#…i wonder if those jackets are still in my dad’s attic or not

[rossithepixie]

A thing @chuuminn made of chuuya and i that made me laugh 😆

[jonah-aesthetic]

That One Pt.3 I Jonah Marais

Jonah Marais X Reader / Ivette X Daniel Seavey

Plot: Jonah kidnaps the reader into showing her who he is. They’re something like friends as she faces the deal her dad gives her to change her career path. Ivette couldn’t be more supportive for her best friend. 

Word count: 5.6k

Author’s Note: Um this series is longer then I thought oh well I’m proud of it. I wish I put in more Jonah, but next part with hopefully have that as your relationship blossoms. Um I just realised Jonah is a pianist and not a guitarist I feel so dumb for making that mistake. Not edited.

Rating: 16+ 

One Two

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Days continued to past by like seasons, painfully slow. As if you were waiting for the October breeze in the middle of summer. Finals came and gone shedding you of dreading nights of studying, coffees with seven espresso shots, and long early 2000s playlists. You haven’t heard from Trey since the night of the party and you assumed weren’t going to hear from him again. 

You were still furious with Jonah, he had you in his bed and said nothing about it. He was probably use to having girls in his bed and didn’t bother making an excuse. Your heart grew fonder from him as the days went on as your brain’s resentment bloomed stronger. The great battle between the brain and the heart has begun. 

“You know you could come with us.” Ivette’s voice sliced through your thoughts. You both were curled into each other on your double bed in your one person dorm. A soft white fleece blanket cover in orange pumpkins engulfed the both of you, Bottles of pop scattered all around you as well as bags of candies and chips. The light was off as you both watch To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before for the tenth time this week. 

“To the gala?” You asked with an amused eyebrow. The gala in question was the annual auto auction for richest families in the city. This year it was a 1956 Breathtaking Chevrolet Corvette Convertible. Gorgeous metals, pristine cherry red paint, and an engine purred like nothing before. It was a car that you’d probably kill for.

“Yes, I know you hate them-” 

“I don’t hate them, I severely don’t like them. There’s a difference.”  

“There’s really not. Anyways it’d be fun if you came. You’d get to mingle with hot Richies and maybe take one home for the night.” Ivette made her voice as innocent as she could. Leaning more into your side with brown puppy dog eyes. 

“You’re going with Daniel I don’t want to crash the date and Julie thinks Jonah and I are together.” You sigh looking at your moving feet under the thin blanket. They poke out revealing your still healing wounds, starting yo close with nothing but tiny scars. Jonah was very precise with disinfecting them. Without him they would’ve been infected deeply right now. 

“Okay, it’s up to you.” Ivette didn’t push. She knew there was something going on between the two of you. Your best friend didn’t know exactly what but it was something, she didn’t tell you what to do wanting you to figure it out on your own. Sometimes you wish she’d push ans prod at you about it, but at the same time you were grateful for her. 

“I love you.” You say giving her a small smile, she returned the words and hugged you close to her. Your phone rang and buzzed on your night stand cutting the moment you were sharing with your best friend. You felt Ivette move as she reached for it,  confusion etch into her dark brows. “Who is it?” you ask.

“Its..It’s your dad.” You sat up at the information, shock running in your veins. “What.” You asked dubious, you grasp the phone into your hands not believing what she had said. Your dad’s name glowed at the top on the screen with the a blank picture. He didn’t deserve one. You glanced at Ivette, she shared the same expression you did. Then you answered it.

“Y/n How has the semester been going?” His voice was almost robotic. Of course the only thing he cared about was the family legacy that you didn’t want.

“Why are you calling me?” You ask coldly remembering  the last time you interacted with him. In your room throwing everyone of your paintings is a box telling you that this wasn’t a career path he wanted you on. He never saw the hours you spend on them, never cared to actually look at what you brought to live. 

He found a premed program and you were going to attend weather you wanted to or not. Of course he told you he didn’t want to see your life fade out and he was doing this because he cared about you. Your dad continued to put your life’s work into the attic with no further discussion. At that point you were mentally drain and didn’t fight him on it. 

“Look I know I haven’t been fair to you. I just..I didn’t want to see you sit there and do nothing with your life. I thought painting was a hobby not a passion, but I went up into the attic recently and saw them tucked into the corner. I was amazed at what you created with a brush and a little colour.” His voice had more expression in it. 

“What are you getting at? I was busy,” You say glance at Ivette sitting against the head bored observation written in her eyes. Chewing at her raw finger tips. 

“If you can sell one of your painting for two grand you can drop out. And I’ll put you through art school.” He sighed like he was already regretting his discussion. 

“Are you serious?” You asked not being about to control your excitement. He was giving you a chance even if it was just a sliver it was something. 

“Yes you’re miserable I know this because you haven’t said anything me for two years.” regret dripping in his voice.

“Two grand for one painting?” You asked as if you didn’t hear him word for word.

“Yes those are my conditions, don’t make me regret it.” The line goes dead and you stare at the wall flabbergasted still processing the information.    

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I pressed his body against the wall with the all the strength I had. He could over power me with any wrong move I chose to make. The silver tip of my dagger tug into his throat, olive skin sizzled under the touch of it making the Alpha seethe at the pain you were inflicting on him. 

Do you think you can over power me little Omega the humour in his question was like venom

Where is Kaden I growled at him, the anger and fear raiding off me. 

I killed him, I couldn't have my precious mate fall in love with a pathetic human 

Without thinking you ran the dagger across his throat, the skin parting and burning at the touch of it. Red blood erupted from the cut, flowing down the blade and my hands. Shock was written in his eyes and a whimper left his lips. 

I loved you he accused as his blood choked out of his mouth and bubbled at the fresh cut on his throat. I never loved you it was a lie to get him back. I seethed at him, 

Ungrateful I gave you this kingdom. I ga-  the dagger found the way into his heart cutting off his wretched words. Warm blood splattered across my face and it felt like sweet sweet revenge upon him. I plunged the dagger deeper into his chest, feeling the way it pierced through his heart. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, body falling limp to the ground your grasp on him faltering. 

I felt the second he died, the breaking of the matting bond and the power of the alpha swarm into my body. Redemption w-his green eyes stalked onto me-wait that didn't happen!

The Presence of Him tore you from the beautiful universe of werewolves. Ink appeared on the pages of the book between your fingers again. Jonah leaned against a book shelve half covered by your book. You narrowed your eyes and glared at him. Sighing heavily you reluctantly put your book down, you were at a good part and wasn't exactly happy to be interrupted. 

“What do you want? I’m currently busy.” You Grumble at him from a bay window inside the library. The sky was reaching a midnight blue as the stars gleamed and sparkled. Lights inside didn’t shine as bright as the ones at Chocolate Shop, those ones were luminescent. Threading through Jonah’s curls and making them gorgeously lighter. His eyes were a bright green that seems to call your name-stop!

“Sorry to interrupt, must of been a good part from the expression you were making.” He says leaning against a book shelf watching you from your little nook. The leather jacket he wore circled his lean biceps flawlessly, He wore all black. His bruises before had faded and healed clean as the grey lion pendant dangled at his chest. 

“You did. But now that you’re hear might as well get on with it.” You say now wondering what expression you were making awhile reading. 

“Ivette didn’t tell you? Her phone must be dead.” Confusion was displayed on his sharp features. At the small mention of Ivette being in trouble you scrambled for your phone. Mind scattering on what could of possible happened to her when Daniel was on watch. Heart picking up speed as you found that the useless device in your hands was dead. 

“What happened to her?” You ask abruptly, getting to your feet and forgetting about your book. “Calm down, she’s fine. No limbs missing and all her blood is in tact.” Jonah says easing your raging mind. “Ivette’s tire pressure was too high, she ran over a massive rock and it exploded.” 

“Well what are you waiting for lets go.” You insist walking past him urgent to see if Ivette was truly okay. Sure Jonah said she was but you had to see for yourself. “Your book.” Jonah called over his shoulder, still in the same position watching you amazed. “Right my book.” You mumble to yourself as you go back and retrieved it on the velvet cushion. 

Jonah’s Jeep had the harsh contrast of Ivette’s Range, while hers smelled of cherries and light vanilla Jonah’s had smelled of sandalwood and cinnamon. The heavy aroma of a male was evident in the seat of the passenger seat. Radio hummed like that night of the party, Jonah’s fingers drummed to the beat. His rings clanking against the steering wheel and you wondered what they’s feel like dancing on your soft skin. What would his warm fingers feel like gripping your chin while he made you look into his green eyes. Stop. 

“What street was it on?” You asked still looking outside the passenger window. Head resting in your palm watching the trees pass on the highway. You wondered what happened to Ivette’s heels, because they weren’t sitting on the floor of Jonah’s vehicle anymore.

“I lied.” Jonah says coolly, your head snaps to him. “What do you mean you lied?” Your voice furious. “Ivette is at the fraternity watching Frozen 2 with Daniel and Zach.” His voice nonchalant as he kept his eyes on the road. 

“Stop this car Jonah or I swear I’ll jump out.” You threatened, your hand on the door knob. “You’re not go-” You unbuckle your seat belt, pulling the door open. The interior light beams on. His face falls watching you scoot closer to the door. The adrenaline from the rage you held for him blocked all rationality. The pavement races past the tire as the wind kissing your legs and cheeks, whipping through your hair with a wicked breeze . 

The Jeep swerves as he grabs your wrist yanking you back in the car.  The vehicle behind him honks as he swerves the Jeep again to reach across from you and slam the door shut. The silent anger on his stone cold face deflates yours. you finally got under his skin. You smile to yourself as you look out the window again. 

“Why would you think of doing something like that?” The roar of his voice made you flinch. You didn’t dare look at him knowing he was burning holes into the fabric of your shirt. That angry passion for your well being was attractive to say the least. 

“Honestly Jonah why do you care all of a sudden?” Your voice flat. If you acted like you had no feelings for him maybe you’d be able to trick your heart into thinking it was real. 

He said nothing as if he didn’t have an answer. But he had multiple and had no idea which one to pick. He didn’t and let the silence fill in. He glanced at you every ten minutes that passed, you could tell by the way the leather groaned at his movement. He drove forty-five minutes out of town just to show you the view of it on a massive cliff. 

He yanked the steering wheel all the way to the left taking a sharp left. With fast hands he spun it all the right and reversed to the edge of the cliff. You watched him with observant eyes as Jonah popped the trunk, unbuckling himself as he got out of the Jeep. Not saying a word to you as he crawled into the back. 

Why did he bring you here? why had he reacted the way he did when you were trying to hop out of the moving Jeep? Although you had to admit that it was a tad bit too much, even for Ivette. There wasn’t a clear answer for him. 

The open of the passenger door had you jumping out of your skin. Heart skipping a beat, confused you didn’t sense his presence reach you. Looking up at him with doe eyes, his complex soft in the moonlight. Not an ounce of anger in sight. 

“Come,” his voice gentle offering his right hand to you. The softness of him reminded you of how he took care of you that night at the ice cream shop. Cleaning your wounds and feeding you ice cream. Maybe that’s why your chose to place your hand in his. Warmth crawled up your forearm and stopped at your shoulder blade. His hand fit in yours like a puzzle piece like it was meant to be there. 

Silently Jonah guided you to the back of the Jeep, keeping you close to his body as he parked fairly close to the edge. You leaned into him closer once your foot kissed the edge and dirt flung off the cliff. Breath catching in your throat as your heart dropped in your stomach. “I got you.” Jonah whispered pulling you closer into his side. You looked up at him, all you saw was his jawline but you were beyond grateful he didn’t feed you to the cliff. 

Your fingers ached to gasp the back of his neck and pull him to your lips. He was making it harder each day to resist the urge of him. Warm hands wrapping on your hips had you gasping, digging into the fabric of your shirt he lifted you onto the back of his Jeep. Blankets coated the hard plastic floor of the Jeep making it more comfortable. 

The view of your city in the dead of night was breathtaking. Street light, traffic light and store light illuminated it. Like is had been the only star left in the sky. “Gorgeous isn’t it?” Jonah’s breath hits your neck and you now realised how close he was sitting next to you.

“What am I doing here, Jonah.” 

You turn your head to him, noses almost grazing each other. You’re meet with his eyes and a small sigh leaves your lips. The green was the exact colour of an oak tree leaf, small flecks of brown floated into his flawless swirls of green. You could spot each individual stand of his curls upon his forehead. Light stubble mingled onto his jawline reaching his cheeks vaguely. There was a faint scab on his eye from a previous wound you wouldn’t of spotted out if you weren’t  so close to him. 

Fuck. 

“I wanted to show you view of the city, stunning from the outside at a certain time. But if you reach inside you can spot all the flaws it has to offer and yet you’re still in love with it.” Jonah swallows harshly and you could see how his Adam’s apple bob. You finally pull your gaze away from him hearing your heart pound in your ears. 

“It’s the point of view you look at it. You could despise it from the pollution it causes and end up leaving. Or you could love it know it’s flaws and help take care of it.”  You spot Chocolate Shop close enough to see the glowing brown letters. 

“You only see the outskirts of me, I’m here to show you the inner point of view of thee Jonah Marais.” You turn to him again and raised your eyebrows at him amused.

“and who is Thee Jonah Marais.” You mocked him playfully. 

“I’m serious. Let me show you and you’ll find out along the way.” He shrugs his shoulders as in question towards you. 

You’re quiet looking at him searching for anything. Not green eyes looked to the side and there was no biting of the lip. Zero fidgeting and zero wavered octave in his voice. He wasn’t playing around like you thought he was.  If he was willingly to reach out, trick you, and make the effort to tell you then you’d let him with no resistance.

“Who is Jonah Marais?” You asked, 

He tells you the entire story of his life, every year of his life he could remember. How he was just a kid in his room going live on Younow to finding his the guys and starting a band with them. How it was a rocky begging with barely any gigs to being booked every weekend for six weeks at a time.To adopting Sawyer and moving out for college. Jonah held this rock star persona about him scared to let people in. You were so wrong about him and you felt like shit for it, maybe he’d forgive you for it. 

Now You were curled up into the corner of Jonah’s Jeep covered in blankets. The cold breeze of the night air getting to you. He strummed his acoustic guitar that he seemed to always have tucked into the back seat. Fingers changing against the strings making a beautiful melody. He sat at the edge of the Jeep letting his legs dangle off, his back to you as he hummed. 

I can’t even hide it 

I haven’t stop thinking about your lips

mm, your lips, yeah I losing my mind

It’s been too long, I’m missing your kiss

yeah, your kiss

Jonah’s voice is soft as it tangles with the stings of the instrument perfectly. Almost the same octaves of an angel, gentle and flawless. No scratch that a god the sound pulled you to him which felt slightly strange to you. Your body wanted to be by his side watching his fingers pick at the strings. Instead you nuzzled into the blankets further. 

you

you’ve been there through it all

you answered all my calls

you

I can’t believe I let you go

Beautiful, you let the thoughts of him flow freely. Not scolding yourself for thinking them. It was like you were meeting him for the first time, a side of Jonah you’ve never seen before. Even his vaguely muscular back was perfect, They were most likely sculpted by god himself if Jonah wasn’t already him.

Tears and slamming doors

I’m falling, now on the floor

Begging, begging please

you don’t want me no more.

A small innocent yawn passing your lips halted Jonah’s voice and finger picking. Looking back at you with a tired glance full of worry. Looking into his green pools you yawned again like a kitten and Jonah couldn’t help but swoon. Sleep was swarming your body and Jonah could tell by the dopey smile on your face. But all you wanted was him to start playing the guitar again. 

“Don’t fall asleep again you’ll end up in my bed again.” Jonah warns, 

That makes you stare at him blankly full attention on him, “How did I wake up in your bed again? ‘Cause all I remember is the ice cream and the lights were out after that.” 

He tells you, including the part where you woke up, Coddling Sawyer’s head in your lap. Throwing an old t-shirt at you in hopes you’ll change out of your dress. Prepping the couch for a hard’s night sleep.You wanting him to stay until you fell asleep, but not wanting to sleep. 

“Oh.” You look at the blanket not wanting to look at him. “I asked you to sleep in bed with me?” You voice so much softer then before. “Yes.” was his only response. You believed him, who would he lie about something so small. You’re upset with yourself that you let your feelings take the steering wheel. 

“Look you were intoxicated and half asleep, everybody wants someone when they’re like that. Don’t beat yourself up.” Jonah says scooting a little closer, placing his guitar down, tiny reassurance that it really was okay.

“Thank you.” You glance back up at him giving Jonah a delicate smile. He returns it, “Let’s get you home, the sun is rising.” he says offering you a hand. Just past his head you spot light blues and pinks blending in with the bright yellow of the sun. You spent the entire night with Jonah and you didn't even realise, Talking with him only felt like an hour, give or take. 

“I guess it is.” You say letting your hand slip into his. You flinch at the warmth it caused to bloom in your shoulder blades, you haven’t gotten use to it. 

---------

Ivette drove you to your parents house the next weekend. You needed to pick a painting to sell or at least put it up for bidding. Your car was still in the shop. It’s been months and you’re about to give up on it. But Ivette was gladly willing to drive you said it was a quick road trip. 

The attic’s floor creaked with every step you took searching for that breathtaking painting. You would see between to floorboards into the den and began to wonder if it was safe to be up here. “What about this one?” Ivette’s optimistic voice left you perplex. Glancing up you sighed staring the painting in the eyes. 

“No body in there right mind would pay two grand of a a faceless watercolour painting of Phcahontas.” 

“I would.” Ivette shrugs before putting the canvas back into the bin that said watercolour. You shake your head and laugh playfully. “That’s because you’re my best friend Ivette.” 

“Yes, and the painting your selling I’m buying.” 

“Um. No, you’re not...Ivette I swear if you buy this canvas. I won’t speak to you for a month.” You threaten digging through the landscape acrylic paint. 

“It’s only a month.” Ivette says pulling up a cafe picture done in all pencil crayon. You and you shake your head. 

“I’m serious. I have to do this on my own.” You say honestly, flicking through watercolour ocean life. Multiple bins were full of stories you created with your hands. Divided by the media you used to make them and the surface you made them on like canvas or card-stock. 

“Fine. What happens if you sell it for lets say five-hundred-thousand?” She asks her attention mainly on picking out art piece she thinks are worth it.  

“None of my paintings are worth that, but if and that’s a big if. Pay you back for all the things you gave me.” You say still digging and now realising they were sorted into years. Damn you painted anything you could think of. 

“No you’re not!” Ivette basically yells at you and your eyes widen in shock at the random out burst. 

“Okay you fucking psycho. I would get a vehicle. A used one that would run on four wheels just fine.” You say really thinking about it, that’s what you loved about Ivette she listened to you and never judge you for anything. 

“I think that’s a perfect stat.” She purred like that was the answer she was looking for. An hour whizzes by scavenging for the most likely candidate and goofing around with Ivette. Skipping directly over painting of your family you did, surprisingly there’s a lot. Like the one with your dad painted into the king of hell, or Ivette painted as a goddess. 

“I think I found it!” Ivette shouts so loud it causes the family dog to bark. Your face is blank as you stare at the canvas hanging from her finger tips. The second painting you had painted for spirit animal week back in high school. First you painted a doe. Your art teacher said it was un-gradable by how perfectly you captured yourself in it. 

That lion dangling from your best friend’s fingers was of Jonah’s spirit animal. You had a brief thing for him back then and if anyone saw it back then they’d know exactly who it was.  he always carried himself like the king. That school was his domain to say the least, not to mention he always wore the lion pendent around his neck. The same one he wears to this day. 

“That’s the one.” you say reluctantly. If you were going to sell an art piece for two thousand it’d be this one. You’ve spent hours on that one piece, it was your most dedicated painting as embarrassing as it was to admit. 

You took a few pictures of the painting before packing it into the trunk of Ivette’s Range. Posting it on a few website for bidding you hoped it go for the wanting price. Giving her a small nod Ivette started the hour drive back to campus with a coffee run.

------

The sun stretched through the massive window of Ivette’s gorgeous loft. Kissing the top on her glass table top. Notes and text books of your other classes spread along the glass leaving small gaps between. Nothing big was coming up but you liked refreshing your brain with the keyed information. This hack saved you from getting confused in your college courses, only god knows how perplexed in high school classes. 

Sure your dad gave you a sliver to dodge all of this but you weren’t going to relay on it. Of course you prayed to the sun and the moon that it would sell. And that’s why the painting sat in your dorm room waiting to rot. 

Taking a sip of your iced coffee you sighed in bliss, nothing like a well made coffee to chase the worry away. On the couch you could spot Ivette’s head tucked into Daniel’s shoulder. God they were so fucking cute. 

“What’s the colour scheme for the gala?” Daniel hummed into her forehead before planting a kiss there. “I was thinking somewhere between red and white?” It was a question, a chance to see what Daniel was okay with.

“I think red is amazing. Wine, ruby, burgundy, or blood?” He answered her with a question. She Beamed at it the knowledge for the colour. “Ruby.” She said before bringing her hands to jawline and pull him to her before kissing him. 

Your attention turning back on the notes in front of you. Ivette was undeniably happy with him and you wished she had the courage to stay with him this time. No matter what she says she deserves to finally be happy with him. 

“Y/n?” Your whips up and eyes connected with hers. “You should come, I know you said no already. But it’ll be fun. You’ll be my plus one since the Seavey’s are invited.” Her eyes softened and formed into her famous puppy dog eyes. Bottom lip rolling out into a pout, a pleading that worked for a good percentage of the time. 

“It’s in two days. I don’t have time to gather a worthy gown.” You resisted her charm. “I can make a quick call or two.” She practically begged you. 

Daniel glances at you with a mischievous ocean glint in his eyes. Flashes a smirk before leaning into Ivette, what was this one up to now? He’s always in the centre of Jonah’s treacherous plans. He whispers into her ear and a small wave of shock washed over her. She’s nodding before Daniel has a chance to pull away and agree to what he said to her. 

“Fine It’s up to you.” Ivette shrugs trying to brush of the fact Daniel whispered his evil plans in her ear. Which were differently about you if he had to whisper them to her. 

“Whatever you’re up to Seavey keep me out of it!” You narrow your eyes at him. Wide doe eyes Daniel begins to throw his hands up in surrender. Trying to seem innocent but failing miserably and looking suspiciously guilty. “I Wouldn’t speak of such crime.” 

He winks. 

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

You haven’t gotten wind of their devious plan for twenty-four hours,  you felt safe enough to say you were in the clear. You took a seat at your favourite coffee shop Golden Biscuit, the one Trey worked at. You asked about him and they had said he stopped working a week ago, the day of the party. which felt oddly suspicious. 

Trying to bury yourself back into the steamy werewolf romance your phone buzzed on the table top. Shaking the entirety of it yet you reluctantly reached for it. Ivette’s name flashed at the top “This better be life or death.” You mumble to yourself. 

“Where are you!?” You could hear the tears and desperation wrapping in her words. It was rare for Ivette to call you in hysterical breathes of cry. But you knew exactly what it sounded like a the first breath that left her lips. 

“Hey calm down. I’m at the coffee shop. What happened?” Your voice soft as your attention was on the situation at hand. 

“Bonnie sent me the wrong size! I need your help to fix it please!” You could hear her hiccup in her distressed striped voice. “Just take a breath, I’m assuming your in my dorm. Hold tight Ivette I’m on my way.” You soothe knowing how important these galas were to her. It was the one night a year where she could replenish her statues of a Richie and not feel guilty about it. 

“Okay, okay.” she says finally breathing through her nose. “I love you.” You say into the phone gathering your book into your bag and your coffee into your hand.”I love you too.” She replies back sounding less hysteric almost making you halt at the sudden change in her voice. You waved it off as a mind trick continuing to rushing out of Golden Biscuit and towards campus.  

Shouldering the door open you clatter to the floor of your dorm with an exaggerated oof. Chest tight and legs feeling like jelly as you pull yourself up, door wide open as your keys dangle from the knob. A few passing students pier in with wondering eyes. You huff before kicking the door shut closing it on anymore prying eyes. You’d remind yourself to fetch your keys later.

As soon as you collected your breath you saw no sign of Ivette and her hysterics. You rolled your eyes knowing she tricked your gullible little ass. Those theatre class we really paying off, Ivette really knew how to act and knew you’d come running in her signs of panic. 

A large crisp orange box sat a top your bed along side a black bag. Cautiously your hands reached for the gift bag pulling tissue paper out. Glancing inside you spot your silk green dress and Ivette’s heels. In your hand the dress condition was pristine as if it’s never been worn. Confusion your hands dart for the heels and you began to inspect them, not a single blood stain upon the velvet straps. Were these replaced?

Setting the thought aside you begin to open the box, a top white tissue paper was a clean envelope. Inside the wax seal was the Marais family crest, breaking it you fingers find a letter inside written in delicate swirling loops. 

A little birdie told me your dress size. Now forgive me for the colour there wasn’t much option in a day’s notice. Daniel and I will fetch the both of you at her house. By the way I took your green dress on a trip to the dry cleaners. 

- Jonah Marais

As soon as you think you’re in the clear it rolls into view. He didn’t give you a chance to say no, clever you didn’t think you could because the gala was tomorrow night. All Jonah brought was stress upon you and your perplexed feelings. But now you felt more friends then enemies but there was still the instinct to stay clear of him.

sighing you places the letter down and unwrap the tissue paper. A gorgeous sapphire ball gown with a sweet heart neckline sit inside. mesmerised by it’s workmanship you grasp it in your hands.  Silky texture nothing like your green dress,this was higher quality thick in fabric and softer. You wondered the price. It stayed a mystery because no tag dangled off the dress. Ivette most like told you about your fear of her expensive gift and removed it with his hands. God those hands plucking the strings of his guitar.

This wasn’t a reality it was written deep in some fantasy book you’ve read before. You were dreaming or you’re hallucinating, that’s the only explanation. It was a rare occasion you got the man and the gown, This shit was only in between the pages of fiction. 

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Thank you so much for the people who have stuck with this series you’re god sent I swear. 

Which was your favourite part? Do you guys like the other elements of the story like the reader selling the painting and the Gala? or are you all about the romance?

Don’t be afraid to message me if anything offended you with my POC characters. This is a safe space for everyone and I want to make it right!

Taglist:  @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @someinsanefangirl​ @evans-dejong​

[liliesoftherain]

Bomber Jacket

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Angst, Comforting

Word Count: 1.5K +

Summary: Who knew that old bomber jacket of his would lead to this.

A/N: I had a quick inspiration and I typed this out, so after this I really won’t post anything new until finals are over! I’m just a huge procrastinator so anything to keep me away from homework I will do. Enjoy!

The sky was nowhere to be seen, it’s form hidden by the darkened clouds. Not even the raging winds could help push them aside, they were here to stay. Although,even with no intention of letting the light shine through, they provided some beauty. It was an ethereal sight to behold indeed: the gray that painted the city as if it were a photograph changed by a filter. Not even the blinding fog that swirled in the streets below could lessen the bitter sweetness of it all. 

You watched it all from the comfort of your home, sipping warmth straight from your mug and allowing its comfort to sooth your sorrows. It was a day like this after all that changed your life forever. That was all in the past now. Her cold fingers threatened to squeeze your throat with her harsh memories, but it was all a dulled pain. One you have learned to suppress as the years trickled on, trying to enable yourself to find another happiness. A block from it all. You did, and he was the most perfect thing your life has blessed you with

A sound from upstairs caught your attention, glancing up at the ceiling as if you could peer through to see the mysteries above. You stood, setting your cup down as your curiosity pulled you up the stairs and towards the open attic door.

The stairs that led up there were calling your name, as they have only seen you a few times since moving in years ago. Your heart felt heavy as you knew what lies in store for you once you go up there, it happened every time you did. It was the main reason you stayed away after all, your heart could only break so much. 

You heard another thump and incoherent mutterings followed. You shake your head, a smile forming on your face despite previous thoughts that were creeping into your mind.

“Love, are you up there?” 

The old steps were taunting, daring you to climb them. Their whispers were screams that you could barely hear over until a light voice broke through, causing a peace to wash away the harsh tones.

“Yea, I’ll be right down.”

That wasn’t fair, you knew it wasn’t. Just because you couldn’t stand the reminders of your past, doesn't mean he shouldn’t be able to enjoy them. 

You willed your body to move, taking the steps slowly, cautiously. The further up you went, the more quickly your heart began to beat. Till you reached the top and it stopped completely. The sight before you was quick to bring tears to your eyes, a hand slowly coming up to your mouth to muffle the gasp you didn’t even realize you made.

Red eyes met yours, they were just as wide as your own, a hint of shock and regret swirling in them. 

“What are-uh, I-I’m sorry I didn’t think you’d come up-” He stuttered, gaze now looking anywhere but you. 

You could only stare in complete silence. Your thoughts taken over as former dormant memories sprung to life, dancing in your head like a movie on repeat. All you could see was Katsuki standing there.

“Mom.. I’m sorry-”

“You have no reason to be my love.” Your eyes shining with unshed tears, causing him to panic.

“But you’re crying!” 

“Am I?” A smile graced your lips, despite the tears that now freely down your cheeks. 

You son was speechless, unable to do anything as you brought him into your arms. The hug lasted for what felt like a lifetime, but it still wasn’t enough for you. You ran a hand through his spiky blond locks before pulling back just enough to gaze at his face. You didn’t have to look down far, even at the age of thirteen he was already close to surpassing your height. 

“You look so much like your dad, I was caught off guard is all. That was his favorite jacket you know?” 

He looked at the bomber jacket as your run your hands along the sleeves, playfully tapping each patch on the way.

“I got him this one you know,” You pointed at the flaming skull on the collar, “he was so embarrassed when I pointed out how quickly he got it sewed on. He thought if he yelled loud enough it would distract from the giant blush on his face. It didn’t.”

“Mom?”

“Yes love?”

“Can I..” He looked away, arms untangling from your middle and brought to hug himself. 

“You most certainly can have it, your.. your dad would be so proud of you.”

You wiped the tears that now ran down his face.

“I miss him.” 

“I miss him too baby.” You brought him in for a hug once more and he gripped your shirt like a lifeline. 

“I know he misses you too, God, he loved you so much.” 

He sobbed into your shoulder, and your heart was squeezing at the sound.

“I have something to show you, I was going to wait till you got into his alma mater, but I think you need it now.” You pulled back and led him downstairs into your room. You only kept a few things in your room of his, a few shirts, a few gifts, but most importantly his notes. 

No one would take Bakugou Katsuki as the type to write love letters, but he did. He wrote many to you in his life, and you kept them all in a special box in the drawer of your bedside table. 

You son looked confused as you sat down on the bed, legs hanging over the edge as you patted the spot next to you. He complied, staring at the box you gripped tightly in your hands.

You opened it to reveal tons of papers that were kept organized, trying to keep it that way as you dug through the contents, finding the paper you needed.

“Your father wrote this.. For you.” 

He slowly took the paper from your hand, and looked at the surprisingly neat words that filled the entire page.

Son,

If you’re reading this then I’m sorry, because this means we can never have this conversation in person. I often think of the type of legacy I will leave behind for you, will it be enough? Will it be something that makes you proud? Even more so, I wonder if I was around long enough for you to remember me. This line of work I am in is dangerous, but I could never picture leaving it. I do this for you and your mother, to make sure the world you will grow up in is a safe one. I hope you know how much I love you and how much I want for you. From the start, from the very first moment I laid eyes on you, you were the spark of my life. The one thing that truly mattered.

I wish I could be there for you, there is so much I wish to share with you, to experience with you. Things I hope I will, so you will never have to see this letter, but things don’t always work like that. So here are some lessons I hope this letter will provide, and you allow these lessons to take root into your life and be bigger than I ever was;

Always protect those that are weaker than you. If all you ever do is look down on people, you won't be able to recognize your own weakness. I was never good with this rule myself, not until I met your mother. Yet not truly until I met you, my son. Keep that compassion and strength that comes from a concern for the world and the people around you, don’t lose it. Use it to push yourself, to be stronger. 

Be safe, I cannot stress this enough. Don’t throw yourself into danger because you think that is the only way to win. No one is winning if you think dying is the only way to save someone, you must live for others. Your mother doesn’t deserve another heartbreak, and you’re the only one there who can provide the love she needs. She is the strongest person I know, but she’ll need someone to lean on. So don’t forget to lean on each other. 

Love with all of your heart, never be afraid to share your emotions. They don’t make you weak, it’s the opposite. Your strength doesn’t come from your quirk, it comes from your heart. Your feelings, your love, your care, your compassion.

Above all else son, I want you to remember that even if I’m not physically there with you, my love for you will always be. I love you more than life itself, and I’ll be damned if anything tries to convince you otherwise. I will never be really gone, I’ll always be in your heart. Remember that.

I am your biggest fan, I am your greatest protector, I will always be proud of you, I will always be confident in your skills, I will always love you unconditionally, and I will always be here for you. Nothing will change that. So I hope you can forgive me one day for having to leave you so soon.

I love you son.

Your dad, 

Bakugou Katsuki.

Tears fell from your eyes at the sight of your smiling son, his hands lightly tracing along the words of the paper. He looked at you, eyes red but a determined grin on his face, and in that split second you swore you saw your husband sitting behind your son with the same smirk on his own.

“I’ll become a great hero, just like dad, even better than him. I swear it!”

“I have no doubts you will dear.. I have no doubts at all.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, yorit1!

For @yorit1. I hope you enjoy this little Christmas gift.

I made a playlist to accompany the fic: listen here

Read On AO3

*****

Make the Yule-tide Gay

"We should get a tree.”

Stiles blinks down at his half-eaten sandwich, unsure if he heard that right, before looking up at his father. The sheriff, clad in his uniform, sits opposite him by the breakfast table with his eyes firmly in the newspaper. It’s an innocent statement on its own, but Stiles knows it’s not. They haven’t had a tree in six years. There’s less than a week until Christmas Day and there’s not even an errant bauble to be found in the Stilinski household.

“Seriously?” Stiles asks.

“Seriously,” his dad confirms. “It’s time. I’ll dig out your mom’s decorations from the attic later.”

There’s a thick lump in Stiles’s throat and he swallows around it, forces his next words through it.

“You have an early shift Friday, right? Maybe we could go pick one up after school.”

His dad looks up from his newspaper then and his smile is as wobbly as Stiles's.

“Sounds great, kid.”

---

The parking lot in front of the Christmas tree sale is absolutely crowded. The sheriff finds an empty spot to squeeze the cruiser into at the edge of the lot and Stiles has to shimmy out from the passenger seat not to scratch the car next to them. While he had approached this day with careful anticipation, he could feel the excitement surge with every step closer to the trees. His dad seems to notice as much, because he chuckles and throws an arm over Stiles’s shoulders, squeezing him lightly.

It feels like reclaiming something once lost.

The fresh scent of the trees is nearly overwhelming. There must be hundreds of them, ranging from tabletop trees to some that Stiles would estimate are more than twice his own height. People mill through the trees, chatting and surveying the supply. A couple of excited kids nearly run both Stiles and the sheriff down in their game of chase through the trees.

“Alright, remember, no taller than 7 feet or so or we'll have to saw a hole through the ceiling,” his dad says and Stiles nods.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They’re just about to make their way into the trees when someone calls out for the sheriff. They both turn in time to see Deputy Parrish make their way towards them. At any other time, Stiles would be over the moon for a chance to make googly eyes at Deputy Parrish, but right now he feels like he’ll vibrate out of his own skin at any second. His dad squeezes his shoulder again before letting go.

“Go pick out a good one,” he says, smiling. “I’ll join you in a sec.”

Stiles shoots his dad a blinding grin before saluting a rather puzzled Parrish and darting into the trees.

There’s a loudspeaker system set up across the lot that’s currently blasting out Tony Bennett’s Winter Wonderland. While Stiles has never seen snow in real life, the afternoon is uncharacteristically chilly for December in California and it adds to the atmosphere. He can nearly imagine the cold biting his cheeks.

He makes his way down the rows of trees, letting his fingers skim across the needles, occasionally feeling them prick at this skin. He stops in front of an impressively sized balsam fir, lips falling open in awe as he tilts his head back to look it up and down. It’s far too big for their living room, but if he was a wealthy oil magnate with a mansion, this would one hundred percent be the tree for him. Stiles is so enamoured by the tree that he doesn’t notice someone approaching until they speak.

“Do you need any help?”

Stiles will never admit to yelping, but in  reality that is his reaction. As if appearing out of nothing, like an angelic Christmas spirit, there’s Derek Hale. Senior, captain of the basketball team, prom king Derek Hale. In a green vest and Santa hat. Stiles doesn’t know when he fell into a portal leading to another dimension where Derek Hale works at a Christmas tree sale, but here he is.

Derek squints at him and Stiles realises he’s been staring.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Do you have like… this tree, but in a more pleb size? Ya know, for the commoners.”

Derek’s lips twitch ever so slightly in what could be amusement and Stiles feels such an immense sense of accomplishment that he nearly goes lightheaded.

“We’ve got a couple of smaller balsam firs in another section,” Derek replies and nods to the left. “Follow me.”

Winter Wonderland has turned into Ella Fitzgerald’s Sleigh Ride and Stiles’s legs have turned to jelly. They stumble over themselves in their hurry to follow Derek through the next three rows. He thinks this might be the longest time he’s ever spent in High School King Hale’s presence and it’s thrilling and daunting all at once.

“You go to Beacon Hills High, right?” Derek asks and Stiles jumps to attention at his side.

“Uh yeah. I’m a sophomore.”

“Thought I recognized you. Aren’t you on the lacrosse team?”

Stiles squirms, hand flying up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“ Technically, I guess. I’m more of a bench warmer,” he admits, a splotchy blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s far from the physical wonder that is Derek Hale. It looks like Derek’s pectorals are trying their very best to bust out of that hideous green vest.

“Why? You look fit enough,” Derek replies, his eyes flicking down Stiles’s gangly limbs and Stiles would take it for a joke, he really would, if Derek’s face didn’t show anything but complete seriousness. He stops so suddenly that Stiles nearly bounces off his thick bicep.

“Complete lack of coordination, as you clearly can see,” Stiles says, hiding his embarrassment behind a grin.

The hand Derek places on his shoulder, to steady him, is so warm it seeps through his jacket immediately. Jelly legs once more, even though Derek removes his hand quickly.

“This row has pleb-sized balsam firs,” he explains and gestures down the row. “Want help picking one out?”

“Yes!” Stiles exclaims, too quickly and too loudly considering the concerned looks thrown their way by an elderly couple passing by. “I mean, you’re a professional, and we haven’t had a tree for years, so it needs to be a good one.”

Derek’s lips twitch again and this time Stiles is sure it’s with amusement. It makes Stiles’s heart flutter.

“Alright then. Do you prefer a long one or a girthy one?” Derek replies and that makes Stiles’s heart race instead and judging by the face Derek makes, he’s completely aware of it.

“Are those two mutually exclusive?” Stiles replies before his brain has the time to catch up with him and Derek grins, blindingly, beautifully, absolutely devastatingly.

“I’m sure we’ll find something to satisfy your needs,” Derek replies and it sounds like a promise.

---

Somewhere between Let It Snow and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas , between Stiles dubbing a particularly thick tree as pure quali-tree and Derek breaking into laughter, Stiles finds himself between a solid brick wall and another solid brick wall called Derek’s chest. He’s grateful for it too, considering that the hot, soft press of Derek’s lips against his own has brought on the return of the jelly legs. He’s not sure that he would be able to stand up on his own, not without his arms wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck for stability. Derek’s hands, so warm and steady, are placed on his hips. His pinky, clearly a weapon of mass destruction, has found its way beneath layers of flannel to rub against Stiles’s sensitive skin and it feels like he’s being branded.

“Make the Yule-tide gay, fuck, Judy Garland really knew what Christmas is all about,” Stiles gasps while Derek trails kisses down his cheek and neck, stays there when laughter bubbles almost involuntarily from his lips.

His shoulders shake with it and Stiles clings to him tighter still, breathless and giggling too. They’re hidden away behind a majestic Colorado Blue Spruce, as secluded as it could possibly be at a Christmas tree sale.

“I’m Stiles, by the way,” Stiles adds, as an afterthought and it makes Derek pull up from his hiding space by Stiles’s neck. He immediately misses the feel of Derek’s warm breath against his skin.

Derek’s Santa hat is lopsided now and Stiles reaches up to right it.

“I know,” Derek replies, brushing his nose against Stiles’s.

“You know?” Stiles exclaims in disbelief, eyes widening, but his lips seeking Derek’s like a moth to a flame.

“‘Course. The cutest benchwarmer Beacon Hills High has to offer.”

Stiles didn’t know that he was capable of blushing harder than he already was, but apparently he could.

“I know who you are too,” he says, in lieu of anything else, since the idea of prom king Derek knowing who he is is so ludicrous.

Derek shrugs.

“Everyone knows who I am.”

It’s so arrogant, so conceited and so absolutely true that Stiles has to push on his rock hard chest in protest.

“Oh my god, you did not just say that,” Stiles says, but he’s laughing and so is Derek when he stumbles back a step. “Asshole.”

“Dick,” Derek replies and it sounds like a term of affection.

“Yeah, but you’re into it,” Stiles bites back and Derek looks as if he’ll reply, but they’re interrupted by the sheriff’s voice.

“Stiles? Are you here?”

Immediately on high alert, Stiles pushes on Derek’s chest until they both stumble out from behind the spruce tree. Stiles notices that he has needles stuck in his hair. The sheriff stops, eyes narrowing at the sight of them both, flushed and panting.

“Did you find a tree?” He asks, despite looking like he wants to ask something else entirely.

“Uh, yeah! Derek here uh, helped.”

“Mm, I’m sure he did.”

“It’s a balsam fir,” Derek supplies.

“Yeah, a balsam fir, very… girthy,” Stiles adds, because if there’s something he excels in, it’s digging his own grave deeper.

The sheriff rolls his eyes so hard Stiles fears he might suffer permanent damage.

“Let’s just pay and go home,” he says and pulls his wallet out of his jacket.

---

Stiles’s dad pays and Derek helps them carry the netted balsam fir across the parking lot to the corner spot they had parked the cruiser in. Once the tree is safely tied to the roof, Derek turns to Stiles and the sheriff pretends valiantly to busy himself with inspecting the tied rope.

“Give me your phone,” Derek commands and Stiles hands it over readily. Derek taps on it for maybe half a minute before returning it, his fingers lingering against Stiles’s. “Text me next time you’re warming the bench.”

Stiles can’t do anything but nod eagerly as Derek backs away. It’s not until he’s halfway across the parking lot that Stiles finds the words he’s looking for.

“You have a tree-mendous Christmas!” He yells.

Derek’s shaking shoulders is reward enough.

“Alright, Romeo,” the sheriff sighs good-naturedly. “Let’s go home.”

Stiles can’t stop his silly smile as he climbs into the cruiser, clutching his cellphone tight in his hand. The sheriff turns the key and puts the cruiser in reverse. The radio plays It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas and Stiles can’t help but agree.

[petekaos]

all the way home i’ll be warm;

dec 18th brought one of the most wonderful people into the world! this is for @earthfluuke. maddie - words cannot express how much our friendship means to me. whether it’s rambling about aus that we will never write, or watching obscure and mediocre shows from five years ago, or just talking about the snow... it’s all so heartwarming! sometimes i still can’t believe the fact that we’re 7 hours apart and still manage to talk every day - or maybe that says more about our sleep schedules than anything. either way, i love you, maddie! i hope you have the best day, regardless of everything going on 💛

quick disclaimer for anyone who’s reading who isn’t me or madeline: non in this universe is our hc of non, not the non we see in the show. obviously the things he does in the show are damaging and indefensible. the only thing these two share is the same name. 

Family isn’t about blood. It’s about belonging, in the end. Pete and Kao’s little family throughout the winters.

i. six years old

“Is that snow?” asks Achara, eyes widening as she sits on the couch, pointing at the television. She’s curled up in the small blanket Mork had gotten her when she’d first come to live with Pete and Kao, holding a small teddy bear to her chest. Kao’d just picked her up from school on his way back. He looks up now from the kitchen, laying his knife to the side, peering around to see what she’s looking at. “The stuff falling from the sky.”

Kao moves around the kitchen counter to settle down next to Achara on the couch. Her hand closes around the edge of the blanket and draws it over him. It only covers half his leg from the size of it, but it’s the thought that counts, as Kao smiles, making sure the blanket is covered over his daughter. “What’re you watching?” he asks, blinking at the television. “Yeah, tii rak, that’s snow.”

“Have you ever seen snow before?” she asks, nudging his side, her eyes wide. “In real life?”

Kao shakes his head, leaning back. “I was born and brought up here. I haven’t even been further than Phuket - that’s ten hours away. Your dad, on the other hand...”

“P’Mork says he’s rich,” says Achara, and Kao has to stifle a laugh. 

“Yeah, your P’Mork has a point,” he says, pausing the cartoon. “Pete’s seen snow, I’m sure he can show you some pictures. Either way - what do you want for dinner?”

“Well, I want red curry,” says a voice from behind them. Kao’s mouth curls into an automatic smile as Pete presses a soft kiss to both his and Achara’s heads in turn. “Kaooo, can we have red curry?”

“If you show Achara your baby pictures in the snow, then anything can be done,” says Kao, and Pete groans. 

“I’ll have to dig those out of the attic,” he says, flopping down on the couch next to Achara, tucking the blanket around her. “You want to go see snow, baby?”

“Can we?” says Achara, turning to him. “Right now? That would be so cool!” 

“We’re not going anywhere right now,” says Kao, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe during the holidays - when you don’t have school and your father and I don’t have to work.”

“Promise?” she says, looking up to the both of them. “Really?”

Kao shrugs. “Like Mork said - Pete is rich,” he says, and is immediately met with a cushion thrown with the force of a thirty-something year old man with a vengeance. “He can take us anywhere, any time.”

“That’s not true - don’t listen to him,” says Pete, rolling his eyes. “Or your uncle, for that matter. We’ll see snow at some point, okay? Until then - red curry.”

Achara shakes her head. “Pictures first!” she says, and Kao holds his hand out for a high-five, grinning when she slaps his hand down. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to her hair.

ii. eight years old

“Did you pack the gloves?” asks Kao, keeping an eye on Achara as she bounds forward on the small pathway alongside the street.

Pete procures two sets of gloves from his seemingly endless jacket pockets. “Here they are,” he says, pressing them to Kao’s chest. “She has hers on, right?”

Kao laughs. “Have you looked at her?” he asks. “She looks like a little snowman herself, I think I bundled her into every layer possible.”

“Hey, she looks cute,” says Pete, nudging him. “Por’s gonna have a field day with all the pictures I’m going to take.”

“Did you call him today morning?” he asks, pulling his gloves on. “Tii rak, don’t wander off too far!”

“Yeah, Por!” calls back Achara, her scarf fluttering in the wind as she twirls around down the street. “The snow’s so cool!”

“Don’t run!” yells Pete, gloved hand reaching out to curl a finger around Kao’s. “Yeah, I called my dad. He said Non’s been stressing, cooking a lot for the two people living there. Too bad he couldn’t come with us, huh?”

Kao’s grip on his hand tightens as they make their way down the snowy little path. As promised two years ago, they’d found enough time to take off for a small trip to Japan, where it snows and of which Achara had been telling her friends at school all month - disappointed, however, that her big brother couldn’t come with them. “Well, he has his exams,” he says, bumping shoulders with Pete. “He can come with us next time.”

Pete’s mouth pulls into a frown. “He must be feeling pretty bad.”

“We’ll call him afterwards,” says Kao, as they come out to a little clearing. “It’ll be just fine.”

“Pa!” comes Achara’s calls from the distance. She’s rolled up a little ball of snow, waving for them with a bright smile on her face. Her cheeks are red and rosy from the cold. “Come, help me build a snowman!”

“Alright, little tangerine, we’ll be right there!” calls Pete, cupping his hands around his mouth. “We need to film all of this for everyone, right?”

“Here, give me your phone,” says Kao, holding his hand out for Pete to press his phone into, watching fondly as Pete rushes over to help her pack more snow onto the sides of the little ball she’s rolled up. He clicks the recording button and watches as Achara chases Pete around with a snowball in her hand, and giggles quietly to himself. “Hey, N’Non, this drama’s for you.”

iii. thirteen years old

“Tell me it’s not tangerine pie,” says Non, circling the corner. Achara looks up from where she’s rolling the pie crust out, sticking her tongue out at him.

“It’s winter, we have to make tangerine pie,” she says, elbowing him. “It’s like a ritual.”

“It’s not a ritual,” says Non, but flicks the tap on to wash his hands. “We have tangerine pie in the spring, the summer...”

Kao flings some of the filling at him. “Yeah, yeah, shut your mouth. Don’t be like your father. Come on, now, wash up and help us.”

“What’s wrong with Pete?” says Non, swiping the cinnamon off the shelf. “You’ve put us through so much tangerine pie - I think we’re entitled to hate it sometimes.”

“I can remember a time you used to hate Pete with every fibre of your being, N’Non,” says Kao, and Non takes after Achara - sticking his tongue out at him. “Aw, what are you, thirteen? No offense, tii rak.”

“That was a darker time,” says Non, mixing the cinnamon in with the filling. “And we’re never telling N’Achara about it.”

“I’ve been asking you for a decade, come on, P’,” says Achara, pouting at him. “I deserve it as compensation for having to explain my entire life that you’re my brother and not my father.”

“When you’re older, maybe,” says Non, flicking water at her. “Grow up a bit, kiddo.”

A knock on the door sounds, and they turn around to see Pete, his shoulders drooping and his eyebags pronounced deep under his eyes. “Hey,” he says, brushing the hair out of his face. “Everyone’s gathered in one room - what’s the special occasion?”

“Tangerine pie,” says Non, and Pete rolls his eyes, rubbing at his eyes, yawning.

“Of course that’s the occasion,” he says, dropping his briefcase by the door and wandering into the kitchen to tuck his head into the crook of Kao’s shoulder. “Hello. I need a nap.”

Achara squints at him. “Tough day at work, Pa?”

“Toughest,” says Pete, yawning again. “But I’m home now. And apparently, I can look forward to some tangerine pie in an hour or two.”

Kao rolls his eyes. “I’ll make you your red curry,” he says, and Pete smiles.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, and Achara fake retches, turning her eyes away to Non.

“Bet you’re glad I’m your brother now, huh?” he says, poking her in the stomach with the back of the spatula. “So you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“When have I ever had to go through anything alone?” asks Achara, nodding her head at Pete and Kao just a little away from them. Non glances at them, seeing the latest picture of the wall of them with everyone else - Thada and June, Sandee and Kitty, Mork and Sun, Rain and Manaow - at the café, and nods in quiet agreement.

iv. sixteen years old

“Snow again!” yells Achara, running out into the very small pathway she ran out into years ago. “Look at this, P’Mork!”

“Yeah, Charie, I’m seeing it,” calls Mork, nodding at Sun to follow him. “Hey, Kao, does she have some gloves on?”

“I heard that, and I’m sixteen!” 

“Sixteen doesn’t exempt you from wearing gloves!” calls Kao, pressing the gloves into Mork’s hand. “Take this with you.”

“You got it, boss,” says Mork, saluting him and heading down the pathway with Sun. Non begins to jog down after him, but Pete stops him midway, handing him a beanie.

“Hey, I’m only three years younger - “

“Three years younger and you still live in my house, so you have to live by my rules,” says Pete, and Non rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man, take the damn beanie.”

Non sighs and takes the beanie in his hand, flying off down the pathway. “I only have a room at your house!” 

Pete shakes his head. “Kids these days...”

Thada laughs under his breath. “He’s three years younger than us,” he says, elbowing him. “I cannot believe you sometimes. You’ve become such a dad.”

“I am a dad,” says Pete, flicking Thada in the forehead. “Just because you don’t have kids.”

“And all the better for it,” he says. “Just means I can spoil yours, right?”

“You’re banned from buying Achara anything for a couple of months still,” says Kao, unpacking a box from his satchel. “Hey, anyone want tangerine pie?”

A chorus of groans echo around the circle, Kitty being the only one to show any excitement and accept a slice. “Why would you bring tangerine pie to Japan?” asks June, hanging his head in disbelief. “We’re in a different country.”

“Change of country doesn’t mean a change in my behaviour,” says Kao cheerfully, tucking into a slice himself. He watches as everyone wanders in front of them, Kitty hooking arms with Sandee and trying to get her to try a slice of the pie, insisting it’s a new recipe. Pete takes that moment to hook his arm with Kao’s, grinning as him as they make their way further into the snow.

“Good day, huh?” he says, putting the box back into his bag. 

“Good day,” says Kao, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You got my gloves?”

Pete holds up two. “Always do,” he says, and they watch as Achara and Non fling snowballs at each other, teaming up to ambush Mork as he comes out into the clearing. Pete yells in excitement, dragging Kao along with him to help them, and in this one exhilarating moment - 

- life is good.

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Jay Halstead x Reader

Description:  Write a story about someone cleaning out their attic. They find an old piece of clothing, and inside of its pocket is an old keepsake.

Words: 4238

Warnings: MCD

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader

Sammy was at school, so you took the opportunity to do some much needed cleaning. You hadn’t touched the attic in months, not since...You didn’t like thinking about it, tried to avoid it. Most of his stuff had been shoved up in the attic with the help of his team. You’d told them you’d go through it when you were ready. It had taken a while, but you were finally ready. 

It was a slow process to even get into the attic, trying to tell yourself it wasn’t the right time. But if it wasn’t the right time now, it would never be the right time. 

There were three stacks of boxes, about nine boxes total, all labeled with his name. Jay. You couldn’t figure out how his life could be boxed into nine boxes. He had taken up so much room in your heart and in your life. There were things that weren’t in the boxes, that were around the house. Pictures. The cased flag from his funeral, his badge, his dress blues hat. His favorite clothes. His ashes in an urn on the mantle. You couldn’t help but finger his wedding ring on the chain around your neck. 

You brought the first box down from the stack, sitting cross legged in front of it, methodically going through each item. You weren’t going to get rid of anything, but you knew you had to go through it, to process everything. 

It had been six months since you’d lost him, the hardest six months of your life. There was no doubt about that. Each day was a little easier than the last, but you couldn’t help but remember those first few weeks which had been the hardest. You couldn’t help but remember the day you found out he was gone. 

-----

Six Months Ago

It was a normal day like any other, smiling as you woke up next to your amazing husband. His arms held you close to his body, perfectly molded to him. He’d always said you were his missing puzzle piece, how perfectly the two of you fit together. It was a nice calm morning, until your five year old came bounding in, joining the two of you in bed.

He was the best thing that had happened to you. For a long time, you’d thought it had been Jay, until Sammy came around. You would kill for your little boy, and would definitely die for him without a second thought. And you knew Jay felt the same way. Sammy was your miracle. For a long time, you thought a child wasn’t part of your plan. You’d suffered through two miscarriages, countless doctors appointments. There had been countless nights crying into Jay’s chest as he held you close, as you wondered why the universe thought it wasn’t meant to be. You’d been hopeful when the pregnancy test came back positive, but very reserved. Nothing scared you more than losing another baby. Jay had been the optimistic one for the two of you. And the day Sammy was born, you thought you were dreaming until you held that crying baby in your arms with Jay smiling at your side. 

“Do you have to go?” you asked Jay when his phone went off on the bedside table. He just gave you a smile and a kiss. 

“You know Chicago. Crime stops for nothing. I’ll call you when I can,” he assured you as he got up, your eyes scanning over his perfect body. You no longer counted the scars, or the bruises when he had them. You still worried, but it was something you were used to by that time. 

“Just no visiting me at work, got it?” you reminded him, getting a laugh. 

“I promise I’ll do my best.” A visit at work usually meant he’d gotten hurt. Most of the time, though, it meant a victim or criminal was the one that got hurt. 

“You better, Jay Halstead. I love you too much to lose you.”

“I love you too,” he seconded, kissing you before kissing Sammy. The little boy -- who was a spitting image of his father -- giggled, smiling as he pulled his dad in for just a second longer. “I love you, little man.” 

“Love you, daddy.” 

You’d gotten Sammy off to school without a hitch, which was a miracle in itself. Usually, there was a lot of kicking and screaming and crying. You were thankful for the easy morning, strolling into work like any other day. 

“How’s my favorite sister-in-law?” Will asked you from his locker as you hung up your jacket. 

“How many times do I have to remind you that I’m your only sister-in-law?” you countered with a smile, pulling out your phone to show him pictures of his nephew. 

“I swear, he’s looking more and more like Jay every day.” You couldn’t disagree with that.

“Yeah. Eighteen hours of horrendous labor, and he comes out a carbon copy of his dad,” you joked before heading off to start off your morning in the ED. 

There’d been no texts from Jay that day, which didn’t worry you too much, considering it happened sometimes. Especially when caught up in a case. It was a little suspicious, though, when you got a call from Voight to not expect Jay home that night. Usually, it was Jay letting you know he’d been gone for the night. Again, though, it didn’t worry you too much. 

Going to bed that night, you’d just had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right, but didn’t ask. Oh, how you wished you’d asked. 

Getting Sammy to school the next morning was harder than the previous day. You couldn’t figure out why, the boy kicking and screaming. He’d been crying for Jay all morning, and you wanted to do nothing but swing by the station to show him that Daddy was okay. But something in you stopped you. Instead, you dropped him off at school with tears still on his cheeks. 

You went to work, trying to shake off whatever feeling you had. It was difficult, not letting it affect your job, but it was doable. That was until you heard the ambulance report on the radio. You were on the trauma doctor that day, but Maggie quickly pulled you, telling Ethan to meet the crew in Baghdad. That didn’t mean you didn’t hear what the paramedics were saying.

“Forty year old male, CPD officer, shot by offender. GSW to the left chest, no exit wound. Hypotensive and bradycardic. GCS 8, blunt force trauma to head and face. Pupils are equal and reactive. Two large-bore IVs bilateral ACs with 2 litres fluid wide open. Five out.” 

You didn’t know it was Jay, but at the same time you did. In your gut, you knew. And your fears were proven correct when they wheeled him through the door. The short glimpse you got of him told you things were not looking good. 

They’d cut off his shirt, the same one he’d left the house in the previous morning. EKG stickers were stamped across his chest. A non-rebreather was strapped to his face, giving him oxygen that was much needed. Blood covered his face, matted in his hair. His eyes were closed, chest heaving with each breath. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, even as they pulled the curtain to block your view. Not until you felt a firm hand on your shoulder.

Anger grew in the pit of your stomach, quickly drowning out the worry and fear. Voight stood next to you, a look of pity on his face. You couldn’t help it, it was your instinctual reaction.

“You were supposed to keep him safe!” you yelled at the older man, but he didn’t flinch. “He is supposed to come home every night, safe! And you couldn’t do that?” 

“Y/N, let me explain,” he said, voice unwavering, as if he didn’t care. You knew that wasn’t true though, Intelligence being a family after all, which at this point you scoffed at. What family would let something like this happen?

“Explain? Explain what, Hank?” you continued, cutting him off before he had a chance to say anything further. “Explain how you couldn’t keep my husband safe! Huh? Explain that to me, because that is your job! It’s your job to make sure he comes home to his wife and to his son every night!” You felt Will grab your elbow, shaking him off quickly as you shoved your hands into Hank’s chest as you continued. “Explain to me how my husband is in that trauma room fighting for his life! Because you better have a damn good reason, because it’s your life on the line too! Because if he doesn’t make it, I’ll kill you myself.” There was anger and truth in your words, spitting them out like fire as the rage began to consume you. Because it was easier to feel rage and anger than it was to admit how terrified you actually were. 

“We were chasing a lead, weren’t expecting the deal to go south. Jay was caught in the crossfire.”

“He better pull through, Hank,” you reminded him again, before letting Will walk you to a chair at the nurse’s station, knowing you didn’t want to be far from Jay. 

It didn’t take long for him to be whisked away to emergency surgery, and for Will to take you up to the surgery waiting room, along with the Intelligence team. None of them said anything to you, or even looked your way until you mentioned something to Will.

“Sammy’s at school. Usually, Jay would pick him up,” you said softly, not knowing any of them had heard you. 

“I’ll go get him, take him back to your place,” Kim assured you, taking Adam with her. You nodded, not wanting to leave the hospital. Not until you knew Jay would be okay. 

Honestly, you didn’t know how long you’d been sitting in the waiting room, eating when Will brought you food and drinking when he brought you water. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, worried you’d miss when the surgeon would come out to tell you what was going on. 

“Dr Halstead,” Marcell said when he walked out, taking a seat next to you. A quick glance at the clock told you it was going on eight hours since ay had been brought in. “He’s out of surgery. Luckily the bullet missed a lot of the important stuff. Just a small knick on his subclavian artery, which we were able to fix fairly easily. His internal bleeding is also controlled. What we’re most worried about is the extent of his head trauma, which time will only tell. He should be waking up soon, if you want to see him,” he told you, letting out the sigh of relief you didn’t know you’d been holding in. 

Sure enough, there he was, skin pale, but chest rising and falling. You sat next to him, taking his hand in yours, waiting. Just waiting. For some sign he was really okay. Even when Will told you to rest, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. There had been times before where you thought you might lose him, but this was different. This felt like the real deal, and you didn’t want to waste a second away from him. 

Around two in the morning was when you felt the pressure on your hand, looking up to see his eyes fluttering open. Your eyes met his, those beautiful ocean eyes. Those two seconds of looking into his eyes felt like an eternity until they closed again, a deep breath exiting his mouth, and the worst sound you could think of. 

All of your medical training went out the window, as you sat there as the wife. Not as the doctor. Because if you were the doctor you would have known that his heart was no longer beating. But you did know that, your instincts kicking in as you pressed the blue button on the wall, hands pushing hard on his chest, feeling his ribs cracking underneath your hands. The sound of his flatline piercing the silence of the room, mingling with your heavy breathing as you held back your tears. 

Hands were on your arms, pulling you away. Vaguely you heard someone say your name, but the sound of the blood rushing in your ears was too loud to hear what they were saying. Not as you saw them keep pushing on his chest, shove a tube down his throat, push multiple medicines to try and get the electricity flowing through his heart again. 

“Time of death, two fourty eight,” Marcell said to the team, to you. Whoever had pulled you away was the entire reason you were still standing as your legs gave out from underneath you. The love of your life was gone, and you weren’t sure what that would mean for the rest of your life.

-----

Remembering that day was difficult, it would be for anybody. But for you, it hit a little harder every time. The fact that there was nothing you could do. They had later told you it was a blood clot. One blood clot took away the love of your life. 

As you continued through the boxes, you couldn’t help but remember some of the better moments between the two of you, flooding back with some of the items you’d pull out. Like a tie. Who knew one tie could remind you of one of the best days of your life.

-----

Six Years Ago

Your mom had tears in her eyes as you stood in front of her, white dress hugging your body tightly. Your hair was in a loose updo, makeup done up. The last thing you needed to do was begin crying as well, considering how long it had taken for the makeup artist to do your makeup. 

“You look so beautiful, honey,” she told you, taking your hands in hers. You couldn’t help but smile at her. “I wish your dad was here to see you. He would have loved Jay.”

“I know he would have, Mom. But at least I have you.” You hugged her before pulling away again, glad you had the photographer capturing these seemingly small moments. 

“Let’s go show Jay how beautiful you look.” 

The two of you walked out, waiting for the bridal music to begin before beginning your walk down the aisle. As soon as your eyes met Jay’s, a smile was on your face, and you could see the tears welling in his eyes. You weren’t expecting him to cry when he saw you, but it was a nice surprise. As soon as you reached him, he took your hand in his, wiping away tears with his free hand. 

“You look absolutely, stunningly beautiful,” Jay told you softly, squeezing your hand before you had the urge to straighten his tie, which apparently Will hadn’t done for him. Then, the priest started talking. You didn’t pay much attention, too focused on looking at Jay. That was, until it was time to speak your vows. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Jay started, clearing his throat with a smile when you heard it crack. “When I met you, I never thought we would get to this point. Mainly, because I thought you would have the common sense to run far, far away from being with a cop. But you didn’t, and you have given me the best three years of my life. And I cannot wait to spend the rest of our lives together, and creating as many memories as possible. No matter how good or how bad it gets. Because I love you, and that’s what love is about,” he told you. Afterall, the vows weren’t for the guests, they were truly between you. 

“There was a split second when the reality of your job came crashing down, where I had the instinct to run far, far away, but I couldn’t. Because I realized how much I love you. There was no describing it. I knew that I had to be with you until I died, because we work. We work perfectly, even when everyone thought that we wouldn’t. A part of me knew that it was meant to be the second I saw you, as if our souls were already connected, even before you asked me when your suspect was going to wake up, no hello to begin. And here we are, three years later, Jay Halstead. I sure didn’t think we’d get here either, but I wouldn’t want to be here with anybody else. Because I love you, more than anything else,” you told him. 

The priest finished, the two of you sliding rings on each other’s fingers before sharing a kiss that conveyed more emotion than you thought possible. But it was official. You were Jay Halstead’s wife. 

-----

You knew he’d kept his suit from the wedding, but coming across that tie reminded you of that moment more than a picture ever did, if you were being honest. You couldn’t help as the tears welled up in your eyes. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do to have Jay back with you. 

More memories came back as you went through the boxes methodically, gently handling each item as if it were treasure. Because it was to you. These were the things you had left of Jay. You’d take no boxes, no possessions at all, if it meant he was alive. 

There were things you’d kept downstairs in your bedroom, things that were too hard to pack away. So, when you came across his favorite black hoodie, you were a little surprised, thinking it was downstairs in your closet. There were a lot of memories associated with this hoodie. Slipping it on, it felt like he was holding you again, and if you closed your eyes, you could imagine it for a little while longer. That was, until you felt something in the pocket. 

With a shaking hand, you pulled it out. It was a note and a small box. The note you recognized, it was one you’d written years ago. 

-----

Eight Years Ago

“Detective Halstead!” you called from across the ED.

It got some head turns, but the only one you cared about was Jay’s. Which as soon as you saw him, you smiled. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you, getting a smile in return. You were holding a small piece of paper in your hand, not letting him see it as he walked over. 

“Doctor Y/L/N,” he said as he approached. “I came to see Will. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah, he took a patient upstairs to the ICU. He should be back soon. Do you maybe want to go get a cup of coffee while you wait?” you asked, hopeful. 

“Sure, but please tell me it’s the kind you pay for and not the free watered down shit in the waiting rooms?”

You couldn’t help but laugh and nod in agreement, shoving the paper in your pocket for the time being. The two of you walked in silence out the coffee cart in front of the hospital, thankful for the warm weather. This wasn’t the first time or second time you’d ran into Jay, having enough of a working relationship to randomly ask him for coffee, but this wasn’t a random thing. This was something you’d been wanting to do for a few weeks now. 

“So, Jay,” you said. “You seeing anybody?” You weren’t expecting him to choke on his coffee when you asked, but couldn’t help but chuckle when he did.

“Can’t say that I am. Why do you ask?”

“I’m not usually this straightforward,” you answered. “But, here’s my number. You should give me a call sometime soon, go get dinner.” You handed him the note. It was more than just your number, but that’s what you played it off as. He unfolded the paper, a blush flushing across his cheeks when he read it, clearing his throat again. 

“I’ll give you a call,” he assured you, tucking the note away in his pocket. “Thanks for the coffee.” You nodded, watching him walk away. 

Three days later, you were sitting in your living room at home, a rare day off. It was nice, to just lounge around, not worried about anything. No life or death or decisions needing to be made, nobody calling for a doctor. You had a glass of wine, and a stupid reality show playing on the TV. You weren’t really paying attention to the TV though, more focused on a phone call that you weren’t sure was coming. Or maybe he was just busy, you weren’t sure. You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. 

You didn’t even look through the peep-hole, not worried. There stood Jay, holding up the note in his hand. 

“Bold move putting your address and your next day off on here,” he told you as you stepped aside, letting him in. 

“Do you want something to drink? I just opened a nice bottle of red, or I have beer?” you offered, ignoring what he’d just said. You knew it was true, but you figured you needed to be bold to get his attention. 

“I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having.” You nodded, going to the kitchen to grab another glass. You brought it back, pouring him a glass as the two of you sat on the couch. Jay looked at you hesitantly before kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable. “This isn’t something I normally do,” he told you.

“And you think I give every cute cop I come across my phone number and address?” you countered with a smile as you handed off the glass. 

“I don’t know what to think, Y/N. I mean, it’s very straightforward.” That definitely wasn’t a lie. 

“Well, it seemed like you were never going to make a move, so I did it for you. Plus, if you weren’t interested, you wouldn’t be here,” you reminded him. 

“When a pretty doctor lady invites you over, you don’t just turn that down,” he added, taking a swig from the glass. 

“You always have a choice, Jay.” He just smirked and shook his head. You had a feeling it was more than that, that he actually wanted to be there with you. 

The night was full of good wine and laughing. A few hours later, you looked over at the clock to see that it was nearly midnight. The two of you had naturally gravitated towards each other, your head resting on his chest with his arm around you. It was natural. 

“You should stay the night, Jay,” you told him, knowing he probably shouldn’t drive. He’d graduated from a couple glasses of wine to a couple of beers. 

“I can call a taxi,” he assured you. “I don’t want to impose.”

“What if I told you I wanted you to stay?” you asked with a sly smile. You really did want him to stay. The night was still young, plus, you were really enjoying his company. You’d learned more about Jay that night than you had in the weeks of knowing him. 

“I’d ask if you were absolutely sure, because me staying the night means everything is going to change between us.” 

There wasn’t a second thought when it came to what you wanted. Your mind had been made up, kissing him softly. It seemed to take him by surprise, but he seemed to go with it pretty fast. He was a really good kisser, better than you had originally imagined. 

“Jay,” you said against his lips before repositioning, straddling his lap with hands in his hair. 

“I’m kind of glad I took you up on this offer,” he told you before kissing you again, hands on your waist as he pulled you flush against him. This was definitely your best idea yet.

-----

You wouldn’t have believed anybody if they told you you’d end up married to the man. But you were. You eventually brought yourself to open the box that had been residing in the pocket of the hoodie for at least the past six months. 

“What?” you asked softly, carefully opening the small box to reveal a locket. Quickly popping open the locket to look inside. 

“Jay…” You saw a picture of the two of you on your wedding day. On the other side was a picture of Jay and Sammy right after Sammy was born. The smile on Jay’s face was as bright as the sun. He loved every second of being a father. You figured he’d gotten it for your anniversary since it had been coming up right after he died. There really was no other choice than to wear it.

When you looked at your watch, you saw it was getting to the mid-afternoon, and Sammy would be home soon. Carefully, you packed the boxes up again, still wearing his hoodie. It still smelled like him, comforting. As you began your descent down the attic ladder, you could have sworn you heard his laugh, saw him out of the corner of your eye. You were a firm believer he was still there with you, and all of this -- the memories, the locket, the memory of his laugh -- just solidified that even more.  

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 004

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello all! Pushing out a baby chapter early so I can focus on my other fic! Thank you so much for the support on this fic. Billy goes to dinner and Tries It. That's the chapter. :D  Tag list open!!!

Chapter 4: No Day But Today

   “Claudia, do you have the keys?” Mona crossed the salon floor.

   “I do, we’re fine here, go on. Dusty is spending the night at the Wheeler’s place. Having some castle and dragons party.” She'd gushed.

   “Feel free to close up early if we’re dead the last hour. Thanks, sugar.” Mona patted her back as she followed Evie out the door.

   “Can I drive?”

   “I was hoping you’d ask.” Mona smiled.

   Evie was saving for a car. And college. And her future. 

   And it was a lot.

   Truthfully, she didn’t care for school. It was in the way. Wished her lyrics could carry her straight to the red carpet before all those flashing paparazzi.

   Wanting to unwind, Evie hid in her room when she got home. Shut the curtains and prodded at herself before the vanity. Sorted dangly earrings in a mesh metal display. Huffing to lean over when Bourbon swept into her legs. His little body shivered and she plucked him up.

   “Okay, BB, you’re my best guy. You can’t let me down.” She scratched under his chin, gave him a little boop on the nose. “You take one look at that walking Def Leppard poster and you hiss and run. Got it?”

   A purr.

   “Good boy. You’re my only hope here. We can’t lose. Not to Billy Hargrove.” Arms let him down. She'd feel this sentiment often about Billy. A sigh. Evie applied a fresh lip color and paused. “Ugh.” She pushed up and didn’t change. Did her school work to get it out of the way and wandered out, turning the TV on to some game show. The savory smell of dinner wafted. “Need help here, Mom?” One tug and the ceiling fan spun, cycling cooler air.

   “No, I have it. You can set the table for me.” Mona drained some noodles.

   “Got it.” Plates and cutlery clicked around. Evie slid everything into place, perked up when the doorbell rang. Mona turned and smiled as her daughter adjusted fabric and fixed curls into place all the way to the door.

   Evie half expected Billy to not even show. But, there he was. Sly smile and all. Billow of date night cologne. A vision in moonlight.

   “Hey.” Evie said slowly. The surprise evident.

   “Hey." He mirrored it.

   "You're here." An exhale out. He blinked, found himself again.

   "I was gonna steal flowers from the old lady’s garden across the way, but there’s a huge opossum in her trash guarding it.” He tilted his head, earring catching the porch light and she cracked a grin.

   "Big Ben? Yeah, he's the neighborhood menace. Chief Hopper's nemesis because they get so many calls about it. You'd be a hero if you took him on." Evie persuaded lighter. His face fell.

   "I'm not trying to die in Hawkins, Indiana. That thing was bigger than anyone on our football team."

   “Color me impressed. King Billy didn’t want to do battle for the first time?” She actually teased him. Her nose crinkled when she smiled. Cute. “Shock and awe.”

   Billy felt this tug pulse up his ribcage. Pulled a genuine chuckle from his lips. He had to look away to give it. Glowy in starlight.

   “Sometimes I surprise people. I know my weight class and the pests here look like they were grown and mutated in some lab.” He shrugged into the door frame with one fist lifted, clicking his lighter shut. Hooded eyes all over. Evie went still as he leaned forward to her face with his tone lowering. “Am I allowed inside? Pretty please?”

   “With cherries on top?" Bright, wet lips parted. His lashes fluttered, a baritone sinking. Bringing her with him.

   "With anything your heart desires on top." Smooth.

   "Huh. I guess. For now.” Evie stepped out of the way. “We go to school with plenty of those lab grown pests by the way.”

   “No kidding.” Billy shrugged his jacket off and she awkwardly reached to take it. Hung it up behind her.

   Evie turned to see him staring again and swallowed a hard lump down. Thought maybe he saw all the begonias blooming behind her eyes and up her throat.

   “Billy.” Mona came out of the kitchen, arms out. “So glad you’re here.”

   “You saved me from a sad date with a TV dinner.” Billy winked, charming Ms. Fenny to bits. She giggled and shook her hair out.

   “Dinner’s got about ten minutes. Why don’t you show him around, baby?” Mona hurried back off, leaving them alone again.

   “Tour? Great idea." He peered behind Evie. A mission at hand. "Where’s the cat?”

   “Hiding from you, clearly.” Evie beamed, gesturing. “Welcome to the living room. Mom's showroom is a better word.”

   “Your mom like tchotchkes or what?” He came to the full mantle. Scanning.

   “How’d you guess?” Evie reluctantly trailed to his side.

   It was strange to let this boy wander around and see little bits of her life. Guess things about her as he went along, trailing deft fingers about the fireplace. She wondered what was blooming within the pit of his stomach, if anything.

   Mona Fenny's house overwhelmed.

   Photographs, plants, and crafts. Little porcelain figurines. Too many handmade candles. Crochet projects. A full dollhouse on a table in the corner.

   “My grandma passed a lot of craft skills down. She owned this amazingly strange trinket and voodoo shop in New Orleans that my aunts run now after Nana died."

   "Your mom didn't stay for a piece of that?" Billy let his eyes trail over every little thing.

   "Ah, I don't know. She was the baby and married pretty young. Seemed like she wanted something new," Evie peered behind her and whispered. "Never really got along with Nana like her older sisters did."

   Billy hummed a little. Decided not to pry with Mona in the next room. Evie brought him to the corner and flicked a lamp on.

   "Mom’s dollhouse is her pride and joy. Lights up and everything.”

   “Tell me why your mother has a framed photograph of Dolly Parton next to a picture of you two on the fireplace. And the same photo shrunk down in the dollhouse?”

   “Science may tell us the truth one day when the world is ready. And I fear for that day.” She replied in all seriousness and Billy snorted. Laughing.

   A truly enchanting sound Evie decided she liked.

   “And I have to say,” he plucked a photo off a bookshelf with a broad grin, “this one is my favorite.”

   One of Evie on Halloween. Had to be about six. Dressed in the campiest pink daisy costume with a huge toothy smile.

   “Gah,” she cringed and swiped it from his hand, “this house is a museum of embarrassment.”

   “You’re into the museum shit, guess this is like our first-” Billy stopped himself from producing the damning word when Evie turned. Blushing. Oof. He scratched the back of his neck. “So, uh, you got a bedroom in here or do you sleep in the dollhouse?”

   “You won’t find the cat that easily.” She caught him peering around again and led him past the kitchen. “C’mon, not much to the rest of the house. Garage. Spare room.” That used to be her dad’s office space. “Mom’s room. Attic up there and on this end. My cat's room that he lets me stay in too.”

   The door was open so Billy prodded it to peek inside. Evie exhaled and flicked the light on.

   It didn’t feel like a teenage girl’s bedroom. Not covered in decorations and pictures like the rest of the house. No posters cut from magazines covered in pink lipstick kisses.

   A vanity full of disorganized makeup. Desk. Overfilled bookcase of novels and tapes. Crafts and trinkets she collected in labeled tin boxes. Dresser covered in jewelry. Music player. Bed. Closet. Couple of pictures taped by the vanity and headboard. Mostly Evie and Heather laughing and bright. Her beloved acoustic guitar propped in the corner. 

   It felt like it was decorated by one trying to take up as little space as possible. Everything was compacted. Billy eyed the wall by her bed. Realized most of the papers were notes with random lyrics and words patched together.

   “Yeah, I tend to jot every little thought down even when I’m half asleep and hope it makes a song eventually.” She peered aside. It felt too intimate, letting Billy shift about the space.

   "Hey, everybody has a method." Two fingers traced over a note taped up to straighten it. She caught the ring gleaming on his middle finger. “My-”

   “Ah, don’t read them aloud, I may combust.” 

   “Oh?” Billy slunk toward her, licked his lips. A hungry way about it. Mouth watering fangs full of sweet venom. Wonder how they'd feel sinking into her throat. “Because I make you nervous, Angel?”

   “No, it’s just...just…weird.” Evie pressed up into her desk. Billy closed the distance. Got within inches of her. “It’s weird.”

   Repetition didn’t ease the sear of those ocean eyes drowning her too sweetly. She felt her chest fill and flutter all the way down. Flowers unfurled to be plucked and caressed. Billy pushed into the space until she was seated there on the desk. Scrambling further. Unable to climb the wall.

   “You do seem nervous though, Evie.” His tone hushed. Fingers brushed her thighs and palms came to rest there. The bunched fabric of her dress barely separating them. She inhaled his cologne. Smelled peppermint from his breath. Chest heaving.

   Billy knew this wasn’t part of the quest. If that’s what this was, maybe that was a nicer way to put it. Maybe rationalizing it a thousand times would help him get some sleep at night. Just show her a good night, cash in, and go home.

   It still sounded shitty. Wasn't doing Evie any favors. This girl painted too many iridescent colors. They could bleed and Billy wouldn't step away if it pooled too close.

   He liked to watch the blush spread across her freckled cheeks. Rose petals falling into a cool pond. Liked the way her nose scrunched when she smiled and when she was cross with him. 

   Billy didn't want her because she was a conquest. A challenge. Sure, she challenged him, that was part of it. And she also made him smile like he was looking at the rocking ocean waves again. Sand and wind kissing his warm skin. There was a mystery in those molten eyes he wanted to taste for himself. Maybe it was possible to just enjoy a person without strings.

   To let colors bleed and swirl. To just watch it happen without fear or judgement. To not step away from it either. Just sink right in and create those echoing ripples.

   It was too sweet and peculiar, how soft Evangeline Fenny was against the hard edges of his steel frame. So sharp, it warded everyone off.

   But, not Evie, she fit perfectly against him. Fire with fire. It gave them so much in this world that had forgotten them both. Freckles to count. Eyelashes to wish upon. Flesh curves and razor angles to explore.

   Hell, he even enjoyed how shaken she got as he neared and how still she went when his fingers trailed up her legs. 

   Evie watched his muscled chest rise, the saint pendant caught the light. Looked up at his eyes and then his mouth because it couldn’t be helped. Billy Hargrove filled Evie's space and lungs with sugary smoke. He was too many colors in one soul. So, he pushed further because those painted lips were big and full and right fucking there.

   One curious taste, that couldn't hurt.

   Brought his hand up toward her chin and leaned forth when…

   “Dinner!” 

   Evie practically shoved Billy back. Scrambled up so the desk gave a rut. Bright red as he stumbled.

   “Sorry.” She shuddered, passing him. Smelling of amber perfume. “Coming, mom.” Billy stared at the back of her hair. Blinked a couple times to pull himself together. To rationalize some.

   Curiosity. A deadly thing and so sweet too.

   It felt like he was dreaming and woke up sitting at the dinner table. Evie clicked a Coke in front of him, flashed a knowing expression that made him smirk before she sat down.

   “Now, I left a bowl in the kitchen to cool. We always bring extra to Miss Abigail, she’s three doors down.” Mona was setting plates about.

   “It looks amazing, Ms. Fenny.” Billy even shifted a dish to help make room for another.

   “Please, Billy, just Mona. Ms. Fenny was my mother and she was a harder woman.” She set a glass of water down and smoothed her dress out, sitting. Billy went for his fork and his hand was snatched. Evie shot him a look as Mona reached out. “I always say grace. Don’t feel pressured to join, sweetheart.” 

   Billy peered at Evie’s warm hand in his and accepted her mother’s. Bowed his head a little so Mona could say her prayer. 

   “Bless us, oh Lord. For this and all we are about to receive, make us truly grateful. And thank you for bringing Billy to our humble table, may he truly feel welcomed in our home. Please guide and protect him. Through Christ, we pray. Amen.”

   “Amen.” Evie offered softer. Lips lifting when Billy peered at their hands again leaving each other. Clearly not expecting such words from a neighbor.

   “You’ll forgive me, Billy, some people say they leave their hearts open. I just let mine fill the room.” Mona settled a napkin in her lap. “May I ask, if your family is religious at all?”

   “Dad’s Lutheran.” Which meant Susan was by default now whatever she believed before. “We don’t go to church or anything.”

   As if Neil Hargrove could drag his son under a steeple without one of them spontaneously combusting.

   “Well, that’s perfectly fine.” Mona cut each of her meatballs into smaller pieces which Evie mirrored. “Evie doesn’t attend with me when I go. Although, the choir sure misses her voice.”

   “Mom...” A teenage whine, near silent as she prodded at noodles.

   “She get all the solos?” Billy encouraged the pink spreading Evie’s cheeks.

   “Oh, every single one. She’s even been asked to come sing the national anthem at minor league baseball games.” Mona prattled and Evie’s head fell back.

   “Mom!” Another drawn out groan. Evie sunk down lower.

   “Oh, Evangeline, let your mother brag about you.” Mona ignored her.

   "Yeah, Evangeline." He chimed in, earning a harder glare.

   “Now, Billy, you’ve been in Hawkins just over two months?” Mona continued. Blue eyes lifted from the plate before he gave a nod. “How are you liking it? I’m sure it’s such a huge change from California. You must miss the beach.”

   “Getting used to the cold.” Billy speared a meatball and didn’t sound convincing.

   “I’ll bet you’ve never seen snow before, your poor sinuses aren’t going to know what to do. Anyone in your family takes ill, just give us a ring.” Such a mom. “It took me a few years to get used to the cold here too. We moved when Evie was just a baby straight up from N’aw Lins.” 

   Billy bit his tongue.

   “What type of music do you write?” Billy asked and there was a beat when Evie realized he was looking at her. Addressing her pointedly. Maybe to make conversation and suck up to her talkative mother. Evie’s back grew taut, lips opening.

   “Evie’s gonna be a folk singer.” Mona had cut in. “Voice of an angel, she’ll make it big. She’s been in competitions, just one look from any talent scout and she’s sold.” Evie sank down again to go back to her food. Billy watched her roll a meatball around her plate like it was the most interesting thing in the room. 

   Mona Fenny struck Billy as a woman who always meant well. Frilly like a lace doily. So well, she steamrolled over you because she knew best. Evie barely got two syllables out before her mother was flicking her hair and boasting. A doll that constantly had the string in its voice box yanked.

   Billy learned a great deal about her.

   That Mona had been arrested twice in her life for marching and protesting. Civil and women’s rights. She joked that she hadn't been arrested for gay rights yet, but looked forward to the inevitable. She was a pageant queen too. Stopped when she found out she was pregnant and couldn’t compete after that. No bitterness there of course. She had a daughter to mold and complete the legacy now.

   Mona insisted on taking the plates away. Grabbing her own, Billy’s, and a side dish. 

   Evie was still rolling that meatball around until Billy plucked up a fork, stabbed it, and swallowed in one bite. She perked with flushed cheeks. Glared again.

   Billy wanted attention.

   “Your mom is friendly.” Statement of the fucking millennium.

   “Just wait til she busts out her old pageant scrapbooks. You'll never see home again.” Evie quickly flashed a smile and picked up her own plate to follow her mother off. Billy stood too, peered around. That cat had to be close. “Give it up.” Arms crossed when she leaned into the doorway working a melting ice cube around her mouth. Swallowed it whole instead of crunching. Water ran in the kitchen behind her.

   “We agreed on an hour of television.” Billy matched her stance, saw her hip cock.

   “Half hour.”

   “Hour.” Billy went in to sit on the couch like he owned it. Legs spread. “Come on in, the water’s fine, Evangeline.” Evie plucked up the remote, sat as far away from him as she could. Turned the TV on to something campy just to make him suffer.

   “Fucking Love Boat. Really? Susan watches this crap.”

   “You said the full hour.” Evie flashed a smug grin. “I think The Golden Girls is on too.”

   “Love Boat is fine.” Billy lifted his hand. Swiped the remote from her to set it on the other side of him. They both sunk in there. Eyes on the screen. Mona left them alone to bring the plate to their neighbor, stayed for conversation.

   Billy fidgeted. Stretching to scoot closer so he could nudge his knee into Evie's. Her face remained at total peace. She pushed back at his leg which drew slow smiles upon them both.

   “What kind of music do you really like, or does your mother always do all the talking?”

   “Doesn’t matter.” Evie felt him peer back over and held herself. A beat.

   “Yeah, your dreams. They don't matter." Came sarcasm. "A girl who wants her name in lights. Don't spend too much time feeling for the switch in darkness, Angel."

   "Why do you want to know?"

   "Just asking. You really want to sit in silence to this cheesefest? Young actresses paired with old ass grandpas playing love sick.” Billy put his arm up over the couch. Missed Evie twitch. Got his hand smacked for tugging her curl like a giddy little boy. 

   “I don’t know,” Evie faced him with a shrug, “somewhere in the rock and pop area. Maybe with a touch of soul. Not the hair metal I’m sure you’re into."

   How beautiful she looked when she hoped.

   "And my name in lights won't ever be enough, I need people to chant it too.”

   Lips curled at Evie.

   “Better than folk music.” Billy decided. Pride welled because she smiled too. Genuinely. Evie fiddled with her necklace. Delicate little music note caught the technicolor glow. Brown eyes turned to see him, she tried to bite the smile down. Failed.

   “So, what’s the deal with this party thing? A dance?”

   “One of many in the city. Bunch of high schools will probably run drunk through the streets with everyone else. No one will get carded because no one cares on New Years. Dancing and whatever. Watch the ball drop, it’s just the feral thing to do that night.”

   “And you could score with any girl, but you’re asking me. It won’t be like a date or anything.” Evie dropped the charm in her fingers to see Billy’s eyes linger.

   “You mentioned that. I know how to get out and have a good time without fucking. I have all sorts of tricks.” He noted the word didn’t make her wince. “Not looking to break your seal.”

   “You’re gross.” Again, no argument on the details of it.

   “You’re too tightly wound.” He paused, whispering. “Maybe not, but you hide it.”

   "Nothing to hide, I'm an open book."

   "A never ending record," Billy pushed into her so their legs pressed flush, "not nervous around me though."

   "Nope." Her lips popped, fingers curling into the hem of her dress when his arm snaked behind the couch. "Not nervous."

   "Not running either." That realization seemed to hit them both.

   "Why would I? I can handle you just fine." She hissed at that because it came out sexual. Billy licked his lips and snickered, shifting to face her head on.

   "Oh, I like the sound of that." He'd murmured, inches from her face. Evie found herself wondering how he managed to weasel his way in this close. Wondered why she was drinking him back in. "Picture this. You and this perfume enjoying a couple free drinks and some fireworks in the city. No strings attached. Not a date. Just those exploding lights and that chilly wind cooling your cheeks down, because you'll be blushing and you won't know it."

   "Uh huh. I guess I can see it." Evie sized him up and crossed her legs to lean back into him. "You and the roar of a Camaro commanding the city to its knees. Glam and hairspray working their magic."

   "I love an audience, Angel." Billy shook his head and froze because her palm came to his knee. Bold move. "But, I don't mind the front seat to see you blush too."

   "What about you?" She whispered with a hum. "What makes King Billy blush? Does all the noise you like to make hide it?" A spark flitted up her eyes. Made his chest heave. "Is that your secret?"

   "Come to the party, I'll tell you all my secrets." Fingers grazed up her arm when soft digits gave a rhythmic tap against his thigh. Billy went for it. "Do this dance with me."

   "You don't play as hard to get as you let on."

   "Not when I want something bad. Better to just play harder." Lips parted to hit that word. Her brows lifted at such an admittance. "You're sizzling up a fuse, aren't you, Evie?" She shook her head with a lazy smile. Eyes finding his again after. Near sultry.

   "You have to light a fuse first, Billy, for it to sizzle." Her hand crept along denim. Felt him go rigid and part his thighs just a little bit wider before she sat back. "And the fire's out anyway. I'll make good on the deal. If you win."

   "I hope you have a dress picked." Billy scoffed, breathless and still intent on her while she looked ahead at the screen.

   “Time is ticking. As if you taking me out will do me any good." Evie rolled her eyes and reclined back into his side. Quite comfortably like she wasn't thinking about it. "Give me cool points so Tommy and Carol leave me alone.”

   “They’re assholes to everyone. It’s not you.” Billy replied dismissively. Curled his finger into her locks behind the sofa.

   “You don’t notice who they target because you’re too busy chasing skirts and fighting others yourself. Also haven't seen the writing about me on the bathroom walls. School hierarchy rules. Open those pretty ocean eyes and see the world for what it is. You're untouched because of your front. Everyone wants to be Billy Hargrove or screw him.”

   Evie looked at him there, blinking.

   "What side of the line are you on?" He bit his lip. "I can guess."

   She plucked his hand from her shoulder and placed it back into his lap. Patted it for good measure.

   “So, you really think my eyes are pretty?” Billy laughed when a square pillow nailed him in the face. "You said it before too! When we were drunk and you still think it now that we're sober. Telling."

   Tension shattered. Evie glittered right back at him, teeth flashing. Still chuckling, he tilted his head back to create the magical sound. Quieted.

   “Fine. I’ll pay attention if it helps you sleep at night.”

   Evie blew air out her lips, let a curl fly up and bounce down. They watched the screen again. Shared a space. Maybe it shouldn't have felt so intimate. 

   “Episode’s almost over. Thanks for playing.” She about sang. Triumphant.

   “I guess you have me, Fenny.” Billy pushed up. “Mind if I take a leak?” He was already pacing off so she said nothing.

   Just watched couples go hand in hand into the sunset.

   There was a flush, the sink running, and then Billy’s huge smile crept back down the hallway. The boy was gone all of three minutes.

   Bourbon in his arms. Purring. Perfectly happy. Evie’s jaw dropped open.

   “Guess who crawled out of the shower to eyeball my junk? Not that I blame him.” Billy quipped, scratching the cat’s chin. Bourbon rubbed back into the touch. Rasped his scratchy meow for more.

   “Traitor...” Evie muttered, coming to her feet. “Damn it.”

   “Oh, yeah. You’re mine now, Evie. Seven o’clock. Wear something short if you like.” Billy’s lips were pressed up. Such an ass.

   "I call foul." Her finger lifted.

   "And I'll be calling on you. New Years Eve. Just an annoying dance. It'll be fun and free." His chin gestured at her. "Just say yes, Evie. Get out of this small town and see some lights for once. You want your name in them so bad, you gotta look at the damn things first. No day but today. Right?"

   "Right," a lengthy sigh, "but, the fire's still out. Bourbon, why? First, mom and now you. He's just hypnotizing you both.” Evie took the cat from Billy, watched his face scrunch.

   “Your cat is really named Bourbon?” He said flatter.

   “I found him when we visited family in New Orleans. Bourbon street.” She let the feline nuzzle into her chest.

   “God, Angel, I hope your lyrics are more creative than that.” Billy lightened, chest shaking as he peered away shaking his pretty head. “Well?”

   She pouted and if that cat wasn't between them, Billy didn't know what he would have done. Another time or place. Another pretty dress. Another shared beat of bleeding together.

   That itched him the rest of the night.

   “I’ll go. Seven. I’ll dress nice. It’s not a date, so don’t try anything and get me home in one piece. I reserve the right to leave you if you act like too much of an ass.” Evie grumbled some about it, defeated.

   But, she wondered about the lights and what it might be like to share them. Suppressed all urges that longed to hope.

   “That much I can do, I might even keep my ass in check. Don’t flake, we have a deal. I’ll be your Mr. Darcy or whatever.” Billy made for the door, plucking up his jacket as she opened it.

   “That’s an impossible standard, but keep dreaming.” Evie sighed out. Watched him turn to beam. Offered a pet to Bourbon. “Least you got his name right.”

   “Quick learner, I get points. New Years Eve. Don’t make me chase you, Evie, because I will.” Billy stepped off the porch lighting a cigarette, idly waved behind him.

   Game. Set. Match.

   “I’m not gonna be nice about it.” She called.

   “So, you’ll be your normal, cheery self with me. Great. Won't ask for anything else, we have a good thing going.” He turned to wink, curling a final smile. Evie stilled, petting her cat before sighing into the cold air. “See you then, Fenny.”

   “Whatever you say, Hargrove.” She shut the door as he climbed his own porch. Looked at her cat.

   “You did this to us, I hope you’re proud.” 

   Bourbon blinked. Another rumbling purr in response.

** ** **

   “The world...” Evie plucked an idle cord. Sang soft to not disturb her mother down the hallway sleeping. Nestled into the wall on her bed next to the window. “May think I’m foolish. They can’t see you like I can...”

   Darkness shrouded save for a small set of twinkling lights around her bed frame. Eyes kept averting to the clock.

   “Oh, but anyone...who...” 

   Another pause to see the clock. Eyes flickered out along the street marked with lamps. Cracking her window to see out. Nothing. Evie settled. Changed the tune to something original and plucked another heart string.

   “Those ocean eyes… Drowning me out. What I wouldn't give to...” Her palm caught the vibrating cord to snuff the sound. A groan as she set the guitar aside. “Shit.”

   That was not happening.  

   A car went down the street at the exact moment the clock struck eleven. Evie grabbed her coat and locked her bedroom door. Checked her hair and makeup before hitching one leg over the window. Felt the naughty thrill pulse into her heart as she snuck out.

   Billy peered to see beyond his own window near the foot of his bed. Unseen in the pitch black space. Thought about catching her. It was always a Saturday night. Evie Fenny crept out like clockwork. Wearing something nice under a jacket she held close. Sometimes with the guitar on her back. Lips painted red. Went down the street and returned as the sun rose. He’d observed it often. Sometimes it happened on school nights. Two to three times a week. Never asked because it didn’t seem important enough before. But, now…

   Billy knew a teen girl didn’t paint her lips red at eleven o’clock on a Saturday for just anyone.

   Evie hurried down the street toward the woods at the end. Got into a shiny car. Disappeared until sunrise.

~~~~~

Chat with me about Evie & Billy and the impending Skirt Safari Dance! Thanks!

TAGGED:@80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason​ @orxhidshavana​   @alagalaska​ @alongcamedolly​

[betterbe-ravenclaw]

A HPHM character profile - Naomi Kinnley

Naomi has been being developed for a good while now, and I know that my version of events will clash with that of others (over love interest, profession, interests, family etc) so I really hope that won't be a problem. It's taken a long time for me to post this because I'm extremely nervous but hopefully Naomi and I can fit into the community!

(This wonderful profile template is by @hogwartsmysterystory and made introducing Naomi so much easier than it could have been, so thank you!)

Also the artwork is by me. Still practicing humans.

Identity:

Name: Naomi Justine kinnley

Gender: Female

Age: 15 (in game currently, I guess her age technically changes with each scenario as necessary)

Date of Birth: 27th April 1973

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Sexuality: straight (or heterosexual, they both mean the same thing right?)

Ethnicity: English, Welsh, French

Nationality: English

Residence: The Kinnley Household, #.17 Turley Avenue, Norwich, Norfolk, England

MBPT: ISFP - the adventurer

The Mage:

1st wand: cedar, dragon heartstring core, slightly springy, 11 ½ inches

“...‘you will never fool the cedar carrier,’ and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them”

“As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner.”

2nd wand: willow, phoenix feather core, reasonably supple, 12 ¼ inch

“Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn...”

“This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike.”

Animagus: N/A

Misc magical abilities: Apparition and Disapparition

Boggart form: missing a chance to save somebody special to her (usually Rowan, her brother or Murphy) because she was preoccupied with something novel and insignificant. Knowing she should have and could have been there and would have been able to help - but wasn’t. (Shows up as herself with her back to the incident, not noticing when her loved one calls out for help)

Riddikulus form: in being preoccupied with said novel activity, she misses her loved one(s) not being murdered, but instead making silly faces 0r acting clownish behind her back, a bit like in a pantomime.

Amortentia (their smell): home baked bread, a wildflower field, crisp new parchment, baled hay, plums from her grandparents’ orchard and vanilla.

Amortentia (what they smell): mown grass, cinnamon, old books, home baked cookies, polished leather, lavender laundry detergent and the sea.

Patronus: leopardess

Strong

Graceful

Quiet

Independent

Protective

Patronus memory: sitting at the attic window with her brother early on christmas morning as a child, drinking hot chocolate with those tiny muggle marshmallows and munching on their mother’s cookies that they weren't supposed to have until the afternoon. Talking and playing wizards chess, exploding snap and their dad's old Muggle board games, watching the sunrise and being together.

Mirror of erised:

during hogwarts - reliving her patronus memory every christmas as tradition goes. Still having Jacob shake her awake at ridiculous o’clock and take her upstairs to the window where he’d set up their blanket instead of waking up of her own accord and sitting alone until the sunrise.

As an adult - hosting dinner at the house she shares with her husband and children for all her close friends and family. All of them. Those who are gone would be there too for a night of good food and good company where the children would run around playing and Naomi would get a warm feeling of belonging in her heart.

specialized/favourite spell:

Pretego - she never wants anyone she loves to come to harm, especially after rowans passing.

Expecto Patronum - beautiful, peaceful and protective. Useful and stunning all at the same time. A thing of comfort and joy.

Avis - she’s calmed around animals and birds. Just for fun.

Ferula & episkey - similar to protego, to help those who come to harm and keep them from pain as much as possible.

Lumos - simple and useful. It was one of the first things she learnt at Hogwarts and feels nostalgic.

Appearance:

Faceclaim: Willa Holland (just imagine she has freckles.)

Game appearance:

Height: 5’6” (170.7cm)

Weight: 151lbs (68.5kg)

Physique: Slim

Eye colour: hazel, quite green in places

Hair colour: dark brown, looks ginger in the sun, loosely curly

Skin tone: medium, somewhere in between olive and pale.

Body modifications: she has one piercing in each earlobe that she got aged 10. She mainly just wears studs.

Scarring: nothing major, she has a few little scars from mundane accidents like cutting her knee on a rock but that's about it.

Inventory: wand, quill, ink, chapstick, hair ties, a hairbrush, prefect badge, scrap parchment, glasses, glasses case, half finished bag of sherbet lemons, unopened packet of every flavour beans and a leather notebook with unlimited pages for notes on everything

Fashion: Naomi likes to pair denim bottoms (jeans or shorts or sometimes a skirt if she's in the mood) with a t-shirt - she likes the ones with different coloured sleeves and also ones with words on the front. She'll also wear denim jackets and leggings and knitted sweaters and sometimes summer dresses and skirts. She mostly likes comfortable stuff. If it feels good on her body and she's comfortable in it she'll wear it.

Allegiances:

Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

Affiliations / organisations: the circle of Khanna, the order of the phoenix, the ministry of magic, the department of magical law enforcement - auror division

Professions:

Age 11-18 : Hogwarts student

Age 18-21 : Trainee Auror, part of the ministry of magic's department of magical law enforcement Auror training programme

Age 21-25 : Junior Auror, department of magical law enforcement - Auror devison

Age 25 - 28 : unemployed, having taken a break from work to focus on the family after the war

Age 28 - 40 : Senior Auror, department of Magical law enforcement - Auror devison

Age 40 - 46 : Head Auror, department of Magical law enforcement - Auror devison

Age 46 - 48 : Assistant manager at Cathy's Bakes (her mother in law's bakery)

Age 48 - Retirement : manager at Cathy's Bakes

Hogwarts info:

Class proficiencies:

Astronomy - E

Charms - O

Defence against the dark arts - O

Flying - O

Herbology - A

History of magic - E

Potions - O

Transfiguration - O

Electives:

Care of Magical Creatures - O

Arithmancy - E

Divination - A

Quidditch: Chaser from 2nd year onwards

Extra curricular: Quidditch, Dueling Club, prefect

Favourite professors: Flitwick, McGonagall, Kettleburn

Least favourite professors: Binns, Trelawney, Rakepick

Relationships:

Brother: Jacob William Kinnley

born 5th October, 1964

Goes by J

Ravenclaw

About 8 years older than Naomi

Curly brown hair, green eyes, really tall, stubble

Kind-hearted, witty, humorous and strong, though short tempered and more reserved after his disappearance

Was always Naomi's favourite sibling Because he was similar to her and actually had time for her. They were very close growing up, pushing Naomi to try and find him. She wanted that back.

Misc siblings: Cynthia Eleanor Kinnley

Born 16th January 1968

Goes by Cindy

Gryffindor

About 5 years older than Naomi

Straight black hair, hazel eyes, tall, attractive

Outgoing, kind, reckless and charming. She and Naomi fought more and weren't as close as Naomi and Jacob.

Ran off to study magical creatures in Africa after Jacob's disappearance to escape her troubles.

Independent magizoologist, works with a small team on less explored species

Father: Anthony Kinnley

Born 7th March 1942

Muggleborn

Ravenclaw

Curly dark brown hair, green eyes, tall, stubble

Kind-hearted, protective, quiet, calm and stronger than he looks. Was able to keep himself together following Jacobs disappearance, if only for the sake of his wife and daughters.

Works for the ministry of magic, department of international magical cooperation

Mother: Eleanor Kinnley née Campbell

Born 18th May 1942

Pureblood

Hufflepuff

Straight black hair, hazel eyes, short, curvy, beautiful

Used to be jolly, humorous and charming, though is mentally unstable after Jacob disappeared. Depressed and not like she used to be, particularly around holidays.

Currently unemployed, hardly leaves the house. Previously a nurse at St. Mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries

Grandparents: Marigold Kinnley (née West), William Kinnley, Justine Campbell (née Bordeaux), Henry Campbelll (Deceased)

Misc family members: Simon Kinnley (Uncle), Timothy Kinnley (uncle), Flora Kinnley (née Brown, Aunt), Laura Peters (née Kinnley, Aunt), Robert Peters (Uncle), Geraldine Campbell (Great Aunt), Delia Peters (Cousin), Felicity Peters (Cousin), Liam Peters (cousin) , Marcus Kinnley (cousin), Cathleen McNully (Mother-in-law)

Love interest:

Barnaby Lee (Briefly - 4th year)

Attended the celestial ball together

Barnaby broke it off after a few weeks wanting to be just friends

Naomi had much the same feelings

Murphy McNully (Briefly -5th year)

Dated in secret for about a month and a half

Broke it off because they didn't see eye to eye in their relationship.

Ended with an argument

Charlie Weasley (Briefly - 5th year)

Flirted shameless for weeks

Went on about four dates before Naomi realised she didn't feel right with him and stopped the relationship before too much happened

Murphy McNully (5th year onwards - Spouse)

Got back together in undisclosed circumstances after Naomi and Charlie agreed to be just friends

Spent a year doing long distance after Murphy graduated (him being in the year above her)

Moved in together after Naomi graduated

Eventually Married before having five children.

Children:

Marigold Rowan McNully,

born 28th June, 1993

Goes by Goldie

Ravenclaw

Golden child

Lives up to her namesakes dream of becoming hogwarts' youngest ever professor (Transfiguration)

Cathleen Penelope McNully,

born 1st February, 1995

Likes to be called Kitty or Kit

Gryffindor

Bit of a troublemaker

Professional beater and quidditch star before taking over at the bakery for a 3rd generation

Anthony Jacob McNully,

born 2nd December 1998

Has the nickname Tony

Ravenclaw

Bisexual

Qualified healer working with underprivileged wizarding communities

Eleanor Nymphadora McNully,

born 13th August 2002

Everyone calls her Nelly

Hufflepuff

Daddy's girl through and through

Follows in her father's footsteps becoming a professional quidditch commentator

Henry Charles McNully,

born 30th April 2006

Ravenclaw

Bit of a mummy's boy

A surprise baby

An Auror like his mother

Best friends:

Rival: Merula Snyde, Erika Rath

(school) - Rowan Kahnna, Nymphadora Tonks, Tulip Karasu, Charlie Weasley, Skye Parkin, Penny Haywood, Murphy McNully.

Enemy: Patricia Rakepick

Dormmates: Rowan Kahnna, Tulip Karasu, Badeea Ali

Pets:

Toby

Chocolate brown cocker spaniel

Lives at her home with her parents

Miranda

Birman Cat

Accompanies Naomi to Hogwarts

Maurice

Black horse with a balze (white mark on face)

Lives at her grandparents farm

Closest canon friends: Rowan, Penny, Murphy, Skye, Charlie, Tonks, Tulip, Bill, Andre, Barnaby, Orion, Badeea

Closest MC friends:

Ravenna Glynn (@chronic-clinomania )

Calista Slater (@i-am-not-cursed )

Naomi's always willing to make new friends, even if it takes her a while to pluck up the courage to approach somebody. Maybe message me if you want your MC to be friends?

Background / history:

Pre-Hogwarts:

Naomi was born at 7:13am on the 27th of April 1973 (a week late) as the third and youngest child to Eleanor and Anthony Kinnley.

Her childhood is happy. She gets along with both parents and both siblings (though she and Cindy clash more than her and Jacob) and has a pretty normal home life - save for the magic part.

Jacob began attending Hogwarts when Naomi was only 3 years old, And Cynthia when she was 6, making for a good amount of quiet time which Naomi was very fond of.

As soon as Naomi was able to read and write fluently - about aged 6 - she would exchange letters with both her siblings. She and Jacob wrote to each other more often, as they were the closest of the siblings.

She attended a Muggle primary school like her siblings, though only ever made a couple of friends and wasn't too upset to lose contact with them when she left for hogwarts.

Though the first wizarding war was taking place throughout her childhood, Naomi's family had never been a large target or very involved in the war effort - her parents had decided to put safety above all else, therefore neglecting to join the order of the phoenix and keeping themselves to themselves as much as possible.

Naomi was 8, nearing 9, when Jacob went missing in 1981. Old enough to understand and make her own judgements of the situation. She was immediately distraught though found it hard to accept that her beloved big brother would just leave her and spent over a year writing to him to find out where he had gone, without a single reply. In the end, just before she left for Hogwarts, Naomi decided that she'd do whatever it took to find her brother, her stubbornness taking over.

In Hogwarts:

Of course, the events of Hogwarts mystery happen during this time, though other points include the following

After being sorted into Ravenclaw house, Naomi quickly becomes very close friends with Rowan Khanna. After their initial meeting in Diagon alley, Naomi feels comfortable enough to talk freely with the girl and by the time Christmas rolls around she can firmly say that Rowan is her best friend.

Naomi is obviously a competent and talented student in many areas. A lot of teachers take a shine to her as she's focused and a hard worker. Therefore, she's often asked to perform demonstrations and to assist other students.

In her second year, Naomi became the newest chaser on the Ravenclaw quidditch team. To this day, she is grateful to Penny for pushing her to try out because quidditch helped her become the person she is today and introduced her to some of her closest friends and, of course, her now-husband.

Naomi spends a lot of time at the quidditch pitch, In the quidditch stands, in the three broomsticks, by the black lake and, after accidentally stumbling upon it in her 6th year with Tonks, Tulip and Charlie, the room of requirement. After Christmas of 5th year, Naomi also spends a good amount of time in the kitchens, practicing her new hobby of baking.

She and her dorm-mates often stock up on sweets from honeydukes and chose a night to stay up talking and eating until the morning. At some point, they started inviting other girl friends into the dorm for the night (starting after tonks unsuccessfully tried to sneak in behind tulip.)

Post Hogwarts:

Having been unsure about what her career would be all throughout school, Naomi decided to join Tonks in the auror training programme. She deduces that this job would be a good fit for her, and ends up really enjoying it.

Murphy proposes to her 3 years after the initial start of their relationship

They're married not long after, with Penny as Maid of Honour and Orion as best man. Naomi had both her father and brother give her away.

She and Murphy end up living near his mother in a previously abandoned house just outside his home town. It's pretty secluded so they can practice magic without worrying.

By 1995, Naomi and Murphy had had their first two children - Marigold and Cathleen - just as the second wizarding war was beginning.

The second wizarding war:

Both Naomi and Murphy join the order of the phoenix, her auror training coming in handy and him being focused on strategies (what else?). She has many missions, including surveillance and combat.

In joining the order of the phoenix, Naomi gets a chance to meet the golden trio. Harry, Ron and Hermione immediately seem more than capable, and Naomi makes sure she takes the time to let them know she's willing to help them out however she can.

In early 1998, Naomi falls pregnant for a third time, though decides that she won't tell anyone until she has to, trying not to add stress to the already scary times.

During the battle of Hogwarts, Naomi had very close encounters with Bellatrix LeStrange and Augustus Rookwood - both of whom came rather close to finishing her off. Fortunately, her auror training, dueling club experience and protect-don't-harm nature came through, and she managed to stun both death eaters before they took her life.

Naomi was there to witness Tonks' death. That moment was haunting and still shows up in her nightmares from time to time. She was also in the vicinity when Fred Weasley was killed.

Throughout the entire war, Naomi did not use an unforgivable curse once - something she's proud of as she often wanted to murder those death eaters who took her friends.

Post second wizarding war:

Murphy and Naomi both Survive the war, and Naomi took a break from work after the war to recover from the trauma and focus on herself and her family.

When she finally goes back to work, she is able to get to know Harry Potter and Ron Weasley a lot better and they end up becoming good family friends (along with the rest of the weasley family.)

She remains an Auror until the age of 46 (become head auror during this time) before resigning and taking over from her mother in law at the bakery. It's a very much welcomed change of pace (although Naomi is always willing to lend a hand on the odd auror mission at the request of Harry.)

Naomi often invites a large gathering of friends and family over for celebrations - notable occasions include New year's, her children's birthdays and the anniversary of both Rowan's death and the battle of Hogwarts. There's always a lot of food (usually prepared with the help of Cathy and Molly Weasley) and good times.

Home life is wonderful, She and Murphy have a very happy marriage and spend their lives together with their children, and then later their grandchildren.

Personality:

Protective - Naomi is very keen on the defensive way of doing things. She doesn't like to cause harm to anybody unless she can't see any alternative way out of a situation. Along with this, although she is usually pretty quiet and reserved, Naomi will never stand by whilst somebody (especially a friend) is struggling or in trouble. It's one of the few circumstances where Naomi will actually put herself into the action voluntarily.

Creative - Naomi is good at thinking on the spot. She can come up with solutions to a problem when all other possible solutions fall through by thinking outside the box.

Loyal - Naomi hasn't always found it easy to make friends, she's shy and gets very nervous talking to new people, but once she's made friends with somebody Naomi is always going to be there. She's always willing to take on their problems and help in whatever way she can, and makes sure that her friends know how grateful she is to have them and that she's always there when they need her.

Empathetic - Naomi is very good at understanding the feelings of others and knowing exactly what to say to make people calm down and feel better. She can put herself in people's shoes and also acts as the peacekeeper in many arguments as she can .

Easily Stressed - Naomi is an overthinker, she starts to panic when things start to go wrong and gets very stressed. The smallest thing can make her frustrated or worried, and though she can usually hide these feelings in the day, they always come out at night or at any time if they're strong enough. She finds it very hard to let go and let bad things happen.

Stubborn - Naomi isn't likely to back down from many things without a fight. She doesn't like to be wrong, accept too much help or admit she's made a mistake, just as she hates to lose an argument. She always makes sure to be as calm and polite as possible if she has different feelings, but sometimes she can't help but raise her voice.

Naomi is also pretty patient, indecisive, quiet, a good listener, generous and naturally intelligent among other things.

Miscellaneous:

As a baby, Naomi has thick, long, curly hair and was rather chubby, though by the time she reached 7, her curls loosened and her baby fat was no longer a problem. She still had very long hair though.

She goes by Mia to her friends, and Nomi, love and Mia to Murphy. She's also the only person other than his mother who's allowed to call Murphy by his first name or Murph, and also calls him darling, McNully and button (the nickname button has a backstory that I may or may not disclose at some point. She only calls him that when she's teasing him though.)

She was very nearly a hatstall between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff - and she ended up dictating the final decision. Naomi knows she would have been fine in either house now, but at the time, Ravenclaw seemed like the only option because Rowan had just been sorted into it, and it had been the house of her brother.

Although Naomi has glasses, she can usually see just fine without them, and doesn't bother wearing them outside of class.

She's a fiddler a doodler and a nail biter. All happen when she's nervous and/or bored. She'll work her nails down as much as she can and will pick up and play around with just about anything. She's also very prone to drawing and writinh all over her wrists - lists, memos, ideas, harmless pictures of golden snitches and nifflers and Murphy.

Naomi can both ride and drive horses and enjoys it rather a lot. She learnt on her Muggle grandparents' farm where she spent most of her summer holidays as a child and Hogwarts student.

Naomi and Murphy's mother Cathleen, or Cathy, are very good friends. They get along incredibly well and Naomi now comes to Cathy more than her own mother for advice. They spend a lot of time discussing Murphy and other things - often baking in the meantime (Cathy introduced her to baking and Naomi even ends up taking over her bakery business.)

Naomi was one of the few people allowed to attend Tonks and Remus' Wedding, and likes to keep in touch with Teddy Lupin after his parents death (relatively easy as he's good friends with her son Anthony and her Daughter Eleanor.)

She can't decide if her favourite colour is Yellow or blue. They've been her top two since forever but she's never been quite sure which is better.

[scribomaniac]

Something Wicca This Way Comes Ch 7

Unedited! Please forgive me but I’m tired and will edit it tomorrow for Ao3

@andiirivera @blackwidownat2814 @gryphbear @meredeph @jonesfandomfanatic @forget-me-not-s @groovyfoxpeace @superchocovian @therealstartraveller776 @stahlop @kmomof4 @teamhook

While everyone’s attention was on Will or the broken wreck of their home, it was almost too easy for the demon to slip out the front door undetected. If Emma hadn’t been facing that direction, she would have missed it to. Cutting her conversation with Killian short, she quickly followed the invisible being out onto the front patio. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she called, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I know you’re here Glass.”

One minute there was nothing, and then suddenly a tall, light skinned man was standing before her. “Hello Emma. Fancy meeting you here.”

Tilting her head to the side, Emma raised a brow, “What are you doing here Glass? This is my gig.”

“You sure about that?” Sidney Glass frowned as he began to circle her. The creases beside his mouth deepened, making his face look too long to be human. “Because I hear that the Source grows tired of waiting. He wants results.”

“And he’ll get them,” Emma tried to hide the annoyance in her voice, but from the look Glass gave her, she wasn’t successful. “I’m close.”

Glass laughed and stopped his shark-like behavior. His shoes clicked as he snapped his heels together before her. “No,” he sighed, “you’re not. You’re distracted.”

Snarling, Emma stepped closer to get into his face, “Watch it, Sidney, or I swear, you get in my way again--”

“And what?” Glass smirked before his form disappeared. Emma barred her teeth at the darkness, her eyes snapping this way and that, trying to figure out where he went. “You can’t fight what you can’t see, Emma.”

After a moment of silence, Emma determined he’d left and shimmered down to the Underworld. Her destination wasn’t her little hole in the wall though, this time it was the Source’s chambers. Emma’s skin was hot with her anger and she felt the urge to tear something apart with her bare teeth. She was the Source’s most trusted bodyguard. She was his Firestarter. She wouldn’t be sidelined by some second rate demon who’s only skills were invisibility and pure gall. 

When she arrived in the dark and stony chamber, the Source wasn’t alone. Baelfire sat in one corner, picking at a few pieces of cooked meat left over on the room’s table. He looked up at her arrival, then narrowed his eyes when he registered her anger. 

The source sat before his spinning wheel. He was participating in his usual past time of turning straw into gold. When she was a child, growing up at his side, she’d loved watching him do it. It was a beautifully elegant process, and a surprisingly delicate hobby for someone as powerful and brutal as the Source. 

Today though she was two seconds away from turning the spinning wheel into a pile of tinder. “Master.” She kept her fisted hands at her sides, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms. 

The Source made a low noise of acknowledgment but didn’t raise his gaze from his task. “What is it, dearie?” His voice was deceptively low and calm as he said, “You look quite heated.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Glass?” Her mouth pulled back into a scowl but the rest of her remained frozen. No matter how mad she was, she knew the Source’s demeanor could change at any moment. One false step and he’d rup out her heart. He’d probably hand it over to Baelfire too, as a snack.

“Hmm? Oh yes,” he blinked, then looked up at her. His big yellow eyes honed in on her and his shiny green lips pulled back into a smile. “Because I didn’t want to.”

Baelfire snorted, but quickly averted his eyes when Emma turned her head to glare at him. Taking a deep breath, Emma tried to cool the raging fire in her head. She felt like a volcano about to erupt. “I don’t need his help,” she bit out. “My plan is working. If you just give me more time--”

“Two months is quite a bit of time already, don’tchya think?” The Source asked, his nose scrunching up as he spoke his quick words. 

“Other demons have had two years and I don’t even get two months? That’s bullshit!”

“Nah-nah-nah!” The Source wagged his finger at her and bared his teeth in a challenging sort of smile. “Two months with all the knowledge of those who came before you. It’s been too long and I want them dead.” The Source shook his head, his shoulder length wavy hair barely moving as he did so. He stood up and straightened his tailed jacket. “The Seer assured me that Glass would come in handy. How, I don’t care. Now get to it girlie!” He titled his head to the side and gave a theatrical flourish with his hands, “Those Charmed Ones aren’t going to destroy themselves!”

He disappeared in a wall of flames. 

“Aww, don’t look so grumpy, Emma,” Baelfire smirked at her from where he sat in the corner. “Dad’s just messing with you.”

“Don’t you start!” She snapped, placing her hands on her hips and giving him an unimpressed look. “I know you broke into the Jones house last week. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Shrugging, Baelfire sighed, “I was curious. Wanted to see if I could get my hands on that book of theirs.” Tsking, he looked away and added, “Couldn’t even touch the damned thing.”

Emma shook her head and moved on, “Why Glass? He’s just going to be a nuisance. I don’t have time for this.”

Lazily tossing a piece of meat her way, Baelfire rolled his eyes, “Relax! Just get rid of him if he annoys you so much. No one would even notice if he were gone.”

Dragging a hand down her face, she pointed out the obvious, “He can turn invisible. Makes it kind of hard to hurt him.”

“Hard,” Baelfire leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs, “but not impossible. Have you ever heard of ectoplasmic biochemistry?”

“What?” Emma shook her head, exasperated at his question. What kind of question even was that anyway?

Baelfire laughed, “Thought not. It means that Glass doesn’t like the cold. It makes him visible.” He leaned back and smirked, “Too bad he doesn’t have the nerve endings to warn him when the temperature takes a dip.”

Emma stared at him long and hard. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. He was telling the truth. Running her tongue across the edge of her teeth, Emma hatched a plan.

The next day, Emma watched the Jones house until the sun set and the three brothers all left the house together. Liam and Will were bickering about something, but Emma was too far away to hear. She made a mental note of it though. Bickering led to fights, and fights led to destruction. 

When the Charmed Ones finally pulled out of the driveway, Emma left her little corner and walked straight up to the front door. Liam had been the last one to leave the house, and according to David’s official notes that meant-- “Aha,” Emma hummed as she easily turned the door’s handle and found no resistance. 

Leaving the door open behind her, Emma sauntered over to the thermostat and turned on the air conditioning. The night was supposed to be a cold one, the coldest of the year so far in fact. Emma made sure to turn the thermostat as low as it would go, and then moved to the parlor. Room after room she went, opening every window she came across to let in the chilly night wind. 

She went through the second floor next, then made her way up to the attic. This door was in fact locked, something Emma rolled her eyes at before shimmering to the other side. Unlocking the door, she opened it and set her sights on the large bay windows just past the Book of Shadows.

Emma eyed the relic on her way, wondering how many demons were listed in it. Was she? Shaking her head, she walked past it and opened the windows, taking a second to appreciate the cool breeze on her still hot skin. Even after her talk with Baelfire she still felt out of control. She’d see the Seer tonight, she decided. A vial of tonic always helped and she needed more anyway. 

Turning around, Emma thought about what she’d do next. Take some tonic, obviously, but maybe after she’d pop in on Killian at the pub. He’d probably love that. Flirting with him was like walking a fine line. She couldn’t be too accessible or else he’d grow bored, but too standoffish and he’d give in. Emma needed to find a way to capitalize on the discontent she’d witnessed between Liam and Will earlier. Killian would know what they were arguing about, she mused, it’d be easy enough to find that information out from him. 

But first, Emma shook her head, she had to take care of Glass. Heading back the way she came, Emma once again found herself staring at the Book of Shadows. Her heart pounded in her chest and something in the back of her mind whispered for her to reach out and touch its pages. Stepping closer, her fingers itched to do so. Baelfire was a demon--well, half anyway--maybe since she was human she could--

She took another step closer and felt a strike of lightning wrap itself around her neck, and soon her vision went black.

I Killian I

“It worked!” Liam yelled, his voice muffled by the live band’s instruments. Had it not been for the fact that his elbow jammed itself into Killian’s drink, spilling it all over the bar, Killian probably wouldn’t have noticed anything.  

Accepting the clean hand towel from August, Killian began sopping up the liquid and asked, “What worked?”

“The crystal!” He stood up and grabbed Killian by the back of his neck, “We have to go. Will!” 

After grabbing the youngest Jones brother--ripping him away from his date in the process--the three of them were on their way back to the manor. Before they had initially left for the evening Liam had confessed he’d created a sort of demon trap in case anyone tried to steal the Book of Shadows again. Will had thought he’d lost his mind, stating it was dangerous and likely to kill someone. Liam, as sure as ever, disagreed, stating that since the attic door was closed, only a demon could get in and be trapped. 

Well, Killian thought as they rolled up to their house and found the front door wide open, they were about to find out which brother was right.

As soon as they walked in, Killian cursed, “Blood hell.” It was freezing! Worse even than outside. He made his way over to the thermostat, “Who turned the bloody AC on?”

“Probably the same person who opened all the windows,” Will snipped, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. “What demon does this, huh, Liam?”

“Come on!” Liam said in a rush, taking the stairs at a run. “We’re about to find out.”

Killian followed next, racing up the stairs right behind his brother. Maybe there was a demon who liked it better cold, or maybe this time it was a demon and a human after them, or--”Emma!”

The door to the attic was wide open and laying on the floor, unconscious and surrounded by crystals was his Swan. He lunged forward, but was yanked back by Liam. “Killian, wait--”

“Get off,” he pulled himself free, “she’s hurt!” Falling to his knees at her side, Killian carefully rolled her onto her back and checked her pulse. “Swan? Swan, can you hear me?”  

She grumbled something incoherent. Her eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. “Killian?” She murmured, her head rolling towards his direction.

Killian pressed his hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her cheek bone. “Shh, Swan, it’s alright. I’m here.”  Killian realized his hand was shaking and tried to keep it steady. “Can you open your eyes for me Swan?”

Green eyes flickered open, first focusing on him and then all around as she took in her surroundings, “What--”

“What are you doing here?” Liam asked, his voice rough and his hands up, ready to use his power. 

“I was,” Emma tried to sit up, but then her eyes rolled back into her head. 

“Here, Swan,” Killian shushed her again and pulled her head into his lap. “Take it slow.”

Emma looked up at him, her skin pale but her eyes bright. Quietly, just for his ears, she said, “Thank you.” Killian’s heart stuttered against his rib cage and the ability to breathe escaped him. 

After another moment, Emma kept her eyes on Killian but she started to speak. “I was coming by to check on you. I saw,” the took a moment to swallow thickly, “I saw the door open so I came--”

“You came to check on us,” he finished, looking towards Liam with a glare. Once Swan was safe and home he’d be having words with his older brother. His demon trap very nearly killed her!

Liam’s jaw tightened and he raised a brow in silent response, not a hint of apology in his eyes. It made Killian want to vomit with frustration. 

Shaking her head, Emma sat up and asked, “What happened?”  The color was returning to her cheeks, but Killian still made sure to keep a hand on her elbow as she rose to her feet. Emma looked at the ground and pointed to the crystals, “What’s that?”

Will sputtered, and stared at the crystals with his mouth agape. Killian could see him trying to come up with something--anything--that would explain what had happened, but absolutely nothing was coming to him. Killian felt the same. How were they supposed to explain how a few crystals electrocuted someone? Bloody hell, Killian thought, he wanted to strangle Liam right now.

“It’s a trap,” Liam said plainly, folding his arms over his chest and starring Emma right in the eye. Feeling his own jaw drop, Killian felt his stomach drop down to the floor. What the bloody hell?

“A trap,” Emma said slowly, her brows raising higher than Killian had ever seen. “For what?”

When no one, not even Liam, answered her, Emma shook her head and headed for the door, “I’m out of here.”

“Swan!” Killian called after her, glaring at his older brother as he went. Emma sure was quick though, and by the time he was properly able to catch up to her they were almost on the first floor again. “Swan, I am so sorry. Please forgive us.”

Emma merely snorted in response, so Killian continued, “Liam’s just been on edge lately, since the break in--”

“Like hell I have,” Liam snapped, his eyes alight with an indignant fire. Killian slapped his hands to his head, at a loss for words. He didn’t understand Liam right now, didn’t understand why he was just making everything worse when he was usually the one making things better.

“Do you know,” Emma spun around and pointed an accusatory finger at Liam, “that your trap is the equivalent of having a loaded shotgun with a trip wire behind your front door? That’s illegal!” Her voice rose with her anger. “I’m a detective, I could have you arrested!”

“Someone--someone turned on the air conditioning!” Will said suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Why,” he said slowly, “would someone do that?”

Emma looked at him like he grew a third head, “I don’t know, and right now I really don’t care.”

Liam watched, stony faced, as Emma turned and stormed out of the house. Killian turned to follow her, then paused and looked back at Liam, “Bad form, brother.”

“Swan, Swan please,” he caught her arm before she made it to the patio steps. “Emma,” that got her to pause and turn around. She kept her eyes averted but didn’t pull her hand away. “Look, Emma,” he sighed, “I am so, so sorry. Liam, he’s--well he’s been under a lot of pressure lately and--”

“Stop,” Emma shook her head and raised her eyes. “I’m just,” she paused, then gave his hand a small squeeze, “I’m glad it wasn’t you who did this to me.”

“Never Swan,” bringing her hand up to his mouth, Killian pressed a kiss to his knuckle. “I would never hurt you.”

I Emma I

Emma never thought that being hit with lightning could feel so good, but as soon as she had woken up she felt . . . different. Her mind was clear and she no longer felt like she was on fire. Something inside her felt settled, too, as if something had been knocked back into place. Something was different about Killian, too. She wasn’t sure what just yet, but when he’d kept her from falling back onto the floor, and how he’d cradled her in his lap so tenderly, like she was something precious, it had made her warm inside. Not hot, like she was boiling over, like she was used to, but warm. 

She didn’t give herself any time to reflect on that, though, because Liam was onto her and Glass was due to arrive. After assuring Killian that she was fine to drive home, Emma shimmered back down to her hovel in the Underworld. 

When she appeared next to her bed, she found someone sitting on it. “Hello dear,” the Seer greeted. Her red lips were stretched out into a fake smile, one Emma was all too familiar with. “Long time no see.”

“Regina,” Emma nodded her head in greeting. Pulling off her leather jacket, she asked, “What brings you here?”

“Your tonic, of course,” Regina motioned towards a chest at the end of the bed. “You were due for a refill, yes?”

Emma starred at the chest. She’d just been thinking of restocking her supplies earlier in the evening and somehow had already forgotten all about it. Shaking it off as a side effect of Liam’s demon trap, she said, “I am. Thank you.”

Standing up, Regina straightened her skirts and looked around the room, sneering at the overall dust and disarray. “I see you’ve been busy. How has your task been going?”

“It’d be going better if you hadn’t involved Glass.”

“Oh him?” Regina chuckled. She walked over to the chest and opened it, plucking out a single vial. “Worry not, dear. He’s dead.”

Emma’s brows rose, “Already?”

“Hmm, it seemed the Charmed Ones work quickly. They caught him in some demon trap and when he was about to spill the beans about you, well,” she looked at Emma over her shoulder and smiled wide, showing off her large white teeth, “Rumple had to end him.”

For a moment Emma wondered what Glass had done to piss the Seer off so badly that she’d set him up to die. She almost felt bad for him, she realized with a start.

“Are you sure you’re quite well, dear?” Regina turned to fully look at her, her brows furrowed and her lips pulled into a frown. “Headaches again? Well, no matter, a bit of tonic will take care of all that. Here,” she pressed the glass vial into Emma’s hands. “Good luck.” And with that she was gone.

Emma stared down at the small vial. The tonic was something she’d taken everyday for as long as she remembered. The Seer made it special for her, to keep her powers strong but under control, and to keep her head from boiling over. But for the first time in her entire memory, Emma felt wrong even just holding it. Something in the back of her mind made her hesitate. 

Uncorking the vial, Emma turned it over and watched as the amber liquid inside spilled out onto the floor.

[ad1thi]

meri pyaari tony

okay so @iam93percentstardust got me rly excited about this new au and even though im never going to write it i just wanna write a lil so enjoy everybody!! (hopefully this will clear up what i meant by not a happy ending but also not an unhappy ending)

//

The phone rings once, twice before it cuts off, and James’ back stiffens.

On the table, his mother’s fingers have stilled - frozen in the action of pushing the birthday card for his 10 year old nephew into an envelope.

The phone rings again, just twice, long enough to be unmistakable but too short to actually answer.

He looks out to the heaving rain, and without even thinking of reaching for an umbrella, he’s already sprinting across the grounds of his house, uncaring of how soaked he’s getting as he pushes himself up and over the gate of the neighbouring house and into the attic.

In the molten, rusty room, on top of an old suitcase that he’s seen Tony sit on countless times with his feet swinging off the ground - is a 6 year old boy; fiddling with the buttons of his jacket.

James runs his hands across his face, wiping off the water that’s collected in the creases of his forehead, and walks over to the kid.

He must look a state to the kid, sopping wet and uncharacteristically happy despite said dampness, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I’m really hungry,” he says to the boy, grinning, “do you think I can borrow one of your fingers to eat?”

Instinctively, the boy puts his hands behind his back, shaking his head fervently and James pouts, “not even the one? You have 10!”

The kid is saved from answering from a call of “Peter!” ringing outside the attic, and James turns, watching Tony fumble with closing an umbrella and he pushes into the attic.

Its a scene that James has imagined a thousand times over, watching Tony meet him in the attic where their childhood selves because friends all those years ago - and yet his imagination somehow didn’t do justice to the scene in front of him.

It takes Tony a couple of seconds to realise that James is there, and his face splits into a hesitant smile thats over-run with a frown when the kid barrels into his leg.

Tony runs his finger through the kid’s hair, “go find your Papa Peter - I’ll be down in a couple of seconds”

He waits until the kid’s disappeared down the stairs to turn back to James, “so, are you guys bestfriends yet?”

“No,” James says, smiling that private smile he’d reserved for Tony, “but you know me - I grow on people”

“Its good to see you Rhodey,” Tony says, and its only the fact that he’s carrying his bodyweight in water while Tony is wearing an expensive suit that keeps him from crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Tony.

“I forget,” Tony says, settling down on the suitcase his son vacated, “was it 2 rings or 3 rings? Our emergency code?”

“2,” Rhodey says, lifting up his fingers, “but then again - everything was an emergency for you so we never had any other code”

“Dad told me you’d stopped by,” Tony says, “didn’t realise you cared so much about this old dump”

Rhodey chooses not to answer that, “So you’re finally taking Major Stark to your house huh? Took you long enough”

“I know,” Tony huffs, “we’ll be at each other’s throats by the end of the week, but what can you do?”

Tony gestures around the attic vaguely, “I wanted to give Peter a chance to see this house before he sold it though - let him see where his Dad grew up”

“Peter?” Rhodey raises an eyebrow, “like Peter Pan? And here I thought your child would have one of those weird names with an unnecessarily pretentious pronunciation”

Tony raises his hand to swat at Rhodey, and for a second its just like old times.

Rhodey settles down next to him, shoving him with his hip until Tony shifts enough to make space on the suitcase for him.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” Rhodey says softly, “I’ve imagined it 1000 times over. ‘Course, in my version you were in distinctly less clothing, on your knees begging for forgiveness while an epic revenge tune played in the background”

Tony chuckles, eyes crinkling into familiar crow’s feet, and Rhodey thinks that for all the years he spent hating Tony - nothing can compare to the decades he spent loving him.

“So, New York Best Seller Writer huh? You finally did it Rhodey,” Tony leans in with a conspiratorial look on his face, “I walked out on you way too early”

you shouldn’t have walked out on me at all, Rhodey thinks, but this isn’t the right time for that conversation.

(he wonders if there ever will be a right time for that conversation)

Instead, Rhodey asks, “have you read any of them?” and Tony scoffs, “have you met me?”

“I can barely get through the first couple of pages of essential stuff like manuals, do I look like I can read?”

“That being said,” Tony says, “with a cover that says The Wild Washerwoman will wash you away, and - fuck what was the other one?” he scrunches up his nose in thought, “Tricycle - it will puncture your life, how could I resist?”

It warms something dead inside Rhodey that Tony reads his books, that Tony knows them well enough to recite the gaudy catchphrases his PR team used to sell them.

“Yuck man,” Tony says, “honestly how far have you fallen for a couple of sales. I gotta say though, extremely entertaining”

“Yeah well,” Rhodey shrugs, “horror is easy. I’ve been trying to write a love story for the past three years now and I’m not sure how to end it”

the why goes unspoken, hanging in the air and making the room thick with tension.

Tony reaches out and cups his cheek, and it takes everything in Rhodey to not lean into it.

“you’ll finish it,” Tony says softly, “You’re my Rhodey - ‘course you’ll finish it”

Rhodey pushes off his seat suddenly, making it half way to the door before he remembers to turn around and tell Tony to “stay put, don’t move I’ll be right back”

And he runs through the rain again, ignoring the shouts of his father and his manager to grab the manuscript on his bed.

He pushes it under his jacket roughly and runs back, where Tony is still sitting on the old suitcase - legs dangling just above the floor.

He puts the manuscript in between his hands, and says in one short breath, “read it”

and so Tony does - though he does flip through large portions of the book and crucial plot points.

Its okay though, because Tony lived through those moments, so he’s allowed to embellish and skip to the end.

When he flips the last page and looks back up at Rhodey, there’s tears in his eyes - but Rhodey’s known him long enough to know that these are happy tears

“This is your version Rhodeybear,” Tony says, “mine would be a little different”

Rhodey shrugs delicately, thinking about the night he tore through 10 pages trying to get that final last first kiss right, “a happy ending sells right? Why - what would be different in your version?”

“Does it matter?” Tony’s voice is wet, “I like your version better”

“But you found your Mr Right,” Rhodey says matter of factly, and Tony just shakes his head, “more like Mr Right place right time”

“But,”  Tony wipes away the stray tear on his cheek, “he gave me Peter so I can’t complain. You should see me as a dad platypus, it’s like I was made for this role. Being a dad, thats the one thing I’m not a disaster at”

Tony holds out the manuscript, but Rhodey pushes it back gently shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone else reading this. Not my manager, not your husband, nobody else. The story in those pages, that’s ours, just ours.”

Tony leans up and presses a soft kiss on Rhodey’s cheek, featherlight but its what makes Rhodey reach out and say.

“I can still take you away if you want. Just say the word and I’ll carry you over my shoulder - away from all of this”

Tony opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by Peter barrelling in, making grabby arms at his father.

Tony hefts up his son, arm caught around Peter’s waist and he looks at Rhodey with a mixture of nostalgia and regret, “I think I might be a bit too heavy for you now honeybear”

Tony leans in and rubs his nose against Peter’s cheek and in Rhodey’s mind, he’s right there with Tony - arms around the two most important boys in his life.

But in reality, there’s a distance between them, a space that try as he might, Rhodey can’t cross.

For the first time in almost 5 years, that doesn’t make him sad anymore.

you should see me as a dad platypus, Tony had said, and Rhodey’s seeing it now.

Oddly, it doesn’t hurt quite as much as he always thought it would.

“We have a party to get to right?” Tony says finally, setting Peter down so that they can walk down the stairs, “your nephew’s 10th birthday is it?”

The rain hasn’t let up, but in all fairness to his family - neither has the party because Rhodey and Tony make their way down to see a gaggle of uncles and aunts dancing in the grounds anyway, music coming from a speaker hidden away safely from the porch.

Peter runs across the field to a man with blue eyes and blond hair, who instantly bend down and picks him up - spinning him around and smiling when Peter shrieks about how wet he’s getting.

“One dance?” Rhodey asks, extending his hand out to Tony, “for old time’s sake?”

The look that Tony sends his way cannot be described as anything but pure adoration when he accepts Rhodey’s hand, giggling when Rhodey uses the momentum to pull him in close to his chest and snag an arm around his waist.

He’s consciously aware of the weight of the metal band around Tony’s finger pressing into his as they sway to the music, but it doesn’t bother him anymore.

To the rest of the world, he’s always be a Mr someone - but to Rhodey, he has and forever will be, his very first love, Tony.

Fin

[fanfoolishness]

Kitchen Confidential

(Steven Universe fic for @fermented-writers-block, who suggested Lars baking for the Off Colors and reflecting on how he’s changed.  I added some Steven angst because why not!  Lars & Steven, set near Steven Universe: Future.)

Lars meditates on the strange turns his life has taken, while tackling a complicated recipe and even more complicated questions from Steven.

***

Lars stepped into the home, setting down the bags of groceries he’d brought from Beach City.  They were heavy, but he was starting to get the hang of making those weird pink portals.  It sure made grocery shopping a lot easier.

The house was quiet.  He remembered Fluorite had mentioned earlier that she and the Rutile Twins were going to to the west end of Little Homeworld to help with some of the construction.  Padparadscha had probably tagged along out of curiosity.  He wasn’t sure where Rhodanite was, but she’d been hanging out a lot with Garnet lately.  They’d be back soon enough.

That was fine.  He loved living with the other Off Colors, but sometimes he missed shutting himself up in his old room in his parents’ attic and being alone with his thoughts.

That reminded him.  It was what, Wednesday?  He’d have to swing over to Mom and Dad’s tomorrow for their weekly board game night.  Sometimes Steven came.  Usually Sadie made it, and sometimes Buck, Jenny and Sour Cream.  Occasionally they brought the board games here so that Fluorite and the other Off Colors could fit and join in.  It was usually pretty fun unless Lars lost.  They’d all learned the hard way that Risk wasn’t fun for anybody.

Lars scanned the kitchen, making sure he had the right pans out.  Theirs was the only house in Little Homeworld with a full kitchen, sink and oven.  Steven had insisted on it, and Lars had had to admit it had been a good idea.  Even if he didn’t need to eat, he still liked the baking.

He pulled out the ingredients.  Walnuts, eggs, milk, yogurt.  He rummaged in the cupboard for the staples he already had, the sugar, lemons, oil.  He hauled out the butter from the fridge and set it out to soften.  

His hands moved swiftly, securely, forming the dough.  He knew you could get phyllo dough pre-made, and sure, he’d used it before.  But there was something so damn satisfying about making it from scratch.  He knew it wasn’t necessary.  But he liked doing it anyway.

Lars hummed one of Sadie’s new songs as he waited for the dough to rest and started preheating the oven.  She was so good.  He’d always known she could sing, but Sadie Killer and the Suspects were probably the best thing to ever happen to Beach City.  Grinning, he made a mental note to see if she wanted to come over after rehearsal tonight. 

He started dividing the dough into tiny balls, rolling them out in round one.  Once he’d rolled out everything, he turned to the hard work of rolling them out a second time, making them as thin as possible. He remembered when he’d been scared of this part.  Yeah, phyllo was fiddly.  But scarier than dying on an alien homeworld or stealing a spaceship? He snickered at the idea.

Thin leaves of dough, walnuts, melted butter.  He inserted the tray into the oven and set about cleaning the kitchen, humming all the while.  He started on the syrup.

There was a knock at the door.  “Come in,” Lars called.  

“Hey, Lars,” said Steven, heading into the kitchen.  He was hard to miss in that pink jacket.  “It smells awesome in here.  I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hi.”

“Did you wanna stay?” asked Lars.  “This has to cool for a couple hours after I bring it out of the oven, but I don’t have anything going on for a while today if you’re free.”  

Steven took a seat at the kitchen table.  “Sure!  I just got back from Homeworld and it’s nice to be around someone who isn’t a Diamond trying to smother me with affection.”

“Those giant ladies are like the grandmas to end all grandmas,” said Lars sagely.  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, my grandma’s awesome, but I think she’ll always treat me like a little kid.”

“Exactly,” sighed Steven.  He looked tired, with faint circles under his eyes. Lars frowned.

“Hey… you okay, man?”

“Me?  Yeah, no, I’m fine,” said Steven hurriedly, rubbing the back of his neck.  “How about you?  It’s been a little while.  Are you still enjoying living with the Off Colors?”

The timer went off and Lars pulled out his pan after putting on some oven mitts.  He set the pan on top of the oven and carefully poured the syrup over the crisp, golden dough.  It smelled insanely good.

“Yeah,” said Lars, pulling off his oven mitts and taking a seat beside Steven.  “We just get each other, you know?  Besides, I already knew they’d be good roommates.  We did great on the journey back to Earth.”

“Do you miss space?” Steven asked thoughtfully.  “Do you ever want to go back?  You’ve still got the ship.”

“I dunno,” said Lars.  He pursed his lips, thinking.  “When I was out there, I just wanted to get home.  Now that I’m here, I’ve got a lot of other things going on.  I mean, I’d hate to leave Sadie again.  Not to mention my parents and my friends.  I haven’t ruled it out, though.”  He looked down at his hands, pale pink, smooth, unscarred.  “I mean, I have time, don’t I?”

“Lars?” asked Steven, leaning his chin on his hands and looking worried.  “Do you ever get… scared about the future?”

“Sometimes,” said Lars.  He draped an arm over his seat back, staring up at the ceiling.  “I mean, we don’t really know what’s going to happen, right?  I died already and now I’m magic.   You’re half-magic but it’s serious half-magic.  Like, are we ever gonna be normal?  Are we gonna outlive everyone?  Of course I wonder about it.”

Steven was quiet, staring hard at the table.  He swallowed.

Lars shrugged.  “I dunno.  It’s scary, but… I’m not scared anymore?  Does that make sense?”

Steven reached out, placing a familiar high-five square on Lars’ chest.  He looked up at Lars with wide eyes.  “Yeah.  I think it does.”

Lars smiled at him, returning the high-five.  “Dude, you ever want to talk… you know where to find me.”

Steven settled back in his chair, putting his hands in his pockets and smiling.  “Thanks, Lars.”

“Now, come on.  You wanna play some video games while we wait for the baklava to cool?”

“Sure, but… Baklava?!” Steven said in surprise.  “I thought it used to scare you.  Isn’t it supposed to be really hard to make?”

Lars winked at him.  “Captain Lars kicks baklava’s ass, Steven.  I make it all the time now.”

Steven grinned at him, his eyes bright.  “You know, I’m really proud of you, Lars.”

“Come on, don’t make it weird.”

“Okay, okay, okay…”

[lefaystrent]

LeFay’s Masterlist

Here’s a list of all of my Sanders Sides stories. There’s a lot down there. Lots of pairings, lots of genres. Don’t get lost.

ONE-SHOTS 

20biteen??? – Patton’s really confused and Logan’s just trying to make a sandwich.

A demon? In my attic? More likely than you think --  “Well that’s what happens when your dad asks you to clean the attic and it’s filled with a bunch of junk from his wiccan days,” Virgil explained, though from the demon’s pinched expression the explanation left a lot to be desired.

A Dire Situation -  Logan tries not to make a single move or sound. His whole body coils tight with tension, knowing that the animal can strike at any moment. (additional parts can be found here)

A Storm Rolled into Town -  It’s not like Virgil meant to become famous anyway. It just sorta happened. And now he’s shopping in some small-town mom-and-pop store on a weekday morning. Despite wearing the hood of his jacket up and perhaps looking the more conspicuous for it, he can sense that someone somewhere in this store is watching him.

Ashes –Three months ago, Roman returned home to find the house that he shared with his younger brothers up in flames.

Baby you’re a Firework - “Patton is MY best friend!” you screamed, and then you looked to me with those eyes. How else was I supposed to react other than to tell you that we would be together forever? Logicality

Beneath the Boughs –The feeling of tender fingertips tracing from his jaw to his temple made him want to run through fields, but he wouldn’t move an inch away from this spot for anything in the world. Royality

Curiosity – Deceit’s mission to annoy Logan somehow involves sharing a bed with him and refusing to leave. Logan doesn’t really mind. Loceit

Death of a Bachelor - Virgil invites a bunch of billionaires to his fake wedding with his roommate, Logan. He doesn’t expect one of them to actually agree to go. 

Dino – Patton visits his local library one day and meets the librarian Logan, a man who loves dinosaurs.

Down by the Pier – Patton lives by the ocean. He likes to go sit out on the pier because the view is sweet but the company is even sweeter. Moxiety

Every Friday Night – “There’s a cat? In the sink?” Virgil said. platonic LAMP

Existentialism – Patton is a demon and really bad at it.

Five Times – There were five times that Virgil’s path crossed with Logan Sanders. Each time memorable, each time helping to shape Virgil into the kind of person he wants to be. platonic Analogical

Flutter and Fall – Virgil doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he wonders if you can fall in love with a moment. Prinxiety

Happy Birthday, Virgil – Logan tends to take things literally.

Heartbeat – Roman’s out on the hunt for prey. He gets more than he bargained for.

Heartbeat AU – More info on the story.

Hello Mr. Spider -  He’s heard the screams of people whenever they lay eyes on him. They take one look at him, this monstrous being with too many limbs and eyes, and they quiver in fear and tears. He doesn’t blame them. He hides himself away, hoping to never hear those horrified screams. Moxiety

Hello Again -  Humans trespassed into the church occasionally. Some during the day, most of them at night. Never did humans come two nights in a row. Moxiety (Sequel to “Hello Mr. Spider”)

Hold On -  He felt someone grip the sleeve of his shirt. Logan looked to his side where Deceit stood, holding onto him. platonic Loceit

How to be a Good Person - “There’s an unconscious man in my flowerbed. What should I do with him?” Dee should be used to getting phone calls from his brother needing help. brotherly Moceit

I got to pet the dog -  Patton gets distracted easily. Virgil doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s supposed to be working.

I met God last night - Predictably, Patton looked up to stare at Virgil. He set aside his scrapbook, clasped his hands together, and said, “Okay, I’m listening.” platonic Moxiety

I wanna intimi(date) you — Virgil teaches Patton to be more intimidating. It doesn’t go very well.

In a magical kingdom far away… —  The evil Lord Of Logic descends on the land, forcing all it touches to obey the laws of physics.

It’s hot – Virgil won’t take off the jacket.

Love Isn’t Blind – Patton notices a lot more than what people think he does.

Never Too Old – Patton worked as a manager at a toy store in the mall. Lately, the employees were noticing a reoccurring customer. Well, if you could call him a customer. He never actually bought anything. platonic Moxiety

Picture That –  “What are you doing?” Patton says between a flurry of giggles. He lifts the book he’d been reading to half hide his face. Roman dances around him snapping pictures as if Patton is a model. Royality

Piggyback – It’s late, and Patton’s falling asleep on the couch. Virgil’s not used to being the responsible one. Moxiety

Potatoes – Virgil has worries for days, but there’s only one thing that truly scares him. Moxiety

Rewrite – So here Roman is, lying by the sidewalk, very much not okay. Not because the local squirrels ostracized him, and not because he’d tripped or some such unfortunate mishap. No, he just has a lot on his mind. Prinxiety

Ribbit – Two lab partners and one dead frog do not make for the most romantic atmosphere but Roman tries. Logince

Roamin’ Nights -  Not that anyone’s looking right now, but Virgil’s glad that it’s dark in the kitchen, lest the color in his cheeks show. Roman’s not usually this affectionate with Virgil. Makes him wonder if he even realizes that this is Virgil he’s basically trying to use as a pillow. Prinxiety

Round and round we go – Logan stood there long after the commotion began outside, the one where everyone realized what had happened and were running to help and call an ambulance.

Sacrificial rituals and other fun activities – Virgil was a mage—one of the best. He’d seen a lot of things, but a handsome man chained up in the middle of a field? Even he had to take a moment. Prinxiety

Shark Attack! -  “I could be wrong here, but I’m pretty sure sharks don’t attack their victims with hugs.” platonic Moxiety

Sicky Icky – Most people assumed Roman would eat up all the attention he could get even when sick. They’d expect loud dramatics and Roman acting like he was dying every minute of it. That’s not how he was at all. Logince

Side-by-side – Virgil’s tired. Moxiety

So help me, I’m not moving from this spot – Virgil has the day off from work and chooses to spend it in true Virgil style. Queer platonic LAMP

Soft Prinxiety – Literally just a softy prinxiety scene. Prinxiety

Some Days – Some days are better than others, and some aren’t. These are Virgil’s days in the mindscape.

Someday I’ll find my way home -  Love cut deep and left scars on the heart. The heart never quite beat the same way again afterward. Analogical

Supposed to be – People get locked into a certain kind of perspective and decide what kind of person you’re supposed to be. Patton is frustrated.

Take Over the World - There’s not much else to do in the Mindscape for Deceit and the Duke.

That one time Deceit played hero in the mindscape – Deceit goes to the common rooms to find that everyone…is acting too much like themselves.

The Hug Booth -  In Patton’s free time, he had a booth set up somewhere on campus and he’d go sit there. The booth advertised ‘free hugs’.

The Ties that Bind – Everyone has a soulmate. Even the ones who probably shouldn’t. Logicality

This is the police! – “This is the police! Open up! Tell me something about yourself, don’t be afraid.” Prinxiety

Ties - Roman and Patton try to persuade Logan to wear a bow tie. Logan is uncooperative. romantic LAMP

Trances – The sides go into trance-like states sometimes.

Trouble in Tiny Town -  Logan is six inches tall. And somehow the human is the one cowering in fear.

Useless gays are useless – Patton is shirtless and Roman and Virgil are very, very gay. Roman/Patton/Virgil

Stil Gay -  Roman and Virgil are still thirsty gays, and Patton is a tall drink of water. One night of tv watching with his roommates leads to none of them paying attention to the tv. Roman/Patton/Virgil (Sequel to “Useless gays are useless”)

Wake up call -  There’s a muffled siren blaring from outside somewhere. He can feel the time slipping between his fingers.

We are family~ - “Patton,” Logan called. He stood in the doorway, stern-faced for a moment before slumping forward with a pout. “I require physical affection.” platonic LAMP

MULTI-CHAPS

Analogince - What started as a list of headcanons became a story of how three men fell together. part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Dog Days – In the midst of grieving for his beloved pet, comfort comes to Thomas in a curiously small form. platonic LAMP/Thomas, borrower!sides 

If you have nightmares, we’ll dance on the bed - Fae thrived on chaos and the fear that came with it. Well, most of them anyway. Virgil never really shared that sentiment. (Or alternatively, the story of how Virgil loves humans so much that he makes stupid decisions because of it, like save princes from attempted assassinations.)

Kid!Logan AU – Logan somehow finds himself back in time, waking up in his eleven-year old body.

Reverse Kid!Logan AU –  Roman just wanted a normal babysitting job. Now he’s caught up in debunking why he sees five-year-old Logan Sanders as if he were a grown man. part one , part two

Lifeline – Long ago, when his sides first started showing up, Thomas had pondered long and hard about reality versus imagination. But this? It became more apparent that Patton was carding his hand through Thomas’s hair. It was as if any of his friends were doing it, so tangible it was. Tangible in a way that shouldn’t be possible. platonic LAMP/Thomas

Nursing Home AU -  Patton had seen Virgil during the hiring process, and his personality didn’t seem like a … good fit. Too closed-off and kinda gruff, and probably not a good bedside manner, right? Plus there was that criminal record to consider… But he’s hired anyway, and Virgil joins the staff.

Psychic Therapist Virgil – Virgil’s not your run-of-the-mill therapist. part one, part two

Roses – The humans steer clear from the forest, warning their children with every generation, “Do not stray into those woods. They will devour you.” But it’s modern times now, fairy tales aren’t real, and Virgil and his friends have just moved into town and want to investigate the ‘haunted’ forest.

Variants – Patton was surprised by the mutant breaking into the jewelry store one night. And by break in, he meant that they seeped into shadows and appeared on the other side of the windows without breaking anything at all.

Weclome to the Neighborhood –Virgil’s really bad at peopling, or so his new neighbors find out. Prinxiety

Witch Way -  Virgil just wants to live a quiet life with his familiar, Logan. But we can’t always get what we want.

[standfordslostlawstudent]

The Witch Bernadette

Everyone in the town said that the house was haunted.

Weird noises, like chants and wails, could be heard coming from inside when you walked by late at night. Shadows passed by the windows day and night. A black cat was often seen perching on the dilapidated porch steps, only to disappear moments later. And someone once said that every full moon there was a woman that would appear in the attic window, peering out into the night.

Thomas Harrison didn’t believe that the house was haunted. One day when he was passing the house on his way home from school, he saw an old lady with long red hair standing in the yard, raking the leaves, and she waved at him. Thomas didn’t think she would live in the house if it was haunted.

When he got home and told his older brother, he was quickly informed that he had just interacted with a witch, and that she did indeed live in the haunted house.

Once he learned of the witch, it wasn’t long before the rest of the rumors reached him. She had lived in the house since she was a small girl, and she’d killed her parents and never married. Anyone who ventured into the house was never seen again. She wore cloaks and crystals and raised chickens in her backyard to use for ritual sacrifices.

Thomas didn’t believe it. But sometimes he got nervous when he walked by the house, so he’d quicken his pace and try not to look at it.

On the way to the bus stop one morning, a group of boys from Thomas’s class were huddled by the house’s front gate. Thomas paused as he approached them, and he realized that the three boys had cornered a black cat against the fence. It was hissing and its hair was raised as the boys laughed and threw pebbles at it. Thomas was angry, and seconds away from telling them to knock it off, when the front door of the haunted house burst open and the old woman with the long red hair appeared, waving a broom and screaming at the top of her lungs. The boys took off running, and the cat ran in the other direction, slipping into a gap between the fence and the gate and diving underneath the porch steps.  

Thomas stared after the cat, relieved that it was okay, and then looked at the woman in the doorway with the broom. She stared after the boys, and Thomas thought that she looked like she might be about to cry.

He thought about that a lot as the days wore on and Halloween approached. He wondered about the woman and her cat, all alone in the big old house, and he thought, witch or not, she was probably lonely.

His class in school was studying the season of harvest, as they were in the heart of it in October, and as a lesson in helping one another, everyone was to assist a family member or a neighbor in an autumnal chore. Qualifying tasks on the list were things like canning foods, harvesting crops, freezing vegetables, winterizing boats, yards, lawn mowers and campers, and raking leaves. Most of his classmates were counting the Saturday family chores that they would have been forced to do anyway as their part of the project, and some had asked to help their grandparents with canning activities. Thomas did those things every year with his mother, but he decided that he wanted to do something more.

That Saturday, he pulled his dad’s yard rake out of the back shed and walked down the street to the haunted house on the corner. The closer he got the more nervous he became, but he soldiered on until he reached the gate. The yard was empty, and the house appeared dark. Thomas carefully inspected all the of the windows for spooky shadows, but nothing appeared and no one seemed to be lurking, so he opened the gate. He slipped inside and latched it carefully behind him. When nothing burst out of the house to eat him, he took a deep breath and went to work on the leaves.

It was a good while before he noticed her. He had several leaf piles across the yard – which was much bigger than he had realized – and his arms were getting sore when he realized the woman was sitting on the porch step, watching him.

“Hello there,” she said. Her voice was gentle and low, and not at all how he thought a witch would sound. “I’m Bernadette Stenberg. What is your name?”

Thomas wondered how long she’d been there, and how she’d silently appeared. “Thomas Harrison.”

“Nice to meet you, Thomas. May I ask why you’re raking my leaves?”

Thomas looked around at the leaf piles, suddenly worried he had done something wrong. “Um, it’s a school assignment... we’re supposed to help a friend or a neighbor with fall projects... I should have asked permission, I’m sorry...”

“No, no, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” Bernadette smiled at him. “I’m very grateful. There are a lot of leaves and my back isn’t what it used to be. Perhaps I could help you bag them up though, if you wouldn’t mind the extra hand.”

Thomas shook his head and Bernadette got to her feet. He was startled to realize she was wearing jeans, a sweater, and a jacket, and not a cloak at all. She went into the house for a moment, then came back with a box of garbage bags, and the two of them set out to bag up the piles of leaves.  

When they were finished and the bags were sitting in a pile at the curb, Bernadette placed her hands on her hips and looked at him. “Could I interest you in a cup of hot chocolate to thank you for your work? That is, if your parents wouldn’t mind.”

Thomas hesitated, looking up at the big old house. He didn’t think his parents would mind, but he was slightly concerned that he did. Nevertheless, he swallowed back his fear and nodded, leaning his rake against the fence.

Bernadette held the door open for him. The black cat leapt onto the porch and scurried into the house ahead of him. A deep, bone-chilling howl sounded from deep in the house, and Thomas froze, regret clawing up his throat.

“Muninn, stille!” Bernadette called out calmly, as though she always spoke in tongues. The throaty wail died, followed by a little whimper that Thomas recognized as a dog. “My apologies, Thomas, Muninn isn’t used to company, and to be frank, he’s just plain rude.”

Thomas followed Bernadette down the hall into the kitchen at the back of the house. The floors were wooden and shiny, and there were no cobwebs or chicken bones littering the corners. There were sunflowers in a vase on the kitchen table, and the cabinets were white with little brass knobs. It smelled faintly of cinnamon and cloves. A big dog crate was nestled in the corner, containing a beast so dark and ominous Thomas nearly jumped. It took a second to realize that the creature wasn’t a bear, but simply a large dog with shaggy black hair and a violently wagging tail.

“Now Muninn, this is Thomas, and you must be nice to him. Thomas, don’t mind Muninn. I’ll leave him in his cage until you both get used to each other. Muninn is quite a presence, to say the least. Now, do you take marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”

Thomas nodded absently as he stared at the dog, then slowly took in the rest of the room. It wasn’t at all as others had described it, like the set of the Addam’s Family. It was a nice home.

“I have some cookie dough I could bake for us. Are you partial to chocolate chip?”

Thomas watched as Bernadette opened the freezer and removed a container of cookie dough balls. “You’re not a witch at all, are you?”

Bernadette looked at him in surprise, and for an instant Thomas thought she might be angry. Instead, she burst out laughing. “A witch? You thought I was a witch?”

Thomas shrugged.

“You thought I was a witch, and yet you decided to rake my leaves? Well now, that either makes you crazy, or very, very brave.” Bernadette hit some buttons on the oven and then slid her jacket off. Her long hair was tied in a braid that stretched all the way down her back, and though it was mostly very bright red, there were a few wisps of gray around her temples. “I assure you, I am not a witch. I do, however, appreciate your bravery.”

“I didn’t really think you were a witch.” The kitchen was warm, and Thomas unzipped his coat. “It’s just everyone in town said you were, and there was the howling and the weird chanting...”

“All Muninn’s fault.” Bernadette busily filled the tea kettle with water and started the stove, then dished out the cookie dough onto a baking sheet. “He’s a howler, as you already know. He also only speaks Norwegian.”

Thomas laughed.

“I’m quite serious. I went to Oslo to buy him. He was trained to respond to Norwegian commands, so that is how I speak to him. I would guess my neighbors do not know what they’re hearing.” Bernadette pulled a chair out from the table and motioned him toward it. “Please, have a seat.” Thomas sat in the chair and Bernadette handed him a mug. She sat across from him, opened a jar on the table, and scooped them each a generous helping of hot chocolate powder. “What else do they say about me?”

Thomas shrugged, unsure he wanted to share what else was said. “I mean, there’s the black cat.”

“Huginn.” Bernadette nodded and chuckled to herself. “I seem to remember a time when you saved his life.”

“No, I didn’t.” Thomas was confused.

“Well, it looked like you were about to. Those other boys were mistreating poor little Huginn, and I think if I hadn’t intervened, you would have let them have it.”

Thomas nodded. “They were being mean.”

“Thank you for watching out for my cat.” The tea kettle whistled and the oven beeped. Bernadette turned off the burner and moved the tea kettle, then whisked the baking sheet into the oven. She pulled a bag of marshmallows from a cupboard and turned to fill his mug from the kettle. “Now then, Thomas, what made you decide that I wasn’t a witch?”

Thomas took the spoon she offered him and carefully stirred his hot chocolate. “I don’t know.”

“What made you decide to rake my leaves? No one else thought of such a thing.”

Thomas took a couple of marshmallows from the bag and plunked them into his mug. He watched them bob in the steaming liquid and hoped she would forget her question, but when he risked a glance toward her, she raised her eyebrows expectantly. He looked back into the mug. “I don’t know. I just thought maybe you might like someone to rake your leaves.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe you don’t have anyone to help you, and maybe you’re a little bit lonely.” Thomas shrugged and risked a sip of hot chocolate. It scalded his mouth and he immediately lost half his taste buds, but it was worth it to have something occupy his mouth.  

He glanced at Bernadette and regretted it. Her eyes were filled with tears as she gazed out the window above the kitchen sink. Huginn leapt onto the table and Bernadette flinched. She whisked a finger at her eyes and promptly scooped the cat into her lap. “Now, now, Huginn, you know better.”

“I didn’t mean to –” Thomas began.

“No, no. You’re quite right, young man. I am very lonely sometimes. Huginn and Muninn help, but it’s not quite the same. The people in this town... they’re quick to believe rumors and jump to conclusions. I’ve lived here all my life and known most of the people here since before they were born, but no one really makes an effort to even talk to me. I guess maybe they’ve always believed that witch story. But not you.” Bernadette smiled at him, then placed the cat on the floor and moved toward the oven as it let out a beep. “Not Thomas Harrison, the brave leaf raker.”

Thomas laughed and risked another sip of hot chocolate, this one burning a little less. He decided that Bernadette was pretty nice, and her cookies smelled wonderful.  

They sat at the table for a long while. Thomas told Bernadette all about his family, his school, and the baseball camp he’d gone to over the summer. Bernadette told Thomas about how her parents had come to the United States from Norway, and how she spent every July there because it was a magical and beautiful land. Thomas played with Muninn and asked Bernadette a lot of questions about dogs, because when he turned ten he was allowed to get one, and that was only a year away. Bernadette asked him about his friends, and Thomas admitted that he didn’t really have any, because a lot of the boys in his class were just like the ones who wanted to hurt Huginn, and Thomas wasn’t like that at all.

“You should take great pride in that, Thomas.” Bernadette took the final sip of her hot chocolate and stood to put it in the sink. “Don’t ever think that gentleness makes you less. Will you promise me something?”

Thomas reached for a third cookie. “I don’t know, what is it?”

“Promise me that as you get older, you remember Huginn and how you didn’t want those boys to hurt him. That when you’re a grown up, and everyone around you wants to be mean and wants you to be mean, you’ll remember that you’re different from the rest of them.”

Thomas shrugged. “I guess.”

“And could you promise me one more thing?” Bernadette pushed her chair in and leaned against the back of it.

“Sure?”

“Promise you’ll come back some time for another hot chocolate? Muninn and I would enjoy your company.”

Thomas, mouth full of cookie, nodded.

Bernadette smiled and reached for his nearly-empty mug. “Now then, you’d best get going before your parents wonder where you are.”

Thomas waved at Muninn in his crate, affectionately stroked Huginn on the head, and zipped up his coat as Bernadette followed him down the hall. She wished him good day, thanked him again for the leaf raking, and waved as he closed her front gate behind him.

The sun was setting as he headed home, and he glanced back at the spooky house that everyone would go on to believe was haunted, with the peeling paint and the scary bellows that could be heard in the night. But Thomas would go on knowing that the house wasn’t haunted at all. It was warm and friendly and contained a dog, a cat, and a lady who baked delicious cookies.

And the next time that someone on the school bus talked about the witch in the haunted house, Thomas was going to tell them that she wasn’t a witch at all.

Bernadette was his friend.  

[thatfairyfangirl]

True Colors Chapter 31

“Oh Bucky, come here a moment would you?” Nana beckoned from the kitchen. You and Bucky had been training in the backyard. You traded each other confused glances as you can with paused to take a drink of water heading back to the house.

“What can I do for you Nana?” He asked toweling himself off.

“If you are going to be part of this family there a a few things you'll be needing to know.” she explained. Looking around the kitchen You realized she had lain out all the things for her homemade Apple pie. “Like the family Apple pie. Someone in the family will need to pass it on when I'm gone.”

“Nana you taught me how to make that when I was ten.” You chuckled as you got yourself a glass of water.

“Doll...be realistic.” Bucky joked as he wrapped his arms around you from behind kissing your cheek. “You're a terrible cook.”

“Oh don't even get me started… I don't think in all my life I ever saw anyone burn an empty pan before (y/n) came along.” You dropped your head shaking it in shame at the memory as the two laughed.

“Doll how did you manage that?”

“I- I don't even know.” You chuckled as you picked up a knife to cut the apples only to be shooed away from the food by Nana.

“Oh don't feel too badly. Your talents lie elsewhere.” She reassured you as she patted your cheek. This was all too surreal for you, you honestly couldn't recall the last time either your mom or nana being this supportive of you. You found yourself looking for the insults hidden in the conversation, but even then you could still see they were trying.

“THAT is true.” Bucky agreed as he chopped up the apples, having no real desire to learn but seeing that it meant something to her he thought it best to humor her. “Voice of an angel. I assume she gets that from her father?”

“Oh no. Dad was great with instruments and a wonderful teacher but he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.” You chuckled. “Mom was the vocalist.”

“I've got some home movies stashed in the attic if you are interested.” Your mom chimed in as she made her way into the kitchen to grab a soda.”

“Oh mom please no. Those are so embarrassing.” You begged as your phone chimed, telling you that you had yet another message from your label reminding you that you still had a music video to shoot.

“Oh I wasn't talking about the music.” Bucky rose a brow at Nanas comment before glancing back to his beloved with a questioning look on his face. You just shrugged, sure you had no idea what she was talking about, music had been your life ever since you were small. “She hasn't done it in years, but she used to be quite the dancer.”

You there your head back in laughter. “Nana I dance all the time. Its kinda part of my job.”

“Don't you remember mom?” Your mother asked her. “She was in that musical.”

“No not like that. Don't you remember when you used to come dancing with me?” Bucky looked between the family with a smile, happy to see the rupture that had been there for so many years had finally been mended.

“Oh! You mean dance night at the church! Do they still do that?” You asked with a smile, finding it nice to think of the fond memories of your youth.

“I never miss a week.” Nana answered with a proud smile as she slid the our into the oven. “In fact it's tonight.”

“Oh Nana I don't think it would be a good idea tonight.”

“What's dance night?” Bucky asked with a chuckle.

“Every week the church hosts this ballroom dance class slash social.” You explained. “We wouldn't be there to watch you and that would put you at too much risk sorry Nana but please no.”

“Sounds like a blast to me.” Bucky smiled to the old woman. “If she really has her heart set on going I can take get Doll.” He assured you as he rested his biopic hand over your hip pulling you into his side. “What do you say Nana? Would you be my date?”

~ ~ ~ ~

You weren't sure who you felt worse for, your mom and nana or the school of mutants you left them with to meet up with the team. But it had to be done. You and Bucky were called in to Germany and the school was the safest place you knew.

As you moved through the base like a rainbow whirlwind, ambushing the base in hopes to catch Schmidt before he had a chance to get a way you came across the one man you never dreamed of. He stood there frozen as he looked on you. The man you long ago thought dead. “Daddy?” You whispered before someone ordered him to shoot. You shook your head lightly. No. No way your own father would shoot his baby girl… “Daddy what's-”

BANG

Your world went dark as your suit stained red with your blood. “SPECTRUM!” Bucky shouted with wide eyes as he rushed to your side, looking up to see the man who shot you running in the other direction. His eyes narrowed, face hardening as he looked down the barrel of his gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet caught him in the side sending him to the ground as Bucky stood, storming to the agent, kicking him over so that he could face his death. Flashes of family photos in your living room flew in his mind as he saw who you inherited your eyes from.

“Buck.” You choked on the words as your side gushed blood. He curses lightly under his breath as he slammed the barrel into your father's temple to knock him out before lifting the both of you to rush you to the quinjet.

“Umm Frosty...that man's skull is not red.” Tony informed him as he rushed past him to get you to the med bay as fast as possible.

“Yeah I see that.” He replied as he dropped your long lost father. “Look familiar?” He asked as he broke into the med kits.

“Holy Sh-” Tony bit back the swear as everyone regrouped. “What happened to him?”

“He shot (Y/n).” Bucky answered as he tore open your uniform, to pack gauze on the bullet hole in your side. Just from where it was he could tell it missed anything important. So long as he could stop the bleeding soon it will be little more than a scar. But how that scar got there, he was sure that would haunt you.

~ ~ ~ ~

You sat up in your bed, pastel rainbow hair spilling in your eyes as, your shirt pulled up as your fingers traced lightly over the scar the bullet had left, knowing it will forever be there as a reminder to who your father really was. You drew in a sigh letting the firey pain shot up your side as you lowered your feet to the cold tile floor. Only hair fell in your eyes as your mind raced with the same question over and over. But how? You remembered burying him. You watched them lower his casket in the grave. But in a way it didn't matter how. He was here. He was in the basement. Next to Mike. “Time for a family reunion.” You muttered to yourself as you willed your body to stand. Every step was pain, burning in your side and agony in your soul.

“Doll?” Bucky rushed to your side like your knight in shining armor. “You should be in bed.” He said as he wrapped a supportive arm around you.

“This is more important.” You stated stubbornly as you took his arm to support yourself. “Help me downstairs.” You added with a groan as you felt the wound shoot jabs of pain through you.

~ ~ ~ ~

“I think you owe me an explanation.” You demanded as you looked down to your father sitting on the floor of his cell.

“Yeah Dad...what the hell?” Mike asked as he leaned against the bars to his own cell, power dampening collar blinking dully under his straight jacket. Normally you would be against such mutant treatment. But in his case you knew it was necessary. “Go on Dad. Tell her.”

“You shut up.” Bucky snapped pulling a gun out to point in Mike's direction. “Or I'll kill you myself.”

Your father's eyes closed in shame as he turned away. He drew in a deep breath as he stood, finding the strength to turn and face you. “I joined HYDRA the summer before I started college. I'm in their recruitment division. Your mother never even knew. But the thing about Hydra once you're in you don't get to leave.” He glanced up to Bucky. “You know that first hand don't you son.”

Bucky's face grew hard as his bionic fist clenched. “Don't call me that. Ever.”

“Is Mike my brother?” You asked, though somewhere deep down you already knew the answer.

He nodded gently. “The worst mistake I ever made. Hydra caught wind of mutants and wanted me to start recruiting them. When I figured out Mike was one I knew I had to get away from you guys. That wasn't the life I wanted for my baby girl.”

“You better shut up old man or Sin's going to get mad.” Mike warned With a demented growl.

“Who's going to tell her? You're never seeing the outside of this cell again. And neither am I.” Your father snapped back before reaching his hand out to you. “God I hope I didn't do any real damage to you back there. Are you alright baby girl? I'm so sorry. For everything.”

“I'll live.” You said flatly as he gripped your hand pulling you to him. “If your truly sorry then tell us who they sent to watch mom.”

“What? No They never bothered with your mother. As far as they are aware your relationship with her is too strained to use her as leverage against you.”

“What do they even want with me?” You asked, tears in your eyes. “I'm just a singer.”

“They gave up on mutant recruitment when they realized a human wouldn't be able to find them. But then you came along. A guiding star for all the mutants of the world. Red Skull wants you to corrupt mutant kind to Hydra.” His eyes welled With tears as he looked up to his daughter, so proud of what you became without him. “I'm so sorry sweetheart. If I could go back I would have done things worlds differently. Never give them what they want. Never stop being the amazing light you are.” He begged before grabbing Bucky's gun and pulling the trigger, splattering your brother on the wall before doing the same to himself, preferring death to what would happen if Hydra ever learned he lived and told. This was the only way he could truly protect you from himself. With a gasp of horror you buried yourself into Bucky as his blood and bits of brain sprayed you.

[backtothestart02]

25 Days of Westallen Fanfiction: Day 10 - Fallen For You

A/N: For @barryslightningrod on her bday! I hope you enjoy it, girl! I know you liked the FP!WA dynamic and the possibility that the FP timeline continued after our Barry left, so here’s if he hadn’t left and he’d lost all his memories from his original timeline but he was still more or less the same person and he and Iris still started dating. (Oh, and also Wally didn’t die.)

Enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Summary: 3x01 - Canon Divergent - Almost a year after Barry decided not to erase Flashpoint, he takes Iris out for her birthday.

...

Iris West sat at the small table by the window at Jitters and told herself to be patient.

It wasn’t something new, Barry being late. He always made up for it once he got there, and she was sure this time would be no different. She couldn’t help her fingers madly tapping on the table though, or her foot bouncing underneath it, one leg crossed over the other. She was excited. Today was her birthday – her first birthday since she and Barry had gotten together – and he’d told her he was planning something big.

She’d had to work, but she’d rushed home, put on a simple yet fashionable dress and the drop earrings he’d bought for her for Christmas, curled her hair, freshened her make-up, and sat herself down at the same table where she and Barry had their first official date. Since then she’d gone through two regular cups of coffee and a piece of coffee cake. She’d gone to the bathroom twice to make sure her lips were void of all crumbs and reapplied her lipstick. She couldn’t wait to stain his skin with her lip prints. It made him blush a bright pink, especially when she applied it to his forehead.

“Property of Iris West,” she told him the first time she did it. He blushed but did not deny it.

She let her mind wander now to help her with her impatience.

The beginning of her relationship with Barry had been complicated to say the least. He’d literally asked her out during their first meeting – and in the most adorable, nerdy way he possibly could. She’d had guys ask her out on the spot before, and it never made her cave. In fact, she’d started to think of particularly clever ways to reject them. But with Barry…she just couldn’t. And when she went to meet him for their date, she couldn’t stop smiling. And he was smiling right back at her. Her dad’s instant disgust at the idea hadn’t thwarted her in the slightest, and it obviously hadn’t change Barry’s mind either, which she loved.

Some guys got so intimidated by Joe West’s overprotective glare that they decided she wasn’t worth it. Not that it made any sense. She and her dad hadn’t spoken more than two words to each other for years. Over the last few months, Barry had made several attempts to mend that rift, which impressed her further, but for the time being he’d ceased. She was fine with that. It gave them more time to focus on each other, in particular for him to focus on her.

She wasn’t ashamed to admit it. She was a glutton for Barry Allen’s attention. He gave it easily, and she ate it right up. Despite the odd mess of him saying he was a speedster from another timeline, she had found herself drawn to Barry and never once feared that he was crazy. He had actually wound up saving her brother’s life. even if Wally had fallen into a coma for several months before coming to. Plus, in this other timeline the two of them had been in love. It wasn’t hard for her to imagine, since every minute she spent with him she was falling harder and harder.

After a series of crazy events spanning just the couple days after she met him, Barry Allen lost whatever memories he’d claimed to have before. She’d been so concerned for his well-being that she took him to the doctor and informed his parents. Aside from being a little out of it, nobody else appeared overly concerned. So she, along with Mr. Ramon, Dr. Snow, her brother, and herself swept it under the rug. It was not as if Barry could explain himself. He no longer remembered anything he’d told them before the incident that nearly took Wally’s life.

Sometimes it bothered her, what those first couple days all meant. But she still found him to be very similar to the person she’d just started to know. And she still felt a pull towards him. He was a little less confident than he’d been before, but after she hesitantly initiated a few dates – and their first kiss – his confidence grew until it was nearly boundless. He made her feel so alive and so wanted that she stopped thinking about those first couple days and what it all meant.

He had warned her what was happening before all the memories faded and told her he hoped she still felt the same about him when they finally went, because he was 100% certain he would still feel the same way about her. In every timeline, in every version of reality, of himself and her, he was positive he would love her and that they would belong together.

Quite a thing to say to a girl he’d just met. But she supposed for him, they hadn’t just met. They’d known each other for decades, had been best friends and then were on the brink of being lovers. And those precious memories had been on death’s door for him.

She remembered asking him why he’d want to lose those memories when he could keep them, and he’d told her it wasn’t that he wanted to lose them, but he was willing to sacrifice them if it meant keeping all that he’d gained – his parents, her, a life of peace and just being normal.

She didn’t know what he meant by all that, but he didn’t have time to explain – and maybe she wouldn’t have fully understood if he’d tried – before the memories disappeared entirely. He was a little panicky at first, because he couldn’t remember anything. Not his own name or who she was or what he was doing on the steps of a house he didn’t recognize. But after a few days, memories started to surface. He remembered everything he’d told her that had seemed strange. He remembered being a speedster, but he couldn’t remember why or how he’d been able to do those things. She’d reassured him that as long as he was okay now, they didn’t have to talk about it. He’d taken her up on that offer.

Now, eight months since the day he’d awkwardly shown up, Barry Allen was late to her birthday date. Or maybe she was early? It suddenly didn’t matter, because the door swung open, and in walked her boyfriend, looking nicer than usual and actually pretty nervous.

She waved to get his attention and the corner of his lips twitched in a smile.

What has gotten into him? She wondered, but stood up and joined him halfway across the shop anyway.

“Hey,” she murmured after pulling him down for a sweet birthday day kiss. “Nice of you to show up.”

He grimaced. “I deserve that. I’m sorry, Iris.”

“It’s okay. I was just teasing anyway.” Still holding onto his lapels, she pulled him down to her for another kiss. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She felt the tension leave his shoulders.

“I’m glad too,” he said, then pulled a small bouquet around from behind his back. It was filled with irises and some baby’s breath. The greenery fanned out the flowers in an attractive, beautiful way. “I know the irises are cheesy, but it felt fitting for your birthday.”

Her eyes sparkled as she took the bouquet from his hands. She lowered her face to inhale the scent and felt a warmth spread all the way to her toes at the sweet fragrance.

“Thank you, Barry,” she said when she lifted her head. “I love them.”

A smile spread across his face, his dimples making her weak in the knees as he offered his arm to her and they walked out of Jitters to stroll down the street.

“Where are we going?” she asked when they were halfway down the block. She didn’t really care all that much, but she was a little bit curious. “The park? The lake? Your new apartment?”

She heard his breath hitch when her voice lowered on the last suggestion. She loved when he got flustered, and he got especially flustered whenever she hinted at their sex life in even the slightest way, which often took place in his new apartment since he’d gotten it a month ago.

“Ah, none of the above actually,” he said.

“No?” She pouted.

“Don’t worry.” He grinned, fully recovered. “You’ll like it.”

She didn’t doubt it.

Barry hailed a cab, quietly gave instructions to the driver, and within a matter of minutes – which went by fast with Iris’ head on Barry’s shoulder in the back seat, their fingers intertwined – they’d arrived at their destination.

“What’s this?” she asked, but Barry only smiled in silence.

They stepped inside the average looking building downtown, only to ride the elevator up to the tenth floor and find themselves on a rooftop café overlooking the city and the lake in the distance.

Iris gasped.

“Barry.”

She turned to look at him, clutching at his jacket sleeve.

“You remembered.”

He shrugged innocently and nodded to the waiter who quickly guided them to their seats.

“Of course I remembered,” he said.

In an old journal of her mother’s she’d found in the attic in high school, there had been detailed the first date Francine had been on with Iris’ father, Joe West. Her father had never taken her, though she’d begged and pleaded. She hadn’t told him why the sudden interest, but he had probably suspected. Either that or he didn’t want to relive the memory of when he’d last been there, or a significant time in which he had.

“It’s too expensive, Iris,” he’d said as an excuse, but he’d never made an exception for any birthday or graduation, either from high school or college.

She gave up asking after a while, but apparently it was never far from her mind, because she’d offhandedly mentioned it to Barry on their first date – and he’d remembered.

“You’re a better man than my father is, Barry,” she said, lifting a glass of the white wine poured to toast to her marvelous boyfriend.

“How about we toast to you instead,” he suggested. “It is your birthday after all.”

She smirked. It was ever so Barry-like to avoid directly putting blame on Joe West for the estrangement between father and daughter. But he didn’t put it on her either, so she let it slide.

“All right, what about me, Barry Allen?” she teased, leaning in. “What’s so great about Iris West?”

She could think of a million things she was proud of about herself, but she liked to hear him flatter her, and she liked to reward him later for his efforts by pleasuring them both.

He smiled sensually, and she was instantly turned to goo.

“What’s not to like?” he asked. Lifting his own glass, he continued, “Iris West is beautiful, stunning, smart, talented, a vision in that creamy number she’s got on right now-” If she could blush, she would. “And I’m the luckiest man in the world to have fallen in love with her.”

Her heart nearly stopped. All the oxygen inside her instantly escaped her lungs.

“You… You love me?”

Because, yeah, it was the first time he’d said it.

He smiled softly at her.

“You don’t have to say it back, Iris. I’ve just been waiting to say it for a while, and I thought your birthday would be the perfect occasion.” He lifted his glass up further, intending to meet hers halfway, but hers lowered, and he frowned worriedly. “Iris? Is it…too soon? I didn’t mean to ruin-”

“Too soon?” she asked, shock and he couldn’t tell what else plain on her face. “It’s been eight months, Barry.”

He lowered his glass, unsure where this was going.

Iris set hers on the table and got to her feet, walking over to him and pulling him to his, or at least far enough so they were at eye-level.

“Iris, I-”

And she kissed him.

“I love you, too, Barry Allen.”

He melted, pulling her upright with him.

“Yeah?” He stroked her cheek.

She was dazzled by the green in his eyes and the tenderness in his touch. She was so, so in love.

“Yeah.”

They came together for another kiss and smiled shamelessly.

Iris heard people whispering for a nearby table, wondering if a proposal had just happened and unsure if they should clap – they hadn’t seen Barry going down on one knee or a ring being exchanged anywhere. So, she figured they should sit back down, let Barry finish with his toast and continue with their romantic dinner.

Besides, she was nowhere near ready to say yes to an engagement ring.

But a confession of love from the man she’d been falling for the past several months?

That was pretty much the perfect birthday gift.

Happy Birthday to me.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[infinitalia]

An Echo Of Eternity

Chapter Two | The Wrong World

Summary: After his brother’s death, Alfred is prepared to do anything to see him again- including defying his beliefs and hacking into a computer simulated world for the dead. His search leads him to his classmate Arthur, who has come here for unknown reasons and seems almost at home in this artificial afterlife. Reluctantly, Arthur agrees to help Alfred and try to work together. USUK.

Warnings/info: Black Mirror: San Junipero AU (you don’t need to have seen it), major character death, mental health issues.

(Previous chapter preview can be found on my blog under #an echo of eternity.)

Light vibrations and a faint hum drill softly through his dreams, snapping him awake far less gently than they should. He groans and rolls over under his covers, before panic sets in and he stomach does a somersault. Where is it? Is this its first round?

'Shit,' Arthur mutters ignoring the wave of dizziness from a head rush as he sits up and begins ruffling through the sheets, trying to find his phone. The damn alarm is only on vibrate- his idea, but certainly not by choice- which means he sleeps through it far more than he was planning to when he came up with the stupid plan. He has even taken to holding his phone at night, so it would buzz right up against his skin in the morning, but somehow the damn thing always manages to end up on the floor or at the bottom of his bed. Or even under the pillow that one time. He grits his teeth as his fingers brush against the phone, and he is mortified to find that this is in fact its third round.

God fucking dammit-

A few feet away, a handle bends downwards and the door creaks open quietly. Arthur squints into the dim and glares when he spots Peter's face through the crack.

Why didn't you wake me? he signs angrily.

Peter sticks his tongue out, smirking. 'I'm doing it now,' he whispers.

Arthur shakes his head with a derisive snort, making a big show of pretending to zip his lips. His brother rolls his eyes and disappears from the gap, and Arthur can faintly hear him skipping off down the hallway.

He can barely remember being as hyperactive in the morning as Peter is- after all, failing the alarm clock, he always has his little brother to rely on to wake him up.

He just wishes Peter would be quieter.

He only has about ten minutes to get ready before he and Peter must leave, and he spends at least half that time ensuring that he did successfully hide the PATCO equipment last night once he had finished using it. The likelihood of anyone, even Peter, going through his bedroom is slim- God, he really could keep absolutely anything in here and probably get away with it- but he has to make certain. His paranoia may not be as great as it was when he first started visiting San Junipero, but he is still keenly aware of the risks.

And the stakes are certainly higher now, he remembers with another groan. Fuck. Fuck it all.

He could have just said no. He liked Matthew, certainly, but… he really could have said no. Taken a step back, not have gotten involved. Hell, hadn't he almost managed to walk away? At least until Alfred Williams-Jones had gone and started crying. Then he'd essentially been doomed. God. He curses again. What the hell has he gotten himself into?

Arthur barely has enough time to wash his face, pull on a jumper, a pair of jeans and a jacket and then snatch some money off his desk before he is ushering Peter out of the house. Once on the path, his brother mockingly unzips his lips and smirks at Arthur.

'I win,' he says.

'The hell you do,' Arthur retorts. 'You spoke.'

'So did you. I heard you swearing afterwards. And before. That's twice, so I win.'

Damn this kid's hearing. Arthur sighs and digs into his pocket for some spare change. If Peter is the quieter of the two in the morning, he gets extra money for the corner store where they collect their breakfast. Arthur isn't a huge fan of wasting his savings every day, but the alternative is getting up even earlier to make breakfast for the two of them. Not to mention the fact that that the toaster is broken beyond repair and the milk is almost always out of date.

'Maybe Dad should play as well,' Peter muses, grinning as he snatches the money out of Arthur's hand. 'He makes way more noise than us. We'd be rich.'

Arthur offers a weak smile and doesn't reply. He's certain Peter knows why they have to be silent in the morning, but as long as he keeps presenting it as a game for his little brother, Peter will probably continue treating it as such.

'Don't get sweets,' Arthur tells him as they're embraced by a warm gush of air from opening the shop door.

'My money, my pick,' Peter says cheekily. He races off down the snacks aisle and leaves Arthur standing in the doorway. The elder brother heads over to the cold drinks, knowing full well that he won't have enough energy to make it through the morning, let alone the whole day. He's noticed with his Variant Chip that it really can take a toll on the user. Arthur is no stranger to migraines, thankfully, so the resulting minor headaches he has been experiencing aren't too hard to deal with. Still, it would be nice if he could get his hands on that anaesthetic cream they give to the elderly when they visit San Junipero…

His thoughts are interrupted by his phone buzzing once again, this time from a text. He pulls it out and stares at the message on the screen in confusion for a few moments.

You sure? I can pick you and Pete up from school if you like.

Oh, shit. That's right. Arthur must have sent a text last night, once he'd gotten back from San Junipero and before he passed out. Reaching into the refrigerated shelf for an energy drink with one hand absentmindedly, Arthur thinks through his response carefully before beginning to type.

We'll walk.

The air outside feels more freezing than it did when they first left the house, although Arthur doesn't find that surprising in the slightest. The corner shop always has the heating on this time of year, while his home… generally isn't much better than the outside temperature. Peter moans about the chill the second they step back out again, tugging at the ends of his scarf fiercely until Arthur tells him he'll only strangle himself doing that.

'It's too cold,' Peter complains, shaking his arms about in an effort to warm them. Arthur scoffs lightly. His brother is too much of a summer child- in every sense of the term, he adds privately, smiling. Peter is very much like how Arthur once was, back in Brighton during those long summers, with days that couldn't even be deterred by the usual dreary clouds. But Peter was four when they moved to London, and eight when they came to the US. He would have been too young to remember the days on the beach if they'd even still been going down to it regularly after he was born.

Nevertheless, Peter's absolutely rubbish with the cold. At the first sign of winter, he immediately dons coats, scarfs and gloves at every opportunity. Admittedly, Arthur does feel quite cold with only his jacket to keep him warm, but he isn't about to let anyone know that.

Arthur takes a deep breath. He won't mention giving up the offer of a lift, either. Peter will just be fed up, and this day is certainly going to be stressful enough already.

He doesn't need to look into the future to know that.

The first few periods go by in relative smoothness, by Monday morning standards. His poetry module almost proves to be an issue when he suddenly remembers about ten minutes into it that he completely forgot to read the set texts for this week, but is relieved when the teacher is too distracted with the kids who failed last week's assignment to bother to check. His phone doesn't go off once, which isn't exactly a big shocker. He doesn't have anyone he actually keeps in regular contact with, other than the contacts he keeps out of necessity. While he knows his classmates might find it sad that he has no friends to text, Arthur quite enjoys it. Dealing with most texts is quite the hassle in his experience, and he often finds he doesn't have the energy to deal with them. Not to mention, he can do without the social life. Everything's just a little too chaotic already without one of those.

It isn't until lunchtime that something out of the ordinary occurs. Arthur is adding food to his tray, ready to pretend to take it outside to eat (when in actuality he has the perfect little corner in the library attic where he can go mostly undetected- and he has gotten very good at quickly barrelling food into his bag and hiding himself if anyone does come his way) when he spots what is probably the second to last person he wants to see. Maybe third if he's being generous. He isn't.

Alfred Williams-Jones is headed straight in his direction with his own empty tray, an entirely nonchalant look on his face. He's on his own, so there's at least one small blessing, but Arthur can easily make out his friends sitting at their usual table, and any one of them could turn and wonder exactly what the hell Alfred is doing.

'Hey, Arthur,' Alfred says, smiling. He begins piling some ham sandwiches onto his tray.

'What?' Arthur says bluntly, deciding there's no point bothering with pleasantries. An uneasy tingling is spreading over his skin, and he grits his teeth in frustration, hoping it doesn't show. Judging by just how careless Alfred was in San Junipero itself, God only knows how he's going to behave in a crowded school cafeteria.

Alfred looks exasperated, although he's still smiling. He's a complete fool, Arthur decides.

'Once again, nice to see you too,' he says, and Arthur's mind immediately flashes to the night before, where those stupid, friendly words were all this numbskull could come up with.

All of this is stupid in itself, but Arthur is more than simply miffed by that. After everything he'd told his classmate last night, he had hoped at least something, maybe even his parting words (which should be the freshest thing in this guy's memory, he thinks angrily) would have sunken in.

'What part of never come to me did you not understand?' he says very lowly, under his breath.

Alfred blinks. 'What? But I- I thought you meant like… in the other place.'

'I said everywhere,' Arthur hisses, letting his eyes dart about. No one is looking at them from what he can see, but he has his back to the main bulk of the cafeteria and he's almost afraid to look.

Alfred is frowning now. 'What's the big deal? It's just school.'

Arthur takes a deep breath, and tries to ignore the churning feeling inside him. 'We don't talk normally.'

'What, and you think people will notice? No one's gonna care, Arthur.'

He's probably right, but Arthur is far from the type to take any chances. 'Call me paranoid all you like,' he hisses. 'If you want to risk getting caught, that's fine. I was under the impression you had quite a lot to lose. But hey, what do I know?'

Alfred glares at him. 'Okay, okay, fine. Jeez. Just wanted to thank you again is all. And ask when we're doing it next-'

Arthur angrily shoves a juice box onto his tray and stomps off towards the doors, praying Alfred won't follow him. All he asked- all he fucking asked- was that Alfred listened to him, and respected his conditions. Deep down, he knows he's getting far too worked up about this, but this is far from what he had in mind. All he wants is peace and quiet, and above all, safety. And Alfred could ruin all three.

His heart is pounding just a little too fast for his liking, and Arthur knows the next place he should go is the sick bay. It's not as if they'll be out of his prescription, seeing as he has only ever gone for it twice before- and on both occasions, purely to prove to them that there was even an issue. The rest of the time, he just breaks into his emergency batch of diazepam at the bottom of his pencil case. Students aren't allowed to carry any kind of drugs around school with them, medical or otherwise. Then again, students aren't supposed to sneak food into the library at lunchtimes or sneak off school grounds during gym lessons either. And students most certainly aren't supposed to be hacking into San Junipero in their spare time, but hey? No one is.

He's halfway up the steps to the staff only back entrance to the library, under the cover of the trees between the building and the playing field, when he hears someone else's footsteps ascending too.

Truthfully, it is somewhat of a relief that it is just Alfred. He'd hate for his secret lunch spot to be ruined by a teacher catching him in the act.

'Where are you even going?' Alfred asks, and even from ten or so feet away Arthur can see the skeptical raise of his classmate's eyebrow.

'Why are you still following me?' Arthur demands.

'Come on, we've got total privacy out here. Can we talk now?'

Arthur sighs. It's not as if he can go in the damn attic now anyway. If Alfred finds out that the maintenance staff leave the door open from when they start before school to around six in the evening, he'll probably come barging in whenever he likes.

Arthur instead takes a seat on the steps, and Alfred rushes up quickly to sit beside him, looking far too enthusiastic for Arthur's liking. Alfred's always got that look about him- like an overactive puppy on steroids, wanting in on everyone's business. He'd be friends with the whole damn school if he could.

Precisely why, after two weeks of that absolutely pointless mentoring when Arthur first started, he avoided Alfred and those like him like the plague.

'I take it that's a yes?' Alfred says, grinning.

'Just get on with it,' Arthur snaps. 'What do you want to talk about?'

'Wanna discuss that weird ass rule of yours, for a start. What if I need to talk, like ASAP? No offence, Arthur, but waiting for you to come find me would be like waiting for the next Game of Thrones book.'

'A Song of Ice and Fire,' Arthur says automatically, although he doesn't deny Alfred's point. It is kind of a fair assessment.

'Whatever. My point is, as you're so big on pointing it out, I'm super new to this. What if there are things I need to ask, before I go there next time? I don't have your number or anything.'

And you're not getting it, Arthur thinks moodily, but even he is too civil to actually say it. 'Well, you want to learn what not to do? Don't even think about texting about this sort of thing. If the police get wind of anything, they'll search your phone records. Just pretend it's all about drugs or something. You wouldn't just haphazardly text your dealer-'

'Loads of people do. Although, we could just get those cheap flip phones, like in the movies.' Alfred seems far too amused at the thought. 'Oh wow. I think I'd actually prefer it if people thought I was buying weed or something. My parents would probably take that better than the truth.'

Arthur has nothing to say to that. His face is heating up a little, although certainly not from embarrassment. Shame would be a better assessment. Not for the first time, he seriously reconsiders his own nature. Seriously thinks about what that councillor back home in his last school told him, about taming his hostility, his coldness towards his peers, his aggression. About it all being a problem. About it being wrong.

But it isn't wrong for him. It shouldn't have to be.

So he shuts his mouth and doesn't say anything. Better to remain silent than to be as spiteful as ever. If he could be nice last night, right in the middle of panicking greatly at having been caught in the Ghost Town, he can at least act like an actual human being while Alfred talks about his family.

The guilt lets him know he still can.

'They were at this dinner party last night. A friend from church had a get together or something,' Alfred explains. 'They go to 'em quite a lot, actually. My dad's big on being part of stuff. Community spirit and all that. Man, Mattie and I used to hate going. We'd sit at the table with all the grownups and eat with them and everything, and it sorta felt like we were all grown up too. But man were those things boring. Anyway. That's where they were last night. I stopped having to go with them like two years ago. I figured it was as good a night as any to… you know. Try you-know-where out for the first time.'

Arthur shifts restlessly. 'Fair enough. I wouldn't recommend Sunday nights though. I'm really starting to realise this myself. Nights with school the next day are a bad idea.'

'My head felt all weird this morning,' Alfred admits, touching one of his temples lightly. 'It ached a bit. Is it meant to do that?'

'Probably. I get migraines, and the Chip doesn't help. We don't exactly have the anaesthetic salve they give the old people. Even PATCO doesn't bother with that.'

Too comfy, his brain reminds him. Too familiar. Cut it out now.

'Anyway,' he says briskly, almost wincing at how obnoxious he makes the mood change sound. 'I'm sure I can handle a task a little quicker than George R R Martin, at the very least. We have lunch to eat. In our respective spots.'

'No one's gonna notice I'm gone, Arthur,' Alfred says, and he really is starting to sound annoyed now. Arthur feels strangely proud that not once, but twice has he managed to shatter Alfred's perpetual cheerful attitude. Far more ashamed about it, certainly- the guy just lost his brother, you insensitive fuck- but a little bit of pride remains.

Arthur has the ability to piss off even the most optimistic of individuals. It's like a superpower. A shit one, but it has its uses. It protects him, and that alone should be enough.

'I don't always sit with them now, anyway,' Alfred says. 'Sometimes they say stuff, and I know they're tryna be nice, but they do it all wrong. Whatever. They probably think I'm just in the bathroom crying or some shit. That's what people do.'

In crappy Hollywood high school rom coms, maybe. Arthur has had plenty of breakdowns in this shit hole of a school and not a single one has he risked having in the very public, constantly occupied bathrooms.

'I like to be alone,' he says. That's why anywhere here but the library attic will never be any good. Why his food remains untouched, just waiting on his lap. Alfred shouldn't be here. No one should be, not even him.

'Yeah. Ain't that the truth,' Alfred says, his voice peculiarly cold. He grabs his food and gets to his feet. 'I'll leave you to it then. And just wait, I guess. No problem.'

Arthur himself is feeling a little cold now. 'Right,' he says, because what the hell else is there he can say that won't just fuck up his thought pattern or this conversation anymore?

Alfred starts heading down the steps, then hesitates after a couple of seconds. 'I don't know why you're like this, you know. Can you at least cut me some slack on that front? I have no idea what I'm actually doing wrong, apart from literally being here.'

Well, there you go. There's your answer, right there. It's not exactly hiding. God, if only his head could shut the fuck up.

'I just want to be alone,' he says, practicing I'm sorry in his head. It doesn't sound right. For all his manners around adults and whatnot, it just wouldn't sound natural. And it might help mend bridges that should be left as rubble.

'Yeah. I got that,' Alfred says, and then he is gone.

Arthur waits a little while, staring at nothing in particular while ice begins to settle at the bottom of his empty stomach, before he's certain the coast is clear. He gathers up his things and pelts into the library like it's some stupid game of hide and seek- just like at the beach, before being a certified grade A arsehole was his chosen path and he didn't need to hide in all the other ways he does now. The dunes were always the best places to pick, and the massive boulders with their narrow tunnels and caves between them and their little rock pools far below. He could have hidden there forever when he was very little. It was the safest place in the world. No adult, no near adult, could ever have fit through those gaps.

But another child could.

The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction on my account (Rezeren).