#��eh. you can write whatever” ???????????????? HUH???? MATE THAT IS HALF OF THE WORK???????????????????

[quitedisastrous]

i wish i could just do nothing for a few days straight. maybe even just sleep for a few days straight. sooo excited for constant misery over the next 20 days

ranting in the tags. i would just scroll past if i were you

[whats-rambled-rambled]

TA, dr and other abbreviations

Neil x Reader

summary: some time ago, Neil was a TA at your uni, now you meet up again when he needs your help with his next mission

+ song: Chase Atlantic - Friends

warnings: language, alcohol mention, things get steamy so let’s say 18+

author’s note: that request was fun! 👀 I’ve enjoyed the dynamic between those two, so I decided to try something different in terms of the writing style. 

This is also the first one-shot not related to Stuck in Reverse series, can you believe?

Let me know what you think!

___

Your eyes dart towards your lab’s door, your brows raise at the sight of a familiar face. Your day just got a whole lot better.

“Good afternoon, I’m looking for doctor-...” a man at the door glances at you and he skips a beat, clearly trying to remember where does he know you from.

You don’t feel like helping him to figure it out though. To be fair, you’ve changed quite a lot over those last 10 years. You smile to yourself as you think about your younger self, always so anxious and flustered in Neil’s presence. If only she could see you now. She would appreciate the glow-up, that’s for sure.

God, you used to have the biggest crush on him. Not that he knew about it, of course. He was 8 years older than you, also he was a TA during your uni time. You talked sometimes, but that was all, you knew he was seeing someone back then; you settled down for daydreaming about his blue eyes and dying a bit inside whenever you saw him.

And now he’s here, still as hot and gorgeous as ever.

You put on your most polite expression, fighting the smug grin from appearing on your face.

“While I kinda enjoy seeing your puzzled face, I’m also quite busy, so I'm gonna give you a tip – your little TA gig a few years ago.”

Neil’s gaze flares up as he looks you up and down, still a bit confused, trying to match the image he remembers to your present look. 

He blinks twice, composes himself, and proceeds with his request for your aid.

When he leans over your desk and shows you the mission’s brief on his tablet, you notice that he wears the same cologne as he used to all those years ago. Your heart flutters in your chest, but definitely not in that old, nervous way. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to stay focused on Neil’s words. You must admit, the sudden change in dynamic is thrilling. As you help him go through some of the details regarding his next assignment, you wonder if you’re gonna see him more frequently from now on.

You certainly wouldn’t mind.

This time, the Universe smiles upon you.

Neil pops into your lab more and more often. 

At first, it’s all related to work. 

After some time, you begin to wonder if he doesn’t look for just any excuse to come over. You don’t care though, you really enjoy his company. 

And it seems like Neil’s grown quite fond of you himself. 

Now that he’s finally wrapped his mind around the new you, his blue eyes always light up in your presence. You don’t even realize the exact moment when his usual charming demeanor becomes straight up flirtatious. 

But when you notice that change, oh my, the game is on.

Well, he still keeps it all professional, of course. 

It’s the little things. That slight change of posture. The accidental brush of his fingers on your hand when he passes you things. Or that light touch on your shoulder when you both lean over the desk and go through some papers needed for his missions. 

The intense stare right into your eyes, with a corner of his lips twitched in a half-smile. 

But you can give as good as you get. 

The way you tilt your head and expose your neck when he’s standing close. Taking that little extra step in his direction when you talk, stopping at the verge of his personal space as you watch him hold his breath for a second. A bit of playful teasing, sometimes involving light tugs at his tie.

And that last thing always ends up with Neil almost forgetting the tongue in his mouth. Almost. 

...Sometimes you ask yourself if you’re not having too much fun when he’s around. You’re at work, after all.

It’s one of those evenings. You should’ve gone home a long time ago, instead, you’re hanging out with Neil, talking about everything and nothing in particular.

Your phone beeps. You read a short message and you muse over it for a moment. You know that your companion is gonna leave soon, late-night mission or whatever; the suggestion to blow off steam you’ve received sounds like just what you need. 

You meet Neil’s curious look and you realize you’ve let a sly grin appear on your face.

You shrug.

“A booty call,” you say in the most casual tone.

A hint of satisfaction flashes in your eyes when you watch Neil’s very conflicted expression. You bite your lip to stifle a giggle. He’s adorable.

He crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth curl.

“Does that happen often?”

“Oh darling, a lady never kisses and tells. Why, do you want in on the list?” you tease, narrowing your eyes.

His eyebrow quirks. “There is a list, huh?”

“Is that a yes?” you grin, mimicking his raised brow.

He walks up to your desk and slowly reaches past you for his jacket, hung on the back of your seat.

And as his face gets right next to your ear-...

“Maybe.” 

When he pulls back and you see his blue eyes, how dark they are, it takes all your self-control to keep a straight face. But the question escapes your mouth anyway.

“See you later this week?” 

You mentally kick yourself for this moment of weakness.

“Hm,” he gives you a peculiar smile on his way out. 

Well, that wasn't exactly a yes.

At the door, he shoots you a quick look over his shoulder.

“Have fun.”

...does he seem a little pissed-off to you? 

And you have fun that night, all right. 

Even though all you can think about are those blue eyes and dirty blonde hair.

Then, Neil doesn’t show up for the next couple of days.

For a moment, you get tempted to check on him at the HQ, but you scoff at yourself. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself. 

When he finally walks into your lab, something feels different. 

You can’t put your finger on it. 

In the beginning, he’s just so official and it irks you. But you look into his eyes and… it almost seems like he’s taunting you. And it makes your heart increase its pace. 

Oh, you see how it is. 

On top of it all, he’s so annoying today.

He sits on the chair, loosening his tie, his legs spread, his gaze locked on you. 

After yet another snarky comment, you grit your teeth, trying to focus on the documents in front of you. 

“Neil, if you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

And he does. He does, leaning back on the chair with a smug smile. 

So... now what?

You scoff and close in on him.

“Why are you like this?” you utter, reaching for his tie.

The innocent look in his eyes.

“Like what?”

You give his tie a tug.

“Rude.”

And then that bastard runs the tongue over his lower lip and smirks.

Next thing you know, you straddle him on the chair, burying your fingers in his hair as his mouth crushes on yours. Neil wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. The urgency of the kiss takes your breath away. You rock your hips and you brush against the bulk in his trousers, and oh god, it feels so good. Your head arches back. Neil’s breath and his lips on your neck drive you wild. You need him, right here, right now. You cling on to him for your dear life as you move your hips again and a sharp moan escapes his mouth. 

The abrupt knock on your door makes you both jump at your feet, trying to level your breaths. 

“Mate, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why the fuck are you not answering your phone, eh?”

As Ives enters the room, his eyes dart between the two of you, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“Ah shit, I hope I am not interrupting?”

You roll your eyes as Neil simply glares at him.

The moment is gone, and so are they, leaving for yet another emergency operation.

A few days later, your friends take you out for drinks, and you definitely have one too many. 

…Or a few too many. 

You end up standing at Neil’s apartment door, pressing the doorbell excessively long.

He opens up, looking you up and down with an amused smile.

You poke him in the chest.

“Consider yourself booty-called.”

You giggle as you watch his eyes widen.

Neil clenches his jaw and takes a step back.

“Jesus... Come in?”

He takes your coat and you make your way inside. 

You are way past caring about small talks and whatnot. You pull on his shirt, trying to guide him towards that rather comfy looking couch. 

One more step. 

You want to kiss him, but Neil puts a finger on your mouth and shakes his head.

“What? I thought you wanted in on the list?” you ask as you sit down on the couch, your brows furrowed.

“Not like this.”

Wow, now your pride is hurt a little.

“Fine, I’m going home then,” you pout and try to get up quickly.

You underestimate the amount of alcohol in your system though, so you yelp and fall back. 

“You’re not going anywhere in this state,” he scoffs.

Why is he the way that he is?

“I’ll get you some coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

And so you do. You toss your shoes away and rest your head on one of the pillows. 

You close your eyes just for a second.

You open them up again when Neil covers you with a blanket. 

To be honest, you’re way too tired and cozy to argue.

When you notice the soft look in his blue eyes, your heart melts in your chest.

And because all your filters are off at this point, you say, “I really like you, you know?”

He chuckles and places a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Tell me that when you’re sober.”

The next morning… well, let’s just say that you wish the sun was shining a bit more quietly.

Neil glances at you from the kitchen.

“Morning.”

You don’t know what hits you first – the pounding headache or the nauseating dread at the thought of what’s happened last night.

“Fuck me,” you groan, hiding your face in your palms. 

And what do you hear in response?

“With pleasure. But how about we eat breakfast first?”

[let-it-raines]

all for a 56-pack of crayons

Prompt which has obviously been a little modified because of who I am as a person: “I was bartending at an Italian restaurant and it’s pretty much full of valentine dates. A guy walks in and sits at the bar by himself. He had come to the city to surprise his girlfriend for valentine’s day (about a five-hour bus trip between cities) and he sure surprised her. she was in her dorm room fucking one of his friends from high school”

so @shireness-says​ sent me the above prompt a dreadfully long time ago, and I was going to write it for her birthday. I missed that date by a few weeks, but who doesn’t love a late birthday gift? Keeping the party going! 🎉 

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“This,” Emma says, motioning out to all of the people in front of her. “People can go on dates every day of the year, but everyone in all of Portland is here tonight.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Mary Margaret sighs, a goofy little smile on her face that’s always there when she’s talking or thinking about love. It’d be obnoxious if she wasn’t so damn charming. Or nice. Charming is really more of David’s thing. “People like to go on dates on Valentine’s Day.”

“Because it’s a – ”

“Societal construct. Yes, I know. You’ve said that once or twice.”

Emma rolls her eyes and grabs the bottle of wine she was looking for. “Look, all I’m saying is that if you think proposing to your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day is romantic, you’ve got issues. There are a lot of days of the year, make another one of them special.”

“Emma.”

“I’ve got to go serve table ten. He’s got a ring being put in a dessert. Be right back.”

Mary Margaret isn’t behind the bar when Emma gets back. She’s probably off trying to help some teenagers flirt or listening to some couple’s love story. She’s very into romance and candy hearts and the whole big thing. It’s like this every year, but Emma can’t blame her, not really. Mary Margaret has been with David since they were fifteen years old, and her entire life is some kind of candy heart and giant teddy bear holding red roses world. There are obviously a few pieces of melted chocolate and fallen rose petals in there, but overall, she’s never had a reason to be sick of love and this holiday that just makes single people feel shitty about themselves.

“Whatever your strongest rum is, I want that.”

Emma turns to see a man sliding down at the barstool in front of her. No one is sitting up here tonight. Everyone is in the booths and at the tables, so what the hell is this guy doing up here?

Alone.

She quickly glances over him. He’s got on a white button-down, the top few buttons undone, and a leather jacket on top of it. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and Emma can’t tell whether he just doesn’t know how to do his hair or if he’s one of those guys who tries to artfully mess his hair up. From everything else about his looks, he’s definitely a guy who tries to do that.

You don’t look like him and wear a leather jacket if you don’t know you’re attractive.

The blue eyes alone could probably get half the girls in here into bed with him.

Woah, Emma.

That’s definitely taking her judgment of people a little too far.

“You don’t want something specific?” Emma asks him.

“Whatever can get me drunk.”

Emma’s brows raise, but she quickly tries to neutralize her face. She judges people all the time, but they can’t know that she judges them. She would lose her tips, and she needs those to live and to pay bills and to be able to buy Henry new shoes and the 56-pack of crayons he wants that has all of the specialized colors.

“I am technically not supposed to encourage a customer to get drunk, but I will get that rum for you.”

“Thank you, lass.”

Emma bends down and searches through their shelf of rum, pulling out a bottle that won’t break the guy’s bank but that tastes good enough, and pours him a glass. “You need anything else?”

“Do you serve food up here?”

“We do, but sir, if you’re here for a date, I’m afraid – ”

The man downs his drink before slamming the glass against the bar top. He winces and then adjusts the tumbler.

“I’m not here for a date. I’m simply here for some food and a few more glasses of rum.”

“I’m not supposed to let you have enough to get drunk. I wasn’t kidding about that.”

“Lucky for you, I have a high tolerance.”

Emma’s eyes roll, and she turns away to hide that before grabbing a menu off the shelf and then handing it to him. “You can look through this, and then when you’re ready, I’ll send your order back to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, love.”

“Not your love.”

Oh shit. She shouldn’t get snippy with him. She was just thinking about how she needs the tips.  

56 pack of crayons and all.

“Sorry,” Emma mumbles. “Force of habit.”

“You have a lot of people call you love? I didn’t know there was such a British population in Portland.”

“I have a lot of people call me by pet names,” Emma corrects, forcing her smile back onto her face. “Baby, sweetheart, honey, whatever else men can come up with when they’re trying to hit on me.”

The man nods and places his hand on the counter. She glances down at the movement, notices the fact that he has a glove on just that one hand, and as much as she is curious, she’s sure as hell not about to ask. Her five-year-old might ask, but she’s decidedly not five and has better manners than that.

“I apologize, love. Fuck. Didn’t mean to say that.”

Emma chuckles and turns around to get him a glass of water. She should have already done that, but she got distracted. “It’s Emma. Emma Swan. I’m sorry for not telling you my name earlier. I should have as soon as you sat down. I seem to be off my game tonight.”

“Killian Jones.”

She turns around with his water and puts it down. “It’s nice to meet you. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Emma stays busy for the next hour, serving drinks and doing the take-out orders, and while people come up to the bar, none of them stay. They’re here for a fleeting moment, getting what they need, and then going. She doesn’t mind. It’s busy enough in here that she never stays idle, and if she keeps working, this damn day will be over and she can go home, never thinking of engagement rings and candy hearts again.

A round of applause sounds around the restaurant, and Emma looks up to see a man on his knees and his girlfriend with her hands clasped over her mouth.

“Does that happen often?”

“Huh?”

“The proposal,” Killian explains. “Does that happen often?”

“I’d say we get a proposal in here every two weeks, but on Valentine’s Day? At least ten per shift.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of Valentine’s Day.”

“I think it’s cliched, and I’m not really a fan of cliched.”

“Eh, I think it has its pros and cons. A few clichés are good.”

Emma crosses her arms over her chest. “Like what?”

“Surprises, maybe. If you’re in a long-distance relationship and you ride on a train for five-hours to surprise your girlfriend, I imagine that can be a nice, cliched thing.”

“Is that what you did?”

He drinks half of his glass before stabbing a piece of his steak. “Funnily enough, I did.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Well, when I showed up to her apartment, she was fucking my oldest mate.”

Holy shit.

No wonder he wanted the strongest rum they have.

“You’re kidding? You have to be kidding.”

He scoffs and leans back on the stool, a smile curving on his lips while his eyelashes flutter. “I wish I was.”

Emma shakes her head and grabs his bottle, pouring a little more in his glass. “I’m cutting you off after this glass, but this one’s on me.”

“You don’t have to do that, Swan.”

“Look, I may hate Valentine’s Day, but no one deserves that when they were trying to do something romantic. Hell, no one ever deserves that. Unless maybe they’re an asshole.”

“I guess I’m an asshole.”

“I don’t know you well enough to say for sure, but I doubt it.”

“How would you know?”

Emma shrugs. “I call it my superpower. I’ve got an intuition about these types of things.”

“It’s true. She does.” Mary Margaret steps up beside her and leans forward on the counter. “So, I couldn’t help but overhear your story.”

“Marg – ”

Mary Margaret waves her away. “First of all, I’m so sorry. Secondly, I bet you don’t have a place to stay tonight, so why don’t you stay with us?”

Oh hell no.

“Marg,” Emma hisses, pulling Mary Margaret away from the counter and back against the shelves, “what the hell are you doing?”

“He was going to stay with his girlfriend tonight, but now they’ve broken up.”

“He can stay in a hotel.”

“That’ll be so expensive. Come on. We have a couch.”

“I don’t want to have to spend the night with a stranger. That’s not safe.”

“David is a cop.”

“He doesn’t know that. He could still plan on murdering us.”

“Well, I suppose I do now,” Killian says. She and Mary Margaret both turn on their heels to look at him. “Sorry. You’re not exactly in a discreet spot. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer, lass. I don’t – you’re too kind, but I can’t accept it.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret begs.

“No.”

“Emma.”

“No.”

“I’m Mary Margaret,” she suddenly says, turning to Killian and shaking his hand. “You’ve had a rough night, obviously, and I think you need some homemade brownies. Let me call my boyfriend, and I’ll clear it with him.”

“What about Emma?”

“Ignore her. She’s paranoid that everyone is a serial killer.”

“She has a point.”

“You’re not a serial killer. We can both tell.”

“Love, I really – I cannot impose on you.”

Emma blinks at him, wondering why the hell British people use so many pet names. She’s not sure what the hell is happening. Why is Mary Margaret inviting him to their apartment? Why is she so insistent on it? This isn’t the first time someone has stumbled into the restaurant wanting to get drunk because something shitty has happened, and it certainly won’t be the last.

But Mary Margaret is Mary Margaret, and Emma guesses she’s going to sleep in Henry’s room with the door locked and his dresser pushed up against the door.

Not that she thinks this is a bad guy.

But precautions and all that. She’s not naïve enough to think that everyone she meets is going to be a good person, and she’s not taking a single chance when it comes to Henry.

“You wouldn’t be imposing in the slightest. Our shift finishes at midnight.”

Emma turns around to Mary Margaret and hisses, “if he murders us, I’m coming back to life to kill you again.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

-/-

“So, what do you do?”

“David,” Mary Margaret sighs. “Don’t make him uncomfortable.”

“He’s sleeping on our couch. I can ask him what he does.”

“Be nice.”

“I’m getting my Masters in Civil Engineering at NYU.”

Emma lets out a low whistle before catching herself. Damn. That’s impressive, especially considering she’s currently in a bunch of lit classes with eighteen-year-olds who couldn’t care less about the classes they’re in. They also complain about having class at eight in the morning and then finishing all of their classes by noon, but, really, she can’t be bothered by them too much. If her life had gone the way theirs had, she imagines she would complain about being up at eight in the morning, too.

Hell, she does now. Just for entirely different reasons.

“Something to say about that, love?” Killian asks, both brows raised.

She bites her tongue at the name. He’s been letting them fly for both she and Mary Margaret all night, so it really must be a force of habit and not him trying to get into her pants.

“Not a thing.”

“So what do you plan on doing with that?” David asks Killian.

“Well, I am planning on – ”

“Mom.”

Oh shit.

Emma turns around and sees Henry standing in the hallway. He’s in his pajamas, his hair pushed up from where he’s been sleeping, and he only has one sock on. How the hell does that always happen?

“Kid, what are you doing awake?”

“You guys are loud. Who’s that?”

Emma looks between Henry and Killian, trying to figure out how the hell to explain this to a child.

“A friend,” she quickly answers. “He’s going to sleep on the couch tonight before he leaves in the morning to go back home.”

“Where is he from?”

“New York.”

“How do you know him?”

“Alright,” Emma sighs, going toward Henry and gently placing her hands on his shoulders before guiding him back to his room, closing the door behind them. “It’s late, and you need to go back to bed. We’re going to the playground in the morning, remember?”

“The TV man said it was going to snow.”

“Well, when has a little snow ever stopped us?”

She gets Henry back in bed and cuddles up beside him, tucking him in and fixing his hair before kissing his forehead and sighing. She’s exhausted, desperately needs to be in her own bed, but that probably won’t happen tonight.

“Did you have a good day at school?” Emma whispers while she still strokes Henry’s hair.

“Mhm.”

“Did you give your cards to your class?”

“Yep! Can I eat my candy?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to say no to that one. You’ll get far too much energy, and then you’d have to brush your teeth again.”

“Nooo,” Henry giggles, squirming as Emma runs her fingers over his belly. “I don’t want to brush my teeth again.”

“Then I guess candy will have to wait for the morning.”

Henry sighs and shifts in his bed, burying his face into his pillow. He’s quiet, so Emma doesn’t say anything, hoping that maybe he’s going to fall asleep easily. Henry’s going to be in a mood in the morning. She can already tell. Hopefully, and it is a big hope, he’ll sleep in.

There’s almost a 100% certainty that he won’t.

“Is that man your boyfriend?”

Emma nearly chokes on her own tongue.

“What?”

Henry twists around until she can see his face again. “Avery said since I don’t have a dad, that my mom must have a boyfriend. Do you kiss him?”

His face is so twisted over the thought of Emma kissing someone that she can barely hold in her laughter. Her stomach is probably about as twisted as Henry’s face is.

“No, kid, that man is not my boyfriend. I don’t have one, but I promise if I get one, you’ll be the first one to know.”

He won’t be. If she ever does decide to date again, Henry won’t be meeting anyone until she’s somehow sure that everything will go right.

She has no idea how people do this.

It takes a few more minutes for Henry to fall back asleep, soft puffs of air hitting against her neck, and when she’s sure that he’s sound asleep, she carefully untangles herself and moves out of his bed, quietly exiting his room and going back out into the hallway. Mary Margaret, David, and Killian are all sitting in the living room, quietly talking, and Emma tries to slip past them and into her own bedroom only for David to call her over to hear some story about how Killian managed to get here from London. She listens to half of it, but she’s not nearly as intrigued by the stranger in her apartment. When he was nothing but a handsome customer, he was fine. This is much too much.

And that’s exactly why she excuses herself to her room, slipping out of her uniform and taking a shower to wash away the smell of food and alcohol and everything she hates about her job.

She’s going to smell like garlic bread for the rest of her life.

By the time she’s finished, has braid her hair back, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and changed into a pair of pajamas, it’s far past three in the morning. She needs to go to sleep, but she’s not leaving Henry unattended. As quietly as possible, she grabs an extra blanket and steps out into the main room of the apartment, hoping that Killian is asleep and stays that way.

Because this is her life, he is obviously wide awake and sitting at the kitchen table with a still steaming mug of what smells like tea in front of him.

He looks up the moment her bedroom door clicks behind her.

Shit.

“Swan,” he nods.

She nods. How rude would she be to ignore him and walk to Henry’s room?

“Oh. You’re still up.”

“It would seem so.”

“Do you need something? Another blanket? A pillow? Is Netflix not working?”

Killian shakes his head and takes a sip of his tea. She didn’t even know they had tea. Mary Margaret must have had some.

“I’m fine. I assure you that the three of you have been nothing but hospitable when I was fine to find a motel.” He reaches up and scratches behind his ear. She tries her best to ignore the fact that the fingers underneath his glove don’t move. “If I had known you had a son, I – ”

The hair on the back of her neck stands. “You would have what?”

“I would have never accepted Mary Margaret’s proposal. I’m sure you don’t want someone you don’t know being that close to your kid.”

“No, I don’t. You could be the nicest guy in the world, but don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second.”

“I would despair if you did.”

Emma scoffs and turns her head away. Stupidly, she looks back. “If you want to spike your tea, I think we have some whiskey.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“I’m off the clock now. I feel like you might deserve it.”

His head tilts back in quiet, broken laughter. “Aye, I suppose I do. It’s been a banner night.”

“I don’t know her or anything, but your girlfriend is obviously an idiot to cheat on you.”

“You don’t know anything about me either.”

“I know that very few people deserve to have their heart broken like that.”

“Is that what happened to you? You had your heart broken?”

She tugs the blanket around her shoulders. “That’s not your business.”

“Forgive me, love. You’re something of an open book to me. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Now she’s the one who needs a drink.

This has not been her day.

Far too much love.

Far too many thoughts of Neal.

Far too many British men thinking they know her when they don’t.

“You don’t know anything about me either.”

Killian sighs and takes another long sip of his tea. “I know you hate Valentine’s Day and have a son while also living with another couple who are slightly older than you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out a few things about you just as I’m sure you’ve done the same to me.”

Emma almost protests. But only almost. He’s right. She’s been watching people for a long time, and it’s easy to know that he uses his looks more than his intelligence to initially make people be fond of him. He’s charming, but he’s also smart. He’s studying a crazy difficult subject at a school that isn’t exactly for slackers, and while he may secretly be an asshole for his girlfriend to cheat on him, she doesn’t get that feeling.

She gets the feeling that he might be as down on her luck as she is sometimes.

“I’m getting the whiskey,” she blurts out. She’s not tired anymore, and if she goes to Henry’s room, she’s going to end up not being able to sleep. “Do you like hot chocolate?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had any.”

“Well, we’re changing that.”

Emma has obviously lost her mind in some kind of sleep-deprived, stressed-out kind of way, but she finds it easy to talk to Killian.

Which is dumb.

She wanted to hate him.

She really did.

But he’s easy to talk to despite the fact that she’s mad about that and that it’s probably one of the worst days of his life. She would assume. She doesn’t know.

What she does know, however, is that he was in the Navy for one year, was involved in an accident, and the compensation he got for that funded his move to the US and his education, which is a lot more information than what he shared with David earlier. It’s kind of fascinating, if not a little tragic, and maybe today wasn’t the worst day of his life.

She may have a little bit of whiskey in her, but she’s not about to spill all of her secrets.

Then again, she’s never going to see this man again. He’ll be a fleeting memory, just a ship passing in the night.

But no. She won’t share. Wounds never close if you keep picking at them, and she’s not going to do that.

Instead she tells him she just started at a local community college and that she hopes to get into the nursing program. She’s never been great at science, but it’s a good career with good pay, and by the time she’s finished with the program Henry will hopefully be at least a little self-sufficient. Besides, she’s got David and Mary Margaret to help her, and she can handle it.

She always has.

His mom was apparently a nurse, and she doesn’t ask about the way he refers to her in the past tense. It’s easier not to. Instead she listens to him share stories of she’d once told him when he was younger. It’s all crazy and stressful, and if Emma didn’t want a better life for she and Henry so badly, she’d probably drop all of her classes out of fear right now.

But the better life is calling.

Killian keeps the conversation flowing from topic to topic more easily than anyone has a right to, and he only occasionally stops, a dark flash settling in his eyes and in the curve of his lips. But just as quickly as it appears, it disappears and he talks of his favorite shows or the runs he likes to go on early in the morning when, miraculously, most of Manhattan is asleep.

“Thanks for this, love.”

“For what?” Emma asks.

“For keeping my mind occupied. I don’t – well, I bloody don’t know what I’d do if I’d stumbled into another restaurant tonight.”

Emma leans forward and tears apart a piece of her pop tart. “You’d be sleeping on some other bartender’s couch.”

“There’s not currently a lot of sleeping going on.”

She laughs and takes another bite before looking down at her phone. “Holy shit. It’s almost six thirty. How are either of us awake?”

“I’m fueled by anger, sadness, and the conversation of an incredibly charming woman.”

His brows wiggle with his words, his smile more of a smirk, and in any other situation, she’d have the urge to slap him.

“I’m going to be dead inside today.”

“I should probably let you go to bed, Swan. I’m sure you’ve got plans today that require sleep.”

“Yeah, I do. I – ”

Almost as if on cue, Henry’s door creaks open, and he walks out into the living room. His hair is disheveled like it always is when he wakes up, and now he is officially missing both socks.

Why can kids not sleep in?

“I’m hungry,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes. “Can we have pancakes? With the faces on them?”

“Kid, I – ”

“I can make them,” Killian interrupts. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“Um, yeah,” Emma nods. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m going to make some coffee, and then I’ll help. Henry, go brush your teeth.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m going to check to make sure you actually did.”

Henry groans, and Emma hears Killian chuckle. “I was exactly the same as a lad. So, pancakes with faces on them? Where do I find the ingredients?”

-/-

The pancakes are really good.

Much better than the ones she makes, which seems impossible when the recipe is on the box.

And Killian is fantastic at entertaining Henry’s questions, even when Henry asks about Killian’s gloved hand. He makes up some story about being attacked by Peter Pan and being like Captain Hook, and it helps Emma be a little less mortified that her child has no manners.

So on no sleep and a slight hangover, Emma has breakfast with her kid and a half-stranger, and it’s not the worst thing in the world.

It’s actually kind of nice.

And when Killian leaves to catch a train home, he slips her a note with his phone number. He leaves the ball in her court, which she likes, and even though it takes a few weeks, she does end up calling.

Well, texting. It’s easier that way.

Really, the whole thing is easy, and Emma is as surprised by that as anyone. For once in her life, she has hope that something is going to work out.

-/-

Next year Valentine’s Day is spent eating pizza with Killian and Henry with the only acknowledgement of the day being Henry giving the two of them the leftover cards from his class.

It’s perfect.

The year after that Killian doesn’t have to travel five hours to see them.

That’s somehow more than perfect.

“Can we say that our anniversary is Valentine’s Day, love?” Killian asks her as his lips press into her temple.

“Never,” she sighs, “but maybe the day isn’t as bad as it used to be.”

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Twenty Five

Draco had become sparse since returning to Hogwarts. Ron only saw him whenever he was in the Great Hall, or in potions. Both were too crowded to even corner the git. 

Of course, he could ask Harry for the map, but that would raise suspicions. Something he wasn’t willing to do yet. 

Other than that, the month since arriving back has been what Ron could only describe as routine. Wake up. Eat breakfast. Go to class. Eat lunch. Avoid Lavender. Maybe dinner. Quidditch. Do patrols. Terrible nightmares. Repeat. 

In all honesty, he was doing whatever he could to avoid anyone but Harry and Ginny. People so often offhandedly mentioned her, it made him tick. 

“Ah, Harry, do you know when Miss Granger will be back? I’ve missed her at dinners.” Slughorn would question every now and again. 

“Oi! Dreaming of Granger again?” Seamus would ask as Ron groaned her name in his sleep. 

“Did you send my last letter out to Hermione?” Neville would say every time he saw Hedwig. 

“Ron, if patrols are too much, we can always get an interim prefect until Hermione’s back.��� Katie Bell would tell him. 

But what he thinks may be worse, is the pitiful stares of those who knew the truth McGonagall wouldn’t even berate him for late work. Dumbledore always gave him a sad smile. His family's letters were always full of concern for his state. Said letters had little update on the Order, souring his mood. 

His mother would ask him what he wanted for his birthday, which was only about a week away now. She couldn’t give him what he wanted though. 

His father would write and tell him they’ve placed wards at the Granger’s and currently have an Auror team dedicated to her case. But it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing was. 

Times like those, he had nearly shared his suspicions with his father on Draco Malfoy, but soon decided against it. 

All he had were silly dreams, a weird instance on the train, and the knowledge of the git spending all his time in the Room of Requirement. It wasn’t exactly concrete. It was nothing really. 

On the bright side, he supposes, he’s somehow avoided Lavender quiet well, but he still knows she’s talking of him. Telling people they’re together and whatnot. He just didn’t have the patience to deal with it right now. 

All these thoughts soon halted as a small Gryffindor first year came up to him, looking nervous. 

“You’re Ron Weasley?” The little boy asked. 

Ron nodded. He was after all on duty, so the kid could need help. 

“Someone in the common room gave me a knut to find you.” 

“Oh?” He questioned confused, “who?” 

The first year who he now recognized to be a little boy named Tommy who Hermione once helped him with his Potions work. 

The little boy flushed, “I’m not very good with names, but he said it was about, Hermi-“

“Hermione?” Ron cut off anxiously. 

He nodded, “Prefect Granger.” He settled for. 

“Okay, thanks so much Tommy!” He called, racing to the common room, somewhere he’s avoided for weeks. 

In the excitement that Harry knows something it didn’t even dawn on him that he’s the most famous wizard in Britain, so surely Tommy would know his name. No, he doesn’t have time to think about that. 

“Honeysuckle!” He called to the Fat Lady. 

“Oh! Been a while!” She said smiling to Ron. 

He groaned, “Honeysuckle!” 

“Calm down! And I try to be polite.” She huffed, swinging open. 

Quickly, he climbed through looking around for Harry. 

“Oh Weasley. There you are.” 

His face dropped. 

Harry wasn’t looking for him. Not at all. 

“I see you got my message from Tommy. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, but you’re not an easy man to find.” 

Ron’s fists clench at his sides. 

“Or when Cormac McLaggan groped her after Slughorn’s this weekend! Tore her dress and all!” 

His eyebrow twitched at the memory. 

“No one around here will give me an answer you see. I’ve asked just about the entire tower when Granger will be back. Figured you’d give me a straight answer. You and I seem to have her in common.” McLaggen winked. 

And before he could help it, Ron’s fist connected with his nose, making him fall to the floor. 

Nearby, people gasped at the sight. Unbeknownst to Ron, Neville was there and soon scurried away to get Harry. 

From below, Cormac began laughing. “Touchy subject, eh?” He wiped his bloodied nose, “she talked about you, you know. At Slughorn’s. I, of course, was able to take her mind off you.” He propped up on his elbows, staring Ron right in the eyes. 

“Didn’t know she’d be such a good fu-“ 

Before the words left his mouth, Ron dove on the floor and punched his cheek. Next, he grasped at his collar. 

“I know what you did to her! You thought you could get away with something like that, huh?” He bit out in a dangerous whisper, laced with venom. 

Though scared, Cormac didn’t back down, “I just did what you never could.” With that, he threw Ron off and hit him squarely in the eye. 

“I would never, ever, treat anyone, especially her, that way.” He growled, trying to push the seventh year off, “you don’t touch her!” He bellowed.  

“Oh so watching you run around with Lavender Brown made Granger the happiest bird in Gryffindor. I don’t think so.” He commented. The whole tower knew about Ron and Hermione’s fall out. 

“That’s not the same and you know it!” He defended, kicking him in the groin. 

McLaggen cowered in pain for a moment before moving to punch Ron again. 

By now they’ve drawn a crowd. 

“Run her off, have you Weasley?” He said in between blows. 

“You fucker.” Ron grunted, landing one more blow. 

“Ron!” Harry had finally arrived, per Neville. 

They kept at it. Rolling around. 

“Ron!” He called again. 

Ron could vaguely hear Harry but ignored him. This felt good. Way too good. For the first time since Hermione disappeared he felt like he was doing something. 

“Ron!” A voice, not Harry’s, yelled, grabbing his attention. 

Looking up, he found Lavender standing there in shock. 

“Ronald Weasley, I cannot believe you!” She shrieked. 

Someone had dragged Cormac away, leaving Ron to stand and face her. 

“Come on mate.” Harry says, dragging him up. 

“Oh no, he’s not going anywhere.” Lavender claimed, crossing her arms and standing between them and the steps. 

“I don’t really see why this concerns you.” Ron grunted, wiping some blood with the back of his sleeve. 

“Concerns me? I think it does considering you're my boyfriend!” She yells. 

“Boyfriend?” He questions, “I made it perfectly clear to you what we were on the train!” 

“And I told you-“ she began to retort angrily. 

“What? You told me what? That I couldn’t break up with you. That even though I told you it was over, you just denied it! Didn’t you think there was a reason I avoided you for weeks?” 

The pair of them ignored the crowd forming. Anxiously, Harry continued tugging at Ron’s robes, but he just shrugged him off. 

“This is about her, isn’t it?” She said knowingly with slanted eyes. 

Harry knew the mentioning of Hermione did Ron no good. He continuously called out his name. 

“Don’t bring her into this. Don’t.” He warned, voice dangerously low. 

“So it is?” She fired back. 

“Look Lavender, I’m sorry, okay? I really am. I tried for weeks to break it off with you, and you know it!” Sure Lavender was a bit of a ditz, but she wasn’t by any means a moron, “and I should’ve done it sooner. After that night of the match, honestly, and for that I’m sorry. But when I finally bucked up the courage to end it, you said no, so you can’t blame this on Hermione. You put yourself here.” He told her honestly. 

“No,” she repeated, tone similar to the one she used on the train, “no because if you weren’t so hung up on that-that Mud-“

“Don’t finish that.” Ginny called from over Lavender’s shoulders. “Ron would never, but I will slap you silly.”  

“Great now you have your sister fighting your battles!” She snorted. 

“Well Ginny’s right, don’t ever say that word. Ever.” Ron told her fiercely. 

“Again, defending her! Tell me Ron, if you want to ruin everything we had for her, then where is she huh? Where is she?” 

He said nothing, mood suddenly shifting. 

“If you care so much and you’re so desperate to be her knight in shining armor, then where is she?” 

Again, he stood still. 

“Maybe McLaggen was right. You did run her off, didn’t you?” Lavender laughed menacingly. 

“No. No I didn’t.” He almost whimpered. 

“Whatever, if she were here I would tell her that she’s nothing but a no-good-boyfriend-stealing slag!” She exclaimed. 

“I said to stop it!” Ron yelled back. 

“What’d she do? Hex you? Confund you? Tell you she’d do all your homework?” She accused, “or maybe-“

“I love her!” He admitted. 

The whole room went silent. 

Harry’s hand slackened on his robes. Ginny’s mouth hung open. Gasps filled the air. 

“Alright, I’m sorry if that hurts you, but I can’t help that. I love her.” He takes a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair, “I’ve been in love with her for years. It’s- I’ve tried not to, but I can’t. I just can’t stop.” Ron said, voice riddled with vulnerability. 

He’d never have the courage to do something like this knowing someone could run off and tell Hermione as much. But now, now, he didn’t have anything to lose, did he?  

It’s not like Bellatrix Lestrange would report the incident back to Hermione, wherever the hell she is. 

Suddenly a harsh sting bloomed over his cheek. 

Lavender pulled her hand away, shaking it slightly as it stung from slapping him so hard. 

“We’re done.” She claimed before stomping upstairs. 

It takes a few moments to register everything that just happened. 

Beating up McLaggen. Breaking it off with Lavender. Proclaiming his love to Hermione to over half of Gryffindor. Lavender finally accepting it’s done. 

“Bugger off or I’ll give the lot of you detention!” Ron yelled to the crowd as he rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. 

Scared, the students scampered back to their respective tasks. 

“That,” Ginny breathed to her brother, “that was epic.” She said a little dazed. 

“Yeah, cheers.” Ron grimaced as he began to throb all over. The initial adrenaline wearing off as both the slap from Lavender and punches from McLaggen began to throb. 

“Come on, we better get you cleaned up.” Harry said, pushing him to the steps, “later Gin.” He called. 

Wordlessly, Ron let Harry’s hand guide him up the steps. 

“Did that really just happen?” Harry whispered a little astonished. 

“Which part? The one where beat up McLaggen. Or maybe when I rowed with Lavender in front of everyone. Oh, how about when I admitted I loved Hermione to the whole buggering tower.” Ron grumbled. 

“All of it.” Harry said with a slight chuckle as he set Ron onto his bed and searched his trunk for a flannel. 

“I reckon McGonagall will be around soon, giving me detention or something.” The ginger groaned in realization. 

Harry shrugged and walked over, “You really think McLaggen would tell and fess up to what he did that night?” 

The cold cloth fell on his cheek, Ron winced. 

“It’s not like Hermione’s here to explain herself. Is she?” He pointed out. 

“McGonagall will believe you. She gets that Hermione can’t be here and that she doesn’t know if she’ll be back.” 

The word ‘if’ echoes in Ron’s head. When, Harry meant when. 

“If?” A voice questions. 

It’s not Ron or Harry’s 

Soon, they turn. 

Neville stands in the doorway. Concern written all over his face. Practically demanding answers with his eyes alone. 

“Hermione might not be back?” He questioned, walking further into the room, ignoring their stunned faces. 

They sat still again, not knowing what to say. Never have they seen such fire behind Neville’s eyes. 

Ron and Harry jumped when he slammed the door. 

“Oi listen up and listen good,” he demanded, voice never wavering, “Hermione may be your friend, but she’s mine too, alright! And I may be daft but I’m not stupid!” Neville cried out. 

“The lot of you have been acting weird since holiday ended. I know Hermione is quite a touchy subject for you Ron, but don’t think I noticed how angry you got on the train. Or you Harry! You’re a terrible liar.” He pointed out. 

“Neville-“ Harry interrupted. 

“No! Harry I’ve given you what, six letters since we’ve been here? Six! And not once reply. You don’t even send Hedwig out the window. My bed,” he points to it for good measure, “is right next to yours, I’m not dumb!” 

“Mate-“ Ron now interjects. 

“And you!” He points to the ginger, “We’ve shared the same room for six years. I've heard you moaning Hermione’s name in your sleep for over half of that! You think I can’t stop the difference?” At least he has the decency to flush, “now, now it’s different. You’re practically screaming for her. I see when Harry wakes you up, tears down your face. Hell, it pierces your silencing charms.” 

The pair exchange a look. They never figured Neville would be the one to figure it out, well that’s not entirely true. They just didn’t think he’d be bold enough to confront them. 

“So I’m asking you, not only as your friend, but Hermione’s too. Would someone please just tell me what the hell is going on!” Neville finishes with a huff. 

His eyes flick between Ron and Harry waiting for a response. Soon, Harry averts his gaze to Ron, who sits for a moment, before nodding slowly. 

“You’re right Neville, we haven’t been honest.”The chosen admits. 

The brunette huffs a gasp of air, “I knew it. This would’ve been a bit awkward if I was wrong.” He says like himself again. 

“Look mate, Dumbledore told us not to tell anyone, you have to swear you won’t say anything.” Ron says seriously. 

“I swe-“ 

“This is life or death, I mean it.” He added. 

“I swear.” Neville states, tone leaving no room for argument. 

Weasley then looks to Harry to explain, not having the heart to. 

“On Christmas Hermione was taken by,” he gulps, eyeing his friend thoughtfully, “by Bellatrix Lestrange.” 

A pained look comes across Neville’s face at the mention of her name. That woman’s caused enough hurt to last him a lifetime. To last anybody a lifetime. 

“No.” He breathed. 

Sadly, Harry nodded, “she came to the Burrow and-“ 

“H-h,”

He briefly eyed the room then shoved it away, thinking he was just hearing things. 

“Harry.”

No, it can’t be. He must be losing it. 

“Mate?” Ron asks worriedly. 

“Ha-Harry P-Potter.” 

This time it’s louder. It sounds so un-Hermione like, but deep down he knows it’s her. 

He stands from the bed shushing Ron with a wave of his arm. 

“Harry J-James Po-Potter.”

“Hermione.” Harry breathes before he can help himself, willing Ron to stand and give his friend his full attention. 

“T-the b-boy,”

“You’re so close.” He whispers through gritted teeth. 

It’s louder now, almost piercing his skull. The pain coming is familiar, but somehow welcome. He knows she needs him. 

“The boy who lived.” 

At this, the dark haired boy falls to a heap on the floor. Thrashing about as he clutches his temples. 

“A pillow Neville, now!” Ron shouts. 

Neville obeys and props one underneath their friends head. 

This time doesn’t last long. Only a few seconds. 

When Harry comes to, his eyes burst open as he gasps for air, sitting up. 

He soon meets Ron’s worried eyes and he can only say one word. The very same Hermione was crying out to him. 

“Malfoy.”

[thedeathdeelers]

My word is...

✨dancing✨

(Btw there’s absolutely no pressure to get this done, I really don’t mind)

OKAY

i FINALLY DID IT. I FINISHED IT. at 12:45am. on a tuesday. when i have to wake up in 5 hours for work. whatever.

okay so this may not be exactly about dancing per se, the word still inspired me to write this so..::i hope you like it!🤗

you can also find it on my AO3

————

childhood crushes

“So you’re sure it’s in one of these?”

Julie’s eyes remained focused on the notebook balanced on her knee, skimming through the never ending lines of poems and lyrics covering every page as she answered Luke.

“Yes! I swear, I remember working on something similar with my mom a few years before she- A few years ago. If we can find it, we won’t have to start from scratch.”

Feeling a little stiff, Julie leaned back, her eyes never leaving the pages, as she rested against the foot of her bed, stretching her legs out in front of her. They had been sitting on her bedroom floor all morning, surrounded by piles of scattered old notebooks of varying colours.

“I know, but we’ve been up here for ages and we haven’t even taken any breaks yet.” She could almost hear Luke’s pout as he continued, sitting cross legged and leaning against her closet door. “I’m nearly done with my stack. Maybe we should just consider focusing on one of our other songs for now? Come back to this one later?”

Julie shook her head as she looked up, her eyes needing a second to readjust.

“I’m telling you Luke, we’ll find it. I won’t be able to work on anything else unless I get this melody out of my head. I know I can find the lyrics. They’re definitely here. Plus we’ve pretty much gone through the majority of my notebooks - there’s barely a few left. We’ll be done before it’s time to head down for band rehearsal, chill.”

Without waiting for a reply, Julie lowered her gaze back down, quickly finding her spot on the page she was in and resuming her search. Luke shook his head at the stubborn girl sitting across from him, a small smile touching his lips. He knew there was no point in arguing with a Julie that had already set her mind to something. Adjusting his sitting position to avoid cramping (who knew ghosts still had to deal with pins and needles, eh?), he dived back into the book in his lap.

It stayed quiet for a while after that, only sounds of paper crinkling under fingers, and soft whispers of words being spoken disturbing the peace.

That is, until disaster struck.

“Uh, Jules, why does this notebook have “Julie hearts Casper” written all over it?”

Julie was so focused on the poem she was reading, that Luke’s words took a few good seconds to fully sink in. But when they did, her head snapped up while her heart sank, the blood draining from her face. It would have been funny if she wasn’t the one panicking right now. Her eyes, now as wide as saucers, zeroed in on the offending journal, balanced on Luke’s left knee. She had completely forgotten about that.

“It’s nothing! Nothing just a- a- a pet’s name! Yes! We had a dog named uh Casper and I really loved him.”

She scrambled up, the notebook she had been so focused on only a few moments ago hitting the floor with a soft thud. She quickly reached Luke’s side, swiping the journal off his knee and out of his reach.

“I thought you guys never had any pets? What with your dad’s allergies?”

Julie froze on her way back to her spot by her bed, having completely forgotten that her dad, who she’s literally known her whole life, was allergic to dogs. Trust Luke to remember that tiny, throwaway detail, but completely “forget” that her dream box was out of bounds.

She slowly resumed her half hop trek to her spot, avoiding the minefield of papers and journals, making sure Luke couldn’t see her face for as long as possible. Her mind, on the other hand, was busy hastily trying to come up with a plausible excuse.

“Yeah, we uh- we had Casper for a week before we found out Dad was allergic. Had to give him away after that.” Julie held the journal tight against her chest as she turned back around to face Luke now that she was at a safe distance.

Luke’s eyebrows lifted, disappearing under his beanie. The disbelief on his face was palpable. He could always see straight through her.

“So you’re telling me that your dad didn’t know he was allergic to dogs until he was in his thirties?”

“He was still in his late twenties, thank you very much!”

“Jules, you know that’s not my point.”

“The point is we had a dog, I loved him very much and then he was gone. It was a sad time, can we just move on?”

He was still looking at her sceptically, but nodded his head regardless, diverting his attention to the dwindling pile of notebooks yet to be explored, spread out on the floor next to him.

Julie was just glad Luke hadn’t noticed the little ghost doodles decorating the spine of the notebook. She plopped back onto the floor, sneakily pushing the accursed nightmare under her bed.

It was only half an hour later however, just as her heart had finally reached a normal tempo, when Luke spoke up again.

“So, Casper huh? You guys really named a dog after a ghost?”

Trying hard not to groan out loud, Julie forced her features to adapt a natural expression, before lifting her face towards her band mate.

“Yes. Mom had just introduced me to the movie, and the name was still fresh in my mind.” She could see that he was still not buying her story, but there was nothing she could do. She was definitely not about to spill the truth to him.

Luke scratched his head, his beanie shifting with the movement.

“I see. So the little ghost doodles down the side there, have nothing to do with the actual friendly ghost? The one from the Casper movie released in the summer of 1995?” He was pointing in the general direction of where she had thought she had managed to carefully dispose of the journal. Apparently not.

Julie could feel her cheeks getting warmer, and curse it all, Luke had definitely noticed. That damn smirk.

“Not to mention the ghost painted on the back pocket of your favourite pair of jeans.

She threw her head back, bouncing slightly against her mattress as her hands flew up to hide her warm face. Luke chuckled.

“Fine! This is mortifying, but fine! I had a crush on Casper as a kid, okay? Happy?” Her voice came out muffled, her palms pressing hard against the horrified expression taking centre stage.

But not even a few seconds later, did she feel hands wrapping themselves around her wrists and pulling her fingers away from her face. She hadn’t even heard him move. She kept her eyes closed, scrunching her eyelids together as tightly as she could. Maybe if she thought of it hard enough, her carpeted flooring would eventually swallow her up?

“So, you had a thing for ghosts, huh?”

She could hear the barely suppressed glee in his voice, making her eyes pop open in disbelief.

“Ugh! This is why I don’t tell you everything!” Now that her eyes were open, she didn’t know where to look. Maybe over his left shoulder?

A soft chuckle made its way out of his mouth.

“Aw, come on Julie! This is actually pretty cute. Kinda feels like fate, huh?”

“Really?” She deadpanned. Her eyes diverted to his face of their own accord.

“I mean, he’s a ghost from a movie from the 90s, the girl has the hots for him even though he’s clearly dead...I’m getting similar vibes here.”

“He was just a floating orb!”

He tried to cut her off with a sly “As opposed to cute air?” But she continued speaking over him, wanting to defend her old childhood crush.

“It was an emotional connection. A deep connection, exploring different emotions and representations of love, resulting in some pretty iconic lines and moments in the movie.” She sounded a little hysterical, a little ridiculous. But the whole situation she currently found herself in was ridiculous in and of itself, so there really wasn’t much pride left for her to hold onto anymore.

Luke hummed at her reply, his eyes brimming with humour.

“Thought about it a lot, have you?”

“Ugh! You’re impossible. Fine. You might as well know. It was my favourite movie for a long time. I’d watch it whenever I was having a bad day or whatever.” She shrugged, casting her eyes downwards towards her lap where their hands lay; his fingers still locked around her wrists. She knew she wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Was?”

“Yeah, well...It started hitting too close to home a few years ago so I just.. stopped.”

Understanding dawned on him, as she felt more than saw, the energy leave him in one fell swoop. She chanced another look at his eyes, and saw that the humour previously taken up residence had now shifted to something softer.

“Julie I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that, I-“

“No, no Luke really. It’s fine. I’m okay now. I haven’t felt the need to watch any comfort movies or shows lately anyway. Maybe I’ll even revisit it sometime soon, who knows. See it with a fresh set of eyes.” She gave him a small smile as she tilted her head to the side. “Honestly, don’t worry about it.” After a beat of silence, Julie grasped at the chance to steer the conversation away from anymore embarrassing questions.

“Do you think we could stop looking through these for now? I’m getting hungry, and it’s nearly time for practice so...” She gestured towards the mess on her floor.

“Yeah, of course.” Luke looked at her for another second, checking that she really was okay, before letting go of her wrists and jumping up. He then extended his hand down to her, waiting to pull her up with him.

As she got up, she couldn’t help but appreciate how sensitive Luke could be when it came to her feelings. She reached up on her tiptoes, and sneaked a quick peck on his cheek, before pulling him along with her, leaving the mess of notebooks (and hopefully that whole topic of conversation) behind them.

——

A few days had passed, and Luke hadn’t brought up the movie again. She had assumed he had forgotten, or at least accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to get much more out of her concerning that topic. Or maybe he even felt bad. But then a week later, while Julie was sat in the studio on her own (a rare occurrence), she was proven wrong.

She was sat on one of the armchairs, scribbling away furiously in their songbook, inspiration having finally struck. She was so focused, her hands gliding through the page as she hurried to get every word down, that she barely glanced at Luke when he popped into existence to her right.

She didn’t even notice when he moved to stand in front of her, knees nearly knocking into hers.

“Okay! So I finally figured out the second vers-“ Julie looked up, stopping mid-sentence as she finally took in the sight of the boy standing in front of her.

“Can I have this dance?”

“Luke? Why are you dressed like that?”

“Humour me, Julie. Dance with me?”

The fact that there was no music currently playing was on the tip of her tongue, but Julie held back. She takes a few seconds to reply though, too busy drinking in the sight in front of her. He had his hand outstretched towards her, dressed in black pants and a white dress-shirt. She was hyper aware of the fact that he was dressed in the near exact way she had imagined him during her imaginary Perfect Harmony routine. The only difference was his hair - but she had to concede to the fact that he looked better this way. It was 100% Luke, and she wouldn’t have him any other way.

Putting her notebook with the pencil tucked inside on the coffee table to her right, she reaches over towards Luke, taking his proffered hand.

He pulls her up, just like he did in her bedroom the other day, and guides her to the centre of the studio. They stand there, staring at each other for a few seconds before a song starts playing on the old garage stereo - the same one that had brought them, him, to her in the first place.

every now and then,

we find a special friend,

who never lets us down

who understands it all

reaches out each time we fall

you’re the best friend that i’ve found

I know you can’t stay,

a part of you will never ever go away,

your heart will stay

Luke reaches over to grab her other hand, lifting both up to his shoulders. Once settled, he lets go and finds her waist, pulling her in a little closer. Following his lead, Julie wraps her arms around his neck, her eyes focused solely on his. She listens to the song that is playing, gently swaying from side to side with the boy in her arms.

She cocks her head to the side as she tries to figure out why the melody and words sounded so familiar to her.

“This song sounds so familiar? Like I’ve heard it so many times but I just can’t place...” As her sentence dies on her lips, a small gasp is heard escaping her. Julie’s eyes widen as memories of her younger self listening to this song and swaying along in her mother’s arms flood her mind.

All the while, Luke’s eyes are intent on hers, reading her reactions. His hands resting on her hips, slide past her hips towards her lower back, his arms fully wrapping themselves around her, pulling her closer to his chest.

“You didn’t!” Her eyes still wide, still unbelieving.

“I figured of all the things I could actually accomplish as a ghost, any childhood dreams you might have had - this might actually be it.” He shrugged, his shoulders moving under her hands. His grin turned boyish. “Plus I didn’t like the idea of another ghost having a hold on your heart.”

Julie has to try hard to focus on the questions she wanted answered, and not on his sweet confessions.

“But- I assumed you guys never got to watch the movie? It came out around the time you were too focused on the band and the gigs, and then...” She let the rest of her sentence trail off, never too comfortable mentioning their early demise.

“I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” She felt his shoulders shift up and down again. He shook his head at her as he continued. “I gotta say Jules, you really know how to pick ‘em.” She could see the mirth brimming in his eyes, his lips twitching as he tried to keep his amusement under control.

Julie’s eyes narrowed at him, even as she tried to keep her own smile from forming on her lips.

“Girls are all about that star crossed lovers’ life. Add in a dash of supernatural? Absolute dream.” She moved her hand, gesturing wildly to convey her (ridiculous, but secretly truthful) point.

Luke chuckled at that, the laughter finally spilling out of him.

“Lucky for me then, eh?”

Julie’s eyes softened, her mouth curling into that special smile she only ever reserved for him. She stood on her tiptoes, her lips a hair’s breadth away from his.

“Who said I wasn’t the lucky one?”

They stayed that way for a few seconds, still moving slowly from side to side as they stared at each other. They were so close they were breathing the same air. And just when Julie was about to close the distance, Luke shifted, tracing his lips across her cheek, her jaw, until they hovered by her ear, warm breath sending shivers down her spine.

And then he whispered to her the four words she had been dreaming of hearing ever since she was a little girl.

“Can I keep you?”

FIN

[drarryangels]

I’m a new follower and I love your acc. You don’t have to do this but- an au where every student gets re-sorted each year because morals change. Most people stay in the same house their whole life, but there’s an occasional ravenclaw turned hufflepuff. Harry has always been almost sorted into slytherin, and every year he turned down, getting placed in Gryffindor. By eighth year he just doesn’t care anymore and imagine Draco Malfoy’s reaction when the golden boy gets sorted into his house.

Thank you so much for this prompt! It was really interesting to think about, and I definitely think the re-Sorting would’ve made more sense for canon but you know whatever. Sorry this is so late!! It took me foreeeever to write this. Hope you like it.<3

ps. if someone knows how answer box things work pls message me and lmk. srsly. idk how to do the keep reading and tags on ask box prompts. 

Year 1:

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” A pointy faced boy held out his hand to Harry.

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks,” Harry said, glaring up at Malfoy.

Malfoy sniffed and walked away just as a tall woman with a tight bun strode up to the top of the stairs.

“We are ready for you,” she said, smiling stiffly, and beckoning the crowd of tiny first years after her.

Harry’s stomach churned with anticipation in what was awaiting him wherever this strict teacher was taking them. Professor McGonagall, he thought her name was. In any case, he was just hoping he wasn’t going to get kicked out of school before the first day of classes. It seemed likely for someone like him. He had never been worth much. Although, maybe he could change that here, away from the Dursleys and his old school.

Professor McGonagall stopped in front of a set of large oak doors and turned to smile slightly at the first years before pushing the doors open.

Harry’s eyes widened as the doors opened, revealing a great hall full of students. Four long tables lined the room, with one table heading the room, where the teachers must sit. Every table was heavily laden with glimmering plates and sparkling silverware, the likes of which Harry had never seen. Mass amounts of staring eyes lasered down on Harry, making his face flush up in a wave of heat. His vision waved and dotted in front of him with the heat of the eyes, and he looked down hurriedly at his feet.

“Potter, Harry,” Professor McGonagall said after a long list of names.

Harry looked down even further at his feet, wishing desperately for everyone to disappear. Or, even better, for himself to disappear. Unfortunately, no such thing happened, and Harry walked up slowly to Professor McGonagall, where she held a mangy, trembling hat.

Malfoy’s snickering whisper followed Harry all the way up until he sat on the stool in front of the whole student body. Harry’s knees knocked shakily as the hat was put down over his eyes.

“Hmmm,” a rough voice sounded in his ear. It took Harry a moment before he realized the voice belonged to the hat speaking to him in his head. “Not Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff? No… too much desire to prove yourself. In that case, Slytherin would be a good choice.”

“Not Slytherin, please,” Harry whispered.

“Not Slytherin, eh?” the hat responded.

“Not Slytherin.”

“Well, alright then, better be… GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry sighed in relief and nearly ran down to the Gryffindor table to sit next to the new red haired friend he had made, the one with the big family. Oh, yeah. Ron.

Harry smiled as the Sorting finished up. Malfoy had gotten Slytherin, of course. He really was going to turn out rotten.

Year 2:

“I can’t believe we didn’t get expelled,” Harry muttered to Ron, climbing up the stairs to the common room.

“Me neither,” Ron said, his mouth still full of the sandwiches Professor McGonagall had given them.

The two walked in silence along the corridors of Hogwarts up to the common room until a familiar nasty smirk caught Harry’s eye as they passed the passageway that split up to the Ravenclaw tower.

“Malfoy,” Harry said flatly.

“Potter,” Malfoy snorted. “Enjoy your ride to Hogwarts?”

Harry started forward, but Malfoy stepped back, the green crest on his robes flashing up at Harry. Harry shook his head and walked away with one last glare thrown over his shoulder.

“Doesn’t surprise me a bit he got Slytherin again,” Ron said, finally finished with his sandwiches.

“Again?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, “we’re all re-Sorted every year, although the older students are Sorted separately from the first years. Wish I knew where but…” Ron trailed down, looking down at the snapped wand held in his hand.

“It’ll be alright, Ron,” Harry said, pulling him along to hurry up to Gryffindor tower. Ron scoffed as he was dragged along.

“There you two are,” Hermione said from behind them as they reached the portrait hole.

“Hermione!” Ron said, his face lifting.

“Save it, Ronald. I know what happened.”

“Hermione,” Harry began, “what are you doing here?”

“Waiting up for you,” Hermione sniffed. “You can’t as well get into the common room without the password, now can you?”

Harry and Ron looked down at their feet. Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled slightly.

“Come on, boys. McGonagall is waiting to re-Sort you. Honestly. She’s been sitting on my armchair for the last half hour.”

Once Harry was sat down on a chair with the Sorting Hat on his head and more than a few eyes watching carefully, the Sorting Hat began again.

“Mr. Potter. Still want Gryffindor, yes?”

“Er..yes. Not Slytherin.”

“Gryffindor,” the hat said tiredly to the room.

Year 3:

“Not Sly-”

“Not Slytherin. I got it Potter,” the Sorting Hat grumbled. “Can’t understand why you hate it so much. Never thought I’d say this to you, but you’re sounding a little prejudiced.”

Me? Prejudiced? Harry thought.

“Yes, you. I’m sure the Weasleys have told you plenty about Slytherins, but foul wizards end up in all Houses, Potter. You would do well to remember that.”

What do you mean?

“Better be….”

No, wait!

“GRYFFINDOR!”

A collective whoop rose up from the Gryffindors as Harry walked out of the side room and took his usual place at the Gryffindor table.

Ron was already seated and was happily chattering with Seamus about his summer holidays in Egypt, while Dean dozed off with his head propped on Seamus’s arm.

Hermione walked out of the side room, her face tipped with crimson, and Harry waved her over, hoping for someone to talk to. Hermione gave him a small wave as she walked straight past him.

Huh? Did Hermione not want to sit next to him? Harry was trying to think of what he might’ve done wrong when Hermione sat by herself at the Ravenclaw table. Ron had stopped talking and was staring gobsmacked at where Hermione was now sitting.

“You’re joking me,” Ron said, stunned.

Harry just stared.

“I mean we all knew she would end up there, I suppose,” Ron said with his mouth still hanging open. “But still. Some part of me thought she would always be in Gryffindor.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. He looked down at his empty plate. A sinking feeling filled Harry’s stomach. Anticipation for this year climbed up his throat as he realized how different this year would be without Hermione over their shoulders in the common room constantly. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice when Draco Malfoy emerged from the side re-Sorting room and sat down across from Hermione at the Ravenclaw table.

Ron noticed though.

“But that’s Draco Malfoy,” he gasped.

Harry looked, and sure enough, Hermione was glaring at Draco from across the Ravenclaw table.

He looked at her, said something, and then looked down.

Ron started up from the table, but Harry grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back down.

“No, Ron. Look.”

Draco Malfoy was shaking hands with Hermione Granger from across the table. He wasn’t smiling, but when his robes shimmered and changed from green to blue, he didn’t look completely displeased either.

Harry thought about what the Sorting Hat had said to him about not all bad wizards being Slytherin. This year really was going to be different.

Year 4:

“I don’t know why you two have got your knickers in such a twist,” Hermione said with annoyance as they filed into the re-Sorting room once again. “I thought last year went fine even when we were in different houses. We just spent less time in our common rooms, and more time in the library.”

“I wouldn’t consider that an improvement,” Ron grumbled. He was lucky Hermione hadn’t quite heard him.

“Look,” Hermione said. “Ron, I know you’re upset about this because of Draco-”

“Draco?” Ron’s face was full of disgust.

“Yes, Draco,” Hermione glared. “I don’t know why you’re so fussed about it. Even him and Harry are polite now. Granted, they’re not friends. But they’re civil at least. Why can’t you give him a chance?”

“Are you kidding?” Ron said, his voice rising. “He called you a- a you-know-what, and is a jerk! He tormented us first and second year! You can just ignore that?”

“He apologized! You don’t know what it’s like for him!” Hermione huffed.

“Oh, I sure don’t. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be hopelessly rich and to have everything I need whenever I need it.”

“Ron,” Hermione said in a warning voice.

“Seriously, Hermione! He’s like your new best friend or something!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Hermione said, color rising quickly on her face. “You two are my best friends. No one’s going to replace you. You know that. He’s just a friend. Among some of my other Ravenclaw friends. You don’t complain about them!”

“Because they’re not evil!”

“He’s not like that anymore, Ron,” Harry said quietly.

Ron fell quiet. “You too, then?” Harry stayed silent until Ron stormed off.

Draco Malfoy chose that moment to walk by and wave at Hermione. He sent a nod in Harry’s direction, who returned the gesture.

“Long year ahead of us, hm?” Hermione said, looking after Ron.

“I’ve got a feeling,” Harry nodded.

Year 5:

“Mate, you’ve got to stop going on about these invisible creatures,” Ron said across Gryffindor table.

“I just want to know what they are!” Harry said, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Loony Lovegood seemed to know,” Hermione snorted around a sip of her drink. She was looking well and happy with a Gryffindor tie hung loosely around her neck.

“Leave her alone,” Malfoy said, coming to sit next to Hermione. “Hullo, Hermione.”

“Hi, Draco. I know she’s nice, but still!”

“Malfoy,” Harry nodded and took a bite of his potatoes.

“Potter,” Malfoy said. “Weasley.”

Ron grunted and Malfoy raised his eyebrows and looked away.

“Lovely Sorting this year, wasn’t it?” Malfoy asked.

“Happy to be back in Slytherin, huh?” Ron said.

“Perfectly fine either way, thank you very much. Although I will be happy to avoid my father’s wrath this year,” Malfoy said.

Harry looked up sharply and stared at Malfoy at that.

“Your father’s wrath?” Harry asked, leaning forward subconsciously. Hermione nudged Harry in the side, although he didn’t seem to get the hint.

“Yes, Potter. My father’s wrath. Unlike your perfect life, we can’t all avoid being hit by our parents at the very slight of their whim,” Malfoy said offhandedly while reaching for the jug of pumpkin juice. Ron choked and Harry stared. Hermione put her hands over her face with a sigh.

“My perfect life?” Harry said.

“Yes,” Malfoy said sarcastically. “You, Potter. I know you really have it bad over there.”

“Malfoy. I live with my Muggle uncle and aunt.”

“I’m well aware,” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“They….” Harry hesitated.

“What, Potter?” Malfoy finally set his utensils down to look at Harry. “Spit it out.”

“They hit me, too. You shouldn’t assume things you don’t know about people’s lives,” Harry said quietly.

Hermione had stopped cold in her movements and Ron’s face was rapidly turning purple.

“Why did you never tell us?” Hermione said softly.

“Didn’t seem important,” Harry shrugged. Ron gripped his fork tighter.

“Oh boys,” Hermione closed her eyes and set one hand down over Malfoy’s hand and the other over Harry’s. “Less trouble this year, okay?”

“Sure, Hermione,” Harry said with a growing smile.

Year 6:

Harry sat down heavily on the stool he had sat on every year since coming to Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat was set on his head, and for the first time, it didn’t slip over his eyes. He closed his eyes anyway, squeezing them tightly until the Sorting Hat yelled out Gryffindor after a long deliberation.

“Where’s Malfoy?” Harry asked Hermione as he passed her seat at the Ravenclaw table. Hermione shrugged and pointed to the Slytherin table.

Malfoy sat completely alone with his head on his arms and a sad look etched into his features.

“What’s up with him?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Hermione sighed, standing up from the Ravenclaw table to join them at the Gryffindor table.

“Ravenclaw again?” Ron asked as she sat down.

“Yeah,” Hermione said.

“Where’s Draco?” Harry asked, looking around. A strange streak of nervousness spiked through his stomach.

“Slytherin table,” Hermione said. “He’s been ignoring me.” She shook her head and looked down with a distinct expression of concern.

“Ignoring you?” Harry said, still scanning the tables.

“Harry…. Are you…” Hermione paused. “Are you blushing?”

“Me? Blushing? No!” Harry stammered. But his face only heated up more and the nervousness settled into Harry’s stomach.

“Oh my god! He totally is!” Ron let out a bellow of laughter.

“Shut up!” Harry shoved Ron off his seat.

“Oh, Draco!” Harry called, standing up and waving as Draco’s blonde hair bobbed past the Gryffindor table in green robes.

“What do you want, filthy half blood?” Draco snarled as he passed. Harry sat down with a plunk and expression of shock.

“Draco?” said Ron, stunned.

“Don’t want to hear it, blood traitor.”

“Did he just…?” said Hermione.

“I thought he was….you know, on our side,” Ron said.

Harry sat blankly in his seat, his eyes following Draco across the Great Hall, and a look of sharp pain in his eyes.

With another swish of green robes, Draco was gone.

Year 7:

“I miss being at Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “All of the magic and wonder.”

“I miss the food,” Ron sighed.

“Oh, Ronald,” Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked over at Harry out of the corner of here eye. “Harry you’re going to have to talk to us at some point.”

Harry shrugged from his seat on the armchair where he was curled with his chin on his knees.

“Look,” Hermione knelt by the foot of Harry’s chair. “I know… I know you’re upset about Dumbledore still. And I know…that you miss Draco. And that you feel betrayed by what he did, but-”

“Please stop speaking to me as if I’m your patient, Hermione,” Harry turned his head away.

“Harry…”

“Please, Hermione.”

“Harry, you need to talk about how you’re feeling!”

“I’m scared, Hermione!” Harry sat up. “For him. I knew he got the Dark Mark, and he wouldn’t talk to me all year. Avoided me at every turn. Shoved me away. Every time. We had actually become friends, and he couldn’t even look me in the face. Now I can’t stop thinking about him at Hogwarts, surrounded by darkness and evil that he’s a part of!”

“Mate, he made his choice and you made yours,” Ron said. “I’m sorry to say this, and I get that you liked him, but you really need to get over that now.”

Harry shrugged and buried his face back in his knees. Hermione sat down next to Ron with a groan and leaned over.

“He loved him. You get that, don’t you? Harry loved Draco,” Hermione whispered.

“Loves him, more like,” Ron snorted.

“Sh! Either way. I don’t think he can get over him,” Hermione put her head in her hands.

“He’s going to have to.”

Year 8:

“It is wonderful to have you all back,” McGonagall  stood regally in front of the High Table. “Although we have experienced trying times for many years, our world, and your education, is now safe once more. Our annual re-Sorting for each year will take place in the same locations as always. First years are on their way, and their first Sorting will be witnessed by the whole student body. I’m sure some of you have noticed by now that we have some old faces for an extra year. An additional eighth year has been added on for those who missed out on their education the previous year.” McGonagall sniffed. “Let the re-Sorting commence?”

The freshly minted eighth years filed into the same old room for re-Sorting that they always had and waited quietly for the Sorting Hat to reach their room. Some quiet chattering filled the room, but for the most part, it was silent.

Harry could see Draco in the corner of the room. Thin and tired looking, with bruises under his eyes. Harry thought he would be angry when he saw Draco again, but there was nothing but the familiar swooping of his stomach and the flushing of his skin. It was almost infuriating how through everything, his reaction to Draco remained the same. Harry looked away quickly when McGonagall finally entered the room.

He waited patiently while the rest of his classroom was re-Sorted, most staying in the Houses they had always been in. Hermione was back in Gryffindor, which she seemed very happy about with Ron at her side. Neville also remained in Gryffindor, and Draco stayed in Slytherin. A nasty look flashed across his face when the Sorting Hat called Slytherin, but it was so fast that Harry was half convinced he had imagined it.

After what felt like hours, Harry’s name was called. The feeling of the Sorting Hat being set on his head was all too familiar.  

“Ah, Harry Potter yet again,” the Sorting Hat said, “vanquisher of the Dark Lord.”

It’s not all glory.

“Of course not. So what will it be this year? Gryffindor again?” the Sorting Hat sneered.

Harry left his mind blank for a moment.

To be honest, I really don’t care anymore.

“Really?” the Hat said interestedly. “Even if I said Slytherin?”

You know better than I do.

“Finally you admit it,” the Hat laughed. “SLYTHERIN!”

Harry opened his eyes to the stunned faces of his remaining classmates. Ron and Hermione both had their mouths wide open, and Neville had dropped his latest potted plant.

“Slytherin?” Harry heard someone mutter.

Harry’s eyes met Draco’s. His skin was whiter than usual, and his hands hung loose at his sides. His mouth was opening and closing as if he was choking on his own air.

“Hi,” Harry said, coming to stand in front of Draco.

“You’re in Slytherin,” Draco said, his voice scratchy.

“The Sorting Hat has been trying to put me in there for years,” Harry smiled a little stiffly.

The two stood in silence in front of each other until Draco finally looked down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Harry stood in silence, his eyes widening. “I did it to protect Hermione, and Weasley, and… you. I thought if I stayed away, they wouldn’t come after you. But then once I was there, they offered me so much. I was so stupid.” Draco threw his head back in annoyance with himself. “I thought they would really give me what they promised. Safety, happiness, riches, fame. And then those things never came and,” Draco’s voice came quicker, “and then they were threatening me, and hurting me, and I couldn’t back out. It was too late. I already had the Mark.”

“It’s okay,” Harry said quietly.

“No, it’s not,” Draco said.

“No, I guess you’re right,” Harry said. “It’s not okay. But I forgive you.”

Harry stepped a little closer and cautiously wrapped his arms around Draco in a hug. Draco straightened for a second before he hugged Harry back with loose arms. Harry held him a little closer and smiled.

Maybe this year, things might actually go the way Harry wanted them to.

[cultgambles]

Just The Girl

HMMM

I was listening to just the girl by the click five and idk man i was inspired ™ to write for roger.. Please be kind! This is my first fic for the guy…

Side note: I can never read x readers with real people bc i think it’s just weird but I can for roger? But like, I imagine him as Ben!Roger in specifically the movie and i guess it’s not real real? Anyway…enjoy

Requests are open (but i am slow) | i have a tag list too (she’s empty)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1711

“Roger, what was that performance? C’mon, you can’t hold Freddie–a-and the band back,” Paul chastised.

“Well I think he saw a girl in the crowd he fancies. They never come to our shows, why did they decide to come to this one? Of course, it’s the one that’s not as spectacular,” Freddie chuckled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roger replied haughtily, stalking off.

“He knows,” Freddie whispered loudly.

Roger made his way to a nearby bar he had happened to see passing by. He ordered a beer and watched a group of girls stumbling over each other to reach a girl on the dance floor. He squinted.

“Wait. [Y/N]?” he shouted. Her head popped up from the crowd and gave a sly smile, pushing past the people surrounding her.

“Rogah Tayla! Nice performance today.”

He took a sip of his beer, “Eh, could have been better.”

“Yeah, but the part where you go ‘ready Freddie?’ Mmm, I love that part.”

Roger smirked slightly, looking [Y/N] up and down. “So, will you let me take you home tonight?”

“Hm, no,” they laughed, “I’ve got my eye on a cute girl I saw earlier.” [Y/N] pointed towards the entrance was. There were at least five cute girls Roger could see.

“Which one?”

“The blonde.”

“I’m blonde.”

“In the red dress.”

“I’m wearing a red jacket.”

“What is this, Taylor?” [Y/N] watched the girls dance for a moment and bid him a quick farewell. “Got things to do, ya know how it is.”

“Abbey! Wanna get outta here?” he heard them yell. Watched them wrap their arms around the blond chick’s waste and watched them place a kiss to apparently Abbey’s temple. He saw them both giggle and step out of the bar.

Roger threw back his drink and slammed some cash on the counter.

The night air was cold, biting at the tip of his nose and eyelashes. He kicked at the pavement.  “Damn, that [Y/N]. How can she just lead me on like this? I mean, last week, we had a good bit of fun, but this week she acts like I don’t even exist. UGh! I’m sounding like a teenage girl. He thought of their laugher and was quickly pulled into a silent reverie.

“Wow, man, you’ve got it bad. We’ve been trying to get your attention for the past three minutes,” Brian coughed.

“How did I get back here so fast? I swear I was just outside the pub…”

“Bet he’s been thinking about [Y/N] the entire time then. Oh! Let’s call her up to hang out!”

“Nah. She went home with someone,” Roger shrugged.

“A guy?” John questioned.

“No. A girl called Abbey I think? She even kinda looked like me!”

“That’s cold, mate,” said Brian. Roger flopped onto the couch.

“Tell me about it. Remember when we had that school reunion and she pushed me in the pool? I couldn’t even wear my clothes after that they were so wet.”

“Oh, of course I remember that.”

“Well. I say we get this [Y/N] girl up here at some point to hang out. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met em. What do they even look like?” Freddie questioned, twirling a glass of wine.

“Hm…They’ve got bright purple hair now…And they usually wear leather jackets?”

“Roger may always go for those ditzy girls, but I think he’s got a thing for bad girls.”

“Don’t they always wear dark lipstick too?” Deaky piped up.

“What? How does everyone know this girl but me? Roger, invite her over,” Freddie pouted.

“Yes your highness,” he responded, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’m going to bed. See ya guys tomorrow.”

“Invite her!” Freddie shouted after him. He turned back to the rest of his bandmates. “So, think he’s got a chance? They sound like a lesbian goddess to me.”

Roger was definitely not going to invite them anywhere.

“If I recall, they used to hook up sometimes during university. But then [Y/N] would disappear for a bit.”

“An enigma, huh?”

“Oh definitely.”

The next day was a day spent in the city, as the boys had no performances or tours. Freddie, like always, was eccentric and hounding on Roger to invite [Y/N] dinner.

“No way! I don’t want you blokes to embarrass me,” Roger shrugged.

“I’ll ask [Y/N], then,” Brian piped up.

Freddie clapped his hands together. “See? We’ve got at least one sane person!”

“Yeah. I’ll just call her up then.”

“NO! You will: not do that.”

“C’mon, Rog, maybe Brian wants to see his longtime friend. It doesn’t even have to be about you.”

“…Ugh. You guys are never gonna give this up, huh? Fine. Do it. I don’t care,” Roger threw his hands up in the air, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Yessss!!!” Freddie fist pumped the air. “Bri dear, go on and call [Y/N] then!”

“Alright, alright.” Brian fished a couple of coins out of his pocket and stepped into the phone booth.

“Hello?” he heard their sleepy voice drift through the receiver.

“It’s me. Brian.”

“Oh! My favorite person. Why the HELL did you wake me up so early?”

“Uh, it’s noon.”

“Yeah! That’s basically the middle of the night!”

“What kind of clock are you on–no. This isn’t what I called to talk about it. Freddie and me and you to come over for dinner. Or go out somewhere. Your choice.”

“Dinner with the famous rock band? Sounds tempting, but I think I’ll have to pass.”

“I thought I was your favorite person?” Brian half smirked.

“[Y/N], babe, come back to bed,” another voice whined.

“In a minute, Abbs. Gotta go Brian. Don’t wait up,” and with that, the line clicked dead.  Brian sighed, dropping the phone back into the holder and stepped out of the booth.

“Well how’d it go?!”

Brian could see Roger lift his head slightly from where he was leaning cooly against a building wall. “Unfortunately, it’s the middle of the night for [Y/N] and she doesn’t want to come over anyway.”

“Awe,” Freddie pouted. “Rog, where’s [Y/N]’s house? Deaky, what do you have to say about the matter?”

“I think we should leave them be,” Roger and John said simultaneously.

“You guys are no fun.”

In truth, Roger, Deaky, and Brian both knew they were practically under their friend’s building.

Deaky looked up, and could barely see [Y/N]’s retreating figure from the window. “Yeah. Leave ‘em be.”

“Ugh! How can she ignore me like this! And yet, she’s just the girl I’m looking for?!” Roger shook his head.

“Hey! You’re Roger! And the rest of you must be Queen, yeah?” A female voice piped up. Roger glared slightly, recognizing the girl from yesterday who [Y/N] took home.

“Yeah, and you’re that chick [Y/N] took home, huh?”

The girl smirked, “Yeah, what’s it to ya!”

Roger frowned and shrugged slightly.

“Roger dear is jealous,” Freddie whisper shouted.

“Shut UP! I’m not!”

“Not what?”

“[Y/N]!” Deaky smiled, side hugging them.

“Hey Deaks. What’s up?”

“Thought you were asleep,” Brian looked them up and down.

“Yeah, I was. But a certain someone woke me up.”

“OH! So you’re the infamous [Y/N] I keep hearing Roger talk about? I’m Freddie! Nice to officially meet you!”

“Rog talks about me, hmm?” [Y/N] smirked, pressing up against him. “Hey, Taylor.”

“Hey, [Y/N], wanna go get coffee?” Abbey asked.

“Nah, you go on ahead. I’ll see ya later,” they said, throwing up a peace sign.

The girl pouted a bit, but mumbled a ‘see ya later’ and went on her way.

“Why don’t you grab lunch with us then? I mean, while you’re here,” Roger stuttered.

“Awe, that’s cute,” [Y/N] said, patting his cheek. “Guess so, I’ve got nothing better to do. Besides, now there’s two gays in the house. That means….”

“More trouble!” Freddie chimed in.

“You’re bi though…” Brian laughed.

“Eh, saying I’m gay is easier than explaining I like guys and gals. You know how it goes.”

“No…not really.”

‘Whatever, Freddie understands. Right, Fred?” In response, he laughed and nodded, saying something about the gay agenda.

The gang decided to get sushi, the rest of the boys silently agreeing to force [Y/N] and Roger to sit next to each other.

“Thought you guys wanted to wait for dinner, but now we’re having lunch? Wild,” [Y/N] said, kicking up their feet on the chair adjacent to them.

“Well. Obvious change of plans,” Roger snorted to which [Y/N] rolled their eyes.

“You guys already act like a married couple,” Freddie commented.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“Anyway, I can’t wait for your next album, guys.”

“You listen to our stuff a lot, then?” Deaky asked.

“Uh yeah, you guys are amazing. Don’t let it get to your head though.”

“Too late,” Brian laughed, watching Roger glean with pride.

The group stayed for a couple hours, and [Y/N] bailed early because of their job. “Bye guys. Bye Roger,” they said, kissing him on the corner of his mouth.

Roger gestured to [Y/N]’s retreating form wildly. “They’re a mystery! Maybe they’re too much for me?! Why do I keep coming back to them?!”

“Ya just got it bad, man,” Bri laughed, patting him on the back. “I’m sure it’ll work out. Eventually.”

“He’d wait that long,” Freddie said, elbowing him in the side.

“I’m sure [Y/N] had a good time, so we’re probably gonna see more of ‘em,” Deaky said, “I’m kind of excited. We haven’t hung out in a while. You know, with becoming famous and all.”

[paragonrobits]

Can I ask for some Eridan/Vriska teaming up in a pirate FLARP against some foes if possible?~

“'We invite anyone who has the courage, the nerve, and thesteel, to plumb our dungeon of doom!'” went the note sent to everynaval FLARPer in the region, signed with only two signs, in lightblue and violet; respectively, the signs of the scorpion and thewaterbearer. “'If you have the might to win, dare... the MAUSOLEUMOF NIGHTMARES!'”

And Vriska smirked as dozens of unsuspecting rivals, each of themcontesting for a highly ranked spot in the regional FLARPingcontests, went straight into the vast labyrinth floating upon thesea, assembled from dozens of ships sunk by Eridan and Vriska, andthen raised up and mashed together. Trolls went in and then...

Well, they wouldn't come out. Their bodies did, most of the time.Sometimes. The point was to get bodies to feed to Spidermom andisolate lusii to feed to Feferi's lusus, but in any case the dungeonworked amazingly. Lured by the promise of treasure, people delvedinto the dungeon and ran afoul of the many, many horrendouslyunfair traps.

Years later, those who survivedthe Mausoleum would speak in hushed whispers of the horrible trapsthere. A sphere of annihilating energy housed in the mouth of astatue in a room set up to make you think you were supposed to openup the statue to solve a puzzle. A host of puzzles, dozens of them,each of which Eridan had flawlessly calibrated to kill whoever didanything in them, leaving behind their loot. No one ever got morethan a few rooms in, ever.

It would go down in troll history(which, to be fair, was on borrowed time at this point) as the mosthideous unfair, horrifically unbalanced and just plain meanpuzzle dungeons ever conceived.Even worse than the creations of 'What A Jackass' Jolstoni, themeanest puzzlemaker in all Alternia, who had taken the creed of 'allpuzzles should be super murdery' to a logical extreme, at least untilsome unknown fuchsia got bit by a cube puzzle he made.

Vriska yawned, slouching down thesteps of the dungeon's secret inner workings, going through secretpassageways to the treasury where they kept all the sweetloot they'd accrued from theirmany fallen foes. “What's up, fishface,” she said, clapping himon the back with her kickass robot arm. “I was thinking that maybetonight we could-”

Eridan held an arm out.Dramatically. His cape fanned out, covering her view of the treasury.(He had to stand on a table to block her view, so he clearly had goneto some effort ahead of time.)

“Uhh,” she said.

He lowered his arm. Vriska gaspedin horror.

There are many unspeakablyhorrible sights on Alternia. The pits where the culled are sent todie in their trials. The courts where the doomed are sentenced. Anyplace remotely near a fuchsia, at least until Feferi was born. Emptyfood preparation blocks. But there is nothing worse than the sight ofan empty treasure chamber atleast to a pirate-themed FLARPer.

“Our treasure trove,” Eridanbegan. “Has been stolen!”

“...Uh, yeah, I worked thatout,” Vriska said, giving him a look.

“Look, I've been up here fortwo and a half hours waiting for your dumb ass to get up and see thistravesty! Least you could do is let me get out my cool dramaticspeech.”

“You were up here for two and ahalf hours and that's the most you came up with ahead of time?”

“OKAY SHUT THE HELL UP andlet's get going, we have a treasure to reclaim.”

“HELL YEAH,” Vriska said,running off into a completely different room, popping off her arm andthrowing it at Eridan. It incidentally managed to smack him in theback of the head. She came back a few minutes later, dressed in asuper cool pirate-themed outfit that so happened to look exactly likeher ancestor's favorite outfit. Eridan was already dressed in hisoutfit. Also, she'd swapped out her robot arm for a giant pirate hookwith a built in cannon.

They high fived. They immediatelyregretted this, because you really don't want to high five someonewhen your hand is now a giant hook/cannon.

A short while later, becauseEridan had also prepared a ship ahead of time, their ship set out.They tended to go through a few dozen every perigee, and simply stolenew ships from defeated foes; this one had been looted from an armadaof trolls all arising in response to inflammatory comments Eridan andVriska had made regarding the latest editions of FLARP's needlesschanges to rules they didn't care for. (This sort of thing was prettycommonplace on Alternia; an entire planet of children from a speciesprone to wild mood extremes, without any adult supervision and withmysterious interferences to make them more bloodthirsty? It wasunavoidable.) This ship was the only one to survive; Vriska blamedEridan for being too trigger-happy with his weird ancestral lightningthingy. Eridan blamed Vriska for mind controlling people intoblasting each other without even waiting for a sick cameraopportunity.

This one had been renamed theRevengence Rising, forreasons that Vriska was unclear on. Eridan would only say that he sawit in a dream, borne to him by the terrible things he saw in hisdreams, and swept off dramatically.

The Revengence didn'tso much float as it insinuated itself through the water, slicingthrough the tides and the occasional smaller ship that ran afoul ofthe giant underwater ramming blades beneath it, raising a pink-huedflag. The pink of tyranny had only one meaning; there would be noprisoners, just as a true heiress left no survivors. Both Eridan andVriska were considering changing the flag's color, because since theyknew Feferi so well, they couldn't quite reconcile that with... well,her. (They chose to decide that Feferi was just super weird.)

They soon came across theirquarry, a ship low in the water from the weight of its treasures, anda very big ship at that, too. It had to be, to hold all thattreasure. Vriska seethed at the sight of it, her one good eyenarrowed and her fangs scraping against her lower lip. “I am gonnakick their ass! I am gonna kick the boat's ass!”

“Boats don't have those,”Eridan pointed out.

“I am gonna build it an ass soI can kick it!”

“Use shitty wood, otherwiseyou're gonna make it look better than it really is.”

“Shit, I wouldn't have thoughtof that. Good save.”

“It's what I do,” Eridan saidsmugly.

“Hey!” Vriska yelled into amegaphone, directing it at the ship. “HEY, YOU! TREASURE STEALINGASSHOLES THAT STOLE THE TREASURE WE STOLE FIRST!”

There was a pause. The enemy shipwiggled with activity. “What?” A faint, reedy voice called back.

“I said HEY YOU!” Vriskayelled.

“WHAT?'

“I SAID... goddamit, are weeven close enough for them to hear us?” Vriska turned to thelowblooded troll closest to them on their crew. “I said, are weclose enough for that?”

Karkat Vantas, roped into thisarrangement as a result of a complicated bet involved a largepineapple and the world's second-nicest hat he was trying to barterwith Equius for reasons unknown, rolled his eyes. “I don't goddamnknow. If they're constantly yelling about what you said, GEE, I DON'TKNOW, that's probably a pretty solid indication, huh?!”

“You're the worst cabin boyever. I don't know why Terezi recommended you.”

“I thought Terezi swore to killyou and eat all your shoes,” Karkat said.

“Eh, inbetween vows to make mesuffer for my misdeeds or whatever, she yells at me about how greatyou are. It's weird and sickening.”

“Oh. Wait she did... she didwhat? She talks about... me?” Karkat fell to the ground, staring atthe moons. “Inbetween acts of vowing horrible revenge? Oh... that'sthe most romantic thing I ever heard... I need to write poetry aboutthis.”

“God, this is sickening,”Eridan said, wrinkling his snout.

“Hell yeah,” Vriska said,shaking her head and unconsciously putting her arm around Eridan'sshoulder.  “Just plain weird.”

Eridan put his arm around herwait, with no conscious thought on his part. “This flush pining isjust embarrassing.”

“Yeah.” A small pause. “Didwe forget something?”

They looked up, and saw the shipsignificantly closer. A purple blood waved to them; Vriska judged himthe leader of the crew, if only because he had the biggest andfanciest hat. In pirate terms, he was so obviously the Leader. “So,uh, you were trying to say something to us?”

“Yeah!” Vriska drew hersword, and with her other hand, extended her harpoon. She got backinto character, as Eridan did the same. “I, the dread MarquiseSpinneret Mindfang, demand that you return my stolen treasure hoard!”

“And I, the fearsome pirateDualscar, demand your land-cursed BLOOD!”Eridan shouted, drawing Ahab's Crosshairs and pointing it in a waythat indicated he had every intention of just driving it intopeople's chests like a spear.

The captain considered it. “No.”

“Give us the treasure,”Vriska threatened. “And then we'll kill you!”

The enemy crew stared across thedeck. From the floor, Karkat said, “Don't you mean, 'or'?”

“We know what we said!”Eridan snarled. “And get below decks, you could get hurt if there'sa fight!” He paused, and trying to save face, quickly added, “And!And, uh. If you get hurt or somethin', Terezi will wear my skin as afancy cape! I don't want to become a cosplay!”

Karkat groaned and rolled belowdecks. “I'm going, I'm going!”

The enemy captain shrugged. “So,it's a fight you want, huh? Then, it's a fight you'll-”

“DIE DIE DIE!” Vriskascreamed, catapulting herself across the two ships, heedless of apotential fall into the sea. She landed with a sword right in thecaptain's neck, her hook through the first mate, and she twistedaway. Purple and blue bloodrained down around her, and with a swish of her long coat, she raisedher robot arm as her arm cannon unfurled, blasting out a flurry ofshots that tore open the side of the ship.

“You shits stay here and trynot to be failures,” Eridan said to his crew, and dove into thesea. A moment later, he erupted out from the other side of the ship.In his native element he was far faster and stronger, and leaped highinto the air, landing with each, Crosshairs down and through thechest of the first unwary crewtroll. He twisted aside, putting thebody in the path of a sword blow coming his way, and a blast from theCrosshairs toppled the mast over, onto another grouping of enemycrewtrolls.

Vriska was laughing now, swordand cannon akimbo, and Eridan laughed too, the both of them moving ina fierce frenzy through the crew. Swords and shields clashedtogether, bows strung out and fired only to hit crewtrolls used asliving shields, and as soon as Eridan was able to aim (though hepreferred the thrill and martial honor of a melee), they were wipedfrom the world, along with several portions of the ship.

Cannon blasts, piercing lightfrom the Crosshairs and the sheer ferocity of the pair, fighting backto back, ended the first in short order. Most ship boardings are overfast, and this was done in a matter of minutes. When it was done, theship was listing, too many holes in its side to keep on from... well,taking on water. Vriska and Eridan stood, back to back, cape and coatflapping in the breeze as they posed with their weapons crossing. Oneof the enemy crewtrolls, in exchange for his life, took a photo ofthem.

“So, uh, are you gonna dosomething about the ship?” That crewtroll said.

Eridan blinked. “What aboutit?”

“It's sort of sinking. From allthe damage you did,” the crewtroll said, with just a hint ofreproach.

“...Oh shit~!”Eridan and Vriska said. Vriska ran to the side and called out to hership, “Towing cables! Ready the hooks, you know what to do!”

Several modified cannons, on thebroad side of the ship, opened up and fired; massive hooks slammedinto the side of the ship and chains reeled it in, towing the largership closer to them and supporting it. It wobbled ominously, butdidn't sink.

Vriska sighed in relief. “Ourtreasure, and more importantly, my reputation, are saved!”

Eridan checked a small watch.“And it's not even second breakfast. God, butthis is gonna be a slow day, isn't it?”

Vriska twirled him close to her.“Day's still young, fishface. Bet ya we can get into more trouble~”

[miss-scientia]

Noctis x Mermaid!Reader

Okay so here is that fic I’ve been working on that no one asked for! :P No but seriously, it was just so nice to be able to write something again! I’ve been writing this all day actually, and it’s not very well proof read or anything so I apologise if it’s not great grammar, and it’s not up to my usual standard. Things take so much longer to write when you’re ill. But anyway, this idea just came to me one day and I had a burning desire to write it so here it is! I hope you like it! (I’m such a sucker for mermaids and cliches. Oh and Noctis of course).

WC: 3515 SFW Noctis x Fem!Reader

Part One

Rock crunched beneath the sole of his boot with every step. Rocks and uneven flooring were things this cave had an abundance of, that was for certain. Noctis ran a hand through his raven hair, pushing the strands out of his eyes as he looked down, doing his best not to trip up.

“Whose idea was this?” Prompto grumbled from somewhere behind the prince, also trying not to trip up on the uneven floor. Ignis sighed and answered his question with the same answer he gave every time.

“I believe it was Noctis’.”

“Tch, you guys are acting like this is worse than climbing the Rock of Ravatogh.” The accused answered, rather sullenly. He was also starting to regret suggesting that they check out this cave. So far there hadn’t been anything in it, treasure or daemons, and he was feeling rather grumpy about it.

“I don’t understand what’s up with you all.” Gladio called cheerily from the front, sounding like he was having a whale of a time. Which the big guy was. Navigating over rough terrain was like a simple work out for him, and in comparison, was finding it a breeze. Looking back, he was met with three withering glances, causing him to chuckle deeply at his friends.

“There’s nothing here big guy.” Prompto protested what they were all thinking, and even Gladio had to nod in agreement with that.

“It is true, and there is a rather alarming lack of daemons. We have encountered none as of yet, which is unthinkable in such a secluded place.”

Noctis found himself nodding along with the strategist. However, although this cave was secluded, it wasn’t dark like the daemons needed. The rocky walls, ceiling and even floor around them seemed to emit a soft, gentle blue shimmer. It was like the rock itself was glowing.

Not what the daemons are comfortable with.

“Eh, problem guys.” Gladio’s gruff voice pulled the prince out of his speculation, and he looked up to see the problem his friend had mentioned. And he almost groaned.

“A dead end?” Once again, Prompto voiced the shared thought.

“Ah… it seems there truly was nothing here.”

“Hmm, but I could’ve sworn…” Noctis mumbled, feeling slightly confused and disappointed. When he had stumbled upon this cave, he’d had a gut feeling that there was something here worth their while. That feeling had been why he was so eager for them to explore it in the first place, but the shimmery blue, rock wall they were now facing left him hollow.

I was so certain…

“I guess we turn back.” Gladio stated, his tone not questioning, only accepting the obvious.

“Hey, wait!” Prompto’s voice sounded like an echo as he crouched down to examine the rock wall and floor closer. “There’s a thing here! Looks like some kinda manhole cover… I’m just gonna lift it up!”

Grunts and heaves of effort which involuntarily escaped his lips echoed as loud as before, as the blonde struggled to lift the cover. It was the same shimmery blue as the rest of the cave, but clearly didn’t seem to be made of rock.  Noctis was impressed he had spotted it, it blended in so well with its surroundings.

“Now, why would there be a manhole cover here…?” Ignis mumbled thoughtfully, so quiet that if the prince hadn’t been stood so close by, he’d have missed it. Though truth be told, Noctis had wondered the same thing. Was it to stop people coming in? Or maybe to prevent something getting out…?

Even with these thoughts however, it was too late to stop Prompto; Gladio had taken pity on him and helped him lift the cover to the side. With the obstruction gone, it revealed a darkened hole in the cave floor. It was still made out of that same rock, however, this tunnel seemed to be very smooth. Almost like…

“People can go down here?”

“It would seem so.” Gladio answered Noctis’ question, inspecting the revealed tunnel closer. Instead of plummeting straight down, the tunnel seemed to curve slightly, making the drop not too steep. “Seems like it’s made for people to walk down.”

At once, three pairs of eyes turned to face Noctis. He looked at each of them, and they all recognised the determined, curious look reflected in the ice blue pools. Prompto groaned unenthusiastically.

“Scrabbling around underground… again. Fantastic.”

But Noctis just smiled, knowing the blonde would come along regardless of his moaning. Returning his eyes down to the tunnel, his curiosity burned. The odd feeling in his gut was back, telling him there had to be something down there. Slowly he walked to the edge, kneeling down and swinging his legs over the entrance to the tunnel.

“After you your highness.” Gladio chuckled, and Noctis slid off the edge of the tunnel. There was a short drop, then his feet came into contact with the jarringly smooth floor as he landed with a quiet thud.

“Everything okay?” Prompto asked as Gladio was the next to settle over the entrance. But just as Noctis opened his mouth to reply, his feet slipped out from under him, unable to stand properly on the smooth surface. Instead his yelped, butt coming into contact with the floor and suddenly he was sliding down the smooth tunnel.

Wait, we were wrong. It isn’t a tunnel at all, it’s made to be like a slide!

Noctis picked up speed, the dip of the slide progressively getting steeper. He could hear the shouts of the other three over the wind.

They’ve come after me.

But as Noctis continued his descent, he quickly approached three tunnels. Unable to change his route, Noctis ended up sliding through the far-right tunnel. He couldn’t slow himself; his hands unable to grip onto the smooth surface, his boots not providing any friction. Before he could start to panic, he was suddenly thrown roughly from the smooth tube like slide, rolling out onto the familiar rocky flooring. Finally he came to a stop, edges of the rocks digging into his arms. Coughing, Noctis pushed himself up off of the floor, standing up right to look at the ‘tunnel’ he’d just slid down.

I suppose that was the express way down.

He was filthy, covered in dust from his impromptu landing. He was also, Noctis realised, on his own. Had the other three followed him, they would have joined him by now, mere seconds behind him. But no one else turned up.

They must’ve been sent through one of the other tubes…

“Ah great.” Noctis groaned, kicking a rock half-heartedly with his foot.

Well, might as well try and see if I can figure out where I am.

The prince turned, resolving to try and meet up with the others. But as he turned, that thought was put out of his head for the moment.

“Wow…” He breathed, stunned. Noctis had found himself in a large dome shaped pocket of the cave. About a third of this was the same rocky floor as the cave had been above, and the other two thirds… pure water. A huge, calm lake spread out in front of him, the water casting reflections onto the blue shimmery rocks, giving the rocky dome an almost ethereal glow. It was much lighter here.

Enraptured, Noctis stepped forward slowly, making his way over to the lake in sheer disbelief. It was a beautiful sight to behold, prettier than any lake found out in the real world.

Huh, real world. It’s just that this seems so… unbelievable.

The prince mocked himself as he finally came to a stop at the lake’s edge. The water was a beautiful blue, all calm- Noctis’ eyes suddenly caught a movement from his peripheral vision. Like lighting his ice blue eyes locked onto an area of water, slightly in the distance…

There it was again! A gentle ripple in the otherwise calm waters. At once, Noctis could feel his palms tingle in excitement.

Just imagine what kind of rare fish are in here, in this secluded lake.

His eyes lit up at the prospect, and he summoned his rod at once. Just like a kid in a candy store…

Waiting, Noctis watched the waters again. He was cool, calm, focused. In his element.

There!

Noctis cast his rod near the faint ripple of water, eager to entice whatever lay below its depths. All thoughts of escape or rendezvousing with his team mates were gone as he concentrated, focusing only on the catch…

The rod tweaked.

Already? I wasn’t expecting this to be a quick deal!

The rod moved again, this time with more force, nearly pulling the prince into the waters. Noctis gasped, digging his feet into the rocky flooring, tightening his grip on his rod.

Whatever it is… it’s big. He’d never felt a force like it in all his time fishing. A jolt of excitement ran through his body, he had to get his hands on this!

I knew there was something here!

Eagerly Noctis reeled in the line, careful not to let the fine line snap. Whatever it was wasn’t thrashing about as much as the prince expected, and soon something came to the surface before he’d even finished fully drawing in the line. Just breeching the surface, there was a little patch of… hair? It looked like wet hair to Noctis, and he couldn’t help but flinch a little.

Just what the hell have I caught…?

He continued to reel it in, the patch of colour coming ever closer.

It is hair!

But he was too invested to stop. He reeled until it was closer, and more hair broke the surface of water… lots of it. He could see, buried somewhere in the twists of the never-ending hair, his lure was well and truly tangled.

It… it wasn’t a fish who bit on the lure…

Noctis gulped. With slight uneasiness, he reeled until the mass of hair was just beneath him. There was so much of it, the locks drifting in the water, that whatever it belonged to was obscured from his vision by the sheer amount of it.

“Well, I need my lure at the very least.” He spoke out loud, trying to convince himself to put his hand on this mass of hair. There was a dread building up inside him, but he was really trying to ignore that part. Surely there was no way it could be a… a body.

Suddenly, at the sound of his voice the mass of hair jumped and recoiled, attempting to retreat to the further away area of water. Noctis could feel his rod slipping from his grip, his attention having been diverted for a second. In shock, he grabbed hold of it, pulling to stop whatever it was floating away.

“Hey!”

Noctis watched, as the mass of hair started to rise out of the water… His mouth dropped open, and he nearly let go of his rod in surprise. Out from the water… came a human torso. Followed by two human arms, struggling at the hair still covering the face.

H…human? Noctis’ brain faltered at the sight, watching the human with an impossible amount of hair struggle to free itself. A lock of hair was pushed out of the way by a searching hand, revealing the face… her face.

“A girl…?” Noctis stuttered, bewildered. Again, the girl reacted to the sound of his voice; freezing up and lifting her [e/c] eyes to stare at him wearily. At once Noctis registered the sheer panic in her eyes, and instantly felt terrible.

“Hey…hey it’s okay. I’m sorry, I thought you were… never mind. Here, let me help you.” His voice softened at once, and he gestured to the girl. She still regarded him suspiciously, and so Noctis did something he thought he’d never do. Slowly, so as not to frighten her even more, he laid his rod on the rocky floor beside him.

[e/c] eyes watched his movements closely, as if waiting for a trick. However, we her eyes returned to his… the gentle kindness reflected in them quelled her fears. Almost shyly, the girl swam back over to the edge of the lake and towards Noctis, using her arms to pull her closer.

Noctis gulped, sliding to his knees carefully as she came closer. Hesitantly, she offered her main of hair to him, and blocking out any thoughts of worry, he gently grasped the lure in his fingers. He sucked in a gasp, not wanting to alarm the girl but… her hair was so soft. Slowly he unwrapped the tresses from the lure.

“Wow, it’s really stuck in there, huh?” He breathed, afraid of raising his voice. She seemed easily startled, and the last thing he wanted was to be pulled into the depths with her if she pulled away. There was no response, so he continued with his bizarre task until finally…

“There we go.” Noctis sat back, opening his closed fist to show the girl the lure was now out of her hair. She gazed up at him, a curiosity that resonated with his own reflected in her eyes. Gently, she lifted a hand toward the lure, and with her fingertips brushed along its surface. It was like… she’d never seen a lure before.

Noctis simply watched her, holding his breath, enraptured by this strange girl of the lake. As she played with the lure in his palm, her eyes wide with fascination, Noctis took this time to actually look at this girl. Her skin was beautiful, unblemished and invitingly soft looking, an almost translucent [s/c]. The ever-lasting mane of hair fell down her back and her chest, as if enveloping her. Which was luckily, Noctis thought, as he realised she was bare from the neck down.

Pink tinged his cheeks, and he was suddenly glad she was so interested in what lay in his palm.

Okay, so why is there a beautiful, naked girl in a strange lake hidden deep in a secluded cave?

Before he could voice his question however, a movement once again caught his eye, not too far away from the girl… a ripple in the water… a fish tail…?

And then it suddenly clicked in his head.

“Woah!” He gasped at the realisation, the shock sending him backwards so he once again fell on his ass. At the sudden outburst, the girl – mermaid – withdrew her hand and recoiled back. Within seconds she was under the water, the only evidence of her ever being there at all, the breaks in the water she left in her wake.

Noctis was scrambling to his feet again in a hurry.

“Wait! Wait I’m sorry I didn’t mean that!” He called, but there was no answer. His eyes skimmed the lake, but he couldn’t see her at all. Like she was a figment of his imagination.

“Please come back I… I was just startled, that’s all.” He pleaded awkwardly, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. However, still no reply.

Noctis sighed heavily.

“Please? You were scared of me at first too… I honestly didn’t mean to startle you.” After another pause, Noctis hung his head. Scared away probably the only mermaid he’d ever see.

Typical. Real smooth there Noctis. He admonished himself. Ugh, what do I even do-

A slight sound interrupted his thoughts and he looked up. In the middle of the water, just peering out above the surface, there was those [e/c] eyes watching him curiously. He couldn’t stop the surprised smile that lifted the corners of his lips.

“You’re curious too huh?” Once again he lowered himself to the floor, this time sitting cross legged at the edge of the lake. Slowly the mermaid swam up to him, and finally lifted her head out of the water until her chin was free. Her little fingers reached out of the water, and tentatively curled over the rocky edge by Noctis’ feet.

He gulped. He could barely believe this was happening. A mermaid, here?

“Sorry that I scared you. It’s just, I’ve never seen a mermaid before.” He uttered. Although she didn’t speak, her eyes seemed to say she accepted his apology. A small smile graced her lips, causing Noctis’ heart to race in his chest.

I think that means… she accepts me?

For some reason, Noctis found that he felt it was important that she knew he meant her no harm.

“So… uh, h-have you been here long?” He almost cringed at the sound of his voice; awkward.

How do you even start a conversation with a mermaid?

Fortunately, she seemed oblivious to his awkwardness, and nodded her head. Noctis sucked in another gasp. She’d answered him, clearly understood him.

This is… surreal.

“Ah… I-I see. Uh, nice place you have.”

Excellent. He almost groaned aloud. This conversation is crashing and burning.

The mermaid watched him, tilting her head inquisitively. More accurately, she was watching as a pink hue blossomed over his cheeks. Lifting one hand, she put her palm to her cheek and frowned. And then, without warning, she lifted that palm and gently pressed it against Noctis’ cheek, lifting herself further out of the water.

Noctis froze as her hand came into contact with the warming skin of his cheek. He could barely register what was happening, unable to do anything about it. Her palm was surprisingly soft, cupping his cheek with such tenderness he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. His breathing stopped, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the strange creature before him. Beautiful, innocent, inquisitive. His heart raced once more, pounding oddly against his rib cage. Her touch wasn’t cool like he expected, but warm. Really warm.

Maybe that’s my face. His brain so helpfully reminded him of the blush deepening on his face. She was close, so ridiculously close. Seemingly unaware, she’d pulled herself out of the water so far that he could see where her stomach connected to her tail, her skin ever as translucent, contrasting against the brilliant colour of her tail. Her features were soft, kind, inviting. Her eyes impossibly big, lips looking incredibly soft…

Gulping hard, Noctis gently pulled his face from her touch, only a fraction. With the loss of her touch his head cleared slightly, but he couldn’t fully shake the enthralled feeling that has overcome him. She tilted her head again, asking him a wordless question as she once more pointed to her own cheeks.

She wants to know why my skin went red… oh boy.

“Uh, it’s called a blush… it happens sometimes…” Shaking his head, he moved swiftly on. “Anyway, I know that you can understand me, but… well, can you talk? Or are you just shy?”

Sinking back into the comfort of the water again until it rested just above her chin, she shook her head.

No. She can’t. I wonder why…?

Before he could voice the question however, a familiar voice called, not too far away.

“Nooooctiiis! Are you here?”

Prompto.

His eyes flickered to hers hurriedly to see the familiar panic within them.

“They’re just my-”

“Hey Noct, c’mon.” Gladio’s rough voice was next, their footsteps coming ever closer.

With one last shake of her head, the mermaid ducked under the water and disappeared, swimming away under the depths of the lake.  Noctis didn’t have any time to say anything, or move to stop her. One minute she was there, the next she was gone.

Just as the prince stood up, the familiar faces of his friends walked into view.

“Noctis, there you are. You have had us on a very merry chase.” Ignis shook his head, but was pleased to see the prince well and safe.

“Noct! Where have you been man? We looked-” Prompto stopped short as he saw the rod next to Noctis. His blue eyes flashed back up to the prince’s face, then he rolled them in exasperation.

“Really? Here?”

“Dedication.” Gladio muttered approvingly, also spotting the fishing rod.

“Didya catch anything good? I’m starving.”

Noctis’ eyes flickered swiftly from the lake, back to the faces of his friends. He wasn’t quite sure what compelled him to give the answer he did, but he was certain it was the right answer for now.

“Nah. There’s nothing in there.”

“Not surprising. There’s nothing in here anywhere.” Prompto moaned. Ignis adjusted his glasses, his eyes lingering on the prince a moment too long.

“While we were searching, Gladio managed to find a rope to climb out of these caves on. Seems like others have been here before us. Shall we depart, since there is nothing here?”

Noctis couldn’t swear by it, but he thought he heard an odd strain on the last part of his sentence. Almost like he was trying to say something.

Am I being paranoid?

“Sure, lead the way.” He nodded, as casually as he could manage.

As his friends filed out of the dome shaped pocket, Noctis turned to have one last glance at the lake. He was surprised to find he felt disappointed as the still waters looked back at him.

[theshatteredrose]

Hello, I wanted to say I love your writing so so much and feel so blessed to have found it. I was wondering if I could bother you and request a Simmons/Rahas with Rahas being "nice" to Simmons because of their connection to Shiki? It's such an intriguing plot line <3

AN: Sorry it took me so long to get this written! I have a few excuses, but their all generic. And there was no way I could say no to such a polite anon! Thank you for the kind words! I hope you’ll enjoy reading!

Title: Being Nice

It was late at night, probably around midnight, when Rahas made his way back to his room. He decided to go through the door this time; he couldn’t be bothered heading for the window. It was getting colder at night anyway, and Lirit was starting to resent the window being left open. Lirit wouldn’t outright say anything to him, as he was polite, but he may accidentally mention it to someone else, who would then mention it to Lynus, who would then chide him for keeping the window open and increasing the possibility of catching a cold.

His mothering had gotten worse, if that was at all possible.

Pushing open the door to his room, he was unsurprised to find Lirit sitting up in bed, also awake. He had his covers pooled at his waist, though, which meant he had been sleeping at one point. The nosy troubadour probably heard him coming up the stairs anyway. His hearing was a little too potent.

“You’re back,” Lirit said for the sole purpose of interrupting the silence.

“Yeah,” Rahas replied simply as he kicked off his boots and began to ready himself for bed.

Lirit watched him for a moment before unexpectedly commenting; “You’ve been hanging around with Simmons a lot these past few days.”

Rahas winced defensively. “Yeah, so?”

“Not being negative or anything like that,” Lirit passively replied. “I’m just curious.”

Nosy, was more like it. “Whatever,” Rahas said dismissively with a sharp shrug of his shoulder.

Lirit, however, wasn’t going to let his short, sharp answers deter him from his interrogation. “It’s good that you’re getting along.”

Rahas shrugged again as he pulled off his coat and slipped on a shirt he uses to sleep in. He couldn’t stop a frown and a wince of guilt from appearing on his face, so he promptly turned his back toward Lirit. “If you can call it that.”

Lirit unexpectedly sighed loudly and there was a rustling noise, as if he was folding back the blankets to that he could sit on the edge of his bed. “…What have the two of you being doing?”

“Nothing,” Rahas muttered as he pulled back the blankets on his bed and slipped beneath them.

“You must be doing something.”

“Training.”

“Is that all?” Lirit sounded disappointed. “You two should so something nicer together.”

Rahas rolled his eyes as he flopped onto his side, his back toward Lirit once more. “No.”

“Don’t be like that,” Lirit said, and Rahas could just hear the frown in his voice.

Rahas felt agitated as he rolled onto his back and pushed himself up onto his hands as he looked over at Lirit. “Look, I don’t do ‘nice’, ok?” he said.

Surprisingly, Lirit seemed to squint at him in disbelief before he sighed in a manner that was a little too close to the maternal sighs of disapproval Lynus would unwittingly emit.

“Yeah, ok,” Lirit said, almost in a patronizing manner. “Maybe you could ease into it? Get him something small. Cheap if you want to. Just throw it at his face and walk off. Besides, this is Simmons we’re talking about. He’ll readily accept anything you give him.”

That could work actually…

But he wasn’t ready for having this kind of conversation with anyone. Especially when they were pushing him into a more…romantic pairing with the landsknecht.

“Go to sleep, Lirit,” Rahas said as he flopped back onto his bed and onto his side once more. As he pulled the blankets up over his shoulder, he decided to add a final touch to their late night conversation. “And if you tell Macerio about this conversation, you will find yourself the bed mate to several hedgehogs. Is that clear?”

“V-very.”

… … … … …

As he glanced down at the small, fluffy, bunny-shaped plushie in his hand, Rahas could hardly believe what he had done.

He had actually taken what Lirit said last night into consideration. And he had actually went through with the first part and bought something with the intention of giving it to that blue-haired landsknecht.

He had yet to do so as of yet. And he was honestly debating if he should. If Macerio was to found out, he’d never hear the end of it. Of course, he could counter with something about Lirit, which would quickly shut that gunner up.

It…wouldn’t exactly hurt giving the plushie to Simmons, would it? If it got out, Rahas could just pin the blame on Lynus telling him to do something nice for Simmons for a change. After all, Simmons had given Rahas a tonne of gifts. He was just being polite.

Still, he was going to make sure to give it to Simmons when there was no one else around. Not even his guildmates. Oh sure, Gerald wouldn’t care and Kerri would probably approve. But listening to Tiffany wail about Simmons getting more gifts than she was something he didn’t want to risk his hearing listening to.

After a bit of stalking around the streets and not finding the blue-haired landsknecht anywhere, Rahas assumed that he was out in his usual training spot on the outskirts of town, away from the entrance of the labyrinth to ensure that no one else would stumble across him and interrupt.

…Ok, time to get it over with. Throwing it at him and leave. Yeah. That’ll work.

“Oi, Simmons! Merry birthday or something!” Rahas yelled as he threw the plushie at the unsuspecting landsknecht.

“Eh?” Simmons managed to mutter as he paused in his training, only to have the plushie smack him right in the middle of his face. His head reeled back slightly, more from the surprise than by the force, and his hand immediately flew up toward his face. As the plushie fell, he managed to catch it with his hand and he immediately stared at it with wide eyes.

“What’s this?” Simmons asked as he quirked his head to the side in question.

“Nothing,” Rahas immediately refuted, as was his natural habit, before wincing slightly as he reminded himself that he was tying this ‘nice’ thing that everyone was harping on him about. “A good luck charm or something.”

“Is it yours?” Simmons unexpectedly questioned as he finally looked over at him, confusion etching its way onto his face.

Rahas folded his arms over his chest. “No, it’s yours.”

Simmons blinked at him, his confusion not lifting for a moment. “I don’t remember having this.”

“No, it’s yours now.”

“Huh? But you had it.”

“Yes, that’s because I was giving it to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Rahas bristled in an almost violent manner. “Because I’m a nice guy!”

Finally, Simmons nodded his head in acceptance. “Ah, ok,” he said as he glanced back down at the plushie.

…And he just accepted that excuse?

Rahas ran a hand over his face. He should have known throwing the gift at the guy and leaving was not a fucking option. Simmons would have likely tracked him down and handed it back to him. In front of someone. Either Macerio, Hamza, or Lynus. All three, most likely. With his luck.

Turning his attention back to Simmons, a terse ‘later’ on the tip of his tongue, he unexpectedly paused. Simmons was gazing down at his new lucky charm with a…soft expression on his face. A small smile on his lips, his eyes half-lidded, his expression surprisingly calm and…wistful.

It caught him off guard.

“What?” he asked as he took a half step forward.

Simmons snapped his head up to look over at him, his expression half that of surprise that he was still there and sheepish that he had been caught in thought. “I think…I had something like this when I was a kid,” he muttered.

That caught Rahas’ attention and he unintentionally took another step forward. “You think?”

Simmons shrugged but didn’t answer. He glanced up at Rahas for a moment before turning his gaze back down to the rabbit-like toy in his hands. As he did so, a slight breeze picked up and Rahas noticed something he hadn’t before. Just under Simmons’ hairline, on the left side of his head was a long, jagged but white line. A scar that had been healed years ago. Healed enough to make it as unnoticeable as possible. But it was still there. The scar was still visible, if one was looking.

And since there was a scar…that meant the wound was deep and possible life threatening.

“That scar,” Rahas said as he motioned toward Simmons forehead with his hand, though ensuring that he didn’t physically touch the other. “Where did you get that?”

Again, Simmons shrugged vaguely. “Dunno,” he answered, though he knew exactly what scar he was talking about.

Rahas furrowed his brow, somewhat annoyed with the short answers he was getting. He also couldn’t help but feel that it was somehow…attached to that ‘thing’ he was trying to become stronger than. That ‘thing’ where he would hear a noise that would make his head hurt and essentially black out without memory.

That thing.

Surprisingly, Simmons sighed loudly and sat down on the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him as he cradled the plush bunny toy with his two hands. “My earliest memory was waking up in hospital with my head wrapped in bandages. I don’t remember much before that. Just some strange dreams.”

Rahas was genuinely surprised by Simmons admission and found himself dropping to sit on the ground near him. He immediately wanted to know more, but he held himself back. It was…none of his business, truthfully. But if Simmons was willing to talk…

“What kind of dreams?” Rahas asked.

Simmons kept his focus on his gift, idly pulling at an ear or picking up an arm to make it appear as if the toy was waving its paw. “I can hear my mom yelling at me to run. To hide.”

That…

He…Simmons didn’t really think it was a dream. Rahas could tell. The look on Simmons’ face; the slight down-turning of his lips, the faraway look in his eyes. Someone must have told him it was a side effect to the head injury or something. Something he didn’t immediately believe but felt to be logical in a way.

B-but what about his father? What about…Shiki? Did he remember him?

N-no, he wasn’t ready for that yet. Not yet.

“…How old were you?” Rahas asked quietly instead.

“Twelve,” Simmons replied, still looking at his gift. “My parents went missing before that. That’s what they told me. I don’t…really remember much of my parents. Just a few things. Cass and Gerald told me more about them after I got out of the hospital.”

Gerald? Was that the reason he was-?

“Hey, Rahas?” Simmons suddenly said as he abruptly turned to look at him. “What about your parents?”

Rahas grimaced internally and externally. He should have figured that question would come up one day. He…couldn’t tell him the truth. Not yet.

“They’re both…gone. When I was a kid,” he answered, carefully choosing his words.

He wanted to say that they were dead in every meaning of the word, but for some reason didn’t want to actually say that word in front of Simmons. Not after learning that he believed that his parents were simply missing. Though there was a possibility that Simmons also felt that they were no longer living, saying the word out loud gave the impression that it was true.

Sometimes…it was better to let someone cling to a small bit of hope.

Besides, answering that they were dead was likely to prompt further questions about them, and Rahas honestly only had a few answers himself.

“Do you remember them?” Simmons went on to ask.

Only one of them, unfortunately. “No,” Rahas said instead.

Simmons gave him a small, sad smile. One that held a sense of understanding to it. “You’re like me, then.”

“Yeah,” Rahas murmured. “Seems so.”

But unlike his own, Simmons’ past was accessible. Gerald and Cass knew. Hell, Hamza probably did, too. The truth of Rahas past was likely to stay hidden to everyone, including himself. And that was fine with him. However, he could learn more about Simmons past, of which seemed to still be haunting and hurting him.

And it seemed a lot more intriguing then he had anticipated. In fact, the landsknecht himself was proving to be a lot more interesting as well.

Rahas was pulled from his thoughts when Simmons suddenly took to his feet. He spent a moment attaching the bunny lucky charm to his belt before looking down at Rahas with a hopeful expression. “Want to train with me?”

Surprisingly, Rahas didn’t find himself hesitating in answering. “Sure.”

The smile on Simmons’ facing was practically beaming.