#it’s still sad blue boy hours over here… truly saddening

[deus-ex-mona]

fun fact!

if you are a blue-coded character who’s involved in a love triangle…

…your love will end up unrequited

[behindyourbarrette]

Star Light, Star Bright

summary: The team goes camping on a long weekend. Turns out, it’s really easy to tell someone how you feel when you’re under a starry night sky. 

pairing: spencer reid/reader

category: fluff, start to finish

warnings/includes: mention of food, a mild burn

work count: 4.1k

a/n: this is my fav thing i’ve written in a HOT SECOND. enjoy! pls reblog if you feel inclined, it helps me out a ton!

check it out on ao3

---

You’ve never found chicken pox to be more of a miracle.

In truth, you are a little saddened that Jack’s Boy Scout troop all got sick and their camping trip had to be postponed. This does not change the fact that you’re elated at the opportunity to nab Hotch’s campsite reservation. The team jumped at the chance for a vacation, the promised long weekend only truly promised in places without cell service.

You pick Spencer up early, the first of many people you’ve offered to drive out to the mountains. After tossing a very heavy-sounding duffel bag into your trunk, he clambers into the passenger seat. He strikes you as a little nervous—he won’t quite look at you as you wind your way out of D.C and towards the countryside.

“I’ve never been camping before, actually.” He says it quietly, mid-conversation about Boy Scouts and the safety of camping with children. There’s a 5-mile radius around Quantico where work is the only thing you can really think about. As you turn onto the highway, hands flexing against the wheel, you’re glad to be free of the office.

“Really? Never?”

It makes sense, the longer his sentence sits on your tongue. Vegas isn’t the most hospitable environment to camp in. You make a mental note to thank your parents for raising you on the East Coast, where the forests are frequent and the soil is actually fertile.

“Yeah. I’m not sure, I’m, uh, really suited for it.” You look at him now, the slight sadness in his eyes, and there are a thousand things you’d like to say. Instead, you reach across the center console, squeezing his hand in yours. Before he can say anything, you’ve returned your hand to the wheel, eyes fixed on the horizon. 

---

You’ve lived in Virginia for a few years, but somehow you’ve never found it this breathtaking. You have no idea how you got roped into driving, given that Derek and Emily usually take the wheel, but you’re far from complaining. As you wind through the forest, the canopy of leaves casting a filter of sunshine over the ground, you’re left speechless. The trees part in favor of the dirt road, and you find yourself absorbed in the surplus of green and foliage as you drive.

“There’s over 15,000 acres of this. It’s the largest protected land preserve in the tri-state area.”

You turn your head to watch Spencer murmur, still absorbed in a book. For the first time, you notice that he’s wearing a polo shirt and a beanie that Penelope knit him for Christmas. The whole sight is so...un-Spencer like that you’re torn between finding it endearing and concerning. You gulp down everything you want to tell him, swallowing all of the unidentifiable feelings in your throat.

“I’m excited. I love camping. My dad used to take me here all the time.” He perks up at this, and closes his book. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You steal a quick glance at the backseat, where Penelope and Derek have fallen asleep.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You have Spencer’s attention now. He nods so vehemently you laugh, tearing your eyes away from his in favor of focusing on the road.

“I wanted to be a park ranger when I was younger.” You’re only a little embarrassed of this; the jump from environmentalist to federal agent is just laughable enough to warm your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes widen.

“Really? How did you—I mean, when did you decide to be a—actually, I take it back. Hugging trees is beneficial for your health, after all.” He smirks, and you reach out to punch him on the arm. He rubs the spot absently, a grin forming on his face as your blush deepens. You try to portray yourself to the team as someone who’s a little tougher than the little girl who cried when she found out that people litter in National Parks. With Spencer, it’s different. Still, you can’t bank on what he will or won’t tell Derek.

“If you tell anyone, I will kick your ass. Forget it.” You get the sense that you are not going to live this down. To your advantage, it’s Spencer who blushes this time, his cheeks warming a delicate pink.

“I can’t forget it, actually. I have an eidetic—ow!”

---

The campsite is glorious.

Or, as Penelope would put it, rustic. It’s the perfect happy medium between the forest and the lake nearby, with a trail leading to the beach just a few feet from the site. The trees filter out just enough sun so that it’s pleasantly warm out. There’s ample space for a few tents, and a bear locker. You’re seated at a picnic bench with the girls, unloading the food and cooking supplies as the boys attempt to put together tents. From what you can see and hear, it sounds like Derek is muscling his way through it, much to Spencer and Hotch’s chagrin.

“You’re glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Emily nudges you in the side, a sly smile on her face as she screws the propane line into the campstove. You flush, and shrug your shoulders.

“I love camping. I’m just excited to be here with you guys.”

Penelope reaches across the table to hug you. She’s dressed perfectly for the occasion: you don’t think you’ve ever seen bedazzled hiking boots before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“You know, I’m surprised Spence came. He normally skips out on these kinds of things.” JJ looks back at you from the bear locker, where she’s stacking cans of soup and Hotch’s cooler. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but you look towards Spencer before she can say anything else. He’s managing to put up his tent surprisingly well; he’s only struggling with the final few posts as he stumbles around the uneven ground. You turn back to JJ, shrugging.

“I mean, I think he can appreciate the outdoors. He’s probably read Walden.”

Emily laughs, and you feel as though the conversation has finally let up. JJ has a point, but as soon as you had asked Spencer if he was coming, he had agreed. He doesn’t look particularly out of place, either. Over the course of the past hour, he’s somehow inherited a pair of sunglasses and a red flannel. You look away, pursing your lips.

“Okay, I think we’re done.” Derek calls, waving his arm to catch your attention. There are now five small tents, only a little crinkled and trampled over. Emily nods in approval, nudging one of them with the tip of her boot. It only shakes a little.

“Good job, guys. They look...structurally sound.” Hands on your hips, you bend to inspect the guys’ handiwork. Spencer winces as you tug on a tent’s zipper, and it whines in protest. You shrug, smiling as you straighten.

“We should check out the lake.” Derek gestures to the blue expanse of water in the distance, and Penelope squeals. You hear the sound of metal clinking together, and turn.

It’s Hotch, holding what you assume to be a fishing pole. While this should be very surprising, you can’t come up with anything funny to say. Emily makes a joke about the catch of the day, and Hotch doesn’t laugh.

“Are there canoes involved? I didn’t bring a suit.” JJ asks, arms crossed over her chest. You nod, pointing to the rental shack on the eastern side of the lake.

“You guys ready to get some sun?”

---

“You look cute in hiking boots, princess.” You should not find this as funny as you do. Maybe it’s the fact that Derek definitely had Penelope apply some sort of oil to his biceps while they were in a tent; there’s no way that he just naturally glistens like that. You squint up at him, shrugging your shoulders. While your outfit is a little unorthodox—you remembered to bring a bikini, but forgot water shoes—it’ll work just fine. Spencer enters your peripheral vision, wrinkling his nose in Derek’s direction. You resist the urge to smile at this.

“Spence.”

You get his attention, catching up to him in just a few steps. The beach is pretty, lacking in sand but perfectly cool and sunny. He’s wearing too-big sunglasses and, surprisingly, Bermuda shorts. You trudge along the rocky path, handing him a bottle of sunscreen.

“Come on, I need your help. Sunscreen me.”

He seems shocked, fiddling with the bottle. You turn your back to him, raising your arms as you walk backwards, waiting to hit him before you stop.

“Is sunscreen a verb?” His voice is a little hoarse, and you smirk.

“Would you prefer lotion? Massage?” You tease, and you can practically feel him tense up.

“N-no, I wouldn’t. Hold your hair up.”

You oblige, and it takes everything in you not to sigh as he rubs the cool sunscreen into your back. He has really, really big hands and nimble fingers. Biting your lip, you conjure a mental image of them. You feel a little silly for imagining his hands when he’s right there, but you don’t want him to stop touching you. He coats your skin, movements deft and purposeful. You turn, reaching for the bottle.

“Take off your glasses. Your turn.” You like being a little bossy; he flushes as you reach up to spread the lotion across his cheeks, dabbing gently. He exhales slowly, relaxing into your touch.

“Let’s go. You’re my canoe buddy.”

His mouth falls open in surprise, and an evil part of your brain wonders how it would feel to kiss it. The thought is gone before you can act on it, though, and you wave him towards the shore. He stands still, lingering by the campsite.

“I was going to read on the beach, actually—”

“Nope. Come on! I need a partner.”

—-

The lake is cool, and you make yourself busy by being a very unhelpful canoeing partner. Spencer is rowing surprisingly well, scooping water from below and propelling the boat forward. You, on the other hand, are focused on stretching out in the boat. The sun is deliciously warm on your skin, and the occasional splash of water is heaven to the touch.

“You know, there are two sets of oars. We’d get the most momentum if you rowed, too.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll row. I’m not any good at it, though. That’s why I needed a partner.” You pat him on the shoulder affectionately, reaching for the other oar. The motion tips the canoe forward a little, and panic flashes across Spencer’s face.

“Don’t do that again. I do not want to end up in this lake. Do you know how many bacteria are in most man made lakes? You don’t want to know.”

You are many things, but you are not a quitter. Testing the waters, you lean forward again as you row, a little out of sync with Spencer’s strokes.

“Please don’t capsize,”

Hotch calls out from the shore, and Spencer shoots you a look as if to say listen. You shrug, continuing to row and occasionally shifting your weight. The look on his face is worth it.

“You know how to swim, right?”

You ask, voice low and as inconspicuous as you can manage. This backfires—Spencer turns around to shake his head, unbalancing the boat. He lets go of his oar, tightening the strap on his life vest. You cling to the sides, laughing as you try to steady the canoe.

“Not funny. You know, boating related accidents are incredibly common.”

His voice drifts off as Derek and Emily’s boat passes by. Their sportsmanship is admirable; they’re working as a perfect unit, quickly propelling their canoe forward with quick rowing and a lot of effort.

Spencer is scolding you half-heartedly when you get caught in their wake. You couldn’t have steadied the boat if you tried; and before you can react the canoe is upside down and you’re cast into the cool blue.

“I’m going to contract a brain-eating amoeba.”

Spencer coughs, bobbing to the surface. You emerge a few moments later, laughing, and reach for him.

“Worth it. You have plenty of brains to be eaten, genius.”

You watch him try to contain his smile the entire way to the shore.

---

You’re drying off as the sun sets, splashes of pink and purple coating the sky. It’s incredible; over the lake you can see the entire expanse of fields and forest, laid out like a painting.

“You guys brought food, right?”

Emily calls out from the picnic bench. She’s toweling off, sunglasses in her hair as she jokes with Morgan. You nod, turning back to Spencer.

He’s thoroughly drenched. You feel a little guilty for tipping the boat over; he’s spent a decent amount of time wringing out his clothes, and as night falls a chill builds in the air. After pulling a jacket on, you toss him a towel.

“That was fun.”

Your eyes widen a little, genuine surprise lodging itself in your throat. He takes in the look on your face, smiling lightly.

“Better than reading on the beach?” You offer, but this is too good to be true.

“Marginally.”

You frown, suppressing a smirk as you catch the scent of propane drifting through the air. You both head in the direction of the camp stove, where Hotch is fiddling with the gas tank.

“That looks...unsafe.” Spencer mutters, brow furrowed.

Hotch shoots him a look, and you both back off in favor of finding Morgan and Garcia, who are attempting to start a bonfire.

You don’t expect this to happen.

Spencer is arguably your best friend. He’s been there for you through thick and thin. For better or for worse, you’ve had each other. This trip was supposed to be unifying, and a small part of you had even hoped that maybe, just maybe, it’d give you the bravery to say what you’ve been thinking for a while.

“I cannot believe you intentionally burn your marshmallows.”

Spencer is looking at you like you’ve committed a crime; you are very familiar with this expression, but being on the receiving end of it is new. Thankfully, you’re ready to defend your stance to near-death. A somewhat maniacal grin on your face, you stab another marshmallow onto a skewer and shove it directly into the fire.

“I’m with Pretty Boy on this one. That’s just cruel. It doesn’t even heat it all the way through.” You scowl in Derek’s direction, turning back to your now on-fire marshmallow. You pull it out of the flame, watching it sear as the group murmurs in distaste. It only took three hours to start a fire, and by that time Emily had managed to heat a can of soup on the campstove. Spirits were relatively high, all things considered.

You watch in wonder as the marshmallow curves, melting just how you like it. Before you can stop it, it falls straight down onto your leg.

“Shit. That’s like, on fire.”

You say, your voice rising in pitch and volume as it becomes increasingly clear that not only is the marshmallow very, very hot but it is not coming off. The group springs into unsure action, voices loud and panicked as you push away from both your chair and the fire. The physics of melting sugar be damned, Derek manages to scrape it off with his skewer, and you’re left with a very attractive hole in your pants and a patch of tender skin.

“How do you love camping?” JJ asks, eyes wide as she watches you brush yourself off. Stabbing another marshmallow onto your skewer, you shrug.

“It’s all part of the fun.”

This time, you don’t set your marshmallow on fire. You mimic Spencer, who is carefully rotating his marshmallow. There has to be a system for what he’s doing; he’s laser-focused on the fire, his entire face lit up by the flickering red and orange light. You lean in, and before long you fall into a rhythm of roasting a marshmallow to golden-brown perfection, then pressing it into a graham cracker. Emily is incredible at assembling s’mores, and by time the fire is just a few crackling embers everyone has a little chocolate smeared over their faces.

“I’m really glad we did this.” JJ’s voice is just above a whisper. She’s leaning against Emily, the two of them sharing a blanket as the fire slowly fades. Hotch nods sagely, a rare smile on his face.

“It’s nice. A break. Some fresh air. Trees.” You gesture to the forest around you, unable to contain a sheepish grin. When you look to your right, Spencer’s smiling too. Penelope squeezes your hand. As you watch the last log burn into ash, you wonder how you got so lucky.

---

Later, everyone is too tired to stargaze.

This fact wounds you deeply. Stargazing is your favorite part of camping; there is absolutely nothing that parallels the experience of driving away from the city and looking up into the constellations. To your dismay, everyone is in their tents by the time it’s dark enough to see the winks of light overhead.

You begrudgingly get ready for bed; stepping around the campsite, it’s clear to see that everyone has mostly turned in for the night. Derek and Penelope’s tent is dark. Emily, Hotch, and JJ are all snoring at varying volumes. Spencer’s light is on; you can see his shadow, leaning over to peer at a book. You brush your teeth, swatting bugs away as you stumble towards your tent.

You manage to spend thirty minutes in your tent before you lose your patience. This entire camping trip has been a dream; no work, no cell service, and the people you care about. You’ll be damned if you let it pass you by without checking absolutely everything off your list. You step, a little wobbly, towards the front of your tent. You tug the zipper open, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

On shaking legs, you tug your hiking boots on, the evening cold nipping at your ankles. Despite your attempts to lessen the noise, you watch Spencer’s shadow waver.

“Spence!” You stage-whisper, praying to every deity you can think of that he’s awake and the rest of the team isn’t. To your immediate relief, you watch him tug the zipper of his tent down and emerge, swatting at a few lingering mosquitoes. He looks a little cold; his cheeks are pink and he’s rubbing at his arms. The sight of him in a hoodie and flannel pajama pants is more endearing than you’d expect, and you exhale to clear your head.

“What’s going on?”

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and you point to the sky. He takes a cursory glance up, and you watch his jaw fall slack as he takes in the starry skies.

“Come on. We can see better from over there.”

You wave him towards the beach. You know exactly where you’re headed; while you’ve never camped in this specific spot, you know how to reach your favorite place to stargaze. Spencer looks at you with something between curiosity and admiration as you lead the way with a flashlight. The forest is still awake and responsive at this hour, crickets chirping and leaves rustling as you step through the greenery.

You find it quickly; the boardwalk is unmistakable. It’s a field, like the ones you’ve been surrounded by all day. Spencer identifies the leaves as rhubarb plants as you step onto the wooden pathway. While any field would work, this one is ideal; the sky opens up as far as the eye can see, the trees parting to admire the world above.

“Here.” You turn off your flashlight, allowing your eyes to adjust to the low, blue moonlight. Spencer follows you as you crouch, laying with your back to the boardwalk. This is what you came for.

“Oh my God.” Your face splits into a grin once you hear Spencer’s voice, low and gravelly against your ear. The sky above is endless; all you can see is the expanse of the stratosphere, stars bright and darkness vast over your heads. You tear up a little; you always do. It feels like the universe is leaning down to meet you in the middle, pressing its face to yours.

“Tell me what you see. I know that you know what we’re looking at.”

You scoot a little closer, trying to absorb a little of his warmth. Eyes still fixed on the sky, Spencer begins.

“There’s so little light pollution. I...I’ve never seen this many stars at once.” His eyes narrow a little, and you watch as he absorbs the world above him.

“That’s Orion.” He points to a collection of stars to your left, a few brighter than the others.

“Those three in a row, that’s his belt. You might be able to see his bow, too, to the right.

The brightest one is six hundred and forty light years away. Betelgeuse.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and you follow his every word. You can see the warrior above you, the stars winking at you as Spencer describes them.

You fall quiet after a few minutes, and the only sound is that of your slow, synced breaths. You feel as though Spencer has peeled the sky open and revealed it to you; with him, you can see another world entirely.

“We’re looking into the past right now.”

You turn to look at him, a laugh ready to bubble past your lips. You look back up at the sky, where he’s pointed to the Big Dipper.

“That’s Dubhe. We’re seeing light from before we were born.”

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek and cooling before it reaches your nose. There is so much you would like to tell him before you are both light, visible in this moment from somewhere far away.

As you stare up into the starscape, you gasp. There’s a shooting star, dragging across the Pleiades and heading towards the western skies.

“Make a wish,” You breathe. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out to Spencer, lacing your fingers together. Turning your head, you watch as he grins up at the sky. His features are softer when drenched in moonlight; the slope of his nose, the arch of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw all bathed in a dreamy quality.

After the shooting star winks out, trailing across the dark and blinking into nothing, the silence feels heavier.

“What did you wish for?”

You’re sure that he can hear your heartbeat. The steady thrum of your heart against your ribcage is a drum, urging you forward. You watch his brow knit in consideration, before his gaze finally meets yours. His eyes are more hazel than you’ve ever noticed, each fleck of gold striking you as a star.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

His voice is soft, laced with something solemn beneath the surface. You nod, stealing a glance at the sky before you swallow your fear.

"I wished for you." You say quietly.

You don’t know who moves first, only that there’s a brief shuffle before you’re holding each other. He reaches to cradle your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally reaching your lips. Your hands ghost over his jaw, trailing down his neck as he laces his fingers into your hair. You can’t quite breathe, nor think, only repeat a simple refrain over and over, a prayer passing over your lips and into the dark.

Spencer.

---

The sun rises lazily, pink and orange brushstrokes against a blue sky. You’re awake early—to put it lightly, Spencer’s tent is cramped—and it feels good to breathe in the morning air. The team is still asleep, a few yards away as you stretch and take in the cool dawn.

You think maybe, this is all a dream. You’re not sure how else this would exist, so perfectly and wholly true. The universe is a benevolent thing, after all. There is no other explanation for Spencer Reid, the man the world got right.

“You have pancake batter in your hair,” You say, a little mournfully but still laughing. Still layered in jackets and hats, you feel as though you’re being warmed from the inside out. Spencer’s eyes widen, and he reaches up with a batter-covered hand to feel his hair. You laugh again, a little too loudly this time, and he shushes you between chuckles.

The campstove is quiet, the gas running blue as Spencer flips a pancake over. You neglected to tell him that folding the pancake mix in slowly would prevent...explosions. If you had warned him, you wouldn’t have the chance to kiss the flour off of his face, smiling against his cheeks. With a mittened hand, you brush the powder off of his eyelashes.

“Chocolate chips, right?”

You smile, nodding. He remembers how you like your pancakes. Turning away from him, you rifle through a storage bin for something you packed.

“Are you looking for syrup? It’s over here.” He calls, his voice soft against the hushed sounds of morning. The birds have begun to chirp, calling to each other in alternating duets. You shake your head, and present him with a contraption.

His eyes light up, and he looks at you with something a little wild and entirely resembling devotion. You reveal with your other hand a bag of coffee grounds from the coffee shop near your house, grinning up at him.

“I can’t believe you brought me a French press.”

You grin, turning your face as your cheeks burn. Maybe you had hoped this would happen, in slightly different words. After you both tuck into your pancakes, leaning over a plate on the same side of a picnic bench, you watch the sunrise. A bundle of puffy jackets and intertwined hands, you press your back into Spencer’s embrace.

As you watch the moon recede into the horizon, you hope that your past is standing hand and hand, gazing at you fondly.

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux’ “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 6: “The Enchanted Violin”

<< Previous Chapter

Artwork by @coatntails on deviantart

“The Enchanted Violin” introduces us to the childhood friendship of Raoul and Christine - but first, we learn that Christine did not continue to triumph at the Opera, but only sang once more in society at the invitation of the Duchess of Zurich and, after that, cancelled everything including a charity concert. She was apparently terrified by her triumph during the gala night, and didn’t “recognize herself” anymore when she sings. Before, she was emotionally distant and indifferent because she had shut everything out so she could cope with the grief of her father’s death. The amount of passion and feeling that Erik’s lessons had to rekindle in her must have felt terrifying and perhaps even painful to her. Plus, baring your heart and soul on stage like she did is, by itself, something that can indeed feel terrifying! In this chapter, we learn that Raoul has indeed been watching her performances at the Opera for some time, but also felt that she seemed indifferent to everything and everyone - until her soul finally came alive again with her gala night performance.

Philippe de Chagny has even tried to further her career with the managers to please his little brother, but Christine does not wish for him to do so. Raoul tries to seek her out, but without success. One morning though, Raoul receives a letter from Christine, assuring him that she has not forgotten the “little boy who fetched her scarf from the sea”, and informing him that she will be going to Perros-Guirec to visit her father’s grave on the anniversary of his death. Perros-Guirec is a seaside village in Brittany, quite far from Paris.

Raoul doesn’t lose time and rushes to the Montparnasse station to follow her, but fails to catch the morning train and has to wait all day for the night train (Raoul tends to have a bit of bad luck following him around).

This chapter also gives us a short biography of Christine Daaé. In the novel - contrary to the musical - she is described as blonde and blue-eyed, slender and somewhat short-sighted, which would presumably give her a bit of a dreamy, unfocused expression if nobody hands her a pair of glasses (I guess Erik wouldn’t mind her short-sightedness either!). She was born in the village of Skotelof near Uppsala in Sweden. Her father (who does not have a name in the novel) sang in the church choir and taught Christine to read music before she could read books. He also had a well-known reputation as the best violinist in Scandinavia, and was often requested to play at social gatherings. Christine’s mother died when she was 6 years old, and her father became a travelling musician and took Christine around the country. They were discovered by Professor Valerius and taken to Götheburg, where Christine received her training. His wife, Mama Valerius, treated Christine like a daughter. When the Valerius family moved to France, Christine and her father accompanied them. Papa Daaé did not adjust well to life in Paris though, and often found solace in his music only, locking himself in his room for hours at a time. The only time of the year he enjoyed was their yearly trip to the seaside town of Perros-Guirec, because the ocean reminded him of his native Sweden. Missing his nomadic lifestyle, he decided to once again to spend some time every year as a travelling musician with Christine - which is how Christine came to meet Raoul, who was then staying with his aunt - the one that kindled his love for the sea. Raoul heard Christine sing and was so utterly captivated by her angel’s voice that he started following her around with his governess. One day, at the bay of Trestraou, the wind was so strong that it blew Christine’s scarf into the sea, and Raoul ran after it fully clothed and rescued it. They became friends that summer and played together often, and Christine’s father also gave him some violin lessons.

Bay of Trestraou, where Raoul rescued Christine’s scarf from the sea (image from france-voyage.com)

Both Raoul and Christine loved listening to ancient tales and legends, especially the ones that Papa Daaé told them. Among those stories is the famous “Little Lotte”, who loved listening to the Angel of Music while she fell asleep. It’s a little funny that while they listen to the story, all Raoul does is look at Christine’s golden hair and blue eyes, imagining her as “Little Lotte”, and Christine’s thoughts are focused on how lucky Little Lotte was to hear the Angel of Music. So Raoul dreams about Christine while Christine dreams about the Angel of Music, which kind of foreshadows the setup of the love triangle in the novel.

To be honest, I can’t really blame Christine for thinking she was indeed hearing the Angel of Music in her dressing-room, since the description given fits Erik perfectly:

“No one ever saw him, but he made himself heard to those predestined to hear him. It often happened when they least expected it, when they were sad and disheartened. Then they suddenly heard heavenly harmonies and a divine voice, and they would remember it all their lives. People visited by the angel were left with a kind of flame burning inside them.”

I guess her father couldn’t really find the Angel of Music in heaven, so he sent her the next best thing that was available… Erik might not have been a heavenly angel, but the effect he had on her amounted to the same that is attributed to the Angel of Music in her father’s stories.

After their parting following the first summer that they spent together, Christine and Raoul saw each other again three years later, when they were “no longer children” - perhaps 13 to 14 years old, which would put their first meeting at about age 10 to 11. Professor Valerius has died in the meantime, and Christine’s father has started suffering from a cough. Raoul and Christine’s meeting is a little awkward this time - both seem to be developing tender feelings for each other, but are also very reserved. Their current relationship has now outgrown the sweet and carefree friendship of childhood. Raoul is quite infatuated with her, but he is also badly affected by his jealousy plus the unresolved issue of a peasant girl like Christine not being a suitable choice as a wife for a Viscount - and Christine being acutely aware of that. So yes - it’s complicated between those two. Afterwards, she tries to forget him and dedicate herself to her career instead. But when her father finally dies, her soul and her voice die with him, and even though her talent is still enough to gain entry into the Paris Conservatory, she cannot not bring any more enthusiasm to her studies, and just goes through the motions to please Mama Valerius.

Christine apparently travelled to Perros by herself, staying at the “Auberge du Soleil Couchant”. Raoul is looking forward to speaking to her alone without interference. Despite having sailed around the world, Leroux describes Raoul as “pure as a virgin” and overwhelmed by his love for Christine, who occupies his every thought - in fact, Raoul seems to obsess over things a lot in the novel, not just about Christine. When he finally meets her as she returns from mass, he jumps straight to the point and tells her that he loves her and cannot live without her - which is unfortunately not “what she wanted to hear”. Their conversation goes totally wrong and as his jealous temper gets the better of him, he behaves terribly and they get into a fight (over Erik, of course) to the point where she runs off and locks herself in her room.

Raoul, saddened by the way his meeting with Christine turned out, wanders off towards the graveyard to pray for Christine’s father, and finally sits down, looking out over the moor where he and Christine used to look for goblins when they were children. He never saw any, while Christine always saw lots despite her lack of proper eyesight - which shows that despite both of them being described as “dreamy”, Christine’s imagination is a lot more lively than Raoul’s. She finally comes out to make another try of confiding the secret of the Angel of Music who speaks to her to Raoul, but when she feels he doesn’t take her seriously and questions her virtue, she storms off again, truly angry this time and refusing to come down for dinner.

At night, about 11:30 pm, she finally sneaks out to visit her father’s grave at the Perros graveyard and meet the “Angel of Music” (aka Erik) there. This is obviously the scene which inspired “Wishing you were somehow here again”, though the original context is a little bit different. Raoul climbs out the window and follows her to the graveyard. Raoul’s account of the graveyard scene is given via a transcript of Raoul’s testimony to Commissary Mifroid a few weeks later, after Christine’s abduction. The use of this “source” is one of the things that have given rise to the theory that this is a “detective novel”, however Leroux uses it more like a historian would use a source - it’s just one of different documents that he uses (or claims to use) to prove that his story is indeed true.

Christine doesn’t notice Raoul following her. Her rendez-vous with the Angel of Music is supposedly taking place at exactly midnight at her father’s grave, so Christine is in a bit of a hurry to get there in time. It is still winter, so the graves are covered in snow and lit by the clear moonlight. Christine, who apparently has nerves of steel since she has no qualms about going to graveyards at midnight and then sitting down calmly next to a pile of actual skulls and bones, kneels down to pray when divinely beautiful violin music is suddenly heard, but no player is seen anywhere. The sounds of the piece,  the “Resurrection of Lazarus” are so enthralling that Raoul himself is reminded of the legend of the Angel of Music.

When the music finally ceases, Raoul hears a sound from the pile of bones, and assumes that the invisible musician might be hiding there. Christine leaves, and suddenly the skulls start rolling towards Raoul, and he sees a shadow enter the church. He chases after him and manages to grab his cloak, and when the shadow turns around, he sees a terrifying death’s-head with burning eyes which shocks him so much that he faints. I assume that Erik was not wearing a mask here, and that his unmasked face was weapon enough to take Raoul out without any further need for fireballs or swordfights.

The next morning, Raoul is found half-frozen in the little church, and Christine and the landlady of the Inn both take care to revive him.

Historic images of Perros-Guirec from phantomstheater.weebly.com

Artwork by CoatNTails on deviantart

Next Chapter >>

[iridescent-hallucinations]

When the Night Comes

Mildly Angsty Jemily Fic

Summary:  Emily Prentiss finds comfort in the darkness. Jennifer Jareau is a shining beacon of light. Can their worlds ever really collide?

Pairing: Jennifer “JJ” Jareau x Emily Prentiss 

Word Count: 1921

Read it on AO3

Nightfall is easier. The cloak of darkness wraps around her body, concealing as well as comforting. People are usually afraid of the dark, but not Emily. She embraced the darkness a long time ago, specifically, on a mild Italian evening, just 15 years old, when the light was too much to bare and the hand wrapped around hers as they walked through church was pulling her from the depths of despair.

No, there’s safety in the shadows, the shadows don’t expose the secrets buried deeply in ones soul. Maybe that’s the reason this job came so easily to her, she didn’t even flinch at the horrors presented to them on a daily basis. Maybe that’s why she took so naturally to profiling; she already chose to dwell among the darkness.

With the daytime comes the scrutiny, people can gaze and the trauma is harder to hide. That’s why she buries herself in her job, so the stares are averted from her, onto the monsters and the demons that walk this Earth. It’s easy to lose oneself in the false sense of security created by the sun light, that’s why she strives to push it away, waiting until night comes to truly show herself.

As she sits in her apartment, drinking alone, she has to admit that the days have been easier since joining the BAU, Penelope, Derek, Spencer, JJ, they break up the danger. Learning to trust them has been a difficult road to walk - there’s a sense of dread that swells in the bottom of Emily’s stomach at the thought.

None of them really knew her, she felt a sense of bereavement at this thought, the little girl inside of her was screaming for her to just give in, be known, be seen, be heard. It had been too long since she’d felt any sense of commitment to another human being.

The second she felt a pang of belonging Emily knew she was in trouble. If she belonged she risked being hurt, all those years of moving pillar to post had given her enough rejection to last a lifetime. The last time she belonged anywhere were the darkest moments of her life, pretending to play house with a mob boss; a killer. But that wasn’t her, that was Lauren, she once again reassured herself, that life had been a constructed reality. It wasn’t real.

So then why did it hurt so much? If it was all just make believe, why did she risk it all to protect that little boy? Surely the affection she felt for Declan was real? But if so, was there some part of her that actually felt warmth towards Ian?

The thought sharply slammed her back to reality. Sighing to herself Emily shifted, standing from the single seater she’d been lounging in to pour herself another drink - Gin and Tonic. If her mind was going to do this tonight, she needed the liquid confidence to take the edge off. Watching the clear liquid fill her glass, Emily tried her best to think of something, anything, other than Lauren.

Picking up the glass with both hands, Emily made her way back to the chair. Resuming her position, she drank deeply, wincing at the way the alcohol strummed harshly at her taste buds. She knew this wasn’t productive, she should have just gone to the bar with everyone else, but when Derek had asked if she was joining, something in her knew what tonight would bring - and it was not going to be the night she unravelled to them. Night time can only bring cover if you let it.

Alarm bells and the way she saw disappointment flicker across JJ’s face told Emily she was making the right choice. Her thoughts had wandered from her old life, she was pleased to be thinking of something else. Jennifer. Emily mouthed the word, no noise coming out, testing how it tasted on her tongue. Like honey. Sweet, but with the potential to be sickening.

Emily had been struggling with her feelings for the younger woman for a while now, she blamed herself, it was typical of her to read too much into things. The looks, the comments, the touches, Emily had documented every single one, logged them into some sort of database in her brain to be over analysed when she was alone. It wasn’t the fact that JJ was a woman that was throwing Emily off, she had found out quite quickly into adulthood that she had a preference for women, it was the tugging in her chest and the tightening at the pit of her stomach.

If Emily didn’t know better she would have thought she was in love. A preposterous idea. To be in love was not part of her plan. If she was in love, she left herself exposed to all kinds of pain, she left herself open, vulnerable to attack. All of this seemed perfectly logical to the brunette, who had almost drained the last of her drink, staring into the glass, watching the ice clink against the side.

Sighing again, Emily swallowed the last of the liquid, waiting for the coolness of the sharp alcohol to hit her stomach. As her head span slightly from intoxication, the darkness settled in, it’s where she belonged, and Jennifer Jareau was not darkness. JJ was light, bright, stunning, she was everything that Emily longed to be when she was young.

The blonde was graceful, strong but subtle, she illuminated any room she walked into, and Emily was very aware that this caused her to retreat. Jennifer Jareau could single handedly unravel all of the hard work Emily had put in to remaining unseen, in the shadows.

The cover of darkness could only do so much when the younger woman was around, the brightness she emits had the potential to eradicate even the most stubborn of shadows that Emily longed to remain hidden in.

A rap echoed from within the apartment causing Emily to jump at the sudden sound. Immediately on high alert, she stood, quickly reaching for her weapon she kept in the drawer of the living room. How sad that she felt so wary in her own home - the thought was passing - but a split second, before she made her way to the front door. Another knock, louder this time, but Emily had braced herself for it, the sound didn’t pierce the silence like it had the first time. Creeping quietly to the door, Emily looked through the peep hole.

Exhaling a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, Emily relaxed, lowered her gun and placing it on the chest next to her keys. Blonde hair and blue eyes greeted her on the other side of the door. Why JJ had decided to show up at such an hour puzzled her briefly, had something happened? She was sure she’d had her phone on loud. The third knock caught her off guard, startling her but grounding her back in the moment.

Swinging the door open, Emily couldn’t hide the obvious confusion knitted in her eyebrows. JJ saw it immediately, and chuckled slightly at the brunette before her. Engaged in an accidental stand off, the two women just stood there, blinking at each other for a good few seconds before JJ finally spoke.

“Hey, you gonna let me in or?”

Realising she was still blocking the doorway with her body, Emily’s mind raced through a hundred different scenarios in a fraction of a second, stepping back and allowing JJ in.

“Gosh, of course, sorry - I, I hadn’t been expecting anyone this late.” Emily offered, closing the door behind the blonde.

Finally settling on an emotion, Emily was not thrilled to realise it was panic. JJ’s presence was already filling her apartment with a soft but bright hue, this was not part of the plan, this was not part of the plan; she repeated the thought as if it were a mantra.

“So what can I do for you?” The brunette finally managed, stepping further into the apartment, cautious not to get too close to the blonde and her ethereal glow, who was stood in the middle of the room.

“Can’t a gal just stop by to say hi?” JJ laughed, still finding Emily’s rigidity amusing. “Actually... there was something I wanted to talk about.”

JJ had obviously also had a drink, she wasn’t drunk - Emily could see that in her piercing blue eyes - but she was loose, looser than usual. Emily checked herself quickly, noticing her hard stance, and dropped her shoulders that she hadn’t realised she was tensing. Taking in JJ’s words, Emily realised it was normal for friends to visit each other out of the blue, it saddened her briefly to think she had never had anyone to stop by unannounced before joining the BAU.

“Of course, you’re always welcome here, can I get you a drink?” Emily asked, ignoring the way JJ’s eyebrows had lifted at her casual comment. Friendship was as foreign to Emily as Russian was to the average Americans.

“If you’re offering - I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” JJ answered, attempting to hide her nerves by deflecting attention away from herself and pointing to Emily’s discarded Gin glass on the coffee table.

“Oh, I was, uh, just having a nice G&T, takes the edge off after a long day I find, makes for a good night cap really, although it’s bitter as hell, they didn’t have any pomegranate tonic at the store,” Emily cursed at herself for being so awkward, why did she say so many words? No one asked, she was better at communicating than this. Making her way to the kitchen counter to pour JJ a glass, she blamed the mild intoxication.

JJ followed Emily into the kitchen, bringing the discarded glass with her.

“You might need this if you’re going to have one too,” JJ said, placing the glass down next to Emily.

Looking up to meet JJ’s stare, Emily dropped the cap of the gin bottle onto the floor, the brightness JJ exuded was getting dangerously close to the shadow Emily was trying to lurk in.

Bending to reach for the cap, Emily took a deep breath to compose herself, and thankfully, by the time she returned to pouring the drinks, JJ had wandered back into the living room.

“Pull it together Prentiss, this was not part of the plan” she muttered to herself, she grabbed the glasses and made her a way back into the other room silently praying the cover of night would disguise the way her heart was racing and her hands were shaking.

Unbeknownst to Emily, JJ was having her own internal conflict. It had been a long time coming, but sat in that bar, watching her closest friends flirt, dance, and laugh with other people, JJ couldn’t shake the picture of a certain brunette from her mind. Clouding the edges of the image, JJ always saw a shadow creeping around the outline of Emily. Whatever was hiding there, JJ decided she was going to find out. After all, isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? Shine a light on the darkness and hold your hand?

Shaking her head, JJ knew she was kidding herself. Emily Prentiss was more than a friend to her, she just hadn’t worked out how to express this in a way that wouldn’t ruin everything if it all fell apart. Instead of shining a light on Emily, maybe it was time to find her in the darkness.

[danddymaro]

Dio Brando X Reader

Pairing(s) : Dio x Reader x (somewhat ) Jonathan | Part 1 Phantom blood | word count:  1528

And of course she likes Jonathan. 

This is the first part. Fair warning,  It won’t go directly in line with the actual story/ cannon events, but rather, go its own direction. 

(no worries it won’t be too long.)

Ages: Geez we never find out Dio’s age, but they were around the same right?

In pt.1 Episode 1 Jonathan is said to be 12. So i’ll put the reader at the same age and Dio just one older, because it just feels right that way.

Right here, they are at those ages. (12-13)

Lets start off sweet, shall we?

Part. 1 | Pudding

She never asked for much, because she had a lovely life. 

She had a roof over  her head, a caring family, so to speak, and she was in good health.

She wasn’t blessed with finery herself, but her simple upbringing humbled her into realizing there was more to life than riches.

What mattered most was being a good person. 

To help others, to spread kindness to everyone despite their social status...

Just as she leaned from the Joestars.

As she walked along the hall, she made sure to be quiet and not make  a sound, knowing that it wouldn't be in her best interests if anyone found out where she was headed, much less to know what exactly she was doing at such a late hour.

With a stealthy, little tap to the door (f/n) waited patiently, hoping it was enough to grab the attention of the person inside.

Having no luck, she repeated the same action, but this time with a bit more force. To add on, she brought her mouth close to the crease on the door, her voice low and secretive, “JoJo...” she called out, hoping she wouldn’t have to go beyond that and be louder.

“JoJo...It’s me, (f/n)” She added, waiting. 

It took a moment, but he responded back, sounding surprised, “(f/n)?”

He opened the door with the same look of shock she envisioned right on his face, “What are you doing here?” he asked with bright eyes. 

Immediately he moved aside, letting her slip in so he could close the door behind her and lessen their chances of being caught. 

“I know it’s late,” she started, “ but I came to give you this,” she said while extending her arms out slightly, a small cup and dessert spoon presented to him.

" Pudding?"  Jonathan said confused, looking down at the small cup in her hand with widened blue eyes."...Butterscotch pudding,"  he added softly, his shining eyes softening as he brought them back up to the young lady's face.

"You brought this for me, right? " he said just as gently, glowing with appreciation, already knowing the answer, but being left stunned for a better choice of words. 

"Yes," she said with a small smile, handing him the cup.

" You really went through the trouble?" He asked her , a small smile of his own present as his hands momentarily grazed over hers, his slightly larger ones barley covering hers.

It hadn’t been the first time she’d troubled herself, and yet he always found himself agape. 

Ever since they were children, she’d shown to be sweet and thoughtful, as well  as a true friend.

Eagerly she nodded, " It's just… your father sent you to your room without dessert," she answered him, saddened at the idea. " And from what I saw, your plate seemed as though you only got a couple of bites out of it…" she went on, remembering just how untouched it seemed. 

" I contemplated on whether or not to bring you something else, something to keep your stomach full until morning time," she added, " But I...I'm sorry I just wasn't sure if you were truly hungry, or if you'd even accept this to begin with," she explained, having known that the possibility of rejection was there.

Perhaps he wasn’t hungry alt all...

Perhaps he was too upset to even think about eating...

Or maybe, just maybe, he’d decided he no longer needed her...

The latter of the first two was a far stretch, but sometimes, every now and then , it would run through her thoughts.

Lately, since she’d grown older, it became something she feared over more.

Ever since she’d become to blossom, her feeling also grew as well as the pain of possible rejection.

‘Jonathan’s rejection,’ 

It would surely sting.

“I understand if you wouldn’t want to take it, I knew it was a possibility, and yet I still came,” she admitted, “ But of course, if you want, I can still go back, I know everyone else has retired to their quarters, your father included!" She informed him, her eyes shining with determination as she informed him of the last part.

"If you wish so, I'll be as silent as a mouse and come back in no time!" She said with a sure nod, turning to sneak her way back when he stopped her , his unoccupied hand wrapped around her wrist. 

"That won't be necessary," he said with a breathy chuckle, both touched by her efforts and amused by her eagerness.

The surge of  energy within her dispersed and went away, causing her shoulders to melt down, her eyes large and doe like as she stared up at him, " Are you certain?" She said with concern. 

"Because… I c-can go," she said with less bravado.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you more,” he started, “Besides, this was more than enough for me, “ he assured her, glowing soft pink, knowing she made such a fuss about him.

His face heated more as his eyes fell down to the hold, remembering he was still touching her , “ It's kind… you truly are a gem (f/n) ," he told her. " But you shouldn't be here to begin with," he added, his brows creased with worry. “I truly do appreciate the gesture, but if you were to get caught...I could never live with myself knowing you’ve taken such a heavy fall,” He explained.

“It’s not like when we were children,” he reminded her, knowing that now she wasn't just  a child, but growing into being a woman, A proper one at that. 

And he was also not a little boy anymore, but a growing man.

The sternness his father punished him with was evident that the time of mistakes was over, and there were true seventies to his blunders. 

‘The same goes for her,’ He reminded himself, knowing that as a man, A gentleman,  it was his duty to protect her. 

And as a friend, it was his obligation to steer her away from danger.

“I know,” she answered back, half-hardheartedly smiling, “But old habits die hard,” she said with chagrin.

She didn’t want to stop, because if she could, she’d dedicate herself to him fully, making sure his blue eyes never had a drop of sadness in them ever again.

Smiling he shook his head, “ I know, but for me...(f/n), please,” He pleaded her.

Sadly nodding she reluctantly agreed, “Very well...” she responded, though sounding ever bit as unenthusiastic as she felt.

Pursing his lips he held her hand, innocently squeezing it in comfort.

‘Do you remember when Danny tore apart you're dolly?’ He suddenly wondered, remembering how much she’d cried back then, realizing she wore a  similar look of sadness, 

‘We’d really been nothing but children, six? Seven? I remember he was still a puppy.’ He reminisced, beginning to notice how much she’d really grown, as well as how much time had passed between then.

‘I had to hold you're hand...Just like this, ’ he added, feeling her own hand melt into his,

‘ Only that got you to smile. ’

And sure enough, his action  rose a gentle smile out of her , and looking up at him she nodded , understanding.

‘I miss those days,’ He thought with reminiscence.

“Though we can’t do this anymore in the future, I think that perhaps we can enjoy tonight, right?” he asked her with hopefulness. “ For old time’s sake,” he continued,  a touch of mischief present in his tone while he grinned boyishly.  

She immediately perked, nodding. 

“I’d love that Jojo,” She said merrily.

She then plopped herself onto the ground, eagerly falling into conversation with him, watching him eat the dessert while chuckling at her ramblings, something they were well aware would normally bring forth punishment. 

It felt like they were children again, being able to talk about anything their hearts desired, being as close as they wanted to without fearing the consequences of their proximity.

Without eyes to judge them they fell back in time to moments where their innocence wasn’t deemed improper behavior.

‘ I wish it could be like this forever, Just you and I Jonathan. 

With no judgment.

 With no fear.

 With no one to tell us what they think is happening.’ 

Time passed them rather quickly, soon leaving them standing before each other, ready to say their farewells for the night.

Sweetly he stared at her, for reasons unknown to him, growing shyer as she kept her eyes on him,

‘How have I just realized how beautiful  you truly are?’ he wondered to himself, trailing his eyes down to her level, noticing how much her former chubby, cherub face had begun to mature. 

“Goodnight Jonathan,” she said softly, also feeling tickled at his presence, wondering herself how she’d yet to realize until then that his features had begun to become sharper.

He’d also outgrown her already , and she was certain he wasn’t done growing yet, 

‘He’ll without a doubt be a handsome man,’ she told herself, knowing it to be true.

Responding back just as gently to her, he also said his goodnight, his heart bouncing happily as he took a mental picture of her happy grin.

Pt. 2 : Silver Tongue Fiend 

[cherryplasmids]

☆ opportunities ☆

pairing: nick jakoby x reader fandom: bright—after movie sequence anon request: You could write anything about Nick Jakoby , especially something sexy , and I would be super happy!! 😈😈 notes: NSFW (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)  (this is my second smut piece, my first with a male character so please don’t roast me for this)

—check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

           After another tiring day filled with paperwork, one arrest, and nasty insults, Nick just about had it. Even after he saved the world (along with Ward), the working conditions within the Los Angeles Police Department remained the same. Day in and day out, he's being overlooked for serious cases to do intern filing. The harassment has dwindled a tad bit since Pollard had been disposed of, but Nick still feels the suppression by his peers and superiors. No matter what he does, it'll never be enough.

The only good thing about being the only Orc is the fact that he can do nightly patrols alone. He can listen to smooth jazz or orcish metal without Ward bugging him about it. The thoughts swirling in his head can be sifted through in quiet. There's plenty of endless opportunities he can grasp onto during night patrols.

One of those opportunities is the chance to speak to you without Ward pestering him to hurry up. No, the nighttime allowed Nick to savor a few, undisturbed moments with you before he clocks out.

By the time Nick pulls up to the bodega you work in, it's a downpour with thunder in the background. Surprisingly, the usual shining yellow lights are completely out and the front of the store is closed up. Nick looks down at the dashboard where the red digital clock shines: 11:37 pm. His forehead furrows. The bodega's closing time is 1 am, not 11 pm. It's odd and a bit saddening. Nick deflates at the missed opportunity to see your gorgeous smile. Even more so when he realizes he has tomorrow off.

He'll wait for the next chance.

Putting on the windshield on the fastest mode, Nick peels out of the sidewalk and continues his patrol. He has less than half an hour left on his shift. He'll make the best of it by driving slow since the usual bodies walking the streets were gone to avoid being drenched. The thunder calmed his sadness as he drove. However, he noticed someone walking the streets. Ward's voice automatically rang through his brain, ‘don't be too nice, it only causes problems.’

But when did Nick ever truly listen to Ward's negativity? No, he wasn't going to let someone potentially get pneumonia. So he pulls over to the shaking figure whose umbrella is practically broken. It doesn't shield the person from the rain at all.

Nick rolls down the window. "Excuse me!" The person halts and turns to him. He can't see who they are through the blankets of rain. "Would you like a ride? Can't have you getting sick."

Their head frantically nods before bolting inside his vehicle. Instead of sitting in the backseat, they slide into the front with him. "Nick, you are my guardian angel."

At the voice, Nick freezes. He knows it better than he knows most protocols for his job. Like a bee flocking to fresh flowers after a rainy day, he constantly attempts to be around that voice for rejuvenation. But that only happens when he's prepared to see you. He needs to hype himself up before speaking to you. After he saw the bodega closed, the energy simmered down to calmness. Now, he's anxious because the pep talk motivation is all gone. He knows he'll just make a right fool of himself in front of you.

You begin to shed your soaked jacket and the cardigan underneath before throwing them on the car floor along with your side purse. After squeezing out the excess water from your hair, you turn to greet Nick with a smile. It takes a lot of willpower for Nick not to stare at your hardened nipples.

"Hey," His voice cracks and he wants to die. "What were you doing walking in this storm?"

You dramatically threw yourself on the backrest before huffing. "Fernando told me to head home early because of the rain, but he fucking forgot to pick me up. Talking about being busy and shit. We all know he's too busy fucking Maria. I wanted to call Daryl but it's practically midnight and I know he would drag me through the wringer if I dared to bother him. Then, I was like," You gasp, "I can always count on his really cute but shy partner." You give Nick a sly look and he looks away bashfully. To keep himself occupied, he begins driving away. "But I realized that he never gave me his number so I just decided to walk instead."

Nick never knows how to respond to your teasing or flirting. The suave style his inner self tries to hype him with never sees the light of day. Instead, it's replaced with stuttering. "I drove by the store." Again his voice cracks, so he says it again. "To look for you. I mean to get a red-Redbull."

The expression on your face lets him know that you definitely heard what he said. "You do that often, you know?" He looks at you expectantly while making a right turn. "I thought in the beginning when I would flirt with you, that it was one-sided. You always look so damn uncomfortable. But then, Daryl tells me sometimes when you don't have the night shift, that you still pull up to the Fernando's at midnight. I thought to myself, why would Nick do that if he obviously doesn't like me?" You snap your fingers. "But then I started noticing the little glances you threw at me, the little compliments, and the adorable flush of dark blue on your skin. I knew right then and there that the feelings are definitely mutual.

"And yet, you never make a move." You sigh and mumble an "I don't get it."

This is the most conversation Nick has ever had with you and of course, he's fucking nervous. Inner Nick never prepared him for such a conversation. At this point, he just wants to jump out of the car and jog to the police station. He'll make an elaborate story about how he got hijacked by a gang. Yeah, he'll get more ridicule for it, but he doesn't care. As if sensing his dilemma, you reach over, grab his arm and tell him to drive a different way to your house. He doesn't question it but he's confused by the time he drives into deserted dirt-covered land. He turns to ask you about it, but the smolder you give shuts him up. Your hand returns to his bicep and it flexes underneath your fingers. After feeling his muscles for a bit, your hand travels to hold his chin. He watches you carefully, lips parted and eyes wide.

"Tell me what you want."

Nick stutters for a moment, unable to comprehend the situation. Is this a dream? It has to be. In this reality or any other alternate realities, you would not be sending out such delicious pheromones directed at him. Pants tightening and hands sweaty, Nick whispers his desires. He needs you now before he explodes.

You smile sweetly before leaning over and pressing a searing kiss on his lips. As soon as it connects, Nick is moaning as if you'd already sucked him off. A little pride swells in your chest. While your working on his lips, your other hand moves down to rub his bulge, eliciting even more moans. It's making you extremely hot. So, you move away from him and take your shirt off, leaving your bra-less chest hanging out. Eyes wide, Nick looks around frantically.

"We can't—" You cut him off with another kiss to his lips.

"Do you trust me?" He nods eagerly. "Then trust me when I say no one comes here. Now let's take this to the back, shall we?"

After quickly going from the front seat to the back while trying to stay as dry as possible, you pounce on Nick, hands roaming his broad chest while he tentatively moves his hands to cup your ass. A low moan comes from you and in turn, Nick grabs them harder. His lips begin to trail down your neck as you're grinding on his restricted cock.

You're chanting for Nick to fuck you already. Words like 'please', 'fuck me', and 'oh god' fill the air alongside low growls from Nick. Eventually, he's had enough with heavy petting and decides to let himself go. You barely get a chance to see his cock before he's ripping a hole in your leggings, moving your panties, and inserting himself within you. A loud gasp emits from your lips as you try to grind yourself down some more. But you can't.

No, Nick is in charge.

His powerful thighs give him the leverage to pound into you at unknown speeds. You once even said faster, and your boy complied swiftly. His hands grab your hips hard, using you as a rag-doll as his rhythm picks up and you're getting fucked to the point your seeing stars. There's drool seeping out of your opened mouth and Nick takes it as a chance to lick it up before digging his dull tusks into your neck. As soon as he does, the Big Bang happens behind your vision, the built orgasm just exploding.

Despite this, Nick continues. Your pussy is oversensitive but you don't tell him to stop because he hasn't gotten his fill yet. But you know you're going to orgasm again before he does. Not even a minute later, you do. At this point your begging Nick to finish. You begin to kiss his neck, searching for his sensitive spot. When you do, you suck on it as if your life depends on it. That does it for him.

A deep, loud orc growl emits from him as he says "Fuck!" Within seconds later, he's spilling his cum into you. It takes a moment for him to fully finish, but even after he's done, he still holds you.

"Oh, Nick." You breathily moan as you peel yourself off of him. Looking down, you find his uniform pants completely ruined—your juices mixed with his cum smearing his entire right pant leg. "We made such a mess."

Nick shyly smiles, his chest still moving at a rapid pace. "Sorry,"

Shaking your head, you lean forward into him and press a kiss on his sweaty collarbone. "You know how you can make it up to me?" He hums and closes his eyes, savoring your gentle touches. "By taking me to dinner and maybe, just maybe, making me your girlfriend."

His eyes snap open to watch your expression for a moment. A soft smile adorns your swollen lips, eyes on the verge of closing, and face devoid of any worries. His heart feels full of adoration, knowing that he wants to have you in his arms for as long as he can.

Without replying, Nick presses a kiss on your forehead, hoping that action alone can convey everything he wants to say.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1,823 published: april 7, 2020 edited: n/a

[kim-lexie]

start-up

unfortunately all good dramas must come to an end, and this drama was truly a dream. i fell in love with the characters and the premise of this one, and i am saddened to say goodbye to this cast of characters. 

i have also posted the nonsense that is a week-by-week to enjoy here if you wish. anyways, here we go...a drama review!

plot synopsis. 

‘start up’ follows the story of a group of 20-somethings as they journey to curate their own start up business. it specifically emphasizes the story of dalmi, her past and the letters she shared with jipyeong. jipyeong, an orphan that dalmi’s grandmother, mrs. choi took under her wing. jipyeong wrote dalmi letters that truly allowed her to overcome a tough time. years after these letters, dalmi is determined to find her ‘dosan’ the name that jipyeong and mrs. choi used to sign the letters. to protect their secret they find the real dosan to meet dalmi to portray a successful start up business man. and that is where our story begins to become tangled. and one knows how a good tangled story ensues as per the k-drama fashion...

my thoughts. *spoiler alert* 

dalmi, this girl is a queen. i love her determination and drive to get what she wants. i wish she wouldn’t cut herself short, but by the end you can see the growth that is undeniable. we love character development! i love how impacted she was by her dad, and that she never questioned her choice to stay in korea with her father. i loved their family’s relationship, it was precious and mutually supporting one another was an environment that allowed dalmi to believe in all the dreams she held in her heart. mrs. choi truly raised her to be confident in herself no matter her circumstances. 

jipyeong (to be referenced as hjp as well) my man. this man stole my heart. his backstory with mrs. choi was beautiful and i think he had the most character development in this drama. from how he acted at the start, to when they reconnected later, mrs. choi extended grace and never wavered in her love and support for jipyeong. it was endearing and heart breaking, because hjp had never experienced that from a family of his own until he was accepted by mrs. choi. i think this grace and mutual understanding was especially prominent when dosan and dalmi greeted mrs. choi at her new shop in one of the last episodes, after dosan had returned from america. as soon as she greeted them she knew that her jipyeong would be lonely and went straight for him to comfort him and support him in his grief. his character was honest, and unwavering once he found his goal. honestly, in everything else in the drama he faced he was determined and goal oriented however, when it came to dalmi he always second guessed himself. he was always so sure of his business but when it came to the close relationships around him he always questioned his worth. this would be his tragic downfall. but this is where we find a new jipyeong at the end of the drama and we appreciate character development. *insert slow clap for our hjp* 

dosan this man, honestly nam joohyuk was the reason i was initially interested in this drama. i love him and i was surprised when i found that he was not my favorite character. dosan was always unsure of himself and those around him, he immediately latched on to dalmi when he found her because of that confidence she radiated (can’t blame him because eventually he found that in himself). i wish he had been honest with her. so i know it is typically k-drama fashion to start a relationship based on a lie, still i am never happy when it happens in my drama. seriously by the end of this drama i was totally team hjp and i seriously cannot help but think back to the fact that if hjp had been honest at the beginning he may have ended up with dalmi. like come on. my heart is too fragile for this nonsense. i do appreciate that dosan, right after reading her letters ran straight after her without wavering. but if he loved her authenticity from the letters, why did he not give her the same benefit by being up front with her? 

the samsan tech crew. i loved this trio. they were ICONIC. chulsan a precious bean and i loved the relationship we got to see between chulsan and saha. i loved how their relationship developed and she totally fell head over heels for this man with his coding and caring self. because i clearly did not get the happy ending i wanted for dalmi and hjp, at least this ship went off sailing. i also came to love yongsan’s character, he seemed fishy at first when they went to sandbox however it quickly came to light why it was so. i loved that through all of this there was character development and accepting the things that you can’t change and wanted to change the things you had control over. 

sandbox, a place where dreams came to be birthed and reach their unlimited potential. i loved that it all started with sun-hak the ceo of sandbox who was inspired by dalmi’s father’s story about wanting to protect his daughter when she was learning to swing, and he put sand down so she wouldn’t be afraid of falling. it was so perfect, and that is exactly what sandbox became for them, a place for these small companies to get their footing to grow. i love the relationship that sunhak had with jipyeong and how they supported these young businesses. 

this makes an interesting juxtaposition for injae’s company, (injae is dalmi’s sister) to come in next to. nature morning is run by injae’s step-father, a man who abuses start ups and exploits young talent for profit. this sets the stage for injae to want to be set free and create her own business, because as long as she is under his family name she truly cannot make a name for herself. as she leaves she is overcomes multiple difficulties that her father’s company places in front of her, but the queen that she is takes them in stride and in the end becomes the company to beat. 

it was interesting to see how everyone came to be at sandbox. everyone with something to prove. and how once they were at sandbox all these crazy moments led them to their ultimate goal. their journey was not conventional but it made them stronger to overcome those moments when their company was split (frick you alex), and they had to come back together. 

to take a moment that three year time gap was something. i loved that dalmi grew and became more confident as her role as a ceo to get the job done. sisters were working together and growing their companies. i also held out so much hope because jipyeong was starting to get his act together and was becoming confident in himself and his intentions towards dalmi. even going over to their house playing go-stop and making banchan with the family, tears because he never had this in his life. but you know dosan was going to show up right at that moment he was going to say something...anyways, i love that dosan kept his promise and worked on not only the app for mrs. choi but the car because of the dream they birthed before the boys left for the states. and i knew the moment our dalmi walked hours in the woods to get to dosan that it was over for my ship and it twas going to sink. 

the app! oh my goodness. i love that this was their first idea for the company to help those who are unable to see. and i love that dosan was inspired by mrs. choi after overhearing her diagnosis. it was so sad to see how her vision declined throughout the show. but i am happy to see that their app was able to help her through this difficult journey. 

the smart car was such a moment. a dream they had in the top of the rooftop office led to a company that was bigger than any of them. truly incredible. literally so proud of our boys for their work and dedication to their dream to better the world. loved it. 

i seriously appreciated the ending of the drama and how they recapped all the moments they couldn’t fit into the few moments we had left. the living through photos we saw how they all kept their promises to each other. from dosan proposing to dalmi, chulsan and saha announcing their relationship, and even chulsan shaving his head. it was precious to see them all on this journey. i loved how we had them all going to the share holders meeting and injae and jipyeong walking in stride with them! also appreciate a full circle moment for hjp, when he sponsors a new start up connecting orphans with sponsors to help them in the difficult transition where hjp found himself with mrs. choi. (side note: i love the hint that the man who founded the start up had the same voice as young-sil, the smart device that grew on hjp throughout the drama.) (also, totally stand behind that one tweet i saw that said that the writers totally missed a major power couple moment for injae and jipyeong. because my dude and queen deserve to be happy to the fullest.)

i hope everyone enjoyed this drama as much as i did because it is definitely up there on my list of favorites from this year. i would rate it a 9.5 out of 10. 

the ost. 

‘future’ by non other than red velvet slays. i have this not only on my k-drama playlist but my monthly playlist. this is a bop. it is incredible, and they out did themselves with this one. 

‘running’ by gaho. that montage song that had all the moments they worked so hard in fast forward. ahhhh 

‘my dear love’ by suzy. her voice so angelic. and we thank our busy queen for making time to sing for the ost as well as star in the drama. 

‘blue bird’ by ailee. and ‘dream’ by jamie. ballad favorites. 

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

You are Lost, Yet you are Here: Chapter 1

“I can't take this anymore!!”

He turned around and ran off, disappearing from view, as he did, Hazel realised he was on a full-blown emotional meltdown.

With no hesitancy, she ran after him, ignoring her parents calling both of them to come back.

“Alec!” She yelled for him, she saw him run through a door and vanished into that room. She followed him, determined to help him.

When she entered the next room, it was the main dining area with the animatronics on stage performing for the audience, she stopped briefly to see where Alec would have gone and had seen a door on the side of the room swing closed on such a way that suggested someone ran into that room.

This plan she had was failing.

She ran to that door and opened it, turning left as she heard hurried footsteps running in that direction.

“Alec! Come back!” She yelled after him, trying to catch up with but the fact she still felt slightly unwell, and Alec was 15 years old and would regularly skateboard to and from school, she couldn't get close to him, she heard the footsteps fading away as the distance between them grew.

Hazel started crying again as she felt like her chance to be Alec's friend was slipping through her fingers fast.

Eventually she stopped running.

Where was she? These were endless hallways, there was no noise, she couldn't hear who she believed was Alec running.

She had started to wonder if it was possible she wasn’t following Alec but maybe an employee.

Maybe if it was him. Why did he stop running?

She slowly walked ahead looking for a room where Alec could have gone hiding in.

It only now occurred to her that this was mostly the back hallways for employees to travel between the break room and the main rooms.

It was all backstage.

And Alec could be anywhere.

Calling for him wouldn't help, it seemed he didn't want to talk. She needed to talk to him alone without their parents.

She knew the way Alec behaved was defined as classic bad kid behaviour, but the last few days had proved Alec could fall into line when he wanted to: if he had a reason to.

She thought if Alec saw how his parents reacted to him being good, he'd change for the better, but instead her parents became a lot more stressed by them seemingly switching roles, their concern had made Hazel rethink it then she went back to acting normally but Alec caught on and his bad attitude had risen back to the surface as quick as it had vanished.

Her plan B? The Yarg Foxy.

She knew Alec loved Foxy, she had hidden in her room while their parents were out and heard Alec downstairs brilliantly mimicking a pirate voice and accent, but when Hazel moved to go downstairs, Alec had quickly gone silent, obviously hearing her.

She had tried to be nice, she pointed out to him when “Talk like a Pirate Day” was and he immediately soured up saying:

“I'm not interested.”

When she told Alec she wanted him to stop hating her so much, she saw real confusion reflected in his eyes, like he was taken off guard, and he hated that, she felt like her parents essentially added fuel to his anger.

Seeing him rip the arm made her heart break, she realised Alec truly did hate her and nothing was going to change that. He had always hated her.

But she always loved him.

That's why she was searching for him in these dark rooms, hopefully they could have a real conversation, that’s all she wanted. She could learn to accept Alec hated her because she knew their parents treated them very differently and Alec had noticed.

She had done so many subtle kind acts for him, hoping he'd realise just how much she loved him. She would compliment how good he was at skateboarding, she would leave him alone if he asked, she'd leave the Pumpkin Pie alone because she knew it was Alec's favourite at Thanksgiving and she’d keep out of his room when he was in there.

Now it would be for nothing if she didn't find Alec and have a private conversation without their parents.

She had looked into another room which was completely empty, it would have absolutely nowhere for Alec to hide so she left and went into the next one.

The next room had various props, a bin full of broken toys, folded up tables against the wall, some arcade machines which reminded her of the time Alec went to an arcade and got a high score on Pac-Man while she watched him intrigued, as the seven year old she was, while Alec being a pretty silent twelve year old just ignored her.

She stepped into the room, looking around at places where Alec could easily hide.

“I can't take this anymore!!” Alec's angry voice echoed in her head.

What couldn't he take anymore? Family? Expecting to be nice to Hazel? Being labelled a bad kid?

She replayed the moment in her head.

“She gets everything she wants, and she's still not satisfied!”

Is that what he thought? She didn't have what she wanted the most, and she'd give anything to have it.

“She's such a phony! Can't you people see that?? She's the worst kind of spoiled, bratty fake! How can you not see that?”

His perspective of her was warped because of their parents.

“It's so predictable that Alec would ruin the party. It's so evitable that Alec would spoil perfect little Hazel's good time!”

He didn't ruin the party.

“I can't take this anymore!!”

He was turned into a villain..... And that's now driven him to insanity.

She swore in the last moment Alec's face was starting to break into sadness seeing his parents were not giving him support instead they were trying to avoid the impending storm that Alec's emotions were.

Alec couldn't help how he felt, Hazel could tell Alec felt frozen out by his parents and it aggravated him and sadden him to see that.

It also sadden Hazel.

She was starting to cry again, she wiped away her tears and started to think about going back to ask Aunt Gigi for help to find him. She could see how their relationship was great and she might be able to get though to him.

At that moment, she heard something, footsteps, she thought for a moment it was Alec but when she turned to the direction she saw a two foot bear approaching her.

She remembered what these were called, Lonely Freddy, it seems one was in this room and had heard her, so it came towards her.

“Are you crying? Why are you upset?” It asked standing in front of her.

“I'm okay..” She wiped away any lingering tears then went back to looking around the room, she glanced behind a shelf and didn't see any indication Alec was even there.

“You don't look okay... What don't you tell me what's troubling you friend?”

It couldn’t hurt and Hazel was sure these bears were programmed to help sad kids.

She did feel sad.

Alec was probably sad also.

“What's your name little girl?”

“Hazel.”

“What's your favourite colour?”

“I like green,” Hazel answered.

“What's your favourite food?”

“Pancakes.”

“Keep telling me about yourself friend, what's your best subject at school?”

“I like art...”

She didn't mean to say that.

Maybe it was just the fact somebody was actually asking her about her that made her open up a little.

Alec.

She needed to find him.

How did she forget for a minute that he was still missing?

Those blue eyes were like an ocean.

“Who do you live with?”

That was too personal but Hazel had answered, “My Mom, Dad and my older brother Alec.”

She wanted to say she needed to leave, she needed to find Alec.

“Who do you idolise?”

“My brother.”

She could only answer those questions.

She couldn't move.

Alec had hidden in a room with a few props like unique costumes. He hid in a closet inside the room so he could sit alone.

“It's not my fault.... It can't be...” He cried, the realisation of everything he did was crashing down on him.

He wiped his nose, he was still carrying the ripped toy and looked at it dead in the eye, “If you never appeared, I would have never.... I would never.... Never....”

It wasn't true.

His tears got worse, “I've made such an awful mess...”

“Hello?” He heard a voice call out, he went silent as he heard footsteps getting closer.

The door flung open and Alec closed his eyes.

“What are you doing all the way back here?” The person who found him asked.

Alec opened his eyes, surprised to see it wasn't a human but actually one of those creepy animatronics, he was surprised it was out back here. It was.... The bear but not Freddy. It had thick poofy black fur with a red top hat and a red bowtie, a prominent feature was the fact it had only one eye, which was the colour of a warm yellow sunset, the empty eye socket had his red eyelid half closed over it.

Alec looked at him, “Can't you just leave me alone for ten minutes?” He didn't want to show how weak he was but he felt his tears coming back all over again.

The bear looked concerned and reached out his arms, “Are you Alec by any chance?”

Alec wiped his eyes, he didn't see a point in lying, “Yea.... Why?”

“Your parents are looking for you... You've been missing for about an hour.... The staff have been told to keep our eyes out for a 15 year old blonde haired boy.... Why are you hiding from your family Alec?”

Alec hesitated to tell a robot at this pizzeria why he was hiding in a backroom, he shook his head. The bear slightly lowered his head, “Alec.... What exactly happened?”

Alec sniffled, “I've messed up..... I ruined my sister’s birthday.... I've ruined my life... I've ruined my family.... Nobody would forgive a teenaged kid for that.....”

“Are.... Are you sorry for what you did?”

Alec nodded and chocked out, “Yes.”

He was so pathetic.

The bear replied, “I'm sure you can still apologise Alec.”

“Look.... Listen.... Mister...”

“I'm Lefty, Alec,” He told him.

He forgot they had names for a moment, “Lefty then.... I made my sister cry..... And it really hurt me to do that... I was so furious... Now I'm ashamed of it...”

Lefty extended out his hand to him, “An apology... Can go a long way...”

Alec looked at him dead in his eye, “Are you sure?”

“Of course! I've actually done some stuff I am now ashamed of.... You should be glad you woke up now Alec.... Your sister will forgive you if you express your regret of hurting her.”

Alec shook his head, “She would.... She would!” His face lit up and he stood up, stepping out and looking around, “I need to make this right! Thank you Lefty!”

“Alec wait!”

Alec turned to face him, “Would you.... Like that fixed? I know how to make it look brand new again,” He pointed to the Yarg Foxy he was holding.

Alec nodded and handed it to him, “Yes! I'll go back to Hazel with it fixed! Good idea!!”

She couldn't feel the floor anymore, everything was fading away.

Why couldn't she just turn her head and look away? Why didn't her body move at all?

Those eyes didn't look so pretty anymore.

She couldn't move at all.

She couldn't even call out for her parents or even Alec.

Would Alec even want to come and save her? She would do the same for him if he was in trouble.

Those eyes had captured her completely.

Alec was feeling a lot better now, he had watched Lefty perfectly stitch the toy back together and talked more with him. Lefty was able to make the rip appear as if it never happened, Alec was surprised and thankful he did such a stupendous job of the repair. He had the fixed Yarg Foxy in his arms, walking back to the party room, he knew he would give her what she had wanted for years.

Friendship.

He was now ready to be a better person.

To be a good brother.

He had seen his mother looking around kind of anxiously, so he called out, “Mom!”

His mother looked and laid her eyes on him, he stepped over quickly, she looked kind of relieved when she saw him, he was surprised Hazel wasn't around unless she was with her friends somewhere.

“Alec... Are your okay?” He had gone to give her a hug, which obviously surprised her, he didn't remember the last time he really hugged her without being annoyed.

“I'm sorry.”

They had both said it.

“What?” Alec asked her.

“I... I feel this is partially my fault Alec....”

“Mom... I'm sorry for how I acted. I’m sorry for ruining this day. I’m sorry for hurting you and dad... I just.... I don't know... I was tired....”

“Tired?”

“I felt like you ignored me.... Mom... I need to really talk to you, and Dad and Hazel.”

“Yes... We should all talk.. Once Hazel comes back...”

“What did she go to the bathroom again?” He looked around for her in the crowd.

“No... She ran off after you left... I think she was following you....”

“What...?” Alec felt his heart sink, did she actually run after him? He thought at one point he heard somebody calling his name while he was running, but he ignored it because he wasn't sure. Lefty didn't tell him his sister was also missing unless he didn't know about it or maybe he didn't know Hazel was his sister

“Meg, I've searched around the arcade- Alec,” His dad had appeared, “Are you okay? Is your sister with you?”

Alec immediately answered, “No.”

“Hazel ran after you, you have no clue where she is?”

“No, but if she followed me... She would be...” Alec turned around and walked back to whether he had come from.

“Alec! Ian for god sakes follow him before he gets lost,” He heard his mother behind him.

His father stepped up next to him and followed him.

“Alec, you didn't know Hazel followed you?”

“No, I didn't... Dad, I’m sorry... I do love you, mom and Hazel also but-”

“Alec, I appreciate you saying that, I love you also Sport but we need to look for Hazel.”

Alec nodded as they travelled down the hallway.

They switched to green briefly before becoming blue again. She was panicked now, but she couldn't cry for help.

What was happening to her?

“Hazel? Hazel! Hazel!!”

Wait.

Was that Alec calling for her?

She heard a door open.

“She could be anywhere.... I think we need to ask somebody for help to look...”

“I know... It'd be too easy for a ten year old girl to get lost.....”

Those voices.

It was Alec and her father.

They were looking for her.

“Hazel? It's Alec.... I'm sorry...”

Was he really sorry? Hazel could actually hear regret in his voice, something she never heard before.

“I’m sure we'll find her... She's got to be around.... Maybe an employee seen her?” Her father suggested.

“Or an animatronic.... Dad, there's a character called Security Puppet... They are tied into the surveillance system.... Let's ask for their help.”

“How would you know that?”

“Those safety posters...”

“Ohhh right.... So I guess that will be a good option if we don't find her around here...”

“Yep that's what I think....”

Hazel could hear their footsteps getting quieter as they left the area.

Why couldn't she cry for help?? What's happening to her?? She wanted to cry for them to come back, she wanted to get away.

“What's your biggest regret?” The bear had asked her.

What did that question even mean?

“What's your biggest regret?”

Why did it want to know, this didn't make sense....

Unless this was a nightmare.

That meant this never happened, she'd wake up at home to her family.....

And a brother who still hated her.

“What’s your biggest regret, Hazel?”

She was shaking, she felt like somebody was squeezing her throat, tears began again and she weakly chocked out:

“Not being good enough to be my brother’s friend... I had to lie to him.. I tricked him into being good.”

Her throat was loosen but she still couldn’t talk.

This didn't feel like a nightmare.

I think you can guess what this AU is about.... Alec isn't the victim here.

[worldcakecakecake]

Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth,  we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule,  go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to  be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I  Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64  I Chapter 65 I Chapter 66 I Chapter 67 I Chapter 68  I Chapter 69 I Chapter 70 I Chapter 71 I Chapter 72 I Chapter 73 I Chapter 74 I Chapter 75

                                                   Chapter 76

The next two days somehow blurred to Feliciano. He felt like he had been stuck in the same place…when he had only been there for perhaps only an hour, breathing and hoping this ease could bring hm an answer. He laid his feet upon the surface of this canal, sometimes starring off into the blur of this other island. It was the German one they had told him several times, boats occasionally coming here to pick up anyone who wanted a visitor…yet the last few times he had denied the passage still trying to think, trying to piece as time passed.

 Yes, it darkened and lightened here in the usual day and night cycle, the night a splendorous one of black, purple, blue and infinite of stars that sparkled elegantly on the waters. One lived here like any other regular life, with the same pass times and leisure, easy to forget that they were dead and only waiting for a mourning to pass so they could enter the third realm. Everyone reverted to the colors of their life, only glistening, and brightening, for, as someone had told him, you have shed your magic and your spirit can shine straight anew. But indeed, since all your magic was drained in the first realm, you had no power here, but it didn’t disturb from the utter peace and felicity. People went on, Feliciano wondering if they had forgotten they once could possess such force.

 For some reason he had kept his own magic…but he preferred keeping it hidden. He didn’t know what it meant, how the people would react to it and what the angels would say. So, he settled to himself that if he had to use it, then small things that can fit in the palm of his hand.

 The angels only came when new people entered or when they had to pick someone to lead them in their entrance to the third realm. He never saw the full process, he would only see as the angel would come to someone, talk, lead them deep into the most darkened street in the town, disappear between and that person never came back. They always went alone, no matter the family household they made in their time in the island.

 They had established these families to make the settling easier, to have a group to count on and spend your time until you were called. Feliciano had found it with a group that called themselves Galdi, the one to which the little boy he had met belonged to.

 His name was Timoteo…only five years old when he passed. He was from Ragusa, at the south of the peninsula and thus very far from Barga. He had been heavily sick with an immune problem that he suffered from since birth. The youngest of three siblings, his parents working with the governance of the town. The four of them had tried hard to deal with his disease, but the war cut the route of medicines and the healers that helped. His eldest sister left to fight in the war, the sadness taking the largest toll that eventually led him here.  

 When Feliciano had heard the story, he broke and put on himself more blame for the occurrence of the war, so many times apologizing and wishing he could grant the boy his life back. Timoteo forgave him, smiling and mentioning how he suffered no pain, in a wonderful place with just as great people and had even met the Queen of Hearts.

 Yet it didn’t heal the fault, it still added to the weigh of what he was supposed to do. This tension always lay with him, grasping as he did now the edges of his seat as he forced himself more the words he had gotten to.

 The four stances…could be so many things. Care, Devotion, Empathy, Belief, Force, Magic, Openness, Knowledge…and on and on with countless of words that piled and yet none shone out to him as the intended. He needed a way to make them clear, so when he worked on showing it…he wouldn’t be doing the wrong one.

 Okay, um… Intent, Loyalty, Calculation, Anger…he spun on words, twisting them around himself, hoping they could show.

 Wish, Leadership, Serenity, Force…another sigh in his anguish, just as Timoteo took the sitting right next to him, by now knowing Feliciano’s concentrations on this, remaining silent, gazing up to him wondering if perhaps this time he had something. He knew Feliciano had given up when he moved his gaze away from the waters, up to the distance that gave him the next coming island.

 “I asked Giancarlo if he had any ideas this morning, and he suggested you asked Augusta.”

 Oh…if only it was that easy. “Augusta won’t answer me…” he tried to control his exasperation, no worth being shown to a child.

 “She lives within you…shouldn’t she…shouldn’t she help you.”

 Feliciano rolled his eyes and wished he could tell her that as well. “Timoteo…she might want me to learn it myself. After all, I’m Queen, I should know this by nature…yet I don’t…she might also be disappointed because so.”

 “No…maybe she’s just making a game,” he had thought like the child he was and Feliciano chuckled and blessed that he was there with him.

 “Wouldn’t that be fun?” He raised his legs to himself, now taking a break, thoughtful and only one person in his mind, his gaze now more intent than ever on that specific canal that connected. Timoteo knew…and he waited and even expected Feliciano’s decree to row forward…yet silence continued between them.

 “Why haven’t you gone to the German island yet?” He asked, slow as to not cause any more distress…he could tell Feliciano was hesitant. “King Ludwig is supposed to be there…right? Maybe he can help you.”

 “Yes…he is supposed to be there…but…” he sighed and saddened like he could melt to the floor in it. “It was as the angels said…if he were here then they would have known…a message should have arrived there of my presence… if Ludwig would have heard it…he would have come as quick as possible…but it’s been two days and there’s been nothing of him.”

 “…the angels suggested you could still check,” he wanted to believe.

 “I could but…I’m afraid of what I can find out…you know the real story of Augusta and Romulus don’t you?”

 He nodded excitedly, attentive, and glowing ready to hear the tale all over again.

 “When Romulus passed by Khaos’s hand…he didn’t come here…for the longest time Augusta thought he had completely disappeared…lost and truly left without a chance to see him again…” what dreadful things, what misery…he shouldn’t be telling this to a child…yet Timoteo continued to gaze up to him with big innocent eyes, unperturbed by the words.

 “And you’re worried that the same thing has happened.”

 And the very words he had been thinking, not daring to say out loud, were whisked into the air by the young boy. “…he…was killed by Khaos…I doubt he would be so merciful.” And he turned away, not wanting the island to give him false hopes.

 Yet despite how everything seemed so unlikely…Timoteo wanted to keep that hope. “I can go with you if you want, so no matter what you find…I’ll try to help you and…we can figure something out.” He didn’t know what…but he wanted to keep Feliciano faithful to the chance of seeing Ludwig again…even if it meant not in the Interludes…even when there wasn’t a single way.

 Feliciano sighed, straightened up and there was intention in the way he gazed that made Timoteo know they were meant to take the next coming boat.

 The Queen realized that the boy had truth in discovering more of what this could be. No matter what he would find out…he was sure it would not stop him from searching a way.

  The sailor who was in the boat that transported Feliciano and Timoteo couldn’t stop stuttering his words, wouldn’t stop bowing…or staring intensively at the Heartian Queen. Feliciano giggled and tried to give him as much ease as he could on the journey…a half hour one with a lot to witness in these waters as they crossed.

 Despite how these boats could hold the weight of bringing about twelve spirits, only one person rowed, their oars the only thing in this realm that trespassed the water reflection under them to push. From what Feliciano had learned, these rowers were not angels, but spirits who had lived themselves long ago, had passed all four realms, lived with the Aces and were granted this job once there. They either wished it or it was given as a sort of punishment for wrong doings they did in their past life. They were knowledgeable in the map of this world, their rower pointing and naming the other islands they witnessed from afar. But each soul was limited specific routes, and this one in particular could not go further to the islands they couldn’t see or the ones from other kingdoms.

 With each paddle forward, Feliciano became heavier, his expression more fallen, the sailor and even Timoteo distracted in the conversations of other passengers to really notice. The island began to come clearer, with building of stone and wood that showed the clear artistry unique to the German province. It was a mix of old and new, of city and country, and it reminded Feliciano of one of the inner streets of Berlin. The beauty made him blissfully forgetful, ignorant to a crowd of people that were surely awaiting friends or even loved ones. The surprise was soon quickly spread as they witnessed him. The usual whispers Feliciano had now been used to arose, but he didn’t bother to listen or give attention at first. He rose out of the boat, helping Timoteo to stand at his closeness, making sure they were both well suited in their arrival before Feliciano could turn to the crowd…taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the answer he would get.

 “Greetings,” he started and continued in German, “despite how it might seem, I am not really dead.” He went on with the usual information of his journey until all could understand the circumstances to not create a massive panic.

 “We understand well, your majesty. But why come to our island?” A man had wondered for all.

 “I…” and here it would come, his voice coming into a shake, gripping his hands, and biting his lips from not showing more this weakness. “I’m looking for my husband.”

 Startlement, all exchanging confused glances, then searching between one another, wondering if simply they had missed him.

 “King Ludwig?”

 “Yes, is he here? If so, then please, take me to him! I have to see him!” He begged, his eyes watered now, a reaction the men and women moved back from…not understanding what to do, what to say. Timoteo took a stronger hold of his hand, easing him, reminding to be patient and attentive.

 “Your majesty, we know our dear king was taken…but…”

 “We…believe he’s already in the third or fourth realm…maybe with the Aces…” one tried to alight.

 “No…it doesn’t make sense. With the amount of time Ludwig has been dead…he should be here…I know he should be here…” Feliciano insisted, thinking they were only hiding him, ready to dash forward and look for himself.

 “Your majesty!” One woman told the loudest, taking well his attention as she stood high and mighty in the crowd, understanding well…Feliciano could tell that currently she has been the longest there, perhaps only hours to be chosen for her path to the third realm. “Ludwig is not here…and he hasn’t been here…” harsh words, enunciated and sure that Feliciano had no way to denying. The tears fell and his breath began to hitch.

 “Emilie, be reasonable, perhaps-” one tried to alight.

 “I’ve long been here…and no king has come…and none of the people I was with at the beginning mentioned such a presence.”

 Timoteo’s heart hurt for Feliciano, who now began to shake in his hold, and he looked up to him vastly worried. Even with his grasp, Feliciano looked lost, ready to suffocate at the harshness his breathing increased in.

 He should have expected this…he shouldn’t be surprised, it shouldn’t be suffocating him like this.

 “Not here…not here…” Feliciano repeated in anguish.

 But he did have hope…his heart truly believed he would be there so everything could be the same as it was…but now…no…such a chance was never to occur again…Ludwg suffered the same faith as Romulus…he was gone…he was gone…gone…gone…

 “I’m so sorry, your majesty…we would love to know what’s going on also and help…but…there’s nothing we can do…” someone tried to come close to give whatever comforts, but no matter, Feliciano began to loose focus, sweating from the harshness it took to breathe.

 “Feliciano…Feliciano?” Timoteo tried to call, but it was like he was slowly disappearing from his vision.

 So many began to try and call for him, but he gave none an answer as his breath overcame everything else.

  Roderich was surprised he could run this fast, could even let his legs raise him as he went across that ruined expanse. He was heavily bruised, blood coated his armor, yet he still managed some force to keep up with the other two.

 “Ready?” An Oralee called, reminding him of the mission.

 “We’re even!” a Whitean joined.

 Yes, the three of them were perfectly aligned, amazingly so as the ground crumbled underneath them, as ribbons of darkness danced about them, the feet of Khaos menacing ever closer with stomps that could have swallowed them all to be forgotten. But no…they were determined that this wouldn’t be their end. With grimaces, with pain in every single one of their bones, they extended their hands in a perfect balance, a beam like rope being formed. They began to move apart, expanding the distance, sometimes wobbling as one jumped or dived to avoid a ribbon. Soon enough they had what they wanted, a perfect space, the three moving until it was targeted like a large bow.

 “Fire!” Roderich shouted and they released just as they would an arrow, a field running up, the end a large shard that fell and pierced into Khaos. A scream, chilling and painful to hear, especially being this near. The monster began to bend in a nearing to the ground, to fall. The three smiled at achieving this, one of the rare times, but it was quickly vanished when they noticed it was ready to fall on them. From their awe, they had to dash at whatever space they could find.

 The ribbons were coming at them fiercer, messed, and dangerous without control. They didn’t think it would be possible to pass through, closing their eyes and expecting the soon taking. But then came the insisting voice, along with the call that was unique of a specific kind of deer bread for the use of war as this. They were tall, imposing, fast and with antlers capable of taking many to death at a time.

 “Come on! Come on! Come on!” Came the shout of the Jack of Diamonds, ushering them forward to him, all taking a grasp of the animal, safe and secure before it hasted away to the safest ground they could reach, the top of a mountain that they made their center of operations and health when it was not moving and possible. João was there to greet them, pen and scroll in his hand ready to write the next commands and messages.

 “It worked…” the Oralee told, trying to catch her breath, “…but I don’t know how much time it gives us.”

 “We got him to fall…it’s more than what we hoped for,” João told them in gratitude.

 “We can’t waste anymore time. Hurry with the next part! There are still some towns here that need to be evacuated!” Vash reminded them all, with his deer, heading over to continue helping these people. The others went ahead, only João and Roderich remained, both to stare at both sides of the view they had.

 The side were Khaos was wallowing in was filled with darkness, once such greet greens and rivers now in greys, smoke and only but cracked earth. Only some soldiers remained to fend and attack as continuous, preparing, swallowed and surely tearful with fear and mourning for their land. Roderich especially hurt…seeing his kingdom driven to this, a weeping he needed to hide…not now when there was still much to do, with Khaos still undefeated.

 They turned to the other side, these mountains doing well to hide the towns and even city in the distance that needed to be hurried out and emptied this instant. What gave them more panic was the fact that they could see the Spadian border from here, flags raised and armies ready to begin the defense and attack they had planned…what they had called new people for, begged for new plans and weapons.

 “Go and join the rest with the help in evacuating whose left, I’ll stay here and send messages if anything else happens,” João suggested, hiding his own turmoil by focusing on the writing he had to do.

 João would be alone then…something that didn’t sit well with Roderich. Now they needed to be together, to help and aid…

 ”Roderich!” He turned to see Elisa, ruined and panic in her eyes, “some people won’t leave unless it is by your command. You have to hurry! They believe that you’ll manage everything, and their towns won’t be destroyed!”

 Roderich decided on hurrying instead, only being able to send João luck.

  “Khaos is right at Spade’s doorsteps!” Louis announced the contents.

 “I’m writing the commands to begin and act!” Arthur exasperated, not liking to be reminded.

 In this array, in this action and load of continuous working, Elizabeta couldn’t bring herself to go on, heavily bended on her desk, trying to hide her expression of dread. Currently, Kandake was the only one that could grant her comfort, a hand soothing on her back, telling her a mantra to keep breathing.

 “All of Clubs is destroyed…everything is gone…” Elizabeta went on to whimper and mourn over the loss of her kingdom, under her reports on how every single province had suffered a darkened poison, all her population left without a home, runaways in other kingdoms she didn’t know could last and the rest…dead…gone, a pain adding and only sinking her more in this position. Others could only stare, not knowing what reach they could make at such a happening…one that would surely befall on them.

 Aldrich sighed and turned from all to stare back at the pool…hoping for some new hope from Feliciano’s body, still suspended and drifted…no changes. It had only been a couple of days since they began mourning…they shouldn’t be expecting anything for the coming weeks. Pookie was the only one that sat and took watching next to him, patient and still for his master’s return. Aldrich gripped the latest letter that arrived…not finding it in him to read aloud and worsen the air.

 As the Spadian border was spotted and was ready for the onslaught…the Hearts border was preparing itself for the same faith.

  Herakles walked the line all the time, one end to the other, sometimes using ferries, even serpents that lived in these waters and offered their help. He wanted to believe it stood powerful, everybody armored, ordered in precision, men and women from different parts of Hearts…even other Kingdoms, ready to face off this monster.

 A particular shout made many gasp out of order, for Herakles to see the shake clear in many of their eyes, their grips tightening around their weapons, some making clear sound. Over in the distance, a haze yet still on those hills of Clubs, above it all stood the rage of Destro, the armies there dealing what they could in their battle, the shines of their spell alighting the darkness of this monster. They were all small, like nothing…none of this was working.

 Soon…once the monster could take his passage through the mountains, it would cross the sea, blacken it and then it would be a battle of their responsibility. It would touch ground in Hearts for the first time and begin its ever approach on Berlin.

  “Feliciano…Feliciano!” All it took was just the right shout, to make his vision clear again, to halt his breathes enough so they could slowly settle at their usual pace. “Remember… we’ll figure something out…we’ll find a way…” The boy seemed to lead him back into place, back into his position, into realizing where he was, to the plans…to thinking. Feliciano gave a half smile, turning to the others to nod and make his way elsewhere in the town…somewhere where they could be alone to think…and realize what it was they should do next. They chose a forgotten corner where no one came to bother them, the water reaching at the steps there, Feliciano meeting for that same relax, that sign to head into his mind and let words wander again. It was also a moment to truly let his breaths go back to their usual rhythm…and to try and forget about the scene he just created. He looked back, noticing that the crowds went to focusing on other things, on those who came new here…Feliciano intended to apologize once it was time to leave.

 “If he’s not here…then, he’s not really dead,” Timoteo alighted, sure and positive.

 Feliciano couldn’t join in it…for his mind only repeated that he was gone, out of a reach that they couldn’t hold to anymore. “Timoteo, I know you want to help…and I know you want to believe that Ludwig is out there…but it’s just-”

 “What happened to Romulus?”

 It was so sudden that Feliciano took some time to settle on the new question. He thought to all the stories, all the readings, new and old…that letter Ludwig had received from him…that tearful confession on the past field long ago. “Augusta had thought he was gone…”

 “But she kept hope didn’t she! What was it that she thought that she desperately tried to believe in? The reason she hid her own importance, erased from history all together.”

 “Because…she thought Romulus’s soul was still alive somehow…even if not in the Interludes…and if it was given enough attention it could come back…” Slowly the mechanics in his mind started to turn, started to fall in their place to give it more thought. The letter…the letter. “She was…partially right. Romulus’s spirit did survive…it was just…Khaos kept it…he tainted it with darkness and gave it to the Beilschmidt line to pass through…like Augusta was passing through mine…” he stood as it came clearer in his mind like water. “Like Khaos, like me…Ludwig was going to go through his own surge…he was going to…” His mind headed in that darkness, the one he had learned from Ludwig, to understand, to read out the answer, like runes, like monsters, screaming and avenging in nightmares, now in their world come to life. “Khaos…captured him…tainted him…” He paced in anguish as the reality became surer, trying to escape, seeing if perhaps there was something he missed. When there was really nothing else…he suddenly stopped and froze at what it meant. “He was…” he shook, he saw, right before him as if ready to swallow him all. “I know…oh no…I know…”

 Timoteo came up and tried to reach him, “what? What is it?”

 Feliciano turned, horror in his eyes, “I know what happened to Ludwig…I know where he is.”

[cherryrogers]

bittersweet {2}

pairing: boxer!bucky x rogers!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of illness + death.

synopsis: The world of boxing wasn’t something you knew much about, but after a certain boxer with blue eyes and an irresistible charm wove his way into your heart, you soon learned that it went far deeper than red gloves and gold medals — you thought that the boxer happening to be your brother’s best friend was bad enough, but darker affairs had only yet to come to light.

a/n: this one is a long one folks,,, i just couldn’t help myself :)) also the italics at the start are a flashback, just in case anyone was confused - please enjoy !!

Series Masterlist

Three months.

It’d been three months since Sarah Rogers passed.

You hadn’t even noticed the date as you plodded downstairs, making your way into the kitchen and praying that your brother hadn’t eaten the last of the bread, eager to make yourself some toast for breakfast.

Steve had left early in the morning, heading off to his first training session at the local boxing gym. You offered to go with him, just for some moral support, but he insisted that you spent the morning in bed rather than sitting in a cold training room.

So, you spent the morning wrapped in a fluffy blanket, basking in the darkness of your bedroom. Tired eyes begging to flutter shut. A sad mind not allowing them to do so. The moment that you let exhaustion subdue you, all you could dream about was her. Laying weakly in the hospital bed, a thin, faded blue duvet hiding the equally thin legs she’d barely used for months. Her brows furrowed slightly in discomfort, lips chapped, bony fingers weakly clasped in her lap. You wanted to reach out to her, take her cold hand in yours and tell her she’d be okay. But the moment your fingertips were about to graze her skin, she’d disappear. Everything would disappear, and you’d be left completely alone.

It hurt less to just avoid sleep all together.

After finding the bag of bread, which had three slices left inside of it, you absentmindedly checked the expiration date on the small tag around the twisted plastic. Grocery shopping was something you and Steve were slowly getting better at doing without your mom around, but that didn’t mean expired, untouched food wasn’t still hiding in your kitchen.

The neutral expression on your face saddened quickly, eyeing the date of expiration written in bold, black letters.

OCTOBER 15TH.

You’d heard the phrase before, that time was only a construct. An age-old system to keep humanity in order. Sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty four hours in a day... You understood the math, but there was a lot of things about time that you didn’t understand. Like how months could pass in the blink of an eye, yet the hours within them felt like years. How you had spent almost eighteen years being raised by someone you loved so dearly, eighteen years of smiles and laughs and always having a shoulder to cry on, yet the three months you’d been without it all felt like an agonising eternity. How could the science of time explain that?

Suddenly, you’d lost your appetite.

Plopping yourself on a stool, you leaned your elbows against the hard marble countertop, letting your chin rest lazily in your palms. And again, time had lost its structure. For what you thought had been thirty seconds, your eyes stared aimlessly into space, not having anything particular on your mind. You wouldn’t allow yourself to wallow in sorrow. To let a frown sit on your lips for more than a moment. That was what would happen if you thought about her, so you didn’t.

The click of the front door unlocking brought you from your empty trance. Soon enough, your brother was in view, looking at you with curiosity. Dark circles were still evident under his eyes, not as bad as they used to be, however. For the first time in a while, his body didn’t look tensed up. The crease between his normally crinkled brows wasn’t so noticeable, and shade of his irises were... well, they were blue.

Not dark blue, or blueish grey, but a bright, sky-blue. Just like they used to be.

“How long have you been sitting there?” The boy asked, placing his gym bag on the counter.

You glanced up at the clock. Thirty minutes. Not thirty seconds, but thirty minutes you’d been perched on the stool, eyes fixed on nothing.

“Not long.” You responded, forcing the corner of your lips to curl into an unconvincing smile.

Steve only nodded, fiddling with his fingers subconsciously. “You know what day it is, kid?”

Your fake smile faded quickly as you lowered your gaze. “Yeah. It sorta still hasn’t, you know... set in yet. That she’s gone.”

“I know,” The blond rounded the counter, placing himself on the stool next to you. In the corner of your eye, you noticed the slight frown on his face. “You’ve just gotta give it time.”

Time. You weren’t sure what time meant to you anymore.

Sighing, you turned your head to the side, still not looking at him directly, but allowing yourself to see him better. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For ruining your mood. You look sad; you didn’t look sad when you walked in here.”

“You haven’t made me sad, (Y/N). It just... it’s a hard day. But we’ll get through it together, alright?”

“Alright,” You agreed quietly, feeling better when you saw a soft smile reappear on his lips. “How was it, then? Your first training session?”

Steve’s smile widened, appreciating your interest in the morning he’d had. “Good. Really good, actually. Made a friend, in fact.”

You quirked a brow in response. “Really? Didn’t know you were capable of doing that, Steve.”

“You know, for a moment, I thought you were being nice to me.” He playfully glared at you, unable to pretend to stay mad when you giggled quietly.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” You nudged your knee against his. “You know I love you really.”

“Hm, love you too, kid.” Although his tone had a hint of sarcasm in it, you could tell by his eyes that his words were genuine.

“Anyway, carry on. Tell me about your friend.”

“Well, his name is Bucky-”

“Bucky? Never heard of anyone called Bucky before.”

“It’s a nickname - his real name’s James.”

“Oh, right. I guess Bucky’s a cooler name than James.”

“Great; now that’s established, will you let me talk?”

There was a different aura to Steve that day. Sure, like he said, it was a sad day. Except, it wasn’t like the sad days you’d had over the past three months. The boy wasn’t stuck in his pyjamas, living off black coffee and giving you a half-assed conversation like you’d reluctantly gotten used to. He was... your brother. The brother that you hadn’t truly talked to for a while. The brother that you needed then more than ever.

Maybe it was because of that new friend of his.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Go on, Stevie. What’s Bucky like then?”

* * *

“Steve?”

The blond’s head shot up at the sound of his name, raising a brow at you from across the kitchen counter. Elbows pressed against the marble, chin being held up by your palms. You began to feel a little déjà vu in your current position, fragments of a not-so-distant memory piecing together in your mind.

That was two years ago. Two years since your brother finally stopped pushing you away. Two years since you got your Steve back. You wondered if he even knew how important that day was to you.

“I was wondering...” You started, nervously tapping your shoe against the counter. “Could I come with you to the match tomorrow?”

You’d been putting the question off all week, worried that a slight waver in your tone or a glimmer in your eyes would give everything away. There was even a moment where you considered just not going. Maybe you were getting in over your head - going on a date with Bucky. It was only meant to be a one-off. One makeout. One bit of fun with the hot boxer at the gym.

However, he wasn’t just the hot boxer at the gym. He was Bucky Barnes. The person that other than you, Steve trusted with his life. Steve was a good man with good judgement. If Bucky wasn’t a genuine guy at heart, there was no way Steve would think so much of him. Perhaps the boxer wasn’t going to be just a one-off, perhaps he could be more than that. More than just your brother’s best friend.

All you knew was that the way he made you feel, was pretty amazing. If you felt like that all the time, you sure as hell would be the happiest woman alive. You wanted to feel like that again, and you weren’t sure that there were many guys who could do that for you, not the way that he did.

“You wanna go to Bucky’s match?”

“Well, I know how much boxing and Bucky mean to you - I think it’d be cool for me to get an insight into this side of your life.” You weren’t actually lying; Steve had always kept the boxing part of his life separate from you. He knew fighting could get brutal sometimes, and he dreaded every time you’d have to see him with a black eye and bruises scattering his skin.

Steve didn’t fight as often as Bucky did, but he liked the competition every once in a while. He always went to his best friend’s matches, though.

The blond nodded, retrieving a fork from the utensil drawer and placing it into the bowl of noodles he’d made for you. “Okay, sure. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Okay.” You quietly sighed in relief as the bowl was placed in front you, and you quickly lifted some noodles into your mouth to hide the wide smile threatening to overcome your face.

The boy moved over to the sink, delving his hands into the soapy water and beginning to wash some dishes. A breathy laugh left his lips. “I just can’t believe you hadn’t met him until Monday. College must be keepin’ you busy.”

“Believe me, it is,” You slurped a noodle into your mouth, causing your brother to scrunch up his nose at you. After moving out and starting college, it was hard enough for you to hang out with Steve, nevermind meet any of his friends. “He seemed nice.”

Nice. It sure was nice when his hands were sliding under your skirt-

“Nice?” Steve snorted, making your knit your brows together in confusion.

“Yeah? Why’s that funny?”

“I mean, he’s not an asshole. Must’ve cleaned up his act since he knew he was talkin’ to my sister. Last time I tried to interrupt his training, he almost knocked my teeth out,” He chuckled at the memory. “He’s only nice when he wants something - usually if he’s tryin’ to chat up a girl.”

Restraining yourself from choking on your noodles, you tried to muster out a nonchalant reply. “You think he was chatting me up?”

“Kid, if I thought he was gonna try something with you, his match tomorrow would be the least of his worries.” Oh. “But he told me he’s takin’ a girl out after the match, so I don’t think that there’s anything to worry about.”

Shit. He told Steve he was going on a date? Was he trying to expose the both of you? Maybe he wasn’t as paranoid as you were about the whole ordeal, but you were confident that your paranoia was perfectly justified.

All in all, for the moment, everything was fine. You were going to the match, and you were going on a date with Bucky - Steve wasn’t suspicious. Everything was fine, and everything would be fine.

Hopefully, you could say the same after Friday.

* * *

There was a reason you tended not to hang out with Steve and Peggy.

Not that you didn’t like Peggy, as she was one of the kindest women you’d ever met, and she was perfect for your brother. However, trailing behind them like a lost puppy as you were guided through the gym wasn’t exactly ideal.

You’d never been to the main room before where the proper boxing ring was. It was a lot larger than you’d imagined, and the dimmed lights made it hard to actually, well, see anything.

Steve turned around, taking your forearm and pointing you over to a row of seats closest to the ring. “We’re gonna go find Bucky before the match starts, you wanna sit down?”

“You’re leaving me alone? Why can’t I come with you?” You asked, the numerous amount of strangers surrounding the room making you nervous.

“Someone has to make sure no one takes our seats, kid,” He shrugged, patting your shoulder gently. “We won’t be long.”

Before you could even begin to object, the couple walked away from you, weaving between bodies and eventually leaving your sight.

“Asshole.” You muttered to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sighing, you quickly paced over to the seats and plopped yourself down on the one furthest to the left, the cold plastic causing goosebumps on your bare thighs. You’d worn your best skirt that night, one that made you practically exert confidence. You were ready for the match to start, ready for it to finish, and super ready for your date with Bucky.

Well, that was if he won.

The thought alone of seeing him again in his boxing attire caused a blush to coat your cheeks - a white undershirt, grey shorts, sweaty, glowing skin, his biceps flexing as he threw a punch, back muscles tensed... fuck. If the night ended without you being able to kiss him again, you’d be pretty disappointed.

While in your daze, another figure took a seat next to you before giving your shoulder a nudge. The contact made you jump a little, but after turning to face whoever just invaded your personal space, you couldn’t help but let out a confused laugh.

Peter Quill had made himself comfortable next to you, hugging a box of popcorn against his stomach as he sent you cocky smile. Oh, lord.

You’d met the guy at a party in your freshman year of college, and you might’ve made out with him for a little while at said party. Easily the dumbest drunken idea you’d had, since the boy never left you alone after that night. However, you liked Peter. He was good company, sometimes. When he wasn’t making stupid jokes and generally be annoying, you were sort of glad you’d locked lips with him that night.

Not that you’d ever do it again. The thought alone made you grimace.

“Peter?” You raised a brow at him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to watch the match, obviously,” He replied in a ‘duh’ tone, causing you to glare at him. He extended the box of popcorn out to you, waving it in front of your face. “You want some?”

“I’m good, thanks,” You pushed it away, turning your body to face him better. “I didn’t know you were interested in boxing.”

The boy chuckled, flicking his fringe out of his face. “Well, I actually do a bit of boxing myself. I train here on the weekends.”

“Seriously?”

“Uh huh. How d’you think I got as ripped as I am, (Y/N)?”

“Clearly not by your diet,” You nodded your head towards the large box in his hands, causing him to mumble something about Fridays ‘being a cheat day’. “So, do you know my brother?”

“Your brother?” He questioned. “Who’s your broth-”

“Quill,” God, dammit. “You have five seconds to stop talking to my sister before I drag you outta that seat myself.”

A groan fell from your lips, looking up to see Steve with his eyes narrowed at the boy next to you.

“Steve, it’s alright. We go to college together.” You assured him, seeing Peter’s puzzled expression in the corner of your eye.

“Wait... you’re Steve Rogers’ sister?” His eyes darted between you and your brother before shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Well, I’ll be damned. Never knew you were a Rogers, (Y/N).”

“It’s been longer than five seconds...”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave.” Peter huffed, getting up from next to you and beginning to walk away. You mouthed an apology to him, feeling bad that your brother had scared him away, just like you were sixteen and back in high school.

Steve only sighed contently, sitting down where Peter previously was and motioning for Peggy to sit on the other side of him.

“You know, there was no need to do that.” You uttered, jutting out your bottom lip at Steve, who scoffed at your annoyed expression.

“You can do better than Quill, kid. Trust me.”

“Oh my god, I’ve been friends with him for almost a year. He’s harmless,” You elbowed him lightly, lowering your head and smirking as you mumbled your next words. “Joke’s on you, though; I already made out with him last year.”

Steve had a harsher glare on you than he had on Peter. “Are you serious right now?”

“Uh huh, and I’ll do it again if it irritates you that much.”

“(Y/N), I swear-”

“Shut it, the both of you,” Peggy warned, instantly making you and your brother zip your lips. If there was one thing you admired about Peggy, it was that she never took anyone’s shit, including yours and Steve’s childish squabbles. “The match is about to start.”

After sharing a mutual ‘I’m still annoyed with you but I’m sorry’ look with your brother, you both laid your eyes on the ring, which now had a bulky man standing in its centre. His voice in the microphone bounced off the walls of the room, and hearing him introduce Bucky to the ring sent a shiver down your spine.

Cheers and whistles erupted in the crowd, which you didn’t even realise was so large until you took a moment to analyse the filled seats as much as you could in the faded light. Steve shouted out a supportive ‘you’ve got this, Buck’ from next to you, and your heart skipped a little as your eyes landed on the boxer.

Those fire truck red gloves covered his hands again, squishing slightly as he punched them together while he psyched himself up. This time, however, his top half wasn’t hidden behind a piece of clothing, and dear god, that man had definitely been carved by the Lord himself.

The referee was introducing the opposing boxer, but you weren’t remotely focused on what he was saying as your eyes travelled the surface of Bucky’s torso, deciding that you never wanted to see him in a shirt again. Ever.

Eventually, you flicked your gaze up to his face, and heat pooled in your cheeks as you saw him looking right back at you, blue eyes twinkling under to harsh lights above the ring. A smirk played on his lips, probably having noticed you practically drooling over him. Before he was handed his mouth guard, Bucky sent you a wink, and you were incredibly grateful that your brother was too busy whispering in his girlfriend’s ear to notice - disgusted, but grateful.

The other boxer had a scowl on his face, glaring hardly at Bucky as they both got into position, ready to fight. Anticipation arised in your body, hoping that the following forty minutes would consist of Bucky kicking ass so that he could get you out of the club soon after.

And well? Your wish was happily granted.

You had to reapply your lip-gloss quickly towards the end of the match since you were constantly biting on your bottom lip as you watched Bucky in his element. Sure, he took a few hits here and there. But by the end of the match, you couldn’t shake the smile from your face as you watched Bucky raise his hands in victory, the crowd cheering even louder than at the beginning.

The sound of chatter filled the room as everyone started to get up from their seats, and as you pulled the strap of your small clutch over your shoulder, you felt a nudge on your upper arm.

“You want a ride home?” Steve asked, still noticeably annoyed from your last conversation, but there was a softness to his tone.

You shook your head as casually as possible. “Thanks, but I’m going out tonight. Nat’s gonna pick me up.”

Tell Natasha about the hot boxer you’d got yourself a date with, you noted to yourself, realising you hadn’t even mentioned him to your best friend yet because of the sheer paranoia that Steve might somehow hear it from her.

“Oh, alright,” He nodded. “Where you goin’?”

“Just a party.” You shrugged, earning yourself a sigh from your brother.

“Okay, well no alcohol, kid. It destroys your liver.”

Peggy backhanded his arm gently. “Steve, she’s not a child. Let her be.”

“Drinking age is twenty one, Peggy. The girl’s not drinking.”

“The girl has a name, you know,” You groaned, crossing your arms. “I won’t drink, alright? Now get outta here - Natasha will be here soon.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve took a step towards you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you lightly. “Be careful, and text me when you’re home.”

“Will do, Stevie.”

* * *

“(Y/N)?”

A voice calling your name startled you as you turned around, clutching a hand to your chest. Breathing out in relief, you couldn’t help but curl your lips at the sight of Bucky. While he was no longer shirtless, the look he was styling now was one you’d also love to have him never change out of. Ever.

Bucky was freshly showered, making his hair look softer, and the beads of sweat that previously formed on his hairline had been cleansed away. The dark blue shirt he wore fitted perfectly on his figure, tucked neatly into a pair of black jeans, while a black quilted jacket sat on his shoulders, pulling the look together.

“James,” You greeted him, pushing yourself off the wall of the corridor. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thanks, gorgeous,” He grinned, stepping towards you and putting a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the doors of the gym out into the parking lot. “Would’ve been real disappointing if I lost.”

“Yeah, it would’ve,” You nodded, leaning into his arm as the cold air breezed past your skin. “Because I’ve been looking forward to this date, you know — are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Aw, how sweet.” He smirked, earning an eye roll from you. The boxer lead you over to his car, where he opened up the passenger door for you, allowing you to slide into the comfortable leather seat as he whipped around to the driver’s side.

“And to answer your question...” Bucky shuffled in his seat before starting up his car. “Well, have you ever been to the Fall Carnival?”

Memories of a time far, far back resurfaced in your mind. Crinkled leaves. Loud music. The sweet scent of pumpkin spice. “When Steve and I were kids, our mom used to take us every year. Even if it was pouring with rain, that woman would power through and take us there anyway - even when all the rides were closed, she’d take us just so we could each win one of those massive teddy bears on one of the stalls.”

You let out a laugh, fondly reminiscing on the tradition that had slipped your memory until now.

Bucky smiled empathetically, having knowing what happened to your mom after being Steve’s rock since he joined the boxing club. “Sounds like it was real fun.”

“It was,” You nodded, playing with the silver bracelet on your wrist absentmindedly. “As we got older, though, Steve and I would just go by ourselves. We thought she just didn’t want to parade around a carnival with two teenagers anymore, but... well, that’s when she started getting sick.”

God. This was meant to be your first date with Bucky, and you were already spilling your heart out to him. Not that you didn’t like talking about your mom, but you didn’t want to put a damper on the mood of your date.

“Steve talked about her a lot,” Bucky spoke up, causing your gaze to flick up to him. “Your mom... she sounded like a great woman. Wish I could’ve met her.”

“I think she would’ve liked you, Bucky.”

Bucky. You realised that you’d just referred to him by his nickname, but it just felt right in that moment. To Steve, the guy who brought him out of his funk and helped him become the man he is, was Bucky. Not James, but Bucky.

“So,” You chuckled, noticing the soft smile that had formed on Bucky’s lips at your words, but deciding to end the conversation about your mom on a positive note. “You gonna win me some stuffed animals tonight?”

And his signature smirk had crept its way back into his face. “Only if you win me some too. I’ve already had one win tonight, Rogers. S’only fair to balance it out.”

“Okay, fair enough.” You leaned back in the car seat as Bucky pulled the vehicle out of the parking space.

It didn’t take long to drive to the carnival, and the car ride was rather pleasant. There wasn’t a lot of conversation, but as you hummed along to the melodies playing from the radio and Bucky tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, conversation wasn’t really needed.

After arriving at the enterance of the carnival, Bucky enveloped your hand in his as you walked through the different rides and colorful stalls, eyeing the prizes at each one of them so you knew which games were worth playing. Shrill screams and hearty laughter rang all around you, coming from the families and young couples that seemed to be populating the area. The smell of pumpkin spice soon entered your nose, and it immediately brought a strong wave of nostalgia with it.

A light squeeze on your hand brought your attention back to Bucky, who was almost beaming down at you.

“So, I was thinking,” He started, pulling a curious expression onto your face. “Maybe we could engage in a little... friendly competition.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, a little confused, but intrigued. “And what does this competition entail, James?”

“We, are gonna go to every stall here and each play a round at the games. By the end, whoever can collect the most prizes for the other person wins.”

“Wins what, exactly?” You challenged.

“Anything they want,” The boxer smirked. “I’ll let you know when I win.”

With a scoff, you yanked your hand from his grasp and placed both of them on your hips, a confident expression plastered on your face. “Bold of you to assume that you’re gonna win.”

“Bold of you to assume I ever lose, (Y/N).”

“Alright, you’re on.” You smiled, turning your back to him as your eyes darted around the grand selection of games for you to play against Bucky. Skee-ball, the ring toss, whac-a-mole... all games you’d destroyed Steve at as a kid.

This was going to be fun.

And so, the competition began. Grasping onto Bucky’s hand, you proceeded to guide him all through the carnival, determined to make his boxing win the only win he got that night.

You started off on a bit of a winning streak, defeating Bucky at the balloon shooting game and other stalls that required patience and mental strategy. A smug grin sat on your lips as you passed the boxer a large, pink teddy bear with a white bow around its neck, which he took reluctantly. Confidence was surging through you at that point, however, it was soon about to be crushed as you got round to the physical games. Not that you weren’t considerably strong, but Bucky was a boxer. He was definitely at an unfair advantage.

By the time you got to the high-striker, the final game, you were tied. Bucky smiled fondly as you clutched the abnormally large hammer in your hands, eyes narrowed in focus, before you struck it down on the lever as hard as you could. The puck shot up to around the half way point, before falling back down with a clink. During Bucky’s turn, however, the guy hit the lever with a lot more force, causing the puck to spring up and trigger the bell at the top to ring, indicating his success.

Now it was his turn to smile cockily at you, handing you an enormous, soft stuffed penguin as you attempted to bite back a grin.

“What did I tell you, babydoll? I never lose.”

“Alright, James. You win,” You sighed, unable to stop your smile widening. The both of you must’ve looked ridiculous - at least ten stuffed animals, large and small, were tucked under each of your arms. The abundance of fluff and warmth was helpful in keeping the cold away from your body, but you needed to put the damn things down. “How about we put the stuffed animals in your car, and then you can tell me what you want your final prize of the night to be?”

The boxer nodded slowly, and the two of you took a stroll back to the car until you reached your destination, him being immodestly proud of his win against you. Bucky helped to take all of the stuffed animals out of your arms and did his best to fit them all in the trunk, along with the many you won for him.

After shutting the trunk, Bucky turned to you, lips curling up as his eyes swept over your face.

“Can I tell you somethin’, Rogers?”

You nodded, feeling your heart rate speed up a little from the question.

“Steve... he’s my best friend. You told me the other day that you didn’t like hidin’ stuff from him, and trust me, I don’t either. I was thinkin’ that this wasn’t such a good idea, takin’ you out.”

The boxer saw a glint of worry appear in your eyes at his words, and quickly reached forward to grab your hands in his.

“But, I’ve been trying to find a flaw in you, (Y/N). Anything that might be a sign we shouldn’t be doing this. And... and I can’t. Every time you told me somethin’ about yourself tonight, I only wanted to find out more about you. Not Steve’s younger sister, but you, (Y/N) - I wanna know you more.”

God, he looked so perfect under the moonlight. Baby blue’s trained only on you, soft lips parted slightly, a light stubble on his jaw that you wanted to trace your thumb across. A few small cuts and bruises on his face from the fight, barely beginning to heal, but not taking away any of his beauty in the slightest.

You wanted to know him too. Not just Steve’s best friend, but him, James Buchanan Barnes.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better, James,” You took a step forward, pressing your hands against his chest. “Is this your way of asking for a second date?”

“Maybe,” Bucky teased, snaking his arms around your waist. His eyes lowered to your glossy lips, subconsciously leaning towards you as he inhaled a nervous breath. “Is is alright if I...”

His voice trailed off when his lips began to brush against yours, and within a second, he was kissing you.

The kiss was different to your first. It wasn’t hungry, or fuelled by lust. But gentle, meaningful. Signifying the start of something you weren’t at all expecting, but eager and excited to pursue.

The moment was one of those moments, where time didn’t follow its usual rules. Because you swore that when your lips met his, time completely stopped. The world around had paused, and all that was left to play out was the intimate moment that you and Bucky were sharing.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, your nose just grazing his. Time proceeded to continue, the blaring music from the carnival able to be heard again, the coolness of the air hitting you once more.

“Your prize, Bucky,” You said quietly, drawing circles on his chest over the soft material of his shirt. “You still haven’t told me what you want for your win.”

Chuckling, the boxer simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s okay, gorgeous. I think I just got my prize.”

Well, fuck. That one made your heart swell.

Your mind wandered back to Steve. Could there be any way he’d be fine with you and Bucky? Would there be any sort of outcome where he didn’t end up hating you?

The answers to those questions weren’t clear, but one thing was - you wanted to take your chances with Bucky Barnes, because when he kissed you, it suddenly wasn’t about your brother anymore. It didn’t matter if it was wrong, on your part or Bucky’s. All that mattered was that this was what you wanted.

And if Steve didn’t like that? Well, that was a bridge to cross when you got to it.

It was bittersweet, really. On one hand, your heart ached from lying to the blond you’d been through hell and back with. But on the other, your heart was positively melting at his best friend’s charm.

Bittersweet. Yes, that was the perfect word to describe it.

[honeyedquiet]

clueless

a small psa: im really bad at titles. 

anyways, this is an imagine i wrote for my friend when she was sad so i figured i’d post it here as well. that being said, it has a name and not y/n because it was for her but feel free to read it however you’d like!

word count: 3.5k

warnings: not much, maybe a curse word here or there? possibly bad plot line, and a few typos

clueless- james potter

When James usually expressed how clueless he was, it was not entirely true. In transfiguration, when Professor McGonnagall went over a bout of hard-to-follow information and he said he had no idea what was happening, he usually had a slight idea, but just didn’t know if the idea was necessarily correct. When Filch, the greasy Hogwarts caretaker who always seemed to be on his and his friends’ asses, asked him who set off dungbombs near the Slytherin common room entrance and James told him of his innocence and cluelessness, he was far from being truthful. When Snivellous angrily asked James earlier that week where he had hidden all of his underwear, James confessed profusely that he did not know where his underwear went-- for the record, he didn’t; he merely stole the underwear while Sirius hid them. But, when he said he didn’t know how to handle the certain predicament that he was in currently, he truly meant it. 

When James first realized he was in love with his best friend, Sirius’, sister, Diana, he tried to simply ignore the feelings. It was easy to do at first; she was a year below them and Sirius wasn’t necessarily keen on spending all of his free time with his younger sister when all of his friends were performing pranks, sneaking out of school, and torturing that poor, greasy Snivellous. James, at first, feared that this method of bottling and stuffing his emotions deep, deep down into the pit of his stomach would not work, but it seemed luck was on James’ side for once in his life. Diana obtained the opportunity to travel abroad, to Beaubaxtions, which was in France-- which was far, far away from James-- and prayed to the Gods that all hope of keeping his friendship intact with Sirius was not lost. Of course he was saddened and upset by the news-- he even cried about it when he heard, although he would never admit it to anyone no matter how many times Remus brought up him crying alone in the boys bathroom one night in attempts to talk about it-- but he knew it would most likely be for the best. Sirius never took kindly to those who fancied Diana; he was rather protective and would threaten the people that Diana showed romantic interest in-- without her knowledge, that is. So, he knew that Sirius would most definitely not take kindly to his best mate taking up a fancy for his younger sister. 

The time that Diana spent away allowed a period of time for James to attempt to “heal”. He tried to forget just how much Diana’s smile light up even the darkest of rooms, how her laugh was so contagious he didn’t believe it was possible for anyone to remain frowning if she was laughing, how her voice was commanding and soft at the same time, how her eyes lit up when she was talking about something she was passionate in, how gorgeous she looked that one day where he, Remus, Sirius, and Peter went down to a lake near Sirius’ house and Diana tagged along-- she was wearing a gorgeous blue bathing suit that complemented her glowing skin perfectly-- In other words, he just tried to forget her. He knew it would be best for him, being as Sirius wouldn’t have a reason to kill him, and for their friendship, since friends technically don’t attempt to kill other friends. 

He tried, he so desperately tried to look for someone else to pour his fancies into and occupy his late night thoughts, but he couldn’t find anyone that matched Diana. 

Although he was having trouble finding a “replacement” for Diana, his technique of bottling and storing his emotions had worked fairly well; they only came out in longing thoughts as he lay awake in the Gryffindor common room, staring at the dormitory ceiling. 

All of his progress, if you could call it that, vanished the moment she came back. It was the summer leading into his and Sirius’ seventh year, Diana’s six and she was coming back, finally, from France to return to Hogwarts. 

Sirius, Remus, James, and Peter all were on the blank spot of grass in the Potter residence’s gardens, their brooms scattered about the neatly trimmed, flowering bushes. James was laying on his back beneath an old oak tree, his black hair plastered slightly to his forehead with sweat, a slightly frustrated look on his face, his chest moving up and down with remnants of heavy breathing beneath a black tee shirt, and, in his hand, resided a golden snitch that wriggled to get free of it’s captor’s palm. Sirius was hovering a few feet above the ground, his broom beneath him, with a quaffle in his arms and a stupid smirk on his lips. Like James, he was also breathing heavily. Remus was above James in the oak tree, serenely lounging along a sturdy enough branch. A book was in his hands and his eyes moved rather quickly across the pages and his eyebrows were furrowed in slight curiosity and confusion. Peter leaned his back against the tree, his plump red face adorned with sweat and an eager smile. He looked between Sirius, Remus, and James excitedly, awaiting Remus’ verdict on what caused Sirius’ confident smirk and James’ frustrated composure. 

Remus sighed and closed the quidditch rule book, shaking his head before speaking. “Sorry mate,” Remus started, a light hint of his own smirk as he regarded the confident Sirius. “James was completely in bounds. There’s nothing in the rule book that says he can’t distract you.” He finished. 

Sirius huffed in his usual “this is stupid, everyone here knows i’m right.” way as he descended to the ground beside James. “Don’t think that because you beat me you’re a better player than me,” Sirius pouted, of course just playing-- everyone knew James was the best player out of all of them and had beaten them all multiple times in two versus two to prove it. “I think you just pulled a blinder,” He huffed. 

James rolled his eyes, a smirk just breaking through his feigned frustrated composure before he shook his head. “Not a blinder, just skill-- Which none of you, but my good ol’ chum Remus here, seem to have.” He gloated, letting the snitch free and fly a few feet in front of him before he sat up, caught it, and laid back down against the grass. 

“Oi! I’ll have you bloody know that your mum was saying different last night when-” Sirius was cut off by the door opening to the garden and his life flashed before his eyes; he didn’t dare to turn around, fearing Mrs. Potter had heard him. 

However, it was not Mrs. Potter. The appearance of Mrs. Potter in the doorway wouldn’t have made James’ heart stop mid-beat with his mouth slightly agape. The appearance of Mrs. Potter in the doorway would not have made his hands clammy and resting knees weak as his mind began to race. And Mrs. Potter most certainly wouldn’t have caused such destruction on the glass jar that resided deep within him that housed the longing, perhaps dangerous, thoughts of Sirius’ sister. The appearance of Diana, however, most certainly would. 

And it did. 

It was like everything and nothing changed about her at the same time. She was still the same girl he knew since the end of first year and the same girl that he had seen off with Sirius on a train to France exactly a year ago-- but she was still different. The way she carried herself was more confident and airy, however even in the split second he saw her, he could recognize her ability to knock into anything within a mile radius. She seemed more refined and collected. Elegant and angelic. Ethereal. Thoughts raced his mind, going a mile a second as he tried to contain the cracking jar within his mind. 

He felt like he was on auto-pilot mode as he greeted her, an appropriately wide smile on his lips, however he knew he jumped up too quickly and hugged her just a little too tightly. He asked her questions a little too excitedly, looked at her a little too long. 

That night, he debated on writing his will. 

He had it bad; he knew he did. Remus now knew he did as well, being as he forced it out of him just a day after Diana arrived and with every day longer that she was with them, the more the jar broke. He tried his best to play it cool around her, to simply act how a brother’s best friend should act. He tried, he truly did. He also truly felt guilty when he failed. 

The more days that passed, the harder it got for James to act in a way that wouldn’t tip Sirius off to even a hint of James fancying Diana. Part of him hoped to be as far away from Daina as possible, so he would not make a stupid mistake of getting caught admiring her, while another part of him wished to be alone with Diana: to kiss her plump lips, to hold her cheeks in his hand, to moved his skilled fingers across the buttons of her shirt while he held her against-- 

“James! Did you not hear anything that I just said?” Sirius grumbled as he stood from the couch they were currently sitting on. 

“Sorry, not really. I think I’m getting a bit of a headache.” 

Remus made a face and James sent him a harsh glare. He didn’t need Remus fucking this up. 

“I said that I’m going to go to Diagon Ally with Remus and leave you with the she-devil until we come back with her new stupid jersey,” Sirius huffed and Diana laughed from her spot on the couch. 

Just hours prior, Sirius and Remus lost a game of Wizards Chess to Diana and were then obligated to get her new quidditch jerseys as a winning prize. 

“Make sure she doesn’t tear up the place so mum isn’t mad at me. We all know how dogs can get,” Sirius’ laughter was broken by Diana getting up with an exclamation of distaste at Sirius calling her a dog. 

James wished he would have taken a portrait of how scared Sirius looked at his sister before pulling Remus into the fire pit and using the floo powder to escape her wrath. 

Now, the thoughtless side of James had gotten it’s wish. He and Diana were alone, only separated by a coffee table between them. 

Over the next few hours, things were going fine. He had busted out some of his Firewhiskey to “add a little fun into the mix,” but it was mostly to calm his nerves. He didn’t know what he was to do. Should he ignore her or go to his room? Or should he do exactly what the thoughtless, careless side of him wanted him to do and indulge in his fantasies that he stayed up many nights forming. 

The firewhiskey seemed to make that decision on its own once they both had a few drinks. They weren’t drunk or impaired, so to say, merely tipsy and very, very close now. James just realized how close they were exactly. 

Diana was rambling about something to do with Beauxbatons, he didn’t exactly know what being as all of his focus was split into two things: her lips, and resisting the urge to place his lips on hers. Something else caught his focus and the three way split was too much for his jaded brain to handle so he lost grip on his control. As a consequence, his hands came up and cupped her cheeks, placing his lips on hers. 

He had felt extremely guilty about kissing Diana that night, although not because she didn’t like it, he knew she liked it very much, but because he betrayed Sirius. Though the guilt subsided more and more with each time that found a spot to indulge in each other. They took a chance of any privacy they could get: midnight rendezvous, sweet early morning kisses, “quidditch lessons”, anything being as Sirius staying with James now left little moments of privacy to them where they had not feared of the tall, black-haired boy that they both adored to dearly walking in on them. 

Now, being at Hogwarts, things regarding moments alone with Diana were easier and more difficult at the same time. It was easier to sneak away from Sirius under the guise of extra lessons, hanging out with another friend, extra studying, but yet it was harder because he also had to make sure he had the Marauder's map with him. They were officially dating now, and had been for a few months, but had chosen to keep it secret until they could find the right time to notify Sirius that his best friend was now dating his sister. 

The predicament in question was brought along by a rush of passion, and carelessness. Diana had been teasing James all day relentlessly, sending him notes of what exactly she would like for him to do to her in the midst of class, mumbling in his ear in Potions as he tried to follow the directions that were scrawled on the board, putting her hand on his thigh during lunch, sitting on his lap in the deserted library during their shared break. All of this led to James ending the day with a large and very uncomfortable hard-on, which seemed to impair his judgement. He had rushed off after quidditch practice to go find the very girl that caused his problem, but had failed to check if he had the map. 

James was able to sneak Diana into the common room and to the boys dormitory, being as girls can enter the boys yet not vice versa, and was pushing her against the wall in an instant. Lips, teeth, and tongues were all gnashing together passionately and needingly as he fumbled his way to the bed, Diana locked in his arms. He was on top of her the moment she hit the soft padding of the mattress, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on her shirt while hers were doing the same to his shirt. It was not long until they both were naked except for Diana’s panties and James’ boxers. James kissed down Daina’s body, admiring it and savoring it with each kiss before he reached the hem of her underwear. Without a second thought, his hand moved beneath it and tugged it down her legs, throwing it to the side of the bed before kissing up the insides of her thighs, nearing the crux where he knew she wanted him to be so desperately. His fingers worked small circles against her clit as he nipped teasingly against the soft skin of her thighs. His mouth slowly drew nearer to her slit and he slowly- 

The door opened quickly and James almost threw himself back, nearly tumbling off the bed, and scrambled to grab hold of the blanket to cover Diana up. He straightened his glasses that had fallen in the scramble to see who was in front of him and his heart dropped. 

Sirius. An angry, heaving Sirius, mind you. 

This is exactly the predicament in question that he had no idea how to handle. ‘How do you explain to your best mate that you’re in love with his sister after he found you buried between her legs? Well, i’ll definitely find out tonight,’ he thought. 

Sirius was angry, his eyes not looking at Diana as she didn’t dare to move from James’ bed, but they were rather fixed on James. Sirius drew nearer to James and he expected the punch before Sirius even drew back his fist. Just because he expected it, however, does not mean that it didn’t necessarily hurt which damn, it did. James stumbled back, holding his jaw, although he didn’t fight back. He knew he deserved it. He only fought back when Sirius took his wand out and James disarmed him, knowing that the last thing either of them wanted was McGonagall coming up, seeing them hurling spells at each other, James half naked, while Diana Black, a Hufflepuff, lay in James’ bed, completely naked. It would be too many detentions than what it was worth. 

It took awhile for Sirius to calm down enough to stop squirming against the body-binding spell that Remus had to put on him. By this time, Diana was dressed and sitting on the edge of James’ bed, her fingers fumbling together anxiously as James rambled off apologies. Remus released Sirius from the spell but kept his wand away from him and a hand on his shoulder. 

“What the bloody hell, James! You’re my best mate! You shouldn’t be shagging my sister,” Sirius yelled and James felt the same pit of guilt in his stomach as he had that first night him and Diana kissed. 

“Look mate, i’m sorry, I am but-” 

“There’s a but to this? You think I'm going to let you keep shagging my sister?” Sirius yelled in disgust. 

“No! Well-” 

“You have a lot of fucking nerve, Potter. Seriously, my sister!” Sirius outraged. 

“It’s not nerve, I’m trying to explain-” 

“I’m not asking you to explain, i’m asking you to stop shagging my sister and-” 

“I’m not Shagging your sister, it’s-” 

“What do you call being-” Sirius almost couldn’t get the words out over a gag, “literally buried between my sister’s legs?” 

“I’m not saying that I wasn’t shagging her but-” 

“So you were shagging her, this is ridiculous, i-” 

This time, it wasn’t James retorting to continue the bickering, it was Diana finally speaking. 

“For the love of Merlin, just stop! Sirius, I love you, but you can’t act like I'm yours to keep safe and take charge of. James and I weren’t just shagging,” She started and James felt nauseous. Diana took a gulp, looking at her brother’s angry face. “We aren’t just fucking. We’re dating.” She finished and the room fell silent. Even Remus was shocked. 

“You two are dating?” Sirius asked, now completely breathless by the news. 

James so greatly wanted to turn away and say no, to turn back the last hour or so and just take care of his boner himself instead of greedily and carelessly meeting with Diana unplanned. “Yes,” James finally spoke and he thought Sirius was going to pass out at once. We have been for a few months. We just didn’t want to tell you because,” He motioned to his now bruising cheek, “ We knew that you wouldn’t necessarily take it the best.” He reasoned, trying to rid his voice of anything that would cause Sirius to throw a fit again. “I’m sorry you walked in on us, it was careless on my part. But I promise I’m not just fucking her. I wouldn’t disrespect you nor her like that,” He said truthfully and Sirius, although still red in the face, was now listening. “It’s not just a short fling either,” James looked from Sirius to Diana and back to Sirius. He gulped slightly, knowing that the only way that he could make Sirius truly believe that he wasn’t just using his sister was to tell him something that he hadn’t even told Diana yet, although he knew it before the relationship. 

“I love her.” He finally said and he saw Sirius deflate for a moment before sitting back up. He stayed quiet for a while and so did everyone else in the room. “You love my sister.” Sirius finally said, as if confirming it and James nodded, his eyes trained on Sirius. He didn’t want to see whether Diana was disgusted or accepting of his feelings. “I do, I really do. You know I won’t hurt her,” Those seemed to be the right words to say, being as Sirius gave a soft nod. 

“Alright,” Sirius mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I guess I can’t do anything about it, either then right?” He asked, as if he was hoping for one of them to say that there was a phrase he could say to undo the feelings that they both clearly had for each other. 

“No, nothing,” Diana spoke up and James finally looked at her. Relief welled in his chest when he saw the bright grin on Diana’s face, telling him that she returned his feelings. 

It was a long while and after an equally long talk that Sirius finally stood, not fully accepting of the relationship but he wasn’t mad at either of them. They had talked things through, mended the slight crack in the resilient friendship between James and Sirius, and repaired the slight crack in the wall left from Sirius pushing James into it before James finally walked Diana out of the common room and back in front of the Hufflepuff entrance. 

He was about to bid her an exhausted goodnight before he was caught off guard by Diana’s kiss to his lips.  

“I love you too,” 

[triforceangel13]

The Promise Ch.8 (A SidLink Story)

Chapter 8: Missing You

The Domain seemed like it was void of color and happiness. The king no longer made his rounds, keeping to either his study, bedroom, or the throne room where he discussed the treaty with the princess.

Those that did see him found his face in a permanent frown, his body posture telling his mood that he did not want nonsense.

Link had tried talking to him on several occasions as the days ticked by but he never granted him an audience, telling him he was too busy.

Link really had hurt him and he hadn't meant to do so. He didn't know what to do. He had tried asking Mipha but even she was at a loss.

No amount of sending him flowers, sending him his favorite foods either would have Sidon speak with him.

Taking this that he was not so welcome any longer in the Domain Link had taken to spending more time with Zelda and the guards that had made camp no too far away.

They were a bit of an odd bunch, some of them had even brought some of their kids with them to spend more time with their parent and see more of the world.

The morning was as it had been the time that Sidon hadn't come to speak with him due to his busy schedule. Alone. Link had once again ate breakfast alone and accompanied himself to walking through the the large hall where the past king's statue stood.

“I'm sorry for hurting your son,” Link sighed as he looked at the vacant expression of the statue. “I don't want to leave things like this between us. I don't want to add to the flame of this feud between the races...”

He let out a sigh as he rest a hand against the marble, ears slightly drooping as he tried to think of...something.

“Ouch! Leave me alone!” came a soft cry from the other side. The sound of wicked laughter came soon after that of another child followed by the small cry of pain.

Link quickly rushed to the other side of the statue, catching in time to see three small hylian boys pushing and kicking a small Zora girl.

“Hey!” Link yelled, approaching them quickly. Instead of running as Link originally thought, these boys stayed defiant.

“What do you think you're doing/” Link snapped at them, scooping her up and holding her against his chest. She cried softly, wrapping her small arms around Link's neck. Link's heart broke at the sight. He had seen this far too many times back at the orphanage.

The cries brought out other Zoras into the area, confused of what was going on and why there was a crying child in Link's arms.

“She came too close to our camp. We needed to teach this Zora a lesson to stay in her own place where she belongs,” one boy snapped.

Link scowled down at him, bending down to get into his face, his eyes a dark cold blue. The color drained from the boy's face instantly.

“And what does her having to be a Zora have to do with this? You're just nothing but a bully. Get out of here,” he said sharply.

The boys quickly scrambled over themselves, running from the area back towards the camps. Link looked around at the other Zoras, flushing a bit as a bunch of smiles spread across their faces. Link, a hylian, had stood up for one of them.

Leaning his head back he looked to the little one in his arms.

“What hurts?” he asked softly, wiping a few tears from her face. She was fairly small with bright blue eyes and golden scales.

“My arm,” she sniffled, showing the cut that was on her small fin. Link wished he could run back to those boys and teach them a firm lesson with the same treatment they had given her...Of course he actually couldn't do that, that was an old instinct kicking in

“Let's...get you to Princess Mipha,” Link said to her, heading out of the area towards Mipha's room. He had remembered hearing something that she had some sort of healing abilities. He could get this little one fixed right up.

The little girl's sniffles died down, resting her small body into Link's chest. And still all around him the Zoras watched in appreciation as he closed in on Mipha's door. Perhaps now...they would respect him being there with them.

He raised his hand to knock on the door, pausing in his action when he heard voices on the other side of the door.

“Sidon, You need to stop avoiding him,” Mipha scolded her younger brother. “If you don't he is going to leave and then where will we be?”

“Mipha, how can I face him? He will want nothing more than to reject me again like he had before,” Sidon responded. “He probably would be more than happy to go off with the Princess of Hyrule since she seems more his type.”

Link winced at that, holding a bit tighter to the little one in his arms. So Sidon had taken what he had said the wrong way and taken it as a no.

Truth was Link still wasn't sure what to do. But these times when he was away Link felt sad, and lonely. He missed having the king near him.

He wasn't sure if he could call this a budding love but right now the thought of going him...saddened him greatly.

“Sidon, can you blame him? He thinks you only want him so you can solve your problems,” Mipha retorted but was quickly interrupted.

“I love him Mipha,” Sidon declared loudly, the sound of a clattering chair hitting the floor on the other side of the door. The silence that stretched had Link's tension rise all the more. He felt wrong for eavesdropping but then he wouldn't have ever heard this...

“Sidon...if this is that promise again...”

“It's not,” Sidon responded. “But now I'm not sure how I can even fathom the thought of him staying now. How can I ever make him believe me that my intentions are pure.”

“You need to go to him and talk to him.”

“I don't feel like I'm ready.”

“Then when will you be?”

Silence came once more but Link knew he was done listening. He felt bad for even having listened in on this private conversation. With a breath he knocked on the door, further stopping any other conversation from continuing.

Mipha was the one who answered the door, eyes widening at the sight of Link and the little Zora. She quickly ushered them inside.

“What happened?” she asked, reaching for the child but she latched tighter onto him. Link rubbed her back gently.

“Shh it's okay,” he said, gently guiding her to sit on the table. “Some hylian boys attacked her. I scared them off. No one deserves to be picked on...”

A small smile came to Mipha's lips and she rest a hand on Link's shoulder. “Thank you for taking her in.”

Link gave a small nod, finally taking a chance to look up at the Zora King. He avoided looking his way from his seat, eyes looking to the child.

Link let out a small sigh, looking to Mipha as she rest her hands near the little fin and a glowing green aura came from her hands.

“When we're all done I can take you back to your mommy,” Link offered but the little girl shook her haed.

“Your..daddy?” he tried again but received the same answer. Mipha ran a kind hand over her gold scales sadly.

“She is one of our orphaned Zoran children....” she responded. Link's heart broke at this news, going to the table and taking her little hand.

She blinked tear filled eyes up to him, sniffling softly.

“I'll protect you. I promise,” Link said to her, wiping away a tear from her eye. “Do you want to tell me your name?”

“Ephira,” she said quietly, wiping the other tears away.

“That's a very pretty name. I'm-”

“You're Link,” she answered. “You're the new queen to make the mean stop.”

There was a bit of silence but Sidon broke it.

“No, little one, he's not-”

“Yes, Ephira. That's right,” he interrupted much to his own shock, picking her up off the table and set her on her feet when Mipha pulled her hands away from the now healed wound. She truly had a magical touch.

“Why don't I take you back to the orphanage?” Mipha asked as she held out her hand to her. Ephira took hold of it, wavinh goodbye, the tears that marked her face now gone in place of a bright smile that had her glowing.

The door closed with a deafening thunk, leaving Link alone with Sidon. Neither of them said anything for several moments, the tension making Link suffocate. He wanted it to end. He wanted all of the pain to end.

“Link,” Siodn finally said after what seemed like hours of silence, yet it had only been a few short minutes. “Why did you say that. Why did you lie to her?”

Link remained silent, an odd expression coming across his face as he looked to Sidon. Words would not tell him what he was feeling. It would just come out wrong.

Actions were necessary.

He quickly approached the king, looking up into his face of him. His hands trembled before him, his body growing tense. Now that he was in front of him he wasn't sure what actions he could take to prove to Sidon that....that...

He wanted to stay.

“Link?” he asked.

Link again didn't respond, but this time he did move. His hands came to rest on his face, confusing the king even further. The Zora prepared to ask what he was doing when Link pushed himself up and pulled Sidon down to him, his small lips laying a kiss against his.

Sidon remained frozen as Link kissed him, his eyes wide. Not getting a response Link deflated a bit, slowly pulling away with a harsh blush on his face.

“Sorry...I-”

Sidon quickly wrapped his arms around him, pulling Link up into his lap and kissed him this time, one clawed hand in his hair as the other held his waist close to his torso.

Link wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him back feverishly. Kissing Sidon....was so wonderful.

Breathtaking, sensual. All the qualities he wished to find in someone else. Promise or not, treaty or not, Link wanted to stay with him.

Right now that was what he wanted. He would figure out the other problems later. He wanted to take this one step at a time.

Link broke the kiss, panting heavily, his hair a mess and his lips swollen.

“What was that for?” Sidon asked with a flush and a look of confusion on himself. Link leaned forward again, lightly brushing his lips against Sidon's. The king visibly trembled against him, his lips following his.

“I'm sorry,” Link said as he sat back. “What you heard when I spoke to Zelda wasn't true. I...I want to stay.”

Sidon's eyes widened a bit. “Does this mean....?”

Link took hold of one of his hands, holding tightly to it. “I am still not one hundred percent sure but...I at least want to stay here.”

Sidon smiled at his answer. “I will take what I can get. Now there is something I would like to request of you.”

“What's that?”

“Kiss me again?”

Link grinned at that and leaned forward, kissing him again just like he had done before.

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[caffeineivore]

Back to the Spirits

M/K.

**

All mortal passings are different and sad, Desirée thinks, but this particular one is sad on a whole different level.

That Douglas Townsend was dying of heart failure at the age of eighty-four, this in and of itself was not exceptionally unexpected. The man, who had been a real estate magnate in his heyday, was worth millions, and that point was made exceptionally clear by the lavishly-dressed collection of family members currently crowded into his hospital room. 

“I just don’t understand why this place doesn’t serve bottled mineral water that doesn’t come out of a nasty, filthy vending machine.” Veronica, the dying millionaire’s current wife, gripes as she taps long, manicured nails against the armrest of her chair. She doesn’t look a day over thirty-five, and her cardinal-red wool Gucci coat echoes the red bottoms of her Louboutin pumps perfectly. “I am on a strict hydration schedule that I absolutely cannot deviate from. Why, my beautician would eat me alive!”

“Even your beautician won’t be able to give you class, no matter how much you pay her,” Violet, the first wife, mutters from her spot by the window. Older, with deep lines of discontent bracketing her eyes and mouth, she shoots the dying man a venomous look. “I expected a midlife crisis out of you, Dougie. Made damn sure I was ready for it, but two of them in ten years? And with her? She’s a year younger than our daughter! How do you think that makes Clarissa feel?”

“I don’t give a shit, mom,” Clarissa pipes up from a few feet away in a bored tone. “That’s what the very expensive therapist I spend two hours with every week exists for. I just want to get this done and over with. Hunter and I are flying out to Bali in two days. Second honeymoon. I can’t wait.”

The second wife, Valerie, largely ignores the sniping and maintains an icy silence from her own chair, wrapped up in a full-length mink coat with the languid air of a fashionable invalid who could hardly bear to breathe in hospital air. Every so often, she’d emit a tiny, dry, singular little cough. Also scattered around the room in various states of boredom are members of the third generation, ranging from toddler to teenager, almost every last one of whom is fiddling with the latest model iPhone. One girl in her teens keeps roaming the room, searching for the best spot and optimal lighting to take a selfie. Another is engaged in a viciously hissed argument with perhaps a boyfriend. There are more than a dozen people crowded into a small hospital room, and not one of them seems to truly care about the dying man outside of what they would be inheriting.

The very air of the room feels toxic, a miasmic cesspool of greed and entitlement and snobbery, and Desirée shivers and wraps both arms around herself as she edges over to Douglas Townsend’s bed, carefully stepping around a knot of bickering family members speculating over the dying man’s will. He has been on life support for the last few days, but just as she sidles up to the bed, his eyes blink open for a moment. His had been a life full of luxury and privilege, but not, in the end, a life well-lived or at all well-loved. Perhaps he realizes it, too, because as his gaze meets hers, a single tear tracks down one sunken cheek. He doesn’t say anything, though, and for once, Desirée has no words of comfort for him. In the common idiom, he’d made his bed and now lay in it, alone to his final rest. His eyes close a moment later without a single word, and it takes several minutes before the acrimonious family members to register the source of the newest sound in the room-- the drone of a life support machine flat-lining. 

Suddenly, there’s a woosh of air, like a cold winter wind, lifting strands of Desirée’s golden hair and none-too-gently yanking off the baseball cap on one of the boys’ heads. Time seems to stand still in that moment, teenagers’ fingers frozen mid-movement over their phones, mouths still open mid-sentence with no words coming out, stricken silent. The machine drones on, but over it, as though through some invisible intercom, comes a voice-- deep and measured and familiar, yet somehow wrathful in its very calmness. 

“For evildoers shall be cut off: but those that wait upon the Lord, they shall inherit the earth. For yet a little while, and the wicked shall not be: yea, thou shalt diligently consider his place, and it shall not be.” 

No one speaks; perhaps they’d been rendered mute, or perhaps they are, justly, terrified. All three of the dead man’s former wives share panic-stricken glances at each other, but no one moves. 

“Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that shall come upon you. Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are motheaten. Your gold and silver is cankered; and the rust of them shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire. Ye have heaped treasure together for the last days.”

There are far too many people in the room; more than once, in the last few hours, harried-looking doctors and nurses had tried, in vain, to tell the family members that it was against hospital policy to crowd thusly in there, only to be told in very disagreeable tones that “our family owns half this building”. There should be no way for Kafziel to walk in, blindingly white wings unfurled, brandishing a sword aglow with fiery light, without crashing into people everywhere. And yet somehow he does, his face terrible and beautiful as he makes a beeline for her, mouth enunciating the words that echo about the cramped hospital room as though it had cathedral ceilings. His eyes gentle, though, once he reaches her, and the wings and sword blink out of view as he holds out his hand. Desirée lays her palm over his, and lets him lead her out, and it is only after she crosses the threshold that slowly, gingerly, the family members of Douglas Townsend seem to come back to life, pale and subdued now in a shadow of their former pretentious selves. With shaking hands, one of the former wives reaches for the call button to summon the medical team.

Kafziel walks quickly, up and down the brightly-lit corridors, though not so quickly that Desirée can’t keep up. “Where are we going?” 

“Away from here for a bit.” He doesn’t quite touch the main doors, but it springs open, and then they’re out in the starlit night. It’s wintertime and the wind lifts her hair, and by all rights, she should feel cold, but standing at Kafziel’s side, the chill is nothing but a breeze. “Death can be a mercy for some, a terror for others. And sometimes, it’s nothing but a meaningless end to a meaningless life.” His somber gray eyes meet Desirée’s blue ones. “Do not let them sadden you, little one.”

“It’s just that... he could have had such a wonderful life. He wanted for nothing. All of them wanted for nothing,” Desirée sighs as they made their way down the sidewalk. At this late hour, though there are still people, it is not at all crowded. No one makes any eye contact as he leads her down the street. “Ultimately, all he might have accomplished in life is in there being divided up like a side of pork at the hands of an army of merciless butchers all out to get the fattiest piece. Do you think he saw this as his end?”

“I don’t think that he wanted for nothing,” Kafziel says reflectively. “He certainly had money, and power, and perhaps even respect at times. But love passed him by-- both the giving and the receiving. Ultimately, he died a poor man in what ways truly matter.”

His hand is warm and sure against her lower back, and he gently ushers her down the stairs of the nearest subway station. At this hour, it isn’t too packed, and the car they get in has enough room in it that there are actually open seats. Neither of them take one, though, and a heavyset woman trundles into the one closest to where Kafziel is standing. 

“She works at a very popular pizza parlour.” Kafziel follows Desirée’s gaze towards the woman, whom, upon closer inspection, seems to have a smudge of flour on one cheek. and wears sensible non-slip shoes. “She’s been there for the last twenty years. Her husband works the first shift at a factory. She takes the kids-- they have three-- to school in the morning before heading to work, and he picks them up when he gets back. It’s not an easy life, but they’re happy with it.”

The train rolls from one station to the next, and in the quiet, soothing tones of someone telling a cherished loved one a bedtime story, Kafziel gives her bits and pieces about the people that come on and disembark. The teenaged boy, all bravado under his Yankees beanie and headphones, was taking classes at the local college, studying to be an engineer. He was meeting up with a few friends that night, and there was a girl that he liked who might be there. The grizzled old man reading the newspaper owned a corner store, and the highlight of his week was seeing his grandchildren at church every Sunday, after which they’d go have lunch at a diner and play checkers. 

It’s fascinating and strangely comforting, all these miniscule slices of eclectic mortal life, and as the train car goes on, Desirée gets caught up in the fun of it, and makes her own speculations about the people. She’s usually wrong, but Kafziel simply gives her a faint smile and tells her the truth about them. 

“She’s a teacher, or a social worker-- some profession focused on helping people find their best selves. Happy in love. Not a New Yorker born and raised, but she’s come to love this place as her home. No children yet, but she’d love to have them someday, have a cozy home with a daughter and perhaps a cat.” With almost a giggle, Desirée rattles off her imagined version of the life story of the latest passenger-- a trim blonde in a pink peacoat with a pretty, friendly face. But as soon as she’s done, she catches Kafziel’s eye, and he’s looking at her rather speculatively.

“You’re right about everything with her,” he says, after a moment of almost-awkward silence. “Her name is Angela Schein-- though, Angela King, now. She’s actually the wife of one of the doctors at the hospital. One of the intake physicians at the ER, whom you like fairly well.”

Desirée’s startled gaze meets his. She knows instinctually which doctor Kafziel is referring to-- the young, dark-haired one with the kind blue eyes-- and for that, she gives the blonde woman another look. If kindness and goodness were visible, she’d all but radiate it like a glowing beacon. It’s almost a breath of fresh air in spirit, clearing away the stench of materialism and selfishness from Douglas Townsend’s deathbed, and she wonders for a moment if Kafziel knew that Angela would be on this train at this hour. She wouldn’t put it past him. 

“So you see, do not despair.” Kafziel’s voice is softer than ever, a far cry from the ringing, unearthly wrath he’d unleashed upon the ears of the Townsend clan. “There is good left in the world, greater and stronger ever than the evil. Do not let the unworthy ones dishearten you.” His hand draws her just a little closer, and between that and the steady rhythm of the train, she finds her comfort. 

An indiscernible amount of stops later, they disembark with the last passengers at the final stop, walk at a leisurely pace through the subway station. They pause in front of a ragged dirty-blond urchin of a young man, strumming a guitar and singing in a surprisingly sweet and tuneful tenor. 

“Sail on silver girl Sail on by Your time has come to shine All your dreams are on their way See how they shine Oh, if you need a friend I'm sailing right behind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind...” 

The last time she’d heard someone playing music in front of her had been in a ballroom, at a society event where she’d danced with several eligible young men. It had been before her marriage to Antoine, and waltzing about in a pretty gown had been exciting for a young girl full on the lease of life. The present is nowhere near as elegant, and yet, with Kafziel’s hand clasping hers, it feels warmer and more intimate, the words sung seeming just for her. It’s neither the time nor place to stand up on tiptoe and twirl, and Desirée does neither. But she knows, without him saying so, that he’d understand if she did. He says nothing, but drops a crisp hundred-dollar bill in the young man’s battered guitar case, not to be noticed until later, and they walk away as silently as they had approached.

When they make it above-ground, it is to the majestic sight of the Brooklyn Bridge, a brilliantly-lit focal point at the forefront of the Manhattan skyline against a backdrop of ink-black night. There’s a brisk breeze coming up from the water and Kafziel draws her close, wrapping both arms around her shoulders. “Hold on to me,” he whispers into the crown of her hair, and she clenches her fingers around the soft material of his shirt as his feet leave the pavement with a rush of wind. Desirée untucks her face from his shoulder a few moments to see that they’re at the very top of the bridge tower. Underneath them, both pedestrian and motor traffic cross the bridge in both directions, a terrifying height below. The water below is dark and undoubtedly cold, and the spot they’re standing must be precarious at best.

And yet, she has never felt safer. Perhaps that, too, had been a plan on Kafziel’s part. The song of the busker, the unspoken message in the strength of the arms holding her. Desirée isn’t facing him, but she hopes that he can see her smile, nonetheless. 

In the morning, perhaps, there will be another death at Bellevue, bringing with it more sorrow and pain, or perhaps relief and rest. It would be another day. 

She would think, though, of the beauty of another sunrise. 

[shootingstarbeagen]

Loki imagine

Imagine that you live in a small planet where your family works as farmers. As you turn thirteen, you are given the task of traveling to the larger city to set up a stand and sell the farm’s products every month.

This is not only exciting because you’ve never been outside your small farm, but also because the city where you travel, is near a lake that you have always wanted to visit. The first visit to the city, is during the winter, which has come colder than usual this year. Braving the cold you set up your small stand during market day, and sell out of all your preserves and canned goods. Happy about this, you close-shop and travel to the lake even though it has been a long day and it is close to nightfall.

When you arrive you are mesmerized by the beauty of the frozen water. You had never seen anything so beautiful. The surface glimmers under the moonlight and to your delight, a gentle snow begins to fall. Not knowing that you should be cautious, you begin walking onto the frozen surface, and all too suddenly, the ice breaks and you fall into the icy depths of the dark water underneath.

The bitter-cold water is painful and it overwhelms your mind and body, but as you’re floating down without a struggle, you see someone dive in and grab your hand to pull you up. Your mind in a haze, you wonder if you are imagining the handsome young man with the dark blue skin who is carrying you away to a small cabin, before passing out.

When you wake up, you are still freezing cold, but you are buried under at least fifteen large warm blankets and in front of the hearth of a roaring fireplace where the kettle is whistling as it’s boiling.

You stare at the handsome young man that enters the room and takes the kettle from the fire. He doesn’t have blue skin, you must have imagined that, or it must have been the lack of light outside. When he notices you’re awake, he asks you how you’re doing and hands you a warm drink that seems to work like magic and makes you feel warm once again.

He introduces himself as Loki, and you thank him for saving you before feeling drowsy and falling asleep again.

When you wake up again, the fire has died, it is day time, and you’re alone. You hang around the cabin for an hour, wanting to speak to Loki again, but he doesn’t come back. What’s more, the cabin seem to be unoccupied and in great disrepair, as though no one had been living there in years. With a sad heart, you pick up your stuff and travel back to your farm.

A few months pass by, but you’re unable to return to this large city, as the winter is very harsh and has closed all of the traveling roads with mountains of snow and ice. One night, you awake to the sound of screams as someone, or something is attacking the small city where you live. You run outside to find your parents and all your younger siblings frozen into ice statues as giant blue monsters are attacking people and killing them by freezing them. Panicking you scream and run, but you bump into one of these monsters, who laughs as you fall. He extends his hand towards you, and you cover your face before the cold hits you, but it never does. A lightning bolt strikes the monster, and in front of you a man on a large white horse appears.

Everything happens so quickly, that you can barely remember it the next morning. After the attack and rescue, the small remaining population of the entire planet is gathered and brought to Asgard. You learn there that the ice giants from Jotunheim, whom are apparently these blue monsters, were planning to take over your small planet for some rare mineral they needed for their own planet. Your planet is beyond repair and you can never go back.

The man who saved you, an older, bearded man with an eye-patch, introduces himself as Odin, The Allfather, ruler of Asgard, The Realm Eternal. He welcomes the three-thousand or so survivors that are left from your planet, and reassures all of you, that homes and jobs will be found for everyone. Scared and grieving your dead family, you tell the inquiring man asking about your job experience that all you know how to do is farm. He asks so many questions, your age, your general health, whether you have any family or relatives alive. When you tell him that you are alone, he signals for someone to come get you and you are taken away in a ship to a different planet.

You find yourself at beautiful house with marble floors and glittering golden walls and fixtures. You are taken to a room where other women and girls are cleaning themselves and getting dressed in beautiful, but rather revealing gowns, as they prepare themselves for the guests that will arrive that night. Confused, you ask the girls what it is you are to do at this house. They laugh at you, but one of the women gives you a sad smile and explains that this is a high end whorehouse, and that you, along with these women, will be entertaining the soldiers and other patrons that come along to this planet for entertainment.

Coming from such a small planet, you don’t even know what sort of entertainment you’re supposed to perform. You tell the woman right out that you’re not very good at singing and that no one ever taught you how to dance, so she takes you to the house matriarch. She doesn’t think you’re genuine, and asks you if you have ever laid with a boy or a man. Innocently, you tell her you used to share a bed with your younger brothers, but when your younger sisters were born, your parents had built a loft in the barn that had individual beds. Both women give each other a knowing look, and they tell you that you don’t have to entertain tonight, but that they will train you in dance, singing, and serving, so one day you can entertain as well. You find it odd that you have been brought here, as all you know how to do is farm, but you’re thankful for the opportunity to learn something new.

However, as the months and years wear on, you finally learn, what sort of entertainment you will be required to do. Worried, you ask the matriarch if you will also have to perform these type of entertainments, and she laughs at you and tells you, “Of course! You’ll fetch a nice price once you’re ready.” Saddened by your fate, you keep learning how to be a be a good hostess, and become an accomplished dancer and singer.

Years have passed, you are almost nineteen, when on a random early morning, you are awake before the rest of the girls in the house, and one of the older servants in the house sends you to fetch the doctor for the matriarch; as she had taken ill that night. You know where the old doctor lives, but you had never been allowed out on your own. Dutifully, you run to fetch the doctor, who hurries on, but has to stop at a small shop where she needs to purchase some healing herbs before you can go back to the Bordello.

You are frozen in place as you enter the small shop, and you notice the tall man with black hair finishing his purchase as the small shop owner bows and thanks him for his patronage.

It’s Loki.

The boy who saved you all those years ago from the lake. Except he’s not a boy anymore. He has filled out and gotten at least a head taller than you, and his voice is deep and soothing as he tells the old shop owner that he prefers her shop because it sells the best, high quality herbs in the nine realms. He turns to leave and looks at you, but there’s not even a trace of recognition as he looks right through you and inclines his head at the doctor, who elbows you in the ribs as the man passes by, and you finally notice that she’s bowing as she bids him, “Good day, Your Grace.” Flustered, you manage a clumsy curtsy, but he is gone out the door before you’re even able to pronounce a word.

The old doctor complains about your lack of manners, saying that the matriarch at the bordello must be losing her touch, if you don’t even know how to behave in front of royalty. You apologize, and tell her you weren’t aware that he was a prince, as you had never ventured out of the bordello...and had never seen him before… She’s surprised to hear this, asking you, “have you really never entertained him after your performances? I truly thought he was there to see you.” You are shocked to learn this, as your performances have been small and limited to only a few patrons for the last month, but with your debut coming up, you wonder if you’ll see him then.

After your debut, you know you will be sold to the highest bidder for your first night of entertaining, and even though you don’t dare hope, you fantasize about Loki being the first man to claim you. It seems kinda romantic in a sad and twisted way, but you know that you cannot expect anything better from fate.

The night of your debut, you are eagerly looking for him in the crowds but never spot him. Your debut performance goes smoothly and the bidding war for your company ends when the King of Asgard himself purchases you from the Bordello. Scared, disappointed, and very put off by having to entertain an old king, you are taken away from the planet to Asgard the next morning. You thank the king as soon as you arrive, very weirded out by the fact that a woman who must be the queen is sitting next to him as you are brought into a throne room for an audience. Even more surprising, is when the queen then takes you away to her gardens. Here she explains that the king had been made aware by Loki, that a young refugee woman had been kidnapped and taken from Asgard into that shameful establishment, and that the king had bought your freedom. She tells you that you are not to live your life as an entertainer, but as a ward to the court from now on. You ask her if you can personally thank Loki, which she agrees to, but when you finally meet the prince he is cold and very short with you. Loki expresses no interest in getting to know you even if you’ll be living under the same glittering roof.

Some weeks pass, and you’re disappointed that Loki has shown no desire to even speak to you, but the queen has kept you busy with studies and you haven’t seen much of him anyway. You’re informed that Loki’s birthday celebration is coming up, and the queen asks you to perform during the festivities. She knows you are an accomplished dancer and singer, and unbeknownst to you, she is also aware that Loki is interested in you, but he has been purposely staying away as a way to hide it. The night of the celebration you perform a few traditional dances and songs, but whenever you look at him as you are dancing, he either looks displeased or is busy chatting up some attractive woman or other.

You leave the ceremony before your last performance, and you hide out in the queen’s gardens. You’re sad and disappointed, and decide then and there that you will get over your crush on the prince. It’s late, and you can still hear the music and festivities. The last song you were supposed to dance to is playing, and you begin dancing along in the garden. The dance you perform by yourself is much sexier than others you’ve performed in public. As the song ends, you almost jump right out of your skin as Loki, who has been watching you, speaks up. He’s a tad drunk, but he’s admiring you appreciatively.

“I’m glad I did not miss this last performance.” He says. You’re blushing and your heart is racing as he extends his arm to you and pulls you close. “Come. Show me what other talents you have.”

[parkerparlour]

damaged - part 4: alone - p.p.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

Summary: Peter is alone. You are really gone.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: this entire series is angst - funeral and grief

A/N: I’m crying too, y’all, don’t worry. Here’s the final part. 

Gif cred: @marvelheroes

Peter always hates this part.

The fancy clothes, the congregating to remember those that pass, and, most importantly, crying in front of others. Peter doesn't usually like being that vulnerable, he tries to avoid it, but at your funeral, he can't help it. Sometimes all one wants to do after the death of a loved one is curl up in several blankets and cry, cry, cry until nothing comes out anymore. But he's here, wearing a suit, watching your lovely, still face as you lay in the casket. Beautiful, even in death, but he knows you'd be even more beautiful alive.

The funeral was sudden (to all but him) and everyone is crying. May holds Peter close, knowing exactly how it feels to lose someone this way, mourning and sympathizing with him. Your parents can't stop tearing up as they hold each other, their baby gone. The ceremony is short, but sweet, and Peter makes a lovely speech that he spent four hours straight the day before writing.

"Y/N will be missed by all of us. She was-is a shining marker of time in our lives. But she wouldn't want us to mourn her forever. She would want us to be happy again, to laugh again. She will always have a piece of my heart, a little chunk that she took hold of and has taken alongside her into the afterlife. I can only hope that one day I see her again, even more radiant and beautiful than when she was alive."

At the reception, Peter isolates himself. He sits in one of the comfy chairs and stares at nothing in particular. Sometimes it's the lights on the floor, or a speck on the wall, but his thoughts only swirl around you. Eventually he realizes he kind of looks like a weirdo, so he digs his phone out of his pocket, a new crack down the screen from when it fell out of his pocket in his rush to help you.

He runs a thumb over the crack before turning the phone on, opening his photos and selecting the album labelled "My Love" which is filled with every picture he has of you. There's a lot of them, most of them either candids or silly selfies together. He stares at each image for far too long, but he's gazing at your face, remembering all the moments when these photos were taken.

Eventually it is time to leave and May drives them home. Peter peels off his nice suit and throws on whatever pajamas are in reach, collapsing on his bed and tucking himself in. It's far too early to sleep but he doesn't care. He can't help but feel empty and alone, isolated from everyone else who will never truly understand what it feels like to watch the one you love die in your arms.

Peter takes the next two days of school off.

He can’t follow his own advice he gave in his speech. He can't socialize right now, and pretending to smile hurts deep inside himself, because it's a lie. He wishes everyone would stop lying, that he'll find someone else, that he'll be fine, because honestly? He won't be. He's never going to find you again, because you were unique and special. Plus, Peter absolutely has PTSD. Watching you die has destroyed him a little. He's still Peter, just a little more broken, and he was already cracked before.

Tony is the only one who understands, who doesn't push him to take the suit up again. He gets it, he really does, instead telling Peter to take however long he needs. Tony had hoped this would never happen to Peter, but the world works in twisted, twisted ways as he watches this boy suffer through a lot that he did, but at a much younger age.

It takes time. Your memory becomes less painful and more joyous. He can look at the pictures and the memorabilia and not get thrust back into watching the light fade from your eyes. Instead he sees how your eyes used to twinkle, and your smile, or a remembrance of how your hands fit together with his so perfectly. The only thing that still sends him back to that dark memory is the alley, but he's changed his patrol plan to avoid it.

Eventually, as he returns to school, he relishes in the little things that remind him of you. That one weird locker that didn't fit right that you always pointed out sends your laughter ringing through his mind. The little corner of the library you used to share sends the whispered "I love you"s to him. He even wears one of your bracelets, the one you used to wear all the time, given to him by your parents, and it's the perfect little reminder of you.

But he's still not back to normal - he's smiling again, yes, but his heart is still hurting when he stays up too late and can't help but think of how if you were alive he could turn to you and have deep conversations that would last hours but he can't because you're gone. Those nights always end in tears, silent and warm, running down his face.

It took Peter two weeks to look at his suit again. The legs barely looked blue anymore, everything stained a deep red from your blood, and he can't look at it. Eventually, the city needs their hero again, so he shoves it deep in with another pile of laundry. He tries to keep his mind off the fact that that's your blood washing down the drain.

Before he can even get three blocks down his patrol, Karen is telling him where to go.

"Mr. Stark is requesting a meeting with you at the nearby pond," she informs him, showing a map to the location.

Peter furrows his brows, wondering why Tony wants to meet him. But he listens and follows the map, ending up at that same playground that Tony saved him from once before. He decides to sit on a swing this time, looking down at his feet as he rocks himself forwards and backwards slightly to fill time.

The wooshing of Tony's suit alerts Peter before he sees him, and the older man descends in front of him. Tony raises his mask, showing Peter that he's actually there. Peter pulls his mask off as well, so they can actually see eye-to-eye for whatever is about to happen. Tony takes a deep breath before beginning to speak, like he's preparing himself.

"Hey, Pete. I just wanted to make sure you're truly ready to get back into this, y'know? You've been through a lot."

Peter stiffens, stopping his motion on the swing, and his voice comes out unnaturally monotone, "I'm fine, thanks."

Tony sighs, stepping out of the suit and sitting on the swing next to him. "You don't have to lie to me, Underoos. You don't have to be so strong all the time - heroes can need help, too."

Peter stares harshly at him, waiting, hesitant of where this is going. His grip is tight on the handles of the swing, the cold metal pressing against his warm skin through his suit.

"I'm not saying you should still be on break from being a hero - what I'm saying is you might want professional help when you're not being a hero. With what you saw, what you experienced, it can mess you up. I know that first-hand, Pete. I have a lovely psychologist, who knows all about what we do, who can help you. Alright?"

Peter looks away, unsure about this. He's so used to holding himself up, keeping himself fine. He doesn't want to burden others with his emotions and feelings, let alone burden May or Ned. He doesn't want pity, he just wants to talk about what he's been through, and have someone listen. Maybe this could work?

As Peter is still thinking, Tony keeps talking. "I've already scheduled an initial appointment. You don't even need to start right away, just meet her, talk with her a little, see if you think it'd help. I'll pay for everything, all you need to do is show up."

Peter looks back at him, no longer holding himself as stiff as before. What has he got to lose?

"Sure, Mr. Stark, I'll go. I'll try it out."

Tony visibly relaxes. He was so worried that Peter would outright just say no, not listen to him, and the boy would suffer like he did. Tony refused professional help far longer than he should have, and he's paid the price for it. The longer you wait, the harder it is to reverse the damage you do to yourself.

"Great, thanks, Peter. I'll have Happy text you the details, but it's for next Tuesday at 4PM, just so you can make sure your schedule is clear."

Peter nods and Tony stands up, but he hesitates before stepping into the suit. He turns back, ruffling Peter's hair. "Y/N would be proud of you for being so strong, but she'd also want you to not destroy yourself in the process. This'll be good for you, alright?"

At the mention of your name, Peter has quickly blink away tears. "Y-yeah. Thank you for the help, Mr. Stark."

Tony gives him a sad smile before stepping into the suit and boosting up a bit. "I expect to hear that Happy escorted you next Tuesday! Don't flake on me, Underoos!"

Peter nods again, watching as Tony flies away into the night sky.

He does go to the appointment. It goes fantastically, and the lady, Mrs. J, quickly realizes that Peter just needs someone who will listen, and she's happy to provide. Peter is her youngest ever patient and she is saddened by what he went through, but is hopeful that he will come out of all this an even better person than he was before. And he was pretty damn amazing before based on how much he cared about you and his family and everyone. But mostly you since that's who he's there to talk about.

Peter starts going twice a week, with Happy escorting him right after school on all those days. Mrs. J starts giving him some coping methods to try if he gets overwhelmed outside of their meetings; journaling ends up working best. Peter often will either take a picture of where he is or what he's doing at the moment or he'll use the image that spurred up the emotions. It's a digital journal, because he finds it much faster to type, and he just vents and throws all his emotions up on the page. He shares some of those with Mrs. J, who will read them the hour before their meeting. He's clearly making progress. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Peter still feels alone in his heart, but he's slowly feeling less alone in the physical world. He's spending more time with Ned and MJ, and making more of an effort to spend evenings with May. He's cut back on patrols - he's getting slowly over the guilt he feels if he's not at every crime in the city. After all, he truly can't be everywhere at once, and he's starting to realize that. He can't save the entire city by himself. Something will always slip under the radar.

So Peter's just living for today. He's cherishing every little moment that brings him joy, because he didn't cherish them enough before. That's his big takeaway from all this. Life is so brief and temporary and one can never know when they'll be left alone.

((fin))

“damaged” tags: @onceuponateenpanwolfian @hista-girl @idksolonya @wannabenice @thehanneloner

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked this series! <3

[stellarbodies-blog]

the beast; darry curtis

“Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose which would bloom until his 21st year. If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope for who could ever learn to love a beast? ”

—

for on the 243 day of his 19th year, he was stricken of the news that his parents had passed. the force of the train that had impacted their car and their bodies had taken the life straight out of them. cast to raise his brothers alone, he felt washed up only at 19. if it were not for the help of her, he would have been lost by now, maybe even dead.

when she had heard the news, she rushed over as fast as she could. on her way she stopped to pick up some roses. belle had known darry for as long as she could remember and with her raw beauty and kindness, she had him wrapped around her finger. for he had loved her since they were only children. he watched her blossom like a flower among their years of friendship. he watched belle blossom more and more in her gorgeous looks, after all her name meant beauty.

the whole world seemed to be upset the day his parents had passed, for the clouds were ever gray and the sky let out tears of sadness. belle had rushed home from college to come and comfort darry in his time of need. she approached the door with sad eyes, roses in hand. she knocked three times only to find a drunk and depressed darry to come to the door, beer in hand.

“darry, i’m so sorry they left this way. i brought you roses, maybe they can help?”

he glanced at her small frame, looking her up and down with his icy, blue eyes. when he turned to leave her without saying a word she grasped out her hand only to caress his arm. he turned around and looked at her and yanked his arm away.

“darry, please. just wait. maybe i can come inside and we can talk? i know what you’re going through but getting drunk isn’t going to help you. you have responsibilities now. you got two boys in there who need you more than ever and i’ll even stay to help because i love you.”

when she had finished talking, tears were streaming down her face and her right hand clutched the roses. darry had stopped in place, almost as if he was frozen. she hoped and prayed that her words impacted his impaired brain.

“you can’t help me. no one can. i’m a beast. i’m a loose cannon, one blow away from going off. i can’t take care of these kids and your god damn roses aren’t going to help the fact that i’m only a kid. damnit belle, don’t you get it? i’m to young for this. your roses won’t help me raise those kids. your roses won’t help me be a parent. and most of all your roses won’t help my fucking dead parents come back. i-i think that you should go now.”

she put his slurred words together but she wasn’t going to give up on him just yet. he was her soulmate, her best friend, her lover. she called after him as he turned to walk away.

“darry wait!”

and with that he turned around and took one more sip out of his practically empty beer bottle and chucked it at her small frame. missing her by just an inch, she got the hint. she carefully placed the roses and their doorstep and turned to leave the small porch in the pouring rain. she gave his beastly figure one last glance, before running off in the rain.

“goodbye darrel.”

—

two years. two long years she had been gone. darry hadn’t heard from her since the night her almost damaged her divine frame. in two years darry’s emotions had gone more unstable than ever, for he concealed them, only to let loose of his true feelings on occasion. taking care of two growing boys is not what it seems.

the middle of the siblings had to learn to grow up faster than expected. shortly after the death he had dropped out of school and picked up a career at the local gas station. he was in a stable committed relationship until soon his girl moved on and left him heart broken. still he remained his usual happy-go-lucky self and never left his true feelings run wild.

the youngest of the three brothers had grown into a very charming young man. growing up he had loved belle. they shared the same interests in reading and writing and literature of all sorts. on occasion he would ask sodapop what ever had happened to her, questioning himself as if she was just all a figment of his overactive imagination.

all things ran smoothly in the curtis house except for when ponyboy had gotten a bad grade or darry couldn’t take the stress of his new found life. one day darry was more stressed than ever and he let his emotions get the best of him.

ponyboy had gone to the movies that night leaving darry some alone time, for the middle brother was on a date. by the time sodapop had returned, it was overly passed the youngest sibling’s curfew and he was beyond late.

when ponyboy had staggered in the door at two in the morning, darry was wide awake in fear that his brother had passed just like his parents. sodapop found himself sprawled out on the couch waiting for his younger brother to return home. he was suddenly woken to the sound of darry yelling at pony for what seemed like the nineteenth time this week.

darry wouldn’t stop yelling and it didn’t help pony’s case with the attitude he was giving darry. it seemed as if pony and darry would battle it out for hours before someone let up, but the brawl was shortly brought to an end.

“don’t you yell at him!”

those were the last words that came out of the smaller boy’s mouth before he was flung across the room. darry had let his emotions let loose and he hit him, something he had promised never to do. the youngest sibling had gotten up and bolted out the door not to be seen by his brothers for a week.

—

two years. two long years he had been gone. belle hadn’t heard from him since the night he almost damaged her divine frame. in two years belle had longed for darry and only wished to see him once more. she was in her final year of college, well had just begun her final year.

  it was a normal sunday in windrixville. belle had just gotten to work on a paper that was due the next day, when she heard a knock on the door. he had opened the door only to find a newspaper at her doorstep. she read the headline and gasped when she was the title.

“boy found dead in tulsa park”

  for the death had saddened her, but the picture attached to the article had shocked her to her core. it was ponyboy. belle dropped the paper and ran up her apartment stairs to get dressed.

  she was reminded with the fact that she hadn’t seen darry in two years but she cared about the youth that he called his brother and it gave her an excuse to see him once more. so she returned from her frozen state and ran to get changed. she rushed back down the stairs and hopped into her car to get to tulsa in time. on her way she got roses, hoping they may help this time.

  —

  darry had disappointed himself and he felt that if he had also disappointed his parents. he knew that if belle were here, she would comfort him and not make him feel like the beast he was. but then again, he drove her away for who could ever learn to love a beast?

  his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. he and sodapop sprung up in hopes that their baby brother was home. but they knew he wasn’t. they had seen the paper this morning and darry felt that he drove him to doing that.

  slowly but surely, darry made his was to the door. he opened it only to find the girl he once prized as his own. she stood, opened mouthed, in shock. he blinked multiple times to see if she was real or just a figment of his sleep deprived mind.

“belle? is that you?”

  “yes, oh god darry i’m so sorry i shouldn’t have gotten involved in your business, i just wanted to hel-”

  her rambling was interrupted by darry smashing his lips into hers, into a kiss that seemed as if it could last forever and in his case, he wished it could. slowly he pulled away, his big hand caressing his face.

    “darry i’m sorry.”

    “you got nothing to be sorry for darling, i’m the one who’s sorry.”

  it was then, during his 21st year that he learned to love another and he earned her love by the time the last petal hit the ground, for she had dropped her roses. for she was the only one who could tame the beast. but you see, she never stopped loving him, she was beautiful on more than just the outside and she used her beauty to help he cope with everything in this harsh, harsh world. for she had learned to love, the beast.