#what's the reason. read a book. sit on the grass and smell the wind blowing through the trees. feel rays of sunlight on your face

[theasstour]

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟕𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

Tuesday, 13 December 2017

Tooley Street was always busy, whether there were a horde of people walking to and from the riverside and underground, or cars driving by at a ridiculous speed. London Bridge station on the other side of the road to where Y/N and the gang sat at Caffé Nero, looked like a small insect in comparison to The Shard that reached like a pillar above the partly cloudy winter sky. The blue painted brick building beside it, The Shipwright Arms pub, was a lively addition to an otherwise very bleak street.

The winter wind by the riverside was horrendous, but Y/N had offered to come with Annalise on her cigarette break, so she had only herself to blame for exposing herself to more of the biting cold than completely necessary. From where the two were sitting, they could just make out Tower Bridge behind them, bare trees rising up along the streets that indicated summer was long gone and winter had arrived.

Y/N had spent a lot of time just sitting outside the last few days. Whether it was on a bench by Regent’s Canal, in the grass at Shoreditch Park, or at a table outside a café with a coffee in hand. She had just been sitting there, staring out at nothing. Thinking. All she had been doing since finding that watch was think.

She had tried to find some kind of logical explanation as to why that watch had the coordinates for her family’s Newport cabin, but there was none. What kind of connection did George have to Newport? To that cabin? Had he just fucked her and left it there because he knew who Y/N’s sister was? And where was George now? She had not seen him since that night in October, was he still around? Or had Y/N just missed him when he had been, and this had all just been a huge coincidence. But Y/N somehow knew, deep down, that this was far from a coincidence and she should not treat it as one.

“You have to come to Monnickendam,” Annalise said, blowing out a puff of white smoke.

Y/N looked away from a man across the street who was arguing passionately with someone on his phone. Shoving the thoughts of the watch that was laid on her desk in her room, out of her head. She had not told anyone about it, this was not something she wanted everyone to know about because she had no idea what it meant. The only person that knew was Harry, and she would like to keep it that way.

“I’ve never been to the Netherlands,” Y/N said.

“Even more of a reason to come.”

Y/N smiled. “Buzzing. I haven’t travelled much in Europe, mostly been to Brazil with my family.”

“When you come to Monnickendam, we have to take the train to, like, Germany or France. Andorra is also so beautiful, I think you’re gonna love it.”

“Make a roadtrip out of it.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N’s smile grew. “Had you been to London before you came here for school?”

Annalise brought the cigarette up to her mouth. “Loads of times.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we went here around Easter in 2012 the first time, and I fell in love. Went here four more times, then to an Open Day last year.”

Y/N nodded. “Was Helmond your first choice then? Did you like it the best?”

“No, Battersea was, but I’m happy I ended up at Helmond.” Annalise breathed out white vapour. “Helmond’s prettier.”

Y/N laughed. “The aesthetic is more important than the uni itself, innit? If you can’t take decent Instagram pictures there, what’s the point of spending the next three years at that place?”

Annalise laughed along with Y/N, taking a last drag. “I rarely use Instagram.”

“I used to. I loved to like document my life, to let all my friends and family know what I was doing at all times. But then I found Snapchat, and it’s just better.”

“You know that if you, like, save a picture or video in the Snapchat app, Snapchat owns it?”

Y/N blinked.

“At least what someone at home told me once.”

“Doesn’t Instagram do the same?” Y/N asked.

“Think so,” Annalise said, walking over to the litter and stumping her cigarette out in the ash tray on top of it. “Ground rule: don’t save anything onto social media. Anyone can save and see your pictures.”

“Basically,” Y/N mumbled, looking over at the man she had watched earlier. He was still arguing with someone over the phone.

“Ready to head back inside?” Annalise asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N got up and the two strolled back over to the Caffé Nero their three other mates were sat in. Thian, Hayden, and Chloe were all sat with their laptops in front of them and books in the centre of the table behind their screens. Chloe was talking animatedly as Y/N and Annalise approached, Hayden busy with something on the laptop in front of them while Thian sat with a book in his hands, looking at Chloe as she spoke. Y/N took off her puffer jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair as she sat down, adjusting her black V-neck jumper and loose denim jeans.

“…the problem isn’t that. The problem is the fact that they never clean up after themselves. That’s the problem,” Chloe said, groaning loudly. “And when I ask in the flat groupchat if anyone wanna be social, no one answers. I swear, all of them hate me.”

“Maybe they’re just busy,” Thian suggested.

“They always say that, but I know two of the boys are in Dave’s room playing something on that PlayStation.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “Should I learn how to play FIFA?”

“You don’t have to impress them,” Y/N said, turning her laptop back on to finish the essay for Critical Reading that was due that Friday.

“No, I know. But if I want to hang out with anyone in my flat, I gotta do something. What games do you play in the PlayStation, Thian?”

Thian stared at Chloe for a second, mouth working before he mumbled, “I didn’t bring one to uni.”

“Alright, then what did you play at home?”

“Call of Duty.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t that a war game?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I’m not into that.” Chloe grimaced, looking at something further away. “I’ve never really played PlayStation. One of the blokes I dated in college gamed a lot, but I couldn’t be asked to sit around and just watch.”

“The three in my flat play GTA,” Y/N said. “At least that’s what Nathan wants to play, Harry and Mason just go along.”

Chloe’s face instantly lit up. “Oh, my word, Y/N. You have to make Harry teach me how to play something on the PlayStation.”

There was a slight pang in Y/N’s chest at the sound of his name leaving Chloe’s lips in that way. Y/N opened, then closed her mouth, then opened it again. “I don’t really hang out with them when they play it. I’ve had so much to do these past months.”

“That’s fine, Nathan can keep us company,” Chloe said, leaning back in her seat. “Make Mason come, too. God-“ She grinned, letting her head fall between her shoulder blades. “-Your flatmates are fit.”

“Harry’s fitter than Mason,” Hayden chimed in.

“No, definitely Mason,” Annalise said.

“I can’t choose. Depends on my mood,” Chloe mused.

Thian kept quiet, staring pointedly at his laptop.

“Can you do it? Make them teach me?” Chloe begged, sticking her bottom lip out at Y/N.

Y/N took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

Chloe grinned.

“They might be busy, too. Might not get to it till after Christmas break.”

Chloe waved her hand. “That’s fine. I just want to hang out with someone from my flat eventually.”

Y/N glanced down at her laptop again, trying to forget the conversation she had just had with the other three. Chloe continued chattering on about something of no significance, Y/N did not care to listen as she wanted to finish her essay before she had to leave for home coming Saturday. Though her coffee was cold now as she took a sip of it, Y/N still appreciated the taste of caffeine. It woke her up, made her more alert and focused.

Ever since she was seven years old, her papai had made her coffee to drink. He always said “coffee is as vital to a Brazilian’s existence as tea is to a Brit’s” and she had drunk it ever since. She loved the taste of it much more than tea, but seeing as tea was much easier to make, she had come to resort to it here in London. Home in Nottingham, there was always a brew in the making or one ready for whoever felt like having a cup, made with a proper coffee machine that Davi had invested proper money in. He had bought it back in 2001, and it worked just as well as it did back then. Y/N, like her papai, loved the coffee from that old coffee maker more than anything else. She could not wait until she was home with her parents so she could drink proper coffee all the time without going to the nearest coffee shop to do so. The instant coffee Nathan often made smelled and tasted rank, Y/N would have no other coffee than her papai’s and a cup made at a coffee shop.

“I’m gonna go buy a muff,” Hayden said, getting up from their chair. “This essay is doing my head in, I need something to sooth the pain.”

“Oh, could you buy me a scone?” Thian asked, putting his hands together as if he was begging on his knees. “I’ll pay with five stellar knock knock jokes.”

“Make it six.”

“Deal.”

The two shook hands and Hayden grinned as they looked at the other three. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Y/N and Annalise chuckled. “No thanks,” Y/N said, Annalise saying the same thing.

“No, I’ll just add to this,” Chloe said, patting at her stomach.

“Add to what?” Hayden asked.

“A belly.” Chloe gripped the little that was protruding from her tight denim jeans. “I’m trying to start working out for bikini season, to remove that extra uni weight, you know?”

Hayden looked absolutely lost, so did Thian, and Annalise looked to not be paying any attention at all. Y/N, however, felt a familiar pang in her chest. It was a small explosion she had felt before, one that would taint the rest of her day. Instinctively, she put her scarf around her chest, letting it fall over her stomach.

Hayden did not comment, instead they just walked up to the till, ready to tell the lady working there their order. The table fell silent, but not for the reason Y/N wanted it to. No, they were all just busy with their essays. Y/N knew that it would be impossible for her to concentrate on the assignment now that the only thing she would be thinking about for the rest of the day was Chloe’s comment. Chancing a look over at her friend, she saw her flicking through a book in her lap, completely unbothered, Annalise was cocking her head to the side as she wrote something on her Mac, while Thian was watching Hayden pay for their food. None of them had batted an eyelash. Which was nothing new, Y/N was used to no one picking up on covered up fatphobic comments.

She knew that Chloe had not said those things with her in mind, that the statement had been about her own body only. But Y/N could not help but feel the comment in her very soul. She could remember her mates from school in Nottingham making comments similar to that one, so hearing it wasn’t alien, but it stung as much as hearing it that first time.

“Here we go,” Hayden said, putting the scone down on Thian’s keyboard.

“Scones are so bloody good,” Thian moaned, taking a huge bite out of his. “If we had to fuck a food, I’d fuck scones.”

The table went quiet, all looking at Thian. He just continued on eating, humming some Alesso and Conor Maynard song that was always playing on the radio.

“Why did you just say that?” Hayden asked.

“Felt like sharing my thoughts with the class.”

Hayden raised their eyebrows before looking at the laptop in front of them. “The class did not need to know.”

Thian shrugged his shoulders and Annalise laughed, Chloe joining in after a little while. Y/N smiled at them, but her thoughts still drifted back to Chloe’s comments just a minute earlier. She spread her scarf out over her stomach, wishing she had worn something that wasn’t so tight fitted.

Friday, 15 December 2017

“Sorry we’re late,” Mason said as him and the rest of the rugby team streamed into the seminar room. Hayden, Y/N, Thian, Chloe, Annalise, Nathan, and Annalise’s two friends were all sat around one table, already having started a round of Uno.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hayden smiled. “I’ve put Uno decks on the other tables.”

“Cheers.”

Mason and the rest of the team sat down, all chatting amongst themselves and letting go of heavy sighs as they took their seats. It was clear that the last training session for the team this year had not only been cold, but also immensely tiring. They all looked very ready to travel home for Christmas break, and it looked like a few already had.

Y/N felt their struggle with the cold. She herself was wearing a mini linen skater dress in black. The skirt was loose, making it comfortable to hide her belly in – she had not stopped thinking about Chloe’s comment all week, but it would not stop her from looking really fucking good – and the waist was open, baring some of her skin and rib tattoo to everyone. Her skin protruded around the straps that were wrapped around her waist, connecting her skirt from her top, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she just tried to stay out of Chloe’s vision. The plunge neck revealed a very deep cleavage and skin, making it so Y/N had put on two silver necklaces to top of the outfit. The rest of the top had long sleeves and a nice collar, which was why Y/N had bought the dress. It was slutty, but in a modest way.

The rest of the gang around the table had also dressed up, ready to go out after this. They all had their last lecture of the semester today, meaning that their Christmas break had just started, and they wanted to celebrate before everyone travelled to their separate locations the next day. Chloe to Oxford, Thian to Bristol, Hayden to Sheffield, Annalise to Monnickendam, and Y/N back home to Nottingham. It would be weird not to meet up with them, to not go to lectures and stress about assignments for the next month. Then again, Annalise had made a Snapchat and Messenger group to ensure that the gang would talk every single day. And knowing her mates, Y/N was sure they would.

During a break between rounds, Y/N got up from their table after making sure that her polyamide shorts underneath her dress didn’t roll down her stomach. She wore them to prevent chafing, knowing that if she did not wear them underneath her skirt, it would be hard for her to wear anything the next day. She did the zip of her chunky sock boots before making her way over to Mason’s table.

“Alright, Y/N?” Mason said as she came closer, giving her a small smile.

“How’re you lot finding the society?” she asked, looking around the table, meeting Kai’s eyes.

Kai beamed. “Good, it’s nice to spend some time with the whole team off the rugby pitch.”

“You’re dressed up,” Mason pointed out. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uno Society.”

Mason smiled. “Trying to pull some rugby players, are ya?”

“No. No, rugby players.”

Mason only raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her, smile widening.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just as unbearable as Harry sometimes.”

“Nah, Harry’s worse than me.”

“Right.” Y/N took a big breath. “Chloe over there, the blonde,” Y/N said, motioning behind her with a nod of her head. Mason’s gaze immediately fell on Chloe. “She’s wondering if you and Harry can teach her how to play the PlayStation.”

Mason blinked, looking over at Kai as the bigger man clapped his hands together before laughing.

“Is that funny?” Y/N asked.

“No, it’s not. I just knew Kai would react like that,” Mason said. “But I’ll do it. After Christmas at some point.”

“Nice, I’ll tell her that, then.”

“Why does she need someone to teach her how to play PlayStation?” Kai asked, and though there was laughter in his voice, Y/N could tell his question was sincere.

“Some blokes in her flat never want to be social, they just stay in this one room playing PlayStation, and she’s kinda left out ‘cause she doesn’t really know how to play.”

“That might not work out,” Kai said, smiling still.

“Worth a shot, either way.”

“Maybe she just wanna spend time with this hunk,” Kai grinned, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Or the other hunk that’s not here.”

“Speaking of him,” Y/N said, putting a hand on her hip. “Not that I care, but where is he?”

Kai grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t care? Not at all?”

“No, Y/N doesn’t like Harry much,” Mason explained, completely unbothered. “He’s working. The team’s popping by The Stag’s Head later to check on him since it’s his last shift and all that.”

Y/N nodded, suddenly remembering how Harry had told her that a few weeks ago.

“What’s the bellend done to you?” Kai asked.

“Another time, Kai. We’re in the middle of a round,” Mason said. “I’ll find a day that’s good for Chloe to come over.”

“Wicked,” Y/N smiled. “See ya.”

“Later, mate.”

Y/N walked back to her table, sitting down in her seat again. “Sorry,” she said when Hayden gave her a look. “Chloe, Mason said he could teach you how to play PlayStation sometime after Christmas break.”

Chloe squealed. “Really?!”

“Yeah, he’ll text me saying when.”

“Ahh! Buzzing!”

Y/N gave her a smile before the gang went back to playing.

Though she was physically present over the next hour or so, Y/N’s mind travelled back to the flat and the watch on her desk. Besides assignments, Christmas, and what Chloe said on Tuesday, that was all Y/N had spent her time thinking about. She would be in bed, about to go to sleep, then just get out of her bed and look at the watch, study it carefully. Maybe there was another message of sorts on it, maybe she was supposed to do something with it. But other days she did not want to touch that watch. There was something about it, something about how it had just been left in her possession so casually, something about the fact that she had not seen George since that night, that did not sit right with Y/N at all.

Throughout the rest of the night, after the Uno Society, while the gang was sat at a pub, and then dancing at a club later, Y/N could not bring herself to enjoy herself thoroughly. All her energy went back to that watch. She wanted to understand what it meant, why George had it, and what she was supposed to do with the information. Was she even supposed to do anything at all? It only made her want to travel down to Newport even more. She had to now. Her parents might think about getting rid of that cabin, but Y/N had to revisit it one last time before that happened.

Y/N did not drink that night; she was afraid of the conspiracy theories she would form if she did. She had one cocktail at the pub they went to, but could not do more than that, and her mates did not ask questions as to why she was not drinking, something she really appreciated. It was late when she announced she would be going home, and so she called Nathan and made him stay on the line with her as she took the tube back to Haggerston Station. Once she reached Orsman Road, she could hear his snores on the other end, and hung up halfway down the road to the flat. However, in the distance, she saw a stag’s head sign hanging out on a metal pole, protruding from the building opposite her flat building. She suddenly remembered what Mason said, and crossed the road, making her way over to the pub.

A small group of lads made their way out of the pub as Y/N reached it, the last one holding the door for her. She smiled and thanked him before walking inside. Now that she wasn’t affected by alcohol, Y/N was finally able to take in the pub properly without having the slight haze of alcohol taint it. The lights were comfortably dimmed, not too much so you could not read the menu, but just enough so that a person’s facial features would be a tad blurry. The red that ran along the wall behind the dark bar counter was subtle, giving the bar a sense of holding onto the secrets of each person who walked through the front doors, like a Victorian murder mystery. Y/N could see Sweeney Todd’s barber shop trapped in the same colours.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man walking out from behind the counter said, grey hair and broad shoulders. “We’re closed.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around the dark pub. “I… I thought I might find Harry here.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little. “He’s got a new girlfriend? So soon after the other ones?”

Y/N felt herself narrow her eyes back at the man. Girlfriend? Harry’s had girlfriends – plural – since he started working in The Stag’s Head? There was a very strange combination of a lot of different feelings that swarmed around Y/N’s body, suddenly making her feel seasick. She was about to abort her mission, to say she would just catch Harry at home, when there came a voice from the door leading out into the smoking area.

“Y/N,” Harry said, turning the lights off outside and closing the door. It looked as if he could not quite believe his eyes as he saw her standing there, like he had not thought she would ever show up to his work like this. Without seemingly able to help himself, his green eyes fell down to her green dress and her exposed legs. He quickly looked to his other co-worker, clearing his throat as he walked behind the pub counter. Y/N could swear she saw a slight pink hue to his cheekbones.

“I’ll leave if you’re busy.”

“No,” Harry said, the word coming out a little too quickly as if desperation got the better of him. “No. Not busy.”

The grey-haired man raised his eyebrows at Harry. He must have seen something in Harry’s demeanour, because he said, “You’ll be alright to close up on your own?”

Harry smiled. “It’ll be a nice way to end my time at Stag’s Head.”

“Nice,” the man Y/N now suspected was Harry’s boss, said. “Pop by with the keys tomorrow, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man gave both Harry and Y/N a smile each before he started on his walk up to his office. The pub was suddenly very quiet, not a single sound came from inside, just the distant siren outside and the low buzz of the city. A place that was usually bustling with noise, energy, and anticipation, was now left with the latter. Y/N looked around the place, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was only her and Harry there. Harry watched her, picking up the Cif spray from where it stood under the counter. She felt his gaze on her as she walked along the booths, touching the red velvet cushions, a rush of goosebumps travelling up her spine at the knowledge that she had his full attention.

She turned around, leaning her bum against a table as she took in the liquor behind Harry. He was washing the counter, looking over at Y/N again, eyes falling to her mid-area that was expanded slightly at the pressure the surface behind her was providing. He quickly looked away again, biting his lips together as he focused on the counter in front of him. Y/N could not help a small smile.

“What made you show up to my work, then?” he asked.

“Can’t a friend show up to another friend’s work?”

Harry let out a strangled chuckle. “Alright. That’s very nice of you, but I don’t buy that for a single second.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“There’s gotta have been another reason as to why.”

“Okay…? What’s that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulder, spraying more Cif onto the counter. “You were bored. You didn’t want to be around your other mates any longer. You wanted to see a delicious man with an irresistible Northern accent clean up a pub since it’s his last shift ever here tonight.”

Y/N let out a laugh, placing her hands on either side of the table beside her. “None of the above.”

“Alright,” Harry said, coming out from behind the pub. “What didn’t I cover?”

“You weren’t at the Uno Society meeting.”

The answer came so effortlessly, as if her subconscious had been holding onto the answer for Y/N until she was strong enough to know the real reason. Her hands instantly gripped the table harder, feeling embarrassed for admitting vulnerability so easily. She blamed how easy it was to talk to him, how he just seemed to throw a lasso around her deepest secrets, her most private desires, and drag them out of her.

Harry looked over at her from where he was cleaning the tables a bit further away in the pub. “Had work. Would’ve been there if I didn’t have to be here.”

She nodded, looking down at her black boots. For some reason, his words warmed something inside her. Hearing someone care about something she cared about made her feel special. Then again, someone she just met on the street could tell her they hated Marmite, something Y/N also did, and she would feel equally as fuzzy inside. Finding small bonds, small preferences, small somethings that connected you to other people, made you feel like you weren’t alone, but it also made you feel special, made you feel seen and understood. It was as if someone opened a door into their soul, and giving you a warm handshake, welcoming you into them and their life.

“The lads had a blast,” Harry said, now closer to Y/N as she had zoned out for a minute and some.

“They did?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to just sit down and relax like that. We don’t really get to do that.”

Y/N watched as Harry hovered by a table, leaning over it to clean it. His black tee shirt stretched over his broad back, his shoulder blades visibly working as he ran the cloth over the table in front of him. The outline of his muscles, the way they were so hard against the soft fabric of the tee shirt, made Y/N’s body feel very hot all of a sudden. He worked so carefully, sliding his hand holding the cloth so slowly over the table, paying it his undivided attention. She adjusted her position against her table, looking away from Harry as he stood back up, his black trousers that had been tight around his buttocks, slacking at the lack of pressure on the material. Get a fucking grip, Y/N screamed at herself in her head, focusing on the wall in front of her. She saw Harry look at her over his shoulder, gaze lingering on her for a few seconds. Y/N suddenly found it very hard to draw a proper breath.

“You’re mad I didn’t show up?” Harry asked.

Y/N was silent, her brain completely blank. “Didn’t show up…?”

She could see his smug smile in her peripheral vision. “Yeah.”

“To what?”

His smile widened and he focused on a table closer to her. “The Uno Society.”

She closed her eyes. Her checking out Harry while he had his back to her had not just made her forget the whole reason why she had showed up to The Stag’s Head in the first place. His body looking the way it did, him caring about the society, him teasing her to get a reaction out of her… Why the fuck did he have that effect on her?

“No,” Y/N said, refusing to look at him still. “I’m not mad.”

“Then why won’t you look at me right now?”

Y/N could feel her hands instinctively grabbing harder onto the table behind her. “No reason.”

“You know,” Harry started, she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You can try all you want, but I still know you.”

She huffed. “You wish.”

“I don’t gotta,” he said, chuckling a little. “Don’t gotta wish when I already do know you. Wish I knew you better, wish you’d just open up to me like you did so easily before, but that’s for a later time.”

That made her look over at Harry, her eyebrows drawn together as she just watched him clean yet another table. He… Did he really think she would one day open up to him again and they would go back to being friends like they used to? Was he really that optimistic? Had he thought about it? About them and their friendship? And what a future with her alongside him at uni would look like? Her eyes landed on his bicep as it flexed, holding his body weight as he leaned against the table again. Her gaze following his arm all the way down to his hand, long slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and the thick veins over the dorsal part of his hand made something in Y/N’s brain short circuit. That along with the casual way he was leaning his hips against the table, staring down at it with his head cocked.

What the fuck, Y/N said to herself again, looking away from him. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! How was she supposed to stay neutral, to not find him attractive, to not want to sink right back into old habits when she allowed herself to study him and look at him like that. She had to stop. This was getting out of hand.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight,” Harry said, working slowly as he cleaned up the table in the booth beside the one she was stood leaning against.

“No, I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“What things?”

Your broad shoulders. Your hands. The way you stick your tongue out of your mouth when you are concentrating. But Y/N said none of those things, as doing so would sentence her to a lifetime of humiliation.

“Insignificant things.”

“When they’re taking up a lot of space in your head and preventing you from being present, they’re not insignificant,” Harry said, sounding a little serious all of a sudden. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing inherently bad on my mind, just… I’ve got a lot of… thoughts,” Y/N said, not knowing how else to explain it without giving something away.

“What thoughts?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Thought you did Architectural Studies, didn’t know you also had a degree in being Nosy.”

Harry let out a laugh, coming to stand in front of her with the spray and the cloth in his hands. “I’m very nosy.”

“Glad to hear you’re self-aware.”

“But right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Bloody hell, Y/N thought, could he just fucking stop being so nice? So fucking adorable? And fit? It made hating him so much harder than it already was.

“I’m okay.”

He took a step closer. “What’s been on your mind then?”

“Just… life.”

“Has uni exhausted you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Harry took another step closer. Y/N’s palms were suddenly very clammy.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked again, a small smile on his lips as if he was challenging her.

“Maybe you just have to face the fact that I won’t tell you and you can’t figure it out on your own.”

“Nah,” Harry said. “I’ll figure you out.”

Y/N watched as Harry took another step closer, her heart suddenly beating very fast inside her chest.

“I just gotta…” He trailed off, now standing directly in front of her. Tip of his shoes against the tip of hers. Without a warning of sorts, he leaned closer, bending over her until his head hovered beside her own. Chest wavering above hers, touching as she drew in a precipitous breath and he did the same. Their bodies did not brush against one another again, an invisible, burning shield was built to keep them apart the second their upper bodies made contact. As if the universe was telling them that by touching like that, the world would go up in total flames around them.

Harry’s sudden closeness made her breathe in a little too harshly, she was sure he must have heard it but she simply did not care. The reaction her body was having to him being so close was electric, it made all the hairs on her body stand on end. She didn’t know what he was doing that close to her, thinking at first that he must have wanted to whisper something in her ear, to say something to her that would undoubtedly make her glad she was leaning against something solid for support.

But she heard the familiar sound of the Cif spray, and a second later, Harry reached his cloth behind Y/N’s back, cleaning the table. She felt his breath against her neck, triggering something radioactive inside her. The oud aroma of his cologne, with notes of cedar, patchouli, and spicy saffron filled Y/N’s nostrils. In those seconds when Harry hovered above her like that, his warm body inches from hers, breath fanning against her skin, his aroma, and aura mere inches from hers, Y/N was conflicted as to if she wanted time to speed up or slow down some more. She knew that if she stayed like that, with Harry so close to her, for much longer she would go absolutely mad and have an impossible time resisting him if he were to try something like he had done in the living room the week before.

No sooner had she thought that, he pushed off, face lingering just centimetres from hers. “I just need to take a look,” he said, speaking as if he did not mind if the whole world was watching them. He raised his hand, about to touch her chin. For what reason, Y/N did not know, but she didn’t ask any questions. However, he stopped, as if touching her was something he could not do. Y/N was glad he hadn’t, because God knows how her body would have reacted had he tenderly touched her jawline like it looked like he wanted to.

“Take a look?” Y/N mumbled.

“At you.”

A small breath left her lips.

“Maybe the answer to what’s been on your mind is somewhere in your eyes,” he said, eyes suddenly falling to her lips. “Or your lips.” He glanced at her forehead. “Or in the slight lines that appear between your eyebrows when you’re deep in thought.” He looked down at her hands on the table edge. “Or the way you’re gripping the table so tight right now.”

Jesus Christ, she was about to explode. Y/N let go of it immediately, standing up and forcing Harry to take two steps back. His intense glance lingered on her, falling to her lips as she opened her mouth to take a breath.

“It’s getting late,” she said, fingering the hem of her leather jacket as her heart continued to hammer away inside her chest.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Harry walked over to the next table to clean it, doing it way faster than all the other ones. Biting his lip and moving his hand with the cloth over the table as if to make up for time spent on something else, cleaning very slowly and standing too close to her.

“No, I can walk home by myself.”

“I know you’re capable of walking, but I don’t like you being out in the streets all alone late at night.”

Y/N looked over at Harry as he cleaned the last booth, seeing the determination to finish as quickly as possible.

“It’s just across the road,” she said.

“Please just let me walk you across the road, then.” Harry walked behind the bar counter, putting the cleaning supplies away.

“You make me sound like an old lady.”

“Just-“ He appeared from behind the counter. “-Wait.” He then disappeared into the backroom where he only stayed for a few seconds. Y/N would have thought that since he enjoyed working at The Stag’s Head, he would have at least lingered for a few moments to take in the last time he would ever be back there. But instead, he emerged wearing his coat, locking the door behind him, mere seconds later. He turned the lights off, and, walking over to where Y/N was standing, placed a gentle hand to her lower back, guiding her in the direction of the door that she could only barely make out in the dark. Goosebumps instantly ran up Y/N’s back and she inhaled at the pressure of Harry’s hand on her body. He held the door open for her and Y/N stepped outside, watching as Harry locked the front doors to The Stag’s Head for the very last time.

He looked around them after locking the door, checking up and down the three streets that came to a crossroad just outside the pub. Once his eyes finally met Y/N’s again he gave her the smallest smile, then motioned for her to lead the way back to their flat. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she could not find it in herself to do just that in that moment. Though it was just across the road, she very much appreciated Harry’s company back to their flat. Distance was nothing when the roads were dark and the faces of the figures walking past were left blurred by the dim streetlamps.

Harry held the door for Y/N once again, letting her be the first to enter the building. She strolled upstairs, unlocking their front door and watching as Harry gestured for her to walk on inside. The flat was dark, except for the warm yellow lights Nathan had twined around the railing of their terrace and the changing colours of the luminous Christmas tree in the living room. The kitchen was usually left in darkness, as was the rest of the flat, but since their eyes were used to night outside, it wasn’t hard to navigate their way to the stairs. They took their jackets off, and without her leather jacket on, Y/N was very aware of how much of her skin was exposed to Harry. Her dress showed off her legs, arms, and parts of her back to him, and she knew that, if he walked behind her up the stairs, he would get a good look at her bum.

She took her boots off and started up the stairs with her purse in her hand, hearing Harry make his way up them as well. If any man were to walk behind her up the stairs, Harry was one she trusted not to take the mick, to not look up her skirt and make her feel uncomfortable. But… after everything… she still didn’t want him to see her knickers. However, facing her door, she heard Harry walking up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him once he reached the first floor. What happened next happened so suddenly that Y/N barely managed to wrap her head around it before the moment was gone.

She had just turned around to face Harry when he walked up over to her. Taking a step back at the sudden closeness, she felt herself breathe in sharply as Harry’s face lingered only centimetres from her own again. Though the person standing in front of her was a man, a completely different person, something inside her brain took her back to that night when they were 16. He hadn’t been this close to her since then, had not touched her or looked at her like this since then. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and then to meet hers, wet lips parting as if the anticipation was killing him.

And Y/N had to painfully admit, it was killing her, too. As much as she had tried to fight it, it was impossible to now. She wanted Harry to kiss her. Not tenderly kiss her like you would peck a person you were in love with, or to gently rub his thumb over her cheek as a show of affection, or to hug her tight when they met up for lunch. No, she wanted him to fucking kiss her. She wanted him to grab her face and kiss her hard; desperately, needily. She wanted them to fumble to take each other’s clothes off, and for him to make up for how bad that first time together was. There was absolutely no denying it, Y/N wanted Harry. She really wanted him. All these months, all those moments spent trying to push the thought away, she simply could not anymore. There was a hunger inside her for him, but only in the sexual sense. She could never fall in love with this man, she just wanted to fuck him. And she wanted to fuck him bad.

Her own lips parted, and she looked into his eyes with an expression she hoped he could read, because she needed him to understand. Once again, Harry raised his hand, hovering between them as if he were unsure what to do with it. Fingers twitching, she could see he was conflicted, whether he should touch her cheek as it looked like he wanted to, or if he should stop himself. Y/N let her eyes fall to his hand, to tell him she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel him somewhere, anywhere on her. Just looking at him, she could see he wanted the same as her. He wanted to feel her body, to explore it in a completely different way to last time.

Harry’s hand fell out of view, and just as Y/N thought he was going to let it hang limply, uselessly, at his side, she felt something on her waist. A warm pressure, snaking around the black linen of her dress. She waited for him to pull her closer to him, for their torsos to connect, but it never happened.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, eyes falling to her lips again.

She did not answer, instead just tilted her head so it would be easier for him to kiss her. With her eyelids hanging low over her eyes, her body language not showing any sign of protesting, and with her lips parted, Y/N hoped the message was coming across clearly. Harry leaned in closer, his nose almost touching hers. Her heart was beating so fast and hard it hurt. Her hands were clammy. All her attention focused on Harry and the electricity they created on that spot where his hand rested. He leaned down, lips hovering just over the crook of her neck, making her close her eyes. Breath against the hair of her shoulder, lightning shooting up Y/N’s back. He slowly leaned back out again, nose hovering beside hers. The anticipation was absolutely killing her.

“I…” But he drifted off, eyes falling to her lips again. She could feel his breath on her mouth, could smell his cologne. The tension was making her dizzy, she just wanted him to bloody kiss her already.

She was just about to do it herself when she felt his warm hand drop off her waist. She blinked, and the next second, Harry took a step back. He only looked at her, mouth working as if he was trying to find the right words to say, but there were none. So, as if blinking himself awake from a sort of dream, he took another step back. Suddenly, he opened the door into his room. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at Y/N. Again, he tried to say something that must have died on the tip of his tongue, because again, he did not utter a word. It looked like he physically could not say them out loud. Instead, he closed the door, leaving Y/N standing alone out in the dark hallway.

Y/N’s eyes rested on the door to the bathroom, trying to go over in her head where it had just happened. Had… Had Harry just walked away just now? Had he teased her in the pub, then done almost the same just now, only to walk away? What had gone wrong? Why had he not kissed her? What had made him step away? What had made him stop? Y/N could not answer a single one of the questions, and she doubted Harry would give her any. She closed her eyes, resting her head against her door behind her. This was exactly why she had not wanted to live with Harry, this was why she had not given in to his charms and flirts before. Now, because of what had just happened, because of how awkward that had just been, they were back to square one. Just living under the same roof as him infuriated her. She could not fucking stand Harry Styles.

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[aminiatureworld]

Melusine

Characters: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,221

Warnings: Brief depiction of pseudo-drowning

Premise: In which the reader’s somewhat inexplicable fear of water prompts questioning

Author’s Note: This prompt reminded me of the book (and series) The Tail of Emily Windsnap, which, if you haven’t read at least the first book, you totally should read as it’s just really a wonderful read. The descriptions of the ocean are especially atmospheric. Anyways, as for the prompt, I had a lot of fun. I tried to write a mermaid story in middle school and while it didn’t go that well I have a lot of nostalgia for the mermaid genre. Though this was more about the discovery than actually being a mermaid.

Also the title is a pseudo-historical reference.

Albedo

The first time it had happened Albedo had brushed off the whole incident as completely explainable. After all, it wasn’t as if you hadn’t explained what had happened.

You two had been sitting on one of the craggy hills of the Whispering Woods, you sprawled on the grass, Albedo attempting to paint a landscape of Mondstadt, one of the more ambitious paintings in his current portfolio. Especially since he had traded his more opaque oils for the gentler tones of watercolors. At one point he must have made some sort of noise of frustration, for you lifted yourself out of the shade and made your way over to the canvas.

“That looks absolutely lovely Albedo!” Your smile had always had a calming affect on the alchemist, and this time was no different. Albedo could feel the tension slowly leeching away from his shoulders.

“Do you think so? I’m afraid that I still can’t handle all the odd shadows the buildings cast.”

“The buildings look perfect to me! Though if you feel that way, maybe you could lighten the side facing the sun a little more instead of darkening the area over here? So the shade doesn’t become too muddy.”

“You have a wonderful eye, you know,” Albedo replied, smiling at the way your mind had immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had drawn as well. Reaching for the bowl of water next to him Albedo went to water his brush a little more before trying again.

Unfortunately that’s when things appeared to have taken a turn for the wrong. Instead of reaching over the bowl Albedo’s elbow collided with the glass. Though the grass was soft and close enough to prevent any damage, that didn’t stop all the muddied water from spilling out over the brim and right over you. You let out a sort of squeak, and for a moment Albedo though it was just the initial shock, but then the expression on your face came into view and Albedo could immediately sense you were seconds away from panic.

“Is something wrong?”

“I, I don’t like water very much,” you let out a strained laugh. “I just, I don’t know. I really, really don’t like water.”

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo immediately replied.

Taking off his coat he did his best to dry you off, wiping off your arms and attempting a valiant effort with your now sopping clothes. Though you assured him that it would be alright the alchemist could sense those were only platitudes, and it wasn’t until you seemed significantly calmer that Albedo turned to pick up the bowl and refill it in Cider Lake. And though a part of his mind wished to delve deeper into what had happened he pulled himself back, figuring it wouldn’t help you if he was suddenly enquiring over something you were afraid of.

Now perhaps that should have been the long and the short of it, but the revelation had begun to make Albedo see water everywhere and, more importantly, see how much it appeared to affect you every time you appeared to come in close contact with it.

Thankfully you didn’t seem to have trouble with water in glasses, at least as long as someone was actively drinking it. If not however you would glance at the glass every so often, as if it were your mortal enemy, waiting to catch you off guard to it might tip its contents all over your clothes. Other things, like obsessively drying your wands after washing them and draping layers of towels over your shoulders when you washed your hair, also became apparent. Suddenly Albedo couldn’t stop noticing your discomfort, and the more he noticed the more he wished he could do something about it.

“Exposure therapy?”

“Yes.”

You were sitting on Albedo’s desk, leaning slightly over your partner, a slightly bemused look on your face. It had been about three weeks since the incident, and finally Albedo thought he might have found some sort of solution to your problem. Now he eagerly pressed forward, figuring you’d understand once he’d explained everything fully.

“I know that it might seem counterproductive to subject you to what gets a frightened reaction out of you, but if you subject a person to something they’re afraid of in very small doses over a long period of time, usually they begin to feel a little less afraid of the thing in question. It’s sort of like how you can sometimes make allergies less serious by slowly exposing the patient to more and more of the allergen.”

“I understand where your line of thought is coming from Albedo, but I’m really not sure if this is the best idea for me.”

“I know that it might seem daunting at first. I would not bring up the topic if you didn’t seem so miserable sometimes. I worry that you might become so unhappy by your fear that it will become debilitating eventually. That is why I decided to bring up the option.”

“I really appreciate you going out of your way to think about me Albedo. I really do. I think what you’re trying to do is very kind and noble of you. But in all honesty I don’t think that’s going to work. You see, the way my fear works, I just don’t think that exposure is going to make it go away.”

“Are you sure?” Albedo pressed on, still hoping that you might see the benefit in what he was suggesting. “It won’t start with something drastic I promise. And at the end of the day, I think that it will help a lot.”

“I understand that, I really do, but like I said my fear doesn’t work that way.” You paused, as if sensing the sinking of your partner’s heart, before smiling slightly. “If it makes you feel any better I promise to give it some more thought. Alright?”

“Thank you,” Albedo replied, though in his mind he knew that you thinking about it probably wouldn’t change anything.

Thus the cycle continued, with Albedo growing more and more uneasy. He didn’t bring it up with you again, sensing it would be walking over some invisible line, but still his mind whirled in trying to understand what you meant. If your fear wasn’t simply irrational, then surely something must have happened once. Though the alchemist didn’t pry, surely if you wanted him to know you would tell him in your own time, he had to admit that sometimes his brain went off on various daydreams, as if trying to decide for itself what might have happened.

As it turned out, Albedo didn’t have to speculate for long. Nor did the truth come out the way that he had expected.

You two were on the very small dock at Cider Lake, checking the rafts were tied down properly before the beginning of the stormy season that wreaked havoc through Mondstadt once every year. Though normally you probably would have never done such a thing the Guild was spread thin, preparing for storms, though not nearly as fierce as Dvalin’s winds, that would blow shingles off roofs and destabilize the occasional out of place rock on the wall. As of such the task of shielding the boats used to carry supplies from the City to the larger Mondstadt region had fallen to you. Albedo had tagged along, knowing how uncomfortable the experience might make you feel, and unwilling to leave you alone in a state of anxiety.

“These remaining boats are the ones we need to tie down. They’re too big to be stored in the sheds inside the City.”

“I see,” Albedo replied, already moving to nail the tarp down on one of them as you secured the roping. Already the air seemed alive with the fresh smell of impending rain.

“It’s too bad really, we can’t guarantee these boats’ safety the way we can the others. Thankfully these ones are mostly insured by the Knights. Though really maybe we should build a larger shed,” you mused to yourself, keeping up the tell-tale stream of conversation that Albedo knew you used to distract yourself.

“Perhaps you can make a query via the Guild?”

“Perhaps,” you mused. “Or I might be able to ask Amber.”

Albedo replied that would be a good idea, turning to put another temporary nail onto the top of the longboat. All seemed alright for a moment, then there was a shriek and a terrific splashing sound. Whirling around Albedo had just enough time to find your head in the water before you seemed to seize up and your head dipped below the still crystal-clear waves.

Immediately Albedo stripped himself of his coat and dove in. Though no amazing swimmer himself the alchemist was hardly the worst at staying afloat, and even if he only knew a select few amount of swim strokes that paled in comparison to the idea of you drowning. Making his way over to you he fought the panic rising up inside of him, the part of his brain that said it would be much more difficult to rescue someone terrified of water.

However almost as soon as Albedo approached you he noticed that something was distinctly off. Firstly you didn’t seem like you were drowning, in fact you appeared quite graceful in the water, swishing softly back and forth. Secondly the reason for said grace quickly became apparent to Albedo. For in the spot where your legs should have been, indeed in the spot where your legs had been mere moment ago was something long and slightly shimmery and distinctly fish-like.

Letting his mouth fall open Albedo immediately hoisted himself up above the water, choking on the gasp of breath he had found himself taking. What was that, what in all of Teyvat was that? You were half fish. How were you half fish? Did such a thing even exist, for Albedo had certainly never heard of it! Though the alchemist later admitted that in the moment such fantasy creatures as merfolk had completely fallen out of his head, there was something distinctly different than reading about something in a book and seeing it in real life.

Dragging himself onto the shores of Cider Lake, Albedo waited for you to emerge, still breathing heavily from what had just passed. His brain seemed to shut off them, for he found himself with no questions to ask. You were a mermaid, you were simply a mermaid. There was nothing more to do or say about it.

Eventually you joined him on the beach. Albedo watched in an odd sort of fascination as your legs emerged from the scaley fin which your lower body was now made up of. For a moment individual spots of iridescent seemed to remain, but soon your limbs were back to normal, ignoring the fact that you were soaking wet.

“So now you know why I said exposure therapy wouldn’t work out,” you said, letting a grim sort of laugh escape your lips.

“You… you are a… a…”

“A merfolk, yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. “Not sure why I get stuck with the weird power that is more annoying than good but, you know, oops?”

Albedo could sense your vulnerability, but try as he might he couldn’t get the words to come out of his throat. For a moment he sat there, gasping like a fish, but finally the expression of muted misery on your face wormed its way into his brain and finally Albedo felt as if he had regained some ability to talk.

“I think it’s fascinating.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, really. And not just because this is something I’ve never experienced or seen before. Though it was really surprising, it was also wonderful. As an alchemist you study all the wonders and anomalies of nature, and in doing so you see all these differences aren’t just something to be written down, but they also beautiful. And so I think you’re really beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you replied, though you still seemed uncomfortable. “I just, yeah…”

Reaching over to find your hand in his Albedo squeezed your palm softly. For a moment you did nothing, then, slowly, you leaned your head on Albedo’s shoulder. Letting you stay there Albedo found himself wishing that he could convey all the emotions he felt in that moment to you.

“I know that it can be difficult to talk about things that you’ve kept secret, especially when you feel like they make you stand out in a bad way. But I promise, there is nothing wrong with that. And I hope if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way that I can apologize.”

“Thanks Albedo,” you murmured. “You don’t have to say sorry, but thanks anyways.”

“Always.”

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too.”

Albedo planted a soft kiss on your forehead. As the boats sat, woefully forgotten, the two of you basked in each other’s presence. For Albedo a mystery had been solved, and explanation given that, while not necessarily scientific, was certainly satisfactory. Yet at that moment he couldn’t care less about it. All he could think about was how lonely it must have been, and how, if he could help it, you would never feel isolated in your discomfort or in your secret ever again.

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

The Princess and the Knight

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Kingsley/Hughes)

Warnings: Mature themes, mention of death

Word count: 5391

A/N: I tried to fit the whole book into one chapter, so it's controlled chaos.

@cloud9in

"Where has that girl gone with my little tarts."

In the afternoon there was quite a commotion in the royal kitchen, as for some unexplained reasons, the tarts specially prepared for the royal afternoon tea, were going missing. The servants were accusing each other, pointing out which one of them was the biggest glutton or which one had recently gained the most weight. Such behavior among servants was not surprising. No one there trusted each other, but everyone knew how to pretend. It was sad, but what the king and queen do not know, they do not regret.

The truth turned out to be different and when the eldest of them, Ina, was left alone in the kitchen, she waited a moment and looked towards the window where the tarts were cooling down. The place was chosen deliberately by her, because she knew exactly how to catch thieves in the act. It wasn't long before the two little hands blindly began to reach for the treats, but this time they were caught by the older woman.

"Gotcha rascals." saying this, Ina pulled the thieves carefully through the window, discovering it was none other than her daughter and future princess. "Princess Poppy, Bea, you know very well what I think of your food escapades." even though she tried to sound threatening, her voice was very docile. She loved these children too much, even if Bea was not her own and Poppy was a future princess.

"Ina! How did you know it was us?" Bea asked innocently, grinning from ear to ear, unaware that her lips were covered in crumbs. Her little smile always made the hard work Ina had at the castle, worth it. She was proud of her, even if Bea was a little troublemaker.

The woman shook her head and laughed briefly, wiping her daughter's mouth with a tissue. "Your giggling can be heard from the hallway, I really have no idea how the rest of the servants didn't figure it out."

"The rest of them don't know us as well as you do." said Poppy, who had been sitting quietly until then. Her whole face was covered with a blush, and her eyes were fixed on the tips of her shoes. She looked ashamed of her act and this childlike innocence, caught the older woman by the heart.

A gentle smile entered Ina's face. It always surprised her how the Queen's daughter addressed her, with such respect, when she herself was higher up in the hierarchy. "You can call me Ina, princess." the woman reached into her apron for the cookies and gave them each one. "Come on, get out of here."

Bea saluted with a wide grin and, with the cookie in her mouth, pulled her friend along with her, who surprised, almost fell onto the countertop. Ina smiled to herself seeing the bond that brought the two girls together. They needed each other more than they could have hoped for, but that wasn't her story to tell.

When the two of them were outside, they looked at each other and burst out laughing thunderously, almost spitting cookie crumbs at each other. Falling on the soft green grass, they grabbed their stomachs almost unable to catch their breath. They couldn't have known that moments like this, would be worth their weight in gold.

"I need to learn to sneak better if I want to become a knight." Bea said contentedly, extending her hand toward the sky as if she had a sword in it. She looked between her fingers at the almost clear sky, imagining her parents looking at her with pride and faith.

Ever since Bea learned how to speak, she had only repeated that she wanted to follow in her parents' footsteps and become the best knight in the entire kingdom.

Unfortunately, she never got to meet them.

Her mother died in childbirth and her father died soon after, defending the honor of the kingdom. She was looked after by the eldest of the servants, Ina Kingsley. The woman always told her stories of her parents' lives, how her father was the bravest of the knights of the royal guard and her mother the best strategist.

This made little Bea feel any kind of bond with her family.

"I want to be a knight too!" cried Poppy behind her, mimicking her posture and almost falling down as the dress she was in, restricted her movements. She hated the clothes, but as a future queen, her opinion was worth as much as nothing. She knew that once she became a queen, that would have to change.

Bea giggled as she looked at her friend and nodded. "You can't be a knight. You're a princess."

Poppy rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, thrusting her breast forward. She could be anything she wanted, she was a princess after all. But as colorful as it sounded in practice it had no such benefits. Being a princess meant being locked in a golden cage, like some exotic bird.

And she couldn't wait to finally break free.

As the queen combed her hair to sleep, she always said how important it was for Poppy to get an education so she could follow in her footsteps and rule the kingdom. That wasn't what the blonde wanted, the vision of having power was never something important to her. For her, the most important thing was the moments she spent in the company of her best friend and the opportunity to change her kingdom for the better.

"I want to be a knight like you Bea, and explore the world with you."

At those words, the brunette turned towards the blonde and a radiant smile graced her lips. She was sure of Poppy like no one else, but the words she spoke touched her deeply, enough to settle a pleasant feeling in her stomach, that she hadn't felt since her father's death. In a flash, she hugged her tightly and wouldn't let go for any reason. 

A short time later, Bea pulled away from her and extended a small finger in her direction. "I, Bea Kingsley, promise to be by your side until death."

Poppy looked stunned at her friend, who was looking at her for the first time with such apparent seriousness. She felt like tears were coming to her eyes, but not of sadness, but of happiness. The way Bea was devoted to her and expected nothing in return, always grabbed her heart, even if they were still children. The brunette would always have a special place in her heart and even if it sounded selfish, she would be able to go to the ends of earth for her.

She reached out her finger and linked it with Bea's, almost choking from the happiness that was engulfing her. "I Poppy Min Sinclair promise, to be by your side until death."

The wind that was blowing around them stopped and a blissful calm descended on the world around them. Everything became meaningless as they stood like that with fingers intertwined, making their fates forever linked.

***

"Do you ever get your nose out of those books, princess?"

Poppy blinked a few times and, adjusting her glasses, looked over to where the familiar voice was coming from. She saw a wryly smiling Bea, who was in the middle of sparring with one of her friends, who was also training to become a knight. The blonde automatically ran her eyes over the girl's muscular stomach, which glistened with droplets of sweat in the sunlight, making Poppy's throat turn to a desert. Her brown hair in total disarray framed her face, sticking in places to her face reddened from exertion.

"Give her highness a rest Kingsley and focus on the fight." her companion groaned with visible annoyance on her face.

"Zoey, I would beat you even with my eyes closed." Bea bared her teeth in an even bigger smile and winked at her best friend. She managed to notice the blonde bury her face deeper into the book, before Zoey's blade sunk into her own, knocking her off balance.

"Would that mean..." replied Zoey viciously, as she slashed at Bea's legs in one motion, causing her to fall to the hard ground with a bang. She put the tip of the blade to her throat, and a smirk appeared on her face. "That you lost?"

Bea rolled her eyes, catching the hand extended towards her and efficiently rising to a standing position. Shaking off the dust, her gaze remained fixed on the blushing blonde, who continued her reading as if nothing had happened. She knew Poppy was watching her. She'd be lying if she said that wasn't her intention. The thought of the blonde watching her, put her in a very pleasant mood.

Zoey grunted significantly, reviving her in a flash.

"Let go of Kingsley, before it's too late. She's a princess and you're barely a knight." there was no malice in her voice, it was the truth in them, that hurt the brunette so badly.

But at that moment, Bea didn't give a damn

Ignoring the black-haired girl, she ran over to Poppy and with a nimble move, she squatted next to her on the bench, making the blonde's personal space no longer exist. It was their thing. Crossing their comfort zones.

"Would it hurt you if you used more grace?" Poppy grimaced, not taking her eyes off the words on the paper, which had become extremely difficult. She drew in a deep breath and it was a mistake, because the smell of the pine trees mixed with sweat hit her nostrils, almost breaking her composure.

"You love it." Bea's words were bold, and spoken in her peculiar way, almost in a half-whisper, made the hair on the blonde's arms stand up. The brunette's chest rose and fell in a rhythm, that the blonde had in her head each time she felt Bea's breast brush against her shoulder.

"I certainly do not." she grunted, trying to put some distance between her and Bea, which was nearly impossible, with the brunette's sweaty body clinging to her clothes. She was not a girl of great faith, but at this point she began to pray for her own sanity. Poppy was really trying to focus on her lecture, but in this situation her thoughts were just buzzing. The sight of Bea, sweaty from exertion, standing in the sunlight like a goddess, was carved into her memory and now she was right next to her, literally at arm's length.

Her thoughts really were unladylike at that moment.

Before she had time to say or do anything, she heard quiet snoring. Bea managed to fall asleep, snuggling into her shoulder. With a careful motion, she combed through the brunette's hair with her fingers, letting the strands fall freely over her shoulder. Even if sweaty, her hair was incredibly soft. Her face looked so peaceful that it moved something in Poppy and her face curved into a serene smile.

Maybe she do love it.

***

"I hereby knight thee Bea of the House Hughes. Lift thy sword high and use it for the glory of the Kingdom of Belvoir!" the great castle hall echoed with shrieks and clapping so loud, that they could wake the dead. People shouted the names of the new knights, not caring that their king and queen were looking at them.

Bea had waited her whole life for those words and now that it was happening, she couldn't believe it. She felt an incredible joy inside her and even something like a strange warmth, that she recognized as her parents' pride from above. Everything she had dreamed of was at her fingertips.

Everything but one thing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Poppy looking at her with the biggest smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She looked phenomenal, even if her cheeks were covered with streams of tears and her skin was reddened. Right behind her, Bea could hear her mother blowing her nose, and in that moment she was overwhelmed with pride.

Things began to look promising.

***

The ballroom was huge and there was general splendor. There was food all around. Musicians pouring out all their soul, getting people in the mood. All the inhabitants of the Belvoir kingdom were invited to the castle without exception, as tonight's feast was for everyone. Today everyone was treated as equals, regardless of their background or wealth. The king and queen would never have agreed to this, if not for the influential play of a particular blonde.

Poppy was determined to find Bea in the crowd, which seemed almost impossible in the prevailing hustle and bustle. She moved among the people with regal grace, forgetting for a moment that as a future princess, all she had to do was say one word. She found her near the snack table absorbed in conversation with her fellow knights.

"And then I told her, don't worry the hay can be easily pulled out of... Oh princess." Zoey stopped in mid sentence and bowed seeing the blonde.

Bea turned her head to see the satisfied blonde slip her hand under her arm and tug lightly on it. She looked spectacular in her ball gown and stood out among the people attending the party. Or maybe she always stood out in her eyes. Either way, Poppy looked so good, that next to her in her armor, Bea felt like a slacker.

"Can I steal her for a few moments?" even if Poppy asked, she was already in the process of dragging Bea to the parquet floor, ignoring the strange looks of people around her.

Zoey sighed deeply while leaning against the shoulder of Alex, who was standing next to her and also looked mortified. They both knew they wouldn't be able to protect Bea, but they could always hope that the brunette herself would mature enough, to see that the feelings she had for Poppy, weren't enough to form a relationship.

"One of them is going to end up with a broken heart."

Poppy's laughter echoed around the room as she twirled in the embrace of the equally contented brunette. Her dress rose and fell freely, mesmerizing anyone who looked at her. Bea, despite the uncomfortable outfit, tried her best to fit the blonde. She didn't even realize that it wasn't the clothes that always made them fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Bea was aware of the stares people were giving them. Some jealous, some just outraged how a princess could dance with a mere knight. She tried her best to ignore them, but one look in particular made her hair stand on end.

"I get the impression that Lord Carter feels like poking my eyes out with the spoon he's currently eating." Bea arched Poppy's body, by tilting her back slightly and letting her see exactly what she was talking about.

Poppy just shrugged her shoulders, completely ignoring the murderous look the man was giving them. Focusing her attention only on the brunette in front of her, she leaned towards her mysteriously, making the whole room cease to exist for them.

"Meet me at our place, when the moon is at its highest point in the sky." with those words on her lips, Poppy bowed elegantly and with a hypnotizing sway of her hips, she walked off in the opposite direction, leaving confused Bea alone with her thoughts. 

***

Besides the crickets, the silence was pierced by the clatter of hooves on the grass bathed in moonlight. The horse was being ridden by none other than Bea, who with curiosity and undisguised excitement was heading for the place where she would meet Poppy. She slowed down her horse, as she began to see a silhouette sitting with its back to her in the distance, under a familiar tree. 

"Poppy." she said as if to make sure it was definitely her. When the blonde turned toward her and gave her one of her smiles, her heart beat harder. "What is the meaning of..." her words were interrupted when the blonde closed her mouth in a sloppy kiss.

Instinctively, she reached for the blonde's waist, catching it and earning a quiet moan of approval from her throat. On the one hand, she felt an incredible warmth growing inside her, and on the other, a slight embarrassment about the whole situation. When Poppy pulled away from her, they were both red and breathless.

"Where did you even learn that?" the brunette asked, trying to calm her breathing. She touched her lips with her fingertips and felt a slight pain, and for some reason, it was pleasant feeling.

"I read about it in a book." Poppy said without taking her eyes off the brunette still touching herself on her lower lip. It wasn't a lie. When she was old enough, she found books in the library, about love and passion, that she had never known before. With each novel she read, the desire to experience it grew in her, and slowly she began to understand, that what the characters felt, she felt herself.

Bea looked at Poppy with undisguised interest. She felt that this kiss was just a foretaste of what she could experience, but she wasn't sure, if she was ready for it. And worse, she didn't want to disappoint Poppy with her lack of experience. "Show me more." she said, before she could bite her tongue.

Poppy perked up upon hearing those words and her eyes grew misty. She bit her lower lip, as she brought her lips close to the skin on the brunette's neck. She could feel the girl standing in front of her shaking all over, so for reassurance she grabbed her hand with one hand and placed the other on her neck. The contrast between Poppy's hot hand and the cool skin of Bea's neck was incredible, which aroused the blonde even more.

She pressed her lips carefully against her skin, feeling the brunette's pulse quicken instantly. A quiet whine came to her ears that felt like music to her. Faster and faster, a lust was building in her body, which she fought off with increasing difficulty. She felt as if she had been waiting for this moment all her life, right there with Bea, in the clearing, where they shared every bit of news, good or bad, with each other.

When Poppy pressed in a little harder, Bea's legs gave way under her and she pulled them both to the ground, her body lessening the momentum with which Poppy would have hit the ground. After a moment of silence, they both burst out laughing, just as they used to do when they were children. This time, however, Bea slipped her hand into the blonde's hair, causing her to fall instantly silent. The air was getting heavier and heavier and the unspoken words were begging to come out.

"Let me make love to you tonight."

It was hard to tell which one of them said that sentence, or maybe they both did, but in the flurry of scattered clothes, only moaning and panting could be heard. They did whatever their instincts told them to do, sucking, kissing, biting, touching every newfound spot on their bodies. Whatever boundary of shame they had between them, crumbled like a house of cards, making their two bodies become one.

That night neither of them would forget for the rest of their lives.

***

"I think I love you." Bea said thoughtlessly, surprising herself with what she said. The words were rather rushed and she should have thought about them more, but in the spur of the moment, she couldn't do otherwise. Poppy's body tensed in her embrace and Bea felt the weight of the dark clouds that began to appear in the sky, on her skin

After a brief moment, Poppy got off the ground and began nervously throwing her clothes on, almost completely confusing their sides. Bea watched this with visible surprise on her face. She rose from the ground, feeling a sudden chill sweep over her entire body, and following in the blonde's footsteps, she too got dressed. She could feel the storm approaching.

"Bea..." Poppy began in a tone that froze the blood in Bea's veins. The blonde grabbed her head and dropped it low, letting strands of hair cover her face. She looked like she was trying everything to get away from the brunette, even though the she was literally standing in front of her. The air between them was getting heavier and not in that pleasant way. "I'm engaged."

Bea felt the ground slip out from under her feet. As if someone had taken her heart and thrown it to the dogs to eat. As if someone had plunged a hundred knives into her, and she couldn't just die. Whatever words she had in her head dissipated, because while she was ready for anything, she wasn't ready for this one.

They didn't speak a word to each other again that night.

***

"I'm so sorry about your mother Poppy." Bea's voice was sincere despite the pain she'd been carrying inside her since that memorable night, but she loved the blonde so much that she could push away all her negative feelings, just to be there for her. She embraced her tightly and squeezed her petite figure which was shaking from crying.

Her heart though already broken before, was breaking again as she heard the blonde's quiet sobs into her shoulder. The assassination of the queen was so unexpected, that the kingdom couldn't assimilate the situation for a long time. The king locked himself in his chamber immersed in his despair, and Poppy's future husband took care of the kingdom.

"Isn't that adorable." the brunette would recognize that hate-filled voice anywhere and her hands reflexively tightened on the blonde. She hated this man with all her might and not just because he had taken the love of her life from her, but because he was a tyrant and no one could see that but her.

"Lord Carter." she bowed trying not to contort her face too much.

"Prince Carter to you, plebeian dog." he loved hearing his voice, especially when he was oppressing the people around him. He was a devil in human skin, masquerading perfectly among the common folk. People adored him, but behind closed doors there were no more illusions. "You can speak only when asked to." 

"Carter please." Poppy begged, trying to appeal to a soft side of him, that she knew he didn't have. She couldn't idly watch as the person she loved most in the world was oppressed, just for being alive. Even though she knew it wouldn't do anything, she was aware that Bea could see that Poppy was making an effort for her. She believed that one day she would forgive her.

Bea looked at Poppy and made it clear to her that the blonde should let go of whatever she was doing. To her inner distaste, she gave in and bowed again. "Forgive me, Prince." the words burned in her throat, but she couldn't fight him alone. She looked again at the blonde, whose expression was unreadable. "I'll see you later, your highness." she turned on her heel and with a springy step began to walk away, when a loud rubbishy laugh ripped into her.

"I don't think so, lovebirds." his laugh seeped venom all the way into the brunette's bones, making her feel almost physical pain. His face looked like that of a maniac, who was preparing to commit a terrible act. "I'm sending Bea to the front, along with the rest of the knights."

Bea closed her eyes and sighed as quietly as she could. It was what she had always wanted after all, to defend the kingdom, but why did the vision of fulfilling her duty not bring her as much joy as it had as a child? She turned towards the prince and looked at him, ignoring the terrified blonde who was covering her mouth with her hand.

"You can't!" escaped Poppy's lips before she clamped her hand over her mouth again, but Carter only smiled unsympathetically and sent an icy stare in the brunette's direction.

"Well, I can. Bea as a knight has a duty to the kingdom that she is unlikely to want to break." with those words he locked her in a trap, crushing her spirit and cutting off her wings. He was aware of what he was doing, of how much he was destroying her, but it spurred him on, gave him strength to live, he fed on the suffering of others, and who would give him more of it than the would-be lover of his future wife?

Bea saluted and, ignoring the burning pain throughout her body this time, she left the hallway, leaving Poppy and Carter alone. The man turned to his future wife and slapped her on the cheek, the smack echoing through the empty room.

"You will not disrespect me in the presence of servants." he growled at her, causing her to curl even more into herself. There was not an ounce of pity in him, let alone compassion. "Your frivolity will get you both killed."

***

In the evening fog at the castle gate, Bea was unable to see anything. Even as she tried to stretch her senses to the limit, she felt as if she were limited. She hated that feeling. She hated feeling at all. She stroked the snoot of her horse, which stood beside her, waiting for the sign to set off. The only creature that remained loyal to her.

The rest of the knights were getting ready in the garrison, only she was standing guard for practically no reason. Maybe in her sick mind, she was trying to punish herself for being reckless and not thinking about the consequences. She heard a rustle behind her and not thinking much she drew her sword towards where it was coming from.

"I could have killed you." she sighed, seeing that on the end of her blade was none other than Poppy. The blonde looked exhausted and confused, but Bea was in the same state, maybe that's why she didn't feel any strong sympathy.

"Maybe you should." she spoke up calmly, not even flinching, as she felt the blade touch her throat. She was tired. So tired that the vision of life no longer mattered to her. Not when the only person she had left, was about to leave her for certain death.

Bea sheathed the sword and stepping away from her horse she approached Poppy. Without any emotion on her face, she placed her hand on the blonde's face, who involuntarily nuzzled into her. It was the first warmth Bea had felt in a long time and somewhere deep down she felt a growing longing.

The blonde sighed on the verge of crying, her breathing breaking, almost nearing the end. She tried to stay neutral but couldn't do it any longer. Without thinking much she jumped closer to the brunette and locked her lips in a kiss. She felt a momentary resistance, but Bea didn't want to fight anymore either, returning the kiss and pouring everything, she had felt during this time of being separated, into it.

"I can't..." Poppy mumbled between kisses, wanting to get something off her chest but unable to pull away from the brunette. "I can't lose you like I lost my mother." she didn't even notice when tears started to fall from her eyes. Bea carefully kissed away every single drop, making the renewed pain that was settling inside her less painful.

Bea pressed her forehead against the blonde's allowing herself a moment of weakness. She slipped her hand under her armor and took a moment to fumble around in it, pulling out a necklace. She carefully placed it on the unsuspecting blonde, who had her eyes closed in contemplation.

"It's the only thing I have left of my parents." the brunette whispered quietly, not wanting to scare Poppy. "I want you by touching this, to always feel the warmth of my touch. By looking at this, to always see those eyes looking at you with adoration. By knowing about this, to remember that there was someone in the world who loved you sincerely."

***

How many sleepless nights it had been, Poppy couldn't count. Between her agony and the lack of meaning in her life, she had no occupation. She locked herself in her chamber, knowing that her fiancé would take care of everything anyway and not needing her at all, not that she needed him herself.

Her father awakened from his grief at the perfect time for her to plunge into hers. Instinctively, she grabbed the necklace that had always been with her. It was like a talisman, the only thing keeping her alive. The last spark of hope that she would come back and teach her to love again.

A messenger ran into her room unannounced and nearly passed out from lack of air. She rose from her seat and looked at the man with compassion.

"Princess... Is... Answer..." the man could barely catch his breath, which worried Poppy, who sensed that the information he had, must be really important. "Knight Bea... Is dead."

No one remembers what was louder, the scream of agony she gave out of herself, or the impact with which the man fell.

Promise to be by your side until death...

***

She hated being his accessory. Every time he embraced her, she felt a million worms come out of his sleeve and get under her skin. She was sick of it, but she could no longer ignore her responsibilities. The lives of thousands of people depended on her actions. She had been deaf to their pleas long enough.

So at the ball her father had organized, she tried to mingle with the crowd, listen to requests, offer advice, and apologize to those who had suffered. She felt she had failed her mother, but she was ready to change that. She was ready to prove to Bea that she was not weak. Bea. That name quivered in her head too often, echoing and making her bleed. She didn't forget, she didn't want to forget, she remembered, she couldn't remember. Everything she felt tangled with each other in endless knots that tightened inside her.

She was sure that she had managed to process her grief, but at the thought of it, tears threatened to flow from her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying not to look suspicious. Fortunately, her subjects were too busy with their free appetizers to pay attention to her.

The doors to the ballroom opened with a bang and the sounds of clanging armor could be heard. Everyone looked towards where the commotion was coming from and were stunned. At the head of the gathering was none other than the much lamented Bea Kingsley.

"Traitor!" she shouted, aiming an arrow straight at Carter's heart, who fell stiffly to the ground, drenched in his own blood. She dropped the bow and pulled out a paper with trembling hands, which she lifted high into the air. "This letter is proof of treason! Prince Carter plotted and he was responsible for the Queen's murder!" Bea handed the piece of paper to the first better citizen, who squirmed and passed it to the next, until the letter reached the King, who looked at his son-in-law's body and spat on it showing no respect.

The king began to announce something, but everything around Bea fell silent as her eyes met a familiar warm brown. With the remnants of her strength, she began walking slowly towards her. The blonde did the same. The gawkers who stood between the two parted to give them more room, watching the whole situation with commitment. Bea reached out to touch Poppy's cheek with a trembling hand. The familiar warmth gave her strength.

"You are just as beautiful as the day we made love under the stars and the day I had to leave." she said boldly, her eyes glittering with the emotion that had taken over her entire body. She had forgotten the exhaustion, the betrayal, and the hardships that had accompanied her. All that mattered now was the woman standing before her. The woman whose fate she had been bound to since childhood.

Poppy burst out crying as she cuddled into the brunette's body as tightly as she could. She couldn't believe she had her back after all these years. All of them full of pain and agony seemed nonexistent. "I love you. I love you so much." she whispered like a mantra unable to stop, afraid that she was about to disappear.

Bea chuckled, the sound so familiar from their childhood and yet so distant. "I love you too."

[imhavingyour]

like the sun

the one where the boy that works in the garden wants you to read him one of your poems

warnings: none 

word count: 2.9k

(hi i haven’t written in years but i really love this concept and i hope that you do too <3 feedback is greatly appreciated <3)

-

It’s past midnight.

There is no particular reason as to why you are still awake. You just couldn’t seem to fall asleep. No matter how many sheep you counted, no matter what position you moved your body into, no matter how long you kept your eyes shut, you just couldn’t drift off to sleep. Unfortunately, this was not a rarity for you. At least as of recently. 

Instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling or watching the clock tick, you decided to leave your bed. You reach over your nightstand for your matches and strike it, grabbing the lantern that became more visible in the light and setting the flame to it. 

The library was on the opposite end of the house but, honestly, you couldn’t imagine going to any other room. You grabbed your journal and poetry book and headed for the door. The thought of walking down the hall to the bedroom of your sister, Alice, came to mind. Surely, she wouldn’t mind staying up with you for a bit. She was always understanding of your unfortunate sleeping habits. You found yourself standing faced in the direction of her room, but stopped yourself from taking a step further.

“No, that isn’t fair to her. You woke her up just last week.” You whispered, and made direction for the library. The cold floor felt exaggerated against your bare feet, but you were almost there, just around the corner…

When you entered the room, the smell of the books filled your lungs. You sighed as if the scent had carried away a weight that you were holding. The daybed at the window was your spot. You grabbed the inkwell and fountain pen on the desk, settled everything down by the window, and opened it to let in the warm air of the summer night. You couldn't imagine the amount of hours that you have spent sitting here against the window. Most of the time you would sit there reading. Sometimes you would daydream. Sometimes, your groundskeeper, Harry, would be tending to the small garden that was visible outside the window, and you would pretend to be completely oblivious to him and hold your book closer to your face. 

You thought back to a particular moment a couple weeks ago when you had been sitting in this exact spot, mindlessly staring out into the garden while you daydreamed about your future, and the garden that you would like to have. In your garden, there would be more bleeding hearts and baby’s breath. 

You had found yourself so lost in the arrangements of your imaginary landscape that you had not noticed Harry appear with a watering can in one hand and shears for the hedges in his other. You stiffened, but he seemed to not notice you in the window. You watched as he touched up the hedges that had already seemed perfect. 

He was wearing a blue button up and heathered gray pants. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his tanned arms. He lifted his bicep to his forehead to wipe off his sweat. Harry then settled down the shears in the grass and picked up his watering can, crouching down next to the peonies and taking a seat in the bed of grass. While watering them, you see him furrow his brows and move his mouth in conversation.

Was he talking to them?

Indeed, he was. You saw him run a hand through his hair. Truly, he looked conflicted about something. If only you could hear…

Your curiosity had always gotten the best of you, and it was your curiosity that led to reaching for the handle on the french window. He was so caught up in his one-sided conversation, surely he wouldn’t notice as long as you were careful with your movements. You push open the window slightly, and just like that, even though you had been so careful, the loud squeak of the latch had blown your cover. Harry’s head perks up and you stare at each other in slight shock — you had both been caught in your actions. Your breath was caught in your chest and all of the blood in your body was present in your cheeks. When Harry sees that it’s you, he exhales, the corners of his slips turn upwards into a barely-there smile. He raises his hand to give you a soft wave.

Suddenly, a gust of wind from the window takes you back into the reality of your sleepless night, and along with it, it blows out your lantern. 

“Christ!” You whisper to yourself, frantically looking around the room. Your eyes were still adjusting to the shift in lighting, so everything appeared pitch black. You remembered that there were matches on the desk on the adjacent side of the room. You sat up, taking blind but careful steps toward it. You had only moved a couple of steps forward when, of course, with just your luck, you hit your hip on a nightstand beside one of the chairs. You wince in pain as the table wobbles. You catch it just before it falls over, but you couldn’t save the books that were on it. They fall to the floor with a ‘thump’ that loudly echoes across the entire room. You squeeze your eyes shut and freeze your movements at the abrupt sound. A mere seconds later, you hear footsteps rushing to the library. Harry appears in the doorway, eyes blown wide in a search for what the noise had been. The house that included his room, as well as the rooms of the other workers, were separated by a hallway just down from the library. Harry recognizes your silhouette in the darkness, and you his. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” He asks, his voice reaching a soft tone that you haven’t heard before. Your heartbeat thuds at his new sound. 

You fixed your posture and used your hands to straighten out your nightgown before speaking, “Yes, I- uhm. I couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry that I-” 

“I couldn't sleep either.” He interrupts. Even in the darkness of the room, you were almost positive that he could see the warmth in your cheeks. 

“I was trying to grab the matches on the desk,” you motion your hand to the furniture that was only a few steps nearer, “The wind had blown out my candle.” You see Harry’s figure look to the left at the desk, and swiftly walks towards it in the darkness, no nightstands bothered. He feels around the desk for the matches, picking one up and striking it. His face appears in the light of the flame and his eyes look to yours. A breathless gasp leaves your lips. Harry takes a step towards you, and with every one after it you could feel your heartbeat quicken. He stands in front of you in silence. His lips tuck into his teeth as he studies your face for just a moment before looking to your things on the daybed. You waited for him to say something, anything.

“May I join you?” He whispers, shifting his stare back to your face. A chill runs up your spine and you quickly nod your head. A smile breaks on his lips and you hear the exhale from his nose. Then, he reaches out his hand for you to take. When you put your hand in his and he sharply inhales.

“Goodness, Y/N! You’re freezing!” He says in bewilderment. Your lips curve in a slight smile at his sudden concern. Without a thought, he raises your hand to his rose-colored lips and gives it a soft kiss, rubbing his thumb over the spot afterwards. You gasp as if his lips were a branding iron and flinch back your hand at his intimate action. 

His eyes went wide — his movements were so quick and thoughtless — regret immediately washed over his face, “Y/N I’m, I’m so sorry that was very careless and inappropriate of me,” You had never heard him speak this quickly, “Truly, I-”

“It’s fine, Harry,” You whispered. He let out a sigh of relief, and opened his mouth to apologize again, “I just wasn’t expecting you to do that. But, honestly, it’s nothing.”

It was not nothing. It most certainly was not nothing.

You take his hand again with a tenderness, and guide him to the daybed. He relights the lantern and you close the window. A shriek sounds from the hinge and you wince. Harry lets out a laugh and you knew that he was thinking back to the last time he heard that same sound. You sat with your knees pulled into your chest and Harry stretched his legs across the daybed, leaving  centimeters between his feet and your clothed thigh.

His eyes look to the inkwell and fountain pen that you had resting on your poetry book, “Were you writing?” 

“Just some poems, that’s all.” You shrugged, looking down to hide your embarrassment. 

“Your parents tell me that you’re a wonderful writer.” He says quietly. His eyes look down at his twiddling thumbs, and so do yours. 

You furrowed your brows at his comment. Why were your parents talking to Harry about your writing? What else have they told him about you writing? What else have they told him about you? Your stomach starts to turn as you think of all the embarrassing things that your father could have possibly told Harry about.

“Parents always bias towards their children. Trust me, Harry, they’re giving me more credit than I deserve.” Now you were the one twiddling with your thumbs. Harry snaps his gaze in your direction, a look of confusion on his face.

“Why would you say that about yourself?” He had looked as if you offended him. His lips were parted in the slightest way and his eyebrows were placed in a way that had accentuated the lines in between them. The jade of his irises circled in a thin line around his large pupils. Honestly, he looked quite cute. However, you still scoffed at his question. 

“Oh, come on, Harry. I’m not Emily Dickinson. My writing isn’t anything special.” You confessed. 

“Then read some for me.”

“I beg your pardon?” You spoke. You were genuinely taken aback by his statement. Your mind immediately went to the book filled with your poetry, and how so many of them had been written with the thought of Harry in mind. God, at least half of them were about him. 

“If your poetry is nothing special then why don’t you read one to me, someone who is unbiased?” Unbeknownst to you, Harry was biased. You could read him your daily schedule and he would praise you as if you had composed Beethoven’s 9th symphony.

You truly thought about what he had said for a moment. You had never read one of your more personal poems (your favorites) to anyone, and now, here you were. About to read one to the person that they were about. You rolled your eyes at him and he giggled in return, not taking you seriously at all.

“Fine.” You muttered, and reached for your book. You stretched out your legs, accidentally poking Harry’s thigh with your foot. You try to act as if the contact meant nothing and continue to cross your ankles. Harry cleared his throat. 

You open the pages and look through some of them, biting on your cheeks to hold back a smile while you flip past the more obvious ones. Finally, you found a piece that you liked that would be okay for him to hear. You can feel his eyes on you before you meet his gaze. He gives you a smile of encouragement. 

“It’s okay, Y/N, it’s just me.” He says in the same soft tone that you heard when he had first entered the library. You take a deep breath before starting.

“If he is the sun then I will be the flowers that bloom in the spring

And I’ll open up for him so that his light can meet with every part of me

When he is lost in the clouds I’ll ache with the emptiness

But he’ll send me raindrops and remind me that he’ll never leave.” 

Slowly, you close the pages of your book. Your head remains tilted down, you were too shy to see his reaction. After moments of silence you give into your eagerness. You needed to know what he was thinking.

He stares at your book like he was lost in deep thought. Oh, God. He hates it. He knows it’s about him and he hates it. How could you have so stupid as to read him your poetry? You should have put your foot down and told him that your writing was none of his business. He would have left you alone and forgotten about it had you done that. 

Harry was trying to think of who you wrote the poem about. 

Was it the mailman? Her french tutor? A friend of her brothers? 

He looks up to see the worry on your face and shakes his head into a kind smile. 

“I think you’re a wonderful writer, Y/N.”

Your cheeks must have looked like cherries from how hard you were blushing. You wouldn’t tell him, but his words meant the world to you. You were so relieved, as if you had spent all of this time trying to prove yourself to him and here he was, telling you how wonderful your words about him were.

“Thank you, Harry.” You had hoped that those words were enough. 

“Thank you,” His eyes sparkled like the stars just outside of the window, “for sharing something so personal.”

It was time to change the subject, you decided. For your entire life, never had you enjoyed the attention being on you for too long. You took your eyes away from Harry’s and looked at the shelves of books that covered the walls of the library.

“Would you like to read something?” You suggested. Part of you had regretted saying that. You wished you asked Harry a question about himself, there was so much what you wanted to know. What was his family like? You had only known the names of his mother and sister. What did he like to do when he wasn’t working? What was he saying to the peonies in the garden a few weeks ago? Were peonies his favorite flower?

“Um- sure, if that’s what you’d like.” He said. He rose from the daybed and looked around the vast room until his eyes landed on the books that you had knocked over earlier. He walked over to it, picking up both of the large books and holding them with one hand. He settles back into his spot across from you and shows you both of the books. 

“Anna Karenina or Grimms Fairy Tales. Take your pick.” After a short pause, both you and Harry share a laugh at the latter suggestion. It must have been a read of one of your younger brothers. 

“Anna Karenina, please.” You say, pursing your lips.

“Good choice,” He whispers, “He stepped down, trying not to look at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”

Your heart skipped a beat at how effortlessly he had recited the words, “I love that quote. It’s so beautiful.” 

I’ve written more beautiful things about you, Harry thought. But, you couldn’t possibly ever hear them, they were all so evidently about you. While you stare out the window, he takes a moment to look at you, really look at you. He had hoped his fondness for you wasn't blatantly obvious throughout your time spent together, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was, and you had caught onto it. Your eyes had a delicate stare out the window, your lips had been tilted upwards in a way that made your face look so beautifully peaceful. They had looked so soft under the moonlight. Everything about you looked soft. Your hands had laid on your knees. If only he had the courage to just reach out and touch.  

“Well, go on.” You told him.

Harry’s eyes grew wide. For a second, he thought he had said his thoughts aloud. The confused expression that you give him made him realize that you wanted him to read the book. He stifled a laugh of embarrassment while he opened to a random chapter. 

It had only taken ten minutes of Harry’s reading to leave you leaning against the window in a drifted sleep. It had taken him a few minutes to notice. The moonlight had given a bit of a blue tint to your face. Your lips were slightly parted and your eyelashes created an ethereal shadow across your cheeks. Harry took a moment to thank whoever was watching over him. He was so grateful for everything that this night had given him. It was rare that he was able to share moments even close to this with you. You were often so busy taking care of your siblings and he was so busy with all of the outdoor work. If it meant that he could spend hours like this with you, he would never choose to sleep. 

He stared at your face again. For a moment, he contemplates going back to his room to grab his sketchbook. The possibility of waking you up changes his mind. Instead, Harry stays seated across from you and stares at you for what feels like hours trying to paint you in his head.

[asstronauts]

Alphabet Soup

rating: t word count: 1.7k pairing: jemily summary: perhaps love is in the little moments more than the grand gestures. 26 times (among many) that JJ and Emily fall a little bit more in love with each other in the everyday, smaller moments.

read on ao3, if you’d prefer

---

A - alphabet soup

JJ bought cans of alphabet soup for the boys when Michael first began to read, but Emily quickly found it much more entertaining to spell out words like "boob" or "ass" or "sex?" punctuated with a poorly modified capital P in place of a question mark. JJ had to shut it down when Michael asked what a "tit" was, and Emily panicked and mumbled something about birds.

B - bedtime

They would often unwind by reading before bedtime, and JJ found that Emily read through many foreign literature books. The nights she would fall asleep to Emily stroking her hair and reading aloud in words she didn't understand were the nights she felt most rested.

C - constellations

It was clear that Emily didn't actually know any constellations besides the Big Dipper and Orion. But when she laid on the grass with Henry and Michael, she made up stories in the stars about great heroes and the adventures they went on, and the boys fell in love with the night sky.

D - driving

JJ insisted on driving everywhere without the help of smartphone maps, which had gotten them lost on several occasions. Somehow it felt alright, when she had one hand on the wheel and one hand on Emily's leg, the windows were down, and her hair was streaming in the wind and reflecting the setting sun. Somehow it felt alright to be lost with her.

E - errands

For whatever reason, JJ made running any errand seem like immense fun. Buying groceries, getting gas, even sending a letter felt like an adventure when she was there. They'd only gotten kicked out of one grocery store — when JJ had knocked over an entire display stand of candy bars after running and jumping onto a shopping cart. They didn't regret anything.

F - forehead kiss

JJ wasn't that much shorter than Emily, but when the brunette pressed her lips to her girlfriend's forehead, JJ would feel the need to bury her face in Emily's neck to hide her blushing cheeks.

G - graveyard

On that day, JJ just needed space. So Emily took her to the flower shop the day before and drove her to the cemetery that morning and left her alone until she was ready. In the evening, they didn't speak, just laid with one another on the couch until JJ fell asleep in her arms.

H - horror movie

It was a cheap jump scare, but it made JJ scream out and grab Emily's arm, prompting the older woman to laugh at her. JJ responded with a playful slap, and Emily had to kiss her to reaffirm her love. They didn't finish the movie.

I - ice cream

On a day off, Emily took the boys to get ice cream, and when they came home raving about how Emily had managed to stack five ice cream scoops on top of a single cone, JJ knew she was with the right woman.

J - jaw

Emily's knees grew weak whenever JJ kissed up her jaw and whispered in her ear. Her girlfriend caught on and loved messing with her, working her up into a complete frenzy, then saying the most unsexy thing she could think of. Emily hated it, but she also couldn’t help but to collapse into a fit of giggles when JJ planted kisses all up the side of her face and whispered something like "corned beef" in a seductive voice.

K - kitchen

JJ would use every kitchen utensil as a musical instrument during any spare moment in cooking — while the food was cooking, while the water boiled, while the oven was preheating. She would sing into a wooden spoon and shove it into Emily's face to finish the lyric, and the two would dance in each others' arms all throughout the kitchen.

L - letters

When Emily spent her time in Paris and London, she and JJ wrote each other scores of letters the times they weren't together. They'd both filled up an entire box of papers and knickknacks until they were reunited. Even after, JJ would sometimes write a letter addressed to Emily, drop it into the mailbox and tell Emily to check the mail, for no reason except to make her smile.

M - mugs

JJ had an entire cupboard dedicated to mugs for her tea, which Emily could never understand because she only seemed to ever use two of them: one being a lumpy mug Henry had made in a pottery store and the other being a Valentine’s Day gift from Emily with lovely ceramic boobs protruding from the mug’s body.

N - notes

Emily bought a massive pack of post-its and began leaving notes for JJ around work, bringing a smile to her face every time she found a little colorful message. Some were encouraging — you can do it, you light up my world, you're amazing. Some were cheesy — i love you, je t’aime, when you see this blow me a kiss. And some were...questionable — JJ had to hide the extremely accurate (and well-annotated!) drawing of her naked body before Hotch saw.

O - omelette

Most of the time, Emily couldn't cook without the risk of burning the house down, but for some reason, she made the most scrumptious omelette. Despite not knowing how to cook scrambled or fried or boiled eggs, Emily's omelettes were always perfectly cooked, with an impeccable ratio of egg to filling. JJ tried everything she could to make them the same way, but the boys always preferred Emily's omelettes on Sunday mornings. JJ wondered if it was something she learned during her time in Paris.

P - plants

Before JJ, Emily had never been very good at taking care of plants. They seemed to die with little to no warning. But JJ had taught her well, making little plant calendars and teaching her signs to watch out for, and one morning, JJ caught her talking to one of the plants. As she listened more carefully, she heard that Emily was talking to each plant in a different language — according to the plant’s country of origin.

Q - quiet

The moments after the boys were put to bed were some of the only moments of quiet JJ and Emily got alone during the day. No matter how busy or tired they were, they always intentionally took a few moments to just quietly be with one another, curled up in the other's arms, lying in the other's lap, or simply sitting side by side.

R - rain

They'd gotten caught in the storm on the way back to the office from lunch. Despite JJ’s coat held up above them, the pair was getting drenched anyway, and they gave up and decided to make out in the rain instead. They swung their hands back and forth as they splashed over to the BAU, arriving soaked to the bone but elated, as Hotch shook his head at their sodden clothing and dopey grins.

S - Sergio

Emily had arrived home early and found JJ dancing in the hallway with Sergio to "Can't Stop the Feeling" blasting on the bluetooth speaker. She lifted her ban on Justin Timberlake that day, which had previously been in place when in a moment of weakness, JJ had declared she would choose him over Emily if given the chance. (She’d taken it back for Emily's sake, but deep down she couldn't really decide.)

T - thermostat

JJ liked the thermostat to be set at no lower than 77 degrees, while Emily loved the room as cold as possible. The first few months that they lived together was a horrible battle of constantly changing from one drastic temperature to the next, before JJ finally agreed to keeping the temperature low as long as Emily agreed to cuddle with her any time she got cold. Emily did not, however, realize that this compromise extended to the workplace, where JJ would sporadically ask for cuddles throughout the day, and Emily would have to comply.

U - ugly pajamas

Emily loved her ugly pajama sets. One of her favorites was a bright green Grinch onesie in a ridiculous Christmas sweater. JJ hated it until Emily showed it to the boys, and Michael howled with laughter and asked for one for himself. From that day forward, Emily bought her ugly pajamas in full family sets, including accompanying costumes for Sergio.

V - vanilla

Emily didn’t quite mind JJ’s early morning jogs because her favorite moments were when JJ came home after, took a shower, and climbed back into bed to give Emily a warm embrace, flooding her senses with the smell of vanilla shampoo. Emily would roll over to nuzzle her head in the crook of JJ’s neck and plant soft kisses there, breathing in her favorite scent.

W - wine

Emily drank red, JJ drank white. And Henry and Michael loved to join in, pretending to be adults by sipping grape juice from their colorful cups. Perhaps their family had unconventional tea parties, but at least they always had massive amounts of fun doing family activities tipsy. These were the nights when it was almost difficult to tell the difference between Michael and Emily’s coloring pages.

X - X-Files

JJ didn’t fully understand Emily’s deep obsession with The X-Files, but after Emily convinced her that she wasn’t only watching for Gillian Anderson, the younger woman began finding the long rambles and discussions of extraterrestrial life more endearing and interesting.

Y - yarn

JJ really wanted to get the hang of knitting and give something special to the boys, but Emily kept distracting her. Any chance she got, Emily would hold the yarn balls to her chest as fake boobs, use threads of yarn as mustaches, and drum the knitting needles against any surface. It wasn’t that JJ couldn't finish her projects out of annoyance — it was that JJ couldn’t help but laugh and find her girlfriend irresistible, forcing her to set aside her work and wrap herself up instead in the brunette’s embrace.

Z - zoo

It was Emily's explosive childlike joy when she had seen the dolphins. She claimed it was for the boys’ sakes, but JJ had noticed the pure excitement in her eyes when they saw the sign and felt the way Emily had tugged on her wrist to rush to the stadium and grab seats right in the splash zone. And in the screams of laughter and the moment when both Henry and Michael clutched at Emily when the water washed over them, JJ knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with this woman.

[glamrockmonarch]

The Land That Our Grandchildren Knew (B!Reader x Brian May)

THIS WORK IS PART OF THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE

Requested: NO

Type: SFW, FLUFF ?, ANGST.

Summary: A little glance at life back to normal after Brian and B!Reader get over the cheating scandal.

Warnings: None.

A/N: So this came out of nowhere in my mind. I have struggled with being creative for a while and I just do not know why(?) but here we are! I hope someone out there enjoys reading this one.

*For anyone who does not remember (lol it has been a while): B!Reader (often B!R) is "Brian!Reader", and R!Reader (or R!R) is "Roger!Reader".

“The one thing he did not know was how much I loved him. In a previous life, in a time when things were so much more complicated. When war was splitting us apart and leaving us breathless. Motionless in a world of aggressive turmoil. There was little we could do when everything was amiss. All around us things were blowing up, giving in upon themselves the buildings fell, and the cities died along with their lights and spectacles.

“The love I grew and nurtured for him was the last reminding power of the old Earth, scattered through the cosmos like dust as I searched for him in a ridiculous journey. I did not meet a king in a tiny planet, and I never saw a rose grow on the dry lands of the foreign space countries. We had each other but time made it so that I was here today while he was here yesterday. Today was never ours, today was a promise we believed and ate up and followed with blind eyes until the moment when the sound of truth, deafening and cruel, locked us out of each other’s life. And still, forever, my love for him is true and enduring. Out there, I know he will feel my presence in the air, see me in the clouds, savour me in the smell of rain and grass. He will miss me when the night is cold, and the sound of wind reminds him of my voice… Yes, he will be empty when he hears the silence, the way I will always feel too when I look back at Earth and regret every second spent away from the one who called me Venus.”

The crowd claps and smiles and I see the people in the front look at the books in their hands with expressions of confusion and deep thought. A good reason to write something is to make people wonder, so for B!Reader this one was a success. She had taken so long to finish the manuscript, not that she was being lazy; with the scandal of Brian cheating and the twins taking sides, it was hard to focus on this. This book was not what she intended on writing when she began doing research for it. It started with the Irish War of Independence, she went around Britain meeting historians with much better understanding and knowledge on the topic. It soon turned upside down when the news appeared on every single form of media… Brian’s stunt. She would call it what it was now; he had cheated.

It was hard to get over it. B!Reader took time off with her mother in Scotland, she had taken the kids with her, much to Brian’s displeasure, but he was in no position to complain. When she came back home, she was still defeated by the details. Brian’s lame explanation sounded more like an excuse but even she had to admit that her husband did not have the best track record when it came to women. She was probably the one he had been the most loyal to at that point – even when he had cheated on her once.

So, she tried. They sought professional help. A therapist. First couple’s therapy, and then one-on-one sessions alone. She hated every second of it, which could not have been fun to hear for their therapist. Nothing seemed to be helping, in fact B!Reader talked to a lawyer in secret… but her career was also on the line at that point, and she was desperate for ideas, desperate to reconnect with the only man she ever truly and completely loved. Her manager had the idea, “read some of Brian’s stuff, maybe ask him about his PhD work, maybe he will inspire you and if he doesn’t at least you will have spoken to each other… it’s worth a try”. And so B!R did that, although not in the way her manager had meant. She was stirring her on the direction of reading some of his lyrics not his space dust thesis… Nevertheless, the story began there.

B!R could not understand much, and she wound up spending a lot of time talking about physics and space with her husband. Brian was a patient teacher, she already knew that, but it was now being confirmed to her. He was also happy to be able to go on and on for hours, the topics where his cup of tea, and they had numerous cups of tea too while B!R took notes and began toying with a historical fantasy mix for her next book.

Today she was reading from her favourite chapter in the book. It had been a massive hit; one she could not quite understand. If she was being honest, the book was more like therapy for her than her actual therapy sessions had been. She cried while writing it and poured a lot of emotion into it, which she rarely did. Her writing had always been more …impersonal, presented almost as a sort of biography of fictional characters rather than real moving parts of the imaginary world they were living in.

She had never written such an odd story before, with time skips and a weird space journey concepts implanted in the middle of 1920 Ireland.

“You did great, mum.” A proud Fred wrapped his arm around her middle.

Even though the teen boy was still that, a teenager, he managed to already stand a couple centimetres taller than his own mother.

“Thank you love, did you get anything of that?” She wondered, wrapping her arm around him in the familiar way a mother does.

Arm around his shoulder, soft play of the tender fingers on the dark curls on the back of the head of her “little boy”.

“Nothing at all,” he smiled and shrugged, honesty dripping in shameless glee from his tone. “But that’s the cool part, I don’t think anyone gets it.” The younger of the twins looked at his mother up and down in her bright blue dress. “Except Dad. Was that the point?”

B!Reader looked at her son and inhaled a deep long breath, which she held for a moment. Her brows furrowed and her mouth moved like that of a fish.

“Maybe.” She conceded.

“Hey mum, would you sign my book?” Harry interrupted, bringing along Jazz and a peculiarly uninterested Max.

Harry gave his mother a wide smile and put a copy of her own book in her hands.

“For Harry, please.”

“Dork,” Max rolled his eyes.

He was the only one to admit he had not finished the book yet the previous weekend when Fred mentioned his mother was doing a reading at a local bookstore while they sat by the Taylor’s pool. And he rushed to get through it. Max was not dumb, and he managed to grasp some of the concepts in the complicated plot, although he did not let on to any of his friends.

“Loved the wormhole bits Mrs May.” Max said once Harry had his signed copy reading for Harry with Love. “That dark hole and the speed of dark and light near the end were mind-blowing. I never thought of you as a fantasy writer!”

B!Reader nodded and blushed at the compliments. Max was a lot like Roger in that he did know how to make a girl blush with what appeared to be little effort.

“I am glad you liked it,” she said, a trace of pride in her voice.

“I really wish Darragh and Conor had ended up together,” Jazz voiced from around Harry’s tall lean and awkward teen figure. “They were obviously meant for each other.”

Fred had been in tears when he read the ending of the book. Of course, he would have hoped for his mother’s first queer paring to end together but what that did was echoing life.

“You have to be the eighth person who’s said that to me today.”

R!Reader, Roger and Brian were in a conversation of their own next to the long table B!Reader was about to sit before to meet some fans and sign as many copies of her book as time allowed.

She eyed the silver hair on her husband’s hair, she had been discreet when describing Darragh in her book. A tall, talented, middle-aged, idealist Irish man. A man born in a difficult time. A man who fell in love by mistake, with Conor. A young man described often as immature, who enjoyed a quiet life on board of a spaceship when he got caught up in a black hole and wound up going back hundreds of years and miles into the past. Conor had almost been killed in his attempts of helping his beloved Darragh in fighting what he considered to be hiswar. The battles gave their relationship meaning, although it was never spoken about between them. The adoration was always palpable and present to the last page. Down to the moment when Conor acknowledges that his lover cannot come with him once he finds the way back into his ship, and then it turns into a matter of will. Darragh is revealed to have a similar story, only that… he was left stranded in 1905 with no way back to his ship. “The voice of Venus” was really a metaphor for B!Reader. A complicated one, as her feelings were when she had to love the man who broke her heart. She felt lost the way Conor felt, but she could tell Brian had been lost for a while before the entire ordeal – defeated in the same manner as Darragh. And it was fitting, he was older, he was educated. He should have known better than to play in the physics lab with those dangerous materials. Brian should have known better than to play with that old woman. Conor could have turned his back on Darragh, he knew he was of no help now that he was so invested in the past – now their present. He knew Darragh and himself would never be able to be together if he stayed and they would most likely get killed if they marched on. So B!Reader made them split. She was about to leave Brian when she started writing her book, so it made sense. And when she realised, she did not want to end her marriage, she still wrote it that way because this was the ending she had seen coming for herself before – one she fortunately managed to evade, which still was the ending for many couples.

B!Reader watched the teens as they began discussing the book, Max and Jazz were defending the plot, Fred joined in and the three of them seemed to be getting passionate about proving Harry wrong. The eldest of the group was stubborn about his stance on Conor being right to leave Darragh.

His mother could not help but remember that same stubbornness from the first few weeks after the story broke. Harry had been the one to take it the hardest. When they packed for Scotland, she had to stop him from shattering his project guitar, the yellow guitar he and Brian had been working on for a while. “I don’t want it! I do not want anything from him! He is a liar!” He had yelled, with the side of his face still reddened from a slap he received from Brian. She still could not believe she managed to stay impartial at that moment after the mess that had happened in the kitchen when Harry insulted his father – earning a slap from him.

“It’s alright,” B!Reader placed her arm around the twins’ shoulders. “Conor had to go back anyway. He had a family in the spaceship.”

“What?” Jazz was the first one to open her mouth.

With a laugh, the young writer looked at the confused faces around her. “He could never stay…” She shrugged.

Harry’s expression flashed with a difficult emotion, which both Jazz and his mother noticed.

The short girl flipped her long blonde hair and checked the time on her phone, “no wonder I’m hungry! Who’s coming?” Her blue eyes searched around in an almost innocent manner.

“You got to be joking, we JUST ate.”

Max stepped back from his sister and Fred followed, “sorry, I told dad I’d get lunch with him.”

Blue eyes flipped onto Harry’s figure. B!Reader gave him a squeeze and let go, the sigh he let out being enough of an answer for Jazz to show a large smile, reaching out to grab his hand and pull her to her side. It almost seemed a pass of the baton.

The boy walked taller than Jazz and still, it looked like he was the smaller child. She was sure they had been doing a good job as parents, although that slipdid a number on Harry. The curly haired boy pulled the glass door open and let Jazz go first, only to have her childishly cling on to his arm once they were outside, a smile breaking his serious expression when his young friend told him something – they were too far for B!Reader to make out what Jazz said.

“Where are those two going?” Brian walked up to her.

He had a cardboard cup of coffee in his hand, which he offered to her. With a mumble she took it and had a testing sip – it was too bitter, but it would do. “Nando’s. Probably.” She gave her husband a soft smile.

Brian nodded in silence, a reflective look on his face.

“He needs some time, Bri.” She guessed what he was thinking about.

“It’s been a year,” he said with caution.

“He is getting over it, love.” She took a step closer to Brian and whispered, “he’s picked up the guitar again.” They shared a look before someone called for B!Reader and she left her husband with a peck on the cheek.

[gukyi]

the search | jhs

summary: your boyfriend, hoseok, decides you surprise you one afternoon and sends you on a scavenger hunt all around the city, marking the memories of your love. 

{established relationship!au}

pairing: jung hoseok x reader genre: fluff word count: 1k warnings: none a/n: thank you to @theevangelist for commissioning this drabble and for donating to blm! this fic is just a reminder to me that i need to write more stuff for hobi because he is lovely and deserves it.

It starts with a note taped to your front door. 

You plop the canvas bags of groceries down at your feet in curiosity as your fingers tug at the index card attached to your grody wooden apartment door, eyes narrowing as you read the scrawled lettering. 

I hope this note finds you well. You are being sent on a quest by none other than your amazing, incredible, wonderful, generous, handsome, talented boyfriend. There is something good at the end of this, I promise. 

There better be, you think to yourself. All you could think about while at the supermarket was how excited you were to come back home and fall asleep on your couch watching reruns of the Forensic Files. 

First one’s easy. Return to the very place we first met. Where it all started. 

You shuffle into your apartment, hands full and note between your lips, and drop off all of your groceries, making sure to put anything cold into your refrigerator before continuing. The moment you’re finished, you head out of your apartment and make a beeline for your local sushi restaurant. It’s several blocks away but your feet seem to be moving quicker today, pink index card clutched in between your fingers as you walk against the wind, hands crossed over your chest to keep warm. It’s cold today—or perhaps you just never dress appropriately—and you sure as hell hope that Hoseok isn’t going to send you on a wild goose chase outdoors like this. 

When you arrive, Hoseok isn’t there (not that you were expecting him to be). Instead, you notice his good friend Jimin waiting in an empty booth, sipping on a soda. 

You have a feeling he isn’t anticipating anybody else. 

It’s hard not to think about this place when it comes to Hoseok. When it comes to who the two of you have become together. 

“Hey, that’s my friend from dance,” Jungkook says to you, pointing to a man sitting a few tables away from you. He’s alone, but checking his watch often, like he’s expecting someone. “Hoseok!”

The man looks up and his expression bursts into a grin, happy and relieved to have been called over. At once, you notice his eyes, the way that they twinkle in the soft white light of the restaurant, like his own little sets of stars. He gets up at once, heading over to your table. 

“Jungkook, what a nice surprise!” He says, making sure to turn and say hello to you as well. You’re frozen still, too nervous to say anything but too entranced to look away. 

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks. 

Hoseok shrugs. “I was supposed to be on a date, but it looks like she bailed on me.” For what reason you cannot possibly imagine. Who would bail on someone like him?

“Damn, that sucks,” Jungkook says. “You’re welcome to sit with us, right, Y/N?”

Jungkook’s voice breaks you out of your trance, making you turn to him with wide eyes. Hoseok smiles at your fumble, chuckling heartily. 

“Y-Yeah,” you sputter out. “Of course.”

Hoseok accepts happily, thanking the two of you for letting him crash your meal. He slides in next to Jungkook so you’re forced to look at him and his starry eyes, and he begins to smile. 

“Am I in the right place?” You ask with an eyebrow raise, strolling up to Jimin. He jumps at your voice. 

“Not too hard to find me, right?” Jimin poses. He holds out a blue index card between his fingers.

I knew you could do it. Hard to believe that so much would come from that one meal. You know, I’m actually kind of grateful to the girl that bailed on me. I think that, since our friend groups were so interlocked, we would have met eventually, but if she hadn’t skipped out, I don’t know if we ever would have made what we have now. 

In any case, your next clue is this: my favorite book?

You thank Jimin for his time and promise to buy him a drink sometime soon as payment for sitting in the sushi restaurant, lonely and waiting for you to show up. The hostess does not pay attention to the fact that you arrived and left within five minutes, and you dart off to the next spot on your list. 

It’s ten blocks in the opposite direction—god, couldn’t Hoseok have made this a little less intensive?—but you know that you’re getting close because the smell of coffee is wafting through the air, the wind blowing it towards you. 

The bookstore is right next to you and Hoseok’s favorite coffee joint, a perfect destination for two nerds like yourselves. 

You wander into the store, a crooked little thing, old white walls with peeling paint and random rugs scattered along the floor. Here, you and Hoseok could spend hours, browsing through the hundreds of books stored haphazardly on the shelves, some arranged in an order, and some placed wherever there was an empty spot. The books have long outgrown the store, but the owner still refuses to part with this near-shack. Something about the memories. 

“I never knew this place even existed,” you tell Hoseok as he leads you through the winding passageways and uneven steps of this tiny little bookstore, so tilted and twisted it’s as if the place will fall apart underneath the pressure.

“It’s a secret,” Hoseok whispers into your ear with a giggle. “For only those who know exactly where to look.”

“I take it you read?” You ask. This is a strange place for a first date, but no stranger than any others you’ve been on. 

“I bring a book with me to practice every day,” Hoseok tells you proudly. “Books are dreams turned to reality.”

“There are other ways to turn your dreams into a reality,” you tell him. 

Hoseok turns to you, a gleam in his eye, interest piqued. “Really? How’s that?”

You whisper, a shout into the void, into the air settling between the two of you. “By doing them yourself.”

Despite the organization (or lack thereof) of the shop, you know exactly where to find what you’re looking for. On a small shelf that doesn’t match any of the others in the store is a collection of Charles Dickens works, and three paperback copies of A Christmas Carol. 

You fish through the first two with no luck, but find a purple index card in the third. 

Too easy for you, huh? I guess it’s no surprise that my favorite book is a children’s tale about Christmas. But I think that even adults can learn from ol’ Ebenezer Scrooge sometimes. I just think that Christmas, and the wintertime in general, is magical. And I think that we could all do with never forgetting the past, working towards the future, and living in the present. At least, that’s what I try to do. 

Okay, last one: in a big city, stars are sparse and nearly impossible to see. But there is one place that we can go whenever we miss the Moon and her admirers. 

You suppose that Hoseok has a method to his madness nonetheless. 

There are four parks within the city, but you know exactly which one Hoseok’s talking about. It’s the one in the center, surrounded by skyscrapers and glass windows and street lamps. It’s small, barely the size of a decent parking lot, but it’s filled with trees and a giant fountain in the middle, and signs to keep off of the grass that nobody reads. 

And when you arrive, there you see him, sitting on the lawn on a gingham picnic blanket, with a basket splayed out as he gazes up at the evening sky. 

“I knew you’d know where to go,” Hoseok says when he spots you strolling towards him, fingers toying with themselves like a kindergarten love. 

“Did you ever doubt me?” You ask him. It’s as if Hoseok thinks that you don’t think the same as he does, don’t treasure the same memories you share. “You know we’re not supposed to be on the grass.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hoseok says, pulling you down next to him and wrapping his arms around you. He leans in close, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “And who’s going to stop me?”

“Stop,” you say with a grin, letting him kiss you again. “The stars are watching us.”

Hoseok smiles. Even if it’s only seven, even if you can’t even see the stars in the city anyway, they will never leave your side. Not when you can watch them in the eyes of the man in front of you, white glints twinkling, shimmering, sparkling. He is golden and beautiful. He is starlight. “I hope that they always do.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget that i’m still taking commissions!

[benji-writes]

Cherry Blossom

Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

Word Count: 4041

Summary: You and Bucky finally find the love you deserve. Underneath the cherry blossoms, everything is beautiful. -- What the two of them find is a fantastical real life dream of mine. I hope you think it’s as beautiful as I do. 

Warnings: Mentions of death, but nothing graphically depicted. Should be edited more, but I literally could not read it again. 

He sat on the steps of the back porch. She sat beside him. He hated that this place was so quiet now. It wasn’t supposed to be. It never was before. He looked over at the woman sat beside him and he could see it. The two of them together, happy, in this same place. He prayed she could see it too. 

“When my grandparents first bought this place, there was hardly anything here. The house they’d bought was this tiny little dump, with rotted wood and broken windows. Mom has pictures. It’s amazing how different it looks now. Nana told me they liked the land, and that’s why they bought it. That the trees and the grass were perfect. That the air smelled just right.”

She looked over at the man she loved. She’d never seen him like this. It was almost solemn. A solemn yearning for something he didn’t yet have. She leaned her head on his shoulder and said, “Will you tell me about them? Will you tell me about this place?”

He looked down at her, this woman he loved enough to bring here, to this sacred place. He was unafraid with her beside him, “I’ll tell you everything. It’s a long story though.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight, “Don’t worry. We have time.”

He kissed her temple and her eyes fell closed. She looked out at the garden and said, “How did they first meet?” 

“Well. He fell flat on his face in front of her.”

—

You weren’t sure if he’d noticed you, but you’d long since noticed him. You’d sit everyday at the picnic table by the cherry blossom trees. You could see the pond from where you sat, with it’s geese and frogs and lily pads. In the distance, where the birch trees grew, you could hear the sound of woodpeckers. It was the world’s most perfect spot. 

You were a teacher, and so most days, after you changed out of your work clothes and went home to get a snack, you’d come sit in the park. You’d grade your papers there, watch the geese float in the water. The local geese were familiar with you now. They’d sit by you sometimes during the week, though mostly they kept their distance. On Sundays though, they’d flock to the shoreline when they saw you coming. You’d bring a big bag of rice and corn, and spread it across the ground. Sometimes they’d eat right out of your hand, especially Mister and Lady Goose. You’d fed them as goslings, and years later, they’d sit by your feet as you fed their goslings. You loved them, and you loved that park. 

There we other picnic tables scattered throughout the park and around the pond, benches and lights lined the pathways. There were always people about, and that was how you first saw him. He ran through the park everyday. Morning and afternoon. You’d see him Sunday mornings while you fed the geese, and weekday afternoons while you graded. You’d watch him, hair tied back, long sleeved shirt. He was always sweating. His shirts were long, but he didn’t wear gloves. You paid enough attention to him to realize he had a prosthetic arm. He wasn’t trying to hide it completely, but he didn’t want to call attention to it either. It made you wish the world was kinder. Maybe then he’d be less afraid to show himself. 

He’d noticed you of course. How could he not? You were there everyday, and were half the reason he kept running through that park, even though the path was old and cracking, raised in some parts, and not great if your goal was speed. Fortunately, his goal, at least by the pond, was a leisurely jog. The longer he jogged by the longer he could see you. Sometimes he’d stop there, drink some water, as if he really needed a water break, and pretend to take in the scenery before he went on his way. 

You were usually working on something. Writing on papers, though he never knew what exactly. You were so beautiful and you didn’t even know it. Alone at that picnic table, you’d laugh out loud at something that you were reading. You’d put your face in your hands when it was really bad, shake your head before you continued writing. Sometimes a gust of wind would blow through the trees, and the cherry blossoms, and petals would swirl around you like you were their very center of gravity. You’d sometimes look up from your work, and watch the petals fall into the pond. You didn’t even notice the way they fell at your feet like an offering, and decorated your hair like they’d been destined to land there. You looked like a scene in a movie.

On Sundays, you’d feed the geese. This was amazing to him, not only because you’d get so close to those horrifying birds, but because you’d pet them too, paying no mind to the absurd amount of geese droppings you had to step around. The goslings would nuzzle at your feet, while their parents ate out of your hand. You weren’t like anything he’d ever seen.

The day you and Bucky met, it was a Friday afternoon. The sun fell softly across the pond and you didn’t have any work to do. You sat there, picking the cantaloupe out of your fruit cup so you could save the best for last, and reading a book on your phone. You could hear his steps as he came around the corner, and though you were usually pretty discreet, for the first time, you accidentally made eye contact. You were looking at him, and by God he was looking at you, and neither of you could stop. But with all his attention on you, he had no awareness of where he was going. He tripped right over the raised concrete and fell smack on his face, barely catching himself in time. 

“Holy shit,” As soon as you saw him fall, you were out of your seat running over to him. He rolled over, groaning, hands holding onto his scraped up face.

“Oh my god, are you okay? You’re okay right? Oh goodness, lemme see please.” You grabbed onto his wrists and slowly pulled his hands away from his face. You could feel a little bit of resistance, but could also tell he was letting you do it. 

He was a little scraped up, but looked mostly fine. The words slipped out as he said, “God, you're even prettier up close.”

You felt your face heat up. Nobody had ever said anything to you quite as sweet as that. He groaned again, pulling his hands back up to cover his face.

“Is this as embarrassing as it feels?” His voice came through muffled underneath his hands.

You smiled so bright and said, “Maybe a little, but it’s working in your favor. If it’s any consolation, I find it pretty charming.”

He pulled his hands away, looked up at you and said, “I can work with charming.”

You rolled your eyes at that and said, “That’s the line you’re going with? Really?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, not my best work.” 

You shook your head, “No kidding.” 

You stood up, and reached you hand down to help him up. He didn’t need the assistance, but he thought it was sweet of you to offer. You wiggled your fingers and said, “Well come on then, Prince Charming, time to get up.”

Once he was standing he brushed himself off and said, “So, Princess, what do you say?”

You were confused, “What do I say about what?” 

“Sunday morning. Right about here. I’ll bring the coffee and cinnamon rolls?” He was a little nervous, but something in him just told him this was right.

You looked at him for a minute, arms folded across your chest. You’d hardly spoken, but somehow it already felt natural. Easy. Like when you run into a friend you haven’t seen for years, and fall right back into old patterns. Everything following a natural rhythm as if it had been that way all along. 

“Cream, two sugars. Bring lots of napkins”

He smiled at that, “See you then, Princess.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled as you two said goodbye, “You’re not really gonna stick with that nickname, are you? I mean, Princess? No originality. No flair.”

He barked out a laugh, “Okay. Alright. Listen, I see you in this park everyday. I have a nickname for all the park regulars. I can always call you that instead?”

“Oh God, is it even worse than Princess?”

“Maybe,” he said. “See you later, Chess.”

Your eyebrows and nose scrunched up in confusion, “Chess? I don’t play chess.”

He blushed, looked at his feet with a shy smile and said, “Well not chess like, chess chess. Chess like Duchess. Y'know cause, when the blossoms blow in the wind, and you’re sitting over at your table, it’s kinda like that scene from the movie y'know? The Aristocats? When O’Malley shakes the blossoms off the tree and they fall all pretty around Duchess. I thought that was kinda what you looked like, so.”

Your eyes were glassy, and you clenched your jaw to keep the tears from falling. No one had ever made you feel so beautiful. In a burst of courage, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, “See you Sunday, O’Malley. I’ll be waiting.”

— 

“So that’s why there’s a Cherry Blossom Tree in the front yard?” She asked.

He looked out over the backyard and said, “Once the house was built, it was the first thing they did. There are pictures of Nana at the plant nursery, with this little tree in a pot. It was maybe five feet tall, a little bigger maybe, when they planted it. It’s been growing well over sixty years now. Closer to seventy maybe, not too sure on the math if I’m being honest.”

“Well what about the rest of this place? There’s so much here.”

“Nana used to say you could travel the Earth and never find somewhere with as much love as this place. When I was a kid I thought that of course there had to be somewhere else, but now that I’m older. Now that I’m back here, in this place, I know she’s right.”

He breathed in deep, wishing his grandmother were here to tell her the stories instead, “You see the gazebo?” He asked. “That gazebo is the reason this place happened the way it did.”

— 

It was quiet in your bedroom. In the late hours of the night, a Nuwave Air Fryer infomercial played in the background. The tv was muted, but with your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat was all you needed. 

Bucky’s prosthetic was wrapped around your waist, and the cool of the metal was a nice contrast to his body heat. With his other hand, his fingertips drew lines on your back. That behavior, rhythmic and comforting, like the beat of his heart. The assurance that came with the feel of his fingers tracing up and down and back up again in time.

This was all you’d ever wanted. This peace that came from laying beside someone you loved wholly and entirely. Someone who loved you back. In that bed, in that moment, a sort of quietude took root. You had grown so used to the cruelty of men that to be shown such raw love, such unashamed kindness, from this man brought to you an ease you’d never known. It was strange. It felt like it had always been this way. Like something inside of you always knew you would end up here. You knew he felt the same. 

“Hey, Chess?” He said, his voice fell over you like the comfort of a familiar blanket. 

“Yeah, Buck?” 

“It’s the same for you, right? You feel it the same?”

You patted his stomach, “Yeah, Buck. I do.”

His arm that ran up and down your back stopped for a minute. He took his hand, and turned your face up so you were looking at him, “Will you marry me?”

You smiled up at him. That sweet bedtime smile he was so fond of, “Only if you marry me back.”

The side of his mouth turned up, and he ran his hand through your hair, “Ok, I promise I will.”

You kissed his chest, and knew that this was right. Some people had grand proposals. Elaborate secrets, everything carefully timed, so someone could ask the person they love to be with them forever. And that’s beautiful – for them. It’s what’s right for their marriage, and for each other. But you didn’t want that, and neither did Buck. It felt right this way. The two of you, together as you would be always. You’d sleep like this every night for the rest of your lives, and it felt more special this way. Like there wasn’t a question at all. Like this was always how it would be. Like something inside of him always knew he would end up here. He knew you felt the same. 

He reached over with his hand to the nightstand, head turning as much as it could to see what he was doing, opened the drawer, and pulled out a little box. He opened it with one hand, and held the box close to you so you could get a good look. 

He felt his chest start to get wet, quiet tears falling down your face. You didn’t say anything, just kissed his chest again, and picked your left hand up off his stomach and held it up for him. He took the ring out of it box, and slipped it onto your finger. It fit just right.

He put the box back on his nightstand, and started running his fingers up and down your back again. You burrowed into him as close as your bodies would let you, “Let’s get a house, now. One with lots of windows.” 

You and Bucky had long since talked about what you wanted in the future. A house, somewhere quiet, but not too quiet. Kids, who would run around. Children who you could show everyday how beautiful this world could be. You’d take them to the park where you first met every Sunday, and feed the geese under the cherry blossoms. 

Bucky’s words came right in step with yours, “A big backyard, with lots of grass. When the kids come, me and Sam can build them a jungle gym.”

“With a swing set. I loved the swings when I was a kid. I still love the swings.”

Bucky nodded, “With a swing set.”

“We can have a wrap around porch. One with a porch swing, and we can sit on it together. Maybe we can grow a vegetable garden. With lots of basil and rosemary. Maybe hot peppers, and tomatoes. Behind it we can grow an apple tree. We’ll cook all the time, sometimes with the stuff we’ve grown ourselves.”

“I want a plum tree too. Some blueberry bushes. Or a strawberry patch in the front yard. And I want a big kitchen. Something nice, with all kinds of pots and pans, and a walk-in pantry. One day we’ll teach the kids to make cookies there.” Bucky said smiling.

“With granite countertops. The kind that you have to Windex to keep clean.”

It went quiet for a moment, before you spoke again, only a little hesitant this time, “What if we... What if we got married there? We could... We could build a gazebo in the backyard. Do it up with lights and flowers. Invite just the people we love. We’d get married right there. Maybe have our first dance inside there too, or something. That way there’d be nowhere more special than our home. We could sit on the steps of the back porch, and for the rest of our lives we’d look out at that gazebo and remember. We could dance there all the time and know that no place in the world had known more love. And one day, growing up with the pictures on the walls, having seen the old videos, one of our kids will want to get married there too. If we’re real lucky.”

You looked up at Bucky, after realizing you’d gone off on quite a fantastical tangent. He was already looking at you, silent tears rolling down his face. 

“Our wedding night could be the first night we spend in our new home. I’d carry you into the house. We could... we could plant a cherry blossom tree in the front yard.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile, and neither could he. He laughed through tears, too full of joy to keep it in. 

“I love you, James.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

— 

“Your grandparents really got married here?”

“Yeah. I can show you the pictures when we go back inside. I told you this place was a dump when they bought it. They had a lot of help fixing it up, but when they did, this was where they got married. Uncle Steve got married here too. So did Aunt Becca. Mom and Dad were never married, but that’s probably for the best, since they separated anyways. I wonder if mom knew it might happen. Didn’t want to taint this place.”

Your grandson took a moment to breathe before he kept talking, “Even with how mom and dad turned out though, I never doubted that love was real. So many of my friends who grew up with divorced parents came out of it so scarred. With this fear of love and marriage, like it was always destined to go wrong. But Nana and Grampy always loved each other. When we were little, we’d sleep over, and run around in the yard while they sat together on the porch. I can still hear their laughter echoing throughout the house. I rarely ever saw them argue. And mom says, when they got angry at each other when she was a kid, they’d walk away, and stay apart for the rest of the day. They’d dance in the gazebo that night, and mom says it was like the anger had never been there at all. Like, when they came back together in that place, they agreed to let it wash away with every step.”

“They must’ve been incredible.” She said in awe.

“They were. Not without their faults, of course, but they were really something,” he took a deep breath. “You know, Uncle Steve owns this place now. When Nana passed, Grampy couldn’t take it. They were both in their nineties, but Grampy had more years in him still. But without Nana it was like he didn’t wanna do it anymore. He wanted to be with her again so bad. But when I close my eyes, I can still feel them here. See them dancing, hear their laughter. I’d sit between them on the porch swing sometimes, and listen to them tell stories. It’s like, those stories are still in the walls. Just waiting for new ones to be created.”

He looked over at the woman he loved, and stood up with his hand held out. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“My favorite spot here,” he said.

—

Your kids were growing so fast. Steve was nearly 15 now and it all felt so strange and wonderful to see them grow. Becca had just turned 13, and your youngest, Winnie, turned ten not long after. It hurt in the best way possible, and there was nothing that could have prepared you for that feeling. 

You and Bucky sat on the porch swing, looking out at your Cherry Blossom. It was so big now. It would keep growing of course, but compared to the little thing it was when you first got it, you could hardly believe what it had become. Where had the time gone?

You curled into Bucky and sat quietly. Music played over your speakers, softly in the background, and he hummed along. 

“Hey, Buck. I got a stupid idea. You on board?” You looked up at him, mischief on your mind.

“Always, Chess.”

“Okay, stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You went through the front door, giggling. Steve was sitting on the couch as you passed through the living room, and for some reason, it made you feel like you’d been caught. 

“Mom, what are you doing?”

You slowed your pace and said, “Nothing. Mind your business, nosey butt.”

You made it into the kitchen, and began giggling again. You went to where your purse sat on the counter, and rummaged around till you found your pocket knife. 

Walking back outside, trying to appear very normal as you passed a very suspicious Steve in the living room, you sat back down on the swing. You flicked open the knife and looked at Bucky with the smile that always meant trouble, “Ready?”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him, and he laughed at you, “What the hell do you plan on doing with that?”

You closed the knife for the time being, grabbed his hand, and said, “Just follow me, Buck.”

He shook his head as you dragged him up and over to the Cherry Blossom tree, where you opened your knife again. 

He leaned against the side of the tree watching you as you began to carve a heart into the bark, “Are you seriously carving out initials into this tree like we’re a pair of pre-teens.”

You smiled at him, “Obviously.”

He shook his head, but looked at you like you were the moon, “You are so impossibly dumb.”

You laughed at that, “Yeah, I know. Married you didn’t I?”

He rolled his eyes as if annoyed, but you knew better, “Ha ha, you’re so funny.” 

You had finished the heart and began carving your initials. When you finished, you handed Bucky the knife, and he carved his own. When he finished he closed the knife, and kissed you softly.

Inside, Steve, knowing something was up had called his sisters. All three kids sat watching from the front window. Once you kissed, they all pulled away rolling their eyes. Winnie said, “Do they always have to do that?”

Steve shrugged, “Better that than the opposite, I guess.”

Becca nodded, “Still gross though.”

“Oh, yeah definitely,” Steve said. “Definitely gross.”

Outside, you and your husband looked at each other. In that moment, it was all you needed. 

—

“See, look,” Your grandson said standing underneath the blossom branches. “I used to come out here as a kid, and trace my fingers along their initials. Nana told me she thought it was like something out of an old movie. I just thought it was special.”

He watched as the woman he loved traced her fingers gently around the heart and over its letters, “It’s beautiful.”

The wind blew by, and the petals fell from the trees. He knew, this is what his grandpa felt when he saw his grandma in the park. He understood why he called her Chess right up to the day she died. Cause right here, right now, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen looked up at the petals as they fell. She looked ethereal. Blissful. Soft and dreamy. Just like Duchess.

She was too busy looking at the petals to notice him drop to one knee. When the wind finally stopped and she went to look at the love of her life, she froze. There he was, so handsome, down on one knee. Her hand came over her mouth as he said, “I love you so much. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, and if you let me, I’ll love you till the day I die... Uncle Steve agreed to sell me this house. We could live here, if you want. Get married, just like my grandparents. There would be so much love here. I want to share it with you, if you’ll let me.”

She fell to her knees, kissed him fiercely, and without an ounce of hesitation said, “Yes.”

[yawnjunie]

monster hunting for dummies (2)

chapter two: it’s all fun and games

wc: 4.3k a/n: i'm too lazy to put the same descriptions in the top of each chapter and reformat it each time so it'll just be word count from now on; additional warnings will be put in new chapters' descriptions if necessary. if you would like to see the info again, just revisit chapter one or the masterlist. happy reading!

———

Jumping off of the Viking ride, you took a moment to catch your breath before looking for something fun to do again. You walked among the crowd, looking around at the people around you. From juggling clowns to contortionist freaks to children with gargantuan cotton candies, the carnival was just the place you’d imagined it to be. 

“Corn dogs, corn dogs, come one, come all!”

You were studying a yellowed fair map until your ears perked up at the sound of the snack vendor’s voice, whipping your head in the direction of the call. After wandering around for a while, you were sure you’d seen almost every ride, every game booth, every circus animal. That ride had worked up your appetite, and now you were a carnivorous predator. Nothing in the world mattered anymore— nothing but food.

You were close. You could feel it– well, smell it. There it was: the holy grail. You slowed your steps to behold the majestic sight. Feeling like a prince in shining armor on his way to collect his princess, you felt the wind billow in your skirt as you flipped your hair. Come to mama!

But of course, life didn’t like making things easy. Standing in the way of your precious dinner were those five dunderheads. No problem, you reassured yourself, tapping your foot on the ground. Patience is a virtue. This’ll only take a few minutes.

A few minutes felt more like a few hours. But at long last, they sauntered off and you stepped up to the stand.

“I’ll take two.” You jammed your hand into your skirt pocket and pulled out four wrinkled one-dollar bills.

“Sorry, those young fellas took the last ones. It’s about a 15 minute wait for the next batch, though.”

“Never mind, I’m leaving.” Your smile disappeared almost immediately; your angry meter was really peaking. You needed to blow off some steam before you really killed a man. Or five.

Just a few minutes away from the stand, you found yourself at a hammer game. This’ll do.

Wham! You brought that hammer down with the force of a thousand, fueled by your rage at those five jerks. It especially helped to envision their faces on the target.

Not too shabby! The weight went up pretty high, at least by your standards. Exhaling deeply, you placed your hands on your hips and grinned. It felt nice. Beat that, assholes!

“Wow, this looks fun! Let’s go give it a try!”

Oh, God. I didn’t mean it literally.

“Me first!”

“No, I’m going!”

“Step aside, peasants, bow down to your mighty Crown Prince!”

Out of all the places they could’ve gone, they just had to choose the hammer game.

Ding ding ding!

“Whaaaa, you did it first try! Won’t you gimme your prize, hyung?”

“Amazing! What would you like, young fella?” The booth tender showed the boy a massive selection of large stuffed toys.

“You guys are really intent on ruining my day, aren’t you,” you hissed, making no effort to mask your annoyance. Before the rest of them could upstage your performance in the hammer game, you stalked off in long, brisk strides.

––––

This sucks. This really freaking sucks. Even though you came to the carnival to enjoy yourself, you were feeling even worse than when you arrived.

Before you headed out, you figured you might as well take a full tour of the place and see if there was anything worth seeing. You weren’t going to let a bunch of boys from school ruin your fun at the carnival. For some bizarre reason, after wandering around for a bit, you kept finding yourself standing in front of the same ragged, purple tent with yellow stripes. It was as sketchy as sketchy got, and that was exactly what caught your eye. You were about to enter when a voice cut through the silence.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Let’s go there next! It looks so mysterious!”

Why me?

“Hell yeah, maybe we’ll meet a wizard!”

That was it. Something inside you snapped.

You whirled around to confront them once and for all. “Listen up. I don’t know what your problem is, but either you guys shut up or stop following me. I’m sick and tired of your stupid voices!”

“What– Wyann??”

“You were at the carnival too? What a coincidence running into you here!”

“Sure is a small world, isn’t it?” one of the boys exclaimed, licking his vanilla and chocolate swirl ice cream. Even his choice in ice cream flavors made your eyes twitch.

“Coincidence my ass. This is the fourth time you’ve gotten in my way since I’ve gotten here, and I’ve had enough. First, you just so happen to get on the only ride I decide to go on and shriek like you’re about to be murdered, then you take the last corn dogs– that was going to be my dinner, you know– and you––” That last part was too embarrassing to say out loud, so you waved your hand around instead. “Point is, you’ve done enough, haven’t you? Why don’t you leave me alone for once?!”

“Dude, what’re you talking about? When did any of that happen?” Yeonjun stepped in front, hands at his hips. “What is your problem, huh?”

“If we knew you were here, we would’ve said hi! You’ve got us all wrong, we wouldn’t do that on pur–” Huening Kai started.

“Spare me. The number of shits I give is about the same as the number of corn dogs in my stomach.”

“Okay, we’re really sorry if we bothered you, and we’ll try our best not to let it happen again. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be heading into this creepy tent to find ourselves a wizard.” Taehyun cut, an expression of pure glee plastered onto his face. He didn’t spare one glance at you when he said that.

“Hold it right there, nerds, I’m not done with—”

“Uhm…” Oh, great. Bread boy. “If you’re still hungry… do you want some ice cream?” He extended his waffle cone, a sticky, melted, half-eaten-with-drool-all-over-it abomination to prove his point. What, does he want me to knock that thing out of his hand? When he caught wind of your disgusted expression, he took the cone back and flushed in embarrassment. “I mean, not mine, of course. I’ll buy you a new one.”

You stood by silent and stone-faced as he went off to a nearby ice cream cart. A few minutes later, he came back with a vanilla-chocolate swirl akin to his own. You hated vanilla-chocolate with a passion.

“Here.” Bread boy held out the cone expectantly, his face scrunched into a small smile. “And don’t worry about paying me back. Think of this as an apology gift for all the trouble we’ve caused you.”

You continued to stare straight ahead.

“Aww, come on, Wyann. Truce?”

Still you said nothing.

“Wy—”

Splat. A sickly brown bled into the half-dead grass, mottled with strains of a bleak gray.

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” An angry pink had formed on the back of his hand, a mirror print of your palm.

“I don’t want anything to do with you guys. And you should know by now that I’m more trouble than I’m worth. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to be my friend. So do us both a favor and f*ck off, please.” That was it. There was no way you could’ve bottled that up any longer.

He didn’t say anything, his tingling hand frozen in place and disbelieving eyes taking in the murder scene. Without another word, you turned and walked into the tent. Even if it meant walking straight into an awkward situation, you weren’t letting anything else ruining the rest of your time there.

“Hey, Wyann! Nice of you to join us!”

“Hey.”

“Where’s ‘Bin?”

“Outside.”

“Hey, yeah, I’m here!” Well, shit. “Sorry, I was cleaning up my mess outside.”

You kept your gaze on the ground, bracing yourself for the whiplash of your assholery— which you very much deserved, of course— but to your surprise, that small smile of his was back on his face as if nothing had happened.

You were off the hook, but for some reason, a twinge of guilt struck at your heart.

Meanwhile, the rest of the boys were busy exploring the shop. From every oil painting to every nameless book lay a new story waiting to be told. There was so much to explore.

Walking past a bookshelf, a specific volume glinted at the corner of Taehyun’s eye, catching his attention. This seems interesting. He lifted the heavy book up carefully and turned it over in his hands.

Upon closer observation, he noticed that the book was covered in a thick layer of dust. There was an empty slot for it on the dark shelf, yet it had been sitting out collecting dust. Its pages were yellowed, its parchment crumbling with age. It looked like something from the library of a Medieval wizard, but not out of place in a fortune teller’s tent, yet he felt a strange connection to it. As if he were making a wish, the curious boy blew off the layer of dust on it.

Grey particles diffusing to the other parts of the tent, the title of the mysterious volume became visible.

The Tome of Spirit Summoning.

“Whoa, where’d you get that from?” Yeonjun said, eyes wide with surprise and curiosity.

“Ooh, open the book! Open the book!” Beomgyu urged, shoving a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

“Not before you put your food away,” the boy replied, carefully turning around to shield the ancient pages from flying popcorn grease. The other two rushed over to his side to see the contents of the mysterious book for themselves. He carefully flipped to the first page, where there was a fancy inscription in a language none of you understood. It looks like Latin.

Disinterested, you left that side of the tent and continued browsing elsewhere.

“So, anything interesting to see in this little hovel?”

“Excuse me, what do you mean by ‘hovel,’ young lady? This place is the highlight of the circus, a sacred emporium for the mystic.” Naturally, the owner of the hovel looked like a scraggly old hobo.

“I mean that your place looks like crap. Not exactly the most appealing, you know.”

His face immediately dropped into a frown. “What do you want-“

“But that’s exactly why I decided to come in. So what do you got in here, sir?” You sauntered through the shop, dragging your fingers along the shelves. “Let’s see, what do we have here? Crumbling books, organic soaps, dollar-store scented candles, relabeled antidepressants, preserved human innards…” you trailed off, deciding that the place was in fact, very creepy. But it left you more interested.

“Sir, what’s the coolest thing in the shop?”

“Probably that shelf of books over there,” he gestured to the shelf of books that was so hidden you wouldn’t even have noticed had Taehyun not found the book he was holding there. “They’re the intact volumes of the 16th century grimoires of spirits, complete with strange stories of the supernatural and their origins, how to conjure them and such. Of course, everything in this shop is precious to me, so I naturally take very good care of them.”

Boring. Then, something caught your attention. “Ooh, what’s that blue thing over there?” You pointed towards the object on top of the cabinet behind the fortune telling table.

“Sorry, that’s not for sale, missy.” His face grew dark, but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Then why would you leave it out?” Blue-hair piped in from behind you.

“You see, it belongs to a certain somebody I’m trying to find— wait a minute. How many in your group?”

“Do you need new glasses, mister? I’m by myself. Those guys over there are just five random dumbasses.”

“By my stars… could it be...?” Without warning, the old man got up in your face, his nose almost pressed to yours.

You recoiled, nearly backing up all the way into Bread Boy. After murmuring a quick apology, you glared daggers at the shopkeeper, but there was something about the look in his eyes that held you back.

“Beast of the eternal flame...we’ve looked long and hard for hundreds of years.”

“What the hell is that?”

“You there, with the sight, surely you know what I mean,” the old man insisted, pointing a shaky, bony old finger straight at Tae’s chest.

The boy blanched, but strangely enough, didn’t deny the man’s claim. “How could you tell?”

“Of course, because I’m the same as you.”

“Tae…?”

“In my vision, you children asked about the Tome— Could it be finally happening?” He began muttering incoherently to himself once more.

You were starting to get irritated. “Alright, I’m out, this isn’t funny. I don’t know if you’re getting a kick out of this sick joke, but I’ve had en—”

“Wyann, let’s hear him out… I’m not so sure this is a joke.”

“No. You can stay and listen to this nutjob yap on about psychic bull, but I’m out of here.” Before you could get smited by some magic voodoo crap, you noped tf out of there. At least, you were going to, until the voices in your head came a’raspin’.

Stay, daemon. Stray not from the path that belongs to you.

Oh, God, don’t tell me I’m a schizophrenic.

No matter how much you wanted to get out of that creepy place, you really couldn’t. It felt like your feet were getting rooted to the ground, and the only way to go was back. To avoid incurring the wrath of the voices in your head, you did a 180. Even without the voices, there remained an unsettling feeling in your stomach. It’s just the creepy atmosphere of the carnival, no biggie.

Your arms were crossed as you leaned against the cold stone wall, rolling your eyes for good measure. But as disrespectful as you appeared, you still kept your manners in check. “For God’s sake, just please explain what the f*ck is going on.”

“The mystical beast borne of the flames…..the Seer...the prophecy...the Tome.” The fortune teller started sweating profusely, his eyes turning glassy and his whole body shaking. “The configuration…..”

Okay, very helpful. Like we’re supposed to know what any of that crap means. This man sounds and looks like he’s high.

“What are you talking about, anyways, old geezer? Care to explain in English?” Blue-hair knew when to pop in and asked all the right questions. You figured you should at least try and learn his name– Yeonjun, wasn’t it?– but hair color was a much easier way to ID him.

Gasping, the geezer suddenly collapsed onto the floor. Then, crawling to a small cabinet in the back, he pulled at the drawer handle and fumbled for something. That thing turned out to be an inhaler, with which he promptly used to pump some air into his mouth. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he started again weakly. “I just got a vision, and I’m afraid it means something far beyond my ability to decipher.” With shaking hands, he reached for the odd configuration and set it on the low table in front of him. “This is a family heirloom, and if you can pass my test, you are allowed to take it. Would you like to bet on it?”

You looked around at the guys huddled around you, waiting for your response expectantly. Tucking your hair behind your ears, you shrugged. “Okay yeah, sure.”

“Miss, your hand, please.”

“You’re not going to do anything weird to me, are you?” Knowing that your question wasn’t going to get answered anyway, you held out your hand to the guru. I’m a dumbass for doing this. Well, if I die, then I die.

The five boys huddled around you, intrigued by what was going to happen. The fortune teller sat you down, then dipped your palm into a weird red liquid. Then, mumbling a few words, he held your (what you presumed to be) blood-dipped hand onto the surface of the object. As if the object were alive, it pulsed a little under your hand. Or maybe, your heart was just beating so fast you could feel it in your hand.

Once more, the guru took a deep breath as he held your hand down on the object, his eyes shifting underneath his eyelids. It felt like an eternity until Soobin suddenly spoke up, pointing to your left.

“What’s he doing with his hand?”

All of your heads turned towards the guru’s right hand, which looked like it was furiously tapping at his desk. Rat-tat, tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat. At first, it looked like he was just shaking. It took a moment for you to realize that it wasn’t just a nonsensical series of tapping—it was some sort of code.

“Could it be a code?” The boy who you knew as Huening Kai asked.

“...Morse Code.” Both you and the blonde-haired boy croaked out at the same time.

As the man kept humming and tapping, the bunch of you started to get excited.

“Oh shoot bro, grab your notebook! We gotta write this down!”

“Go, go, go! Why are you so slow?” Beomgyu urged, unzipping his older friend’s backpack.

“Hey guys, chill! What is this, Stranger Things?  Where we crack some Russian spy code shit?” Yeonjun responded, annoyed that his backpack was being dug into without his permission.

“Shut up, what if it means something?”

“Okay, I got the notebook, gimme a pencil—”

“Hey wait, doesn’t Taehyun know how to decipher morse code?” Soobin pointed out.

“Yeah! Wait, Tae, come over here!”

“...Tae? Are you okay?”

You were so caught up in the group’s chatter that you didn’t even realize one of the boys became oddly silent, but he quickly snapped to attention.

“Huh, what is it?” “Tell us what this says!”

Before the boy could respond to his friends, the guru’s eyes sprang open. His large orbs which once shone like tiger eye stones, were now dull and bloodshot, veins bulging out and magnified by the tears that clouded their surfaces. “Take it! Leave this place!”

Although the bunch of you began to sweat from the excitement, the room suddenly felt ten degrees colder. Or maybe it was just that your hands were cold and clammy.

“Uh, what’s going on?”

“Sir, are you alright? Would you like us to call an amb—” Yeonjun offered.

“I said, get out! Go away!” He clutched his head tightly, mumbling spells quietly as if to dispel something in his mind.

“O-oh, okay then,” you stood up, and were about to leave before the guru grabbed your wrist out of nowhere, making you jump.

“Beware of the blue moon. The flames are not going to stop licking the great gate. Remember who you are.”

Shaking off his grip, you clutched the bloodstained orb-like contraption in trembling hands. “You aren’t gonna die, are you?” It didn’t seem right to leave this old man on his own in the state he was in, but he looked like he might murder you or even give you rabies.

“Worry about yourself, first. Get out. I’m warning you––” Boom! “Okay, what the f*ck was that?” A large crash sounded, followed by the pitter-patter of heavy raindrops. It seemed uncanny that it would be raining this hard, given that it was the middle of June, the dry season, and that it had been 110ºF just a few hours ago.

“It wasn’t a bomb, was it?” Soobin shuddered, brows furrowed in fear.

“Are you dumb? It’s literally raining and there’s thundering outside!” Yeonjun shouted back.

“So? Bombs still go ‘boom’ whether there’s rain or not!”

“You’re such an idi––” “Uhm, guys? I think we have a bigger problem to be worrying about.” Huening Kai called from in front of the two of them, eyes widening in fear. “What?!” The two snapped in unison, their faces pinched in the same annoyed expression.

“In case you haven’t noticed, the tent’s kinda on fire. Come on, we have to go!”

“Then wouldn’t the rain just put it ou––”

“For f*ck’s sake, unless you guys want your sorry asses to be seared into five well-done idiot steaks, f*cking move!” One of your bad habits was excessive swearing when you were stressed, and it was starting to really f*cking show. Running back into the tent, you grabbed the two boys by their forearms and booked them out of there.

Without another argument, the six of you bolted for the exit as the tent began to fold in on itself, threatening to trap you in a wall of fire. It was hard to see straight through all the smoke and heat. You felt yourself slowly letting go of the boys’ arms you were holding just a few seconds ago. You were melting. Your body, your mind, who you were, the line between reality and fantasy, logic and reason; all of it melted into one fat pile of goop.

And then all of a sudden, like you were pulled out from deep waters, you could breathe again. You’d made it to the exit, and you were safe now. Looking up, you took a moment to soak in the rain, which washed over you like a cold shower. There was something about running for your life in the rain that made it all the more exciting.

Nature’s teardrops fell onto your skin, flowing down from your large eyes to your chapped lips, from your hairy arms to your mosquito-bite ridden legs. It felt nice to just stand in the cold. Somehow, through the flame and the weight of the new responsibility you now carried, you felt happy. So happy, in fact, that you flashed a smile at the guys behind you as you took a break from running, holding the blue contraption against your stomach.

But that smile quickly faded as you heard a hard thud behind you, followed by a sharp yelp.

“Ah… my ankle…” One of the boys was on the ground, arms hugging his left leg. Face pinched in pain, he attempted to get to his feet, but winced when he put his weight on his left side. He was the one that helped you find your econ class. The rest of the boys ran back to his side to see if he was okay, and you were right behind them.

“Beomgyu! Can you walk?” Massaging his ankle, the boy on the ground just shook his head. “I think it’s sprained.” “Here, get on my back. I’ll carry you.” Yeonjun kneeled in front of him, beckoning him to crawl onto his back, but after a moment’s thought, turned to face him and held his hands out as if he were proposing.

“...What? I can get up on my own—”

“I love ya. Will ya marry me?” “What the h–” “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Without a warning, he scooped the injured boy off his feet and carried him bridal style. Beomgyu opened his mouth to protest, but the other boy simply smiled wryly.

“What’s the matter, wifey? You want a kiss?” The threat of Yeonjun’s puckered lips was enough to shock him into submission. “Guys, what are we gonna do?” The question running through everyone’s minds was now in the air, and nobody had an answer for it. Silence descended upon the group; you were all waiting for someone to tell you where to go next, but each of you was as clueless as the person next to you.

“How long are you planning to stand around in the rain?” You spoke in the most classic Wyann voice you could muster: self-assured, blunt, somewhat irritated, and on top of the situation. The exact opposite of how you felt at the moment.

“Yeah, let’s just hurry and get out of here. I could use a bite to eat.” The other four clamored in agreement, and the group came to the consensus that they would figure things out over dinner. After a quick search on Google Maps, they set out for a small diner just a block away.

It was as if your feet were planted deep into the earth. You could only watch their backs as they walked down the street past the bus stop, as they walked away from the troubles of today, far beyond your reach. The frightened screams of the carnival-goers were drowned out by the sound of the sirens, but more so by the overwhelming silence that grew louder and louder in your head. But the strangest feeling was your heart sinking, as if it were washing down to your feet like rainwater through a waterpipe. Then, one of the silhouettes stopped and turned, then started towards you.

“Wyann. Aren’t you coming?” Bread Boy extended his hand for the second time that day, but this time, you took it. He wore an expression of surprise on his face, as if he expected you to not take it, which he quickly hid as you pulled him along. It was at that moment that maybe you’d decided he was not that terrible of a person.

The bunch of you walked down the road, a little too calmly for a group of kids who’d just escaped a fairground set ablaze. Little did you know, in the moment you slipped your hand into his, you had forsaken the world. Luckily, the world was a much uglier place than you had thought.

––––

It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Tae held the small object closer to his chest and his fingers curled around the matted tufts of its felt.

The plushie was caked in mud, battered by the rain and the dirt. It lay right by the side of the tent, and the fire would have caught it had he not scooped it up. It usually wasn’t his thing to pick up random objects off the ground, especially not chewed up kids’ toys (he wasn’t about to be the protagonist of some horror film), but something about it drew him to it. Probably his spidey senses acting up again. Not thinking much of it, he stuffed it into his pocket and ran.

Taehyun sprinted through the hellish landscape to catch up with his friends, racing against time as each tent fell after the last like dominoes. The voices were back again, the same ones that he thought had gone away ten years ago. But now, they were back, louder than ever. And they taunted,

Ring around the rosy

A pocketful of posies

Ashes, ashes

We all fall down!

The nursery rhyme continued on and on until its harmony subsided into dissonance. All the while, ashes rained down from the sky like snow until the ground was enveloped in a grey blanket.

[james-stark-the-writer-wips]

Of Witches And Demons - An Excerpt

Chapter 2: The Immortals. 

WC: 4000 words. Wanted to get this out asap tbh so it’s not the most polished thing but I hope you’ll forgive that and enjoy this!! If you wanna read a slightly more polished version, it’ll be up on wattpad soon so, 

LINK

(“Let’s go away a little. Different town, different people. Doesn’t matter where. Just know we’re not in Tenebris anymore although we will get back there soon. Does matter who. So pay attention.” Krilla said. Almadea nodded.)

“So,” Alice said, lighting the candle in her hand. “Who are we this time around?”

The forest was calm, quiet, isolated. They liked coming here a night. Listening to the crickets hiding in the grass, the hooting owls, seeing the moonlight giving everything a soft glow. It was magical. Even after so long, the magic hadn’t faded. The man beside Alice sighed as he looked away from the moon and towards her.

“Who do you want to be?” He took the candle from her. “Billionaires? Eccentrics? Business owners?”

“I can’t decide, Xan.” Alice said.

A soft breeze began to blow, carrying cool water along with it. The candle flame flickered as the wind blew past it. Xander put a hand around the flame to keep it from going out.

“So, you’re here. Took you long enough.” Xander said.

A branch crunched under the foot of the man walking towards Xander.

“I’m sorry I don’t finish as fast as you do, Xander.” The man said.

“You took an unusually long time.” Xander replied.

“I take a perfectly okay time, Xan. You’d think you’d know after two centuries together.” The man stopped in place. The wind began to die down.

“I should, I suppose.” Xan nodded. “Anyway, get over here, Cy.”

“So why the meeting outside?” Cyrus asked.

“I wanted to talk about our plans on Thursday.”

“Couldn’t we have had this conversation in the house?” He protested.

“I wanted the fresh air. Now get over here and stop whining.” Xander said. Cyrus let out a frustrated groan and walked over to the two of them.

“So, have you decided who we’re going to be?” Cyrus asked Alice.

“Well, I’m not sure yet. But definitely something new, someone we haven’t been yet.” She said.

“New, huh?” Cyrus chuckled softly.

“Let’s start at the basics. What have we been?” Xander said.

“Doctors, magicians, circus folk, philanthropists, bakers, politicians...” Cyrus began.

“So, what do you think, Alice?” Xander asked.

“How about ourselves?” Alice said.

“Don’t be naive, Alice. You know we can’t do that.” Cyrus said.

“I’m not saying tell everyone who we are.”

“Then what are you proposing, Alice? You know I hate vague people.” Cyrus leaned against a tree.

“Let’s be a family again instead of distant siblings. I’m tired of playing siblings.”

“Then, what? You wanna be my mother?” Cyrus scoffed.

“It’s not the 1800s, Cy.” Alice replied, picking up the candle and putting it to her nose. “You’d be my father. Besides, you are older than me.”

“You want me and Xander to be your fathers?” Cyrus said.

“Yes. And what’s the problem? You two used to date each other, right?” Alice vaguely pointed at both of them.

“There’s no problem, I’m just confirming.”

Xander interrupted before Cyrus could get another word in. “That’s fine and all, Alice, but what do we do? You know, for a living?”

“We’re rich, that’s for sure. I have had enough of being poor. We’re immortal, for fuck sake. There’s no fun being poor. Certainly not in this world.” She grumbled.

“Okay. Then you better come up with a good reason for us being rich.”

Alice pondered over it for a minute. What should they be? People would ask, that’s for sure. After so many years, Alice had learned that people couldn’t help but stick their noses in other people’s businesses. 

Alice snapped her fingers. “Ooh, how about you be oil princes?” She said. “We haven’t done that yet.”

“Both of us?” Cyrus asked.

“No. Don’t be silly. There’s no way anyone would believe that. It’d be more plausible if you started the business together after you met and fell in love or you started the business then fell in love but that feels old.”

“Then, what, pray tell, should we be? It’s your turn, Alice. Otherwise we skip your turn and we do my thing.” Xander said.

“No! We did your thing the last time we moved. I’ll think of something. Just give me a second.”

Cyrus sighed. “Okay, then. Take the night to sleep on it. We have a long trip ahead of us soon, anyway.”

“At least we’re sure of the location, yes?” Alice asked.

Xander nodded. “Yes. That hasn’t changed.”

“Where was it again?” Cyrus asked.

“You know where it is.” Xander said.

“I wasn’t listening when you said it.”

“You’ve got to start paying more attention, Cyrus. You’re wasting that photographic memory of yours.”

“Please, let’s not do this right now, Xan. Just tell me where we’re going. And let’s let Alice decide till tomorrow, yes?”

“Sure, whatever.” Xander let out a soft sigh. “We’re going to Tenebris.” He turned to Alice. Let’s go.” He put a hand on Alice’s back and turned to Cyrus. “You coming?”

“Go on ahead. I’ll catch up. I’m going to enjoy some of that fresh air you dragged me out here for.” Cyrus said. 

Xander handed him the candle and began to walk away. 

“Where the fuck is Tenebris?” Cyrus called out.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Xander kept walking.

“Don’t be vague, Xan.” Cyrus shouted but Xander and Alice had already walked away. 

A slight smile crept onto Cyrus’s face without permission as looked up at the moon, its glimmering light illuminating the entire forest in a silver blanket. Anyone who says the night is evil has never looked at the moon. He thought.

He put his hands in his pockets. The air seemed to grow colder every passing second. He could smell the fresh, wet grass from last night’s shower. It clung to the air like glue, filling it with a soft hint of earthiness everywhere.

He began to walk back towards the mansion they currently resided in. They owned the forest (at least parts of it) and the mansion. They’d bought it to make sure the number of tresspassers and onlookers would go down and it had helped a lot, actually.

But people were getting suspicious. It was time to pack up and move, as they did every twenty or so years, whenever they thought someone was onto them. They’d lived in France, Italy, Russia, Switzerland, India, Japan, Canada, Brazil, Mexico and every big city and country in the world. Now they’d had enough of the city life — one of the primary reasons they’d moved to this town from NY, in fact —  and wanted to move somewhere more quiet and peaceful. 

While cites sure had their advantages —  a prominent one being everyone was too busy to give a shit about new people in town — it got lonely over time. And even in big cities, there was no escaping nosy neighbours.

Though it had been only nine years in this town, they’d decided to move somewhere they could live in peace. A place where they wouldn’t have to worry about getting shot or killed and being found out. This town had its charm but even it’s residents were wondering why the people in the mansion didn’t seem to age a day in the last few years. They’d started believing the ‘good genes, I guess’ excuse even less every time it was told to them.

Cyrus had personally seen what happened when humans found out about one of them being an Immortal.

When Cyrus had been granted the opportunity to be an Immortal, there were eight of them. Now, only Cyrus and Xander remained of the original eight. The others had either died, left to live in isolation or moved away to try their best to stay out of regular human business, trying to live normal lives unhindered.

Alice had only recently – 167 years ago, to be precise – joined them but she was a fine addition. She was the first woman to be turned in almost five centuries.

Cyrus took in a deep breath, letting all of nature’s beautiful smell consume his body as if tasting wine. He took his hands out of his pockets and blew on them to warm them up a bit. It was freezing out here.

Time to head back, he thought as he turned around and began to walk uphill back to the mansion.

With over twenty rooms in the mansion, the place was fit for kings (and had actually once belonged to a prince, of sorts). Everything about this place screamed ‘We have too much money’. Which wasn’t a bad thing, really. They had actually helped build an orphanage in the city, which had finished construction three weeks ago.

The mansion sat alone on a cliff, with no houses for miles and no one to disturb them. From the balcony, you could see the entire town in all its glory.

In one corner, smoke arose from the town’s bakery as Keith, the owner of said bakery, baked the last bread of the day, shutting down for the night. 

In another corner, if you lived in a mile radius, you could her Mrs. Radley screaming at her husband for being home late again. As the clock struck ten, the town began to close up, with only the twenty four hour pharmacy and the famous Powers’ Coffee Shop staying on.

Even in this small town, you could see a few people sitting in the coffee shop, writing away on their laptops all night long. It was the students from the nearby college that came out to Powers’ for their famous coffee.

Justin Powers and a single employee kept the shop open all day with them looking after it during the day while Justin’s son Max looked after it at night. 

And their coffees were delicious. And, thankfully close by to Joanna’s Pie Shop, the best pies you’ll ever taste.

And in two days time, they would all be a faint memory, never to be seen again, if possible.

Cyrus made his way into the mansion. All the lights had been turned off, no surprise there, and Alice had gone to bed.

Xander, on the other hand, sat by the fireplace, a glass of expensive whiskey in hand and a novel in the other.

“I’m gonna go sleep, Xan. I’ll see you in the morning.” Cyrus said.

“Mmhmm.” Xander said, flipping a page in his book.

Cyrus walked up the stairs and found his way to his bedroom, the smallest of all the rooms in the mansion, and crawled into bed, pulling the covers onto him.

He reached under his bed and grabbed the long stick he kept there. He quickly extended it to the opposite wall and flicked off the light switch. He put the stick back in its place and opened the curtains behind his bed. As he closed his eyes, he found sleep quickly.

-

As the sun rose above the horizon, Alice woke up, yawning, gently outstretching her arms. She had given much thought to what they should be… and nothing seemed as exciting as good old star crossed lovers. Ala gay Romeo and Juliet. Except without the dying part.

She pushed the bed covers aside, heading straight for the bathroom. She couldn’t wait to tell Xan and Cy what she’d chosen. As she took a quick shower, she began to iron out the details of how it would work and what their story would be. Sure, star crossed lovers was old and cliche, but it was perfect. To be honest, she was always trash for Shakespeare and star crossed lovers. This was a perfect pit. Besides, they’d been siblings for far too long.

About twenty minutes later, the clock rang nine and Alice stepped out of the shower, quickly drying herself off and slipping on a nice pair of jeans and a plain red t-shirt.

She rushed down the stairs, jumping two steps at a time, making her way to the dining table where a sleepy Cyrus sat, slowly sipping on his coffee. Besides him sat Xander eating his regular bowl of cornflakes.

“Guys!” Alice said, rushing to take a seat besides Cyrus.

“Please, just…softer.” Cyrus said, halfway through a sip.

“Just listen. I’ve decided.”

“About?” Xan asked

“Our cover.”

“Alice. Softer.” Cy scolded.

“Shut up, dick.” Alice snarked. She turned her attention to Xan. “So, our cover. I know what we wanna be.”

“Alice, you know what we say about cussing at the table.”

“You’re not my dad!” Alice said.

Xander had a rule about being civilized at the table. It was a surprise he’d managed to uphold it all these years, especially with Alice and Cyrus in the house — half their vocabulary was curse words.

“Well I’m gonna be soon, apparently so you better start listening, right?” Xander retorted.

“Ugh, I hate you.” Alice groaned.

“Perfect. Means I’m being a good parent.”

“So much wrong with that statement but we don’t have the time to explain all that. Anyway can you just listen to me?”

“Alright alright. Go on, I’m listening.” He shoved a spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth.

“Right. Our story. You two are, drum roll please,” She paused until Xan put down his spoon and reluctantly did a little series of taps on the table, “star crossed lovers.”

“Good god.” Cyrus sighed. “Why did we let her choose again?”

“I can hear you, you know.” Alice said.

“Her birthday comes up soon. It’s her gift.” Xan reminded, not noticing it was a rhetorical question.

“So,” Alice continued, unfazed. “I’ve been thinking all night and Xan was the rich guy…”

“Obviously.” Xan said, taking a bite of his food. Alice rolled her eyes.

“Would you just let me tell it?”

“Okay!” Xan backed off. “Sorry.”

“Right, so, Xan was the rich guy. You met at a mutual friend’s party, had drinks together and hooked up. Cyrus was still in the closet at the time and his dad was super homophobic. But, you kept seeing Xan because you felt a connection. When you meet him the second time, three days have passed. Xan sees you and says, “I’ve been waiting for you.” And you ask, “For three days?” and he nods and you kiss him in public for the first time. You stay over for the night but the next day your dad finds out. He’s threatened to cut you off if he sees you with Xan again.” She paused for a breath.

“But, you like him so much, you risked being broke. Your family isn’t super rich, but you do pretty well. You went off to live with Xan and your dad said he cut you off. But, your dad suddenly falls ill only you don’t learn that until a week later when your mom calls you to his funeral. He couldn’t bear to see you go and he died of a heart attack. When his will is read after the funeral, you realize he never took you out of it. In fact, he left you most of his possessions. You give a lot of it to your mom and you and Xan continue living together. After two years, you have an amazing fall wedding. Then the year after that, you adopted me from an orphanage at age six or something. At this point, Xan is 28 and Cy, you’re 26. And since then, it’s been like eight or nine years and now I’m starting high school.”

Xan almost spit out his milk. “Wait, hold up. You’re going to high school?”

“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t really get to go back when I turned and I haven’t really been to one since. It’ll be a good learning experience. Plus what am I gonna be? Homeschooled? I need to start hanging out with people my own age!”

“Good luck finding a hundred and seventy year old people. Do you need me to buy you a graveyard, hon?” Cyrus teased. Alice ignored him.

“It’s going to be awful. You haven’t been to school for what, a hundred and sixty eight years at this point?” Xander said.

“Sixty seven.” Alice corrected. “Sixty eight next month.”

“Yeah, a lot has changed since then.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll pick things up quick.” Alice reassured him. “Plus there will be cute boys and girls there.” She added softly.

“You can’t be serious.” Cyrus put his cup down, fully awake now, and turned to Xander for an answer.

“Oh, come on, Xan.” Alice begged.

“Eh, let her do it. She’ll be fine. You know how she can be if she doesn’t get what she wants.” Xan resigned, after some thought. He continued eating.

“Yay!” Alice squealed, jumping out of her seat. “You lose, I win!” She stuck her tongue out, making a face at Cy. He ignored her.

Alice blew a raspberry. She turned to Xan. “So, when do we leave?”

“Tomorrow afternoon, earlier if we can manage it.” He chewed on his food before continuing. “Start packing, say your goodbyes.”

“Great. I’m gonna go do that then.” Cy stood up and left the room.

“I’m gonna go to Joanna’s then. Grab some breakfast and say goodbye.”

“Bring something back for me and Cy, yeah?” Xan said.

“Sure.” Alice grabbed her coat, her purse, the car keys and rushed out the door.

-

Joanna’s Pie Shop was a quaint little shop, tucked between a McDonald’s and a Starbucks. But it got by surprisingly well, all because of how goddamn delicious Joanna’s pies were.

Alice had eaten a lot of things in her relatively small existence but having had a taste of Joanna’s pies was her most proud moment. 

“Joanna!” She called out as she pushed open the door and walked in.

“Coming, darling!” Joanna’s voice came from inside the kitchen. “Just getting some pies ready. Be out in a minute. Take a seat.”

Alice took a seat on the black bar stools by the counter and sat patiently as she waited for Joanna to come out.

Joanna arrived from the kitchen with thick gloves and trays with steaming hot pies, her apron covered in flour.

“Hot from the oven!” She announced, placing the tray on the counter and slipping off the thick gloves. “Want a slice?”

“Yeah.” Alice said. “A full Chocolate Coconut Creme for me, two slice of green apple for Cy and a slice of Pumpkin pie for Xander.”

“Coming right up.” Joana said. “Feel free to help yourself to some coffee if you want.” She grabbed a mug from behind her and handed it to Alice.

“Thanks, Jo. You’re the best.”

Joana smiled before disappearing back into the kitchen.

As Alice sipped on her coffee, Joana walked out of the kitchen with the pies. “Here ya go, hon.” She quickly stuffed them into a large box and handed it to Alice.

“Thanks. How much is it?” Alice asked.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s on the house. I’m in a good mood today. Plus you’ve already done so much for us.”

“Oh, come on, Jo. This’ll be the last time you get to charge me.”

Joana gave her a puzzled look, “What do you mean, hon?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about…” Alice said. 

“You’re not dying or nothing, right, hon?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Alice reassured her.

Joana let out a deep sigh of relief “Well, good. Then what is it?”

“We’re moving. Me, Xan and Cy.”

“Moving?” Joana gasped. “Where?” 

“It’s far. That’s all I can tell you about it. It’s family business.”

“But you’ll come back eventually, right?” Joana asked.

“No, I’m afraid not. We’ll be staying there permanently.” Alice said softly.

“Permanently?” Joana couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Alice nodded. “So, this is… technically, goodbye.”

Joana choked up. “When uh— When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. Afternoon. Maybe earlier.”

“Oh. Alright then.” Joana cleaned her hand on her apron and wiped off a tear.

“I’m sorry, it’s just the decision was so sudden. We made plans last night.”

“No, it’s fine. Just, before you leave, promise me you’ll stop by one last time? For old times sake?”

“I’ll try, Jo.”

“No, promise me, Alice. Just stop by before you leave. It shouldn’t take very long.”

“I’m sorry, it’s out of my hands. But I’ll try my best.”

“Very well then. I hope you come.” Joana started to go back in the kitchen.

Alice held up the box. “Joana? How much?”

“Like I said, Alice. They’re on the house. Enjoy them. I’m not gonna charge you and that’s final.”

Alice smiled. “I’m gonna miss you, Jo.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, hon.” Joana disappeared back into the kitchen.

Alice sighed and walked out of the shop.

-

The next day came quickly and everyone rushed frantically to stuff their things into a million bags. It’s insane how much junk you collect over the years. A lot of it would go into the storage facility they’d kept over the years but beyond that, everything else they were attached to came with them.

This time, the furniture, most of the paintings, the utensils, some small things and other stuff they didn’t want all stayed. They’d decided to donate the mansion to the city and open it to the public for free use by anyone. Xander had even talked to some of the townspeople to turn it into a lodging for the homeless free of cost of something similar. But now they had to leave so who knew what would happen to the house?

The truck came, the important stuff was loaded in and Cyrus and Alice sat in the car, waiting for Xander to lock everything up and bring out his bags. Finally, he did come out and got in the car.

“Ready?” He asked, putting on his seatbelt.

“Yeah.” Cyrus said. 

“Hey, Xan, you mind if we stop by Joana’s? She asked me to stop by if we could.”

“What’s the time right now?”

“It’s uh, 1:36 pm.” Cyrus said.

“Sure. We’ve got some time to kill. I guess that’d be alright. Plus I have to go give the house keys away too.”

“Great. Just drop me off at hers then and come pick me up after you’re done.”

“Alright, give me a second to go tell the driver the plans have changed.” Xander said, getting out of the car. He returned quickly.

“He’s gonna go ahead and he’ll be waiting on the outskirts of town for us to lead the way.”

“Cool.” Cyrus said. “Turn the AC on and let’s go already.” He put in headphones and lied down on the backseat, using his forearm as a pillow. “And wake me up when we get there.”

Xander sighed. “Fine.”

The car whirred to life.

-

Joana stood idly in the shop, expectantly staring at the door, waiting for Alice and the other two to arrive.

As she saw their car turning the bend, she rushed out from behind the counter and ran outside.

“You came!” She said as Alice opened the car door.

“Yeah.” Alice said.

“No, no don’t get out.” Joana said. “Or I’m going to start crying and I don’t want to ruin my makeup. “Just wait here, I’ll be back in a second.”

“O-okay.” Alice said.

“What’s wrong?” Xander asked.

“She told me to wait here.”

“Fine.” Xander said.

Joana reemerged from the shop carrying a large box of pies. She quickly handed it to Alice.

“What’s this?” Alice asked, opening the box. 

“It’s my coveted smores pie. With extra marshmallows. Made them specially for you this morning.”

“Thank you, Joana.”

“I’m gonna miss you, hun.” 

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Alice said.

“Now go, before the waterworks start.” Joana said.

Alice nodded, closing the car door. As the car drove away, Joana waved a last goodbye.

-

Almost thirty six straight hours of driving later, Xander called out for Cyrus who had woken up and gone to sleep multiple times at this point.

“Cy, we’re almost there.” Xander said.

“We’re here?” Cyrus sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Just about. We’ll be there in five.”

“Great.” Cyrus said.

The car slowly cruised along the road, the truck following behind as they passed into Tenebris’s borders. 

“Welcome to Tenebris, babe.” Xander said to Cyrus. 

“I am not calling you babe.” Cyrus said.

“You better start.” Xander said. “Our daughter wants us to, don’t you, hun?”

“Mmhmm.” Alice said.

“Fuck you both.” Cyrus said.

“Yeah, love you too, babe.”

Cyrus let out a frustrated groan. God, he wished this wouldn’t last long. It already felt weird. But, here they were: in Tenebris, a town smackdab in the middle of fucking nowhere. And for a while, this would be their home.

*

[peacefulwriter88]

Part One: Carried Away in A Chariot

Steve Rogers X Reader WoC, Bucky X Reader WoC

Warnings: None

A/N: This will be in three parts and was inspired by Hades & Persephone Mood board. This occurs after the snap where I optimistically believing Steve survives but how he deals with the PTSD. Half of this, like always, is inspired by @geminimoonbeamx and the other has been on my mind after the Endgame trailer.

How do you kill a god?

You rob them of love and loyalty. They will be alone and unhappy, and eternity will seem like a punishment, but it is not death.

                        - Hera, Queen of the Gods

Disappointment hung over him like a cloud, followed him everywhere. Before it was just his psyche that was attacked by the darkness that loomed over him, promises of death that echoed in his subconscious when he slept; images that haunted his mind when he closed his eyes.

Now he carried it like a weight, burdened on his back as he sloppily navigated through the world. He had no desires anymore.

Life had given him the gift of death. To have to breathe it everyday, bear witness to its effect without the power to change the outcomes. He felt like a ferryman, responsible for the living souls of today with the  promised that he’d have to kiss them goodbye tomorrow. He was death on earth, walking in flesh form and he didn’t know how to console it

And yet he stayed.

No matter how much he fought, no matter whatever the evil was that he had to attack it was death that eluded him - not life. And when he had fixed all that had shifted wrong, turned dust back into bone and flesh, to rewind time and save the world from genocide he still remained.

And thus the disappointment lingered.

He was a walking god of the underworld.

“Perhaps you just need to get away?” Natasha had suggested one evening, walking down the cold narrow streets of New York that no longer held the same color. Now he only saw drab colors of black and blue that tarnished his eyesight, burdened his shoulders.

“Go where? I feel like I spent five years getting away. I’m tired of running. I’m tired.”

Natasha didn’t know the answer.

“Maybe you stop….stop being Captain America Steve. You don’t have to be the man that saves the world all the time.”

This time from Bucky who sat across from him in a coffee shop, the a cup of hot coffee cradling his vibranium and flesh arm as his eyes flickered around the cafe. Eight months after the snap and his friend was operating and functioning like nothing had ever occurred. Despite the explanations that Steve had to communicate with him and the others - how he and a few others had to watch his friend disappear in front of his own eyes - Bucky remembered nothing. Nor Sam or Tony or  T’challa or anyone. Instead, they jumped back into their roles head first, like nothing had ever been wrong.

It made Steve snap.

“Right. So I can sit her and broad more. No thank you.”

He looks out the window at the snow, blistery and wet and painting the streets with its evidence. He hated this time of year, hated when the cold weather moved from being nostalgic and romantic and just became a nuance. It was the kind of snow that was light and consistent, black residue sticking to the roads, splashing onto the concrete sidewalks and the annoyed New Yorker’s who were stuck walking to and from their destination in the wet coldness.

Bucky sighs, Steve knows he wants to tell him something but the bell in the cafe rings again, causes the super soldier to shift his eyes over to the door - to the line where you stood. Steve doesn’t have to look behind him to know that it's you - he can faintly smell your perfume of flora above the smell of milk and coffee. Can hear the soft sounds of Tchaikovsky blare from your headphones, the sound of you pulling off your mitts.

“You should just ask her out.” Steve says lowly and Bucky ducks his head, takes a sip of his coffee.

“No way Steve.”

Steve shrugs,

“Life’s too short to - “ he stops himself, chuckles. What did it matter - Bucky wasn’t going to ask you and Steve stopped caring enough to urge his friend.

“She’d never go for it.” Bucky echoes like he always does, low morose tone and all.

Steve picks up his coffee, takes a sip.

“Your loss.”

He doesn’t understand how one can love something so strongly and yet be annoyed by it. Humanity was wearing on him. Their laughter, their remorse, their desires and their laments. Sam moved out of the tower, decided to get an apartment in uptown and Steve only decided to move in after having to deal with his co-workers for a year after the snap.

They were tiresome.

Tony may have actually lost his fucking mind. Steve wouldn’t put it past the older man - isolated in space for weeks on the verge of starvation sounded like enough to make any one human break into two and Tony was always heavily affected by his emotions. Natasha stoically operated through the world like nothing had ever occurred and for some reason that annoyed him. Wanda walked around in depressive remorse - Vision was gone and gone for good. He didn’t’ know how to tell her that it was the consequence of power - to be given a gift and robbed of loved. Bucky was so love strung over you that it was the last straw for Steve - he had to get out.

Brooklyn wasn’t his Brooklyn so he claimed Astoria with Sam like his own.

It worked out nicely for the pair of them.

He still walked the 17 blocks to the coffee shop he liked to sit at, the black coffee perfectly bitter and warm - the residents not giving him any mind. The Captain America in their mind had died when he saved the world and the man that was operating was foreign to them. He was okay with that. It gave him silence, the refuge he needed.

He does this consecutively for weeks, winter changing into spring,  spring into autumn and autumn into winter. Goes through the motions, alone, a cup of coffee and pencil and pad in his possession that he never touches.

That’s before the shift.

It’s in April and it's cold outside though spring has already tried to combat the winter cold. Buds growing on trees, wind blowing dead grass away to make room for new.  He sits, like he always does in the cafe, alone. His phone lights up, a few texts from Bucky and Sam - a voicemail from Natasha but it doesn’t matter. He wants to draw again, wants the breath of inspiration that allows him to see things - people and humans beyond an ash colored lens but he’s frozen.

He looks over at the ivory paper of his sketch notebook, blank minus the charcoal pencil that laid on top of it and sighs, his hands itching to pick up the drawing device but knowing it was to no avail.

The bell of the cafe door rings, his ears pick up on it and he’s rewarded with your perfume again. Jasmine, it's intoxicating and sweet but he doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t look your way. In fact, he had no idea what you looked like. Identified you only by the sweet smell of your perfume - he hadn’t cared enough to look behind him the first time that Bucky had identified you and all the times after.

You were just background noise.

Except today your smell nears him, dangerously close, until he feels the warmth of your body emanating off of you and you hesitate before you clear your throat,

“Excuse me I don’t mean to interrupt but…..would you mind sharing the table?”

He looks up at you and is greeted with the sun.

Your smile is soft, friendly and your eyes are wide and dangerous, the dark pink tinge of your lipstick a contrast to the hue of your skin, brightens it. Your hair pulled up into a bun, hands holding a book and cup of tea safely.

“Or not. Its justs…...really crowded in here and I’d much rather share a table with you than the old man who is licking his lips at me.”

He stares at you, unable to find words but nods, shifts his notebook to make room for you.

“Thank you,” you move into the seat fluidly, delicately before you place your bag near your leg. A long sliver of pink silk slips out, a sliver of a ballet shoe that you tuck back into the bag before you open your book. “Promise I won’t bother you. Just here to read for a bit.”

And you don’t. He spends the hour watching you, probably borderline ass creepy as Bucky stares out at you and you’re none the wiser, head bent over your book as you sip your tea until it's gone. Then you gather your things, thank him for sharing the table and your gone.

Despite your absence, your smell lingers and he feels something stir in him. It's not until hours later, when he’s standing on his balcony in the safety of darkness that he realizes that its longing.

And that he wants to see you again.

You don’t show up to the cafe for three days and its three days enough that tells him to let you go. That no good come from his new interest. He was a broken man and you were life. Better not to drag you down in flames.

‘Besides, Bucky was in love with you’ he tells himself but he knows that he doesn’t care about that, not really. He had started drawing again. Vivid drawings of the events of the past, dark and treacherous and life like.

“Those are kinda freaky aren’t they Steve?” Sam had noted, looking over the large super soldiers frame one evening and drinking the vivid imagery of the death of  Thanos, noting the rest of the Avengers.

“It's what happened isn’t it?” Steve says lowly and Sam nods, walking away. The drawings were disturbing but at least his friend was drawing again. Sam was worried about Steve. He was different. Curt, abrasive, annoyed. Motivated by missions but not truly invested in the outcomes. He knew he was depressed - understood why. Sam understood that he had died - then come back none the wiser - and could understand that to experience the loss of friends where they couldn’t even remember may play a number on the psyche.

For Steve it was evolving into darkness.  

Steve is aware Sam is worried but doesn’t comment on it. Reads all the PTSD books Sam leaves around, occasionally chats with him but pretends that everything is fine. Knows it doesn’t convince Sam but honestly doesn’t care enough to put on the facade that he should. Instead, he escapes the cages of the indoors and greets spring.  The weather is bright, sunlight emerging and rain showers slowly becoming less frequent. He’s always had an infinity for Central Park but after the defeat of Thanos couldn’t stand the large, expansive area. Reminded him too much of how delicate the life balance was. Now, he liked to sit on benches for hours and watch birds emerge from their wooden sanctuaries and bunnies frolic in the budding grass - moms with babies in carriages and kids who giggle pleasantly as they run in child wonder.

When he’s done he goes to the cafe, orders his coffee, starts sketching. Shadows barely captured by light, fine details of the nightmares that haunt his mind.

“You’re drawing again,”

Your voice is sweet, your tone smooth as you ease through each syllable that slowly falls from your lips. He looks up at you, drinks in the book in hand and tea with a smile dancing on your face.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

He should say no, should leave and give you the table for yourself. But he finds himself smiling, the first time in what feels like years and it feels unfamiliar as he waves his inky hands across the table.

“Please.”

You both sit in silence,  you reading ‘A Cautionary Tale for Young Vampires’ and him drawing, sipping on your beverages pleased to be in a moment where you can step away from your day to day nuances and focus on the small pleasures.

You both order three cups each, share a large coffee cake and are asked nicely by the owner to leave before you escape back into the reality of your worlds.

“It was nice seeing you again,” you say as you walk out in the fresh night air, grabbing your phone - your headphones. “Your drawings are nice. I’m glad you’ve found your….inner-voice again. So to speak”

He nods, smiles at you once more as he drinks in your frame in the waning light. The way the orange, rose and blue blend together, highlighting your silhouette, hair pulled back as your dark eyes glisten in the light. He should pull away, take this gift for what it is and be grateful for it.

But he’s hungry for you, likes the small flame you’ve ignited in his dark heart and he finds his voice to say as you turn to walk away,

“Wait!”

It takes you both off guard and you stop, raise a brow as you look at him.

“How do you feel about zoos?”

You are the light he doesn’t realize he needs. Draws your image for five days until he sees you next.

“Who’s the girl?”  Sam asks one night, Natasha and Wanda peeping into Steve’s studio as he move onto another canvas - onto you. Sam’s happy that Steve’s moved on from the dark images of his nightmares, unable to face them in the safety of the light and Wanda and Natasha want to know who’s inspired this new mood.

“You like her,” Wanda says curiously, her psychic brain reading his betrayed thoughts and it's the first time he’s heard her be so positive. That is, until his brain betrays him and she reads the dark secret of you, tsks disappointedly. “I won’t tell him but you should care. He is your friend.”

“Tell who what?” Natasha asks, following the European redhead who walks away from him, her disappointment obvious.

She never shares.

Instead allows him to meet up with you at Central Park, to watch happy emotions play over your face. You find positivity in everything. From the zoo animals to the families who walk by, to the rain that falls on the both of you as he grabs your hand and pulls you to shelter to the nearest tree he can find as you both leave the zoo.

“This isn't safe.” you say, the dress you were wearing sticking to you. A little pink number that reminds him of a time where he was younger and weaker, the red floral design highlighting your frame. He doesn’t care that he boldly drinks in your nipples that were puckering from the cold or that he could see your panties paint your ass. .

He wants to remember how it feels to touch another human again.

“What isn’t?” he says instead.

“Hiding under a tree. We could get electrocuted. You should know this Captain America.” you laugh, exaggerating his title and though it annoys him he can’t help but give an off handed smile.

There’s a flash of lightning, followed by a dark grumble of thunder that shakes the earth and causes you to jump naturally into his arms, gripping his thick biceps as you turn and look around. He takes the moment to drink in your vulnerable features, the softness of your cheek, the length of your eyelashes as they kiss your cheek. Your arms are strong, reminds him of your dancing physique and the strength that your body carries. When the thunder  passes, rain falling heaver you turn your face up to him. Your lips are plump from you biting them in fear and raindrops fall in disarray down your face greedily and he sighs.

Angels weeped of the inception of your beauty.

“I rebuke death it would seem so if you need safety, you’ll most likely find it in my arms.”

Its meant to be a joke but he knows he fails at the delivery - humor had never been one of his stronger characteristics. You watch him curiously, tilt your head curiously before you whisper,

“Death evades us for as long as we need to learn a lesson from living.”

He’s intrigued by your thoughts but distracted by the way your face has contorted, sadness etched in your faces beauty and he wants to bend down and kiss you while he whispers against your lips that it will be okay. Instead, you break away and look off into the distance,

“I know a bit about that. When the snap happened….I lost everyone and yet I remained. And when they returned -  it was as nothing changed. My mother knew nothing that had happened to me in eight months I had learned to mourn and accept her death. She cradles me still like a child despite the fact I’ve been on my own for ten years and she still doesn’t hear the secret I whisper out into the night. That I’ve blossomed into a woman long before she left and will continue to thrive long after she’s gone.”

Your hands are warm over his arms, even through the layer of his jacket and you blink back up at him and smile,

“You didn’t need to know that. Let’s make a run for it and grab a coffee. Its three and I haven’t had my fourth cup.”

You’re gone from his embrace long before he can mourn it. He stands in wonder  as he watches the way you spritely run through the rain, turning back and smiling at him, your dress dancing along your legs.

Like morning glories that raise their petals to the rays of sunlight he’s found himself drawn to you, needing your spirit to pull out his beauty.

He’s a different man. Still dark and brooding and withdrawn, but there’s something different about him. Bucky can't put his hand on it, watches his best friend operate with the same motions but there’s just something off. He was different. Gone most of the time and even when he was around he wasn’t there. Head buried in a new book or in his sketch pad or speaking lowly on the phone. Bucky’s found leftover ticket stubs to three ballets, had no idea that the romantic in Steve still lived and took him to such shows.  

“I think he’s dating someone.” Natasha finally admits out loud as her, Sam and Bucky lay out on the living room floor one evening, high and watching constellations dance above them from the safety of the tower.

“Steve doesn’t date.” Bucky mumbles, eyes half closed and Sam pauses, hesitates,

“I’d normally agree with you Bucky but…...I don’t know. I caught him ordering flowers and he’s always gone and he’s always drawing her, the mystery woman. I swear I found a stub to the ballet but Steve denies it.”

“Holy shit,” Natasha sits up and looks at them. “So have I!”

“Me too.” Bucky agrees, intertwining his fingers together as he closes his eyes.

It’s Sam who nods and shakes his head,

“Not to mention, he comes home smelling like jasmines. Has to be a girl a woman that’s marked her scent on him.”

Bucky pauses, can’t move. His brain racks back to you -the first time that he saw you. Your scent that had caught his attention in the cafe he and Steve had learned to love. It was an autumn day and you were wearing a flowy skirt, a knit sweater covering your tank top. Ballet shoes slipping out of your bag, listening to Chopin and reading the menu of the coffee shop as the sun hit your face perfectly. You smiled at the elderly couple that asked if they could go before you, not hesitating at all as you offered your spot. You had briefly looked at him, smiled, before returning your eyes back to the menu.

“It’s Jasmine,” Steve had said underneath his breath, blue eyes temporarily meeting Bucky’s before returning out of the window, into the busy streets of New York. Voicing the question that was already on Bucky’s mind.

“She smells like Jasmine.”

Tag List:  @ssweet-empowerment@capsofwinchesters@tacohead13@harleycativy@pietrotheavenger@francezka10@papichulosebastian@obsessionsofmynerdheart@melaninmarvel@avengedqueen26@nasteaxluvgal@winterbuttmunch@nys30@buckyslongasshair@ohlumi @wellthirsted @gifsbysimplysonia @misskenni

[lupinlongbottom]

Honey

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) tries to enjoy a beautiful day near the lake, only to be interrupted by Fred Weasley. He needed help on a Potions assignment, but grew quite intrigued by another book in (Y/N)’s possession.  

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: None, just fluffy goodness.

A/N: Fluffy fluff! That’s all this is. Slightly self indulgent I guess? (Y/N)’s favorite book growing up was my favorite too lol. Ah well. 

__

The wind was blowing slightly, the breeze bringing the scent of spring. Flowers and the faint smell of leather Quidditch gear far from the pitch wafted along the wind. It was (Y/N)’s favorite time of year at Hogwarts, especially when she sat under a rather large tree on the edge of the lake, the water reflecting the sun brightly on it’s crystal surface. (Y/N) leaned against the trunk, closing her eyes gently. It truly was a perfect day.  

“Oi! (Y/N)!” A voice shrieked. (Y/N) opened an eye curiously, trying to find the source of the sound. No luck. She closed her eye again, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. “What’s the matter (L/N)? Didn’t hear me?” She opened both eyes this time, only to be met with one Fred Weasley.

“I heard you,” (Y/N) said automatically. “Didn’t want to answer s’all.”

“Ouch! That hit me hard (Y/N). Hurt my pride a bit.” Fred said, flopping down on a patch of grass near her, laying flat on his back. She rolled her eyes.

“Sure it did,” (Y/N) laughed. Fred always had the flair for the dramatic, trying to usually catch the eye of whoever was around him. “What did you need? I was trying to rest my eyes for a moment.” Fred rolled over on his side, looking at (Y/N) head on. She was still leaned up against the trunk, somehow comfortably, much to Fred’s astonishment. Her hair was flowing with the breeze, the patches of light filtering from the tree above swayed around her. It reminded Fred of the Muggle contraption called a ‘disco ball’ he had heard his father talk so much about. She was ethereal, unbelievably beautiful. Fred couldn’t believe he existed on the same planet in the same place and time she did.

“Needed some help with the Potions homework, seeing as you’re so amazing at the subject,” Fred admitted. “I tried asking Georgie, but he hadn’t done it yet either, if you can imagine that.” (Y/N) pulled her back from the trunk, a bit of her hair caught on the bark behind her, eliciting a small wince of pain as she broke free.

“You—Fred Weasley—want to complete a homework assignment a good three or so days ahead of the due date? Am I getting pranked?” (Y/N) glanced around dramatically, hand grabbing her chest. Would she find a group of people waiting for her reaction? It was hard to say. Fred groaned, flopping back to his backside, staring directly up at the swaying leaves above, the peaks of sunlight shining in his eyes.

“Hey, a guy can change his ways, can’t he?” Fred asked, glancing over. (Y/N) just stared at the redhead with her eyebrow cocked upwards, arms crossed. “Okay, maybe not that drastically. But seriously, I would really appreciate the help.” His eyes found the top of the tree again, not meeting with (Y/N)’s face. His cheeks were slightly pink. He hoped the shade would hide the color from (Y/N)’s gaze. It didn’t, but she chose to ignore it. Or, at least try to.  

“Suppose I could,” (Y/N) sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” She mumbled quietly, hoping Fred didn’t hear. He did, but decided if he wanted any help, he should fight the urge to tease her about it. Still, the words reverberated through his head, repeating back to him over and over. His heart was beating a little faster than normal, a typical reaction that he had whenever (Y/N) was around.

“Great! I owe you big time (Y/N)!” Fred said, sitting straight up. He found himself almost leaning in to hug her, but stopped before he got too close. It would be strange if he did hug her, seeing as they were friends. Just friends.

“You’re in luck. I think I packed my textbook in my bag, do you mind grabbing it for me?” (Y/N) pointed to her brown book bag, tattered on the corners from wear and handling. It was weathered in a way you’d expect, faded and wrinkled from the sun and exposure, the (Y/H) crest adorned smack in the middle of the flap. It was obvious she spent loads of time outside with the bag. Fred leaned over to grab it, looping his hand through the strap and pulling it to his lap, grunting at the surprising weight.

“What do you keep in here? Merlin’s pants! It’s so heavy!” Fred squeaked, flapping the top open. (Y/N) smiled gently at his misery.

“Just the essentials, books, parchment, quills and ink. Usual student stuff.”

“Essentials!? Usual students don’t carry this many books,” Fred mumbled, fingering through the colored covers in the bag. He had found their Potions textbook quite easily, it was thick and a musty purple. A bright blue book caught his eye, leaning up against their textbook. It was small and rather thin compared to the others. He touched it gently, running his fingertips across the worn spine. “Find it?” (Y/N) asked curiously, peeking into her bag. Fred moved the flap so (Y/N) couldn’t gaze into it.

“Oh, yeah,” He hummed. Without a second thought, he grabbed the blue book to look at the cover. “Though, this seems much more interesting.” On the cover was an illustration, Fred assumed it was a child and what looked to be a bear. His eyes scanned the title. “Winnie-the-Pooh?” (Y/N)’s eyes widened, her cheeks growing rosy.

“Give me that!” She leaned forward, trying to snatch the book from Fred’s grasp. He was quick to lean back and away from her grabbing hands. (Y/N) moved to her knees, waddling over to Fred, who raised the book high over his head.

“Not until you tell me what this is!” Fred said, holding the book higher. He silently thanked his parents for blessing him with such a towering height, it had finally had become useful. (Y/N) sighed, admitting defeat.

“It’s a children’s book, a Muggle one,” (Y/N) said, pushing stray hairs behind her ear. “My favorite actually.” She looked embarrassed, as if she had even the slightest reason to be.

“What are you doing with a Muggle book?” Fred asked, almost stupidly. (Y/N) cocked another eyebrow at him as she sat back down against the trunk.

“My mum’s a Muggle, remember?” Suddenly, the fact dawned on Fred, slapping him flat on the face. Of course he remembered. (Y/N) was a half-blood, her father was a wizard who had married a Muggle. (Y/N) was raised mostly in the Muggle world, not really experiencing what the Wizarding World had to offer, seeing as her father chose a life most wizards scoffed at, blending into the Muggle world.

“Oh, right. Forgot.” Fred said hesitantly. He flipped open the front cover to find a hand-written note in the top left corner, drawn in a cramped, looping font.

To my dearest (Y/N),

May Hogwarts fill your life, heart and mind with the many adventures I could never give you.

I’ll miss you my little Honey Pot.

Love,

Mum  

Fred glanced up at (Y/N), her face shined a bright pink hue. Fred couldn’t pull his eyes away from her glowing cheeks, the way her eyes were shifted down at the patch of dirt beneath her hand. His breath hitched, caught in his throat. Merlin was he taken by this girl.

“My mum,” (Y/N) took a deep breath, her cheeks still flamed. “She would read me a story from that book almost every night. The characters felt so—so real, like they were there, beside me. Reading that book now,” (Y/N)’s eyes met Fred’s. “Calms me down, reminds me of home. Makes me feel a little less alone,” Fred didn’t speak. (Y/N)’s face flared brighter, flustered by the silence. “Forget I said anything, let’s—Potions homework. Right.” She reached for her book bag, only to be met with Fred’s hand.

“Read it to me.” He held her hand tightly, afraid to let go. Her palm was slightly calloused. From what? He wondered. Perhaps her broomstick, she had a nasty habit of falling off.  “What?” (Y/N)’s voice snagged. Fred’s eyes were full of intensity, something (Y/N) had only ever witnessed when he was fully invested in his latest and greatest prank. Hardly did she see him look this serious.  

“I—I mean, only if you want to! I’m really interested in what stories Muggle parents tell their kids,” Fred said, stammering. He pulled his hand away. “All we wizard kids have are The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and those stories make little to no sense! Runes, who can read those anyway? Besides, this sounds important to you. I want to hear all about it,” Fred tried to explain himself, paint himself in a curious light perhaps. He could admit he was slightly interested in the book, but he was more interested in hearing (Y/N)’s sweet voice.

“It’s hardly that interesting,” (Y/N) gently grabbed the book from Fred’s grasp, flipping through the worn and slightly yellowed pages. “It’s about a stuffed bear and his friends—”

“Named Pooh?” “Yeah, a toy bear named Pooh—don’t laugh, it’s not the same as what you’re thinking of—they live in a forest you see. They’re usually visited by their good friend Christopher Robin—”

“Christopher Robin?” Fred scoffed. “What kind of name is that?”

“Would you let me finish?” (Y/N) spat, clearly irritated. Fred shut up. “It’s just a collection of stories that the group of friends experience together. Teaching kids the importance of love and friendship and all those good things.”

“So, no deaths?” Fred questioned. (Y/N) looked up from her book, only to notice that Fred was being completely serious, his face hardened in anticipation.

“No. No deaths, it’s a children’s book Fred,” (Y/N) giggled. “Why? Do wizarding stories usually include death?” Fred wiggled up against the tree trunk, closer to (Y/N), looping his hands behind his head, supporting his neck.

“Nah, more like hexes, jinxes and curses really. Lets kids know if you’re a terrible person, the world will punish you for it.” Fred took this chance to lean up next to (Y/N), he was close enough to smell her perfume. Minty and floral, with a hint of honey? Whatever it was, it was entirely delightful. He wanted to breathe it in all day if he could.

“Sounds… dark. Interesting! Terribly dark, but interesting. You’ll have to share a few of those stories with me sometime,” (Y/N) giggled again. “But if you insist on hearing me read—”

“Yes please!” Fred slumped down the trunk, head landing on (Y/N)’s lap. “Read away!” His pointed hand flew to the sky. The movement was sudden, sure, but nothing out of the ordinary.

“Comfy are you?” (Y/N) teased. Fred wiggled, adjusting his head slightly. The grass was tickling his arms, but he decided to fight the urge to move. He was enjoying his position far too greatly.

“Am now. Go on, do your thing.” His eyes were closed, though he knew that (Y/N) was grinning all the while.

“Will do.” (Y/N) cracked open the book and began to read. Her voice was laced with slight excitement, masked by a soft tone. She hadn’t read these stories aloud in a long while. As much as she despised how embarrassed she felt before, the position she currently was in made it feel all worthwhile. Was the excitement truly from the book? Or did it stem from the redhead softly settled on her lap?

“Oh! Honey pot! I get it now! Because the bear—the honey!” Fred interrupted, remembering the note (Y/N)’s mum had written in the cover. “It’s a lovely nickname.”

“Shove it Weasley.” (Y/N) feigned annoyance, though, she did rather enjoy hearing him speak of her childhood nickname.  “Honey pot, because you’re so sweet,” Fred yawned. He had grown rather drowsy from the story, (Y/N)’s voice had lulled him into a quiet state. “Sweet nickname for a sweet girl.”

(Y/N) chose to not dwell on Fred’s tired words, instead, she gently brushed her fingers through his hair, continuing to read with the vigor and passion her mother once did. Fred smiled gently, leaning his head into her touch, holding onto every word (Y/N) uttered. The Potions homework was all but forgotten. One day, he’d buck up the courage to tell (Y/N) how he really felt, but for now? It truly was a perfect day.  

[gellavonhamster]

on coffee, nightmares, and reasons to live

gen || Hector | Captain Widdershins || post-canon

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian

Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly for the ones that I did not.

– Donna Tartt, The Secret History

I saw an old soldier abandon his watch, 

I saw an old sailor abandon his ship –

“To hell with your war,

What on earth is it for?”

That’s what the old soldier and old sailor said.

They looked each other in the eye,

Coming back from death, they cried:

“To hell with your war,

What on earth is it for?”

That’s what the old soldier and old sailor said.

– Olga Arefyeva & Kovcheg, На хрена нам война (Why the Hell Do We Need War?)

“I admire them,” Hector confessed, pointing at the birds with a motion of his head. A murder of crows flew over their heads with agitated croaking as he and Jacques Snicket were sitting on the grass behind Hector’s old house in the Village of Fowl Devotees. Hector was thirteen, which meant that Jacques was, consequently, a little older, and he couldn’t help wondering: did he really live here already when he was this age? Something wasn’t adding up here but it didn’t matter, because a gentle summer wind was blowing and the sunset skies were the colour of ripe persimmon and he didn’t want to ruin this moment of peace, so rare for the volunteers who have dedicated their lives to maintaining it. 

“Yes, they’re amazing creatures. Wise,” Jacques agreed. The wind licked his hair, ruffling it in a funny manner. “You know, they say when crows find one of their kind dead, they give it a sort of a funeral. Fly in circles over it, and mourn.”  

“I’ve heard something about this,” Hector ran the tips of his fingers over the grass, “but it’s not just crows I’m talking about. I mean any birds. I spend my days tinkering with these air balloons and baskets and burners while they can just… up and fly. Can you imagine it? I’d give a lot to have such freedom.”

“I see,” Jacques replied. He turned to Hector and looked at him closely. It was as if the crows started cawing louder, but it might have just seemed so.

Hector felt a fit of unease.

“Why didn’t you stand up for me when I was arrested?” asked Jacques. Suddenly he was forty-seven, which meant that Hector was, consequently, forty-five. “You did recognize me. You have known me since our very childhood. Why did you let them burn me?”

“They didn’t burn you,” Hector objected nervously, backing away. “They didn’t burn you!” he repeated louder, smelling smoke. The jacket the eldest Snicket was wearing – more precisely, its left sleeve – was burning, but its owner didn’t seem to notice.  

“Right, they didn’t manage to. Olaf and Esme murdered me. That changes everything, doesn’t it?”

His skin was turning black and coming off and Hector watched, watched, watched frozen in horror and shame and couldn’t avert his gaze.  

“Why did you let them sentence me? Why did you let them kill me? Why did you let them put the Baudelaires in prison? Why did you let them burn the Baudelaires at the stake?”

“But the Baudelaires weren’t burned!” Hector wanted to cry, but the words stuck in his throat. That was how he woke up – hoarse and suffocating and trying to cough out his answer to the corpse. The answer that was nothing but a senseless excuse because the Baudelaires might not have been burned, but Hector really did let the villagers of VFD put them in prison and sentence them to death. Because he might have been there in time in his self-sustained mobile home and would have taken them with him if he hadn’t been thwarted, but he really did not say a word when he had an opportunity. That was what mattered.  

There was a cup of water on the nightstand. Sitting up on the bed, Hector grabbed the cup, made a couple gulps, coughed again, and, having put the cup back, took his head in his hands. The dawn was breaking; somewhere far off, a dog was barking. The clock read a quarter after five.  

It wasn’t the first time he dreamed of Jacques. In fact, if Hector saw any nightmares, Jacques was a regular there. Sometimes he was simply there to remind him that his death is, in a way, Hectors’s fault; sometimes, like tonight, he dragged in the Baudelaires; sometimes he just remained speechless while the flames devoured him. Waking up each time, Hector remembered that creature – phenomenon? – that attacked them back then, after the mobile home collided with the Queequeg, and prayed for it to be what he sees in his dreams next time. But it never visited his nightmares because there was no fear in them, only the endless feeling of guilt and shame, and the stale crusts of the unsaid words he kept on trying to cough out even after waking up.    

He spent some ten minutes sitting in bed and struggling to calm down. Hector knew that he wouldn’t manage to fall asleep anymore – after the nightmares, he never could – so he decided to go down to the kitchen for an early breakfast. Later he could chop up the filling for tacos, or whip the tomato sprouts into shape. Keep his hands busy to distract himself, at least remotely. He got dressed in the twilight and left his bedroom, softly closing the door after himself.

The bedroom opposite to his was Quigley’s. Its door was ajar, which meant that all three Quagmires slept there that night. Isadora and Duncan had their own bedrooms (hers was to the left from Quigley’s, and his was opposite to his sister’s room) but every night the triplets invariably went to sleep in one of the three rooms all together. No one discussed that, and no one frowned upon that. Perhaps in some other, normal home adults would have disapproved of teenagers of different gender, albeit relatives, sleeping in the same bed, but their house could be called normal with great reserve only, even though lately, after the Quagmires with the help of Fernald and Fiona had stolen their inheritance from the bank, after some minor repairs, throwing out the rotten carpets, and fitting the broken window in the corridor with glass, it could well, in Hector’s humble opinion, be called decent.  

He peeped into the room. The brothers huddled together on a narrow bed, having yielded their sister a hammock that hung over it. Quigley, of course, slept the closest to the door. Such was the rule: the owner of the room took the place that was the nearest to the entrance and left the door half open, to hear any suspicious sound and wake the others up in time. This time too, even though Hector did his best not to make a sound, Quigley’s eyes flew open.  

“Sleep,” Hector whispered and smiled: all clear, false alarm, no strangers in the house, just their own people. The boy gave him a faint smile and drifted off again. A half-read book rested on his stomach – something about the Terra Nova expedition. Still smiling, Hector came down to the first floor – home to the kitchen, the dining room, and a box of a room which once had possibly belonged to the help but presently to Captain Widdershins, who claimed that this place, a step away from being a broom closet, reminded him of submarine cabins (in truth, he slept there first and foremost because he had a hard time climbing the stairs, but he didn’t like to discuss that). Fiona and Fernald slept in the attic, using folding screens to divide it into two rooms, but now the attic was empty: both were to return only today.      

Hector entered the kitchen and gave a start – Widdershins was seated at the table, sipping something from a cup. On seeing Hector come in, or rather hearing him in the first place, the retired captain got embarrassed and promptly took something off the table. Hector frowned.  

“Good morning,” he said warily.

“Morning!” Widdershins responded, eyeing him just as warily.

“You up at such an unearthly hour?”

“Aye! Insomnia! And some damned dog keeps barking. Decided to have a coffee.”

“Doesn’t smell like coffee for some reason.”

“Still heating the water,” Widdershins explained with uncertainty. None of the stove burners was ignited.

Hector went round the table. The side that Widdershins was seated at had a cutlery drawer. The tablecloth over it stuck out expressively. Hector lifted the tablecloth a little – Widdershins didn’t say a word – and took out a broached bottle of whiskey.  

“Where did you take it?” asked Hector, putting the bottle into the cupboard. “I don’t remember you leaving the house lately.”

“I may be disabled but I’m not a cot case, after all!” Widdershins replied with dignity. “Went out while you were at the market. Bought with my own money! Fixed the neighbours’ meat grinder. They paid me. Aye! Fair and square!”

“You sort of promised not to drink anymore. What’s fair about that?”

“Ha! Promised! I haven’t promised you anything, Hector! Why do you care?”

“As for me, feel free to drink yourself to death,” Hector shrugged his shoulders. He did care, and he didn’t want Widdershins to actually drink himself to death, but the fact remained that he wasn’t happy and had no intention to hide it. “It is your children that you promised it to. Perhaps I should just let your stepson smash this bottle on your head when he comes back.”

Widdershins threw back his head, finished his drink that definitely wasn’t coffee, and slammed his cup on the table.  

“Perhaps you should,” he replied, defiant.  

Hector filled the teapot with water and put it on the stove to boil. Some actual coffee really wouldn’t hurt.

“You’re not the only one struggling, you know,” he said, not turning around. “Just some food for thought.”

He reached out for the coffee grinder.

“Give me!” Widdershins ordered ashamedly. “I’ll do it!”

He proceeded to grind coffee as ferociously as if each bean was his personal enemy, while Hector quietly put the cup that smelled of whiskey into the sink and replaced it with two clean ones. They spent some time silent, the coffee grinder creaking with age and exertion. The dog outside calmed down, but now they could hear a train passing somewhere far off.  

“I’m not at my place here!” Widdershins finally blurted out. It was not as if he was talking to Hector – more like to the coffee grinder. “I’m used to the sea! To the submarine! Always on my way! And now I’m trapped on shore! With my leg missing and my back aching! Weak and sickly! And even if I get stronger, even if I unlearn to view myself as inferior,” he slapped his leg that turned into a wooden peg right under his knee, “I still won’t be able to return to the sea! Because that beast is there! Because now my guts fill up with cold when I think of the sea I love so much! Why couldn’t it kill me straight away? What’s the use of me now?” 

“Your stepdaughter needs you. So does your stepson, even,” Hector pointed out. 

“I failed them!”

“They’ve forgiven you.”

That last point Hector was not completely sure about, but both Fiona – especially Fiona – and Fernald mostly dealt by their stepfather as if everything has always been fine between them. Some scandals occurred, like the evening the captain finally decided to tell his stepchildren what was in the sugar bowl, but for the most part, there was peace, though with no particular affection.  

Widdershins shook his head.

“I’m not worthy of them!”

“Well, then make yourself worthy,” Hector retorted, took the coffee grinder from him, and spooned the coffee into the cups. “If there’s any reason for you to have survived, then that is it. Hitting the bottle is not.”

With the way Widdershins often acted, it was impossible not to be rude to him. Hector really enjoyed being rude. There were times when he used to think he had completely forgotten how it was done.

“I see this creature in my dreams nearly every night,” Widdershins murmured after Hector poured boiling water into the cups and took a bowl of crackers out of the cupboard.  

“I don’t,” Hector said calmly, and shivered under the understanding gaze of his old comrade. He couldn’t recall telling anyone about his nightmares but it was quite possible that they were easy to figure out. Quite possible that there was a sign saying coward hanging perpetually above his head, only he didn’t notice it himself.    

Widdershins sighed.

“If all of us stayed alive, then it really was for a reason,” he said solemnly. “If I am needed, then you are needed all the more! Aye! Because you take care of the triplets! And of the household! And you cook us food! And you could build a new aircraft! And we could help our children,” that wasn’t the first time either of them called the Quagmires, Fernald, and Fiona their children, although the Quagmires weren’t Hector’s children, and Fernald and Fiona technically weren’t Widdershins’ children, “stop the VFD! So that it would become what it should have been, or cease to exist at all! Aye! For Jacques! And Monty! And Josephine! And Kit! And our old chap Lemony, be he alive or dead! How’s that for a reason to live?”    

Hector felt a lump growing in his throat.

“What a speech. You’re drunk at the crack of dawn, Widdershins.”

“But I’m right, face it!”

“Yes,” Hector admitted. It was very important for that to be true. Such truth one could live with. “You’re right.”

Then they had coffee with crackers, and for a little while, the world was actually quiet.

[karmicmayhem]

Saturn’s light

Summary: The others decide to check in on Logan after a tough day. What they find is not what they expected.

Word count:2626

Read on ao3 

Virgil bit his lip and shifted the blanket in his grip once more, letting the soft texture soothe him slightly, before giving up and turning to Patton. The other side was folding a load of clothes methodically. Virgil was almost positive he did it just because it relaxed him. Today had been stressful for all of them. More so for Logan than anyone else. He had retired to his room hours ago and hadn’t been heard from since.

That wasn’t particularly unusual for him, though. Logan had been known to stay in his room for days at a time, working on projects or experiments or writing all of Thomas’s schedules for the week. He had is own coffee pot in there, so he seemed to possess no other reason to leave his room. Today, though, had seemed to be especially tiring for him.

“Patton.” Virgil said, waving his hand slightly to get Patton’s attention. He watched Patton startle slightly, having been caught up in his own thoughts. He had asked Virgil to help him fold clothes, but it seemed that he mostly just wanted his company.

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Have you seen Roman?”

Patton cocked his head to the side, mildly confused about the question. “I think I saw him in the kitchen last. Why do you ask, kiddo?”

Virgil shrugged. “Dunno. I just thought someone should go check on Logan or something. And we’re busy folding clothes here, so I thought we could send him or whatever.”

Roman chose that moment to walk in. “As much as I love you signing me up for things, maybe just ask me directly next time, Virge.” He strolled over and flopped down on the couch next to Patton.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “That was the next step, Royal pain in the-”

“Okay!” Patton cut in. “How about we all go check on Logan?” he clapped his hands together and looked at them both with excitement.

“Well I’m certainly not going alone. Logan doesn’t seem to like it when I go in his room.” Roman replied with his hands on his hips.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “That’s because you burst in last time without permission to yell about an idea you had at three in the morning.”

“It was a good idea!” The creative side pouted.

“Three in the morning.” Virgil reiterated. “You’re lucky you got away with just a book thrown at your head, Princey.”

“Alright kiddos, let’s stop bickering and go check on Teach. I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies earlier, so let’s bring him some. He won’t admit it, but I know he loves them.” He grinned and waved his hand. A picnic basket appeared in his grasp, presumably storing the aforementioned cookies.

They made their way to Logan’s room, the logical side’s dwelling slightly separated from the rest of their rooms. Patton knocked on the door. “Logan?” he called.

They waited for a few moments with no reply. Virgil’s brow furrowed. This time he reached forward and knocked on the door, a bit harder than Patton had. Still no response.

“We should check on him.” Virgil finally said. “It’s weird for him not to have answered by now.”

They opened the door, thankfully unlocked, and entered.

“Uh.”

“Whoa…”

Logan’s room was the same, minus the wall at the far end of the room, which now appeared to be missing. In its place was a large expanse of grass, leading into a field stretching far into the distance. A light breeze wafted in gently, bringing the smell of rain and plant life in.

They exchanged surprised glances before stepping forward. “Princey, did your room connect to his or something?” Virgil asked.

Roman shook his head. “No, and believe me, I would know if it did. Besides, this place is severely lacking in the fantasy department. Not a single fairy in sight, even.” He glanced around in confusion.

“Well I don’t know about that.” Patton giggled. “After all, these little guys sure do seem a little fairy-like.”

They turned to look at him, and sure enough there was a little firefly resting gently on his finger, emitting a softly flashing light. Virgil blinked in surprise. “What…?” he began, as thoughts began to fill his mind the longer he looked at it.

No, not thoughts.

Facts.

Fireflies, also called lightning bugs. Lampyridae being the correct scientific term for them. Bioluminescent creatures that flash their lights to attract a possible mate.

The insect flew away and the information stopped. Virgil glanced at the other two who appeared to have undergone the same thing. “Well,” he finally said, “this is certainly Logan’s room.”

They nodded slowly in agreement. The soft glow of the fireflies left trails of glowing light around them, helping them see more clearly in the dark around them. Virgil quirked a wry grin at one that landed on his nose. He pretended not to hear Patton softly cooing at him to his left as he crossed his eyes to get a better look at it.

“I think we’re losing track of why we’re here, my companions.” Roman said. “We still haven’t found Specs.”

That was true. They had forgotten their original task the farther they had walked into the field. “Well, where could he be?” asked Patton.

“I have an idea.” Virgil spoke up dryly from the side.

Roman looked over from where he had been examining a red flower blooming from the base of a tree. “Well don’t just leave us hanging, dark and stormy. Tell us!”

Virgil jabbed his thumb to the side of them at an incredibly tall and steep hill. “Pretty sure that’s where our nerd went. It looks like it’s the central point of this place.”

They looked at the grassy hill and agreed. It really did seem to be the most likely location. Without further prompting, the three began to silently climb it. Sure enough, there was Logan, laying back on the top of the hill on the other side, his eyes closed with the cool wind softly blowing through his hair. Small white flowers dotted the area around him.

“Do you think he’s asleep?” Patton finally asked.

“How could I be with all the noise you three make?” Logan spoke dryly from where he was laying, finally opening his eyes to look up at them.

“Oh, sorry!” Patton replied. “We just wanted to check on you. Oh!” he handed the basket to Logan who took it gently, sitting up finally. “And to give you these! I made chocolate chip cookies, and they’re still warm.”

“It’s alright. And thank you, Patton. I appreciate it.” he offered up a small grateful smile.

“Logan, what is this place?” Virgil finally asked as they joined him in sitting.

Logan sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Well…” He looked up and the others followed his gaze, then gasped.

The night sky was alight with stars. They were closer than could be seen on earth, and some had faint white lines connecting them to others, showing constellations. The stars almost completely filled up the sky, but…

But that wasn’t the main focus.

There, in the center of the sky was a planet.

Saturn. A gas giant. The sixth planet from the sun and the second largest in our solar system. Possesses seven rings that surround the planet. The rings are made mostly out of ice and dust particles.

It was so big in the sky. It was utterly breathtaking in its magnitude and vibrancy.

“It’s…” Virgil starts, then stops. Unable to think of phrasing fitting enough to describe the sight.

“It’s beautiful.” Roman breathed out in awe, his normal royal persona completely forgotten at the sight. He turned his wide eyes to the logical side, his wonder not fading. “You made this place, Logan?”

Logan shifted slightly at the praise. “Well, I suppose I did. Technically, at least.” he adjusted his glasses and continued. “I can view any of the planets I please this way. I merely wished to see Saturn tonight. Of course, that is only possible here. If Saturn was this close in the real world, it would be far more terrifying than beautiful, as the Roche limit would begin to take effect and-”

“Hurry up the explanation, nerd, we don’t have all day.” Roman cut in impatiently.

Logan glared at him and Roman yelped in surprise. “Ow! What..?” he held up a bleeding finger. He looked down and noticed the flower directly under his hand had grown thorns.

“Well, can’t say you didn’t have that coming, Ro.” Virgil said bluntly with a hint of amusement coloring his tone.

Roman frowned but didn’t disagree.

“Roman, be nice. We are intruding in his room, after all.” Patton admonished.

“Alright, alright. Sorry Lo.” Roman eventually muttered, pouting slightly as he nursed his bleeding finger.

Logan only rolled his eyes “It’s alright, Roman.”

“So…” Virgil cut in again, before they could get off track again. “What is this place, Lo? Has it always been here?”

Logan tilted his head as he considered how to properly word his response. “I would say that this place has existed about as long as I have. It has grown and changed over time, and I believe it will continue to do so. As Thomas, and therefore we grow and change.”

“Aww, that’s beautiful!” Patton squealed at the notion.

“This place isn’t exactly something I’d expect from you, though. This seems more up Princey’s alley than anything.” Virgil comments, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion.

Logan lets out a small laugh. “Does it? Tell me, have you noticed anything in here so far that hasn’t been something that actually exists?” He waits for them to shake their heads before he continues. “My domain is that of fact, and not that of fiction. There are more wondrous things on this earth than are first realized.” he thinks about something silently for a few moments before looking over at them once more. “I suppose there is something I should mention about this place, though.”

He sighed as he examined the blade of grass between his fingers. “Cold facts are not my entirety. And I am not solely logic. That is to say, I have not always encompassed logic as my main function, nor is it my only one now.”

Patton tilted his head in interest, and spoke what they were all wondering. “What else is there then, Lolo?”

Logan felt a small smile take over his face as he prepared to tell them what he had never felt the need to share with anyone else before. “You see, before logic was needed, was demanded, I was something else. I was the wonder of learning new things. Of why the birds chirped in the morning, why the sky was blue and how the stars managed to be so bright from so far away.” he dropped the blade of grass and looked at them directly. His voice was that of someone who was far away and yet still directly in front of them. And they realized at that moment that Logan had never looked more real to them, and at the same time had never looked so ethereal.

“I was Curiosity. Before I was anything else, I was that. And this place is sort of a reflection of that.” He slowly extended a hand and a lone firefly landed softly on his finger and blinked its lights on and off in an almost cheery way. It was as though it was saying hello, before gracefully taking its leave and flying away.

“I believe you have all experienced it once or twice since coming here. This place holds all of the knowledge that’s been accumulated over the years. But to learn anything from what’s here, you have to want to know.” He grabbed a cookie from the basket and took a small bite before continuing. “As soon as there’s a desire for knowledge, this place will do its best to give you the answers. There is no selfishness here, no clouding emotions, no judgement, and no dishonesty. The seeking of knowledge will always be welcome here, and the information freely given.”

Logan’s face was flushed slightly. Admitting all that he did at once could be risky-

“That’s wonderful.”

His head snapped up to meet Patton’s teary eyed ones. Virgil and Roman weren’t faring much better.

“Logan, this place…” Patton seemed to be grasping for the right words. “This place reflects you so well, and I.. I think we’ve been taking you for granted.”

Logan blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Virgil was the one to speak up this time. “He means… when you go off on tangents about stuff, or you start talking about space or something for a while, that’s how you show affection isn’t it? It’s like this place. You give information because it’s your lifeblood, and sharing it is how you say you care, right?” he caught Logan’s gaze and held it. “So when one of us cuts you off…”

“Well…” Logan started with a sigh. “I won’t say you aren’t correct, however… I do understand. I do tend to talk too much sometimes. And I know that can become annoying.”

“Specs.”

Their attention was drawn to Roman who had been quietly thinking for a while.

“I apologize.” he continued, ignoring their matching faces of surprise, “I can be too harsh to you. I tend to forget that you aren’t actually a robot, and I treat you as though you can’t be affected by my insults. And that is extremely un-princely of me. I can only strive to treat you with the respect you deserve, and to do better in the future.” He offered an honest smile and held his hand out with his pinky out.

Logan smiled in amusement and extended his hand and clasped Roman’s pinky with his own. “This is incredibly childish.” he claimed, making no move to let go. “But I must apologize as well. I know I have the tendency to treat you unkindly too. I… will endeavor to improve on that front as well.”

“This is so pure.” Patton whispered from the side, a wide smile stretched on his face as they dropped their fingers. “C’mon guys. We should give Lo his privacy back.”

Logan raised his hand to stop Patton from getting up. “Um, actually.” he paused. “Would you all like to stay a bit longer? You obviously don’t have to, but-”

“We’d love to, dork.” Virgil cut in with a fond smirk on his face.

Patton reached forward and wrapped his arms around Logan gently but firmly. “I’m so happy I get to stay here with you longer, Lo.” he let go and smiled at the logical side.

“You simply must tell me more about those delightful red flowers I saw on the way in. I want to incorporate them into an adventure idea I’ve been working on for my realm.”

Logan smiled shyly under all the positive attention he was receiving. Maybe today really did go better than he first thought. He watched serenely as Virgil began fashioning a flower crown for Patton, as Patton squealed in delight and as Roman had to save the basket from being knocked over from Patton’s excited flailing.

He laughed at their antics and pretended not to see their looks of surprise and joy at the sound. And he pretended he didn’t see their fond smiles later when they asked him about Saturn and the constellations that littered the sky. He was more than happy to share his knowledge, and he could tell they were honestly curious.  

They spent the night that way, cozy under the stars and the fireflies, and the light of Saturn.

Surrounded by, and encompassed in, the warmth of their love.

——————————-

Taglist: @princelogical

[astainedteamug]

Getting Rid of that Holiday Stress Ahead of Time

If you are finding yourself worried about the holidays, then you and I are in the same boat. And so is everybody else. Legitimately, everybody. Even the lady at work who always has a perfect party and she never has a hair out of place, she’s worried if her quiche will burn or if she will have enough decorations. Everybody has some kind of stress going on right now.

Some people are triple checking their travel plans to make sure everybody has a ticket and if they have a big enough budget. Some people are checking their list of people to give a gift to and realizing that they STILL don’t know what to get their mom for Christmas.

But whatever it is you are going through right now, you should take a minute off of your feet to read through this and see if one of these could help you.

1. The Clutter

It is amazingly easy to hold on to things in the modern world. And you don’t even know why. Especially after Halloween, there are candy wrappers, fairy wings, tiny toys, and just all around mess. The birthdays of the year have left you with gifts that you never wanted and you couldn’t return, so they wound up shoved in a corner to never be used or seen again.

But for some reason, you find yourself stressed out about it. That thing Jim gave you at your office party that was so ugly you didn’t even want it in your car. It’s bothering you that it’s still here, yet it has to take the back burner. And pretty soon, you start to feel like your house looks something like this:

Yeah, I know!

But between work and school and getting everything ready, you just don’t feel like you have the time to go through all of it.

Behold, my friends, the beauty of November. This is a beautiful grace period that most people will skip over to start putting up decorations for Christmas, thinking it will help them not be stressed about the decorations. But they are wasting perfectly good cleaning time. It’s time for a detox, and your house is begging you to do it, just this once.

Now wait just a minute, this isn’t an excuse to throw out your wife’s figurines that you hate but she loves, in fact I don’t recommend throwing much away at all. Go through your things first and donate what you can.

Old clothing, shoes, toys, books, purses or bags, and even movies. This is a great time of year to donate those things and let somebody else enjoy them. Old dishes can be sold or donated, dog and cat toys can get washed and de-stinkified. Candles that have been sitting around for years can get burned and help get any unpleasant smells out of your house while freeing up cabinet space for candles to come. Old mail and documents can get shredded and recycled, or even stocked up as fire starters for your fireplace. And those decorations that “complete the room” can be stowed away until they are needed again. Don’t let them jumble you up and stand in the way.

And this is an excellent way to see what you need around the house. Maybe you didn’t know the drill was broken, but now you know what to get your husband for Christmas. Or maybe the kids need new pjs. And that new coat would look great in place of your old one.

And once you’re done with the clutter aspect of all of this, then it’s time to move into phase two.

2. The Mess

It is entirely possible that the corner of your living room behind your television hasn’t been dusted in months, correct? It’s an easy thing to forget. It’s an easy thing to push aside, or to say to yourself “would anybody really notice?” Aunt Barbara might when she visits on thanksgiving with her specialty cranberry stuffing. And you would never hear the end of it. Okay, now punch your anxiety in the face and pick up a duster.

It really isn’t that big of a deal which corner is dusted and which one isn’t, but November is a wonderful time of peace before the holiday guests arrive, so why not make sure the house is nice so you aren’t worried about it. They’ll make a mess when they get there anyways, you may as well conquer what you can now. Get those expired bath products and cleaning concoctions out of your house before area 51 gets involved. Soap is NOT good forever!

Move around your furniture to sweep under it, dig out all of those coins and wrappers in the couch, dust off your movie and CD collection so you can pick out the holiday films for when everyone is over. You may as well put one on while you vacuum your floors, those corners and your ceiling fans and vents. Heck, you can even wash your carpets if your feeling REALLY festive!

There really isn’t any point to making the holidays harder on yourself than they already can be, so why not get a head start on all of that mess and just get rid of it? It can be a good excuse to have your kids wash the windows or clean their bathrooms, or even go through their clothes and toys and put everything they don’t use into one bag to donate. And with your mess all taken care of, you can take a breath and relax before you begin part three of this holiday mission.

3. The Food

This is the biggest time of year for food sales for home baking. Which also means the fire department is busy too. Please be careful whenever you are in the kitchen with loved ones and keep the heat down, your sockets dust free, and make sure all handles are out of reach of little ones. And remember, a falling knife has no handle.

All of those vegetables that are going into your casseroles and soups, or getting turned into a side, you know you can use your freezer, right? Chopping them up now and freezing them in the measurements that you need is an excellent time and mess saver for your holiday baking. Those fruits that you bought too early, go ahead and chop those up too and freeze them until the day you need them for your pies and fruit salads. And honestly, why did you buy SO MANY cranberries? Nobody eats them! Stop doing this to your wallet and to yourself.

Over spending on food and wasting it is another stupidly easy thing to do. Half of it rots away before it even sees the cutting board. You can stop yourself from doing this with a few easy tools, like shopping lists, dates, and coordination with the other cooks in your family.

Everybody should bring a dish to thanksgiving. Whether it’s a pie, some creamed corn, or even something to drink. You won’t be the only cook during the week leading up to thanksgiving. So coordinating with your relatives about who is bringing what will save everybody from making the same thing and will make sure nobody is confused about what they’re doing and keeps you from making too much of one thing if not everybody is able to come. Especially if Kenny is the only person who is vegan and gluten intolerant, then his special dish doesn’t need to be fussed over this year. And everyone can bring something, even if uncle Dave just brings the disposable cups so grandma doesn’t have to do a million dishes with the grandkids later. And yes, everybody needs to do their share of work after dinner. A good rule of thumb is to clean up dishes before dessert.

But before the baking even begins, you need to figure out what ingredients you will need to buy to make that food. And some ingredients can be nearly impossible to get your hands on. You would not believe how difficult it was for me to find rhubarb for my pie this year. I had to google where I could get it, and it took me a few hours to get ahold of it. So making that shopping list can save you lots of time and hassle when it gets down to the wire. And having the dates of parties and holidays next to you makes it easy to know when you’ll need to shop for that food and save space in your fridge.

Ah yes, the fridge. Your old pal, full of old take out containers, a few odds and ends when it comes to ingredients, expired dairy products, and an endless assortment of condiments. Why do we do this? The fridge looks full, yet there’s nothing to eat.

Clean it! That smell can be taken care of with a box of baking soda. Just leave it open in he back corner and it will absorb it for you. Take your trash can and have it ready for the avalanche of forgotten meals it will need to hold. The old products and empty cartons need to get thrown out now so you can have space for leftovers during the holidays, but you’re much less likely to forget about those. Once you’ve emptied out all of the rotten veggies and old yogurts, now is the time to wash the shelves and clean it up in there to get a head start on the dishes.

Bravo. You have earned another break. But you are so far from being done.

4. The Yard

This is an ongoing task, and I’m afraid not much can be done that will stay done. Especially if you live somewhere the leaves turn red and then fall every time the wind blows. Honestly, it can’t really all be done at once. But after it snows, it has to stay there. That stick could trip you if your boot snags it and you forgot it was there. Those leaves will kill your lawn if they stand as a frozen barrier between the grass and the snow. And the weeds will only populate while they can.

Head to a hardware store and grab some tools if you need them. And get some gloves too, those thorns can be vicious. Taking care of lawn maintenance before you decorate should be high on your list of to-do’s, yet many people skip it all together. Clean out your gutters and send your hubby on the roof with a broom before you send him up with lights and a fake santa. It’s safer and it can actually save your roof from too much damage all at once.

Mow the grass while you can, trim your bushes before they get lined with lights, and rake those leaves up before they have to stay put for the next four months.

And if you have a dog, this is your last chance to double check nothing was left behind when your kids last took them outside.

5. The Car

If you’re traveling with your family, you have to clean out your car now! The tissues, old receipts that need to be organized, wrappers, straws, socks, and crumbs all need to go.

Suitcases and crock pots will soon take their place as well as bored kiddos and grumpy adults just trying to drive through the traffic. Pack those CDs into the car, download some podcasts, or get some audio books to help pass the time. But make sure the smell is gone too. Get a new air freshener and some febreeze. It’s amazing how much smell can come from one toddlers sock.

6. Finances and Documents

That giant pile of papers in your room, on your desk, or in your coffee table? Yeah, it won’t take care of itself. And during the holidays. The last thing you want to worry about is knocking it over so it isn’t 'organized’ anymore. Go through it now.

This will give you the chance to get your finances in order before you spend three hundred dollars on lights for the tree when really you can only spend thirty. I found a paper I wrote in fifth grade the other day, and tossed it right out. Honestly, why do we cling to these things? It has been in my life for ten years, and it has served its purpose. Now it’s time to go. This frees up space not only in your desk, but in your mind as well. It was one of those little things that you had been worried about for far too long. And now it’s finally gone.

7. The Decorations

Now is the time, folks, to get your final affairs in order. We are now approaching the holidays so please prepare for landing.

Decorations are the easiest thing in the world to freak out over when you get down to the wire. You count the lights, you measure for garland, you buy the plates and the napkins and even special straws that are made of paper. Candy canes are beautiful on a tree, but the tree isn’t up yet. Not to worry though. Your shopping list is that much smaller because you already took care of it.

Buying what you can ahead of time is something I’ve been doing since April. Buying candles, drinks, and even some gifts before they’re at their holiday prices is something I do to avoid the crowds and the chaos. Yes, I’m on a budget and I know how to work the system to my favor. Buying discount wrapping paper and tinsel the year before is nothing to hide, and props to you if you make your own decorations.

That’s what I did. Wreaths can be up to $70 when they come pre decorated. I bought one for ten and put my own decorations and lights on it for less than forty dollars. And I’ll use it over and over again. Making decorations can also help tame that beast inside of you that is screaming at you to put up the lights now! It’s not even thanksgiving, calm down you little elf.

Once you’ve ticked all of these things off of your list, you’ll find it much easier to breathe while you wrap gifts or wade through the sea of people at the mall. Having your lists organized, your budget in mind, and the peace of mind that your house is organized and ready, you’ll be unstoppable this holiday season!

Happy holidays everybody!

[mtmason80-blog]

Mythical Book #1

Hi, I’m new to the writing world. Just finished my first book called “Mythical.” I have 6 books planned, with the 7th being a prequel. I have attached the Intro and Prologue, let me know what you think! Thanks!

Introduction

 It has been known to be said, that space is like a curtain and time is the wind that blows through the tattered holes. Long ago, even before the Wars of Power, lived the Ancients, but this has been forgotten. Today, the mention of the Ancients just stirs up childish imagination of these mythical beings, but myths and legends are born from truth. The legend proclaims that the Ancients were so advanced that no being could imitate their accomplishments. What happened to these mythical beings? They say the Ancients had the ability to travel between worlds. If so, perhaps the Ancients are on another world? If these beings were so advanced, then why is there no evidence of their existence? What tragedy wiped out the most advanced civilization of its time and render it a forgotten memory, and a nearly forgotten myth? That is another story waiting to be told…for now, let’s unfold this one.

   Prologue

              The morning is beautiful and warm. The sun rises over the snow-capped jagged peaks of the mountains, which are the edge of Fairy country known as Tir-Na-Siog [Teer Na See-og]. The sunlight hits the clouds and the sky explodes with color and imagination. Admiring the morning radiance the, Fairy King, Niall [Nye-all], leans on his “balcony of solace,” or so he calls it because it overlooks the forest and mountains instead of the castle city of Dunbhaile [Dune Val-la] which is also the capital city of Tir-Na-Siog. The city sometimes depresses King Niall. The fresh crisp morning air is floating in from the mountains. Scents of fresh pine, cedar, and faint hints of wood smoke from the morning cooking fires fills King Niall’s lungs as he takes a deep breath to help clear his mind. He  pivots and heads toward his throne. This style of throne was built for his father, made from solid quartz crystal trimmed in gold with the royal mark on the back, which is three solid gold circles that form an isosceles triangle with three smaller ones in the same triangle shape in the center. Niall grabs the worn-down golden knuckles on the throne’s arms to sit down, and instantly, several long suppressed memories surface that he’s tried to forget for a long time. Niall sits for a little while, and then sighs out of boredom as he awaits his consulates to bring the morning news. As he waits, his gaze moves to the several pillars of solid sand-colored solid marble that stretch up to the ceiling that create sharp archways. Crystal tiles cover the ceiling. They allow just enough light to enter and brighten up the room where so the fine printed scrolls are easily read, yet not so bright as to cause one to squint. Several plant pots surround the pillars, and violet-velvet vines grow from them, and wrap the pillars almost all the way to the ceiling, it is the one flower scent Niall can’t get tired of.

A door swings open causing an echo from a loud boom. One of Niall’s consulates runs into the throne room with a scroll in his hand. He is known as Sean, a curly-haired, fiery red-headed Fairy, pudgy and paranoid, who perspires profusely, and is afraid of flying. He recently had his wings clipped, and the wounds are still bandaged up. The multitude of copper-colored metal tassels hanging from his gray robe jiggle wildly as he approaches the throne.

           “What’s the matter, Sean?” King Niall asks, noticing that Sean has a bit more anxiety than usual.

           “King Niall…Sire…the Dwarves and Elves have declared war on each other and are about to battle!” the consulate says, out of breath. Drops of sweat rain down his face quickly and create a puddle on the sandy tan-and-green marble floor.

“Where is the battlefield?” King Niall asks, standing up from his throne, then walks, taking large steps, to blatantly avoid the sweat puddle.

           “North of Koralis, in a small valley by the mountains.” Sean points towards Koralis [Core-alice]. King Niall rolls his eyes, he knows where Koralis is.

           “Why?” The King walks around behind the red-headed Fairy so he doesn’t have to watch him sweat, but then he gets a whiff of Sean, causing him to cough slightly.

           “The Elves have stated that some of the Dwarf mines have crossed into their border,” Sean responds.

           “Alright, round up some guards. Let’s go stop a war,” King Niall sighs, rubbing his temples to make a slight headache from irritation go away. Fairies aren’t supposed to have headaches, but the Dwarf and Elven conflicts annoy the King to which leads to his discomfort. For ages, the Elves and Dwarves have always seemed to find excuses to fight one another. More often than not, there is no serious reason for their bickering, but they will fight viciously just to prove the other wrong. It stems from the Wars of Power.

           “Sire.” The consulate bows his head slightly with a large amount sweat falling to the floor. Sean then pivots and runs to start gathering troops. The Fairy King shouts out to his servants to come clean up the sweat.

           King Niall trudges his way to the royal armory and suits up in the royal family battle armor, which is gold with red Fairy tribal designs coming down the chest and the ribs are platinum and the wings are of the finest bladed armor known. Fairy tribal designs are reserved usually for ruling and warrior classes, though some Fairy common folk who have fought well in battle can earn tribal designs, a great honor for a Fairy family. Three golden circles in a triangle layout are set as a badge on the left breast on purpose so that if they are aimed at as a target, vital organs would be missed. The Fairy King swaggers out to the castle’s courtyard to inspect the troops. He always likes wearing armor it accentuates his body, and masculinity. The troops are lined up side by side. To look uniform, the troop’s armor has the same design as the King’s it just uses a silvery metal of lighter durability and weight with red royal tribal designs spreading over the shoulders and down the chest, a design indicating “Royal Guard.” All troops have helmets that match the armor with a nose guard that is shaped with a Fairy knot work design. There are small bladed wings on either side of the helmets. King Niall looks at his troops and realized that the helmets are ghastly, and he notes that he should have them re-designed when he gets back. Mounting his horse, he orders the troops to move out. They mount horses and gallop toward the city gates. Some crowds gather in the streets to cheer on their King and the galloping soldiers.

The royal battalion rides over the tall meadow and wheat-grass fields and through the Fairy Woods. King Niall mentally goes through the options to end this squabble swiftly. The Fairy King is tired of the continuous bickering between the Elves and Dwarves over the years. Of late, it has turned into a weekly occurrence. He wishes he could just wall them up in their respective countries, but that would not be very kingly. Then again, he hasn’t been known for being very kingly, especially when it comes to Elves. He has always had a soft spot for Elves, specifically the Elven ladies. His predilection for the Elves increased when they created the “Porunein [Pore-roo-nine] Potion” several ages ago.

           A day after leaving the city of Dunbhaile, they ride over a large grassy hill and stop on the hillside near the top. From the top they can see a valley of beautiful emerald-green meadow grass with a scent of freshly fallen rain. Dark rain clouds move swiftly above a solid black-rock cliff face on the other side of the valley. Disturbing the scene are two huge armies with about ten thousand troops each. They are milling about the field that is edged with tents, camp-fires, and makeshift stables for the cavalry horses. The wind blowing the storm over the cliffs is keeping the foul smell of the armies at bay.

           “Why do we have to ride these uncomfortable beasts again?” the Fairy King whines, wiggling on his saddle from sores formed from the long ride.

           “We have to appear as equals while interrupting a battle, Sire,” The Captain of the Fairy Army answers. Ian, the captain, is tall as Fairies go, and is built to fight. His arms and legs are covered in his family’s tribal tattoos, which look similar to Fairy knot work only sharper, colored black and red, which are his family’s colors.

King Niall sighs, rolls his eyes, and rides down the hill with his top five hundred soldiers. As they are halfway to the opposing armies, he can see the Elven King Rinnal [Rye-Nall] and the Dwarf Chieftain Forbish [Fore-bish] ride out on their horses to the middle of the battlefield to discuss their terms. “Wait! Please!” shouts King Niall to interrupt. He then rides in and stops between them.

           “My, news travels fast. What do you want?” Forbish grumbles.

           “Well, I heard that there is a party and we weren’t invited,” says Niall, trying to break the ice. “And what a mighty fine party it is!” he shouts to everyone on the battlefield.

           “Sire, these dirt Trolls…”

           “Well, now, King Rinnal, I would take you to war, too, if you called me that,” Niall interrupts, noticing Forbish’s reaction. He lifts his hand to gesture the Chieftain to stand down. “Okay, let’s settle this like the sworn leaders we are. First what the hell possessed you two to go to war?”

           “First, these…Dwarves… have mined over on to our land, and it is law that any material on our land we own. So they have stolen-”

           “No one’s stolen anything, you pompous piece of-”

           “Hey! Knock it off you two!” the Fairy King shouts at the childish leaders in a parental manner.  

           “Sire, you of all people should know that all materials found in the mountains, be it on our side or their side, is ours none-the-less, simply because they won’t do anything with the material, so instead of it going to waste we were allowed to mine it. You should know, your father wrote that law,” says Chieftain Forbish

           “Aye, Master Dwarf, I know what my father did!” King Niall is sensitive about matters concerning his father. “Let’s see how far they have mined into your country, Rinnal, shall we?” the Fairy King suggests, and both opposing parties agree. The rulers return to their sides to announce an intermission in the battle until they return. Some warriors let out a sigh of relief, while others curse and groan they don’t get to kill something and then decide to go hunting for dinner to temper their bloodlust.

           A few hours later, the three kings, plus the captains of their armies and one guard each, ride up the nicely graveled Dwarf mining road that leads to the mine in question’s entrance. The mine is cut through a black solid volcanic rock face.

           “Well, Rinnal, the entrance is in Zwergmaa, but, Forbish, it is very close to Alvaheim’s border,” Niall says noticing the Elven flags that mark their border only yards away as he dismounts from his horse looking around. Alvaheim [Allva-hame] is the name of the Elven Country. The Elvin flag is three crescent moons, situated small to large in forming a triangle shape, with a bird of prey in the center, and at the tip of the triangle is a spiral. There are flags about every couple hundred yards. Zwergmaa [Zeerg-maa] is the name for Dwarf Country. “By the way, if the common law is that the materials found in these mountains are Dwarf claim, then why start showing interest in the material now and causing all this fighting?”

           “There has always been interest and fighting. Your kind just hasn’t cared since your father made that law. If you must know, the interest is historical,” snips the Elf King.

            “Aye, I must. Thank you, Rinnal,” King Niall replies to King Rinnal’s snootiness.

           Usually, Dwarf mines are guarded with a thick metal door, but the one in contention has a simple metal bracing for the door around the entrance. Pieces of wood beams, planks, metal bars, and rails are stacked on the ground to the side in an organized fashion. All indications show this mine is newly cut. The Dwarves, when entering the mine, grab nearby torches being used to light the entrance. The Elves cast a ball of white light in their hands using magic words. The Fairies just use their natural glow with the Fairy King’s shining in a brilliant red and Ian’s in an orange hue. King Niall notices a musty staleness and stillness to the air after walking a few feet into the mine.

           “Where is the airflow, Master Dwarf?” asks the Fairy King.

           “We haven’t created one yet. This is a new mine,” replies Forbish.

           “Well, if the mine is this new, then how do you know if the mine had crossed into your border, King Elf?”

           Just after Niall asks his question, Rinnal takes his fist and pounds twice on the mine wall. There are two long loud echoing booms. The Fairy King looks around listening to the echo, impressed by its length in time. When the echo finally fades away, they continue down the mine’s passageway. Dwarf mines are extremely well built and very clean, despite their environment. They are also very roomy. Dwarves aren’t very tall, but they don’t like to be confined. Several hundred yards into the mine, the group reaches a dead end where the mining has stopped at what looks like a cliff wall that shoots straight up past the light’s reach.

           “So this is where we stopped, and you can see why,” the Dwarf Chieftain gestures at the giant cliff wall. It’s almost as if it had been constructed; it’s too precise to have been made naturally.

           “What is it?” one of the Fairy guards asks, astounded.

           “Clearly, a wall,” King Niall replies.

           “Aye, a wall, but made of material that we cannot seem to penetrate. We planned on going around, but the rock is too unstable that way, and the other…well, it goes into Elven territory,” Forbish adds, pointing in the directions of where they could go around. He shoots a glance at Rinnal when saying “Elven Territory.” Rinnal’s eyes narrow at Forbish.

           “Wait, what?” says the Fairy King surprised at the fact that the Dwarves can’t penetrate the wall. He walks up to the cliff wall and places his hand on it, despite protest from his superstitious guards. It looks wet, yet is actually dry, and there appears to be a harmonic vibration emanating from it; it feels like as if something is moving through it. “Elf King, take me to your mine,” the Fairy King insists, feeling a large unnatural power projecting from beyond the wall. They all depart back through the Dwarf mine at the pace of having a purpose.

It’s about a half a day’s ride to the Elven mine, and so all three leaders tell their one guard to ride back to their stationed armies and inform them to set up camp for the evening. The commanding guards stay with their leaders as they ride through the rocky terrain of the mountains to the Elven mine.

With night approaching, the kings agree it is best that they set up camp. Each leader uses his natural powers to create camps. The Fairies with their higher standards, create a crystalline structure grown from the ground and sky. The Elves, using their power over nature, make the trees, bushes, and other plant life bond together to create their camp structure. The Dwarves do not have strong magical powers, limited to only being able to enchant objects made by hand. This handicap has led them to have strong engineering skills, so they create their encampment from an enchanted configuration of metal and cloth that, once thrown on the ground, opens on its own to make a large fort-like structure. Dwarves are the manufactures of the land; hence mining for materials is so important to them, it’s a large part of their culture.

           “My Lord, may I speak with you…as two Elves who have grown up together?” asks Alastar, the leader of the Elven Armies. He moves the thick hanging vines to one side that creates the entrance to the Elf King’s quarters.

           “Of course, my friend, come in,” The Elf King says, gesturing Alastar to sit on one of the two chairs made from magically altered tree stumps. Rinnal goes to change from his battle armor, which is carved out of a green jewel and lined with gold. He sets down his full-faced helmet. It’s crafted and etched with the Elvin markings and is colored to match his jeweled armor. In his reinforced battle tunic and trousers, Rinnal sits in a wooden throne grown from exotic plants and flowers; some flowers have a bluish glow to them and are trimmed in gold.

“Why in the hell are we taking the Fairy King to the site?” Alastar says bluntly.

           “Do I have a choice? If I don’t, he’ll know something is up. Even though he isn’t the best of kings, he is clever. I only plan on showing him the door. That should be enough; he’ll do the rest,” explains Rinnal, who flicks his long straight silver hair back over his shoulders. He also has a long silver beard flowing from his chin that accentuates his long facial features that Elves typically have. His wrinkles of a couple millennia are just starting to show, yet his brilliant, bright leaf-green eyes still look as young as the day he was born. Elves don’t show their age; silver hair and a couple of wrinkles are the most that appear. Also their skin barely starts to turn a tan color from a pale white; they don’t tan in the sun, only with age.

           “But, Rinnal, I think his curiosity will get the better of us. I can feel it,” Alastar responds, rubbing his brow as he takes off his battle helmet that’s golden with silver trimming with an open face and a nose guard similar to the Fairies’ helmets. They have special slots on the sides for a better fit due to the Elven long ears. His armor is a metal that’s golden in color but is strong and light weight, with silver trimming that sometimes catches the light from the glowing petals from the King’s throne. Alaster’s long, straight hair still shows most of its jet black color, but has a couple of silver streaks in it. His skin is pale white, and he has intense aqua-blue eyes that betray the turmoil he’s seen.

           “Aye, I have felt it, too, my friend, but we can only be aware and not oblivious. As long as we keep our wits, we will be fine.” The Elf King pauses in thought, then says, “It’s getting late, my friend, and I soon need to retire for the night.” He slowly gets up from his throne due to age, as does Alastar from his chair. Even though Rinnal and Alastar are close in age, the duties and worries of being a King have warn Rinnal down quicker.

           “Of course my lord,” Alastar says bowing.

           “Remember, Alastar, we need the King of the Fairies to do his part,” insists Rinnal. Alastar nods his head in acknowledgment and exits the Elf King’s structure.

           As the sun shows first light, King Niall and Ian, Captain of the Fairy Guards, emerge from their dwelling only to see that the Elves and Dwarves have already broken camp and are ready to finish the journey.

           “Okay, ready to go, then?” Niall asks sarcastically, and then turns and sends the crystalline structure back to its origins. In an instant, the structure turns into smoke that rises into the sky and descends back to the earth. The Fairies put their armor on and the leaders and guards mount their horses and finish the ride to the Elven mine.

           The terrain gets rockier and plant life gets smaller and a little sparser cause of the altitude. They approach a very large wall of limestone and volcanic rock where the Elven mine resides. The door blocking the mine is made of a mix of an elaborate red granite stone and a golden creation. Its detail and construction are meticulous and beautiful, Niall and Forbish have never seen one before because they are rare. Elves don’t mine; Dwarves do. The leaders and guards dismount their armored steeds and start to walk towards the mine entrance, with Forbish in the lead. As they get closer to the entrance, Rinnal and Alastar exchange looks, with Alastar’s being one of disapproval.

           “My, King Rinnal, this is a might pretty door,” says Niall, as he touches it and runs his hand along the gold trim, admiring the detail. “How do we get in?”

           “Stand back, Sire,” the Elf King replies politely. As everyone steps back, King Rinnal starts casting a spell using magic words. Elves have powerful magic, and almost won the Wars of Power, but their handicap is that all their spells must be spoken. This means their spells are somewhat easily taken care of with a silent charm if one is not careful. Speaking spells is the most common way magic beings cast spell along with feeling, most magical creatures can speak to cast spells. All magic needs emotion to be cast. Few beings, like the Fairies, can conjure spells by thought or pure feelings.

After the spell is spoken, a wooden vine grows from the ground and snakes its way to the center of the mine door. The door, has a golden circle in the center with Elvish writing around it, and in the center is a small, square opening. The tip of the wooden vine enters the opening in the center of the golden circle, and then the vine glows a bright blue. The Elvish writing starts to glow in a bright blue as well. The four golden bars embedded in the stone coming out of the golden circle forming an “X” slide into the mountain, and then the four stone slabs also slide into the mountain. The ground shakes slightly from the movement of their immense weight. When the seal of the door breaks, a rush of air sucks in, creating an airflow, indicating that this is not a new mine. The only thing remaining is the wooden vine, which is not glowing anymore, holding the golden circle at its tip.

           “Fancy locking system for just a mine,” states Forbish.

           “All Elven mines have the same locking system, Master Dwarf,” snips Rinnal.

           “Now, Sprites. How about we go check out the mine.” Niall says exasperatedly and starts walking into the mine.

           “Sire, WAIT!” shouts Alastar, and just as Niall stops in his tracks a large ball of flame shoots across the mine. If the Fairy King hadn’t been stopped he would have been turned to ash.

           “A BOOBY TRAP? REALLY, RINNAL? BOOBY TRAPS!” shouts King Niall, catching his breath.

           “Not Elves, Sire, we did not leave these traps,” Alastar explains.

           “Traps? So there are more?” Ian asks, a bit worried.

           “Forbi…” the Fairy King starts.

           “Hey, don’t look at us,” the Dwarf Chief denies.

           “Who left them?”

           “Not sure, Sire, they were here when we opened the passageway. We lost many Elves discovering all of the traps,” the Elf King explains in a mournful tone.

           “But you have discovered them all, right?” Niall asks, concerned about something worse than being burned in half.

           “As far as we know,” Alastar grunts, a bit upset that the Fairy King dismissed the fact about the fallen Elves.

           “It’s your mine, King Elf, lead the way,” says Niall, gesturing the two Elves to lead. Rinnal and Alastar hesitantly walk in the mine. Alastar explains that after the fireball is ignited, there are about twenty seconds before it activates again. The Fairy King throws a stone to activate the fireball. The instant it passes by, all of them hurry through, the last one being Forbish, who just barely makes it, when another fireball shoots out, just singeing his braided pony-tail. He hurries to put out the flame as he curses in Dwarvish.

           The air starts to thicken with humidity, and the tunnel walls begin to dampen as it opens up into a large chamber. Before them is a small underground lake. The chamber is lit by Elven lanterns that are spaced around the lake at the openings into the chamber. Elven lanterns use a luminescent potion that lights with a bluish-white light. Looking around, the newcomers to the chamber notice the only way across is to jump onto large boulders that seem to be strategically placed in the lake.

           “Careful, Sire, I sense something. This could be another booby trap.” Ian places his hand on Niall’s shoulder to pause him.

           “Follow us exactly! Step on the wrong boulder and it activates a switch that is connected to one of the sharp stones in the ceiling, which will fall and impale you,” Alastar says with a stern tone. The group looks around, and notices that some of the sharp stalactites have already fallen. If someone were to be hit by one of these massive stones, impalement would be the least of their worries. There really wouldn’t be anything left.

           Alastar insists on going first, and not a soul argues with him. Elves have incredible speed and balance and have been known to jump long distances. Alastar confirms the rumor as he leaps to the first safe boulder. The stability of the boulder is questionable, as it wobbles from his landing. Once he gains his composure, he leaps to the next safe boulder. When the first one is available, the Fairy Captain opens his armored wings, which make an impressive sound of metal on metal slicing through the air. He grabs the Dwarf head guard, flies him to the first boulder, and places him there. The longer the Fairies are in the air, the smaller they get, until they are about the size of a dragon-fly, so in order for this to work, King Niall will let the Fairy Captain fly back to shore and let his size return, and then Niall will pick up the Dwarf head guard and move him farther along as the Fairy Captain carries the Dwarf Chieftain to the first boulder. Then they will rotate again, each time resting on either the shore or an open safe boulder to regain their size.

           Halfway across Gordon, the Dwarf head guard, starts getting impatient and loud. His erratic behavior is causing his boulder to shake uncontrollably and wobble more than it should…suddenly, to everyone’s relief, he falls in and all is quiet. King Niall laughs, and Forbish shakes his head, slightly embarrassed. One by one they start to realize that the quiet is too long, and Alastar leaps over, as the Fairy Captain flies over head to get a better look. Gordon is being forced under water by several cave leaches that are about the size of a large carrot. Alastar is slightly stunned, because they have never encountered cave leaches there before. The water is starting to turn red from the Dwarf’s blood. Alastar starts reaching in the water and pulling off leaches as the Dwarf struggles for breath. The leaches are slimy and surprisingly muscular, which makes them hard to grip. They have no eyes, and their mouths are full of several rows of teeth that encircle their mouth and go down to their stomach. Every time Alastar is able to wrench off a leach, three grab on to his arm. Their strength is unbelievable for their size. The leaches almost pull Alastar in the water, but he escapes just as he sees the Dwarf head guard’s last breath escape and the gold light of his magic extinguish. Instantly Gordon’s body is engulfed with leaches.

           “Move out of the way!” the Fairy Captain yells at Alastar. Just then, a leach leaps out of the water and just misses Alastar’s face. Ian casts a lightning spell that should hopefully kill the leaches, or at least stun them. The cave gets dark, and then a bright blue light emanates from the Fairy Captain’s body, and arcs of electricity start to snake around his body and then extend out to his surroundings. Ian focuses the magical power at the water, and with a bright flash and crack of thunder, all of the leaches stop moving and start motionlessly floating in the water. Alastar places his hand over the water to sense the leaches’ life, since Elves are in tune with all living creatures. He can feel that they are only stunned!

           “GO!” he shouts back at the group.

           King Niall flies over to Forbish and picks him up, while the Fairy Captain regains his size, then just as Niall is getting too small, Ian takes over. They do this back and forth until they get the Dwarf Chieftain to the shore on the other side. In the meantime, King Rinnal and Alastar are leaping on the boulders. About two-thirds of the way there, the leaches awaken and begin to chase them by leaping out of the water after them. Rinnal makes it with the help of Alastar’s taking of a few leaches so his King will be safe. Once they land on shore, Alastar casts a spell using magic words to engulf his body in a flame that lasts for a couple seconds so that he can burn the leaches off his body.

           “Whew, that was exciting! Everyone okay?” King Niall asks. “My apologies for your loss, Chieftain.”

           “Aye, let’s get a move on,” Forbish grumbles, adjusting his axe holder, dusting off his bear-skin tunic that’s over his hooded chainmail armor. Dwarves are not ones to show their emotions.

The cave narrows into another tunnel, only leaving about a foot of space above the head of the Fairy King, who is the tallest of the group of leaders. Fairies are usually tall when they aren’t flying.

           “Stop!” Alastar, who’s leading them down the tunnel, puts his hand up to emphasize his point for them to stop.

           “What? Not another damn trap!” King Niall whines.

           “Yes, and it’s different than before,” Rinnal says, stepping forward, sensing something.

           “You mean the enchantment?” asks the Fairy King as if it’s no big deal.

           “Aye, sire,” Alastar grunts. He does not like the Fairy King. Alastar says a magic word and the tunnel instantly brightens up. The group of leaders new to the mine are dumbfounded when they see five sets of metal blades slicing in and out of the tunnel wall, waiting for a victim. But what catches their interest even more is the tunnel’s muddy rocky floor; it has bottomless holes appearing and disappearing at random.

           “The blades I could handle, but the holes, what is that?” the Fairy King asks with frustration.

           “Sire, it’s not a problem for us. We can just fly across…see?” the Fairy Captain says, a bit cocky, as starts to fly down the tunnel dodging the blades and avoiding the tunnel floor all together. As Ian is speeding down the tunnel, Alastar shouts to let him know that there should be a switch at the end to stop the blades. When Ian gets to the end, he notices that the tunnel opens to another huge cavern, larger than the one with the lake. It, too, is lit by Elven lanterns. He sees the switch, which is just a big stone lever. Quickly he pulls it down, and the blades and holes disappear. “Yeah! That’s why fairies…” Before the Fairy Captain can finish his gloating, a giant cave bat about two or three stories high suddenly grabs Ian with its mouth, then eats him.

           “What the hell is at the end of this mine?” the Fairy King shouts as they run towards the end of the tunnel. The bat has flown up to the ceiling and is hanging upside down enjoying his recent meal, then it spits out the bits of armor it can’t chew up. The cavern is several times the size of the lake cavern. Its floor has a large crack splitting the room in half, with a huge underground river flowing extremely fast to an unknown location below it. The only way across the large crack is a bridge of silvery white stone that was made by some unknown person or people. The Elves do not claim responsibility for its creation, but it’s definitely not natural.

           “Where did that bat come from?” asks the Fairy King.

           “No idea, Sire, perhaps it’s been here the whole time…” Alastar has a hard time believing the explanation he has just made.

           “Either way it needs to be destroyed. It’s not going to let us across that bridge,” Forbish says preparing himself for battle. King Niall is mulling over the idea of getting more troops in there, but the Dwarf Chieftain does not have much patience and pulls out one of his throwing axes and throws it, hitting the bat in one of its feet, causing it to let go of the ceiling and crash onto the bridge.

           “Oh, he looks very upset!” exclaims Niall, who then he uses his wing armor to protect himself from rocks flying at him from the gust of wind caused from the bat taking flight. It releases a deafening scream that stuns the four of them; their bodies become stiff and rigid. Forbish quickly comes to and then charges the bat, which takes a swipe at him with his claw on the end of its wing. Forbish ducks and rolls forward, avoiding the strike, then finds himself behind the bat. He slices the bat’s good leg, which causes it to screech again and fly up. As it is ascending, Alastar throws a dagger into its wing, while the Elf King is trying to get a lock on the creature to find out why it’s so angry, but he can’t. He can’t sense anything. It is as if this beast is made of just magic. The Fairy King figures he will cast a stunning spell at the bat, which works becauses it falls out of the sky and hits the ground completely stiff. Wasting no time, Forbish runs over and lops its head off and grunts something to it in Dwarfish.

The ones left alive in the group all push the large bat carcass over the bridge into the underground river, where it takes it a very long time to hit the water. They are unaware that they are several hundred feet from the river. “This better be worth it, Elf King,” King Niall says, slightly out of breath, as he gestures to Alastar to continue to lead the way.

The cavern shrinks back down to a tunnel again almost to the point to where they have to crawl, and then suddenly they come to the point behind the whole journey, the giant cliff wall! King Niall and Chief Forbish instantly notice the difference of this side. The wall is covered with writings from four different dialects etched in the stone, but none of the leaders could read them. Another major difference is that this wall has a door. Not an Elven door, but made from solid stone, not black volcanic like it was in the mine, but something else, almost like it’s a mix of stone and metal. Above the door carved in the stone is a symbol. Two parallel arches with two curved lines coming out of the tips, one coming out of the top line on the right side and one coming out of the bottom line on the left side, but the two arching lines are not touching each other. Niall has a vague memory of this symbol, but he can’t seem to recall its meaning. Centered on the door is the symbol of the ruling hierarchy, three circles in an isosceles triangle formation with another smaller set of three smaller circles in the middle, and in the middle of that is a hand imprint not carved but cut into the solid metallic stone door.

           “Amazing,” Forbish says stunned; it’s extremely rare for a Dwarf to be in “awe.”

           “Aye, Master Dwarf, it’s beautiful,” the Elf King replies, acknowledging more its historical significance.

           “The Ancients!” the Fairy King spontaneously shouts. Everyone looks at him simultaneously as he goes on and says, “That symbol over the door represents the Ancients! Well the lower one is, but why is there a mirror version above it?” All members of the ruling hierarchy go through, or used to go through, schooling at the religious temples of the Ancients, back when the beliefs of the Ancients were strong. But since no evidence of the Ancients was ever found, going to the temples has slowly diminished, until the current Fairy King’s father basically abandoned the idea and existence of the Ancients altogether. Now all that is left of the whole religion are scattered rogue communities. Except for the courts, they are the only thing still using the ways and laws of the Ancients, yet they, too, have lately been drifting away from the Ancient’s teachings and become more focused on just politics.

           “They’re a myth, nothing more than children’s tales,” argues Forbish.

           “Apparently not,” the Fairy King replies, gesturing and still in awe at the unmistakable proof of the Ancients’ existence towering in front of him. “Look, that lower portion is the Ancient’s symbol!” He adds, holding his hand up to block the upper portion of the carving. He puts his hand down, and then his curiosity gets the best of him, and he inches closer to the door. Once he is in arm’s length, Niall looks at his royal birth marks on his right forearm, freckles in a isosceles triangle formation; they are glowing, he then places his hand in the cut-out on the door.

The Elf King smiles to himself with excitement. The Elves have known about this door for a long time, and now the Elf King will be able to finally see what’s behind it. A strange sound echoes through the cave as a bright blue light with golden edges explodes from the hand cut-out, then the Ancients’ symbol above the door glows golden, and King Niall notices the marks on his arm start glowing gold also. The door slides open with a rush of air that blows by, and reveals…darkness and a constant roaring sound, like a river or a waterfall. Niall turns around with a look of childlike curiosity, he gives a mischievous grin and walks in.

           “Sire, no!” Alastar goes to stop him, but the Elf King holds him back. The darkness starts to fade away as a bluish light from beyond the door slowly comes to a glow. Chief Forbish, not hearing a sound of horror coming from the darkened doorway, concludes there is no danger and walks through. The two Elves left behind look at each other then too follow. They enter a massive chamber that looks like it has been carved and cut out of solid blue agate. The air smells and feels moist and humid, yet sterile. The floor is tiled with larger polished black and grey granite slabs checkered like a chessboard. In the center of the room is a broken white marble pedestal. Around the pedestal is the source of the roar and bluish light, a large pillar of water spouting upward out of it with magnificent force back into the ceiling and glowing a soft blue. Centered in the water pillar, stabbed into the broken marble pedestal, is a sword. It has a white handle with two blue metallic snakes that wrap around it and form the hilt. Their tails at the bottom of the handle hold a green polished transparent sphere. At the snakes’ heads, which form the hilt guards, are eyes that seem to be made of the same green material. It’s a cross blade, with four edges for the single blade, and is made of a dark mirrored metal. About two-thirds of the way down from the blade’s tip, the shape angles in sharply, then slowly fans back out into the hilt. At the widest point in the four-edged blade are holes cut out like something is supposed to be inserted into them.

           Around the pillar in the floor are equal numbers of the granite slabs with symbols carved in them, similar yet different from the one above the door on the cliff wall. As the Fairy King walks closer to the pillar of water, it starts to go down, and his red natural glow grows brighter. Once he is close enough to touch the sword, the pillar of water has gone completely into the ground; he can hear it being held under by some force. King Niall goes to grab the sword and can feel its power. He’s never felt power from an object quite like this before. If all the Dwarves in the world used all of their enchanting power to put into one object, it still wouldn’t come close to the magnitude of the power he is feeling from this sword. As his fingers wrap around the handle, he notices the white part feels smooth, yet where the snakes wrap around it they give it a surprisingly strong grip, making the handle extremely comfortable. The blade starts to glow, and with no struggle the Fairy King pulls out the sword. Instantly it rusts and has no power at all, nothing.

“What? It’s a joke, a damn magic trick! Why would the Ancients pull a trick like this? Here,” the disappointed Fairy King tosses the rusty sword to the Elf King, “this was a waste of my life. Let’s go!”

Niall, backs away from the pillar, annoyed. Suddenly water shoots up from the pillar and slams into the ceiling, breaking a hole through to the surface; a bright blue light with golden edges shoots into the sky from the hole where the pillar was, and at its peak, it breaks off into three directions with a blue concussion wave of magic emanating from the epicenter from where the light splits into three.

Immediately sounds of banging, clicking, and moving parts throughout the mine appear. Everything begins to shake and fall apart as there is a roar of rushing water and then it blasts up from the floor where the hole was, making a much bigger hole, and quickly starts flooding the room.

           “Best we leave now, before we drown!” shouts Forbish. Everyone is in agreement and follows the stocky Dwarf back the way they came in. All of those noises the leaders heard before the cave started to self-destruct were the traps being deactivated, so they can run out with their only worry now being getting crushed under heavy rocks and water. They dramatically dive out of the entrance as a loud CRASH sounds and a large cloud of dust and water sprays out of the rubble of the collapsed mine.

Slowly the leaders get up off the ground one by one, dusting themselves off, and the Fairy King says, “Give me that,” as he snatches the rusty sword from the Elf King. As the blade moves through the air, a blue streak follows it. “I should keep it, to remind me of the day I almost died. Okay, lads, where is the nearest pub? And bring me my Porunein Potion!”