed as she marveled at him, noting that he was a bit leaner and built, apparent in the ease with which he lifted her from the floor just hours before. He leaned down and kissed her, fighting back tears, and began unlatching the case beside the couch. “You’re not angry that I have to leave?” she looked down at him, his somber expression breaking her heart. She knew that somehow this was hurting him more than it hurt her. “Of course not. You have a job to do. I know you’ll always come back to me” “Okay….I’ll see you soon, check the dates.” In a flash he was back at the Commission, back pressed to the wall. He wished he could have told her that his devastation was from watching her wedding, again, and how he wished that it was him instead: it would be selfish to ruin this for her. The knowledge that she could never be his made it even more painful. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and peeled himself from the floor.

The shower had stopped running, bringing a thick silence to their sometimes shared home. Five walked out of her bathroom wrapped in a towel, and found his way to the couch, collapsing in an exhausted heap. (Y/n) brought him his coffee and sat down beside him. “So….” She started, unsure of what to say. There usually wasn’t a lull in conversation, but things had been mostly quiet for her, and she surmised, for him as well. “I’ve pinpointed the day when the world ends. All of my calculations appear to point at the same date. I just don’t know the why or the what.” He frowned, rubbing his freshly shaved cheek. “What year did you come from?” She stared down at the vortex she had created in her coffee. “Still 2032. I think I’ve managed to sync everything back up. We’re in the same timeline now, I’m just coming from…a little further ahead.” He frowned. Her hand reached out to clasp his slightly weathered hand, touch starved after months of waiting. “You changed your hair?” Taken aback by his change of subject, she recoiled, running her fingers through her hair. “Oh, yeah. I dyed it a couple of weeks ago.” “Fascinating…it suits you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it like this before.” He replaced her fingers with his own and she exhaled, reveling in his touch. “All these numbers and figures, and I never even think about how you might be different when I see you.” Eyes pressed firmly shut, “It’s all I ever think about. How someday, you’ll come back, and decide I’m not beautiful anymore. Or you think I’ve gained weight, or my hair isn’t quite right or…” Five cut her off, placing his finger over her lips. “You have nothing to worry about. I feel sorry for YOU,” he emphasized. “I’m getting old and haggard, and you’re even more beautiful than the day I married you.” His strong hand guided her towards him, placing a firm but loving kiss on her lips.

(Y/n) sat in front of a mirror as her best friend adjusted her veil. A frown plastered her face. “I don’t think I should do this, I mean, we’ve only been together for six months. It’s kind of a whirlwind, don’t you think?” Fingers busied themselves nervously with the delicate beading of her dress, arguably one that wasn’t even remotely her style. (Y/f/n) swiveled her chair to meet her eyes. “This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, you have to stop trying to talk yourself out of it. You finally have a man that won’t go disappearing on you, it’s literally the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” (Y/n)’s eyes welled up with tears. “But what if he comes back? What if he comes back and I’m married to someone else? I don’t know if I could live with myself.” “Five isn’t coming back. The Umbrella Academy assholes are all maladjusted, miserable people. You know this just as well as I do.” She shot back bitterly. “Just because you and Diego didn’t get a happy ending, that doesn’t mean I can’t.” Her friend passed her a tissue, expression softening. “I’m sorry, (Y/n). I’m not trying to be hard on you, I know this is a stressful day. But this is what it is. This is your happily ever after! Let’s celebrate!” She handed her a champagne flute, and toasted the bride and her bridesmaids. As she sipped her champagne, she began to wonder if Five had ever loved her at all, considering he had never said those words in any exact capacity. Maybe he simply felt comfort in her presence. Her fiancé never missed an opportunity for those words to pour from his lips, like a slow, miserable drip from a leaky pipe. He was even accepting of the fact that she did not want to sleep with him before the wedding, completely oblivious that the only reason was that the thought of another man touching her made her feel sick. Pachelbel’s Cannon in D began playing throughout the garden, and she felt her chest tighten. This wasn’t the song she wanted, but her fiancé was incredibly traditional. She chose to have no one give her away, so she would take this long walk to the altar completely alone and exposed. Her fiancé wasn’t particularly pleased with that either. Plastering on some semblance of a smile, she strode slowly, taking in all of the faces in the crowd, doing her best to not look up at the groom. She knew it wouldn’t be the absentee man of her dreams, the one she had loved since she was 12. No, that man was lost in the aether of time, with an important job of maintaining order in a world made of entirely chaos. This would be as good as it could possibly get. There was nothing wrong with her fiancé per say: he was handsome, had an excellent job and most importantly, was there all the time. Unlike Five, who could only offer middle of the night trysts where fevered hands did the talking, those fleeting moments he could break away from the Commission without being caught. Nights where he couldn’t utter a single word to her, since any moment speaking would be a moment his lips weren’t on hers. The moments that she knew he was a ship without an anchor, the only thing holding him to those hours in time were his desperate hands clinging to her. None of those stolen moments mattered anymore. Her feet planted firmly in front of the man with whom she had every intention of spending her life, she took a deep breath. The string quartet stopped. Cicadas began singing as the sun set. “Does anyone with us today have a reason why these two should not be joined in marriage? Speak now or forever hold your peace.” A bright blue light illuminated the middle of the aisle. “I do.” Five stood there in a slick black suit, looking as though he had just come from a day of work at the Commission. His jaw tense, he stood for a moment as the realization dawned on everyone in the audience. “Oh hell no,” her maid of honor stepped in front of her, “who the FUCK do you think you are? Showing up today of all days, after MONTHS of radio silence. You have DESTROYED her, give her this chance to make it right.” He closed distance, and couldn’t help but laugh to himself at the dumbfounded look on the groom’s face. He probably didn’t even know about them. “Don’t speak for her. (Y/n), please hear me out…I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I should have said it sooner. I couldn’t stand by and watch the love of my life marry someone else, not without telling you my piece first.” Her expression was blank underneath her veil: there was no reading the myriad of emotions she was feeling. She stepped in front of (Y/f/n), placing her hand gently on her shoulder, giving her a knowing nod. Gently, she swept the veil away from her face, and crossed her arms, as if wordlessly telling him to continue. Five swallowed hard. “The Commission was testing me…They’ve sent me to this moment in time over and over again. I’ve watched you be with someone else no less than a dozen times now, and I can’t do this anymore. The first night we-“ he paused, deciding better than to bring up the events of that particular evening”…this is where I came from. I had just watched you marry him, and it broke me.” “But the timeline….the variables, the rules?” She gestured vaguely. “Fuck the timeline, and fuck the Commission. I quit. Nothing in this world is worth it to watch you end up with someone else. Maybe that’s selfish, maybe I’m an ass.” He shrugged, and she did not respond. Peering around the room at the attendants, they all seemed to be weighing what was going to happen next. Five stood in front of her, placing his hands on the sides of her face. “I’m a terrible romantic, always have been, but here it goes. I can’t promise you that things will be stable. Hell, I can’t promise that they’ll even be good. But I promise you, there is no one in any timeline, in any reality, anywhere, that will love you more than I do.” In a swift motion, he dropped to his knee. “Let’s get married instead, (Y/n). You and I.” Gasps and murmurs erupted from the crowd, as she turned her back on him and walked up to her groom, still dumbfounded at the altar. “Sorry…” she said in almost a whisper, removing the ring that she never particularly liked from her finger and placing it gently in his palm. From this vantage point, Five could not make out what was happening, but watched the groom’s expression change from shock to defeat. He found that he couldn’t move, frozen in time, with baited breath. (Y/n) turned on her heels, looking at the man kneeling on the floor. “Five…stand up.” She put her hands out, helping him up. “Are you ready?” His confusion was apparent. “Ready for what?” “To marry me, dumbass. This is all already paid for, if we’re going to do it, let’s do it right now.” She threw her arms around his neck. “This is all I’ve ever wanted. Marry me, Five?” Nodding, he nervously fumbled around in the pocket of his dress pants. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I bought this ring in 1921 in Paris on one of my first jobs with the Commission…I’ve had this for years…”He placed in on her finger, their hands steadying one another. “I’ve always known that it had to be you.” The ceremony was filled with laughter and tears, despite the grand exit of nearly half the attendants when the bride dumped the groom at the altar. The event was postponed for an hour, so Five could contact his family to attend. The reception roared into early evening marked by jovial alcohol consumption. “I know I’ve been asking a lot of big questions today, but I have one more thing I need of you, Mrs. Hargreeves.” Five murmured in her ear, surrounded by people on the dance floor. “Anything, for you. What do you need?” She replied back as seductive as she could. “I need you…” he nipped at her neck …”to….” He peppered kisses along her jaw. “cut the Commission tracking device out of my arm.” “The ACTUAL fuck, Five???” She screeched, slightly tipsy. “Yep, then we throw it in the river. After that I’m completely yours. I’ll finally be able to wake up next to you.” Weighing her options, she nodded. “Let’s do it.” The pair snuck into the bathroom of the reception hall, stumbling and giggling. He removed his dress shirt and flung it over the top of the bathroom stall door, removing a small thin blade from a holster around his ankle. Kneeling near the sink, he draped his arm over the drain, placing the blade in her hand. “You know how much I love you, right, Five?” She eyed him nervously. “I’ve always known. I love you, too. Now let’s get on with this, I’m going to need another drink after this.” He pointed at the spot on his arm, indicating the location of the tracking device. (Y/n) gently pressed the tip of the blade into his arm, creating a small incision. A sudden, sharp breath escaped his lips as he took the blade from her, digging out a small pill shaped device from his forearm. He applied a butterfly bandage, and pulled his button up back on. “Let’s start our happily ever after.”

“So I’ve been making all of these calculations, right?” (Y/n) pulled his clothing out of the dryer and tossed it on the couch. He began getting dressed, since he knew he reasonably only had a few more minutes until he had to go back. “And since I know the exact date, my plan is to travel to just a week before, and see if I can nail down the cataclysm that causes the apocalypse. I’ll have to connect with my brothers and sisters…” She stared at him with exhausted eyes. “So if you can prevent it, maybe we can actually go back to having a normal life?” “I think so. We can finally settle down, I can assemble the bookshelves for all the books I’ve been stealing from the Academy and stashing over here, breakfast, lunch, and dinner together every night…and maybe…” “Maybe what, Five?” He turned towards her, smirking. “We can finally start a family?” a guffaw escaped her mouth, as her hands flew up to cover it. “Five Hargreeves, wanting to be a family man? I thought you ‘never wanted to bring kids into this world’ and ‘didn’t want to risk them having powers and ruin their lives’.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess living through the apocalypse has given me some perspective.” His hands rubbed together rapidly, as he prepared to travel back, knowing this version of himself couldn’t remain here permanently. “I’ll see you the week before the Apocalypse, okay?” He disappeared in a haze of blue once again, and (Y/n) collapsed on the couch.

Just a few blissful years: that was all they were able to squeeze out of their marriage, before the Commission inevitably caught wind of their location. The tall blonde woman, the Handler, had appeared in their front yard, ready to strike up a deal with Five. He had two options: stay in the present, and himself and (Y/n) would be killed at a date of the Commission’s choosing. Be sent to the future and continue work for the Commission, and they would allow them both to live. Little did he know that his punishment would be far worse: they provided him a faulty briefcase, their particular method for time travel, which led to him being stuck in time. The years he spent in the Apocalyptic wasteland allowed him to regain some of his strength, and he began the time leaps that brought him back to (Y/n) in various parts of the timeline.

The final date marked on her calendar in bright red marker had arrived. “This is the last one,” she murmured to herself. “Now if the world could just not end in a week, that would be great…” Nervously, she adjusted the delicate ring that Five had gotten from Paris technically nearly a century ago. A tingling in her scalp alerted her to an intense feeling of dread that had suddenly taken root: something bad was about to happen. Maybe just the impending doom of the apocalypse, maybe something else. She was started by a knock at the door. “Well at least I know it’s not Five, since he’d just poof into the room.” She swung the door open, “Can I help….you….?” “This is bad, (Y/n). This is really bad.” Five stood before her in his school uniform: the very same he had worn when they had first met. She peered down at the young teenager before her. By all appearances, it was just some gangly fifteen year old kid, certainly not her husband; unfortunately, she knew better. Some things about him stayed exactly the same: his eyes, the timbre of his voice, the way he stared at her when he was panicking. “Something was wrong in my calculations…I’m stuck like this and I can’t jump.” “Oh…..Oh, God….”

[imjustthemechanic]

Glockenspiel

Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly Part 4/? - The Future Part 5/? - Too Late Part 6/? - The Mystery of the Missing Time Machine Part 7/? - Underway Part 8/? - The Sierra Bunker Part 9/? - Cross-Country Part 10/? - The Pit Part 11/? - Calls for Help Part 12/? - Campout and Reunion Part 13/? - Apocalypse Bunker Part 14/? - Terrible Truths Part 15/? - Library Crystals Part 16/? - The Stark Gallery

They landed at LaGuardia, where they had a quick (and expensive) lunch, and visited a kiosk to get Peggy and Howard a second set of cell phones before catching a train into the city.  Peggy’s impression of twenty-first century London had been of the city she remembered but somehow more so, bigger and brighter and busier than ever before.  Manhattan was, if anything, an even more extreme example.  The streets were teeming with cars, dogs, and people.  New, shiny buildings stood side-by-side with ones nearly a hundred years old.  And like the familiar buildings in London, it hadn’t aged particularly well.  Plaster was peeling and pavement was cracked, as if the entire island were crumbling away under the weight of all this human activity.

In the midst of all that, it was a bit unbalancing to find that the Fifth Avenue façade of Howard’s old mansion hadn’t changed a bit.  It looked exactly as it had during the brief time Peggy and Angie had lived there – a mix of Georgian and Neoclassical architecture that probably looked refined to anybody who didn’t know the difference between the two.  The magnolia trees had grown but they’d been lovingly pruned, and there were different flowers in the garden but the beds were in the same place.  It looked as if Peggy could move right back in.

Except, of course, for the giant banner advertising a new exhibit of Jackson Pollock, and the massive queue of people waiting to get in.  Those were very definitely new.

“That’s a hell of a thing to see,” Howard muttered, as they got in line.  “A hundred people just waiting to get into your house.”

“Are you telling me that’s never happened before?” Peggy asked, skeptical.

“Those were reporters,” Howard told her.  “Not members of the public.”

Peggy looked at the crowd of people waiting, and then at Toulouse herself, with blue and green locks falling out from under her knitted cap.  It would be silly to keep Toulouse and Kevin out when all these other civilians were coming in, and Toulouse herself looked determined.  Peggy had a feeling if she told her no, there’d be a fight.

“Not now,” she decided, “but this is just a scouting-out trip.  Once we have a plan for what to do next, we may ask you to leave.”  They probably wouldn’t have to worry about anything more dangerous than security guards, but Peggy wasn’t going to take that for granted.  HYDRA might be able to find this place, too.  They might even have followed them here.

“Let me know if I can help,” said Toulouse firmly.

While the main façade faced Fifth Avenue, the actual entrance to the mansion was on East Seventieth Street.  Toulouse paid admission for four and then stepped into the main foyer, where Peggy discovered that Toulouse had not been joking about the interior having been preserved with its original décor.  Even the wallpaper was, while not exactly what she remembered, certainly a very close replica.  The coat check and small gift shop were on the right, and on the wall across from them was a large framed photograph of a family posing in the portico.

“Son of a bitch,” Howard said under his breath, and walked towards it.

The photo was in colour, and printed very large – nearly three feet tall, which rendered the image a little grainy up close.  Even so, there was no mistaking the identity of the largest figure.  It could only possibly be Howard himself.

Peggy came closer, too, to see how her friend had changed over the years.  He definitely looked older, thinner, and more tired.  His mustache was a little bushier and his hair had gone gray, and he looked more deathly serious than she could ever remember seeing him.  Standing on his right and smiling gently was an attractive blonde woman, at least twenty years younger than he.  Her hair fell long around her shoulders and she was dressed in a dark skirt suit and pearls.  Between the adults was a little boy, three or four years old.  He had a mop of dark hair and serious brown eyes, and looked stiff and uncomfortable in his little suit and tie.

There was a brass plaque below the picture.  It said, Howard, Maria, and Anthony Stark, September 1973.

“So that’s them, eh?” Howard murmured.

“So it is,” Peggy agreed.

It was a strange thing to see, she thought.  Toulouse had mentioned that Howard would get married, but here was the proof, staring back at them across forty years.  His wife, Maria, was very much Howard’s type – a petite blonde with a pretty face and a charming smile.  Peggy wondered what was different about this one.  What had made Howard decided that out of all those little blondes, this was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with?

Howard must have been thinking the same thing.  “I wonder what she was like,” he said.  “I wonder where I met her.”

“It might say on your Wikipedia article,” Toulouse suggested from behind him.

“Yeah,” Howard said distantly, and Peggy could tell that he wasn’t going to look.  He didn’t want to know.  Why would he?  Who wanted to know that here was the love of their lives, forever beyond their reach?

Peggy knew that feeling all too well.  It still came over her every so often, usually in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep.  She’d told herself again and again that she was over Steve, that she couldn’t dwell on what might have been – she’d told Jason that, and it had been good advice for him as it was for her, but there was a part of her heart that just wasn’t willing to take it.  Daniel had asked Peggy if she still loved him and she’d had to say yes, she always would.  She knew better than to let it interfere with the rest of her life and relationships, but she was very much still in love with Steve Rogers.

Kevin and Toulouse were hanging back now, not wanting to interrupt.  Peggy herself was of two minds about it.  If they stayed here staring for two long, somebody might wonder why, but Howard was having to contemplate an entire life he could never live.  A wife he would never meet, a son he would never hug… he would need time to cope with that.  Peggy hoped they had that time.

Finally, Howard tore himself away, with honest pain in his face that he couldn’t quite hide by forcing himself to smile.  “Okay,” he said.  “The vault entrance will be in the library.”

“Wasn’t it in the music room?” asked Peggy with a frown.  Howard had used the library.  The music room was only there because fancy houses were supposed to have one.

“It was, but when I decided to hide it better I planned to move the door,” he explained.  “If I got on with that, it’ll be in the library.”

The music room was circular, and was now used as an exhibit of antique instruments, including an eighteenth-century cello and a white-lacquered grand piano.  They looked like the sort of things Howard would collect just because rich people were supposed to collect things.  A doorway from there led into the library, which was where most of the crowd was.  Not only was it home to several rare books, but the featured exhibit of three paintings by Pollock were hanging on the far wall.  These were not particularly impressive as far as Peggy could tell.  They all looked like they’d been made by simply throwing paint at a canvas.

Howard took no interest in the art at all.  He turned immediately to the right, where the library shared a wall with the music room – the fact that the latter was round left a wedge-shaped space between them.  A large Indian rug was hung there, with a plastic panel in front of it so that people couldn’t touch.

“Is this the place?” Peggy asked.  Based on her memory of the music room entrance, it did seem right.

“Should be,” Howard said.  “Looks like they re-wallpapered, or maybe I did that.  Either way, hides the entrance completely.  If I can just find the seam in the plaster…” he reached to touch the wall.

“Sir,” a security guard stepped forward.  “You’re not allowed to touch that.”

Howard looked at the man and began drawing himself up to his full height, and a horrible mental picture flashed through Peggy’s head.  He’d forgotten the situation, and was about to tell the guard that he could touch whatever he wanted in his own house.  She grabbed his arm to drag him away.

“There’s a sign right there, Honey,” she said, in an American accent.  “I know it’d look nice in your study, but I’m sure it’s not for sale.  Right?”  She smiled at the guard.

“That’s correct, Ma’am,” the guard told her.

Howard deflated as he remembered where and when they were.  “Yeah, okay.  Sorry,” he said.

There was a little café in the museum courtyard.  The food there was even more shockingly expensive than at the airport, but they ordered some coffee with steamed milk and some Danish pastries, and sat down to talk about their next move.  Howard continued to be uncharacteristically quiet.  The fact that this house no longer belonged to him was apparently as difficult for him as knowing he would never meet the woman in the photograph.

“I suppose we could always come up through the sewers, like the last people who robbed that vault,” Peggy observed.

Howard shook his head.  “I filled in the hole and reinforced it.  It’d take a bomb to get it out again.  We’ll just chip off the plaster and go in through the door.”

“And how do we get back into the house after closing?” Peggy wanted to know.  She didn’t doubt Howard knew how to do it, she only wanted to remind him that he hadn’t told her.

“Why would we leave?”  Howard started to smile again.  “You really think I built myself a house with only one secret room?”

“Oh, of course.”  Peggy shook her head.  “How very silly of me!”

“How can I help?” asked Toulouse.

The humour melted out of the conversation as Peggy and Howard exchanged a glance.  Neither of them wanted Toulouse getting hurt, and the chances of them triggering some kind of alarm while doing this were very good.  A technology that could create those multi-use mobile phones could do all kinds of things with surveillance.

“You can wait outside,” Peggy decided, “and let us know if the police are coming.”

Toulouse sighed.  “That’s what I figured you’d say.”

“You’ve already been a great help,” Peggy assured her.  “We couldn’t have come this far without you.”

“I know,” said Toulouse.  She had a spoon in her hand, and was playing with the foam on her coffee, piling it up in to a mound that slowly collapsed again.  “Daddy would agree with you.  He’s all about paying to save the world, but he never goes to any of these places himself.  I guess he’s afraid he’ll end up like Junior.”

Peggy had slept through the part of the conversation on the plane when Toulouse had said how her brother died.  She wondered now if it might be important, but Toulouse didn’t look as if she wanted to talk about it and Peggy didn’t want to sound like she was prying.  “Well, perhaps that’s a very good reason,” she said.

“I agree with them, for what that’s worth,” said Kevin.  “I’m just sticking around to make sure somebody’s trying to avoid Yellowstone blowing up under me.  I don’t actually want to have to fight a supervillain if I don’t have to.”

“Daddy isn’t a supervillain!” Toulouse protested.

“He kind of is,” said Kevin.  “I mean, he wants to set off a volcano on purpose.  That’s some top-tier supervillainy.”

“He is not a supervillain,” Toulouse told him.  “Supervillains are like… are like Loki, or Ultron.  They’ve got powers and stuff.  Daddy isn’t a supervillain.  I figure there’s got to be a reason why him and Cass are mixed up in this,” she went on.  Now she was gesturing with the spoon, rather than scooping foam.  “Maybe somebody’s using them.  Remember I said Daddy did the investigation when HYDRA was exposed in the UK?  Maybe somebody promised him something and he didn’t realize it was going to lead to this!  I wish I’d been able to say something to Cass.”

Peggy wondered if she ought to be worried.  It was possible that Toulouse was right, and if she told her father and brother what was going on, they’d put a stop to it.  It was also possible, however, that she was dead wrong, and that trying to say anything to them would be a disaster.  They needed more information before they could let her try.  Before she could say anything, though, Howard spoke.

“Actually, Toulouse, Kevin, I’ve got a really important job for you two.  We are going to need a distraction.”

The staircase to the second floor was between the foyer and the fountain court  There was a security guard posted there to intervene if anybody decided to duck under the rope.  Across from the staircase was a little marble table displaying an intricate silver-plated wine cooler.  Toulouse and Kevin passed by this, and Toulouse hitched her purse up her shoulder and knocked the cooler over.

“Oh my god!  I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, and went to pick it up.

“No, don’t touch it, you’ll get fingerprints on it!” Kevin told her.  He stuck out his foot to stop her, and bumped the thing again.

“Both of you get away from that!” the horrified guard exclaimed.  He went to move them away from it, and with his back turned, Peggy and Howard slipped up the red-carpeted stairs.

“That poor cooler,” Peggy remarked.

“Eh, it’s not even real Sheffield plate,” Howard said, unconcerned.

At the top of the steps was a little room where another guard was supposed to be watching a bank of television screens that showed various views of the house.  Peggy and Howard outside the door were quite clearly visible on one of them, but the guard in question was reading a comic book and not paying the slightest attention.  As they tiptoed by, Peggy noticed what was hanging on the wall next to the shelves of screens.

“Is that one of those paintings from California?” she asked.

Howard glanced over his shoulder at the portrait.  “I dated an artist there,” he said.  “She told me I was her muse.  That’s when I knew I had to leave her – I couldn’t take being anybody’s muse.  Too much pressure.”

“Mmm,” said Peggy.  “We’re lucky the staff didn’t recognize you, if they have to look at that all day.”  Then again, perhaps they had, and just dismissed it as a coincidence.

“I wonder what happened to the ones she did of me nude,” Howard said.

“If she had any sense, she burned them.”

[losfacedevil]

Double Blessings // Dad Charlie Puth

a/n~ This is something that I promised to @onadelaidestreet about a million and one years ago and just kept putting on the back burner. I know for a fact that this is different and won’t be everyones cup of tea, so I mean, if it’s not something you think you’d like just keep on scrolling please! 

July 15, 2016

Twins were more than they could have ever bargained for.

They knew that it was going to be overwhelming, but they didn’t realize just how overwhelming the first few months were going to be. She felt like she hadn’t slept in a year, knew he couldn’t have felt much better than she did. The nightly wake ups times two took such a toll. People always told them to sleep when the babies were sleeping but that proved to be difficult with a house to upkeep as well. When would bottles and dishes be washed, laundry get done. When would they eat and shower themselves? It was a learning curve and they were in it together.

Blessed was the word that came to mind as she watched him lean over their sons crib as he placed the sleeping baby down. Straightening his back he rolled his shoulders and head side to side as he sighed before turning to her. Had been sat in a hunched position with his son for the past hour trying to rock the little guy to sleep.

“I didn’t think he was ever going to give it up.” He mumbled, turning to face her. She leaned against the door frame, their little girl cradled in her arms. A soft smile spread across her face as he made his way over to her. “He’s like you, quite the fighter.” He rolled his eyes and reached out, trying to take their daughter from her. She furrowed her brows as she shook her head. “No, I got her, go get some rest, Charlie.” He shook his head as he reached up and rested his hands on her cheeks. “You look like death.” He said it so matter-of-factly she couldn’t help the giggles that escaped her. “Oh thanks, I love you too.” He sucked his teeth, a smile spreading across his face as she nuzzled her face against his palm, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.  “You know what I meant, Phy.” She nodded, enjoying the feeling of his hands against her cheeks. “Let me put her down, I’m sure she’s more than ready for a nap. Then I’ll join you, yeah?” He asked, reaching down to cradle the little girl in his arms and pull her to his chest. He pressed his lips to Phynix’s forehead before watching as she turned and started towards their bedroom.

Charlie turned so his back was facing the door and re-situated the way he was holding his baby girl. Her face contorted a bit as cries erupted from her. A slight panic overtook Charlie as he glanced over at his sleeping son, didn’t think he could handle two screaming little ones at once.  Quickly he changed pace, bringing his daughter up and resting her cheek against his shoulder, hand rubbing soothing circles into her back as he started to sing. Soft lullabies fell from his lips as his little girl calmed down, slowly drifting off to sleep.

What he didn’t know was that Phynix had made her way back to the door when she heard the baby cry. Flew into mommy mode and was about to ask for her back when she witnessed Charlie transition into a fatherly mode she didn’t know he had in him. She leaned back against the door frame, eyes fluttering shut at the sound of his voice, always loved when Charlie sang.  Shaking her head she pushed off of the door frame and made her way to their bedroom, flopping down on the bed. ~*~*~*~* February 6, 2017 

They had been working on trying to get the twins to say their first words for months. Ever so eager to hear their little voices form something other than a scream or a cry. Baby babble was the norm especially between Jordan and Delilah. They sometimes wondered if the babies had their own language with the way they babbled back and forth.

Charlie sat in front of Jordans’s high chair, the tray covered in Cheerios. He pulled a funny face before covering his face with his hands, playing peek-a-boo with his little boy.

“C’mon baby, say Dada.” He cooed, reaching forward and pushing another Cheerio towards him. Jordan scooped up the Cheerio between his little thumb and index finger, popping it into his mouth before he clapped his hands, proud of himself. Phynix giggled as she placed Delilah in her high chair, sliding the tray back into place before pouring some Cheerios onto it.

“Relax, Charlie. They’ll talk when they’re good and ready.” She turned, pulling the can of formula towards her so she could make their bottles. “I know.” Charlie sighed, resting his chin in his hand as he watched Jordan play with his Cheerios. “Remember they both rolled over and sat up on their own when we weren’t paying attention. They’ll do the same thing with their speech. They’ll talk when we least expect it.” She slid Jordan’s bottle across the table so Charlie could put it on his tray. He watched as his eyes grew wide, a smile spreading across his face. “Baba!” Jordan exclaimed, reaching out and snatching the bottle from his father. Charlie’s eyes grew wide, a giggle escaping his lips. “Baba!! He said Baba! Babe, did you hear that?!” Phynix giggled as she set Delilah’s bottle down in front of him. She giggled as she made her way over to Charlie. “Like I said, when we least expect it.” ~*~*~*~*~*~ May 15, 2016

Charlie sat in the floor in their living room watching as the twins played. He had been obsessed with them taking their first steps recently and was becoming discouraged when they wanted no part of it. He drummed his fingers against the floor trying to come up with a way to get them to walk to him. 

“Hey Delilah, what are you doing, baby?” Charlie asked, pulling his daughters attention away from her toys. Delilah banged the car she had in her hand against the floor. “That’s not how we play with cars now is it?” He chuckled as Delilah continued to stare at him. “Can you come see daddy?” He asked, spreading his legs as he held his arms out to his daughter. Delilah shook her head no as she went back to playing with her car. “Hey, you don’t want to come see me?” Charlie pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. A smile spread across Delilah’s face as she shook her head no again.

Charlie blew out a sigh as he leaned back against the couch, he was starting to feel like the twins were never going to walk. He watched as they played together, not exactly sharing their toys they way they should. Jordan snatched the toy Delilah had out of her hand before pushing himself up into a standing position.

“That wasn’t nice, Buddy. Give your sister her toy back.” Jordan wobbled on his feet, tossing the toy behind him as he caught his balance. “Or you can throw the toy out of your sisters reach.” Charlie sighed as he shook his head.

Delilah’s little lips turned down at the corners into a pout as she reached out and made grabby hands at the toy her brother had thrown. Charlie laid down on the floor, reaching over to get the toy when he saw Delilah stand out of the corner of his eye. He turned his full attention to her, watching as a determined expression washed over her features. Her eyes were locked on the toy as she lifted one foot and slammed it back down on the floor.

“That’s it baby, you got this.” He encouraged, picking up the toy and shaking it. Delilah giggled, clapping her hands as she took another step. Her gait was wobbly but she wasn’t going to give up this time. She stopped just short of where Charlie was holding the toy. Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout and she made grabby hands in its direction, sad little eyes focused on Charlie.

“One more step and daddy will give you the toy.” He encouraged, moving the toy so it was closer to where she stood. Delilah’s bottom lip wobbled, a sign she was close to losing it. He sighed, sitting up on his knees and scooping her into his arms. “You did so good, daddy’s so proud of you, baby girl.” He mumbled, tickling her with the stuffed animal she was after. Her little giggles broadened the smile that spread across his face, so proud of all his kids were accomplishing. “Now if we can get your brother up and grooving then we’ll really be in trouble.” He watched as Jordan crawled over to where he was sitting, trying to push his sister off of Charlie’s lap to take her place.

Charlie shook his head as he repositioned Delilah so he could scoop up Jordan as well. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have become the father of these two beautiful babies. He watched as they both tried to play with the stuffed animal that was in Delilah’s grasp. Chuckling, he shook his head as thoughts of what the future held dancing through his mind.

[valaenarhaegarovna]

Melt me away: Chapter 15

Previous chapter

Melt me away

Master list

Notes: This was my favorite chapter to write, and I am very happy share it with you guys. 

Anyway, later I will make a post talking about this story’s timeline as I feel it might be confusing to some people. 

"I can't believe Brandon is getting married."

Elia's eyes focused on her husband's image as she kept brushing her hair in front of the mirror. It was early morning, but the entire castle was already working on the preparations for Brandon's wedding. According to Northern custom, Brandon, Ned, Benjen and Edmure had to hunt for the feast; they would only return by nightfall. Meanwhile, the women had to help the bride with the decoration and planning where the guests would seat.  

"And why is that?"  

"He is not the type of man to hold to just one woman, as much as it hurts me to say something like this about my own brother." Eddard's voice came out in a painful tone. "He always knows what to do when it comes to Winterfell, but his honor is another matter entirely."  

"You worry for Catelyn's heart." It wasn't a question; Elia knew her husband well. His exterior could be cold and harsh, but his heart was soft. Too soft. She placed her brush on the vanity, her long raven hair now tamed in a simple dornish style. "Brandon might have his flaws, but he is far from being the worst fate a woman could face." She told him tenderly, standing up and turning to face him. "Take Queen Rhaella, for example."

Ned scowled.

"Now you see..." The Princess smiled. "Your brother might hurt her in the beginning, but they both have a good heart and I am sure Lord Brandon will learn how to appreciate hers."  

"I hope you are right." He told her, his eyes still filled with worry.  

"Have I ever been wrong?" Elia walked away from him with a mischievous smile.

"Can't argue with that." He smiled back.  

"Wise move, Lord Stark." She winked, sitting on their bed to put on her boots. "These are more comfortable than I thought they would be."  

"Fine northern leather, my lady." He winked back at her.

"… and I spent all week finishing these details here." Catelyn showed the pearls she had applied in the bodice of her wedding dress. "I also added some wolf fur by the end of the sleeve, it suits well."  

Elia smiled at her friend's happiness as she kept working on the Stark cloak that would be used on the ceremony. Since Brandon's mother was dead and Lyanna knew nothing of needlework, Elia, who was a Stark by marriage, volunteered to sew it. Needlework wasn't her favorite activity, but she had learned it dutifully. It was part of her mother's plan to make her the perfect Queen.  

"I am just sad I won't be wed under The Seven." The trout sighed sadly. "Did you wed under the Old Gods, Princess Elia?"  

"Actually, no." The dornishwoman stopped her work. "There is no godswood in Dorne, as far as I am aware of." She wondered if such thing mattered to Ned, maybe they should renew their vows in front of a heart tree. "We were married in the Water Gardens' sept."

"Oh, I envy you!" Catelyn whispered shyly. "Still, I love Brandon, and that is all that matters. The Gods will not curse our union."

I truly hope you will be happy. Even after being so adamant about Brandon's good heart, Elia could not forget her Ned's words. Catelyn had a gentle heart and she had already fallen for Brandon, while the Wild Wolf held no more than a casual affection; fondness. Cat would need to be strong in the beginning, for the Stark heir would not keep to her bed. Elia just hoped he would come to realize the lucky man he was.  

They both went back to work, exchanging some stories about their siblings and childhoods. It was nice to have Catelyn around; the Tully girl's mother was a Whent and she knew a lot about Harrenhal, a topic that Elia had always loved. As a child, she would read tales about the castle's curse and all the many Houses that had perished under it.  

"I am done!" She said happily, putting her needle down and turning to show her work to Elia. "What do you think?"

Elia, who was nearly finished with the Stark cloak, took a moment to admire the beautiful work Lady Catelyn had done. The dress was white, like most wedding dresses, with pearls in the bodice and longs sleeves adorned with wolf fur. But near the waistline she had embroidered small blue images, if you looked closer, it was possible to notice they were small trout. By the end of the skirt, there were small blue tridents that sparkled when light hit them. It was a fine work, very delicate and truly beautiful.  

"This is wonderful, Catelyn!" Elia smiled and reached to touch it. "The tridents on the skirt are just marvelous." She looked at her friend once more. "You are very talented."

"Well, I love sewing." There was a deep blush on her face, nearly as red as her hair. "My mother taught me herself."  

They stayed like that, comfortable and talking about small things. They spoke of their family, especially of their experience with their younger brothers; it was funny to notice how different yet similar Oberyn and Edmure were at the same time. A younger brother was always a younger brother.

A knock on the door, it was Old Nan. Catelyn told her to come in and the old woman came into view, followed by a very big boy carrying a big jar. Catelyn smiled and set aside her work, standing up to take the jar into her arms.

"Is this the Bride's Milk you told me about?" The Tully girl asked Old Nan, who gave one of her gentle smiles before nodding. "And I just need to take a cup before... welcoming my husband?" She spoke the last part in a very low voice like it was something to be ashamed of.

"Yes, one cup is enough." Old Nan smiled at Elia. "Would you like to drink it as well, Winter Sun?"  

Elia liked that nickname, it was silly but showed the affection the old woman already felt for her.

"What is it, exactly?" She also stood up to take a closer look.  

"Old Nan told me that this is something northern ladies drink when they wish to have a child." Catelyn moved away to pour herself a cup of it.

"It is made on sheep's milk and some rare herbs from the Neck." Old Nan said, knowing what Elia would ask next. "The ladies of Winterfell always became with child after drinking this."

The strange beverage caught Elia's attention at that; she had been praying for her to fall pregnant since after her wedding night. Ned avoided mentioning the fact that she had yet to fall pregnant after six moons of being married; her kind and dutiful wolf, always putting her feelings first. He knew how delicate that matter was to her.

Still, his gentle silence couldn't keep her from becoming sad about her flat stomach. Elia wanted to see it grow full of life; to feel the undying love her mother had told her about when she first flowered.

Catelyn approached her with a cup and the Princess took it with a smile and a small nod. It had a strong smell, awful. Elia felt dizzy and something rose in her stomach. She was certain she would vomit. Elia put the cup aside fast, closing her eyes to take a deep breath.

"Is everything alright?" Catelyn asked.  

"It has a very strong smell..." The Princess smiled weakly, opening her eyes to see that the Tully girl had already finished her cup.  

"Oh... I didn't notice it." Cat frowned a little.  

"Princess." Old Nan called, turning the women's attention to her small frame. "When was the last time you bled?"

"You think I am with child?" Her response was low, shocked. "That is not possible."

"I have seen many winters, child, I know a woman with child when I see one." Old Nan was clearly offended. "Don't believe me? Go see Maester Walys, he will only confirm what I have told you!"

Elia cursed herself for the warmth that took hold of her heart; she shouldn't let hope invade her like that. She couldn't forget what the maester had told her all life or her own mother's experience with childbirth.

"Elia, that is wonderful!" Catelyn squeaked in delight, looking more like a girl than a woman soon to be wed. "You must tell Lord Eddard!"

"Thank you, Cat." Elia smiled at her friend. "But until I know if I am really with child... "Old Nan snorted angrily, but Elia ignored. "I don't want to tell without being sure."

"Of course! I won't tell a soul." Catelyn promised. "Now, go see the Maester, I can take care of the rest, you don't need to worry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, you must take care of your own business." She winked. "We were almost finished anyway."

Elia thanked her again before leaving. She didn't go to see Maester Walys right away, the Princess was still too shocked. She rushed back to her chambers, telling the young servant assigned to her that she didn't want to be disturbed. She stopped in front of the looking glass, staring at her reflection carefully.  

She felt numb, it was obvious that it would be no physical sign of the child growing inside her yet. Still, she kept staring. Elia touched her flat belly and then her breasts, they had been more sensitive for a while now, but she hadn't really paid attention to that. She needed to see the maester.  

She left her chambers at a hurried pace, she needed to know as soon as possible. She didn't remember well where the maester's chamber was located, but many servants gladly helped her to find her way. She just hoped Maester Walys had time to help her; he had been busy with some guests from the riverlands that had gotten sick. She knocked.  

"Princess! How may this humble maester be of your service?" Maester Walys answered the door and gave a big smile after noticing who had knocked.

Don't trust Walys.

Lyanna's warning came into her mind.

"He is a sneaky bastard." She had told her during their journey from White Harbor to Winterfell. "He likes no one but himself and his dreaded citadel. He will smile at you, because he sees an alliance with Dorne. If Walys decides that you are not useful to his plans regarding House Stark, he will get rid of you.  

Seeing Walys' smile, Elia could understand why Lyanna didn't trust him. There was something way of calculating in his eyes; something that warned those who paid enough attention that that man could not be trusted. Her mother had taught her to see beyond smiles and pleasantries; and while Walys was good, it was not enough to fool Elia, who was used to Oberyn's far greater ability to fool those around him. Elia would be careful around the maester, and warn Ned about him, for the boys didn't share Lyanna's suspicion.  

"I have a feeling I might be with child, Maester." She told him after being invited inside, noticing the many books in his table. "I would like to know if it is true."

"Oh, yes... Of course, Princess." He asked her to sit. "Forgive me for the mess, Lord Rickard asked me to copy some old books from the library that were becoming hard to read due to age." He organized his desk a little before turning to Elia. "Tell me, my Princess, when was your last moon blood?"

"It has been a while." She couldn't help but analyze him. Lyanna's suspicion had taken roots. "Maybe three or four moons." The Maester then asked her to stand up and asked permission to take a better look at her belly. "I also have been feeling dizzy and some smells started to bother me lately."

"All the signals point to a child, Princess Elia." The maester smiled again, taking a step back. "My most sincere congratulations."  

Elia was sure her heart would fail at any moment. The happiness she felt was greater than any other, and she wasn't sure she could survive the overwhelming sensation taking over her chest. She was pregnant; she would become a mother. She would have to wait for many moons to hold her child, but she already felt like a mother. Maybe it was like Doran had told her once; men become a father when they hold the babe for the first time, but women were mothers from the moment they allowed the babe to grow inside them.  

"Thank you for your help, Maester Walys!" Elia stood up fast, her voice a bit louder than usual due to her excitement. "But you must promise not to tell a soul; this is Lady Catelyn's moment and I wouldn't want to steal her day."

"Of course, of course." He agreed, but Elia saw suspicion in his eyes. "But I insist that you tell your lord husband, at least."

He thinks I might drink moon tea.

"Once Ned returns from the hunt, I will give him the news." She told him before taking her leave.  

A child

A child

I am with child...

She had been repeating that for hours in her head, and not telling a soul was killing her. At that moment, she was adjusting her golden earrings before heading to the godswood. She had decided to wear an orange dress with red suns on the bodice; she helped her handmaiden to braid a few opals in her hair, a very old Rhoynar custom. She knew some northerner lords looked down on Dorne, and she would be dead before showing off her land's might.  

"You would melt in Dorne if you wore this type of dress, but I wish you would wear northern styles more often." Ned gave her a light kiss before taking her arm. "You look wonderful."

"You look very handsome as well, husband." She noticed that he was wearing the pin she had given him, displaying the sun of house Martell. "I must say, I am happy to finally see a wedding under the Old Gods."

"I have to confess... I have never seen one as well." He said as they approached the godswood. "I have spent my younger years at the Vale and then I went to Dorne, I didn't have a chance to attend a northern wedding."

"Well, at least I won't feel so out of place." She mocked him playfully before stopping to look at the decoration. "It's very simple, just like Lady Barbrey told me."

"Barbrey Ryswell?" Ned asked before looking around, seemed very worried. "She's here?"

"Yes, her house was the first to arrive for the wedding." She frowned, confused by his harsh reaction to the lady's name. "What is the matter?"

"Brandon took her to his bed once." He whispered, pulling Elia with him to stand closer to the heart tree. "His father has been trying to secure a marriage since then, but Barbrey is the one that tries the most... She probably tried to seduce Brandon into her bed again."

Elia instantly felt bad for Catelyn, the Princess felt in her heart that what Ned said had indeed happened and that Brandon had allowed himself to be seduced. In Dorne, there were paramours, but there was always an agreement between husband and wife about it; and if one of them acting against the other, the dornish laws would find a fit punishment.  

Before she could ask anything else, Benjen hurried to their side.

"The ceremony is about to start, come!" The youngest wolf was very excited. "I asked father to hold the best places for us!"

Benjen dragged them with him to his ideal spot to watch the wedding occur. His joyful attitude was enough to take Ned out of his worried state, and Elia decided to let her husband take a break from worrying about every single thing in life.  

Rickard and Brandon were already waiting by the heart tree; the head of House Stark was facing away from it, while his heir was on his side, his head turned to the path from where Catelyn would appear.  

Catelyn came into the godswood, escorted by her brother. She looked gorgeous; her dress, while rather simple, gave her an aura of royalty. Elia had gifted her with a pearl tiara, and the Princess was very happy to see that lady Catelyn had chosen to wear it in such an important event. Edmure was dressed in a very extravagant manner, his clothes were a mix of blue and red, and it made Elia want to laugh.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Lord Stark roared when the Tullys came close enough.

"Catelyn, of the House Tully, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods." Edmure answers with a proudful voice. He was barely older than Benjen, and his pride was already a clear problem. "Who comes to claim her?"

"Brandon, of House Stark, heir to Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Edmure, of the House Tully, her brother."

"Lady Catelyn, do you take this man?" Lord Rickard spoke again.

"I take this man," Catelyn replied with a huge smile.  

Then, Brandon took off her Tully cloak and covered her with the Direwolf of House Stark; he lowered his head to kiss her and it was done. Elia was surprised to see them leaving the godswood right after that; it had been very short and very different from the pompous ceremonies held south of the Neck.

"What do you think?" Ned asked her as they followed the other guests inside.

"It was... fast." She was very surprised, she had expected something very different.  

"Everything is like this around here, I was not as surprised as you, but I understand the feeling." Ned chuckled. He guided her to the great table and pulled the chair for her to sit. "Now, Lord Hoster sent some lemons because Lady Cat loves some her lemon cakes, I asked the cook to save one for us, he will take it to our chambers later."  

"You don't need to pretend you did it for me." She poked his side after he sat down. "You are the one addicted to lemon cakes."  

"Rubbish." He faked and angry expression. "You have no respect for your Lord husband."  

"I will respect my ridiculous excuse of a husband once he controls his urges and let go of his mistress." She joined him in their usual way of jesting. "How can you prefer lemon cake over me, I will never know!"

They both laughed and Ned took her hand in his.  

"There is something I must tell you, Ned." She decided it was time to give him the news.  

"My attention is all your, my lady."  

She guided his hand to touch her belly and first her husband was confused. Understanding slowly took over his face and his eyes met hers; blue against honey.

"Truly?" He whispered.

She just nodded and Ned gave her the sweetest smile, making butterflies fly around in her stomach.

"You mustn't tell a soul for now!" She warned him fast, receiving a confused look. "This is Cat's moment, we tell your family in the morrow."

"If it is my lady's desire." He stood up and offered his hand. "But at least allow me all the dances this night."

She took his hand, and, true to his word, he claimed all the dances

Next Chapter

[eris0330]

Hiraeth - Five

☽Pairing☾ ; BTS | Reader

☽Genre☾ ; Angst | Fluff

☽Word Count☾ ; 1.7k

☽Summary☾ Returning back to Korea after years of being under the ground, to see your parents. You wished it was all it took, to feel complete again. The aftermath of confusion, betrayal and sorrow was the reason to never come back into the boys presents. But it wasn’t until, seeing one them enter the same cafe, at the right time.

☽M. List☾ ;  1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // 18 // 19 // 20 // 21 // 22 [ongoing]

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"You're lying"

"Why would I lie about such a thing?"  

"Because it's you, Jisu. That's why." Wonho snickered in defence, standing up to watch the smirk grow on the women at his couch. His head ringing and banging as the memories returned of your last moments together, as a couple.  

"Because you were such a good boyfriend yourself-" Jisu spat, hitting right in the chest of Wonho. His stupidity to mess around with the enemy, and yet, even without your presence, he continues. "-The presents... late night phone calls with her... while you were right beside Soomi in bed, snuggled and cuddled together under the same blanket of mischief? Right?" Jisu continued to add on, while the feeling of confidence over washed by his grief and regret. The overpowering feel, of doing something so wrong, that the addiction to not get caught became too big.  

"To be fair, I don't get why she would break up with you... frankly, she wasn't any better herself" His eyes, larger and wider than before, sensing the way Jisu's aura changed from calm to bossy. Turning on his heel to lean against the cabinet, folding him arms to protect himself for whatever words would fall out of her mouth.  

"What are you talking about?" There was something inside his head, yelling him to stop. But his need to know about his ‘non-existent’ girlfriend's secret, were too sweet to not taste it. Jisu seemed pleased to catch his ears once more, like she used to do. Her legs crossed in a fine x, to prove the point of dominance.  

"I heard a little bird, that Y/N and Jimin shared a kiss on a lonely night in a hotel room...-" She whispered, but sounded like shouting in Wonho's ears. The truth of your behaviour around the boys, gave a shiver down his spine, that it didn't seem surprising to him at this point. "Some says, they even shared the same neat bed, to cause a mess together"  

A kiss, would be innocent for him, but he knew how easily lust could be involved when lips collided together. That's how you two started the relationship in a frustration of loss, care and loneliness. The feel of each other's bodies so close, and your souls matching like no other. But the thought of your warm body underneath the man of another, gave Wonho a sour taste. He knew how close you were to the boys, but you always assured him that nothing went on.  

"Was this when I was with her?" An open question, that not even himself wanted an answer to. But he knew, that he needed answers, whether he liked it or not. Jisu gave another smile, before standing up to meet his dark gaze underneath his bangs. Her fingers trailing along his tense muscles, to only shrug in the attempt of getting him fired up. It was the same tension, that even started the whole ride of kisses, moans and unforgivable actions. Could he blame you? For letting his guard down so easily, for a tempting woman like Soomi and Jisu. He should feel disgusted, to spend time with the ones who hurt you so deeply. To see your tears, and fear after every event that came. The way he used the word 'love' so easily, to make you blush of his own foolish act, to believe you were only his. It didn't make sense, to why he wasn't feeling that type of regret. What he did, was a part of his life. To never be bound, to one person. But to Wonho, it didn't matter if he were sharing his body to others. As long, you didn't with the group who only fueled your smile brighter than he could.  

"Does anyone else know she's here?" To separate the lips between sinful people, he couldn't bear the thought you were maybe, only a few metres away. To see you, to feel you, to be a part of your life, once more. To restore, what he broke. Jisu's eyes glared, but felt soft and sorrowful. She wasn't afraid to let Wonho believe a lie, whether it was the truth or not. But she loved seeing him suffer, and come to her embrace when everything came to an end. It’s the type of high, she couldn't let go.  

"Maybe? Who knows. Maybe she's back in Jimin's arms again." She sang, as the feel of Wonho's hands pushing her away from the spontaneous act. His body disappearing out of the exit, to only leave her confident body alone in his room. As they both knew, they would always find each other, right there.  

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"Do we really have to...?" Namjoon questioned, looking into the dark room from the hallway and the boys surrounding in a circle. The silhouette of a bed and other important furniture and the creek of moonlight shining through.  

"Someone has to. Besides, it's been like 4 years since we cleaned in there, or even more? Who knows how many times she even got herself to clean it?" Jin responded with a duster in his hands, while the light flickered on to show the feminine white bedroom come to view. Your red bed sheets and scattered clothes on the floor, with the framed picture of them all aligning the walls. It was exactly, like you left it. A twisted stomach, to the thought of either invading your privacy, or the fact that they had to face something they ignored for so long.  

"What if... we find something in there?" Taehyung added to the Pandora's box, to make their eyebrows raise in confusion and share a look in between. Scratching the back of his neck, while scanning the overview of exhaustion and personalised decorations threatening tears to fall. "You know... like... hidden stuff..." He finished, making Jin giggle lightly, while the idea of your dirty personality come to surface in the moment of being vulnerable.  

"She's not into dirty magazines... I think" Hoseok answered back, being the first to walk in. The dust around him, already tickling his nose to open the blinds. The moon merging with the light above, to add a different aura.

“I think she’s the type to read erotic novels or watch porn online” Namjoon explained bluntly, to ease the moment to bring a smile before bringing the guts to enter. It was warm, sweet and it felt like home. A place, they never thought they would feel again as they all walked in. You were lucky enough to get the biggest room, despite being the only female. But there was something about the idea, that you needed the space to feel like a woman, around the pack of testosterone.  

"Is that...?" Jungkook pointed towards a black leather strap peeking underneath the bed, with wide shocked eyes as the boys followed his finger. Their positions frozen, before Yoongi had the guts to pull it out in curiosity. The straps turning to be a body garter with clear worn out streaks following the expensive fabric.  

"Oh right!" Hoseok blurted out, zoning out of the shock to take the garter in his own hands. His eyes lighting up, to confuse the other members who clearly couldn't understand his excitement. "It's from that era! She wore this, like five times to music shows until we changed the style again" He explained with a fond smile, remembering how you were complaining about the way you could barely get it on, without breaking anything. It took you longer than expected, and always asked for Hoseok's help whenever you were in the waiting room. He didn't know why you asked him, but something made him feel grateful to be the one to do it for you. The boys vocalising an admiration and remembrance of that one era, that the fans were wilding over. But the numerous scandals, were enough to make the stylists change. Taehyung clapped his hands, to get everyone's attention once again.  

"Well, we won't ever get to clean this room if we don't start now." He commented, making Jin start his dusting and the boys following along. The scattered clothes piled into a mountain, and making sure that everything was going to be washed, whether it was used or not. Their bodies stopping from time to time, finding themselves holding onto a piece of memory in their hands. The door bell ringing loudly late evening, making them wonder who it could be. Their shared stares, confirmed no one expected guests at this time around.  

"I'll get it" Jimin spoke, as the first words since the cleaning began. He couldn't get himself to touch any of your stuff, like you were right beside him. To tell him the tiny stories, of how you got a scar, a gift or even just plain conversations between close friends. He was never over the fact you were gone, to never share the dark secrets within and had to close off from the others. Jimin knew he could tell the members, but there was also a fear, that no one would understand. His hands embracing the cold door handle, to see a familiar face appear. The dark locks surrounding the expression of confusion and grief, the smell of booze urging his nostrils before a pair of hands grabbed Jimin's collar.  

"Did you sleep with Y/N while we were together?!" The furious anger in Wonho's eyes, and strength pressing Jimin against the wall as the height difference didn't make it easier. There were a type of fear burning from Jimin’s eyes, but more of all, confusion.  

"What are you talking about??" Jimin spoke firmly, making the boys run to rescue. Frozen at the scene of two men, but even shocked at the appearance of Wonho in their entrance. His eyes blood shot, an liquor smell arousing the room he entered. His hands holding harshly onto the shirt’s collar, as the fury grew bigger. His raspy voice echoing in their ears, as he screamed to understand it all. To understand himself.  

"Don't fucking play with me kid...-" He laughed manically but exhausting, pushing harder at the shocked man in front. The tiny yelps and clothes stretching at the fists of Wonho's hands. The members around, watching the scene unfold and confused to whether what was going on. His gritted teeth blinding at the dim lights, of the anger that could explode to another level like a bomb.  

"-When I dated her. Did you and Y/N kiss-...? Did you, or did you not fuck each other in a hotel room...?!"