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wildestaugust · 3 years

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Don’t You • C.L

Summary: charles sees his ex-girlfriend months after breaking up.

Author: what watching ‘scenes from a marriage’ and listening to taylor swift and adele does to me.

Warnings: smut, angst, nsfw content, +18, unprotected sex.

Part 2

For the first time in six months, after breaking up with Charles, she was attending an F1 grand prix. Sascha, one of her closest friend, had invited her to the paddock club at Sochi for the russian grand prix. Sascha had gotten the tickets almost eight months prior to the race, so when she found out her friend and the ferrari driver broke up, she was unsure if the plan to go with her was still a possibility.

While it wasn't exactly what she had hoped for in the first week she was spending in Russia, she had no heart to tell her not to go, Sascha was extremely excited to finally attend her home grand prix and, while she wasn't totally ready to be at the same place as Charles, she could bear two hours at the Sochi Autodrom.

"Honestly, if you don't want to go it's okay, I'll just tell my cousin to take the tickets." Sascha said before leaving to the airport.

"It's fine. I'll be okay, besides, I already packed my suitcase!" She joked. "You have had those tickets for months! My love life won't affect your plan." A smile grew on her face as she assured her friend there was no problem.

She had met Charles through her cousin who introduced them during the new year's eve in monaco when they were just seventeen, however, he didn't formally asked her to be his girlfriend until her eighteenth birthday for which he threw her a surprise party with their closest friends and family. Charles was her first everything, first kiss, the first boy she formally introduced to her family as her boyfriend and, on the intimate side, her first time. Overall, they went through the process of experiencing the transition of adulthood together as they moved in to his penthouse when they were only twenty one.

It had been a solid relationship of a little over four years and she was extremely proud to see his growth in motorsport as she had been there since his first race in Formula 3 and then, during the australian grand prix where he debuted in Formula 1. It made her the happiest girl to watch him achieve his dream and doing it while she was by his side.

She was there to help him grieve the death of his godfather and, he cried on her arms as he heard his father's last heartbeat. Both of them had gone through a lot over those years and they had found a lot of happiness when he finally reached his dream of signing with Ferrari, being one of the youngest driver to do so. He had made her a promise that he was going to sign with them in honor of his father and godfather and, once he finally got the news he had a Ferrari seat for the next season, he went with her to his father's gravestone to just spend that afternoon sitting there, comforting him on one of his most vulnerable moments.

As all good things in life come to an end so did their relationship back in march, just before the start of the season. Over the months ahead of the break up, they had started to spend less time together, with Charles being constantly away. It was hard to get a week for themselves when she was also studying part time at The Sorbonne in Paris which meant weekly flights back and forth to Monaco. As much as her feelings hadn't change, there was no point on staying in, what felt to her, a one-sided relationship with how difficult it had become to enjoy it.

The break up was hard for both of them. The first month Charles tried, unsuccessfully, to reach out to her through each and everyone of their friends, also, it got to a point where it was almost unbearable to go on a run around monaco without thinking of him. It was her mom who suggested her to stay in Paris where she would be far away of everything that could remind her of him.

A smile filled with nostalgia formed on her lips as she walked to their seats. Attending races had become such a normal thing to do and suddenly, once she broke up with Charles, it was almost impossible for her to watch the races without feeling sad, however, after months, attending that race was cathartic, as if she had finally let go of something.

"We've got nice seats!" Sascha happily said taking a picture.

"Yeah, these are awesome. I used to watch the races from the paddock so this is actually the first time I'll be watching from this angle!" She commented.

"Well, I think this view is way better, besides, there are no sweaty men around you!" Sascha joked. "I shouldn't bring this up, but you already know me... How do you feel right now?"

"This is strange, I think if you would've brought me here four months ago I wouldn't be able to stay longer than five minutes without crying." she replied truthfully. "Now, all these months after, I feel more mentally strong to be seating here, knowing very well he's somewhere around us."

"I'm glad to hear that but, do you feel that you've moved on completely?" That was a question she wasn't expecting at all.

Before answering, as if the universe was trying to help her, their surroundings erupted in cheers as it was announced that the race was about to start. The cars had done the formation lap and, for what she had heard, Charles was starting the race almost at the back of the grid in nineteenth place due to an engine penalty for which she hoped he could finish somewhere in the top ten.

"Why don't we watch the race and afterwards we have a proper chat?" Sascha's full attention was on the cars. Her friend understood her excitement, back in 2018 she almost bursted in tears when she saw Charles on his first grand prix, definitely there was something about those races that caused such an euphoric feeling.

Ferrari was leading with Sainz but, her focus was on the other Ferrari that had managed to gain seven places. The race itself was filled with a lot of action and suspense which surprised her considering Sochi was one of her least favorite circuits due to the lack of excitement over the years.

"Oh! that was close." Sascha expressed as the screen showed lance stroll almost colliding with his teammate.

"I know! Besides, it's Seb, how dare he?" She replied. Sebastian Vettel was one of her favorite drivers and, while he was still at Ferrari, Charles used to tease her for being such a fan girl.

During the next laps there wasn't a major change, Norris was still leading, however, during the closing laps it started raining —which many thought was unlikely after a dry start— for which most drivers started to pit. Luckily for them, their seats weren't exposed to the rain but the people on the other side of the track were quick to open their umbrellas as the rain got heavier.

Her heart almost dropped as she saw how Charles struggled with the car in the heavy rain, he was having an amazing race coming from nineteenth all the way to fourth place, but what happened next was unfortunate as he went off the track due to a struggle with the car since he hadn't pitted.

"Oh... wow." Sascha gasped as they showed the replay.

"So unfortunate." She commented.

In what was a dramatic ending with Norris going off the track as well, Hamilton ended up winning his one hundredth Grand Prix while Charles finished fifteenth. He did an awesome race until that very unfortunate moment on the last three laps, and she knew Charles very well to know that, more than disappointed, he was pissed for that mistake.

They left their seats and walked closer to where the trophy ceremony was taking place. It had been a crazy race considering also that Verstappen had started a place behind Charles and he ended up in second place after Norris' mistake.

"One hundred wins... that's insane!" her friend said while taking pictures as Hamilton was handed his trophy.

"Yeah... incredible." She said speechless, knowing they were witnessing history being made.

After the celebrations they immediately tried to exit the circuit since the traffic would be too long if they chose to stay longer. Before leaving, Sascha made sure to snap a selfie of themselves in front of the podium.

"This was so fun, I wonder why I didn't accept your other invites after Monza in 2019." the russian said making a sad face.

"I don't know, maybe you appreciate it more now that you're a ricciardo fan!" She teased smiling.

As they finally decided to walk out of the place, she took a quick glance around, she didn't want to see him, however, there was no denying that there was still that feeling of sadness whenever a race didn't go as planned and that race genuinely was very upsetting for her since she knew how much pressure he usually put on himself. All she could hope for was for him to get properly comforted that day.

At the Ferrari garage, Charles was still furious at himself for the mistake in lap fifty that had made him drop eleven places, from fourth all the way to fifteenth.

"I'm going for a walk, guys." He said to his team as he walked out.

The last few months had been frustrating, every time he was about to get a fantastic result something would come at the very last minute that ultimately fucked his race.

It was in those moments that he missed her, she knew how to properly make him feel good after a shitty race. The memories with his ex-girlfriend started flooding his mind, she was always the first one to arrive and the last one to go at the start of his Formula 3 career. She was his everything from the first time they kissed back when they were just teenagers, no one would've foreshadowed what would they become once they grew up.

His favorite memory with her was after his win in Monza, she waited for him in his motorhome after the multiple interviews he did on the circuit and, as soon as they kissed, they ended up making love there without anyone noticing it. Now, there he was, pissed at himself with no one to go home to. He walked around the garages for a while, thinking about everything that had happened on the last two races and, suddenly, as he looked around, his eyes fell on two brunette girls that were taking selfies near the podium.

He recognized the one in the red coat and, without realizing it, he had a grin on his face while looking at her. The last time they saw each other was a week after they broke up when she went to the penthouse to take her things, that was exactly six months ago.

He knew someday they would just casually see each other, however, a formula 1 grand prix was at the bottom of the list of the places where that could happen. Even if he wanted, he couldn't stop staring, it had been a long time since he saw her that close.

The Monégasque started to walk towards them as they made their way to leave the circuit, even though he didn't have his credential with him and would most likely be in trouble once he tried to go back to the paddock without it. His mind was all over the place, he couldn't come up with anything to tell her, he was completely overwhelmed as he remembered just how bad it ended between them.

Just before walking out to the parking lot where they already were, he made up his mind and tried to calm himself even though it would be hard not to kiss her. He made his way to approach her and, just as he was about to tap her shoulder, she turned around. She thought her eyes were betraying her, there was no way he was there. He was still on his red race suit that ironically matched with her coat, his hair was a bit messy probably due to the balaclava and helmet he wore for almost two hours, nonetheless, he was looking the same he always did.

"I knew I'd run into you somewhere." he said.

"...Charles." She was ecstatic.

"How have you been?" He replied smiling, not sure if he had the right words to say.

"All good... Do you remember Sascha?" Charles glanced to the other brunette who stood next to her.

"Of course, long time no see!" He met Sascha at her house back when they were just friends, a few months before her eighteenth birthday.

"Nice to see you, Charles." Sascha replied giving him a short hug. "I'll start the car, you guys can talk if you want." the russian had just broken the ice between the two as she got inside the car.

None of them knew what to do, they were both speechless after months without knowing anything about the other and suddenly, in the gray weather of Russia, they faced each other once again.

"Well, if we're going to be like this I suggest we open an umbrella in case of rain!" She joked. "I'm sorry for today's race, by the way."

"It was shitty but, it isn't the end of the world, hopefully in turkey I can get a much better result." he replied. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I went to Moscow to visit Sascha and she had the tickets! It's weird coming back to these races, I think my last one was Abu Dhabi." she explained.

"Well, I hope I'm still your favorite driver." he said smiling.

"You made me fell in love with the sport so yeah, definitely." She laughed.

"Are you doing something tonight?" he questioned in the hopes that he could invite her to his hotel where they could talk more calmly.

"We're going to eat and then back to the hotel since we leave to Moscow tomorrow morning."

"Can I pick you up at your hotel? I'd love to have a proper chat." Charles suggested.

"Fine... do you still have my number?" she asked. It felt weird asking that to someone with whom she experienced her most vulnerable moments, as if he was a stranger. "If you do, just text me in an hour and I'll send you my location." For the first time in months, they hugged.

"Bye, guess I'll see you later..." She needed to get inside the car as fast as she could, it was overwhelming everything that happened in the last ten minutes, definitely hugging Charles wasn't what she expected.

Charles stood there with just one thought in his mind, he wanted his girlfriend back.

Her hotel was just ten minutes away from his. How ironic it was that all that time they were just a couple of streets away from each other. The last time he felt extremely nervous was on their first date, which he remembered it all too well, that was the day they kissed for the first time and it was a moment Charles had treasured during all those years.

He smiled as he spotted the brunette exiting the lobby, she had a slight outfit change, choosing a beige oversized coat with a short white dress. Charles got out of the car as she approached him.

"I hope we're going to an indoor place because the temperature is killing me!" she said.

Charles hugged her once she was close enough. He could smell his favorite perfume of hers —Dior's Miss Dior— as he embraced her on his arms, no one could understand how much he hoped to have her that close to him once again.

"You look very pretty, ma jolie." those last words slipped out of his lips unintentionally, he just said what he had on his mind.

She didn't say a single word as she got inside the car, dismissing him completely. Him calling her that, after a long time, set her mind back to all those romantic moments they spent during their relationship, Charles always found a way to make her feel special and he was the only person that had called her that, that's why those words had such an effect on her, because they had built a secret language, one only they understood, and once everything crumbled, it unintentionally damaged both as no one else understood each other like them.

"My hotel is a few blocks down!" he said as they got inside the car. "I want to drink a glass of wine, it's all I need after this afternoon's disaster."

"Well, to me, you did great. You will get what you deserve." She smiled. It genuinely hurt deep inside of her seeing him struggle, while she wasn't following that season at all, it was always those last minute issues that affected his race and it was obvious to her that it frustrated him.

It didn't matter if they were no longer romantically involved, before he became her boyfriend he was her friend and nothing would ever stop her from caring about him nor believing he could get that championship, she was certain his time was coming.

"I hope so..." As he drove, the only thing heard inside the car was the radio playing Adele's When We Were Young.

How ironic, she thought with a grin on her face.

Nothing else was said, while she felt comfortable being there with him —otherwise she would've just told him 'no'—, it was extremely hard to think what would they possibly say to each other, they never discussed properly anything about the break up, essentially she just broke up with him and a week later she went to the penthouse to pick up the rest of her stuff without actually acknowledging him.

Did they need to discuss their break up? She didn't think it was necessary, in her mind Charles clearly needed to focus on his career and having a relationship at the same time didn't work out as they initially thought it would, to her, it was clear from the day she took that decision that it was best for both of them, however, she knew Charles did wanted to speak about it, otherwise he wouldn't had asked her to go out that night.

The minutes went by and they were getting out of the car to walk towards the hotel lobby. Charles suggested to get a drink at the bar which she agreed to as long as he didn't get wasted, to which he simply accepted since it was rare for him to get drunk after those last four months or so.

"When are you leaving?" she asked curiously.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll go back to Maranello for the next two weeks before the Turkish race." he explained as they walked in the bar.

"Oh, then I don't think you should drink tonight, what if you miss your flight?" she replied.

"Come on, you already know I've got plenty of alarms." Charles laughed as they sat on a table. One of the waiters approached them and they quickly decided on ordering two glasses of wine. "So... how have you been these months?" Charles needed to break the ice somehow, besides, as much as he tried to talk to her friends, he wasn't aware of if she was seeing someone else.

"I've been in Paris, I'm still deciding if I love it enough to move there full time." she explained. Paris became her safe place after leaving Monaco. "You?"

"Between Monaco and Maranello. To be honest I barely go to Monaco nowadays, I rather have my family visit me in Italy." After she moved out of his place it was almost unbearable to stay there without thought of her invading his mind.

He started spending more time in Maranello, immersing himself with his work at Ferrari and spending as much time as possible with the engineers discussing about the car and the improvements they could do during the season. The more time he spent in Italy, the less he'd think about her, or so he thought.

"I thought you said you'd never leave Monaco." She asked.

"It's a bit hard to go back there since I really don't have anyone to go home with." Charles' words slipped out of his mouth filled with self-pity.

The waiter came with their drinks and once he was gone, she turned to face Charles again. What could she say to that?

"I think we both have a little blame for that." She said taking a long sip of her wine.

"I don't want to play the victim card but, was this my fault?" He asked.

"I think it wasn't healthy for us anymore, we couldn't even allow us, at least, a month together. I know I should've mentioned it way before but, I didn't want to face reality because in my mind I wanted it to work out and, eventually, it didn't." She tried hard. Every time she could skip college just to be with him felt like heaven.

"And who says it can't? As far as i'm concerned we're still alive." she let out a chuckle.

"Charles, we will hate each other. If we can't be together at this moment, imagine what it would be in the next three years when your career becomes bigger." He could call her selfish but, her love for him was such that she couldn't allow herself to hate him and, in order to stay true to herself, she had to let him go, even if that destroyed her momentarily.

"I would never hate you, for god's sake! Are you listening to yourself?" he reproached.

"How can you discuss what you can't find words for?" She said without showing any emotions in her face, barely feeling anything. Without realizing it she had finished her glass in three sips. "I'm sorry, Charles. I wish you all the best but, I won't let us destroy each other by being selfish."

As she got up, before even walking out, Charles was quicker and, without any warning, he kissed her on the lips while his arms wrapped her waist. He needed to feel his lips on hers once again, even if it was only for one last time.

"Don't you realize what you mean to me?" He said pressing his forehead against hers once she pulled out of the kiss.

It took her a few seconds until she eventually kissed him back. Her own thinking betrayed her as she found herself immersed on his touch, it was like all she had said previously was thrown out as soon as their lips found each other.

"Take me to your room before I run away, please." She breathlessly said.

She hated how much she didn't hate him, not even a little. Letting go of Charles meant losing the love of her life but, she had to do it, otherwise she feared they would've become joyless, monotonous, and slowly unbearable to each other as the affection drifted away due to each other's responsibilities which kept them physically apart. She had seen many films and read many books, and if there was something that scared, it definitely was mirroring some of her favorite films like Blue Valentine or Sally Rooney's best-selling book, Normal People which she had read a few months before breaking up.

She was a masochist for being once again on his arms,

longing to devour his lips as soon as they were inside his room. Her issue was that she thought it would be easy to just walk away from him yet, it took everything in her to just spit those words out of her mouth.

"I missed you, mon amour." he said pinning her on the wall as soon as he closed his room's door. His mouth was on her neck while his hands trailed all the way to her bum, squeezing it gently.

"Me too, mon cœur." She moaned.

Charles lead her to his bed so she could be more comfortable. His eyes were filled with lust as he got on top of her to kiss her lips once more while his hands lifted up her dress, desperately trying to take off her underwear. He couldn't remember a time when they weren't like that, devouring each other's mouth, clearly, their sex drive was high and all those months apart were showing as none of them couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

Once he threw her underwear to the floor, he pulled her legs apart and, without any warning, he sank in between them. A muffled moan escaped her lips as his tongue deepened in her. Charles knew how much she loved it every time he went down on her.

"Fuck, I needed this." she whimpered.

He easily found her clit and, wasting no time, he sucked it, quickly driving her over the edge. He knew exactly how to push her buttons, many morning he had woken her up with his mouth between her legs, sucking her until she begged to have him inside of her.

"Has anyone ever make you feel like this, ma jolie?" He was sick for even asking the question.

"It has always been you, only you." She said before letting out a loud moan.

His grip tightened on her thighs as he relentlessly sucked her, swirling around her clit, while her moans and whimpers became more frequent as his tongue delved into her mercilessly. Charles could feel she was close to coming undone, however, he couldn't allow the show to end that shortly.

"I'm close, please..." His intuition didn't betray him, she was already begging. Truth was, she couldn't hold it anymore, she desperately needed to come undone on him.

"Don't even think about it." he warned.

"Charles, I can't; please." Her back was completely arched as she struggled to even let out her words. He slapped her bum making her clench at his touch.

He wasn't letting her come, instead, he chose to tease her further, however, while she kept approaching her high, he suddenly stopped, sending a wave of rage down her body.

"Why? No! " She cried out just as he denied her of an orgasm.

"You're impatient, mon amour, I had to do something about it." He cockily said slapping her thigh.

"I want you to fuck me, don't do this to me." she breathlessly begged.

He loved hearing how desperate she was to have him inside of her, so much, it even brought a smirk on his face. He was going to completely satisfy all her needs but, he loved taking his time just tease her properly.

"I will, princess." He smiled. "I want you on top of me."

She did as she was told and, before moving on top of him, she quickly tossed her dress on the floor while he desperately took off his pants, however, before taking off his underwear, she placed her hand on his bulge, stroking it softly as he groaned at her touch.

"You look so fucking beautiful." He said as she got on top of him. His favorite position was definitely that one, nothing turned him more than having her on all her glory in front of him.

She lowered herself down on him, letting out a moan as she did so. "Fuck, this feels too good." Charles hands held a tight grip on her hips as she softly began to ride him as she had done many times.

"Don't stop, mon amour." He encouraged as she increased her pace.

He was hypnotized by her movements, her body felt just right on top of his. He let out a few groans as he enjoyed the view of her just endlessly riding him, he was making sure to picture that moment on his mind so he could never forget it.

"You make me feel so good, don't you see? don't you see how good we make each other feel?" he said trying to catch his breath.

"Yes... we do." At that point the room was filled with their moans. She leaned forward to kiss him, with their tongues fighting each other as she kept relentlessly bouncing on top of him.

She couldn't see herself with anyone else and she hated to realize it. He was like a magnetic force that kept pushing her closer and closer to him. He knew all her spots, her weaknesses, what drove her mad, what she enjoyed. It pained her to feel so attached to someone, Charles had become her temple and, she had built her walls around him that, went it all crumbled. She was left confused because she didn't know what was life without being by his side.

"I can't hold it anymore." she whimpered as her hands gripped intensely on his shoulder.

"Me neither, fuck." Just as those those words left his lips, in absolute synchrony, they came on each other, letting out loud moans while he slapped her bum once more. She collapsed on his chest while his arms wrapped her waist. All that could be heard in that moment were their heavy breathing while the exhaustion started kicking in.

Charles softly stroked her hair while his eyes focused on her. He was scared of what was in store for them, their future uncertain after everything that was said previously, however, if that was their last night together, he wanted to make sure his eyes pictured every inch of her just so he could engrave that moment forever in his mind.

"I’m afraid I’ll never love again, not like this." She said holding back her tears while her lips kissed his chest.

"We’ll never love the way we loved each other, that’s a fact." Charles replied staring at her, catching another glimpse of her eyes before falling asleep, knowing very well that was going to be the last time he’d ever have her that close to him.

#charles leclerc #f1 smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #formula one #f1 imagine

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dangerousconnoisseurdonut · 3 years

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Underwater Gotham Kingdom Idea

Gotham is an underwater kingdom where dwell a number of different type of merpeople live and work. There are five types of merpeople; octopi, shark, whale, dolphin, and manta. The last two are of a more ruling class, while the former three are seen as less. Still, that doesn’t stop those like shark James Gordon from joining the royal guard, or Orca Alfred Pennyworth from being brought on as a companion for a young noble, manta Bruce Wayne. Martha Wayne was a dolphin and, due to an accident involving the stingers on his tail, Martha died giving birth to him. Thomas has always blamed himself as Bruce inherited his own manta tail instead of his beloved Martha’s dolphin tail. As such, Thomas threw himself into his work, neglecting Bruce.

After countless companions, Alfred Pennyworth is more than a match for rambunctious twelve-year-old Bruce Wayne, especially when Bruce gets a young guard as further protection. Jim and Alfred become fast friends with each other and Bruce, and the pair teach him a lot of different tricks when it comes to fighting. One day, Bruce is swimming around, when he notices a large group of octopi, sharks, and whales swimming together; a little unusual, and he’s curious enough to follow them. When he gets there, he finds a number of octopi, sharks, and whales all gathered together with shark Theo Galavan talking about over throwing their government! He’s about to swim away when he sees something that takes the wind out of his sails and he feels his heart break; Alfred and Jim are there, and they reveal themselves to be spies meant to learn the weaknesses of the palace.

Before Bruce can swim away, he’s caught by a shark named Zsasz who presents him to the group. Galavan is ready to kill Bruce, except that Bruce uses the venom in his tail to hurt Galavan enough to get away. He dodges all of the sharks, octopi, and whales who try to grab him, and uses many of the tricks he learned from Alfred and Jim to make it back to Gotham, but he just wasn’t fast enough and Galavan’s forces start their attack. Galavan finds Bruce and goes to kill him, but Thomas gets in the way, protecting his son. Between Thomas’ more mature venom and and Galavan’s sharp teeth, the two manage to kill each other. Bruce is pulled from the fray by Captain of the Guards, Nathaniel Barnes who takes Bruce to the throne room in one last effort to keep Gotham from falling into the Rebellions hands entirely. He charges shark soldier Harvey Bullock and dolphin sorcerer Lucius Fox with protecting Bruce as Bruce holds the crown jewel of Gotham; a beautiful star sapphire referred to as the Heart of Gotham. The three make their way out of the city and to the one place the Rebels can’t follow; the surface world..

As the three break through the surface, Lucius casts an ancient spell to give them human legs, but is reminded that none of them have ever swam with human legs and have trouble keeping afloat. Thankfully, a family are out on the water and see them, rescuing them. They are Jonathan and Martha Kent, with their twelve-year-old son, Clark, who takes an immediate liking to Bruce.

Five years pass, and Smallville High doesn’t know what to make of the ‘honourary cousins’, Clark Kent and Bruce Fox; on one hand, both boys are handsome jocks that are on the football team, on the other, both boys are huge dorks. Soon, however, they get something new to focus on as a number of new people have moved to Smallville; a new clothing store opened by a Jervis Tetch, whose fashion styles are geared more towards children, and Oswald Cobblepot, who makes very sharp suits for men and women.

Then, there are three new students attending Smallville High; the Valeska twins, Jerome and Jeremiah, and a student said to be a chem genius, Jonathan Crane. To top it off, they get three substitute teachers as well; Victor Fries takes over the science course, Ben Mackenzie takes over as coach for the football team, and Sean Pertwee takes over their history course. At one of the home games, Harvey, Martha, and Lucius are all cheering for their boys (Jonathan having died from cancer two years ago) when Harvey sees Coach Mackenzie, and recognizes his old partner, even through the illusion spell he and ‘Sean’ are wearing. He informs the coach he wants to talk to him later, at the bar he tends at. Saying that he thinks the two have a lot to talk about.

Ben/Jim: Hi Harvey; Oswald was a little surprised you recognized me through Ed’s glamour spell.

Harvey: Ed was always good with magic, almost as good as Lucius was before he gave it up for technology. But you should have remembered that I always had a knack for seeing through spells.

Jim: Yeah, I guess we forgot that. You look good though; the surface world actually agrees with you.

Harvey: It’s not too bad up here; at least up here I don’t have to worry about being stabbed in the back by my own species.

Jim: Harvey...

Harvey: Tell me, how many women and children died that day? I know old Thomas managed to take Galavan down with him; Bruce had nightmares for over a year thanks to him. Tell me, was Galavan supposed to kill him too, or were you going to do that? Nice and quick?

Jim, eyes flashing black and teeth sharpening: Alfred and I would never harm Bruce; you know we loved and doted on him! And Thomas wasn’t supposed to get hurt, but Galavan was insane and hated the Wayne’s.

Harvey: Unless you want people to notice something not right, I’d suggest you calm down. And yeah, I remember just how much you two loved that kid, and can’t help but notice you and the others came here just after the kid turned seventeen; courting age.

Jim: You know he belongs in Gotham.

Harvey: No, here’s what I know; Bruce had no friends and no family apart from Thomas in Gotham, here he has friends, and he and Clark are practically brothers. Lucius likes it up here too; says that human tech is a lot more fun to work with than magic. And finally, me and Martha are happy, we...

Jim: Martha?

Harvey:Clark’s mother? She and her husband Jonathan taught us all about the surface world after they rescued us that day. But Jonathan died two years ago from Cancer, and I looked after her; the two of us have been going steady for almost six months. And it’s because of that I’m willing to offer you, your fellow consorts, and the King of Gotham a deal; we give you the Heart of Gotham and you let the three of us remain here on the surface world.

Jim:...

#Gotham #underwater au #bruce wayne #jim gordon #alfred pennyworth #oswald cobblepot #jerome valeska #jeremiah valeska #jervis tetch #jonathan crane #victor fries #smallville crossover #jonathan kent #martha kent #clark kent #lucius fox #harvey bullock

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

Note

could i possibly please prompt you for some grown up kiddies? like the girls and a-yu, what's their dynamic like when they're like teens? do they like to get into trouble a lot or follow all the rules strictly? it'd be interesting to see them on a nighthunt together, maybe. what do they do when they get into trouble, how do they solve problems together? i adore all your fics and your oc's, i'm in awe of you bro

Boys Over Flowers

by stiltonbasket

The worst day of Wei Shuilan’s life comes not long after her fourteenth birthday, when her A-Die hands her a packed lunch in a basket and tells it to take it to her elder brother in the produce field.

“Xiao-Yu sent a butterfly saying he couldn’t leave his moonflower sprouts,” A-Die says. “Go bring him his lunch, A-Lan, and then hurry back so your food doesn’t get cold.”

Looking back on it, that was the moment Wei Shuilan's world imploded.

(Or: nineteen-year-old Lan Xiaohui falls in love. His sisters try to cancel his romance subscription.)

All of those days were miserable in their own gloomy ways, but the worst day of Shuilan’s life comes not long after her fourteenth birthday, when her A-Die hands her a packed lunch in a basket and tells it to take it to her elder brother in the produce field.

“Xiao-Yu sent a butterfly saying he couldn’t leave his moonflower sprouts,” A-Die says—because Lan Yu is a shidao cultivator, and the medicinal herbs and crops he grows are so strong and wholesome that Uncle Xichen once swore that the dandelion tea from Yu-gege’s field could cure his reading headaches. “Go bring him his lunch, A-Lan, and then hurry back so your food doesn’t get cold.”

Shuilan nods and takes off at a run with the basket balanced on her elbow, dodging over rocks and clumps of grass until she gets to the produce field. She expects to find her brother kneeling in one of the flowerbeds, since his moonflowers have proved even more stubborn the enormous cactus he grew for burn paste, but the moonflower bed is decidedly free of muddy teenage boys with equally muddy forehead ribbons, and a squint around the field reveals that Yu-gege is standing near the lotus pond instead.

Yu-gege isn’t alone, though. There’s a young man hovering next to him, dressed in the colors of Qinghe Nie, and his face is so red that Wei Shuilan can see his ears turning scarlet all the way from the gate.

“I thought you might like these,” her brother’s strange companion seems to be mumbling, shoving a bunch of fire lilies in Lan Yu’s direction. “They, um. They still have the bulbs on, and the shop said they would put out new roots just a day after touching soil, so you can p-plant them.”

“Zhuyan!” she hears Lan Yu cry, obviously delighted. “How pretty! But—oh, no, my—will you dig out some holes for me over there, Zhuyan-xiong? I can’t leave my moonflowers seedlings for another hour, or I’ll have to start from scratch all over again.”

Wei Shuilan feels her blood run cold.

No. No, it can’t be.

“I can help you with them,” the other youth says shyly. “Can I?”

Not the moonflowers! Wei Shuilan wants to scream. Gege doesn’t even let me touch the moonflowers!

That’s because you keep trying to combine the modao with Xiao-Yu’s shidao cultivation and turning his radishes into demons, a voice that sounds a great deal like her Xiongzhang’s scolds in the back of her mind. Of course he doesn’t let you touch them!

“Do you mind waiting until they’re a little stronger?” Lan Yu replies, cheerily oblivious to his own younger sister coming to deliver his lunch. “They should be able to handle double spiritual signatures in a month, I think.”

Horrified into speechlessness, Shuilan throws the lunchbox at his head with a burst of spiritual energy and flees. Yu-gege doesn’t even blink, though, and neither does the stranger, and Yu-gege only looks up when the basket thumps gently to the ground at his feet.

“Oh!” he frowns. “Wait, that’s the basket A-Niang uses for my lunch. Was someone here?”

“I don’t think so,” the stranger says, with an adoring face like a dumb calf that nearly makes Shuilan sick on the spot. “I didn’t see anyone but you, A-Yu.”

Oh no, you don’t, Shuilan thinks, stomping back to the jingshi with clenched fists and helping her parents lay out the lunch dishes so angrily that they exchange a pair of startled glances over her head. I don’t care who this Zhuyan-xiong is, but I’m not going to let him take our Yu-gege away!

* * *

Wei Shuilan comes from a rather large family, which is rare among the Lan clan: and among the Weis, as far as she knows, because six generations’ worth of records at Lotus Pier show that her A-Die’s forefathers tended to have single children. Papa has only one brother, Uncle Xichen, and their father had a single didi, Great-uncle Qiren; but Wei Shuilan is the third child out of four, and her parents sometimes joke that they wouldn’t have minded another dozen.

Her eldest brother, Lan Sizhui (or Xiongzhang, to his siblings) is almost as old as A-Die is, due to A-Die’s sixteen-year stint as a dead man that began when Xiongzhang was a baby. By the time A-Die came back to life, Xiongzhang was almost eighteen, and then he and Papa adopted Yu-gege, who was only two years old when A-Die found him in a brothel in Yunping. Shuilan arrived three years later, after her parents were married, and her younger sister Chunyang was born just after Shuilan’s third birthday.

Shuilan and Chunyang are the closest in age, and the youngest of the four, which is why Shuilan makes a beeline to her sister’s desk after lunch to ask if A-Chun knows a young master from the Nie clan with the courtesy name Zhuyan.

“Of course I do,” Chunyang says, her warm sweet voice tinted with confusion as she looks up from her book of fu verses—a gift from Uncle Zizhen, who wrote most of the poems in collaboration with Nie-zongzhu. “He’s Nie Zhuxi-gongzi’s younger brother.”

“Really?” Shuilan frowns. Nie Zhuxi is something of a family friend, since he’s Nie-zongzhu’s heir, but he barely visits the Cloud Recesses because Father never even makes an effort to hide how much he dislikes him. “Oh. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Why did you ask about him?” A-Chun wonders. Shuilan fights the urge to poke at her chubby steamed-bun cheeks and then decides that she might as well just do it, because A-Chun is nearly eleven and her adorable round cheeks probably won’t last for much longer anyway. “Jiejie?”

“I saw him just now in A-Niang’s produce field,” she sulks. “He was giving Yu-gege flowers.”

“So what?” Chunyang’s bewilderment makes sense, she supposes, because everyone gives their brother plant-related gifts when they visit Gusu; he’s the most famous shidao cultivator within the four great sects, though most of his fame comes from that one time he ran into a dog yaoguai when he was seventeen and yelled for A-Die and Father to save him. “Nie-shushu always gives Gege flowers and seeds. And he couldn’t come this week for your birthday, so he must have sent the flowers along with Nie Zhuyan.”

“It’s different when it’s Nie-shushu,” Shuilan protests. “He sent A-Die a baby dress for you before you were even born! But this Nie Zhuyan, he blushed when he was giving flowers to Yu-gege, and his ears were red! Like Papa’s always are when he looks at A-Die!”

“Oh!” her sister gasps, shooting straight out of her chair and grabbing Shuilan’s hands. “You mean—you mean he was giving Yu-gege flowers as a courting gift?”

A-Chun’s eyes look like sparkling black stars, and Shuilan nearly groans out loud before pulling the little girl back down to earth with a bump. “A-Chun, that’s bad! He’s not allowed to court Yu-gege!” she hisses. “We don’t know a thing about who he is, or where he comes from, or—”

“But...but he’s Nie-shushu’s cousin,” A-Chun points out. “And we’ve visited Qinghe Nie hundreds of times. We know his older brother, too!”

Shuilan’s eyes go wide. “That’s right!” she cries, bringing her fist down on the table as A-Chun leaps two feet into the air. “We know Nie Zhuxi, and we can’t trust him!”

“Um...why can’t we, Jiejie?”

“Because Nie Zhuxi tried to steal A-Die from Father! Before A-Die and Father got married, they were staying at the Unclean Realm, and Nie Zhuxi kept on flirting with him! He came to A-Die’s room after dark, and he made A-Die wear his clothes, and—”

The door slides open.

“Nie Zhuxi?” their father’s voice croaks, right before they turn around to find him standing in the doorway with a frozen kind of look on his face. “A-Lan. Has Nie Zhuxi been here?”

Chunyang pouts and crosses her arms. “Papa, it’s time you made up with Nie-gongzi! You know Uncle Huaisang was just bribing him to flirt with A-Die so it would make you jealous!”

“I do not like him,” their father says snootily. “He demanded the clothes off your A-Niang’s back, and then he had the nerve to laugh when Wei Ying took them off and returned them to him.”

“That’s why we have a problem, Papa!” Shuilan cries. “His brother is trying to court our Yu-gege!”

Their father’s lips turn white. “What?”

“I saw him! He showed up with flowers for Gege, and he kept blushing—and Papa, Gege was staring at him so much that he didn’t notice I was there! I came to give him his lunch basket, and he didn’t even look at me!”

“Courting,” Father says, in a strangled voice that makes Shuilan’s own throat ache. “Not—not possible. Xiaohui is only nineteen.”

“He’s of age,” Chunyang pipes up, apparently under the impression that someone courting Lan Yu is a good thing instead of the worst crisis their family has ever had to endure. “And if they’re courting now, they’ll probably court at least a year, right? Gege will be twenty by then, Papa. Don’t worry.”

“I must speak with Wei Ying,” Father mutters, before absconding in a whirl of white satin robes and the flash of a silver hairpiece. “Courting my son, without leave! As if I would ever let such a thing happen!”

And then he disappears, leaving his daughters blinking in a sudden draft behind him. He’s probably going to find A-Niang in the jishi, which means that A-Niang is going to be responsible for telling Nie Zhuyan to stay away from Yu-gege.

(For a moment, Wei Shuilan almost feels sorry for her brother’s would-be suitor, for having his dreams crushed the moment he worked up the courage to give Lan Yu a courting gift.

Only almost, though.)

* * *

“So, Xiao-Yu!” A-Die says at dinner that night, as cheerful as ever as he fills Yu-gege’s bowl with hot rice and makes sure he gets plenty of vegetables from the dish in the middle of the table. “What’s this I hear about you going courting? Did you really grow up so much when I wasn’t looking, baobei?”

“Courting?” Lan Yu asks, around a mouthful of stew beef and potatoes. “Who’s going courting?”

“You, you silly cabbage. Aiyah, A-Yu, why didn’t you tell us? I’ve been looking forward to seeing you get married for so long, baobao, honestly—”

“I’m...I’m not courting anyone, though,” Gege replies, looking like a stunned rabbit for a minute before shaking his head and serving himself a helping of beans. “I’m too young, A-Niang! I just want to cultivate my plants and help you take care of A-Lan and A-Chun. And I don’t even like anyone, either.”

“You need not fear to tell us if you grow to care for someone, Xiaohui,” Father says anxiously. Shuilan can’t work out whether he’s still upset or not, because that sounded like he was upset at the thought of Lan Yu courting someone in secret rather than by the fact that he was courting at all. “We are your parents, and it is our privilege to guide you through all aspects of your life, including this.”

“Um. Thank you?” Lan Yu offers, clearly bewildered by the worry in Father’s eyes. “I really don’t want to court anyone, though. And I promise to tell you if I ever do, Papa.”

“Then what about Nie Zhuyan?” Shuilan wails, bursting into tears. “He gave you flowers! I saw him! And you were looking at him like he was the only one left in the world, and—”

Unexpectedly, her brother throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, my poor little A-Lan!” he coos, putting down his chopsticks and coming around to her side of the table to hug her. “Oh, no! I’m not courting Zhuyan-xiong. Those flowers were from Uncle Nie, not him, and—don’t cry, Lan-bao! Nie Zhuyan is the last person on earth I would ever think of marrying, you know. And besides, he already has someone he likes! He told me so.”

“Really?” Chunyang asks, looking so disappointed that A-Die passes her a dish of sweet bean porridge. “Who is it?”

“Oh, it’s Mianmian. You remember Auntie Qingyang’s daughter, right? She’s just a little older than Zhuyan-xiong, and he’s been making eyes at her for years. You know, I baked some of A-Niang’s lotus cakes for her once when we went to visit Ling-gege, and Zhuyan was so upset when he heard! He cried, actually, and he didn’t stop until I promised that I didn’t like her that way.”

A-Die’s face turns purple, and he almost chokes on a bit of meat before burying his head in his hands and laughing until he cries. Next to him, Father’s face goes oddly still, and stays that way until A-Die drags himself upright again with tears of mirth running down his cheeks.

“He likes Mianmian?” he gasps, bursting into another fit of giggles. “Oh. Oh, so it’s like that.”

“What does that mean?” Chunyang inquires, as Father puts his chopsticks down and closes his eyes. “Like what? Papa?”

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” A-Die snorts. “Here, A-Yu, have some more of the lotus pudding.”

And after that, for some reason far beyond Wei Shuilan’s fourteen-year-old comprehension, the subject of Nie Zhuyan courting her brother is never brought up again.

* * *

“Oh, that poor boy,” Shuilan hears her A-Die cackle later that night, while she and Chunyang are brushing their teeth in the bathroom. “Oh, that poor boy! Lan Zhan, he’s just like me!”

“I am aware,” Father says wearily, followed by the creaking sound of her parents climbing into bed. “I do not doubt that Xiao-Yu will remain blind to Nie Zhuyan’s love for the next several years.”

A beat of silence, then. “Lan Zhan,” A-Die whispers, “you—I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should never have made you wait for me for so long. Sometimes I think of how I love you now, and how much it would hurt me to lose you, or believe that you didn’t love me back, and…”

“I would have been the happiest man in the world even if you rejected me,” Father whispers back. “As long as you were happy, and healthy, and safe. I would you rather hate me, torture me a thousand ways, than injure a single hair upon your precious head—Wei Ying, you were gone, and then you returned to life when I spent the last sixteen years cursing myself for letting you go. What more could I ever have asked of you, my love?”

“I made you wait for me a whole year after I came back, darling. You can’t tell me that wasn’t torture to bear, Lan Zhan, because I won’t believe you.”

“Xingan,” their father chides, before the sound of a kiss makes A-Lan giggle so much that her toothbrush falls out of her mouth. “I had my beloved sleeping in my arms, with our son sleeping between us, and you think I was unhappy?”

“Well, when you say it like that…”

“That was the happiest year of my life, A-Ying. And then I married you, and the next year was the happiest. And then we celebrated our first anniversary, and the next year was happier still.”

“Does that mean that today was the happiest day of your life, then?”

“No,” Father says decidedly. “It was yesterday. Before I heard about Nie Zhuyan.”

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan. Our little ones have to grow up someday, you know. A-Yuan might not ever marry, but A-Yu and A-Lan and Chun-bao are going to fall in love, and have people fall in love with them, and they might even get their hearts broken, but—”

“Never! Never, not while I draw breath. I have had my heart broken into pieces, and I would rather die than see our children suffer so. If that means I must pass a decree forbidding that boy to enter the Cloud Recesses, then it shall be done.”

The conversation doesn’t end there, but A-Chun’s eyes are slipping closed, and Shuilan doesn’t want to hear any more kissing, so the two of them go back to their room and jump into their beds.

“Jiejie?” Chunyang asks, after Shuilan puts out the lights and drags her pillow up over her head. “Do you want to fall in love? Someday, when you’re older?”

Wei Shuilan shakes her head. “No. I hate boys. The only one who even wants to talk to me is Lan Fang, and all he ever wants to talk about is how demonic cultivation corrupts the body and wounds the soul.”

“But it doesn’t corrupt A-Niang’s body and soul, does it?”

“He doesn’t mean A-Niang,” she sniffs. “He means me. Lan Fang thinks he knows better just because he’s a boy, and I hate him.”

“Oh,” A-Chun nods. “Jiejie, I think I want to fall in love.”

“Then Jiejie will support you! Do you like anyone, Chun-bao?”

“Not yet. But someday!”

And then Chunyang closes her eyes and falls asleep, leaving Wei Shuilan to her own muddled thoughts until she falls asleep, too.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #my fic #@anyone who reblogs this i will love u forever and also cry #please ;-;#lan xiaohui #rip anyone who likes this boy he is a FOOL #wei shuilan #wei chunyang

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Note

hey, once in twitter we talk about how much we love Castle, so i was thinking if you could write a rowaelin scene based on caskett ♥️

OI GIO!!!!!! Ok so I had so much fun writing this. I decided to start from the very beginning so everyone (even those who didn’t watch it) know what’s going on. If you never watched Castle, you MUST!!! Also, fyi, the warnings are NOT about Ro or Aelin, they are absolutely fine in here. No sad shit, I promise

Warnings: mentions of graphic death

Gone death

Aelin winked at the red headed man in front of her, a grin plastered on her lips.

She handed him back the book, waving off his thank you as he scrunched away to enjoy the rest of the party. She looked around, half paying attention to the hundreds of people who had come to the release of her latest book.

Since Aelin was a seven, she had had a deep fascination with mystery and horror. Thankfully, she was also a fucking amazing writer, which allowed her to transform that fascination into her job. Now, twenty six years later, Aelin was the bestseller author of several stand alone as well as a series of eight books, all of them following the same two main characters while they investigated a series of gruesome murders. She had loved the series, had started writing them at fifteen and published the first one at twenty five. She thought she could write about Sam and Lyria forever.

Until she realized she couldn’t.

Aelin felt a hand gripping her elbow, and had to hold in her sigh as she turned around to stare at her ex husband.

One of Aelin’s biggest regrets in life was marrying so early. Chaol had been her college boyfriend, and they got married few months after they started dating. Looking back now, Aelin could see how stupid she had been, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. They got a divorce less than a year later, and Aelin would have been happy in never looking at him again. Unfortunately, he worked with her publishing team, and if she added that to their past together, she could almost understand why Chaol always felt so entitled to know and control everything in her life.

It was fucking distressing and annoying.

“If it’s not my money sucking ex husband. What did I do this time?”

He had a fake smile on his lips, looking at her as if he didn’t dislike her. “You killed your golden goose, Galathynius. You fucking killed your main characters.”

Aelin shrugged, taking a sip of her white wine. “It was time.” She started walking away, and had to hide her scowl when she realized Chaol was following her.

Some people couldn’t get the fucking hint, could they?

“Why would you do that? Sam and Lyria were making you filthy rich, and everyone loved them.”

“They got boring, that’s why.” Aelin stopped in her tracks, turning back to Chaol. She crossed her arms, raising her chin. “Writing The Guild used to be fun, used to be exciting. Writing Sam used to be interesting, but since the seventh book it has just been work. I don’t write for money, Chaol. I write because I love it. When I stopped loving it, I decided it was time to move on from them.”

“Wow, and God forbid you ever have to actually work like an adult, right?”

“It. Was. Time. Besides, Sam and Lyria are not the golden goose, I am.”

She said the words loud and clear, ignoring the frown on his face. Aelin always knew that Chaol saw her writing more as a job than as a passion, and it pissed her off endlessly. She turned around again, walking to the bar where her cousin and son were sitting. Her heels clinked against the marble floor, and the sound was almost loud enough to hide the fact that Chaol was following her. Again.

She sighed loudly as he began speaking. “You could have made them retire, could have made them get married and leave the force. Hell, you could have made them join the goddamn circus. But no, Aelin Galathynius must be dramatic and put two bullets on her main characters’ heads.” When she ignored him, he just kept talking. “What the hell are you going to do now, Aelin? You permanently ended The Guild with your stupidity, and we both know you don’t have any other ideas.”

At that, Aelin spun on her heels, clenching her fists to stop herself from physically attacking Chaol. The photographers would love seeing her getting into a brawl, and most of the rest of the party would probably find it immensely entertaining. Lysandra, however, wouldn’t find it so amusing. Her PR and best friend loved some mischief, but she also worked hard enough to make sure Aelin’s public image was a good one, so Aelin wouldn’t mess that up by fighting her ex.

“Who says that?”

Chaol snorted. “The nine week delay to publish the eighth book should be indication enough.”

“Can’t rush talent.” Aelin said, a nasty smile on her lips.

“I won’t say you’re not talented, Aelin, but you are out of ideas. You weren’t bored, you had a writer’s block and freaked out.” Chaol said, oblivious to Aelin’s rising temper. He looked at her, giving an infuriating shrug. “You have a month to hand me the new idea. A full and useable idea. The first manuscript, preferably. You’re famous, write any shit and people will eat it up.”

“Fuck off.” Aelin said through clenched teeth.

Chaol merely smiled as he walked away. “A month, Aelin.”

Aelin wanted to go after him and smack his face against one of the piles of books in the room. Fortunately for him, Aelin was stopped by several people who wanted her autograph in the newest and last book of The Guild. It probably took her an hour to get through everyone— talking and giving every single person her full attention— until she finally managed to make her way to the bar.

She spotted Aedion’s head first, his broad figure standing up against the bar and talking to a pitch-black haired boy, Nino, sitting down near him.

“Who does homework at a party?” She heard Aedion asking.

“I have a test next week.”

“So do I. It’s called dealing with your mom while she contemplates hitting her head against a wall to force an idea to come out.”

Nino laughed, looking at his uncle. “She’ll come up with something, she always does.”

Aelin smiled at her son, his words warming her. She had had Nino extremely young— had only been seventeen at the time— and he became her friend along with being her son. She approached her cousin from behind, listening to him ask for a glass of champagne.

“Make that two, please.” Aelin said and Aedion’s eyes immediately snapped to her as she approached the boy sitting down and passed an arm through his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, mom.”

Aedion grinned, raising his glass and gesturing around. “Built yourself an empire, Aeae.”

Aelin smiled in return, winking at her cousin. “Always said I would. But tell me, Aedion…”

“Uh-oh.” The boy Aelin was half hugging said, a humorous smirk on his face. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“Cut it, genius.” Aedion snapped, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “What’s up, Ae?”

“Did you tell Chaol I was having trouble writing?” Aelin smiled sweetly, even though she wanted to strangle her cousin right now. The look on his face was enough to give her the answer.

“I told him nothing of the sort.” Aedion replied quickly, defending himself. Aelin only raised an eyebrow at him. “Ok, I— I might have let slip that for the past nine weeks you have been walking around the apartment with either a cup of coffee or a bottle of wine while you curse the Gods for lack of creativity.”

“I am going to kill you.” Aelin said, a smile still plastered on her face as she noticed some cameras pointed at her. It was always like this whenever she went out with Nino.

“Ae, that’s ok. You’re an artist, that sort of thing is expected.”

“I can’t believe it, Aedion! The deal for you to live with us was plain and simple.”

“No meddling on her work.” Nino reminded Aedion, the boy looking immensely pleased at his uncle’s doom. “And no Chaol.”

“You know how things are with Chaol. No. Talking. About. My. Work.“ Aelin said, temper rising once more.

“What is there to talk about anyways?”

“Uncle!” Nino said exasperatedly.

“Whatever there is or isn’t to talk about,” Aelin was saying, jaw clenched. “I would appreciate if you didn’t share it with my ex husband.”

“Oh, I think I hear Lysandra calling me.” Aedion interrupted, absolutely ignoring Aelin. She narrowed her eyes, knowing damn well that Lysandra would never be calling Aedion judging by the brunette’s deep dislike of her best friend’s cousin. Aelin tried to stop him, but he just started walking away faster, shouting that they could talk at home.

It was just a fancy way of saying they wouldn’t discuss at all.

She turned around, looking at Nino. He had a smirk on his face as he looked down his physics book, a pen on his left hand.

“You should have stopped me.” Aelin grumbled.

“Letting uncle Aed move in?” Nino asked, looking up at his mom. “Nah, I think it’s sweet. Besides, I like him.”

Aelin only grumbled more, taking the two glasses the barista had put in front of her. She smiled in thanks, holding one of the glasses and placing the other in front of Nino. He smiled humorously, raising an eyebrow. “You know I’m only sixteen, right?”

“You’re an old soul.”

“Well me and my old soul can wait until I’m twenty-one.”

Aelin smiled at her son, all anger and tightness leaving her body. Nino had always been her steadying rock, since he was a baby his presence had always been enough to calm her down. Differently from her, however, Nino was extremely serious and responsible, always following the rules, studying and making sure everything was right.

Most times Aelin found it immensely funny to see how different from her he had turned out.

“When I was your age—“ She was saying, a grin on her face. She immediately stopped, frowning. “Can’t tell you that story. Too inappropriate for your innocent ears.”

Nino snickered, pushing the champagne glass away.

“Don’t laugh, boy, this is exactly my point. Don’t you want to have wild, law-breaking, inappropriate stories that you can’t tell your kids one day?” She rested her elbows at the counter, a smile on her lips.

“You’ve lived enough of those for both of us now, mom.”

Aelin snorted, taking a sip of her champagne. “You’re studying physics at a party. At your age I would have been drinking.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You were pregnant.” Nino said slowly, a winning smirk at his face.

“Damn it.” Aelin muttered, earning a laugh from Nino. Despite her crazy stories, Nino knew very well how responsible she had been during her pregnancy with him. Nino, since before birth, had been the one thing capable of making her act like a serious adult. “You want to know why I killed Sam and Lyria?”

Nino raised his brows at the change in the topic, but nodded just the same.

“Because life should be an adventure, sweetheart. It should be full of unexpected turns and plot twists. It should be full of funny stories, embarrassing stories, inappropriate stories.” Her smile became soft, and she grabbed one of his hands. “I had to kill them because it wasn’t an adventure anymore, it wasn’t surprising. I knew exactly where they would always go, what they would always do. If my own characters weren’t surprising me, how could I hope they would surprise anyone else?”

“Mom…”

“I’m not telling you to be like I was when I was younger, it’s definitely not your type. I just want to make sure that you know you can make mistakes every now and then. That I don’t expect you to be like me, but I also don’t expect you to be perfect.”

He matched her soft smile, squeezing her hand slightly. “I know, mom.”

“Good.” She straightened, taking her champagne glass and looking around. “You know what else is boring? These parties. After having sixteen of these, the seventeenth seems rather dull.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, people praising you seems awfully boring, mom.”

Aelin grinned, resting her hips against the counter as she turned fully to him. “It’s always the same thing. ‘Oh my god, I’m such a big fan’, or maybe the ‘Where’d you get your ideas?’.

“Let’s not forget the fully adult men asking you to sign their chest.” Nino’s face crumbled in disgust.

Aelin laughed out loud, drinking from her glass. “I don’t mind that one very much.”

“Well, I do, if you’re interested in knowing.”

She snorted, putting the now empty glass down. “I don’t know, Nino. I just wanted for someone to surprise me once. I want something new to give me inspiration, to be my new muse. For the past eight years I have been hearing the same thing over and over again. I just want someone to catch me by surprise, to say something so shocking I won’t have a reaction, so surprising that I will—“

“Ms. Galathynius.” She was interrupted by a brisk tap on her shoulder. Nino raised his eyebrows at the person standing behind her, trying to get her attention in such impolite manner.

She forced a polite smile on her face, taking a pen from her bra. She turned around, raising the pen. “Where do I sign?”

A broad shouldered man was now standing in front of her, and even in heels Aelin had to tip her head back to stare at him. His arms her hanging by his side, his clothes extremely casual for him to be part of the party. His white button down and leather jacket hugged his arms and torso, and if his face wasn’t so enthralling, Aelin would probably have had a hard time not staring at the rest of him.

His features looked somewhat tense. His hair— probably blond, but looked so light that it could only be described as silver— a mess, almost as if he had ran his hands too many times through it. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and his pine green eyes were stuck on her face with such intensity that Aelin felt her face heating.

“Detective Whitethorn, OPD.” He said, voice grave and words rolling out of his tongue with a lovely Scottish accent. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight.”

Aelin registered his words, but didn’t have any reaction. She just stared at the man, her eyes looking quickly at the Orynth Police Department badge he was holding.

Nino laughed quietly, reaching over his mom to take the pen out of her hand. “Well, this is new.”

Only then she turned slightly to her son, a scowl at her face. “No shit, Sherlock.”

—-----

Aelin had always written about this, but she never thought that she would herself be like one of the characters from her story.

Honestly, she wasn’t nervous at all, just curious.

Hundreds of people had seen her all afternoon and night at the party, and she knew that she hadn’t killed anybody, so fear was off the table. Now, why the police thought she had any knowledge about the crime at all was what made her so damn curious.

Upon arriving at the precinct, detective Whitethorn had left her at the care of two identical men. Both had the exact same face, but where one seemed to radiate light, the other one seemed to suck it. As they took her to wait in the interrogation room, she thought that they would make great main characters.

“Whitethorn will be back shortly, ma’am.” The serious twin said, walking out of the room as she sat down. The other twin, however, lingered.

He was staring at her, his head cocked to the side just like a wolf seizing his prey. Aelin stared right back, raising one eyebrow at him. Despite knowing she hadn’t killed anybody, something inside of her was tensing at his staring. Did they think that her involvement with the murder was more serious than she had initially thought?

“You killed your main characters.” He said, and the air rushed out of Aelin’s lungs. She scowled, suddenly pissed that he had made her so tense and it was actually just about a goddamn book.

“Yep. Bullet right through the head.” She made a finger gun and put it against her forehead. “Disappointed?”

He shrugged, resting against the threshold. “It was brilliant, but I adored Sam and Lyria. After eight years following the series, seeing your favorite characters being killed makes you want to kill the author.”

Aelin smiled when he winked at her. “Pardon. If it makes you feel better, I have already been scolded by my ex husband. Said it would have been better if I had just made Sam and Lyria join the circus.”

“Sam would have been a shit clown.”

Aelin nodded. “You’re right. Should have told that to my ex.”

The detective laughed, but was immediately interrupted when Whitethorn’s voice sounded from behind him. “Fenrys.”

“Sorry, Rowan.” Fenrys grimaced exaggeratedly, and Aelin grinned. “See you later, blondie.”

Aelin just nodded, her eyes immediately on Whitethorn when his figure approached the door.

“Ms. Galathynius.”

“Detective Whitethorn.” She eyed the manila folders he was holding. Some papers and photos were sticking out, but Aelin couldn’t really tell what they were.

He sat in front of her after closing the door, opening one of the folders. His eyebrows rose as he read, and he eyed Aelin quickly before sighing and putting the open folder at the table. “You have quite the history with the law for a best selling author, Ms. Galathynius. Public disturbance, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest…”

Aelin shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “Living all your adventures through paper seem a little too nerdish for me.”

Detective Whitethorn rested his forearms on the table, inclining himself forward. Aelin did the same, and his eyes narrowed at her.

“You stole a police horse once.”

“Borrowed.” Her smile widened. Detective Whitethorn, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find it funny in the slightest.

“And you were,” he looked down at the folder before looking at her again. “Nude.”

Aelin shrugged once more. “It was springtime.”

“And every time the charges were dropped.” He drew back, resting against his chair. “Care to explain?”

“The mayor enjoys reading The Guild.” Aelin sighed dramatically, propping on her elbows and resting her face against her hand. “You know how people love to bond over mutual interests. And he loves my son, there’s that too. But that’s besides the point.”

“Oh, is it?” For the first time, the detective seemed entertained.

“Yes. I don’t think you’re here to talk about my college prank of a decade ago, detective.” She half smiled. “So why don’t you make your murder questions so I can go home and convince my son to stop studying so his eyes won’t fall out?”

“Ms. Galathynius.” He said, smirking at her. Aelin didn’t think it was a good smirk, though. “I fully believe that the cocky, irreverent, hot girl slash genius act makes people eat out of the palm of your hand in your glamorous world, but I work for a living, so why don’t you cut the bullshit because in my world, you can be only two things.”

“You think I’m hot, detective?”

Whitethorn’s smirk didn’t waver. “You can be the person who makes my life easier and goes home quickly, or the person who makes my life harder and stays handcuffed here until you decide to be the first option.”

“I could make so many inappropriate jokes right now, you have no idea.” Aelin said, and she could swear his smirk turned more playful. She smirked back, crossing her arms. “I supposed I shouldn’t want to be the one making your life harder.”

He didn’t answer, just let go of the manila folder containing her information and opened the other one. He took out the picture of a brunette woman. Dark hair, brown skin and big black eyes, the girl couldn’t be older than twenty five.

Aelin grabbed the picture, analyzing it. “Hum, pretty.”

“And dead.”

“Gods, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

He didn’t reply, just took another picture out. This time it was a man, probably at the same age, but instead of bright and soft features the girl possessed, his skin was pale and blue eyes glassy.

“Recognize them?”

Aelin shook her head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She sighed, letting go of the pictures. “I’ve been to dozens of signings, events and parties, detective Whitethorn. I can’t possibly recall every face.”

“Not what I meant. Do you recognize their features?” He asked, tapping the pictures.

Aelin looked back down once more, looking at those faces until something hit her fully. “Sam and Lyria. They look like my characters Sam and Lyria.”

Detective Whitethorn seemed satisfied with her answer, because he took other two pictures and placed in front of her. One of them showed the girl, her body dressed in a series of white cloths, wild flowers surrounding her whole body. Where her eyes should be, two big daisies laid, and looking more carefully, Aelin could also see daisies stuffed in her mouth and nostrils.

The other picture showed the boy, his body laying inside a casket, instead of white cloths hugging his body, his were blood red. The floor around the casket showed a series of markings drawn in white chalk.

“Holy fuck.” She breathed.

Detective Whitethorn was eyeing her carefully. “Her name was Mandy, his was Felix. He was found dead two weeks ago, but we only made the connection after we found her today. The deaths look exactly like the ones described in chapter six and twenty two of your book Gone Death.”

“A fan?” Aelin asked, a humorous smile on her lips.

“Yes, a really deranged fan.”

“Oh, you don’t seem deranged.”

He looked up from the pictures, frowning. “I’m sorry?”

“Detective Whitethorn, I am a best selling author and yet I can count on my fingers the amount of people who even know that Gone Death exists.” She smiled when he rolled his eyes. “It’s ok, I always thought it was a terribly underrated book. Only hardcore groupies ever read that one, though.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you enjoy constantly praising yourself, ma’am?”

“Oh, you have no idea, sir.”

He snorted, crossing his arms. “Does any of these groupies ever write you fan mail?” She just stared at him blankly. “Disturbing ones.”

Aelin shuddered, and this time it wasn’t for show. “Oh, try being a murder mystery writer. Every fan mail I receive is disturbing. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“It’s because sometimes, in cases like this, we find that—“

“The killer attempts to contact the image of his obsession, yes.” Aelin completed his sentence, earning a questioning look back.

She looked back at him, and curiosity beyond this case sparkled inside of her. She could feel an idea brewing, and the more he talked, the more interesting he got.

“I write murders for a living. I’m well versed in psychopathic methodologies and the process of murder. Another occupational hazard, I guess.” She inclined herself forward. “And has anyone ever said you have pretty eyes?”

He stared at her, mouth open as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. He finally rolled his eyes, pulling the pictures back to him. “And so I assume you won’t have any problems with us going over you mail, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Be my guest. I have thrown some out, however.” When he looked at her, she just shrugged. “My son lives in that house, detective. And as much as I’m not a strict mom in the slightest, there are things I will not allow my son to be near. Middle aged man sending naked pictures and blood vials is one example.”

He nodded, getting up. Aelin looked up at him, jerking her chin in the direction of the manila folders.

“Can I get a copy of that?”

“A copy?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Yeah. I have poker night with other best selling authors and you have no idea how jealous this would make them.”

He hesitated for a moment before slowly asking. “Jealous?”

“In my world, detective, having a copycat is like wining the fucking Nobel.” She said, half surprised at the complete incredulity on his face. “So?”

He threw the folders at the table, placing his hands down and bringing his face inches away from hers. “People are dying, Ms. Galathynius.”

“I’m not asking for the bodies.”

He rolled his eyes, drawing back. He took the folders from the table, walking to the door. “I think we’re done here.”

Aelin stared at his back, seeing him leave the room. Once he was out of sight, she took her phone out, looking through her contacts until she found the one.

“Good night, Rolfe.” She greeted the current mayor of Orynth. “You have a direct say in the OPD business, don’t you? Because as you know, The Guild just ended but…”

Aelin looked at the door once more, and even though he wasn’t there, she smiled.

“…but I think I just found my new inspiration for a new series.”

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @yesdreamblog @multifandommessblog @heirofthenightcourt

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myhauntedsalem · 3 years

Text

23 Parents Describe Their Kids’ Creepy Imaginary Friends

1. He doesn’t have a face

“My son from the age of three always tells me about the ‘creeper man’ who lives in my mom and dad’s bedroom. He brings it up after he visits them. I made the mistake once of asking what he looks like. My son said ‘Oh, he doesn’t have a face.’”

2. “You’ll get used to killing”

“A parent of one of my students told us in a meeting that she was concerned because her son (7 years old) talked about an invisible ghost who would talk to him and play with him in his room. He said the ghost was called The Captain and was an old white guy with a beard. The kid would tell his mom that The Captain told him when he grows up his job will be to kill people, and The Captain would tell him who needed to be killed. The kid would cry and say he doesn’t want to kill when he grows up, but The Captain tells him he doesn’t have a choice and he’ll get used to killing after a while.”

3. Little girl ghost

“When my daughter was three she had an imaginary friend named Kelly who lived in her closet. Kelly sat in a little rocking chair while she slept, played with her, etc. Typical imaginary friend shit. Anyway, fast forward two years later, the wife and I are watching the new Amityville Horror (the one with Ryan Renolds) and our daughter walks out right when the dead girl goes all black eyed. Far from being disturbed she said ‘That looks like Kelly.’ ‘Kelly who?’ we say. ‘You know the dead girl that lived in my closet.’”

4. Bad rabbit

“My cousin, when she was 5, and I was 17, had a stuffed rabbit that she talked to and carried everywhere. One day she was asleep on the couch while I was watching her, and she woke up and started yelling at her rabbit for no reason. One minute she was knocked out, the next, she’s awake, glaring at her rabbit, yelling, ‘No! You can’t do that! That’s bad! Don’t do it!’ I asked her what was wrong, tried to get her to stop, but she wouldn’t listen. I finally just took the rabbit up to her room, and when I came back down she was asleep on the couch again. Fuck whatever that rabbit was planning on doing.”

5. Roger won’t be around anymore…

“My little brother’s imaginary friend, Roger, lived under our coffee table. Roger had a wife and nine kids. Roger and his family lived peacefully alongside us for three years. One day, my little brother announced that Roger wouldn’t be around anymore, since he shot and killed him and his whole family. I don’t know if he remembers any of this, but his genuine lack of remorse was very disturbing.”

6. A boy in the tree

“My folks’ farm surrounds a cemetery, and my dad and my niece were walking down there. My niece (4) looks up and says, ‘What’s that boy doing up in that tree?’ There was no boy, but she insisted there was and could describe him.”

7. The bunny man

“When I was 16, I babysat twins who were in the third grade at the time. They always spoke of a man in an Easter Bunny costume, and they were terrified of him. One day I was babysitting, and one twin was in the shower. His brother and I were sitting downstairs watching television when all of the sudden, he said, ‘You need to go check on Matt.’ Seconds later, Matt yelled, ‘He’s in here!!! He’s in here!!!’ I ran upstairs, and I had to check every room before he would calm down. I’m not sure which part of the experience freaked me out the most.”

8. Poor Shaggy

When my mom was younger she had an imaginary friend named Shaggy. When she was finished with Shaggy, she ‘chopped him up and put him in the fridge.’”

9. “Smash Daddy’s head”

“When my brother was just learning how to talk he grabbed one of those small toy hammers and crawled onto the sofa where my dad was sleeping. He then leant in close and whispered one of his first sentences… ‘Smash daddy’s head’ right into his ear.”

10. Dark angels

When my brother was little he acted like he had angels talking to him every second. One day my mom overheard him say, ‘I can’t kill him! He’s my only dad!’”

11. “That’s the man”

“My daughter used to tell me about a man who came into her room every night and put the sign of the cross on her forehead. I thought it was just a dream. Then my mother-in-law sent over some family photos. My daughter looked right at the picture of my husband’s father (who has been dead for 16 years) and said ‘That’s the man who comes into my room at night!’ My husband later told me his father would always do the sign of the cross on his forehead when he was young.”

12. Message from beyond

“My wife and I overheard my two-year-old daughter on the baby monitor wake up on Saturday morning and say, ‘What? OK I’ll tell her.’ She then got up, came into our bedroom, and told my wife, ‘Mary says you’re doing a good job.’ Mary was her grandmother that she was extremely close to that passed away.”

13. I called him Spooky Guy

“As a kid, I said that my imaginary friend was a ghost. I called him Spooky Guy and said he died in the garage of the house on the hill behind ours. I even came up with his death. He was a 16 year old who got in a car crash and walked to that house to ask to use their phone (died in the 70’s). The person lived there grabbed him and sexually abused him there and killed him. He was my imaginary friend as far back as I can remember. This scared my mom so much that she tried to look up records to see if that happened and got me a therapist.”

14. Icy wants me to tell you it will be tonight

“In high school one of my best friends had a little sister who was five or six years old. One day we stopped by his place, completely high, because he needed to get his Magic cards. While waiting for him to come downstairs his sister came up to me and said, ‘Icy told me to ask you if you know when you’re going to die.’”

I laughed nervously: morbid question, right? But I knew all about Icy, her imaginary friend. I even helped her draw a picture of him once. So I played along and said, ‘No, of course not! No one knows that. Hopefully when I’m very old.’

The girl shook her head sadly and said, ‘No, Icy wants me to tell you it’ll be tonight.’ And with that, she just walked away.”

15. It is the punishment

“I was seventeen and babysitting a friend of the family’s six-year-old boy. He’d been in bed a couple of hours and I just peeked in to check on him. He wasn’t in the bed and when I opened the door, I saw he was standing in the corner, facing the wall. creepiest fucking thing ever. I asked him what he was doing and all he did was turn around, smile, and put his finger to his lips as if to say ‘shhh.’ I asked him again what he was doing and all he says is, ‘Leave us. It is the punishment.’”

16. Keep kicking

“My grandfather had a camp on Lake Dering in New Hampshire when I was a kid. One day when I was 6 or so, I fell off of the dock and into the water. I couldn’t swim. While under, I distinctly remember seeing a little girl down there who told me to look up towards the sun and just keep kicking and I’d be fine. I swam to the surface just in time for my grandfather to swoop me up and pull me back on the dock.”

17. Nope

“When my boy was 4, his imaginary friend would sit in the corner of the room when you switched off the lights and light the room with red glowing eyes.”

18. They were both dead

“Kid I used to babysit had imaginary friends. They were dead. One had no head. One was an old lady. They were both bloody. The one with no head had insides sticking out of his neck.

I didn’t ask him questions about them because fuck that.”

19. Tracy

“When my niece was about 4 she had an imaginary friend, which I don’t remember the name of. She would blame things she did on this imaginary friend but also talked about how this friend would watch Scooby Doo with her. One day I thought, ‘Why don’t I find out more about this friend?’ So I asked her to tell me about her friend. And she said, ‘She’s a she and she’s dead.’ And I said, ‘Does she have a job?’ And she said, ‘She does what my daddy does!’ Which is that her imaginary friend was a cop. So then I said, ‘Where is your imaginary friend a police woman at?’ And she said, ‘Right next I to where my daddy is a policeman.’ But then she said, ‘I met her when I was in my mummy’s belly. She touched it when I was inside.’

A few months before my niece was born my cousin Tracy had died. She was hit by a train. She loved watching Scooby Doo and had a ton of memorabilia. She was also a cop. She was a cop in the town that is right next to the one my brother-in-law is a cop in, my niece’s ‘daddy.’ My niece’s imaginary friend was my dead cousin. There is no other way she could have known all that at the age of 4.”

20. “That’s why I don’t like water now”

“When my kid was 4, we were watching a documentary on the Titanic. The scene was a picture of the schematics of the boiler room and the camera panned from left to right over the plans. He pointed at the TV and said, ‘That’s wrong. The boilers were on the other side. And I was right here.’ And he pointed to a small space in the boiler room. ‘That’s where I was. And that’s why I don’t like water now.’”

21. Emily

“When my sister was probably about 6 or 7, she had an imaginary friend named Emily. She told us Emily lived in her closet, wore an old black dress, and had long dark hair and she was the same age as my sister. My sister played with Emily constantly. My parents started noticing my sister acting weird. Just sitting in the middle of her room whispering to Emily quite a bit and acting a lot more distant towards them. I remember a very specific day, my brother was walking by her room and my sister was sitting in the middle of her room….but she turned around and hissed at him. He was scared shitless. He told me it didn’t even look like my sister. My parents ran up to her room and I could hear my sister just screaming and screaming.”

“I have no idea what happened in that room but I ran to the bottom of my stairs and the screaming stopped, I saw my parents holding my sister crying their eyes out, she was sobbing as well. I’ve asked her about it today. She’s 24 now. She told me that Emily used to tell her to do horrible things to herself. She actually used to wake up on the roof and not remember how she got there. I’m not kidding. Apparently Emily absolutely hated my parents so she turned my sister against them. She hates talking about it so I never brought up that specific night. This all happened at my old house. When we moved into a different house, Emily was gone. I’m not making any of this up. My sisters little friend was a really big deal to my family and messed things up for a long time. I’m just relieved we left that house.”

22. She floated above his bed at night

“When my younger brother was around 4, he had an imaginary friend named Victoria Meadowbrooke. He told us that she was the prettiest girl ever and she floated above his bed a night.”

23. “The Evil is coming”

“When my older daughter was two or three, she used to have a couple of imaginary friends, Dodo and DeeDee. They were typical imaginary friends. She would talk to them and play with them, and tell me about their lives.

Then one day, when she was about three, she was talking on her play phone when I walked into the room. She hung up her phone and said to me (with a completely flat voice and deadpan expression): ‘The Evil is coming.’”

#23 Parents Describe Their Kids’ Creepy Imaginary Friends #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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readwithk · 3 years

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The Wooden House

On December 19th, 1983 a young couple was roaming the streets of Paris. They were newly wedded and they were on their honeymoon. They were very happy. The girl's name was Anna and the boy was Noah. Noah loved her so much. Anna was a pure soul. She was kind and generous. Although, Noah was not that rich, but he never turned any word down that came out of Anna's mouth. He was madly in love and so was Anna. It was a cold evening. Anna was freezing. The wind was blowing, leaves rustling. All of a sudden Anna said, "I think it is time for us to finish our coffee and enter some decent nice shop. I think it is about to rain". "Yes, why not!", Noah replied, "Let me take you to the most famous wood-craft house of Paris". "Where is it?’’ Anna asked excitedly. "It is on this very street. Come on! Let me take you there my love". They both went towards the shop. The shop was not so splendid, yet they decided to go inside. On entering the shop, they saw an old man sitting in his comfortable chair with some small tools in his hands. He was mending something. There was a boy in the shop who was cleaning some ancient artifacts. The shop had everything made up of wood. The boy greeted the couple and asked them that what they want to buy? The couple replied, "Give us some time". The boy left them. Noah asked Anna to roam and see things for herself. She took a quick round of the store and came back. She was a bit disappointed. She said, "Honey, I do not find anything that suits us". Noah asked her for the reason because according to him there were some pretty showpieces that they could buy. She replied, "Nothing in here reflects love". "Do you think love exists?" The old man interrupted. "Yes, of course I do", Anna replied politely. "No one today loves truly. Those were my times when people were mostly sincere. Nowadays, you will not find someone like that", the old man said. "No sire, it is not the truth. I married my husband two weeks ago and we do love each other so much. We have been through good and bad times, but together. I know him for past six years", Anna said. It began to rain outside. The temperature was freezing. It was getting cold. All of a sudden, the bulb got fused due to some electrical issue. The light went off. The boy fetched some candles and lit them. There was a dim light in the store. The old man caught their attention by saying, "I have something that might reflect love, but it is not for sale. I can show it to you if you want me to". The couple keenly agreed. The old man went to a small room inside the store. Five minutes later, he came out with a small wooden house in his hand. He raised his hand and asked the couple to have a look. The house was indeed very beautiful. "It is perfectly splendid", Noah said in amazement. "Yeah! Indeed", Anna added to Noah's statement. "I made it for someone I love. I made it a long time ago. You people won't have time for my story, otherwise I would have told you the reason behind making this wooden house", said the old man. Noah and Anna insisted that they have plenty of time and that they could amuse themselves with a story on a cold and rainy evening like that. The boy stood there listening to them. Noah, Anna, and the old man sat on the chairs. "Before beginning", said the old man, "I would like to tell you that this story belongs to me". And in this way the old man narrated his story. A long time ago, maybe fifty years ago, when I was a fine young man, I fell in love with a dancer. She used to dance in a club. I used to see her. She was so beautiful and young. She had a lady whom she called aunt. She was in a group of twelve young woman. She was youngest of all. She was seventeen and I was twenty years old. I was not that rich. I used to visit the place with my cousin, Ed. Her name was Elizebeth. I used to call her Lizzy. She liked me, too, but was unable to give me importance while dancing. Once she did and the consequences were not good. She was punished. Next day, after performing she was taking her break. I went near her and asked her the reason of her sadness. She hesitated at first, but later, she told me that last night she was punished by a whip and that she will soon be a prostitute once she will cross her eighteenth birthday. It made me sad. Such a beautiful creature she was. Violating her was the violation of the nature. She was a natural beauty. She asked me about my profession. I told her that I was a carpenter. She laughed, but not in an insulting way. She said that I was unique. Every man she had ever danced for was either a commander or a doctor or some other wealthy man. She never in her life ever met a carpenter before. She seemed glad. My cousin came and he told me that my father needed me on his shop. So, I left her there promising her to meet her tomorrow again. Days passed by, we talked and talked and talked and we fell in love without knowing it. Well, I was the only one who did not know it. One evening I was sitting with her. I was smoking my cigar and she was having a glass of bear. Suddenly she said, "I am going to be sold at the end of this week or may be sooner, I don't know". I was sad after listening to the words coming out of her mouth. "Will you marry me? You and me? We both can go to a farm, have our own kids. You'll take them to school. We will raise them. I will love you with all my heart. I will dance for you on the nights you will come home in a bad mood. I will cherish you in your sad moments. I promise you protection. Protection of your honor and dignity. Till death us apart?", she said with a question in her eyes. "Dear Lizzy", I replied, "Let me talk to my father about this". The next morning, I went to my father. He was very cold as usual. He was working on some project. I gathered all the courage in the world to tell him that I am in love and that I need to marry this girl. I took a deep breath and told him everything. He seemed normal until I told him that Lizzy was a dancer. He yelled at me and told me that dancers like Elizebeth are merely a source to calm oneself and not to marry. I told him she was virgin, but he threatened me with my whole career and fortune. He told me that if I will insist anymore, he would hinder me from his wealth and property. My mother came to me and told me that a man with his mother and sisters alive is not meant to marry a whore. I was immature. I went to Lizzy and broke up with her. I was a very foolish man. It saddened me so much because I had affection for her. She was disheveled. She slapped me and went to her small room. I was already dishearten. The slap added the salt to my open wounds. I drank a lot of alcohol. I was sitting in another bar all of a sudden, I saw a man staring at me from the right corner. When I looked at him attentively, I thought he was someone I know, but I was drunk so I tend to left the place. The next morning, I had nothing to do, so I took a block of wood, my tools, and some paint. That was the time I built this beautiful house. But I had no one to give it to. So, I waited for it to dry and I put it in my pocket. I vowed that I will keep it near me no matter what. It reminded me of her every time I looked at it. On the same evening, I went to the same bar. I saw the same man from yesternight. He approached near me and said, "Are you Mr. Elvis Dean?" I replied, "Yes, indeed I am. Why?". "Don't you remember your old friend, Vis?", he said. Now I knew whom I was staring at. The moment I realized who he was, I stood up and hugged him. He was Albert. Albert Franco, my friend. Nine years ago, he went abroad for studies and he returned as a quite rich man. He was a doctor. We exchanged a few words and then he finally asked me about my love-life. I told him about the melodramatic situation I was caught up in. The main problem was money. He smiled at me and offered me financial help. He told me that he could help me with the expenses. All I need to do is to find a priest and my bride to be. I felt really happy. I went home, said my goodbyes to my family. My father hindered me from the property, but it was fine. I was happy and completely supported by a generous friend. I went to her aunt's mansion. She was not her actual aunt. I asked her to send her out and I negotiated with her the price of Lizzy's freedom. She smiled and replied that Lizzy has gone for her first prostitution project with two men. Her words had an impact of a bullet on me. I was unable to speak. I took a step back and I thought that how scared that poor thing might be. I was heartbroken. I went back to my hotel room. I waited for the next day. The next day, I went to the mansion. I asked about her and she wasn't there. That mistress was not answering my questions. I become gravely worried. Another day passed and still no Lizzy. I was furious this time. I went there to claim what was mine. When I reached there, I saw a prostitute waving at me from her window. I went upstairs. Her name was Eva. She told me that Elizabeth was admitted in a hospital and that she was fighting for her life. I somehow maintained my balance and reached the given location as soon as I could back then. I searched every room hysterically and finally I saw her. Her face was bruised. Her wrists had cuts. Her head was shaved from its right corner. Her feet had rope marks. She was lying there like a lifeless body. She seemed like a corpse. I rushed into her arms and asked her about what happened. She sobbed and told me that she was sold at a very low cost to two men. They took her to a private place and then the poor Elizabeth was raped by twenty men over and over again. I told her how sorry I was. Guilt and grief were flickering through my eyes in form of tear drops. I told her about my father and about my friend Albert who helped me in achieving my goal or the goal that was yet to be achieved. I took out the house and placed it on her chest. She had bite marks there. She was severely molested. I asked her for her forgiveness. She smiled. She was barely able to talk. She gestured me to come closer. So, I did. All I could hear was "I love you Elvis" in her melodious voice. I pushed her gently back. She was staring at me. It seemed like my eyes were a dark pit and she was trying to find something inside of them. She looked into the dark pit (my eyes) and found her own image. She said, "In you, I find me. I find us". Those were her last words. I loved her since. I am a bachelor who was once in love with a whore. And that whore was my proud. In this way, the old man's story came to an end. Anna was bursting into tears and Noah felt lamented. The old man said, "My dear, take it. I was not able to get my love, but you do. Every time you will look at it, you will remember me and Lizzy. I want you to pray for me. I want to be with her in the after-life. Take this". Noah interrupted, "But it is special for you. How can we take it?" "So, it is for you, too. It reflects true love and weren't you looking for something that reflects true love?", asked Elvis. Anna said, "Okay sire, but we will be paying for it. How much for it?" "There is no price for affection my child", the old man replied. Noah interrupted, "take this", pulling out his wallet and placing a fifty Euro note on the old man's palm. "I think the weather is fine outside now. Let us leave love before it gets rainy again", Noah said. They then greet the old man and left his store. Elvis wiped his tears, sat in his chair and started counting his money. The servant who was quiet for so long came near and said, "Master, you have a wife, six daughters, three sons, and five grand-children. Why did you lie?" Mrs. Elvis is from a very respectable family, I know. Then why did you lie?" The old man laughed and said, "If a five Euro thing can be sold in fifty, wouldn't you sell it for a greater profit? Sometimes, we have to take what is ours by one way or another." The boy was disgusted by the old man's wickedness, but he was merely a servant so he remained silent and went back to clean the artifacts.

#lovestory #tragiclovestory #tragedy #couples #problems #paris #woodenhouse #mystery #pain #devastation #freedomofsoul #trueaffection #truelove #shortstory

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bumbershots · 3 years

Text

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER THREE: WHO ARE YOU?

Author’s note: Hello! Once more I would like to thank you all for the love this story’s been getting, it truly blows my mind. I am also looking for a beta reader so if anyone out there is interested let me know! (: Let’s pick up right where we left off...

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.3K **

Two souls don't find each other by simple accident, Harry thought after taking a seat for the first time that night, his feet were probably going to be swollen tomorrow, they were killing him already. But he wasn't keen on turning down a dance from the girl collapsing in the settee right next to him. A slow Amy Winehouse song was their cue to rest.

"Do you want a beer?" Her voice sounded a bit hoarse, probably from all the giggling and singing she did while dancing the night away.

"Yes please."

He watched her trot to the small bar on the other side of the flat, focused on how the multiple bracelets bounced in her left wrist as she instructed her brother which beer to give her. As she came back to take her previous seat, he felt a small wave of anxiety for wanting nothing more than to start a conversation with her, as she handed him the beer. Usually it was the other way around, but in most of the cases, people wanted to know his persona.

He knew the silence was becoming awkward, but he was still debating whether to ask about her upbringing or what she did for work, whatever the case was, he didn't want to make a fool out of himself, he almost never seemed to be that lucky.

"You're not used to people being calm around you, are you?" Alma’s frown os curiosity is a mirror to the one on the musician's face.

"Yes and no?" Harry's coy tone makes her smile warmly and shake her head in denial, "so, I'm Hampstead station guy?" Her eyes widen, a shy smile appears on her full lips before she takes another large sip of her drink.

"It's unlikely to find the same person thrice in the tube! I told my friend Laura, it felt like a glitch in the matrix." She answers and he lets out an amused laugh.

"For the record, I wasn't following you, at all..."

"I know, you just had to take the same line I did and it was a happy coincidence," she interrupts him, the new song gathers a few more dancers and Harry wonders if she will ask him to dance again, "although it would've made a great anecdote for my YouTube channel; story time, a famous musician follows me around the city possibly plotting my painful death." She joked as she gingerly flashed her hands before the two of them, as if presenting the latest play from the West End.

It was Harry's eyes turn to be wide and smack his hand into his forehead.

"You have a YouTube channel?" His interest was genuine and Alma made herself more comfortable on the sofa, before proceeding to fill him in about what that was about, just videos about her 'sort of interviewing remarkable people' or so she claimed.

It was something that started as a class project back when she was seventeen, trying to get good grades to win a scholarship and study abroad —none of those things happened. She kept doing it afterwards because it was too much fun, once she interviewed all her friends, she moved onto her family. "Believe me when I tell you, that I have more relatives than I should!" With a smile as big as hers, he sighed before breathing 'lucky' as his heart sped and she continued.

Restaurant owners, chefs, firefighters, barristers, doctors, accountants, waitresses, sexual workers, sex shop employees, bankers, homeless people, hairdressers and apparently every person from her home country had been on the informal interview series. Harry was impressed with the whole concept and her.

"I sort of abandoned it a little when I moved here last year, it was crazy busy the first couple of months and the whole bureaucracy... and I was a little homesick to be honest." For the first time in the night, her voice is thinner, he has to lean in a few inches to hear better, "I miss my parents, my cousins, my aunt, my grandparents. But this is something I've wanted for the longest time you know?" Her eyes bore into his, allowing him to see the vulnerability swimming in them, "I've never felt like an outsider here, never got lost in the tube, took the wrong bus or anything like that. Isn't it weird?" Harry smiled at the sentiment, thoughts of his latest trip to Japan flashing before him.

"No, I think it's marvellous that you feel that way." He cannot be real, is the only thing running through her mind like a restless hamster in its wheel.

Harry and Alma talked about everything they didn’t have in common, despite the brief interruptions to do some shots and drink champagne with the birthday boy. Their families were discussed, their favourite things to do in the summer. Alma even asked him how was work going, as if she didn’t know that he was one of th world’s most successful artists. Harry was thrilled to joke through their drinks and the girl wasn't shy to ask him for a couple more dances. None of them noticed the partying dying around them, it was only after Fernando said his goodbyes to his laughing sister, that they noticed how late/early it actually was.

Before they knew it, golden hues streamed through the window behind them as Freddie walked out of his room and offered them coffee.

"I'm never drinking straight vodka again," Freddie mumbled to himself after finishing his cup of coffee.

"At least it wasn't Vodquila like last time," Alma's words make him groan but agree. "I should go now, need a shower and a healthy breakfast."

After Harry also admitted he needed to be on his way, with all their belongings gathered and after saying goodbye to a very ill Freddie, neither Harry or Alma looked forward to their imminent separation. He had spent hours hearing how busy she is, when not recording content, she was working at Wenzel's and teaching Spanish to her neighbour's daughter on the weekends. Still, he was determined to meet with her again.

As soon as they started moving down the street, Harry noticed the next one was where he had to turn right in order to go home. It wasn't a short walk but the most effective route for sure.

"So, the bus stop is that way," Alma nodded her head to the left, smirking knowingly as she stuffs her hands in her coat pockets.

"Of course," they had come to a rolling stop at the corner. Harry suddenly felt beyond nervous about asking the girl for her phone number. "Thank you, for keeping me company last night." It was amazing he wanted to add, but licked his lips quickly instead.

"You mean keeping you from catching up with all your friends," she corrected him.

Harry shakes his head and smiles, the dimples graciously adorning his cheeks, his racing heart giving him the last push needed to finally ask. "Do you think we could go, like for coffee... sometime?” With that she laughed, immediately memorising the sound of it, her loud cackle is one of the nicest things he has heard in awhile.

"Only if I can buy you something from the selection of pastries." Harry laughed loudly, completely relieved by her answer. She dug around her purse for a moment before taking out a pen and what seemed to be an old receipt, quickly scribbling down her number and handing it to him.

"I'll call you," he beamed, carefully placing the piece of paper in his wallet. He'd be an idiot to lose such a precious fragment of information.

"Looking forward to it," Alma smiled at him for one last time before she started walking to the opposite direction. "See you around Harry." His face was a bit puffy from not having slept properly, but she would be lying to say he didn’t look adorable at the same time.

He waved and watched her walked away, her sweet and tired morning smile seemed to be engraved into the musician's mind as he headed home.

The air was still a bit cold, but the heat was starting to rise and plague London for the rest of the day, the hot summer everyone's been yearning for was finally here, even Harry could feel it in his bones as he continued down his path. He was still highly enamoured by the amazing night he spent sharing a piece of himself with Alma. His feet felt heavy, were even burning a little, but it was nothing as he made his way through his home gate twenty minutes later.

He decided to get some toast and a cuppa for breakfast, his high spirits not faltering even one bit although he could feel the consequences from the all-nighter already with each yawn. After eating he decided to take a shower that got him ready for a well deserved sleep in his comfortable bed.

Waking up around six o'clock startles him at first, Harry is well rested now but a bit grumpy for the weird taste on his tongue, something usual after drinking beer. He scolds himself for not brushing his teeth earlier as he walks in his bathroom. The cool tiles against his bare feet wake him up a bit more. After some needed dental hygiene, Harry gets dressed to go out and pick up his sister for their weekly dinner. Hopefully he can convince her to stay in, that way he can go on and on about the events from the night before.

His feet still hurt, he can even feel a blister underneath his big toe. But it doesn't bother him, it's actually a nice reminder of the incredible things that miraculously happened. Harry knew that since Alma was related to Fernando, someone that was bound to be in his life for the next six months or so, there was a big chance they would've met at some point. But he'd rather think it was fate, some sort of good karma coming round, he stared at her contact on his phone, still charmed by the fact that she gave it to him on the back of a receipt. Ignoring that she only did it that way, because the thought of asking for his mobile to enter it herself, was a very bold move. And Alma wasn’t really that confident, not when his green eyes were boring into hers anyway.

"When are you gonna call her then?" Gemma's voice snaps him out of his daydream for the third time during their quiet dinner in her flat. "What is it? You've got that look."

"What look?" He asks before his sister frowns and pinches her bottom lip with her thumb and index finger. It's his nervous quirk, he sighs, "I don't know, I'm just so nervous." Without a valid reason, he knows the girl is so lovely, maybe that's why.

"You're afraid of fucking it up," she knows, Harry nods. "Well, you could tell her that, perhaps on a text—

"—I want to call her, texting her will make me feel a wanker." Gemma smiles at her little brother, he looked uncharacteristically unsure of himself but nonetheless excited. It was endearing how the first thing he told her after crossing her home's threshold was 'my life is officially a chick flick!' Before proceeding to explain with detail about the whole situation.

"What about a text that reads: hello, this is Harry please save my number so when I find the guts to call you, you don't think it's a telemarketing scam," Gemma might be joking and mocking him all at once, but has a point. A text so she also has his number, makes the situation more even, she can call him too. "Assuming she gave you a real phone number."

"What?" Harry is mortified.

"I'm kidding, you should've seen your face," his sister wanted to drag a bit more her joke, but the preoccupied look on his face stopped her. Gemma couldn't wait to tell their mum, knowing that she would be just as absorbed. "There's nothing wrong with showing interest right away. If you want this to be honest and genuine, set an example." She finished before taking the last bite of pizza.

Harry knew that to be true, but now he was left wondering if it was the right time for him. Had he really left behind all the ghosts and baggage from his past? Or was he still carrying them in the new tattoos of his knees?

Despite his sister's encouraging words about how nothing could go wrong this early with Alma, he couldn't help but wonder if his still grieving heart was ready.

He takes his time walking back home, not caring if it was a really long one, he was aware of the curious eyes once he reached the Southbank but paid no attention to them. He welcomed the chill breeze, hoping for it to cool his boiling mind. Remembering the last time he walked along the river arms around his former flame, her laughter still ringing in his ears, her tender kisses in his knuckles, her delicious scent flying away with the airstream into London's sunshine.

Missing someone is not wrong, Harry reminds himself.

There's no point going down the rabbit hole of what ifs about their relationship. Harry can admit his mistakes, no matter how hard it comes to him, he can also apologise wholeheartedly. He did all those things already, months ago. Which is why he was able to keep her as a friend, not a close one, more like an acquaintance. And she's happy, he can see that, knows it.

Why does he feel like he's still drowning? He's already been pulled from the vast ocean of hers. Harry groans, struggles to open his gate, his good spirits from this morning nowhere to be found.

He doesn't know if it's the memory of her, the fear of loneliness, coincidence and laziness, or a bad habit? But he doesn't text the girl with warm brown eyes, instead he plays the voicemail that sometimes haunts his nightmares, on repeat, for the rest of the night.

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prongsies · 4 years

Text

Star-Crossed ⁕ Chapter Six

←Chapter 5 | Master list

The days rolled by quickly, unnoticed by the Hogwarts students since they were buried under mountains of schoolwork anyway. The weather had slowly started to get colder the as November neared, and much to Thalia’s dismay, she found herself shivering slightly as she walked to the greenhouses from Hagrid’s Care for Magical Creatures.

A group of fellow-sixth years greeted her as she passed by them, her waving a hand in return as she continued her trail, trying to go as fast as she can.

“Are you alright there?” A voice stopped Thalia. She was unaware that among the group was Cedric Diggory, whom she met briefly weeks ago. He motioned for his friends to walk ahead of him, probably to Hagrid’s hut, as he approached her with a smile, “I always do wonder why you don’t dress up enough for the weather”

“It’s a mystery to me too” Thalia chuckled, rubbing her glove-clad hands together to gain a bit of heat. Cedric grinned at her, making a move to unwrap the scarf he had on, when Thalia stopped him. “It’s alright, Cedric! I’m heading off to the greenhouses anyway – it wouldn’t be too cold there”

“I insist, Thalia”

Cedric reached over, wrapping the scarf around her neck snugly, smiling at his work.

“Thanks”

“It’s nothing” Cedric said, starting to turn to join his friends when he stopped to face Thalia again, “I hope- well, I hope Weasley doesn’t find offense in my actions towards you. I just really enjoy your energy – I was hoping we can be friends”

“I don’t understand why he would”

“The man is clearly in love with you!” Cedric exclaimed with a laugh, throwing his arms up to prove his point. His eyes drifted towards the scarf he had given her, which proudly showcased the Hufflepuff logo, “that might do the trick making him jealous”

“Oh, sod off, Ced!” Thalia laughed, shoving Cedric’s chest playfully before stalking up towards the castle again, rolling her eyes when he called out, telling her to thank him later if it all works out.

She was grinning when she arrived at the greenhouses, joining Fred and George who were selling a bunch of dung bombs to third years, speaking to them in hushed voices. They looked up at the sound her shoes crunching against the grass, smiling briefly at her as they ushered the younger students off, reminding them to tell their friends where they bought the products.

“You’re happy” Fred noted once the third years were out of earshot, eyes snapping towards the scarf around her neck, “You’ve been with Diggory?”

“We ran into each other while I was on my way here” Thalia replied, shrugging as she made her way towards the entrance, “He insisted I keep it – said I looked cold”

“I’ll catch up to you inside, Lia” George broke their conversation, smiling at Thalia.

He turned back to Fred, reprimanding him for his behavior, which the latter didn’t seem to be apologetic of.

Weeks passed and suddenly they were all outside, waiting to welcome the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbaton, all arriving today as scheduled. The air outside the castle was crisp, giving Thalia’s knuckles a papercut-like feeling. To her right stood Fred and George, talking to Harry and Ron about Godric knows what; and to her left were Ginny and Hermione, gushing about a Ravenclaw boy who took a liking to Hermione.

“We were thinking about whipping up an Aging Potion” Fred leaned down to whisper in her ear.

Turning her attention towards him, she was quick to protest against the idea, “It’s dangerous, Fred – you know that. Besides, it’s a fairly difficult potion to brew-”

“Which is why I want you to help us brew it” Fred interrupted, turning to face her completely. “You’re the best in Potions, I know you can make one”

“I doubt it’d work” Thalia reasoned out again, “Dumbledore will definitely put an Age Line there – and for a reason. I’m sure he’s thought to counter any method of attempt to go beyond it”

“Just admit you don’t want to help us, Thalia” Fred snapped, turning away from her.

“It’s not that I don’t want to help you, it’s just-”

“There!” A Hufflepuff yelled, effectively ending the poor attempt of a conversation Thalia and Fred were engaged in.

Thalia sighed, turning towards the Forbidden Forest where everyone’s attentions rested, seeing something rather large making its way over towards them. She gaped at a gigantic horse-drawn carriage the size of a house, pulled by at least a dozen elephant-sized winged horses as it landed to the ground.

Golden steps unfolded from the carriage a mere minute since it landed, before a gigantic woman stepped out. Dumbledore, standing at a corner, began clapping – which they took as a cue to imitate. He approached the woman, taking her hand and planting a kiss on it, not so much needing to bend down so he could do so.

The woman, Madame Maxime as uttered by Dumbledore, presented her students with a motion towards the carriage. A dozen boys and girls about Thalia’s age – if not, older – emerged from the carriage, taking their place behind Madame Maxime, almost disappearing due to her stature.

“I wouldn’t mind being that tall” Ginny whispered into Thalia’s ear, tugging her sleeve so she’d lean down, “Might help intimidating the guys, you know?”

Thalia nodded her head, agreeing with Ginny before a whirlpool appeared in the stretch of the lake, a pole ascending from its eyes. Slowly, a ship arose from the water, casting a magnificent silhouette against the sunset in its background.

An audible gasp left Thalia’s lips at the sight of it, and upon glancing down at Ginny and Hermione, they too seemed entranced by the sight. A few moments later, after they heard the splash of the anchor being thrown over, a plank lowered onto bank where people started disembarking.

“Dumbledore” the man who was leading the crowd called heartily as he walked up the slope towards their headmaster. The two exchanged pleasantries, Thalia easily getting distracted by the students trailing behind him. She didn’t know how it happened, but her eyes seemed to drift over to a particular student standing in front, with tan skin, and raven hair that curled out in different directions.

She was about to turn away, she swears – but he looked up and suddenly his brown eyes caught her own, holding her gaze even until their headmaster started talking.

She wasn’t able to get a really good look at him, though, especially when Ron suddenly spoke, “Harry - it’s Krum!”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

Thalia kept quiet as they made their way back to Great Hall, which brought confusion to George who nudged her, only getting a nudge in response. She was thankful he understood enough to give her some space, claiming Fred’s usual seat beside her in the Gryffindor table once they arrived.

Dumbledore welcomed the students to their school, wishing them to feel right at home in its grounds, before reminding them that the tournament will officially open at the end of the feast. With his conclusion, rows of food appeared on the table, providing a much wider variety than usual.

Thalia looked around as the hall dissolved into chatters, the Ravenclaws getting to know the Beauxbatons students that had joined them, and the Slytherins speaking to the Durmstrang students.

“Lia” a whisper beside her caught her attention. She looked towards Ginny who had a smirk plastered on his face, nodding her head towards the Slytherin Table.

Thalia followed the direction, eyes immediately meeting those of the boy she had seen earlier outside the castle. The stern expression he had on before had left his face, sending a small smile towards Thalia’s direction before returning his attention towards her cousin, Draco Malfoy, whose eyes darted from him to Thalia.

“She’s a veela!” Ron exclaimed, voice hoarse as his eyes followed the girl who had just left with their plate of Bouillabaisse, astonished. Thalia couldn’t help but laugh at him, surprising everyone at the table as they joined in the hilarity one by one.

Once the plates were cleared, Professor Dumbledore stood from his seat, waiting for the conversations to slowly die down. Thalia noticed Ludo Bagman in the staff table, sitting beside Professor Karkaroff of Durmstrang.

“Didn’t you make a bet with him at the World Cup?” She whispered towards George, who responded with a nod.

“Best of luck tryin’ to claim your prize money, then” Seamus Finnigan butted in after overhearing the conversation, “I heard he’s got a bit’o’va gamblin’ problem – hasn't paid anyone their shares in years”

“That’s a shame” Fred replied.

“Better not mess with us, then” George added, “We’re very persistent”

The four directed their attention towards Dumbledore, who was asking for a few minutes of the students' attention so he could give his explanation before they brought in the casket.

“Blimey! Already the planning the deaths of the champions, huh?” Thalia commented towards their small group, somehow making Lee snort into his pumpkin juice.

Their headmaster started enumerating the procedure, telling the students that if they wish to submit themselves as champions, they are to write their name onto a piece of parchment and drop in into the goblet of fire presented in the middle of the Great Hall.

“Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forwards. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three champions. The goblet will be moved to the entrance hall tonight – accessible to those wishing to compete”

Confirming Thalia’s argument towards Fred a little while ago, Dumbledore continued, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the goblet of fire once placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line”

Thalia leaned back, tapping Fred in the arm to get his attention, only for him to pull his arm away from her. Dejected, she returned to her position, feeling George wrap a comforting arm around her, possibly understanding the conflict between her and his twin already.

“You know we’re still going to attempt to brew one, right?” Whispered George.

“I know” Thalia sighed. Thinking for a moment, she finally agreed leaning up to George saying, “Fine, I’ll help you brew one. But if something happens, you don’t get to blame me”

“Of course,”

The students piled out after Dumbledore’s speech, the twins and Thalia heading straight to the library to do their research on the ingredients of a reversible Aging potion. Thalia could tell Fred was still annoyed by their little spat earlier in the day, but he seemed to calm down a bit the moment George told him she’d be willing to help them along.

They arrived back to the Gryffindor common room, Thalia following the twins up the stairs to the twins’ dormitories after fetching the ingredients – surprisingly – in Thalia’s trunk. She settled beside Lee Jordan, struggling to keep her eyes open as she watched the twins work on the Potion on their own.

By three in the morning, they weren’t even half-way done, since the Potion hadn’t reached the exact description stated in the book. George and Thalia could tell Fred was starting to get frustrated, from the snappiness in his tone to the way he would toss the ingredients around.

“Can I please go to bed now?” Thalia asked for the third time that night, fighting back another yawn that threatened to leave her lips.

Fred glared up at her from across the bubbling cauldron, sneering, “I told you we need you here, Thalia”

“Pipe down, Fred” George warned.

“But this is Dumbledore we’re talking about” The yawn finally escaped, bringing tears to her eyes from her tiredness. “No matter how perfect we brew this, it still wouldn’t work”

“Why don’t you just leave then?” Fred asked sarcastically, motioning towards the door. George nudged him to get him to shut up, but he ignored it, “If you’re just going to sit here and whine like a child about how sleepy you are, then might as well leave”

“As if you didn’t tell me stay” Thalia snapped back, having enough of Fred’s treatment towards her.

“I didn’t ask for you to be here!” Fred exclaimed, his voice now rising, effectively waking Lee who had fallen asleep on George’s bed. “You’re just here so you can prove how much smarter you are than us”

“Calm down, Fred” said Lee from the bed, now more awake than he had been.

“No, I will not calm down”

“Fred-” warned George, voice stern towards his twin who just wouldn’t back down.

“We don’t need you, Thalia! We’ve never needed you! Merlin, you forced yourself into our lives just to feel better about your rich self – just so you could say you’re friends with people from the other end of the economic spectrum” Fred inhaled deeply, ignoring George who was pulling him away as he advanced towards Thalia, “You think you’re our friend but you’re not. You never were”

Minutes of silence passed between them, George and Lee not knowing that to say since everything that escaped Fred’s lips is practically irreversible by now.

Thalia stood up, her body numb and eyes stinging from holding back the tears that threatened to fall. With a nod, she seemed to have processed everything, “So that’s it, then? Ten whole years of friendship just-” She motioned a dive with her hand, “-down the drain, huh?’

Fred didn’t speak.

Thalia sniffed, feeling the first tear run down her cheek as she nodded again, accepting her fate – accepting her position. “Okay, then” She said calmly, avoiding everyone’s gazes.

She dropped the last ingredient of the potion into the cauldron, scaring everyone when the liquid began to fizz, before leaving the room without another word.

Master list | Chapter 7→

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aurora-australis-tumbles · 4 years

Note

Heey can you do 40 (exes) for phrack?

Oh Anonymous... this went in a direction I don’t think either of us expected. 😂Hope you enjoy it anyway and thank you for the prompt!

For the prompt, “exes meeting again after not speaking for years au”

---------------------

There is a space, on the handlebar of Jack’s new bike, that is just wide enough, and just flat enough, to seat a person while it is in motion.

That is her spot.

Together they ride through the uncharted wilds of North Richmond, the jungles of Fitzroy, the shorelines of St. Kilda. And when he is with her, Jack feels like a true adventurer, a pirate of legend, an explorer of old.

(He isn’t sure who is the captain and who is the first mate, but he suspects they are trading roles with every voyage. He is surprisingly comfortable with this.)

She does a good job of holding on without impeding his view, but sometimes, on the really tight corners, he has to lean forward, his face precariously close to her breasts, so he can see where they’re going.

One those days he makes sure to thank Great Uncle Ted in his prayers.

Well, Uncle Ted and the ice cream man who wouldn’t take her IOU.

Jack had stepped in, offered to pay. She’d declined, told him she didn’t require assistance. He’d then suggested her could see her home, if she wanted, and one look at his bike had her accepting that proposal.

Six months later they spend all their spare time together.

They are an odd pair, from the outside. He’s relaxed, scholarly, funny, sweet. She’s skittish, shrewd, sarcastic, restless. He loves school and thinking about the future. She’s brilliant, but not studious, and can’t plan past the next hour. He’s respectful, she’s defiant. He laughs easily, and she doesn't, but when she does… oh when she does it is earned. He’s from a large, loving family who he speaks of often, but doesn’t even know if she has relations other than a cousin she mentions with a kind smile. He is an open book. She’s never even told him her surname.

But they share a wicked sense of humour, care about the same causes, are both explorers at heart.

They see each other.

His mates think her wild, but she’s not. What she really is is unconstrained, and the distinction may be lost on his friends but to Jack it is everything.

She is everything.

He thinks he might love her but he’s both too juvenile and too precocious to commit to the term. He doesn’t even know if he’s her only… friend. But he would gladly be her boyfriend, her proper boyfriend, if she’d let him.

Not that they’re always proper. He doesn’t lose his virginity to her, but he comes awfully close.

He is just working up the nerve to ask her to make it official when she tells him she is going away. She is only 16 but there are many more years of sadness in her eyes as she says it.

“Where?”

“Europe,” she tells him, but doesn’t elaborate.

He feels like he’s been sucker punched by an entire continent.

“Maybe I’ll see you there,” he manages through the hurt. “I’ve been thinking of enlisting.”

They meet one more time after that, and he gives her a gift. Something he’s been holding onto for a while.

“I can’t take this,” she tells him, knowing its value instinctively.

“You must,” he replies. “How else will you get away with it?”

“With what?”

“Everything.”

She laughs, truly laughs, and then she cries and he holds her and kisses her goodbye.

The poets make this part seem much more noble.

“Will you… do you think you’ll write? I’d like it very much if you did.” It is murmured into her hair, but she doesn’t answer. He knows she doesn’t make promises she can’t keep, but in this case...

“Just one then,” he negotiates. “When you arrive. So I know you’re safe and alright.”

“Jack… I’m not.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that so he just holds her tighter, and eventually she leaves.

His handlebars always feel empty after that.

The world has changed, though, and he feels duty bound to change with it.

He enlists, asking his parents to please pass along word if he receives any letters from Europe.

He doesn’t.

---------------------

The years pass, eventful and mundane, and he never hears from her. Assumes he never will. So when he next lays eyes on her, two decades later and at a crime scene no less, it is a shock to all his senses.

He is trying to keep up as she spins her theories like spiderwebs around the room, but in the end he is just caught in them himself.

She plays the whole thing so coy he’s not even sure she knows who he is.

The idea hurts more than he thought it would.

Still, it would be understandable; Jack feels like several lifetimes have passed in the intervening years.

He eventually finds his footing though, manages to evict her from the room and avoid her as much as possible after that. Calls her Miss Fisher to maintain distance and propriety despite the fact that he once had his hand clumsily up her skirt in the middle of the Fitzroy Gardens.

And then the case is over and good thing too because he’s not sure his nerves can handle much more of this.

When she announces her new occupation he actually spits out his champagne.

He goes to see her in her hotel room that evening, not even caring if she remembers him or not.

She answers the door with a smile and welcomes him inside. As he’s removing his hat, she leans back against the door and crosses her arms.

“You know you used to throw pebbles against my window. I don’t know what to do with this knocking on the door nonsense.”

Oh. So she does remember.

He shrugs without turning to face her. “You’re staying on the top floor,” he reminds her. “And my arm is 20 years older.”

She laughs, easily he realizes with a twinge of something he can’t quite name, and asks him to remove his coat and have a seat.

He does, but keeps his coat on; some situations require armor.

She sits across from him and he gives her a nervous smile. “So…” he begins, uncertain how to actually begin.

“It’s been a while,” she says, saving him a little, and he barks out a laugh.

“Yes,” he agrees.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, and he can see she means it.

“It is. I’ve often… I wondered how you were. I’m glad you’re…” He huffs out a sigh, annoyed at his own tied tongue. He feels seventeen again and not in a good way. “You seem well,” he finally settles on.

“I am. As do you. A Senior Detective Inspector. Impressive.”

“Uh, yes. Yes. Thank you.”

“And useful.” She gives him a gleeful grin, and that look hasn’t changed since they were teenagers. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”

“Yes, about that.” Beguiling smile or not, this is his opening and he has something to say. “Have you thought this through, Phryne?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you don’t have the best track recording for sticking with things.”

“Excuse me?” She seems piqued and he rushes to continue.

“You’re… don’t get me wrong, I know it seems fun. And you always did like a lark. But crime — victims of crimes — they’re not just a distraction.”

She fixes him with a serious look. “And I would never treat them as such.”

“Oh come off it. You’re flighty. Which is fine. Charming even. But this line of work… this isn’t another book you’ll never finish or scarf you’ll never complete. I know you and — ”

“You do not.”

Now it is his turn to be affronted. “Excuse me?”

“You barely knew me at sixteen. You do not know me now. And I’ve really outgrown lectures from men on who I am and who I am not.”

She stands up and walks over to the door, opening it and making it clear he is no longer welcome in her residence. He nods and puts his hat back on. As he passes her he gives her one more long look and that’s when he really sees it. The change in her. The skittishness is gone, replaced with pure resolve.

He leaves, assuming, once more, he’s unlikely to see her again.

And then he gets a call from an irate local sergeant.

He tells himself her involvement is not the reason for his, and for a while he even believes it. He certainly has no plans to use her, except this kid is being so recalcitrant and has obviously been through the ringer and he remembers this one time back in Collingwood, when they came across a lost little boy and Phryne had been so gentle with him. She’d known exactly what to say to calm him and he figures what the hell, maybe she’s still got the magic touch.

What she actually has is a car she uses to kidnap the victim's daughter and one of his suspects.

But when he goes to welfare, and speaks on her behalf, it is with the memories of both that lost little boy and Jane’s smiling face in Phryne’s kitchen.

He gives up on avoiding her. It isn’t worth the effort or bromo-seltzer.

Her intervening years are revealed to him in bits and pieces, and he responds in kind. An ambulance driver and a digger. A pilot and a picketer. Still single and still a marriage.

When he sees her portrait, the first thing he comments on is her hair.

“You still had it long then.” He’d always liked it long.

“Mmmm. Sometimes I miss it.”

He looks up at her and offers a small smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think this suits you now.”

When he finds out about her sister, he’s devastated. So many puzzle pieces fall into place, so many odd moments from their time together then that make sense now.

He wishes she’d told him, of course, but he understands why she didn’t. All he can do is be here for her now.

And when she reaches for his hand at the grave, he is.

All in all, he is genuinely enjoying their time together. Thinks she is too. It gets a little more complicated after his divorce, but it’s mostly just innocent flirting. He remembers that from the early days of their first acquaintance and relishs it just as much this time around.

Until she goes too far. Withholds evidence, shields a murderer, lies to him. He’s had it and he tells her as much.

He semi-apologizes, admits he’s giving her up. Hopes she doesn’t cry.

She doesn’t.

“You’re not sorry, you’re a coward,” she accuses.

The words sting and he lashes out in kind. “Why, because I don’t let you get away with everything anymore?”

She glares at him. “I don’t need your protection, Jack. I’m not a child!”

“Well you could have fooled me. This is suddenly feeling very familiar.”

“Stop it. This isn’t the same at all.”

“Of course not; this time I’m the one leaving.”

“And ask yourself just why that is. This isn’t about a stocking or a car crash. You look at me and you see all the possibilities of your youth and you’re angry because you just had to confront losing them for a second time.”

It’s an astute observation, but not quite accurate. Doesn’t account for what he actually cares about losing. Doesn’t account for her.

“And what do you see, Miss Fisher? A safety net? Something to be taken for granted, a distraction until the next adventure without even a letter to let me know you’re alive.”

“Fuck off,” she spits out.

“Gladly.” He turns to leave, and she shouts at his still turned back.

“I never promised I’d write.” He pauses in the parlour doorway, but doesn’t turn around.

“You never promised anything, Phryne. That would have been too much like something real.”

He leaves, for the first time hoping he won’t see her again.

The case at the college is excruciating. They get through it, but it's a close thing, and the irony of it ending with them both on a bike is not lost on him.

But he finds he does not wish to never see her again after all.

They share an alcohol-fueled accord after it is over, negotiate the new terms of their fractured partnership.

She makes the suggestion after the third glass.

He agrees after the fourth.

He meets her on the airfield the next morning, and is ungenerously pleased to see she is just as hungover as him. They share some of Mr. Butler’s tonic in companionable silence and wait until they are both fighting fit.

And then they fly.

It is an experience unlike any Jack has had before. He finds he rather agrees with Mr. Hugo as they dip and swoop in the air; he feels the thread of the infinite and he loves it.

Eventually they land and Phryne grins. “So how did you like my handlebars, Jack?”

“I liked them very much, Miss Fisher. Very much indeed.”

He walks her back to her car, and she turns to face him. Takes a deep breath. “I did write,” she confesses and he is literally stunned silent at the revelation. “Heaps of letters. I just couldn’t bear to send them. You said you were enlisting and… I was afraid they’d be returned. And I found the thought unbearable. I decided it was better to live in hope.” She reaches into her pocket and hands him a small wrapped item.

A beaten up sheriff's badge.

He never thought he’d see that again either.

“It was real, Jack. It was. But so is this. It’s different and it’s new but it’s real. And we’re missing it.”

He looks at her. Really looks at her. Not the distant, foggy memory of his first maybe love, but the living, breathing, remarkable woman in front of him.

What memory could compare to that?

He returns the badge to its rightful owner and asks her a question.

“Miss Fisher… may I buy you an ice cream at the foreshore?”

“No,” she tells him for the second time in their acquaintance. He nods. Accepts her answer this time as he had the first. “But I’ll buy you one.”

He smiles and it feels lovely and odd in the sun. “It’s a date.”

It is.

The first of many.

So much has changed in 20 years. They have changed. But they get to know each other again, anew, and find that much has not.

They still share a wicked sense of humour and care deeply about justice.

They still see each other.

Jack’s virginity hasn’t been an issue in a long, long time, but eventually what he does give her is his heart, and when he does he knows she will protect it. (She still has the badge after all.)

And now he knows he loves her.

There is a space, on the corner of Jack’s desk, that is just wide enough, and just low enough, to seat a person while he is working.

That is her spot.

It always has been.

| Short Fic Ask |

#mfmm fanfic drabble #mfmm fanfic #ask meme #exes

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addieatkins · 3 years

Text

I saw [ADELAIDE “ADDIE” WOLFE] at a coffee shop in [BROOKLYN] today. She is a [TWENTY-NINE] year old [B&B OWNER] who’s been in NYC for [TWO YEARS] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [RESILIENT & ALLOCENTRIC] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [DECEITFUL & TACITURN]. [GROWING PAINS BY ALESSIA CARA] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio.

tw: child neglect, arson. // @villagestart

hello fellow kids, i am g (aka the dumb dumb behind @soulcfaman here with another character nobody asked for. without further ado, i give you my sweet baby girl, addie:

H I S T O R Y

Adelaide Atkins Savoy is the daughter of Edward Atkins, an English salesman/conman and Ann Savoy, a French teacher that came from a (somewhat) noble family.

The Atkins family moved to Peachtree, Georgia from England when Addie was five years old after a business initiated by Edward, her father, went awry with the Savoys. Addie’s grandpa, who probably lost the most out of the business con but loved Addie to no end and wanted her grandkid to have a decent life, decided to fly the Atkin-Savoy family and bought them a wonderful, luxurious home on Addie’s name.

Her childhood was… an odd one, to say the least. Her parents still acted like they were part of the Savoy family while in Georgia (and with the housing/jobs Addie’s grandpa got them, there was no reason to doubt them) so they fit perfectly with Georgia’s finest, they were living a double life of sorts, socialités in debt who schemed their wealthiest friends without them knowing. Her parents promptly got Addie to work alongside them, either as a distraction or as an active asset in their plans and she couldn’t quite deny her skills to them alas, Addie did stuff she wasn’t proud of, illegal stuff she could get away with because no one suspected the little girl with the ponytails.

Edward Michael Atkins Savoy, Addie’s younger brother was born when Adelaide was around eleven. Ann lost interest on Eddie pretty quickly so Addie pretty much raised the kid as well as she could after she turned thirteen. The two formed an unbreakable bond very quickly.

She learned many skills during her time with her parents: pick locking, html, pickpocketing, boxing, sewing (which served the young woman well when her parents decided to stop buying their kids clothes and she started making them for the two of them instead), whatever her parents required of her and whatever she could learn to make sure her brother was well taken care of, she’d learn.

CHILD NEGLECT TW The worst instance of their parents neglecting both Addie and Eddie happened right after Eddie turned five. Their friends found out about how the couple had played them and the Atkins family lost all respect within the community, so they quickly started to go in debt with banks and strangers to try to live the life Ann and Edward were so used to. By this time, the matrimony had mostly forgotten their kids to the point where they stopped providing for them unless they needed Adelaide for some job, so it was all Addie’s responsibility to not only care for her brother but her parents somehow. She started working (an honest job) when she was fourteen and never truly stopped.

ARSON TW when Addie was seventeen, one year from graduating high school Edward and Ann made a decision: they needed money to pay off credit debts and alas, they needed to burn down the house the Savoys had bought for the family because they needed the insurance money. Addie started to storage as many stuff as she could when she was informed of what was going to happen (was guilt-tripped into staying silent) and the night her parents actually burnt the house down, Addie grabbed Eddie, everything she had gathered, a car a friend had lend to her and flee Peachtree, the two siblings didn’t look back. Adelaide didn’t finish High School.

After the two siblings escaped Peachtree, they situated in New Orleans for about a year, where Addie worked around two, three jobs in order to take care of herself and Eddie. No longer after a friend encouraged her to give her testimony (and all the proof she had gathered that backed up the claim that the fire had been premeditated) and she put her parents in jail for arson and child neglect, gaining her brother’s full custody and whatever money was left from the insurance payment.

By Eddie’s request, the two siblings moved to California in 2011 where she met a young musician called Dillon Wolfe. The couple fell in love shortly after. Six years later, they were getting married, Eddie being the person walking Adelaide down the aisle.

The little Wolfe-Atkins family moved to New York in 2018.

After working as a waitress/bartender/cook/whatever she could get to make a living for her and Eddie throughout her life, Addie got a letter from the Savoy family one day with the news that her grandfather had died and had left behind a trust fund for her, enough money for the two siblings to live off comfortably for the rest of their lives. However, the oldest decided to only use enough to buy a nice house for the two of them and to open a modest, lovely b&b, their major source of income and save the rest as the family wasn’t in dire need for money anymore.

She and Eddy don’t really talk about their past a lot, unless any of the parts truly trust the person they tell their story to.

p e r s o n a l i t y

Most days, Addie is one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet, the kind of girl who smiles at everyone she meets and greets strangers with a smile on the daily. She likes making people around her happy. She thrives when people around her shine.

However, she can be very closed off and go as far as to be very deceitful? I mean, she is sharp, even though people don’t think she is because they write her off as a “southern belle” type, but what most people don’t know is she can be cunning whenever she sets her mind on it, she learned from a very young age how to take advantage of everything she had to get what she had her mind settled on.

The one thing she cares the most about in the world is her brother, Eddie. The boy is pretty much her own and has been since the day he was born, she would stop at nothing to make sure he is fine and he is happy.

Her hobbies include painting and sculpting (which she makes some money off of), gardening (the Atkins sibling’s home is a glorified zen garden by now) and designing (she sometimes uses this skill to make clothes for selling to friends and acquaintances).

Loyal to no end, good god. It takes a lot for her to feel comfortable with someone to call them her friend but once she does, she is the most loyal friend. Also the mom friend, no matter how close you are. If it’s even a little bit chilly outside and she sees a stranger shivering she WILL give them her sweater, has medicine and candy on her at all times.

She can be quite impetuous and extremely curious to the verge of being noisy, but never in a malicious way, unless you mess with someone she cares about.

Whatever you throw her way, she’ll land on her feet.

P L O T S

Best friend: Either the best friend who help the Atkins while the lived in Georgia (preferably) or a new friendship they’ve built in the years they’ve been in New york Addie would be nothing without this person. She trusts them more than her own shadow and would kill for them in a heartbeat.

Foreign cousins: Maybe someone seeking vengeance because of what Addie’s father did to the family? Maybe they don’t even know they are related, everyone loves having someone you can tell “well, now i know where the craziness comes from”.

Muse: Whenever she’s stressed or just… inspiration strikes, Addie calls this person to either use them as a model or a canvass. She has every line of their body engraved on her memory and she still finds them fascinating and could spend hours painting them. We can discuss what shape this plot could potentially take.

People she works for: Either her art or the clothes she makes, I’d love to write about any of those.

Friends, enemies, neighbours… just love my baby, she and Eddie will love you back!

so if you read that whole mess ily sm <3 if you wanna plot w/ us please shmash that lke button and i’ll come to you at some point of the day when i don’t feel like crying because everything.hurts. (i’m v sick. like... dehydrated type of sick BUT I’M TRYING NOT TO THINK ABOUT THAT RN)

#villageintro #like for plots maybe?

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addiewolfe · 3 years

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Have you seen ADELAIDE 'ADDIE' WOLFE ? This TWENTY-NINE year old is a B&B OWNER who resides in BROOKLYN. SHE has been living in NYC for TWO YEARS, and is known to be RESILIENT and ALLOCENTRIC, but can also be DECEITFUL and TACITURN, if you cross them. People tend to associate them with PAINT-STAINED OVERALLS and OLD AND RUSTY SEWING MACHINES.

tw: child neglect, arson. // @codstarters

hello fellow children, here’s g with yet another character for y’all: soft and nice edition. i am here to introduce you all to my pride and joy, adelaide:

H I S T O R Y

Adelaide Atkins Savoy is the daughter of Edward Atkins, an English salesman/conman and Ann Savoy, a French teacher that came from a (somewhat) noble family.

The little Wolfe-Atkins family moved to New York in 2018.

She and Eddy don’t really talk about their past a lot, unless any of the parts truly trust the person they tell their story to.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

She can be quite impetuous and extremely curious to the verge of being noisy, but never in a malicious way, unless you mess with someone she cares about.

Whatever you throw her way, she’ll land on her feet.

P L O T S (*will be a wc on main)

Best friend*: Either the best friend who help the Atkins while the lived in Georgia (preferably) or a new friendship they’ve built in the years they’ve been in New york Addie would be nothing without this person. She trusts them more than her own shadow and would kill for them in a heartbeat.

People she works for: Either her art or the clothes she makes, I’d love to write about any of those.

Friends, enemies, neighbours… just love my baby, she and Eddie will love you back!

Okay, wow, if you made it through… honestly bless you and you deserve a freaking award. if you read this mess and you still wanna plot, hmu or like this post and i’ll come to you!

#codintro #child abuse tw #arson tw #like for plots???

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danniburgh · 4 years

Text

meant to be

honestly just a way to cope, it's just a drabble I shared with my friends, no real structure or nice narrative, time skips are really my thing

March 17th, 2007

there's you: a 17 year old exchange student in Royal college in London, you have two friends and roommates, Ezra, who is french, and Jen, who is Irish, it's noon, the three of you are getting drunk in the dorm you share and Jen wants to do something for St Patrick's, because she's Irish and because she was forced to also celebrate things for your traditional patriotic festivities (you're not British or Irish), Ezra and you laugh it off but Jen convinces the two of you to sober up, grab your car and drive all the way from London to Liverpool to then grab a ferry to Dublin.

almost an entire day later you arrive and in your avid need of party and celebration (also booze) you go to a few bars, Jen assures you that nobody will ask for your id because it's national day of getting drunk and you binge drink for a while.

the three of you go to a little bar on the end of a little street and get weirded out because it had like six dudes siting on a table and nothing else, the dudes notice you and let you in and they make you sit with them and then you realize it's a birthday party, and the birthday boy is just sitting there like trying to hide, you do shots with them and Ezra tries to teach the birthday boy to drink whiskey until you stop him and to avoid Ezra near the guy you sit next to him, you start small talking because that's what you do when you're drunk and you two start speaking about music, movies, the weirdness of the new decade, your backgrounds, and the fact that there's a language you know but as you were very drunk you've forgotten, he wants to smoke outside and you go with him, not because you also smoke but because you like the company, you laugh outside at the guys on the street that are also drunk and then he asks you, very very stuttery to kiss you, you accept and you make out a bit, at this moment hours had passed and Jen realises you've been awake for a full day, so she tries to sober up a little and drag Ezra and you to the car so she can drive to her cousin's house where you're gonna stay until you can drive back to London. you had the chance to say goodbye to the birthday boy, one of his friends even took a picture, but when you were on your way from Liverpool to London you realized you didn't ask for his number, and neither gave him yours.

April, 2014

there's you again: driving your car in some road in London, where you stayed, because when you were 19 you wrote a teen adult novel that sold really well and people wanted more, so you became a writer and life passed by fast, you turn on the radio and there's this show you never listen on BBC radio but for a weird impulse you don't change stations, the host of the show is introducing this new artist who had come all the way from Dublin with a hit song and a debut album coming, you listen to the voice introducing itself and involuntarily smile, because it's soft and nice and it reminds you of something, you keep listening to the interview and then the host asks him for the most random and cool thing that has happened to him before his song became a chart favourite: the guy starts laughing a little and starts telling about his seventeenth birthday party, he told how his brother made him and his friends go to a bar in the middle of Dublin and how he wasn't really enjoying it until a random trio of teens crashed at it and started lifting up the party, he told how back then he thought they were just lost because it was st Patrick's day but how by the time they were gone he was thankful because he felt better about life. you were speechless, completely astonished and out of breath, you tried to reassure yourself because of much of a fucking coincidence would that be. so you parked the car on the side of the road and took your phone out, waited for the host of the show to give out the number and then dialed it. you felt completely crazy but it was because after all those years you never stopped thinking about that tall Irish kid with the wavy hair and the glasses and the nice voice and the beautiful eyes, you couldn't believe he was now some kind of amazing singer and the odds of you finding him were quite short, but you still dialed the number. somebody picked up and the first thing you said was: i was one of the three teens that crashed Hozier's seventeenth birthday party

your call never went on the air, but by some sort of luck, they kept you until the interview was done, the person on the phone first put you with the interviewer, he asked you some details about the thing and then Hozier wanted to speak to you, he said hi, and you said hi, then you both went silent for a minute.

–my name is Andrew

—I imagined a more Irish name –you said, he chuckled

—were you listening? –he asked

—yeah, I never listen to this show but idunno, something made me keep listening

—I'm glad –he responded, you smiled widely and then you said something you didn't know how else to say

—you wanna meet up?

and he said yes, the two of you arranged a meeting, something that you didn't want to call a date, but felt like it.

you went, he asked for it to be at his own hotels bar, mostly because he didn't had much time, you arrived quite early and got a table, a few minutes later he was there, you saw him: obviously older, a little bit taller, his hair was beautifully longer, his body skinnier, his eyes were still gorgeous but wiser, he said hi and his voice was even more soothing than the last time, he sat and you smiled, he was still shy.

you started talking as if you never stopped, at some point he pulled out his phone and showed you a photo, there was you and him in the middle, he hugging your seventeen year old self with one arms, Ezra talking with his brother in the background and Jen's hand on the edge, you laughed so hard at both of your face expressions and then he invited you to one of his gigs the next day, so you could listen to his music and spend a little more time with him, as he was then headed overseas to start a tour for a few months, you said yes, you completely wanted to spend time with him, you liked him, you really did.

before you two had to say goodbye again, he told you he wanted to be with you, he asked you for a kiss and then asked you for your number, he assured you this time the goodbye was just for a few months

December, 2014

—did you miss me? –you heard a voice behind you, you turned and saw him, a little tanned but still him, after months of only speaking to him over the phone, you had him again, at least for a couple of weeks.

that time you spent almost every second together, he introduced you to his parents and his dog and his close friends, he told you about him wanting to get a place of his own and you told him about your book, you felt right next to him, you felt completely right.

May, 2019

—happy anniversary –he said, handing you a little box, you smiled at him, made him bend over a little to kiss him and opened the box, it was a ring, you looked at him and he smiled at you, nervous, anxious, happy

—honestly, took you long enough –you said, he laughed and grabbed the box to put the ring on your finger

—not so long, only five years

April, 2020

you opened your eyes, you felt a little light headed, you sat on the bed and found it empty, for a moment you felt sad until you looked directly in front of your bed, there was your bride gown, it's finally your wedding, after almost another year of planing and after six years from the two of you encountering again, and after thirteen years of your first kiss, you were finally marrying the love of your life. and it felt completely right.

#hozier imagine #hozier fanfic #hozier tag #andrew hozier byrne #hozier #hozier post #hozier fandom #hozier x reader #im sorry #i had this idea for so long #thanks for coming to my ted talk

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romansleftshoulderpad · 4 years

Text

Sweet Dreams are Made of This

Another continuation of the WCBI AU! Just wanted to write a small one-shot of them being teenagers for once. :D

(Reading the Origins arc is not required to understand this fic outside of one or two sentences)

Words: 3,048

Warnings: NSFW mentions, copious amounts of making out, allusion to the crusades, mentions of neutering, killing mention (in the form of jokes)

Ships: Romantic Remile, Platonic NaRemile, platonic LAMP

Tags: @fandermom @patchworkofstars @poisonedapples @hogwarts-my-love @opaque-puppet @omni-hamiltrash @darling-elm @jynxlovesluck @madly-handsome @strickenwithclairvoyance @limitededitionsanderssidesblog @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @ab-artist @sometimeswritingsometimesdying @because-were-fam-ily @gattonero17 @analogical-mess @joaniejustwokeup @whycantihavemorethan32characters

---

Remy walked into school with an old pair of fleece space pants he had stolen from Logan and a night mask with the words “Lights Out” painted on sitting on top of his head. He always claimed to participate in school dress-up days out of irony, but anyone who knew him well knew better.

He smiled as Emile stepped out of the car next to him, dressed head to toe in a Stitch onesie with matching blue Converse. His heart melted as he took in the sight of his boyfriend. “Aloha,” he teased, stepping closer and greeting his boyfriend with a gentle kiss.

“No PDA in the parking lot!” Narcissa yelled, interrupting their moment. Emile giggled as Remy kissing him again while flipping her off. “You two are disgusting.”

“Disgustingly cute maybe,” Remy said with a wink. He looked up and down at her Falling in Reverse pajamas. “Has anyone told you punk is dead?”

“Has anyone told you that I don’t give a shit?” she asked with a smile as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, showing off the multitude of piercings she wore. “Plus, Roman roped me into this whole thing. I’m sure he’s running late in an Olaf onesie somewhere.”

The trio walked through the school gate. “I’m sure he’s already in the chorus room,” Remy said. “God knows he loves to be early.”

Narcissa groaned. “Remember when he made us get up at six for a chorus concert?”

“I have never wanted to kill him more than I had at that moment.”

“I’m the only thing stopping you two from killing each other,” Narcissa bragged with a laugh.

“Only because you’re going to kill one of them first,” Emile laughed. “Now, of course, I’d never tell you to bring harm to Roman, I’d just like to suggest you keep my boyfriend alive.”

Narcissa laughed as she looked Remy up and down as if scanning him. She winked at Emile. “No promises.”

Emile pouted and Remy swooped in with a quick kiss. It was hardly a matter of seconds before they were back to making out. Narcissa took her water bottle out of her bag and poured some of the ice-cold contents on Remy’s head.

“YOU BITCH!” he screamed, jumping back as his white shirt became halfway soaked.

“We’re getting you neutered after school.”

“I should get going,” Emile laughed, mostly dry. “I’ll see you at lunch.” He blew a kiss towards Remy and skipped off towards the science building.

Narcissa took a sip of water with a smirk. “Ah. How refreshing.” Remy punched her in the arm.

+++

Virgil always loved to go all out for pajama day, so it was no surprise to see him in plaid pajamas with slippers and a bathrobe on. It was, however, surprising to see Logan sitting in a Batman onesie.

Virgil wolf-whistled as he sat down. “Didn’t take you for the vigilante type.”

“I’ll have you know, Bruce Wayne is a brilliant deceive.”

“And?”

Logan sighed, mumbling, “And my English teacher gives extra credit to anyone who participates.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Virgil laughed affectionately. “Princey will never let you live this down.”

Logan sighed, hitting his head against the desk. “I’m well aware.”

+++

Patton had grown used to eating lunches alone. He wasn’t particularly upset about it, in fact, he found the time alone to be peaceful. So it was quite a surprise when Emile grabbed his hand and ran with him to a crowded lunch table.

“I’m not letting my best friend eat alone on this momentous holiday,” he proclaimed.

“It’s... it’s not a holiday,” Patton stammered but no argument could stop Emile from sitting Patton down between himself and Roman.

“Are those Christmas Pajamas?” Logan asked, scanning him with knitted eyebrows.

“It’s never too early to celebrate Christmas!” Roman said, fully clad in a Pikachu onesie.

“Halloween was last week,” Virgil and Logan both argued.

“And then Christmas!” Roman yelled.

“Forgetting something there, babe?”

“In this house, we don’t stan Thanksgiving,” Narcissa said, biting into a slice of pizza.

Logan looked at her for a long second before taking a sip of Virgil’s soda. “I will never understand today’s youth.”

“You’re seventeen. And a coke stealing thot.”

“I’m the thot here?” Logan asked, pointing at Emile and Remy. Emile was sitting on Remy’s lap, legs around his waist as they made out.

Roman gagged, covering Patton’s eyes with his hand. “That’s practically foreplay.”

“I’m calling the vet,” Narcissa said, her phone held to her ear. “Getting this horny bitch neutered.”

“Who wants my cousins dick?” Virgil teased. “EMILE PICANI, YOU PERV, PUT YOUR HAND DOWN!”

“You’re corrupting the innocent child,” Roman scolded.

“I’m fifteen.”

“Exactly. You are small like baby.”

“You’re only three years older than me.”

“Three cold and hardening years,” he said pressing a hand to his chest and moving his forearm to his forehead dramatically. “You’ll understand when you’re my age. You’re basically a sixth-grader.”

“I’m a tenth grader.”

“Being an asshole to Sophomores,” Logan laughed. “Another thing you’ll understand when you’re his age.”

“I thought Juniors are the ones who are supposed to be mean to Sophomores.”

“No, no, no,” Virgil said. “Juniors hate freshman.”

“This is exhausting,” Patton groaned.

“You know what’s not exhausting?” Narcissa asked, jumping up onto the bench. “Going to a party at my house.”

Patton, Logan, Roman, and Virgil all exchanged glances. Virgil pulled his bathrobe down over his arms as Patton ghosted his fingers over his eye.

“How many people?” Roman asked.

“Just us,” Narcissa said. “I’ll give rides to anyone who needs it.”

“My mom doesn’t let me ride with student drivers,” Patton said sadly.

Narcissa nudged his foot and winked. “She doesn’t need to know.”

“What’s your plan for dealing with He Who Shall Not Be Named and his dreidel?” Virgil asked.

“If anyone gets a boner I’m kicking them out,” she said. “And I mean anyone. Logan gets a boner? They’re out.”

“Dreidel,” Roman laughed. “I just got that.”

“My house, after school. I’ll get Dad to order some pizzas.”

“Pizza from Papa Draco,” Roman said.

“If you call him that tonight, I will kill you.”

“Logan, write my will.”

+++

Patton didn’t like lying to his mom. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie he was at a friend’s house after all, but he wasn’t truthful about the reasons why. He hated lying, but he didn’t want this to be the first trial of whether or not his powers work over the phone. He sat in the back of Narcissa’s car with Virgil while Logan sat in the front.

“So, Patton,” Narcissa said, “house rules are simple. Don’t swear too loudly and try not to spill anything on the carpet. Oh- especially nothing purple. Remy spilt grape juice once and he was banned for a month.”

“True story,” Virgil verified. “He wouldn’t stop pouting about it. You would have thought he was banned from seeing you or something.”

“Was this the legendary Draco party I keep hearing about but never get details on?” Logan asked.

“It’s one thing Remy and I have in common,” she teased. “What happens at our parties, stay at our parties.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No,” Narcissa said.

“Yes,” Virgil replied.

Patton felt a knot twist in his stomach and sink into him like an anchor. This was going to be a long night...

All three cars arrived at roughly the same time, allowing the group to follow Narcissa as she unlocked the front door. “Dad! I’m home!” she yelled. “And I even brought all my male whores with me!”

“Don’t get pregnant!” he yelled back from somewhere deep within the house. “Pizza’s on the stove!”

“Aww fuck yeah,” she said, grabbing a box. “Thot, Hoe, you grab the other two.”

Patton stood in mild surprise as Remy and Emile immediately followed suit. Then he remembered lunch and was less shocked. He followed everyone upstairs towards a door painted black.

Narcissa’s room was just about what Patton expected from a friend of Roman’s who wore all black and probably ten earrings at a time. The walls were painted black and dark blue. However what he did not expect was a large blue, pink, and white flag covering most of the wall above her bed. Patton smiled and Narcissa nudged his shoulder, “Got a demisexual one for Roman for Christmas. I can send you the link to the Etsy shop I use if you want some pride shit. You’d look cute with a rainbow lapel pin.”

Patton laughed, settling between her and Virgil as all of them took a seat around a circular purple rug on her wood floors. Emile passed around paper plates and they all started grabbing slices of pizza.

“Let’s play a game,” Remy suggested with a sly smirk. “Spin the bottle?”

“I think we’ve seen enough kissing for one lifetime,” Logan said. Roman stuck his finger down his throat and gagged.

“Good old fashioned game of truth or dare?” Virgil suggested. “Think of it as a housewarming for Patton.”

“Oh boy.”

“Oh boy, indeed,” Logan laughed, a sly grin growing upon his face. “I’ll go first-“

“Nope!” Remy yelled. “Roman! Truth or dare!”

“I was going to ask first!” Logan protested.

“House rules,” Remy said, “he who wears the leather jacket goes first!”

“He who shall go fuck himself,” Logan murmured earning a laugh from Virgil.

“Truth,” Roman said.

“Who was the last person you had a crush on?” Remy asked with an innocent smile but devil eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

Roman glared daggers at him. “Jon Cozart. Patton, truth or dare?”

“That’s a lie!”

“Prove it,” he said through clenched teeth. “Patton, truth or dare.” Roman never took his eyes off of Remy and Narcissa.

“Uh, truth,” Patton mumbled weakly.

“I dare you to kick Remy’s ass.”

“He said ‘truth’, Roman,” Emile said sternly.

“Fine. What’s your favorite color?”

Patton fidgeted with his sleeves. “Blue. Emile, truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Emile said, leaning into Remy’s side.

Patton swore under his breath as he tried to think of something but his mind was drawing a blank. Virgil tapped his knee, prompting Patton to lean into him. He whispered something causing both of them to laugh. “I dare you to stop making out with Remy for an hour.”

Emile rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone. “Once this timer is over I’m sucking his dick in front of every single one of you.”

Narcissa threw a pizza crust at him. “I’m neutering both of you.”

Roman rolled a water bottle towards him. “Since you wanna be so fucking thirsty.”

Emile gave a hand gesture that Patton was honestly surprised to see from his best friend. (How well did he actually know anyone here?) “Narcissa, truth or dare?”

She bit into a piece of pizza contemplatively. “Dare.”

“Exchange an article of clothing with someone of your choice.”

“Virgil, hand over your hoodie,” she demanded. As Virgil sighed and took off his jacket, she made quick work of taking off her bra from under her shirt. She threw it at Virgil and snatched his hoodie within the same second.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said. “I’m not putting this on.”

“Virgil, truth or dare?” she asked.

“Tru-“

“I dare you to put the bra on.”

“I picked truth.”

“Hmmm, I don’t think you did,” Narcissa said with an innocent smile, pulling up the hood of Virgil’s jacket.

“Sounded like dare to me,” Remy said.

“He said dare,” Roman confirmed with a smirk.

“Princey,” Virgil said as he took off his shirt, “you are fucking dead to me.” Remy took careful note of the eyes raking over every inch of Virgil’s skin as he struggled with the bra.

“Do you need help?” Patton asked.

“No- No, I got- I can do this- I-“ Virgil sighed. “I need help.”

Patton rolled his eyes and did the clasp in one easy move, handing Virgil his shirt to put back on. “Not that hard.”

“Oh-Em-Gee, you know what this means?” Remy asked loudly with a look of false shock. Patton’s eyes went wide and his heart started racing. “Patton’s a fucking wizard.” He relaxed slightly but Narcissa made sure to take his hand where no one could see as she rubbed gentle circles against his skin.

“This wire is a bitch,” Virgil said.

“You’re a bitch,” Narcissa corrected.

And so the game continued into the night. Some small secrets revealed and many ridiculous dares completed. When an alarm went off on Emile’s phone everyone groaned loudly. He gave Remy a gentle peck on the cheek and they continued playing.

“Who wants to stay the night?” Narcissa asked with a yawn. Roman and Virgil both quickly volunteered while everyone else gave regretful glances. Patton sunk in on himself slightly.

“I, uh, need a ride home,” Patton said quietly.

“You live by Emile, right?” He nodded. “Cool, I can drive you.”

“If I may be at your mercy as well-“

“Yes, Logan, I’ll drive you home. If you don’t mind stopping by my place for a few minutes first. I need your input on something.”

“Oh?” Emile asked curiously.

“You’re not getting anything out of me,” Remy stated.

Emile moved closer, putting his hand on Remy’s knee and slowly dragging his fingers towards his hip. “Anything?” Emile asked innocently, pressing his body against Remy’s.

Narcissa pointed at Remy’s dick. “If that gets hard I swear to fuck I’m banning you from my house again.”

“We’ll have more fun at my house anyway,” Remy said with a smirk.

Virgil put his hands over his ears. “LA LA LA I DON’T HEAR ANYTHING NOPE NOTHING IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW.”

“Oh please,” Remy groaned. “You’re not the only one here who has to deal with people in this room wanting to suck your cousin’s dick.”

“Patton,” Narcissa said. “Can you help me bring the boxes downstairs?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he uttered, grabbing two empty boxes into his arms. Once they were in the kitchen, Narcissa put the boxes on the stove and gently laid a hand on Patton’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I saw Remy get under your skin a little- he doesn’t mean anything by it, I’m sure he doesn’t even know.”

“Remy’s... fine,” Patton said. “I’m just a little paranoid.”

“And that’s okay,” she said. “But I want you to know you’re safe here. Obviously, no one is going to ask you to disclose that information, but if you ever did, you’re one of us now and that means we’re going to support you. All of us.”

“How did you, you know, talk to them about it?” Patton asked shyly.

Narcissa smiled, soft and genuine. It was the first time Patton saw her as anything other than another scary upperclassman. “I know I give Remy a lot of shit but, if not for him and Roman, I don’t know if I ever would have come out. But they helped me,” she explained. “Remy’s easy. He makes it all seem so effortless, you know, using the right name and pronouns.”

“And Roman?” he asked nervously.

“Roman helped make me who I am. He’s the reason I stayed in chorus. He’s the reason I came out to my parents and why I get to be myself today.” Her smile grew a bit brighter. “I’d do anything for him.” She leaned in closer to him and whispered, “Plus, it was nice knowing Roman’s charm had no ulterior motivation.”

“Motivation?” Patton asked.

Narcissa grabbed the boxes from the stove and winked at Remy who stood at the base of the stairs. “I think that’s a story for another party,” she teased. “Preferably one with more alcohol.”

“Um, yeah,” Patton mumbled.

“Almost ready?” Remy called out.

“Emile’s a lucky guy,” was all she said. “Goodnight, Patton.”

Patton was faced with the familiar feeling of reading a new book, gears turning as the reader is faced with unfamiliar worlds and characters. Narcissa was something far greater than a new protagonist; she was something mysterious and fantastical, a great dragon hiding far from the edge of the kingdom.

He got into Remy’s car, sitting in the back with Logan. It was a silent drive, Remy preferring to have the radio off to stay focused on the road, with only the sound of the wind coming from the small way Emile’s window was cracked open and the gentle tapping of Logan’s fingers against his book bag. Patton held his bag to his chest, growing desperate to take off his binder. It was calming and peaceful, a state of tranquility men have killed to achieve.

When they pulled in to Emile’s driveway, Remy walked him to the front door. Patton and Logan watched in silence as the two lovers held hands tightly and pressed a gentle kiss to each other’s lips. It wasn’t as passionate and hungry as they usually were in public and Patton almost felt awful for looking, yet the tender moments of domesticity are what draw us in and capture our hearts. Patton couldn’t look away until they were once more two separate individuals.

“I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other,” Logan said stoically.

“That’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

Logan let out a laugh, but no joy or humor, and twisted his face in such a way that was unreadable in the shadows of the car. “Friends,” Logan repeated. Patton felt a tug at his heart that he couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was he was feeling, he certainly wasn’t a fan. “It’s... nice, I suppose, all four of us being in the same room with no powers or arcane beings to worry about.”

“Oh! Speaking of, Morality-”

Logan pressed a finger to Patton’s lips to silence him. “I was just commenting on how nice this break is. Please do not disrupt that, this is not the time for us to be heroes.”

“Right,” Patton said. “Sorry, Logan.”

Remy and Emile met for one final kiss as Emile unlocked his front door with his free hand. They said their goodbyes and goodnight wishes as Emile disappeared behind the door.

“Do not apologize, Patton,” he instructed.

Remy got back into the car and the rest of the evening was silent, peaceful. The rest of the evening was what men kill for.

#We Could Be Immortals #Sanders sides fic #Platonic lamp #Remile #Romantic Remile

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brideofedoras · 4 years

Text

The Loft: Redemption

Disclaimer: the usual

Word count: 2400+

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse.

Rating: 18+

Chapter 4

"Kenna, what am I going to do?" Sam curled up on her cousin's sofa with a half pint of cheesecake brownie surprise ice cream.

Kenna grabbed a spoon and dug into her monster cookie ice cream. "My heart is yelling at me to kick your ass for even thinking of your boss like that," she admitted after taking a bite of her dessert. "But my brain is telling me you've reached the next step in your healing process."

Sam shoved her spoon into the chocolate dessert she held. "Ten years, Ken... Ten years and I'm still processing, I'm still healing."

"Everyone heals at their own pace," her cousin reached over to rub the brunette's shoulder. "Maybe..."

She shook her head. "Nope, not going back to therapy," she toyed with the spoon. "It's bad enough I missed a day and a half of work, I'm not about to dive right back in and miss an hour or two a week. I really don't want to have to explain to Mr. Stevens why I'm needing a longer lunch, or even lie about it. That man has a serious Bullshit Radar."

Kenna snorted. "Considering his pa--"

Sam held up her hand to stop her cousin. "Don't go there, Ken," she warned softly. "And don't even try to compare his past indiscretions to what Terrance did to me. He's nothing like that monster. I was not a willing participant."

"No, you weren't," the blonde set her ice cream on the coffee table and leaned over to hug the other woman. "I just don't want to see you hurt, Sam."

Sam nodded as she leaned into her cousin's embrace. "I just want to feel normal," her voice was muffled in Kenna's shoulder. "I don't want to be frightened of being turned on by a wink or a smile or the way he loosens his tie and rolls up his sleeves. I don't want to wake up crying from a dream about him." She pulled back to wipe at the tears burning her eyes. "I don't want to be afraid of how I feel for him, Ken. But I can't... I don't know what to do."

"First, we're going to eat our ice cream before it melts," Kenna squeezed her shoulders. "Tomorrow we'll get our hair done, get a tattoo," she grinned when Sam perked up. "Ink therapy helps. Maybe a new outfit or two for work."

Sam pursed her lips at that. "Not sure how that'll help."

"New outfits make us feel better," she shrugged. "But there is one thing that might work, if you're willing to give it a go."

The brunette looked up from her ice cream. "What? Ken, this better not be something crazy like getting body parts pierced."

Kenna chuckled, scrunching up her face. "Nope, no way in hell. Just my ears and nose. No," she sobered up. "My boss' sister runs a support group out of her basement on Saturday afternoons for warriors. I'd really like to take you to a meeting. Just one, if you don't think it's the right fit for you, no pressure to keep going back."

Sam frowned at her. "I don't do group therapy."

"It's not actually therapy, just a group of people who've been through a similar hell sharing their experiences and helping each other. I've gone a couple of times just to get a feel for it, they're a great group. Just give it a shot, one shot, and if you don't like it I won't bring it up again," Kenna turned back to her ice cream. "Dammit, now I want cream cheese brownies."

Sam giggled. "I know a great bakery, we can swing by tomorrow. I need to place an order for a meeting on Tuesday anyway."

"You really love your job," the blonde smiled. "Or you're just a workaholic."

She grinned. "Not a workaholic, I really do love my job. I'm happy there."

"That's all that matters," Kenna said before popping another spoonful of her ice cream into her mouth. "So, are we on for tomorrow?"

Sam nodded. "Yes."

September 25, 2016-- Kenna talked me into going to a support group meeting this afternoon. I didn't want to go but at the same time I'm sick and tired of losing sleep over nightmares and strange dreams about Vincent. I didn't talk at the meeting, I just sat back and observed and listened. There were two girls and a boy in the group. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years old. The ages I'd been when...

It was all I could do to keep it together, to not cry or scream or rage. The others in the group shared their recent nightmares, their fears, their dreams. One felt like she was ready to move on and take that next step with her boyfriend, but was scared to death at the same time. She talked about how she chickened out several times going to Victoria's Secret until her sister offered to go with her.

I know deep down that this is something I need to do for myself but I don't think I can rehash everything all over again. Maybe I'll go again, since they meet on Saturday afternoons. It's an odd time to meet, I guess. It makes sense, it's not interfering with work or extracurricular activities, and it's early enough in the afternoon that it doesn't interfere with any family time.

I just want my life back. I just want to be able to go somewhere and not be afraid of a man looking at me or commenting on my looks. I want to be able to have the guts to stand up for myself at a work meeting (I haven't had to worry about that since that first one, Vincent put them in their places for questioning my knowledge). I want to be able to look a man in the eye and not want to throw up if I see something that scares me. I want to be able to wake up from a dream and not cry because it was a good dream. The kind of dream women should be happy to have. Even if that dream is about their boss. Like the dreams I've been having of Vincent ever since Tuesday when he brought me home.

I'm scared of what those dreams mean. I started to keep a separate journal just for those dreams. They scare me, they unsettle me, but they are nothing like the nightmares of what I had survived. These dreams, the ones about Vincent, leave me feeling torn in two. A simple touch of his hand at the small of my back when he walks me to my car at the end of the day. The stroke of his fingers against mine when he takes something I'm handing him. A hand on my shoulder when I'm pointing something out on a blueprint and he's leaning over me to take a look. Last night the dream was different. Very different. We were laying on the couch in his office, him leaning over me. He had my hand in his, resting over my heart and he was brushing his free hand over my hair and looking into my eyes with the softest eyes I've ever seen. The thing that stood out the most about the dream was his bare shoulders and the blanket over us. Yet nothing happened in the dream.

I was happy in that dream, too. I think that's what scared me the most about it. Feeling happy and safe in the dream and waking up crying because it was just a dream. Then freaking out because it was about my boss. I don't know what to do...

Sam frowned as she drummed her fingers lightly over the keyboard. "Mr. Stevens?"

"You know you can call me Vincent," he responded.

She leaned forward so she could look through his door. "I have an email from a Douglas Anderson regarding a meeting at one, but there's nothing on the schedule until Thursday." She saw his shoulders stiffen before he slowly turned to look at her.

"Sonofabitch, I forgot to put it on the calendar," he groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I scheduled it Tuesday afternoon. Lunch meeting. God dammit," he shoved his fingers through his hair. "There's no time to reschedule, I've got site visits this week and I need to get that damned blueprint done--"

"You won't need to reschedule," Sam pushed away from her desk and walked to the doorway separating their spaces. "How many people are you expecting?"

"Six. I don't have anything ready, Monroe," he sighed heavily. "No reports, no outline, nothing."

"Give me something to work with, Mr-- Vincent," she braced her hand on the door frame. "I'll call in an order to the sub shop and the bakery now and get the conference room set up. Once you get me the information I need I'll get the packets put together." She walked into his office and picked up his coffee mug. "You need a break from your design, you've been grumbling over it for an hour and your coffee is cold."

"There's not enough time, Monroe," he watched her as she headed to the bathroom to pour out the cold coffee and rinse the cup. "There's no way--"

She leveled a glare at him from the bathroom door. "I'll have you know I've pulled miracles out of thin air before, Mr. Stevens. We will be ready in time for that meeting." She made quick work of fixing a fresh cup of coffee the way he liked it before fetching the emergency bottle of bourbon from the cabinet behind her desk. She hesitated before pouring a couple of fingers of the liquor. Sam glanced toward Vincent's office.

He sat at his desk, head in his hands. "I never should've taken you home that day, I thought I could handle it but clearly I can't," he griped to himself. "Couldn't concentrate once I got back because it was too damned quiet in here without your music."

Sam shook her head as she grabbed a paper plate and dished up a cinnamon sugar sprinkled donut. Armed with the coffee and the treat she returned to Vincent's office. "I was actually pretty worthless Tuesday afternoon," she admitted as she set the food and drink on his desk. "I tried to do some work on the laptop and wound up falling asleep."

"I figured you would," he looked at the donut. "I had one earlier."

"Yes, key word being earlier," she nodded. "Eat up."

He chuckled. "Do me a favor, will ya, Monroe?" He lifted his head when she started toward her office.

Sam stopped at the door and looked over her shoulder. "That all depends on the favor."

"Never quit," his hazel eyes locked with hers. "Don't you ever decide to quit on me."

"I'm not planning on going anywhere," she shook her head. "Someday I hope to do what you do."

"It's not an easy job," he groaned and shot a glare at the drawing table.

"If I wanted an easy job I wouldn't be here," she countered before returning to her desk.

Three hours later Vincent walked into the conference room to find Sam setting out the wrapped sandwiches, bags of chips, and a container of chocolate chip cream cheese brownies. "Need any help?"

She looked over her shoulder with a smile, "Nah, I got it, Boss."

His pulse quickened at the sight of that bright smile. No, Stevens. "What kind of sandwiches did you order?" He tore his eyes from her to focus on setting his laptop up and connect it with the projector.

"BLTs with ham, chicken, turkey or beef. Nothing fancy."

"You order anything for yourself?"

"Not a sandwich person," she grimaced. "Kenna's bringing me Chinese."

His head snapped up. "That's rude. You know I love Chinese," the look he gave her was a cross between a glare and betrayal.

"Don't worry, Vincent, I asked her to order something for you as well," she reached up to pat his shoulder on her way out of the conference room.

He caught her small hand in his when she pulled away. "You're a lifesaver, Monroe, I hope you know that," he murmured when she looked back at him.

A pretty pink blush colored her cheeks. "Just doing my job, Vincent."

He shook his head, taking a small step forward. "A logical choice would have been to push the meeting to another day. You pulled this off with, what, three hours notice. Linda wouldn't have been able to do this, and God knows the others wouldn't have even tried. This... this isn't 'just doing your job', Sam. This was going above and beyond, and I don't know if I can thank you enough for saving my ass." His eyes dropped to her lips when she uttered a soft gasp.

The urge to kiss her nearly overwhelmed him and he forced himself to take a step back and release her hand.

"You don't need to thank me," she slowly pulled her hand back.

"Yes, I do," he shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "I'm serious, Sam."

"You can thank me later," she stepped forward and reached out to take his tie in her hands.

Vincent held his breath when his heart kicked a little harder. When she straightened the knot in his tie he huffed out a nervous laugh.

"Your tie was crooked," she stepped back. "And your hair's a mess. You don't need to give the contractors the wrong idea," she walked out of the room.

He stared after her, stunned silent by that little comment and the sudden barrage of thoughts that flooded his mind. Thoughts he knew better than to have about her.

Was she teasing him? Or was she warning him?

"God, I need to fix this," he muttered before following her into the office. "Sam?"

She turned to face him, her face a brighter pink. "I don't know why I said that," she apologized softly. "I..."

"Don't apologize for teasing me," relief flooded through him when he realized she wasn't warning him, that he hadn't screwed up, that she hadn't read his damned mind. "You shocked me, certainly never expected you to say something like that to me."

She giggled. "I surprised myself," she pulled her chair back and sat down. "I normally don't pop off like that."

He walked into the bathroom to fix his hair. "It's all right, Sam," he chuckled. "I wouldn't let them think anything like that about you anyway."

He doubted anyone would believe that anyway, not when her clothes weren't wrinkled, makeup not smudged, hair not tangled. "Don't go there, Stevens," he warned himself, bracing his hands on the sink and glaring at his reflection. "Don't want to lose her."

#the loft #vincent stevens #karl urban #redemption #slow burn #romance

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nextgensquad · 4 years

Note

Was wondering if Ellie had any ideas for Louis Weasley? Specifically on his love life or job after Hogwarts? Thanks ☺️

Louis still can’t get used to the kinds of questions journalists like to ask. They seem so much intrusive than he feels like they should be allowed to be. It’s been a full year since his first appearance for the Tornadoes, a mad year of fan hysteria and trophies and journalists, and he still feels like none of this belongs to him.

“Relax.” His teammate’s arm wraps around his shoulders, camera-ready smile never faltering. “It’s all good. You’re Louis Weasley, they’re dying to have you here. Just be cool.”

“Yeah,” Louis just about manages, and takes a deep breath. He’s always wondered how Xander makes it all look so easy, like none of this has ever bothered him for a second. He floats through life, untouched, impenetrable.

Louis puts his hands in his pockets and tries to mimic Xander’s easy grin, his confident stance. “Fake it for long enough,” Xander murmurs, removing his arm, “and you’ll end up believing it.”

Louis hopes he’s telling the truth. He holds his grin in place even as it wants to slide off his face, and the first of the journalists is allowed to rush in and take their seat. Soon he and the other four who’ve been dragged to the press conference are facing a bristling forest of up-thrust arms. Team captain Reiner Urquhart squares his shoulders and calls for the first question.

“Louis, are the rumours about a potential transfer to the Appleby Arrows true?”

Louis resists the urge to duck his head. Xander sits back and lays a lazy arm over the back of Louis’ chair, a subtle show of support. Louis has been given the seat at the end of the row, in the vain hope it will remind this roomful of hyenas that other people on this team are worth paying attention to, but he can still feel the sullen irritation of Barnes and Robbins, first-choice Seeker and first-choice Beater, who have never got over Louis’ popularity.

He clears his throat. “Not true at all.”

The journalists persists. “You’ve been linked with them recently.”

“He’s linked with five teams a week, Dorian, give him a break,” parries Xander, fingers tapping. “It’ll be the fucking French next.”

“He is half-French, to be fair,” interrupts Urquhart, and points out another journalist. “Next question.”

“Louis, have you reconciled with your parents yet?”

There’s a hiss of disgust from either Barnes or Robbins. Louis swallows and remembers what Xander said: fake it until you believe it.

“I’d rather not talk about it. Now, Urquhart’s mother, on the other hand—” And he turns, grinning, as Urquhart hollers down the table for him to shut up. That provokes laughter, a subtle easing of tension, and Louis thinks that maybe he’ll get away with it.

“Right, another question,” calls Urquhart over the hubbub, “and ask us something about the team, you arseholes.”

More laughter, and obligingly a young reporter from the Prophet stands up and enquires, “How are the renovations on the training ground going?”

As more questions begin to fly, Louis lets himself breathe out. He gets a few more, but the others jump in for him as often as not, and as soon as it’s obvious that he’s not going to be drawn out on anything personal, they start firing questions at Xander too, their usual favourite subject.

Afterwards, Xander and Urquhart drag him to a quiet pub they like for a debrief.

“Will they fucking give it up,” Louis grouses into his pint, “Jesus. My personal life has nothing to do with them.”

“It’s because they think you’re hiding something.” Xander is drinking a sparkling water, a far cry from the party boy he likes to be in front of the press. “You gotta be an open book like me if you want them to stop prying.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” says Louis untruthfully, and takes another big swallow. “And, anyway, you sure are hiding something. I know about that fifteen-year-old at Hogwarts, remember.”

Xander scowls. “She told me she was seventeen. The amount of make-up she was wearing, good god. How was I supposed to know? How did you even find out?”

“My cousin’s friends with her,” says Louis, and then shuts that train of thought down before it can go any further.

“Lily Potter, right? Jeez. There’s one I wouldn’t mind causing trouble with.”

Even Urquhart nods in solidarity, and Louis has to be very careful not to let his knuckles tighten around his glass.

“That’s my cousin, man.”

Urquhart shrugs, his Guinness halfway to his mouth. “Sure you can still see she’s fit, come on. Like sixty percent of my parents’ friends are married to their cousins. Purebloods, huh?”

“Muggles, too.” Xander sits back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his abs. “My father’s sister married a first cousin. Keep all that wealth in the family.”

“Muggle peers, ” sneers Urquhart, teasing, and Louis bangs his glass down before Xander can take umbrage. He’s funny about his family, Xander, happy enough to remind anyone that he’s the son of a lord, thank you so much, but a real shit when he feels like people are being rude about it.

“Anyway,” Louis says loudly, “that first question – do you think someone sneaked? About the new team?”

“Keep your voice down.” Urquhart is instantly serious, leaning in. “Shit, Weasley, be careful. None of us are out of contract for another year. If the Tornadoes get wind of it—”

“They won’t.” Xander is still lolling, indolent and sure. “The only people that know so far are the ones who stand to benefit. Dobbing us in will leave them worse off than keeping the secret.”

“Nobody’s ever done anything like this before,” agrees Louis, “they’ll never see it coming. It’s been the same thirteen teams since 1674, it’d be suicide to set up a fourteenth.”

“Our kind of suicide.” Xander grins ferally. “Three hundred and fifty years is enough of the same thing. They’ve stagnated, hey? Poaching players off each other, nobody caring enough to think long-term.”

“The Tornadoes Academy—” starts Urquhart, to a snort of derision from Xander.

“Lip-service to the idea, and only because you and I raised such a stink about it. I’m serious. If they want British Quidditch to stay competitive on the world stage, we have to start developing kids. Developing them properly, I mean, not just depending on that particular house at Hogwarts having a decent captain to give them some piecemeal training. Look at Weasley, come on.”

Urquhart does, and Louis frowns back at him. “What about me?”

“I mean, kid, come on, you’re the superstar, but you were not the right choice for a team captain.”

Louis has asked Xander to stop calling him kid a hundred times, and it has not worked yet, but he still gives him the finger. Xander’s only twenty-five, after all, hardly eons older than him.

“Xander, be nice,” says Urquhart, but Louis waves him down.

“Nah, he’s right. I hated being captain. I don’t like being responsible for training or decisions or anything. I just want to be out there flying.”

“And that’s what makes you the best Keeper in two hundred years.” Xander nods sagely. “But that’s the shit thing, isn’t it? Best player means captain at Hogwarts, so you got kids that could be great with development just stagnating because a good player doesn’t necessarily make a good captain, and they miss out on their shot at joining a team – one of thirteen teams, I mean, shit! Where’s the scope for expansion?”

“’Stagnating’ your word of the week or something, Hawkley?” Urquhart asks, and Xander just sighs.

“It’s the right thing. We’re doing the right thing.”

“I’d feel a lot better about it if we were out of contract already. Those lawyers absolutely fucking terrify me.” Louis gives a not-entirely-theatrical shudder. “Thank god for Ben.”

Ben, his sort-of-brother-in-law, who managed to get welcomed to the family despite knocking Victoire up after dating for a single month by making the most of the chaos when Louis quit school out of nowhere to join the Tutshill Tornadoes six months before the end of his final year at Hogwarts. Louis has never regretted the decision, but he regrets the bewildered disappointment it produced in his parents, who will never understand why he couldn’t just finish those final short months before leaving.

How can he ever explain it to them, when the real reason is one he will never even allow himself to think about?

“Is he still going over the contracts?” Urquhart is swirling the dregs of his Guinness around the bottom of the glass. “I’m slightly terrified of what he’ll find.”

“Yeah. He said he’d ring when he’s sure how it’s going to go down.”

“So much paperwork.”

“Well, if we got a backer like I keep saying—” starts Urquhart, and Xander and Louis both lean in.

“We can’t.”

“No, Urquhart, shit,” says Xander over Louis, “come on. You were worried about leaks with just us and Elsa Templar on the in, you want to add some slob-mouthed businessman to the mix?”

“We’re going to need the funding soon.”

“No.” Louis puts both hands down. “My career’s barely started and I’m putting it all on the line for this. We do it safe as we can.”

Xander scoffs. “Your career’s a safe bet, Weasley. You could fuck up beyond all recognition and any team would still commit murder to have you. Us replaceable Chasers, mind—”

“Ah, fuck off.” Urquhart rolls his eyes. “You’re a flashy little bastard but anyone can see how good you are. It’ll be me that takes the rap if this goes wrong, and we all know it. I’m twenty-nine, that’s practically ancient for Quidditch, and there’s rumours of a set of hard-ass little Beaters coming up through Hogwarts right now. But it’s fine.” He holds a hand up to forestall Xander and Louis’ protests. “I made my peace with that when we first started talking about it. That’s why I’m doing it, because I want to leave more of a legacy than just being a decent Tornadoes captain. I want to build something. This is that something.”

“We will do it,” promises Louis, wide-eyed and zealous. “You watch. We’ll smash it. The League’ll never keep us out, not with me and Xander and Templar playing. If they try, if they want us to go and join other teams, then I’ll go play for France and—”

“—I’ll go back to playing polo for my old man,” finishes Xander, grinning. “And we’ll see how well England do without us.”

Urquhart shakes his head at both of them, but he’s smiling, benevolent, proud of these young men he’s built out of nothing.

“Death or glory, then, boys,” he says, and lifts his empty glass. They chink their drinks together, all laughing, and Louis downs the rest of his pint. This is what he joined the Tornadoes for; this is what he listened for when Xander first drew him aside and said, “Right, look, Weasley—”

Like this, the future glowing bright and glorious and full of challenge, it’s the easiest thing to pretend the past never happened, that his heart doesn’t beat broken in his chest, that there wasn’t ever nearly a baby, that he never let it all get out of control. That he is the picture he presents to the world: Quidditch superstar, golden boy, Keeper darling. That this is all there is.

#louis weasley #harry potter next generation #next gen harry potter #next generation #harry potter fanfiction #ours #ellie #writing #thank you so much for this ask!!! i've been thinking about louis a lot lately #as he features very heavily in a lily fic i'm working on off another request #and it was so fun developing his future self for this!!#warwounds

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