#as much as i love soaking up sunlight i am through and through a rainy day person. the sound. the smell. the darkness. it's my happy place

[everythingseasoning]

TW: loss of pet.

My baby black kitten died of fading kitten syndrome. She had congenital abnormalities (defects she was born with) like an enlarged kidney (which was very concerning), and extreme anemia aka low red blood cell count (her gums were all white), probably due to the Feline Leukemia she had tested positive for. She was the runt.

She was eating and licking small chunks of wet food off of her lips just the other day. She was play fighting with her siblings just the other day (granted she always was the least active because of the doomed cards she’d been dealt). But despite all her efforts to try and become healthy, in the last 24 hours, she faded.

I gave her the best possible life. Her attempted treatment lasted 12 hours before we made the decision to euthanize her, as she wasn’t responding to treatment and the leukemia was fatal. It consisted of an oxygen chamber, dextrose (sugar for her anemia), tube feedings, bloodwork, X-rays, disease tests. Those 12 hours costed me $2,500 USD. I used my life savings. I wanted her to live so badly. I wanted her to be a grown, healthy and recovered black cat who sat by the window and soaked in the gentle sunlight. I wanted to hold her and have more moments of her falling asleep in my arms— the night before her decline she was fine and had been laying on my arm, swaddled by my hoodie, her tiny 0.87 ibs / ~370 gram body cozy and warm, and she fell asleep before I started watching Survivor. I remember soaking that moment in, the yellow light of the living room. The quiet of the navy night beyond the curtains. A moment of pure coziness and sleepiness. A moment made only by two.

She was always sick and tired but didn’t show her pain. I blamed myself for her rapid decline, but the doctors all said she stayed alive as long as she could because of me (we took in a litter of kittens from outdoors last week, and it’s been so rainy, the wooden blanks under which they rested were all soaked through).

I’m grateful for every moment, my baby. Every nom of food. The way you walked up to me and meowed for food after just one day knowing me. You were starving and trusted me. The way you stared at me and jumped up, put your paws up on the oxygen chamber’s clear walls as they took you away to do treatment— you tried to go to me. I loved you and I love you forever. It was so unfair. It is so unfair. You should be alive now. I know how hard you fought to survive, to grow big and healthy. Your siblings were always so much heavier than you, alive and playing around with each other right now, though you are dead and cold and limp and decaying.

But you’re no longer in pain. You’re not going to suffocate to death. I found you in time and put you through treatment so that you could be warm and fed and given the oxygen you needed to fill your failing body— I found you in time to give you a comfortable death. You should be alive right now, you should’ve been born healthy. But you aren’t alive. But you also aren’t in pain. I did everything I could do and I am so sorry. I will take care of your siblings for you. Through the intense grief. Through it all. I love you forever, my blessing. My little kitten. 🖤

[zh-lele]

We ridin' (Preview)

This is the sound you hear when you ride with your enemies

▪︎Pairing: Lee Donghyuck / Haechan x reader

▪︎Genres: Street racing au, romance, angst

▪︎Preview word count: 0.8k

▪︎Warnings: mentions of death, profanity, lightly barely suggestive, minor character death (please let me know if there's more in this teaser!) (There could be more added as I finish the fic.)

Hi everyone!! Happy 100 followers I'm late but because I've been planning this series 👀 'Drifting' series already have stories in the making for Mark, Yuta, Taeyong and Haechan (this one). About this teaser: italics are either mc's memories or things that are about to happen. I hope to finish writing this one around Haechan's birthday. Let me know if anyone wants to join a taglist!!

Donghyuck's closed garage does its best to cancel out any sounds other than his kisses. His heart-shaped lips leave soft traces of affection on your cheeks and your jaw, caressing your neck before planting them again against yours. You know his friends are waiting for him outside, they wouldn't start the main event without him. You also know that, somewhere across the street, your brother is waiting for you too, asking where you've disappeared to for another night. There is also one last and most important thing you know, and that is that you shouldn't be here, sitting on the hood of your designated rival's car, with the same one standing between your legs and stealing the air out of your lungs. Still, you've been ignoring for three months now the fact that you shouldn't be seeing Donghyuck.

"Like you," he whispers to you, barely getting away from your lips. "Like you so much."

His hands are gently caressing your thighs. Yours keep tracing the soft skin of his face, his nape, until your fingers tangle through his locks and you pull him away. His smile is bright and warm as the sun. His eyes resemble nothing but pure adoration; if yours shine, it's only because the moon reflects the sunlight. The nickname suits him too well.

You can't fall for Haechan. Your brother's voice resonates in your head, arousing an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. I know he will try to get to us through you. Don't fall for any of the shit he could say.

"Why do you do this, though?" You ask the boy in front of you, while fixing his disheveled hair before he will have to go out.

He stares at you with a frown, the tilting of his head to the side indicating he didn't understand the question.

"Racing, I mean. Like, you don't need the money or the fame or anything that comes with this, you know."

Maybe, if Donghyuck didn't race, there would be no such stupid rivalry between your family and Donghyuck and his team. Maybe that way you could be together publicly; you wouldn't have to wait for days and days to see him and, when you finally get the chance, always be at risk of being caught by one of those parts.

"'Cause it's in my blood, baby," he answers with a smirk. "Racing is what I am, this is what I'm supposed to do."

His tight grip on both your hands and his deep loving eyes staring into yours, you think are supposed to give you comfort. Yet, unfortunately, they're far from that.

"Hey," he's whispering against your lips once again. When he presses his forehead on yours and closes his eyes, you rush to protect his face in your hands and try to memorize each of the beauty marks that adorn it. "I know what you're thinking about. Don't look so sad." 

The volume of his words is almost inaudible; the multiple voices and the music playing outside the garage suddenly disturbing your senses a little too much, reminding you that you are not as alone as it feels like.

"I care for you. You know that I'd die for you."

Outside it's so rainy that his favorite floral shirt got all soaked up against his skin. Lightnings pierce the air and hit your ears like bullets. Is dangerous to drive at night under such condition. Is even more dangerous to race on a rainy night. The storm and the countless drops of water, however, hadn't been enough to scare Donghyuck or wash the euphoria that gets over him every time he comes across an empty road and a contender. 'I don't even like driving anymore if I'm not racing' is what he said and worried you a while ago.

"That's a little too much, don't you think?" You laugh it off this time. Donghyuck can be a little too passionate.

"No, I mean it. Like, if Johnny crossed that door right now, found me here wrapped in your arms and decided to beat the shit out of me, I'd still die as a happy man, you know, 'cause I got to be with you."

You gotta stop seeing Haechan. You remember your friend's words. "Mark, you don't know what you're talking about." Is what you said. But if something ever happened to you, you know they would blame it all on Donghyuck. "I'm just worried about you, dude. That's it."

A roll of your eyes and a quick peck is all Donghyuck gets as a response, before you are shoving him from you at the sound of his name being called from outside. Lee Haechan. The street racer. The personification of the sun. Also your family's biggest rival. They don't have a real reason not to like him, afterall. They just hate each other as if they were kids from high school.

"I'm a die hard, too passionate." He acknowledges as you lay bare on his chest, his right arm keeping you secured against him and tracing patterns on your back.

"Are you like this with every girl? You gonna scare them off." You joke, moving your head to make eye contact with him. A smile takes over your face as you notice he was already looking at you with the same loving eyes.

Donghyuck only laughs after hearing you, tightening his grip and hugging you with both arms.

"I don't scare you, though." He's right. "Fucking love you."

[annabethy]

Not quite a role swap but like artistic Annabeth and STEM Percy AU? Just fluff and that couple dynamic but not in the way it’s normally done I think would be immaculate

in which Percy’s good with numbers, but Annabeth teaches him the importance of art,, percabeth

Percy’s good with numbers. He sees the world from a logical point of view, and he always has. Math is something that makes sense to him — he prefers it over everything else because he finds that with numbers, there’s always an answer. He isn’t fond of the unknown. He prefers a set process that has a definitive answer. It’s the life of engineering that’s followed him into his personal life. But with Annabeth, he finds he prefers the unknown.

There’s something artistic about Annabeth, Percy can’t help but think. It’s the way she focuses on each piece she creates, entirely consumed in the beauty of it. It’s the way she bites on her tongue that just pokes through her lips with every brush stroke. It’s her paint-splattered clothes and messy ponytail that make her seem like a masterpiece, handcrafted from the heavens above.

He finds beauty in her and the things that she creates. There are no logistics in art. It’s open-ended, with infinite possibilities, and he quickly learns to appreciate the perfection of all things that have no definitive answer. He wants to venture into the unknown and see what it creates when he gives it the opportunity to.

Annabeth, just like the art she creates, is unpredictable. No amount of math or science can ever do things in the way that she does, one paint stroke at a time, and he doesn’t want it to.

From where Percy’s seated in the art studio, he can see the way sunlight pours over Annabeth’s body. They’re high up in the New York City skyline, and it’s only appropriate that the background is as breathtaking as Annabeth is in this moment.

She’s covered in paint, as usual, but it just makes him see her as a work of art. There’s a smudge of grey on her cheek from where she’d attempted to scratch an itch, though he doesn’t tell her that. Her hair glows golden, flyaways visible against the illuminated skyline.

He shifts in his seat on a table clattered with art supplies, and Annabeth shoots him a scolding look.

“Don’t move,” she warns him, but there’s a playful tone to her voice.

“It’s not my fault you refuse to put a couch in here,” he says, pointedly shifting again. “I’m going to break my tailbone against this table. And really, is it that bad of an idea to have some furniture in here? I spend almost all my time in this place.”

“You’re welcome to go to the library with all your other engineers,” she sneers, lifting a wet paintbrush at him menacingly. “Maybe you should have chosen a better major.”

“I like numbers,” he defends. “With numbers, you can be sure. With numbers, there’s always a correct answer. You just have to be smart enough to find it.”

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone who like calculus.”

“All I’m saying is that I like being sure.”

Annabeth lifts the corner of her lips as she resumes painting against the canvas. He cranes his neck to see what she’s working on, but it’s no use. She’s turned too far away from him to properly see anything besides a blur.

“I like art,” Annabeth says softly. “Are you sure about me?”

She says it with a calm voice. It’s a light comment, and he thinks that she’s just messing with him, but it still kills him to think she may feel he’s unsure about her when she’s the one thing he knows he needs.

He stands up from the table, clearing a spot for his computer that had been on his lap. He has to step over various canvases and piles of things he couldn’t even begin to name before he makes his way to her side. He immediately pulls her against him, lips pressing against her paint-covered cheek with a featherlight touch.

“You’re the one thing I am sure about,” he whispers into her ear, pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear. He can practically feel the shiver that races its way up her spine, and it makes him smile. “You, Annabeth Chase, are a work of art. You make me see the world in a way I never did before. If there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that you’re it for me.”

Annabeth turns her face so that she can look him in the eyes. She looks so cute from close up that he can’t help but kiss the tip of her nose.

“You’re it for me too,” she tells him. “Even if you like doing math for a living.”

Percy laughs into the crook of her neck, nuzzling the soft skin there. He breathes her in, cherishing the smell of her and a mix of paints and primers.

He stays there for a moment, hugging her by the waist with his face pressed into her neck while she begins to finish what she’s painting. He likes being with her like this, against her warm body that smells so much like his home – like the home he wants to come back to every night and wake up to every morning.

When he does lift his head, he sees her entirely devoured in finishing what she’s created. Up close, he can better see the way her eyebrows scrunch slightly, and the reflection of the canvas popping with color. Her eyelashes are curved to perfection, framing the gray irises he’s fallen in love with.

And he remembers why he fell in love with those eyes now; it was the first painting she’d gifted to him after he told her about his fondness for the ocean. He’d told her about his days spent at Montauk, watching the waves crash against the shore, feeling the sunlight burn his skin. And he remembers that she’d told him how she prefers the rainy days where thunder can be felt shaking the ground, where it pours so hard the power goes out. It wasn’t until weeks later that she showed him what she’d been working on, and it was an image of a storm along the coast of Montauk. A symbol of the two of them coming together — the storm in the sea. Annabeth had come clean and mentioned spending a few weekends at the beach he grew up along, how she had spent hours trying to get it right. The dark clouds above the sea she’d painted had matched her eyes – the violent waves crashing against the rocky shore symbolized the fierce emotion he sees every time he looks into her eyes.

It was that second that he fell in love with her, pulling her in for a kiss because it was the only way he knew how to show her just what he was feeling. It was something he couldn’t put into words. It was something that only her painting could encapsulate. It was wonderful and perfect and them and—

It was art.

“That’s beautiful,” Percy tells her now, watching as she paints before his eyes. It’s an image of the two of them, and one that he recognizes all too well. It’s the picture he knows is sitting in his wallet right this second.

The canvas is filled with whites and grays and blacks and everything in between as the two of them are standing beneath the rain on the beach, tangled in each other’s arms. Their hair is soaked, and rain is pouring around them hard, but they’re standing amidst it all, lips locked, to prolong the moment.

“Do you remember that day?” she asks. “I couldn’t possibly forget.”

“I miss it,” she says. “I know it started raining, and we couldn’t really do much, but it was just…”

It was perfect.

Percy kisses her forehead. “I know.”

He isn’t sure how long he stands there with her, watching her finish the painting in silence, but he doesn’t care. He is intrigued by the way she perfectly portrays the emotion behind it. All he can think about is how amazing it is, watching a scene unravel before his eyes.

Percy will always have a love for math. It’s what makes him comfortable. Numbers and equations do not fail so long as you know what to do. A part of him will always prefer the mathematics behind life.

The other part of him finds he needs the beautiful creation that comes with not knowing.

Annabeth is his polar opposite and his other half.

She is the art to his science. She taught him what it means to really sit back and let life create something beautiful. And he supposes it really did create something amazing. It brought her into his life, let them grow a love so strong no math can ever begin to explain it.

Percy used to think that letting go of control was the end of everything. He’s just now learning that it was truly the beginning.

[marrys-dream-world]

lovers alone wear sunlight (chapter eight)

Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six  Chapter Seven

Read on AO3

Notes: Day 20: Escape. @ladrienjune​

Ladybug absolutely detested the cold season. 

Tikki had warned her, at the beginning of the end of her normal life™ , that she would retain some of the characteristics of the ladybug insect because of her miraculous. It was just September, so she brushed it off easily, mind filled with the electrifying sensation of flying and the rush of falling for the sunshine that occupied the seat in front of her in class. Of course, now during the old drags of Paris’ rainy season, it never left her mind, especially as she was soaked to the bone.

It had just been a drizzle when she left her house, even though Tikki had strongly advised her against it. But Adrien had been upset during the day, eyes cloudy as he looked out of the wind for most of the period. Ms. Bustier, aware of the good student Adrien is, didn’t call him out in favor of asking Marinette to please look at the board and not her classmate. She had turned tomato red and hid behind her book, but didn’t miss the concerned look her teacher sent Adrien and the way she held him back for a few minutes after class, talking in hushed tones in the empty classroom. 

At least I won’t die if I fall. Ladybug thought as she threw her yo-yo at the slippery slopes of the buildings. The rain was starting to get even heavier, but she soldiered on as the light of Adrien’s window grew closer and closer. 

When she finally reached it, she knocked desperately, precariously perched on the most solid thing she could find. She couldn’t see Adrien through the foggy and drenched glass, so she almost fell forward when he suddenly opened the window. Fortunately, strong arms caught before she could hit the ground.

“Falling for me, my hero?” Adrien said softly, the ghost of a smile pulling on his lips. Just by seeing him, it felt like the rain outside got lighter and the sky wasn’t as grey anymore.

“Can't deny it, handsome.” She said, cuddling against his chest before her eyes snapped wide open. “I got you all wet!”

“It’s just water.” He shrugged it off, squeezing her shoulder. He seemed to do that a lot, whether she was Ladybug or just Marinette. “I’ll get you a towel.”

“Thanks.” Ladybug said, using his distraction to take in the sight of him.

She hadn't imagined his bad disposition at all. Adrien looked frail, shoulders slumped and skin pale. He walked sluggishly to his closet, the small smile he wore whenever she was around leaving his face. 

“Is everything okay, Adrien?” Ladybug asked, unwilling to beat around the bush. They cried in each other’s arms too much (a worrying amount, to be honest) for her to hesitate asking. 

He turned to her and opened his mouth and then closed it again, frowning and handing her the bigger towel he got. He motioned for her to turn around and after she did, he started to dry her hair gently with a smaller towel he had in hands. 

“Today is my mother’s birthday.” He said simply and it knocked her breath away. “My father and I haven’t really been talking these days, you know why. But I thought that since it’s today, we could spend some time together. It’s not like he would let aunt Amelie and Félix come back here after what happened last time.”

Ladybug shuddered as he thought of Adrien’s creepy cousin. She couldn’t believe that she agreed with Gabriel Agreste on something.

“So I asked him if we could spend the day together, watch one of mom’s movies and maybe get her favorite orange cake just to celebrate her, but he…” Adrien laughed wetly. “Let’s just say I wish he just told me a simple no.”

“Oh, Adrien…” She dropped her towel and turned around to hug his shaking form. “It’s okay, you can let it out.”

“I’m just so tired of crying, Ladybug.” He choked out. “It feels like it’s all I’ve been doing lately. It’s not fair, I should be happy.”

“Adrien?” She said hesitantly, taking notice of the hysterical note his voice took.

“I have friends, I’m going to school and I have a wonderful girlfriend. I should be happy. Hell, I should be ecstatic!” His voice slowly grew in volume and she desantagled herself from his arms to look at his glassy eyes. “Why am I not happy?”

Because of your father. She wanted to say. Because Adrien’s weird complex with his model persona? His isolation from his friends? His family drama? It all boiled down to Gabriel and it would be so easy for her to just say it.... But Adrien was too vulnerable right now. 

Because of me. She also wanted to say. Because Adrien’s school life wasn’t as enjoyable with Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s avoidance of him and the whole class aware of their forced break up. Alya urged to talk to him everyday, but just the thought of facing Adrien with no mask after everything that happened made her skin break out into hives.

Because of me. She wanted to say even more, emphasize. Because Ladybug, as Adrien’s girlfriend, was absolutely useless. She was someone whose real name and face he didn’t know, who he couldn’t introduce to his friends and family. And if he did? It was doomed anyways. She felt helpless, relying on words when all she wanted was to fix his problems.

She would never say any of that, though, too scared of ruining her relationship with Adrien.

Like you ruined yours with Chat? A malicious voice rang around her head. It sounded like herself. 

“It’s all I ever wanted…” He continued, sounding exhausted. “So why am I like this?”

“You don’t have to be happy just because you have those things, you know?” She said gently, taking his hand on hers. “It doesn’t make you ungrateful or anything.”

“I-I guess so.” Adrien admitted, squeezing her hand. “But I’m just tired of being sad, Ladybug.”

An idea popped into her head.

“Then let’s do something about it.” Ladybug looked outside the window and sure enough, the rain had faded away, leaving the cloudy sky. “You know what always cheers me up? A yo-yo ride.”

“Are you saying…?” He said, eyes becoming more focused.

“Do you think your father would notice if you left?”

He snorted. “Definitely not. But what if it rains again?”

“It’s not like we're made of sugar.” She said, opening the window and holding out her hand. “I would never let you fall. Trust me?”

Adrien’s eyes softened. “Always, my love.”

And then they were soaring through the sky. Even though it was barely after five in the afternoon, the sky was dark enough it looked like late at night, so Adrien got the full experience of soaring through the Parisian night lights. Ladybug had a hard time steering them as she could barely keep her eyes away from Adrien’s awed face and shining eyes. They swung between the building for a few minutes before she noticed he was shivering, so they stopped on top of a very familiar building near her parent’s bakery.

Chat’s rooftop for the romantic surprise that day… She shook away those thoughts before they could consume her. 

“I should have told you to put on a sweater before we left.” Ladybug told Adrien, hugging his shivering body to her. “I forget how windy it can get and that I don’t feel very cold in the suit and…”

“Hey, it’s okay, my hero.” He said, sounding a lot more chirpy than before. “I got so excited that I forgot, too.”

“Well, at least I can warm you up like this.” She said, tightening her arms and he hummed happily.

“Maybe that was my plan all along.” Adrien teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You only had to ask, handsome.” Ladybug answered, enjoying the flush it brought to his face. “So, did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy it? I loved it! It felt so… different.” His smile was brighter than the lights around them.

“Good. You deserve to have nice things.” She said, rubbing his back. “Look, I can’t solve all your problems, no matter how much I want to. But if I can give you anything in my reach, please tell me.”

“You already do more than enough, my love.” And he truly believed that, from the way he looked at her. “I just get overwhelmed, sometimes. I feel like I’m in such a better place than I was last year, so I shouldn’t be so… ungrateful.”

“You’re not ungrateful, Adrien.” She repeated her words from their previous conversation. “It’s okay to be sad.”

“I know that, objectively, but it doesn’t feel like that.” Adrien sighed, looking up from the girl in his arms to the sky. “Uh… Ladybug?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s going to-” Before he could finish, it started to rain once again, heavily.

Ladybug spluttered and Adrien, already looking soaked, laughed at the ridiculous situation. She quickly contemplated her options, holding back from just grabbing Adrien and taking him to her balcony so they could hide in her room. Instead, she did what she always did when she didn’t know what to do. 

“Lucky Charm!” She shouted, magic flaring up around her and changing her suit to its new form. An open umbrella fell into her hands and she put it over their heads, even if they were already too wet for it to be useful.

“Wow.” Adrien said, eyes shining. “I haven’t been able to see it so close yet. Especially since you’re not, you know, in battle.”

“I’m still getting used to this transformation after transformation stuff.” She said, trying to steady the umbrella against the strong wind. “What do you think of the new suit?”

“I think it suits you.” He said and laughed when she rolled her eyes. “Thanks for lucky charming this umbrella. Think I can keep it?”

“Dunno, never tried to keep a lucky charm. But why? Can’t even buy an umbrella, rich boy?”

“I did have you. It was my mother’s, but it’s safe with a friend. A good one.” His gaze turned melancholic as it slid to the balcony on the top of Tom&Sabine’s. 

She was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to tell him. Tell him she has his umbrella, that it meant so much more to her than he could ever think, that there has never been anyone else for her, that her coming to visit him was as much for her sake as it was for his, that she wanted to hold his hand in class, that she wanted to go on double dates with Nino and Alya, that she wanted his father to suck it if he disapproved.That she’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she’s irrevocably in love with Adrien Agreste.

But she can’t. And didn’t that hurt?

“I’m glad you have good friends, Adrien.” She said, burying her head on his chest so he wouldn’t see the guilt in her eyes.

“I’m glad, too.” He murmured back, unaware of how her chest was caving in under the weight of so much emotion. 

They stayed under the umbrella until the heavy rain wore down. When Marinette woke up with a light fever and a sore throat the next day and her doting mother called the school to say she wouldn’t show up, she only had one thought on her mind.

I want to tell Adrien who I am. 

[messrprcngs]

PICNIC MISHAPS & RAINY KISSES.

REQUESTED by @meteora-fc : “"Kissing in the rain and getting soaked before running inside laughing" with charlie weasley please 💖” ( number 4 from this prompt list ! ) SUMMARY : you’ve been with charlie weasley for six months now, to the day, and so far your relationship has been perfect - well, aside from the fact that charlie’s been avoiding you for the better part of the last week. part of you is afraid charlie’s going to break up with you soon, but he proves that that’s not at all what he has in mind. PAIRING : charlie weasley x reader ( gender neutral ) WARNINGS : little bit of angst but only if you squint. like really, really quint. lots and lots of fluff. this is 99.999999% fluff, i promise ! WORD COUNT : 2.4k. too many words, whoops. A/N : i gave this too much plot, but hope you like it anyway ! thanks for requesting, love. also, tonks and charlie were definitely the supreme brotp during their years at hogwarts. sry i don’t make the rules

you’re woken by the warm sensation of mid-morning sunlight on your face, and you lazily peel your eyes open to find the curtains covering the window in your dorm room thrown wide open.

you push yourself up in bed and let loose a very loud yawn as you stretch to get rid of that dreadful stiffness that comes with sleeping in. you figure you must’ve slept in, anyway, despite the watter

a glance at the clock above the door tells you that you were in fact right. it reads 11:32, meaning that you’d missed breakfast this morning. but it’s alright, because it’s saturday, and it is a well-known fact around hogwarts that many students popped into the kitchen on weekends to pick something up in place of whatever meal they’d missed.

slipping out of bed, you yawn and stretch one last time, before going to your trunk at the foot of the bed. you rummage around through it, trying to pick something to wear. on the one hand, it was saturday, which meant you could dress as comfy as you liked - on the other hand, though, you may run into charlie, and there was a part of you that really wanted to try and impress him.

it isn’t like you need to, you remind yourself as you settle on a plain sweatshirt. you two are already dating, had been dating for six months now. six months, to the day, you think happily, setting the sweatshirt back into your trunk and picking up a nice button up instead. you could definitely tuck that into something, and look cute and put together for your six month anniversary.

they’d been a nearly perfect sixth months, with every moment you shared with charlie being better than the last, even when you two argued.

it hadn’t been feeling very perfect lately, though. for the past week or so, charlie had been avoiding you. he was quick to leave any room you were both in within five minutes if he could get away with it, and he kept making up excuses during meals to sit with his friends on the gryffindor quidditch team and not with you and nymphadora tonks at the hufflepuff table. he’d even taken to pairing with one of the gryffindor team beaters during potions instead of with you.

all of that, coupled with the fact that he’d been stumbling a lot through the conversations he had had with you this week (which was very un-charlie-like of him), left you worrying about the possibility that maybe charlie wanted to break up with you.

you worry at your bottom lip at the thought, picking up the lip balm on your bedside table and applying it to keep yourself from doing it. calm down, y/n, you chided yourself. it’s charlie. he would just tell you if he wanted to break up with you. wouldn’t he?

you shake your head to clear it of the dreadful thoughts you’re having, but you fold the button up back up anyway, choosing to wear the sweatshirt instead. you dress and brush your teeth quickly, slip your wand into your pocket, and head out the door and down the stairs into the gryffindor common room.

and who do you find sitting in a chair facing the staircase you’ve just come down? none other than your very own charlie weasley, of course.

you start in surprise when you realize that it is, in fact, him sitting there, and his whole body seems to perk up when he sees you, which startles you even more. though you really weren’t that concerned about it, you definitely hadn’t expected him to be so eager to see you, given the events of the past week.

“y/n!” he shouts, and he’s out of the chair and on his feet in front of you in seconds. he’s grinning, wide and goofy and perfect, and despite your confusion you can’t help but smile a little too.

“charlie,” you say breathlessly, clearing your throat when you hear how you sound. “i mean, um - what are you doing here ?”

he tilts his head to the side, like a puppy. confused. some of his hair falls into his face and over his eyes, and you resist the urge to brush it away. just in case.

“what do you mean what am i doing here? this is my common room, too, you know! i’m - was - waiting for you, love.”

your brows furrow. “for me?”

“of course! now come on, i have something to show you!” and with that he grabs you by the hand and pulls you to the portrait hole, opening it and practically shoving you outside with his free hand. he lets the portrait door slam closed (much to the fat lady’s displeasure) and then he takes off running down the hall, dragging you along with him.

you yelp as the two of you race down corridors and around corners, only slowing to go down staircases - but not by much, seeing as how you’d tripped over your own feet nearly fifteen times going down the first one.

by the time charlie finally slows to a stroll, you’re panting very loudly. you’d just woken up, for godric’s sake! how did he expect you to keep up with him under those conditions? curse charlie and his unnaturally long legs and apparently large lung capacity.

you’re in the entrance way now, nearing the great big front doors of hogwarts - and the door to the great hall, too. you turn your head and tug on charlie’s hand as you pass. you need an early lunch after sleeping in so late, after all. but charlie simply tugs on your own hand harder, sending you stumbling forward and closer to his side. when you look up at him with a pout, he shakes his head, his messy red hair flying up in all directions, and smiles at you.

“you’ll get lunch soon enough, don’t worry,” he tells you as he tugs you out the doors and down the stone path leading onto the lawn. it’s chilly out, and the sky overhead is full of gray clouds.

you huff. “charlie, where are we going?”

he’s still smiling wide as he looks down at you and says, “you’ll see.” he looks about ready to burst with excitement.

you huff again, but don’t ask anymore questions. instead, you shiver and look up at the sky warily. it looks as if it’s going to rain, and while you don’t particularly mind rain, you’re hungry and still partially worried about the possibility of charlie breaking up with you - in short, not in the mood to be rained on.

charlie tugs you closer as you shiver, letting go of your hand to loop his arm through yours before lacing your fingers together again. you suppress a smile at the contact; okay, so maybe you really had been getting much too far into your head thinking that charlie wanted to break up with you. that still didn’t explain him avoiding you, though.

after walking for around ten minutes, you reach the bottom of a hill higher than most on the right side of the black lake, and charlie turns to you, another one of his wide, perfect grins lighting up his face.

“come on, y/n/n!” he says as he untangles his arm from yours only to grab your hand and start pulling you along again instead. “we’re nearly there!”

charlie breaks into a sprint, and you grunt as you have to run with him to avoid falling down. when the two of you reach the crest of the hill, you’re out of breath and your calves are burning, but you still manage to gasp at what you see before you.

at the base of the hill, spread out over the grass under the shade of a large oak tree, is a lovely picnic.

your lips part in awe, and relief floods through your whole body. your shoulders slump, and tears burn at the back of your eyes. but it’s a good slump, and they’re good tears; charlie isn’t the type of person to do something like this for someone he likes the way he likes you, which meant that he definitely 100% wasn’t breaking up with you after all.

charlie squeezes your hand gently to steal your attention away from the beautiful picnic. “do you like it?” he asks, uncharacteristically nervous. a laugh bubbles up in your throat, and you throw your head back and let it out.

“of course i like it, you doofus!” you exclaim when your laughter subsides. you throw yourself at him, practically tackling him in a hug. “i love it! did you do all this?”

“yeah,” he tells you as he pulls away, eyes alight with a joy that makes your heart flutter. “for our anniversary, love.”

“is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” of course it was; you knew very well that charlie couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. (except for that very important secret that was that he loved you as more than a friend, which he’d managed to keep for nearly a year before telling you. but that was a whole other story.)

charlie looks sheepish, and he leans back into your embrace. “yeah. wanted it to be a surprise, love,” he murmurs into you hair.

“part of me honestly thought you wanted to break up with me,” you tell him, voice muffled in his shoulder. he pulls back immediately upon hearing this, holding you at arms length by the shoulders.

“you what?”

you laugh in place of an answer, but charlie looks concerned, so you say, “well, what was i supposed to think! you were avoiding me! you kept ditching me in class and you weren’t sitting with dora and i during meals!”

“well, you’re supposed to have more faith in me than that, darling!”

“darling?” you ask, grabbing his arm and tugging him back towards you and a little farther down the hill. “that’s new.”

“i was trying it out.” he hums as he lets you guide him down the slope and to the picnic that’s spread out over a spare comforter in gryffindor colors that charlie must’ve taken from the boy’s dorms. “do we like it?”

you plop yourself down in front of the picnic basket at the center of the blanket and pull him along with you. “i could get used to it.”

he reaches into the basket and brings out two butterbeers, passing one to you. he reaches around the basket and hands you a plate with one hand while balancing a platter of sandwiches on the other. he holds the platter out to you and you take two sandwiches with a smile. after all, what’s the point of a picnic if you aren’t going to stuff yourself with food?

you talk and laugh together as you eat. charlie had brought chocolate frogs, blood pops, and plenty of other candy from honeydukes, as well as treacle tart and macaroni and cheese and a small pot of roasted vegetables. the pair of you are halfway through your third slices of treacle tart when you feel the first droplets of rain come down through the leaves above you.

“it’s nothing to worry about,” charlie says around a mouthful of tart. and he’s right; it really isn’t. but just minutes later as you’re unwrapping a chocolate frog, the rain starts coming down heavier, and you look out into the sky to see that the clouds have gotten grayer since you last checked.

“maybe we should start packing up,” you say as you turn your eyes to the vegetables that are open in front of you. you watch as the pot they’re in fills with water.

charlie sighs. “yeah, okay. you’re right, as usual.”

you grin at him. “remember that the next time we take a charms quiz.”

you pile everything back into the basket, though you leave a chocolate frog out to unwrap on your way back to the castle.

“it’s a shame you didn’t bring an umbrella, love,” you say to charlie, and he gives you a playful glare as he stands up, the basket sitting in the crook of his elbow.

“well i’m sorry i don’t have foresight, darling.”

you laugh, loud and full of delight, and you move forward so that you’re standing so close to charlie. he looks at you, spellbound, like you’re the only thing in the universe, and you wrap your arms around his neck as you push yourself up to meet his lips with yours. the kiss is soft and full of love, so breathtaking that you don’t care that his shirt and your sweatshirt are both soaked through with rainwater.

when you pull away, charlie is smiling down at you lopsidedly. “the castle’s too far away, and it’s raining too hard,” he says. “we should go to hagrid’s instead. we haven’t visited in awhile.”

you nod along as he talks, and look around for hagrid’s hut. you spot it not far from where the two of you are, and you grab charlie’s hand in yours. “come on!” you call as you begin to jog through the rain. now it was your turn to drag him along after you.

you reach the cozy cottage after a few minutes - which feels like much too long to you - of sloshing through the wet grass, and by the time you slow to a stop you’re giggling.

"thank you for today,” you tell charlie as you turn to face him. you move closer so that you can once again wrap your arms around his neck again. “it was very sweet of you.”

he leans down to kiss you. “well, i’m a very sweet person,” he says against your lips, making you laugh.

“i know,” you tell him as you break away from him and head up the steps to hagrid’s front door. he follows closely behind. “that’s why i love you.”

he hums as you knock twice. “i love you too, darling.”

“you sound like your father talking to your mum when you call me darling like that, love,” you tell him as hagrid opens the door for you. he ushers the two of you in, saying something about how you’re both ‘soaked to the bone’ and ‘are going to catch a cold in weather like this,’ but all of hagrid’s mother-hen-worry is drowned out by charlie’s bright laughter.

[sociallyawkward--fics]

Stormy Saturdays

Wow, it feels like forever since I wrote a Sanders Sides oneshot that wasn't from a prompt??? All of my energy goes into prompts and my chaptered fics usually lol, but I've had a lot of writing energy these last few weeks so I decided "why not use it" lol

Also, this fic 100% came from it raining in Arizona today and me being like "WHAT" because we never get rain lol. And I got to stand in it and freeze because I was delivering Easter baskets to some of my church youth kids (we maintained social distancing! I put the baskets on their porches and rang the bell/knocked on the door and then stepped back 6+ feet to talk to them when they answered the door to get their goodies, it was really good to see them).

(also what’s editing, I am too lazy, lol)

Word Count: 1838 words

[ao3 link]

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

It was far too early to be awake, considering how late they had stayed up the night before. Logan sat up straight, trying desperately to not doze off in the middle of whatever game Roman was playing (he was interested, he really was! He was just so tired), meanwhile, Roman seemed to have no issues himself. He sprawled out across the blankets and pillows littering the floor, looking much the part of a spoiled prince, controller in his hands.

The smell of breakfast lingered, the good food filling his stomach only dragging Logan closer to sleep. It was the smell of food that woke them up originally, as Roman’s parents knew there was nothing that could rouse teenage boys like the smell of bacon and eggs and Roman’s mom’s famous pancakes. It didn’t matter how late they were up, just that they didn’t sleep the day away and lose all the sunlight.

Not that there was much sunlight to be had, that day. The sky was unusually overcast, adding to the lazy-day feel of the late Saturday morning. Grey, cold days always made Logan more tired, made him feel like he was stuck in some sort of limbo, made him feel like time wasn’t real. Roman didn’t share his feelings, always far-too-excited when clouds filled the sky, hoping for the still-rare chance of rain.

Logan allowed himself to zone out. The ambient sounds of the video game, the full stomach, the comforting smell, the warm blankets, Roman’s breathing just a foot away and slightly below him… it was all too much. He tried to keep from dozing, but he certainly wasn’t paying attention to the current world around him, anymore.

Which is why it startled him so badly when Roman gasped loud enough to send his cat flying out of the lounge room. Logan bolted upright from where he’d started to slouch and gave Roman a look somewhere between a glare and immense confusion.

“What the hell?” He grumbled, only growing more confused as Roman paused his game and launched up onto the couch next to him.

“Hear that?” Roman said giddily as he used his fingers to spread apart the blinds on the window behind the couch and peek through.

Logan finally paused to take in the added sound: rain. And by the sound of it, it was getting harder by the minute. That was Arizona for you, either it spit for two minutes, or it poured for three hours, no in-between.

And then it processed what Roman was about to do.

“Absolutely not,” Logan said. “You are not going out there.”

“Why not?” Roman asked, already peeling off his socks. “There’s no thunder or lightning, it’s just rain.”

“Yeah!” Logan said incredulously. “Pouring rain! It’s probably freezing, and you’ll be soaked in moments, you’ll catch something. You’re 18 Roman, really?”

Roman tossed him a lopsided smile over his shoulder. “Aww, Lo, didn’t know you cared.”

Logan rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to mumble more than you think.

“Anyway, I’m going out there. Stay here if you want, you big fuddy-duddy,” Roman said, voice teasing enough that Logan knew he didn’t mean it. “Age is just a number, old man, embrace your inner child!”

And with that, before Logan could even argue that he was only a month older, Roman was swinging open the door in the lounge room that led out to the side of the house. Logan rushed over to the door just in time to watch Roman dramatically hop and skip over the stepping stones, leap gracefully over the last one onto his driveway, and practically bound down it onto the empty street.

“Roman!” He called, but Roman just turned to give him a smug grin before turning his face skyward.

He spread his arms wide, as if welcoming the rain to him. A serene smile found its way onto his lips, despite being soaked. His pajama pants and tank top were plastered to his body, already soaked, and the hair slicked his hair back as it soaked him from head to toe.

“Dammit,” Logan muttered as he started slipping off his own socks. “Damn you, Roman Kingsley, for being my best friend.” He slipped his glasses off and set them on an end table. He was farsighted, he could make his eyes work without them, he just preferred to have them on. “Damn you for making me fall in love with you.” He tentatively stepped out the side door, stepping carefully across the stones on his toes. “Damn you for being so attractive.” He caught himself on the side of Roman’s house as he nearly slipped stepping onto the driveway. “Dammit, Roman.”

He was close enough for Roman to hear that last muttered sentence, and the boy in question whirled around to give Logan a grin so bright he was almost certain the sun had come back out. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed Logan’s hand, giving it a firm tug that led to Logan practically falling into his chest. Roman laughed and used that grip to spin him around under his arm, and even Logan couldn’t hold in a tiny laugh at that.

That spin led to Roman sweeping him into a full, goofy dance, right there in the middle of the street. They had to hold tightly to each other to keep from slipping, and the asphalt bit at their feet, but neither seemed to mind, based off their laughter. They didn’t worry much about cars coming by, seeing as Arizonans were notorious for not being able to drive in the rain, and people in Roman’s neighborhood tended to just stay home once a storm started.

Among all their twirling, Logan managed to back his way into a rather large puddle, stepping too hard in it and splashing their already-soaked bodies. Roman gave a fake gasp, and Logan laughed, darting out of his arms in “fear” of revenge. 

He only managed to get a few feet down the street (he had to run pretty carefully to not hurt himself on the asphalt) before he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and pull him into a broad chest. He was lifted off the ground and spun in so many circles that he got dizzy, and he closed his eyes and tossed his head back against Roman’s shoulder to laugh breathlessly.

After a few more rotations, Roman carefully set him back on his own two feet, keeping the grip around his torso. Logan turned in his arms to grin, up at Roman, shoulders still shaking with light giggles. Roman was laughing still, too, and the mirth in his eyes danced with far more grace than they had been earlier. Their laughter slowly petered off as they stared into each other’s eyes, panting from the exertion.

Logan leaned in first, shocking himself with his boldness, but Roman was quick to follow once he realize what was going on. Logan had to stand on his toes and pull Roman down by the neck (when had he sprouted up to be so tall?!), and Roman used the grip he still had on Logan’s waist to bring their bodies flush together.

It wasn’t as romantic as Roman had always waxed poetic about, kissing in the rain. Their pajamas were sticking uncomfortably to their bodies, their wet hair stuck into their eyes, their grips on each other kept slipping from the slick water, and it was rather cold to just stand still in the rain. But nonetheless, it was perfect. It was everything.

The kiss was chaste and brief, they pulled back not soon after it started and Roman helped Logan lower himself back to standing flat. They couldn’t stop grinning at each other. The first crack of thunder shocked them out of their trance.

Roman giggled as he took Logan’s hand and started leading him back down the driveway. “Told you rainy days were fun.”

Logan bumped their shoulders together, carefully so that neither of them slipped. “Shut up, I’m freezing. We’re probably going to get sick.”

Roman gave him a cheeky grin. “Worth it, though.”

They made their way back inside and found two large, fluffy towels waiting for them, as well as two clean, dry sets of Roman’s pajamas from his room. Roman unfolded one of the towels and unceremoniously dumped it onto Logan’s head, ruffling his hair with it and making Logan laugh again, struggling to get free.

He finally did, wrapping the towel around himself (it was large enough to cover almost his entire body from shoulders to calves, and warm, too) as he shucked off his soaked pajamas under it. “I take it this means they must’ve seen everything, then.”

Roman’s cheeks flushed a little as he stripped down to his boxers (which made Logan himself flush and have to avert his eyes) and started drying himself off with the other oversized towel. “Didn’t exactly intend for my first kiss with you to have my parents as an audience.”

It was Logan’s turn to grin cheekily, a habit he undoubtedly picked up from Roman. “It’s alright. The second one will be much more private.”

Roman smirked and stepped closer, wrapping his towel around his own body (he was so tall it only covered him from under his arms to his knees). “Oh, yeah?”

Logan stepped closer. “Yeah.”

And of course, the moment was immediately ruined by Roman’s feet sliding out from under him from a puddle of his own making. Logan snorted out a disgusting, ugly laugh and doubled over with the force of it, and Roman let out a few embarrassed chuckles, but he was still looking at Logan like he’d hung the moon and the stars.

Logan helped him up and they made quick work of drying off the rest of the way, pulling on the dry clothes Roman’s parents had left out for them. Logan located his glasses and slipped them back on, letting his eyes rest after having to do all the work for a while.

And then Roman promptly pulled him down into his pillow-blanket puddle. They landed in a tangled, giggly heap of limbs, Logan almost losing his glasses again in the process. They readjusted to be slightly more comfortable (and Logan pulled at least three blankets on top of them because he was still freezing and didn’t know how Roman wasn’t) and cuddled up together again.

And then they kissed again. And it was just as perfect the second time, if a little more coordinated (and dry and warm). And the third and fourth and fifth and sixth kisses were stolen in private, too.

And Logan knew they had to talk about this, and he knew Roman knew it too, but for right now, this was enough. A lazy Saturday morning, stormy and rainy outside, filled with good food and joy, Logan backseat gaming as Roman picked up the controller again, a playful fight for the controller that ended in more kissing. 

Because wherever they both were would always be enough.

[celestial-mari]

Raindrops

DickKory Valentine’s Day Weekend Day 2: Date Night

The life of a human on planet Earth is much different than that of a Tamaranean on Tamaran. There are similarities for sure. For instance, both humans and Tamaraneans enjoy various similar things, the warm sunlight on a cloudless day, the feeling of wind through their hair, and of course, time spent with those they love. Yet, before coming to Earth, Koriand’r had never heard of the idea of a date. On Tamaran, this type of planned romantic evening wasn’t really done. Tamaraneans preferred to live their lives based on chance, spontaneity, and passion. If they wanted to go out and have a nice time, it was always a spur in the moment decision. Yet, for Kory, as the humans say, when in Rome do as the Romans do. 

It wasn’t a particularly beautiful night on which Dick Grayson and his long-time girlfriend Koriand’r had planned to have a date night. The rain poured outside of the Titans Tower, droplets of water chasing each other down the giant glass windows of the comical, yet modernist structure. The sounds of the rain were peaceful, white noise among the otherwise quiet tower, with the occasional burst of bright light and booming thunder echoing throughout the tranquil space. 

Kory had been ready for their date for quite some time now, sitting in a chair by windows in the living room of the tower. Since it was a Saturday night, the others were all out and about. Raven was exploring the dimensions around Azarath, looking for something as a favor to the Justice League. Victor and Gar were at a Doom Patrol party being thrown at the Dayton Mansion. Truthfully, Gar was the only one invited, but he dragged Vic with him so he wouldn’t get in another argument with his adopted father. Donna, on the other hand, was on a mission with Diana and Cassie, which had gone on for quite a couple days now. Either way, this meant that the tower was feeling lonelier than usual, especially the the sound of dripping rain. 

Pulling her gaze away from the racing rain droplets on the windows, Kory stood up from her chair, letting herself float slightly off the ground, the tips of her black high-heeled shoes just barely grazing the tower’s tiled floors. She was used to Dick being late for things, as that came with the territory of being a superhero. He probably got caught up with on his way home from Gotham. She knew he could take care of himself, but a part of her still worried, understanding just how dangerous this type of life could be. 

The sounds of the rain led her up towards the roof. On Tamaran, it rarely rained, and when it did, it was always just enough to make sure the thriving plant life had enough to drink. Humans usually disliked it, blaming a mere thunderstorm for cancelled plans or other troubles. Yet, Kory was calmed by it. Something that is virtually impossible for a Tamaranean, a race that thrives on fiery passion. 

She was almost to the roof when her phone buzzed, a familiar image of the man she loved with a boyish grin on his face shining from the screen. A humored smile flew onto her face as she answered the phone.

“Where are you?” Dick’s voice on the other end was apologetic but playful.

“I do not know, where are you?” Kory chimed with a laugh. “You are late.”

Dick’s voice laughed in earnest through the phone line, “I’m downstairs.”

By then, Kory had reached the door to the roof. Had anyone been with her at the time, they’d probably warn her not to go outside. Something about her sheer, white jumpsuit getting wet in the rain, or her extremely long tendrils of red hair never becoming dry again. She opened the door and stepped outside, the cool water sprinkling her face. 

“I am on the roof.” she replied giddily.

“Oh my god,” Dick muttered. Kory knew he was shaking his head. “I’ll be right up.”

The rain was starting to pour harder, if that was even possible. The sheer fabric of her outfit sticking to her golden skin. On Earth, it might be slightly scandalous, but on a Tamaran no one ever batted an eye so why should she. For some reason, she wanted nothing more than to feel the rain on her skin, to see the beauty of the world outside of the Titans tower. Earth could be so beautiful at night, with billions of stars sparkling in the sky. 

It was then that she heard the clutter of a grappling hook, followed by various grunts of effort, and finally a soaking wet Dick Grayson climbing up to the roof in a fancy, navy blue suit. Dick proceeded to jump to his feet, standing on the other end of the tower. His dark hair was a mess due to the climb he just finished and the pouring rain. Moving towards her, he ran a hand through his hair trying to tidy it.

“Why do you always have to make things so difficult?” he quipped, grinning like a school boy. His eyes ecstatic to see her in front of him, glowing with love and adoration.

Kory laughed, her feet lifting off the ground again in glee before stating, “you are the one who was late and then proceeded to climb up the tower instead of using the front door.” 

With a shake of his head, he started running towards her, careful not to slip on the wet ground, holding his arm over his head as though it would somehow protect him from the rain that had already soaked through all the layers of his outfit. When he reached Kory, he took her hands in his, admiring the way her golden skin shimmered in the rainy moonlight. 

“I was late.” He admitted, pressing a playful kiss to her hand, “I had to do my penance.”

“And that means climbing up the side of a skyscraper?” Kory retorted, pulling him into her arms by the hand he had taken hers in.

“For you?” he replied, resting his head just above her chest, the soaked fabric of her jumpsuit barely keeping them apart, “anything.”

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, admiring just how different they were. Dick’s blue eyes held mischief and humor but also a fierce darkness and pain that Kory knew well. On the other hand, Kory’s bright green Tamaranean eyes could sometimes be difficult for humans to read, but Dick knew them well, seeing every bit of love and cheerfulness they carried in that moment.

“What kept you?” Kory whispered, her tone much more serious, “I was worried.”

“I’m so sorry Kory.” Dick replied, pulling away from the embrace. “I got caught up.” He paused, reaching his hand into his pocket. “I stopped to get you some flowers on the way here, but I spotted a man trying to rob a nearby store and I had to take care of it.” 

He pulled a couple red rose petals out of his pocket, now soaking wet and mangled. Taking Kory’s hand once more, he gingerly placed them against her palm and wrapped her fingers around them. 

“Of course, Dick.” she said with an understanding smile. “You did what you had to.” She slipped the petals into her long tangled mess of wet hair. “At least some of the petals survived.”

She leaned down, and brushed a light kiss against his lips, just happy that he was here with her. After all, Dick Grayson was a good and honorable man, sometimes haunted, but always trying to do the right thing. She could never blame him for that. It was in his nature.

Dick smiled into the kiss while it lasted. The moon was over their heads, and by now the rain had slowed to a steady pitter-patter, the flames at the ends of Kory’s hair keeping them warm enough to be comfortable.

“I think the restaurant is closed by now.” Dick said. “Rain check?”

Kory nodded, but there was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. Suddenly, she lifted Dick off the ground, bursting into the lightly raining sky. She held him close, and while Dick knew that she would never drop him, he couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline flowing through his veins.

He cried out her name, laughing giddily as the city around them became smaller and smaller, the little lights becoming as small as the stars. To him, Kory was stunning, the sheer soaked-through fabric of her outfit barely covering her skin at all, her hair engulfing the two of them as she flew, leaving a line of sparks behind her wherever she went. 

The two laughed together, touching the foggy dark rain clouds, before bursting through them, where suddenly, it wasn’t raining at all. The world was quiet again. No white noise, just the two of them above the clouds in the glowing light of the full moon.

Kory held Dick as close to her body as she could, making sure he could never slip from her fingers. She laced one hand around the back of his hand, intertwining her fingers in his hair, while the other hand held him securely by the waist. Up here, above the clouds they had all the time and space in the world. The troubles and challenges of daily life were nowhere to be found up here in the air.

“I hope this is a suitable alternative to date night.” Kory said with a chuckle, twirling them around in the air as though they were dancing.

“It might be even better than a normal date night.” Dick replied with a laugh.

The two of them paused, drinking in the moment, knowing in the back of their minds that it wouldn’t last forever. 

“I love you, Dick Grayson.” Kory whispered, touching her forehead to his.

Dick smiled wide, gently taking one of his rose petals from her hair and re-positioning it behind her ear, “I love you too, Koriand’r.”

[333kaylynn]

midsummer madness - grayson dolan

a/n: I am fully aware it isn’t summer but I thought maybe this would fit a bit of a valentine’s theme. (I’ve started writing this on the 13th but I’m not sure It’ll be finished by tomorrow so please spare me if this isn’t posted on Valentine’s day. Either way, I hope you have/had a good Valentine’s day!) p.s- this isn’t edited so pls spare me

warnings: fluff, swearing, slight smut but not really, mentions of drugs + alcohol and mentions of death

word count: 5k+

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She had the entire world ahead of her and she wouldn’t dare to let anyone stop her from achieving her goals. Everyone knew it, her teachers, her siblings, her parents, her fellow classmates, everybody. It wasn’t unknown to see her at the library with her face shoved into a book. In fact, it was a new book almost every week. She wouldn’t tell anyone, but she had a huge taste for romance books. Nobody would ever find that out though. It was her dirty little secret. At that very moment, she was sitting in the quiet library, the only sound being her breathing and the paper whenever she needed to flip to the next page. The librarian loved her, sometimes even allowing her to come in before hours or after hours. Ms. Holling was the sweetest old lady, nothing like the mean librarians y/n had read about in some of her books. It made her happy that she could not only compare her books to her real-life but that she could live a life as good as her own. If she wasn’t at the library, you’d often catch her walking around by the lake, sitting on the bench that sat in the perfect spot in order to look at the lake and the sky above. If it was a nice day, she’d much rather be out there reading her book than to be stuck in the library, no matter how nice Ms. Holling was. However, this day was an icky and rainy July afternoon so she was stuck sitting cross-legged on the red leather chair in the corner of the library. Her tea from this morning sat on the table ahead of her and when her eyes weren’t glued onto the pages of her book, she would stop to look at the raindrops falling down the window. It was probably room temperature by now, her tea, and there was nothing she hated more than room temperature drinks. At least, that’s what she would tell you at that very moment as she thought about how disgusting it would taste. She would probably tell you that even if she was locked in this building for days and that’s all she had to drink, she would rather die of thirst than take even a sip. However, if you caught her at a different time, on another day, she would probably tell you she hated a completely different thing “more than anything in the world.” She looked back at her book and started reading it again. Even though y/n had her entire life ahead of her and had so many goals, she was so indecisive and had no idea where to start. That’s why you’d often catch her reading three to four books at a time.

 On Mondays, she would start by picking an adventure or action-type novel. Mondays were her least favorite day, so it isn’t surprising that she’d pick her least favorite genre. She didn’t think anything bad about it, in fact, she loved them. It just wasn’t the same as the other genres. Tuesdays- she would start reading a mystery. She loved being able to solve the mysteries herself before she ended the book like she was her very own Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes. Wednesdays were when she would start her favorite genre, romance. Even though she cringed at some of the actions the characters would do or the things they would say, she loved the sappiness of it all and she wished that one day her life could be as romantic as that. Thursdays - horror. She loved the thrill it gave her and she loved that she was able to imagine it exactly how she wanted, so she could either get scared or not get scared, depending on how she chose to view it. Finally, on Friday, you’d likely find her with her nose shoved into a contemporary novel. She felt those ones were easiest to compare with her real-life and she loved being able to compare whatever book she’s reading to the past week she just had. Saturdays and Sundays were y/n’s free-day, however, and you would often find her sitting in her room watching Netflix or Hulu or out doing something with her friends that would drag her out of her room because she was “too much of a homebody”, even though her home was more-so the library or the park than her actual home, or because she was “glued to her books.” She wouldn’t tell them they were wrong or argue with them because she knew they were right and that she needed a taste of the real world so she didn’t get mentally trapped in a fictional world. Her friends were much more extroverted than her, always wanting to go out and talk to new people and do new things. Y/n wasn’t like that. If someone talked to her she wouldn’t ignore them but she wasn’t the type to go up and start a conversation with someone she didn’t know. She’s surprised she even has the friends she does now because of how different her personality is compared to theirs. She loves them though and she often compares them to the characters of her books. Each one of them has their own personality that she loves and that she can learn new things from. Josie, with her long brown hair and tan skin, was probably the biggest party animal of the group. Every weekend she’d be out at some house party and if she wasn’t, she’d be getting into clubs and dancing with whatever guy she deemed the cutest of the night. Gabriella had the most gorgeous melanin skin tone and y/n loved looking at the way it glowed in the sunlight. She wouldn’t tell her other friends but she really did think Gabi was the prettiest of the group. She was extremely friendly and always knew what to say to make someone else feel good about themselves. Y/n loved that Gabi was not only pretty on the outside but also on the inside. She was the perfect girl, y/n thought, and any guy, or girl, would be lucky to have her. Stella, the last of the friend group, had wavy blonde hair. She wasn’t naturally blonde though and her brown roots were seen very obviously. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders and it really brought out the obviousness of her collarbones. She was an animal-loving gal and y/n felt like she was probably the closest in personality to her. Stella was usually pretty quiet until you got her to start talking. Once she started it would be extremely hard to get her to stop. This would often result in Josie telling her to shut up, Gabriella telling Josie to be nicer to Stella, and Stella arguing back. Often times, Josie and Stella would drag y/n into the argument and make her pick someone’s side. However, she would often just nod and say “mhm” to whoever was talking to her at the time. Y/n didn’t like getting involved in arguments, especially ones involved with her friends because she absolutely hated picking sides because she loved all of them equally, just in different ways. Because of this and Gabriella’s willingness to stop their arguments, the four girls were inseparable. They were together almost every day they could, oftentimes being dragged along to some of these parties Josie loved to attend. This just happened to be one of those days. After the rain would come to a stop, y/n would make her way home and she’d start getting ready for whatever crazy party Josie had planned to take them to. It wouldn’t be long until the rain stopped, possibly just another twenty minutes or so according to the weather app on her phone. It looked like it was starting to clear up a bit outside too, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. The sun soon came out and the rain came to a stop. Y/n stood up from her seat and grabbed her books and slipped her phone into her pocket. She picked up her tea from the morning with her open hand and said goodbye to Ms. Holling before walking out the heavy glass door and onto the sidewalk. She began her walk home, only taking about five to ten minutes for her to get home, depending on how many times she would stop on the way home. She would often stop to look at flowers or whatever was posted up in the glass windows of the shops throughout the main street she walked down. On the sunny days, unlike this one, she would often take twenty or so minutes to get her home because she loved soaking up the sun and getting in all the vitamin d she could. After about seven minutes, y/n was walking through her front door and taking her shoes off before she walked to her room. She set the three books she had down and walked back out to dump the small bit she had left of her tea out into the sink and she rinsed out the cup she had used and set it down before walking back into her room to get ready. She grabbed a pair of light grey joggers and rolled them up so they fit better, the size of the pants being slightly too large for her. She threw on a red cami top and put a black zip-up hoodie on over the top of it in case it would get cold later in the night. She wanted to be comfortable while also looking somewhat decent and that’s exactly what she did. She sat down by her vanity and put on some mascara and foundation, those being the only forms of makeup she wanted to wear for the night so she didn’t come home looking like too much of a trainwreck the next morning. By the time she finished her hair after doing her makeup, it was seven o’clock and Stella would be on her way with Gabi to pick her up and then they would pick Josie up after y/n. She slipped on her shoes and took her phone off of the charger before walking out of her room and out her front door, sitting on her front steps and looking through twitter on her phone for the few minutes she had left before Stella and Gabi arrived. Soon enough, Stella pulled up in her black Mazda 3 with Gabi in the passenger seat. Y/n got in behind Gabi and greeted the two girls, kissing both of their cheeks like the girls always did when they first saw each other each day. 

“What book are you reading now?” Gabriella asked, turning her body to look back at y/n. Stella looked up in the rearview mirror at y/n to show she was listening as well but soon looked back at the road ahead of her. Y/n’s face lit up when Gabriella asked her that and soon Gabi regretted asking, knowing she would probably go on and on about whatever it is she was reading. Y/n loved, however, that her friends would ask her about what she was reading even though she knew they weren’t the biggest fans of reading. “Bel Canto. I’m about three-quarters of the way through.” Y/n pauses and takes a breath and Stella nods before she continues, “It’s based on the Japanese embassy hostage crisis. It follows the relationships among a few young terrorists and the people they’re holding hostage. I’m not really sure how I feel about it yet. I am close to being finished but this book is giving me mixed feelings.” Gabriella asked her a few questions about it and the girls continued talking and quickly arrived at Josie’s house. Gabriella quickly ran up to her door and rang the doorbell, knowing Josie probably wouldn’t answer her phone if she just called her. Josie was always getting ready until the very last second. She wanted to make sure she looked immaculate. Y/n looked up after about a minute of looking down at her knees and Stella looked up from checking her phone to see Gabriella and Josie opening the doors of the car and climbing into their respective seats. Gabriella went right back to the passenger seat and Josie climbed in beside y/n. “Hello, ladies,” Josie said, bringing her hair over her right shoulder and buckling her seatbelt. “Hey, Jo, what’s up? You ready to party?” Stella asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror. Before Josie was given the option to answer, y/n spoke up, “Josie’s always ready to party.” The other three girls erupt in laughter and Josie nods, “You’re not wrong, y/n/n.” Eventually, the girls arrived at a big house in the town next to where they lived. It took only fifteen to twenty minutes for them to get there and the person who invited them told them they could just walk in, so that’s what they did. Stella was determined to be the designated driver for the night, so as soon as they went inside Josie went off to the table covered in cups and different bottles of alcohol. She poured a glass and handed it to Gabi and then poured y/n a cup. She got her own cup full and squeezed her way through some people and then y/n had lost her. Y/n and Gabi stuck by each other's sides for a few more minutes before Gabi wandered off to go dance with a group of random girls she had met. Stella was sitting down on one of the couches chatting with a guy who was apparently the designated driver for his friends. Y/n walked into the kitchen to get away from all of the people, knowing people hardly ever went into the kitchen unless it was to get a private spot to make out with their significant other or just some random girl/guy they had just met that night. She pushed herself up onto the counter and leaned against the cupboards above the counter. She kept her cup in her hands and looked around at the people in the living room. She could see them all having a good time as she looked through the archway that divided the kitchen from the living room. She looked back down at her cup and took another swig of it, only putting it down because she heard the voice of a man, very deep and raspy, he goes, “You wanted to get away from all this too?” Y/n nodded and responded with a quiet “mhm” and the guy continued, “Grayson.” He puts his hand out for her to shake and she hesitantly goes to grab it. “Y/n.” He smiles and asks her if she wanted to come to play beer pong with him, y/n laughed and agreed, jumping off the counter. Grayson takes her hand and pulled her through the group of people that had surrounded the table. The two guys Grayson was up against were setting up the cups and one of them threw Grayson a ball once they finished. “You sure you want to partner up with a girl, Gray?” He asked and as Grayson caught it he responded, “Yeah. I have faith. Plus, dude, you suck. And so does E. It can’t be hard to beat you guys.” Right as he says that, the partner of the other guy turns around. He looks exactly like Grayson so y/n just put two and two together and determined they were twins. Just as she had guessed, Grayson turns to her and tells her, “That’s my brother Ethan by the way. We’re twins. And that one,” He points at the guy that had previously bashed him for playing with a girl, “is Ryan. He’s a close friend of ours.” Y/n nods and backs up so Grayson can throw the ball. He makes it into the first cup and she started to get somewhat nervous, thinking she wouldn’t make the shot. She lined herself up and shot the ball, closing her eyes immediately after in case she missed. She didn’t want to witness her failure. Grayson erupts in cheers and picks her up and spins her around and as soon as she felt Graysons grip on her she opened her eyes. He set her down and put his hand out for a high five. The two teams played together until Grayson had finally made the winning shot. At this point, y/n and Grayson were slightly too intoxicated and they began jumping for joy at the sight of Grayson’s ball landing perfectly in the cup. Ethan and Ryan sighed at their loss but soon starting laughing at how childish and goofy Y/n and Grayson were acting. Y/n grabbed Grayson’s hand, and with her intoxicated self came her overly confident and flirty self, and pulled him so he would look at her. He leaned down to be able to hear her better and she goes, “Come dance with me. I love this song.” She smiles and gives him the puppy dog eyes, pleading that he would go dance with her. “Only because I love this song too. And you’re cute.” Y/n blushes and looks away, but soon looks back and grins, pulling him into the other group of people that had already been dancing. The pair got awfully close, Y/n grinding up against Grayson as Grayson swayed along with her, his hands placed carefully on her hips but with a firm grip. The more she moved, the more Grayson knew he wanted to fuck her. Although Y/n seemed like an innocent girl when she was at the library or the comfort of the park bench, much like her friends, she wasn’t as sinless as she had made herself out to be. Especially when she went to parties. The way her ass would grind against his crotch in the best way possible made Grayson hard and he had to keep stepping back and readjusting, not wanting to scare her away. Grayson knew that no matter how sexually frustrated he got he didn’t want to scare this one away. He felt a connection immediately and loved everything about her, even after only knowing her for a few hours. Y/n turned around and looked up at Grayson, grabbing his hands and spinning herself underneath his arm. She giggles and he smirks at her as he watches her intensely. The two keep dancing for a while before Grayson bends down to talk to her, “Wanna get another drink?” Y/n nodded and Grayson kept his hand on her lower back as the two walked through the group of people together. Grayson poured himself a glass and hands y/n the bottle and an empty cup so she can pour it herself. She bumps her cup with Grayson’s and says, “Cheers,” and the two walk away from the table of liquor and over to the couch. Y/n sees Gabriella sitting down and she takes a seat next to her and grabs her shoulder, “Gabi! Hi love. How are you doing?” Gabi looks at Y/n and says, “Pretty good. Do you wanna come to play the board game with me?” Y/n nods, knowing she’s talking about the “Let’s Get F’d Up” game a few of the other girls at the party made, “Can Grayson come to play?” Gabriella nods but then asks, “Wait, who’s Grayson?” Grayson raises his hand in response and says hello to Gabriella. Gabriella says hi back and then all three of them wander over to where the game was being held. They sit around this table with about five or six other people and the girl, who y/n assumes made the game, starts explaining the rules, “Roll the dice, land on the spot, do what it tells you. Some are self-explanatory but others aren’t. I’ll explain those on the way. If you pussy out and don’t do yours, you’re out of the game and you lose. The game finishes when there’s only one person left or when everyone reaches the finish line.” Everyone takes turns rolling the dice and doing whatever it is they had to do. Three people had finished already and everyone else was close behind. The drunkenness of everyone playing this game was through the roof. They were all stumbling their words and laughing with each other. Finally, a girl whom Y/n had discovered was named Elise, had finished the game as the final person to get across the entire board. Everyone took one last shot together and then a few of the people at the table wandered off but some stayed back. Y/n stood up but almost fell over, luckily Grayson had been there to catch her. “You a little dizzy there y/n?” Grayson chuckles, keeping his hand on her so she doesn’t fall over like she almost did the first time. She smiles and nods and then walks towards the kitchen to get away from all the sweaty people that started to migrate towards the table they were at. Grayson follows her closely behind, he didn’t want to lose her before he was able to get her number. She pushes her self onto the counter like she did earlier and holds onto her cup with both hands. Grayson and y/n are sitting together in the silence, Grayson pacing across the kitchen floor for who knows what reason. Y/n speaks up though, grabbing Grayson’s wrist and pulling him closer to her, “I’m hungry.” Grayson smiles and agrees, rubbing his stomach, “Let’s go get McDonald’s!” Y/n tilts her head to the side and asks, “Is it close? We can’t drive we have to walk.” Grayson nods and tells her it’s about a ten-minute walk and it’s a twenty-four-hour McDonald’s so they would most definitely still be open. She grins and hops off the counter and the two walk out the kitchen and through the living room. Eventually, they make their way out the front door and they’re on their way to McDonald’s. The two are messing around together and singing their favorite songs, telling each other secrets they never could have imagined telling anyone else, and just overall having the time of their lives. After the two get to McDonald’s, order their food, and eat it in the span of twenty minutes, they’re on their way back to the house. They stumble back in the front door and everyone’s still dancing along to the music, smoking, and drinking as if nobody noticed they had left. They made their way to the couch and Grayson sat down, patting his left thigh when he noticed the rest of the couch was taken up and y/n had nowhere to sit. She sat down on him and he put his hand on her side. She smirked to herself, knowing Grayson couldn’t see her. She wouldn’t admit this but she did love the attention. Y/n sits silently as Grayson talks to his friends, only listening to small parts of the conversation. She felt a slight tap on her shoulder and she looks over to see Stella standing there, “Hey, you ready to leave? Josie’s with some guy right now but I say she’ll be ready to go in about twenty minutes and Gabi’s ready to go now.” Y/n nods and says she’ll either still be here or in the kitchen in the next twenty minutes so Stella could find her in one of those spots. Stella nods and walks off to go find Gabriella again. Grayson looks at the girl on his lap, “Gotta go soon?” Y/n nods and gives him a slight frown, “Twenty minutes.” Grayson moves a bit and the two of them get up, “Well that means I have twenty minutes to talk to you. Come back to the kitchen with me so I can talk to you and we can have a less public conversation.” The two walk off and back into the kitchen where they had gone many times on this particular evening. Y/n sat right back on the counter where she had every other time and Grayson sat on the island across from her. The two began talking about their lives and asking each other lots of questions. Eventually, the talking led to flirting and Grayson had hopped off the counter and squeezed himself in between y/n’s legs. He stood there while she sat up on the counter, his hands resting on her thighs. They didn’t do anything for a minute, just took in what was happening. Y/n grabbed his hands and put them down farther, signaling that what he was doing was okay. He gripped her thighs and pulled her closer to him, only moving his hand for a second to fix her hair but then soon putting it back where it was before. He kissed her intensely and it ended up leading to a super intense make-out session. Y/n had never been kissed like that before, honest to god, she’d tell you. “When you’re done making out we gotta go!” Gabi yelled as she stood in the archway. Y/n pulled away from Grayson but kept their foreheads touching, she smiled and giggled a bit, “I gotta go.” Grayson grabs her hands and backs up, “At least let a guy get your number first? I wanna be able to see you again.” He hands her his phone and she adds her number into his contacts, changing the name to “Y/n/n <3.″ She hands his phone back to him and he looks at it quickly and grins before shutting his phone off and putting it in his pocket. “I’ll text you tomorrow.” He pulls her in for a hug and then backs away so she can walk out to leave with her friends. She gets out the door and walks to Stella’s car, where all three other girls are sitting in it chatting it up. As soon as y/n opens the car door the girls ask her a bunch of questions, “Jeez. We were expecting Josie to come out last, not you.” Stella says, laughing. “Yeah! Who was the guy?” Gabriella asks, smirking at y/n and Josie nods, showing that she also wanted to know the answer to Gabi’s question. “His name is Grayson. He asked for my number before I left.” “Well did you give it to him?” Stella asks, turning down the street as the streetlight turned green. “Duh!” “Does he have any brothers?” Gabi asks. Y/n nods, “A twin, actually. He was at the party. His name is Ethan. I’ll see if I can hook ya’ll up.” Y/n chuckles and winks at Gabriella. The four of them arrive back at Gabriella’s apartment, her being the only one that lived alone. With the girls being as drunk as they were, showing up to a house accompanied by one of their parents probably wouldn’t be the best decision. They all managed to make their way inside quickly and safely, all hopping straight to bed, Stella and Gabi sharing her bed and Y/n and Josie snuggled on the couch together, thank God Gabi had a big enough couch to fit the both of them. 

It had been a month since the party where y/n and Grayson met and they had been texting and getting a lot closer, hanging out quite often and texting almost every second. Y/n still continued her journeys to the library and/or park every day but she was much more distracted than usual with Grayson on her mind. She walked to the park and texted Grayson, telling him she wanted to hang out again. He texted her back and told her he’d come to wherever she was and she told him she was at the park. Grayson had been with her there plenty of times before. Y/n sat patiently as she waited for Grayson. He arrived soon enough and she looked up and smiled immediately as she saw him. He walks around the bench and stands in front of her, pulling her up. “We should swim.” He suggests, taking his shirt off and walking towards the lake. “I don’t have a swimsuit.” Y/n says, shaking her head and laughing at Grayson. “Where my shirt and you’ll be just fine.” He tilts his head towards his shirt he had thrown on the grass and y/n laughs, changing into Grayson’s shirt and slowly getting into the water. The two swam together and talked a lot like they always did. “You should come over!” Grayson suggests, getting really excited at his idea. Y/n nods and tells him she will, so the two of them spent maybe another ten to fifteen minutes in the water before getting out and heading to Grayson’s Bronco. The two hop into the car and Grayson turns on Kid Cudi. Y/n wasn’t surprised by this, Grayson always had either Kid Cudi or Cub Sport on. They arrive back at Grayson’s soon enough and due to their constant flirting the car ride back, Grayson wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless and y/n wanted nothing more than that either. Grayson basically pulled her into the house and immediately pushed her up against the front door. The two began feverishly making out but y/n soon pulled away, “Isn’t Ethan home?” She breathed heavily, Grayson still sucking on her neck. He looks up, “Shit. Come with me. Be quiet.” Grayson picks her up and brings her to his bedroom, closing the door and locking it. He sets her down on his bed and climbs above her, slowly bringing his weight down onto her but not too much so he would make sure not to crush her. Y/n knew she needed him right away but Grayson wouldn’t be so quick to oblige. He wanted to take his time on her. He kept making out with her, moving down to her neck and pulling at her shirt. She sat up and took it off, revealing the pink Calvin Klein bra she had on underneath her shirt. He went down and starting leaving hickies all over her chest. He sat up and pulled her pants off, leaving her vulnerable in nothing but her bra and underwear. Grayson loved the sight in front of him. He brought his hand down to her panties, rubbing her in the best way possible. Y/n had to stay quiet but Grayson would make sure she felt better than she had ever felt. Y/n, of course, had to return the favor to Grayson. She didn’t want Grayson to be the only one doing the hard work. As soon as Grayson finished her off, she got down on her knees and put his dick in her hands, sucking him off. Grayson’s grunting and moans made y/n know that she was doing a good job and she loved the sound of it. She finishes him off and they lay down on Grayson’s bed together, y/n head against Grayson’s chest. “Who knew the innocent little library girl could be so naughty?” Grayson says, killing the silence. “We met at a party, Grayson. I got wasted. So did you. Did you forget?” Y/n laughs and looks up at Grayson. He smiles and shakes his head, “I know this might not be the right timing but will you go out with me? Like, be my girlfriend?” Y/n smiles and nods, “I just wish you would’ve asked me a lot sooner.” 

Grayson knew he was in love with y/n from the moment he met her. He never believed in love at first sight until he met her. Now, to be sitting in his firm-fitted black suit at his girlfriend’s funeral, he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He felt like everything good had been taken from him and that he had nothing left to give to this world. He held a singular flower in his hand and sat in the front next to her parents and Josie, Gabriella, and Stella. Everyone was silent, listening to the priest give his speech on her life. Grayson knew y/n wasn’t that religious but her parents were and that’s why there was a priest. At the end of the ceremony, Grayson walked up to her casket and set the flower down. It was a daisy, he remembered her telling him it was her favorite, her exact words being, “I like the daisy because it’s pretty popular like the rose but whenever someone asks you to name their favorite flower they say rose and nobody ever says daisy. I feel bad for it!” He remembers that moment perfectly, in fact, he remembers every moment with y/n. The way her eyes would light up when she would talk about her books, the way she got nervous whenever she would talk to his family even though they had met plenty of times before, and the way she spoke so kindly to everyone she met. Grayson loved that about her. 

[bensroger]

To The Man Who Loved Her First - Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor

Summary: You lost some near and dear to you and you know you have to move on but you can’t. Over the years, you’ve been picking up these pieces, but it’s hard. It’s hard to wake up with the man you planned to spend the rest of your life with, just gone. When Roger comes into your life as more than just someone you work for, things finally change for the better. You want to start a new life with him, but it’s hard when you haven’t completely moved on from the man you loved first.

Word Count: 4600

Warnings: Mentions of someone dying, Swearing

A/N: This one is super emotional and there’s a lotta tears. I hope you don’t find this boring. I didn’t give the reader’s former fiance a name, because I want you to give him a name. I want him to be your character, I want you to create him so you can feel the emotion of this fic. Normally I try and stay away from any fics that involve people getting gravely injured but I really wanted to write this, because it’s not a story of loss, but a story of healing. With that, I present to you my favorite fic to date, and I hope you love it as much I do.

You awoke to soft sheets, and the morning light trickled in through the blinds. Shedding youryself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, your eyes were still shut as you soaked in the warmth of your covers.Slowly and reluctantly, you uncovered your face. You blinked your eyes, closed your eyes, and then blinked again. Streaks of sunlight penetrated the window still and blinded you.

You turned your head to find your boyfriend, Roger, still asleep beside you, his blonde curls a mess. He had an arm wrapped around your waist, and pulled you closer to him sometime during the night. Roger was still fast asleep, and you knew he must’ve got home from the studio late last night. You always hated when he stayed out late—especially if it was raining—it worried you so much. You gave him one last look as you felt his breath against you. You would’ve stayed like this for the rest of the if you had a choice.  That was one thing about Roger; he would always pull you toward him and keep you close to him during the night. You loved it except for when it burning hot outside.

You let out a sigh as you rolled over to face him, but careful enough not to wake him. You gently moved his hair out of his face, smiling softly as you did so. Before you slithered your way out of bed, you gave him a gently kiss on the cheek. As you sat on the edge of the bed, you turned your head to the left, looking the two framed photos on your nightstand. The photo closest to you, and the larger photo was a picture of you and Roger. It was taken while he was on tour, and it was just you and him backstage. However, the memory will always be special to you because it was the night Roger told you for the first time he loved you. That was two years ago.

The other framed photo was a picture of and the man that you had fallen in love with back when you were sixteen. He was your first love. It was a photo booth strip of you and him, taken on the night he proposed to you. You had been dating for four years, and he took you to the carnival where you had your first date. If you were honest, the first date with him was awful; there was not really any chemistry between you and it was awkward… But as your relationship continued, it changed, and you’d often look back on that horrible first date and laugh.

And when he proposed, down one knee in front of the bright ferris wheel, a gold ring with a small diamond in the middle, your heart stopped, because there was nothing you wanted more. You didn’t want anything else but to marry the man you had loved since you were sixteen. So, you of course said yes, your highschool boyfriend became your fiance, and you planned to spend the rest of your life with him.

And for a year, things were perfect. You were going to marry the love of your life, and you had recently gotten a new job working for an up and coming band—Queen. Your fiance had even gotten a really well-paying job himself, although it was an agonizing commute and you saw him less. His job kept him pretty busy, and you soon found that it was rarer now that you two would have the night off together.

You two fought a lot more than you had before, and it made you sad. He’d always come home later and later than usual, to the point where you hardly saw him. When the anniversary of when you two made your relationship official rolled around, you knew he had something big planned so you put his favorite red dress on, curled your hair, did your makeup, and waited… It was really rainy that night, so you figured his commute would take longer than usual, but he never came home. With tears running down your face, you ripped off your stupid dress and wiped your makeup off, and then you went to bed. You couldn’t fall asleep.

The rain had picked up, and changed from a light drizzle to a hard pitter patter against your small shared-apartments windows. It was nearly 1AM when you began to worry. You got out of bed and began pacing around your living room, your feet growing cold against the hardwood floor. What if he went home with another woman, or if he was going to leave you? Looking back at the ordeal, you were worried for the wrong reasons.

A loud knock at exactly 1:34 AM brought you out of your thoughts. You’d remember the next few moments for the rest of your life, because there was nothing quite like it… You frowned once you heard the knock, but your frown transformed into a scowl once you realized it had to be your fiance at the door. So, you opened the door with a, “I swear to God if ever pull shit like that again we’re not getting married.” You grumbled as you opened the door.

But when you opened the door, you weren’t met with the face of your fiance. It was two cops. An older, bald one stood before you, an expression of pity rested on his face. In his arms, he was holding pink carnations. Your mouth hung open, and you knew this was nothing good. Your eyes began to fill with tears. “This is about my fiance, isn’t it?”

The cop just nodded. “Please… Please tell me he’s okay.” You choked out, not even caring about the tears that had begun to roll down your face. Your chest tightened and you felt like the world around was collapsing.

The man in front of you held the pink carnations out to you. You looked at the flowers, shaking your head… As if flowers would possibly console you. “I’m sorry ma’am, he was in a terrible accident and… He had passed on by the time we arrived to the scene.” The policeman looked you dead in the eyes, and tears in his own eyes. “We found these flowers in the passenger seat…” He said trying to hand them to you again, and this time you took them.

That’s when you realized—He got in the accident on the way home from getting you these flowers… Stupid flowers for your stupid anniversary… You only nodded to the cops before closing the door behind and taking exactly two steps before it hit you.

You let the beautiful and untouched bouquet of pink carnations hit the ground, giving way to gravity. A few seconds later, you fell to your knees and cried as if the ferocity of it might bring him back; as if by the sheer force of her grief the news would be undone. He was yours, your only love and he could not be gone. But he was, and you weren’t sure how to move on.

You couldn’t count the amount of days you spent in bed after that, the amount of days you spent crying. It was hard to move on without him, move on from the life you had planned for him…

It was a few weeks before you finally went back to work. It was an early morning in the studio, and you cried the night before. It was all you seemed to be able to do now. You hadn’t told anyone yet about your fiance’s passing, not even the band. Of course, they hadn’t really noticed any change with you yet. You had always been really shy and reserved, so they thought everything was just the same.

You came into the studio with four coffees in the tray, and passed them out to the boys. You were friends with all of them, but not particularly close to anyone. You hadn’t said anything at all this morning, or done anything unnatural. You just needed to move on with your life, and needed to continue as if nothing had changed. And that was the thing you could count on at work; nothing changed. They didn’t look at you like the poor girl who had just lost the man she planned to marry, they looked at you as the same old Y/N.

You let out a shaky breath as you handed out there coffees, trying not to even look at the engagement ring that still sat upon your finger. Things were normal here. The boys were borderline arguing about some song that would have to get cut for their upcoming album, and you allowed yourself to smile out of relief.

Things continued like this for awhile—You kept to yourself while they’d be talking, rarely acknowledging you, but not in a rude way, just because you never talked much yourself. However, one person actually noticed the change in your demeanor—It was the way you carried yourself and your expressions. You always looked tired and sad now, and you hardly ever smiled anymore. Roger knew to begin with you were a quiet person, but it had never been this bad. He wanted to ask what was going on for so long, but he knew it wasn’t his place. It wasn’t until lunch on a sunny day that he had figured it out.

Everyone who had worked with the band went out lunch to celebrate them finishing their album, and of course you were invited. So, you attended because there was something distracting and relieving about being with them compared to the despair and emptiness that would wash over you whenever you’d walk into your once-shared apartment.

The restaurant was a somewhat fancy one, with pure white tablecloths and little flowers in vases. It was a small thing that set you off; Upon being seated, right in the middle of the circular table sat a singular pink carnation in a vase.

Everyone else sat down, and frowned as your froze in place. As much as you wanted to break down and cry right there, you didn’t. Tears welled up in your eyes and you whispered out, “Excuse me.” And headed straight to the bathroom.

What you didn’t know was that someone followed you to the bathroom, despite Deaky’s warning not to follow you and to give you space. He of course, didn’t listen. You were leaning on the bathroom sink looking in the mirror trying to calm yourself down. It had been nearly two months now since your fiance passed away, but you were still trying to pick up the pieces.

Your head snapped as the door swung open, and you saw Roger standing in the doorway a concerned look on his face. It was the ladies bathroom, but you suspected by his entrance that he didn’t really care. You looked up at him with your red nose and tear-stained cheeks. You weren’t sure what to say to him, so you stood there was a frown on your face. Roger was the one to break the silence and you were the one to break your gaze.

“Are you alright Y/N?” He said softly. This wasn’t what you expected from Roger—A man known for being a playboy and snarky being kind and caring toward you—but it was nice to know he cared.

You let out a fake laugh and shook your head. “I’m perfectly fine, I’m not sure what got into me back there.” You smiled at him nervously. Roger’s expression didn’t change however.

“You don’t have to lie to me you know… I don’t know what’s going on but I’m here for you Y/N. I can tell by the pained expression you walk around with everyday that you’re barely there. Please just tell me, are you alright?” Roger whispered softly, and your lip started to tremble.

And it was a question people had been asking your for weeks, and you had lied to them each time when you smiled and nodded. But as you looked at Roger in the eyes, you could he was truly concerned and only wanted to help you. And one look at the ring you wore on your finger sent you into a fit of sobs, and before you knew, Roger had enveloped you in his arms and said nothing as you cried into his chest.

That was the day Roger found out that you had lost the love of your life, and it was a few days before you told anyone else around you what had happened. Roger didn’t treat you like the sad, delicate, broken girl everyone thought you to be. He began to treat you like a friend, and found himself talking to you more often.

He kept it like that for two whole years, two whole years before he told you about his feelings for you, because he knew you needed time and wanted to give you it. In the meantime, Roger always looked out for you and kept you pretty close. You even grew closer to other members of Queen, and they were welcoming and warm to you. They made you happy, made you laugh in ways you hadn’t in awhile. He’d take you to parties, and even to some of his shows. Of course he still had his hookups, and you didn’t mind it until one day… It made anger bubble up as you saw some skinny blonde cuddled up to him at a party.

And it was then you realized that you had begun to love someone else, and it scared you. You tried to run from it, tried to stay away from Roger and push him away, but he knew what was going on—at least most of what was going on. You had been avoiding him for a week when he finally came to your apartment himself, a sad look on his face. His breath was visible in the cold air, and it was pouring outside. Rain was something you once loved but now despised.

“Why have you been avoiding me Y/N?” Roger said, his voice cracking at your name. Your heart broke inside your chest and you broke your gaze, looking down at your feet. “I… I’ve been trying to help you for so long, I’ve been your friend and I don’t want to lose you…” He whispered, causing you to finally look up, tears in your own eyes.

Your was trembling but you admitted in a whisper, “Because I think I love you.” You looked at him for a moment before looking back at your feet. “And I don’t want to betray—”

“Y/N, you’re not betraying anyone. It’s okay for you to move on, you’re healing, it’s okay. I love you too.” He said, pulling you close to him.

And you were scared—scared because you told yourself you could never love again, told yourself there was no way you’d be able to get past this. Here you were, learning to allow yourself to love again. Somedays, you felt guilty when your fingers with intertwined with Roger’s.

Roger gave you all the time you needed, and he knew it was hard for you. He knew that what you had with your former fiance was amazing, it was a type of love you could never forget. Roger knew he couldn’t love you in the same way he did, but Roger would still love you just as much.

Day by day, you let little parts of him go, and of course there were days when it was harder, like your former fiance’s birthday or the anniversary of his passing. Sometimes you’d find an old picture or one of his old shirts. Sometimes his mom would even call you (who you had asked if it was okay to move on, and she was more than happy to see you healing). Roger was different from him in a few ways—he was always made sure to take care of you, but there were times when he was on tour and you didn’t get to see him. His lifestyle was a lot different, and he was a bit more wild. However, you never fought with Roger like you did him, and if you did, you resolved it quickly.

So, here you were, six years since the passing of the man you had given your heart to when you were sixteen, and two years since you had began to date the man who had your heart now. You were lucky to have had to great loves in your life, and you were grateful for the time spent with the both of them. Now, you look back on your time with your former fiance with happiness, not sadness or grief.

You stared at the photos as your feet dangled off of your shared bed with Roger as he lied asleep next to you. Your old engagement ring that you hadn’t worn in three years sat next to the photo frame. There was a slight aching in your chest, and there always would be, but you were happy. Roger stirred next to you, and a few seconds later murmured, “Good morning beautiful.” And opened his eyes to look at you. You leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. You stood up, wearing only one of Roger’s old shirts, and it ended just above your knees. Your pulled your messy hair into an equally messy bun. Roger stretched his arms above his head before sitting up in only his sweats. Roger’s blonde curls a mess as well, but he didn’t bother. He rested his head on the crook of your neck. “Do you think we could make omelets?” He murmured.

You let out a small laugh. “You love your omelets don’t you?” And you could feel him nod. “Alright, but you’re the one cleaning the kitchen.”

You could hear Roger groan behind you. “Fine.”

You quickly showered, and threw on a white button up sweater with jeans, followed by a dainty gold necklace with pearls on it. You hair was loose and wavy, and you didn’t really bother with it. When you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw Roger was wearing a red button up with a black shirt underneath, and you smirked. “What?” He frowned.

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “You look good is all.”

Once in the kitchen, you were dancing as some music played in the background, a song you didn’t really recognize, but Roger seemed to as he was singing along. When he saw you dancing, looking straight at you, he tried to give you a disapproving look by hiding his smile, but eventually gave in once a wide grun erupted on his face. Roger ran toward you and lifted you up, spinning you around slowly and you let out a loud laugh.  You advanced, retreated, pirouetted, your arms waving from side to side above your head, your head swaying, and Roger let out a low chuckle and you only smiled back. His dances were just a dorky as yours, and this was a moment you’d always remember with him. It was a simple thing—dancing in the kitchen before breakfast—but you loved it.

You were both gathering the ingredients for the omelets. “Can you get the eggs?” Roger said, as he reached up high to get some spices down.

“Mhm.” You mumbled. You opened up your fridge, and reached into the open the egg carton. When you opened and reached to grab an egg, you froze. There was a gold ring inside of it, a large diamond in the middle of it in the shape of a heart. Your mouth fell open. “Rog?” You whispered in disbelief, and turned around only to find him down on one knee, grinning widely at you.

“I know the ring is meant to be in my hand, but it’s in the carton, so I suppose this will be enough.” Roger laughed nervously, looking up at you. “But I love you Y/N. And I understand you’ve been through things, you know love and you know loss. I know I’m not him, but I also know I can love you just as much.”

You gaped at him tears in your eyes. You struggled to find words, and just let out a shaky breath. And before you knew it, you were walking toward the door, grabbing your keys and leaving. You wished you could’ve told him, but before you told him anything, you had to do one thing.

You had to say goodbye and finally let go.

You headed up the grassy to hill of the graveyard, dark clouds looming overhead, and made a stop when you say his name. You gave him a sad smile, tears in your eyes. You placed a bouquet of pink carnations down. There was another bouquet of flowers there, probably from his mother. You remembered when the dirt was fresh, and watching the grass grow over his grave over time.

You kneeled at his grave, not caring about the damp soil staining your jeans. You folded your hands in your lap as you pursed your lips. “I’m sorry.” You sighed out, your voice shaky. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to marry you, and I’m sorry we never got to grow old… But, I’m thankful. I’m thankful for meeting you, for knowing you in your short time life… I’m thankful that you showed me how to love. And I’ve started to love again. I will always love you…” You paused, trying to imagine in his face where his name was engraved. Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks, and you bit your lip as you looked up to the sky, trying to stop crying. “But I will always love Roger too… You haven’t met him, but I know you’d like him because he cares about just as much you did. I hope if you can see me, I hope you’re… You’re proud of me, and that you’re happy wherever you are, because I am. I am happy.” You said, nodding your head and smiling, trying not to cry again. “So, this is me letting you go. This is me letting the last piece of you go because I’m getting married.” You said, and a sobbed escaped, and you pressed your hand to your mouth as you sat there as sobbed.

It began to rain a little bit, and you felt as if it was sign, but not a bad when. You looked up to the sky, the rain mixing with your tears. The wind began to pick up, blowing the flowers from his mother over. That’s when you saw it. It was an envelope and written on it was: To The Man Who Loved Her First

With shaky hands, you picked it up. It wasn’t sealed, so you were able to pull it out easily and start reading it. Your hands shook as you did so, your tears falling onto the paper along with the rain.

To The Man Who Loved Her First.

You don’t know me because I never had the honour of meeting you, and for that I am truly sorry. From what Y/N tells me, you were an amazing and funny human being, who always put others first. She says we had a lot in common too, except you played guitar while I played drums.

But I’m not writing this to tell you of how we could’ve been friends. I’m writing this to thank you. To thank you for taking care of Y/N before I met her, because we all know she needs someone to look out for her… That girl is a mess, but I love her. I know she doesn’t want you to feel like a bump on the way to me, and I get that. I don’t want her to feel like that either.

I’m planning on proposing to her soon, and I’m really nervous. I’m thinking of doing this surprise thing, but I’m not sure if she’ll like it. Were you this nervous when you proposed to her?

What I’m really trying to say in this letter is that, I’ve got her now. I can look out for her, and I will watch out for her. You can rest easy now, because she’s safe. I know she loves me, she loves me a lot. But I know she loves you, and she always will.

I know she’s happy with me, but she also really misses you.

With all of that said, thank you for being there when I couldn’t be, and thank you for guiding her.

Roger Taylor.

You were still crying, and you sniffed as you let out a happy laugh. The rain stopped and for a moment, the clouds parted as the sun was able to peek through a little bit. You gently folded the letter back into the envelope, and you let yourself smile finally.

You kissed your hand and pressed it to his tombstone before standing up and dusting the dirt off of your knees. You took one last glance before you headed back down the hill to your car.

Once you returned to your apartment, you stood in front of your door with your keys in your hand, nervous.

When Roger heard the door start to open, his head snapped toward the door, and right to you, and he had a sad look on his face. Roger gazed at you for a moment before looking away. He was sitting on the couch, his shoulders slumped as he played with the ring in between his fingers.

You walked over to him and sat next to him. “Yes.” You whispered, as you grabbed his cheek to face him toward you.

Roger frowned. “Yes… Yes what? What are you talking about?”

“Yes Roger Taylor, I’ll marry you…” You said, starting to smile, and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Are you sure? Because the way you ran out like that makes me think-”

“I just had to say goodbye.” You said softly. “I had to let him go.”  You said, a sad but happy smile forming on your face.

Roger just grinned and shook his head. “You could’ve led with that you know… I thought you walked out and that was a big no.”

“As if I could handle losing another man I love…” You kissed his cheek, and held out your hand to him, and he slipped the beautiful ring onto your finger. “I hope it doesn’t smell like eggs…” You joked.

“Speaking of, we never got to finish out omelets, but it’s nearly lunch now…” Roger said.

“Well, omelets for lunch then?” You suggested, and Roger let out a victorious yes. You gave him one last smile. “I love you, Rog.”

“I love you too Y/N.” He grinned from ear to ear.

[soulofatiny]

No fear, I’m here...Ch.5: brother

-a|n: ahhh, it’s finally here. happy reading! 

-word count: 3k

Ch.6

masterlist

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“What about the car?” you asked.

“Leave it. We don’t need it.”

You and Yunho walked side by side as you finally matched his pace until you both arrived at your run-down studio apartment. The entirety of the walk consisted of utter silence as you both didn’t speak a single word. You unlocked your apartment door and turned to face Yunho who was waiting behind you.

“You can stay out here, I really don’t have a lot of stuff…” 

Yunho looked at you for a moment and you were about to repeat what you’ve just said but he walks past you, inviting himself in as he muttered, “It’s fine.” 

As Yunho walked in, he observed your place, stunned. It was definitely minimal... Not the type of minimalist sense of style that he was used to back at the mansion. It was the type of minimal with lack of care in oneself. The apartment was spotless. Not in the way of cleanliness but more so that there wasn’t even an opportunity for it to get untidy. He couldn’t find a single drop of character within the place you resided in all these years, only a mattress without its frame and two wardrobes that were aligned side by side. 

It was cold and lonely. 

He heard you speak up from behind him, “I told you.” 

Yunho opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by you, “It’s fine. This is how I like it.”

But Yunho didn’t believe you. It’s not that you liked it. He knew that this is just how you’ve lived your entire life and didn’t know how to live any other way. 

“Why do you have two wardrobes though?” he asked, thinking about how it’s odd to see two in this tiny apartment. 

“One is for clothes, the other is for weaponry.” 

“That doesn’t really hide your weapons well if someone comes…”

“I just like to keep things tidy,” you answered him all so monotonously, as you began to pack your things.

Yunho also noticed how back at the mansion, you at least showed a small bit of personality but here… it felt like he was speaking to a robot, completely lifeless. He saw that you did have a variety of clothes and makeup but not much, most likely just to seem like a “normal” civilian if anyone saw you.

He continued to observe you as you closed your one single luggage, and turned to face him, “Let’s go.” 

You walked out the door, and Yunho followed. When you both reached outside, Yunho took your suitcase but you still had a firm grip on it. 

“I can carry it,” you slightly snapped.

“I’ll carry it. It’s what I came here for anyways and Hongjoong will get mad at me if I didn’t do anything,” Yunho replied as he shook your grasp off from the luggage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hyung… aren’t they taking a little too long?” Yeosang questioned to Hongjoong as all the members are currently gathered at the living room, summoned by Hongjoong because he wanted to hold a meeting regarding something but they were all waiting for you and Yunho to return so they can begin.

“I bet they killed each other. I told you guys this wasn’t a good idea,” Jongho spoke up.

“I tried calling Yunho but he won’t pick up…” Seonghwa also fretted but Hongjoong remained silent. 

‘Maybe we should go look for them?-”

“No.”

All of the members turned to Hongjoong as Yeosang tried to reason with him, “But hyung, I think we should go look-”

“No,” the leader spoke decisively, “Yunho may not care for her as much as the rest of us do but he’ll never let anything happen to her. Trust him more.”

The members murmured in agreement but the atmosphere was still filled with worry. Even Hongjoong looked concerned despite trying his best not to project it to the others. 

The room was filled with silence but full of inner thoughts until everyone’s heads turned to you and Yunho when you both suddenly walked in.  

“Hey! What took you guys so long?” Wooyoung called out to you both.

“We walked there so it just took a little longer than expected,” Yunho answered back. 

“You guys walked there? Why?” San questioned to you both. You fell stiff because even you didn’t understand why Yunho suddenly decided to walk halfway there.

“Why not? Less pollution,” Yunho stated curtly and everyone gave questioning looks at him.

All the members definitely wanted to pry for the real reason but when they observed your quiet nature and Yunho sending silent signals with his eyes to not ask, they dropped it immediately, hiding their curiosity. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re both back here safely either way. I actually wanted to hold a meeting so we were all waiting for you both to come home so we could begin.”

You looked at the leader and finally spoke for the first time since you both arrived back the mansion, “A meeting?”

Hongjoong nodded, “Yeah, and since everyone is here now. I’ll begin.” 

Each member gave their leader their undivided attention as he continued, “Since we have a new member now, I want us to meet at the training room so we can all train together for the entirety of this week. I want us to observe each other’s movements so when we all go on a mission together, we’ll be perfectly synced. We’ll meet in the basement at 8 am. I don’t want to see anyone late,” Hongjoong scanned Wooyoung as he said the last sentence, definitely indirectly calling out his younger member’s sleeping habits. 

“I know, I know~ you don’t have to worry about me,” Wooyoung responded. 

“Maybe if you stopped oversleeping then no one would have to worry about you,” San joked with him, earning a stifled laugh from all of the members. 

You still couldn’t comprehend how they were able to joke around and always laugh even during a supposedly time of a “meeting”. If they were to do something like this back at your organization, they would’ve been dead long ago… You didn’t know why, but something about that made you feel extremely nauseous. 

As you were lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice how Yunho was observing you, much like he did all day. 

“SO-“ Hongjoong brought everyone’s attention back to him once again, “So, we will start fresh tomorrow morning. Meeting dismissed!”

Everyone retreated to their rooms one by one while Mingi and Hongjoong went to his office, most likely to discuss the plan for the week. 

“Thanks for the help,” you mumbled at Yunho as you took your luggage from him and retreated to the guest bedroom. By now, everyone was gone from the living room except for Yunho and Yeosang, who was looking at him expectantly. 

“So, what really happened today?” Yeosang asked as Yunho relaxed on the leather sofa next to him. 

“It seemed like she didn’t like riding cars so we walked. That’s all.”

“Hmm. That’s all?”

“Yup.”

“So you guys walked all the way to her apartment because you were concerned about her not liking to ride cars?”

“No, I wasn’t concerned. I just did it.”

Yeosang glanced at Yunho, who closed his eyes and sunk into the couch more. He couldn’t tell if Yunho was being oblivious or just…stupid so he simply continued to stare at Yunho.

“Stop looking at me like that. I swear I just did it because I felt like it,” Yunho opened one of his eyes slightly to peek at Yeosang who was smiling at him cheekily. Yunho sighed loudly as he stood up from the couch and walked in the opposite direction from where their rooms were at.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go get the car…” 

Yeosang stared at Yunho until his figure disappeared from his field of vision, unable to hide his grin, “I knew you would’ve ended up caring for her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you took a warm shower, still not completely used to the overly spacious bathroom, your body felt heavy as you dragged yourself underneath the covers and your body gradually immersed within the bed. You didn’t understand why, but you’ve felt unwanted memories suffocating you ever since going to your apartment. Little by little, you finally dozed into your temporary rest.

—

The sunlight soaked through your closed eyelids, alerting yourself awake. You opened your eyes and saw a vast deep blue sky before you as the clouds flowed where the wind was taking them.

You sat up and questioned where you were. How did I end up on the ground?-

“Nana!”

You quickly stood up and desperately looked around to find the owner of the familiar voice. Who was calling you?

“Nana! There you are!” 

You turned around and saw Set running towards you. Ah…that voice. That’s right, it was Set’s. You must have been dreaming about your memories again.

“Nana, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

You smiled at your brother and pointed up at the sky, “Look Set! The sky is almost as blue as Professor’s shoes!”

Set looked up and mimicked your smile as he put his hand on top of your head, “Yeah, it’s beautiful but Nana, look at the ground. I’ll teach you another color.” 

You looked down anticipatingly, “The grass?”

“Yup. It’s green.”

“Green…” you repeated the name of your new knowledge of the color. A gush of wind picked up as it danced with the grass, tickling your legs and imprinting your memories of the color green. 

Much like this, Set taught you many more colors. 

Purple from the grapes you both ate for lunch.

Yellow from the sun you both gazed at until the sun eventually began retiring for the day and gradually shifted to orange. 

The same type of orange as the chair you and Set sat on as he read aloud many books you both enjoyed.

Ever since learning about colors, you became more aware of the beauty of your surroundings. As much as you loved learning, Set loved teaching you.

On one particularly rainy day, you and Set were sitting on the orange chairs as you both stared out the window. You intensely observed each raindrop as it hit the glass, but Set was observing the gate outside that surrounded the perimeter of the facility. He gazed beyond the confining premises... 

A siren sounded you and Set’s room suddenly, gaining both of your attention.

“Ah, dinner’s ready. Come on, Nana. Let’s go.” 

You nodded and got up as you head towards the door. Set took one last look at the gates and then followed you out the door. 

As you and Set entered the cafeteria, you both gained looks from the others who resided in the facility. Mealtime was the only time when all ten of you gathered, but you’ve never spoken to each other before as it was against the rules. Occasionally, they would share a quick smile with you as you would do for them. It became an unspoken rule for all of you to do so to show acknowledgment within one another. You and Set sat down on one of the unoccupied tables. 

Set noticed you grinning instead of eating your beef stew.

“Whatcha grinning about, Nana?”

“I’m just really happy to be here. I hope I can be here with you forever.”

Set’s heart cracked a little upon hearing what you’ve said and mumbled, more to himself, “This isn’t how we should live…”

“What?”

“Nothing… you should eat your stew before it gets cold.” 

You nodded, taking the spoon to take a bite but you paused, “Set, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Set answered as he gave you his attention.

“C-Can I maybe call you brother? I’ve read it in books before where the younger sibling calls the older one brother or sister. I know we’re the same age but since you got here before me, I see you as my older brother and I’ve always wanted to call you that...” you slightly fidgeted nervously, uncertain about how he would feel about the idea.

Set smiled deeply, a true smile that was caused by genuine happiness. 

“Of course you can!” he answered as he reached over the table and put his hand on your head, patting it gently. 

You beamed at his acceptance, “Thank you, brother!”

—

You felt the sunlight soaking through your eyelids once again and opened your eyes, back to reality. 

How long has it been before I felt the same type of happiness I’ve felt during that time? You questioned to yourself.

Where was your brother…?

After taking a few more motionless moments, you got up to get ready. It was the first day of training with the others and you didn’t know what to expect but this was the perfect opportunity to give the intel that your boss required of you. You changed into your black athletic wear and head out to go to the basement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you were nearing your destination, you heard a deafening yell coming from the basement along with a unique high pitched laugh that followed with it.

“Jongho! Stop hitting the punching bag like that! You’re gonna break your knuckles,” you heard coming from a familiar voice.

You guessed it was most likely Wooyoung’s and saw that your inkling was right when you entered the training room with Wooyoung collapsed on the floor with laughter and Jongho striking his fists on the punching bag at an abnormally fast pace. The others were spread out sporadically in different areas, honestly, it surprised you that they were all present even though there was still 15 minutes before the promised time. Mingi and Seonghwa were having a combat match while Hongjoong observed them. Yeosang was sitting on the benches on the sideline, laughing at Jongho and Wooyoung. San was throwing knives at a target on the other side of the room while Yunho was in a shooting range which was in an enclosed area that was transparent with glass, making it visible as he shot on the target. Both San and Yunho’s aims were nearly impeccable, as they each hit the center. Mingi was the first one to notice you as he was the only one that was originally facing your direction, and announced your arrival, gaining the looks of all eight of them. 

“Y/n! You’re early,” Seonghwa said as they all began gathering around you, except for San and Yunho who were still in the mini glass section of the room. 

“You’re all early too,” you answered back. 

“Ah, yeah. We were just excited since it’s been a while since we were able to find the time to train together as a whole,” Mingi added. 

You nodded in understanding along with the others, seeing the strong bond the boys had for each other. 

“Well, now that we’re all here. Let’s start,” Hongjoong stated, his tone shifting with leadership as he continued, “Y/n, if I remember correctly what ZG had told me, I believe you’re capable of all fields but specialize in blades?”

You nodded as San swiftly swings his arm around your shoulders, jumping a little as he startled you, “Ahh, just like me~” 

“I figured. I saw you throwing knives. Your aim was pretty good,” you uttered as you glanced at the red-haired boy.

San gazed into your eyes as he pulled you closer slightly and smiled, exposing the dimples that lie on either side of his mouth symmetrically. 

“As I was saying-“ you averted your eyes from San’s as you brought your attention back to Hongjoong upon hearing his voice, who along with the some of the other members, looked at you both intriguingly, “I wanted to see your skills with my own eyes.” 

“How about a mock battle between you and San? I wanna see you kick his ass,” Wooyoung suggested playfully.

San removed his arm around your shoulder and gave Wooyoung a joking slap on the nape, complaining about the lack of faith from his best friend.

You immediately noticed the change in temperature due to the sudden loss of contact of where his arm used to be. It felt colder and you also sensed an unknown fluttering in your stomach. 

“Actually, a mock battle isn’t a bad idea. What do you say?” Hongjoong looked at you eagerly and you accepted. The others all went up to the balcony to observe from above, hearing the faint voices of them guessing who would win. You and San went to the weaponry table. Seeing all types of blades aligning perfectly before you gave you some sort of satisfaction and excitement. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” San asked as he chuckled, seeing the delight in your eyes even though you tried to hide it from your face. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty,” you mumbled.

San watched as you continued to inspect each weapon, finding joy in that someone shared the same admiration of blades as much as he did. 

“These are my favorite,” San reached forward and grabbed the two 18-inch swords and handed them to you as you inspected it. The twin blades had a straight clean cut with a simple black leather handle that blended with the metal into one straight bar. It was exquisitely crafted. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered to yourself as you admired the blades but San heard you. 

“You can use those.”

“But aren’t these your favorite?”

“Yeah, but I’ll let you borrow them since you seem to love them so much,” San teased and you felt your face heating up. 

“Ya! What’s taking you guys so long? I want to see some slicing!” Jongho called out from the balcony, mimicking what he said as he sliced the air with his arms. 

“Geez, hang on. We take our weapons very seriously!” San called back as the members complained. 

“Come on. We should go now,” San turned to you and placed his hand on top of your head before he walked towards the center of the training room. The action caught you off guard as the memories of your brother flashed through your mind. His touch felt nostalgic yet still somehow different from familiarity. 

Not now...

You shake your thoughts away and followed San to the center, and faced him as you mirrored him. 

“Ready...fight!”

∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘∘

-e|n: i hope you enjoyed this chapter! it definitely leaned more towards getting to know nana’s past and it’s coming in to light piece by piece. let me know what you think! :)

[flourchildwrites]

Be Somebody

Picture Prompt Day 5 of @royaiweek 2019

Read Full Text on AO3 / FFN

Length:  1,633 words

Rated:  T

Status:  Complete

Summary:  "How am I ever supposed to be somebody if I don't have something special to set me apart?”

“You already are somebody,” she answered. The corners of her eyes crinkled, matching her small, withered grin. “You’re a good person and the best student he’s ever had. You’ll be a great alchemist someday if that’s what you want. I believe it.”

The young girl on the cusp of womanhood was enthralled, drawn to him by the same peculiar magnetism first felt when she was nine to his eleven. Five years later, at the age of fourteen, she thought she was old enough to know she loved him.

Special thanks to @ruikosakuragi for the much-needed encouragement. 

A boy of sixteen tore down the dirt road.  With lanky limbs and a bag slung across his body, he ran, kicking up dust as his feet pounded against the packed earth.  His breath came hard and ragged against the dry heat of the Eastern countryside, and the heavy breathing in the boy's mind was a sickening countermelody opposite his rapidly beating heart.  The scene set itself precariously against the waning light where the parched land met the isolated country backdrop.

But he wasn’t alone.

She chased behind him, quick and silent like a spry sparrow, unflinching as her sweater twisted loosely around her body and her skirt ruffled in the wind.  The girl’s rich amber eyes were alight. Her feet followed light and swift in her counterpart’s footsteps. He was angry, but she was fast and determined to catch him before he went too far.

His safety net.  Their safety net.  One half of a matching set.

This wasn’t the first time her father’s apprentice had lashed out.  Understanding the men in her life as best she could, the young woman suspected it wouldn’t be the last.

“Stop following me, Hawkeye!” he panted.  The boy's lungs protested against his exertions.  As if his body didn’t know the rigors of farm chores.  As if city life had soaked into his soul.

“Then stop running,” she stated calmly, barely phased by the sprint.  The lean muscles of her lithe body hid untapped reserves of strength.

Still, the boy surged forward but faltered, stumbling on a pebble in his path.  Scrawny legs tangled in a jumbled mess, and the boy kicked at nothing to stir up dust.  He ran a hand through his unkempt hair and turned, silhouetted against the harsh horizon.

“He’s never going to teach me,” he raged, a note of defeat evident in his pitchy voice.  “That old man will take flame alchemy to his grave!”

The girl’s head tilted as she also came to a stop, and her thin lips stretched into a familiar smirk.  She only looked like that when he knew she was right.

And she was always right.  He knew it, even if he was years from admitting it.

“He does teach you.  Every day. All day sometimes.  Just not flame alchemy.”

“Stupid fundamentals,” he spat, throwing his bag to the ground.  Out spilled rumpled clothes and haphazard notes that caught the breeze and blew down the dirt road.  “Stupid theory. I didn’t come here to learn the easy stuff. How am I ever supposed to be somebody if I don't have something special to set me apart?”

“You already are somebody,” she answered.  The corners of her eyes crinkled, matching her small, withered grin.  “You’re a good person and the best student he’s ever had. You’ll be a great alchemist someday if that’s what you want.  I believe it.”

He smiled in spite of himself.  So predictable. On this account, he’d do his damnedest to prove her right.

“You are special.  To me, at least. Because you’re my friend.  So, please don’t leave just yet.”

He started to say that he hadn’t been serious about leaving.  That he knew what it was like for her at school, and he remembered the promises they made.  When finally the young apprentice kicked the dust of this small town off his hand-me-down boots, Hawkeye would go with him.  Someday, they’d both be somebody. More than legacies. More than the names they were given - as well as the ones they weren’t.

With or without flame alchemy.

His demeanor shifted suddenly, and the dwindling sunlight softened around his features, catching the light ends of his hair.  He flashed her a cockeyed smile that was as awkward as it was disarming. The young girl on the cusp of womanhood was enthralled, drawn to him by the same peculiar magnetism first felt when she was nine to his eleven.  Five years later, at the age of fourteen, she thought she was old enough to know she loved him.

“You know I won’t go.  Not unless you are ready to leave.”

Maybe, he felt the same.

She reached for his hand, and their fingers intertwined.  Threads of fate wound round and round. Their strings were stained with an alchemist’s chalk and a markswoman’s gunpowder.

“Wait for me just a little while longer?” she asked coyly.

Her eyes darted back to the three-story house, whitewashed and encrusted in green tendrils of ivy.  A small figure crouched near the open window of the sitting room, and though her mother’s sharp eyes were hidden under the wide brim of a gardening hat, Mae didn’t dare push her luck.  Smart like her father, but wise like her mother, the raven-haired beauty simply squeezed Yuriy’s hand.

Life at Hawkeye Manor was a master class in nonverbal communication.  They didn’t need words. He would wait, and when the time was right, Yuriy Elric and Mae Hawkeye would put the past behind them, together.

...

The tools of her profession had changed - again, and it was all because of him.  From garden tools and overalls to sniper rifles and salutes.  Then, back again. Her life had come full circle, resting in the precise location where it had begun, but the garden was prettier now.  That was no surprise as it was tended by wrinkled hands that had traded wisdom for the succor of youth.

And yet, in his opinion, she was radiant.  Her flaxen hair had grown dusty, stained by starlight and sun.  The deep lines under her amber eyes were likewise weatherworn, having borne the burden of many exceptional sights, good and bad alike.

Life had changed her, but Riza Hawkeye was as constant as the northern star.  Eternal reassurance. Indispensable guidance. Ever watchful.

“Hey, you.”

He chuckled as she turned to greet him with her pruning shears at the ready.  Even after all these years together, it was difficult to catch her off-guard. She had always filled the shoes laid out before her and trudged through each walk of life by his side.  Friend. Lover. Sniper. Subordinate. Outcast.

And, quite unexpectedly, parent.  

She knew the sound of his footsteps and the cadence of his breath better than her own heartbeat.

“Thought I might have chased Yuriy off this time,” the man mused.  He reflexively rubbed his fingers together as he spoke and grinned wryly as if he could still feel the flinty material of his ignition gloves.  It would be illegal for the convicted war criminal and disgraced ex-führer to possess such a thing, naturally. But, ever wary, his keeper stashed a pair or two away for a not-so-rainy day.  Just in case. “I must be losing my touch.”

“If you wanted Yuriy gone, he wouldn’t be here,” she shot back.  “But you like him, Roy, and you like butting heads with him just as much as you enjoyed bickering with his father.  Three peas in a pod.” She plucked a stray weed from her flowerbed and tossed it aside.

The smirk on his face was practically criminal.  “And what a trio we make. A petulant apprentice who knows nothing of life.  The child prodigy who can no longer perform and me, a fallen star, ostracized from all respectable circles of alchemical practice.”

He scoffed and scratched at the salt and pepper scruff on his chin.  “I’ll never know why Fullmetal asked me to teach his son.”

“Isn’t the reason obvious?”

“Yes, I suppose Alphonse was too busy,” he offered humorously.

She rose, then, turning her hands to dust the earth from her digits.  Never one for gloves, she was used to getting her hands dirty.  As was he.

“They’re so alike,” the woman observed.  “Yuriy and Ed, I mean. Yuriy’s just the kind of boy who might rebel against his father and get in trouble while stubbornly pursuing his goals.  Sound familiar?”

The man’s rueful smile matched his partner’s knowing expression, and the woman took a moment to consider their journey’s end - such as it was.  His rise had been meteoric, and his fall seemed just as glamorous from the outside looking in. Theirs was a cautionary tale authored equally by destiny and decision.  Yet, the ending still hung in the balance courtesy of a happy accident: their daughter, Mae - a girl who would do well in life if they all continued to play their parts.

“Then I’ll continue to be the bad guy,” the man said, shrugging his shoulders.  He took the woman’s hand and stared down the dusty road, replaying old memories in his mind’s eye.  A girl chased a boy as he bounded hopefully toward the horizon, longing desperately for a future that turned out to be fool’s gold.

“Maybe he won’t make the same mistakes I did.  Not today at least.”

The woman nodded in agreement as she watched the boy and girl stroll toward Hawkeye Manor, hand in hand.  “Yuriy will make different mistakes and so will Mae, but I think they’ll make them together.”

And though the implication remained unspoken, the sentiment hung heavily between the older couple.  This storied place, an isolated manor situated on the outskirts of a one road town, was simultaneously a safe harbor for tired exiles and a lockup for young dreamers.  It was a vacuum where history could repeat itself. Yet, this time, ambition took a backseat to something short of the fame and fortune that young Roy Mustang had coveted.

Position.  Prominence.   Title.   He now knew these things to be hollow placeholders.  Names and roles were transient, shifting capriciously with time like the parts of a popular play.  Hero to villain.  Apprentice to master.  Orphan to father.  But in this moment, there was love in all its forms, and with love, surely they would all be somebody to someone.

The man smiled.  “That’s all that really matters.”

A/N:   I know; I'm sorry. It's been a minute. I'm still on hiatus for several very good reasons, but I couldn't let this favorite week of mine pass without paying homage to the temple of all things Royai. I look forward to reading and reviewing all the offerings when I get my shit together.  All likes, reblogs, kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks and comments are greatly appreciated, especially during times like these.  I especially love reading the tags!

[radicalcupcakemassacre]

Almost, Shrike, Be, Sunlight 🌿✨

Almost- Do you ever dance alone to music?

Sometimes I do, yeah. But I must admit that I’m really bad at dancing, which is why I don’t really do it too often. A friend of mine showed me a couple of simple dance basics for when you’re dancing with somebody else though, which was really nice of them and a lot of fun. I would like to be a little better at it though.

 Shrike- What’s your favourite bird?

Either the hummingbird, the kingfisher or the ostrich :p

 Be- Have you changed much as a person in the last year?

I have. Last year I started rowing 6-8 times per week, competing in Dutch national student rowing championships with 8 other guys and a female cox. I gave up nearly everything else I had going on for myself at the time, but it was a year I will never forget. I became really fit, mentally strong and motivated, and learned how to push myself through physical and mental limits to get to a goal, such as winning a race. However, I think the major change took place after the rowing season was over. Personal circumstances and the lack of something through which I could just push away my emotions and frustrations (which had been rowing) led to an emotional breakdown, which I’m still coming back from. And although I was in a pretty bad place and am still looking for a better place, it has taught me multiple things. It has taught me that I need to be more open with my emotions, to myself as well as to others. It has also taught me that not everything can be fixed, made right or be forgiven and that sometimes when you give something up, you end up doubting if your decision was the right one or wishing that you could change it. And although it’s harsh, those are lessons which I won’t forget.

 Sunlight- Do you prefer sunny or rainy weather, or somewhere in between?

It depends on my mood. I love it when it’s raining really hard outside when I myself am inside? And I always get into a hysterical crazy laughing fit when I am cycling back home from a shitty day at school or wherever and it’s raining really hard and you’re already soaked to the bone but it doesn’t matter anymore because in 5 or 10 minutes you’re home and you get to put on warm and dry clothes? I am also in love with snow, it’s so pretty, and I get really happy when I look outside and it’s snowing for the first time that year. But in general, I think I’ll go for the days which are neither sunny nor rainy, where you might need a light jacket but it’s nice enough outside for you to leave your coat at home. I went on about weather for longer than I’d expected :p

Sorry for the long answer, but thank you for your ask, Tess :)

[chierafied]

Hello, here is my prompt: Sesshoumaru and Kagome sharing a childhood memory. The challenge: the memories must be connected with the same item (f.e. an actual item, flower, scent,...), and it (this item) should evoce a pleasant memory for Sesshoumaru and a bad one for Kagome!!! Have fun! - VS

Thanks for the prompt, dear! Hope you like it! ♥

Rainbows

Summers were Kagome’s least favourite season.

The warmth and the sunshine she loved well enough, but the rain… The rainy season was relentless and drove her to seek shelter in her hut.

And spending the majority of her days cooped up inside on weeks on end didn’t really endear to the season, any better than getting constantly soaked outside did.

That particular day was much like any other. Steady rain drummed the roof of Kagome’s hut, while she mended some of her clothes – another mindless task to see her through another boring rainy day.

Or so she thought until the sudden presence of youki announced her visitor mere seconds before he strode into her hut, dripping all over her floor.

“Sesshoumaru!”

Kagome set aside her mending and hurried onto her feet and to Sesshoumaru. She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the centre of the hut so she could promptly sit him down in front of the hearth.  

“You’re soaking wet,” she admonished him, while stirring the coals.

Then she wandered off to get a few fresh bits of firewood and a tea pot, which she filled with water and hung from the pothook above the hearth.

“Whatever possessed you to go out in this weather?”

Sesshoumaru shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t seem to mind being soaked to the bone.

“I had to get out,” was all he offered in reply.

But Kagome understood and flashed him a quick smile.

“I’m glad you did come, I was getting stir-crazy myself – though not enough to brave that rain. Is it ever going to end?”

Sesshoumaru wasn’t well versed in exasperated rhetorical questions, as he readily offered her and answer: “Of course it will. All things end.”

Kagome bit her lip to swallow her laugh.

“I suppose so.”

“Where is Inuyasha? And Rin and the old miko?”

“They all left yesterday. There was a youkai attack at one of the villages nearby. A lot of wounded villagers and destroyed buildings. They went to offer aid.”

He raised his eyebrow at her. “And you did not?”

“Someone had to stay here,” Kagome said. “Those youkai might come this way next.”

“Do you need me to stay?”

“Oh, no. We’ll manage. But thank you, it’s kind of you to offer.”

Indeed, just 18 months ago Kagome could have never imagined that Sesshoumaru would make such an offer.

He had treated her with his typical cool indifference when she’d first come back through the well.

It was only after she and Inuyasha had admitted their relationship wasn’t working and had parted ways when Sesshoumaru had started to warm up to her.

Though sometimes it still caught her off guard.

They drank their tea and chatted, and compared to the tedious minutes Kagome had spent mending her clothes, the time seemed to fly as she and Sesshoumaru caught up.

Funny, how much his company had brightened her day.

And then, she noticed something.

The steady rush of rain was gone; now the only sounds from outside was the joyful chirping of songbirds.

“Hear that,” Kagome said with a smile. “The rain did stop.”

“Indeed,” Sesshoumaru said.

He got up and offered Kagome a hand.

She let him help her up and followed him outside.

She took a deep breath, relishing the clean air.

“I love how fresh everything looks and smells after rain,” she commented, walking beside Sesshoumaru towards the stone steps leading up to Inuyasha’s forest and the Bone Eater’s well.

It had become their habit, to often walk or spend time there.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Kagome turned to look down at the village. She glanced up at the sky, where the dark clouds were giving way to streaks of blue and gritted her teeth.

“What is it?” Sesshoumaru asked, sensing the sudden turn of Kagome’s mood.

“There’s a rainbow,” she said, hugging herself and nodding up towards the sky.

“And this upsets you?”

She didn’t have to turn around to know he was regarding her, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Kagome turned her back at the village and the rainbow arching across the sky. “I can’t stand the sight of them.”

“How peculiar.” Sesshoumaru looked up. “I always thought they had their charm.”

“You like rainbows?” she asked, incredulous.

“You do not?” he countered, deadpan.

“It’s just I wouldn’t have expected that,” Kagome said, shaking her head.

“I could say the same,” Sesshoumaru returned.

“I have my reasons,” Kagome said.

“And I have mine.” Sesshoumaru paused, but continued a brief moment later. “I saw one as a pup. My father had taken me out hunting with him for the first time.”

“How did it go?”

“My father felled two deer and I had caught a rabbit, my first kill. I was proud and my father had praised me, which he never did lightly. Then, on our way back home, we saw a rainbow. That moment has stuck with me for some reason and that is why I am not averse to rainbows.”

“That is sweet. No wonder you like them then.”

“And you?” Sesshoumaru asked. “What is your reason for disliking them?”

Kagome did not reply right away. She stared at the wet grass by her feet, ran her fingers through her hair.

“I was seven,” she replied at last, “when I snuck out to the yard one afternoon. I couldn’t stay inside the house any longer, just couldn’t, so I slipped out. I sat underneath the Goshinboku, my arms around my knees… And right then, I saw the biggest and brightest rainbow ever. I started to cry, because it seemed so unfair to see something so beautiful on such a bleak day.” Kagome fell silent.

After a moment, she drew in a trembling breath. “It was the day we buried my father.”

The warm weight of Sesshoumaru’s hand was comforting as it settled onto her shoulder, and Kagome leaned into the touch.

“Like you, I’m reminded of the memory every time I see one, which is why they upset me.”

“That is a good reason,” Sesshoumaru said, his voice grave. “I am sorry you lost your father so young.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry about your father too.”

In companionable silence, they walked a little further, until at last they took a seat underneath the Goshinboku, on the moist grass dappled by sunlight.

Comforted by his presence and his silence, Kagome let her head fall to rest against Sesshoumaru’s shoulder and felt content.

[xnadercrownboiofnorhb]

Of Knights and Dragons: Chapter 3, Reflections

<Previous | xxx | Next>

The third installment of my Fire emblem anthology! I suppose you could say there are some spoilers regarding Jakob’s past.

As always, I hope you enjoy reading this!

Much Love

Reflections (Part Three)

     The soft click of Flora’s heels resonated through the high arches of the dark, marbled corridor. She was a lovely woman, a little beyond her bloom in years, but still very well in her prime. She walked with dignity with her liege's uniform, lovingly repaired and neatly folded, in her arms. She was well on her way to deliver the carefully mended clothing to Lady Corrin’s temporary quarters, isolated in the eastern tower of the castle. She was nearly halfway to her destination when her attention was stolen by a peculiar sound whispering into the hall from an open doorway. Quietly, the maid approached the source of the sound.

     Her curious expression quickly faded to one of concern. There, at the head of a long table covered in an overwhelming array of fine dinnerware, Jakob was slouched. His tired eyes cast down upon the immaculate goblet in his hands. The sound Flora observed was a soft squeaking emitting from the greased handkerchief he was mechanically wiping against the already glistening silver.

     Judging by the bags beneath his eyes and the unkempt appearance of his hair, Jakob must have been at this all night… again. Exhaling, Flora gently set aside the clothing in her hands and carefully approached the butler. She softly placed her palm on his shoulder but Jakob didn’t acknowledge her and continued on with his fruitless polishing.

“Jakob.” Flora’s voice was kind and warm, “Why don’t you let me take care of this?”

“No.”  Jakob scoffed at her, “You’ll mess it up, these need to be perfect.”

     The comment hardly grazed the maid, who both surpassed Jakob in years and prowess as a servant. She understood that what the disheveled butler was really trying to say was; leave me alone. Flora grimaced, she knew Jakob to be an abrasive sort, it was his greatest defense mechanism. He was a sensitive young man, although he would perish before ever admitting it. His caustic personality was his way of keeping everyone at arm's length. Flora knew better than to ask him what was wrong, but clearly something was.

“Jakob, you know as well as I do that any established butler must be well rested to maintain peak performance...” without giving him time to interject with a stubborn rebuttal she continued, “I know all too well that you haven’t slept.”

    Jakob sighed. He was spent, both physically and emotionally. These petty distractions were all that kept his jumbled, invasive emotions at bay. It had been several days since he witnessed the owner of his heart luxuriously reclined beneath the bulk of an old, irrelevant knight that had absolutely no place being in her quarters- no. If he allowed his thoughts to linger even a moment too long on what he witnessed, forceful, reactionary disgust and anger would consume him.

    “You need your rest, lest your duties suffer as a consequence. You cannot hold yourself to meet proper expectations in any altered state,” Flora’s gentle words soaked into Jakob as he slowly, carefully lowered the goblet to the table before him. “and that includes sleep deprivation.”

“I still have to-” Jakob began but was immediately dismissed by the woman.

“I will see to it that your responsibilities are covered for the morning, Jakob. Please, go get some rest.” She gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze around his slumped shoulder. Hesitantly, Jakob forfeited his position to Flora, handing her the overworked handkerchief.

“So be it.” he spat with attempted nonchalance, “If you feel so inclined tarnish all of my hard work… be my guest.” He moved away slowly, unaware of how stiff and sore his body had become remaining stationary through the long hours of the night.

     Flora fought off a small, knowing smile as she watched him steadily make his way away from her. He stopped himself just at the base of the doorway; he stood for a moment and lifted his weary head. He turned his face ever so slightly towards to maid, releasing words that were nearly inaudible to her.

“Thank you, Flora.” and he was gone.

     The cold morning light painted the ominous castle in a pastel stillness, perhaps if the young butler hadn’t been so saturated in his self pity, he could have taken the time to admire it. He moved towards the castle gardens, where he bitterly hoped he could find some clarity before retiring to his quarters. Try as he may, no amount of meticulously polished cutlery could ever erase the sight of Corrin and Gunter from his mind. Perhaps some fresh air could offer some relief. Anything.

   How dare he-? What were they-? Why would she-? With a deep breath Jakob stopped himself from spiraling back into the tired, repeating flurry of outrage that he had allowed himself to steep in over the last few days. He’d run around a thousand different scenarios in his mind but each and every one brought him back to the same empty, unproductive feelings of jealousy and betrayal. Did he even have any right to feel this way? Well, of course he did! … Didn’t he?

     Jakob slowed his pace as he came a tall, open archway leading to one of Castle Krakenburg’s finest studies. The regal room was dark and dimly lit with candles. The tall  windows were covered with rich curtains to keep the sunlight from bleaching the ancient texts hiding within. Towering ornate shelves generously filled with colorful tomes and scrolls lined the entire perimeter of the room.

     A small lump formed in Jakob’s throat as his eyes fell upon on of the finely embellished writing station in the far corner of the study. He approached the elaborate desk and allowed his fingers to trace over its smooth, shining finish. Beneath the decorative cloth covering its surface, If he looked very carefully, he could find the outline of subtle discoloration from an accident that happened years ago. He vividly remembered the incident, he could never forget…

     At that time, It had been only a few months since Jakob had been surrendered over to Castle Krakenburg. A frightened child abandoned by his unfeeling parents to the mercy of a cruel king. The boy had begun his intensive training into the ways of Nohrian servitude and was assigned with one of his first independent tasks. It was simple enough, present and pour out tea for Iago in the study. At least, it sounded simple.

   Little Jakob shook in his boots as he approached the study on that rainy afternoon, the delicate china softly chittering upon the tray in his nervous hands. Iago was not a benevolent man to say the least. He was a selfish, pitiless lacky of King Garon; a gaunt, pale husk of a man. The small boy had previously witnessed the sickly mage in his fits of rage many times before. He always heeded Flora’s warning to keep out of Iago’s warpath or else risk the danger of becoming reduced to collateral damage. He repeated little prayers in his mind, hoping to find the magister in a pleasant mood… if that were even possible. He prayed as well that he had prepared the tea just as Iago preferred. Fittingly: bitter and potent.

     Jakob cautiously looked around as he entered the study, but the towering ghoul was nowhere to be found. So slowly, the little boy proceeded, looking for a desirable spot to set his tray. Just set the tray down and go. He told himself, trying to calm his nerves. With little droplets of nervous sweat forming at his temples, just as he was about to set his arrangement down…

“Hi Jakob!!”

    Jakob shrieked and recoiled, his tray and all of its contents launched into the air only to rain down upon a dozen open faced texts on the desk before him. There, with both of her little hands covering her mouth in shock, was princess Corrin. She had dropped a small pile of books that she seemed to be fetching for her brother, Prince Leo.

    “Oh no, no, no!! Jakob, I am so sorry!!” She frantically scrambled to pick up the porcelain shards scattered about the desk and floor, but it was too late to save the tomes and scrolls displayed on the table. The dark, rich tea had already bled into the pages, spreading across the paper in vein-like streams, consuming and blurring the words and drawings in its wake.

     Jakob stood there mortified, his small hands grabbing handfuls of hair on the sides of his head. Fear and embarrassment bubbled up and burned in his chest.

     “I am so sorry, Princess! How stupid - I am an absolute disgrace!” Hot tears formed at the corners of his eyes and he fruitlessly tried to soak up some of the steaming tea, nearly burning his little hands.

“No, Jakob, this is my fault. I’m sorry! I was just so happy to see you, I-”

     A thunderous roar split the still atmosphere of the room as an enraged Iago stormed across the study forcing his palms down upon the desk that housed his ruined academic works. His ghostly, narrow face contorted into vicious snarl. Hands shaking, he grabbed a fistful of wet paper and behind a veil of long, black hair glared at the two children before him.

     “Which of you imbeciles is responsible for this mess!?” He hissed through gritted teeth.

    Without realizing, Jakob had cowered behind the princess, shivering in terror. He felt very faint, as if he himself would fall to the floor and shatter like the teapot before him.

      “I demand to know now!!” Iago screamed, slamming his fist down into table once more, rattling the broken glass scattered about. Jakob flinched, and Corrin touched his hand in solidarity.

     Corrin boldly took a step towards Iago to draw a firm  line between the deranged royal scholar and the petrified servant. Her eyes cast to the ground and her fingers entangled behind her back. Without hesitation, the young noble took ownership of the disaster.

“It was my fault, Iago. I am truly sorry.”

     Iago observed Corrin, an unpredicted display of bravery from a little girl. Jakob stared at the little Princess. She looked so brave, clad in her ruffled dress with her long raven hair lovingly pulled back into a fishtail braid, she might has well have been eight feet tall and adorned in shining armor.

   Iago closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he straightened himself up. A questionable smirk spread across his thin, colorless lips as his gradually moved closer to the princess less than half his size. With his hands behind his back, he bent over to meet Corrin face to face. She raised her brave little head and locked eyes with him.

     “I will see to it, little girl…” Iago spoke softly, an uneasy air filled the room, “that King Garon locks you away for good.”

     Jakob could see Corrin holding her breath, her twitching fingers compromising the facade of her courage. Jakob didn’t blink, watching Iago compose himself and stand up right. He turned to leave, giving the children a false sense of relief before swiftly striking the princess across the face. The gauntlet on Iago’s hand cracked against the soft skin of Corrin’s cheek, sending her toppling to the ground.

      “I expect this mess be cleaned up by the time I return,” Iago shot back at Jakob, “Or else much worse will happen to you little boy.”

     No faster than Iago stormed off did Jakob collapse before Corrin, reaching out to the injured princess with shaking hands. He wanted to inspect her but he was too scared to touch her. Corrin drew herself up to her knees, wiping the blood from her mouth.

    “Princess…” Jakob whimpered, offering up his handkerchief to her. “Why did you… Why did you...?”

    “You’re my friend, Jakob.” Corrin spoke so simply, as if it were the plainest fact. “We look out for each other.” She shared a weak smile with him, accepting his handkerchief and pressing it to her torn mouth.

      We look out for each other. 

      Jakob let those words repeat in his head, as he drew his mind back from old memories.  His thumb traced over the faded stains from all of those years ago. He wondered if that was the specific day he had fallen in love with Corrin. That day... and each day afterward leading up to this very moment.

     He winced at the thought. He had spent the entirety of the last few days, throwing himself an elaborate pity party. Angry at the world that he could be so in love with someone that didn’t love him back. Would he ever know anything beyond the cold, sour taste of unrequited love? His own parents never loved him, why should Corrin be any different?

     Jakob suddenly was overcome with shame, how could he think that? This single memory was one of hundreds. Corrin had always treated Jakob with kindness and respect. She was always clearly mindful of his well-being and his happiness. Her affections may not have bloomed into the romance he had ached for, but it was no more than a selfish lie to claim that Corrin didn’t love him at all.

     Jakob removed himself from the study and made his way to the royal gardens. The crisp morning air brought a little life to him as he sat upon a bench coiled with ivy. He rubbed his tired eyes before leaning back and watching the dew roll over the foliage around him. But why the old man? Ugh. At face value it didn’t make any sense. The Veteran Knight was a stoic, stern man. He always kept to himself, no evidence of a personality, no trace of a sense of humor. Yet, somehow Corrin clearly saw something in him. What did she see? Jakob sat for a moment, allowing his negative bias to run its course. He knew his jealousy tainted his perception of the Great Knight.

     He knew Sir Gunter as a severe, and sometimes even callous instructor. The veteran Knight initially wasn’t around all too often when Jakob and Corrin were very small. No, at that time, Gunter was the Captain of the Guard, the right hand of Garon. He commanded a battalion of Nohr’s fiercest soldiers back then. If Jakob recalled correctly, the sober man also smiled a lot more back then. What had changed?

       A heaviness settled in the pit of his stomach as he remembered. No one had dared openly speak of it, but spread throughout the entire castle in hushed whispers was the tale of the destruction of a small, lowly village to the west. Lost in the carnage, the wife and child of the most decorated General in Garon’s army. There was so much speculation over how the attack had actually happened. Some said Barbarians, some said Hoshidan forces, but it was unimportant. The young Jakob was old enough to understand the once honored Captain had been stripped of his position and reassigned to the Northern Tower as an over glorified babysitter. The light had been drained from that once charming, valiant war hero, and was replaced with a static, apathetic hollow. More than once did Jakob catch the frayed knight isolating himself in the dark hours of the night, staring vacantly to the distance with his eyes bereft of life. This pain followed the Knight for years and years, not once did he speak of it.

    Jakob shrunk into himself as he remembered more and more. Gunter had trained Jakob in both combat and domestic servitude, and although his methods were harsh and unforgiving, there were small, subtle moments of warmth. Numerous times, Gunter had acted as a buffer for Jakob; casting a single stern gaze at the malevolent Iago, causing the hostile mage to immediately turn tail and flee. He had also snuck Jakob morsels of food on the nights the young boy was denied dinner as punishment. The Knight never admitted it, but Jakob coincidentally found Gunter “patrolling” near the servants quarters each of the nights he would find dinner rolls and fruit neatly wrapped and hidden at his bedside.

     Gunter was firmly punitive, pushing Jakob to the very thin perimeter of his physical and mental limits - but not once did he cross that line. The result was exceptional. Now, as a young man, Jakob had already become one of the finest menservants Nohr had ever seen. Although the Knight never came to say it outright, and despite their incessant squabbles and bickering, Jakob knew Gunter was proud of who he had become.

     Jakob hunched over on his cold, stone bench. He placed his face in his hands and exhaled slowly. Just as every other avenue his mind traveled over the last few days, he brought himself once more to feelings of disgust; but it was different this time. He was disgusted with himself. 

     He thought back to the intimate scene he had witnessed, but this time there was no rage, no jealousy. He recalled the glow about the two as they kissed one another. Blissful, smiling. Had he ever seen either one of them so...  happy?

    Jakob told himself time and time again that Corrin’s happiness was his singular priority, but was it truly? Or were each of his efforts tailored to satisfy his own happiness? Did he pour himself into his acts of selflessness to Corrin out of love? Or was it to earn the attention and affection he so selfishly craved? He lifted his head, brushed off his weariness and stood with resolve. He had an idea.

     Gunter’s eyes strained as he stared at the numbers scribbled on the ledger in his hands. He was taking inventory of castle’s armaments, one of his usual evening tasks. Everything appeared to be in order in the armory, unsurprising. Marking off the last of his count with a feathered quill, Gunter set aside the ledger and began to inspect a few of miscellaneous pieces of armor, jotting down little notes as he did. Night had washed over the sky, as the knight quietly worked by the glow of the neat oil lamps and torches that lined the room. His own armor had been neatly polished and set aside for morning, he wore a loose fitting white tunic over a pair a fine pair of leather trousers. Even in his casual attire - the Knight still had a proud and proper aura about him. His silence was broken by a nervous cough. Gunter looked up to find Jakob, clearing his throat to grab his attention. Gunter grimaced, he had a feeling this confrontation was bound to happen; and yet part of him had ignorantly hoped enough time would pass that everything would be forgotten… or at least repressed.

“Good evening.” Jakob stood with his trademark flawless posture, his voice direct.

    The Knight didn’t immediately respond, he took his head into his hand with a heavy sigh. His thumb and pointer finger massaging the fine lines on his forehead. He did not need this sort of stress.

     “Jakob… I…” Gunter didn’t what to say or how to say it. He had no idea how to navigate this situation. The last he saw of Corrin was the day of the… incident. The two had worked together to tidy up the carnage that was smashed tea assortment Jakob had brought. They hadn’t discussed matters outside of Gunter nervously stammering on about his shame and Corrin, in turn, reassuring him that everything would work out.

    “Go to Lady Corrin.” Jakob spat, his eyes cast to the ground.

    “... Pardon?” Gunter spoke slowly, unsure he had heard the butler properly.

     “Don’t make me repeat myself, old man.” Jakob waved his hand dismissing the Knight’s inquiry, supporting the notion that Gunter did, in fact, hear him correctly.

     “I have far too much to complete this evening. And besides, what happened-”

     “I have personally seen to the rest of your evening duties.” Jakob rocked on his heel, having taken inspiration from Flora’s prior kindness.

     Gunter swallowed, he had absolutely no idea how to respond to this news. Even if he wanted to run to the Princess’ chambers, he simply could not make the same, foolish mistake from before. He had originally gone to Corrin’s chambers to extinguish the smoldering flame that had started between them and that obviously worked out swimmingly for him. In retrospect, the Knight and the Princess were lucky it was the butler that walked in on them, and not the crowned prince. Gunter shuddered at the thought. However, Jakob came prepared for Gunter’s concerns. He was a thorough young man, and he never proceeded with any plan prior to exploring every hypothetical.

     “Flora, Felicia, and I will stand by to ensure you two are allowed adequate privacy.” Jakob was clearly becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the interaction lingered.

     “We cannot give you the entirety of the night without looking suspicious, but we can at least keep any potential visitors at bay for a few hours.”

    Gunter blinked at the young man before him, Jakob face was flushed red. The Knight himself was not particularly comfortable with the inappropriate nature of interaction, but he was touched.

     “I… I don’t know what to say, Jakob.”

     “Don’t say anything, just go.” Jakob turned away from Gunter, crossing his arms over his chest. Sensing Gunter’s hesitation, Jakob became impatient. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

     Gunter cleared his throat and removed himself from the room as instructed. Jakob watched the Knight as he faded into the dark hallway leading towards the eastern tower with restrained haste. The butler felt his eyes sting, but he refused to let himself shed any tears.

    Days had passed. Discussions and debates from the war summit concluded and tactical decisions were made. Knight Commander Corrin and her troops had been mobilized to the south and were awaiting orders. It was here Jakob watched Corrin train a few of the new recruits. He could see so clearly that melancholy that held her prisoner had not only relinquished its hold, but was replaced with a lovely vibrancy. Strength had returned to her smile, her laughter was genuine and enchanting again, and her gaze, no longer vacant, shined with purpose and hope.

     He watched her and felt a welcome warmth consume his heart. She was happy again. With a soft, knowing smile, Jakob retreated towards the mess hall to assist in preparing dinner. He walked alone, but he was content.

We look out for each other.

[thebibliosphere]

Cursed Child AU: insomniac additions.

Another thing (because yes we’re just going to go back to talking about the Cursed Child AU like we never left) that annoyed me about The Cursed Child was how the Adults treated Scorpius Malfoy in the text. 

Like I get it, nobody is perfect and everyone has issues, especially when you take into account the things the original trio endured. But, and this is a large but I cannot lie, I also feel it’s entirely out of character for Harry Potter, the boy who survived twice and lived to become the man who would name his second son after two of his arguably worst abusers* (after Voldie and the Dursleys of course) in recognition of their bravery and...whatever...redemption I guess, to only then turn around to his son, point to another child and say “they come from an evil family, don’t be friends with him”. 

It just...it doesn’t feel right.** 

Just like how Ron pitting his daughter against the Malfoy off-spring doesn't feel right either. “Here sweetheart, we fought this entire war based on opposing those who thought they were better than others because of how they were born, and we made the world a better, more fair place. Now go kick that other kid’s ass his dad was a dick. Also don’t come home if you get sorted into Slytherin, bye honey loooove yoooou!”

Like....that is just not Ronald Weasley to me. It’s maybe Ron at the start of the series when we see him coming from a place of...not monetary privileged to be sure, but definitely perhaps cultural in terms of his bloodline? Like they might be dirt poor but the Weasley’s are a pure-blood family and that matters in this world. 

But it’s not who Ron is at the end of the series. 

It’s not who any of them are at the end of the series. Yet somehow we just see the continuation of “all adults are awful, yes even the good ones” and it just...it’s mediocre writing for one thing, but it’s also a continuation of validating shitty adult human behavior for Reasons, which Rowling is infamous for, and maybe it’s just me. But I’m tired of that shit.

I’m so, gods damned tired. Both as a reader, an editor and a writer.

Which is why I’d like you to consider: Cursed Child AU Molly Weasley meeting Scorpius Malfoy for the first time. 

In my head, for whatever reason, the new trio are soaked, just, drenched to the bone and guilty as hell, and Rose isn’t too worried by her grandmother’s stern look, she knows the shouting and the hand waving is from concern and not a threat. And Albus too, who has gotten into his own fair share of trouble with his brother and cousins and been on the receiving end of his Grandma’s tongue lashing more than once has just sort of, switched off, eyes glazed over as he takes the reprimand as he takes all others.

But Scorpius has no reference for this. His own mother and father have never disciplined him, not really, they’ve never had cause to. But he’s seen the fights between his father and grandfather, and people have walked away from those burned. He’s felt this anger before, this shrill frustration, but it’s never been directed at him before and honestly he’s not sure if he’s about to vomit or cry—until suddenly it stops. And when he looks up, Mrs. Weasley is looking at him, just for a second she’s looking just at him. And then she sighs, wiping a weary hand over her face as she waves them towards the stairs. 

“Go to bed, all of you. Albus, show your friend where everything is. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

So they climb the stairs and say good night, and Albus lets Scorpius borrow some old but clean clothes from a chest at the end of a bed that looks like it hasn’t been slept in for years but is still kept pristine. And he feels like an intruder in this cramped wonderful space that feels lived in and loved from the ceiling to the floor. But Albus is already falling asleep face down on the other bed so he can’t ask if this is okay and instead just peels back the covers and falls asleep thinking if a house could feel like a hot cup of tea on a rainy Autumn day then the Burrow would be mid-October with two sugars and a ginger snap on the side.

The next morning he awakens to find his own clothes not just dried but cleaned and mended, folded at the end of the bed. Not wanting to wake Albus (snoring gently on his back, dark hair sticking out at all ends in a nice way that makes Scorpius’ stomach do a funny swooping thing he’s not ready to think about just yet) Scorpius creeps out of bed in search of the privy, somehow managing to get turned around in this tiny house that’s smaller than his grandfather’s study and finds himself on the threshold of the kitchen again, where a fire is already lit and something bubbles gently on the stove. He doesn’t mean to stare, but there’s just so much stuff, brick-a-brack and clutter his mother would never allow, mementos, moving pictures on every wall, the clock gently ticking on the wall...

“Cup of tea, dear?”

He jumps, feeling like he’s been caught somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Come along dear, sit down,” Mrs Weasley continues, placing gentle hands on his shoulders and guiding him towards the kitchen table where the table is already set. “One lump or two?”

“I...” Scorpius stutters, looking around, desperately hoping for one of the other two to appear, even Rose who he knows only tolerates him because of Albus. “Two?” he asks. “Please?”

“There you are dear, help yourself to milk. Sleep all right?”

“I...uh, yes, thank you?”

“Good, good. Toast?”

“Uh...”

“There you go. Help yourself to butter and jam.”

He’s halfway through a second slice when Albus appears in the doorway, still in the rumpled clothes he’d slept in and yawning loudly until Rose pushes him out of the way and sits down heavily in the empty chair next to Scorpius, glaring, as though daring him to say something about her frazzled hair and the pillow markings on her sleep-pinked face. Scorpius wisely takes another bite of toast and pushes the teapot towards her. Albus stumbles over next, still so half asleep her nearly face plants into the jam the moment he’s sitting. It’s only the joint efforts of Rosie and Scorpius that keeps it from happening.

“What time is it?” he asks, rubbing blearily at his eyes. 

Scorpius glances to the clock—not the family one of course, though he can’t help but feel a little envious at just how many spoons it has. His parents have one, but it only has three hands.

“Time you were up and about,” Mrs Weasley comments before Scorpius can answer, swooping in over the table with a platter laden with breakfast food and dishing it out in heaps like she’s used to feeding an army. Glancing again at the family clock, Scorpius can see why. “And time to tell me what in Merlin’s Beard is going on.”

The trio glance between themselves, suddenly far more awake than they were mere moments before. With a mouthful of tea, Scorpius makes a hard swallow and braces himself.

“I'm really sorry, but this is entirely all my fault.” He starts when Mrs Weasley laughs, eyeing her two grandchildren with a knowing look.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe, dearie. Here have some more bacon.”

Somewhere between second, third and quite very nearly fourth helpings (Scorpius has never eaten so much in his life, not even at the Hogwarts feasts) they tell the truth. Or rather, they omit certain details and confess they found the car in the woods while having detention and wanted to see if it would work. How were they to know the doors would slam shut and the car would take them home. Molly Weasley listens quietly, with none of the previous shouting of yesterday, even when they recount the part about the doors falling off. Scorpius is relieved. He doesn’t think he could handle it, and he has no desire to see all that good food come up in reverse. 

“Well, I can’t say I’m pleased.” she says when they’re done, fixing them all with a pointed look. “But I am glad you are safe. Now, why don’t you go get ready and head on outside. The gnomes are in the herb patch again, and I need to contact the school and let them know you’re safe."

The other two groan and slide out of their chairs to stomp up the stairs. Scorpius also stands and thinks about following them, but he’s already dressed so doesn’t see the point, he’ll just wait here by the door and go outside when they’re ready...he’s oddly excited by the prospect of de-gnoming the garden. He’s never done anything like it before...

“Everything all right, dear?” Mrs Weasley asks him, voice light as she clears away the breakfast table with a flick of her hand. “With school?”

He’s puzzled by the question, but he nods. “Yes, thank you Mrs Weasley.”

She hums politely, drawing her wand again and pulling over a scroll of parchment and a quill from a nearby table. “And what about home, everything all right there?”

The nausea is instant and for one horrible moment he thinks he might actually be sick. His mouth is watering, his head feels hot, his hands are cold and his eyes are blurring as he tries to quell the terror such a question brings because how, how can he answer a question like that while knowing the truth of what is yet to come...

He doesn’t even realize he’s sobbing until warm arms surround him. He’s been hugged before, but never like this. Everyone in his family is rail-thin and formally stiff. Physical affection often feels like an obligation to be endured, not warm and enveloping like sunlight through a glass pane on a cold winter morning. 

“There now dear,” she soothes, patting his back and holding him close like one of her own—a Potter or a Weasley, not a Malfoy. He doubts a Malfoy has ever been held this way. “I’m so sorry Scorpius. It’s not easy grieving...but you’ll be all right...it’ll be all right...shhh”

Later in the garden no one says anything. He knows they know, he can still feel the evidence of it streaked down his face, sniffling loudly in a way that has nothing to do with the chill Autumn air as they run after the scurrying gnomes. Instead they are stoically silent. But it’s a united sort of silence. Even Rosie looks grimly determined as she nods to him, just once, an unspoken version of the promise Albus had uttered in the small hours of the Slytherin Dungeon.

They have a curse to break. And it's bloody well going to get broken.

(cut for foot notes)

*Yes, Albus Dumbledore is abusive, come on over here and fight me on this if you want to. This has been bothering me since I was fifteen years old and red warning flags started going off in my head when I recognized his behavior as stuff my own abusers were doing. 

**And you can argue with me until you are blue in face about how victims of abuse don’t realize their own behavior is toxic*** and it’s important to show the effects of that, (cause it is) but I also feel that when it comes to these portrayals, especially in media directed towards children and young adults, it’s important for these adults to be held accountable for their actions and made to realize, hey, you’re doing the thing you hated about your own childhood, maybe not do that??? Also here’s an idea, have abusive adults (intentional or otherwise) in narrative, recognize their actions, own to them and then, are you ready for this??? Apologize for them. Wild I know, right? Normalize this stage of recovery towards not being an absolute shitheel, please and thank you. It is a very important step that also, amazingly, does not require the immediate forgiveness of the victim. Astounding I know.

***Hello, I am a fellow human tire fire still dealing with my own toxic shit from years of ongoing abuse, please don’t launch into an attack on the assumption I am speaking from a place of sunshine and rainbows on this.

[nikkaabbyyyy]

Just something to get off my chest

I don't wanna be just the good girl everyone says I am. I'm so much more than that. Some say I don't know how to get mad but trust me, I have my "sudden emotional outburst" days too. I was known as the quiet lady but I can share my thoughts too. Specially if it's something I love or something I'm passionate about. There are days where I just want to lock myself in my room but some days I want adventure in the outside world. I listen to songs most people would consider loud but they don't know it's what gets me through life. (Besides God, of course) I read books that help me escape the real world. Say hi to my imaginative mind! *waves* Weird is an understatement for me. I'm more like a crazy-retarded kiddo once you get to know me. I get happy at the cute and small little things. Like stars and moons and sunlights that peeks through the trees! I will never get tired of those lovely sceneries. I may look like a sweet, and innocent kind hearted girl but I have my crazy wild side too- the girl who says yes to adventures. I am crazyyyy about cars. I think of them as humans. There are good looking, handsome cars for me. I also like cars who has good rev(the sound of their engines). I could talk about cars all day in this piece but I wont. I don't know if there are other girls who are as obsessed as I am but I reaalllyyy really like cars. I have a love-hate relationship with my hair. It's reaallyyy wild. It's so thick. Ugh. I hate it. But sometimes I love the way it curls. It's... you know, girl stuff.(except they have perfect straight hair and I have, well my messy hair) Rainy days: BEST WEATHER EVER. Unless you're outside and soaking wet from the rain. HAHA. But imagine yourself wrapped up in blankets with a cup of coffee in your hand. And as you stare at the window you see the raindrops falling. Ahhh! I can almost hear the sound of rain right now. Soo relaxing. *sighs* I say the word "Sorry". A. Lot. If I talk to you on a daily basis you will know this. I don't really know how to end this but this became too long soooo that's all for now. *waves goodbye*