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id-rather-be-an-outsider · 1 year

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Then and Now

summary: Mistral remembers her journey from filly to mare, and how she came to find herself.

word count: 2020

a/n: I love Mistral so much! this is a gift to a lovely friend of mine in the BESA community for a trade we’re doing :) iingezo, I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it! If anyone is interested in joining the Bella Sara Discord, you can do that here! If you’d like to join the Bella Sara Amino, that’s right here!

The sun rises, and Mistral yawns as she’s woken up by its warm rays. She remembers this feeling. When she was a tiny filly, taking her first steps and keeping up with her parents only hours later, and when she was a yearling, trying to discover herself. It was always in the summertime. She grazes next to her parents, whickering to them in greeting, just like she does every morning. Her siblings have already taken to the skies to go on their own adventures, but Mistral likes to linger behind to really wake up and get extra time with her parents before joining her siblings.

Her mother and father each come and nuzzle her with their velvety noses, and she sighs happily. She may not be a filly anymore, but she still needs her parents. Not for everything — just for love and comfort.

She decides that her stomach is full from a hearty breakfast of grass and clover and blooms, and whinnies to let her parents know she’s leaving. Today, Mistral’s in the mood for some reminiscing. When she takes off, she goes in the opposite direction of her siblings. This is a journey best made alone. She flies up into the sky, her body floating higher and higher. When she reaches the clouds, all is quiet. They’re golden from the shining sun, and it looks like a snowy field in the golden hour of winter. She can hear her own breathing, and nothing else. She jumps from cloud to cloud, giddy with the weightlessness of everything, and thinks to herself: This is why I come up here every day. But it wasn’t always like that.

She dips down and sees the land below, spotting her desired location. She touches down just outside of the Rolandsgaard Castle, giving her magic a break. She trots down the path that leads past Rolandsgaard and to the Bazaar. Mistral intends to trade something for a nice gift for her mom, since her birthday is coming up. She’s not sure exactly what, but people without magical horses usually ask for some kind of magic to assist them in a laborious task, so she figures her own magic will compensate.

She trips over a jagged rock that sits in the middle of the road, but doesn’t lose her footing. She snorts in irritation, whipping around and kicking the rock off of the path, noting that somebody could get really hurt by it. She remembers her first time walking down this path. She tripped then, too.

She was still a young filly, and was eager to make friends from Herd Bellasara. Her coat was sleek and shimmering, her mane silky smooth, fluttering out behind her in shiny waves. She was so excited, she didn’t notice another rock sitting there just like the recent offender had! She tripped over the rock and fell right on her haunches, and some foals passing by saw everything!

She shakes her head to herself, thinking how silly it is now that she was so embarrassed then. Confidence is key, really — if you do what you mean to do, even in unexpected situations, everything turns out fine.

But the Mistral from that day didn’t know any better. She was so worked up because of tripping and falling that she didn’t even think to brush it off or wait for the foals to see if she was okay — she just turned tail and ran. Ran far, far away, all the way back to her home in the Daybreak Mountains. She was so scared of being recognized for her fall, that she changed her colors from her typical gold and white to black and blue, convinced that no one would recognize her and laugh at her for that mistake ever again. From that day on, for what felt like an eternity, she spent her time doing whatever she could to hide her mistakes.

Mistral sighs to herself as she reflects on that time of her life. She was so insecure then, and all because of what? A little fall that anyone could have had? She feels sorry for the young filly she used to be, and thankful for her mother’s undying love and support during that time. She was so patient, and didn’t try to force her into playing a role she didn’t want. Mistral was lucky, in that regard.

As she nears the Bazaar, she picks up her pace in excitement. She’s almost halfway done with her mission! She increases her speed to a canter, and when she hears the hustle and bustle of the local crowd, she starts scanning the Bazaar for familiar faces. Bryda! She neighs, getting her friend’s attention. A chocolate brown mare looks in Mistral’s direction, throwing her head back in greeting and trotting over to her. Mistral! After greeting each other, Mistral and Bryda walk side by side, checking out the stalls and the different items for sale. Funnily enough, Bryda was one of the foals she saw that day, all those years ago. She was accompanied by Iceprince and Amia, two other foals that Mistral is also now fast friends with in adulthood.

Mistral thought that surely, she would never see those foals again, but she thought wrong, because she met them again when she was a yearling. Her mother had gotten sick, and the only medicine that could cure her ailments was sold in the Bazaar. Mistral took on the journey since her siblings were too young to go by themselves and her father was busy protecting Herd Starlight under authority of the King and Queen. She’d planned to get in and out quickly, but when Amia recognized her, she froze in shock. She hadn’t anticipated running into them ever again, nor had she anticipated someone seeing through her disguise.

Through the telepathy powers all horses in North of North have, Amia asked her why she changed her colors, stating that the white and gold from all that time ago had suited her so well. Flustered, Mistral had confessed that she’d embarrassed herself so badly she’d wanted to hide, and Amia had told her that she always tripped along that road because so many rocks would get kicked up from daily traffic, and not to worry about it — that road was notorious for making humans and horses alike lose their footing. It had comforted Mistral to hear she wasn’t alone, and before she knew it, she had found the medicine her mother needed as well as three new friends!

Mistral finds a stall selling pretty hair clips and finds one decorated in pearls and opals – a perfect complement to her mother’s coat. She sends an image to the mind of the trader, asking what he would like for it, and he smiles at her. “My daughter is here today because her mother’s a bit worn out. Could you show her something magical?”

Mistral nods, and out from behind the trader walks a little girl, no older than two. “Horsie!” She squeals in excitement, running up to Mistral. “Pretty hair!” Mistral nickers at her, lowering her head so the child can grab ahold of her silky locks and run her fingers through them. When the child is focused on examining her hair, Mistral changes the shade to a soft pink, then a purple, then a green. “Woah!” The toddler exclaims, “Magic! More!” She looks up at Mistral with pleading eyes, and Mistral can’t help but think how adorable this child is. She changes her hair to an orange, a blue, and then a soft brown. “More! More!” The child shouts, but her father picks her up, holding her in his arms.

“Alright, honey, I think the pretty horse has a long journey ahead to get home. Why don’t we say goodbye for now?” The child pouts, but the trader says, “Maybe she’ll come back another time. You never know!” And then the child beams with hope.

“Bye-bye horsie!” The little girl waves goodbye with her cute chubby arms, and Mistral whinnies at her to say goodbye. Her and Bryda soon leave, parting ways along the path as Bryda turns to go home. Bryda lives in the territory of Herd Bellasara, so she doesn’t have to travel nearly as far as Mistral does.

As Mistral takes to the sky once more, she admires the colors of the sky, painted rosy by the setting sun. A slight breeze blows flower petals through the air, and they swirl around Mistral. She decides to change a few strands of her mane to match the soft pink cast over the land by the sun, just to test it out. She reaches the border of Herd Starlight’s territory, and as the world turns to dusk, she lands where she spots her mother. Colour looks up at her daughter and smiles, her deep violet eyes looking from the gift to Mistral’s changed hair in interest. New hair?

Mistral walks up to her, rubbing her head against her mother’s cheek in greeting. Just trying it out for a bit. The sky inspired me. Mistral grabs the hair clip, placing it in her mother’s hair and nickering. She sends an image to her. Your birthday gift.

What did you trade for it? Her mother tilts her head.

Mistral shifts through several colors for a few seconds to illustrate, then she sends an image of her memory of the little girl holding her hair, eyes wide with wonder at the display of magic. Her mother smiles, nodding in understanding. Human children are so precious and full of joy – always marveling at the world around them. The horses in North of North often have close relationships with humans of their choosing, lasting a lifetime.

Mistral’s journey home with her mother’s medicine had been a freeing one. For the first time since she’d tripped as a filly, the sky had felt lighter, and Mistral hadn’t felt so heavy. When she got home, her mother had noticed the shift in Mistral’s demeanor. Mistral had recounted her story with enthusiasm, and her mother had questioned her. So, do you want to stay the colors you are?

Mistral had been confused. What do you mean? She looked down at her coat, jet black, and at her billowing mane, midnight blue.

Her mother had explained while taking the medicine. I just don’t want you to live in the past without realizing it. Do what you mean to do. Colour rubbed her head against her daughter’s cheek. I’ll love you just as much either way.

Oh. What her mother said had given Mistral pause, then. Do what you mean to do. Mistral hadn’t thought about how muted her colors were, designed to make her forgettable to everyone she encountered. That day, even after receiving the validation and comfort of her new friends, she still was making an effort to hide herself from the world, even though she didn’t need to. Her friends had already liked her for who she was – she’d never needed to change in the first place. The next day, Mistral woke up and decided to change her colors back to her signature look, and hadn’t let anything shake her sense of self ever since.

Colour whinnies at her daughter, who seems to be deep in thought. When Mistral looks up at her, she tilts her head. What?

What’s wrong? Colour questions.

Mistral shakes her head. Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about my teenage years. I’m glad you loved me through them. She settles in, grazing next to her mother.

Her mother nudges her shoulder lovingly. She shares an image – Mistral as a newborn foal, as a young filly, as a spry yearling, and as the grown mare she is now. The message is clear – I’ve loved you at every stage, my sweet child.

Mistral glances at the hair clip in her mother’s mane. The perfect accessory. She sends her mother an image of the two of them cuddling together when she was tiny, and them doing the same now. So have I, mother.

After all, it’s her mother’s words that inspire her to always do what she means to do.

#outsider writes #fanfic #bella sara #besa #besa mistral #besa colour #besa bryda #coming of age

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sussex-nature-lover · 2 years

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Sunday 29th May 2022

A Week with the Sussex Nature Lovers

♦ please note bold type indicates an outside link

Ms Nature Watch the Younger has had yet another new addition to the family. Not only do they have a new baby and two cats, they now have this older lady reunited with her daddy from overseas. She made the very long journey from Hong Kong and weathered it well. Word is that it’s all good so far. She’s a very docile and placid girl. Luckily the summer’s ahead and that’s always an easier time with babies and animals.

In the garden, part of our hedge is Guelder Rose aka Viburnum Opulus and it’s blooming nicely at the moment - the bees love it.

Bees are having a particularly good time in our garden, because what we lack in flowers, we’re making up for with flowering shrubs, rambling dog rose and the weeds on the lawn from No Mow May. It’s a good year for buttercups, bugle and speedwell, not so much daisies, dandelion or clover right now.

Everything in our garden has grown apace over the last two or three years and we’re having to tame an awful lot of it. This is supposed to be a raised bed, but it’s more of a bank these days. There was once a Sarah Bernhardt peony under there and a pink cistus. I wonder if the peony could be located and brought back again?

This Spirea, variety Bridal Wreath, would be going great guns, but with all those sweet and soft new leaves, someone has other ideas...

Actually, it’s fine as it’s very well established.

Quite a few of my shrubs are being attacked by this new crew of rabbits. Every time I manage to get my chives going again they have a severe haircut by the next morning and there are always a few branches nipped off and discarded. The joys of rural gardens.

My Muscari didn’t even flower AT ALL this year (Boo!) and then suffered this indignity - not happy

We’ve got some spots of colour going. The bright geraniums and contrasting pale lemons and greens and a ruby weigela are a good foil .

Here’s another bright splash of red, guess who found a strawberry top that Crow put out as a surprise treat?

You can see how well No Mow May is going in the background.

It might not look like there are many changes down at the pond (formerly known as The Swamp) but we do keep doing bits, including shaping this Dogwood.

Gunnera manicata

The blue dye is still just as strong as when we first put it into the water and there’s no sign of weed yet. What there was today was the most gorgeous damsel fly I’ve ever seen. It was a male beautiful demoiselle and it certainly lived up to its name. I’ve seen them locally before, but never in our garden up to now. Hopefully the restoration of the pond will be a big attraction for more. I should repeat, the dye is wildlife friendly.

Here’s a ‘beautiful demoiselle’ I photographed in a stream down the lane

We did a lot of work this weekend including adding more water from the tap, but as rain’s forecast again this week we didn’t want to fill it right up and there needs to be a tolerance for the winter months too. I think the majority of our work should be finished at the pond by the end of the week, ready for future finessing and planting as it really will be an ongoing project. This week’s task is to saw lots of fallen branches as we’re putting a few log piles around and about for the insect life. It’s all very hard work, but so satisfying as you can see gradual improvements - I’ll be posting more progress photos as and when.

Next weekend, which coincidentally is the official celebration of the Queen’s platinum jubilee, we’re having all the family for a barbecue. I’m really hoping the weather will be fine for us. We’ll have Ms NWtE, her fiancé and Pepper and Ms NWtY, her partner, Baby H and the aforementioned overseas dog. Let’s hope they all get along in harmony - I say all of them, I really mean the young pup and the old lady, although the youngster isn’t really a puppy she just has youthful good looks...it runs in the family don’tcha know 😉

PS if you like less of a diary type read and some quick photos, see my other Tumblr page HERE

#nature gardens dogs family life

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felswritingfire · 3 years

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April Brain Rot #12

Prompts:

53. Marble

Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

Summery: You met a cursed Riddle Rosehearts when you were 6- you've been sneaking out to meet him ever since. Now you're an adult and determined to break his curse and find his friends despite the stress of home.

TW: Implied Abusive relationship (Mother/child)

Word Count: 1,589

A note from Fel: If y'all do not ask me for a continuation of this- my girlfriend will- that is not a threat that is a promise.

“What have I told you about following rules?” You wince at the tone of his voice. Riddle had always been a stickler for rules- ever since you first met him.

You were a child then, running away from your shrieking mother- raging about some sort of vase that you accidently bumped into and broke- and hiding in the forest just beyond your backyard. You had tripped, your palms colliding with the twigs and stones and your chin following afterwards. You lay there for a few moments, your small body heaving with each shaky breath you suck in. You whimpered at the stones digging into the open scrapes on your palms as you pushed yourself up. You hiccuped, sitting up and looked around. The sun was setting, bathing everything in an orange glow. The shadows of the trees were an inky black and the cries and creaks of the forest seemed to be amplified and you sniffled, standing up and looking behind you. You didn’t know where you were, but you didn’t want to go home. You didn’t want to hear your mother scream again.

You hiccuped again, waddling further into the forest on your shaky legs.

By the time that the sun had dipped below the mountains and the night sky was coming to eat the rest of the day away, you had stumbled onto an old mansion’s garden. You had been awed by the vines that were creeping over the crumbling walls and the black gates that barely hung to their hinges. You squeezed through the gates to see a statue standing in the middle of the overgrown garden of flowers.

It was a boy: short in stature despite the heels he wore, his eyes looking down forlornly at the rose in his hand and his lips were pulled into a thin line. You stared up at him, eyes sparkling as you pressed your hands against the smooth marble of the statue.

You gasped when the surface bagan to crack, bits falling off as the statue began to move and breath. A gasp escapes him as a sheet of marble falls from his face and steel grey eyes and red strands fall from their previous position. He stumbled forward and you held out your hands like you were going to catch him-

“(Y/N)!”

You wince again, being pulled out of your musings of the past by a pink faced Riddle. “Yes, yes- I know. I’m sorry.” You pick at the grass despite that being the rule you broke not too long ago.

He folds his arms, squinting at you. His frown twitches into something more concerned the longer he looks at you. He finally sighs and moves to sit next to you on the dried up fountain. “Are you alright? You-” he brushes his fingers under your puffy eyes- “have bags. They’re very dark, you know?”

“Really?” You rub at your face, feeling sheepish suddenly. “I thought I covered them up enough. Guess not, huh?”

He pouts.

“I’m fine, really, Riddle.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His tone stern and unwavering.

“Ah…” a breathless giggle leaves you, “you know me too well, don’t you.”

“Of course! I’ve known you since you were 6 after all.” He’s smug as he crosses his arms.

“Yeah. I’m old compared to back then, eh?”

“And you’ve become a wonderful adult.”

You hum and look down at your hands, your fingers intertwined with each other, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Riddle’s eyebrows crease and his frown grows bigger. He places a hand on your back, gently rubbing circles against your shoulder blade. “What’s wrong?”

You look up at him, your eyelids feeling heavy. “My mom… She… Ah, Riddle- I don’t know what to do anymore.” You whisper. “Everything I do isn’t good enough and she always pulls the ‘I’m sick so I can be completely awful about everything.’” Your sight began to turn glassy. “And there’s-” you suck in a deep breath trying not to cry- “there’s no one else I can rely on to help take care of her. And she’s started getting more and more angry about me leaving at night-”

“Does that mean you’ll stop seeing me?” Riddle’s voice is quiet as he asks you that.

You look up at him, shaking your head. “No! No- never. I still have to break your curse and find your friend.”

He smiles almost bitterly. “I’m not sure how we’re going to do that, Rose Bud. I’m sure that Trey and Che’nya are long gone… and my curse…” He shakes his head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

He had told you about Trey and Che’nya multiple times- each time he looked more and more wistful and lonely. They had been his best friends, from what he told you. “We’ll figure it out! You mentioned that they were both there when you were cursed right? So maybe they were cursed too.”

He grimaces. “I hope not. It’s simply awful.” Suddenly his eyes droop. “Why would they leave me though?”

You wrap your arms around him, feeling his face heat up against your skin as you press your cheek against his. “I’m sure they didn’t know. I wouldn’t expect my friends to be a living statue.”

“I wasn’t.”

You blink, pulling away from him yet you still kept your arms around him. “Hm?”

“I wasn’t a living statue until you touched me.”

You hummed, pressing your face against his again. You felt your head swim with thoughts. From your mother to how you were going to help Riddle. Even the strange looking cat that hung around the bakery you loved so much. A thought began to bloom in your mind: maybe… maybe-

“Hey, Riddle.”

“Hm?”

You look at him out the corner of your eye. He was leaning against you, holding your hand. You feel your heart beat faster as you lick your lips before you begin: “you know all those fairytales? The ones where… where true love's kiss breaks the curse?”

Riddle’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes?”

“Do…” You gulp. “Do you want to try it?”

A strangled noise leaves him as he jerks himself away from you. “What?”

“I mean-” you wave your hands around, a blush climbing up your neck and cheeks- “it’s the one thing we haven’t tried!”

He clears his throat, smoothing down the front of his vest, glancing at everything that wasn’t you. “I- I well yes- but-” he looks at you, his face the picture of flustered. “How do you know I love you?”

“You do, don’t you?” Your voice was high pitched and panicked.

“I- I- of course I do! Do you?”

“Yes! Of course!”

“G-good!”

“Let’s- I- um-” you snapped your mouth shut, staring hard at him with a determined expression and a red face. Your hands shoot out grabbing his cheeks and dragging him to you, pressing your lips against his. You two stay like that, not moving, barely breathing.

You’re both red faced by the time you finally pull away from each other. You feel yourself practically vibrating. And you assume Riddle is too by the way his hand trembles in yours. “I- I-” you try to steady your shaking voice, “Do you feel any different?”

His bottom lip trembles as he closes his eyes. His brows furrow and he frowns. “No. No, I don’t.”

You frown too. “Oh.”

“B-but maybe we- we have to do it again?”

Your eyes widen and you gawk at him before nodding feeling ecstatic. “Ok.”

By the time you two had stopped pressing soft kisses against each other- both of your lips were tender and your cheeks felt like they were stained a permanent red. Your breaths intermingle as you press your foreheads against each other. You stare into Riddle’s eyes, feeling yourself drown in the depths of his grey eyes and the way that the morning light put gold flecks in his-

You gasped. “Riddle!”

He lets out a dazed noise, a wobbly smile on his red lips.

“Riddle! Riddle! It’s- it’s morning!”

You almost burst out at Riddle’s face: he looked like he just got hit over the head with a metal bat. He looks at the sun and immediately recoils with a hiss. “It- the- the sun!” He tries to look at it again and squeezes his eyes shut with another hiss. “It burns!”

“Don’t look at the sun, silly!”

His pained hisses bleeds into a giddy laughter. “It’s the sun, Rose Bud! The sun!” He pulls you up and traps you into a hug, spinning you around with him.

You shriek with laughter. “It is! It is!”

“We- I- we have to have a talk with your mother!” Riddle suddenly turned serious. “I need to have a word with her. I need to make clear to her how she should be treating you! There are rules that my mother beat into me at a young age and obviously she isn’t understanding them-”

“Before that!” You start to tug him out of the woods. “I need to go and take you to that bakery! The one with the weird cat- I think his name is Alchemy, or something- and Mr. Clover! I always get you your tarts from there-”

“Wait- Alchemy? Clover?”

You nod, looking confused. “Have I never told you their names?”

He lets out another laugh. “Let’s go, Rose Bud!”

You feel the giddy emotions spread through you, never having seen him this excited in your life. You’ll deal with your mother later, right now you and Riddle were going to drink in the sun.

Thank you for reading!

#Twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #x reader #gender nuetral reader #non bianary reader #sfw #not a reblog #april brain rot

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peeterparkr · 3 years

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perennial;tom holland|fifteen.

chapter fifteen: weeds.

↳ flower meanings:

Daisy: new beginnings Thistles: protection buttercups : childish white clover: happiness

chapter summary: the stories of the wallflowers and who we are supposed to blame

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angst, mentions of sex, UNRELIABLE authors

word count: 9K

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER: none

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

I know it took me forever to write this, it was so difficult to write this chapter. I KNOW IT’S UNUSUAL, but please read between the lines because I am trying to tell the story through everyone’s eyes. And EVERYTHING has a reason I swear. ESPECIAL THANKS TO @laurieteddy ( @erodasghosts ) for helping me out wit this, go thank her, there woudln’t be any chapter,

tags aren’t working, please leave feedback asdakd

People often tend to ignore the wild daisies, thistles or buttercups that dare to pop in the road, people often think of them as rather a plague, or rather too common to be interested in them. Most people try not to look at them. But when they are combined and together they can create the most beautiful bouquet.

Some people, like Harry, however like to stop and stare and collect them, wonder how they grow in the most unsuitable places. Harry was someone who could spread love so easily, when he was a wallflower himself. Not easily noticed. A crestfallen Harry had been trying to figure out what to do, for a while now. He hadn’t been able to grow his love around anyone lately, because he’d lost his favorite flower. How would he grow daisies when the daisy did not want to grow anymore.

Emma was one of those daisies that people often ignored. So spectacular she managed to bloom even when all the odds were against her, in the most odd places. Like daisies in the path as they managed to outgrow the asphalt, or daisies in window corners, or in random fields where people like to do picnics.

Often people ignored her for she was outshined by other magnificent flowers. Even the night before, she’d been outshined by another flower who had just joined the game.

Emma had been outshined by a particular flower for a while now, she did not resent her in any way. Though she could not hide her appetence, for it had come and gone so many times by now. Why would anyone stare at a daisy like her? She would wonder.

Emma often thought of y/n to be a sunflower, unique, beautiful and vedirit, the flower that has sun in its own name because even the sun is outshined sometimes. A flower that searches for the sun, for the spotlight. Emma, a daisy was often outshined by a magnificent sunflower. Because people often think daisies can keep blooming even when they are stepped on.

Timmy took Emma for granted. Harry had been so delicate, until he decided that he needed to know why sunflowers grew so tall.

According to gardeners daisies are hardy, drought-tolerant plants that provide years of gorgeous, classic charm. Sure. Emma was all of that, she was tolerant but she also wanted to be loved. Very loved and she deserved it. She was such a magnificent human being who dared to pop out in the darkest situations.

However, Emma understood why y/n got the attention. Sunflowers were also drought-tolerant but they don’t bloom that easily. It depends on the soil, how you water them… and all the care plants need. But once they bloom, such a whimsical and lyrical flower.

Emma knew why Tim and y/n had not worked out. And Emma knew why Tom and her would work.

Timmy liked peonies. Y/N was not a peony.

Tom liked yellow flowers. Sunflowers, more often than not, are yellow.

Emma did not understand, if Harry loved daisies…. Why didn't they work out?

Did Harry truly love daisies or had he settled for the tiny version of a sunflower, the one with less impact. The one that could bloom easily. The one he didn’t have to water that often. The one flower that didn’t need the spotlight.

Emma would replay that night over, and over. The night that champagne had been spilled because someone had dropped the glass, the night that every heart had been broken. And she wondered how not even Harry had been able to turn the disaster into a beautiful evening, because everything had been dropped. The night everyone had burned, the beautiful garden had turned into chaos, a war. A war she did not wish to be a part of.

Emma wished to be a sunflower. And it was ironic given how many times y/n had told Emma she wanted to be like her, y/n did not see how thrilling and exciting her life was. How Emma though, knew it complicated, longed for the drama and the story and… everything.

Sure, her and Harry had had a lovely story, but y/n and Tom? Even y/n and Timmy. Her stories were worth telling. That’s why she was bloody telling it. Full of plot twists and drama and fire. A story that kept everyone on the edge.

And it wasn’t jealousy, it’s just— Emma was frustrated. She was just not burning in her story. She was boring and though she tried to shine and shine, she just—was taken for granted, because daisies aren’t unique. They’re delicate, though. Easy to bloom and easy to break.

She did not want to be taken for granted. No, she wouldn’t. But maybe Harry still liked the sunflower. Or he had once, so how could he like daisies over sunflowers?

Harry, was one big mystery to Emma, how he grew into her like poison ivy. Without poison, and flowers and just tangled into her. Emma thought Harry’s love was like a good plague, one that kept flowering through her. And growing into one couldn’t get out.

Emma missed him, Emma missed kissing Harry. And though Emma often was against kisses, because she believed kisses were only but a hoax to get tricked into phony romance. Emma always said to beware good kissers, because you might end up thinking you’re in love.

Emma knew that's probably what had happened to y/n, Tim had been just too good of a kisser for her, that she ended up believing she was in love with him. Lips hold poison that becomes addictive. Sometimes that addiction becomes toxic, which is what Emma believed happened to Tim. He had miscomprehended his own situation, he was not in love anymore, he was an addict to y/n.

Or… rather, he didn’t want to accept that he hadn’t been enough sunlight for the sunflower. Sunflowers turn to the sun. Maybe Tom was the closest thing to the sun for her, maybe that’s why y/n shined the most when she was with him, her smile was the brightest, and she was the warmest. Emma knew how y/n’s smile would linger every time Tom made her smile, she’d noticed it, even on set when she was trying to hide it. She wasn’t subtle, y/n’s glance would look for Tom, and when he was around, she’d try to hold her breath. She… shined. Because sunflowers turn to the sun.

Daisies, however,search for unusual places. And Emma had searched for the most unusual place to bloom now.

Emma had slept with Josh for a simple reason, he wasn’t a good kisser and kissing gets more intimate than sex. For Emma, a kiss could tell if you could fall in love. Kissing was but the bond of two people’s secret merging into one.

Emma was tired, she wanted the talking to stop with Harry and just… kiss him. That’s all she wanted, but her pride was too loud. She wanted to be like the sunflower, who could easily forgive. But Emma was terrified, because she’d never been able to love like this before, and the light was still flickering.

Emma had talked to Cherry, or rather… Listened to her, and she wondered however could she blame her. Cherry, Cherry was another victim outshined by the sunflower. Cherry was just another casualty drawn by the war, and her heartbreak, could be just as powerful. But of course, no one cared about her. She was the villain. Emma had listened to Cherry. Cherry was not in love with Tom, Emma could tell. She’d been fooled by a kiss, but no, she was not in love. Cherry had only been blinded by Tom.

Had Emma been a villain at some sort of point? Pushing Tim and Y/N together, even if Emma knew that Tim and y/n would eventually break?

Emma had been blinded because she knew she couldn’t lose Harry. And god, it hurt. So much, and she was confused and she needed to scream to finally be noticed. There is the inexplicable pain that comes when you don’t acknowledge it, and avoiding it won’t erase the problem, it makes it grow more and more.

Emma did not understand why she had tried to avoid it, getting drunk, dressing up, taking long walks and singing, but she was not okay. And maybe it was finally sinking. Emma was a flower that was drying out, that was reminded of the greatest love one could have ever dreamed of. Maybe Emma had learned too much of the sunflower, but now she felt it, how Emma was now made of Harry, too.

Emma hadn’t smiled since she’d left him, and she wished she had tried to mend things before, but Emma felt like it would take her nowhere because maybe her love had not been enough for Harry, and to feel worthless takes one strength, and Emma was getting tired of pretending she was strong.

Probably not even Tim had noticed it, how she had stopped dressing a certain way or why she couldn’t watch certain films, she had had a haircut, and how she still couldn’t explain it to herself. Why had the fairytale faded? Days turned into night, and there she had been again, kissing another stranger.

Emma had her head underwater and until now she noticed she couldn’t breath. The daisy was not there anymore.

Emma never cried, but she did this one time, with a cigarette burning out in between her fingers, with the tulips in her nightstand dried out, listening to Tim complaining about Tom, whatever he tried to say Emma had not listened.

Someone had shown up later that night, the door had rang, probably y/n willing to talk about her latest decision, Emma felt some sort of fear. Had y/n spent the entire day with Harry?

Tim had looked up, too. Y/N could’ve forgotten her key, was she there? Emma was not sure why that had made her feel unsteady, after all this time, did she believe y/n would go for Harry?

Timmy went to open the door and he seemed… calm. Not sure what Emma had expected, probably a crying y/n that only longed for a bottle of cheap wine for herself as they sat on the floor, near the couch, and then they would end up listening to old 80’s songs, or re-watching some poorly made netflix show that probably didn’t deserve the attention, but was good enough to have as a background.

That was what Emma had expected. To be yet again pushed aside.

“I’ll… want me to get the door?” Tim asked.

Emma shook her head, knowing that y/n would not want to see Tim. Emma stood up. And it hadn’t been what she had expected. Yet, she was filled with doubts. Had y/n… given up on Tom and decided to go with Harry?

What happened? Had she not talked to Tom? Had she spent the day with Harry? They must have.

How—how did the sunflower manage that?

How could it only take them a day and be fine with it?

There was a slight hint of jealousy over Emma, which was completely understandable. The girl had gone through so many times of being outshined by her, even y/n’s sadness had to outshine Emma’s.

But it wasn’t y/n at the door.

Because probably no one had cared enough to care about the wallflowers, but they had to solve it.

And it had taken another fire to get that other wallflower to Emma’s door.

The night before, the one thundering storm that had crashed in the other household. But it had ceased.

Before Emma had opened the door, the other weed like flowers had had a conversation, hours before. The other casualties had been having a conversation while Tom and y/n were enjoying a sunset, everyone else was dreading the darkness the night would bring.

Before they could even think of the solution Tom and y/n had made, it seemed like the conversation of their unpredictable mess was making them flow. Merely minutes before Tom and y/n had come back home.

James, another wallflower himself, had spent the day of the storm with Clark and Sam, and though they seemed calm, and they had had what could be called a good day, he couldn’t stop his nerves. James was often too protective of his sister and he would not stop by now. Though, he had also been very protective of Tom.

They went home, after Harry had warned them the other pair had left to solve their problem elsewhere. Though it was selfish, the four of them wished they could solve it for the sake of the group.

James was worried about his sister, and he now had to worry for the impression Clark had of him and the drama. James didn’t want Clark to be involved in that drama.

Clark, however, had been possibly the only one that understood the situation. Outsiders often see the wider picture and notice things we don’t. To Clark it was clear that the people around Tom and y/n had been their doom. Clark was not a wallflower. But he didn’t know that and he did not care.

Clark was someone, very much like Harry, and Clark was someone who actually liked thistles. Thistles are often disregarded because of their prickles, and not very pretty among many flowers.

Clark often knew that everyone thought James was a prick. He was, for the matter, but it was often because James liked to protect himself and those around him, building fences to keep them safe.

“I think, James, you do not give enough credit to them,” Clark said. “They managed to go from mortal enemies to a very adorable couple. What I’ve seen so far is two people who love each other so much that they grew past their hatred which, I may have been a witness to when we first started dating, those two could not be in a room without throwing knives at each other and now the way they look at each other reminds me so much of us, even I was slightly jealous of their glances. So secretive and loving.”

Maybe they all tried to ignore that, how they’d turned arguments into flirting, and translated smirks into smiles.

James sighed, “they haven’t changed. Plus, they—slept with other people, and our cousin?”

Sam was quietly sitting across them, scrolling through his phone.

Harry snorted a chuckle, “Do you think they will get out of this one?”

“Yes,” Sam was the one to speak now.

James rolled his eyes, “and then they’ll keep being idiots.”

“Love changes us, idiot,” Clark said. “Look at you, before I met you, you’d be hooking up with a different person every bloody night,” he chuckled.

James rolled his eyes, “are you slut shaming me?”

Sam chuckled at the statement. “You /were/ a slut.”

James rolled his eyes, “shut up.”

“No, but I mean, when we first—started dating I was also scared of not being—You know, I’m boring—“

“You’re not boring,” James interrupted. Because he wasn’t.

“But I am not like you are—you—you and I are very different, you are a very fun person, though sometimes you bloody decide to act all grown up to y/n, you’re still an idiot.”

“Always acting so grown up,” Sam intruded. “As if you knew what you were doing.”

“I do know!” James complained.

Harry laughed, “you do not.”

“Especially when it comes to y/n,” Sam said. “That’s the least you know.”

Harry, also standing nearby, rolled his eyes and nodded.

“No, no, that’s not true, I think you do know,” Clark pointed out. “But you are too worried to see that this is—Look, okay not right now, but I do think your sister and—“Clark turned to Sam and Harry. “And your brother are so in love but they kept listening to all of you and ended up sabotaging themselves.”

“They’re idiots,” Harry finally commented.

“So is James and look at us,” Clark pointed out.

James chuckled, “are you done insulting your fiancé?”

“I’m not insulting you,” he kissed his cheek. “My point is, you changed and we adapted and we became this magnificent couple, but it’s not always been easy.”

James stayed quiet, he knew that. It had not been rainbows and butterflies but they’d managed to come through.

Clark watched him, James was often too insecure of everything and built walts and pricked anyone who tried to tumble them down, Clark included. And James often did the same thing with y/n, trying to hide her from the world, and always trying to be the bigger person.

“I think their problem is the exact problem of ours,” Clark continued. “While everyone here is meddling in their relationship, you sister didn’t even know we were serious.”

Clark and James had had a nice relationship but every obstacle on their way had almost been powerful enough to break them apart. However each time they had outgrown it, their relationship had come stronger. That’s probably why Clark believed in the other pair. But Clark also believed James had overprotected y/n and not let her make her own decisions, maybe y/n had tried to convince herself to love Tim because her own brother had told her to. Maybe y/n had doubted Tom because her own brother told her to.

“I…” James sighed. “I know this kind of stuff happens to y/n, and Tom and y/n specifically, look I didn’t bring you that one time at the engagement party and look what happened, I am--That’s the thing, Tom and y/n always… Even when they weren’t dating we were always on the edge of what they will do next, look at us now I don’t know what they will come up with tonight.”

Harry sighed, and rolled his eyes, he did not want to keep being part of that conversation. He left.

Clark did understand why James had been so keen on having their relationship so private. James was scared of the other obstacles that he could not control. James did not trust his sister that much, not with relationships.

Even when Y/N was dating Tim, James had told Clark how he thought the guy was perfect for her but that he didn’t trust y/n. Maybe James did know why y/n couldn’t love Tim back as much as Tim loved her.

“What I’ve seen is them so in love, and I can tell she truly loves him and is not forcing herself to love him,” Clark said.

James frowned. “What?”

Clark took a deep breath, “I feel like y/n—I, look, I’m not—“Clark gulped.

Sam frowned “what?”

“I—Okay, I met y/n when she was in another relationship,” Clark reminded them. “With Tim.”

“She loved Tim,” James said. “Tim—“

“No, I know, I know, but I see y/n just—she is so free when she is with Tom, and I met Tom before I met any of you.”

James probably understood this. James had criticized y/n when she was dating Tim. But James loved Tim because he had loved y/n, so unconditionally, and Clark had pointed it out to James, how Tim would go to the end of the world for her.

Which is what James would do for Clark. And what Clark would do for James. But Clark had always known that y/n wouldn’t for Tim. Because it seemed that every time she dressed up for Tim, she wished she was dressing up for someone else.

“So?” Sam questioned.

But Clark knew that Tom and y/n would go to the end of the world for each other, and they had proved it several times now. And Clark knew that this was the first time y/n did not do what her brother told her to do, this was her fighting for her own heart and this was her not wanting to be under protection of her brother.

“I think Tom and y/n will work it out, I don’t think it’s easy, but—I think that both of them, if they’ve outgrown everything else, they will outgrow this and you should be supportive whatever their decision is,” Clark stated.

“And if they break up?” Sam questioned, “what will happen to us?”

What would happen to them. Clark knew that probably was what James feared the most. James and Tom had always been friends, there had always been a type of bond between them. It was even weird to him seeing him and his sister so foolishly in love. James knew he would have to say goodbye to Tom, even if he was going to ask him to be the best man. James would have to let Tom go.

And James wondered how y/n would be. Y/N had spent her whole life in love with Tom, her whole life had been wrapped around that fact. James knew. So what would happen if it ever happened?

James and Tom had always been friends.

Sam and y/n had been friends for as long as they could recall, always making fun of each other, building the funniest of anecdotes. Sure everyone knew Harry and y/n had always been best friends. But barely people acknowledged how close Sam and y/n were.

Sam was always left on the outside, probably because he always liked to avoid trouble. Sam, more often than not, was considered to be the most childish in the group. Sam was not childish, he just simply did not understand. Sam was not ignored. Buttercups are loved, though sometimes their love is spread too much and people don’t know what they have to do with it. The problem is when it becomes too much and often, people don’t know what to do with it.

Sam had distanced because he was one of the few people who did not stand y/n and Tom, long before they were dating. He did not stand their bickering, he hated taking sides. Of course everything had made sense when they had confessed they were madly in love but Sam didn’t quite figure it out. How could anyone hate and then love?

For Sam, it had not made any sense, partly. He had known y/n was in love with Tom, her glance was so obvious and then when he had looked back at it, it made perfect sense.

Though she had despised Tom, every now and then Sam would notice y/n hide a smile.

Sam had always tried to figure everything out, and his own imagination often led to conclusions that would drive him insane. Like a child, he always asked the questions.

How? How could she be in love with her very own enemy?

Sam had been the one to drive her home after that heartbreak, after the nightclub. Sam had been the one to listen to her and—Sam had been the one to know she wouldn’t get out of that heartbreak that easily.

Sam had also been the first to know Y/N would date Tim, and he had been the first person—after Harrison to hear Tom say he was in love with her.

Clark’s remark had made Sam think about Tim and y/n, to compare it to Tom and y/n.

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

However, Sam had been the only one to ask Tom after the engagement party, probably. “It’s so scary to think I’ve loved her my whole life and it didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to.”

Sam remembered when he found out about it, and how angry he was at his brother but how happy he had been after he heard they were having fun in New York. Even when they had told their parents, it seemed that Sam’s fear and anger had gone away, and then… The engagement party.

Sam thought of how scary it was to lose someone you have loved your whole life , but he understood why they were persistent, because if they were so in love and had been for a while, growing past each , how come this had turned into this mess?

Sometimes love isn’t what we think of it.

Sam had been the only one to tell y/n that Timmy and her were not made for each other. She hadn’t questioned him, probably because she knew it. But Sam had been the only one to tell her. Probably because he knew his own brother, Harry at the time of course, he knew nothing about Tom, was deeply in love with her. Maybe that’s what drove Sam to say it but… honestly, Sam did not trust Timothee to be around y/n. He agreed with Tom most of the times when he criticized Timothee.

But he had stayed quiet long enough.

Sam had been the one who had noticed that Tim had known about Harry’s feelings, Harry had never been subtle but… he knew Timothee had noticed.

There were a lot of things Sam had noticed, like how Tim had set up Harry with Emma. Which, of course, ended up being the best thing that could’ve ever happened to Harry, but Sam knew Tim had done it but to get rid of Harry.

Tom had once pointed it out to Sam.

“That guy, Tim, the one y/n is hooking up with,” he had said with poison. “He seems that he quickly got rid of Harry eh? He set Harry up with this other girl just so he can have y/n to himself.”

No, but—Harry and Emma had met at the club. But—maybe Tim had set them up?

And it had seemed like that. Sam wondered what Tim had done to get rid of Tom, because he had probably noticed about it. Timothée was very, very observant. Quiet.

Timothee had probably noticed about Tom’s infatuation long before anyone else had.

Sam knew Timothée was a very, very smart individual. He was very quiet and Sam did not quite like that. Everything he said was like a perfectly crafted plan. He was incredibly smart, and Sam didn’t trust that. But of course, he had been the one to stay quiet for a long time. However, he saw that y/n was happy. And Sam really liked that, because he’d seen her right after that club night, and Sam had been the only one she would reach out to. Occasionally.

Sam had been the first one to know that y/n had declined Tim’s proposal. Sam had been the one y/n had called because she knew Harry was with Emma. Sam didn’t know the real reason why she had declined the proposal. He only remembered how she had arrived at him and was barely breathing. After coming back from that trip to France, to meet his grandparents. Barely anyone knew she had come earlier from that trip, she had cut it short. Coming back to London alone, she’d taken the Eurostar, and it seemed she’d cried all her way back home.

She’d asked Sam to go and pick her up to get her home. She was speaking quickly and nonsense as if she had been barely breathing for the trip. “I-I said no, I should’ve said yes, I love him but I don’t… don’t even know why I said no, I can’t believe I said no I am so stupid.”

She was crying, saying nothing made sense and how her heart had broken because she couldn’t come up with a real reason to say no. Sam had asked if she was ready, if she loved him. Because y/n had not told him what had happened.

“Did you break up?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“What happened?” He questioned.

She had taken a deep breath. “I don’t love him enough.”

She hadn’t seen it coming, but Harry had told Sam. Harry knew Tim would propose. Emma had told Harry. Everyone thought she would say yes, honestly. You never really truly know how a relationship is behind closed doors, but… Sam had been grateful she’d said no. The skeletons in his closet had not come out yet.

Y/N had always thought that Sam didn’t know, but he was very aware.

“I met his grandma, and—She said I would be perfect, I think they—-“she had said. “And—he gave it on a film canister… and I love him, but I’m not—not completely in love. There—there is a part of me that still is not over Tom and I am not sure if I will ever be completely healed from the pain he’s caused me, and that impedes me from loving Tim.”

Sam knew there wasn’t really anything to be worried about, but Sam had known it for a long time. How Tim was probably a master of manipulation. But he knew it, too. Tom had broken y/n to the next level.

“Will you ever be over Tom?” Sam asked.

She had not answered. She wouldn’t be.

Timothée was not a bad person. But Tim often did things to get things done his way, even when he didn’t see it.

“You know I won’t,” she said eventually.

What part had Tim played in this mess? Though there wasn’t much of a part to be played, because y/n and Tom seemed to love creating the chaos themselves, Sam could only wonder what exactly had Tim done to try and take Tom out of the picture.

Though we could argue that it was ‘after Rome’, Sam had noticed that y/n did hate Tom more after Tim’s arrival. But it’s a very fine line because there is a lot Sam didn’t know as to what had happened in Rome and it was after the nightclub.

Sam didn’t understand why they said ‘Rome’, as if Rome had been the place that had been cursed when in fact it had been the very NightClub when things had shattered. For a heart to shatter, it needs to be made of glass. Hearts can only be made of glass when they’re so thoroughly in love. A heart that’s not in love is not easy to break. It’s funny, the stronger the love, the weaker the heart, in some sort of way.

No, Sam had to rephrase that. When a love is so strong, the heartbreak will be more painful. So, Sam could only guess how in love y/n had been to have a heart so shattered. And how was she doing now? And after the script? But last night… She’d made the same face she’d made that night at that club.

There is something about seeing your best friend heartbroken, it fuels your inner rage. Then again, he’d seen his brother heartbroken too.

That’s why Sam usually stepped out, he was not sure how he was supposed to proceed.

But Sam had missed y/n and he didn’t want to miss her again. And then, the night before. He had seen her face, and then she had run away, with Harry this time. Sam had thought she would ask him to drive her away again, like all those times before. Instead, he had stayed with his brother.

He’d heard Tom cry the night before.

But y/n? How had she spent her night? Maybe this time her heart made of glass had been covered on something else or it… was simply too broken now that the shattered pieces couldn’t be turned but into dust for now.

Sam didn’t blame Tom or y/n. But he had to blame someone.

There was something about Tim, or maybe blaming it on Tim was easier for Sam so he didn’t have to take any sides. He could also blame Cherry, but the poor girl had done nothing wrong but to be a fool, and there is a fine line there.

Sam decided to keep blaming Tim. What did Tim have to do with y/n’s heartbreak?

Hadn’t he told her, after their breakup? To sort her feelings out. What did Tim do? Because Tim was very smart.

Tim definitely knew about Tom and y/n. He had probably been the only damn person to have known it since the beginning.

What had Tim said to poison y/n even more against Tom? He had been the one to teach her that one word, perfidy.

Sam had read the script. And something didn’t sit right with Teddy’s character, how he seemed so perfect and yet he had seen y/n run from another country. How Teddy pointed it out, about William and Valerie.

It meant he had pointed out between Tom and y/n.

What had he told y/n about Tom? Yes, Tom and y/n were enemies, and they’d always been, always fighting, but in the end they were friends. In their own way. Maybe only because of the family, but…

Something just didn’t click with Sam.

Probably Tim had poisoned y/n with horrible thoughts about Tom, because y/n had said Tom was a monster, she’d written about it. How could someone ever love someone like him?

Tim was not a bad person. Sam had to tell himself that. Because he wasn’t, really. At the end of the day he was a good friend but… The guy just was… sketchy. To Sam, because it was just as if he had manipulated y/n into loving him.

Or, no, no that’s not how love works. No, y/n had loved him but maybe y/n had known it all the time.

But it just… He always wanted the best for y/n. Right?

Had… What had Tim done to bring y/n to LA, too?

Of course it was stupid to think, but… Sam didn’t want to jump into conclusions but he knew Tim was no saint. He knew that Tim knew y/n. That’s something Sam pointed out every time, Sam knew y/n. He remembered how Tim had brought another girl to his and Harry’s birthday party, knowing damn well y/n’s biggest fear was to be replaced. So if he knew it so, so well, why had he done it? To hurt her?

But also, Tim was the one to… Sam had to erase those thoughts. No, Tim wasn’t a bad person because he’d also been the one to show y/n she could smile again, and she could laugh and love.

And Sam knew how the breakup had gone, New Year’s Eve, when y/n had drunkenly confessed to Tim:

“There’s still a part of me that will always wonder if Tom’s the love of my life.”

To hear that from the person you love the most, must change you. And Tim had asked her to sort her feelings out.

Sam could not blame Tim.

But then again… He had kissed y/n right when he knew Tom and y/n were starting something. And who had come to comfort y/n after the engagement party? Tim.

It seemed like it was so perfectly calculated. So, very well planned. Or maybe not, maybe Tim had noticed how Tom and y/n were so fragile, that would break easily. That’s the thing about Tom and y/n, they were both so scared of the outcome, of any pebble that could be thrown their way and would deter their relationship, that’s why they lived so fast because they both feared the end, they both feared they wouldn’t be strong enough for the bullets shot their way.

Maybe Tim knew that, and maybe Tim knew which pebbles to throw.

Cherry had once told Sam that Tim had been the one to convince y/n to change places with her. And Cherry had said she had been delighted with Tim. Which only brought him to the night before.

Tim had asked Cherry to stay the night at his place. Sam had heard him ask her. No, Tim had not asked in any wrong way, but in a friendly way because the girl had been destroyed.

However, Sam thought there was something fishy in all of the situation. Sam had a slight suspicion that this mess had to do with Tim. Cherry had asked him the night before how long Tim and y/n-Tim, not Tom, how long Timothee and y/n had been dating. Sam had said they weren’t. And they wouldn’t be. Had Tim said something to lead to this mess? Was he the reason why at midnight Tom’s and y/n’s fantasy shattered? Why had Tim asked Cherry to go to his place? Maybe he had to do something with it.

Or maybe Tim only loved y/n. And he had been so blinded by his own love that he hadn’t stopped to realize some things he’d done were wrong. But you can never really know what’s going on behind closed doors.

Harry had his door closed, and Sam wanted to ask his brother what exactly he was going through. Though, he knew he was not having a good time. That was no secret.

Sam knocked on the door.

Harry opened the door to watch his brother, Harry hadn’t slept and he was not breathing. He seemed to be trying to calm himself down, but Sam could tell he was angry. Very, very angry.

“Why did he fucking do it at the engagement party?” Harry asked Sam.

There it was, a conversation they had had millions of times, yet never truly acknowledging it had been the night everyone had burned.

Because Harry often avoided the question. Sam was also slightly angry at how they had had to forgive Tom because Tom was in love and because Tom’s heart had been shattered. But Tom’s drunken speech had led to all this mess and the pain still lingered for the family.

Maybe that’s why no one in the family was really telling anything to Tom, maybe that’s why they weren’t eager with Tom and y/n being together. But they would all stay quiet. Maybe the real reason why James had been reluctant to them was because they feared their battles would leave even more casualties.

No one really had stopped to think how their relationship had changed everyone’s situation, how y/n’s parents had barely talked to the Hollands. How James wouldn’t go out for drinks with the twins and that’s why they didn’t know how serious he was with Clark. How James had to keep his boyfriend out of the drama because he didn’t want his own relationship to get ruined. How Harry and Sam had lost their best friend. How Emma had to run to another country to get over her heartbreak. How Harry had lost the love of his life.

Everyone seemed too focused on how Tom and y/n were trying to get out of this one that everybody had simply forgotten everything they’d left behind. All the casualties.

Every single wallflower, all the weed flowers that had kept growing and had not had the chance to grow.

“I… why do they always have to do everything big? Like first, the engagement party, why did Tom choose to explode there? Why did y/n write a script like that? It’s obvious they both wanted to fail, it’s so-so obvious, and then? What did he do? He slept with her cousin, out of everyone, her cousin… And she slept with Tim!”

Y/n had slept with Tim. Yet another pebble thrown at trying to get Tom and y/n back into the woods. Sam could only try and wonder why y/n had let herself be fooled again, maybe it was a rebound but then again… Maybe Tim wasn’t really the problem, but maybe y/n still felt guilty for that proposal.

Sam remembered it.

“I will never forgive myself because I will never love him the way he loves me.”

Guilt, guilt often grows like poison ivy and covers you and tangles you until you cannot be able to step out of it. Maybe that was the reason why y/n couldn’t stay away from Tim, because Tim had been the one to make her feel loved, and yet she’d never loved him back the same way.

“… Oh my god, y/n knew she could’ve slept with anybody and Tom would’ve not cared but with it’s like she did it on purpose because they have to make everything big,” Harry continued. “And I’m… so tired of it….Like last night, why did that have to happen? They could’ve talked about it but neither did it because they had to wait until the bomb exploded and bring everyone down with them…. I couldn’t even think of my heartbreak because Y/N had it worse, no, I’m not blaming her but-” Harry sighed. “Yes, whatever they love each other but… But what about my own relationship? What about James’ relationship? Didn’t he fear this drama would push Clark away?”

Sam only listened.

“Why did--Why did we have to direct her script so he could make a big entrance and win her back? I knew this would jeopardize my relationship with Emma.”

Because this was always what happened with them. Even when they were enemies. Sam hated it. Always a big, big fight, argument, how they’d have to take sides and take turns to not have them at the same place, and when they were, they would always, always make it big.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted.

Harry sighed. “And they don’t-even care, they just--Like I had to see Emma today and pick up y/n’s clothes and..that would ruin me and yet I did it, because both Tom and y/n are so fucking selfish and I don’t care-I genuinely couldn’t care less about their drama anymore, I come back and they had fucked, like-” Harry took a deep breath. “Oh my god, how do they fuck it up so badly? They’re only sabotaging themselves... And I don’t know and-why do we have to keep being dragged by their bullshit? If I have to listen to Tom complain about Tim one more fucking time…”

Sam didn’t blame anyone, honestly.

“And look, I don’t even know what the fuck they’re gonna come up with now, they’re so unpredictable and I don’t… If they break up I don’t want to listen to their rambling I… I just can’t sympathise with them anymore, I… No, I don’t mean that. I just… I need my time, too, you know? I need to be angry and I need to get it out and I need to cry it out because I’m-” His voice was breaking. “I’m not okay, I lost Emma, and I know-But oh my god, we couldn’t even come home because they were here fighting or fucking or I don’t even know.”

“Everything was easier when they hated each other,” Sam said. And he meant it. But Sam did try to stop and wonder, what would happen if they were apart?

Tom had changed. Sam had noticed, how sad his brother had turned and only a few days ago how he had a smile back on.

Harry scoffed. “I said that, too.”

“What are you going to do with Emma?” Sam asked, because he didn’t want to feed into the Tom and y/n situation, it would give him a headache.

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “I… don’t know. I don’t know because… I am angry because my problem with her started because of Tom and y/n and--” Harry’s glance was glazing, but he was trying to stop himself.

“And I hate it because I should’ve called her but I didn’t because I had all these doubts and I… never got my own closure and I just had to deal with it and accept it because Tom this, y/n that and… I just want to… I want to get back to Emma but I don’t know if I could because Emma is friends with Tim and guess what? That would bring trouble and-”

Sam crossed his arms, listening.

“Or-or what if my friendship with y/n still bothers her? Even if she’s friends with her, and--I don’t even know, because she came here and I don’t know if she’d ever come back to London.”

Harry was shattering.

“I don’t even-know how to talk to her, she’s a stranger and I… I never thought that would ever happen, and she is just so cold and she…I hurt her so much she decided to move to an entire different country, you realize that? Maybe because she didn’t want to see me anymore, I don’t know what she wants,” Harry continued as he plopped on his bed. “And I don’t… No, I do, I do care she slept with someone else because I know she did it just to prove me a point, I know that she hates me now.”

Sam thought about it again, he didn’t think Emma hated Harry. No, she couldn’t.

A laugh was heard, and it was undeniably Tom’s, followed by a remark by y/n. Both twins turned their head to the door. Sam decided to close the door, he needed to listen to his brother, the other wallflower.

Harry had this curse, he was ivy, and he was white cloves. He knew Emma had loved it before but she probably cursed him for it now. Harry often made everything happy, and sometimes happiness is the toughest emotion to bear, Harry would spread his happiness everywhere he could go, but lately he couldn’t, there was barely any anticipation and his heart had felt numb and empty. As if the time when Emma had left, his heart had an indentation waiting to be filled by her.

“I love her, and I was supposed to love her for a lifetime and—“Harry said. “And… Maybe I wish I could…” He squinted. “Did you hear him? That was Tom, he was laughing, right?”

Sam bit his inner cheeks. “Yeah.”

“How long do you think that will last?” Harry sighed. “Even if it doesn’t. How-how does he do that?”

Sam only frowned.

“Do you think if I show up to Emma and just smile at her everything will be fixed?” Harry questioned and then laughed at the statement.

Harry was tired of not knowing what to do. And he was tired that he wanted to fix everything, but he felt that if he even tried to, everything would fall down. Inconspicuously, Harry had tried to go along his whole life without messing things up and that led him to where he was standing right now.

Harry sighed, “do you think they are going to sit us down and walk us through their decision?” Harry inquired.

Sam rolled his eyes, “I think you should focus back on Emma.”

“Right,” Harry sighed. “I just—It wasn’t only the—you know, I’ve been thinking, and my downfall with Emma wasn’t only from the engagement party. It had been something very crafted,” Harry explained, as he paced around the room. “I—I need a beer,” Harry said, as he finally opened the door to head to the kitchen, Sam followed after.

They saw James and Clark, confused, still at the living room, they had probably seen y/n and Tom walking in.

“Any heads up?” Harry asked them.

James looked up and made out a noise that could be translated into an ‘I don’t know.’

Harry rolled his eyes. He was tired. He didn’t want to deal with them.

“Where are they?” Sam asked.

“They—walked in—“Clark started.

“Ignored us,” James added.

Clark chuckled, “they went to the kitchen, and then went outside, they didn’t ignore us, they were just—“

“Too busy staring into each other’s eyes,” James chanted with sarcasm.

“They were talking,” Clark cleared up. “I think we shouldn’t—“

“No, I wasn’t planning to, I don’t care about them right now,” Harry said heading to the kitchen, he could get a glance of them by the window, they seemed calm, which honestly were good news. At least they didn’t have to hear them screaming.

Harry opened the fridge to get a beer, and then leaned against the counter. Sam double glanced at the couple outside and then grabbed a beer for himself.

“They… They were fighting before,” said Harry. “And apparently they slept together, again,” Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand how they do it,” Harry groaned as he stared at the cold beer in his hand.

Sam crossed his arms, “Stop avoiding it and explain why your downfall with Emma was even before the engagement party.”

Harry rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. “It was around the time, when I decided… Tim and I had both talked about it, alright? When he asked me about… Proposing to y/n,” Harry explained. “It was… “ Harry took a deep breath. “I think he was… the one to give me the idea,” Harry said.

The night Harry had decided he would marry Emma, he was so scared. Because he had been so sure for his entire life that he had been in love with y/n, when in reality it came no close to what he felt for Emma. He had been quiet about it.

Harry had once read we all fall in love with three people, the first time you ever love, you are young, it’s the first time you ever experience it, how silly it is to think of it. It feels so pure, and real and it’s incomprehensible, and looking back at it, you must think it wasn’t love. But it is, in its purest form because it’s so undeniably real and childish even. It’s the first time you encounter happiness. The time you learn to love.

Harry hadn’t been in love for all the time. He’d fallen out of love with her and fell back in love. The second time one falls in love is the one that breaks your heart. But they’re the person everyone expects you to love, the one flower that is pretty. The one that teaches lessons, the one that shows what pain is. You learn from it, what makes you grow, what doesn’t. Y/N had been the second one, too. The second love makes us learn what we love about love, good things, and what we don’t. This love is so powerful because it builds us, and we will often try and look back at it, because you might think it’s the one. And we can be blinded by their cold stare and try to fight for it, and though it brings a warm sunset, it’s not… It eventually dawns. The one when we learn about ourselves. The one that teaches us to love ourselves. The one before the one.

Then there’s the third one, the one you don’t expect, it hits without warning and one day you just… simply know it, and Harry had known it, so stupidly. It comes. The one that you don’t search for, the one that is just… right there for you, the one that you never thought you’d fall for. The one that tumbles down all of our walls because you can build a path together. It’s not who you usually like, it’s not like one of those crushes that you’ve had growing up, it brings the best of you. Because you find yourself in a field of all their flowers that have grown into your heart, and it’s beautiful, a dreamland. And you learn to love what you used to hate about love. It’s not the big flower, it’s the one flower you find along the way… the daisy.

That was Emma, all the flaws he loved, evergreen happiness even when everything might fall down. Covered with her, with those eyes that Harry wanted to see forever. So unexpected and now, he wanted her to be every book he read.

But he’d lost her.

“And I bought the ring,” Harry said. “But… Then I asked y/n what she thought,” Harry said. “Y/N was the one before the one,” he explained. “But we sometimes get confused, and… She told me not to marry Emma, and I doubted it. Because no one thought I should and I… I am here now hating myself because I tend to listen to everyone when all that mattered was I loved Emma, I still love her, and-”

Harry thought then, how ironic it was. Maybe that’s why Tom and y/n were out there talking, because it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It was them who mattered and how they wished to go through it.

“I think I started doubting myself,” Harry said. “And then… it happened and…I lost her, I didn’t know because I was the fool who thought that y/n was the one… When, she never was, and I want to just… Jump to Emma and kiss her, just like they do it, so simply,” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d sacrifice everything for Emma.”

Sam blew his cheeks. “Why don’t you, then?”

Harry glanced up, “What? Pull a Tom and just show up and kiss her?”

Sma shrugged. “Yeah. Why don’t you? I mean, it’s worth the shot.”

And it was, maybe it had been the fact that he’d seen Tom and y/n working it out despite everything. Despite being so different, despite having every wall, they were out there tumbling it down. And maybe that’s what led him to be standing behind that door, staring at the daisy he never thought he would ever love but couldn’t think he could live without. For once, Harry had no doubts, for once Harry did not want to be a wallflower everyone took for granted to spread happiness.

“I…” Harry was shaking. But it had to be done and it had to be said. “I… I love you.”

And that was the one outcome Emma had not expected from that whole day. But she gave in anyway, finally giving in to kiss him. And for the first time, she became the sunflower.

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handy-dandy-monster-candy · 3 years

Text

Primrose, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1929 Pairing: Male Reader x Male Orc (both cis)

Just a bit of fluff during these trying times.

xxx

I see him one bright summer morning in my grandmother's garden, near the edge of her property where the forest kisses the grass. I find him sleeping between the rosemary and the hydrangeas, curled up in the shade of a willow tree, barefoot and smelling of sweet wine. The morning sun has yet to reach him and so the dew still clings to him yet, making him almost seem to shimmer like a daydream in the dappled light.

He's big even for an orc, though I admit I haven't met many. His skin is the colour of cherry blossoms except where it seems to be lacking pigment, like a sliver which looks like a widow's peak that disappears into his vivid pink hair, and a splotch that spreads like a butterfly across his sharp cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. His hair is a rich pink colour, long and thick and braided loosely, the ribbon almost lost to the clover and lemongrass he’s lying on. I take a moment to study him among the birdsong and the stirring of the cicadas in the forest, watching the rise and fall of his broad, hairy chest where it's exposed by buttons either undone or lost to the night's festivities.

He's the most handsome man I've ever seen, and I almost feel remorse when I upend a bucket of water over his head.

He snorts and gasps, splutters and coughs, looking about him wildly as he flails and struggles to right himself from his lazy sprawl. "What in the hell?" he exclaims, breathless and agog, and when he turns his baby blue eyes up to meet mine, they go wide as dinner plates.

"You're crushing the lemongrass," I tell him, keeping my face and tone neutral while I smother my amusement.

"Did you just soak me?" he asks, something like awe stealing across his face.

"You're crushing the lemongrass," I say again, propping my dripping bucket against my hip through the overalls I'm wearing. "My lemongrass. Get out of my garden, you drunk."

It seems he can contain himself no longer; he throws his head back and roars with laughter until tears gather in his eyes. "And here I heard no one but a canny old crone lived in this cottage!"

"My grandmother," I supply, feeling my lips curve up despite myself. "I'm just a canny young bastard."

"And what happened to the crone?" asks the orc, getting up and pulling his shirt over his head to wring it out over the hydrangeas.

I can't help but notice that his torso is thick and muscled, and that the dense curls on his chest go all the way down his soft belly. Here, they turn white along with his skin in a broad swathe, and I find myself wondering where else his skin changes colour beneath his clothes.

"See something you like?"

My eyes snap back up to the orc's face, and where I'm expecting a smug, lascivious smirk, there is instead a bemused, almost shy smile. I know that I don't blush when I'm embarrassed, but I'm surprised to see that he does, two spots of red blooming across his cheeks like roses.

"She fell and broke her hip three weeks ago," I tell him, and I make a point to look only at his face while he puts his shirt back on. "She left me in charge of the house. What's it to you?"

The orc holds up his hands, and I see that one palm is white as cream. "Only curious," he assures me, turning his gaze to the cottage behind me. "Nice place."

I give him a very flat look. "Try to rob me and you'll regret it."

Once again he laughs, gesturing with his hands as if to fend me off. "Easy, easy! Are you always so hostile?"

"Only to strangers who pass out drunk in my herb garden."

He smiles, then, and I curse him internally; of course he'd have dimples. "Well, what if we weren't strangers? I'm Primrose, but most just call me Prim. You are?"

I feel my eyes narrow as I weigh my options, absently drumming my fingers against the side of my bucket. I debate telling him my name, but his disarming smile pries it out of my mouth before I can think better of it.

Primrose’s eyes light up. “What a pretty name. It suits you. Not like mine.”

“Oh?” I call over my shoulder as I turn to head back to the house, pretending to be bored of the stranger who tromps through the herbs behind me in his haste to follow. “I’m sure I don’t care why.”

“Oh, come on,” the big orc snorts. “‘Primrose’? For a man? ‘Prim’ is my only saving grace!”

“Don’t you fancy hearing ‘Rosie’?” I ask knowing that I’m being prickly, putting aside the bucket and reaching for the garden hose.

Primrose stops short, mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he can grumble, “Only my mother calls me that.”

“It’s a good name,” I say, turning to face him with the hose head in my hand. “It suits you. Unlike mine.”

Primrose laughs awkwardly, eyeing the hose like a snake about to bite. “Is that for me?”

I lift a brow. “Do you want breakfast, or not?”

His belly answers before his mouth can, rumbling loudly between us and causing him to splutter and cover it with his hands as if to silence it. “I suppose I do,” he sheepishly replies.

“Then I’ll hose the mud off your feet and you’ll go straight to the bath. I’ll wash your clothes while you soak the booze out of your system, feed you, and then you can get the hell off of my property.”

“Bossy,” Primrose says with a laugh, startling only a little when I turn the cold water of the hose on his feet. “I don’t have the foggiest where I might have lost them.”

“Your marbles?” I drawl, and I thrill at the quick grin it earns me from the orc.

“My boots.”

“Hm. Come in, then. Mind the door.” I warn him just in time to save him a nasty knot on his forehead, leading him into my grandmother’s cottage to the big claw-foot tub that I begin to fill with steaming water. I add bath salts and rose oil for his muscles and for my own amusement, which he doesn’t seem to miss despite how straight-faced I keep.

“Very funny,” he rumbles, pulling the ribbon from his hair and shaking it out of its plait. It falls all the way down to his backside, and in that moment, I want nothing more than to put my fingers in it and play with it until I’ve figured out just how many shades of pink there are to find. I control my urges and rein in my impulses as I’ve always done, leaving briefly under the context of getting the washing machine ready and returning only once I’m sure he’s in the tub. It’s not hard to gauge when he enters; the cottage is quiet except for birdsong, and his groan is low and long.

I bustle in to gather his clothing and wrinkle my nose at the tattered hair ribbon; the silk was fine to begin with, but it’s been torn and tattered in small but noticeable ways along the ends, and the mud is in so deep that it may never come out. “You’ve ruined this ribbon,” I inform Primrose, pinning him with a scrutinising look that he wriggles under the weight of like an errant schoolboy.

“I don’t remember how or when,” he says. “Last night is… a blur, at best.”

“Hm,” I sniff, looking away from him to head for the door. “Maybe this will teach you not to drink so much in future. A ribbon can be replaced, but if you’d fallen asleep facedown in a ditch somewhere, the night’s rain would have drowned you. Is that how you want to go out? Drunk and drowning in a puddle somewhere?”

I almost feel sorry for the way I make him squirm, big as he is. He’s all muscle, barrel-chested and with hard, shapely legs that he draws up to his chest in the tub. “No,” he all but meeps, meek as a kitten. “My mother would bring me back just to kill me. I won’t drink so much again.”

“See that you don’t,” I reply, sweeping out of the room to get the laundry going. Halfway without thinking, I stash the ruined ribbon in my pocket and go upstairs to my room to fetch him another. I, too, have long hair that requires being tied back from time to time, so I grab one of my ribbons and place it on top of the pile when his clothing has been washed and dried. I set these just inside the bathroom door and inform him that breakfast will be ready within the hour, and so I hear him reluctantly begin the drawn-out process of unwillingly leaving a warm bath.

Breakfast is simple, but hearty. Eggs, potatoes, sausages—all locally sourced from the farmers in the countryside. I’m chewing on a mouthful of eggs when I remember I have a delivery to make to my grandmother’s egg supplier: a watermelon she had traded for that was a little overripe to eat, but perfect for the chickens as a treat. I inform Primrose of this and we both spend a moment looking at his feet, contemplating his predicament. In the end, I pick up the receiver in my grandmother’s kitchen and call a carriage for him, waving away his words of thanks.

“I mean it,” he insists. “If this house had been empty, I’d have had to walk all the way back to town barefoot.”

“It would have taught you a lesson, at least,” I say, and this time I can’t help the little smirk that steals across my face.

Primrose laughs, loud and joyful. “You’re a viper! Can nothing I say earn me any sweetness?”

“You want sweetness?” I ask, and I can feel myself smiling now. “Don’t pass out in my garden next time.”

Primrose leans in across the porch where we’re awaiting his carriage. “‘Next time’?”

“Oh, don’t read into it,” I huff, shaking my head and leaning against the railing. “You want sweetness, you need a better impression than what you’ve given. There’s Mr. Higgens now.” I gesture with my glass of lemonade, and Primrose’s expression falls.

“Ah.” We’re silent as the carriage pulls up the dirt road to the front door, and I wave to the driver and exchange pleasantries as Primrose reluctantly heads down the front porch steps. He looks back up at me when his feet hit the dirt, and I almost laugh at the way his big blue eyes look almost childishly hopeful. “Would you soak me if I visited again?”

“I might,” I say nonchalantly, tilting my head this way and that. “I might not.”

Primrose grins, and all at once all the wind is under his sails again. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, waving exuberantly from the carriage after he’s boarded it. I wave back, bemused by the morning’s events, and watch the carriage until it disappears around a woody bend and completely out of view. I go back inside and wash the breakfast crockery, shaking my head at myself and my foolishness when I find the ruined ribbon in my pocket when I’m wiping my hands on my jeans.

What was I doing? I had a watermelon to deliver.

#exophilia #monster romance #monster boyfriend #mlm exophilia #orc boyfriend #Primrose #sfw #My work

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wind-becomes-lightning · 2 years

Text

March for Moots - Day 11 - four leaf clover

YamaSora for myself! Because I need happy Yamato sometimes

(Doing this little project with these prompts during march for my friends on here. A drabble a day keeps the depression away or something. Prev prompt.)

Yamato watched Sora make her way through the weeds that had overgrown their little garden in the wintertime. He could probably make them disappear with a hand clasp and a wink, but the work in the garden made her happy and when she was happy, he was happy.

“I wonder how early we have to plant the sunflowers for them to bloom in time for late summer and fall”, she murmured, sweat glistening in her neck. Yamato let the package of fresh earth down next to her. “Well, I think it needs to get a bit warmer still. The soil is still too cold.” He buried his hand in the field she was working.

Sora threw her head back. She was wearing her red hair in a ponytail high at the back of her head. “Sometimes it is like you are communicating with nature”, she said, smiling. “Like it talks with you and through you.

He blushed a little. He was not good with compliments, especially not when they referred to his chakra nature, which was not naturally his, something he was just borrowing from someone much stronger than him.

As if she’d read his thoughts Sora leaned forward to pull his ear: “Don’t even say it.” Yamato didn’t say it, instead he let his eyes fall shut just long enough for Sora to kiss him.

How could he have ever deserved something as sweet as this?

When he opened his eyes again they were instantly drawn to his right side, away from Sora. Something pulled him there, a force he couldn't quite explain. Yamato went with his hand through the grass until he found what he wasn’t looking for.

“Look”, he broke the little plant off. Sora looked back up at him and scooched a bit closer to have a better look. It was a very tiny plant, delicate between Yamato’s earthy fingers. “A four leaf clover”, she said with eyes wide. “How did you find it?”

He felt embarrassed again, as if telling her that it had been a hunch and nothing more would just get her to talk more about how nature spoke through him. “I had luck to find it”, he said and felt very cheeky about his answer.

“You sure did”, Sora smiled. “You are one lucky man when it comes to these natural phenomenons. Especially since you claim it has nothing to do with your nature.” He shook his head laughing a little. That callout.

“You are right,” he said, reaching over so he could put the little clover into the hairband of Sora’s ponytail. “I am a lucky man, but not because of that.” He cupped her face with his hand.

Sora’s eyes found his, the green in hers shining with love.

#oc: sora #march for the moots #im writing on something longer for them so i have many FEELINGS #almost forgot to post today ups

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seeyounexttime · 3 years

Text

Part 2 of the Black Clover online exhibition. Part 1 is here, please read that first. If you're an anime-only, you can go through part 1. However part 2 has manga spoilers, some that are very recent!

Now go back and select the gold/yellow box to go to the Devil and No Giving Up Magic Exhibit

Did you try to move left like in last year’s exhibit? Didn’t move much huh? This time you go the opposite direction~

“Not giving up magic” is even for devils to reach.

Formidable enemies who use top-ranking devils and do their best to be cruel. To fight against them, Asta, together with a devil, chose the path that surpasses limits. When Asta’s and the devil’s thoughts overlap each other, a new power awakens.

Liebe says “If you move to the right, you can see all sorts of things”

ASTA & LIEBE -- The boy who can’t use the magic that had been chosen by the five-leaf grimoire with the anti-magic devil that had been contained in the five-leaf grimoire.

Liebe says “Try tapping the framed picture”

A manga movie plays, showing us little Liebe’s life with Licita, his time in the grimoire, the first time Asta used each sword, the devil friending binding ritual, and sparring with Nacht

It ends with this layout:

Liebe says “We’re not at 100% yet. Let’s go back.”

ZENON & ??? -- One of the Dark Triad. User of space and bone magic. The devil he’s using is unidentified to this day.

When you tap on the Dark Triad’s framed pictures you get something like this:

Liebe says “Try swiping to the left”

For this one you move to the left and panels pop up as you go

This one is about Zenon’s attack on the Golden Dawn. As he summons more devil power, the edges of the screen glow red... and then:

Bone Magic “Eternal Fang”

The screen fills with bones and fades to black...

VANICA & MEGICULA -- One of the Dark Triad. Using the devil Megicula. User of curse-warding and blood magic.

As you move left and watch her attack on Heart unfold, again the edges begin to glow red, until:

Curse-Warding Magic “Exploding Life”

The runes rotate, glowing brighter, the screen shakes--a flash of white!

DANTE & LUCIFERO -- Using the devil Lucifero. User of gravity and body magic.

This one starts with his attack on the Black Bull’s hideout, continuing up to his duel with Yami, but ending after Yami calls for Asta’s help

Gravity Magic “Gravity Singularity”

The black hole spins, rocks rise, and all fades to black...

This broken wall is next, but nothing happens when you tap it. Liebe just asks you to tap framed pictures again. Hmm, well it’s only 80% so far right?

Please tell us your impressions of the devil-possessed works ☘ Instant Posting Magic ☘ Let's share and tell everyone that the special project "The Devil and the Never Give Up Magic Exhibition" is being held to commemorate the release of Volume 28 of Black Clover. 📖 Use Instant Posting Magic

Again, this opens up twitter. Liebe says “Let’s share with your friends”

Well let’s keep going then 🚶

Liebe says “What the? It looks really badly beaten up”

wait what happened? didn’t it used to look like this??

We’ve now entered the ruined section of last year’s exhibit... I’ll include the before pictures so you can compare more easily

We see Gimodelo’s shadow, and chibi Plumede; there’s now a framed picture of Nacht. Don’t touch anything yet.

Maybe it’s nothing, but I’ll note which pieces of dialogue got blacked out.

Vanessa’s line in the official translation “I’ll pull!! Just trust me and go!!” Specifically the word “I” is streaked out.

Asta’s dialogue was “We haven’t… given up yet!!!” The smeared speech bubble is the part that contained the words “not given up yet” but the other speech bubble with “we” remains.

Noelle’s was “Because I’ve been acknowledge by much greater people!!” The damaged speech bubble, that looks kinda like a burn stain, is the “because (I) was acknowledged” part. The other bubble that contains “by much greater people” remains.

Finral says “I’ll make the Black Bulls the strongest brigade!!” Finral uses the word オレ (ore) as his first person pronoun; half of it is missing. The verb that, in this case, was translated as “make” appears damaged.

Charmy’s speech bubble says “Asta” and his name is still visible.

Although the word Friendship is damaged, the kanji for “bonds” under it is untouched.

Chibi Walgner is here. In this panel, Noelle begins with “I am Noelle Silva of the Black Bulls!!” and the following speech bubble where she says “How DARE you hurt my friends and companions?!!” has a claw mark over it.

Now here’s chibi Gimodelo. Yami’s and Vangeance’s pictures are missing too.

Nozel says “I am the one who will become the wizard king.” The word “wizard king” is torn.

This is the panel where Charlotte said “I don’t need one. The battlefield is my lover.” The speech bubble that had “The battlefield is my lover” is missing.

It’s the thought bubble about Dorothy, “The real one’s incredibly chipper!!” that’s damaged. The word “real one” has a tear go through it.

Julius said “See how it feels to live in one unending moment.” The bubble that says “one unending moment” remains, so I guess you could say the “see how it feels to live” is partially torn. The word he used there 味わう (ajiwau) can mean “to taste, to savor; to appreciate, to enjoy; to experience, to go through” hmm…

Wait, but what were Yami and Vangeance saying in their frames?

Well, Yami was saying what you’d expect: “Surpass your limits. Right here. Right now. There’s no other way.”

Vangeance, “The time is at hand. Now the great tree will bloom!”

Chibi Slotos is here. The word that’s burned is 勝負 (shoubu) which means “competition” and “victory or defeat.” The missing kanji specifically means “victory, win” and the remaing one means “defeat, lose.” If you keep going, you’ll find that even the intro page of last year’s exhibit has a tear in it...

Do something for me. Go all the way to the left. All the way. Nothing there beyond the intro page for this year’s exhibit right? Okay, now go back to the Friendship portion and tap Nacht’s picture

Like with the previous Black Bull’s, you see panels about him. Liebe says “It seems to move by pinching out”

Liebe asks “Do you know that guy?” Tap the yellow button (which says “see details+”) to see a profile about him.

With that you’ve reached 100% and are taken back to the broken wall--!

“I can finally release my power”

“Geh heh heh... I’ll do something good”

It’s Devil Union Asta and Spirit Dive Yuno! Tap the frame to download the high-quality image :)

Now go all the way to the left again, all the way...

You weren’t there before... Is that Plumede? What happens if you poke them?

Nacht creates a Shadow Corridor and you get a preview of volume 28

※✧※

So do these exhibits foreshadow anything? Who knows... but how can you properly theorize and over-analyze without all the info~?

#black clover #zenon zogratis #vanica zogratis #dante zogratis #nacht faust #black clover exhibition #black clover spoilers #long post

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wonderwomanfantasy · 3 years

Text

snake in the clovers

all of the snake facts in this one are brought to you by my younger brother, all of the moss facts are brought to you, by me.

Naga! Aizawa x Fox! Reader

warnings: none

word count: 1,300 (about)

summary: a work-study in Mexico leads you to discover not only some fascinating bio diversity, but fascinating creatures as well.

Lots of your friends went to Mexico for spring break, I mean you were college students after all, but instead of spending a week getting trashed in Cancun or even on a beach somewhere in Cabo you were on a work-study with your botany class spending your time swatting mosquitoes away on the peeks of Sierra Mader Occidental, the mountains of Sinaloa.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way, where else would you be able to see this beautiful greenery surrounding you, and you should feel lucky to see Amoreuxia Gonzalezii bloom in person, The only real draw back wasn’t even where you were, but who you were with.

“Does this mushroom look poisonous to you?” Nate, a boy from your class who was also on the work-study. You glanced at the spore he was holding

“Its Amanita Verna,” you identified than when you saw the blank look on his eyes you added “Fools Mushrooms”

“So is it edible or not?” Nate asked. You huffed and swallowed a bitter responce.

“It’ll kill you in five to twenty-four hours and your death will be excruciating,” you said and Nate dropped the mushroom.

Maybe it was because of your fox-like quirk that you felt so close to nature, and why this field of study came so easy to you. Never the less you slightly resented your classmates for not taking the class as seriously as you did.

Just as you were thinking that you heard a loud shriek. You whirled and saw Amanda cowering from a patch of clover.

“S-Snake!” She whaled. You stepped closer and saw the snake in question. He was a medium length and striped with black and gray scales. Phyllorhynchus browni. his pink forked tongue poked out and he stalked slithering towards Amanda. You quickly grabbed him holding him aloft so she didn’t stomp him out of reflex.

“Jesus Christ! Drop that thing before it kills you!” She yelled.

“It’s not Venoumus,” you said flatly dropping the snake to the side and watching it slither away into a nearby bush.

“Of course you’d be able to tell,” Amanda scoffed, embarrassed now that the apparent danger was gone. “I bet you were planning on eating that thing if we weren’t here to judge you,” She sneered. The others laughed before your professor quieted them. You could feel your cheeks go pink.

“Just because I’m a fox doesn’t mean I eat snakes,” you murmured, but no one was listening. The hike continued, deeper into the woods. Taking notes, pictures, and samples of the local flora as you went.

“We should start heading back down the mountain,” your professor said you looked up at the sky and saw the sun hanging surprisingly low in the sky. How time flys when studying fungi and soil you guessed.

“Hey (y/n),” Nate snickered falling in step beside you as the class made its way back down the trail.

You weren’t supper in the mood to be teased but you answered him anyway. “What is it?”

“Well I was looking at this moss-” he unclenched his hand and showed you a patch off moss in his palm “-and I wondered if you could use your fox senses or whatever to tell me what it is,”

You could hear other people laughing behind you but you ignored it.

“It’s sphagnales,” you said simply.

“Okay, but what’s the lamen term- you know what would the rest of us normal people call it?”

“Sphagnales,” you frowned. Not understanding what he was saying, sphagnales didn’t have a common name.

You were looking at him confused when you stepped down on a vine and your ankle rolled. You yelped and fell staggering back. You had been distracted by the moss and you hadn’t been paying attention to what part of the trail right next to a sharp drop into a ravine. You felt your stomach drop as you fell. You clawed wildly for something to grab. Nate’s eyes went wide and he reached for you. He missed.

You wailed as you fell through the trees, crashing against the solid ground before rolling down again. You landed against the thick trunk of a tree and finally, the world stopped spinning. You couldn’t breathe there was a seaering pain in your left leg, your vision was swimming. There were scratches along your face and arms some of them were bleeding. You needed to call out, yell so your class could find you. But you couldn’t muster it. Your vision went blurry, then completely black.

Dimly you heard the sound of dripping water. Your body ached and slowly, you forced your eyes open. The first thing you saw, once your eyes adjusted to the darkness, were dozens of tiny purple flowers on the ceiling of the cave you were in. Barkeria Dorotheae. A type of orchid local only to these mountains.

Where were you? You remembered falling down the mountain-side but not how you had come here. You shifted and realized you were on something soft and downy, that’s when you heard the voice.

“Don’t try to move, you’re hurt badly,” you looked and saw a man with long black hair and stubble looking at you from the mouth of the cave, at least the top half of him was a man, the bottom half of him was a coiled scaley tail. He unfurled himself and slithered towards you. It was hard to see color in the dim light but you made out the color of his scales, black, and grey stripes.

You’d read stories of Naga, creatures that were half snake half man. You remembered reading in at least some myths that these snake-men were helpful. And since you really had no other choice, you decided to trust this man and stay still like he asked.

“Where m I?” you croaked, your voice raspy from lack of use.

“Still on Sierra Mader Occidental, just in a cave on the mountain,” he explained, curling up next to you in the nest.

“What- why-?”

“When I found you, you were unconscious and badly hurt and unconscious, so I took you here to dress your wounds but you still need rest, your party continued down the mountain, planning to come back for you tomorrow when it’s light out and with help,” He explained and you saw that he had in fact bandaged you up.

“Oh, I don’t know how to thank you,” you breathed.

“It’s fine, I couldn’t just let you die there,” he grunted. As you looked at him you realized how handsome he was.

“What is your name?” you asked.

“You can call me Shota,”

“Well, I’d still like to thank you Shota, for all you’ve done for me,”

“Like I said think nothing of it,” he repeated.

“Do you think they, er my classmates that is, do you think they will find me here?” you asked and silently you wondered if half of your class would even bother looking for you, it wasn’t like any of them liked you.

“I’ll do my best to lead them here,” he said, then added “most people aren’t as calm when they see me as you were,”

“And what if they don’t find me?” you croaked.

“I am more than prepared to provide for you until you are well again, or until you are found, whichever comes first, and if you don’t mind me saying, I saw the way those humans interacted with you I almost think you would do better in the forest here then where ever you are from,” he said. You thought about it. You had always liked camping, spend days alone out in the forest alone. And it wouldn’t be bad to live in these beautiful woods with an equally beautiful creature.

#aizawa shouta #bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #imagine aizawa #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #my hero acadamy #my hero academia head cannon #my hero academia fantasy

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lordoftermites · 3 years

Text

OF CLOVER & IRON

Part One

Pairing: Roiben x Kaye

Summary: fluff(ish), angst, obligatory smut (later). fluffish smangst, let's go with that.

My first fic for these two—and all around the first one I've ever written, period. I finally got to a point that I can confidently post parts 1 & 2 without obsessive editing so yeet haw let's fuckin go. Set the day after Ironside Ch. 13. {there's a slight deviation of the wound placements also, because I just really wanted to see Kaye lovingly take care of her Emo Black Knight™. Everything else is canon-compliant. I hope.}

Rating: M for suggestive themes, smut in future chapters

Also I was listening to Beautiful Crime by Tamer and If You Care by Evan Barlow the whole time and if those aren't the most Roiben songs I've ever fucking heard—

*buzzfeed voice* let's get into it

________________

Each step I left behind Each road you know is mine Walking on a line ten stories high Say you'll still be by my side If I could take your hand, oh If you could understand That I can barely breathe, the air is thin I fear the fall and where we'll land

"You realize I have attendants for this, don't you?"

Roiben was reclined, rather awkwardly, against the mountain of plush pillows on his bed. Their down stuffing jutted through the timeworn fabric and pricked along the sensitive skin of his bare back.

While the gash Talathain's sword had wrought the day before had since been cleaned and bandaged, the end of those feathers still managed to find their way through to jab at the still-open wound, eliciting from him a wince, as though he needed reminding of the events that had transpired had, in fact, transpired.

Ruefully, Roiben found that he did not need reminding.

"Mhmm, I know." Kaye replied absently beside him, drawing him back to the present. She was perched on the edge of the bed, inky-black gaze fixed on his hand in her lap; she was gently applying a viscous paste to the scarlet, angry line along his palm—another gift from Silarial's green knight. The mixture had a cooling element to it, not at all unpleasant against the dull burn of the wound. Kaye was careful, dedicated as she worked. Her tender, feather-light touches sent an involuntary shiver down the base of Roiben's spine.

“I admit, I do not mislike having you for a nursemaid instead of an ill-tempered hob." He grinned down at her as she finished, gently wrapping a milky-white cloth around the pad of his hand, tying it off in a small knot at the base of his wrist. He didn’t think anyone in his service would have tended to him with such attentive care; actually, they very well may have relished an opportunity to see him wince. Indeed, he much preferred this.

She glanced up at him through thick lashes and gave him a small smile of her own, but it faltered on her features, wavered there until it faded into something Roiben couldn't name. "I guess,” she began, dropping her gaze back down to his newly-dressed hand in hers. “I just wanted to do… something, for a change." Roiben's brow knitted at the sadness in her voice, the way the guilt, thoroughly misplaced, steeped her words. There was a twinge in his chest that was reminiscent of the arrow she had pulled from it not four months prior. Automatically, his hand reached up to touch the new scar, a rose-tinted indentation in the middle of his sternum. A phantom ache bloomed under his fingers.

She had been only a human girl then, guised as she was, and unfortunate enough to be the one to find him bleeding out, collapsed there against the gnarled tree he would have gladly let become his grave. She had saved his very soul that night in the rain, though neither of them had known it at the time. It was very likely she still didn't.

And here she was again, nursing the consequences of his own obstinate pride and blaming herself for it. Too often, too willingly did she take the weight of his burdens as her own, while he futilely sought to keep her safe from them. Safe from him. She was the most stubbornly kind creature he had ever known; a knight of her own design—a savior he had never had any right to.

Roiben reached out to tuck a loose tendril of viridescent hair behind her ear. The slight movement pulled at the lesion on his back, threatening another wince. He resisted. "Kaye," he started, and when she didn't meet his eyes, he crooked a finger under her chin and canted her head to him.

"There is nothing you have done—not since the moment I met you to now, that was not something." His thumb ran over her emerald jawline, the smooth skin silk in contrast to the roughness of his own. Kaye's eyes fluttered and she leaned into his touch. "I know it is my failure, in not telling you as such, that you mistakenly think yourself so inadequate. For that, I am well and truly sorry."

Through the burning discomfort of his wounds, Roiben drew her down to him and captured her mouth in a kiss. He had never been a master of apologies— or much else for that matter. And for reasons he was unable to name, his way of begging Kaye's pardon seemed to often be sought with his mouth, as if he hoped she could taste it on his tongue— and forgive him with her own.

Her lips, softer than satin and more delectable than any wine he had ever tasted, parted in a soft, lilting sigh. The sound, as it so often did, caused the muscles in his lower abdomen to coil with a rush of warmth. His bandaged fingers moved to tangle in her wild hair as her tongue danced between his teeth, languorous at first, then quickly shifting into something nearer to frenzy. He could feel his pulse quicken, the familiar strain across the front of his trousers when her hand splayed his chest, soft fingertips pressing into his bare skin. His breath hitched.

And then Kaye's lips were gone and she was pushing herself back up, away from him, her breathing ragged. He watched her dazedly, lamenting the abrupt loss of her closeness. She combed a hand through her mess of green hair, and Roiben realized she was trembling. He frowned.

"What is it?" he asked, drawing himself up to a sitting position, jaw clenched against the sharp tug of the bandage stretching from his shoulder to his hip. "Have I done something to displease you?" He glanced down, sliver gaze settling on a fraying thread of gauze on his wrist. "Perhaps my apology wasn't quite the one you were looking for, but I—"

"That's not it." Kaye cut him off, and when he looked back up to meet her eyes, he was disconcerted to find their pitch depths were suddenly glistening. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kaye raised a hand to forestall him. He pressed his lips together, obediently falling mute. "It… it's not you. I mean, it's a little bit you. Okay— maybe it's a lot you. But… I'm just…" She let out a frustrated groan, as though she couldn't quite manage to untangle whatever thought she was trying to get out. The back of her hand swiped angrily across her eyes.

Roiben knew she hated crying, but he was unsure whether it was explicitly crying in front of him, or if it was the act altogether. Whatever the reason, there was a nagging in his gut, a temptation to reach up and wipe away the glittering tear that rolled down the curve of her verdant cheek.

But he stayed patiently, painfully silent beside her, fingers worrying the fabric over his knuckles instead as she worked through unweaving her mind. Roiben found himself suddenly wishing he had the power to read it, if only to help wrench her free of whatever trap that held her there, apart from him. Finally, she sighed—a dispirited sound that reverberated through the otherwise quiet stillness of his chambers.

"Why did you come back? Why did you find me at the diner? Why did you choose me?"

The string of questions— rather, the way she asked them, whispered, bordering on anguish, stung him like the gilded edge of Talathain's blade. Roiben gaped at her, for a moment too stunned to respond. Her expression was contorted slightly, the emotions that coursed through her scrambling over one another to find purchase on her face. Still, she held his gaze with an unwavering severity that bored into his very being and rooted him to the spot.

He knew she would not accept his usual indirect summarizations, those with which he so carefully guarded himself. He was now well beyond the safety of that delicate thread of tightroped truths he danced.

She expected—commanded his unreserved forthrightness, with that look that held the power of his name without it ever needing to cross her lips.

#this is my pride and joy ok #i don't think i've ever written something with so much effort #i was terrified it'd be purple-prosey but i *think* it's ok?#whatever even if it is i fuckin love it #and miss black herself said to write what you love first #so there it is #roiben #rath roiben rye #kaye fierch #kaye x roiben #mft #tmft #modern faerie tales #tfota #the folk of the air #tfota fic

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jobrookekarev · 2 years

Text

House of Stone, Your Ivy Grows

Chapter Two of Four: Spring breaks loose, the time is near, what would she do if she found us out?

Words: 3,677

Summary: After reconnecting at a conference in Kansas City, Alex and Jo meet up at the stone cottage covered in ivy that he had been fixing up. They spend the night together despite their relationships and although they break it off, what they did inevitably, brings them back together

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, and Alex Karev/Izzie Stevens.

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, and Izzie Stevens.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences.

Additional Tags: Affairs, Confrontations, Consequences, Secret Relationship, Chance Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

……………………………………………………………………

Izzie Stevens watched Alex change. It was as sudden as the haircut he gave himself the first day he came back from the conference. Suddenly, he was happier. He no longer put on a smile only when the twins were around. He started spending more time with the twins in the evenings, instead of spending time with her, he went to work on his cottage.

To say she was suspicious was an understatement, but she had no idea he was having an affair. That is until she watched the dark brunette woman sneak up her driveway and meet Alex at the cottage. That night she crept up the driveway and watched through the window as Alex kissed and then fucked this other woman. But when she went to confront him and his mistress, she got an emergency page from the hospital and had to go in. That night she left the twins with their nanny, having decided she no longer trusted her cheating husband.

The realization that her husband was having an affair made her blood boil. She knew that Alex was with her more out of obligation to their children, but they were married, and that meant something to her. He acted like he loved her, although they rarely slept in the same bed. Izzie knew he would need time to heal after his divorce and she was working with him.

Yet, here he was back together with his ex-wife after less than a week. It made her even angrier when she found out the identity of the mysterious woman was none other than her husband's ex-wife Josephine Wilson. Izzie had only seen her in the picture of them on their wedding day that Alex kept hidden in his wallet. Izzie silently fumed for the rest of the day. She waited to confront him until they were alone, but if he wasn't at the conference, he was with the twins, and as soon as they went to bed, Alex left. However, it was already Friday and she didn't get the chance to talk to Alex until after the conference was over.

By then, he was back to his usual mopey self, at least for a little while. Clearly, Jo had gone back to Seattle without him. Although Alex still went to the cottage at night, she knew he was alone. She even spent some time with him there, but he no longer kissed her. It was a start and Izzie thought she could steal Alex back once again. Because although he had cheated, Jo had left and he had come back to her. He had chosen her once again and Izzie felt smug in his choice.

It wasn't until she picked up Jo’s call that she found out the affair had never truly stopped.

It was a busy weekday morning and Alex was chasing after the twins, trying to get them ready for school. Izzie was in the kitchen getting breakfast ready, staring out at the spring clover that bloomed in the horse fields. Alex’s phone rang as it sat on a charger on the kitchen counter and Izzie absentmindedly reached for it. She saw the name Taylor flash across the call screen as she picked it up.

“Hey, this is Dr. Stevens, Dr. Karve's wife. Unfortunately, he’s not available right now, can I take a message for him?” Izzie said, holding the phone up to her ear.

Eli came racing in, reaching for a hot muffin from the tin she had just pulled from the oven before Izzie shooed him away. There was silence on the other line, although Izzie could hear someone take in air as they gasped.

“Hello, is anybody there?” Izzie asked again, pulling the phone away to see the screen to ensure that the call had connected and it did, but before she could say anything else, the caller hung up.

“Is that my phone?” Alex asked, coming into the kitchen with Alexis thrown over his shoulder as she giggled. He set her down in the chair up against the counter next to Eli as the twins started to eat the breakfast Izzie had set out for them.

“Yeah, it was ringing and you were busy, so I figured I'd answer it. It was someone named Taylor?” Izzie asked, raising her eyes at him as panic flashed across Alex's face, but he quickly schooled with his features.

“What did they say?” Alex asked, trying to remain casual, although she could tell he was worried.

“Nothing, they hung up on me,” Izzie said, her eyes narrowing at him. “Who's Taylor?”

“Oh yeah, it's just a colleague I met at the conference. We're working on a case together with a patient of theirs,” Alex said with a shrug as he reached for a plate of his own.

“Oh really, what kind of case are you working on,” Izzie asked, raising her eyebrows at him. She knew Alex was lying.

Yet, Alex just shrugged as he shoved a muffin into his mouth. “Just a pediatrics case. I can't really talk about it, you know, HIPPA and all.”

Izzie just nodded, knowing she wouldn't get anything more out of Alex. Although he carefully watched her as she put his phone back on the charger. But when he went to get the twin's backpacks, Izzie snooped through his phone. She guessed his password long ago, 6918, because of course it was, but he thought she didn't know it.

She quickly found a line of calls back and forth to Taylor, going back to the date of the conference. However, rather than the calls being during work hours, they were often taken late at night or early in the morning. It wasn’t until she saw the texts that she realized that Taylor was a pseudonym for Jo Wilson. Izzie thought that the affair ended when Jo went back to Seattle, but apparently, the two of them had been in contact ever since. The text spelled out the illicit details of their affair.

It's then that a new text pops up from Jo. ‘Alex, I really need to talk to you! Please call me when you can. I don't want to tell you this over the phone, but I need to speak to you in person. I can fly into Kansas tonight and stay for a few days. Link has already agreed to watch Luna. I just, I really need to see you!’

Izzie's lips parted as she read the text again. She heard Alex upstairs with the twins. She knew she didn't have much time and quickly texted Jo back.

‘I can't call you as I'll be in surgery all day, but if you come to Kansas, I'll meet you at the cottage tonight.’ Izzie anxiously pocketed the phone, hyper-aware of it sitting in her pocket as she waited for Jo’s reply.

Thankfully she didn't have to wait too long before it vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out to read Jo's response. ‘Thank you, I'm heading to the airport now and I'll text you when I land. I can't wait to see you again.’

Izzie can't help but stare at the text and the words Jo has said to him. Still, she regained her composure and texted back, confirming the time. Then, she deleted the texts and blocked Jo's number so Alex wouldn't get any more calls or texts from her. Then she put Alex's phone back on the charger, finished her breakfast, and went to work. It surprised her how easy it was to focus on work while she waited to meet her husband's mistress. Although it never left her mind.

Finally, night came. Izzie was doing the dishes and watching the road from the window when she saw Jo Wilson sneak up the driveway. She gives herself a moment to take a breath before rinsing out the pot in her hands. Then she put the pot on the drying rack and grabbed the tea towel from the oven rack to dry her hands.

She went over into the living room where Alex was cleaning up the board game, having already sent the twins up to brush their teeth. “Can you put the twins to bed? I have to go to the hospital.”

“Yeah, what time are you gonna be home?” Alex said, standing up with the board game and Alexis’s little stuffed bunny.

“I’m not sure, but probably in an hour or so,” Izzie said with a shrug.

“Okay,” Alex said, putting the game away on the shelf.

Izzie hated this, she hated that Alex didn’t care to say anything more to her. There was no intimacy between them and she hated that it drove him further into Jo's arms. She knew that if she wanted to keep Alex, she would have to offer him the affection he wanted.

“When I get back, why don't you and I talk,” Izzie said, going up to him, she turned him around and put a hand on his cheek, but Alex stepped away from her.

“Stop,” Alex said, stepping out of her arms. “Why do you keep doing this, why do you keep trying to act like we’re in a relationship?”

“Because you married me, Alex!” Izzie said, trying to step closer to him.

“I married you so I could be a father to the twins, my kids because you wouldn't give me custody any other way. This has always been a marriage of convenience and nothing more. You knew that when we got into this. You knew that I wasn't here because I loved you. I don't love you Izzie and after all of the crap that you’ve put me through, I never will.”

Alex turned and stomped up the stairs, leaving her alone. Izzie gritted her teeth and threw the towel down on the floor. Alex might not be hers, but if she had it her way tonight, he wouldn’t be Jo’s either. She raced out the door, forgoing her jacket, although, in the early spring night, she didn't need one. She ran up to the stone cottage and saw how much it had changed. Alex had fixed it up, and now it looked like a cozy little cottage. Especially with the warm yellow glow coming from the windows and smoke from the fireplace.

But it wouldn't be Alex’s home and it certainly wouldn't be Jo’s. Izzie pulled open the cottage door, ready to confront her husband's mistress. Jo turned around, but the smile fell from her face as soon as she saw Izzie standing there, instead of Alex.

……………………………………………………………………

There was a little crescent moon in the sky dotted with stars and a few gray clouds. Jo parked at the end of the driveway and checked that the coast was clear before she started the familiar walk to the stone cottage. She was used to the nervous twist in her gut that she got as she passed by Izzie's house, but she didn't dare look in the windows as she crept by. She had no idea what Izzie was going to do when she found out, but she knew that they couldn't keep what they had done a secret any longer. When she left, she ended their affair, but little did she know, it was only the beginning.

The second Jo stepped into the stone cottage covered in ivy, she felt a sense of calm that only Alex could ever bring her. Unlike every other time he met her there, he wasn't there when she stepped in. Still, given her early arrival, she wasn't surprised. Jo quickly started a fire in the fireplace warming the small cottage since he hadn’t installed central heating. As she looked around the home, she remembered what Alex said before she left last time. He had offered her a place here, in his heart and in his home. She knew he would make that same offer now, and she knew that this time, she would accept.

The cottage was small, only two bedrooms, but they could make it work. She and Alex would move into the master bedroom and they could turn the second bedroom into a nursery. She wasn't sure what they would do if they had the twins stay with them, but maybe they could add on another room, they would need it. This could be their home and they could be a family.

Jo put a hand over the prominent bump that seemed to have appeared overnight, now that she was eight weeks along. She couldn't believe it took her so long to realize she was pregnant. She’s had terrible morning sickness for the past month, but she had convinced herself that it was just the flu she had picked up from her toddler. Yet, since she had started showing, there was no denying the baby growing inside of her. She had specifically worn the tight t-shirt to accentuate her bump. Jo wanted Alex to know the second he saw her. She couldn't wait to see the smile on his face when he saw their baby.

She was pulled from her thoughts as the front door opened and she smiled as she turned around. She dropped her hand from her belly and instead reached for the ultrasound in her pocket, but Alex wasn't waiting for her in the doorway.

Jo froze as she stared at her ex-husband’s wife. “Izzie, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Izzie asked with accusing eyes as she glared at Jo and stepped into the cottage. “What are you doing here?”

Jo dropped her hand and pulled at her coat, trying to hide her bump now. “I'm just here to talk to Alex, that’s it.”

“Oh really, so you're not here to fuck him? Like you were doing a month and a half ago?” Izzie said, her words filled with so much hate that Jo took a step back.

Staring into the face of someone who hated her, Jo couldn’t help the image of Paul that flashed in her mind. She was taking back the night after she found out she was pregnant and he threw her against the wall. She didn't know Izzie, she didn't know what she was capable of, but the look on her face told Jo that she wanted to beat her into a pulp.

“I'm here to talk to Alex and that's it,” Jo insisted again, standing up a little taller, she refused to let Izzie frighten her.

“Well, Alex isn't here, so talk to me?” Izzie said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and standing her ground.

“No, This is between Alex and I,” Jo said, trying to remain composed and not give anything away to Izzie.

“Well, I'm sure you won't have any problem telling me,” Izzie said, raising an eyebrow. “He is my husband after all and we don't keep secrets in our marriage.”

Jo couldn't help but scoff at that, and she smiled before quickly putting a hand over her mouth. “Oh really, so you know that Alex lost his favorite patient last week?”

Jo watched the confusion cross Izzie's face and she knew he hadn't told her. She knew because Alex had called her crying and told her all about Nickie and the failed Norwood procedure. She sat on the phone from 1,400 miles away, wishing she could teleport through the phone and hold him while he sobbed to her on the other end of the line. Alex always said she was one of the only people he could cry in front of. He always said he could be who he was with her and no one else and she knew that was still true.

Jo took in a breath as she took a step forward. “Where's Alex?”

“My husband is back home with our children. Where he should be!” Izzie shouted with all of the malice that she could muster as she glared at Jo.

Her raised voice made Jo jump, which Izzie seemed to take satisfaction in, but as she reeled, she put a hand over her bump. Izzie caught her hand and her glare extended down and she looked at her stomach. In an instant, Jo knew what Izzie had seen. Her hands went to her belly as she cradled her bump with both hands, as if she could protect her baby from what she knew was coming next.

“You're pregnant!” Izzie yelled at her, unable to keep the anger from her voice as Jo recoiled.

When she snuck into the ultrasound room and saw her and Alex's baby for the first time, she was overjoyed. Still, she knew that she was throwing a bomb into Alex's life. Jo never intended for things to go this way. She knew it was wrong to have an affair with Alex. Yet, when she first met him here, at the cottage, she couldn't help but love him again. Jo had him first, and when she was with him here, it felt like she was only stealing him back. When she went back to Seattle, she made things right and broke up with her fiance. She still kept in touch with Alex, but she made it clear that until he left Izzie, they could only be friends. Even as she held his baby in her belly.

“I told you that this was between Alex and I, but I was wrong. It does involve you too. I'm sorry that we cheated. Still, we never intended to create this baby, and I broke things off with Alex after I left when the conference ended. We've talked, yes, but we're just friends, because I respected you enough, not to do what you did to me. Or don’t you remember that I was his wife first? That you're the one who cheated first and stole him away. You lied to him about his children and kept them from him. I'm here because I love Alex enough to tell him about his child before they’re born. So he can be there from the beginning. I'm here because I love him enough not to do that regardless of what happens because of it.”

Jo stood up taller, no longer allowing herself to be intimidated by Izzie. She could tell that Izzie was a bit taken aback too. She visibly recoiled, pulling back and putting a hand on her chest as if she was offended by the truth. Even though Alex had left her of his own volition, she knew that if Izzie had told Alex about the twins when they were first conceived, none of this would have happened. Alex would have gone to be with her as soon as he found out and Jo would have moved on. It was Izzie’s actions that got the ball rolling on the boulder that crashed through Jo’s life.

“What happened in the past doesn't matter. Alex married me. He's with our kids and me. We're together!” Izzie's voice got higher and higher until she was shrieking at Jo.

“Oh, really, you two are together? He told me everything. You and Alex might be married on paper, but I know that that’s where the marriage ends. I know that you’re not in love and that he hasn’t been intimate with you. You loved him once upon a time. Do you really want him to be miserable just so he can be with you? Let him go, Izzie. Let him be happy, please.”

“Let him go, so he can be with you?” Izzie sneered, taking a step forward, but Jo stood her ground

“Yes,” Jo said, squaring her shoulders. “But I don't have to argue this with you. Alex is his own person and he can make his own decisions. I came here so he could decide what he wanted to do and so that he could be a part of his child's life. That's it.”

“You adulterous whore, you're lying! You came to steal my husband!” Izzie screamed, looking completely unhinged with her eyes large and wild and her blond curls flying free as she shook her head.

“I may be an adulterer, but I'd look in the mirror before you call me that again,” Jo said, sounding more confident, although she felt as her heart pounded in her chest.

Izzie didn't respond and Jo was done trying to fight her. She wanted out, out of this situation, out of this house and so she moved to walk past Izzie. She wouldn't fight her for Alex. She would tell him the truth and then let him decide what he wanted to do, just like she had said.

She walked out of the living room that had once been just furniture draped in cloth but was now starting to look like a home. Although, it was still a construction site with wooden boards on the table. It could still be her home, but not if Izzie was still there. As Jo walked over to the door, she didn't even hear Izzie pick up the board of wood lying on the table, nor did she see what she did with it until it was too late.

……………………………………………………………………

AN: Oh no, what is Izzie gonna do? Also, for those who didn't catch it, Alex's password, 6918 or June 9th, 2018 is the date of Jo and Alex’s first wedding.

#jo wilson #alex karev #jolex #izzie stevens #grey's anatomy #otp: home and heart #grey's anatomy fanfic #my work #my writing #my fanfiction #HoSYIG #HoSYIG 2

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