#just how lost she is. her life all tangled with regrets and missed opportunities

[daisychainsandbowties]

Yes hello just wanted to step by and say that I love your Wolfwren fic so far thanks have a great day

🥺🥺🥺 oh wow thank you!! that fic is so much fun to write & getting to delve into sabine’s gay little head and explore the absolute tragedy of her life (being used as a child soldier by the empire, falling in love with her best friend who then left her for dead, finding a family and then losing it in pieces, one by one to this war she can never stop fighting) has been such a painful and rewarding experience but so good…

i’m 🫡😭 about giving sabine this slow-dance of blood and tension and longing into something raw and healing and beautiful with shin. it’s what she deserves!!

[wicked-storybrooke]

Alice Jones/Curious Archer/Knightrook Musical Theatre Playlist

So, @fairytalepsuedonym​​​​ has been making some really wonderful song analyses in regards to how they relate to Knightrook. Y’all should check them out! It reminded me that for a long time I’ve been wanting to make an Alice Jones musical theatre playlist (because I’m a musical nerd). I thought I’d share with y’all and add some of my thoughts on how each song pertains to her and her loved ones’ story! Some songs fit more loosely than others. But yeah, it’s just a bit of angsty fun! Enjoy, if this is your thing! I may add to it in the future.

Here’s the full playlist!

Alice Jones

Once Upon A December- Anastasia: Tilly’s memories of her life as Alice coming back to her

Home- Beauty and the Beast: Alice accepting the tower as her home

Charming- Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812: Drizella seducing/manipulating Alice in Wonderland

Into the Unknown- Frozen 2: Alice contemplating whether to take seize her opportunity to escape and struggling with her mental health as her power grows.

Show Yourself- Frozen 2: Alice realising that the power to escape was within her all along

Monster- Frozen the Musical: Tilly after the Baker has been killed

Let it Out- The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals: The duality of Alice and Tilly. Alice’s true memories and personality trying to come to the the surface, initially confusing and horrifying Tilly

Lifeboat- Heathers the Musical: Tilly lamenting the fact that she is unaccepted by everyone

Dead Girl Walking (Reprise)- Heathers the Musical (suicide mention tw): Alice defeating Gothel

Stay With Me- Into the Woods: Gothel trying to convince Tilly to join her coven

Out There- The Hunchback of Notre Dame the Musical: Alice imagining what life is like outside her tower once her father has left

My Lullaby- The Lion King 2: Gothel trying to recruit Tilly to her cause

I Miss the Mountains- Next to Normal: Tilly contemplating life without her pills

In My Own Little Corner- Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella 1997: Alice alone in her tower, left with nothing but her imagination

The Mirror-Blue Night- Spring Awakening (Deaf West): No one understanding what goes on in Alice/Tilly’s head

Those You’ve Known- Spring Awakening (Deaf West): Tilly off her pills and Alice’s persona and memories slipping in, painfully reminding her that Wish Hook and Robin are lost to her as hallucinations of them try to reassure her

To Have A Home- AVPS: Alice/Tilly finally feeling at home in the world after all she’s been through

Coolest Girl- AVPS: Alice/Tilly believing in herself

No Way- AVPS: The heroes vs Gothel

Do You Want to Play?- Black Friday: Gothel taunting Alice in the tower in her nightmares or otherwise playing mind games

What if Tommorow Comes- Black Friday: Tilly knowing that everyone is wearing masks and having memories that no one else understands

Finishing the Hat- Sunday in the Park With George: Alice watching the world outside her tower as she can do nothing but paint, beginning to feel that it was inevitable her father would leave her or otherwise still feeling like she’s seperated from the world even after she’s escaped and feeling like Robin won’t stick by her because she sees the world so differently

Mother Knows Best (Reprise)- Tangled: Gothel/Eloise taunting Alice/Tilly about Margot

The Starry Night- Starry The Musical: How Tilly/Alice sees the world

On The Verge- Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown: Tilly/Alice having a breakdown

Invisible- Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown: Tilly feeling invisible. And lamenting the loss of the father in her false memories and what happened in her past

Down the Hole- Alice By Heart: Alice in Wonderland

Chillin’ the Regrets- Alice By Heart: Alice calmly drowning in her regrets in Wonderland perhaps under the influence of the catterpillar’s smoke

The Key is - Alice By Heart: Alice realising the key to escaping the tower was in her all along and resfusing to let the hope of finding her Papa go

Manage Your Flamingo - Alice By Heart: Alice chilling with the bizzare inhabitants of Wonderland

Sick To Death of Alice-ness - Alice By Heart: The way the world treats Tilly/Alice and the way she sees herself at those points in her life. Her also imagining that even her Papa/Rogers wouldn’t want her near them.

Another Room in Your Head- Alice By Heart: Alice saying goodbye to her loved ones before the curse

Isn't It A Trial? - Alice By Heart: Alice getting older in her tower, trying to hold onto the good parts of her childhood, feeling further and further away from ever escaping

Do You Think We Think You’re Alice?- Alice By Heart: Headcanon that Alice inadvertently conjured Wonderland into existence with her magic while in her tower and the figures in her imagination taking an antagonistic life of their own

I’ve Shrunk Enough- Alice By Heart: Alice/Tilly fighting back against the world that’s bee cruel to her, especially against Gothel/Eloise

Winter Blooms- Alice By Heart: Alice choosing to see the glass half full

The Web I Spin for You- Nightmare Time: Gothel haunting and using Alice, especially to enact her spell.

Knightrook

Pierre- Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812: Wish Hook after he's seperated from Alice

The Duel- Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812: Wish Hook’s life spiralling out of control after losing Alice and reminising about the dual that led to the seperation

Dust and Ashes- Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812: Wish Hook after being seperated from Alice, deciding to resume searching for a cure.

You Gotta Die Sometime- Falsettos: Wish Hook coming to terms with the fact that being in Alice’s presence is slowly killing him and feeling like he’s been dealt an unfair hand when it comes to just wanting to be with his daughter

The Next Right Thing- Frozen 2: Alice immediately after her father is banished from the tower

Not Your Seed- The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals: Wish Hook hallucinating about what Alice will become with the potential influence of Gothel now that he’s been banished from her

Ten Duel Commandments- Hamilton: It’s the ‘Knightfall’ duel!

Dear Theodosia- Hamilton: Wish Hook looking upon his baby daughter

No More- Into the Woods: Wish Hook giving up

I Dreamed a Dance/There’s A World- Next To Normal (suicide mention tw): Wish Hook hallucinating that Alice is there with him before Ariel saves his life

Missing You- AVPM: Alice and Killian missing each other from a distance

If I Believed- Twisted: Wish Hook thinking that Alice is dead but believing in his heart that she is alive

If I Fail You- Black Friday: Wish Hook’s fear of failing Alice again

Lost Without You- The Trail to Oregon!: Alice missing her dad as she searches the realms for a cure

On the Threshold of Eternity- Starry the Musical: Alice and Wish Hook alone and falling apart without each other

Before the Breakdown- We Are the Tigers: Wish Hook’s addiction

West of Words- Alice By Heart: Alice and her father’s imagination in the tower

Still- Alice By Heart: Killian and Alice’s limited time together after she escapes or the version of him her imagination conjures after he’s banishing reminding her that he can’t stay forever.

Brillig Braelig- Alice By Heart: Fighting against the fear and guilt of her fathers cursed condition

Some Things Fall Away- Alice By Heart: Alice coming to terms with losing her father

Your Shell of Grief- Alice By Heart: Alice being taken over by grief after being seperated from her father

Afternoon- Alice By Heart: Wish Hook and Alice saying goodbye

Curious Archer

No One Else-  Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812: Alice in love with Alice

For The First Time in Forever- Frozen: Robin/Margot trying to get through to Alice/Tilly on a bad day

Dangerous to Dream- Frozen the Musical: Tilly feeling that she has to hide her mental health struggles from Margot

Fight for Me- Heathers the Musical: Alice thinking about Robin fighting for her against the troll hunting mob

I Won't Say Im in Love- Hercules: Robin denying her feelings for Alice during the events of ‘The Girl in The Tower’

Perfect for You- Next to Normal: Margot telling Tilly she loves her for the first time

Hey #2- Next to Normal: Tilly pushing Margot away because she’s not ready for her to see her bad days

Why Stay/A Promise- Next to Normal: Tilly/Alice and Margot/Robin on a bad day

Hey #3/Perfect for You (Reprise) - Next to Normal: Alice scared about her future with Robin and fearing she might become her mother after she defeats her

I Am the One (Reprise)- Next to Normal: Wish Hook trying to block out all thoughts of Alice because it’s too painful but being reminded what she means to him by a hallucination of her

Something I Can’t See- Next to Normal (Cut Song): Margot struggling with Tilly’s bad days and not being able to understand the root of them

All That’s Known- Spring Awakening (Deaf West): Robin refusing to conform to the expectations of the people of Storybrooke

The Word of Your Body- Spring Awakening (Deaf West): Robin/Margot and Alice/Tilly wanting intimacy with each other

Don’t Do Sadness/Blue Wind- Spring Awakening (Deaf West): Tilly/Alice having a bad day and Margot/Robin attempting to calm her but failing

Totally F*cked- Spring Awakening- Spring Awakening (Deaf West): Robin getting caught for stealing Emma’s car or just being rebelious

Not Alone- AVPM: Robin/Margot reassuring Alice/Tilly

Even Though- MAMD: Robin realising her feelings for Alice

If You Knew- Lizzie the Musical: Either Robin/Margot or Alice/Tilly thinking about the other

Will You Stay?- Lizzie the Musical: Just CA being tender

As Long As You’re Mine- Wicked: Curious Archer saying their goodbyes before the curse

For Good- Wicked: Curious Archer saying their goodbyes before the curse

Those Long Eyes - Alice By Heart: Curious Archer falling in love. These lyrics make perfect sense to Alice.

[bluedemon1995]

ValenKidge 2022 Series of short snippets that will create a short story following dialogue prompts for each listed day. Enjoy!

Feb 6- “Shut Up and Kiss Me”

Keith is walking around the Garrison feeling as out of place as when he was a teen. Back then he would train and sleep. Or sneak out. Steal a car. Start a fight. Not many options were available to him back then. Hell, at that time in his life, he could not imagine a world that would accept him and he did not even know he was half alien at that point. It is truly crazy how life could take so many twists and turns. And yet, through all that, still some things do not change.

And while at the moment he did not see anyone he knew; there was definitely a small part of him regretting his decision to let his mom take Cosmo. However, today he knew he just had to be patient. He would find his people. His family. Walking and pointedly ignoring the looks and whispers, he recognized that he probably should have let the team know that he was back on Earth for the unforeseeable future.

Sighing, he thought of his options and finally decided to try Hunk’s new restaurant that he opened on base to kill some time before he knew everyone would be free. Maybe Hunk would be working. He knew Shiro had meetings and Lance was probably not even on the base. He wished he knew where Pidge’s new lab was but it was top secret and he did not want to interrupt when she was trying to recreate - when suddenly his arms were full of…Pidge. Whoa.

His senses were hit with so many elements at once that he was having a hard time processing. She yelled his name right before she wrapped her arms tightly around him; he was overcome with a sense of … rightness. His arms closed around her reflexively and he pulled her even closer. She was in her work clothes, which meant he could feel her heat and curves.

Damn, no body armor distancing her from him. Then he was overcome with her scent surrounded him and he swore he could feel her heartbeat racing. He could not help the way his chin nestled her hair or the quick intake of breath that he took. God he missed her. More than he realized, because right now his mind literally was just filled with her.

Hearing footsteps, he quickly glanced around trying to see if anyone else was around. No, no Lance or Hunk. Hmmm. Then he his gaze landed on a tall, muscly man with glasses and blond hair stop in front of him. Staring. No at him, nope his gaze was solely on Pidge.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you-“

Keith instinctively held Pidge closer and opened his mouth to reply when he heard Pidge’s whispered command, “Shut up and kiss me.”

Keith froze and looked down at her upturned face. She was definitely talking to him. She grabbed his shirt front and pulled. Keith stared into her eyes, thinking, okay she knows what she is saying and more importantly to who. Wordlessly, they held each others’ eyes and well. He’s not a complete idiot. He did what she commanded.

Feb 7-“Thank you for staying.”

Keith’s mouth fused to Pidge’s. No peck or brushing of lips for him. Nope, if he was getting a shot at kissing her, well he was not wasting it with grammar school kisses. Nope, he was going straight to madness. He kissed her deeply and with all the want he had stored for her. His tongue instantly swept in her mouth, tangling with hers. He did not want to be too aggressive but he was also desperate for this moment.

He dreamed of it. Woke up in a cold sweat worried he could not dare risk their friendship. Had nightmares that he tried and lost her. Dreaded coming home and finding her with someone else. Desperate to keep the status quo even though it killed him.

But then she commanded him. Ordered him. So he was not going to waste this opportunity. Fortune favored the bold. He could be bold. He would be bold. He did not dare not to. So he did everything he wished he could and kissed her with a single focus to imprint himself on her.

His hands gentled, his left thumb lightly caressing her lower back under her button down while his other arm surrounded her molding her to his body. Fingers spread out, hoping to feel her passion. His head tilted and he fought for a better angle. His mouth moved over hers voraciously. His tongue tangled with hers and she dueled with him, an equal as always. Perfectly matched to him. His other half.

Her groan reached his ears as her hands reflexively tightened on his neck and shoulder. Keith need more. More contact. He picked her up by the waist and she wrapped her legs around him. She bit his lip and then instantly soothed him by sucking on it. It was Keith’s turn to growl and he was right about to return the favor when a loud voice made it’s way to his consciousness.

“LET HER GO! I LOVE HER!!!”

Keith slowly separated his lips from hers. Slowly opening his eyes, he met the angry gaze of the blond man and frowned. Who was this creep?

Pidge slowly lowered her legs and turned in Keith’s arms. Leaning against him, she let him support her and stated slowly, “This is Keith, my boyfriend. I told you I was with someone. Repeatedly. Now you see. This was never going to happen Todd.”

Todd looks like he wants to argue but they are gathering a crowd. Keith keeps a firm hold on Pidge and gives him his meanest glare. At least he was told it was icy and dead.

They wait until he leaves and then Pidge looks up, face flushed and meet his eyes, “Thank you for staying.”

Keith somehow jerks out a nod. Then she elbows him, “Why did you not inform me you were coming back on planet? Hmmmm?”

[tsrookie]

Now, and Forevermore: Part 2

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Alyssa Brooks)

A/N: Super nervous about this one, because I’ve wanted to write an ILY fic for such a long time, but it always got pushed back thanks to PB and their stupid inconsistencies. May or may not have included a teeny tiny Merder reference.

Trope: Fluff

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning(s): One innuendo, that’s it

Link to Part 1

——————————

Loud music blared through the speakers. Few guests remained in their seats, choosing to watch the joyous celebrations on the dance floor.

A wedding was an event where people came together to rejoice the union of two souls. Two separate lives, binding together for life. They came together to celebrate friendship, eternal partnership, and love.

Alyssa was still figuring out a way to confess hers.

She stumbled to the side of the crowded hall along with Sienna, who was equally exhausted from dancing the night away.

“Oh my god I think the last time I danced this much was at our housewarming party two years ago.”

Her best friend let out a chuckle. “I remember. Jackie even managed to knock over a plate of fries which ended up on your hair.”

She took a sip of her drink before continuing, “Speaking of the housewarming party, where’s the only person from the hospital who declined our invitation? Haven’t seen him since your dance, which was almost an hour ago.”

“He’s probably over at one of the balconies, away from all the noise.”

“Hmm.”

Sienna let out a sigh before fixing her eyes on the newlyweds, happy in their own little bubble, without a single worry.

“They look so… content. Like they have everything they’ll ever need right there in each other’s arms.”

“Yeah… I guess you feel that way when you’re head over heels in love with someone, and by some miracle, they feel the same.”

She looked over at Alyssa, who had a soft smile on her face. Her best friend had found the kind of true love she had always dreamed of, and she only hoped that it would last forever.

“Have you two said it yet?”

“Said what?”

“You know what I mean. Eight letters. Three special words. Words you two have been skirting around for almost a year now.”

“I…” She looked down, a pensive look taking over. “I don’t know Si… it never feels like we have a proper moment to say it. Everyday at Edenbrook feels like an unpredictable circus where something could go wrong at any minute. Finding time to just… be with each other without worrying about work seems impossible. Besides, he knows how I feel about him, and same here. There’s no rush.”

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t always rely on your actions. Sometimes, words are better. Saying it makes it sure. It makes it feel real. Or else, you’ll be out of time before you know it. Say it out loud, Alyssa. Don’t waste time waiting for some perfect moment, because chances are, you might never get one.”

Alyssa held her hand tight, and took a moment to take in the gravity of her words. Sienna might’ve been ready to move on, but Danny was still someone she missed everyday.

“Okay.” She turned to face her. “I’ll tell him tonight. I promise.”

Sienna nodded her head in response, a small smile of satisfaction assuming her features.

—————

Ethan stood over by the railing, enjoying the feel of the sea breeze ruffling through his hair. The ocean glittered like diamonds, mirroring the starry sky. It was a magical sight, and he decided to go back into the raging party to bring Alyssa to enjoy the view with him. Although, he wasn’t sure his eyes would remain straight ahead with an actual goddess beside him.

“Thought I might find you here.”

His ears perked up. “I was just about to come and find you.”

“Well I found you first. Didn’t see you having any cake earlier, so I brought you some.”

He nodded in thanks. As she stood beside him, she looked positively ethereal. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the sight of the moonlit ocean, and her brunette hair danced along her bare shoulders.

Ethan didn’t have the words to describe her beauty, so he refrained to simply admiring her while he still had the time.

Her soft voice broke the comfortable silence they were in. “It’s beautiful out here. Kind of reminds me of the last time we were on a balcony facing the sea.”

He smiled ruefully. “You mean the night I threw every single rule I had for myself out the window and kissed you like my life depended on it, before leaving you the very same night to go sleep on the couch?”

“The very same. The only night where I had the best first kiss I could share with someone, and get dumped before we even got together.”

Ethan felt a pang of guilt in his chest upon hearing her words. He might have her now, but he would always regret the time he let go to waste.

Alyssa looked over at him, and his expression made her squeeze her eyes shut and smack her forehead. “Oh god I ruined the moment, didn’t I?” She took his hand in hers and said, “I’m so sorry. I’m under the influence of alcohol, so you know that I barely think before I blurt something out.”

“And here I was hoping we could have a proper conversation for the first time in months. Of course, I shouldn’t have had my expectations so high.”

She punched his shoulder playfully, and he took it as an opportunity to pull her closer. Closing his eyes, he breathed in her hair, which smelled of his shampoo from their shared suite. Ethan felt utterly content, having everything he ever needed and wanted in his arms, and wished he could stay rooted to the same spot for as long as he lived.

“Okay, Dr. Ethan ‘I would rather spend my time alone, in a party where his girlfriend’s having the time of her life, wishing her boyfriend would be there with her so that they could spend some quality time together’ Ramsey.”

“That’s… I think I preferred ‘freaking’ as my middle name compared to everything you just said.”

Soon, they were both laughing. She turned around to face him, and Ethan held her tighter. Taking in her face filled with happiness, illuminated by the light of the moon, he knew he had to say it.

“Is… everything okay?”

“I…” His throat closed up, at a loss for words. Saying the words he had longed to tell her for almost a year suddenly seemed impossible. After fearing true, long-lasting commitment for more than twenty five years, cementing his love for Alyssa scared him almost as much as the thought of ever losing her.

But looking into her concerned eyes, the eyes he could get lost into within the span of a second, he knew she deserved to hear it. She deserved the whole world, and so much more.

“It’s funny. I kept quiet all these months, not telling you what I should’ve told you the moment you were out of harm’s way after the attack, waiting for a perfect moment to present itself. When all along… I never realised that I didn’t need such a moment at all.”

He cupped her cheek, as she stared at him with wonder, yet a small smile dancing on her lips with the knowledge of what was to come. “Every single day, every minute, every second by your side, could not be more perfect. And I’m sorry that I didn’t know it sooner.”

“I love you, Alyssa Brooks. With all my heart, body and soul.”, he said as he brought her hand up to his thundering heart. “I believed love to be a lost and foreign concept, one which I would never be able to experience. But with you… I’d be an idiot to say that what I feel for you is anything but love. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love anyone as much as I love you and frankly, I don’t ever want to. I want to love you for the rest of my life. If you’ll let me, that is…”

Hopeful and earnest cerulean eyes stared back into awestruck shining brown, awaiting the response he desperately wanted to hear.

“Well… took you long enough.”, she teased, eyes sparkling with mirth. “I love you too, Ethan. More than you’ll ever know. And I want to love you for the rest of my life too.”

Matching her grin with one of his own, Ethan kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms round his neck and let her fingers tangle into his soft hair. He continued to kiss her with fervour, but she pulled away, panting.

“Don’t you think we should probably take this inside? I’d definitely like a more private celebration of us finally coming to our senses.”

“Are you sure? There’s still much left at the reception, including the bouquet toss, which I’m not sure Sienna would be okay with if you missed.”

She chuckled. “Considering the fact that she was the one who sent me out here to find you, I don’t think she’ll mind.” With a sudden surge of confidence, she added, “Besides… do you really think I should stay for that?”

Ethan held Alyssa’s gaze, which was both bold and bashful at the same time. He finally smirked and said, “No, you don’t have to.”

Her face broke into the smile he loved to see. A smile unburdened of all the worries in the world. A true and rare smile he thanked for being able to witness.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Alyssa took his hand and led him back to their room, but truthfully, he felt her lead him into a new life that would have its highs and lows, all filled with unconditional love.

He couldn’t wait to see what came next.

——————————

Link to Bonus Ending

A/N 2: Hope you guys liked it! There’s a small bonus ending I’ll be releasing soon, cause if my babies are happy, my babies’ number one shipper deserves to be happy too😌 Thank you so much for reading💙

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[samstree]

You are too well tangled in my soul (4/5)

In which Geralt tries to apologize, Jaskier has some unexpected encounters and Roach is the best.

(love confession, kaer morhen, 6.1k, no warnings)

read on AO3.

War breaks out.

Nilfgaard mercilessly scorches the continent, and Jaskier survives. The next time he sees Geralt, there’s a lost princess in tow.

The girl has pale blonde hair, just as Jaskier remembers from when he performed at her birthdays. Her green eyes are big and wary, staring at the bard from behind Geralt’s armored bulk.

Jaskier wouldn’t blame her, from what he learned from his encounters with Nilfgaard the girl must have been through hell. And from what he heard about Cintra, well, she has more demons to run from other than the evil army. She looks exhausted too, hair dirty and eyes alert, studying Jaskier intensely.

“You were at my birthday. You sang the songs.” The princess’s crisp voice breaks the silence.

“Yes, Princess Cirilla. I was at three of your birthdays, though you were too young to remember the first two.” he bows. “Jaskier the bard, at your service.”

She softens, nodding at Jaskier’s gesture. Her lips tug upward.

“Just Ciri.”

“Ciri, then.” Jaskier smiles at her.

“I loved your singing. It was beautiful.” she bites her lips, pausing, before putting her arm around the witcher’s. “Geralt only said we were looking for a friend. I didn’t know it was you.”

The mention of the name snaps Jaskier’s attention back to the witcher, who remains motionless and silent. This entire time, Geralt has been staring at Jaskier’s face, like he could blink and the bard would disappear. Jaskier stares back, and the bruise in his chest throbs anew.

“A friend, uh?” he feigns nonchalance and fails, suddenly his throat feeling dry. “Now you use the word, after all these years. Thought you’d keep insisting on not being my friend until the end of time. Thought I gave you life’s blessing –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt exhales. The word is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to stop the bard from landing a blow. The witcher doesn’t seem to have more words, despite continuing to look at Jaskier with remorseful sorrow.

Good. The pettiest part of Jaskier thrills at his regret, after all he’s the one who spewed all the venom on top of that mountain.

But one look at Geralt, Jaskier realized that he is just as tired and disheveled as the girl, if not more so. Being on the run from Nilfgaard is no fun, he learned that from personal experience.

Knowing Geralt, he is going to neglect his needs in favor of Ciri’s, gritting his teeth through everything. Jaskier finds himself searching all over him for injuries, familiar worry bubbling of its own volition.

Jaskier cannot even stay mad at him for long. Damn him.

“Why are you looking for me then?” he asks.

“I –” Geralt pauses. “Nilfgaard is looking for us. Hunting us. They want something, and they are willing to raise armies to chase us across the Continent.”

He tightens his hold on Ciri. The young princess looks away with a haunted expression.

“And they are also trying to hunt down whoever might know your location. They’ll torture them for the information.” Jaskier adds. His two near escapes are too vivid in his mind. The first time he only got away by the skin of his teeth. It turns out he’s not so bad with a dagger when faced with two Nilfgaardian footsoldiers.

As for the second time, he may have had help from an old friend. Not that Yennefer would be thrilled if he ever called her that. The story of his life, he thinks, it seems to be.

Realization dawns in Geralt’s eyes. “You already know they are looking for you. Are you – did they get to you, Jaskier?”

“Get to me? No,” Jaskier chuckles tightly. “I wouldn’t be standing here, would I? Your secrets are safe, Geralt. Not that I knew your whereabouts for the past year. They didn’t get anything from me, if that’s your worry.”

“No. Fuck –” Geralt curses under his breath, frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Jaskier challenges him, raising an eyebrow. Geralt struggles for words and starts to look like his usual brooding self again. It is Ciri who speaks up.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with us. It’s the safest place on the Continent,” the girl says.

Jaskier breathes, stunned. Of course, it makes sense for them to go. It is a home for Geralt. He remembers the first time Geralt told him about the witcher keep, in that greenhouse, a lifetime ago. To him, it is as much of a myth now as it was back then.

“You are sweet, Ciri. But I don’t think Geralt would want that.”

There’s a bitter tang in those words. Ciri scrunches up her brows, confused. “But he’s the one who wanted –”

“What Ciri meant,” Geralt interrupts, “was that Nilfgaard is still out there looking for us. When they can’t, they’ll come for you again.” Desperation bleeds into his tone. Or is it annoyance? “Come with us, Jask. You’ll be safe in Kaer Morhen.”

“I can take care of myself.” Jaskier’s resolution is swaying despite his pride.

“Jaskier…”

“Geralt.” He stays emotionless, waiting for the Witcher’s reasoning, but it doesn’t come.

It is the lost Cintran princess who decides for Jaskier.

“Can you just come with us?” her voice is uncertain, and it tugs at Jaskier’s heart. “Please?”

Jaskier looks into her green eyes and only sees the loss she endured. The fall of Cintra reached Jaskier like a punch in the gut. He thought Geralt’s Child Surprise – the bright-eyed little girl who danced to his songs – was lost with it, so when those soldiers started questioning him about her escape, Jaskier only felt relief. Now, the lone wolf stands protectively next to the lost lion cub.

Jaskier is glad Geralt went to find her, truly.

He finds himself nodding, and Ciri brightens up ever so slightly.

  “So, you are the boy?”

The dark-haired witcher says upon meeting Jaskier for the first time at the gate of Kaer Morhen when Geralt and Ciri have gone to stable the horse. He’s the same height and build as Geralt, only his shoulders are just a bit wider. Unlike Geralt, his hair is a muddy brown, and three nasty scars run down the right side of his cheek, making him look almost grotesque.

“Pardon?”

“The boy Geralt kept seeing.” His eyes fix on Jaskier with amusement, the golden color eerily identical to Geralt’s.

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone else –” Jaskier is rather surprised that another witcher knows about Geralt’s condition. “Yes, that’s me. But I’m hardly a boy anymore.” He extends a hand. “Jaskier.”

“Eskel.” The Witcher takes it with a friendly smile. Huh, not all of them are broody and rude.

“So you know about our…” Jaskier trails off for lack of a descriptor. Their bond? Their relationship? They certainly are not in one.

“Not much. If you’ve known my brother for this long, you’d know how little he talks.” Eskel offers an understanding pat on Jaskier’s back. “He just came back here one year and couldn’t shut up about an annoying bard. Then he came back another year. Disappeared in the middle of the day, and scared the shit out of us. We’d thought he was cursed out of existence by some angry mage. When he came back, out of thin air too, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost.”

“Not a ghost, only the same bard. As a boy.”

It makes sense, according to however little they know about the mechanism of it. Wintering at the witcher keep is the longest Geralt is away from the bard, so destiny has to drag him to Lettenhove. It would be hard to sail away from your anchor.

“Guess I’m too much of a nuisance. He can’t escape me even here, in his own home.”

“He never –” Eskel seems surprised at Jaskier’s remark. “I might need to have words with my brother, bard. And he was only upset because he worried for your safety.”

He smiles tightly. “It’s kind of you to say, Eskel. Though you don’t need to protect my feelings. I understand now. I would take myself off of his hands if I could.”

Too bad he can’t. Even if the invasion blows over, destiny would still work against Geralt’s attempt at free will at every opportunity.

He ignores Eskel’s inquisitive eyes as they stroll into the stone castle when Geralt and Ciri rejoin them.

  Geralt is trying to apologize.

He knows by the way Geralt follows him outside, and onto the trail behind the keep, somehow with guilt written all over his posture. It’s a nice place for a walk and for Jaskier to clear his head and compose under the pine trees.

Geralt has tried several times in the past few days. Every time they are left alone, the witcher assumes an expectant look on his face and begins to find words. Every time Jaskier interrupts him before it starts, making up whatever poor excuses he can find. Every time Geralt swallows and lets him go. He puts on a stoic face but Jaskier always sees the disappointed droop in those amber eyes that anyone else would have missed.

Jaskier can’t avoid it anymore, between the fresh smell of pine – his favorite scent in the world – and the sky, there’s nowhere to hide, so he stops to face it.

“Just say whatever you want to say,” he lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt blurts out without a beat. “I never should have said what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, Jask. I was upset and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair.”

Jaskier blinks.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“You’ve followed me for twenty years. You’ve known me for even longer. Fuck, Jaskier. Your whole life, you’ve known me, and yet you chose to stay.”

“I did,” he whispers, “but you tried to push me away, like everything else destiny forced upon you.”

The hurt in those golden eyes is unbearable to watch, so Jaskier averts the burn of his gaze to take a deep breath. The smell of pine fills his lungs, crisp and soothing.

“It was a mistake. I know that now, Jaskier.” The contrite is unmistakable. Geralt’s gravelly voice is as pained as Jaskier feels. From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier notices Geralt reach into his pocket for something. It is a small notebook, leather-bound and abused at the edges.

It’s his notebook.

It’s their notebook.

“I’ve kept records of everything, just like you did.” he holds out the book for Jaskier to take. “I’ve seen the future, you –”

“No!” Jaskier steps away as if the book might burn him. “You can’t use it against me, Geralt. You think I’ve never seen the future? I know where we are going. I know I’ll still choose you, because how can I not?” his voice breaks at the possibility of him leaving Geralt by choice. “But it doesn’t make it alright. I can’t just forgive you and pretend we are fine, just because the future says we should be.”

Geralt lowers his hand and the book with it. “I meant that…I understand you now. Why you would stand by me when no one else does, when it’s so much easier to just leave.”

“And how exactly did you arrive at this grand revelation?”

Geralt softens, his lips quick upward ever so slightly. “I saw you. In a little cottage by the sea, years from now, happy.”

Jaskier’s breath hitches. He’s so used to knowing all different versions of Geralt, so used to having the upper hand in this little dance, that the idea of his own future laid out like this makes him queasy.

“You told me – or will tell me, rather – why you spent your entire life choosing me when I’ve done nothing but push you away.” Geralt’s voice breaks at the obvious regret in it.

Because I love you, Jaskier thinks. I’ve loved you for too long.

He’s become so familiar with the notion it’s as easy as breathing.

“What do you want, then?”

“A chance. To prove myself again,” Geralt pleads. “To prove myself a worthy companion to you. Because you are my friend, my best friend. You have been since you were so young and I was just blind to it. Jaskier, I –”

I love you.

“– I choose you too. If you’ll let me show you. For the rest of my life, I’ll prove it to you every day, because I –”

I love you.

“– I love you.”

The words come out soft and reverent, the whisper so careful as if to avoid the birds overhearing him. Geralt stills after the confession, his eyes fixed on Jaskier in earnest.

For a moment Jaskier believes the declaration an echo of his imagination, conjured up from years of longing and heartbreak. But when he holds his breath and looks into Geralt’s resolved eyes, the truth washes over him like a cool shower on an autumn morning.

Deep in those ember eyes is the same affection he’s seen many times, during those too-short visits from his older Geralt, in the teasing smirks he carried at the corner of his mouth, or in the sweetness hidden behind his kiss, under a cold Cintran sky and addled by too much ale. It’s in the way Geralt takes him apart with deft fingers and gentle touches, over and over again throughout the years.

It’s the same love that propelled Geralt to ask for his trust and his faith when this moment comes.

“You love me.” Jaskier muses.

“I do. I have… for a while now.” Geralt’s breath forms in the crisp mountain air. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way, Jask. But please believe me when I say it. I love you. It’s the truest feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. Without any djinn magic, or destiny deciding what’s best. Please, at least have this much faith in me.”

After all this time Geralt still thinks it’s possible for Jaskier to not love him back.

I’m going to make mistakes, the older Geralt once said, don’t lose faith in me.

He made a promise after all.

“Okay,” Jaskeir exhales.

“Okay?”

When he looks into the amber glow again Geralt looks expectant.

“Okay,” Jaskier repeats, “You have it. A chance for us to try again, if you want it to go back to… before.”

Geralt exhales like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “It won’t be like before. I’ll do better, I give you my word.”

The sincerity is palpable in Geralt’s expression. The words come out so solemn and he’s clenched his jaw tightly. It looks like he just might break something if Jaskier doesn’t give him an out.

A smiles tugs at the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. And they say he’s the dramatic one.

“Oh, relax, you big oaf, before you hurt yourself. Of course I believe in you. It might be the most words I’ve ever heard from you. Didn’t think it was possible.”

He pats Geralt on the arm, before resting his hand there and squeezes. If Geralt leans into the touch, he doesn’t mention it.

“You,” Jaskeir continues, “You are forgiven, Geralt. I’ve always known I’d forgive you. You are not the only one who’s seen the future. Even if fate didn’t tell me to, I would still know you to be the best man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I would choose to stay by your side every time.”

The shuddering breath that chokes out Geralt’s throat is almost like a sob. Rumors say witchers can’t cry, but Jaskier learned it not to be true long ago, and he can see how much Geralt is affected right now.

He reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear before resting his hand on the spill of silver on his shoulder, and revels in the familiar feeling of silky hair against his palm.

“As for the other thing.” Jaskier thinks back on Geralt’s heartfelt confession, not sure if he has truly wrapped his head around it. “I think… I’ll need some time before we can do something about it.”

Geralt nods, his warm hand coming up to capture Jaskier’s wrist in a loose grip, the pad of his thumb stroking slightly again. Jaskier’s chest warms at the motion.

“Take all the time you need, Jask. I’ll be right here.”

  They spend the winter in the keep, in this safe bubble they created.

Ciri’s progress is obvious even to Jaskier’s untrained eyes. Her stance becomes more confident every day, her moves faster. The clanking of blunt swords echoes above the training ground as Jaskier watches from a bench in the corner, plucking his lute absent-mindedly.

The lion cub is starting to look like her grandmother, with her hair tied back and the sword cutting through the air with force.

The rise in confidence is doing her wonders. Her smile is becoming more often as winter settles in. The first time Ciri laughed out loud at the usual tomfoolery Lambert starts at dinner table, all four witchers and Jaskier stopped to stare at her for a brief moment before joining in.

Later that night, Geralt got emotional when it was just him and Jaskier, cleaning up in the kitchen.

“It’s just… it’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh.” Geralt’s throat bobbles when he says, and Jaskier’s heart breaks for them both, so he takes the plates from the Witcher’s hands and pulls him in for a hug, one that’s a little too tight.

In the courtyard, flurries of snow fall steadily as Ciri disarms Geralt with a twist of her wrist, the heavier sword flying off to the side. She squeaks in excitement.

“Take that, old man!”

Geralt goes to collect his blunt weapon, his chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. “You only did it because I let you, Ciri. Your enemies are not gonna let you disarm them for practice.”

Her pride morphs into a slight pout before it’s tucked away by her regal stance. They’ll make a warrior princess out of her after all.

“You just can’t let me have this one, can you?”

“Yeah, old man,” Jaskier chimes in. “Just admit your loss. I’m sure the White Wolf should know when he’s beaten.”

From Geralt’s glare, Jaskier knows he’s enjoying this too much, but he just can’t get the proud grin off of his face. Ciri sends him a smug smile when she puts away her weapon and gears.

From a distance, Lambert and Eskel are sheathing their training swords as well when Jaskier notices the snow falling harder by the minute, sending a shiver through his body despite the heavy coat wrapped around him. Ugh, his fingers are numb now.

“All right?” Geralt is all packed up, cheeks flushed from the exercise. He’s only wearing a simple tunic and yet it looks like the cold does not affect him at all. Ridiculous witcher biology.

Mischief lights up in Jaskier’s mind when he puts down the lute and walks towards Geralt, before putting his freezing palms flush against the Witcher’s neck.

“Jaskier, what – Fuck!”

He expects Geralt’s usual grunts and retaliation at the blatant offense. Roughhousing has never been a stranger to them, especially now that they are at ease in their friendship again.

What he does not expect is the concern that appears in Geralt’s eyes after a moment of shock and the warm hands that gently cover his.

“Oh Jask, you are freezing.” Geralt’s brows furrow in seriousness, calloused fingers starting to rub the back of Jaskier’s hands in a slow rhythm. Now that he notices, the heat radiating off of Geralt’s skin is lovely, tingling the numbness in his rigid hands and sending a different kind of shiver down his spine. “Gods, you might get frostbite like this. Don’t you have gloves?”

“Er – that’s not…” Jaskier stammers, suddenly aware of their closeness and the lack of everyone else on the training ground. Thank fuck they’ve all gone inside before his foolish prank. “I – I lost them…?”

Now Jaskier is the one blushing, but Geralt pays no mind to his embarrassment and continues to rub heat back into his exposed skin.

“I’ll make you new ones then. Can’t let a lutist lose his fingers,” Geralt murmurs.

The urge to kiss this sweet man is overwhelming, Jaskier has to look away from the beautiful golden yellow to calm his fluttering heart. It’d be too soon. He’s still raw from what went down in the past year.

Thankfully Ciri calls for them to get inside before they freeze over. Jaskier pulls away to answer her, immediately feeling empty without the warm touch. Now he’ll settle for walking to the great hall where a hearth is lit with Geralt by his side.

A week later, Jaskier finds a pair of newly knitted gloves on his bed. They are made with Geralt’s favorite wool – a thick, soft material – and fingerless so he can play. When he slips them on, the urge to track Geralt down in the keep and kiss him all over fills him again.

  Roach bites down on the second apple Jaskier offers her and munches gracelessly.

Jaskier pats her mane while she tries to chew off the fringe on his doublet. Now that he’s reunited with her master, Jaskier can spoil the mare as much as he wants. Not that anyone objected before. The mare clearly has a soft spot for the bard, Geralt is just too stubborn to admit it.

He is just saying goodbye to Roach when the familiar swoosh of magic startles him.

Destiny’s pull rarely works when they are together, so much so that Jaskier has almost forgotten about it for the months he’s within Kaer Morhen’s walls. On top of that, what greets him is not the bulk of a witcher.

Standing by the stalls is a scared little boy.

Jaskier is terrible with guessing children’s age, but this boy is definitely no more than six or seven, wearing plain summer clothes and holding a small bucket for dear life. The boy has a head full of dark curly hair and tears streaking down his cheeks. His brown eyes are wide and full of terror.

“Ma? Where are you?” he calls out, voice horse from crying.

Jaskier is stuck where he stands, too shocked to react. Somewhere next to him, Roach snorts nervously at the volume of the child’s cry.

Geralt once told him how he ended up in Vesemir’s care, when both of them had too much to drink on the eve of Belleteyn many years ago. They only meant to celebrate a hunt well done and Jaskier’s successful performance at the festival, but the drinks kept coming on the courtesy of the pub owner. Before Jaskier knew it, the Witcher was too gone and started to get melancholic in his inebriation.

For once in their lives, Jaskier was the one with some sanity left and promptly put Geralt back to their shared bed.

With the sound of people singing and dancing around bonfires in the distance, Geralt curled into himself, looking uncharacteristically small, and told Jaskier the last time he saw his mother.

“I stood there for so long, by the road. But she was gone,” Geralt slurred the words. “I kept waiting for her…”

Those words, combined with too much ale, broke Jaskier into a million pieces.

“It was so long ago. I don’t even remember what she looks like, the color of her eyes. Or my eyes, before…What was the color of my eyes?”

Jaskier had no answer.

That night, he listened as Geralt drifted off, thinking the witcher would forget about the confession come morning. Or was it Geralt who thought Jaskier never remembered? No matter what reason, Geralt never talked about it again and Jaskier respected that.

And here Geralt is, no more than seven, on what is probably the worst day of his life – having just been abandoned by his mother by the side of the road. He looks confused and cried-out, still clinging to the bucket so hard that his tiny knuckles are turning white.

His eyes are brown.

That’s all Jaskier can think.

The boy’s tears keep falling, and whatever heartbreak Jaskier felt on the night of Belleteyn, it’s not a match for now.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Jaskier shushes as gently as possible. He lowers himself in front of the boy, keeping the movement slow just to not upset him further. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Where is my ma?” young Geralt sniffles, and Jaskier doesn’t know how to answer that. The layers he’s wearing clearly cannot hold out the cold in the dead of winter. The boy is shivering.

“I’m sorry I don’t know where she is. But, here, put this on.” Jaskier shrugs off his coat and wraps it around the boy’s small frame, half of it pooling on the ground. He tries to coax the bucket out of the boy’s hands but he grips tighter.

“Where is she? Where did you take me?” the boy demands in panic.

“I promise I haven’t taken you anywhere, okay? Ger –” Jaskier catches himself. He’s a complete stranger to the child. He shouldn’t know him. “It’s too cold out here. We can go inside and wait for her there. Is that all right?”

The boy shakes his head. “Ma’s coming back to find me. I need to stay.”

“Okay, okay.” Jaskier tries not to panic, but he feels so helpless. He doesn’t even know where to put his hands so he tightens the coat around the boy’s shoulders. “How about this, I’ll find some help for us. Maybe someone from that castle can help. I don’t even know what would happen if they see you like this but…what other option do we have, eh?”

Before he can even get up, Jaskier finds the boy dropping the bucket and clinging to the sleeve of his doublet, the water spilling everywhere.

“No, don’t leave,” the boy says weakly, “Please.”

The boy’s chubby cheeks are streaked with tears, turning red in the mountain air. Jaskier wipes the wetness away with the pad of his thumb, his other arm still in the boy’s grip.

“All right. I won’t leave then, I promise.” Jaskier does his best to smile reassuringly. The ache in his chest makes it difficult but against all odds, it works. The young boy calms down just a little.

“I’ll stay with you, all right? But for now… do you want to make some new friends?”

Jaskier introduces the child to Roach, and he gets less afraid as soon as he sees the horse and reaches out to pet her. With their ridiculous height difference, it looks almost comical. The mare, ever the sweetheart, lowers her head as if she senses something familiar in the boy. She nuzzles his little hand and his eyes light up.

No matter how young, it seems Geralt will always enjoy Roach’s company above anyone else’s. Jaskier watches in wonder at the exchange before him. The boy’s distress dissipates gradually as the mare licks him and showers him in affection.

“Can I keep her?” the child giggles as Roach chews on his hair.

Jaskier smiles, “Sadly no, but maybe you’ll see her again. Who knows.”

All his life, Jaskier has known Geralt as the powerful witcher, his friend and protector. But right here, he’s just another ordinary child who loves giant animals. Only his future holds something no child should ever have to endure.

Jaskier wishes life wouldn’t have to burden this gentle boy, harden him into the warrior that he is now. This moment could last forever for all he cares, so this young boy wouldn’t need to go back to face the path ahead.

He doesn’t know how long they have here, undisturbed by the four witchers inside the keep, or the magic pulling them apart.

“Can I tell you something?” Jaskier says as the child runs his fingers through Roach’s mane. He turns around to look at the bard curiously with his beautiful brown eyes. “Do you know you’re a very good boy? And when you grow up, you’ll become a very good person.”

“Ma says I should do good.”

“She’s right.”

“And doing good is hard… sometimes.”

Jaskier swallows the lump in his throat. “That too. Life is difficult, unfair even. But you are strong, stronger than you’ll ever believe. Remember this, and you’ll find a way.”

“I’m strong?” the boy looks at Jaskier expectantly. His tiny frame is drowned in Jaskier’s coat.

“The strongest.” the bard nods.

“Like a knight?”

“Better than a knight.”

The smile that lights up the boy’s rosy cheeks is the most wonderful thing Jaskier has ever seen, better than the northern lights on these mountains. But their moment seems to have come to an end.

The swoosh of magic Jaskier knows by heart brushes by his ear, and Roach suddenly brays anxiously in her stall.

“I feel weird.” The panic returns to the boy’s voice.

“It’s okay. It means we have to say goodbye.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Never.”

“But why do we have to say goodbye?” his tiny voice gets tight and scared once more. Jaskier shushes him gently.

“Because we’ll see each other again.”

“And horsie too?”

“Her too.” Jaskier nods solemnly.

The boy waves nervously at Jaskier, and then the mare. His big brown eyes bore into Jaskier’s with hope and trust, a trust that will be returned decades from now, for him at least.

“Goodbye.”

Once again, Jaskier is left alone. Snow falls silently in the courtyard like it has been for days.

  The rest of the day passes in a blur. Jaskier goes through dinner without a word, no matter how the four witchers try to engage with him.

Eskel is his usual self, nice and respectful, not prodding after noticing Jaskier in a weird mood. It’s something Lambert physically cannot do, because he constantly asks Jaskier what is wrong, trying to get a response out of him.

“You smell miserable, buttercup, like you are about to pass out.”

Jaskier imagines the tight smile he offers is not the most convincing, since everyone only gets more concerned. Ciri puts her hand on his arm as a silent question, and when she can’t get an answer she starts brooding just like Geralt.

Jaskier would laugh at their likeness if not for his mind racing so fast.

Geralt must have noticed the moment he came back from the stables. He has not let Jaskier out of his sight since, his worry silent but not pushing. After dinner, Jaskier can still feel the weighted gaze on his back, following him all the way back to the bedroom.

He leads Geralt into his room at the end of the hallway and shuts the door. With a soft click of the door, Jaskier turns to throw himself at the witcher with a force that would have knocked over any other man, but Geralt only catches his momentum, solid and steady. He buries his nose into Geralt’s shoulder and lets the familiar smell of pine and soap fill his senses.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice rumbles out of his chest, deep and patient. “You know, Lambert was right. You smell so…sad.”

“I made you a promise.” Jaskier’s voice is muffled by Geralt’s shoulder.

“What?”

“I made you a promise. Years ago for me, and years from now for you. To always have faith in you, even when you make mistakes.” Jaskier extracts his limbs and looks into the confusion in the flowing amber. He presses their lips together, sweet and lingering, like they have all the time in the world. The kiss tastes like the lost years between them, all the laughter and heartaches, the lust and yearning, and the dust and smoke from war. He pulls away.

The last time he kissed Geralt, it was by the side of a road, full of rage and hurt. This time, it’s hope that rises like a winter sun, cozy but not sweltering.

“This is me keeping that promise.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt swallows, composing himself, “You know I won’t hold it against you. It’s not fair for you to be pressured into this just for something I haven’t asked of you yet. I meant it when I said you can take all the time you need, because I did fuck up, and I’m so –”

“Don’t apologize again,” Jaskier interrupts, “I know how sorry you feel, how you’ll still feel even years from now. Just – don’t.”

He presses his forehead to Geralt’s and they breathe in tandem. Maybe he’s still affected by the memory of Geralt as a child, scared and alone, unaware of the hurt he’s about to receive. The trials, growing up away from home, training to become a weapon, the glares people cast at him. Jaskier shudders to think, desperately needing to shield his witcher from the world, but he was powerless in the stable this afternoon. He is not powerless now.

“How about a promise you did hear from me?” he asks.

Geralt frowns in confusion, waiting for him to explain, so Jaskier cups Geralt’s jaw to study him again, his thumb resting exactly where he wiped tears off of the boy hours ago.

“They were brown.”

The confusion in the amber eyes only grows.

“Your eyes, before the trials. They used to be brown.”

Geralt still looks at him incredulously. When it comes out like that, Jaskier probably sounds crazy.

“Your mother left you by the side of the road. She told you to get water, and when you got back she was gone,” he swallows, “You waited, holding a bucket of water. You waited until you went somewhere else. Somewhere cold, there’s a horse and snow and –”

“Oh.”

Realization dawns on Geralt like a lightning strike. He stares at Jaskier in disbelief.

“All these years –” he whispers, “How is it possible? I thought it was a dream. Vesemir told me it was a dream, that I was in so much shock that I conjured it up in my mind. A horse in the snow, chestnut brown, and…”

“And me,” Jaskier almost chokes out, “It wasn’t a dream.”

Geralt looks pained. All this talk about that day must be dredging up terrible memories and Jaskier never wants to hurt him on top of that.

“Do you remember what I said before you went back?”

To which Geralt chuckles tightly.

“That whole day was a bit hazy in my memory, Jask. Vesemir was right in that I was in shock. And I’ve tried so hard to forget about that day, to bury it so I don’t have to think about it.” he holds on to Jaskier, studying him in a new light. “I just remember that you made me feel so warm, Jask. You were the only good thing on the worst day of my life.”

The ache in Jaskier’s chest lessens somehow at those words. For whatever reason destiny decided to weave their fates together, he’s grateful for it just for that moment’s solace alone.

“You knew you were leaving.”

“I did. Now that I know, it was the first time I ever got pulled through time. To you.”

“I did promise we would see each other again.” Jaskier smiles.

Geralt pauses for a moment. Gradually, the golden yellow lights up like the most beautiful constellation in the night sky.

“You promised to never leave me.”

This time when their lips come together, it’s quiet and natural, like a piece of puzzle falling into place. Jaskier backs Geralt towards the bed, and they almost fall over onto the mattress, breaking the contact.

Geralt chases him with heated fervor, to which Jaskier gladly returns with a soft moan. He’s missed his witcher after all. Any space separating them at this moment needs to be closed like it personally offends him.

Tomorrow morning, Jaskier will wake Geralt with fingers through his hair and lips pressed to his forehead. Tomorrow Jaskier will tell him how much he loves him, over and over again. It won’t be the first time Jaskier has uttered the words, but it will be the first affirmation Geralt receives. Tomorrow Geralt will crinkle his eyes and return the words sleepily while dragging Jaskier back under the covers.

Tomorrow they’ll start a new chapter, together.

For now, they fall into each other under the night sky of the Blue Mountains, in a small room with a roaring fire burning in the hearth, tucked away from war and heartbreak.

[writingwithcolor]

Magical person in history, on not intervening on human rights issues

I am writing a dating sim/visual novel set in the present day. A major (non-romanceable) character is an ancient sorceress who moved from France to the Pacific Northwest in the 1850s. She is white. She is shown to have powerful magic. She also works closely with the main characters and develops personal relationships with them as she teaches them magic, giving each character comfort and advice during their respective stories.

Considering the events in America around her move-in date, there’s no way she could have missed the horrible human rights abuses going on, and there’s no way she was too powerless to help, even when most of the fighting and slavery was so far away. So I’m having trouble balancing “don’t make her a white savior by having her personally fireball Robert E. Lee” against “Hogwarts University is cancelled because Dumbledorette didn’t care about slavery.” I had the idea that the magical regulating body back home in France didn’t want her to intervene due to political reasons, so she helped out in small ways that could safely fly under the radar. She later realized that she prioritized her social standing over the suffering of countless others, so she began making a point of reducing human suffering as much as she could.

I can’t imagine this will show up in more than one small scene, but doing it wrong could really sour the whole thing. Is this backstory still icky? Should I just not mention it and let readers headcanon what they please?

I’m wondering what you think was happening in the PNW at the time for the fighting and slavery to be “far away.” Washington State had the Cayuse War at exactly this time period, Oregon didn’t ratify treaties and was calling for the extermination of “the I*dian race” in roughly this time period, and California’s Gold Rush created the California Genocide starting heavily in the 1840s, picking up steam in the 1850s, which included slavery of California Natives thanks to a law enacted in 1850 that lasted for 13 years. 

This is all from the top five results of googling “pacific northwest genocide 1850”, for the record. It’s not exactly hidden history.

So suddenly your character’s lack of movement in healing the poisoned populations as disease ravaged the area, in attempting to stop or at least buy and free the enslaved Natives being auctioned on their doorstep, or in attempting to get treaties ratified and honoured looks a lot more damning.

This is not counting any of the future events that happened at the turn of the century, including the Chinese Exclusion Act, the Hawai’i monarchy being overthrown, and Federal Order 9066, which is the WWII concentration camps (that included Japanese, German, and Italian individuals). This is just to name a handful of coastal issues in the next 100 years, completely ignoring Jim Crow, residential schools, the San Francisco Earthquake (which nearly had Chinese people relocated to the worst land imaginable for gentrification purposes, had the Empress of China not stepped in), and many others.

In short: she would have had hundreds of opportunities to end suffering, and focusing on a single event as a small scene feels disproportionate to how much she could have done.

And honestly? The French were no angels. 

The Second French Colonial Empire was one of the largest empires in history, and it began in 1830, covering roughly a third of Africa. The First French Colonial Empire began in the 1600s, and had both India and North America, primarily Canada.

She was white. French. You don’t specify her birth year other than “ancient”, but considering the sheer amount of territory-grabbing France has been doing since Normandy invaded England in the eleventh century AD, I’m going to assume her birth year is somewhere more recent than that. Therefore, I’m going to assume she has been around the Catholic Missionary Attitude that France had; one could call that attitude the bedrock of its existence for at least a millennia (and is still visible in modern day).

So tell me: when did she break out of it? What made her even care about human atrocities, when she has likely grown up watching France commit them her entire life? 

Because let me just say, she has had plenty of opportunities to realize she did nothing in the face of her neighbours’ hatred of people not like them, and she has never taken them before. 

Did she (or her parents, if she was born around this time) decry Napoleon re-introducing slavery in France in 1802? Side with Haiti when it declared independence in 1804, and hate that the government forced Haiti to pay for the “theft” of slaves and land (that was only paid off in 1947)? Is she presently championing for France to pay Haiti the money it wrongfully took from the country? Did she hate the delays in stopping the French slave trade, which took 11 years to actually stop after it was banned on paper? 

Unconditional emancipation was only reached in 1848, after all. I don’t care if she was born in 1830, there was some sort of major racial event happening in France all throughout the late 1700s to mid-1800s. Where did she side then?

Abolitionism was not an unknown concept in France, so it is possible she had already been working towards it quietly, but that would mean she would have felt guilt at inaction much earlier, depending on when she began decrying slavery—if she was even delayed in decrying it, which I will admit is possible. 

And if she was an abolitionist, would she have even listened to the French government in not at least easing the genocide around her? Because she would have watched nearly 100 years of the French dragging their feet on stopping slavery in their empire, and known how BS it all was… if she saw it that way.

That’s just abolitionism, and is not even counting the French relationship with the Native population in Quebec and the Great Lakes region, which is a giant tangle of proxy wars, colonialism, missionary work, and very, very, very complex relationships that started off good and ended terribly.

So I ask again: why did she only start caring then?

Speaking of proxy wars, the Napoleon Empire wanted a Confederate victory, because the Confederacy was its source of cotton and the American Civil War created a “cotton famine” in France that basically forced the textile industry into a massive downsizing. The Confederacy also tolerated Napoleon’s plans for expanding the empire in Mexico, which actually had begun in December of 1861.

So when it comes to how a magical board would rule—even though France was officially neutral in the war, the court of public opinion (among politicians and capitalists) was more on the Confederate side than the Union side. Many politicians secretly worked with the Confederacy, until they abandoned them when the Union showed signs of winning. The only reason France officially remained neutral is because a war with the British was inevitable if they acknowledged the Confederacy, and Napoleon didn’t want that.

I shall work under the assumption that because it was rather literally on her doorstep when she moved to America, she lost insulation to it (if she hadn’t thought about it before), but I will say how iffy that makes her look in the long term if she had so many opportunities beforehand (at the very least, seeing slaves in France).

My other option is the word “ancient” is liberally applied and she was only in her 20s or 30s when 1850 hit, and therefore had not had many opportunities to see otherwise (but she still would have seen slaves in France, likely).

Onto the white guilt and white saviour aspects

Strictly from a writing perspective, you have to determine if she changed the course of history, or not. This would not necessarily be within the realm of white saviour, seeing as white people were the only ones listened to at the time. You can see people who changed the course of history in this period by looking up the pastor who insisted Lincoln hold fair trials for the Dakota, which brought the execution count from over 200 down to 38. You can also look at Alice Fletcher, who made quite a few laws designed to protect Native people, but whether or not they were successful is up for debate (and she regretted some of the laws she helped enact).

If not, then you have the current tangle you’re dealing with.

Option 1

She was unestablished in America and relied on the magical regulations board to protect her, and she figured working small and under the radar would mean she could do more good long-term by not being killed, so long as you establish that such a threat is viable.

This option only works if she’s an active advocate for the slew of other racist acts that pass once she’s settled in America, of which I gave many examples above.

Option 2

She actually did change the course of history in perhaps a mixed way, or perhaps a positive way. She could have relied completely on being a white, well-to-do voice in the community, which would have granted her some privilege without using a drop of magic. 

This can apply to any point in history, seeing as there were a lot of others to pick from. It would be particularly useful once suffrage was achieved, and if she was part of suffrage, did she call out Susan B. Anthony’s racism? Did she encourage allowing non-whites to vote?

Option 3 

She was slow to care, and did not actually understand what a big deal it was that such atrocities were happening until it was too late. This leads to her dedication to atonement the strongest, but you have to be careful about white guilt. This option can go along with option 1.

This allows her to be a passive player in future racist events, but makes her an even more privileged white character who PoC will have a hard time seeing as kindly, and you should go out of your way to show white players how unkind and privileged she was, and perhaps still is.

Option 4 

she doesn’t actually care much, because she has a president of not caring about atrocities happening in France, and her bigotry shows up in other ways in modern day and she’s just a kindly-but-bigoted character. She’s your wonderful grandma who you have beautiful memories with… she just doesn’t care about anyone not white.

This can go along with option 3, as she was so slow to realize that she is still bigoted and hasn’t done any work, but her racism is going to be more covert and you’ll have to do research on microaggressions and how to frame them.

Based off the way her lack of action is framed in-story and how little a plot role it plays, I would say that option 4 with a dash of option 3 appears to be the most likely interpretation of her character by PoC. She’s lip-service to progress, at present, but seems to have made no strides in losing her social standing to be an ally.

Now here’s why I don’t think you should let readers headcanon her however they want:

White players in particular are going to minimize her culpability in what happened, and think that she did all that she could, and she is a Totally Redeemed Character now. In fact, they’ll probably wonder why she’s even an Atoner, because she did something, right? She helped, right? And now she’s helping and that’s plenty. She’s good to the players, so she is a Good Person.

Meanwhile PoC players are going to see yet another white author ignore the fact that colonialism was happening en masse at the time, and that white people deeply benefited from it, and are going to see the “it happened in the past why do you keep bringing up racism?” defence continued.

Let her be flawed. Let her be on stolen land and acknowledge it every time she teaches them something, and let her sit and exist in the guilt that happens when she realizes she could have stopped the theft but didn’t. Let her not wallow in self hate, but acknowledge her mistake with every lesson the main characters receive, and let her work on righting that wrong by championing “land back” causes that centre Indigenous voices.

Let her dialogue options show every trace of how the past is not over because the past’s actions are still being felt and reparations have not been made. The settler state is still controlling the land she has made home and she knows exactly what they did to get it, and she passes that knowledge on.

Let players be uncomfortable with the knowledge that, if they sit by and “only do small things when they can, to not lose anything”, they are complicit. Let white people see they must well and truly denounce what has been given to them by their racist, colonial ancestors in order for PoC to “stop talking about racism.”

Make her use whatever income she makes be paid in part to Native causes, as rent for the land she occupies unfairly. Make her refuse to teach bigoted students who want “mystic secrets” that aren’t hers to give, that were appropriated centuries ago. Make part of her life’s work be hiding away Black and Indigenous spiritual leaders to minimize the loss.

Let her past be imperfect. And do not force redemption on her, but instead let her own the fact she made catastrophic mistakes that will not be redeemed until land has been returned to the Native population. Until all forms of slavery are abolished. Until colonial powers give back all the resources and finances they stole from their colonized regions. Until the privilege that white people spilled so much blood to secure is no more.

Because if you want her to truly be a good character who does not support racism? That is the level you have to step towards.

Everything else is simply whiteness trying to make itself feel better.

~Mod Lesya

[visionsofus]

For the mixtape, could I request either Ho Hey by the Lumineers (for fluff) or the Scientist- Coldplay (for emotional angst)? 💕

anon: hey :)) have you ever thought of writing about wanda & visions first kiss? (or even the first time they hug!) i adore the way you write from visions perspective and how he gains his humanity. i think if wanda initiated it and it was something completely new to him he would have a lot of... feelings.. to work through :)

I decided to combine these two, I hope that's okay I just really wanted to use the Scientist for this - I think it turned out more fluffy than angsty tho oops 

Track #20: The Scientist by Coldplay 

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

The compound was quiet as Vision settled into his usual armchair in the living room. These days it was always quiet, no matter the time. Currently it was the early hours of the morning and he had given up on resting, instead opting to occupy his racing mind with a book. To stave off the suffocating silence, Vision sent a request through to the compound AI to play a soft collection of songs he found comforting. He sunk back into the chair, trying to focus on that which was before him, the feeling of his feet against the floor, his fingertips on the worn paper of his novel, the acoustic sounds coming from the speakers overhead.

And beyond it all a great and heavy silence.

Once upon a time Vision had relished these quiet moments. Now they were a burden, a reminder of all that had happened in the last 6 weeks.

Rhodey, Tony and Happy – the only remaining residents at the upstate compound – were all otherwise occupied. Tony had gone down to Stark Industries to see Pepper, still in the process of trying to mend their relationship. Happy and Rhodey had retired to their respective quarters hours ago.

Vision had tried to rest but he was unable to settle into sleep.  It wasn’t as though he needed the rest, what with the Accords so often confining him to wandering the compound day in and day out.

The book he had selected to read on this particular evening would have normally guaranteed his attention. Vision had made it through all the main philosophers easily and was just coming to the end of a few key scientific philosophers. Normally he’d be in raptures over the theories before him, but tonight he just wasn’t in the right mood. After trying to stay focused for half an hour and realising he had only made it through a measly 12 pages, Vision decided to give up.

He left the book abandoned in the chair, switching out the reading lamp as he went but left the haunting echoes of music to follow him. He was a ghost these days, a ship sailing without the direction of a compass, let alone a destination.

The south wing on the second floor had once been the hub of life at the compound but it now lay dormant. It’s inhabitants were long gone, down some other path that Vision no longer had the power to follow. Steve’s room was empty, the door permanently closed. Next door, Sam’s room was exactly as it had been left. None of those who still remained could bring themselves to address the belongings left by their ex-teammates. Either that or they were, like Vision, holding out hope that they wouldn’t need to, that this would all be fixed. He was aware of the irrationality of this particular hope but sometimes it felt like it was the only thing keeping him going.

At the end of the corridor was the door he hadn’t looked at in 6 weeks, never letting himself get far enough into this wing to see it. The emotions it roused in him were too tender, too fresh and painful to face, though they lingered at the corners of his mind every night. Regret, longing, affection, loss…

He wanted to keep moving, to leave behind the pain of those emotions just as he had left her behind to be captured and taken. Frustrated with his own avoidance, Vision halted himself before he could walk away and cower from his emotions for yet another night. They would keep on overwhelming him if he didn’t face things head on.

Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on the cool metal of the doorknob and slowly twisted, letting go so that the door might swung open. The air inside still smelt of Wanda’s perfume and his heart seized at how close it made her feel. The light of the corridor was like a knife cutting through the shadows of the abandoned space within.

Feeling slightly unsteady, Vision forced himself to take the first step over the threshold. If only he could stay inside for a moment, to give himself an opportunity to feel what he felt and not run from it. Perhaps it could bring some kind of clarity to how directionless he had become in her absence.

He felt the sickening sensation of his stomach dropping to the floor as his eyes made sense of the sight before him. The air, which had remained still for the past six weeks, was alight with movement and his eyes became aware of a second heat signature within the room that should be empty.

Vision was immediately on guard, his hands raising defensively as he prepared himself to signal the compound’s security system. Whoever this was had made it past the gates, past the walls of security and sensors that were his job to monitor.

It was then that he caught sight of the familiar eyes staring him down. They glinted in the light from the corridor as Wanda hesitantly stepped away, her hand reaching towards the open window at her back. He felt sure that she was a figment of his imagination. And yet she was not, her eyes, her hesitant smile as she met his gaze – that was all the real Wanda.

Vision reached his hand out, unable to form the word he’d wanted to say all those weeks ago. “Wait.”

The simple request hung in the air between them, and Wanda did indeed pause.

“You know I won’t report you, just please don’t leave yet,” Vision said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them, aware that in doing so he as breaking his commitment to the Accords. In that moment he couldn’t have cared less. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Wanda said without hesitation, stepping away from her escape route and towards him.

She kept coming closer and Vision tensed up, frozen in place. He only relaxed once her arms had slipped around his waist in a tender hug. He settled into her embrace, calmed by her familiarity, though they had only hugged once or twice in the past and certainly never for this long. He rested his chin atop her head and sighed contently, only caring that she was here and safe before him. Vision had never wanted to hold onto her more, had never felt such a need to be close to someone like this. But it had always been like that with Wanda, hadn’t it? She’d been the source of all his emotion in those early days and little had changed since.

“Where have you been?” He whispered as she pulled away and gazed up at him.

“Here and there,” she murmured turning to take in her room now cast in light from the corridor. “It’s been tough staying under the radar, but we’ve been okay.”

“And here,” Vision said gesturing to the room, and the compound at large, “what on earth are you doing here? This isn’t laying low – how did you even make it inside?”

“Woah so many questions,” she muttered smiling at him. “I came to get this.” She held up a crinkled photo, a photo of her family that he had only seen on the rare occasion on her nightstand. Vision nodded in understanding.

“And I hoped I might bump into you,” she said with a smile and Vision’s heart fluttered in response. She took a step closer again, tucking the photo into her pocket and Vision hovered closer, unable to stop the way he leaned to her. But he managed, pausing when their heads were so close that they were sharing the same air and Wanda’s eyes had fluttered closed. He couldn’t be doing this. She was a fugitive; he was practically a government lacky. And he needed to get her out of the compound before she was caught.  

“I need to see you out,” Vision said taking her arm and guiding her out into the corridor. “No one will be up at this hour so there’s no sense in you climbing out the window. I can chop up the security footage so no one sees you leave.”

“I kinda fried them on the way in,” Wanda said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Always so discrete,” Vision joked.

“I missed you,” Wanda said sadly.

“I missed you as well, more than I could bear.”

She was quiet but he saw her lips turn up at his admission. “It is not the same here without you.” The compound no longer felt like a home without Wanda there to share it with him.

They were about to walk out into the communal kitchen when Vision caught sight of Rhodey, sitting at the kitchen island with a steaming cup sat before him. Vision jerked them both back, unconsciously pressing Wanda into him as he hid her from view. They stayed still a moment as Vision waited hesitantly for the sound of Rhodey’s voice, for them to be caught. But there was only the sound of typing and the clink of the mug on the marble countertop.

Vision opened his eyes as he breathed out a sigh of relief only to come face to face with Wanda’s nose brushing his. They were so close and his heart, gosh his heart – he might as well have finished a sprint with the rate that it was going. Was a synthetic heart supposed to beat this fast? Vision swallowed audibly as Wanda hovered closer, mimicking her movements as their foreheads pressed together. Her eyes closed and her hand tightened on his arm which was curved bracingly around her back.

“Vis,” she murmured.

Vision wasn’t sure what might have happened if he hadn’t heard the scrape of Rhodey rising out of his chair right at that moment. Without thinking he turned around and phased Wanda through the wall into his bedroom at their back. He lost his footing as he tugged her through, tripping backwards and thudding to the floor, her legs tangling with his so that she landed atop him.

If Vision had thought they were close before, it was nothing compared to now. The way they fit together; it was like he had been built for her. Her hair swung over her shoulder as she raised herself up on one arm and her eyes searched his face, a strange desperation to her gaze. Vision’s tensed as he realised, he had both hands pressed to her waist.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, perhaps it was neither or perhaps both. There might as well have been a magnetic field pulling them together for they collided with such synergy that Vision felt a clear, crisp certainty that this was meant to be.  

Her lips were so soft and she felt so real above him that he sighed blissfully. Vision had never kissed anyone before, had never wanted to kiss anyone like he did Wanda. He wasn’t sure how long he had wanted to be like this with her, a long while it seemed.  

He raised a hand to cup her cheek, marvelling at her as she pressed herself closer.  

They both froze when footsteps echoed in the hall outside.

“Vision?” Came Rhodey’s voice from outside the door and Vision didn’t know what might have happened if Wanda hadn’t raised her hand at that exact second. Her magic was flung outwards and sent the lock of his bedroom door sliding closed with a heavy click. Rhodey sounded confused outside. “I thought I heard something, good night I guess…”

Wanda huffed and looked to the side, watching the shadows peaking beneath the door move away. Vision looked up at her, awestruck. Never before had she appeared as beautiful as she did now, hovering above his chest, her hair a mess and her eyes bright and alert.

“You’re magnificent,” he murmured, brushing his nose along her jaw trying his best to get a grip of the longing in his heart. At this Wanda swung her head back to gaze down at him, her hand rising to caress his cheek even as she came in for another kiss. It lasted longer this time, neither quite ready to part and face the consequences of what was supposed to happen next.

“Might we get up off the floor?” Vision asked, reluctantly pulling away from her captivating mouth.

Wanda laughed quietly and pressed her mouth quickly to his, pulling him up as she did. Unsure what else to do, Vision pulled Wanda to the bed and sat her down beside him. He faced away from her, his hands on his knees concerned of what might happen if he didn’t.

“This is new,” Wanda said leaning forward to catch his gaze.

“Indeed,” Vision said breathlessly, his fingers tapping rapidly upon his legs.

“Is it okay?” Wanda asked hesitantly, reaching out to take his restless hands.

Vision opened and closed his mouth uselessly in response. Wanda hummed thoughtfully and he worried that she took his silence as pushing her away, which was not at all what he intended to do. Even just the contact of her hands on his was enough to make his heartbeat rise, his skin prickling in anticipation. Instead of making to leave, Wanda shuffled closer, folding her legs upon the bed and pulling his hands to rest in her lap, their fingers interlocked.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Absentmindedly Vision rubbed his thumbs along the back of her hands. “I think I have waited a long time for that.”

Wanda smiled softly. “It’s long overdue.”

She wasn’t wrong, it was just Vision had never thought he’d have the opportunity to act on his growing feelings, all those hopes had been dashed when she had become a fugitive. And never had he presumed that his complex feelings might be reciprocated.

“Wanda,” he said, conscious that they had to keep their voices lowered, “I may be made of synthetic parts, but I want you to know, I need you to know that what I feel is real.”

“I’ve never doubted that your feelings are genuine, Vis,” she murmured back.

“You know, then, that my emotions are responses to stimuli in the same way that yours are?” He asked and she nodded slowly in understanding. “I’ve become more aware of this fact in recent months as these feelings have become more unruly and difficult to control. Especially around you, especially aboutyou.”

Wanda tilted her head in consideration and Vision squeezed her hands. “What if I stopped trying to control them, what if I just let them be?”

Wanda’s responding smirk was a challenge. “What did you have in mind?”

“It may be presumptuous, but this isn’t all one-sided… I think…”

She smiled and shook her head, shuffling closer. “I wouldn’t say its one-sided.”

They were being drawn together again and connection was inevitable. Wanda sighed into his mouth in a way that told Vision she felt the same, the same relief at being this, whatever this was or might become.

“Let’s pursue this,” Vision whispered pulling away, only to press their foreheads together. “Let us see what we might become if we let ourselves have the chance.”

Wanda’s gaze turned downcast. “If this had happened two months ago I might have been more open to the idea,” she said sadly, “but things are different now, Vis, we’re on two very different sides of a war.”

“But it is not ourwar,” he whispered, pressing a hesitant kiss to her temple and drawing back so he could see her fully.

Her answering sigh was not one of hope. “Forget the specifics, forget the Accords, forget everything difficult!” She laughed at Vision’s hopeful smile as he spoke excitedly.

“Pretend that it’s just me, and you – is this something you want?” His throat tightened on the final word, almost cutting him off. His cards were on the table and if she were to say no then there would be no further discussion and they would have to go their separate ways.

“Of course, it’s something I want.”

“That’s all I need.”

Wanda smiled sadly but grasped his face with both hands and kissed him hard. “You’ll have to run with me,” she kissed him again, “you’d be undermining the Accords, Stark.”

“It is all inconsequential,” he murmured, knowing that wasn’t realistically true, only that it was how he felt. “Next to you, none of it matters.”

“You’re crazy,” Wanda said breathlessly against his mouth, “we’re both crazy.”

“A witch and a synthezoid, stranger things have happened.”

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Forget Me Not (10/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex and cheating

A/N: It’s shorter than usual but it sets up the next chapter 👀

Also, huuuuuge thanks to @ficsnroses​ for reading this over as well as being super supportive when I was having a mini meltdown while writing this :)) !!  

Anyways, hope you all enjoy!

Part 9

Eyes fluttering open and adjusting to the blinding daylight, Keanu almost didn’t recognize the white ceiling above. Gaze fixed on the crown molding, there was a small, yet discernable patch of grey in one corner, a soreness to his eyes. A light chuckle then escaped him, remembering when he repainted the room a year ago and had accidentally left the mark up there. He had promised to fix it, several times actually, but life got so hectic that he eventually forgot, and it was left neglected to this day.

Surrounded by the dark blue duvet he’d received as part of a house-warming gift years ago, the last time Keanu slept on this heavenly cloud of a mattress was the night you came home from the hospital. He’d gotten quite used to the smaller bed in the guest room, and waking up in this one was nearly unfamiliar to him. Shifting slightly, he stopped abruptly when he heard a soft moan to his left, feeling the warmth of another body pressed against him moving before the sheets settled again.

Turning to lie on his back, a sigh fell from Keanu’s lips at the sight of you curled up and facing the other wall. You were still in deep-sleep with one hand under your cheek, your hair spilled over the pillow, and your bare skin set aglow by the midday sun. The blankets barely covered your nude body from his eyes, and even after five years, it never failed to take his breath away.

You were beautiful, simply stunning, and utterly mesmerizing. Only a fool would choose to glance the other way when it came to you.

Mind drifting back to the night prior, the corners of Keanu’s mouth curled upwards into a soft smile. He thought about the tender way the two of you made love for hours, only falling asleep when dawn finally crept up, painting the skies outside a rosy hue. It was sweet and gentle, and Keanu hoped it was special for you, knowing it would be your first time with him. Though it had been an impulsive decision on his part, his heart swelled at the image of you experiencing pure bliss, something he had painfully longed to see again after months without doing so.

Waking up next to you felt like a dream to him, a place of endless peace and tranquility, one where the weight of his faults amounted next to nothing. For a moment, Keanu wished that it could stay this way; no guilt, secrets, and lies. Just you and him, home in your own perfect haven where the ugly past neither mattered nor existed. If he could, he would stay wrapped up in your arms forever, relishing the warmth and love he once took for granted.

But Molly’s ultimatum reminded Keanu that his world would soon fall apart. She had given him seven days to tell you the truth. Well, six now after he lost his chance last night. Even though that was generous of her, it wasn’t enough time for him to say goodbye. By this time next week, whether it be through Keanu or Molly, you would know of everything. Your heart had been broken too many times in past relationships, and he was sure that you would never forgive him for doing the same.

Keanu’s wandering thoughts ceased when you stirred awake beside him, letting out a yawn as you stretched out your limbs. Your eyes opened slowly, and after blinking a few times, you glanced at him with a tired yet bright and shining smile. Rolling onto your side, you rested your head on his bare chest, your fingers lightly skimming over the expanse, lazily drawing circles on his skin. His arm quickly came around your shoulders, pulling you close before gingerly kissing your temple then burying his nose into your hair.

“Good morning,” you mumbled softly, looking up at Keanu with your sparkling eyes.

“It’s the afternoon, baby,” he spoke, his voice thick with sleep yet filled with affection. “We slept through half the day already.”

“Well, we did have a very late night. It’s pretty understandable, don’t you think?” You giggled sweetly, nuzzling deeper into Keanu’s side. “So, about last night…”

He saw you bite your bottom lip, your gaze falling as if you’re pondering what to say next. A breath hitched in his throat as he silently studied your features. Keanu has never had someone so precious encased in his arms. Even with your hair mussed and eyes bleary, he still adored your natural state of beauty greatly.

“What about last night?” He questioned, genuinely curious.

A smile broke through your lips as you glanced back up at him. “It was perfect. I don’t know what else to say other than it was perfect. You are perfect.”

“I’m glad that you think so,” Keanu simply returned, slightly chuckling at the end as he craned his neck down to kiss you. “You’re perfect, too. So beautiful, and you feel so good.”

He couldn’t help himself. Keanu softly nudged you to lie back while he hovered above you, kissing a path down the column of your neck. He released a small groan when your nimble fingers tangled tightly in his dark hair, tugging them gently as your body arched upwards. You were craving more, and Keanu was willing to give you his all, realizing this would be one of the final instances that he could.

For a brief second, you stared deeply into his eyes, and that’s when he noticed the tears shimmering in them.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, purely concerned as he watched you quickly wipe away the wetness.

“Nothing,” you brushed off, your words coming out as a broken whisper. Keanu looked at you solemnly, placing his hand on one side of your face and stroking your cheekbone delicately with his thumb.

He hated seeing you cry.

“Y/N…”

“I’m not crying because I’m sad,” you finally reveal with a shake of your head and a tender smile. “I’m crying because this is everything that I’ve wanted. After Eric, I really believed that I would never find someone who loves me the way you do. I didn’t even think I could ever trust another person with my heart again, but then you came into my life.”

Keanu remained quiet, his body still on top of yours, but he held his weight with his elbows. His curtain of hair hid the sorrow and pain in his eyes until you reached up, brushing back the locks away from his face. He knew all about Eric and the emotional harm he had done to you, especially during the last few months of your relationship. He swore he would never hurt you the way Eric had, but he did.

“When I caught him with that woman the first time, it made me feel like I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough, or smart enough. I wasn’t enough for him that he strayed away, and found somebody else better than me. And for a while, I thought it was my fault. I loved him too much to let him go, even though I was blaming myself for things that I shouldn’t have had.”

“You’re more than enough, darling,” Keanu intoned softly, intertwining his hand with yours and giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. “He didn’t deserve you.”

Neither did he.

“I realize that later on when I left, but the pain didn’t disappear until you showed up,” you added, sighing. “It’s only been months since I’ve known you Ke, or at least, that’s how it seems like because of the amnesia. But you make me feel like I’m everything. You make me feel so loved and so beautiful…”

Gently, you pushed Keanu to lie down before swinging one leg over to straddle his hips. He started to notice the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a wave of regret washing over him after hearing your words. You trusted him, loved him, saw him as the man you dreamed and longed for when in reality, he’s not.

Not anymore.

“If I end up not gaining my memories back,” you murmured as your mouth ghosted over his jaw, teasingly, “I’ll be content with the ones I already have with you.”

This time, it was Keanu trying to fight back his own tears. He’d deeply miss these intimate moments shared only between the two of you. He’d miss the softness of your lips and the warmth of your breath against his skin. He’d miss the sound of your voice, the way your laugh instantly brightens up the room and how your breathless moans made him feel desirable. He’d miss every curve of your body and every perfect imperfection on your skin. He’d miss hearing his name slip through your lips as you cry out in pleasure with him holding you close.

The end was drawing near, and nothing would ever prepare him enough for that moment. Six more days, and it’s over.

He would then miss it all.

---

“Y/N? Hello?”

You jolted slightly in your seat, seeing Molly waving her hand in front of your face to grab your attention. In the midst of your weekend brunch, you had gotten lost in your thoughts that were mainly of Keanu. Truth be told, you were lovestruck by him, even more so after the night you finally made love. Memories of it often flooded your mind, reminding you of how caring and attentive Keanu was, and how amazing it all felt being with him.

You never knew love could feel like this.

“Sorry,” you spoke once you snapped out of your daydreaming, which has lately become a regular occurrence. “What were you saying?”

Molly chuckled, shaking her head. “I was asking how work was going.”

“It’s going great, actually,” you beamed excitedly. “We’re prepping for that big fashion shoot in Japan next month. I’m still nervous about going, but it’s one of those opportunities that I’d be crazy to pass up.”

“Well, you should definitely go. Not only is it a great addition to your portfolio, it’ll also be a nice sightseeing trip, too,” Molly encouraged. “I’ve been to Japan a couple of times for work and let me tell you, it’s absolutely gorgeous there. From the culture to the food, I wish I could go back and experience it all over again.”

“I was actually thinking of asking Keanu if he wanted to go with me,” you shared, a soft smile appearing on your face. “I figured it’d be a fun trip for the two of us and escape LA for a little while. As far as I know, he doesn’t have anything important scheduled during that time. Plus, he’s going to be busy doing a movie next year, and we want to spend as much time together before that happens.”

Molly’s grin fell, her mouth pulling into a tight line. “I mean, it’s up to you if you want to invite him or not.”

Your brows furrowed at the strange shift in her demeanor. “Yeah, I’ll talk to Ke when I get home later.”

“How is he, though?” Molly inquired. You noticed very recently how tense she got every time you mentioned Keanu, and at this point, it was becoming worrisome. Did she know something that you didn’t?

“He’s good. Honestly, he’s doing great—we’re doing great.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Y/N. Truly.”

You reached for the glass of water on the table, taking a few quick sips before sighing. “I told Ke I love him.”

Molly’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly, and you heard a short gasp. “You did?”

“Yes,” you confirmed with a single nod. “I told him the night of his birthday, and… and we slept together.”

“Oh,” she could only say, her shoulders dropping, and her blue eyes flickering away from your gaze. “T-That’s… wow. I-I can’t believe he did that.”

“What do you mean?” You probed, cocking your head to the side.

Molly glanced back up at you, her muscles rigid, and the taut expression on her face bringing you concern. “He’s never going to tell you. He can’t let you go.”

Her voice was low and alarming, and you almost didn’t catch it. “Tell me what?”

A sense of dread began to spread as you waited for an answer. Molly swallowed thickly, the air in the small cafe you were seated in felt heavy, and it made you uncomfortable. You didn’t want to think of the worse. In fact, you didn’t want to believe that what she had to say could be bad. You had shared the last piece of yourself to Keanu, but with the way your friend was acting, you started doubting your decision.

“Molly, what is it?!”

Salty tears began to prick your eyes the longer you sat there, not knowing. Your heart thumped heavily against your chest as panic continued to gnaw at your guts while your mind did its best to keep you calm.

Keanu was a good person; he could do no wrong. He loved you. He could never hurt you.

But what if he did? What if he did more than what he told you?

“Y/N,” Molly sighed, her hands reaching across the table to hold your clammy ones. “I’m sorry that I have to tell you this, but after what you’ve done, I don’t think Keanu is ever going to come clean.”

“What did he do?” You questioned, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces. “Please, Molly. Just say it.”

“Keanu’s not the man you think he is...” she stated carefully, scared of your reaction.

The following words coming out of Molly were unbelievable at first. You didn’t want to accept that there was any truth in them. It didn’t seem right that Keanu was capable of doing such a thing, but even though she couldn’t explain in detail what had happened, deep down, you could feel it.

Memories of the timeline before the accident didn’t come back to you, but you remembered something else from the night that changed everything...

Red-hot, searing anger.

---

Dark clouds began to fill up the entire sky above LA as the city braced for another storm. Keanu peered through the drapes to see small water droplets falling from above. The rain wasn’t heavy yet, though it still worried him while knowing you could be driving somewhere out there. He had called you just recently and asked if he could pick you up, only to learn that you were already on your way home.

It was Saturday, and usually, the two of you would go out on a date, but because of the poor weather, you decided to have a quiet evening indoors. Keanu had planned to surprise you with a movie night, one of your favorite things to do with him. The tv was already set-up, and the buttered popcorn was cooling off back in the kitchen. All he was waiting for now was you, and you’d be here any minute soon.

Taking a seat on the couch, Keanu then let a deep breath out as he checked the time on his watch, the roaring sound of thunder suddenly disrupting the silence. He could hear the rain starting to pick up, and through the parted curtains, he noticed the trees swaying wildly from the strong winds blowing outside of the house. The scene out there was unsettling, and he could only hope that you make it back safe and sound.

Moments later, the keys jingling outside of the nearby door alerted Keanu of your presence, and he quickly got up from the sofa and unlocked the door for you. Swinging it open, he welcomed you with a relieved smile breaking over his face, which disappeared in a split-second after seeing how you glowered at him.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted light-heartedly, though your expression remained. “I’m happy you got home—”

“Don’t,” you sternly interjected, raising your pointer finger in front of him. “Don’t you dare.”

Keanu watched in trepidation when you pushed passed him and stalked into the house, the rain dripping from your wet clothes pooling at your feet as you lingered in the foyer.

“I-Is everything okay?” He stuttered out, though he already had a feeling of what this could all be.

But how did you find out?

Molly.

“No,” you muttered bitterly. “You know damn well that everything’s not okay.”

“I don’t understand,” Keanu lied, once again feigning ignorance even though there was no point in doing so anymore. “Sweetheart, let’s get you dried off first. You’re shivering, you’re going to catch a cold.”

“Stop it, Keanu. Just drop the act!”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, letting the tears fall freely down from your eyes. Keanu cautiously approached you, his fear finally unfolding in front of him, and there was no way around it this time.

“Y/N, I need you to calm down…”

“No,” you shot back angrily. “I need you to tell me everything, Keanu. What exactly happened between us?”

Keanu froze, his chest tightening at your simple yet difficult request. He wasn’t ready to do it today, but he had no other choice.

There was no more avoiding, no more lying, and no more hiding.

This was it.

This was the end.

This was the goodbye Keanu dreaded. The long, dreaded goodbye to the woman he loved.

Part 11

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness​ @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @ficsnroses​ @iworshipkeanureeves​ @keandrews​ @greenmanalishi​ @feminine-machinegun​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @lussdew​ @rdjloverxxx​ @flaminasteroid​ @danceoftwowolves​ @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea​ @allie1804-fan

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 83: The Egg and the Eye

They really should have enjoyed those other landings while they hand the chance, as every one of them groaned in painful misery upon impact in the most uncomfortable way possible across hard, cold tile floors. Peter got the worst of it, he landed with an echoing bang upon copper pipes that left the walls themselves vibrating as he finally came to a stop face down in the bathtub beneath.

"Everyone still alive?" James called miserably, rubbing at his head and staring blearily around, but his vision wasn't coming back into focus.

"More or less," Sirius answered as he began looking around for Prongs' glasses.

Remus peeked over the edge to see Peter curling onto his side now, whimpering in pain, several fresh bruises likely to come of it. He hopped down and offered him a comforting pat on the shoulder while performing a minor healing charm to at least help take the edge off the worst of the pain, allowing him to sit upright at least.

Lily had gotten it the easiest, landing on the wooden towel rack and knocking the whole thing over, now tangled up in them. Frank went over to help get her out, while Alice got uneasily to her feet, holding the golden egg curiously.

"Where are we?" Lily demanded as she finally pulled the last, thankfully dry and clean, towel from off her head while Frank tugged the fluffy white one free where it had tangled her legs.

"Prefects bathroom," the lone Prefect of their group answered as he pulled his friend out of, what the others now realized, was indeed a swimming pool sized bathtub.

She looked around with admiration at the grandeur of every gleaming tile, the picture of a mermaid more reminiscent of her youth than any textbook she'd found in this castle, and the diving board as she grudgingly made her way to Potter and handed him his glasses she'd somehow acquired in her mess.

He set them back in place and she immediately regretted her moment of kindness as he beckoned her to follow. "Come here Evans, you're going to love this."

"Last time we ended up in a bathroom it wasn't exactly pleasant," she grumbled as she watched him regardless, bolting right past everyone to the available taps each with a different jewel inset, and turning two on at once.

She, Alice, and Frank edged forward to see one pipe shooting out rainbow glitter, the other had lavender scented, flower shaped bubbles dripping down. Lily knelt and stuck her hand in curiously, to find it the perfect temperature.

"This thing's a damned miracle worker if you need to relax, I've spent ages in here this year before a Quidditch game thanks to Moony sharing the password. Really helps relax the muscles," he said with an open grin at her, she was pretty sure he wasn't even imagining her in the tub yet.

"I'll bet even Snivellus would take a bath in this," Sirius Black muttered from behind his best mate, who laughed in surprise. Lily scowled hatefully and stalked away. James watched her go with an unrepentant smile, he'd never grow tired of her tenacity.

"Passwords Pine Fresh, it never changes," he called to her retreating form.

"You ever think you're taking the wrong approach there," Alice was frowning at the pair of idiots, Potter didn't even seem to realize he'd done anything wrong.

"When I want your advice, I'll ask for it," he said in all cheerfulness.

Frank scowled at the idiot, took Alice's hand, and led her away without argument, joining Lily near the door now, the three of them inspecting the egg with curiosity and discussing if Harry would actually work out the clue in this place like Cedric Diggory had suggested.

James watched the three with longing, he'd love to go over there, take Lily's hand so casually, just shoot the breeze and talk amongst her and her friends all day. He was genuinely happy for her she finally had decent people to talk to, she'd never given herself the chance always hanging around Snivellus, and he hoped it stayed that way. From what he'd known of Smith and Longbottom before all this they were decent people, always stayed on the fringe of classes, but for two purebloods they certainly never got involved in the nastier students he did know of their houses.

He knew if he tried now she'd spurn him again, he really shouldn't have laughed at Sirius' joke and he knew that, but didn't she get that's what it was? A joke? If Padfoot had said the same about Regulus or even himself James would have laughed. She was always so diligent about everything in her life, it was one of the many aspects of why he loved to watch her. The way she always thought through a question so long before answering, she often missed her opportunity in class, she studiously stuck to what she was doing despite his best attempts, be it hanging around a waste of space like Snape or her homework, he only wanted to give her a bit of fun in her life she really needed. She'd get that eventually.

James turned back to see Regulus was trying to pick a fight with Sirius, again. There was another lad who needed more fun in his life, as well as that stick removed from his arse.

"You really don't have anything else to say to him?" Regulus demanded.

"What's there to say?" Sirius forced casualness in his voice without looking up, clearly intent on looking for his favorite tap that would give the foam the consistency of a snowball. "He'd say he could never do it, again, we believe him, I guess, and we move on." His hand was trembling so hard by the end he didn't seem to know which way he was trying to twist the tap anymore, but it wasn't moving regardless. "Guess we'll all find out what's what eventually, yeah?"

Peter and Regulus exchanged an uneasy look. It wasn't a solution as far as they were concerned, Sirius had managed to avoid the question, but it was...progress?

James clucked his tongue and jumped in to stop anything else happening, so long as they were all stuck together he would not rest until he got some enjoyment. "Tell me you lot aren't actually going to spend the entire time we're in here, of all places, talking!"

Then he shucked out of his clothes in record time once more, boxers alone covering him as he dived head long into the water. Sirius grinned and quickly mimicked him, with a cannon ball off the diving board splashing the mermaids painting. The two caused water to immediately start sloshing over the edges as they began a rowdy game of tag.

Peter did not feel like joining them, but he dutifully sat on the edge of the pool next to Remus, who was smiling and laughing at their antics and egging them on. He summoned the book to him, which bizarrely came shooting out of one of the pipes that had yet been turned on, and flipped it open before looking around and seeing Regulus hovering uneasily. He beckoned him over and smiled when he did with only a bit of hesitation. None of them felt up to talking anymore it seemed, and if asked they would have blamed it on how close they hopefully were to discovering Harry's egg clue.

"The Egg and the Eye? What's an eye got to do with this?" Lily shivered in disgust at the idea, wondering for a wild moment if the egg was going to somehow get Harry put in the hospital wing for hurting his eye or something.

"Maybe Moody makes another grand appearance," Frank offered, "helps him out again."

Lily nodded this made sense, admittedly more distracted than she would have liked to admit as she eyed Potter and Black in the pool. It seemed for every step she took to actually try and be civil to him, more in pity than anything for this mess so thoroughly and repeatedly having an affect on him, he took seven back. Reverting back to the same loathsome toerag at the first chance, would the idiot never learn his lesson?

She listened intently as Harry made his way here, enjoyed himself for a few moments with the pool as well, and then nearly had heart failure when Moaning Myrtle appeared. Her popping eyes stayed on the Marauders, none of whom batted an eye at this development. Only little Regulus Black was spluttering in surprise, and he got a mouth full of soapy water from his brother for that before he could say anything.

"Well, this bathroom just lost a bit of appeal," Alice shivered in revulsion as she hugged herself for a moment at the idea of a ghost peeping in on her.

"It's never occurred to me they can just appear in the bathrooms, of anywhere in here," Frank agreed with a grimace. Lily looked around hopefully, and spotted Harry's copy of the Marauders Map. It must have been, as it was several years older than the one she'd seen in said Marauders possession inside Honeydukes, which was currently still in one of their pockets. This one had aged parchment, was crinkled, and dogeared. Yet the enchantment to activate it still worked just as well, and she scanned it carefully now for their place, finally spotting their eight little dots, but not another soul except Mrs. Norris several floors down.

She showed the other two, who only looked slightly less queasy, as that didn't change how often it likely still did happen.

Harry's unendearing encounter with her was almost worth it though, as she helped him work out his clue, and they all listened open mouthed at the mermaid song.

"Damn, that's brilliant," Frank was smiling now at the prospect of hearing this in person but still eyeing the water, and the two rowdy boys in it, without much hope.

James and Sirius had been listening, and were quite pleased at this new development, but now that it had come to pass what Harry would be dealing with, they refused to let it sink down their groups spirits as much as it was Harry's. Yeah, how would he breath underwater for an hour? It was a valid question, and one they could deal with later. For now James heaved himself out of the pool and went padding over to them, but they'd clearly been so distracted they didn't realize any such thing until he said right beside them, "are you really not going to get in?"

Smith dropped the egg in surprise, it did indeed clatter around before opening with a painfully loud racket before he went chasing after it to close it. The three were left with more aggrieved looks than ever on him, so he shrugged and said, "have it your way." Prize now in hand, he jogged back and did a flip into the water.

Sirius waited for no such thing as permission, he'd taken the eggs noisy distraction to swim over to Remus, grab his legs, and jerk him in. He came up trying to splutter curses through the soapy water and swatting at him to Sirius' unrepentant smile. "Now if only we were the only two in here," he whispered into his ear, reaching through the water to squeeze the inside of his thigh before taking off again.

Remus swallowed another mouthful and was now grateful nobody could see below his waist, and the water really was rather warm, that's why his skin was suddenly so flush.

"Well then you two, are you going to have a listen?" James called, pushing his hair out of his face to eye Peter and Regulus, but both had been reexamining the mermaids song and barely looked up long enough to shake their heads they didn't want to get in. "How on Earth did we get saddled into this mess with such boring wankers?" He demanded of Sirius.

"Beats me Prongs," Sirius nodded, before taking a breath and ducking under the water. James quickly followed, and Remus rolled his eyes before acquitting.

By the time they came up, Harry was stuck in the trick stair and witness to the strangest of nighttime scenes even they'd never been privy to.

Lily watched as Potter laughed himself silly at his sons misfortune, then rolled onto his back and began floating peacefully in the water like he could take a nap to the sound of this mess. It infuriated her to no end, Harry could get into so much trouble if he was caught now, did he really not care at all? She reflected back if she'd just seen this back before this mess started she would have thought him the most uncaring heartless person there was, but she knew better now. That was him fidgeting, not just kicking his legs around in the water at the idea of Harry getting caught. He kept dumping his head back into the water and then sitting up and ruffling his hair into messy spikes rather than show his concern why Barty Crouch was so weirdly involved in something to do with Severus' office.

It wasn't as if he was afraid to show any other emotion, like brash carelessness or obnoxiousness, why then did he feel the need to smother such things?

Regulus watched over Peter's shoulder as Moody saved Harry yet again from getting caught by Snape and fixing this mess for him, he couldn't blame the auoror's intensity over the map either when he got his hand on it. While Sirius and his two friends continued splashing each other wildly, with no hope of hearing the warning the chapter was almost over, he reached over and grabbed the two idiots clothes and held them firmly against his chest. He wouldn't wish that mess upon anyone.

[pynches]

almost is never enough

aka the 5 times ronan and adam almost kissed but were interrupted and the 1 time they finally got their shit together and went for it

for @neontetraskill who requested “a hoarse whisper “kiss me”then licks their lips and says “please” from the kissing prompt list

word count: 3500 (satisfying right?)

1.

It had been a long time coming and it started with Ronan. Catching feelings for Adam Parrish came as easy as breathing, but dealing with those feelings often grabbed him by the throat and squeezed until he was choking. He had denied himself the possibility of getting together with Adam until it became unbearable, drowning him together with the other sorrows in his life that he never learned to come to terms with. All hope seemed lost when Adam got together with Blue and then they broke up and Ronan finally believed he had a chance. But Adam never saw him the way he saw Adam and the rejection hit him harder than he dared to admit. By the time Adam started looking back, Ronan had already given up.

But then it continued with Adam. Because Adam was smart and he knew and he ignored it until there was no room for ignoring it anymore. Ronan had fallen for him and Adam had fallen right with him.

Adam wasn’t like Ronan. He wasn’t careful and shy, he wasn’t painfully selfless. No, Adam went after what he wanted even if there was a chance of rejection. Not because he thought that he deserved Ronan in the least, but he was a selfish creature and he wanted Ronan.

Their first kiss should have happened then, in Ronan’s BMW, parked in front of St. Agnes, with neither of them willing to get out. It should have happened when Adam turned to look at Ronan and, for the first time, Ronan looked back without averting his eyes. It should have happened when Adam decided to inch closer, letting his breath hit Ronan’s lips. It should have happened with Ronan’s hand tangled in his shirt like he had now, his eyes closing as he sent a quick thank you to God.

Their first kiss should have happened like that, but it didn’t.

The smell of Cabeswater interrupted them, hitting Adam with a force that made him reel back. There were whispers in his deaf ear again, urging him to come to the forest and do his job as its Magician.

Ronan’s face was closed off when Adam turned to him, his jaw clenched.

“It’s Cabeswater,” Adam tried. Ronan just nodded and pulled out, turning the car back to the forest they had just come from.

Adam leaned his head back against the window, trying to catch Ronan’s eyes but he held them firmly on the road before them. Adam turned away from him and pretended to sleep, trying not to think of the possibility that this could have been the only shot he had at kissing Ronan.

2.

Adam thought he could have a second chance that same night. They had returned from Cabeswater and were both bone-tired, to the point that Adam forgot about the awkwardness of missed opportunities for long enough that he offered Ronan a place next to his bumpy mattress. Ronan took it without many words, placing his leather jacket underneath his head like he had done so many times before. There was such familiarity in the action that Adam dared to hope they could go back to before they ruined everything that had been building up between them.

Adam went to the bathroom to wash the dirt from Cabeswater off of him, hoping he would feel like himself again once he was done. By the time he came back, Ronan had his headphones over his ears and eyes closed. Adam could see he was not sleeping but Ronan was very clear in his implications.

There was no room for explanations, not tonight at least.

Adam tried to pretend he couldn’t physically feel his heart bleed from Ronan’s clear dismissal. He was a proud being and letting Ronan inside of the walls he had built up for himself was hard enough but now that Ronan had wrecked everything he had held so close, there was no universe in which he was the one to apologise, to vent off the awkwardness stifling the room.

He turned around so he didn’t have to see Ronan, closed his eyes, and pretended that his eyes were watering for a different reason.

The sniffles he let out were quiet, hidden, though, of course, Ronan managed to notice them anyway. There was something terrifying about Adam trying to hide the most vulnerable parts of himself and someone else seeing them without having to try.

He had his good ear pressed against his pillow, not hearing when Ronan got up so when Ronan leaned over him and pressed a tentative hand to his shoulder, Adam jumped, curling in on himself instinctively.

“Shit,” he heard muffled through the fabric of his flat pillow. Adam quickly wiped his eyes and turned to Ronan who staring at him wide-eyed.

“I would never-“ Ronan started, being interrupted by a quick, “I know.”

They were silent for a moment, Ronan in what could only be described as simmering rage slowly bubbling to the surface and Adam basking the awkwardness of his instinctual actions.

“Why were you crying?” Ronan asked, sounding too gentle for Adam’s liking. He was an expert in biting words and balled fists but he hadn’t learned how to handle gentleness yet, especially when coming from the last person you’d expect to have this underlying core of pure love inside of him.

“You know why,” Adam snapped back, his eyes trailing the bare wails, the cracked ceiling, anything to avoid Ronan’s questioning eyes.

Ronan sighed and caught his chin, his touch light and non-threatening. “Talk to me.”

“Bold request, Lynch,” Adam said, his voice cold and hard. “You were the one that avoided me.”

“I didn’t know… Shit, Parrish, I thought you regretted it ever happening.”

Adam twisted his hands together unconsciously, mirroring Ronan tugging at his bracelets. “Nothing has happened yet.”

Ronan stared at him a little too long for his liking, his eyes piercing right through him until it felt like Ronan was looking into his soul, not disliking what he saw.

Ronan was getting closer, his breath hot against Adam’s mouth. He leaned in and closed his eyes, waiting for Ronan to light him on fire.

Something big flew against his window, ripping them apart immediately. Ronan took a protective stance in front of Adam but he pushed him away so he could see what had ruined yet another chance of finally getting the kiss he craved.

Chainsaw was croaking indignantly at the closed window, rapping against it with her claws until Ronan sighed and opened the window for her.

She flew straight at Adam but he was prepared. He carried her more on his shoulders than Ronan these days.

Chainsaw nipped at his fingers playfully and he couldn’t help but smile at her, ruffling her feathers lightly.

Still, he was disappointed and impatient and he wanted Ronan to kiss him as he had imagined it. But Ronan’s face was closed off again, unreadable, even for Adam who had become quite good at guessing what Ronan was feeling.

Adam went to bed that night hungry for something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

3.

Adam found himself in Monmouth more often when Gansey was not there. He would never completely feel at home in Monmouth, too much of the other boys were ingrained in the walls of the establishment but the quiet days, when Gansey was secretly running off with Blue and Noah had disappeared to a place not reachable for them, Adam could almost pretend he belonged there too.

He and Ronan had tentatively gotten back to being friends, the previous almost-kisses pushed to the back of their minds as much as it would let them.

They were in the living room, Ronan’s expensive laptop propped up the coffee-table, probably wrinkling some important notes of Gansey’s but neither boy cared at that moment.

The couch they were sat on was big enough that they didn’t have to sit close to one another, so they didn’t, something Adam craved more than anything. He had long stopped watching the movie Ronan had picked out and instead took this moment to think of a plan to somehow fix what he had unintentionally broken.

“You’re not even watching, are you?” Ronan asked suddenly, making Adam jump in his seat.

Adam smiled guiltily but didn’t answer. He couldn’t come out and say ‘no, sorry, I was too busy thinking about how I wanted to hold your hand and sit close enough next to you to smell you’ so he turned his focus back to the screen, trying to ignore how Ronan was still watching him from the corner of his eyes.

“We can put something else on,” Ronan opted, the air surrounding them awkward and tense.

Adam shook his head, his eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Ronan said, jumping up from the couch. “If you don’t want to be here, Parrish, then leave.”

“I do want to be here,” Adam shot back, sliding off the couch himself. He stood in front of Ronan, poking a finger in his chest. “But I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to act around you.”

“Well, not like this,” Ronan said sarcastically, his arms crossing in front of him.

Adam sighed and felt the anger drain out of his body. He was tired of messing up, breaking everything he got close to. All he wanted was to be back in that precious moment before everything had gone to shit, when he was so close to Ronan he could count his eyelashes, and smell the scent of expensive cologne. When Cabeswater hadn’t interrupted an opportunity he had longed for since he realised his feelings for Ronan.

“I should just go,” Adam said quietly, turning around to grab his backpack before a hand stopped him.

“No, you should just stay here and talk to me.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, promptly ignoring the heat of Ronan’s skin on his own. “We’re not the best talkers.”

“Yeah, well, maybe we should finally learn.”

And so they did.

They sat back on the couch, staring at each other uncertainly before Ronan took it upon himself to start.

“I guess I don’t hate you,” he said, looking at his hands.

“Wow,” Adam laughed. “Thanks.”

Ronan cursed and wiped a hand down his face. He took a breath, looked right into Adam’s eyes and said, “I like you.”

“I like you too,” Adam admitted immediately.

Ronan sighed and got up from the couch, pacing in front of it. Adam followed him with his eyes.

“No, you don’t get it,” Ronan said, his voice strung tight. “I like you.”

Adam got up from the couch himself and stopped Ronan’s frantic pacing with two hands on Ronan’s arms. He looked at him earnestly and smiled a little, “I like you too.”

“Oh,” Ronan let out in a quiet huff. “Okay.”

This time it was Adam who took the leap, leaning in so Ronan could see his clear intent.

They were close, so very close to finally letting their lips touch and getting lost in the taste of each other.

The door to the living room smashed open and Gansey came stumbling in, his arms full of Amazon packages that were undoubtedly filled with ‘rare’ books he had decided would help them on their quest to finding Glendower.

“Ronan, call Adam, I found something about the leylines-“ Gansey finally looked at the pair that had sprung apart at the sound of the door, cheeks flushed and fidgeting as they stood a little too far apart to make sense. “Oh, hi Adam.”

“Hi, Gansey.” Adam gave an awkward short wave in his direction. “I should go.”

“But the leyline-“

“Can be saved for another time,” Adam said, already having gathered his backpack, he walked ‘calmly’ to the door and practically ran once the door fell closed behind him, leaving a confused Gansey and a slightly hurt Ronan behind.

4.

If Noah could die again, it would be at Adam’s hands.

Since Adam and Ronan had confessed their feelings they were seeking out opportunities to finally do something about it. But there were always other things to do; exams, Glendower, meetings at Nino’s that were non-negotiable.

Today, though, there was a morning assembly and a small window of time for them to finally be alone together. They had stayed on the outer edges of the auditorium, waited ten minutes, then snuck away, claiming Ronan had a headache to a worried Gansey. They narrowly avoided Gansey trying to tag along and ran into an alcove.

Ronan’s back was against the wall, his lips pulled into a sharp grin. Adam was stalking forward, getting closer to Ronan until their torsos were touching.

Their faces inched forwards, their eyes closing, Adam had one hand on Ronan’s jaw to guide him to his lips. Their lips touched for a split second before a figure suddenly appeared next to them, singing loudly.

“Adam and Ronan were sitting in a tree-“

Ronan took Adam’s backpack from where it had fallen on the floor and threw it at Noah’s face.

Unfortunately, it went right through him.

“That’s not nice,” Noah pouted, turning around to stare dejectedly at the backpack.

“Oh, that’s not nice?” Ronan said, baring his teeth menacingly. “That’s not nice?!”

Adam stepped back with practised ease as Ronan ran after Noah who flickered in the bright light of the superficial lighting of the school and let out a joyous laugh that sounded more like an echo of what had once been.

After a few seconds, he could hear a loud scream and something heavy tumbling down the stairs. Adam waited patiently until Ronan returned with a self-satisfied smile.

“I threw him down the stairs,” Ronan said proudly.

Adam laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I figured.”

“Now, where were we?” Ronan asked, looping his fingers around Adam’s belt loops and pulled him closer. The bell rang before Adam could answer and Ronan let out a groan.

“I know,” Adam said, patting Ronan on the shoulder.

Adam was unable to focus the remaining hours of the day, constantly thinking of how close they had been, how Ronan’s eyes had fluttered closed, how Adam had felt a pull in his stomach he never felt before.

5.

Adam was putting his books back into his locker, Ronan leaning against the ones next to him, suddenly asking him if he wanted to come to The Barns after school.

“I thought we were supposed to meet with Gansey?”

Ronan grinned. “I still have a headache, remember?”

Adam shrugged, “Sure.”

He tried to play it cool, not letting his excitement at the prospect of having Ronan alone again show. Ronan nodded back and that was that.

Before he knew it they were in Ronan’s BMW, close to one of the places Adam felt most calm. There was something peaceful about The Barns, with its dream creatures roaming around the almost unnaturally bright green grass.

It became quite clear Ronan didn’t have anything planned for their afternoon at the Barns, looking lost in his own home.

“You hungry?” Ronan eventually asked, but the tension was already palpable, Adam could feel it linger on his skin.

“I could eat,” he answered, following Ronan to the kitchen that was designed like it came right out of a feel-good movie.

Ronan took out some supplies while Adam lingered in the door-opening.

“Are you gonna help me or what?” Ronan asked over his shoulder.

Adam made his way to the countertop, taking in the many, many ingredients Ronan had accumulated. “We’re not feeding a small army, Lynch.”

“It’s for pancakes, dipshit.”

And then they got to work.

This entire mess started by Ronan being an idiot and flicking some flour in Adam’s hair, laughing hard as he did. Adam stood frozen for exactly one second before he grabbed the bag of flour, stuck his hand inside of it, and threw the handful of white powder right in Ronan’s face.

His shell-shocked facial expression was enough for Adam to double over in laughter.

“It’s on, Parrish,” Ronan said menacingly, moving forwards slowly, eggs in hand.

Adam stepped back, trapped against the counter. “Don’t you dare.”

Ronan rose one scarred eyebrow and threw the eggs with a surprising accuracy but Adam ducked just in time, grabbing the milk as he went down. He managed to get up before Ronan had the time to grab something else and threw it over his Aglionby uniform, making the white shirt cling to his skin.

Adam was too distracted by the sight to realise Ronan had taken the flour bag back. It was dumped on his head within seconds and Adam spluttered indignantly. He wiped the powder out of his eyes and charged at Ronan who ran away laughing.

They grabbed everything they could, taking every chance to touch each other. Until they came to a standstill, Adam pressed against the counter and Ronan pressed against him.

Ronan was close enough that Adam had to tilt his face a little to make up for the slight height difference. There was mirth in Ronan’s eyes and Adam suddenly forgot that there was a battle going on in the first place.

Ronan’s hand went to his waist tentatively, touching him like he was afraid Adam would run away. Instead, Adam lifted himself on the counter, urging Ronan to come closer. Ronan stepped between his legs, his hands placed on the counter besides Adam’s thighs. Adam wound his arms around Ronan’s neck and pulled him closer.

Their lips were so close to touching, Adam could feel his tingle. His stomach knotted with anticipation.

He closed his eyes.

“Hey, whatsup everybody, Matthew here! I just wanted to pop in and quickly show you my brother, Ronan. He’s finally getting some after months of pining! Leave a like if you’re proud of him.”

“MATTHEW.”

“Whoops, sorry guys, he’s not too happy about it. And now he’s chasing me-“

“I’m going to fucking-“

“Subscribe to me in case I make it out alive and hit that bell button to know exactly when I’ve uploaded something! Let’s help me get to 2 million before my birthday-“

“YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE-“

“Bye guys, see you in the next one!”

+1

Adam was thrumming with restless energy.

It had been days since the Barns and Adam was feeling rather hopeless. For a second he thought fate was trying to tell him something by constantly ripping him and Ronan apart.

Then he realised fate was bullshit. Fate wasn’t real.

Maybe it was to show the reality of relationships, of something that would eventually bloom to love. Maybe it was to make them realise that maintaining a relationship was going to be hard and take effort and time but that it meant more than relationships steered by fate, by the inevitability it would work out, by the opportunities that were given not taken.

Or maybe their friends were just a bunch of dickheads.

When Cabeswater whispered in his ear again, he practically yanked Ronan outside after class and told him to drive him there, leaving Gansey to stare after them with a shake of his head but a knowing smile on his face. Of course, Noah had told him and this allowed him to take the day off Glendower searching and focus solely on Blue.

For once Adam let Ronan play his godawful music, the hard bass matching the frantic beating of his heart.

Ronan turned his head a few times trying to catch Adam’s eyes but Adam couldn’t look at him, not when he was seconds away from just lunging at him and finally getting the kiss he had waited for.

They walked into Cabeswater, Adam feeling where the irregularities were and together they fixed Cabeswater up until the forest was thrumming happily again.

“So that’s it,” Ronan said, wiping his dirty hands on his uniform.

“Yeah…” Adam said softly, not taking his eyes off Ronan. His unnaturally blue eyes, the rumpled state of his clothes, the leather bracelets he was chewing on again.

“Fuck it.”

Adam had two hands fisted in Ronan’s shirt, pushing his against a nearby tree, careful enough to not hurt Ronan but hard enough to make Ronan let out a sound at the impact.

They stared at each other quietly. Seconds ticked by, the air growing tenser, Adam’s hands still holding fistfuls of Ronan’s shirt.

Finally, Ronan’s eyelashes fluttered.

“Kiss me,” he whispered hoarsely. Then he licked his lips, Adam’s eyes following the movement. “Please.”

Adam surged forward, not taking a chance at getting interrupted again. Their lips met frantically. They had both been on edge for too long.

Ronan’s arms were wrapped around Adam’s waist, pulling him closer until Adam was melting into him. Almost every inch of their bodies were touching. Adam felt like he was burning up but then Ronan bit his bottom lip playfully and he found himself not caring.

They slowed down eventually, sharing soft kisses and gentle touches, smiling into the kiss.

Fucking finally.

[pastthebutterflies]

Amantes Maledic

Fundamentally, human dances and witches’ balls sound the same: fine clothes, plentiful food, corny decorations, endless dancing. Amity has to admit, without the added risk of being cursed hanging over your shoulder, human dances almost sound like more fun. Almost. Or, Luz and Amity go to a dance and gay panic ensues. 

Read here or at https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159519 

The Hexside Enchanter’s Ball is the quadrennial highlight of any learning witch’s life.

Amity hadn’t been, not yet, no one at Hexside had, but her parents insisted it would be the best night of her young life.

The ball, fun fact, had been where her parents had met for the first time. Both being adept spell-casters with a twin knack for illusions, it was a wonder to half the student body that they hadn’t met stumbled upon each other sooner.

But her father, having been the night’s first victim of what was known as the Lovers’ Curse, had slipped off to the hall to sulk alone only to find her mother in a similar state soon after. The rest, as they say, is history.

(“The curse may be meant to break hearts,” her mother says one day, staring lovingly at her ring. “But I think it mended mine.”)

According to Luz, who, since joining Hexside’s ranks, had taken to skipping up beside her in the halls between classes, human schools held their own Enchanters balls- called dances , there- once, sometimes twice a semester. How they don’t lose their charm happening so often, Amity isn’t sure. A ball is a special night, meant for moments like her parents’, happening every few months, to her, they lose all meaning.

(“Then there’s this one called the Sadie Hawkins Dance, where the girls ask the guys out. I was never really sure where that left me, though…” Luz tells her one day as they walk to class. She’s not quite sure what a Sadie Hawkins is, but Luz seems into it so she tries to like it too.)

Fundamentally though, human dances and witches’ balls sound the same: fine clothes, plentiful food, corny decorations, endless dancing. Amity has to admit, without the added risk of being cursed hanging over your shoulder, human dances almost sound like more fun.

Almost.

So, a few days later, when Luz asks her to go as her date, Amity is a little less than surprised. Their relationship as it stands is rocky at times, but overall hardening into something stable, familiar.

They’ve kissed, once, in the heat of the moment after a particularly grueling rescue from the Warden’s prison on the edge of town. Neither of them had mentioned the moment and since then, Amity was nearly tempted to believe Luz had forgotten all about it.

That is, until a bundle of flowers fall out of her locker as she’s leaving.

The flowers, yellow human world orchids if she isn’t mistaken (she isn’t), are tied together using a loose ribbon with a small card attached. In Luz’s careful handwriting she reads:

Turn around? <3

When she does so, Luz is already waiting, having somehow snuck up behind her. She’s rocking on her heels, wearing a crooked grin with her fingers tangled together in front of her.

“I know the whole ‘being seen in public with me’ bit isn’t really your thing and that our relationship is kind of-” Luz makes a scattered up and down gesture with her hand that actually sums them up rather well, “but do you want to go? With me? To the dance, I mean.”

The entire speech comes out in a single, rushed breath that leaves Luz looking as if she had just run a mile. With every syllable, her eyes had gotten wider, until, by the end, there are two wide saucers where her eyes should be.

“Luz, I-”

Don’t trust her, she thinks. Luz had helped the twins that night in the library, this was all just another trick. But she stopped them, too. Not to mention helped her stop Otabin the Bookmaker from sealing them both inside his story with him forever. But the abomination trick- which she had apologized for.

Saying no would be so much easier, she thinks, then, unfortunately, remembers that she still has the fifth Azura book in her bag. Yet another thing Luz hadn't had to do.

Amity looks to Luz, to the flowers, back to Luz. Her heart stutters.

“I’d love to.”

The week leading up to the Enchanter’s Ball, Amity’s parents dart around in a flurry of excited preparation.

She and her siblings are swept up into the commotion until they’re tried every piece of formal wear in the Boiling Isles. Her mother drags Amity and Emira all across town until they eventually agree on something suitable, while their father takes Elric to get his suit fitted.

Overall, it’s a busy week filled with nothing she finds all that important, but goes along with for her parents’ sake. The dress she eventually settles on is a mix of purple and black that stretches to her knees- a bit simple for her family’s usual taste, but it’s comfortable, she likes it, and she thinks Luz will too, so it stays.

She isn’t sure what Luz will show up in. Considering she had jumped here from the human world with only her backpack, Amity isn’t sure where she’s planning to find clothes without any money, short of raiding Eda’s closet. With how secretive Luz had been about the whole night, Amity doubts she’ll know much of anything until they get there. But, knowing Luz, she had a feeling things will work out exactly as they’re meant to.

Well, that, or the entire evening will descend into chaos like they are prone to when Luz is around. She figures there’s a fifty-fifty shot.

“You know, break her heart and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The morning before the ball, Willow chases her down on their way to school. It only takes her a moment to realize that they are stopped in the same clearing as the day Willow’s ‘abomination’ had stolen her spotlight in class...so she had tried to have Luz dissected. Good times.

The glare Willow wears as she plants herself in front of Amity is more threatening than she ever remembers her being in all the years they had known each other. She’s almost proud, Luz must be rubbing off on her.

Still indignation pokes at Amity and pushes her to snap back, “Or you’ll what? Poke me with one of your thorns?”

Willow crosses her arms in a way that’s so Willow, that it causes a twinge of regret to rise up in her chest. “I’m not the one you should be worried about, or did you forget that Luz lives with a demon king and the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles?”

Amity scoffs, “please, King? He’s harmless.”

“But Eda isn’t.”

She’s heard the stories from Lilith countless times. Eda was- and still is- a menace when she wants to be. She won’t admit it, not to Willow, but Eda is the last person she wants to get on the wrong side of.

“I won’t hurt her,” she promises, and means it.

“I know.”

That night, her parents think she is going alone and, for once, the twins don’t try to correct them. Her parents wouldn’t care that Amity is going with a girl, people don’t care about that nearly as much as they seem to in the human world- it was more the human aspect that concerned her. Humans weren’t common in their world and neither Amity nor the twins were exactly keen on explaining that she was kind-of-sort-of dating the first one to visit in over a decade.

Instead, when it came time, the three of them slipped out the front door and went their separate ways. Elric and Emira vanished as soon as the house was out of sight. They claimed that, with every adult worth worrying about being distracted, the opportunity in front of them was too good to waste.

She hadn’t asked for details.

When she arrives, Luz is nowhere in sight. Running late, most likely.

As her classmates begin to file into the building, she waits outside, pressed against the wall. The wind ruffles her skirt as she scans the crowd, but there’s no sign of Luz, not even as Gus and Willow head in, who seem to be searching as well.

Inside, the music drifts out to shake the walls of Hexside so hard she can feel the vibrations underfoot as she waits. Party of a lifetime, now she just needed to enjoy it.

Eventually, the crowd thins out and leaves Amity alone. If she heads in now, chances are that she will find Luz waiting, ready to bounce off the walls all evening and wondering what took her so long. With all the students flooding by, she had probably missed her heading in. Nothing to worry about.

Knowing this, Amity stays outside a moment longer, scanning the empty treeline, before she kicks off the wall and finally heads in.

Down the road, just out of sight, Luz swallows around the lump in her throat, then pushes ahead.

The Lovers’ Curse, otherwise known as “Amantes Maledic,” has been with the Hexside Enchanter’s Ball for as long as time can tell.

First cast against Delaney Wail and her date, Frederick Morrister, by an angry ex-lover at Hexside’s first ever Enchanter’s Ball, the two were doomed to be bitterly torn apart by night’s end. However, inexperienced but powerful, the spell’s caster not only cursed Wail and her date, but the entire ball.

On that fateful night, every couple in attendance is said to have turned on one another in the span of an hour and, in the process, nearly tore the school apart from the inside out. Though the spell has since lost its potency, legend says that each year, the curse will still take a victim.

-Pg. 198 of “A Cohesive History of the Enchanter’s Ball”

Luz still hadn’t shown.

Amity has checked every place she can think of, then checked them again. But the dance floor is no less wild than she would expect one filled with wild, sugar-crazed witches to be, the buffet is still in stock, meaning Luz, with King most likely sneaking in behind her, hadn’t yet been raided, and Gus and Willow only look at her pitifully when she asks if they knew what was going on. She’s not here.

Luz isn’t here, but Amity is, alone.

There’s no one else around she can sit with, either. Boscha and her other friends aren’t exactly her biggest fans at the moment and sitting with Willow and Gus by herself is asking for an awkward time. If Elric and Emira were here, she could hide with them, but they’re off doing who knows where doing who knows what and Amity isn’t sure she wants to get involved in another one of their schemes anyway.

After a final loop around the room, Amity all but throws her hands up, and Willow was worried about her being the issue.  

Stupid Luz, stupid dance, stupid- what were you thinking?

Deep down, she should have known this was going to go downhill. Every second with Luz was another way to crash and burn, the girl was a walking disaster magnet. For all Amity knew, she was off helping the twins on their latest plot- or this was their latest plot. But, she wouldn’t, this time wasn’t like the library, she hadn’t known.

With no one around to see, Amity kicks the wall, only to hop back, hissing, as her toe connects with solid stone.

“Come on,” she cries as she flies off balance.

Her arms start to flail as she tumbles backward, only to suddenly stop just as she expects her head to meet stone when arms wrap around her middle and pull her back up.

Better than bleeding out in an abandoned hallway, she supposes.

As soon as she’s back on her feet, Amity spins around, a thank you on her lips, when-

“Luz?”

Her outfit is a patchwork mishmash of tuxedo, bright pink skirts, and heavy leather boots, in a way that’s handsome and beautiful all at once. She’s thoroughly, one hundred percent Luz. In short?

She looks absolutely stunning.

“Amity!” The sudden sheepish expression she wears doesn’t match the rest of her at all, it’s unnerving.

“Where have you been?” She demands.

“I-”

“Did you realize I’ve been waiting all night and you couldn’t be bothered to show? Did Eda need you for some crazy spell? Is that what’s important to you?”

Hurt flashes across Luz’s face and, for a split second she thinks good, then remembers what Willow said and knows she has to prove her wrong, if only for Luz’s sake.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says. “That wasn’t fair, whatever happened probably wasn’t your fault. You just really worried me.”

“No,” Luz says, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “I should have told you sooner. About tonight. I got scared, I almost didn’t come.”

Oh, oh .

She really should have seen that one coming. Of course Amity couldn’t keep this, she had never had it to begin with.

“You didn’t want to be here, not with me.” She backs up, ignores the way her voice breaks. “Gus and Willow are inside, you should go find them.”

She pushes past Luz to find the exit, a bathroom, somewhere that isn’t here. She knew it, knew it.

“I was scared of the curse,” Luz shouts behind her.

At that, Amity pauses, frowns. Turns around again.

“The what?”

“The curse ,” she repeats. “The Lovers’ Curse, the one everyone keeps talking about.”

Amity blinks and presses one hand to her temple.

“You...Thought we were going to be cursed?”

Face red, Luz nods.

A part of Amity wants to laugh, another part wants to kiss Luz on the spot and never let her go, while a third, much smaller part still wants to walk away while she has the chance.

Thankfully, logic steps in and tells her to take Luz by the shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She shrugs, “look, I still don’t get all the ins and outs of the Boiling Isles. I was scared it might all be some dumb joke or just another thing I didn’t understand. I wanted you to think I knew what I was doing for once.”

There’s a good chance Amity is blushing, hard, right now. In the darkness of the hall, she hopes Luz can’t tell.

“I don’t think anyone has ever cared that much before,” her hands slide down to intertwine with Luz’s. She leans close and kisses her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Never,” she promises. “And if it helps, I heard Ervin Fowler and his date stormed out about an hour ago.”

“Those two? They seemed so solid…”

“It’s a curse, what did you expect? If it helps, they’ll both bounce back by tomorrow. Their relationship may be a mess, but the physical effects of the curse don’t last long outside Hexside.”

“So, they’ll be okay?”

“As okay as you can be after a bad break-up.”

They’re both less tense, now, she can feel it in the way Luz’s shoulders drop, not wound up, like she was waiting for the final blow. An easy grin has taken over her face, as well, the one that, on a good day, would mean she was up to something.

“Hey,” Amity says after a moment. “Do you wanna dance?”

“More than anything.”

As they slip into the crowd, the music quickly rises up around them, filling up the space between them until there’s nothing left but her, Luz, and the beat.

As the world slips away, Amity leans in and holds on tight.

[sirenswhispers]

A year

N/A: Well, hello again. I’m here with a new imagine, or one shot? I’m not sure what this is, but I swear it’s something you can read. I just wanted to write something about our boy George, he derves a lot of love. Anyway, here’s something you can read and I hope you enjoyed. Love you already, whoever read this. Oh, yeah, one last thing. I decided to cut the story there, but if you want to know what happened after... Just tell me, maybe I can write it... or maybe not. We’ll see.

George Weasley x Reader

She loved the smell of powder, because he always smelled like that. Pressing her nose deeper in his neck, she sniffed his scent better.

“Woman, are you smelling me?” The voice of George Weasley sounded in the room “Yes” She answered, still with her nose pressed against his neck.

He smelled so good. She sighed, happy to be tangled in a bed with his favorite redhead.

The hot breath that collided against George's skin caused a million of butterflies to erupt in his stomach, he was doomed by this girl.

And she was a Slytherin.

Never in his wildest dreams would he had thought to fall for a Slytherin.  

Did he regret falling for a Slytherin? No, he didn’t.

Not even when the girl in his arms, the girl who he’d like to take home and call her his, didn’t belong to him.

“You know” he began, and the girl raised her head to have a better view of the lopsided grin he always had.

He wasn’t smiling this time, and that was a bad sign.

Dreading what he was about to suggest, she moved away from his body, missing the warm embrace just a second later.

“George, we’ve been over this. I told you from the begging, I have no option” His eyes lost the light as soon as her words hit him. “I have to marry him”

“No, you don’t” He declared, raising his voice just a little higher. But enough for her heart to start breaking.

“You don’t have to” He continued.

He sat on the bed, grabbing her hands in his, pulling her closer.

“Don’t marry him. You don’t have to, that’s what your parents want, not you” He was right, he was right and that hurt.

She didn’t have his bravery to stand up to her parents. She wished she could, she wished she could just tell her parents she was completely and helplessly in love with the ginger boy in front of her, but her parents would never allow it.

The Weasleys were traitors.

“George, stop. You’re just making things harder” She cried out, hot tears starting to fall from her eyes.

Her ginger boy swiped those tears away with kisses. The feeling of his lips on her face was calming enough.

“No” He said. “You just have to say yes and you wouldn’t have to marry him. Say yes”

His words didn’t make sense. Say yes to what? He continued spreading kisses all over her face, not paying attention to her confused expression.

“What do you mean?” She asked, slightly closing her eyes when the lips of the ginger boys kissed the spot close to her mouth.

“Marry me” One last kiss was given to her lips after he talked.

Silence fell over them. His hands still cupping her face. Was it real? Did he just asked her to marry him?

George Weasley asked her to marry him.

Suddenly, a scream erupted from her, startling the boy. She would be glad, honored to become his wife. She wanted to be with him the rest of her life, she wanted to wake him up with kisses and say goodnight after making love. It was her perfect dream.

She was about to say yes, until her eyes met his. His eyes full of mischief and wonder, always filled with adoration when he looked at her.

She wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t.

George Weasley had fallen in love with a brave, reckless girl. A girl who didn’t hesitate to prank him and his twin when she saw the opportunity. He fell in love with a girl that wasn’t her.

“No” She answered in a whisper.

His hands fell from her face, and when she saw his face, she noticed that his expression was filled with disappointment.

“I can’t” She said “At least, not yet.”

Just as he had done before, she grabbed his hands, a gave a tender kiss to every knuckle. She loved just one man, and if that man wanted to marry her, she would become the girl she was supposed to be for him. And for her as well.

“Give me a year” She watched him frown “In a year, go to Diagon Alley. I’ll find you there, I promise. And you’ll have a yes.”

She pecked his lips as goodbye, before putting her clothes on and walk towards the door. Turning around to face him one more time, she said her last words.

“Forgive me, but for now I just can tell you that I love you.”

And then she exited from the room and from his life, for a year.

George Weasley fell onto the mattress, a million questions running through his head. He was sure of only one thing; he’d miss her like hell for 365 days.

.

She stood in front of her parents. Her mother looked as stunning as ever, hand in hand with his father, who wore the same frown of every day.

It hadn’t been long since she had arrived to her house, officially graduated from Hogwarts. She hadn’t seen or heard a thing from George, but she was good with that. If she wanted to change, she had to do it herself. No one telling her what to do.

“Mom, dad. There’s a matter we must discuss tonight.”

She had a plan, of course she had one. Her suitcase was waiting for her right beside the entrance, packed with everything she needed and incantated with an expanding charm.

“Tell us” His father didn’t even take the time to look at her, which was good. Otherwise she’d be frozen in her place.  

Shallowing hard, she remembered her ginger boy. How she would play with his fiery hair while kissing and the rosy cheeks he always had in a winter day. Yes, she was doing this for them.

Because she deserved to be happy with him.

And she was a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake.

“I’m not marrying anyone”

That was it, she had the total attention from her parents now. Not allowing herself to tremble or shutter, she carried on.

“Well, actually I am marrying someone, just not who you want to.”

By now her mother had to sit down, too shocked to stand. His father, on the other hand, looked like he was about to yell at her.

But before he could open his mouth, she spoke again.

“I’m leaving the house. I know you wouldn’t be able to carry the shame of your only daughter marrying a Weasley.” She spoke, her voice filled with disappointment.  

Her parents were once her everything. They always treated her right, and gave her everything she wanted. Her mother used to bake cookies for her when she was a child, and her father would tell her stories every night.

It broke her heart that they would rather kick her out of the house before letting her marry the man she truly loved.

Because even if she hadn't seen their reaction, she knew her parents well. They'd be better without her and George.

“I’m sorry that this didn’t go like you planned. I’m sorry I have to go because you prefer to believe in pure blood than in love. I’m sorry I’d miss you even when you will try to erase my existence from your lives.”

Not being able to hold the tears any longer, she left. She walked away, grabbed her things and apparated to a place not so far away from her parents.

The sweet lady with who she would share her new apartment with was already waiting for her with a cup of steaming tea.

For now, she was her only family. And her new boss too.

In the days after Hogwarts, she had been looking for work. She needed to maintain herself now that she didn’t have her parents, so when she had found a little tea shop and knew that they were hiring, she didn’t hesitate to ask for the job.

As it seemed that nobody else wanted the spot, she had had it rather quickly. And when Helga, the sweet woman who owned the shop heard her story and plan, she offered her a place to live as well.

Of course, her new apartment also meant a lower payment, but she was okay with it. She didn´t need much, and there were only 300 more days ahead of her before seeing his warm eyes again.

.

When 364 days had passed, George Weasley was barely containing the excitement of being with her love again. He was ready to greet her with a big kiss, put a ring on her finger and take her with him to the flat he shared with his twin.

His twin, on the other hand, was about to knock him out if he said her name one more time. Yes, he was happy his brother and a good woman would be happy and together as they were in love, but he also needed peace after a day full of work and kids running around the shop.

“George, stop pacing around or you’d create a hole in the floor.” He said but his brother kept walking from side to side “Brother, don’t make me grab my wand and cast immobulus on you. I mean it”

He stopped at the menace. But instead of pacing, he then began to jump from feet to feet.

“George! Just go to sleep, you’d see her soon.” Yelled his twin before locking himself in his room.

Soon was not soon enough!

.

The store was crowded. She had told George she’d find him today because she had known, from the second he told her about his dreams, that he’d be able to open his shop. And knowing Fred, the store would have something very outstanding in it. Like a big replica of the twins greeting the clients from the entrance.

She smiled at the view, she wished she could see every corner of the shop right away, but there would be plenty of time for that later.

For now, she just wanted to give a long and wet kiss to her fiancé.

Entering the shop was like entering a colorful and noisy world. She couldn’t even hear her own thoughts, and how was she suppose to find George in all that mass of people?

Deciding that standing there wasn’t helpful, she started to walk around.

How many redheads were in the store? And why was everyone as tall as Fred and George were suddenly?

She was starting to get annoyed. People kept coming in and out of her zone of view, none of them being her ginger boy.

Losing her temper with every new face she met in her way, she was about to scream when a lopsided smile caught her attention.

The he was, smiling like he always did.

She pushed through the people before he could disappear again.

“George!” She screamed just a few steps away from him.

He’d never forget her voice. She was here, she was here! He wanted to run and find her.

“Don’t you dare move! I’ve been looking for you this last hour and I’m not about to lose you out of sight again.” He heard her scream and planted both feet on the ground.

Not even blinking.  

The woman he loved could be very scary when people didn’t listen to her.

He didn’t know he was giving her his back until she jumped over it. Crossing her legs with him trapped between them.      

“Yes. I will marry you” She told him in a whisper, giving his ear a kiss from behind.

His body got warm at her action. A year without her touch just made him suppress his desire to take her to bed with him.

Grabbing his legs so she wouldn’t move from his back, George started walking in the direction of the stairs. Ready to greet her properly in his room.

“Where are we going?” She asked, a fake tone of innocence accompanying her words.

“I’ve waited a year for you, it’s time I get my reward” She chuckled and leaned closer to his ear “I thought the reward was marrying me and being able to make me love everyday as your wife”

He stood still, that sounded even better. Taking a new direction, he turned around.

“Where are we going now?” She asked, happy to finally be with him.

He didn’t answer. Not that she cared much, she was with him now, wherever they'd go together was perfect.

Only when they passed by Fred she discovered what he was thinking about.

“Fred, I’m on my way to getting marry. Close the door and meet us in The Burrow.”

Neither Fred or her could say something else before George apparated with her. A very unstably looking house being in her sight, very tall and very…

“Unique” Was all she said.

“Soon to be Mr. Weasley, I’m proud to present you The Burrow, humble home of the wonderful Weasley family.” He let go of her legs and she jumped off him, grabbing his hand instead.

“I’m about to meet you mother?” She asked in a tiny voice.

Fred and George would always talk about their mother with love, only saying good things about her and her cooking. It was easy to tell how much George loved his mother, and it made her anxious to meet the most important person of her fiancé’s life.

She gulped.

“Are you sure this is the right time?” He chuckled “If I’m marrying you tomorrow, and you have to meet your mother-in-law before the wedding… yes, this is the right time, Love.”

She gulped again; this time stronger.

Sensing her fiancé was nervous, George pulled her hand in a kiss.

“Don’t worry love, she already loves you.” She looked at him in surprise.

He told her mother about her? That warmed her heart.

They hadn’t even greeted each other properly yet. Thinking about that and with her heart filled with the warmth of his words, she took a little jump to connect their lips.

Just like the first time, the kiss gave her goosebumps and electric sensations. Oh, how she had missed kissing him.

Deciding they had some time before entering, he pulled her closer by her waist, tracing the shape of her lower lip with his tongue, taking in her sweet taste.

The taste cherry she always had.

They pulled apart, and with their hands intertwined, they entered the house.

Molly Weasley loved her daughter-in-law from the minute she saw her come into the house, hand in hand with his son, who was wearing the biggest smile she had seemed him with yet. That was all she needed to know about the girl; that she made her son a happy man.

[darkshrimpemotions]

5 for the ask game?

5) Samjess, Sameileen, Samruby, Samcas, or someone else?

Hoo boy. Okay well...honestly, I would have said all of these at different times, but now that we’ve seen the whole show, definitely Saileen for me. And because I’m a wordy little shit I’m gonna tell you why!

Jess is the girl Sam loved and lost. I have no doubt that he truly loved her, but it was an incomplete love and in some ways, it was based on fictions. He didn’t feel like he could be honest with her. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t want to be honest with her. She was aspirational for him in a way, I think. Jess was part of his attempt to run away from his past, and as we now know, that past was never going to let him run away for long. And through no fault of her own, Jess fell in love with an idea of himself Sam was trying very hard to project. We don’t have any way of knowing how she would have responded to the darker sides of Sam. Or whether they would have continued to love each other if they saw other sides of each other. What if Jess learned the truth and ran the other way (totally understandable)? Or...what if she didn’t, and Sam couldn’t deal with his idea of her not matching the fully reality? So while I hate that Jess died and frankly can’t believe the missed opportunities there, I also don’t think she and Sam would have ended up together if she’d stuck around or come back somehow (at least not in the well-written SPN that lives in my head).

Ruby was...well, she was using Sam. And that’s not to say she didn’t truly feel something for him! I think she did, and I think we get confirmation of that in season 15. She still thinks fondly of him even in the Empty, years later (and privately, I like to think that Ruby has no regrets and thus dreams peacefully in the Empty of days on the road with Sam). But she brought out the worst in him, on purpose, nurturing his darkest impulses and biggest insecurities for her own ends, and that would be difficult for them to ever get past. SamxRuby is Fun Toxic Fictional Relationship Hours but definitely not Endgame Relationship Hours, at least not for me. I think Sam was It for Ruby, but I don’t think Ruby was or could be It for Sam in any version of his story that doesn’t end with him going very dark. I do kinda wish we’d gotten to see Ruby learn the truth about Lucifer, though. It would have been interesting to see how she would have reacted to that, given that she was a “true believer” and all. And I kind of would have liked seeing them become friends, if she’d survived or come back.

Castiel and Sam are fantastic in so many ways I can’t even list them (something something chaotic besties). But...well. I can’t shut my inner Destiel shipper up long enough to ship them seriously. My inner Destiel shipper is louder even than my inner multishipper, apparently, and I’m pretty sure that’s what people really mean by an OTP. Though I do have a plotbunny floating around in my head where Sam starts flirting with Cas to make Dean actually fucking do something already, and ends up being more serious about it than he intended just in time for Dean to catch on and wise the fuck up. But I have a lot of plotbunnies, so the world is probably safe from that one. Probably.

Eileen is just...she’s just perfect, okay? She’s badass, she’s smart, she’s sarcastic, she’s funny. She doesn’t have a problem ribbing Sam a little, and he needs that, okay? Later seasons Sam especially needs someone with a sense of humor who can remind him how to have fun, because he’s really had it rough by that point and doesn’t joke around nearly as much as he used to. She gets it, too, in a way very few people ever can or will. Not just the life but the difficult childhood, the coming back from the dead, the sudden disorienting leap from supernatural exterminator to suddenly tangling with things way above your pay grade. She gets all of it, and they understand each other and are honest with each other in a way I don’t think we see with anyone else other than Sarah (but we don’t talk about Sarah, because I don’t want to have a breakdown tonight). Eileen brings out the absolute best in Sam, and I think the reverse is probably true. We don’t see a softer side to Eileen at first, until she grows closer to Sam. And there’s the very understated-but-still-there impression that Eileen doesn’t have a lot of softness in her life. So seeing her get to rediscover that part of herself with Sam, seeing how gentle they are with each other, it just...it really threatens to make me have Emotions, okay?

As far as any “others,” I’d kind of like to see what would happen (other than Dean losing his fucking mind) if Sam had ever nutted up and flirted with Bela.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

J.I.L.

Roomies for Too Damn Long

Summary: They can’t take her to the Avengers, so Steve has another idea.

Word Count: 1823 words

-.-.-.-.-

Washington D.C – April 5th, 2014

Jeneva didn’t realize how much she missed until she found herself in a car, driving somewhere in D.C. She had missed driving. She missed the feel of the sun on her skin and how obnoxious busybodies in the streets could actually be. Isolation for so long truly made her forget what was normal.

“Forgive moi, but ain’t the Avengers located up in New York?” It only made sense for her to stay there. There would be constant supervision for an ex-prisoner, access to their resources – it would make sense.

“We aren’t going to the Compound.”

Jeneva looks away from the window, catching Steve’s eyes in the rearview mirror. There was pain there. Worry about his decisions. She chuckled. “They don’t know.” Slumping in her seat, she crossed her arms and watched what little reactions she could get out of the man. “Y’have a weird dynamic wit’ your amis, chere.”

“Tony wouldn’t exactly encourage this sort of thing,” Sam told her, looking at her from the passenger seat.

“Why would he? He doesn’t have anyt’in’ t’gain from it.” She looked back at Steve. “So what? Hookin’ moi up wit’ an apartment?”

The two shared a look before Steve turned down a road. Up ahead, she could see an apartment complex. Most likely, where she would be staying. “Something like that.”

---

“And this is your room,” Sam told her, opening the door. Jeneva stepped inside. The room was a basic guest room. Nothing too extravagant which she preferred anyway. And there was even a desk with a laptop. Setting the file next to it, she looked back to the doorway.

There, Sam and Steve crowded looking almost like proud parents. Almost. It was mostly Sam.

“Uh…merci,” she said, chuckling at that proud grin on his face. “So this is y’all’s…brilliant arrangement?”

“It’s temporary. Once you find Bucky, you can do whatever you want,” Steve told her, pushing himself off the doorway. She watched him walk away before looking at Sam.

“Charmin’.”

“Cut him some slack. Bucky’s that one guy who means everything to him,” Sam explained, leaning against the doorway. “And our last time with the guy, he wasn’t in his right frame of mind.”

“Yeah, no shit.” She hesitated, glancing at the bed before looking at him. “Are y’comfortable wit’ this? I know the whole t’ing is Steve’s idea, but I’m not goin’ t’impose just t’fulfill our deal.”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t mind. Besides, having a roommate for a couple weeks could be fun.”

---

July 4th, 2014

Jeneva blamed Sam for her difficulty in finding Barnes. She had no doubt in her mind that he managed to jinx her. He just had to say two weeks. Well, two turned into three. Then a month. And so on because that’s how time works.

“Baise-moi,” she snapped, kicking the blankets and paperwork that surrounded her. The blankets fell to the floor as the papers flew into the air, quickly finding a home on the carpet. She rest her elbows on her crossed legs, massaging her temples. She just wanted to find him. The sooner that happened, the sooner she could go on with her life.

But it was hard to focus with so much static in the air. The lights flickered, shutting off and finally giving her a sense of peace.

“Jeneva!”

It was nice while it lasted.

She looked up as the door swung open. “Hiya, Sammy.”

“We talked about you shutting off the electricity, Jen.” The first time she’d done it, her glowing, cat-like eyes had scared the crap out of him, but he quickly got used to it. The problem was her eyes were the only thing about this situation that he got used to.

Jeneva grimaced. A couple seconds passed and the lights came back on, earning a sigh of relief. He was about to turn to go, knowing she preferred her space, but then he noticed her…well, everything. The mess on the floor, how she was hunched in a disaster of a bed, and the fact that her body language screamed, “Fuck the world.”

“Come on.”

She looked up as he gestured to the living room. “What?”

“I ordered pizza and I’m about to watch that John Wick movie.” Gesturing to her, he explained, “You look like you could use some unnecessary violence.”

“That’s how you’re celebratin’ July fourt’? Really?”

Sam shrugged. “I’m interesting like that.”

Jeneva sighed. “Look, Sam, y’don’t have t’be nice t’moi – “

“I know. But sometimes walking away from a thing actually helps you solve it faster. So get off your ass and watch a movie with me.”

Jeneva groaned but couldn’t bring herself to argue. Crawling out of the bed, she let him shove her out of the room like a mother hen. “There’s alcohol with the movie, right?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

-.-.-.-

March 10th, 2015

“Why is it taking so long?”

Jeneva winced as she heard Steve’s voice from the living room. She didn’t blame him for being frustrated. It had been a long time since they saved her from the Raft and she had nothing to show for her work. She’d gone out a couple times – to New York in case Bucky wanted to relive his childhood. To the middle of nowhere USA in case he wanted off the grid. The thing was, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he kept moving, never staying in one place for long. It made sense at least.

“Steve, you’re having her find a guy nicknamed ‘the ghost’. Cut her some slack.”

There was silence. A small huff. “I know. I do – I understand that. I just…”

“I know. But you haven’t been here. That girl is pouring over every little bit of information she can get her hands on. When she isn’t asleep, she’s looking for him. Her time is invested in this and she wasn’t bullshitting you when she said she’d find him. Barnes is just really good at hiding.”

She looked up at the map on her wall. Little pins of various colors showed where she could possibly find him. Based off his history with HYDRA, she had very little reason to believe he was still in the United States. Her gaze shifted to Europe. It would make sense. He had spent most of his time there.

Maybe it was time to shift her tactics.

-.-.-.-.-

April 14th, 2016

“You have some of the worst ideas.”

Jeneva rolled her eyes as she took a sip of the coffee in hand. Sure, maybe taking a couple visits to Europe was a little extreme. Especially when they had nothing to go off as to where Bucky could be, but she was running out of options. She didn’t want to be sent back to the Raft and, while Sam promised Steve would never do that, she had been at the hands of people making promises.

And she’d been at the hands of those people when they were angry.

“I t’ink y’the only person that would call Italy a bad idea, chere,” she teased as she looked down the streets. Her energy had taken a dip, so he had recommended stopping for caffeine. She could already feel herself buzzing from it, but of course the enjoyment was short lived when she heard Sam complain again.

“You realize that the only reason we were able to do this is because you have a plane, right?”

“’Ey, y’the one that helped moi get it and my ot’er shit out o’ storage.”

“Believe me, I might be regretting that.”

She smirked. “Liar.”

Sam didn’t say anything, sticking close to her as they abandoned their empty cups and went back to work. “I don’t know how you came up with this and thought it was a good idea, Sparky.”

“Better than stayin’ cooped up in that apartment and gettin’ no good or bad results. Just a lot of empty answers.”

“But what made you think Italy?”

“One o’the assignments he was given,” she muttered absentmindedly, recalling the politician the Winter Soldier had been assigned to kill.

Silence fell for a while. Both of them knew that this was a lost cause. Three days of scouring small towns, places that would make sense for him to be hiding.

And still they found nothing.

“Jen,” Sam finally spoke again.

She huffed, jumping slightly when she felt his hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”

“We’re going to find him,” Sam assured her, having absolute faith in her abilities. Jeneva was too stubborn for him to think she’d fail. “But I think it’s safe to say that we can cross Italy off the list.”

Glancing at him, she ran a hand through her tangled mess of hair. He watched the slight tick of her jaw and how that gold in her eyes flickered. Her frustration was a little obvious. “Let’s just get out o’ here.”

Sam looped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently. “You got it.”

“And Sam,” she asked, looking up at him. “’Appy birt’day.”

He snorted. “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

June 22, 2016

Jeneva’s eyes were glued to her phone, brow furrowed. It didn’t make sense. She’d been studying this man’s file, hunting him down for two years. There was no way he bombed the Vienna International Centre. Right? She couldn’t have been that oblivious to him.

But then her screen lit up, showing Sam’s face covered in birthday cake.

She swiped to answer, holding the phone to her ear and looking around. Maybe the press was wrong. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time. “Sam?”

“Hey, you saw?”

Jeneva huffed. “Kinda hard t’miss.”

“Please, tell me you aren’t out looking for him.”

Jeneva shrugged. “Wasn’t gonna waste a trip t’Romania.” She smiled at a little girl who was admiring the wild curls in Jeneva’s hair, giving her a small wave before the kid ran off to catch up with her mom.

“Jen!”

“It’s not hurtin’ anyone,” she muttered.

“He bombed the UN meeting.”

“I don’t t’ink so.” She walked backwards, rolling her eyes as he kept going on and on about her risking her life. “Sammy, chill. ‘M a mutant. What could happen?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she had accidentally bumped into someone. As she spun around, she heard a soft ‘sorry’. She looked up, catching a glimpse of the man hiding underneath the baseball cap. Before she even had the opportunity to apologize, to say that it truly was her fault, he was already moving. And she was amazed.

She blinked as he crossed the street, looking both ways. There was no way it happened that easily.

“Hey, Sparky, you there?”

Jeneva swallowed, finally realizing that Sam was still talking to her. “Y’wouldn’t believe what just happened,” she murmured, watching as the man she had been searching for for two years purchased a newspaper. Something so simple.

“What?”

“I found him.”

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 10

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wēn Qíng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wēn Remnants, Wen Meilin (OC), Fourth Uncle, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars

Summary: A necessary discussion is had between Lan XiChen and the refugees, and between the brothers.

Notes: Chuntao, the name I gave a random auntie, means spring peach. I headcanon that popo and jifu are basically the Dafan Wen elders at this point, thus why they stay for the entire discussion. Can you imagine being lxc and being shown undeniable proof that you’ve been lied to by your sworn brother—oh wait, that’s canon. But this discussion had to be had without wwx present for a variety of reasons, especially from lwj’s perspective. Basically, wwx has enough burdening him, and lwj feels it’s his turn to shoulder some of it (and high time the rest of the cultivation world shouldered some of it as well). Also, there’s just a lot of philosophical aspects here, including Laozi, Confucius, Mozi, Sun Tzu, Mencius, etc. A lot of ancient Chinese philosophy is rather anti-war (coming from multiple periods involving warring states) or even advocates overthrowing rulers who are cruel to the people. The included Sun Tzu quote referenced by lxc was basically to convince captured soldiers to fight for your side (especially charioteers) through kind treatment, so while it doesn’t technically apply to civilians one could imagine you’d want civilians to be willing to provide for troops. I’m really just starting to delve into it all.

AO3 link

Chapters:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

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

Lan WangJi can’t help but notice that XiChen’s attention is on Wei Ying, as popo and Wen Qing keep putting food in his bowl and bullying him to eat more. Where normally Wei Ying would be endearingly dramatic about it, for the amusement of all, today he eats quietly, accepting their cajoling without complaint. 

A-Yuan is the one to ease Wei Ying from the odd quiet, holding up his chopsticks with a bit of food.

“Xian-gege eat!” he demands. “Xian-gege too skinny.”

The delivery is a mix of popo and Wen Qing while also being completely a-Yuan, and Wei Ying laughs with the rest of the Wens before eating the morsel of food and reaching forward to pinch the boy’s cheek.

“All right, a-Yuan, I’m eating. I promise. You eat yours, and I’ll eat mine.”

The interaction leaves XiChen smiling in amusement, but there are other emotions under the surface, questions Lan WangJi knows he wants to ask but is holding back. He knows eventually he’ll have to answer some of them, but for now he joins the others in adding food to Wei Ying’s bowl. 

His zhiji gives him a look of mock betrayal, then holds out his chopsticks with a bite of food and an expectant look that Lan WangJi indulges, taking the bite of food. But then he feeds Wei Ying with his own chopsticks, something that makes some Wens chuckle and Wei Ying blush. He doesn’t look at XiChen to see his reaction.

Lunch is over too soon, and Wen Qing plops a-Yuan into Wei Ying’s lap.

“Nap time for little boys,” she jokes.

“Xianxian isn’t little,” Wei Ying chirps. “Xianxian is three.”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes at the game.

“Brat,” she says, but fails to hide a smile. “Go on, then.”

Lan WangJi touches his shoulder before he can move to get up.

“Would you like me to play for you until you sleep?”

He is gifted with an adoring smile.

“We’ll be fine. Spend time with your brother.” 

Wei Ying nods to Zewu-Jun.

“I hope you don’t need to leave too quickly.”

XiChen smiles, clearly picking up on his meaning.

“No, I’ll still be here later. I hope to spend some time getting to know the people here.”

Wei Ying nods, though his expression briefly dips into a sort of knowing pity at what he likely knows they will learn, then takes a breath that’s half yawn. He stands, hefting a-Yuan.

“Aiya… I guess a-Yuan and I get to try out the new bed first. Time for little radishes to sleep.”

He heads off through the interior passage to the cave, and a-Yuan’s response echoes.

“Xian-gege is a radish too? Can a-Yuan call you Luobo-gege?”

The echoing of Wei Ying’s laughter is almost musical.

Unfortunately, with Wei Ying gone, XiChen’s questioning gaze turns to Lan WangJi. He meets his brother’s gaze stoically, intending to answer questions, but he will not offer information. 

“Everyone seemed insistent on urging WuXian to eat,” XiChen finally says.

It isn’t a question, but Wen Qing answers anyway.

“It took a while to get food growing. We didn’t have a lot. That idiot kept slipping his rations to a-Yuan. We’re breaking him of that, now that there’s enough food.”

It surprises Lan WangJi when his brother looks alarmed at that.

“But he can no longer practice inedia,” he breathes. “How badly has his health been impacted?”

Wen Qing glances at Lan WangJi, her gaze pointed, and he knows she is asking how much XiChen knows.

“Wei Ying told xiongzhang he no longer has a golden core,” he tells her. “That he did not have one when Wen Chao threw him here, and throughout the war.”

A bit of tension leaves her frame, and she turns to XiChen. The explanation is clear enough for her to understand Wei Ying didn’t reveal his sacrifice and her hand in it.

“This is not the first time in his life he has faced extreme malnourishment, and each subsequent time impacts his health more drastically. He is more susceptible to illness, doubly so without a golden core.”

“This isn’t the first time?” XiChen echoes. “WuXian has starved before?”

This time it’s a question, so Lan WangJi answers. 

“After his parents died, before Jiang FengMian found him, Wei Ying spent several years homeless as a child, here in Yiling in fact. And then Burial Mounds, the three months he was missing. He told you of the resentful energy—not much grows here naturally.”

XiChen closes his eyes, and Lan WangJi is reminded how much his brother’s face expresses the emotion he feels. He can see XiChen understands exactly how poorly Wei Ying is doing, if only one aspect of it. He knows his brother will learn worse, as he did.

“He has no core to cleanse the resentful energy that infiltrates his body, which is as much a pressing matter as the starvation,” Wen Qing continues. “Only a few days ago he leeched resentful energy from a plot of land so it could be farmed safely. If not for Lan WangJi’s help, he’d still be working on it, and barely functional when he wasn’t.”

“Truly,” jifu adds, having wandered over, “when he told us we were in Burial Mounds, we thought we had been led to our deaths anyway.”

“But that boy told us we could survive,” popo says. “He’s made sure of it, but it costs him. And we can’t even stop him because otherwise things would be worse. Aiya, he’s barely grown, but he’s suffered so much.”

The aunties and uncles have pulled chairs close, and he can see XiChen studying them, finding only faces ruddy from farming, many middle aged or older. Many are nodding their agreement with popo.

“And he brought a-Ning back to us,” one of the aunties—Chuntao, if Lan WangJi’s memory serves—adds. “He tries so hard.”

“We can never repay him,” Meilin-yi says softly. “But we can try to help him, to make him healthier. Do more of the work so he can rest.”

“He is truly blessed to have your care,” XiChen says.

His comment is met with discomfort in the faces around them. 

“It’s kind of you to say so, Zewu-Jin,” jifu offers. “But if not for having saved us, he could go home and live in peace. We are blessed by his righteousness, but he is condemned to this.”

Lan WangJi has not been amongst the Wen remnants away from Wei Ying much, so this is the first he’s heard of it. But this, at least, he can ease in them, if only through acknowledging the cultivation world politics in play.

“No,” he says. “Sect Leader Jin wants the amulet. Wei Ying would have been cast out, or worse, regardless.”

XiChen winces but doesn’t correct him. Wen Qing’s face goes carefully blank.

“Only those who do not seek power are fit to be entrusted with it,” she says, a variation on the teachings of Zhuangzi. “Wen RuoHan sought the yin iron and look what came of that.”

“The yin iron piece hidden at Dafan Mountain was in our goddess statue,” popo tells XiChen. “She came to life and started stealing souls when he removed it. A-Qing and a-Ning lost their parents that day.”

“A-Ning lost part of his soul that day,” Wen Qing whispers.

Wen Ning puts his hand on his sister’s shoulder in comfort, and she reaches up to place hers over it.

XiChen already looks overwhelmed, but there is so much more to tell him, including what Lan WangJi failed to report regarding the Dafan Wens during the journey he and Wei Ying undertook.

“I did not have the opportunity to report before the attack on Cloud Recesses. Wei Ying and I had to reseal the statue—Wen RuoHan sought to use it as a weapon, along with the people he had turned into puppets. These people.”

The memory of a chain around Wei Ying’s throat, of him going limp… Though it had turned out to be a ruse, the bruising around his neck had been dark enough to make clear how close he had been to death.

Truly, that Wei Ying had killed one of Wen RuoHan’s owls had likely made him a target well before Indoctrination. 

“My family was held hostage to force my cooperation,” Wen Qing tells him.

XiChen sighs softly, looking around at the group as though just realizing how few of them there are, how many must have perished under Wen RuoHan or in misguided vengeance after the war.

“I wish I could change what has already happened, but we can only move forward. If you are amenable, I would like to learn more about your treatment in the labor camps.”

This has been something Lan WangJi has dreaded to learn more of, as he knows from what little he saw at Qiongqi Path that their treatment was inhuman—beyond inhumane. 

Stories are told haltingly. Of screams in the night. Of beatings and torture and rotten food. Of the young women disappearing one by one—dead, raped or sold to brothels, no one knew. Of the children succumbing to illness one by one. Of others disappearing. Of brazen murder, bodies dumped into a ravine, the one where Wei Ying and Wen Qing had found Wen Ning. Of degradation and hopelessness, of waiting for death. 

Of groups being taken by a smiling man “for interrogation,” and never returning.

“Some were Qishan Wen,” a-Ning breaks in. “Others were Dafan.”

Some of the Wens have scars to show XiChen, evidence of their time abused in the labor camp. Lash mark scars on backs and legs and arms. An uncle’s broken arm that had partially healed wrong and required Wen Qing to rebreak to set and heal properly. A brand mark burned in the shape of a peony on the shoulder of one of the aunties.

The brand is especially shocking, harkening to the treatment by Wen Chao’s mistress, the scar in the shape of a sun on Wei Ying’s chest. That the Jins have resorted to the same type of cruelty, even ignoring the apparent genocide of the Wens, shows Lan WangJi they are too far down the same path as Wen RuoHan, and he hopes his brother is coming to the same conclusion.

Aunties and uncles wander in and out during stories, some getting back to work after telling their piece, some helping Wen Ning clean up after lunch. Some leave for a bit, overcome by emotion, and return to tell more. Others go back to the fields, or to work with the dyes. These are tales they have experienced; they don’t need to hear them retold.

The horror of their accumulated stories, and the fact that all clans are complicit in failing to oversee or regulate, just trusting the Jin at their word… It’s overwhelming. 

Eventually, only popo, jifu, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning remain in the communal hall, the others having returned to their chores, or to handle the emotions brought up by reliving their trauma privately. 

“WuXian saw this?” XiChen finally asks softly, his jaw taut.

“He saw enough,” jifu says. “Not all of it, but he saw the bodies. We weren’t allowed to bury them. He probably guessed much of the rest.”

XiChen only nods, looking devastated. Whether at the betrayal of being lied to by the Jins—or one in particular—or devastation at the souls not put to rest, Lan WangJi didn’t know. Or perhaps it was having to see the effects on the living souls forced to take refuge on a mountain that was a mass grave. 

It could also be his culpability as a sect leader, of one of the remaining four great sects in not establishing a way to monitor the work camps, something that should have been done regardless of the need to rebuild. 

Likely, all of it weighed on his brother.

“We were told the civilians would be watched over at Qiongqi Path. That only those who took part in the war would be executed,” XiChen says softly.

He sounds lost, and Lan WangJi wonders who told him this—he thinks it is likely it was Jin GuangYao. XiChen wouldn’t look as though he felt betrayed had he only been lied to by Jin GuangShan.

“They lied,” Lan WangJi tells him bluntly. “Wei Ying and I saw Jin ZiXun using fleeing civilians in chains as target practice. Women, children, old men… When we confronted him, he claimed the Lan and Nie sect leaders had agreed anyone concerned with yin iron should not be alive.”

He watches XiChen close his eyes again, watches shame cross his face—the same shame he has felt, a necessary shame.

“‘Captured soldiers should be treated kindly and kept,’” he murmurs, quoting Sun Tzu. “That civilians would be treated with such cruelty…”

His voice is hoarse, as he seems to recognize the immorality of what was allowed to occur, that perhaps the warning against becoming one’s enemy has been disregarded too easily, and something akin to the depravity of Wen RuoHan has taken hold, unchecked until Wei Ying’s actions. 

And Wei Ying has been painted as the villain, the subject of a vicious rumor campaign including accusations of grave robbing, kidnapping, and cannibalism, the source of all ills, when he is simply farming and trying to survive. 

The anger Lan WangJi felt in the tea house threatens to rise to the surface again, the slander against his zhiji, his husband, someone who upholds the values of justice and righteousness at the cost of his freedom and reputation, absolutely unacceptable. 

“Their camps were just a way to kill us more slowly, outside the view of the other sects,” Wen Qing comments. “A-Ning was pierced though with a defaced Qishan Wen flag and tossed down a ravine to rest among the bodies of others killed. He was still alive when we got there, but his spiritual cognition was gone. The guards killed were those who participated in his murder.”

“I d-don’t remember killing anyone,” Wen Ning admits. “Nothing between p-passing out from pain and waking up here. It’s just a b-blank space in my memory.”

“There were at least fifty bodies down there,” Wen Qing whispers. “Wei WuXian waded into the water with me, and we checked each one until I found him.”

XiChen winces, his fist clenched under the table. He knows, likely, that their testimonies will mean little in terms of seeking justice. The winners of the war would decide the narrative of the labor camps, and the Jins had plenty of time since Wei Ying’s actions to erase evidence of their crimes. 

That night in the rain, Wei Ying’s expression had been of a man disillusioned, a man who could take no more of the established order if it meant tolerating injustice. And if he had spent that time wading in fetid water tainted by corpses, seeking the body of the man he owed his life to, his friend, knowing that man was almost certainly dead… Lan WangJi could understand what would lead him to turn his back on the cultivation world that had allowed such an atrocity. 

What use had Wei Ying for orthodoxy after that?

“They decided all Wens were responsible for the war,” jifu said, his voice tired. “Children like a-Yuan, grandparents like popo… Everyone. If not for young master Wei, we would be gone as well, and no one would think to care. He came to rescue a-Ning, and what he saw led him to decide he would leave none of us in that place.”

“Wen Ning rescued Jiang Cheng after the fall of Lotus Pier, and likely prevented Wei Ying’s death during indoctrination,” Lan WangJi explains.

“During indoctrination?” XiChen asks.

“Wen Chao p-put him in the dungeon with a d-direwolf,” Wen Ning supplies haltingly.

Lan WangJi goes cold—not a mere dog, but a direwolf? That Wei Ying survived long enough for aid to come is a miracle. He wonders how badly his husband was injured, but knows the herbs and energy boosting medicine at least left no scarring; he has mapped each of Wei Ying’s scars each night, and none seem to correspond with the rips that had been in his robes that day. 

But back then, Wei Ying had a strong golden core.

“They did not expect him to survive the night,” Lan WangJi manages, though his calm is forced. “He believes he was intended to be an example, a warning to the rest of us.”

“Wen Chao did intend that,” Wen Qing acknowledges, lips pursed. “He was furious he survived. I knew a-Ning had intervened, but not that Wei WuXian had been locked in with that beast until later.”

XiChen is quiet for a bit, pale and clearly digesting the information. Lan WangJi is certain he knows this only scratches the surface of Wei Ying’s trauma, especially as xiongzhang is unaware Wei Ying is terrified of dogs, that he is revisiting his earlier feelings of having failed him—he has felt all of this himself. He still feels it.

“Then it seems WuXian owes a life debt to Wen QiongLin,” XiChen finally comments. “Which would usually expire upon death, but he remains spiritually conscious.”

Wen Qing draws in a sharp breath at the ramifications; though XiChen doesn’t have all the information—particularly regarding the surgery she had performed to transplant Wei Ying’s golden core to Jiang Cheng, which she seems to believe cancels out any such debt—Lan WangJi agrees with his brother’s assessment.

“Further, as WuXian was at the very least betrothed to WangJi at the time, the life debt is also his.”

While Lan WangJi fully expected this statement, it’s clear the Wens did not. Wen Qing looks overwhelmed, and Wen Ning seems confused. Jifu and popo look as though they might cry. They know what is meant here, know that this is a statement of responsibility. XiChen is condoning his support and protection of the Dafan Wens.

“GusuLan as a whole must recognize the life debt,” XiChen continues. “And as sect leader, I consider it valid. You saved my brother’s husband, and his family.”

The wording almost implies the Lan clan as a whole owes a life debt, which goes beyond what he expected—it offers an extra measure of protection. But Lan WangJi sees some of the logic his brother is going for and decides to add to it.

“Given that Wen Ning rescued Jiang Cheng from Wen Chao at Lotus Pier, and he and Wen Qing sheltered the Jiang siblings and Wei Ying at the Yiling Indoctrination Bureau, it is likely the Jiangs also owe a life debt.”

XiChen smiles at him, his eyes shrewd, calculating in a way Lan WangJi rarely sees from him. He wonders if the betrayal his brother feels over the lies he has been fed by a trusted friend has sharpened him in this way, leading him to think deviously where he usually would not.

“Of course, since Lady Jiang is to be wed to Jin ZiXuan, that would extend the life debt to him. And if Nie HuaiSang aided in protecting the Dafan Wens during the incident you mentioned, Wen Qing and Wen Ning similarly owe him a life debt.”

Wen Qing has been staring open-mouthed, but she seems to catch on quickly. Popo and jifu clearly understand and are overwhelmed. Wen Ning looks confused but seems content to listen and let his sister explain later.

“You’re proposing there exists a life debt among eight people?” she asks.

“I’m only summarizing what has occurred,” XiChen answers congenially. “I could hardly propose such a thing in the current political climate. It would undermine the Chief Cultivator. As a sect leader, that would be irresponsible of me.”

The smile on Wen Qing’s face is almost wicked.

“It seems like a matter between the eight of us,” she says. “What an auspicious number. Perhaps you would be willing to send a letter to Lady Jiang for me, Zewu-Jun? In the current political climate, anything from Yiling to Lady Jiang would garner red flags…”

“Of course. I need to send a missive to Sect Leader Jiang anyway on behalf of WangJi and WuXian, and I’m sure he would be willing to deliver a letter to his sister.”

Wen Qing rises and bows to him, then to Lan WangJi.

“Thank you. I will excuse myself to compose the letter. I’m sure Hanguang-Jun would be happy to give you a tour of our humble home.”

Popo and jifu excuse themselves to work on their projects—popo to aid in the dyeing, and jifu to work on his next carpentry project—so overcome with gratitude they almost kowtow to XiChen before they leave. XiChen, unsurprisingly, urges them not to bow; Lan WangJi knows this is partly out of guilt. Wen Qing tells Wen Ning to help with the dyeing project and move the dye vats outside before leaving as well, presumably to compose the letter.

Lan WangJi leads his brother from the hall, and around the various vegetable patches, explaining abundance of radishes nearly ready for harvest, showing him the new field with its newly sown crop of tomatoes, squash, beans, carrots, beets, peppers—for Wei Ying, he explains—and a small herb patch.

“WangJi, though the answer is obvious to me, questions will be asked about the validity of the marriage,” xiongzhang says during a lull.

He knows he is specifically thinking of shufu, but also likely of other elders who will oppose his marriage. Short of Wei Ying’s death, there is nothing they can do—and he will ensure the former does not occur.

“It has been consummated,” he replies, and is kind enough not to add ‘repeatedly’ or ‘enthusiastically’ to the assertion, however true they are. “It cannot be annulled.”

XiChen smiles and nods, and Lan WangJi leads the way back toward the settlement so he can see the structures the Wens have built and live in.

“Honestly, the closeness I witnessed between you two made that clear,” XiChen admits. “You are rarely so free with touch, WangJi, and the intimacy you share is undeniable.”

He can feel his ears heat at his brother’s unabashed comments; this is not a discussion he expected to have, but it is undeniable that touch has become an added and welcome part of his relationship with Wei Ying. He would touch him always if it were practical. 

“We are happy, xiongzhang,” he says softly. “Despite the difficulties faced here, we are happy together. I know the elders and shufu will likely not be pleased with our union. If it becomes necessary for me to break with GusuLan—”

“Never,” XiChen interrupts, his tone forceful. “No, WangJi, didi… I will not allow them to cast you out. You have a responsibility to your spouse, one recognized by Lan Yi herself. You will always be welcome in the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan WangJi nods, grateful for his brother’s support. He knows he and Wei Ying, and likely the Wens as well, will have a supportive voice at Cloud Recesses. 

“I will, of course, visit as much as I am able,” XiChen continues. “And if shufu insists on coming, it will be with my escort, so you may rest easy on that matter. You will probably want some of your personal items from the jingshi, as well.”

Rarely does Lan WangJi feel choked up, but XiChen’s dedication to his happiness is something that has often overwhelmed him.

“Xiongzhang, I—”

He stops when the sound of loud crying fills the air, coming from the Demon-Slaughtering Cave. Lan WangJi immediately recognizes a-Yuan’s wailing—a-Yuan, who should be napping with Wei Ying. He breaks into a run.

[oboevallis]

the watch

“You didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell me my mother was in town?” Amelia halfway shouted at Meredith in the hallway near the daycare where they just dropped their kids off.

“Well, I got busy and it slipped my mind. I’m trying to get used to you not living in the house anymore, so you don’t get all the information I have the minute I have it.” Meredith defended herself losing her patience.

“Are you mad I moved out?” Amelia asked still mad about the whole situation.

“No, it’s just an adjustment. I depended on you.” Meredith was trying to deflect her true emotions, she really missed the neurosurgeon.

“I’ll still help with the kids when I can. I’ll always be there for them don’t worry about that.” Amelia tried to reassure her sister in law.

“I know, I just m-you know never mind I have surgery. And your mother will be at my house at 7 to have dinner you better be there.” Meredith said as she walked away to go start her morning.

“Awww, were you going to say you missed me?” Amelia asked as Meredith walked away, a wave was the only thing she had gotten in return.

________________________________________________

“Mils, there is a baseball game on tonight. I know your not the biggest fan of baseball, but I was thinking the three of us could watch together. You know Scouts first viewing experience of baseball. I mean it’s nothing like when we take him to his first in real life game, but it should be a lot of fun!” Link enthusiastically said wrapping his arms around his girlfriend who was filling out a chart at the nurses station. Amelia placed the IPad into the charging slot and turned around in her boyfriends arms.

“I wish I could, but my mothers in town. So I have to go to Mer’s to have dinner with her and the kids. Even though all I want to do is watch baseball with you and our baby.” Amelia pouted.

“Oh, umm do you want me to go with you or?” Link questioned.

“No, no I already put you through enough with her.”

“Amelia you know I don’t feel that way.” Link smiled at his girlfriend.

“I know, but I will tell her about you and Scout...eventually. But there is something I need to pick up from home so I’ll come home with you two and feed Scout before I go over. Please put him to bed at a reasonable hour though.”

“Deal-io” Link smiles kissing his girlfriend.

_________________________________________________

Amelia rummaged though the jewelry box that was under the bed she shared with her boyfriend. It was a mess, necklaces tangled together, loose earrings floating about, and broken bracelets. She really had to clean it out and organize it but this wasn’t the time. Her hands then felt leather. It belonged to the watch her father owned many years ago. She shoved it into her pocket and made her way to the kitchen where her boyfriend was popping popcorn. She went up to him and kissed him.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Link asked.

“I should be asking you that. You’ve never been alone with Scout a long period of time before?”

“We’ll be just fine.” Link reassured his girlfriend giving her another kiss. “Good Luck!” He shouted as she exited their apartment. He silently prayed everything would go ok between his girlfriend and her mother and that he would be able to handle Scout.

_________________________________________________

“Auntie Amelia!” Bailey shouted as he ran to engulf his aunt in a hug almost knocking her down. She had forgotten how big Bailey was getting.

“Hey, Bails how are you doing?” She asked as she picked him up, the weight difference between him and her son catching her off guard.

“I’m good, I miss you though when are you coming home?” Bailey innocently asked.

“Well, we’ve talked about this I moved out. But I’ll still see you all the time.” Amelia said quietly hoping her mother wouldn’t hear her. In response she got an aspirated sigh from her nephew.

“Hey mom.” Amelia said walking into the kitchen and her mother engulfing her in a hug.

“It’s good to see you kiddo.” Carolyn kindly smiled to her youngest.

The family sat around the dinner table eating the dinner Meredith surprisingly prepared with Zola’s assistance. The kids were soaking up every moment of their grandmother who they didn’t see to often and when they did it was usually via video chat. Carolyn heard all about their favorite activities and how they enjoyed school. Though reminiscing Derek was the main topic of the night. The three older women shared stories about the man. All three kids soaked up every word about their father. Amelia was appreciative about that, that had distracted the kids and they didn’t ask any questions about their cousin or her boyfriend and if a question seemed like it was about to arise she would mention another story about her brother.

“Thank you very much for dinner Meredith. I think I will call a cab though and call it a night.” Carolyn said engulfing her daughter in law in a hug.

“Of course Carolyn, anytime. I can drive you if you want.” Meredith politely responded.

“Mom I’ll drive you.” Amelia suggested.

“Oh don’t worry about it.” Carolyn told her daughter.

“No it’s ok mom.” Amelia reassured her mother. She was finally able to convince her mother to let her take her to the hotel. Amelia asked if she could come in the room to talk to her mother. Which her mother complied, hiding her enthusiasm to be able to talk with her daughter. Her mother sat on the bed and Amelia situated herself in the desk chair in the room. After a couple minutes of silence Carolyn spoke up.

“Is there something you want to say dear?”

“Umm well I had a baby.” Amelia blurted out, immediately regretting it.

“I know, Addison had told me.” Carolyn said solemnly.

“Wait what? She doesn’t know?” Amelia was confused until she realized what her mother knew.

“She had called when she first found out about the pregnancy, before she knew about...And then she told me about the diagnosis and how you didn’t want me there or anyone. That was conflicting, I never knew what it was like, well at least then how it felt to lose a child I was clueless as to how to help you. So I just stayed back and pretended to be oblivious.” Carolyn admitted patting the bed next to her signal her daughter to sit next to her. Tears streamed down her face as she sat next to her mother.

“Well that’s not what I was talking about. And I don’t really want to talk about at the moment.” Amelia said as she wiped her tears and took out her phone showing her mother a picture of her living son.

“Who is this little guy?” Her mother asked gushing over the picture.

“Link and I’s son.” Amelia said smiling at the picture.

“The man you brought to dinner that night?” Carolyn questioned.

“Yeah.” Amelia said while chuckling. Carolyn stayed quiet as Amelia flipped through the baby photos.

“What’s his name?”

“Augustus, but his middle name is Scout and that’s what we’ve been calling him.”

“Can I meet him? I would also love to see Atticus again.” Her mother smiled at her daughter.

“Of course.” Amelia smiled sadly thinking about Christopher. And how he should of had the opportunity to meet her family and be happy and have so much love surrounding him like Scout was able to have. “Umm I have to give you something. I wrongly took it from you years ago and I’m truly deeply sorry.”

“Oh wow. Your fathers watch.” Carolyn was taken aback as her daughter handed her, her late husbands watch. “I thought I lost it.”

“I know and I’m very very sorry. I shouldn’t of taken it and I wish that I didn’t. It had a significant meaning to you and it was one of the only things you had left from Dad. And it also wasn’t right Derek never got to have it I’m sure dad meant for it to be passed on to Derek at some point. I was going to eventually give it to Bailey, but it’s not my place to do that.” Amelia said wiping away her tears. Carolyn sat in silence rubbing her fingers against the leather band of the watch.

“I forgive you.” Carolyn said ten minutes later, after she had processed the information she was just given.

“Mom you don’t have to forgive me.”

“Holding onto it made me upset and I think if I had it for any longer I would’ve gotten mad. What that man took from us, your fathers stubbornness, and I think that giving it to Bailey is a good decision.” Carolyn said handing the watch back to her youngest.

“Ok.” Amelia said softly wiping her tears. “Well I should get going.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Carolyn asked as she hugged her daughter goodbye.

“Yeah, I have the day off.”

“Ok I love you have a good night.”

“Love you.” Amelia said softly as she closed the door to the hotel room.

________________________________________________

“You look exhausted.” Amelia chuckled climbing into bed with her boyfriend.

“Yeah, Scout was a little more difficult on my own then I expected.” Link said kissing his girlfriend after his statement. “How was it with you mom?”

“It was good, umm she wants to meet Scout.” Amelia said playing with the neck of Link’s T-shirt.

“Ok, that’s good! Right?” Link questioned.

“Yeah, it just caught me off guard because apparently she knew about Christopher.”

“Mothers always have a way of knowing I guess.” To this Amelia chuckled in response.

“I love you.” Amelia said softly shutting off the lamp next to Link and laying down.

“I think I love you more.” Link resounded.

“Impossible.” Giggled Amelia in response to their cheesiness.