#after i finish this tatters run ill try n do it

[swordtit]

i need to do a run of fh in which i just let like a d4+ decide all my choices

[laurensxox]

Fandom :: The Arcana

Pairing :: Julian Devorak x Reader (Not Apprentice)

Requested? :: no

Warning/s :: Julian's Route (Upright) and New Tale Spoilers, Named Apprentice, Female Reader, Chronic Illness, Swearing, Author is projecting their longing

Genre :: Angst

Summary :: Julian spends the night reminiscing over childhood memories and longing to go back to the past where he was in Nevivon again, playing as carefree as one can be with the one person he truly cared about other than his younger sister

Author's Note :: Stark, if you're reading this, I'm fighting you for this dramatic, self-sacrificing dumbdumb-

Song Inspiration :: Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars

Portia's Cottage :: Just After Sundown

A chuckle left the auburn haired man as he watches Pasha relay stories of their childhood to their friends, informing them of how they were raised by a group of grandmothers and how their parents actually perished from a shipwreck caused by a rather strong storm. Mazelinka quickly add in how much of a troublemaker the two of them has become as the years pass by, didn't even waste the chance to tell them about the tooth fairy situation which caused Julian to go beet red in mild embarassment. Their friends were in no need to know that story!

Shaking his head, he let a more genuine smile form on his face. As embarrassed as he is right now, he was happy to see everyone laughing jovially without the fear of Lucio's plans with the Devil weighing on their shoulders. A warm sensation forms in his chest as he tries to hold in his laughter as Pasha nearly slips on her feet with her excitement to share their history. It was nice to be able to just laugh and and thrive in the positive energy inside the cottage! Even Muriel, their very introverted friend, seems to be relaxed as he lets Allen (Apprentice) braid his hair using flower stems while Asra leans on his side.

Looking at the trio and sensing the strong forming bond between Pasha and the Countess, Julian couldn't help the small pang of longing swell somewhere within himself. He couldn't stop his mind from pushing forward memories he tried to bury and lock away.

"Ilya, help! I'm slipping!"

"Don't worry, I'll catch you!"

The longing pang quickly turned to pain as the memories rushes back to the surface. He could feel his hand start to tremble as the formerly locked away memories barrels it's way to the front of his mind. Jumbled memories of playing tag and tending to scraped knees should have made him feel fond but it makes feel nothing but longing. Longing for a time and companionship he knows he'll never be able to have again.

Taking a deep breath, he hadn't noticed that he had closed his eyes until he opened them. With him being occupied with trying to stir himself away from the path of self-loathing once again, he hadn't noticed how quiet the cottage had gotten, its other residents looking at him with concerned eyes. Not even the Familiars scattered in the room made a noise.

He forced a laugh to ease the sudden change of atmosphere in the cottage, hoping it sounded convincing enough to clear the concern away from his family and friends' eyes. While he has come to terms that it's okay to ask and receive help instead of keeping things to himself, he still struggles with it. And it was obvious with the way he tries to act like he was okay, that he wasn't just bombarded with memories he doesn't want to remember.

"What is with that look, my dear friends? I am perfectly well, no worries!" he exclaimed, giving them his usual smirk and raised eyebrow, internally hoping it'll be enough to convince them that there was nothing to be concerned about. "There is nothing in this world that this handsome and smart devil can't handle!" His little comment about himself seems to be the right thing to say as his friends immediately rolled their eyes in fond exasperation. Although, by the look of his sister and honorary grandmother, he guessed that they have seen right through him and he can already see his funeral-

He gave a small sigh and let a small weary look replace his earlier expression, "I'll just head outside to take in a quick breath of fresh air," he said as he quickly exited the cottage before his two family member could say anything. Knowing that they'll probably just follow right after him, he quickly made his way away from the cottage and into the hedge maze by the palace gardens. It took him a while to get to the center but he was relieved to see it empty. Consul Valerius has taken to drinking his usual wine there in this time so he was quite happy to see that for once, the Consul broke his routine. He needed to be alone right now.

Taking a seat in one of the chairs surrounding a rounded table, he crossed his arms on the table and used it to rest his head upon. Taking another deep breath to calm his racing heart, he closed his eyes.

Maybe he needs to stop locking away these memories, he has only done so before due to his need to focus on finding the cure for the plague and then having to focus to not get caught by the patrolling palace guards when he was still a wanted convict. The memories and the longing for his childhood best friend used to be a big distraction for him while he was still working under Valdemar.

He didn't need to do any of those anymore... So maybe...

The soft rapid footsteps echoed in the small forest near the town of Nevivon, followed by the childish giggling of two children. Both children wore a tattered white sheet of cloth, the corners wrapped around their necks in a way that resembles that of a cape. Whilst in their heads rests crudely made paper crowns.

Young Julian and his best friend, (Y/N), were already considered too old for these kind of games by some of the grandmas and fellow children but the two gave them no mind, choosing to continue living in their fantasy world until they were truly too old for it.

The two children stopped once they have reached the center of the forest where a small meadow hides in. It was decorated by dozens of wild flowers and the breeze were always refreshing. The two has deemed this as their spot when they had first found it years ago, back when they were much younger.

They call the meadow as their kingdom, where they are the rulers, side by side as King and Queen. The wild flowers are their loyal subjects and sometimes, when Pasha joins them, she acts as their ambassador.

Young Julian kneeled as they reach the very center that they always keep clean, it was their designated throne room. The young boy carefully plucked a blue hued flower from the ground, he didn't know what kind of flower it was but it was pretty, a perfect gift for his 'Queen'

As if mocking the reminiscing man, right across from him and innocently clinging to the hedge wall was the very same flower that he had picked back then. He didn't know if he wants to sneer at it or be fond of it. He wished he has a glass of Salty Bitters right now, maybe he should have headed to Rowdy Raven instead of here.

"Would you have approved of the man that I have become, (Y/N)?" he whispered as he stares at the flower, as if it would miraculously turn into his childhood friend and answer him. Maybe that was possible? Allen did transform him into Asra back then, would the illusion work on a plant as well? But then again, that will be all it'll ever be. Just an illusion.

The grandmas all exchanged fond gazes as they watch their resident troublemakers sing songs with all their heart, their love for the dramatic was very much obvious at that moment.

Little Portia was banging on pots like drums by the sidelines, sometimes singing some lines as well when prompted by either her older brother or the girl she was starting to see as her older sister.

He stood up from his place and started to make his way out of maze. He wasn't going to go back in the cottage nor was he in any hurry, he just felt too restless to stay sitted in one place. He has gotten used to always moving around with all his running from guards and fighting a Major Arcana. But before he went back to trying to find his way in the maze, he stopped in front of the flower that he has been staring at.

It was a small flower with 6 petals that looks blue and violet at the same time, the bud in the middle was light green in color and it was the only flower growing in the hedge. From what Julian remembers, these flowers grow in bundles. So to see one so alone, well, it didn't help the growing hole inside him.

Gently plucking the flower like he did so in his childhood, he observed the flower a little more before making his way back into maze, taking the small flower with him. Surely, the Countess would not mind him plucking such a small wild flower, now would she?

Julian looked up from his book as he felt something soft being places om his hair, looking up, he saw (Y/N) placing what looks to be a bunch of flowers weaved together in a circlet manner on top of his head. Something similar on her own head as well.

"What are you doing, peanut?" he asked the girl, gently closing his book and waiting for the other to finish adjusting the flowers. He had taken to calling her 'Peanut' after he had caught her trying to sneakily take the peanuts in the communal pantry. He didn't snitch to the grandmas, of course.

"Just adjusting your flower crown, bum-bum" she answered, making small more adjustments before appearing satisfied that the flower crown both looks good and will surely stay on her friend's head when they begin to trek their way home later.

The Doctor surprisingly got out pretty easy, definitely faster than when he was first trying to get to the heart of the maze. Looking down at the flower, he let a sad smile adorn his face.

"I suppose even after all these years, you're still my lucky charm, huh, (Y/N)?" he mumbled under his breath, giving the one of the petals a small kiss before continuing to walk.

He didn't really have a destination, the palace grounds was vast and there are still some areas of it that he hasn't been to. Maybe a little exploring wouldn't hurt? He hopes Pasha wouldn't get too worried if he takes too long to get back to her cottage, he does often find himself in troubling situations.

"You know what? I wouldn't even ask how you manage to be in this situation." (Y/N) said, crossing her arms as she narrows her eyes at the boy dangling before her.

Julian had, at that moment, managed to get himself tangled in the vines surrounding the branches of the tree. Truth be told, he was trying to climb the tree in order to get fresh fruits for his sister and best friend. But when he finally managed to get on a branch, a crow suddenly flew out of its nest and caused him to go off balance, fortunately being caught by the vines, no matter how tangled up he got.

He wouldn't tell her that though, lord knows she wouldn't let him live it down.

"Why, my dear peanut, I was just trying to see how strong these vines are and if they would make a good rope!" It was honestly a good excuse for him, but apprently not good enough for (Y/N) as she just raised her eyebrow at him, clearly not believing him.

After a good bit of exploring, he manages to find himself near the fountains where he saw the trio couple making their way back to the palace. Were they on their way home already? How long has he been outside? Shaking his head, he called for their attention and made his way to them.

"Going home already?" he asked, raising a brow as he observes the many colorful flowers adoring Muriel's hair. It was quite a new look on the tall man but it surprisingly suits him. Seeing his friend give him a narrowed look, he moved his gaze to the two magicians.

"Yeah, I'm feeling quite a bit tired already and Asra wanted to do a quick inventory of the stocks we have left in the shop" Allen explained, moving to lightly keep their wild green hair out of their sight. It was getting a little long, they might need a cut soon. "Though, we don't plan to stay there for the whole night, just a quick inventory and dinner then straight to Muri's where we'll sleep for tonight" the apprentice added, giving the taller doctor a smile.

"I see, I see! Well, don't let me hold you back for any longer, have a safe walk home!" he exclaimed, moving to walk further before he was stopped by a gentle grip on his wrist. Turning back, he saw that it was Allen who held him back. He could see the concern swirling in their green eyes but the smile never faltered away from their face. "Yes, dear?" he asked.

"You know you can talk to us if there's something bothering you, right? You don't have to if you're not comfortable but just remember that we're here, okay?" Moved by their words, Julian pulled them into a sideway hug and let out a genuine laugh. He was so lucky to have his friends. Sometimes he still thinks he doesn't deserve them but he knew to keep it to himself for now. He didn't fancy sitting through another lecture session about his self worth by his sister again.

"Aw, Allen, don't you worry about lil 'ol me! I'm quite alright now!" That was a lie, he was far from alright, but his friend doesn't need to know that. "I may talk to Pasha and Mazelinka about it so no need to worry that cute little head of yours" That seemed to settle the Apprentice as they pulled away from the hug and gave his arm one last pat before moving to stand between their partners.

"You should do that now before Portia wears a hole in her carpet with how much she's pacing when we left" Asra said before he and the other two gave the auburn haired man one last wave and left.

Deciding to do as his magician friend said, he started his way back to his sister's cottage. Earlier was such a good day, it wouldn't do to plague his sister with worries and sour up the light mood. He already did that earlier before he walked out, best not make it worse.

Looking up at the dark sky, he smiled as he admires the scattered stars. It was a beautiful night, the full moon was giving the world such a soft look and it made things seem so peaceful. It made him feel like he was back to laying in the meadow near Nevivon. Like he was laying next to... Next to...

He wasn't able to wipe away his tears before they begun to fall down his cheeks. A sob fought its way out of his throat as he falls to a crouch.

Fuck, he wants to go back. He really really wants to go back-

Julian observed the wide sky and the many stars on them, it was a beautiful night and the night breeze was cold and as he lays on the equally cool grass of the meadow, it soothes his heated skin. It made him sigh in contentment, what more could he want?

Looking at his left, he smiled as he sees his sleeping sister. The little girl had decided to join them that night in their nightly star gazing but it didn't take long before she fell asleep, not used to staying up later than her bedtime. He'll have to carry her home later on.

The sight on his right took his breath away. Blush rushed to his face as he seems to see his best friend in a completely different light.

There, laying beside him, was (Y/N). The moonlight was softly hitting her face, and it made her (eye color) so much more brighter like gems, like the stars that littered the dark sky above them. Her laugh as she continues to talk about the astrology that she learned from Mazelinka, sounds like soothing bells to his ears.

Since when has his peanut became this... pretty?

He longs to be in her arms again, he longs to hear her voice again. No doubt it would still sound like music to his ears. He wants to make flower crowns again, he wants to play king and queen again, he wants to stargaze with her again, he wants to sneakily steal cookies, hangout by the hot springs, pick flowers for the grandmas, share lessons with Lilinka, he wants to...

He really wants to see her again.

Julian sat on her bed by her side, his hand gently holding her weaker and much fragile one, her illness eating away her strength. Her ring finger still holds the flower ring he had made earlier that week, it was already wilting but the girl refuses to take it off.

"I made up my mind." he said, breaking the solemn silence in the room. It made the other look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I'll take the offer to study medicine in Prakra" he explained, finally looking at his best friend and secretly, the girl who has his heart in her gentle grip for he doesn't think his bestfriend could ever be harsh, other than when she's twisting his ear for getting in trouble without her

But he can't, he knew he can't. She probably hates him, gotten word of his 'crimes' and no longer sees him as her best friend. But as a murderer, a plague doctor who assisted his superior on experimenting to dying plague victims in search of the cure.

She probably already has a family of her own now, has 3 children like she once said she wanted. Probably has a nice spouse that always makes her laugh and will never hurt her. A spouse that doesn't have their sins still haunting them in every step and breath they take.

"You're leaving me?" the pain in her voice was clear, she was hurt at the thought. They had planned to wait for her to be cured before they decide to go out of their hometown to travel, to study medicine like they always dreamed of.

"Not for long, I know we planned to study together but..." He took a deep breath, "I'm doing this for you, (Y/N), I want to study now for you"

Silence filled the room once again.

Julian clutched up at his coat, the place right over his heart where it hurts the most. He had completely fallen to his knees, tears continues to drip down to the ground from his eyes, his other hand gripping the ground.

Whispered apologies leaving his mouth over and over again.

"Promise me you'll come back? That you won't forget about me?"

Julian stared at his love's dull but hopeful (eye color) orbs, hisbhand momentarily leaving hers to gently caress her cheek.

"I'm so sorry... (Y/N), I'm so sorry..."

"I promise"

"I broke our promise... I'm so sorry, my love..."

[...]

Meanwhile, in the same meadow of Julian's memories, sits a much grown up version of the girl in his memories. Body trembling as sobs come right after one another, clutching a bundle of those same blue wildflowers to her chest. Her eyes tightly shut as tears falls to the ground of her childhood. The girl looked up, staring at the same moon that Julian was previously admiring.

"Where are you, Ilya? I thought you'll come back... You promised... You promised..."

Anyone interested in a reunion sequel? 👀

My apologies if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, I just woke up when I finished this lol

Anyways, I hope you all liked this! Let me know what you think, don't be shy! 💙

[limjaeseven]

The Day (7/8)

VERSE 2: PART 7 OF 8

Pairing: Jinyoung X Jaebeom ft Seulgi of Red Velvet

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 2,217

Summary: Jaebeom is gone and Jinyoung is broken. But there's one last thing that the elder left for his best friend.

Warning(s): sad Jinyoung, mental breakdown, eulogy

[a/n]: I know this part is pretty late but it’s been sitting ready for a long time and has been up on my ao3 for a while but I hate posting stuff here cause it never shows up in tags :/

Jinyoung’s memories of his last few days were hazy at best. He only felt the reality of the situation sink in as he was on an airplane, flying home. He didn’t remember leaving the hospital, the only thing that was on his mind was the news report. Even though he didn’t understand a word of it, the picture of Jaebeom, face down on the road plagued him.

Jaebeom was gone. Jinyoung wished he could wake up from the horrible nightmare he was living through but regardless of how many times he pinched himself, Jaebeom was still not in the room next to his. He tried to tell himself it was just Jaebeom ignoring him again, but the sound of the elder’s mother crying was enough to tell him that it was real.

Jaebeom was dead. The funeral was held three days after he passed away, in a small cemetery close to their house. Jinyoung thought of the day they had come to bury Jaebeom’s cat in that very same place. Jaebeom had been devastated through it, Jinyoung sat there by him, letting him cry on his shoulder for hours as the evening turned to night.

Jinyoung had to physically drag Jaebeom home because the elder refused to leave. He was 21 at the time, still high off the success of Icarus. Jaebeom had loved her a lot and letting her go was one of the hardest things he had to ever do. Or so Jinyoung thought, blissfully ignorant of the sword of Damocles hanging over his head. 

Jaebeom’s mother had been able to get him a spot right next to his cat, where the two had often joked they would lay to rest together when they were to die. There was still a spot empty next to Jaebeom but Jinyoung tried not to think about it. He was supposed to give Jaebeom’s eulogy but all he could do was cry. Jinyoung was never one to cry but seeing Jaebeom like that, knowing that it would be the last time he would ever see him, it burst the dam inside Jinyoung.

As he was beating himself up for not being able to say one word about Jaebeom to the people crowding around him despite the fact that he was Jaebeom’s best friend, a pat on his back pulled him out of his head. He turned around to see Seulgi standing there, a sombre smile on her face.

“He promised me to never tell you. I was the one who blocked your number, I was the reason you weren't able to get to Jaebeom. I hope you don’t hold it against him, he just wanted you to be happy, Jinyoung'' Despite Seulgi’s attempts to calm him down, her words just multiplied the guilt in his heart. Of course Jaebeom would never ignore him just like that, how could he have been such a fool? How could he have hurt Jaebeom so bad? Coward, Jinyoung thought as he looked at Jaebeom’s father trying to console his mother. He didn’t even have the courage to say a word about Jaebeom, a man that meant so much to him.

Jinyoung took deep breaths as he felt himself sink into his mind, it had been happening a lot since Jaebeom left. Jinyoung found recluse in a part of his mind aloof from the real world, he spent hours there, not thinking, not feeling. He didn’t know what else to do. Thinking about the days he cried about his hyung not being in the other room felt like a lifetime ago, because he knew Jaebeom was never coming back. 

The memories of Jaebeom rushed to his mind, from the day they had first met to their time in school together, random moments from high school, scenes from Icarus and it was just too much. Just as they were about to leave, Jinyoung cleared his throat, looked at the ground where Jaebeom was resting and wiped his tears with the back of his hand.

“I met Lim Jaebeom when I was five,” Everyone looked up in shock at Jinyoung but the younger continued, just thinking of the elder, “He was the most grumpy, lazy, good for nothing, kind, caring, and talented people I had ever met in my life. We had our ups and downs, sure; there was a time we both thought our friendship was done, sure; but not once did he ever not be the rock in my life, the only person that kept me going when things were hard. He never told me about his illness because he knew it would hurt me. That was the man Jaebeom hyung was. He was selfless to a fault, and he took my rage because of it. There are a million things I want to apologise to you for, hyung, and a hundred times as many things for which I want to thank you. I couldn’t possibly ever truly be able to express everything that you were to me, but I can say this much; thank you for always being there for me, even when I was horrible to you. Thank you for loving me when I hated myself. Thank you for coming into my life and showing me a world that I never knew existed. Thank you for being you. I’m sorry I was never good enough, but I will try to live on, just for you, because that’s what you would have wanted. I love you, hyung, and I always will. Look after me from up in the sky if you can.”

Jinyoung hugged Jaebeom’s mother tightly as he helped her into the car, waving her and Jaebeom’s father off as they drove away. Jinyoung didn’t want to go back home, it reminded him too much of Jaebeom but he didn’t have much of a choice. He wanted to return Jaebeom’s possessions to his parents so he had to pack everything as soon as he could.

But that didn’t end well, because less than five minutes in, Jinyoung was curled up on the floor with Jaebeom’s leather duffle bag clutched against his chest, tears streaming down his face. The item still smelled like him, Jinyoung thought, picturing Jaebeom with the bag slung over his shoulder as they boarded the plane to Hokkaido.

It was too difficult to even be in a five meter radius of the room, let alone going through Jaebeom’s things. Just being in the same space that the elder was in not days before made Jinyoung’s eyes well with tears. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t part with the things that showed that Jaebeom was a part of his life for so many years. Even though he would always be in Jinyoung’s heart, he had already seen what the room looks like when empty and he hated the mere thought of it.

It took a while for him to muster up enough courage to tell Jaebeom’s mom that he wouldn’t be able to return his things, but she immediately shut him down, telling him that she wanted him to have Jaebeom’s things. She knew how much they meant to Jinyoung and wanted him to keep them for as long as he wanted them.

Jinyoung took two weeks off work to put himself back together and spent the entirety of it in Jaebeom’s room. The place had become a sort of safe haven for Jinyoung, reminding him of Jaebeom enough for him to still imagine that the man was alive. He cleared up the mess in his room, folded and arranged all his clothes, dusted his shelves of records. 

Just as Jinyoung was finishing up with Jaebeom’s closet, he noticed a box at the back of the shelf. Pulling it out, he realised it was the box for Jaebeom’s watch, and the tears were in his eyes before he could even process what he was doing. Placing the elder’s watch which Jaebeom’s mother had given to Jinyoung at the funeral in the box, he closed it shut and shoved into a corner, not wanting to look at it ever again. His own watch had mysteriously started counting the same second over and over again, the time same as that of Jaebeom’s death and burial; 1:31:23.

Looking through Jaebeom’s desk was probably the hardest task of all. The drawers were full of photos of the two of them at various points in their friendship, from the photo Jinyoung took of Jaebeom with his father’s camera when they were five to selfies they took with a disposable camera in Paris while Jinyoung was shooting a movie. Memories that Jinyoung knew he would never get to relive ever again. Jinyoung cried more than he probably had in his entire life in those two weeks. 

Jaebeom’s computer was just as bad, full of more videos and photos of the two of them, including a couple of songs Jinyoung had never heard of. He thought they were by some indie artist Jaebeom listened to but after seeing the producing software and notebooks full of lyrics, he realised what they really were.

Listening to one was painful enough, Jaebeom’s deep voice reaching Jinyoung’s soul, talking about people he loved, about feelings he had, the hardships he faced. There were at least fifty songs that Jaebeom had written that Jinyoung had never known about, just one mildly familiar one which he realised was part of the score for Icarus. He had never questioned where the song came from, never realising it was part of Jaebeom’s craft.

After having gone through every bit of Jaebeom’s room, Jinyoung downloaded a copy of Jaebeom’s songs on his phone and grabbed just the watch box and Jaebeom’s duffle bag before stepping out of the room and locking the door behind him. He was still to go through said bag before he was just too scared to. It was the last thing that Jaebeom had on him before he left Jinyoung, the younger was just not willing to part with it.

He wanted Jaebeom’s parents to have something of his present, or at least recent past, other than the things they had for Jaebeom’s childhood. The watch and bag were his best bet at something symbolic enough that they didn’t resent him for keeping that part of Jaebeom away from them. The bag especially, Jinyoung remembered the smile on Jaebeom’s face when he’d received it from his dad. 

Jaebeom had joined their school athletics team after Jinyoung had gotten selected for it, which Jinyoung realised was something he probably did for him knowing how bad running was for his condition. He unfortunately only had a tattered, old bag he carried to school for his shoes and uniform, while all the other members had owned fancy bags from big brands and they had often made fun of the boy for it. Even though he never told his father anything about the incidents, he received the bag for his birthday and it was one of Jaebeom’s favourite possessions ever since.

So the bag for his dad and the watch for his mom, Jinyoung thought, standing at the edge of the pathway at the edge of the road that led to their house. Before he got too far in though, curiosity took over Jinyoung and the strong urge to look inside the bag latched onto him.

Sitting down there, on the gravel on the pathway to Jaebeom’s parents’ house, Jinyoung zipped open the bag to find a few pairs of clothes, a small notebook and an mp3 player with a pair of headphones. Flipping over to the first page of the book, Jinyoung saw the familiar scribble of Jaebeom’s handwriting. But instead of it being a normal diary entry, it was a list of instructions, addressed directly to Jinyoung. 

With shaking hands, Jinyoung followed what was said, and before he knew it, he was having a full mental breakdown, crying his eyes out and scratching at his own face as he read, and heard, what Jaebeom had to say to him. He couldn’t hate the elder he realised, he knew that well, but he did have hatred in his heart, towards himself. Knowing that he’s the reason Jaebeom lost so many precious moments of his life, he’s the reason the elder suffered, it was enough to make Jinyoung lose his mind entirely. He saw the watch box next to him and it tipped him over the edge, Jinyoung used his hands to dig up the mud around him and bury it in the ground, never wanting to look at it ever again.

The next thing Jinyoung knew, he was being shaken awake by a woman he’d never seen before. She kept calling him by his name but he didn’t know how she knew that. He looked around himself and he had no idea where he was. He just had a soft song playing in his ears, a deep voice singing about losing himself, and Jinyoung liked that voice. He wanted to listen to that song live someday. The woman kept trying to pull him out of his world but he didn’t know her. He realised he didn’t know where his own home was, who his parents were, he just knew his name and a ghost of a name that he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

[alicedopey]

The Enslaved Witch

(moodboard by @tephi101​ )

Genre: (Slight) Romance

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco X Reader

Words: 5116 

Warning: Some violence

Summary: Orphaned, you find yourself between the clutches of your stepmother who took everything away from you..even your wand.

A/N: This was written for @tephi101​ Dark Disney and Other Fairy Tales writing challenge. It’s been a long time since I’ve written something for Harry Potter. Hope I won’t disappoint. 

Life used to be good on you. Born in a wealthy family, raised by loving parents who would catch the moon for you, becoming one of the most successful students at Hogwarts in your year – well you did not count Hermione Granger since she was in Gryffindor and not Ravenclaw.

Life was good, almost surreal…even if coming from a pureblood family had its flaws. You family had always been respected until your father married your mother, a muggle. A simple muggle he had met during one of his trips around Europe. Your mother was this sweet and clever lady coming from a wealthy French family. She was lovely, delicate and very beautiful.

Your grandparents did not care. They would not accept the idea that a muggle would be part of their family, let alone thinking that one of their grandchildren would have muggle blood running through their veins. They cut out your father from the family. It was really difficult for him but he always claimed he loved you and your mother above all. And that was enough for all of you…

Then everything abruptly stopped when the second wizarding war started. The life choice of your father made him an easy target for the Death Eaters. He was a traitor – and traitors had to be killed. But they did not kill your father. No. They attacked your mother; your sweet, innocent and defenseless mother. Devastated and scared, your father took you with him and fled to France. He managed to find himself a good situation thanks to your mother’s connections, far away from the storm that was going on in England.

Soon, he met someone. A certain Madame de Lecharlesse, widowed with two daughters around your age. She was cold but nice and she even managed to convince your father to go back to England a couple of years after the war. Going back was a blessing though you had troubles living in your old house without the presence of your mother at the beginning. You were trying to stay positive now that you were back in familiar grounds. Maybe you could go back to Hogwarts and finish your studies to find an interesting job and start anew.

It was never meant to happen. All of a sudden, your father got seriously ill and it was not long before he passed away. Things took a dramatic turn, then. Lady de Lecharlesse revealed her true face.

She made you leave your old bedroom to go and live in the attic, stole all your possessions and clothes to give them away to her awfully spoiled daughters and more importantly, she took away your wand, stating that you had no right to use magic since you were no pureblood. You became a real servant in your own home. No one could help you since you did not have time to reach any acquaintances when you had come back. It was only you and your horrible fate, now.

“Y/N!”

You closed your eyes and tried not to let out the sigh so eager to leave your lips. Things could turn ugly when she was vexed.

“I’m coming, Mother.” You replied softly.

Your stepmother was standing in the living room, waiting for you with her two daughters at her side, like minions.

“There you are! Have you finished your morning chores?”

“Yes…”

She squinted her eyes. “Yes?”

Again, your eyes closed and you fought the strong will to sigh. “Yes, mother.”

It hurt to say the word. There was nothing of a mother coming from her, quite the contrary.

“Don’t act so ungrateful after everything I’ve done for you.”

Like what? Giving away your bedroom to her daughters? Turning you into a slave into your own house? Merlin knows there was no reason to be grateful for that.

“I need you to do something for me if you wish to go to that ball tonight.”

Her daughters gasped outraged while your eyes widened at her words. Since she got this owl about a ball for single witches and wizards, you had restlessly asked her to let you go there. As a single witch, you had every right to attend that event and meet a lovely man who was looking for a wife.

To say you were surprised she finally agreed to it was an understatement. She had claimed you were not witch enough and that no wizard in their right mind would be willing to add you to their lineage.

“Mother!” Odette cried. “You cannot let her go over there with us. “It would be an insult”.

Francette did not add anything but frowned as if to show her agreement with her sister – or maybe it was disagreement.

The mother raised her hand and the complaints died instantly. “Y/N will be able to go if she succeeds in doing what I will ask of her.”

Your stomach churned at the thought. You knew whatever she would ask would not be pleasing for you to do. Her daughters seemed to share the same train of thoughts than you because two smiles appeared on their faces.

“Odette needs a room of her own now. I think it is time to clean the spare room nobody is currently using.”

The spare room. The room where all of your mother’s belongings had been stocked.

“Of course, by cleaning I mean getting rid of everything.”

This time, you closed your eyes to prevent the tears from falling. It was low, extremely low. She knew what she was doing.

“I’ll do it.” You answered in a whisper.

Her eyebrows perked up. She clearly was not expecting that reaction from you. Nonetheless, she composed herself rapidly and what appeared to be a soft smile pulled at her lips.

“Very well. The room will have to be emptied and cleaned before we leave tonight. Of course, you will do everything the muggle way. No magic can be trusted coming from you. Moreover, you will have to find something decent to wear for the occasion.”

Of course. “Yes, mother.”

“It seems we have come to an agreement, then.” She dismissed you with a wave of her hand and you left in a hurry.

Cleaning up the place was harder than you had thought, especially without a wand…and because you took your time to look at every piece before putting it away. It broke your heart to throw away all of your mother’s things. Those were your last memories of her and you held on to them dearly. That awful stepmother of yours was very well aware of that, she wanted to break you. Why? Because you had muggle blood in your veins – that and the fact that you were the last human being alive in your family. Her last barrier to get all of the money…money that she was already enjoying more than she should. There was one thing bothering her though. She could not get your part of the gain unless you gave it to her willingly or that you suddenly disappeared. In order to do so, she was trying to push all of your buttons but you would not give her the pleasure to leave everything behind in her clutches. All of this was rightfully yours. She had destroyed a lot of things already, you would not let her destroy this too.

You admired your mother’s beautiful gowns and wonderful sketches she used to love drawing in her free time and from what you remembered, she was quite gifted. She had made several portraits like the one you were looking at with tears in your eyes. It was a representation of the three of you in the garden. You were probably 8 or 9 at the time but the memory of this joyful was still vivid in your mind. Throwing it away was out of the question so you decided to hide it in your tiny room in the attic. Same for the beautiful peach gown worn by your mother. It could perfectly fit for the bachelor ball. Yes…

The clock struck 7:00. It was time. You rapidly gathered the mask, the dress and the matching shoes. Then you ran to the attic to get dressed. The dress clung perfectly to your body. Tears came to your eyes. You could almost smell her floral scent.

“Y/N! We’re waiting.” Of course, inspection time!

When you entered the spare room, the three women were inspecting everything closely to search for something you would have left behind….and to give them a reason to punish you. Lady de Lecharlesse noticed your presence and looked up at you. If she was surprised to see you wearing something else than your usual rags, she did not show it. Her two daughters ware gaping at you, though.

When you looked at their attire, you did your best not to smile. There were wearing awful dresses, way too tight for them and the colors were so bright you blinked. But of course, they thought they looked amazingly beautiful.

“I have to admit you did well.” Your stepmother stated softly. “Looks like you will be able to go to the ball after all.”

She took a few steps towards you. “What a lovely dress you got, there. It was your mother, wasn’t it?”

“Y-yes…” Where was this going?

She leaned over you and you fought the urge to step back. Something was definitely off.

“You probably found it here.” She turned towards her girls and winked at them. “When I specifically told you to get rid of everything.”

She faced you, wand in hand. Something clenched in your stomach, a strong fear possessed all of your body. “You disobeyed and for that…Diffindo!” She screamed, pointing her wand at you.

As soon as the curse hit your chest, your dress was torn apart and you found yourself in undergarments in the middle of the room. You looked down at the tatters of the gown, then up at their satisfied smiles and felt a burning rage boiling in the pit of your stomach.

“You had no right to do that! I – I was just…”

The back of her hand collided with your cheek. “I have every right, you ungrateful brat! Don’t forget who you are talking to… Consider yourself for not being punished more. I don’t have time to deal with you right now…” She was so close to you, she was almost spitting on your face with every word coming out of her mouth. “You will remain here tonight, you do not deserve to mingle with respectful wizards.”

She turned to her girls again. “We are leaving.” They quickly went downstairs. You heard the pop of their disapparition and nothing.

Only the silence, you and your destroyed dress – you mother’s dress, the one she was so much fond of. Tears blurred your vision, soon your legs gave out and you had to kneel down on the floor. This life you were living was not a life. What did you do to deserve this? You had been a good daughter, a good student, a good classmate…it was not fair! Huge sobs were now coming out of your mouth, tears were heavily rolling down your cheeks, dampening your underdress.

You did not know how long you stayed there until something wet touched your cheek. Something different than your tears…it was the snout of a dog – a golden retriever to be exact.

“Oh!” You squeaked before scratching its head. “What are you doing here? How did you come in?”

The dog let you pet him…or her, after a verification. It made you feel better in some way. For once since a long time, somebody was nice with you. Tears leaked out from the corner of your eyes. The dog whined and licked your nose, making you giggle. She wagged her tail and took a few steps back, as if to leave. Instead, she sat down and what was a dog suddenly became a middle-aged woman in front of your eyes. A woman you knew well.

“Alba!” You gasped. “How did you…I did not know…”

She slowly made her way towards you and embraced you fiercely. “I am an undeclared Animagus.” She explained. “Merlin, it feels so good to see you.” She hugged you tighter and abruptly released you. “How thin you have become! What have this one woman done to you!”

“You know?”

She gave a sad nod. “I’ve been watching you for some time but I can’t do anything. She is a powerful woman who knows how to pull the right strings.”

True. She could destroy Alba in a nutshell. From what you could remember, the lovely woman was a widow trying to raise her three children with the salary of a healer.

“We don’t have much time.”

“Much time for what?” You asked, frowning.

“You wanted to go to the ball, right?” She smiled. “I can help you but I am on my night shift so we need to be quick.”

“But…how?”

“Magic, of course!” She looked at you up and down. “I could easily fix that and your dress would be back in a second.”

“No…she will know. I can’t go with this dress and I’ll have to wear another mask as well.”

“You are right. I hadn’t thought about that…well, never mind that. I could make you a different dress.”

And she did. Two flicks of her wand and you were wearing a luxurious dark blue dress with matching mask and shoes. You had no time to appreciate her work, she took your hand quickly. “Let’s go, Y/N! Hold on tight!”

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

Draco was gritting his teeth. He did not want to be here but his mother had insisted. She desperately wanted him to find a suitable wife after the Grengrasses had turned them down. In spite of what his mother was saying, the Malfoy family did not seem to have any power left. It had become a disgrace for everyone now, on both sides. Draco was left with the desperate ones…just like those two ugly French girls with the most annoying voices. Plus, their mother was even worse. There was no way he would find a suitable wife here.

“Draco, no woman will come near you if you keep glaring at them this way.”

“Mother…” He sighed exaggeratedly. “This is useless. They are not interesting, or interested.”

“It’s because you need to pay more attention.” She squeezed his shoulder and left him with his dark thoughts to go and socialize, or at least try to. Paying more attention….to who? To what?

“Remember…two hours.”

“Yes.”

Draco’s head turned in the direction of the voice. Maybe he should pay attention to the lovely girl in blue. This one did not look like a monster, or an idiot.

Alba disappeared in a pop. Someone cleared his throat and caught your attention. You looked up at him and your eyes widened.

“Draco Malfoy.” He extended a hand that you took: warm, firm, definitely not what you would have assumed.

“And you are…?”

“My name won’t tell you anything.” You retrieved your hand.

“Your face does though…and I never forget a face. Have we met before? Maybe you went to Hogwarts?”

You tensed a little. How much could you tell him without revealing your true identity? “I did go to Hogwarts, I was even in your year but I doubt you noticed me.”

Draco watched you through squinted eyes. “You’re right… I don’t remember you from Hogwarts, but you really seem familiar.” He shook his head. “Care to share a dance or two?”

You hesitated for a second or two but ended up nodding. Some dances could not hurt.

Draco gently took you to the dance floor. The moment you started dancing, you were in sync. Once dance turned into two, three, four…You were finally feeling free and relaxed – and wished it would not stop.

“Do you want to take some fresh air?” A breathless Draco asked you.

“It would be a good idea.” You followed him as he led you through the crowded room. Walking, you could feel a strange sensation on your back. When you looked up, you realized your stepmother was glaring at you. The urge to run and hide was deeply strong but you remembered you could not show any sign it was you. She seemed to be mad some other girl was attracting one of the bachelors at the party. You avoided her stare and held on Draco’s hand tighter until you reached the garden.

The fresh air cooled down your face and you took the time to enjoy this simple and natural feeling until Draco tugged on your arm in order to invite you to sit down next to him. Your cheeks flushed under his stare and you looked down at your feet.

“You still don’t want to tell me your name?”

“My name won’t give you anything…I’m no one.”

He raised your chin gently with two of his fingers. “What should I call you when we see each other again?”

You smiled at that. “Because we will see each other again?”

“I’m certain we will”. Draco answered confidently. “So, you said you went to Hogwarts. Let me guess…Ravenclaw?” He assumed, looking at your dress.

“Yes, a very wise Ravenclaw. Th best student in her year.”

Draco rolled his eyes at your answer. “I was the best student in my year…well, after Granger.”

You noticed he said “Granger”, not the “M” word. There was still hope for him. “I was the best Ravenclaw.” You answered softly. “I guess I was not better than you, which is why you don’t remember me.”

Draco tilted his head. “Your eyes though…if only I could…” He tried to touch your mask but you stopped with your hand.

“That’s not how it is supposed to work tonight. This is a masked ball because we are supposed to learn from each other. Why don’t we enjoy it while we can and we’ll see where it leads us?”

He intertwined his fingers with yours and leaned over your, letting his lips graze yours in the softest of kisses.

The clock struck, breaking the magic between the two of you. You gently pushed Draco away and stood up. “I have to go.”

Draco stood up as well. “What? The party has just started, you can’t leave.”

“I have no choice, I’m sorry.”

He tried to stop you but you avoided his hands and ran inside. You managed to lose him in the crowd and found your way back to the center of the ballroom. Alba was already waiting in a corner and the two of you dis      apparated as you saw Draco looking for you everywhere.

Alba and you apparated in your ancient mother’s room where the rags of you dress were still on the floor. You looked at them but a smile pulled at your lips. “Thank you for tonight, Alba.”

“If only I could do more…”

You smiled again, a little bit sad this time. “I think you’ve done more than enough.”

You persuaded her to undo her magic. Everything should go back the way it was. The only thing you kept was the mask that you hid with the painting you had found earlier. Alba promised she would come back and find some way to help. You knew the poor woman would not do much but that was enough to comfort you in a way. For once, you did not feel alone, it almost gave you strength and hope.

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

A few days after the ball, things were highly tense in your household. Everyone was talking about the famous girl and the fact that Draco Malfoy was eagerly looking for her. He was even visiting everyone to get some information about her.

Madame de Lecharlesse was not happy about it but Odette and Francette were excited at the thought of him visiting them. For your part, you could not help feeling stressed. If he recognized you and rejected you once he would have discovered your true identity, your stepmother would make your life a living Hell, even more than now – if such a thing was possible. On the other hand, your heart secretly hoped he would not be bothered by your blood status. During the ball, he seemed to have changed a bit. He was not the Draco Malfoy you used to hear about at Hogwarts. There was a slight chance…

Kneeling down on the floor, you pulled on one of the planks and extracted your ball mask from your little hiding place. This mask was the only reminder of the party, the only reminder of him, your only fond memory since the death of your mother.

“What is this?”

Gasping, you let the mask fall on the floor. You tried to pick it up but your stepmother snatched it away. She started at the object in her hands, then at you. Her eyes widened.

“You little…Petrificus Totalus!”

The curse hit you before you got a chance to escape. Your face hit the planks with a loud thud. Your stepmother came near you and turned your body with the help of her foot so that you were facing her.

She looked at you maliciously. “Did you think you could fool me, girl? You will never see him again and once he is out of this house, I will personally deal with you for disobeying again.”

She put the mask in her pocket and left, locking you in. You listened intently to her footsteps dying down. The only sound echoing in your ears was the heavy beating of your heart.

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

Draco came into the house with a deep frown on his face. He was standing in front of those ugly sisters again. It was definitely the wrong house, but they might give him some information. They looked like professional gossipers.

The house was huge and very nice, yet so cold at the time…just like Malfoy Manor. Something was off with this place.

“Please, sit down.” The mother told him with a fake polite smile. She was holding a tray with cups, a fuming teapot and some biscuits. No house-elf or servant in sight?

“I heard you were searching for a very special girl…maybe one of my daughters?”

Draco snickered. “No. I remember your girls, it was not them for sure. I mean, they were not wearing blue.” He added when he noticed the scowls he was receiving for his comments.

“Besides, she is British and went to Hogwarts. She even said she was a Ravenclaw.”

“We do not know many people here. I’m afraid we won’t be able to help you, Mister Malfoy. But if we get any piece of information, I can assure you we will tell you right away.”

That was his cue to leave. The mother seemed eager to get rid of him and he was too happy to take advantage of it because the way the two sisters were watching him were giving him the creeps.

He rose from the sofa and admired the house again. “How did you acquire this house?”

“It was my late husband’s. He lived here with his first wife before the war.”

Her tone triggered something in Draco’s guts. She was clearly hiding something.

“You were leaving, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes…” Something was wrong, he could tell but he was in a hurry to leave this creepy place so he shook his head and followed the mother. She walked him to the door that she almost slammed in his face. Weird. Really weird. He had many other places to visit though, so he made the decision to ignore his instinct and left.

On the other side of the door, Madame de Lecharlesse swiftly but calmly left the room to go upstairs. She found you in the attic, still rigid on the floor.

“Enervate!” Your body relaxed and you instantly crawled backwards in front of her fury.

“Did you think you could play me, girl? You were forbidden to go and you disobeyed again… Crucio!”

Pain. Pain everywhere, that is what you were feeling. Your body twisted under the torture and you let out pitiful screams. She had already used this spell on you when you had tried to rebel but the anger she was feeling right now was intensifying it. She truly meant to make you suffer.

“And to think you could fool the Malfoy heir as well. What? Did you believe he would fall in love and marry you? An impure like you? How could you think that you would stand a chance? You are worse than filth! You had no right…”

“I had every right! Every single woman had the right to go.”

A deep and raw anger possessed you. You were tired of being treated this way, you did absolutely nothing to deserve that! You would not cower before her this time, even if it was the last thing you would do.

Another painful curse hit you, worse than before.

“Every witch had the right to go. You are no witch!”

“I…am…a witch.” Pain had made you breathless, burning your body all over. “I am…a better witch than you, better than your…despicable daughters. You do not deserve…ARGH!”

A blood curling scream erupted from your lips. The pain was becoming more and more excruciating. But you would fight, no matter what.

“How dare you!” She gripped your hair and tilted your head backwards so that you would look her in the eye. “After everything I’ve done for you. I could have let you die in the dirt but I kept you, I offered you a shelter and food.”

“You stole everything away from me!” Tears of rage and pain were rolling down your face. “This is not your house. Nothing is yours here. You are the usurper.” You spat in her face.

“Mother?” Francette and Odette were standing at the door, watching their mother with pure fright for once.

“We were alerted by the screams.” Odette explained. “What is happening here?”

“This one…” She gripped your hair so hard you winced. “…is the mysterious girl Draco Malfoy met at the ball.”

“That’s impossible.” Odette screamed, offended. “There was no way she could have found an outfit so fast. Besides, she wouldn’t have looked that good.”

“And you know what is worse?” Your stepmother replied as if she had not heard her daughter. “She dares insulting us.” She pulled on your hair again. “Well I am done with you, girl. I should have done what I wanted to do in the first place: getting rid of you.”

“I will never let you have my house.” You managed to scream through your state of pain. “I’ll kick you out…”

“You won’t be here anymore to do it.” She made you stand up by pulling your hair. “Girls, go to your room.”

“Mother, maybe we should just all calm down.” Francette softly intervened. She had always been the more responsible one and the one who did not make you suffer that much. “She has been punished enough now, there is no need…”

“I said, go to your room.” She answered sharply. They were so scared that they had no other choice but to obey. Francette gave you one apologizing look before following her sister.

Madame de Lecharlesse gave you a hateful stare. “Back to our business.” She pointed her wand at you. “Impero.”

The curse hit you on full force and made you feel as if you were floating.

“Walk now. Downstairs.” You were too weak to resist so you followed her orders and made your way downstairs.

“Open the door.” The light made you blink. “Come on, follow me.”

She walked ahead of you, leading you through the gates, then the forest and up a hill. Your insides clenched when you managed to understand through your foggy mind what she was about to make you do.

“Go up the hill.”

Your steps reluctantly carried you on the upper spot of the hill. A furious wind blew on your face.

“Very well…now, jump.”

Something on the back of your mind was telling you not to but it was not strong enough. You walked over the edge of the hill, ready to jump and face your fate when a strong arm sneaked around your waist and pulled your backwards.

The curse was suddenly lifted and you woke up from your daze to find yourself in the arms of Draco Malfoy. Your stepmother was on the floor, unconscious. You looked at Draco, utterly lost.

“Told you I could not forget a face…and your house seemed familiar.” He answered your silent question. “I remember now. There was a picture of you and your family in your house after your mother’s death in the Daily Prophet. I knew something was wrong the moment I came into your home but I couldn’t explain it. When everything came back to my mind, I came back. I spotted you and leaving and I silently followed. You’re Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.”

You silently nodded and started crying. Draco comforted you, rubbing your back as huge sobs were wracking your body. You were finally safe.

A few days later, your stepmother was locked up in Azkaban, waiting for her trial while her daughters had gone back to France.

You were slowly but surely getting acquainted with your home again. Alba was a great help as well as Draco who was currently hanging the famous portrait your mother had drawn on the wall of your living room, just above the fireplace. When he was done, he leaned back to admire his work.

“I have to admit your mother was talented. Muggle paintings are boring but they are quite pleasing to the eye.”

You smiled at his comment. Draco Malfoy complimenting something a muggle had made…who would have thought? Certainly not you, especially after everything you had heard about him at Hogwarts. The war seemed to have changed him a bit, regarding some aspects.

He did not care about your blood status or your family history. Narcissa did not either and she was constantly trying to bound with you, telling a lot of stories about her son… who was mostly embarrassed but would not dare saying anything to his mother.

You loved that. It was nice to share those family moments with them. Your heart deeply missed your parents but Draco and Narcissa were making you feel like a human being again.

You admired your wand on the coffee table. Tears came to your eyes as you remembered the moment you held it again. Never had a “lumos” felt so strong and powerful. You were a witch again, a woman with a future ahead of her thanks to your savior, your very own Prince Charming: Draco Malfoy.

Tagging (please tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia​ @gearhead66​ @tephi101​ @therealcalicali​ @mzliterarydreamer​ @captstefanbrandt​ @mblaqgi​ @peaceisadirtyword​

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (For You) Chapter 6

Chapter 6: I can’t breathe (until you’re resting here with me)

In this chapter: We get a peak at the night of the murder. In the present day, things kick into high gear and Alex faces a few of his own demons.

a/n: This is one of my absolute favourite chapters. I reread this so often after finishing it just because I love it so much. I hope you'll like it as much as me!

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

The title of last chapter was Linger by The Cranberries, guessed by hmd23! Congratulations!

Can anyone guess this week's title and performing artist?

Also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

20th of October, 1953, somewhere between 3am and 5am.

Alex eyes snapped open. His heart was beating faster than it should, and for a moment he didn’t understand why he’d woken up feeling startled. Then it came back to him.

He’d been sure he’d heard someone yell out. The sensation had permeated straight through his uneasy dreams and had startled him awake. He scrambled for his pocket watch. 4:31am. Why in the world would anyone yell out in the middle of the night?

Half-groggy, but on high alert, Alex stumbled out of bed, his bad leg protesting heavily to the sudden weight put on it. Limping heavily, he made his way to the door, opened it a crack and peaked out. The corridor was dark and empty, the long-since extinguished lamps swaying lightly with the train’s movements. The certainty that he’d heard someone in distress fading with every passing second, Alex looked up and down the carriage. He looked down the long end, just in time to see a small figure slip into cabin number 4.

Perhaps that was all he heard; someone visiting the bathroom.

Deciding that his traumatized brain made a case from something that wasn’t anything, Alex closed the door, crawled back in bed and soon went back to sleep.

Present day, 21st of October, 1935

“Alex! Come in!” Maria DeLuca had opened the cabin door at his knock and her worried frown quickly changed to a lovely smile as she realized who was at the door. “My mother is resting; it’s been a very tiring day.”

Alex stepped inside the cabin, and indeed saw Mrs DeLuca asleep in her bed. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Ms DeLuca,” Alex said in a soft voice, as he took a seat next to the window. Maria took the seat next to him. “But I have some questions that I need answered.”

“Of course,” Maria said with a kind smile, “ask away.”

“Do you and your mother have identification on you?”

“Naturally.” Maria rummaged underneath her mother’s bed for a while, and produced two sets of identification papers, which he handed to Alex.

Alex copied all of it down in his notebook. “Maria DeLuca, 22 years of age, resident of New Orleans. Occupation…singer?”

“Quite famous, too! I’ve even got a record deal coming up! People line up for blocks to hear me sing every Mardi Gras.”

Alex nodded, slightly impressed. He resolved to look up some of her music upon returning to America. “Your mother’s name…Margaret DeLuca, resident of New Orleans, retired.” Maria nodded as she took the papers from him.

“I’ve seen her looking varying degrees of ill. Is there something wrong with her?”

Maria’s smile vanished abruptly. “We…we don’t know. She’s starting to lose bits of memories. Some days she’s as sharp as she used to be, then the next she’s convinced Rosa Ortecho is standing next to her, having entire conversations with her.”

“Your mother knew Rosa Ortecho?”

Maria nodded, tears filling her eyes. “The poor girl. My mom was the Ortecho’s house maid until a few weeks before the kidnap. My dad had gotten very sick and we had to move closer to a hospital that could help him, you see. When my mother read of the case, weeks after her body had already been discovered, something broke in her. She was still my loving mom, and she took good care of me even after my father died, but there was always a kind of sadness surrounding her.”

Motive, Alex wrote down, but in his mind, he doubted it. Mimi DeLuca was barely strong enough to lift a hand of cards, let alone plunge a knife into a man’s chest. Still, it was pertinent information. “How is it that you came to be on this exact train, the same train that the murderer was on?”

Maria looked desperately upset. “I don’t know! I’ve been trying to figure it out myself. The only logical answer is some cruel twist of fate!”

“And you don’t think you or your mother…?”

Maria’s dark eyes suddenly flashed angrily, and Alex saw, for the first time, that he was better off not underestimating this woman. “Are you suggesting I or my mother had anything to do with this horrid business? Because my mother is sick enough as it is, and planning a murder is certainly not on the top of our priority list!”

“Of course. I’m sorry I asked.” Maria kept her eyes narrowed at him for a while, and Alex felt another possibility for friendship slip away from him. But he wasn’t here to make friends, he reminded himself. He had to solve a murder. Whatever it took. “Where were you around 3AM, miss DeLuca?”

“Asleep. My mother woke at around 4 to request a glass of water from the conductor. I woke up briefly because of the scuffle, then fell asleep again. We did not hear about the murder until we arrived at the scene after everyone was already awake. I did not commit this murder, Mr Manes,” Maria said fiercely, “and neither did my mother. Frankly, I’m insulted you find us capable.”

Alex rose to his feet, having gathered all he needed right now and cast Maria a sad look. “Ma’am, in my line of business, I’ve learned that everyone is capable with enough motivation.”

With that, he left.

En route back to his own cabin, with every intention of having a lie down for a while, to really mull this case over, he ran straight into Michael. “Hey, you okay?” Michael asked once more, looking concerned this time.

I swear, Alex thought privately, this man is going to give me a whiplash. “This case is giving me a headache,” he said, instead.

“Can I help?”

“That’s very kind of you, Michael, but I – ” He was cut off by a sudden loud squealing sound, a violent lurch as the train suddenly braked hard and another crash as it came to a sudden stop. Alex, already very unsteady on his feet, fell right into Michael when the train started to brake, and the force of the crash caused them both to tumble to the floor. The noise was deafening, and instinctively, Alex buried his face in Michael’s chest and covered his ears. It was excruciating to listen to the screaming of the breaks, the thudding of luggage falling over all up and down the train and then the frightened yells and screams of the passengers.

And suddenly he was on the battlefield again. The air smelled of gunpowder, blood and death and everywhere around him, his brothers were dying. Alex was barely 20 years old and not in any way, shape or form prepared for the violence that was an actual war. Clinging tightly to his weapon, he waited till he heard the enemy’s fire subside, then emerged out of the trench and fired at his faceless foe. The more people died around him, the more he realized how futile it was. How many men had laid down their lives for the simple fact that the US government wanted control over Nicaraguan waters? But it was too late to turn back now. If he stopped shooting, he would die. And he did not want to die. He came up from the trench once more but had miscalculated. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his knee in tatters and every nerve aflame. Michael’s face floated in front of him as he screamed in agony. “Alex,” he said softly. Alex smiled and reached out. “Alex. Alex!”

“Alex!” he heard Michael yell, and he felt two warm hands grab his face and pull him up. Alex gasped for breath as if he had been drowning and the reality of today came back to him in an instant. He wasn’t at war. He was on the Orient Express, which had apparently just crashed, and he was in Michael’s arms once more. Though nothing romantic was about to happen, for Michael was looking at him in alarm, scanning his face for injuries. Alex automatically did the same. Other than being severely startled, having had a pretty serious flashback, and having developed an even worse twinge in his leg, Alex didn’t think he was injured. Michael looked shaken, but otherwise unhurt as well. “You okay, love?” Michael asked softly, running his thumbs down Alex’s cheeks. Alex nodded.

“What the hell was that?” he said, his voice extremely shaky.

“I think we crashed. Come on, let’s get you up.” Michael helped Alex to his feet slowly, and when Alex put weight on his leg, it hurt less than he had expected. Thank goodness.

People were coming out of their cabins, looking ruffled and wide-eyed and some of them spotting some minor bruises or a split lip. Everyone seemed unharmed otherwise.

Michael looked at Alex again. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex murmured, who still felt pretty shaken up, “I just…had a flashback.”

Michael’s eyes flashed with understanding, and without hesitation, he dropped the tiniest of kisses on Alex forehead. Just a brush of the lips, but Alex felt it and a warmth surged through him. “After this is over, we’re going to have to catch up,” Michael said with a half-smile. Alex nodded in agreement, not voicing his very real fear of having to put Michael in jail.

Jesse Manes came bursting in through the door, looking quite the worse for wear, his mouth bleeding profusely. It looked as if he had slammed his face into something as the train crashed. “Is everyone alright?” he asked to the crowd in general, and, not waiting for an answer, he continued, “I need Dr Vale!”

Kyle came hurrying forward with his med kit, looking harassed. Behind him, Ms Beth’s arm was in a bandage. Raising an eyebrow at Director Manes’ less than impressive visage, he opened his case and rummaged in it. “Hurry up, won’t you?” Director Manes snapped, obviously forgetting he was not in the army anymore.

“Dad!” Alex said loudly, as Kyle stopped what he was doing and looked up slowly.

“Excuse me?” Kyle said softly.

Jesse Manes stilled, only now realizing his mistake. “Oh, I am so terribly – ”

“Mr Manes, you might be the Compagnie director, but these people are your passengers, who have paid for your services and your hospitality. Now I understand this day has been stressful, but I will not permit anyone to speak to me in that tone. If I hear you speak to me or any of the people on this train in that way again, I can guarantee you will never find work this side of the pond again. Do I make myself clear?”

Alex’s mouth dropped open, and he felt Michael’s shoulders shaking with barely controlled laughter even as he was still supporting Alex. There was a very tense silence, in which Alex watched his father go through several emotions including ‘murderous’ before landing on forced remorse. “Of course, Dr Vale. I forgot myself, my apologies. It’s been stressful, as you said. If you would be so kind, would you mind helping me stem the bleeding?” He was still bleeding rather profusely, and with the public dressing down he’d just received, he made a very pathetic sight indeed.

“That was the best thing I have ever seen in my entire life,” said Alex in a low voice and Michael snorted.

“Karma is a bitch,” Michael muttered, causing Alex to cough out a laugh. He looked at Michael, those piercing brown eyes filled with mirth, and felt his heart skip a beat. The man was still holding him upright, even though Alex was sure his leg was able to support his weight.

Just like 10 years ago, Michael was there to catch him if he fell. It had taken them a shockingly small amount of time to fall back in sync with each other. Alex opened his mouth, unsure what he was going to say but wanting to talk, to touch, to really reconnect with Michael…but suddenly the outer door burst open and Beth screamed. Cold air blasted into the train, snowflakes bursting in from the cold and a large shadow exited the train into the snowy wild.

Without thinking, Alex took off.

“Alex, no!” he heard Michael yell from behind him, but Alex scarcely heard him. He was only vaguely aware of his leg protesting to this sudden sprint so soon after having taken the brunt of a very violent fall, but Alex had only one thought. Someone was running. The murderer was trying to escape.

It was freezing cold outside. Alex spared a glance to the front of the train, and his heart sank. They’d been about to pass through the Simplon Pass, but an avalanche had blocked the entrance; the Orient Express had rammed straight into the thickly packed snow.

They were stuck.

Alex’s gaze snapped around to the back of the train, where the escapee was still running. They were clothed in a big coat, making it hard to make out who this was. Alex tore after them, just as Michael jumped out to keep everyone else in. “Alex, be careful!” he yelled.

Alex called upon all the speed he’d built up in the army and sped up. No matter why this person was running, Alex couldn’t let them get away. “Stop!” he yelled, but it was useless. The wind was whistling around them both, and he only barely heard himself.

His knee protesting violently, Alex gave it everything he had and saw the distance between him and the escapee closing. The snowy landscape was hard to traverse, and they could barely see five feet in front of them, but Alex noticed the distinct change in landscape a few feet to the right; a ravine. And the other person was drawing very close to edge, Alex could already see snow beginning to crumble underneath their feet. “Careful!” he yelled. The other heard him, looked around, and lost their footing. “NO!” Without hesitation, Alex leaped for the person and pushed him away from the edge. The man – for Alex’d seen the glimpse of a beard – fell backwards, safely away from the edge, but Alex was less lucky. The snow was slipping underneath him, carrying him ever so slowly towards the edge. Oh, for the love of… He felt one foot already passing over the edge, and panic leapt into his throat. I don’t want to die, Alex thought frantically, as Michael’s face flashed before him, and he tried to scramble back up the slight slope.

“Mr Manes!” he heard, and the man jumped forward, trying to catch his hand. Their fingers touched, slipped and Alex began to slide in earnest.

“NO!” Alex was surprised that the yell hadn’t come from his own throat, but behind the man appeared Michael, like a god damn angel send from heaven. “Alex!” Michael lunged and grabbed Alex’s hand, just as Alex tipped over the edge. They both yelled in fear, but Alex felt a yank on his arm. Michael had gotten hold of him and had stayed his death a little longer. Not that it helped. Alex felt himself slowly falling again, and he saw the snow underneath Michael shifting again. Michael was slipping as well.

I’m gonna die, Alex realized. And he was taking Michael with him.

“Let go, Michael!” he yelled in a panic.

“No!” Michael looked panicked himself, but his grip remained firm as he tried to find footing. “And don’t you dare let go, Alexander Manes!” Then he directed himself to the guy behind him. “Grab my god damn legs!” he bellowed.

Alex couldn’t see what was happening. He stared up in Michael’s eyes, sure that if he was going to die, those were the last thing he ever wanted to see. “Michael,” he said softly, as he felt no change in his slow descent, “Michael, please.”

“NO!” Michael yelled, his voice cracking. “I’m not letting you go again, Alex! I don’t look away!”

“Michael, please!” Alex said, tears threatening in the corner of his eyes. “Please, don’t do this!”

Michael’s eyes were blazing with fury. “If you go, I’m going with you!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic, you two!” a third voice added, and Isobel Bracken-Evans’s face appeared over the edge. “We got you, we’re pulling you up!”

And miraculously, even as Alex hardly dared to believe it, they suddenly began to rise, Michael disappearing back over the edge, but never letting go of Alex’s hand. Alex’s free hand grabbed the edge when he could reach it and two pairs of hands appeared to grab hold of his arm.

Isobel and Kyle were there, pulling him up, while Mr Otto was pulling on Michael’s legs.

His heart pounding, Alex was pulled back on solid ground, away from the edge. When finally, finally, they were safely away, he collapsed, gasping with adrenaline, against Michael, who caught him and wrapped his arms tightly around him. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” Michael muttered against Alex’s temple.

Alex could only clutch to Michael’s jacket tightly, pressing his face in his chest as he tried to stave of the beginnings of a panic attack. All the horrible things that could’ve happened were flashing before his eyes. His own bloody, mangled body two hundred feet below on the snowy plains. Michael’s broken, lifeless body next to him.

“Michael, are you okay?” Alex barely registered Isobel’s soft voice as he inhaled Michael’s scent in an attempt to calm himself.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Other footsteps. Several shocked voices as they took in the scene before them. Alex aware that he and Michael were being far too affectionate around a far too unfamiliar crowd. But he didn’t have the strength to push away and stand up. He’d been at death’s doorstep. And he would’ve never gotten a chance to tell Michael all he wanted to – to make up, to apologize. Ten years, wasted, because they’d been so scared and cowardly.

“Michael.”

“I got you, private,” Michael whispers softly, his hands stroking Alex’s back. “You’re safe, you’re alive, I got you.”

“You really wouldn’t have let me go?” Alex finally gasped out, looking up at him. The world was slowly coming back into focus, and Michael was at its centre.

Michael smiled and the last bit of panic faded from Alex’s system. “I never look away, Alex. I told you before. I just found you again. I’ll never let you go again. And if that means following you over the edge of a damn cliff, so be it.”

“Jesus, Michael.”

“What the hell happened?!” Another voice joined the murmurs and Alex and Michael both looked up, the spell between them broken. The world was freezing again and he was alive and there was still a murderer in their midst and his father just appeared, looking disgustedly down at Alex and Michael. Alex could only imagine that he looked like his father’s worst nightmare; broken, teary-eyed, in the arms of another man. If only Alex could bring himself to give a fuck.

“Alex almost went over the edge,” Isobel said, stepping in front of Michael and Alex with her hands on her hips. “Michael saved him. They’re catching their breath.”

Jesse Manes blinked in surprise. “Did they at least catch the person who ran?”

The silence became rather frosty, a very impressive feat seeing as it was snowing. “Yes,” another voice said, “they did.” Everyone turned around. Arthur Otto stood next to his daughter, who was holding his arm and looking extremely stern. “Why did you run, papi?”

Jesse Manes didn’t wait for an answer. “Only a guilty man runs! I always knew to never trust your kind and I was right! I’m going to make sure you never see the sun again, you murderous spic!”

Alex was on his feet at once. The exhaustion, the pain in his knee, all but forgotten. “Shut up!” he yelled. Jesse became very still, a stance Alex still recognized as a first sign of trouble. “You are not in charge of this investigation, Mr Manes! I am, and you will not threaten anyone on this train while I am in charge, or you will be very sorry indeed!”

“How dare you speak to me in that tone?!” screamed Jesse Manes, getting into Alex’s face, any sense of where he was and who was surrounding him forgotten. Alex didn’t back down. “I am still your father, you ungrateful, arrogant piece of shit, and I will have respect!”

“Respect is earned, and you have done nothing in my entire life to earn it!” Alex yelled back.

“You have never done anything to warrant giving you respect!”

Dr Kyle stepped forward, looking extremely angry. “Your son is a decorated war hero!”

Jesse Manes didn’t even seem to hear him, he just raged on, with the air of a man who was finally letting out what he’d been holding back for years. “You didn’t even have the decency to be normal, you had to be a fucking faggot to boot! You are disappointing, disgusting, despicable – ”

It happened in a flash. Alex was pulling back his fist to plant it firmly in the face of the man who called himself his father, but Michael had beat him to the punch – literally. Alex hadn’t realized how strong Michael had become in the ten years since he last saw them, but Jesse Manes went down with a single blow. Alex was convinced he saw a tooth flying. “You can no longer speak to Alex that way, not as long as I have anything to say about it!”

Jesse Manes looked shocked at this turn of events. He was cradling his jaw and Alex was looking forward to seeing a bruise form there in the next few days. He looked up at Michael, his eyes flashing with the same hate he always reserved for Alex. “My, my, you’ve finally learned to throw a punch. Lucky for you I didn’t get your good hand last time, huh?” His eyes flicked down to Michael’s left hand and Alex saw it spasm violently.

“You’re a fucking child,” Michael spat, his voice dripping with disgust and hatred. “You think respect and control come from violence. Yet these people, the people Alex is investigating for murder, respect him more than they do you. You are nothing. You have always been nothing. The only difference was that you were stronger than either one of us. That has changed. Touch either one of us again, and you will be very sorry indeed.” He stepped forward, his fist raised, and Jesse Manes flinched violently.

“Michael!” Max Evans stepped forward, looking stricken. “Enough, man. He’s got the point, I think.”

To Alex’s surprise, Michael dropped his fist, his fingers unclenching, a sharp breath exploding from him. Then he turned to Alex. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, then immediately felt his knee give out. “On second thought, not so much.” He buckled and Michael caught him effortlessly. “Alright, now that that’s dealt with,” Alex said, casting a disdainful look at his father, still bleeding on the ground. “Mr Otto, I would like an explanation, if you please.”

Mr Otto looked extremely white from all the excitements, and his daughter nudged him hard in the ribs to get his attention. “Oh! Ah. Yes. Of course.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, when the train crashed, I knew it was my only chance to get away…”

“Aha! See, escaping the scene of the crime…!” Jesse Manes began.

“I swear to God, one more word out of you…” Michael snapped, who did not finish his sentence, but Director Manes got the point. He lapsed into grudging silence.

“Yes, to get away. But not to flee the scene of this crime.” He looked at Alex intently. “I did not murder that man, Mr Manes. But I overheard your father talking to one of the other staff one day…said he could only suspect me, as I am the only person who could’ve done it; the DeLuca women and Beth being too weak, and Dr Kyle having taken an oath. I ran because I knew if it was up to Jesse Manes, I would be convicted on the word of a racist white man. And I’d rather live out here in the middle of nowhere than go to prison as a Latino man.”

Alex sent his father an absolutely hateful look, but his father seemed unremorseful in his racism. Alex could murder him. “Alright, everybody inside, to the dining carriage. It’s getting too cold out here. Dr Kyle, if you would escort Mr Otto.”

Everyone started towards the train, leaving Manes in the snow. Michael supported Alex all the way, and Alex was glad off it. His leg was aching worse than ever, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to put his weight on it for a day or so. Michael carried him singlehandedly up the stairs and into the carriage, and they laughed about it for a moment, before continuing to the dining carriage, where it was, mercifully, warmer.

Beth was standing next to her father, her arms crossed, looking extremely cross with her father. “Alex!” she said, when she saw him, waving him over. He and Michael made their way to their table. “I want to apologize for my dad. He shouldn’t have run. He panicked, thinking Jesse Manes had maybe called in the cavalry to arrest him.” Next to her, her father nodded.

Alex sighed. “Look, I get it. My father is…yeah. But I have to consider all the facts…”

“Mr Manes, I swear my father couldn’t have done it. I was with him all night – ”

“Beth – ” Max Evans tried to step in, but Beth continued, without missing a beat.

“– after I came back from Max Evans’ – ” Alex registered Max relaxing slightly, “ – I was reading some medical journals for most of the night and checked on my father periodically because he has heart issues, and my father was asleep until we were awoken by Isobel, I swear!”

Alex glanced from her to Max for a second and saw their eyes jump to each other for a fraction of a second. Something was going on between the two of them, but Alex couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Beth’s story only barely held up under the lightest scrutiny. But even if she wasn’t telling the truth about seeing her father, at least her and Max’ story seemed to match up. And that covered her for the murder. His head was aching. He pinched the bridge of his nose and lights swam behind his eyelids. That couldn’t be good.

“Alex?” he heard Michael whisper.

“Mm,” Alex merely muttered. “Alright. Well, it seems that we are stuck here for a while. Nobody leaves this train without my supervision, is that clear?” Everybody nodded mutely. “Michael, can I have your master keys?”

“What, why?” Michael asked, looking startled.

“Because I’m the only one not a suspect in this case so I need those keys somewhere I can keep an eye on them, please, Michael.” He didn’t mean to sound desperate, but his vision was getting blurry, his head throbbing more and more by the second. He had to lie down, and soon.

“Alright,” Michael acquiesced, looking startled and handing over the keys. Alex limped towards the outer door, locked it, and put the keys in his pocket.

“Go to your cabins, everyone. I need to rest, and we’re not going anywhere for a while.”

People moved past him, murmuring and shooting him concerned glances. Michael stayed close to Alex, looking concerned. “Michael, can I speak to you for a moment?” Alex managed to say through gritted teeth. Without waiting for an answer, he limped towards his cabin and entered it, Michael following close behind.

“What is it – ?” Michael began, but it became very clear what. Alex nearly collapsed and it was all Michael could do but to catch him. “Wow! Alright, I got you, private, I got you.”

“Can you help me?” Alex asked, his voice weak and trembling. “I don’t – I don’t think I can – u-undress mys-self.”

“Of course, Alex. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

He helped Alex to his bed, set him down and started undoing the laces to his shoes. Alex slumped against the back wall, his eyes closed. Michael’s hands were gentle as he helped Alex out of his shoes, his socks, his pants and shirt. At any other time, the atmosphere between them would be charged, but Alex was near in a coma and Michael understood exactly what Alex needed. He helped him into his pyjamas. His soft touches lulled Alex into something resembling sleep and he felt warm and safe for the first time in a while.

“Alex,” he whispered, and Alex forced his eyes to open a fraction. “Lay down, love.”

With gentle pressure from Michael, Alex managed to swing his legs onto his bed and rest his head on his pillow. A very ungentlemanly groan passed his lips as his entire body began to ache into the mattress. Suddenly, Michael’s hands were on his bad leg, rubbing it softly, warming the aching muscles in his calf and knee. Alex hummed appreciatively and closed his eyes again. He slowly felt his body relaxing into Michael’s touches. His body was exhausted, the adrenaline from nearly dying finally wearing off and he was sure he was asleep. That is, until he felt Michael’s hands leave his leg and his lips against his forehead. “Sleep tight, Alex.”

Alex’s hand shot out, grabbing Michael’s arm as he made to leave. “Please don’t leave,” he muttered. His eyes opened slightly, looking up at Michael through his eyelashes. Michael’s face was soft, and a small smile played around his lips.

“Alright, Alex.” Michael shed most of his uniform, leaving him only in his boxers. Then he climbed into bed, settling himself behind Alex and slinging an arm over him. Alex’s eyes closed again, and he burrowed himself against Michael’s chest. Michael’s arm tightened around him, pressing a kiss to the back of Alex’s head. “Go to sleep, Alex. I’m here.”

Alex dropped to sleep faster than he ever had before.

[rynne311]

The Grave Misunderstanding

Request: Hi can I request a fic where the reader like 16 years old was sent to Arkham due to a major misunderstanding, and she’s totally normal, and not insane and shouldn’t be there and the batfamily finds her and tries to figure out why she’s there and they get her out and takes her in? Thank you and I love your writing, you’re very talented!

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: 993

Requests are Open HERE.

AN: Anon, you sent this as I’m playing through both Arkham Asylum and Arkham Knight for the third time, and I just finished up my third go at Arkham City a few weeks ago, so I think I’m definitely in the right frame of mind for this one.

All you could do was sit there staring blankly at the front of your cell.  You hadn’t said a word since you were brought to Arkham, and you didn’t plan on speaking at all until your freedom was restored.  Arkham had always loomed over you and the other kids in your neighborhood who had to raise yourselves because you were all nobodies and if you got picked up, it was almost guaranteed to be a one-way ticket into the Asylum.

Ward of the state, unidentified. Your file was small.  You refused to give them what they wanted, a reason to keep you locked up.  You had spent the day at the library, one of the few places you felt safe and on your way home you when you were grabbed by police.  You’d heard reports there was someone going through some sort of psychotic break, and based on what you heard from the back of the squad car, that person bore a striking resemblance to you.

The sidelong glances you’d get from guards and other patients alike told you they feared you.  It didn’t matter that you sat quietly, refusing to argue, whatever doppelgänger you had must have been some force to be reckoned with.  You knew if you argued for your freedom, you were only opening yourself up to be manipulated into believing the awful things they would tell you ‘you’ did.  

Besides, no one ever paid any mind to what a street kid had to say.  That’s why you had been at the library in the first place.  With no family around, the logistics didn’t line up to enroll you in school like those kids from the nuclear families around the city, so you intended to teach yourself.  You’d spend all day in the library, devouring topic after topic, hoping that would be enough to put you on the right path in life.  At least that was the plan before you ended up in a small, dank room in Arkham.

There was something going on in the corridor, and as much as you wanted to run and see, you kept your position staring at the front of your cell.  The screams grew with ferocity, paired with the grunts of guards attempting to subdue the recent addition to your ward.

“What’s the diagnosis here?” Batman asked the guard as he stood in front of your cell.

“We know nothing beyond no family,” the guard answered. “Kid won’t talk.”

Batman lingered at the front of your cell, trying to get his own read on you.  He must’ve seen something in the way you held yourself you realized as you watched his eyes narrow on you.  You had nothing to fear from him, you were already stuck in the end destination for most of his foes.  You didn’t know what to make of his stare down as he walked away, and you couldn’t be happier that it was lights out as soon as he left the corridor.

You woke up to two guards, the warden, and the Asylum’s social worker standing over you.  The guard who’d roughed you up a few times since you first arrived stood there with a guilty look on his face while the other guard you didn’t recognize looked at you with a look of disdain painted on your face.

“As you may have heard,” the social worker began. “We received a new patient last night from the Batman.  During our onboarding of our newest ward, we found that you have been detained here in error and the correct patient has now been detained.  It is the position of the warden that despite your status as a minor without a legal guardian, you should be released from this facility immediately.”

“You will also need to sign this,” the warden interjected as he pushed a waiver of liability in your face.  Of course he would only be concerned with making sure you wouldn’t be able to sue him.  That was probably why he wanted you out as soon as possible.

“Yes, I was getting to that,” the social worker chided.  He might have been the only person in this whole place who had been looking out for you, and now even his hand was being forced.  “We have ascertained your identity, Y/N. And I have been able to place you in a home with our single largest benefactor, Bruce Wayne.  He will be here within the hour to pick you up.”

You were given some new clothes for your release, leaving the tattered rags you came to Arkham in behind you.  You walked outside of the main gate, feeling free and quite underdressed as you approached Bruce Wayne and his fancy sports car in your ill-fitting clothes.

“Thank you for taking me in,” you squeaked out as he helped you into the car.  You weren’t sure if he knew those were the first words you’d spoken in weeks.  The comforting smile he gave you told you he had some idea of that.

“Cases of mistaken identity can be quite trying,” he offered as he turned to you. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you never have to go through anything like that again.  You know, Batman’s message that was left at my manor about you seems to be right.  You’re a kind spirit who’s fallen on hard times early in life, but that doesn’t need to be all you ever know.”

You rode the rest of the way to Wayne Manor in silence, but Bruce spotted the relieved smile on your face knowing that the same hero you looked up to back on the streets to keep you safe was still able to do just that when you were locked up.  You could finally relax knowing you had a shot at being a regular kid for the first time in your life.  You didn’t have to live your life as a victim of a grave misunderstanding.

Tags:

Everything: @societiesholyskittle @pickyblue12 @icycoldbeanieweanies @thoughtfullychaoticdreamer @bloatedandlonly

Bruce: @princessowly1234

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[brohood-assassins-imagines]

So We Endure - Chapter 3: Times of Change

A/N: Yet another chapter of heartache. I’m going through a bit of a writer’s block for it, so next post I make will probably be a Connor smut I’ve been cooking up for a while! As always, this fic has a playlist (made by me) here

Word Count: 4k+

“What do you mean I’m out?!,” you screeched, eyes watering as a painfully cold grip took hold of your heart.

Mr. Jackson — Jack, as he liked to be addressed to — sighed wearily, cleaning one of the various pints of beer behind the counter. “It is what I said,” he shrugged, not looking you in the eyes. “Your out.”

“Jack, you can’t do that!,” you pleaded, pointedly ignoring the looks some of the early in customers shot you.

“Already did,” the man put the pint down, picking up another one. “Don’t need myself a singer who’s gonna whore herself out to my customers and have them never come back,” he stared you down, expression bitter and anger barely contained. “Shoulda said so before, that your a whore. Woulda treated you likewise.”

You felt the world stop around you, a shiver of fear running down your spine. The squeezing of your heart tightened and you leaned in towards the man. “Jack, I have a son. I need this job, I have to keep him fed and—“

“And on your way to a new one, I see,” he spit the venom casually, not minding the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. “Shoulda thought ‘bout him before, eh?”

“Nothing happened, Jack! For fucks sake!”

“Yeah, right,” he cackled at his own inside joke. “Outta here with ya. Already hired a new girl, don’t need ya makin’ a scene now.” The man picked another glass up, polishing it without really watching he was doing, “and to think one day I hoped to get it on with ya…”

Humiliated and wrecked, both emotionally and physically, you hunched your shoulders and allowed yourself to cry quietly before being shunned out of the pub. As much as you hated the job, it was what had kept you and Charlie relatively warm at night; with a roof over your heads. You risked a look at one of the clocks on your way home — a quarter after 6 — and tried to think positively. The rent was paid. You had money for the next one, it was okay, if you tightened the belts. There was food at home, you’d get to spend some time with Charlie—

It all felt like a bad joke on you.

The door whined and creaked as Mrs. Dolloway opened it, letting a small gasp of surprise get past her thin lips. “Oh dear!,” she put a chubby hand against her cheek, “ya certainly dropped by early today! I wasn’t expecting ya around ‘til half past nine or so, girl.”

You forced a smile, fidgeting with the tattered cloth-bag in your hands. “Yes, I… got out early.”

Mrs. Dolloway frowned at you, closing the door a bit as she leaned closer to you so the kids wouldn’t eavesdrop. “What happened?”

Closing your eyes, you sighed and twisted your lips as if tasting bitter medicine. You never managed to lie or cover things from your neighbor — and possibly best friend —, as much as you wanted to. She didn’t need to worry more than she already did. “Dolls, really…”

“Dontcha ‘Dolls’ me, girl!,” she pouted, a slight rise of color coming to her complexion. “Come on, out with it. Ya can tell me things, ‘m not made of glass!”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “Jack fired me today.”

As expected, the woman gasped indignantly. “Whatever for?!”

“It doesn’t matter, really,” you cut in quickly, eager to change the subject. “I’m already looking for a new job.”

“This close to winter? Best thing ya gonna find will be laundry work, probably worse,” she stressed, brows knitting together in worry. “Want me to ask aroun’?”

It wasn’t entirely fair, you knew. You already felt like a parasite with all the help people offered so freely — the guilty pang of Mr. Fry—Jacob’skindness still all too recent in your mind. Drawing your lower lip into your mouth, you bit nervously on it. “If that isn’t a bother, Dolls—“

“Silly girl,” she stopped you before you could finish. “Silly, silly girl.” The plump woman closed the door behind her, pulling you into a tight motherly hug; her soft hands smoothing your shoulders lovingly. “Already taken care of, I tell ya. Stop worryin’, eh?,” she whispered as you awkwardly wrapped your arms around her.

“Thank you,” you offered meekly, allowing the tears to well in your eyes, “thank you so much, Dolls. I just—“

“Hush now,” she pulled away, patting your face gently. “Don’t ya dare go all soft on me now, we still have to talk, eh?,” she smiled. “I asked Tommy what happened that day n’ I think ya should talk to Charlie too.”

“I tried, at the park,” you confessed, leaning against the railing of the stairs, “but it didn’t feel right, at the moment. Didn’t want to make him get antsy on me while we’re out, you know?”

Mrs. Dolloway nodded sagely, but it didn’t seem to smooth her ruffled feathers. “When you can, then. Sooner than later, is my advice.”

You frowned. “What did Tommy tell him?”

“Charlie?,” you called softly, drying the boy’s hair with a towel. He answered by turning around and looking you in the eye. “Mummy loves you very much. You know that, right?,” and upon his nod, you took a breath in before continuing. “Remember last time I fetched you at Auntie Doll, you and Tommy had a fight?”

Your son’s face scrunched up and he cast his gaze down with a slight pout. “It wasn’t my fault,” he offered, although hesitantly.

“Mummy knows,” you said, sitting beside him at the bed, back resting against the wall as you appraised the boy. “I just want to make sure you’re not holding things back from me.”

Charlie’s lips twisted a bit, as he seemed to fight an internal monologue with himself. “I just…,” he fidgeted with the edges of the shirt you had finished fixing. “Tommy said our family is daft.”

“Daft?,” you prompted him on, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” the boy agreed, picking at his nails. “Because I don’t have a dad.”

You had been preparing yourself for this talk, but that didn’t stop the cold drop in the pit of your stomach. “And what do you think about that?”

Charlie frowned, looking at you as if he hadn’t fully grasped what you had asked. “Tommy asked me if I had a daddy…,” he started, although hesitantly, “I said no, because that’s what you told me,” Charlie cast his eyes down once more before talking again. “He said that’s dumb, that everyone has a daddy, but I said I didn’t n’ he told me our family is daft,” he started crying, shaking slightly, “’das why I hit ‘im. ‘M sorry, mummy.”

“Hey, now,” you called in, opening your arms for a hug, “our family is not daft. We love each other a lot, don’t we? Isn’t that what matters?”

The boy sniffled, moving closer as you allowed him to rest upon your chest. “But he’s right,” he mumbled quietly, “it’s true.”

You pressed your lips together, smoothing his hair and trying to hold back your own tears. “Don’t you like mummy, baby?”

“It’s not that,” he said, voice brittle with emotion, “I just…,” a quiet sob, “I wanted to have a daddy too.”

Silence grew heavy, broken only by the sniffling and sobbing from your son; and all you could do was hug him tighter.

Thursday morning came slowly, daylight barely making its way through the fraying edges of the ruined curtains. Days were growing colder with the approach of winter; you registered distantly and stretched, burying your face into the thin pillow as the tell-tale sounds of town started rumbling around you. Job hunting hadn’t been going the way you wanted — after walking around for 3 days straight, until your feet ached and chaffed in your boots, you came to the grim conclusion that Mrs. Dolloway had been right to some degree, because even the laundry houses and the few factories that offered jobs year-round were overstaffed.

At some point, you started doubting if there really had been such a sudden shortage of jobs around the slums or if people were simply avoiding you. Everyone loved to gossip around here, even if most tended to show you their kinder side; there were still the ones with venomous tongues and ill spirits, who’d pounce at the opportunity of pointing their fingers at you in a heartbeat.

You wondered if Mr. Jackson was to blame or if your poorly-thought-through display with Jacob earlier on Sunday to the bus stop had had anything to do with it.

Universe definitely wasn’t kind.

Charlie stirred against you, sleepy murmurs stopping as soon as you rubbed his shoulder. The boy was a blessing, truly, and you didn’t regret it; not him. He wasn’t to blame for anything. You closed your eyes again, opting for sleeping in for a bit more today. It wasn’t like you were to change anything and magically find a job today after leaving no rock unturned last few days. Sleep crept slowly, its pull gentle and sweet and—

A knock.

A knock?

Frowning, you sighed; halfway hoping it was your imagination or for another floor. You opened your eyes, resting a tired gaze upon the weathered wooden door. Someone — a male voice, you recognized — called your name through it, now knocking more insistently which made Charlie groan and turn to bury his face into the mattress.

“Heavens…,” you whispered, slipping out of bed, careful not to wake your slumbering son, to answer the door. It couldn’t be Mr. Ross, you had paid the rent on time yesterday and Mrs. Dolloway usually wasn’t up this early. “Who’s it?,” you inquired quietly, hugging yourself to retain the warmth from the bed.

“Jacob,” the voice answered, sounding far to anxious to belong to the same calm and confident man you who’s had tea with you in the kitchen last Sunday. It was early, you frowned, much too early than what proper education demanded to a breakfast visit, and it made you feel uneasy. What on earth did he want? Then he called your name again, “will you open up?”

Pressing your lips together and sighing resentfully, you unlocked the door and Jacob wasted no time at slipping in and closing it behind himself. “I— Jacob, I have never—“

“I know, etiquette be damned,” he spoke hastily, taking off roughened up cap that matched his outfit. No top hat today?, you thought to yourself. “But— I swear, as soon as I heard about it— Wha— How— Uh… you… you were fired?,” the words tumbled out of his mouth, tripping on each other as he cast a worried gaze at you; a wild look in his eyes that made you wonder distantly if he had slept at all.

“Jacob.”

“Are you okay?,” he continued, “do you want me to talk to Jack?,” the man asked now, pacing around the flat, trying to school his voice into something less anxious. “We can see to it, you’ll have your old job in the blink of an eye, I swear—“

“Jacob.”

He stopped, frowning and fixing you with a puzzled look. “What?”

“It’s fine,” you offered lightly, trying to force a smile into your lips. “I hated it there, either way. I’m a singer to some degree, it kept a roof over our heads for a while, and it’s okay.”

Jacob swallowed thickly, staring at you with a dumbfounded look. “You… Ah, you’re not mad?”

“Whyever for?,” your voice came out like a tired sigh. “It wasn’t your fault. If I am to blame anyone, I’d point fingers at myself for doing something so reckless and stupid—“

“You were desperate, there is a difference,” he quipped in, grimacing at the thought. “I’d have come sooner had you told me— why— why didn’t you tell me?”

You huffed out a laugh, crossing your arms in front of him. “Because I don’t know where you live, Jacob Frye. Much less how to contact you.”

Something seemed to click in his mind and Jacob scowled. “I’m sorry,” he offered, the high of his cheeks adopting an embarrassed shade of pink. “I feel like— I thought you’d have my head if I showed up here.”

Frowning as you moved closer to the kettle, you gave him a confused look. “Whatever for?”

“Because— well, because…,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “I just...,” Jacob coughed, looking away with a somewhat relieved face and his shoulders stopped tensing up. Well, that went off terribly. “I thought you would be mad at me for making you lose your job that day—“

“You didn’t,” you said casually.

“—and I wanted to make sure you and Charlie were okay, so I just came flying here as soon as I could.” As you put the water to boil, he shoot a look at you that pleaded for something, even though you weren’t entirely sure what. “Are you sure you don’t want me to explain the situation to Jack?”

You splashed some water into the teapot. “I don’t want to have anything to do with Jack any longer, Jacob,” your voice came out colder than you intended and you tried to soften it a bit. “We had our divergences and he wouldn’t take me for my word,” you explained, opening the cabinet and pulling the tea box. You weren’t going to lie, seeing the kitchen cabinet filled with food like that eased the anxiety in your heart. “Besides, he’s a bloody penny-pincher and a pig.” At that, Jacob laughed and you turned around to catch his mischievous smirk at you. “Believe me, I’m better off out of there.”

“’Suppose I’ll have to find a new pub to drink at, then,” Jacob started, putting his cap back on, “because that new girl can’t sing for shit, I’m telling you.”

It didn’t surprise you, honestly.

“It’s not difficult to please the drunkards,” you shrugged, “a pretty face is all they need at some point,” after your jesting, noticing what you had said, you clapped a hand over your mouth and turned to give him a horrified look. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s fine,” Jacob waved a hand dismissively, smirking as he walked closer to the stove and it occurred to you that he might be cold, without a thick coat on, “you can speak your mind around me,” he threw a few coals into the stove, proceeding to rub his hands together for warmth. “Besides, it was funny, and I believe I did tell you etiquette is not my best trait.”

You fidgeted with the kitchen rag in your hands, scoffing at his commentary. “Yes, I’ve been told.” As much as you hated to admit, you wanted to have someone’s company— needed it, really; someone who wouldn’t fuss and ask questions you didn’t want to answer, and last time had proven that Jacob wasn’t unpleasant at all to talk to. You shoot him a glance, trying to sound nonchalant. “Would you like to have breakfast with us? I was just about to start cooking.”

Jacob tensed, looking at you as if you had just told him to leave the flat, giving you a piercing gaze that deeply unsettled you; as if he could see through your lie. “That’d be lovely,” he blew into his hands, a smile already plastered upon his face, “thank you.”

Nodding, you turned around to cut up the cheese and bread — it was still so soft it made you wonder if Jacob bought it the same day it had been baked. Walking around, he got rid of his cap, putting it over the table, and asked “are you still looking for a new job?”

It was bound to happen, sooner or later. “Yes, although not with much luck, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?,” Jacob prompted, coming up next to you and pulling the same two mugs you had used to drink tea last time from the cabinet. It made you itch uncomfortably, for some reason.

“No one would hire me,” you explained, giving him an exasperated look that suggested you weren’t overly fond of the topic. “Not even the washhouses or the coal factory.”

Jacob hesitated for a second, looking mildly guilty. “I can help you, with anything you’d like.”

Just as he never ceased to surprise you, the annoyance seemed to come along in equal measures. You started to regret the invitation.

Turning around for a second, you offered him a disinterested “oh?”

The man shuffled awkwardly, giving you a pained look. “What I mean is… I can… help. More, is what I’m trying to say.”

Not knowing what to do with the silence, you allowed it to stretch a bit. “That’d be nice of you, but what I really am looking for is a job, Jacob.”

Jacob nodded, looking away with furrowed brows and as if he wanted to say something else; but ultimately stayed silent. You were somewhat thankful for it, but wouldn’t settle for having someone else paying your bills; you’ve been able to make things right up until now. The quiet that grew in the room evoked a heavy cloud of uneasiness and you wondered just when Charlie would wake up.

As if on careful coordination, a sleepy “mummy?,” called from the bedroom and you sighed in relief.

Offering Jacob a somewhat apologetic look, you hurried to the bedroom — which wasn’t really that far away, “hey, baby…,” you whispered, bending slightly in order to caress his head, “are you hungry? Mummy’s making breakfast now.”

Charlie yawned, turning to press his face into the mattress again and stretching out his arms for you to pick him up. “Are you going out today?,” he asked when you fixed him against your hip, resting his face against your collarbone.

“I don’t know yet,” you answered truthfully. “Let’s eat first, yes? We have a visit over today.”

“We do?”

You nodded, rubbing his back a bit. “Do you remember Jacob?”

The boy stayed silent for a moment, mind still hazy as he tried to recall where he had heard the name before. “Jake?,” he asked, looking at you with a confused look, “the magician?”

“Jake the magi—,“ you cut yourself, laughing softly, “yes, the magician.” Charlie’s eyes widened a bit, letting go of the heavy lidded look he was giving you. “Why don’t we go talk to him, mhm?”

He shifted a bit in your arms, as if embarrassed, until ultimately agreeing; although hesitantly. “’kay…”

Turning around to leave the bedroom, you caught sight of Jacob watching you with an expression you couldn’t exactly pinpoint; but it didn’t look bad on his face, you decided ultimately. The softness in his eyes made the hazel stand out against the olive skin and you wondered what he must’ve been thinking.

“Hey, sport!,” he called cheerfully, waving a hand at Charlie as the other took a hold of the backrest of a chair, “thought you’d sleep in forever.”

Charlie got flustered, resting his head against your chest in a gesture of comfort. “Hey,” he answered timidly, fiddling with the frilly neckline of your dress.

“Now,” Jacob started, approaching you both with a disarming smile, “I have a little something for you today,” the smile broadened when he saw that it had caught Charlie’s attention, “I wonder if you’re gonna like it.”

Your son looked at Jacob curiously, weighing his next words carefully. Charlie had never been very talkative strangers, but seemed to be growing out of it at times; with moments where he oscillated between both before ultimately making up his mind about the person. “What is it?,” he inquired, starting to develop a mild interest at the promise of a gift.

“Oh, I’m not really sure,” Jacob frowned, crossing his arms rather hilariously. “A little bird brought it to me and said it was your favorite.”

“Don’t be daft,” Charlie spoke in a half amused and surprised voice, “birds can’t talk.”

Jacob smiled at him, looking at you briefly. What Jacob lacked in etiquette and good sense, he made up with the way he got along with children — Charlie, in particular. You still weren’t entirely sure about him, but allowed yourself to be swayed over the attachment your son seemed to have developed over him.

“Well, you got me there,” he said, touching his chest lightly, “but you forget I’m a magician. I read it in the bird’s mind, actually.”

“No way!,” Charlie exclaimed, pushing away from your body and getting rid of whatever traces of sleepiness remained in his face, “really?!”

“Really!,” Jacob assured

He seemed to think on that for a few seconds as you shared a knowing look with Jacob. “Can you read my mind?”

“Oh, I can only read bird’s minds,” the man answered simply, “but I bet you’re still thinking about what the bird told me to give you.”

“Wrong,” Charlie giggled childishly, “I was thinking about what color your talking bird is.”

“See?,” Jacob gestured towards himself, as if resigned, “only bird-thoughts for me.”

“I want to know its color!,” Charlie protested and you giggled at the demand.

“Didn’t you tell me it was a blue one?,” you asked Jacob with a fake confused voice.

Jacob looked up at you, surprised at your input, but played along, “ah, yes,” he agreed, “a little blue bird asked me to give you this as a gift.” At that, the man pulled out the thin package from the insides of his coat.

“What is it?,” your son asked suddenly, twisting out of your arms as he leaned over and you were forced to put him down.

You looked at what Jacob had in hand — a bar of chocolate, of all things, and you were surprised the man even kept such a thing in mind. Smiling, you settled your gaze upon his face, at the pleased expression that spoke volumes of his character without the need for words.

“Chocolate,” Jacob explained, raising a finger before the boy could freak out, “but you gotta eat breakfast first, okay?”

Charlie pouted a bit, looking mildly disappointed even as Jacob offered him the candy. “Not even a piece?”

You supposed you owed him that much. Pretending not to pay attention at the exchange, you moved towards the stove and took the kettle out of the fire, pouring the fervent water into the teapot at the well-known ritual of making tea.

Looking over his shoulder — as you saw from the corner of your eye —, Jacob leaned down and whispered something to Charlie, who nodded eagerly, and gave him the candy back. You pretended you didn’t hear the clear sound of paper being unwrapped and the pleased giggle of your son as he rushed towards the bedroom with what you hoped wasn’t the entire bar right before breakfast.

“You shouldn’t have,” you whispered, voice softer than before, “you’re spoiling him.”

“It’s fine,” Jacob interjected, “he’s a kid.”

“Kids need to eat proper meals,” you huffed a laugh, looking at him as he leaned back against the counter beside you. “Thank you, though.”

He broke a piece of the chocolate and offered it to you. “You don’t have to thank me,” Jacob smiled when you took it, the candy melting a bit at where he had touched. “I’m glad you appreciate it, but you know that’s not what I’m looking for.”

You nibbled at it, reveling in its sweetness. It had been ages since you had had any chocolate and it was equal measures refreshing and heartwarming. “I hope you didn’t go out of your way for that,” you pointed out, fixing him with an amused look.

Jacob scoffed, breaking a small piece for himself, “no, I just happen to be a fan of chocolate myself,” he confessed, waving the still-considerable-bar in the air. “This is from my personal stash, actually.”

A stash. Again, the question about just who this man was nagged at the back of your mind. Chocolate was no cheap treat. “Don’t spoil him,” you looked at Jacob, stirring the infuser inside the teapot, “he’s too young and impressionable. Reality isn’t…,” you trailed off, lowering your head and staring at the chocolate in your hands.

“Reality isn’t what?,” Jacob called out, goading you on.

Sighing, you let go of the candy. “Reality isn’t this; random strange benefactors showing up at your flat,” you picked up the teapot, setting it over the table and moved towards the counter again, “with chocolate and food and offering to pay off your rent,” grabbing the piece of ham, you set it on the cutting board, “and wanting to give you money for whatever the reason!”

Jacob weighed your words, unmoving, and it both astounded and annoyed you in equal measures how he didn’t even flinch. “What is reality, then?”

You put the knife down, feeling the wet hot tears of anger welling up in your eyes. “It’s struggling,” you answered in a cold, matter-of-fact voice. “You work hard to gain your money, see that it’s not enough and you worry. You pay rent on your own, you buy food on your own, you teach your kids why’s that they can’t have a new toy or a pair of shoes on your own,” wiping the tears away, you fixed the man with a harsh stare, “that’s what reality is, and it’s not kind.”

He stayed silent for a short while, seeming to be mulling over what you had said and you were thankful for it in order to recollect yourself. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way,” Jacob whispered above the crackling of the fire and the distant chatter of the streets, “maybe fate has a kinder outlook on life than what you might be used to.”

Hesitating as you steadied yourself against the counter, you thought on what he had said. “It’s…,” stopping, you fixed a strand of hair behind your ear, “…a nice fantasy,” you decided ultimately, setting the plate of sliced ham on the table. The flat felt eerily quiet now, the tension in the air drowning out the sounds of the outer world. “But I won’t wait for it.”

It was a while since Jacob had been around.

Deep down, you feared you had been too harsh on your words; but in your defense, you were on the edge for days on end, looking for jobs that didn’t exist with people whispering behind your back in accusing tones; not to mention the whole situation with your son, now that he didn’t want go to Mrs. Dolloway’s. It wasn’t one of your best moments, you knew, but you couldn’t help but to lash out at anyone who pushed your buttons.

Sighing, you shook your head slightly, stitching a button into one of your worn out shirts. You wouldn’t be surprised if the man never showed up again; it had been almost a week, after all. You had paid rent with whatever was left of the money he had given you so freely before — under the doubtful gaze of Mr. Ross, who didn’t ask where you were getting those shiny new coppers — and feared what might come to happen if Tuesday came to be with you penniless.

Maybe you could sell one of your things, but what? You didn’t own anything but the necessary. It had been that way since father passed away, and—

No.

It wouldn’t do you any good to dive into painful memories and replay things over and over — you had to push forwards, no matter what.

With your mind set, you decided to get rid of the armchair if things didn’t improve soon. Nodding at your own decision, you looked over at the bedroom where Charlie slept soundly; lulled into sleep by the yellowish glow the fire from the stove cast into the walls of the flat. You couldn’t help but feel your heart squeeze tightly for him, as if someone had taken hold of it.

And that’s when frantic knock came down on the front door.

Startled, you hurriedly got up on your feet in order to stop the hellish noise before it woke your boy up. Muttering low curses, you went for the door and yanked it open with furrowed brows, only to be face to face with Jacob — a sweaty, red from exertion, with a manic smile Jacob.

“You won’t believe this!,” he started, letting himself in as he pushed the hood down from his face.

You were dumbstruck. He couldn’t be serious. “Jacob, you better have a good reason—“

“To come here in the middle of the night?,” he cut you, stepping closer and taking hold of your forearms with bare hands. “Believe me, I do!”

Curiosity spoke louder than the annoyance in your mind. “Out with it, then,” you spoke quietly, expertly shutting his mouth the moment he tried to speak again, “and try to be quieter, yes? Charlie’s asleep.”

Smiling wildly, Jacob leaned forwards — perhaps a bit too close than what you’d like — and whispered, “I got you a job.”

[awriterincrime]

Committed : Part Two (Harry Hook)

Prompt :  Aaliyah(reader), the daughter of Princess Tiana and Prince Naveen, is arranged a husband to maintain the legacy of Maldonia. What she didn’t expect was who she would be arranged with.

Warnings : cursing, violence

A/n : Ok, so chapter 1 did sooo much better than I expected! I got 200 notes in less than 24 hours, thats freaking unheard of! Im so glad everyone liked it, so I decided to write Part 2, and hopefully ill be able to continue it. Message me here if you want more!  

Part 1 / Part 3

In all honesty, Aaliyah had no idea what she was doing. Running off for the Isle on her own was a terrible idea, but she couldn't drag Evie back to a place she hated so much. She wanted to meet Harry, but she knew that was a challenge in itself.

Casually walking into the Isle as the Princess of Maldonia wasn't an option, unless she wanted to be held up for ransom the second her foot touched their shores. She had to go in disguised.

She reached the edge of the bridge connecting Auradon to the Isle. Parking her bike on the side of the road, she reached into her bag that Evie had filled with clothes. Knowing that the two had to go into the Isle, Evie had supplied Aaliyah with a few raggedy outfits to look just like any other resident of the Isle. She threw off her Auradon prep clothes, and hid them under a nearby bush.

Aaliyah looked down at her new clothes. It was probably the most raggedy outfit she had ever worn. Her top was stained with large holes that exposed her skin. The knees of her worn out jeans were ripped, and various patches were sewn on to cover up other holes. Her shoes were so beat up, her toes were breaking through the front.

She looked down at her reflection in the misty ocean below her. The rags on her body were like a costume. She felt as if she were playing dress up, yet she knew of the reality of the Isle. The starving children, the rotten homes. No wonder Evie wanted to run away,and how lucky she was to get away.

Aaliyah did her best to shrug off the thought, and began to bike across the bridge towards the Isle. It was going to be quite the adventure.

The sickly smell of the musty waters in the Isle filled Aaliyah’s nose as she hid her bike.  The air was filled with a deep grey fog, Aaliyah could barely see her hands in front of her. She listened to the sound of the crashing waves echo against the ruckus of the Isle. Stepping deeper into the alleyways, she watched as young children ran around while beggars tried to negotiate deals with salesman. The whole island felt dark and ill to Aaliyah, like a foreign world.

As she watched the commotion, she felt a light lift on her hip. Turning quickly, she watched as a small child ran off into the distance, carrying her wallet. “Hey!” She screamed, chasing after him.

The alleys of the Isle were incredibly thin and crowded. Aaliyah shoved her way through each and every person, trying to keep her eyes on the child. The aggressive shouts of by-standing pirates and villains began to scare Aaliyah, forcing her to pick up speed. She quickly glanced behind her, watching as a group of men were slowly following after her. “Shit.” She mumbled.

As Aaliyah picked up her pace, she could feel the soles of her worn shoes wearing into the rough ground. She could barely see the child that she was chasing anymore, but she felt that she had bigger problems now.

The men were closing their distance to Aaliyah, and she knew she needed to act fast. The kid has turned the corner into a distant corridor and Aaliyah could see a dead end coming up. She had no choice but to follow.

Sprinting down the corner, the faint street lights flickered mysteriously above Aaliyah. Barely able to make out her own shadows, she still chased down the slim figure in front of her. It felt as if the walls were closing in on her, and the farther she ran, the closer they got.

“Well, well.” A deep and scruffy voice erupted from the darkness. Aaliyah stopped in her tracks. She no longer could hear the footsteps of the men who had been chasing her. It was most definitely not the voice of a 10 year old child. It was a trap.

“Who's there?” Aaliyah shouted, her voice wavering just slightly.  “Show yourself.”

Out of the shadows, a group of men surrounded her from all sides. She could barely make out their figures, but by their roughed up clothing and gravelly voices she knew they were pirates. “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”

“But I do.” One of the men shouted with a wide grin before charging straight at Aaliyah. She shrieked in terror before jumping swiftly to the side, avoiding the man’s attack. His sprint was so fast, he ran straight into the brick wall behind her, knocking himself unconscious, dropping a sword.

Quickly picking up the sword, she turned to face the others in front of her. There were three more men surrounding her.

“Alright, you want me?” Aaliyah angrily shouted. The men grinned as they looked at each other. She prayed softly to herself that she could recall all those times she practiced fencing with Jay and Lonnie during gym. “Come and get me.”

The pirate on the left came charging at her first, violently slashing her sword straight at her throat. Aaliyah jumped backwards, dodging each swing before throwing a hard left hook at his face. He stumbled backwards, running into one of the other pirates.

The two grumbled at each other as Aaliyah charged towards them, sending a high kick towards both of the them, knocking them both in the jaw. The men stumbled backward in an attempt to catch their footing, but Aaliyah was quicker. Using the blunt end of her sword, she stabbed the first man, knocking him onto the ground.

The second stood in shock as she slashed her sword at his chest, barely missing his throat. The pirate threw a quick fist at Aaliyah, hitting her across her face. She stumbled back, a new anger inside her heart. She charged forward, making a large gash in the pirates arm with her sword. The pirate cried out in pain, giving Aaliyah an advantage. She punched the pirate, knocking him to the ground. Kicking in his ribs, the pirate begged for mercy as Aaliyah backed away. The two groaned on the ground together as Aaliyah caught her footing to face the last man standing.

The man looked at her with a conflicted stare. He was hesitant to attack, obviously, worried he would end up like his two mates next to him. Aaliyah grinned with pride as she aimed her sword towards his chest.

“Would you like me to finish you off?” She asked with a cheeky smile.

Suddenly, a loud crash interrupted the two as the man was hit by the edge of a sword, stumbling to his feet.

“I'll take care of that.” Aaliyah heard a voice laugh from in front of her. The sound of a sword followed as the man attacked at the new mysterious figure, slashing violently in their direction.

“Not today, lad.” The voice boasted before fending off the man's attacks. Stepping into the light, Aaliyah studied the new pirate that  had joined the fight.

He was tall, had a confident swagger about him, and was devilishly handsome. His tattered clothes were a jumbled mix of red and black patches, with a few gold rings and a feathered pirate hat atop his head. He fought diligently, stabbing at the other pirate with quick and swift jabs. His grin was wide as he let out a sinister laugh that echoed throughout the hall.

The most defining feature, though, was the large silver hook in his left hand. Hook. Aaliyah's eyes widened as she came to the realization very quickly.

Harry.

It had to be Harry. Evie went on and on about how she hated the Hook he always had on him, and how it was his way of paying homage to his father.

Aaliyah watched carefully as the last pirate was knocked to ground by the end of Harry’s sword. Letting out a hearty laugh, Harry bent down to meet the man’s level.

“Now I suggest ye’ and your friends make quick. We wouldn't want Uma to hear about this little scuffle,” Harry threatened, placing the sharp edge of the sword to the man's neck. “Now would we?”

The man shook his head no quickly, and struggled to stand as he and the two other pirates fled the alleyway without looking back.

Harry and Aaliyah both watched as they disappeared into the commotion of Isle before their sight was gone. Slowly, Harry turned to face Aaliyah's stiff figure, stepping closer and closer towards her.

She could see him clearly for the first time. His chiseled jaw, blinding grin, and his piercing blue eyes. The shade was so light, it reminded Aaliyah of an ocean that was stormy and wild, yet calm. She would have gotten lost in them if he hadn't have spoken.

“Rookie mistake, messing with Sylvester's crew like that.” Harry squinted his eyes at her, looking her up and down, probably studying her as well. His thick Scottish accent was just as memorable as Evie had described.

“I took care of myself fairly well, I believe.” Aaliyah snapped back. Harry’s smirk formed into a mischievous grin, almost entertained by her response.“Stronger than you might think.”

Harry chuckled at her confidence, stepping closer to her. Before Aaliyah could react, Harry charged at her, backing her into the brick wall behind her. His right hand wrapped behind her waist as his hook aimed straight for her throat.  His chest was pressed against hers, their faces too close for comfort. Aaliyah looked up at him in horror as she tried to catch her breath from the surprise.

“Aye, not so tough anymore, eh?” His devilish grin was by far intimidating as he placed his hook underneath her chin. Aaliyah gulped softly, his hot breath on her face made the hairs on her neck stand up.

“Now, I know every Lassie’s face on the Isle, except yours.” Harry said with a curious look, his  hook gently caressing her cheek.

He didn't recognize her.  He didn't know who she was. Aaliyah didn't know how to feel. A part of her was relieved that she had managed to remain anonymous, but how long would she be able to keep up the act? “So, who are you, darling?”

Aaliyah turned her face away from his sinister gaze. “What's it matter to you?”

“Uma isn't particularly fond of visitors. We've already had Auradon on our shores, who’s to say yer’ not just another one of them, hm?” Harry moved her face back to align with his, watching every movement on her face.

His eyes had turned from intriguing to unpredictable in less than an instant. The dark charcoal eyeliner that outlined them made his stare psychotic stare ever so terrifying.

Aaliyah’s mind was racing. If he hadn’t recognized her, maybe he hadn’t known who she was, Princess and all. If Harry didn’t know who she was now, she didn’t want to see what he would do when he found out. But she needed to get her closure, to get closer to him.

“I'm not from Auradon.” She lied, pushing his body off hers. He stumbled backward, nearly falling over before catching his footing.

“Then where, darling?” His voice turned into a slight growl, bothered by her force. His childish glare had turned dark, and anger set in his eyes. Aaliyah’s breath hitched, a newfound terror set in.

“You wouldn’t know, my father travels a lot.” She folded her arms across her chest, her heart racing so fast, she worried that he would be able to hear it himself.

“Aye, and who would that be?” He asked, tilting his head slightly with a menacing glare.

Shit. If she had known she was going to have dug herself into such a deep hole, she would’ve thought of a cover before arriving on the island. She couldn’t reveal herself now, unless she wasn’t to be strung up for ransom. His sword was leaning closer and closer towards her body, urging her on.

“T-the Shadow Man.” Aaliyah blurted out haphazardly, not even thinking before speaking.

“The Shadow Man?” Harry repeated as Aaliyah nodded along. His previous cocky attitude had diminished into a more curious demeanor. Aaliyah nodded repeatedly, a small sweat forming at her brow.

Aaliyah had learned enough about her parents enemy, the Shadow Man, through bedtime stories and local legends to fake being his child. There wasn’t much to go about him, other than he was the King of Voodoo magic, and there were more myths surrounding his name than facts. She could keep up the lie for a while, she just hoped he would believe it.

Harry looked at her inquisitively. “The Shadow Man doesn’t have a daughter.”

Aaliyah laughed slightly, trying to keep up the act. “You think I’m the only secret he has? He’s the Shadow Man. No one knows everything about him, not even me.”

Aaliyah couldn’t tell if he was sold on the act. He paced around her menacingly, before speaking again. “Aye, then what is your name, infamous daughter of Dr. Facilier?”

Aaliyah spoke quickly, spitting out the first cover up that came to mind. “Lia, Lia Facilier.”

Harry was beyond intrigued by the girl that stood in front of him, staring down at his threatening hook. He watched her carefully, the mysterious look in her eyes made him shiver. She was effortlessly beautiful, even in her tattered rags. Harry hated the unfamiliar, yet she seemed to be different. It was no question that she was hiding something from the pirate, but he had no clue as to what.

“Why should I believe you, eh?” Harry asked. “No one just comes to the Isle.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. “I have nothing to explain to you.” Harry saw the attitude and ferocity in the way she spoke. She wasn’t scared, and that intrigued him.

“Oh, don’t be like that darling.” Harry cooed softly with a smirk, his free hand gently stroking her side. “You do remember who just saved your life?”

Smacking his hand away, the girl glared back at him as Harry laughed to himself. “Aye, I mean no harm, lassie. I just need answers, that’s all.”

“What you need to do, is let me leave.” She barked back at him.

“Ooh, a feisty one, now aren’t we?” Harry grinned as he watched a slight blush creep on the apples of her cheeks. She noticed Harry’s grin, turning her head to the side quickly, avoiding eye contact with him. “Uma is going to love you.”

“Who is Uma?” Her eyes furrowed together, carefully watching Harry. He enjoyed it.

“She’s my captain, Queen of the Isle.” Harry replied. “She’s going to love meeting you.”

“Who says I’m going to meet her?”

“I do.” Harry’s voice dropped, his presence intimidating, even to himself. “I let you go, you meet me at the Fish and Chip shop. Tonight.” He waited as she processed Harry’s demand. He could see her mind whirring, he wanted to know what she was thinking.

“So, you let me go,” She asked with a sly smile. “who's to say I won’t come back?” Her smile was infectious to Harry, glowing brighter than any gold piece he had ever seen. He could feel his heart flutter when her eyes bore into his, a feeling he hadn't felt for years.

His eyes trailed down from her face, to a small shine around her neck. He carefully placed his hook around her, pulling a small gold chain that connected to a small locket. He watched her eyes slowly widen at the gold piece slowly lifting from her neck. He could tell from her eyes its importance.

“Aye, what a beautiful piece of merchandise.” He smiled, yanking the necklace off of her neck.

“Hey!” She shouted. “Give that back.” She lunged forward at Harry, but he dodged her quick attack, grabbing her arm and pinning it against his chest.

“What’s so important about this piece of jewelry?” He hung the necklace on his hook, examining it. It looked far more expensive that any piece he had ever seen. Especially for the child of a villain.

“That necklace is a family heirloom, directly from my father.” She started, attempting to reach for the piece, but he pulled it away.

“Ah, then, I know you’ll come back for it.” Harry grinned, putting the necklace into his pocket. She scoffed at him, making him smile.

“The Fish and Chip shop, tonight.” He stated firmly. “Or your heirloom becomes a part of my royal collection.”

She sighed in defeat.“Fine. Tonight.” She spoke coldly, a dead look in her eye.

“Until tonight, Miss Lia.” Harry winked at her, before disappearing into the commotion of the Isle.

“Where the hell have you been?” Harry’s captain, Uma, shouted as Harry entered the fish and chip shop. Shoving Gil aside, Harry sat down at a stool facing Uma’s angry stature.

“I had a run-in with some of Sylvester’s mates.” Harry sighed, grabbing a cold glass of some strange brown liquid that he didn't feel like questioning at the moment.

Uma groaned at the mention of Sylvester’s name. Sylvester, also known as the son of Mr. Smee, was an enemy of Uma’s crew. Even though he and Harry had grown up together, the two were always at each other's throats. “What were they even doing with you?”

“I found them.” Harry stated, chugging down his drink. “They were chasing after a girl.”

Uma turned to face Harry, her attention obviously peaked. “A girl, who?”

“She claimed to be the daughter of the Shadow Man.” Harry leaned back in his chair, twirling his hook along his fingers. “I’ve never seen the lass on the Isle before.”

Uma growled to herself, visibly upset. “We’ve had too many visitors on the Isle. I don’t trust it.”

“She sounds harmless.” Gil added in, stuffing his face with a clam stew. “ What’s the problem with a girl on the Isle?.”

“She nicked three of Sylvester’s men, all on er’ own.” Harry said with a grin. He had watched a good portion of the fight, and admired her skill and wit.“She’s a fighter, and she’s good.”

“Aw, does Harry have a little crush?” Gil teased, poking the pirates side. Harry glared in Gil’s direction, an obvious notion to back down.

“I don’t care if she’s the daughter of Lucifer himself, I want to know why she’s here.” Uma exclaimed. “Too many strangers are on the Isle, and I want to get to the bottom of it.”

“Well, why not send Harry? He already knows her. He’ll probably want to flirt with her some more.” Gil suggested, making kissy faces at the pirate. Harry rolled his eyes, giving Gil a light smack on the back of the head.

Uma smiled at Gil, shaking her head in delight. “Harry, where is this girl?”

“I left her on the other side of the island.” Harry replied.

“I want her here.” Uma stepped close to Harry, her hands gripping the sides of his collar. “Bring her to me, Harry.

“Don’t worry, Captain.” Harry said with a sly smile, pulling the gold necklace from her pocket. “She’ll be back. I made sure of it.”

A/n : Sooo, not my best chapter, but i hope you guys like it. Message me feedback plz!! I live off of it.

Taglist : @lyssafarnzie @tahreemhaq576 @booktvmoviefangirl @ronijdubb @emilielskov @bellisis @candyapplegirl @sorryyoureoutofmyleague @ilikechocolatemilkh @green-spotlight @asexualmarauder @ninquellote @spiderlingh @catcherintheclifford @thejourneyofabrokenheart @krazykat16 @callme-crowley @nitakali @badassbeckettswan @theladiesofliterature @princess7184 @magicandmystery @bellmorely @fandomrelative @lovepizza-cake11 @myfavoriteimaginesblog @little-miss-quicksilver @tfandom101 @happytrekkieworld @dizzymemories77 @maddiiieeee1 @travelnottogoanywherebuttogo @heyya352 @frozenhuntress67 @rebloggedimagines @youdrathetwatchatvshow @broadwaylover24601 @fulltime-fandomwriter @brittymolly @annabelle5724 

[ukulelewrites]

Epiphany

A/N: omgomgomg after a billion years I finally finished my first full length fic *applause* Anyways ty to the beautiful network of people that are the #1 hype squad @smols-n-tols. I hope you guys enjoy~

Pairing: NCT’s Ten x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Slight Humor? Just Another Soulmate!AU ™

Word Count: roughly 4k

It was the way your heart ached when you knew: another break-up, another death, another affair.

You learned of this defect when you were younger. You’d hear your mother talk quietly to your grandmother about it, about how her daughter had La Douleur Exquise. Your soulmate in your past life rejected you; the heartbreak he bestowed upon you stayed with you into your next life and the life after that. The ache only ends when they finally accept you as their soulmate. The probability of finding your soulmate in the world is one out of seven billion. Of course the rules of the universe do not punish you for not finding your soulmate; it only punishes you when you’re rejected by them. The ache only appeared when you were near someone else with a broken heart.

You remember passing by the golden couple in senior year and feeling the familiar ache. You remember staying at your aunt’s house after your uncle’s funeral and feeling sharp pangs in your chest. The pain amplified with the severity of the heartbreak. That golden couple was just another ill-fated high school romance, doomed from the start. However, your aunt and uncle were soulmates; they were tied together by the numbers written across their right wrist, their soulmark. The six numbers were simple; the first two showed your soulmate’s birthday, the next two was your soulmate’s birth month, and the last two were the ending two numbers of their birth year. 270296. Those were printed in red ink across your wrist, a constant reminder of your past’s rejection.

You blew another bubble towards the toddlers that waddled around you. It was your town’s annual spring carnival, and your friend roped you into helping her out. She sat at the picnic table turning children into tigers and pandas while you entertained the little ones with bubbles and the occasional fairy tale. It was your fourth telling of Cinderella when your friend closed up shop for lunch. Her shirt was stained with blobs of paint, her face covered in splatters of glitter, and flecks of paint found their way to her hair. “Do you think any of the food trucks have anything for three dollars and a nickel?” she asked as she counted the loose change in her palm. You paid no mind to what she said as you were too preoccupied with the ache in your chest. At this point in time, you couldn’t help but muse at the possibilities. Another unrequited love? Another failed teen romance? The possibilities were endless, especially with the amount of people around you. “Another heartache?” your friend asked with a wry smile.

You kept your sleeves pulled past your hands. It was freshman year of high school, and after the hellhole of middle school, you weren’t showing your mark to anyone. You didn’t even understand why they wanted to see; multiple people share the same birthdays. Their soulmate might not be the stoner that sat next to them in class, but it could be his salutatorian twin brother. Your parents made it known that even if they share birthdays; you will know. They say it’s the magnetic pull that person has on you. Your soulmate will pull you in, and you will pull them in. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to go. You kept your head down, keeping your eyes on the tattered bio textbook. If you stayed quiet and didn’t anything too drastic, no one will notice you. No one will notice the red numbers on your wrist. You were so engrossed by your thoughts that you didn’t noticed the girl that slipped into the stool next to you. “Hello!” she said before snapping her gum, “I’m (F/N).”

It was that day when you found solace in someone else. She would hover around you in the classes you shared, and she found her way at your lunch table halfway through sophomore year. It was the first time you had someone you could call a friend. It was a Saturday night in junior year when you showed her your mark. You expected her to apologize or to look at you in disgust, like all those other people did before, but she didn’t. She gave it a once over and then proceeded to ask for more popcorn. It was that moment when you realized you found your best friend.

Your t-shirt clung uncomfortably to your back as you waited for your pink lemonade. The boy who took your order kept on banging his head on the window whenever he stuck his head out to call out numbers. “96! Order 96! One pink lemonade!” he called out. You wove your way through the crowd that was gathered around the cart and handed him your ticket. “Yo, Y/N, is that you?” You looked up to see Johnny Seo, the boy who sat behind you in AP Chem senior year. Also the boy who happened to be your best friend’s soulmate. “Yeah, (F/N) is over there by Taeyong’s truck if you want to see her before she’s taken away by the toddlers again.” He playfully sent a glare towards the food truck across from his. “Ya know, the name Dungeon Truck might scare some customers away, but look at our food! Pink lemonade, grilled cheese, smiley face tater-tots, it’s all for the irony. Right, Hansol?” The blonde stuck his head from behind Johnny and gave a quick nod before returning his attention back to his grilled cheese. “Your food is bomb, Johnny. But, TY Truck has Taeyong and Jaehyun. You can’t really beat that. Plus Winwin’s ice cream truck is doing really well too!” Kun perked up from behind Johnny before being swatted away from your view by the latter.

“When all the boys of Nu Chi Tau decide to compete with food trucks, you know the popularity of the spring carnival skyrockets,” (F/N) absentmindedly said as she dug her spoon into the scoop of chocolate ice cream that sat between you two. You can tell she was watching the flock of girls that swarmed around Johnny’s truck; she absentmindedly swiped her thumb across her soulmark. “Eh, he knows you’ll kill him if he tries anything,” you said while sipping at your drink. The ache was coming back. You looked around you and only saw smiling faces, and you hoped to god this ache wasn’t because of (F/N). Luckily, Johnny came over to steal your best friend away, and the pain was still there after they left. “At least, they’re in love,” you wistfully thought to yourself, “but why does it still hurt?” You stood up, hoping for some form of relief, but it got worse. “It’s fine; I’ll be fine,” you repeated as you cleared off the picnic bench.  You decided to go back to the face paint tent and find solace in the toddlers. (F/N) was already there by the time you got back, and she was lovingly painting a dick on Johnny’s face. The toddlers weren’t back yet, thank god. You quickly approached the loving couple.

“Oh, (F/N), I forgot to introduce you to my friend. He just moved back here, and he’s rejoining Nu Chi and-” Johnny was cut off.

“That’s very nice, sweetie, but I need to finish this before the kids come back.”

You didn’t want to interrupt the moment between them, but the pain was too much. “(F/N)-”

Johnny interrupted you, “Hey (F/N), my friend is right behind (Y/N)! Did you guys meet alrea-” You fainted before he could finish his sentence. The last thing you remembered was a pair of arms catching you before you could hit the ground.

You opened your eyes to the familiar sight of your dorm’s beige walls. (F/N) was pacing around the room. You lifted yourself off of the bed, “(F/N), are you okay?”

She whipped her head towards you, and her eyes grew comically large, “You faint in the middle of the spring carnival, and you’re asking if I’m okay? You’re really something, (Y/N).”

“It’s nothing bad. My heartache just got really bad, and it probably got too much and- How did I get back to the dorm? You aren’t exactly the strongest person in the world.”

“Oh, Johnny’s friend brought us back to the dorm because my boyfriend couldn’t leave Hansol alone in the truck to talk to customers,” she rolled her eyes at the last half of her comment. She then smirked. “You know, his friend is really cute by the way. Like, he’s a definite 10.”

You snorted, “You know I’m not interested in dating anyone.”

“Who said you guys had to date? A simple, nice-” You threw a pillow at her face.

It has been two days since the spring carnival, and (F/N) is still talking about the friend. “He’s a definite 10, like-” You slammed your book shut and shot her a dirty look before storming out of the library. She knew by now that you had no interest in dating; you weren’t interested in the fact they’ll run off once they see your wrist. The makeup covered up the ugly red numbers well, but you knew if anyone got too close, they’d see it. Then, your heart started aching again. This one just as intense as the spring carnival one. You tripped over your own feet and landed hard onto the sidewalk. You ignored the curious glances as you curled up into a ball and let out a cry. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it-” those thoughts kept playing through your head, and another cry parted your lips. Then you felt a hand on your shoulder; it made another ache shoot through your heart, but you felt warmth from it. The person was trying to help you up. “No stop, it hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS!” your mind shouted out. You were sitting upright now and from behind your hair you looked up.

He looked so kind. Your eyes couldn’t help brim with tears again. Your heart ached so much, but you couldn’t help it. He was ethereal. You couldn’t help but want him, even if it tore your heart apart. The way he tilted his head; the way his nose sloped cutely upwards; the way his- no, stop, please stop. Your heart ached harder the more your thoughts wandered. That was when you knew; he was your soulmate. That was when you jolted to your feet.

You booked it. Your legs and arms pumping hard, carrying you anywhere, anywhere but there. The ache was dulling the further you got away, but the tears kept on coming. You ended up in front of the Nu Chi building. The door was always unlocked, so you barged right on in to find your source of comfort. “Yuta!” you called out as you walked up their stairs, but your legs were too weak at this point. You fell down onto the steps and let out another sob, “Yuta, I need you.”

“(Y/N), are you okay?” he was dressed for soccer practice, but he stopped his tracks when he saw you there. “C’mon, let’s go to my room.”

He wrapped you up in the fuzzy blanket and gave you a box of tissues. “What happened?” That was when you told him everything he missed out on while he was away: the spring carnival, the friend, the heartache, the whole soulmate thing. He sat the on the floor listening to everything. He didn’t care that the sun was down now, and coach was gonna be on his ass for missing practice because you were here. You were there upset and crying on his bed; there was no way he could leave you alone during all of this. He remembered when his soulmark turned blue; his soulmate died, and he’d never meet her in this lifetime. He remembered every emotion he went through, and there was no way he’d let you go through that.

“If he’s a member of Nu Chi, then he’d be back home soon. You should probably head home soon,” Yuta said as the noise level downstairs went up.

“Are you making me walk home alone, in the dark, in this state?” you pouted from your blanket fort.

He wavered for a minute, “Fine, I’ll walk you home, and maybe I’ll figure out who it is. If we’re talking newer members that recently came back or joined, Mark, Winwin, Donghyuk…”

Your heart came back to kick you in the ass. “God fucking damnit,” you uttered. The ache amplified as the footsteps towards Yuta’s bedroom got louder. You shut your eyes shut and pulled the blanket closer to yourself. Yuta’s eyes widened in realization. The door was thrown open, and he was there. “Yuta, I was- Hey, you’re the girl from earlier…” he was cut off by your very dramatic reenactment of the spring carnival incident.

“It’s Ten, isn’t it?” (F/N) when she noticed that your eyes were open. Yuta must’ve taken you back to your dorm.

“Yeah, it’s the 10 out of fucking 10 guy you were talking about-”

“His name is Ten; he just returned from some dance competition in Thailand, and he’s your soulmate,” she blurted out in one breath. Disbelief was written all over her face. You scooted over on your bed to make room for her. The two of you laid side by side, trying to decypher the situation.

“You know, if he’s your soulmate, and he accepts you. Doesn’t that mean this whole heartache thing goes away?”

“If he accepts me. Remember, he rejected me in the past; he can do it again.”

“But that was a past-him. This is present him; who happens to have a black soulmark, so he doesn’t know about any past rejections. This is a chance for you to get rid of this stupid curse and to finally have a soulmate that, you know, reciprocates.”

“How can he accept me if I can barely be near him without passing out?”

“Skype? Snapchat? You use technology more than I do!” (F/N) threw her hands up into the air.

“I know, but still, online relationships don’t work out most of the time. Plus, won’t he think something is weird if I live on the same campus as him but only want to see him online?”

She paused for a moment, “True, what if there’s a way to hold off the pain?”

She had dragged you to some voodoo bullshit shop tucked away in some back alley. “(Y/N), Em here will help you with everything. After all, she was the one who directed me to Johnny,” (F/N) said with a satisfied look on her face.

“No, (F/N), 10 shots of tequila and a lap dance directed Johnny to you.”

“Same difference, Em was the one who told me to go to the party. She said, ‘Don’t fret over mistakes, instead live freely and release your bad vibes.’ I totally failed my internship interview that day, but she told me to go to the party instead of moping in my room. I went to that party instead and met my soulmate!”

“Or you took some lady’s hella broad advice and coincidentally met your soulmate at a party. You could’ve easily gone out with me that night to release your ‘bad vibes.’”

Before (F/N) could reply, a small woman came out from the back room. She quickly went up to (F/N) and engulfed her in a hug. “My beautiful child, have you come here for me to read your fate again? I assume all is well with Mr. Tall & Handsome?” She topped it off with a wink.  Yeah, you had to get out of here.

“And who is this lovely lady?” she said as she sauntered up to you.

“I’m (Y/N), and this is a mistake. I really should get—” you were cut off when she suddenly grabbed you by the arm and pulled your wrist closer to her. Her thumb swiped at your wrist until the makeup came off, revealing your glaringly red soulmark. Her eyes widened, “He has found you. No, you have found him. He must know of this,” she rubbed the soulmark again. Her grasp on your arm loosened, and she hurried into her backroom. (F/N) gave you an “I-told-you-so” look. The woman came back out and tightly wrapped red string around your wrist; she then covered it with black fabric. “This will lessen the pain. Replace the red string every week or so.” (F/N) hurriedly grabbed your arm and yanked you out the door while shouting goodbye to the little lady.

“There’s no way in hell—”

“Shut up, it’s going to work, and you will finally have some bombass dick in your life.”

It was the night after your meeting with the small lady, and (F/N) decided to put the bracelet to the test. That was how the two of you ended up outside of Nu Chi, ready for a typical frat party. The slight ache in your chest was still there, but was overshadowed by the rapid thumping of your heart against your ribcage. A slight lightheadedness overcame you as you walked up the steps. (F/N) wrapped her arm around your shoulders and maneuvered you through the crowd. She led you to the basement where Johnny sat, nursing a cup of liquor. Ten was nowhere in sight. “Johnny!” (F/N) exclaimed as she plopped down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. You awkwardly stood in the center of the room, “So Johnny, any pledges worth noting?”

“You hoe,” he joked, “Nah, well, Ten returned from his dance competition, but I bet you he’s banging some chick upstairs now.”

“How, er, lovely. Anyways, where’s the liquor?”

Johnny absentmindedly waved his cup towards the stairs, “Don’t get too shit faced!”

You maneuvered around the dancing bodies towards the kitchen. Yuta was standing at the counter mixing hell knows what into his cup. “(Y/N), you actually came tonight!”

“I decided not to hole myself up with my textbook for once,” you shouted over the music. He gave you your own cup and guided you to the backyard.

“So, Ten’s your soulmate?” he asked after the two of you sat down on the grass.

“I guess so, but it doesn’t really mean anything at this point. Like, he might not even feel that connection thing between us.”

Then a voice came from above, “Hey Yuta, got any cond—oh, you have company.”

You looked up to see Ten sticking his head out the window and couldn’t help but notice the curtain of pink hair that fell beside him. You bit the inside of your cheek in annoyance at the slight ache that ran through your chest. Yuta carefully looked over to you before replying, “Second drawer from the top in my bedside drawer!” You chugged down the rest of your cup.

Yuta kept you away from the liquor after you drained two cups in the matter of minutes. “Okay, (Y/N), I’m going to leave you here for a second. Don’t go near the bar, or I swear to god…” he shouted over the music. You leaned against the wall and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Suddenly, the ache returned. You looked around but didn’t see him anywhere. You tugged irritably at the band of fabric around your wrist. “Useless piece of shit—” your muttering was cut off by a slight brush against your shoulder. Suddenly, a surge of warmth and ease moved throughout your body. A tingling sensation surged over you, and you, embarrassingly enough, let out a low moan. “Uh, hey, are you okay?” someone said to you as their hands tried to help steady you. Another wave of euphoria washed over your body; you slowly peeked your eyes open to see Ten peering down at you. His eyes widened in realization, “Hey! You’re that girl that keeps passing out whenever I meet you! Glad to see you in a conscious state, I’m Ten.” He extended his hand; you eyed it warily before grasping it firmly. You quickly regretted it as more warmth washed over you; a whimper barely escaped your lips before you grimaced, “Nice to meet you too.” Soon the pink haired girl appeared behind him, whispered in his ear, and whisked him away.

“So you’re telling me that instead of feeling pain now when you’re around him, you feel euphoria?” (F/N) asked bewildered. Some nearby students glared at her; the librarian shot her a glare.

“Well technically, I have to touch him to-” a quick glare cut you off, “Yeah, it’s euphoria now instead of pain.” Right as you said that, a sharp pang returned to your chest, then the pink haired girl walked quickly past you, tears streaming down her face. You then noticed a guilty looking Ten sitting two tables away from yours. (F/N) nudged your foot, sending you a look, “Go talk to him.” Anxiety soon gnawed at your stomach, “Ya know, (F/N), I don’t feel well right now, I’m just gonna lea-” she glared at you, “Okay, okay, fine, I’ll talk to him.” You stood up and collected all of your books before making your way towards his table. “Um, hey, Ten. It’s Girl Faints-A-Lot,” you cringe internally at the poorly chosen nickname, but your anxiety softened at the light chuckle he emitted. “Girl Faints-A-Lot, huh? What about your real name?” he motioned for you to sit across from him, which you gladly took, and as you were organizing your pens, you told him your name. “(Y/N), hm, doesn’t quite roll off of the tongue like Girl Faints-A-Lot, right?” he was smirking at you now, and you couldn’t help but physically cringe at the name again. “Please don’t ever, just, no. I want to take back that entire statement now,” you said as you buried your face behind your face. Ten grabbed your hands and pulled them away from your face, causing a warmth to run through you, “I don’t know, (Y/N). I thought it was pretty cute.” He then released your arms from his grasp and walked out of the library.

The next time you saw Ten was at a small get-together at Nu Chi’s house. (F/N) casually plopped herself down on Johnny’s lap, and you took a seat on the floor nearby Ten’s feet. With a strong sense of courage, and before your shame could sink in, you leaned against Ten’s leg, sighing as the warmth washed over you. Then you felt a hand rest itself on your head before it ran through your hair; you couldn’t help stop the smile that crept itself onto your lips. You heard a low chuckle from behind you, so you leaned your head back to see Ten smiling down at you.

You don’t know how it happened, but slowly the relationship between you and Ten began to blossom into something a little bit more. However, as the affections increased, whatever magic that was in the bracelet was beginning to wear off. At first when the pangs came back around Ten, you brushed it off as another break-up within the frat. However, one night when you and Ten were alone in the library cramming for the final, the pangs came back full force, causing you to lurch forward in your seat. Ten quickly grabbed your hand, “(Y/N), you okay?” You waved him off, giving an excuse about a cramp before packing up your things and running out of the door.

You sat in front of Em, fidgeting in your seat under her scrutiny. “So the bracelet stopped working?” she questioned. You quickly nodded, “Everything was going fine, but then one day it just, poof, went back to normal.” She hummed under her breath as she scoured through her bookshelves trying to find something to explain it. She then caught sight of a small leather booklet laid haphazardly on the top of a pile of junk, grabbing it quickly, and flipping through the pages. “Ah hah!” she exclaimed before rushing towards you, “He is in the stage of falling for you! The bracelet stopped working because you don’t need it anymore. Just get him to fall for you full-heartedly, and you’ll be free!” You sat there in silence, absorbing the newfound information, “But Em, how am I supposed to get him to fall full-heartedly for me if I can’t even approach him?” She waved you off as she went to her backroom, “That’s not my problem, darling. Don’t you kids have, what’s it called? Snapcat?”

After days of avoiding Ten, you realized that running away from all of this wasn’t going to fix your situation, so that was how you ended up in Ten’s room fiddling with the ends of your hoodie. “I’m sorr-” you started, but Ten quickly enveloped you in his arms; you tried your best to fight off the wince. “God, as long as you’re okay,” he murmured into your hair. You could’ve stayed like that forever, but you came here with a purpose, so you nudged him off of you and, with a quiet voice, said, “You don’t have to care so much, Ten. Our whole thing is only temporary until you meet your soulmate.” The end of your sentence trailed off, and you tried to ease the tension in the room with a half-hearted laugh which quickly died off when you saw the expression on Ten’s face. “I don’t believe in that stuff, (Y/N),” he said, stone-faced. You looked at him questionably, “What do you mean? Everyone believes in it even if they say the-” your voice caught in the back of your throat when you finally realized something you should’ve noticed a lot earlier; his wrists were bare. Absolutely zero ink of any kind adorn his wrists. At that realization you stood up with shaky legs, “Oh well, I’m so so sorry. I just thought, I don’t know how to say...Ten, you’re my soulmate.” After you finished those words you bolted out the door, fearing rejection once again.

“Order 96! Order 96!” the barista hollered from behind the counter of the college’s cafe. You handed her your ticket and took your drink, giving her a quick thank you before you headed for the door; however, your steps stilled once you heard a familiar voice call out your name. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” You knew it was him, so for the third time in your life, you ran out the doors away from him. However, this time, he ran after you. Ten caught up to you quickly and stopped you. You winced at the increased intensity of the pain, but something in you couldn’t make you pull away. You heard Ten panting softly as he turned you around to face him. “(Y/N), I talked to (F/N), okay? I know you suffer from La whatever something in French, okay? But I want you to know that I love you, and I’m not saying this out of sympathy or whatever other bullshit excuse you made up in your head to justify you avoiding me. I’m saying I love you because you stay up til 3am helping me study for my Econ final which you’re not even taking; I love you because you never complain whenever I have dance practice until dead into the night and have to cancel our date plans, yet you still show up to my studio with snacks and drinks, and lastly, I love you because you’re you. Okay? I don’t know how stupid past me must’ve been to reject the most amazing woman to have entered my life. Well, after my mom, but you know what I mean.” You stood there in awe, trying to run his monologue through your mind. Ten was growing antsy at your silence, “Oh screw it.” He pulled you closer to him and pressed his lips firmly against yours. Your eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed, and in front of the cafe, with a hot chocolate with one hand, you felt the pangs in your chest melt away into warmth.

[kaleidopewrites]

You Will Come Back To Us (Part 2)

Summary: Teagan and her daughter Paige, float through the days in Storybrooke; oblivious to the curse that surrounds them. 

Pairing: Jefferson x OC

Word Count: 1219

Warnings: none

A/N: Hey guys, here’s part two. I hope the series is going well, and you’re liking it :)  Sorry for any grammar mistakes I may have missed

I was awake before my alarm, the night terrors still hanging in the air. I shut it off quickly, not eager to face the day but putting on a smile anyway. I rose from my bed, running my fingers through my hair as I walked over to the bathroom. I saw the bags under my eyes and, with a sigh, started on the daily makeup to mask them.

I walked out of the bathroom before putting on my work clothes, smiling a little at their strangeness. The good thing about owning your own business is that I’m not abiding to a dress code other than one I set for myself. Meaning, I could wear whatever I wanted. Being a seamstress and all helps bring out my own style as well.

I walked across the hall to where Paige slept. I smiled, genuinely this time, as I crept inside. “Paige,” I cooed, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. “Time to get up, sweetie.” I smiled when I saw her begin to stir. She rolled over to face me, a weary look in her eyes. “I don’t wanna go to school today.” She groaned, letting out a series of fake coughs. I knew when she was lying.

“Paige,” I sighed, running my fingers over her face to push her light brown hair away. “You have to go to school, remember?” I smiled warmly down at her. All she wanted to do was stay in the tailor’s all day, learning to make clothes. “But I’m sick,” She coughed again, trying to prove her point. I played her game, putting my hand to her forehead.

“That’s strange, I can’t pick up a fever.” I mumbled and the look on her face told me I had caught her in the act. She clearly didn’t think about a fever. “But… oh no,” I mumbled, staring into her eyes. She looked horrified. “Nope, maybe I was wrong, maybe you have gotten sick.” I lied, watching as she got more worried. I was a terrific mother.

“I think you’ve caught the Bonker’s Fever.” I sighed, pretending to look really worried. “What?” Paige demanded, sitting up in bed as she looked at me, patting herself down as if it was a visible illness. “Luckily, your mother knows the cure.” I said, standing up to open her curtains. “Really?” She asked, brightening slightly.

“Yep,” I hummed, pulling open the curtains and letting the light stream into the room. I heard her groan in the sunlight. “A good, big breakfast and a nice day at school.” I smiled. Paige sighed as she slumped back in bed. “There’s no such thing as Bonker’s Fever, is there?” She asked. I tutted at her. “That’s just the fever talking. Up, up, let’s go.” I grinned, trying to rush her out the door.

I folded the new clothing onto the tables as the chime to my shop rang open. I looked up, finding someone I didn’t expect to see. “Mrs Mills,” I said as cheerfully as possible. Henry was at her side, looking a little glum as they trailed into the centre of the shop. I took up a stance at the counter. “How can I help you?”

Regina, the mayor of Storybrooke, looked around the room before smiling. “I need three new school shirts for Henry.” She said, that snobbish smirk on her face. No one really liked Regina. She was a bully, but no one had the guts to do anything. I wasn’t any less different; she was the mayor after all.

“Still the same size?” I asked as I rounded the counter, looking for the school section. The school here in Storybrooke hired me as their official clothes maker. There were other stores in Storybrooke for clothing, but I was the only one who sold uniforms. I did, after all, make them all myself. “Yep,” Henry smiled slightly.

“Where’s Paige?” Regina asked, her eyes lazily looking around the room. “In the back, working on her homework. Henry can go say hello if he wants.” I said, smiling. Henry looked up at his mother, who nodded her head. The young boy smiled before running to the back room, closing the curtain behind him.

“How’s the office?” I asked, planning on making small talk as best as I could. Regina may be a struggle to be around, but that didn’t exclude me from being impolite. “Oh, the same really,” She mumbled, watching me as I searched through the shirts, looking for Henry’s size. “Sounds exciting.” I smiled, finding the correct size.

“What can I say? The town runs like a train.” Regina smiled. I nodded my head, pulling out three shirts. “And how’s business?” Regina asked. I shrugged my shoulders as I led her over to the desk, scanning the shirts into the machine. “The usual. I have this guy buying fabrics from me online.” I mumbled, ignoring the sudden dark look in her eye.

It had been a reoccurring thing as of late. Some guy online had started ordering fabrics from me – which was an option – and then asking just for delivery. He was anonymous and never showed his face or struck up an out-of-business conversation. He just wanted fabrics. “Alright,” I sighed as I placed the shirts into an eco-friendly bag.

“Your total is $45.” I smiled. A scold twisted Regina’s face. “That’s ridiculous. Shirts only cost $10.” She said. I sighed as I leaned against the table. “Not since Mr Gold raised the rent.” I said, honestly. “He raised the rent?” Regina repeated, tilting her head slightly. I nodded, a half grim look on her face.

She shook her head as she pulled out her card. I scanned it into the system before printing out a receipt. “I’ll talk to him.” She promised as I handed her the bag. “Thank you, Mrs Mills.” I smiled thankfully. Regina nodded, before something caught her eye. “What’s that?” She asked, pointing to behind me.

What had caught her eye, was the new display in my shop. It was a tattered old hat inside a glass container on the shelf behind me. I turned to look at it, standing out of the way for her to look at it. “A hat.” I said, looking back at her. “Where did you get it?” She asked, a demanding tone not hard to miss in her voice.

“I found it in my basement last weekend. It looked beautiful, so I put it out on display. I don’t know why I like it so much, and I don’t have the heart to fix it.” I laughed before looking back at the mayor. “How much is it?” She asked, looking at me. My smile lowered slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not for sale. But I can make you one just like it.” I said.

Regina did not strike me as the type of woman that would like that kind of hat. Regina shook her head before calling for her son. I frowned at her as Henry walked out of the back room, a content smile on his face as if he just finished having the best conversation in the world. “Thank you for the shirts,” Regina said with a tight smile before turning.

I didn’t miss her eyes lingering on the hat in the display case.

[rhetoricandlogic]

Henosis

BY

N. K. JEMISIN

Chapter 4

“But they’re going to kill you,” the woman said.

Harkim sighed at her silhouette.

“Of course they are,” he replied.

Chapter 2

The car lurched again. Harkim looked up from his agent’s face on the backseat screen, wondering what on earth was wrong with his driver. “Luketon? Have you been at the scotch again, man?”

There was no answer, but of course he hadn’t pressed the intercom button. He kept forgetting that he had to. “Harkie, what is it?” Janet’s voice, tinny through the screen’s speaker, echoed in the limousine compartment. He knew he should’ve brought the headphones.

“Nothing,” he said, out of habit. Through the one-way privacy screen he could see the silhouette of the driver, just a head and a hat and a hint of shoulder. But was that head shorter than it should’ve been? And was that a lock of hair falling from the hat to curl over one shoulder? Luketon hadn’t had hair since Harkim’s first son—now a father himself—had grown his.

Harkim pressed the button this time. “Is Luketon ill?” he asked. “He seemed fine this afternoon.”

There was silence for a moment. Then the door-locks suddenly went down. A moment later, Janet’s face vanished in a haze of static; the Citywire connection had been shut off.

A woman’s voice returned over the speaker: “Please don’t be alarmed, Mr. Harkim.”

Pressing the button hard enough to make his thumb twinge, Harkim said, “Who the hell are you?” And the silhouette turned its head enough that Harkim could glimpse a night-lit profile. One eye, barely visible.

“You don’t know me,” said the woman. “I’m just a fan.”

Chapter 1

“—your greatest fan,” gushed the girl in front of Harkim, inhaling deeply and bouncing a little on her toes. And though Harkim was too old to fall for such blandishments—or at least, he’d thought he was—he gave the girl an extra-wide smile.

“‘To my greatest fan… ’” he said, writing with an exaggerated flourish, and then politely raised his eyebrows.

“Wanda,” she said.

“‘…Wanda,’” he finished. “‘From a grateful old man.’”

She beamed and leaned forward to pick up the book. The pendant between her breasts—something indistinct preserved in amber—swung forward as she did, which gave Harkim a lovely excuse to feast his eyes. “Thank you so much, Mr. Harkim. If you don’t mind, can I ask just one quick question? Given the chiastic structure of the narrative in Dayton’s Gate, did you intend for Inez to symbolize the impetuousness of youth? I can’t get over how she died.”

Some of Harkim’s pleasure faded, though he resisted the urge to sigh. “My dear,” he said, as gently as he could, “I haven’t a clue what a chiastic structure is. And you’re spoiling the book for those who haven’t read it.” He smiled and nodded toward the line behind the girl. Several of its members were glaring at her.

She went from simpering to sulky at once. “Sorry,” she said. “I thought you might like a little intelligent conversation for a change. Never mind.” She turned and stalked away.

The next woman came up to the desk, holding out an old and tattered first edition of The Mighty Bob, his first published novel. Looking at it, Harkim could not help breaking into a grin.

“Well, well,” he said, taking the book reverently; its cover was loose, and so dog-eared that he marveled it was still legible. “Someone’s loved this book. Where shall I sign?”

“Anywhere,” said the woman. “And there’s no need to address it to me. But please sign it, ‘From the Opus Award Shoe-in.’” Harkim laughed at that, as did several of the people in line who were near enough to hear.

“You want me to jinx myself, do you?” But he grinned and signed the book with that phrase anyway, just because it was such a pleasure to meet a true fan.

As he handed the book back, she brushed his fingers with hers before taking it. “I love you,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said, and gave her a kind smile before beckoning the next person forward.

Chapter 5

The words did not make sense. Janet spoke to him again, and he blinked, recovering enough to focus on her.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. She touched his hand.

Across the banquet hall, tears sheening her face amid sweat, Rasa Abrogado hurried toward the stage through a gauntlet of cheers and standing ovation and stamping feet. She climbed the steps shakily, though they had both done it easily during the awards rehearsal. Harkim remembered joking with her that if either of them won, they would raise the award and say in their speech that the other had been robbed.

Rasa babbled her way through the speech, then hefted the award: a full-sized, blunted replica of Yukio Mishima’s famous tantou, complete with sheath. She thanked the jury and her readers, and then walked off the stage.

Chapter 3

“What is this?” Trembling, Harkim fumbled for the door-latch, even though he knew it was locked. There were such tales in his mind: famous people hunted, stabbed, tortured to death by the fans who claimed to love them.

“A kidnapping,” said the woman, and Harkim’s heart fluttered and clenched within his chest. “For your own good.” He tried the door. Locked. The car was moving at full speed anyhow. What could he do, fling himself out and break every bone in his body? Be run over by the cars behind them?

“That is an impossibility, madam,” he said. It was a small salve to his pride that his voice did not shake. “By definition, a kidnapping takes its victim somewhere he does not wish to be, against his will. How could that be to anyone’s good?”

“I’ve read your books for years,” the woman said, and all at once Harkim placed her voice. His jinx. The Mighty Bob. “I’ve read all of the Opus candidates this year. It’s not right that you’re on the shortlist.”

That? Was she upset over that? “Madam, please. I understand that you may want a different author to win, but I assure you—”

“It isn’t right.” The car lurched a little, as though she’d jerked the wheel. Harkim caught his breath, hopefully not loudly. “It just isn’t right.”

He closed his eyes, trying to think past panic. “There are five shortlisted candidates this year,” he said. Reasonable, yes. He wanted to sound reasonable, calm, reassuring. “An eighty percent chance that someone else will win, yes? So there’s no need for this.”

“A twenty percent chance you’ll win!” Somehow, despite the thin reverberation of the limo’s intercom, he heard the sob in the woman’s voice. “How can you stand it?”

“Well, this isn’t the first award I’ve been nominated for—or lost.” He added the last quickly, lest she think him arrogant. “After all—”

“Do you know what a piece of Vonnegut’s face is worth?” the woman asked.

Harkim flinched. “Nothing,” he said. “His grave is state property, protected—”

“Now.” Amazing, really, how much derision the intercom could convey. “Not before the relic-hunters got to it. His fingers alone went for millions on the black market. And he died naturally.”

“No.” It was probably a bad idea to argue with someone demented enough to kidnap him, but Harkim had never been able to ignore a blatant falsehood. Janet had always warned him not to spend much time with people from Hollywood, because of that. “It wasn’t natural. Natural is going to sleep and never waking up. He fell. Hit his head. Lingered for weeks before he finally kicked off. It was a miserable, slow, ignominious death for such a great man.”

“Compounded,” the woman snapped. “His heirs fought over his estate. His publisher and agent and film rights-holders fought over every scrap of his oeuvre. Pieces, everywhere. Once they found his grave—” Her voice thickened with tears. “That was the least of what they did to him.”

“Great men leave legacies,” Harkim said. He spoke more harshly than he should have, but he was not afraid anymore. Just a child, he realized. She was just a foolish, idealistic child. “That is the nature of greatness, to change all those who follow. It is an artist’s fate, an artist’s duty, to share all that they are and have been with the world.”

“And when you win?” The woman was breathing hard, barely coherent. “When they give you that award, your legacy ends. It means they think you’ve done all you’re going to do, the best you’ll ever do. It means they stop listening.”

She was right, Harkim realized with some surprise. Not wholly a thoughtless child. That made some of his anger fade, replaced by sympathy.

“They always stop listening, eventually,” he said, sitting back on the limousine’s leather seat. “Sooner or later. Now, please.” He closed his eyes, feeling old and tired. “Take me to the ceremony.”

Chapter 6

Afterward, Harkim walked out of the hotel alone. To his very great surprise, the same limousine was there, waiting for him. The driver who stood beside the car was hidden behind dark glasses and beneath a chauffeur’s hat, but the body within the uniform was unmistakably female. Harkim stopped in front of her.

“You’ve gotten your wish,” he said. “I’ll live to see another day. Congratulations.”

“Yes,” she said. The glasses did not wholly screen her, in the intensity of the hotel lights. He could see her eyes searching his face.

He looked away, tired of her worship. Rather than face it, he looked up at the sky, where a few stars—or perhaps satellites—managed to penetrate the city’s light-haze. “They’ll have taken Rasa away by now.”

“So she can be killed.” The woman’s voice shook again. “To be dismembered.”

“Yes.” Harkim slid his hands into his pockets. “They’ll send the pieces to all the usual places: museums, libraries. An ear or two to the University of Iowa’s writing workshop. The obligatory tooth to Columbia, those hacks. Wherever she can inspire the next generation of creators.” He shrugged. “More dignified than what happened to Vonnegut. Not as messy as what Mishima did to himself.”

“Killed!” She didn’t raise her voice, but he felt her vehemence. Her earnestness radiated against him like heat. He closed his eyes, basking in it, since it was all he had.

“Her novel was brilliant,” he said, at last. “She deserves to be remembered like this, honored at the height of herself. Not to die alone and poor and forgotten, as so many of us do.”

A long and fragile silence fell.

“Do you… want me to take you home?” the woman asked.

He shook his head. Going home would reinforce his failure. He’d notified his landlord that the apartment might become available; he’d have to rescind that notice. But he had nowhere else to go. If he went somewhere with other people, he would have to endure their pity and gloating. “I don’t know.”

“What do you want to do, then?”

He laughed a little, running a hand through his sparse hair. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t care. I am open to suggestions.”

After a moment, the woman said, “I have a gun.” She spoke very softly. Surprised, Harkim looked at her. This time, she looked away.

He considered her offer. If it happened this way—the night he lost the Opus, at the hands of a crazed fan— He shook his head. Impossible to say how people would react. What they would remember. Some would value him even more given the strangeness of his death; some would lose interest, thinking he’d hired the woman to do him in, for the glory. He could control only the when and why of his legacy, not whether or for how long.

He was glad for the woman’s kindness, even if she would not think of it as such.

“Drive on, then, my good woman,” Harkim said. When she opened the door, he got in.

[flighty37-blog]

I Propose This

Summary: After 8 years Martyn proposes to Cornelia. A Stag Party, and A Hen Party commence. Let’s see how this goes. Shall we?

Disclaimer: I do not own the people in the story. They own themselves. 

Warning: Some swearing.

Rating: PG-R.

Martyn gazed at Cornelia. She was humming to herself. Shifting the omnichord's buttons, and switches. He was tapping out a solo on the wall with his drumstick, keeping in perfect time with her. Having an impromptu duet. She looked up at him and set aside the instrument.

She blew him a kiss. He caught it with his free hand. She was what he desired most in a person. Talented, clever, beautiful beyond belief, and totally in love with him. She said, once, that she was physically hurting when they were apart. They'd only been apart so little, he could count on his hand how many times. She nearly always dragged him on tour.

But even tours had dwindled, not because she hated them, but because she and Martyn were running the IRL store, and running several online businesses. Busy. Busy. BUSY!!!! Martyn, DJ'd on the side, mostly on the weekends. Or even on Bank Holidays. He shrugged himself off of the wall, and walked over to Cornelia, and she looked up at him.

In turn she admired his height, his crinkly blue eyes, his reddish brown hair, and the gangliness. He also had a superb sense of humour. Humour, he mostly got from his mother, and some from his father. All around a very nice man. And he was hers. All hers. They were tight knit, secretive, nobody knew how they'd met.

She rose from the sofa, and she encircled her arms around his thin waist, and looked up at him. He grinned down at her.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He bent down to kiss her luscious mouth.

"Hmmm you've been a 'very good boy' whilst I've been trying to come up with a new edgy song. But all I can think of, are, sappy love songs. That's not me. I'm not Alanis Morrisette or, or, Taylor Swift!" She laid her head against the lower part of his chest.

He grinned at her, and he scooped her up in his arms. She was bridal style, and he gazed into her robin's egg blue eyes.

"Blue eyes seem to run in the family," Martyn whispered in her ear.

"But Dan's got brown eyes," Cornelia mock argued. "He's full of shit," Martyn grinned.

"He really is, and his poor tattered, dark, soul," She murmured in a mock sad way.

"He cheers up when we're all six together," Martyn reminded her.

"Because Catherine, brings out his wholesome side. She refuses to let his nihilist side get out," Cornelia answered. Catherine was the mother hen.

The overprotective parent. Nigel was the one who made sure that they were all accounted for, and that Catherine had nothing to worry about. He was the one who silently coached on the sidelines. Offering sage advice when he could. Nigel was the silent partner.

"You're quiet like Nigel is sometimes. But most of the time, and especially when you're around Phil, you're loud and boisterous. When you're with me, like now, your quietness prevails," Cornelia noted.

"Because Phil is my little brother. He needs to be teased. Likewise Dan," Martyn said, assuming the big brother persona, whenever Dan and Phil were mentioned; or even in the same room.

Banter was the gamut which was always there, whenever the four were even in the same vicinity. However she and Phil had similar interests. Space for one. Likewise Martyn and Dan loved Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, and even some Facebook. Social media was what they could both agree on.

"You're ignoring me, and my arms are getting tired of being around your neck," Cornelia wiggled out of his grasp and stood next to him.

"Sorry. I was just thinking of our quirky family," Martyn answered.

"Me too," Cornelia nodded.

"You and Dan completed this family. So far," Martyn piped up.

"Oh?" Cornelia raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah...." Martyn scratched the back of his neck.

"I-I've...." His voice trailed off. "I've gotta call Dad!" He sprinted to their room, and he searched for his phone. Which was silly, because his phone was in his jeans pocket. He rang Phil.

"Yeah?" Phil's mouth was full.

"At a time like this you're going to eat cereal?" Martyn admonished.

"Yeah because I'm hungry and Dan's on holiday," Phil responded.

"So you're eating Dan's cereal out of obligation that since he's on holiday someone's got to eat his cereal; and since you're the only one in the flat it's got to be you?" Martyn questioned.

"Ummm yeah," Phil mumbled.

"Oh," Martyn said.

"What'd you call me for? Yuri On Ice is on, and I want to see this episode. It's been a story arc. I want to see how it ends. Yuri and Victor kissed, and then they were in front of a roaring fire in some snowed in cabin....Then...Poof! Cliffhanger," Phil said, flinging in some Americanisms into his announcement.

"Uh-huh....Anyway....Phil?" Martyn hedged.

That caught Phil's attention. Out of the two of them, Martyn was the most boisterous, out going, one. He'd been on the football team. He'd been very athletic. "PhilIWantToMarryCornelia!" Martyn said in one breath.

Phil choked on his cereal, "You want to what?!" Phil coughed and then he breathed in and out a little, using his 'Nose-ga'. "Run that by me one more time? Except slower and more breaths," Phil urged, putting aside his food.

"I. Want. To. Marry....Cornelia!" Martyn managed.

"You're practically married to her anyway," Phil said.

"Well yeah, but....I want to make it official. On paper. The old fashioned way. Her the bride, me the groom. Nothing formal. Just. Us. And you. And Mum and Dad. And Dan. And...." Martyn paused for a breath.

"Are you serious?" Phil asked.

"Eight years worth," Martyn affirmed.  

"Have you mentioned this to Mum and Dad yet? Mum's ready to plan  a wedding," Phil said.

"I know she is. But, we're not traditional people Phil. We're....Wayward," Martyn answered, doubt creeping into his voice.

"Marty....Mart....I think it's a great idea. As your brother I say 'hell yeah'," Phil congratulated. Martyn smiled a little and answered,

"Thanks Bro." "Well I'm always cheering you on, the same as you're cheering me on... All the time," Phil replied.

"I'll call Dad. He's usually calm. Maybe he'll break the news to Mum?" Martyn mused.

"Mum'll tell everyone! She can't lie to Cornelia. She can't lie at all!" Phil sounded mortified.

"It's not lying if you keep it a secret Phil," Martyn's voice was stern.

"My lips are zipped," Phil promised.

"If you Skype Dan, I will kill your houseplants," Martyn threatened.

"They don't need anymore help dying! I kill them without help," Phil protested.

"Fine, I'm stealing the guinea pig, Lion, and Dan's teddy bear he's had since birth," Martyn threatened.

"Uhhh no! Not, 'The Bear'!" Phil was mortified.

"I will too! I will hold them all hostage and I will not let them go," Martyn hissed.

"You're so mean!" Phil gasped out.

"I am the older brother, my threats are for real," Martyn answered.

"Absolutely! So I won't tell, and Dan won't know, unless you tell him; but don't worry," Phil promised again.

"Who's worried?" Martyn tried to be stoic.

"Not you. You're definitely not worried, I can tell," Phil acknowledged.

"I'm that good," Martyn answered.

"You really are; I'm gonna get back to my anime, you call Dad. Text me the good news. And get her a good ring. A ring she'll be proud of," Phil advised.

"What about...." Martyn paused, and shook his head.

"Something that reflects her personality. Her favourite colour....Her birthstone maybe?" Phil suggested.

"Right. Right...." Martyn wrote down the suggestions on a lonely scrap of paper.

"I'm gonna hang up now...." Phil let the sentence trail off.

"Yeah...Umm...Yeah you do that. I'm gonna; what am I doing?" Martyn asked.

"Ringing Dad," Phil reminded him. It was weird that Phil was being the calming brother now. It felt strange that the roles were reversed.

"Alright then. I'll get right on it," Martyn answered and hung up the phone.

"Rude," Phil said into the dial tone. He hung up as well and turned up the television's volume. Martyn rang his dad.

"Hello?" Nigel sounded surprised.

"Hi Dad," Martyn was quieter than normal.

"Martyn? Is something wrong? Are you ill; Is it Cornelia? Do you need your mother? She's in town doing the shopping at the moment, but I could ring her," Nigel was suddenly on the alert.

Usually it was Dan or Phil that needed Catherine's extra attention.

"No, Dad, I'm not ill. How did you propose to Mum?" Martyn wondered.

"That's an odd question; you've never been interested before...." Nigel's voice trailed off.

"Was it romantic? Spur of the moment? Did you hang from a tree and hand her a ring box?" Martyn's questions rushed forth.

He grinned to himself.

"Again, knowing our family to be an odd sort, though traditional, I took her out," Nigel started.

"Where did you take her?" Martyn was curious now.

"Where did I take her? I believe I took her to an amusement park. But I forget exactly where. It was such a long time ago. We had been 'dating', as you young people say, for about three years. I knew I wanted her in my life forever. You, you my boy, have outdone me. Eight years...." Nigel marveled.

"It's easy if it's with the right person. Yeah?" Martyn asked.

"It's not 'easy' per se'. You just learn, and adjust. You learn and you grow," Nigel sagely advised.

"I was thinking of getting her an amethyst ring...." Martyn paused again.

"Her birthstone? Good start. But make it as 'Cornelia like' as possible," Nigel answered.

"I will; probably a ring that looks like a piece of coral or summat like that," Martyn's Northern was peeking out. Same as Phil's did, when they talked to either of their parents.

"I commend you," Nigel answered. A compliment. His father had given him a compliment. He grinned.

Just then Cornelia called from the next room, "Martyn? Where are you?!"

"I have to go! Thanks for the advice and lending me an ear," Martyn smiled a little.

"Anytime. When do I get to tell your mother?" Nigel asked.

"When the deed's finished," Martyn answered.

"Alright let me know," Nigel said. "I will," Martyn assured his father.

"Good luck Son!" Nigel said.

"Thanks again Dad," Martyn answered.

They said their goodbyes and Martyn went on the internet. He scrolled through images of amethyst rings, and found just the one. He ordered it, and then he went to see his gorgeous woman. When he appeared, her face was wreathed in smiles.

"There's this concert...." Her voice trailed off.

"When?" Martyn asked. It might not be an amusement park, but when it came to the Lester family, being spontaneous was always a given.

"Next week?" Cornelia said, she looked quizzically at him, and snapped her fingers under his nose.

"Huh? Yeah? What?" Martyn asked.

"Are you okay? Are you over worked? Do you need a holiday?" Cornelia was worried.

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm fine. Really. I'm fine...." Martyn's voice trailed off.

"Okay then," Cornelia hugged him just to make sure.

"So a concert?" Martyn asked, bringing the subject back up.

"Right. Yes. The concert...." Cornelia showed him when and where it was at.

The following week. Perfect, that's when the ring would arrive. He nodded.

Then he spoke, "We can go. We'll have to clear our schedules. But I wouldn't mind getting out of London for a bit. Bristol is perfect," Martyn acknowledged.

It was a local band, which he didn't mind because he supported small bands.

"Great....Be ready to dance hard," Cornelia smirked at him.

"Oh I'll be the readiest!" Martyn answered and hugged her tightly to him.

She grinned and crooked a finger at him. "Hey Martyn? Want to play a game?"

She grabbed his shirt collar and led him to their room. As if he were wearing a collar and lead.

"I'm for it," Martyn answered.

"Good," Cornelia whispered to him, sending shivers up and down his spine. As if he were in ASMR.

The next week:

They were both dressed head to toe in black. Ripped jeans, semi ripped shirts, and Martyn was wearing a black hat for the occasion.

"You look like a rock star," Cornelia approved.

Martyn grinned at her, "But you'll be the sexiest one there."

She slapped his arm in a playful gesture. He made sure the object he was carrying was safe in the bag he had on his shoulders.

"Let's go!" Martyn made a show of looking for and finding his phone, and they drove to Bristol.

"It's not my birthday, we're not promoting anything, I feel like a naughty school girl skipping class," Cornelia was very giddy.

It had been a very long time since they'd just done something with only the two of them. In a little over two hours they'd be there. They arrived at an abandoned steel mill. There were fireworks going on. A basic rave. The DJ in him wanted to find the music and spin. But he refrained. He had a more important task ahead.

He didn't know when he would propose, but he knew that the time would be right, whatever happened. They entered amongst a writhing sea of humanity. Slipping in, and keeping a hold on Cornelia, to make sure nobody got lost in the crowd. The music was blaring and the band looked typical.

Black everything. Black seemed to be the (non) colour of choice tonight. Oh well.

"Let's Dance!" Cornelia had to shout above the music and the crowd's voices intermingling with each other.

They found the mosh pit, and started to vigorously shake their bodies. Keeping close together, but enjoying the raucous sounds. Martyn didn't think it could get any better. He had the love of his life right there, and he had the ring. And then the opportunity presented itself.

The band went into a semi-slow song, and he took her in his arms. Wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her closer to him, he led her to an empty seat, and sat her down. He took out the box, and he got down on one knee. Her eyes started glistening and she nodded.

He asked, "Will you do me the honour of making it official?"

He opened the box and she gasped.

"It looks like a piece of coral," she whispered.

"And look at the setting...." He urged.

"Amethyst. My birthstone," she answered.

"I know," he replied and kissed her temple.

Then he put her in his arms, and sat down in the chair. She was now sitting on his lap wearing the ring.

"It's gorgeous, and it fits just right....But we don't have to get married right away. Do we?" Cornelia asked.

"No, but I wanted to be 'official'. You know?" Martyn spoke up.

"Of course. You do know why I don't want a grand wedding?" She questioned.

"You're asking me now?" Martyn furrowed his brows, as the tempo in the music rose slightly again.

"Yes. I told you when we got together," Cornelia answered.

"It was when you were seventeen and Roger asked you to marry him. You said yes right from the start, and then when all the preparations had happened, and the day was there, he got together with the drummer and left on your honeymoon ticket," Martyn answered.

"Very good," Cornelia said.

"I remember. I listen," Martyn answered and kissed the side of her lips. She obediently turned and they kissed lips to lips.

 "You're my favourite," He whispered.

"And you're my favourite too," she smiled at him.

"Let's dance some more," She stood and pulled him back into the pit. The ring flashing from her finger.

Three weeks later:

"When?!" Catherine's excited voice made Cornelia pull the phone from her ear.

"I don't know. We haven't set a date," Cornelia answered.

"Not set a date?!" Catherine seemed puzzled and excited at the same time.

"Well no, we've waited this long. We can wait another few months," Cornelia hesitantly answered.

"Does your mother know? I have to talk to her," Catherine rambled on.

"Moder knows," Cornelia quietly affirmed.

"Before me?" Catherine asked.

"A bit before," Cornelia said, it had in fact, been the conversation before Catherine.

Another conversation happening in the other side of the flat:

It was a three way conversation. Skype with Dan and Phil, and Facetime with Nigel. "The proposal was magical!” Martyn enthused, he was practically glowing.

"SPILL!" Dan urged.

"We want all the details," Phil put in.

"At your own pace of course," Nigel quietly said.

"Pics! Pics! PICS!" Dan and Phil chanted.

"Of course I took pics," Martyn rolled his eyes.

"I should hope the moment was well documented," Nigel poshly put in.

"Daaaddd!" Phil groaned.

"You're so old fashioned, nobody says 'well documented' anymore," Dan said.

"I do!" Nigel brusquely answered.

"Well you're old," Phil said.

"Hey!" Nigel groused, but he grinned a little, and Martyn held up the phone so that the two on Skype could see that Nigel was having a big laugh.

"Anyway...." Martyn forwarded the pics to everyone.

"Who took them? And the video?" Phil mused.

"There's a video?!" Martyn yelped.

"Uh-huh," Phil said.

"She looks great in black. I'm telling you, black is where it's at," Dan said in an approving voice.

"That's my fiancee' you're mooning over, you prat!" Martyn reprimanded.

"She's my sister, and I have to approve the outfits," Dan argued.

"You're not a fashion consultant," Martyn good naturedly argued back.

"I could be," Dan said.

"Oooohhhh Next Channel! Dan Howell, Fashion Guru!" Phil clapped his hands and smiled broadly.

"Yeeeaaahhhh...." Dan nodded.

Martyn rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, "Focus! Me! Not you two dorks!"

"Right. Ahem. Sorry...." Both said at the same time. Near perfect synchronicity. He shook his head. "So we haven't decided on a date, or a venue yet. But we're getting there," Martyn said.

Cornelia's part of the flat:

"Oh my god! The ring is gorgeous. It looks like he went to the seaside and he picked up a piece of amethyst and coral, and made a ring," Catherine gushed at the recent pic that Cornelia had forwarded to her.

"I know!" Cornelia squealed, in almost typical girly fashion.

"I need some more pictures," Catherine bemoaned.

"You're in luck. Martyn and I got a lot of pictures of ourselves right after I'd said yes. And Yes, I am showing off the ring for all to see," Cornelia forwarded the pics to Catherine's phone, and ultimately the video. 

"A video?" Catherine asked.

"A short one. Apparently someone caught the moment when he proposed. It couldn't have gone better. What with the metal band, and the mosh pit, I couldn't have asked for a better proposal," Cornelia said.

"I couldn't be happier," Catherine said.

"You will when we figure out the date for the event, and the venue," Cornelia said.

"I won't push. I'm not some stage mother that wants everything for her children, so she can live vicariously through them," Catherine said.

"Precisely why I love you!" Cornelia gushed some more.

"Are you having a hen party?" Catherine asked.

"That is a definite yes," Cornelia acquiesced.

"And I reckon the boys are going for a stag party?" Catherine mused.

"Most likely, but seeing as we don't normally drink, I don't think there will be much alcohol," Cornelia assured her practically mother in law. Almost official mother in law, she supposed.

The lads conversation:

"Stag party?" Dan asked.

"I'm not drinking," Phil protested.

"It could be a half non-alcoholic party," Dan suggested.

"Hmmm....Good idea," Phil nodded.

"I have great ideas. You just like to ignore me," Dan argued good naturedly.

"Hello!" Martyn interrupted.

"Oh yeah it's Martyn's stag party. Me and Phil are gonna have a joint stag party. Our significant others will just have to deal with it," Dan said.

"Yeah we decided that we wanna party together. I mean we've done everything else together. Why not a stag party? It's still gonna be non-alcoholic," Phil answered.

"Partly non-alcoholic," Dan chimed in.

"Of course. Someone's gotta be sober enough to get you home before the big event," Phil added.

"AHEM!!" Nigel and Martyn interrupted again.

"Right....Youuuu...." Dan dragged out the word you, and pretended to look like he was listening. Phil was sat at full attention in his computer chair.

"Yeah me, and if we're going to do a 'stag party', it's gonna be done my way. I'm going to DJ it, and we will have games and a band...." Martyn outlined.

"Drinks?" Dan said.

"You're such an alcoholic," Phil interrupted.

"I like a good drink," Dan retorted.

"FOCUS!" Nigel yelped out.

"Woah!" Dan jumped a little.

"Ha! My dad jump scared you," Phil smiled a little.

"My heart is beating like a thousand butterflies are trapped inside me," Dan answered.

"Gosh that was poetic," Phil said.

"Oh my god! You guys!" Martyn snapped his fingers with both hands.

"Right, focus, you," Dan said, and nudged Phil.

"We're fully attentive to your needs Mart," Phil tried to sound sophisticated.

Martyn rolled his eyes.

"Like I was saying, I want to DJ it, I want to pick the music, and I want there to be snacks. Loads of snacks. No strippers, no cocaine, just us, lads, having a great time. And Dad too!" Martyn interjected.

"Me? I'll just hold you down. I'm too old," Nigel interrupted.

"Dad, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't exist. And if I didn't exist, you wouldn't have Cornelia. Now does that seem right to you?" Martyn answered, and Nigel grinned widely.

"And if I didn't exist, Phil probably wouldn't exist either," Martyn continued.

"That's such a sad thought," Phil opined.

"That's deep and scary," Dan chimed in.

"Are you going to have an existential crisis?" Phil worriedly asked.

"No, I'm tough," Dan stoutly answered.

"No tangents. We're planning," Martyn said.

"The way you two act, you're lucky you're even getting invites," Martyn jokingly admonished.

"That's so harsh," Phil said.

"You're so mean Martyn," Dan responded

"Now Martyn...." Nigel chided softly.

"Alright, alright, you can be the bouncers, since Phil's like Thor," Martyn answered, but winked to show he was joking.

"YES! My life's ambition besides being a weatherman, Thor!" Phil flexed.

"Don't encourage him. I have to live with him. He's a right terror," Dan sighed heavily.

"I am Thor," Phil said.

"Right, yeah, you're Thor; good for you," Dan said.

"YAY!" Phil clapped his hands. Dan put a hand over his face. Martyn outlined what all he wanted at the party.

Cornelia, Catherine, Susan, and Ebba (Cornelia's mother):

"Moder, Mum, Susan...." Cornelia trilled.

"Halla', Halla' min dotter (hello, hello, my daughter)," Ebba said.

"Hello my darling, I know you're not dating my son, but since Phil's practically family so are you by association," Susan Howell said.

"Hello again Nikki," Catherine trilled.

"I love that I can do this four ways, everyone can see each other and, at least, hear each other," Cornelia was so excited.

All the important females in her life.

"I'm Here!" A fifth person was added the chat.

"Louise!" Cornelia said.

"And Catrific here," Cat chimed in. She was visiting Louise and they were collaborating.

"I hear congratulations are in order...soooo CONGRATULATIONS!!!!" Louise and Cat said in sync.

"Thank you, thank you," Cornelia flashed the ring.

"Oh my gosh!!!!" Cat said, and put her hands over her mouth.

"That's utterly, ridiculously gorgeous!" Louise put in.

"I agree. Your fiance has great tastes, I only hope my Daniel will have great taste when it comes time for him to pick out a ring," Susan said.

"Is he dating yet?" Catherine asked.

"Not yet, but when he does and when, if they're together long enough and after he worries about asking them to marry him, then," Susan paused.

"I want to help!" Catherine said.

"Oh don't worry, I will need your help. After I've fainted of course," Susan assured her.

"I'll bring the smelling salts," Catherine assured her.

"I can't wait," Susan answered wryly.

"Ummm....?" Cornelia put in.

"Oh, sorry," Catherine waved, as Susan gave her, her full attention.

"Right, so I was thinking for a hen party, instead of the traditional going out, we have a bit like a baby shower, but it'll be a 'wedding shower'," Cornelia outlined.

"Wonderful idea," Catherine said.

"That's a unique idea," Louise said.

"I like it. Gifts?" Cat asked.

"Some gifts, some drinks, snacks, music, I can play some of my original stuff," Cornelia said.

"Karaoke?" Susan asked. "But of course," Cornelia nodded.

"Sounds divine," Louise said.

"I'll fly back just for the occasion," Cat promised.

"I want everyone I'm close to, to be here," Cornelia said.

"I'm baking," Catherine said.

"I'll cook a roast or something," Susan volunteered.

"I'll have it on a Sunday for it to properly be a roast day. But not a big roast. Make something vegetarian," Cornelia said.

"It'll smell like a roast, but it won't be a roast. I know what your preferences are. Catherine's told me," Susan interjected.

"Of course she has," Cornelia nodded.

"I had to, she wanted to know what you ate, and how you stayed so slim and trim," Catherine said.

"I fully support your decision," Ebba added.

"You raised me vegetarian Mama," Cornelia smiled.

"Well anyway...." Catherine said.

"Right....I'll e-mail everyone the time and day, the place will be here," Cornelia said. "Right," All five women answered.

Martyn's conversation:

"So the place will probably be somewhere private," Martyn said.

"Have it at our place," Dan volunteered.

"Wh-What?!" Phil squeaked out.

"C'mon Philly, you'll know all the guests, and it's a controlled environment, we won't have to go outside," Dan suggested.

"I'm liking it, I'm warming up to this idea," Phil agreed.

"Sounds good to me," Martyn said.

"Me too," Nigel offered.

"Great, I'll just e-mail everyone a date and time," Martyn answered.

"Great," they said, and Martyn's call ended.

Convening together in the lounge:

"So about my stag party," Martyn began.

"Yes?" Cornelia was all ears.

"We're going to have it at Dan and Phil's," Martyn said.

"Definitely a safe environment," Cornelia agreed.

"Are you having a 'hen party'?" Martyn asked.

"But of course, and we've all decided, Louise, Cat, Moder, Catherine, Susan, to have it here," Cornelia answered.

"Approved," Martyn said.

"So we don't have to worry about the other being somewhere strange, and no strange girls throwing themselves at you," Cornelia said.

"No strange guys asking to buy you drinks, or look at you with lustful eyes," Martyn said, and sighed with relief.

"I'm not interested in them. I'm interested in you," Cornelia answered.

"Same here. I'm not interested in other women. I love you, and you alone," Martyn intoned.

"This is why I love you, this is why I've spent eight years with you. You are a one of a kind man. You've been brought up well," Cornelia said.

"Thank my parents," Martyn said.

"I thank them every single day I'm with you," Cornelia answered.

"I love you!" Martyn answered, and the two kissed.

Stag Party, some night:

As instructed, Martyn was the DJ and he was rolling out all the hits. He shook his head, that was too old of a saying. Plus it sounded American in his head.

"And here's another one," Martyn announced.

In the corner of the room, Dan and Phil were chatting to each other, like usual; even in their own flat they were antisocial. He smiled to himself and shook his head. Nigel was chatting up PJ and, even Chris had come from 'Oop Norf'.

It had been a long time since they'd come 'round. PJ eventually wandered over to Dan and Phil's little boundary of isolation and stood exactly five feet, and back a little, to better talk to them. There was alcoholic, and nonalcoholic drinks abounding.

"PJ!" Chris bounded over  him.

"Yeah?" PJ looked over at Chris.

"This party is....Jumping!" Chris said.

"You've had too much to drink," PJ gently took the glass from his friend.

Dan and Phil started laughing good naturedly.

"Of course it's jumping, Martyn's  officially getting married," Phil responded.

"After eight long years, she finally got a ring," Dan opined.

"It's a hell of a ring. It looks like something the seaside washed up," Phil said.

"You said 'hell'," Chris pretended to be shocked.

"He says 'hell' a lot," PJ reminded him.

"Right, shit, fuck, and damn are off limit words," Dan answered.

"Those are words you use, they're your brand," Phil retorted.

As the four chatted, Martyn found Nigel. He looked out of place, but he was still having fun, as he meandered through the flat and bypassing the few young people that were there.

"Are you okay Dad? Do you want me to ring Mum? Maybe it'll be better over at our flat. You'll know everyone there. And Mum misses you, I reckon," Martyn offered.

"I'm fine. I'm enjoying the music. Not my preference mind you, but I'm enjoying this very much," Nigel assured his eldest.

"Leave the party to the women, while we 'stag it up'?" Martyn guessed rightly. "

Absolutely, I'm not a hen, yet, Son," Nigel retorted, and he started swaying a bit to the music that was blaring from the stereo now.

"Dad, you're one of a kind. I'm glad Mum ended up with you," Martyn clapped his father's shoulder.

"Thank you?" Nigel smiled.

The 'Hen Party':

"The music is so nice," Cat said.

"I like it, it makes me think of when I was pregnant with Iona," Louise answered.

"She's already what? Three months? Four?" Cornelia had sidled up next to Cat and Louise.

"My word no, she's nearly six months old....Poor Liam. He's all 'My baby isn't a baby anymore'. I have to keep telling him that he hasn't experienced life with a daughter until she's at least ten-fourteen. Then she'll really not be a baby anymore. He still needs to master nappy changing," Louise laughed.

The others laughed with her.

"He wants a boy, I know he does. He won't say so outright, but he wants a little boy. Sometimes traditions still crop up their ugly heads," Louise sighed.

The conversation turned to traditions, and labels and everything that shouldn't be allowed. The gifts were as expected, a blender, a toaster, a tablet. "Oh Damn, this is some nice stuff," Cornelia kept her language under control for the most part. Susan and Catherine just smiled, and handed over their gifts.

"It's not much, and I know that paper is becoming obsolete, but I always enjoyed the stationery set I got for my hen party," Susan offered.

"Susan, you're a sweetheart, it's gold embossed, I love the pen! I'll find a use for it. Perhaps it'll be my golden muse and I'll write songs on it?" Cornelia gave Susan a wink.

Susan pinked up, she and Dan were easily embarrassed. She gave Susan a hug.

"I only brought a kettle. You'll need a nice one when you've married," Catherine smiled at her.

"Thank you," Cornelia added it to the pile.

"Who got me the negligee? Was it you Louise?" Cornelia laughed, as Louise vehemently shook her head, and pointed at Cat. Cornelia raised an eyebrow.

At The Stag Party as it started to wind down:

"The Food Is To Die For!" Dan said, as he went for his fourth plate of sides, he had his 'food orgasm' face on.

"Leave some for the rest of the people," Martyn said, as he stood beside Dan filling up his own plate.

"What people? Oh you mean Phil? Well it's payback being a bitch, because he eats my cereal. Every day," Dan answered and nodded furiously.

"Okay, okay, stop nodding; your head'll fall off," Martyn said.

"Anyway," Dan topped off his drink and went back to the corner, by the buffet table. Phil appeared next to his brother.

"Should've known, whenever a wild Dan appears, so doth a wild Phil," Martyn grinned at his younger brother.

"Guilty. I needed a refresher. This food is Delicious!" Phil exclaimed.

"Funny your almost clone said nearly the exact same thing," Martyn replied.

"For real?" Phil asked, as if he should still be surprised.

"Yep. Except he said, and this is a direct quote; 'the food is to die for'," Martyn mimicked Dan's posh accent.

"He would mention death whilst eating his fill," Phil shook his head and also topped off his Shirley Temple fruit drink.

"He's Dan; if he doesn't mention death at least once, I know something's horrifically wrong," Martyn joked.

"That and his 'dark and dreadful soul," Phil added.

"That too," Martyn clapped Phil's shoulder, nearly making him collide into the table. He ultimately stubbed a toe.

"Ow!" Phil winced.

"Hey watch it there....You okay? I didn't mean to," Martyn apologised.

"It's okay. I'm a klutz remember?" Phil laughed a little.

"So's Dan," Martyn nodded.

"Well we're two peas," Phil affirmed.

"That you are. You could almost be twins," his older brother joked.

Phil gave him a mock frown and walked away to sit beside his best friend.

"After you...." Martyn mused and his thoughts went back to his beautiful fiancee'. How was she faring without him? Sure they weren't that codependent on each other. Not like the two youngests.

He smirked and pulled out his phone and rang her. "Hello, Cornelia's hen party," a slightly less posh girlish voice sounded. Definitely not Cornelia.

"Is Cornelia there?" Martyn asked.

"Who wants to know?" the girl asked, she was giggling a bit now.

"Louise, my mobile if you please!" Cornelia's voice drifted over.

"It's me, Martyn," he finally replied.

Just then Cornelia came on the line, "Martyn is everything okay? Are you okay? Are you drunk? How drunk is everyone else?" Cornelia's questions were rapid fire, as Martyn looked about the room.

Chris and PJ were a bit tipsy. Tipsy enough, that they were sharing a drink with two straws.

"I'm not tipsy at all," Martyn said.

"Not even a bit?" Cornelia questioned.

"A bit, Phil's on his sixth Shirley Temple with lots of fruit mixed into it," Martyn answered.

"My Fourth!" Phil yelled out, as Dan covered his face in his hand and shook his head.

"His fourth," Martyn was smiling a little bit more.

"Well, in that case, we're mostly going non-alcoholic. Sophie brought some champagne," Cornelia admitted.

"Good ol' Soph, she and PJ will be tying the knot any time soon," Martyn spoke up.

"Don't you jinx anything Lester," Cornelia quipped.

"I won't....When's the hen thing going to be over? I just want to cuddle with you, and play with your curls," Martyn sighed.

"In another couple of hours. Can you hang on for a little while longer?" Cornelia asked.

"Yes, but I'm going to shut everything down in exactly two hours," Martyn petulantly answered.

"Fine by me, I can't wait to have you all to myself," Cornelia almost cooed in his ear.

They said goodbye and their 'I Love You's. Then Martyn had to be a host again.

"Oooo what'd Cornelia say?" Phil spoke up.

"She said 'mind your own business Phil Lester'," Martyn affected a high 'girl' voice.

"No she didn't," Phil bickered back.

"You didn't talk to her, did you?" Martyn said, and reached out to ruffle Phil's hair.

"Stop it!" Phil grunted.

"Stop it," Martyn mocked 'big brother style'.

"I hate you," Phil pouted, the lower lip coming out full force.

"You deserved it for getting into Martyn's personal business," Dan piped up.

"Thank you Dan," Martyn walked away.

Nigel sidled up to him, putting his mobile into his back pocket.

"What'd Mum say?" Martyn whispered to his father.

"She misses me, and she loves me. How are her babies? Are they drunk? They'd better not be too drunk. How's Martyn holding up? Has the Stag gotten out of hand? You know stuff like that," Nigel shook his head, but he was smiling widely.

"I'm giving this shindig a couple more hours, then I'm going back to my woman," Martyn nodded.

"Same here. I miss the hell out of your mother," Nigel clapped his son on the back, and wandered over to where Dan and Phil were seated, whispering in each other's ears.

"Two hours and it's all gonna be shut down," Martyn whispered amongst their whispers.

"Finally! I need some anime me time," Dan said.

"I need the internet," Phil answered.

"Switch answers, I need internet, he needs anime," Dan said.

"Stop stealing my wants," Phil groused.

"What?!" Dan gave him a confused look.

"Nothing," Phil mumbled as Martyn walked away.

Exactly two hours later....

"MARTY!!!!" She sprang into his already opened arms, and cuddled against him, somewhat like a cat.

She was practically vibrating and purring. They did an Eskimo kiss with their noses.

"Female friends are alright, but having you all to myself again...." She mumbled against him, nibbling his earlobe.

"Nelia!" He whispered against her, and kissed her cheek. She turned glowing eyes on him, and she kissed him fully on the lips.

"The party was fun," she adjusted herself, so that her legs were wrapped around his torso. "But then again, you're a lot more fun," She nuzzled him again, breathing in his sweaty, yet aromatic scent.

"You smell divine," She chattered.

"That's where you and I differ," Martyn rubbed a finger against her cheek, and she closed her eyes and let the sensations sweep over her, she sighed in contentment.

"You're a lot more fun than I'll ever be," Martyn whispered so, and sent shivers up and down her spine.

"You're more than a dream...." She murmured, lying her head on his heart. Wishing for him to never leave her. She studied the ring on her finger.

"Why was I so afraid of marriage? And why am I nervous wreck now?" Cornelia wondered aloud.

"Because of Roger and the drummer....Who apparently was pretty hot," Martyn grinned down at her, their noses touched, their eyes locked. They were the only two people in the whole world. Nobody else mattered.

"The drummer had no gender," Cornelia whispered.

“Hmmm...." Martyn seemed to consider things.

"Let's go to bed, I'm suddenly very tired, I ate my fill and I interacted with people that weren't our brothers," Cornelia yawned for effect.  

"Was Mum too overbearing? How was your whole day? Really," Martyn took them both to the bedroom, and set Cornelia on solid ground.

She quickly changed into some pyjamas. Red ones to match her hair.

"Everyone was lovely, Susan and Catherine were planning Dan's wedding....Should he ever get a significant other," Cornelia smiled.

"And ditch my baby brother?! The nerve!" Martyn pretended to be scandalised.

"They'd Skype each other every day!" Cornelia answered.

"They live in the same flat and text each other without bothering to yell at each other across the flat, like we do," Martyn said.

"Well that's because they're younger and they have this whole technology thing worked out," Cornelia nodded, and pursed her lips for Martyn to kiss. Which he obliged, and they crawled into bed together.

They were both lying on their sides, gazing into each others' eyes, telling each other about their day, without saying a word, both sighing in contentment. Both feeling the love they felt. It intensified every time they were apart, and then came back together like two polarised magnets.

"When we swing back into orbit, we circle each other, and we spin in each other's paths, forever on a pathway through the galaxy of life," Cornelia softly sang.

"Is this something you're thinking of expanding on?" Martyn asked, as Cornelia nodded.

"Our wedding song," Cornelia sniffed and soon her nose, and cheeks became rosy, and she felt the tears falling.

He swiped them away with his thumb, and he kissed every drop away. "Don't cry Nelia. Please don't cry," Martyn said, as his own chest hitched.

"But these are happy tears my love," Cornelia assured him.

"Sing me to sleep?" Martyn closed his eyes.

"I don't want to circle you, I want to embrace you. I want to crash into you like a wrecking ball. Shattering anything that impedes our love. Our insecurities should fade away, and we should just let the love we have encompass ourselves, let the peace flow through us," Cornelia sang once more.

Martyn hummed a tune, and she smiled. They were as perfectly, if not more in sync when they were tired. The more tired they were, the more their spirits seemed to shine through, and by every other definition their love was more visible.

She loved him. Every part of him. She couldn't wait to be with him every morning, every evening and every hour in between. He was the love of her life. No two could be more perfectly suited for each other.

"How deep my love for you runs, like asteroids scattered through the myriad of space, though we veer off course, we'll always find ourselves together, in the same place, abiding in each other's path...." Cornelia tried another verse.

"When I'm with you, I feel freer than the birds at the seaside," Martyn said.

"Good one!" Cornelia hastily wrote it down.

"When I'm down, when I'm out, you pull me through," Martyn said again.

"Your ear for lyrics is astounding," she smiled, and he cracked an eye open.

"I've fine tuned my ear, being with you," Martyn kissed the tip of her nose. She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I love you completely; with or without a ring, I don't care," Martyn said to her.

"But the ring is a wonderful touch. It's got our personalities mixed in.... I like how it looks like a piece of coral, with a shining purple rock on top. It's like a beacon," Cornelia smiled at him.

"A beacon to guide me home," Martyn half-asked.

"But of course," Cornelia said.

"With your spirit shining through it," Martyn ventured.

"Forever and always," Cornelia smiled at him, as the tiredness settled in and they both started to drift off to sleep.

He cuddled her close, against his wiry frame, holding onto her. Not wanting to let her go. He kissed her head, and he smelled her natural deodorant. She never smelled bad. Not even when she had a workout.

She was always smelling so good to him. Like now.

As the amphetamines rushed towards him. The love nerves. He inhaled her neck. She was his. She had been his for eight years. She would always be his.

And no matter when they married, if they even set a date, Cornelia would have that ring as a devoted sign that he, Martyn Nigel Lester was in love with the beautiful, talented world renowned singer, Cornelia Dahlgren. Forever! For Always.... He sighed in contentment and fell asleep beside her.

Almost exactly a year later....

"I'm so excited! I get to be the ring bearer and the best man, and you're the second best man! EEEEEEEE!!!!" Phil was very nearly bouncing all over the room, Dan was holding onto the sleeve of his suit.

"Phil for the thousandth time; you are not the bloody ring bearer. Your cousin twice removed, also called 'Phill', but with two L's instead of one; is the ring bearer. He's the tiny ginger child who tripped over his own shoes, and then pelted you with the pillow during rehearsal," Dan rolled his eyes.

"That was an accident, the pillow went flying after he tripped and then got sick on the ground," Phil remembered.

"But he still was a shoo-in for the ring bearer," Dan said.

"Only because he's the only boy," Phil retorted.

"Little Marta looked so smart in the suit," Dan sighed.

"But gender roles, and mothers," Phil shook his head.

"Tradition," Dan lamented.

"I hate tradition!" Martyn exclaimed.

"We're swapping....MARTA!!!!" Martyn yelped.

Marta, little blonde girl, hair in ringlets, skidded into the room with a poofy white flower girl dress. Martyn took the flower basket from her, and handed her the ring pillow.

"You're now the ring bearer," Martyn said, and then he shoved the basket of petals into Phill's hands.

"You! You are the flower child, Phillip Sandover-Lester!" Martyn announced, his arms  open wide as he made the announcement. Little Phill's eyes lit up.

"You're a saint among demons," Dan said.

"You used a religious analogy!" Phil was gobsmacked.

"Damn right I did," Dan said, after covering little Phillip's ears, and Phil had covered little Marta's ears as well.

"Now I can get married!" Martyn continued.

"Let the Hunger Games commence," Dan drolly said.

"I volunteer as tribute," A slight Swedish accent said.

"Do you now my little Swedish meatball?" Martyn turned to the voice, though she wouldn't come out of hiding.

"I most certainly will," Cornelia let out a melodic laugh and then she was gone.

"I'm the Peeta to your Katniss!" Martyn called out, and the laugh, though far away still floated to their ears.

"She certainly knows how to brighten up the day. Doesn't she?" Martyn sighed happily.

"Yeah she does Mart," Dan said, as he let go of Phil's sleeve.

"I'm proud of you," Phil said.

"Thanks," Martyn wiped at one of his eyes.

"Marty! Don't start, I'm a sympathy crier. If you cry, I'll cry. If I cry, Dan will cry, and if Dan cries....Damn near everyone else will start crying," Phil said, as he hugged his brother.

"I wouldn't cry. I don't cry at weddings. And you said damn," Dan argued.

"So I did....Huh....The things that will come out of a thirty-one year old's mouth," Phil drolly answered, and gave a smirk.

"We're not on camera, stop smirking you dolt," Dan shook his head.

"I can smirk if I want. I can do anything I want to," Phil said.

"Oh alright, I'm all for independence and emancipation and all things that defy authority," Dan approved.

"This, this is why you're my best friend," Phil said.

"That and nobody else would have you," Dan joked.

"Awwwww," Phil smiled really big.

"Hello! It's my day!" Martyn called out.

"No it isn't," Dan argued.

"It is," Martyn said.

"I thought it was the bride's day?" Phil mused.

"No gender roles," Dan interrupted the train of thought.

"Right! It's the wedding! Three cheers!" Phil grinned.

"Hip-Hip-Hooray!" Phil started.

"No!" Dan refused.

"Hip-Hooray," Martyn tried. He was nervous. He started pacing about, and he had his hands behind his back. He nodded to a corner of the room, and he muttered something under his breath.

"What's he doing?" Phil asked.

"Probably reciting his vows under his breath," Dan answered and shrugged.

"I've got his vows," Phil said, and then his eyes went wide, as he felt for the piece of paper.

"Do you now?" Dan waggled a piece of paper under his friend's nose.

"Hey give that back!" Phil reached for the paper, but Dan walked away from him.

Just then....

MY BABY!!!! In A Suit No LESS!!!! Come Here So I Can Hug You!" Catherine burst into the room. She had a handkerchief tucked into her sleeve.

"Mum!" Martyn turned to face the force that was his mother and smiled broadly.

Phil came between them and got to Catherine first, "MUMMY!" He joked.

"Stop that," Catherine frowned at him

She gently pushed Phil out of the way and hugged Martyn very hard. "Cornelia is so beautiful," Catherine said.

"Tell me something I don't know," Martyn answered.

"Her wedding outfit is beyond perfection," Catherine assured her son.

"As if it would be anything less?" Martyn smiled.

Cornelia had opted for a pantsuit and a hat with a tiny veil over it. So it merely shielded her eyes. But Martyn didn't know that. Nigel made his way in, and he glanced at the ringbearer in the poofy dress, and then shrugged and pumped Martyn's hand in an excited way.

"Oh, you changed ringbearers," Nigel noticed.

"There aren't going to be any gender roles, or labels," Martyn insisted.

"And Phill really liked the flowers," Phil said.

"Why are you referring to yourself in third person?" Nigel asked.

"I'm not, I'm referring to my cousin twice removed, who has two L's in his name," Phil said.

"The one who threw a pillow at you like an assault weapon?" Nigel asked.

"It was an accident, one tends to have them after you get sick," Phil said.

Nigel rolled his eyes and escorted an excited Catherine out of the room, after shooting Martyn a thumbs' up and a wink.

Soon it Martyn was down in front of the aisle, next to the clergy man, and he awaited his bride. He moved his feet back and forth, and he looked up at the ceiling. Phill jauntily threw flowers down the aisle. Phil gave the little boy a thumbs' up and Dan gave the boy an 'ok' sign with his fingers. Phill blushed.

"I love ginger children....."  Phil said.

"You're not kidnapping him and, or, bringing him back to our flat," Dan admonished.

Phil shot him a disappointed look. Dan shook his head, and then came Cornelia holding a single white rose as she carefully walked down the aisle with her father. She was slightly tearing up, and her mouth was trembling. It took all of Martyn's control to not go to her and hold her close to him. He hated seeing her cry.

"I'm alright Martyn," she whispered as she found herself across from him, and he held her hands. They looked into each other's eyes, and smiled demurely at each other.

"I need a handkerchief!" Dan said.

"Me too! Pass the Kleenexes," Phil said.

They reached into their pockets and pulled out some tissues and blew their noses noisily.

"Boys!" Susan shushed them, as Catherine was in a puddle of tears of her own, and Nigel patted her knee in a comforting way.

"The rings please," the clergyman interrupted, trying his best to ignore Dan and Phil.

"Marta?" Phil squatted next to the ringbearer.

She grinned and handed Phil the pillow.

"Thank you!" he neatly undid the rings and for once his klutziness didn't prevail. "AHA!" He gave Cornelia's ring to Martyn.

"Right then," Martyn placed the ring on her finger.

"Your vows?" the clergy urged.

"You're the space to my astronaut, you're the singer to my music, and you're the light of my life. Thanks for choosing me, and letting me marry you," Martyn grinned and she smiled, as she blinked away some tears. He reached out and wiped them from her cheeks with his thumb.

Cornelia placed the other ring on his finger, "Martyn you have brought joy and tallness to my life. You're goofy, coordinated, a damn fine DJ and you make me so happy. Thank you for proposing to me and marrying me."

"That's beautiful...." Dan sniffed.

"The space to my astronaut...." Phil mused.

"Shut up the both of you, I don't need you lads commentating on my ceremony. You do the voiceovers later for the video that's being recorded. Narrating. Remember?" Martyn hissed at them.

"We're gonna be on our best behaviour, starting right now," Dan promised and nudged Phil's ribs.

The clergyman looked at them and shook his head. But Martyn and Cornelia didn't seem too upset, so he continued until, "Do you Martyn Nigel Lester take Anna Maria Cornelia Dahlgren to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Martyn looked over at Dan and Phil, and the rest of the people in attendance; then back to the moment at hand, "I do." Cornelia squeezed his hand.

"And do you Anna Maria Cornelia Dahlgren take Martyn Nigel Lester to be your lawfully wedded husband?" he asked.

"I'll have to ponder that for a moment....Okay moment's over....I do," Cornelia finally answered, much to Martyn's relief.

They were bid to kiss amidst the cheers, the applause and whatever else, they kissed. Then it was time for the reception.

They walked down the aisle first, and then they were all dancing and eating. Dan and Phil were off in the corner, antisocial as usual.

And just as it had always been, family gathered 'round them, and talked over them, at them, and to them. Catherine and Susan were crying and hugging each other. Louise and Cat, still in their bridesmaids' outfits were dancing on the floor. And it was a lovely night had by all.

The End.