#i update the family tree after each time i play so it’s just way ahead of where i am in game lol

[unpleasantview]

me adding “spoiler alert” to my mobile navi link to my frost family tree like anyone actually reads or cares about my posts <3

[satansapostle6]

folie à deux

Sometimes poison is sweet.

Selina Romanov and Draco Malfoy met when they were only eleven years old. The two of them have always shared an intense bond, always having gravitated towards one another. But the question still remains, as the years pass by, is their connection one of passion, or delusion?

Warnings: Contains Mature Themes/Language, Themes Such As Sexual Content, Violence, Abuse, Sexual Assault, Eating Disorders

Six.

The third letter that Jasper Carroll had written to Selina was lying on the desk in Draco's room, half read as she chased him around outside. They were running around together in the snow, taking turns chasing one another wildly, with no plans or specific intentions. They were playing freely like children again, laughing hysterically as Narcissa Malfoy watched them wistfully from inside. It had been a fairly pleasant visit at Malfoy Manor for Selina the past few days. She had spent all of her time being childish with Draco and enjoying the holidays, remembering to write to all of her friends occasionally. She'd exchanged a few letters with Jasper and Amana, updating each other on their lives over the vacation. 

Dear Selina,

Glad to hear things are better. It must get awkward, staying with the Malfoys for an extended period of time. I get antsy spending a small amount of time with the one Malfoy I know.  I think you'll be happy to know, my dad's only been as much of an arsehole as he normally is. He's just been getting drunk and singing Christmas carols by the fire after work. Mum says he's always gotten weird around the holidays since his mum died. I reckon she's right. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he sneaks downstairs to talk to her picture. Other nights, he sneaks downstairs to eat sausage. Dads are weird. I'm guessing you understand what I mean, although in a bit of a different way. My brother Jamie didn't come home for Christmas, so my mum and my brother Jordan have been a bit touchy the past week or so. It almost feels like they've forgotten I'm here. I kind of can't wait to go back to school. It's nice to be home for the holidays and not have to do much, but I miss being around friends. Let me know how things are going. Don't take too long— I might assume Malfoy's finally managed to wear you down. 

Your Friend, 

Jasper

Selina had laughed to herself when she received Jasper's letter, also appreciating his friendly thoughtfulness. She felt sorry for him feeling strange in his own home, knowing exactly what that felt like. She watched Draco as then ran around in the snow together, trying to see if she could detect any hint of that same sadness in him. For now, at least, he seemed placated. Nothing made him angry, or upset him too much since his fight with his father. Things seemed to have gotten better in the past few days, with Lucius Malfoy's behavior toward his son seeming more paternal and considerate, at least for Lucius Malfoy. But, the convenient thing about spending their time outside was that Selina and Draco didn't have to worry about anything to do with his parents, or anything like that. Selina and Draco spent hours just running around his family's property, playing like they were children again. Selina realized she felt more carefree than she ever had before, chasing Draco around on the snowy grass as they cackled with laughter. 

  "I'm coming to get you, Malfoy!" Selina announced as she ran up behind him.  

They were taking turns running after one another, both of them trying to catch the other one. Draco kept turning back to look for Selina, chuckling as he raced ahead, hoping to outmaneuver her. 

  "Come on! You're fucking dead and you know it!" she screamed. 

  "Please! I think I can handle Slytherin's slowest Chaser!" he fired back. 

She ran past one of the trees on the estate, only steps behind him. She could hear his laughter as he panted laboriously, gasping for air as he ran from her. Selina laughed as Draco suddenly tripped over a branch growing off of a root in the ground, falling flat on his back. 

  "Oh!" Draco grunted loudly, heaving a sigh as he reached for his back, trying to soothe the pain.

Selina couldn't move out of the way in time, slipping over his foot as hers got caught in his. She landed hard right on top of him, gasping as she tried to pull herself up off the ground. Selina and Draco laughed at each other's clumsiness as they both gave up on trying to stand, collapsing on each other in a fit of hysterical laughter. Selina was initially afraid she'd hurt Draco somehow by falling on him, but it was evident by his amused laughter that he'd hardly even noticed.

  "Are you okay?!" he questioned nervously.

She had landed right above him, their faces less than a foot apart from one another as she steadied herself on her elbows. It was initially awkward how close they were. Selina was embarrassed, staring at him to try and gauge his reaction as he just stared back, no discernible emotion on his face. His expression was totally blank, as if he'd forgotten what he was doing altogether. 

  "Yeah... Yeah, I'm alright," she promised him, both of them afraid to move. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine," he stated awkwardly, still lying beneath her as he lightly held onto her waist, mortified, but still trying to make sure she didn't injure herself. 

She hadn't noticed it before, but out in the cold, Draco's pale skin had a slight pink flush to it. Although he wore multiple layers and a hat to keep him warm, his face was still exposed, leaving his cheeks and nose slightly flushed pink. This ultimately was worsened by the embarrassment he was currently feeling. Selina was horribly aware that this was the closest she and Draco had ever been to one another. Their noses might as well have been touching at this point. She could see him up close, in a way that she hardly ever looked at anyone. She felt like could see everything, from the little strands of hair that framed his face, to the beautiful pattern of different hues in his blue eyes, to the softness of his lips. Selina of course knew exactly what Draco looked like, and could recognize when something was different, but she'd never actually looked at each individual piece of his face. It occurred to her that the exact combination of different features that were the make-up of his face were so much more complex than she'd ever stopped to think about. The longer she studied him, the more she realized that Draco Malfoy really was more than the sum of his parts, both physically and otherwise. 

  "I'm just gonna..."

  "...Right," Draco nodded slowly, watching her as she rolled off of him to the side, grunting as she managed to get up. 

He followed suit, brushing all of the snow off of him as he stood. Both of them seemed shell shocked, as if they couldn't figure out how to proceed from there. Uncomfortable with the silence, Draco rubbed his stomach as he complained, exaggerating about the pain of falling. 

  "Ow, you crushed my lungs!" he whined.

  "Sorry," Selina muttered insincerely in response, "You're the one who tripped me," she argued.

  "Let's just go inside," he murmured, still embarrassed. 

  "Why, because you lost?" Selina said in a cocky manner. 

  "Shut up," he hissed, waiting for her to walk ahead of him.

He knelt down, balling up a decent amount of snow with his gloved hands. After crafting a decent snowball, he pulled his arm back, getting a good aim at her before throwing it. The second she felt the snow hit her back, Selina froze in her tracks, a wide-eyed smile of disbelief spreading across her face. She turned around to see a grinning Draco standing in the middle of the snowy clearing. The smile on his face was silky and childish in nature, a smile that she knew meant everything was fine, at least in that moment. 

  "Fine, that's how you wanna play?" Selina decided. "Then, that's how we'll play." 

She bent down to quickly make as many snowballs as she could with the utmost determination, silently enchanting them with her wand. The snowballs floated in the air, quickly becoming projectile as they followed Draco until they were able to be hurled into him. 

  "Hey! No magic! That's cheating!" he exclaimed.

  "Says who?" she called, creating and enchanting more snowballs than Draco ever could have dodged. 

She laughed loudly and heartily as she watched him stumbling about in the snow, failing to dodge all of the snowballs that were specifically enchanted to follow him. 

  "I hate you!" he screamed at her. 

  "Love you too!" she teased as she watched, more than satisfied with herself. 

The way they'd spent the better part of that entire day playing around out in the snow like little children was healing and freeing for them both. After a few solid minutes of Draco begging her to, Selina slowly morphed into her raven form, towering above him as a big black bird as he watched her, trying to be quick enough to grab her out of the air. Needless to say, he wasn't. He'd laughed giddily, running around the grounds of the manor as he chased after Selina in her Animagus form. 

  "No fair!" he whined, looking up above as she flew at least three feet above his head, taunting him. 

She squawked mockingly as she flew in frantic circles around him, wrapping around his head in laps over and over again hoping to make him dizzy. They went back inside together, getting out of the cold before it started to get dark. They dusted all of the snow off of themselves before entering Draco's family manor, laughing the whole time. It was time for dinner, and yet Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were nowhere to be found. Draco and Selina exchanged confused looks as they searched the living rooms, dining room, and kitchen, unable to find either of them. Draco had even resorted to asking the cook if he'd seen his mother, but even he had no idea where Mrs. Malfoy was. Draco and Selina headed up the stairs, trying to find his parents before dinner, which was about to be served. Not finding them in Lucius's study, they decided to look for them in their bedroom, the both of them stopping right in front of the door as they heard hushed voices yelling at one another. 

  "Do you honestly believe that?!"

Selina could hear Lucius yelling over Narcissa, who was certainly more quiet. She looked over at Draco, who seemed once again frozen as he listened to his parents arguing.

  "Draco," Selina began compassionately, "Maybe we should—"

  "Shhhh!"

She frowned, knowing he had already made up his mind. 

  "Yes, I do!" they heard Narcissa respond. "Draco is a very intelligent boy, and he—!"

  "You coddle him," Lucius remarked with a crass scoff. 

Selina's mouth sat slightly agape as she looked over at Draco, who seemed upset when he realized their marital spat was about him, and definitely not in a positive context.

  "You've denied me just about every request I have when it comes to raising my son, and now he's turned out soft!" Draco's father exclaimed. 

  "He's my son as well," Narcissa's volume increased, "And I will not have him raised—"

  "How?" Lucius asked impatiently. "The way we were raised?"

  "Essentially, yes!" she answered.

  "Why do you insist we live like hypocrites, allowing our son to be coddled and sheltered?" Lucius demanded. 

  "Because, I would rather we be hypocrites than expose our son to the same life that we used to live!" Narcissa Malfoy said firmly. "You can't honestly want your son to live with this...this... dark cloud looming over his head!"

Lucius was silent for a moment, as if knowing he was unable to answer her rhetorical question. 

  "Don't tell me you'd want your son to end up in Azkaban one day!" she went on. "We can't possibly let our son become the kind of wizard who bears that same mark!"

Selina looked at Draco, knowing exactly what their conversation was about. 

  "You mean we can't possibly let our son take after his father!" Lucius boomed. 

  "No! We can't!" Narcissa reminded him. "Thirteen years ago, you barely avoided Azkaban by telling the Ministry that you were acting under the influence of the Imperious Curse, now I highly doubt that that routine is going to work twice, when it just barely worked the first time!"

  "You can't honestly be stupid enough to believe he's actually coming back!" 

  "You can't be stupid enough to believe that he won't find a way, eventually!" she pointed out. "You and I both know, the Dark Lord's return is imminent, and when that day comes, our son needs to be as far away from it as he can get! Lucius, you know that the Dark Lord will return, and if he does, all of us are in danger!"

Selina was highly uncomfortable as she overheard their conversation, knowing that Lord Voldemort's potential return was certainly a serious possibility that could not be ignored. Draco seemed genuinely afraid as he picked up on the many alarming concerns that his mother had. 

  "Do not change the subject, Narcissa!" Lucius snapped furiously. "When our son was born, I wanted him to attend Durmstrang, and you said no, so I allowed it. When I suggested we teach him the spells he really needs to know to defend himself, you said no again. When I suggested we give him a talk about what it is I do for this family, you said no, again! You have never respected my authority in this family, nor have you ever respected the many sacrifices I have  for this family!" 

  "Don't be ridiculous, I am more than appreciative of the sacrifices you've made, but we both have made sacrifices for our son!" Narcissa yelled back at him. "You became a Death Eater, and you supported the Dark Lord's cause. You fought for what our families have believed in for thousands of years, but then, we lost the war, and you had to fight for your son to keep yourself out of Azkaban. It is because I respect what you and I have both done for our son that I will not let a worse fate befall him!"

  "You're just afraid of losing your precious little boy!" Lucius snarled with genuine animosity. "You'd rather he be shielded his whole life than fight in the cause we both believe in."

  "Of course I would rather he be safe!" Narcissa screamed at him. "He is our son before our heir, and I would rather protect him than see him     imprisoned, or God help us, killed!"

  "I see," Lucius replied coldly. "So, no one can even think about laying a finger on our son, but I can risk my life every...single...day, and that's perfectly alright with you, is that it!" 

Narcissa gasped loudly, appalled at her husband's gall. Draco listened intently to their arguing, refusing to let it go as Selina could only stand there and listen with him. 

  "You can't stand even the mere idea our son being in danger for one second, and yet the idea of me dying isn't even a concern?!" Lucius seethed. 

  "Stop asking me ridiculous questions, you're blowing everything entirely out of proportion!"

  "Don't you speak to me as if I'm your subordinate, I am the man of this house! I am, and have always been, the one who provides for this family!" he roared. 

  Narcissa seemed to have no amount of tolerance left for him. "You have also always been the one who constantly jeopardizes the reputation of this family!" 

  "You love your precious son more than you could ever love me, is that it?!" he completely ignored his wife.

  "Yes, of course that's it, you pompous arse!" Narcissa shrieked. "You may be my husband, and I may love you more than you will ever know, but my son is, and will always be, my first priority! That's what having a child is, Lucius, you put them first and you do whatever needs to be done to give them the life they deserve!"

Selina could see Draco crying softly as he listened to his mother. It broke her heart to see him covering his mouth as he cried so that his parents wouldn't hear him through the door. She knew just how much Draco was hurting because of his parents, and she wanted to help even if there wasn't much she could do, but what Lucius Malfoy said next she knew would destroy Draco in a way that couldn't be undone, and he had no idea at all. 

  "I'm sorry, but if that means I have to love my son more than my husband, than so be it," Narcissa said, her voice breaking sadly. "I'm sorry, Lucius, but I will never fail to be a mother to my son! I love you, I do, but ever since I became a mother, you have never been my first thought."

  "Well, then," Lucius said quietly, sounding hurt by what she'd said, "Perhaps we never should have had a son."

Complete silence followed Lucius's final say on the matter, as if they had just both given up on the subject entirely. Selina had no idea what had followed the conclusion of that argument, but she knew that even if Lucius and Narcissa could move past it, Draco couldn't. He cried softly, his hand still covering his mouth. Selina gently laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to help ease the pain. Did felt as if she were watching from afar as his sobs became quieter and further apart, until they quickly faded into nothing. He wiped his face with his sleeve, the emotion slowly disappearing from his face altogether. He turned away from his parents' door, a hopeless, empty look in his eyes as he walked down the hall. 

  "Draco..." Selina said softly. 

He only shook his head, forcibly shutting his eyes for a moment as he tried to hold in the pain he was feeling.

  "I don't care anymore," he said, his tone alluding to the idea that this statement might've had a more broad meaning to it. 

  "Draco, I know what he said to her was awful," Selina began, "But I don't think he meant it—"

  "Doesn't matter..." he shook his head, his tone deceivingly light and airy. "Doesn't matter. I don't care anymore. He can say whatever he likes, he's dead to me."

  "I know how you feel," she offered, trying to be more empathetic than overbearingly sympathetic.

  "He's my father, and I'm the family's heir, but other than that, he doesn't exist to me," Draco announced, a sense of freedom in his tone. "He doesn't want a son? Fine. He doesn't need one."

With that being said, he walked up the stairs to his own bedroom, as Selina watched him, unable to help whatsoever. She tried to speak to him about what had happened, but he refused to talk about it, insisting on acting as if nothing had happened, so she decided to humor him. They ate dinner with his parents, pretending easily as if they hadn't heard anything that had been said before, and somehow, Draco seemed more at ease that night at the table than he did when he'd argued with his father. Selina noticed that once Draco had all but renounced his father, he seemed to remove himself from the situation entirely. Draco really became his father's son in nothing more than a genetic capacity. Nothing Lucius could've said or did bothered him anymore, as if he'd just flipped a switch inside of him. The way he so quickly changed his stance on his relationship with his father almost scared Selina, but only because she knew what it felt like to be capable of such a thing. 

*****

Christmas Eve arrived shortly, it seemed. Letters had been exchanged between Selina and Draco and all of their other friends. Selina had written the most to Jasper and Amana, and Selina had caught Draco a few times at his desk writing short letters to Pansy. Seeing the way Draco so childishly hid his consideration for Pansy Parkinson made Selina miss Jasper. She missed spending time with him at school, walking around with him, joking with him, and seeing him watching intently from the stands during some of her Quidditch practices. Somehow, Selina had felt that she performed even better with him watching. His support was everything to her, whether it was for a Quidditch match, or in helping Draco. In turn, she felt she was at her best when she was offering her support to him, listening to his complaints about his family, or encouraging him on his path to someday becoming a professional Healer, or simply being there to walk with him or sit and talk to him. He meant a lot to her, and was slowly becoming a part of her everyday routine as she'd remembered to write him back every night since the holidays had begun. The problem wasn't necessarily that she didn't have any feelings for Jasper, but more so that she'd never thought about them before, much less expressed them, to anyone. 

No matter what she felt when she initially looked at Jasper Carroll, Selina had always remembered to see him as just her friend, the one who just smiled when he spoke to her, and cheered her on when she played Quidditch. When Selina looked at Jasper, she saw a lot of pleasant things, things that she's never seen in anyone else before. But Selina knew that, from the only practice in human contact she'd had since she was born, she wasn't meant to get too close to anyone. Selina knew that, at the end of the day, it was easiest for her to just be a friend, the kind of person you spoke to and then left and the end of the day. Selina knew that the only real relationship she'd ever had was with her grandmother, who had only taught her the worst ways to interact with people. As bad as Selina knew her grandmother was, she also knew that even her grandmother had told her that she could never make anyone happy. And Selina had accepted that, if even Dominique Morais determined that someone was unlovable, they probably were, considering that she was the queen of being unlovable. If anyone knew anything about how to repulse others, it was her. 

Five Years Ago

It was Christmas morning, and Selina had woken up, hoping for a Christmas morning breakfast. She had gotten herself ready as she went down to the estate's main living room. She hoped to find her grandmother making breakfast, or having already prepared something. Selina eventually found her grandmother sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, sipping on a martini. She was staring at the fire thoughtless, enjoying one of her rare drinks for the special occasion.

  "Gran?" Selina said quietly, walking up behind her. 

  "What is it?" her grandmother asked, barely looking at her. 

  "Is there anything to eat?" she asked anxiously.

  Selina's grandmother nodded. "There's some oatmeal, left in the kitchen," she said indifferently. 

Selina sighed, giving up on the idea of a nice meal as she left to eat her breakfast, alone. 

  "It's Christmas, so there's twenty-five galleons for you on the table!"

  "Okay! Thank you!" she called. 

Selina ate her breakfast of cold oatmeal alone in the kitchen, not bothering to sit at the table. She thought again for a moment about how much she missed her mother, and for the thousandth time that things would have ended up so differently if Adeline had still been alive. Selina didn't cry about her mother much anymore. After a while, it just became something that she knew was a part of her life, or rather something that wasn't anymore. Selina was used to eating her meals at home alone, wishing she could have had someone to share them with who actually wanted her around. After she'd eaten her breakfast, Selina put away the gold coins her grandmother had given her, returning downstairs to at least spend time with another person. She sat down about a foot from her grandmother on the sofa, keeping her eyes fixed on her own lap as she slowly kicked her feet back and forth, trying to find something to say to fill the silence. 

  "Merry Christmas, Selina," the old woman smiled at her granddaughter.

  Selina smiled gingerly, waiting for the pleasantness of her demeanor to twist and contort into something ugly. "Merry Christmas, Gran," she murmured. 

Selina looked over at her grandmother, waiting to see if she had anything else to say. 

  "You know, the only gift I could ask for is to have your mother back again," Dominique thought aloud with a smile on her face. 

  The little girl studied her. "Me too," she said softly.

  "She'd be alive, you know," she whispered, suddenly seething with rage. "She'd still be alive, if it wasn't for you."

Five Years Later 

Selina Romanov sat silently at the table, almost catatonic. 

  "Sel? Sel," Draco Malfoy whispered, capturing her attention with a start.

  "...What?" she stammered, as if just waking up.

  "Are you okay?" Draco questioned, looking to her for a response.

Selina looked around to see everyone at the table looking at her. She cleared her throat as she tried to remember what had been said at the table as she focused herself.  

  "Sorry, what?" she asked.

  "Nothing, dear, it's of little consequence," Narcissa waved off the question, "Have you heard from your grandmother or your uncle Igor at all today?"

  "Oh... Yes," Selina said honestly, recalling the sack of gold and letter her owl had delivered that morning. 

  "I expect you probably miss your grandmother," Lucius conjectured, eating his turkey. "And your parents."

His wife automatically flashed him a horrified look, embarrassed at her husband's lack of consideration. Draco also looked embarrassed, mouthing an exasperated apology as he shook his head at his father. 

  "...Yeah," Selina responded, emphasizing the obviousness of her answer, "I do."

Selina and Draco were both shortly dismissed from dinner, sitting alone upstairs as they prepared themselves for eggnog around the fireplace until midnight with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Selina sat on her bed reading a letter she'd gotten from her Uncle Igor, her father's older brother, who was weirdly the only person she was biologically related to who she actually liked. Igor had been traveling the world for the past few years, rarely being on the same continent as his niece. Igor Romanov was an eccentric man who used his fortune to travel to strange and distant lands to do God knows what, who also had at least about ten different girlfriends per continent, excluding Antarctica, at least as far as Selina knew. She loved receiving her weekly letters from her Uncle Igor, where he would tell fantastical stories about his travels, and would often send her a little memento from wherever he currently was. This time, he had sent her a magical firecracker from Thailand, which she had prudently decided would be best to save. He had also wished her a happy Christmas, and had sent her a beautiful golden dragon, supposedly enchanted to bring luck and protection, as her formal Christmas gift. Selina had also just received a letter delivered by Jasper's owl, which had sat on Draco's windowsill until she opened it. She pet Jasper's owl, Arwen, watching it fly away as she eagerly opened up the letter. Jasper certainly meant more to Selina than she knew, which became clear once she read the letter that he'd sent her late that night on Christmas Eve.

Dear Selina,

I hope you're having a good Christmas Eve up at the Malfoys'. My family's doing well, and they all 'send their regards'. Except for Jamie, he's an arsehole. He just says to tell you 'hey', and congratulations on the win against Ravenclaw. I thought I'd send you a little gift, something I think you'd appreciate.

She paused her reading of the letter to look inside the small envelope, reaching in to find what he'd been referring to. It seemed Jasper had sent her a little blue flower that was almost purple. She looked back down at the letter he'd written for the explanation. 

...I finally mastered Orchideous. Sort of. I somehow grew a few of these, and I thought you'd like one. Merry Christmas. You deserve nice things, you know. You deserve beautiful things. I hope you don't mind me saying, but, if I'm being honest, I think you deserve the world. You're smart, you're funny, you're kind, you're beautiful, and you've come to have a sort of sacred place in my heart, you know. You mean a lot to me, and honestly, the idea of you spending time at the Malfoys' makes me feel a bit bad for you. I just know Malfoy's kind of an arse to you, and I just feel you deserve for someone to be nothing but nice to you. I really like you, Selina. And I love having you as my friend, but I also feel something even deeper for you. I just had to tell you, because I'd like the chance to tell you in person how beautiful and endearing I find you. Good night, and Merry Christmas again. 

Jasper Carroll

Selina was stunned, sitting still on her bed as she  could only keep reading what he'd written on the piece of parchment she'd been sent. She could hardly speak. At first she thought about telling Draco, but for some reason, she felt unable to process things with his relentless teasing going on in the background. Selina panicked internally, fixated on how she would have to kindly reject Jasper in a letter. It wasn't until then that she realized that she had just jumped to a conclusion assuming that she would have to reject him at all.  The more she thought about it, the more she saw that, this time, she didn't want to reject the boy confessing his feelings to her at all, like she had all the others. Jasper wasn't anything like Goyle, or Montague. Selina liked Jasper, and thought he was handsome, without also finding him irritating or loathsome at all. She knew she liked him, and that perhaps she had silently fancied him ever since she had met him when she was twelve, and he was thirteen. When he had first asked her her name, she had almost grinned like an idiot looking into his soft green eyes. They were inquisitive and kind, and they still made her smile to this day. 

One Year Ago

Draco Malfoy followed Selina Romanov as she flew down towards the pitch after their game against Gryffindor. Regrettably, Draco and Selina had lost their first ever Quidditch match played on the Slytherin team, not aware that it would turn out to be the only game they would get to play that school year. 

  "Move, Romanov! I want to take a nap!" Draco complained as he flew behind his friend.

  "Why? Does little baby Malfoy need to cry himself to sleep because he lost to Harry Potter?" she mocked him as he soared back down beside her, laughing as he tried to shove her. 

The two of them dropped their broomsticks on the ground as they laughed, shoving each other jokingly. They had probably shoved one another five times before they had noticed a flashing camera interrupting them. A Hufflepuff boy was snapping photos of the two of them on the Quidditch pitch. Standing beside him was a taller Slytherin boy, watching them as they had their pictures taken. Draco smiled for the camera, a bragging grin on his face as he picked up his broom again, posing with it just like any professional Quidditch player in the picture beside an editorial. Selina rolled her eyes as the boy took the photos of Draco, capturing him in his element as he emphasized his importance with all sorts of different victorious smiles, no longer upset by their loss against the Gryffindor team. 

  "Go on, Romanov," the Hufflepuff boy encouraged her excitedly, "Get in the pictures!"

  "Come on!" Draco yelled to her. 

Selina stepped beside Draco, smiling proudly for the camera as he happily wrapped his arm around her, the two of them looking like genuine teammates. 

  "Perfect!" Ian Murray, the Hufflepuff boy, screamed over the noisy crowd. "Thank you!" he said as he lowered his camera. 

The two of them nodded and smiled, as Draco joined the other boys on the team, who were still angry about the game. 

  "These are gonna come out great!" the tall boy with longer black hair called. 

  "Thanks!"

Selina smiled and waved at him, leaving the pitch to change out of her uniform in order to avoid dealing with the other angry Slytherins, especially Flint. She kept waving to him, smiling tentatively as she went back and forth on whether or not she would actually say anything else to him. She had wanted to talk to him so badly, to ask him his name and let him ask her whatever he wanted, but nothing had come out. She'd scolded herself for caring so much, pushing the moment out of her mind until she'd encountered him again, with her friends in the school library.

One Year Later 

Even now, Selina still thought about when she'd first met Jasper. She hardly remembered it until he'd reminded her before. She was surprised she'd forgotten it, given the impression that Jasper Carroll had made on her when they first met. From the moment she saw Jasper, she was intrigued by him. Whether or not she could allow herself the momentary lapse in humility to admit that he had also been intrigued by the girl he'd saw flying proudly across the Quidditch pitch, he had also been enamored with her when they first met. She never would have guessed it from his usual, relaxed demeanor, but the second he had met Selina Romanov, Jasper Carroll was stunned by her, certain he'd never met anyone as brilliantly magnetic as she was. Her very presence had an effect on him, something he could hardly put into words. Looking at her was like staring at the sun, your eyes blinded by indescribable colors that were too interesting to understand. Selina certainly liked the way Jasper looked at her, the way he seemed intensely focused on her no matter what she had to say. She was the one he constantly forgot how to breathe around, and unlike the other boys like Goyle, mindlessly enamored with her pretty face and green skirt that brought out her eyes, this didn't make her think less of him at all. The way in which he was obsessed with her wasn't at all stupid, or vain. It was genuine, and went deeper than she understood.

  "You ready to spend two hours with my parents?" Draco asked her. 

  She struggled to answer him, her eyes widening like a deer in headlights. "Yeah."

  "I keep thinking how excited I am for Christmas," Draco shared, "But then, I stop and I think, 'What do I even have to really look forward to'?"

Selina frowned, sharing his pain. 

  "What, is a new broomstick supposed to make me forget that my father doesn't want to be my father?" he asked himself. "Is my grandfather's ring supposed to make up for my father not wanting to look at me?" 

  "I got a sack of gold, and some of my mother's old things just to placate me until the holidays are over," Selina expressed emptily. "But I suppose that's more useful to me than a hug, or an apology."

Draco looked at her sadly, understanding her current train of thought all too well. 

  "I'm finding I don't want any of that either," he admitted. "I'm done with hugs. I'm done with 'I love you's', I'm done with second and third and fourth chances... If there's anything that makes things better, it's money. Money's never done me wrong," he said.

  "You're not wrong there," Selina offered humorously. 

  "My father doesn't think I'll do it, but I will, you know. I'll get a job, not even have to rely on our fortune," Draco told her with an intense seriousness to his tone. "I'll make enough money in my life to support generations, and generations, and generations of Malfoy's! I'll be richer than my father," he vowed.

  "'You know, you'd be a lot more successful if you stopped competing with your father," she proposed.

  Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "How so?"

  "If all you ever strive to be is just better than your father, than that's all you'll ever get to be," she reasoned. "But you strive to bet better than yourself, and there's no telling what you could do."

Draco thought about her advice, considering how she might be right. 

  "We're in Slytherin after all. We don't succeed just because of other people," Selina scoffed. "We succeed because it's who we are."

They looked at each other, sharing in the pain that moved them.

  "Doing things for other people is pathetic, even if it's out of spite. I want to be more than a mewling, whining child. I want to be a god."

  "Maybe we can be," Draco suggested, "Some day."

  "Why wait?" she questioned. "Between the both of us, we know a good amount of spells. All we have to do is keep going."

  "I don't know as many spells as you, though," he admitted.

  "You could," she pointed out. "All you'd have to do is learn. And you learn fast. There's nothing stopping you and I from becoming the most powerful witch and wizard to ever exist."

  "That would be something, wouldn't it?" Draco thought, as if the idea were so distant to him that it couldn't have been real.

*****

Selina sat with the Malfoy family before the fireplace, as Narcissa peacefully divided gift boxes from underneath the Christmas tree. The Malfoy family tradition was that everyone got to open one box each at midnight on Christmas eve. She opened a gift from her son as her husband opened the gift she'd gotten for him, the two of them still set on acting as if nothing had happened between them even though both of the children were well aware that wasn't true. Draco decided he'd open a gift he'd gotten from his mother, just as she placed a small, gift-wrapped box in front of Selina. 

  "Here you go, sweetheart," she said. "This one's from me. There's one from Lucius, and one from Draco, too."

  "Really?" Selina thought aloud, surprised. "That's so kind of you. Thank you."

  "It's no trouble at all," she promised. "We just wanted you to be able to celebrate like a part of our family."

Selina smiled, graciously accepting the gift she'd been gotten for Christmas.

  "Alright. Let's all open," Narcissa said with a smile.

Draco impatiently opened one of the gifts he'd gotten from his mother, an enchanted fountain pen that seemed to be able to write things even its user didn't know, the kind that, naturally, was banned at Hogwarts, enforced through various anti-cheating jinxes. Although Narcissa hadn't considered this, it would still be possible to complete an assignment using this pen and merely copy the answers onto another piece of parchment before handing it in. Narcissa Malfoy had opened a fancy scarf made of blue cashmere that Draco had gotten for her from Diagon Alley, proudly hugging her son. Lucius opened a beautiful set of gold cuff links his wife had gotten him, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. Selina unwrapped the box from Narcissa, expecting a simple gift purely meant as a friendly gesture for the holidays. But instead, she found a beautiful glass bottle that looked like it was just a giant diamond. It was a spray bottle, filled with a magical perfume in the form of a clear, sparkling liquid. The bottle read 'Le Charme d'Amour' in fancy cursive letters. Curious, Selina took the glass top off the bottle, smelling it. In awe of its strange properties, she all but gasped. 

  "That smells amazing," she remarked, looking up at everyone else in disbelief. 

  "I'm glad you like it," Narcissa said in her low, elegant voice. "It's a new perfume I discovered, from a witch in Milan. It's got a very low percentage of Amortentia."

  "The love potion?" 

  "Yes, just enough to emit the same scents," Narcissa nodded. "What do you smell?"

   "I don't know... Cherries? Roses? Vanilla?" Selina guessed. "It's hard to describe."

  "Everyone smells something different when they smell it, but it smells good to everyone," Narcissa explained, "Supposedly in the same way."

Selina held the bottle out towards Draco, who

smelled it eagerly.

  "I smell the cherries," he stated, trying to make out the other aromas as he shook off the effects of the spell. 

  "It's incredible," Selina murmured, impressed as she put the cap on the bottle. 

  "Supposedly, the Amortentia has a very slight effect on people when you wear it," Narcissa considered, "But it's not thought to be noticeable at all. It's less than one percent Amortentia. But every time I where it, it seems I turn more heads, and more doors are held open for me," she said as Lucius shot her a look of disapproval.

  "I see," Selina thought. 

  "It's a very lucky sort of spell," Narcissa offered. "I figured it would make a nice gift."

  "Certainly. Thank you, it smells amazing," Selina admitted.

  "That's the thing; it smells great to everyone," the woman remarked. "Very convenient, really. It'll get you lots of compliments, for sure."

Selina smiled, happy to receive such a special gift. In some ways, Narcissa Malfoy was more of a mother to her than anyone she'd ever met, apart from Amana Tesfaye's mother. No woman had ever been so genuinely kind toward her in her life since her mother had died. Narcissa may have been strange, and oddly formal at times, but still she had demonstrated more of an interest in Selina than anyone else ever had, including her own grandmother. Selina definitely knew a lot of questionable people, definitely including all of the Malfoys, but she knew that she couldn't be picky. It didn't matter if the Malfoys were shallow, or rude, or just uncomfortable to spend time with sometimes. Ultimately it didn't matter that they were practically both Death Eaters, or that they openly hated Muggles, because Selina knew that her own family, specifically on her father's side, wasn't any better. She also knew that, unlike most of her own family, the Malfoys actually cared for her, and supported her, despite all of their messy drama and other flaws. They weren't the best of people at times, but they were a family, a family which actually welcomed Selina. Selina wasn't exactly an expert at showing affection given the environment that she'd grown up in, but with the Malfoys, nothing was expected of her, but everything was welcome. 

Lucius and Narcissa drank their eggnog fairly quietly as they enjoyed watching the fire, listening to the old records playing on the gramophone. Draco also enjoyed the music that his parents played around the holidays, usually pleasant love songs that they would also dance to together when they were in better moods. Needless to say, this year, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had remained seated on their couch, still holding one another's hand from a distance. It was sad to see, Selina thought as she observed them, but it was also beautiful in a very melancholic how the two of them tried to remain physically close in one, single way despite the problems that they had. Draco was similar to his parents in that he'd learned to keep the people he cared about close, no matter how angry he might've been with them. Selina had noticed this, in the way he always sat near her, or Crabbe and Goyle, no matter how much any of them had offended him on any given day. She had always thought that Draco had absorbed a lot of his parents' behaviors, even if he was mostly recognized for exhibiting the bad ones. 

Selina sat in silence next to Draco, listening to the beautiful music that played that night as they drank their eggnog.

  "I'm kind of glad they canceled the Christmas party this year," Draco told her privately. "I never realized how nice it is to spend Christmas with a small group of people."

  "Almost my whole life, Christmas has just been me and my grandmother," Selina spoke softly. "I've had a lot of things to say about that, but one word I'd never use to describe it is 'nice'," she remarked with a deep emptiness in her voice. 

  "I meant... it's nice to spend Christening with a small group of people you love," he corrected himself, feeling strange as he realized 'love' might've been the wrong word to use in this context. "Oh. I almost forgot."

He pulled the two gift boxes from his pocket they'd gotten at Knockturn Alley, from the enchanted rings.

  "Might as well give you your birthday present since yours is in January," he shrugged nonchalantly. 

Selina chuckled, opening the little black leather box, revealing the silver ring with the dark gemstones. She handed the ring to Draco, who held hers and his own in his hand, reading the incantation from the slip of paper provided by Bellicent Cobbe. 

  "Simulaeternum," he murmured, pointing his wand.

A faint white light enveloped the two rings he held together in his hand. He held up both pieces of jewelry to his eye level, handing Selina her ring  once he'd examined them.

  "Let's test them out," he said finally.

She nodded, slipping the ring onto her index finger. Remembering what the witch had said about using the rings to communicate, she gave hers a couple of slight taps, waiting for results. After a delay of about a second, Draco's eyes widened with surprise as he felt a gentle squeezing on his finger, as if someone had been holding onto it. 

  "Bloody hell, it does work," he realized. "Coolest thing I've ever bought, and that's saying something. Because I've bought a lot of things. Because I'm rich," he stated obviously. 

  "Not a bad find at all," Selina agreed. 

She sat with him in contentment. They watched the fire dancing in the fireplace, listening to the ambient sound of smooth jazz love songs filling the living room sipping on eggnog. Although she wanted to feel more peaceful in that moment, she knew she couldn't completely relax until she knew what her response to Jasper was going to be. Selina what chose she was going to make, nor did she know what her options were. She liked Jasper, and she knew she could be very happy with him, but she didn't know what she actually wanted. She didn't understand how a person could truly care for someone, but not want to be with them, but she also knew that this was the sort of thing that just couldn't be simplified. As much as Selina felt she fancied him, she also wasn't sure that actually being with someone was a promise she could keep. 

  "Hey," Draco's voice suddenly interrupted her inner monologue. "What's wrong?"

She readjusted to where she was slowly, her eyes taking longer to focus on what was in front of her. 

  "What?" she piped up.

  "What's got your knickers in a twist?" he asked.

  "Nothing," she said as she shook off the thoughts. 

  He frowned. "'Nothing' as in 'dead mum stuff'?" he asked cautiously.

  "No," Selina promised, "Definitely not."

He didn't seem to understand the nature of her tone.

  "Then I don't understand," he admitted, "Otherwise, you're set."

  "I don't know. Just trying to figure out how I actually feel," she thought aloud.

  "Sometimes, I have trouble with that too, you know," Draco confided in her. "Like with Pansy."

  His example intrigued her. "How so?" she wondered.

  "Well, I know she fancies me," he began thoughtfully.

  "Who doesn't at this point?" she asked impatiently.

  "Yeah, well... I know she does," he ignored the question. "And I know I fancy her too. I know that when you fancy someone, and they feel the same, that's all you need to know," he presented logically. 

She nodded slowly, realizing the parallels between their situations and feelings toward them.

  "So, I'm thinking, if I fancy her too, then just go and be with her," he concluded quickly. "But, I have this... weird feeling that might not be what I want after all."

Selina said nothing, taking in what he said as she began to find herself deeper into the conversation. She held onto his every word, trying to piece together every reaction and motivation in his brain. 

  "I feel like, even though I fancy her and she fancies me, there's still something else missing," he analyzed, "But I just don't know what if could be."

  She absorbed everything he said, trying to figure out just how intertwined their feelings might be. "Sometimes, I feel like the only reason I'm not set on how I feel is because I know I'm wrong somehow."

  "Yeah. Like maybe I want something different, but I don't quite know what," Draco contemplated. 

Neither of them had anything helpful to add after that. They continued the next few moments in silence, finishing their egg nog before eventually retiring to Draco's room for the night. Selina was laying down on her bed trying to fall asleep, as Draco got into his own bed. She turned away from him facing the door as she laid there with her eyes wide open, trying to think. She couldn't allow herself to sleep, and was maddened by all the different possibilities that presented themselves as she lie awake.

  "Merry Christmas, Sel," Draco mumbled as he fell asleep.

  "Merry Christmas, Draco," she replied, knowing she wouldn't be getting much sleep.

*****

Christmas morning filled Selina with a feeling of relief at how rejuvenating it was. She and Draco had woken up late at the same time, having spent in past noon. They had cleaned up, feeling refreshed, before coming downstairs to the smell of fresh cookies. They had eaten a plentiful Christma morning breakfast prepared by the family chef, an old Squib from Italy, before indulging in the gingerbread cookies and milk. Selina realized she had plenty of other things on her mind as she sat at the table that morning alone with Draco as Lucius and Narcissa sat in the living room, having already eaten their share. It was definitely an interesting thought that, as she watched him impatiently dunking his cookies in milk, looking at them in approval once he tasted that they were soft enough, but not too soft. It hadn't occurred to her before that, perhaps the reason behind her reluctance to admit feelings for Jasper was because she had even stronger ones for Draco. Yes, it was a strange and almost embarrassing development in her situation, but Selina couldn't deny that she'd heard it speculated so many different times that she thought it might be true. It was a funny idea, Selina fancying Draco Malfoy, but she knew that no matter how aware she was that Draco was still in fact Draco, it was still possible that she'd felt something for him as the years went by. 

After all, they'd always gotten along well, when they were really determined. Selina cared for him very deeply, especially at their age, and she was almost beginning to feel that it was just one of those situations where you had to at least entertain the idea. She knew that even if she shouldn't say it out loud, she did love him on some level. Naturally, she'd always assumed she just loved him like a brother, feeling a devoted level of friendship between them. But she also felt that there were parts of her that didn't know how to feel around Draco. Selina understood that, regardless, and would've fought for Draco or died for him. She knew that she liked seeing him happy, and hated to see him hate himself. She could tell every word of what he was thinking just by the look on his face, but didn't know if that was enough. She had no experience with crushes, or access reputable sources for advice. A part of Selina certainly wanted to see him, eventually exploring what was waiting for them beyond the confines of platonic friendship, although an admittedly overwhelming amount of her conscious also wanted to remain unattached to everyone, not limited in her options. But it wasn't so much because she wanted everyone than it was that she worried she secretly wanted no one. Although Selina had always been the kind of person who could've easily told you what they wanted, she also wasn't exactly the kind of person who typically laid all their cards on the table.

Selina Romanov was very opinionated about many things, and almost always had her own take on things whether or not she actually shared it. She rarely ever made grand gestures, or spoke up very passionately, or publicly took firm stances on any particular issue. She'd always had a quirky fear of being too publicly opinionated, because Selina always maintained her almost impossible sense of neutrality and empathetic acceptance in order to convince people that she was their other half through shallow agreement and thoughtless pandering. Selina often infiltrated entire social circles just by agreeing with the people she met and playing the mediator in disputes so that she always ended up in favor of both sides. Because of her popularity amongst Slytherins and others alike, and her friendship with other intimidating Slytherins, Selina's kindness, when it made an appearance, was always perceived as untrustworthy or disingenuous. Even she was forgetting who she was underneath all of it, forgetting what her own opinions really were, or what her genuine personality was like. Selina always feared she was no one underneath all of the pretending, that every day, once she was finally alone, there was nothing left under all the charming smiles and quick nods. Selina always had an agenda, a motivation for every little thing she did, but the bigger picture would almost always lead back to her status, or her future career as an adult witch, which always took priority over her own various whims and emotions, including the sort of feelings she had for Jasper. 

Selina cared deeply for him, which everyone knew. He was practically her other half, and was, in her opinion, the smartest, funniest person she'd ever met. She constantly looked forward to spending time with him, and she loved the special way he would pay attention to her, and only her. There was only one small issue that she could think of to make her believe that she truly wanted Draco instead, which was that Jasper Carroll, as kind and handsome as he was, just wasn't Draco Malfoy. Why that was a bad thing, Selina still had no idea. Draco Malfoy was immature, mean, and impossible to get along with. Being around him always felt like babysitting. Selina knew that if she were to somehow end up with him, she'd never be able to get a moment's peace ever again. Why she felt the need to willingly subject herself to that, she had no idea. But everything was almost serene at Malfoy Manor that Christmas morning, between Draco silently downing his mug of hot chocolate, and his parents opening the gifts he'd gotten each of them for the holidays. 

  "Oh, the chocolates, I can't believe you remembered!" Narcissa exclaimed. "Thank you so much, my darling, I love you," she said softly as she hugged her son.

Draco hugged his mother back, only becoming awkward as he realized Selina had been looking. Not surprising anyone, Lucius Malfoy was very composed, to say the least, as he opened his gift from his son, which was a signed former broomstick handle of a legendary Quidditch player, that Draco had spent months tracking down as a surprise. Of course, this was before he had truly been illuminated on the subject of his relationship with his father. Lucius hardly seemed thoroughly impressed by the gift from his son. This led to an angry look to Selina once he was no longer paying attention to Draco, which never seemed to take long. 

  "Oh, Draco?" Narcissa said in an airy tone. "Did you want your gift to Selina?" 

  "Oh, yes," Lucius Malfoy chimed in, "Let's all let Selina open her gifts."

  "Wow, you didn't have to do all this," she said almost guiltily as they placed a few boxes out in front of her. 

  "No one 'has to' do anything, we just wanted to," Draco spat. "Open them."

  "Draco, be polite," Lucius scoffed at his manners, "Malfoy men are gentlemen."

  "Yeah," Selina agreed with a grin, liking the concept, "They are."

  "Ha-ha, you're hilarious," he said flatly.

Selina opened the gifts addressed to her on beautiful calligraphy labels from Lucius and Narcissa, revealing a luxurious cashmere scarf, a designer quill, and a stylish black coat. Having friends like the Malfoys once again proved to be a very lucrative opportunity. 

  "Open my present," Draco told her softly. 

  She looked down at the box wrapped in delicate black and gold paper, suspicious of it. "It's not gonna release some sort of dung bomb, is it?"

  "Just open the damn box," Draco sighed exasperatedly. 

  "Don't be a neanderthal," Lucius snapped, much to Draco's dismay. 

Selina opened Draco's present, surprised at how innocent of a gift it was as she opened the box it was contained in. It seemed to be another box, carved from beautiful dark wood, etched with beautiful flowers and designs that his various ancient runes. She opened the wooden box, revealing a tiny porcelain ballerina on the inside. Selina was confused, to say the least, as she examined the tiny little danced with long dark hair and painted blue eyes, which bore an eerie to herself. 

  "A music box?" she held it up, not understanding. 

Narcissa and Lucius both leaned in, getting a closer look at the magical item Draco had found in an antique store.

  "Oh. I see," Lucius Malfoy murmured as he examined it.

  "I've heard about these, but never actually seen one," she said in awe, glancing at her son. "Draco... This very Dark magic."

Even Narcissa seemed startled by this unknown object. Selina was worried, given that she was aware that Narcissa Malfoy wasn't exactly a stranger to the Dark Arts. 

  "It's a wonderful gift for Selina," Lucius approved.

  "What? You can't just give that to someone—"

Selina looked back and forth between all of them, trying to figure out what Narcissa was so concerned about.

  His wife looked at him in surprise. "Lucius..."

  "What is it?" Selina asked Draco, not aware at all of what it was.

The Malfoy's all hesitated, as Lucius looked down and gave his son a small nod of permission, egging him on even as Narcissa's eyes half begged him not to.

  "Here," he said softly, taking out the small ingredient bags. "You take one of these, and you put it in the box," he showed her.

  "The human vocal chords..." she whispered, realizing the potency of this form of magic. "And then what?" she asked, watching as he closed the wooden box. 

  "Did you get anything of your mother's? Something small, that you're willing to part with?" he thought. 

She nodded, rushing upstairs as everyone waited expectantly. She handed Draco the small box of belongings her grandmother had sent her. Draco looked through the box, searching until he settled on Adeline's old hairbrush, which still had many of her own hairs stuck to it. Selina watched in confusion as Draco pulled a single, long brown hair from the brush. Selina watched his cold, pale hands, carefully setting the single strand of hair down inside the box before closing it. 

  "Now you just turn this knob, here," he said softly.

She held onto the box with him, watching him slowly turn the delicate key on the side of the box, as a small sound was emitted from the music box. A quiet tune played, sounding beautiful but disturbing at the same time. Everyone listened to the tune intently, patiently waiting. Soon enough, a small, frail voice accompanied the music. The voice was quiet and labored, as if speaking despite a sore throat, but Selina could've recognized it anywhere. 

  "Selina," the voice whispered, as Narcissa's eyes widened. "Selina, I miss you... Selina, I love you."

The voice had died out, but the tune still remained, playing as Selina desperately held onto the music box, tears falling suddenly as she frantically held it up, listening again for the voice as the music eventually died out.

  Narcissa turned to her husband, her voice meek and shaky. "Is that...?"

  "Mum," Selina murmured, looking over at Draco. "Is that... Is that really her?" she asked, fearful that she was being deceived. 

No one in the room said a word at the uncomfortable topic.

  "Was that my mother?" Selina Romanov asked in horror. 

  "I, erm... I don't know how it works, exactly," Draco admitted. "But, that's her, that's her voice. Y-You don't hate it, do you?"

  "No," she gasped, leaping into his arms as she gave him a grateful hug, "Thank you."

Sure, most would have found the device creepy, or at least been offended by the gift one way or another, but Selina didn't mind. She was shocked at the gift Draco had gotten her, but still, nothing could have outweighed her relief at getting a chance to hear her mother's voice again, at least one more time. He returned her hug, relieved that she appreciated the gift and wasn't upset or angry with him. He held her close to him, sighing as she embraced him. 

  "That's all you have to do to use it. There's a good amount of those old vocal chords," he told her. "See?"

  "It's horrifying," Selina told him. "I love it."

Draco Malfoy let out a sigh of relief as he let go of her, opportunistically memorizing the expression of relief and gratitude on her face. Selina never would've expected he'd care enough to try and give her a piece of her mother she never thought she could've had again, even as misguided as the attempt seemed to be to everyone else, mainly Narcissa, but Selina didn't care. She didn't care how unorthodox or strange of a gift Draco had decided to give her. She knew it was the best gift she'd ever gotten before. Hearing her mother's voice had startled her, not in fear, but only in that she never thought she would have another chance to hear her mother speak to her again. She had done everything she could to try and keep reminders of her mother on her mind whenever she could, but nothing compared to hearing Adeline's voice speak to her again, after seven years. Selina remembered just how much she'd loved hearing her mothers voice, the way she had always sang at home, and laughed at everything. Ilya had always made fun of her for it, but Selina loved it. Now, her mother's laughter was one of the few things she still had to cling onto. Until now, of course. 

  "I just thought I'd get you something I knew you'd like," Draco broke the silence. "I couldn't get you your mother back, but..."

Selina nodded, shutting a few tears behind her eyelids as she tried to steady herself as Lucius and Narcissa left the room for their afternoon drinks. 

  "I knew you wouldn't have wanted anything silly, like a golden quill or a signed Quaffle," Draco offered. "So, I found this."

  "I appreciate it. A lot," she nodded earnestly.

  "You don't have to say anything," he provided. "I know. Well... I don't know, but I know," he reassured her. 

  "Thank you, Draco," she murmured, meaning so much more than she said.

  "You're welcome," he nodded simply. 

She sat alone next to him in her thoughts, silently breaking down every difference and similarity between him and Jasper. She knew why she was friends with them both, and she knew that she didn't understand the feelings she had for either of them. Jasper was precious to her, and Draco was always by her side. The way it was to everyone else, she had to be destined for one of them. She just had to be, it seemed. 

  "Jasper tells me he fancies me," Selina revealed hesitantly, not considering much before she spoke.

Draco froze, not looking her in the eye as he tried to actually understand what she'd said. 

  "Well about time," he mustered, his utilization of delayed sarcasm rather impressive. 

  "He said he wants to be with me," she murmured, unsure of what to think. "I don't know what to make of it," she confessed.

  "Well," Draco thought, trying to come up with something useful, "Do you fancy him?"

There was a strangely long pause after he'd asked that question.

  "...Is there any reason I shouldn't?" Selina asked vaguely.

  "What?" Draco questioned her.

  "Is there any reason I shouldn't be with him?" Selina wondered, seeming completely lost. "He told me he fancies me, and I feel like I should figure out if there's any reason I shouldn't fancy him. I almost worry there's something there, something I can't quite describe... But I have no idea what it could be."

She watched him, trying to determine what his train of thought was. Draco's thoughts were hard to follow, as he didn't seem to have much to say.

  "It all comes down to whether you fancy him," he stated. "Do you fancy him or not?"

  "I don't know," Selina admitted. "I just... I almost wonder if there's someone else that I really fancy," she admitted, trying to gauge his initial response.

  "Like who?" he asked.

  "I don't know," she said. "Anyone."

  "I don't think anyone looks at you the way Carroll looks at you," Draco responded stiffly. "I don't think you have anything that strong with anyone else."

She didn't know it then, but what Draco had told her was a genuine fear of his. 

  "...Okay," she murmured as he eventually looked away, not noticing the tear that rolled down her cheek, falling onto the floor just as unnoticed as any of her other feelings were on a face that hardly moved when happy or sad. "Maybe I was wrong."

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [7]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: I hope you guys really enjoy this chapter because I think its my favorite chapter so far! FYI, if I don't update this series in a while, it'll be because I am working on an 18+ oneshot for a collab for Bakugou's birthday. So if that does happen, the regular uploads will happen after Bakugou's birthday. And let me tell you, its going to be S P I C Y~

But I can't express how surprised I am by all the love I'm receiving! I really wish I could respond to all your comments, but again, this is my side blog so I can't comment! If ya'll want to follow me on my main... please dont. LOL not to be mean or anything but I don't use my main at all and I don't post ever so there's no point in following me there :)

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Your heart physically dropped when he said that. You felt sick. Your palms were sweating and shaking. The air around you grew dense and you felt like you couldn’t breath. You couldn’t move for that matter.

Ruin?

What would he do to you if he found out that you weren’t really a princess? That you were a fake lying to him this whole time. It made you sick, just imaging every cruel thing he could do once he found out. But then you remembered, he wasn’t like all the rumors you heard. He was different. He was kind and understanding. He wouldn’t really ruin you if he found out, would he? You shook away the thought. The more you think about it, the more you were likely to get caught.

You were completely exhausted from all that labor you produced in a week’s time. Town after town, you were able to help his people even if it was just a little bit. But it sure depleted a lot of energy out of you. You don’t know if you’ve ever been this drained before in your entire life. It’s not like you had to do hard physical labor back at the palace. This experience was hard on you but also gave you insight on the prince and his kingdom.

Completely drained of your energy, you sat down on one of the tree trunks his soldiers brought for you at the camp not far away from the village you were at. The impoverished village didn’t have enough shelter as is, so you were left with no option but to set up your own shelter. It wasn’t a big deal to you anyway since that’s how you’ve been spending your nights so far.

All the soldiers had gathered around to take a breather for the night and drink away the stress. You weren’t a drinker, but enjoyed the atmosphere the soldiers created: fun and rowdy, like they didn’t give a care in the world. They were dancing on tables, clinking their drinks together, singing songs while hooking their arms around each other’s shoulders.

You laughed at the sight and stretched out your arms. How you wanted to continue the night away but your muscles were soar and aching. A physical exhaustion that you weren’t used to and didn’t want to get used to.

Bakugou was watching his crew from the door, arms crossed and enjoying his crew have fun. He was never the one to be center of attention, so he had his own fun from the back. He saw the way you extended your arms, faced wincing from how sore you were. Cute. It was your last night of volunteer work, why not end the night with something special?

You felt the Blood Prince’s breath sneak up behind your neck, sending chills down your spine.

“Tired?” he asks.

“Maybe just a little,” you admit. You look up at him and he’s giving you those soft yet piercing eyes. He goes to sit next to you and everything is just… peaceful. In that moment you felt content. You felt free. If this was how life was out of the palace, if this was more to life than just serving a spoiled princess, then you didn’t want to leave.

“I am impressed, princess,” Bakugou spoke. “This whole trip, you never, not once sat out. You helped the whole time. Are you sure you’re a princess?” he side eyed you.

“If I am not a princess, then what am I?” you asked back. (y/n), what are you doing? You could expose yourself and everything would be ruined! But for some reason, you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to know his reaction and how he would respond. Maybe you would give up your whole mission for him.

“An innocent and hardworking beauty that is not a princess. She is my future queen who will help me restore this kingdom.” He came closer to you, meaning every single word. Your eyes softened and you got emotional, almost to the point of tears. He’s smiling at you, but suddenly gets up. But gestures for you to take his hand. Of course you did.

“I want to show you something,” he says and leads you away from the crowd of people and into the woods.

You two were walking for a while, your hand in his the whole way. He hadn’t told you where he was leading you to but it had to be something special if he was dragging you to what seemed like all across the country to get to your destination.

“Your highness, are we almost there yet?” you asked, fatigue hitting you once again.

“Almost,” he responds, continuing to look ahead. You huffed and held on tight to his hand so you didn’t get lost or left behind. After a few more minutes of walking, you felt the air get hotter and thinner. Bakugou smiles in front of you, looking excited.

“We’re here,” he announces. He pulls back these huge leaves, revealing a natural hot spring. The water was clear enough that you could see right through it, steam rising from the water, and rocks surrounding it, creating this gorgeous, peaceful atmosphere. Your eyes lit up and a loud gasp escaped your lips.

“How did you find this place?” you asked, getting closer to the hot spring.

“You like it? None of my men know about this place,” he says.

“It’s beautiful!” you continue to gasp, feeling the water with your hands. The heat of the water made you giddy and you couldn’t wait to hop in.

“You deserve it,” Bakugou comes up to, whispering in your ear. His statement made you blush, but this time, you didn’t hide it. He smirks behind you and you heard something falling to the floor. You dare turn around to see Bakugou shirtless, discarding his clothes one by one. As if your face wasn’t hot enough, steam was coming out of your ears with embarrassment.

“What are you doing?” you freaked out, turning around immediately.

“Getting in,” he said in the most obvious tone of voice.

“Together?”

“You’ll be on one side and I’ll be on the other,” he points out a huge rock, separating the hot spring into two pools. That seems a little better, but the idea of soaking in a hot spring together with the prince was nerve wracking.

“Princess, you can enter first, if that makes you feel better,” he suggested. When you turn to look at him, he already had his back turn out of respect for you.

So you undress and enter the heated water, noticing that all your muscles relaxed and the aches started going away as soon as you hit the water. You lean the back of your head on the rock and allow yourself to fully relax and destress. You could hear water splashing from the other side of the rock, indicating that Bakugou had also entered the water. Humming in satisfaction. You grew deeper and deeper in the hot spring until your nose was sitting on top of the water.

“Princess, I realize that I don’t know your name,” Bakugou spoke. Your name? You stayed silent. Was it wise to use your own name or should you continue to play as the princess?

“(y/n).” you decided.

“(y/n),” Bakugou repeated, elongating your name as if he stopped saying it, it’d disappear from him forever. The way your name left his lips felt like butter to him. He couldn’t help himself from repeated your name over and over again in his mind. You giggled and looked over the rock, arms crossed and head resting over them.

“Your highness, allow me to scrub your back,” you offered. Bakugou waved his hand while shaking his head.

“Nonsense. You shall not attend to me. We’re here to relax,” he had to remind you. But you insisted.

“But I want to, Prince Bakugou,” you pouted, jutting out your bottom lip.

“The high and mighty princess wants to wash the blood Prince’s back?” he questions playfully. He glances back to see you resting on top of the rock, giving him your big doe eyes.

“If you insist,” he gave up. He turns his back again, making sure to give you the privacy you needed to be able to come over to his side. You make your way over to him, covering your breasts in case. When you got settled behind him, you started washing his back.

You expected Bakugou to have scars from his many battles he’s had, but you didn’t expect his back to be covered in decolored and deformed wounds. Unknowingly, your hands went up to caress each scar.

“Does that frighten you?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you tell him honestly. “I think it makes you very brave.”

A comfortable silence fell upon you. Only the sound of water running and insects in the background could be heard. That was until you felt poke your butt. The hairs on your body hiked and you screamed as loud as you could, rising from the water in panic.

“Princess!” Bakugou instinctively put protection mode on, shooting up from his place to see what the danger was. You immediately clung to him, Bakugou wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. What Bakugou saw wasn’t an enemy but rather, a wild Japanese macaque monkey poking his head out of the water.

“Shoo!” Bakugou scared the monkey out of the water and back into the forest. Bakugou grunted and relaxed his shoulders. “Damn monkeys. I thought they only came out during the winter season. Are you okay, prin…cess,” he looked down at you only for you to look up at him with your exposed chest fully pressed against his chest. Now this could easily be the most embarrassing moment of your entire life. Your face heated up with embarrassment and you let out another scream, using all your force to slap him across the face. Bakugou wasn’t expecting such a reaction and it caught him off guard. You put for much force into the slap that Bakugou flew back and fell into the water. You ran out of the spring, covering up as fast as you could.

Bakugou had never been so flustered in his life. He was a blushing mess and now the image of your naked breasts on him could not escape his mind. He needed time to calm himself down and a certain friend from getting too excited.

When you both had returned back to the rest of the crew, everybody had been knocked out cold from the alcohol. Thank goodness, because they couldn’t see how awkward you two were at the moment. That night, you slept in the tent again while Bakugou camped outside.

But you couldn’t sleep. How could that situation happen to you, out of all people? You weren’t sure how much he saw of your naked body. Maybe he didn’t see anything at all. But you saw the expression on his face, he definitely saw something. You covered your chest and closed your eyes. To think that a man saw your body and it wasn’t even your wedding night.

You felt the wind enter your tent, the chill making you shiver. If it was cold inside the tent, it must be extra cold outside. Bakugou was sleeping outside. You bit your lip in confliction. You wanted him to be warm but that means you had to confront him. Ah, fuck it. You opened your tent and saw Bakugou resting on the grass with his cape wrapped around him. And it wasn’t doing a very good job because you could see him shivering. He couldn’t hide it no matter how hard he tried.

“Would you like to come inside?” you invite him in.

“It’s for you, princess,” he reminded you.

“I understand. But it’s too cold to be sleeping out here. Please. I insist,” you urged. He opens one eye and sighs.

“As you wish, princess,” Bakugou gave in. You scooted over to make room for the large man to sleep next to you. Bakugou made himself comfy but he was a tad too tall for the tent that he had to have his legs hanging out. The opening of the tent revealed the big, bright moon overhead.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” you apologized. Bakugou just lets out a breath.

“It’s whatever. I didn’t see anything, by the way,” he reassures you. Embarrassed again, you unconsciously covered your chest.

“You sure?”

“Erased from my mind,” he says as he closes his eyes and moves his hands around his head, as if he was erasing his memory. You laugh at his antics, more comfortable with the mood that was created. Bakugou laughs with you and turns to you, meeting eyes. This is the nth time that his heart leapt when you stare at him with those innocent, childlike eyes. He clears his throat and all of a sudden, his ears got red.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” Bakugou professed. You blinked in confusion. You weren’t sure why he said that. Glancing up at the moon, you guess you could say that it was beautiful. It was a full moon, and shone brightly above your heads. You weren’t versed in the poetics so you couldn’t comprehend the message the Blood Prince was trying to get at you.

“The moon is especially beautiful tonight. But isn’t the moon beautiful every night?” you responded.

Bakugou looks are you in mortification. Fuck, did he just get rejected? His ears got hot and he covered his mouth with his hands.

“Yeah… yeah it is,” he agreed, embarrassed. He took a deep breath in and back out again to calm his beating heart. You look over at him to see him a little distressed. You softly smiled, another side you got to see of him. It was cute. You could feel your heartbeat starting to pick its pace up and that’s when you realized. Gathering up all the courage you could muster, you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek you slapped.

“Good night,” you quickly say, then turned over to face away from him. Bakugou stops everything in his tracks and is frozen. He couldn’t help but smile and fall asleep next to you.

The moment you made the decision to kiss him was when you knew that you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to become his queen and rule his kingdom together. You were going to forget your past life. You were going to forget this mission you were on. You were the princess now. That was his truth and you weren’t going to change it.

A/N: For those who don't know, the phrase "the moon is beautiful, isn't it" or 月が綺麗ですね is a more poetic way of saying "I love you" in olden Japanese. And then the response to that would be "I can die happy" or 死んでもいいわ. Just for reference.

As I said before, I absolutely love this chapter and I really really REALLY want to know your reactions and thoughts!

Spoiler: drama starts in the next chapter :)

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know in the comments or DM me! and if you'd like to be tagged when my 18+ oneshot comes out, let me know too! I love you all!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma @bakugousmrs @random-fandom-girl-24 @monetfatalia @triviajeongin @readingslumpfanfic @softredrobin @briefhoundpartynickel @bnhahegao

[cowboisadness]

Found You {Arthur Morgan x F!reader}

Summery: She was there for Arthur through everything, being more than good friends but less than partners. They support eachother through the good and bad times, it’s not love tho, no, it’s not love at all.

Rating: M. Basically porn with plot. More plot than i planned i really got carried away with this. SMUT IS HERE! 18+ ONLY!!

—–

Chapter 4 - Together

The next few days were nothing short of torture. Arthur never spoke another word to me, huffing whenever I would say something to him or just walking away from me completely. Everyone else in camp soon noticed something serious had happened between us. Their comforting words and questions on what happened went unanswered and dismissed. I hoped time would help, that I would get a chance to explain myself and apologise for my foolishness and downright stupidity. But as the days passed, the frayed ends of the rope had no chance of being reconnected, no matter how hard I tried and how hard I cried. So I flung myself into as many jobs as I could get. As a distraction.

Robbing homesteads. Stagecoaches that turned into shootouts more often than not. Gambling with fellers that were too drunk to notice me stealing their wears from right under their noses and gone before they realised anything was amiss. Fighting in hidden alleyways with meagre men that thought they could take on a woman with nothing to lose. Just to feel something, another kind of pain that would lessen with time.

It wasn’t until I was sat at the edge of the camp, cleaning my revolver while looking out over the overlook, stars raining bright above. Bottle of whiskey by my side that Hosea came over and sat beside me. Silent at first. Taking in the view.

“You going to explain whats going on?”

“Nothings going on, Hosea.” I shrugged, running the oiled cloth over the same spot mindlessly. “Arthur won’t tell me. I though out of the two of you, you would.” he kept his eyes ahead, not bothering to look at me. I sighed, my shoulders dropping in defeat. I might as well tell him, not like he would be able to change my mind.

“I’m an idiot. I spoke to Mary. Told her to leave Arthur alone and to stop contacting him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know anymore...Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You love him.” I could see his grin out of the corner of my eye, albeit a sad on.

“Not you too, Hosea.”

“You two were very close. Closer than you think I realise. I’m not a dumb old man you know”

I didnt reply to that. No point to, my mind was made up now. Instead, I holstered my gun and stood, picking up the bottle as I did. Turning to Hosea to finally look at him.

“I’m leaving, Hosea. Only for a few weeks or a few months. I don’t know.”

“You really think leaving will help?” “Maybe. It might help him if I’m not here. I’ll send money and write to you and Dutch. I’ve already packed.” After a few more words and questions on my plans when I’m out there on my own, we hugged and I said my goodbyes to him, Dutch and a few others. Promising the girls I will see them again, even though I was doubtful. I willed no tears to spill when I gathered my things, leaving my tent bare and hollow. Mounting my horse I left camp without looking back, letting the wind guide me in whatever direction it wanted me to go.

---

Roughly 4 months had passed since leaving. Currently holed up in a now-abandoned cabin in the depths of Grizzlies East by O’Creagh’s run, hiding from the law after robbing the fence in Van Horne. Id wrote letters and sent money to nearby stations as promised. Keeping updated with the gangs coming and goings. The last time I heard from those who would write back, mainly Hosea and Mary-Beth, was when they were held up in a place called Shady Belle. I haven’t heard anything from them since. That was a month ago. I had thought of going there, finding them. But I couldn’t bare having to leave again after realising they had been getting on fine and had left me to my own devices. Coming to the conclusion that I was not returning and that I had abandoned them all. Which was far from the truth. I still cared, which I’m sure was evident from whatever leftover money I had been sending to them. Only, it wasn’t getting picked up from the stations anymore, along with my many letters. I was travelling back to the cabin after an evening hunting for supper and hopeful breakfast. The blanket of trees now behind me, opening up the wondrous starry night, pulling my jacket closed as the cold breeze this time of year began to sting any uncovered skin. I looked around before dismounting, taking my kill of two rabbits stowed on the side of my ever faithful horse and made my way inside. Looking around once more to make sure I hadn’t been followed. Just to be safe. As I began to skin and gut the meat, the warm glow from the lantern lighting my every movement in the otherwise dark cabin, I heard motion outside. Bears and wolves were not uncommon around these parts. I had to shoot my way out of a wolf pack not a week ago, coming away with nothing but a bruise on my hip from being bucked off the horse in her desperate attempt to flee. Nevertheless, I placed down the knife and picked up my rifle propped up against the door. Looking out the window to the right of the door. Seeing nothing and hearing nothing else. I went to the door, preparing my rifle then placing my ear to the door. It was silence for a few moments, then movement again, making its way up the steps. It didn’t sound like an animal. With a hand on the handle and rifle ready to be used, I swung the door open. The rifle now aimed at the unwelcomed guest.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust in the darkness, but it didnt take long to recognise who it was.

“Arthur?” It was barely a whisper. A question of disbelief. I blinked a few times, surely my eyes were playing tricks on me.

After a few breaths, he finally spoke “I’ve found you.” We just stood there, I released a breath I didnt even know I was holding. How did he find me? Why would he? Months of keeping myself away from people the best I could and staying hidden for long periods of time I was beginning to feel content with being a lone wolf. Not thinking that lone wolves are weakened beings after too long. Often driven out when deemed useless or a weakness to the pack, or leaving to find their own family. Not alone forever, wolves would struggle and go insane.

But he, of all people, found me. The only question now is why. And that was the only thing I could say as I lowered the gun.

“Why?”

He told me everything that happened. The downfall, the betrayal, the heartbreak. Those that we lost. Everyone gone in one way or another. Sean, Kieran, Lenny, Hosea, Molly, Miss Grimshaw. Dead. Saint Denis bank, Guarma, Micah working with the Pinkertons. In the end, Micah had turned Dutch against almost everyone, whispering little worms into his ear until they grew and grew to leave no room for anything else.

Dutch turning his back on Him and John. Leaving John to bleed out and leaving Arthur on that mountain. Where he thought would be his final resting place. But once the sun was up, high in the sky, he found the energy to live. To heal. To find me.

And that’s what he did the last few weeks until he heard whispers of someone fitting my description that caused a bit of hell in Van Horn. He knew he was close.

“But...why did you want to find me?” I asked. Both of us sat around the small table below the window, two empty whiskey glasses before us.

He took in a deep breath, his perfect blue eyes meeting my bloodshot and watery ones. “I wanted to the moment I was told you left,” He leaned over, taking my hands in his.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think these last few months. Especially in the last few weeks. What you did before you left, I understand now why.”

“But I hurt you.” letting a sob escape, my body starting to tremble and I’m sure he could feel it in my hands.

“It did hurt. But losing you hurt even more,” He said, nothing more than a whisper, his eyes never leaving mine and his hold on my hands not faltering as he continued. “I remember what you said to me that night years ago. ‘Bout not knowing how much I mean to you. Well - I - I do. Because I feel the same. Always have. it just took me a while to realise it I guess.”

I couldn’t stop the tears. The damn had busted open. Within seconds he was on me, his arms enveloping me, my hands coming to purchase on his shirt. Neither of us wanted to let go, out of fear the other would disappear into the air like dust in the morning rays. We held each other for what felt like an eternity, my tears slowing and the shaking subsiding. I lifted my head from where it was perched on his chest to look at him, our eyes locked once more. No words were spoken but I could see it in the depths of those pools, the forgiveness and longing. And I was sure my eyes mirrored the same. His hand came up to cradle my face and I instinctively leaned into him, my breathing hitching despite the calmness that washed over me. Then I looked into his eyes again, only to be met with a look I had not seen in many years. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could he surged forward, his lips on mine. It was delicate, more fragile than any other kiss we had shared. It wasn’t long until that fragility turned into desperation, my hands at the nape of his neck, his on my waist. My mind was running a million miles a minute, all thoughts of him and this moment. Feeling like we were young lovers again. His hands roamed my sides as I gripped his hair, keeping each other glued to one another. My body began to burn up, feelings I had repressed for months pushing their way to the surface, refusing to be drowned. We broke apart and he pulled me to stand, his lips now on my neck, trailing wet kisses from below my ear to the hollow of my neck, causing me to moan. He looked at me then, desperation and pleading etched upon his face before I kissed him again. Kissing the scar on his chin that was easily visible within the stubble, his jaw, down to his neck and then his chest. Pushing off his jacket and suspenders with it. My fingers returned to the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons slowly as he pushed me back into the direction of the bed. My legs soon coming into contact with the edge. His hands now making a start on my blouse, pulling it from the confines of my pants and lifting it over my head. My hands roaming his chest and snaking down to his abdomen, stroking the hair there, causing him to tense at my touch. He always was a fine man, built from hard work that I couldn't help but adore. His arms wrapping around to my back to undo the corsets lacing, completely surrounding me and all I could smell was him. Horse, rain, sweat and something that was just so undoubtedly him. Undoing his gun belt was muscle memory, hitting the floor with a thud, my corset following, now both bare from the waist up. We couldn’t wait any longer, our lips on each other once again as we worked on unbuttoning our pants. He leaned me down to lay on the bed, my legs hanging over the sides as he wasted no time to pull off the rest of my clothing. Laying there propped up on my elbows I watched as he raked his eyes over every curve, scar and freckle on my body. Kneeling between my legs he drew kisses from my knee up my thigh, getting oh so close to where I wanted him to be. He looked up at me once more, giving a shuddering breath before his mouth landed between my legs, soft but purposeful strokes easily pulling moans from me. He didn’t let up, devouring me like a man starved as he paid close attention to my little bundle of nerves. My body shaking again but for a whole different reason. It had been too long and I knew I wasn’t going to last if he kept going for a minute longer. My hands fisting the bedsheets I tried to speak but it was useless, squirming from the sensations. Lifting my legs to rest on his shoulders feeling him moan against me, the vibration causing bolts of electricity to fire through my whole body and land at my core. I could feel my orgasm rapidly approaching and my hand flew down to card through his hair, holding him there. My body convulsed as I tipped off the edge, my head rolling back as the blinding pleasure washed over me, moaning his name into the air. Arthur was above kissing me within seconds, tasting myself on his tongue and lips. Catching my breath he pushed me further up the bed until my head hit the plush pillows. Removing his pants and then situating himself between my legs. I could feel him pressed up against my thigh, hot and swollen and begging for attention. And oh how my body craved to give him what he needed. His eyes met mine, hooded and filled with lust. Silently asking for permission. I nodded, placing a kiss on his forehead and placing my hands on his shoulders. Electrifying jolts surged through my core as he strokes himself along my slit tenderly. His skin burning to my touch and looking downright drunk. Completely intoxicated. He sinks into me slowly. My body soon getting accustomed to the memory of him as he bottoms out, his hips meeting my thighs. My breath hitches as he bites back a moan. Both of us taking a moment just to bask in the feeling of one another like this again. It all felt the same but so different. He kissed the scar on my collar bone that he only got to see before when it was fresh. We had been through so much over the years we would need to learn about each other again. But one thing remained the same; my body yeard for him. He pulled out before setting a languid pace, lifting one of my legs to wrap around his waist, allowing him to go deeper, his pace quickening and lifting my hips to meet him, Chasing our pleasure. One hand in my hair, tangled up with my locks as his other hand firmly grasped my hip. The look on his face was evidence that he was holding back, needing to completely lose himself in me. And I felt the same. “Arthur...Please.” I purred, not needing to say anymore. His pace quickened with a grunt, one that was a borderline growl. My moans and the sounds of skin on skin filling the air and our ears as he kept hitting that sweet spot. My nails forming crescents on his shoulders. Pulling him down to crush my lips against his, our teeth clicking and tongues dancing together. Pulling back suddenly with swollen lips as the pressure began to build, my whole body trembling more and more as I got higher and higher. Moaning out his name as his rhythm began to falter. Nuzzling into my neck and mumbling ‘oh, fuck,’ in that gravelly but wanton voice. His hand on my hip made its way between my legs, rubbing in quick circles. I couldn’t hold back. That coil within me growing tighter and tighter before snapping. My back arching as the shockwaves rocked through me. Slowing his pace slightly to ride me through it before picking up his pace again, chasing his pleasure with a few more pumps of his hips and he stilled. His hand like a vice on my thigh as he spent himself inside me with a drawn-out moan. It took us a few moments to get our breath back. Pulling himself from me causing me to whimper from the empty feeling and sensitivity. He moved to lay beside me and pulled me to lay with my head on his shoulder. Neither of us willing to clean ourselves up just yet. My skin now acknowledging the cold air around us. The thin sheen of sweat cooling me. Nothing was said for a while as he held me close until he broke the silence to place a kiss to the top of my head then lifting my chin for my face to meet his. “I love you,” he said. My eyes getting blurry from the confession I never thought I would hear. But looking at him I knew it was true. His eyes shone with adoration. I smiled weakly before kissing him once. Looking back into his eyes and with no hesitation, I said out loud what id only heard myself mutter in my dreams. “I love you too."

[victoria-daydreams]

The Long Way Home

Chapter Four: Recruiting for a Jailbreak

AN: Here it is folks! You finally get a taste of what Claudia been up to over the years.

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.8k

Taglist: @iloveeverything-09, @eiferundruhe​, @greatscott--wrongdecade​

Chapter Five: A Summer Place

She was laying on their shared bed with nothing on but one of Charles' shirt, her legs tucked slightly to let the natural curves of them lead up to her thighs and to more scenic places, reading a book. Charles was reading a novel of his own, leaning against the headboard of the bed, but he found it hard to concentrate on the text in front of him when there was a beautiful woman laying opposite of him.

Claudia caught Charles' eyes on her, and broke out into a grin that almost made him reach across the bed and drag her mouth to his, kissing away that smile and make it his own forever.

"Why are you staring at me like that Charles?" Claudia asked, a soft grin pulling at her lips.

"Because you're breathtaking love," he breathed, giving a lopsided smile.

Claudia rolled her eyes, feeling her face flush with heat, "I'm only in one your button ups Charles," she replied, slightly laughing.

"Hmm, and you wear it so well darling," Charles purred, running a finger up and down her ankle.

Snapping her book shut, not caring where she left off, Claudia righted herself and crawled over to Charles where he gathered her in his arms and held her to his body. She burrowed herself into Charles and he nuzzled his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply.

"Sometimes I think to myself of how lucky I am to have met you," Charles murmured, against Claudia's ear. "To be with you," he added, using the back of his finger to caress her cheek.

Claudia lifted her head slightly from his shoulder, "I love you Charles," she breathed, bumping her nose with his.

"And I love you," Charles smiled, his words ghosting over her lips.

Their noses bumping into each other until Charles lowered Claudia back onto the bed, capturing her lips in a fiery kiss.

~~~x~~~

"Hank, I still can't believe you kept Claudia's address a secret for all these years!" Charles fumed, glaring at Hank and then out the backseat window.

"Do you honestly think she would even want to see you after everything you said to her?" Hank asked back, letting out a scoff.

The trees passed by as they drove down a side road in Richmond, Virginia. The car slowly came to a stop as they reached a local park. As all the men piled out of the rental car, they began to observe the serene environment. The trees bent softly with the wind, the wind carrying the laughter of children running around the playground, being princesses and mighty warriors in their own worlds. Erik gazed across the street, seeing only children and their parents, and became confused.

Charles' brows also furrowed, "Are you sure this is the right neighborhood?" he questioned, doing a slow 360 turn as his eyes swept their surroundings. The neighborhood had elegant, Victorian-style homes lined on each side of the street in various colors, manicured lawns and ample yard space. "This seems too...suburban for someone like Claudia," Charles stated.

"Claudia was always one for the city," Erik recalled, staring at a sign informing residents that the neighborhood watch worked round the clock.

"This is the type of place where you would settle down and start a family..." Charles’ voice faded, at his own assessment.

Hank unfolded a piece of wrinkled, almost yellowing paper, "She gave me this address in 1967, I called the number she wrote down, but no one answered. There's no telling if she still lives there or not," he said, smoothing the paper out. "This way," Hank announced, walking down the sidewalk and everyone followed him.

Several times, they had to stop before they collided with humans half their size, smiling kindly as the children took off giggling.

"So you and Claudia split up then," Erik began, just loud enough for only Charles to hear as Peter, Hank, and Logan walked ahead.

"Obviously," Charles bit back, not wanting to talk about it.

Erik shook his head, "Never thought I'd see that happen, she thought the world of you," he started, but was interrupted by shrieks of laughter as they passed a yellow two story home, the sprinklers were on and three children under the age of eight, raced through the water in swimsuits. "Such a shame isn't it, you had a woman like Claudia and you let her go," Erik mentioned casually, letting out a tsk before quickening his pace to catch up with the group.

Erik's statement pierced Charles like a twisting knife through the heart. A frown lined his forehead as he let out a deep breath, he had no idea what he was going to say once he saw her.

"Here we are," Hank notified, stopping in front of a house. "1342 West Main Street," he read, looking down at the piece of paper and glancing up at the front door.

The house was beautiful, a three story updated cream colored Victorian mansion, leading to the garage to the road is a brick driveway. The front of the mansion had a tan painted wooden porch with five sturdy and wide steps. The porch cover had white shingles and a comfortable beige two person porch swing hanging from the ceiling. It was spacious enough for one or more people to stand on the wide front porch with ease to overlook the large front yard with tall oaks that displayed their rich, green foliage and beautiful shrubs carefully trimmed.

"Is your friend rich?" Peter asked, staring in awe at the house.

Erik slid his hands into his pockets, "If she wills it so." He quipped, hinting at her power.

"Sounds strangely ominous," Logan commented, glancing Erik then back at the house.

"There's a car in the driveway, so someone's home," Erik observed, before walking up the porch steps. "Come on, let's go, no need to prolong this any longer than we have to," he stated, climbing the stairs.

Everyone walked up the stairs without hesitation, but Charles remained at the bottom of the porch still looking up at the mansion. His stomach was twisting itself into knots, he couldn't shake the feeling of restless nervousness that's been building up within him since D.C. The thought of walking up the grand staircase leading to the door frightened him, what if she didn't want to see him?

Claudia was never one to forgive easy.

"Did I tell you why Claudia has to be involved?" Charles questioned, trying to find some excuse not to face his ex-fiancée.

"No, you didn't mention," Logan answered. "But you have to do this. You insisted, like I said," he reminded.

"Why? She dies, but so will I someday. We all will," Charles pointed out lamely.

"Her dying should be reason enough Charles," Erik stated, narrowing his eyes at him.

Charles threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "You're right, you're right," The telepath conceded, making his way up the steps giving himself a constant pep talk as he went.

Hank raised one of his thin fingers and pressed the doorbell, the ringing of the bell echoed through the house, but no one came to greet them. Hank waited another thirty seconds before he pressed the doorbell a second time, still there wasn't a sign of movement from within the home.

"Maybe she's not home," Hank suggested, cupping his hands to peer through the front door window, but the glass was frosted.

"Or she's ignoring us," Charles reckoned.

"I'm one to never turn down the opportunity to use my powers." Peter offered, getting ready to take off until Erik clasped his hand on his shoulder.

"Not if you value your life," Erik cautioned, letting him go. "Claudia, is the last person to be trifled with," he added.

Logan raised his eyebrow at this, "Who was this woman?" he thought.

Suddenly, Logan's ear perked up at the sound of music playing faintly.

"Do any of you hear that?" Logan asked, craning his neck as he moved away from the front door.

"Hear what?" Charles asked.

"There's music being played," Logan responded, walking down the porch steps. "It's coming from the backyard," he continued, making his way to the gate.

They followed behind the man and as they got closer to the gate the sound of orchestral music could be heard wafting from the backyard. Logan unlatched the back gate, walking across the plush green lawn now being able to fully hear the crooning of Andy Williams singing A Summer Place.

There's a summer place Where it may rain or storm

Moving further into the backyard Logan was stunned by its opulence. There was a stone patio attached to the home designed with veranda arches, an in ground pool was centered in the middle of grand, park-like backyard. The pool was surrounded by tan stone tiles which extended from the deck against the house. To the left side of the deck was a grill and a round white table with a white umbrella and a couple of garden chairs and on the right had an in-ground Jacuzzi. If anyone stood on the deck and looked up they would notice a balcony.

For within that summer place Your arms reach out to me

Logan's gaze halted as he spotted a figure of a woman in a pool chair underneath an umbrella, lounging with one leg outstretched and the other pulled in immersed in her reading. The woman was not far off from the backyard gate, but she didn't move, seemingly unaware that there were guests with her. The record player was playing right next to her, the music must have masked the noise of the gate opening as she kept absently swaying her foot back and forth to the song.

There are no gloomy skies When seen through the eyes

"Well, if that's her, she's certainly living lavishly," Erik observed, simply amazed at the wealth of the homeowner.

Charles' eyes swept around the backyard in shock. He was speechless as a matter of fact. If the woman under the umbrella was Claudia, Charles had to wonder who was the rich man that swept her off her feet and married her. As the men approached the woman they suddenly felt their legs lock up, except for Hank's. Logan, Erik, Charles, and Peter all looked down to see violet wisps surrounding their lower limbs.

"What the hell?" Logan muttered, as Erik and Charles both glanced at each other.

"Now Hank," a familiar female voice called out over the music. "When I invited you to stop by my house whenever you please, that invitation wasn't extended to a stranger, a wanted criminal, a drug abuser, and a..." the woman paused, and loudly sniffed the air twice. "A dog," she finished, never turning to face them.

"I wouldn't have brought them along if this wasn't important," Hank explained, taking a step closer.

"We need your help Claudia,"

Chapter Six: Hell Hath No Fury

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 10

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: Nine

A/N: I’ve added a tag list for those who wish to stay updated with this story! Just message me if you wish to be added <3

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Ten: Human not Humane

Huckleberry Hall was thriving with life. Lucien had apparated at the bottom of the pathway leading up to the external arches and courtyard placed before the hall – and there were people everywhere.

Elain saw all walks of life, from noblemen to peasants crowded on the lawns and paths. It was like looking directly into a memory. In another life, Elain would walk among these people with her sisters and parents. Nesta would trot directly behind their mother as she sneered down her nose at the farmers and tanners, Feyre would drift a little further behind, looking up at the clouds in the sky. Their father would walk at the back holding little Elain’s hand, pointing out the flowers and the trees and showing her how to make a trumpet from a leaf.

That was another life and what Elain had always assumed was a happier one.

Mother knows what she thought now.

Lucien and Elain were hidden from sight down the pathway, and it looked as though they were the last to arrive. Looking around, Elain saw stableboys managing a small army of horses, farmers sitting next to wagons full of seeds, grain and fruit, there were even Lords and Ladies, perched under umbrellas in fine chairs, tutting to themselves at the display.

It was so…human.

The rowdy chatter, the children playing hopscotch, the delicacy of these little lives and how they were interwoven with one another. Another way in it being so human was that Elain knew she didn’t fit.

Years ago the sight of all these people would have simply washed over Elain, now it threatened to drown her. Looking around all she could see were people, people and more people. People she didn’t know in a situation she couldn’t control. How long had it been since Elain had spoken to anyone outside the Inner Circle or the Band of Exiles? She hadn’t been taken to any of the meetings with other Courts or any trips abroad – her family hadn’t even told her. They’d just left her alone and hoped she’d be fine.

Breathing started to become a little difficult.

“Are you okay?” Lucien’s voice husked in her ear.

Elain just stared blankly up at him; she wasn’t sure. His own eyes were assessing her carefully.

“If you don’t want to do this just say the word and I’ll take us home.”

Home…

“I’m fine,” Elain said, though a little breathily, “It’s just…I haven’t been around a crowd in a long time.”

She flinched then as a carriage thundered through the woods on a path far to their left, the noise scaring the birds who began a loud chorus of squawking. All of the uproar felt as though it were washing over Elain, dragging her down, suffocating her.

“Hey, Elain, breathe,” Lucien’s hands came up to rest on her shoulders as he pulled himself in front of her, blocking her view of the Hall and all the people surrounding it. Now, her attention was on him.

“Breathe,” he commanded once more before he joined her in taking deep, long breaths. In, out. In, out.

Slowly, the roaring noise and itching anxiety began to fade away as she became encased in the sensation of Lucien. The smell of him surrounding her, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes concerned as they roved over her face.

She wondered if this is how he often felt – like his entire universe sometimes shifted so that she was at the centre.

Once Elain’s breathing had returned to a steady pace for several moments, she felt something tugging from within. Without thinking, Elain brushed up against the bond and was surprised to feel a wave of emotions – Lucien’s emotions – washing over her. She was even more surprised at what those emotions were.

“You’re angry,” Elain whispered after a moment. Lucien shook his head but, he was. His eyes were burning, his jaw set, his brows furrowed – he looked as though he were furiously trying to stop himself from talking. “You are,” Elain prodded because, well, it was a good distraction.

Lucien sighed before looking warily down at her, almost as though he were contemplating telling her whatever it was that had set him off.

“I told Feyre a long time ago that she should’ve been taking you out to see the ocean or sunlight. Instead she…” Lucien trailed off. Elain wished he didn’t, she wished he just said what he so clearly itched to get off his chest.

“I like the indoors,” Elain shrugged.

“Do you?” Lucien cocked his head, “I thought you used to spend all your time in gardens and your greatest wish was to see the continent.”

Elain paused. How did he know about the continent…

Her father. When Lucien had come for Vassa he’d met Elain’s father and he must’ve tried to inconspicuously pick up as much information about her as he could. Maybe once Elain would’ve thought the notion strange but, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling shyly.

“Okay…” Elain tilted her head, “But I needed the indoors.”

“You needed both,” Lucien said as his eyes softened, “Fresh air, new places, new people – they remind us that the world is bigger than the rooms we lock ourselves in.”

The hands on her shoulders began to rub soothingly along her upper arms, and once more Elain’s entire focus zoned in on that point of contact.

“Did you used to lock yourself away?” Lucien grinned.

“Elain, I’m a 400-year-old fae, I’ve spent my fair share moping indoors. Tamlin was the one who eventually had enough, he threw me out into the woods of Spring one day and said if I couldn’t catch anything, I wasn’t eating dinner.”

“That sounds mean,” Elain half-laughed.

“Maybe,” Lucien shrugged, “But it got me out. He was a bastard though, I spent all day in a river collecting enough bass to feed a small army only to come back to the Manor and find an entire spread waiting for me: potatoes, honeyed-ham, even Tipiati – it’s a delicacy from Dawn. It’s this little bird and you cut it open and eat the heart raw-”

“Oh, ugh!” Elain giggled as she scrunched her nose.

“What’s wrong petal? Raw bird heart not sounding good? Wait until I tell you what they do with the eyes-”

“Okay, okay! Feeling better! Ready to seize the day just please, stop talking about those poor birds!” Elain laughed, feeling for the first time in forever the weight on her shoulders disappear.

“I’m going to get you to try it one day,” Lucien grinned, looking rather smug with himself at having made her laugh.

“Oh, in your dreams,” Elain looped her arm through his as they made their way up the path and into the view of the humans.

“Just you wait, if we’re ever in Summer I’m making you try Calamari.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Elain smiled, and for a moment, she forgot where she was.

Because her arm was in Lucien’s and he was smiling down at her as though she were a forest nymph bedecked in moon-flowers and in this moment, everything felt alright.

It was only when they were halfway down the path to the Hall, that Elain began to remember where she was, and she felt the eyes of the humans – humans she once knew – boring into her. She simply kept her own stare ahead at the open doors of the Hall in which she could see the fiery glint of Vassa’s hair and golden dress.

But her fae hearing picked up on everything. She heard the whisperings of the peasants, both enchanted and disgusted by her beauty, she heard the Ladies muttering to one another about her dress and how disgustingly uncivilised it was.

She heard the Lords grinning to one another about how they knew Elain when she was a little girl. About how they had first dibs…

If she wasn’t mistaken Lucien had gone somewhat rigid next to her and he was once more pulling himself to his full height, looming over everyone in the courtyard. One glance up at him told her that he was wearing his fiercest scowl, his entire being practically thrumming with magic that she knew was hot under the surface of his skin.

Then, Lucien was leaning low, his lips coming close to her ear as he whispered three little words. And then, his voice was the only one that mattered.

“I’ve got you.”

***

Time started to move quickly after their laboured walk into the Hall. Once they were in and grouped with Vassa and Jurian, Elain found herself being introduced to a plethora of Noblemen and Ladies. They shook her hand with introductions and light discussions of who they were and the role they played in the rebuilding of the mortal world. Elain was glad she had spent so much time looking over the documents and contracts as she found herself maintaining elaborate, detailed questions with everyone she came into contact with – and as each successful conversation passed, so did her anxiety, and she truly began to believe she could do this.

She often found herself using the same techniques her mother had taught her when attending balls. Except now, instead of conversations about dowries and marital prospects, she was speaking of trade routes and contractual obligations.

On more than one occasion she came into contact with someone whom she once knew. Some people, such as older, less wealthy men were kind and joyful, telling Elain how they were glad to see she was at least healthy and alive following the Battle against Hybern. With others, Elain could read the quite plain apprehension and slight disgust in the eyes of those she’d once known – particularly of father’s whose sons she’d once been a contender for marrying.

The Hall was busy with chatter as this was also the first meeting in which Queen Vassa was in attendance, and with the two new, unusual arrivals, there were many mortal civilities that needed to pass before everyone was to take their seats in the main hall at the southern end of the building.

Lucien never left her side, but not in a way that felt claustrophobic or hovering, but merely in a way that told her that he had her back. Whenever she tuned into his conversations she found that most mortals responded somewhat well to Lucien. At least, as well as they could given the circumstances. Many mortal Lords were interested in Lucien’s weaponry and experience in battle, there appeared to be an endless amount of questions regarding his sword of choice.

There was only one time in which Elain overheard her name in his discussions.

“Are you and the Lady Elain married then?” Lord McAdams, an old man who owned the human libraries inquired over a glass of port.

“We’re acquaintances, and while she is here she is under my protection,” Lucien replied smoothly. He was the image of relaxation, an easy smile that lit up the room playing on his features.

“Ah, I see,” McAdams winked at Lucien, who merely tilted his head in response.

“Pardon?”

“I won’t tell anyone, of course, you see, it is highly unusual for an unmarried woman to…well to…though it does happen.” McAdams was old enough that he wheezed as he talked.

“I’m quite lost Lord McAdams, though I’m sure you mean well.”

“Of course, of course, my boy. Of course, I mean well,” McAdams chortled, “Besides, I can’t blame you can I? You know I knew Elain when she was a little girl, her father used to take all three of them round to my house so they could have their pick from my libraries. She was the prettiest of them all, even then, and it’s always interesting to see how they…turn out.”

Elain was nodding along as a young Lord who owned the rice fields out West continued to chat extensively about himself. Though at that moment, she felt a pair of eyes searing into her back, particularly her behind. At that moment she didn’t need to reach for the bond to feel the protective fury that was radiating from her mate.

It was strange, but for some reason, she liked it. Some guilty, deep down part of her shuddered in agreement at the idea of Lucien being protective over her in the face of these men. It was almost a nice idea, belonging to him…

“Elain!” A saccharine voice pulled Elain from her internal tribulations and Lucien and McAdams faded away as a silver blur appeared in front of her. “Oh Elain it’s so good to see you again, you look…well!”

Delilah Darlington exploded into the conversation, nudging into the side of the young Lord who grumbled in response. She was bundled in a rather ridiculous silver gown which was bedecked in frills of lace that hung off the fabric like cobwebs. Delilah was beautiful, though, and a sweet kind girl.

She did not deserve the cruelty of someone such as Graysen.

“Delilah, I’m so glad you’re well! Congratulations on your engagement,” Elain said with as much earnest kindness she could muster as she pulled Delilah into a brief embrace.

They’d been friends, once, along with a small gaggle of girls. Nesta couldn’t stand any of them, she saw them as competition at balls and discouraged Elain from forming any kind of relationship with them. Elain had anyways, of course. It was something to look forward to at those balls, something to distract her from the wandering hands and unwanted touches.

“Oh, well, yes I-I uh, I didn’t know you were coming back.” Delilah looked strangely guilty for a moment, and Elain felt something in her chest squeeze. Graysen wasn’t deserving of this girl, and he wasn’t worth coming between them.

“Well I’m only here until some political goals are accomplished, then I’ll probably be heading back over the border.”

“How exciting, you always wanted to travel.”

“Yes,” Elain grinned shyly, touched that Delilah remembered such a trivial detail. Looking around Elain realised that the young Lord had disappeared, and she felt herself relaxing from the forced courtly act she’d been playing.

“It’s wonderful Delilah it really is. Being turned fae has been difficult, more than difficult it’s been…well, it’s been hard, but it’s almost worth it for the beauty of Prythian.”

Delilah, unlike the other mortals who changed the conversation once anything beyond the wall was mentioned, grinned widely and rubbed her hands together.

“I read a book after you were taken over the wall, it was a forbidden scripture from McAdams library that I managed to steal when I was over there. It detailed all things about Prythian, is it true there are Seasonal Courts?”

“Oh yes,” Elain grinned, allowing her courtier’s exterior to crumble, “Lucien hails from the Autumn Court.”

Elain shifted so that she was now standing next to Delilah against the wall and pointed out to Lucien, though there was no need, he stood head and shoulders above everyone, currently nodding along to something a small gaggle of women were chatting about.

“Oh of course, I can see it now,” Delilah muttered with a smile, but Elain was fixated and the now growing group of women that were trying to gain her mate’s attention. Delilah, seeing Elain’s line of sight, smiled wider. “They do that every week. They’re all eligible brides, see there’s Isobel and Lottie…not that they would ever admit it, but I think some of them want him to propose.”

“Propose?” Elain couldn’t stop herself from spluttering, feeling a protective fiery anger move through her at the thought. The idea that these women had gathered week after week trying to sway Lucien into offering them his hand in marriage for two years, it made her feel feral.

Lucien was hers.

The thought was like a stone to the head and suddenly the protective rage was cleared, leaving behind her internal shock and confusion had having had such an audacious thought. But by the way Lucien was now grinning slyly at the women before him, his confidence having tripled within the minute, Elain was pretty certain she’d accidentally sent that thought down the bond.

“Is he really your mate?” Delilah asked, her eyes twinkling slightly. Elain stayed quiet for a moment, and then.

“Yes. He is. We’re bound together by fate and the Mother herself.”

“That sounds very beautiful,” Delilah said softly, but Elain could not take her eyes away from her Autumn Male. It was like the thought had just truly dawned on Elain, the reality of their situation.

Lucien was her mate. In that way, he was hers.

And she was his.

“It is…”

“The meeting shall begin in ten minutes, please, may you all take your seats!” A loud, brash voice called from the looming doors of the main hall and the crowd began to move in the direction, the babbling only increasing as wives got left behind and Lords could engage in the locker room talk before the politics – Elain didn’t miss the several glances thrown her way as the men’s rowdy chatty began to fill the building.

“I must go but, I’ll see you soon,” Delilah hopped out away from her, giving Elain a quick embrace and a kiss on the cheek before she was waving and disappearing into the crowd. The crowd where her fiancé no doubt was hidden.

She had not yet seen him.

Just as she was about to lose herself in the throng, Lucien was in front of her, pushing through the men as though they were no more than butterflies to swat at. Before she could say anything, he was holding out his arm with a slight bow.

“Lady.”

Unable to help herself, Elain grinned at her mate as she looped her arm through his and was rewarded with an equally bright grin back. Lucien led them through the crowd into the hall, people parting for them as though they were a plague to be avoided. Elain didn’t mind, especially if it meant no one would stand on her train.  

“They can’t take their eyes off you.” Lucien didn’t move as he spoke, he merely muttered the words under his breath and had he been talking to any mortal, they would’ve been lost on the wind. But Elain’s fae-hearing picked them up, and she felt a shiver run the length of her spine at the secret conversation in plain sight.

“Feeling territorial?” Elain surprised herself by husking back.

“It would seem I’m not the only one.” She didn’t need to look at him to know he was smirking coyly.

“I don’t like the way they talk about me,” Elain moved on before her cheeks could start burning, “The men who watched me grow up.”

“It’s repulsive.” All humour left her mate’s tone. “If it soothes your mind know that I won’t let them lay a finger on you.”

“I don’t know if touching is the problem so much as the looking.”

“That dress isn’t doing us favours I’m afraid.”

“Oh, do you wish for me to get rid of -”

“Don’t,” Lucien said too quickly, his arm going rigid from where it was interlinked with hers. Elain smirked. “It’s…it’s a fine dress.” Lucien tried to concede.

“I think so.”

“It reminds me of home.” Elain stole a glance at him then.

“Because of the fabric?”

“Well yes,” Lucien’s brows furrowed as his eyes met hers, “But…that dress was my mothers.” Elain felt her shock roll through her. His mother’s? But this was a gift from Mor – right?

“You didn’t know,” Lucien mused, now seemingly unable to take his eyes off of her. Elain shook her head. “Ah, of course, I gave it to Nuala the other day, she wouldn’t take it until I said it was from Mor.”

“I’ll…have to ask her about it. Why do you have your mother’s dress?”

“Eris delivered it months ago, apparently she’d heard of our bond and wished to gift it to you as a mating present.”

“Oh-”

“I don’t intend to – I’m not giving it to you for that reason I just, I explained to Nuala my thinking about how the fabric and style is perfect for setting intention.” Elain just drifted next to him, turning his words over in her head.

“Is this why you are always dressed so finely, because it is a political motive?” Lucien, to her surprise, grinned wickedly.

“Nothing is coincidental, Elain, from the clothes we wear to the way we talk.”

“Whose we?” Lucien shrugged.

“I would’ve said Autumn Court Males but, I believe it is only Eris whom I share that trait with. Ah, here we are.”

The hall was set up like a Courtroom, with certain families, estates, and job sectors, sectioned off into small groups. Elain and Lucien, being the representatives for The Fae were somewhat isolated from everyone else. They were near enough to Vassa and Jurian who were bickering quietly from where they were seated to their right. The room was still squabbling and rowdy with chatter, and there were only men besides Elain and Vassa. The other mortal queens were not even present.

Elain’s eyes unwittingly began to search for Graysen. For some reason, not having seen him yet was making her nervous, it felt as though the longer she waited, the worse it was going to be. She just didn’t want to have anything sprung upon her.

Perhaps with the bond having been in more use the past few days, it seemed that Lucien was somehow easily able to gleam that Elain’s attention had returned to her ex-fiancé. Elain knew because he’d gone rigid next to her.

“What?” Elain prodded, turning to him. With the hall still full of chatter, she wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing their conversation. She’d thought she and Lucien had been good on the Graysen topic following their conversation in the kitchen doorway. Lucien didn’t look at her, instead, he appeared to be assessing the Darlington’s as they made themselves comfortable. “Lucien,” Elain stressed.

“I um, I felt you the other night, when you found out Graysen was engaged,” he began slowly, still not meeting her eye. Elain tugged on his sleeve forcing him to look down at her, she raised her brows questioningly to show she didn’t understand. Lucien breathed deeply, his eyes closing momentarily before he looked deep ahead, avoiding her pleading look. “I could feel what you were feeling.”

The way Lucien looked ahead, his jaw set and his eyes unfeeling, it was as though that little sentence had explained everything. But she was just more confused.

He’d felt her? Her emotions? What had she been feeling? She’d found out that Graysen was engaged, and she felt…She had felt tired, relieved, pitiful even. It was like some door had finally jammed shut after it had been fluttering between open and closed. It was a final sever in their bond and as she had fallen asleep that night, she’d welcomed the end of her time with Graysen. Her dream that night was a reminder that her relief was earned.

How could any of that upset Lucien?

Then Elain realised that Lucien had felt it. That longing, and by the way Lucien was now glaring at his hands, curled into fists in his lap, she’d realised that he may have misunderstood what, exactly, she was longing for.

She didn’t want Graysen. She wanted what he had. Not in terms of Delilah but, she wanted his ignorance, his ability to simply move on and find a new wife. She wanted his strength to not change, to still be who he was, to still have the world the way he wanted it with him at the centre.

She longed for the bliss Graysen had found, simply because that bliss made her agony so much more tender.

Lucien had misread her. She almost sighed with relief. She could fix this; she could simply explain to him why, and the small waves of hurt currently rocking through her would disappear.

Lucien wasn’t Graysen, he wasn’t going to leave her side in an instant just because of a misunderstanding. But even as Elain repeated this to herself as the room quietened and the meeting began, some part of her refused to believe it – some part of her refused to trust.

***

The meeting was rather boring. After all her research and all her note-taking, the first two hours involved discussions Elain had no interest in. It was about internal disputes, farmers angry with one another over borders, fisherman demanding wage rises, etcetera, etcetera. Elain was forced to watch as the Lords and Noblemen sneered down at the lower class, working men and had to bite her tongue the entire time.

It seemed that Lucien shared her disgust, as he regularly whispered quips in her ear about how mortal and fae weren’t so different after all. That the High Fae and these Noblemen had more terrible things in common, such as their treatment of working families and Lesser Fae.

Elain had tried to watch with an assessing eye, categorising the figures she needed to remember for later discussions. But by the time the lunchtime break came about, she was practically falling asleep on Lucien’s shoulder. It was after lunch that the room seemed to clear slightly, the farmers and peasants going home to their families as the topic of the Fae and Queen Vassa was brought up.

Queen Vassa made her introduction to the room, her voice full and powerful as she stood, Jurian watching with an all-knowing smile at her side. There were some small talks about property and Vassa was able to confirm her signature on several contracts.

Lucien got involved in discussions several times, and Elain was more than happy to sit quietly and watch as he worked the room. He was perfect. The way he eased into conversations, the easy-going smiles, the unconfrontational comments on trade routes and Fae resources.

Elain was surprised to notice that several Noblemen had taken a shining to Lucien and seemed to actively pursue his voice in discussions. She could tell a lot of it was fake, the way Lucien grinned at men whom he’d whispered insults about in Elain’s ear but, his courtier’s mask was perfect.

Elain was beginning to think that she might make it through the meeting without having to stand and utter a single word, until Lucien interjected a conversation about wrapping up for the week.

“We must speak of the matter that is Koschei.”

This seemed to be the first thing Lucien had said which the Noblemen did not instantly grin and nod along to. Instead, Elain saw heavy sighs and the rolling of eyes. It would seem that these Lords did not mind discussing with the Fae so long as it was about mortal matters. But talk of Death-Gods and magical firebirds, seemed to rather put them off.

“We have spoken of it. Weeks ago.” Elain heard Lord Nolan’s tired voice swim into the room. He appeared humoured by Lucien’s statement while Lucien simply remained passive. Stoic. They were sitting far to their left, and Elain had already glimpsed Graysen perched next to his father, leaning back in his chair. It was almost like he was trying, and failing, to impersonate Lucien’s image of confident boredom.

“May I remind you, Lord Nolan, that fae resources are only open to you so long as you stick to your word.”

“My word-”

“-yes,” a shimmer of anger was seen in Lucien’s eye, but beyond that his courtier's mask was flawless. “Your word that you would assist both Queen Vassa and her fae acquaintances in disposing of the Death-Lord, whose residence is not far from this very hall.”

“The agreement was to help you reverse the so-called curse placed on the Queen, and as we can all see, Queen Vassa has joined us today and therefore one might consider that vow fulfilled.”

“I am here on bought time,” Vassa now stood, her voice dripping in authority and power as she asserted herself amongst the men, “I shall not explain the means, as the explanation shall no doubt be lost on a room of mortals, but what you see before you is merely a temporary solution to the problem.”

“It would do you well, Queen Vassa, to remember that you too are mortal,” Lord Darlington now husked, his eyes predatory, “Or at least you were…once.”

“Oh don’t worry, Darlington, she’s just as mortal as I am,” Jurian grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Darlington merely sneered in disgust.

“The point is Koschei is still at large-” Lucien tried again, the picture of relaxation from where he stood, looming over the room.

“And what do you expect us to do?” Elain felt her heart shudder as Graysen’s voice finally joined the others. It was only a matter of time.

Even though he was speaking to someone else - to Lucien - Elain felt her fight or flight instinct kick in. The last time she had heard that gravelly, low voice, had been when it had broken her heart.

“You fae clearly see us humans as inadequate, as proven by your Queen forgoing explaining her sudden appearance. No doubt caused by some dark magic, the same magic that threatens to infiltrate our lands and poison our people.” Graysen rose to his feet, his voice growing louder, and Elain noticed how much he had aged since she’d last seen him.

It had only been two years but the stress of rebuilding the mortal world without a wall had taken its toll: thinning hair, lines around his mouth, he’d also put on quite a bit of weight. He was no longer the young boy Elain had fallen in love with, a dreamer who wished to rid the world of evil beings. He was a man with a heart full of hate.

“Two things,” Lucien’s own voice didn’t waver as he turned to address Elain’s ex-fiancé, and she wondered how much they’d had to see of each other over the past two years. “One, Vassa is not my Queen. Two, it is somewhat hilarious to watch you whine like a pup over Queen Vassa not explaining to you her magic, when you are already so prejudiced to not comprehend the difference between the fae and Koschei. There is no magic seeking to infiltrate your lands apart from the work of the latter.”

“Koschei is fae-”

“-Koschei is a Death-God.” Lucien’s tone turned cold, and at that moment the sun dipped behind the clouds. “A survivor from the time of Old Gods. He is not fae, he is a threat to us as much as he is a threat to you.”

“The threat to humans are all fae and everything that comes with them.”

“The fae of Prythian have no interest in humans-”

“Oh please, one must only look to my ex-fiancé for proof of their machinations.”

The room went cold. The sun having now truly disappeared from sight, leaving behind a world of blue and grey shadows.

“Look at her, look at her unnatural beauty. Many of us knew Elain, the true Elain Archeron, the human one. She was beautiful but plain of the mind but set to live a normal, human life. Now look at her, she’s no better than a siren or a nymph, her beauty is of a freak nature and it’s only purpose is to lure you in, to cover the ugly truth underneath. Her and her two sisters were turned, stolen from their beds in the middle of the night and taken across the wall. I’m surprised to see you here Elain,” Graysen had been talking theatrically to the room, but that last sentence was personal, intimate. And when he caught Elain’s eye, she could only think one thing.

She hated him.

“Surprised but I suppose that’s my own fault, you always had a small fortune of ugly secrets you liked to keep hidden - and to think I almost fell into a marriage with you. You see, this is another reason the fae wish to infiltrate our lands, they wish to take our wives. Elain was stolen and turned only to be given to the male we see before us,” Graysen held his arm out to where Lucien was standing, still as stone at Elain’s side.

“This male was able to lay a claim on Elain the second she was turned. We’ve all heard of the mating bond.” A ripple of disgusted murmurs went around the room. “At that moment Elain, my soon to be wife, belonged to a fae male. Mother knows what atrocities occurred in the time between their mating and the moment Elain finally remembered her fiancé and came back home.”

Outrage and disgust were expressed around the room, and Graysen looked almost gleeful as he assessed the crowd.

“These two, this harlot and her owner-“

Elain shot out a hand and gripped the fabric of Lucien’s trousers if only to stop him from burning the boy to a crisp from where he stood.

“-have come here to mock us! They have come as a warning, to show us what will happen to our people - our women - if we allow this alliance with the fae to continue!” There were shouts of encouragement swelling from the crowd. “If we continue on this path then our women will look like her, horrid in their beauty. And worse, our women will belong to him as Elain belongs to him, as little more than a personal prostitute!”

There was something feral in Lucien’s eye as he glared at Graysen across the room. But while her mate was focused on her ex-fiancé, Elain was drowning in the leering coming from the crowd. People she had just introduced herself to a few hours earlier and had pleasant conversations were now staring at her with revulsion and disgust. She heard shouts of people calling her a ‘witch’, people telling her that she had no shame, that she was to burn in hell.

With her hand fisted in Lucien’s trouser leg, Elain drowned it out, she drowned it all out, and reached for the bond within.

Lucien was a tempest. Brushing up against the bond, Elain herself could feel the fire in his veins, could envision the rings of his powers, burning hotter and hotter all the way down to his golden core. The mating bond was taut in his skin, demanding him to defend Elain, to rip out the throat of anyone who would insult her. But there was another anger there too, a personal one. Lucien was furious on Elain’s behalf; she could read that now. He thought so highly of her and to hear lesser men insult her was turning him livid.

Sharply, Elain tugged on the bond and in an instant, his eyes snapped to hers.  

There was so much emotion in that one look. Concern, fury, bitterness, doubt. It was all there for her to see; he didn’t dilute anything. With as much delicacy and care as she could muster, she slipped her hand from his pant leg into the hand that was dangling by his side.

Slowly, she rose to her feet.

“It is true,” she began, and she felt Lucien’s hand squeeze her own. “I was stolen in the middle of the night by a group of fae. They stole me across land and ocean, all the way to Hybern. It is there where I was thrown into the Cauldron, the maker of all life, and transformed into a High Fae. This is all true.

“But my transformation was an irregularity, an unfortunate yet calculated political move whereby the King of Hybern attempted to get back at my sister for her killing of Aramantha. I expect you to all remember the King of Hybern, given that your own armies joined the fae in the Battle that catalysed these meetings two years ago.

“The King of Hybern was evil. Not the fae of Prythian. The King of Hybern was your enemy and the threat to human life. Not the fae of Prythian. Those such as Lucien here fought for your freedom. Fae died on that battlefield for you to stand here today, and you repay them by villainising them.

“There needs not be any animosity between these mortal lands and the fae realms of Prythian. I grew up like you, believing the fae were evil incarnations that existed to tempt human morality. But unlike you, I have travelled Prythian, I have seen fae from all walks of life, and the reality is the cautionary tales we all heard growing up were nothing more than fiction.

“The fae have homes, wives, children. They have towns and cities, farms, libraries and schools. They wake up each morning and go to work and each evening they have dinner with their families.

“This alliance is not about turning humans into fae, nor turning fae into humans. It’s about recognising life and seeking to protect it from those who might threaten it - and Koschei threatens all of us. We know he seeks to free himself from the confines of his lakeside Manor, we know he wishes to seek vengeance for his imprisonment. But there is much we do not know.

“We do not know how Koschei was bound to the lake, how he steals women of this land and turns them into swans, why he took Vassa, nor what it will take for him to be free. That is why this alliance is paramount.

“Koschei has a fascination with the mortals, he steals mortal women and mortal Queens. His residence is only a few miles south from here, deep in the forest. It is because of this we need mortal alliances.

“You do not need to believe the fae are good, nor must you trust us. But you must understand that all we wish to do is destroy a being who threatens everyone in this room. The alliance need not be a happy one, but it is needed.”

The room had quietened, the shouting had stopped. People were listening to her, and Elain had finally found her voice.

Lucien’s hand squeezed her own and she realised they were both standing before the room of mortals. She could only have an idea of what they must’ve looked like, side by side, glistening with the beauty of the Fae. They must’ve looked united and commanding.

They must’ve looked powerful.

Then, across the room, a man got to his feet. Looking at him for a moment, Elain realised it was the young Lord she had been speaking to with Delilah who owned the rice fields out West. He looked tentative and young as the spotlight fell on him, but when he met Elain’s eye, she saw a fierceness burning there.

“What do you need?”

***

Lucien wanted to get Elain home quickly after the meeting. Today had been unusually tiring, what with Elain’s debut in that dress this morning to the crowds turning on his mate halfway through the meeting. He just wanted to go home.

Correction, he needed to get Elain home and safe and away from these horrible men and their horrible thoughts.

A few noblemen came forth following the meeting expressing their devotion to helping Elain and Lucien in tackling the problem of Koschei. Most of them were young Lords who had come into their father’s wealth unexpectedly after the war, and their hearts had not yet had a chance to become polluted with years of hatred for the fae.

That was a success. No matter how often Lucien had tried to convince the noblemen to even speak of Koschei in the meetings, it seemed that the missing element was both Elain and Queen Vassa.

But before long Lucien had had enough. He wanted Elain home and safe now, and expressing a few half-hearted apologies he looped Elain’s arm through his and guided her out down the pathway before winnowing away without a second notice.

They made their way to the house with some small talk about how well the meeting had gone (Lucien tried his hardest not to spend all his time grovelling about how amazing she was and how fierce and strong she’d looked when addressing the crowds). The maids were there waiting for them with a pot of tea whilst they began on dinner.

It seemed that the meeting had gone on well into overtime and the sun was now distinctly plummeting towards the horizon. But when Vassa and Jurian finally made it back on horseback, there was only Jurian who entered the living room with a glass of whiskey.

“Where’s Vassa?”

“She decided to get her firebird overtime out the way,” Jurian sighed, something bitter in his eye as he flopped carelessly on the couch next to Lucien.

“Does that mean she won’t be turning back tonight?”

“We assume so, we’re not sure how the ring works but if Koschei’s little note is correct then I believe we won’t be seeing Vassa for a few days.”

Lucien cursed under his breath. Jurian just looked tired and…angry.

“There was a note?” Elain asked from where she was perched on her armchair, her legs tucked up underneath her, her dress outlining every curve of her body.

“Yes,” Jurian eyed her for a moment, “You did well out there princess, Lord Cao looked practically ready to sign you his battlements.” The Lord who had spoken at the end of the meeting.

“We talked after,” Elain mused, her finger running around the lip of her glass, “His residency is the closest to Koschei’s manor and he’s invited all of us to come visit, I think if we get close enough we may be able to get a read on the magic that’s bound to the manor.”

“Oh, fun, a day trip,” Jurian sighed bitterly, something clearly having aggravated his mood. He turned his scowl to Lucien. “Are you really going to let your mate within a mile of that place?”

Something dark flickered in Lucien’s eye.

“If Elain deems it a worthy trip then of course we must go. I thought you were interested in seeing Vassa free of the curse?”

“Of course I’m interested in seeing Vassa free, why do you think I’m here?” Jurian hissed.

“To generally give the manor a feeling of unease?”

“To make rude comments about people’s sisters in an attempt to start a fight?” Elain added.

“To make indecent comments about people’s mates in an attempt to-”

“Alright, alright. Mother, you two are no fun.” Jurian rolled his eyes, but some of the tension seemed to leave his body at the teasing. “Have you already eaten?”

Elain and Lucien nodded and Jurian got up with a stretch.

“Yum, leftovers for me then,” was all he said before he headed for the door.

“Jurian,” Elain called, “That note Koschei sent with the ring, could I see it?” Jurian glanced between her and Lucien, seeming to think before he nodded.

“I’ll send it up to your room in the morning," was all he said before he left the room. And once more, Lucien and Elain were left alone with nothing but a crackling fire.

There was a tension there that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it had, maybe they’d both just been too ignorant to see it.

The reality was there would always be that tension between them, that intrigue and possibility. Looking at her now, curled in an armchair, the dress having turned a glittering emerald in the firelight, he felt every inch of his skin respond to her.

Not for the first time, an unplanned fantasy strolled through his mind. An image of himself getting up off this couch and walking over to her, of him placing his knee on her armchair, in between her thighs, capturing her throat in his hand and lowering his lips to hers.

One blink and the image was gone. Perhaps it was the bond showing him these things, taunting him with a possibility that at this moment seemed unachievable.

“I, um, I wanted to talk to you actually,” Elain spoke into the silence, and briefly Lucien fretted if his scent had changed.

“Oh?”

“Yes…about Graysen.” Lucien’s hope dropped like lead in his gut.

“Oh.”

“I just wanted to say that I think you misread my emotions when I found out he was engaged which, I mean that’s not your fault. This whole bond kind of disrupts communication.”

Lucien just nodded. Looking at her, he saw the strands of hair that had come loose around her face, he wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

“I’m not upset about it. I don’t want him anymore,” Elain said plainly. “I just…I guess I want what he has.”

Lucien blinked. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“What, specifically, do you want?” The words were careful, calculated.

“I’m not sure…his happiness? His ignorance?” Elain seemed to scowl slightly and then she was standing, setting her drink on a nearby table as she turned to the fire to warm her hands. Lucien pondered for a moment, definitely not using that time to worship at the way the dress followed the swell of her behind and, Mother help him, her thighs. Then he was up, moving around the table to join her at the fire.

Elain turned and watched him approach with an enigmatic stare, the fire reflecting in her glassy eyes.

“Graysen’s life is perhaps an easier one,” Lucien eventually breathed, “But whilst yours may prove more difficult, it is certainly more worthwhile.” Elain paused as she pondered his thoughts, and Lucien once more allowed himself to drink from her ever-flowing fountain of beauty.

“I just, I think it’s all so unfair.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Why?”

“Because why does he get to be happy? Why does he get to continue to live his life and just find someone else to marry? Is there no such thing as justice?”

“You are free to seek retribution Elain-”

“And give the humans further reason to hate the fae?”

 Lucien blinked. The timing of Graysen’s death would be unfortunate, but Lucien wanted to see the boy dead, even if that meant tomorrow an army would be at his door.

“The humans should be grateful the fae are ridding them of such vermin,” Lucien couldn’t help himself from spitting as he glared out the window. But not before he caught Elain giving a weary look and for the first time, he realised just how tired she looked. The way her shoulders hung forward and her arms curled limply around herself. Something akin to agony washed through him at the sight of his exhausted mate, followed by the overwhelming need to fix it, to take her into his arms and protect her from all the things that worried her. Lucien had to fold his arms tightly across his chest to stop himself from reaching out.

“I don’t want to have any revenge when it comes to Graysen because it’s not going to make me feel better,” Elain looked at the fire as she spoke, and Lucien hated the wobble in her voice. He hated that he didn’t know who was making her cry – him or the boy.

“It might.”

“No. It wouldn’t,” she said with such ferocity Lucien was temporarily reminded of Nesta. “You know why?” Elain scowled, her eyes tightening and her lips turning down into a cruel frown.

“Because I would’ve still loved him if he’d been the one to come back changed. I would’ve still married him, and I would’ve told him it’d be alright, and we’d figure it out together – and killing him isn’t going to change the fact that he wouldn’t do the same for me. That he would’ve never done that for me; and that means he never loved me the way I loved him. You don’t get Lucien. Killing him means nothing because there is nothing I can do to him to make him hurt even half as much as he hurt me because he simply, doesn’t, care. He will never even comprehend what he did to me. He will spend the rest of his life, even if that life ends tomorrow, in blissful ignorance of what he did and the damage he caused. Hurting him back would just be so…so pointless, and…I’m tired.” Elain curled in on herself with an exhausted, angry sigh.

“I know you think I came here because I was ready to finally deal with this…with us,” she met his eye and hunched herself into a smaller ball, her arms winding further around herself, “But that’s not it. I came here because I’m tired and there nothing left for me and, and I’m running out of-of-I’m running out of-”

She was starting to hyperventilate. Madja had warned her of this, the panic attacks that had become a side effect of her depression. She needed to breathe, she needed to calm down, she needed-

Lucien crossed the room in three strides. Some part of Elain wanted to recoil at him approaching her with such ferocity in his step and steel in his eye, but she couldn’t be scared of him. She could be afraid of the bond and what it meant to her, what he meant to her, but Lucien would never hurt her. Ever. That she knew.

He’d stilled in front of her, looking down at her enigmatically. She’d run out of words, and she didn’t know if Lucien understood what she was attempting to say. Every part of her was ready to just break down from how exhausted she was.

The silence drew on. The tension turning palpable, and when she was just about ready to fall to her knees and let the agony take over, his arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her firmly against his chest.

Elain let out a small sob as her face was pushed into the fabric of his shirt, her head resting against his upper ribs and lower chest. She’d never been so aware of how different they were in size; he was the tallest of them all and she the shortest. But it felt…good. And maybe she was touch-deprived, or maybe she was just deluded, but she found herself burrowing into him. He was so warm, and with his arms around her she felt like…like he had her. Like it didn’t matter if she let go and just crumpled because he had her and he wasn’t going to let her hit the floor.

At this point, falling was inevitable. Elain had been falling for some time, plummeting down and down after the Cauldron had tipped her out and washed her corpse on jagged stones. But with Lucien holding her she considered, for the first time, having a soft place to land.

She didn’t want him to see her cry, so she burrowed deeper. Her arms were still curled around her torso; Lucien’s curled around her back. Both of them holding onto her and keeping her together. A few seconds, minutes, hours of silence and she realised that after this, she could never forget how he smelt. Apples, warmth, musk, fresh Earth, smoke. Familiar and foreign. A stranger but…hers.

He smelt like an evening, an Autumnal evening, with a brilliant streaking sunset. The kind where it seemed like the sun had never been so alive, where the sun took the sky and turned into its masterpiece.

He was that masterpiece. The Autumnal sky. The Autumnal Sun.

Sighing, Elain waited for him to recoil. For his arms to slacken and for him to move away, for them to nod awkwardly at each and then go to bed and try to pretend that this conversation hadn’t happened. But time ticked by, and Lucien didn’t let go. If anything, his steely grip only tightened. As though with each passing second, where Elain expected him to drift away, he set out to hold on tighter. Their words had run out tonight, but Elain heard the message he was saying as he held her closer and closer. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.

Elain breathed him in, and allowed herself to stay.

***

Right then, she wanted to tell him that she didn’t know how to do this, but she knew she didn’t want to hurt him. She wanted to say that she wasn’t sure if she could love again, that she might be a lost cause because Graysen had so thoroughly ruined her trust, and she wasn’t sure how high she’d built the walls around both her heart and mind. She wanted to say that she was lonely, and that she thought he was too, and what a funny pair they were in this world full of light and dark. Where good came in the form of people who made them both feel so alone.

She wanted to say that she was at a breaking point and had been for some time. That even though the war had ended it still raged within her. That no one else seemed to care because they’d got the happy endings whilst she just…existed.

She wanted to say that she didn’t know what she wanted. That her dream of being a wife and mother had been buried when she first tried to kill herself, three days after the Cauldron. Because how could she care for anyone else, especially a child, when she couldn’t care for herself.

She wanted to say that right now, in this moment, she just wanted to know him.

She just wanted a friend.

She wanted…

She wanted…

She wanted to run away and never look back. She wanted to damn the world that damned her. She wanted a brain that worked. A family she felt connected to. Someone to care.

Someone to fucking care. That was all.

But for now, this was enough. Lucien pulling her into his arms before she finally collapsed was enough. And so, tonight, she’d sleep. And that was enough too.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

My little Panther; T’Challa x POC!child reader

*Author’s note*

The world is devastated right now. I had read the news last night and I’ve done my mourning, now it’s time for the tribute. I’ve had this on my Wattpad for a good couple of years but never transferred it to here. But hearing the loss of Chadwick, I knew I had to finally post this fic onto my tumblr so that you all can have a read of it. 

We all miss you Chadwick and you were taken away from us FAR. TOO. EARLY. But you didn’t let your cancer define you, you kept working and helped bring such an iconic character to life, as well as sharing the stories of SO. MANY. REAL. LIFE. PEOPLE (Marshall and Jackie Robinson) to screens worldwide. You will be deeply missed and will always be an inspiration to everyone. You and Stan ‘the man’ Lee are once again together in Heaven awaiting for the rest of the Avengers to Assemble.

Long. Live. King. Chadwick. Boseman.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@queensdivas​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@platawnic​

____________________________________________________________

I was hiding within the den eating the food that my mother had collected. All I remember from my old home was fire and death, I remember running to find my parents but then I had gotten lost in the jungle. It was then I came upon a cave, well a den really of a black panther and her cubs. Ever since then I have lived with my mother and three brothers.

I ate the antelope just like my brothers, wrestled like them and slept like them curled up next to my mother's fur. Even though I was different than them and didn't look like them, my mother treated me like I was one of her own and treated me no less. I was currently being bathed by my mother when we heard something outside.

She went on the defense position and gathered me and my brothers up and pushed us closer to the den as she went outside and stalked to whatever it was that was close to our den. I know I shouldn't have but I got curious so I stepped out of the den and peeked over the log to see my mother roaring and swiping her massive paws at another black panther, but this one was different.

This Black Panther mainly stood on two legs, and its fur didn't look like fur and its eyes were not the pure golden cat eyes like my mother's. Mama roared and swiped her paw again at this intruding Black Panther and the other Black Panther backed away and submitted to my mother before turning and walking away but then I saw it look right at me.

I ducked behind the log and raced back into the den just as mother came back inside. She then nudged me towards her back, I got on and soon she led me and my brothers out of the den and we all searched for a new one. Knowing that we had been found, we couldn't stay in the same place for long. Mama always wants us to move if ever any predator found our den in order to ensure our survival.

*T'Challa's POV*

After arriving back to the palace, I couldn't help but think about that child I had seen in the jungle. It was a simple border patrol but what I wasn't aware was that I had stumbled upon a mother panther's den. I had activated my suit just in case but I didn't engage against the mother for I knew she was probably protecting her cubs. That's when I saw the child hiding within the bushes.

After that I had backed away from the mother panther slowly to show her that I wasn't a threat to her or her cubs. Once I was far enough from the den, I decided that it would be best to head back to the palace since there was no sign of trouble, but still my mind kept going back to that child. Who was she? How long has she been in the jungle? Did she have a family?

"Ther. Brother!" My sister's voice snapped me out of my state of mind and she sassed at me, "Did you listen to a word I said?"

"So sorry Shuri, I just—I was thinking about that child".

"A child?"

"Yes, while I was patrolling the jungle to check and make sure our borders were still safe from any weapons traders, I came across this child in the jungle".

"Was she Wakandan?"

"Possible, she definitely wasn't an outsider I know that much".

"I'll see if I can any records on any villages that have been attacked".

"Thank you Shuri". It was then my kimoyo beads activated.

"Ohh your girlfriend calling you?"

"Stop it!" I then allowed the image to come up and up came Okoye.

"My King" she stated.

"What is it Okoye?"

"Trouble by the river province, poachers are approaching the reserve".

"I am on my way". Okoye's image then disappeared. Before I walked out, Shuri stopped me. She then handed me the updated AMP beads.

"Take these with you, they are a much better improvement than the last ones".

"Thank you Shuri". She nodded then I took off running out of the lab.

*My POV*

After finding our new home, I was outside our new den playing with my brothers when I took notice of something shiny just ahead of me. While my two brothers were busy playing with each other and my mother was bathing my other one, I walked away and followed the shiny bright light.

I tried to catch it in my hands but for some reason it didn't want to be caught. I was so caught up in trying to catch the light that I didn't realize that someone was hiding behind the tall grass. As I caught the light one last time, I heard a shot and I was soon caught in a trap.

I cried and snarled out before three men picked me up and one of them spoke.

"She may not be an animal but she'll still sell for a big price".

"Put her in the trunk with the others" another spoke. I thrashed around and let out a cry for help to my Mama. The men put me in this large metal machine and soon took off. I kept crying and crying until I saw my Mama running just behind roaring up at me. She ran faster and faster until she lept in the car.

I tried to reach out for her but the metal trap they put me in kept me from reaching my mama. She managed to get herself in and she walked towards me and used her teeth to free me, but it was then one of the men held a gun in their hands and a loud bang was heard again. Next thing I saw was my mama rolling outside on the ground.

I cried out for her when suddenly the large machine stopped and I along with a few other animals were tossed around.

*3rd Person POV*

The poachers came out of the truck after their car broke down and crashed into a tree. They all complained to each other pointing the blame on the other when the leader silenced them and ordered them to get into defense position.

The men spread out with their guns drawn and as one of them held out his gun he heard a twig snap and turned to see nothing. That was until he looked up and saw a man in a cat suit.

Next thing the poachers, one of their men was tossed at the truck leaving a huge dent in the door. The Black Panther soon showed up and attacked another one of the poachers. T'Challa now stood before the remaining two and as the leader and his second in command were firing at T'Challa. He merely just walked towards them before striking the second in command.

The leader took out his knife and tried to stab T'Challa but he managed to dodge every swing until he grabbed the poacher's hand that was holding the knife and twisted it until he let go and heard it snap. The leader screamed in agony and T'Challa told him venomously.

"Poaching is illegal in these lands, you will be brought before the council and faced with the consequences". T'Challa then knocked the leader unconscious and walked towards the back to see the animals that were inside but was surprised to see another thing in the truck, or rather someone.

It was the child he had seen earlier today.

*My POV*

As I tried to get out of my cage, I saw the same Black Panther that my Mama faced earlier today come around into view. I froze in my spot just staring at him. It was then his panther face disappeared and it showed that he was actually a man.

He had deep dirty brown eyes and fur along his lips and chin and on top of his head. He almost reminded me of a growing lion. As he got closer to me, I snarled and hissed at him trying to be brave like my Mama.

"Easy, easy. I'm not going to hurt you". He held out his hands to me as he slowly came closer and closer to my cage. He then unlocked them and opened it up and proceeded to back away. "It's okay now, come on out now". I sniffed curiously and slowly crawled out of the cage. "That's it, it's okay. I won't hurt you". As I got out of the cage more, I looked between him and my way of escape.

Then like a shot I took off running as fast as I could with the Panther man behind me crying out for me. I raced down the trail until I came to my Mama. She was still down and there was red stuff around her head and fur. I walked up to her and nuzzled her fur and roared out to her. I shook her with my hands and bit into her ear but she still wouldn't wake up.

I roared at her as I felt wetness come down from my eyes then I curled up underneath my mama's paw and nuzzled her head as the wetness continued to come down my face. The Panther man soon came up close to me and I looked up at him and he looked at me with sad eyes.

"I am sorry". He then proceeded to come closer to me and my Mama but I stood over her growling and roaring at him. I let out a hiss but he raised his hands and said to me, "I won't hurt her, I promise". I glared at him. It was because of his kind that my Mama was dead.

Mama always warned us that ape-like creatures called Humans were always to blame for territory loss, stealing our food and killing us to extinction. Now because of his kind, my Mama is gone. But yet looking at his eyes, I felt like I could trust him. I ceased my snarling and just held onto my mama's body.

*T'Challa's POV*

As I looked down at this mother black panther, my heart sunk. She was only trying to save her cub, even though this was a human child, this mother panther looked at her like she was one of her own cubs. For her memory I decided to call this Pantheress "Kamunyak" meaning "Blessed One". I knew it would be dark soon and I had to get this child back to the palace to get her some warmth before the cold settled in.

Wakanda maybe the hottest places in Africa, but its nights are unpredictable. Some nights it would be cool enough to sleep outside, but sometimes they would be so unbearable cold. I gently touched her shoulders and could feel her fighting against me as I picked her up.

"Shhh, shh. Calm down, calm down" I told her in Wakandan. I had to get her calm because I didn't want her to hurt herself. She was raised to believe that she is a panther and I don't want her to bite into my suit and allow the Vibranium to hurt her. I placed her close to my chest and rubbed her back calming her in Wakandan. When it seemed to work, I kept her close and headed back to the jet to take her back to the palace.

When we arrived back at the palace, I had her put in a special room with a bed and warm food so that she could eat real food. And not knowing how long she has been in the jungle or when her last meal was, I took the liberty to give her the best and healthiest foods Wakanda has to offer.

As I observed her, my sister came back with some news. She pulled up on the screen as she stated.

"It turns out this girl comes from a village near Wakanda. It was attacked by some of Klaue's men and burned to the ground. She must've found a way to escape and has been living in the jungle since. How she's managed to survive for 5 years I do not know".

"A Mother panther raised her as one of her own cubs, it would seem Bast herself came down and decided to protect this child as if she were her own". I said out loud.

"You're telling me we have ourselves a Mowgli? Like that story and movie Baba showed us".

"It would seem so Shuri".

"What do you suggest then my King?" Okoye soon stated out.

"She is a child with no family to call her own, and her adoptive mother was shot and killed in front of her. This child needs the best care and only we can offer it".

"Brother are you suggesting that you are going to raise her?"

"I feel responsible for this child's mother's death. I cannot just let her die with no one to take care of her, knowing that we can teach her who she really is". I stated firmly. My general and sister looked at me then Okoye bowed her head and said.

"Just don't freeze when her feral stage comes back".

"What are you talking about? I never freeze" I stated. I then turned my attention back to the girl and decided to talk to her. I opened the door and shut it behind me. She instantly became alert of my presence and she got down in defense position baring her teeth at me. "Easy little one, I am not here to hurt you, may I sit down?" She seemed to understand me which was a good sign, at least then I knew she could understand me.

I took a seat far enough from her but kept my eyes on her in case anything were to happen.

"My name is T'Challa, do you remember your name?" She remained quiet and poked around the fruit and sniffing them like a cat would. I took a deep sigh and told her, "I know losing your Mama was hard, I lost my Baba not too long ago, and I would give anything to save him too. But I swear to you on my Baba's soul and that of your mother's, I will look after you and protect you. You will never be alone". She then looked up at me and I remained still as I saw her actually coming up towards me.

Slowly and cautiously, but sure enough she came right in front of me until she wrapped her arms around me and nuzzled into my chest. I placed my hand on top of her head and stroked her hair and slowly wrapped my arm around her to pick her up and place her in my lap and hold her in my arms as she nuzzled deeper into my chest.

Within several months of teaching and immense patience, I had given her the name (y/n) was soon learning how to be a human girl, learning how to eat properly, how to walk, learning the history of Wakanda, even learning how to speak both in English and Wakandan.

I along with Nakia and Shuri taught her everything she needed to know and were there to give her the love she deserved and needed. As night fell, I tucked (y/n) in after a long day of staying with Auntie Shuri in her lab while I dealt with some political matters after opening up Wakanda to the rest of the world. I stroked her hair and kissed her forehead and whispered to her.

"Goodnight my little panther cub". And as I turned off her light and was about to shut the door, I heard her voice say.

"Goodnight Baba". I let a warm smile take over me as I shut the door behind me and decided to turn in for the night myself.

[thinkingimmensely]

Like an Open Book VIII

Part 1 | Part 7 | Part 9

A/N: Hi everyone! I’m sorry for the long hiatus! I mentioned in my previous updates that life has been a roller coaster and the pandemic isn’t helping at all. But I’m slowly getting back on my feet and I actually enjoy writing again lately. So here’s the long awaited update for this story! <3  I hope everyone is doing great, stay safe guys! 

Also, I tried something different in the start, I hope ya’ll don’t mind! :D

MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from the Potterverse!

___________________

E c h o e s

Your mind was like a cave that had voices bouncing off its walls; echoing deeper in its crevice.

You’ve lost yourself in that cave countless of times before, each one was not a moment you looked back on fondly. Now you’re back and it seemed like the rocky walls of thoughts were closing in on you.

C    l   o   s  i  n g   r i g h t   in

Covering your ears didn’t help, but you did it anyway. People were running amok; children were being separated from their parents, friends were losing each other in the crowd and you couldn’t focus even if you had to- the voices in reality was being mixed with the ones in your head.

Everyone was screaming.

You felt someone pull you away just as a flash of green hit the spot where you just stood.

You didn’t even know who he was.

“Y/N, are you all right?!” The person shook you, and you looked into hazel eyes that were wide with worry and fright. His hands held you by your shoulders in a vice-like grip and you were pretty sure he wasn’t even aware of it himself. “Stay with me. Focus on me.” His voice left no room for argument and you found yourself keenly aware of how close your bodies were. If the both of you weren’t stuck in this life or death situation, you would’ve turned into a million shades of red right now.

The both of you were hunched back behind some bushes, shielding you from the sight of any Death Eater around the area. He pried your hands away from your ears, his eyes never leaving yours, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”  

You didn’t realize you were crying until now, but everything in your head seemed quieter as James Potter’s thoughts drowned everyone else’s away. I’ll keep you safe, we’ll get out of here, we’ll get out. You breathed in a shaky breath and got your wand out of the pocket of your hoodie. “I won’t let anything happen to you too.”

-FIVE DAYS AGO-

You and Remus shared a look as the three boys who sat across from you devoured their ice cream as fast as they could; seems like the concept of brain freeze was foreign to them.

The five of you were currently at the ice cream parlor Remus had mentioned in his letter. He was quite surprised when the lot of you arrived, quite the contrary to when you, James, and Sirius had gone to get Peter; the blonde was quite ecstatic, having already packed his stuff. It was as if he was already waiting for you guys to arrive even though none of the boys had sent a word beforehand of the plans.

The parlor was jam-packed with people trying to escape from the heat, it was a miracle that you even found seats to begin with.

You heard a series of hushed whispers and giggling and you turned to see the girls from the neighboring table eye the boys with you, particularly Sirius. It was something to get used to- gathering the attention of people by being associated with these four, and you didn’t know if you’d ever get used to it.  

Remus gained your attention soon enough by asking how the boys were able to get you to go with them. James had no problem retelling the entire endeavor in your stead though, saying that you glossed over the best parts and to let the pro-storyteller do the talking. Much to your dismay and embarrassment, he had included the part where you nearly fell off Sirius’ bike on the way to Peter’s.

Remus’s chuckles died down as he grinned at you, “Cheer up Y/N, I’m sure you’ll get a hang of it soon enough.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “Yeah, no. I’m not riding that thing-” You pointed your spoon to the motorbike parked right across the street under some tree for shade. “-ever again.”  

Sirius grinned at you but before he could get a word out, one if the girls had arrived at your table, a confident glint in her eye and a light blush across her powdered face. “Hey.” She greeted.

A chorus of hey’s and hello’s rang out from your group in reply.

“Um, so my friends and I couldn’t help but notice you guys and we just wanted to ask if you lot wanted to hang out back at my place? We have a pool and everything and we could just chill y’know?” She flipped her long, silky blonde hair back her shoulders.

You tore your eyes away from her and saw Peter awaiting the other’s answer, you knew he wanted them to say yes without even having to look into his mind. Remus looked uncomfortable while James and Sirius shared a look.

“Sorry, but we’re kind of busy later.” Sirius drawled out smoothly. “Y’see we’re only here for a couple of hours before we leave.”

Disappointment flashed in her eyes but she still looked quite determined, “Well what about we hang out right now? You guys can order another serving of ice cream.”

Sirius beamed at her, his perfect white pearls showing. “Sorry lovely, but we’re kind of in a middle of something.” It was James who replied this time. He had also stolen a spoonful of your ice cream, sighing in delight of the cool treat.  

The girl turned away in a huff, angry at the rejection. After everyone was done eating, you guys stood up to leave, you followed behind the boys, not at all that eager to get out of the cool building and into the scorching heat.

“I don’t understand why you guys came all the way out here to get me when I could’ve just used the Floo network to get to James’.” Remus said once the five of you neared his house.  

“And pass up the chance to try out my new bike? No sir.” Sirius snorted.

“Besides,” James started, “We wanted to try that ice cream shop you mentioned in your letters.”  

You trailed behind them as you listened to their conversation, kicking some pebbles out of your way. The heat was beating down you with the afternoon sun and you could feel the sweat trickle down your forehead, which you hastily wiped away. The walk to Remus’ house was fairly far, probably because his parents thought it was better to isolate themselves (albeit not totally) due to their son’s condition.  

“You alright Y/N?” James asked as he matched his pace with yours, his three friends talking a few feet ahead of them. He fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and ran it through your forehead. “I guess you don’t do well with heat?”

“I just haven’t been outside for a while.” You replied and flushed as he dabbed his handkerchief behind your neck. You immediately took the hankie from him, “Icoulddothatmyselfthankyou.” You hastily blurted. You missed the amused smirks the three boys threw your way having just witness the scene because you were busy being too self-conscious about yourself to notice.  

When you reached the humble home of the Lupins, his father Lyall Lupin, greeted all of you warmly while his mother, Hope, sat by the dinner table, a book on her lap as she drank her afternoon tea. “You must be Y/N,” She smiled fondly at you before Remus could even introduce you. “You’re much prettier in person than from the photograph.” She held out her hand and you reached out to shake it, confusion evident on your face.  

Sirius beamed brightly, “Pardon me, was I hearing things or is it true that Remus keeps a photograph of Y/N?” He turned to look at James in amusement, the bespectacled boy looked absolutely annoyed with this new piece of information.  

“Mother, honestly,” Remus whined, “I keep a picture of all my close friends. You’re giving them the wrong idea.” Hope laughed softly, apologizing for teasing her son.  

The Lupin couple nonchalantly agreed to let Remus visit the Potter residence, they were glad he was going out to spend time with his friends actually, completely different from your family who just wanted you out of the house because they didn’t want to deal with you.  

James, Remus, and yourself would be taking the Floo Network from this point while Sirius and Peter would continue the journey using Sirius’ bike just because it wouldn’t fit inside the fireplace. James headed towards the Fireplace first while Remus said his goodbyes to his parents.  

“Have a grand time, son.” Lyall patted him on the shoulder while his mother gave him a hug. “Take care, Remus, have fun.”  

You turned away and approached James instead of lingering around the family. “So,” you started, “I heard you had a lake behind your house.”

He grinned at you, “You been asking about me?” You could practically feel his ego inflating with the very thought. 

“No,” You deadpanned, “Remus just told me you guys take dips there every summer.” You answered, wiping the grin off of his face. He furrowed his brows at you and his mouth formed a thin line. Was bringing his huge head back down to earth really that bad? You waited for him to reply, and he was about to, but Remus arrived at that moment, his backpack slung over his shoulders, he took his place beside you which irked the raven-haired boy more.  

You arrived at the Potter’s residence without a hitch, and Fleamont and Euphemia Potter greeted all of you, already expecting your arrival. They gave you the extra bedroom to yourself while the boys would be sharing James’ room. James had already taken the liberty to deposit your bag there while Euphemia brewed tea and baked cookies for everyone.  

“Is there anything I can help with?” You asked the aging lady as she scurried about the kitchen. Fleamont and Remus were at the living room playing Wizard’s Chess.  

“Oh, you can place the cookies on a plate Y/N dear, I think they’ve cooled down now.” She answered, flashing a motherly smile your way. Such a pretty, young lass.  

“Thank you.” you answered, flushing from the compliment.

Euphemia looked at you questioningly, “Whatever for, dear?”

Oh. You mentally smacked yourself. Why the hell did you keep on doing this? You should really pay more attention. “I mean, for having us over.” Nice save.  

Euphemia waved you off, “It’s nothing dear. Friends of Jamie is always welcomed here. Thank you also, for putting up with the boys, I know they can be a handful sometimes, but they’re good lads.”

“Something smells heavenly in here.” James’ voice boomed as he entered the kitchen. Before you could transfer the cookie to the plate, James appeared right beside you and took a bite. You turned to him but was taken aback by how close he was that your noses were nearly bumping each other. Whatever you were about to say was forgotten as you could feel your blood rush to your face.  

He was so close that you could see the golden specks on those ocean eyes behind his dark-rimmed glasses. Someone cleared their throat and you immediately moved back, keeping your emotions and you Legilimency at check. Because whatever that feeling was that glazed on the eyes of the boy, you didn’t want to know.  

“You two seem close.” Sirius’ commented, his shit-eating on that obnoxious face.

“Oh, sod of Pads.” James retorted as you busied yourself, obviously feeling awkward about whatever just happened.  

“James, mind your manners.” His mother scolded as Sirius approached the older woman and greeted her with a hug. “Had a safe ride, Sirius?” She asked.

“That’s right, not one itsy bitsy accident.” He replied and took a cookie from the cooling rack. “You still make the best cookies, Euphemia.”  

“I’ll take these to the others then.” You mumbled, Euphemia calling out a thank you before you completely escaped the kitchen.  

You took your seat beside Remus after you set the cookies on the coffee table. They were just about finished with the game and Fleamont was losing.  

“Okay?” Remus asked when you sat down, you flashed him ma smile and nodded, so he turned back to the game. “I think that’s checkmate, sir.”  

Fleamont stared at the board for a couple of seconds before sighing in defeat; he held out his hand, which Remus gladly shook. “Good game as always, Remus.”

“Always a pleasure.” The brunette replied. James and Sirius entered the living room carrying the teapot and cups, setting the things down on table beside the cookies.  

“I almost forgot!” Sirius exclaimed when Remus started pouring tea for everyone. He fished out a crumpled paper from the pocket of jacket and presented it to you guys. “A concert!”

You huddled together as you tried to read the fine print. “A Muggle concert.” You pointed out. You’ve never been in one of those, but you weren’t a fan from the get-go. Didn’t concerts normally have a lot of people?

“Sounds brilliant!” James took the poster from his best friend’s hands and read it, “It says it takes place 5 days from now at the next town.”

“I don’t think it’s such a good idea-” Remus tried to object, and with the concerned look he gave you, you know it was on your benefit.  

“Oh come on, lighten up Moony. This will be epic.” Sirius argued.  

“I-I agree, I think it’ll be fun.” You voiced out hesitantly and Sirius looked at you with a bright smile.

“See?! Even Y/N agrees with me. Don’t be such a sour potato and let’s just go to enjoy. It is summer after all.

“Are you sure?” Remus whispered.  

“It’ll be fine.” You tried to convince not only Remus, but also yourself. It’ll be fine, what’s the worst that could happen, right?

___________________ 

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[harrysbbby]

Don’t Forget Where You Belong - JJ Maybank x Reader - Part Six

A/N: please feel free to send me your thoughts! updates might slow down over the next week or so as I finish up my study, but after this week I should be able to update regularly but enjoy xx

Previous parts:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

You sat in the backseat of John B’s van as he drove along the gravel road. For as long as you had known John B, you knew that once he set his mind to something, there was next to nothing that could deter him. So, as you bobbled around in the seat next to Pope, you listened to him chase the trail his dad had left for him.

“I mean, it's obvious, right?” he said, head swivelling to speak to all of you, “A family heirloom. What better place to hide a message? He had to know it was gonna get back to me,’ he paused before squeaking out “right?”

“It’s possible,” you assured him. You could hear the desperation in his voice as he clung to anything that resembled an ounce of his father.

Pope shot you sideways glace before stating, “It could also be possible that you're concocting wild theories to help, you know, deal with your sad feels.”

He was twiddling with the compass in his hands as he spoke. Kie turned around in her seat to send him her most daring glare as you whacked the upside of Pope’s head, before snatching the compass from his grasp. He went to grab it, but you smacked his hand. He let out a small “ow” before rubbing the back of his left hand.

“Bro, you know how I process my sad feels—” JJ began to speak, sitting to the backside of John B.

“Oh, here we go,” you sighed, placing the compass in your lap as you piped up to hear JJ’s words. He frowned at you, before shifting his body to speak directly to you.

“—dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies,” he spoke matter-of-factly. You let out a sputter of laughter as you looked back down at the compass, shaking your head in incredulity. He turned back around to speak into John B’s ear, “that’s how I do it.”

“I'm not concocting, okay?” John B said forcefully, cutting JJ off, “My dad's trying to give me a message.”

“If it helps you believe, John B,” Kie said, but it wasn’t convincing. She just wanted him to feel better.

“Look, I-I don't need a therapy session, okay?” He said frantically.

“We know—” you tried to reassure him, but he cut you off.

“I'm not trippin' out.” He affirmed. JJ started to assure him his feelings were normal,

“t's okay to trip, bro, but—”

“Look, my-- my dad is missing, okay? Missing.” He said it with finality. Nothing any of us said to him would change his mind, but I already knew that. “You don't know what it's like to have the person closest to you vanish and then have no idea what happened. Just wake up every morning wondering.”

His voice got softer as he spoke, the sadness evident in every word that came from his lips. You sighed, looking down at the compass.

“I know it’s been really hard,” your voice was barely above a whisper, careful to not stomp on the eggshells John B had laid down around you, “but it’s nearly been a year.”

His eyes met yours I the rear vision mirror. You knew it broke him to hear it, but you care so much about him, you didn’t want him to break even more by believing something that had the smallest chance of being true.

You cut off your eye contact with him, unable to take the stare he was piercing into you through the mirror. You looked to JJ who was sat opposite you. His shoulders were hunched as he watched the two of you speak. He sat up straighter as he turned in his seat towards John B,

“Hey, he could have been kidnapped,” that was his (poor) attempt to cheer John B up, “That's definitely a possibility.”

“Yeah, could be in a Soviet sub getting interrogated by the KGB somewhere.” Pope chimed in.

“Absolutely. Uh... or Atlantis,” JJ finished. You sat back in your seat as you held the compass up, inspecting it further.

“JJ,” Kie silenced him, “what do you think the message is?”

She asked John B. Your fingers danced over the carving on the inside of the lid.

“Redfield,” John B said, “Redfield Lighthouse. That's my dad's favourite place.”

So, he drove you there. As you pulled in front of the lighthouse the 5 of you exited the vehicle gathering in the clearing.

John B turned to JJ immediately, “Right. You're gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?”

“Wait... Why me?” He asked, offended.

“Because you're not coming,” Pope stated.

“Why?” JJ argued. Pope grabbed his shoulders and turned him towards him.

“There are independent and dependent variables. You’re and independent variable—”

“Shut up,” JJ started yelling over the top of Pope’s voice which only grew louder.

“We don't know what you'll do!”

“Shut up!”

“Listen to me for a second!” John B ceased their fighting. “Pope, you stand look out with JJ. Okay?”

The two boys huffed, but reluctantly nodded.

“And Y/N will stay to make sure you don’t keep arguing,” John B stated sternly.

You let out a laugh as you placed an arm around each boy, tugging them in closer to you,

“My favourite pastime is making sure these two boys don’t kill each other!”

They simultaneously grunted and shoved your arm off their shoulders. John B continued,

“If we get split up, we meet back at JJ's house.”

“Great,” Kiara confirmed as her and John B jumped over the small white fence and made their way towards the lighthouse.

“I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay,” Pope informed the two of you. JJ pulled a happy sack out of his back pocket (why he had it, to this day you still did not know) and started kicking it around, “and I'm trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ huffed at him, kicked the small object with his feet.

Pope moved away from the two of you and back to the van, where he dug into his backpack and got out a notepad. You sighed as you slumped against the tree to your right and slid down it until you reached the leafy floor. You brought your knees to your chest as you watched JJ play with the toy.

“Why am I the independent variable?” he asked after a while. He sounded like a little kid who had been told off and sent to time out. You turned your eyes back to him, having to let them adjust to the change in light. You had been staring up at the sky, watching how the clouds floated slowly through the air.

You blinked a few times before answering him, “I mean, you did steal a gun from a crime scene and then pull said gun out on a public beach in front of many, many witnesses.”

You stared at him with your eyebrows raised. He took the happy sack and started throwing it in the air, in the most attention-deficit, JJ way he could.

“Right,” he responded, watching the object fly into the air and down again. You smiled light and shook your head as you stood up, brushing the back of your legs off.

“Come on Maybank, show me what you’re made of,” you challenged, swaying side to side in readiness. He smirked before kicking the happy sack to you, and you kicked it back.

You rallied back and forth a few times, before you heard the sound of sirens approaching. You missed the happy sack flying towards as your eyes pricked up. JJ turned around and you could see the police truck coming towards you.

“Shit,” you cursed, sprinting towards the van. Pope had already jumped into the front seat and started the engine.

“The happy sack!” you heard JJ cry as he ran behind you.

“This is not the time!” you called back as you got into the back of the van. He followed closely behind you and you slammed the door shut behind him. Pope took off down the dirt road as quickly as he could.

***

It was later that day and Kie had called you to The Wreck. After, you, Pope and JJ had ditched the other two, they decided it would be a good idea to wait for John B at his house instead. You decided to drive back home but got the text from Kie just before you were there, so you diverted your path and met her at her family business.

“He kissed me,” she had just filled you in on what had happened at the lighthouse.

You let out a low whistle, “wow”

“I know,” she said, her brows creased as she moved around the kitchen, sorting things into boxes.

“Did you like it?” you asked her. You had always seen the way she looked at him, but the monotonous tone she used when she described the kiss didn’t support that.

“Not really,” she said truthfully. She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she put the items in her hands down on the bench. “I love John B, I really do. Just not like that.”

You nodded, understanding exactly how you felt. It was the same for you.

You heard the bell ding as the front door open and shut again and when you turned you saw Pope walking into The Wreck. You smiled at him, whereas Kiara went back to busily organising things.

“Come on, another “John B, figure out my missing dad’s coded message” mission awaits.”

You nodded, moving off your chair and back towards the door with Pope, however, both of you stopped in your tracks as Kiara spoke,

“You guys go ahead.”

“What?” Pope asked her. She stopped what she was doing to look and him and shrugged,

“I’m not going.”

You and Pope exited through the door, you continued towards the van, nearing where JJ was resting from the passenger window.

“She’s not coming!” Pope called down to the two boys.

“Why not?” JJ asked – “Shit – “What'd you do to her, John B?”

As you reached the outside of the passenger door, John B opened his own door, getting out to move inside.

“Hang on. I'll deal with it,” he quickly sprinted inside, and passed Pope who came to meet you at the van.

“What was that all about?” he said, pointing back over his shoulder at a frantic John B who had just flung the door to The Wreck open.

“He kissed her,” you told them.

“He WHAT?!” JJ exclaimed, sitting up in his seat and leaning out the window to look at you. Pope’s mouth hung open in shock.

“He kissed her,” you repeated, “but she wasn’t into it! That’s all I know,” you said, arms raised in surrender as the two guys begged for more answers with their eyes.

The three of you shut up hastily as John B and Kie exited The Wreck. He quickly made his way into the van. Kiara made her way through the back, head down, refusing to look at any of you. Pope and JJ made eye contact and began snickering. You rolled your eyes at their childish antics. You grabbed Pope’s head and shoved him into the back. JJ was still giggling, so you reached forward and flicked his forehead. He sent you a dirty look, which was meant only by your air kiss and wink. You slid into the back of the van and John B started to navigate once again.

It was nightfall by the time you reached the cemetery.

“This place is scary,” Kiara commented as the five of you waded through the grass and headstones with the little light your flashlights provided.

“John B, what are we doing here?” you asked him, looking around at the spiderwebs that dangled eerily close from the trees.

“Shut up,” he hushed you all, “You know how you're trying to remember a song and can't remember who sings it?” he began what you guessed was going to be a very long-winded and confusing analogy.

“I guess,” you replied sceptically.

“So, Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place, right? But it's not a place,” he came to a halt in front of a large tombstone. Across the top in large letters read ‘REDFIELD’, “It's a person.”

“Voi-effing-là,” JJ commented in disbelief.

“See, my great-great-grandmother Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.”

“Ahhh, I see,” you said, taking in the large structure. The three boys tried to push the tomb door open, you and Kie attempting to help:

“Are you pushing?”

“Yes, I’m pushin!”

“Come on”

“This door is like 700 pounds,” Pope said disdainfully, “It's not gonna budge.”

“We didn't come this far to get this far, all right?” JJ said, moving back to push on the concrete again.

From within the gap, a on object slithered out, making threating hissing noise.

“That's a moccasin, all right,” JJ identified the snack, “Ye olde Dr. Cottonmouth, death in tall grass”

You squeal as the snake weaved its way around you and into the tall grass.

“Woof, woof, woof!” JJ was stood next to you, leaning down barking at the snake.

You whacked his chest,

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re gonna wake the freaking dead, man!” Pope yelled.

“They’re afraid of dogs,” JJ stated, looking between you and Pope. You pinched your eyebrows together, pressing him to say more, “everyone knows that.”

He said it as if you were stupid. You shook your head and shoved him lightly out of the way, but he grabbed your shoulders holding you back against his chest.

“What?” you huffed.

“If there's one, there's probably dozens,” he said.

“What?” Pope asked.

“All around,” he kept one arm situated around the front of your body and used his other hand to wave it through the air, flashing a smile at Pope as he teased him. Your body swayed with him.

“Stop, you’re scaring me,” Kie’s timid voice shook.

JJ started barking again, leaning around you direct his voice towards the ground.

“Stop barking at the snakes,” John b reprimanded.

“Look, John—” Pope started but JJ cut him off,

“Just making sure it's clear—”

“—Shut up! John, look—”

“—it’s a snake.” You lifted your arm backwards to whack JJ’s chest. You chuckled as you shushed him, his arm remaining around your body, you back flush against his chest.

“We’re not gonna get in there,” Pope finally got out, “It's not budging”

You inspected the tombstone. The door was missing a large chunk and the gap was covered by overgrown plants, but it could probably fit a small human…

“We should probably just go,” Pope suggested, but you spoke up.

“I can get through.”

“What?” John B said

“Yeah, what?” JJ echoed, his grip tightening on you as he bent around you to get a look at your face. You were still staring at the human sized hole.

“No, no, no, no. You think you're gonna fit through the hole?” John B asked.

“Yeah I totally could.”

“Y/N”

“This is about your dad John B,” you said, looking directly at him.

“I’ll do it,” Kie spoke for the first time. You all turned to look at her, but she kept her gaze on the tombstone, “I honestly… I really don't believe in it,” she turned to face John B, “but you deserve to know the truth.”

“I’ll get those,” JJ said letting you out of his grip and moving towards the tomb to tear off the shrubbery. You felt a cold chill run down your spine as his body warmth left yours. They got the passageway clear.

“Give her a boost,” John B told JJ. He squatted against the wall, placing his hands for her to put her foot on.

“I'm gonna boost you, all right. I've seen it in the movies several times. Ready?”

Kiara handed you her flashlight before standing on his hands. Once up there, she turned to look down at John B.

“Remind me what we're looking for?”

“You'll know when you see it,” he told her.

“All right, on three,” JJ instructed, but Kie immediately climbed over and on to the other side, “Okay, never mind. Just forget about three.”

You heard her feet land on the other side. Before JJ had a chance to move, you stood on his hands. He grunted at the unexpected weight but held his position. You handed Kiara her flashlight, being able to just see over the wall. You remand there looking, only able to see what small light her flashlight illuminated.

“You alive? You got, like, a-- a heartbeat and everything?” John B asked her.

“So far.”

“That’s good,” John B sighed.

“I need some more light,” she said looking around. You turned to John B who passed you up one of the larger lanterned. You held it over the other side for her to see. You could see her eyes focus on something. You felt a smile tug on your lips as you spoke,

“Oh my god,” you said.

“Did you find something?” JJ asked, looking up at you.

Kie turned to you smiling, and you beamed back. She had found something.

Tag list:

if you would like to be added please request via my inbox if you can! it’s just easier to keep a track of! im sorry if it wouldn't let me tag you :(

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[come-on-shitty-boys]

//the first spring. miya atsumu//

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: none

Notes: i’m so sorry for not updating at my normal time today 😭😭 here’s a new series to make up for it!

PART I. II. III. IV.

There was something about the season that breathed a new life into Atsumu Miya.  Maybe it was the gentle breeze that carried the faintest whiffs of the approaching summer.  Perhaps it was grass that was finally regaining its color after being buried under a heavy layer of snow.  Each year, each spring, was new and exciting and it brought a whole new set of opportunities and experiences.  

He just didn’t expect his new experience to be you.  

But there you were, fingers laced with his, swinging his hand cutely between your bodies.  Your eyes were trained on the path ahead, but there was a smile on your face, that same smile that made his heart do a little backflip in his chest the very first time he saw it.  The same smile that still brought those nervous butterflies to his stomach.  

At the start of the year, if someone had told him that he’d be hopelessly head over heels in love with some random girl from his brother’s shop, he would’ve snorted and asked what game you were playing, but much to his dismay, that’s exactly what happened.  It was still new, still fresh, much like the season itself, but that’s what made it as beautiful as it did.  

It had been so long since he had entered a relationship, but something about this one, just felt different.  There was a feeling surrounding it that had his breath catching in his throat every time you look at him.  It had his heart beating a little faster every time he saw your name come across the phone of his screen, trying to conceal his small smile to avoid the teasing remarks from his brother.  Each time Atsumu would get to relish in the feeling of his head spinning as he listened to you talk about all of the things you loved.  

“Hey, ‘mu?” You ask, gently squeezing his hand to bring his attention back towards you.

He hums softly, casting his gaze down towards you.  “What’s up, princess?”

Your free hand reaches up towards his hair, plucking something from the soft blonde strands.  “You have cherry blossom petals in your hair.”  

He watches as you let the little petals flitter down towards the ground on their release, collecting amongst all of the others that had covered the edges of the path, steadily growing denser as the trees became more populated.  Everywhere around you, there were people shaded beneath the branches, taking pictures, laughter carrying through the air as light as feathers.  The two of you could’ve stopped long ago.  There had been plenty of open spots away from the crowds, plenty of spots that would’ve been absolutely perfect for a picnic.  But, none of them had the same feeling that this one spot in particular had.  It was a longer walk and a bit of a hassle to get there, but it was worth it, every single time.

Atsumu tugs your hand gently, bringing your eyes back up to his face.  “This way, princess.”  He starts leading you towards a thicket of trees, away from the rest of the park visitors.

“Why?  Are you going to take me into the woods so you can kill me?” You joke.  

Your boyfriend stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, confusion scrunching his brows.  “I thought that was obvious.”  Your face must’ve reflected about a thousand different layers of shock, because he just laughed, patting the top of your head teasingly.  “Come on, princess. What do you take me for?  A serial killer?  I just have someplace special that I want to show you.  It’s at the top of this hill.  I promise that you won’t regret it.”

You nod slightly, letting Atsumu take the lead into the woods.  The trek was anything but easy.  The steep slope was only made more difficult by the damp soil that had your shoes covered in a thick layer of mud.  Tree limbs had fallen and had never been cleared, leaving you to either find a way around or risk tearing a hole in your leggings.  Logs or large rocks that blocked your path were combatted by Atsumu’s hands on your waist to lift you up and over the obstacles.

But he had been right.  The sight had left you stuck in your tracks before you even got there.  At the top of the hill was another cherry blossom tree, not unlike all of the others in the park, but this one was older, a thicker trunk and fuller branches stretching towards the sky.  The sun was lost behind all of the pink petals.  

“Beautiful, yeah?”

“How did you find this place?”

“My parents would bring me and ‘Samu here to take embarrassing family photos every year when we were little.”  He winced a little at all of the memories of the stiff khaki pants and the uncomfortable polo shirts, posing in awkward stances next to his brother.  

You turn to look at him, a small smirk pulling at the corner of your lips.  “Guess I’ll have to ask Osamu about those next time I’m in the shop.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“We’ll see how this date goes,” you say, patting his chest lightly before walking the last stretch up to the top of the hill.  Atsumu has to jog to catch up with you, his long legs making it an easy task.  He pulls you back to him by the tail of your shirt, holding you firmly against his chest.

“This will be the best date you’ve ever had, princess, and I promise that each one will be better than the last,” he whispers, the gentle tenor of his voice tickling your ears, the warmth of his body filling you with a sense of comfort that you never thought you’d get to experience through another person.  

“I’m going to hold you to that, ‘mu.”

His hands trace up your form until they’re resting on your shoulders.  He gives them a tender squeeze before letting his hand find its place back in yours.  “By all means, princess, please do.”  Atsumu places his backpack down on the ground, laying out a blanket on the ground and pulling out the lunches that had been packed.  He had gone and picked up your favorites from his Osamu’s shop, so maybe the presentation of the neatly shaped onigiri would make up for the fact that he hadn’t actually made lunch like he said he would.  

As hours passed and lunches had been consumed, your back slowly found itself a home against his chest, your head leaning lazily against his shoulder, fingers twiddling with his own.  The few rays of sun that managed to fight their way through the boughs bounced off your being, casting a gentle glow over your form that left Atsumu feeling like he had reached cloud nine.  

Spring was a season full of new beginnings and new stories.  Life flourished so beautifully in the soft sunlight that finally broke through the clouds of bleak winter days.  Birds sang new melodies, trees were once again able to stretch their leaves towards the brilliant blue of the sky.  Flowers were able to bloom and children were able to race through the grass, splashing in the puddles of the spring rains, covering their clothes in mud and stains of every shape and size.  But, spring also let new romances come to light.  Somewhere on a hill, underneath a cherry blossom tree that was hidden away from the eyes of onlookers, a young couple shared their beginning.  A first kiss that would leave cheeks flushed and hearts pounding, breathless smiles as lips were reconnected for a second and maybe even a third.  

It was hidden away under those branches that Miya Atsumu found a new fascination for spring and a new love for the feeling of your lips on his.

{taglist: @nicka-nell​ @moncymonce​}

[kuramirocket]

Growing up in California in my grandmother's house, surrounded by tías, tíos, and all my cousins, I always felt a deep connection to my Mexican-American roots. Every generation of my father's family has had incredibly different experiences that reflect much about American history. 

My great-grandfather on my abuela's side, Daniel Martinez, grew up in Mexico and immigrated to Los Angeles. Eventually, he saved enough money to open a neighborhood market, which is where he met my great-grandmother, Guadalupe Miranda Martinez. She had come from Mexico to Los Angeles with her mother and brother as a young teenager. They soon married and began having children. When he lost his business in the 1920s, the family turned to migrant farm work. They were forced to use segregated water fountains and bathrooms and my darker-skinned tíos and tías were sent to Mexican schools, while those with light skin and blonde or red hair were allowed to attend schools with white students.

Unhappy with the segregated schools, my great-grandfather joined up with other families to open the East Barrio School for Latinos in Claremont, CA — fighting the status quo is part of my heritage! They taught reading and writing in Spanish and learned Mexican history at a time when it was hard to show pride about being Mexican.

My great-grandfather on my abuelo's side, Catalino Alba, came from Mexico during the Revolution. He met my great-grandmother when he immigrated to Gallup, NM, where he helped build the Santa Fe Railroad. He was a musician and inspired my abuelo José Alba to sing, practice traditional Mexican dance, and become an accomplished classical guitarist. As a child, there was never a family party where my abuelo didn't play guitar while my abuela, tíos and tías, and cousins sang along. Perhaps this is where I got my love for the performing arts!

My great-grandfather moved to San Bernardino, CA, to work on the railroad and my abuelo José Alba grew up in the barrio where he and his siblings slept head to foot. With little food at home, he often asked the neighbors for fruit from their fruit trees. He was compelled to eat dirt, which he later learned was a natural response to the lack of iron that he needed in his diet. As a kid, he wasn't allowed to swim in a public pool without a certification of vaccination. He would often get glass stuck in his shoes because the soles were so thin and worn out — he couldn't afford anything else. At one point, glass punctured his foot, and as a result he developed lockjaw, which was nearly fatal.

When he could work, he made money selling oranges and picking potatoes. He says the first thing he did when he had money was to go down to Main Street to have his shoes shined by a young boy. He told that boy that he would come every week because he knew he was trying to make his own way too.

There were 12 kids in the family and my abuelo is proud that his mom figured out a way to send them to school as soon as it was possible. She understood the value of education. Even though it was hard for them, she made it a priority.

This is my abuelo and abuela's wedding above — so classic. I always thought our ancestors were Spanish, but I learned through genetic testing that they were Native American, with roots that may go back as far as the Mayan civilization. We've been here from the beginning!

My parents, Mark and Catherine Louisa Alba, were so different . . . but they had the same hairstyle! I know that when my dad was growing up it was difficult for him and his parents to be Mexican-American. The hyphen wasn't an option back then.

My abuelo had only learned English when he transferred to grammar school at around 6 years old, and he was way behind as a result. Like many others of their generation, my grandparents didn't teach their children, including my dad, to speak Spanish. My abuelo says that he didn't even think about it, but I wonder if he associated it with a difficult transition in his life.

I want my girls to embrace their Latino roots, know how much we have contributed to this country, and understand that the road ahead is richer when we acknowledge and embrace our heritage. I want them to learn Spanish like their great-grandparents. I'm incredibly proud of my diverse heritage and I want my daughters to feel the same way.

Jessica Alba is something of a triple threat: She's managed to achieve major success as an actress, fashion designer, and business mogul. It's hard to imagine anyone not wanting to work with Alba, but early in her career she had a hard time getting roles because of her race.

"They couldn't figure out my ethnicity," Alba said. "I would always go out for 'exotic.' They were like, 'You're not Latin enough to play a Latina, and you're not Caucasian enough to play the leading lady, so you're going to be the "exotic" one.' Whatever that was."

Of course, Alba eventually ended up starring in hits like Fantastic Four, Into the Blue, and Good Luck Chuck. So, yeah, it's safe to say she proved those people wrong.

And not only is this actress leading by example; she's also taking steps to change the game herself. The creation of Alba's cosmetics line, Honest Beauty, which she founded as part of her brand, The Honest Company, in 2015, stemmed from her own struggles as a young girl trying to find a foundation that matched her unique complexion. "I didn't feel like, when I was younger, that there were a lot of things offered to women of color," she said.

So Alba went out and made her own. "The philosophy around starting this beauty line is about enhancing who you are instead of cover up and turn you into somebody else," she said.

Jessica Alba’s startup The Honest Company is a veritable success — approaching over $350 million in sales during a year in which many companies struggled — but venture capitalists turned up their noses to the idea at first.

In 2009, Alba had a real issue: She couldn’t find baby products for her newborn that were guaranteed to be safe and eco-friendly. After having an allergic reaction to one of the allegedly baby-safe detergents she bought, she developed her idea the same way many successful entrepreneurs get started: She pitched building the solution she herself wished was on the market.

Alba pitched serial entrepreneur Brian Lee on her idea, who reportedly passed after saying it wasn't “very promising.” The feeling that others don’t see potential in you or your business idea is a familiar frustration for budding entrepreneurs. At the time, Alba remarked that she felt nobody took her seriously as an entrepreneur, or even believed in her idea, even though she knew there would be demand. 

But just five years later, The Honest Company reached unicorn status, valued at over one billion dollars. What changed in those five years that let her take her failed pitch to becoming a success story?

To perfect your pitch, experiment

Fast forward to 2012. Alba is now in Washington, lobbying for an update to reform the 1976 Toxic Substances Control Act. Buoyed by her growing knowledge on the subject, she went back to Lee and pitched him again.

This time, her deck was much more concise, down to less than 30 minutes from start to finish. In a world where most entrepreneurs give up after a rejection or two, Alba instead had spent the years between their two meetings pitching her idea to friends, getting holes poked in her positioning,and answering each and every supply chain question that arose. 

Another change had happened over the last three years: Venture capitalists like Lee, whom she was pitching, had all started young families. Alba’s pitch was rock solid, and as an added bonus her prospective investors wanted the product themselves. 

Lee said yes to the second pitch. The first year The Honest Company was in business, it reported an astonishing $12 million in revenue, a number that has only increased each year. After facing initial rejection on her pitch, Alba’s decision to persevere has led The Honest Company to dramatic success.

At first, everyone told Alba she should start with one product, then expand once that was successful. But this didn’t gel with Alba’s vision of a complete line of baby-safe products; the founder knew parents who wanted clean products wanted a brand that could provide multiple solutions.

Ultimately, Alba ignored the conventional advice and launched with 17 products, which many people believed was too many. But because she didn’t compromise on that, either to venture capitalists or herself, the launch was a total success.

Sources: (×) (x) (x) (×)

[karimjohnson]

Lights Up: I’m Not Ever Going Back (Part 1)

Merry Christmas everyone! I have been so busy here lately. The holidays are always a busy time of the year. I love my family and I wanted to spend some quality time with them. I took a trip to see my friend of 17 years and we haven’t seen each other in person for 6 years. Then my parents had their birthdays. I had to work on top of all of that and work has been super busy. And now it’s Christmas?! Time has been flying and I apologize so much for slowly updating and writing. But lucky for you guys, I have two parts for you! I’m excited to post some more! Thank you for being patient and reading. My inbox is always open for suggestions! I love you guys and I hope you like it! Much love- K

Masterlist

Summary: While on vacation with Harry and his bandmates; there is a huge storm that causes a power outage. You hate storms because you get really bad anxiety. Harry finds you hiding in your room. He tells you that you can stay in his room with him. 

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Rated: PG (Fluff)

Part 2

________________________________________

I was currently on vacation with some of my closest friends. Harry had invited me on a trip with his bandmates to the Caribbean Island for some inspiration for his new album coming up. We were all in this big house with the beach close by. There was a pool and patio out back where they did most of their writing during the early mornings and in the afternoon. I had gone to town a few times to just look around and see the culture. We all had gone to the beach a few times because they didn’t want me to feel left out in anything. I honestly didn’t feel left out at all.

I have heard a little bit of the songs that they had been working on and it all sounded amazing. I just like to be surprised with Harry’s music, hence the reason why I just mind my business while they work. I was currently in the living room watching TV, just trying to relax while everyone was outside working. Out of nowhere, I hear a loud crack of thunder strike and see a huge light flash outside. I jumped looking towards the back glass sliding door to see everyone rushing inside. “What’s going on,” I asked while picking myself up off the couch and rushing over to Mitch and Harry. “There’s a huge storm starting,” Harry said looking down at me. I looked around the group to peek outside.

Sure enough, it was dark and gray outside. The clouds twisted in the sky as it started pouring down rain. I absolutely hated storms. I could never sleep when the thunder boomed. It always made me jump. The lightening was always so blinding and would light up the whole room. I sighed and looked back to Harry, “I’m sorry that the rain cut into your work.” He shrugged as they all sat there instruments down in the kitchen. “It’s okay, we could always work inside. We were about to take a break anyway for some snacks. Do you want to join,” he asked with a sweet dimpled smile. I smiled back to him and nodded, “Sure, I could use a snack.” He chuckled and turned into the big white kitchen.

Everyone got their choice of snacks and sat down talking in their own conversations. I was eating some fruit that Harry and I cut up. I listened to everyone talking trying to drown out the storm that was coming down heavy outside. “Well, should we get back to work,” Ny asked looking to everyone. “Yeah, Y/N did you want to listen,” Harry asking turning to me. I blushed and bit my bottom lip. “I rather be surprised H. You know that. I need a shower anyway. You all go ahead and take over the living room,” I smiled to him and started cleaning up my mess. They all cleaned up after themselves as I headed for the stairs.

I hated declining the offers to listen to the magic they were working so hard on. But this storm was not slowing down anytime soon, and I was getting anxious. There was something about storms that just get my anxiety boiling over. I was not going to make it through a song with all the thunder causing me to jump. I walked into my room I was staying in and got everything ready for a relaxing bath. I started the water and added some bubbles. This will work, right? I started undressing and added a new face mask I brought with me. I had my hair pulled up and my face mask on. I climbed into the warm bath and leaned back closing my eyes.

Everything seemed to be calm for once since the storm started. I could hear some guitars and harmonies coming from downstairs. I smiled to myself and just felt the peace settle in. After a little while, I decided to get out and throw on my pajamas. Plus, I needed to wash my face off. I wrapped the towel around me and walked to the sink. I took a washcloth and ran some water over it. I started washing off the mask. Once that was done, I decided to brush my teeth. As I leaned down to spit, the lights went out. I looked up and around the bathroom. Oh god, please tell me this is a joke. I walked over to the light switch and started flipping it. Nothing. Complete darkness.

I started to slightly freak out to myself. I hate the dark and I hate storms. I cannot stress that enough. I started getting dressed in the dark and walked to my bed trying not to fall. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and climbed underneath the covers. I pulled them over my head as my phone vibrated. It was a text from Harry. ‘Power is out. Not sure when it will be back on yet. Are you okay? -H.’ I sighed and closed my eyes as thunder cracked outside my window. I jumped feeling my heart rate go up. I was not getting any kind of sleep tonight. I sighed and made myself as comfortable as I could. I gently closed my eyes wishing for sleep to take over my anxious mind. Another rumble of thunder filled my empty room and lighting struck, igniting my whole room in a blinding white light.

My breathing started to pick up and I tried my best to control it. I rolled onto my back inhaling a deep breath trying to relax my body. I started to hear a few voices out in the hallway. I guess everyone is trying to find a light source for their music session. Then a small knock filled my now quiet room. I didn’t move right away because I thought I just imagined it. I heard the door creak open and I slowly pulled the blankets down from my head. I looked over into the dark room towards the door to see Harry’s silhouette posted against the doorframe. “Y/N, you okay? I forget how much you hate storms,” his raspy voice filled my ears, and I could feel myself starting to blush from embarrassment. “It’s not your fault. Honestly, I forget about it too,” I whispered as I played with the comforter on my bed.

“Are you going to be able to sleep tonight,” Harry asked as he shuffled towards the bed. I looked up at him and felt my face just fall flat. “Probably not,” I answered him and looked towards the window. The wind had picked up outside causing the tree branches to clash against my window. I cringed at the noise and tried to ignore it as best as I can. I could see Harry watching my expressions to decide on his next move. “Well, we all cleaned up the living room. We decided to call it night on the songwriting,” he sighed as he took a seat on my bed. I looked at him with a small smile. “Were you able to shower and relax some,” Harry asked nodding towards the bathroom. “Yeah, I felt somewhat relaxed. The power decided to shut off as I was brushing my teeth. So, I just got dressed and curled into bed,” I pouted slightly and shrugged up to him.

He chuckled and I could see him playing with his rings. “Well, do you want someone to stay up with,” Harry asked looking to me with dimpled smile. I rolled my eyes and laughed a little. “You don’t have to stay up with H. I appreciate it but you need your sleep,” I say nudging him with my foot a little. “So? I can still have a crazy sleep schedule if I choose to. We can go in my room if you want,” he said playfully nudging me back. “I could help distract you from the storm in some way,” he spoke up and I raised a brow at him. After a few more minutes, Harry finally persuaded me to go to his room with him.

We walked to his room and I walked to his bed. Harry had walked into his bathroom and started doing his nightly routine. I laid back on his bed and looked up to the ceiling. I could still hear the loud storm roaring outside the house. I sighed and sat up looking into the bathroom door. Harry was brushing his teeth indicating that he was about to come back out to the bedroom. I leaned back and just played with his comforter. I felt the bed sink down and I looked up to see a pair of green eyes watching me carefully. “You okay, love,” he asked tilting his head a bit. “Yeah, I was just waiting on you to come back out here. What are we going to do with no power,” I asked and bit down on my bottom lip. We weren’t able to turn on a movie or anything. “Well, we could talk until we fall asleep,” he shrugged as I looked up at him. There was something about the way the moonlight hit his face in the darkness. I slowly felt myself falling into some kind of trance watching him.

“I guess we could,” I whispered looking down at my hands. I felt him move around the bed and I looked to him. He was laying down with his arms open for me. I smiled and blushed at his actions. Harry and I have been close friends for a while. It’s not like it was weird to cuddle with your best friend or anything. Everyone does it, right? I crawled up and wrapped my right arm around his toned tattooed covered torso. I tucked my left arm into his side as I placed my head down on his chest. I took in his scent and my mouth began to water. I could feel his breathing. He seemed slightly nervous but mainly happy. His heart was beating a little faster against his chest than normal. I looked up to him as I started to play with his shirt.

“So, are you having a good time here? I know it kind of sucks when we all come together to write. I was worried about bringing you out here because I don’t want you to feel left out,” Harry spoke to me softly. I could feel his fingers twirl my hair around and tickle my scalp. I smiled to myself and thought about how our week has been going. “I don’t feel left out at all. I just like to be surprised to hear your new stuff the day you release it. I think we all have had fun here. You guys have been so great to me. You made sure to do stuff with me before you all have your music sessions at night. I really am having a great and relaxing time here H,” I whispered looking up to meet his gaze. He was watching me with a big grin on his face.

“What,” I asked looking at him as I started to worry that I said something wrong. “Nothing,” he chuckled and poked my cheek. “Harry, seriously what is it,” I asked sitting up to balance myself to look at him better. “It’s not bad,” he smiled tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. “You are just cute,” he winked at me and I felt warmth running to the apples of my cheeks at his compliment. “Harry don’t be so lame,” I scoffed and hit him playfully with a pillow. He started laughing and grabbed his self a pillow. We both moved to sit on our knees while we got more into our pillow fight. Our breathless laughs filled the room. I kept going even though I was losing my breath the harder I went.

    A roaring clash of thunder and lighting struck, my body tensed up and I immediately curled up into a ball squeezing the pillow in my embrace. I shut my eyes tightly trying to make the moment pass. I could feel Harry hovering over my small frame. He wrapped one arm around my waist to pull me closer to him. His other hand gently caressing my cheek. “Shh, it’s okay Y/N,” he whispered to me while running the pad of his thumb along my cheek. I took a deep breath and nuzzled myself into his touch. His presence was helping my nerves feel at ease. “You can open your eyes love, it’s just me,” he spoke softly to me. I slowly let my eyes flutter open and I was met with those green ivy eyes. I let out my breath and sighed as the relief finally hit me.

Harry smiled down at me causing me to smile back up at him. “Feel better,” he asked softly. I couldn’t help but get chills as his breath ran across my face. “A little bit yes,” I nod and realize that he has me semi-pinned to the bed. Harry is beautiful. He wasn’t making me uncomfortable at all. I had just never been this close to him. Sure, anyone who meets Harry is head over heels for him. He was everything. And to think, me crushing on my best friend, how cliché. I took in all his features as the moonlight caught them in all the right ways. I could see Harry watching the expressions and gears turning in my head. He inched his face a tab bit closer to mine. Our lips brushed against each other causing me to gasp at the feeling.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

The Road Ahead | Adam Milligan x Reader

Words: 2279

Warning: None, except some typos and Adam not being in this one as much.

A/N: How does writing work again? What do you mean I have to type it out? I’m thinking of a series name for this to organize these continuous oneshots. No promises of regular updates. It’s only when I can.

Continuation of [True Winchester Fashion] and [Night at the Museum].

-

The museum director hummed softly to herself as her heels echoed through the empty halls of the building. The exhibit was coming along nicely and her contact had come through and found an actual grimoire. Finally, her years of searching were finally over. If only she had brushed up on her Latin, then she would have had no problem translating it herself. Her senior curator had fallen sick after a week of trying to translate the ancient book, which left the college student rookie to translate. She had kept an eye on you for some time now. She had seen the potential in you, the potential of witchcraft. It takes practice and intelligence to master it and she had only wished the matrilineal side of her family had kept on the tradition of passing down the defunct coven’s knowledge. No matter. Blood of the coven is thicker than water of the womb, as they say. You make your own family.

With each passing week of you translating the grimoire, more incidents had been occurring around town. She wanted to approach you about it, to help you control the power of the book, but it would mean revealing her intentions too soon. She had watched you run in fear when the growing number of creatures had reached the museum. Then, those damn FBI agents had to get involved. They stopped by the museum after you had reported the bodies of the security guards that night and she had to pretend to be a clueless director that had limited knowledge about the objects in the museum and the history they hold.

It would be a matter of time before the grimoire gets out of control.

Exiting the museum, she felt a cold presence behind her. She spun around and saw a woman with the reddest hair, palest skin, and radiating the most powerful energy she had ever felt. The woman’s red lips split into a smile, a chill running down the director’s back telling her that it wasn’t a friendly one.

“Who are you?” she asked, taking a step back.

“Oh, dear. Oh, sweet dearie. You dare mess with magic and not know who I am?” The woman chuckled, taking a step forward. “I’m Rowena, the most powerful witch that ever graced this horrible planet and… the current Queen of Hell.”

“Queen of Hell. You must be joking.”

Rowena stared her down and the director suddenly felt her knees giving out. “I have been told that I have a grim sense of humor, but I do not joke about this. And you, missy, must think that witchcraft is a joke. What was it? Some kind of soul searching, finding out who you are from your family tree? Think you could feel close to them if you get a fancy old book and a cauldron?” she said mockingly. “What’s your name, sweetheart.”

“Joana Faith,” she gasped as the weight on her shoulders lifted.

Rowena hummed. “You. You need to fix this mess. As much as I love chaos, I love organized chaos and I’m not going to let some amature run around with a powerful grimoire like she’s in Harry Potter. You watch yourself, because I will also be watching you, Joana Faith.”

“Alright, alright.” Joana slowly picked herself off the ground. “And what about those FBI agents that have been snooping around? How is all of this going to be explained?”

Rowena rolled her eyes, a mix of irritable fondness in one gesture. “Those boys. They probably already know by now. As long as you set things right, you don’t have to worry about them. You do know how to stabilize that grimoire, right?”

“Well…”

Rowena rolled her eyes again.

-

Adam felt Michael’s presence in the back of his mind, asking to take over. “I can help,” the archangel said. Adam nodded, taking a step back and allowing Michael to take control.

“I don’t know what to do,” you moaned, clutching your head between your hands as eerie figures began to crowd around the windows of your apartment.

Your eyes landed on the grimoire, the leathery surface and crispy pages drawing you in like a magnet. Heat radiated off of the old padlock as your hand drifted closer. There were ancient powers in that book, power to change things, to manipulate them, and to end things. And the grimoire chose you.

You could hear Adam’s voice, but it sounded like you were under water. You couldn’t catch what it was, but you felt your heart pick up in panic. This wasn’t right. This was something that you don’t know about… but maybe you can learn to.

Firm hands gripped your shoulders as you were yanked away from the grimoire. Adam’s hazel eyes were looking down at you, but it didn’t feel like Adam. You still couldn’t understand what he was saying. He frowned, pressing two fingers onto your forehead. Heat spread through your head, brightness filling your vision as if you were pulled out of the ocean.

“Sam and Dean will be coming to deal with the monsters outside, but I need you to focus.” He paused, watching as your eyes still drifted down to the grimoire. “That thing doesn’t call to just anyone, you know.”

As you calmed yourself, so did the noises outside, the dark shadows disappearing from view. Your eyes snapped back to him. “What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear, that you have a gift and a curse,” came a Scottish woman’s voice.

You spun a head around and saw a red haired woman and Joana who looked haggard. The red haired woman rolled her eyes at her.

“Oh, please, you want to be a witch and you can’t even handle teleportation,” she chided. She looked over at you and Adam and smiled. “Hello, Michael. Fancy seeing you here. Playing college student, I see.”

“Rowena,” ‘Adam’ said with a curt nod, “You’re here for the book.”

“Of course I am. Even if the Winchesters deal with those monsters outside, there’ll be more coming if we don’t get that book under control. You,” Rowena sauntered over to you, “How much of the book you’ve read already?”

“Almost all of it,” you said sheepishly.

She hummed, looking almost impressed. A grimoire would be difficult for a beginner, but for someone who had no experience to make it that far into the book is a feat in itself. Maybe you’d be useful to her in the future, or maybe become a potential apprentice.

“Well, you two are glad that I’m here. Listen up, I’m about to give you a Witchcraft crash course and I expect you to pay attention. You wouldn’t want me to visit you when I’m upset. Michael, help those boys outside while I sort this out, would you?”

Adam stood up and gave her a look of warning. “Make sure (Y/n) is safe-”

“Or else what, dearie?” she smirked. There wasn’t much use arguing with the Queen of Hell, especially if it was Rowena Macleod.

He glowered before turning to you. “It’s going to be okay,” he assured you.

You watched him disappear with a small gust, strands of your hair flying out of your face and loose paper flying off the table. “What do you mean by Michael?” you asked Rowena.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Your boyfriend Adam is the vessel of the archangel Michael,” she said nonchalantly, “but we’ll unpack that later. We’ve got work to do.”

-

There was an energy that coursed through your veins that you never knew was possible. It was invigorating, like you could fly or punch through a wall. Rowena warned you about becoming too power hungry.

“Ambition is good, but too much can kill you,” she said, then added with a smirk, “Unless you find a way to cheat death, I suggest you know your limits first.”

After the incident with the grimoire, everything seemed to go back to normal. Your friend, who the Winchesters had saved from the vampire den also had no recollection, convinced that she was drugged and kidnapped while your other friend was not so lucky in getting out. The two of you mourned all the same, but only you knew how she really died. No one in town even remembered what happened with the disappearances and the killings, except for you and Joana. You now see her in a different light, knowing what her main goal was in creating the Salem witch exhibit. Her talk with Rowena seemed to humble her and she regarded you with a little more respect than she used to. The exhibit was still ongoing, but this time, no dangerous objects for display. No, that grimoire stayed with you after Rowena helped the two of you contain it. It was now imprinted with you and under your care. You didn’t know where to start.

Adam had disappeared that night and no one remembered him, either. It was as if he had vanished along with everything that was unnatural, like some weird fever dream. Rowena had said that he was a vessel to an angel, the archangel Michael of all things. In any other circumstances, you would have had a hard time believing it, but with the grimoire and the monsters and witches that came with it, it was just another piece to the universal puzzle found. Now you know the truth. The things in stories like the werewolves, the vampires, the witches, and even angels and demons, were all real, and there were people that dealt with them within the shadows. They come and go and only a few even notice them. They save lives without any recognition or reward. Hunters, they were called. The Winchesters.

After graduating college, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do. There was the museum library, but it was no longer what you wanted to do. Now that you have discovered witchcraft, you wanted to know what you could do. Maybe you could help people, too, like Adam and his brothers.

You cleared up your desk at the museum as you snacked on the brownies that a senior curator had brought in for your last day. They were sad to see you go, but you told them that you had applied to a museum in the city and wanted to see where you went from there.

“You are always welcomed back here,” one of them said as they hugged you.

Your last stop was the cemetery where your friend had already left flowers. She didn’t talk to you all that much, saying she needed more time with her family and had sought professional help to cope with your mutual loss. Maybe it was for the best. You still blamed yourself for your mutual friend’s death after all.

You turned to leave and was immediately faced with Joana. She had dropped her perky and enthusiastic mask that she had kept up around others and offered a sympathetic smile instead.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” she said, “I didn’t realize that an old leathery book would cause this much trouble. I’m sorry.” She looked around, eyes squinting as the summer sun beamed down on the two of you. “I heard you were leaving town. Good for you. I… there’s another thing I should apologize for.”

It was then you realized that she had a small book tucked under her arm. She pulled it out and handed it over to you. It was worn from constant use, scribbles and rough sketches on every page. Flipping through them, words like wendigo, werewolves, and revenant, stood out.

“It had been left on your desk that night when… the whole thing with the grimoire had been put to rest. I got curious and… I might have borrowed it. I realized it must have been left by those hunters that had helped us,” Joana explained.

“Possibly by Adam,” you muttered, closing the journal.

“Adam. Rowena said that he was a vessel of an angel. Is that true? Did you know?”

You shook your head. “Not sure how much from the Queen of Hell is true but I wouldn’t be too surprised anymore if it was. There is a lot out there that people don’t know about. What about you? What are you going to do now?”

She shrugged. “I could dabble here and there. I think I want to use it to protect this town, though. After everything that happened, I realized the impact of one thing could have on a whole community, especially when it involves things that people don’t believe existed. If those hunters hadn’t come here, hell, even if Adam hadn’t decided to go to school here, who knows what would have happened.”

“Yeah. Makes you think about those that weren’t so lucky. I’m going to try to learn more about this… this whole business with supernatural things. If I have a gift, I should use it, right?”

Joana nodded before stepping back. “Well, good luck. Come back whenever and tell me about what you’ve found. I’m curious, but I don’t think I’m cut out for venturing.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

As you walked towards your car, there was the bittersweet ache in your chest. You had never lived away from home before, the town was practically all you knew. Yet, there was something inside of you that felt that you had the potential to do more and be more than what you were now, and it wasn’t going to change unless you stepped away into something new.

The road ahead was dangerous, but it was better than staying in one spot forever. Maybe one day, you would even run into Adam again.

[2460nodone]

Trophies

Title: Trophies Category: Plays/Musicals » Les Misérables Author: AliceInSomewhereland Language: English, Rating: Rated: T Genre: Drama/Romance Published: 05-19-13, Updated: 05-19-13 Chapters: 1, Words: 3,671

Summary: They meet on their respective fields - his, baseball, and hers, soccer - and it changes everything. Enjonine modern AU for the Fic War on tumblr! Oneshot, rated T for language.

originally written for the e/e fic war and posted to ffnet. prompted with “soccer AU, baseball AU” by tumblr user samthenardier.

Chapter 1/1

He's not quite sure when he first noticed her.

Perhaps it was the weekend Courfeyrac hit the ball out of their diamond, and, as he played in the outfield, she reached him first to return it. He hardly paid her any mind, only nodding in thanks. She was clearly just as busy as he, covered in dirt and soaked with sweat, her shin guards smeared with grass stains.

Perhaps it was the weekend that it rained. Bahorel and Grantaire, playing on his team that weekend, were highly distracted when the women with whom she was playing declared their match to be shirts versus skins. She seemed to be the chief in insisting that it be the girls who played as skins, against the shirted boys.

The boys on his baseball team couldn't help but stare as the girls stripped, their shorts rolled low on their hips and clinging to their thighs in the rain, their tops bare, save for their soaked-through sports bras.

He noticed that she and her friends were frequently shooting glances in the direction of the baseball diamond, delighting and giggling when his teammates and opponents fawned over them.

Perhaps he noticed her the weekend that it was so hot they almost had to cancel – she, again, was shirtless, but this time her sports bra was soaked with sweat. They watched as she poured cold water over her face and head and shoulders – his teammates with hunger and desire, he with disinterest.

Perhaps it was the weekend he saw her running to their diamond, soccer ball under her arm and her hand entwined with another girl's, one with dusky skin and dark hair. They sat in the bleachers, watching and cheering and laughing. It was quite distracting. Afterwards, he watched as she made a beeline to Marius, just as Joly and Bossuet appeared to be racing to talk to her friend first.

He paid her little to no mind, though he did notice when she wasn't there sometimes, especially because his baseball team (and often their visiting competition) and the eternal pick-up soccer game that she participated in often went out for drinks together after their respective games were over. It seemed oddly quiet when she wasn't there, rare though that was, but it also irritated him when she was there, because she spent the whole damn time mooning over Marius and trying to get that freckled fool to pay attention to her.

He never bothered to interact with her; in fact, he didn't even know her name. Nor did he try to learn it. Whenever she came into his peripherals, he merely acknowledged her mentally as "Marius' Shadow."

However, everything changed when he was leaving the park one day, and came across her corned up against a tree, an older man who must have been her father screaming in her face as she cowed. When the man hit her across the face, he lost it.

He dropped his things, and suddenly he was next to her, then in between her and the man, then shoving the man away and shouting things that he didn't remember later. They tousled briefly, resulting in a bloody nose on his face and a black eye on the old man. The man stormed away, screaming and cursing at them.

When he turned, he didn't even have time to react before she slapped him sharply across the face. It left him momentarily dumb; he wasn't sure whether to pinch his nose to stop the bleeding or hold his smarting cheek. Then she was shouting at him.

"I don't want your help! I'm not some sort of damsel in distress that needs rescuing from some bourgeois knight in shining armor!" She shoved him, though it was hardly strong.

Her lip was bleeding and was starting to swell from where the man hit her.

Ten minutes later, he was in the dugout, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Hey," a voice said behind him, startling him. He turned, and there she was – fat lip, messy dark hair, long, thin legs and a torso hidden by an oversized jersey. She held a plastic bag in her hand.

He just sniffed blood, trying to keep it from running down his face more, and stared at her. He was hardly forgiving; if she resented his interference, he wouldn't interfere. He had a bloody nose and probably a black eye (try explaining that one at work tomorrow), all because he was trying to help her. So as far as he was concerned, they had no reason, especially now, to interact at all. He wanted nothing from her.

"Sit down," she ordered. Her tone surprised him; it reminded him of how his mother or his teachers would talk to him as a child. He wondered where she picked it up. Then he sat.

She put the bag on the bench beside him, digging around inside. From it, she pulled gauze, an ice pack, hydrogen peroxide, and band-aids. Without a word, she began mopping up the blood on his face.

"I'm sorry I slapped you," she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the blood that was still gushing from his nose.

He shrugged.

"It was my dad. It wasn't the first time," she told him quietly. He wondered why she was telling him this; from the look on her face, she was wondering the same thing. Then, "I'm Eponine. Eponine Jondrette."

He regarded her for a moment, and she finally met his eyes. They were a beautiful, bright brown, flecked with gold, but were dark and angry from the memories that were undoubtedly cycling through her mind. He looked at her lips; dried blood had trickled onto her chin, though she hadn't seemed to notice.

"Enjolras," he said. "Gabriel Enjolras."

Eponine's lips twitched into a small smile, then she got back to work on cleaning him up.

When she was finished, she threw the first aid supplies into her backpack. "I'll buy you a beer," she offered, "as a thanks – and an apology."

*

He's not quite sure why he kissed her.

It was several months after the day he fought her father.

They were heading off to the park together. His league's season was over, but he and his friends still met each weekend for pickup games. She had wormed her way into his friend group, and they had invited her along, eager to teach her how to play baseball. In return, she was going to teach them a little bit about soccer.

She met him on the corner near his apartment – it was more convenient for her to cut through his neighborhood to reach the park, as she lived a few blocks away.

"We need to run to my place," she said when he found her, not bothering to greet him. "I would've gone alone, but my phone was dead and I didn't want you to think I was ditching you.

Though they lived relatively close together, there was a marked difference between his neighborhood and hers. His was more affluent – he was a lawyer, the only son in a wealthy family, and therefore, his apartment was large and well decorated and safe.

Eponine's apartment, however, was one room of a giant, sketchy-looking complex. She joked that this was where the meth-heads came to die.

He worried for her safety.

Inside, however, she had done her best to make the place comfortable. It was colorful, but tasteful – very bohemian, but it worked because it was so Eponine.

She had hung curtains to separate her small bed from the rest of the room, and disappeared behind them for a few moments.

When she reemerged, she beckoned him over. "Enj, these are my soccer trophies from high school. I was being scouted for college, being offered scholarships and even full rides, but then I blew out my knee."

He hadn't known. He knew she was good, but not that she could have started in college. Nor did he know that her knee had ruined her opportunity to get out of – well, out of this life. It broke his heart; she could have truly been something quite incredible. She was smart, she was driven and talented, but lacking the resources to rise out of the life she so despised. To have come so close, only to have an ill-timed physical issue rip her chances away – he couldn't even imagine.

"That sucks, Ep, I'm so sorry," he told her sincerely.

She smiled warmly, though he could see a touch of bitterness in her eyes. "Whatever," she shrugged, "I have all these crazy trophies for my trouble!"

And she did. There must have been more than 30 of all colors and sizes, from participation awards to tournament placements to MVP's.

"My collection would totally kick your collection's ass," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "I was given a partial scholarship to play in college. I wanted to go pro. I didn't have time for anything else, not even girls. My entire life revolved around baseball and school."

She looked at him. "What happened?"

He stared straight ahead at a trophy she had won her sophomore year of high school for most valuable player. "My priorities changed," was all he said. He could hear the hardness in his own voice; out of the corner of his eye, he saw her searching for something on his face before she turned back towards the trophies. He cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said, reaching out and touching a medal, "all my trophies are at my parents' house."

"I like having mine home with me," was Eponine's soft reply.

He looked at her. There was a faraway look on her face, an absent smile on her lips. "They help me remember a time when I was happy." She seemed to be talking to herself now, and he wondered if she remembered he was there.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, all of a sudden, and he felt something building inside of him that was foreign and, if he had to admit it, a little frightening.

When she turned to him, a questioning look on her face and an inquiry forming on her lips, he kissed her, swallowing whatever it was she was about to say. She responded immediately against him, and he pulled her body flush against his instinctually when her lips parted against his.

*

He's not quite sure why he slept with her.

He had never been with a woman before.

And she was vulnerable; he couldn't shake the feeling that he had taken advantage of her.

Marius and his girlfriend, the perfect, blonde Cosette, had gotten engaged.

Eponine had showed up at his door, in tears and completely inconsolable. So he ordered pizza, and ran to the liquor store around the corner for a bottle of Jack.

Three hours later, she was straddling him on his couch and kissing him wildly, half the bottle abandoned on the table behind her.

The whole experience, as intoxicating and wonderful as it was, was like being with a hurricane. It was wet and strong and dangerous, but he loved every second of it.

When he woke the next morning, she was in his kitchen, dressed in one of his t-shirts, making breakfast.

She kissed him good morning.

*

He's not quite sure when he fell in love with her.

They were out all night.

It was a warm night, in the middle of spring, a summery breeze sweeping through her hair and toying with the hem of her dress as she skipped around him.

Eponine didn't want to go home, and had talked him into staying out with her all night and going down to the docks to watch the sunrise.

"I've never seen the city when it sleeps," she had said.

They weren't together, per se, but Marius was married and Eponine was putting him behind her and now whenever she saw Enjolras she kissed him. He didn't hate it.

They had sat on the docks, swinging their bare feet inches above the water.

She grabbed his hand, humming a song into the wind. She was being strange; it was that mix of happiness and sadness that he'd learned to associate with her. Like she's almost ready to be happy, almost ready to let go of her problems, but she just can't.

She took his hand as the pre-dawn sky turns purple.

She kissed his cheek and then his lips when it turns pink.

When it turned orange, its bright glow lights up her face.

When the sun broke free of the water, she laughed. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

And that was when he knew: he'd fallen for her.

*

He's not quite sure why she wouldn't let him save her.

Eponine was stubborn, and always refused his help. He frequently reminded her that it was his job to help people, that it was his calling, but she would just snap at him that "a calling is a thing for entitled bourgeois boys," and that those he was "called" to help did not always want it.

When her little brother died, hit by a car in the middle of the night, he was not sure she'd ever come back to him.

She pushed him away. Stopped seeing him, stopped meeting him for baseball or soccer, stopped coming to his games and stopped showing up to her own. She wouldn't even answer her calls. Nor would she talk to any of her other friends.

Musichetta, her soccer friend, and Joly were dating, and even Musichetta had not heard from her in weeks.

When he finally saw her again, her face was gaunt. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, and hadn't eaten in weeks. Her already thin frame clung to her bones, her cheeks were sunken in, her hair was dirty and unkempt, and her hollow eyes had dark circles.

He didn't know how to save her, but for god's sake he tried.

*

He's not quite sure why she left him.

It isn't fair – that's the only thought that's cycling through his mind right now.

He's been sitting in this chair for, well, he doesn't even know how long. His friends keep coming to check on him, but he barely hears them. They can't say anything helpful anyway. They don't know.

All he can think of is her, of those precious moments by her side, as he stares straight ahead.

Directly in front of him is her casket. And he can't take his eyes off it, off her lifeless body laying there for those attending the wake to gawk and cry over.

He can't cry, he can't eat, he can't feel. He briefly wonders if this was how it was for her when little Gavroche was killed, and if that was the straw that broke the camel's back in her life.

He wonders, much more extensively, why he couldn't save her. He was always reminding her that saving people was all he wanted to do. He just wanted to help.

Why hadn't he been able to help her?

It was a sunny afternoon. They were sitting on the stairs of her fire escape. She was under his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not everyone wants to be saved, Enj," she told him. "Not everyone will let you."

"As long as you let me save you, that's fine," he replied.

She said nothing for a long while. "It might be too late for that," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

And it was. It was far too late.

She was gone.

The only woman he had ever loved, ever cared for, ever had time for, was dead.

This was a woman who had opened up an entire new world for him, and he would never see her again.

He's not sure what comes next; now that he's lived in this world of hers, he isn't sure if he can live without her.

When he's angry at her, angrier than he's ever been before, he curses her name, screaming at her ghost for leaving him behind, for ruining his life.

He hates her; she destroyed everything about him, everything he was, and left this empty shell behind. He was fine before - he didn't know what he was missing, and ignorance truly was bliss. He was settled in his life. But then she appeared in it, and turned it upside-down.

He tries to breathe.

Azlema, her younger sister, walks up to him.

She wraps herself around him, and he lets her, squeezing her tightly. She, of course, knew Eponine too (in a way that his friends didn't), and just as he lost the love of his life, she lost her older sister - and her baby brother. So she understands.

"She loved you, Enjolras," Azelma murmurs, her voice shaking with emotion and thick with the tears that spill from her eyes. "I know she never told you, but she told me. She loved you, and she would've wanted you to know."

He cries.

*

He's not quite sure how he picks up the pieces.

It's been forever, but it's also been no time at all.

His nights are cold and lonely, and his days are torture.

Grantaire has moved in with him, though perhaps that wasn't the best decision on the part of his friends, as the other man is so full of anger and sadness himself that all they do is spend their time drinking.

Combeferre seems to catch on, because then he comes to stay, too.

Suddenly, he's forced to eat the food Combeferre has cooked. He's forced to look at Grantaire's artwork and give his opinions, he's forced to go to work and do a good job again.

He's forced to look at her photographs every day (but that one he does to himself), too. In them, she seems happy. She's bright and beautiful and alive. God, she used to be so alive, even when she was miserable, even when she was depressed. She could be in the worst mood, but being around her was like being in the middle of a beautiful storm.

He misses that.

Eventually, Courfeyrac convinces him to come play a pickup game.

It feels good, being back on the diamond. The power of the ball as it flies from his hand, the feel of the wind in his face as he runs from plate to plate. He especially likes being at bat, because smacking that fucking ball into oblivion is suddenly the most therapeutic thing.

And then the game is over and his friends leave and he's slamming his stupid bat into the ground, raging in the middle of the field, screaming at her at the top of his lungs and undoubtedly causing quite the scene.

He collapses, and then someone is there – Jehan, perhaps? – speaking to him, trying to calm him.

But what does it is Eponine.

No, she's not there, of course, but he sees her team playing soccer on the next field. Or maybe it's a different team, he isn't sure if her friends play here anymore.

He looks up into the overcast sky, closing his eyes to the clouds, and can almost hear her laughter carried to him on the wind.

He goes home, pulls out the trophies he took from her apartment and those he took from his parents' house. He places them in pairs around the apartment, wherever they fit - his next to hers and hers next to his wherever he can find the room for them.

"They help me remember a time when I was happy," she had said that first time he kissed her.

And she was right.

There they were, once again – playing baseball, playing soccer together, just like when they had become friends. This time, however, their endless games were in his apartment. But looking at their trophies together was, for some stupid reason, extremely comforting. It made him feel like she was there, in these dumb objects she had been so proud of.

He sees her in them. They make him think of her. And he misses her, he does, but she would want him to be okay.

She would want him to keep on playing, because she wasn't able to.

And that's exactly what he's going to do.

Fin.

[kiki-is-writing]

the beginning and end of everything UPDATE!!!

DISCLAIMER: This is my original work. I choose to share my work here and here specifically for my comrades in the writing community. Plagiarism in any form will not be tolerated. 

HI EVERYONE! I FINISHED MY NOVEL! Whooo hoooo!!!

It’s actually sort of surreal, I started it in June of 2020 and now it’s 2021 and it’s over! Ty, Jude, Ada, Dorothy, and Madison have been living in my head since October 2019, and less than a year and a half later, they’ve been brought to life! Crazy!!

A summary in case you forgot/are seeing this and don’t know who the hell I am:

Ty Kassisieh has no direction. He’s just graduated college with a degree he doesn’t care about and no clue what to do with his life. Per his parent’s request to be more like his genius twin sister Ada, he picks up a job at a local library to save some money. There, he meets his coworker Jude, who’s stuck in a position not too far from his own, and Ty immediately sees the potential for companionship. But after speaking to him, Ty discovers Jude is everything he isn’t: he’s cold, introverted, aloof, and worst of all, humorless. Soon, Ty forgets all about his initial goal and becomes determined to crack Jude and see what makes him tick. 

Ty’s journey of self-discovery is uprooted completely as what begins as an investigation blossoms into a friendship, and then into something more. Ty is forced to confront the feelings he’s been pushing down since high school and come to terms with himself, his family, and the relationships he thought would never change. It’s only when he befriends a young library patron, Madison, that he finally begins to see the world for what it is and figures out how to pave his own path.

Here are some stats!

Word count: 65,900 (it’ll get at least 20k words longer)

Genre: Romantic comedy

POV: third person limited, present tense

Characters: Ty, Jude, Ada, Madison, Dorothy, Diane, Omar, Paul, Uncle Hubie, Ethel

Chapters: 15

Font: Times New Roman (sorry)

This was my second novel, but the first novel where I actually knew what I was doing, at least a little bit. And holy shit, I learned SO much about my writing process:

1. I cannot pants for the life of me. I have no idea what I’m doing without an outline. But sometimes, the outline doesn’t know best. I added a ton of subplots and off-the-cuff scenes halfway through that have no set up, gave up on subplots that weren’t working halfway through, it’s a disaster of a plot. BUt the important thing is that I know how to make it perfect. I know what the story needs and how to get that.

2. Why can I only write in bursts? I wrote like seven chapters, half the novel, in the month of July. There was a day where I wrote almost 5,000 words. And last night, I wrote for 6 hours straight, without eating, drinking, or going to the bathroom (because frankly, I forgot those things existed) and I cranked out a chapter and a half in a DAY. I had such a headache and was very hungry by the end, but it was SO REWARDING. 

3. I noticed while drafting is how often bits of my real life bled through. Little anecdotes, arguments, dynamics and experiences. Those who know me particularly well can probably pick out little allusions to either some of my past works, my friends, and myself.

It was 1:00 AM when I finished, and I live on the east coast of the U.S. so we’d just had a huge Nor’easter (New England for blizzard) and I went outside in the middle of the night, in my pajama pants and my uggs, and stood in my backyard and looked at the trees and processed the fact that wow, I just wrote a novel. It was cathartic and beautiful and I 110% recommend standing in snow up to your knees by yourself in the middle of the night. Very peaceful. 

As exciting as it is to be done, it’s kind of weird to be ending it. I started this novel from Ty’s first person POV, and he was just kind of another goofy, dorky character that shared my own sense of humor as well as my sense of perfectionism. But as I wrote, not only did I realize that third person worked so much better, but I started realizing how much of me and my own journey as a queer person had gone into this. It turned from a light-hearted, silly rom-com with little depth, a fun summer project to keep myself busy, to the most self expressive story I’ve ever written. I didn’t expect it to come out with much deeper meaning, it was summer and I was on a light-hearted rom-com kick, and life was carefree and silly and I wanted a book that reflected it. And then, school started, and life just descended into absolute chaos, and it was November, and it was NaNoWriMo, and I was writing my novel while watching CNN for a week straight. (But it all turned out great! New president!)

I can’t remember exactly when I started to incorporate my own struggles growing up as a queer kid, but somehow they bled through in the second half. The last scene of the book is (no spoilers) an incredible breath of fresh air for Ty. It’s something I can only wish for every queer teenager, that moment where you can finally be unapologetically and authentically queer without that nagging worry in the back of your mind. I’ve struggled over this past year with my identity, and as Ty found his place, I found mine as well. 

Seriously, writing this book was one of the best experiences I’ve had. Yes, the entire time I had a separate document open, writing down every little thing that needs to change, but I legitimately feel excited for draft 2 and continuing working on this project. I think about how much this book helped me, unconsciously creating the story that I needed to hear, and how maybe, in ten, fifteen years, some queer teenager will be wandering around a bookstore and pick up The Beginning and End of Everything. Maybe just because the cover is pretty. Maybe they like the F. Scott Fitzgerald reference in the title. Maybe they heard about it on Twitter somewhere. But they pick it up, and see themselves in Ty, or in Jude, or in Madison. I know every book that gave me that feeling, I cherish them so deeply, and all I really want is for someone to get that feeling from something I wrote. To see themselves in the pages and know they’re not alone. It’s cheesy, but it’s true, and it’s important. 

I think one of my favorite themes in the novel is the whole ‘someone’s got your back’ thing. I 100% did not mean for it to go in the way it did, but I was writing this as I was going through some Stuff, some stuff in which I realized that having someone, just one person in your corner can mean the entire world, if only for that moment. And if there’s no one in your corner when you need it, you can be in someone else’s when they need it. Frankly, I love how it plays out throughout the novel. There was always that theme of Ty and Madison sort of being there for each other, but as I found myself in the first semester of the school year building new friendships with incredible, smart, funny people (albeit most of that being online) and strengthening old bonds, it worked its way in, and it fits perfectly. It adds depth and strength to the story I couldn’t have done consciously. 

Essentially, it is still the romantic comedy I intended it to be, but it’s also a coming-of-age (except much older than the traditional coming-of-age). Watching some of my close friends and family graduating college and continuing to struggle with their identities and places in the world I think is what truly carved out this idea. Because not everyone has everything figured out as soon as they graduate, and I feel like, as a teenager, that’s something my friends and I really need to get through our heads. A lot of us expect to have everything figured out as soon as we turn 18. But, we’re 18. There’s a lot of life ahead of us, and we can’t possibly know what we’re going to do so young. So I think that was my main source of inspiration for this novel, and I’m really proud of the way that fleshed out. Of course it needs lots and lots of work, but. I like it. The way my personal life bled through and strengthened the story is incredible to reflect on. Honestly, I really, truly, cannot wait to start working on draft 2.

taglist:

@alicewestwater @august-iswriting @lottieiswriting @phiwrites @jennawritesstories @chloeswords

[jack-is-lost]

PATCHES & PINS (CH 1)

A/N: This story revolves around a transgender, female to male, original character. LGBTQ+ topics are a given within this story. Gender and body dysphoria will come up as well since he is not out to his family — only close friends. If you dislike such a story premise please understand you do not have to interact with it at all. Leaving hate comments will be removed. Of course, constructive feedback is always welcomed.  

Pairing: Eventually Marko x OTMC

Story is still in progress and updates will be slow

Eventually it will be posted on A03 once I’m a few chapters in

Currently on Chapter one | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 coming soon

Chapter one

My life, for the most part, has always been unusual — a little different. Despite having parents that looked like any successful mom and dad ought to, and an older brother willing to stick up for me, things just didn't go according to plan. 

You see, my mother was excited to have a daughter finally. Someone to doll up and buy dresses for, maybe even enroll in a dance class. A stark difference to her firstborn, Tyler, who was all about karate lessons and throwing the ball with dad. Which eventually evolved to working on cars as he grew older. Our mother wanted somebody to share girly interests with, understandably. And, for a while, she was able to have it. The baby pictures are proof of that. Yet, as I grew older and became more aware of what I liked, the fewer things seemed cookie-cutter-perfect for my family.

"Are you not taking your bag to school, Jacklynn?" The mentioned item was nowhere in sight as the youngest of her children poured coffee — the action resembling someone needing every drop left in the pot as if to survive.

"It's the last day," came the grumbling response after a long, soothing sip. "I doubt most kids will even be showing up."

"Yeah, about that," Tyler, the oldest, spoke around a bite of toast. "Can't I be a minority and just stay home?"

"No, you only have one day left, guys." She smiled at her two kids. A graduate who had already filled out college applications, and is ready to further his engineering career. The other, soon-to-be senior, that seemed to have no real drive in anything but drawing and reading — and staying up too late apparently.

"Seriously," she spoke up again as they sighed in unison, deflating with their last hope crushed. "You two will survive."

Tyler nudged his sister, who leaned across the counter, jostling the coffee dangerously enough to receive a seething glare. "Want me to take you?"

It wasn't like Tyler to offer that too often, "Sure."

They both pulled away from the kitchen and made their way to the door, hollering goodbyes as Tyler grabbed the keys — the other sibling still nursing the coffee.

"Don't stay out too late!" Their mom called back, knowing full well she wouldn't see her kids after school. It seemed the closer summer drew in — the fewer tests to study for and homework to do, the more they came home later.

Tyler stepped into the car, unlocking the passenger door as he slid inside his cherry baby — A beaming red, 1983 Audi Sport Quattro, followed by his sister plopping down less elegantly. He glanced at her while starting the car.

"Talk to me, Jay." It was the last day, after all. Weren't kids supposed to be excited about that? "What's bouncing 'round that head of yours." He barely received any notion his sister was listening till she drew out a long sigh, head hitting the back of the seat.

"I don't know, man." It was drawn out, tired. "Didn't get much sleep, I guess."

Tyler nodded while giving the steering wheel a turn, making his way down the road. The school building wasn't very far when on wheels, and he pulled into a parking lot marginally less filled than it ought to be.

As his sister made to get out, he placed a hand on her shoulder, their eyes meeting as she paused halfway out the door. "Ever need to get a chip off your shoulder come talk to me, okay?" Her eyes rolled to the side, and Tyler gave her a little reassuring squeeze, "I'm serious. What are big —"

"— bro's for? I know, I know."

Tyler chuckled as he released her shoulder, "Good. Now," he slammed the door shut and leaned over the roof, "Go sleep in class or something." That at least drew a chuckle out of his sister as she turned away from the car.

The last day of school went how one could expect it to go. Some teachers put on movies and had extra treats for their students. Others went over lessons in the last semester, hoping it would stick to impressionable minds before three months of freedom — minds that were only thinking about freedom and not math.

It was by mid-day when a note made its way into Jay's locker. In gruff, almost unreadable handwriting, it merely said, 'Meet us by the big tree'. Jay instantly knew who it was from and folded the paper up.

A long night was probably ahead.

When the final bell rang, Jay had to wipe the drool off an impromptu pillow-desk before heading out and down the hall. Many of the kids loudly boasted about their summer plans while cleaning out lockers, jostling each other, and hurrying outside. Jay maneuvered around the hoard and quickly escaped out a side entrance, locker already empty since lunch.

It didn't take long to walk a block to the park, down a jogging trail, before splitting off into a cluster of trees. There, in the center of it, laid a large trunk of a dead tree. Upon it splayed out a makeshift map, bags, and — unsurprisingly, two brothers.

"Finally," Grumbled Edgar while raising his head, a red marker still poised over the map. "Where's Sam?"

Jay stared, unaware that Sam was supposed to tag along for the stroll after school let out. "Was I meant to wait for him or?"

"Forget it," came the short grunt, and Edgar was back to the more important matter at hand as Alan turned around to face Jay.

"I'm sure he'll show up. He's got the same note as you," he started to unravel what appeared to be a chaotic ball of cord in his hands. "Oh, hey—" he stopped as a thought struck him, "—Still a no go on the knife?"

Oh, not this again.

Jay leaned against the bare trunk, arms crossed and brow lifted. "Alan, we've been through this. Keep me on the books, but hand me a knife, and someone will lose a finger."

Of course, no one knew if Jay meant their fingers or not, and that was on purpose.

"Maybe some training will help," Edgar spoke up again, pausing on circling locations. "You need to prepare yourself for—"

"— the unexpected. I get it, Ed." Jay cut him off while peering closer to get a look at the map.

"Edgar," he corrected with a tired mutter despite it being useless. They've known each other for an entire year now. One would think it wouldn't matter at this point.

Jay tapped a finger on the closest circled spot, the cemetery. "Thought you marked this off?"

"One can never be certain," He nodded to his own words of wisdom. "It is a common ground for the dead."

"I'd say," Jay suppressed a snort, "It is where the deceased go to be laid into the ground."

Rustling noises announced Sam’s arrival as he pushed through, almost smacking himself in the face with a thin branch. His strained voice drew attention to him. “Guys,” he dusted a leaf off his overly styled coat, “We really need to find a better spot to meet.”

Jay lazily offered a salute wave, “Hey to you too, Sammy.”

“I’m serious,” Sam huffed while taking up a spot near Alan, hands shoved into his pockets. “What about the shop? Y’know, with school now over and stuff?”

Edgar grunted in thought. “Yeah, that ought to be doable.”

“Your grandpa still against us being at the house?” Alan spoke up.

Sam gave a partial shrug. “Sort of,” he eyed the map, then glanced at Jay, who returned the unspoken question with a tired look. Sam returned to explaining when Edgar motioned for him to continue. “You guys can visit, as you have, but you can’t — you know —” he shuffled his hands for the right phrasing, “— bring hunting business there.”

Jay had never actually been to Sam’s place, but the stories shared made it sound like a lot of stuff went down there — destroying property kind of stuff. So Jay could understand what the man was trying to avoid. The Frog Brothers being walking time bombs of destruction, after all.

“The cemetery again?” Sam squawked at noticing it. “I am not doing that again.” The sound of Jay snickering redirected Sam’s defiant stare. “Make Jay do it this time.”

“Wait, wha—”

“—He doesn’t have the qualification for it, Sam.” Edgar cut in before an argument could occur. This only made Sam huff, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“So? I didn’t either last year.”

Alan stopped weaving the cord at this point, placing it down on the dead trunk. “Jay needs the experience. It could be good for him.” He simply spoke, agreeing with Sam.

“Hey, Jay’s right here,” he had pointedly avoided parading around Santa Carla for a whole damn year. Sure, his knowledge of supernatural things is what drew the Frog Brothers to him in the first place — and the free charge of ordering books at their shop kept Jay in the circle, but he was a good year older than them and didn’t feel like playing make-believe.  

Sam smirked in the way that screamed challenging, “C’mon, Jay, or are you scared of the dark?”

Jay narrowed his eyes, “I know what you are doing.”

“Then prove me wrong,” Sam continued.

“No.”

Despite that, Jay found himself amongst the dead at one in the damn morning. It was eerie, the cemetery, sitting in absolute silence and blanketed by a coat of darkness. The only noise now filtering through was shoes scrapping against the ground and low grumbles around him, voices hushed as not to alert anybody — or anything. Even their flashlights were ordered to stay off unless it called for it, as directed by Edgar.

“Exactly what should we be expecting to find here?” Jay spoke up quietly while trailing behind the two brothers, hands stuffed into his jacket. It was chilly tonight.

“Any signs of the undead.” Edgar simply said without much explanation, to which Alan filled in.

“Disturbed graves, tombs broke, drag marks.” he ticked off like a list.

“Ah,” Jay deadpanned. “So zombies?” the brothers turned to him, the moonlight hitting their frames but leaving their faces shadowed. “What?”

“Could be vampires too.” Edgar simply grunted. “Fresh ones crawling out of their dirt bed.” Alan nodded along with his brother, and Jay sighed.

“Sure, yeah. That too,�� It wasn’t like anything of the sort actually existed, but Jay would humor the guys. They put up with his oddities, after all, so he could continue to do the same for them.

“Didn’t any of your books mention that?” Edgar continued while turning around, walking along a worn-out path again, and avoiding stepping on actual graves.

“A little,” Jay admitted as they continued on their trek.

A majority of Jay’s supernatural books were all about how one became something, the signs, and lore behind creatures — not exactly if they crawl out of graves or not. It made sense, though, if considering how people feared vampires in the past. How they would stake and behead someone during burial just in case their loved one decided to raise again.

Same could be said about leaving a bell.

Alan suddenly crouched down near the edge of a grave. “Look,” his flashlight clicked on to bask the empty hole in light. Edgar followed promptly as Jay stared at the two figures eyeing an obvious dug hole for a burial happening soon.

“It might be a sign.” Edgar rubbed a finger over the crumbling edges, dirt smearing and falling back inside the pit.  

“Or,” Jay leaned over them to get an exact look at the perfect outline, “It is the groundskeeper getting ready for a funeral. There’s not even a casket down there.” Jay simply summarized before leaning back.

Alan clicked off the light and stood, “He’s right, Edgar. It is too perfect.”  

“Hey!” the voice resonated out, cutting the muffled talking off as a beam of light frantically flailed in their directions. “What are you kids doing?!”

Without a shared word between the three, just mere glances at one another, they quickly split. Or at least Jay tried to do just that, but the brush of Edgar flying past him in a rush entirely threw him off balance. It wasn’t until tailbone smashed into dirt that Jay even figured out what happened.

“Fuck…” he muttered, then covered his mouth as the light grew brighter over the grave from above, rushing footfalls growing closer before fading away in the direction the brothers ran. Once it was clear, the curse slipped again with more fever.  

Jay eased to his feet and stared above his head, the wall towering almost a foot over him. “They truly mean six-feet-under,” he muttered while raising a hand to the ledge, just able to cup fingers over the lip, only to stumble back as it gave away.

The recent rainfall was not making it easy.

Again Jay tried to grab, shoes scraping along the wall in an attempt to gain some height — thinking if he just rushed up the wall it would give him enough momentum, only to fall back against the adjacent wall.

“Shit — fuck,” Jay didn’t even care if his voice traveled that time. He was stuck in a damn grave, after all! Screw it!

“Need a lift?” came a voice from above, and Jay shot his gaze upward to see a hand reaching down toward him. The moonlight didn’t offer much else to see but light curls and the frame of a coat.

Even if it were the security guard, Jay knew this would be his best bet. It wasn’t like waiting till daylight to be discovered was an option. It would not help much in regards to needing to be home before Jay’s parents could find out he even snuck out.  

He reached for the hand, feeling leather against palm and uncovered fingers wrap around his wrist. It took only one good heave, shoes against the wall and other hand clinging to the edge, to be entirely pulled out. Despite mud caking Jay from front to back, he could even feel it in his shoes; it felt good to be back on the surface. It wasn’t like he had a fear of enclosed places, but it still sucked regardless.

“Thanks,” he looked over at the stranger, still only catching the slightest glimpse of a smirk within the darkness. It was hard to make out any features, and the way the guy stood didn’t help anything.

“Were you takin’ a dirt bath?” he joked inquisitively, and Jay chuckled under his breath.

“No, not exactly.” Who would want to do that in a cemetery anyway?  

The beam of a flashlight washed over them again as rustling sounds drew near, and Jay stepped away from the pre-dug grave. Definitely not wanting to repeat that incident all over.

“Looks like we should start running,” spoke up the other guy, head turned away from Jay to peer toward the security guard.

What was once hidden was now lit up like a spotlight. A smooth curved jawline, willowed eyes bright with brown, and curly dirty blond hair glowed on display for a split moment. Until the flashlight jostled by the running security guard fanned over the area. And Jay would be lying if he said he didn’t stare.

“Avoid any more holes, yeah?” he easily teased before seemingly stepping in a direction with no real speed.

Jay floundered for a moment before taking off after him. “Wait.” Jay didn’t know the grounds that well, and the two idiots that did had left him.

The guy laughed while reaching behind him, grabbing Jay’s wrist again with no problem, then started to run as the worn-out guard hollered something. He seemed to avoid any lifted tombstones, flower arrangements, and small fences like it were daytime. All while Jay tried his best not to stumble, gaze more on the ground than anywhere else.

When they neared the exit gate, chained to prevent people at such odd hours to visit, he let Jay’s arm go and placed both palms out while crouching down. Jay didn’t have to ask and quickly stepped into the waiting hands. He felt the guided push upward as his own hands grabbed for purchase, trying to avoid being nicked by the gothic-style fence. Yet, as Jay’s leg swung over, his pants snagged and ripped — the gravity of his body spilling over the other side holding little resistance.

Surprisingly Jay landed on his feet, if not a little wobbly, and quickly looked through the fence to see the guy still standing there undeterred. “You coming?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he simply said. Jay wanted to comment, but the sight of the guard pushing past the nearest tombstones shut him up. “Go.” he laughed again — actually laughed as if nonplussed by the whole thing. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him distracted.” Then he turned around and fanned his arms out as if directing air traffic before darting down the side of the fence.

And that was the last Jay saw of the guy before quickly hiding behind the bushes lining outside of the cemetery, not wanting to be seen as the flashlight shown in his direction.

The walk home was slow as he picked flakes of mud off his jeans. Jay could feel the dry mess on his face and in his hair. A shower was needed as well as a talk with the Frog Brothers tomorrow. No way were they getting off free from abandoning him in the damn graveyard! Even as he climbed back through the bedroom window, Jay was envisioning how he’d throttle them. It wasn’t until he was in the shower, scrubbing extra hard to clean the grime off, that his thought wavered to the stranger.

“Why was he even there?”