#in my scribble era again apologies

[3catseveryday]

day 236 !

[fluffypotatey]

Consider an au with the soul mate identify trope of your writing on your skin showing up in the skin of your soulmate. Obviously shadowpeach are soulmates . Would them during their nemesis Era use that to torment/taunt the other(insults, threats,etc) or would they pretend it didn't exist

gonna be honest with you, anon, i am super picky with my soulmate AUs (out of love, i love them so much !and this has made me a harsh grader for them)

anyway

i don't think Macky would use their "link," so to speak, as a means to torment or taunt (not including swk because it was honestly Macadoodle who was the instigator and provoker throughout their nemesis dynamic in lmk). and i feel like Wukong's punishment under the 5 Phases Mt. would cut off their communication the fastest because even if Macky wrote on his arm, Wukong would never see it or be able to write back (which Mackarell is very aware of). after their fight, neither would be able to write back an apology or even scribble some sweet drawing if they still can't find the right words. so, it's possible that because of this 500 year pause of communication, their old habit of scribbling and writing notes on their arms faded pretty quickly.

and then Wukong is free. his arms are no longer fused with rock. his arms are bare, obviously. he feels that old itch to scribble or write something on them, but he doesn't follow through with it. he can't. not after what the both of them had said to each other. sure, centuries passed but how would Wukong know if Macky would be happy to learn he's okay, that he's free. the last thing Macky even said to him was that he was tired of being dragged along by Wukong, so....maybe Wukong shouldn't drag Macky along any further.

and then they meet again, and Macky is pissed. whether at Wukong or for him, it's hard for the monkey king to tell because Macky is mad and bloodthirsty and he is hurting Wukong friends. he is impersonating Wukong, trying to steal his journey--not even his, it's Tripitaka's, his master's-- trying to fool everyone into think that Wukong is nothing more than a demon who desires for nothing but to consume the world of its power and reign as the greatest there's ever been-

then Macky is dead. everything happened to fast, but there the monkey lies on the ground, arms bare. they have always been bare ever since the war they started with Heaven centuries ago. Macky's arms are bare and so are Wukong's.

when Macky wakes up/is revived the memory of their link and broken bond is still fresh, but for Wukong, it's been a long, long time.

Wukong has grown to become used to the scribbles and ink on his arms to never be reciprocated. he doesn't even write or draw on them that much, just when the itch to do something is strong but he's got no spare paper or spare mural room. he even allows his little Suns write or scribble on him just for fun or when they're bored. he even allows MK, who's arms are always filled to the brim with scribbles by the time the kid arrives for training.

Macky did not expect to ever wake up one day and find his arm full of ink. he clawed it at since washing it off didn't work. there's a strange sort of limbo Macky's mind seems to go into whenever he considers the reason for why Wukong is still scribbling, still adding life to their link. all throughout seasons 1 to 3 Macky figured it was because Wukong had eventually moved on enough to stop caring.

and yes, Wukong did move on. but he never stopped caring. Macky hadn't believed that until he was with MK in that scroll.

and it's strange. to find out that the person you once loved still loves you (how much or how different is still unclear). it's even stranger when you realize that you, yourself, do not still hold love from the past but for the present, for the future.

after Azure's defeat, there's some new scribbles on both of their arms. Wukong swears he didn't change his style, so obviously it must be Macquackity himself who'd done it (then he starts to smile while holding his arms tightly to his chest). Macky just huffs and claims that it's better than boredom (then draws on a sun and a moon on the wrist of his arms).

[parvulous-writings]

AHHH YOU WRITE FOR BILL AND TED !! there's so little of them on here or anywhere else it's so sad.

If it's not too much trouble, could you write some Bill fluff hcs, or like a mini fic about gn or fem reader tutoring them both and Bill has a crush on them/her?

If not, no worries just ignore. And if you do, thank you for your service 🫡

OKAY OKAY - I'm going to combine these a little bit- so, you tutor both Bill and Ted, and Bill has a bit of a crush on you- as headcanons!

Apologies the sides of tutor/relationship are a tad uneven, I wrote most of this in the early hours of the morning, and muse was... all over the place XD

Not my gif

Bill had always just scraped by when it came to his grades. He was just about average for the majority of his education - but his teachers had always had an inkling that he could push himself more, the same with Ted as well. Neither of them particularly minded being average grade, though - they weren't failing, so why try change anything?

It's only when they start getting further into their High-School education that they have this... Nagging feeling, that something needs to be done- but, no matter how hard the pair of them try, nothing seems to change. Nothing... Grabs them, or holds their attention for very long. They try again and again - drilling each other, testing one another on the right answers to all the questions they've made based on the subjects. It never works, nothing sticks.

Starting to get desperate, Bill starts to turn to you - not explicitly, initially, though. He sits next to you in a couple of classes, so he starts looking over your shoulder every so often, scribbling down as many notes as he can without being suspicious. He manages it - but nothing makes sense to him OR Ted when they look back on the notes.

Unsure of what else to do, they keep up this little scheme. They've no better ideas, and though they have absolutely NO clue what half of it means, they cannot see any other option for them.

Unfortunately, Bill was not as sneaky as he thought that he was. Nowhere even close. You'd noticed a couple weeks ago- and you'd just let him continue, assuming that he would be able to go up at least a grade with the notes you'd essentially given him. But as you watched, his grades never changed. So, you decided to take a more active hand in it.

You approached him and his friend Ted one day, whilst they sat in the corner of the courtyard together, surrounded by books and notes they had made. "Bill, my most excellent friend," The darker haired one began, looking up from his work. "I can't understand a single thing any of these books say..." Bill looks up at this, looking equally as disappointed. "Neither can I, Ted... Neither can I..." He sighs, before returning to his little endeavour.

You clear your throat, startling both of them. They both turn to look up at you. "Uh... Hello?" Ted breaks the silence, "Can we help you?" He doesn't mean to sound rude at all, and if anything, he just sounds like he's attempting to sound like he's a gentleman of a bygone era. "Well, I was actually wondering if I could help you..." You chuckle back at them. Their eyes light up simultaneously.

And that's how it begins - your tutoring lessons. Twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Any subject, and all of them - you leave it to Bill and Ted to decide what you cover, and you spend however long they need on it. You actually begin to notice some remarkable improvement with this method- they finally start to understand and build on the knowledge you help them to gain. They start to improve in class, and you couldn't be prouder of them.

Ted thanked you to know end - and often showed his appreciation with a non-stop flow of all the musical facts stored in his head. Bill, on the other hand, was a little bit quieter. He often just... Gazed at you. He often stayed longer than he needed as well, thanking you for your time and making sure his notes were correct.

It was roughly two months of this before Bill actually decided to make his move on you. "So... Are you doing anything this evening?" "I don't think so... Why d'you ask, Bill?"

He tries to overlook the way his heart flutters - as it has started to more and more in the past few weeks - when you say his name. "Well, I was wondering if you'd like to catch a movie with me, there's this drive in theatre not too far away, and.."

You barely have to hear the rest of the sentence before you say yes - and you don't regret it. It was a sweet little evening - Bill even got you popcorn. He drove you home after that - and over the next few weeks, it became your thing. Go out to the movies, have some popcorn. Ted even comes along with you a few times!

You always looked forward to your movie night with Bill - whether it was at the theatre, the drive in, or even at home. Neither of you minded where it was; it was more of the fact that the pair of you were spending time with one another, outside of the tutoring. Even though it sometimes bled over into your study sessions- with Bill often going, "Hey, isn't that like when we saw..." when it's relevant (and even sometimes when it's not) - it's a nice getaway for the pair of you, and it's a little weekly tradition you have to yourselves for a very long time.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kicho's Main Story Ch. 13 Part 1 Romantic

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support Cybird by buying their stories. Spoilers under the cut. Expect grammatical errors.

Suddenly, I smelled the scent of damp soil outside the window, and as I looked up, another memory popped into my mind.

(Come to think of it, we took shelter together that rainy day.)

------------Flashback------------

Kicho: “As long as you live in this world, the opinions and beliefs of others will make who you are.”

Kicho: “That’s why everyone has unanswered questions.”

Mai: “Everyone?”

Kicho: “Still, don’t forget. Wherever you are, whatever you do, you are you.”

Kicho: “As long as you have your will to live, this truth will never change.”

Kicho: “You are not just someone. You’re Mai.”

Kicho: “Wherever you are, whatever you do, just live as you.”

---------Flashback Ends---------

(Wherever I am, I can live as me.)

(That was what Kicho told me from the start.)

(That's why I...)

???: "Mai."

A low voice replied briefly, and Sasuke landed in the room quietly.

Mai: "So you came from the top today. You really are dedicated to your work."

Sasuke: "Thanks for the compliment."

Sasuke: "So, have you decided? What are you gonna do?"

Mai: "Yes, I'm going home."

Sasuke: "Huh?"

Sasuke: "You're serious. All right."

Sasuke: "Then let's hurry before we miss our only chance."

Sasuke: "Mai, how are you doing over there?"

Mai: "Great. I think it’ll be done shortly."

Sasuke: "I see. I'll go over there and get some water."

Mai: "Okay. Thanks."

I watched Sasuke move deeper into the forest and checked the grilled fish.

(It’s starting to cook well. It’s a little like camping.)

(Well, it’s still hard to start a fire. But what can I do? I’m in the Sengoku period.)

(Alrighty, I’ll check it again while I’m waiting.)

I took out a hastily scribbled note from my bag.

(The Oda army will leave Azuchi tomorrow, and their route will be一)

Sasuke: “............”

Mai: “Waah!? Sasuke, how long have you been there!?”

Sasuke: “A while ago. Sorry, you seemed so focused, so I tried to erase my presence.”

Mai: “Yeah. It was perfect. I didn’t even notice you until I looked up.”

Mai: “Wait, did you fetch the water already?”

Sasuke: “Yeah. But we can't relax even though we're on a break.”

Sasuke: “I have to get you safely back to Sakai before the Oda army arrives.”

Mai: “Yeah. Sorry for getting you into this trouble.”

Sasuke: “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’m here to help.”

Sasuke squinted his eyes slightly and picked up a freshly cooked grilled fish.

(That’s reassuring. I couldn’t have made this decision alone.)

(I can’t believe I’m going back to Kicho and not to my original time.)

After making up my mind, I spent the next few days attending war councils to learn Kicho's whereabouts and situation. Then, I slipped out of the castle with Sasuke last night.

I left eight lucky charms and a letter for everyone in the Oda army, apologizing for leaving without saying anything and wishing each of them well.

That letter, full of every thanks I could think of for everything they have done so far, has then probably already been discovered.

(It was painful to say goodbye like that, but I had no choice.)

(It was the best solution I could do.)

Mai: "Sasuke. I'm glad I came to this era."

Mai: "I guess I wasn't wrong in the past when I decided not to get too deep into it, but now that I have someone I care about, I feel like I can live more like myself."

Sasuke: "I see. Actually, I know exactly how you feel."

Sasuke: "After sending you off, I planned to stay in this period."

Mai: "You have someone important, too, don't you?"

Sasuke: "Yeah, a lot."

Sasuke: "So no matter what, I will support you."

Mai: "Okay! Thank you so much."

Mitsuhide: "Lord Nobunaga, excuse me."

Nobunaga: "Did you find Mai?"

Mitsuhide: "No. But the maid found this in her room."

Nobunaga: "A letter? And what are these?"

Mitsuhide: "Probably lucky charms. The maid said it was left there along with the letter."

Nobunaga: "Ho?"

Nobunaga opened the letter he received, and after a moment of silence, he sighed lightly.

Nobunaga: "Her handwriting is very sloppy."

Mitsuhide: "What does it say?"

Nobunaga: "It says that she left the castle silently. She also apologizes for that, wishes everyone in the Oda well, and expresses her gratitude for all we've done."

Mitsuhide: “That’s very typical of that lass.”

Nobunaga: “Typical of her, huh? Then what do you think about this?”

Nobunaga: “The letter ends with this statement.”

Mitsuhide: “I’m a spy who snuck into the Oda army. I see. We’ve been tricked.”

Mitsuhide: “I had no idea she was involved in all the planning, including the bombardment of the castle.”

Nobunaga: “She’s a better actor than you. She fooled everyone in the castle.”

Mitsuhide: “Lord Nobunaga, what should we do?”

Nobunaga: “Naturally, I won’t tolerate anyone who stands in the way of unification.”

Nobunaga: “If that woman has confessed to being a traitor, then we must eliminate her and Kicho.”

Nobunaga: “We’ll head to Sakai tomorrow.”

Mitsuhide: “Understood.”

A few days later一

(All right. There are no guards here.)

Stealthily slipping between the houses, I ran to the main street, then back into the shadows, looking around and holding my breath.

(Don’t be hasty. I need to proceed carefully until I reach the trading post. If they find me here, it’ll be over.)

(I shouldn’t waste Sasuke’s kindness in vain.)

Sasuke and I parted shortly before arriving in Sakai.

The rumors that Kicho himself had spread caused a disturbance in the public order around Sakai.

Because of this, we got caught up in the fighting, so Sasuke let me go, telling me to go on ahead.

(Kicho is in this town. That's why...)

Mai: "Mmhp!?"

Suddenly, someone covered my mouth from behind and put my arms behind my back.

(Crap, they found me!)

I felt a dull ache in my arm as I frantically twisted around.

Mai: "----!"

???: "Stop resisting. If you screw around, you'll break your arms."

(This voice...)

I moved my eyes to look across the street and saw someone approaching, smirking.

Motonari: "You're really bad at sneaking in, Princess."

Mai: “Motonari, let me go!”

Motonari: “Ha? Why are you even saying that to me? That guy is the one who’s holding you back.”

Mai: “Aren’t you the one giving orders to this guy?”

Motonari: “Geez, you’re so loud. Don’t forget, I’m doing you a favor by letting you talk right now.”

Motonari: “If I wanted to, I could cut off your mouth, your cocky eyes, and even your legs.”

Mai: “That’s...”

Motonari: “Ha! See, you can shut up. Follow me.”

Mai: “Fine.”

(It’s frustrating, but if I can’t do anything about it, there’s no way I could escape.)

(I never thought Motonari would find me.)

After capturing me, Motonari passed by the trading post and came straight to the port.

As I followed, unsure of his intentions, I noticed a large ship.

Mai: "Since I'm behaving quietly, can I, at least, ask you one question?"

Motonari: "What is it?"

Mai: "If we're at the port, does that mean we're going somewhere?"

Motonari: "Yeah, we'll move to another port from here. It's a perfect place to wait for the Oda army."

(Another port!?)

Mai: "Then, could you please stop by the trading post first? I have something important to do."

Motonari: "Kicho, right? If it's him, he's not there anymore."

Motonari: "To begin with, that trading post is heavily guarded but deserted."

Motonari: "It's better to have some clear information to spread rumors."

Mai: "Then, where's Kicho now?"

Motonari: "I only allowed one question. I've already answered two. It's time for you to shut up."

Motonari: "Don't worry, I'll take you back to your boss."

Mai: "Is that..."

Once we got on board, Motonari opened the door of one of the rooms without knocking.

Motonari: "Excuse me."

Kicho: "That's what you should've said before twisting that doorknob."

(Ah...)

Sighing, Kicho stood up from the chair and turned around.

The moment he saw me, his eyes widened.

Kicho: "Mai, why are you here?"

Mai: "Umm, I just wanted to apologize for the horrible things I said to you the other day."

Kicho: "Is that the only reason you came here?"

Kicho: "The wormhole will appear tonight at Honnoji Temple, as I observed. It's your last chance to return to your own time."

Mai: "I know."

Kicho: "Do you understand what it means to be here?"

Kicho: "It means you'll be left behind in this period with no way to return. You一"

Mai: "I know!"

Kicho: "..........."

Mai: "I understand everything. I know that's why I'm here now, of my own free will."

Mai: "I told you, don't decide for someone how to live their life."

Mai: "It doesn't matter how you live your life or how I live mine."

Kicho: "Mai."

(Your life is more precious to me than anything else because I love you so much.)

(I want you to live and be happy because your life is irreplaceable.)

(That's the only answer I found after living my life as me.)

Mai: "If you think justice and a villain are necessary for peace, I'll gladly become that villain too. I'll become everyone's enemy."

Kicho: “What are you…”

Mai: “Let me tell you something. There’s no turning back now.”

Mai: “I left a note saying I’m your accomplice, who snuck into Azuchi Castle.”

As I stepped toward the startled Kicho, Motonari burst out laughing behind me.

Motonari: “Ahahaha! You really are fucking crazy.”

Mai: "I-It's not a laughing matter! I made a serious decision."

Motonari: "That's why I'm laughing. As usual, yer head is still full of flowers."

Motonari: "If you're going to stay in this era, you better figure out how to stop this situation without risking the life of someone you care about."

Mai: "Me? Hold on. You know I'm not from this era?"

Motonari: "Yeah. Kicho told me everything. That's why you're the right fella for the job."

Motonari: "If yer head is full of everything about peace, you can easily think of another idea."

(Another idea...?)

Motonari: "Well, you two enjoy the rest of the evening."

Motonari: "It'd be rude to interrupt this emotional reunion any longer."

Motonari turned his back and left the room.

Mai: "You told Motonari everything, and then you decided to fight together?"

Kicho: "Yeah, that's right."

Mai: "Then why didn't you tell me?"

Mai: "I heard you're willing to give up your life in this fight."

Kicho: "That's..."

He frowned and fell silent.

His chest seemed to be filled with conflict, confusion, and many other emotions.

Mai: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound mean."

Mai: "The last time I spoke with you, I didn't realize the truth you were keeping from me."

Mai: "And I asked you terrible things too. I'm sorry."

Kicho: "Raise your head. You don't owe me an apology."

Kicho: "If anyone owes you an apology, it's me."

Mai: "You?"

Kicho: "Yeah. If I had really only thought about you, I wouldn't have gone to see you."

Kicho: "I wanted to make sure you were safe, but I guess I wanted to keep you somewhere."

Kicho: "I wanted you to be in my heart even if you don't stay in this era."

Mai: "Kicho..."

Mai: "I love you, so you don't have to do that."

Mai: "But thank you. Thank you for thinking of me that way."

I couldn't resist running up to him and hugging him, putting all my strength into my arms to convey all my feelings through my heartbeat and warmth.

Kicho: "I never thought you'd thank me."

Kicho: "You really are..."

(Ah...)

Swallowing a slight tremor in his voice, he hugged me too.

(It's okay, you don't have to say anything more.)

(I understand everything. It's all getting through.)

Kicho: "Thank you for coming back to me."

Kicho: "No."

Mai: "Huh? No?"

Kicho: "This is dangerous for you. You should value your life a little more."

Mai: "Someone who tried to sacrifice himself has no room to say that."

Mai: "But you're right. Our current strategy indeed seemed unreasonable."

(I wish I could come up with a quick one, but it's not easy.)

After a brief moment of happiness at our reunion, we remembered that we didn't have much time left, so we started thinking of new plans for the future.

Kicho: "Let me reiterate the situation. First, I had no problem with the actions you took."

Kicho: "There's nothing unusual about the travel guide, and you're not getting sick like you used to."

Kicho: "In other words, we're still able to avoid a war-torn future."

Mai: "You're right. I think what's important is to make the enemies or enemy disappear."

Mai: "However, that enemy must be someone not heavily involved in the history we are about to face."

Mai: "So, Ieyasu, who's about to open the Tokugawa Shogunate, is not allowed."

Kicho: "Yeah. He's too important."

Mai: "If Japan itself is the stage, then we're the supporting characters."

Mai: "Someone who would've remained the same whether they were there or not..."

Kicho: "Mai."

Mai: "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to sound so gloomy, but this is weird."

Kicho: "I guess you're still tired."

Kicho: "Fatigue affects our thinking. Get some rest."

Mai: "Maybe so, but now is not the time to一"

Kicho: "Impatience also has an effect. Anyway, wait here for a while."

He said that and quickly left the room.

(I'm kind of making him worried.)

(I didn't come here to drag his feet.)

Sighing, I plopped down on the table and groaned.

After a while, I heard the door open again.

Kicho: "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Mai: "No, it's okay. More importantly, what did you bring?"

Kicho: "Tea. It's a good thing I left some."

He carefully poured the tea into a teacup, emptied a small bowl, and took something out.

Kicho: "How sweet do you like it?"

Mai: "Huh? Sugar in this era?"

Kicho: "I'm the head of a trading post. I can get almost anything."

Mai: "I see. Then, a little sweet."

Kicho: "Yeah, got it."

He picked a few pieces of konpeito (sugar candy) and put them in the tea, the lovely sugar candy slowly melting in the steamy amber.

Kicho: "Here. You'll feel a little more relaxed if you drink something warm."

Mai: "Okay. Thank you."

Gratefully accepting it, I took a sip and a gentle sweetness spread in my mouth.

(It's delicious.)

(I feel my body warming up gradually from deep inside my stomach.)

Kicho: "There's that look."

Mai: "What?"

Kicho: "You finally smiled."

Previous Part╏Masterlist╏Premium

[leggerefiore]

Vampirism

cw: blood drinking, vampires

kinda doing some Halloween based things but seeing as I usually write about monsters lmao

~

You watched as the Vampire Lord worked tirelessly at his desk. One might think they'd have few things to do in the modern era, but you knew that was untrue. Ingo always found methods of busying himself with things. Between running the subway system of Unova and managing vampire business, it seemed he was never without a document requiring his attention. His bat-like wings rested close to his body while he bit his lip.

Suddenly, a thought hit you.

“Ingo… When was the last time you fed?” you asked. He had not drunk from you in days, and you had not seen him go out to find blood for a while either. His features looked tired, but now you questioned whether it was from exhaustion or lack of food. If it was that, you were immensely concerned about his health. You understood his work was important, yet you wanted nothing more than for him to be happy and healthy. This was partly because you were his blood mate; the other half was wanting to avoid Emmet whining and crying about you not watching his brother.

His pen stopped scribbling against the paper as he turned to look at you. The moon's light shined beautifully through his office windows as your words weighed on him. Iridescent seas of mercury blinked before he stood. “Too long…” Ingo realised, “Oh, dearest, I'm sorry for worrying you. I simply got too busy to remember my destinations.” He seemed genuinely embarrassed and distressed despite his unmoving facial expression. The lovely eyes of his swelled with emotion. You tsk'd your tongue. This was no good.

Dark circles clung under his eyes as rubbed at them. His sleeping must have been restless, too. You had felt that he was tossing and turning beside you at night, but you kept it to yourself. Being alive for centuries could leave you with unpleasant dreams, you knew. Still, in the present, he needed to eat something. It was clear as he swayed while he stood. Easily, you presented your wrist to him. “Eat away, Ingo,” you smiled. Your blood helped more benefits for him than anyone else's due to your status. He swallowed.

“I couldn't,” Ingo shook his head and denied you, “It's cruel of me to use you as a personal supply of food.” You mimicked him with your head and pushed your hand closer to him. “Well, I don't mind,” your words were spoken with ease, “Come on, you need to eat. You're visibly unwell.” He bit his lip, but saw there was no way to ignore his hunger. An apology was murmured as he gently brought your wrist to his mouth. Fangs pierced through your skin with a practised precision. You flinched at the slight pain and shuddered at the feeling of your blood being sucked away from you.

Your precious sanguine quickly entered Ingo's system as he drank from you. Heat bloomed in your face when he let out a slight moan from the taste of your blood. His wings spread out and more was consumed from you. Just as you were beginning to worry about him taking too much, he pulled away. He licked the small crimson droplets that formed from the twins holes in your wrist. Quickly, it clotted and became invisible from sight. You sat down in a chair as your head spun. Definitely starved. You wished he wouldn't do this, but were always happy to help him.

“I apologise once more, my love,” he leaned down over you to press a kiss to your temple, “I am ever so thankful for your help… In the future, I will work to prevent this from happening again.”

“I swear, you do this every so often to just get a drink of my blood,” you joked and wrapped your arms around his neck. The coolness of his skin sunk into you, but you didn't mind, having grown used to his lowered temperature long ago.

“I do not,” he quickly retaliated, cheeks blooming with colour, “I get too involved in my work that I forget to feed. It's a bad habit I need to quit.” You nodded and pulled him to you, peppered kisses to his cheek.

“Mmm, I'll forgive you if you carry me to bed while flying,” you offered. He sighed.

“As you wish, dearest.”

[blueestbluejay]

Black Coffee Bet Chpt 2

Chapter Two, here we are! Heads up, the chapters have a kinda inconsistent size, but they’re still jampacked with that sweet sweet fic goodness : ]

- Mod Arven

Tatsumi sat down in his english class. It had been a week since he and HiMERU had made the bet. And now it was time for Tatsumi to move in. He watched from the front of his poetry class as several students filed in, including Mayoi. He smiled and waved at him as he walked in. Mayoi stiffened and cautiously waved back.

Mayoi was incredibly anxious. There he was again, that green-haired man from yesterday. He was undoubtedly attractive, but he always felt nervous around him, unsure of what to do. Besides, he was arranging to go out with HiMERU. He was confused. He wasn’t supposed to feel multiple people… right? He shook his head, heading to his usual seat. As he sat down in the back of the class, the teacher called for everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone. We’re going to be analyzing victorian era gothic poetry today. If you could pair up and begin some discussion of what you know so far, that would be ideal. You have 30 minutes.”

Mayoi looked up from his notebook where he was scribbling to himself as someone sat down next to him. He jumped slightly, looking up in surprise. It was the green-haired boy from before. He was smiling gently. “Is it alright if I partner with you?” Mayoi stuttered for a moment before nodding, trying not to let his face flush up. His smile brightened a bit. “My name is Tatsumi. What’s yours?” “I-uh, my name is Mayoi.” “That’s a lovely name.” His guard slipped for a second as his face flushed a slight pink. “T-thank you.” “So, what do you know about gothic poetry?” He perked up slightly at this. “Oh! I know quite a bit actually. I quite enjoy Adda Lovelace and Poe’s works, although I also appreciate the literature of Mary Shelly and Brahm Stoker, but that’s not the topic. I find it quite interesting how it takes a gothic turn, often discussing the macabre as well as existentialism at later points…” Mayoi continued to ramble for a bit before suddenly stopping. “I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be rambling so much.” “It’s quite alright. There’s no need to apologize. Besides, it’s quite nice to hear your enthusiasm about the topic.” Mayoi’s eyes widen in disbelief. “R-really?!” “Of course. It’s nice to hear a different view.” “W-well, what are your thoughts?” “I’m not personally a fan of morbid topics, but there’s a certain introspectiveness to it that I quite admire.” Mayoi nodded. “Y-yes. It’s quite an essential part of Poe’s works.” “I’m admittedly not as familiar as I should be with his. Perhaps you would be willing to have a study session with me to teach me more about him and his works?” Mayoi’s eyes widened, face flushing again. “I-I-I would love to, but I’m afraid I have plans coming up.” “It’s alright. I’m sure they won’t interfere. May I ask what your plans are?” “I-I have a date, actually…” Mayoi trailed off, fidgeting with his braid as he looked down. His smile wavered for a second. He may be too late. As much as he didn’t want to take advantage of a kind soul, he didn’t want HiMERU to win either. “I see. I’m happy for you. Still, may I ask when it is so we can schedule around it?” “I-it’s this Wednesday, actually.” He nodded. “So would Thursday work?” He nodded. “E-evnings would be better though since I have work.” “Of course. I’m happy to accommodate.” He smiled again, tilting his head to the side slightly. “So, is it set?” Mayoi nodded, smiling tentatively. “Yes, I guess it is, then.”

< Prev Chapter / Next Chapter >

[mgnifiqueyoo]

Starting Over Again — ljy & ksw

Summary: - After years of trying to forget your first heartbreak, you finally met someone new. However, just as soon as you thought it's all over, the universe decides to make you face him again — the one who broke your heart, the one you loved first.

Genre: Romance Pairing(s): Lee Juyeon x Fem!Reader; Kim Sunwoo x Fem!Reader Warning: none Chapter: 3.4 ( previous // next )

~

Every once in a while, I kept on checking how Sunwoo was doing. Surely, he was focused on taking notes once I remind him about something but I wasn't sure about that whenever I looked away. "So, if you compared the two paintings, you could see how they don't really show realistic vibes, right?", I asked, taking a glance at him as he nodded, scribbling down his notebook. Well, obviously, I didn't want to make him think I wasn't interested in him but I also wanted him to focus. I mean, that's the reason why we were on a call, right? "But I'm a little confused with this one part...", he mumbles, scratching the back of his head as I take my attention away from my laptop screen. "Where?", I ask as he later shows two paintings from two different art styles. "This? I don't see that much of a difference... Y/N?" I was startled and I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. Was it my fault to find him really handsome? I should've been guarding my own attention instead. "Ah, that's why...", he chuckled as I shook my head quickly, clearing my throat before proceeding with the discussion. "Look, think about what's more realistic.", I tried to divert his attention away from it but he only yawned purposely. "Oh, you're doing it this way?" I asked, making my voice sound stricter as I noticed how he gulped. "Sorry, Miss L/N.", he joked, adjusting his seatbelt as the view outside of his windows started moving. "Hey, Sunwoo. Who are you talking to?", a deep voice asked as he took off his airpods, looking away from the camera. "Art teacher.", Sunwoo answered. "You didn't sound like talking to one.", the man said back as I noticed how Sunwoo kept a smile to himself... sort of, at least. I was glad that he seemed to be enjoying the review session though, even if he still didn't get the difference between the two paintings from different eras. I mean, shouldn't studying be this way? To not be so much of a pain in the ass but more like a daily activity that makes you want to build up your skills even more? I think that's what the system has been lacking lately. Sunwoo's still young and he seems like he really wants to excel in this one. "Sorry if my signal's bad... I'm on my way home and it's probably gonna take an hour out here.", he suddenly apologizes, turning to look at the window as he seems slightly bothered by it. "You okay? You know, I can just send you notes so that you wouldn't worry too much about the signal.", I suggest, causing him to frown, nodding to himself right after. "Sorry.", he mumbled. "You don't have to apologize.", I responded, giving him a smile. As I was going to reach for my phone to end the call, Sunwoo suddenly lets out a noise. "Is there a problem?", I asked, quite shocked by the sudden gesture. "... Can you not... end the call yet?" And just like what I said earlier, I was shocked and I didn't know how to respond. Well, I'm not really that busy anyway. Besides, I want to get to know him, of course... and he seems like he wants to get to know me, too. I gave him another smile, thinking that it was sweet of him to say something like that. "Sure.", I giggled, taking my phone off of the laptop screen as I rested my back against my couch. "So, what do you want to talk about?", he asked, looking somewhere else as he bit the inside of his cheek. Ah, this guy. "I thought that you're the one who wanted me to not end the call?", I joked as I watched him scratch the back of his head. He's awkward. That's pretty cute. "Ah, Sunwoo, why are you so cute?", I chuckled, leaning my chin against my palm as he laughed, probably finding himself funny in this painfully quiet situation. "Oh, come on. This cuteness I have? I guess I got it from you."

/////

[ a/n: I am very sorry that I literally dipped out from my regular posting schedule but I've been really busy with school and also my personal work life. I also just turned 17 last Friday so yep, I had fun but don't worry! I think I'll get back on track next week!! ]

[spcncershybrid]

She will kill us all- Fred Weasley Imagine

GIF IS NOT MINE

(Summary: Your two best friends rope you into their recent prank little did you know you would be hurt too.)

Fred Weasley X Reader

So basically I’ve seen a lot of people being like ‘oh just imagine Fred’s death being a prank and at the funeral George stays behind and Fred just wakes up saying what a good prank.’ so uh here is something similar. There will be a second part!

April 29th , 1998

“Hey Y/N.” The twins say in unison as I enter their shop.

“Hey why is the closed sign up?” I say pointing to the door.

“We have a plan-“ George starts.

“-a brilliant, heart wrenching, sad idea.” Fred finishes.

“The both of you and plans is never a good thing.” I say sighing.

“Also if it’s just the both of you doing it why did you guys call me?” I ask confused.

“Well our mother won’t kill you for the idea we have planned.” Fred says nodding over to his brother who agrees.

“Just spill your brilliant, heart wrenching, sad idea” I say looking at them suspiciously.

“Well so you know how the whole situation with the Dark Lord is happening.” George says.

“Yes?” I question looking at them.

“Well one of us is planning on fake dying-” Fred says.

“I already hate the sound of this.” I cut him off.

“So I can fake die then at the funeral you guys can hide my body then we can all go home.” Fred finishes raising his eyebrows at me.

I dryly laugh. They can’t be serious. That idea is insane.

“We know what you're thinking-” Fred starts.

“Yeah that you’re insane!” I exclaim looking at them.

“She will literally kill us when she finds out!” I say rubbing my eyes in disbelief.

They really want me to be a part of this!

“She won’t hurt a hair on your head.” George says as Fred nods agreeingly.

“You know what. The thing I get in return better be amazing for helping you gits.” I groan.

“Yes, she’s on board!” George and Fred cheer circling around me.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

May 2nd, 1998

Today’s the day. 

Instead of you-know-who killing us Molly Weasley definitely will.

I can’t believe I agreed to this.

“You ready guys?” George asks looking over to Fred and I.

“Ready to die at the hands of your mother.” I say sarcastically as I twirl my wand along my fingers.

They both laughed at my words and George headed inside.

Fred and I stare at the chaos engulfing around the school.

“After this we should go on a date.” Fred says swaying back and forth.

“Oh Fred Weasley you’ll be the death of me.” I groan softly looking up at him.

“Not if my mum kills you for helping us.” He says laughing as he stares back at me.

I roll my eyes at him and punch his arm.

“So will you?” He asked a playful smirk resting on his lips.

“Sure.” I say giving him a side hug as I notice Percy come upstairs.

“You go with Perce. I'll help fight inside. I promise I’ll be safe.” I say letting him go kissing his cheek.

“I promise I’ll stay alive for our date.” He says kissing the top of my head before going with Percy.

I run inside the building dodging the falling rocks and have my wand held high prepared for the fight of my life.

Little did I know it’ll be the one thing to fight for.

Later in the Great Hall

I walk beside George slightly limping as we enter the Great Hall. Immediately being met with sadness seeing our fallen friends whose lives have ended.

“Why is my mum crying?” George says as he stops abruptly.

“George who’s that on the floor?” I ask stopping next to him as my body grows cold.

Molly looks over at us, tears falling down her face.

We run over to her, dropping to our knees next to Fred’s body.

“There was an explosion that sent him flying into a wall. There was nothing I could do.” Percy said stunned as he watched the pair cry.

“No. You arse you promised!” I whisper angrily as I clutch his clothing tears already making its way down my face.

“Fred! Oh my gosh Fred!” I sob as I shake his body vigorously hoping his eyes would open.

”Come on brother please this was supposed to be a prank.” George whispered for only us to hear.

“He’s dead. My precious boy is dead.” We hear Molly say as we stand.

I look over to George and hug him. We both sob in each other’s arms, parts of us dying with the boy that lie on the floor.

One Week Later

I look into the mirror as I smooth out my black dress.

Today is the funeral. Fred’s funeral.

I take a deep breath and head down the stairs meeting the Weasley family.

We stand together mourning the loss of Fred, each of us nearly tearing ourselves apart as we look at his body lying peacefully in the casket.

“I wish this was a stupid prank.” I whisper to myself.

George walks up to me and stands beside me.

“So much for the plan.” George said sadly as we watched Arthur and Molly cry as they held one another.

“We’ll lay him down tomorrow morning. Morning was his favorite.” Molly said as she headed inside.

Soon enough the Weasleys head inside leaving George and I with the casket.

“You know he promised me he’ll stay safe. He even asked me out before the whole mess.” I say breaking the silence between us.

“Before the war he wanted to ask you out. He fancied you a lot. Ron and I bet each other a galleon if you two got together. I guess I owe him one.” George says laughing quietly recalling the memory.

________________

“They surely will get together.” Ron said as he stared at Y/N and Fred laughing and scheming together.

“They won't, they're both scared.” George said watching the pair.

“They would look cute together. Have you seen him when she’s near.” Ron said, staring at his brother sitting in front of him.

“You should’ve heard him yesterday talking about her. She walked in and he turned as red as our hair.” George says laughing.

“We should set a bet. One single galleon.” Ron said, smirking as he watched as Y/N slapped Fred’s arm playfully.

“You’re on brother. I bet that they won’t get together. This will be easy; they are both too scared to ask each other out. The Yule ball was pure luck for them. It’s been this way since second year.” George says confidently holding out his hand.

“I bet that they will get together.” Ron says matching his brother's confidence and gladly shakes his hand.

“Remember when he stepped on my foot during the ball.” I say laughing with him.

“I thought you would never walk again after. I was surprised he asked you seeing as you burnt the paper ball he threw at you to ask you in the first place.” George says laughing as we both reminisce on the events of the Triwizarding Tournament era of our lives.

________________

“He won’t ask me Angela, it's pure knowledge. Fred Weasley doesn’t like me.” I say sadly looking ahead at a Hufflepuff pair of students walking hand and hand after being asked to the infamous Yule Ball.

“He surely will. Just give him time.” Angela says comforting me.

“I sure hope so.” I say looking at her and get back to writing in my book.

Later on…

We all sat in the Great Hall as Snape walked past us, book nestled in front of his face. 

Fred has non stop been flinging paper balls my way nearly getting me in trouble.

Out of my peripheral vision I notice him ball up another piece of paper.

I pull out my wand concealing it under the table as Snape walks past up stopping right behind Angela, who might I add is sitting right next to me.

Fred chucks the paper towards me but I react quickly.

“Incendio.” I say pointing my wand to the paper watching it burn and the charred pieces fall onto the table.

“Fred Weasley if you throw another paper ball my way I will use that spell on you.” I say glaring at him as I naturally get fed up.

“Open it next time.” He hissed looking at me.

Angela and George snicker watching the two of us bicker at each other.

A few moments pass and I silently pray that he won’t throw another.

I look around the room and hear a small thud in front of me.

I look down noticing a scrunched up piece of paper in front of me resting on top of my book.

I look over to Fred who’s motioning for me to open the paper.

I uncurl the ball and read it.

‘Georgie told me you were complaining about not having anyone to go with to the ball. So Y/N Y/L/N I invite you a one night Weasley special. Will you go to the ball with me? As friends.’ 

I smile at the scribbled writing and look up at him. He’s mimicking a ball like dance and nods to me. I roll my eyes and nod back as he cheers silently.

Although it was only as friends I was overjoyed. 

“Told you.” Angela whispered to me as the twins get back to work.

Day of the Yule Ball 

“Does this color seem tacky?” I ask Angela as I twirl in the mirror.

“It’s simple and cute. Fred will lose his mind looking at you in that.” Angela says as she smooths out her dress.

The dress wasn’t too elegant but it wasn’t plain either. It was a simple blue dress with glitter cascading the bottom half reminding me of the night sky.

I link arms with Angela as we head down the grand staircase making our way to the twins.

George and Angela grab each other’s hand and walk away leaving Fred and I standing alone.

We stare at each other not sure of what to say.

“You look beautiful.” Fred said looking at me.

“Thank you. You don't look too bad either.” I say laughing as we head inside where the students gather waiting for the champions to arrive.

After a while everyone dances with each other. I on the other hand stay sitting down watching the night unfold before my eyes.

“Come on you said you’ll dance.” Fred said walking over to me holding out his hand.

I grab his hand reluctantly and he pulls me to him as we sway back and forth to the beat of the song. 

That was until we twisted too quick and his foot stepped harshly on mine causing me to wince in pain.

“I am so so sorry.” Fred apologizes profusely as he guides me to a table.

“It’s alright just remind me to never dance with you ever again.” I say jokingly as I slip off my heels noticing a large bruise slowly appear on it.

“Noted.” He said sheepishly as he helped me stand and led me to Madam Pomfrey.

________________

“You alright.” George says snapping me out of my memory.

“I will be.” I say sadly before turning on my feet and enter the Weasley home, leaving George outside.

I head upstairs not even bothering to stay down knowing I’ll break down at the sight of everyone upset.

Meanwhile...

George paces around outside staring at the open casket blankly.

What if the potion went wrong when he got hurt? He thought.

Yes he was scared that his brother was truely dead, the thought horrified him. The day their mum pronounced Fred dead he was scared believing he died.

But what if that wasn’t the case? He thought as he stopped.

He entered the house and looked around seeing if anyone was up. He quietly entered the different rooms noticing everyone asleep from the long day.

He quietly exited the home and went up to the casket staring at his brother's pale face.

Remember George just pinch him and he’ll wake up. We made this up ourselves. George thought to himself as he stood over the body.

His hand waved over his brother’s and pinched the back of Fred’s palm.

George stepped back and stared at him silently praying the potion worked. It had been a week at most since Fred ingested the potion. 

Slight movement was beginning to be noticeable and suddenly Fred’s eyes were wide open taking in the night sky. He coughed slightly as George silently cheered.

“Welcome back to the land of the living brother.” George said, helping his brother out of the casket.

“How long was I out from that awful potion?” Fred said his legs buckled as he stood up for the first time in a week.

“A week.” George said, stabilizing his brother.

“Oh man how mad do you reckon they’ll be?” Fred asked, getting excited to see his family's reaction to the whole ordeal.

“Very. Y/N and I cried a lot. Mum and dad cried enough to fill an ocean.” George said laughing.

“You and Y/N cried? You saw me take the potion and I told you to tell her.” Fred said, slightly confused remembering the moment like it was yesterday.

“Beware drinking this might taste like what cat litter smells like.” George said, handing a special blended potion to knock Fred out.

“We don’t even own a cat. How do you know what it smells like?” Fred asked, causing George to roll his eyes.

”I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Fred said as he stared at the bottle.

“Me neither.” George says smiling widely.

“So after I drink this what will you do to wake me up.” Fred said mixing around the liquid watching it swish together.

“All I have to do is pinch you and you’ll wake up.” George said.

“Okay so it’ll affect me later during the war and make sure you tell Y/N so she doesn’t think I died for real.” Fred said as he held the bottle to his lips.

“Of course brother.” George said as he watched Fred drink the potion.

Fred gagged as he drank the potion as the different flavors coated his throat.

“Of course we cried. Percy said you were hit by an explosion that sent you into a wall. I thought you died for real. But later on in the night I remembered the potion would have protected you from anything.” George said as his brother regained mobility.

“So why did Y/N cry?” Fred asked, crossing his arms.

“I never told her about the potion Freddie. She was worked up about the war and it slipped my mind.” George confessed causing his brother.

“She cried over my dead body because you forgot to tell her I wasn’t actually dead! George, that was one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen.” Fred silently exclaimed.

Fred never wanted Y/N to cry over the prank. They already dragged her into the idea he didn’t want her to be heartbroken over the fact that he wasn’t really dead.

“We both thought you were dead Fred. There was no way of telling if you were alive or not.” George argued back.

“Please tell me that she didn’t cry for the whole week.” Fred said, staring at his brother.

George stood silently.

“She will be furious you know. Oh gosh she’ll probably hate me after this.” Fred said, running a hand through his hair.

“She wouldn’t hate you Fred. If anything she’ll hate me.” George says laughing slightly.

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow for the big reveal.” George says shrugging as he guides his brother to a shed on the property.

________________ 

“Where’s my boy? He’s gone!” Molly Weasley’s shocked voice pierces through the quiet home.

I quickly get up and head downstairs.

What does she mean he’s gone?

“He should be in the casket Mrs. Weasley. I don’t think we have grave robbers.” I say rubbing my eyes as everyone comes down the steps.

“He’s not here!” She yelled, sounding shocked.

Ron and Harry ran into the living room in confusion as they heard the commotion.

“Who’s not here?” Ginny asked as she walked in.

“Fred.” Molly said as she clasped her hand over her mouth.

I furrow my eyebrows and look around the room noticing one person of the Weasley clan isn’t here. George.

I huff and stomped upstairs. I walk along the hallway and knocked on his door furiously.

“Come in.” I heard him say.

I open the door angrily.

“You better have one hell of an explanation Weasley.” I hiss.

“On?” He asked confused as he sat up from his bed.

“Where is he?” I say crossing me arms.

“Who are you talking about?” He asked as he stood up from his bed.

“The bloody grindylow’s. You know exactly what I’m talking about George Weasley. Where is he?” I ask my voice raising slightly as I tap my foot on the floor.

“Y/N I wanted to tell you.” George started.

“Tell me where he is or you're both dead for real.”  I say staring at him sternly.

“He’s at the shop. He’s in the flat.” George said as he stared down at his feet.

“This isn’t over.” I say as I walk out of his room.

I walk over to the room I’m staying in and grab my wand. I grab my old quidditch jumper and apparate to Diagon Alley.

I walked down over to the joke shop. I placed my hand on the handle and opened the door. I made my way towards the flat and opened it. Low and behold what do I see, Fred Weasley.

“Why are you here?” He asked startled.

“You’re lucky I don't have your head on a pike and because I know how to apparate properly.” I spat.

“Look, I know you’re mad.” Fred said as he put down a book.

“That’s not even the beginning Weasley. You had me worried sick you were dead for crying out loud. I cried for you, Fred and you’re here alive. Was the prank worth it? Was it worth the tears and the heartbreak? So help me on Gryffindor’s name was this whole thing worth it.” I yell at him as I bite back tears. Some cascaded down my face and I quickly wiped them.

“Y/N I’m sorry. I told George to tell you.” Fred said, his voice cracking.

“You’re sorry is all you have to say for yourself! You can forget about that damned date! Don’t even contact me!” I spat angrily as I ran out the room and down the steps.

I wiped away my tears and apparated back to my room at the Burrow.

“Stupid Weasley’s.” I muttered as I grabbed my rucksack off the bed. I began to fill it with my things.

After a few minutes most of my things were packed. I grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and sat down at the desk.

‘Dear Molly Weasley,

Sorry I won’t be here for the funeral. My condolences but I’m leaving. I wish you all the best. I'll be with my parent’s. Thank you for giving me a place to stay for the week I appreciate it.

                                                                                                                       Love,

                                                                                                               Y/N Y/L/N’

I sealed the letter with tape and placed it onto my desk. I grab at my broom and open the window. I hop onto the broom and clutch the top. I pushed my feet off the window sill and flew off. The trip won’t be too long but it’ll probably take a while.

I soared through the air and sighed. I am going to miss them.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn 

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature 

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road 

You bring me home

[amara-scott]

Confessions

Movie: Harry Potter (Maurauders Era) Characters: Remus Lupin x Reader Categories: Fluffy and Sweet

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It was a cold winter morning when Lilly woke me up to join her at breakfast. I groggily complied, following her without having exchanged a word. I am not a morning person. And she very much knows that. But she is my friend and leaving her to go alone on a Saturday morning would be too cruel. Simply because of one person. James Potter- we all know they are meant to be. They are both just too stubborn. Well, Lilly is. James would marry her right there and then.

"Thanks again, (y/n), you know I can't handle him. Especially not in the mornings." I just smirk, nodding.

But my smirk is wiped off my tired face as soon as I catch a glimpse of Remus. Remus Lupin. Aka the death of me. Those brown locks and shy smile drive me mad. Sure I didn't tell anybody, everyone would make fun of me for it. Just like they do with Potter and Evans. Besides, I know he doesn't feel the same. He has a huge crush on that Gryffindor Girl that has luscious golden locks and full, pouty lips. It's hopeless, really. But Lilly has other plans as she drags me with her, right up to the Marauders.

"Good morning, beautiful Lilly-flower. How did you sleep?" There's the reason why I'm here.

"Shut it Potter, not today." Lilly mutters as she sits down opposite him and pulls me down next to her. Her small blush obvious to everyone. I sit down. Right next to Remus. I try not to show my excitement. Or how nervous I've gotten all of a sudden. And definitely not turn toward him.

It must have been too forced which is why Sirius sends a smirk my way. I raise an eyebrow in return.

“Why so tense, (Y/N)? Can’t handle the beauty in front of you? You seem overwhelmed-“

“Actually, let me stop you right there, Sirius. Nothing of the above.” Remus chuckles next to me but it turns into a muffled cough, which catches my attention and I can’t help and turn too look at him. The first time I really do today. And a sense of hurt fills me as I see his scared face. Another rough night. I lift a hand to touch his shoulder but decide against it mid-air.

“Remus, are you alright?” He doesn’t glance back just pokes at his food and still holding a fist to his lips after the cough. He shakes his head and ignores my question. I frown and turn back forward, trying to feel hungry. Actually, trying to feel anything but a void in my stomach. And hurt. He never ignored me. Sure, he is frank sometimes and maybe doesn’t always looks me in the eye when we talk but- he never once ignored me.

“Soo, are we going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” James asks, trying to cut the tension at the table but I can’t hold it in anymore and am scared they will see my glossy eyes.

I shake my head and stand up briefly. “Sorry.” I speed walk down the table and out of the Great Hall. I only stop once I reached the common room and decide to sit on the couch until classes would start. Who needs food anyway. I bury my head in a book and nearly miss to leave for our first class. Potions. Funny enough this is the only class I usually sit next to Remus because James sat next to Lilly the first time. Now I slow down my walk and hope he might have switched seats. When I enter though Remus is glancing around until his eyes land on me. I freeze for a second but gulp down my nerves and take my usual seat next to him.

It’s quite for a while. I don’t look over and he doesn’t say anything. Not even raising his hand when I can clearly see he did his homework and knows the correct answer.

A paper ball lands on his side of the desk which catches my attention. I don’t want to be nosey so I don’t try to read what’s written there. But I get where it must have come from by the look he is sending over to Sirius. Sirius gestures wildly at him, looking stern and I frown until he points over to me and our eyes meet- he quickly whips his hand up and ruffles his hair, sending me an awkward smile with a wave. Then turns back around.

I frown but don’t question it any further, trying to also ignore the eyes I feel on the side of my face. I Scribble down on my parchment but can’t help and notice Remus clearing his throat a couple times. After the third time I sigh and glance up. He’s wringing his fingers below the table and his eyes dart up as he sees me looking up. His eyes growing wide for a second before he sends me a small, uneasy smile.

“Hey.” He whispers. I can’t help but let my gaze linger on the scar below his eye. It looks painful and I quickly relax my face as I notice I’ve been cringing at him.

“Hi.” I reply and have to send a smile back. I can’t stop myself. He does that to me. Goofball. I am about to turn back to our task as he opens his mouth, inhaling- as if to say something. But he stops himself.

I raise a brow at him and wait. “What’s up?” Is add, trying to encourage him to keep going.

“I- I just-“ he smiles down at his hands and turns toward me slightly, “-I wanted to apologize. You probably think I’m absolutely rude and, and insufferable-“

He wants to ramble on but I glance up to the podium to see McGonogall sending us a suspicious look. I turn back to Remus, taking one of his fidgety hands and he stops talking, looking down at our hands.

“Remus, it’s okay. I still like you- let’s get back to work and talk later, alright?” I give him another small smile and he sighs, sending one back, nodding.

It took a short moment longer before I let go off his hand and turn back forward. I shield my warm cheeks from his view with my hair covering them now. The grin on my face suppressed.

___

“So- who’s up for a ride on our magnificent sled this fine evening?” James asks as he rounds the couch of the common room where Lilly and I sit, reading and talking. Our eyes go up to him as Sirius joins his side, throwing an arm over his shoulder and sending us mischievous smile. I roll my eyes and glance over to Lilly who’s sighing. But she wears a smile, her eyes finding mine.

“What do you say?” She asks me and I shrug my shoulders, standing up and throwing the book onto the soft cushioned couch.

“Why not, it’s beautiful outside.”

“Remus is coming as well~” Sirius is singing teasingly as he walks off with James to get ready, but not without winking at me over his shoulder. My eyes grow wide at his remark. Does he know? I tried really hard to hide that crush.

“-(Y/N)? Let’s go, come on.” Lilly pulls me out of my trance and pulls me after her at my sleeve.

“So, what’s that with you and Remus?” She asks, a small grin on her lips.

“What do you mean? Nothings going on.” I reply, maybe too quickly because Lilly sends me another big goofy grin and I roll my eyes, as she rummages through her stuff, throwing a beanie at me and one of her gryffindor scarfs.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She mumbles and we jog back down to the common room, waiting for the boys.

As they join us, James picks up a squealing Lilly and runs ahead. Sirius carries the sleds and nods at us. “See you there, losers.” He runs off as well, yelling after them. Now it’s just Remus and me. Peter needed to rest, he’s been sick for a few days already, enjoying his peace in Madame Pomfrey’s Medical Wing.

“Are you going anywhere special this Christmas?” I ask, trying to cut the tension I felt growing. I loved that we quietly, without saying a word, decided not to run after them. We kept walking normally.

“No, just staying home, what about you?” I bury my hands deep in my pockets as we step outside, the wind instantly blowing across our skin.

“No, neither do we. My grandparents are coming over this year tho, so- that will be interesting.” I mumble and he chuckles, I glance up at him.

“I couldn’t hear what you were saying.” I realize I’ve talked into my scarf and push it down a little, my face now warm anyway.

“Hey! Watch out-“ I can’t even look at the source of the voice when a snowball hits me right on the cheek. I stumble, squeezing my eyes shut but Remus holds me before I slip.

I blink my eyes open, Remus wiping at my cheek, frowning. “Are you alright?” I nod quickly, staring into his warm eyes.

“Guys, come on!” Sirius whines and runs over.

“Seriously, be more careful Sirius.” Remus mumbles, quite annoyed as he turns to him, his hand leaving my hair, where he had also tried to get the snow wiped away.

“Aw, are you mad I threw snow at your girlfriend?” He smirks and folds his arms. I stare at the icy ground now and Remus says something under his breath while bending down and collecting a pile of snow, Sirius quickly runs off and giggles. Remus runs after him, holding his beanie as it’s slipping off.

“Get back here, Black!”

I hide my smile behind the scarf and walk toward where Lilly is watching James, who seems to struggle with a spell. He rearranged his glasses, his cheeks slightly tinted pink as he sends a shy smile over to Lilly. “I nearly got it.”

“Hey, why aren’t you sledding yet?” I ask as I join Lilly’s side.

“James wanted to make the sled bigger so- more people could fit on. But-“

“-I nearly got it, okay?” He clears his throat again and gulps. He gets so flustered, trying to prove himself to Lilly. It’s absolutely adorable. “Enlargio!”

I take a step back and Lilly follows suit. The sled grows in size, not too much either. Well, I guess successful?

“See?” He smirks and gestures toward his accomplishment. Lilly claps, her mittens muting the sound.

“Well done, you mighty wizard.” I add and he glares over, taking a pile of snow quickly. I hold my hands up.

“Sorry, sorry, please don’t- I already got enough snow in my face for today.” He chuckles and we look over to Remus still running after Sirius, he finally tackles him to the ground and pushes a snowball into Sirius’ face. We all laugh at the scene and walk over, up the hill.

“Hey, let poor Sirius go, I think he learned his lesson.” Lilly states and I nod, smirking at Remus as he stands up, out of breath, just as Sirius.

The latter stands up too, wiping himself off the snow and flares at Remus.

“What was that for anyway?” James asks and Sirius smirks through his white lashes.

“Yeah, Remus, what for?”

“I just- just don’t be so rude to-“

“-to, (Y/N)?” Sirius finishes for him and I roll my eyes, Remus sighing.

“Yes.” He grits out and I raise a brow at them both. They are standing now, facing each other again, Remus looking ready to throw another snowball if Sirius kept talking. And Sirius- well he just doesn’t know when to stop.

“Why don’t you just tell her that you like her? Maybe then I’ll stop.” He grabs more snow and strides my way, throwing a look over his shoulder at Remus. I shriek and turn, running away. But I am no way as fast as he is. He grabs me around my waist with one arm and lifts me up, laughing as I try to wriggle free. He holds his other hand close to my face, turning us to face the others.

“Come on Remus, you know what to do-“

“Sirius, stop, I’m gonna get sick-“

“I like her, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Don’t tell me, Remus, tell her-“ Sirius turns me further and I stop struggling, looking at Remus. He seems in conflict but shuts is eyes for a moment. When he looks back at me he gulps and steps forward.

“I- I really like you. A lot.” I want to throw my scarf and beanie off, that’s how hot I got and run toward him. Telling him I feel the same. But before I can even say anything I feel cold snow. My eyes back closed. I step on his foot now causing Sirius to finally let me go.

Remus is by my side once again and helps me with the snow. “I’ll kill him.” He whispers and runs his thumb across my cheek.

“You may. But- not without-“ I lean up and holds his face as I press a kiss to his lips. Brief but all I needed to tell him I return the feelings. He smiles down at me, his face now warm and eyes lingering on my lips and back up my eyes.

“I’ll be right back.” He adds quietly and runs around me, Sirius not noticing at first so they both stumble to the ground and throw snow at each other.

Lilly walks up and James follows suit. “Well, that took longer than expected- I owe Peter 5 galleons now.” I whip my head toward him and frown, he looks back at me, startled. “Did I say that out loud?” I nod at him. “Oh oh.” He turns around and runs off, me hot on his heels and Lilly joins me.

“Come back here, Potter!”

_________________________________

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[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Paper Cut Part 2 | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Making out/kissing

Time/Era: Modern AU but the Pevensies have been to Narnia. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Y/N confronts Edmund about the intense injuries she had received in the past. 

A/N: Here’s the second part to paper cut :) If you haven’t read the first part, link below! Please send requests :D Enjoy! 

Part 1 | Part 3 | masterlist | read on ao3

“Edmund, I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Edmund’s face was unreadable, almost as if it was made of stone. He stayed quiet; the only sounds that filled the air were the shuffling of the barista and the espresso machine. Y/N wished he would just say something. The silence was damning. 

“Edmund?” His gaze didn’t falter at his name but stayed glued to Y/N’s hand. His eyes traveled up her arm, taking mental notes of every scar, bruise, bump, or cut. Edmund stood up without a word, the chair making a painful screeching noise in his path, and walked out of the coffee shop. 

Meeting her soulmate had been completely different in her head; maybe they would fall into each other’s arms in the streets of London. He would sweep her off of her feet after noticing a small scar on her neck and say something disgustingly romantic. “I’ve been waiting for you, Y/N, you’re even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” Then, they would fall madly, deeply in love, and adopt a dog. Fall wedding perhaps? Maybe summer? But here Y/N sat, one hand on her stomach, the other gripping a foreign notebook. Before Y/N could process what was happening, Edmund was out of sight and she was left to her own thoughts. 

~

“Y/N! Wake up!” Y/N was startled by Y/B/F/N shaking her awake. “Don’t you have a final in like an hour?” 

That sentence felt like a bucket of ice water. Y/N sprung up from her warm bed and scrambled to get ready. The clock seemed to run dangerously fast and by the time she opened the door of her lecture hall, the test was being passed out. 

“You have three hours and because I’m in such a good mood, you may use your study guide.” The professor continued to pass the packets around the room. They looked thick and time-consuming. Time management had never been Y/N’s strong suit. 

When she was handed her paper, all she could do was take a deep breath. This professor was a harsh grader, so unless her answers were 100% correct, there was no way Y/N would pass. She took the unfamiliar notebook she received from Edmund out of her bag and opened it to his scribbled notes. 

His handwriting was somewhere in between messy and neat; some of the words ran into one another and they were all slanted to the right slightly, yet the letters were beautifully constructed and entirely intelligible. Edmund also took it upon himself to highlight passages he deemed important with a note at the beginning that read: my sister had to take o chem. I asked her what’s important. That was sweet, Y/N thought. 

It seemed as if Edmund knew what he was talking about, too. Each answer was answered completely with further background information to make it easy to understand. Why would you willingly take this? Seems like hell… was written in the margins next to one of the boxes of text. I could say the same about law, sweater boy. 

By the time Y/N had finished her final, the three hours had turned into 10 minutes. She was one of three students left in the classroom and the other two were looking beyond panicked. Most of the class seemed to have either blazed through it like it was an 8-year-old’s math homework or given up halfway through and accepted their loss. Y/N, however, had to pass this class so she triple-checked her answers, took a daydream break, then checked it again. She would be lying if she said her daydreams didn’t consist of Edmund. She wondered if he would ever text her again. 

The young girl hurriedly walked out of the classroom, happy to be done with the semester. She wrapped her jacket tightly around her and braced herself to brave the aggressive weather. 

“Hey,” A voice from her right called out. It was Edmund; he was leaning against the wall lazily. His nose was a bright pink, as were his cheeks, and his hands were pushed into his pockets for warmth.

“Edmund? What are you doing here? You must be freezing!” Y/N walked over to him and looked him once over. A simple long sleeve shirt, vest, and jeans. Y/N slung her wool scarf around his neck. 

“Oh, uh, thanks…” He pushed himself off of the wall with his shoulder. Damn, his shoulders were huge. 

“I’m sorry about the coffee shop, I didn’t mean to jump you like that,” Y/N apologized bashfully. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“No, I get it. I would have the same reaction. That’s, uh, why I’m here.” Edmund was awkward, looking anywhere but her eyes. Instead, he observed her freckles, eyebrows, and cheeks. “I was wondering if we could, uh, talk? Maybe somewhere private? Like my dorm?”

“Oh, so you want to take me, your newly discovered soulmate, back to your dorm?” Y/N had a hint of mischief in her eyes and a teasing smile on her lips. Edmund’s eyes grew wide and he started to sputter. 

“That’s not what I meant! I would never! I mean unless you wanted to, but no! I just meant to talk,” His cheeks are red again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. 

“I’m just taking the piss, let’s go, vesty.”

~ 

Edmunds dorm was not what she was expecting. One side looked like it was hit by a tornado, but the other was very organized. Even on the floor, there was a distinct division between the two sides. The neat side, which appeared to be Edmund’s, was very plain. His bed was made with a red duvet and black pillows, his desk was blank besides a small pencil cup, and the cork board hanging above his desk had reminders and pictures. 

“Those are my siblings,” Edmund noticed Y/N’s wandering eyes. “They’re practically dying to meet you, Y/N.”

“How did you know my name? I never told you,” She crossed her arms and strained her neck to look back at him. 

“Ah, so I was right, you don’t remember me. We took a few classes together during first and second years. I always thought you were cute, so I guess it stuck.” Now it was Y/N’s turn to blush. 

“You think I’m cute?” Her arms uncrossed and turned so she was facing him head-on. 

“Well, yeah. You are my soulmate, after all, Y/N. Don’t be silly,” Edmund seemed to be growing more and more comfortable. He was enjoying watching her blush because of what he said; it made a sense of pride grow in his stomach. This was his person, and she was standing right in front of him. 

“Speaking of soulmates…” Y/N trailed off and looked towards the floor. Her hands grasp the zipper of her jacket and unzip it, before rolling up the bottom of her shirt. The jagged scar was on full display, a stark contrast against the skin of her abdomen. Edmund eyed it guiltily; he knew the exact pain she had to go through to get that scar. She had to go through that pain because of him. His own hands found the bottom seam of his own clothes and pulled it up to reveal a matching mark. 

“I can explain but you won’t believe me,” His honey-brown eyes met hers. 

“Try me, Pevensie.” 

He led her to sit on her bed and sat next to her. Y/N hastily kicked off her shoes so she could sit with her legs crossed on her bed. Her shoes tumbled to the ground with two thuds. Edmund, on the other hand, just bent one leg and let the other hang off the edge. He took her hands in his. 

“You have to promise me to listen to it all before you ask questions,” Edmund fidgeted nervously with a ring on Y/N’s fingers as they spoke. Y/N didn’t know if this was on purpose or a subconscious action, but it comforted her all the same.  

“Well, when I was young my parents sent my siblings and me to live away from home. When we were there, my little sister Lucy discovered a wardrobe in one of the spare rooms. Well, inside the wardrobe was this beautiful land called Narnia. It was gorgeous and huge! And when I say huge, I mean HUGE!” He caught himself rambling excitedly and reeled it back in. “Well, uh, anyway, there was this woman, we called her the White Witch and she manipulated me into basically selling my siblings out. The entire nation of Narnia got into a huge battle and the White Witch stabbed me.” 

“Did she lock you up somewhere cold?” Y/N asked, disregarding her promise to stay quiet. 

“Um, yeah. She locked me in this big ice cell. It wasn’t fun. I’m pretty sure I almost got frostbite but my body rejected it because I started warming up randomly.”

Y/N smiled. The paper towel. 

“But that scar on your stomach,” He took his hand away from yours and gently touched your stomach. “Is because she stabbed me. But again, my sister Lucy had this special liquid that could heal any injury.” 

Edmund seemed to smile at the memory. “Long story short, my siblings and I got crowned Kings and Queens of Narnia and ruled for a number of years. We then got sent back-”

“Wait, wait, wait, Kings, and Queens? Who are you? Alexander the Great?” Her tone was teasing and unbelieving. 

“Edmund the Just, actually. And I told you to listen!” His smile reached his eyes this time. “Well we came back to earth through the wardrobe and we were kids again! About a year later, we returned to Narnia and met our good friend Caspian. We had to fight Caspian’s home country. In the end, Aslan helped us and Caspian became a king as well.”

“Who’s Aslan?” Y/N was doing her best to keep up and believe the information, but it was quite hard. 

“He’s a big lion, he’s kind of like the ruler of Narnia. I guess you could say a God? I guess…”

“A big lion god? Edmund…”

“I know it sounds crazy, Y/N. I know but you have to believe me! I went one more time with Lucy and my cousin. We were on a big Naval ship with Caspian and we had to find a bunch of swords-”

“Edmund, love, just tell me the truth.” Y/N was sad that right off the bat her soulmate was lying to her. Edmund’s eyes seemed to lose their sparkle. 

“I would never lie to you, Y/N. Here, look.” He took off Y/N’s scarf and gently placed it on the bed before pulling his vest and shirt over his head. On his rips was a beautifully drawn tattoo of a lion that appeared to be roaring. And on his collarbone was a sword. Y/N delicately reached her hand out and ran her fingertips against the drawing of the weapon. It had insane detail and the way it was drawn made it look sharp. Y/N retracted her hand and sat back. 

“That’s one of the swords we found during my third trip. It was gifted to Caspian by the lord who owned it. And this is Aslan. His roar was the most powerful magic in all of Narnia.” Edmund searched Y/N’s face for any emotion she was feeling. Right now, she was staring at the sword with a pondering look on her face. 

“Okay, say you were a king-”

“I am a king.”

“Fine, you’re a king. What exactly did you do, ya know, as a ruler?”

“Well, me and my brother Peter ran the army and trained them for battle. Along with other things like managing trade and creating political policies.”

“So, fighting? You fight?”

“Yeah, I fought in many battles, big and small. I got stabbed, remember.” His smile was cheeky and he pulled his long sleeve back on. “Once I got good, I didn’t even use a shield. I fought with two swords.”

“TWO? Aren’t those things heavy?”

“Well, yes, but when you went through all of the training I did, it gets easier.” Edmund could tell he was starting to believe him. 

“Tell me more.”

~

The two spent the next few hours discussing the ins and outs of Narnia down to the floor plan of Cair Paravel. Y/N had decided that Edmund had way too much detail to be making it up, and even if he did, it was so magical that she wouldn’t even be mad. 

“Okay, vesty, I believe you.” Y/N says after Edmund gave a lengthy explanation about all the gifts his siblings received and what they do. He stopped mid-word and stared at her. 

“You believe me? Really?” 

Y/N smiled and nodded. “Yes, Edmund. I’m going to be spending my life with you, your highness, so I may as well get familiar with it.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Edmund scooted closer to her. “I hated it even when people in Narnia called me that. I don’t need people outside of Narnia calling me it. Especially not you.” 

She turned her head so she was staring right at him. “Why not me?” Y/N’s speech came out as a whisper. They were so close that she didn’t need to speak loudly. 

“Because if I really was your highness, it would be kind of weird for me to do this.”

Edmund placed a hand on Y/N’s jaw and leaned in. His lips barely brushed her lips before pressing firmly against them. Y/N’s eyes closed shut and she happily kissed back. 

When people described kissing their soulmate for the first time, they always explain it as an electric spark igniting throughout their entire body. They explain it as a firework show full of magnificent colors. Kissing Edmund didn’t feel like that. Kissing Edmund felt like home. She felt safe, secure, and loved as if kissing this boy was what she was meant to do for her entire life. The way he tasted, like peppermint and candy, was the best thing she had ever tasted. And they way he held her, one hand on her jaw and the other holding her close to him by her waist, felt like the warmth of a favorite blanket. The way he moved made her knees feel like jelly. 

As their lip lock continued, his fingertips danced across her back until it landed on the other side of her jaw. He pulled away from their kiss, pressing a quick peck against her nose and jaw before leaning against his headboard. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for my entire life,” Y/N said, her voice gentle and soft. 

“Me too. The thought of kissing you, Y/N L/N, was the only thing that got me through some tough times. I had to make it to be able to feel what it was like.”

Y/N was silent for a long moment. 

“Edmund, love, do you think I will ever go to Narnia?”

Edmund looked at her for a long moment then smiled with half of his mouth. 

“I don’t know, darling, but anything is possible. Especially when it comes to Narnia.” 

[catte-bard]

FFXIV Write 2021 #13: Oneirophrenia

Urianger in his few months of knowing the pixies felt there were two very important facts about them. They were rather friendly, little creatures. And they were mischievous little devils. Fond of mayhem they were always trying to find little tricks to play on visitors to Il Mheg.

And Urianger was their favourite playmate. The mysterious elf who spoke with a funny voice and who had taken up residence in one the old mortal dwellings. He absolutely delighted them. Mortals never stayed in Il Mheg; they feared the fey and usually tried to pass through quickly when traveling its roads.

Today he had been making notes of the different kinds of flora that bloomed the land. Making quick sketches—though his hand wasn’t as talented as young Master Alphinaud’s—as well as jotting notes down about them.

Fascinating, it was all incredibly fascinating. He had theorized that Il Mheg must be somewhere geographically where Ishgard is on the Source. And yet it  possessed a completely different clime. 

He had been studying the plant life, curious to see if there were any similarities to those on his home shard. However, much of the flora seemed to have evolved in its own way separate from those on the Source. Which he supposed would make sense. The First’s history had been carved out in a different path from the Source. It had experienced its own eras, its own disasters, tragedies, and other impactful events. And so the flora and fauna and even the landscape itself would’ve adapted differently. 

“Urianger!” A chipper voice suddenly popped into existence. 

“Good morning to thee, Kenn Beq.” Urianger hummed as he scribbled something down in his journal about the tree he was resting under.

“What are you doing this time?” Kenn Beq asked, flitting close to look over his shoulder. “Oh what pretty pictures! Uri likes flowers! Lemme see! Lemme see! Don’t be shy now!”

And with a flick of their wrist, Urianger’s journal was suddenly lifted out of his hands and into the air. The Archon let out a noise of protest. It seemed the pixies were in a mischievous mood today.

 “Kenn Beq.” Urianger fiercely said as if reprimanding a child. “Return that at once.”

They merely giggled at him and leafed through the pages. “Oh calm yourself. I only want to look. Oooh, Uri seems to be a scholar as well. Kenn Sul, come look!” They then called and another pixie popped forth.

Kenn Sul and Kenn Beq were perhaps the equivalent of twins in the world of mortals. The other pixies explained that the pair had been “born” together. And thus the two of them together were the source of much mayhem.

In truth, Urianger always found them rather endearing. Perhaps, reminded of another set of twins he knew well; and thus tolerated their presence. However, today he was in no mood to entertain these two.

“Oooh, how pretty!” Kenn Sul fawned. “You should have told us you liked flowers, Uri.”

He sighed. “Aye, I wish to learn more about thou’s land. And I’ve found the best way to learn about one’s surroundings is to observe the plant life. Now if you would be so kind.” And he stretched out his hand, waiting for his book to be returned to him.

The twins shared a look. And he did not like the smirks on their faces. The pixies were like children, he’d decided—very naughty children. Always scheming something wicked.

“Oh fine.” Kenn Beq agreed and sent the book floating back down to him. 

“Uri, if you like flowers we can lead you to some very special ones!” Kenn Sul then said. “Ones that aren’t in your pretty book yet!”

Kenn Beq clapped their hands together in excitement. “Yes, yes! Oh I love those! I would love to see them in your book!”

Urianger eyed them warily. Wisely wondering if the two were up to any tricks. One had to be careful when trusting a pixie. Sometimes they were honest creatures and sometimes they would lead you straight into the jaws of a hungry draco. 

And these two were no exception. Nay they were much worse!

“I am too busy for games, my friends.” He shook his head. “Mayhaps another time.”

And Kenn Sul made a stomping motion in the air, crossing their arms. “But it is no game. We mean it!”

“Yes!” Kenn Beq added. “There is a flower patch on the far end of Il Mheg that we know you want to...to sturdy? No that’s not the right word for it? Um Kenn Sul, what was it scholars like Uri did again?”

“I believe it was study.” Their twin offered. “Oh you were quite close!”

Kenn Beq did a twirl in the air at the praise before turning their attention back to Urianger. “Come, come! We’ll show you. And if it’s a rotten trick of ours then you’re free to cuff Kenn Sul across the head a few times as punishment.”

And with that Kenn Beq flitted off.

“H-hey!” Their sibling called after them as they followed. “Why do I have to take the brunt of the blame?!”

Urianger sighed; he could just stay here and return to his studies. Perhaps even return to the Bookman’s Shelves for a lunch. But he felt the twins would take offense to that. They would come pester him until he agreed to come with them on their little adventure. And if not that, they certainly would find a cruel trick to play on him.

And so against his better judgement, he tucked his journal under his arm and followed the tittering fey.

“See Uri!” Kenn Sul proudly announced when they had arrived at their destination. 

The pixies flew excited circles around him, pointing at a cluster of shrubs with bright purple flowers blooming on them. Indeed he had never seen these flowers on his travels before. And drew closer out of curiosity. Upon closer inspection he found the flowers’ petals were also speckled with yellow like little freckles. And the flowers themselves were about the size of his entire hand.

“How fascinating.” The Archon hummed and opened his journal to take notes. “And what are these called?”

Kenn Beq came flitting up to rest upon his shoulder. “The mortals that lived here long ago had a name for them—I don’t remember what it was though. We pixies however call them Dreaming-While-Awakes.”

An odd name. He’d have to poor through the tomes at his home to see if he could discover its proper one.

“Are they poisonous? Or dangerous at all?” Urianger tilted his head. He knew many flowers were deceptively beautiful and here and the land of fey one could never be too careful. Just the other day a pixie had warned him to stay away from a cotton-like plant that was said to sting like nettles despite its soft appearance. 

“No.” Kenn Beq said, casually swaying their legs. “We’ve never seen it harm mortals before.”

He nodded and assuming Kenn Beq’s knowledge could be trusted, he made note of the observation in his journal. And out of curiosity reach out to touch one of the soft looking petals. 

The moment his finger brushed against the petal the flower shuddered and sprayed out a cloud of what he assumed to be some kind of mist or pollen. And then it closed up at once, curling itself into a tight little bud.

Urianger startled, coughing and hacking on the strange concoction it had assaulted him with. The smell was absolutely horrendous, it burned his throat and made his eyes water.

Faintly he could hear the twins laughing at him. Accursed little imps! He should have known better! However, before he could berate them for their trickery, they quickly flew off.

Whatever ailed him seemed to finally dissipate after a few agonizing minutes, though Urianger still suffered from its effects. Do not rub your eyes. It could spread the irritant and damage sight. His studies reminded him. And so he kept his hands away from his face.

It took a moment, but the burning seemed to abate to a more tolerable level. He paused for a moment, doing a mental well-being check. He didn’t seem ill or in any pain—the only thing plaguing him were eyes and a slight headache. But otherwise he didn’t seem to be in any danger.

It seemed Kenn Beq had not lied in that regard. The spray probably was some sort of defense mechanism for the plant. To keep itself from being eaten. He made a note of this within his journal before turning to head home.  

During the walk back he did not encounter Kenn Beq or Kenn Sul again. The pair of them smartly staying away from him while his anger was still hot. On the morrow they’d probably come bearing gifts of apology, usually polished stones from the river that they thought were pretty. 

And so his walk had gone undisturbed. However, about halfway he had to pause. The throbbing in his head had grown steadily worse. Going from a dull ache to a full on piercing pain. A side effect from the flower?

He groaned, clutching at his head with a hand. He winced at the sun beating down on him. was it always so bright? It made him feel nauseated under its beating warmth. Had that flower been poisonous? 

Gods, above he felt so dizzy—the world was spinning and— 

“You alright love?”

 A voice snapped him from whatever was ailing him. 

“You’re not looking too good. What tried to drink Thancred under the table? Though I have to say that’s not a very hard feat to accomplish.”

That voice…

His head still ached and he had to squint through the bright sunlight at the figure before him. It couldn’t be and yet...it sounded like her. It...it looked like her.

He could feel himself trembling as his lips parted to form her name. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.

Yet there she stood grinning at him, hands propped on her hips. “Come on then, up you go.” She insisted. “We need to get back home;?don’t want to be out here in the dark, do you?”

Finally. Finally he had the strength to form her name on his tongue. “Moenbryda?” He whispered incredulously.

She cocked her head. “Were you expecting someone else?” 

Once again he was left speechless. How? How was this possible? This had to be a trick! Some cruel, cruel trick done by the pixies. He felt angry. He felt sorrow he thought he buried welling up within him again.

Abruptly, Moenbyrda’s smile fell and was replaced by an expression of concern. “Are you alright, love?” She asked moving forward to cup his face between her hands. And Urianger was surprised to find her touch warm. So real.

“How…” Urianger managed to find his voice. And he could feel tears misting in his eyes. “How are you here?”

Moenbryda seemed surprised and even offended at that. “Urianger...I’ve always been with you. Don’t you remember?” A frown furrowed her brow as she placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Hmph, that flower must’ve done a number on you, eh? You’re positively burning up. Come on, let’s go back home and prep some tea. That always makes you feel better.”

“But…” Urianger began to protest. 

“Hush my dear.” Moenbryda told him and patted him on the cheek. “It’s all going to be okay. You just need to rest.”

Something in her words seemed to soothe him. The emotions rattling within him stilled. And suddenly he felt so tired.

“Right...right.” He murmured, feeling dazed and let her lead him back home. 

This felt strange. Like it shouldn’t be happening. And yet...her hands had felt so real against his cheeks. Her fingers felt so real as they entwined with his. And her voice, her sweet voice—he could never mistake it. It was her.

And yet it couldn’t be. Back and forth his mind warred like that. Illogical and logical fighting to dominate his mind which right now felt as if a fog had settled over it. 

 It didn’t feel right but Moen had promised all was well. And well...he trusted her.

They had made it to the Rising Stones.

 Wait...that’s not right. Is it?

He couldn’t ponder on it much longer before Moenbryda dragged him inside. She had settled down at a table and quickly shooed him away, insisting that he start a kettle for them.

“And why am I making the tea when it was thee whom suggested it?” Urianger had asked.

And Moenbryda grinned that wonderful smile of hers. Wry and filled with mischief. “Because you need something to occupy your mind, silly thing. You’ve walked the whole way here with a blank look on your face like your head was suddenly empty.” She teased. “You need something to do to get that brain of yours working again.”

He merely shook his head and wandered over to the stove to prepare the tea. Cheeky. She was always so cheeky. And that was one of the things he loved most about her.

The thought tugged at something at the back of his mind. And the dizzy spell that had ailed him earlier had suddenly returned. The elezen had to lean against the nearby wall for a moment to get his bearings. Why was he feeling so nauseous all of a sudden?

“Is everything alright, Urianger?” he heard Moenbryda call out to him. “You haven’t been acting well since that incident with that flower. Funny thing must be messing with your head.”

“Yes...the flower.” He murmured and clutched at his head. Something about that was making his head throb again. What had Kenn Beq called it? Something wasn’t right.  “The Rising Stones. How...did we get here? We were just in Il Mheg.”

“We walked here, obviously. Are you feeling okay?”

No. Not at all. Something...something wasn’t right.

“I am fine.” Urianger reassured, shaking his head to clear it. And with trembling hands he turned his attention back to his task. Right...he needed to put the kettle on to warm the water— 

Two cups of tea sat before him. Warm and with steam rising up from them. How? Had he already brewed it and just wasn’t paying attention?

“Uri!” Moenbryda called impatiently. “Are you going to hog it all for yourself?”

He pushed down the nauseated feeling rising within him and turned to carry the cups to his waiting companion. This was nice. How long had it been since the two of them enjoyed a nice tea and chat together? 

Again the tugging at his mind came. The flower. Il Mheg. Sitting here in the Rising Stones didn’t seem to fit with it. His sluggish mind swept it away. Focus on tea with Moen not that.

The two of them chatted pleasantly. Reminiscing  in old memories and recounting stories of their time after graduating the Studium. It was a pleasant time and Urianger felt he had not had genuine laughter in so long. 

He couldn’t help but to feel he was forgetting something though. Something that kept nagging at the back of his mind. It had been tugging on him ever since meeting Moenbryda again.

There was something about her. Something about this day. This very moment. And every time he tried to focus on it he was left feeling dizzy.

“Mm you always made the finest tea, Urianger.” Moenbryda praised as she took a long sip. Knocking it back as if it were a tankard of ale. “Always could taste the care you put into it.”

“Preparing tea is an art.” Urianger replied as he took his own sip. Puzzlement welled up within him. His tasted so plain. Had he put enough herbs in it? “Master Loiusoix taught me that important lesson. “

Moenbryda hummed. “You were always his favourite.”

He set his foul tea aside, no longer having the taste for it. “Do not pretend that he never had a fondness for thee.”

She merely shrugged at that and crossed one leg over the other. “Do you miss him?”

The question seemed out of nowhere and surprised Urianger. He scowled and looked down at his lap. “Aye.” He admitted. “Every day, I long for his wisdom and his guidance. For there are some days where I oft wonder if I am taking the right steps. And if I am taking them down the right path.”

Moenbryda hummed thoughtfully. “And me? Do you miss me?”

That question was odd that it made him jerk his head up to see...her fading. 

“Moen?” He whispered in worry.

She was fading. Fading away again.

Something...something was wrong. He felt hot all over and that piercing pain in his head from earlier had returned.

“Moen…” Urianger reached out to grasp her hands. “Moenbryda, what is wrong?!” Desperation made his voice hoarse.

And his dear friend  stared at him sadly. And yet she smiled. “Ah told you that silly flower was messing with your head.”

The flower? Yes...yes he remembered now. The fog was slowly lifting and his head was clearer.

Kenn Beq had called something peculiar…Dreaming-While-Awake.

“This isn’t real.” He admitted to himself.

“No.” Moenbryda beamed. “But at least it was nice while it lasted.”

He stared at her sadly and when to grab her hand this time his fingers brushed through it. He closed his eyes with a grimace. Of course, he should’ve known better. Known that such a perfect moment could only exist within the confines of his mind.

“Oh don’t be sad, dear.” Moenbryda consoled. “I told you before, I’ve always been with you.”

“Yes…” He agreed, closing his hand into a fist and looking down at the table. “But only within mine dreams.”

“And within your heart.” She told him. 

“And within mine heart.” He repeated solemnly. “I suppose it does answer thine question though. ” He murmured, looking up at the empty air where she’d once been. “I do miss thee terribly.”

When he came out of the strange vision, Urianger found himself lying in a field. Likely somewhere in between where the flowers had been and the Bookman’s Shelves. He hadn’t seemed to travel far in his stupor.

He groaned, wincing at the piercing pain in his skull. Now seeming a thousand times worse with him being awake. He awoke feeling sweaty and hot. And when  he tried to stand he instantly regretted it, forced back to his knees as he retched up the contents of his stomach. 

Twelve, allow me strength to make it back home.

This would be the last time he trusted the fey on botanistic excursions.

Journal Entry No. 63

Dreamer’s Neem (the the pixies seem to dub it Dreaming-While-Awake)

A beautiful looking flower that grows to about the size of a grown Elezen male’s hand. A light shade of purple and dappled with yellow freckles it seems to grow on shrubs in isolated patches around Il Mheg. 

As a defense mechanism against creatures that would try to prey upon it, the plant sprays the aggressor with an agitating powder before closing in on itself. It should be noted that this powder contains a very potent hallucinogenic agent that causes truly powerful visions that seem to affect all the senses.

The former human inhabitants seemed to have used the flower for recreational purposes. Similar to the use of milkweed on the Source. It should be noted however, that while the plant may not be deadly it is best to avoid it. The effects of its defensive powder could prove to be overwhelming to individuals not familiar with the plant.

It should also be well noted that an individual exposed should be given cool water and broth for the rest of the day. The after effects of the hallucinations may leave them weak of stomach. And solid foods could agitate their condition.

Have care for thee whom wouldst seek out this plant. For the vision it offers may not always be pleasant. Speaking from mine own experience it was rather tame. Though other accounts I hath read indicate more nightmarish experiences. How lucky I was in mine own…

[jinmukangwrites]

Since we’re focusing on Hyrule for now—You might’ve heard of this hc— but I love the hc that Hyrule can’t read, since he grew up in a cave and all, and like someone like Twi or Warriors having to teach him. Twi since I’m the TP manga he’s a bookworm and it’s just fitting for Warriors to be a reader :pp

There's a presence over Twilight's shoulder. It's not a malicious one, nothing filled with ill-intent, so Twilight simply licks his finger and turns the page of his book, the pages glowing in the light of the campfire.

Soon enough, Hyrule settles down next to him, close enough to eavesdrop into the book but not enough to be touching. The younger hero simply breathes besides him, staring at the book with narrowed yet curious eyes.

Twilight can't help a smile. He turns to Hyrule, closing the book slightly. "I can lend it to you later," Twilight offers. "You'll spoil yourself if you read from my shoulder."

Then, Hyrule gives a jolt and his eyes open like saucers. A twinge if sadness pangs Twilight's heart as Hyrule scrambles to his feet and looks like his hand has been caught in a jar of sweets. His hand flies to the back of his neck and Twilight puts all of his willpower into not frowning.

"N-no, it's alright," Hyrule says, chuckling in a way that screams that he's nervous as hell. "I was just curious... That's all."

Then, before Twilight can say a thing more Hyrule is turning tail and rushing to the other side of camp, his shoulders practically touching his reddened ears.

Twilight turns to Four, who's leaning against a tree and picking at his nails while he watched the entire exchange.

Four shrugs, and Twilight allows himself to frown.

-o-o-o-o-

He sneaks the book onto Hyrule's pillow the next night while the boys went off with Wind to gather firewood. Twilight finished the entire thing the day before, reading whenever he could as fast as he could. He thinks Hyrule would enjoy it. It's a story about hardships and kindness and light triumphant over shadow.

He hopes Hyrule will like it.

He sits at the campfire, helping Wild chop mushrooms—his slices uneven and sloppy but Wild doesn't seem to really care at the moment—when Hyrule and Wind finally return. They go through all of dinner without Hyrule noticing his surprise, and Twilight's stomach clenches ever more with each passing second in impatience.

Then finally, finally, the sun sets. Everyone goes their ways towards their sleeping places and Twilight watches discreetly from his blankets as Hyrule pauses over his sleeping space, green eyes widening as he slowly bends down and picks up. His eyes flicker to Twilight and Twilight closes his eyes for a second, giving Hyrule the illusion that he's asleep.

A few seconds pass, and then Twilight reopens his eyes to find Hyrule curled up in his blankets with his back towards Twilight.

The book is set carefully on top of a traveling bag, untouched.

And Twilight once again finds himself frowning.

-o-o-o-o-

The next morning, Hyrule approaches him while Twilight is refilling his canteen in the river. Curious, Twilight turns and finds that the two of them are practically alone, the next closest person being Sky who's chatting with Warriors further down stream. Hyrule is holding the book out towards Twilight, his face looking nervous and apologetic.

"You don't want to read it?" Twilight asks gently and quietly, looking at the extended book to Hyrule's face.

Hyrule bites his lip then shakes his head. "I can't read it."

And Twilight is an idiot. He has forgotten that language might have carried hero to hero with a few minor changes here and there, but the writing and lettering seems to have changed drastically with each new hero and each new era. He quickly reaches forward and takes back the book.

"Goddesses, I'm sorry traveler," Twilight apologizes, cursing himself for forgetting that, "I should have remembered that our script is different."

"It's not different," Hyrule says quickly, looking apologetic himself, and when Twilight flashes him a confused look Hyrule bites his lip. "It's um... Well I think it might be different, b-but it's not your fault. I ah... I just can't read."

Twilight's brain stops for a moment and restarts when Hyrule launches into his own apologies.

"A-actually a lot of people from my era can't read. Books were destroyed by the demon king Ganon and his minions centuries ago and, um, people had to isolate themselves to survive. I practically grew up in a cave and on the move... No time to teach myself to read, you know?"

Twilight looks down at the book in his hands and thinks of the story within it. And he understands. It's a miracle in itself that Twilight knows how to read. It's only because Rusl humored him enough to give him a few lessons and a few books. In a village miles from the castle where the most concerning thing is normally just the constant fear if goat escapes, not many people really bother to learn to read.

Twilight remembers being able to read his first ever book, looking at the scribbles and tracing his fingers over the letters in the setting light of the sun through his balcony window. He had to sound the words out loud to himself, and he stumbled a lot, but it was so exciting to find himself reaching cover to cover with just a small list of words he couldn't figure out.

He has so many books now. He plans on getting more.

Hyrule never got that experience, he's never had the option to.

And Twilight... finds that so sad.

So he tightens his fingers around the book and smiles at Hyrule, who's awkwardly shuffling his feet at the ground, cheeks and ears red in embarrassment once again.

"Would you like to learn?"

Hyrule's eyes shoots up to Twilight, his mouth opening in shock.

"W-would you?" Hyrule asks, not sounding like he quite believes he's heard the offer Twilight gave him.

And Twilight beams, excitement fluttering in his gut at the thought of giving Hyrule something he cherishes so much.

"Of course. We can start tonight," he replies, taking the book in his hands and holding it out again. "If you want?"

Hyrule takes the book like he's holding something precious and fragile, folding it gently to his chest. "I would love that," he whispers.

Suddenly, a voice calls out from behind them. Time walks towards the river, with the words that it's time to get a move on.

Twilight returns his attention to Hyrule, feeling giddy and hoping it shows just how giddy on his face. "I'm glad," he says, ruffling Hyrule's hair.

Hyrule laughs and halfheartedly whacks his hand away, keeping the book to his chest. Then, they rejoin the others together, thoughts of nothing but letters and sounds running through Twilight's head, excitement making a home in his chest.

[horansqueen]

Stuck With You - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 : Bruises

🡪chapter 1  🡪chapter 2  🡪chapter 3  🡪chapter 4  🡪chapter 5

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

You're not alone in how you've been Everybody loses We all got bruises We all got bruises I would love to fix it all for you (I would love to fix you too)

click here to be on the update list

                                                                                            Although I had tried to talk to Niall plenty of times during the visit, he had ignored me the whole time. I wanted to make things right. I wanted to apologize and have a talk with him, but I couldn't force him into it and I knew I needed to respect it if he didn't want to be near me or listen to my excuses. He didn't have to apologize, he didn't even have to acknowledge me, but fuck, that really hurt me.

I tried to focus on the art exposed in front of me but no matter which painting or sculpture I stood in front of, I ended up thinking it was the expression of pain, loneliness or sadness. I knew it was only my own feelings reflecting on these artists' works and it made me want to run away from here. it made me want to go back to my own painting and finish it... or destroy it, I was not sure.

I noticed Niall was scribbling something in his notebook and walked closer to him. He smelled good, I had noticed that in the car and here, despite the unique smell of the museum, his scent reached my nose and made my heart jump slightly. It reminded me of nature, something like wood or a fire... mixed with the comforting  odor of the forest when it rains. I blinked a few times, realizing how stupid my thoughts where, and instead, I let my eyes roam on his neck. He was close and I knew he could sense my presence but the fact that he was still ignoring me made the hole in my stomach get even bigger.

"Thank you for the ride... by the way." I let out without thinking before mentally hitting myself for such a stupid thing to say.

He had insulted me and I had slapped him but here I was, thanking him for driving me to a place where he was going anyway, with or without me. Still, I noticed the traits of his face soften before his expression changed again. His jaw clenched and he looked mad. I held my breath, still staring at him, and he finally just shrugged.

"Louis made me."

Ouch. This confession was clearly made to hurt me and I hated to admit that it worked. I was mad that Louis would ask Niall that because it made me look like the kind of person who couldn't take care of herself. I knew Louis didn't mean anything mean by it but it still annoyed me more than I would admit, especially to Niall. I also felt genuinely embarrassed that Niall felt like he had to agree to his friend's request and somehow, I had the feeling he had argued with Louis to try and get out of that favor.

I was about to answer something but Daxia appeared and I decided that no matter what I was going to say, it was definitely not worth it. I almost forgot we had an actual paper to write and my grip tightened on the notebook I was holding. Nothing seemed to matter at that point, all I cared about was apologizing to Niall and then locking myself alone, but I knew it was impossible.

"Okay so you two can work on the second part together?" Daxia just said, her face twisting into a sorry smile as she looked at me. My eyes got bigger and I frowned, moving my head from left to right slightly.

"What?"

"Asher and I are just so used to work together I mean, we'll work together on the first part, and you guys can just write a few pages about the surrealist painters that changed the world?"

On one hand, it was an incredible opportunity to talk with Niall but I also knew he was probably going to keep on ignoring me and I wasn't too keen about that. I also felt a bit hurt that the new (and only) friends I had made were rejecting me and literally forcing me to work with someone they didn't really like.

Niall sighed loud next to me and pushed one of his hands in his pocket. I glanced at him and he looked even more annoyed than me.

"Sorry Dev, but hey I'll see you at the party on saturday?" she pointed out, making me frown even more. "We can meet the four of us next week to talk about the rest."

I stood there, next to Niall, as we both kept quiet and after a few seconds, Daxia sent me a small smile and readjusted the backpack on her shoulder before leaving.

"Looks like I'm stuck with you again."

Hearing his voice made my heart twist in my chest and I turned to look at him. He didn't smile at me, barely acknowledging me, and finally just sighed exaggeratedly.

"Alright." he gave in. "I guess we need to go to the library now."

I held my breath when he turned around and I ran a little to catch up with him, following him back to his jeep. I took a seat in but remained silent as he drove. I noticed we were going back to the campus and immediately knew where he was heading. I had only visited the library once, with Louis, a few days before, but we didn't really enter it or anything. I knew I would probably spend a lot of time here anyway so I hadn't insisted but now, I had to admit I was a bit excited to go.

I felt like a kid who didn't know what she was doing but I just followed him inside and waited as he asked for access to the basement and once again followed someone else who opened the door for us. They left us and I heard the sound of a door close behind us but I was too amazed by what I was seeing to think a about it. The couch, the table, the chairs and even the tapestry seemed to come straight from the victorian era and I've always loved how packed those kind of rooms looked. It felt warm and classy at the same time, which was, in my opinion, a rare and intense mix.

"Are you gonna let me do all the work?"

I blinked a few times and turned to look at Niall who was raising his eyebrows at me. I suddenly felt a bit stupid and cleared my throat before nodding. I don't know how long we worked in silence but when I looked at my phone, it was already late and I closed my book with a loud noise, catching his attention again. He looked up from his paper and his eyes met mine, making me press my lips hard together. We hadn't solved anything. In fact, I felt like he was even angrier with me and at that point, I had no idea what I could do about it.

"What time is it?"

I stared in his eyes for a few seconds and finally looked away, feeling slightly embarrassed without really knowing why. Or perhaps it was just him and the effect he had on me, now that he was pissed at me.

"Almost nine thirty."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Funny. Really though, what time is it?"

"I told you. It's almost nine thirty." I repeated with a frown. "Why would I lie about that?"

"Fuck!"

I watching him jump up from his chair and rush to the door. Slowly, I did the same and when I got there, he was hitting hard on the door with the side of his fist and I frowned more.

"Hey, hey, relax!" I let out, grabbing his wrist gently to stop him. "What's wrong with you?"

He turned his head to me and frowned too, shaking his head slightly. "You know this fucking library closes at 8pm, right?" he asked, staring at me and raising his eyebrows.

I felt my heart jump up so high that I felt it in my throat. This couldn't be true, could it? I couldn't be locked in a library with the only guy I knew who despised me more than anything else in the world! My face suddenly changed from confused to scared and he sighed,

"She finally gets it." he mumbled meanly before hitting the door one last time.

"I-It's okay, we can just call someone."

I searched for my phone in my pocket and almost dropped it as I tried to turn it around. When I finally opened the screen, I realized there was no signal. Once again, my heart jumped up but this time, it seemed to drop back in the pit of my stomach. It was a joke, right? I knew it was useless but I still tried to call Louis without success.

"Forget it. Nothing passes here. We're stuck."

He cursed a few times and walked back to the table, letting himself fall back on his chair with a loud sigh. I gave up and let both my arms fall on each sides of me before walking back nonchalantly to my chair, too.

"Fuck, tell me there's a bathroom."

Niall rolled his eyes and pointed a door to me, making my head turn in the direction he pointed before a feeling of relief washed over me. That would have been way too embarrassing for me.

"So, what are we gonna do?" I asked low, licking my lips.

"Starve to death, probably."

I grabbed my bag and pushed my hand inside, trying to find some food and sighed when I pulled out two sandwiches in a bag. I always kept some stuff in my bag just in case and I sighed, searching through my bag again before letting a few chocolates and a bag of candies on the table.

"So there's candies, chocolate, and two peanut butter sandwiches." I pointed out with a sigh. "We can share."

"Haute cuisine." Niall joked, making me chuckle. "Let me check if I have something, too."

He searched through his bag and I felt my lips curl slightly at his sight. He didn't seem as pissed as he was and I liked to believe he was not mad at me anymore. The problem was, Niall seemed to have weird mood swings that I didn't understand and it made him even more fascinating to me, as toxic as it seemed.

Unsurprisingly, he took a water bottle out of his bag and put it between us, on the table.

"That's pretty much it."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes before taking out the sandwiches from the bag and handing him a piece. He stared at it and then looked back in my eyes before sighing and grabbing it from my fingers. I watched him as he pushed half of it in his mouth and started chewing on it. He seemed to evaluate the taste and finally shrugged with a nod and pushed the second part in his mouth.

"I'm gonna have to work out for hours after that meal." he pointed out, grabbing a chocolate and unwrapping it quickly.

"You don't need to work out, you already look good."

I felt my heart skip a few beats at my words and suddenly started seeing spots. I couldn't believe I had told him something like that but instead to laugh, he just shrugged a shoulder.

"I look like that because I work out." he explained, leaning on his chair and putting his feet on the table before crossing his ankles.

I let my eyes roam on his chest, thighs and legs until it reached his blue and yellow snickers and I just cleared my throat, leaning against the back of my chair too.

"I'm sure you'd look good even if you didn't."

"Maybe, I don't know, but it makes me feel good."

I looked up at him just as he was finishing the second piece of his sandwich and I smiled. Who would have thought I'd once again be stuck somewhere with Niall Horan? It had barely been over a week since I had met him and it seemed like destiny wanted us to be locked together somewhere.

"I'm sorry I slapped you, Niall." I let out, feeling my heart beat unsteadily for a few seconds. "I really shouldn't have. And I won't ever do it again."

He started chewing more slowly and finally licked his lips with a sigh, reaching for his pen and scribbling something in his note book, his feet still on the table.

"I'm sorry I yelled all that crap at you. I probably deserved it."

"No, you didn't." I quickly argued. "Physical violence is never the solution."

He looked up in my eyes and his lips curled before he chuckled. "You're really something else, Devon Eaton."

"Uhm, thank you."

Niall rubbed his eyes and sighed and for some reason, I felt like he was about to say something important. I tried to stop moving and I even held my breath until he started playing with his fingers nervously while staring at them. His smile was gone from his face and he looked pensive.

"Look, I get pissed when you mention Louis because... let's just say I had feelings for a girl and he 'stole' her from me." he had made quotation marks with his fingers when he said "stole" and it made me frown. Was that the story Louis had mentioned before?

"Wait, you mean Louis dated the girl you love?"

"Loved. And I wouldn't use the verb 'date'."

I stared at him, noticing he was now looking at me and he finally raised his eyebrows. I immediately understood and my lips parted. "Oh."

"Yea."

To me, it didn't make much sense. He was obviously still friends with Louis and even if that was something he hadn't forgiven Louis for, what did it have to do with me? Why did me mentioning Louis had anything to do with Louis having sex with the girl he loved? I didn't understand but asking about it seemed a bit awkward and I decided against it.

"I told you a secret, it's your turn now, Devie."

I had so many secrets it was tough to pick. Not because I wanted to share them all, but because they all seemed too important yet insignificant to share. I reached for the water bottle but instead to drink from it, I started playing with it, twisting it in my hand as I stared at it.

"I fell in love with my one of my teachers at my old college." I let out with a shrug as if I wanted to prove that it was nothing. "That's why I came here."

I wanted to tell him that he had to keep that information to himself. I wanted to beg him to keep my secret, but somehow, something was telling me that Niall was the kind to keep your secrets no matter what, so I remained silent.

"Wow, okay." Niall nodded. He seemed surprised and I was not sure why. "I didn't expect that."

"What did you expect?"

He sighed low and moved intertwined the fingers of both his hands together, putting them behind his head as he leaned more on his chair. He always seemed to spread his legs and arms to get into an horizontal position and once again, it troubled me. Perhaps it was only because he looked good but I felt like there was more than that. Sure, Niall was hot, but hotness had never destabilized me like that before.

"I don't know. Unrequited love from a popular guy who didn't deserve you. Or a misunderstanding with a teacher. Or perhaps just that you didn't like the school." he explained. "Now I'm even more intrigued."

I felt my lips curl despite myself and felt my cheeks burn. I didn't know why his words had this effect on me but I couldn't help it and cleared my throat. I didn't know how to talk about something else and I glanced at his notebook, close to me on the table.

"Uhm, well, maybe we should keep working on our paper?" I let out quickly, reaching for his notebook. "What do you have so far?"

His eyes got bigger and I thought he was going to fall off his chair as he took his legs back and reached for the notebook in my hands. I only had time to read a few words but I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with our paper.

'Since we're alone, you can show me your heart.'

I blinked a few times, staring at my hands, exactly where his notebook was a few seconds ago, as the words he wrote kept appearing whenever my eyes were closed.

"That's not... that's... that's personal." he stammered. closing his notebook and putting it quickly in his bag. "I guess we can work a bit more on our paper if that's what you want."

He was avoiding my eyes and once again, I felt like I had caught him naked. Not physically, but it felt like I had seen a small part of his soul after reading what i guessed were lyrics.

"Uhm, yea, maybe an other half hour or something."

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 2

“Under the Knife” - Part 2

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2,500-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talks of murders, talk of crime scenes, cursing

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Tag List:

@fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

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

After your meeting with Jack, you filled out some paperwork and made it official: You were going to be his profiler for any case that he wanted to call you in for. And apparently he already had one building. 

“We have a suspected serial killer hitting close to home. Three killings in Montclair, Lorton, and Fredericksburg.” As he said the Virginian cities, Jack plopped 3 case files in front of you and moved to the board full of evidence that he had.

“Oh! We’re starting right now? O-Okay.” He turned from the board to look at you with a sort of incredulous way. 

“Do you have a problem with that?” 

“I mean, we literally just signed the papers. I thought I would have a night to prepare instead of being thrown right in.” You said the truth without seeming ungrateful or annoyed, which was good. But you instantly started to nervously ramble as Jack nodded and walked back to his desk. “But if we need to start right now, I can. I just wasn’t ready for--”

“You’re right. We’ll start talking tomorrow. For now, take those files, do your homework, and report here at 9AM. We’ll go to the lab and introduce you to Beverly, Price, and Zeller.” Jack smiled and motioned toward the door. 

“Thank you. I will see you tomorrow morning!” You tried to be professional but also show that you were actually excited to work with him. 

“See you tomorrow.”

After putting the files securely in your bag, you headed to your apartment. You put the files on your dining room table before you hung up your coat and work bag. You checked your watch. You had dinner plans with Hannibal in an hour and a half. You stood between your room and the table that the files were seated on. You fidgeted with your ring for a few seconds as you debated on whether or not to start catching up on the case now or after dinner. 

“I can read over the first one and then get ready for dinner.” You told yourself as you pulled out the semi-comfy chair and opened the file. 

Case: #566-A

This case was from 6 weeks ago in Montclair. Ballsy to be close to the FBI and kill people. There were two victims: Dr. Everet and his wife Whinnie. They were found dead in their shared bedroom in their upper-class house. A nice upper-class place thanks to being a doctor. 

Whinnie looked like a murder that you would find in an armed robbery case: Quick throat slit, not much thought or motive into it, left on the floor to bleed out. Dr. Everet on the other hand was what you assumed grabbed Jack’s attention.

Dr. Everet was in the middle of their bed. The autopsy report claimed that the cause of death was exsanguination which made sense considering he was in pieces. Everet was cut at every major joint. His arms were separated from his shoulders, his legs from the pelvis, his thigh from his knee, his forearm from the elbow, and so on and so forth down to his fingers and toes. The report showed that there was a high level of paralytics in his system. So you make him sit there while you cut him apart. That’s why there are no defensive wounds. He had to lay there and endure all of that...

Why was Everet presented like this while his wife was a simple throat slit?

You made some notes in your book, making sure to write out questions to ask the team when you met up with them tomorrow. With every note you made, you found yourself going back to the case file and trying to connect dots. You soon realized that you couldn’t begin to connect those dots until you looked at the other files. 

Without much thinking, you opened all three files, quickly skimming over each of them and writing out the main points that stood out. You were supposed to be at Hannibal’s at 7 o’clock and it was only 5:45. It didn’t take that long to get to his place.

All of the murders happened 2 weeks after the other, starting 5 and a half weeks ago. Dr. Everet was about 6 weeks ago, Dr. Chaseten was about 4 weeks ago, and Dr. Loriet was about 2 weeks ago. Which means this killer is bound to strike again soon if this time frame is important to him.

They all have at least one victim that is treated like a paralyzed piece of artwork like Dr.Everet and at least one victim thrown to the side and killed quickly. The ‘pieces of art’ were all doctors, the others were their husbands or wives.

They all were in different cities in Virginia but close enough to make a solid assumption that this is the same killer.

You were scribbling out a note to ask about if there were any particulates found in any of the bodies when your phone buzzed on the table next to you. You didn’t even look at the screen, you just hit the answer button and put whoever was calling on speakerphone.

“(Y/N) speaking.” 

“Good evening, (Y/N).” The thickly accented voice rang through your speaker and stopped your writing mid-word as you looked from your phone to the files that were now spread out across your small tablespace.

“Dr. Lecter! Hi! Good evening! Sorry, I was um...  caught up in something and didn’t even register who was calling!”

“No need to apologize. I was just wondering if I should still expect you tonight?” You dropped your pen as you frantically looked at the time on your phone. It was 6:15PM. You quickly started to shut the files and stand up muttering a few curse words as you did. “I take it you got distracted?

“Yes! I’m sorry! But I am still coming over as long as the invitation is still good.” You picked up your phone and walked to your room to start to quickly figure out a nice outfit that didn’t look too much like a work outfit or too fancy. “I am getting ready now!”

“As I can hear.” You could almost hear the slight smirk he most likely had on his lips from hearing you fumble around your small space. 

“I should be there right around 7 and I’ll explain myself, I promise.” 

“I will see you then, my dear.” Hannibal hung up while you were slinging your work shirt into your laundry bin. You couldn’t help the smile that spread as you thought about how he called you ‘my dear.’ You know it's probably nothing more than a common nickname for any woman in Hannibal’s life, but it still felt good to be called something other than your real name. 

~~~~~~~~

Somehow you had managed to avoid a lot of major traffic and pull up to Hannibal’s home right at 7 o’clock. He must have heard your engine or seen your headlights because as you got out of your car and made your way to his front door, it was already open with him waiting for you with a small smile on his lips. 

“Right on time.” 

“Did you doubt me?”

“Never.” Hannibal moved to the side to let you in. You were instantly hit with the scents of whatever he was whipping up in his kitchen. 

“One day you’ll have to teach me how to make something really fancy just so I can show off next time I have someone over.” You shrugged off your bag and went to hang it up in the closet, but Hannibal beat you to it.

“Someone like a partner?” He was so good at hiding any sort of inflection in his voice, but you could have sworn that you detected a bit of jealousy. You slightly laughed at the idea of having any sort of romantic partner right now.

“I was thinking more along the lines of my brother. You know I don’t have much of a social life outside work.

Hannibal motioned for you to walk towards the kitchen, you did so and he was right behind you. 

This was normal for the two of you. You tried to have a meal or at least coffee together once or twice a week to give both of you a break from whatever the world was dishing out to you that week. You had met as colleagues when you worked together on a project for the FBI. But now you both were in a comfortable friendship. There was a pang in your heart that wanted to explore the idea of being more than friends or coworkers with him, but you doubted Hannibal felt the same. If he did, he wouldn’t show it due to his connection with your brother and out of respect for you. So the two of you continued this dance of being extremely friendly but too scared to make a move or speak up.

You poured yourself a glass of water and leaned against the kitchen counter as Hannibal reached into the refrigerator for lemon juice and finished up cooking. 

“How was your day today?” You ask him, as you take a sip.

“It was alright. Met with patients, got further in a drawing, figured out what to cook for a beautiful lady as a congratulation of sorts.” Hannibal quickly looked up at you as he said the last half of that before turning to the stovetop. You felt a very small blush creep on your neck, but tried to play it cool. 

“Congratulations?”

“On your new position. I hope you don’t mind that Will shared that with me today.”

“Did he now?” You couldn’t help the slight negativity in your voice as you looked away and played with your ring. “He is definitely not as happy for me as you are. I’m sure you’re aware that he did not want me to accept Jack’s offer.”

“I cannot tell what he said, but I can tell you that he was rather upset when he came in today.”

“Sounds like my brother.” You took another drink of water, not even noticing that Hannibal had plated dinner until he spoke up.

“Now, if you’d please.” You quickly looked up and saw that he was gesturing to the dining room. You tried to help by grabbing a plate or his cup or something to bring to the table but he just gently ushered you into the next room. He never let you help out when you were over as a dinner guest, but you tried every time. 

The two of you sat and began eating. It was a good minute or two of silence before someone spoke up. 

“This is delicious, Hannibal! I don’t know what vegetable this is exactly,” you help up a swirly looking green piece on your fork, “but it is amazing with this sauce you’ve made.”

“That is romanesco broccoli. I thought you might like it. It looks intimidating but tastes like the typical broccoli that you normally eat. It's just a bit… Artistic.” He slightly smiled, happy that he could amuse you with new food. You took another bite as Hannibal reached for his wine. Before he took a sip, he asked something that had been on his mind.

“May I ask what grabbed your focus so much that you almost missed out on dinner tonight?”

“Oh, right! Jack apparently already has a killer he wants me to start profiling. He gave me copies of the reports to read up on before I have my first official day tomorrow. I told myself I was just going to read the first one, but then got carried away.”

“Is this the killer that has been targeting doctors?” You gave him a questioning look, unsure of how he knew about the case. “Jack asked for my opinion at the crime scene for Dr.Chaseten a few weeks ago. Considering they haven’t caught anyone, I’m assuming that is what he has you working on.”

“Then you would be correct. There are now three mutilated doctors that have no obvious correlation to each other other than the cause of death and the fact that they are doctors.” You sipped your drink and continued. “I know I’ve only been Jack’s official profiler for less than a day, but it's still biting at me that I don’t see anything yet.”

Hannibal reached over and put a hand on yours to try to rein you back in before you thought too much about the case.

“I’m sure you will have more answers tomorrow.” You smiled and patted his hand, ignoring the slight butterflies you got from the contact. You took a deep breath.

“I know. I shouldn’t get this deep yet. That insanity will hit me tomorrow when I have to brainstorm with Jack.” You smiled even though it didn’t fully reach your eyes. You knew Hannibal would pick up on it. 

“I think it was Oscar Levant that said that ‘there’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.’ Let’s just hope Jack Crawford won’t erase his line.” Hannibal gave your hand a small squeeze before removing his hand, causing you both to return your attention to your meal. 

“You know, we could have rescheduled this dinner if you felt the need to finish your work.” Hannibal was sincere. He understood your work was a major part of your life, but he did like to see you outside the halls of the FBI.

“No! I wanted to come by tonight! Honestly, I needed a mood lifter after today.”

“Oh? How come?” You finished chewing and then spoke your mind. You knew Hannibal was a therapist, but he wasn’t your therapist. So you tried to keep it friendly.

“I should be excited and happy to be starting this new position, but I’m more worried about Will. I don’t want this job to be what divides us, you know? We’re so close, and I am one of the few people that he can be comfortable around. I don’t want to take that from him.” You pause, unconsciously bouncing your leg and fidgeting with your ring slightly. You shook your head as if that would temporarily erase the thought. “I just hope that if I keep working cases, he will get more and more okay with it.” You cut off a piece of fish and ate, letting Hannibal know that you were done speaking.

“I’m sure he will be fine.” You look up to find him staring at you. More like watching you, hyper-aware of your movements that show your anxiety. “But enough about Will.” Hannibal held up his glass towards you. “Here’s to you and your new path in the FBI. May they see you as valuable and wonderful as I do.” 

You patted your lips with your napkin and smiled as you clinked your glass with his. Your heart swelled at his words. Why do you do this to me? 

The rest of the evening was spent finishing your meal and forcing Hannibal to let you help with the dishes. Afterward, he walked you to your car, as usual, opening the door for you like a true gentleman. 

Your drive home was peaceful and you found yourself smiling, thankful for your evening with Hannibal. It was nice to know that someone you cared about was happy for you.

[mimik-u]

Multitudes

Summary: On the 6,242nd anniversary of Pink Diamond's shattering—nearly a year after the Diamonds discovered the existence of Steven—Yellow Diamond, as she always does, searches for Blue. Pre-movie.

Note: It has been far too long since I've written Bellow Diamond, and I've needed this very story lately—something about allowing yourself to feel your emotions while also continuing to move forward.

AO3

—

It is with a studied rhythm that Homeworld’s twin suns pull each other up through the darkness, blanketing the sky in a soft pink glow as they ascend, going slowly, all gentleness. Yellow Diamond watches the familiar spectacle from her latticed window, hand beneath her chin, mind elsewhere as the fractured light glances off the angular planes of her face.

To a being who has lived ten thousands of years upon years, the emergence and passing of a new cycle is but a blink of the eye, a meaningless unit in the long linearity of her given lifetime. And yet, as she has learned so viscerally in even just the past six thousand years alone, the surest, and perhaps only way to measure time is to judge it by the movements of the other gems around her.

And by other gems, she means Blue Diamond.

For she always means Blue.

Her strength, her weakness, her light, her darkness, her partner, her monomaniac fixation, her fellow goddess, her friend.

(The dichotomies and multitudes of their relationship have always stunned Yellow Diamond at best and scared her at worst.)

For six thousand years, she scheduled her entire existence around knowing exactly where the other matriarch was at all times. In-between court sessions and trials and all of the various other councils Yellow convened alone, she sent Pearls to inform her of where Blue Diamond was and what exactly she was doing. The trail of her mourning was as readily available to her as reports on potassium deposits in faraway colonies.

She learned, intimately, that Blue rotated between haunts every so often like an organic beast migrating between seasons. Each spatial relic of Pink Diamond’s past were but pastures to graze in prolonged misery.

Against her own volition, Yellow came to understand that some cycles, by the sheer fact of what they once were, were harder for Blue Diamond than others.

The anniversary of Pink’s emergence into the world.

The day they decided to bequeath her her own colony.

The remembrance, the haunting, the sadistic exhibition of her shattering.

Before they laid eyes on what they had thought to be her shards, the Diamonds had never truly known pain, the sharp dimensions of it, the astonishing depths. 

When Blue Diamond’s screams rent the air for the first time, the entire Earth seemed to scream with her, wailing an unholy, feral song to which the three deities did not know the lyrics, though they sang along anyway. With their hands outstretched towards the colony Pink Diamond had once called home, they tried to fill in the melody the best that they could.

And they corrupted hundreds upon hundreds of gems.

And they shattered thousands more.

Because they had never lost anything before then.

And they wanted to make someone else and everything else feel the extent of their loss, too.

It is not an excuse.

A justification either.

It is only history, raw and unsanitized.

Yellow Diamond abruptly closes her eyes against the rosy sunrise as though stung, her fingers spidering against her tall nose.

Today would have been the 6,242nd anniversary of the shattering. 

Nearly a year ago, they learned that everything they had ever assumed about their beloved Pink Diamond was a lie—including this very date.

Still, the old memories come unbidden—the shards, the terror, the ungodly screaming. 

And yet, the familiar is now tempered by the newer sensations that have surfaced to foreign planes in her mind ever since she has met, loved, and wanted to do better for Steven Universe: the guilt, the helplessness, the fragility of everything, of it all.

When Yellow Diamond snaps her eyes open again, the images still burn the backs of her retinas, and it all comes together in one jangling, dissonant, clashing symphony—lights and noises, echoes and pale ghosts: the shards, the guilt, the terror, the helplessness, the ungodly screaming, the fragility of everything, of it all.

She is naked.

Fifty foot tall, the fragments of thousands of gems all over her hands, she is exposed.

With a violence that startles Pearl—who’d been running algorithms on her screens—Yellow stands up from her alcove, stretching her long limbs extensively, as though trying to excise something out along with the stiffness, too. 

“Sorry,” she says gruffly, glancing away. (She’s working on it—she is—but apologies still don’t come easily to the matriarch.)  “Just have somewhere I need to be.”

With a few quick taps of a nearby panel, Pearl pulls up and enlarges a video feed of the throne room. A snatch of heavy blue fabric dragging against the floor is all she needs to see.

“... that wouldn’t happen to be the throne room, my—I mean, your—um, Yellow Diamond, would it?” (Pearl is working on it—she is—but thousands of years of ingrained slavery are hard to completely forget, too.)

Relief mixed with gratitude mixed with awkwardness darkens the gold around Yellow Diamond’s sharp cheekbones.

“Thank you, Pearl.” 

A similar blush scribbles itself across the bridge of the smaller gem’s nose. 

“Of course.”

(They’re both working on it—they are—Diamond and Pearl alike, trying to figure out what it means to be companions in Era Three. Equals. Maybe one day, friends, if such an unstudied phenomenon can happen between them after all these unchanging cycles of mastery and slavery.)

(But she wonders to herself—she wonders this every day—is there grace enough in this universe for the Diamonds?)

(Is there such a thing as absolution and reprieve?)

Brow furrowed above her eyes, Yellow finally sweeps out of her chamber, heels clicking reliably against the marble veined floor. 

(She doesn’t know.)

(She isn’t sure she wants to know.)

The passage between her chamber and the throne room is a covered bridge, the path intricately laid, sunlight slanting through the arches and onto her handsome armor in patches. 

She doesn’t stop to look below—doesn’t have time to spare even though she has all the time in the world—but even as she walks, she can hear all the many ways that Homeworld is changing, the echoes of the reforming city drifting up to the palace like sacrificial smoke. There is the humdrum of communication—talking and conversing, snatches of loud laughter. And there is the steady thrum of ship traffic zooming through the brightening sky. 

She knows, without looking, that there are flashing colors and newly constructed infrastructures. Councils are being formed, the judicial system overhauled independently of the Diamonds' oversight. Representatives for the various Gem types are elected fairly and democratically. An economy based on rare rocks—locally sourced from Homeworld’s own Kindergarten—is slowly but surely being constructed by business minded Peridots. Gems from all eras and cuts and cabochons are cohabiting side by side, communing and learning to coexist without prejudice and fear.

Their world, for the first time in millions of cycles, is evolving.

For good and for the best.

With a pang that tightens her diamond as she finally approaches the intricately carved double doors leading into the throne room, Yellow Diamond wonders what it means that she is falling into the same pattern she has threaded year after year for 6,242 years.

Do Diamonds ever change their facets?

Or are their hardnesses immutable, unchanging?

(She wonders—she wonders this every day—if one day the universe will pronounce judgment on the three of them for their crimes against Gemkind?)

(Will doing better be enough to lighten the sentence?)

(Is doing better the same as being better?)

She curls her fingers tightly around one of the quartz handles and pulls outwards, her nerves suddenly electrified as the square of light from the door slowly pools into the throne room and across the floor, inching and seeping until it touches the hem of a heavy, dark robe. 

“Yellow.” Blue Diamond looks up, awed. “You remembered.”

As has been the Diamonds' shared habit lately, she's kneeling in front of the warp pad, cerulean fingers neatly templed on her lap, her posture reminiscent of the weeping statues in the Saturnal Spire, many of them immortalized in prostration. Yellow can see the traces of wetness beneath her grooved eyes, a telltale and familiar sign of what has already passed and what is yet to come. 

“Did you think I would forget?” She asks, immediately loathing that the question sounds so vulnerable and needy, as though she’s dependent—and maybe she is—on a negative answer.

“Truthfully?” 

“Yes”—she interjects impatiently—“I always want to know your truth.”

But, to Yellow’s surprise, Blue laughs quietly, the edges of her plump, blue lifted along the contours of her smile.

“Stars above, you still never wait for someone to finish their thought, do you?” 

“I didn’t intend to interrupt! I just—“

“Yes, I know, Yellow. Come.” Blue Diamond extricates her hands from one another and pats the empty space next to her. “Be with me, please.”

It is an irresistible request, an invitation that Yellow could never refuse (though she has never fully tried). With a few, stiff strides, she join the other matriarch on the floor, sitting crosslegged, even as her armored spine is ramrod straight. 

Appropriately chastised, her cheeks are dark with golden flush.

“Are you happy now?” Yellow mutters beneath her breath.

“Yes,” comes the quiet reply that very nearly paralyzes her. Perhaps realizing this, Blue Diamond extends the same hand she used to gesture towards the floor and places the tips of her fingertips on the spines of Yellow’s gloved knuckles. “I am…. in my own small way—happy and also undeniably sad. It is a curious contradiction.”

“Oh,” Yellow Diamond can only say, swallowing hard. 

“Oh,” Blue Diamond agrees, leaning—softly, very gently—against her, so that their shoulders touch. Her silvery hair falls to the side at the movement, the light from above crowning her head in liquid amber.

In gold.

“I didn’t wish to be alone today,” she admits, frowning, “but for the last six thousand and sundry years, you have unfailingly ensured that I never was alone on this date... even when I thought that I wanted to be, even all the times I pushed you away.”

Yellow‘s breath hitches, shallow of air.

They’ve scarcely talked so openly before, even now, and perhaps especially now that the Diamonds are trying their damnedest to amend the wrongs of their pasts.

Even beyond that, intimacy is hard.

Indeed, it is one of the few lessons that the resilient general has yet to master for all of her focus and control.

She still doesn’t have all the steps in order yet... if there are even quantifiable steps to intimacy at all.

“You pushed me away often,” she finally says, and try though she does, she can’t quite keep an accusatory tone out of her voice. 

(Even if the Diamonds don’t wear their wounds, that doesn’t mean they were never inflicted.)

“I know,” Blue confesses, closing her eyes tightly against what Yellow knows to be a deluge of memories. “I knew all along most likely. I wanted to hurt you as were hurting me. If I could make you feel even a fraction of the misery that I did... if I could make any gems who crossed my path understand... I was quick, injudiciously so, to do as much.”

The matriarch is precise when it comes to identifying and analyzing her own emotions—incisive—another ability which Yellow never quite learned in thousands of millennia.

“We don’t have to talk about this now,” she says quickly, “if it’s too much.”

(It's always too much for Yellow.)

“But I want to.” Blue abruptly opens her eyes, and Yellow is startled to see that they’ve hardened, her expression pinched. “I mean, I suppose I need to... for there is this feeling in my chest, Yellow. It pulses in my very diamond and has expanded with each passing second that I have been up today. And I want to get rid of it—I must.”

Her fingers tense where they rest upon her hand, and the space between palm and knuckles, blue and gold, is electric with energy, pulsating.

The column of Yellow Diamond’s throat is thick, sticky with feeling.

“I have a feeling, too,” she admits, her voice surly. “When I awoke... and recalled what day it was... I couldn’t shake it.”

Blue’s eyes are wide and tired, weary with six thousand cycles of mourning. The carnage is pooled all over her face. It scarred both of them. It nearly maddened White. 

“Name it, Yellow,” she whispers, and it is almost a supplication, desperate and reverent on the Diamond’s lilting tongue. “Please.”

What is there to do but comply?

What stands between her and a handful of words except her own sheathe of an ego of a personality?

Yellow Diamond flinches before she ever opens her mouth, half-hating and entirely fearing what she is about to make their reality.

“I miss her, Blue.”

“And?” Because Blue Diamond knows—she always seems to know—when her sentences are unfinished, when words remain unspoken. 

Yellow’s eyes burn, the leakage threatening to spill out.

“And I feel guilty about it, for missing her now… after what we did to her... after what we have done to so many other gems.”

To ourselves, too.

To each other.

More unspoken aches, though the merciful Blue Diamond is kind enough not to call her out on them.

A single tear glances down her long, oval face, collecting calmly on the point of her chin.

“How can we be moving on,” Yellow continues, wiping roughly at her eyes with her other hand, “if we are here again? The same place we have been every year for the last six thousand years? On the floor, broken. Our world is turning, Blue! Evolving! Transforming! Do we not revolve with it?”

If this is the pattern and the routine to which they inevitably return, does this not mean that they will one day become stagnations and calcifications?

Monuments and monoliths to their own shattered pasts?

What is all their progress, their actions and their actions and their atonements and their actions, if they cannot ever abstain from this vicious ceremony?

Will they still be here, six thousand years more from now, missing a gem who will never come home to them again?

Will there never not be a day when a rosy, pink sky doesn’t evoke her name on their tongues?

Pink Diamond.

She used to sing flowers into full bloom.

When Blue isn’t immediately forthcoming with an answer—her dark lips parted slightly in silence—for the first time in the entirety of her existence, Yellow feels no triumph in being right.

There is no pleasure in the conception and epiphany of their eternal damnation.

There is only acceptance, she thinks, glancing down at the warp pad, dull and empty. 

(Steven hasn’t visited in twenty-one cycles now.)

Stoic and unceasing resignation.

“Yellow Diamond...” A tall hand cups her chin gently and draws the general’s gaze upwards until all the goddess sees is blue. Her eyes. Her complexion. Her alice blue hair. Her lips. Blue Diamond looks at her all over, and there is an ancient sadness engraved in all the geometric lines of her face. “Do you really believe that multiple things cannot be true at the same time?”

“I—“

“No,” Blue cuts her off firmly. “Let me finish, please. We have done horrible things, and we are trying, every day, to do better. We hurt Pink immeasurably... and we are hurt—stars, we will be devastated—by her loss forever. Those sentiments are not mutually exclusive.” Blue’s voice hitches, her warm breath so close that Yellow can feel it on her skin. “They can’t be... or else, what do we have to look forward to for the next thousands of years of our lifetimes? How can we deal with the enormities of our lives if we do not allow our lives to be enormous—both an exemplar and a testament to complexity?”

Yellow stares at her companion incredulously, wanting to believe in the grandiosity of their existences (again) but not quite daring to (as she had once so easily done before).

Dichotomies and multitudes and holistic systems of so many moving, working parts—Yellow Diamond, for all of her intelligence and logic and ratios and statistics, does not know how to compute them. Her morality has always been a straight line that favors extremes, tilting like an unbalanced scale, from one weighted end to the other.

“But you feel it, too,” she argues hoarsely. “You have a feeling in your chest as well.”

Her gaze unwittingly travels down to Blue’s gem, gleaming brightly against her cerulean complexion.

But the other Diamond, fingertips still captured beneath her chin, doesn’t allow the moment to linger, insisting, with a gentle nudge, that Yellow Diamond holds her head up high.

“And so this just means we have a final pair of questions to ask ourselves, yes?” Blue smiles lightly, all tenderness and sadness, all warmth and terrible grief.

Dichotomies and multitudes.

They stun Yellow Diamond, and they perplex her, and they frustrate her to no conceivable end.

Even now, she isn’t sure that she’s following, and yet, as the two of them sit here—linked by touch and millennia and memories—she knows, without ever being able to articulate the sentiment into words that would matter or make sense, she would follow this gem to the ends of their world, conceivable or otherwise.

“What do we do with this feeling now that we have it?" Blue’s smile only deepens, becoming more felt, arctic eyes melting. "And how do we make sure it doesn’t go to waste?”

Her face shines in the brilliance of the warp pad’s newly glowing light.

“Today,” she says, “we allow ourselves to feel the pain of losing Pink... and we play with Steven Universe... and we not only love him, but show him that we do.”

“And tomorrow?” Yellow dares to ask.

A concentrated beam whooshes downwards from the ceiling of the palatial hall.

“Tomorrow”—Blue Diamond squeezes her hand—“we can move forward again... hand in hand.”

There are colonies to continue dismantling and long corroded infrastructure to repair. Homeworld’s grid system needs to be replotted, and a Kindergarten on Iphigenia would be a meaningful location to repurpose as an organic life conservation facility. Transportation services between Homeworld and Earth are still being configured, especially given Earth’s less than spaceship friendly atmospheres and surfaces. Former gem experiments require a delicate unraveling and a reckoning both for Yellow Diamond who ordered them to be carried out in the first place. Blue and White and Yellow Diamond alike, all three of them in harmonious union and sync for the first time in thousands of years, want to build a memorial spire in Sector 9 for the Rose Quartzes to inhabit if they should so choose—a place of rest and healing, circled all throughout with restorative waters.

“I... like the sound of that.” 

The tentative beginnings of hope creep into her low voice.

“I thought you would,” Blue teases as particulate matter and atoms and long reclaimed stardust begin to arrange themselves into the boy named Steven Universe.

“We start now.”